BB epilogue
The next few weeks were a blur. Dean got home at the end of every day exhausted, muscles aching, dirty, and feeling satisfied, like he’d accomplished something. The fire-damaged buildings were being repaired more quickly with his help, and he’d gotten along well with the other men he’d been working with. The teacher, Alice, was happy to have my help with the kids, and getting a chance to teach kids about history and math and literature was a wonderful experience. I’d only been called on once by the nurse, to perform a closed reduction on a wrist fracture for a six year old who’d fallen off her bike. They had a limited supply of medication, and that was a blessing, because I could give her a half-dose of hydrocodone and let it work its way through her system before I set the bone. My usual pain-killing method of handing the injured person (Dean or our Dad or another hunter) a bottle of booze wouldn’t have gone over too well, and as far as either of us had seen, no one here in Page drank alcohol.
At some point within our first week there, we’d unpacked our bags and put our clothing away in the dresser drawers. We were making ourselves at home in this tiny house.
After two weeks, I fished the plastic Army man from the Impala out of the pocket of one of my jackets and stood him up on the nightstand next to the bed. Dean recognized it for what it was, and I knew he wasn’t exactly sure what to say.
“Sam. Oh, fuck, Sam is that…it is, isn’t it?” His eyes filled with tears, and I did the only thing I could do - put my arms around him and let my own tears fall.
“Nothing wrong with us keeping something we had from before, right?”
He just nodded against my shoulder and let me hold onto him.
Eventually, though, the whole ‘child-bearing’ topic had come up again. Nate came to us with an idea, and we were willing to hear him out, even though we knew if he suggested that either of us would be intimate with someone else, the answer would be no.
“I think I’ve worked out a way you might be able to help us with this without breaking the commitment you have to each other”, he said, sounding way less uncomfortable about it than he and others had been when we first arrived. People just accepted the relationship Dean and I had, some more quickly than others, but there hadn’t been even one negative remark made to either of us, no homophobic slurs, no accusations about sinning or incest or anything like that. We’d both expected to have to deal with at least some backlash, but if anyone had an objection to us being together, they kept it to themselves, or at least never said it to our faces. “I talked to the nurse, and if you’re willing to, uh…donate…well, you know, if you’re agreeable to contribute your, um, your part, we’re fairly certain that the old tried and true turkey baster method might be effective.” He was blushing and not looking at either of us as he spoke. This was clearly not an easy conversation for him, but the ends justified the means, so he was suffering through it. “You wouldn’t have to know which kids were yours, if you didn’t want to. Does that sound like something you’d be willing to do?”
Dean and I had a silent conversation, words unnecessary, before he answered for both of us. “More than happy, Nate. And I’m fairly certain that we would know, at least eventually, which ones were ours. Helping to raise kids that we made isn’t something we’re opposed to. Neither of us ever thought we’d have any kids, honestly, but as long as it’s understood that the two of us aren’t open to romantic or sexual relationships with other people, I have no doubt that Sam would agree we’d want to have a hand in taking responsibility for any children we helped to create, regardless of the circumstances.”
“He’s right, I do agree. We’ll do our part, and if it turns out that our sperm makes a baby, both of us will do everything we can to help any child who’s born as a result. Like we talked about before, we need more people, and if there are women who are willing to go through gestation and childbirth, we’re more than willing to give our support to them and to children who are biologically mine or Dean’s. You just tell us when, and we’re there.”
Nate sighed in relief. “I hope you both know what it means to our community that you’d agree to this. Hell, you do enough to take care of the other kids here, that much is obvious. I’m not surprised that you’d want to be involved with one of your own. Of course, we all see the two of you as part of the community now. You do know that, right?”
“Yeah”, Dean responded. “We feel that way too. Taking us in and letting us be a part of what’s happening here, we can’t ever thank you enough for that.”
“Hey, don’t act like the folks here just hustled you in like orphans. Both of you have done so much to help in our efforts to start a new life here. Dean, you just repaired a roof yesterday that kept an elderly woman from having to abandon the house she grew up in. And Sam, last week you taught more than a dozen kids what the solar system looks like. You were right the first time we talked, you’re not dead weight. We’re all helping each other here, that’s what matters.”
And Nate was right about that. What really mattered was that Dean and I, for the first time in our lives, were part of a real live community, not a network of hunters, not a here-and-gone connection of angels and demons (who, by the way, had still not shown up, not anywhere around here anyway), but a real community, something we could benefit from and contribute to at the same time. It was shocking how easily we’d made the transition from a lifetime of wandering to putting down roots in a place where we made a difference, no matter how small, on a day to day basis. Neither of us could have hoped for anything better than this, especially after living through what was supposed to be the end of the whole damn world, even after living through what we’d experienced before that.
