Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Last one,” Dean says, heaving the box into the bed of Eileen’s rusty green pickup truck. It lands with a dull thud, nestled closely against other boxes and miscellaneous pieces of furniture. Dean wipes his sweaty palms against his jeans and closes the tailgate, taking a second to school his expression before turning to face Sam and Eileen. They stand hand-in-hand, with matching nervous-excited grins on their faces. It’s sickeningly sweet. 

“I guess this is it then,” Sam says. His eyes are teary as he takes a sweeping look around gravelly clearing, his gaze lingering on the Bunker’s door. He blinks several times in quick succession, and Eileen squeezes his hand. Dean rolls his eyes, resolutely ignoring how he’s getting a little choked up himself. 

Dean clears his throat. “Guess so.” The air is suddenly heavy and solemn, quiet in remembrance, in the turning of the page, in the dawn of a new era. Before he gets the chance to do something stupid like tackle Sam in a bear hug or break down crying, Dean cheerfully claps his hands together and pastes a cheery grin onto his face. “Well, no reason to stand around here with our thumbs in our asses. Let’s get this show on the road!” 

Miracle comes bounding out of the woods, barking merrily at the sound of Dean’s raised voice. Sam grins, easier now, and Eileen smiles brightly. “Let’s,” she says, flipping the keys in her hands as she makes her way over to the drivers’ side of the truck. 

Sam nods to him as he opens the passenger side door. “You okay following us?” 

Dean lets Miracle into the backseat of the Impala and smiles. “We’ll be right behind you the whole way.” 

And with that, they’re on the road again. 

***

It’s a three hour drive from Lawrence to Sam and Eileen’s new house, which is located just outside of Omaha, Nebraska. It’s a cute little place on twelve acres - two stories, window boxes filled with purple flowers that make Dean sneeze, nice front porch. It kind of reminds Dean of the cabin where Jack was born, if that place were a little newer and a little nicer. 

Jack. Dean sighs. He wishes the kid had decided on a little more of a hands on approach, if only for their sakes. He and Sam don’t talk about it much, but they miss him dearly. Dean misses him dearly. Walking around the bunker feels like walking through a ghost town these days. 

Like a Rolling Stone plays over the speakers, and Dean spares a glance out the window. It’s mostly farmland, here - cornfields and windmills and a large blue sky stretching out as far as the eye can see. The Impala rolls smoothly over the cracked, concrete road. Dean focuses his eyes back to the bed of Eileen’s truck, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. It’s funny, he thinks, the idea of Sammy living a domestic life in the midwest, of all places. Good, though. He’s happy that they’re taking a step back from the life to focus on actually living. They definitely deserve it, of all people. 

Sam’s new place will be almost exactly halfway between the Bunker and Sioux Falls, where Jody and the girls live. They’re supposed to be coming to help Sam and Eileen move in, so long as Claire doesn’t find some hunt to go on in the meantime. It’s good to see everything going back to normal, everyone returning to life, as it were. A sort of regression to the mean. For Dean, it isn’t that simple. After everything that’s happened, with Chuck and Jack and Cas, he’s not sure how anything will ever be normal again. He feels suspended midair as everyone else goes crashing back down to the earth, stuck hovering above them in the atmosphere. 

When you ain't got nothing, you got nothing to lose

You're invisible now, you've got no secrets to conceal

How does it feel, ah how does it feel?

To be on your own, with no direction home

Like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone

Bob Dylan sings, and Dean drives. 

***

They pull into the driveway around dinnertime. The door creaks as Dean gets out of the Impala. He lets Miracle out, and she goes running around Sam’s new yard, yapping happily, ears flopping around with her movements. Dean smiles. 

“Okay,” Sam says. He’s fighting a smile, Dean can tell. The excitement of the new house is getting to him, settling in and growing roots. He moves to grab a box out of the back of the truck, but Eileen slaps his hand away. 

“No, dinner first,” she says, signing along with her words. 

“Yes,” Dean groans thankfully. He signs emphatically along with his words, staring Eileen down with exaggerated gratitude: “Thank you.” She laughs as Sam rolls his eyes. 

They set up a picnic supper in the yard: sandwiches, chips, beef jerky, and some Reese’s candies that Dean had picked up at the Gas N Sip in Kansas before they left. Sam tosses both Eileen and Dean an apple, which they both ignore, much to Sam’s disdain. 

