So I read another story about an AU where Mary wasn't killed by a demon, it was just a fire, and John went insane and thought that monsters were real. I liked that idea so much that I decided to write my own version of how I think things should have gone if that had happened. The original idea goes to Cappoquin's Calling and the story is called When There's No Hope Left, but this story is mine. If they see this and feel like it's too much like theirs, I'm sorry, think of this as my fanfic of your story. But really, I tried to make it as different as possible. I made the boys older; I made them act differently, but not so much that they aren't the same character; I made John a background character that only has flashback-type scenes; I really did try to make it different. Also, this is about current season for Criminal Minds. You'll see why later on.

Fresh from the desk of a twelfth grade nothing.

Enjoy and review!

It was a trail, left behind so that someone might be able to catch him. Most killers wanted to be caught, at least subconsciously, and this one was no different. He had seemed surprised as they cornered him, but he had been arrested with only a minimum of fuss. They only had to check his motel room for remaining evidence. Jennifer "J.J." Jareau only hoped that there weren't any bodies hidden in the room.

That was when her phone rang. Not that it was a huge inconvenience, because they were just checking out the room, but it was something the team all stopped at.

"Garcia, we're about to go in, what's up?" she asked. She was worried the UnSub had confessed to booby trapping the room and technical analyst Penelope Garcia was calling to tell them that they would get shot if they went in (stranger things had happened with a crazy UnSub).

"The reports!" Garcia exclaimed. "I missed it before, and I don't know how, but all the people who escaped didn't just get lucky and happen to get away! They were let go! One specifically says that there was a partner!" J.J. had put her phone on speaker so that the rest of the team could hear her.

"A partner? How did we miss that?" Derek Morgan demanded.

"He's male according to the reports. Some imply that they were let go, but they don't state it for sure and they just say 'he' so everyone assumed 'he' was the UnSub," she elaborated. "The one that specifically mentions him says that he told her to run and said he would try to hold the other man off. That was Christina Wilkens' report. She said that he wasn't as big as the other man, and seemed much more hesitant to attack."

"So it's an unwilling partner, but he still has to help," Spencer Reid said. "Maybe he's a prisoner too, except, instead of being killed, he has to help."

"Does the Winchester have a son?" Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner asked. His colleagues followed his thinking.

"A son would feel obligated to do what his father says," Reid commented, "and he might even be scared to disobey his father, so he helps."

"But he still knows it's wrong, so he tries to help people escape whenever he can," David Rossi added.

"Our guy has two sons; ages eleven and fifteen," Garcia said.

"It's probably the fifteen-year-old," Reid said. "He'd be bigger, but still not as big as his father. He'd also be more willing to help if that meant protecting the younger brother."

"Where's the mother?" Alex Blake spoke up.

"Dead," Garcia said. "House fire in '83."

"The older boy would have been four," Reid informed them. "He might have even seen it happen and tries to keep his father happy because he's the only parent left."

"What are their names?" Blake asked.

"Older boy is Dean younger boy is Sam," Garcia said before hanging up.

"Dean was trying to get his dad caught," J.J. said.

"He wants this to be over," Hotch agreed.

"So it's a cry for help," J.J. said. The others shared looks of agreement and they moved to enter the motel room. They pulled their guns, because nobody knew what they would find on the other side of that door, and announced that they were FBI. Rossi slowly opened the door. Standing in the room was a tall, well-muscled but still lanky, young man with a smaller boy hiding behind him.

"Dean? Your name is Dean, right?" J.J. asked gently. "And that's Sam?" At Sam's name, Dean's eyes widened slightly and he took a step back to protect the boy a little more.

"Sammy," Dean said. His voice was low and clam, but his eyes were wide and terrified. He also wasn't talking to them.

"Go."

"Dean –"

"Go," Dean said. His voice wasn't loud, but it was definitely an order. "They'll keep you safe." Dean's bright green eyes bore into J.J.'s light blue eyes; he demanded her promise of safety with his gaze.

