It's a Long Way to the Promised Land (Dean & Sam PG-13) Epilogue
Master Post - Prologue - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4
Four Months Later
+
It was well after dark when Sam got back to the apartment after spending an evening in the library studying for midterms. Dean was on the couch drinking a beer and watching a movie that looked really old and even more cheesy. “What are you watching?”
“Barbarella,” Dean replied, eyes glued to the screen. “There's this thing called the Excessive Machine, and it kills you with sex. What a way to go, huh?”
“That sounds...” Sam sought for a word, one that hopefully wouldn't end up with him having to sit down and watch the movie with his brother. “Different.”
“This just might be the worst movie I've ever seen. And I mean ever.” Dean stood, going into the kitchen where Sam watched him rinse out the beer bottle before tossing it in the recycling. Sam had been the one that imposed they start recycling and had been impressed that while Dean had complained a little, called it something “yuppie douches” did, he was at least following through. “So how was your date?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “For the thousandth time, studying for midterms with a classmate is not a date.”
“Is said classmate a girl?”
“Yeah.”
“And there wasn't anyone else there?”
“...No.”
“Then,” Dean said smugly, returning from the kitchen with another beer for himself and one for Sam, “I stand by what I said - it's a date. So what's she look like? Is she cute? Smart? Entirely human?”
Sam sat next to Dean on the couch, taking a long pull from the bottle. Sometimes he wondered if his brother should be the lawyer with his gift for interrogation. “Yeah, she's cute - kind of tall, red, wavy hair, hazel eyes, looks a little like that tennis player, the blonde one in all the commercials. She certainly gets Civil Procedure better than I do.” Sam chose to ignore the last question and had a sudden, frightening thought of Dean having him invite her over to dinner the evening of a full moon with his brother accidentally spilling rock salt on her, and having her drink holy water. He doubted his brother would, but just in case, Sam decided that Dean needed to know any names just yet. Besides, it wasn't a date.
He spaced out at the movie, willing it to end, and Sam nearly let out an audible sigh of relief when the credits started rolling. Dean grabbed the remote, jumping to the TV guide channel, and switched it to the channel that was starting Jaws: The Revenge shortly. “Is this what you've been doing all evening?”
“After dinner, pretty much.” Sam watched his brother lean back and put his feet up on the coffee table that Sam had found on the side of the road, abandoned, just needing a new coat of varnish. “Finished refurbishing a '66 Mustang today - some guy and his sister pitched in to get it for their dad's sixtieth birthday. I guess it was his first new car or something. Anyway, they wanted it exactly like the one he had, but then they wanted me to put a satellite radio in it. What a waste of a perfectly beautiful car.”
“You were pissed when you saw the iPod in the Impala and that was just an FM transmitter plugged into the cigarette light.”
“She's got a sensitive soul,” Dean said, completely serious. “Bad enough you don' talk to her and then you have to change things like she isn't good enough as she is.”
“So they want the car exactly the day for their dad, but then they put a satellite radio in it?” Sam asked, not wanting Dean to start waxing poetic about the Impala. “What's the point in having it the same, then?”
“Hell if I know. I just write up an estimate and do the job if they're okay with it. It's a convertible, too, so it's not like he'll be able to hear the radio with the top down and the engine purring. Assuming he takes her on the highway, anyway, which he better since I had to upgrade the transmission and install a bigger engine. I thought Mike's eyes were going to fall out of his head when he saw the final bill.”
Silence enveloped the room as poor Sean Brody got eaten by the shark. Although, Sam thought, maybe it wasn't that tragic because it saved him from having to be in the rest of the movie. It started to hit a little too close to home, in Sam's opinion, as the movie continued, Ellen Brody convinced that the shark was out to destroy her family as it had killed her son and allegedly her husband. Dean seemed to sense this, too, as without warning he changed the channel, finding Rocky on elsewhere and left it on that.
It had taken Sam a few weeks to get used to law school. Finishing up his degree had been relatively easy, but now he was being challenged academically again, something he hadn't allowed himself to want for a while. After Dad died he had resigned himself to a life of hunting, to the family business, learned and even started to enjoy it, never even entertaining the thought of being done and moving on until Sioux City, the magicians forcing him to realize that he didn't still want to be living this life when he was old. It had let him down the wrong track, he understood now, but, surprisingly, it had also worked. It wasn't supposed to, but Castiel had disobeyed orders and saved them. Sam wished he knew what happened to the angel for doing that; everything he and Dean had right now, they owed to him.
“Talked to Bobby today,” Dean said out of the blue. The last time either had seen him, he was armed with the Colt, trying to convince them that walking straight into Hell was the dumbest, most pigheaded idea they'd ever had, and they were definitely their father's sons. “He called to check up, make sure we weren't dead.”
