So, about three months ago, I set out to write a series of fluffy and/or smutty one shots set at various points during season 5. I ended up with an eighty thousand word novel about homophobia and the healing power of love, and I honestly have no idea how that happened. But I do know that I would have given up about fifteen chapters ago if not for my boyfriend AJ. Not only did he beta read this story start to finish and defend you from my terrible spelling, he also provided endless supplies of coffee and general self esteem boosting at no extra charge. If you enjoyed this story, you have him to thank for it.

Warnings: See previous chapter.

This chapter takes place four months after the end of season 5. Well, my end of season 5. I have nothing against Lisa and Ben, but there is no place for them in this story.

Many thanks to HollieElisabeth and dean-winchester-is-our-king for taking the time to share their thoughts a.k.a. yell at me for leaving the last chapter on a cliffhanger. I hope the actual ending is more satisfying.

Epilogue

Dean almost slammed the trunk of the Impala when he finished loading their gear, but he caught himself in time and closed it gently. Just because he was in a bad mood, that was no reason to disrespect his Baby.

He wasn't even sure why he was in a bad mood. The hunt had gone relatively smoothly. They weren't leaving town with the law on their tail, and neither he nor Cas had come anywhere close to dying. The worst injury they had between them was a spectacular bruise on Dean's leg where the ghost had clipped him with a flying table. All in all, a damn good day by hunter standards.

Maybe we need better standards.

The thought sounded enough like Sam that it made Dean's chest hurt, but not as badly as it would have hurt four months ago. Or two months ago, or even last week. Slowly but surely, he was doing the impossible. Healing. Learning to live without his brother. And whenever he caught himself feeling guilty about that, he replayed Sam's words in his head. Be happy … I want that for you.

He sat down on the steps of the little, one bedroom cottage they had rented. It was one of a row of identical places, each one painted a subtly different shade of blue or green meant to evoke the ocean. The real thing was just a couple blocks away. He could hear the thunder of the surf even over the traffic on Main Street and the squealing kids running around the parking lot. Suddenly he really wanted to take a walk on the beach with Cas. Just the thought of it improved his mood, and they weren't exactly on a schedule. They hadn't even decided where they were going next.

Cas came out of the cottage and locked the door behind him. "I'll return the key to the rental office, and then we can go," he said.

"There's no rush," Dean said. "Sit down for a minute."

Cas gave him a puzzled frown, and Dean knew why. Five minutes ago he'd been so eager to hit the road that he'd snapped at Cas for not packing fast enough.

"I'm sorry about before," he said. "I was in a bad mood, and I let it spill over onto you. I shouldn't have done that." He touched his husband's leg. "Please sit with me?"

Cas's expression softened, and he lowered himself gracefully onto the step above Dean's. Dean scooted back so he was wedged between Cas's knees, and Cas rested his chin on Dean's shoulder.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the children playing in the parking lot. Dean tried to figure out the rules of the game. It was like a cross between dodge ball and monkey-in-the-middle. There was a lot of shrieking involved, but no one actually seemed upset. The kids' father (presumably) was sitting on the porch of the cottage next door, reading. Every few minutes he would glance up, do a quick head count and make sure no one was bleeding to death, then go back to his book.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Cas said, idly playing with Dean's wedding ring.

Dean opened his mouth to suggest a vacation, a couple days of relaxation before they moved on to the next job, but what came out was, "I can't do this anymore."

Cas tensed. "This? You mean …"

"No, not us," Dean hurriedly reassured him. "We're fine."

Cas sighed with relief and buried his face in Dean's neck for a moment.

"Jesus," Dean muttered, stroking Cas's hair. "And you call me insecure."

Cas laughed a little weakly. "Well, I've changed a lot since you fell in love with me."

"Not that much. Wings or no wings, you'll always be my angel, and believe me, if anybody ends this marriage, it ain't gonna be me."

"Well, it won't be me either," Cas said. He kissed Dean's neck, just a brief, dry press of his lips since they were in public. "And now that we've sorted that out, what is it you can't do anymore?"

"The job. I hate my job. I used to like it. I mean, there were shitty days when I seriously thought about quitting, but everyone has days like that. Most of the time, I liked it. Actually, I loved it."