"Dean's right." J.J. nodded. "You're safe with us." Dean reached behind his back and gave Sam a little push towards them.

"Come on Sam, it's okay." Rossi called out. Sam was about a foot away from Rossi's hand when he darted back to Dean and wrapped his arms tightly around his big brother's abdomen. Dean hugged him back. They let go and Dean cupped Sam's cheek and urged him to go with them.

"You'll be safe with them, Sammy. You'll be able to go to school again, and you can have a real family," Dean said. J.J. didn't miss the tears that shined bright in his eyes as he said these things.

"You're my real family," Sam said stubbornly.

"And I'll be right behind you," Dean said.

"Promise?"

"Promise." Sam nodded and turned around, walking to Rossi again. Rossi left the room with Sam as the young boy forced himself to believe that Dean hadn't lied about coming with him. Dean had been different for the past couple of months, distant, unresponsive, and sometimes catatonic. Sam had been wondering if maybe Dean finally broke like he told Sam he might after his first hunt with dad.

J.J. watched as Dean's slouched position straightened and his shoulders squared. The agents had their guns lowered, but not put away, and J.J. took a step towards Dean.

"Your safe now, Dean," she told him. "Everything's gonna be okay."

"No it's not." Dean said, giving a bitter laugh. Then, from seemingly nowhere, Dean pulled out an ivory handled, silver, polished pistol. He pointed it at a spot just above J.J.'s head, a spot where he wouldn't hurt anyone. This fact did not escape J.J.'s notice. He didn't want to hurt them, he just wanted their attention and for them to listen.

"That's a Colt M1911 A1. It's .45 caliber, standard with 7-round magazine capacity." Blake informed everyone.

"I'm not going with him," Dean told them, "I can't."

"Why do you say that?" J.J. asked, keeping her voice low and nonthreatening, even though the gun was aimed at her. Dean wasn't an angry subject, he was just upset. He seemed calm though; his gun hand wasn't shaking and he didn't look at all nervous about having four guns pointed at him (Rossi was still with Sam and J.J. had lowered her gun to the ground in an attempt to get him to do the same).

"Cause he hasn't done anything," Dean said. "I never let Dad take him on hunts."

"You haven't done anything either." J.J. reminded him. "You've saved a lot of people, most of them thought that you were coming after them once you let them go, but instead you took the punishment for losing them."

"You're wrong." Dean shook his head. He had tears nearly spilling down his face at this point. "I killed them."

"Who?"

"Marla Johnson, Dave Nells, and Jacob Wiler." Dean rattled off three names. "I can tell you exactly what they looked like. I can tell you what they last ate. I can tell you how they screamed, how they begged me to let them go, whose names they screamed out." Dean was working himself up now, tears openly sliding down his face, but his gun hand never wavered; the gun never moved at all.

"You didn't want to kill them, did you Dean?" Dean's eyes connected with hers and she could see the despair and the hopelessness he was feeling.

"He made me," Dean whispered. "I couldn't help them."

"And if you hadn't done what he told you to do?"

"He would have killed me or he would have hurt Sammy." Dean shook his head as if he was trying to clear it. "I couldn't let him hurt Sammy. I had to keep him safe."

There it was. Dean's soft spot was Sammy. He didn't see a way out for himself, but he had to get Sam out. That's what made him start leaving the trail. J.J. could also see that Dean had lost all reason to go on except for Sam.

"He still needs you," she said. Dean shook his head again. He lowered the gun for a split second before he placed the muzzle under his own chin, pointing up.

"No one needs me," Dean said. "That's what Dad always tells me. He always says I can never do anything right."

"He's wrong," J.J. said.

"No he's not," Dean retorted. "I always screw everything up."

"Dean, you helped us find you. You took good care of Sam. You saved so many people." She gave him a hesitant smile. He closed his eyes and she took the opportunity to get a couple of steps closer.

