Epilogue

It doesn't snow on Christmas day, the soft white that had coated the town a week earlier now sits in gutters as cold sludge. Bobby's scrap yard is shining with wet junkers, slippery gravel under the Impala's wheels as Dean and Sam head up the drive. The house itself is a warm glow against the dreary grey of the outside, with bright coloured lights lining the porch and windows lit up a soft yellow.

Jody's out on the porch the second she hears the car doors open, arms open wide for the two of them. Dean can't help but notice Sam lingering a step behind, but he doesn't call him out, instead takes the lead just because Sam needs him to.

Bobby and Jody have been to visit them both a few times since The Incident, as Dean now calls it, but Sam hasn't been up for visitors, too busy holing up in his room like a hermit crab tucked in its shell. At least he hasn't been running off like he used to, at least Dean can keep a close eye on him. There's been no word from Ruby, and Dean isn't sure if it's a good or bad thing.

Jody just about crushes the two of them in her arms. "Merry Christmas," she says, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks. She blinks at Sam, finally getting a proper look at him, no doubt noticing Bobby's hideous gift of a green hat sitting firmly on his head. Sam's barely taken it off since leaving the hospital. Dean hasn't made a comment about it, nor about the pink giftshop elephant that's been living in Sam's bedroom with him, always stuffed in his hoodie's pocket when he comes to the kitchen for meals.

Jody ushers the two of them in. It's almost too warm in the house, the fireplace lit and roaring behind the grate. The Christmas tree is clearly Jody's work, more personality than style with its mismatched baubles and bright tinsel. Before she and Bobby got together, years ago, Bobby never even had a tree, let alone decorations for its branches.

"Can I get you boys something to drink?" she asks, disappearing into the kitchen. They hear the fridge door open with a clink of bottles. She raises her voice to add, "We've got beer and soda."

"Beer," Sam and Dean answer together. Dean glares at his brother.

"One beer and one soda," she says as she returns, handing a bottle of beer to Dean and a glass of cola to Sam. "Bobby's just prettying himself up, he should be down in a minute."

Sam sips his soda and slouches down onto the couch, flicking through the channels idly. Jody quietly summons Dean into the kitchen. The windows are steamed up and it's hotter than the living room, every inch of the counter space filled with carrot peels or potato skins. He stirs distractedly at the gravy on the hob, taking a deep glug of beer.

"How're things going?" Jody asks quietly, lining the kitchen table with place mats.

Dean shrugs. "They're going. Better than before, I think."

She pats his arm. "Don't hesitate to give us a call. Whenever you need."

"Got you on speed dial. Your number's 911, right?" Dean replies with a smile, but he doesn't feel it reach past his mouth. It's been a tough couple of weeks. Sam's still out of school – although Principal Harvelle was kind enough to offer to take him back when the term starts again, given recent circumstances. A final finalchance – and Dean's had to haul the kid around everywhere with him for fear of what might happen if he doesn't. He removed every sharp object in the house before Sam was released from hospital, but he still can't help checking Sam's room every time he's not looking.

Letting him go to the bathroom by himself is terrifying enough. Sam wants some space, clearly, but Dean's not sure that's an option.

"Things can only get better now that things are out in the open," Jody says. He knows she's trying to be helpful, but Dean finds it hard to believe her. This past year, things have gone from bad to worse, who says that'll stop now? He glances through the kitchen door to see Sam watching Miracle on 34th Street, the original black-and-white version.

"And therapy's starting soon," she prods. "Therapy will really help."

"Yeah," Dean says. He can't help sighing, he's exhausted. "I just – I worry a lot, y'know. He's my little brother and… I just don't want him to hurt himself again, but I know he probably will."

And, God, even just talking about it out loud is difficult. It's not normal to wake your brother up in the morning and panic for a moment that he might be dead, that he might've –

He can't help thinking about that night. If Cas hadn't been as quick as he was, Sam would have frozen to death. Simple as that. He swallows a breath and finishes the rest of the beer in one go.

"If something happens again, then we'll all be here to pick him back up," Jody says softly, peeking into the oven to poke at the roasting vegetables. She straightens up and rests her hands on her hips. "It's Christmas, Dean. Let's all just be together and eat more than we should. Sam's here and he's safe, we're keeping an eye on him. No worrying allowed today, okay?"

Dean smiles, genuinely this time. He has to remind himself that Sam's okay, the bandages are off his fingers, therapy's starting next month, school's back on the agenda. They're here and it's Christmas and nothing terrible is happening. "Yeah, I think I'm good with that."

They have this tradition every Christmas day to play Monopoly, winner gets first choice when it comes to carving the turkey. It's something their Mom used to do with her parents, then with John, then John did it with Dean and Sam when they were old enough to play. Bobby doesn't take part, too busy tending to the turkey like it's his first born.

Sam is sitting cross-legged on the carpet, leaning close and plotting his next move. Sam will win, because he always wins, but Dean's not going to kick up a fuss about it this year. Last Christmas was their first without their father, and it had been spent in their old house by themselves with greasy cartons of Chinese takeout, ignoring Bobby's calls.

This year, it still feels wrong with one less seat at the table, but Dean's just happy that Sam's here to play Monopolywith him. It's hot enough now that they had to open a window, Dean shed his sweater an hour ago, but Sam's still buried under his hoodie and that eye-sore of a green bobble hat. Still, Dean won't call him out on it, he isn't exactly ready to see what's hiding under those sleeves again.

