Wedding Bell Blues (PG)
Het alert, for those of you who are gen-only....
Summary: Azazel's not about to let Sam settle down to a white picket fence, a happy marriage, and a steady job. But Dean's got a few tricks up his sleeve.
Wedding Bell Blues
by San Antonio Rose and Enola Jones
THEN
John dragged into the Roadhouse, and Ellen immediately set a beer and a plate of food in front of him. He grunted his thanks and dug in.
When she could tell that he’d perked up enough to actually converse, she asked, “So, you headed to Beaumont next week?”
John frowned. “Beaumont? Why?”
“Graduation. Thought you’d heard.”
“No... no, I hadn’t.”
Ellen disappeared into the back room and came back with two fancy envelopes. “Sorry, just thought... well, maybe they sent yours to a drop you haven’t checked yet.”
John opened one to find an announcement that both Dean and Sam would be graduating from Lamar University, each with a BSEd....
But his heart almost stopped when he read the second announcement:
Daniel and DeLaina Vaughn and Luis and Magdalena Cortez
announce the marriages of their daughters
Daphne Michelle
to
Dean Michael Winchester
and
Susanna Patricia
to
Samuel Francis Winchester
in a double ceremony
on June 21, 2005
at two o’clock in the afternoon
at First Baptist Church, Cazadore, Texas....
A double wedding at Midsummer.
“... dammit, boys....”
NOW
June 14, 2005
“TRIIIIIIISH!!!”
Sam’s scream had Dean on his feet, knife in hand, and bolting down the hall to his brother’s room in seconds. When he got there, Sam was still thrashing and screaming his fiancée’s name.
Dean put his knife on the nightstand and shook Sam awake. “Sam! Sammy! It’s okay!”
As soon as Sam woke up enough to register Dean’s presence, he sat up and grabbed Dean in a bear hug, sobbing.
Dean hugged him back. “Shh... hey, easy, Sammy, it’s okay. Just a nightmare....”
“No,” Sam moaned. “No, it-I-I can still smell it....”
“Smell what?”
“Smoke. Sulfur. Oh, God help us... Dean, it was terrible. It was our wedding night, we were in the new house, and Tricia... Dean, she was on the ceiling.”
Dean felt himself go pale and tightened his grip on Sam.
“And... and th-then....”
“She burned?”
Sam nodded miserably.
“Did you see what it was?”
He shook his head. “Never do.”
“You’ve had this dream before?”
Sam sniffled. “Yeah. ’Bout two weeks now, every night. But this was the worst.”
Dean sighed. “All right. I don’t care what the damn realtor says. We are warding that house tomorrow.”
Sam blinked. “But....”
“But nothing. I don’t care if it’s nerves or a vision. It needs to get done, and we’ll both sleep better once we’ve done it.”
“Yeah, and you’re gonna need that sleep, aren’t you?”
Dean smirked. “Oh, yeah. I have got plans, little brother. Been waitin’ for this for six years now.”
“And Daphne’s been waitin’ for ten.”
“Don’t remind me-it’s partly your fault.” Dean tightened his arms around Sam one last time. “Think you can go back to sleep?”
Sam nodded. “Stay?”
“You’re lucky I trust Tricia with your shaggy emo head,” Dean groused, pulling the covers over himself. “Scoot over, Sasquatch.”
Sam scooted, and for what would probably be the last time, Dean snuggled down next to him to keep the nightmares at bay.
They would be taking no chances with Sam and Tricia’s house, Dean had decided. It was a minor miracle that they’d managed to get the house next door to the one where Dean and Sam had lived for ten years and where Dean would be staying after marrying Daphne. Their old house was well warded; Sam and Dean could copy the sigils and other defenses exactly, and Sam and Tricia would be safe against almost anything. And Dean and Daphne would be right next door for backup.
But Azazel’s waves kept breaking against the rock that was Cazadore, even though he kept sending more and more powerful demons. Sooner or later he would show up himself. And ever since they’d learned the demon’s name, Dean had been sure that Azazel was the demon that had killed their mother. There was no guarantee that a demon that strong would be stopped by ordinary traps, salt lines, or even a moat filled with holy water.
But according to all the lore, not even Lilith could cross consecrated iron.
So Dean had found, and Pastor Jim had consecrated, plates of iron to install in the threshold of every outside door and the sill of every window in both houses. Each one was engraved on both sides with the names of God in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, and the ones for the doors bore verses from the Vulgate like Qui habitat in adjutorio Altissimi, in protectione Dei cæli commorabitur (He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty). The local hardware store had even found pure iron screws for him.
Sam wasn’t supposed to take possession of the house until the 18th, but the former owners had already moved out, and when Dean explained to the realtor that they needed to at least get the doors warded because Sam was having nightmares, they received access to the house for that purpose only. The girls both had to work, unfortunately, but with both brothers working together, it didn’t take them all that long to get the plates in place.
No sooner had they placed the last one and started back to the kitchen for a celebratory beer, however, than Sam cried out in pain and fell to his knees. From the way Sam was clutching at his head, Dean could guess that he was suffering from a monstrous headache, but he was unresponsive for several seconds until he screamed and collapsed against Dean, crying loudly.
“Dude... what the hell?!”
Sam finally gave up on trying to speak and signed. See our wedding. Handfasting. Man with yellow eyes kills everybody. All burn.
Dean stared. “In the church?!”
Sam nodded. I think Azazel. This threat, Dean. He comes, we not stop him.
Dazed, Dean could only hold his keening brother. If holy ground couldn’t stop Azazel, how the hell was he supposed to keep Sam safe?
“The dream stopped,” Sam said at breakfast the next morning.
Dean blinked. “The one with Tricia?”
“Yeah. Didn’t really have any nightmares at all.”
“That... huh. Strange.”
“Not really.” Sam took a drink of coffee and continued. “Remember when that vision hit yesterday?”
Dean thought, and his eyes widened. Iron finished, he signed. House closed.
“I think Azazel was telling me what he was gonna do to Tricia. But he can’t do that anymore.”
“He can’t get in the house,” they chorused.
So he changes, attacks church. How far did he get?
“About even with the back pew. He was definitely on holy ground. And before you ask, I don’t think skipping the handfasting would be enough of a change; I think he chose that point because we’ll be conveniently tied up.”
We not have enough iron for church.
“Wouldn’t matter if we did, Dean. He’d just try something else-hell, he might even run us off the road with a semi if he had to. We can’t stay on defense forever. We know what he’s planning now; we need to go on offense, find a way to end this.”
How we do that in five days?
Before Sam could answer, there was a knock at the door. “UPS!”
The brothers looked at each other in confusion, and Dean answered the door and signed for the large and surprisingly heavy box. Sam joined him in the living room, and together they examined the package warily.
“Daniel Elkins, Manning, Colorado,” Sam read. “Sound familiar?”
Vaguely, Dean signed with a nod. Think we met once. Friend of Dad’s.
Carefully they opened the outer layer of brown paper and found a box covered in wedding-themed wrapping paper. On top was a note:
Dean and Sam,
I understand that congratulations are in order for you both! You probably don’t remember me, but we met once about twenty years ago; I’m a hunting acquaintance of your father’s, a retired vampire specialist.
I suspect that your father has retained very few heirlooms to pass on to you on the occasion of your marriages, so please allow me to give you this one. He has been pestering me for it for about four years now, but given the reports I’ve heard about the good work you’re doing in Cazadore, I think I would prefer for it to be in your hands than in his. There is a document in the case that explains its provenance and its virtues. May it serve you well.
Keep the faith,
Daniel Elkins
“Huh,” the brothers said as they reached the end of the note at the same time.
“Feels like a gun case,” Dean noted as he started to unwrap the box.
“Four years,” Sam mused. “Four years ago Dad said he had a lead on Azazel.”
Dean got the wrapping paper off. “It is a gun case.” He opened it gingerly, gasping as he set the documentation aside. “Colt Paterson 1836! Awesome!”
The case contained everything that was needed to clean and use the gun that was as old as the Republic of Texas, including five bullets numbered 9 through 13. Dean took the gun out of the case and examined it carefully, noting the pentagram on the grip and the engraving Non timebo mala on the barrel, while Sam looked at the documentation.
“Dean.”
“What?”
“Elkins says this gun will kill anything, up to and including demons.”
“No way.”
“Here.” Sam shoved the paper into Dean’s hand.
Dean read quickly, then looked at the gun for a moment before holding it up to his left forearm. “Might work if I get the jacket a size or two bigger,” he murmured, considering the effect.
“Dean?”
“Sammy... I think we just found ourselves a plan.” And humming the theme from The Wild, Wild West, he headed for the telephone.
It took a lot of phone calls and emails back and forth with Caleb, but Dean went to bed on the night of June 20 confident that his plan would work. And it was a good thing, too, because a massive electrical storm kicked up just as he headed up the stairs.
Sam was whimpering in pain when Dean checked on him. “He’s coming, Dean.”
Dean petted his big goofy aching head. “Shhh. I know, Sammy. I know. And it’s the last mistake he’ll ever make.”
“I know. I trust you. Just... don’t miss.”
“Dude, I’ve got five shots. How can I miss?”
Sam chuckled, and Dean patted his shoulder and went to bed.
Around 1:30, though, the phone rang.
“Heads up,” said Ash. “Su padre just looked at the weather and took off like the hellhounds were after him.”
Dean frowned. “Did he say why?”
“All he said was ‘Yellow Eyes.’”
“Lemme guess,” Dean grumbled. “He’s headin’ to Cazadore.”
“Yeeep.”
