Sam sprinted from his car to the steps. Fumbling with his keys elicited a soft cuss. He pushed the door open with his hip, slipping inside and shutting it against the unseasonably chill evening. Once the alarm code was in, he tipped up the thermostat a couple of degrees.

Empty and still, there was a certain luxury to beating Nick home. Sam huffed a laugh, considering donning sweatpants and taking control of the TV. He imagined Nick arriving to find him vegetating on the sofa watching mindless shows. Nick wouldn't say a derogatory word, but no doubt there would be softly phrased questions about stress and blood pressure and his well being.

There would be plenty of time for mutual relaxation later. Lola was in Los Altos, having a sleepover at Audrey's, with their mutual best friend and classmate, Allie. There had been a clandestine background check on Audrey's family and home. Sam reflected on the contrast to when he was a child. He pushed away a needle of bitter incomprehension of how John could have left his little boys all alone in skivvy motels and rat-infested apartments. While it was reassuring to know the Powers weren't mafia plants conspiring to kidnap his daughter, sometimes Sam thought Gadreel went beyond the call of duty. However since someone had taken a pot shot at Michael, Lola's bodyguard had upped his vigilance. Sam wondered if Nick's cousin had headed away for his weekend off duty or if he was cruising through Los Altos like some paranoid helicopter parent. Sam was more worried about Audrey's Mom's phone call the evening before. Amid discussion of how late the girls would be allowed to stay up and what time Sam would collect his daughter, Lynn Powers had let Sam know that Audrey was excited to show her friends the training bra they had shopped for together.

Lola was eight, almost nine, and still very much a little girl in Sam's mind. That Audrey, a half year older, was seeing early pre-puberty changes, meant Lola wouldn't be far behind. There was something precious about childhood, especially to Sam, whose fraught past made it all more important that his daughter get to have the best experience possible. Lola was a sweet and happy, if occasionally mischievous, child. Sam was dreading anything that would change that. It wasn't that he thought Lola would turn into a demon-teenager. His concerns were more to do with the cruelty of other kids, cliques and mean girls, teasing and peer pressure, boys breaking hearts and not being asked to dance by her crushes. Already Lola's bedroom walls had transformed into a shrine to One Direction, and Nick had repeatedly told of his astonishment at being put in the position of refusing to buy his baby a scanty glittery bikini for summer pool parties.

Pushing back any thoughts of Lola as a teenager, Sam dumped his book bag at his office area under the stairs. His library lined floor to ceiling under the wide stairwell, except where his desk sat against the wall that was shared by the kitchen. A few years back, Sam had taken the decision to set up this nook as his study area. It ensured the den was exclusively the family room. When Sam had been conferred with his doctorate, Nick had bought a beautiful modern desk from the studio of a young designer who created curved masterpieces from reclaimed ash and olive woods. When Sam was announced as the new Associate Professor of Cultural Anthropology, there had also been a new MacBook Pro, a weekend in Carmel, and a painting of Moss Beach by Dean to hang in his cubby office at Stanford.

Sam put away his papers and set his Mac on the ergonomically slanted smooth desk surface. He had to review his plans for Monday morning's meeting with his two teaching assistants about the first essay assignment for the brand new sparkling freshmen. But that could be done later. He moved to the kitchen and filled the drip filter. Letting the coffee brew he headed upstairs. A quick shower, soft worn denims, his red v-neck tee, and a navy warm hoodie, Sam had left his work behind. He gave the bathroom a spruce up, braved Niall Horan's multiple eyes to make Lola's bed and vacuum around her piles of tennis rackets and little ponies' stable, before coming down to the den. There was a twinkle in his eye and seduction on Sam's mind as he rooted into the back of the dresser for a box of pillar candles and a half used coconut Yankee jar. Once they were arranged to his satisfaction Sam gave a pleased nod and made the decision to relax.

With a tall cup of Arabica and his feet on the arm of their new black leather recliner sofa, Sam allowed his shoulder muscles to unbunch and his chest to fall with expelled breath. Through the long windows the sea was a murky grey that matched the sky. Wind whipped white horses onto the Pacific, making rolling waves race to the shore. He pondered if in the morning, there would be a line of seaweed tucked up against the rocky wall below their decking. There'd probably be legions of surfers over at Half Moon Bay too. Their outdoor furniture was secure, the hot tub tarpaulin tied down and the windows shut tight. If a storm did break over them, everything was ship shape. He'd miss having Lola with him if there was thunder and lightning. From the first time when toddler Lola had been frightened, Sam had made a game of electrical storms, counting the gaps between forked strikes into the ocean and the fearsome rumbles that followed. He grinned remembering the spectacular light show that had broken over Eudora when they'd visited Pawpaw. Lola had danced and trilled with glee, making Dean Campbell shake his head with soft chuckles at the amazing reaction of his great-granddaughter to a tempest that shook the roof.

