Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I.

No, Sam definitely couldn’t deal with this anymore. It seemed the universe was playing a huge joke on him. But Sam had had enough. He’d just gone out of the psych ward, finally conquered his insanity or… you know, passed it on at Castiel. So of course the last person on the planet that he’d want to meet was standing right in front of him.

Lucifer.

At first Sam freaked out thinking he was hallucinating again. It stoke him as a bit strange, though, to see Lucifer on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, instead of the inside of Impala. He’d always preferred to pop right behind Sam during the ride.

But then Dean slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car, immediately reaching for his shotgun and pointing it at Lucifer.

However, the Lucifer himself looked… worn out and dizzy. He slouched on the side of the road, lumbering slowly forward. It seemed like he’d picked the direction randomly, because he took steps without confidence.

It’s hard to say who was more surprised by this situation, because as soon as he saw the shotgun, Lucifer momentarily froze in place, but still yelled:

“What the hell?!” He immediately raised his hands in attempt to keep Dean from shooting him.

“That’s my line, you son of a bitch!”, snarled Dean and positioned himself in front of Sam who stood just as frozen. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

Lucifer actually paled and swallowed loudly before answering carefully.

“I assume that you know who I am then…”, he observed tentatively.

“Of course we know who you are, bastard!”, yelled Dean.

“Then you are in a far better position in this situation”, replied Lucifer tightly, with his eyes still fixed on the barrel of a gun as if it could actually do him some harm. Which Sam knew it couldn’t. “Because, unfortunately, I don’t.”, admitted the blond man after a second’s thought.

And that single sentence changed everything.

II.

Cutting long story short, Lucifer really didn’t remember a thing. Like, literally, not a single fact about his life. He didn’t even know how he got on that road and what year it was.

“He’s not Lucifer”, decided Sam finally and sighed tiredly. He was sitting on a simple wooden chair in the middle of some abandoned ruins of a catholic church. They had luck for finding places like that exactly when it was needed. It was good, though. Nobody should bother them.

Next to him Dean was pacing nervously and trying to put pieces of this thing together.

Lucifer – or whoever it was – was tied to another chair, with his hands behind his back and his mouth gagged.

“How can we be sure?”, asked Dean not for the first time.

“We can be pretty sure he actually doesn’t remember a thing.”, reasoned Sam.

It was beyond doubt, really, after talking to the guy even for a moment. He was scared, confused, visibly exhausted and definitely freaked out by the shotgun. And the ropes. And salt, and holly water, and silver knife, and angel blade, and even borax. It was clear in his eyes that he had no idea what was going on. He probably thought he got kidnapped by some madmen who were into black magic and Satanism – oh, sweet irony.

“And he’s not an angel. Or demon or, you know, whatever. We checked him for everything, Dean. He’s plain, old, simple human.”

“So who is he?” Dean’s voice was also tired but Sam knew it went beyond physical exertion. The loss of Bobby and Castiel’s insanity were weighing heavy on their shoulders. Sam supposed that Dean also had just enough of weird crap lately. And finding Lucifer-shaped guy, apparently with amnesia, was a bit too much.

“My guess is that he’s Lucifer’s old vessel, which of course shouldn’t be possible, because of the cage but… it’s the only guess I have here, really”, explained Sam and pinched the bridge of his nose morosely.

He didn’t want to admit it to his brother out loud, but it was really freaking him out, seeing Lucifer…or Lucifer’s vessel like that. Inwardly Sam had known back then that it was just a vessel, but still it was the only actual shape he could associate Lucifer with. Even when he temporarily took on another form, in Sam’s imagination Lucifer always looked like… this guy.

“Nick”, he said to the tied up guy, the name suddenly popping up in his head. “Your name is Nick.”

Dean looked at him, rising eyebrows questioningly. Lucifer’s vessel tilted his head in curiosity mixed with distrust. Sam couldn’t really blame him, they had kidnapped him from the side of the road after all.

“Let’s untie him, Dean.”, decided Sam finally and raised from his chair.

“Hold on a sec, Sam!”, Dean interrupted. “We can’t just let him go! What if he goes to the police and they get on our tail again?!”, reasoned Dean.

Sam knew that Dean had a point. He shook his head, though.

“So what do you suggest? He’s just a human, Dean. And he’s terrified six ways from Sunday. Maybe we can talk him out of going to the police, maybe we can’t. Either way, we can’t just keep him here.”, said Sam firmly, ending the discussion.

Even if Dean grumbled a little afterwards, he got up and begun untying the rope from the man’s wrists. Sam took care of the gag. They were both prepared to duck from a punch Nick may throw but nothing like that happened. Nick simply sat there, massaging his wrists, glaring at them suspiciously.

“So what? You’re just letting me go after all that crap?”, he asked grimly and unbelievingly.

Sam nodded and shrugged. “You’ve heard our conversation. There’s not much more we can tell you anyway.”

They expected a bit more movement at Nick’s part as soon as he got free, but no. He still stared at them, frowning.

“So… you were ready to beat me, torture me, whatever, with no remorse at all, but as soon as you realized I’m actually human and not some freakish monster thing, you’re willing to just let me go…”, the blond man sums up sternly. “Isn’t that racist?”

Dean’s mouth hung open for a second until he got hold of himself. Sam, on the other hand, almost immediately opened his mouth to explain that the difference lied in species, not in race. But suddenly all three of them heard a slightly smug cough coming from the entrance behind Winchester’s backs.

“There you are, Winchesters. I’ve been looking for you.”

III.

The blond man stood over Sam with blood dripping from his face and a machete in his hand. Sam was lying on the cold stone floor, leaning on his arm and panting heavily. His eyes were unfocused and hazy.

“Sammy, are you alright?”, yelled Dean, running closer to him. He held tightly his left forearm, trying to stop the bleeding.

“He probably has a mild concussion”, said the blond man calmly as he put down the machete and kneeled at Sam’s side. He raised Sam’s chin gently and examined his glazed eyes.

Sam blinked a few times, trying to focus his vision for a longer period of time and succeeding after a couple of tries.

“He will be fine”, assessed the blond man. “But a quick checkup at the hospital won’t hurt, I guess.”

Dean eyed him suspiciously.

“I thought you didn’t remember anything.”

“I seem to recall some general knowledge. But I don’t know a single fact about my life.”, explained the blond man bitterly.

“And ‘how to slay a Leviathan’ falls into a box ‘general knowledge’ for you?”, asked Dean sharply, glancing behind himself at the Leviathan’s head and body. Lying separately, both with sizzling burns caused by borax.

“Well, you muttered something about Leviathans while almost drowning me with this cleaner. I’m sorry if my ability to put two and two together is disconcerting to you.”, snarled the blond man, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

Dean opened his mouth to argue some more, but Sam interrupted before he made any sound at all.

“Dean, just leave it. The guy has just saved both our asses. Cut him some slack.”, mumbled Sam, carefully checking the injuries at the back of his head. He hissed quietly as he touched one especially sensitive spot.

That hiss was enough for Dean to forget about every suspicion he might have had and to concentrate solely on his injured brother.

IV.

Dean thought that Nick-or-whoever-the-hell-he-was would take the first opportunity to run as far away from them as possible. Surprisingly, it turned out to be just the opposite. But Dean wasn’t exactly complaining when offered help with burying the Leviathan’s body. Digging graves alone was a real bitch and he wasn’t going to make concussed Sammy help him this time. But Nick just grabbed the second shovel from his trunk and get to work without a second word.

When it was done, all three of them sat in the Impala and drove to the nearest hospital – as Nick simply didn’t have any other way of reaching the town. The church they held him in was in the real wilderness. Dean thought Nick would ask him to drop him off somewhere, but he didn’t, so Dean didn’t offer and drove straight to the hospital.

They didn’t talk during the ride. Only when Sam was finally being checked up did Dean clear his throat quietly and glanced at Nick as they were both standing near some vending machine with snacks.

“I would really appreciate it if you didn’t go to the cops.”, admitted Dean straightforwardly and then cursed himself, because it might have not been the best way to begin a conversation.

But Nick only smirked. “I won’t.”, he said sincerely. “Under one condition.”, he added after a moment.

Dean gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes in irritation. “Yes, of course, there’s always something.”, he muttered.

“You will help me find some information about me. As much as you can.”

Dean’s eyes widened in mild surprise. “That’s all?”, he asked incredulously.

“For me that’s a lot.”, spit Nick, sounding a bit offended.

Dean had the decency to look a bit apologetic.

“Okay, dude.”, he said vigorously. “Then we have a deal!”, he proclaimed. “And believe me, Sammy is the best researcher ever.”

V.

It took a few days for Sam to make a full recovery, but as Nick had diagnosed, it wasn’t anything too serious. That’s why on his first day in the hospital bed Sam already demanded access to his laptop, even though he didn’t seem to need it to tell Nick a few basic things about him.

“Your name is Nick.”, he begun as soon as Dean let him in on the deal he’d made. Nick and Dean sat by his bed, the first one looking as if he wanted to take notes of Sam’s every word.

“You’ve told me that much. But how do you know it? How do we know each other?”, Nick asked curiously.

“We don’t, actually.”, admitted Sam. “But I know a few things about you from… the third party.”, he added cautiously.

“Who? The deal is that you don’t keep anything from me.”, reminded him Nick sharply.

“And I won’t.”, promised him Sam sincerely. “But it’s a long story and we don’t have that much time before the nurse kicks the both of you out. So let me just give you the basics.”

“Fine. Go on with it.”, acceded Nick after a moment’s thought.

Sam sighed in sympathy. “You are a widower. You lost both your wife and your kid when a burglar broke into your house and… I don’t know exactly what happened, I’ll try to find that out but… they both died.”, said Sam quietly. “I’m sorry.”

The silence was stretching and Sam risked a glance at Nick’s face. The man looked… troubled. But not devastated. Rather bitter and confused. He pinched the bridge of his nose and for a moment it seemed like he was desperately trying to remember something, anything actually, but then he just sighed in resignation, shook his head and straightened his back, looking at Sam once again.

“What else can you tell me?”

VI.

In the end the Winchesters decided to take Nick to his hometown in Delaware. They might have felt a bit guilty about trying basically every weapon in their arsenal on the guy, but Nick himself seemed not hold that against them too much. The first few days he spent in their company were a bit tense, but he quickly grew to feel more at ease around them.

When the opportunity arose, Sam and Dean told him more about their job as hunters. They weren’t trying to keep it a secret when they held him tied up in the church, so there was really no point in starting now.

Nick took the news surprisingly well. In the end it turned out it wasn’t that much of a news for him after all.

“It looks that, as weird as it seems, the existence of Heaven, Hell, angels, demons, werewolves, vampires etcetera and also the existence of hunters also falls into ‘general knowledge’ category.”, he explained eventually, when Dean grew too suspicious with him being so unfazed.

“It’s not actually that weird.”, supported him Sam suddenly and hurried with further explanation, looking at Dean. “He was Lucifer’s vessel for a long time, Dean. And when the angel possesses you… there is no wall between your minds and thoughts and knowledge. Of course you know what’s yours and what’s not, but… it sometimes interfuses. And Nick shared a body with Lucifer much longer than I have. Some of Lucifer’s knowledge about the world must have streamed into Nick’s mind.”, reasoned Sam.

Nick decided he liked Sam, because he was able to explain things that Nick himself hadn’t even understood.

VII.

They were about to leave the town when Garth called. Dean rolled his eyes as he listened to gawky man’s rambling, but passed on the message.

“He needs our help in Junction City, Kansas.”

Sam raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Dean, were not exactly free right now.”, he carefully pointed out, glancing behind himself, where Nick sat at the backseat.

“But Garth burned the bones and it didn’t help and two teen boys are dead now.”, pressed Dean.

“Guys”, interrupted suddenly Nick with calm and steady voice. It immediately caught the Winchesters’ attention. “If I remember the map correctly, it will be much easier to go to the Junction City and then to Delaware instead of the other way around. And I’m not in the hurry, really.”, he pointed out simply.

“But we can’t take you on a hunt with us. You’re a civilian.”, bristled Sam.

“I won’t go on a hunt, then. I’ll just wait it up at the motel or in the library or somewhere. I won’t bother you on the job.”, Nick promised.

“And if something goes wrong, we already know that he’s quite good with the machete.”, added Dean smugly, enjoying the win in the discussion.

Sam sighed in defeat, rolled his eyes and kept throwing bitchy glares at Dean for the rest of the ride.

VIII.

It was Sam who first noticed the weird wooden box with Japanese characters on it. It was Garth who helped them steal it – or rather, helped them not to get caught by the police. But surprisingly, it was Nick who deciphered what was on it.

It happened as Sam and Dean came back into the motel room and Sam immediately sat in front of his computer and started googling Japanese restaurants in the area. They had decided it would be best to find some Japanese guy and pay him a few bucks for a quick translation.  

But then Nick put away the newspaper the was reading and glanced curiously at the box they’d brought.

“What’s that?”, he asked, slowly approaching the table it was on.

“Apparently, this box contained some Japanese booze spirit.”, replied Dean absent-mindedly, not even turning back from Sam’s computer screen. “This one is pretty close”, he said to Sam, pointing at some restaurant address on the web.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it too.”, admitted Sam and started writing down the address on some scrap of paper. “Ok, let’s go.”, he said getting up and grabbing his jacket. Then he turned to grab the wooden box, but stopped suddenly, seeing that Nick held it in his hand and was examining it closely.

“Could you…?” Sam waved his hand vaguely. “We need to have this translated quickly.”

Nick didn’t return the box. “Anata ga morau mono wa anata kara mo morau.”, he read instead and then looked up at perplexed and surprised Sam. “Free translation: what you took will be taken from you.”

Sam closed his mouth, because he suddenly realized he’d had it slightly opened.

“You know Japanese? How?”

Nick shrugged. “My guess is as good as yours.”

Then they both heard Dean’s annoyed yelling from the car. “Sam, what are you doing in there?! You can put on your make-up later!”

Sam broke the eye contact between himself and Nick and went out to explain the unanticipated revelation to Dean.

The newly found ability to read Japanese didn’t turn that much in Nick’s favor, at least not in Dean’s eyes. If anything, he became more and more suspicious and didn’t even try to hide it. Actually, it would be a challenge to make it more obvious as Dean grabbed Sam by his arm and pulled him out of the motel to talk in private.

However, walking outside didn’t prevent Nick from observing their whole discussion through the window, what Sam immediately realized when his and Nick’s eyes met. Dean wasn’t aware of it, he was standing back to the door.

“Listen, Sam, I don’t like this. This guy is having too many weird abilities in my opinion.”

“I get it, Dean.”, sighed Sam, glancing briefly at his brother, but then focusing his eyes on Nick again. The angle wasn’t big so Dean didn’t caught the difference. “But what do you suggest we do? We checked him, right? And nothing came up. So maybe we just need to chill with it, ok? He knows Japanese, so what? It doesn’t make him a monster.”

“I’m just saying, we need to keep a close eye on him, man.”, replied Dean humorlessly. As if he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sam couldn’t really blame him, so he just sighed and nodded.

“I agree.”, he admitted finally. “Just… don’t make any rush decisions and don’t overanalyze his abilities. They are a bit unusual and it’s best we keep an eye on him for now. But… don’t look at him like he’s the devil incarnated, okay? Because we checked and he’s not. And nobody deserves that look.”

Dean grudgingly acceded and then he immediately decided he needed a drink. When he disappeared around the corner, Sam looked in the window of their motel room. Nick was still watching. Sam didn’t know why he did it, but he caught Nick’s eye once again and he nodded reassuringly. Just as if he wanted to say, don’t worry, Dean will come around.

IX.

Nick wasn’t meant to come along with Sam to the brewery, but it sort of happened naturally and spontaneously. He was mostly playing the part of the observer this time, yet he stayed by Sam’s side and helped him when the younger Winchester got thrown into the wall by vengeful Shōjō spirit.

Dean killed the monster using the blessed samurai sword and Sam’s slurred directions. Apparently, fighting something you can only see while being drunk is not that much fun as it may sound.

When the danger passed and Sam was about to pull himself up, he noticed a stretched out hand in front of him. He let the surprise flow through him, but took what was offered and let Nick help him. It turned out more needed than Sam would have liked, because he staggered a bit once he was up and had to lean on Nick’s shoulder for a moment. His vision blurred for a couple of seconds and thus he ended up facing Nick’s concerned eyes.

“You had a mild concussion before. I don’t suppose being thrown into the wall had no impact on your head.”, observed Nick, keeping his hands firmly on Sam’s shoulder, stabilizing him just in case he felt weaker on his legs again.

“No hospitals again”, replied Sam firmly.

“In that case resting for a few days is recommended.”, suggested Nick gently.

Sam finally stepped back from him, feeling that the dizziness had gone away.

“How can you rest when you can’t even close your eyes in peace?”, asked Sam bitterly, surprising both Nick and himself.

He didn’t mean to reveal such information. He hadn’t even told Dean nor he had been planning to. His brother had enough on his plate already. He didn’t need the additional burden of the fact that – despite passing the insanity onto Castiel – Sam still couldn’t get away from the nightmares hunting him each and every night. Even when he slept, it gave him only as much rest as he needed to keep his organism going. But he wasn’t going to whine that he was afraid of sleeping. Besides, even if Dean knew, what could he possibly do? It was Sam’s problem and his alone.

Yet this time his mouth acted before the thought reached his mind.

“I thought the hallucination of Lucifer is gone?”, recalled Nick carefully.

“It is, but… The nightmares are…” Sam hesitated and then deflated quickly. “Never mind.”, he muttered dismissively and went past Nick to get to Dean.

He wasn’t going to talk about his nightmares. Especially not to the shape that created most of them.

X.

Sam would have never expected that his nightmare problem will be solved by the plainest thing ever – one a bit overcrowded motel. In the middle of the way to Delaware they decided on one night of semi-decent sleep, so they drove off the highway.

Sam cannot recall now what caused the tones of people to come into the small town they stopped at – some concert or convention – but as a result they had to take one room for all three of them. Up to that moment Nick had been sleeping in a separate one, partly because at first he’d been uncomfortable with their presence, partly because later Dean became uncomfortable with his. Apparently, speaking Japanese equaled the lurking evil, in Dean’s mind.

This time, though, much to Dean’s annoyance, they ended up with only one key. And only two beds.

“I’ll take the floor, no problem”, offered Nick immediately.

“No need. I’ll do it.”, protested Sam and cast him a meaningful glance. It’s not like I’m gonna have a good night’s sleep anyway, he wanted to add by this. To his surprise, Nick seemed to get it.

Sam, as per usual those days, didn’t really expect to get any decent sleep at all. In the evening he simply stole Dean’s bedside lamp, laid it on a floor next to his pillow and curled himself under a blanket in the corner of the room. Dean had been already fast asleep and Nick was taking a shower. But as he came out of the bathroom and sat on the bed, he focused his attention to Sam instead of going to sleep.

Sam noticed it after a few seconds and glanced up, raising his eyebrow questioningly. The only sound in the room was not-so-silent Dean’s snoring.

“What is it?”, he asked finally.

Nick laid down and propped his head on his palm. His eyes were glittering in mild interest.

“What are your nightmares about?”, Nick dared to ask after a couple of seconds.

Sam’s eyes glanced towards Dean first, making sure he’s asleep. Even though Sam was still uncomfortable in Nick’s presence, he felt it was easier for him to share the content of nightmares with the previous Lucifer’s vessel than with his own brother. That realization itself made him think of Ruby and a small chill crossed his spine quickly.

Sam put this dreadful feeling aside, though, and took a deep breath.

“Hell, mostly.”, he admitted quietly. But he knew that wasn’t really a revelation.

“You don’t seem much shaken by that fact alone.”, observed Nick casually. “It’s not really about the content of the nightmares, is it?”, he guessed.

His tone was gentle and non-pressuring. Maybe that’s what made Sam want to continue this talk, the fact that Nick didn’t really expect nor demand answers. Or maybe it was because Nick seemed to be completely non-judgmental in his attitude. And also quite not willing to share with Dean whatever Sam was about to tell him.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”, muttered Sam right under his breath, but Nick heard him anyway. The room was way to quiet not to understand the whisper.

“The hallucination of Lucifer… it kept me awake all the time. Whenever I somehow managed to fall asleep, he woke me up with yelling or detonating something right by my ear or… you know, whatever he… it… deemed loud enough. After a while I got terrified by the sole thought of closing my eyes, because I knew he would appear. Dean took me to the mental hospital, because I was losing it. But of course they couldn’t help me with Lucifer and the medication they gave me didn’t work on me either, the hallucination made sure of it. I was on the verge of dying from the lack of sleep when Castiel – and we’ve already told you that part – transferred the insanity into his own mind. So that kind of saved me, I don’t see Lucifer anymore.” Sam glanced up at Nick a bit nervously, as if he wondered if he could add except from you, because you’re a bit Lucifer for me too, but he kept his mouth shut. “But the thing is… even though I don’t see him anymore, I’m somehow still scared that he would appear. And it’s not really conscious thing on my part, rationally I know I’m healed, but… my organism seems not to have got the memo. Even if I manage to fall asleep, I still jerk awake after maximum three or four hours, as if my body wanted to protect me from Lucifer’s way of waking me up. And I can’t help feeling like I’m on the verge of a panic attack every time I try to sleep… So yeah, that’s not really about the content…” Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably and continued staring into a floor covering.

“I really wish I could help you somehow.”, offered Nick sincerely, but Sam almost laughed bitterly upon hearing it.

Because he might have revealed some things to Nick, but he also kept to himself some more. Actually, it was Sam’s sympathy for the guy that stopped him from adding that this panic-attack thing wasn’t really a problem until Nick had appeared. That Sam had actually had no problem sleeping immediately after leaving the psych ward. But it would be too much for the guy, knowing that he was the direct cause of Sam’s sleeping problems – Nick seemed morose and confused even without that knowledge.

Still, the offer sounded a bit ridiculous to Sam’s ears.

“I’ll be fine.”, replied Sam reassuringly.

“I hope you can get some sleep tonight.” Nick’s voice was a bit sleepy already, but gentle and sincere. That fact alone made Sam feel bitter. Because on one hand, he knew the solution to his problem. Getting to Delaware, finalizing their deal with Nick and leaving him far far behind. But on the other, he didn’t want to think of Nick as a burden. He didn’t want to consider him as a problem to overcome and a thing to get rid of, even if it would probably help him a lot. His mind knew that the man wasn’t a perpetrator, but a victim. Yet, Sam wished his heart would realize that too.

“I hope so too.”, Sam muttered finally, even if a bit skeptically. “Goodnight.”, he added.

“Goodnight.”, whispered Nick and cocooned himself into blanket. It took him only a couple of seconds to fall asleep and Sam felt a pang of jealousy seeing that.

He was planning on reading a book, but found himself observing Nick instead. The curve of his jaw and the shape of his slightly parted lips. Also his disheveled hair suddenly looked more pert than intimidating. Nick’s expressions often mimicked Lucifer’s, but even if Sam’s heart almost stopped once or twice, this feeling always passed after a second, because the whole Nick’s posture was simply so different than Lucifer’s. Nick wasn’t trying to look threatening. He was sometimes rather shy, even though he quickly learned to overcome that feeling.

Sam realized after a moment that his breath stabilized and matched Nick’s. Soon after that, he fell asleep, not having read even a single word, with a book lying on his chest.

Sam woke up six hours later, completely bewildered by the lack of nightmares.

XI.

The cemetery in Delaware was meant to be the end of their journey with Nick. As they walked through the gates, Sam felt a pang of regret that they part ways so soon. He didn’t dare to mention that aloud, because Dean wouldn’t share those feelings. He couldn’t wait to get back on the road in the sole company of Sam again.

Sam realized he’d been talking to Nick a lot more than Dean had. Well, when they were on the road, the conversation didn’t go smoothly at all. But as soon as Dean fell asleep, suddenly the tension in the air disappeared and Sam found himself talking to Nick quite a lot before sleeping. 

It was just a couple of days and Sam realized he wished he stayed with them a bit longer.

Before they went to the cemetery, Sam told Nick everything he’d found about his family. Nick’s parents were dead, he’d been raised in an orphanage, actually. His last name was Morton. Wife and kid, as Sam had said before, dead. The only other piece of information that Sam found was that Nick quit his job after the tragedy that had happened to him. The murderer was never caught. In the police records Nick himself was marked as missing.

The familiar surroundings didn’t help Nick get back his memories. As they were driving through the streets of his city of birth, Nick only sighed once a while and scanned every building, every monument and every tree in the hopes that he will recall something, anything. But all of that was for nothing. Going to the cemetery to see the graves of his family was the last resort.

XII.

Nick stood over the grave in silence. Sam tried to read the emotions on his face, but to no avail. His countenance looked as if engraved in stone itself. The only sign proving he was alive was the occasional blinking.

After what felt like hours, but was actually no more than ten minutes, Nick whispered in broken voice:

“I don’t remember them, Sam.”

Dean decided to stay in the Impala and wait, Sam was not sure why. Maybe the cemetery made him remember that he actually killed Nick at one point, while shooting Lucifer with a colt. But that was only an unconfirmed hypothesis on Sam’s part.

But Dean’s absence enabled Sam to do the thing he probably wouldn’t otherwise. He came closer to Nick and put a hand on his shoulder in a comforting way.

“I should remember”, continued Nick in a tight voice. “If I don’t remember them, then what is left of their existence? I should be the one to cherish the memories of them, to pray for them if needed. And now… I don’t even remember my wife’s smile. I know her only from the pictures you’ve found…” Nick looked up, facing Sam with bitterness visible in his blue eyes. “All of this was for nothing. I hoped you could help me trigger some memories, but that’s useless. There’s nothing in here!”, he yelled suddenly, grabbing his head and squeezing it as if it could extrude some memories from his mind.

“Calm down, Nick!” Sam tightened fingers of his both hands on Nick’s wrists and brought his hands down, making the man stop clutching his hair. “It’s not your fault!”

“It’s my brain’s fault!”

“And we can’t do anything about it!”, reminded him Sam fiercely. “So take a few deep breaths and calm yourself.”

“But how can I decide what to do with my life, if I have no idea what it looked like before? I have no idea who I was! So how can I decide who I wanna be?!”

“You will manage.”, assured him Sam with confidence that surprised them both.

“How can you know that?”

Sam smiled smugly.

“You survived being Lucifer’s vessel. You survived the Apocalypse. So get your shit together and have some faith in yourself, because I can’t tell you how much you can achieve in your life, but I’m sure it’s a lot. Just. Figure. It. Out.”

XIII.

What Sam advised, Nick did. But the conclusion he came to surprised both Winchester brothers.

“Let me help you hunt Leviathans.”, he asked some time later, his voice filled with determination.

Dean was too surprised to see that Sam’s eyes began to shine joyfully, even though the younger was also dazed by Nick’s request.

And so it happened. It wasn’t easy, of course, to convince Dean, but Sam realized how determined he became to make it happen. The moment Nick come up with this idea, Sam felt like he could breathe again, despite not having felt the difficulties before. And still it was as if someone took a giant weight off his chest, so Sam immediately approved of Nick’s prolonged stay. After a couple of fights, Dean was finally convinced by the “you wanted to keep an eye on him anyway” argument.

The plan was that Sam and Dean carry on hunting, while Sam gives Nick the Hunting 101 course in the meantime. In the perfect world it might have actually worked, but instead, Nick got in the middle of ghost party when the fellow hunter Anne Hawkins called for Winchester’s help. Dean, despite his suspicions and overall skepticism towards Nick’s persona, he had to admit that the guy handled himself really well in his first confrontation with the ghost. He quickly got a grip on what the iron could do and didn’t hesitate to make use of that knowledge.

When they met Charlie Bradbury, it was the first time that Sam got the feeling he would struggle to identify for a couple of weeks. The moment they explained everything to her and introduced themselves, Charlie began glancing between Sam and Nick curiously. It was as if she wondered about something, but Sam couldn’t really understand what it was, so he just kept feeling a bit weird.

When it came the time to say goodbye to their little redhead hacker, Sam noticed that she approached Nick and whispered a few words to his ear. Nick just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head smiling sadly in the response. Sam never really found out what she’d told him that day.

The life went on quickly. Nick kept staying in a separate room in every motel they chose, but sometimes the crowded situation repeated. Sam didn’t really mind those times. Watching Nick sleep had a calming effect on his nerves and he found himself lost in thoughts more than once when he observed the man. He kept coming up with many more or less plausible theories about how Nick is still alive and why he is not sitting safely in heaven. And how come his body is so unscathed?  

Nick, on the other hand, tried to get to know as much as possible about Sam and Dean’s previous life and the monsters they’d fought. Eventually, he found the Supernatural book series, much to Dean and Sam’s embarrassment. Dean fought tooth and nail to stop Nick from reading the series, but to no avail. Nick had strong arguments – “There are invaluable information about everything you’ve ever encountered!” – and also many clever hiding places.

Sam didn’t try to prevent Nick from reaching for the books, but actually got pretty upset once Nick stated to read them. He suddenly realized he didn’t want Nick to know about all those fucked up things he’d done. Especially about Ruby and demon blood. But still, once Nick begun, there was nothing for Sam to do but wait for his reaction.

It turned out to be much different than expected.

XIV.

Right before the most prominent encounter – and actually the final one – with Dick Roman, when everything was set and prepared, the plans basically printed in everyone’s brains, the bones and the samples of blood safely waiting for use, Sam realized he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t exactly surprising and Sam suspected that Dean also just pretended to be asleep for his benefit, but Sam also realized he could no longer stay in his bed and star at yellowish ceiling. He couldn’t take this wondering and second guessing each step any minute longer, so suddenly he just got up and decided to walk around the motel to get some fresh air that maybe, hopefully, would clear his mind.

What he didn’t expect is that he would find Nick sitting by one of the wooden tables with long benches right outside the motel with a fifth Supernatural book.

“Can’t sleep?”, asked Nick gently when he noticed Sam on the porch.

“Yeah, it’s too hot in there”, replied Sam, even though they both knew the temperature wasn’t the real reason.

“I know what you mean.”, admitted Nick and moved on the bench to make some space so that Sam could sit next to him. Which he did. And maybe, just maybe, Sam chose to sit a bit closer than it was necessary and took a look over Nick’s shoulder to see which part of his life Nick had been reading about.

“So… what do you think?”, Sam asked quietly, glancing at the cover.

“Of?”

“Of the book.”, clarified Sam, even though what he meant was of my life.

Nick smirked.

“Well, the author is not the best writer in the world, I must admit”, he commented noncommittally.

“Yeah, maybe that’s why the series is not very popular, thank God”, replied Sam with a short laugh.

“And yet it still made its way to the Internet…”, observed Nick casually, closely watching Sam to catch his reaction.

“Oh no, tell me you didn’t find that fanfiction thing!”, exclaimed Sam with a horrifying realization, that yes, Nick had.

In response Nick smiled so pertly that Sam barely stopped himself from hiding face in his hands.

“I don’t even wanna know what you’ve found…”, Sam muttered helplessly.

“Well, if I could erase it from my mind, I would gladly do it”, admitted Nick, but still kept smiling with just the corner of his mouth. Sam realized that he might be sitting too close to the man if he noticed that smile so effortlessly. But he also thought that moving away from him suddenly would make this situation much more uncomfortable, so he just stayed where he’d been.

“If I can live with the memories of hell, then you can definitely live with the knowledge about Wincest or Destiel or I don’t wanna know what else”, assured him Sam.

“I sure hope so.”, laughed Nick shortly and glanced briefly at his companion.

The silence that stretched between them was far from uncomfortable. Sam liked that, because he rarely experienced such thing with people, maybe except Dean. Actually, when Sam thought about it, Nick was the first person since a very long time that he was in tough with for so long. Probably since collage. Mostly, whoever he met, it was for just for a moment. Meeting, chatting, killing some monster, saving some people, leaving. And repeat. But now, having Nick by their side was refreshing. Even Dean slowly stopped glaring at him every other minute, as if the blond man just waited for the opportunity to slash their throats.

However, their deal was temporary and now that they were about to kill the Leviathans for good, Sam started to dread the parting again, this time much more intensively. He’d grown to like the man, his subtle inquiries that never demanded any answer if he was uncomfortable giving one. His devilish smile that was yet so far from this broken and cruel eyes that belonged to Lucifer. And also his pleasant personality that asked many questions about current reality and slowly came up with his own opinions on many matters, yet stayed clear of any mistakes he might have made in the past. Nick was definitely a grown man, but sometimes his past-free life made him similar to a child. Nick himself learned to like the freedom his memory loss offered, and Sam sometimes felt a bit jealous of that fact.

“Hey, are you alright?”, asked Nick suddenly, waking Sam up from his thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry. Just can’t stop thinking.”, replied Sam, combing his hair with the fingers of his right hand.

“I think we are as much prepared as we possibly can”, said Nick gently. “No point in worrying about it now.”

“You know me. I wouldn’t be me without some worrying.”, replied Sam, smiling casually.

“Yes, I do. But I can still try to ease you.”

As soon as Nick acknowledged knowing Sam, younger Winchester realized that it may actually be true. Maybe not as a lifelong friend would know him, but still, Nick knew quite a lot of things about him. Right now he might be one of exactly two people who know him to such extent, the second being of course his brother. And that fact alone made Nick… Sam didn’t know whom exactly, but someone definitely valuable.

XV.

The plan to kill Dick Roman has been successful. The bone worked and the world was safe once again from the supernatural danger.

But…

Dean and Cas have been cast to the purgatory.

“It looks like you are well and truly… on your own”, said Crowley and his voice vibrated through the room. Sam heard a snap of fingers and both the King and the prophet disappeared.

Sam just looked for a while at the spot where they have just been, not being sure how to react. Crowley’s words were circling in his skull and Sam desperately tried to avoid thinking about them.

No Dean.

No Castiel.

Alone.

Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.

ALONE.

Defeated enemy. Broken Impala. Empty room.

Everything was gone.

All he could do was… walk away.

Sam caught himself looking around the room, scrutinizing it, as if inwardly hoping that Dean would reappear. But his conscious mind knew it wouldn’t happen. Dean was gone.

Sam turned around, meaning to walk away. But as he glanced at the door, a familiar figure stopped him in the midstep.

When Sam noticed the worried look Nick sent him, he reassured him faintly:

“I’m not injured.”

Fist he wanted to say he was fine, but realized that wouldn’t be true. But as he walked out of the feral room with Nick a few steps ahead of him, Sam realized another thing: he may not have been fine. But the other thing he wasn’t, was ALONE.

Screw you, Crowley.

Chapter Text

I.

“We should just go our separate ways”, suggested Sam finally, when three weeks have passed and they haven’t found one single useful information about the purgatory. Nick had been waiting for a suggestion like that for a couple of days now. He had noticed the signs of resignation appearing on Sam’s face more and more often, his focus getting lost and his research into the books getting sloppy, as if Sam lost faith that he could actually find a clue.

“I could leave if you think that’s for the best.”, began Nick carefully, meeting Sam’s eyes above the pages of yet another very mystical book in a yet another exceptionally antique library. He sighed, not hiding sadness welling up in his chest. “But I don’t think the solitude will bring you the relief you are looking for.”

Sam avoided his gaze and combed hair with his fingers. Nick noticed resignation painted on his face.

“Only finding the way out of the purgatory will bring me the relief.”, replied Sam stiffly. “But what I’m looking for doesn’t matter anymore. It’s pointless. It’s time to leave those books, leave the library. You should go and live your life.”, prompted him Sam, even though his tone of voice betrayed that he didn’t have similar plans for himself.

Nick slowly closed the book he had been reading, as if giving himself the time to come up with a proper response. Finally his lips twitched in a grotesque caricature of a smile.

“Sam, I don’t have a life”, he reminded, but didn’t stop there, seeing that Sam was getting ready to protest to this statement. “Except…”, Nick hesitated, because his thoughts on the matter were surprisingly clear, but the thought of wording them out loud made him uneasy.

“Except…?”, prompted him Sam, but he obviously sensed Nick’s feelings, because his tone became quieter and more gentle, as if trying to be inviting. Nick still wasn’t sure it was the best time, but he found himself backed in a corner with the conversation.

“Except from you.”, he breathed finally, suddenly avoiding Sam’s gaze, but not because he felt embarrassed. He just got lost in his own thoughts about Sam’s possible reaction and the rapid inhale of breath he heard from the other side of the table didn’t really boost his courage to look up. “You are the only one I have left.”, he decided to add after a couple of long seconds.

He also refrained from pointing out that the last statement could apply both ways.

Finally Sam gathered up the thoughts to reply. His voice sounded as if he tried to stay calm, but firm at the same time,  but he had trouble getting it under control.

“You can’t build your whole life around me.” It was meant to be more categorical, but came out sad with threads of resignation penetrating out of it.

“Why not?”, challenged him Nick, even though his voice wasn’t defiant, but rather curious. Nick knew the possible answers Sam may give, thought about them before, but still wondered which one the other man would actually pick. Either way, Nick was no longer confused in his views. He could stand his ground and with time more and more personality became revealed from the depths of his amnesia consumed mind.  Sam began to notice that when he wanted, Nick could be exceptionally stubborn. This was one of the situations when he recognized that Nick’s stubbornness was coming to the surface and that the man has some particular goal in his mind for this conversation.

“Because you deserve better”, Sam replied finally. “You deserve to have a life and you won’t get that around me.”, he clarified after a moment’s thought.

“And that is because?”, prompted him Nick to continue and Sam knew right then that it was some kind of an elaborate scheme designed to check-mate him into this corner, but somehow instead of fighting it as he normally would, Sam got curious about what Nick got in store for him.

“Just look at me, Nick.”, began Sam, and even though he was consciously stepping into Nick’s trap, he meant every single word he was saying. “I lost everything. I don’t even know which way to turn. I can hunt, but without Dean I’m just a guy who started the Apocalypse. I can drive, but without Dean the Impala is not my home. I can do research, but without Dean there is nothing I have to look for. I am nothing without him. And there is nothing for you to stay for.”

Nick might have expected the answer like that, but it still hurt him to the core. Not the words itself, but the fact that Sam genuinely seemed to think so low of himself. It was actually surprising that he got Sam to admit those feelings out loud, because what Sam thought and what Sam showed didn’t usually match. Nick noticed that even when being on the verge of depression, Sam could still carry on, putting on a brave face of a determined and fearless hunter he was.

“Right here? Right now? Yeah, I agree. There is nothing for me to stay for.”, Nick admitted casually, conveniently ignoring the first part of Sam’s response. “That’s why something needs to change. We need to change something.”, corrected himself Nick in the middle of the thought. “You are right, let’s take a break from the books. We have to take our minds off the purgatory for a while.”

“I gather that you have something specific in mind?”, asked Sam, strangely pleased that their conversation went off from the previous path, even though he was the one who brought it up.  

“Actually, I do. I think there is a case waiting for us in Kermit, Texas.”

Nick dropped newspaper on the table right in front of Sam, just as if he had it with him all along.

II.

When Sam thought about it two months later, it occurred to him that it was the conversation that began changing their relationship. Or maybe the only thing that actually changed was that Sam started paying attention to Nick in the ways he hasn’t before.

All in all, Sam decided much later, the kiss shouldn’t have come to him as a surprise. But it did.

They went to Kermit, dealt with the haunted house, and as they were leaving, Sam hit an Australian Shepherd with the side of his car. Both of them jumped out of the vehicle and run frantically towards the injured animal. After making sure the dog was still alive, Sam took off his jacket and used it to carry Shepherd into the Impala, whereas Nick looked for the nearest animal clinic on his phone.

In the clinic they met a fierce but beautiful veterinarian that basically guilt-talked them into keeping the dog. And the dog needed some time to fully recover, which was one of the reasons Nick suggested that they stay. Or maybe Nick had something like that in mind even before, Sam would never know for sure.

“Well, Mrs Cheguerra would rent us that house for a low price”, added Sam, considering the proposal and bearing in mind the owner of the haunted place. She even verbalized her concerns that nobody would want to rent that from her now that it was known to be haunted.

“Yes, she would.”, admitted Nick. “So the only real question is: do we want to stay or not?” And his tone of voice spoke clearly that Nick had already decided for himself and just prompted Sam to make the decision himself.

“We could try.”, conceded Sam eventually. “But I need to warn you that trying to build a normal life has never ended well for me.”

In reply, Nick just glanced at Sam with a wicked smile and shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, nobody said it has to be completely normal, Sam.”

III.

Many things stayed the same. They kept hunting things and saving people. They also kept looking for information about the purgatory, read books, asked around, found many leads and met even more dead ends. The usual.

But also many other things changed. They stayed at one place, in Kermit. They lived in an actual house with garden and neighbors, instead of Impala. But even the Impala had a house of its own, as Nick observed looking at the garage next to the house. Apart from that, they also worked on a semi-regular basis, Sam as a mechanic in a nearby motel and Nick as a bartender in a local bar. They sometimes missed the working hours because of some monster of the week, but it didn’t happen all too often. At least not so often that they wouldn’t be able to explain their absence with a sudden flu or a cold.

Amelia wasn’t their neighbor, but she lived in the motel Sam worked in, so she somehow made her way into their lives. At first she seemed distant and distrustful, but seeing the dog – Riot – recovered, well-fed, groomed and overall really happy slowly changer her attitude. Soon she became their frequent guest, at first coming to check Riot’s health and later just to drink coffee in their company and sometimes exchange book reviews.

Sam has always been a bookworm, and even if this habit died down during the Apocalypse and other supernatural big bad’s, he promptly returned to reading at least one book per week as soon as he found the time. Also, it turned out that the Supernatural series was just the beginning for Nick, because soon their house got filled with tones of titles, many of which were just pure classics. Lord of The Rings, Harry Potter, Pride and Prejudice (which made Sam laugh every time he thought about the sight of Lucifer’s vessel reading that book), Year 1984, Alice in the Wonderland, Crime and Punishment and of course the Bible. Many of those, but especially the last one, brought about a lot of nightly discussions.

“Hey, has something happened?”, asked Sam, entering the living room, where Nick sat on the couch and stared at the wall with a thousand miles stare. In his hands there was an open book, but he paid no attention to it. When he heard Sam’s voice, it looked as if some charm was broken, because he blinked at looked back at Sam.

“No, why?” He seemed genuinely surprised.

“Because you are staring at the wall for no apparent reason?” Sam came closer to the couch to see the title of the book in Nick’s hands.

The Bible.

“I’m just thinking…” Nick shrugged dismissively.

“About God?” Sam kept pressing, because he saw that something wasn’t right in Nick’s countenance. And Sam wasn’t sure what he expected, but still felt chill running across his spine when he heard the answer.

“No. About Lucifer.”

Even though Sam’s first thought was to run away, maybe even literally, from this topic, he stopped himself from doing it. It wasn’t fair towards Nick. He had been a vessel just as Sam, he is bound to have questions. And maybe Sam wasn’t the one who owed him the answers, but certainly didn’t want to be the one to leave him alone with this problem either. So instead of staying away, Sam sat beside Nick, trying to keep his face neutral, even though a bitter feeling started welling up in his stomach.

“So? What about him?”, asked Sam noncommittally.

Nick glanced up at Sam, immediately noticing his unwillingness to have this conversation. But he decided to respect Sam’s choice on that matter, so he replied:

“I have mixed feelings about him.”, confessed Nick quietly, as if lowering the voice might have reduced the impact of the statement. He put away the Bible and looked directly in Sam’s eyes.

Sam really, really didn’t want this conversation to go that way. But the only thing he could think of doing was to keep digging.

“Mixed – how?”, he asked, doubting that he wants to know the answer. Nick just sighed, also expecting that Sam wouldn’t like his words. So instead of telling what he had in mind he decided to ask:

“Tell me, do you think he lied to you?” It was question posed out of genuine curiosity. And, as Sam observed, he wasn’t being asked about facts, but about his opinion.

Sam licked his lips nervously, suddenly feeling stressed and uneasy.

“When?”, asked Sam, even though both of them immediately realized he was stalling and nothing more.