“What'd you tell him?”
“Oh, you know, that we've been living in Lawrence, I've been working as a mechanic, and you're back on track to being a big shot lawyer. Told him to stop by if he was ever in the area or if he just wanted to come down to visit. Said some bullshit about being happy for us, proud of us, blah blah blah.” Sam smiled at the nonchalant way Dean mentioned the last part. He could tell that his brother was really beaming, at least on the inside. Dean took a long sip from his bottle, looking down, like what he was going to say next was difficult for him. “Bobby, um, Bobby also said that the life we have now is the one Dad really always wanted for us.”
Ever since Dean was brought back, since learning that Heaven and angels were real, Sam had entertained the idea of his parents together, happy, at peace, and watching over them. He especially hoped it was true now. Sam didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet, letting the movie fill the silence. As long as they did their penance, Sam thought, they'd join them someday, as well.
That demon had said something right when it possessed Dean, Sam had realized eventually after they returned from St. Augustine. It had said that a normal life was the promise land for hunters. They were supposed to be done when the Yellow-Eyed Demon was killed, but Dean had made the deal for Sam's life, so they tried to stop that and failed. During those four months, things set in motion the beginnings of the end of the world, the apocalypse itself, and they had to finish it.
Sam was six months old when this life started for his family. Twenty-seven years later it was over for good. Sure they still had charms throughout the apartment, weapons in the Impala's trunk and throughout their rooms, but Dean himself had said a tiger couldn't change its stripes. Just because they weren't supposed to get involved didn't mean they couldn't protect themselves if it was necessary.
“Do you want another beer?” Dean asked, rising.
“Yeah, sure,” he replied. It was Thursday, but he didn't have class until noon tomorrow, so why not? He could hear Dean rummaging through the cabinets, presumably for a bag of Doritos or pretzels or something. “Do we still have any Chinese food from the other night?”
“Yeah - you want it?”
“As long as there's nothing growing on it,” Sam replied.
He could hear the microwave going as Rocky ran up the steps to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Sam remembered Dean had wanted to reenact that after they entombed Holmes's ghost with Jo, but it never happened. Sam got what he wanted going back to school; he thought Dean deserved something for himself, too. “Hey, Dean,” Sam called into the kitchen. “So what kind of dog?”
Four Months Later
+
It was well after dark when Sam got back to the apartment after spending an evening in the library studying for midterms. Dean was on the couch drinking a beer and watching a movie that looked really old and even more cheesy. “What are you watching?”
“Barbarella,” Dean replied, eyes glued to the screen. “There's this thing called the Excessive Machine, and it kills you with sex. What a way to go, huh?”
“That sounds...” Sam sought for a word, one that hopefully wouldn't end up with him having to sit down and watch the movie with his brother. “Different.”
“This just might be the worst movie I've ever seen. And I mean ever.” Dean stood, going into the kitchen where Sam watched him rinse out the beer bottle before tossing it in the recycling. Sam had been the one that imposed they start recycling and had been impressed that while Dean had complained a little, called it something “yuppie douches” did, he was at least following through. “So how was your date?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “For the thousandth time, studying for midterms with a classmate is not a date.”
“Is said classmate a girl?”
“Yeah.”
“And there wasn't anyone else there?”
“...No.”
“Then,” Dean said smugly, returning from the kitchen with another beer for himself and one for Sam, “I stand by what I said - it's a date. So what's she look like? Is she cute? Smart? Entirely human?”
Sam sat next to Dean on the couch, taking a long pull from the bottle. Sometimes he wondered if his brother should be the lawyer with his gift for interrogation. “Yeah, she's cute - kind of tall, red, wavy hair, hazel eyes, looks a little like that tennis player, the blonde one in all the commercials. She certainly gets Civil Procedure better than I do.” Sam chose to ignore the last question and had a sudden, frightening thought of Dean having him invite her over to dinner the evening of a full moon with his brother accidentally spilling rock salt on her, and having her drink holy water. He doubted his brother would, but just in case, Sam decided that Dean needed to know any names just yet. Besides, it wasn't a date.
He spaced out at the movie, willing it to end, and Sam nearly let out an audible sigh of relief when the credits started rolling. Dean grabbed the remote, jumping to the TV guide channel, and switched it to the channel that was starting Jaws: The Revenge shortly. “Is this what you've been doing all evening?”
