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Chapter Text

Dean Smith had kept his head down, made his parents proud, and pursued academic education purely from the perspective of the best potential job security. He was also into physical health and pursued both avenues; accounting and finance as well as a personal trainer certification and physiotherapist training.

These choices at first landed him jobs that were one or the other until the opportunity at Mount Baker High in the Pacific NorthWest came up. He grabbed it by the horns. It was through a few calculated connections, charming and talking to people, which was a skill Dean became very good at over the years, that he ended up in this position that he loved very much. All of that despite being an introverted person at heart. He could pretend, do it scared, and fake it til you make it with the best of them. He also wore his heart on his sleeve and was in general a very caring person. He was a strict phys ed teacher, who wanted the kids both to thrive and learn to enjoy exercise and movement for what it was; a perfect compliment to a scholarly education that worked the brain magnificently.

He had met John Winchester the school’s principal at a teacher conference about half a decade ago. Even back then they’d connected and John felt like Dean would make a good addition to the faculty. However, back then, Dean was convinced he’d hate the wet and cold of that region of the USA. The weather didn’t seem as big a factor when he realized that he was flirting with a complete burn-out after 10 years as a corporate finance manager. A job where the money and flirty office colleagues both male and female were plentiful but the work itself made him miserable. He came to realize that he missed the helping people part, the physical to balance the mental.

Long story short he’d been happily employed as a unique employee reporting to John Winchester and wearing three different hats; school administrator, treasurer, and phys ed teacher. He was the only person on staff who was both admin and teaching staff and he absolutely loved coming to work. His routines and habits were like clockwork. His eating habits were as perfect as he could keep them, his green juice game could compete with that of high-profile actresses in LA and he loved things a certain way. The one-level bungalow that he lived in was not far from the school but far enough to not constantly run into students or parents, faced a green belt. It was neat and tidy and devoid of clutter at all times. Many a date had told him that it looked like a show home and while he thought that was a compliment, he recognized it for the double-edged statement of dislike that it truly had been. If the words themselves were not clear enough the serial lack of a 2nd or 3rd date spoke much louder than any words.

Loneliness and lack of a social life outside of his Toastmasters club on Wednesday nights and his volunteer hours at the animal shelter on Saturdays; Dean Smith’s life was what one would call mundane and almost boring. He had convinced himself long ago that he liked it that way.

***

It was a crisp late summer morning, last week of August where the daytime temperatures still promised summer fun but the dawn and twilight brought cooler temperatures with them. This prompted Dean to wear his trusted gray windbreaker with a pragmatic hood and inner fleece layer that could be removed for seasonal changes. It also had flaps to cover all zippers to truly keep him dry when it rained and kept his pristine dress shirt and slacks underneath in perfect condition. His attire was a residual habit from his corporate career; business casual i.e. a pair of slacks in either slate gray or black plus a range of perfectly fitting dress shirts in Dean Smith’s understanding of rainbow colors; light blue, tiny black checkered pattern on white, pure white, black and slate gray. He did own a select few pairs of denim in dark wash and each pair in perfect repair except for one that was a faded blue with some rips that he kept for a very particular purpose.

On that beautiful morning when Dean pulled up to the school building, he found a pompously geared-up motorcycle in his assigned parking spot. The frustration that boiled up in him had him grip the steering wheel of his Toyota Prius tightly. He ground his teeth at the audacity of whoever owned such a showy bike and parked it in his assigned-by-name parking spot. He pulled cleanly into the closest free-for-all spot. His car’s front and rear wheels perfectly aligned with the white line that separated the parking spots. No bother, he thought to himself, surely he could talk to whoever owned the outrageous vehicle and clear the matter up in no time. He had seniority after all over whoever this usurper of legitimately earned parking privileges was.

He was greeted with enthusiasm by all of his students and staff, happily greeting them in return while he relished in the sense of belonging. The familiarity as he walked through the front doors and down the hallway was grounding for him. When he entered John’s office for their usual Monday morning recap and huddle before the new school week his breath caught at the back of his throat as he took in the tall, very tall glass of water who pulled up to his full height. He had been bent down looking over John’s shoulder at the computer monitor in front of them. If Dean didn’t know any better he’d say they looked caught in the act and sure enough, he had his suspicions confirmed. John not only flipped the laptop closed, but he also swiftly moved a very old, very used notebook, its pages bulging with haphazardly inserted images and drawings, into the top drawer and promptly locked it.

“Morning Dean, how was the weekend?”

“Good, plenty of er…” Dean hesitated, desperately wanting to look interesting in front of the hottest guy he’d ever seen within the walls of the school. His hesitation turned into saliva going the wrong way and him going red with a coughing fit trying to recover from it.

“Whoa hey, you okay?” Tall Glass was beside him in much fewer steps than it would take Dean to cover the same distance. Then there was a hand between his shoulder blades as more calming words rolled off the stranger’s tongue in a comforting baritone voice. Dean also got a whiff of the protective leather pants the guy was wearing and a very masculine woodsy scent mixed in when he was this close. He also noticed the navy blue t-shirt that was doing its very best to contain the muscled, broad-shouldered torso it was wrapped around.

“Yeah.” Dean knew he sounded like a chain smoker with a sore throat just then but tried his best to seem convincing about being okay. “Yeah… thanks I’m good. Dean…. Dean Smith, and you are?”

“Really Dad, you didn’t tell him?”

“Why, would I?”

“I’m going to be working with everyone and you didn’t let your highest performer, treasurer, administrator, and [phys ed teacher know?”

“How did you?” Dean was utterly confused about how the handsome guy knew exactly what he did at Mount Baker.

“Sam Winchester; new math, history, and English teacher and this forgetful old man’s son. Nice to meet you, Dean Smith.”

“Pleasure.” Dean just barely could contain the blush that threatened to heat up the bridge of his nose at the acceptable but decidedly uncool way he reacted to Sam’s introduction. “John forgot to mention that we’d get a new faculty member, whose paperwork I should have had on my desk at least a week ago. Could you follow me to my office so we can get you set up?”

“Yes, boss,” Sam answered with a mock salute and followed Dean down the hall to his office.

Sam Winchester turned out to be a very interesting person, pre-law at Stanford when he was in his 20s but never completed college then. Only to recently catch up on his academics and go the route of mathematics, science, and history along with a minor in Latin.

“Interesting subjects to pick for studies, not many people bridge the gap between something like history and language to mathematics and science. That’s impressive. Why the Latin though, out of all the languages of the world? ”

“Thank you. Latin is the basis of all Roman languages. It seemed like a great idea at the time. The way I see it we are rather similar, can’t say I have ever met a school administrator and treasurer who was also the phys ed teacher. Not to mention the very best coach the school's football team has ever seen.”

Dean was surprised yet again and he didn’t really like surprises. He had categorized Winchester as a grade-A jock with no redeeming qualities other than his smoking hot appearance. Clearly, he was wrong in his assessment once more and this time he did blush at the compliment, which brought out a dimpled smile on Sam’s face that could light up an entire room.

***

After the initial new guy excitement had died down, things returned to normal at Mount Baker. The summer weather only stuck around a few days here and there until the nip of autumn filtered into the air. Dean would see Sam around nearly every day but conversation between them was limited to idle chit-chat. It wasn’t for lack of wanting to talk more on Dean’s part but he just was not an initiator. He could hype up a group of high schoolers and coach them to winning regionals, crunch numbers, and make the budget work within legal parameters and still get everything that the school may need to operate. Talking to the man he was slowly and most definitely crushing on a little more each day, not so much.

***

It was a Friday in early October when Sam asked if Dean would step in for his back-to-back English classes at the last minute. He was being cagey about why and Dean was not happy about it. Not only would the students get sub-par lessons taught by him on account of having had no time to prep, but he didn’t appreciate being put in that situation. Student success and helping them thrive was everything to Dean and he wasn’t shy about letting Sam know that.

“Fine, but what’s in it for me?” he asked hands on his hips as he looked up at Sam in a spontaneous bout of backbone and bravery.

“Erm…I’ll take you for a ride on my motorcycle and buy you lunch?” Sam said, without hesitation and Dean was pleased at the offer made but of course, had to ruin it.

“And dessert.” Dean blurbed out, immediately blushing red-hot as his mind went to a type of dessert looking at Sam that was decidedly not made of baking ingredients.

“And dessert Mr. Smith, your wish is my command.” Sam winked at him, handed him his lesson plans, and sprinted out of the building. The revving of the motorcycle pulled Dean out of the daydream stupor he’d fallen into driven by self-deprecation.

***

Dean got a call from the shelter later that day with Donna on the line explaining that Garth hadn’t shown up due to being sick. There was a wild black dog downtown scaring the life out of pedestrians and if he would go out and take care of it together with Benny. Dean smiled when he heard the Cajun man’s name, he and Benny met through the shelter and while nothing was going on between them on account of Benny’s on-off relationship with a fiery Greek heiress called Andrea, he wasn’t entirely sure that Benny wasn’t flirting with him. But the drama that he got to hear about from Benny made him want to stay far away from anything more than a friendship with the man. He made quick work of putting on his one ripped pair of denim jeans and the shelter-branded t-shirt before slipping on his sneakers and walking out the door.

***

Equipped with restraining poles, tranquilizer shots, and a tranquilizer gun that Benny was certified for, they drove the shelter-branded cargo van downtown. The last report had come from the bar district and it was easy to spot just where something was going on. The police had cordoned off an entire city block around a cul-de-sac back alley that ran behind some of the most popular and very busy clubs in town. The lighting conditions were less than favorable in the pot-hole-ridden backstreet. Despite the commercial dumpsters, it was littered with abandoned bags of garbage, debris, and construction materials from a site nearby but blissfully devoid of people. If there was a dog in there it would have about a hundred different places it could hide in and a good number of them such that would allow it to attack either Benny or Dean by surprise.

They picked up the low growl almost instantly but neither of them could see the animal. Yet they were both certain which way to go and where to find the elusive canine. Dean had the restraining pole ready while Benny had his tranq gun pointed forward scanning the alley side to side. The low growl turned into an ear-splitting roar just seconds before a massive black dog with red-fiery eyes, that glowed from within, jumped out at them both. It toppled Benny over with its weight and momentum causing him to crash sideways into one of the metal dumpsters. He hit his temple which had him go down heavily onto the dirty ground, unconscious.

Dean couldn’t spare a moment on Benny though, the massive animal turned and stalked toward him clearly not thinking of Dean in the least as some sort of threat. Large or not Dean knew Donna needed this job done and he wasn’t going to let her down. He rushed forward with the loop of the rod poised to wrap around the black hound’s neck just as the animal pounced. He had never seen a dog or any four-legged creature move with quite as much power and speed from a standing position. He could feel its claws ripping into his shoulders, cold talons awash in hot blood, within seconds before the animals’ jaws came at him and bit down on his shoulder. It only missed the front of his throat because Dean pushed himself out of the way. The bite, while not fatal, was the most agonizing thing Dean had ever experienced. He could feel the cool dirty puddle he’d stumbled into seeping through the back of his jacket, while the crazy dog pinned him to the ground. Normally, this would freak him out but he was dazed and found that he didn’t care much about anything just then. In fact, going down for a little nap sounded like the best thing ever right now. He could see and hear an almost feral human roar well before he saw a head of floppy hair and a set of wild hazel eyes appear above the dark fur of the mutt that still had a good hold on him. Was that Sam?

He felt the jaws of the dog loosen and pull off of him, its incisors rending a bit of his flesh when Sam, his math teacher co-worker dragged the thing off of him. Dean watched stunned, as he slammed it on the ground beside him, held it down by its neck while straddling it to keep it pinned between his legs, and held his hand out at it like a Jedi knight using the force. Except he wasn’t speaking some alien language he was reciting a short phrase in Latin, his eyes going pitch black and the dog devolved into embers the colors of a roaring campfire before it disintegrated into a pile of ash and disappeared altogether.

Dean’s shocked green eyes kept looking at the spot where moments ago a massive animal had been. Now there was nothing but Sam still kneeling with his hand out. He looked over at Dean, eyes as dark as the night-time sky, an animalistic snarl to his lip before he caught himself and those eyes turned back to hazel with a more human expression returning to his handsome face. He couldn’t move, even if he wanted to, his body felt like lead as if welded to the ground. His head was turned to the side, stubbled cheek on the dirty asphalt, too much effort to move it, even when Sam left his field of vision.

“Dean, hey talk to me, man. Stay awake, can you do that for me, huh? That stray dog got you pretty bad, we’re gonna get you help okay? Dean? Hey, hey, hey…” This was the last Dean heard, the fading baritone of Sam’s voice slowly filling with panic, why, Dean didn’t know. He was too tired, too exhausted to stay awake and he let his body drag him under.

***
When Dean woke, the first thing he noticed was all-encompassing pain everywhere in his body. Before he even opened his eyes or took in the scents of the place he found himself in, he heard pained grunts and moans, only latently realizing they were his own.

“Dean, can you open your eyes?” The voice was unexpected and Dean pinched his forehead in confusion as he tried to make sense of where he was and what had happened. Peeling his eyelids open was a struggle but he needed the visual input, needed to confirm who he thought he heard talk to him. “Atta boy,” followed shortly thereafter accompanied by the smiling face of none other than John Winchester, who sat on a rickety plastic-moulded chair with screwed-on metal legs beside Dean’s bed.

“Where am I? I… where’s Sam?”

“Out grabbing more first aid materials and some food.”

“Why are you here and…,” Dean tried to push himself up on his hands and elbows to get a better look around the room he was in. Burning pain racing through both of his shoulders and the base of his neck swiftly made him abandon that effort. “Ouch… fuck that hurts… are we in a motel room?”

“Bingo! Yes, it’s a motel room downtown, we figured it best not to move you too far so we could tend to your injuries immediately. The dog that attacked you got you pretty good. It was lucky that Sam and I were out on the town for a drink when it happened.”

“It… no that was no dog… and Sam… he…”, Dean didn’t get a chance to finish his train of thought when Sam walked in looking like a disheveled lumberjack in his utilitarian blue jeans, gray suede work boots, and a navy blue undershirt. Over top, he wore the most awful plaid flannel overshirt Dean had ever seen, kept in shades of dark and light blue as well as stripes of taxi-yellow intermingled.