“So, this is it, huh?” Dean says, looking around. Even empty as he knows it is at the moment, the house looks homey and inviting. Like a place where Sam and Eileen can be safe from the horrors that they’ve dealt with for the last few years. Hell, for their whole lives up to this point. “What’s next? Dog? Two-point-five kids?” 

Sam blushes, long hair falling in his face. Eileen smiles. “We were thinking chickens,” she says. Dean raises his eyebrows. 

“Chickens? Seriously?” 

“Fresh eggs!” Sam squawks, indignant. “And they’re great for insect control in the yard!” 

“You’re taking care of them,” Eileen signs. “And they better not bite at my feet.” 

Dean snorts. “Alright, Farmer Sam. What else?” 

Sam shrugs. “Garden, maybe? Fresh vegetables would be nice-” 

Dean groans. 

“-they’d be nice, and gardening is a great hobby, come on, Dean.” 

“Sure, Sammy.” 

“I wouldn’t mind a garden,” Eileen says. 

Dean shakes his head, smiling. “I’m happy for you guys.” 

“What’s next for you, then?” Sam asks. 

Dean finds that he doesn’t really have an answer. “I don’t know,” he says. “Live in the Bunker with Miracle. Help out with hunts as needed. Maybe run the FBI phones and stuff, like Bobby used to, you know? I don’t think the apple pie life is for me.” 

Sam nods. He’s frowning a little, but he doesn’t voice his disapproval, which Dean appreciates. “As long as you’re happy,” he says. 

“I am,” Dean says. It should be true; they won, didn’t they? Chuck is gone. Heaven’s in working order, as far as they know, as is Hell. He isn’t though, not really. It’s like he’s in limbo, waiting for the other shoe to drop, whether it be good or bad. 

“We can do some of that too,” Eileen says. “Research for hunts, phone calls.” 

“Yeah,” Sam says. “We were thinking of writing some more reference materials on this stuff. We’ve definitely got the experience, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Dean says. 

“So much of the info we have, even the Men of Letters’ stuff - it’s all about how to kill things, how to trap them, you know? Which is great, but there’s not much out there about people like Garth who manage to live peacefully as monsters. How they manage to do that. It adds to the stigma.” 

“Sure,” Dean says. “No, I think that’s a great idea, Sammy.” 

“We have other ideas too,” Eileen says, “But those can wait.” 

“Of course,” Dean says. “We’ve got all the time in the world, now.” 

Sometimes, it feels like less of a blessing and more of a curse. 

***

They carry everything from the truck into the house, which is now littered with boxes and haphazardly placed pieces of furniture. Eileen directs Sam and Dean throughout the house, telling them where to put this and that. They manage to get the bed in the master bedroom set up, and Eileen goes about putting the bedding on it as Sam and Dean head downstairs to unpack more boxes.

“You gonna be okay?” Sam asks. They’re in the kitchen, putting blue-rimmed bowls and plates away in the oak cabinets. 

Dean studies the edge of a plate as if inspecting it for chips or cracks. “Yeah,” he says with finality, “Yeah, I’ll be alright.” 

Sam sighs. “I just- after everything, Jack, and Mom, and- and Cas, I don’t like the idea of you being alone in the Bunker. You deserve better than that.” 

Good old Sammy. Dean shakes his head. “I’ll be fine, Sam. I could use a bit of boring, to be honest. And I won’t be alone.” He gestures to Miracle, who’s made a bed out of a rug on the floor. Her paws twitch as she sleeps. 

Sam rolls his eyes. “The dog doesn’t count, Dean. Just promise me you won’t become a recluse, okay?” 

Dean laughs. “Okay, Sam.” 

Dishes clink as they’re placed into their new homes. They move on from plates to cups to wine glasses - (“Wine, seriously, Sam?” “Eileen likes it!” “No, Eileen likes beer. This is all your hipster self, man.” “Shut up, Dean.”) - and finally, bowls and silverware. They’re collapsing the empty cardboard boxes when Eileen comes down the stairs. 

“This is enough for tonight,” she says. “I’m beat.” 

As if on cue, Sam yawns. “Alright. Time for bed. The couch is free, Dean, just set the boxes on the floor.” 

“Sure thing,” Dean says. Sam and Eileen retreat upstairs. 

