Archive of Our Own

He has no idea why this is the last straw. With how often they have lied and betrayed one another, Sam joining the Men of Letters shouldn’t come as a surprise, especially considering he was always the type to think about retirement and a world without the supernatural, while Dean was content to go down kicking.

Or maybe it’s not Sam joining them; hell, he learned long ago he can’t control his brother.

It’s Sam’s insistence that theirs is the right way. The only way.

Eradicating every monster in the US.

How could he, after Benny? How could Sam, thinking of Garth?

It’s too much. Even for someone like him, who’s a natural killer.

“But Dean, once we’re done – “

“There’ll still be ghosts. Demons. Ever thought of that?”

“But we don’t have to – “                

He shakes his head.

“No, Sam. If this is about some utopian shit where you can retire and not feel bad anymore about what’s out there...”

That Sam did that once already while he was fighting in Purgatory, the accusation burns on his tongue. But he won’t say it out loud. It still stings, even after five years.

“Dean, Sam is right”.

Oh great. Mom came back from her last little chat with the Brits.

He doesn’t even listen to what she says next. He only looks at her and Sam, both so convinced that they are right and he’s wrong, because he’s a stupid hunter who can’t make his own decision, and something in him snaps.

Maybe it’s Mary trying to talk down to him like John. Maybe it’s Sam, almost smirking because Mom is backing him.

Either way, he’s done.

“No”.

It’s all he says as he turns around. Neither of them bother to follow him as he walks into his room and packs his duffel bag.

This time though, he takes everything with him. His weapons. His books. His typewriter.

When he moves to pick up the pictures of Mom and Sam he’s carried around his whole life, he stops. Considers.

Leaves them there.

Sam and Mom are discussing their next step in the library.

“I’m leaving” he announces, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“When will you be back?” Mary asks, apparently not even wondering where he’s going, probably figuring he’ll allow himself an old-fashioned hunt and then come back, tail between his legs.

“I won’t” he says simply.

Finally, they both look surprised. Sam opens his mouth, but Dean, for the first time since he can remember (as a human, anyway) is not interested in what his brother has to say.

“Goodbye, Sam.”

This time he means it.

Again, neither tries to stop him. They either figure he’s not worth it or he’ll return soon.

It doesn’t even hurt. He’s numb.

He stays numb until he’s about ten miles from the bunker, when he has to pull over and choke back the sobs that are desperate to get out.

He just – ended the life he’s been used to since he was four years old. And he has nowhere to go, no one to –

No. Of course there’s someone. But he’s off looking for the devil’s baby mama, and –

His phone rings.

“Hello, Dean. I – wanted to check in”.

He can’t hold it back anymore. Wonderful, first he wants Cas here so much that he’s apparently longing for him, and now he’s crying to him over the phone.

“Dean?”

He sounds worried now. He forces himself to relax so he can speak.

“I left the bunker. I won’t be back.”

“Dean?” he says, again, unsure, confused.

Dean knows the feeling.

“I can’t, Cas. Sam is working with the Men of Letters too, after all their rogue operative did, and Mom is hell-bent on killing everything that has too many teeth. That’s not...”

He trails off, because shouldn’t this be exactly who he is? Ketch put it right. He’s a killer.

“I’m in Minnesota” Cas says immediately.

“Where can we meet?”

He drives through the next five hours, him and Cas meeting in the middle.

God, a hug has never felt this good. Apart maybe from the one they shared after Cas thought he’d died to get rid of Amara.

“Dean” he says softly, pulling away.

“You need food and rest.”

He chuckles.

“That bad, huh?”

Cas shakes his head.

“Not at all.”

They end up in a small diner, and with the way Cas orders burgers and pie for him and fusses over him, the waitress clearly thinks they are dating, but Dean couldn’t care less.

“So, do you have any news on Kelly?”

“Are you sure – “

“Better than crying about my stupid family drama” he tells his best friend. “So?”

Cas sighs but complies.

“I have a lead. I think she is in Iowa, and if I am right, she is protected by a yellow-eyed demon.”

“One of those Ramiel mentioned?”

Cas nods.

“Great. So I guess we’ll need Crowley.”

“Dean – “

“Cas” he interrupts him. “I can’t do anything about Mom’s and Sam’s decisions. This is mine. Unless you don’t want me here – “

“No!” Cas grabs his hand. “I – I mean – I do want you here” he confirms, withdrawing his hand. Dean catches it and squeezes for a moment before letting go.

“Good, ‘cause you’re stuck with me now.”

“There are worse things” is all the answer Cas gives, but his eyes are sparkling.

All in all, Dean feels much better than expected after having left the better.

He’s not even sad anymore. He’s relieved.

He sleeps without nightmares, Cas watching over him.

Crowley is naturally not stocked to hear from him, still angry about his son, but angry he can handle. He’s met lots of angry demons.

“Do you want to help us get rid of Lucifer’s kid or not?” he hisses when Crowley keeps pestering him, and he reluctantly agrees.

They didn’t tell him they called his mother too, because there’s bound to be some tension going on, and by Crowley’s expression when he sees her they were clearly right.

There’s something else going on here, though; Rowena looks much too... gleeful, as if she’s having fun watching her son suffer, and that just rubs him entirely in the wrong way.

Cas looks worried too, so he takes his hand again like he did in the diner, to reassure him, of course, only to –

Who’s he kidding? He threw his whole life away yesterday, might as well admit to himself that he – well, he might not be as straight as he thought he was.

“We’ll deal with it later” he murmurs. Cas stares at him, stupefied.

He squeezes his hand again.

“We’ll deal with all of it” he promises.

“Matzel Tov, Squirrel. What’s the plan?”

He almost forgot Crowley and Rowena are watching.

He lets go of Cas’ hand.

“First of all, we need to get rid of the yellow-eyed demon.”

“It’s Dagon” Crowley says.

“How do you know?”

“I have my ways” is all he says, even though Rowena won’t let it go.

“This is no time to play coy, Fergus – “

“Alright” Dean snaps, “First Dagon, then we talk to Kelly.”

The look Crowley shoots him is almost thankful.

What follows is surprisingly anticlimactic. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised; Rowena has banished Lucifer often enough, so one small demon, yellow eyes or not, is no match for her.

Kelly is cowering in a corner when they approach her.

Crap. He really should have thought about that harder. It’s been months, and she’s very visibly pregnant now.

They can’t just...

“We’re not here to hurt you, okay” Dean says slowly.

“Please, just hear us out.”

It takes hours to get her to see what Dagon was trying to do, that the son of a bitch was just happy to have a Prince of Hell to raise for evil, but slowly she starts to believe them.

“I still want it” she tells them firmly, however. “It’s not completely his. It’s mine, too.”

She’s determined, stronger than she’s been before. Apparently Dagon boosting her self-esteem backfired badly.

“It’s too late for an abortion anyway” she adds.

“Technically – “ Crowley begins.

“Crowley” Dean says tiredly.

Miraculously, he shuts up.

“Look, I am not saying abortion. What I am saying is that the witch who helped banish Lucifer is going to make sure no one can find you, alright? And it would be a good idea to bind your kid’s powers. I mean – Imagine preschool.”

She smiles somewhat painfully.

“You can do that while it’s still – “

“You’d be surprised what magic can do” Rowena says, rubbing her hands.

“We’ll get the wee barn to behave, don’t worry.”

Yes, definitely anticlimactic.

But also somewhat cathartic.

No death, no drama. For once.

Don’t worry about Kelly anymore, he texts Sam. It’s been handled.

He doesn’t pick up when his brother calls, and he doesn’t reply to Mom’s text – What does that mean? Are you coming back soon? either.

Rowena has already left with Kelly. Should be safe enough, considering she doesn’t have a personal vendetta against her and as much of a reason to keep Lucifer’s child safe, protected and human like everybody else.

“Moose and Squirrel at odds? Say it isn’t so” Crowley remarks.

Dean shrugs.

“I quit.”

The demon’s eyes widen. “What do you – “

“The family business. Was going into a direction I didn’t want. British dicks.” He glances at Crowley, Cas a comforting warmth next to him.

“No offense.”

“None taken. I’m not a fan myself. Are you really going to stop hunting?”

“Nah”. He slings his arm around Cas’ shoulder.

“I’ll stick with Cas, as long as he’ll have me.”

It will feel good to look after his angel for a bit. God knows what would have happened if he hadn’t been there to prove to Kelly that not all angels are baby-killing dicks, so Dagon may have lied to her.

Crowley nods.

“Feel free to drop in” Dean tells him.

As an afterthought, he adds, “I know all about deadbeat parents, believe me”.

Life goes on after that.

He and Cas make a great team – not that that’s new. It’s still nice.

Easy. Uncomplicated.

Although they always sleep in the same bed now, yes sleep, because Cas needs to on a regular basis. He’s also begun to eat.

When Dean asks about it because he’s done with goddamn secrets, he’s honest.

“I’m falling. Of my own free will.”

“If you really want to – “

“Yes” he tells him, reaching out, cradling his face in his hands.

They have never touched like this before.

“Then why not just cut it out?” he murmurs, leaning into the touch.

“I don’t want it to be used by anyone. This way, it ebbs away, ceases to exist.”

“And you’re left with a soul.”

Cas nods.

His lips are warm and soft, and Dean hasn’t been this happy in –

He can’t remember.

Mom and Sam still try to reach him on occasion, and it keeps surprising him how little he cares.

Crowley weirdly becomes somewhat of a hunting buddy.

The first time it happens, it’s understandable. It’s in the middle of the night, they are fighting a dragon, and the Sword of Brunswick is sadly still broken and rather small compared to what they have to deal with.

Cas has just been thrown off the creature, and Dean, a wound on his temple bleeding into his eyes, is scrambling after their weapon, reaching out blindly...

A scream almost blows out his eardrums.

Wiping his eyes, he jumps up.

Crowley is standing over the dead dragon, the sword in his hands.

“Squirrel. Feathers. You’re getting slow.”

“I’ll show you slow” he mumbles and holds out his hand.

They’re both surprised when Crowley immediately gives him the sword.

“Yes, I... well, I’ll be on my way.”

He vanishes.

Dean helps Cas up.

“Was that..:”

Dean shrugs.

“Guess he was bored.”

Really, Crowley acting strange is nothing new. He doesn’t think too hard about it.

There are other things to dwell on, like how Cas feels when he slips into his arms that night, safe and sound.

But it keeps happening.

They’ll be cornered, or something will go wrong on a simple salt-and-burn, or they’ll be stuck during research (a rare enough occasion since Cas has been careful to preserve his angelic knowledge), suddenly Crowley is there to help. Not that they ever call it that.

Eventually, there’s an evening where Cas is already asleep and Dean slips out for a drink (really just one, these days) and Crowley is waiting for him in the bar, smirk on his face, drinking one of those fancy cocktails with a pitch fork in it.

“Squirrel.”

“Your Majesty. Didn’t expect to see you. A bit low-class for you, isn’t it?”

Crowley just shrugs and pays the bill an hour later.

And then, there comes a time when it’s not at all unusual for him to zap in randomly and get rid of a ghost they’re grappling with. He even buys them dinner now and then.

And Dean finds that, after everything, he doesn’t mind one bit.

Six months into this new but kind of brilliant existence, they meet the Men of Letters again.

And it’s worse, so much worse than he thought.

They’re actually in town because of a ghoul. They just got rid of it when they notice articles about kettle being slaughtered, and from the bite wounds, it looks like it could be vamps.

If so, they’re pretty nice for bloodsuckers. They even leave money behind for the cows.

They decide to check it out, just in case.

What they come across is a crime scene.

Two undeniably British (seriously, that accent should be its own language) guys are viciously decapitating the vamps, who are not even fighting. They are begging and crying and telling them they haven’t killed anyone, it was only a few cows, and oh God, not my wife, please –

They don’t even think. They just attack.

Even as a human, Cas is a freaking good fighter, and really, it would end up with them subduing the Brits, if they were not surrounded by vampires who have just lost several loved ones.

But even so, they don’t drink a drop of their blood. And they promise to burn the bodies.

It’s not going to bother Dean very much.

Connie, the leader, reminds him a bit of Lenore, actually.

He gives her his number.

“Just in case”.

Just in case more humans come after you stays unspoken.

It’s a first for them, that’s sure.

“It’s unnatural” Cas says firmly once they’re back in the motel room. “There has to be a balance we can find. Monsters were created by my Father as well.”

“Try getting them to understand that” Dean replies.

Actually, a balance sounds pretty freaking good, now that he comes to think of it.

“Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

And his world shifts again, just a little.

They still hunt, but they also search for good monsters who just happen to be on the radar because of little slip ups like breaking and entering into a morgue (the kitsune family’s somewhat legally procured stash ran out and they had to feed their kids) or a prank gone wrong (the witch could hardly know the guy would use the non-lethal rabbit’s food to win millions at a casino), or corpses disappearing (ghouls need to learn to be more careful).

Winchester news is monster news.

Has been for years.

They are one of the few hunters who won’t bother you if you won’t go after humans, after all.

On top of... saving the world what, five times now?

Which means that anything they get up to is naturally important.

Winchester news is monsters news.

It’s always interesting, and at times scary. Apocalypses. Saving the world. Killing the bad ones.

Because that’s the thing.

They might use the Winchesters to scare their children into behaving, but they know they only go after those who harm or kill humans.

And that is fair enough, really.

Winchester news is monster news.

And that’s how it always will be.

Until it isn’t.

They warn them, tell them about the Men of Letters.

By now, Mel isn’t even surprised, no matter how outrageous the news is.

Things have been... strange in the last couple of months.

But the Winchesters splitting up, and not only that, but for Dean, the older, leaving Sam behind...

No one saw this coming.

Sitting in her lake, she’s not sure she believes the rumours, until a gold coin falls into her lap and the old Gaelic incantation she has not hear in years is chanted.

Two men are waiting for her at the shore.

They look dangerous enough for her to be cautious as she steps out.

As always, she immediately misses the water caressing her skin. Air suffocates her.

“What is your wish?” she asks in Gaelic.

The smaller one (not that it says much, they’re both at least a foot taller than her) answers her, “We bring you news.”

She’s impressed how closely he sticks to the traditional formula.

“Good or bad?”

He hesitates at that, and she takes a step back, feels the water flowing around her feet.

“No – wait – “

The taller one raises his hands.

“We’re not here to harm you. We’re here to warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“Have you heard about the Men of Letters? Tall, good suits, sound like James Bond?”

She has heard something, that’s for sure. And the way he talks about them, his expression...

She suddenly remembers that she lost contact to a friend of hers, a vampire, about a month ago. She swallows.

“They are after monsters. Every single one. Doesn’t matter if they keep clean or not.”

“But I don’t harm – “

“We know that” the other one interjects, placing a hand on his friend’s arm –

Oh. By the looks they give each other, they’re more than friends.

“But the population of fish in your lake has been... fluctuating” he continues. “It’s enough to notice.”

“We just want you to be safe” the green-eyed guy adds.

She’s touched. From the looks of them, they are clearly hunters, but they are going out of their way to warn her.

She nods.

“I’m Mel.”

“Dean” he say, taking his boyfriend’s hand and grinning at him.

“And this is Cas.”

“Dean – “

She remembers.

“Winchester? And the angel!?”

They need a bit more time to explain after that.

It’s the beginning of a life-long friendship.

Along the way, they learn that there’s actually something like a network of good monsters.

Their leader wears a grim expression as she stands up tonight.

Lucie has the impression that they’ll have to move again.

She’s right.

“I – I don’t know how to say this” she begins her address, “but... Tamara’s nest has been wiped out.”

Silence descends over them until Toby asks, slowly, “Even the – “

“Yes, the youngest members as well.”

They’d never even touched human blood. They all know it.

“How – “

“That’s the good news – if there even is good news at this point. I got a call from Dean Winchester.”

“The Dean Winchester?” Toby asks. “Lethal, strong, extraordinary hunter?”

“Exactly. He is against the so-called “Men of Letters” agenda to wipe all monster of the face of the earth.”

“How can we know we can trust them?”

“Simple” the leader announces. “He’s left his family because he didn’t agree with their policies, and he’s been in a relationship with the angel Castiel for the last few months – “

“Wait” Toby says, pronouncing what they all think, “they weren’t together before”?

They set them up with Garth.

It’s not easy to go vegan as a djinn. At all.

His species is meant to suck humans dry via dreaming, he can’t help it. And in a way, it’s a nice way to go, he supposes.

But after he turned eighteen, he still left his family, determined to either get clean or die trying.

And as it turns out, it’s possible to exist just feasting on dreams a normal human has.

Maybe they are related to incubi after all.

It still leaves the human somewhat exhausted the next day, so he moved into a big apartment building and took care to change his address every few years.

Still, it apparently wasn’t enough.

Because one day two men burst into his apartment at night. He’s so busy feeding off the man in apartment 312, it takes so much concentration when he’s not in the same room as them, and they jump him before he can get his bearings.

He comes so far as to think  end of the line   when he sees the dagger dipped in lamb’s blood, and then two other guys show up.

He thinks they’re reinforcements, and is terribly confused when they turn out to be here to save him.

Isn’t it usually the other way around?

The others don’t even know what hit them, but soon enough they’re unconscious.

“Sorry, man. We planned to get her sooner.”

The green-eyed one extends his hand.

“Dean Winchester. This is Cas.”

“Al” he introduces himself.

“Not that I’m not thankful – but aren’t you lot normally on their side?”

“Not when all you do is cause massive “lucid dreaming”” Cas says, making quoty fingers.

Wow. Those are some major heart eyes Dean has got going on.

“So you’ll... let me go?”

“Sure. There’s just – you don’t happen to be able to wipe people’s memories, do you?” Dean asks, gesturing towards the two unconscious men.

He’s only too glad to help out with that.

Just like Dean is only too happy to try his self-baked pie, later.

“Man, this is awesome.”

Al grins. “Thanks. It doesn’t really make me feel full, but I like the taste.”

“So you are on your own?” Cas asks while smiling fondly at his boyfriend.

In the stories he heard, they weren’t together as far as he knows, but they make a damn cute couple.

“Yep. Ever since I turned eighteen and hit the road. Didn’t fancy killing humans”.

Dean swallows another bite.

“If you want to, we can give you a few numbers. No reason to stay all alone just because you happen to snack on dreams.”

It’s the first time in years he has anyone to call.

They even encounter their fair share of miracles.

“I hate this”.

“I know” Cas says softly.

Dean looks down at the gun in his hands.

“Every single potential rugaru in history took that bite, Cas. And she’s pregnant too. Has to be. Otherwise he wouldn’t be changing.”

It’s such a nice neighbourhood as well. Picket fence, well-kept garden.

Cas takes his hand.

“I know.”

“We are not – “

“Of course not.”

“I love you”.

“I know.”

“Did you just really – “

“Yes” Cas kisses him quickly.

“Let’s do this, as you would say, love.”

The young woman who opens the door is not visibly pregnant yet. But she’s clearly upset.

“Lizzie Hexam?” Dean holds up his badge.

“Agents Hall and Scudder. We’re here to talk about your husband.”

She blanches.

“I am sure you have realized that there have been some... changes in your husband George’s behaviour” Cas says.

She nods, a hand coming up to caress her stomach.

“He has been – he’s very hungry.”

Dean almost wishes he could just turn around and let things take their course. Only almost though. They have to save her and the kid.

“Is he – sick?”

“Something like that. May we come in, Mrs. Hexam?”

Ten minutes later, they’re sitting in the living room, drinking tea.

“I don’t understand. He’s been eating raw meat, and...”

“Your husband never knew his father, right?” Dean interrupts her gently.

“Yes”. Her eyes widen.

“Is it – is it genetic?”

“Something like that.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

They didn’t hear George Hexam enter the room.

“George!”

“Lizze – I’m sorry. But... I am turning into a monster. This morning, I wanted to – I can’t live like this. I could hurt you. Or our child.”

Cas tilts his head to the side. Dean studies George Hexam.

He can tell the guy’s been fighting.

Can they take the risk?

As it turns out, they can. As soon as George understands there’s a chance, although an incredibly small one, he’s determined to beat the odds.

Eight months later, they will visit them to see George Jr.

Who cares if the father is happily munching raw pig meat while they’re holding the baby.

Dean, he realizes one night after they’ve dealt with a little too obvious family of ghouls, driving with Cas asleep next to him, has become more than a killer. Than a hunter.

He’s a protector now, too.

Winchester news is monster news.

That’s how it’s been, how it is, and how it will be for a long time to come.

But things have changed.

Before, monsters were curious, worried to hear about what the Winchesters got up to; according to the stories they heard, they could easily kill everything that came across them.

That is still true.

But one of them has changed. One of them has been driving around the country with their angel friend, and he’s  helping   them.

Ever since he showed up on the hunting scene, Dean Winchester has been the boogie man parents use to send their children to bed.

Now, he becomes the guardian angel, the hero who shows up at the end of the story if a child has been kind and good and saves everyone.

While the children are asleep, the parents continue whispering.

They just saved a coven in New Orleans –

I heard they warned these succubi just in time –

Joe took out this rugaru a week ago, they showed up to thank him. Gave him their number, he won’t shut up about it –

Winchester news is monster news.

But Winchester news has taken on a whole new meaning.   

And of course –

He has become a lover as well.

He entwines their fingers as he drives on.

Crowley appears in the backseat.

About time. It’s been three days.

“The ghouls – “

“On the move. They know to be more careful, now.”

He sees Crowley nod in the rearview mirror.

Suddenly, he asks “Do you still have Michael’s Lance?”

“So you do have Lucifer then?”

They’ve been suspecting it for some time. Crowley isn’t even surprised that he knows.

Isn’t it the most ironic thing in the world that just a few days later he hands a repaired lance to the King of Hell, who returns ten minutes later to tell them the biggest threat they’ve ever faced is dead.

He doesn’t bother telling Sam. He got a new phone months ago anyway.

Sometimes, during their search for the balance Cas prophesied, he wonders what other hunters think of them. If they even know.

Apparently they do, because one day the twins stand in their motel rooms, all thankful and crying.

As it turns out, once of the witches who heard just in time and got out of her hometown before the Men of Letters could arrive is their aunt.

“We’re not the only ones” Alicia says after he’s introduced them to Cas (there seem to be some awe-inspiring stories going on about him too, if their jaws dropping is any indication).

“Many hunters check if the monsters mean any harm now. Turns out, they can live without hurting humans, if they’re willing to compromise. A friend of ours actually started dating a lamia”.

“Good for him”.

She nods.

“What about the Men of Letters?” Cas asks. “Are many hunters joining them?”

Max snorts.

“Not at all. Once word got around that Dean Winchester walked away, anyone interested changed their opinion.”

“They’ve got Sam and Mom.”

“No offense, but one was dead for thirty years and the other drank demon blood” Alicia answers. “You’ve always been a favourite of the hunting community, really. Didn’t you know?”

No. He had no freaking idea.

But as Cas kisses him that night, he finds he doesn’t mind much.

They reach out to hunters after that too. Until now, they avoided hangouts because Dean didn’t want to hear any more British pricks going on about the ultimate solution, but it’s just the opposite, really.

Because they’re not just hunter meet-ups anymore.

Hell, they meet a Banshee on one of them.

Give it to them, the Men of Letters really changed things.

Just not the way they wanted.

There are still bad monsters, of course, but there’ll also always be bad humans, so that’s not something they worry about much. Lately, even monsters have started contacting them to let them know they handled the more dangerous of their kind.

Really, compared to what Dean’s life was like before, this is Heaven.

And then it gets better.

Crowley has made a habit of either showing up or calling daily, so he knows something’s up when he only gets a text.

Got someone who wants to talk to you. Summoned me.

Summoned –

Right. Still demon. It’s just been a while since this was necessary when it comes to Crowley.

There’s only so many drinks you can have with someone commiserating over their parents before you become friends. (and that’s only if he doesn’t count being a demon. They probably were besties back then).

Bring them here he texts back.

Cas and he trade a knowing look after he lets his lover know.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Hey, Crowley” he says, “Come in. Craig’s in the fridge.”

Crowley sweeps past without glancing back at their visitor.

It’s Sam.

Sam, only he looks so much worse than he did when he saw him last –

God, it’s been over a year.