“You’re awake, how’re you feeling?” Sam sat down beside Dean’s hip on the bed with far too much familiarity that Dean was comfortable with. He had to admit though, that the body heat that bled through the thin blanket, where Sam touched him, felt wonderful.

“Like someone used me as a punching bag and took a few bites out of me. Sam what was that thing and you… your eyes.” Sam’s eyebrows shot up as soon as Dean uttered those last two words before he seemingly caught himself, looking nervously at his dad who sat behind him and refocused on Dean. “I’ll explain everything in time, for now, we need to get you fed, change the bandages again, and suture up the smaller scratches still.”

“Why the fuck did you not take me to a hospital?! What is wrong with you?!” Dean knew there was something going down between Sam and his dad but right now what he needed were painkillers, a too-narrow hospital bed with sheets that were stiffer than any of his work shirts no matter how hard he tried ironing them, and nurses that would bring him a meal on a plastic tray with an equally plastic cover that protected luke-warm boring and bland hospital food. He didn’t want to be stuck with his boss and his dog-fighting weirdo son in a motel room.

“In fact, I’m going to go to the hospital right now if it’s all the same to you because last I checked, and I say this with all due respect, John you’re a school principal and you’re math teacher and neither of you are trained EMTs.”

“Please Dean, I promise I’ll…”

“I don’t wanna hear it, I want to be in a hospital room right now being taken care of by medical professionals.” Dean managed to stand, his adrenaline that quickly flooded his system easing the pain into bearable dullness. He took a few steps and saw his personal belongings on a dresser near the bed. What gave him pause was the wastebasket beside his bed which was filled to the brim with bloodied gauze and tissues. The materials were completely soaked in blood and Dean was never good at seeing blood. “Is this?”

“Yeah it is, we went through quite a bit of first aid material to fix you up.”

“I’m gonna…,” Dean folded, the sight of his own blood and the copious amounts of it made him nauseous at the best of times, but he’d never been quite this injured before so he crumpled to the ground like a puppet that had its strings cut.

Coming around for the second time was just as painful as the first. This time with the added benefit of an aching knee from where he had crash-landed on it when he passed out.

“I caught you before you hit your head on the bedside table and the floor, you’re welcome,” Sam offered hesitantly.

“If you had taken me to the bloody hospital you wouldn’t have had to catch me at all because I’d have what I need.”

Sam was alone in the room with Dean and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that but eventually, he settled on relieved because having your boss see you like this wasn’t exactly comfortable.

“Dean, would you let me explain, please? I realize you are freaking out right now and that all this must be very strange to you.”

Dean glared at him, being talked to like a skittish animal or someone who needed coddling never went over well with him. He didn’t know why but he never wanted to appear weak to others and sure as hell not in front of Sam.

“I’m not made of glass, you know? How about you spit out what you have to say already.”

“First of all, what do you remember, no need for me to retell what you know.”

“I…,” The visual of Sam’s eyes flashing a glossy black for that split second and that feral near inhumane snarl on his face coupled with the rabid energy with which he dealt with the dog replayed behind Dean’s eyes. Yeah, the word dog alone did not do justice to how sinister and dark that animal and Sam himself had seemed to Dean. He couldn't put his finger on what was different about it exactly though it disintegrating into nothingness also didn’t make any sense because that was impossible, wasn't it? “I remember the stray canine attacking Benny, knocking him out and then it turned toward me and pounced on me, digging its claws and then its jaws into me. The rest after that is all a bit blurry but I believe thanks are in order as I do remember seeing your face appear behind the dog while it used me as a chew toy. What was that thing? It certainly wasn’t a breed of dog I’ve ever seen before.”

Dean observed Sam closely, always having had a knack for reading people, even without them actually saying any words. Sam’s shoulders lowered a fraction, that pinched look in his forehead gave way to smoother skin and the tension in his jaw slackened all within the span of seconds. He hadn’t looked outwardly stressed before but Dean knew that he had been, the awkward eye contact with his dad still fresh in Dean’s mind.

“Look, there is no way to explain this without sounding a little crazy because that was not a normal dog the way you know your neighbor’s pooch or a German Shepherd K-9 unit from the police. This was a Hellhound, that’s why it disintegrated and disappeared. In the end, I sent it back to Hell.” Dean watched Sam attentively now, waiting for the punch line, for the up-turn of the corners of his lips that would indicate that he was pulling Dean’s leg with an admittedly fucked-up idea of a joke. There were no tells at all to indicate that this was anything but serious.

“Oh right and the devil’s your uncle?” Dean replied, surely Sam was just messing with him. However, his eyes narrowed a bit and darkened as he regarded Dean with what looked like complete ease. Somewhat impatient and wanting Dean to get with the program it seemed. “You’re actually serious?”

“Deadly,” Sam responded and there was a smirk there which did nothing to devalue the gravity of his previous statement.

“Hellhound, as in a demonic dog from Hell? With Hell being biblical in meaning, which goes to say that Heaven exists also?”

“Yes, that is correct, Hellhounds are the guard dogs of Hell. They also come top-side to collect the souls of those who have made deals with demons. So, if one of them was downtown, it must have been there for a reason. The ruler of Hell, Lucifer is dead, killed by his own brother Archangel Michael from a different universe. The current ruler of Hell is Rowena McLeod, formerly human and a formidable witch.”

“You sound like you’re friends, the way you talk about her.”

“Very close friends in fact, she helped me out a lot over the years. She also stopped the practice of having crossroads demons which is why a Hellhound being topside is a problem; it should not be happening. She generally has her entire demon army and all creatures in her realm on a short leash since she took over.”

“So why would it be walking around a back alley here in town? Why would it go after Benny and me?”

“I’m not sure it was after Benny, knocking him out of the way like I saw it do and how it left him unharmed means it wasn’t after him. The way it attacked you, on the other hand, brings forward many more questions. Unless you have made a demon deal at some point it should have just left you alone but it was out for the kill and we need to figure out why.”

Dean waited Sam out, wanting to see what he’d say next or if he’d address, what Dean was starting to think had been a figment of his imagination, but Sam didn’t continue. Clearly as well-versed in pregnant silences as Dean had learned to be during his academic and corporate phase in life.

“So how did you kill the Hellhound?”

“I stabbed it with this. It’s a special blade, disintegrates demons and sends them back to Hell.” Sam handed him the glinting sharp-looking blade. It was edged with what looked like runes to Dean and had a weathered wooden handle.

“Huh… mighty handy to have such a weapon.” Again Sam didn’t take him up on the hint to continue talking and Dean decided it was time for him to go home. If Sam was going to keep him in the dark and constantly at arm’s length, there was clearly more about this. Whatever it was, was clearly questionable enough for Sam and his boss to think that he didn’t need to be in the know about it.

“I’m going to head home, I’d rather be in my own space to heal up and I want to check up on Benny.” Sam reacted with a pinched look to that request, clearly not happy but also aware that he couldn’t really keep Dean here.

“It would be safer if you stayed here and would not be alone. We have no idea if they’ll send another Hellhound after you.”

“Well then tell me how to fight them and I can take care of myself.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yeah, it’s not.”

Dean very slowly rose from the bed, he was in a lot of pain and called himself a cab to the motel they were at, perusing the motel stationary to type in the address. Sam didn’t say much but implored him to call if he needed anything, and that he would be checking in on Dean in the morning.

Just 24 hours ago, Dean’s smile would have been bright and happy at the knowledge of Sam doing a wellness check on him but as it was he didn’t know what to think. He also had a grand total of zero people he could talk to about this. He was really eager to chat with Benny though. He was hopeful that his friend hadn’t been unconscious the entire time and could corroborate what he’d seen; black eyes on Sam.

***

Benny was fine and when Dean asked him what kind of dog it was he answered black-coat Alaskan malamute without any hesitation. Dean knew there was no point pressing the issue with him. Clearly, the man had either dissociated from the event or truly believed it had been a dog like that. Either way, he wasn’t going to stress him out by suggesting otherwise or describing the glossy black eyes of his co-worker, and let’s not forget life-saver Sam Winchester. Benny said he only regained consciousness in the ambulance.

Great so Benny got the normal medical treatment and Dean got some front-line wannabe first aid from his boss and his weird, kinda creepy and yes still smoking hot son.

***

When Sam came by the following morning, they had coffee and a very stilted conversation until after 10 minutes he finally left. Dean could do a deep dive into all things Sam Winchester after that. To say the search was anticlimactic was an understatement, at least at first. When he did an image search of Sam, things became more interesting and even more confusing than they were before.

***

Dean found himself looking over his shoulder more often than not, after the event, despite always having been very aware of his surroundings. In time, routine and work had a way of normalizing things after a few days.

Sam had been a regular visitor at his place, helping him redress the wounds that he couldn’t reach himself and bringing coffees or take-out for them. Dean had quickly realized that going to a doctor’s office or a clinic would involve explaining how he got hurt in the first place and lying wasn’t exactly a forte of his. Plus, he kind of enjoyed the far too calloused fingertips, for a math teacher, on his shoulders and back when Sam carefully cleansed and rebandaged everything. There was no funny business of any kind as Dean kept his distance. He didn’t want to give Sam any wrong signals despite wondering what it would feel like to have those same fingers and muscled arms hug him tight or card through his hair lovingly. Sam, he noticed, was equally distant and touched him only as much as was required. Another one that would never be, Dean lamented to himself.

***

It was Thursday afternoon the following week when Sam cornered Dean in the staff lunch room. Cornered was perhaps a bit dramatic but the guy made the plastic molded chairs look like kid’s furniture once settled on one backward with his long legs at a sharper angle than 90 degrees nearly bumping the underside of the table. He didn’t have lunch with him but declined when Dean offered some of his.

“Look Dean, I don’t want to drag you into all this but I’m afraid I don’t really have a choice.” Sam looked around before he continued to ensure nobody was within earshot. “John, my dad and I used to hunt supernatural things. He stopped probably about 2 or 3 years before you met him and I retired from it five years ago. But this situation needs action to resolve and the friend whom I asked for help insists on meeting you at her place.”

“And visiting some friend’s house is a problem because…? ”

“Her house is Hell, literally, you may remember her, Rowena Queen of Hell. She won’t help unless she can meet you and ideally take a DNA sample of you.”

“Well, as long as that’s all we’re doing; transcending through to the depths of Hell and some Hell Queen wants a lock of my hair?”

“Really? You’re actually okay with this?”

“Fuck no Sam! I’m far from okay with this! You are stark raving mad and you still haven’t told me what’s up with your black eyes and now you’re asking me to go to Hell… to Hell… literally!!!” Dean pushed explosively back from the table, the chair he’d been sitting in clattering to the floor as he backed up and away from Sam. His shoulders hit the drywall while his voice rose in volume and got thinner at the same time. His heartbeat picked up and his breath got flatter when he found anger and utter terror fighting one another within him. He had to fight himself hard to not simply run out the door, move to Cali, and never look back.

“Lower your voice Dean… hey… hey… hey… calm down, breathe with me… in... and… out… in… and… out, repeat, come on, do it.” Dean felt the warmth of Sam’s palms where they sat on his shoulders while concerned HAZEL eyes held his gaze. Sam’s face was projecting calmness, despite the crazy prospect of a visit to Hell.

“Look, I promise, I’ll explain the eye thing but not here, not where my father could walk in any second. Care to go for a stroll?”

“It’s raining.”

“I got umbrellas, come on.” Sam rolled his eyes at Dean and grabbed him by the upper arm, not tightly but supportively as if making sure his legs weren’t gonna give out on him. Turns out he knew Dean’s body better than he did himself as he promptly stumbled over his own two feet seconds later.

***

The school grounds during lunchtime were busy in front of the building but the backyard, where the sports fields were, was blessedly quiet. The building was surrounded by a small forested park with trails that connected the school grounds to residential areas beyond and had a small 1km perimeter trail in the center.

“When I was 6 months old, I only know this from my dad telling me, a demon came to collect on a debt owed by my mother. Azazel, the demon, burned her on the ceiling of my nursery after giving me some of his blood. My father ran into the room, cradled me up, and ran from the burning house.”

“I’m sorry for your loss that is terrible and really hard to wrap my head around.”

“Please let me get the whole story out before you make your judgment. If you still want nothing to do with this then fine, I will not bother you again.”

Dean nodded, a sign for Sam to go on.

“Ever since then, I have been on the road with my father while he was tracking that son of a bitch who killed her. My life was spent on the road, jumping from school to school never really getting out of being the new kid. When I was old enough for college I bailed on my dad for Stanford, I thought I had it made, left the hunting life behind, full ride guaranteed and a gorgeous girlfriend named Jess. But the demon got to her too. My dad was checking in on me while I was at university but didn’t always tell me he was there. I know it sounds kinda creepy but back then our family wasn’t as functional as the two of us are today. So that night he had visited and we had had dinner with him, Jess and me. He left shortly after but noticed that the clocks had all stopped; a demonic omen. He returned to campus following a gut feeling as he put it and that night Jess burned on the ceiling like my mom had.

I left Stanford then the same fire for revenge in my belly as my dad and never looked back. Over time my powers began to manifest, I had visions of things to come and how people would die. It led me to find others like me, who had been fed demon blood as a baby. It all came to a head as Azazel sicced us on each other in a battle to the death in Stull Cemetery, Kansas. These other kids, and we truly were kids barely in our 20s, were normal people, people who had no idea how to fight someone. Jake was the exception, we got along at first but he attacked me. I killed him in self-defense. Managed to hear the scuff of his boot on the ground, just in time, before he tried to stab me fatally in the back. My dad made it there together with Bobby, a close family friend of ours, and watched me land the killing blow. After explaining what was going on we left together. However, I ditched them once we were closing in on the demon though. Wanted to finish this whole thing off by myself. It wasn't my dad’s battle anymore. The army that demon was building, I was supposed to be its leader. But my dad is a stubborn son of a bitch and tracked me down. He ended up shooting Azazel dead with a colt that can kill nearly everything in existence.”

“So if the demon died then wouldn’t your powers die with him?”