“Whenever”, replied Nick and after his words the atmosphere in the room rapidly changed for worse. The air seemed more stiff and heavy and Sam looked as if he had trouble focusing his thoughts on the matter. Nick could almost see that Sam’s mind got flooded with memories and remnants of Lucifer, each conversation with him playing in rewind.

Finally, Sam swallowed a bit louder than usually and wiped his palms on his trousers in a sign of uneasiness.

“What do you mean?”, he asked once again, his voice stiff and his throat tightened.

“You know what I mean”, replied Nick calmly. “Do you think he lied to you?”, he repeated with patience.

Sam’s nervousness got suddenly replaced by anger.

“Why does it matter? We’re talking about the Devil!”, he huffed and combed hair with his fingers, desperately trying to find something to do with his hands.

The room was quiet for a couple of long seconds.

“You are aware he never lied to you.”, said Nick quietly and Sam got mortified by those words.

“It doesn’t change anything.”, replied Sam stiffly, not looking at Nick at all.

“Doesn’t it?”, questioned Nick contemplatively. “Doesn’t it… make you wonder?”

“About Lucifer?” Sam’s voice was bordering on unbelieving. “I try not to think about him any more than necessary.”, stated Sam sharply. His voice sounded a bit too adamant for something he would truly believe in.

“Then I won’t bother you with my musings.”, replied Nick a bit coldly, as if he was somehow offended by Sam’s fierce response. Sam sighed regretfully as he watched Nick grab the Bible and stiffly leave the room.

IV.

At first Sam thought that this little almost-argument wouldn’t influence atmosphere in the house too much, but he soon realized his mistake. It wasn’t that Nick got so offended that he stubbornly didn’t want to talk. No. At the beginning Sam didn’t even notice what was off between them. But one evening, when he was already lying in his bed and trying to fall asleep, the realization stoke him as a lightning. Since their conversation about Lucifer, Nick stopped sharing his opinions with Sam. And even though he was generally a stubborn man, Sam didn’t think that character trait was to blame this time. No, it rather looked like Nick decided to stop speaking his mind because he was afraid of Sam’s reaction to his views. He started carefully choosing his words around Sam, as if constantly walking on a thin ice. And as soon as this observation appeared in Sam’s mind, he decided that he cannot take this anymore. It made him strangely uneasy. He didn’t want to make Nick feel defensive around him, because… with Dean gone and Bobby dead, Nick was the only one left. The only person who he could talk freely with, no secrets, no lies, no barriers. And Sam decided that he ought to bring this comfortable atmosphere back.

As he thought about it, it was the first time it occurred to him how relaxed it was before. Sam hadn’t paid much attention to how he felt around Nick, which now occurred to him was a mistake. Nick’s presence calmed him down, put his mind at ease – at ease that Sam hadn’t felt since… since his college days when he had a safe place to come back to, somebody to come back to and a future to look forward to. Neither of those appeared any time later in his life.

Sam wasn’t sure about his future now, but still with the two first things fulfilled he felt a new strange feeling appearing in his chest every time he thought about how his life looked at the moment. He missed Dean like crazy, there was no denying of that fact, but on the other hand Sam slowly became ready to move on. Not entirely, not to the point of losing interest in the purgatory, but to the point of stopping, letting himself relax for a while, letting himself take a deeper breath for once. And for this state of mind there was one person Sam should thank.

But in order to acknowledge Nick’s influence on his life, at first Sam had to brace himself for the conversation he dreaded. So he tried to brace himself for the couple of days, but to no avail – because the more the thought about this matter, the more he realized that the problem didn’t lie in preparing himself for the unwanted topic. The crux wasn’t in talking about Lucifer. It was in talking about Lucifer openly, with no inhibitions, no omissions and no half-truths. Nick simply wouldn’t buy them, he dug too deep into that topic, read the Supernatural series too many times, analyzed the Bible too thoroughly. And what is more, he came to his own conclusions and came up with new set of questions that Sam would have to answer. Also, he was not blinded by what he wanted to believe about Sam, he had no expectations of what the answers should be – he had genuinely open, yet inquisitive and analytic mind.

The worst thing for Sam – or maybe just the most difficult one – was admitting that there was a part of him that was thrilled to finally have an opportunity to talk with somebody about Lucifer. Because every single thought Sam ever had concerning Lucifer was deeply buried in the furthest corners of his mind, long lost and almost forgotten. He made it so because he was frightened that one day those thoughts may come to light – may reach Dean – and he would have to face disappointment on his brother’s face again. And he wouldn’t be even able to defend himself, for he was disappointed and ashamed in himself as well. Or maybe these words were even too soft, to euphemistic to convey the whole range of Sam’s feelings towards himself. The fact was that Sam made desperate effort not to think of Lucifer, because thinking would result in coming to his own conclusions, and that was something Sam tried to avoid at all costs. He knew that he would not like anything his mind would come up with concerning Lucifer’s persona, that it would only put more burden on his shoulders.

But on the other hand it was dangerously tempting to just let go of these concerns for once, to just speak with no fear of being judged, without being afraid to look up the companions eyes, without the risk of seeing them filled with the lack of understanding. Because as strange as it may seem, Sam was almost certain that Nick would be able to understand him, at least to some tiny extent. But anything was better than nothing, which was the only thing he could have ever expected from the rest of the world in that particular matter.

Sam felt a shiver running though his spine every time that thought came to his mind. It reminded him of Ruby – the greatest mistake of his life. All those emotions curled into his stomach, the need for understanding, walking near the line of morally doubtful ideas. Every time Sam wanted to succumb to the temptation, his mind was planting to him the thought of history repeating itself. The worst thing about this situation was that Sam noticed he started to lose the sense of right and wrong again. Because opening up about Lucifer, even peeping through the door that had been long locked and with the key deeply buried – it was definitely not something to be considered right. At least not for most people and certainly not for Dean, who worked as a moral compass for Sam for the most part of the decade now, since Sam didn’t really trust his judgement after Ruby, even if he sometimes tried to convince himself otherwise.

But now Dean was gone and Sam had to make his own choices in the matter of right and wrong. And the longer he thought about it, the less wrong this idea looked like and the more appealing. He had to talk to Nick, had to make things right with him. And there was nobody to judge him for his deeds, not for the time being anyway. So maybe, Sam decided, it was time to risk it. Follow the emotions for the first time since Ruby. Try trusting himself.

Maybe it was the time to dig up the key to that long lost door, to stop being afraid of what’s behind them. Because behind the door or not, it was still a part of him, a part of who Sam was.

Fortunately, digging up what had been hidden was literally a part of Sam’s resume.

V.

It happened on a Saturday, or maybe it was Sunday already? Sam couldn’t be sure, he didn’t bother to look at the watch after Nick came back from his shift.

As Nick entered the biggest room in their house, the one shared with a kitchen, he noticed Sam sitting at the table, slowly drinking a beer.

“You were waiting for me?” Nick’s voice was quiet, but surprised.

“Yeah. I bought beer.”, replied Sam as if it explained everything. It did not, but Nick decided not to question Sam’s motives, he simply sat beside him on a chair and grabbed the bottle that had been apparently waiting just for him.

The bottle cap fizzed, cutting the silence that had fallen between them.

“So?”, prompted him Nick after taking a first sip.

Sam cleared his throat and combed hair with his fingers, which Nick noticed he was doing every time he got uneasy.

“You wanted to talk about Lucifer.”, breathed Sam finally. He looked up just to see Nick’s eyes widening in astonishment.

“We don’t have to. You didn’t want to raise that topic.”, said Nick quickly, reminding Sam of the fact that he excellently recalled on his own. But Sam’s ear caught that his tone was defensive and withdrawn.

“I wanted to bury my head in the sand.”, admitted Sam stiffly. “But I’m done with that.”

Nick took a while to regard Sam carefully. What he looked for, Sam would never know, but when he met Nick’s eyes with determination painted on his face, Nick seemed to find it and so he relented.

“If you are sure.” Nick nodded, and fell silent, giving Sam time to gather his thoughts.

He observed calmly as Sam fiddled with his bottle, turning it alternately left and right and then left again. The room was dimly lit, as the sconce on the wall was the only source of illumination. Nick, even though he had already been exhausted from his day long shift and even though before he saw Sam he had been thinking only of sleeping, suddenly felt awake again. His mind sharpened in the matter of seconds and his ears opened to catch Sam’s every single word.

But Sam looked as if he didn’t know how to begin.

“What do you want to know?”, he asked finally with a hint of desperation in his voice, with one sole look of his eyes pleading Nick to help him, to guide him during this conversation.

For a moment Nick considered calling it all off and walking away. Remembering what the previous try brought them, he realized that this conversation might cause even more distress than the last one. But then again, Sam was not mistaken in noticing how stubborn Nick could be.

“I wanna know what exactly you think of Lucifer. How you feel about him.”

So that was it. Sam knew he needed to start talking now, or he would miss yet another opportunity to get it over with. But the words proved to be terribly difficult to push through his throat.

“I acted like I was somehow better than him.”, Sam began at last, his voice quiet and shaken. “Like I had the right to judge him, like I had the right to punish him. But I know, I knew even then that… I don’t. And that I am no better than him, but also not worse than him. I… I could actually understand every decision he ever made and… and that scares me like nothing ever before.”

“What do you mean by ‘understand’ exactly?”, asked Nick curiously but – and that was the thing Sam had been hoping for – without derision in his voice.

“Like…”, began Sam, but licked his lips before he could finish. “…like I would do the same thing in his place.” He took yet another deep breath and continued, because it appeared that Nick was waiting for more. “It doesn’t mean I would be proud of myself for doing it, that I would think of myself as a good person, but… But the choices I have made before I met him indicate that the path he’d chosen is the same path I would choose in his position. He was fueled by anger, by the need to have the last word and to prove he had been right all along. And I may not like to admit it, but all these feelings were at some point my feelings. And I believe that is what actually makes me his True Vessel.”, explained Sam almost on one breath, as if he wanted to get rid of those words as quickly as possible. But both of them knew it was just the beginning of their discussion.

“I wonder…”, began Nick quietly in a ponderous manner, as if he was about to bring up a scientific matter worth discussing. “What’s the difference between the two of you?”, he asked, looking up at Sam.

Sam winced and then froze. “What?”, he asked sharply, threads of anger appearing in his voice.

“Oh” Nick immediately realized mistake in his wording. “I didn’t mean to suggest there is none.”, he amended quickly. “Quite the opposite.”, he emphasized deeply and explained further, “I simply observed that you and Lucifer, as you say, were so similar, and yet your final actions differed so much. And it makes me wonder why, because from the same seed grown two completely different trees – and there has to be a reason for that disparity.”

And just like that, any anger that had appeared in Sam’s gut evaporated into thin air. A minute later it got replaced by an actual reflection. And then he realized he didn’t need much time to find the answer.

“Dean was my difference.”, he said as it came to his mind.

“Was he?”, questioned Nick thoughtfully. “Didn’t he act just as Michael did? Didn’t he let your father throw you out, slam the door at your face? Didn’t he choose to stand by your father’s side when it was you who needed his support?”

“He did all those things.”, admitted Sam, but he shook his head a moment later when another thought occurred to him. “But then he was the one to seek me out, he came to me when dad went missing. And he stayed with me afterwards. He wasn’t like Michael, who just cut Lucifer off because his father told him to and who felt it gave him all the right to do so. I doubt Michael felt any guilt about what he did to Lucifer, and… I know Dean felt guilty about that situation. Yes, he told me that I should apologize, that it was all my fault, that I left him, not the other way around but… in the end he reached out to me first, in his own deanish way. And that’s something Lucifer could never count on when it came to Michael.”

The best thing for Sam was that even though Nick asked all those questions, seemingly accusing Dean, Sam didn’t feel angry or defensive. It was mostly because Nick’s voice wasn’t vindictive, it was analytic. Somehow Sam immediately realized that Nick was playing some weird version of Devil’s advocate, but not to cross Sam, but rather to prompt him to think about the answers.

Sam couldn’t understand how Nick’s mind worked, he simply knew it was happening really quickly. He could almost see various thoughts, ideas and questions crossing Nick’s mind when he was speaking, but Nick’s eventual reply still managed to completely baffle him. Nick let him take a deeper breath and then looked up at him and asked calmly but firmly:

“Do you feel guilty about sending Lucifer back to the Cage?”

Sam knew that this conversation would be hard, but he had never imagined how insightful Nick’s inquiries would be. His every word, every observation hit home with grave accuracy, which left Sam without breath in his lungs and with emptiness in his mind.

“No.” Sam breathed this answer and it was completely truthful. “I would do it again if needed.”, he added fiercely.

“But you feel something.”, prompted him Nick and they both heard the unsaid ending of this statement.

You feel something you think you shouldn’t.

Sam opened another beer without a word, and also give another one to Nick after a minute’s thought. Then he took a big sip of the beverage and swallowed it slowly, taking his time to come up with the most truthful response.

“I don’t feel guilty.”, he repeated adamantly. “But I do feel sorry.”, he admitted.

“For him?”

“I wish it didn’t have to end like that for him.”, explained Sam quietly, almost in a whisper. He looked at the beer in front of him as if it could provide him with some answers.

“You wanted to help him?”

“Back then? No, not really. I was focused on saving the world from the mess I created. But later, when I thought about it – and believe me, I  thought a lot – I realized that maybe it didn’t have to be such a mess at all. Maybe it could have been avoided even after I freed him.”

“Well, he did offer Michael to just walk off the chessboard.”, reminded Nick gently.

“He did. But it was too late then. He knew Michael wouldn’t take that offer and both of them wanted that fight to happen. But… hell, the sole fact that he said those words means that he might have considered it, so maybe…”

“You think you could have talked the Devil out of his millennia long plans?”, asked Nick and his lips cracked into a smile.

“Don’t mock me.”, hissed Sam, moving away from Nick rapidly, as he realized how close they were sitting.

“I wasn’t!”, swore Nick immediately. “It just occurred to me that… you may be the only person who ever existed that might have had an actual shot on doing it.”, he added thoughtfully.

For a couple of seconds Sam got lost in Nick’s eyes, suddenly aware that maybe he didn’t move away as far as he thought, because Nick’s face was still intimately close to his.

“Well, even if I had a chance back then, now it’s too late for it anyway.”, replied Sam finally, after what seemed like ten minutes, but was probably only several seconds.

Again, silence filled the room. Sam broke the eye contact, but he lasted only a moment before he brought his eyes back up and they met with Nick’s, who has not changed position. Sam didn’t know what to think of that sudden closeness, but then he soon realized that he stopped thinking altogether. Only thing he could focus on were his senses; he felt Nick’s body next to his, he smelled the man’s cologne mixed with his own scent, he heard Nick’s breath missing his head just by inches. All that combined created the feeling Sam hadn’t felt in a really long time.

“Thank you for telling me this”, whispered Nick, and his words broke the spell and Sam’s mind came back to reality for a moment. Only for that long, because the fact that Nick used whisper managed to avoid changing the atmosphere between them completely. It just reminded Sam that they are in the middle of conversation. “If you hadn’t, I would…”, Nick stopped in the middle of a sentence, apparently at loss for words, or just too ashamed to say them out loud.

“You would?”, prompted him Sam to continue, however just as quietly as Nick spoke.

“I would keep thinking that there is something wrong with me. That thinking of the Devil like that makes me evil somehow. But I know you’re not, and your thoughts about him are so similar, so maybe there is a chance for me too.”, explained Nick.

“Thinking of the Devil like what?”, asked Sam, wanting to make sure he understood Nick properly.

“You know, sympathizing with him a bit.”, replied Nick, shrugging his shoulders, as if trying to minimalize the impact of his words. “Understanding why he did what he did. Realizing that he may not have been the villain in this story. Or at least not the only one.”

That caught Sam’s interest.

“Who, in your opinion, would be the other villain?”, he asked, suddenly more curious than afraid of the answer.

“Michael? God?” Nick shrugged again. “Both of them?”, he suggested, and then added, “I’m not saying that Lucifer was a poor victim. There were some rules and he broke them. But I cannot stop thinking that the punishment didn’t really fit the crime, you know?”, muttered Nick, then he sighed, took a sip of his beer and continued, because Sam seemed to be waiting for it. “Adam and Eve were thrown out of Eden and deprived of immortality. Lucifer was locked in the Cage. For eons. And his only sin was presenting Eve a choice, which she did not realize she had. If we apply what we know of free will then the decision was her alone. Because Lucifer did not lie to her. And she chose to eat the apple from her own volition.”

Sam sighed and looked at his bottle of beer and putting it away with disappointment when he realized its empty.

“That’s why I don’t think he deserves to be in the cage now.”, he admitted after a moment’s thought. “What’s the point of punishment if it never ends? Is not redemption the point of punishment? And Lucifer has no chance for it, he will never have. He just is deemed the ultimate villain and doomed for eternity. I’m not saying that nobody deserves that kind of punishment, hell, I personally met humans whom I would put into the cage for eternity without a shred of remorse but… I simply don’t believe that Lucifer being locked in the cage is… just.”

“But what can you do?”

“Exactly.”, nodded Sam stiffly. “Even back then, putting him back into the cage was the only possible option of fighting him, of saving the world from him.”

“I get it.”, murmured Nick with understanding. “Even if you don’t think he deserves that punishment, even if you can understand his motives in the bigger picture, well… in the end you still need to act according to your subjective point of view. I mean, we’re humans, he wanted to destroy us, you stopped him because saving humanity was more important than deciding who was right: father or son. And even if you had decided back then that he had been wronged by God, it probably still wouldn’t have changed what you did. You are human and understanding Lucifer’s decisions doesn’t change that fact.”

Sam was suddenly overwhelmed by Nick’s words  or rather by how precisely they hit home. Every single sentence Nick said was like taken straight from his mind, even from his soul. Sam felt as if Nick just took his every thought concerning Lucifer and formed it into words, which was something Sam had never done before.

“Sam?”, asked Nick and that’s when Sam realized he had been staring at the wall behind Nick for the last couple of seconds.

“Sorry, I just…”, muttered Sam shaking his head slightly, “I’m just surprised because I cannot agree with you more. Like, literally. What you just said is… exactly what I think and…”, Sam got lost in his own words for a while, which gave Nick the opportunity to interrupt.

“It made you uneasy.”, he realized sadly.

“No”, said Sam immediately, but after actually considering it he had to admit, “well, okay, maybe it did. A bit. I’m not used to having someone who has the same… controversial ideas as mine sometimes are.”, he admitted.

Nick smiled sadly at him.

“I don’t think that’s all of it. I think you’re afraid of having someone who has similar controversial ideas.”, said Nick quietly and when Sam did not answer, just sat silently and looked pointedly at the table, Nick dared to add, “It makes you think of Ruby.”

At first, Sam just wanted to ask Nick not to go into this topic and he even opened his mouth to do so, but something inside him made his voice stuck in his throat. He didn’t want to cut this conversation off as sharply as he did with the previous one. Also, bringing up Lucifer with Nick actually made him feel better, so maybe talking about Ruby – despite really not wanting to – would have the same effect? Or maybe there were also other reasons which he just didn’t want to verbalize yet.

“Bingo.”, admitted Sam quietly and looked up at Nick. Their knees were nearly bumping under the table, missing only by inches. Just then Sam noticed that while he was fiddling with the empty bottle, Nick was doing the same thing to some quarter of dollar that was lying previously near the beer. And therefore their hands were situated really close to each other, their fingers could be tangled together in a matter of milliseconds.

“She was the last person I felt such a connection with – she faked it of course, but I hadn’t know it back then. So don’t be surprised that I am a bit wary right now.”, explained Sam apologetically.

“Such a connection? What do you mean?”, inquired Nick gently.

Sam stopped fiddling with the bottle, now focusing his eyes on hypnotizing moves of Nick’s fingers around the coin.

“Your views on Lucifer, on God, Michael, you understand him so well and what’s more you understand me too…”, muttered Sam and he would probably have listed more things if Nick hadn’t stopped him.

“Is the similarities of our thoughts all that you had in mind?”, asked Nick carefully, as if testing waters.

Sam swallowed before answering, because suddenly his mouth felt strangely dry.

“What else do you think of?”, he replied finally, looking Nick straight in his blue eyes, his mind going blank as he did so.

“Maybe…”, Nick began slowly and quietly, which made Sam lean closer towards him, “this.”, he breathed and suddenly leaned forward even more than Sam just had. Before Sam could understand what was happening, he was being gently kissed.

Sam froze. There is no other word for it. He literally stopped moving, breathing, thinking and he would even bet that his heart had stopped beating for a couple of seconds too. He had no idea what was happening. Later he would have to admit that he should have actually expected it but at that moment every single system in his organism just gave up and stopped working. Well, maybe with the exception of the nervous system, because when everything seemed dull, the sense of touch became – on the contrary – exceptionally intensified.

Sam didn’t return the kiss. His mind was too flooded with questions to send any impulse to his muscles.

As Nick noticed Sam reaction, he immediately pulled himself back and looked at Sam with unhidden shame.

“I’m sorry.”, he whispered, standing uncoordinatedly up from the chair, his eyes not leaving Sam’s face, but strangely evading direct contact with his eyes. “I… misunderstood the situation.”, he explained and in his voice embarrassment got mixed with humiliation.

And in the matter of seconds, Sam was alone in the room. Nick left in a hurry, still not looking him in the eye, forgetting about everything he might have wanted to take with him – his backpack, his unfinished beer, the coin he had been playing with.

Sam swallowed, his mouth still strangely dry, even more than before. Unconsciously his fingers found their way to his lips, he brushed them gently, wondering about what just happened. Thoughts in his mind were still spinning and he didn’t even try to stop them, neither to try to make sense of them. Sam just let them fly freely around his head as he kept moving his pointing finger across his lower lip.

Only after a couple more seconds it finally clicked. His being with Ruby was not restricted to sharing thoughts with her. He shared with her a lot more than just mind, he shared body. That’s what Nick was talking about, realized Sam and he felt his lips involuntarily splitting. He licked them slowly, while it occurred to him that what he was tasting was Nick.

Nick kissed him.

This thought still had problem in getting into Sam’s skull.

He had never kissed a man before. He had never even considered it as an actual possibility, he wasn’t gay after all.

The coin that Nick left behind seemed to be unusually attracting his attention. Sam slowly pulled his hand away from his lips and grabbed the quarter of dollar.

It was as cold as if he had just taken it from the cooler.

Lucifer’s words said in Nick’s voice rang in his head: ‘Most people think I burn hot. It’s actually quite the opposite.’

Sam felt a chill run down his spine. He thought of Lucifer. Then he thought of Ruby. And then, in the very end, he thought of Nick.

Sam tightened his fingers around the cold metal and stood rapidly from the chair. It fell down. He didn’t bat an eye at the noise it made, nor did he put it back up. Sam just let his legs do their job and walked wherever they led him.

Nick’s room turned out to be the destination.

And when the blond man opened the door after he’d heard the knocking, Sam just grabbed the front of his T-shirt, took a couple of steps into the room, turned the both of them by 180 degrees and pressed Nick into the closest wall.

And then he kissed him.  

Sam had no idea what he was doing. He just let the heat and desire and lust and whatever else his body felt towards Nick take over. He released all of that into this one kiss, which Nick eagerly responded to. Sam felt Nick’s arms embracing his back and pulling him closer, felt Nick’s hips underneath his hands, felt Nick’s groin pressed closely to his. And then Nick’s fingers were tangled into his hair, not letting him pull back from the lingering kiss – not that Sam even wanted to.

Remembering Ruby all too well, but somehow pulling up different set of memories about her than usually, Sam rushed his fingers under Nick’s shirt and took if off completely in one practiced move. He hung his arm firmly around Nick’s waist and gripped the man tightly, moving him decisively towards bed. All that time he felt Nick’s breath by his ear, smelled his scent directly from his neck and savored Nick’s hands not letting go of the back of his head.

“Sam”, breathed Nick heavily when his back hit the bed and that was the last straw for Sam. That was it. Now he was completely gone.

His plaid landed on the floor as kneeled on the bed over Nick, covering the man’s body with his own. Nick immediately reached for his head, pulling him back into a fierce and demanding kiss.

It vaguely occurred to Sam that he started developing a habit of having extremely passionate sex with people he really shouldn’t do it with, but then he reached to undo Nick’s belt and zipper anyway.

Chapter Text

I.

Sam opened his eyes in the middle of the night. He was lying on his right side, facing Nick, who was deeply asleep. Sam didn’t know what woke him up, it seemed like there was no particular reason. He stayed still for a while, contemplating Nick’s calm face and the pattern of his breathing. Then, he gently moved the covers aside and sat on the bed, trying to be as quiet as possible.

What they did in the evening was… Sam struggled to find the proper word for it. He had way more questions than answers. It felt good, but was it? It’s been a while since Sam shared a bed with someone and doing so now felt unusual. Especially that Nick wasn’t a random person picked up at a bar, so Sam couldn’t exactly make a one night stand out of it. They lived together, for heaven’s sake!

Sam started wondering how the hell that happened.

He tried to stand up from the bed, but suddenly he felt a hand gripping his arm, stopping him.

“Where are you going?”, asked him Nick quietly, fighting off the sleepiness in his voice.

Sam sat back on the bed properly and turned around.

“I just thought that…”, he began in a whisper, but he had to admit that he didn’t really know what he thought.

Nick pulled up the covers, inviting Sam to come back.

“It’s 4 A.M., Sam, you can do all your thinking in the morning.”, replied Nick and Sam complied before he even registered deciding to do so. As he found himself once again under the covers, Sam forgot why he got out in the first place.

He felt Nick’s arm embracing his chest and Nick’s breath tickling his earlobe from behind.

Being the little spoon felt so unnatural for Sam, but he fell asleep within seconds.

A few hours later they both woke up, one almost immediately after another. But this time Sam wasn’t so quick to get out of bed.

“Morning.”, he said when he saw that Nick’s eyes are open.

“Morning, Sam.”, replied Nick, smiling sleepily. “How are you feeling?”

Sam took a moment to come up with the reply.

“A bit hungry.”, he decided and then both of them heard the unmistakable sound of dog’s paws on the floor.

“It seems like you’re not the only one.”, observed Nick as Riot lively ran into the room and began poking Sam in a very specific give-me-food way.

“Okay okay, I’m getting up, see?”, said Sam playfully to Riot, scratching her behind her ear and getting up. He caught Nick’s eyes on his body and thanked himself for putting on some boxer shorts before he fell asleep. He vaguely remembered Nick doing the same thing. But it didn’t look like the underwear bothered Nick in openly admiring Sam’s body.

Riot nudged Sam’s leg but he barely registered it, his attention full on Nick, who also got up and stopped at just arm’s length from Sam.

Sam considered saying something, but decided against it. Maybe because it could violate the intense atmosphere around them, or maybe because all the words evaporated from his mind.

Then Sam felt Nick’s fingers daring to embrace his face gently, but with little hesitation. Sam’s breath got deeper and more conscious, he had to focus on not forgetting about it.

“Can I kiss you right now?”, asked Nick quietly, looking up into Sam’s eyes.

Sam swallowed self-consciously, eyeing Nick’s lips that were in front of him.

“Yeah, you can.”, he almost whispered and let Nick guide him into the kiss. It was different than the ones they shared the night before. Less passionate and a bit hesitant at first, as if each tried to check if the other is on the same page. But when they finished, when their arms untangled and with their breaths apart, Sam felt in his chest not shame, but something entirely different, something… positive.

“Thank you.”, whispered Nick when his lips were still near Sam’s ear. His breath send a peculiar, almost electric impulse down Sam’s spine.

“What for?” Sam caught Nick’s hand as it was slowly moving away from his face, stopping him in his tracks gently.

Nick hesitated for a second.

“Just… thank you.”, he repeated, untangling his hand from Sam’s catch and moving his fingertips down Sam’s arm, finally grabbing his wrist and lifting it towards his mouth. He briefly pressed his lips to Sam’s knuckles, smiled and then let go of Sam’s hand, turning towards the kitchen.

Sam stood dumbfounded for a couple of seconds. His fingers were burning with the traces of Nick’s lips on them. He looked at his hand, as if he wanted to make sure it wasn’t changed somehow. And even though the skin there looked the same as usual, Sam felt the difference. It wasn’t on the hand, though, but rather right under his sternum, between his ribs, curled around his heart.

Weird feeling, decided Sam as he frowned and followed Nick into the kitchen. And if during that day Sam found himself observing his fingers carefully… well, it’s his personal business.

II.

It took a couple of days for this new development to fully settle. At first their interactions were full of hesitation as neither of them was sure how affectionate they can be with the other without crossing some line. They had to learn by trial and error every single gesture, check if it didn’t make the atmosphere uncomfortable.

Nick made breakfast, which was definitely a good start. And then there was Sam daring to sit extremely close to Nick when they watched news in the afternoon and even putting his arm around Nick’s shoulders as soon as the blond man relaxed next to him. It was all very tentative and Sam spent every second carefully observing Nick’s reactions to his doings. But nothing on Nick’s face suggested he disliked the intimacy between them. Quite the opposite.

When Nick was leaving for his evening shift, after grabbing his bag and coat, he approached Sam and interrupted his research by kissing him briefly on the lips.

“See you later.”, he said, as if trying to explain his motives for the gesture.

Sam looked at him with a mild surprise painted on his features – the same that appeared every time they actually showed some affection for each other, as if he still couldn’t entirely process this whole situation.

“See you.”, replied Sam with a smile after a moment’s thought, fighting off the hesitance and acting on his instincts.

Being in a relationship with a man – and despite his doubts, it was already a relationship, even if an undefined one – was extremely weird for Sam. He never considered himself gay, he never looked at any guy that way, he never even thought it was an actual possibility for him. He just wasn’t gay, as simple as that. So far, that is. Because whatever he felt for Nick, it wasn’t even a matter for an inner debate. It was not love, sure, but it was definitely desire at the very least. And some kind of affection too, which was growing with each of those intimate gestures they timidly initiated.

Despite never having been even slightly homophobic in his entire life, Sam realized that coming to terms with this newfound side of his sexuality was not easy at all. He never cared much what random people on the street could think of him but now suddenly he felt self-conscious about it. He never had to care before – excluding his short college life – because he never stayed at one place long enough for people to actually get to know him. And right now he had Amelia, Mrs. Cheguerra, Will (the owner of the bar Nick was working in, who constantly turned a blind eye to Nick’s call outs), Rick (the mechanic who helped him find the parts to Impala when it became necessary after one nasty case; the guy really appreciated Dean’s baby, which made Sam come back to him every time he needed something), Tasha (barista at the local coffee shop who declared Sam and Nick her most interesting customers in months because “nobody new ever comes to this town, nothing ever happens here” and who always tried to get some personal information from them, hiding her efforts extremely poorly) and many other people whom Sam and Nick met on more or less regular basis for the last six or seven weeks.

Sam faced a really uncomfortable thought – what will those people say?

It’s not that he suddenly started regretting whatever he had with Nick or considered backing off, no. But it occurred to him that some of those people may not have so positive attitude towards them anymore. He also wondered what Dean would say if he saw him with Nick right now. Oh, he would definitely disapprove, but what of exactly? Of Sam sharing bed with Lucifer’s vessel, or of Sam being with a man?

Sam knew, of course, that Dean wasn’t homophobic, at least theoretically. Well, they met gay people during their cases – they met Charlie! – and Dean was fine with it, but Sam had a feeling that somehow Dean wouldn’t be so calm about homosexuality if he realized it concerned his own brother. Or maybe that was just Sam’s late gay panic speaking up.

However, his inner emotional turmoil aside, Sam suddenly had no doubt how he should proceed with Nick. Sam realized that Nick made him as happy as he could ever get without Dean in his life and it meant that he was going to hold on to this thing between them with everything he had.

So when the blond man came home in the middle of the night, Sam was sitting on the cover of Nick’s bed. This sight pleased Nick so greatly that he didn’t let Sam out of his arms for the entire night. And Sam responded with the same enthusiasm and eagerly put that day’s “research” into practice.

III.

Their metaphorical honeymoon lasted for a month. Sam had never felt such a connection in his entire life. The air between him and Nick was tense, but not uncomfortable. After overcoming the initial awkwardness, they looked for body contact every time it was possible. They made out on the couch, they made out in the kitchen, they made out in every single place in the house where they accidentally stood too close to each other to resist.  It wasn’t just about kissing, though. Sam found himself yielding to temptation of embracing Nick every time the blond man cooked, approaching him from behind and putting hands gently on the man’s hips, usually looking over his shoulder to see what’s for dinner this time. First couple of times Nick sighed and succumbed to the touch, leaning against Sam’s chest and even turning his head around to kiss him. Later however Sam got playfully scolded for disrupting his attention.

“The sooner we finish the dinner, the sooner we can move on to some more interesting stuff.”, pointed out Nick, untangling himself from Sam’s arms and focusing on the frying pan in front of him.

He heard Sam huff in disappointment.

“I’ll make it up to you.”, promised Nick after a minute of vibrant silence. He could almost hear Sam’s interest being peaked. Nick smirked to himself and pointedly not turned around, but finished making the meal instead.

The truth was, during this month Sam felt like a hormone-driven teenager, which was actually a pretty new experience for him. When he was in his teen years, he was too focused on saving people and generally being a responsible human being. “People are dying, Sam!” was his dad’s motto, which had been carved into his mind so much that he had never allowed himself to think with anything else than his actual head. This time, however, for those several days, he let himself live in a bubble of freedom, happiness and desire for Nick. They were touching, they were joking, talking, having sex, experimenting. It was a truly refreshing feeling for Sam. And from the very beginning, he was fully aware it won’t last forever.

It didn’t.

IV.

They got a call on a Tuesday. It was from a wife of a friend of a friend of an old frenemy of Bobby, who got Sam’s number God knows how. She was an employee of some orphanage in a small, forgotten by the whole world village. And she was terrified.

“I heard you take care of stuff like that…”, she said, her tone quiet and begging.

“Stuff like what, ma’am?”, inquired Sam gently, waving at Nick to start packing their bags because that sounded urgent.

“There is this boy, he is…”, her tone wavered, shaken, “…I think he’s possessed.”

“What makes you think so?”

“His eyes… they turn completely black sometimes. And lights flicker when he’s nearby… And he…”

“How many people were hurt?”, asked Sam, trying to gather as much information as possible. Impala was always ready to ride, so he went outside, phone still by his ear.

“Nobody yet, but… He’s getting worse every day. We’re all so afraid… You need to come and help us. You need to take care of him…”, she begged.

“We’re on our way.”, promised Sam and closed the door to Impala.

“A demon who resurfaced but didn’t hurt anybody?”, repeated Nick after Sam told him what he had just found out.

“I know, it’s strange.”, admitted Sam. “But the black eyes, the lights… It’s definitely a demon.”

“Yeah, but it’s not a demon’s MO.”, pointed out Nick.

“We’ll have to just check it out by ourselves.”, shrugged Sam.

“Well, let’s just hope it’s not some kind of trap.”

V.

Sam visited many orphanages in his career as a hunter, but mostly they were abandoned ones. That’s probably why he somehow hadn’t expected to see a well-maintained brick building with a garden, which had a small playground in the front. Before he could even ask himself where to start, a woman came out of the door and approached Impala with impatience and uneasiness painted on her face. She wore brown dress and a green jacket, her face thin and pale. She looked up nervously, tugging her mousy hair behind her ear.

“Mr. Winchester?”, she asked coyly. Sam had only the time to nod before she began telling the story. “His name is Michael.”, she explained hurriedly. “He has been here for 2 years now, he was found living on his own by CPS and they sent him here. He has been...”, she hesitated, looking for the right word, “strange”, she decided finally, “from the very beginning. He didn’t talk to anybody, nor did he seem to listen. He stayed away from other children. We thought it was just a phase, that it will pass with time, but no. It only got worse. He pushed away everybody trying to talk to him, sometimes he got into a fight. But the things he can do… they scared other children, and now they scare us too. It just gets worse and worse with each passing day, we are truly afraid to even enter the corridor his room is in. Weird things happen there, lights flicker, things move by itself…”, she listed, almost running out of her breath, trying to pass the information as quickly as possible. “You have to do something about this boy.”, she insisted finally and urged Sam and Nick to follow her into the building.

“We need to talk to him first.”, stated Sam firmly.

“Well, you can try.”, she replied dryly and promptly lead the way.

Despite their best efforts, they didn’t make it to the boy so quickly. In the middle of the hallway a strong and female voice stopped them in their tracks.

“What the hell are you doing, Sally?!”, yelled another woman, coming from the opposite direction. Right in this moment Sam realized that their guide didn’t even tell them her name in the first place.

All three of them turned around and looked at a newcomer. She was in her late twenties, shorter than the other one, with long blond hair fastened in a ponytail on the top of her head. Her face was contorted in anger and poorly-hidden fear. “These are those… hunters?!”, she asked, saying the last word with evident contempt. “You tried to bring them here behind my back!”, she accused Sally. “How dare you!”

“You’re blinded by your feelings to that boy, Megan! I had to do something! I have to protect the rest of us!”

Said Megan disregarded her completely, probably hearing the same words not for the first time. Instead, her focus turned into Sam and Nick.

“I won’t let you hurt him.”, she declared firmly, placing herself in their way.

Sam shifted awkwardly, trying to look non-threateningly.

“Listen, ma’am”, he started gently. “We’re not here to hurt anybody.”, he stated calmly. “We want to take a look at the situation, see what’s happening. We are not the ones who shoot first and ask questions later.”, he promised.

“Mike needs help, not an interrogation.”, she spat furiously.

“Then maybe we’ll be able to provide that help.”, offered Nick gently.

“I heard about you, hunters.”, she growled derisively. “You see weird shit, you kill it. Salt n’ burn, cut the head off, set on fire, shoot in the head, it only matters to you how to kill. Nothing else. You don’t stop to think that maybe it has feelings, tries to control himself, to do his best… To be good.”, her voice waivered, but only for a second. “I won’t let you kill that boy.”, she repeated, shaking before them, but not hesitating in the slightest.

“We’re not here to kill anybody.”, said Sam firmly, looking her straight in the eye. “And we hunt monsters, not people with weird powers.”, he added even stronger. “When I was younger, I had some of those weird powers myself. I can help.”, he promised one more time, using his best calm-down-I-am-being-honest tone of voice.

“Then leave all of your weapons here!”, challenged the blond woman.

Sam exchanged quick glance with Nick and sighed. He did not like that idea.

So he walked into the boy’s room only with a knife hidden in his left shoe. And maybe with another one in his sleeve. 

VI.

“Michael, these are Sam and Nick. They came here to see you.”, said Megan, slowly opening the door to the boy’s room and hesitating only for a moment before leaving them alone.

Sam glanced at the boy, who turned out to be more a teen than a child. Quite a familiar one, too. The sight of his face stopped Sam dead in his tracks − the face he never expected to see again.

“Woah”, said the boy in a harsh, deeply sarcastic tone of voice. “And I let myself childishly hope that maybe they’ve found somebody actually interested in this whole adopting stuff since they want me out of here so badly. But I should’ve realized from the beginning that having somebody kill me is way easier.”

“We’re not here to kill you.”, said Sam again, and then added curiously. “And why Michael?” Sam knew he had to tread carefully, as this was an extremely delicate situation. But on the other hand, this unexpected meeting was a chance to get some long wanted answers.

“It was the first name I thought of. I couldn’t exactly go by my own name, could I? They were looking for me.”, the boy replied dryly.

“Why did you leave back then?”, asked Sam, trying to sound gentle.

“You really don’t know?”, came the annoyed question.

“I have a few ideas. But I just wanna hear yours.”

“I didn’t want to be a part of that. I didn’t want to be anybody’s weapon. In the end, either you or them would find the way to use me.”, said the boy in an emotionless tone.

For a couple of seconds Sam desperately tried to find the inner conviction to assure him that it would not have happened, not from their side, but he soon realized that it wouldn’t sound earnest. Things they’d done in utter despair? Yeah, nothing to be proud of. When it came to saving Dean… Sam now knew himself too well to claim that there were limits to what he would do in the past. Maybe now, since Dean was gone, maybe now it could be different.

“I’m sorry.”, Sam replied in the end.

“No, you’re not.”, countered the boy immediately. “You came here to hunt me down.”

“I came here to help you.”, assured him Sam again.

“Yes, and in order to do so, you brought two knives and a sidekick.”, replied the boy, his voice reeking with sarcasm.

Sam froze. He remembered the seemingly unlimited extent of the boy’s abilities and realized that if he doesn’t play it well, they are in a huge trouble and there’s no saying how this encounter will end.

“I needed some backup. We didn’t know what and who we are facing. Had I known it was you, I would’ve...”

“Brought some holly water and prepped the devil trap bullets?”, supplied the boy smugly.

“I don’t want to fight you, Jesse!”, exclaimed Sam with exhaustion in his voice.

They faced each other; Jesse Turner, 15-year-old cambion, a.k.a. the antichrist and Sam Winchester, the Devil’s chosen one.

“You lied to me then and you are lying to me know.”, accused him Jesse coldly. The lights in the room flickered briefly, then stayed on.

“I am not, Jessie, let me explain.”, asked Sam patiently, but in a less relaxed voice. He glanced around nervously, but forced himself to add: “I just wanna help you.”

“Then who is he?”, asked Jesse, pointing his finger at Nick, who stood behind Sam this whole time.

“This is Nick, my partner. He’s not going to hurt you either.”, explained Sam and Nick nodded towards the boy.

“Bullshit.”, commented Jesse simply and pointed at Nick angrily. “He’s not just another plain human as you paint him to be! You brought him straight from hell. I can smell it on him!”

Was it just the game of lights or did Jesse’s eyes just turn black for a second?

Sam felt something dark curling in the pit of his stomach. He overcame the tightness in his throat and replied:

“You’re right, he’s not. He was Lucifer’s vessel during the Apocalypse, and so was I. You should smell the same thing on me too, then.”

Jesse looked Sam straight in the eye and revealed dryly:

“Yeah, you’re right, I do. But on the other hand, you’ve always smelled like that to me, Sam. It’s in the blood, isn’t it?”

It’s been a while since Sam had been reminded of that painful fact and it felt like being slapped in the face. For a moment he was at complete loss for words, and that was it for Nick. He stepped in front of Sam without hesitation.  

“That’s enough!”, he scolded the boy firmly. “The man you’re talking to fought Lucifer. And won.” Nick paused for a second and then continued.  “He went to hell to save this world from the Devil’s rage. You live and breathe thanks to what he did. Show some goddamn respect!”, he finished categorically, looking down at Jesse. And if he saw the change in the boy’s eye color as Sam did before, he simply ignored it.

“It seems you don’t know who you’re talking to.”, began Jesse dangerously, tightening his fists.

Nick stood in front of Sam without slightest shred of fear and kept looking at the boy strictly.

“Your name is Jesse Turner. You’re half demon and half human. Heaven and Hell are equally afraid of you. You can destroy the planet with just a sneeze and kill me with a mere thought.”, Nick summed up briefly, then continued with determination: “But the way I see it, you’re just a kid throwing a temper tantrum right now. So until you kill, maim or beat the hell out of me, I will not listen idly to you offending Sam. Superpowers or not, know your goddamn place kid.”

And then it was Jesse who was left speechless.

VII.

“So what are you going to do?”, asked them Megan. “What kind of help do you suggest?”

“Do you know what he is?”, asked Sam in return, wanting to get the full picture of what she’s aware of.

She stood up rapidly, with a fire in her eyes.

“He’s not a “what”! He’s a human being!”, she scowled at him.

“Calm down. I don’t want to hurt him and I will not.”, assured her Sam for the hundredth time. “But he’s not human, not fully at least.”, he explained. “The other woman told me about those incidents. I need you to tell me what circumstances they happened in.”

“Will you be able to help him control it?”, she asked and for the first time Sam heard in her voice a sign of hope.

“I hope so. But it may not be easy. So please, tell me when it happens.”

The woman hesitated, but only for a brief moment.

“Well, there is this bunch of older kids who are really hard on him…”, she began.

VIII.

“What do you think of it?”, sighed Sam as soon as he was left alone with Nick.

Nick was silent for a couple of seconds.

“It’s clear that the problem lies in those bullies.”, replied Nick quietly, but Sam knew it wasn’t all.

