A/N: So I kind of lied when I said this story was complete... Either that, or I just caved to pressure. So, especially for Carocali who asked for it, here's a little added Tag scene just to explain what happened to the Nixons after the boys managed to get reality back on track. I didn't want to add it as an Epilogue, as I like the way the story finished at the end of Chapter 7, so just consider this one of those 'missing scene' tags that everyone seems to like writing!
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything, not even a working alert...
Tag to Paved With Good Intentions
"You don't have to do this, you know."
Sam gazed out through the Impala's grimy window, across the brightly sunlit street to where the familiar pale blue house nestled in its perfectly-tended garden, rose bushes blooming along the neat pathways, ivy encircling the big oak tree where a child's rope swing hung from one thick branch.
Lucy's swing.
"I know." Sam acknowledged his brother's comment wistfully, eyes lingering on the bedroom window where his last memory was of a night spent with Jessica; a night that had ended with a fire and Dean pulling him from a burning house. As so many other nights seemed to have ended in Sam's lifetime.
Except this house didn't bear a single scorch mark, a single blackened timber; not one roof tile out of place, not one window broken.
And Sam shuddered when he realised how much this house reminded him of that other house, only a few scant streets away, where the occupants hadn't been as lucky as the Nixon family. Saving them may not have been John Winchester's primary concern when he had dramatically returned from Hell to beg his sons to alter the Deal he had made with the yellow-eyed Demon in a misguided attempt to change the Winchester family's tragic history.
But it was no accident that the Nixon family had walked away unscathed and forever unaware how close they had come to complete oblivion.
Mary Winchester hadn't been so lucky.
Sam tore his gaze from the childhood home he remembered so vividly despite the fact that it now belonged to a childhood that had never happened, to look over at his brother, who was also staring at the pale blue house.
It had been only two months since their father's death, and Sam knew how much Dean was hurting; how many unwelcome memories from two different lifetimes this little trip to Lawrence, Kansas was dredging up for his brother.
"You don't have to do this either," he said quietly.
Dean returned his gaze, that well-worn mask of cocky bravado quickly disguising the pain that Sam had glimpsed so briefly in his brother's eyes. "Hey, they invited me to Sunday lunch once, right?" he said, overly cheerful. "Might as well take them up on their offer."
Sam snorted. Even though he knew it was an act Dean put on just for him, his big brother always had this uncanny ability to make him laugh at the most inappropriate of times. "It's a yard sale, Dean, not a barbecue."
Dean grinned at him. "I know that, Sammy," he said, winking. "But there's no harm in trying..."
Sam returned Dean's smile gratefully, glancing back at the Nixons' front garden, where three or four people were milling around various picnic tables piled high with junk of varying shapes and sizes.
Fran appeared from the door at the side of the house carrying what looked suspiciously like two pitchers of lemonade, and Dean almost shuddered at the suburban ordinariness of it. Even in that other life, he'd not exactly had an ordinary childhood, so all of this was still completely alien to him.
But to Sam... The memories were still raw, still close and vivid. Sam had had a family. A real family. He'd had a mom who helped out with the PTA and drove a minivan; a dad who went to work at nine and came home at five and spent the weekends playing catch or softball with his sons; he had a little brother who didn't know how to load a shotgun blindfolded or the difference between a poltergeist and an angry spirit; and a little sister whose main dilemma in life was deciding who was the hottest actor in the latest TV show she and her friends were addicted to, or which boy she wanted to hang out with at the mall.
"You think they'll remember me?"
Dean sighed. "No, Sam," he said, regret tingeing his voice. "From what Missouri said, she barely remembers anything, and she was right next door. And psychic. They're not going to remember you. And pretty soon, we're not going to remember them, either."
Sam looked at him sadly. "So Missouri's right about that? We'll forget it all in time?"
Dean shrugged. "Something about the Universe reasserting itself. We can't remember two lifetimes, Sam. No-one can. So if you wanna do this, we should do this now, before we forget all about it."
Sam nodded. "Okay then," he said, taking a breath. "I guess it's now or never."
His exit from the Impala was accompanied by the comforting creak of the old Chevy's door, and Dean followed close behind as they sauntered as casually as they were able up the sun-drenched sidewalk towards the waiting yard sale.