“I thought so too but the powers stuck around but faded. The visions returned to being occasional nightmares and I dealt by calling in anonymous tips to the local PD to prevent the deaths from happening until the visions stopped altogether. Four years on from that I worked with a demon called Ruby and she… er… god this is awkward to tell someone who’s new to all this. She made me drink her blood so we could defeat Lilith and prevent the devil from rising. Drinking the blood reignited my powers, no visions anymore but the ability to decimate any demon where they stood, simply with the power of my mind. She had tricked me because killing Lilith was the last broken seal needed to set Lucifer free, not to keep him caged.

I stopped the demon blood after that, my dad and his friend Bobby, rest his soul, helped me detox. They both thought I was back to normal after that but the powers never left, it’s like it’s part of my DNA the ability to kill demons without the need for more demon blood. A funny anecdote about this is that whenever I needed to give a blood sample they’d find traces of sulfur in my blood that far exceed normal levels. Yellow sulphuric powder residue is a surefire sign that a demon has been around or aspects of a demon embedded in me. These days when my powers are activated, I enter a sort of altered state, my eyes turn black like a demon’s, and my emotions kind of take a backseat. It’s like someone who is in a stressful situation who becomes hyper-focused on whatever needs doing and they just do it. Does that make sense? When that Hellhound had you pinned and was about to kill you, saving you was my solitary focus at that moment at whatever cost.”

“So, you were and are hiding something that wasn’t your fault in the first place? Something that helps you save people and banish demons and other Hell creatures back to where they belong and you saved my life and others’?”

“That’s not how many people saw it over the years. Especially not other hunters of the supernatural. I became hunted in our community, some tried to force-feed me blood to make me their attack dog. There’s even an angel who called me the boy with the demon blood and the words abomination were used by many people over the years. I don’t exactly advertise that side of me.” The look of hurt and sadness in the strong lines of Sam’s face touched Dean deeply. Based on what he’d told him so far, the man had lost a lot more than any human ever should. More than anyone should suffer through during an entire lifetime. Yet here he was, a decent human being, still trying to help others.

“How does your dad not know?”

“He’s been out of hunting for a long time and for the last few years we parted ways. I was a man of my own choosing and for the longest time, he continued to see me as the little boy. He had raised as best he could, after losing the love of his life; my mother. But it wasn’t working anymore the sharing of motel rooms. Ultimately a bad thing led to the best thing in his life. He got injured on a hunt, and that injury not only made him meet his partner Ellen who he is still with today but also prompted him to hang up the mantle of being a hunter for good. I’m glad it did, to be honest, because it made me follow in his footsteps not long after.”

“Alright, when do we visit Rowena?”

Sam looked at him quizzically at first, as if to gauge the integrity of Dean’s statement, but then a small smile graced his lips. Not a single person had ever reacted like Dean just did to being told the truth. Sam felt seen and heard more so than he ever had in anyone else’s presence. It was a fluttery feeling in his stomach and something he wasn’t sure what to do with. He handled the situation as best he could and said,

“I know it’s not exactly the motorcycle ride and lunch date I promised but it’ll be a hell of a date.”

“Oh, you think this is a date now? Sure glad someone told me.”

Sam groveled momentarily before Dean couldn’t keep a straight face anymore and made finger guns at him in a clear gotcha gesture. He really did owe the guy a proper date after all this, provided they made it out the other side in one piece.

“The way all that sounds like to me is that you’re a guy with a lot of experiences that were difficult and traumatic. Yet, you managed to leave it behind, and this whole Hellhound business is just a kink in the curve of the normal life you built for yourself. So, the sooner we get to it the sooner we can get back to normal, right?”

“Your pragmatism is astonishing, Dean. It really is.”

They switched to lighter topics for the rest of their stroll and made it back inside the school building just as the bell rang for the first period of the afternoon.

Chapter Text

They finished their respective workdays and met up at the parking lot after school was out. Dean was leaning against the hood of his car lost in thought and perfectly on time, unlike Sam.

“I know it’s not a lunch date and I can’t guarantee there will be dessert at my dad’s place but I could give you that ride I promised you?” Sam held the spare helmet out to Dean. The one he always had in his office at the school, smiling at him encouragingly.

Dean acted like he needed to think about it for about all of 5 seconds before he agreed enthusiastically.

“Seriously, I’m excited to have you as my backpack.” Sam’s smile turned up the wattage while Dean looked at him confused.

“Your what?”

“My backpack. It’s a term of endearment for having someone riding on my bike with me, behind my back. It’s biker terminology.”

“Okay, Winchester I’ll be your backpack but no crazy stuff just there and back when we’re done tonight, alright?”

“Scouts honor,” Sam swore with a mock pinky swear and a wink.

“Were you even ever a boy scout?”

“Nah,” Sam shrugged and put his helmet on over a chuckling face.

Dean followed suit and climbed onto the motorcycle. He’d been eyeballing it since day one but now that he was on it, arms wrapped around Sam’s torso, the smell of his leather jacket hitting his nostrils he was equally excited and terrified.

“You good?”

Dean gave him a thumbs up around the side of Sam’s helmet so he could see it through the visor and held on tight, which made Sam grunt. “I promise you’re safe Dean, I’ve been riding this bike for a very long time.”

Dean nodded against the broad back he was smushed up against and off they went. Dean yipped and howled in excitement once they reached full speed on the country road that led to John’s place. It felt like a rollercoaster but infinitely better.

***

John and Ellen had been close friends of Dean’s for a long time but the way he greeted him tonight almost felt familiar with how he pulled him in for as tight a hug as he did Sam. Ellen wasn’t there as she worked graveyard shifts at the local hospital as a nurse. Dean wasn’t very close with his own parents, they were not the most emotionally available types, whereas Dean was wired differently even if he rarely showed that side to anyone.

Sam had set the appointment with Rowena for the following evening that way they had the entire weekend if needed, not wanting to affect their students negatively. Dean was curious how one made appointments with the ruler of Hell, surely she wasn’t on WhatsApp or Discord.

They had dinner together and spoke of a number of different things. It blew Dean’s mind how much Sam actually cared about his students, genuinely wanting them to learn, thrive, and become humans in their own right who could navigate the world capably. The thought of arranging a meeting with the Queen of Hell around a faculty timetable made Dean chuckle.

***

After some time to digest the delicious food John himself had cooked up, they went out back of the house. Sam had been talking about training Dean off and on for a while now but never specified just what he meant exactly.

John had a large dirt patch outside and an entire room set aside for sparring and working out in the basement. It wasn’t until now that Dean realized how ripped his boss actually was underneath the unassuming sweater vest, shirt, and tie combos he loved to wear at work. Clearly, Sam had inherited that physique and a few extra inches in width and height on top of it.

They all dressed down to shorts and t-shirts, went out back and the two Winchesters simply asked him to go for it. Dean had his fair share of martial arts training, had taken to the disciplined nature of karate since he was 4 years old. Despite not having practiced for quite some time, his muscle memory came back easily. Thing was, hunters fight dirty, their movements may not be elegant or coordinated but it was a matter of seconds every single time for John or Sam to have him pinned to the mat, an imaginary blade or weapon pointed at a life-threatening point on his body. First, had been him pinned face down, arm twisted on his back. The second time he ended up on his knees, back against Sam’s legs who yanked his head back tightly by the hair while mimicking sliding a blade across the front of his neck, and each subsequent attempt ended in a variation of these two end-positions.

John left him and Sam alone after some time to go and clean up the kitchen.

“You’ve got some decent moves Smith but remember monsters will not fight clean. They will take advantage of every weakness you show them.”

“Tell me why again we are going to Hell tomorrow and not in a week from now? I’d love more time to get better.”

“There is a reason why that Hellhound went after you. Rowena is the key to figuring out why, who sent it, and if another one is going to follow in its tracks. One thing we do know is that it wasn’t her. All her canines are accounted for. As a visitor to the Queen of Hell, you will not be harmed being in Hell but there are creatures down there that have gone mad with the torture bestowed upon them. It’s simply prudent to make sure you know how to handle yourself in a hand-to-hand combat situation but it’s not exactly like rescheduling a work meeting, you know. Okay come at me again and make it dirty Smith.” Sam deliberately rolled the Rs and gave Dean a Matrix-style come-here flick with his fingertips, his tone almost flirty but surely Dean was imagining that.

“I’ll give you dirty Winchester,” Dean growled out.

“That’s what he said,” before Sam could even think so much about cracking a grin at his terrible joke, Dean was on him. He full-tilt bowled him over like a football player would on the offensive; shoulder to the mid-section, landing Sam flat on his back and Dean on top of him. He felt Dean’s thigh slip between his pushing down hard and by god if that didn’t make his cock twitch.

The faculty treasurer who looked all put together and was really a good person at heart had him down to rights, arm horizontally across his throat, one hand pinned against Sam’s torso by his hefty lean thighs, while Dean’s other hand pinned Sam’s wrist in the dirt beside his head. Their faces were a few inches apart and he could see the fire in Dean’s eyes with a smidge of pride. “What am I going to do with you huh big monster hunter?” Dean teased as he looked down at Sam looming above him in victory, biting his lower lip, a challenging cheeky smile on his face.

“Ready to turn it up a notch?”

“What do you have in mind?”

Sam closed his eyes and let his demonic powers surge to the surface, could feel the power race through his body head-to-toe, every cell alight with it before he zeroed his inky gaze in on Dean. He roared up at Dean and jumpscared him, enough for his hold to be momentarily loosened and his focus distracted. Sam bit down hard on Dean’s arm which made him pull it away from his throat and by extension had him lift up some of his body weight. This allowed Sam to turn the tide, he yanked his pinned wrist free and grabbed Dean’s throat to pull him down and over to his side, which freed his other wrist and allowed him to manhandle him until he was beneath him.

Dean was grasping at Sam’s arm, the hand felt like a steel clamp around his throat and his long lean thighs bracketed his hips. “Now get free, come on Dean.”

He tried, he really did but what made him incapable of escape was on one hand what appeared to be superhuman strength flowing through Sam at that moment and the moan that kept trying to escape because of how turned on he was. All he wanted to do was grind up into Sam’s pelvis that pinned his cock, unfortunately, pointing in the wrong direction beneath him. “Ugh…,” finally escaped and Sam’s eyes instantly went back to normal, clearly worried that he’d hurt Dean somehow. Having interpreted the sound as one of pain.

“You okay Dean?”

“Yeah… hkm… fine.” How could he possibly tell his co-worker and Greek God personified that he was ridiculously aroused from being manhandled by him? All while he had him pinned down during a training session that was quite literally for the sake of Dean being able to stay alive? Sam would never take him seriously again if he cracked a joke now, so he stayed quiet.

“Okay, okay, let’s start at square one.” Sam stood and offered Dean a hand up, which he took gratefully. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to keep his budding erection a secret if they went again though. Fortunately, John saved him just in time with a call for them to come inside for a last run-through of the plan for the next day. They did some more training with weapons afterward and Dean took up John’s offer to spend the night in one of his guest bedrooms, excited to be able to ride to work with Sam the next day.

***

The looks, whistles, and way-to-go-Mr. Smith exclamations he got were disconcerting. It would seem that he wasn’t as covert about his heart-eyes for Sam as he thought he was being. Sam even held the door open for him and lent him a clean shirt for the day as Dean hadn’t brought any extra. Despite being freshly laundered, Dean kept getting whiffs of Sam’s aftershave every so often and he wondered idly if Sam would notice if he never gave it back.

He did insist they stop over at his place before heading back to John’s after work that day. He wanted to bring provisions, some equipment, and a spare set of clothes for the weekend. Just in case this went on for longer than just one evening. He deliberately left Sam’s shirt on his bed.

Sam never said a thing about it and into literal Hell they went that evening.

The long dark viaduct across pools of lava was intimidating. Sam and Dean walked toward the majestic looming castle in blistering heat. The place where Rowena took court and welcomed visitors to Hell such as the two of them.

They were greeted by a pair of glossy black-eyed demons in just leather pants that looked like they were part of the Magic Mike movie cast in Hell. They guided them through a maze of stairs and doors Dean figured he’d not have a chance in Hell of finding his way through on his own. Sam, however, seemed to follow them with ease and familiarity which gave him some comfort.

“Ay, you must be Dean Smith, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Rowena walked right up to Dean and cupped his cheek, many inches shorter than him and a fiery slender redhead. She was about as far from how Dean envisioned her looking as can be. “I heard that thought Mr. Smith, don’t let the package fool you.”

Rowena was an inch away from his face within a split second, floating her way forward and her eyes a fiery mix of swirling reds, oranges, and purples as she grasped him by the throat and lifted him clean off the ground. Dean couldn’t breathe, gripping her petite limb with both of his hands that could easily wrap around it with his fingers and thumb touching. He may as well have been trying to unbuckle a steel clamp around his neck for all the difference his efforts made.

“Rowena, be nice darlin’”, Dean heard Sam’s teasing and soothing voice and she did in fact let him go. He tumbled down onto the hard obsidian rock the ground was made up of. Sitting there slightly dizzy, he watched Rowena link arms with Sam far too touchy for Dean’s liking and kept walking. Dean realized as much as he was terrified of the woman he wanted to be in Hell without them even less and followed the pair.

Sam handed over a sample of the ash from the Hellhound that had attacked Dean and without him having even noticed, Rowena had already collected the DNA sample that Sam had told Dean she would want.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist Dean, we are on the same side. If Sammy here says I am not to harm you then that is a fact. You have the full protection of me and all powers at my disposal.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Tsk tsk… that was my son when he ran Hell…. call me Queen of Hell or Rowena will do just fine my dear lad.”

“Thank you, Rowena.”

“Hah… quick study, that will keep you alive down here my dear.”

Sam and Rowena settled around a table full of various parchment rolls, books, and notes arranged in neat piles. They didn’t ask Dean to join them so he took the opportunity to look around. He could hear Rowena’s voice in his head telling him not to touch anything and he looked at her shocked only for her to respond telepathically that yes she could read his mind and talk to him like this.

He strained hard to listen in on their conversation but they spoke in hushed tones and the few fragments he did hear, did not make sense to him because he lacked context. He still wasn’t entirely sure he even wanted to know what was going on here. This continued on for a good 20 minutes, Dean had long abandoned looking about the place in favor of sitting in the empty chair beside them at the table.