He looks a little bit like –

He looks like Dad.

“I know” his brother said. “That’s why I left.”

Dean steps aside.

“Come on in. Only, this time...” he trails off, feeling Cas step up to him, a hand resting on the small of his back.

Sam swallows, obviously surprised, but says nothing.

“One condition” he says. “This time, you listen.”

Sam nods and looks down on the floor.

It’s a start.

It takes Sam almost a month to realize Dean meant it when he said goodbye.

They have been at odds before, but they’ve always come back.

But this time –

There’s nothing.

No texts, no calls, it’s as if he has dropped off the edge of the earth.

The first week, he doesn’t worry too much.

The second, he tries to reach Cas, but the angel must have forgotten to charge his batteries again.

Hey Cas, he prays instead, Dean is out there and he’s rather upset right now. I thought you should know.

Mom isn’t very concerned either, mostly she’s of the opinion that he’ll come around.

Usually, he’d think the same. But – but...

When has Dean not let him know that he’s well, even when they were angry at one another?

And it’s just so... silent without Dean.

He certainly finds less and less reasons to just relax for a minute and laugh without his brother around.

The Men of Letters come and go, keeping their secrets albeit sharing their knowledge, and the feeling that he’s being held like a dog, ready to pounce when they wave their hands, becomes stronger and stronger.

Cas doesn’t reach out to him for weeks, which is really weird since his last prayer was about Dean. When Sam calls him once more and he finally picks up, he’s distant, more like the angel he was when they first met.

“Sam.”

“Hey, Cas, about Dean – “

“Dean is doing well. You don’t have to worry”.

He’s relieved to hear it, but still, there’s something strange about Cas’ behaviour he can’t put his finger on.

“That’s great. Look, we’re checking – “

“Sam” Cas interrupts him, “I am not interested in what the Men of Letters have to say.”

“What – I – you worked with them before – what changed?”

“I chose a side” Cas says simply and hangs up.

Sam puts his phone away, dumbfounded.

He’s not only lost Dean, but Cas as well, it seems.

He’s not used to feeling lonely, but he gets thoroughly acquainted with the feeling. Mom barely talks of anything but eradicating monsters, and he soon finds that all the books and intellectual conversation in the world is no substitute for a real connection, for years worth of memories.

He misses Dean like a missing limb.

And then, it’s not only his brother and best friend he’s suddenly lost.

He will later think that he should have known when he tries to calls Garth during a difficult hunt for a rugaru.

He hasn’t spoken to their friend in quite some time and is actually looking forward to hearing his voice.

They don’t even speak.

Garth picks up.

“Hey, it’s Sam – “

He hangs up on him without a word.

He tries again and again, but it just rings endlessly.

Could something have happened to Garth? His fingers itch, desperate to call Dean’s number. It’s been almost a year now, almost a year since they spoke, almost a year since Dean turned around and left without looking back.

It’s after this he notices another trend.

Sure, other hunters haven’t been as forthcoming as they hoped they would be, but suddenly they seem to go out of their way not to meet them at all. The Men of Letters report more and more incidents of either being brushed off or stood up to begin with.

He learns why when he bumps into Cesar and Jesse, in a grocery store of all places. Turns out, they settled down in the small town Sam is spending the night.

Neither of them look happy to see him, but after a moment of hesitation, Jesse does greet him.

He’s happy about it. God knows he’s been feeling a bit lonely since...

“Hi”.

“On a hunt?” Cesar inquires casually.

Sam nods.

“All alone?”

The question is full of a meaning the ex-hunters don’t look very comfortable with.

“Yes”.

The silence that settles between them is decidedly uncomfortable until Jesse blurts out, “Are you really working with them?”

Sam, feeling strangely defensive, replies, “They have good gadgets”.

Cesare snorts.

“And how bad is their intel again? That vampire gig didn’t really pan out that well, did it?”

“The Alpha is dead”.

“Because of you, not them.”

Sam doesn’t know what to say.

“Where’s Dean, anyway?”

He could lie, but he doesn’t feel like it.

“He left” he admits.

If he’s looking for sympathy, he clearly came to the wrong place.

“So Dean Winchester doesn’t want to work with them?”

They stare at him as if he’s grown a second head, as if everything Dean considers wrong automatically must be, and to his surprise, he doesn’t even get angry.

Not that he agrees with them. Of course not.

After that, he starts thinking.

And the next time he, Mary and Mick sit down with another hunter, he asks, “So you heard about Dean?”

The hunter nods.

“And you better have one hell of an offer if you want me to join your gig when the guy who killed the yellow-eyed demon and saved the world multiple times wants nothing to do with it. After everything I’ve heard, he would never turn his back on his family, so you’ll understand I am sceptical.”

He remains sceptical to the very end and finally leaves with a shrug and a “it’s just not for me.”

Sam doubts it’s really that simple.

He’d be ready to bet it has everything to do with the legendary Dean Winchester not joining them.

It happens suddenly.

One day, after another vampire hunt (turns out they have been doing their outmost to increase their numbers since the Alpha died) Sam looks in the mirror and realizes he has no idea if those three girls he just decapitated even drank human blood.

And then it’s not him who’s staring back at him anymore.

It’s Dad.

He all but flees the bathroom.

“Mom?” he asks that night, “Can we talk?”

“What is it, Sam?” she answers, and for the first time he thinks she sounds just like her husband.

“Do you ever – I mean are we sure those girls today were dangerous?”

“They were vampires” she says simply.

“Yes, but what if – “

“Sam, they are monsters. You killed the Alpha himself. You know why we are doing this. To get our normal lives back.”

He wonders if she ever considers just how things are supposed to go back to normal.

They never will.

As Dean pointed out, demons and ghosts will still be around. Although demons haven’t been much of a problem lately, apart from the people who make contracts.

Mom goes to fetch their dinner from the kitchen, obviously convinced their talk is over.

They eat in silence, but Sam can barely swallow. All he thinks of is Dean, how different it always was to share his dinner with his brother, how he carefully prepared their meals, how he gave up his food as a kid so Sam could eat.

“Not hungry today? You need to keep up your strength, Sam.”

“I know” he says quietly, because he suddenly realizes at that very second what he needs his strength for.

He’s run away so often.

It’s time to run towards Dean.

And hope he is willing to take him back.

As it turns out, tracking Dean down isn’t easy by any means. Cas has long since given up even dropping hints if they are still hunting together and more importantly where, and Dean could stay hidden for years if he wanted.

Reluctantly, he admits to himself that there’s a chance Crowley knows. Ever since Dean became a demon, they’ve had this weird almost-friends-except-we-are-enemies relationship. The King of Hell is bound to at least wonder where he is.

He’s too impatient to try and call.

He summons him that night in the bunker’s dungeon.

Crowley seems to be more annoyed than anything.

“Really? There is no – “

He stops talking when he sees Sam.

“Moose.”

It’s a weird thought that it feels like Crowley is being short with him, but he can’t shake it off.

“No posh backup? How disappointing.”

“Crowley...” he massages his temple with his right hand. The headache that has been lingering for a few hours us getting worse.

“What do you want? I do have business to attend to.”

“Where’s Dean?” he blurts out.

Crowley blinks.

“First you let him walk out of here, no problem, and now you’re crying over it? Summoning me to get him back?”

Is he –

Yes.

The King of Hell is chastising him for letting Dean walk out the door.

Just wonderful.

“You are in a devil’s trap” he says tiredly, “I’m not letting you out unless you tell me.”

Crowley snorts.

“As if I would just let you know without – “

He fished his phone out of his pocket and sent a text before Sam could intervene.

“The bunker’s warded” he reminds him.

Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Relax, Samantha. Don’t worry. He always answers my texts, you know.”

Before Sam could process what he meant, the reply came.

Crowley nods to himself.

“Well, then. Get me out of here, and I’ll take you to your brother.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because you’re too desperate to have any other options.”

He can’t argue with that.

Sam gets his duffle bag, wondering if he should say goodbye to Mom. But at most this would get him another lecture.

He returns to Crowley, breaking the trap. The King of Hell snaps his fingers.

His eyes grow wet when he sees the Impala in the parking lot of the motel he was just transported to.

“Aw, Samantha, no crocodile tears. You’ll need them to grovel.”

 The door opens upon the first knock.

“Hey, Crowley” Dean says, “Come in. Craig’s in the fridge.”

And the King of Hell steps into Dean’s room as if it’s no big deal.

Dean’s mustering him, and it’s clear he’s seeing the same thing Sam did.

“I know. That’s why I left.”

“Come on in. Only, this time...” 

Cas steps up to his brother, and God, Sam has missed him too.

He puts a hand at the small of Dean’s back.

Oh.

 He didn’t expect that. Maybe he should have.

“One condition” Dean announces. “This time, you listen.”

He nods, looking at the floor as he enters the room with one bed.

Naturally. They’re a couple now.

Crowley has made himself comfortable at the table, sipping a glass of Craig.

“I was hoping we could talk in private” Sams hints.

Crowley scoffs as he sips his drink. Dean shakes his head.

“Crowley’s good”.

“There you have it, Moose” the demon announces, “Mr. and Mr. Squirrel here actually like having something supernatural around”.

Sam almost hangs his head in shame until he remembers he’s talking to the King of Hell.

Who doesn’t seem to have much reigning to do, these days, if he can hang around Dean’s and Cas’ room, having drinks.

Cas looks different. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt for one thing, and there’s something distinctly... frailer about him.

He looks more vulnerable, somehow.

It’s only when Sam sees the king-sized bed that has clearly been slept in that he comes to the obvious conclusion.

“You’re human” he says stupidly.

“I’ll only return to Heaven with Dean” he answers as if it’s the only reply he can give, and Dean pulls him into a gentle kiss.

That’ll take some getting used to, he admits to himself.

“They do this all the time. Better prepare yourself”.

“Shut up Crowley” Dean mumbles with the fond annoyance he reserves for his friends.

Apparently Crowley is one of those now.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asks.

“Is this another attempt to get us to join?” Cas inquries at the same time.

Us. Dean and Cas are very much an us now. They move around one another with the familiarity of old lovers.

It’s – touching.

“No. Like I said – I left. There was – we killed a nest of vampires a few days ago. Many of them were young. Afterwards I realized I hadn’t even questioned if all of them drank human blood.”

The worst part is how Dean doesn’t even react. He just takes his confession, accepts it, sees Sam as the mindless killer he has become.

Cas reaches out and takes his hand. Crowley groans.

“Could you tone it down? Moose is trying to have a moment here.”

“What I want to say... I don’t want to be that anymore. You were right, Dean. None of the other hunters wanted to join.”

He shrugs.

“Told you.”

There’s no venom behind, he doesn’t sound smug.

Until now, he couldn’t really bring himself to raise his head, childish as it is.

Sam forces himself to take his brother in.

Dean looks good.

No, scratch that.

Dean looks great.

As if he actually does get enough sleep at night, and switches the beer and cheeseburgers for water and vegetables once in a while.

Was that all he needed to get better? To get away from Sam?

“Alright, so you wanna stick around? Try it the old-fashioned way? Because I have to tell you, Sam: Things have changed”.

“I can see that” he says softly, hoping that Dean doesn’t think he’s homophobic, too.

“Not what I meant” his brother replies. “We’ve got a lot more good monsters than Garth running around, now”.

“And Hell is under control if anyone is interested” Crowley pipes in.

“Good monsters?”

“Yeah, you know, the ones who know it’s in their nature, but that doesn’t mean they have to harm humans.”

Crowley waves from behind him. Sam suppresses a groan. He wonders if the King of Hell just randomly drops in whenever he wants, these days.

Later he will find that to be the case.

“And you’re...”

“We make sure no one gets to them” Dean explains. “No point in spilling innocent blood just for the sake of it. We make a few calls, warn them about the genocidal tea maniacs, and in return, they make sure to let us know when they hear about one of their own going off the rails, or handle it themselves. Most hunters we meet are pretty content with that”.

“You’ve been meeting other hunters?”

Dean nods.

“Remember the twins? They sought us out. It sort of... spiralled from there.”

“People were ready to listen as long as we asked politely” Cas points out.

Of course he’s on Dean’s side here –

Sam takes a deep breath and reminds himself that choosing Dean’s side is what this is all about.

“Hear, hear” Crowley affirms.

“Dean?” Sam asks slowly. “Maybe we could talk? You know, just the two of us?”

He loves Cas, but there are some things he has to tell his brother, and his brother alone.

Cas gently touches Dean’s hand. Dean nods.

Crowley sighs.

“I guess we can always try and find a better quality of alcohol.”

“We could also – “

“I was summoned by the more annoying Winchester sibling, Castiel, I am entitled to a good drink.”

And to Sam’s astonishment, Cas actually leaves with him, after Dean catches him by the arm and whispers something in his ear.

With another kiss, they part.

“Take care” Dean calls after them right before the door closes.

“I always do” Crowley answers.

“Are you sure...” Sam trails off.

“Crowley knows I don’t like it when he allows Cas to drink too much. Guy doesn’t know his limits yet.”

“He fell?” Sam guesses.

“On his own terms. He wanted to be with me as a human.”

“I see” he says carefully, neutrally.

Dean raises an eyebrow, clearly waiting for something to happen.

“Look, Dean, I you must know don’t care.”

“Must I? The last few months before I left, seemed like I didn’t know you at all.”

He deserves that.

“I am happy for you. I really am.”

“Thanks, Sammy” Dean eventually answers. “I’m pretty stocked about this whole thing too.”

It’s the first real smile he has given him, and Sam basks in it.

“So Crowley...” he eventually begins, unsure of how to proceed.

When they last saw him, they were allies at best – at least he thought so – and now he’s apparently... a family friend?

Dean shrugs.

“What can I say? Guy likes to hang out, and it makes hunting a hell of a lot easier.”

“So he’s a – friend?”

“If you mean to ask if we would come to his help if the Brits ever decide to try and take him down?” Dean considers it for a moment, then continues, “Absolutely.”

Belatedly he adds, “Hell hasn’t been this stable in – ever.”

Sam can’t find it in himself to be too weirded out over this. Crowley has helped them far more than the Men of Letters ever could. And yeah, he can be a bastard, but he still brought him to Dean and Cas, no questions asked.

“Want a beer?” Dean asks abruptly.

Sam understands.

He isn’t forgiven, but it’s a start.

It hurts, being left out.

Especially when monsters call or drop in. But he understands.

He has to earn Dean’s trust – no, he has to earn everyone’s trust.

And yes, that includes Crowley.

Because the demon can’t even stay away for one damn day, it seems.

A bit hypocritical, really, Sam starts to think after a few days. He worked with misguided humans and gets treated like a child, and Dean is best friends with the King of Hell and no one bats an eye.

Before this new frustration can grow into resentment, Garth visits.

It’s like a cold shower.

He enthusiastically hugs Dean and Cas, and even shakes Crowley’s hand.

But he only nods in his general direction, saying “Sam.”

Garth hanging up on him was bad. This is much worse.

Because, of course he acts that way.

The Men of Letters would kill Garth out of principle.

Just like they would kill all the others he gets to meet eventually – ghouls and vampires and banshees and goblins, all treating Dean and Cas either as heroes or part of the family.

It’s a stark contrast to the fear or sometimes downright hatred Sam inspires in them.

Al, a “vegan djinn”, as he happily calls himself, drops by.

As soon as Dean mentions his name, the temperature in the room drops.

It’s clear he’s been talking to Garth.

“So you are the younger Winchester”.

That’s miles away from the happy-go-lucky creature Dean described earlier when Al announced he was going to show up.

Sam nods, telling himself to play nice. He can do this.

Or not.

“I see. So you’re... back on the team?”

“I... joined Dean and Cas a while ago.”

Al studies him.

“I understand, but... let’s just say... they’ve got a lot of people looking after them. Not just the King of Hell.”

A djinn just told him to be careful and warned him against harming Dean and Cas.

Sam escapes to a nearby park and sits down on a bench, burying his head in his hands.

It’s Cas who finds him.                                                                                                                   

“Did Dean send you?”

“He didn’t have to. He would have come himself, but we felt you might want to talk to a friend instead of a brother. Al’s on his way – he was really sorry after you ran away – and Dean and Crowley are grocery shopping.”

When did this become their normal?

“Sam, you have to understand –“

“I’m trying to, Cas!” he snaps. “But Dean won’t even give me the details! It’s like he’s not even trying to give me a chance – “

Next, Cas says something completely unexpected.

“Dean’s favourite novel by Philip K. Dick is “The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch.”

“What?”

“He thinks it’s almost as good as Vonnegut’s work” Cas continues, “He doesn’t like the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice – “

“What does this have to do – “

“His favourite flowers are violets –“

“Now you are making – “

“He doesn’t just like to eat pie, he knows how to bake it too.”

“Cas...”

Cas is looking at him, and slowly, it dawns on Sam.

“I never knew.”

“And for a long time he didn’t want to. Now, though...”

Yes, now. It’s true. Dean has been reading – and writing too, now that he thinks about it. Sam just didn’t bother to ask.

He was only too glad to think Dean must be the same he’s always been, even with all this proof to the contrary.

While Sam –

He hasn’t really shown anything else but acceptance of how he is treated.

Cas leaves, but he stays on that bench for hours.

When he returns, Dean doesn’t comment on how long he has been gone. But for once, Crowley isn’t there.

“Crowley’s not around?” he asks.

Dean shrugs.

“Figured you’d like some family time.”

“He practically is” Sam finally admits. Even Crowley has been nothing but nice to him, all in all. Yes, he’s snarky, but he’s also a demon.

“Oh” Dean breathes, blinking.

“And I just remembered something.”

Sam takes a deep breath.

Choosing Dean’s side. It means Dean’s side.

“The firewall of the Men of Letters might not be as impenetrable as they think – “

Only a long while later will he admit to himself that this was the moment they finally became family again.

“So you are saying we could find out what they are planning next?” Dean asks, excitedly.

 He nods, his eyes falling on the book on Dean’s nightstand.

 Poems by Christina Rossetti.

 He would have bet Dean didn’t even know that name.

 "I need a few days. Have to make sure they don’t notice I’m hacking them.”

 “Sure, Sammy.”

 He hasn’t called him Sammy since he returned.

 He points at the book.

 Which one is your favourite?”

 Love from the North” Dean answers immediately, without even blushing.

 Being with Cas – and perhaps his friendship with Crowley – has done him good.

 “I always preferred Emily Dickinson...”

 Dean rolls his eyes.

 “Of course you would. Some of us don’t like to be depressed after reading poetry”.

It’s the first of many talks like that.

“No – “ he mumbles a few days later.

Frustrated with his brother’s lack of progress at their latest hunt/actually rescue mission but for some reason they’re not calling it that, he takes the laptop out of Dean’s hands.

Only for the first time, he sees the resignation in his eyes, and abruptly hands it back to him mumbling “sorry”.

He learns the hard way about Crowley – when they are all tired, hurt and just want to get back to their motel

Crowley shows up at the end of an old, regular hunt where all three of them took quite a beating.

Sam almost screams when Dean hands him the keys to the Impala.

Dean and Cas get in the backseat, naturally.

“Don’t look at me like that, Moose. I’m not one for cuddling.”

He rolls his eyes and ignores him.

Until he realizes that the King of Hell keeps throwing Dean and Cas and even him small glances, as if making sure they are okay.

Two days later, Dean and Cas leave to have some alone time. Sam can’t blame them.

“All alone tonight, Moose?” Crowley suddenly asks.

He doesn’t even jump anymore.

“Dean and Cas are on a date.”

“Puke-inducing sweet, aren’t they”.

They both know Crowley doesn’t mean it.

He still keeps Sam company until they return, and it’s actually kind of nice.

Not only does he learn a lot about himself in the following weeks, but about Dean and Cas as well.

The latest witness is taking way too long telling her story. Sam understands she just survived an attack, but they have to move quickly –

Yet, before he can say anything, Cas kneels down next to her and murmurs something, Dean watching them with soft eyes.

When they leave, the girl is smiling, and it doesn’t feel like a lot of time has been lost.

He really should start giving Dean’s and Cas’ people skills more credit.

As well as his brother’s intellect.

“Hey” he absent-mindedly says one day, “Kelpies only live in fresh water, right?”

“Yeah” Dean replies in the same tone, “and you can escape them by getting salt water between yourself and the damn thing.”

“Has that been proven? The Men of Letters are – “

“It didn’t devour me at the time, so I assume it’s true.”

“When did you hunt a Kelpie?”

Dean puts the book he was perusing away.

“I was... twenty-three, I think?”

Oh.

Sam never even asked about the years he’d been at college.

“Where did you get the salt water?”

“Engineered some in a bottle before I left the motel. Kind of easy. Get water, put salt in.”

“Smart”.

Dean shrugs.

“You do what you have to do.”

The vegan djinn – “Just call me Al” – returns two months after their rather disastrous introduction.

Sadly, Dean and Cas are on a milk run.

Literally, these days. Dean doesn’t drink anymore.

That leaves Sam and the djinn sitting in an  awkward silence. The first time they met, they almost got into a fight. And that was when Dean and Cas were there.

“How are you holding up?” Sam asks eventually.

Al narrows his eyes.

He holds up his hands. He’s just so... tired of the whole damn thing.

“I’m not judging you. I promise. I just want to know.”

He relaxes.

When Dean and Cas return, they find them “geeking out about A Thousand And One Nights” as Dean calls it, although he adds, “Plus the translations you’re talking about aren’t worth it.”

She is not surprised when Dean leaves. Although she loves her boys dearly, she noticed soon after her return from the dead that her oldest is sadly not exactly bright. A good hunter, an excellent fighter, but not smart like Sam.

Even as a child, she always adored his warmth, not his mind, and that hasn’t changed. Although he has been rather short with her ever since she realized the British Men of Letters could mean the salvation of their family.

He’ll come around once he sees, once he realizes. When all the monsters are gone and he’s free to live a full life.

Sam misses him, of course. How could he not? They’ve been so close. Dean was so excited to become a big brother in the old times...

Everything will turn out for the best. She’ll save her sons from this life, and they’ll be a family again.

Once the work her husband set out to do is done.                         

God, she misses John. He could have helped keep their sons on the right path.

Sam grows more and more silent as the weeks pass. She thinks it’s just him immersing himself in the task before them, until –

Until.

She is talking to Ketch, detailing their plans to get rid of ghouls. They always creeped her out, and her father tended to leave them to her so she could learn not to be scared.

There’ll be no reason to be scared anymore soon enough.

“I am not very fond of them myself” Ketch says in that calm, British way of his. “Snivelling carcass-feasting bastards.”

“The sooner we exterminate them the better” she tells him.

He nods.

“I assume Sam will be joining us?”

“Of course”.

But when she looks for Sam later that evening, she can’t find him.

What she does find are items used in summoning and a broken devil’s trap.

What did he summon? Did it get out and attack? No; there’s no blood or signs of a struggle.

But why would Sam summon anything in the first place? They get all the intel they need from the Men of Letters.

She tries calling him, but he doesn’t answer.

It’s troubling. Sam always answers. It’s much more like Dean not to.

A few hours later, Mary is contemplating calling Mick. She doesn’t feel comfortable with the idea of Ketch looking for her son, but Mick –

She gets a text.

Figuring stuff out. Please don’t call for a while. I’m safe. Love you, Mom. Sam.

She frowns. Sam has everything figured out already; what can he possibly want?

And with a summoning, of all things.

When Ketch shows up for the next ghoul hunt, she lies.

“Sam is doing some research he insists can’t wait”.

There’s no point in him judging Sam for needing a bit of time for himself.

But just like with Dean – she expected to see him back on their doorstep for months after he vanished, since she wasn’t convinced he could deal all on his own – Sam stays away.

The Men of Letters notice eventually.

“I haven’t seen Sam in a while” Ketch observes one day.

“He left” she says shortly.

“Like Dean?”

She shrugs.

“He said he had to “figure stuff out””.

Ketch hums. “I expected different, from their reputations.”

“They’re not used to your methods” she answers sharply.

“Our methods” he reminds her.

Yes. Of course. Their methods.

The Men of Letters just have better gadgets, more knowledge, and they are actually capable of wiping out the vermin.

Why can’t her boys see that?