"Just put the gun down, Dean."

"I can't stop seeing them," he whispered. "They won't go away."

"I'm so sorry, Dean." She took another step closer.

"Make them go away." He opened his eyes again and looked like a lost little kid.

"I can't promise anything, Dean," she said, "But I can try. I just need you to put the gun down." She was three steps away. Now she was two.

"Give me the gun, Dean." He shook his head. One step away.

"I can't do it anymore. I'm not strong enough," he said softly. She was close enough at this point to make a grab for the gun. He was only fifteen, but he was just taller than her and he was already muscular. She reached out and grabbed the pistol, wrapping her hand around the cool metal cylinder with intricate carvings. She easily pulled it from his grip and tossed it onto the bed nearby. She caught Dean as he crumpled against her, sobbing.

"'m sorry. 'm sorry. 'm sorry," he whispered through his sobs. She held him and rubbed his back soothingly.

"Shh, it's okay," she whispered back. She held his shaking frame and wondered just how long this young man had struggled to keep himself safe from his own mind. "Everything's okay now."

None of the three people Dean had named had any family left. She had given the names to Garcia, and that was the information she had found. Dean had all but shut down after the scene in the motel room. Other than insisting that he should be handcuffed and locked up, he hadn't responded to anything anyone said or did. She had refused to let anyone put him in a cell, settling instead for an interrogation room. Sam was in a break room with Rossi and Blake and he was demanding to see his brother. When Blake had caught up with them, Sam asked where Dean was and she only told him that Dean was safe. This led to Sam not believing her and saying that they'd killed him when all he'd done was protect Sam. Sam had then started crying and had gone as silent as his older brother. He didn't seem to know that Dean had killed anyone, which jived with Dean's actions of protecting Sam before himself. He knew what their dad had done – or at least he had a general idea – and he knew that Dean had kept him as far away as possible. J.J. could feel her heart breaking for both boys as she walked to the interrogation room where Dean was currently residing. He didn't look up as she came in.

"Dean," she started, "no one is prosecuting you. As long as you testify or give a statement about what your dad did, you and Sam are free to go." He looked up at the last part, breaking out of his catatonic reprieve.

"Why?"

"Because what happened wasn't your fault, you aren't likely to do it again, and no one blames you for anything you had to do to stay alive," she said, counting things off on her fingers. "I talked with the judge, prosecutor, and defense attorney. They've all agreed that you've been through hell and nobody wants you to go to jail." She pulled out keys for the handcuffs and unlocked them.

"No one blames you," she said again.

"I do."

"Sammy doesn't know. We didn't tell him."

"Good, he doesn't need to know."

"Dean, do you know what's going to happen now?" she asked. She didn't doubt his intelligence, but this was an unfamiliar world he was being thrown into. He looked at her, his bright green eyes showing his confusion.

"You and Sam will be going into foster care," she told him, careful not to let her emotions seep into her voice. Foster care could be cruel, and these two had already been through so much that J.J.'s 'mom senses' were going into overdrive and telling her to never let these boys out of her sight.

"You won't be separated; the state isn't allowed to do that." She reached over and took one of his hands in her own. He looked surprised by the action, but he didn't pull his rough, calloused hand away from her small smooth hand.

"Dean, foster care is far from a perfect solution. Some people will foster a lot of kids to get more money and then they'll neglect those kids. Some people will foster kids so that they get money and a punching bag as a bonus. Some people will do terrible things to the kids they're supposed to take care of," she warned him. "I'm counting on you; keep yourself and your brother safe."

Dean nodded.

"I'll keep him safe," he promised her.

"If you ever get to a home where things are really bad, call me and I'll see what I can do," she said, slipping a business card into his hand.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, looking at the card then back at her.

"Because I want to help you, Dean," she said. "A social worker will be in in a minute." She stood. She walked around the table and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm always here if you need me," she said. She gave his shoulder a squeeze and she forced herself to walk away before she changed her mind.

