Epilogue

The storm clouds from earlier in the morning have given way to a breathtaking sunny day, and as usual I can only wonder what the night will bring.

It’s not in my nature to live in the here and now, I suppose. I'm always waiting for something just around the corner to come and fuck up whatever is going right at the moment.

And today, most things are right, so I am being especially cautious.

Still, even though I’ve been relegated to the backseat of my once pride and joy, and am currently the odd man out in a conversation about the specs of a book tentatively titled Ghost Busting for Dummies, I have to fight to keep the smile off of my face. After all, John Winchester doesn't go around with a goofy grin on his face.

But, for the first time in a long, long while, I am home. Although, there are some unexpected visitors in my house.

“I don’t really think you can create a whole chapter on bone burning, Morry,” Reese Mathers, is sitting next to me, his lean frame dwarfed by the muscular biker sitting against the other window. The ex-reporter is shaking his head, but stroking his mustache, which tells me, from past experience, that the educated man is actually considering the mechanic's idiotic idea.

“Oh, I can draw it out, old man. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

“And he should know,” My oldest son, Dean, says with a glance in the rearview mirror. “Morry’s skinned his fair share.”

I’m still wondering why in the hell Morry got an invite to this little party, but it’s obvious it was partly for Dean’s amusement.

“Damn straight, kid. There was this old gal I once knew who wanted to make a coat from Persian, and…”

“And let me guess, Cruella, ” Dean interrupts again, shooting his brother, who is silently riding shotgun a wicked smile, “you helped her steal about a hundred adorable kittens from some poor unsuspecting family. Then you wrote a book about it and sold the rights to Disney, where the names and species were changed to protect the innocent?”

Morry simply looks at me reproachfully, as if I have had any hand in the creation driving the car. I merely shake my head, and raise my hands in innocence, because although I know I donated biological material, I honestly have no fucking idea where Dean Winchester evolved from. “It’s a real wonder you’ve survived with all those nice teeth of yours intact, boy, considering the way you mouth off to your elders,” the mechanic finally mumbles.

“And here I thought you liked me, Morry.” Dean is still smirking, content with his abuse of the taxidermist.

“Less and less, these days.”

“Don’t sweat it, Morry. Most people who’ve made out with Dean start to feel that way,” Sam says quickly, and I nearly laugh at loud at the horrified look on his brother’s face. It’s not often anyone gets one up on the master, but if anyone can, it’s Sam.

“I can’t imagine why,” Morry leans against the front seat, in between my boys, finding the chance to get his own digs in. “I thought his lips were real soft-like, Kind of sweet, like a girl.”

“Shut up, Grand pa Adams!” Dean growls, and Morry falls back in the seat, holding his side from his laughter.

This time Reese shoots me a look, as if I could control anything that’s going on in the vehicle. Hell, I lost control years ago, and from what I’ve witnessed in the last twenty four hours, it will be a cold day in Texas before I get it back.

Suddenly, the car is filled with screeching guitars and reverberating drums, and my mind instantly conjures images of stringy haired, musicians that my teenage son use to idolize. Southern Rock is one thing I do not miss about riding with Dean.

One look up at the rearview mirror and I can see Dean pretending to concentrate on the road, but scheming on some way to regain his honor. I fear for Sam’s safety. And Morry’s. Although, I could actually enjoy seeing the big taxidermist taken down a notch or two.

If he tells me one more time what a miracle it is that Dean is alive-and apparently with all mental faculties in tact- I might have to kill him myself.

Because no one understands more clearly than I do how close it came. How easily Dean could have slipped away, and I could have lost my child. Sam could have lost his brother. That point was driven home last night, as I awoke in the early hours before dawn to find Sam, also sleepless, watching his brother, in the darkness of our hotel room.

It was almost like he was standing sentry-making sure Dean wouldn’t be taken away again. Maybe he was protecting him from me. I'm not sure anymore.

I wanted to say something, anything, to comfort him. To reassure him, but I couldn’t.

Losing family is a pain that can not be explained away.

It’s like a cancer, that slowly eats away at you. It can make you mad. Insane.

And with that thought in mind, my eyes involuntarily go to Reese. I could have so easily become him. There was a time or two when it came close, when someone threatened to take the boys from me, and have me locked away.

The old man is furiously scribbling notes in his journal now, and I wonder if it is for some new story his warped imagination is contriving or if it is more of a defense mechanism to burn all the anxiety that I am sure he is feeling.

I mean I was all to hell with the prospect of seeing Sam after nearly three years of separation. I can only imagine how it would feel to go fifty years without seeing my own child.