“But scaring them off won’t help.”, Sam sighed.

“Exactly. One bully will go, another will show up. We cannot scare off everybody. He needs to learn control, but…”, Nick hesitated and fell silent for a longer while.

“Come on, don’t cut yourself off like that. Just tell me whatever you think about this.”, encouraged him Sam gently. Sam had already thought of some ideas himself, but he didn’t like any of them particularly. Every single one ended in some hearts broken, maybe except from one, but… no. Just no. That wasn’t even a real idea in the first place.

“I will, but Sam…”, Nick glanced at Sam seriously, “Tell me how you truly feel about this kid. I need to know everything.”

Even though Sam wanted to ask simply “why”, he stopped himself from doing it. It was not the first time when Nick did something like that, something that Sam learned not to question, but to just go with it. Requests like that from Nick usually meant that he anticipated what Sam might say, but needed to have it said out loud in order to proceed with whatever he had in mind. So Sam just took a deeper breath and began.

“I think Jesse is like me in many ways. I can understand him better than most people, I know how hard it is for him. When I met him for the first time I wanted to help him, but now I think I just needed to help him in order to help myself. Back then everybody told me I’m evil, I needed to convince myself that I’m not. I regret the way we met then and I regret the way we parted ways. We didn’t really help him, we just made him want to run.”

“It’s not your fault he ran.”, reminded him Nick quietly.

“Yes, but it’s my fault that running was actually his best choice. Because if he didn’t, what would we have done? Hidden him? Where? We would’ve put him in some danger sooner or later. Just look around – Dean’s gone, Cas’s gone, Bobby is gone. By now Jesse would have been gone too.”, Sam sighed, hiding face in his hands. He hated feeling helpless.

“Sam, do you want to help him now?”, asked Nick quietly, as if wanting to make sure of it.

“I do, but I still have no idea how.”, admitted Sam heavily.

“Well, think of what he needs most right now.”, prompted him Nick.

Sam combed his hair and sighed.

“He’s lonely, he needs some company.”, he started listing things slowly, contemplating each one of them. “Somebody he can talk to. Somebody who understands him. Somebody to ground him. He needs family – I cannot give him that!”, he huffed with the feeling of helplessness hitting him again.

“How far are you willing to go to help him?”, asked Nick, looking Sam straight in the eye.

“Very far.”, replied Sam immediately and firmly.

“Then you wanna know what I think?”

Sam only nodded, so Nick continued:

“The solution is simple, but not easy at all. We cannot leave him here and we cannot take him to another institution – it will be all the same. He’s different. He will always be. And for him to have even a slightest chance of ever being happy, he needs to be among other people just like him. We need to take him to people who are just as different, who can understand and help him, but who won’t be scared by his powers.”

“I don’t know anybody like that, Nick! Do you think I haven’t considered that?”, replied Sam in exasperation.

“I’m sure you did. And I’m also sure you that you forgot about someone.”

IX.

Sam entered  Jesse’s room alone this time. The boy was sitting at the table, reading a book. He raised his head and asked immediately:

“Have you already decided what to do with me? Do you want to kill me? Or do you have some super-mysterious voodoo spell to just kill the demon half of me?”

“I’m afraid there is no such spell.”, replied Sam calmly, daring to come a bit closer to Jesse. “Can I sit here?”, he pointed at the boy’s bed.

Jesse just nodded, but kept tracking every Sam’s move with his eyes.

“So how do you plan on taking care of the problem?”, asked Jesse coldly. Or tried to make it so, but couldn’t keep some fear from his voice completely.

“I have an offer for you.”, began Sam, looking at the boy sincerely.

“An offer I can’t refuse?”, mocked him Jesse.

“No.”, sighed Sam. “An offer I should’ve made a long time ago, an offer you deserved and still deserve. You can refuse now and any other time you want to.”

This time Jesse remained silent.

“Three years ago you asked me and Dean if you could go with us. We couldn’t take you then. The life we had wasn’t safe for a child. Always on the run, always in danger. But you’re not a kid anymore and I have a different life too. Don’t read me wrong, kid.”, amended Sam. “I cannot offer you family, I cannot promise that I…”, Sam hesitated and then changed his mind. “Anyways, what I can offer is a safe place to stay. Your own bed, room, clothes, food, stuff like that. And I need to know… Are you in?”, Sam asked seriously.

Jesse opened his mouth and then closed it again. Finally, he managed:

“You want to adopt me?” He couldn’t believe it.

“Well, we would have to forge all the paperwork because Sam Winchester is officially dead and so is Nick… But it won’t be a problem, if you want this, I mean.” Sam shrugged his shoulders and looked around the room, trying to hide the fact that he had literally no idea what he was doing.

“Will I be able to go to school?”, asked Jesse hopefully after a moment.

“Sure, I can’t see why not. I don’t know about college though, it may take some figuring out, but generally, yeah, go and learn all you want.”, replied Sam and smiled. Hunger for knowledge; another thing he and Jesse had in common.

“Then I’m in!”, declared Jesse immediately, as if fearing that Sam will take the offer back.

Sam was not going to do it, though. And neither was Nick – it was his idea after all. As soon as Sam heard it, he knew it was the right thing to do. It felt like a long lost piece of puzzle being finally found. Sam had already forgot how it felt to have his life go straight, forgot the feeling that future was something worth waiting for. He never knew he had been missing it that much.

Chapter Text

I.

In the late afternoon on a Thursday, Jesse emerged from his room with a newspaper rolled under his arm.

“I found you a case.”, he announced, looking around the room and catching Nick’s eye from the couch. He was reading a book, as usual. Jesse guessed that it was another one about the world in general. Nick always seemed to be fascinated by everything concerning the planet Earth. Plants, animals, people, architecture, culture, you name it. He could easily point and name every country and every capital city in the world, could say a few words about the biggest cities, explain political, historical or socioeconomical process that lead to this or that – Jesse admired his curiosity and persistence in checking everything he hadn’t already known.

“Another one?”, asked Nick, slowly closing his book and putting it back on the short wooden table in front of him. He and Sam were gradually buying more and more furniture and other conveniences, making this place more theirs.

“Where is Sam?” Jesse glanced around the room once again and then pointedly looked at the closed door on the opposite side of it.

Nick caught this and nodded in affirmation.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”, observed Jesse quietly.

“It’s almost a year since Dean’s gone.”, replied Nick. “I think that right now the only choice Sam has is to either give up on him or get even more… invested in it.”, surmised Nick carefully.

Jesse looked at him skeptically.

“The word you’re looking for is ‘obsessed’.”, prompted Jesse. “He cannot keep living like this. Does he even eat?”

“I brought him some sandwiches a few hours ago.”, sighed Nick. “And don’t judge him like that. He and Dean were basically joined at the hip, and every time they weren’t… well, that’s what happened. Self-sacrificing, obsessive behavior, guilt, desperation… if the tables were turned, it would be Dean behind that door, searching, thinking, getting more and more desperate.”

“But he seemed fine a couple months ago.”, observed Jesse, not understanding the situation at hand.

“Coming to terms with somebody’s death is a complicated process. And when somebody is only missing? Even worse. You know why? Because there’s always hope, hope that this person will come home one day. And even though generally hope is a good thing, in this case it just holds you back, prevents you from moving on. Sam wanted to let it go once. But in the long run it wouldn’t work out. I can take care of Sam, I can help him get back on his feet, but Dean… Dean’s in the center of Sam’s life, always has been.”

“Is it… you know, normal? For brothers to be connected like that?”, hesitated Jesse.

Nick let out a brief laugh.

“Normal? I don’t think so.”, he shrugged. “But that’s the Winchester way.”, he added, smiling warmly. “Take it or leave it.”

Jesse shook his head in mild disbelief.

“You’re his partner and… you’re okay with that?”

Nick snorted in amusement.

“Believe me or not, but I actually knew what I was getting into.”, he revealed and then waved his hand at Jesse. “Now show me what you have there, maybe we can draw Sam out of that room for a couple of days.”

“So I’ve found a possible pattern to a few missing person cases, I think it may be ghouls…”

II.

Three weeks after the ill-fated encounter with the ghouls Nick still felt tingling pain in his right side every time he tried to take something from the highest shelf in the kitchen.

“Wait, I’ll get it for you.”, offered Sam immediately, which only proved that Nick wasn’t hiding it that well.

“Sam, I can handle it.”, assured him Nick for what seemed like a hundredth time.

“I know, but you don’t need to.”, replied Sam and gave him curry that Nick was about to add. “By the way, what’s for dinner today?”

“Nothing for you if you keep mother-henning me.”, complained Nick. “I’m a grown man, Sam, I can take care of myself.”

“So what, I wanna help you and suddenly that’s a bad thing?”, said Sam irritably.

Nick clenched his fists and let his anger take over his mouth.

“Well, if you wanna help only because you feel guilty then hell yes, it’s a bad thing!”, accused him Nick. “First you spend your whole days buried in those books, you cut yourself off from me, and now you are suddenly my shadow, watching my every step so that I don’t even trip. It’s a bit over the top, don’t you think?”, summed up Nick in exasperation and loudly put back the jar with curry on the counter after using it.

Sam’s stare hardened and his entire posture became more tensed.

“I’m sorry if I’m too overwhelming for you”, he replied stiffly after a moment’s thought, turned around and left the kitchen without saying another word.

In the hallway he walked past Jesse and looked up at him.

“Where are you going?”, asked Jesse curiously.

“For a walk.”, replied Sam shortly.

Jesse didn’t miss the gun sticking out of Sam’s jacket. He sighed sadly when the door closed with a loud thud behind the Winchester.

“You guys had a fight.”, Jesse observed dryly while entering the kitchen.

Nick stood hunched over the counter, slowly stirring something in the pot. He pointedly didn’t reply to Jesse’s comment.

“You think he’ll demolish our garage like he did before?”, continued Jesse offhandedly.

“He took his gun with him?” Nick finally broke his silence.

“Yep.”, replied Jesse, popping the ‘p’.

“God damn it.”, grumbled Nick and promptly put away the spatula he’d been holding. Then he washed his hands, dried them in a dish cloth and turned around to face Jesse. “Keep an eye on it.”, he commended.

“On which one exactly?”, called Jesse as Nick passed him in the door.

“On everything!”, clarified Nick as he put on his jacket and changed his shoes. “And don’t snack on it!”

The door closed loudly again and Jesse was left alone in the kitchen.

“Don’t snack on it”, he mocked, muttering to himself as he glanced into the pot. Something smelled really well in there. “If you can have make-up sex in the garage right now, then I sure as hell can snack on our dinner.”, he added to himself, shrugged his shoulders and grabbed a tablespoon from the drawer.

When Sam and Nick came back about half an hour later, Sam’s hair was unnaturally ruffled, which only made Jesse smile under his nose.

III.

Sam’s emergency phone woke them up at 7 o’clock in the morning. Sam jumped out of the bed after hearing the first sound of it, which immediately got Nick moving too.

“That’s one of your emergency phones?”, asked Nick worriedly as Sam was searching through his bags and jackets trying to locate the source of the sound.

“That’s the phone.”, explained Sam in great agitation and that one sentence hit Nick like a ton of bricks.

It could be only one person.

Sam was white as sheet when he answered his phone with shaky hands.

“Hello?”, he said, his voice still rough from sleeping, yet his eyes were clear and filled with fear. Fear that despite everything it was not…

Nick held his breath for couple of seconds.

“Dean.”, sighed Sam, his legs went limp below him and he sat on the bed heavily. “You’re back.” Relief was painted on his whole face, on his whole body. Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, it was like he barely stopped his tears.

Nick immediately came to him and at first only put his hand on Sam’s back, showing support, just being there for him. But in the end he embraced Sam and held him tightly through the entire conversation with Dean, because Sam’s sharp breathing told Nick that Sam really needed it at that moment.

They were together for ten months, there were really few personal barriers between them. Nick knew how Sam acted when he was stressed, nervous or simply cautious. He learned how to talk to Sam when he let himself be buried by guilt – Nick learned how to unearth Sam’s reason in those moments. And in return, Sam offered him his heart on a plate.

Nick was well aware that Sam was a strong man. He could be only a step from breaking for a long time, but would never actually be broken. Sam was a man that could be burned and would rise from the ashes every single time with the same determination, with the same unwavering spirit. Sam was a fighter in body and soul. For him, there was no giving up. Ever.

There were moments when Nick hated those traits in him. When pure stubbornness prevented Sam from moving on with his life, from opening his mind up to future entirely. But on the other hand, Nick realized that staying in one place, having a home, living a steady life – that was as far as Sam could ever get with moving on.

Nick knew that Sam would either try to find Dean till his death or his success, or live with constant guilt that he abandoned his brother. Nick couldn’t force himself not to admire this commitment.

Nick was in the constant process of learning things about himself. He tried to build the whole picture of who he is and who he wants to be. He hadn’t found all the pieces yet, but what he came to understand was that loyalty seemed to hold extreme value for him. So even though Nick sometimes got annoyed with Sam for spending half of his current life studying all that was to study about Purgatory, deep inside he knew that he would give everything to have somebody so determined to find and free him. Should he ever need it, that is.

Also, he knew two other things.

He could never hurt Sam. And he could never lie to him.

But somehow, when those occurred to him, Nick decided it would be best if he refrained from verbalizing them out loud for the time being. Those thoughts could be easily misunderstood and Nick didn’t want to make Sam uneasy.

IV.

Needless to say, Dean was surprised to see Nick getting out of Impala right after Sam. He may have assumed that they parted their ways or he simply forgot about Nick’s existence – both of those options were equally likely. But it soon became apparent that Dean didn’t know what to make of Nick’s presence.

On the other hand, Sam was too preoccupied with various feelings – ranging from happiness to disbelief and worry − when they were driving to the pre-arranged safe house to discuss the issue of how to tell Dean about their relationship. Nick decided to take caution with this matter and let Sam take care of it. He could handle a few days of awkwardness and inhibitions – and Sam wouldn’t be able to hide if forever even if he wanted to. They were too entwined with each other’s lives.

Nick noticed that Sam was hit with the problem only when Dean’s asking gaze travelled to Nick.

“So, uh, you guys are still hunting together?”, Dean asked awkwardly after he and Sam were done with the greetings and relieved brotherly hugs.

Sam’s eyes went up to Nick, as if trying to assess the situation. He seemed a bit anxious, so Nick just shrugged and replied lightly:

“Yeah, but we’re between cases now. I need some time to recover after ghouls.” Nick rolled up his shirt and uncovered a giant scarring wound running across his right side.

Dean hissed and nodded in acknowledgment. In the meantime, Sam steered them towards Impala, since Dean didn’t feel attached to the car he came with and he had no qualms about leaving it.

“So you’ve been busy.”, he observed non-committally. Sam heard something weird in his tone, though, as if Dean felt somehow uncomfortable in this situation. “So what about Kevin?”, asked Dean after a moment.

Sam turned on the engine and casually headed for the closest highway.

“At first Crowley kidnapped him, but he quickly escaped. Then he called us for help.”, began Sam. “I forged some IDs for him so he could hide. He’s trying to fly under the radar and as far as I know he’s pretty good at it so far.”

“So you’re in touch with him?”

“Sort of?”, Sam hesitated. “Well, he has my emergency phone number. He called us a few times, just checking-in, asking for some advice, but I haven’t heard from him recently.”, admitted Sam.

“Aren’t you worried?”, inquired Dean.

“Why should I be? Kid was doing just fine.”, Sam shrugged again, keeping the tension out of his voice.

“But what about the tablets? Isn’t Crowley looking for them?” Dean couldn’t believe that Sam would be so irresponsible and let the kid out of his sight.

At this point Sam turned a bit sheepish and cleared his throat in apprehension. Dean of course immediately noticed Sam’s discomfort.

“What?”, he pressured, already knowing that he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear.

“We have… a sort of deal with Crowley…”, explained Sam slowly.

Dean paled.

“A deal?!”

“No, not what you think!”, amended Sam quickly. “No souls involved, I promise.”, he added. Dean sighed in relief, but remained suspicious.

“So what did you offer him?”

“Apparently there were more tablets.”, began Sam. “Angel tablet showed the way to close the gates of Heaven, demon tablet showed the way to close the gates of Hell. It was tempting, but in the end we agreed to leave things as they are. Crowley won’t look for angel tablet if we don’t look for the demon one. Kevin hid the both of them, he’s the only person who knows the location so… yeah, he’s on the run and we don’t know his whereabouts. Neither does Crowley. It should stay this way.”, explained Sam steadily, trying to convey his reasoning.

“And you… just trust that Crowley will hold on to his end of the bargain?”, asked Dean, completely baffled by this revelation.

“I think he will, it suits him too, you know.”, reasoned Sam. “He doesn’t want a revolution, he’d rather keep doing what he always has been. Sitting on the throne, making deals, collecting souls. He already is in the position of power, doesn’t need a war to prove anything.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing to me.”, muttered Dean.

“If anything, he’s been holding up his end of the bargain for the last…”, Sam quickly counted in his mind. “Five months.”

“But who suggested it in the first place?”, doubted Dean.

“Actually, I did.”, supplied the voice from behind Dean’s seat. He almost forgot that Nick was there. Dean turned around a bit to look at the blond man.

“You?”, he repeated incredulously.

“Yeah, me.” Nick smiled with no shame whatsoever. “I think… closing the gates to either Hell or Heaven – it would destroy the balance in the world, don’t you agree? Also, nothing comes without some sort of payment. And just imagine how much it would cost to mess with the world in that way.”

“But it could end all our troubles!”, protested Dean.

“You think?”, countered Nick doubtfully. “It would still leave you with all the regular creatures – witches, vamps, werewolves, wendigos. What difference in the long run does one rogue demon here or there make?”

“Very fucking huge!”, yelled Dean. “Demons tick people into making deals all the time!”

“Demons make offers”, countered Nick coldly. “They don’t trick anybody. Just because most people don’t believe in souls, it doesn’t mean they are being tricked. It just means they are mostly idiots.”, summed up Nick. “And if a demon actually deceits somebody, then it’s Crowley himself who takes care of it. He cares a lot about Hell’s reputation.”

“So what, everything is fine, because you’ve decided that Crowley is a really upstanding guy? Gimme a break!”

“Everything is fine, because we made it fine.”, growled Nick, losing his temper. “People get involved with demons only when they choose to do it. Kevin is safe. Tablets are well-hidden.”, listed Nick in his best I-am-done-with-your-bullshit tone. “Crowley doesn’t bother us in any way. We go on an occasional hunt, kill some monsters here and there. We help others hunters if they ask for it. The world is not facing another Apocalypse and everything is fine!”

Dean was silent for a minute, gritting his teeth and contemplating his reply. In the end, he only huffed under his breath:

“Well, maybe for you.”

Nick didn’t grace Dean with his reply to this comment, deciding to leave this issue be. They spent another half an hour in uncomfortable silence, but the ride back to Kermit was too long to keep prolonging the tense atmosphere in the car.

In the end they manages to establish a bit tentative but safe and non-committal tone of the conversation, sharing minor facts about what happened in the past year.

V.

The first real obstacle appeared when Dean saw that they weren’t stopping in front of a motel of any kind, but rather in front of a white bungalow with a small but well-maintained garden and a garage.

“Seriously?”, slipped out of Dean’s mouth.

Sam shot him a hard, unimpressed stare.

“You got a problem with that?”, he hissed through gritted teeth.

“I thought you’re done with this.”, muttered Dean with disapproval.

“With having a life?”

“With dreaming of a white picket fence! Come on man, I thought we agreed that it’s no life for a hunter.”, said Dean, trying to sound amicable.

“I’m still a hunter, Dean, I’m not shying away from it.”, replied Sam honestly.

“Just go, you can finish this dispute inside”, interrupted them Nick and went to open the door, not waiting to see if they follow.

But the situation was getting worse and worse with every piece of information that Dean got about Sam’s current life.

He entered their house reluctantly, but curiously. He glanced at the coat hangers in the hallway, at the disarranged shoes and at the umbrella that was drying off after some heavy rain a few days back. Then he noticed dog’s bowls with feed and water.

“Dog again, Sam? Man, what happened to no ties? No staying in one place? Keeping on the move?”, questioned Dean again, shaking his head in obvious disapproval.

“I changed my mind. And I like it that way.”, replied Sam stiffly. “Also, you don’t know the half of it yet.”, he added a bit perversely.

Dean certainly felt out of place in this house, even though the décor was still a bit rough. Sam and Nick weren’t exactly buying dinnerware and knitting curtains to make it more homey, but there were plenty of books on the shelves, cupboards filled with edible, fresh ingredients and beds with used linens. Also, there was one framed picture on the bookshelf, because each of them inwardly yearned for that sort of thing so around Christmas Jesse decided – and left no room for argument – that they are allowed to be a bit sappy and made them take a picture together. What should be pointed out, though, is that neither Sam nor Nick protested much.

“Let me guess, there is a woman too?”, mused Dean with the tone that indicated that he couldn’t understand how Sam could be that stupid. Sam didn’t deny, so Dean went on. “Have you learned nothing from my mistakes?”

“You mean Lisa?”, guessed Sam. “It’s not like that.”, he assured.

“Why, because she’s different?”, mocked him Dean.  “Because she understands you like no one else? Because she’s sweet and loving? Come on, Sam. It’s not about that! You’re aware that she’ll get hurt sooner or later. Tell me, will you be able to live through it?”, asked Dean seriously.

And even though Sam knew that it was Dean’s own experience speaking, he couldn’t stop himself from getting even more angry with his brother. It was barely several hours after they reunited and he already questioned all his choices and preached at him.

“Dean, just stop it.”, asked Sam, trying to get things under some sort of control. “You don’t know shit about my current life right now, so please be so kind and stop judging me at every step.”, he requested through gritted teeth.

“Then please, enlighten me.”, suggested Dean expectantly.

“Right now I can tell you that if you keep on being a judgmental asshole, it will end with my fist at your jaw.”, promised him Sam grimly.

Dean tensed, as if expecting the fight to break out at any second.

“Or my fist”, put in Nick, having emerged from the kitchen, leaning casually against the wall.

Dean’s reaction was instantaneous.

“You stay away from it. It has nothing do to with you.”, growled Dean in a low, threatening tone.

Nick exchanged a look with Sam, making sure he can proceed. Sam wasn’t happy about the chain of events that brought them up to this point, but at the same time his eyes glowed with determination.

“Quite the contrary.”, replied Nick friendly, but also smugly.

“What do you mean?”, asked Dean sharply and immediately turned back to Sam. “Sam, what does he mean?” His voice was suspicious and demanding.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, inwardly admitting to himself that he was actually afraid of Dean’s reaction. But he’d already made up his mind.

“He means that… there is no woman in my life.”, revealed Sam slowly, thinking of every word he was about to say. “But there is… him.”, he managed finally, glancing at Nick and feeling his breath calm down slightly after seeing his peaceful blue eyes.

Dean was left dumbfounded. He frowned, actually not understanding the situation.

“What?” His eyes travelled rapidly between Sam and Nick, trying to get some clue from their behavior. After realizing that maybe that’s exactly what his brother needs, Sam stepped closer to Nick and tentatively put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. In other circumstances, it wouldn’t mean anything in particular, it wasn’t that intimate of a gesture, however, in this case, Dean’s eyes widened in sudden realization.

He shook his head dismissively, though.

“Come on, man! You don’t expect me to believe that you’re…”, Dean didn’t finish on purpose, leaving the last word for everybody to fill in themselves.

Sam was suddenly furious that Dean didn’t even want to say that out loud, as if it was too shameful or too ridiculous to even bother.

“The term you’re looking for is bisexual.”, he hissed an annoyance, crossing his arms. “And yes, I am. Did you think Nick lives with me just for convenience sake?”, he added as an afterthought.

“Well, I didn’t have the time to analyze that!”, exclaimed Dean. “And don’t mess with me, Sam. I know you’re not gay!”

Sam sighed and put his fingers on the bridge of his nose, massaging it while trying to find the inner calmness he needed to continue this conversation.

“First, it’s bisexual.”, he corrected firmly. “But sure, we can go with gay if you want, why not.” Sam shrugged.  “Second, I’m not messing with you. I was surprised at first too, I admit, but I’ve come to terms with it, and I’m good. Probably never been happier in my life, actually. So yes, I’m with Nick and I think about this relationship very seriously.  And I’ll ask you to at least try to respect that.”

Dean still looked at Sam without comprehension in his eyes. But Sam’s stare was adamant, he refused to back down.

“Dean, please”, pleaded Sam after a moment, because Dean apparently ran out of words.

“No”, replied Dean simply, shaking his head. “This is crazy, Sam. You cannot expect me to just be okay with all that shit. It’s too much, even for us.”

“That’s just bullshit and you know it!”, countered Sam furiously. “We faced angels, demons, we went to Hell and back and you tell me that you can’t handle me being with a man? Are you even listening to yourself right now, Dean?”, asked Sam incredulously, not believing his own ears.

But Dean was done.

“Maybe I just need a little time to get a hold of your happy little life?”, huffed Dean defensively. “A house, a dog, a lover… looks like there is no place to squeeze your brother in there, huh?”

“Come on, Dean, it’s not like that!”, protested Sam immediately.

“All you need is a kid now and your life will be a complete fairy tale, right?”, added Dean spitefully. He looked around and grabbed his bag that he left in the hall earlier. But to be fair, in the heat of the discussion they didn’t make it far away from that spot.

Sam didn’t reply to this last comment, which immediately caught Dean’s attention. He looked closely at his brother and after seeing him swallow nervously, he snorted in contempt.

“Oh Jesus”, he hissed scornfully, shaking his head even more. “I don’t wanna know.”, he cleared firmly and reached for the door.

Sam stood there, unable to say anything, just watching his brother leave.

“You’ve got my number.”, said Dean stepping over the threshold. “But don’t call me unless it’s an emergency.”, he added coldly and closed the door behind himself.

VI.

A week later Jesse decided that unless he does something, this situation will become an unstoppable downward spiral.

Sam’s mood alternated between sulking at his life in general, being pissed off at Dean for behaving like a homophobic asshole (while not being one in the first place, so Sam assumed that the actual problem lied somewhere else) and succumbing to overwhelming guilt for not being the brother Dean wants. He felt restless, walked around the house with no particular purpose now that he didn’t have to research things about Purgatory anymore.

When Jesse came to live with Sam and Nick, at first it was Nick who couldn’t sleep at night. Jesse would wake up hearing someone walking quietly in the kitchen, he’d notice lamp being on basically till the morning. He realized that at first Sam was unaware of Nick’s insomnia, but it soon changed without no intervention from Jesse whatsoever. Then for a couple of weeks Jesse would hear both of them sitting in the kitchen at night, talking quietly about various things – ranging from ‘how was your day?’ to ‘I’m still not sure I forgive my father for how he raised me’ on Sam’s part – or simply sitting in silence for long hours, finding relief in each other’s company. When that period passed, Sam and Nick slept soundly for months, more often than not in each other’s arms. The only input Jesse had was suggesting that they should buy a king size bed and finally get a comfortable sleep without worrying whether or not the other falls from the bed at night. He had literally no idea why neither of them thought of that before, but after his suggestion it only took them a day to act on it. Sam’s and Nick’s bed were moved to another room, and Nick’s bedroom officially became theirs. Jesse really enjoyed the time when all three of them managed to have a regular good night’s sleep.

After Dean came back from Purgatory, the new set of problems arose. First of all, Sam rarely made it to bed at all, since he already knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. And if Sam wasn’t even trying, then Nick followed his example and sat with him in the living room, embracing him tightly on the couch, till their bodies gave up and they fell asleep anyway, but in a way more uncomfortable position. Jesse shook his head at how pointless this whole thing was, but Sam was a stubborn man and Nick wasn’t going to abandon him at night.

At the very beginning Jesse was a bit freaked out by Sam’s relationship with Nick. Definitely the weird part was that both of them were male, but that particular thing he accepted pretty quickly. Some people said it was wrong, but the same people usually said he was wrong too. So Jesse decided to accept Sam’s version – his powers didn’t define who he was. And if they could accept his demonic side, then Jesse without hesitation accepted the way they chose to live in. Getting used to being around them took him less time than he expected.

Sam was officially his legal guardian, but neither Jesse thought of him as his foster parent, nor Sam encouraged him to do so. Instead, Jesse soon discovered that he talked to Sam as someone would to an older brother. Their personalities clashed a few times, especially since Jesse forgot long ago how it was to have somebody set rules for you. It didn’t suit him at first – at the orphanage he was mostly left alone, even though the system shouldn’t work that way – but after a few minor fights Jesse let himself be convinced that Sam really tried to take care of him. That’s why he insisted on Jesse making friends at school, joining some afterschool activities and attending extracurricular classes if they seemed interesting. It if weren’t for Sam, Jesse wouldn’t get involved in many physics projects and that would be a shame because he discovered he really enjoyed that subject, which was a bit strange, since he could easily circumvent most laws of physics with sheer power of his mind.

Nick was a different matter entirely. Sometimes his eyes seemed cold and distant when he became lost in his thoughts and when Sam wasn’t anywhere nearby. Jesse noticed that Nick had often minor problems with social interactions, understanding human emotions and reacting accordingly. But it should be emphasized that he tried hard to fix that problem. The most prominent trait of Nick that Jesse would list was that the man hated not knowing and not understanding things. Hated being confused, uneducated. It’s something that Sam called curiosity, but Jesse had a feeling it was more than this. Nick didn’t learn all those stuff simply to know more – no, he just despised the idea that somebody would look down on him for not knowing something. This difference was very minor and the effect stayed the same – Nick learned stuff about the world at an extraordinary rate – but Jesse took note of it.

Sam didn’t register Nick’s difficulties with social interaction mostly because everything between him and Nick was completely natural. Nick’s behavior towards anybody but Sam could be sometimes a bit awkward, yet as far as Sam was concerned, every trace of that problem disappeared. While talking to Sam, Nick was honest, open-minded and easy-going.

Jesse was suspicious of Nick in the beginning – the man barely talked to him, smelled like Hell incarnated and even after a couple of weeks he still seemed aloof. But after seeing how Nick behaved around Sam, Jesse slowly warmed to him. The thing was, Nick loved Sam and that was obvious to everyone that looked at them. He protected him during hunts and in between them he practiced at the shooting range to be able to protect him even better next time. He trained with every weapon he put his hands on, becoming more deadly and proficient with every passing week. Jesse would soon become afraid of Nick if he hadn’t realized what his ultimate motive was. Sam was the answer to all the questions. Nick worked for Sam, cooked for Sam, fought for Sam and generally lived and breathed for him too. It would be disturbing – actually, it simply was – but Jesse being the cambion was connoisseur of disturbing things and after a while he decided that he didn’t care. Or rather, that in some odd way it could be even considered endearing.

After a few months of all three of them living together, Nick and Jesse got used to each other and even started interacting on a regular basis. Nick never tried to get parental on Jesse – he left that job to Sam. He stepped in only when Jesse overstepped some boundaries towards Sam, said a few harsh words too much – it happened in the beginning quite a lot. But despite Nick’s social awkwardness, he always knew exactly what to say in order to get through to him. Jesse grew to appreciate that.

There was also Sam’s dog – Riot, who actually soon became more of a Jesse’s dog to be honest. Jesse took to Riot like fish to water, she was the companion he never realized he needed. She calmed him down when something went wrong and cheered him up with her lively behavior. She was his first friend in this new life and interacting with her taught Jesse how to let other people in.  

So all in all, Jesse really enjoyed his life with Sam and Nick. He had friends at school that he could invite home when needed (he just needed to be careful and not let them in the garage, which was their hunting headquarters), he wasn’t frowned upon when he accidentally levitated salt during the dinner instead of simply passing it and he could stay in between two worlds – human and supernatural one – like he was always meant to. He felt comfortable that way.

And that is exactly why he decided that he couldn’t simply sit on his ass when the situation with Dean soon started to become more and more dramatic. Sam had enough on his plate and shouldn’t have to sit and let his guilt and anger eat him up when in fact he should be celebrating Dean’s return. That’s why on the seventh day (counting from Dean’s first call), Jesse announced that he’s taking Riot for a walk and disappeared right after closing the door behind himself.

VII.

Dean was three states away from Kermit, but it didn’t bother Jesse at all. That’s why on Sunday morning Dean heard dog’s howling right under his motel room’s window. He dismissed it at first, but it soon became unbearable, so he opened the door in annoyance to see what’s happening outside. Whom he did not expect to see was Jesse Turner, standing with his hands crossed and with Sam’s dog barking enthusiastically next to him. As soon as he saw Dean, Jesse nodded at Riot and she fell silent.

“Hello, Dean.”, greeted him Jesse calmly. “I’m sure you remember me. I was told I haven’t changed much for the last three or four years.”, he recalled non-committally.

“Jesse? What are you doing here?” Dean frowned, looking around suspiciously.

“You left in such a hurry that Sam and Nick weren’t able to tell you all the details. Like, you know, the fact that they adopted me. The world is so small, isn’t it?”, he mused smugly.

“You?”, asked Dean in surprise. “But why…?” Then he shook his head, deciding that it didn’t matter now. “Okay, whatever. But still, why are you here? And how did you find me?”, he questioned immediately.

“Dean, I’m an antichrist. It comes with a certain set of useful skills.”, reminded him Jesse. “Like teleportation, for example. And the fact that I don’t have to know where you are, I can simply wish to go there and that’s it.”

“But what do you want from me, kid?”

“Sam was really good to me.”, informed him Jesse in a very matter-of-fact tone. “And I wanna pay him back for it. He deserves that much.”

Dean still looked at him quizzically, but Jesse simply continued.

“I think you should see this.”, concluded Jesse and waved his hand towards Dean.

Both of them disappeared in plain sight. A second later, they stood in a small, cluttered room. The books were everywhere, some opened and some not, but almost each one had plenty of cards filled with Sam’s sloppy handwriting sticking out of it. The walls were also full – almost all of them were covered in scraps from newspapers, yellow post-it cards with more Sam’s notes, some of them connected to each other with red thread. It looked like a cave of a truly unwearied hunter.

“What is all that?”, whispered Dean, looking around almost frantically. His eyes jumped from one corner to another, rapidly processing everything they met.

“What does it look like to you?”, replied Jesse.

“All of it… it’s about Purgatory…”, realized Dean in pure shock.

“Welcome to Sam’s den, place where he could sit for hours looking for a way to free you.”, began Jesse bitterly. “A place where he could really contemplate his survivor’s guilt, where he would sit and imagine all those terrifying things that could be happening to you in Purgatory while he’s at his own safe home with the people who love him.”

Jesse circled around the table in the middle of the room, not taking his eyes off Dean even for a second. Dean, on the other hand, stood as if frozen, unable to find any argument to stop Jesse’s stream of words.

“Sam actually felt bad, because deep inside he let himself be happy.”, hissed Jesse, narrowing his eyes angrily. “Could you imagine that? He obsessed about finding you, he did everything he could, and still felt guilty for letting himself move on even a bit. And here you come!”, he exclaimed. “You re-enter his life and first thing you do is undermine every choice he’d made, without even considering his reasons! You look around and you criticize his house, his pet, his partner, and all of that just because it’s not the way it always was! How dare Sam change anything about his life?! How dare he move on without me?!”, mocked him Jesse bitterly.

“And what the hell was he supposed to do?!", he continued rhetorically. "He took the pieces you left him with and tried to put them together! And it worked like a charm! You should admire what he managed to accomplish! He did a wonderful job, truly… But there was still a part of the picture missing. I knew it, Nick knew it and we accepted it. Actually, it was Nick who made me realize that Sam could never be truly happy without you in his life. Me and Nick, we were simply not enough to fill the space you left behind. But we learned to accept that, because we love Sam! And we would never demand that he gives us more than he wants to."

Jesse took a long breath and hissed finally, "So I suggest that you consider it and do the same, because right now it’s not about you being homophobic or about Sam’s white picket fence. It’s about the fact, that Sam made it all work. You’re jealous of his happiness and you’re afraid that he doesn’t need you for that. That last thing is simply bullshit, so get your shit together, cause I won’t let you hurt Sam any longer.”

When Jesse was done, Dean was too dumbfounded to rise to any point that the boy made, so he only managed to argue weakly:

“Aren’t you too young to talk to me this way?”

Jesse smiled smugly.

“I’m half-demon and basically your brother’s protégé. Please, do try to stop me.”, challenged the boy and with another wave of his hand send Dean back to his motel room.

When Dean appeared three days later at their doorstep, Sam was surprised but Nick simply cast a quick look at Jesse and nodded with gratitude, as if immediately knowing what brought Dean there. It wasn’t the first time when Jesse noticed that Nick could be both terrifyingly observant when it came to human emotions as well as completely oblivious. He never knew when he should expect which.

Chapter Text

I.

That’s when another part of their life began; the one that involved trying to make it work with Dean. It was really tense in the beginning, Dean would struggle to understand many things, question Sam’s decisions aggressively and apologize for it later. But he wasn’t entirely to blame for his behavior – they could only guess what he went through in Purgatory since Dean wasn’t a very forthcoming person, but they all suspected it left a mark on him. And Sam still couldn’t pump any information about Castiel out of Dean, so they could only assume something went really wrong in there.

After a few weeks of establishing a new tentative order in the house all three of them (Jesse excluded) returned to hunting. They tracked a murderer stealing human hearts from Minnesota to Colorado, finding out that he’s in fact a Mayan athlete who made a deal with an ancient god to stay young forever. Then there was a case where three college students were turned into werewolves, which also involved some romance, drama and a lot of blood. In the end all of them decided to let the last one go – the girl named Kate –  and try to live her life feeding on animal hearts.

A few days after that, Dean got a call from someone named Benny, but only after Sam pressed did he reveal who Benny was. Sam was – to say euphemistically – not happy about his new pal and for a moment seriously contemplated cutting Benny’s head off behind Dean’s back, at least until Nick pointed out that since Dean grudgingly accepted their relationship, Sam should consider paying him back in the similar way.

Then they met Garth in Missouri while taking care of a vengeful specter. Dean lashed out on the lanky hunter when he realized the man took on Bobby’s role as an informal hunters’ information base. It took some convincing for him to finally let it go, but on the other hand – as Sam realized – Dean could be too busy fighting for his life in Purgatory to actually mourn Bobby’s death and that might be a thing preventing him from moving on. Sam had incomparably more time to sit and think of what his informal foster father would want for him – would he approve of his choices? Of Nick? Of Jesse? Sam knew that if both Bobby and John were alive, Bobby’s opinion would matter much more to him right now.

It’s not like John was objectively a bad father. He did what he thought was right, tried to prepare his sons for what life could throw at them and he did it exceptionally well. However, he wasn’t fond of Sam’s idea of a happy life and he definitely wasn’t a fan of independent thinking. Sam was pretty sure that if John had ever met Nick, it would have ended in one hell of a fight. Bobby, on the other hand… maybe Bobby would have had his back.

Sam, Dean and Nick had exactly four days of peace until Castiel appeared out of nowhere on Sam’s threshold, having no memory of how he escaped Purgatory. Dean looked as if someone took a huge burden off his shoulders. However, the first thing Castiel said when he saw Nick was:

“You smell familiar.”

And then he fainted, falling to the ground like a stone.

When he woke up a few hours later, none of them brought that comment up.

Two months later in Michigan they met Charlie, who at that time posed as the Queen of Moondoor. They worked on a case, tracking Celtic symbols mysteriously appearing on people’s wrists and finding that it was all linked to a fairy named Gilda – whom later Charlie had a vigorous making out session with. In the end all three of them decided to stay for a day or so and play Moondoor till the ‘war’ was over. However, before it happened, one of Charlie’s ‘fearless warriors’ threw down the gauntlet to Nick, challenging him to fight for ‘Sam’s affections’. All of them suspected that Charlie had a hand in it, but Nick took up the glove notwithstanding, fought and won in glory. Meanwhile, Sam almost combusted from embarrassment, especially that Dean took great pleasure in teasing his younger brother mercilessly, almost rolling on the floor in laughter. But since none of the jokes were something Sam hadn’t heard before – all the ‘princess Samantha’s’ and ‘fair maidens’ – Sam felt actually better than before. Nick also didn’t defend Sam that much from Dean’s teasing, and he definitely would if the comments seemed less friendly.

It seemed they finally got back onto their brotherly track.

II.

In mid-December when the three of them ate a very late dinner on a Friday evening, a strange man appeared out of thin air in the middle of their kitchen.

“Which one of you is John Winchester?”, he demanded, looking around frantically.

It was a weird way to meet your grandfather, but Sam already made peace with the fact that nothing related to his family could be simple and easy.

“None.”, replied Nick.

“Why?”, added Dean immediately, his voice filled with suspicion.

“Then you need to tell me where he is.”, demanded the newcomer instead of answering the question.

Dean stood up rapidly from his chair and pressed the man to the nearest wall.

“Listen, pal”, he began arrogantly, “Here’s how it’s going to go: we ask, you answer. Capiche?”

“There is no reason to resort to violence”, the man assured him calmly. “Could you please take your hands off me?”, he added.

Dean left him alone, but took his gun out in an obvious show of power.

“So maybe you should start with some explanation?”, suggested Sam.

Nick gave his chair to their unexpected guest. They made him sit and looked at him expectantly.

“I’m afraid it’s beyond you to understand this situation.”, replied the man confidently. “I do need to see John Winchester, preferably right now.” There was a hint of impatience in his voice.

A second or two after that the whole house started shaking. The man immediately got back on his feet.

“We need to run!”, he exclaimed in agitation.

Sam and Nick got their guns too, observing the room carefully.

“Oh Henry”, began the red-haired woman who suddenly appeared in their kitchen too, exactly where the man had appeared before. “You didn’t close the door. Well, you’ve always been bad at spells.”, she teased dangerously. “Tell me where it is and maybe I’ll kill you guys quickly.”, she offered after a moment’s thought.

But then all of them heard Jesse’s voice, getting closer to the kitchen with every syllable. “Guys, what’s happening? Everything all right in there?” He looked into the room and froze, seeing two strange people, one of whom was a woman in a blood-stained dress.

“Jesse, get out of here!”, commended Sam, raising his gun towards the red-head.

“Enough!”, she yelled and waved her hand. The power of this gesture send Sam, Nick, Dean and Jesse flying in four different directions of the room. “I’m done playing, Henry!”, she decided and started coming closer to the man.

That’s when Dean got his demon knife and stabbed her in the back. However, she only coughed for a moment, and then got back on her feet. “That’s no way to treat a lady!”, she observed casually and turned around to face Dean.

“You’re a guest here, ma’am.”, put in Jesse from the corner where he had landed, slowly getting back on his feet. “And that’s no way to treat your hosts!”, he hissed and made a small gesture with his hand, as if calling ‘heel’ to his dog. “Sit, bitch!”, he ordered and the woman flew from across the room and got pinned to the closest chair.

“Who are you?!”, she asked in disbelief. “Only the Devil himself could do that to me!”

Henry also looked like he wasn’t sure who was a bigger threat right now – the woman or Jesse.

Sam decided to step in. “Jesse, we talked about this.”, he reminded him calmly.

“But this is not me getting involved in your hunting!”, protested Jesse. “She attacked us in our own house!”

“He’s got a point”, acknowledged Nick, so Sam just sighed in defeat.

“Okay, whatever.”, he muttered. “But let’s not make a habit out of this.”

“But that’s not possible!”, exclaimed Henry, still shocked to the bone. “What are you?”, he asked Jesse.

“Hey!”, protested Dean firmly, before Sam or Nick could react. “It’s who, you asshole! It’s my family you’re talking to!”

Sam felt suddenly very proud of his brother for saying that.

“Can I kill her?” Jesse’s question interrupted their fierce discussion. He glanced around the people who were looking at him in surprise. “What?”, he shrugged. “She looks like she definitely wants to kill us. There’s no point in prolonging it, giving her more chance to escape and all that. So?”, he looked at Henry. “Is she possessing anybody?”

“Yeah”, admitted Henry sadly. “But there’s nothing that can be done…”, he began, but before he finished, Jesse already commended quietly:

“Get out of her.” And it was all it took for the cloud of black smoke to spill out of woman’s mouth right onto their floor. “And now, die.”, added Jesse, almost as if it was a minor detail he forgot to mention before.