Six Months Later

She was worried, but that was nothing new. He hadn't called or anything, she just always worried about them. Usually, she was able to push it aside, but today she had a feeling in her gut that he was in trouble. She frowned as she thought of all the things that could be happening to one or both of those boys.

"Hello," Garcia said, waving a hand in front of her face. "Earth to J.J.!"

"Oh, sorry, must have just zoned out for a minute," she said, forcing the frown off of her face. She was sitting with Garcia in the computer guru's office, surrounded by monitors and knick-knacks.

"Hey, you okay?" her friend asked.

"I'm just worried about the boys." J.J. nodded. Garcia, who had had multiple conversations about them with J.J., knew exactly who she was talking about.

"I know they're probably fine, but I just…"

"Got a bad feeling?" Garcia finished.

"Yeah." The two were silent until J.J.'s phone rang, breaking the calm air.

"Hello?" Silence answered her. Garcia looked at her questioningly and she shrugged in response.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Please…" They heard a voice, male, young, but not high pitched, injured sounding.

"Please… don't…" The slapping sound of a belt against flesh and a cry of pan that broke J.J.'s heart kicked both women into gear.

"Shut up, boy!" an angry, older, male voice shouted.

"Garcia, trace this call." J.J. stood, feeling her blood begin to rush. Garcia, jumping into action on the nearest monitor, not only traced the call, but recorded it as well.

"Muncie, Indiana. I have the address and I'm sending in the local LEOs," Garcia reported.

"Who lives there?" J.J. demanded.

"A Harold Kepborn."

"Any kids?"

"Two foster sons."

"Named?" Garcia was silent. "Garcia!"

"Samuel and Dean Colt." J.J. froze. The Winchester case had been all over the news, so they hadn't been able to use their real names. They had instead put them in under the last name Colt.

"I gave my number to Dean." J.J. started pacing.

"They've been living here almost the whole time they've been in the system."

"And this probably isn't the first time Harold has gotten violent," J.J. growled. The call had been ended almost immediately after Garcia tracked it, but now J.J.'s phone rang again.

"Hello?" she said, not allowing for her voice to carry any of the emotions that she was currently feeling.

"Are you J.J.?" a young boy's voice asked her. "Dean made me memorize your number. He said to call you if there was an emergency."

"Sam?"

"Yeah. We need help." J.J. though he sounded like he was near tears. "He's gonna kill Dean."

"What happened, Sam? Where are you?"

"He was really mad and Dean shoved me out the door and he locked it and wouldn't let me back in. Then I heard yelling and I heard him hit Dean and Dean never fights back. I think he's gonna kill Dean. I'm at a payphone a couple of blocks away." J.J. relayed this to Garcia and thought to herself that the twelve year old was probably worried sick about his older brother. Garcia was nodding to herself and informing the cops who had arrived at Kepborn's house.

"Sam, the police are at your house, they should be coming to you any minute now. Don't worry, they'll take care of Dean," she told him. "Just stay on the phone with me until they get to you."

"Okay," Sam whimpered. Within the minute, she heard a siren.

"J.J.?" another male voice asked.

"Yes?"

"I'm Officer Stan Epson. Sam is safe with me. Dean is on his way to the hospital. It looks pretty bad just by glancing into the house." The officer was obviously reluctant to speak freely with Sam nearby. "If you're as close as I get the feeling you are, you might want to get out here."

"I'm on my way, officer, thank you."

"Not a problem," he said. "We've also arrested Mr. Kepborn."

"Glad to hear it," she said. She said goodbye and hung up.

"It looks bad," she told Garcia. "I have to go make sure they're okay."

"Go." Garcia nodded. "I'll tell the boss man what happened."

"You're a life-saver." Garcia laughed, although it sounded somewhat forced, and J.J. darted out the door.

