Epilogue

Two Months Later

It was a chilly January morning as Sam locked up the apartment and then slung his duffle bag over his shoulder as he walked through the garage and headed to Dean's Impala.

After a few weeks' of well-deserved rest and relaxation following the San Venganza Incident and after sorting out the business with Slade as the old man had left everything to Sam in his will—Slade's few possessions were safe inside the apartment and another caretaker for the old cemetery had been found before too long, so things were back on track just like they were supposed to be.

A long talk between the three Winchesters a few weeks prior had made them decide that they weren't going to quit hunting anytime soon. One day, perhaps, when they wanted to retire or something else happened, but for the time being they were still needed in the world and hunting was in their blood, that and Sam had decided he was going to remain as Ghost Rider for the foreseeable future.

So, the Winchesters were heading out and getting back to work. Sam would return to his apartment or rather they would return to their apartment as it was technically their permanent home, but not for a while. Quite frankly, Sam was looking forward to getting back out there with his family. He didn't care what they did as long as they did it together like before. The Winchesters wouldn't have it any other way. Sam was finally getting his second chance.

It's just like old times, he thought to himself as he stuffed his bag into the trunk of Dean's Impala. If it weren't for my being the Ghost Rider, I'd almost think nothing has changed. But they have, and I think it's for the better. It's the start of a new year, hopefully a better one.

"You know, I think I'm going to miss this place," said John, as he cast a glance at the now locked-up apartment.

"Well, we can always come to back whenever we want," said Sam. "It's ours, after all."

John nodded, smiling.

"Hey, Sammy—" began Dean, but he was interrupted.

"For the last time, Dean, it's Sam," said Sam, as he rolled his eyes at his old nickname.

"I've been meaning to ask you, I know what you said back there, but seriously, when Lucifer offered to take back your curse after you got your soul back, why didn't you let him take away the Ghost Rider curse too?" asked Dean, ignoring Sam's interruption. "Or just ask Castiel to remove it, for that matter?"

Sam sighed as he leaned against the Impala. "I guess because I realized that I couldn't let someone else bear my curse and even if I did have it taken away, it wouldn't matter because I have a job to do and this is who I am." Being Ghost Rider was no longer Sam's curse. It was his power. He tilted his head. "Why do you ask?"

Dean sighed this time. "I guess I want to make sure that this life is what you want and you're not going to regret it."

"Are you sure you're not going to want that normal, safe, apple-pie life in a few years?" asked John, looking intently upon his son.

Sam chuckled. "Okay, three things. One, normal has never been an option for us. Two, this is what I want and I'm not going to regret it. And three, why would I want that apple-pie life when I can be out there hunting with you guys?"

This brought tears to Dean and John's eyes and the three of them shared a tight group hug for a moment before breaking apart.

Sam then grinned. "Besides, who'll dare mess with the Winchesters once word gets out that the Ghost Rider is on their side?"

John and Dean smiled back before bursting into laughter as they got in their vehicles. John got into his truck, Dean into his Impala and Sam on his motorcycle. He rode ahead of them so they could keep an eye on him as they still weren't letting him out of their sight, but Sam didn't mind. As long as he was with Dean and John, everything was going to be okay, curse or no curse. He was back where he belonged and he was never leaving them again.

It was the start of a new year, and hopefully a better one for all of them.

It's said that the West was built on legends and that legends are a way of understanding things greater than ourselves. Forces that shape our lives. Events that defy explanation. Individuals whose lives soar to the heavens or fall to the earth. This is how legends are born.

The End