“You know Sam if you wanted me to help train him up in the ways of a hunter and magic-use you could leave him with me for a few days.” Dean looked at her in shock and back at Sam, who actually seemed to be considering it.

“Excuse me I’m not some pawn for you to lend out to the Queen of Hell.”

“Oh dear boy I’d be able to show you things you can’t even imagine… ever gone to fifth base with anyone, perhaps with Sammy here? I can tell there is something going on between you two, though I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“There is no such thing as fifth base and I’m not a boy I’m a…” his conviction fizzled out when he realized how silly that sentence sounded whether he completed it or not.

Rowena burst out laughing then. “I’m just teasin’, no friend of Sam Winchester will ever come to harm, playful or otherwise at my hand. That I assure you of.” Dean knew she meant every word, as much as he now grasped her sense of humor just that much more than a few seconds ago.

“The Hellhound was guided by a spell cast by an inhabitant of Hell but not Hell in this world. Its origin is a world over if you will. I can trace the path the pup took to get topside and where it entered Hell but the reasons why I can’t fathom. Given how it attacked you, Dean, it seems to have been tasked with killing you in particular. This is however peculiar because you have no relations or involvement in hunting the supernatural. I wonder if the spell was misguided or perhaps used in the wrong realm. Perhaps Dean in the other world is a hunter.”

“That’s just great, there I go living a cookie-cutter life and then some ruler of Hell in a world not our own is after me somehow. Also, what do you mean by another world?”

“Dean, big-boy pants time, you are connected to all of this somehow. Sam and I will get to the root of this but you gotta try and keep a cool head. And I am not tooting our own horn when I say that he and I are your best defense against this.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Ay, you’re right on that one. Our reality, our Earth is one of many that exist alongside each other, each separate and generally not interacting with one another. It seems there may be a rift between where that Hellhound came from and our world.”

Dean mulled all that over and didn’t say much more. It was a lot to take in so he let his thoughts go down the rabbit hole while Rowena continued explaining the spell she was about to do.

***

They watched her finish up the tracing spell to visualize the path the Hellhound took, purple luminescent paw prints appeared when they started their trek accompanied by a protective group of guard demons. The journey to find the entry point of the Hellhound from another reality.

“Hell is a vast realm and has many levels. Without knowing where this takes us, bringing protection is key.”

The three of them walked, flanked by 6 Arthener demons, stemming from the deepest levels of Hell where its inhabitants no longer possess the capability of speech, human or otherwise, and were feral and animalistic. The only entity that could control their actions through telepathy was the present ruler of Hell. They were incapable of being influenced by others and had an elemental level of strength that could cause earthquakes on the earthly plane if they released their powers too close to the surface in higher levels of Hell. Unfortunately, where they were traveling that was not an issue at all, much to Dean’s dismay. A couple of times Sam had to prompt him to keep moving. He was glad for Sam’s soothing palm between his shoulder blades for the past two miles no matter how awkward walking like that was. The touch kept Dean grounded.

When they rounded the next corner which looked like the foothill of a tall obsidian cliff that had arteries of glowing yellow brimstones running through it, they found the spot. Rowena held out her hand palm facing toward them, bidding them to stop walking, without a word. Dean watched her close her eyes but wasn’t sure what she was doing.

Sam whispered to him that she was sending herself spiritually to investigate the glimmery, shimmery car-sized appearance on the cliff wall just about a hundred feet and slightly further down from them. Two demons that looked like Rowena’s Artheners but weren’t quite the same guarded whatever it was.

In their minds, she informed them that the portal was presently closed but the barrier was very thin and that the sentinels guarding it were not her own. They looked similar to her guards but in her mind's eye, they were like blank spaces that didn’t belong in her Hell. The person across the veil was you Sam, but you’re not steering the boat, your soul seems to be present but Lucifer is at the wheel.

Dean watched Sam carefully as Rowena’s messages came through to both of them. He saw fear flit across his face for just a split second at the mention of Lucifer’s name; a clench of his jaw and a wide-eyed look that he’d not seen before. On one hand, he wanted to know more of Sam’s story but the first big chunks he had been gifted with were so much to absorb already. He wasn’t ready for more, that much he knew.

“He's coming towards us!” Dean yelped out when one of the sentinels suddenly started walking in their direction. Sam clamped his hand across Dean’s mouth, pulled him against his chest, and dove behind the cliff outcropping to get them both out of sight. Dean could scent the salt and sweat off of Sam’s palm, his hands grasping at Sam’s arm which was nearly as unmoving as Rowena’s had been. Sam’s body heat at his back was comforting as he tried to regulate his breathing while they crouched low to the ground with Dean bracketed between Sam’s legs.

He watched with wide eyes as that one sentinel came around the bend and was immediately circled by Rowena’s protective detail. He could see a silent conversation take place for 5 minutes before the scary-looking beast returned to its position at, what Dean presumed, was the portal. It was a bipedal creature with all-black skin, two dark glossy slitted eyes, wide nostrils, and a wide maw with sharp fang-like teeth and stood well over eight feet tall, nearly double the height of Rowena.

Rowena moved closer to them now and with Dean still handgagged into silence she explained in their minds, Never speak out loud in the presence of sentinels that aren’t mine, they hear everything, no matter how quiet you make your voice. That is why Sam grabbed you like this and pulled you out of sight. Nod your head if you understand.

Dean mouthed a silent thank you against Sam’s palm. He was thanking Sam for gagging him and manhandling him. Granted it was to save his life but still the situation caused a flush to rise in his cheeks which was blissfully obscured by the low light levels of Hell.

Rowena smirked at him and turned away once she’d gotten a nod from him. She connected her hands to the shoulder of one of her sentinel Arthener demons and it seemed like another inaudible conversation was taking place.

***

Back in the same room as before, which seemed to be as close to a boardroom as someone like Rowena would have, the three of them reconvened to debrief.

“What did it tell you?”

“They were images that it gave me, not words. Move in closer lads, I’ll share with the class.”

Dean copied Sam who moved his chair closer so he was within an arm’s length of Rowena. She cupped the side of their heads with each of her palms and the influx of imagery was convoluted at first. Not unlike a massive image dump from your cell phone to your computer. Once he got used to the sensation of being given someone else’s memories, which was what he recognized them as he was able to make sense of them. There were lots of images of Sam but not quite Sam as he knew him. He was younger but looking worn out, wearing a white suit, his hair a bit shorter, clean-shaven, and eyes that held more than just him somehow. Though Dean couldn’t put his finger on why he thought that. There was a visual of a Dean too with some blue-eyed guy with dark brown hair. It was but a split-second image before he and blue eyes zapped out of existence as if they’d gone invisible.

“With demons such as sentinels any present rulers of Hell communicate telepathically. We share images, memories, and visuals. The imagery I got from this other-worldly sentinel was all that it deemed relevant to its mission that caused it to be stationed on this side of the portal. Now we need to puzzle together what it means.”

“I saw a version of me with a brown-haired guy with blue eyes. He wore a beige trenchcoat and the memory was us running away from who was watching and then we kind of disappeared from existence.”

Sam pulled out his cell phone and showed Dean a picture. “Did the blue-eyed man look like this?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s him.”

“Damnit and you saw yourself, you’re certain?”

“Definitely, would know my face anywhere, you know kinda know it intimately. You were there too, but not really you, off somehow.” Dean chuckled, feeling oddly embarrassed at being questioned about whether or not he saw himself for sure or not.

“Lucifer was controlling Sam,” Rowena added to what Dean had said, about Sam.

“He was. I could feel it in my bones, saw a glimmer of my soul shine through in one of the images. Seems that the version of me in that world said yes to Lucifer for whatever insane reason. What I don’t get is why are you there Dean and why are you with Castiel? He pretty much turned his back on me ever since the powers of Azazel started taking shape, haven’t seen him in years.” Sam explained.

“Cas... who? Never heard of the guy.”

“Angel, not a guy. He’s an angel in a human vessel, seraph level, who ditched us after dragging me out of Hell half-cocked, took my dad making a deal with Death to get my soul back.”

“I didn’t understand anything you just said, beyond Castiel being an angel in a human… What did you call it? A Vessel?”

“It’s a term they use when an angel comes to earth. They require a meatsuit, a vessel… a human body to get around. They can only ride your bones with your explicit consent.”

“Why would anyone say yes to that?”

“Extenuating circumstances and the blind faith of religious and devout people.”

“Oh, so you think that you, in that other world, gave consent to Lucifer possessing you… I mean, him since he’s not actually you?”

“Exactly and if that’s the case parallel me is riding shotgun in his own body without any authority over his faculties or physical actions. We have to get him out of there, not just seal the portal. I know what that’s like and I don’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

“Not our world Sam, far too much risk to take, we have to keep Lucifer out. You and I both know what happens when he is set free.” Dean could read the fear in Rowena’s voice loud and clear and that was saying something because he figured someone like her wasn’t exactly afraid of much of anything.

“Rowena, please, the least we have to do is get Lucifer out of him. I can’t leave him like that.”

“There are many worlds out there Sam, are you gonna save every single one?”

“No, of course not, but how can I in good conscience leave him like that? An angel puppet for the rest of his life and beyond? Also what of Dean that’s over there, he’s likely warded that’s why in Dean’s image he received from the sentinel was one where they disappeared into thin air. What if that Dean is on the run for whatever reason?”

Dean was with Rowena and tried his best to reason with Sam. “Sam I think, and I by no means have a full understanding here, shouldn’t we focus on the bigger picture? I can tell Lucifer scares both of you. It’s written all over your faces how much God’s fallen angel affects you. Why risk him coming here to save a parallel version of us that we don’t really know anything about?”

“Because that’s what I do Dean, I save people that don’t have anyone else to save them. Most people in this world go through life in blissful ignorance of all this shit that goes down all the time. Much less so since Chuck was eliminated but I can’t let this go, can’t let another Winchester die regardless of the world they are in.”

“Another Winchester?”

“I had a half-brother called Adam, he and I jumped into Hell together, he was Michael’s true vessel. He was restored and revived when Jack took over upstairs, which I realize means nothing to you. He could never get over the loss of Michael and killed himself shortly after being back on earth. I should have had his back, I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

Dean had so many questions, who or what was Jack, and was Sam talking about archangel Michael? He wasn't a religious man but he had made a point of reading the bible when he was a teenager for no other reason than to be able to argue and discuss with those who did believe either too much or not at all.

Rowena rubbed a gentle palm down Sam’s back while he spoke and tears created kaleidoscopic patterns in his hazel eyes which he promptly rubbed with harsh knuckles. Clearly not okay with showing this much emotion in front of others.

“Please help me with this Rowena. As for you Dean, look, I know I have no right to ask you to help with this. All I wanted to do was take you to lunch and have you ride my motorcycle with me not drag you into the hunting life.”

“You’ve got my help Sam, the bank account of favors between the two of us is the wealthiest in the world, let’s get to it, Winchester.” Rowena agreed, albeit a little hesitatingly.

“I know my life is meaningless and boring in comparison to what either of you has done for humanity and the world at large. Hell, no pun intended, I ran away when being a pen pusher became too much but I want to help. I have no idea how but I’ll do my best.”

Sam gave him a sad little smile at that and the three of them put their heads together to come up with a plan.

***

The basics of the plan came together in a matter of hours but the details of it were largely in Rowena’s hands with some aspects delegated to Sam, John, and Dean. It would take a few days to organize.

Sam and Dean returned topside to fill in John on what their plan was and how they would all be involved in this. Ellen wasn’t exactly impressed with them doing it but also understood why they were doing it in the end. She wouldn’t partake in the excursion to Hell but would be ready with whatever first aid they may need afterward.

The mission consisted of three core elements: an extraction spell, Enochian portal wards, and a portal closure spell.

Their intent was to seal the rift to the other world permanently using a mix of demonic and Enochian magic. They would execute the spell for this with a ward in place that kept all angelic grace from passing through the portal, even archangel-level grace. Plus any grace that touched the wards on the other side would be kept restrained to the realm of Hell in perpetuity while being slowly deconstructed over time by demonic magic.

Sam and Rowena knew just how much chaos and destruction Lucifer could cause when released into the world even without a vessel. They hoped that by binding Lucifer’s grace, they could help that world. A Lucifer kept in Hell was better than one roaming free. The warding portion of the plan did require angelic grace to put in place which was Sam’s job to obtain in the days leading up to the big plan. The portal-closing magic would be enacted simultaneously with another spell.

The portal-closing spell would be cast by Sam. He was a competent magic-user himself and was personally tutored in doing so by Rowena. It was the extraction and locator spell that would transport Sam and Dean from the other world through to their side. When Sam came through, Lucifer’s grace would be stripped by the warding and leave a disembodied Lucifer on the other side and an entirely human Sam Winchester to cross over to them.

Rowena had warned Sam that the Sam Winchester who had been Lucifer’s vessel for how long they weren’t sure, may not survive the removal of grace. Sam was well aware of what she meant. However, if Sam over there was in any way like him, he would be grateful to be able to die completely human.

His dad listened attentively when Sam and Dean explained everything to him, they were all sitting around John’s kitchen table. Dean mostly listened and contributed here and there, when he felt it could help.

John didn’t say anything for a few seconds before a huge smile broke out on his face, “This is the most harebrained yet well-thought-out plan I’ve ever heard son and I love it. When do we start?”

***

A sudden outbreak of measles among faculty staff took care of their scholastic obligations and freed them up for a solid week to carry out all the prep work. This, among other things, included the gathering of items for the spells and warding themselves.

Dean was excited that he would get to meet a real-life angel because surely that would have to be an in-person meeting. Only to find himself disappointed to find out that the seraph not only showed when they were all asleep but simply left a grace-loaded artifact with Sam one night while they were at John’s place. Sam had been praying to Castiel and explained what they were up against. The artifact was a beautiful white-gray crystal slightly larger than could fit comfortably in Sam’s palm and had five shards of varying sizes shooting off from a solid base. When held against a light source the power within was visible in muted swirling traces as the light source was refracted throughout the entire thing.

