Title: That Which Was Lost... [24/24]
Author: alakewood
Warnings: AU. Light Wincest. Spoilers for The Magnificent Seven.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1200+
Summary: Sam and Dean spend their last day at Bobby's before heading out to get Sam better acquainted with the job. Then they're off to meet up with Bobby in Chicago for their first of (hopefully) a lifetime of hunts together.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.
oxoxo
The faint, warm light of sunrise was bleeding through the thin curtains in their room when Dean woke the following morning, Sam sprawled across his chest, both of them tangled in disheveled bedsheets. It took careful maneuvering to get himself out from under Sam's weight, skin peeling apart from the stick of sweat and sex. Sam stirred regardless, hands clutching at Dean as he grumbled sleepily. "Where you goin'?"
"Gonna take a shower," Dean said, "start a load of laundry, and maybe make breakfast. We should probably head out sometime today."
Sam nodded into the mattress, eyes still closed, fingers wrapped loosely around Dean's wrist, hair mussed and tangled. "Wake me up when there's food."
Dean watched Sam for a moment longer, feeling a weight lifted from his back, easing the tension in his shoulders. In the dim light of morning, the curl of Sam's fingers against his skin and over his steady pulse, he knew everything would be okay. "Sure thing, Sammy." He pulled his hand away from Sam's and pushed his brother's hair out of his face before climbing out of bed and picking up his discarded clothes from the night before, stepping into his boxer-briefs and pulling them up as Sam started to snore quietly. He picked up the rest of their clothes and grabbed his duffel of laundry from his own room, then headed downstairs. Laundry, breakfast, then a shower, he figured as he pulled on a pair of semi-clean sweats, half tempted to try convincing Sam to join him. The risk of not leaving the house seemed almost worth it.
Sam's bags were still out in the yard, abandoned in the heat of the moment, damp with dew when Dean retrieved them as the sky to the east brightened to a hazy pink-orange that chased away the gray-blue of the fading night. He wasn't sure what in Sam's bag of clothes was clean or dirty so he just combined everything into one basket, tossing their jeans and Sam's hoodies in one load and saving their shirts, socks, and underwear for another.
It was a ridiculously domestic feeling, whisking together a half-dozen eggs into a large bowl with a tarnished silver fork as a full load of laundry spun loudly in the slightly off-kilter washing machine in the next room. Fatty strips of bacon sizzled in the pan on the back burner as Dean poured the eggs into the larger skillet on the front burner. "Sammy!" he hollered, pushing the thickening eggs around with a spatula. "Breakfast!"
The floorboards above the kitchen creaked after a minute or so with Sam's shuffling steps as he gathered the clothes Dean had left for him at the foot of the bed before heading downstairs. Sam stumbled in still half-asleep and sat heavily in one of the chairs at the table by the window.
Dean laughed to himself, shaking his head as Sam folded his arms on top of the table and nearly fell back asleep right there. "Hey! I thought you wanted food?"
"Mm," Sam grunted, eyes closed.
"You're hopeless," Dean said fondly, reaching for the plates on the counter and dishing up Sam's breakfast. "You want toast?"
Sam sat up as his plate was set in front of him. "Sure." He took his fork from Dean and grabbed a hold of his hand before he could get too far away.
"What?" Dean asked, turning around.
With a tug of his hand, Sam pulled Dean closer before reaching up to palm palm his neck, fingernails scratching lightly through the short hairs at Dean's nape to bring him down for a kiss. "Good morning."
Dean couldn't help smiling into the kiss, still feeling utterly domestic. As nice as it was, he couldn't wait to get back out on the road with Sam. "Good morning, you big girl."
Sam was grinning stupidly as Dean pulled away. "Love you, too, man." His smile faded and a flush rose to his cheeks as he realized what he'd said. "That's not- Dean, I-"
"Yeah, I know what you meant," Dean said, laughing. "You big girl."
Shaking his head, Sam started tucking into his breakfast. "Shut up and make me some toast, jerk."
oxo
Epilogue
Sam and Dean kept in touch with Bobby when they took to the road, Dean finding easier hunts to get Sam ready for dealing with the demons that Dean had set loose when he'd opened the gate. It turned out they didn't have much time to get prepared – only a few weeks after they'd been on the road, Bobby called with reports of demonic omens near Chicago.
Sam spent most of his time riding shotgun studying the journal John had left behind and learning Latin, memorizing the Rituale Romanum, and drawing devil's traps based on the Key of Solomon. They'd drive all day, Sam with his nose buried in one book or another or the journal while Dean sang along to his mullet rock blaring loud enough to be heard over the wind rushing in the open windows, and they'd spend their nights in no-star pay-by-the-hour-or-week motels, wrapped around each other after greasy diner meals and bad horror movies or various police procedural reruns.
They'd fallen into an easy routine in the short time it took for them to be called into the fight by Bobby. Whatever was going down in Chicago seemed to be big, more than just a demon or two, and that made the job that much more dangerous.
Dean quizzed Sam ceaselessly during the drive from Kansas City until Sam, in a fit of frustration forced Dean to pull over along the side of highway 36 just outside of Atwood, Illinois. Shutting Dean up was easy enough, tongue in his mouth and a hand down his pants. Dean accused him of fighting dirty but quit his excessive questioning.
However, Dean was back to wary and nervous when they met up with Bobby three hours later in Oak Park outside an old farmhouse. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" Dean asked, cutting off Sammy Hagar mid-wail when he turned back the key in the ignition.
"Ready as I'll ever be," Sam answered, opening his door and heading around to the trunk.
"I'm serious, Sam," Dean said, eying Bobby as the man climbed out of his own car closer to the house with a nod at the both of them.
"So am I."
Dean huffed a sigh and opened the trunk, passing Sam gun and a flash of holy water. "You've gotta be careful, okay, Sammy? We've gotta be careful."
"And we will be," Sam said, shoving the flask into a pocket and checking the magazine in his Taurus. "I've got your back and you've got mine; I trust you."
"I know." Dean shoved his Colt into his waistband and handed Sam another magazine. "I trust you, too. I just-"
Sam pressed a hand to Dean's chest, palm over his heart. "I know." His fingers curled just the slightest bit before his hand fell away. "Now, come on. We've got work to do."
Dean gave Sam the smallest smile with a shake of his head. "Yeah, we do." Then he slammed the trunk lid closed and followed Sam across the tall grass of the neglected yard to where Bobby stood near the uneven porch.
They had plenty of work to do – it wasn't a lie – with hundreds of demons or more to hunt down, not to mention their usualjobs. But Dean was looking forward to it, Sam at his side.
Their life together was just starting and Dean couldn't wait.
oxoxo
Author's Final Note: Wow, guys! That is it. It's only been, what? Nearly four years? Thanks for sticking with me through this.
And while I love this fic to death and I'm so glad it's finally finished, I think there's still some work that can be done to it. A good half of the fic has already be beta'd, but there are a few overall cohesive things to be worked out as far as the way the story flowed. So, if you're interested on checking in on the fully polished fic (whenever that may be), feel free to keep an eye on my LJ.
But I can't stress enough how thankful I am to you guys that have read and reviewed since this thing started way back in '08 - thanks for putting up with me and the not always punctual posting of chapters, and for sticking with me until the end.
THANK YOU! - alakewood