The kitchen was filled with horrifying scream while the smoke burnt itself out and then the silence fell. The red-haired woman grasped, suddenly breathing heavily.

“Well, I guess I can come back to doing my homework now.”, muttered Jesse to himself.

“Yeah, seems like a good plan.”, nodded Sam, trying to fight off the feeling of wonder. On a daily basis the real range of Jesse’s skills could be easily forgotten, but the moments like that were truly humbling. “Thanks, kid.”, he added after a second, smiling at Jesse in gratitude.

“No prob, Sam.”, replied Jesse warmly, smiling at him back.

Jesse was a weird kid.

Sam really, really liked him, though.

III.

It took them a while to get Henry out of shock and make him finally explain the situation. As it turned out, accepting the truth was not easy for any of them. As soon as they decided to believe that this strange man was truly Henry Winchester, their grandfather, Sam got lost in his own thoughts. Dean, on the other hand, looked like he barely stopped himself from strangling the man for leaving John behind. Henry tried to explain his reasoning, but it showed that Dean’s accusations really got to him. Sam wasn’t entirely sure Dean had right to yell at Henry, but he stayed out of it, coming to terms with the uncovered part of his family history in silence.

Dean stormed out of the house, probably in order to blow off some stream in some violent way, Sam supposed. Henry remained in their living room, from time to time hesitantly moving from one chair to the other, reading John’s journal in sad melancholy. Once in a while he stepped into the kitchen and made himself a tea, having quickly learned how to use an electric kettle.

At one point in the middle of the night, he noticed Sam and Nick sitting close to each other on the couch, Sam’s arm embracing loosely the blond man’s shoulders, putting them in slightly more than friendly position, especially since Sam’s fingers occasionally made their way in between Nick’s hair, combing them tenderly.

Henry froze midstep, holding his steaming cup of tea half way to his mouth. Sam looked up, recognizing the shock in man’s eyes.

“Do you have problem with that?”, asked Sam calmly, deciding to continue caressing Nick’s head after a brief hesitation.

Henry took a moment to gather his thoughts and asked curiously after a moment, “Is it legal now?”

“Completely.”, affirmed Sam. “There are still some people who have problem with that, though.”, he admitted, his eyes glistening in a slight challenge. Are you one of them?

“But if we chose to go to the police with that issue, they will arrest them, not us.”, elaborated Nick.

“Then the world have truly moved on.”, decided Henry, approaching the nearest armchair and sitting on it so that they could continue their conversation in a more natural setting. “May I…”, he hesitated briefly, “have some inquiries about that?”, he managed finally, not sure if the question itself would be considered polite.

Sam raised his eyebrows, surprised by the turn this conversation took.

“I don’t mind.”, he heard Nick say. “Sam?”, Nick nudged him gently.

“Yeah, ask what you want to know.”, replied Sam finally, still in slight astonishment because of Henry’s non-judgmental attitude.

Henry took a sip of his tea, slowly gathering his thoughts.

“I don’t want to pry”, he began tentatively. “So please, tell me if I overstep some boundaries here.”, he asked. After they reassured him that he can proceed, Henry took a deeper breath and let himself speak. “I always knew it wasn’t a sickness, Men of Letters discovered it ages ago.”, he admitted in the beginning. “But I actually never anticipated that it could be lawfully acknowledged.  When did it happen?”

“Em…” Sam looked a bit startled after hearing that question. He did not see this angle coming. “Nineteen ninety-something? Sorry, I’m not entirely sure”, he admitted sheepishly, inwardly chastising himself for not knowing these things.

“17^th of May, 1990”, supplied Nick smugly. Sam glanced at him in surprise, but he only shrugged. “What, I Googled it one time.”

“Sure you did.”, muttered Sam, shaking his head in mild amusement. “Go ahead, then. Share your expertise.”, encouraged him.

And Nick gladly did. He basically gave a whole lecture about gay rights movement, when and how different states in the U.S. implemented certain regulations, what some people were fighting for and what was already won, and why some people protested so fiercely against it. Henry looked as if he barely restrained himself from taking notes on all of this.

“So, basically right now same-sex couples can legally get married in most of the states, and I expect that within a few years it will be legal in all of them, no exceptions.”, summed up Nick.

Henry looked at the both of them carefully, as if thinking of something important.

“So”, he wondered, “you are married then?”, he dared to ask.

Sam took in the picture he and Nick may have presented. Sam not taking his arm off Nick at any point of their discussion, continuously playing with his blond hair and caressing his neck from time to time. And Nick nudging Sam’s hand playfully every once in a while, as if trying to reassure him that he deeply enjoyed Sam’s proceedings. It wasn’t sexual in any way, not with Henry around – otherwise they would definitely turn it into a foreplay – but still showed lack of physical boundaries between them. Sam had almost forgotten how it was when their relationship was in the outset, when he was still sometimes shying away from Nick’s touch, when neither of them were sure how deeply the thing between them could go. Right now, however, Sam wasn’t sure if he would be able to fall asleep without Nick at his side, without his heavy breath ticking his earlobe.

Still, Henry’s question took him by surprise again.

“Married?”, he repeated, somehow flustered. “No, we’re just…”, he hesitated, because he wouldn’t use the word just in any context when it came to Nick. But Henry didn’t let him consider that no more and quickly interrupted his train of thought.

“I’m sorry, I just assumed that…”, he apologized awkwardly, and looked around briefly. “This house belongs to you two, right?”, he made sure tentatively.

“Well, yes, but…”, began Sam again, yet still was unable to fully answer.

“No, I get it.”, assured him Henry honestly. “I’m sorry for prying.”

“No, that’s fine.”, replied Nick. “Don’t apologize.”

“I don’t know how it was in your times but…”, Sam stopped for a second, still looking for words. “Marriage is not really a hunter thing, I guess.”, he finished bitterly. Sam sat still for a moment, skimming through his own thoughts. “My dad began hunting when his wife burned at our ceiling. My grandparents from my mother’s side, also hunters, both died at the hand of a demon. He snapped my grandmother’s neck while possessing my grandfather. Our dad’s friend, Bobby, had to shoot his own wife, cause she got possessed and tried to kill him. So I just… marriage and hunting combined, it rarely ends well…”, he concluded sadly.

Nick slipped out of Sam’s embrace and put his arms around Sam’s back in return. Henry noticed Nick’s thoughtful face, but the blond man refrained from speaking. Henry decided to voice his own thoughts then.

“Sam, hunting itself rarely ends well.”, he observed carefully. “If you’re married or not, it’s all the same risk. You’ll either bury your loved ones, or they will bury you.”

And that was an argument Sam really couldn’t refute. He just found himself tightening his fingers around Nick’s hands in distress.

IV.

Henry couldn’t be persuaded to simply stay in their times, especially since they revealed that John never saw him after that feral night. The Winchesters (and Nick) on the other hand, strongly fought against him returning to the past, because messing with time never ended well. Henry wouldn’t listen to their arguments, overwhelmed with guilt of having abandoned his son. While Dean almost resorted to violence, Nick decided to consult Jesse on the matter.

“Henry, Dean, sit on your asses for a moment, will you?”, Nick asked with false politeness, “I have an idea that might help us reach a compromise.”, he revealed and ten looked harshly at Henry. “If you do anything that may endanger Sam’s existence before I come back, I’ll personally hunt you down through time and murder you right before little John’s eyes. And trust me, that won’t reflect well on his upbringing.”, he promised darkly and with terrifying honesty. He never used half-measures when Sam’s safety was at stake.

But when he and Jesse appeared before the Winchesters half an hour later, both of them were emanating with calmness and confidence.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.”, announced Jesse, showing one of the books he took from the Men of Letters’ bunker in Lebanon. “I’m gonna use this spell”, he pointed to the opened page with a large diagram hand-painted on it. “And send you back in time to your son. But”, he emphasized, “at the same time I’m gonna split the timeline as soon as you arrive there. You will be back to properly raise your son, but you’ll also have to make peace with the fact that there will be another John in another timeline; the John you never got back to. It’s a tough compromise, but a compromise nonetheless.”, summed up Jesse.

“You can do that?”, asked Henry, confusion showing on his face.

“If the spell is correct, then I can.”, assured him Jesse.

“Does you power have any limit at all?” Henry couldn’t hide his disbelief.

“If it does, I still have to find it.”, replied Jesse with a shrug.

They did it and it worked. Sam only wondered to what extent this solution could be considered a happy ending.

V.

Since Dean came back into his life, Sam hadn’t wondered how to define his relationship with Nick. It simply was and it was good for him − that’s it. But Henry’s words made him reassess everything about Nick’s place in his life.

Their relationship was a constant thing in Sam’s life, something he wished for since he left for college. But it wasn’t just sweetness, vanilla and playing house together kind of thing. At first Sam waited for the moment when he would finally feel drained of emotion, when he would decide that he has to move on, leave Nick behind just like he’d done with many other things in his life. So far, leaving everything and everybody except from his brother was the only pattern in Sam’s life, basically his MO. But that moment never came and there were so many things that happened in between; vampires, werewolves, Kevin, dealing with the tablets, Jesse, wendigo, specters, ghouls, banshees, Dean’s return, demons, angels, Henry, and more. Sam barely had time to take a deeper breath at times, but when he finally stopped to think about it, he realized that Nick became so entwined with his life that he wouldn’t be able to even imagine his current world without him in it.

And even if the feelings were to become slightly faded – which definitely was not the case – there would still be the matter of passion between them. And okay, Sam had to admit that during his relationship with Jessica he was still young and unexperienced, so some initial awkwardness couldn’t be avoided. Yet, even though he wasn’t more experienced in gay sex when he started his thing with Nick than he was in the regular one when he first made love with Jess, it still surprised him how little awkwardness arose between him and Nick during their first time. Even if something didn’t go exactly according to their plans, it still didn’t matter because they made up for it with passion. Sam had literally never felt with anyone the way he felt while being with Nick.

Nick turned out to be a very skillful lover, taking care of Sam every time he needed it. However, in most cases, what Sam actually needed was relief and oblivion – and Nick took great pleasure in providing those for Sam, too. Sometimes, when Jesse was sure to be out, Nick would corner Sam in the living room and press him into the wall with no warning whatsoever. In a first few months Sam used to instinctively defend himself for a moment before his senses acknowledged that he was not actually in danger. But Nick was a strong man, and after the adrenaline kicked in, Sam became even more sensitive to various physical stimuli, which Nick was happy to take advantage of. He would leave a wet trace of his kisses on Sam’s jaw and down his neck, taking his time opening buttons of Sam’s shirt, one by one, while deeply inhaling Sam’s scent. Before his relationship with Nick, Sam had never expected he would ever find another man’s stubble so hot that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands from the man’s body. Now he barely hesitated when it only occurred to him to touch Nick, especially since the man always reacted so eagerly. And even if the contact began with Nick pressing Sam to the wall, the tables were always turned very soon when Sam grabbed Nick’s wrists and turned both of them, pinning Nick to the wall instead, holding his hands up.

“I’ll tie them up one day”, promised sometimes Sam, but he never actually did; instead, he often ordered Nick not to move his hands – or other parts of the body – challenging his self-control. Every time Nick complied, he was profusely rewarded afterwards with Sam’s tongue exploring various parts of his body, every time getting bolder than previously.

Another thing that Sam never thought he would discover about himself was that − even though everything they did with Nick was metaphorically speaking hot − literally it was quite the opposite; and Sam grew to like that coldness. It freaked him out at the beginning, made him think of Lucifer in the ways he never ever should and never ever would admit to anyone that he did. Nick wasn’t always cold, and even when he was, it wasn’t to abnormal degrees. Just cool enough that Sam could feel the tingling sensation on his skin every time Nick licked or otherwise touched him. Strangely enough, this sensation seemed to disappear outside the intimate part of their relationship. But since Sam never got around asking about it at first, he decided not to do it later either. He got used to it, liked it, and honestly, even if he knew the right question, he wouldn’t want to know the answer. Sam Winchester, the master of denial – but it got so much easier with every single time Nick brought him to the edge with his ice-cold tongue. Well…okay, so maybe sometimes it was to abnormal degrees, but Sam consciously decided to ignore it. What you don’t know, cannot hurt you.

One day, after honestly brilliant and extremely passionate sex, Sam saw his own breath materializing as a haze right in front of his nose. He froze, Lucifer suddenly appearing in his mind’s eye, but Nick wasn’t having any of that. He caught Sam in another one of many hungry kisses, cooling his lips even further and Sam responded by passionately tangling their tongues together, pressing Nick’s naked hips closer to his own. Nick was addictive; when they started Sam couldn’t make himself stop, but he also didn’t see the reason to.

Nick was an eager bottom in their bed, but it was the only place where he let himself be passive. And even that could be sometimes called into question, because he never let Sam be fully in control of the act. He guided Sam’s hands on his body, letting them wander only where he wanted them to go, encouraging Sam to go even rougher on him when needed. Sam wasn’t used to having lovers that could endure that much strength from him, but he grew to appreciate that; the fact that he could basically let his instincts loose. He wouldn’t hurt Nick; Nick wouldn’t allow that to happen. He knew his own body and the limits of Sam’s strength. When he requested rough, Sam knew he actually meant it. And Sam was impressed by the effects he could achieve by playing it right, what hoarse sounds he could hear while caressing Nick’s body.

Their sex was bordering on violent, but Sam wouldn’t say it was brutal. It’s just, when they grabbed each other, they did it in full strength, without hesitation, without invitation. After the depth of their mutual attraction was uncovered, they knew the other would always respond with the same fierce emotion. When they kissed, they barely remembered to keep breathing, their lips never separating even for a second. When they undressed each other, they didn’t bother folding their clothes, or sometimes even taking them off completely; and this routine remained the same regardless of whether it was the first month of their relationship, or the fifteenth. The only thing that mattered was to be closer to each other, to feel the skin, to taste the biggest part of it, make the other scream in pleasure as soon as possible and keep him that way for as long as they could manage.

And they screamed, both of them; screamed and begged and moaned, feeling sweat on their backs, yet not giving up their goals even for a single moment. Sometimes their fingers intertwined, but it was far from a romantic gesture; they held each other in place, shifting into a different position, making love at another angle and as a result making even more noises.

When they came back from their hunting trips, sex became nearly animalistic. Still feeling fresh blood on their hands and the weight of the weapon, they would clash their mouths together and fuck – there was no better word for their quick and ferocious activities – wherever the place allowed them to.

Once, after a particularly nasty case when they were forced to watch some random vengeful hunter kill a kitsune, who despite the error in her ways really deserved to live, Sam just pulled the Impala over during their trip back home and got out of the car. The night had already fallen, so there was no prying eyes on the untraveled dirt road. As soon as Nick followed Sam and got out too, joining him and leaning on the front part of the Impala, Sam pushed him onto the bonnet even further, spread his legs and stood in between them.

“I need you”, he whispered hoarsely, holding Nick’s head tightly by the blond hair. Nick immediately put his legs around Sam’s muscular waist and pressed himself tightly to Sam’s torso, embracing his back.

“Then take me”, he replied, his voice already filled with arousal. And Sam did, slipping Nick’s trousers off only a little, gaining the access to most interesting part of his body. Then he turned Nick around, bent him over the bonnet, freed himself from his pants and took him like a regular whore, with the exception that Nick loved every second of it and loudly moaned for Sam to proceed. And when they were done, Sam leaned on the bonnet together with Nick, trying to find his breath again.

“Thank you.”, breathed Sam, his fingers still combing Nick’s hair gently.

“My pleasure”, replied Nick in amusement, finding the strength to brace himself on his elbow. He reached out to Sam and put the loose strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Sam”, he murmured, his eyes still clouded with pleasure.

“And you’re completely shameless.”, pointed out Sam teasingly.

“And this”, Nick gestured around them, “was totally your idea.” He breathed in fresh air for a moment, and then added cheekily, “But I certainly don’t give a slightest damn if anybody sees my naked ass on Dean’s precious Impala, especially if you fuck me like that.”

“If Dean ever finds out about it…”, murmured Sam, shaking his head in mild amusement.

“I’d happily tell him how fun it was.”, assured him Nick, grinning like a madman.

And maybe he was, Sam mused later, but Sam himself was definitely in no position to judge.

VI.

Sam really wasn’t sure how he let Nick talk him into this. Well, maybe talk into wasn’t the best expression to use when talking about the goddamn marriage, which Sam fully aware consented to. But still, he simply couldn’t get his head around the fact that he is wearing an engagement ring – not on his finger, however; Nick gave him it on a chain to wear around his neck, deciding that it will be more convenient during hunts − and that soon he will have a husband.

Apparently, Nick took Henry’s words to heart and a few weeks later, when he and Sam were driving home after one of their minor hunting trips, Nick said suddenly:

“Marry me.”

Fortunately there was little traffic on the road, because Sam immediately hit the brakes and stopped the car with the screech of the tires. He decided not to give a slightest damn about the fact that he stopped in the middle of the road. He turned the hazard lights on only to prevent anybody from interrupting their conversation.

“What?” Sam turned his head towards Nick, being almost certain that he misheard.

But Nick’s expression was hundred percent serious.

“Marry me.”, he repeated calmly, but with the same earnestness.

At some point Sam realized that he opened his mouth three times already, but nothing came out of them.

“Are you insane?”, he finally managed. But Nick only shook his head, smiling mildly.

“No, why?”, he replied in a calm manner. “Marry me.”, he asked again.

“But…”, protested Sam, yet the thought immediately disappeared from his mind.

“Marry me.” Nick’s tone of voice suggested that he would gladly keep on repeating himself for as long as it took.

“Why?”, asked Sam, not even trying to hide that he completely wasn’t able to comprehend Nick’s thread of thoughts.

“Just because.”, Nick replied, but after a moment he decided to have mercy on Sam, so he elaborated, continuously looking into Sam’s eyes. “Because I love you, Sam.”, he said honestly, “And I want to make you mine.”

Sam felt his throat dry suddenly, so he swallowed self-consciously and tightened his fingers around the steering wheel.

“But Nick, am I not yours already?” he asked tentatively, shifting on his seat uncomfortably. They had never done this before – openly talking about their feelings, confessing them to one another. They paid each other plenty of compliments, made a lot of casual sexual innuendos on a daily basis, sure; but never that. That was another step in the game and Sam grew out of being confident while talking about his feelings.

“You are but…”, Nick’s voice faltered while he tenderly squeezed Sam’s hand in return. “But I want to…”, he hesitated for a second, but then continued with even more conviction than before, “I need to stand with you before God and tell him, tell that bastard that I am happy with you and that I will never, ever stop loving you and that I don’t fucking care what else he decides to throw at me, Hell, Heaven, Purgatory, nothing will change how I feel and that just thinking about the time with you will always make me happy. I need him to know that despite all the shit we went through because he couldn’t make his kids play nice, we still managed to make it work. And that I am proud of us.”

Sam knew that something in Nick’s words should have made him stop and think. The desire to mark Sam as his, the perverse need to prove God wrong and the reference to the pride. And yet, despite all those signs – or maybe because of them? – Sam found himself saying:

“I’ll marry you. Let’s do this.”

Suddenly, never in his life was he more sure that he wants to do something.

VIII.

Even though Sam wasn’t ashamed of his sudden engagement, he refrained from telling Dean about it. He also asked Nick not to, at least for the time being, because being engaged made Sam ridiculously happy and he didn’t want to rub this feeling in Dean’s face – Dean really didn’t need this kind of news right now. He sulked around the house, trying to look busy, but in fact kept constantly thinking of Castiel. Sam heard him praying in the middle of a night once or twice, but to no avail.

Since Castiel got back from Purgatory, the angel became rather elusive. At first they thought it was because he still felt guilty, especially when they found out he decided to stay in Purgatory of his own volition, yet they soon began to doubt that it was a sufficient explanation. Castiel seemed even more distant than ever before, he stopped himself in the middle of a sentence, as if something physically prevented him from continuing his thread of thought. He sometimes forgot what they had talked about before, even though they knew his memory was rather exceptional. And last but not least, he refused to stay with them in Sam and Nick’s house on account that he had important stuff to take care of – his words exactly.

Sam and Dean were generally used to Castiel’s weird behavior, but those last months in particular made them uneasy. Well, it was Sam who was only uneasy but Dean, on the other hand, was actively worrying about the angel. He would walk around the kitchen, restless and fidgety, drinking one coffee after another and praying once in a while. However, his calls were mostly left unanswered those days, which didn’t make the situation any better.

Sam himself spent some time thinking of this situation and decided that Cas’s behavior was definitely strange, mostly because ever since they had met him, Castiel could be easily thought of as Dean’s shadow. They did share a very profound bond, which Sam inwardly translated as ‘we want to shag, but we’re respectively too hetero- and asexual to actually do it’, which made up a complicated more-than-friends-but-we-will-never-say-it-out-loud relationship. Therefore Castiel’s elusiveness left Dean concerned and deeply troubled.

That’s why when Crowley appeared out of nowhere in Sam and Nick’s bedroom late in the evening, his face contorted in anger, Sam knew that something will soon turn into shit.

Crowley’s visit was even more unnerving, since he interrupted Sam and Nick their foreplay and with a single wave of his hand threw them into a wall.

“How dare you?!”, he yelled as a hello, looking more pissed than ever.

Sam got back on his feet slowly, rubbing the back of his head in growing irritation. “How dare I what, Crowley? Sleep with my fiancé?”, he growled back at the king of hell.

“Don’t play dumb, Moose, it doesn’t suit you.”, hissed Crowley, crossing his hands arrogantly.

“Okay, we can throw some insults back and forth”, interrupted them Nick, slowly putting his shirt back on his arms, but not bothering to button it. “Or we can use some actual words, be brief and constructive about whatever you think we did to piss you off so much.”, he suggested, supporting his hands on his hips.

Crowley took a deep breath, as if trying to stop himself from strangling Nick then and there, and he spat:

“You took the tablets!”, he accused them icily. “We had a deal, you morons.”, he reminded them dangerously. “And I take those very seriously.”

“Woah!”, stopped him Sam immediately. “So do we. We haven’t even thought of the tablets since we parted our ways last time, so shove it.”, he said defiantly. “Do you even have an actual proof that it was us, or simply somebody took them and you just took a wild guess?”

Crowley gritted his teeth and, instead of admitting, he replied:

“But who else would do that?”

Sam huffed in annoyance.

“That’s what we need to find out, apparently. I don’t want anybody to use the tablets any more than you do.”, Sam admitted.

“By the way, how do you know they were stolen, since we agreed not to even look for them?”, demanded Nick suddenly.

Crowley cleared his throat and pointedly avoided their heavy gaze.

“Crowley…”, hissed Sam threateningly.

“What! I needed to keep an eye on them in order to make sure you keep your end of the deal! And apparently it was a clever thing to do, since now we immediately know there’s somebody in the game.”, explained Crowley, trying to sound casually.

Sam simply rolled his eyes in disapproval. “And yet you have the guts to throw me onto my own wall and scold me for breaking the deal…”, he reproached.

“Oh, don’t be so petty, Moose” Crowley waved his hand in dismissive gesture and snapped his fingers, putting their clothes together back on their bodies. Sam just glared at him in return. “What?”, replied Crowley. “We need to go, you can finish your sinning later. I’ll call Squirrel.”, he added commandingly.

Sam and Nick exchanged irritated looks and Sam sighed, shaking his head.

“I fucking hate him.”, he muttered, but followed the king of Hell nonetheless.

IX.

They found Kevin dead. He lied in the middle of his living room, which they found thanks to Crowley bending his part of a deal and keeping an eye on the prophet. His eyes were burnt out, which was probably the most confusing part.

“Why would the angels need the tablets for?”, asked Sam nobody in particular, after he gathered his thoughts after seeing the prophet dead.

“Well, Moose, I believe we all can have a pretty nice guess.”, hissed Crowley. “Which is, by the way, terrifyingly convenient for you, isn’t it?”, he accused, gritting his teeth. “Are you teaming up with angels now?”

“Hey, hey!”, stopped him Dean immediately, not even trying to sound defensive. “I don’t like it any more than you do! I admit, I won’t be protesting much if somebody closes your ass in hell, but whatever is happening right now is not our doing.”

“And I agree that we have to find out what’s going on.”, added Sam. “Do we have any lead at all? Except from the fact that it’s angels?”

This situation began the series of events that escalated way too quickly for them to keep up with and turned into a mess of almost apocalyptic size.

X.

The darkness of the sky was suddenly illuminated by billions of fiery dots. Sam turned to Dean, his eyes widely opened in pure horror, still hoping that his brain supplied him with the wrong explanation of this phenomena. But Dean looked up in the sky with the same expression painted on his face.

“No, Cas”, he whispered, anguish and disappointment pouring form his voice.

“Dean, what’s happening?!”, asked Sam, because even though he had all of this happening right in front of his face, he still wanted a confirmation from his brother.

“Angels…”, said Dean almost only to himself, as if he still couldn’t process the sight, “are falling.”

Sam had so many questions swimming through his head that the only thing he actually managed to do was stepping closer to Nick and finding his hand with his own. He intertwined their fingers tightly, not sparing even a single look at their hands. Their eyes were focused solely on what was happening above their heads.

Sam noticed many pairs of wings encircled by fire falling limply towards the ground, first attached to the vessels’ bodies, then separately. At some height the wings seemed to be disappearing completely, as if wiped off by the force of the wind. One pair, however, stood out – and with every passing second it became clearer and clearer why. They didn’t fade away and it didn’t look as if the wings were going to vanish any time soon. On the contrary, they seemed to shine more vividly as the distance between them and the hunters diminished.

“Christ, they are going right at us!”, yelled Sam as soon as it dawned on him. “Hide!”

Sam pulled Nick’s arm and directed them towards a nearby grove of trees with thick trunks. Dean was standing further from it, so he headed for the huge wooden barn and hid behind it.

But as they changed their positions, so did the pair of wigs. Nick eyes filled with terror and Sam only saw in them the reflection of fire before he was thrown onto the nearest tree by the impact. However, Sam was not the actual target. Nick lost contact with the ground as the wings hit him, throwing him over ten meters away.

“NICK!”, yelled Sam as soon as he recovered and ran towards his partner, fighting off panic arising in his guts.

“Sam! Sam, what happened?!” Sam heard Dean’s voice from the distance, but he ignored it as he watched the smoke around Nick’s body slowly fade.

“Sam…”, he heard Nick’s raspy voice, still full of terror. Their eyes met for a second – Nick’s were strangely glowing. He braced himself on his elbow and rolled onto his side trying to get up, but failing. He heard Sam approaching quickly and he stretched his hand in front of himself, as if trying to put some distance between the two of them.

“Don’t come any closer!”, he rasped, breathing heavily in pain.

“Nick, what’s happening?!” Sam slowed down, but didn’t stop completely.

The light from Nick’s eyes became growing steadily inside him, filling his body from head to toe. Only then did Sam notice that the wings were still attached – this time to Nick himself. But they weren’t limp; they were beating rapidly, expressing panic and terror, seemingly trying to get as far away as possible but all that effort was in vain.

It was what finally made Sam freeze.

“Sam, run!”, pleaded Nick frantically, clumsily moving away from him. The light took over his eyes and immediately after started pouring out from his mouth. Soon it was for Sam too bright to look at.

“SAM, RUN!”, heard Sam one more time, but he only had time to cover his eyes before the explosion reached his ears. The light blinded him, the sound deafened him. First Sam felt that the ground moved away from his legs, then the heat began burning the skin on his face and arms. A second later there was only darkness.

Three minutes later Dean finally managed to see something through the dust. He ran towards the place where he’d heard his brother’s scream. But the first thing he saw was not his brother; he saw a human-shaped figure standing in the bright light, cutting the dust around himself with what looked like wing shaped shadows. Dean knew that shadows all too well.

“You!”, he yelled accusingly, still scanning the ground around himself with the corners of his eyes in search for his brother.

“Where’s Sam?”, asked the angel, which was using Nick’s worried voice.

And as Dean took in that picture, Nick’s emotionless face, Nick’s prideful posture and the wings behind him, it suddenly fell into place.

“Lucifer!”

XI.

The doctors evaluated Sam’s chance to wake up for about two percent. Dean firmly believed that it was enough because his brother was a fighter and he had definitely survived worse. It was the least of his worries, actually, because Dean knew that waking up itself won’t solve anything.

Sam got badly burnt during the explosion. Badly as in – really badly. Dean literally couldn’t force himself to look at his brother’s arms and legs, where the skin was basically peeling off by itself. Sam would never be able to fire a gun, or probably even manage to hold it properly. He would never be able to run, he would never be able to drive – Dean was told Sam will be considered lucky if they won’t have to amputate his left leg. But even if they decided to leave it attached, it would never be of much use to Sam. The temperature of the explosion was so high that most of Sam’s skin simply melted or began to, so when Dean saw a glimpse of Sam’s nails he had to spend the next minutes in the bathroom, vomiting and crying simultaneously. The whole Sam’s head was covered in scorches and eskers to the point that he didn’t even look like himself anymore. All the long brown hair was gone, burnt or cut by the nurses who needed access to Sam’s head injuries.

Sam was sleeping with plenty of tubes wrapped around him and an IV in his forearm. Dean stayed awake, but it wasn’t really his choice – he simply couldn’t get calm enough to fall asleep. He had too many things to think about; Sam’s future, Castiel, possible consequences of closed Heaven and of course – Lucifer rising again. Was Nick even real for the last months? Or was Lucifer posing as him all along? But why would he? To get close to Sam? Well, he definitely managed to do that and Dean did his best not to imagine how he will tell Sam about Lucifer. It would be way better if Nick simply died; not… this. Because this wasn’t just a matter of broken heart, the matter of losing a loved one – no, it was the matter of manipulation, betrayal and dragging Sam into Hell’s grand scheme all over again. Dean wasn’t sure Sam could handle that – hell, he wasn’t sure he would cope himself either!

Thoughts were running through Dean’s head but suddenly he felt his eyelids flutter drowsily, as if he was already half asleep. That feeling was so unexpected that his adrenaline levels had immediately risen, but it helped him stay awake only for a couple seconds more. Then his eyes closed against his will and Dean hit Sam’s bed with his forehead, already snoring loudly.

The door to Sam’s room opened with mild creak, which was followed by the sound of slow, confident steps on the wooden floor. A hand grabbed the handle and closed the door gently. Lucifer took in the sight of Dean sitting hunched, his head leaning against the sheet in what must be an incredibly uncomfortable position. Thinking of the backache that Dean will definitely have any other day would make Lucifer smirk a little, but not this time.

He circled the room and got closer to Sam’s bed, he was touching the metal frame with his leg. Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, Lucifer lifted his hand and gently put it onto Sam’s, not being deterred by the skin damage in the least. The readings of the life-supporting systems have immediately gone crazy, reverberating in the room loudly and piercingly. Lucifer silenced them with a simple wave of hand and the room filled with silence.  

“Sam.”

Lucifer’s voice cut that silence like a blade but he made an effort to keep it quiet, even though there was nobody that could actually listen.

“I promised I will never hurt you.”, he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in mourning. “How come you always try to prove me wrong, even if it’s to your own demise?”

Since there was no reply, Lucifer stood for a moment in silence, only listening to his own breath. Then, as if realizing that he is doing it simply from force of habit, he stopped and so the silence became completely undisturbed.

“I know you can hear me, even if your consciousness doesn’t give you access to it just yet. But I believe some day it will come back to you.”, he began, finally deciding to sit on the verge of Sam’s bed, his eyes not leaving Sam’s face even for a second, even for a blink. He leaned forward and tenderly slid his finger against Sam’s cheek, the injuries disappearing immediately under his tough.

“I could heal you, I could heal all of you.”, continued Lucifer, smoothly moving his fingers towards Sam’s neck, grabbing it as if to strangle him, but in the end only petting it delicately and letting the injuries heal themselves. “But I will not.”, he revealed decisively, if a bit sadly. His fingers travelled downwards, passing the collarbone and sternum, meticulously moving through every single rib and then going back up to the place where Sam’s heart was beating steadily. “I can heal only your body after all.”, sighed Lucifer in quiet melancholy.

“Now, you have to listen to me very carefully.”, he demanded seriously from the unconscious Sam, entwining their fingers once again. “I promised to give you everything.”, he reminded him gently. “And I believe it is high time for me to fulfil that promise.” Lucifer took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling the air slowly and deeply. In the middle of the process he realized again it’s pointlessness but finished it nonetheless, shrugging off the implications of this choice. With a mere thought he restored Sam’s hair back to their proper place and length only to be able to comb them with his fingers.

“Now, this is what is going to happen…”

XII.

Sam was suddenly woken up by some muffled noise from the other room. He opened his eyes and got out of bed before he could even take a proper look at his surroundings. Yet when he was already on his feet, he took a look around and froze.

This wasn’t his house and this wasn’t any of the motel rooms they stayed in. Yet it was terrifyingly familiar. The walls, the floor, the desk, shelves, books, framed pictures… Everything was just as in his memories. Then he realized another thing and felt his heart stop.

Risking a glance at the bed, his suspicion was confirmed. It was a dream – only there could he see Jess sleeping so peacefully. But why would he dream of her now? He hadn’t been dreaming of Jess for a very long time.

Suddenly, Sam heard the noise again and this time he immediately decided to check it out. Tiptoeing through the hallway, he saw Dean lurking in the shadows, looking around wearily.

So he was dreaming of that night, Sam realized. He briefly wondered if anything would change if he refrained from kicking Dean’s ass this time – since he knew he wasn’t a burglar of any kind. But before he decided whether or not to go along with what he remembered about that particular situation, he heard Dean whisper:

“Sammy, are you here?”

Well, that definitely didn’t happen in the original setting, thought Sam and decided to play along so he entered the room and turned the light on.

“Dean, what’s happening?”, he asked simply, even though he already had a general idea.

Dean visibly hesitated and then slowly replied: “I believe what I’m supposed to say now is…”, Dean cleared his throat and quoted himself, “Dad’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Chapter Text

I.

“Dean, what’s happening?”, asked Sam sternly, his eyes glowing with suspicion. “What do you mean what I’m supposed to say?”

Dean sighed.

“How much do you remember, Sam?”, Dean asked carefully.

“What the hell do you mean? Why are we here, Dean?” Sam just saw his long dead girlfriend sleeping peacefully right beside him; he wasn’t in the mood for riddles.

“I mean, I have to know if you’re my Sam or the Sam from the past.”, clarified Dean sternly.

Sam’s heart stopped for a moment.

“No. No, no, no.”, Sam said, shaking his head in disbelief, taking a couple steps aback. “This is just my dream, this is not happening.”, he repeated to himself.

Dean let breath out in relief.

“So I take it that you’re my Sam, Sam from 2013.”, he concluded.

“I am.”, confirmed Sam. “But what’s going on here? Are we really…?”

“Yes, we are, and I have no idea.”, replied Dean. “I just… I fell asleep in hospital and suddenly I’m in Impala somewhere near here. I started looking for some answers, I stopped at the gas station and picked a newspaper. It’s 2005, Sam. And it’s the day I came to you and told you about dad being missing.”

“Do you think it’s temporary? You think angles did it?”, kept asking Sam, combing hair with his fingers anxiously.

“Maybe?”, Dean’s voice was suggesting he didn’t have a clue.

“Either way, we have to figure out how to get back.”, decided Sam firmly. “I don’t wanna find out what lesson or whatever they have for us this time. And they taught us already that the past cannot be changed…”, recalled Sam with irritation.

“Sam…” Dean’s sad voice immediately caught Sam’s attention and he looked up at his brother, raising his eyebrow in question. Dean cleared his throat and continued: “I don’t think you really remember what happened before we got into this timeline…”

Sam frowned and focused for a moment on recalling the recent events.

“We were looking for Castiel… Kevin’s dead…”, he muttered sadly and then it dwelled on him, “The angles were falling!”

“And…?”, prompted him Dean. “Do you remember what happened then?”

“The wings… the wings hit Nick!”, realized Sam, his eyes widening in terror. “What happened to him, Dean?! I don’t remember!”

“Because you were hit.”, explained Dean, wondering where this calmness came from. “And your condition was critical. The doctors were not sure if you will make it at all.”

But Sam wasn’t paying attention to the details of his health.

“But what happened to Nick?! Is he alright? We have to go back, Dean!”, Sam insisted.

That’s when all the Dean’s calmness evaporated within a second.

“Are you listening to me, Sam?!”, he raised his voice suddenly. “There is nothing to go back to! You’re almost dead! You hear me?! DEAD. You don’t even look like yourself. Your hair is burnt, your skin is burnt, you don’t have any fucking fingernails! You won’t be even able to get up on your own – not now, not in a month, maybe not ever! And you wanna go back?!”, Dean stopped to take a breath. “Whoever send us here”, he began after a moment, slowly and more evenly this time, “we should thank them.”, he concluded firmly. “Because maybe that’s the only way for you to be fine again.”

Sam opened his mouth to argue some more, but seeing the troubled look on Dean’s face, he closed it for a moment and re-thought what he was about to say.

“But how can you be sure we can stay here? The other travels in time… they were not permanent. What makes you think this one is different?”, asked Sam finally.

“Nothing.”, admitted Dean. “But I have to hope, ‘cause I never want to see you like that again.”

“What about Nick?”, Sam dared to ask after a moment of total silence. “Was he alright?”

Dean’s eyes hardened.

“He’s gone.”, he replied firmly. “Not dead, but gone”, he clarified for Sam’s sake. “Those wings that got to him… Sam, I don’t think it was a coincidence.”, said Dean grimly. “I think… they were his wings.”

“How can you know, Dean?”, asked Sam, doubting his brother’s reasoning. But he wasn’t in a mood for a fight, not when Dean was the only person in this reality whom he could be honest with.  

“I… it’s just a feeling.”, admitted Dean after a while. “But either way, he’s gone, Sam. He looked me in the eye and disappeared, left you lying there on the ground, dying. Forget about him, Sam.”, advised Dean firmly.

Sam stayed silent for a while and Dean wasn’t able to judge what he was thinking. His hands tightened into fists, but only for a moment, then Sam relaxed them once again and looked back at his brother.

“We need to plan what to do next.”, Sam decided, not acknowledging Dean’s last comment in any way.

Dean decided to let it go – for now.

II.

Jessica woke up before they managed to plan anything important. They tried to keep their voices low, but apparently it wasn’t enough.

“Sam?”, she asked gently, coming into the room wearing only the underwear and the Smurf T-shit on it. “What’s happening?”

Dean’s smile immediately widened as he eyed her from her hair to her bare feet.

“Well, I do still like Smurfs”, he confessed with a wide shit eating grin, almost exactly like he did all those years ago. This time, however, Sam didn’t just glare at him, but he smacked him in the head as if Dean was a naughty child.

“Jessica, this is my brother Dean.”, explained Sam calmly. “Ignore him.”, he advised.

But Jessica disregarded this advice and looked at Dean questioningly.

“Why are you here at this hour? Has something happened?”, she asked in worry.

Dean looked at Sam wondering what he should tell her. Sam stayed silent for a moment, sliding his eyes from Jessica to Dean and back. He could calm her down, put Dean to sleep on a couch, get some sleep himself and go back to this topic in the morning. It was around 3 o’clock after all. But would those few hours really change anything? Jessica wouldn’t just fall asleep beside him, she would want some answers immediately and even if he promised to answer later, she wouldn’t get much sleep anyway. Sam also wouldn’t sleep a wink. Besides, lying next to Jessica after all those years, as if nothing happened, as if it was just another night for them... Sam just couldn’t do it.

But what was he supposed to do instead?

“Sam?”, Dean’s voice brought him back from his thoughts. “How are we going to play this out?”

Asking him this question Dean basically offered that he would follow Sam’s lead in this situation. Sam understood there was no ‘good’ way out of this, only the bad and the worse one. As he decided what he was going to do, Sam realized he wasn’t sure which one it will turn out to be. But either way, the choice was made.

Sam combed his hair sadly and looked up at Jessica with determination.

“You need to get dressed and then call Brady. I don’t care what you tell him, but he needs to come here as soon as possible. Also, try to mention that you’re alone in the house.”, commended Sam firmly.

Surprised, Jessica wanted to protest and demand some explanation, but Sam quickly cut off her protests and pressed her into following his orders.  His voice was strong, firm and commanding. But what astonished Dean the most was that it seemed detached. Just as if Jessica was simply another woman endangered by supernatural stuff they hunted.

After she complied and went to change her clothes, Sam turned to Dean:

“Grab the spray paint from Impala. I’m gonna get salt.” And he left the room, leaving Dean with raised eyebrows.

III.

Dean noticed that when he came back from the car, Sam carried a black messenger bag that Dean vaguely recognized but couldn’t pinpoint where from. Sam certainly never had such bag himself. But before he could ask, Jessica came back and told them that Brady will come in about twenty minutes. They didn’t have time to waste; they needed to prepare.

Dean suspected what Sam wanted to do with Brady, but the reality surpassed his expectations.

“Listen, blondie”, said Dean to Jessica after fifteen minutes or so. “You’d better hide. You don’t wanna see this.”

But he was surprised when Sam’s voice interrupted grimly: “No.”, Sam said sharply. “Jessica, you stay here. And you watch. But if I say ‘run’, you run. Understood?”

Jessica only managed to nod quickly, looking at Sam as if she saw him for the first time. Dean’s stomach clenched uncomfortably at this sight.

Suddenly, there was knocking at the door.

“Jessica, you there?”, came Brady’s voice from behind. “Everything alright? You seemed pretty shaken up!”

Sam opened the door rapidly and grabbed the blond guy by the collar, pulling him right into the Devil’s trap that was painted right behind the threshold.

The demon inside Brady immediately understood what happened.

“Winchester!”, it hissed angrily. “How did you…?”

It couldn’t finish, because Sam emptied the flask full of holly water right at its face. A blood-curdling scream pierced the room and probably the whole building. Sam didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“You son of a bitch!”, yelled the demon towards Sam. “You have no idea what you started! I will burn you! I will eat your guts!!!” It thrashed in the trap from one end to the other, causing some furniture to creak or slightly move back or forth. All the windows swung open and freezing wind filled up the room. Jessica shivered, but not only because of the wind, whereas Sam barely paid any attention. His sole focus was on Brady.

“I know exactly what I started. You, on the other hand, you have no idea who you are messing with.”, said Sam in a low, dangerous voice.

“And what are you going to do, sweetie?”, mocked him the demon. “You can throw as much holly water on me as you want, it ain’t gonna change a thing. Your pal Brady is all mine! And I ain’t gonna give him back!”

Sam only smiled darkly in response.

“Oh you poor, stupid bastard.”, Sam chuckled after a moment. He approached the Devil’s trap circle so that his shoes almost touched it. Sam’s body showed no fear. He continued condescendingly: “You really think I brought you here to save Brady? At this point, I don’t give a damn about Brady. Sorry, pal.”, he taunted. “You’re here ‘cause I won’t let you kill Jessica.”

That last statement brought surprise to Brady’s face.

“How can you possibly know about…?!”

“Shut up”, silenced him Sam, opening another flask and spilling some holly water on Brady’s face again, which made the demon hiss in pain. “I will talk and you will listen.”, he commanded. “Or else, I snap Brady’s neck and puff, you’re gone.” And something in Sam’s tone clearly said that he actually considered that possibility and was fully prepared for it. Despite that, the demon decided to call Sam’s bluff.

“Who are you kidding? You don’t have balls to kill him! And I dare you to try and kill me with your toys! I’m a demon, boy!!!”, it yelled and began laughing mockingly.

Sam calmly stepped away from the trap and approached the black messenger back lying on the table in the corner of the room. He slowly took what he wanted from it and came back to face Brady. In his hand was Ruby’s knife.

One swift move later the demon was kneeling on the floor, holding its bleeding face that now had a long and deep cut running across it. It couldn’t open the left eye, as Sam cut right through it. And as the demon tried to get a grip on itself, Sam got down on one knee beside it and whispered right into Brady’s ear:

“Trust me when I say I have the balls to kill Brady and the means to kill you. And I’m gonna use both unless you do exactly as I say.”

