A Little More Tequila, A Little Less Demon Hunting

– – Epilogue – –

More than Enough

One year later…

Dean sighed and closed his eyes. He'd been sitting in his car for awhile now, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel and staring off into space.

He opened his eyes and looked at his watch, wondering how long he had been sitting there in the car, and he sighed again and sank down further in his seat. He took his hand off the wheel and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He continued to stare out the windshield, squinting his eyes against the bright, harsh glare of the mid-afternoon sun.

It had been one year. One whole year since that horrible night. One long year since his father had come barreling back into his life after a decade's glorious absence, only to tear his world out from under him yet again. One year since Dean had nearly lost his life to his father's hands.

One year since he had killed his father.

One year since he had watched his little brother slowly bleed to death on the kitchen floor.

Dean stopped staring out the window, and he closed his eyes, his mind wandering into visions of that night. The fear wrought by Sam's phone call, telling him to leave…the life being choked out of him…his brother throwing their father across the room without touching him…Sam's vision…his father raising a gun toward Sam…standing up in front of Sam to protect him one final time…shooting his father…holding Sam's bleeding body close as his brother faded away on the floor, leaving him alone in the world.…

Suddenly, Dean shot up in his seat with a shout, his eyes flinging open as a loud honking noise filled the car. His head crashed into the ceiling, and he cursed loudly, rubbing at it.

Beside him, Sam laughed.

"Oh man, you should have seen your face, Dean," Sam said, grinning widely as he shook his head, tears of laughter lighting up his eyes.

Dean groaned, rubbing at his sore head. "Jesus, Sam, you scared me to death," he said, and despite the pain in his head and the embarrassment he felt at being caught of guard by his little brother's joke, he couldn't help the smile that lit up his face.

"Oh, poor baby," Sam said with a mock look of sadness. "Poor Deanie scared of a little noise?" he asked in a babyish voice, and Dean's smile grew into a grin as he let go of his head and smacked his brother lightly on the arm.

"Owww," Sam whined in mock pain. "Jerk," he said playfully, rubbing at his arm.

"Yeah well, you deserve it for trying to scare me like that," Dean said, laughing lightly at the moment. "I'll get you back, just you wait," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Sam just laughed. "I got the food," he said, holding up a plastic bag bulging with snacks.

"'Bout time," Dean said, grabbing the bag out of Sam's hands. "Please tell me you got…oh thank god," he moaned, and he pulled out a giant bag of Peanut M&M's. "You're my hero, Sam," he said, batting his ridiculously long eyelashes at his brother playfully.

Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes. "You're ridiculous, Dean," Sam said, smiling.

"Yeah, you know you love me, Sammy," Dean said, and he reached out and ruffled Sam's hair, making the already messy locks even messier. Sam swatted at his hand, and Dean laughed, breaking open the bag, taking a handful of M&M's, and stuffing a few in his mouth.

Sam just smiled and shook his head again. "It's Sam," he said, correcting his brother for the millionth time.

"Yeah, I know, Sammy," Dean said around the mouthful of peanuty chocolate mess in his mouth.

"Whatever, dude," Sam said, rolling his eyes and reaching into the bag for some pretzels. "Ready to hit the road?"

"You bet," Dean replied, finally swallowing the giant mess in his mouth. He popped a few more M&M's in, started the car, pulled out of the gas station, and headed toward the interstate.

Dean stole a quick glance at his brother. Sam munched on his pretzels next to him, gazing out the window and watching the scenery, or lack thereof, roll by. Dean smiled and turned his gaze back to the road.

Sam hadn't died that day. He had come horribly close to it though…too close. The doctors had called it a miracle…a strong will to live…love. Dean didn't know what to call it, but he had been eternally grateful for it.

While Sam was in the hospital recovering, the police had asked him about what had happened. Dean told them only about what had happened that night. He told them nothing about the long, hard past they had shared with their father. He didn't feel it was their business.

The police had visited their father's house. He had been living in the same place that Sam and Dean had left him. The police discovered all kinds of weird things in the house: newspaper clippings, diaries his father had written discussing his desire to find his children and make them pay, weird books, and jars filled with strange powders, animal entrails, and a variety of other oddities.

And a giant stockpile of every kind of alcohol known to man.

The autopsy had shown that their father's blood alcohol concentration had been incredibly high, and that his liver was so damaged it was a wonder he had lived so long.

Dean knew it was nothing but pure spite and rage that had kept their father alive.

The police had called it attempted murder, and Dean had been let off on self-defense.

Sam had healed in time, and Dean had brought him home to their apartment. A few nights later, he had burst into Dean's room in the middle of the night, panting heavily and telling his brother that a woman was in danger. Dean had listened to Sam tell him about the attack he had seen, and Dean had promised that he would help her. Sam had wanted to help, but Dean had convinced him to stay by promising that, if Sam was more healed when the next vision came, Dean would let him help.