Sam explained that it was filled with archangel grace which would suffice to ward the portal entrance point and give more power to their spells overall. The instructions and what the artifact involved came to Sam in his dreams. It was clear that Sam wasn’t on the best of terms with the angels in this reality and Dean for the millionth time had many questions on the tip of his tongue. However, he’d have time to ask them once all of this was over, not wanting to bring up a sore subject.

Chapter Text

A few busy days later the entire group found themselves back at that spot in the lowest levels of Hell. Their task force, as only Dean called it in the privacy of his mind, consisted of Rowena, 10 of her Arthener sentinel demons, Sam, John, Dean, and three higher-level demons that were magic-wielders in their own right. Ellen was ready at home with a suped-up first aid setup.

The three higher-level demons regarded John, Sam, and Dean like they were the most delightful all-you-can-eat-buffet on legs until Rowena told them to drop it and that the three of them were off the table now and forever under her guard. Their behavior changed immediately and now Dean felt safer than he ever had.

The knowledge that every single one of these beings could pulverize him but wouldn’t gave him a sense of security that he never thought he’d get his head around to accepting. Yet, here he was feeling a sincere amount of confidence in the mission they were on.

Sam and John had done their hunter best to teach him the basics about demons and how to navigate Hell should he get separated from them. They also elaborated on the whole archangel vessel thing and Dean learned that Sam himself was the intended vessel of Lucifer in this world. Fortunately, he was no longer a threat having been dispatched to the Empty, where angels go after death, by none other than his brother Michael. Dean had always wished he had a younger brother but another child just hadn’t been in the cards for his parents. Hearing about the spat between the angel brothers made him sort of happy to be an only child.

A glamor spell executed by the higher-level demons of Rowena’s court took care of Lucifer’s sentinels and put them to sleep until roused by the same magic that put them down. The spell also ensured that if Lucifer were to look through the portal he’d still see his sentinels as they were supposed to be but could in fact not see the prep work they all got to. Each of them had a part to play, a portion of the spell prep, artifacts, and materials needed. Like clockwork, they executed what they’d practiced in John’s basement over and over again under his ruthless and unforgiving tutelage.

Dean had learned about a side of John Winchester, the kind, calm but disciplined school principal, that he never would have guessed to be simmering just beneath the surface. Reprimands were firm and sharp whenever anyone made a mistake and neither Sam nor Dean complained on account of knowing that this would be a life-or-death situation. They needed to be sure of hand and expedient when the time came.

It was while the glamor lasted on the portal which would fade very quickly that they put the angelic wards in place that would prevent all grace from passing through. It was a spectacle to behold and Dean felt every hair on his body stand up with the amount of power and magic suffusing the air. A silent shockwave reverberated down his spine when Sam finished writing the Enochian warding around the top of the portal with archangel grace-infused ink. The warding fell like a silky curtain of glimmering celestial power across the entire rift.

The sentinels from the other realm remained unconscious still, as they were on this side of the portal. Rowena and her army could exert far more control over what they could make someone on the other side see or prevent from seeing.

With the warding in place and working, their spells primed with the two casters out of sight; it was up to John and Dean to give the performance of a lifetime. They needed to drag Lucifer into a conversation long enough for the others to execute. They were in a sphere of protection the entire time just in case the wards broke for whatever reason.

Dean swiftly adjusted his perception of the sharply dressed man across the rift from Lucifer to Samifer. It helped him remain calm, pretending that this was another Sam who just happened to have a Ruler of Hell inside of him. It made Dean feel less terrified.

Samifer was a weird, unsettling combination of a man who looked like Sam but clearly had someone else at the wheel. He showed up on the other side of the portal once the glamor spell went down, dressed in what looked like a bespoke white suit with an off-white dress shirt underneath. Dean thought it looked like a terrible prom outfit.

“I could sense there was something amiss but figured you would show your cards soon enough.” The tone was Sam’s but different. This Sam looked much younger and yet something was not quite him with how he pronounced his words and syllables within them.

John and Dean stood with their arms crossed and regarded Samifer.

“John and Dean Winchester… my oh my… I have to say I am impressed. How did you manage to cheat death and travel across worlds? I look forward to torturing that story out of you on a rack in Hell, Dad. As for your Dean, I’m excited to see what it takes to make you scream. ”

“You would never get your own hands dirty like that so let’s not even pretend,” John interjected.

“I gotta say though, you John should not be alive and walking around in a meatsuit at all. Last I checked you were in heaven, enjoying your happily ever after, and have been for quite some time. So that begs the question if you aren’t the real John Winchester from my world, who is this Dean next to you?”

Dean almost dropped out of character, not expecting Samifer to see through their ruse so quickly nor to learn about the familial connections between John and Dean in the other world. He and John were father and son over there? Sam was his brother? Samifer had a sharp, clever tongue and an intelligent mind but he caught himself and acted his heart out.

“Do you really think Castiel and I would just hide like cowards from you forever? When we caught wind of the portal, we used it.”

“Well if that is the case where is that pet angel of yours? He’s been known to be all but glued to your side, especially since I took over your darling baby brother as my meatsuit. Let me tell you it’s been a Hell of a ride, at least for me. Oh, the things I did to him in the cage were a walk in the park in comparison.”

Dean did drop his persona at that point, Sam and Dean were brothers in that world, none of them had come to that conclusion. None of them could have, not with the wildly out-of-order images that Rowena had collected from Lucifer’s sentinel. Sam had mentioned the cage to him in very broad strokes, he could only imagine what someone like Lucifer would do to a human caught with him in an inescapable cage.

<<< INSERT SAMIFER ART HERE >>>

“There it is,” Samifer said, wagging a pointed index finger at them with glee. “The crack that I’ve been looking for.” Dean spared a glance at John beside him who was still in character.

“If you think I’m going to let you ride my younger son for the rest of your abysmal existence you are sorely mistaken Lucifer. I have been to Hell, you don’t scare me and I have seen Sam saved from your clutches before and will do so again.

“NOW!!!” Came the command from Rowena in Dean and John’s heads. They dropped to the ground before quickly crawling out of harm’s way as fast as they could.

A blast of black and purple magic exploded from Rowena’s core, supported and powered by countless tendrils of black swirling magic drawn from the demonic realm around them. It was visually epic to watch. Her power morphed and undulated into near-tangible rope-like swirls that physically locked onto Samifer while a secondary pillar of power rushed past him.

As she moved her left hand to direct the magic that held Samifer in her grasp, Dean watched the Sam lookalike. His eyes grew wide, a countenance of terror on his face before he went completely slack in her hold and was dragged toward the portal until finally his physical form was pulled through right into his and John’s waiting arms. There was a sickening sizzle and smell of burning flesh and sulfur that came along with it as Lucifer’s grace was ripped from alt-Sam’s body and bound to Hell on the other side. John and Dean each held alt-Sam up by his arms as he hung like a ragdoll between them. His white suit was rumpled and burnt in places, a complete deadweight between them as they pulled him away from the rift. Dean helped to settle him against John’s chest and could only imagine how difficult this was for him. He raced off to get the first aid kit he’d brought in his backpack and a bottle of water.

Lucifer on the other side appeared to them as a shimmery red cloud of smoke interspersed with bright pearlescent streaks that spoke of his angelic origins, completely disembodied and roaring unintelligibly as the wards tore into him.

The other part of Rowena’s spell was an extraction and tracing spell that forcibly teleported Dean from Samifer’s world to the portal and pulled him through to their side. Attached to him, however, hugging him tight was none other but Castiel.

Dean knew and recognized him from the pictures Sam had shown him. Castiel’s mouth opened with a scream as both surprise and pain reflected across his features when the portal did its very best to divest him of all his angelic grace and bind it to Hell in the realm he was being extracted from. Unlike Lucifer's, his grace was a bright white-blue color that seemed to shine outward from within his very being. It burst almost violently through the pores of his skin and his eyes. Once he had fully passed the portal the windows to his soul darkened back to the natural blue color they were. Same as alt-Sam he was unconscious, only alt-Dean holding him up, who himself did look utterly exhausted and gaunt compared to Dean.

Simultaneously Sam’s magic poured out of his hands in a helix of undulating force more red and black in color than Rowena’s as it turned into an opaque surge of concentrated power. While Sam was throwing all he had at the portal to seal it permanently the two higher-level demons levitated Lucifer’s sentinels through the portal back to where they belonged.

Rowena had been amplifying Sam’s spell until he ran out of power and continued her part together with angelic grace as parsed out by the three demons of her court, using the celestial artifact Sam had procured from this world’s Castiel. Her purple and black power merged beautifully with the pure bright white and blue grace to slowly solidify the wall the portal had been on. The last thing everyone saw in that other world was a dispersed white bright glowing pearlescent-blue and an angry swirling black mass of smoke with little sparks of fire and red demonic energy running through it like ribbons.

Dean would learn later from Sam that what he’d seen, before the dark rock face sealed the portal forever, were the disembodied grace swirls of Castiel and Lucifer. They hadn’t intended nor expected for Castiel to hitch a ride. A Castiel who likely would be mortal unless they could restore his grace.

Once it was all done instead of just obsidian with yellow arteries of brimstone there were fine smaller traces of glowing angelic grace interwoven into the rock surface. Thus closing the door to the world that alt-Dean, alt-Castiel, and alt-Sam had just been saved from.

Rowena stumbled once the deed was done, her higher-level demons keeping her upright sharing their life force willingly with their leader. While Sam was plastered against Dean’s front where he sat on the ground, arms wrapped around his torso after they’d overbalanced when Dean caught him, going down together. Dean’s hand was protecting the back of Sam’s head to keep it from impacting. Sam’s eyes were half-lidded, his nose red with a nosebleed and his eyes glossy and black looking at him with gratefulness. There was nothing feral or animalistic in them right now, just an exhausted man too tired to tuck that side of him away at that moment. He could feel eyes on him and caught John looking, his face neutral at best clearly having seen what Sam could do including his eyes. John tossed Dean a few gauze pads which he used to gently wipe the blood from Sam’s nose, his head resting in Dean’s lap, he looked dizzy and utterly spent.

Dean looked at everyone around him. John still had alt-Sam cradled against him, gently disinfecting the scrapes and bruises he could reach, patting his cheeks once every so often to rouse him.

“Sam, Dean a little help here please?”

Sam and Dean turned as one but John had already turned around again busying himself with trying to rouse alt-Sam. Beside him in a heap were alt-Dean and alt-Castiel both insensate but breathing that much Dean could tell.

“He may be too broken to survive without the angelic presence in him.” Rowena’s warning rushed through Dean’s mind as he watched John, no doubt affected by seeing someone who looked just like his son so severely injured but not even knowing how or if they could be helped.

Sam thanked Dean for taking care of him and accepted his hand up, wanting to go check on their counterparts and their unexpected third visitor that none of them had expected to come through. Alt-Cas and alt-Dean were side-by-side, faces turned towards each other and their hands held tight even while unconscious.

“Are they?” Dean asked.

“Not sure, we’ll find out more when they wake, don’t get too close if he’s a hunter like John or me, we’ll have a fight at our hands when he wakes up. As for Castiel, I don’t know what to make of him being here.”

Alt-Dean was the first one to wake and came up fighting. Sam had wandered over to him, figuring him and Castiel to be the biggest threats and he swiftly subdued him, pinning his arm to his back and wrapping an arm around his neck in warning, pushing alt-Dean’s chest into the ashy dark rock.

“Calm down Dean. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are because you sure as Hell ain’t my brother. I’m in literal Hell after being dragged through some wormhole so excuse me for punching first and asking questions later.”

“Lucifer sent a Hellhound after you but for some reason, it got misguided and came into our world. That created a rift between universes and it went after Dean Smith.”

“Hey, nice to meet you, er… Dean.” If looks could kill Dean Smith knew he’d be nothing but a pile of ash right now with how his counterpart was glaring up at him from his position under Sam.

“We had to seal the rift but wanted to save you and Sam. I am Sam Winchester but I am not your brother nor are Dean and I related in this world.”

That last statement made alt-Dean stop his futile struggle against Sam’s hold as he regarded Dean. Really looked at him from top to bottom before his gaze dropped to the unmoving form of Castiel just to the other side of him.

“Let me go, you damn moose, I need to check that Cas is okay.”

“You gonna behave or go swinging at me again?” Sam asked unimpressed and easily kept alt-Dean under control, despite his renewed and intense struggles. Alt-Dean was far thinner and more wiry than teacher Dean and he wondered just what their otherworldly counterparts had been through.

“I believe you, okay, let me check on him, please. Something happened to him when we crossed through, it’s like, I could feel it in my bones, something with this grace. We are mated.” Alt-Dean said that last bit like it should explain everything while Sam and Dean looked at each other confused. He let alt-Dean go, who was on his knees beside Castiel within seconds, and cradled his hurt friend close to him, tender fingers stroking through his hair, checking him over for injuries, whispering softly to him, begging him to wake up. His touches were driven by love, that much was obvious to both Sam and Dean.

Dean walked over to Sam who still swayed a bit where he stood and folded his arm around his waist. A small thankful smile rushed across Sam’s features in response. “What do you think that means, to be mated?” Sam just shrugged his shoulders and Dean left the subject alone. He could see how tired Sam was now that his eyes were back to hazel. He figured he’d been running on adrenaline these past few minutes and was flagging fast.

The trek back was arduous and took them a very long time. Travel by flight was not an option as there were small pesky dragon-like creatures that lived in caves in the cliff walls on these levels of Hell. These creatures took great pleasure in shooting down anything, that took to the sky, with vicious balls of fire.

***

Everyone except Rowena and her demons settled in at John’s house. Both alt-Sam and alt-Cas were still not waking up and alt-Dean was a bundle of angry nervous energy, pacing the room he insisted he set up camp in with his Cas and his Sam at John’s house.

Dean was able to talk to alt-Dean a number of times and every time he did, he didn’t get very far. The small tidbits his counterpart shared only led his curious mind to come up with more questions, which started to become a bit of a theme of late. Yes, he and Cas were mated, grace/soul-bound mates, and since crossing over he couldn’t feel their bond anymore. Alt-Dean demanded that Sam explain why they had done what they did. The screaming match sounded so much like one between brothers it would have been funny under other circumstances. Ultimately Dean stepped in because he could see that his counterpart was seconds away from throwing a punch.