The demon sat still for a few seconds, then slowly nodded.

IV.

The demon left Brady’s body relatively unharmed and went back to Hell.

“Sam Winchester’s girlfriend burnt on the ceiling, just like his mother.”, it reported back to Azazel, also known as the Yellow-Eyed demon.

“So Sam is back in family business? Looking for revenge?” Azazel needed to make sure.

“Indeed, sir. Driving with Dean in the Impala as we speak. They’re trying to find John and kill you.”, confirmed the demon.

“Perfect.” Azazel’s lips widened in a smile. “Everything is going just as I planned.”

The demon hesitated and then suggested quietly:

“I don’t think it’s wise to underestimate Sam Winchester, sir.”, he mentioned non-committally.

Azazel frowned.

“Why, did you had any trouble with the task?”

The demon thought for a moment, briefly hesitating. Then it shook its head.

“No, not at all.”, it replied finally. “It was just an opinion.”

Then it disappeared and made it a goal of its life to never cross paths with any Winchester ever again.

V.

Sam threw Dean out of the house, then sat on a couch with Jessica and roughly explained to her that he was not the same Sam she had known. When she cried, he didn’t hug her, only offered a pack of tissues.

A few hours after that Jessica packed all the necessary things and got into the first plane out of Stanford.

Sam gave her his cellphone number and told her not to call unless she noticed something supernatural around.

Then he repeated the same process with Brady.

VI.

When Sam and Dean got back to Impala, Dean didn’t even turned on the engine before he commented:

“You didn’t have to do this.”

Sam gritted his teeth and glared at his brother.

“What do you suggest I should have done, then?”, he asked stiffly.

“I don’t know, anything but this?”, shrugged Dean. “Come on, man, you basically tore her heart to pieces. You scared her to death with this… being all murderous and terrifying. Why did you make her watch this?” Dean seriously couldn’t understand why Sam chose this course of action.

“Sure”, admitted Sam grimly. “I could have simply told her that I’m not her Sam anymore. Fine. But even if I had actually explained it to her, she still would have seen me as her boyfriend. I would’ve gotten the ‘we can find a way’ or ‘let’s go through it together’ speech. But I need her to be as far away from me as possible, to be safe, so she had to understand. And no matter what I could have told her, it never would’ve been enough. She had to see that I’m not her Sam. She had to come to this conclusion on her own.”

Dean looked speechless for a moment and just observed Sam’s face, wondering what had gotten into his younger brother so quickly. It was terrifying to see Sam coming up with such plan and executing it immediately with seemingly no hesitation. Dean still wasn’t even able to comprehend the fact that they were in the past, whereas Sam just seemed to momentarily accept the new situation and decided on the best – in his mind – course of action. Which was, apparently, getting Jessica as far away from him as possible.

“Okay, fine, I get it. You want to protect her. But in this reality we have an upper hand over everything that might happen. We know how to fight angels, demons, we know their plans for the Apocalypse.”, argued Dean. “And you always wanted to get out of this, right? An apple-pie life and stuff. The way I see it, it was your shot, man. You had your Jess back, you could protect her… and you just throw it away? Like that?”

Sam pointedly didn’t look in Dean’s direction for a while, so Dean finally decided to start the engine and get on the road. Three minutes later, when Dean already assumed he crossed a line and Sam will not speak to him for the rest of the ride, he heard Sam’s stiff and slightly shaken voice.

“You know what was the first thing I thought when I woke up and saw Jess beside me?”, began Sam and swallowed his saliva self-consciously, looking everywhere except from Dean’s eyes. Finally he focused on his own fingers. “I thought… I thought she was Lucifer.”, whispered Sam and then he raised his eyes. “So… don’t think that I told her all that stuff only because I need her to be safe. No, Dean.” Sam took a deep breath and continued: “I told her that also because I believe it’s true.”

Dean felt terribly uncomfortable for a while, something in Sam’s voice being deeply unsettling. But he wasn’t good in all that chick-flick feeling talks, so after a minute or so he just cleared his throat and said:

“Okay, well. Then I believe we have some planning to do.”

VI.

“First things first. Where did get the knife from?”, began Dean as soon as they ordered coffee and burgers (veggie for Sam) in a nameless diner by the road. He couldn’t help but notice that Sam got out of the car with the messenger back hanging over his shoulder and now he simply passed it to Dean over the table.

“From here. Just look.”, replied Sam. “It’s got everything we need.”

Indeed, thought Dean as he looked at the Ruby’s knife, the Colt, John’s journal, the angel blade, the whole collection of Supernatural books and many other stuff. The most essential things they gathered for the past years – they were all neatly packed in the bag, almost as if a mother prepared it for some school trip.

“Dude…”, muttered Dean.

“Yeah”, admitted Sam. “Whoever sent us, they didn’t leave us unarmed.”

“Where did you get it from?”

“It was on my bed when I woke up.”

“Just like that?” Dean seemed suspicious. Good things didn’t just happen.

“Well, yeah.” Sam shrugged, hesitating for a brief moment. Then he decided to add: “It was Nick’s.”

“The bag?”, clarified Dean.

“He bought it on a Chinese market. Used it when he was going to work. But, obviously, he didn’t keep anything like that in it.”, explained Sam.

“I knew I’d seen it somewhere.” Dean gave the bag back to Sam. “We need to keep it safe.”

“Sure”, replied Sam. “I wonder, though… do you think it’s the Colt from this time, or the Colt from our time?”

Dean shrugged, his mouth full of cheeseburger he just got. “What’s the difference?”

“Well, if it’s from our time, it would mean that right now there are two Colts. And it’s another thing we could use to our advantage in the future.”, observed Sam.

Dean thought about it, swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, it would be useful when Azazel and Meg wanted to trade the Colt for dad’s life.”, remembered Dean suddenly.

“Well, if we stay here, it still may be useful in this situation.”, noticed Sam.

Dean looked up suddenly, bewilderment pained all over his face.

“Do you think it will happen again?”, he asked, surprised. “I mean, what about this… butterfly effect or something? Doesn’t it mean that if we change one thing, everything will change?”

“Maybe?” Sam sighed. “I don’t know. But it’s not easy to mess with the timeline, right? And I think it would be best if we… followed the books.”, suggested Sam.

For a moment, Dean looked at Sam as if he lost his mind.

“You can’t suggest that we just… let stuff happen when we can prevent it!”, he hissed, outraged. “Listen, man, this time I wanna save Bobby and save dad. And Ellen and Jo and Ash… And I don’t care if it’s easy or not – I’m gonna do it!”

“Woa, Dean, I didn’t mean that!”, said Sam in a very defensive tone, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Just listen to me, will you?” Then he waited for Dean to nod, and then Sam continued: “I think that we should read the books and try to more or less follow the script. I’m not saying we shouldn’t save those lives we couldn’t save the last time! I’m just saying… we shouldn’t drift away too much. At least not right away. The longer we stay close to the books, the better we can predict what happens next. Because if we just go after Azazel and Meg right now, then even if we manage to kill them, it will just alert their superiors in Hell. Maybe even Heaven will come to see what happened, because we’re not even supposed to know them yet. It will be a mess and we will lose our best advantage – the knowledge of their plans. So my point is, let’s save people, hunt things and be better hunters than we were last time around. But let’s try not to alert everybody that we know more.”

“So you’re saying… let’s pretend we’re in the dark about the great Apocalypse scheme?”, summed up Dean.

“Exactly. If they think we’re more ignorant that we actually are, we have the upper hand. We can surprise them. We can save dad, save so many more – and they will think it’s just sheer luck on our part.”, explained Sam reasonably.

Dean nodded, finally smiling over the new perspectives. “We can get rid of Meg, Azazel, save dad, prevent your first death… We can stop the Apocalypse from ever happening.”

Sam prayed that Dean didn’t notice the sudden hesitation in his voice when he repeated: “Yes, we can stop the Apocalypse.”

VII.

They didn’t contact John for two reasons; first – they agreed not to change the script too much; second – they didn’t want to reveal too much by finding him sooner than he wanted them to. Sam knew it was hard for Dean to sit tight when he knew dad was alive. But even if he caught Dean with the thousand mile stare once in a while, Dean soon shook it off and kept going. John’s death, even if sudden at the time, was a wound that had somewhat healed over the years. Bobby’s death, however, was a completely different matter.

That’s why they called Bobby, asking him for help on some made-up case, just to have an excuse to talk to him over the phone for a while.

“Don’t worry about John. He’s probably just hunting something.”, consoled them Bobby when they admitted John had been missing for a while.

“Well, he could at least let us help him.”, grumbled Dean, not even having to play that part.

Bobby sighed. “You know John. He’s as stubborn as a donkey. You wanna change his mind? Good luck with that, boy.”

“Yeah, we know. But we don’t have to like it.”, admitted Dean. “Well, take care, Bobby.”

“You too, don’t get yourself killed!”, grumbled Bobby firmly. “And you could call more often!”

“We don’t wanna disturb you…”, began Sam shyly.

“Idjits!”, hissed Bobby.

“Kay, we’ll call you sometime, Bobby”, promised Dean, smiling under his nose as the conversation ended. He noticed Sam had the same expression on his face, wide smile caused by Bobby’s irritated comments.

“You totally said that thing only to make him say it!”, realized Dean suddenly. Sam only widened his sly smile, knowing that Dean needed to hear Bobby’s voice calling them idjits just as much as he did.

VIII.

Since Dean got back from the Purgatory, the relationship between him and Sam was at least strained. Even though what Jesse said made Dean come back to Sam’s house and make sort-of peace with him, it still wasn’t perfect between them. To put it simply, Dean didn’t understand Sam’s relationship with Nick. In Dean’s opinion, it came out of nowhere, it was strange and it put a wedge between him and Sam. Hunters didn’t – and shouldn’t – do relationships. One night stands were fine, but something more? Not in this business.

But Sam was stubborn and Nick wasn’t easily deterred either, so Dean learned to live with that – and with them under one roof. From the very beginning he knew it wouldn’t last long, so he waited. And when shit hit the fan, he just sighed bitterly.

It’s not like he wanted it to happen; he simply predicted it. One thing he learned already is that hunters don’t get their ‘happily ever afters’. In any reality.

Unfortunately, if Dean thought that going back to the past would change their relationship for the better, it soon became apparent that he would be disappointed. At every step, Dean noticed how different Sam was, especially when compared to the twenty-something Sam. The change was even more striking because every time Dean looked at Sam, he saw this young innocent face, bright eyes and wavy hair with a fringe over his eyes, but every time Sam said something, it was so harshly obvious that it’s not the same person anymore. Despite innocent face, his voice lacked innocence and naivety.

And sometimes Dean thought he doesn’t know how to talk to his brother anymore.

Even though they came up with a plan together, even though they worked together again and drove the same car, solved the same cases, it wasn’t like it had been before. Dean knew Sam kept some things to himself, even if it was only his thoughts. There were things Sam wouldn’t talk about no matter how hard Dean tried to get them out of Sam. And it was disturbing, because how was Dean supposed to trust Sam, if Sam wasn’t willing to trust him back?

If Dean wanted to lie to himself that everything between them went back to normal, that it will be similar to what it was the previous time in this situation, fine; but Sam wasn’t willing to play that game. They were in the past for two days when Sam requested that they go to Alliance, Nebraska.

“Our next case won’t be there, Sam”, observed Dean, since they went through the Supernatural series and made appropriate notes in order not to get confused in their past.

“We have one more week till another creature on our list strikes. I want to go to Alliance.”, repeated Sam firmly.

“What the hell do you have to do in Alliance, Sammy?” Dean went through the first two books and was pretty sure there was nothing about this city there.

Sam clenched his teeth. After a moment, he graced Dean with an answer:

“I need to check on Jesse.”

Dean eyed Sam with surprise.

“Dude, he won’t even remember you. He’s fine now, living with his foster parents and stuff.”, argued Dean, not liking this idea very much.

“Dean, the first time we met him, he wanted to go with us, help us and we turned him down. The second time I met him, I promised him I will never do that again. So right now, I don’t care if he remembers me or not – I need to at least make sure he’s alright. And then we can go back to business.”

And Sam’s tone stated clearly that either Dean drives him to Alliance or Sam will get out of Impala and go there by himself. So Dean came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t hurt to go there and let Sam see by himself that Jesse could be safely left in his foster family.

Unfortunately, things didn’t exactly go as Dean planned it.

When they arrived in Alliance, it was around 10 AM so they went straight to Jesse’s house. When they stopped by the road, however, Dean asked:

“So, what are you going to do? You can’t exactly knock on the door and ask, right?”

Sam seemed to realize the same problem and for a moment he thought about it. “Let’s just observe the house for a while”, he suggested finally. “Or we can pose as CPS? Pretend that it’s just a regular check-up?”, he wondered.

“Or we can just follow them and observe?”, said Dean, pointing at small Jesse accompanied by a woman going out of the house.  

Sam immediately focused on Jesse and hissed at Dean when he wanted to say something more.

“Let’s go”, Sam decided when Jesse with his mom began walking away from them.

“Listen”, began Dean when they were following Jesse to a park. “Don’t get riled up but… I don’t know what do you wanna do here, Sam.”, cautiously said Dean. “We don’t have time to check if… I don’t know, they buy him enough toys or his favorite ice-cream. We came here, you see he’s alright, what else you wanna do here?”

But Sam didn’t seem to pay too much attention to Dean’s words, if any at all. Instead, his eyes were focused on a dog that were running towards Jesse, waving its tail excitedly.

“Wait, is that…?” Sam’s breath stuck in his throat when he watched the scene unfolding in front of his eyes.

Then they heard Jesse shout happily: “Riot! Come here!” He opened his arms to greet the dog and scratch it behind its ears. Jesse turned to look at his mom. “See, I told you she will come. Please, can we keep her?” He made the best puppy-eyes that only six-year old children are capable of.

“I would love to, honey” Sam heard the woman say gently. “But you know dad’s allergic. We really can’t do this. Maybe we can get you a turtle? He will be fine then.”

Jesse looked as if he was going to cry any minute. “But I can’t leave her! She’s my friend.”

“We can visit her here, honey. And how do you know she doesn’t have a house of her own? Maybe she just comes here for a walk once in a while, just as we do.”, the woman tried to convince him.

Before Dean realized what was happening, Sam just picked up the pace and shouted:

“Riot, here you are! I looked  for you everywhere!” Riot seemed to immediately recognize his voice and she turned around and speeded in his direction. “I told you not to wander off on your own!”, scolded her Sam, playing the worried owner part, and deciding to improvise the rest.

What was most surprising, though, was that Jesse immediately looked up at him and froze. That wasn’t something Sam expected. Jesses mom didn’t seem to notice.

“I hope she didn’t bother you too much”, began Sam apologetically, gripping Riot by her collar. She didn’t seem to mind, just kept waving her tail in excitement.

“Oh no, she’s wonderful”, assured him Jesse’s mom with a pleasant smile. “But it’s good you came, my son was very worried she has nowhere to go.”, she added.

So in the end, after a moment’s small talk, Sam ended sitting on a bench in the park and looking at Riot running around happily while Jesse played with her. Jesse’s mom sat on another bench and Dean joined Sam on his.

“What the hell, Sam?”, he said when they were out of others’ hearing range. “You’re not taking that dog with us!”

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Come on, Dean. Don’t you recognize her? – it’s Riot. And she obviously remembers me. And Jesse. Doesn’t it strike you as weird?”

“So what, she’s still not riding in my car.”, grumbled Dean. “Also, can we go now?”

“No.”, replied Sam firmly. “Not until I make sure Jesse is fine. He reacted strangely when he saw me.”

Dean huffed. “Come on, Sammy, now that’s just a wishful thinking.”

It wasn’t. And it became obvious as Jesse – when he and his mom were about to leave the park – asked to ‘just say bye to Riot’ and approached their bench, carefully making sure his mom doesn’t cannot hear their conversation from the distance.

“Sam”, he said seriously, which was very peculiar on his six-year old face. “What the hell happened?”

“You know me?”, Sam raised his eyebrows.

“Oh come on, don’t say you don’t know me…”, sighed Jesse in annoyance. “I can’t be the only one who knows that…”

“Calm down, Jesse, I remember”, hastened to inform him Sam, feeling relief welling up in his stomach. “I just didn’t expect that you remember too.”

“I spend the last days completely freaking out.”, admitted Jesse after a moment. He didn’t seem as calm as he usually was. “So what are we going to do?”, he asked.

Dean looked at him grimly. “What do you think, kid? You stay here and enjoy your childhood.”, he said severely.  

Sam looked at Dean with ambiguous expression on his face.

“Hell no.”, reacted Dean immediately. “Don’t even think about it, Sammy!”

Sam turned to Jesse.

“Listen, here’s my phone.”, he said, taking the device out of his pocket. “Call ‘Dean’ later, when you find the time to talk with us safely. We’ll be in town for another couple of days. We’ll figure out what to do next.”, decided Sam, which didn’t sit well with Dean at all.

Jesse just nodded and accepted the phone.

Two days, one pissed Dean and a memory spell later, the four of them (Riot included) sat in Impala, listened to Dean’s cassette tapes and drove off to highway, leaving Alliance behind.

IX.

The atmosphere between Sam and Dean became even more strained when a few weeks later Sam found in the Nick’s bag something he hadn’t noticed before.

“What is it?”, asked Dean when Sam simply put it right in front of him on a table. It was a small vial with dark red liquid in it and as soon as Dean asked that question, he began to suspect the answer.

“I found it in the bag today.”, said Sam simply.

“Whose blood is that?” Dean got right to the point.

Sam sighed and put on the table another thing – a small rolled up piece of paper with a tiny print on it. Dean frowned and unrolled it.

Sam,

Drink it when you start having visions. It’s not addictive, but it will save you much pain. It’s not demon's blood, but mine.

- Lucifer

Dean looked up at Sam, frown deepening on his face.

“Hell no, Sam! Don’t even think about it!”, he growled.

Sam silenced him with one raised eyebrow. “Don’t be ridiculous.”, he replied calmly. “I wasn’t going to drink it.” He looked pissed that Dean even suggested it.

Dean stayed silent for a moment, eyeing Sam from head to toe. Then he sighed and hid his face in his palms for couple of seconds, rubbing his eyes. “Of course you weren’t.”, he acknowledged with a deep sigh. “Sorry.”

After hearing this, Sam finally sat down with Dean at the table.

“Okay.”, he acknowledged the apology. And waited.

“What are you going to do with that?” Dean cut the silence finally.

“Flush it in the toilet, I guess?”, suggested Sam, daring to smile a little.

Dean laughed briefly. “Sounds like a proper place for the Devil’s blood.”, he admitted a bit more light-heartedly than he seemed a moment before.

However, as Sam was standing over the toilet and opening the vial, the feeling of rightness disappeared from his chest and slowly turned into doubt. When Sam was tilting the vial, his hand hesitated and stopped. Sam swallowed, feeling his throat tightening suddenly.

The choice seemed so obvious when he sat with Dean at the table, it was the right thing to do, period. Nothing complicated about that. But as Sam thought about the visions he had – and still will have in this reality – he realized it won’t be fun to go through all that again. Migraines, fainting, visions… It would be nice not to suffer from it again.

Sam shook his head rapidly. What was he even thinking?! Migraines were nothing compared to drinking blood! What would Dean think of him if he even suspected that Sam even for a moment considered this?!

This was stupid.

Sam’s hand finished the move and the blood disappeared in the toilet. The vial ended up in trash. Sam’s short and completely ridiculous moment of doubt was over.

A few days later when Sam was looking for one of the books in the bag, his hand came across something all too familiar. Sam glanced around, making sure Dean wasn’t around, and he tightened his fingers around his discovery. When he took it out of the bag, it turned out he was holding exactly the same vial he had thrown away. Even the attached message stayed the same.

Sam went out and threw the vial onto the nearby brick wall. The glass broke into hundreds of pieces and the blood remained on the wall.

During the next case, however, Sam noticed that the vial once again found its way back to his bag. Untouched, full of blood, with a note.

After three more attempts, Sam just sighed and left it there.

He didn’t mention any of this to Dean.

Chapter Text

 I.

Sam and Dean met John about the same time as before. Even though they wanted to see their father again, they didn't want to mess with the timeline. Keeping on hunting monsters and staying on their track while being aware that John was walking, talking and generally alive -- it wasn't easy to bear. But they gritted their teeth and waited.

Yet when John finally appeared, after just a couple minutes of teary sentimentalities, Sam was painfully reminded that his relationship with their father wasn't always the best. Sam always stayed too independent for John's liking, and since he was now 8 years older, John's underlying disapproval irked Sam more than ever.

At first he was too overjoyed to see John alive to notice, but the charm passed about ten minutes into their first face-to-face conversation, their argument prompted by the fact that Jesse and Riot entered the motel room Sam and Dean had rented for the night.

Dean had just gone out to buy a pizza, so he couldn't act as a buffer when John raised his eyebrow at the newcomers.

"Sam?" asked John, and Sam immediately knew what was coming, because even that one simple word sounded judgmental.

So Sam took a deep breath and focused on staying calm.

"Dad, this is Jesse," Sam began slowly, and Jesse nodded his head politely as he sat on his bed and began untying his shoes. Sam turned to John, wanting to leave Jesse out of it.  "Remember when we told you about the creepy human family, the Benders, who kidnapped people just to release and hunt them later?" Sam was happy to sell John the pre-prepared fairy-tale, because he and Dean unanimously decided not to disclose Jessse's demonic roots. "He was one of the kidnapped ones, but his family was already dead when we found him."

John's eyes hardened. He made a subtle motion with his hand in Sam's direction, willing Sam to follow him out to the porch, away from Jesse's hearing range -- or so John assumed, not knowing Jesse's full scope of abilities. Though, to be honest, Sam wasn't sure about this one himself.

"What are you thinking, Sam?" began John with disbelief in his voice. "This life isn't cut for a kid this young! We're hunters, not nannies!"

Sam gritted his teeth, counting quickly from zero to ten to calm down just a bit. Otherwise he would immediately go into a shouting match, pointing out John's hypocrisy.

"And how old was Dean when you took him on his first hunt, dad?" Sam hissed, his anger clear, but he tried to keep his voice as low as possible. "Jesse's seven now. And Dean once told me he remembers holding a gun when he was about six. So don't you dare using Jesse's age as an argument."

It was naive to hope John would just back off.

"But you have no right to him, son!" John shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. "He may have some distant family left, they may think he's dead too. Don't you think they deserve to know what happened? You might have as well kidnapped this kid!"

Suddenly, the door to the room opened wider and revealed Jesse standing right behind it. Sam and John looked at the boy, frozen.

Jesse looked John right in the eyes, "He did not kidnap me," he said, calm as he always was. "I asked Sam to take me with him. I have no one else."

John was clearly taken aback both by Jesse's interruption and the decisiveness in his voice. But then he kneeled on one knee to get to Jesse's eye level and he said, actually trying to sound gentle:

"This life is dangerous, it will get you killed. You probably don't even really understand what that means yet," began John and now Sam also noticed the vibe of condescension, which, as he knew, wouldn't be appreciated by Jesse. "You will be safer anywhere but here."

Jesse still looked at John calmly, not backing off even a millimeter.

"I saw my family being torn apart, literally. So I guess I understand death better than most adults on the planet," replied Jesse, his words clear and simple.

Sam inwardly approved of the kid's improvisation skills. Though Jesse wasn't his son, Sam allowed himself to feel like a proud parent anyway.

John stood back and faced Sam again.

"He's not going to stay with you," decided John firmly, in a voice that clearly meant the end of the discussion.

It wasn't going to work, though.

Jesse immediately looked at Sam, a tiny bit of fear appearing in his eyes for the first time during this conversation. That made Sam's glare harden as he answered John:

"This is not your decision to make." He kept his voice firm and steady, but he noticed the fingers of his hands clenched themselves when he wasn't paying attention.

"I will not allow this kid to stay with us!" yelled John, finally raising his voice.

Sam straightened his back, purposefully towering over John.

"He's not staying with us, he's staying with me. And as I said, this is not your decision to make," repeated Sam even stronger. "I don't care if you have a problem with that. Jesse is staying, dad."

And as he said that, Sam crossed the threshold and closed the door, leaving John on the porch outside.

As soon as he came back with pizza, Dean realized what had happened. He grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him onto the porch. Sam almost rolled his eyes, because seriously, was this spot especially atmospheric for serious conversations or what?

"Dude, you just had to do it, right?!" Dean was simply pissed off.

"It wasn't like I started it!" defended himself Sam, shrugging.

"We meet dad for the first time in years, I'm gone for like fifteen minutes and you end up having a shouting match with him! Come on! I thought you grew out of this!"

Sam swallowed the first three nasty responses that came to his mind and said:

"It was about Jesse, Dean!"

And that actually shut Dean up for a second.

"...what about him?" he asked.

Sam let out a breath, feeling the tension fly out of him.

"Dad wants him gone," he explained. "I mean, he said we're hunters, not nannies, that kind of thing. He wants me to drop Jesse... somewhere, you know, his relatives, an orphanage, he didn't really care which. I said, hell no. And the rest is history."

Dean cleared his throat, a bit awkwardly.

"Well, we could have expected that," he admitted. "Dad will come around," he added, but didn't sound especially convinced.

"Yeah, I won't give him any other choice," said Sam with determination. Then he glanced worriedly at his brother. "But I need to know, Dean... Are you with me on this?" he asked. All readiness to fight was gone from him, leaving just a splash of tentative hope.

Dean stayed silent for a while.

"What do you mean?" he grumbled after a moment.

Sam sighed.

"I mean, if dad tried to do something about Jesse... you know, behind my back... Would you stop him?"

Sam listened to Dean's breath for a moment, waiting in patience.

"Why would you even ask?" asked Dean finally, shoulders slumped.

"Well, you weren't exactly... in favor of my decision," reminded him Sam, but tried to be gentle about it.

"Yeah, I wasn't," huffed Dean. "But he's been with us for a few months now and he isn't a burden while we hunt. He's a good researcher, he's quiet, walks the dog three times a day and stays put when we tell him to. I was skeptical before, but--" Dean cut himself off, cleared his throat and amended quickly, "don't read me wrong, I still think he would be better off with a family and all that but-- if that's off the table, then this option isn't the worst either."

Sam sighed with relief.

"So you'll have my back?" He had to be sure, he had to hear Dean say it.

"Yeah, Sammy." Dean shook his head with exasperation, but there was a smile on his lips. "Come on, I'll always have your back."

That line made Sam smile as well, and wider than he was comfortable admitting.

"Thanks, Dean," he said and he meant it.

II.

Dean was torn. Sam's reasoning, as always, was hard for him to understand – but he was trying. But on the other hand, every time they met with John on the road, Sam and dad were going back to their everlasting arguments over every single goddamn thing. John had his suspicions concerning Jesse, while Sam was stubborn and kept dragging Jesse to all their hunts – which actually proved quite helpful, since Jesse was growing to become one hell of a researcher. But of course, taking into consideration Jesse's... well, unusual lineage, it was hard not to appreciate John's intuition. Dean would be suspicious himself, had he not seen with his own eyes that Jesse was not interested in becoming the monster of the week. Or the monster of the year. The boy was actually more focused on keeping up with his education than on anything else – even the idea of harmless pranks was still beyond him, despite Dean's attempts.

Sometimes Dean thought about telling John all about the future, especially when he and Sam observed his vain attempts to uncover the Azazel's plan. It would be nice to have yet another ally that could help them plan their next moves in the grand scheme – right now it was just them and Jesse.

But every time Dean tried to prompt John to tell them about the demon blood in Sam, John kept quiet. No matter how many openings did Dean give him, John did almost the same thing – he glanced at Dean, then briefly at Sam, then smoothly changed the topic.

"Somehow... I don't want to tell him before he decides to trust us first," admitted Dean one evening when there was just the two of them. They were sitting on a porch in front of yet another random motel. Sam was browsing the Supernatural books, and Dean just looked into the stars once in a while and slowly sipped his cheap beer.

"But he won't, not until he's dying," muttered Sam with utmost confidence. "And we'll stop that from happening this time, so... Yeah." He shrugged and waved his hand vaguely.

"I don't get it." Dean sighed in frustration. "Last time he was already dead by now," he pointed out, his voice cracking only slightly. "And now we've dealt with Meg and Azazel again, they left us alone for now. We did this whole family reunion thing, John realized we are stronger together, not weaker, yadda yadda yadda and so on and so forth. This was the time when he told me, back then. What keeps him from trusting me now?", wondered Dean.

"Many things, I guess," sighed Sam, absent-mindedly scanning the second Supernatural book. "There is nothing forcing him to trust you now, that is one thing. Last time he was dying, so he had a choice between trusting you or keeping quiet forever.

"Another thing is that... you keep him more at distance this time. You're less emotional, more in control of what you do – you simply grew up, but for him it was probably a strange and sudden transition. Also, you are not his little soldier anymore. You follow his orders, yes, but I think he can sense that you would defy him in an instant if you thought it necessary... and so far such situation simply hasn't happened. But I think he can feel the 'yet' here. And... there is also the fact that... the balance is all wrong this time."

Sam looked up at Dean, sending him a grim smile.

"The balance?"

"Well, previously when I argued with dad, you were somewhere in between. You saw my reasons and his reasons and tried to act as a buffer. And now you sort of try to do the same but-- I think that, while you may not agree with me on all instances, you understand my reasons way better than before... and way better than his.

"In general, we've spent more years hunting together, without dad, than you spent with him before. Also, you lived through the future. You survived some of the things dad fears the most and you probably see many things differently because of it," observed Sam casually, drinking his beer as if he was talking about the weather.

"You mean... the Apocalypse," guessed Dean slowly. He glanced at Sam raising his eyebrows, prompting him to elaborate. "What, do you think it will change?"

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong," began Sam slowly, as if being slightly afraid of where this conversation might end. "But... dad once told you that I may wander off the 'right' track, that I may become a monster. He told you that, if it comes to it, you might have to kill me, if you are not able to save me...

"So, let's be clear on this – dad will kill me if by doing so he stops the Apocalypse. Because the Apocalypse is the worst thing the can think of. Now, tell me Dean. You've lived it. You know dad's predictions are right – you saw me become that monster. You saw me suck blood like a vampire. You witnessed firsthand how I started the Apocalypse. You know it's not just some fake-medium bullshit. It's real."

Sam took a deep breath. "So tell me. Had you had that knowledge before, would you have killed me?"

Dean's mind was blank for a moment.

"But you're not the same Sam!" He followed his first instinct, to protest. In his gut, he felt sick. "The situation is different, even if John doesn't know it. You're older, you've lived through your mistakes, it won't happen again, so what's the point of asking me such questions?!"

Dean felt uneasy at sheer mention of the monster version of his brother. These memories unsettled him, or that's what he wanted to believe -- that it was the memories that made him twitchy, and not the very present-day look in his brother eyes.

"Yeah, it won't," said Sam after a moment that was just a tiny bit too long. "But dad doesn't know that."

III.

Many things were slightly or even completely different this time around, but Sarah Blake was still interested in Sam, which for Dean sounded like a wonderful opportunity.

"Go for it, Sammy," he encouraged his brother as soon as they left the art gallery, grinning for the first time in the last couple of days. "Have some fun with this girl, get laid, chill out. You deserve it."

"Don't really feel like it." Sam's entire posture went stiff as he willed Dean to drop the topic. But Dean was either too dense to notice or too stubborn to back off, so he pressed:

"Why not?" Dean glanced at his brother, looking for some answers in his expression. "You liked her the last time just fine. And right now it seemed that you liked her again."

Sam sighed, avoiding Dean's eyes.

"Yeah, I did." He shrugged. "That's not the point here."

"So tell me what is?" Dean wouldn't give up.

He suspected for a while that Sam kept something to himself, and it made Dean's spider sense tingle. Sometimes while he was reading a book or researching, Sam would just freeze with his eyes still on the page, but with his stare unfocused and unseeing. Completely lost in his inner world, with a thousand yard stare -- seeing Sam like this made Dean anxious. But then Sam would just blink and force himself back to reality, with no comment at all. Dean was afraid to ask, but still wondered: what was Sam thinking about in those moments?

Sam sighed again, feeling defeated, and he leaned back onto the closest wall, glancing at Dean with hesitation. He never wanted to keep secrets from Dean, it's just wasn't all that easy to share. Especially when he couldn't even put it into the right words even in his own mind. But he was willing to try and be honest about it, since Dean openly asked. Sam had a feeling, though, that Dean wouldn't like his answer.

"Well," began Sam, trying to make his voice sound lighter than he really felt. "I'm not exactly single right now, am I?"

Dean froze, as if shot by a lightning. His eyes widened and mouth hung slightly open as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"You gotta be kidding me, Sammy!" he hissed finally, when the first wave of complete and overwhelming surprise flew away. But he was still at loss for words. "I can't believe you're still..." He closed his mouth and shook his head. "Come on, man! By now you have to realize what the truth is, Sam."

Sam folded his arms, looking at Dean with grim seriousness. For some time now he had expected that this conversation was coming, he knew it couldn't be avoided, but still, it didn't mean he had to like it. Sam realized it was going to be bad, especially since now he had to enlighten Dean on some facts he actually preferred not to admit even to himself.

"What truth, Dean?" he asked, though he knew what answer to expect.

Dean looked like a bundle of discomfort. He couldn't believe he had to spell it out for Sam.

"Don't you think there is only one reasonable explanation for... you know, the angel wings, and why they went to Nick?" Dean said with a tight throat.

Sam just gritted his teeth, but stayed silent, forcing Dean to continue.

"Listen, I know it seems to fucked up to even consider, but-- I have no idea what happened, maybe he actually lost his memories, or maybe he was just lying, but-- do you really believe it was Nick? Just Nick?" prompted Dean, forcing the words through his throat. He didn't want to hurt his brother with this revelation, but he didn't want him to live in fake hope either.

"No." Sam said it in such a simple way. As if it was obvious all along.

"Sam?" asked Dean, completely at loss.

"What do you expect me to do now?" asked Sam after a moment, careful to keep his emotions in check.

Dean opened his mouth, and then closed it.

"I... don't know?" he mumbled. "Forget about him? Move on?"

Dean hated not knowing where he stands with his brother. Was Sam angry? Disappointed? Dean couldn't get a read on him and that made him uneasy. Why wasn't Sam more shaken?

"Nah." Sam shrugged, just like that. As if they were talking about breakfast choices. "I can't really do that."

"What? Why not?" Dean head his own voice break a bit at the end.

"Because..." Sam hesitated for a second. Then cleared his throat and sighed: "That doesn't really change anything."

"Are you insane?!" Dean just couldn't believe his own ears. "It changes everything!" How could Sam be so blind?! "You tried living an apple-pie life with the devil, Sam!"

Sam gritted his teeth, finally losing his cool.

"Don't you think I know it?!" He raised his voice, hissing. His jaw was tense, his hands tightened. "What did you think, that you'll surprise me with the news? Well, let me tell you something too, Dean!"

Sam paused, took a deep breath and looked Dean straight in the eyes, so that his brother could feel how serious he was.

"I suspected Nick was Lucifer right from the start."

Dean opened his mouth, but Sam cut him off, almost kicking the car door out as he stormed out.

"No, save the speech. I don't wanna hear it. Because no matter if you like it or not, I did live an apple-pie live with the devil, and it worked."

Sam slammed the precious Impala door and went to get himself something to drink. Something stronger than beer.

Sam really shouldn't have been surprised when Jesse found him not even half an hour after his argument with Dean. Jesse didn't have his powers fully developed yet, they were barely there at all, but the kid still knew how to follow his guts. And ever since he had started hunting, this sixth sense got even sharper. But Sam still found himself raising his eyebrows when Jesse slid onto a bar stool next to him, looking like he had every right to be there, despite looking like a seven year old.

Sam was impressed that Jesse managed to even enter the bar in the first place, though he already knew Jesse could be really sneaky when he wanted to. He just usually didn't need that ability, so it popped out more when he then used it like a pro.

Once a hunter, always a hunter, thought Sam grimly, even though he knew Jesse actually took to the lifestyle like fish to water and seemed oddly happy with it. Sam wouldn't agree to keep bringing him on hunts otherwise.

Jesse still stayed on the research side though -- Sam had to draw the line somewhere and giving kid a gun or machete crossed it like hell. But Sam had to admit that, if needed, Jesse really knew how to handle a baseball bat, which was a skill Sam consciously never asked about. Also, Riot proved to be a mean bodyguard and Sam was pretty sure she could give Crowley's hellhounds a run for their money -- not that he was willing to check it.

"I heard you and Dean," started Jesse without preamble, blinking at Sam with those calm eyes that didn't seem like they belonged to a child at all.

It was freaky, but at this point Sam ate freaky for breakfast. Dean had his quirks too and it didn't make him any less of a family.

"Sorry," said Sam, hunching his shoulders because no child should be forced to endure listening to Winchester family fights.

"It's alright." Jesse nodded his head seriously, then tilted his head to the side, wondering. "But I wanted to talk to you about it."

Sam wasn't sure what else there was to talk about, since Jesse probably heard it all, but he said:

"Sure."

And he put down the glass of whiskey he was nursing, because a bar or not, Jesse didn't need to see him drink. By no means was Sam a teetotaler, but he got a weird guilt-shaped feeling every time any form of alcohol appeared around Jesse. And since Jesse in his childhood -- as far as Sam was aware -- didn't see anybody abusing alcohol as to make Sam so careful about it, Sam had to look for reasons in his own childhood. And that was something he desperately tried not to do, since he didn't need any more reasons to argue with John. He found plenty on a daily basis, he didn't have to add more by looking back and reliving the past.

"What did Dean mean by 'moving on'?" asked Jesse.

That's why Sam both loved and dreaded conversations with him at the same time. Jesse never beat about the bush, always moved straight to the point, often in the way that tripped people up, froze them for a moment and made them blink for a while, trying to find some sense in the chaos of their thoughts, which was usually caused by the promptness of Jesse's question.

Jesse, thought Sam, might turn to be a great investigator one day, because he's already knew the art of interrogation backward and forward. Sam had to stifle the desire to gulp.

"Well, it was about moving on with my life," he began carefully.

"You mean, from Nick?," asked Jesse and Sam exhaled loudly, nodding.

"Yeah, or you know, from Lucifer." Sam shrugged, but it wasn't a very convincing gesture.

Jesse blinked at him again, and Sam already felt what was coming.

"Do you want to move on from Lucifer?," he asked, which was precisely what Sam tried to avoid asking himself for days.

And of course Jesse wouldn't even blink at the news about Lucifer.

Screw it, Sam thought and took a large sip of whiskey. Jesse quirked his eyebrow and Sam had the weirdest feeling of doubt -- who was here raising whom, again?

He sighed deeply, slumping his shoulders.

"I should be moving on from Lucifer," he said, even though it wasn't an answer and he knew it.

Jesse grinned at him.

"Well, I should be going to elementary school, but I don't, because it's boring and it doesn't have what I need."

That little shit. Sam almost choked.

"Jesse, I am not, and I will  never be drunk enough to discuss my needs with you." Sam raised his finger seriously and pointed it at Jesse's nose in a fake-threatening way. "Also, adults sometimes have to be a bit boring."

Jesse looked not-convinced.

"Yeah, but do they have to be unhappy?" he asked in such an obviously rhetorical way that Sam just rolled his eyes at him.

"Go back to Dean, Jesse," he said, and Jesse complied, just like that, as if finishing this conversation this way was his plan all along.

"Come, Riot," called Jesse and the dog stood up from the floor and followed him. Sam hadn't noticed Riot before, so he blinked.

Sam closed his mouth after a moment, because he was starting to look stupid.

"You brought a dog in here too?" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head, and there was only one thing he could do to manage those levels of incredulity.

He raised his glass and let his throat burn a bit more.

IV.

A couple days later they met Trickster for the first time. They were still mostly pissed at each other and engrossed elbows deep in not talking about it. But when the Trickster tried to use their argument against each other, they snapped out of it and realized what was happening.

They still did not talk about it, but they were brilliant at compartmentalizing.

So they played the game consciously this time and Dean even let himself enjoy the conjured girls a bit more. But then the playtime stopped with a snap of Trickster's fingers, way before it should have.

"No, boys." The Trickster emerged from behind the scene, frowning. Suspicion was a dangerous look on him, especially since they knew what exactly they were up against. "There is something really wrong about the two of you."

And it stopped them dead in their tracks, because they hadn't discussed the option of Gabriel noticing anything. So they needed to improvise.

"Well, you're not the first to say so," replied Dean, all smug and cocky, trying to play oblivious.

Sam already felt it wasn't going to cut it. As he predicted, Trickster did not dismiss his gut feelings so easily.

"No, no, no." He waved his finger at them, in this theatrically dramatic sort of way. "There's something fishy about you two, Winchesters. How about you spill now, out of free will, and I won't use my personal favorites to make you?" he said, his fun and games tone halting immediately.

The threat of real danger tangled under Sam's skin, but it wasn't a new feeling. He learned to thrive in the creepy ambiance, so he forced himself to relax his shoulders, held Trickster's gaze and went all in.

"Well, I've always known that angels have a crooked understanding of free will," he said conversationally, not letting Gabriel out of his eyesight. "And I thought that you would be the one to step out of the line in this particular regard... Gabriel."

Before he could finish saying the name, Gabriel had him pressed him to the wall, with an angel blade nicking the base of his throat just ever so slightly to draw a drop of blood.

"Who the fuck are you and how do you know?" he hissed and flicked his other hand backwards to flip Dean onto the wall, because he was already trying to save Sam.

Sam swallowed slowly and inhaled Gabriel's breath, as if it wasn't intimidating at all.

"There was a glitch in the timeline," he explained, trying to convey the most information in the fewest number of words, since every breath was pushing him a bit onto the blade. "We've met you before during the Apocalypse."

"There was no--" started Gabriel, but then blinked and corrected himself when Sam's words really hit home. '"When was the Apocalypse?"

"About three years from now," said Sam.

"Shit," said Gabriel and blinked a few more times. He lowered the blade, but then suddenly pressed it again. "Why should I trust you on this?!"

"You died for us back then," said Sam.

"Bullshit!"

Sam cleared his throat.

"And your goodbye letter was in a form of a porno movie 'Casa Erotica', which had a final clue to defeating Lucifer."

Gabriel's eyebrow twitched.

"More plausible," he admitted, but then frowned again. "What the hell do you mean 'defeating Lucifer'? Goddamn it, you morons let him out of the cage?"

He finally lowered the blade to his hips and took a step back to let Sam talk more. He still kept him near the wall. Sam had a feeling Gabriel just enjoyed it at this point.

In the meantime, Dean got up and approached them, a bit calmer now that Sam appeared unhurt.

"Don't act like it wasn't all the part of Heaven's plan," reminded him Sam dryly.

Gabriel didn't even try to act sheepish.

"Well, it's not like you were ever supposed to know about it." He shrugged. "And for the record, I wasn't a fan of that plan. It sucked."

"Yeah, we know, that's why you helped us in the end," said Dean. "You died all honor-y death and everything."

Gabriel looked as if he just ate a lemon.

"Geez, that does not sound like me at all."

Sam had the guts to wiggle his eyebrows at him.

"Sorry, but we can't always have what we want," he said smugly. "But hey, we can change that, you can die in a dirty back alley of a casino this time."

Gabriel glanced at him and then turned to Dean.

"See," he pointed at Sam, while talking to Dean, "that's what makes me believe you actually have met me. Go on, Sasquatch."

"No, I'm actually done." Sam shrugged. "I don't know what else to say, we never planned on telling you how much we know."

"What year you're from?" Gabriel glanced at the both of them, former antagonism forgotten.

"We lived till 2012," explained Dean.

"Wait, so you've lived through the Apocalypse? No shit?" The archangel looked between them back and forth.

"Yup," replied Dean with a grin. "Been there, done that, got the T-shirt."

Sam rolled his eyes at the description, because no, apparently, his brother was not growing up, ever.

"So what are you going for this time?" asked Gabriel finally, because he decided he did not care for the details in the slightest.