And yet, despite everything –

Strangely not only does the trend of hunters disagreeing with them continue, but they seem to kill less and less monsters. With every day that passes, there’s one more vampire who’s mysteriously disappeared, or a pack of werewolves that has moved away by the time they get there.

It’s happening all over, apparently.

They have no explanation for it.

Until they stumble across it.

Or rather, it’s Mary herself who stumbles across it.

She’s busy gathering info in a small town; she is certain ghouls were active here in the last few months, if only eating corpses (the thought makes her shudder), but she hasn’t been able to find a single trace of them.

She’s walking back to her motel, kicking away a piece of paper to get rid of her frustration, when she glances at the window of a diner across the street.

The sight makes her stop dead in her tracks.

It’s the boys.

And not just the boys; the angel is there with them too, and the –

Is the King of Hell laughing at something Dean said?

Apparently so.

And Sam’s laughing with him.

She doesn’t understand.

Sam got it. Sam knew what needs to be done. And now he’s having dinner with a demon.

She’s entering the diner before she has time to think about it.

And when her sons, her sons, turn around and see her, they don’t seem happy. At all.

“Look at that, Mummy Winchester’s here” the demon says, looking completely relaxed in the company of two of the deadliest hunters of their generation.

Cas nods at her.

Sam says, slowly, “Hey, Mom.”

“Mary” Dean greets her at the same time.

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

“I think we should be the ones to ask” Dean says calmly.

Huh. She thought his anger – not that he should be angry at her, he was the one who left – burned hot.

He looks good though, she decides. Well-rested, clean-shaven, relaxed, leaning into Castiel’s side –

Maybe that’s normal among male friends these days. She wouldn’t know.

“I was hunting for a family of ghouls” she begins, drawing up a chair. They are here, they might as well work together. “I can’t find them, but we need to – “

“Am I the only one” the demon drawls “who realizes no one asked her to sit down?”

“Shut up” she hisses. “I am talking to my sons.”

For a second, she thinks Dean is about to say something to Crowley, but then he leans back, something like amusement flashing over his face so quickly she can’t be sure she’s right.

“Actually” the demon says slowly, “You are talking to your sons, son-in-law and family friend.”

It takes her a moment to understand.

At first, she’s mostly disgusted that the demon would call himself a friend and that the boys say nothing against it.

And then it sets in.

Son-in-law.

Son-in-law? As in –

But –

She turns her head to stare at Dean and Cas.

Her older son demonstratively brings the angel’s hand up to his mouth and kisses it.

Oh God.

She knew of such things, of course. She knew it isn’t forbidden anymore, but –

Do they really have to do that in front of everyone?

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since I left, if I am being honest” Dean shrugs.

“I can attest to that” the demon supplies, sipping what looks like whiskey.

She forces herself not to roll her eyes. From what she has seen, children are nervous about telling their parents this sort of thing; and whether he left or not, he’s still her son.

“But you are... happy” she says carefully.

Dean beams.

“You have no idea.”

This time, it’s the angel who kisses his hand.

Is it just her or is there something... different about him?

And why is there a plate with food in front of him to begin with. She thought angels don’t need to eat or sleep.

But that seems to be a loaded question, since Dean just told her he’s in a relationship with –

She turns to Sam.

“Did you meet up on the case?”

Sam stayed for a year after Dean left. Sam agreed with her. She can’t imagine he would just leave them and go back to Dean and the life on the road he’d tried so hard to leave behind.

“No. We’re hunting together” he says.

“As in – “

“Okay, let me do the short-hand for you. You see, Mummy, turns out Moose isn’t so blockheaded after all and had enough of monster genocide, so he joined the walking Hallmark commercial on their own quest to make the world a better place. As far as I would say, it’s working” Crowley announces. After a pause he adds, “Not that I approve, of course. The world needs some sinners”.

“What do you mean?” she demands, getting angry.

There’s no other way but theirs. The boys can’t believe they can manage to kill all the monsters on their own...

“Did you get rid of the ghouls, then?”

“Yes” Dean says, “trust me, they’re not here anymore.”

“So they are dead?”

“Mom, keep your voice down” Sam interrupts.

She shoots him an irritated look.

“I want an answer.”

And then her youngest son, who fought beside her for months, looks at her and carelessly replies, “No.”

“What!?”

“They weren’t hurting anyone, Mary” Dean interjects.

Mary. Again. And that tone. And the face is back.

“Dean Winchester, you have no right – “

“Dean has every right to treat you as you insist on treating him” Cas announces, and Dean looks at him –

Like she used to look at John, once upon a time.

God. They’re not simply together – Dean is in love with the angel.

With a supernatural being.

And best friends with one apparently too, if the ease the demon is exhibiting is any indication.

It’s everything she never wanted for her sons.

Not only that – on top of everything, they seem to deal with monsters by sending them away?

What good will that do? They’ll just go on killing and eating corpses in another city.

She stands up. She can’t deal with this. She needs to think. She needs to make a plan to get them back on track.

“I’ll see myself out”.

Only Sam tells her goodbye.

Mary leaves the diner more determined than ever.

Since she came back, she has been working to save her boys.

And she will.

And they will understand.

She makes a call.

Sam doesn’t realize how far he has come until Mom finds them.

It’s hard to believe it’s only been three months since Cas chastised him on that bench, since he finally decided to truly get to know his brother.

Yes, he’s had his setbacks – when he felt like he was still treated unfairly, even though he was hacking the Men of Letters’ database constantly, and they could help even more people – but always something happened to check these tendencies really quickly, now that he paid attention. And Crowley is very talented when it comes to dressing down just at the right moment anyway.

He’s learned so much about his brother since he returned to him.

He always thought Dean was brave, and strong, and kind.

Now he knows he’s also romantic, gentle, incredibly intelligent and quick-witted.

The monsters and other hunsters were slow to trust him, before and after his realization he was still acting like a dick, even after Dean had taken him back against all odds. Now he can easily understand why. He did the right thing leaving the Men of Letters, but he should never have joined them in the first place, and he was a little... stand-offish in the beginning.

Thankfully, he learned. He will even admit that Crowley has his good points – has become a friend.

It really feels normal now, having dinner with the three of them.

Especially since they are celebrating saving another family of ghouls.

The kids are three and four year olds. Sam shudders when he contemplates what the Men of letters would have done.

And all of a sudden, Mom shows up.

Sam is shocked at how little he cares. He can even watch her walk away without regrets.

If he thought that was the last he’d hear from her in a while, he’s mistaken though.

Because she starts on him again, the same way he now sees she did before.

She sends him texts, asking him how he is, leaving sly comments about Dean.

I know you don’t want us to be odds.

If you feel lonely, you can always call. I assume your brother is often preoccupied.

Have you been translating any old texts lately? It can’t be easy, doing all the brain work alone.

What bothers him the most is remembering that once it didn’t.

This time though there are no secrets.

The second he gets the first text – the you don’t don’t want us to be at odds one – he knocks on Cas’ and Dean’s door.

“Oh, hey Mel” he says when he recognizes the water wraith.

“Hi” she calls out from the bath tub she’s lying in.

“Got in a bit of a scuffle, no one was hurt thankfully.”

“Was it the Men of Letters?” he asks, concerned.

“Oh no, just a regular hunter. Knocked him out. I just need a place to stay for the night.”

“We thought you were already asleep, otherwise we’d have told you” Cas tells him.

“I know that. You guys okay here, or should I take Mel back to mine?”

“Ever the charmer, Winchester” she calls out and he winks at her as he pulls Dean aside.

“It’s Mom.”

“What does she want?”

He shows him the text.

Dean sighs.

“She’s not very subtle, is she.”

The resignation Sam saw on his face when Mom left for the first time is still there, the pain isn’t.

“You’re gonna answer her?” Dean asks, his voice neutral.

“Of course not.”

Dean nods, a small smile on his lips.

“I just hope she doesn’t tell the British pricks where we are.”

“I doubt it” Sam says somewhat bitterly. “They are all over her. She wouldn’t risk their standing with them.”

 Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Man, John would have loved that.”

They haven’t talked about Dad in... a long time.

But Dean’s – right. Dad would have been with the Men of Letters in an instant, which is why Sam left when he started seeing him in a mirror.

Apparently their parents weren’t as badly matched as they always thought.

“Want us to get you a new phone?”

“I like knowing that she’s out there” he admits. It’s still Mom.

Dean smiles and squeezes his shoulder.

“Hey, no hard feelings. It’s your call.”

And that’s where they leave it.

They drop Mel off a few hundred miles from where she found them. Granted, they have to make quite a lot of stops because she can’t live too long outside of water and she can’t try and transport herself because the scuffle left her with somewhat diminished powers for a few days, but it’s worth it when they watch her being reunited with the cousins she hasn’t seen in years.

They are doing the right thing, whether Mom understands or not.

A few weeks in, she’s growing desperate.

I talked to Mick. You can always return.

“Mick?” Dean asks when he wordlessly hands him the phone. “Wasn’t he the guy you nerd-bonded with?”

Sam throws a pointed look at the copy of Alice in Wonderland Dean checked out of the local library an hour ago.

“I know, I know” Dean rolls his eyes, “But come on, could he even shoot a gun?”

“Yes. Just wasn’t much use in the field.”

“Oooooooooh exciting, 0 minus the 07 still wants you.”

Sam shoves him aside.

“Shut up” he murmurs, but he means it nicely.

Crowley appears, looking angry and – worried?

“What is it?” Dean asks immediately.

“Someone just rode into town. Faux leather jacket, compensating-for-something motor bike, psychopath?”

Dean swears. “Ketch is here?”

“And based on the arsenal he brought with him, I would say he means business. Do you want me to take care of it?”

Time was when he would have just acted without asking them first. It’s certainly nice to be in on whatever he’s planning.

Dean and Cas share a look in the unspoken language of lovers who know each other as well as they know themselves, and then his brother asks, “Sam?”

And here’s the thing. Even when he was still convinced the Men of Letters were right, he didn’t like Ketch. He likes the killing part of hunting too much.

But still... leaving him to a demon, even if it’s Crowley...

“We should talk to him.”

It probably won’t do much, but still...

Dean nods.

“Figured. Just so you know, if he tries anything, I –“

“You won’t have to” Crowley says simply.

“You’ll come with?”

The demon stares at him as if he’s actually transformed into a moose after all.

Sam chides himself for his stupidity. Of course he comes with.

It’s not hard to find Ketch.

He’s in the most comfortable hotel in town, naturally.

“Not even a pool is worth that” Dean mutters. He brightens up when Crowley tells him Ketch is drinking at the bar.

“Wanna do this the fun way?” he asks.

Cas immediately takes his hand.

“We’ll bring him out” the former angel announces and they saunter off.

“Don’t talk to any strangers” Crowley calls after them with a somewhat indulgent expression.

They’re back within five minutes.

Ketch looks disgusted, and it takes Sam a moment to realize it’s not about Dean and Cas being a couple.

It’s about Cas having lost his angel powers.

Ketch is really into power, he knows that. He thinks that’s why he went after Mom in the first place. The power she held over them.

His eyes widen when he takes Crowley in, though.

“You are – “

“Crowley, King of Hell. No reason to introduce yourself, I won’t need to use your name in the future.”

Before the situation can escalate, Dean steps in.

“Why are you in town?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Mary spilled the beans on what you have been doing. You are risking our mission.”

And it only goes down from here.

It ends how it can hardly fail to end.

It becomes obvious that Ketch wants to kill them – and every single monster he ever comes across – and that he cares about little else.

 Sam swallows. He thinks back to everything he saw, everything Ketch did.

How long did he torture that wendigo again before setting it on fire?

There’s no need to speak.

They look at Crowley and nod.

A moment later, both him and Ketch are gone.

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t see this coming” Dean says with satisfaction.

Sam doesn’t pity Ketch either.

They are aware what they have done, of course.

They have openly declared war on the Men of Letters.

They need to get them out of their country. It was inevitable.

A day later, Sam gets the last text Mom will ever send him, at least he thinks so at the moment.

They are coming for you.

“Let me go right now, you filthy – “

Crowley looks at him and Ketch grunts.

They’re in Hell, no demon in sight.

They probably felt he’s rather... put out.

Who is this man to come after Crowley’s – allies? He’s hardly good enough to kill a few scrawny monsters.

“This filthy demon is still the King of Hell”. He yanks off his tie.

“Plus, judging from your taste in clothing, your disapproval is more of a compliment than an insult”.

“You – “

Crowley twists a knife into his side. Not injuring any vital organs, of course. He wants this to take some time.

“What did I just say about insults?”

“How dare – “

He punches him in the face just for the pleasure of it.

“Listen, you snivelling pathetic excuse for a psychopath. Here is what’s going to happen. You are going to die. Painfully. Slowly. And I will only end this when you are begging for it to end. And then me and the Winchesters will kick your little killer troupe out of the country once and for all.”

He can see in Ketch’s eyes that he doesn’t believe him.

That changes rather quickly. Ketch is like so many demons Crowley’s met. Eager to inflict pain, but unable to bear it for very long.

Finally, hours later, he slits his throat, enjoying the flow of blood over his hands.

He throws the body on a garbage dump where it belongs.

Unto his next project.

To say his life has significantly improved, Dean things waking up next to Cas one morning, would be an understatement.

He smiles and snuggles closer to his boyfriend – no harm in morning cuddles – when he suddenly realizes things feel... off.

Not bad. Just... off.

And as soon as he raises his head, he knows why.

This is not the cheap motel room they went to sleep in.

The furniture is way too expensive, it’s light and airy, and is that a freaking lake he can see outside?

He sits up abruptly, causing Cas to grumble in protest.

“Cas – wake up!”

His lover shoots up from the bed, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings.

“This is not our room” he states.

Dean nods as he calls Sam.

Despite everything, he smiles when he hears his brother sleepily grumble “Dean?” The little nerd likes to sleep in these days, too.

Sam immediately becomes more aware.

“What – where are we?”

“So I take it you’re not at the motel anymore either.”

“No, I – is that a lake?”

“My thoughts exactly” Dean breathes.

“We seem to be in the same house” Cas says, having stepped up to him to listen to their conversation.

That’s something, at least.

“Alright Sammy, best we try and find each other.”

“My duffle bag’s here” Sam tells him.

“Ours are too” Cas points out.

They’re not without weapons then. Good.

They arm themselves with guns and silver knives before exiting the room they found themselves in.

Dean almost takes a step back in surprise when the door next to theirs opens and Sam comes out, looking as good as he did yesterday.

“Gotta say, if this is some evil scheme, it’s starting off really nicely.”

“We do not appear to have been drugged” Cas muses. “So whatever brought us here, they must be strong.”

He nods.

Their best way to search this place quickly – how huge is it, anyway? The corridors go on forever – is to split up, despite his ingrained instincts not to let his little brother or anyone else he loves out of his isght.

“Be careful” he instructs them both, pressing a quick kiss on Cas’ lips and clasping Sam’s shoulder before ducking into the next corridors.

Stairs. That’s something, at least.

He makes his way downstairs.

And this, right there? It’s a freaking entrance hall with marble.

It all looks nice enough, he supposes. Expensive. Like someone wanted to show off and be comfortable at the same time.

He hears movement in a room to his right and makes his way there, weapon ready.

What he didn’t expect was Crowley sitting in another huge room next to a pool table, leafing through a book while sipping his usual glass of Craig.

“Crowley?”

He looks up.

“Squirell. How do you like the new home base?”

“Home base? Where are we?”

“Massachusetts.”

“Why?”

Crowley shrugs.

“As good a place as any.”

“So and this is...”

“Like I said – new home base. You let me deal with the more psychopathic of the British invasion army, and it was certainly a lot of fun” Dean probably shouldn’t enjoy hearing that as much as he does, but Ketch has done nothing to incite his sympathy or pity in any way, shape or form, and he can’t bring himself to worry much about it “but it also means their little club is up in arms, so I thought you might want to have safe quarters.”

“So you... built us a mansion.”

“There was a dilapidated structure that might once have been a house. I only added to it.”

Dean takes out his phone and sends Sam and Cas texts to join them.

They both arrive quickly, Cas a bit quicker than his brother.

“Aw, Cassie, don’t worry, your toy boy is as safe as ever.”

He shoots him a somewhat disgruntled look that’s still not without a certain fondness – that’s how crazy their life has gotten, and Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Have you seen the library yet?” Crowely asks Dean just as Sam stumbles in.

“Nah. Good stuff?”

“Remember when you powered down the wards of the bunker so I could get in while we were dealing with Amara?”

He does. And he also remembers not putting them up again because – well because even back then, he and Crowley were barely enemies.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for that. I made sure to get anything the Men of Letters could use.”

“Thank you” he says honestly.

“I also made sure you had your beloved “memory foam” in case you felt like complaining about your back again – and your personal effects are in boxes in the dining room.”

Oh. He hasn’t thought about the things he used to decorate his room with in months. Sounds nice, though; Cas can get some stuff of his own, too –

Sam clears his throat.

“Do you have your own room?”

It occurs to Dean that he just thought of that as a given. Crowley hates Hell, and now that Lucifer has been dealt with, he has even less of a reason to hang out there, apart from short visits to make sure the demons are still behaving.

But for Sam to ask – that’s actually a pretty big step, now that he thinks about it.

Cas’ hand slips into his.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Now, in case you have – “

“Good.”

It’s the first time he’s seen Crowley speechless since Cain literally took his voice away.

They spent the rest of the day exploring their new home. Give it to Crowley, he really thought of everything, and it’s all brand new, nothing outdated like in the bunker.

There’s even a garage for his baby – next to the dungeon because, well, it’s Crowley. Nice he even included that in the first place considering their history with it.

As Dean and Cas soon find out, the water pressure in the showers is fantastic.

Plus, Crowley hasn’t just filled the library with the lore of their ancestors, but several works they love – at first glance, Dean sees the complete works of Vonnegut and Asimov. Jackpot.

And, okay, maybe Jane Austen is there too. Damn demon knows him too well.

And that kitchen.

“We’re going to have pancakes every day from now on” he announces, looking over the new equipment.

“Dean” Sam interjects.

“Alright, you can get some omelette with spinach. Figure I can do that if I try.”

His brother shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

“Where’s Cas anyway?” he asks. “Did he need some rest after your...”

“Shower?” Dean prompts with a grin.

“Yes. That.”

But once again, there’s no fire nor true annoyance behind Sam’s words, as there might have been, once not too long ago.

As Dean walks back to his and Cas’ room – funny, back when he only allowed himself to dream of them in half-slumbers shortly before waking up at dawn, he often pictured them in his room in the bunker – Crowley appears in front of him.   

Naturally, we are still too important to walk.

“I wasn’t sure if I should put these in your boxes as well” he says, holding out a few pictures.

Dean knows them. The ones he left behind the day he turned his back on the bunker and their legacy, preferring to make his own path.

Their own path.

After reconsidering the pictures, he takes those of him and Sam.

“That’s all I need”.

Crowley understands and vanishes with the rest.

Idly, Dean wonders what Mary is thinking now, in the empty bunker. She might not have noticed their absence much, but the knowledge and weapons the Men of Letters collected is valuable.

He’s not worried about them investigating the theft. Crowley certainly left no traces.

He expects to find Cas napping, but instead he’s –

He’s painting their walls.

There is already a whole forest stretching itself towards the lake, green leaves shining, sun kissing small flowers underneath –

“Cas” he breathes.

He knew Cas likes to draw, of course. Ever since Cas fell, he’s liked to have something to do with his fingers (in moments when they aren’t... otherwise occupied, that is) and it was Dean who bought himk his first notebook. Things only spiralled from there.

Cas has sketched almost everyone they knew at this point and once made him sit completely still for a whole evening because “I need to find the right shade of green for your eyes in that angle.”

“Dean!” he stands up so quickly Dean cringes in sympathy for his spine.

“I – this – I wanted to surprise you.” He fiddles his fingers in the late afternoon light coming in from the windows, his arms covered in paint, and Dean has never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? I freaking love it, man.”

He draws Cas into a deep kiss.

“Wait – You’ll get dirty – “

“You’ll have to clean me up, then” he whispers huskily.

“Why so much green?” he asks later, much later. He thinks it will be time for dinner soon, but he can’t be sure.

Cas is tracing patterns up and down his chest and he’s way too comfortable to move and find out.

“You know why.”

“Yeah” he says, blushing, “but why so little blue? Come on, this is our room...”

“You haven’t seen it, then?”

Dean frowns and looks at the forest again.

And he sees.

There’s blue everywhere, stronger and lighter shade mixed in with the green, until it becomes impossible to say which is which.

The message is pretty clear.

He attempts to pull Cas even closer. At the moment, he couldn’t care less about the Men of Letters.

When they enter the kitchen at eight pm, Crowley exclaims, “A miracle! We might get dinner after all.”

“You don’t need to eat” Cas reminds him while Dean tells Sam, “You could have started dinner.”

“Your cooking is much better than mine” Sam says. “Always has been.”

Dean remembers another occasion, when Sam was surprised he even knew what a kitchen was, but dismisses the thought.

They have both changed a lot since then.

“Alright”.

Crowley has stocked the fridge full to the brim.

“What do you – “

“Burgers” Cas says immediately.

“Alright then, burgers with salad it is.”

Crowley groans.

“You like Dean’s burgers” Cas reminds him.

Crowley grumbles something that sounds like “Doesn’t mean I have to eat them every day” but still digs in once dinner is done.

“So you’re saying it’s shielded like the bunker too?” Dean asks while they’re eating.

“No one will be able to tell where you are calling from while you’re here.”

He’ll soon find out that’s not the only thing the mansion can do. Sometimes, it likes to lead them down shortcuts, and it adds rooms where needed. Practical, really.

Sam’s text alert rings out.

Dean’s surprised this didn’t happen earlier.

“What does she want?”

“Are you behind this?” Sam reads out loud.

“Tell her it’s the demon she despises so much” Crowley says. “I’m sure Mummy would love to hear that.”

“I don’t answer her texts anymore. She knows that.”

Sam puts his phone away.

“She’ll have to find another way if she wants to keep manipulating me.”

He’s never called it that, before.

Dean, he knows now, actually suspected pretty early on something was wrong, only that he didn’t want to admit it to himself.

At least now they’re all on the same page.

Mary sends another text.

Only this time, when Sam reads it, he blanches.

Then, with a blank expression on his face, he throws his phone against the wall.

“Sammy?”

“That wall is brand new, you know” Crowley remarks mildly, but his hand has tensed around his glass.

“I’ll need a new phone” his brother says. “And we’ll have to tell our friends.”

“Yeah, of course. Sam, are you okay?”

“Yes. Mo – Mary just said something about – you, that’s all.”

“What did she say?”

“I don’t want to repeat it” is all Sam says.

“Good” Crowley comments.

Dean swallows. Knowing that Mary accused him of something – that she probably sounded like John – and that Sam would react this way – it has to have been bad –

And then Cas draws him close and kisses his forehead.

He relaxes.

He has Cas, he has his family, he has a new home.

Everything else can wait until tomorrow.

It’s not the word in itself.

They are familiar with the word. They have even thrown the word at each other in their worst moments.

It’s that – Mary used the word.

And Sam knows what it means to her. He’s had a whole year by her side to learn.

Don’t listen to him, Sammy. He’s left us, he’s with a supernatural creature, the King of Hell is his friend. He stole from the bunker.

He’s become a monster. He’s one of them.

Monster.

There’s nothing worse in Mary’s book.

For reasons Sam never understood, she even considers monsters worse than demons, ghosts, probably the devil himself.

For her to call one of her sons that...

He doesn’t regret breaking his phone.

He never wants to hear from her again.

There’s a knock on his door. They retired pretty soon after dinner, Sam in no mood for talking.

He’ll tell Dean eventually. But he has to calm down first. It will hurt his borther enough without him making a big deal out of it.

“Come in” he calls.

Crowley appears in front of his bed.

“New phone”.

He hands the device to Sam.

“Thanks.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to tell me what mummy wrote?”

It’s for the best he doesn’t. They both know it. Being friends with Crowley doesn’t mean forgetting what he’s capable of.

Although to his shame he has to admit that for just a second, Sam toys with the idea.

He really spent too much time with the Men of Letters.