A few hours later, J.J.'s plane touched down and she snagged a cab to the hospital Garcia had told her about. She had, somewhat illegally, found the hospital where Dean had been admitted. At that hospital, J.J. demanded to know what room Dean was in from the bored looking nurse at the station.

"His name is Dean Colt. He was brought in by the paramedics after a domestic disturbance call."

"Only family is allowed," the woman informed her nonchalantly.

"How about you just tell me what room he's in because I'm as close to family as he's got except for his brother." J.J. held out her badge as she growled at the nurse.

"Room 240." The nurse wasn't bored anymore, now she looked scared. For once, J.J. had no qualms about frightening someone. She rushed down the hall until she got to the right room. When she stepped inside, it was deathly silent. Dean lay nearly unrecognizable on the pristine white bed. His head had a bandage around it, both of his hands were wrapped in gauze, his left arm was in a sling, and he was only wearing scrubs on his bottoms because his chest was a mess of bloody gauze wrappings and bruises trying to hide underneath of the bandages. His ribs were wrapped tightly and the left side of his face was dark with bruises.

"Oh Dean," she sighed. She walked over to the side of the bed and gently ran her fingers along his discolored bicep. He was sedated, so he didn't wake up as J.J. sat down in the chair beside him. She was still sitting in that chair when Sam was led in by a police officer. She suspected they had finished getting his statement and double checking the facts over the couple of hours since she had left Quantico.

"Officer Epson?" she asked, standing up and holding out a hand.

"Yes, ma'am." The man nodded. "I just took Sam to get some food."

"I remember you," Sam said. "You're with the FBI. You're the lady that talked with Dean."

"Yes, and I told Dean that he could call me anytime he needed me."

"FBI?" Epson asked.

"Yes, I'm agent Jareau with the Behavioral Analysis Unit," she said.

"Then I guess I'm leaving Sam in good hands."

"He's safe with me," she said. "They both are."

"I hope your brother gets better," the officer said. He waved his goodbye to J.J. and was gone. J.J. took a good look at Sam and saw that he was about to fall apart.

"Come here, Sam," she said. She held her arms open and Sam came closer. She reached out and hugged him tight.

"Dean is strong, he'll fight his way back," she told him.

"Promise?" Sam's childlike voice was slightly muffled by her sweatshirt.

"I promise." She nodded. She pulled away and cupped his cheek.

"Sam, how would you feel about living with me?"

"For how long?" Sam asked.

"As long as you want."

"Do you mean you want to foster us?" Sam asked, his big hazel eyes meeting hers.

"I mean, I want to adopt you both," she said. Sam looked over at his brother, thinking about everything Dean had told him about the bad people in the world. Then he thought about everything Dean had told him about this woman.

"Dean said that you were the nicest person he'd met since mom died. He said that you were one of maybe five people since then that was actually nice to him and treated him with any respect. He said that just about everyone else he ever met treated him like a criminal or a pathetic little kid," Sam said. "He really liked you. He said that you reminded him of mom." J.J. watched Sam very carefully.

"I don't wanna make a decision without him, but I think he'll be okay with it." The twelve year old smiled at her. She smiled back and sat down in the chair again.

"You look tired," she observed. "Come here." She held her arms open again and Sam crawled onto her lap. He was kind of scrawny and small for his age, so he was about the right size. He laid his head on her shoulder and she wrapped her arms around him.

"You know, I have a son back home," she said. "His name is Henry."

"How old is he?" Sam asked.

"Almost five."

"If you adopt us, can Dean and I teach him things?"

"Well…"

"I mean, Dean always teaches me stuff. He always has. Stuff like how to read and write, how to play card tricks, things like that. I wanna be able to teach someone else stuff for once."

"In that case…" she said, dragging it out. "Why not?" Sam sighed in content and closed his eyes. He was asleep within seconds. J.J. smiled and leaned her cheek against his forehead.