Dean’s hands moved and Ash suddenly laughed. “Lemme guess, you just ASLed somethin’ rude.”
“Oh, don’t you start.”
Ash laughed again. “Want me to alert the posse?”
Dean looked at the clock and sighed. “Nah. He’s gonna hit traffic in Dallas, probably won’t get here ’til it’s over.”
“Time is the weddin’?”
“Starts at 2.”
Ash gasped.
“What?”
“Two PM on summer solstice?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s some really powerful mojo!”
Dean chuckled. “Daphne’s idea.”
“Amazing, dude. You got one cunning bride there.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“So where you headin’ for-”
“ASHTON HARVELLE!”
“Uh-oh. Mama Bear’s not happy with anyone right now.”
Dean laughed. “We can catch up later, dude. Thanks for the heads-up about Dad. Oh, and Ash? The phone will be off tomorrow night.”
Ash laughed. “You better call me and check up.”
“When I have time-which might not be for a few days!”
“At least tell the others to keep me updated on Papa Rude.” He hung up.
Dean snickered and hung up the handset.
He managed to get another three hours of sleep before Sam’s screams woke him. Once more he rushed to Sam’s room, suspecting what the cause would be. Sure enough, Sam was thrashing, sobbing, swearing, sweating.
Dean sat on the edge of the bed and tried to still Sam’s flailing arms. “Hey, hey, Sammy. Wake up.”
Sam shuddered and gasped, his eyes snapping open.
“That’s it, Sammy. Easy. C’mon back.”
He clutched at Dean’s arms and curled into him like he was 4 instead of 22.
Dean held him and rocked him until he thought Sam might be capable of speech. “Same dream?”
Sam nodded. “Worse... got two steps closer... he kept flickering... he was a stranger and then he was Dad.”
Dean cursed quietly.
“But he was only Dad after he killed everyone... like he took him to torture us.”
“Okay, look. You tell me if you see the stranger, all right? We’re not gonna let it get that far. He’s not gettin’ Dad if I can help it.”
“I will. Not even Dad deserves that.”
Dean kissed his hairline. “Dad left the Roadhouse about three hours ago. But no matter how fast he drives, he’ll lose at least an hour on 35. With any luck, we’ll be married and Azazel will be dead before Dad even gets to Cazadore.”
“I ... I need....”
“What? Advil? Trash can? What?”
“A shower... I stink.”
Dean laughed quietly. “All right, then. C’mon.”
When breakfast was over and the dishes cleaned, Sam headed over to his house to check things out. He double-checked the wards, the salt lines... the bridal suite-er, bedroom. Everything was perfect.
In less than five hours, Sam Winchester would be in this home - a married man.
He could hardly believe it.
Sam looked up, feeling eyes on him. He wasn’t surprised to find Dean standing there.
Everything okay? Dean signed.
Sam nodded. Next time here - husband.
Nervous?
Very.
Dean chuckled.
You?
Dean made a variety of hilarious considering faces before conceding, ... yes.
“We’re a pair,” Sam reverted to speech.
Just don’t outshine the brides, Samantha.
Sam laughed heartily.
Dean grinned. Pastor Jim called-at church. Let’s go.
Sam locked the door of his house and then turned on the porch and signed, Your home, too.
Dean simply smiled and hugged his brother. Sam thumped his back and slotted into the front seat of the Impala.
Pastor Jim wasn’t the only person waiting for them at the church. He, Bobby, Rufus, and Caleb were playing 42 in one of the Sunday school rooms.
“Who’s winning?” Sam asked.
“We are,” said Caleb, meaning himself and Pastor Jim. “AL to ALI, game point.”
Rufus held up a finger and made a thoughtful noise. “Mm-hm. Two marks,” he bid.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Stakes?”
“Not playing for cash,” Caleb replied, “and that’s probably a good thing. I pass.”
“I’ll help my partner,” said Bobby.
“Take it, Rufus,” said Pastor Jim.
“Follow Me,” Rufus said with a grin-and laid all seven dominos face up. He had all but two of the doubles, the 6-5, and the 6-4.
Caleb threw his pen into the middle of the table in disgust. “A lay-down hand. I swear, Rufus....”
Cheats, Sam signed with a wink.
“I ain’t that fast, son,” Rufus laughed.
“Forget the dominos,” Bobby chuckled. “I wanna see this gun of yours, Dean.”
Dean did a funny twist with his wrist, and suddenly the gun was in his left hand. The other hunters ooh-ed appreciatively.
“The hardest part was keeping it set to where the hammer stays back but I can’t accidentally fire it,” Dean explained, pulling back his sleeve to reveal the rig Caleb had helped him design.
“So it’s literally primed to fire the second it hits your hand?” Rufus asks.
Dean nodded. “Has to be. The action’s mighty stiff, and in a case like this, even a nanosecond’s delay could cost lives.”
Caleb frowned. “You really think that bastard’ll show up?”
“He’ll be here,” Sam replied quietly. “I know it.”
“From your dreams?” Caleb asked. “I’m sorry, but that’s a little hard to believe, still.”
Dean pushed the Colt back up his sleeve until the rig clicked. “The dream changed when we warded the house too well. If it were just Sam’s nerves... that wouldn’t have made enough of a difference for the dream to change completely.”
“You believe it’s a sign?” Pastor Jim asked, completely serious.
Dean met his eyes. “Yeah. I do.”
“Good enough for me.” Pastor Jim smiled.
“Me, too,” Bobby nodded.
Caleb sighed. “Seems I’m outvoted.”
“Keep being a skeptic,” Sam smiled at him. “Keeps us sane.”
Caleb chuckled and slapped Sam’s shoulder. “C’mon, you two. Walk us through this.”
An hour later, the pair were dressed to the nines, waiting with Bobby and Caleb in the back as the two preachers walked to the front and the music began. They walked in, Dean moving to the right of the platform and Sam to the left. Caleb stood between them and Bobby sat down.
Ushers from the church brought in Mrs. Vaughn and Mrs. Cortez. And then the music shifted and Rufus walked in with Mrs. Rose on his arm. She stood off to the side and Rufus walked to the other side.
Caleb got an ‘OH SHIT!’ expression on his face and went tearing down the aisle. He returned with Mrs. Ramirez on his arm, blushing bright red. She kissed his cheek in forgiveness.
As she moved to the matron of honor place, the bridal march sounded. They had planned for the girls to enter by reverse age order of their husbands. Thus, first to enter with his white-robed and veiled daughter was Mr. Cortez. Five steps behind was Mr. Vaughn with Daphne.
Sam barely remembered to breathe. The girls were-Tricia was... gorgeous.
The brides smiled at their husbands and Pastor Jim prayed quickly in Latin. Then Pastor Tim stepped forward and said if anyone objected, now was the time to say so.
After a pause, someone murmured, “It’s about dang time....”
Everyone laughed.
Sam looked over his shoulder. “Thanks, Josh....”
The laughter grew louder. Since Mr. Blake had all but disowned Tiffany for contacting her mother, she and Josh had gotten married the summer after she graduated from high school in a small ceremony at her mother’s church in Houston. Josh and Sam had been teasing each other about their respective timings ever since-especially given that the new Robichaux couple had also been wed midday at the summer solstice.
Pastor Jim asked who gave these women and the fathers said in unison, “Her mother and I do.” They then sat down.
Vows were said. Rings were exchanged, after which Caleb moved away. Then Tim nodded at Jim, who stepped forward with two lengths of rope.
Mr. and Mrs. Cortez exchanged a worried look.
Tricia looked at them as she handed her bouquet to Mrs. Ramirez. “Es okay, Papa - Mama. Prometo.”
Daphne handed her bouquet to Mrs. Ramirez as well; then both couples turned to face each other. At Pastor Jim’s command, they clasped right hands, their left ones down at their sides. First to Dean and Daphne, then to Sam and Tricia, Pastor Jim tied a loose knot joining their hands together. And, thus bound, they confessed their love and loyalty and their intention to remain forever bound by the ties of love and loyalty - to become family.
When he glanced up from their joined hands, Dean found himself looking at the same Daphne he’d envisioned the day he fell for her-her gorgeous eyes shining with joy and unshed tears, looking up at him through her veil...
... and suddenly there was the incongruous sound of a single person clapping slowly in pure sarcasm from the back of the sanctuary, and Dean’s blood ran cold.
“How touching,” said a male voice that carried all the way to the altar. Dean looked out to see a plain-featured man with a dentured smile starting toward the center aisle. “But I’m afraid the party’s over.” And his eyes turned sulfur yellow.
“DEAN!” Sam screamed.
Immediately Dean snapped the Colt down into his left hand, raised it, and fired. The sight of the gun elicited some gasps, but when the man lit up from the inside like he was on fire... well, that prompted screams, and Mrs. Cortez fainted. Even the normally unflappable Mr. Cooper looked surprised.
Dean watched the man fall, convulse, and go still, the stench of sulfur briefly overpowering the incense in Pastor Jim’s censer. He was ready to fire again if this turned out to be a trick, ready to grab Daphne and run if the place caught fire and trusting Sam to do the same with Tricia. But all was still and silent.
Finally, Sam said, “He’s dead, Dean.”
Dean lowered the gun, and everybody started breathing again. Daphne hugged him as much as their bound hands would allow. Then Dean looked up-straight into the startled eyes of his father, who was standing in the doorway, shotgun in hand.
“Dean?!” John breathed.
Dean glanced over at Sam, who shook his head minutely. He wasn’t possessed; it really was John. And while Dean wasn’t sure how Sam knew or why he trusted that instinct, he did trust Sam. So he looked back at John with a small, wry smile.
