sinka

* * *

Sam stood in the centre of the room, waiting. Everything was ready, or at least as ready as it would ever be. In a few minutes, everything would go to Hell (literally) or be fixed forever. Dean was hidden behind one of the pillars, and even from the distance Sam could feel the anger and anxiousness radiating from his brother. He had strongly opposed to the idea of Sam acting as bait, but he had lost the battle of wills in the end. There was no other option, they had to bring Cerberus here, and they were fairly sure that it would come for him. For his damned blood.

The ghost of Philip II had gone somewhere else, probably to the other side of the castle. The connection between them worked both ways, and if the dog felt his presence there was a huge chance it wouldn’t show up, and they couldn’t risk it. It had to be done tonight, before the hellhound regained even more power and started attacking the tourists.

The silence was complete, except for the faint drumming of rain falling on the roof, and the moonlight filtered through the stained windows, painting faintly coloured shadows on the black and while floor. The result was a little eerie but Sam wasn’t scared; his hands were sweaty but didn’t tremble when he started lighting the candles one by one.

When it was finished, he took a step back, his breaths echoing in the church and his whole body bristling in anticipation. The demon knife a welcomed weight in his right hand, even if they weren’t sure it could do more than tickle the beast.

Right on cue, the ground started trembling.

Dean cursed softly but Sam didn’t turn his head. All his attention was focused on the darkness behind the opened doors. The darkness that, like a black void, was slowly taking shape and form until three sets of eyes locked on him. A shudder ran through Sam’s body.

There was a thunder in the distance.

Thirty feet.

“No howling and barking this time? Are we trying to be stealthy?”

The monster narrowed its eyes, clearly suspicious. It entered the room slowly, its three heads looking around and sniffling at the air until stopping for a moment on the pillar behind which Dean was hidden. Sam could feel his heart skipping a beat but the monster made a strange sound, very much like a snort, and fixed on Sam again.

Sam grinned maniacally. Cerberus had detected his brother and had dismissed him. Not many had underestimated a Winchester and lived to tell the tale.

Twenty feet.

“That’s it. You want it. You crave it, isn’t it?” Sam definitely knew how that felt. “You want to suck me dry, don’t you?”

The hellhound showed its teeth and it took a few seconds for Sam to realize the monster was grinning back at him.

Fifteen feet.

Sam lowered his stance and opened his arms in silent invitation. “Then come and get it.”

Another thunder. Another lightning. The blink of an eye.

Cerberus jumped.

Somebody screamed and Sam would never know if it had been him or his brother. He dropped to the floor and kicked violently to make the candles fall, hoping against hope that any of them would hit the mark before the dog reached him. There was a sudden wave of light and heat and Sam had to close his eyes.

And then he felt a puff of breath on his face.

With his heart racing and the blood roaring in his ears, Sam forced himself to raise his head. Only to see three pairs of yellow eyes looking back at him mere inches from his face. He froze, looking in some kind of daze at the string of drool that ran from the monster’s clenched teeth down its jaw.

Footsteps. “Sam...”

The spell was broken. Sam regained the use of his body once again and started crawling backwards, trying desperately to put distance between them. Knowing deep down that if the hellhound had jumped fifteen feet in one second there was no chance he could get away in time. He watched in horror as the dog prepared to pounce on him –

(No, damn it! He had promised. He had assured Dean it would be okay!)

– only to violently crash against an invisible wall.

Sam left out the breath he had been holding, finally noticing the low flames surrounding the demonic dog.

“It worked, Dean! We were right, it worked!” He hoped his slightly hysterical chuckle was drowned by Cerberus’ increasingly angry howls as it collided again and again with the barrier.

“Of course it did,” Dean grumbled, kneeling just behind him. “A devil’s trap in holy oil has to be the mother of all devil’s traps.”

Sam snorted, but when he looked at his brother he could see his own deep relief reflected in Dean’s face.

“Weren’t you supposed to wait behind the pillar?”

“Well, that monster was supposed to walk into the trap, not try to hop it.”

Dean passed a hand through his hair, and Sam noted it was trembling faintly. But before he could say anything, there was a sudden drop in the temperature.

“I wish I had possessed this knowledge when I was alive,” the king said, eyes fixed on his nemesis. “It certainly would have proved useful.”

