AN: Finally, the last part of this story is here! Sorry for the long wait.

Chapter 5

Sam meets Leah at the Big Piney-Marbleton annual Maypole social, a month after he and Dean and Cas settle in Wyoming. With her beautiful smile and her sunny blonde hair, she stands out to Sam in the crowd, drawing him like a magnet. She's wearing a pale blue sun dress and diamond ring on a gold chain around her neck. She's the first blonde to catch his eye in years, and if she reminds him of Jessica, he won't admit it, even to himself. They make small talk with goofy smiles, like a couple of smitten teenagers, and trade phone numbers.

Dean teases him about it on the way home, in the car. Says it's about time Sam got laid again and it's just Dean's luck that the prettiest single woman in town wants his little brother.

Sam calls her the next day. She agrees to meet him for coffee next weekend.

They sit across from each other in a window booth at the Miracle Diner in Big Piney, two of only five customers present at four o'clock on a Sunday. The waitress chats up Leah the way people in small towns do, and Leah introduces Sam to her. They both order coffee, nothing else.

It's another beautiful spring day in Wyoming, the sun hanging low in the sky now, light still shining through the wide windows of the diner. Leah's got her hair down again, and she's wearing a chambray shirt unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled over a floral print dress. The same ring on a gold chain hangs around her neck.

Sam tells her only the bare minimum about moving to Wyoming with his brother. Not much else beyond what he mentioned at the Maypole social. Fortunately, she doesn't press him for more information.

They talk about the town, about all the outdoor activities available in the area, about how harsh the winters really get, and where Sam can get the best pie. It isn't until after they get through all that, Sam realizes how little they've each talked about themselves. Most of Sam's past is off limits, and it's hard to say anything about who he is without referring back to his old life. The same can't be true for Leah, and he wonders if she's been waiting for Sam to ask her personal questions. He's just not sure where to start, on this first lengthy conversation.

They're quiet for a minute or two, peering at each other with polite smiles and using their coffee cups as distractions. The silence isn't quite awkward.

"Can I ask about the ring?" Sam says.

The diamond ring and golden chain glint against her skin. She glances down, lifts her hand to her chest and touches the ring. She pauses, then looks Sam in the eye and says, "I'm a widow."

Sam feels his heart sink, regret like a heavy stone at the bottom of his stomach. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business."

"It's okay. It was an innocent question."

"We don't have to talk about it," says Sam. "It's gotta be a sensitive subject."

Leah smiles and looks down, quiet for a beat. "It's been about a year and a half. He crashed his truck on the highway one night, when the weather was bad. It was snowing. There was ice on the road, and he... lost control."

"I'm sorry."

Leah doesn't look sad but she keeps her head bowed.

"What was his name?" Sam asks, after a moment.

"Ethan," she says. "Ethan Fairchild."

"You still go by your married name?"

Leah nods. "I still live in our house. Still wear this ring. My friends think I should have started to move on by now, though what that's supposed to look like is beyond me."

"Everybody deals with grief at their own pace," says Sam, with the understanding and compassion of someone who knows from experience.

Leah looks at him with those clear, blue eyes full of something like gratitude or relief. She is the most beautiful woman Sam's seen in a long time, and it's not just because of her physical appearance.

"Sam," she says. "You seem like a really nice guy, and I don't want to waste your time. I'm glad we met up today, but the truth is, I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I'm not even looking for a date. I'm not ready. And I don't know when that'll change or if it will. I'm sorry if that's disappointing to hear."

Sam shakes his head. "I'm not disappointed. I get it. Believe me. I didn't exactly ask you here on a date, to be honest. Not that I wouldn't want to go on a date with you but... I don't know if I want a girlfriend right now either. I'm sort of in the middle of this big transition period, I've only been here in Wyoming for five or six weeks, and I'm still not settled yet. I could use a new friend here, and I just thought you might be a good candidate, so."

Leah smiles. "I wouldn't mind a new friend."

He smiles back at her.