John still looked lost, bewildered, incredulous, hardly daring to hope. “What... how... Dean?”
Dean’s hands weren’t free to sign, so he simply mouthed, For Mom.
Bobby stood up. “John,” he called. “Come here.”
Still looking stunned, still holding the shotgun, John walked to the front of the church. Mrs. Rose got Mrs. Cortez awake as Josh and Mr. Cooper carried the dead body of Azazel away. Josh walked back in alone as Bobby got John seated beside him on the family of the groom’s pew.
As for the shotgun, Rufus quietly spirited it out of the sanctuary. Bobby took the Colt and held onto it.
Pastor Jim held his hand over both knots while Pastor Tim said, “And now, by the authority vested in us by God and by the states of Texas and Minnesota...”
They finished in unison. “We now pronounce you man and wife.” Pastor Jim untied one set of knots, and Pastor Tim intoned, “Ladies and gentlemen, we present to you Dean and Daphne Winchester.”
Pastor Jim repeated the action, and Pastor Tim said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we present to you Sam and Tricia Winchester. Gentlemen, kiss your brides.”
Two veils were lifted, and two brothers kissed their brides as the church erupted in applause and cheers.
Dean suddenly didn’t care that they were in church in front of everybody. He kissed Daphne hard, hungrily, and felt her respond in anticipation.
She was his, and he was hers, and they were free.
They had a hell of a lot to celebrate.
John suddenly realized that he had tears running down his face. He whispered, “Our family just doubled in size, Mary... I hope they know what they’re doing.”
“They do, John,” Bobby rumbled in his ear. “They absolutely do.”
“They’re in danger, still... aren’t they?” he whispered.
Bobby shrugged. “Isn’t everybody?”
John sighed.
Bobby nudged him. “My motel room is 135. Go shower and change your clothes. The reception is at the school cafeteria. Meet us there in an hour.”
“Are... are you sure it’s okay?”
Bobby nodded and watched him go. Then he informed the boys what he’d done.
“Think he’ll behave?” Dean asked.
“If he don’t,” Rufus said, “I’ll escort him out myself.”
Dean nodded. “Fair enough.”
Pictures were taken. Then the two couples headed to the school.
When they arrived, they heard someone call, “Dean. Sam.” It was Cooper, walking toward them. “You four, come with me.”
The brothers blinked at each other, shrugged, and followed.
The body possessed by Azazel had been cleaned and lay on top of a small pyre. Cooper handed four sticks to them. “Thought you’d like to do the honors, boys. He took your mother.”
Dean shook his head. “Dad should be here for this.”
“I am,” John replied, joining them. “But you shot him, Dean.”
“Dean’s right,” Sam said, talking aloud to John for the first time in ten years. “It was your wife he burned. It’s only right that yours is one of the hands that burns him.”
Cooper smiled and produced a fifth stick. He walked up to John and held it out.
John’s throat tightened as he tried to speak, but nothing came out. Finally he signed, Thank you.
Cooper nodded. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit all five. Starting with John’s.
At a nod from Dean, John set his torch to the pyre first. The kids followed suit.
“There was ID in his pocket,” Cooper said after all five had placed their torches. “The victim’s name was Darren Walker.”
“Rest in peace, Mr. Walker,” Sam said with unusual respect. “I’m so sorry your life ended this way.”
John squeezed Sam’s shoulder. Sam permitted the touch; then he actually hugged his father before he wrapped his arms around his wife.
“So proud of you, boys,” John choked out, looking first at Sam and then turning to Dean. “S-s-so damn proud....” The tears he’d been trying to suppress finally came spilling out.
Seeing this, Dean looked at Daphne. At her nod, he moved forward and hugged his father as well.
I love you, he signed with one hand into John’s back.
That made John cry harder.
When at last John was able to let go of Dean, Daphne tugged on his sleeve. “C’mon, Dad. Let’s go have some cake.”
John nodded and followed them, leaving Cooper to tend the pyre.
When the body burned to ash, he whispered, “Good riddance, Azazel,” and snapped his fingers.
The pyre vanished as if it had never been there.
Around 3:00 the next morning, Dean licked the last of the chocolate off Daphne’s nose and asked, “So... was it worth the wait?”
She hummed contentedly and kissed his collarbone. “If we don’t have kids, it will not be for lack of trying.”
He chuckled and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “That’s my girl.”
They were asleep in minutes.
Once they were deeply asleep, both Dean and Daphne winced as a brief burst of pain lanced through their chests, running along the ribs from breastbone to spine. But it wasn’t enough to actually wake them, especially when an unseen hand caressed the tops of their heads and soothed the pain.
“They’re so cute when they’re sleeping,” Gabriel remarked to Castiel once he was back outside.
“You truly care for them,” Castiel observed.
Gabriel shrugged. “Ah. They’ve grown on me.”
He was treated to one of Castiel’s rare amused smiles.
“You get your present delivered?”
“Indeed,” Castiel replied. “It may not be much use if either Zachariah or Lilith works out that they still live here, and it will not hide them from human eyes.”
“Yeah, I know.” Gabriel pondered the houses for a moment before adding an extra layer of Enochian wards to each and to the Impala. “But at least when they’re not home, Zach will have to go to extraordinary lengths to find them, like using human informants. And you know Zach hates dealing with humans.”
“Still, he will not find it so easy to put Sam to the purpose Azazel intended. He is bound now by the strongest bonds humans can create.”
“And one that they can’t.” When Castiel tilted his head in confusion, Gabriel explained, “Agape. It’s not often Dad’s love finds such deep and open human channels in one family, but these four? And especially Sam and Dean? It’s...” Gabriel swallowed hard. “It’s almost like Home was always supposed to be. Used to be.”
“May it be so again,” Castiel replied... and hugged him.
Gabriel hugged back. “Thanks, bub.”
Castiel backed away awkwardly. “You do fear, though, that this is not the end of Azazel’s plan, that it did not die with him.”
“I wish it were that easy. Wasn’t Azazel’s plan, y’know; it was Lucifer’s. Zach got wind of it, felt confident it would work apart from the ending, and decided to lend a hand in bringing it to pass. Dean won’t break the first seal now, and it’s a stretch to think that anyone else in this generation can. But you know Zach.”
“He won’t let it go.”
“So they’re still gonna need all the help they can get until we can make sure the plan won’t work at all, ever. At least not with these two muttonheads.”
Castiel looked thoughtful, then flitted into Dean and Daphne’s house briefly before returning to Gabriel.
“What did you do?”
“I warded Dean’s safe and the case that holds the Colt. The hands of only four people may now open them.”
Gabriel laughed and slugged Castiel’s shoulder. “I like your style, little brother.”
Castiel glowed more brightly than ever at the praise.
“For Pete’s sake, John,” said Caleb at breakfast, “give the kids some space. It’s the day after their wedding.”
“Caleb, I just got them back!”
“And they will still be here at lunchtime. Settle.”
John took a deep breath.
“John,” Bobby warned.
“What?”
“You don’t want to get shot again, you sit down and eat your breakfast. Let the kids come to you. After yesterday, I got a feelin’ they want to.”
John sat down and ate his breakfast. “Never told you that Sammy shot me.”
“No, but Sam did.”
“Figured Dean would try to take credit for that.”
“Credit!” Jim laughed. “Sam came to me for absolution!”
John’s eyes went huge. “He did?”
“The boys never did hate you, John,” Bobby explained. “Not really. Yeah, you hurt ’em pretty bad, and they didn’t want you around while you still had that grudge match with Azazel to settle. But they never hated you. After the fact, Sam was kind of relieved Daphne’d fetched a gun she knew had salt rounds in it.”
“Those ladies are good for them, Johnny,” Jim said.
Abashed, John ate in silence for a while, pondering his life and relationships.
“Penny for ’em,” Bobby said at last.
John sighed, looking down at his plate and fiddling with his fork. “I have been doing this for nearly 22 years now... chasing this thing, wanting to avenge my Mary... and now that it’s over...” He looked up. “I feel a little bit at sea. I didn’t expect to survive this quest. But I did. What do I do now?”
And the door to the diner chimed as four very familiar young people walked in.
Bobby nudged John with a look that plainly said, See, I told you so.
Caleb stood up and with a “HEY! HERE!” gestured the newlyweds over to their massive table.
“Tricia didn’t feel like cooking,” Sam explained after a round of back-pounding hugs.
Then all four looked at John and signed in unison, Hi, Dad.
Kids, John signed back, his mouth full.
Daphne pushed Dean into the seat next to John and sat down on his other side. Once the other hunters were seated, Sam and Tricia slid in across from Dean and Daphne.
The smiles the boys gave John weren’t quite as broad and sunny as the ones they’d given the other men at the table, but they were genuine.
Their waitress - Garnet Petersen - came over and took their orders, then congratulated them as she left them to put their orders in.
“So,” Tricia asked brightly, “how’s everyone this morning?”
“Well-rested and ready to head out,” Rufus said with a grin.
“Mildly sleep-deprived,” Daphne replied with a wink at Dean.
“Same here,” Tricia smirked.
Sam blushed. “Not in front of Dad...” he hissed.
“It’s okay, son,” John laughed softly. “I was a newlywed once, myself. I know the score.”
Dean bumped his shoulder. “Y’know what, Dad? I’m glad you came.”
“Even after everything?” John asked sincerely.
“Yeah. I wasn’t too excited when Ash told me, but... you needed to be here. You needed that closure.”
“I’m glad it was a Winchester’s hand he died at.”
Dean smiled and leaned against John briefly-formerly the Winchester equivalent of a hug. John’s arm rose and encircled Dean’s shoulders. His feet, under the table, sandwiched one of Sam’s.