But Dean apparently promised him a piece of the best apple tortilla known to man, which in reality, meant a family reunion that Oprah would have been proud of.

In fact, I’m pretty proud of it, too.

Dean, despite all the things I have done to beat it out of him, still has a heart as big as his bravado.

He’s a sucker for family shit.

Always has been.

His mom was the same way. And for the life of me, I can’t find it in me to want him to change.

It would be easier for him. If he’d just let go.But he won’t. And although it annoys me, I love it about him.

Because as much as Sam and I continue on the quest to put the pieces of this fucking mystery together, to avenge our loved ones, Dean strives to reconstruct the shattered fragments of his precious family-to save the ones he loves. And despite that it’s a weakness, I have to honor it.

Helping a lost father find his way back to his daughter is just one more example of his belief in the sanctity of something so incredibly normal.

“So, this joint has good eats?” Morry asks, as we thankfully pull into the dirt parking lot of the Tortilla Flats Saloon.

“Ask Sam,” Dean instructs him as he kills the switch and opens the driver’s door. “He had one of everything on the menu last time we were here.”

Sam rolls his eyes and gets out, too, opening the back door for Morry. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just jealous because Rose liked me best.”

“My Rosie was always a kind heart,” Reese speaks up, taking his glasses off and cleaning them again for about the hundredth time. "I can't imagine that has changed very much."

“All women want to feed and coddle, Sam.” Dean looks at me, as if again that is somehow my fault. “I, on the other hand, elicit a wealth of different desires.”

“Yeah, like the need to run fast and far,” Sam mutters, and Dean cuffs him on the back of the head as he walks by.

“Don’t be bitter, Sammy. It‘s not my fault I got the handsome coded Y chromosome.”

“It’s Sam.”

Standing next to my youngest son, I smile. “It will always be Sammy.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, but once Dean is far enough ahead, he gives me a hard look. “For him, maybe.”

And with that he lets me know that our short-lived truce is apparently called off, and I can’t help the little stab of pain that darts through my heart.

It seems it will take more than a brief reunion full of pizza, beer, and a ballgame watched on a fuzzy motel TV to bring Sam back into the fold.

“Kids are a bitch, huh?” Morry offers as I slowly bring up the rear.

“You don’t know the half of it,” I reply as he holds the door open for me.

The place is just like I remember, with maybe a little more touristy type flamboyance than it had several years back, but the strong smell of chilies and grease is still prevalent. My stomach growls in anticipation, and I look around to catch sight of the boys.

They’re standing by a table near the back with Reese, and a woman, several years older than myself is gushing over all three of them.

Her silver curls are bouncing around her full face as she talks wildly with her hands. I instantly recognize Reese Mathers’ familiar blue eyes as they shine from her elated face. She grabs her father first and then Sam in a fierce bear hug.

Dean makes a mad break for it, before the woman can pull him into the emotional reunion and once again I have to duck my head to keep from smiling, as he scampers towards us, in his typical Cool Hand Luke fashion.

I take a seat on one of the empty stools at the counter. “So, I see that Rose is still excited?”

“Yeah, good call on the whole phoning first thing, Dad.” Dean glances back over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have wanted the old gal to have a coronary or anything.”

“You did good, kid,” Morry says what I should have and smiles proudly at my son, and not for the first time I have a sudden sense of dislike for the man. “But you should have told me.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Told you what?”

“That Reese’s girl was such a looker.” Morry replies with a low whistle. He slicks his palm with his own saliva and tries to tame some wild, whisps of hair that have escaped his long, braided silver mane. “I would have worn my leather chaps.” He glances at Dean and winks conspiratorially. “Women dig the leather.”

“I hear that,” Dean nods and I have to bite back on the groan I feel trying to escape.

Morry suddenly leans over and gets in Dean’s face.

“Dude-back off.”

“Is my breath okay?” Morry asks, sounding much more like a teenager than the sixty-year-old fool that he is.

Dean frowns and steps back. “If by okay you mean ode’ of road kill, then yeah.”

Morry doesn’t look offended as he straightens the straps to his over alls and waggles his bushy eyebrows. “Alrighty then, come on and introduce me to the pretty little thing.”

“This ain’t E-Harmony, man.”

“After all I’ve done for you, kid? Why you were half-way to the Golden Gate when I…”

“Introduce the man, Dean,” I interrupt quickly, not at all sure I can keep my hands from around the mechanic’s throat if he goes into the details of my kid’s demise one more time.

“Yes, sir,” he answers with a deep sigh, and then motions Morry to follow him.