Crowley nods.

“Quite right”.

Sam has the strange feeling he just passed some sort of test.

“Crowley?” he asks quickly before the demon can disappear to his room (which he hasn’t seen yet, but which according to Dean contains several old records and quite a few choices of Craig), “I am very grateful, but... why?”

He waves his hand to indicate the room that’s no housing everything he kept in his duffle bag and everything he left behind in the bunker.

It’s the kind of question Dean just instinctively knows the answer to. Sam always has to ask.

Maybe he’s too sceptical in some places when he’s been too trusting in others in the past.

At first, he doesn’t think Crowley will answer.

Then, the demon says, “Because this is the best I have felt in a while” and vanishes.

Sam understands that.

Two days later, Mel calls them.

They only use the old Gaelic ways of communicating today when there’s an emergency, so the second her ears pick up the familiar sounds she lets drop the small fishing net she was working on, taking advantage of having time for herself since her cousins are visiting friends a town over.

There’s news, friend.

Good or bad?   She asks, even though she knows it has to be bad, coming this way.

The Men of Letters plan to eliminate the Winchesters.

Mel’s well aware this includes Cas and Crowley as well.

She knows they have a mother, too. Dean and Sam don’t speak about her much. In fact, they don’t mention her at all if they can prevent it.

She now learns why.

Mary Winchester is working with them.

Their mother is – with the Men of Letters?

Mel knew Sam used to be. She was a little wary of him in the beginning because of it, but he has proven to be a loyal friend.

But their mother?

And shouldn’t she be in her fifties or sixties by now?

She’ll have to ask, even though she hates bringing them pain.

But first –

She rises to the surface. Thankfully no human’s around to cry about “mutated fish” (how the teenager she shocked a few months ago came to that conclusion, she’d like to hear one of these days).

She finds the phone she keeps hidden in a nearby tree (damn mortal technology, nothing’s really water-proof) and calls Dean.

Mel breathes a sigh of relief when he picks up immediately.

“Hey Mel, is there – “

“Dean, the Men of Letters you warned us about are coming after you! Are you all safe? Where are you? Me and my family can create a small space for you, it won’t be perfect and you’ll have to surface occasionally, but – “

Because he’s too worried, it takes a while to comprehend that Crowley more or less built them a safe house.

Mel’s not entirely sure how he reconciles reigning Hell with being friends with the best hunters on the planet, but she’s grateful nonetheless.

“You know we have your back, right?”

Dean chuckles.

“Of course Mel, I just can’t see the British douche bags lining up on the shore to be drowned.”

“You’d be surprised” she says calmly.

There’s a reason there are stories about water wraiths. There’s a reason men fear the water despite loving it.

She’d love to lull every single one of the bastards into their lake.

“Right now, we’re cautious. Waiting. We’ll see what they come up with.”

“Alright. Keep me posted?”

“Of course, Mel. Wouldn’t dare do anything else.”

“Don’t make me raise the pressure in the pipes of your fancy home” she mock-threatens.

Dean chuckles.

“You got Sam’s new number?”

“Yeah. He alright?”

“Yes, his phone just... stopped working.”

She bets there’s a story behind it, but it’s theirs to tell.

After they hang up, she dives back into the water and chants the old incantation.

Friends, our friends are being attacked –

 “Hey Mel, is there – ”

She interrupts him immediately, ignoring the old ritual. Whatever it is, it must be serious.

As Sam can soon deduce, she’s warning them about the Men of Letters.

It takes a few minutes to explain it all to her – including the fact he uses a new phone. Apparently she’s grown quite attached to them all.

He hangs up.

“We need to start calling people. The Men of Letters want to mobilize their forces.”

“How many hunters were working with them again?” Crowley asks, having appeared mid-conversation.

“The numbers were always... fluctuating” Sam readily supplies, “and most weren’t really convinced to begin with. Plus – I don’t think American hunters will be of much help. Dean’s a legend.”

“Aw, we both are Sammy. And don’t forget Cas – should’ve seen the twins when they first met him.”

“That’s not what I meant” he says, slowly. They have to know where they stand.

“Dean – everyone knows I drank demon blood. Fair enough, it was my choice. And Cas – no offense, but he was an angel, and most angels were okay with the Apocalypse. You are the one Winchester –“

“Who turned into a demon?”

“I don’t recall you complaining at the time” Crowley comments.

“Dean, you took on the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon.”

“And you drank demon blood to prevent – “

“Might we focus on the problem at hand instead of playing the “who did something slightly problematic for the nobler reasons” game?” Crowley interrupts them.

“Crowley’s right” Cas says. “The Men of Letters might not have our experience, but they are strong. We need to be careful.”

“Do you think they know about our network?” Dean asks, visibly worried.

Cas shakes his head.

“We’ve taken too much care to warn everyone. Unless one of those we’ve helped should turn against us...”

“Which I would strongly advise against...” Crowley pipes in.

“Maybe we could try and find out through Mary” Dean says.

Sam shakes his head.

“I’m not calling her. There’s no use.”

“I know what she wrote upset you – “

“She called you a monster” he spits out, forgetting about his plan to wait until he’s calmed down some more.

“She called you a monster” he repeats helplessly.

Dean doesn’t get it.

“Yeah, well – I kind of am – “

“No, Dean. I – I know what she means when she says it. It’s not okay.”

The year he spent with the Men of letters comes back to him. All those lonely evenings, all these senseless killings, running from target to target, no time to breathe, no one to make sure if he was okay, no one to look out for either, if he is being honest –

“What – Sammy, breathe!”

When he comes to, he’s sitting in a chair. Dean presses a glass of water into his hands.

Even Crowley looks worried.

“Sorry. This group – they – it kinda does a number on you” he mumbles.

“Hey”.

Cas grabs his shoulder.

“We understand Sam. It’s not easy to turn your back once you’ve got used to obedience.”

Cas should know better than anyone.

“Which” Dean announces “is why we are going to take them down.”

He grins.

“I mean, we did build up the monster network. Might as well use it.”

“No one who has children or is too young to understand what they are doing” Sam adds automatically in Crowley’s general direction.

“What do you take me for?” the demon asks, genuinely baffled.

Sam’s starting to wonder just how much the last one and a half years have affected Crowley.

“I’m calling Garth” Dean says.

“I’ll try to reach Al– “ Cas adds.

Crowley sighs dramatically.

“Okay then. I guess I could help out a lot here – do they know they can trust me?”

“Sure. Told them there was this one annoying Brit they can deal with in case we’re ever unavailable” Dean replies absently.

“Oh – Garth? Yeah, listen...”

As Crowley disappears again, Sam opens his laptop.

He’s been hacking into the Men of Letter’s database regularly.

They’ve built it up meticulously, really. It’s easy to find stuff.

So it’s not difficult to figure out that they have created a new file.

Winchester, D., S., C.

He’ll have to tell Cas later. He bets Dean’s face is going to be priceless.

Then again, maybe not. They’re more or less married already.

Status updated.

Dean Winchester: classified as enemy

Castiel Winchester: classified as enemy

Sam Winchester: classified as “possible”

Elimination of Nr 1&2 recommended.

“Not a chance” he mumbles to himself.

And that’s when he has an idea.

True, for a few days they won’t be able to tell what the Men of Letters are doing.

But for these few days, they won’t be able to do anything, so... 

Mick can’t quite put his fingers on what is going on with Mary Winchester, these days. She and Ketch seemed to get on well, but ever since he disappeared – rather, was murdered by or because of her sons – she hasn’t really spoken to anyone.

He still hasn’t completely given up on Sam, however. He’s an excellent hunter, and for over a year they didn’t have the slightest problem with him.

Until he walked out.

But then, he wasn’t formally trained like they were. Maybe the pressure became too much. It is hard work they are doing.

He learns better when suddenly every single computer in their base crashes.

“What’s happening?” he calls out.

Elton and Willoughby, who arrived just a few days ago to replace those they lost to the vampires, can only shrug their shoulders.

A few seconds later, right before the computers fry once and for all, a single message pops up.

Count me as an enemy, too.
SW

The next few days are busy.

 Winchester news has changed again.

This time, their protectors need to be protected.

And all across the continents, monsters are rising to the challenge.

Finally, after millennia of being at odds, mankind and monsters are on the brink of something good. Something great, even.

They’re not about to allow that future to slip out of their grasp.

And they’ll do anything to help those who changed it all.

The Men of Letters can come for them.

They are ready.

“Hey” Dean says suddenly, as they are once more working in the library, “doesn’t Lizzie Hexam work in law enforecement too?”

“Lizzie Hexam?” Sam asks. He’s sure he’s never heard the name before.

“The almost-but-not-quite-a-rugaru’s-wife.”

 “Ah.”

 “Yeah, last I heard he was doing well... Pretty sure she had some accounting job in law enforcement from some hints she gave... let me call her.”

 He only reaches her husband, but at least they hear once more that he’s working on his hunger.

 Her husband is stress-eating raw meat when she enters the kitchen at three am.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

When she got pregnant and George began to act like a rabid animal, she was more scared than she’s ever been in her entire life. Now, knowing that their love, and the one they harbour for their own little boy who’s sleeping upstairs, is keeping him human, she’s much more relaxed when she watches him do what he has to.

“The Winchesters... the guys they warned us about... they want to kill them.”

“The Winchesters want to – “

“No, no” he corrects her, “The Men of Letters want to kill the Winchesters.”

She genuinely thought her opinion of them couldn’t sink any further.

“Good God”.

“Yeah. I know they’re good, but they’ve got all these gadgets...”

A familiar nausea sweeps through her at the memory of Dean’s and Cas’ description of a device that would fry her husband’s brain in an instant.

And then they would kill her son, because he too is destined to fight the hunger should he ever have children.

“We’ll help” she says with all the confidence she can muster. Then she smiles slightly.

“True, I might only be an accountant – but I never told them I was an accountant for the FBI.”

On maternity leave, but still.

True, she can’t really go through the official channels here, but she has made enough friends over the last ten years.

She’s not going to let anything happen to her boys.

To any of them.

“Do you ever think about Mary?” Sam aks after Dean has hung up.

“Of course. Would be unnatural not to.”

Dean doesn’t have to ask where this came from. Lizzie would do anything for her husband and their child.

“Do you think she’s... lonely?”

Dean shrugs.

“I haven’t really thought about it. But I’m pretty sure she’d know what to do if she was.”

“Yeah... probably.”

“Do you ever...” Dean begins before breaking off. Sam is here, he came to him of his own free will. He’s got no right to doubt him. Still, a part of him...

“Do I regret walking away? No Dean, never”.

He can tell he means it.

Dean gets a text. He starts laughing.

“What – “

“Remember Toby?”

They met a while back on a hunter gathering.

“The big burly guy?”

He looked somewhat like Benny, leading to Cas rather unceremoniously plucking down on a chair between him and Dean, if he recalls correctly.

“Yeah. A Man of Letters tried to recruit him. Apparently it... didn’t go too well”.

Elton stumbles in, looking rather the worse for wear.

Mary frowns.

He was just supposed to talk to some hunters they found operating a few days ago.

“What happened?” Mick demands.

“They – didn’t want to talk. As a matter of fact, they used rather... strong arguments as to why they don’t wish to have anything to do with us.”

Very strong indeed, if the black eye he’s sporting is anything to go by.

“If you go against the Winchesters, you go against all of us” Elton continues “that were their exact words, if I remember correctly.”

“Did you tell them there’s a Winchester on our side?”

He shrugs helplessly.

Mary angrily turns around and walks back to her room.

They’ll probably thinks it’s her fault. These Brits aren’t as trustworthy as she thought.

Still reliable, though.

Not monster friendly. Like... others.

Sam’s last message keeps replaying in her mind.

Count me as an enemy too.

 Why can’t he see they aren’t the enemies?

They are trying to make the world a safe place, a good place for humans to raise their children, while Dean has done everything to ensure that more and more monsters run around.

Still, she ahsn’t given up hope, not completely.

Dean just... fell in with the wrong crowd. With no friend but the angel, he slowly forgot who and what he was, and now he thinks it’s normal to be around these creatures.

Once they’re all gone, he’ll see. Her boy will be alright in no time.

She’s going to rip apart that demon with her own hands.

And the angel...

The angel who...

It’s not the... male thing that’s bothering her. Ketch eyed both men and women and she didn’t mind. It’s the creature thing.

The Men of Letters have a lot of lore about angels, but nothing on how to get rid of them.

Oh well.

The Colt should be enough. The Colt is always enough.

And once she’s got Dean back on the right path, Sam is sure to follow. After his frying their computers, she has to sadly conclude that she needs Dean to get her younger son back.

She should have paid more attention to Sam back when he was still with them, but that can’t be helped now.

As they are consolidating their forces, Mel having visited and happily moving around in their swimming pool, Crowley asks, “Hey Moose, any chance that one or more of them might not be as loyal as you think they are? In my experience, an inside man is a great asset to have.”

Sam frowns.

“I don’t... maybe Mick Davies. He seemed more open to new ideas than others.”

Dean huffs.

“The one who didn’t even know how to properly hold a gun?”

“Dean” Cas says gently.

“I know, I know. So you think it could be – “

“Mick Davies, did you say?” Mel interrupts him.

All of them, even Crowley, tense. It’s not that they don’t trust Mel – it’s just that nature spirits can be... unpredictable. It’s in their nature. They can’t really help it.

They are proven right a few weeks later.

At first she thought she’d wait. See what Dean, Cas and Sam say about her idea.

But water is mercurial, ever-changing, and so is she, who was born by the element.

So when Mel gets the news that one of the Men of Letters is doing another recruitment drive that will no doubt prove unsuccessful, she decides to act.

It takes a lot of power to travel from one body of water to another, but where there is a stream, she will always be replenished. She might need to rest for a while afterwards, but she’ll be fine.  

As soon as she finds herself in the small lake, she closes her eyes and allows herself to feel, to flow, to empty herself into the new waters.

Yes. There he is.

And there is Mel, or part of her essence at least, in a drop that’s running down the glass in front of him.

She’s learned all she needs to know about them from her friends.

This one’s called Mick. According to Sam, he isn’t as bad as the others.

She’ll see.

He doesn’t look happy. As she predicted, the hunter wants nothing to do with him.

She smiles.

Water has many forms.

He’ll learn to fear one today.        

Mick is… rather sure he left the car hereabouts. That’s right, surely?

The fog reminds him of home.

The only home he ever knew. Kendrick’s…

We can leave, Mick, we don’t have to –

No – no, Mick, please –

He shakes his head to get rid of the voice of his long-dead best friend.

What is the matter with him today?

He was feeling rather antsy the whole interview, as if something was watching him…

But they’d know if there was supernatural activity here, they always do –

Except they didn’t know about the alpha, or the vampire attack, or –

He shakes his head once more.

He’s feeling terribly confused at the moment.

God, he needs a cup of tea. A proper one, not one made in the microwave.

That’s when he hears it.

Water so often looks peaceful when it is not. Warm. Inviting.

Especially to those whose souls desperately yearn for salvation.

There is a darkness inside Mick Davies she can use.

She calls out to him as her forefathers used to do.

It’s in her nature.

To refrain from it has been her choice her whole life.

And even now, she doesn’t want to kill.

At least, not yet.

Desperately, he stumbles towards the call, the voice that promises he’ll find everything he needs.

Suddenly, there’s no more solid ground under his feet, water closes over his head, and he can’t breathe.

He looks nice enough, she supposes. Not like a homicidal maniac.

But then, Dean and Cas don’t look like the most adorable love doves in history either at first glance.

She’s frisked him, of course.

Holy water and a gun with silver bullets. Nothing that could hurt her.

She can keep the “air bubble” as Dean would probably call it with a wink up for a while. She’ll let him wake up on his own.

Eventually, his eyes flatter open.

Mel watches him getting his bearings with an amused smile. Humans. They’re so easily confused.

All the more reason the Winchesters are special.

“What – “ he tries to scramble away from her, but finds he can’t since there’s nothing for him to run to.

“Relax” she tells him. “Nothing will happen to you… right now.”

It doesn’t seem to reassure him, judging from the expression in his eyes, but he swallows and nods.

Well trained.

The Winchesters told her they were. To a certain grade.

“What are you?”

“Can’t you tell?” she laughs. “I thought you guys were supposed to be the experts.”

When he doesn’t answer, she opens her hand and lets a gentle stream trickle over her palm.

It feels good after several minutes in the air.

“You’re – you’re a water wraith” he breathes.

“So you do know.”

Somehow, he manages to stand up. Mel is impressed.

Sam was right. There is something there.

“Don’t reach for your gun. It wouldn’t work on me.”

Mel chuckles when she guesses his next thought.

“Holy water? Really? I think you are  out of your element ”.

“Just kill me” he spits in what she thinks is an attempt to be defiant, even though to her it’s mostly cute. Nothing like Dean and Cas when they want to look threatening. No one would dare cross their paths apart from –

Well, idiots.

“I don’t want to kill you.”

“Then why take me?”

“We need to talk”. After a pause she adds, “About the Winchesters.”

His eyes narrow.

“What about them?”

“I was hoping you’d be a bit more cooperative” she huffs. “This imbecile war you decided to wage upon them.”

“Imbecile? They killed one of ours!”

“Oh no” she mocks him, “not your… psycho.”

“Yes” she adds when he attempts to move farther away.

“I know all about Ketch”.

“Then you must understand – “

“Must I? That’s rich, coming from you. I’m just a monster, right? I’m something that needs to be exterminated, killed, wiped off the face of the earth. That’s how you think, isn’t it?”

And then she tells him something no human has ever heard before, not even her friends.

“We knew the English waters were empty, and we wept for them. We didn’t realize why. But we nature spirits? We are needed. We keep the streams clean, we look after the environment. Without us, there wouldn’t be the balance the earth needs to survive.”

Rage pounds through her. At the moment, she’d love nothing more than to drown him, make him feel what it is liked to be destroyed, but she can’t. She thinks of Dean, of Cas, of Sam, Crowley – she’s here to make an effort.

“But we would know – “

“Would you? Have you ever thought to  ask ?”

He looks away.

“I thought so. There are more things in heaven and earth than can be found in books and half-understood knowledge, Mick Davies.”

“How do you know – “

“Are you really so daft?”

She moves closer until he can’t step away anymore.

“I’ll tell you. The Winchester are my  friends . I know what your group is up to. And I wanted to show you what you are up  against . There are more friendly “monsters” than me. Many more. And many owe the Winchesters.”

“In that case, why don’t you just kill me? One Man of Letters you don’t have to worry about you.”

“Because unlike you I listen. And Sam assures me there is some worth in you. I’m not sure about that, but I do know there is something you are keeping deeply buried in your soul.”

“H- how?” he mumbles.

“There was a time when oceans and lakes were holy places to humans because they are gateways. How can I not?”

Finally, something like understanding dawns in his eyes.

“You will have to make a decision, Mick Davies. Be careful which side you choose.”

“Wait – “ he calls out just as she is about to bring him back to the water (surely he can swim to the surface) “I don’t even know your name!”

For the first time, she grants him a genuine smile.

“Mel.”

His beloved is still asleep.

So is Sam.

He’ll let them rest. They’ll all need their strength for the things that will come.

Meanwhile, Cas is making pancakes.

There are many who will never understand his choice to fall, but he made it that day, when Dean came to him, having left his family, choosing to come to him, only to him.

Whatever time they are given will mean more to him than the eternity he could have spent as an angel.

His phone rings.

It’s Mel.

He relaxes. It’s probably not an emergency, then. Mel calls at all hours.

In a way, he understands her better than Dean or Sam ever could.

He remembers what it’s like not to be human, but to adore them passionately.

“Mel”.

“Hey, Cas, there is news.”

“Good or bad?” he asks automatically.

Rituals have to be followed. The creatures they have befriended have decided to live a peaceful life; they owe them that much.

“Good!”

She sounds… excited.

“Sam said than one of them might be willing to… listen”.

He’s careful not to let her see that the comment worries him.

Mel is a wonderful friend, but she doesn’t feel like a human because she isn’t.

He remembers.

“So I talked to him.”

“You talked to Mick Davies?”

“Yes, and then I let him swim away. I think Sam’s right. We might make an ally there.”

That’s excellent news, really. They could use an inside man.

“I’d let him stew for a bit, though. He has to think.”

Thought has always been the enemy of conviction. How easy it all seemed at the beginning of the Apocalypse. But then, he didn’t know –

Warm arms wrap around him. He relaxes into his beloved’s hold.

“Morning, Cas” Dean whispers, kissing his neck.”

Mel laughs, happy, carefree, welcome like a spring in the dessert.

“If I know anything about you, it’s time to feed your fear-cèile. Give them my greetings, Cas.”

“I will.”

“Beannachd leat, Cas.“

“Mar sin leat, Mel.“

“Mel?“ Dean turns him around to kiss him properly after he hangs up.

“I’d ask “Is there news” but I can tell from your expression. What’s that gleam in your eyes for, angel?”

Later, he decides.

Right now, he’d rather kiss his hunter again. 

Now that’s Mel done the groundwork, they should try. Crowley’s right. The Men of Letters have been upgrading their firewall, and an inside man would be a good thing to have.

Dean has lied and been lied to so often in his life he could probably satisfy Carlo Collodi’s nose fetish if the guy was still alive.

And long noses due to lying were actually a thing.

The point stands.

And the point standing as it does, he’s decided to use another approach on Mick.

Because if the guy is somewhat smart, like Sam says, and seems to be willing to listen, as Mel told them, he should be interested in what they have to explain.

“Sam” he asks one night, “do you still have your broken phone?”

He flinches slightly before he answers. Mom’s text really did a number on him.

Dean still can’t bring himself to care. Another deadbeat parent called him names, boo hoo. He’s found his family.

Cas strolls into the kitchen and gets himself another cup of coffee (Dean has no idea why, but dude can put away a gallon each night and still be able to sleep) before pressing a kiss to his lips.

Dean’s so busy grinning he almost overhears Sam’s answer.

 “Yeah, in a drawer somewhere. Why?”

“Great. I can sue it to pull numbers, then. I want to have a little chat with Mick.”

Sam’s eyes widen.

Dean shrugs.

“I haven’t really had a chance to introduce myself yet. It’s been two weeks; time to see if Mel’s magic worked on him.”

Not literally, of course. As far as they know, she went easy on him.

But these Men of Letters are not used to anything. He probably thinks he escaped by the hair of his teeth.

“You need any help with getting the data?” Sam asks when he hands him the phone.

It’s something he would have asked before this all went down, but his expression and tone have changed. There’s no more condescension or actual wonder if he’s clever enough to hack into a broken phone.

Sometimes Dean wonders if Sam notices how much they have changed.

It’s all been for the better though, for once.

“Almost there” he calls out some time later when he hears someone entering the library.

“I never doubted it, darling.”

Ah. Crowley. He’s been wandering where he’s been the last few days, always busy.

“So” he announces, sitting down next to Dean, “you boys have quite a few more fans than I anticipated.”

“Meaning?” he asks.

“Meaning, in a case of emergency there are at least thirty sheriffs around the country who would love to find a reason to arrest some interfering Brits.”

“What?”

“Also, remember Lizzie Hexam?”

Dean frowns.

“The one whose husband started turning into a rugaru when she got pregnant? Don’t tell me he – “

“No, no, he’s doing well. I checked. Added a few extra pounds of raw meat to their freezer. But my point is, you managed to earn the undying gratitude of one of the FBI’s finest.”

“She said she’s an accountant.”

“Exactly. One of the best the FBI’s ever had.”

“So you... ran around the country alerting the law that happens to be on our side?”

It’s so much like Crowley and at the same time it isn’t.

But he’s starting to wonder when he actually finds the time to check on things in Hell.

“You all need to sleep” Crowley answers his question without him having to ask it.

“Thanks, Crowley.”

The demon shrugs.

They’ve never really acknowledged that they basically moved in with the King of Hell, apart from Sam asking if he had a room.

And he’s certainly around for movie nights and usually for their meals.

“Cas said you will be trying to make contact with 7?”

Dean raises an eyebrow.

“They hardly warrant the double zero, Squirrel.”

Dean huffs.

“Yeah, well. Mel’s already started working on him, I just want to---“

“Assess the situation?”