“I’m proud of you boys,” he said quietly. “I mean that.”
“So what will you do now?” Daphne asked.
“I don’t know,” John sighed in perfect honesty.
“Most people retire,” Tricia observed.
“We’re not most people,” all three Winchester men chorused.
“Have you ever considered piracy?” Caleb joked, attempting to sound like Cary Elwes.
Rufus continued, “Or is your name Alan Bourdillion-Ter-who?”
“Terhane,” said Bobby, playing along.
“Traherne,” the kids all said at the same time.
John looked at them oddly. “You managed to find John Wayne fans?!”
“Of course,” Sam grinned. “It’s Texas.”
“Or you could become a tour guide, much as you’ve been through the states!” Caleb teased.
John threw his napkin at him.
“Seriously, though, Dad,” Dean said, “I’ll be quittin’ my job at the garage pretty soon, going full-time at the high school. Mercer’s gonna need a good mechanic.”
John looks at him incredulously. “After.... After all I’ve done to you boys over the years... you want me to stay?”
They shrugged.
“At least that way we’d know you were safe,” Sam said meaningfully.
“I don’t know if I can give up hunting permanently,” John said. “It’s ... It’s been my life for 22 years.”
“The boys hunt part-time and are involved in other ways,” Tricia pointed out.
“But think about it,” Dean continued. “Why do you hunt? How satisfying will it be to hunt if you’re not chasing Azazel? Are you in it to save lives, or only because you don’t know what else to do?”
“Life is too short not to do what you love,” Daphne added.
“I don’t know what I love anymore. Other than the people sitting here,” John admitted.
The others smiled at that.
“Think about it, Dad,” Dean said seriously as the kids’ food arrived.
“I will, son.”
Dean smiled and signed a quick blessing over the food, and the other hunters steered the conversation onto lighter topics.
John just stared at his oldest. To see him praying... even in ASL... that was still a kick in the head. But he couldn’t blame it on the Trickster anymore-not after it had helped him yesterday without any motive except letting him grieve with his boys... and his girls. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that being anymore - but it really, genuinely seemed to like his kids. Maybe... maybe it wasn’t all bad.
Maybe Cazadore wasn’t, either.
Sam leaned forward and tapped John’s wrist. Where you go?
John shook himself. “Sorry. Just... just thinking.”
“What about?”
“Life, the universe, and everything.”
“Forty-two,” Caleb, Rufus, Sam and Tricia all said at the same time.
Daphne threw her head back and laughed. Dean just shook his head.
“Afraid I didn’t catch that one at all,” Pastor Jim chuckled.
“Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” replied Bobby.
Dean let out a long-suffering sigh. “All I can say is that my dad is one hoopy frood who always knows where his towel is.”
Even John laughed at that. Then they laughed harder at Pastor Jim’s confused expression.
When at last the kids finished eating and the group got ready to leave, John said, “Sam, wait up a minute. I need to talk to you.”
Sam nodded at Dean, who nodded back and went on. Tricia hung back, until Sam kissed her cheek and whispered something; then she kissed his lips and headed after Dean and Daphne. “Okay.”
“Listen, son, there’s... well, I don’t know how much of an issue it’ll be now, but there’s something you should know. About... about yourself.”
“What is it?”
“There was a reason Yellow Eyes was in your nursery that night.”
“Dad... is this about the demon blood?”
John stared. “How the hell do you know about that?”
“We figured it out four years ago-right after we got these.” Sam unbuttoned his shirt partway and pulled it aside to show John a tattoo of the anti-possession sigil.
John gasped loudly.
“Tricia found a cure, too,” Sam continued, rebuttoning his shirt. “I dunno if... if they still call me the Boy King or whatever, but... we fixed it. Hell’s got no claim on me now.”
“I thought it was impossible to fix.”
Sam shrugged.
“You’ve got a smart one, there.”
Sam grinned and ducked his head. “She’s pretty special.”
“She is. So you’re completely free?”
Sam nodded. “As far as we can tell.”
“No side effects?”
“Well, maybe.”
“What’s happened, Sam?”
“I can’t tell you how I was cured, Dad. I can’t. I’m not permitted to. But it’s thorough and it’s ... Dad, please don’t hate me.”
John put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “No, son. I don’t hate you. What’s the side effect you think you’ve experienced?”
“I’ve had visions, Dad. Some connected with Azazel. Some not. We could take the blood out of me, but we don’t think we erased the psychic abilities it gave me.”
John nodded slowly. “Okay. That’s... okay. We can live with visions.”
“And I’m faster and stronger than I should be for my build.”
John snorted. “’Course you are. Your old man’s a Marine.”
“You’re not... not gonna hunt me?”
“No! Sam-how... how could you even think that? You’re my son.”
“I was contaminated by demon blood. By the blood of the thing that killed your wife and my mother. I apparently am Hell’s Boy King. I have visions and demonic speed and strength.”
“And yet you’ve won the love of a girl like Tricia.”
“Dad...”
“And yet,” John plowed on, “you believe in God and try to live up to His ideals.” Sam ducked his head again, but John caught his chin and made Sam look him in the eye. “Sam. I-won’t deny that I’m still worried about you. For you. But from what I can tell... you’re...” He sighed. “You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din.”
“What is it with you and Dean and conversing in movie quotes?” Sam laughed.
John chuckled but said, “I mean it, Sam. I’m damn proud of you. You may not be out of danger, but it’s plain enough that...” you’re a good man.
The fact that John had signed that last bit brought tears to Sam’s eyes. He responded in kind. I try to be.
John pulled him into a hug. When he let go, he added, “And if anybody does try to hunt you... they’ll have me to deal with.”
Sam cupped his father’s cheek. “I never thought we’d get along.”
John chuckled ruefully. “I stick around too long, we might not. I know I’m not the easiest person to like.”
Sam sat down and indicated John should do the same. “I knew you were obsessed and it got in the way of family. I don’t know what made Dean see it, though. Or why he reacted like he did and ran with me. When I ask, he just says it’s in the past.”
“In a way, I’m glad he did. It took losing you for me to recognize even a tenth of the mistakes I was making, and I don’t think it really hit home until this morning just how obsessed I’ve been. I don’t know if I’m able to change much after all these years, but... Yellow Eyes is gone. I’ve gotta change course somehow.”
“We’ll help any way we can. But Dad... what happened?”
John sighed. “I don’t remember very clearly-I was drunk. He was trying to ask me something, and I snapped at him. I don’t... I don’t think I actually hurt him physically, but I must have said something... ‘Shut up and leave me alone,’ something like that. ‘Don’t ever speak to me again,’ maybe. I don’t know. Took me a few days to realize he’d quit talking again, and then....” He stopped, fighting tears.
“And then?” Sam prompted, his eyes horrified.
“And then you were gone.”
“Dean woke me up early about a week before his 16th birthday,” Sam informed John. “He told me we had to start making plans to get out. And we did. We worked hard for nearly two weeks until we could mobilize at a moment’s notice.”
John stared. “Two weeks? What... how the hell did I miss that?!”
Sam chuckled. “It was really easy. You were obsessed with the Hunt. Anyway, we had a code phrase so that we’d know when it was time.”
John’s heart sank. “Don’t tell me any more, Sam. I know I’ve been a damned fool about a lot of things. I don’t need all the details.” He shook his head. “Two weeks....”
“There’s one more thing I don’t get, Dad.”
“What’s that, son?”
“That day - when you were screaming in Dean’s face, trying to get him to talk to you - when you grabbed him? You said we weren’t doing this shit again. What were you talking about?”
“After Mary died, Dean was... well, I guess ‘traumatized’ is the word. He stopped talking for months. Finally I had to teach him ASL so I wouldn’t have to guess what his shrugs meant.”
“He taught it to me alongside English.”
“I was so terrified I was never going to hear him speak again... and then to see him go mute a second time....”
Sam nodded slowly. “I asked him the trigger phrase and he said yes and I loaded everything up while you were arguing.”
“Somewhere along the line I forgot how to be a father and started acting like a drill sergeant. And it wasn’t until the two of you were gone that I started to realize what it was doing to you.”
“How long did it take you to find us? I can’t believe you didn’t know where we were until we were a week from graduation.”
“No, I... I found you before that first Thanksgiving. I just couldn’t accept that Dean could be teaching high school when he was only 16. Found you a few more times after that, but somebody always got in my way.”
“I’m glad they did,” Sam said softly. “It gave us a chance to grow up.”
“Yeah,” John conceded. “You did need to be here, away from me. I see that now.”
“We’re happy here, Dad.”
“I can tell.”
Sam smiled. “Well, I better get back.”
“Yeah, don’t want to keep that wife of yours waiting.”
Sam giggled. Honest-to-God GIGGLED.
John laughed. “Got big plans for your honeymoon?”
“Might say that.”
“Where you headed?”
“Tyler. We hear the roses are spectacular this year. And then Daphne’s folks have a timeshare up near Ruidoso.”
“Maybe by the time you get back, I’ll have figured out a good present for the four of you.”
Sam put a hand on John’s shoulder. “You came, Dad. That’s present enough.”
They hugged again and left the diner together.
John stood on the sidewalk and watched his kids - all four of them - drive away. He returned their waves and then sighed as he put his hands in his jacket pockets. Frowning, he pulled out a scrap of paper with a phone number on it and Call, Dad. D
He dialed the phone number, and when he heard who answered the phone, he smiled and shook his head fondly at the proof that his kids really meant it when they said they loved him and wanted him around:
“Mercer’s Garage, this is Leo, how can I help you?”