“And make sure you mention how I saved your life. Women love a hero.”

Dean groans. “How about I just tell her about your many diverse careers? Nothing says hot like hands that have been in grease and formaldehyde all day.”

“Now don’t go bragging on me, kid.” Morry tosses an arm amiably around my son’s shoulder and they start for the newly reunited family. “I don’t want to intimidate her right off the bat.”

Sam has managed to escape from Rose and saunters my way, a hint of blush still on his young face as he passes his brother and avoids the elbow Dean aimed for his midsection. He takes a stool next to me, and motions for the waitress.

“Your brother did a good thing,” I nod to the table where Rose and her father are now sitting with Dean and Morry.

The server comes over and fills our coffee cups, and I cringe slightly as Sam dumps sugar and cream in his.

My son glances at me and shrugs, as he finishes killing off any flavor his drink might have had with another pack of sweetener. “He’s a sucker for the whole family thing.”

I study my youngest for a moment, finding it both comforting and troubling that I can see so much of myself in him, not only in superficial features, but imbedded deep inside. Where real damage can be done. “Listen, Sammy, I know we haven’t had a chance to talk about things…”

Sam raises an eyebrow, and glances around the busy restaurant. “And you think now is the time?”

This could be the only time we have. “You could cut me some slack you know, kiddo.” Even though I probably don’t deserve it.

“Why? Because you saved Dean?” Sam glances towards where his brother is sitting, and I don’t miss the look of recent grief that flashes through his dark eyes. “He wouldn’t have been hurt if it wasn’t for your hunting.”

“It’s not just my hunting, Sam.” I try to count to ten silently in my mind, as I wait for the inevitable smart-mouthed reply.

“Oh, right, it’s our legacy-whether we want it or not.”

There it is. I sigh. “Your brother wants to hunt.” How can three years have gone by, and we’re still stuck on the same old conversation.

“Because that’s all he’s ever known. It’s the only way he’s survived.” Sam lowers his voice and relaxes his tense stance, when Dean casually glances our way, as if he can feel the familiar tension from across the room. “He’d follow you to hell and back if he thought that’s what you wanted. He’s blind where you’re concerned.”

It’s my turn to shrug, and throw barbs. “That’s kind of like the pot calling the kettle black, son.”

He looks at me, slightly stunned that I was willing to go there, and I feel a little guilty. “ “I didn’t ask him to give his life for mine. I don’t use his feelings for my own purposes,” he whispers, angrily.

It’s true to some degree. I’m sure Sam doesn’t mean to be selfish, or to take his brother for granted. Maybe it’s genetic. “So-when this is all over, you’re going to stay with him? Keep hunting? Because it’s what he wants.”

“Just because I don’t want to hunt forever doesn’t mean I don’t love my brother.” Sam shakes his head. “You don’t understand.”

Oh, I understand all right.

I understand that he’s mad at me for more than what he perceives as the injustices I have pushed on his older brother. I put my coffee down and hold his gaze. “Understand what, Sammy? Brothers?” Truly, I do understand that more than I want to. “I know what it’s like, Sam. I’ve been where you are. Maybe it’s you who doesn’t understand.”

Again he looks towards Dean, as if making sure he’s still there. He did the same thing when he was a little boy-always making sure his brother was in sight-just in case. The fact that he was able to leave him, still floors me. “I get it, Dad.” His eyes find mine once more. “Trust me.”

“Trust works both ways, Sam.”

“So, I’m suppose to just believe that what you’re doing is best for him.”

“Just like you want me to believe that what you’re going to do won’t hurt him again.”

Anger sparks in the brown depths and Sam’s hand tightens around the coffee mug he’s holding in a grip that has me worrying for the structure’s integrity. “I didn’t leave him.”

“Does he see it that way?”

“God-you’re still a bastard,” he sighs, slamming the cup down on the counter, it’s contents sloshing over the sides. “I went to school for a better life.”

He doesn’t need to add the –better than the one you gave me- speech. I get that part loud and clear. “Exactly. And you’d still be there if the unthinkable hadn’t have happened.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that you need to consider your own motivations in this whole thing, before you start judging mine.” Sam looks at me like I’ve slapped him, but before I can dig myself in any deeper, a hand clasps my shoulder and I’m not surprised to find that Dean has made his way over to us. “You two catching up?”

His green eyes stand out starkly against his pale, bruised face, and I have to clear my throat and take another drink of coffee before I trust myself to speak. “You know us.”

Sam merely looks away but I change the subject before Dean can reply. “So, when’s the wedding?”