They stay another thirty minutes, making small talk about the local library and bookstore. Sam walks Leah to her car, and they agree to hang out again soon.

He researches her husband's death. Finds an article online about the accident from a county news website and an old listing for his church memorial service. Stumbles on a photograph of the couple on their wedding day six years ago, along with a feature on the event from the local paper. The bride and groom are looking at each other, on the church steps. Leah's holding her bouquet in one hand, and she's smiling big, the happiest face Sam's ever seen.

His heart aches for her.

Sam and Leah spend the summer becoming friends. He finds out that she's an RN at the Marbleton-Big Piney Clinic in Marbleton, and after Sam starts working day shifts at the Hardware and Guns in Big Piney, they sometimes meet for lunch. They meet at the library in Big Piney and read together for a couple hours some evenings, not talking much except when they browse the shelves together or one asks the other if their current reading material is any good. They go to the movies a couple times in Pinedale, forty minutes northeast of Big Piney and Marbleton. They sit right next to each other and share a small bag of popcorn, but they don't touch, except for the occasional elbow brushing.

She doesn't invite him to her house until the break of August. There are photographs of her and her husband framed all over the place: wedding photos, honeymoon photos, pictures of camping trips and Christmases and family gatherings. Sam tries not to look at them, while Leah's there to see him do it. He doesn't mention her husband and neither does she, but the dead man's presence is undeniable, almost something solid. Sam knows a thing or two about that, not the kind of ghosts he used to kill but the love of the living for the dead.

Sam gets hired on at the saloon as a part-time bartender, and Leah visits him there one night, even though it isn't her kind of place. She only orders one beer and takes too long to finish it. Lucky for Sam, it's a slow shift, and he can spend most of it talking to her. By then, he can tell that she's starting to let her guard down with him, just a little. She smiles at him more. They're getting comfortable around each other.

In September, when the leaves begin to change color, they go on a walk in the woods behind Leah's property. He kisses her on impulse, and she doesn't pull away. They look at each other without speaking, some kind of understanding passing between them—about their friendship, what it can be and what it can't. They walk back to the house, side by side without touching, and she kisses him as he's about to leave through the front door.

"We don't have to do this," Sam tells her, meaning it. "I like being your friend, and I don't want to screw it up."

"I know," she says.

They have sex in her bed, slow and gentle, and she starts to cry as soon as they're done. He asks her if she wants him to leave, and she shakes her head without looking at him. Sam holds her until she's calm again.

The next time they see each other after that, Leah says, "I don't want to do that again. Not anytime soon, at least. I'm sorry."

Sam just shakes his head and says, "I don't care if we never do that again."

She reaches across the table and grabs his hand.

Somewhere along the line, Dean stops teasing Sam about Leah. His little brother, as usual, is secretive about the relationship and his own feelings and thoughts on her. Dean knows that Sam is spending time with her, yet he never sees them together or even catches Sam on the phone with her more than once. What few times Sam and Dean and Leah are in the same place at the same time—like the big July 4th party that everyone in town attends each year—Sam and Leah don't do much more than smile and nod at each other from a distance.

September's almost over when Dean realizes that maybe he's been too distracted by his own job at the auto shop and his efforts to furnish, decorate, and organize the house to notice how often Sam disappears to go see Leah. It isn't every day or even every other day. Most nights, he's home for dinner, and most weekends, he and Dean either hang out on their property or go into town together. But slowly, Sam's absences have been increasing. He hasn't said a word about dating Leah, hasn't called her his girlfriend or mentioned her much at all, but it's suddenly obvious to Dean that she isn't just a fling. And considering that Sam hasn't tried bringing her around to hang out with Dean and Cas since he met her five months ago, she must not be just another friend the way Charlie and Jodie Mills were friends with the boys.

"Cas?" Dean says to the angel one night after dinner, when Sam's working at the saloon. "Is my brother in love with that girl?"

Cas blinks at him. "In love?"

"Yeah. Yeah, is he—has he said anything to you? About Leah?"

"No," says Cas, looking up at Dean with those earnest blue eyes. "He hasn't."