That night Dean shot a shapeshifter with a silver bullet in a back alleyway in the Bronx. It had been an easy kill. He had gotten there before the shapeshifter, looking like her boyfriend, had been able to attack her. He had taken her home to her real boyfriend, and he had explained everything to her. They had wanted to thank him, but Dean had insisted he didn't need anything. He only asked that they not tell anyone about what they had seen or how they had been saved by a mysterious stranger.

Dean went home to Sam and told him what had happened, and Sam had been relieved that it had been an easy job.

The next time Sam had a vision, a month later, Dean had let him come. After the incident, he was more afraid than ever for Sam's life. But the incident had also helped him realize something. He realized that he had been wrong about what he wanted most for Sam. He realized that he didn't want Sam to be safe so much as he wanted him to be happy. And if Sam felt happier and less afraid helping him hunt, then Dean didn't want to stop him. Keeping Sam happy and unafraid and protected was his job; a job he wanted more than any other to keep for a long time.

They had continued to live their lives the way they had before their father showed up. Dean went back to the garage, and Sam went back to school and work. He kept working hard toward his pre-law degree, and he met a girl named Lauren.

The visions and the hunting were the only real difference. Sam had more and more visions as time went on, and the two of them did their best to help those people.

They hadn't been able to save them all. They had arrived too late to save a mother from dying in a fire, leaving behind her husband and an infant daughter. They had watched from a distance as the man cradled his daughter close to him outside of his apartment, staring up at the burning building with tears in his eyes. They found out the next day about the mother they had been unable to save.

They had both felt guilty about the loss, Sam more so than Dean. Dean hated to see his brother so sad and guilt ridden, and he had tried to convince Sam that they couldn't save everybody. Sam had asked why he had even had the vision if he couldn't have done anything about it. Dean didn't know the answer, but he reassured his brother that the visions were a gift, and that they were doing their best to accept it, and that was all that anyone could expect. He wasn't entirely sure he believed even himself, but Sam had finally seemed convinced, and in time he had moved on.

Then one day at work, Dean had heard his boss telling someone about the rumors spreading around the city. Rumors about these two guys who went around and saved people from unexplainable things at the last possible moment. Dean cringed inwardly, knowing that someone hadn't been able to keep quiet. Dean went home that day, and he told Sam about it. Sam had seemed as upset by the news as him. They didn't want to be found out. They didn't want the responsibility and the fame and the attention that came from being recognized as heroes. They walked around on pins and needles for weeks.

Then one day, a man had appeared at the garage where Dean worked. And Dean recognized him as a man he once saved from a poltergeist. Dean had prayed that the man would keep quiet.

But he hadn't. "Oh my god. Aren't you the guy…."

Dean had left work early that day to weird stares from his co-workers, people calling after him, asking him questions. Dean had jumped in his car and driven back home as fast as he could. Thankfully, Sam had been there, and the two of them had agreed it was time to leave. Dean had felt bad about Sam having to leave Lauren. He had really seemed to like the girl. But they both agreed it was for the best.

So they had piled what they could as quickly as they could into Dean's Impala (a '67 Chevy; he had finally been able to purchase his dream car thanks to some connections at work). They had left New York behind and headed west, not really knowing where they were going.

When they were too tired to drive anymore, they had gotten a room in a small rundown hotel, reminiscent of the one they had stayed in thousands of years ago when Dean was only four. They had decided to head out and pay Michael a visit before continuing west, maybe to California.

Dean had called Michael from the hotel that night and told him that he and Sam were going to pay him a visit. Michael had seemed thrilled at the prospect of seeing them again. They had talked a lot over the years, but they hadn't seen him in a decade, and Dean was curious about the woman Michael was going to marry, while Michael was curious about just how freakishly tall Sam had finally gotten.

Dean smiled as he thought of his brother, and he pulled himself out of his thoughts and turned to find Sam fast asleep next to him, breathing gently, a content look on his face.

Dean turned his gaze back toward the road and kept driving.

He didn't know where they were headed. Didn't know where they would live. Didn't know what would happen to them next or when Sam might have another vision.

He didn't know where life would take them.

But they weren't afraid anymore.

They had each other, just as they always had.

And it was more than enough.

THE END

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AN: Well that's it guys. It's been a blast. I will admit that for like ten minutes I was contemplating killing Sam off and making Dean a wreck, but I think my love for Dean angst has a limit, and Sam dying is it. I just couldn't do that to him after all the crap he put up with in his life.

I'm so grateful for all the great reviews you guys have left me. You guys are amazing, and you help make it worth it. I hope I did the ending justice and that everything I wanted to say came across (it's hard to tell if what I want to have come across actually does when I already know what it is I want to get across).

Thanks again guys, hope you enjoyed this little journey, and don't forget to leave me one final review before you leave. :D