Dean looks confused for a moment, but soon a sly smile spreads across his face. “I’m betting on a nice spring nuptial, something tasteful-involving a train of Harleys, ladies with big hair and leahter bustiers and catering by the Jalapeño, no doubt.”

Sam obviously forces a smile for his brother’s benefit, “Maybe Morry will ask you to be his best man.”

“Yeah, if Reese doesn’t kill you first.”

“What? You wouldn’t want a daughter of yours bringing home a great catch like Morry?”

“I wouldn’t let a daughter of mine speak to Morry.”

“But you let him slobber all over me?”

“I’ve seen you with worse, Ace.”

Dean clutches his chest and winces, and even though it‘s for dramatic effect I can‘t stop the lump that springs to my throat as unwanted memories of his recent death fill my mind. The look on my youngest son's face tells me he's thinking the same thing.

“Ouch. It’s always the ones closest to you.”

I don’t miss the serious scowl that Sam sends my way at Dean’s joking words. If Dean notices he doesn’t say anything, but I decide to use my tactic from earlier and move us into safer territory. At least safer for me. “I have a line on something I want you boys to check out.”

“Another job?” Dean takes the stool next to me and picks up his brother’s discarded coffee.

Sam looks too pissed at the idea of another hunt to even complain about the grab.

“Yeah. In Alabama.”

Dean starts to say something but my youngest beats him to it. “Where are you going?”

Did I say I was going anywhere? I don’t understand Sam sometimes. “I have another job that I’m working on.”

“Dealing with the thing that killed Mom?”

“I’m not ready to discuss this particular job yet, Sam.”

“But you’re ready to send us off on another wild goose chase?”

“Sam…” Dean starts, but his brother turns on him.

“Dean-you just got out of the hospital.”

“Dude-I’m good.”

“This isn’t a debate, boys.” I wait until they are looking at me, instead of facing off with one another. “I‘m giving you both an order.”

I can tell from the look on Sam’s face that he wants to tell me exactly where to shove my order, but to my surprise he stays silent.

“What’s in Alabama, besides the Crimson Tide?” Dean asks.

“I’m not sure exactly. But an old friend asked me to look into some weird things going on in a small town not too far from Mobile. Sounds like it could be our kind of problem.”

“Are you going to tell us this friend’s name or do we have to figure out some secret prophecy first?”

Dean sighs, but I merely shrug at Sam‘s dig. “Sanders. Mac Sanders.”

“Military buddy?” Dean asks, glancing around his brother.

I shake my head, “No, but he helped me out of a scrape once.” Saved my life, actually. “You should like him, Sam. He’s a lawyer.”

“Why does a lawyer need our help?”

I take another drink of my coffee, recalling the conversation that I’d had with Mac. “Seems he has an unusual client.”

“Unusual how?” Dean asks.

“Unusual in that he’s been dead for about thirty years.”

“Huh,” Dean elbows his brother. “And you thought law school had nothing to do with the family business. This could open up a whole new area for you, Sammy. Sam Winchester-Supernatural Solicitor.”

“Bite me,” Sam grumbles, but I can see the interest flicker in his eyes. I have his curiosity up.

I have to admit the lawyer twist works for my advantage. I once tricked Sammy into a hunt by promising him a campus visit to Harvard-which of course Dean ended up taking him on.

“So-Dad, will you be meeting up with us? I hear they have a Jimmy Buffet museum there?”

Leave it to Dean to remember that Jimmy Buffet was raised in Mobile. “As much as I hate to miss that, son. I’m heading to California.”

“California?” Sam asks, and I nod. “What’s in California?”

“Answers, I hope.”

“Maybe we can meet up with you after the job in Mobile.”

I look at Dean, and try not to notice the hurt in his mother‘s eyes. “Maybe.”

“When will you be heading out?”

“Tonight.”

“You just got here,” Sam speaks up, and this time there is more hurt in his voice than anger. I can’t help but to get annoyed. “I shouldn’t have been here in the first place, Sammy. It’s dangerous.”

“Tell me about it,” my youngest snaps, and his eyes flick to Dean before boring down on me once more. “I sure hope you don’t have to tear yourself away to come to Alabama.”

In Sam speak, that means that I better hope nothing else happens to Dean. “I’m sorry that things can’t be the way you want them, son.”

“Right,” Sam holds my gaze, and I feel bad for him, for his brother, too. “Because they’ve always gone my way before.”

“I thought you said this wasn’t the right place or time to get into things.”

Dean frown at this, not having been part of that whole part of the conversation, but he quickly offers up a familiar buffer. “Why don’t we all just have a cheeseburger, some greasy fries, and brood silently-like real men?”