"You sure you don't want to do this alone?" Dean asked uncertainly, and Sam knew his brother was just trying to give him space, not trying to abandon him so that he had to do this without backup.
Sam glanced sideways at him. "Lucy liked you. You're always a good ice-breaker when it comes to chicks."
Dean frowned at him. "I'm so glad I have my uses," he groused, pushing open the garden gate and motioning Sam to enter.
Alan and Danny emerged from the garage just as Sam and Dean reached the first table of junk, Danny carrying a box piled high with old t-shirts, while Alan hefted what looked like a rusty old weather vane.
"Everything on this table's a dollar," a young voice said from behind a pile of books which looked in imminent danger of collapse, and Sam found himself looking down at his little sister – no longer his little sister – Lucy smiling up at him brightly as she considered risking one more book on the precarious pile.
"You moving house?" Dean asked, when Sam seemed unable to find his vocal cords.
"No," Lucy said. "My big brother's off to school in a few weeks, so Dad says we have to clear out some of his junk." The teenager squinted up at him, a frown suddenly marring her young face. "Are you a fireman?" she asked suddenly.
Dean blinked at her. "Uh. What?" he mumbled, glancing sideways at Sam, whose mouth had fallen open. "No." He managed to assert. Then, "Why d'you ask?"
Lucy shrugged. "You look familiar," she said. "And we had some firemen come give us a talk in school last week. They were all pretty dreamy. Thought maybe you were one of them."
Dean laughed awkwardly. "No," he said, and Sam thought he detected a note of regret in his voice. "Not a fireman."
Lucy nodded, before turning her attention to Sam. She just stared at him for a second, a perplexed expression on her face, before suddenly turning on her heel and running off up the path towards where here mother was tending the lemonade table.
Dean arched an eyebrow. "Well that was weird," he muttered.
"She recognised us," Sam stated flatly. "Dean, she recognised us."
Fran was suddenly walking down the path towards them, a concerned expression on her face as Lucy paced behind her, almost as if she was hiding.
Dean turned on the megawatt smile obligingly, nudging Sam in the ribs, who attempted to do likewise.
"Hello there," Fran greeted them awkwardly. "You boys here for the yard sale? Not seen you around here before."
"We're just passing through," Dean replied breezily. "Used to live around here. Saw your sign." He jerked his thumb at the brightly coloured poster Lucy had pinned to the oak tree. "Thought we'd check it out."
Fran smiled in obvious relief, glancing down the path at Lucy and shaking her head. "My daughter thought she knew you," she said apologetically, looking from one brother to the other. "I'm sorry if she was rude –" She stopped dead as Sam smiled at her, and her face became unreadable for a second. "Actually," she said, "you do seem kind of familiar..."
"She thought my brother here was with the Fire Department," Sam managed to supply, voice cracking a little as he fought the urge to call the woman in front of him 'Mom'.
"Oh," Fran said. "Lucy has a thing about fire." She gave an embarrassed little laugh. "And firemen!"
"So you've had a fire here before?" Dean asked suddenly, seeing a way in to get Sam some of the answers he felt he needed.
"Oh no," Fran said. "We've never had a fire here. There was one at Lucy's kindergarten when she was little. She's been a little scared of it ever since."
Sam's smile became suddenly genuine. "That's good," he said, voice flooding with relief. "That you've not had a fire here. I'm glad." He shifted from foot to foot awkwardly, deliberately not looking at Dean. "We had a fire in our house when we were kids – a few streets from here. It's not..." He trailed off, and Dean coughed.
"So your son's going to college, huh?" he said, as lightly as he was able, and Fran's face softened.
"Hard to let your babies go," she said. "But yes. Off to study Mechanical Engineering. Got a thing for engines. The total opposite of his big brother."
Sam froze. "Big – big brother?" he tried to steady his voice, but didn't quite manage it. "So... You have two sons?"
Fran laughed, suddenly waving her hand to someone over Sam's shoulder. "Speak of the devil," she muttered.
Sam turned slightly, to where a young man was just entering the garden, a pretty blonde girl in a flowery dress hanging on his arm. He was tall – although not as tall as Sam – maybe Dean's height. Athletic build, like someone who ran a lot. Dark brown hair in thick unruly curls and green eyes that demanded any onlooker's instant attention.