Summary: Azazel's not about to let Sam settle down to a white picket fence, a happy marriage, and a steady job. But Dean's got a few tricks up his sleeve.
Wedding Bell Blues
by San Antonio Rose and Enola Jones
THEN
John dragged into the Roadhouse, and Ellen immediately set a beer and a plate of food in front of him. He grunted his thanks and dug in.
When she could tell that he’d perked up enough to actually converse, she asked, “So, you headed to Beaumont next week?”
John frowned. “Beaumont? Why?”
“Graduation. Thought you’d heard.”
“No... no, I hadn’t.”
Ellen disappeared into the back room and came back with two fancy envelopes. “Sorry, just thought... well, maybe they sent yours to a drop you haven’t checked yet.”
John opened one to find an announcement that both Dean and Sam would be graduating from Lamar University, each with a BSEd....
But his heart almost stopped when he read the second announcement:
Daniel and DeLaina Vaughn and Luis and Magdalena Cortez
announce the marriages of their daughters
Daphne Michelle
to
Dean Michael Winchester
and
Susanna Patricia
to
Samuel Francis Winchester
in a double ceremony
on June 21, 2005
at two o’clock in the afternoon
at First Baptist Church, Cazadore, Texas....
A double wedding at Midsummer.
“... dammit, boys....”
NOW
June 14, 2005
“TRIIIIIIISH!!!”
Sam’s scream had Dean on his feet, knife in hand, and bolting down the hall to his brother’s room in seconds. When he got there, Sam was still thrashing and screaming his fiancée’s name.
Dean put his knife on the nightstand and shook Sam awake. “Sam! Sammy! It’s okay!”
As soon as Sam woke up enough to register Dean’s presence, he sat up and grabbed Dean in a bear hug, sobbing.
Dean hugged him back. “Shh... hey, easy, Sammy, it’s okay. Just a nightmare....”
“No,” Sam moaned. “No, it-I-I can still smell it....”
“Smell what?”
“Smoke. Sulfur. Oh, God help us... Dean, it was terrible. It was our wedding night, we were in the new house, and Tricia... Dean, she was on the ceiling.”
Dean felt himself go pale and tightened his grip on Sam.
“And... and th-then....”
“She burned?”
Sam nodded miserably.
“Did you see what it was?”
He shook his head. “Never do.”
“You’ve had this dream before?”
Sam sniffled. “Yeah. ’Bout two weeks now, every night. But this was the worst.”
Dean sighed. “All right. I don’t care what the damn realtor says. We are warding that house tomorrow.”
Sam blinked. “But....”
“But nothing. I don’t care if it’s nerves or a vision. It needs to get done, and we’ll both sleep better once we’ve done it.”
“Yeah, and you’re gonna need that sleep, aren’t you?”
Dean smirked. “Oh, yeah. I have got plans, little brother. Been waitin’ for this for six years now.”
“And Daphne’s been waitin’ for ten.”
“Don’t remind me-it’s partly your fault.” Dean tightened his arms around Sam one last time. “Think you can go back to sleep?”
Sam nodded. “Stay?”
“You’re lucky I trust Tricia with your shaggy emo head,” Dean groused, pulling the covers over himself. “Scoot over, Sasquatch.”
Sam scooted, and for what would probably be the last time, Dean snuggled down next to him to keep the nightmares at bay.
They would be taking no chances with Sam and Tricia’s house, Dean had decided. It was a minor miracle that they’d managed to get the house next door to the one where Dean and Sam had lived for ten years and where Dean would be staying after marrying Daphne. Their old house was well warded; Sam and Dean could copy the sigils and other defenses exactly, and Sam and Tricia would be safe against almost anything. And Dean and Daphne would be right next door for backup.
But Azazel’s waves kept breaking against the rock that was Cazadore, even though he kept sending more and more powerful demons. Sooner or later he would show up himself. And ever since they’d learned the demon’s name, Dean had been sure that Azazel was the demon that had killed their mother. There was no guarantee that a demon that strong would be stopped by ordinary traps, salt lines, or even a moat filled with holy water.
But according to all the lore, not even Lilith could cross consecrated iron.
So Dean had found, and Pastor Jim had consecrated, plates of iron to install in the threshold of every outside door and the sill of every window in both houses. Each one was engraved on both sides with the names of God in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, and the ones for the doors bore verses from the Vulgate like Qui habitat in adjutorio Altissimi, in protectione Dei cæli commorabitur (He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty). The local hardware store had even found pure iron screws for him.
Sam wasn’t supposed to take possession of the house until the 18th, but the former owners had already moved out, and when Dean explained to the realtor that they needed to at least get the doors warded because Sam was having nightmares, they received access to the house for that purpose only. The girls both had to work, unfortunately, but with both brothers working together, it didn’t take them all that long to get the plates in place.
No sooner had they placed the last one and started back to the kitchen for a celebratory beer, however, than Sam cried out in pain and fell to his knees. From the way Sam was clutching at his head, Dean could guess that he was suffering from a monstrous headache, but he was unresponsive for several seconds until he screamed and collapsed against Dean, crying loudly.
“Dude... what the hell?!”
Sam finally gave up on trying to speak and signed. See our wedding. Handfasting. Man with yellow eyes kills everybody. All burn.
Dean stared. “In the church?!”
Sam nodded. I think Azazel. This threat, Dean. He comes, we not stop him.
Dazed, Dean could only hold his keening brother. If holy ground couldn’t stop Azazel, how the hell was he supposed to keep Sam safe?
“The dream stopped,” Sam said at breakfast the next morning.
Dean blinked. “The one with Tricia?”
“Yeah. Didn’t really have any nightmares at all.”
“That... huh. Strange.”
“Not really.” Sam took a drink of coffee and continued. “Remember when that vision hit yesterday?”
Dean thought, and his eyes widened. Iron finished, he signed. House closed.
“I think Azazel was telling me what he was gonna do to Tricia. But he can’t do that anymore.”
“He can’t get in the house,” they chorused.
So he changes, attacks church. How far did he get?
“About even with the back pew. He was definitely on holy ground. And before you ask, I don’t think skipping the handfasting would be enough of a change; I think he chose that point because we’ll be conveniently tied up.”
We not have enough iron for church.
“Wouldn’t matter if we did, Dean. He’d just try something else-hell, he might even run us off the road with a semi if he had to. We can’t stay on defense forever. We know what he’s planning now; we need to go on offense, find a way to end this.”
How we do that in five days?
Before Sam could answer, there was a knock at the door. “UPS!”
The brothers looked at each other in confusion, and Dean answered the door and signed for the large and surprisingly heavy box. Sam joined him in the living room, and together they examined the package warily.
“Daniel Elkins, Manning, Colorado,” Sam read. “Sound familiar?”
Vaguely, Dean signed with a nod. Think we met once. Friend of Dad’s.
Carefully they opened the outer layer of brown paper and found a box covered in wedding-themed wrapping paper. On top was a note:
Dean and Sam,
I understand that congratulations are in order for you both! You probably don’t remember me, but we met once about twenty years ago; I’m a hunting acquaintance of your father’s, a retired vampire specialist.
I suspect that your father has retained very few heirlooms to pass on to you on the occasion of your marriages, so please allow me to give you this one. He has been pestering me for it for about four years now, but given the reports I’ve heard about the good work you’re doing in Cazadore, I think I would prefer for it to be in your hands than in his. There is a document in the case that explains its provenance and its virtues. May it serve you well.
Keep the faith,
Daniel Elkins
“Huh,” the brothers said as they reached the end of the note at the same time.
“Feels like a gun case,” Dean noted as he started to unwrap the box.
“Four years,” Sam mused. “Four years ago Dad said he had a lead on Azazel.”
Dean got the wrapping paper off. “It is a gun case.” He opened it gingerly, gasping as he set the documentation aside. “Colt Paterson 1836! Awesome!”
The case contained everything that was needed to clean and use the gun that was as old as the Republic of Texas, including five bullets numbered 9 through 13. Dean took the gun out of the case and examined it carefully, noting the pentagram on the grip and the engraving Non timebo mala on the barrel, while Sam looked at the documentation.
“Dean.”
“What?”
“Elkins says this gun will kill anything, up to and including demons.”
“No way.”
“Here.” Sam shoved the paper into Dean’s hand.
Dean read quickly, then looked at the gun for a moment before holding it up to his left forearm. “Might work if I get the jacket a size or two bigger,” he murmured, considering the effect.
“Dean?”
“Sammy... I think we just found ourselves a plan.” And humming the theme from The Wild, Wild West, he headed for the telephone.
It took a lot of phone calls and emails back and forth with Caleb, but Dean went to bed on the night of June 20 confident that his plan would work. And it was a good thing, too, because a massive electrical storm kicked up just as he headed up the stairs.
Sam was whimpering in pain when Dean checked on him. “He’s coming, Dean.”
Dean petted his big goofy aching head. “Shhh. I know, Sammy. I know. And it’s the last mistake he’ll ever make.”
“I know. I trust you. Just... don’t miss.”
“Dude, I’ve got five shots. How can I miss?”
Sam chuckled, and Dean patted his shoulder and went to bed.
Around 1:30, though, the phone rang.
“Heads up,” said Ash. “Su padre just looked at the weather and took off like the hellhounds were after him.”
Dean frowned. “Did he say why?”
“All he said was ‘Yellow Eyes.’”
“Lemme guess,” Dean grumbled. “He’s headin’ to Cazadore.”
“Yeeep.”
Dean’s hands moved and Ash suddenly laughed. “Lemme guess, you just ASLed somethin’ rude.”