“After dinner, pretty much.” Sam watched his brother lean back and put his feet up on the coffee table that Sam had found on the side of the road, abandoned, just needing a new coat of varnish. “Finished refurbishing a '66 Mustang today - some guy and his sister pitched in to get it for their dad's sixtieth birthday. I guess it was his first new car or something. Anyway, they wanted it exactly like the one he had, but then they wanted me to put a satellite radio in it. What a waste of a perfectly beautiful car.”
“You were pissed when you saw the iPod in the Impala and that was just an FM transmitter plugged into the cigarette light.”
“She's got a sensitive soul,” Dean said, completely serious. “Bad enough you don' talk to her and then you have to change things like she isn't good enough as she is.”
“So they want the car exactly the day for their dad, but then they put a satellite radio in it?” Sam asked, not wanting Dean to start waxing poetic about the Impala. “What's the point in having it the same, then?”
“Hell if I know. I just write up an estimate and do the job if they're okay with it. It's a convertible, too, so it's not like he'll be able to hear the radio with the top down and the engine purring. Assuming he takes her on the highway, anyway, which he better since I had to upgrade the transmission and install a bigger engine. I thought Mike's eyes were going to fall out of his head when he saw the final bill.”
Silence enveloped the room as poor Sean Brody got eaten by the shark. Although, Sam thought, maybe it wasn't that tragic because it saved him from having to be in the rest of the movie. It started to hit a little too close to home, in Sam's opinion, as the movie continued, Ellen Brody convinced that the shark was out to destroy her family as it had killed her son and allegedly her husband. Dean seemed to sense this, too, as without warning he changed the channel, finding Rocky on elsewhere and left it on that.
It had taken Sam a few weeks to get used to law school. Finishing up his degree had been relatively easy, but now he was being challenged academically again, something he hadn't allowed himself to want for a while. After Dad died he had resigned himself to a life of hunting, to the family business, learned and even started to enjoy it, never even entertaining the thought of being done and moving on until Sioux City, the magicians forcing him to realize that he didn't still want to be living this life when he was old. It had let him down the wrong track, he understood now, but, surprisingly, it had also worked. It wasn't supposed to, but Castiel had disobeyed orders and saved them. Sam wished he knew what happened to the angel for doing that; everything he and Dean had right now, they owed to him.
“Talked to Bobby today,” Dean said out of the blue. The last time either had seen him, he was armed with the Colt, trying to convince them that walking straight into Hell was the dumbest, most pigheaded idea they'd ever had, and they were definitely their father's sons. “He called to check up, make sure we weren't dead.”
“What'd you tell him?”
“Oh, you know, that we've been living in Lawrence, I've been working as a mechanic, and you're back on track to being a big shot lawyer. Told him to stop by if he was ever in the area or if he just wanted to come down to visit. Said some bullshit about being happy for us, proud of us, blah blah blah.” Sam smiled at the nonchalant way Dean mentioned the last part. He could tell that his brother was really beaming, at least on the inside. Dean took a long sip from his bottle, looking down, like what he was going to say next was difficult for him. “Bobby, um, Bobby also said that the life we have now is the one Dad really always wanted for us.”
Ever since Dean was brought back, since learning that Heaven and angels were real, Sam had entertained the idea of his parents together, happy, at peace, and watching over them. He especially hoped it was true now. Sam didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet, letting the movie fill the silence. As long as they did their penance, Sam thought, they'd join them someday, as well.
That demon had said something right when it possessed Dean, Sam had realized eventually after they returned from St. Augustine. It had said that a normal life was the promise land for hunters. They were supposed to be done when the Yellow-Eyed Demon was killed, but Dean had made the deal for Sam's life, so they tried to stop that and failed. During those four months, things set in motion the beginnings of the end of the world, the apocalypse itself, and they had to finish it.
Sam was six months old when this life started for his family. Twenty-seven years later it was over for good. Sure they still had charms throughout the apartment, weapons in the Impala's trunk and throughout their rooms, but Dean himself had said a tiger couldn't change its stripes. Just because they weren't supposed to get involved didn't mean they couldn't protect themselves if it was necessary.
“Do you want another beer?” Dean asked, rising.
“Yeah, sure,” he replied. It was Thursday, but he didn't have class until noon tomorrow, so why not? He could hear Dean rummaging through the cabinets, presumably for a bag of Doritos or pretzels or something. “Do we still have any Chinese food from the other night?”
“Yeah - you want it?”
“As long as there's nothing growing on it,” Sam replied.
He could hear the microwave going as Rocky ran up the steps to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Sam remembered Dean had wanted to reenact that after they entombed Holmes's ghost with Jo, but it never happened. Sam got what he wanted going back to school; he thought Dean deserved something for himself, too. “Hey, Dean,” Sam called into the kitchen. “So what kind of dog?”