“Something like that.”

“He doesn’t stand a chance” Crowley says abruptly. “You can be very... persuasive.”

Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Must be that obnoxious Righteousness”.

“Yep, that’s me” Dean flashes him a grin.

The silence that follows as he finishes getting the relevant numbers from the phone is comfortable. Familiar.

Who ever thought Crowley would end up a part of team free will one day?

Dean wastes no time calling once he’s got the number. Their new homes is shielded from any kind of sensors just like the bunker, plus Mick’s bound to have a few questions by now, if he’s as clever as the others think he is.

“Good evening.”

Who even answers like that when they don’t recognize the number? Dean rolls his eyes.

“Hi 007. Dean Winchester speaking.”

Mick’s breath hitches. They haven’t really talked before, unless they count Dean being annoyed at the Men’s of Letters simple presence.

“What do you want?”

“Now, that’s no way of talking to someone” he points out.

Alright, maybe he wants to have a little fun, too. After all, thanks to these pricks he was pretty unhappy for a while.

Now, though? Now he has his angel, his brother, his best friends all under one roof.

And the Men of Letters?

They’ve got Mary, of course. If anyone can be said to have her. She marches to her own beat.

Even if that beat is off the freaking rails.

“There is no reason for you to call me” Mick answers, “unless, of course, you have realized that your ways – “

“Thanks, I got the lecture the first time around. No, I’m calling because of Mel – remember your little chat?”

He doesn’t answer immediately.

“Let me remind you. Rather small but fiery girl, headstrong, has an affinity for water – “

“I know what you are talking aboutz” Mick snaps.

“Just trying to help.”

“What could you possibly have to tell me about that? That you set her up for it? I was rather sure that were the case – “

Good God, he can practically feel the accent vibrate through the phone.

“It was her idea. She thought she could try and reason with you jolly good folk”.

Maybe he shouldn’t imitate his accent, but he can’t help it.

“And what did she hope to achieve?”

“Tell me you haven’t been thinking”.

“There it is” he adds when only another silence follows.

“I haven’t – it’s not – she’s a monster – “

“Oh no, she keeps the water cleans and eats fish.”

“Alright, maybe she – “

“She’s got a name, you know.”

Of course he’s manipulating Mick. It’s harder to kill something you can call by its first name.

“Mel might not be dangerous, but others – “

“And what if they try their hardest? We actually met a potential rugaru who’s been keeping himself from taking that final bite.”

“That’s impossible. Our data shows – “

“Ever considered there are some things you can’t learn from a book?”

“We prefer not to have our colleagues die try-“

He breaks off, breathing heavily.

There’s a story there. has to be. Dean files it away for the time being. No reason to ride the guy hard right from the start.

He needed time too, after they met Leonor. He needed time to understand not everything was black and white.

“If you say so” he replies simply. “Just wanted to make sure you haven’t forgotten. Should I stay on the line or have you already figured out this call can’t be traced?”

“It appears to be so.”

Dean chuckles.

“If you ever decide you could use a broader perspective, you’ve got my number now.”

“Why do you think I would?”

“Because I know from Sam that you have IT experts, and yet I didn’t hear a peep. You traced the call yourself.”

He hangs up without another word.

It appears he has woefully underestimated Dean Winchester.

Sam barely spoke of him, and Mary is convinced he’s nothing more than the brawn to the brains.

He should have known. There has to be a reason why Sam would rather hunt with him than use their intel and weapons.

Mick prefers their easy, clean hunts.

Although...

No, he’s not doubting their approach. Of course not. He learned not to at Kendricks’.

But Dean Winchester didn’t kill his best friend. Dean Winchester raised his brother while on the hunt and made friends of monsters who don’t harm humans...

He tries not to think about it.

But it’s difficult with Mary Winchester soon breezing into their base, talking about several ghouls she took out.

Mick remembers that ghouls can live off dead meat, too.

And then he starts to wonder how many of those she killed did just that, instead of killing humans to fulfil their needs.

He is no fool. He knows Mel and Dean Winchester were trying to manipulate him.

But if things might be as he’s starting to suspect they are, he might just not mind all that much.

The Men of Letters manipulate people as well, and Mary Winchester...

That night, when Dr. Hess asks him after his report “Is there anything else, Mr. Davies?” he hesitates but stays silent.

Because a part of him already knows he’ll call Dean Winchester back.

He lets Mick stew for a few days.

Dean knows he’s being manipulative as hell. He’s no idiot. Maybe Crowely rubbed off on him. Who cares.

If it means they gain an advantage – and one of the Men of Letters sees reason – it’s worth it in his book.

Exactly five days after he called the last time, he does it again.

“Hi Mick. You alone?”

“I wouldn’t have picked up if I wasn’t.”

“Where do you even live? Spy central?”

“I am sure you remember the location.”

Sometimes he reminds Dean of Cas in former years.

“You sound awful”.

He really does.

“It’s not... been a good week.”

“Man I remember those.”

Before he decided to throw the rule book out of the window. Before he went to see Cas. Before life became actually... a succession of good days, with a few bad ones thrown in, rather than the other way around.

“Hey, at least it’s the weekend, right?”

“As if that makes a difference.”

It does for them now. Dean usually makes a nice Sunday dinner, when he can. It makes them feel more at home.

The mansion is really growing on them all.

That’s they way he can do it, he knows – once and for all draw Mick to their side. Small, seemingly unimportant conversations. Show him he cares.

It’s how cults do it too, although Dean doesn’t want him to blindly follow them. No, he wants him to prove that he has a freaking brain and say no to genocide.

He knows he’s gained a small step when Mick starts dialling his number as well.

 It doesn’t take long for Mick to figure out why he keeps calling him.

Dean Winchester is... dangerously seductive.

Despite knowing that he’s manipulating him, there’s something so open, so honest in his manner –

And he’s fiendishly clever.

Something they never even considered.

Not even Mary has. She sees Dean as the brawn to Sam’s brains, unable to think clearly, which is why he left, according to her. And Sam? He’s just being influenced by his big brother.

Mick agrees with the last statement, only that he no longer sees it as a bad thing.

Dean Winchester is very intelligent, extremely persuasive, and he knows when to stop.

And slowly, Mick can feel himself being drawn over to their side.

And he’s not even trying to stop it.

It’s not Dean Winchester alone.

It’s his talk with Mel, too.

And the fact that they are all so open with one another. During their phone calls, Castiel or Sam or even the King of Hell or a monster may walk in at any time, and Dean will only explain “Talking to Mick” and move on. There’s no deception. Not anymore.

Whereas with the Men of Letters, Mick has constantly tried to suppress the memory of his best friend dying at his hands.

And, one night, impossibly, inconceivably, he actually tells Dean Winchester about it, about his best friend, the steely glare of Dr. Hess, all of it.

It’s been a hard day. Mary called with news that she killed another family of shapeshifters (another thing Dean has taught him – most monsters actually consider themselves families and not nests or packs) and he can’t get rid of the picture in his head of a young boy dying at a mother’s hand, a mother who thinks she’s doing all of this for the best of her sons, nonetheless, and he keeps hearing Dr. Hess’ voice as she told them Only one of you leaves this room alive, and and and –

“And then I did it. I cut Tim’s throat. I can still feel – there was so much blood. But when he told me we could leave, I – I didn’t know where we could go. Kendricks was the only home I’d ever known.”

“That’s freaking nuts, man” Dean breathes when he’s done. “That’s sick. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we’ve all done some things we regret, and our childhood wasn’t exactly playing in a yard surrounded by a white picket fence, but telling you to kill your best friend...”

“You do realize this means you’ve won” Mick says, so tired of everything, of the Men of Letters, of Hess, of Mary Winchester’s crusade.”

“Because you wanted me to win.”

Again: Dean Winchester is dangerously intelligent.

“Plus, come on, wouldn’t you rather be with the fun crazy squad than the genocidal tea drinkers?”

“I object to that. Our tea making skills are far superior”.

And Dean laughs.

It’s the first time he’s made him laugh, and it’s mesmerizing.

He’s beginning to understand how an angel could fall for him.

“Yeah, well – “

“Your mother is determined to wipe out monsters in America” he blurts out. “Also, Dr. Hess – my boss – wishes to eliminate you and your brother and boyfriend, however I don’t think anyone’s realized how many connections you have yet – “

“Hey, slow down.”

Dean’s serious again.

“Look man, it’s nice to know that you don’t think of monsters as vermin anymore, but what you’re doing now... That’s treason. They’ll see it that way. There’s no going back from this.”

“There hasn’t been for a while” he admits, to Dean as well as to himself.

“If you’re sure – “

“I am” he says, meaning it. He has been for a while, even if he didn’t realize it. Maybe ever since Mel let him walk away.

He’d like to see her again, actually. What she told him about nature spirits was fascinating. He wants to hear more about it.

And maybe, just maybe, he has been thinking about her now and then just as a person. Not a spirit. Not a monster.

Just Mel.

“Alright, then. As long as you’re sure.”

Whether it’s true or not, he has the feeling Dean is actually concerned for him, and it feels... strange. After so many years of just trying to be the best so someone would notice him, it’s... good.

“I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks. That helps a lot”.

It’s an understatement, and they both know it.

He still hasn’t spoken to Sam since he left. It’s only been Dean, but it’s been enough.

He’s heard Sam shuffling around in the background, asking Dean what he wants to eat.

He’s heard Castiel entering the room and strolling over, stealing a gentle kiss, murmuring “Connie called”.

He’s heard the King of Hell casually putting a drink in front of Dean, “But just one, Squirrel, you know how it is.”

And he’s heard monsters of all kinds around them, encouraging, friendly, protective.

The Winchesters have created a family of their own, not normal by any standards, but one that will die for them.

It’s everything he’s ever craved.

He was lost as soon as he set foot unto American soil.

Just after they’ve hung up, Mary enters his room, as usual without knocking.

How she came to think she has any right to do so, he can’t imagine.

It’s not much, the small space he’s been allowed to call his own, but it’s still the closest to having something that belongs to him he’s ever come.

“Yes, Mary?” he asks casually.

He’s become quite good at lying. He assumes it comes with the territory when you befriend the Winchesters.

“I have a lead on a few of the vamps that escaped”.

When her son killed the Alpha. Everything seemed so easy, back then. Sam was suddenly on their side and he promised to work on Dean.

And then Dean vanished and no one realized how important a decision he had made.

“Yes?” he asks.

Her eyes narrow.

He knows she’s suspicious of him. Has been for a while.

“I would think you’d consider this news more important.”

“It is important, but it’s also been a long day” he replies.

It seems to satisfy her.

Dean is only slightly surprised when he gets the email. After all Mick seemed already pretty convinced.

“Guys” he calls out, strolling into the kitchen.

Crowley’s the first to appear because he literally can.

“What is it Squirrel?”

“Are you ever going to get sick of that nickname, Boris?”

“Not in this lifetime. So what is it? More cute baby pictures from Satan junior?”

Kelly has decided to treat them as something like godparents to the kid, constantly sending pictures and updates.

Not that Dean would call the devil’s spawn cute, but well...

“No. Mick’s been in contact.”

“What does he want?” Sam asks, coming through the door.

There’s this flash of guilt on his face again. Dean has made his peace with the year they spent apart, Sam hasn’t. Yet.

He will in time, Dean’s sure.

“They’ve got a lead on a few of the vampires who’re still well after their little extermination.”

Again, Sam grimaces.

“Do we know anything about them?” Cas asks, putting a hand on the small of Dean’s back. He relaxes into the touch.

“Ugh, if you start with that, I better give you the short version. “No, but we have someone here who still has his powers, so Crowley, magnificent Majesty, would you be kind enough to fulfil our humble request to check it out?”

“Just the words I would have used” Sam drawls.

Crowley raises an eyebrow but disappears.

“He’s really grown on you, hasn’t he” Dean says.

Sam shrugs.

“The library’s really well-stocked.”

“Right? That Austen set, dude.”

Cas chuckles.

“You cry about Captain Wentworth’s letter every time.”

“Because it’s the damn most romantic thing ever written, and I stand by that.”

“I agree. Two souls longing for each other finally coming together...”

“Okay, Crowley was right. You two are at times insuffer-“

“Glad to hear you agree with me for once” Crowley interrupts him cheerfully.

“Found them.”

“And would your magnificent Majesty please indulge the information?” Dean asks after a few moments of silence.

“I knew you had it in you. Mind, I didn’t get too close. They are rather... spooked”.

Dean nods.

“That’s okay, we can at least try and set them up with Connie or Garth.”

Crowley hands him the paper with their location.

“Okay then guys, hunting –“

“It’s not really a hunting trip, is it” Sam interrupts him.

“Hey, as good a name as any.”

They leave it at that.

A few days later, Mick gets a reply.

Handled it. Most of them weren’t blood suckers at all. Alright, you know what I mean. They go vegetarian as far as they can.

He smiles, feeling better about the end of the mission than he has in a long time.

To his surprise, there’s another email, and it’s not from the Winchesters. If he doesn’t consider their friends honorary Winchesters, that is.

Hi Mick, 
I’m going to visit a few water spirits near you in a few weeks. I was wondering if you want to meet up while I’m in town?
Mel.

So they let her know where their base is. Fine by him.

“What are you smiling about?” Elton asks.

“Nothing. Just good news from a friend.”

“Back home?”

He thinks of Kendricks.

“Something like it.”

He’d lie if he said he wasn’t nervous about seeing Mel again, standing at the edge of a small pond two weeks later.

Before he can wonder how he’s supposed to call her, she steps out of it quickly, gracefully, water cascading down her body, and he tries and fails not to notice how beautiful she can be when he isn’t scared for his life.

“Hello, Mick”.

“Good evening, Mel.”

She waits, then chuckles.

“Guess you still have a few things to learn. Don’t worry about it. How have you been?”

“I’ve been... talking to Dean.”

“And you’re obviously not here to kill me. Already improving, I see.”

He looks away. There’s a part of him who still believes what’s been drilled into him since that day he stole the Babylonian coin and found himself first choking on the street, then safe (as he thought then) in Kendricks.

But another, stronger part is curious, alert. Needs to know. Needs to experience.

It’s a pleasant evening, the sun slowly setting.

“Won’t they miss you?” she asks.

He shakes his head.

“We’re not really friends, and as long as they can reach me...”

“Sounds lonely.”

“Being a water wraith does, too”.

“It’s not like that”. She reaches down, lets the water flow through her fingers.

“As I said, I am visiting friends, and I am never alone. Along as I am near...” she trails off, watching the waves she’s creating.

She’s utterly fascinating.

Years later, he will know that this is where it all began, at a small pond no one cared for, dusk falling over them.

Something is wrong.

In the past two months, barely any missions have gone the way they were supposed to. Monsters escape, hunters leave as soon as they enter a town, and they still haven’t wiped out all vamps.

Something is terribly, terribly wrong.

It doesn’t take Mary long to realize that this string of failures can’t be a coincidence, especially since things went so well in the beginning.

Her boys alone can’t ruin the Men of Letters. It’s impossible. There’s only two of them after all, plus the angel.

It doesn’t take her long to figure out that there must be a mole within the organization, warning monsters, alienating hunters.

There aren’t many who have enough intel to cause serious damage.

But there is one she’s been suspecting for a while now.

Mick Davies has been behaving strangely. He’s on his phone a lot (she’s heard him talk while passing by his room) and has obviously withdrawn from his colleagues.

Elton and Willoughby don’t think it strange.

“He’s always been something of an outsider“ Elton tells her. Willoughby nods.

“He’s an odd duck.”                           

That’s not a good enough explanation for her, though.

So she keeps nagging them. She doesn’t feel comfortable with computers yet sadly, at least not enough to hack them, so they have to do it.

And finally, Elton caves. He mumbles something about “calling Dr. Hess”, who Mary has yet to speak to, but eventually decides to wait until they have proof.

And they find it.

Right there in his... inbox. The first message is from –

Dean: Hey, thanks for the info. Got them out in time.

It’s far from the only email.

“What are we supposed to do?” Willoughby mumbles when they tell him.

“We have to inform Dr. Hess” Elton answers.

“And what then? We used to hand over such cases to Ketch, but...”

“We’ll deal” Mary says simply. She’s always done what needs to be done.

It won’t be a problem.

Willoughby shoots her a look she doesn’t understand, but nods.

“You’ll call Hess?” he asks Elton, who complies.

Once they have informed their boss, things begin to fall into place.

Because he has served the men of Letters for many years, he will not be killed immediately. Dr. Hess wants to come over personally and investigate just how bad the situation is.

All in all, she sounds like a sensible woman.

So, first they’ll arrest him and put him in one of the cells in their base.

Really, it should all work out fine, except that Elton moves too quickly, speaks a little too nervously when Mick enters the room they’ve been waiting for him in, and Mick notices.

She didn’t think he would. She’s never thought much of him since the Alpha incident. They’d have been lost without Sam.

But he takes one look at Elton and flees –

In his room?

Rather strange strategy, if you ask her.

They eventually break the door open and find Mick having utterly trashed his phone.

He even put it on fire.

Naturally, this makes them all the more curious what he’s hiding, but the data’s gone.

And he’s not talking.

Somehow, Dean immediately feels antsy the second his phone rings. And that’s not nearly as much the usual case it as used to be, so he immediately tenses up.

“Mick?” he asks.                                 

“Dean. They know. I expect –“

He can hear someone hammering at a door, presumably Mick’s.

“You won’t be hearing from me anymore. Be careful.”

He hangs up. Dean knows better than to call back.

And to think Mick actually sounded like he believes they’ll do nothing.

He darts into the library where Sam and Cas are currently coordinating another hunt of Garth’s.

“Where’s Crowley?”

“Ah, Squirell, you do care.”

Of course as soon as he mentions him the demon is standing behind him.

“We need to get to the Men of letter’s place. Now. Mick’s in trouble.”

“What happened?” Sam asks.

“He just said “they know””.

“Do you think Mary will be there?” Cas asks calmly.

Dean shrugs carelessly.

“Whatever, we can take her. And we can’t leave Mick in there. Remember vampire spy?”

Sam flinches and nods.

“Good then, rescue mission.”

He turns to Crowley.

“As soon as we have all our weapons, you’ll take us as close as you can.”

“I think I almost heard a please there-“

Dean rolls his eyes.

“Then, please, your Majesty will be kind enough to wait until we either get rid of the warding or join you, so we can go home?”

“Of course”.

He’s surprised there’s no sassy comment to accompany his acquiescence, but even Crowley knows wghen time is of the essence.

And the Men of Letters don’t like to waste time. At all.

God knows they almost eradicated vamps within a short amount of months.

It’s remarkably easy to break into their base. Then again, Sam does know the place well.

“Thank God you know about the back door” Dean mutters as they slowly walk down another corridor (he couldn’t stay here for a week, it’s way too cold and impersonal. Give him their new home at the lake with the King of Hell playing pool at all times of the day he wants anytime).

“I’ll check out the holding cells”. Sam told them about them a few months ago. What really irked Dean is that they’re clearly built to hold humans as well as monsters – that is, there are some that aren’t even warded at all.

They nod and Cas draws him into a kiss before turning around.

They grilled him for a few hours, but it wasn’t too bad. Toni Bevell is still in London, thank God, and Dean all but confessed to him a few days ago that Ketch is permanently out of the picture.

It won’t stop them from doing unspeakable things to him when Dr. Hess arrives, though.

He only hopes he’ll have the strength to withstand them long enough for the Winchesters to get to safety.

And yet – he doesn’t regret one bit of it.

He’s starting to suspect it’s the one decent thing he’s ever done in his life.

His hands are starting to hurt. Elton put the handcuffs on too tightly on purpose.

No one could be more surprised than Mick Davies when the door opens and the one who appears, instead of the cruel investigators he has been expecting, is Dean Winchester.

The look on Mick’s face is freaking priceless. He has to remember it for later.

“Dean?”

“Hi, Mick. Need a hand?”

He can already tell the handcuffs are on too tight.

British bastards.

“What are you doing here?”

“Breaking you out.”

“But the – “

Dean is already working on the lock of the cell.

“How do you – “

“Practice. You do that six hours a day as a kid, you learn.”

“I studied something else at the time.”

“I bet. You can walk?”

He doesn’t look hurt, but you never know.

He’s already getting up.

“Ketch isn’t around anymore.”

Boy, does that have implications. He’s certainly not sorry for turning the psycho over to Crowley.

“They were going to wait anyway until Dr. Hess comes here.”

“Who?”

“My boss.”

“Ah, Mrs. Danvers. Got it.”

He gets the door open.

“Come on”.

He quickly checks his cuffs.

“Damn it”.

Mick’s hands are already red and swollen. Dean makes quick work of the handcuffs.

“Thank you” Mick says, rubbing his wrists.

“Yeah, thank me when we’re out of here.”

He gets a text.

“Cas and Sam have found eleven wardings so far. How many are there?”

“40.”

“Biblical number meaning death. Why doesn’t that surprise me” he mutters as he sends the answer, but tells them it might be unnecessary to go through with the plan since Mick is able to walk.

Meet us at the stairway.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be familiar with Daphne du Maurier’s work” Mick begins quite unexpectedly (must be the small talk imbedded in his blood), “although it can be argued the house does have an almost supernatural – “

“Yeah, look, can we get out of here first before we start nerding out? That’d be great.”

Mick nods.

At least he hasn’t been in that cell too long. Thank God for demon beaming.

Sam and Cas obviously didn’t run into any problems either.

“Sam” Mick says, “Castiel. It’s good to see you again.”

He makes no difference between his brother and his angel, for which Dean is grateful. He doesn’t want Sam to beat himself up over their association more than he already has.

Then, naturally, it all goes to Hell. Or maybe not. Hell isn’t much of a threat these days.

“What are you doing?”

“Hello, Mary” Dean greets their mother evenly. She’s holding a gun, but at least she’s not pointing it at them.

He’s shocked at how little he cares to see her. Just two years ago, when she came back, he couldn’t have been happier. Now he doesn’t even consider her part of the family.

For God’s sake, the guy they are breaking out has done more for them than she has.

“We figured we’d save Mick here before your posh friends torture him to death”.

“He’s a traitor” she hisses. Her eyes wander to Sam.

It’s easy to tell what she’s thinking.

Dean laughs. He can’t help it.

Cas steps closer to him, his warmth reminding him of all that he gained the day he finally said no to his family and let those who wished to join come to him for a change.

“Seriously? You only consider Sammy the traitor? I was never on your radar much, was I, Mom.”

What mother would let her kid comfort her after she and her husband had a fight, after all?

“You left” she says, “you left and then you manipulated Sam – “

“We didn’t even talk before I left!” Sam snaps. “If anyone manipulated me from the start, it was you! I should never have turned my back on Dean. He was always there for me!”

“It’s not my fault I wasn’t” Mary says softly and the fact that Dean can’t tell if she’s genuinely sad or just trying to get into their good graces again is horrifying on its own.

“But you could have been there for them later” Mick chimes in and Dean suddenly realizes he’s more qualified to discuss things with Mary because he’s spent the most time with her.

This is all so...

Cas gently touches his wrist at the same time he feels it.

They turn around, their weapons drawn.

Wonderful. More Brits.

“And who do you happen to be?”

“The Winchesters” snarls one of them, “why am I not surprised?”

“Elton and Willoughby” Mick introduces them.

Dean blinks.

“Are you kidding me? Like – “

Mick coughs while Sam looks confused.

“Yes. They don’t like to talk about it.”

“I bet.”

“Look, I think we all agree no one here wants to shoot anyone else. Why don’t you just leave the traitor here. We know what to do with him.”

“That’s why we’ve come to rescue him” Cas simply answers.

“And I don’t really think planning to kill us means we’re at peace” Dean points out.

“Davies” Elton begins –

“Don’t” Mick interrupts him. “Nothing you could say would change my mind.”

Huh. Dean underestimated him. And that impression is only going to strengthen.

As it turns out, they haven’t counted on Mary. Yes, Sam and Mick are both watching her – and thank God the Man of Letters doesn’t freeze like Sam.

Not that Dean blames. If he actually saw Mary raise her gun, God knows what he would do.

But Mick – still pretty high on adrenaline, Dean bets – manages to tackle her just in time.