“Oh, don’t you start.”
Ash laughed again. “Want me to alert the posse?”
Dean looked at the clock and sighed. “Nah. He’s gonna hit traffic in Dallas, probably won’t get here ’til it’s over.”
“Time is the weddin’?”
“Starts at 2.”
Ash gasped.
“What?”
“Two PM on summer solstice?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s some really powerful mojo!”
Dean chuckled. “Daphne’s idea.”
“Amazing, dude. You got one cunning bride there.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“So where you headin’ for-”
“ASHTON HARVELLE!”
“Uh-oh. Mama Bear’s not happy with anyone right now.”
Dean laughed. “We can catch up later, dude. Thanks for the heads-up about Dad. Oh, and Ash? The phone will be off tomorrow night.”
Ash laughed. “You better call me and check up.”
“When I have time-which might not be for a few days!”
“At least tell the others to keep me updated on Papa Rude.” He hung up.
Dean snickered and hung up the handset.
He managed to get another three hours of sleep before Sam’s screams woke him. Once more he rushed to Sam’s room, suspecting what the cause would be. Sure enough, Sam was thrashing, sobbing, swearing, sweating.
Dean sat on the edge of the bed and tried to still Sam’s flailing arms. “Hey, hey, Sammy. Wake up.”
Sam shuddered and gasped, his eyes snapping open.
“That’s it, Sammy. Easy. C’mon back.”
He clutched at Dean’s arms and curled into him like he was 4 instead of 22.
Dean held him and rocked him until he thought Sam might be capable of speech. “Same dream?”
Sam nodded. “Worse... got two steps closer... he kept flickering... he was a stranger and then he was Dad.”
Dean cursed quietly.
“But he was only Dad after he killed everyone... like he took him to torture us.”
“Okay, look. You tell me if you see the stranger, all right? We’re not gonna let it get that far. He’s not gettin’ Dad if I can help it.”
“I will. Not even Dad deserves that.”
Dean kissed his hairline. “Dad left the Roadhouse about three hours ago. But no matter how fast he drives, he’ll lose at least an hour on 35. With any luck, we’ll be married and Azazel will be dead before Dad even gets to Cazadore.”
“I ... I need....”
“What? Advil? Trash can? What?”
“A shower... I stink.”
Dean laughed quietly. “All right, then. C’mon.”
When breakfast was over and the dishes cleaned, Sam headed over to his house to check things out. He double-checked the wards, the salt lines... the bridal suite-er, bedroom. Everything was perfect.
In less than five hours, Sam Winchester would be in this home - a married man.
He could hardly believe it.
Sam looked up, feeling eyes on him. He wasn’t surprised to find Dean standing there.
Everything okay? Dean signed.
Sam nodded. Next time here - husband.
Nervous?
Very.
Dean chuckled.
You?
Dean made a variety of hilarious considering faces before conceding, ... yes.
“We’re a pair,” Sam reverted to speech.
Just don’t outshine the brides, Samantha.
Sam laughed heartily.
Dean grinned. Pastor Jim called-at church. Let’s go.
Sam locked the door of his house and then turned on the porch and signed, Your home, too.
Dean simply smiled and hugged his brother. Sam thumped his back and slotted into the front seat of the Impala.
Pastor Jim wasn’t the only person waiting for them at the church. He, Bobby, Rufus, and Caleb were playing 42 in one of the Sunday school rooms.
“Who’s winning?” Sam asked.
“We are,” said Caleb, meaning himself and Pastor Jim. “AL to ALI, game point.”
Rufus held up a finger and made a thoughtful noise. “Mm-hm. Two marks,” he bid.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Stakes?”
“Not playing for cash,” Caleb replied, “and that’s probably a good thing. I pass.”
“I’ll help my partner,” said Bobby.
“Take it, Rufus,” said Pastor Jim.
“Follow Me,” Rufus said with a grin-and laid all seven dominos face up. He had all but two of the doubles, the 6-5, and the 6-4.
Caleb threw his pen into the middle of the table in disgust. “A lay-down hand. I swear, Rufus....”
Cheats, Sam signed with a wink.
“I ain’t that fast, son,” Rufus laughed.
“Forget the dominos,” Bobby chuckled. “I wanna see this gun of yours, Dean.”
Dean did a funny twist with his wrist, and suddenly the gun was in his left hand. The other hunters ooh-ed appreciatively.
“The hardest part was keeping it set to where the hammer stays back but I can’t accidentally fire it,” Dean explained, pulling back his sleeve to reveal the rig Caleb had helped him design.
“So it’s literally primed to fire the second it hits your hand?” Rufus asks.
Dean nodded. “Has to be. The action’s mighty stiff, and in a case like this, even a nanosecond’s delay could cost lives.”
Caleb frowned. “You really think that bastard’ll show up?”
“He’ll be here,” Sam replied quietly. “I know it.”
“From your dreams?” Caleb asked. “I’m sorry, but that’s a little hard to believe, still.”
Dean pushed the Colt back up his sleeve until the rig clicked. “The dream changed when we warded the house too well. If it were just Sam’s nerves... that wouldn’t have made enough of a difference for the dream to change completely.”
“You believe it’s a sign?” Pastor Jim asked, completely serious.
Dean met his eyes. “Yeah. I do.”
“Good enough for me.” Pastor Jim smiled.
“Me, too,” Bobby nodded.
Caleb sighed. “Seems I’m outvoted.”
“Keep being a skeptic,” Sam smiled at him. “Keeps us sane.”
Caleb chuckled and slapped Sam’s shoulder. “C’mon, you two. Walk us through this.”
An hour later, the pair were dressed to the nines, waiting with Bobby and Caleb in the back as the two preachers walked to the front and the music began. They walked in, Dean moving to the right of the platform and Sam to the left. Caleb stood between them and Bobby sat down.
Ushers from the church brought in Mrs. Vaughn and Mrs. Cortez. And then the music shifted and Rufus walked in with Mrs. Rose on his arm. She stood off to the side and Rufus walked to the other side.
Caleb got an ‘OH SHIT!’ expression on his face and went tearing down the aisle. He returned with Mrs. Ramirez on his arm, blushing bright red. She kissed his cheek in forgiveness.
As she moved to the matron of honor place, the bridal march sounded. They had planned for the girls to enter by reverse age order of their husbands. Thus, first to enter with his white-robed and veiled daughter was Mr. Cortez. Five steps behind was Mr. Vaughn with Daphne.
Sam barely remembered to breathe. The girls were-Tricia was... gorgeous.
The brides smiled at their husbands and Pastor Jim prayed quickly in Latin. Then Pastor Tim stepped forward and said if anyone objected, now was the time to say so.
After a pause, someone murmured, “It’s about dang time....”
Everyone laughed.
Sam looked over his shoulder. “Thanks, Josh....”
The laughter grew louder. Since Mr. Blake had all but disowned Tiffany for contacting her mother, she and Josh had gotten married the summer after she graduated from high school in a small ceremony at her mother’s church in Houston. Josh and Sam had been teasing each other about their respective timings ever since-especially given that the new Robichaux couple had also been wed midday at the summer solstice.
Pastor Jim asked who gave these women and the fathers said in unison, “Her mother and I do.” They then sat down.
Vows were said. Rings were exchanged, after which Caleb moved away. Then Tim nodded at Jim, who stepped forward with two lengths of rope.
Mr. and Mrs. Cortez exchanged a worried look.
Tricia looked at them as she handed her bouquet to Mrs. Ramirez. “Es okay, Papa - Mama. Prometo.”
Daphne handed her bouquet to Mrs. Ramirez as well; then both couples turned to face each other. At Pastor Jim’s command, they clasped right hands, their left ones down at their sides. First to Dean and Daphne, then to Sam and Tricia, Pastor Jim tied a loose knot joining their hands together. And, thus bound, they confessed their love and loyalty and their intention to remain forever bound by the ties of love and loyalty - to become family.
When he glanced up from their joined hands, Dean found himself looking at the same Daphne he’d envisioned the day he fell for her-her gorgeous eyes shining with joy and unshed tears, looking up at him through her veil...
... and suddenly there was the incongruous sound of a single person clapping slowly in pure sarcasm from the back of the sanctuary, and Dean’s blood ran cold.
“How touching,” said a male voice that carried all the way to the altar. Dean looked out to see a plain-featured man with a dentured smile starting toward the center aisle. “But I’m afraid the party’s over.” And his eyes turned sulfur yellow.
“DEAN!” Sam screamed.
Immediately Dean snapped the Colt down into his left hand, raised it, and fired. The sight of the gun elicited some gasps, but when the man lit up from the inside like he was on fire... well, that prompted screams, and Mrs. Cortez fainted. Even the normally unflappable Mr. Cooper looked surprised.
Dean watched the man fall, convulse, and go still, the stench of sulfur briefly overpowering the incense in Pastor Jim’s censer. He was ready to fire again if this turned out to be a trick, ready to grab Daphne and run if the place caught fire and trusting Sam to do the same with Tricia. But all was still and silent.
Finally, Sam said, “He’s dead, Dean.”
Dean lowered the gun, and everybody started breathing again. Daphne hugged him as much as their bound hands would allow. Then Dean looked up-straight into the startled eyes of his father, who was standing in the doorway, shotgun in hand.
“Dean?!” John breathed.
Dean glanced over at Sam, who shook his head minutely. He wasn’t possessed; it really was John. And while Dean wasn’t sure how Sam knew or why he trusted that instinct, he did trust Sam. So he looked back at John with a small, wry smile.