Cerberus growled, producing a full set of menacing teeth. But as the ghost approached, the dog drew back as far as its burning cage allowed, whimpering softly. Ten feet from the monster the ghost stopped, and Sam would swear he flickered for a moment.

“Does it hurt?”

“I can’t feel pain but it’s not... pleasant. It definitely hurts it, though.” The ghost grinned. “It hadn’t let me come this close since the night I died. Isn’t that right, my dear pet?”

The hellhound barked, looking at the king with hate filled eyes.

“Well, this little family reunion deserves something special, so why don’t we open the presents?” Dean took the bag from behind the altar.

Cerberus eyed the bundle suspiciously. The ghost nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered, looking at both of them in turn.

Sam gave him a brittle smile. He understood sacrifice. Heck, he would happily submit his neck to the axe if it would make up for the mistakes he had made (if only it were that easy). But it was still kind of sad.

The king entered the circle. Dean opened the bag.

Cerberus went crazy.

It was like there was only one entity inside the trap. Some kind of grotesque centaur. The hellhound started screeching and howling in pain, running in circles and twisting its heads trying to bite the shape protruding from its back. But the ghost was obviously immune and the dog’s jaws only closed around thin air.

Suddenly, the beast stopped moving, raised its head and let out a long, high-pitched howl, so deafening the brothers had to cover their ears. There were a few blessed seconds of silence and then... a loud thunder.

From below.

The floor started shaking so much Sam thought (wished) for a moment that it was an earthquake. But he knew it wasn’t. It was something way worse.

Cerberus was trying to open the Hell’s Mouth.

“Dean! Hurry up, damn it!”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Dean yelled, trying to keep upright and salt the bones at the same time.

Sam had to hold onto a pillar in order not to fall and watched in horror as large cracks started appearing all along the floor. A fiery light came through them, dying the room in red, and he looked mesmerized to the one that ran just between his feet. Because inside the cracks you could see it. You could see Hell.

“Dean! ”

“Coming!” The smell of gasoline filled Sam’s nostrils. There was a spark of light and he looked up just in time to see Philip II burst into flames around the beast that was writhing and twisting in the throes of death, until it finally collapsed with a loud whine.

The trembling stopped. The room went dark.

“Dean?”

“Here.”

Sam blinked, needing a few moments for his eyes to get used again to the absence of light, and saw his brother making his way towards him.

“It’s over, then,” Dean said arriving by his side.

It probably had been barely a couple of minutes since the moment the king had entered the devil’s trap, but it sure had felt like hours.

“It seems so.” Sam looked at the unmoving shape lying in the middle of the room. After the whole fuss it was kind of... anticlimactic. “What do we do with it? We can’t leave the body here.”

“Standard procedure.” Dean shrugged. “Let’s burn the son of a bitch.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah.”

Dean walked towards the corpse, lighter and gasoline in hand, while Sam took a few moments to look at the now scorched remains of Philip II. It was strange, but Sam could swear that for a moment he had seen the ghost smile before disappearing in flames.

“Dean.” He raised his head. “Do you think...?” The words died in his throat.

His brother was behind Cerberus, happily pouring the gasoline over the body. Completely oblivious to the fact that the eyes of one of the heads were open and completely alert.

Sam made a strangled sound, trying send out a warning, but it was too late. Dean had half a second to look confused before a gigantic paw hit him square in the chest and sent him flying across the room to land in a heap on the floor.

Panting and trembling, the hellhound rose to its feet. It was badly hurt and clearly weakened, with two of its head hanging limply at its sides. But it was still very much alive.

“Dean, are you okay? Can you hear me?” His brother wasn’t moving, and the dog was eyeing him, obviously not so keen of making the mistake of ignoring Dean this time around, and Sam was about to go into full-on panic mode. If the beast decided to attack his brother there was just no way Sam could reach him in time. Cerberus was going to kill them both and then use his cursed blood to recover and open that fucking passage. Sam would come back, Lucifer would make sure of it, but this time, instead of waking in his brother’s warm arms, it would be to his cold, dead body.

He closed his eyes. A cold wave washed over him. Sweeping all traces of fear and worry in its wake and leaving only bristling anger.

No.

“Don’t you dare, you motherfucker. Don’t even think about it,” he hissed.