The sound of Nick's key turning in the lock, made Sam's heart do a quickstep. He quirked his lips at his body's unconscious reaction to his husband's arrival. Twisting round, Sam called over the back of the sofa.

"In here, Nick."

"Hey Sweetheart."

Nick appeared, slate gray suit jacket splattered with the first large raindrops. He bore a cool bag. A bottle of wine was tucked under his arm.

"Whatya got?" Sam enquired, tilting his head to receive a soft pressed chaste kiss.

"Rib eye steaks and a bottle of Silver Oak Cab Sav."

Sam reached up as Nick began to straighten, pulling on both sides of the undone necktie so that their lips could meet for a second caress.

"You're spoiling me," Sam said with a light tease, as he released his hold on the silk blend and patted the lapel of Nick's jacket.

"How about you light the first fire of the Fall?" Nick suggested with a satisfied smirk. "I'll feed you melt in the mouth beef with sauce Béarnaise and crispy sautéed potatoes?"

"Alchemy," Sam grinned. Whenever Nick indulged in a lovingly cooked meal, flexing his restaurateur-in-the-kitchen muscles, the results were magic.

"I'll handle the alchemy," Nick huffed, moving to the corner bar. He put down the bottle of wine, "Will you decant?"

Sam nodded. "You want any help in the kitchen?"

"Naw. You take it easy. Any news of our daughter from her overnight vacation?"

"No. Having too much fun, I guess." Sam carded his hand through his hair. "I got a text from Gadreel, saying he'd dropped her off."

"She knows she can come home if she's not enjoying it."

Sam nodded his agreement, as he stood to make his way over to the log box. It wasn't winter, just an unseasonable low. Sam knew how to make a little pyre with sparse fuel in the centre of a grate, enough to throw out a romantic glow and add subtle warmth to the room.

Nick watched him selecting kindling and slim logs. "It's a treat to have a date night so close to our anniversary."

"Mmm," Sam raised his brows, "Is that what this is now?"

Nick's eyes twinkled. He crept up and snaked an arm around Sam's waist, pulling their bodies flush together. "You, me, alone, food and wine, roaring fire, heated lovemaking. Thoughts?"

Sam shook his head fondly before leaning it against Nick's shoulder, "Thoughts? They mirror yours. I'll snag the rug from our bedroom."

"Oh good," Nick shook with humor, "My old bones might crack on the bare wood."

Sam elbowed him, "Less of the old."

"I'll be 47 in November." Nick gave an exaggerated downturned lip.

That deserved another elbowing, "Stop, you noodle," Sam sniggered, "You're as bad as Lola: "I'll be nine, Papa, I'll be nine.""

Nick smiled broadly, "That's my girl."

"Impossible." Sam snorted, "Go! Cook!"

Nick chuckled all the way out of the room.

Their meal was as delicious as Nick promised. Nick eschewed his suit for a causal v-neck sweater and bare feet under his jeans. He leaned across the table to feed morsels of heaven to his husband, as he had promised. Leaving the clean up for the morning, they adjourned to the den. Candle flickers and the low licking flames in the hearth lit their indulgence. Jewel ruby tones danced in their goblet wine glasses. Berry notes with long satiny rich tones warmed Sam's mouth and made him crave to taste the vintage from Nick's lips. There was no musical background. The soundtrack was the crackling of logs, the patter of rain, and their shared breathing.

They whispered hushed compliments and concerns. Nick wanted to chase the university administration to get their finger out and grant Sam his parking space. Sam wanted to go online to leave a scathing comment on a mediocre review that a disgruntled patron had left on Trip Advisor for The Gates of Hell. Nick dissuaded him with a rueful grin about the breaks of an online world.

Nick sneaked away to supposedly hit the head. Sam crept on tip toe to his desk, then skittered back into the living room, socks sliding on the floor, just in time to plant his secret under his butt on the rug.

Nick's chest was bare, shoes gone, boxers peeking over his open zipper. His wink would have won awards for lewdness. Sam salivated at the promise. In one hand Nick dangled a gift bag from the jewelers in Menlo Park, and in the other a padded leather blindfold.

Sam wet his dry lips. He gasped, "Nick."

"For you." Nick said simply with a half-smile as he sank to his knees beside his beloved.

Sam raised his hand, palm stroking Nick's chest, pushing into his warm skin. He leaned in testing Nick's nipple with his tongue. The older man gave a delicious moan. Sam strained forward, desire coiling, half-hard already in anticipation of what was to come. He traced downwards with his fingertips, over Nick's soft belly, closing his eyes, imagining nuzzling into the yielding flesh later.