Dean must look as bewildered as he feels because the angel only pauses for a moment before continuing.

"Dean. I'm sure if Sam were romantically involved with someone, he would tell you."

"I don't know that he would," Dean replies, hands now wrapped around the back of his empty chair at the kitchen table. "Maybe he's just keeping it quiet until it gets serious."

"Has he been different lately?"

"No... I don't think so."

"Well, then I doubt anything significant is going on," says Cas.

Dean eyes him skeptically. "My brother's hidden enough crap from me over the years that I don't have a problem believing that he could hide something like this if he really wanted to."

"He doesn't have a reason to. Does he?"

Dean doesn't answer, his heart already sinking in his chest and his stomach twisting. He remembers when Becky Rosen dosed his brother with love potion, and Sam married her out of the blue, then took off to start his new life with her. He remembers that a lifetime ago, Sam was going to propose to Jess. He remembers them from that twisted fantasy the Djinn dumped him into, how happy Sam was, the diamond ring on Jess's finger.

Sam's going to leave him.

And there's nothing Dean can do about it.

"So does your brother have a girlfriend?" Leah asks.

She and Sam are sitting on her back porch, watching the sunset and drinking hot tea.

"Why?" Sam says, with a mock-serious face. "You interested?"

Leah smiles, and Sam breaks into a big grin, half chuckling.

"I'm just curious," she says. "He's a good-looking guy. I'm sure what few single women are left around here clocked him on their radar as soon as you got to town."

Sam shakes his head. "Romance isn't really Dean's thing."

"What is?"

"Sex," Sam says, huffing.

"Right."

"I told you we used to live on the road, for a long time, so it was always pretty easy for him to get away with just hooking up and whatever. Now, I don't know what he's going to do. But I don't see him getting a girlfriend anytime soon."

"What about you?" Leah says.

Sam looks at her. "What about me?"

"You going to give the eligible bachelorettes of Big Piney-Marbleton a shot?"

He blinks at her, pausing. "No."

"Why not?" she says, softening her voice. The question's there, unspoken: are you waiting for me?

Sam looks away, at the trees and the plains behind Leah's house. "I guess I'm just not interested," he says. "I just want to get a hang of this new life, you know? I want to—figure things out with my brother. I want us to become a part of this place. And work on our relationship. I don't really need a girlfriend..."

Leah's watching him, legs folded up on her seat and her knees bent in front of her.

Sam sips on his tea and glances at her.

"It sounds like you kinda want to stay with Dean," she says. "Like you want your future to be something you share with him, instead of sharing it with a girlfriend or a wife."

Sam looks at her, this time a little cautious. "Yeah. I guess I do. I know that's not conventional."

Leah shrugs. "I think if you find something that works for you, someone who makes you happy, it doesn't matter what it is. You just have to go with it."

Sam's eyes soften, his mouth too.

They're quiet for a minute, looking ahead together.

"I heard of siblings like that once," Leah says. "Sisters. They lived together their whole lives, up in Jackson Hole. Never married. I think they were pretty happy."

"Yeah?" Sam says.

Leah looks at him. "Yeah."

Sam drives west, out of Big Piney and into the wilderness, back to the two acres where he and Dean and Cas live. His truck is the only vehicle on the road once he leaves town behind him. Now, after nightfall, the way home is dark except for the stars thick in the sky. Once he enters the woods surrounding the Winchester property, all he can see outside the scope of his headlights are the silhouettes of trees around him and above him. The yellow lights in the windows of his and Dean's house emerge ahead as he gets closer to it, and he smiles, comforted by the sight. The sky opens up again as he enters the wide clearing, pale starlight suddenly streaming down and shining white on the grass and the houses. He parks in his spot and walks up to the porch steps, wondering if Dean's making dinner already and if Cas is going to join them.

"Dean, I'm home," Sam calls out as he shuts the front door and hangs up his jacket on the coat rack. The light's on in the kitchen and one of the lamps in the living room is too. The house is quiet. Sam starts to make his way down the long corridor that splits the house front to back.