And then all Hell breaks loose.

Literally.

Mary’s screaming “Why can’t you see I just want what’s the best for you – “ when Dean feels the floor vibrate.

It’s a familiar feeling.

A few seconds later, thousands of demons attack and break the wards.

It’s easy enough when you’re powerful enough as an army to tear down walls.

Crowley appears and flicks his wrist to throw Mary of Mick, although to his credit, he simply puts her gently on the ground while Elton and Willoughby get thrown into the next standing wall hard enough to crack their skulls.

“You were taking too long” he explains casually.

“Ready to go?”  

“Ready when you are.”

A blink later they’re at home.

“God” Sam sighs, sinking into a chair.

“She was going to – and I just froze –“

“Relax, Moose. It’s your mother. Everyone is a little soft when it comes to that subject.”

Cas reaches out to Dean.

“Are you alright?”

Dean nods.

“You are the King of Hell” Mick says dumbly, while Dean is checking up on Sam.

Crowley waves at him.

“Crowley’s the name. And you’re Mick Davies, I understand.”

“Mick Davies, Man of – “ he breaks off, looking confused.

Then, slowly, he says, “I guess I’m a hunter, now.”

“Don’t worry, you should have seen those three when I first met them. Hopeless, I tell you.”

Sam laughs at that. Dean and Cas, relieved, join him.

Looks like they found themselves another roommate.

Mick’s been with them for a week when Sam decides to properly talk to him.

He’s well aware that he’s been cowardly hiding in the library most of the time since he came to join them, but the memory of him letting Dean walk away and following orders for a year still stings.

Some days, he can’t believe how ungrateful he’s been.

On others, he can only too well.

Dean’s long forgiven him, of course. As he always does.

Same with Cas.

And Crowley... It’s Crowley. God knows what he’s thinking half of the time.

But he did show up to help them just because he was worried, and he’s given them a new home.

And he’s been nothing but helpful and accommodating – as they’ve learned, many humans wouldn’t do all that Crowley has done for them.

He’s procrastinating, and he knows it.

The point is he knows only too well what it means to march away from the drums and try to relearn another beat.

Plus, Dean told them about Mick’s upbringing.

Their childhood was far from ideal, but his formative years...

He’s not in the room they gave him.

Huh, the Jane Austen set from their library is lying on his bedside table. Sam should really ask what all the laughter he and Dean have shared is all about.

He finds him in the room with the pool table – “the play room” as Crowley dubbed it with his usual constraint and modesty – just sitting down and reading Charles Dickens.

It was one of the things that confused him most.

“What’s this room for?”

“I do wonder” Crowley answers, exaggerating his own accent. “There seems to be a certain device that enables one to play a game, which one would be unable to find anywhere else in the house.”

“What his Highness wants to say” Dean chimes in “is that we play pool here”. He winked at Cas.

“Absolutely perfect for lessons how to do it the right way.”

Sam is rather glad he hasn’t witnessed one of those lessons yet.

“So you have a room just for a game” Mick states, still staring at the table. “It seems a little... frivolous.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Doctor Trevelyan, we like frivolous here.”

“The Adventure of the Resident Patient?” Cas asks while Dean just shakes his head at Crowley.

“What? Still young, somewhat smart, should have noticed his employer was a criminal. Fits the bill.”

He seems to have gotten over his surprise at their being a room just to relax in.

Apart from the swimming pool. And the rooftop with the great view of the lake. And several other rooms that just keep popping up spontaneously.

“Hey. How are you?”

Mick looks up.

“I’m doing well. I just needed a little time to myself... Kelly called Dean to gush over Luci – I mean Aidan”.

Sam can imagine that it might take him some time to get used to the devil’s son being a normal child.

“And your... room?”

Sam’s come to recognize that Dean’s always been better at human interaction than he gave him credit for. Dean just gets people instinctively.

Mick smiles.

“It was very kind of you to take me in.”

“You helped us.”

Mick nods.

“I doubt I would have before...” he trails off.

Before Dean walking away. Before Sam joining him. Before Mick meeting Mel.

The possibilities are quite endless, but Sam doesn’t press him.

“I am sorry about your mother”. He shifts in his chair. “I already told Dean, but he said not to worry.”

“Dean was... sceptical from the moment he saw how different she was from the woman he remembered.”

“And you weren’t.”

It’s a statement. And it’s true.

How can it not be, with Mick and Sam having been paired off in countless killing missions? And yet he barely knows the guy. They never talked about private stuff.

“I get it” Mick says softly. “I don’t remember my parents, but if I could meet them...”

Dean was right about yet another thing yesterday, Sam realizes.

“You think they have a weird British cult thing going on? The Men of Letters?” Dean asks once Mick’s retired for the night.

“What do you mean?” Sam answers.

“Guy’s accent is much less noticeable now that he’s not constantly surrounded by Harry Potter wannabes”.

Dean shudders at his own reference.

Mick definitely sounds more like an actual person instead of a caricature. In time, they might even be able to pass him off as a fed.

Sam nods.

“It was overwhelming.”

So overwhelming he almost forgot about the part of his family who’d always been there for him, right from the start.

They fall silent.

Eventually, to break the slight tension, Sam says, “I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s that about the Men of Letters and Jane Austen?”

His very first night here, he heard Dean and Mick talking about it as he entered the kitchen.

Mick grins.

“Elton and Willoughby are both antagonists in her works.”

“Seriously?”

“They don’t like it being mentioned for a reason.”

Sam laughs.

“Did Dean tell you he actually quotes her books to Cas when he wants to be romantic?”

“I can imagine.”

Sam bets he can. Dean and Cas see no point in hiding their relationship even a little bit. Not that they make out in front of other people, but holding hands? Small kisses? Bright, happy grins? Check, check and check.

Another example is just around the corner, since a few moments later a happily smiling Dean pulls Cas into the room.

“Hey guys, I was looking for you. Mel’s here.”

“Where?” Mick asks.

“The swimming pool. Think she wants to make sure you’re alright, since she was the first monster to make contact with you.”

She also wrote emails to Mick and met up with him at least once, they know. He hasn’t mentioned it yet but is aware they know.

It’s part of the new honesty Sam has really come to cherish in this new chapter of their lives.

“The water wraith... wants to see me... and has come to temporarily reside... in the swimming pool” Mick says slowly. “Alright”.

He’s trying his best to get used to their usual madness as quickly as possible.

Dean winks at him.

“Trust me, that’s nothing. Come on.”

They pass Crowley in the corridor.

“I would have thought you’d inform me we had a guest. I’m still living here, you know”.

“No one said you weren’t. Stop moping” Dean replies as he strolls past him, still holding Cas’ hand.

“Still feeling alright?” Sam asks.

“It’s... different. At Kendricks, things were... strange too. But it never felt like this”.

They’re walking slower than the others.

“We were always confronted with the supernatural too, if just in theory. And we were always taught to fear it. We certainly weren’t supposed to... eat dinner with the King of Hell.”

“Or have a drink with him” Sam recalls, grinning.

They found out on Mick’s third night here that despite his apparent iron liver he’s no match for Crowley’s Craig.

 They had to bring him to bed that night.

“Knew he couldn’t deal with everything so smoothly” Dean says smugly. “Told me he had never been drunk in his life”.

“He’s still dead weight” Sam reminds him.

“Speaking of which” Cas grunts, struggling with them to keep him upright.

“Crowley?”

“But it’s so much fun to watch” the demon whines. “Fine.”

With a flicker of his wrist, Mick’s in his room.

“Yes, now that you mention it.”

“Come on. Mel can be... tempestuous.”

And they quickly walk the rest of the way.

"Hey, lovebirds!”

Dean and Cas have barely made it through the door but Mel’s already waving at them, looking as at home in the swimming pool as a –

Well.

“Hi Mel.”

“Figure I’d come and check on you. See how the newest house guest is faring.”

She’s so focused on making sure they are all safe – Dean knows that look of seemingly being relaxed while on high alert at the same time, he used to see it in his mirror daily – that she doesn’t even use the old Gaelic ritual. She just comes straight to the point.

“He was a little shaken that we had to burst him out, but nothing too bad.”

“Thanks to yours truly” Crowley adds, appearing next to them.

Apparently walking was too much work.

“Ah, the mistress of the waves.”

“Your Majesty”.

“And how are you?”

Her gaze, full of age and wisdom and the secrets nature spirits keep, slide over Dean’s face.

He smiles. He knows it’s a pained smile, but Cas is holding his hand. He’ll be ok.

“I’m fine.”

There was a time when these words were always, invariably, a lie. When they meant “I am not fine in any shape or form, but I know I have to be so things don’t fall apart”.

But this time is long gone. Has been for so long sometimes it’s difficult to remember that he didn’t always wake up to Cas’ blue eyes looking at him as if he’s the most beautiful soul ever created, Crowley grumpily putting breakfast on the motel room table, Sam happily bouncing in eventually with the news of the day.

“Really, I – “

“I can tell” she says simply.

Sam and Mick come in.

“Ah, there he is.”

She smiles at Mick.

“Just wanted to see the newest member of the team and bid him welcome.”

There is indeed a welcome there, but a threat too.

Mick gets it.

Strangely, he knows exactly that he’s asleep.

He remembers the events of the day, Mel’s visit, the way her eyes lingered on him before she left, how Dean clapped his shoulder with a firm, warm hand, laughing about a joke he made at dinner, how long it took him to fall asleep.

He’s in an empty room. There’s nothing there apart from a desk and two seats.

Not even windows.

“Man, I was starting to think your kind doesn’t need any rest!”

He turns away from the blank wall he’s been studying.

Someone’s sitting at the table, grinning at him. The tattoos and blue glowing eyes make it easy to realize what he is.

“You’re a djinn”.

Mick had no idea they possess the ability to dreamwalk.

His grin grows even brighter.

“Hey, I’m Al. I’m a friend of the boys’”.

“Mick  -“

“Davies, I know. Mel told me she’d been to see you. I couldn’t resist.”

“I see”.

“Come on, sit down!”

He does.

“Like I said, just wanted to drop in. Meet the new member of the team.”

Mick isn’t so naive as not to understand.

“My days were numbered with the Men of Letters. They saved me. I have no intention of paying them back by betraying them.”

Al’s grin drops as he studies him, and Mick has the feeling that his subconscious is being searched. Can djinns do that?

Then, Al laughs, relieved and happy.

“True. I can see that.”

He cocks his head to the side.

“You know what?”

He’s a little too excited for his liking.

“Oh, I bet you’ll love this!”

The next thing he knows, they are standing in a hospital room. A very young woman – she’s probably not out of her late teens yet – is holding a baby in her arms, tears running down her face. A boy not much older than her is looking at them both, wearing a similar expression of pain.

“Alice, I –“

“You don’t have to say it, Hugh. I know we are doing this for a reason. We are giving him a chance. I just wanted us to be together for a few minutes as a family.”

She smiles down at the baby.

“My little Mick... You’ll have to be so brave...”

He doesn’t hear anything else she says.

Because – because –

If djinns can touch his subconscious, they can bring back memories, and if that baby is called Mick, then these are his –

His –

“I thought it’d be nice if you got to see them, it’s no trouble, really – “

Al looks at his face and pales.

“Oh God – I didn’t mean – sorry, man, I – “

Mick feels a pull as he is thrown out of the dream.

He sits up in bed, wide awake.

He lets himself fall back down, still seeing his parents in front of him.

He knows he won’t be getting any more sleep tonight.

Dean is the first one up this morning, if you don’t count Crowley (which he doesn’t because someone who doesn’t need to sleep doesn’t get up, period, no matter what the King of Hell thinks).

Sammy has all but given up his early morning runs, preferring to do them in the afternoon or evening instead, and Dean had come to cherish quiet mornings... if he wakes up early, that is.

Still, it’s a nice change in pace from time to time.

Cas, he learned as soon as his angel developed a need for sleep, is not a morning person at all, so it’s Dean’s duty to make sure they have coffee brewing by the time his grumpy boyfriend finds his way into the kitchen. If he deems it too early though, Cas will only huff at the offered drink and tuck Dean back into bed with him.

Those are not bad mornings either, if Dean’s being honest.

Mick of course has his alarm set for 8 am each day, sharp; he suspects it will be a while before he gets out of the schedule the Men of Letters have imposed upon him since he was a child.

That’s okay by him. They have a lot of practice when it comes to rebelling, after all.

Today, though, it’s a quarter to eight when Mick enters the kitchen, fidgeting.

“You alright?” Dean asks.

“Yeah”.                                

Yeah. Would have been “yes, thank you for asking” a few weeks ago. God knows how much worth the Men of Letters put on this pretend politeness. At least he doesn’t sound like a walking Oxford Dictionary anymore.

 “You sure?”

Mick takes the cup of coffee he offers him and takes a deep breath.

“Do you by any chance know a djinn named Al?”

Oh. So that’s what this is about.                     

“Did he dream-walk into your head last night?”

“I wasn’t aware they could, but it’s logical, I suppose.”

Dean nods.

“He didn’t do anything wrong, did he? He’s usually a pretty cool guy...”

“No, no, he... “wanted to check in””.

Alright, he might be biased, but Mick’s quoty fingers aren’t half as adorable as Cas’. Just saying.

“Apparently he heard about me and wanted to make sure I was genuinely on your side.”

After a pause he adds, “You have a lot of... people looking out for you.”

Dean doesn’t begrudge him the slight hesitation. A few short months ago, every not-human was a monster to him.

“They started piling up at some point” he tells him. “What can I say, you warn them from certain death, people tend to get attached.”

Mick nods, looking down in his coffee.

“I’ve also felt... like I was being watched several times” he admits. “I recall the feeling from meeting Mel, and it’s usually around water... I think she’s spying on me”.

“Why would she? You seemed to get on pretty well.”

It was a memorable visit, Dean will say that.

“We did. But she’s not... she’s... something else. And she’s very fond of you.”

Dean grins.

“That’s why it’s good to have a boyfriend who speaks Gaelic.”

“No, not just you as a pair. You. Dean Winchester. Al warned me about it too. Don’t betray any of you individually.”

“Yikes. Sounds serious.”

“He’s really alright.”

“That he is. Hasn’t taken a single victim since he was old enough to feed himself.”

“He’s a bit... overenthusiastic, I would say” Mick says, playing around with his cup.

“Once he figured out I wasn’t a threat – “

He takes a deep breath.

“He thought it would be nice to show me my earliest memories.”

Dean frowns. Sammy told him about his and Mick’s talk.

Mick said he never met his parents.

And that means –

Oh, God, Al. Well-meaning, friendly, happy-go-lucky Al, thinking Mick would be so freaking happy.

It sounds just like him, really.

“I never knew what they looked like” Mick breathes.

“Man, that’s gotta be rough. Did Al – “

“He saw my reaction and brought me out of there. I snapped awake.”

“And weren’t able to go back to sleep” Dean finishes.

“You know the feeling, I assume.”

“Yeah”. Dean laughs somewhat bitterly.

“If I’d known what exactly I couldn’t go to sleep over...”

It’s weird now, remembering missing his mother so badly. In a way, he still does – he misses the woman he thought he mourned, misses her warmth, her easily given love.

He had no idea she wasn’t even ready to try and get to know them.

God knows this isn’t easy. But she could have at least tried.

“Do you think about her a lot?” Mick asks suddenly.

Dean raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry”. He laughs. It sounds slightly hysterical.

“I’m just – trying to to – “

Dean decides to cut him some slack. He left his whole world behind because he thought it was the right thing to do, and he just saw his parents for the very first time.

“Of course. Can’t help it. Just wish they were more pleasant thoughts.”

“She’s... Mary is...”

It’s kind of touching how he tries to spin the black-and-white seeing killer they escaped from into something Dean could be proud to call his mother.

Maybe he’s being unfair. That’s what haunts him the most, sometimes. But he’s alright. He has Cas to talk to, and Sam.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to. I made my decision and I haven’t regretted it once.”

Mick’s studying him.

“I was right about you.”

“What do you mean?”

Is he imagining it or is Mick actually blushing?

“Nothing. I – thank you, Dean.”

And he leaves the kitchen.

Oh well.

One thing’s clear.

Mel, Al, their other friends...

They have no reason to worry.

They went into the enemy’s lair and brought back another ally.  

So far, the British Men of Letters have accomplished nothing they set out to do. Monsters are still around, they’ve lost several of their members (and one of them joined the enemy, on top of that) and American hunters flee in the other direction if they catch a glimpse of them miles away.

Still, Dean has a bad feeling about this.

Maybe feeling is the wrong word for it, though.

Try as he might, sometimes he slips back into his old mindset.

Probably because he lived with it for most of his adult life.

It just... happens.

He’s there, he’s in the moment, and then –

He’s happy, living his life, and suddenly he’s sure that he and Cas won’t last and Sammy will run away again and Crowley will try to kill them and Mick will end up being a spy and the British Men of Letters will eradicate all their friends and come for them and Dean will be unable to protect his family and and and...

“Dean?”

Of course Cas woke up.

He was hoping to sit in the dark for a while longer. He can hear his own thoughts better in silence.

Give it to Crowley though, in the old times he never sat around and moped in front of a swimming pool.

Squirrel’s having a bad night again. That’s what Crowley’s come to dub them, anyway.

It’s a small wonder really, with the life he’s lead.

He’s going to beat himself up until sunrise, if his experience is anything to go by.

The solution to this problem is easy enough.

With a blink, he’s standing in the Misters Squirrels’ room.

Of course Dean tucked his boyfriend in carefully.

Well, he won’t wake up like that.

The blanket lands on the floor and Crowley returns to his room.

Cas sits down next to him.

“What’s wrong, love?”

He sighs. Here he is, trying to drown in self-pity, and of course there’s his boyfriend trying to make him feel better, to make him feel loved.

And damn him if he’s not successful.

Dean knows he’ll just keep going until he sees the light again.

They used to have a lot of talks like this in the beginning, when everything hurt and he’d just walked away from the only real home apart from his car he’d ever known.

He lets his head sink on Cas’ shoulder.

“I’ve just been thinking...”

Cas gently runs his fingers through his hair.

“No, you weren’t. You were putting yourself down and imagining worst case scenarios”.

He chuckles.

“That has been my way of doing it for most of my life.”

“It’s not anymore”.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“I am sure, Dean. Me and Sam aren’t the only people who’ve changed in the last two years. You’ve allowed the bright light of your soul to shine through the facade.”

“How am I ever going to beat myself up over stuff properly with you saying things like that” Dean mumbles, turning his head to press a kiss against Cas’ neck.

“You’re not supposed to anyway.”

“I know, I know. It’s just... this whole thing... she’s our mother, Cas.”

He’s still stroking Dean’s hair.

“She is.”

“And she... took one look at us and decided we weren’t worth sticking around. I know that’s not what she said, but it’s how it felt. And then she took Sammy, and they wanted to kill everything that moved the wrong way, and I just... couldn’t stay.”

“Sam came back though” Cas reminds him. “Of his own free will.” After a pause he adds, “And there’s Crowley.”

Dean snorts.

“Good luck getting rid of him. Do you have any idea what he does at night?”

“No” Cas answers. “And I don’t think I want to know”.

Dean chuckles again, relaxing against his angel.

“Yes, he did. And we got lucky with the other hunters and the good monsters...”

“We didn’t get lucky. Your reputation...”

“Our reputation.”

“Still. You know my people skills aren’t exactly... excellent”.

Dean smiles.

“Do you think we can trust Mick?” he asks suddenly.

“We have until now... Do you have a reason – “

“No, no. Quite the contrary. Guy’s been nothing but accommodating and eager to learn. Just – some nights – “

Cas’ arm travels down his back to wrap itself firmly around Dean.

“I understand.”

Of course he does. Cas has bad nights too, when he wakes up from nightmares about angels falling and people dying at his hands, and Dean always does his best to help.

He doesn’t mind. It’s part of the deal, he gets to be with Cas in the process, so why should he?

Dean sighs.

“I just wish my brain could stop now and then.”

“It’s been doing a good job recently, I’d say.”

Cas is right, of course. Every night used to be a bad night. Every day used to be a nightmare. He dragged himself through his sorry existence using alcohol to numb the pain, convinced that this would only end with a bullet stuck between his eyes.

But times changed. He changed. He made only yesterday’s dinner while he was singing and dancing around in the kitchen.

He is happy.

Most of the time.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he mumbles, leaning a bit heavier against Cas.

Not his fault the guy’s freaking comfortable.

“You were yourself”.

“Can we stay here just for a while longer?”

“Of course, Dean.”

And with the moonlight dancing across the water and Cas’ arms around him, Dean feels the bad night leave, being replaced by the comfort and love he’s come to know so well.

He doesn’t realize his eyes have closed until Cas gently shakes him.

“We should go back to bed.”

And he allows his boyfriend to gently guide him to their room, exhaustion having lulled him into a relaxing half-sleep.

Once they’re in bed, Cas draws him into his arms once more.

“Sleep well, love.”

He does.

The next morning, he gets up somewhat later than usual. Cas is already awake, most likely in the kitchen nursing his third cup of coffee.

Dean smiles into his pillow before he finally leaves the bed.

The bad night has passed.

To his surprise, not even Crowley reacts to his lying in. And Mick even admits to having hit the snooze button two times today.

Two times. Imagine that. They’ll make a hunter out of him yet.

“How are you?” Cas asks softly as he hands him a plate full of bacon, his favourite breakfast.

He kisses him.

“I’m good, sunshine.”

Cas’ smile is dazzling.

Again, though, no comment from Crowley. Weird. Normally the guy is sarcasm personified.

Sam corners him later, however.

“Dean? Cas seemed worried about you at breakfast...” He bites his lip.

“You don’t ahve to talk about it if you don’t want it, of course, but...”

“Nah, Sammy, nothing to worry about. Just had a bad night.”

“Oh” Sam says softly. Of course he’s no stranger to those, either.

“But you’re feeling better now?”

“Yeah. Cas took care of it. He’s good at that.” He winks.

Sam rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply.

Meanwhile, Crowley joins Cas in the library.

“Where did you put the works about Hebrew spells? Garth needs help.”

“Third shelf to your right, feathers.”

As Cas is getting the book, he asks, “Is Dean alright?”

“Yes.”

“Just asking. Moping and staring at the swimming pool at night doesn’t exactly scream well balanced and content.”

So he saw Dean yesterday. Cas isn’t surprised.

“It’s no coincidence I woke up, is it.”

“Do you really think Squirrel would leave you any different than carefully tucked in?”

He woke up with the blanket on the floor.

“So he’s really alright”.

“Yes.”

Then, to prove how much he doesn’t care, Crowley announces, “Good then. I have better things to do with my time anyway” and turns around.

Cas just smiles.

She doesn’t think much of Mary Winchester. Too much like her sons. Too undisciplined, too eager to attack without a plan.

But she’s got solid principles, and she knows what she wants.

The colonies free of monsters just like the home country.

Dr. Hess won’t deny that she’s disappointed in Mick Davies. After all the work she put in him, she hoped for a better outcome. He looked promising, once upon a time.

And then he somehow made contact with the Winchesters.

She doesn’t understand how they could unravel his careful training so quickly. He should have been able to withstand their apparently not too underestimate personal charm.

But others knew Sam Winchester for over a year and nothing happened. It must be the two brothers together.

They still haven’t figured out how much Davies told them. She’s made her displeasure clear to Elton and Willoughby.

Because apparently she has to do everything on her own, she’s currently going through his room, but there’s little evidence –

There’s barely any evidence there, period.

“Elton?” she calls out.

He appears in the doorway.

“Where are Mr. Davies personal effects?”

“I – we – they should be here, ma’am.”

“They are not.”

He hurries away to investigate, but she has her own ideas.

The demon who helped was the King of Hell, according to Mary Winchester.

As if it’s not enough that they are working with monsters.

It’s high time they are dealt with once and for all.

Mary Winchester might become a problem eventually, when she realizes that they are too dangerous to be allowed to live.

They will see what to do about her then.

First of all, the Winchesters need to be found.

Dr. Hess purses her lips.

The hunters found a traitor to help them.

They should be able to do the same.

Mothers are excellent pressure points.