"Open your peepers." Nick commanded with amusement. "Don't you want to know what's in the bag before we move to the blindfold?"

Sam hummed, raising his lids to see Nick's grin. "Tease."

Nick pulled the glossy bag closer, hooking the cord handle with his curved pinkie finger. "Only the best for the best."

"You are so cheesy." Sam laughed. He pulled a decent sized box from the bag.

"The best ten years of my life." Nick whispered into his ear, as Sam tried to concentrate on unwrapping the gift.

"Nick!" Sam gasped. "I love it."

It was a watch, but not any watch, a Xetum Stinson with a gorgeous large round face and eco-friendly production. Sam also knew it was the bones of a $1000, because he'd been eyeing them longingly. He added points for observation onto Nick's scorecard.

"But you do know Sunday's anniversary is our seventh?" Sam yanked Nick's chain.

Nick knew he was being ribbed. "What? You got a seven-year-itch."

"Oh I have an itch alright." Sam threw his head back and guffawed. He wasn't sure that itch quite described the yearning need building in his groin.

Lips met the hollow of his throat, the rise of his Adam's apple. Nick murmured how much he loved the long expanse of Sam's neck, all tanned skin crying out to be worshipped. A hickey was sucked hard and deep. Sam's breath skipped as pain and pleasure grew. He tugged a hand into Nick's hair, holding his husband there, communicating that he should keep going. Sam stretched his arms up. Nick removed Sam's hoodie and tee, all the time tiny fleeting pecks and tips of tongue were exchanged. Sam slipped out of his jeans while Nick leaned back to accomplish the same urgent feat.

Nick's hand searched for the eye mask but found the long white manila envelope as he swept across the pile of the rug.

"What's this?" Nick's brow rose.

"Dunno," Sam shrugged with an impish smile. "Maybe your husband got you a gift too."

"My husband?" Nick's brow rose impossibly higher. He ran his hand up Sam's thigh. Sam opened for him, allowing Nick to reach tantalizingly close to Sam's heavy balls and straining cock. "Did he? How kind of him."

Nick ignored the envelope to bend double. Sam raised his hips, pushing forward between Nick's parted lips. The warm wet heat had him panting. He almost came undone when Nick rolled out all his tricks, flicking his tongue, sucking his cheeks, opening his throat to take Sam to the hilt. One hand held Sam at the hip, another tapped with caressing promise on his perineum, worked delicious pressure under his balls, then along his rim. Sam palmed Nick's neck, stroked his hair, didn't know what to do with his hands.

"I'm gonna," was the only warning Sam could give. He shuddered. Nick's nails dug into Sam's skin as he tilted his neck a notch, and Sam was coming, blindingly with repetition of his adoration and love. "Love you, my Nick, my lover, my Lucifer, my hubby, my forever."

Blinking in the flickering light, Sam saw his love bracing himself with one hand, curled on the rug, his lips swollen, chin glistening. He reached a hand to wipe the trail of come from the corner of Nick's lips. He sucked his finger clean, seeing Nick's pupils dilated, knowing he'd caused it. It gave him a thrill of power and possessiveness. He caught the hand that lay loose on Nick's thigh, taking it to press against his lips, hard and fierce. Breathing through his nose, Sam scented Nick's skin, expelling a deep throated moan into Nick's metacarpals. Satisfied, he sank back into the soft rug, blissed out as Nick cleaned him up and took the side closer to the fire, propped on one elbow, slitting open the envelope.

Sam held his breath, eyes wide. This time his inner tremble was nervousness, fluttering inside, hoping Nick would approve of his choice.

"Oh Sam. Really? You organized all this?" Nick's parted lips told of his joyous surprise.

"Uh-uh, got to spend my hard earned bucks somehow. President's weekend, a late Valentine. There's a print out of the flights to Vancouver attached. Dean and Cas will have Lola." Sam ducked his head and added sheepishly, "I kind of promised Fergus he could go to Scotland for Christmas, if he covered our romantic weekend on the Snow Train to Jasper."

Nick play-punched his shoulder. "Does that mean you're volunteering to work shifts at the restaurant over the holidays?"

"Ahem. No. But I could ask Brady to stay for Christmas and he might work…"

"Don't even finish that nightmarish thought!" Nick pressed a single finger to Sam's lips. "Lola's godfather is welcome to come, but the only reason he'll be stepping foot inside the Gates is when we all boogie down for the launch of 2013."

"Boogie? Seriously." Sam snorted through the held finger.

"Nothing wrong with a boogie woogie."

"Oh Lord, I'm gonna have to forbid the use of that word." Sam's shoulders shook.

"I bet you Castiel knows what a boogie woogie is." Nick persisted.

"Have you seen Cas dance? And I don't mean when he's surgically attached to Dean." Sam gaped.

