Title: Sam and Emily

Author: nightrose_spn

Pairings: Sam/Dean, Sam/OMC

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 10485 (All three parts)

Summary: Sam knows he deserves the pain for himself, but it would kill him if his boyfriend ever raised a hand to their daughter. AU.

Notes/Warnings: This is the last chapter. Hope you enjoyed. I'd really appreciate a review if you did-- and thank you so much for all the support I've gotten for this fic already! Let me know if there's anything you'd like to see me write, I take requests!

Dean and I buy a house in Massachusetts, because I'm going to go to school there. He'd had some words with the head of the law department at Stanford, who had then agreed, very enthusiastically, to transfer my credits with the highest praise to Harvard. I can graduate in a year.
Emily's got a spot in a private school in a little white building covered in ivory. It looks like it stepped out of a fairytale. Dean stays at home most of the time, picks Emily up while I go to class. For the moment, we're living off Dad's credit card fraud, but soon enough I'll have a good job and I'll be able to provide for my little family.
Dad hunts, but only sometimes. He'll go away for a few weeks at a time, but between hunts he always comes to pay a visit to us, his sons and his granddaughter.
He's a much better grandpa than he ever was a father. I'm grateful for that.
Emily's room is pink and white. She loves it. She really seems genuinely happy all the time.
Me? I'm better. Functioning, at least. I don't flinch every time I see a beer bottle. I can accept that this is real, that it isn't going to disappear one day when I'm not paying attention. I trust Dad and Dean, and even myself on good days.
And I have one person to thank for that.
"Hey, Sammy!" Dean says, his whole face lighting up as I walk into our kitchen.
"Hi," I reply, smiling down at him, striding over. He tilts his face up and I kiss him gently, letting one hand settle around his waist. "You cooking?"
"Yeah. Enchiladas. Emily's upstairs coloring, if you want to go say hi to her. How was class?"
"Good. Got an A on the last paper."
He gives me a friendly older-brother slap on the shoulder and a contrasting kiss. "That's my Sammy."
I blush at his praise and bound upstairs. My little girl, five next week, is drawing a picture. She tackles me when she sees me, wrapping her little round legs around my waist. "Daddy!"
"Hey, sweetheart. What are you drawing?"
She shows me. It's her family. Stick-figures labeled Daddy and De-de, holding hands (or rather with their arms connected), a little Emily between them, and Grandpa off to the side. My father's scruffy beard is easily identifiable.
It makes me laugh. "Great picture," I tell her.
"Will you put it up on the 'afridgerator?"
"Sure."
I pick it up and head downstairs. While I place a magnet atop it, Dean comes up behind me, winding his arms around my waist. He whispers, "I love you," into my ear, and I turn around, wrapping my arms around him in turn.
"Dean? There's something I need to tell you."
There's apprehension in his eyes, but he says, "Anything. I'm always listening, Sammy."
"I…" I pull him closer. "I really appreciate you waiting all this time for us to be together. And I want you to know that… I'm ready now."
His eyes brighten. There's no doubt in my mind anymore that he wants this, hasn't been for ages. And I've dreamt of this for years. I can't let my insecurities hold me back anymore from this. "Really?"
"Really. Tonight, if you want? I want you."
He kisses me full of sudden passion, until I hear a little voice from the top of the stairs, "De-de, I'm ihungry!/i"
I laugh. "We'd better feed her."
Dean scowls, but nods. I laugh again and help him plate the food. Dinner goes by quickly, a bright babble of everything that happened during another day. A normal day. A happy day.
I tuck Emily in and kiss her on the forehead. She says to me, quietly, "Daddy?"
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"You're not sad so much anymore," she tells me.
"No, I'm not. Being with you and De-de and Grandpa makes me very happy."
"I'm glad we're with them now." Her voice is full of solemness, that beyond-her-years wisdom I still haven't gotten used to in four years.
"Me too, Emily. I love you."
"I love you too. More 'n anything."
I stay in there, watching until she falls asleep curled around the yellow bunny rabbit Dad brought her back from his last hunting trip. I rub her back as her breathing evens out, my hand as broad as she is from shoulder-blade to shoulder-blade, and smile.
Dean's watching from the door. Like a guardian angel, watching over us, like he always has been. In the end, it all happens so naturally. We go downstairs and watch some bad T.V., have ice cream straight out of the container, and laugh together like we've been doing all this time. It seems to make perfect sense that he loops an arm around my waist and leads me upstairs just a bit before we get tired.
When Dean whispers, "I love you, Sammy," into my ear, in the sweat-soaked silence of our bed, I find the perfect answer as I curl my hand around his.
"I know," I tell him. "I know."
I don't know why there was ever any doubt in my mind. I don't know why I let things get this bad. I don't know why I let Derek hurt me as much as I did. I don't know what wonderful things I did to deserve this much happiness, but I do know Dean loves me, almost as much as I know I love him too.
I listen to his breathing, steady and gentle, and we fall asleep twined together.
Nothing will ever tear us apart.