Through their argument, both of their filters came down and Dean learned some truths that were painful for both. Alt-Dean had lost his brother to Lucifer because alt-Sam said yes to save alt-Dean. Following that was a year-long constant race to stay ahead of Samifer who was intent on killing alt-Dean because he was Michael’s designated vessel. If it weren’t for alt-Castiel who warded him with Enochian symbols on his ribs and made him disappear off the face of the earth as far as Lucifer was concerned, he’d not be alive today. They’d come face-to-face with his brother a couple of times, trying everything they could to save alt-Sam from the clutches of Lucifer riding him. All of them were failed attempts. Alt-Dean’s entire purpose in life had been to keep Sam safe because that’s what he had promised their dad. To protect him with his life at just 4 years old when he carried him out of the burning house that claimed their mom.

Dean Smith saw his Sam's eyes go wide when he heard that part of alt-Dean’s story and watched his empathy manifest for his brother from another world.

Sam in turn told alt-Dean that he wasn‘t going to leave his other self be the meat-puppet for an archangel for the rest of his days. That Dean, if he was so close to his brother, should know that Sam would never want to live out his days like this and would have done the same in his shoes. He also told alt-Dean that Dean Smith wasn’t even in the life and got dragged into this entire mess because of alt-Dean’s actions and yet still wanted to save him despite the risks.

That last bit made alt-Dean focus on Dean and he felt like he was under a particularly bright spotlight but could see a look of respect on the hunter’s face. Physically noticed his anger come down a few notches right in front of him as his body lost some of its tension.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

It was the most anticlimactic ending to a non-sibling argument Dean had ever seen.

***

Over time everyone noticed that alt-Dean wouldn’t go near alt-Sam and would only sporadically check on him. This became especially egregious when alt-Sam started coming to with fevers wracking his already weakened body, his brow burning up. His nightmares were vivid and frequent and often seeped into lucid dreams that wouldn’t even leave him alone when awake.

John insisted then that they move alt-Sam, yes they had all taken to calling their otherworldly visitors that, to a room of his own. That way he, Sam, and Dean could look after him. He explained in soft gentle words that he understood that alt-Dean didn’t want to let his father down, and didn’t want to break his promise but alt-Cas was still not waking up, his vital signs were good though. John also intimated that he could sense alt-Dean’s fear and that it was okay to feel afraid and downright terrified because the life he lived would scare many a strong person to death. Dean Smith finally understood then as he overheard John talking to alt-Dean. His namesake was scared of his own brother, worried sick for his lover and partner Cas, and had a hard time dealing with these emotions on his own. He followed John’s gentle nudges to go and look after alt-Cas without question and Smith wondered what more there was to alt-Dean’s relationship to his late father. He quietly left the room when alt-Dean melted into the hug John offered, his shoulder shaking with heartbreaking sobs.

He couldn’t fathom just how much what he’d said meant to alt-Dean, a man who’d been told his entire life to be strong, to never show weakness, and to protect his baby brother at all costs. A baby brother he was so scared of right now, he could barely stand to be in the same room as him but felt obligated to do it anyway.

Dean with Sam’s help gently coaxed alt-Sam to grab his things to take him to his new room across the hall. The younger version of Sam looked up at him the entire time and didn’t walk as tall and proud as Sam himself did. Dean hoped they’d be able to help him find his confidence again. Same as alt-Dean his body looked narrower in the waist and he felt bonier as they supported him walking the short distance to his own room.

Dean was glad that John could offer alt-Dean some comfort. They both checked in on John a while later and found that alt-Dean had fallen asleep against his chest, his body still worn out from the portal journey and the emotional thunderstorm of emotions that had been set free. John gingerly laid alt-Dean down on the queen-sized bed beside alt-Cas and covered him in a blanket.

Alt-Sam seemed to take to Dean the most perhaps because he didn’t look like him or because Sam and Dean from the other world had had a deep brotherly bond before the whole Lucifer possession nightmare started. He hadn’t talked much yet but kept close to Dean as they made lunch together in companionable silence. Sam ended up having to leave the room because alt-Sam was scared of him to the point of completely freezing up whenever he set eyes on him. Dean figured it was because he looked like alt-Sam.

***

Rowena visited the following day to check on Cas again but she couldn’t detect any grace in him. Nor could she answer alt-Dean’s question as to whether their bond was still in place. She suggested what Sam and Dean had been talking about since getting back; that they should try and bring Castiel from this world into this for help. However, alt-Dean vehemently refused the idea. Worried that Castiel here would smite them both, having been told long ago that no two versions of the same person or creature were allowed to exist in the same space and time. When Sam cracked a joke about the butterfly effect, alt-Dean positively glared at him.

The thing was, nobody had a sure and reliable connection to Castiel and couldn’t with certainty say that what alt-Dean predicted wouldn’t actually happen. They didn’t have the means to keep an angel contained or controlled so they followed alt-Dean’s lead in the matter.

The week post-Hell continued much like this with John and alt-Dean connecting more and more each day. He learned about the kind of man John Winchester had been in alt-Dean’s universe and how he had died sacrificing himself for Dean. He also learned that he had been a revenge-driven task master who forced alt-Dean to grow up far too quickly in a parentified state towards alt-Sam that seemed utterly unhealthy. Despite all that, alt-Dean spoke of John Winchester as a man he looked up to and ultimately loved.

***

Alt-Sam was jittery, on edge, and jump-scared easily and didn’t really speak the first couple of days he was awake, seeing this world’s Sam made him fold his arms over his head protectively and cower. Following that reaction, John and Dean took turns bringing him food and often found him curled up in a ball in the corner of the room. On better days he was sitting on the bed, knees against his chest rocking gently back and forth. “You are safe Sam, I promise you, Lucifer is no longer in you and locked away in Hell in your world. So even the people on Earth where you come from are better off. Also, here in this world, Lucifer is dead. His own brother Michael killed him with an archangel blade. The only person capable of bringing him back from the Empty, where angels go after they die, is God, a Nephilim by the name of Jack and he isn’t going to.”

Alt-Sam looked up at John with glossy hazel eyes that conveyed his fear, incredulity, and hope all in one. John felt like he understood, seeing your dad in the flesh when he had been dead for decades must be very strange and overwhelming.

“Sam I have no doubt that your dad would have been proud of you. You protected your brother from harm just as your brother tried to protect you all his life since the house fire.”

John, after Sam remained mute a few days longer, slowly introduced to Ellen, whom he seemed perfectly fine with from the word go. Recognition flitted across his drawn, young features as he held perfectly still for her while she checked him over. She’d done first aid on him when they first got there but not while he was conscious. She informed him that while she couldn’t tell without taking any imaging of his larynx that, based on his reaction to the tests she could perform without equipment, he was physically well and should be capable of speech.

The week post-Hell continued much like this with John and alt-Dean connecting more and more he learned about the kind of man John Winchester had been in alt-Dean’s universe and how he had died sacrificing himself for Dean.

***

Alt-Castiel remained unchanged and when John brought his close friend, a school nurse in to check on alt-Sam, he insisted that she look at alt-Cas as well. Alt-Dean stayed close and watched her like a hawk the entire time, clearly suspicious around strangers which was understandable after having been on the run from the devil wearing his brother for a decade.

She also checked Sam over who followed her instructions obediently whenever she needed him to move this way or that. The extent of testing she could do on the condition of his voice box was limited but based on the tests she could do, he should be capable of speech but perhaps his muteness was a trauma response.

Alt-Sam ended up spending his time around Dean and John most of the time, clearly taking to the both of them and became less jumpy, and ultimately his voice came back too. It was discombobulating for Sam to see alt-Sam beside his Dean. With the help of Ellen’s cooking alt-Sam slowly began to put on some muscle and fat on his skinny tall frame. He was clearly much younger than him when Lucifer took over his vessel. He wanted to ask how that came about but felt it was inappropriate because he feared he might trigger a panic episode in alt-Sam.

He’d had a few panic attacks already, usually sparked by nightmares that had him thinking he was still not in control or safe. One night he and John fell asleep on the couch watching a movie and that night he didn’t have any nightmares at all. Was it a bit strange for John to cuddle with a grown man who wasn’t actually his son but looked like him? Perhaps to an outsider but Sam knew a thing or two about post-traumatic stress syndrome. If physically touching his hand or bumping shoulders with him, John or Dean helped him get the rest he needed then so be it.

Alt-Sam even warmed up to Sam and seemed endlessly curious about his relationship with Dean and how they were not related by blood. Explained to him how different John was compared to the revenge-driven father they had grown up with who treated them more like soldiers than his sons. Sam also finally allowed his curiosity to roam free a bit and asked him a few questions. Alt-Sam seemed glad he asked how it was to be possessed by Lucifer, stating that nobody had asked him that before. He told Sam with Dean sitting beside him how he was present for all of it but completely paralyzed and prevented from taking any kind of action against what he saw his own hands doing. Lucifer would keep him awake for weeks at a time, the grace would heal his body in a way that sleep did for regular humans.

***

Dean could tell that alt-Sam was starting to flag after they had a lunch of grilled cheeses and tomato soup and suggested they do some reading to see if they could help Cas. Alt-Sam’s eyes lit up at that clearly research was his kind of thing much like Dean had been learning it was Sam’s forte as well. Alt-Sam nodded off fairly quickly, his tall body curled up on the couch beside Dean, his feet touching against his thigh. He decided to put John’s theory about touch to the test and remained exactly where he was for the next couple of hours catching some shut-eye himself.

That night as he and Sam slept in the guest bedroom they shared at John’s, he felt utterly out of his depth. He hadn’t realized until now, not really having much downtime, how much the rescue and the presence of them affected him. He was used to living on his own, interacting with people at work only and sometimes parents beyond the time at the school. This was more constant social interaction than he had had in years. The trauma and struggles alt-Sam had shared with Sam and him so candidly were worming their way into his subconscious.

He sees the school corridor, completely devoid of students and there’s Sam at the far end, his Sam, black-eyed and snarling and he watches him rush towards him, running on all fours like a wolf or a bear in human form. His face is shifting and morphing the closer he gets and Dean tries to run, tries to get out of the way but the thing pounces on him and rips his throat out. He can viscerally feel his skin tear, the iron tang rising into his nostrils as his blood spills and the muscle strands snap. He screams but it’s nothing but a wet gurgle and then everything resets.

Sam races in his direction again but this time he sees his own hand come up, completely unbidden as a creepy voice, Samifer’s voice, tells him to enjoy the show. He slices the blade across Sam’s face and chest, stabbing him in the chest and Dean screams this time. It’s a loud terrified and desperately sad noise as he sees the man, who he’s slowly growing to love with all his heart, crumpling to the ground. Lifeless hazel eyes are staring up at him in death.”

“Dean! Hey Dean… wake up! It’s not real, whatever you’re seeing it’s just a dream.”

Dean was deep within the tangled vines of his subconscious and could hear the voice, this was real, wasn’t it? How could this be a dream? He wondered and found himself shaking with the shock of it but that voice continued to yell at him. He heard it as if muffled by a set of headphones not quite clear and yet there and not to be ignored. He felt his shoulders shake and it was when Sam cupped his cheek that he jumpscared out of the figment of his sleeping self’s imagination. He nearly headbutted Sam in the process.

He was bathed in cold sweat with his heart going a mile a minute as he tried to make out Sam in the darkened room. “There you are Dean, you’re safe, we’re at John’s house, remember?”

Dean explained the two-in-one dream to Sam who listened attentively but didn’t say much other than reassure him that they were just dreams. However, Dean knew Sam well enough by now when the man was genuinely concerned.

“Spill it, Sam. I can hear your thoughts going wild. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Dreams are how angels communicate. On one hand, this is very likely just your mind trying to make sense of learning about heaven, hell, and angels being real and on the other hand, I worry about the specific presence of Lucifer in your mind.”

“I think I can put your mind at ease, you remember how alt-Sam a described earlier what it was like to be possessed by Lucifer? It felt nothing like that. He seemed desperate to talk about it, to be honest. I’d been tiptoeing around the subject like everyone else but what if he does need to talk to someone, what if that is how he can get better, become less jumpy and trusting again? I can contend with a few nightmares if it allows him to find his way back to normal.”

“That explains part of it but please let me know if the nightmares repeat. Please promise me that?”

“You got it, Sammy.”

“Sammy, where’d you get that nickname from? Did my dad tell you that he used to call me that?”

“Nah just felt like it.”

***

Sam started doing research in earnest when alt-Cas still wasn’t waking up. Every so often he would run an idea by John with alt-Dean piping up. Dean Smith found his counterpart a bit grating, impulsive, blatant, and yet incredibly repressed in many ways. He figured the fact that he himself was fundamentally introverted probably had something to do with it and being around this many people constantly was starting to take a toll on him.

He kept going anyway, these people needed help and support and his own worries were minor compared to what these Winchesters had gone through. Even the boisterous alt-Dean was becoming more moody as the days progressed but Dean recognized his sadness and worry for what they were.

It was day five, two days until they had to return to teaching, that Sam stopped him in the hallway after coming back from seeing Rowena well before the others had even gotten up. “You and me today, we’re going to ride my bike until you yip like you did that first time around. I’m buying you lunch and then I’m taking you home.”

“But what about them?”

“John’s friends are coming over, they will help him hold down the fort.”

“Can we trust them? I mean this is a weird situation.”

To their complete surprise when they entered the kitchen that morning alt-Dean and alt-Sam were sitting at the kitchen table pouring over books the three of them, John included doing research. Sitting beside them were two guys one tall and broad in build and the other fairly normal-looking and of medium height who looked up at Sam and Dean when they walked in. Dean was happy to see that alt-Dean sat close to alt-Sam, seeming to have turned over a new leaf with regard to his brother.

“Damn John, you weren’t kidding eh?”

“Sure wasn’t Frank. Frank Morgan, Diego Martinez meet my son Sam and his partner Dean Smith.”

Dean looked over at Sam when John said that. They hadn’t really had a chance to give whatever was going on between them a name but he kinda liked the idea of being partners. Sam chuckled and actually leaned over to kiss Dean on the cheek.

“Good to see you again Frank and Diego, it’s been a long time.”

“You boys go and have fun.”