"I have and…"

They chuckled in unison, "It's hilarious."

"We should dance." Nick's voice deepened.

Sam opened his mouth to protest a lack of music, but found his shoulders hitting the rug, his husband hovering over him, and his legs lifting to rest on Nick's shoulders.

"Love you like this." Nick approved.

"Spread out for you." Sam agreed.

"You want the mask?" Nick asked.

"Want to see you." Sam shook his head.

Nick hummed happily, leaning forward to plant a hand next to one shoulder and use the other to card Sam's hair back from his forehead. It was warm under the glow of the sinking fire, beads of sweat dotted. Sam devoted attention to tasting them. He nibbled on Nick's top lip, sucking on it and scraping his teeth on his deep Cupid's bow.

They built a rhythm, sweet for its rolling languid pace. Nick worked him open slow with warming lube and a stretch that went straight to Sam's dick. Muscles strained as Sam met Nick's lips again. His hands touched Nick's arms, his side. Multiple unhurried moist kisses travelled up along the tender skin of Sam's inner thighs. The light evening stubble on Nick's chin tingled and dappled Sam's nerve endings, driving him crazy with need.

When finally Nick drove in balls deep and hissing Sam's name through gritted teeth, he stroked Sam's cock with perfection and Sam came for the second time. Painted in Sam's come, Nick's body rode Sam, pulling out and thrusting forward as small moans escaped. They moved together, united. The muscles of Nick's back flexed as he pushed in and gasped his desire. Sam bit down on his lip, holding back groans of pleasure. Building heat drove his hips to arch up, taking Nick deeper, angling to have his husband find his sweet spot.

"There!" Sam puffed air. "Yes, Nick, more."

Sam's head seemed too heavy to hold up. He dropped it back, closing his eyes, making his own blindfold of fluttering lids, sensing powerfully Nick's building pulsing orgasm. When Nick came, he fell forward, brushing Sam's prostate once more, pulling another gasp of tingling want out of his spent lover.

"So good."

"My love."

Sam wasn't sure who said what. They shared intent and thought.

Somehow during the night, the rug wrapped itself around them with along the soft fleecy throw from the armchair where Lola liked to curl up in with her books. Sam woke stiff and achy, melting to the first sight of his husband. Sam nuzzled into Nick's tussled hair, breathing in his scent, reveling in the rightness of belonging. Braving morning breath, Sam wakened Nick with the best way to start a day.

At breakfast Nina Simone's sublime voice was drowned under Nick's stove-side serenade that he had put a spell on Sam, who shut him up with pressed closed mouth kisses and an exchange of good morning text messages with Lola. Then there were pancakes drizzled with Winchester Honey from Castiel's bees, tall mugs of strong smooth coffee, a shared shower, and another quicker shared shower after their run along the storm tossed sands.

Nick pressed two kisses to Sam's wrist, above and below his new timepiece, before sadly couple time ended with Nick heading to open the restaurant and Sam to collect their daughter.

Lola was full of beans and tales of her night with her friends. All the way around Whole Foods and the farmers' market Sam heard about the mischief of eating chips by torchlight and illicit experimentation with Audrey's Mom's lipstick. They pit stopped at the craft store in Menlo Park for Lola to pick out a little something to give Uncle Castiel.

At home, Sam juiced organic oranges, peaches and carrots with a lemon and a touch of ginger. He brought two tall glasses into the family room. They watched Tangled again. Sam persuaded Lola she couldn't wear her Punzel dress to Dean's house the next day. There was a pout and a downturned lip that made Lola look so like Nick that Sam couldn't be even mildly annoyed with his little princess.

While Lola carefully wrapped her gift for Castiel, Sam made po'boys adulterated with salad leaves and salsa. Lola brought her raggedy Bunny to the kitchen table, tucking him under her arm and then on her lap as she ate. The old comfort toy alerted Sam that Lola might have gotten very little quality sleep the night before. Once they had cleared up together, he ran her a bath and tucked her into bed early with a goodnight kiss.

It was after midnight when Nick got home. He slipped in between the sheets, pressing kisses between Sam's shoulders, waking him with icy feet and cold fingers, until Sam dozily snuggled into being the little spoon and drifted back to dreamland.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Dean!" Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean!"

"Hold your freaking horses, Sammy! I'm not gonna disappear on ya!" Dean called from the kitchen.

"What are you fussing over? Get in here! He's nearly at the door." Sam roared, "Nick has the candles lighting."

"Daddy! Come on." Robbie joined in, as he jumped on the spot unable to stay still with his excitement. He had kicked off his sandals and was skipping in place with his bare toes peeking from under his jeans.