"But you don't anymore."

"No. Not since …" Dean swallowed and forced out the words. "Not since Sam died. Maybe even before that. I get this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach every time we catch a new case. I'm so scared of losing you, and I'm scared of dying and leaving you alone. It's … It's like the opposite of a death wish. Maybe you need to have a little bit of a death wish to be a good hunter, and I don't have it anymore. Whatever made me good at this, it's gone, and all I want is … a home."

It wasn't quite an epiphany. He'd been thinking it for weeks. He just hadn't dared to say it out loud. He'd learned at the age of four that homes were fragile, impermanent things. Loving a pile of wood and bricks that could go up in smoke at any moment was just asking for trouble. But then, loving anyone or anything was as good as wearing a cosmic Kick Me sign on your back, and that hadn't stopped him from marrying Cas. It hadn't stopped him from pouring his heart and soul into raising his baby brother. It didn't stop him from loving a machine that couldn't possibly love him back. If you were so scared of heartbreak that you wouldn't let yourself feel anything, then what were you living for?

"Okay," Cas said.

Dean twisted around to look at him. "Okay? What does that mean?"

Cas tilted his head in confusion. "It means … okay. I agree with you. Let's stop hunting. Let's make a home together."

Dean felt a smile spread over his face. "Simple as that, huh?"

"No, I imagine it will be quite complicated. For one thing, we have no money and no legal identity. That will make buying a house very difficult, but we are both very resourceful, and I'm sure Bobby would help us if we ask—"

Dean kissed him. It was a little more chaste than either of them wanted, but public decency trumped passion, especially when there were children nearby. Speaking of which, Dean felt something bounce off his knee and broke away from the kiss to see a red rubber ball rolling to a stop by his foot. He picked it up as a boy of about seven came over to retrieve it.

"Thank you," the boy said dutifully when Dean tossed the ball into his hands.

"You're welcome," Dean said with a smile. The kid looked a lot like Sam at that age with soft brown curls tumbling into his eyes. But he had the round face and bright eyes of a happy, well fed child which, despite Dean's best efforts, Sam had never been.

The boy looked from Dean to Cas and back, and said with no trace of shyness, "Are you boyfriends?"

"Aiden," said the father, looking up from his book. "That's a personal question." His tone was one of gentle rebuke, not anger.

"It's okay," Dean said. "No, we're not boyfriends."

"Then why were you kissing?"

"Aiden," his father said a little more sharply.

But this time Cas answered. "Because we're married." He held out his hand to show the boy his wedding ring. "See? He's my husband."

Aiden peered at the ring, looked at the matching one on Dean's hand, then nodded, accepting this as valid proof of marriage. "My friend Brandon has two dads," he said conversationally. "Some kids at school pick on him because of it. I punched Tommy Dinkley for saying that Brandon's dads were—" He glanced sideways at his own father and concluded, "A word I'm not supposed to say."

"Well, I can't say I advocate punching people," Dean said diplomatically, "but you should definitely always stand up for your friends. And you shouldn't repeat bad words. It would be nice if no one ever had to hear words like that again."

Aiden nodded sagely. "I want to marry a boy when I grow up. Girls have cooties."

"No, they don't," Dean said, trying very hard not to laugh.

"They do too," Aiden retorted automatically. "If they don't, then why did you marry him instead of a girl?" He pointed at Cas.

Seeing that Dean and Cas weren't bothered by Aiden's attention, the father gave up trying to control his curious offspring and just watched the exchange with mild amusement.

"Because I wanted to marry him," Dean said. "And he wanted to marry me. Because we love each other. Boy or girl doesn't matter much as long as you love the person and want to spend the rest of your life with them."

Aiden considered this carefully, then said, "I still think it would be more fun to marry a boy."

"Now that," Dean said, leaning back against Cas's chest, "I completely agree with. Boys are way more fun."

The subtext of course went right over Aiden's head. Satisfied that he had won the argument, he returned to his game.

"What do you think, babe?" Dean said. "Do you want one of those?"

Cas chuckled and kissed the top of Dean's head. "Let's get a house first, honey. Then we'll talk."

Dean smiled and nestled deeper into his husband's arms. This was as close to Heaven as he ever wanted to be.

the end ... for now

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