FIC: Pulling Out The Nails, Epilogue [20/20]
Back to 18. Stay, or go to the Masterpost.
Dean had been wrong about Sam's return timetable. It was a week before they managed to get in touch; Sam called his burner phone from a hospital in Texas, his voice garbled with exhaustion and relief when Dean picked up. "I saw it," he stammered out, "on TV, the night Jess-Jess-"
"Just tell me it's a girl," Dean said, grinning, and Sam half-laughed, half-cried a yes.
"We're on our way home," he promised. "I saw Bobby on TV, are you-are you still in Washington-"
"No," Dean said, clearing his throat. "No, I left them to clean up the mess. I'm back at camp. Got Cas and Garth with me. City life didn't suit them."
"We'll be there tomorrow," Sam promised. If he found anything strange about Dean relinquishing the capitol to his surviving allies, he didn't mention it. "God, Dean, I can't believe you're alive."
"Yeah," Dean said, chuckling. "Yeah, me neither."
It seemed wrong, to tell Sam over the phone-all the details were a mess; it would take hours to explain. Dean would rather do it in person, now that his arm wasn't a total eyesore.
"Oh my god-Dean."
He straightened up from his cabin's porch-he'd only just finished the last repair, returning the place to its former mediocrity-and turned to face his brother, who didn't look nearly as shocked by the new streaks of silver in Dean's hair as he should have been. His knee-jerk exclamation gave away more than his facial expression, which was curiously pinched.
"Bobby told you," Dean accused, striding forward.
Sam offered up a sheepish smile, relaxing a little. "Yelled it at me, more like." When Dean was in arm's reach, he reached out and grabbed his brother into a fierce hug, letting out a deep breath of relief. "Man," he said as he pulled back. "I didn't really believe it until right now. I was sure-"
"Yeah," Dean said, squeezing Sam's shoulder, "I know." He didn't know how to begin explaining to Sam what had happened to him-the things he'd seen in the last week, the places he'd been, and Cas, interwoven in all of it-so he didn't try. He had all the time in the world, anyway. They would get to it someday.
"Where's Castiel?" Sam asked.
"The garden, probably," Dean said. "He's still trying to weed out the damage from the attack." He turned to smile at Jess. "Hey."
She smiled back, radiant. "Hi, Dean."
"Who's this?" he asked, dropping his gaze to the sleeping infant in her arms, swaddled in a thick blanket.
"Mary Deanna Winchester," she said, half a coo; the baby turned her head a little toward Jess's voice. "Want to hold her?"
Dean held out his arms, sinuses burning, and let Jess transfer the little girl into his hold. She squirmed a little, opening sleepy eyes. They were Sam's color, a soft hazel that gazed up at him with interest.
"Mornin', sunshine," he murmured, and she smiled.
*
Only some of the group that had fled on Dean's orders returned, and of them, not all came back to their half-destroyed home in the mountains. Bela, of course, was long gone; she'd split the second they'd heard the news that the American government was in disarray, headed south. Chuck, too, had taken off, but toward the north instead, Canada in his sights. Only Pam, Ash, and Missouri accompanied Sam and Jess back to Seneca State Forest. Ellen went straight to Washington to find her daughter; Lee and Krissy planned to integrate back into city life, complete with hot water; Jim and Olivia both headed back to the Midwest, where they'd originally hailed from before spirits and magicians had consumed their lives.
They'd lost Rufus and Annie to that cave-in, and that, Dean suspected, was why Bobby elected to stay in the capitol and rebuild: to keep his mind off the loss of some of his oldest friends. The quiet of camp would have reminded him too much of his grief, and Bobby had never been good at that. The old man was still adjusting to Dean's new abilities, too. He would come around in time, Dean thought, but until then, the space was good. There had been too much sniping between them over the last three years; they could stand to clear the air.
Jo and Charlie had stayed, too, along with Jody, to sort out the lower-level magicians and help the transition to a commoner government. Unsurprisingly, cowed by what their superiors had done, the magicians were playing nicely with Dean's Resistance representatives. Congress-dissolved ten years ago by Azazel and his fear tactics, and never reconvened-was slowly being recalled. Jo reported in every few days, and they all promised to visit when things settled down.
Progress was slow; the people were terrified; but Dean trusted his stalwart family. It would take years-decades, maybe-to recover from what the magicians had done to the common people, but it was a start.
"I like it here," Castiel announced, startling Dean from his thoughts. "It's a good base, especially when it's not being dogged by the atmosphere of impending doom."
Dean chuckled, scrubbing fried chicken from the pan he'd used for dinner. Castiel rolled up his sleeves and nudged in beside Dean, plunging hands into the soapy water to attack another dish. Their elbows brushed; Castiel pressed his shoulder to Dean's. Dean leaned into the contact, enjoying the easy quiet.
Their last visit to the Other Place had been much longer than the first. Dean had needed the extra time there; he had what amounted to essence now, damaged heartily in their last confrontation with Azazel and Lilith. After twenty-four hours, he'd blinked awake to pre-dawn light, Castiel settled against him-and his arm, though a little stiff, was as good as new again.
Castiel, of course, was still too busted for Dean's liking. He'd gotten in the habit of flitting away to the Other Place while Dean slept, but it would take a while still, that way, for him to recover fully from his long tenure on Earth.
"Maybe we could take a vacation," Dean commented, rinsing his hands. "Whole week or two in the Other Place. I wouldn't mind. We fucking deserve it."
Castiel smiled, waving his hands dry. "We could," he allowed, not bothering to dig at Dean's motivations. "Do you think you could stay away from your niece for that long?"
"Time passes differently in the Other Place," Dean hedged, hands falling to Castiel's hips. He tugged the djinni nearer, trapping him against the sink.
"Not in your favor," Castiel reminded, his smile wry. "It always feels longer to be there than here, remember?"
"Shut up," Dean grumbled, and dropped the subject-for now. "You're coming tomorrow, right?"
"If you want me to," Castiel replied, amused by the sudden shift in conversation.
"Maybe you shouldn't," Dean teased, a sly grin spreading on his face. "Last time I took you on a supply run, the world almost ended. You were supposed to be my bodyguard, buddy."
"I guarded," Castiel said defensively. "You would have been dead if it wasn't for me."
Dean raised his eyebrows and pointed to his forehead; the gash, though healed, had left a scar. Castiel cupped the back of his head, fingers threading lightly through hair, and pressed a kiss to the mark on his skin.
"It was a battle," Castiel murmured. The tender note in his voice made Dean's heart surge on a little faster; his pulse was always too rapid these days, but Castiel pushed it to its limits. "I told you to stay out of the way."
Dean, fingers curved around Castiel's hips, pulled him a little closer, and Castiel came willingly despite the reprimanding scowl on his face. When Dean kissed the corner of his mouth, the frown relaxed.
"Dean," Castiel said quietly, as though asking a question, blue eyes deep and fierce and hungry.
Castiel's mouth was warm beneath his, half-parted, waiting. Dean, leaning in to silence him, offered the only answers he had.