John still looked lost, bewildered, incredulous, hardly daring to hope. “What... how... Dean?”
Dean’s hands weren’t free to sign, so he simply mouthed, For Mom.
Bobby stood up. “John,” he called. “Come here.”
Still looking stunned, still holding the shotgun, John walked to the front of the church. Mrs. Rose got Mrs. Cortez awake as Josh and Mr. Cooper carried the dead body of Azazel away. Josh walked back in alone as Bobby got John seated beside him on the family of the groom’s pew.
As for the shotgun, Rufus quietly spirited it out of the sanctuary. Bobby took the Colt and held onto it.
Pastor Jim held his hand over both knots while Pastor Tim said, “And now, by the authority vested in us by God and by the states of Texas and Minnesota...”
They finished in unison. “We now pronounce you man and wife.” Pastor Jim untied one set of knots, and Pastor Tim intoned, “Ladies and gentlemen, we present to you Dean and Daphne Winchester.”
Pastor Jim repeated the action, and Pastor Tim said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we present to you Sam and Tricia Winchester. Gentlemen, kiss your brides.”
Two veils were lifted, and two brothers kissed their brides as the church erupted in applause and cheers.
Dean suddenly didn’t care that they were in church in front of everybody. He kissed Daphne hard, hungrily, and felt her respond in anticipation.
She was his, and he was hers, and they were free.
They had a hell of a lot to celebrate.
John suddenly realized that he had tears running down his face. He whispered, “Our family just doubled in size, Mary... I hope they know what they’re doing.”
“They do, John,” Bobby rumbled in his ear. “They absolutely do.”
“They’re in danger, still... aren’t they?” he whispered.
Bobby shrugged. “Isn’t everybody?”
John sighed.
Bobby nudged him. “My motel room is 135. Go shower and change your clothes. The reception is at the school cafeteria. Meet us there in an hour.”
“Are... are you sure it’s okay?”
Bobby nodded and watched him go. Then he informed the boys what he’d done.
“Think he’ll behave?” Dean asked.
“If he don’t,” Rufus said, “I’ll escort him out myself.”
Dean nodded. “Fair enough.”
Pictures were taken. Then the two couples headed to the school.
When they arrived, they heard someone call, “Dean. Sam.” It was Cooper, walking toward them. “You four, come with me.”
The brothers blinked at each other, shrugged, and followed.
The body possessed by Azazel had been cleaned and lay on top of a small pyre. Cooper handed four sticks to them. “Thought you’d like to do the honors, boys. He took your mother.”
Dean shook his head. “Dad should be here for this.”
“I am,” John replied, joining them. “But you shot him, Dean.”
“Dean’s right,” Sam said, talking aloud to John for the first time in ten years. “It was your wife he burned. It’s only right that yours is one of the hands that burns him.”
Cooper smiled and produced a fifth stick. He walked up to John and held it out.
John’s throat tightened as he tried to speak, but nothing came out. Finally he signed, Thank you.
Cooper nodded. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit all five. Starting with John’s.
At a nod from Dean, John set his torch to the pyre first. The kids followed suit.
“There was ID in his pocket,” Cooper said after all five had placed their torches. “The victim’s name was Darren Walker.”
“Rest in peace, Mr. Walker,” Sam said with unusual respect. “I’m so sorry your life ended this way.”
John squeezed Sam’s shoulder. Sam permitted the touch; then he actually hugged his father before he wrapped his arms around his wife.
“So proud of you, boys,” John choked out, looking first at Sam and then turning to Dean. “S-s-so damn proud....” The tears he’d been trying to suppress finally came spilling out.
Seeing this, Dean looked at Daphne. At her nod, he moved forward and hugged his father as well.
I love you, he signed with one hand into John’s back.
That made John cry harder.
When at last John was able to let go of Dean, Daphne tugged on his sleeve. “C’mon, Dad. Let’s go have some cake.”
John nodded and followed them, leaving Cooper to tend the pyre.
When the body burned to ash, he whispered, “Good riddance, Azazel,” and snapped his fingers.
The pyre vanished as if it had never been there.
Around 3:00 the next morning, Dean licked the last of the chocolate off Daphne’s nose and asked, “So... was it worth the wait?”
She hummed contentedly and kissed his collarbone. “If we don’t have kids, it will not be for lack of trying.”
He chuckled and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “That’s my girl.”
They were asleep in minutes.
Once they were deeply asleep, both Dean and Daphne winced as a brief burst of pain lanced through their chests, running along the ribs from breastbone to spine. But it wasn’t enough to actually wake them, especially when an unseen hand caressed the tops of their heads and soothed the pain.
“They’re so cute when they’re sleeping,” Gabriel remarked to Castiel once he was back outside.
“You truly care for them,” Castiel observed.
Gabriel shrugged. “Ah. They’ve grown on me.”
He was treated to one of Castiel’s rare amused smiles.
“You get your present delivered?”
“Indeed,” Castiel replied. “It may not be much use if either Zachariah or Lilith works out that they still live here, and it will not hide them from human eyes.”
“Yeah, I know.” Gabriel pondered the houses for a moment before adding an extra layer of Enochian wards to each and to the Impala. “But at least when they’re not home, Zach will have to go to extraordinary lengths to find them, like using human informants. And you know Zach hates dealing with humans.”
“Still, he will not find it so easy to put Sam to the purpose Azazel intended. He is bound now by the strongest bonds humans can create.”
“And one that they can’t.” When Castiel tilted his head in confusion, Gabriel explained, “Agape. It’s not often Dad’s love finds such deep and open human channels in one family, but these four? And especially Sam and Dean? It’s...” Gabriel swallowed hard. “It’s almost like Home was always supposed to be. Used to be.”
“May it be so again,” Castiel replied... and hugged him.
Gabriel hugged back. “Thanks, bub.”
Castiel backed away awkwardly. “You do fear, though, that this is not the end of Azazel’s plan, that it did not die with him.”
“I wish it were that easy. Wasn’t Azazel’s plan, y’know; it was Lucifer’s. Zach got wind of it, felt confident it would work apart from the ending, and decided to lend a hand in bringing it to pass. Dean won’t break the first seal now, and it’s a stretch to think that anyone else in this generation can. But you know Zach.”
“He won’t let it go.”
“So they’re still gonna need all the help they can get until we can make sure the plan won’t work at all, ever. At least not with these two muttonheads.”
Castiel looked thoughtful, then flitted into Dean and Daphne’s house briefly before returning to Gabriel.
“What did you do?”
“I warded Dean’s safe and the case that holds the Colt. The hands of only four people may now open them.”
Gabriel laughed and slugged Castiel’s shoulder. “I like your style, little brother.”
Castiel glowed more brightly than ever at the praise.
“For Pete’s sake, John,” said Caleb at breakfast, “give the kids some space. It’s the day after their wedding.”
“Caleb, I just got them back!”
“And they will still be here at lunchtime. Settle.”
John took a deep breath.
“John,” Bobby warned.
“What?”
“You don’t want to get shot again, you sit down and eat your breakfast. Let the kids come to you. After yesterday, I got a feelin’ they want to.”
John sat down and ate his breakfast. “Never told you that Sammy shot me.”
“No, but Sam did.”
“Figured Dean would try to take credit for that.”
“Credit!” Jim laughed. “Sam came to me for absolution!”
John’s eyes went huge. “He did?”
“The boys never did hate you, John,” Bobby explained. “Not really. Yeah, you hurt ’em pretty bad, and they didn’t want you around while you still had that grudge match with Azazel to settle. But they never hated you. After the fact, Sam was kind of relieved Daphne’d fetched a gun she knew had salt rounds in it.”
“Those ladies are good for them, Johnny,” Jim said.
Abashed, John ate in silence for a while, pondering his life and relationships.
“Penny for ’em,” Bobby said at last.
John sighed, looking down at his plate and fiddling with his fork. “I have been doing this for nearly 22 years now... chasing this thing, wanting to avenge my Mary... and now that it’s over...” He looked up. “I feel a little bit at sea. I didn’t expect to survive this quest. But I did. What do I do now?”
And the door to the diner chimed as four very familiar young people walked in.
Bobby nudged John with a look that plainly said, See, I told you so.
Caleb stood up and with a “HEY! HERE!” gestured the newlyweds over to their massive table.
“Tricia didn’t feel like cooking,” Sam explained after a round of back-pounding hugs.
Then all four looked at John and signed in unison, Hi, Dad.
Kids, John signed back, his mouth full.
Daphne pushed Dean into the seat next to John and sat down on his other side. Once the other hunters were seated, Sam and Tricia slid in across from Dean and Daphne.
The smiles the boys gave John weren’t quite as broad and sunny as the ones they’d given the other men at the table, but they were genuine.
Their waitress - Garnet Petersen - came over and took their orders, then congratulated them as she left them to put their orders in.
“So,” Tricia asked brightly, “how’s everyone this morning?”
“Well-rested and ready to head out,” Rufus said with a grin.
“Mildly sleep-deprived,” Daphne replied with a wink at Dean.
“Same here,” Tricia smirked.
Sam blushed. “Not in front of Dad...” he hissed.
“It’s okay, son,” John laughed softly. “I was a newlywed once, myself. I know the score.”
Dean bumped his shoulder. “Y’know what, Dad? I’m glad you came.”
“Even after everything?” John asked sincerely.
“Yeah. I wasn’t too excited when Ash told me, but... you needed to be here. You needed that closure.”
“I’m glad it was a Winchester’s hand he died at.”
Dean smiled and leaned against John briefly-formerly the Winchester equivalent of a hug. John’s arm rose and encircled Dean’s shoulders. His feet, under the table, sandwiched one of Sam’s.