Jude zoomed by Sam's leg on the scooter he was not permitted to ride indoors, heading for the foyer. Luckily Nick got a sweeping one-armed grip of the three year old, while stalling the toy by its handle. He plunked Jude, too surprised to protest, onto his lap. Just then Dean ducked back into the family room from the connecting door to the massive farmhouse kitchen of their Occidental home, muttering about golden crisp mashed potato toppings, casseroles and oven timers.

"They're coming," Robbie vibrated in his lookout spot, half hidden by the long drapes.

Sam peered over his eldest nephew's head to see Castiel looking moderately perplexed as Lola tugged him away from the tree line along the meandering gravel path, her unconcealed excitement infecting Smaug, adolescent Husky guard dog cum drooling slob. Hearing Castiel gruffly order Smaug to behave made Sam snicker. He ruffled Robbie's hair in silent appreciation for the boy's excellent naming choices.

Sam glanced back, checking everyone was in place. Castiel's birthday had been and gone, but the kids had been up for surprising their Pops. Lola's large-eyed coy request to help Uncle Cas take Smaug for a walk, had been expertly done. Dean hissed in Sam's ear that Lola was gonna be dangerous.

Robbie darted from the window to the open door, ready to grab Cas as soon as he and Lola were out of the boot room. Dean had leant against the side of the sofa. Fiona perched on its arm, wrapped around her Daddy, her blond head leaning on his shoulder. She had her ever-present baby-doll, Dolly, hanging out of her other hand. Dolly had a pink hat to match Fiona's sparkling tee, but wore nothing else. Jude, whose bright green tee declared he was a Little Dude, escaped Nick's hold and ran back and forth so much that Sam suspected he'd be planted on his pull up at any moment.

The family room wasn't as spacious as the huge kitchen, more snug and homey, large TV mounted on the wall above a mountain of toys and games. There was a long sofa, three mismatched armchairs and a few beanbags stolen from the kids' rooms for the day. Above the wide stone fireplace hung one of Dean's largest works. Sam considered it his brother's masterpiece. When he had showed it at the Salmon Creek Gallery, there had been a multitude of offers to buy, even though it had been marked 'not for sale'. It was a view looking down from the cliff at the Cove, the tide was out, sands clean and inviting. Three little figures built sandcastles while two adult shapes swam closer to the cliff where the water was deep. Sam had noted that Castiel and Dean's fingers would tangle, or their eyes met softly, when one noticed the other's gaze lingering on the painting.

The Winchesters had been lucky to find their rural home on Joy Road. It was a doer-upper foreclosure that fell just inside their stretch-to-make-it-possible budget limit. On almost an acre of land, the 1950s built single storey house had four bedrooms and a larger back lot with neglected vegetable patches and out houses already laid out for Castiel's sustainability plans. It was surrounded by redwoods giving it the feel of a private retreat, yet it was barely two miles into the community of Occidental and only ten to Bodega Bay and Salmon Creek beyond.

The side door to the house opened and havoc reigned. Fee and Jude couldn't contain themselves and started to sing a jumbled up version of Happy Birthday. Nick picked up the extra large pie dish as he stood from the sofa. The draft of breeze from opening and closing doors blew out a few of the candles. Robbie flew by everyone and leaped into a stunned Castiel's arms, wrapping his legs around his father's hips and singing that it was another birthday.

"What is all this?" Castiel double blinked while jiggling his eight year old in his arms.

Dean stood more slowly, crossed the space between them and kissed Castiel's cheek.

"Happy Birthday again Darlin'," He ducked his head slightly and explained, "The kids wanted a family celebration."

"And I said that all the parties for the guys in school are at the weekend, so Pops' party should be too." Robbie added his own logic as he slipped down to stand on his own two feet.

"And I was a secret agent." Lola bopped up and down on her toes, "I was really good wasn't I, Daddy? Papa?"

Nick and Sam nodded, but Lola wasn't finished.

"And I asked Gadreel, and he said you must be really calm, like Sister Julienne who never gets shouty, and you should make up a story for you, like you are in Mogadaso… Mogidisu… that place where Gad was spying for Uncle Michael but was pretending he wanted to build a factory."

Sam looked at Nick, who was stony-faced. He opened his mouth to advise Lola against taking up spying and secret agenting as a favored activity. The trouble she could cause and experience was on the tip of his tongue but instead he asked, "And what did you pretend to be?"

Lola stood tall, drawing up to her full four and a half feet, "I was a girl, who had an Uncle, who had a dog, who needed a walk in the woods, and didn't know there was going to be a party, and she was very nice and liked purple and small monkeys and her name was Deanna."

Castiel hummed with the corners of his lips turned up, "This explains why we discussed all that can be purple on the way to the winery boundary fence and spider moneys all the way back."

"So long as it wasn't flying howler monkeys." Dean gave an exaggerated shudder before turning his troublemaker grin on Sam, "or clowns, hey Sam? Imagine if her secret identity loved clowns?"