Sadly, most of the children who find their way to Kendricks no longer have any. They might never have lost Mick Davies if he had a mother.

But, Dr. Hess learned from Mary Winchester, the King of Hell of all people still has one.

Their relationship seems to be... tempestuous at best, and she can’t really tell them a lot about it (and this is the great hunter whose praises Ketch sang? Dr. Hess is starting to think he adored Mary Winchester for other reasons he doesn’t want to know about), but the point is, the witch called Rowena is Crowley’s mother and she knows how to get under his skin.

And perhaps... more?

First of all, she starts ordering more Men of Letters to come to America. Despite their earlier plans, they will need reinforcements if they want to get this situation under control.

The Winchesters cannot be found. For now.

But the witch, that’s another matter.         

They have a long, proud history of catching witches.

The Middle Ages were a highly successful period in that regard.

Eventually, it transpires that she has been staying in Florida for the past few months, enjoying the attention of several millionaires in their private clubs.

“I have already dealt with her son” Mrs. Winchester argues. “I should be the one to talk to her.”

“No offense, but exactly the history your respective sons share might make the conversation difficult. This is a business arrangement, not a hunt.”

Much as she doesn’t like the thought of working with a witch, she could easily live with it if Rowena MacLeod accepts her offer. She has to be careful, of course. If she’s anything like her son, her loyalties can shift in an instant.

But then, her offer is rather good, if she says so herself.

She would have been surprised if the witch didn’t recognize her immediately for a threat as soon as she steps into the club, and she doesn’t disappoint.

She’s only sat down when she saunters over, wearing an Armani dress and much too impractical shoes.

“Hello. Rowena MacLeod. And what would you want?”

“What makes you think I want anything from you?”

She shakes her head.

“I’m centuries old, dearie. I regognize a hunter whne I see one.”

“I am not a hunter” she tells her pointedly. Hunters have always disgusted her. Muscled apes, running into dangerous situations juts because they could without proper intel.

“Oh. So you are one of them” she replies carelessly, without letting her know if that is better or worse in her view.

“Yes. I am the leader of the Men of Letters.”

“Not leader enough to change the name” Rowena mutters.

She doesn’t react to the subtle insult.

“I am here to offer you – “

“I cannot imagine I’d be interested in anything you have. As far as I can tell, you haven’t managed to hunt down two hunters – three now, I heard. What could you possibly have that I would want?”

“What about complete control over your son? And Hell, respectively?”

It’s an old parchment they have kept in their archives for a long time. While a spell to control demons is a tempting concept, only a powerful witch will be able to cast it.

Rowena MacLeod might be strongest they have yet encountered, and she has an actual reason to work with them.

And really... if she should indeed be able to control Hell... the devil they know is certainly better than any other, isn’t that true?

Plus, witches are a lot easier to kill than demons.

Her eyes narrow.

“I am listening."

Time passes.

Somehow, Mick finds it unbelievable that he only left the Men of Letters a little over a month ago. It seems like this has always been his life.

So when it comes to doing what would have been unthinkable such a short time ago, he doesn’t even hesitate.

It happens on a hunt, because, as Dean put it, “Turns out we still have those. Good old-fashioned hunts!”

The ghost they are dealing with turns out to be a vila, the spirit of a young woman who died disappointed in love, who now targets men by making them dance with her until they perish.

Unfortunately, she decides to target Dean, who, since he’s in love with someone else, is utterly immune to her charms.

They underestimated her powers however, because she manages to whisk him away from the rest of them and throw fog across the whole forest they’re hunting her in.

Mick finds Dean, alone, but only to watch as the vila, furious, plunges her hand into his chest.

“Dean!”

 He shoots her with rock salt and runs to his fallen – friend’s? – side.

He coughs up blood as Mick falls down to his knees, terrified.

“Was stupid... need to update... lore...”

“Dean, you shouldn’t – “

“Tell them – tell Cas – “

He coughs again.

“Best years... of my... life...”

“You’re not dy – “

“What? No, no – “

Only later will he realize Crowley sounds genuinely distressed.

Mick turns around.

“Do something!”

“I can’t!”

“You’re the King of Hell!”

“There are rules – “

He thinks quickly.

“Make a deal with me.”

“What?”

“My soul, take it.”

Crowley looks at him.

“Give me ten dollars.”

He has no idea where this is going but tears out his wallet. Crowley grabs the money and yanks him into a bruising kiss.

It’s over so quickly he doesn’t understand what’s happening until Dean sits up, completely fine, and the fog has dispelled.

“I added getting rid to the vila to our deal. You should have thought of that, really.”

“How much time do I have?”

“What do you mean?” Crowley waves the ten dollar bill at him.

“We’re even.”

“Did you seriously just save my life for ten bucks?” Dean asks, getting up, squeezing Mick’s shoulder.

“Thank you but next time, think a little bit harder about throwing your soul away, okay?”

“It’s not throwing it away if it means saving you.”

Realizing what he’s said, he steps away, blushing once more, but before Dean can reply, Cas and Sam burst into the scene and the former throws himself into Dean’s arms.

That evening, Mick watches Dean and Cas preparing dinner. The hunter is already laughing again, carefree, happy.

No one would guess Dean Winchester almost died just a few hours ago.

He’s mesmerizing.

“It’s not going to get you a one-way ticket to Hell, take it from me.”

“What do you mean?” Mick asks, looking away.

Crowley rolls his eyes.

“It’s alright to be attracted. I’m pretty sure the Winchesters are the cause of gay crisis in at least 25% of the witnesses they interview.”

“I’m not...” he trails off.

“I’m not homosexual.”

“Don’t have to be to appreciate a nice view, Captain Peachfuzz.”

Until now he’s been spared one of Crowley’s nicknames. Although maybe “spared” is the wrong word for it.

It’s more like he’s passed a milestone of some kind.

“Still, it’s not like... he’s very...”

“Obnoxious? Much Plaid wearing? Annoying?”

Mick ignores the suggestions.

“Come on, work with me here.”

“You’re the King of Hell” he points out.

“And yet you’re content enough to sit at a table with me. Your point?”

It’s true. Once they rescued him, he didn’t think twice about Crowley’s presence. He’s a great help on hunts, and he’s really not that bad for a demon.

Say what you want, he did kill Lucifer as well.

“Just a statement”.

“Here”.

Crowley offers him a glass of Craig. He accepts, but sips it slowly, remembering the evening Dean and Sam had to bring him to bed.

“What you did today... It was... nice.”

“I’m just a nice person”.

He almost spits his drink all over the table. Crowley chuckles.

“Now, you almost sound as if you don’t believe me. I’m offended.”

“Nothing offends you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

It’s easy to forget all the things Crowley must have done over the centuries when you’re just talking to him like this.

Still, he has been nothing but helpful, and without him, Dean wouldn’t be alive.

Cas has made abundantly clear that he’s aware of it, going so far as to almost hug the King of Hell.

To his credit, he didn’t even flinch away from the threatened sign of affection.

“Do you have any idea what the Men of Letters are planning?”

Yes, he did something right today, but Mick still knows what this question is supposed to be.

Another test.

“No” he answers honestly.

“Dr. Hess never lets anyone know what to do until the very moment it needs to be done.”

“Hm” Crowley hums. “Very inefficient way to run a business.”

“Efficient when it’s founded on terror and guilt.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“All I know is that everyone needs to be very careful”.

He’s only spent two months with them, but he already cannot imagine going back.

This... all of this... It’s insane. Overwhelming. Downright mad at times.

And he can’t imagine a better life.

“Oh, Peachfuzz, no one here’s ever careful. Doesn’t mean they don’t look after one another.”

They finish their drinks in silence.

Crowley expects the knock on his door that night, so when Dean shuffles in, he only raises an eyebrow.

“Squirrel. Trouble sleeping, again?”

“Thank you, Crowley. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be absurd. We both know I did.”

It’s something he’s never admitted, not even to himself.

Crowley, the King of Hell, couldn’t stand a world without Dean Winchester in it, and it’s going to become a problem eventually. Inevitably.

But for now, Dean is standing in front of him, unharmed and healthy.

Dean smiles at him, a private, somewhat sad smile.

He understands.

Moose’s visit a quarter of an hour later is a surprise. Cas thanked him right in front of everybody, of course, Sam’s just not quite there yet – for an honest apology, that is; he’s pretty sure they both remember the one he forced himself to after they killed of Lucifer’s hellhound.

“Dean would be dead without you”.

“I am pretty sure every single one of you would be dead without me several times over.”

“Yes, we would. But still. You saved my brother today. Thank you, Crowley.”

Wonders will never cease.

It happens later that night.

Crowley is no longer used to being summoned. The boys were the only ones left who did it in the first place, and the last one who had to was Moose in his desperate attempt to find Squirrel and his boyfriend.

He doesn’t even recognize the sensation for a second.

Barely anyone who would is aware of his position anyway, so how - 

Ah. He should have known. He’s in a devil’s trap, of course, but that’s hardly reason to worry.

Neither is Mummy Winchester glaring at him. Quite frankly, he’s been more scared of her sons at certain points than he ever was of her.

Killers are always scarier when they have a reasonable motive for what they are doing instead of being a ruthless fanatic.

He hasn’t seen the other woman who’s staring at him with the same kind of disgust on her face. It must be Dr. Hess, the woman who made Mick Davies do many things, and several of them downright disgusting, he’s ready to bet.

He knows what a haunted man’s eyes look like.  

He’s reasonable sure the two guys who are standing behind them are those he slammed into the wall when he saved the boys.

“Mr. Crowley” the woman greets him. “I have heard that you are the one to speak to if one’s interested in making a deal.”

“My dear Madam Umbridge, I cannot think of any reason why you of all people would want to make a deal with me. Aside from the fact that I won’t.”

“You haven’t listened to – “

“I don’t need to. No deal. Doesn’t matter how long you keep waving your eyelashes at me. Or Mummy Winchester, for that matter.”

“I know you have them” Mary Winchester hisses at him. “I know part of why they are so confused is – “

“Confused? It might be one way to describe them, but certainly not in the way you think. I assure you, everything they’ve done since they walked away from your shining example of motherly love they have done of their own free will.”

 She wants to argue, but Dr. Hess interrupts her before she can speak.

“This doesn’t help us, Mrs. Winchester. Mr. Crowley, think about it. We can guarantee you that, if you give us the Winchesters, no one will ever bother you again. We will take over and rid America of monsters and ghosts, but we could make a deal that ensures your business would stay unharmed. Of course this would include all future generations of Men of Letters.”

Apparently she’s done something that, as she’s gathered from her reports, is not an easy task.

She’s surprised the King of Hell.

He’s studying her, baffled, before, to her surprise, he throws his head back and laughs.

“You should check your records again, my dear. As much as it pains me to admit it, I would never betray the Winchesters. Never again.”

Dr. Hess thankfully learned to hide her emotions a long time ago. Sadly, both Elton and Willoughby make surprised noises behind her, and Mary Winchester looks incredulous.

She certainly never expected this – loyalty from a demon.

“Are you sure? It is a good offer.”

“It is” Crowley agrees, surprising her yet again. “The monopoly of all the Men of Letters’ supernatural needs. But guess what. I don’t let myself be controlled by anyone.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Fergus.”

Dr. Hess didn’t hear Rowena enter the room.

Neither did anyone else, apparently.

“Mother? What are you doing here?”

She ignored his question.

“It has been a while.”

“Since you sent my son to his death. I remember.”

“Oh, Fergus, let bygones be bygones.”

“Why should I? I’m in a trap and you are doing business with the enemy.”

He’s still relaxed, sure of himself.

He won’t be for long.

“What can I say? I know a good offer when I see one, just like you.”

“That the day should come when a demon has more backbone than a witch...” he muses, eying the book she’s carrying, not even paying anyone else attention anymore.

It angers her, a little. But they’ll learn. Soon all these wild hunters and awful creatures will learn just what they are capable of.

“Mr. Crowley, have you ever heard of the Spell of St. John?”

His demeanour changes – subtly. She doubts anyone but herself and his mother can tell.

“That’s – that’s just a myth. No one has ever done it.”

“Because no one had the power, dearie” Rowena says. “Me, on the other hand...”

If it works, they’ll have an ally right in the middle of the enemy camp. Or at least a servant. He won’t want to follow their orders, of course; but he won’t be able to help it. According to the spell, no demon can resist.

“You can’t – “

“Oh, but we can, Mr. Crowley. You will report to us regularly, and you will let no one know you’re under a spell, or that we summoned you, or anything else that would endanger our mission.”

“To commit genocide” he snarls, and to her shock she realizes he thinks he’s actually better than them.

A demon. Believing he’s genuinely a better person than they could ever be.

Cold fury grips her.

“Perform the spell.”

As Rowena prepares the ingredients, she can tell Crowley is trying everything to get out of the trap.

He won’t. They’ve made it extra strong just to be sure.

“Leave the room” she orders the others.

They are not exactly sure how far the power the spell gives them will stretch. Ideally, only those who are in the room when it is performed should control the demon.

“You too, Mrs. Winchester” she says after Elton and Willoughby have shuffled out.

“But – “

“Now” she orders her, and finally the irritating huntress leaves, but not without a last dirty look at their victim.

Rowena begins to recite the spell as soon as the door closes behind her.

Just before she finishes it, something unexpected happens.

“Mother, please – “

 He’s genuine in his plea, just like he was when he told them he wouldn’t make a deal with them.

Rowena’s hand stills momentarily, but then she moves forward with the spell.

It’s only a fraction of a second, it might as well just be part of the work.

She finishes it.

Bright light fills the room.

Two hours later, he appears in the kitchen of the mansion.

“Ah, Crowley. I was wondering where you had flattered of to”.

Dean chuckles about his own joke.

“Hell business.”

It’s not what he wants to say, but he can’t help it. He has no control over his body, sometimes even his thoughts get out of order.

He assumes this must be what it feels like to be possessed. He’s suddenly glad he always preferred dead meat to have to subdue a struggling soul.

“We think the Men of letters might be trying to consolidate their forces – “

No, Dean, don’t tell me. I’ll have to report back to them.

Squirrel, don’t.

But he does, and half an hour later he’s back at their base, betraying the Winchesters, betraying –

Betraying his family.

They are going to bleed for this.

I swear it, Dean.

I’ll find a way out.

And they’ll bleed.

While yes, technically illegal, it is not difficult to trace how many British people enter the country and why.

Lizzie has been on the lookout ever since she realized the Men of Letters all live within a few square miles of one another.

It makes sense. From what she can tell, they act decidedly cult-ish, and it’s easier to control someone who lives nearby.

So keeping track of those who live in that small part of London it is.

She feeds the information to the Winchesters on a daily basis. It’s the least she can do.

 “They are aware that more of you are coming” Crowley drawls. He sound bored, but she can see the defiance in his eyes.

Dr. Hess smiles.

“Thank you. I assume their friends are all rather worried?”

And so it goes on.

Mary is in the background, still angry she doesn’t get to order the demon around. It would have been the perfect way to start her boys back on the right path.

But for now, she is patient.

Eventually, it will be her turn.

She has been gone for thirty-three years, she can wait.

He knows betrayal. As a demon, how could he not? He has betrayed others and been betrayed so often in return he’s lost count.

But it has never felt like this, every word he’s forced to other like a stab in his gut.

He tried to stay away from the boys, but of course Hess noticed and ordered him to stay as much as possible in their mansion.

And all of them so trusting, even Sam and Mick, who he might have hoped would be more suspicious of him, are more than happy to talk over their plans with him.

Cas can’t help him either. He might have seen the spell on his soul if he was still an angel, but now...

And Dean, worst of all – Dean, who was the first to take steps to integrate him in the family, Dean, who’s always glad to spend time with him –

The first friends he has made in his long life and she’s making him hand them to her on a silver plate.

But he’s fighting. He’s constantly fighting. There has to be a way out.

Hess gave him rules.

What’s the natural answer to rules?

Loopholes. He’s good with those, even though he’s always made a point of keeping the deals he made.

For example, she orders him to tell her something but not how. He has every right to make it sound like the Winchesters’ network is much smaller and less loyal than it really is.

Her way of asking questions helps. She’s too full of herself, her condescending tone making it easy for him to consider something a remark instead of a question.

And she can’t control every single one of his actions. True, he can’t tell anyone that he’s under a spell; but that doesn’t mean he can’t drop... certain hints.

One evening, as he’s walking through the mansion again because he was told “to keep his eyes and ears wide open” only she didn’t specify where so he’s listening to empty corridors, he hears Dean enter the living room and of course his feet carry him there.

“Hey, want a drink?” Dean asks casually.

Even in the state he’s in, he’s glad Dean has reigned in his drinking considerably. He hasn’t seen him drunk in over a year.

“Sure” he answers, but before Dean can, he pours himself a glass of the cheapest whiskey they have. It’ll taste terrible, but at least he should –

“You alright?”

There it is.

He can’t tell there’s something wrong with him. But he sure as hell can be unsubtle about it.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? I’m fine! Everyone who’s ever used that phrase in connection with you has been undoubtedly one hundred percent fine!”

He’s all too aware he’s a sarcastic bastard most of the time, but still...

Crowley really hopes that’s doubt he sees in Dean’s eyes.

He doesn’t stop there, of course. He calls Cas “Castiel” to his face, berates Sam for not keeping the Impala in precise order, calls Mick “Boris” instead of Peachfuzz.

And watches the distrust build.

At least they’re telling him less and less these days.

Until it suddenly starts again.

And it’s worse than before, so much worse.

Because Dean insists on what he calls “Group chats” where they do nothing but sit and talk strategy, and like the dog he’s been turned in, he always returns to his masters to report what exactly they are doing.

The boys ask him to do certain things, and he can’t help but obey, not since Hess told him to listen if they want something done.

He visits Mel and tries praying that she realizes, but the water wraith has always been hard to read.

Lizzie Hexam, bless her heart, gives him everything she has whenever he shows up, and he wants to scream that she doesn’t even catch half the people the Men of Letters are busy getting into the country.

Al is flagging when it comes to railing support for them.

All Crowley sees is that things are beginning to grumble and that Hess is delighted at the news.

She’s getting better with practice. It’s easy to send part of her essence into nothing more than a drop at a window now...

They asked her to watch.

So she does.

The one good thing is that his mother keeps her distance most of the time. Part of him wants to believe it pains her to see him like this, but he won’t hold his breath. Maybe she and Mummy Winchester are just gleefully trading stories of screwing their sons over.

He’s really getting tired of this. How is he supposed to keep his stories straight?

He tries so often to just scream the truth into Dean’s face, but he never can.

There’s also a pull, courtesy of the spell, to just relax, let go and enjoy the ride.

As if that is going to happen.

He’s eating raw meat again, but relaxes when she sits down next to him.

“How did it go?”

“I hate lying” she says simply. And to such a nice gentleman, too.

This time, he recognizes the feeling.

He’s hiding in his room, trying to break through the spell for what must be the thousandth time.

Crowley can’t even tell how long he’s been at Hess’ beck and call. Sometimes it feels like he’s losing time, although he can’t be sure.

And then he’s being summoned.

Really, she can and usually does just call him. He has no choice but to come anyway.

What –

That is not the base of the Men of Letters.  

He’ll never admit it, but he could cry from relief.

He’s in the dining room, and Dean’s glaring at him, but he knows that look.

He’s worried.

The others are standing around him, armed just in case.

“Alright, I’m getting really tired of this charade we’ve been pulling off. The real Crowley – or one acting like himself, at least – would have noticed weeks ago. You are not getting out of this until you convince me you’re truly yourself, so get comfy.”

Thank God.

 Two months prior

Dean should have known.

Things were actually going well, and he was feeling good about… basically everything. Except for the Brits. But that couldn’t be helped.

And now this.

There’s something wrong with Crowley.

He didn’t tell them – of course.

He hasn’t asked for help – of course.

And he’s doing his best to give the impression that absolutely everything is alright – of course.

But Dean knows this demon inside out, and there’s something very very not right.

“Cas” he says that evening when they are alone, “It’s about Crowley... Has he seems off to you lately?”

His boyfriend frowns.

“In what regard?”

Dean huffs.

“I know you like to hear the opinion of others before you speak, but I know that look. You think the same.”

Cas sighs and sits down next to him on their bed.

“I was hoping I was mistaken.”

“It’s not even – it’s just an impression. There’s absolutely no reason to – “

“I know” Cas interrupts him. “If I was – if I could – “

He looks away.

“Hey, sunshine” Dean says, grabbing his hand. “You know I like it better when you can’t flatter of to God knows where. We’ll deal with this how we always do. Together.”

Cas smiles and pulls him in for a kiss.

Whatever’s going on, it can wait until tomorrow.

Over the next few days, the feeling gets stronger.

Crowley is... subdued, for lack of a better word. Doesn’t make as many quips.

Still – it’s no proof.

Sam and Mick don’t think anything’s wrong, but then Sam doesn’t know him as well as Dean and Cas, and Mick is new.

In the meanwhile, they are busy consolidating their forces, so to speak. Lizzie Hexam has proven to be invaluable.

Really, you throw a guy piece of raw meat and suddenly his wife is ready to risk her job for you.

There are more and more Men of Letters entering the States. Not exactly good news. There are still far fewer of them than there are hunters, naturally; but if they keep up the flow...

He’s mulling over the numbers when Crowley enters the room.

Yes. There’s definitely something weird going on. He’s never walked so... hesitantly before. And that expression in his eyes...

“Hey, want a drink?” he asks as casually as he can. It’s a long shot, but if something’s the matter and Crowley for whatever reason can’t tell him...

The demon grabs the cheapest whiskey they have, even though there’s a full bottle of Craig right there.  

“You alright?”

The words leave his mouth before he can process what he’s about to say.

Damn it.

Crowley’s reply surprises him.

 “Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? I’m fine! Everyone who’s ever used that phrase in connection with you has been undoubtedly one hundred percent fine!”

That just... sounds wrong. Not Crowley at all.

And Crowley would know he’d get that.

He plays it straight, but that evening, he grabs Cas, Sam and Mick and drags them to the playing room when Crowley’s not around.

He takes a cue and begins a game.

“I was right about Crowley” he begins quietly. In case the demon hears something, he’ll think they’re just playing.

Maybe he’ll stay away on purprose. Whatever’s the matter with him, he’s aware of it and he doesn’t like it one bit, that is obvious.

“He drank cheap whiskey today”.

“That’s all?” Sam asks while Cas and Mick have realized what Dean wants and are having a rather loud conversation about the vampire cure.

“Cheap whiskey. He’d take another Apocalypse over that stuff, especially since his favourite drink was available. He was trying to tell me something”.

“Alright” Sam acquiesces. “Any idea what’s going on?”

“None” he admits, “but I – “ He stops for a moment because he doesn’t really want to say it.

“I think we shouldn’t let Crowley in on what’s really going on” he finishes.

Cas, still talking about some inane topic with Mick, moves over to him and lays his hand on the small of his back. Dean relaxes.

“Because if there’s something... I’m pretty sure the Men of Letters have something to do with it.”

Crowley has far less enemies these days than he ever did. Maybe because he’s joined them when they go to hunter gatherings; or because he helps them all the time now; maybe because he got them a safe house –

Yeah, actually, for a lot of reasons. Most hunters and monsters even like the bastard a little.

Plus, he killed Lucifer what feels like forever ago.

So the Men of Letters are the only ones who would have a reason to target him.

Especially if it’s done to get to them.

“We should call Mel” Mick says suddenly. “She could keep an eye on Crowley when he’s not with us.”

True; as long as there’s a drop of water around, Mel can check up on their friend.

That he immediately thought of the water wraith confirms Dean’s suspicions that they have been talking quite a bit, though. And there’s a certain gleam in Mick’s eyes...

Dean’s certainly got no right to tell anyone who’s developing feelings for a supernatural being what to do. The unbelievably hot man who sleeps in his bed every night is proof of that.

But Mel’s not an angel who can choose to become human. She’s a nature spirit, lovely yes, but also volatile and dangerous, just like water can be.

He stores this in his “worry about later” box for now. There are more important things at stake.

“I’ll call her.”

He’s never asked through what weird water-magic she even realizes her phone’s ringing, but Mel always picks up.

“Dean!”

“Mel. There is news. It’s bad.”