"That's my eldest, Michael," Fran's voice flooded with pride as the young couple walked towards her. "Going to be a big shot lawyer out in California."
Sam smiled weakly. "You have a lovely family," he managed.
Fran glanced at him. "I do," she agreed, then laughed again. "And believe me, I know how lucky I am to have them. We told Michael he was adopted when he was seventeen, and were absolutely terrified he'd run off to find his birth parents and we'd never see him again. But I guess family will always be family." She smiled wistfully, and then suddenly shook her head, eyes coming back from the middle distance to focus sharply on her visitors. "You know, I don't know where my head's at today. My little boy's leaving home, and suddenly I'm boring complete strangers with my family history!"
Sam wanted nothing more than to tell her how wrong she was, but just smiled politely.
"Will you boys excuse me?" Fran brushed a gentle hand against Sam's arm. "Feel free to look around," she added, before turning away and heading down the garden to greet her son and her daughter-in-law with a tinkle of laughter and a hug that almost buried them both.
Sam bit his lip as he watched the way she touched the young man's cheek, the way she pushed his hair out of his eyes and laughed when he tried to swat her hand away playfully.
"You're our son and always will be."
"Sam?" Dean's hand was on his shoulder, gently comforting him. Reminding him that he wasn't alone. "You okay?"
Sam paused for a second, eyes swimming despite his best efforts. "Not really," he managed.
"You'll forget them soon."
Dean was trying to make him feel better, but somehow that just made Sam feel worse.
"What if I don't want to forget them?" he muttered, gazing after Danny as he ran up to Michael and clapped him on the shoulder. Michael turned and hugged his kid brother roughly, before sweeping Lucy up into his arms.
"You've grown a foot, squirt," the young man laughed, and Lucy frowned at him.
"It's only been a month since you last saw me!" she protested.
"Hey son," Alan grinned big, and Michael shook his hand. "Looking good. Gonna need to get that hair cut if you hope to set foot in a courtroom though!"
"Let's go."
Dean was tugging at his arm.
"Sam."
Sam managed to tear his gaze away from the picture postcard family in front of him – so near and yet so very far away from him.
They didn't remember him.
And pretty soon he wouldn't remember them.
"Sam."
And then he finally registered Dean's presence, standing there looking up at him, hands on his upper arms, concern filling his wide eyes.
"I'm sorry."
Sam blinked. "Sorry?" he echoed, brow scrunching in non-comprehension. What did Dean have to apologise for? "Sorry for what?"
Dean shrugged. "I'm sorry you couldn't have this. Couldn't keep it." He looked away for a second, down at his boots. "Sorry all you get is me instead. Kind of a poor substitute. I wish – I wish I could make it different. Give you what you wanted. Give you 'normal'..."
Which was when Sam realised he'd been looking at this all wrong. "I don't want 'normal'," he said suddenly, voice so full of conviction that Dean instantly looked back up at him. "Sure, it was nice to experience it. Nice to see what it would have been like if – if things had been different. Nice to see if it fit." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The apple pie life was okay for a while," he added. "But it's not for people like us. We're meant for greater things than 'normal', right?"
Dean looked at his brother for a second, trying to figure out whether the younger boy actually meant what he was saying. "I wish they could remember you," he said softly.
Sam's smile was bittersweet. "Better for them if they don't," he said. "We saved them, Dean. We saved Lucy from that yellow-eyed freak; saved her family from whatever else that sonofabitch had planned for them. We did good by them. We saved 'normal' for them. That's what we do, right? Save 'normal' for everyone else while we get to play with saltguns and tasers and drive around in your bitchin' car looking cool, huh?"
The corner of Dean's mouth twitched. "Damn straight," he said. "If you're gonna be a freak, you may as well do it in a cool car."
Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder, gently steering him back out towards the street and the waiting Chevy, leaving his other family chatting happily on their perfectly-tended lawn in front of their beautiful house.
"Family will always be family, Dean."
Hope that didn't hurt anyone's teeth too much!! If anyone finds this, I still love reviews. And no, this really wasn't just a desperate attempt to inflate the numbers...!