"No thank you, Dean." Sam pursed his lips, which only made Dean, and other nameless family members, howl with laughter.

"You gonna blow out these candles before there is a lake of wax on your pie?" Nick shouted when they recovered.

"Oh God, Cas!" Dean yelped, "Save the pie!"

"My pleasure," Castiel smirked in Dean's direction before coming over and bending down to blow out the remaining candles.

Sam clapped along with the cheering kids. It was their Pawpaw's Castiel Welcome Pie, the peach wonder that Dean Campbell had baked with Dean way back when Sam had been on enforced bed rest, and now Dean baked it with mini-chef Robbie as a new family tradition.

Castiel shared out slices of the decadent treat. Dean warned the kids that if they filled their bellies now, then they wouldn't be able to eat the later yummy foods. Sam shook his head when Dean surreptitiously took a second slice of the pie when the kids weren't looking. For the sake of fraternal peace and harmony he bit back a snarky comment of practicing what you preach.

Dean stood patting his full belly and winked at Sam, knowing his brother had spotted the double serving. While Dean was by no means overweight, he had lost both the terrible teenage gauntness and the worn anxious look of nine years earlier. His body was softer, not so lean anymore. Of course, Dean would rib Sam and say he had no right to make remarks as he hadn't pushed three children into the world. In fact, he'd point out Sam hadn't pushed out any.

Lost in his thoughts, Sam looked up when Dean and Robbie moved to take the empty pie plates to the kitchen. He leaned into Nick's side, feeling his husband's arm slide around his shoulders.

"You good?" Nick checked.

Sam shuffled closer and down into the squishy cushions so he could place his head on Nick's shoulder, "Uh-uh, yeah. Better than good. Golden."

Nick's hand rubbed up and down. His voice held caressing humor, "You're so cute like this."

Sam gave a mild stink eye but didn't protest.

"You are. My adorable Sam."

"Daddy and Papa are getting all snuggly." Lola announced at volume.

Nick snaked his free hand out, pulling his daughter by the ends of her flared denim skirt. "Can't have you missing out."

Sam pushed his back into the corner of the seat to make room for Lola to be a snuggle bug in the middle. The moment was sweet and precious, not even Lola's boney elbow in his ribs spoiled it. It didn't last. Robbie came barreling back in from the kitchen, offering to take Lola to see the chickens, and she was gone.

Dean cocked his eye towards Jude who was curled into a ball on the larger old corduroy beanbag. Smaug was laid out on her side behind him.

"I think it's nap time." Castiel announced, rising to help Dean take the twins down to their bedroom.

"You want help?" Sam offered, hoping his reluctance to move wasn't too evident.

"Naw, Sammy. We got this." Dean said, planting a squirming protesting Fiona on his hip, while Castiel carefully scooped their dozing youngest into his arms.

Dean and Castiel came back via the kitchen, bringing a pot of coffee for the adults and homemade sweet lemonade for Robbie and Lola, who followed in their wake.

"Can I give Uncle Cas his gift now?" Lola asked.

"Of course," Sam agreed, nodding at Nick, who eased out of the comfortable seat to retrieve their presents from the car.

"There was no need to give me a gift," Castiel huffed, "Wasn't a special birthday."

"I dunno, Cas," Dean rejoined, "35 is pretty special, and y'know gifts are all good."

Castiel quirked his lips, both men sharing a conspiratorial look that had Sam almost nervous.

Nick closed the front door carefully so not to wake the napping twins. As the older man reappeared, Dean produced a square beaten copper frame from the cabinet under the mounted TV.

"Robbie was reading a story where the Granny got a string of pearls because it was her thirtieth wedding anniversary." Castiel began.

"So he asked Cas how many years we'd be married before Christmas, and Cas said five." Dean continued.

"And then Robbie wanted to know was there a special thing to give…"

Dean's shoulders began to heave. Sam furrowed his brow at him. Dean blurted, half unintelligible with laughter, "Cas googled it, and he says all serious like… Wait for it… It says here Dean, that I need to give you wood… as you can imagine, I took him up on his offer."

Sam stretched to the armchair and whacked Dean's arm. "You're incorrigible."

"I think you'll find you mean adorable," Dean responded snap quick before moving on, "When we had recovered, Cas continued his nerdish exploration of traditional gifting. He found out that for seven years of wedded bliss we should be getting you guys copper or wool."

"We found the frame in Celestine's." Castiel told them, breaking out a toothy grin at Dean's storytelling, "and the photo is an old one, from your album."

Sam received the frame from Dean's hand. It was an attractive crafted piece with a black felt covered standing leg extending from the back. The photo was one of his favorites, occupying pride of place in the early sheets of their very first family album.