“Yes Sir,” Sam responded without hesitation as they waved goodbye to everyone and beelined for the door.

***

It took Sam driving around the curve toward the ocean for Dean to finally find that free-flying feeling again. When he did, he realized how much he had just been existing and not really living. Had been keeping himself in that limbo state of putting everything and everyone ahead of himself. How Sam had the energy to take him out of his gloomy state of mind when he’d been in much the same situation, he couldn’t fathom.

They were sitting on an embankment wall letting their feet dangle looking out at the blue horizon of the Pacific Ocean, enjoying the fresh crisp morning air, their thighs and shoulders touching where they sat.

“Is this what hunting is like? Constantly carrying the weight of the well-being of others on your shoulders? Pushing through no matter how tired you feel in your bones? No matter how much it takes from you?”

“Never thought of it that way but yeah it pretty much is. As much as I am happy that we saved those three, especially alt-Sam I don’t miss this, it's a hard life. An existence lived in secret, among a community where sharing is not caring and showing weaknesses, much like how alt-Dean talks about his dad was exactly that, something that could get you killed.”

“Was John ever like that, your dad?”

“Uhu… he was blinded by grief, loss, depression, so much anger, and a hunger for revenge that you can’t even imagine. It took me a very long time to forgive him for the childhood that created for me, for how fast I was having to grow up. But no matter how long it took me, it took him even longer to find the grace to forgive himself for all of it.”

“You’re amazing. You know that? I don’t even know half of your story and I have a million questions that I’ve been saving up for once this Hell mission is done. To have done this for an unpaid living and turn out the way you have is nothing short of incredible mental fortitude. I hope you are aware of that, Sam.”

Sam looked over at him slightly slack-jawed and Dean realized that he really hadn’t been aware of it. It made him feel good to be able to offer Sam something in return for all he’d done for him during the past few weeks.

“Let me try to drive that point home. You’ve been to Hell, taking Lucifer off the board to save this Earth and still, you are this tall, kind and caring human being after all the shit you’ve been through. After all the unfair self-sacrifice you made for people who will never in their lifetime even know your name. I for one see you Sam Winchester, the man who saved my life, the man who looks like a Greek God, absolutely knows it, and yet has the ability to spot when someone is struggling.”

Sam looked away from him then a chortled laugh tumbling from his lips as a single tear spilled over when he took to staring out at the ocean. His chin was quivering, his jaw clenching as he let the words wash over him and allowed the emotions they triggered to flow freely.

Dean for once wrapped his arm around Sam’s strong shoulders. “I’m very glad that we have met and the fact that it took a Hellhound to bring us into this, will make for a great story to retell someday when we’re old and gray.”

“A little presumptuous, are we?” Sam was teasing as he turned back to Dean, “I’d love to grow old with you Dean. Now let me take you for that lunch date I promised you what feels like an eternity ago?”

They both leaned in then and kissed, a light almost chaste touch of lips, that Sam deepened, gently cupping the back of Dean’s head, thumb caressing his cheekbone as he conveyed all that he felt for the man beside him.

Sam learned that day that Dean Smith loved apple pie, burgers, and curly fries. The fact that he also not only tolerated being playfully fed fries right there in public was the icing on the cake. He also was a little tease, as he closed those gorgeous plush lips around Sam’s fingers. Not every time but enough to make Sam wonder. He slid in next to Dean on the patent leather bench of their booth, blocking him in against the wall. The place was not busy as they got there well past the breakfast crowd before the lunchtime population showed up.

He slid his hand exploringly across Dean’s crotch, could feel him jump, and heard him gasp when he realized what was happening. “Any … ah … anyone could see.”

“You’re pretty tucked away there Smith in more ways than one, think I can get you to soil your pants like this?”

“Not… ugh… yeah you could but totally not my kink.”

They swiftly discovered that while Dean Smith does not have a thing for public embarrassment, he was however more than into being sucked off against the rough bark of a tree near the diner parking lot. The property backed onto the foothills of the nearby mountains and was thick with underbrush so they could no longer see the parking lot after just about 20 yards into it.

As Dean came down Sam’s throat he thrust his hips forward, making Sam gag a little, reflexive tears shooting into his eyes, while he swallowed down every last drop. He stood tall then and absolutely devoured Dean’s mouth while holding him still with a strong hand gripping his chin. Dean melted into him where he stood. Allowed Sam to share his own taste back with him until he finished up with a bite to Dean’s lower lip. Smith looked utterly debauched, his lips kiss-swollen, green eyes a shade darker as he rode the high of his post-orgasmic bliss.

Sam made a point of tucking him back in and zipping him back up, teasingly running a firm palm across his sensitive cock which made Dean’s torso tilt forward, a shuddering breath against Sam’s throat.

“I don’t usually put out on a first date,” Dean explained in a slurry voice.

“That’s okay Dean neither do I. Plus this is technically our second date if you count our excursion to Hell.”

“Yeah, let’s go with that. Hey, what about you?”

“Today’s day was about you Dean, I promise I’m not going anywhere.

Chapter Text

That evening Rowena came back to the house with the spell Sam had gone to see her about earlier in the day. After some convincing, alt-Dean agreed that this was their best bet to try and rouse alt-Castiel.

They were all fairly sure that he wasn’t entirely human because his body showed none of the signs such as muscle atrophy or bed sores of any kind that would usually become an issue. His skin remained the healthy tone it had been when he passed through the portal. His vessel seemed a little malnourished in line with how alt-Dean first looked when they got here.

The spell was a grace healing spell and they went over the details of it multiple times. If there was a spark of grace left in alt-Cas this spell would jumpstart it into regenerating. It sounded like the perfect solution but also one that was unlikely to work. Both Sam and Rowena held their tongues not wanting to destroy the small glimmer of hope in alt-Dean’s eyes.

Rowena advised everyone human to leave the room but alt-Dean could not be convinced. He made no secret out of the fact that he hated witches and he certainly had never met a Rowena in his world so his trust level for the petite and sassy redhead was non-existent. “As you wish,” she conceded, which had Sam quirk an eyebrow as he didn’t know his friend as ever conceding if she was convinced of something to be better otherwise.

Dean was dying to watch it all happen and Sam apparently felt the same way as he set up their two phones on a video call so they could watch from the other room. John’s hunter friends had left before Rowena showed up. It was one thing for them to meet another set of Winchesters, and quite another for hunters to work with someone they would normally hunt.

John, alt-Sam, Sam, and Dean sat around the kitchen table, their eyes glued to the phone screen watching it all unfold.

Rowena gathered her magic, sweeping arm motions that pulled in glimmering purple magic seemingly out of thin air which Sam explained was her pulling power from the nature around John’s house. She proceeded to marry it with her inner powers that were demonic, a side effect of being the ruler of Hell. She shaped them into a sphere of power and directed it at the crystal artifact that still had some residual archangel grace in it. Her forces collected all that was left of it and encased it in a magic sphere. When she spoke the old Enochian words to direct that prepared grace toward Castiel something unexpected happened. A small spear of grace shot out from within the glowing ball of magic and stabbed alt-Dean in the chest. He stood arms at his side as if something was being pulled from him before the shaft of grace retreated and he dropped like a puppet with its strings cut. Rowena couldn’t stop now though as she gently lowered the swirling hybrid sphere of magic and grace down into alt-Cas’ chest. The angel’s eyes snapped open, his body physically arched up off the bed as the mix of magic, and grace suffused his earthly body.

It happened too fast for anyone to react but a bluish-white tendril of the grace that was glowing brightly within alt-Cas’ chest pulled away and shot into alt-Dean’s chest on the ground moving him a few feet with the sheer power of it. Once all the power was absorbed into alt-Cas he slowly settled back down on the bed, not looking any better or worse than before. His entire chest and Dean’s where his heart was located pulsated with the celestial light of the restored grace and what they could only presume was their grace/soul bond that had been restored.

“What happened? Isn’t he supposed to wake up?”

“I’m not sure Dean, let’s wait for her to finish up.”

Dean’s jaw dropped as Rowena levitated alt-Dean’s insensate body, using her magic wielded by elegant fingers, to settle him beside alt-Cas on the bed. The two of them seemed to be asleep to anyone looking on. She made a point of making sure that their hands touched between them.

“It’s safe to come in boys.”

Neither Sam nor Dean needed to be told twice and rushed into the room while John hung back.

***

“Rowena, what happened, I thought they’d be better?”

“Have patience Samuel, my suspicions were correct. Alt-Dean said he was mated to this Castiel and yet angels do not have a soul for a human to bond with. I have not had much dealings with human and angel partnerships but if the core essence of an angel is their grace and a human’s is our soul it would only make sense that through mateship whatever that entails exactly a piece of each is gifted to the other.”

“You mean to say that spark that hit Dean was communicating to the shard of alt-Castiel’s grace which alt-Dean carries in him?”

“Exactly. And once the archangel grace from the artifact adapted and recharged the seraph-level grace sufficiently it reinforced the bond which is all part of recharging the life force of a mated angel.”

Pained groans pulled their attention and alt-Sam rushed toward alt-Dean his protective instincts of his big brother had been growing stronger every day, a small building block of normal.

“Dean? You okay, can you hear me?”

“Sammy? What…”

“Hey Dean, thought you weren’t going to wake up.” It pained alt-Sam when his brother suddenly scrambled backward on the bed, putting distance between them.

“Dean please don’t, it’s ok. I’m me, remember we came through the portal. The wards at this end burned all the grace out of me, same as what happened to Cas. Please don’t push me away.”

Alt-Dean regarded alt-Sam with disdain and a level of mistrust that cut alt-Sam deeper than a knife. Sam and Dean recognized the masked pain on alt-Sam’s face when he realized that alt-Dean kept his distance, whether he remembered or not neither knew.

“Ok I’m just gonna… erm… I’ll leave you and Cas to it, huh? He should be waking up soon Dean. I really hope he does for what it’s worth. I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you.”

“Don’t you dare apologize…” Everyone in the room stared at Dean Smith when he yelled at his alternate-world namesake. Sam tried to soothe him with a hand on his shoulder which Dean promptly shrugged off as he moved closer to where alt-Dean was now standing, not one to be caught in a weak position. “No Sam, he needs to hear it!” Stabbing an accusing index finger at Dean’s shoulder he continued: “You’ve been treating your baby brother like a pest ever since you got here. Do you realize that he has had to watch the Devil, Lucifer himself kill, maim, hurt, and decimate creatures and human beings for 10 years? He had a first-person view the entire time. Did you ever bother to ask him about how that was for him? I realize you have your own struggles, but he’s your brother who you are supposed to protect and this entire time until this morning you’ve been acting like he’s got a contagious disease. What is wrong with you Dean? Can’t you see he’s hurting? Have a heart man, I know your old man wasn’t like John Winchester in this world but can’t you see that your brother needs you as much as your angel mate does? Did you forget the 6-month-old you carried out of a burning building?”

Alt-Dean stood there wavering, face blank, tight set to his jaw while Dean ripped into him. His eyes were sharp, those of a predator as every word served to stoke his level of anger higher and higher. Everyone could see it in the clench of his jaw, the set of his lips, the way he held his body. “What the Hell would you know about any of this? You’re not me, haven’t lived the life. You’re a cheap knockoff at best, living an apple-pie life in this walk-in-the-bloody-park world. Why don’t you go back to making googly eyes at your own Sam and keep your nose out of what doesn’t concern you.”

“This cheap knock-off saved your jaded, emotionally stunted ass and has been dealing with your bullshit for long enough. If I could…” Sam did interject then, as he stood strong and tall slightly to the side and behind Dean to back him up, a gentle grounding hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Please Dean stop before you say something you’re gonna regret. This isn’t you, he’s riling you up is all.”

“Damn right he is, they’re given a second chance and he pisses on it every chance he gets, completely ignoring his own flesh and blood.”

“Please stop Dean.” The voice was alt-Sam’s less sure, breaking on the last word. Dean looked over at him and the sad eyes he found had the next syllable die a quick death on his tongue.

“I’m sorry Sam, it’s just…”

“I know,” both Sams answered at the same time.

“Let’s give them some room, I’m sure Dean will let us know when Cas wakes up,” with that, John herded all of them out of there.

***

The whole lot of them settled in the cozy living room, John in his La-Z-Boy armchair while Sam, alt-Sam, and Dean took up the three-seater couch, alt-Sam between them. He looked very sad and barely spoke as they ate some beef and vegetable stew from their bowls on TV trays.

They made it through NCIS until Dean, with alt-Sam trotting after him, decided to take on kitchen duty. John and Sam continued watching the next episode. It was a mind-numbing distraction in a situation where they both were itching to help, do something more than give alt-Dean and Castiel space.

Alt-Sam armed himself with a towel and dried all the dishes as soon as Dean handed them to him. “I appreciate what you did in there, Dean. You see we swore to each other when we were younger, the first time we found out that we were the vessels of Lucifer and Michael, that we’d never say yes, no matter what. He’s got the right to be angry, walk away from me if he wants to.”

Dean’s hands stopped then as he looked over and up at alt-Sam. “That’s not how family works Sam. You don’t just give up on your family like that. He’s scared of Lucifer not you and Lucifer isn’t here anymore. I saw him when the spell got its spikes into his floaty form, essence whatever it’s called. You’re not him anymore and I think you somehow see it as your fault that all the things that Lucifer did happened to your world.”

“I said yes.”

“And haven’t you paid your dues for that and then some by now? A mistake, a single solitary choice that I’d almost wager you’d repeat, given how much alt-Dean means to you. Also, don’t tell me for a second that he wouldn’t do the exact same thing if your places were reversed.”

Alt-Sam didn’t say anything to that, his forehead scrunching up as he processed the information.

“You guys have a second chance at a life away from all that. He’s the only family you got left. Well, other than us because if you need anything you say the word Sam, and if I can help you I will.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

***

John was the only one still awake when alt-Dean and alt-Cas walked into the room hours later. The two Sams and Dean were dog-piled on the couch softly snoring as the flickering images of the TV danced across their faces.

“Why you must be Castiel? It’s nice to see you awake. How do you feel?”

“John Winchester, you are…” The angel tilted his head to the side and John couldn’t help the burst of laughter that bubbled up within him because Cas looked like a curious cat more so than a powerful celestial being.