He was done playing the victim and being used like a puppet. Done allowing others to pull his strings and make decisions for him. Done letting his brother down and putting him in danger. He was fucking done. He wasn’t going to let Philip’s sacrifice go to waste, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to allow a stupid dog touch a single hair on Dean’s head, let alone kill him.

Sam set his jaw, tightened his fist around the demon-killing knife and made a long cut along his left palm, letting his blood fall freely. As if pushed by a string, the hellhound’s eyes locked on the small red puddle on the floor.

“That’s it. This is what you really want, isn’t it?” Cerberus swallowed and smacked its lips, taking a small step forward. “A few drops and you are already a fucking addict, huh?” Sam grinned. “I know exactly how you feel.”

He rubbed his hands against his face, staining it red. The dog let out a deep growl and finally looked him in the eyes.

“Yeah, I’m your miracle worker. My brother is not of use to you. Come and get your fix.”

Just like the last time, Cerberus jumped. And maybe it was because of its weakened state or because of the strange calmness that had overtaken Sam’s body and mind, but he could see it like it was advancing in slow motion. He dodged right, grabbed the knife with both hands and stabbed the beast in its side with all his strength. They both fell to the floor, Sam lying half over the body of the beast, pinning it down with the knife while the monster howled in pain and tried to shake him off.

There was a faint groan from other side of the room. “Sammy? What the...?”

Something unclenched in Sam’s chest. A ball of worry he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge unravelled and disappeared. But he didn’t have time to rejoice or reply.

This had to end now.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas...”

A red circle appeared around Cerberus, and the hellhound redoubled his efforts to break free, fighting violently and twisting to bite him. Sweat appeared on Sam’s brow from the effort of holding on to the beast.

“...omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica...”

The black dog convulsed and Sam clenched his teeth. His arms were on fire and he realized with a chill that his hold on the knife was starting to become slippery. Smoke started rising and he choked. He feared he wasn’t going to make it, but the thought had barely formed in his brain when a pair of calloused hands closed over his and a familiar deep voice took over.

“Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam securi...”

Sam looked up, not quite surprised to see Dean nodding at him. He nodded back and both brothers joined their words to finish the spell.

“…te rogamus, audi nos!”

There was a last pathetic whine and finally the demonic watchdog sank through the solid marble like it was made of quicksand, disappearing like it had never been there at all.

And it was over. For real this time.

Sam let go of the knife and dropped onto his back, breathing deeply. But not three seconds had passed when Dean was over him, frantically searching for any wounds.

“Dean! Dean, it’s okay!” He showed him his palm. “It’s only my hand, see?”

Dean grabbed his hand and examined it closely before ripping off part of his shirt and using it a make-shift bandage, grumbling under his breath something about reckless little brothers and stupid ideas. Sam watched him, then glanced at the spot where Cerberus had disappeared, and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Dean frowned. “Do you care to share?”

Sam shook his head.

“No it’s just that... it’s kind of ironic, don’t you think? All the careful planning and the mess afterwards” he signalled around, “just to end it all with an everyday exorcism.”

“Yeah, hilarious,” Dean deadpanned.

Sam sobered up, his elation fading as he thought about Philip’s useless sacrifice. If they had exorcised the hellhound in the beginning, maybe the ghost could have passed on peacefully.

“We don’t know if it would have worked,” Dean said quietly and Sam looked up at him, surprised his brother has apparently read his mind. “Iron and salt weren’t even one bit in it’s radar before, so maybe it was the whole bond-breaking thingy that made it vulnerable to the exorcism.”

“Guess we’ll never know for sure.” Sam shrugged.

“So,” Dean finished tying the bandage and sat back. “What were you going to ask me?”

“What?”

Dean huffed in exasperation, like it was obvious what he meant and Sam should be able to follow all his mental leaps. “Before Cerberus’ revival tour you were going to ask me something. What was it?”

“Oh. That was...” Sam passed his good hand through his hair, a little embarrassed. “It’s stupid but I was just going to ask you if you think salted spirits can go to Heaven.”

Dean didn’t answer immediately; it looked like he was actually giving the question some thought. “Well, I hadn’t thought about it before, but you know?” He smirked. “If there is a ghost strong-headed enough to make it into Heaven, that’s our Philip.”

Sam felt a small burden lift off his chest. Like his brother saying it out loud would made it true. And who knew? Maybe it was.

