Consequences (Epilogue)
Consequences Epilogue
“Slow down,” Dean ordered from the passenger seat, half turned to face the car-seat in the back.
“I’m only going 40,” Sam said with a chuckle, but when he got a dour face from Dean, he gently pressed on the brake.
“Do you think she’s ready? It’s barely been a month.”
Sam smiled; they’d had this discussion at least four times already. “Yes, Dean. She’s eating, breathing on her own and maintaining her temperature without the warmers. All the mile markers. She’s ready to come home with us.” Sam put his hand on Dean’s knee. “And we’re ready for her too.”
“Yeah?” Dean drew in a shaky deep breath and when he turned to his brother, Sam didn’t miss the wet shine in Dean’s green eyes.
“Yeah.” Sam squeezed the muscle of Dean’s thigh and Dean took a final look back at the tiny girl before turning back around in his seat and taking Sam’s hand in his.
Dean watched out the window and Sam could tell from the crease of his brow Dean had once again been sucked into his own head. Sam returned his attention to the road in front of him and his own thoughts turned to everything that had happened since that terrifying day they’d finally removed the mark from Dean’s arm for good.
It had been far from an easy road. Though Dean’s soul was no longer in danger from the evil pull of the mark, his mind had not escaped the damage. Months spent as a demon with no care for the consequences of his actions, and then the horror of what he’d had to do to another human being to get rid of Cain’s curse, had taken a heavy toll on Dean’s emotional and mental state. He refused to talk about it, but Sam had caught him staring off into nothing in a trance and had more often than not been woken from Dean thrashing about in the bed in the throes of an awful nightmare. Dean would sometimes allow Sam to provide him the physical comfort of holding him, but never said a word about the atrocities projecting from his subconscious to cause such terror.
The only time Sam saw Dean close to peaceful was during their visits to the hospital with their daughter. There had been a short discussion about what to name her, the first suggestion being Mary, after their mother, but they also wanted to honor Emily for her sacrifice. In the end they chose Mary, and the first time they held her and called her by name, they both agreed it was a perfect fit. They were both keeping a close watch on her health, but so far she seemed to have escaped any complications from her two fathers being related. Sam had done research and it appeared most of the danger came from a higher probability of doubled-up recessive genes causing rarer diseases to be more likely. Though Sam and Dean didn’t know a lot about their family medical history, some searching into Henry’s file in the archives of the Men of Letters quelled their worries when it revealed no major health issues at all. They had found scant information about the medical history of Mary’s family, but so far there were no red flags. Still, Dean had asked for the full battery of tests to be run on her, and though the doctors initially resisted, Dean’s insistence and Sam’s puppy eyes ensured Mary was tested for everything from Addison’s to Zunich-Kaye’s syndrome. Mary came up negative for all of it.
There had been some concern about her breathing and the nurses felt it likely that she would develop asthma and a respiratory therapist was added to the list of regular follow-ups the boys would have to bring their daughter back to the hospital for. Since she was still so young, there was little way to know about her vision, but Sam and Dean were taught the things to watch out for.
So much of the last month had been a blur of medical tests and hospital visits, but there had also been more than their fair share of waiting and nights of having to leave Mary at the hospital at the end of the day. Sam was incredibly excited to bring his daughter home, and despite the new dad anxiety, he knew Dean couldn’t wait to finally have Mary in their home with them.
“Thanks, Sammy.”
“For what?”
“Everything. You never gave up on me,” he looked back to the baby, “on her. On family.”
Sam smiled wide, dimples popping deep into his cheeks. “I never will, Dean.”
In his youth Sam had coveted a happy ending for himself with a college diploma and a wife behind a white picket fence, but that was never what he was destined to have. This was his happy ending, his and Dean’s. A career of helping and saving people, a home in the bunker, love with his soul mate in his brother, and now a daughter to complete their family. Certainly nothing you’d find portrayed on any sitcom or on the shiny cover of a magazine, but for Sam and Dean, it was just about perfect.