"Don't worry, Sam," J.J. murmured. "You aren't the only one with someone watching out for you. I'll take care of both of you." She sighed and closed her eyes. She quickly opened them again when she got the feeling that someone was watching her. She looked over to see a pair of dull green eyes watching her holding Sam. Dean reached out a shaky, bandaged hand. She reached out her own hand and took his in hers. She saw a tear sliding down his face.

"I tried," he rasped. His voice was so quiet, she almost didn't hear him.

"I know, honey," she said softly. "You did your best."

"Couldn't…let him…hurt…Sammy."

"I know. I'm so proud of you, sweetheart," she told him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Now go back to sleep." He blinked tired, drugged eyes at her, his long lashes damp with tears, before he allowed himself to sleep.

When Dean woke up, he didn't remember where he was. He looked around wildly and tried to sit up before the pain all over his body made him stay still. He looked over and his gaze settled on Sam, easily calming his nerves. Sam was sleeping peacefully, so Dean figured it was as safe as it got. He looked at the woman who was holding Sam on her lap. He remembered her being there when he was kind-of-awake-but-not-really, but figured she was part of his imagination; she looked a little like his mom and she had helped him so he figured he had just wanted her there. He thought he had dreamed her telling him that he did good. She yawned and stretched a bit as she started to wake up. When she noticed he was awake, she smiled at him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," she grinned.

"Sammy okay?"

"Thanks to you." She nodded at him. They were silent for a minute.

"'m sorry."

"For what?"

"For not calling sooner." Dean shrugged one shoulder. "I thought I could handle him on my own."

"This isn't your fault, Dean," J.J. said. She could see the self-loathing in his eyes and was reminded of when they first met. He obviously hadn't gotten better since then, and it was a wonder he was even still standing – figuratively – what with the life he'd had in the last six months.

"You were in a bad situation and did what you could to survive. Nobody can blame you for that."

"I can," Dean said, nearly echoing another conversation they had had. "I had a way out, but I didn't use it."

"Dean, you never have to go back," J.J. said.

"What do you mean?"

"I want to adopt you both. I have a friend who's helping my husband get the paperwork handled as we speak." It was true. Garcia had called just before she had gone to sleep to tell her that Will and her were taking care of the adoption papers.

"You want to adopt us?"

"Yes." She nodded. "You'll come live with me in Quantico, and you and Sam will be safe and loved." Dean looked at her skeptically.

"I've heard that promise before," he said, shaking his head.

"From and FBI agent?"

"…no."

"Have I ever lied to you Dean?"

"Well…no."

"Dean, I will do my best to never lie to you," J.J. told him.

"Never?" Dean raised an eyebrow at her.

"Never," she affirmed.

"I won't make any promises…"

"But you'll give me a shot?"

"I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking."

"What'd Sam say when you asked him?"

"He's excited," J.J. grinned, "mostly because he wants to start teaching my son things."

"What sort of things?"

"The things he learned from you." She shrugged.

"What?" Dean was shocked.

"Believe it or not, you're a great big brother," she told him. "You're his hero."

"No I'm not."

"Um, yeah, you are."

"Why would I be?" Dean asked.

"You told me, in that motel room, that you weren't strong enough," She said. "Do you think a weak man could have taken care of his little brother for nearly eleven years while being subjected to the things that you saw when you were growing up? Do you think a weak man could survive abuse from his father, take care of his little brother, and leave a trail to stop his father from killing other people? Do you think a weak man could have taken daily beatings and abuse for nearly six months just so that his little brother never had to feel that pain? It's a wonder Sam doesn't worship the ground you walk on." J.J. shook her head at him. "Dean, you are so much more than you think you are. You're not perfect or innocent anymore; you're 'damaged goods', but you're still here. I don't doubt that you had opportunities here in Indiana, and plenty back when you were with your father, to end all the pain you were going through. You kept fighting though, and I couldn't be more pleased with that. You've got some healing to do, but something tells me that as long as you've got Sam, and a family to support you, you'll be just fine in the end." Dean was silent.

"Honey, you're the strongest person I've ever met."