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” He smiled softly.

Dean stood up and held out his hand. “Let’s get out of here. As comfy as this place is, I think my frozen ass will appreciate spending the rest of the night in an actual bed.”

Sam snorted and let himself be pulled up. Then he looked around, taking into account the pitiful state of the room. “And I wouldn’t want to face the cleaning lady in the morning.”

They walked through the corridors in comfortable silence, but when they opened the door leading to the gardens, Dean took a look at the unforgiving clouded sky and cursed under his breath.

“Damn it, it’s still raining. It was supposed to have stopped by now.”

“Supposed?”

“Of course. The whole thunder and rain storm mood made sense before, but now it should have cleared so we could start our triumphal walk into the sunrise. Or into the night. Or whatever.”

Sam blinked. “Dude, you watch way too many bad horror movies.”

“It was you who brought me to an ancient haunted castle. I’m only sticking to the consensus.”

Shaking his head in amusement, Sam stepped out and started running through the rain towards the outer wall, his big brother’s footsteps right behind him.

No need to think yet about what tomorrow would bring. Or take away.

* * *

When Sam woke up, even before opening his eyes, he knew Dean wasn’t in the room anymore. He knew it because his heart was beating outside his body, because his back was covered in cold sweat and because there was a scream lodged in his throat. He knew it because all that hadn’t happened a couple of hours ago, when he had opened an eye to see his brother snoring peacefully and had simply rolled over and fallen asleep again.

He covered his face with trembling hands and took a deep shaky, breath, letting the images and words fading into the recesses of his mind. After two nights (well, almost two nights) he had to conclude that somehow his brother’s presence managed to keep his dreams at bay but he wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Maybe he felt subconsciously safer when he was with his brother and Lucifer had a harder time getting to him.

Or maybe he had gone certifiably crazy and was actually making the whole stalking thing up.

Yeah, right. Sam snorted. In his dreams (literally).

He slowly opened his eyes and looked around the room. When he spotted his brother’s duffel bag on the floor by the rumpled bed, he exhaled in relief. He knew that Dean wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye – all signs pointed that his brother didn’t intent to cut him off again – but he couldn’t completely squash the irrational fear at the back of his mind.

The clock of the wall told him it was nearly ten (being close to his brother was giving him a serious oversleeping problem) and he absently wondered how long Dean had been gone. A bitter, twisted part of his brain tried to convince him that Dean had gone downstairs to pack, but to be fair, chances were that his brother had simply gone to pick up breakfast. Besides, Dean had flat-out refused to set foot in his own room for nearly two days, so all his belongings were probably already here.

Well, no use in waiting idly around; Sam might as well do some research in the meantime. He still had a lot to learn about the next destination on his list. Getting out of bed, he switched on his laptop, ready to lose himself in facts and data for a while.

The door clicked open. “You really are a geek.” Dean grinned from the threshold, shaking his head. “I leave you sleeping peacefully and the moment I turn my back you’re glued to that computer. I should have hauled your ass out of bed before I left.”

Sam felt his own mouth twitching. “You should have.” After all he had been sleeping peacefully until Dean had gone. “Is that breakfast?”

“Yep.”

Dean forced a paper cup into his hand. And Sam looked at it in surprise.

“Starbucks?”

“I passed by one and I thought you might want one of those disgustingly frilly beverages that try to pass for coffee. And at least the waiters speak English there.”

Sam felt something flutter in his stomach. He knew for a fact that the closest Starbucks was situated at least twenty minutes from their motel, so there was no way Dean had found it by chance. When he took a sip the drink was only lukewarm, bearing witness of the long walk from the shop, and it had maybe a little too much cinnamon.

It was still the best coffee he’d ever had.

“By the way, you won’t believe the things people are saying out there. The hunt is all over the news!”

“What? Did they get our faces?” Sam could swear there weren’t security cameras in the castle, but if he was wrong, it was going to be a lot more difficult to leave the country. At least for him, since he didn’t have an angel to rely on and had to smuggle himself into a plane somehow.

“Woah! Don’t get your panties in a twist. Nothing like that.” Dean raised his arms in a calming gesture. “Police believes that it was a satanic cult that held a dark ritual in there.”