"Dean?"

He doesn't get an answer. The door the Dean's bedroom is open, Sam can see a light coming from within as he gets close. He stops in the doorway and sees his brother picking articles of clothing out of his dresser and packing them into one of his duffel bags on the bed.

"Dean?" Sam says. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving," says Dean without looking at him. He throws some socks into his bag. "Just gotta get away for a few days."

Sam watches him in silence for a few moments, his sense of alarm spiking. "Why?"

"Because I want to."

"Is something wrong?"

Dean doesn't answer.

"Are you mad at me?" Sam says.

Dean disappears into the bathroom that they share, and Sam follows to stand in the doorway.

"Dean, answer me. If something's wrong, we have to talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about, okay, Sam?" Dean grabs his toothbrush and toothpaste and turns to look at his brother. "I need some space, some me time, so I'm taking it. End of story."

Sam moves out of his way as Dean heads out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom.

"Except for the fact that you've been acting weird for days," Sam says.

"Oh, I've been weird?"

"Yeah! What, you think I haven't noticed? You've been moody and standoffish, you take off without me and stay gone for hours, you barely talk to me. You've been drinking more."

Dean rolls his eyes and zips up his bag.

Sam just slouches in the bedroom doorway, his eyes glistening and his chest tight. He's been worrying about it all this time and now he can't help but ask: "Do you want out? Is this your way of bailing? Say you're going to go have 'me time' for a few days and just never come back?"

Dean doesn't answer and doesn't look at Sam.

Sam nods, holding back tears, his throat already painfully closed up. "Why? Why would you do this, instead of talking to me about what's going on? If you really hate it here that much, you could've just told me."

Dean still doesn't reply, keeping his head down and his eyes on the floor.

Sam wipes a tear away with the back of his hand, as it reaches the middle of his cheek. "You're going to go back to hunting, aren't you?"

"This isn't about hunting," Dean says, his voice lowered. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

Sam turns his back on Dean, close his eyes, feels the tears rolling hot down his face. He feels heartbroken.

"Listen, I just want you to be happy. It's easier this way, if I go. You don't have to throw me out when the time comes. Whenever you and Leah decide to move in together—"

Sam whips around to look at Dean. "Leah?" he says. "This is about Leah?"

"She's a good girl, Sam," says Dean. "You're not getting any younger, and you only get so many chances in life with someone like her. I'm not going to screw that up. Not again."

Sam almost laughs, a strange kind of relief flooding his body. "You're leaving because you think I'm in love with Leah?"

"Aren't you?"

"No!" Sam says, wiping his cheeks with the backs of his hands. "No, I'm not. We're not even a couple, Dean. She's my friend. I care about her, I like her a lot, but I don't want to run off with her. I don't want to—to replace you with her. My God."

Dean suddenly looks alone, sad and bewildered with his hand clasping at one strap of his duffel bag. Not at all convinced that he's wrong about Sam and Leah.

"Dean." Sam crosses the room and grips his big brother's shoulders in both hands, squaring the other man in front of him. "Dean, I am not leaving you. I want you here, more than anything. I want this life with you. If I was going to go do my own thing, I wouldn't have come to Wyoming with you in the first place. I wouldn't have moved into this house with you."

"You don't have to give up a normal life for me," Dean says. "You're young enough, you can still have the wife and kids. You deserve a family, Sam."

"You are my family," Sam says, squeezing Dean's shoulders, almost shaking him a little. "I'm not giving up anything. I want a normal life with you. That's why we're here. So we can try to build something good together."

Dean looks at Sam like he wants desperately to believe him. He swallows, eyes shining. "I can't—"

"Can't what?"

"I can't let myself get attached to all this, just to have you walk out on me one day. I want this, Sam. It's all I've ever wanted. But if it's just going to fall apart like everything else in my life always has, then I don't want to go down this road. If you're going to get sick of playing house with me and want the real deal with some girl, then I'd rather just go now. Okay?"

Sam pulls Dean into a tight hug. Dean doesn't try to break away.

