A/N: Last chapter. I hope that you've enjoyed reading thus far.

Warnings for homosexual slurs; I don't agree with any of the language, but sadly in my headcanon, Sam's stepfather is one of the people who does.

The last time John came over to Sam's house, he came over at a bad time. John had woken in the middle of the night with yet another nightmare about the Mogs. He was never ready for what he dreamt about: Henri dying. The dream was always jarring; the detail was always incredibly vivid. The blonde had woken with a start in a cold sweat, unable to stay in the empty house any longer. He sprinted down the pitch-black staircase and out the front door, not even pausing and taking the time to lock the door. He turned to the woods that grew in the space behind and between John and Sam's houses and ran through the trees in a beeline to Sam's backyard. He carefully scaled the wall to Sam's bedroom window. He tossed himself onto Sam's bed, burying his face in the pillows and inhaling the scent lingering on them deeply.

It took him longer than it should have to realize something was wrong.

John heard muffled shouting from downstairs; something deep and slurred. Something broke with a loud noise and a deep thud was heard, the dull noise of skin hitting skin. Loud, steady footsteps thumped up a set of stairs.

John sat up straight and froze with fear. That was Sam's stepdad coming upstairs.

With a loud shout and a bang, Sam's door was thrown open, letting all the sounds of arguing into the room. Sam stumbled into the room, his stepdad standing menacingly over him, his hands curled into fists. John scrambled to his feet, reaching over to Sam before he could stop himself. The whole room seemed as if it had all the air sucked out of the room as both Sam and his stepdad looked at the blonde. Sam shook his head imperceptibly, but it was too late. John was pissed.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" John growled, just as Sam's stepdad turned back to Sam.

"Is this him? Is this your fag boyfriend?" Sam looked sheepishly down at his feet. John's hands clenched into fists.

"Shut the fuck up," John demanded.

"What are you gonna do queer? Punch me?" Sam's stepdad grinned cockily, sticking out his face toward John.

The blonde pulled his fist back and, with all his strength, hit the man squarely in the jaw. Sam's stepdad crumbled like deadweight to the ground, temporarily knocked out.

The room was silent for a minute.

"John!" Sam exclaimed. John looked up at him, concerned. "What the hell?!"

John was legitimately confused. "What?"

"You just punched my stepdad!"

"In case you hadn't noticed, Sam, he punched you too. A couple times, from the look of it."

"I had it under control."

"Yeah, it looks like it Sam! Your face is all beat to hell again!" This wasn't entirely true: Sam's face didn't look as bruised as it usually did after Sam's stepdad had finished beating it. The only visible spot so far was a red mark that blossomed over Sam's cheekbone.

"What the hell are you doing here anyway."

"I had a fucking nightmare and I wanted to see my boyfriend. Is that such a fucking crime?!"

Sam got really quiet. John immediately realized he'd been yelling.

"I'm sorry," John whispered.

"No, I'm sorry," Sam replied. "That was dumb. I'm glad you're here."

John pulled Sam into a tight hug and any remaining anger melted away. "We should get out of here. I don't want your stepdad to wake up and take out more of his anger on you."

"He's pretty drunk," Sam said, nudging the now snoring man with his bare toes. "He probably won't remember this when he wakes up. Come on," Sam slung his stepdad's arm over his shoulders, "help me get him into his room." John lifted the rest of Sam's stepdad's weight up and realized why Sam was so strong despite his wiry frame. He had to carry his passed-out stepfather to his bedroom every night.

Together they dragged Sam's stepdad into his room and threw him onto the bed alongside Sam's reading mother who said nothing, just closed her eyes at the sight of the red mark on Sam's cheekbone.

"I'm going out, Ma," Sam said quietly, kissing his mother on the cheek.

"Sam," his mother paused as if she was going to say something, but she changed her mind, "Be back before he wakes up."

"Couse, Ma," Sam whispered, and John was struck with how similar Sam and his mother were. He realized that for a long time, it had just been the two of them.

Sam and John walked somberly out of the room and out the front door, not bothering to slip on shoes.

"Where do you want to go?" John asked Sam. They twined their fingers together.

"I know of a place," Sam said, coming to life once he was out of his house. John smiled and squeezed Sam's hand.

"Lead the way."

Sam took a sudden right into the trees, jerking John along behind him. They wove a winding path through the foliage until finally the tree trunks began to thin into a small clearing. John could tell that in the spring and summer the clearing was beautiful. Frostbitten bushes lined the clearing, and underneath the leaves that collected on the ground, he could see frozen flower petals. He scuffed up some leaves with his bare feet.

"Do you like it?" Sam asked quietly, picking up a purple petal and holding it delicately.

"How did you find this place?" John asked him, still admiring the frozen beauty.

"I used to come here all the time before I met you," Sam confided. "It's the only other place I go when… you know."

"I really like it," John smiled, and pilled Sam closer to him and down into the blanket of leaves that covered the ground. They kissed softly.

"You know you can stay with me. You don't have to stay with your stepdad," John said suddenly. Sam flinched.

"Actually, I do," Sam whispered. "I couldn't just leave. He'd find me at your place and he'd hurt you, you know that."

"But he hurts you anyway," John said. Sam just looked at him until John sighed in defeat. "I know. But I can dream."

The two lay together for a long time, doing nothing but holding hands and catching the leaves still falling off the trees. After a long nap twined together, the sun started to rise over the horizon.

"I should get you home," John whispered into Sam's ear, waking the brunette gently.

"Mmmm…" Sam groaned, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, "Take me to your house."

John's breath caught in his throat. "Do you mean it?"

"I mean it. Take me home."