The house is suddenly very quiet. The wind whistles softly against brittle window panes, which are cool to the touch now in the chill of the night. Dean snags a blanket from a box and settles onto the couch. He stares at Sam’s ceiling, Sam’s goddamn popcorn ceiling, and tries to count sheep. It’s a futile exercise. 

He’s officially an empty nester, he thinks, slightly hysteric. Sam’s moving out, Jack’s moved out, Cas is gone. He’s alone. 

Miracle’s wet nose brushes against the hand hanging off the edge of the couch. Dean pets her ears and closes his eyes.

He does not dream.  

Chapter Text

The morning makes itself known with slamming doors, jubilant voices, and way too many stomping feet for… Dean checks his phone. Nine o’clock in the morning, Jesus Christ. Jody wasn’t kidding when she said they’d be there bright and early. 

“Mornin’, Sunshine!” Donna chirps, kneeling down so that she’s eye-level with his face. Dean blinks at her too-happy grin blearily. 

“Hi,” he croaks. 

She beams. “The girls have coffee and donuts in the kitchen, and Jody’s gettin’ some dollies out of the car to help move the heavy stuff around. Oh! And Claire wanted to talk with you about something - some sort of possible case, I think. Jody didn’t want her going to check it out alone, even if it is a false alarm.” 

“Right,” Dean says, heaving himself into a seated position on the couch. He can smell the coffee in the kitchen, and it makes his mouth water. Out the window, he can see Patience throwing a tennis ball for Miracle. 

“So,” Donna says, hands on her hips. “Nice place Sam and Eileen got, huh?”

“Donna,” Dean says. He licks his lips, trying to alleviate some of the dryness in his mouth. “I love you guys, and I’d love to chat, but I am not awake enough for this. I need coffee.” 

Donna nods. “Oh, that’s fine. I know how it is. Long hours at the station, you know? Plus with all of this hunting stuff with Jody and the girls-” 

“Donna,” Dean says. The blanket falls from his shoulders. “Coffee.” He doesn’t mean to be rude, but he can feel the ire of cursed awakeness stirring in his chest, and he feels like growling. Like a bear, Cas had once said. 

She purses her lips, a knowing glint in her eye. “You go and get that cup of joe, Dean. Then I’ll tell you all about it.” 

Dean sighs, standing. “Thank you.” 

***

It’s good to see the girls again. Claire reminds him a little too much of himself; doggedly rigid in her opinions and loyal to a fault, though she’d never admit to it. He wishes he’d had the freedom she has now to simply be himself at that age. The sight of her heavy makeup and dark eyeliner warms his heart. 

Kaia sits perched on the counter, eyes crinkled with a bright smile that lights up her whole face. It’s nice to see her happy - to see them both happy, together like this. 

“Hey, Dean,” Claire says, pretending to be uninterested in seeing him. The grin tugging at the corner of her lips betrays her. 

“Hey, kid,” Dean says. He looks at Kaia. “She behaving herself?” 

Kaia laughs, the sound light, almost fragile. Claire squawks in indignation. 

“For the most part,” Kaia says. A lock of hair falls in front of her eyes, and Claire takes her hand. 

“I’ve been doing just fine, thank you very much,” Claire says. “We took out a vamp nest just two weeks ago - they were nasty. Almost got impaled on this stupid rusty nail in some barn. Got off with just a scratch.” She pulls up her sleeve, and Dean sees a nasty cut on her bicep. He winces. 

“Hope you got your tetanus shots,” he says. 

“They’re all up to date, believe me, I wouldn’t take any chances.” Jody walks into the room dragging a dolly behind her, slightly breathless but happy nonetheless. 

Dean smiles besides himself. “Hey, Jody.” 

“Come here, give me a hug,” Jody says, holding out her arms. 

Jody’s hugs are great. Very mom-like; tight, all consuming, and warm. 

She releases him and heaves a sigh. “I can’t believe it. Big step for Sam, huh?” 

“Oh yeah,” Dean says, looking around the room, eyes skimming cardboard boxes and haphazardly placed miscellaneous objects. “It’ll be good for him, though. He deserves the stability.” 

“Amen,” Jody says. “We’re ready to get started whenever. Just need to know where to put everything.” 