A year later, there were seventy people in Page. One of them was Dean’s daughter, a tiny newborn baby her mother had named Hope. She wasn’t a Winchester by name, but she was by blood. We’d been wrong when we’d assumed the Winchester line would end with us. This little girl was a continuation of our family, and she’d have a cousin soon. No way to know if my child would be a boy or a girl, but it didn’t matter.
There was a happy vibe winding its way through our new home, the whole town thrumming with joy about the upcoming marriage of a young couple, both barely into their twenties but so obviously in love. As every member of the community gathered to celebrate the wedding, Dean and I sat together on a bench in the backyard of one of the larger houses in town while people danced and laughed and celebrated. Max and Amy ran around with the other children, swiping pieces of cake and playing hide-and-seek.
Patricia sat down next to us in the early evening hours, and we talked about how much had happened in the past year. The growth of new crops, the few more folks who’d come across the town and decided to stay, the avoidance of West Nile with insect repellant and mosquito netting, the children who’d learned to read and write, the homes and public buildings that had been repaired and renewed. There had even been a few people who’d passed through and given us news of other towns, other groups of people doing the same thing we were doing. Not much progress yet on methods of communication, but people were working on it. And the lights were still on. People still conserved, only used as much electricity as was absolutely necessary, and food was still carefully rationed (but not today, this was not a day for holding back).
We’d become especially close with her since we’d arrived. She told us that she’d never been married or had any children of her own. Eventually, she knew just about all there was to know about Dean and me, more than anyone else knew. I’d told her about Lucifer, the fight at Stull, the hallucinations I’d suffered later. Dean, surprisingly enough, one night in the middle of a poker game at her kitchen table, told her about Castiel, how he’d been Dean’s closest friend and then betrayed him, coming back just long enough to beg for Dean’s forgiveness before he was gone again.
Tonight, though, there was no talk of heartbreak or loss, just optimism and a feeling of good things waiting for all of us. We were all finally feeling like we really did have a chance to start over again. After sitting in silence for a while, she brought up an idea of her own.
“You know, if you wanted, you could have this too.”
Dean laughed. “A wedding? Come on, Patricia, I know people have been tolerant, but there’s got to be a line somewhere. Brian might be able to perform ceremonies, but we’d never ask someone to do that for us. We’re grateful enough for what we have.”
I gave him a look, you know, a look, and added my own two cents. “If he wasn’t opposed to it, though, Brian (Page’s only surviving city official) could do that for us, I guess. Making all our own new rules now and all.”
Dean just fixed me with a serious gaze, and Patricia graciously excused herself. “You’d want that?” he asked me, with a stunned look in his eyes. “To get married? To me?”
At that point I knew I was blushing, and I couldn’t meet his eyes as I responded. “Um…yeah. Yeah, actually, I would. Maybe Brian won’t do it, maybe he would, I don’t know, and it’s not like it would really change anything, but”, I took a deep breath and continued, “I’d like to be married to you. To wear a ring and make it official. I know it shouldn’t make a difference, but sure, it would be nice. I’ve thought about it once or twice, especially since we found out there was going to be a wedding.” God, I sounded like a gigantic girl, and just waited for Dean to say as much, but he didn’t.
“So, you’re saying you’d marry me?”
“Uh-huh.” I finally gathered the strength to look right at him. “Yeah, I would. Definitely.”
“Do I have to ask you? Like, you know, propose or something?”
“You just did”, I responded, kissing him gently on the cheek, “after I’d already said yes.” Then I elbowed him in the ribs to take the edge off the sappiness that was oozing out all over the place.
I promise to sing to you
When all the music dies
And marry me
Today and everyday
“Let’s go talk to him, then.”
A month later, it was our turn. Dean’s infant daughter and her mother, Kaitlyn, were standing next to Elizabeth, who was ready to deliver a child conceived with my seed any day. As our magistrate spoke decidedly secular words about the bonds of marriage, the commitment, forsaking all others, I felt my tears welling up and slid a plain solid band onto Dean’s finger just after he’d done the same to me.
After all we’d been through, it turned out that it wasn’t the end of the world, after all. It was the beginning. For all of us.
~fin~
Ending A/N: In case anyone’s curious, the song lyrics I sprinkled throughout this fic are as follows, in order of appearance:
End Of The World As We Know It - REM
Do I Disappoint You? - Rufus Wainwright
Cigarettes - The Wreckers
Ridin’ The Storm Out - REO Speedwagon
Long May You Run - Neil Young (and oh how I cried while I wrote that part of the story)
Come On Get Higher - Matt Nathanson
O Death - Ralph Stanley
Anything For Love - Meatloaf
Don’t Fear The Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult
Tears In Heaven - Eric Clapton
Sleep - Poets of the Fall
They Don’t Know - Tracey Ullman
Think It Over - Powderfinger
Marry Me - Train