"Sam's gonna wake up soon," he said. "He's gonna be hungry."

"Will you not do anything stupid if I take him to get food?" she asked, being completely straight with him.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." He nodded to her.

"I'm gonna trust you here," she said, as Sam started to wake up.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Dean said, smirking.

"Mmmm." J.J. laughed at Sam's sleepy expression.

"Come on, Sam," J.J. said, "let's go get some breakfast." She stood up, carefully dumping Sam off of her lap, and gently pulled him along with her towards the cafeteria. She looked back at Dean just before exiting the room. His eyes had closed and he had a content look on his face. His breathing deepened as the drugs kicked back in. J.J. smiled and silently promised to make sure he knew just how unbelievably amazing he was.

After a week in the hospital, Dean was going stir crazy. He had opened up to her a little, but she had listened in on more than one conversation between him and Sam. Dean was usually pretty soft spoken with her, and he never spoke at all to the nurses or doctors, but when it was just the two brothers, he would laugh and joke and make comments about the things Sam said and did. She had discovered from these conversations that Dean was very sarcastic and had a witty comment for just about everything. The boy could certainly be charming when he wanted to be, and she had told Garcia as much. She enjoyed listening to the friendly banter.

After another week, Dean was told that he could be discharged. He was jittery all day, which J.J. attributed to his not knowing anything about where he was going. When they walked through the front door of her house, they were immediately greeted by Will and Henry. Dean seemed hesitant to go further with the sight of Will, but trusted J.J. to take care of them. J.J. was worried, however, because Dean hadn't said a word since they left the hospital.

That same evening, J.J. found that she couldn't sleep. Falling back on her usual remedy – because this happened a lot with her job being the way it was – she went downstairs and clicked on the TV to watch some mindless sitcom. She was still sprawled on the couch when she heard someone come up almost silently behind the couch. She turned to look at whoever it was, somehow knowing it was Dean. Her intuition didn't disappoint her.

"Can't sleep?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Come here." She sat up straight and patted the couch beside her. He said nothing, but he did sit down with her. They sat in silence for a while; J.J. didn't pressure him, instead she waited for him to speak.

"No."

"No, what?" she asked gently.

"No, I can't sleep," he murmured.

"Neither can I. I have these nights sometimes," she agreed. He didn't say anything else. After what she estimated to be an hour, she felt a slight weight on her shoulder. She looked over to see that he had fallen asleep and was slumped against her. She smiled a little before rousing him just enough.

"Dean, your back is gonna be killing you tomorrow if you sleep like this." She spoke softly and his eyes opened a little, but she could tell that he was still asleep. She moved him gently so that he was lying down with his head in her lap. She ran a hand through his hair and was rewarded with a content sigh from him. She smiled and leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes.

When she woke up around seven o clock, Dean was still sleeping. She took a moment to really look at him. He looked peaceful here. In the hospital, even when he was sleeping, he looked restless. Sam had mentioned something about Dean hating hospitals – which she could completely understand - and figured that Dean was more comfortable now than he'd ever be in a hospital. She managed to slip from under his head without waking him up and went to the kitchen as quietly as she could. She started the coffee maker and supposed that that would be a much better way to wake him up. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Dean stumbled in, blearily rubbing sleep from his eyes. She held out a cup to him and stifled her laugh at his appearance.

"Black?" she asked. He nodded and grunted his approval. He took the cup in both hands and drank the scalding liquid, letting out a little moan – something else she had to force herself not to laugh at. He leaned back against a counter.

"You always up this early?" he asked, opening one bright green eye to look at her.

"Nope," she smiled, sometimes I get even earlier." He groaned.

"I take it you aren't a morning person?"

"God, no." He grinned at her. "But Sammy should be up soon enough."

"So he's the morning person."

"Yeah, but I always told him to stay in bed until I woke up or until I came and got him."