Sam buys the most expensive plot in the game, still with plenty money to spare, and hands the dice over to Jody. She rolls just as Bobby announces dinner is ready, just as the doorbell rings.

"You invite someone else?" Dean asks.

"Not that I know of…" Jody says, turning to the kitchen where Bobby appears with a shrug.

Sam's lips are pressed together like he's trying hard not to smile. "It's for Dean," he says casually. "I'm pretty sure, anyway."

Dean frowns, but Sam is already up and striding off into the kitchen. Jody pats his arm and follows after Sam.

"Be quick, okay?" she says over her shoulder. "We're all starving."

He's left alone in the living room with a nearly-finished game of monopoly. A second shrill of the doorbell startles him out of his daze. He sighs and gets to his feet, padding in his socks down the hallway. He can see the shift of shadows under the door like whoever's on the other side is as uncertain as he is.

He opens the door and sucks in a breath.

"Cas."

"Um, hello," Cas says. He's wrapped up in a beige trench coat and a blue scarf, a brightly wrapped box is tucked under his arm. "Sam called. He said that if I didn't have any plans for Christmas… you look like you don't know anything about this."

"No, I didn't," Dean says, more in awe than anything. "Sam did this?"

"I – I can go," Cas says quickly, already turning away. Dean catches his shoulder and pulls him back, they're almost nose-to-nose, so close that he can feel how cold Cas is from here. He quickly steps back.

"Sam called you?" he asks again.

"Yes. He said you wanted to see me. Do you?"

Dean smiles. "Of course. Yeah, definitely. I just – I thought Sam wasn't okay with it. I didn't want to waste your time. I definitely didn't want to sneak around and upset Sam, especially after…"

"Yeah," Cas says, because Dean really doesn't need to finish that sentence. Everyone from this town to the next knows what happened with Sam two weeks ago, or they at least know some version of it.

"Are you gonna invite him in or what?" Sam's bellows from the kitchen.

Dean and Cas grin. "I suppose that counts as his blessing," Dean says. He waves him inside and takes his coat and scarf to hang in the closet. In the kitchen, they're met with three pairs of eyes and matching sly grins.

"Who's this?" Bobby asks, although there's no doubt he knows already.

"This is Cas," Dean says, then adds, "My friend. Uh, should I get another chair – "

But there's already an extra place set. How didn't he notice that before? Looking at the three faces at the table, it's clear he's been conned. Not that he minds. He takes his usual seat beside Sam, Cas occupies the empty place between Dean and Jody.

"Nice to meet you," Jody says.

"What are your intentions?" Bobby says, followed by a yelp of pain as Jody kicks him under the table. "I was just kidding," he grumbles.

Jody ignores him, turning back to Cas. "We're about to carve the turkey, do you want first pick?"

"But I won Monopoly," Sam argues across the table.

"You were winning," Jody corrects. "You didn't win yet. Besides, we have a guest now."

Cas is quick to throw his hands up in surrender. "I don't mind, really."

He looks a lot more nervous than Dean's ever seen him. He hasn't known Cas for long, but he knows him as a silent but strong type, not the sort the bounce his knee anxiously under the table. Dean places his hand over his thigh to settle it, pleased when Cas' hand finds his, fingers knotting together.

"You okay?" he whispers, just as Bobby begins slicing up the meat.

Cas nods. "I've just… not really had Christmas in a long time. It's nice to sit down like this, like a family."

Dean squeezes his hand and catches Sam watching out of the corner of his eye. He looks pleased, a far cry from the red-rage he'd burst into just when finding Cas' number on Dean's phone two weeks ago. Dean leans close to his brother to whisper in his ear.

"Thank you."

Sam shrugs, voice quiet under the chatter at the other end of the table. "I felt really bad about… y'know. I just want you to be happy. You're happy, right?"

Dean flicks the bobble on top of Sam's hat and says, "I'm always happy with my pain-in-the-ass little brother."

Sam's cheeks are burning with blush, so Dean doesn't say anything further. He can't help scanning the room for any sharp objects; chopping knife on the counter, carving knife in Bobby's hand, glasses and forks all over the place. Sam's in for a lifetime of being bubble-wrapped like fine china.

He remembers what Jody said earlier. No worrying allowed today.

Today, they're not a poor orphan mechanic and a mentally ill teenager. They aren't a widow with dead a son and a widower who never had sons. They aren't a lonely school councillor with no plans for the holidays.

They're a family of their own, just sitting down to dinner on Christmas day. Like a real cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie.

Dean raises his beer bottle, too many words on his mind and none of them will do justice to the people around the table. Instead, he settles for, "Merry fucking Christmas, everybody!"

After they've clinked their glasses and pulled crackers, Dean piles mashed potatoes onto his plate. He watches Bobby peck Jody's cheek, sees Sam grin shyly as he adjusts a red paper crown atop his bobble hat, feels Cas' shoulder brush against his. For the first time in a long time, he doesn't feel so alone.

A/N: And here is the end of this story! I enjoyed writing this far more than I expected (destiel is not my thing, at all). I've grown very attached to these versions of the characters, stay tuned for more stories set in this world (although I have no idea when they'll be posted... or written. Hopefully soon!)

Thanks so much for all your lovely comments on this story, I was pleasantly surprised by the reaction since I'd been hesitant to post it on this site in the first place, I know most my readers don't expect this sort of thing from me. Again, thanks!