"We're gonna stop it, obviously. Keep Lucifer in the cage, not trust the angels that are manipulative bastards, not break the seals, you know. Everyday stuff." Dean shrugged.

Sam nodded, but he caught Gabriel scanning his expression intently and he immediately knew the angel was not fooled by his act.

"Yeah, obviously," repeated Gabriel slowly, his eyes not leaving Sam's face. Sam held the gaze, unflinching.

Whatever he saw in Sam's face, he decided to leave it unmentioned, because he continued:

"I hope you don't expect me to help you with all that?" He raised his eyebrow.

Sam smiled at him shortly.

"Hell no," he replied. "We expect you to sit on your ass, far away from the mess, and to observe everything from the sidelines."

Gabriel gave him a wide smile and patted him on the shoulder.

"Wonderful. Seems like you've really known me." He snapped his fingers and disappeared, and his voice surrounded them when he was gone, saying:

"Good luck, munchkins."

V.

It was no longer than a few weeks later when Sam woke up with a scream and saw Jesse staring into his face. Sam's throat hurt, his chest moved up and down and his palms were sweaty.

"I woke you?," he asked quietly, apologetic, looking up at the boy. Jesse nodded simply.

"You were screaming," he said. "What happened?"

Sam took a couple deeper breaths, trying to calm himself down. The dream itself hadn't scared him, at least not now, when he recalled what he was dealing with. But while he was dreaming it, the emotions felt real and it showed in his body's reactions.

"Remember when I told you, a couple years ago, when we met for the first time, that I--" Sam hid his face in his palms, sighing.

"That you could do something too," remembered Jesse. "Is that is? It's back?"

Sam licked his dry lips, finally gathering the strength to sit up on the bed.

"Yeah, I guess so." Sam combed his hair, felt that it's sticky, and frowned. "I expected that it will appear again, but still."

"It's not nice," guessed Jesse.

"It's not nice," admitted Sam, thankful for simplicity.

Jesse thought about it for a moment, then got onto Sam's bed, sitting next to him on the covers.

"What kind of powers do you have?" he asked, interested. It surprised Sam for some reason. He never talked about those abilities much, and when he did, he considered it a hindrance, something to get rid of. Something that made him question his humanity, and therefore something he wanted to get out of his thoughts as quickly as possible. But now Jesse was simply curious and Sam found himself strangely open to the idea of satisfying that curiosity.

He crossed his legs Indian style, sitting just like Jesse but taking way more space, and said:

"Well, now I had a vision about a future," he started. "And I think I'll have many more of those. But at some point I will probably be able to move things with my mind, and I'll be a bit immune to demon powers, if I remember correctly," said Sam, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought about his future-past.

"Cool," summed up Jesse, even though his own abilities surpassed Sam's tenfold. But he still looked enthusiastic for Sam's sake, which made Sam a bit uneasy.

"I tried to suppress them," he mentioned to calm Jesse down. "So I never really tried to use them willingly."

Maybe Jesse's attitude stemmed from the fact that his own abilities were rather dormant at this point. Sam realized Lucifer's rising really woke them up the last time. He wondered if Jesse would grow into the abilities again this time. Jesse's life would be probably easier if he didn't, but Sam wasn't holding his breath.

"I understand." Jesse nodded his head, looking deep in thoughts. He then raised his eyes at Sam. "But what about now?"

Sam knew exactly what Jesse was aiming for.

"I haven't thought about it yet," he admitted honestly. "I don't think Dean would be happy if I tried to develop those abilities."

Jesse made a humming sound.

"Do you think those abilities make you a monster?" he asked, and Sam realized immediately what it was really about.

He told Jesse many times that he didn't care about his powers and he meant it, but that was a different case. Jesse experienced hatred too many times, questioned his own humanity and morals while being way younger than Sam, and it left much bigger impact on him. Which is not to say that Sam had it easy.

He noticed the shred of doubt in Jesse's eyes and noticed the challenge that was posed. And he wasn't going to throw away months of convincing the kid that he wasn't a monster.

Sam couldn't act like a hypocrite. If Jesse wasn't a monster -- and he honestly believed that -- then he couldn't allow himself to doubt his own humanity either.

So he answered:

"No, I don't," and he felt like he believed it. "Maybe I could try to get something out of them," he added, after a few seconds of deliberations.

Jesse's face light up in a rare wide smile, which meant Sam made a good choice.

"Maybe we can train together?," asked Jesse trying to conceal how excited he felt, but failing at it miserably. It made Sam smile too, because he hardly ever saw Jesse so openly happy these days.

"Sure we can," he promised and knew Jesse was already blocking time slots in his mental calendar. Sure, Dean wasn't going to be happy about it, but since Jesse was, then Sam was willing to make that trade.

It was always easier to change Dean's mind than to make the kid smile.

VI.

Sam should have expected that his good luck with the powers wasn't going to last, so of course when he and Jesse went training for the first time, it was also the time John picked for a surprise joint hunting offer.

And of course he freaked out when he saw his son playing telekinesis with Jesse. Thank God he only  saw Sam using it, because Jesse-being-an-antichrist was this tiny piece of information he and Dean intentionally kept forgetting to mention. John did not need more ammunition for his protests against Jesse's presence, and even Dean wasn't opposed to keeping his mouth shut about that.

"Sam, explain it!" ordered John, making Sam flinch and drop the bottle of water he was using to remotely fill in the glass. It fell to the floor, rolled across it and stopped at John's shoes. Sam noticed Jesse immediately took a step right, getting behind Sam's back, as if taking shelter. 

Sam made a split second decision to play stupid.

"It started a couple days ago," he started explaining, just as John told him to. "I had this dream, super realistic, about a guy who died. And then I started looking and found out that he actually exists and I haven't just dreamt it up. So we went to investigate, but we were too late. But still, I saw what was going to happen before it happened, dad."

"And you didn't think to call me?!" John looked angry, but also worried, so Sam decided to give him a bit of a leeway.

"I don't understand it, dad," he admitted, hanging his head. He was careful to keep Jesse behind him though, just in case. "It scares me."

The anger seemed to dissolve from John's expression, but he frowned. And then he looked as if somebody light a lightbulb over his head.

"What, do you have any idea what's going on with me?" asked Sam immediately, trying to sound hopeful.

He knew he should feel guilty about hiding so many things from John. But the only thing Sam felt guilty about was not feeling guilty at all. Situations like this one only reinforced him in his decision, because John blinked, shook his head and replied:

"No. But we need to try and find an explanation. This cannot continue, this is not normal, Sam, you must realize that."

And Sam realized many things, including the fact that at this point John's suspicions surely pointed towards demon's blood in Sam's system. And he apparently did not see it fit to share those suspicions with the most concerned party -- Sam himself.

So felt literally no remorse when he hunched his shoulders and lied:

"Yes, sir, I know. I won't try to use them again."

VII.

Dean waited until after the joint hunt with John to raise the topic, which Sam appreciated. They were on their way back to the motel when Dean cleared his throat, his discomfort loud and clear.

"Dad mentioned I need to watch out for your... abilities," he began slowly, trying to sound casual and not unnerved. Sam loved his brother very much for trying, but of course read him like an open book.

"Yeah, we've had a... slight disagreement," said Sam, looking out of the window of Impala, absent-mindedly eyeing the roadside passing by.

Dean glanced at Sam in surprise.

"Dad didn't mention you two fighting."

Sam cleared his throat as well. While he had no problems in lying to their dad, he drew the line at lying to Dean.

"Well, he might have not been made aware that I don't agree...," he admitted, even though he sensed the argument coming.

"Sam!" Dean actually rolled his eyes at his brother. "We should have talked about it before." Dean sighed and massaged his temples in exasperation. "But-- I mean, you're not serious about... actually  developing these abilities, are you?" Dean couldn't believe he had to even ask this question. 

Sam looked him in the eye, more confident than ever.

"I am," he said. "Dean, those abilities scared me before."

"And they don't scare you now?!" Dean sure as hell sounded like they scared him.

"They don't," replied Sam simply, because he was starting to learn from Jesse that simplicity was the best policy. "I know now where they're coming from. And the source may be questionable, but I know those abilities, and they are not inherently bad. I can do good things with them."

"Yeah, like you did good things after drinking Ruby's blood?" hissed Dean.

Sam wanted to punch him in the face for it, and made sure his glare conveyed this desire.

"Dean!" he warned. "It's not the same and you know it!" he growled. He wasn't defending his choices, he was stating a fact. "I'm not drinking any blood and I have no desire to start, but if you feel the need to question that, well then, maybe we should have talked about many other things before as well!"

Sam was boiling, because fights with dad -- that he expected. But Dean doubting him again, as if he forgot they weren't in fact re-enacting the past, that they were different people now, that they learned from their mistakes... That just wouldn't do.

"How do you expect me not to question it, Sam?" said Dean quietly. "I thought what happened in the past was behind us, I thought we learned, but did we really?" He looked at Sam with a frown. "You had all the opportunities to start anew, Jessica, Sarah, and you threw all of them away! And for what? The idea of Nick? Lucifer? You can't let go of the devil, Sam?" His words weren't intended to hurt, they were just dry, emotionless. "If so, then maybe you won't be able to let go of demon blood now as well, huh?"

Sam felt thunderstruck.

"You're kidding, right?" Sam's lips were dry and his voice disbelieving. "You compare Ruby to...?" He was at loss for words. "Don't you honestly see how different it was?"

"Different how? It's Lucifer, Sam!" Dean waved his hands in the air. "Ruby wanted to start the Apocalypse, Lucifer wanted to start the Apocalypse. Ruby was evil and Lucifer was evil, period! I don't see that much of a difference! They both even managed to get into your bed!"

Sam held himself back from actually hitting Dean, but that was where his patience ended.

"Stop the car, Dean," he ordered, despite his tight throat. He couldn't even look at his brother right now, and he couldn't stand to be in his presence any longer.

Dean hunched his shoulders, sensing that he crossed the line. But that was way too late. He doesn't realize how far behind that line he has gone, thought Sam, clenching his jaw.

"Look, Sam, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"Stop the fucking car, Dean!" yelled Sam, crisp and clear.

He got out as soon as Dean pulled over, deaf for all Dean's protests.

"Sam, wait!" Dean got out after him. "Don't--"

Sam turned to him suddenly, cutting him off with a stiff wave of hand.

"You know what," Sam started, more hissing the words than actually speaking them. "When I talked to dad, I wondered when he was going to tell us about Azazel, about me and demon blood. I thought, hey, he sees me using telekinesis, maybe that's the moment," continued Sam and Dean shut up completely, listening to him carefully, wondering where he was going with this, but not liking Sam's grim expression in the slightest.

"And I knew he made that connection to Azazel, maybe he even knows something about the chosen children right now." Sam shook his head, huffing. "But he never said a word; he let me stew in oblivion. And I started thinking, why did he do it? Why did he choose to keep it to himself even now?" Sam took a deep breath, his face full of distaste.

"And then I realized. But of course, it's because he doesn't trust me, Dean." Sam let out a dry laugh. "You didn't get the 'save Sam or kill him' speech again, did you?" Sam wasn't really asking. "That's because he isn't dying, so he still considers it a job for himself. So, Dean, just sit on it for a while." Sam paused.

"At this very moment, our dad is probably busy thinking 'Do I need to kill my son? Do I need to kill Sam?'," Sam's voice was somber, but with a mocking undertone. "And I've known about it, I heard it from you, I read about it in the books, but Dean, seeing this hesitation on his face with my own eyes, God, it hurts, Dean." Sam shook his head, swallowing down the pain and disappointment. "But at least I thought I had you on my side--"

"You do, Sam, but goddamn it!" stopped him Dean, frantic. "You choose to train your powers, you keep talking about Lucifer! What the hell I am supposed to think?!"

Sam huffed, a small sad smile curling in the corners of his lips.

"I'm taking Jesse," he decided, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Go hunt with dad, take your time, think about it." He shrugged. "I stand by my choices, Dean, and I'm not gonna defend them to you, to politely beg for your understanding. No, Dean. You have to decide for yourself." Sam looked him right in the eyes.

"Do you think I've changed enough? Or maybe this time I'm just hiding my darkness better? Do you think I'm one of the good guys? Or maybe... I'm just another monster?" Sam had the guts to actually laugh grimly after the last sentence. He still couldn't believe he needed to have that conversation with Dean, but if he had to, he wasn't going to hide his true feelings. Dean had to make an informed, final choice, and Sam wasn't going to hide his darker side to make it any easier for him.

"Just remember," added Sam over his shoulder, slowly turning away from Impala. "If I really am a monster, then I'm the most dangerous of them all."

Chapter Text

I.

Sam woke up with an unyielding certainty that he was going to die. Soon. That thought should have left him shaken, but he felt calm instead. When he opened his eyes after yet another prophetic dream, the awareness of a looming death covered him like a blanket. He took a deep breath and let himself stew in this horrifying coziness.

Jesse was sleeping on the other side of the room. Sam listened to his breath, calm and deep, and realized the kid was going to be left completely alone again. Sam's chest constricted, but then he thought about Dean. Despite their differences, however grave they were, Dean wasn't likely to abandon Jesse after Sam's death. Dean got really attached to the kid, even if he enjoyed pretending otherwise. And Jesse was fond of Dean as well, even if those two operated on completely different wavelengths.

Sam sat on the bed, shaking the covers to the side of it. The floor under his bare feet was cold, but he was oddly comfortable with the feeling. Sam usually slept in his sweatpants and a T-shirt, and that was his only clothing when he faced the cool air outside the motel. Closing the door behind himself, Sam crossed the narrow porch and propped himself on the railing. It was dawning and the sight of sun slowly rising above the horizon put Sam in a pensive mood.

He reached under his T-shirt and fished out a thin silver chain with the engagement ring swinging on it. He rarely dared to look at it when Dean was around. But now, around Jesse, he had nothing to hide, so he gave himself a bit of leeway about succumbing to sentimentalities. Sometimes it seemed like it was yesterday, but in fact it had been almost three years since Nick had asked the question. And Sam said yes. Sam wondered how many times he said "yes" to Lucifer by this point in his life.

Sam had to make many tough choices in his life. But, surprisingly or not, he never considered his engagement with Nick to be one of them. Quite the contrary. Even now, when he couldn't avoid the reality any longer — the fact that Nick wasn't Nick at all — Sam still couldn't bring himself to regret that choice.

The logical part of his brain whispered that he should be disgusted with himself, horrified at the sheer thought of how close he came to binding himself with the devil. And yet, the wave of self-hatred simply wasn't coming. How messed up it was to miss the devil so much, wondered Sam, that he would risk coming down with pneumonia only to feel the familiar chill on his skin.

When the tips of his fingers on the railing started to feel numb and his lips turned more blue than it was healthy, Sam let out a deep sigh and turned back to the warmth of the motel room. And if Jesse, now sitting on his bed awake, noticed anything strange about Sam's behavior, he wisely kept it to himself.

II.

Sam's blood was soaking into the pillow when he woke up. He didn't feel dizzy, only shaken, because it had never happened before, not after his visions. He grabbed a paper towel and pressed it to his bleeding nose. The powers were taking a bigger toll on his health this time, he realized. That being said, he still didn't need to worry about it — Sam knew he would be dead before it could really bother him.

Sam honestly couldn't say what made him so sure of that, but at the same time he clearly felt this certainty in every bone of his body. Possibly it was just another manifestation of his peculiar sixth sense. Sam thanked all the gods he had ever met that Jesse seemed oblivious to the future.

That still didn't make it any easier to drop him off at Bobby's, especially without any particular explanation. Jesse, to put it lightly, was not happy with Sam's decision.

"Jesse, please, just stay here for a couple days," asked Sam kneeling in front of his boy, trying not to flinch when faced with Jesse's hollow stare.

"That was not our deal, Sam," reminded him Jesse, not for the first time in this discussion.

"Yes, I know." Sam lowered his head, ashamed of himself, but still with no better options. He wasn't going to knowingly expose Jesse to the sight of death. Sam's death. "I'm sorry. But... I need to take care of this alone."

"When will you be back?" This was the first sign of slow acceptance on Jesse's part.

Sam licked his dry lips, still eyeing the ground under his feet, feeling like dirt himself.

"Give me three or four days," he lied and that made him feel a bit dead already.

Jesse remained inscrutable, which was his default expression, before he dealt the final blow:

"Do you plan to come back?"

Somewhere deep down in his subconsciousness Sam must have expected such question, because he only sighed in response, taking it way calmer than he would have thought possible.

"I'm gonna give it my best shot," he promised and was completely honest this time. Jesse must have felt it too, because he finally let him go. Though he did look like he considered saying something more, but he bit himself in the tongue eventually.

As Sam was driving away, leaving Bobby's Salvage Yard in the rear-view mirror, he desperately tried not to wonder what Jesse wished to tell him.

III.

Sam didn't lie to Jesse, he wasn't ready to die. Anticipating the worst outcome was not tantamount to being suicidal. And Sam was neither that, nor inexperienced, so despite the tight feeling pressing onto his chest, he threw Nick's handbag over his shoulder and made sure the Colt was still inside. Thanks to the all the timey-wimey stuff, there were two identical Colts in existence now, and so Sam was pretty sure he had the element of surprise on his side. Not only that, but the foreknowledge of the things to come was definitely in his favor too. And yet, Sam still couldn't shake the sour aftertaste off his tongue.

If he learned one thing in his life, it was to trust his gut. Especially when it told him that death was closing in.

Sam briefly considered calling Dean, despite their falling out. His pointing finger hovered over Dean's contact for a couple of long seconds, but he turned off his phone instead. Leaving this world while having Dean on his bad side — it was not perfect, but bearable. Sam knew that if he were to survive, they would make up in two or three weeks, no more. That's how they rolled. But Sam had more pressing goals concerning Dean, and hugging it out was not part of the plan. Quite the contrary, actually.

They argued well before Sam realized his time was running out, but now Sam couldn't be more glad that it had happened. There were things he wouldn't want to see repeated. And Dean being pissed at him? Doubting in him? It was possibly his only chance to prevent Dean from making that horrible sacrifice for Sam's sake.

So no matter how dearly Sam wanted to be called "bitch" one last time in Dean's teasing voice, he embraced the fact that it wasn't going to happen. The facade of a dark and distant brother wasn't easy to maintain, but he kept it up for Dean's sake now. And Sam was used to not getting the happy ending.

One day after Sam left Jesse at Bobby's place, he woke up in a place he definitely did not fall asleep in. He immediately recognized the rickety fences, the wooden houses falling apart, and the overall atmosphere that left goosebumps all over his body.

Cold Oak, he thought as he turned around and headed towards a nearby house where he expected to find Andy.

"Sam!" The relief was palpable in Andy's voice, even though he still fidgeted with unease. "What are you doing here? Where are we?"

Sam quickly answered his questions to the best of his abilities, but didn't go too far ahead of himself. Andy could barely handle the demonic stuff, so Sam decided not to burden him with anything more. Also, Azazel was probably listening in one way or another. Sam didn't want to show all his cards just yet. He would prefer it much more if he could do this while facing the bastard by himself.

Knowledge that Azazel would die soon by Dean's hand was deeply satisfying, and Sam didn't consider it dimmed by the fact that Azazel would probably off him even sooner. Sam didn't need to see that bastard's end once again. Just being aware of it would suffice.

Ava wasn't in the Cold Oak this time and Sam was still not sure if he could count that one as a win. When he had met her in this time-line, he told her more than before and then showed her some demon traps and protections. Even though it was not easy, he finally managed to convince her and her fiancé to run, run away, and run fast. Sam hoped that she wouldn't turn into a homicidal wanna-be demon leader this time, killing off the other 'chosen ones' as soon as she saw them. But the possibility still lurked in the shadows and Sam wouldn't rest on sheer optimism this time. He'd checked in on Ava periodically, and after his death, Sam was sure Dean would keep on doing it in his stead. And if one day Ava decided to steer off the clear track that Sam had provided for her, Dean would hunt her down, just like any other monster.

Sam considered his possible double standards, and then promptly shut down that train of thought, because it never led to any positive conclusions.

Sam never forgot Lilly's death, but seeing her once again in person brought the image of her corpse to the front of his mind. Before, it had been hanged on the old windmill that stood on the verge of Sam's eye-shot right now. Sam wasn't going to wait till Lilly became the cautionary tale for the rest of them again, so he beckoned at her and Jake, and said:

"I know what's going on in here."

"Who the fuck are you? And why should we trust you?" began Jake, and Sam rolled his eyes, because the need to just snap the neck of his past-and-possibly-future killer was still inside him, held back by a very thin leash. But this Jake hadn't technically done anything wrong yet, so Sam gave the man the benefit of the doubt. For now.

"My name is Sam Winchester and I want all of us to get out of here alive."

"You said you know what going on. Tell us," demanded Lilly, coming one step closer to him, but keeping her hands and arms curled around herself. Sam remembered what supernatural power she received — she stopped people's hearts only with a touch of her hand. She revealed previously that she had killed her girlfriend by accident. Sam wondered, providing he could save her this time, whether she had anybody to come back to.

He took a deep breath.

"It's all gonna sound insane at first, but I don't have time to coddle you and convince you step by step. So either trust me or don't, but please hear me out first."

Sam looked at the skeptical faces and ignored them in favor of summing up the Azazel's persona and his scheme. And he didn't beat around the bush, he mentioned everything: his mother Mary being killed by Azazel, the demon blood in their veins, the army of demons that was supposed to appear on the Earth soon. Sam was in the middle of telling them about the incoming Apocalypse when it finally happened — the thing he was waiting for, the thing he wanted to cause with this whole revealing speech.

The gust of wind behind his back announced the appearance of another guest to the party. Lilly screamed almost as loud as Andy, while Jake only took a controlled step back, as befitted a soldier. Sam turned around, his shoulders tense with a feeling of finality.

"Samuel, aren't you a bit too smart, I wonder," drawled Azazel calmly, stroking his chin in a very ominous manner. Sam just sighed at the theatricality.

Sam never really considered what he could say to the yellow-eyed when seeing him again, so he took a moment to gather his wits. But his brain had only one idea. Go big or go home.

"Yellow-eyed," greeted him Sam, straightening his back. Yeah, of course he was taller than the bastard — small win, but made Sam smile inwardly nonetheless. "You were expecting an angry, righteous lamb, I presume."

Sam consciously tuned in his inner Lucifer voice. He had had the archangel inside him, he remembered how his vocal cords had been used, and he had also spent plenty of time in Lucifer's presence later — he lived with the guy, for God's sake, he could imitate the way Lucifer spoke all too well. And he did it for one and one purpose only — to pull the rug from under Azazel, even if just a little bit.

If Death was coming for him, Sam at least could have some fun in the waiting room.

"Oh, Samuel" sighed Azazel, as if amused by Sam. "So short-sighted. You play with things you don't understand, things completely beyond your reach. So I see you've uncovered what I've done, and what I'm planning to do. But what you still cannot see is that all this?" He waved his hand around. "This is just the beginning. The beginning of a process so big that in the end even calling you a pawn would be too gracious."

Azazel expected a different Sam and it showed. Sam remembered. Way back when, he used to be cocky, foolhardy, ready to leap into a fight without knowing what danger stood before him. At that time, Azazel would be right in his judgement. But the circumstances have changed.

Sam was well aware that his options were scarce without the Colt in his pocket. And God, he never missed the familiar weight of the gun more than in this exact moment, when the opportunity of a perfect shot, right between those yellow eyes, taunted him without mercy. And yet, Sam could only grit his teeth and look down on the demon. The demon that in the long run turned out to be just a pawn himself. Sam appreciated the sweet irony.

"I am not a pawn," was what Sam eventually chose to reply. "I've never been. And if anybody up-, or downstairs, led you to believe differently, then boy, you have been screwed. Maybe you really think that this whole 'competition' is something other than a farce but I am sorry to disappoint. You may think you've picked your favorite horse in this race — me," Sam saw the slight widening of the demon's eyes, "but in fact, this whole thing is so much bigger than you as well. I am your favorite simply because in the end, I was the only possible choice for what is to yet to come. But hey, you only know that part about the incoming army of demons. It seems like Hell has forgotten to send you the follow-up memo. So I am so sorry to be the bearer of sad news, but in the general picture of my life? You, Azazel, are nothing more than just a little annoying itch, forgotten as soon as it's scratched."

"You've grown differently to what I expected," noticed Azazel.

"You have no idea." Sam shook his head with an indulgent smile. "I think I've grown differently than what everybody expected, myself included."

Azazel narrowed his eyes at Sam, trying to puzzle him out, but the answer was beyond the demon's reach. And he didn't seem to appreciate the tables turning.

"I don't know where you have your insight from, my dear Samuel," said the demon, just as if Sam hadn't spoken, "but if what you're saying is indeed right, then you must be aware that a puny human like yourself can make little difference in the overall state of things. And just imagine, while not being able to stop anything, you will soon be forced to watch the world burn around you."

To what Sam could only let out a deep and honest chuckle and shake his head. All his companions — Andy, Lilly and Jake — stared at him with a growing unease. If they had started to trust him earlier, this resolution was melting with his every uttered word. To Sam it was perfectly understandable, he would not hold that against them. But gaining their trust was not on his priority list, not this time. So he just focused on explaining his amusement to the demon.

"You demons," sighed Sam, "you always tend you underestimate us. It will be your doom sooner than you think."

That earned him a chuckle in return.

"I adore you, humans," murmured Azazel, "so willing to make threats, so trigger-happy, when in fact you can't even fathom the scale of your own unimportance."

"Humans?" Sam raised his eyebrow. "I wasn't talking about the whole humankind, yellow-eyed. I meant just us, the Winchesters."

"Winchesters?" Azazel seemed to be having plenty of fun at Sam's expense. "Only you could be so vain to believe the whole world spins around you. But the truth lies someplace way less heroic." Azazel took an intimidating step toward Sam. "The truth is, I will soon be standing over your rotten corpse, and those three behind you will get busy slitting each other's throats. And nobody will even pay a minute's attention to the fact that in the end, you, Samuel Winchester, were simply insignificant. "

"I agree, to a point," replied Sam swiftly, surprising Azazel. He then furrowed his eyebrows, thinking he heard a familiar engine roaring in the distance. But when he tried to tune in, he lost the sound completely. It was a vain hope nonetheless, Sam thought, and he continued. "I may soon be dead, but make no mistake, Azazel. It will affect the world, and it will affect it more than you could ever suspect. Because while I might be nothing to most, there is one to whom I was once everything. And this one is somebody even you would bow to."

Whatever disbelieving reply had Azazel prepared, Sam never got to hear it. Right at that moment Impala appeared, as if out of thin air, from around the corner house and drove straight into Azazel's side, throwing the demon a good few meters into the mud.

"Dean!" Sam turned to his brother who jumped out of the car and threw Nick's old handbag towards his face.

"Kill that dick first, chat later," commended Dean and that actually made sense, so Sam dug out the Colt and flicked the safety off. Nick's bag fell discarded beside his feet, Sam's eyes only flicked towards it briefly. But as soon as Azazel noticed their advantage, black smoke started pouring out his mouth.

"Sam!" hissed Dean, and Sam just reacted. He threw out his free hand as well, pointed it towards Azazel and violently tightened it into a fist. Azazel started choking on his own smoking matter, and Sam simply took a shot.

It wasn't nearly as dramatic as the first time. The yellow-eyed just buzzed and his empty vessel fell to the ground, unmoving. Sam, Dean, and everybody around them stared at the dead body for a couple of long seconds in disbelief. But yes, a threat this big just passed in such an anticlimactic manner. The demon was truly gone.

Sam let out a sigh of relief. Before, he tried to convince himself he was not afraid of death. But still, with Azazel dead on the ground, his chest felt lighter, and his mind calmer.

This first sign of hope dispersed when Sam felt a sudden stab, and then sharp pain spreading on his back and into the insides of his body.

"No no no!" Dean turned to him, eyes wide with panic mixed with dramatic déjà vu. "Sam!"

Sam briefly lost a sense of time. He had no idea how he managed to turn around and look his killer in the eye.

"Andy? Why?" He whispered, already feeling blood on his tongue. Sam had always expected the killing blow to come from Jake. Not Andy. Never Andy.

Andy's eyes were terrified, his hands and arms shook, but he tried to match Sam's eyes with a semblance of resolution.

"I had a vision, Sam" he mumbled, "I saw you. I saw what you would have done, if you had survived, and I couldn't— let that happen..."

Sam's legs couldn't keep his weight any longer, they bent against his will and he dropped like a puppet. But instead of dirt and sand on the ground, he was met with the warmth of Dean's arms who was there to catch him. Dean knelt in the mud and lowered Sam so that he could lean on Dean's chest.

"Sammy, don't do this to me." Dean gripped Sam's head tightly, combing his hair in quiet helplessness. Sam held onto Dean's shirt, but his fingers were quickly loosing strength just as the rest of his body. "I can't do this again. This time was meant to be different, Sammy... What have we done wrong?"

"Dean—" Sam finally managed to whisper. He had to force himself, the last sleep getting more inviting with every passing second, but Sam needed to fight it. There was one last thing for him to say. "Dean, don't bring me back," he pleaded, speaking the words more to the Dean's shaking shoulder than to his face, but they were loud enough.

"You can't ask me that." Dean couldn't believe his own ears. He took Sam's face in his hands and forced Sam to look him right in the eye. "You know you can't."

"I'm not giving you—choice," mumbled Sam, trying to keep his eyes open. "Just—don't. 'Cause if you do, I'm—I will do this, Dean. I'll open the cage. I'll start the Apocalypse—of my own—free will..."

"I don't believe it, Sam!" stopped him Dean, shaking Sam's limp head again, even more desperately this time. "You can't trick me into letting you—!"

"'m not—" Sam's eyes fluttered. He forced them fully open one last time, only to look at Dean with full honesty. "I was engaged to him, Dean—" Sam took a shallow breath. "I still love him... I'm not that brother you'd want to bring back..."

He heard Dean breath in sharply, then freeze.

This was how it was all supposed to end. Sam closed his eyes for the last time, letting the darkness overcome him.

Sometimes he really hated being right.

IV.

Before it all happened, Dean took a minute to leave a note for John. Only then did he leave in a hurry for Cold Oak. When Sam had taken Jesse and left him alone, he took the Supernatural books with himself. But Dean was so naively sure they had already changed enough that he didn't even think of how the second one ended. But as he was busy following some lead for a random ghost, the cell phone rang in his pocket.

It was Jesse and he was worried for Sam. It was enough for Dean to put two and two together, so he just told Jesse to stay put at Bobby's. Then he run towards Impala, filled with justified terror.

Hours later, when he was holding Sam's dead body in his arms once again, he raised his head as he heard another car approaching. Somehow it never really crossed his mind that John would catch up with him. Either way, it was already too late.

John jumped out of the car only to be met with the sight of his older son holding on to the corpse of the younger one. Sam's lips were already turning blue, his cheeks pale and cooling.

"Sam," he whispered, falling to his knees right beside Dean. Dean took in his father's sorrow, but kept his mouth shut. He knew that, even in this moment of overwhelming tragedy, John would not approve of what he was about to do.

Sam's warnings echoed in Dean's mind, but in the end, the choice didn't even need to be made. For Dean, there was just one way in which he could proceed. No matter what Sam said, no matter what he wished to do later, Dean's mind was clear — no doubt, no hesitation, only calm determination simmering beneath his skin.

John took Dean's calmness as an expression of shock, or maybe denial. He put his hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezed gently, offering his silent support. Dean nodded, his eyes not leaving Sam's pale skin. But his mind was already busy.

That night, Dean sneaked out of the motel room he shared with John and got to the nearest crossroads.

And the next morning, a very alive Sam knocked on their door. It was John who opened.

"Sam—?" John's eyes widened in shock. "But how—?" While John was asking the question, the answer came to him and he froze in the realization.

"You know how, dad," said Sam, nodding and looking over John's shoulder to catch Dean's eyes. "I told you not to," he said to his brother.

"You told him—?" repeated John, the disbeliefs just piling on top of the other. "How did you even—?"

Sam stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind himself. He turned to Dean.

"I wasn't lying, Dean," he said simply, knowing it would be enough for his brother to understand. "It wasn't just so that you wouldn't—"

"I know," interrupted him Dean, calm as he rarely was. "But whatever you choose to do later, that's on you. But this one? This is on me, Sammy. And I couldn't just—"

"You won't change my mind," cut him off Sam. He hated to be so firm, but he couldn't let Dean hold any fake hope in the matter.

Dean smiled sadly under his breath. "I know." He sighed. "But maybe I wanted to give you a chance to... change mine."

That made Sam do a double take. He blinked, staring at his brother, wondering if he misheard.

"Are you really saying that—?"

"I'm not sure, alright?" Dean raised his hand to cut him off again. "I need time. But I will not write you off over this, at least—" Dean stopped himself mid sentence.

"At least not yet?" supplied Sam calmly.

Dean's shoulders slumped as he nodded stiffly. "At least not yet," he admitted.

Sam's throat was tight from emotion, not all of them positive. But this was far from the worst reconciliation he'd had with Dean over the years.

"Come here, you jerk." Sam ignored the tears that appeared in the corner of his eyes and opened his arms to welcome Dean into a bear hug. Dean held him tight, grabbing his neck from behind. He needed it more than Sam did; needed to feel the pulse under Sam's skin, the warmth, and the strength that was back into Sam's muscles.

"Bitch," he muttered in Sam's shoulder. Sam huffed out a brief chuckle.

"You made a deal," realized John from behind them, and Sam froze. He had known about the deal already, of course, but John was one factor he had never considered before. He hoped he would never have to, but apparently even the second chances couldn't run too smoothly.

"Dean." John's voice was breaking with helpless anger. "How could you be so stupid?"

Dean licked his dry lips and look up at their father, his shoulder slumping. He didn't want to fight, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"It was my choice, dad," he said simply. "I knew what I was doing."

John hit the table with his first, barely controlling his sudden fury.

"Bullshit! You're young, hotheaded! You didn't think at all!"

Dean couldn't really explain that most of those accusations were just not true. Starting with the first one.

In fact, not only did Dean feel older than he looked, but he also felt older than he was actually supposed to be. The events were spinning out of his control too fast, and with that additional mix-up with time, Dean was simply bone-deep tired. It wasn't the first time he battled such feelings, but the last time occurred when they were gathering resources to fight the impossible war against both Heaven and Hell. This time they didn't even officially know about those forces. And yet Dean still had the feeling that they were already on fast track to the grand encore.

Dean would sooner die than allow Michael anywhere near him, but those thoughts were far too early. He needed to focus on here and now — there were plenty of fuck ups here as well.

"I'm not stupid, dad," replied Dean. "I know what I was signing for."

"No, Dean, you have no goddamn idea!" John was beside himself. "We need to find a way to take that deal back!"

Dean's eyes widened in shock.

"How can you even say so?! Even if it was possible, I would never trade my life back! It would kill Sam again!"

John swiftly turned his head towards Sam, his eyes glaring. "Aren't you gonna say anything?"

Sam pressed his lips tight. "I don't like it any more than you do, dad," he said finally, "but I know there is nothing that can reverse it." And God, he did know it. Way back when, he tried literally every single thing, and in the end he still got a front row seat to the terrible spectacle starring hell hounds.

"And that's it?" John's eyes simmered with dark disappointment. Sam immediately wished he had never noticed that. His chest tightened. From now on, it was only going to get worse. What Sam would allow to happen, and what Sam was later going to do, it would never meet John's approval. And Sam couldn't be bothered to fight for it. But it didn't mean that this did not hurt.

"You're just gonna shrug and let your brother go to Hell for your sake?!" continued John through gritted teeth.

"Hey!" interrupted him Dean. "That's not fair, dad! We all know there's nothing you can do! Don't blame him for saying that out loud!"

"There is still plenty of time to fight! To find a way out! There has to be something—"

"There isn't!" cut him off Dean. "I've got just one year left, not ten. So could you two please not waste that time fighting?!"

Sam would really like to just nod his head and make peace with their dad, if only to appease Dean. But John wasn't having it. As soon as he processed what Dean meant, the fact that Dean had even less time than usual, John stormed out to seek for some loopholes. But as he was crossing the threshold with a duffel bag thrown over his arm, John hissed one last thing to Dean:

"See?" He pointed at Sam. "Do you really want to sacrifice your eternity for a brother who acts like that?"

Dean gritted his teeth and replied with silence.

V.

And just like that, Sam and Dean were back to hunting together. There was no discussion about it, but when John left, Dean nodded his head towards the Impala and Sam followed him to the car without further ado.

"To Bobby's?" asked Dean when he turned the engine on.

"To Bobby's," nodded Sam.

They had a long drive ahead and they were both alright with spending it in complete silence. But two hours in, a lost thought wandered into Sam's head and he couldn't let that go. So he finally cleared his throat to give Dean some warning that they were going to talk. But other than that, Sam wasn't above starting the conversation with a bomb. So he glanced at Dean and guessed:

"Was is because of Castiel?"

Dean tensed so much that for a moment Sam was afraid the car was going to swerve. He knew the jackpot when he hit it.

"What are you talking about?" asked Dean, but both of them were aware that this defense wasn't going to work.

"You. Demon deal. Hell," prompted him Sam, as if they were talking about the weather.

"Don't be ridiculous. You know why I did that." Dean kept his eyes on the road just a little bit too stiffly.

"I'm not saying it wasn't about me." Sam shook his head lightly. "But maybe... it wasn't entirely about me."

"Sam, just let it go," asked Dean after a brief moment of silence, his words only a little louder than a whisper.

Sam closed his mouth, considering his options. He wasn't trying to make his brother uncomfortable, not this time.

So he only offered:

"Dean, it's okay." His assurance was honest and simple, and he prayed Dean would believe him.

Dean stayed stubborn and kept avoiding Sam's eyes. Sam gave him space to think, he quietened for the next minutes that seemed to last forever, until Dean finally broke. He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel and risked a hesitant glance at Sam.

Sam focused on radiating with calm and open energy, letting Dean take however long he needed. And in the end, it was enough to prompt Dean to talk.

"I'm not sure it is." Dean hesitated. "Okay, I mean."

"I think you knew I wouldn't mind. And I get it, you miss him. You're allowed to, Dean."

Dean waved his hand in a vague gesture.

"Yeah, but... isn't this... taking it a bit to the extreme?" He swallowed. "I mean, it's Hell and—"

"Dean, it's not the worst nor stupidest thing you've done for your family," reminded him Sam gently. "Is this really worth your doubts?" Sam considered it, and then added, his throat suddenly dry, "Would you like to take it back? It this it?"

"No!" Dean's reaction was immediate. Then his shoulders slumped again. "But..." He took a deep breath. "I was thinking ahead, you know? It's been two years since we last saw Cas and... it was easier not to miss him when I thought 'soon', you know? 'We're gonna meet him again soon'. But then it hit me. What if... what if we changed too much? What if..." Dean licked his lips and shook his head. "But then you died, asking me not to bring you back... And I realized, if I don't bring you back, I don't do to Hell. But if I don't go to Hell, then what reason would Cas have to show himself to me...?"

Dean shut his mouth and looked ashamed for having admitted that much. But Sam understood. He put his hand on Dean's shoulder and felt the tension circling through his brother's body. Sam offered his support.

"Dean, I meant it. It's alright."

"No, it's not!" Dean snapped. "I had the chance to stop the Apocalypse from ever beginning! But I chose to risk the whole goddamn world, just because—" He stopped himself.

"Because you miss him, Dean," finished Sam for him, way calmer than he was starting to feel. "There is nothing wrong with that."

"What kind of person that makes me? A person who likely just doomed our world on a whim!"

"A whim?" repeated Sam, disbelieving. "Dean, you deserve to be happy! And you deserve to fight for it! Goddamn it, it doesn't make you a bad person!"

"It's not that easy, Sam," muttered Dean in return, trying to bring the discussion to an end.

Sam just huffed in annoyance and shut up, as requested. But deep inside he hoped that maybe, just maybe, Dean would start coming to terms with the notion that yes, he might deserve his own "Happily Ever After" as well.

VI.

"Jesse, can I talk to you for a minute?" It was the first time Dean requested such a thing from the boy, but there was no hint of surprise on Jesse's face.

"Sure," he nodded and glanced at the door. Sam went out just a moment ago; a grocery run. Jesse was not so subtly showing he knew the timing Dean chose was not random.

Dean sighed and shrugged, nodding at Jesse's suspicions. He did not want Sam to be a part of his conversation, since it was supposed to be about him.

Dean sat on Jesse's bed.

"You've spent more time with him recently," he began. Jesse blinked and waited for continuation. Dean cleared his throat. "I wonder, am I just overprotective, or is he... weaker?"

Jesse's hands curled into small fists on the duvet. It hit Dean suddenly that this kid sitting in front of him, this little boy looking no more than 8 or 9 years old, was in fact on the verge of adulthood. In a couple of months, Jesse — the real Jesse inside, not this time-relevant body — was going to be 18 years old. Dean made a note to himself to ask Sam about throwing some birthday party for him, but he had to dismiss the idea immediately after. He counted the months; he would be in Hell by then. And since Jesse's birthday was not long after, Sam wasn't going to be in a festive mood either.

And what does it matter if we were trying? We still managed to screw this kid's childhood in the end , thought Dean to himself, trying to fight of the wave of bitterness.

Jesse's matter-of-fact voice brought Dean back.

"No, you're not. I see it too," Jesse said, his eyes showing worry as he looked at Dean. "Even before his— death," Jesse's voice hitched a bit when he was saying the word, "I saw his nose bleeding at night. And now it's only getting worse."

Dean wouldn't share his concerns so openly with a nine year old kid. But he reminded himself again and again that Jesse, in fact, wasn't one. And Jesse's behavior itself proved a very good point. To be fair though, Jesse acted more mature from the very beginning.

So Dean revealed:

"When we went to hunt a striga a couple days ago, Sam seemed alright, but later, when we almost had it, Sam just... well, he just tripped, and I don't know, maybe it's nothing, but for a moment I thought... he was going to pass out. He stumbled for a bit, but after a sec everything was fine and dandy again. And he didn't want to talk about it later, he said he had too light breakfast or some other bullshit..."

"A week ago when we went to the supermarket," said Jesse quietly, "he was carrying the bags to the car and then on the parking lot, one of them just fell to the ground. We picked everything up together, he apologized for being clumsy. But I—," Jesse swallowed tightly, "I don't think he was clumsy. I think he's..."

"Weak?" supplied Dean.

Jesse nodded with sad expression. "But I don't know what we can do," he added. "Do you think it's because we train those powers now?"

Dean considered that. "Maybe," he admitted. "But maybe it's because we change stuff now, stuff that's supposed to happen. We know about it even before Sam gets a vision. So it often happens now that his visions are... wrong. They show what should happen after Sam reacts to them, but we react even sooner. And I think... it messes with them. They are supposed to show Sam the future, but when he gets them, the future is already being altered and maybe..."

"It's starting to take its toll on him?" guessed Jesse. Dean closed his eyes briefly and nodded.

"But again, what can we do?" repeated Jesse in a more urgent tone.

But Dean could only slump his shoulder and shake his head.

"I don't know, Jesse," he admitted finally. "I just don't know."

VII.

The need for answers became even more immediate when Sam collapsed for the first time. Dean was already worried about the shadows under Sam's eyes, but he was under an illusion that the matter was not that bad yet. Sam was always the first to try and convince Dean so.

But then a vision hit Sam when he nodded off in front of the TV, and the first thing Dean noticed was blood. Nothing he hadn't seen before, technically, but soon it proved otherwise. Sam's head was propped up between his shoulder and the backrest, which looked painfully uncomfortable in this angle. The blood slowly trickled down from his nose, painting a narrow red line that soon crossed his lips and got to the chin.

Dean shook him by the shoulder, light as not to startle him too much.

"Sam," he said, "wake up, Sam."

Sam didn't react. His head slided down to the armrest, into an even more unnatural position.

"Sam!" hissed Dean louder, grabbing both Sam's shoulders now. That worked. Sam flinched and his eyelids fluttered.

"Nhh?" He asked in a sleepy voice.