"Why don't you go see if he's awake while I get started on breakfast?" she suggested, sensing his new unease at letting that statement come out. He obviously hadn't meant to tell her that and I made her wonder what dangers had awaited them each morning and for how long said dangers had been hanging over her boys. Dean nodded and set the mug down on the counter before disappearing up the stairs.

When he got upstairs, he walked down the hall until he got to the room Sam was in. He didn't knock – just in case Sam was still sleeping – and he opened the door soundlessly. Sam seemed to be just waking up…excellent. Surprised by his own good mood, but not willing to look a gift-horse in the mouth, Dean grinned at the idea that popped into his head. He silently crossed the room and pounced on the bed. Sam gave a small yelp as Dean landed on him, but he relaxed as he recognized his brother.

"What the heck, Dean!" Sam scolded his brother. Dean was laughing, though. Loud and clear and happy. Dean hadn't laughed in a long time, so he wasn't really upset with him. If Dean was happy, Sam was happy.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, curious as to why Dean was in such a good mood. He had his suspicions, but wanted to be sure. Dean was currently lying on his back laughing his ass off at Sam's reaction.

"Your face," Dean managed to say, "You should have seen your face." Dean managed to get a hold on himself and immediately jumped on Sam again, this time reaching for Sam's ticklish stomach. Sam squirmed and tried – unsuccessfully – to get away.

"Dean!" Sam begged.

"Not until you say it!" Dean grinned, tickling his baby brother mercilessly.

"Never!" Sam said defiantly.

"Have it your way." Dean said, faking sympathy.

"Okay! Okay!"

"Say it!" Dean growled playfully.

"You're the best brother ever and no brother could ever compare!" Dean stopped tickling Sam and collapsed on the bed beside him.

"Jerk," Sam huffed.

"Bitch." Dean grinned at Sam.

"Should you be doing stuff like that with your ribs still messed up?"

"What are you – twelve going on twenty?"

"Dean, I'm serious."

"Hi, serious, I'm Remus."

"Now is not the time for Harry Potter references."

"Probably a good thing since they're both dead."

"Dean."

"I'm fine, Sam." Sam sighed in response and counted it as a win when Dean didn't push him away. He cuddled as close as he could because he knew that Dean wouldn't be in a 'cuddling mood' for long. Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders and held his little brother tightly to his side.

"J.J.'s making breakfast downstairs."

"I figured; I can smell the coffee." Dean tilted his head so that his cheek rested on Sam's forehead. Sam breathed in his familiar scent and listened to the beating of Dean's heart. After a couple of minutes, Dean grew restless again. He jumped up and pulled Sam up with him.

"Come on, I'm starving!" He grinned.

"When aren't you starving?" Sam asked rhetorically. Dean just continued to grin in response. As Sam followed his little brother downstairs, he thought about their lives. They had a chance here, a chance for a good life. Family had many meanings, but the simplest was that family was people who only wanted to see you happy, and they would always be there for you. They would both be okay now.

As he went down the stairs, he looked out the window and was surprised to see two men watching the house. One was wearing nondescript clothes and holding what appeared to be a lollipop, and the other man was wearing a suit and a trench coat and his tie was backwards. Both were smiling slightly and, as soon as Sam saw them, they started to walk away. Sam didn't know why, but he wasn't scared when he saw them. He felt oddly comforted, but he shrugged and continued downstairs.

It looked like life was finally looking up for them, and that was just what Sam always dreamed of.

Fin

For now.

I swear, I didn't originally intend for Gabriel and Castiel to be there at the end, it just seemed like a good idea. I think that if they could find a way to put them in another reality to spare them from the terrible things in their adult lives, they would. They won't be seen by either Winchester boy ever again, they just wanted to make sure the boys were finally happy.

Now, this is only the first part. I will be writing additional "chapters", but they'll definitely be a lot shorter than this. Any suggestions as to what those should be about are welcome and appreciated.

Hugs and kisses for anyone who reviews!

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Until next time, farewell my darlings.