"You idiot," Sam says, too many emotions boiling in his chest to make sense of what he's feeling. "How many times do I have to say it, huh? I don't want to leave you. I don't want to live this life without you. I love you." Another tear falls down Sam's face. "I love you."

Dean's holding onto Sam, and he presses his hands into Sam's back now, tightening his arms around the bigger man.

"Please don't go," Sam says.

Dean doesn't answer but he doesn't pull away either.

"Dean. I'm not going to leave you. Don't leave me."

"Okay," Dean says, after a beat, his voice raw.

Sam feels relief flood his body, the muscles relaxing. He cups the back of his brother's head with his hand and stands there with him for a little while longer, then pulls out of the hug just enough to look at Dean. His brother looks as emotional as Sam feels, face flushed and eyes shining.

Sam reaches around Dean, grabs the duffel bag by one of the handles and yanks it off the bed, dropping it on the floor. He takes Dean's wrist in his hand and pulls him toward the bed, climbing onto it himself.

Dean stops and hesitates. "What are you doing?"

"Just lie down with me, okay?"

"Sam..." Dean whines. "We're not gonna..."

"If you don't need it, then humor me because I do," Sam says. Then, after a pause: "You know, you can drop the tired macho crap now. It's just you and me. And I'm not judging you."

Dean continues to give him a reluctant bitch face, but after half a minute, he toes off his shoes and lies down next to Sam. He rolls onto his side, facing the door and away from his brother, and that's just what Sam wants. Sam curls his arm around Dean from behind and holds him close, knees slightly bent against Dean's.

They're quiet for a while, the two of them breathing together in a natural sync, their eyes closed. Sam can smell the pine and motor oil and leather in Dean's flannel, the faded cologne and sweat on his skin, and it's soothing in the most primal way, one of the most familiar scents in the world to Sam. They haven't cuddled since the night Sam convinced Dean to quit hunting for good, back when they still lived in the Men of Letters bunker. That night, it was Dean holding Sam, comforting him to sleep after their emotional and semi-drunken conversation. Nine months ago. Sam could not have dreamed about this house, this new life in Wyoming that night, but here they are. He's been so happy ever since they arrived, happier than he's been since college, and he somehow neglected to find out how Dean's been feeling about the whole thing. Dean's reaction to Leah never even crossed Sam's radar.

Sam knew Dean has long-standing abandonment issues, but he never imagined that they would rear their many heads here and now, after retiring and moving into this house together. He can't believe that Dean would actually think Sam wants to replace him with Leah. How many weeks has Dean been torturing himself over this? Sam feels sorry just wondering about it. Dean's fear of being abandoned runs deep, a lot deeper than Sam previously understood, and it isn't something that one promise can heal. Sam's going to have to show Dean day by day that he really is going to stay. He's going to have to reassure him over and over, let time prove his loyalty and commitment for him. And he's ready and willing to do that. He retired from their old life knowing that he and Dean have a lot of healing to do, and he's aware that it'll require more than a few weeks or months.

It's not that Sam has sworn off women and romance for the rest of his life. It's just that he's reached a point where he doesn't need his normal life to look like everyone else's. He's not a kid anymore, and he's realized that he can do it his own way. He loves Dean too much and they've come too far in their relationship, after all the hell they went through, to split now. He can't fathom living apart from his brother. Doesn't want to try.

They lie there on the bed for a long time, Sam holding Dean and Dean just relaxing into it.

"We should do this more often," Sam says, his voice thick and almost sleepy.

Dean doesn't even protest. Just lies there and tries not to think about losing Sam.

"Hey," Sam says, after another minute. "Dean. You gotta tell me what's going on with you. If you're worried about something or things aren't right with us, you gotta tell me. Talk to me. Okay?"

Dean swallows, wanting to wrap Sam's arm around him tighter. "Okay," he says, almost whispering.

Sam presses himself against Dean's back. "I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

Dean can't bring himself to speak, so he just shuts his eyes and grounds himself in the weight and heat of Sam against him.