"Come on, get up," hurried him Dean, trying to get him into a vertical position. "Your nose is bleeding."

"What?" mumbled Sam, slowly getting up a bit. He raised his hand to touch his face and inspected the red-smeared fingers. "Oh," he realized.

Dean was about to get a bit calmer, but then Sam's entire body cringed and stiffened, falling back to the side.

"Sam!" yelled Dean, back to panic mode again.

Sam's eyelids fluttered like mad, but under them Dean saw only the whites. Sam seized as if in an epileptic attack, almost falling off the couch if it weren't for Dean's instincts. He caught Sam and grounded him on the mattress.

"Sam!"

The blood was far beyond Sam's chin by now, it fell down on his shirt. The trickle was not slowing down, the fresh blood was being smeared all over Sam's cheeks; there was more of it every second. Dean grabbed Sam's arms to stop his body from thrashing, but other than that, he was out of ideas what to do.

But mere seconds later, the seizure was gone and Sam's body fell entirely still, which Dean was not sure was any better.

Sam opened his eyes a moment later and immediately tried to shrug it all off.

"It looked worse than it actually was," he mumbled, combing his hair, now sticky with sweat.

"Y'know it does not make me feel any better," replied Dean harshly. "How long is it happening, Sam?" He looked at his younger brother, clenching his jaw.

"Getting worse recently," admitted Sam.

"Why didn't you tell me? We need to find a way to— cure you, somehow!" Dean waved his hand. But Sam only shook his head with resignation.

"No can do, Dean." Sam sighed. "Don't you think I researched it already? There is literally nothing on this topic. And you've got enough on your plate, 'didn't want you to worry..."

"Bullshit!" hissed Dean. "Of course I'm gonna worry about you! But did excluding me ever made anything better for you?"

It was a surprisingly fair point, Sam had to admit.

"Previously, I was gonna be drawn to demon's blood soon," began Sam, treading carefully with this sore topic. "It helped— I mean, only to fight the headaches and stuff, of course— But I'm not gonna do this again, obviously."

"Obviously," repeated Dean, his voice dry. He didn't want to sound suspicious, but on the other hand, he found the feeling hard to suppress.

"I'm not," said Sam through gritted teeth. "I'd sooner die than—"

"That's not an acceptable option either!" cut him off Dean.

"Well, it's not like we're spoiled for choice, Dean."

Dean rubbed the corners of his eyes. He was well-acquainted with the feeling of helplessness, but recently he was taking it too far. There was no breaks, no time to breathe, just challenges and problems piling on one another.

"I never thought I may regret that you dumped that creepy vial with Lucifer's blood..." sighed Dean. He didn't miss the way Sam flinched at that mention.

"Sam..." Dean hissed in this warning you-better-tell-me-you-didn't tone. "You dumped it, right?"

Sam avoided his eyes.

"I did," he said and even sounded sincere. Still, Dean knew there was more. "I did, Dean!" repeated Sam, looking back at him.

"So why do I sense a 'but' in here?"

Sam licked his dry lips. "Because it came back. The vial, I mean," he revealed. "And I destroyed it again and again, and it came back, uncracked and full of blood. Always appeared the next day in the same pocket of Nick's bag."

Sam knew disappointment when he saw it. Dean didn't even try to hide it. His eyes were cold, and lips pressed tight; Sam had a feeling a thick brick wall suddenly appeared between them.

"Did you drink it?" asked Dean in such voice as if neither answer could surprise him.

"No, Dean, I didn't!" assured him Sam, but already felt it was a lost case. Dean's trust in him was evaporating right before Sam's eyes. "I told you, I just couldn't get rid of it! But I never touched it!

Dean wasn't convinced, and why should he be? It wasn't the first time Sam kept something from him, and Sam wasn't even regretful about it. Dean knew Sam would do the same thing again and again, if he could only logically justify it to himself. But Dean had enough of this so-called logic, of lies that were technically meant to protect him, but in fact just hid the stuff that Sam would rather not talk about.

Dean stood up from the couch.

"Yeah, whatever," he shrugged. "You drank it, or you didn't, who cares?" Dean threw his hands in the air. "But how many more secrets like that do you hide, Sammy? Huh?" He raised his pointing finger. "Or you know what, I don't even wanna know. 'Cause you were freakin' engaged, Sam, and you didn't tell me! So what's a bit of archangel blood next to that?!"

Sam raised from the couch right after him.

"Dean, Cas was still missing back then," he explained. "I just didn't want you to feel..."

"What's got Cas to do with that?!" Dean raised his open palm to shut Sam up. "No, Sam, maybe it's time you stopped thinking about my feelings and started thinking about what the fuck is wrong with you that you seem pathologically incapable of trusting me?!"

Sam closed his mouth, as if got directly hit in the chest. But then he replied sharply:

"Pot? Kettle? Hello? Have you forgotten that it is you, Dean, who still can't decide which side I'm supposedly on?"

"If I remember correctly, I've decided to give you the benefit of the doubt, Sam. And right now? It just feels like you're throwing it right back into my face," replied Dean harshly. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out. This conversation was definitely over.

Unfortunately, Sam's visions were not.

It was a rough fight, but they've had worse in the last years. In the last months, even, so Sam was not overly worried — he settled for regular-worried instead. As it turned out, he was right in his judgement, because Dean came back before dawn and brought a pepperoni pizza for Jesse. He brought one for Sam as well, and the only visible indicator of his anger was the pineapple on it. Sam lowered his heard and admitted his guilty by eating the damn thing.

He was munching on the last piece when he noticed something was off. A weird feeling spread in his head, like a migraine coming, but faster and without any apparent reason. Sam recalled the wall in his head, protecting him from the memories of Hell, and the moment it started cracking. This was similar, and growing stronger with each passing second.

"Dean," he mumbled, his tongue refusing to work properly. Sam touched his temples, started massaging it in hope of alleviating the pain.

"Sammy?" Dean tore his gaze away from the TV.

Sam saw black dots spreading over his vision before he managed to say anything. And then he forgot what he had on the tip of his tongue when the sudden wave of pain hit him, taking away the clarity of his mind.

"Hurts..." he managed to whisper, leaning over the table, his balance feeling a bit off. He heard Dean spring off the couch.

"Sam, what's wrong?!"

Then he blacked out and came back to consciousness not a minute later, lying on the floor in Dean's arms. The world was swimming around him, Dean's face blurred before his eyes. Sam's tongue felt unwieldy, and his eyelids too heavy to hold them up. Sam couldn't move his arms, couldn't even feel his legs; the muscles that were supposed to help him move now just weighed him down.

Dean was shouting some words, doing something around him, but Sam couldn't focus. His ears were picking up sounds, but his brain wasn't able to process them into meaningful bits. Most of all, everything felt heavy, and gravity became a force he couldn't even hope to overcome.

He blacked out again and this time he didn't open his eyes for a long, long time.

VIII.

When Sam finally came to, it was to the sight of Jesse sleeping right next to his bed on a rickety chair. He looked around and realized he was in a hospital, which wasn't that surprising when he recalled what had happened. What caught him off guard was the fact that he seemed completely fine. As in — he actually hadn't felt that well for the better part of the last three years. No headache in the back of his head, just threatening to appear, no exhaustion filling his bones; he felt like an actual newborn and for a moment he hoped it wasn't the case this time. But it didn't seem likely — had he died, he probably wouldn't wake up in a hospital bed.

The door to his room opened. Sam's eyes met with Dean, who entered with a cheap and crappy hospital coffee in a plastic cup.

"Sam, " he said, and this one word was enough to convey the relief that overcame him.

"Dean?" asked Sam, a bit hesitant. "What happened?"

"How do you feel?"

"Amazing, that's why I'm asking," said Sam, as if it was a natural cause for concern. Well, nobody ever claimed that being a Winchester was easy.

"Good, good," muttered Dean, which seemed so unlike him that Sam got even more alert.

"Dean," Sam dragged out the vowels, almost hissing in warning. "What did you do?"

Dean covered his lips with his hand for a moment, sighing. He sat on the bed next to Sam.

"You feeling alright, you said?" He made sure.

"Yeah, but Dean?" Sam prompted him with his hand to speak.

Dean let out a deep and guilty breath.

"You were unconscious for three days, Sam," he began and now he was avoiding Sam's eyes. "We brought you here, but the doctors had no idea what was going on. They stabilized you or something, but..."

"What did you do, Dean?" repeated Sam, only pretending to be patient.

Dean closed his mouth. Then opened it, and closed it again. Then finally said:

"I gave you that blood."

Sam froze, wishing he just misheard.

"You're joking," he said, as if demanding his statement became true.

"No, Sam, and I'm sorry, but there was no—"

"No, Dean, you had no right!" yelled Sam, not caring that Jesse was still sleeping beside him. "I didn't— I never would have—"

"I know!" interrupted him Dean. "I'm sorry, Sam! But it helped!"

"So what, if I drink blood, I'm a monster, but if you feed me it while I'm unconscious, then you're a hero?!" Sam threw the covers away and sat on the verge of hospital bed, unlinking all the beeping devices that monitored his body.

"No, Sam stop it! You've got every right to be pissed at me, but that was the only solution that I could try..."

"Not without my consent!"

"I couldn't exactly ask for it, could I?!"

"Well, and what does that make me now? I was already a boy with a demon blood before, and now what? Do they cancel each other? Or maybe coexist? How will pieces of archangel and demon behave, sharing the same space? Have you even considered that?"

"We'll just have to be careful, pay attention..."

"Woah! Real scientific reply, Dean!" Sam jumped out of bed and haphazardly started putting on his clothes.

"Well, what else do you want me to say?!"

When he was done, Sam grabbed Nick's old bag and approached Jesse to wake him up.

"Now? Nothing, Dean," he replied. "I just want you to start respecting some things. Like, I don't know, maybe my goddamn will!"

He held out a hand to shake Jesse's arm, but Dean's voice stopped him.

"Please don't go away again, Sam," he said quietly, and Sam's hand stopped in the air, because Dean sounded vulnerable. And that vulnerability wasn't something Sam could just ignore, even if some part of him wanted to. "I know I screwed up, and I know you hate the fact that I probably don't regret it as much as I should, but... I've got only two months left, Sam. Please, don't—"

Don't leave me alone, was what Dean meant to say, and Sam heard it, even if the words never actually left Dean's mouth.

Sam sighed and lowered his hand, letting Jesse sleep.

IX.

Sam and Jesse stayed with Dean till the end and Dean appreciated it, even if wasn't good at saying that out loud. But they didn't need the words of gratitude, both of them could read the nonverbal signals Dean was sending. Even Riot, as if sensing that something was wrong, started sleeping in Dean's legs at night, steadfastly ignoring his initial protests. The dog knew better what the human needed and in the end she would even resort to the puppy-eyes technique, which worked way better than Dean would ever admit.

John talked to Dean regularly on the phone, reporting each week his progress or rather the lack of it. Dean tried to convince their dad that it was fine to come back and spend the last weeks together, to let go of the hopeless pursuit. But John refused to mimic Sam's attitude.

"He can be sitting and holding your hand, but I'm actually gonna do something about this deal!" repeated John every time Dean brought the topic.

Sam couldn't hold John's attitude against him. After all, the last time, it was Sam who had tried to do the exact same thing.

In the end, John failed as expected, and they all met at Bobby's to await the tragic conclusion of Dean's life. Or this part of it, at least.

Sam tried not to think of all the grim possibilities. What if they were wrong in their assumptions? What if Cas wouldn't show this time? What if he showed much later? What if Dean changed too much to be the 'righteous man' again? What if, what if, what if... Sam was slowing going crazy from all that doubts. And Dean looked as if his mind was serving him the exact same playlist.

The important thing was, John refused to talk to Sam. At all. He greeted Bobby, he hugged Dean, even nodded to Jesse, but didn't acknowledge Sam's presence in the slightest.

Sam raised his chin and didn't bother to show any sign of discomfort.

When the time was drawing close, Sam asked Jesse to take Riot and go to the room upstairs. At first, Jesse looked like he wanted to argue, but when he took in Sam and Dean's exhausted expressions, he just tightened his lips and nodded.

"Dean." Jesse came closer and hugged him. "We'll be waiting for you," he added in a whisper.

"Take care of Sam," replied Dean, hugging him back.

"Of course," agreed Jesse at once. As an afterthought, he added in an even quieter voice, just for Dean's benefit, "You're not the first person to ask that from me."

Dean raised his eyebrows, surprised. Jesse took a step back with an enigmatic smile lurking in the corners of his lips.

Sam observed the whole exchange from the side. Things changed a lot between Jesse and Dean in the last years, some of which Sam might have even missed, but now their connection was clear. Sam couldn't name it, and in all likelihood neither could Jesse and Dean, but it didn't matter. Family did not end in blood, and Jesse was only one of many examples.

If, for some reason, Castiel didn't make it this time, Sam decided he would personally go and bring Dean back from Hell. He had a feeling Jesse would be right behind him. Between the two of them and their demonic powers, well — Sam was used to fighting more with less.

Chapter Text

I.

Dean woke up in a coffin. He oriented himself, looked around, then struggled to break through the wood. When it gave in, dirt fell on his face, trying to bury him again. Dean fought and dug. Up, and up, and when he thought he was going to choke, his hand sprung over the ground level. Dean was close to the surface. The he felt something warm but strong grab his hand and pull upwards. With this help, his arms and head found themselves above the ground.

It was Sam who held one of Dean’s hands, kneeling next to the old wooden cross.

“Welcome back, Lazarus,” said Sam and handed him a bottle of water. Dean had never felt more grateful for his brother’s foresight.

“You’re late,” he muttered, just to be an ass, as soon as he quenched his thirst. He stood, straightening his legs.

“Only a few minutes. Nowhere in this damn book does it say when exactly you were resurrected, I had to make an educated guess.”

“I guess you guessed wrong, then.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

“If you have any complaints, I can take the water back.” He reached for it, but Dean took a step back, hiding the bottle behind himself. “Or the three burgers with extra bacon that I bought on my way here,” added Sam contemplatively.

“You’ve brought burgers?” Dean’s eyes gleamed with excitement. Sam smirked.

“And pie,” he said, as an afterthought.

Dean looked like he couldn’t decide whether to hug him or just run for Sam’s car, where he surely kept the aforementioned food. Sam shook his head fondly and waved his hand at the Impala, as if giving Dean permission to feast.

Despite the exhaustion and dirt, Dean grinned as if Christmas came early. “Best Brother Ever.”

“And don’t you forget that!” yelled Sam after Dean, but Dean was already halfway to the car.

Sam smiled fondly. He was so glad the time-line wasn’t fucked up too much, that Dean still got pulled out of Hell after exactly four months. Knowing how long it had actually been for Dean, every single day of the wait strained Sam’s patience as it was. The uncertainty was killing him, but he held himself together for Jesse’s sake. And Bobby’s. Sam hated that he couldn’t tell Bobby what he was waiting for, so he at least decided to be there for him. Unlike the previous time. Yeah, there were many things Sam was not proud of, but this one made the infamous top ten.

When Dean got to the Impala, Jesse greeted him with a smile. And with a burger. Riot jumped though the open door and threw herself at Dean, barking and waving her tail happily.

Dean grabbed the burger in one hand and petted the dog with the other. He sat on the shotgun seat of the Impala and sunk onto it, letting out a deep breath. He dug his teeth in the burger, not caring if the bite was too big.

“Welcome home, Dean,” said Jesse from the backseat.

Dean chewed and swallowed. Resurrection was a weird thing, he decided. He was going to feel off for a while. But the burger was good, and the Impala really did feel like home. Especially with Sam and Jesse inside.

“Yeah,” he said.

Sam joined them in the car and turned on the engine.

Dean just got out of Hell; he was exhausted to say the least, so he let Sam drive without a fuss.

But only this time. Sam shouldn’t get any ideas, duh.

II.

Bobby tested Dean for every creature they knew of, and when all of it turned out negative — and only then — he hugged the hell out of him.

“If no demon deals were involved, how is this possible?” asked Bobby when Sam assured him that it was not the case.

“I don’t know, Bobby.” Dean had to lie, they had no other plausible explanation. “But I have a feeling we’re gonna find out real soon,” he added to take the edge off.

Bobby didn’t like this, but he had no other choice than to accept it. For now.

They called John, and when he arrived he put Dean through all the tests once again — hunters were the suspicious kind after all. That’s what kept them alive. In the end, he was even more uneasy than Bobby, but still, seeing Dean again made John look at least ten years younger. There was no denying that John loved them, even if the way he usually showed it left a lot to be desired.

“It’s gonna be something big,” predicted John after getting all the facts.

Goddamn his awesome hunter intuition, thought Dean. John’s instincts still managed to amaze him sometimes. Even after all these years.

Indeed, when Castiel showed up, it was a sight to behold. Even though Sam and Dean were prepared for him, even though they knew the scope of his abilities, seeing them again in their full glory still made an impact. Their memories of the early-Castiel were dimmed by the years that followed, by how he and his powers changed. Being reminded of this raw-state-Castiel, the first one they knew, the dangerous, powerful and loyal soldier, it was truly something. In the end, they didn’t even need to fake their surprise and wariness that much.

“I was the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition,” said Castiel to Dean, not minding the presence of others this time.

“Yeah? And who are you? And what do you want from me?” played Dean, treading carefully. He gripped his shoulder as he was speaking, the one with Castiel’s hand-print on it.

John and Bobby surely missed that, but Sam was observing Dean’s face. He noticed Dean’s expression, the gleam in his eyes when he touched the imprint.

Well, what do you know , noticed Sam while barely holding back an amused smile, it looks like Dean enjoys being marked by our Castiel.

The current problem — except for Dean’s obliviousness — lay in the fact that it wasn’t “their” Castiel, at least not yet. The possibility of Castiel remembering their past was incredibly small. Had he remembered, he would have surely come and visit them sooner.

They had wondered how to overcome Castiel’s initial Heaven’s-little-soldier attitude. Dean was certain he could win him over once again, no matter the changing circumstances. As a result, Sam decided to leave that struggle to him.

Sam liked to think Castiel was not only Dean’s friend, but also his own, but still. He realized — again, even if Dean didn’t — that there was more between Cas and Dean. All that profound bond and what not. Sam had plenty of his own theories about what that profound bond could entail, but there was time and place for sharing such ideas with Dean. And it was neither now nor here.

Sam believed Dean would figure it out in his own time. Sam knew how to deal with his brother — if pressed, Dean would bail, not yield. Only time could convince him.

Sam just hoped they would have enough.

III.

Less than a week after Dean’s resurrection, Sam approached him to talk about the seals. Bobby and John both insisted that Dean took it easy, and Sam technically agreed, but he knew Dean was growing restless. And a restless Dean was a Dean one needed to keep an eye on.

“So the first seal is broken?” asked Sam one evening when they were sitting alone on the porch.

John hunted some witch in the nearby area and Bobby went on a grocery run, which was recently a code for “I need to do something, anything, or I will go crazy”. Sam could understand that. Angels were new for them, and their sheer existence was a whole new level of overwhelming. At least Dean didn’t have to go through the shock again. On second thought, maybe it was worse; back then, he at least had some new suspicious phenomenon to focus on. And now? Only worrying was left.

Dean nodded without looking at Sam.

“Knowing it was all planned, me breaking in Hell—” Dean said, clearing his throat, “It didn’t make it worse, but... didn’t help either. It’s just—” Dean had a thousand yard stare on his face. It didn’t suit him at all, Sam hated this expression on his brother. Dean was not fit to look pensive, it rubbed Sam all wrong to see him like that. “I still feel like I’m a puppet for them, y’know?” continued Dean, his throat sounded dry. “Doesn’t really matter if I’m a self-aware one.”

“Well, I’m sure the angels think of us as puppets,” admitted Sam. “But they don’t know everything, do they?”

Dean looked at him sharply. “What does it matter if we know,” he hissed, “if we’re still following their chosen path like a fuckin’ lambs, Sam? If we’re not gonna do anything to stop them?!” He huffed. “In the end, it makes us even worse!”

“Hey! We’re not gonna sit on our asses, Dean! What is wrong with you?!”

“Isn’t that what you wanna do? Let the seals break, free the devil, do— whatever the hell you wanna do with him?!”

Sam stood up, letting the chair fall down behind him.

“Is this what you think?” he said through gritted teeth. “That I’m gonna just ignore people dying over the seals? That I’m gonna be, what, happy about it even? Are you nuts, Dean?”

“Isn’t that exactly what you’ve told me?”

“Really, Dean?” Sam crossed his arms at his chest, exasperated. “There is just black and white with you, still? After all this time?”

Dean’s jaw twitched and his eyes regained focus. In fact, they even gleamed with some vague mischief deep inside. “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t stop to consider all the fifty shades.”

At first, Sam was getting honestly pissed. Now he just wanted to smack Dean in the head. Instead, he rolled his eyes so hard Dean could hear it.

“Really mature,” he commented.

Dean wiggled his eyebrows.

“No, but really,” he said in a tone that suggested quite the opposite, “I do want to know what’s your position on this matter.”

Sam groaned, facepalming. “I hate you so much,” he grumbled.

“Love you too, Sammy,” beamed Dean, way too satisfied with his terrible puns for Sam’s liking. But to be honest, Sam preferred that expression to this other, distant one. But it took just another moment for Dean to go back to it, unfortunately.

Sam sighed, pulled his chair back up and sat on it, letting himself enjoy the silence for a while. But in the end, he knew they had to clear this out.

“I will help you stop the seals from breaking,” he declared.

Dean shook his head, but the movement was so small Sam barely noticed it.

“Thank you, but there’s no point in your help,” said Dean and it sounded final. “Not when I know that deep down you actually want them to break. So how can I trust you’re gonna do everything in your power to help? I can’t really work with you with doubts like this in my head.”

“Dean,” said Sam immediately, having already thought this through. “I’m not just gonna sit on my ass and let innocent people die, I think you know that.” Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam held out his hand, silencing him. “No, I understand your doubts. That’s why I wanna make a deal with you.”

“Deal with me?” repeated Dean incredulously and for a moment Sam was sure he was going to hear something about Dean having made enough deals already. But Dean might have actually bitten himself in the tongue, because he grimaced and added, “What deal?”

“I do want to help you, Dean,” assured him Sam. “And I won’t half-ass saving people, never. But I also want to—” Sam sighed “try to talk to Nick again.”

“You mean Lucifer, of course.” Dean’s voice had a tiny bit of venom, but Sam chose to ignore it.

“Of course,” he said as if it was not that big of a deal.

“So where’s the middle ground, huh?”

Sam looked up and held Dean’s gaze as he made his offer, “I will do everything I can to stop the seals from breaking... all except from one. Because if it comes down again to me and Lilith on that god forsaken altar, I will kill that bitch.”

Dean observed his eyes for a long while, but Sam didn’t offer more details.

“You’re saying that I should trust you?”

Sam exhaled, enforcing calmness in himself.

“I’m saying that if you do, then I might just trust back.” He made a pause, seeing Dean frown. “Trust you not to lock me again in Bobby’s panic room right before the final countdown.”

Recognition cleared Dean’s features. Then a bit of guilt flashed through his face. Unnecessary, Sam thought, because it wasn’t a bad call back then. Hard for both of them, but not actually bad.

Finally, Dean held out his hand.

“Deal.”

“Then deal,” nodded Sam.

They shook.

IV.

When despite their best efforts the first two seals broke, it was Dean’s turn to initiate a conversation with his brother. Sam knew Dean couldn’t hold the seals against him, not when they took considerably less victims than previously. Of course they still didn’t count that as a win. There were no wins for them recently, just lesser evils. But this state of affairs was not something they could simply get used to.

“I think we both know where this is all going,” said Dean, throwing the fourth Supernatural book on his bed in anger. There were 600 possible seals and only 66 of them needed to get actually broken. There was no predicting the next target, even with the book; not when their present was already too different to be aligned with their past.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” There was nothing else Sam could offer.

Dean waved his hand. “Not your fault.”

“Still, I don’t like feeling helpless any more than you do,” said Sam. “Even if the final outcome doesn’t terrify me anymore, I truly wish the process itself could be avoided.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “I know, I believe you.”

Dean was more agreeable after he saw that Sam honestly put all his effort into helping him with the seals. He noticed Sam was trying to prove himself. When it got to the point of Sam’s third all-nighter, Dean put his foot down and forced Sam to get some sleep. He didn’t question Sam’s commitment to the case after that.

Dean sighed, “But that’s exactly why we need to talk about your plans, Sam.”

“What about them?”

“Let’s say you do this, you kill Lilith, god knows the bitch deserves it, and you open the cage, Lucifer walks free, all that jazz—” Dean waved his hand. “But what are you actually hoping for, Sam? A lovely chick-flick reunion?” Before Sam could answer, Dean shook his head and added, “No, scratch that, I don’t need to know what you hope for. If you get it, that’s good, I probably don’t need to worry. But the real question is, what if you don’t? What if the Lucifer you face is way closer to the one we met in 2009 than the one we left in 2013?”

“Don’t think I haven’t considered it,” said Sam immediately, because that thought haunted him not only every night, but also in many random moments of the day. Every time he wasn’t one hundred percent absorbed in a task at hand, actually. It was getting worse the closer it got to the denouement.

“No, I know you have.” Dean’s voice was placating, but still wary. He wasn’t scared of Sam’s carelessness or naivety. But he was loosing his mind considering Sam’s possible contingency plans. “I just need to know what you have come up with.”

Sam hesitated. Trust was not a problem, he felt quite comfortable Dean would keep this to himself if asked. But there were other factors to consider as well. Like, for example, how Dean was going to take the fact that for Sam talking to Lucifer wasn’t just a desperate shot at happily ever after. That for Sam it was all or nothing.

And when Sam said nothing, he meant nothing in the most primal way.

But he couldn’t keep Dean in the dark, not when he was asked so openly.

“Alright,” said Sam and got up from the bed where he had been reading. He took Nick’s bag from the back of the chair, reached to one of the inside pockets and pulled out a thing that stopped Dean’s heart in his chest. Dean put two and two together immediately, it all made perfect sense, but God, Dean almost wished he could remain oblivious.

“No...” he whispered, his eyes widening.

In Sam’s hand, as clear as day, were four rings of the Horseman.

“How?” he asked. It was too early, there was no Apocalypse, so there could be no Horseman, not yet, not in this time-line. And it was impossible for Sam to take them from the previous one.

Sam shrugged with a tiny humorless smile.

“I was busy when you were in Hell,” he admitted.

“But that’s not possible. How did you get them?”

Sam combed his hair in a very self-conscious manner.

“I talked to Gabriel, convinced him to point me in the right direction. The Horseman can be summoned with the appropriate spell, and I—”

“But how did you manage to convince him?” interrupted him Dean. “He would never do it from the goodness of his heart.”

“God no,” huffed Sam, amused. “But he’s is a Trickster and I had a good bargaining chip.”

“Huh?”

“Entertainment, Dean,” sighed Sam, “I told him what I had with Nick/Lucifer before we got back in time, I told him what I plan to do, and it sent him rolling on the floor laughing.” Sam rolled his eyes at the memory. “I mean, he is freaking certain I’m gonna fail and he told me as much, but, quoting him “ Seeing you try to domesticate Lucifer? I’m not gonna miss it for the world!”. So yeah, Trickster stuff. Also, I think he’s still certain, despite everything we’ve told him, that the end of the world can’t be avoided, so he just wants to get the best show out of it.”

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it, and then frowned.

“This is insane.”

Sam hmmed, shrugging. “Yeah, and ridiculous. Completely believable though.”

“Yeah, that sounds just like him. But still, Sam...” Dean’s more serious expression was back. “The rings?”

Sam put the bag back on the chair, then put his hands on the table to prevent the fidgeting.

“What can I say, Dean? I knew what I was doing when I started this thing, and I’m not gonna avoid the consequences if anything goes wrong.”

Dean jumped up from his bed.

“But Sam, you didn’t start anything! I did!”

“And we both know that’s not exactly true,” replied Sam stiffly. “I wanted it to happen, I still do. And if it all goes—“ Sam cut himself off and swallowed. He glanced down to avoid Dean’s piercing stare, and finished in a whisper, “If it all goes to hell, so will I.”

“No.”

“You know I can win with Lucifer again,” said Sam.

“That’s not the point! I don’t care if you can! We can’t go though this again, Sam! What’s the fucking point of the second chance if we keep making the same goddamn mistakes?!”

“I think we changed plenty.” Sam’s eyes were hard. “If I didn’t honestly believe that, I wouldn’t keep pursuing it, Dean. This, “ Sam held up the rings, “this is my contingency plan, nothing more. Because my plan A will always involve getting through that thick skull of Lucifer, convincing him that he was bloody right, that we are M-F-E-O. That even back then, he got the end right, just fucked up the means.”

Dean massaged temples with his fingers. “This is crazy,” he murmured, but didn’t look like he was about to argue with Sam. Quite the contrary, he might have even gotten a bit convinced. He wouldn’t admit it yet, Sam knew he needed to mull it over for some time, but when Dean stopped fighting it was usually the first step to getting his acceptance. The finishing line was still far-off, but there was a fitting saying about a thousand miles journey and its beginning.

So Sam just nodded at that comment.

“Yeah,” he replied. “But there is not a chance in hell that I could ever win with a plan that’s sane.”

The worst thing was, Dean could only agree. And wasn’t that the best summary of their road so far?

V.

Dean took the gulf between John and Sam way harder than Sam himself. John wasn’t talking to Sam at this point, he resorted to casting him grim glances if they had to be in each other’s presence. He did stay in regular contact with Dean though; Sam was aware of his not so subtle attempts at hinting that Dean should reconsider his trust in Sam. John’s hints got even more obvious when he realized how crappy Dean was at reading between the lines. What he didn’t know was that Dean ignored his warnings entirely on purpose. Dean just didn’t want any arguments, he kept playing stupid. He wasn’t book-smart like Sam, which made people underestimate him a lot. He wasn’t above using that for his own gain.

Sam never made that mistake anymore. When they were younger, yeah, that happened sometimes, but for the last several years? Dean couldn’t remember any single incident. Sam would tease him about not knowing a fancy word or mispronouncing a name of a very posh n-century painter, but when it came to actual decision making — they were on even ground. Sure they argued, yelled at each other and even occasionally kicked each other’s asses, but neither of them thought he was better than the other.

After many years of frictions, going our separate ways and joining forces again, we actually grew to be quite a good team, mused Dean.

Unfortunately, John stayed the same, which meant Dean was stuck between a rock and a hard place; it wasn’t that terrible as long as John and Sam were simply not talking. That was tense, but tense he could bear. Dean just worried about how an open war was going to look like. In his opinion, once was enough for a lifetime. He didn’t need the new version of Sammy-leaving-to-college experience.

John seemed pretty sure such a thing was coming. Dean saw the schism brewing too; the key difference was that John also seemed convinced that if Sam snapped, Dean would go back to hunting with him. Dean on the other hand... Dean was not so sure of that at all. In fact, he was not sure of anything recently.

All in all, Adam was not the last straw, but he was definitely the penultimate one. Unfortunately, this matter couldn’t be ignored forever (though Dean would be ignominiously happy to do so), so at some randomly chosen day before the ghouls could get to the Milligan household, Dean asked John to meet.

Technically there was nothing that prevented him from bringing up this topic years ago, but Dean gladly threw it into a specially designed ‘denial’ drawer at the back of his head. But now, the time has come to dig it up.

Dean might have been able to suppress his disappointment with John for a long-long time, but once it was out, it was out.

As soon as John sat down at their table in the diner, Dean shot:

“We need to talk about my brother.”

Dean started with the short temper. He spent the last days mentally prepping himself for the conversation, but the only result was that his nerves were already frayed before John even said a word.

“Yeah,” agreed John easily, “I tried telling you before that Sam—”

Dean cut him off, “My other brother.”

He let the silence that followed speak for itself. John was thrown off guard, but he composed himself quickly.

“What are you talk—?” he started, but Dean was quicker.

“Don’t,” he stopped him mid-sentence. His hand tightened into a first under the table. “I know. Sam knows. End of story.”

Dean hoped it really would be, because he didn’t have any plausible lie for how they found out.

John tightened his jaw and it was such a Sam-like gesture that a strange wave of wistfulness hit Dean in the chest. Weird how two people can be so similar and yet so fundamentally different at the same time.

“I just—” began John, suddenly way more honest and raw than just a moment before, “I just don’t know what to tell you.”

Dean sighed, but his eyes remained firm.

“I don’t want you to tell me anything. What I needed to know, I’ve found out already.” Whatever John wanted to add, Dean’s glare told him to keep it. “No dad, really, spare me the bullshit. What happened, happened. And I’m not a delusional twelve year old anymore, I know all too well you’re not without flaws.”

Yeah, maybe Dean was just waiting to say that to John for quite some time; so what, sue him.

He gulped down his black coffee and stood up, leaving John crestfallen at the table.

“Maybe it’s time to start owning up to it,” said Dean. “Or at least time to stop giving Sam so much shit about his own choices.”

He was about to leave, when John’s hiss stopped him.

“That’s not the same!” John barely stopped himself from banging his fist on the table; Dean noticed the twitch.

Dean turned around to face him and raised his eyebrow very pointedly.

“Isn’t it?” he asked flatly.

He didn’t care for the reply, he simply left.

Surely by that time next day they would be back to completely not talking about this matter. Dean was fine with it. Nevertheless, the hoped that he prompted John to check on the Milligans and update their security. If Dean found them, surely John’s enemies would be able to find them as well.

To be on the safe side though, Dean quietly asked Castiel for help too. As a result, Adam and Kate became unaware bearers of some creepy enochian rib-tattoos. Dean was pretty sure it would suffice.

VI.

Sam never liked the “Monster at the End of This Book” chapter in the fourth Supernatural novel. Admittedly, the books were useful, but dammit, Sam really would prefer to remain unaware of the cosplayers, and fandom, and Wincest. Brr.

Destiel though, well, Sam could maybe even say he... what was that called again? Something with a boat... Oh yeah, he shipped it. A bit. But to avoid being brutally murdered by Dean, Sam would never say it out loud. Dean was getting there. Slowly, yes, but they had time. Castiel was basically immortal and he would surely visit Dean in Heaven even after they passed, so... (uh, yeah, Sam believed there was a possibility it was going to take that long).

Anyway, Sam disliked this chapter in the past-time version of the book and he was sure to dislike it in the present version as well. At least retrospectively.

The motel was different and the general circumstances as well, but Lilith cornered him alone anyway.

It was one of the few hunts recently that John insisted to share with them, for reasons he wouldn’t disclose. To be fair though, Sam didn’t particularly care; it was just annoying that he and Dean had to be careful with words around John. Also, things between John and Dean felt strained for the past days, but Sam didn’t want to get into that, and Dean seemed glad with this decision.

No sooner did Dean and John leave the room than Lilith appeared right before Sam. It was laughable how confident she felt in Sam’s presence, how assured that he was still unable to do her serious harm. Little did she know about the archangel’s blood in Sam’s veins — the blood that immediately brought all his demonic abilities to their peak. Sam had no idea how it worked and he was very determined not to ask.

Also, with Jesse on Sam’s side, Lilith was ridiculously overpowered; Sam knew it, and Jesse knew it, and they just basked in her ignorance. What was the point of having the upper hand if you didn’t let yourself enjoy it?

“Sam,” purred Lilith in such a way that Sam was tempted to make Jesse leave the room. Jesse was technically an adult and could handle some sexual subtext, but then again it wasn’t exactly a subtext with Lilith; the way she looked at Sam bordered on R-rated at least.

“I’ve come bearing gifts,” she said, reaching with her hand to pet him on the cheek. She was not prepared for his reaction.

Sam threw her onto the nearest wall with a mere flicker of his wrist.

“You want a deal, I know,” he said looking right into her surprised eyes. She felt the power she had not expected, and his calmness only helped her realize that she had missed something crucial. “I’m not interested,” he added.

“You don’t know what I’m gonna offer,” she protested.

He shrugged, “I know that you want to live. I can’t help you with that.” The desire to kill her still circled underneath his skin. He couldn’t wait to burn her down to ashes, and made sure she could hear the eagerness in his voice, see it on his face. More importantly, that she could feel it on her flesh that he already had the power to deliver.

“You fool!” she yelled in desperation. “You have no idea who’s really pulling the strings here!” Madness gleamed in her eyed; she struggled to get away from the wall, but Sam just flickered his wrist again, pushing her back.

“Not so fast,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill you now.” He lowered his voice, letting the darker tunes come out and play.

She licked her lips, challenging him. “I wanna see you try.”

Sam smirked and pushed her again. The invisible force pounded her into the wall harder, until it it creaked behind her body. She screamed and Sam listened, enjoyed it as if he was a conductor of a brutal symphony.

Possibly not a best role model for an impressionable youth, he thought as he glanced at Jesse. But Jesse stood calm beside him and did not look impressionable in the slightest. In fact, his face was completely blank and devoid of emotion, as per usual. Some would find it disconcerting, but Sam was too busy choking the pride out of a demon to judge.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Sam warned her, giving her a break and letting her slide down the wall. “But we both know that killing you right now would be... counterproductive.”

Lilith locked her eyes with him, freezing in the purest shock. She took in his power, his conviction, and his coolness, and whispered:

“Impossible... Did she really tell you?”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Who?”

“Don’t play with me, I know this bitch is ‘helping’ you!” she hissed. “Ruby!”

Sam chuckled, not holding back.

“Ruby?” he repeated with honest disbelief. “Honey,” he huffed, condescending, “I’m sorry to inform you I killed her months ago.” Oh, he did love the confusion on her face. “I grabbed Ruby’s knife, looked her in the eye and put it right in her fake demonic heart. And then I stood there and looked at her squirming, choking and burning,” he drawled, taking great pleasure in describing the memory.

Killing Ruby on the first sight of her? Best choice ever. Especially that he got to enjoy all the emotions on her face, the sudden realization that all her plans have fallen through before she even started implementing them.

This small win did not make his past fucked-up decisions right, but boy did it feel good.

And now the piling confusion on Lilith’s face was just a cherry on top.

“So how do you—?”

“Does it really matter?” stopped her Sam, growing impatient. “Just get the hell out of here, you’re getting no deal.”

He saw the moment it hit her. She was thrown off balance before, but now her lips widened in an unsettling smile that was meant to send chills down his spine. It didn’t work, but she got kudos for trying.

“Well well well,” she drawled, “I wouldn’t believe it had I not seen it myself...” She shook her head in a theatrical manner, and Sam was just getting annoyed. “It looks like our Boy-King is up for the position, who would have thought...”

“I think you have bigger concerns on your mind right now.” Like, for example, her incoming and inevitable death.

“Oh, but it’s so fascinating!” she squeaked in a sulfur-sprinkled glee. “So you want to free Lucifer, Sammy, the Devil himself... How does it feel to knowingly betray everything your family ever stood for?”

He tightened his fist and made her feel it. She screamed, her body pressed back into the wall that creaked louder and harder, but the outburst of pain was soon replaced by maniacal laughter that filled her whole body. She shook and roared, always guffawing when she could spare a breath.

Sam stood before her with jaw tight, refusing to answer in any other manner. He wasn’t betraying anybody, he assured himself. Dean knew about his plans; it wasn’t a betrayal then. Right? If Dean completely disagreed, he would surely put his foot down, draw the line at some point. But Sam had a feeling Dean was actually gonna let him try and carry his insane plan through.

In the back of his mind there always lurked this piercing doubt that Dean was just biding his time, waiting for the opportunity to lock Sam in Bobby’s panic room. That he was gonna tell him it was all for Sam’s own good. Sam refused to acknowledge that this was an actual option, that this may still happen.

Dean surely wouldn’t betray him in such way. Not when he had to be aware that Sam... Sam would never forgive him. Not in a thousand years, not in a million. There would be no atonement, no remedy. If Dean, despite knowing all these facts, still made that choice, then well. It would be an informed one. And Sam would definitely enforce all the consequences. But dear God, the process would rip him apart.

Living with Dean on the opposite side? That was no life at all.

“See you soon,” he reminded Lilith finally, and just banished her with a simple gesture.

Sam glanced at Jesse, who in turn glanced at him, and he mentally kicked himself in the ass. He shouldn’t loose his cool around Jesse like that. The kid might seem unaffected, but Sam just didn’t want to be that guy; the guy who lets emotions cloud his judgment.

He had still much to work on, he knew.

On the other side of the motel door stood John, frozen to the spot. He had to get back for the keys, and that one simple act of forgetfulness on his part just turned into the breakthrough he had been waiting for. He never got to crossing the threshold, and yet he had gathered enough.

Through the window outside, he noticed Lilith. Through the misaligned and untight door he heard her scream, and threaten and laugh. He heard her offer and her questions. Finally, he heard Sam. Heard every single word, and all that was said between the lines as well.

John wasn’t surprised when Sam’s plans became clear, not like Lilith. Demons were short-sighed, their minds one-tracked. But John had suspected it before, felt it in his bones, but also saw it with his own eyes; in Sam’s every choice ever since he left for that ridiculous college. John had seen it coming for so goddamn long.

He was not the father of the year, but he was no monster — John decided he couldn’t burden Dean with this. No, Dean still had too many feelings, too much hope in his heart. He would always grasp at straws when it came to Sam.

But John? John had accepted a long time ago that for Sam there was simply no hope. And now when he had all the proof he needed, there was no doubt in his mind.

John knew exactly what had to be done.

VII.

6.34 AM

[Incoming Call]

[Bobby calling]

Groan. Rustling of sheets. Buttons pressed.

“...Bobby? What’s wrong?”

“Dean, is Sam with you?”

“...no, he’s gotta take care of something on his own, why?”

“Get your ass movin’ and go find him, Dean!”

“Listen Bobby, I don’t care what dad told you about Sam, I’m not gonna do anything against him.”

“Well that’s wonderful, princess, but maybe it’s time to consider who will.”

“... what do you mean?”

“I mean, Dean, that John just called me. He didn’t say anything specific, just that— I needn’t worry, it’s gonna be over soon. I didn’t like the way he sounded, Dean.”

“Christ.”

Grumble. Quick, heavy steps. Rustle of clothes.

“Thanks Bobby, I’m gonna— I’m gonna find Sam.”

“Call me when you do.”

VIII.

John ran into the the ruins of St. Mary’s convent where he knew Sam just entered. His younger son came alone, as John expected. It was perfect, convenient. John wanted to keep Dean out of this, and Sam played right in.

John passed the narrow hallway full of bodies. It seemed that people died when Sam used his powers to exorcise demons; it wasn’t surprising. Monstrous powers lead to monstrous deeds, as expected.

Superficially John wished it could be different — that the one destined to free Lucifer were anyone but his own son; but deep inside he felt that all the puzzle pieces fit right in. He had sensed this darkness in Sam before, had been afraid of it ever since Sam had been a mere infant, and as he’d been growing up, John had started keeping track. But he couldn’t pass this final judgement when there was even a shred of doubt.

Fortunately, the situation cleared up in time. John could proceed. And even though his heart was heavy, his conscience would remain clear.

John ran through the hallway, approaching the altar and everything that was happening around it. Lilith shrieked, her chest burning with blazing fiery light, while Sam stood over her, controlling her agony. It was an execution, plain and simple. Lilith didn’t even struggle, the will to fight left her and John felt confident in guessing why. The bitch gladly sacrificed her life to free her master, thought John. And Sam looked happy to act as the master of ceremony.

John breathed out in relief that he didn’t arrive too late.

“Sam!” he yelled, crossing the wooden door. He barged into the room, distracting Sam as a result. Lilith shut up and fell flat to the floor, as if unconscious. John couldn’t believe his own luck — since she was down, he could safely turn his focus to Sam and Sam only; at least for now.

“Dad?” Sam turned around to face him. John noticed his surprise with relief. Sam hadn’t anticipated him showing up. All the better.

“Sam, I can’t let you do this,” said John taking out his gun and clicking the safety off. Sam’s forehead landed right opposite the muzzle. John looked above the sight of the gun and saw Sam’s eyes widening in freezing realization.

“Dad, you don’t—!” began Sam, breathless and suddenly desperate, but John came here aware that if any window appeared, he would have to leap at it. And catching Sam with his guard down was the best chance he could dream of.