“Not dead and not in heaven, this is a different timeline, a different universe. You and I met in my world but you weren’t very fond of my son Sam because of his demon blood. You made no secret of it but angel or not, nobody treats my son with disrespect.”

Alt-Cas looked over at the three men on the couch.

The talking roused Dean first who nudged both Sams who were flanking him to wake them.

“Castiel, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve never met an angel before. My name’s Dean Smith.”

“Fascinating,” alt-Cas moved in close to Dean and with gentle fingers turned his head this way and that as if inspecting him. “Exactly alike and yet your soul vibrates at a different frequency.”

“My what does what, now?”

“Your soul, the very essence that makes you human. Without it, you’d be a being devoid of emotions and inhibition. It is not at all as good as that may sound to you, Dean Smith.”

Castiel turned towards alt-Sam next leaving a slightly perplexed Dean in his wake.

“Sam? I can see you, all of you! I am so relieved my brother’s terror over you has ceased.” In a show of affection that seemed to surprise all present for different reasons, alt-Cas wrapped him up in his arms and hugged him.

Dean noticed that alt-Sam melted into the hug, perhaps there was a chance for these three yet. “I’m so happy to see you Sam, how do you feel, may I?”

“Cas, don’t! You only just woke up, we don't know how strong your grace is yet,” alt-Dean interjected but Cas paid him no mind as he focused in on alt-Sam with two fingers on his forehead. Alt-Sam closed his eyes and felt the familiar healing grace of alt-Cas rush through every cell of his body as he sought to find any residue or remnants of Lucifer.

“It’s all you Sam, there isn’t a trace of Lucifer in you.” Castiel’s face was a mix of almost child-like wonder as if having just learned something that he had never seen before.

To everyone’s surprise, alt-Dean finally moved in and hugged alt-Sam close. It was as if he had been waiting for alt-Castiel’s confirmation that alt-Sam was truly him and nothing but.

John, Dean, and Sam introduced themselves, filled in who they were to each other and how it all happened. What the wards were that they’d used and it all ended with Rowena’s explanation that the shard of his grace encapsulated in Dean’s chest was how alt-Cas was able to survive.

“Dean and I have been on the run from my big brother Lucifer or Samifer as you called him for a long time. The etchings on his ribs make him a blank signature for angels. However, we learned through research that if we became a bonded pair that I could truly hide him away with the strength of our bond.

“The ceremony itself is surprisingly simple in that the human and angel must copulate without protection and switch positions to seal the connection,” alt-Castiel clearly wasn’t versed in polite conversation when he laid all that out in detail.

John and Dean managed to suppress their chuckles and Sam made a weird snort of a sound as he noticed how the bridge of alt-Dean’s nose suddenly looked more vividly freckled as a blush rushed across his skin there.

“When such a connection happens, a piece of my grace is embedded at his core, just beneath his solar plexus, and in turn a part of his soul is settled within me. His soul protected the seed of my grace, the kernel of celestial grace if you will. Mine did the same for his soul shard that his entire soul is growing and powered from. Once the ward took my grace, it could not get to the kernel of my grace within him because it was protected by the impenetrable strength of his righteous soul. On the flip side, his soul shard in me was wrapped up in grace and that was stripped away violently. As soon as the angel’s grace is recharged, so are all the pieces the angel has given of himself to others. Some of us mate with multiple people during our lives while others only mate once and never again once their human mate passes on.”

“So the spell re-established your bond and jump-started your grace?” Sam clarified.

“Exactly, it will be a while yet until I feel completely back to normal and at full strength.”

“Consider my home your home, if there is anything you need we can run out and get it or order it for you. Though I would caution you about going into town yourself. Explaining how there are two Deans and two Sams all of a sudden is not something I think I can reasonably explain to the entire town.”

***

Things remained fairly copacetic for the next couple of days until Sam, John, and Dean had to return to work, not after multiple queries from alt-Dean and alt-Sam asking if they truly were academics and that it wasn’t just a cover. The concept of leaving the life behind seemed difficult for them. Especially for alt-Dean who’d never really known or existed outside of it. Stocked up with all the things needed to make a Ceaser salad with chicken, burgers, and fries as well as cherry peach and apple crumble pie for alt-Dean they waved goodbye Monday morning and went off to school. Ellen had been staying at a friend’s place as there simply was too much testosterone flying around their house right now.

Sam and Dean left a bit earlier to be able to stop by Dean’s place so he could get some work clothes and shoes. Riding with Sam to work was a given and when he got into his Prius which had been parked at the school for over a week by now, it felt all wrong and strange. Like a remnant of a life he’d left behind a much lonelier life too.

Similarly, when he entered his apartment that night, for the first time intending to sleep in his own bed he was overcome by sadness. The neatly organized space that used to give him so much joy and satisfaction to maintain was the external manifestation of the scared and contrived human being he had become. Motorcycle-riding, kind-hearted, and strong-bodied Sam Winchester had ripped into that carefully curated existence with chaos, demon powers and love above all.

He thought he was imagining it when just 5 minutes after stepping in the door, he heard the roar of Sam’s engine. He’d recognize it anywhere by now, a banging on the door confirmed his speculation shortly thereafter.

“They’re all gone, took the Impala too and a bunch of our old IDs and weaponry. They got into the locker room downstairs. Dad wants to just let them go, not press charges.”

“How about you?”

“I don’t know Dean, I mean alt-Sam was starting to grow on me. Almost figured he’d stick around, to be honest, seemed like a third wheel to his brother and that angel mate of his.”

“I’m not so sure about that Sam. Not after alt-Cas woke up, I think those three are closer than we think and if alt-Dean manages to overcome his reservations, they may just stand a chance.”

“I mean if he doesn’t get it after the stern talking to you’ve given him Mr. Smith I don’t know what will. I guess I need to accept that they are free to go and do as they please. It just, it was kinda nice to have more family around. I know we’re not actually related to them but some similarities were definitely there, not just appearance-wise.”

“You’re the only Winchester I really want though. So what are we gonna do with this school night evening? Should we be responsible and go to bed early?” Dean winked at him as he dragged Sam by the wrist past his front door and shut it behind them. He intended on irrevocably messing up his pedantically clean and organized apartment once and for all.

***

They took a joint shower that took far longer than it needed to but neither was in a hurry now that they were finally on their own. They could take the night to just be with each other for the first time.

Sam opened Dean up gently, running his tongue across his rim, probing with a curious finger alongside it, each touch dragging sensual moans from Dean who melted into the mattress beneath him.

His body moved and reacted like a fine-tuned instrument to all of Sam’s touches as he explored what Dean enjoyed and what made him gasp and moan. Pushing down onto Sam’s three fingers, gripping the bedding hard enough to create micro-tears in it.

A whimpered sigh tumbled from him when Sam pulled away his hand, lubed up his cock generously, and slid inside him one hard inch at a time. He made sure to give him time to adjust once he was fully seated in between his freckled cheeks. He gripped Dean’s hips, kneading at the supple flesh of his ass cheeks with his thumbs when he started moving. Sweet words of praise floated into Dean’s ears as he braced himself and slowly relaxed with each lazy thrust of Sam’s hips. “Hey I got you Dean, relax into it, not going to hurt you, I want you to see stars. So good for me, look at that beautiful back of yours, those freckles that go everywhere. Yeah, just like that.” Sam could feel Dean loosen up a bit around him, knew that moment as the one where he could kick it up a notch.

Love was too strong a word yet but he was getting there, the man beneath him was special to Sam and he wanted to take him apart lovingly and so thoroughly that he couldn’t remember how to say his own name. He made sure to hit Dean’s prostate on every thrust, still going at a leisurely pace, mesmerized by his length sinking into that tight wet heat of Dean’s before he prompted him to turn over, pulling out briefly to facilitate the position change.

He hoisted one of Dean’s legs up on his shoulders and lined himself up pushing forward into him again. Dean bit his lower lip as if trying in vain to hold back the sweet raspy moans that kept spilling forth. Sliding in a touch closer to Dean, Sam took his gorgeous cut cock in hand and stroked him in time with the movement of his hips. Swiftly losing coherency himself with how divine Dean felt around him. He wanted to be closer, more intimate, and bent Dean’s leg at the knee pushing it up high toward his chest, and lowered himself down bringing his chest flush with Dean’s. He laid down a trail of kisses from his nipples up the side of his throat which Dean willingly exposed further. Sam rewarded the submission with a playful bite, leaving behind a red mark that had him growling low in his throat, stoking a level of possessiveness he’d never felt over anyone before.

It continued much like this, their lips dancing for dominance and Dean’s long drawn-out groans swallowed up by Sam until they both came one after the other, the friction between their bellies enough to take Dean there while Sam filled him up hot and heavy a few seconds later.

The sticky mess between them ultimately prompted them to pull apart, Dean stayed where he was while Sam found pristine white hotel-quality towels in the en-suite. “Erm, do you have any other towels? These seem far too fancy to do a quick wipe down with.”

“Oh filthy them up Winchester, I’ve been living in this show home for far too long, it’s time to add some life to it all.”

Sam smiled at him, a cheeky, dimpled predatory smile that told Dean Smith that he was in for a ride.

To say they christened every viable surface that night would only be a slight overstatement. Dean would never look at his marble-covered kitchen island the same again.

***

They got text messages from alt-Sam and sometimes alt-Dean letting them know that they settled just across the border in Canada. All of them figured that two new versions of the Winchesters wouldn’t be too much for the hunter community of Canada.

Dean was saddened by the fact that the three of them dove right into it again. He had hoped for better for alt-Sam, for him to live his own life. However, he didn’t know him or the relationship with his brother well enough. More parts of it came together with every phone call they had and emails they would write once in a while.

For Sam and Dean life had been good, the seal held per Rowena’s messages. There appeared to be no repercussions from Heaven or Hell over having duplicate humans and angels in the world. Well, the Heaven part was a bit of an assumption since no news was usually good news as far as the celestial powers upstairs were concerned. John and Sam figured that Jack was aware but they weren’t going to ask if it truly was okay, better not to poke a sleeping bear.

After a few months of officially dating, Dean decided it was time to try living together if Sam was up for it. Smith had been cautious and careful his entire life but the events over the recent weeks and months caused a perspective change in him. He was of an age where he didn’t want to waste any time on flings and given that Sam stayed over every day except Sundays’ spoke of how close they’d grown.

Sunday nights were reserved for family roast dinners at John’s. A tradition they had started a few years ago to try and anchor themselves in normal post-hunting life. Except now the invite included Dean.

To say Sam was up for moving in together was an understatement. He moved his sparse belongings from his furnished studio apartment and gave his landlord notice that very night. To celebrate officially living together they made sweet love to one another, ending with Sam finally returning the “I love you” that Dean had let slip a few weeks prior. Smith knew it was worth the wait because there was emotion and sincerity behind it, the same that his had been powered by.

They lived at Dean’s place for a couple months longer and found that while they each had their quirks, they were far less important than the companionship and quality time they gained. It was Dean who ultimately suggested that they should get a new place together because as much as he opened his doors and space to Sam it still never felt like theirs truly.

***

A one-level detached home with burgundy siding, a darkly varnished front porch, window frames, and a front door similar in style to John’s, was what they ended up choosing. They signed a half-inch stack of paperwork to seal the deal with the mortgage broker and the real estate agent who was tickled pink about selling to them. Sitting on their porch in two rocking chairs like two old men enjoying a couple bottles of beer was how they began the night in their new home. It felt right on all accounts and Sam was looking forward to the good life, a solid non-hunter life with Dean.

The student body wholly approved of their relationship. Dean more than once was approached by a student who wasn’t too sure they could talk to their parents about coming out. It added a whole layer to his professional persona that was irrefutably linked to him personally now. Slowly no longer a mask he put on but someone he truly felt at home in as time went on.

5 Months Later

Sam and Dean had just settled in under a fleece blanket, each with their respective e-readers in hand to do some cozy reading by the fireplace after a busy day at school. The nights were getting colder the closer they got toward Christmas time and while Dean wasn’t much for the old-fashioned wood-burning fireplace at first he had come around. Sam had decorated the living room entirely on his own while Dean was away at a teacher’s conference a few cities over for just 48 hours shortly after they’d just moved in.

The fluffy cream-colored rug in front of the corner couch in dark forest green with birchwood polished feet looked so inviting after a weekend of listening to a big wig in academia drone on about lesson planning and the benefits of a new teaching structure. That night, it was Dean who showed Sam just how much he appreciated him. He plied his strong, tall body with knowing touches, kisses, and more until Sam was left a shuddering, beautifully debauched mess. The bedding was torn into ribbons where fingers had clenched too hard.

Tonight, however, was not about that, they had both had a taxing day at school and just needed some alone time escapism into the respective books they were reading while still spending time in the same room. They’d both lived independent lives before all this and found each other’s wants and needs through communication, trial, and error until they synched up and were thriving. Their sum total as a couple was far more than each of them on their own in terms of personal growth and richness they added to each other’s life.

The knock on the door was aggressive and urgent, jumpscaring Dean into dropping his reader, while Sam was on his feet, his gun ready in his hand. He had grabbed it from the underside of the coffee table where he had installed a velcro bracket for it. Dean followed him to the door a few steps behind him. The next knock wasn’t as vehement but still audible. Sam looked through the peephole and opened the door with a confused but no longer alarmed look on his face.

With just a few seconds to react they both caught alt-Sam as he collapsed into their arms folding like a house of cards. He was a shadow of his former self, far too slim for his frame with bags under his eyes that made him look far older than he was. Beneath the ratty purple and blue plaid shirt that hung loosely off of him like on a clothes hanger, they both felt nothing but skin and bones.

“Sam, whoa, hey… ok, we gotcha.”

Sam ultimately got both of his arms underneath alt-Sam’s armpits and heaved him up against himself, chest against chest. The ease with which he was able to do that concerned him. Alt-Sam’s head was resting on his shoulder, facing away from his neck. Dean walked around to that side and softly tucked the greasy and dirty hair that had fallen into his eyes behind his ears.

“Talk to us Sam, what’s going on?”

“He… he found us,” he gasped, voice barely there and weak before he passed out entirely.

The End