"How did you get this?" He asked in awe, tilting it for Nick to see. Sam's floppy nineteen year old hair spilled onto his forehead not quite covering his eye, as he craned his neck to be in the shot with Nick who gazed blissfully towards his new boyfriend. The top buttons of Sam's black work-shirt were open. Nick's silk tie slack at the collar of his matching dark shirt. It had been taken in The Gates of Hell by Tom, Meg's brother, when he'd dined with friends that Easter Monday. Sam loved it for the pleasure evident on both their faces so early in their relationship.

"It was a covert operation." Lola giggled. "Do you like it, Papa?"

"We had inside help." Dean confirmed.

"I love it." Sam beamed.

"We love it." Nick confirmed. He whispered into Sam's ear, "Do you think we should buy her a James Bond boxset and arrange a day trip to ADL's San Francisco operations, or tell Gadreel he'll be banned from the house if he tells any more Somalia stories?"

"Both," Sam muttered with a wry twist to his lips. Before he could get maudlin imagining adult-Lola heading up the undercover division of her empire, the imp in question produced her Hello Kitty paper wrapped gift for Castiel.

"I bought it for you outta my allowance." Lola made sure to tell her uncle.

"That is very kind of you, Lola." Castiel bent from the waist to give her a one armed hug.

"Open it." Robbie and Lola echoed each other.

To the sound of ripping paper, Sam watched his daughter's bitten lip and twisted fingers as she waited for the verdict on her choice.

"Oh Lola. That's perfect." Castiel said warmly, holding up the Honey Bee sun catcher to the light from the window.

"You couldn't have gotten Cas anything better," Dean said seriously, reaching over to run his thumb down on the smooth stained glass between the wire framing.

"You like?" Lola double checked with Castiel.

"I love." Castiel nodded, grabbing her for a tighter hug.

Lola danced over to Sam and Nick, filled with delight. Nick patted the free side of the sofa for her to sit next to him.

"We got you something too." Sam handed over the not at all suspiciously laptop bag shaped parcel.

"Hmm, I wonder what this is?" Castiel deepened his voice, winking at Robbie.

The verdict was positive on the cross body leather trimmed laptop and messenger bag. Once more thanks were exchanged on all sides, Robbie helped his Pops try it out, confirming it would accommodate his computer with plenty of space for notebooks and essentials.

Over coffee, Dean pulled Sam aside.

"So," Dean glanced away, acting unconcerned, but that didn't fool Sam. "How's being a professor working out for ya?"

Sam snorted, "Associate professor, Mr. Gallery Director."

"Yeah, well, I only do a couple of hours while the kids are in daycare or school. What I mean is, those guys with tenure and shit, they're not giving the department newbie any crap, are they Sammy?"

Sam couldn't stop his lips rising in a fond smile, picturing all the times his silent big brother had braved school yard bullies to stop them picking on his nerdy little bro. He clapped Dean on the shoulder.

"You are still the director, Dean. It's on that brass plate Benny screwed into the office door. And," He huffed, "there's been no crap at Stanford. They've welcomed me onboard, and have been real complimentary about my paper being published. And yeah, I mean, I might have been allocated the late lecture on Fridays, the smallest office, and the teaching assistant who smells of wet dog, but it's all good."

"Good." Dean nodded firmly. He swung his thumb towards window, "Any news from up north?"

"You mean from Adam and his girl in Seattle? Nothing new. Too busy settling in as biology pre-med seniors, I guess, but he promised in his last facebook message that they'd try to make it down for Lola's birthday next month." Sam explained.

Dean hummed. "Will be good to see the other college boy in the family. But I meant Bobby and the puppies."

"Shush! Dee!" Sam hissed, "No mention of the impending birth in Sioux Falls. Lola wants one."

"Ah!" Dean sucked in his lips. "Is she going to get one?"

"Dean," Sam eye rolled. He kept his voice low, but Lola was entertaining her Daddy and Robbie. "Bobby's breeding mastiffs. But yeah, I think a pet would be great for her, just something smaller and less like the dog in Hellraiser."

"Ah Sammy, you're not getting her a kitten? Are you? You know I'm allergic." Dean scrubbed at his nose.

Sam wrinkled his brow and cocked his head towards the yard, "What do you call Bert and Ernie out there?"

"Farm cats." Dean pronounced, "They sleep in the outhouse."

Sam just shook his head. Dean's mild allergy meant that their two black cats were excluded from the bedrooms but there was a suspicious soft bed in the boot room and kitty toys under the kitchen table.

"Hey Cas," Nick was saying as the brothers rejoined the conversation, "did you do anything special for the birthday itself?"

Castiel plunked a hip on the edge of the chair Dean had taken. He ran his fingers, almost unconsciously, into the short strands at the back of Dean's neck. "Tuesday evening, Inias and Alfie kindly took our children with their daughters for burgers and a DVD showing back at their place."