Dean snorts. “Talk to Sam, he’s the finicky one. You should have seen him hemming and hawing over what color couch to get. I thought Eileen was gonna knock him out just to get him to stop pacing.” 

It’s another ten minutes or so before Sam and Eileen make their way downstairs, shadowed by Donna, who is carrying a box. Patience comes in from outside breathless, Miracle on her heels. She gives Dean a smile, which he returns. 

“Okay,” Sam says with that sheepish grin he gets when everyone’s attention is on him. “So, uh, most of the boxes are labeled. Bookshelves need to be set up in the other room, then books can go in there. Someone can do that. Uh, the coffee table needs to be put together for in the living room, and once stuff is cleared out of there, the rug can go down.” He looks at Eileen. “Am I forgetting anything?” 

“Probably,” she says with a smile. “But that’s okay.” 

Sam blushes. It’s sweet. “Okay, so we can get right to it, I guess. Thank you guys so much for coming. It means a lot.”  

“Oh, no problem,” Donna says. “We can start on the books, yeah?” 

“Sure,” Patience says, grabbing a box. 

“Sounds good. Claire, why don’t you help Dean set up the coffee table?” She gives Claire a pointed look. Claire rolls her eyes. 

“Sure,” she says, squeezing Kaia’s hand. She punches Dean in the shoulder as she walks past him. Ow. “Come on, old man.” 

***

They clear a space on the floor and get all of the parts for the table out. It’s a nice floor; old, polished wood that gleams in the sunlight that filters in through the window. Claire sits criss-cross applesauce with the instructions open on her lap. She fiddles with a Phillips head screwdriver. 

“We don’t need those. How hard can this be?” Dean says, grabbing at one of the table legs. 

“Bad idea,” Claire says. “Read the manual.” She tosses it as his head. He shakes his head and looks at the first step. 

“Fine,” he says. “Give me one of those screws.” 

They work quietly, handing things back and forth until the approximation of the table on the box comes into being. It’s nice; meditative, almost. There’s camaraderie in the air with how he and Claire work together. She gives him a screwdriver. He gives her the hex tool. It works. 

Then she has to go and ruin it. “Sorry about Cas,” she says. “I know you guys were close.” 

Dean’s hands still. “Yeah,” he says. 

“He texted me sometimes,” she continues, oblivious to Dean’s very palpable lack of desire for this conversation. “It was sweet. He tried his best, y’know?” 

“That’s Cas for you,” Dean says. His voice is hoarse, so he clears his throat. 

Claire stares at her lap. 

Dean hates this; how he can’t even think about it without his chest constricting, without pinpricks of sorrow prodding at his glistening eyes. He takes a breath. 

“So, uh, Donna mentioned a hunt.” 

Claire picks at her jeans. “Yeah, Jody thinks it’s probably nothing, like usual. And it’s kinda far away, so she doesn’t think we should go for it. Kaia’s taking her side.” 

“Hm,” Dean says. “And what do you think?” 

Claire meets his eyes. “I think there’s something going on.” 

Dean nods. “Show me.” 

***

Dean raises his eyebrows at the research Claire has put together. She’s getting good; there are copies of news reports, articles, and social media posts documenting strange animal deaths and disturbing occurrences in the proximity of Norwich, Vermont. Gardens suddenly failing as if they’ve been salted, an unnaturally high uptick in teenage pregnancies, oddly inclimate weather for the time of year. 

“Huh,” Dean says, leafing through the papers. “Looks like it might be a demon.” 

They’re standing out by Jody and Donna’s car. The sun warms Dean’s skin through his clothes despite the cool breeze. 

Claire heaves a sigh. “ Thank you. Jody thinks it’s all coincidence.” 

“It could be,” Dean cautions. “But Sam and me have taken cases on less.” 

“So you’ll come with me to check it out?” Claire asks hopefully. 

Dean hesitates. Demons aren’t like werewolves and vampires; they’re insidious beings hell bent on enacting spiritual war crimes. They’re nasty. Tangling with them can leave a mark on the mind, especially for a young hunter like Claire. 

She must notice his apprehension. “Oh come on. I found the case, I should at least get to come with. Besides, it’s good experience, right?”

“It’s never a good experience,” Dean says. “That’s why I’m worried.” He sighs. “What does Jody think?” 

“She doesn’t want me to go alone.” Claire scowls. “And she says Kaia doesn’t count because we’re both inexperienced.” 