“I’m proud of you boys,” he said quietly. “I mean that.”
“So what will you do now?” Daphne asked.
“I don’t know,” John sighed in perfect honesty.
“Most people retire,” Tricia observed.
“We’re not most people,” all three Winchester men chorused.
“Have you ever considered piracy?” Caleb joked, attempting to sound like Cary Elwes.
Rufus continued, “Or is your name Alan Bourdillion-Ter-who?”
“Terhane,” said Bobby, playing along.
“Traherne,” the kids all said at the same time.
John looked at them oddly. “You managed to find John Wayne fans?!”
“Of course,” Sam grinned. “It’s Texas.”
“Or you could become a tour guide, much as you’ve been through the states!” Caleb teased.
John threw his napkin at him.
“Seriously, though, Dad,” Dean said, “I’ll be quittin’ my job at the garage pretty soon, going full-time at the high school. Mercer’s gonna need a good mechanic.”
John looks at him incredulously. “After.... After all I’ve done to you boys over the years... you want me to stay?”
They shrugged.
“At least that way we’d know you were safe,” Sam said meaningfully.
“I don’t know if I can give up hunting permanently,” John said. “It’s ... It’s been my life for 22 years.”
“The boys hunt part-time and are involved in other ways,” Tricia pointed out.
“But think about it,” Dean continued. “Why do you hunt? How satisfying will it be to hunt if you’re not chasing Azazel? Are you in it to save lives, or only because you don’t know what else to do?”
“Life is too short not to do what you love,” Daphne added.
“I don’t know what I love anymore. Other than the people sitting here,” John admitted.
The others smiled at that.
“Think about it, Dad,” Dean said seriously as the kids’ food arrived.
“I will, son.”
Dean smiled and signed a quick blessing over the food, and the other hunters steered the conversation onto lighter topics.
John just stared at his oldest. To see him praying... even in ASL... that was still a kick in the head. But he couldn’t blame it on the Trickster anymore-not after it had helped him yesterday without any motive except letting him grieve with his boys... and his girls. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that being anymore - but it really, genuinely seemed to like his kids. Maybe... maybe it wasn’t all bad.
Maybe Cazadore wasn’t, either.
Sam leaned forward and tapped John’s wrist. Where you go?
John shook himself. “Sorry. Just... just thinking.”
“What about?”
“Life, the universe, and everything.”
“Forty-two,” Caleb, Rufus, Sam and Tricia all said at the same time.
Daphne threw her head back and laughed. Dean just shook his head.
“Afraid I didn’t catch that one at all,” Pastor Jim chuckled.
“Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” replied Bobby.
Dean let out a long-suffering sigh. “All I can say is that my dad is one hoopy frood who always knows where his towel is.”
Even John laughed at that. Then they laughed harder at Pastor Jim’s confused expression.
When at last the kids finished eating and the group got ready to leave, John said, “Sam, wait up a minute. I need to talk to you.”
Sam nodded at Dean, who nodded back and went on. Tricia hung back, until Sam kissed her cheek and whispered something; then she kissed his lips and headed after Dean and Daphne. “Okay.”
“Listen, son, there’s... well, I don’t know how much of an issue it’ll be now, but there’s something you should know. About... about yourself.”
“What is it?”
“There was a reason Yellow Eyes was in your nursery that night.”
“Dad... is this about the demon blood?”
John stared. “How the hell do you know about that?”
“We figured it out four years ago-right after we got these.” Sam unbuttoned his shirt partway and pulled it aside to show John a tattoo of the anti-possession sigil.
John gasped loudly.
“Tricia found a cure, too,” Sam continued, rebuttoning his shirt. “I dunno if... if they still call me the Boy King or whatever, but... we fixed it. Hell’s got no claim on me now.”
“I thought it was impossible to fix.”
Sam shrugged.
“You’ve got a smart one, there.”
Sam grinned and ducked his head. “She’s pretty special.”
“She is. So you’re completely free?”
Sam nodded. “As far as we can tell.”
“No side effects?”
“Well, maybe.”
“What’s happened, Sam?”
“I can’t tell you how I was cured, Dad. I can’t. I’m not permitted to. But it’s thorough and it’s ... Dad, please don’t hate me.”
John put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “No, son. I don’t hate you. What’s the side effect you think you’ve experienced?”
“I’ve had visions, Dad. Some connected with Azazel. Some not. We could take the blood out of me, but we don’t think we erased the psychic abilities it gave me.”
John nodded slowly. “Okay. That’s... okay. We can live with visions.”
“And I’m faster and stronger than I should be for my build.”
John snorted. “’Course you are. Your old man’s a Marine.”
“You’re not... not gonna hunt me?”
“No! Sam-how... how could you even think that? You’re my son.”
“I was contaminated by demon blood. By the blood of the thing that killed your wife and my mother. I apparently am Hell’s Boy King. I have visions and demonic speed and strength.”
“And yet you’ve won the love of a girl like Tricia.”
“Dad...”
“And yet,” John plowed on, “you believe in God and try to live up to His ideals.” Sam ducked his head again, but John caught his chin and made Sam look him in the eye. “Sam. I-won’t deny that I’m still worried about you. For you. But from what I can tell... you’re...” He sighed. “You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din.”
“What is it with you and Dean and conversing in movie quotes?” Sam laughed.
John chuckled but said, “I mean it, Sam. I’m damn proud of you. You may not be out of danger, but it’s plain enough that...” you’re a good man.
The fact that John had signed that last bit brought tears to Sam’s eyes. He responded in kind. I try to be.
John pulled him into a hug. When he let go, he added, “And if anybody does try to hunt you... they’ll have me to deal with.”
Sam cupped his father’s cheek. “I never thought we’d get along.”
John chuckled ruefully. “I stick around too long, we might not. I know I’m not the easiest person to like.”
Sam sat down and indicated John should do the same. “I knew you were obsessed and it got in the way of family. I don’t know what made Dean see it, though. Or why he reacted like he did and ran with me. When I ask, he just says it’s in the past.”
“In a way, I’m glad he did. It took losing you for me to recognize even a tenth of the mistakes I was making, and I don’t think it really hit home until this morning just how obsessed I’ve been. I don’t know if I’m able to change much after all these years, but... Yellow Eyes is gone. I’ve gotta change course somehow.”
“We’ll help any way we can. But Dad... what happened?”
John sighed. “I don’t remember very clearly-I was drunk. He was trying to ask me something, and I snapped at him. I don’t... I don’t think I actually hurt him physically, but I must have said something... ‘Shut up and leave me alone,’ something like that. ‘Don’t ever speak to me again,’ maybe. I don’t know. Took me a few days to realize he’d quit talking again, and then....” He stopped, fighting tears.
“And then?” Sam prompted, his eyes horrified.
“And then you were gone.”
“Dean woke me up early about a week before his 16th birthday,” Sam informed John. “He told me we had to start making plans to get out. And we did. We worked hard for nearly two weeks until we could mobilize at a moment’s notice.”
John stared. “Two weeks? What... how the hell did I miss that?!”
Sam chuckled. “It was really easy. You were obsessed with the Hunt. Anyway, we had a code phrase so that we’d know when it was time.”
John’s heart sank. “Don’t tell me any more, Sam. I know I’ve been a damned fool about a lot of things. I don’t need all the details.” He shook his head. “Two weeks....”
“There’s one more thing I don’t get, Dad.”
“What’s that, son?”
“That day - when you were screaming in Dean’s face, trying to get him to talk to you - when you grabbed him? You said we weren’t doing this shit again. What were you talking about?”
“After Mary died, Dean was... well, I guess ‘traumatized’ is the word. He stopped talking for months. Finally I had to teach him ASL so I wouldn’t have to guess what his shrugs meant.”
“He taught it to me alongside English.”
“I was so terrified I was never going to hear him speak again... and then to see him go mute a second time....”
Sam nodded slowly. “I asked him the trigger phrase and he said yes and I loaded everything up while you were arguing.”
“Somewhere along the line I forgot how to be a father and started acting like a drill sergeant. And it wasn’t until the two of you were gone that I started to realize what it was doing to you.”
“How long did it take you to find us? I can’t believe you didn’t know where we were until we were a week from graduation.”
“No, I... I found you before that first Thanksgiving. I just couldn’t accept that Dean could be teaching high school when he was only 16. Found you a few more times after that, but somebody always got in my way.”
“I’m glad they did,” Sam said softly. “It gave us a chance to grow up.”
“Yeah,” John conceded. “You did need to be here, away from me. I see that now.”
“We’re happy here, Dad.”
“I can tell.”
Sam smiled. “Well, I better get back.”
“Yeah, don’t want to keep that wife of yours waiting.”
Sam giggled. Honest-to-God GIGGLED.
John laughed. “Got big plans for your honeymoon?”
“Might say that.”
“Where you headed?”
“Tyler. We hear the roses are spectacular this year. And then Daphne’s folks have a timeshare up near Ruidoso.”
“Maybe by the time you get back, I’ll have figured out a good present for the four of you.”
Sam put a hand on John’s shoulder. “You came, Dad. That’s present enough.”
They hugged again and left the diner together.
John stood on the sidewalk and watched his kids - all four of them - drive away. He returned their waves and then sighed as he put his hands in his jacket pockets. Frowning, he pulled out a scrap of paper with a phone number on it and Call, Dad. D
He dialed the phone number, and when he heard who answered the phone, he smiled and shook his head fondly at the proof that his kids really meant it when they said they loved him and wanted him around:
“Mercer’s Garage, this is Leo, how can I help you?”