John might not be the youngest hunter anymore, but he did not live till this age by being a stupid one. You kill first, ask questions later, or even better — never. That was his philosophy, the one he tried to ingrain in his boys. All because it was safe, and always better safe than sorry.

And in this situation? Make no mistake. It didn’t matter whom he was hunting — it was still just a hunt. And no sane hunter negotiates with a monster.

Dean let go of Castiel’s arm as soon as they teleported. He would’ve had no chance of making it on time, but Castiel agreed as soon as he asked.

Dean froze when he noticed John’s old car in front of the convent. Was he too late, despite the help? His mind turned blank. Dean broke into a run, but could literally not think. What was he afraid to see? What did he hope for? The best, the worst case scenario, what did they look like? Where was the line? How far would Sam go? How far would John?

Only questions, but no answers. Dean feared to even guess. He raced into the ruins, and the adrenaline soared in his veins. He felt he was moving slow and exceptionally fast at the same time. Everything he went past flashed in the corners of his eyes; later he wouldn’t recall the appearance of any single thing in the hallway. His eyes immediately zoomed in on John’s back.

The past images jumped to the forefront of his mind. It happened all over again. Dean, in this god forsaken hallway, too far away to accomplish anything.

“Dad!” yelled Dean, trying to catch his attention, but to no avail. Then Sam, now John, turning his back on him, deaf to his outcries. Dean moved again, desperate to make it in time.

In time for what — he was frightened to even consider.

“Dad, you don’t—!” Dean managed to hear Sam’s voice, cut off by the unmistakable sound of the gunshot.

Dean’s heart stopped, but his legs did not. He charged into the room, riveting his eyes to the altar. But his eyes misled him. It could not be true. Dean turned to John, took in his figure. Dean’s ears rang. John’s lips moved, he spoke, but Dean wasn’t able to hear. There was this noise in his head, like a rumble of a sea wave, flooding his mind, taking away the clarity. Or was that the throbbing of his own pulse, Dean realized, when he tried to recall how to take a breath.

“Dean! Dean!” shouted John, which Dean noticed only after a longer while, when his body reminded itself to function. Dean blinked, licked his lips, and forced himself to take his eyes off Sam.

Or rather, off Sam’s body.

He lay on the floor, not far from Lilith. Whether she had been dead or not, Dean couldn’t care less. But there could be no doubt about Sam. His limbs were spread on the floor, eyes still open in the purest expression of shock Dean had ever seen. Lilith’s dress, once white, was now splattered with blood. Blood, which was not hers; not when Dean could see clear as day that within the red splashes there was more than just liquid substance. There were fragments of...

Dean felt sick, deep down to the stomach, he bent himself and covered his mouth. He focused on breathing. He closed his eyes, he couldn’t see, wouldn’t see. Seeing’s what made it real.

The lifeless stare, the lumps of what could only be brain, the remains of Sam’s occipital bone, all shaped in a macabre trail stretching from his head.

Dean’s mind cleared, even if his stomach did not. He was looking at John, and the order of events put itself together in Dean’s brain.

Sam was dead. And in John’s hand there was an honest to god, actual smoking gun. Dean could almost physically feel his life falling apart.

He had no idea how he managed to find his voice again.

“You killed him,” Dean said the obvious, desperate to hear John’s denial, even though it happened right before his own eyes. But he had to hear it was not true, it couldn’t be.

“Dean...” John’s voice said it all. It did not sound like shock, nor like guilt. It was the let-me-explain tone, and Dean was not ready to hear the explanation.

In fact, he would never be ready. What’s more, he would never, ever, give a bloody shit about any explanation, there was none that could ever suffice as an excuse. Not for this. Never for this.

Years ago, in the previous lifetime, John said Dean would have to either save Sam or kill him. And Dean accepted this burden, but not because he wanted to, or understood John’s intentions. No. He accepted because he was both too stupid and too young. Too young and stupid to know himself, to truly understand his own relationship with Sam. How naive Dean was to ever think he could sacrifice Sam, and for what? Some greater good?

This Dean, the Dean who saved the world not once, not twice, not who-the-fuck-even-counts-by-this-point many times, this Dean did not give a flying fuck about the greater good, any good, not when it had to top Sam in the list of his priorities.

There was nothing more important than Sam. Heaven? Hell? God? Who the fuck cared. Not even Castiel made it further, though he could claim the reputable second place. But there was fuckton of blank space afterwards.

Sometimes Dean did not understand his own priorities until the real life came knocking. He hadn’t known Sam was that important to him, not until he was forced to choose. He hadn’t thought Castiel made it that far to the top before his existence was threatened.

And now, when he stood before John, Dean realized how far up was his dad. The answer was, not that far at all. In fact, way below the blank space.

His ears regained the connection to his brain. He heard John hurry him.

“Dean,” repeated John in a patient voice that was on the verge of loosing this patience. “We need to take care of Lilith, I don’t know how long she’ll be out. She’s the last seal, she needs to be kept away from here. We can’t kill her, but we can lock her up. Or maybe we can kill her, but not here, not when we want to avoid...” continued John, but Dean was too busy with not giving a fuck what he had to say.

“Shut up,” he snapped at last. It was unexpected, so it worked. John fell silent, but only for a second. Dean acted before he opened his mouth again though.

“I said shut up!” he repeated stronger, staring John down, demanding obedience. John might have been a fine hunter, but compared to Dean? He was third-class at best. And Dean conveyed that class difference in this eyes.

But John didn’t notice that the rules changed. That it was Dean who took the reins.

“Be careful how you speak to me, son!” growled John through the clenched teeth. “You’ve been blinded by your love to your brother, so much that you couldn’t see what became of him, even though it happened right in front of you!” John pointed his gun towards Lilith. “ She is the last seal, Dean!” he explained, as if talking to a child. “He knew it!” John looked Dean right in the eye, and said with morbid conviction, “I know it’s hard to accept, but I did what had to be done!”

Dean shook his head before John even finished. He heard all the words, but didn’t pay any attention, they all had no meaning to him. John might as well be talking gibberish, Dean’s mind was already somewhere else entirely.

Dean’s eyes circled the room. The sacrificial altar, the ceremonial cup, the first demon. The puddles of Sam’s gore. Sam’s corpse, his mutilated skull. And the glimpse of metal on Sam’s whitening neck.

“What are you doing?!” demanded John, which Dean ignored in favor of taking a few steps and kneeling next to Sam. He realized what had happened. When Sam fell, lifeless, the chain had worn tucked under his shit had gotten free. The chain still hung on Sam’s neck, but the ring that was on it touched the dirty wooden floor above Sam’s shoulder.

Dean reached for it. Plain metal, silver, no visible ornaments. Dean leaned over Sam and raised the ring a bit, to look inside. Just like he thought, he noticed an inscription.

I will never lie to you.

He had read the damn books. He recognized the line. Dean closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the cold ring in his hand.

“What is it, Dean?” John took a step towards him.

“Don’t come any closer,” stopped him Dean, his fingers tightening on the chain.

“Dean...”

Dean dropped the chain and got up, all in one swift move. He turned to John sharply.

“You think you did what had to be done?” Dean sounded like he’d just made a decision. The dark notes in his voice should have warned John. But Dean’s movements were too quick for John; he never stood a chance. “No dad,” corrected him Dean, right before he acted. “ I am doing what has to be done.”

In one smooth move Dean grabbed his gun by the barrel and knocked John out with its grip. He didn’t bother to ease John’s fall, no. He let John go down like an unwanted puppet.

Dean left John behind on the floor and approached the altar. Lilith. Still unconscious, up for the taking. So he took. He grabbed her by the long blond hair, dropped his gun to the floor and reached for the other one — the Colt, resting safely inside his jacket. He put it to her forehead and shot, with no hesitation. The shot reverberated in the room.

For a maddening long moment nothing happened. Dean could take this time to consider the implications of what he had just done. But he didn’t. Because whatever the consequences, it wouldn’t change his choices. He cared for one thing and one thing only — Sam’s life.

Dean was — and always would be — prepared to do anything to get it back.

Anything.

Lilith’s blood started flowing across the floor, rounding into a full circle. Dean stayed calm, but focused.

Let’s get this show on the road, he thought as the light rose from the floor to the ceiling, blinding him.

The Cage was opened.

Chapter Text

Lilith's blood started flowing across the floor, rounding into full circle. Dean stayed calm, but focused.

Let's get this show on the road, he thought as the light rose from the floor to the ceiling, blinding him.

The Cage was opened.

I.

Dean knelt beside Sam and took his brother's pale chin in his hand. It was cold. Looking into Sam's empty pupils left a hollow feeling in his chest, but Dean didn't close Sam's eyes. His chose to close his own instead. The light flooding the room got too bright and he needed to focus.

Lucifer, he began loud and clear in his thoughts, I'm not sure you can hear me in your current state. I'm gonna try anyway. Listen, I need Sam back, pronto. You probably want him back too, but I'm not waiting till you get round to choosing your meatsuit. So for now, you can borrow mine. Limited time offer. What d'ya say?

Dean didn't give himself time to stop and consider whether or not he was making the worst decision of his life. Either his clear priorities made the choice easier or he was getting more reckless with age. History would judge.

Dean didn't know if he should expect an answer or not. So he stayed focused and waited. He was determined not to miss the sign, if any appeared. In the end, it proved impossible to overlook.

He felt it from within, the heat wave that took over his body. It didn't hurt, not physically at least, but his mind was not comfortable. Like a glaring red error in his head, Lucifer's presence felt like an intrusion, despite Dean's invitation. It was just as if he was thrown into high school locker while in his current adult body — he was squeezed, his limbs contorted, he almost couldn't breathe. But the tightness came from the inside, while his lungs and chest functioned perfectly.

Dean hoped Lucifer was at least just as uncomfortable in this situation as he was.

Dean's body moved without his say-so, which was weird and unnatural, and everything in Dean wanted to fight against it. But no, his literally asked for it, agreed to it. He could try and wait to see what Lucifer chose to do before staging a strike.

Dean's eyes focused on Sam's corpse.

"Sam..." his mouth whispered in a strange voice that simultaneously did and did not belong to him.

His hand moved to Sam's forehead, then smoothly ran across his skin to Sam's chin in a way Dean would never touch his brother. Sam's skin bent under Dean's fingers. Dean was about to protest the creepy intimacy when he felt Lucifer's power flowing though his arm toward Sam.

The blood that was splashed around the room remained in place, but it quickly became the only indicator that a dead body was ever there. With every passing second Sam's skin got warmer and warmer in Dean's hand, and his face began regaining its natural colors. This process ended with a sharp breath that went right into Sam's lungs as he sprung up to a sitting position, while almost hitting Dean with his forehead.

"Dean?" asked Sam when his vision cleared and he blinked right into his brother's green eyes.

"Guess again," replied Dean, who wasn't exactly Dean at the time. From the inside of his head it sounded really confusing. But apparently Sam didn't find it hard to put two and two together. His lips parted in shock.

"You freed me," observed Lucifer-in-Dean's-voice before Sam could say a word.

"I—" Sam furrowed his eyebrows, trying to focus. "No, no I didn't—" he said, recalling the moments before his death. Sam licked his pale lips, looking into Dean's-but-actually-Lucifer's eyes. "But I wanted to."

Dean's lips widened into a half smile as he leaned over to whisper right into Sam's ear. His fingers wandered up Sam's neck and curled into his hair, holding Sam's head steady. "The will is everything."

Sam was going to pretend later that his pupils did not widen and his heart did not leap. Fortunately, before his body could betray him any further, Dean-or-Lucifer let go of him and stood up.

"I'll be back," he promised and the light just flew away from Dean's body, dissolving into nothingness.

Dean bent in half and coughed harshly, as if he just gagged.

"Jesus," he rasped, wiping his mouth on the cuff of his jacket. "Never again."

"Dean—" Sam closed his mouth, since apparently it got disconnected from his brain for a moment. "What the fuck?" he choked, completely dumbfounded.

He looked around, barely connecting the dots. Lilith was lying behind him— but no, that was only her body now. Sam noticed the circle formed from her blood on the floor. A few meters further there was John, but with no blood around him. Probably only knocked out then. Sam felt a tiny bit of guilt for being relieved at that sight. At least he didn't have to talk to him.

Dean shrugged, straightening his back. "What? Desperate times, Sam."

"Was that really Lucifer?" Sam waved his hand vaguely.

"...yeah."

"Did you—" Sam stopped himself again, and corrected: "Who did—?" He looked at Lilith's body helplessly.

"I did," admitted Dean. His face was a blank page. Sam couldn't decide if Dean was ashamed, or proud, or maybe completely indifferent to what he chose to do.

So Sam only managed a quiet: "Why?"

It must have been the right question, because Dean fell silent. He turned around, looked at Sam, and combed his hair in a very un-Dean-like self-conscious manner.

"I realized I went about it all wrong, Sammy," he said and he sounded so apologetic that Sam chose to completely ignore the childish nickname. "I spent all this time trying to decide what side you are going to end up on..."

Sam took a step towards Dean, reaching to his arm in a conciliation.

"I know that, Dean, we've talked about it, it's—"

"No, Sam!" Dean pushed Sam's hand away, but stayed firmly in his spot. He looked as if it actually pained him to speak. "What I should have done instead— I should have been thinking what side I am gonna end up on..."

"What are you—?" Sam raised his eyebrows, confused.

"And it's your side, Sammy," continued Dean, and he said it so sincerely that Sam's mouth just closed itself. "It's always gonna be your side, Sammy," repeated Dean.

Sam realized he had tears welling up in his eyes. He refused to let them flow, because he was a Winchester and Winchesters did not— scratch that; the tears ended up on his cheeks anyway.

"I'm always gonna be on your side too, Dean," promised Sam in return and his voice broke just a tiny-tiny bit.

They stood just a step away from each other. Sam, covered in his own blood, with the remnants of his own gray matter on the back of his collar, and Dean with the adrenaline still too high in his veins, overflown with fury (at John), relief (for Sam's sake), and embarrassment (because there seemed to be no end to the chick-flick moments!). Sam finally broke this awkward-staring-at-each-other contest and went for a hug, not really caring if he had to force his brother into it. Dean was a big guy, he could take some emotion. Dean sighed, feeling his muscles relax just a bit in Sam's arms, but he would put Alastair's torture to shame if anybody revealed how much comfort he took from Sam's presence.

When the hug was over, Dean cleared his throat and brushed some invisible dust off his sleeve. Sam smiled under his breath.

But then his eyes circled the floor again. He let out a tense breath and cleared his throat too.

"So..." Sam swallowed. "What do we do about John?"

II.

In the end Dean grabbed John's cell phone, called 911.

"St. Mary's Convent. There's an unconscious man inside," informed Dean succinctly and left the cell on John's chest, ignoring further inquiries coming from the operator.

Sam also left John in there without a second thought.

Sam didn't expect to see Castiel waiting in front of the convent. The angel approached as soon as they went out.

"I felt Lucifer rise," he said grimly. He seemed defeated, looked as if all was truly lost. "You didn't stop him!" he accused Dean while shooting a glare at Sam. As if Sam was at fault here.

"No, but John did." Dean couldn't keep the bitterness at bay. The words were spit out.

"So how then—?" Cas seemed confused.

"I opened the Cage," revealed Dean. There was no remorse, no hesitation. Only challenge. Castiel's eyes filled with a sense of betrayal.

"You said you were going to stop the Apocalypse!" he accused. Castiel couldn't believe it, the righteous man shouldn't have—! He trusted him, he trusted Dean Winchester, and because of that it hurt so much more.

"I'm still gonna do it, Cas!" Dean grabbed Castiel's shoulder, and shook it. "Cas, look at me!" he prompted.

Castiel moved his eyes to meet Dean's. "You lied to me."

"I didn't." Dean shook his head. "Cas please, you gotta believe me. The plan is still a go."

"We're all helpless against Lucifer, Dean. Stopping Lilith from opening the Cage was our only way. And now you are going to find out what Heaven really has in store for you."

Sam wasn't good at reading Castiel, at least not this one. Not yet. So he couldn't really tell whether it was a threat, or a warning, or maybe just worry for their sake. But apparently Dean had no problem with deciphering Castiel's intentions.

He gripped Castiel's arm tighter and refused to look away.

"Cas, I'm asking you. Please, trust me."

And even though Castiel still seemed convinced Dean just doomed them all, to Sam's surprise he replied:

"Alright, Dean. I will."

III.

Bobby's yard was the place Sam thought as home when his mind wandered towards his childhood memories. Other than Impala, that is. He never cared that Bobby's house could use some renovations, it was still way more homey than countless musty motel rooms. In his grown years he's had some other homes as well, the Bunker in Lebanon or the house in Kermit, the one he'd shared with Lucifer. But pulling over and driving into the Salvage Yard for Sam still carried the significance of coming home.

There was no particular moment when Sam stopped caring what John thought of him, it simply happened at some point over thousands of arguments and misunderstandings, and one day Sam slammed the door behind himself and simply realized how deeply he did not give a damn. But Bobby was a different matter altogether — still one of few people who could make Sam feel like a unruly kid, make him look down to the floor and reconsider his behavior. Probably that is why Sam felt so uneasy when Impala came to a halt right before the entrance to Bobby's house.

"He's gonna ask questions we can't avoid any longer," said Sam with one hand on the Impala's door handle.

"So we're gonna have to give him some answers," replied Dean and got out without hesitation. Sam wished he could approach this matter with such ease. Or maybe Dean just put on a brave face; it would be such a Dean thing to do. Fake it till you make it.

"Dean, Sam," greeted them Bobby in the door. Then glanced at their contorted expressions and added, "Where's John?"

Sam went inside praying Dean would take care of this first issue.

"He crossed the line, Bobby," said Dean, his voice tough and steady. It was decided — John was never going to be the same in Dean's eyes. Bobby must have heard it too, because he closed the door behind them and asked, just as grim as Dean:

"What did he do?" As if he had no doubts that John indeed went too far, he just had to find out how far was that exactly.

Dean glanced at Sam in silence. He waited, unsure. Sam sighed and cleared his throat.

"He killed me, Bobby."

IV.

"Is it true?" was Bobby's one and only question when John arrived at the yard about a day later.

Getting out of his car, John froze like a deer in headlights. Bobby noticed the realization flooding over his face. John shot a glare at Bobby's house, now sure his sons were inside. Only Bobby himself was standing in the way of John barging inside.

Usually, the oldest Winchester would be welcomed at all times. But not this time.

Bobby tightened his grip on the shotgun. It was pointed down on the ground, not on John, and yet the gesture clearly showed that Bobby wanted an answer. And he would get it before John took even a step further.

"Is it true?" repeated Bobby, hissing through his teeth.

Honestly, he could hardly believe Dean's words. Or rather, he wanted to not believe them, but the evidence spoke for itself. Evidence that was not only the boys' words — which Bobby was also inclined to trust before John's — but also Bobby's own observations. He'd been gathering them for months or even years now. It was old news that John and Sam rarely saw eye to eye, but recently? Recently it got beyond an ordinary family feud, it grew bigger, just as the dangers they faced grew badder and stronger. It stopped being the matter of angry silences and slamming doors, and became the matter of taking the opposite sides. In the war.

And Bobby? Bobby did not sign up for this shit.

He wasn't blind, he saw with his own eyes the change that Sam went though. A little sharper around the edges, less puppy-eyes, more deadly grins and sinister looks. Less research, more action. And finally, less doubts, more determination.

But there were two sides of this coin. Sam and Dean— they still argued, alright. Bobby heard the tense voices over the phones when they called him while separated. The shouting matches that oftentimes happened directly under Bobby's own roof. These boys were stubborn mules, both of them, and their disagreements were nothing short of spectacular. But all things considered, in the end they worked together as a team.

Even if, to add it all up, Sam and Dean argued way more frequently than Sam and John did, the fights were completely different. The goal was different. Sam and John fought only until one of them decided to leave — the room, the house, the life. After their shouting matches nothing changed. No new thoughts got sowed, no previous actions reconsidered. Only ever the bitter status quo got reinforced.

With Dean though, it was a different matter altogether. Bobby respected John's boys — who were his boys too — for how they grew. They still shouted, but learned to listen as well. They still enforced their own opinions, but learned to open their minds; they allowed themselves to be convinced otherwise, if somewhat grudgingly.

And in the end, they waited inside the house, arm in arm, while John faced Bobby's shotgun on the porch.

"There was no saving him!" barked John at last. It was obvious he really believed that. Bobby stood there, towering above him, unable to decide whether that made matters better or worse.

"He seems pretty saved to me," he grumbled.

John's eyes widened.

"So he did it," he mumbled to himself. "But it's not possible, I killed him before he could break the last seal! There was no other way to free the Devil, and I stopped him!"

One day before, Bobby was jut as confused as John when he welcomed his foster sons inside. Dean did not wait for the barrage of questions, he put everything out in the open as soon as they crossed the threshold.

"What I'm going to tell you, must remain between us. Promise, Bobby," he demanded right at the start, and Bobby sighed in relief, because it meant the real answers were coming. Bobby never had problems with confidentiality, he could keep his mouth shut, especially when it was important. And the look in Dean's eyes promised some high-level crucial hush-hush stuff. Finally. Bobby had been feeling out of a loop for a while now. It was time to get some info.

What he heard moments later made his mind reeling and put his ass on the chair, quite without his say-so. But when Dean put all the facts out there, especially since it sounded like just the beginning, Bobby could only gape. Well, not only, he managed also:

"You're shitting me," in a very weak voice. Because really, time-travel? Alright, it happened before, but on such a scale? To accept that the boys he knew for the past four years were in fact eight years older than they should be? For all this time? That was hard to stomach. Bobby needed a drink.

Thankfully, before he could reach for it, Sam put a whiskey-filled glass in his hand. And gave Dean the other one as well.

Huh, at least they understood the weight of what they laid onto him.

"Alright," he said when Sam and Dean came to an end with their explanation of the future events. Bobby thought about decking them, because those two morons kept so many vital information to themselves that just— the seals, the angels, they had been through all of that already! But no, they chose to pretend, to act stupid in the face of such unknown— unknown at least to Bobby. It hurt to feel so left out, but Bobby was no idiot. He could separate the past from the present (however ironic that sounded in these particular circumstances) and in the present he was getting the final reveal. Sam and Dean must have mulled it over and in the end made the conscious choice to come to his house, drink his whiskey and tell him the truth.

So Bobby drank and asked the only question that came to his mind:

"But what does it have to do with the Devil? I mean, you just said you fought him in the past, and won. But still, wouldn't it be better to just let him rot? Not fight at all this time?"

He must have hit home, because Sam took a sharp breath and Dean looked at his brother without a word. Then Sam proceeded to pull the glass from Dean's grip and take a big gulp. Bobby narrowed his eyes.

"What didn't you tell me?" he prompted.

Sam looked down into the brown liquid and cleared his throat.

He wanted to tell Bobby everything, he really did, but how could he? How to put into words that the person he settled with in Dean's absence — and they did mention that — was in fact the Devil himself? How to explain the thick gray fog he was moving through in this situation? How to convince Bobby that this insanity was based solely on his intuition, one that might well be completely and utterly wrong? How to—?

"There's one more thing we didn't mention," said Dean, freeing Sam of the burden of making the decision. "But it's...," Dean licked his lips, hesitantly, "complicated."

"What can be more complicated than the Apocalypse, Archangels, Heaven, Gods, Leviathans, the Men of Letters, the falling of all angels and time-travel?" listed Bobby, proving he did pay attention and did it incredibly. Dean was half-sure he himself would get lost in the descriptions, had he not personally lived through all the things he talked about.

But the answer just materialized itself in Dean's mind as soon as the question was asked.

"Love," he said, and felt Sam flinch next to him in surprise. Their eyes met, and Dean saw that he indeed used the right word. And Sam was grateful for it.

Dean noticed Sam got so much open around him now that he felt accepted. And alright, acceptance was not an easy feat for Dean to achieve, he felt guilty for how long it took him and even now he had his doubts, but those doubts were not about Sam, not anymore, not ever again. In the end, the effort it took to overcome his mistrust proved worth it — to see Sam relax around him and smile, and most importantly, to honestly share his thoughts when prompted; that was the trust Dean was determined not to lose. He fought too hard to earn it.

He only promised himself, if Lucifer knew what was good for him, he had better not disappoint Sam. 'Cause he and Sam fought too hard over this relationship for it to come to naught.

"Love?" repeated Bobby, his eyebrows raised high. "What has love to do with the Apocalypse?"

Dean risked a glance at Sam. "I know how chick-flick it sounds but I think— I hope— it can stop it."

Sam drowned the rest of the whiskey and put the glass down with a thud.

"And if love doesn't work, I'll use brute force," he added with a tight throat and hard eyes, "either way, the end of the world will be canceled."

Bobby still had plenty of questions, in fact even more now after Sam's sombre promise, but what he saw in Sam's eyes made him close his mouth. These boys know what they're doing, he realized. He could either get on board, or get out of their way.

What he saw before him was two fine hunters, the ones he would rather fight with than against. And so the choice was made, even if some facts still remained missing.

Bobby trusted they will share everything when the right time comes.

So now, facing raging John, Bobby knew exactly what to say.

"I don't care whether you thought you were saving the world! In fact, I don't care about your motives at all! But pull the gun on either of my boys once again and it's not the Devil you'll have to worry about!"

"Jesus Bobby." John shook his head in dry disappointment. "I can't believe you'd be so blind to..."

"Get the fuck out of my property, Winchester," hissed Bobby, finally reaching for the gun and swinging it over his shoulder. The safety was still on and John saw it. But he did take the hint.

"You're making a mistake, Bobby. One that will cost us all," he warned, getting back to his car.

"Some days I think you can't even hear yourself," said Bobby in return, only putting his gun away when John started the engine. "You're not welcome here," he added towards John's open car window. "Not with that attitude."

John huffed and drove away. Bobby had the feeling this matter was far from over.

V.

The hallway of Nick's old house was exactly how Lucifer remembered it. The empty cradle, the woman's clothes in the open closet — unused for a while, but kept in a prime condition through grief. Just a heart-shattering reminiscence of the past.

Lucifer went up the stairs, slowly gathering the courage to face Nick. The situation felt completely different than before, when all he had in mind was the body he wanted to obtain. Yes, he felt for the man, even back then he truly sympathized, but only in the general idea. He had known how it was to lose everything, to see the future crumble before you, to see it slip out of your reach, just barely touching the tips of your fingers.

Back then, Nick noticed the shared pain. Back then, Nick had said yes. But Lucifer couldn't just replay the past. Wouldn't.

Still, with no other ideas at hand, Lucifer took the shape of Nick's wife and crossed the threshold to the man's bedroom.

"Nick," he greeted in a warm female voice. Nick turned his head towards Lucifer slowly, barely moving at all. But the expression on his face threw Lucifer off track.

"Don't," said Nick, focusing his sad eyes on his wife's face for a moment, then forcing his gaze away. "I know who you are." Nick steadfastly looked at anything but Lucifer now.

Lucifer froze. It couldn't be. Nick couldn't possibly remember him.

"Don't use her face," asked Nick, his voice quiet but steady. "You don't need to."

Lucifer was many things, but intentionally cruel was never one of them, no matter what some book tried to claim. At the same time though, he was forced to choose how to present himself now, even if just in this impalpable form, and there wasn't many options. He hadn't resided in that many bodies during his brief previous stay on Earth, and creating one of his own... well. He would surely make it look like Frankenstein's monster, he did not have the eye for detail — or at least that's how Jesse had judged him after his complete failure at playing The Sims. But there were just too many features to choose from! And most of them utterly irrelevant!

So Lucifer did the first thing that came to his mind, the thing he felt most comfortable with. His appearance slowly morphed into the shape of a blond man in his fifties, exactly the same one that sat on the bed before him. Lucifer could only hope this sight would not disturb Nick too much.

But Nick's shoulders relaxed instead of tensing.

"You seem to know who I am." Lucifer broke the silence that fell between them.

"I know you didn't intend me to," admitted Nick.

He didn't seem afraid, but what surprised Lucifer even more was that Nick seemed— comfortable in his presence, to put it simply. He acted as if an old friend came to visit, one that could be greeted with a pat on the shoulder and a firm handshake. He did neither of those things, of course, but Lucifer recognized the note of warmth in Nick's eyes.

That was unexpected.

"Nick, it was—"

"Don't worry," Nick cut Lucifer off, waving his hand. Such a dismissive tone towards the Devil himself, it could cost him his life, but instead, Lucifer found himself curious enough to listen. "I haven't been with you— later. But I've watched you from above. I got anxious when it got to me in Heaven that my body got raised again, so I've just put on the right channel on the telly and bam! Just like Netflix, my body starring as the protagonist. Weird feeling at first, but then the plot got gripping so I've just got along with it."

With these words, Lucifer felt his plan, however rickety it was this time, go up in flames; pun intended. If Nick had all this information, then there was nothing left to say. Except maybe,

"I truly did not know," said Lucifer, letting his voice fall as empty as he felt inside.

"I know," sighed Nick. Then he patted the bed covers next to himself. "Come, sit with me," he encouraged.

Lucifer didn't have much to lose at this point. Also, he could not stifle the curiosity of what this man had to tell him — the man he had for those few years believed himself to be.

The bed did not bow under his weight for his form was not corporeal in the slightest, but Nick still felt him, even though his eyes wandered away.

"It's weird," he started, and Lucifer saw the distant look in the corners of his eyes, "I've watched you for so long that now when I look at myself in the mirror, I almost expect Sam to appear right behind me in the reflection. Just as if I still watched you."

Lucifer would deny flinching on hearing those words, but it did happen. His hands wanted to tighten around the covers, but in this state were unable to grip anything at all.

Nick turned around, immediately noticing his frustration.

"It was nice, wasn't it?" he guessed, raising his eyebrow. It looked infuriatingly sassy; Lucifer hoped he had used this feature to the fullest when he had had the chance. "Living a life, real life, in my body."

Lucifer gritted his teeth.

"I did not come here for you to taunt me with things I cannot have!"

"And I did not wait for you for so long only to see you're too impatient to hear what I have to offer!" Nick shot back, and Lucifer stifled the next words in his throat.

"Offer?" he asked, hating the hope in his voice. Bloody human emotions, they were like a virus. Once you caught it, it just grew stronger in your veins.

"Yes." Now Nick's voice was gentle. "I wouldn't taunt you, Lucifer. Not with Sam. Not after— what I've seen."

Lucifer swallowed, carefully considering.

"And what exactly do you think you saw?"

Nick threw him an amused glance and chuckled at his suspicion.

"Hope, Lucifer," he replied.

Lucifer couldn't help himself, he huffed at that.

"Based on a lie," he hissed. "When I promised him that no matter what, I would never lie—"

"And you didn't!" stopped him Nick. "You just said it yourself, you had no idea!"

"That doesn't make my life with Sam any more true."

"Why did you come for my body then? And don't give me that Apocalypse bullshit, we both know it will never give you what you truly want."

"And what do you think it is?"

Nick waited for a second before answering, just looking into Lucifer's eyes.

"Happiness."

Lucifer closed his mouth with a snap.

He wanted to tear this man apart, limb by limb. He wanted to paint the walls with his blood. He also wanted to fall to the knees before him and beg him to say yes. He wanted to plead like he never pleaded with anybody before. He did neither. Instead, he just sat here, next to the man whose decision meant everything, and thought of Sam. Sam, who never ceased to surprise him. Sam, who went above and beyond, and achieved most unexpected results. Sam, who effortlessly offered what Lucifer thought was unthinkable and far out of his reach.

"Lucifer, listen to me," Nick's voice snapped him from his thoughts. Lucifer blinked and focused on Nick's next words. "All I want is to be with my family again. If I meet them in Heaven again, then this," he glanced down on his body, "is yours." It didn't sound even half as suggestive as it could have, no. Nick kept his voice clear of such things. He met Lucifer's eyes intently and added, "It has been yours for some time now, hasn't it?"

"It does feel like I'm looking in the mirror now," admitted Lucifer.

Even though as an archangel he used to operate on a higher level of vision and he would rather notice souls than ordinary human appearance, it seemed that being human, even just for a few years, has — how to put it gently — completely fucked him over. He couldn't help the instinct that at first glance identified Nick's body with his own. It should have been ridiculous for an angel, but Lucifer noticed it didn't even bother him; he just shrugged his shoulders and accepted it.

"But I didn't think you would feel the same," Lucifer added, if a bit tentatively.

"Weird, isn't it," agreed Nick casually. "Remembering Heaven changes perspective, I suppose. Also my wife—" he cut himself off, hesitating. Then shook his head, as if to himself, and continued, "my wife watched you with me, you know? She enjoyed it so much, at first I couldn't understand why. But she told me. She told me— it made her feel better to see me again, my body of course, so full of life, so happy. She enjoyed seeing me smile, and I— I think you deserve it. Those smiles. And I'd be glad to see them formed on my face. So if there's no problem with me going to Heaven again—"

"There shouldn't be," said Lucifer immediately. There were so many things in his head, so many feelings, but he had no time to unpack them all, so he took a page of Dean Winchester's book and compartmentalized the hell out of them. There would be time for this later, if there had to be at all. "But you have my word that should anything go wrong, I would personally see to it that you are reunited with your family. Remember, with me on your side, even in Hell you will find your Heaven."

"I trust you," said Nick simply.

That put a stop to Lucifer's immaterial, unbeating heart. A stray thought hit him — in the last few hours, more beings put an honest trust in him than in the entire millennia before.

It was entirely Samuel's fault, surely.

VI.

There were many things the Winchesters excelled at but sitting on their asses and waiting was not one of them. In fact, this could be put at the very bottom of the list. Dean could at least amuse himself with watching some questionable movies of Japanese origin at Sam's laptop, and Jesse usually sneaked out to the backyard to get the better feel of his powers now that Lucifer's rising unblocked their full potential, but Sam and Castiel were slowly getting mad. Alright. Sam just grew impatient of waiting; it was just Castiel getting mad.

The angel could be found staring into the space before him — no matter if it was the room, the world outside the window, the garage with the Impala in it or just the wall that happened to be one feet away from his face. He might claim to be deep in thoughts, but to others it soon became a disturbing sight.

"I just don't feel anything," explained Castiel, as frustrated as he was able to sound with his low and ever-calm voice, when Dean snapped after the first two days and told him to "chill it with the zen-zone, dude".

"What do you mean?" asked Dean. He could be accused of many things in his life, but not caring what Castiel had to say was never one of them.

"Lucifer is free," Castiel put it simply. "I expected some changes, disturbances on the... angel-radio," he used the Dean-coined term hesitantly, as if not sure he did it correctly. It never ceased to make Dean smile when he heard those attempts. The early Castiel was so adorkable; Dean just couldn't help but melt a little every time it showed.

"But isn't it a good thing? That nothing is happening?" asked Dean instead of fawning over Castiel as he wanted, because he was a hunter first, and... whatever second. No, there was no whatever. Just a hunter. With an angel, who was his ally. And his friend. And his family. And his... and the person who raised him from perdition. Dean was entitled to some feelings about that, right? RIGHT?

"Yes," replied Castiel, and thought for a moment. "But it unsettles me. That leaves us with nothing to start planing our defense."

Dean needed to take a deep breath. He wanted to just sit down and tell Castiel everything, but this move still seemed too risky. Castiel, despite being treated like a part of the family, still felt a bit distant at times. His barriers were falling down slowly but surely, one at a time, Dean saw to this personally. But for now, he didn't want to disturb his success rate; having Castiel work with them so closely again felt too good for Dean to risk a setback.

"I know, Cas," he settled on saying. He put his hand on Castiel's shoulder, just to... just because... He just put it there, alright?! There didn't always need to be a reason, dammit. "But can't we enjoy the moment of peace while it lasts? Even if it's just the calm before a storm?"

Castiel turned his head to look at Dean.

"Maybe you are right," he decided after a moment of focused deliberation. "Even if we knew what Lucifer is planning, I am afraid we would be in no power to stop it. It is beyond us. I worry only God could help us now."

Dean blinked, surprised, then sighed as the past time-line caught up again. Castiel will soon decide to embark on his search for God, surely. Dean had no idea what to think of it. In all likelihood, this time Cas won't find him either. Dean could think of better ways to spend his next months than waiting for Castiel to realize the futility of this task. On the other hand, Castiel being away would probably mean Castiel being safe from the angels' meddling that tended to revolve around him and Sam. Tough choice to make, but in the end the decision would always belong to Castiel himself. Dean could only observe and offer advice.

So for now he only chose to pat Castiel on the shoulder.

"See! You said it yourself. Our hands are tied. We might as well relax!"

Castiel remained unconvinced, but Dean did not for a second expect anything different.

VII.

"Boys, haven't you forgotten to mention something?" rumbled Bobby looking through his kitchen window into the yard. Sam got up from the chair and approached him, glancing above Bobby's shoulder to see what got him so tense suddenly.

Ah, yes. Understandable. Jesse was playing with the broken cars in the yard, which was the most apt description Sam could think of since the cars were used as Lego pieces. Jesse piled one onto the other, creating an arch that defied laws of physics. Also because he did it using only the power of his mind, of course, and unfortunately it was not in the scientific sense. No, it was demonic telekinesis to its finest.

But hey, Jesse built a truly majestic (though a bit rusty) triumphal arch. Sam could only feel proudly amused.

But Bobby had every right to confusion.

"Uhm," started Sam, scratching the back of his head. "Yes, there might be one tiny detail that slipped our minds..."

"Sam," drawled Bobby in a very parental warning. "Care to enlighten me?" His tone suggested Bobby wouldn't wait another second.

Castiel appeared seemingly out of nowhere (but probably just stopped lurking in the hallway).

"He's the Antichrist, a cambion," he explained with grim earnestness. "Born from both a human and a demon. Destined to fight at Lucifer's side against Heaven."

"Cas," warned him Dean harshly from the other side of the table. "We have talked about this."

"...and Sam's adopted son, a Winchester by choice and a lore-researcher with great potential," finished Castiel while looking Dean in the eyes.

Oh yes, Sam remembered The Great Cambion Argument between Castiel and Dean. The angel was adamant that the Antichrist must be destroyed. The way Dean verbally obliterated him for even daring to suggest such crap was stunning. Sam only thought, that's how our mom would have yelled at us for our idiotic teenage stunts if she'd lived to witness them. Dean's righteous anger was a force of nature. Castiel had been literally given no other choice but to accept Jesse and even swear to protect him if such need ever arose. And after Dean's extensive lecture, it was exactly what happened.

Castiel remained wary of Jesse, but the open hostility stopped after one small altercation with a rogue gang of anti-Crowley demons. Jesse himself was not fond of Castiel either, and Sam and Dean couldn't blame him for it after Castiel's initial reaction. But when push came to shove and Castiel faced one too many demons to handle, it was Jesse's immaculate reflexes that saved the angel. Sam heard Jesse's words right after. The boy approached the angel that was lying on the ground and extended his hand.

"Make no mistake, it wasn't for your sake," say the boy, which seemed to directly contradict his friendly gesture. But the hand did not waver. "It was for Dean's."

Sam didn't understand why it was these words that worked the magic, but it was still impressive to witness the result. Because right this moment he saw Castiel's resolve to disdain Jesse melt away in an instant.

For a boy born from a demon, Jesse had an exceptional aptitude for miracles. Or maybe it was Dean? Sam truly couldn't decide.

Bobby listened to Castiel's extensive explanation with eyes that opened wider with every next word.

"And you didn't think to mention it before?!" he hissed, glaring at Dean and Sam.

"Bobby," started Dean with a tired sigh. "He's just a kid..."

"I'm not saying we should hurt him!" stopped him Bobby immediately. "I'm saying you should have told me!"

"Bobby," said Sam in the exactly same manner Dean did before. "Honestly? He's been with us for so long that it's just... I barely notice it anymore. And his abilities were mostly dormant until Lucifer..."

"Castiel says he will fight against us in the end," observed Bobby slowly.

"No," corrected him Dean. "He said Jesse's gonna fight against Heaven. It's not like we're on their side, right?"

"But he said Jesse will join Lucifer..."

Dean waved his hand dismissively. "Oh you know how the prophecies are! We need to take them with a pinch of salt. And when we know the prophecy was manufactured by Heaven, I'd even suggest the whole barrel of it."

Sam on the other hand just realized something to the contrary; that this prophecy might just turn true in the end. But it's not like it had to be necessarily a bad thing. Still, Sam decided against sharing this observation with the group. But Dean quickly glanced at him and Sam knew he just thought exactly the same thing. Huh. It was truly nice to have him on his side. It made Sam way more confident of himself. Who was he even kidding, he needed Dean's approval to be happy. And yes, it was a weird brotherly co-dependence, whatever whatever. No one cares. That's just how they rolled and Sam learned to live with it (or — learned to accept he couldn't live without it).

VIII.

An insistent knock on the door woke Bobby from his unplanned nap in front of the telly. He rubbed the corners of his eyes as he got up from the old-but-still-good couch. Grabbing the shotgun that stood propped up at the wall because he did not expect any guests and wasn't known for his hospitality, Bobby opened the front door with typical hunter's wariness.

He was greeted with a sight of a relaxed-looking blond guy standing with hands put casually in the pockets of his jacket. Bobby estimated the man couldn't be more than thirty years old. There was something dangerous lurking in his eyes, but since the uninvited guest didn't make any suspicious move so far, and even knocked and waited like a decent human being, Bobby decided to ask first and only then maybe shoot.

"What do you want?" he asked in a not so pleasant but also not openly hostile manner, which those who knew him would consider the peak of his hospitality.

"Is Sam here?" asked the newcomer. He was strangely hesitant, but polite all the same.

"What do you want with Sam?"

"I want to speak with him," explained the man calmly, then waited for a tentative bit before adding, way less confidently, "I am his— friend."

That last bit sounded at least ominous in Bobby's book. His hand tightened on the shotgun.

"Somehow I doubt that," he hissed.

"Please," the man stopped him before Bobby considered readying his weapon. He extended his empty hands to emphasize his peaceful intentions. "Just tell him I'm here, that's all I ask."

Bobby had to admit there was no reason to deny this request. Yet. Keeping his eyes firmly focused on the guest, Bobby yelled to the inside of the house:

"Sam!"

They both waited for a few uncomfortable seconds, trying to pretend it the situation wasn't low-key hostile at all. Finally, they heard heavy footsteps on the stairs inside the house.

"You called me?" asked Sam slowly coming down.

"We have a guest, he claims he's your friend." Bobby's voice clearly said how much he believed in that. But to his surprise, Sam's footsteps immediately gotten quicker. Is seemed he jumped three stairs at once, judging by how fast he got to the door.

"You know him?" asked Bobby sternly, pointing the tip of his gun towards the blond man. Then he risked a glance at Sam who froze right behind him. The boy looked as if struck by a thunder. Bobby's frown deepened.

"Sam?" he prompted for an answer.

"Yes." Came the immediate reply, though Bobby was not entirely convinced Sam was aware what exactly he was confirming. He seemed quite of out it. But then Sam added, "He's—"

Words died in Sam's throat and that didn't inspire much confidence in Bobby.

"He's what?"

"A friend," supplied the man, looking intently at Sam. But Bobby wasn't born yesterday, he was not buying what the guy was selling. Not with Sam acting as if someone turned his brainpower off.

But as soon as Sam heard this last claim, it was like the switch got flipped. A hesitant smile appeared on his face while his eyes never left the other man. Bobby had a feeling those two tried to convey the entire conversation via just their staring and he could only comment this attempt with a raised eyebrow. What the hell was going on? Sam seemed unsure, but not threatened, that much Bobby could tell. But his all posture screamed in tension, which in turn made Bobby more likely to shoot their guest.

Finally, Sam broke the spell.

"Yes, a friend," he said with a warmth that Bobby did not hear from him in a very long time. "Could you give us a moment?" Sam asked, finally turning his attention to Bobby.

"Are you sure he can be trusted?" Bobby needed at least one clear answer.

But Sam only insisted,"Please."

Bobby huffed and stepped back into the inside of his house. He took the shotgun with him.

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