(A/N- Well, first things first, I should thank you all for sticking with me and giving your support. I have more Supernatural fics bubbling around in my brain, so this will certainly not be the last – and as I've said before, I'm very willing to take "commissions", as it were. I love you all, God/Allah/Buddha/Gaia bless you, and enjoy the final chapter of "Mississippi Moon" – the only multichapter fic that I have ever completed.)
Sam and Dean spent another week in Oakvale, at Sabine's insistence ("Sam Winchester, you will stay in that bed until I tell you otherwise!"). Sam spent the days letting his shoulder heal, Maddy never far from his side; Dean had started teaching the art of pool hustling to his newfound protégée, but only after she swore to never, ever use the knowledge against him. The nights were reserved for telling their stories to the Harvey girls, and having a glass of bourbon with David, who, Dean had to admit – despite the fact that he really, really wanted to hate him for being lucky enough to marry Sabine – was actually a great guy.
With the werewolves gone for good – Dean and Sabine carefully swept the woods for any remaining creatures – the Winchesters had to admit that Oakvale was one of the most peaceful, calming places they'd ever set foot in; and it was starting to feel more like home than anywhere else, which was why they knew they had to leave as soon as possible, before they became even more attached.
"Mama, why does Sam have to go?" Maddy asked sadly, clinging to her mother's hand as Sam and Dean packed all their belongings into the Impala.
"Sam and Dean have to go save other people, baby," Sabine said, running a hand over her daughter's hair. Dean studied his little brother's face.
Sam Winchester crumbles in three… two…
"But I want my Sammy!" Maddy pouted. "Can't we keep him?"
One.
Dean tried to contain his smirk as Sam gathered the little blonde in his arms and hugged her tightly, murmuring to her. He would have listened in – you know, for blackmail – but at that moment David came out the front door and motioned for Dean.
"What's up?" he asked, making his way up the stairs to join David on the front porch.
"I don't want you to go, Sam," Maddy whimpered, securing her arms around his neck. Sam's heart was either melting or breaking – maybe both, he wasn't sure. "I'm gonna miss you."
"I know. I'll miss you, too," he said. "But, hey – you can call me whenever you want."
"And they can come visit," Sabine added, rubbing Maddy's back. Sam looked at her, surprised. She smiled. "Whenever you need a break. Just give us a call, and I'll have something chocolate waiting for you."
"I don't know how to thank you boys," David said. "If it hadn't been for you, I don't think my family would still be alive – and Sabine can tell you, I would have been no help. I've never held a gun in my life," he admitted with a smile. Dean grinned back. Why did David have to be so damned likeable?
"It was no problem."
"Still… I would feel better giving you something in return for your assistance," David said. He reached into an inner pocket of his suit jacket, pulled out a checkbook and a pen, and scribbled for a moment before tearing a check off and handing it to Dean.
Dean took one glance at the amount of money written on the check, and nearly choked. Ten thousand dollars?
"David, man, I can't take this," he said, ignoring the protests of the ever-present devil on his shoulder, and giving the snoozing angel on the other shoulder firm commands to beat the sunovabitch with his harp until he was rendered unconscious. As much as Dean enjoyed Greed – it was his favorite after Lust, with Gluttony in a close third – this was not the time.
"You're not taking it, I'm giving it to you," David replied. "Consider it payment if you must."
"No. Look, you let us stay in your house, you fed us, and… come on man, you saved my brother. That's more than I could ever ask for from anyone. Keep your money," he said, handing the check back to David as his shoulder-devil sobbed over the surrender of ten thou.
A few minutes later the Impala was all packed and ready to go, Maddy was placated, and Kate and Bryce had come out to give their farewells (which had included a lot of hugging; something Dean wished he could be much more disturbed about than he was) as Sabine dashed inside, saying that she'd forgotten something.
"Hey, Poker Alice," Dean called out, stopping Bryce on her way back inside after her sisters. "Call me when you hit eighteen – we're going to Vegas."
A huge grin spread across the girl's face.
"Sure. But we're splitting seventy-thirty, in my favor."
"Fifty-fifty."
"Sixty-forty – final offer."
"Con artist."
"Don't I know it," Bryce smirked, giving one last wave before trotting inside. Sam grinned at his brother.
"She's as bad as you."
"Dude, she's worse than me. And she's not even eleven yet." Try as he might, Dean couldn't mask the admiration in his voice. Bryce Harvey was going to be unstoppable in Vegas.
A second later Sabine reappeared, carrying a huge aluminum tin of brownies and a large, hastily gift-wrapped object which she handed to Sam and Dean respectively. Sam refrained from diving into the brownies right away, instead saying a quick "thank you" and stashing the chocolaty goodness in the backseat. Dean just gave Sabine a suspicious look as he regarded the thing in his hands.
"Well, open it!" she commanded, almost bouncing with excitement. Reverting back to a child-at-Christmas mentality – for really, who can stand holding a gift-wrapped object for more than a few moments before ripping into it? – Dean tore the paper away, and felt a beaming smile appear on his face.
He snuggled the flamethrower to his chest.
"I figure you can get more use out of it than I do," Sabine said. "Just don't use it inside, or around anything that isn't supposed to be incinerated."
"Deal," he said, trying very hard not to skip on his way to put the flamethrower in a place of honor in the trunk of the Impala.
"Oh, we're going to miss you two!" Sabine cooed, giving Sam a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. Dean had time to brace himself against the car before she turned to him and did the same thing – a good move, as his knees turned to jelly the second her lips touched his cheek. Okay, the years of practicing his finesse had been completely ineffective. Maybe it was just a Sabine thing…
"We'll keep in touch," Sam promised as Sabine went to stand with her husband, who put his arm around her shoulders.
"Our doors are always open to you," David said. "Anytime you need a rest, you're perfectly welcome here."
"Thanks. We might just take you up on that."
Epilogue
Time never stops.
Places change. People are born; people die. Families come and go. The truth becomes legend, and legend becomes myth.
Oakvale, Mississippi, however, was one of those places where time itself seemed to stand still. The woods still stood much as they had years ago, and aside from new people, the town hadn't really seen much in the ways of evolution. It was still quiet and peaceful; a little-known Southern town steeped in tradition and superstition.
She had been pondering this as she sat on her front porch watching her grandchildren play in the front yard – the same yard she had played in as a child; indeed, the same yard her mother, and grandmother, and great-grandmother had played in.
"Tristan, no!" cried her youngest grandson, Brogan. The six-year-old and his elder brother were apparently fighting over who should be the "good knight", and who should be the "bad knight".
With a heavy sigh, she pulled herself out of her rocking chair, took up her walking stick, and headed down the stairs into the grass.
"Now, really, is that any way to behave?" she admonished gently. "Brothers shouldn't fight."
"But Gramma, I should be Launcelot," Tristan insisted, deep blue eyes glinting with stubbornness. "I'm older. I should be the hero."
"Launcelot," she scoffed. "No, no, boys, I'll tell you a story about real heroes."
"Real heroes, Gramma?" Brogan asked, ears perking up with interest. She nodded.
"Yes," she settled down in the grass. "It's a story about two brothers – friends of the family – who spent their lives fighting evil. I remember very clearly the first time I met them," she said, smiling reminiscently. "It was one hundred years ago to the day; and I was five years old."