“Huh. Dean, there was a dark ritual held in there. The candles and human remains are kind of a giveaway, even for civilians.” They hadn’t even bothered to try to clean and cover their marks – after all, how could you fix a broken marble tomb and the gigantic cracks in the floor?

“Yeah, but dude, everybody has got it backwards and now they are making weird shit up! There are a lot of nutters around the castle trying to pick up demonic energy, and even the barista swore he had seen the black dog this morning!”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, he was lying. He looked at me funny when I asked how many heads it had.”

Sam rubbed his face, but couldn’t help a soft snort. Dean was right, it was crazy but damn amusing. He took another sip and side-eyed his computer. “By the way, Dean, when do you intend to call Castiel?”

Dean shrugged. “As soon as the room is cleared. I can’t wait to get out of here.”

It was like a cold shower. Sam chocked and started coughing. Dean came to his side and started patting his back.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” he asked after the fit subsided.

“Ye–yes. I just... I thought...” What? What had he thought? That Dean would decide to stay a little longer just for the pleasure of his company? That they would hang out for a while? Obviously Dean had way more important things to do than waste any more time catering to the whims of his little brother. Sam really couldn’t ask for more that he had already been given. It was time to man-up and face the music. “I just thought I had more time to book my flight.”

“Your flight?” Dean’s brow furrowed.

“Yeah, I know I should have probably booked it already, but it just slipped my mind. I’m not sure I’ll be able to find something I can afford for today, though. So I’ll probably have to stay here for another night, or a couple more. At least you don’t have to worry about the room, I’ll cancel yours when I go down to renew mine.” He knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You can call Castiel right away, if you want. It'll be good to see him, even just for a few minutes.”

“Sam, you’re not making any sense. What are you talking about? What flight?”

“To Turkmenistan.”

“Turme-what?”

“It’s the next place on my list,” Sam pointed vaguely towards the files on his desk.

Dean turned and blinked. A confused look on his face. “Wait, you...” he struggled to find the words. “You think I’m going with Cas and leaving you here? To set off god-knows-where?”

Sam shrugged. The answer was pretty obvious. “We both have things to do.”

Dean scowled. “You better think again, then!” he bit out. “I don’t know what crazy ideas you’ve got in that skull of yours, but I’m not going anywhere. Not without you!”

Sam leaned against the wall, thoughts scrambled by the sudden flare of hope slamming into him like a punch. But even with his eyes closed he could still feel the waves of anger radiating from his brother, he could hear the tension in his voice. The flare was gone as fast as it had come.

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Yes, Dean. You are.”

His brother had always taken his responsibilities seriously, put them over his personal feelings and needs. And Sam knew that. He had always know how strongly their father had ingrained in Dean’s mind the need to take care of his little brother. Sam had always relied on it. Taken advantage of it.

Not this time. It wouldn’t be fair. Not for Dean, not for the world.

Sam had to stop being such a damn egoist.

“What the hell, Sam?” Dean’s forehead was creased, his hands clenched into fists. “I come all the way here and now you...”

Sam raised his arm in a calming gesture. “Dean, listen to me. Maybe I’ve haven’t acted like it, but you know I’m really grateful you came, don’t you? If it weren’t for you I would... well, I wouldn’t be dead, obviously, but I would have probably opened the passage instead of closing it for good.” he took a deep breath. “I’ve learned my lesson, though, so you don’t need to be here anymore.”

“I don’t need to?” Dean’s eyes blazed. He grabbed Sam shirt and tugged him roughly around. “You mean you want me to go? You want me to leave you alone? Is that what you’re saying?”

Sam felt wound up, too tight inside his own skin. Like his whole body was rebelling against him, screaming to take on Dean’s offer. But he couldn’t. Everything that had gone over that conversation at the picnic table still stood. Dean didn’t trust him. And sure as hell Sam didn’t trust himself either.

“I’m just saying you were right, Dean,” he said in a small, wrecked voice. “We are better apart.”

Dean winced and let go of Sam’s shirt like he’d burned his hand. Sam concentrated on trying to pull air through his closing throat. He could feel his eyes prickling dangerously and he clenched his teeth to prevent anything from falling.