Sam and I both stare at him, both caving at the magic words. “I’m buying.”

I can’t help but to laugh and Sam rolls his eyes. “With what?”

“I have money,” Dean defends, even though I’m pretty certain that he isn’t sure of that statement.

“Order for me then, big spender,” I say, standing and starting for the back of the diner where the restrooms are. “And tell them to go heavy on the jalapeños.”

*

We watch him leave, and I don’t miss the look on Dean’s face. It’s the same one I’ve seen him give me on countless occasions-kind of like he’s not sure if it’s the last time he’ll see me or not. I have the urgent need to wipe it clean from his bruised features. “So, are we really going to Alabama?”

He looks at me and smiles. “Of course.”

When I frown he nudges me, “What have you got against Alabama anyway, Sammy?”

“Nothing.”

“Good, because, hell, if Skynyrd sang a song about it, the place can’t be that bad.”

I watch him kill the rest of my coffee-hating that even the obvious elation he's feeling at having Dad back-having us all together-still doesn't mask the fair amount of pain that he's trying to hide. “Are you feeling okay?”

He looks at me, slightly annoyed. “Sure, Random.”

“Really. I mean if you need to take some time after all this, Dad can just call his friend and tell him we’ll be there later on.”

“I’m fine, Sam. Besides, Dad wouldn’t be sending us if it wasn’t important.”

“New Hope was important.” And look how well that turned out.

“Damn straight. Look at how that turned out.”

I almost laugh at the completely opposite, yet identical ways we see things. “Geronimo and my girl, Lassie, were set free,” he ticks off proudly. “Reese and Rose get to be a family again, and Morry gets a book out of the whole deal. And no more innocent people die, at least not from that soul sucking Monroe.”

My brother-the hero. “Don’t forget the most important part.” The part where you died.

“Right,” he smiles. “Dad. Damn it‘s good to see him.”

I falter, realizing that he’s totally looked over what it all almost cost us. What it took from him. What it did to me-to watch him die in my place. But I can’t bring myself to ruin his take on things, because I can‘t bring myself to be that damn selfish, even to prove my point about our father. “Yeah, we finally found Dad. I’m glad he’s okay, too.” But I’m more glad that my brother’s okay. I can’t imagine what it would have been like leaving this place without him.

Going on without him. Even though I’ve done it before. But even when I was at Stanford, I knew that I wasn’t alone.

“So-you and him are good then?”

He looks so hopeful that I can’t bring myself to tell him that I’m not sure if Dad and I will ever be good again. But I force a smile, “Yeah. It was just like you said. I apologized. He apologized. And things are back to normal.”

“I guess I should expect to have to break you two up before we finish our meal then?”

“Dad’s leaving soon. I think I can control myself.”

“Good, that would be awkward.”

“As awkward as knowing you’ve actually swapped spit with Rose’s future husband?”

“Shut up, Geek Boy.”

“Wonder if Morry is interested in road tripping to Alabama. I have a feeling he’d fit in well in the South.”

“Don’t even think about it, Sam.”

I catch sight of Dad coming out of the restroom and the barely contained look of reproach he shoots Morry as the man offers him the seat next to him in the booth. Suddenly, I have a brilliant idea. “Better yet, I bet he’d like California.”

We look at one another, and I can’t help feeling, that if only for that moment, we’ve gone back in time. Before Stanford. Before I even realized that I wanted a different life.

“Dad really does need someone watching his back.”

I nod. “Never know when he might need a mechanic, or an EMT.”

“Taxidermy could come in handy for those furries, too.”

*

“Why are you boys looking at me like you use to when you were planning something that would inevitably land you both in deep shit?” I watch as Sam and Dean look innocently at one another.

“We were just saying how great it is to have you back with us, Father.”

I frown at Dean and his cocky grin. “Right, smart ass. I thought you were ordering us some chow?”

“Just waiting on you, Dad.” Sam says almost sweetly, and I find it hard to turn my back on him, because honestly, out of the two of them, he is the most dangerous.

“And planning for your going away present,” Dean adds, and I get a little more worried.

“The last time you boys got me a present I was almost arrested for partaking in the oldest profession.”

“That was Sam’s fault.”

“My fault? I was seven.”

“Boys,” I hold up a hand, “Can we just eat?”

“Sure.” They say in unison as I pick the booth closest to the door. I have a sinking feeling that I will not leave New Hope unscathed.

“By the way, Dad,” Dean slides into the other side of the booth and winks at his brother, who sits down beside of him. “How do you feel about leather chaps?”

THE END

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