“She has a point.” Dean puts her packet of research back together. “Alright, I’ll drive out there with you after we’re done here at Sam’s. But you have to promise to let me take the lead on this, okay?” 

“Deal,” Claire says. 

“Great,” Dean says. “Let’s get back to work.” 

***

Many hands make light work, and there is a wildly visible difference by dinnertime. Boxes are no longer stacked over every surface of Sam and Eileen’s house; instead, the furniture is in place, the floors are mostly clear, and the empty cardboard boxes have been broken down and stacked near the door for being burned. The house is beginning to look like a home. 

Claire, Patience, and Kaia go outside to find some firewood and start a bonfire, leaving Dean inside with Sam, Eileen, Jody, and Donna. 

“Look at this place,” Donna says with a smile. “It’s looking great!” 

“Thank you,” Eileen signs. “You can congratulate Sam on his interior design skills.” 

Dean snickers, and Sam kicks his ankle. 

“So,” Jody says. “Hot dogs for dinner? I can tell the girls to make some roasting sticks.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Dean says. 

They make their way outside. Dean still isn’t completely over how huge Sam’s yard is. Miracle lopes around in the big open space, tongue lolling out as she pants happily. The sky is clear and there is a slight breeze that prompts Dean to pull his shirt tighter around himself. 

The girls have set up a tent in the yard where they’ll be sleeping, as Donna, Jody, and Dean will be taking up the sleeping spaces in the house. Sam had offered sleeping bags and bedding for the floor, but they thought camping it out would be fun. Dean’s half expecting the mosquitoes to scare them inside come midnight. 

They roast hotdogs over the fire and eat them with potato chips and vegetables, courtesy of Jody. Sam goes through an entire handful of baby carrots within about thirty seconds, and Eileen laughs at him. 

It’s a nice night. Laughter rings through the air, billowing up with the smoke from the fire towards the heavens. Donna tells stories about her misadventures at work, and Jody tells them about how proud she is of Alex for her grades this semester. It feels like family. 

Dean feels a little like he’s watching from the sidelines. It’s not like they aren’t including him in the conversation; it just feels like he’s not where they all seem to be in life: moving on, paving their paths toward their futures. He smiles along with Donna’s stories, and laughs at Sam’s lame jokes. This is the way things are now, he tells himself. And it’s good. It’s really good. It’s just an adjustment. That’s all. 

The girls eventually retire to their tent, and Jody and Donna go inside. Sam goes to collect a bucket of water to put out the fire. 

“Guess this kind of makes you my sister-in-law, huh,” he says to Eileen. 

She laughs. “Not yet,” she says, “But something like that.” 

He smiles. “I’m glad.” 

Her eyes sparkle, and her hands dance. “Me too.” 

Sam walks over with the water and dumps it out over the smoldering coals. “There we go,” he says. “Now Dean won’t trip and burn himself on his way inside.” 

“Fuck you, I had one beer,” Dean snorts. 

Sam stares at him. “Who said anything about you being drunk?” 

Eileen laughs, the traitor. Dean frowns. “I thought you were on my side.” 

“Sorry,” she chortles. 

“Alright, Mr. Funny, I’m headed in,” Dean says. 

Sam’s grin shows on his entire face; his cheeks, his lips, the corners of his eyes. It suits him. “Good night, Dean.” 

Dean absolutely does not stumble over a fallen branch on his way to the house. 

***

He falls asleep quickly, and he dreams. 

It’s nonsensical; sensations, impressions, and a kaleidoscope of colors that seem to weave in with sound. He can see the waves of noise sewing themselves in and out of the bright streams of colorful light. It’s beautiful, if alien. It engulfs him, and he floats, feeling adrift as if he’s lying on a raft on a lake, cool water with sunlight gleaming on its surface lapping at his feet. 

He’s staring upwards, he thinks, at a sky. It isn’t blue, but it isn’t any other identifiable color, either. Vague shapes come and go. He squints, and in the distance, almost in space, something flies overhead. A hawk, maybe, or some other bird of prey, soaring amongst the stars. It’s beautiful in a way he can’t articulate. He smiles. 

His eyes close, and he drifts, eventually sinking down back into the realm of dreamless sleep. When he wakes, he will be well rested for the first time in far, far too long. 

Until then, he drifts.