“You’re trying to convince me we are better apart?” Dean stepped away, a stricken look on his face. “Goddamn it. Of all the fucking things you could decide to agree with me...”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam croaked. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I– I won’t bother you, of course, but I’ll make sure to keep the mobile charged in case you want to check on me again. I’ll even connect the voicemail again. I’m fine, Dean, it’s fine.” He tried to smile but he could feel it cracking on the edges. “You can go now.”

There was a growing dark stain spreading on the carpet, and Sam realized with a pang he had dropped the coffee.

“This is such a fucking mess,” Dean muttered, rubbing his face tiredly. “I thought things were getting better, but you’ve been thinking that the whole time, haven’t you?”

Sam couldn’t meet his eyes. Didn’t want to.

“Fair enough.” Dean sighed. “I guess it’s my fault for not saying anything before.”

“Dean, I understand. You don’t need to...” Sam started to object but his brother turned his gaze on him.

“No, Sam. You don’t understand. And if you need me to fucking spell it for you, so be it.” Dean grabbed his brother’s face and pressed his forehead against Sam’s. “I didn’t come here to check on you, I came here for you. I came to bring you back with me, and not only because there’s nobody else I’d prefer to watch my back, but because I want you by my side. Because you’re my brother, my family. Because I need you.”

Sam tried to swallow. His throat felt twice its normal size. “But you said...”

“No matter what I said, Sammy. I was wrong. I was utterly wrong. And I'm sorry I took so long to come around.”

Sam averted his gaze. There was turmoil inside him and he just couldn’t put his thoughts into order. Dean was saying everything he’d wanted to hear, everything he thought he didn’t deserve. And he wanted to just give in. He wanted to believe his brother so much it hurt. And yet...

“I– I don’t... I can’t... this is not over yet.” Sam stumbled to the desktop, picking one of the folders and showing it to Dean, using it like a barrier between them. “See? You– you have your mission and I still have to find those gates and...”

His brother closed in on him again. “No, you don’t,” he said softly. “You know as well as I do that this is only an excuse.”

Dean took the folder from his trembling hands, placing it on the desktop with gentle finality. Sam hadn’t even realized he was shaking until that moment.

“It’s not an excuse,” he complained, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. “If I close the gates we will–”

“Be honest with me, how many gates do you think you can find?”

“I found one.”

“Yes, and that’s awesome. But it was also too much of a close call. Do you really believe you can find all the gates hidden all around the world? Do you really think you could close them all?”

Sam looked down; the list with the places that he had to visit had slipped from the folder and fallen to his feet. For weeks that list had been his safe place, his only purpose to keep on going. He had wanted to feel useful again, to stop himself from thinking about what he was leaving behind. Which, yeah, it hadn’t been very successful. But his stomach still wanted to turn inside out at the thought of giving it up and saying it was hopeless. It was like admitting defeat.

“I don’t know what to do. I–”

Dean must have seen the conflict reflected on Sam’s face, because he took another step forward and put his hands on his arms (and seriously, there had been more physical contact between them the last couple of days than the last couple of years, not that Sam was complaining), all but embracing him. “Hey, hey, look at me. Did you hear a word of what I said? You are not going to do anything because this is an us. And if what you really want is to go to that Turme-thing or wherever, we’ll do that. But we’ll do it together.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’d come with me?”

Dean huffed. “Of course, that part’s not optional.”

“But you think this whole search is bullshit.”

“I do. But if that’s what it takes, well, I’m up for it.” Dean gave a vague shrug. “So? Where do you want to go? The world is our playground!”

Dean was still holding him, and Sam felt a little dizzy, not quite sure he would be standing if it weren’t for his brother’s grip. He closed his eyes for a second and felt something slowly unclench inside his chest.

He was pretty sure it was his heart.

“I dropped the coffee,” he said, almost randomly.

Dean smirked. “I noticed. Next time you’re buying.”

And that was it. Something slotted into place inside Sam and suddenly an overwhelming wave of naked relief spread all over him. He realized he could finally let go, because his brother would be there to catch him.

His brother was here to stay.

Sam smiled slowly. “Let’s go back then. You like American coffee better anyway.”

Dean let out a small gasp of surprise and made a strange face, caught between hopeful and disbelieving. It made him look younger and vulnerable and just for a moment Sam thought his brother was going to hug him again. But after some struggle Dean schooled his features and just patted him on the chest.

“Way better than tar,” he grinned.

Epilogue

Masterpost