"And I took Cas down to Novato to see the IMAX release of Raiders of the Lost Ark." Dean added enthusiastically.

Nick laughed loudly. He asked with a put on air of fond disbelief, "You took your husband on his birthday to indulge your Harrison Ford fantasies?"

"Ah, Nick babe," Sam huffed softly, "I guess they didn't see that much of Indy. Wrapped together in the back row like a couple of moon-eyed teens?"

"Hey," Dean protested with hitched chuckling speech, "We were three rows from the back."

Sam raised his brows.

Dean sniggered, "And my gift blew."

Nick and Sam exchanged a knowing look about Dean's sense of humor.

Robbie piped up, "Bet it didn't, Daddy. Pops said your gift was awesome."

Castiel's was pink-tinged from his collar up. His Adam's apple bobbed. Dean squeezed his thigh, while Cas nodded slowly at his eldest, who looked proud as punch that he had spoken up.

When a natural lull fell in their conversations, Dean rose to check on their meal. Sam tapped Nick's arm and looked towards the door. The pitter patter of small feet along hardwood flooring presaged the arrival of the twins, in their PJs and slipper socks, trying to sneak in unnoticed. It was adorable, especially when they were outraged that they were caught and welcomed in.

Jude let out a squeal of, "But we're small."

Sam swept him up to carry his little nephew on his shoulders. "And now you're tall."

Jude pealed with giggles. "I can touch the roof!"

"Ceiling, Juju." Robbie corrected.

"I can touch the ceiling." Jude repeated. Mindful of his precious cargo, Sam crouched through the doorway as he followed Dean into the kitchen. "Is very high. Do you get dizzy, Unca Sam?"

"Bet he does," Dean encouraged, before Sam respond, "Sasquatches are very dizzy creatures."

"Thank you, Jerk." Sam sighed, putting Jude down. The little scamp ran straight back into the family room.

"You're welcome, Princess." Dean chortled.

They busied themselves with getting the casserole and roasted vegetables ready to serve. Dean pulled oven heated plates out and handed Sam mitts to bring them to the table. Castiel appeared to take the basket of round bread rolls and a carafe of water. The others followed in, chatting and laughing together as they made their way to their places at the long farmhouse dining table. Robbie and Lola helped Fee and Jude onto their booster cushions. Robbie put a cup of juice into Fiona's grabby hands.

Everything was set to go for a meal that was making Sam's mouth water from the aromas of Dean's cooking. He half-turned to check that they were ready to move. Dean was standing arms loose, next to his giant casserole dish with the serving spoon wedged into the potato topping like a leaning flag-pole. Sam wrinkled his brow at him.

"I don't…" Dean cleared his throat and then scrubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw, "say it much, but Sammy, you've grown, overgrown, into a fine human being. I'm real proud of you."

"Right back atcha, Dean," Sam felt his chest swell with pride and affection. Hearing Dean break through his wall of emotional repression meant so much to him. He knew his brother would protest any talking about their feelings, so he clapped his hand all the way around Dean's bicep and quirked a dimpled grin, "We made it, big brother."

Dean's gaze spanned across their assembled family, taking in the fridge magnet photo collage of those not present that day. Sam tracked his eyes and followed suit.

"We did, Sam. We made it." Dean gulped, then he cleared his throat again, ducked his glistening eyes a moment, before he added, "Well come on, let's eat, you big moose, before you get all chick flick."

Sam wisely refrained from pointing out that Dean was the glassy eyed one. He looked over Dean's shoulder, catching Nick mid-admiring peek in his direction. Nick pursed his lips in a quick private psychic kiss. Castiel had settled the kids and was patting Dean's empty chair in encouragement for his husband to take his place at his side.

Sam carried the warmed plates, trailing behind his brother, just like when he was small.

Back then his bowed head would have looked from under long bangs and shy lids at the sway of his marvelous silent brother's walk, and at old scuffed trainers that kicked up dust, or snow, or sand, or garbage, as they ventured onwards down a long winding path that had led them here and now, to this warm glowing home and their family on Joy Road.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN+++++++++++++++++++++++

Thank you for reading. Thank you for your patience with delays, specifically for this last chapter. But as Chuck said, endings are hard.

Thank you again for every kudos, favorite, comment, review, follow, bookmark and subscription on AO3 and here. They encouraged and buoyed me to continue (and to improve) this story. Special mention to my cheerleaders (you'll know who you are, I hope.)

This story has taken almost nine months to write (kind of an appropriate amount of time) and it has mostly been a pleasure, a wonder and a revelation to me. I will be bereft without this version of Dean, Castiel, Sam and Lucifer.

Fin.