She waits for him to elaborate.

“It’s Crowley. Something’s... we think he might be under a curse or a spell, but he’s not talking.”

“So you need a spy?”

“We could really use your help.”

“Anything for you. I’ll let you know.”

Things have gotten much easier since they’ve started talking to creatures instead of ganking them outb of principle.

They try to be quick with calling their other friends, only to learn just how many they have.

He was pretty sure there was a time Sam told him all his friends were dead.

The twins immediately offer to look into the lore for any spells that catch their eyes.

Al promises not to let Crowley know more and more monsters are getting ready to help them. Personally, Dean doesn’t hold much hope he can put up the charade for long, but they should be okay for a little while.

Lizzie is the most reluctant, funny enough. They’ve visited her a view times with Crowley in tow and she’s taken quite a liking to him; plus she “hates lying”. How she justifies lying to her employers on a regular basis for their sake Dean will never know, but still – she swears not to reveal that she’s doing her best to catch every single man of Letters who travels here.

Finally they are safe on all fronts and can retire for the night.

Dean lets himself sink down on the bed with a sigh.

“I’m worried” he confesses. “Crowley hates being controlled. He must be feeling awful, especially if they force him to betray us.”

“He knows we won’t put it on him” Cas says, sitting down next to him and taking his hand.

Dean snorts.

“Because not a single member of our little group has ever hated himself so much he’ll believe he’s not worth even asking for forgiveness.”

When Cas is silent, he adds, “No “It’s Crowley, the King of Hell”, bla bla bla?”

“I don’t think he has been spending a lot of time in Hell” Cas says lightly. “And... how would you express it? At this point he’s family.”

“Yeah. He is”.

Dean snuggles closer to his boyfriend.

After that night, the signs keep piling up. Even Sam’s spooked when Crowley nags him about their car, or when he calls Cas “Castiel” all the time.

Mel reports back to them a week later.

Apparently Crowley hangs out in empty rooms in their mansion a lot.

Mel can’t be sure where he disappears to practically every day, but the fact that he hasn’t mentioned it is suspicious in itself.

Also she thinks there’s “a dark mark” on his demon soul but can’t really explain it.

Must be a water wraith thing.

Their network is growing, at least. Instead of running into a trap, they are building one themselves.

They’ll get rid of the Men of Letters, send a clear signal that this is how things work in their country and they’re not letting anyone dictate them how to deal with their own problems.

They don’t tell the demon, of course. They set up regular meetings to lie to him and by the end of the second one Dean is ready to claw his eyes out.

But for weeks, their research concerning Crowley hits wall after wall.

It’s the twins who finally make the break through, thank God.

And as soon as Dean hears what they have to say, his blood boils.

Binding a demon? Making him do whatever you want?

There was a time when he would have loved to get his hands on this spell, especially concerning Crowley. He dismisses it from his memory.

“So how powerful would a witch have to be to make a demon... obey her?”

“Very. I doubt we know anyone – “

“Trust me, we do.”

Rowena. She did that to her own son.

Dean’s going to tear that bitch apart with his own hands.

But, first...

They’ll have to secure Crowley.

They can’t allow him to run around if he’s being controlled by the Men of Letters.

First a spell, now a devil’s trap.

He’s going to love this.

But what must be done...

Now

Summoning Crowley brings back memories.

It’s almost weird to remember they had to do this to speak with him at one point.

He knows they did the right thing when Crowley registers he’s in a devil’s trap.

He’s looking relieved.

“Alright” Dean begins, on the off-chance that instead of a spell they sent them an imposter, “I’m getting really tired of this charade we’ve been pulling off. The real Crowley – or one acting like himself, at least – would have noticed weeks ago. You are not getting out of this until you convince me you’re truly yourself, so get comfy.”

The fact that Crowley – Crowley actually sits down to demonstrate he has every intention to do that is proof enough he knows what’s wrong.

He clears his throat. They’ve decided to let him ask the questions, because he knows Crowley the best. Cas comes at close second because he worked with him for over a year once, but they certainly didn’t chat and spend time together then.

“If this is what we think it is, they must have told you not to let us know something’s wrong” he muses.

“But... okay... Did they order you to actively deny it if I just... tell you what I think happened to you?”

“No” Crowley says, getting up and shaking his head.

There’s still pure relief in his eyes.

“Good. Well, then, you have been under the Spell of St. John for some time, and the Men of Letters have been ordering you to spy on us.”

“Yes.”

“Rowena helped them”.

“Yes.”

The fury in his voice is too genuine to have been created by a spell.

“Okay” he rubs his hands nervously. “We can’t let you run around...”

“No you can’t, Squirrel, so just leave me here. I’ll be fine.”

The relief that he’s actually talking to Crowley for the first time in weeks is almost overwhelming.

He turns around and nods. Sam, Cas and Mick leave the room.

“We’re going to turn your room into a huge trap. It’s not the best solution, but at least you’ll be comfortable there”.

“I’d do the same” Crowley assures him. “Actually, no. I’d just throw me in the dungeon.”

“Yeah well, not exactly our style when it comes to family if we can avoid it.”

Crowley’s eyes widen in surprise as the door opens and Dean’s boyfriend comes in.

“It’s safe” Cas.

“Alright”.

Dean holds up the demon handcuffs.

“I’m sorry, but we need to take precautions while...”

“I understand” Crowley answers and actually holds up his hands so Dean can cuff him.

This must be the weirdest situation they’ve ever been in, and that’s saying a lot.

Crowley, just like Dean, absolutely hates being imprisoned.

“We’ll work this out. I promise” he tells him. He means it.

Crowley looks at him and nods.

Now that he doesn’t have to worry about the Men of Letters wiping out the Win – wiping out his friends, Crowley can actually relax in his room.

It actually feels kind of nice to just let go. He knows it’s the spell, but he’s safe now. Dean has seen to that.

And Dr. Hess was dumb enough not to take any precaution in case he got found out and captured. Didn’t think they, or more specifically Dean, had it in him.

How wrong she was.

Some of the time, he spends remembering the good old days when he still got to go out and have fun.

Like the time he finally got rid of the devil.

He has been expecting Dean to already know.

He’s way smarter than he gives himself credit for.

“So, the Lance...”

“It’s in the bunker. Do you want to get it, or...”

“I’ll just ride with you two for a while.”

He’s never been fond of Hell, and at least Squirrel and no-longer-has-Feathers are fun to annoy.

Fixing the Lance is even easier than he thought, since they are both eager to help.

“Alright” Dean mumbles after he’s fixed the runes.

“Now you should be able to – “

Crowley joins the halves.

“Huh. That worked.”

“Do you want to come with me?” he asks casually.

After all, there would be some divine justice in the vessel of Michael using his Lance.

But at the same time...

Dean hesitates. His and Cas’ eyes meet.

He takes his boyfriend’s hand.

“No, thank you. Just let us know everything worked out fine, alright?”

Just like he thought. Dean has walked away from his family once and for all.

He’s not interested in the fate he once thought inescapable anymore.

Lucifer is waiting for him.

“Crowley, what – “

His eyes widen when he sees the Lance.

He could make a speech. He could taunt Lucifer.

But, like Dean, he’s just tired of this.

Tired of Fate. Tired of the Apocalypse. Tired of Hell.

He plunges the Lance into Lucifer’s chest and leaves him to die before returning to Dean.

Ripping up the page or not, he deserves it.

He doesn’t spend all his time reminiscing, however.

Sometimes he plans for the future.

He’s lying on his bed, eyes closed, imagining what he’ll do to every single member of the Men of Letters when he’s free, hearing their screams, almost feeling their blood run over his hands, when Dean knocks at the door.

“Crowley? You decent?”

“Yes. Don’t be too disappointed”.

Dean opens the door.

A gasp leads Crowley to open his eyes.

He actually looks pale.

“Jesus, Crowley, you know you don’t need to breathe. I almost had a heart attack.”

Oh. Right.

That’s what you get for mediating.

“Anyway, here”.

Dean holds up a bottle of Craig.

“Thought you might as well enjoy yourself.”

“So you’re going to bring in Hess and my mother on a rag?”

He chuckles.

“Might be a bit impractical. How are you doing?”

“Much better than before” Crowley replies, honestly. He might be locked up, but he was doing way more harm when he wasn’t.

“Still... You hated it the last time.”

“The last time I was in a dungeon in the bunker. This is luxury compared to that.”

Dean nods.

“Call if you need anything, alright?”

It soon turns out he doesn’t have to. Every occupant of the mansion checks on him at least once a day.

Cas, who seems to have come to the conclusion that life without caffeine isn’t worth living, brings him a cup of coffee each morning.

“We’re working on the spell” he tells him every day without fail, “We’re going to break it.”

Oh, Cassie. If anyone knows what it feels like to be controlled, it’s him.

“I know. Just tell Squirrel to take a break, will you? He looked pretty run down yesterday.”

“He’s sleeping in today” he tells him firmly. Crowley grins. He can imagine that discussion.

“How does it feel?” Cas asks.

He shrugs.

“Not that bad, really. Things are usually easier when free will is not involved.”

“Yes, but not better.”

“Never that, feathers. Never that.”

Sam is... a bit of a surprise, really. He’s warmed up to him considerably, but Crowley still didn’t expect him to seek his company when he’s confined to his room.

“Does that look like a lamia attack to you?”

Typical of Moose. Always needing a reason to come talk to someone. Not like Dean, who simply spends time with people because he wants to.

“No idea. Did you show it to Dean?”

“Of course. He doesn’t know either.”

It didn’t use to be “of course” but Crowley doesn’t mention it.

Even Mick visits him regularly.

The former man of Letters is usually polite and concise, “Sorry but I don’t want you to learn anything that can harm us”, as he explained.

Crowley can see why he was the only piece on the board smart enough to leave their little killer club.

The point is that even locked into a giant trap he is as much part of life in the mansion as he was before. Except that he doesn’t learn what’s going on with their network and the Men of Letters, just in case.

He worried very little about Hell. Even before this, he went there less and less often. Ever since he killed Lucifer, there has just been little reason to go, aside from reminding everyone who’s in charge. And he’s never liked being the leader of a bunch of pitiful black-eyed cry babies anyway.

If anything, this experience has taught him very well where he stands.

One day, he gets a surprise visit.

It starts with strange noises coming down the hallway; he tenses until he recognizes Dean’s voice amidst the cursing and the banging.

“Can’t believe... I survived... three freaking apocalypses... to carry this thing for miles...”

“It’s not that far, Dean.”

Even Cas sounds exhausted.

“Guys... guys – careful!”

Another bang. Sam hisses.

“You okay Sammy? Mick, can’t you make sure...”

“I can barely see the corridor!”

“Stop grinning” Dean complains.

It makes sense when the door opens and Mel is carried into the room in a bathtub, as happy as can be.

“I am never doing that again” Dean announces.

“We have to take her back later” Cas reminds him.

“Hi Crowley” she says, still grinning.

“Mistress of the waves”.

“There it is. Knew something was up when you didn’t call me that.”

She squints.

“Yeah. There’s something on his soul... must be the spell. A dark spot... Sorry I can’t tell exactly. I can only barely make out demons’ souls, and humans are completely unreadable.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but my soul, or what is left of it, is dark as a matter of course.”

“You’d be surprised” she replies cryptically.

“But still... here’s the thing: The spell, while powerful, doesn’t seem to have a very firm hold on him.”

“I’ll be the first to tell you it does” he presses out. “I’ve been trying...”

“I didn’t mean that” she sounds apologetic. “I think it’s easier to get rid of it once you know how, that is all.”

That’s some good news, he supposes.

Mel stays for a bit longer, eager for a chat.

Crowley doesn’t seem to be the only one who enjoys her company. Mick certainly appreciates her visit.

It’s remarkably easy to tell. After all, he looks at her and Dean the same way.

It was a nice thing of her to literally drop in and come see him. He’s starting to develop cabin fever.

God, he needs this spell to be gone.

Not knowing where they stand exactly with the Men of Letters is infuriating. From the little information Dean gave him, it looks like they could win this war any day, but he wants to be sure.

Soon. The boys will find a way out of this.

Dean promised.

Once again, her son doesn’t show up.

Rowena is aware that Dr. Hess is growing more impatient with each passing day.

Her own fault. She should have given Fergus more specific instructions. That he has to do anything to bring them a report, for instance. Or make him incapable of acting differently than he usually would.

She could have done so herself, but...

He’s still her son. She might hate him most of the time and enjoyed breaking what was left of his heart, but blood’s thicker than water, and she enjoys the chaos of giving him a fighting chance.

Someone who clearly doesn’t is Mary Winchester. She’s still livid about the decision to exclude her from the spell, and she’s rather eager to finally destroy every monster in existence, so the free pass Rowena is supposed to get annoys her beyond all means.

One day, she corners her in the hallway.

“Where is he?” she hisses.

“Fergus? If I knew, you would, dear.”

“How can we be sure of that? You might be working with him...”

“That would be a rather bad decision, honestly. Because as soon as he’s free, he’ll come for me. Aided by your sons, no doubt.”

“They are... misguided. By your son, among others. I’m just trying to save them.”

She’s still convinced of that, apparently, not realizing that much of her motivation stems from the distain for the hunting life she thought she left behind.

“Of course you are. By destroying everything they hold dear.”

“They’re used to this life. That is all. Once they can go and be normal, they’ll...” Mary breaks off.

“I’m not discussing my family with a witch” she spits out.

“If you think that’s the worst thing I’ve ever had thrown at me... Fergus was always very creative. And I’d rather be a witch than something else”.

She moves past Mary.

Right as she’s about to turn the corner, she calls over her shoulder, “And at least I openly despise my offspring.”

She hears her march off and smiles. Undoubtedly Mary will do what she usually does to blow off steam and go kill something.

Rowena suddenly finds she vastly preferred her sons’ company to hers.

Dean was downright adorable when he had amnesia.

No wonder Fergus has a weakness for them, really.

A weakness...

She turned him week when she performed that spell. He must hate it. He always hated being told what to do, even when he was just a wee bairn in Scotland.

There was a reason she tried to sell him for three pigs once. He never forgave her for that.

Not that he’ll ever forget what she did to him now. Her son can hold a grudge.

She was right about Mary. She ends up disappearing for a few days and comes back splattered with blood and gore, a manic gleam in her eyes.

Rowena shudders. If the boys were like this, she wouldn’t be alive anymore.

Even so however, she and Mary Winchester aren’t that different.

That thought stops her in her tracks.

It’s true. They are both betraying their children.

At least Rowena knows exactly why and is honest about it.

But, watching Mary argue with Dr. Hess once again, she’s not so sure that’s a good thing, either.

Mary Winchester is starting to annoy her. She doesn’t see the big picture – she’s just as mistaken as her sons are, only in a different way.

If she could, she’d go on a killing spree right now, and Dr. Hess has never been comfortable with unreliable colleagues.

She made an exception for Mr. Ketch because he was useful and knew when to obey orders, but that was it.

Mary Winchester might soon turn out to be as much as liability as her sons ever were.

If so, she’s looking forward to dealing with the consequences. Mick Davies has taught her something.

No more weak links.  

Just another day in the life.

His boyfriend is talking to their werewolf buddy on the phone, his other best friend is still locked in his room, his brother is cleaning the weapons they used last night (nasty wendigo, thank God Tara noticed the signs and alerted them) and their newest addition is studying an old Hebrew document.

Yep, just another day in the life.

 Even if Garth’s news that nearly every werewolf he knows is ready to support them is a little overwhelming.

Mick storms in just after Cas hangs up, looking frustrated.

“Nothing. And I know the spell must have ties to the Bible, but I never got high enough in the organization to learn about it – “

“Hey, don’t worry about it, man. We’ll find a way.”

“We always do” Cas confirms.

Mick sighs.

“not being able to help... It’s just frustrating.”

“Welcome to the club. You’ll get used to it”.

“At least he’s in a pretty good mood”.

“I think “not being told what to do” right now trumps everything, concerning Crowley.”

“You... know him very well” Mick begins, glancing at Cas.

“There were rumours...”

“If you mean the one where I turned into a demon and we spent a few weeks bffing it up, that’s true.”

He doesn’t even bait an eyelid.

He’s really growing used to all of this.

“Thank you. I was wondering.”

“You’re taking it pretty well.”

“I know you. I know you are a good man. The indiscretions of your past don’t matter in context.”

Dean sniggers a little at Mick describing his turning into a demon as “indiscretions”, causing him to blush and take his leave.

Cas’ arms circle around him.

“Don’t do that” he murmurs.

“Just having fun”.

Cas’ arms tighten.

“He’s younger than me”.

Oh.

“Cas, are you – are you actually jealous? Of Mick?”

“No, of course not.”

He sounds a bit grumpy and Dean turns around to kiss him.

“How about we agree we are all adults here and trust one another?”

Cas looks slightly ashamed of himself. Dean kisses him again.

“Come on. We got a King of Hell to save and the British Nazis to take down.”  

Aaron doesn’t get angry.

At least not the way Dean tends to. There are no quick, sudden bursts of anger, not even the aloof silence Cas usually goes for when he’s mad.

So it is something of a surprise when their friend, still hunting down Nazis in Germany, starts screaming at him over the phone.

Really, all he did was clarifying where they stand with the Men of Letters because he mentioned them and Aaron asked.

And now this.

“I have a go-lem! That is practically an ar-my! Someone wants to wipe you off the face of the earth and you don’t call me!?”

“You have better things to do – “

“They want to kill you! You saved my life once! What do I care about freaking Nazis – “

“Aaron – “

“Hold on, I am checking for flights – “

“You don’t have to – “

“See you in a few days.”

“You don’t even know where – “

Aaron hangs up. Dean stands there, stupefied.

“Looks like we’re getting another guest” he tells Cas.

“You look spooked” he observes gently.

Dean shrugs.

“Never imagined I’d have Aaron scream at me because of the British pricks, that’s all”.

“I... had a similar talk with Claire the other day.”

“Oh?”

Claire’s been hunting and keeping in touch, but they decided for good reason not to let her know everything that’s gone down. She’s too young to worry about freaking genocide. Jody knows, naturally. They wouldn’t risk her wrath when she found out on her own.

“I was tired. I might have mentioned Crowley and the spell he’s under... And then I had to explain.”

Dean smiles. Cas has never been able to say no to Claire since they met again.

He’d make a good father.

Dean shoves that thought far away. That’s not...

Claire. Yeah, that’s better.

“And what did she say?”

“She was upset. She let me know she’s not a child anymore, Castiel.” He pauses.

“She usually calls me Castiel when she’s angry with me.”

“She’s still a teenager, Cas. She’ll get over it. And hey, now that she knows, we can invite her to visit. I think she’d like her own room.”

Dean knows best how important it is to have a home base. Yes, there’s Jody’s, but she could always use another place to crash. Just in case.

“I love you” Cas tells him.

He grins, his fight with Aaron long forgotten.

At least until he breezes into the States three days later, calls him and demands to know “Where the hell they are.”

“Nice digs” is all he says when Dean opens the door for him.

“You can say that again. Everyone’s in the living room, except for Crowley. We had to put him in solitary confinement a while back.”

“Did he try to betray you?”

“What?”

Sometimes it’s way too easy to forget that the demon who is currently solving the New York times crossword puzzle is still the King of Hell.

“No, he’s a friend. He was placed under a spell.”

“I really missed a lot.”

“You have no idea”.

He suddenly realizes he never even told Aaron he’s dating Cas now. Sure, his angel came up in conversation now and then, but did he ever make their relationship clear?

What’s Judaism’s take on gay couples again?

Bisexual couples.

Whatever.

“Yeah, so... right now, you’re our only – “ he glances at the golem who’s entered the mansion after Aaron “guests. So this means it’s you, me, Sammy, my boyfriend, Mick – I’ll explain later – and the King of Hell in his room.”

Aaron doesn’t even blink.

Well then.

After they’ve all been introduced – and Dean has already decided he’s going to ignore every suspicious glance Aaron throws Mick, he’ll learn he’s not one of the bastards anymore – they tell him and the golem what they need to know.

“Also, we’ve prepared a room for you. For him too, of course – “

“Thank you, Matan is comfortable everywhere.”

Huh. So he did end up giving him a name. Makes sense. You spend so much time with someone, you want to know what to call them.

“It means gift in Hebrew” Cas will tell him later.

Aaron and Matan go to see Crowley.

“He’s not exactly what I pictured when I imagined the King of Hell” Aaron comments when they return.

“His soul is much lighter than I expected” Matan chimes in.

Food for thought, certainly, but it doesn’t really help them with the spell.

“I think” Dean announces after another few days of fruitless research, “We need to find Rowena”.

“Yes, but how? She’s either with the Men of Letters or she’s shielding herself pretty well” Sam points out.

“Walpurgis Night” Cas says abruptly.

“In three days, it’s April the 30^th.”

“That’s big for witches. They celebrate on hills, perform spells, all the fun stuff” Dean answers, thinking quickly. “She’s bound to participate, right? And if she banks on the Men of Letters keeping her safe from us – they certainly must have some kind of deal – she’ll probably stay near their base.”

That they haven’t switched locations speaks of their arrogance. Hell, Crowley practically blew the place up and according to their friends, they just rebuilt it.

Dean is going to enjoy bringing them down.

First things first, though.

Set Crowley free.

“I can find her” Matan announces. “I will bring her here.”

“Thanks man”.

“It’s no problem”.

That evening, Dean and Aaron share a nightcap.

“Matan seems more... human these days.”

“He’s been learning how to interact properly with people. I don’t like keeping him in a box.”

Dean nods. He understands that.

“Not as human as Cas, though” Aaron says, smirking.

“What can I say? I’m an awesome teacher”. Dean winks.

“I bet.”

After a short, comfortable silence, Aaron begins, “Do you mind if I ask a question?”

“No idea until you do, but go ahead.”

“What happened? When we met, even the idea of a guy hitting on you made you uncomfortable.”

“Officially yeah, but I actually thought you were kind of cute”.

“I – ah – you –“ Aaron stutters, blushing a little.

“But to answer your question, Cas happened. What do I care whether I’m gay or bi or freaking pan if I can have that?”

“You seem very happy together.”

“We are. You know, when the world’s not ending for a change.”

“Kind of feels like it is.”

“What?” Dean puts his glass down.

Aaron raises his hands.

“Not like that. It’s just... I’ve made some contacts in the European hunting community. Over there, it’s still very much like it was in the States when I left – the supernatural on one side, the hunters on the other. This feels like a new beginning.”

“It does.”

It really does. What they’re creating... It feels good. Fair. Balanced.

“I can help. I’ve got a lot of practice fighting against maniacs who want to commit genocide”.

Dean just grins.

Walpurgis Night feels different this year.

She has been celebrating it on her own for centuries now, since she and covens don’t mix well, so that’s not it.

Neither is it about the fact that she just watched another fight between Mary Winchester and Dr. Hess.

She can’t decide which one is more obnoxious.

But it is Walpurgis Night, the only sacred day she has ever known, and she is determined to celebrate it.

But even on the hill she found, the night dancing around her, magic pulsing beneath her fingertips, she doesn’t feel like chanting.

She hasn’t been able to get Fergus off her mind.

It’s ridiculous, really. She wasn’t worried about him when he ran around and wreaked havoc as a boy, so why should she be now?

Maybe the Winchesters finally realized he’s a liability and ended him. The angel might have fallen, but he still has his blade.

But... no. Somehow, illogically, she’s convinced she’d feel it if her son died.

She closes her eyes and focuses on the energy around her.

Walpurgis Night. It’s supposed to be special.

And then something bursts through the trees at the foot of the hill.

The creature just grabs her and drags her away after binding and blindfolding her.

And it’s fast.

She registers it’s a golem, which means it’s immune to spells.

No problem.

At least she thinks so until it doesn’t even react to her demand for the roll in his mouth. Not even when she speaks Hebrew.

His rabbi must have found a way to shield him.

“Let me down!”

It doesn’t listen to her.

“I said let me down, golem!”

“I heard you, but I am not going to. My rabbi and I are helping our friends.”

She can imagine who these friends are.

She’s proven right when, after what feels like hours, she gets carried into a house and the blindfold and bindings are taken off.

“Don’t even think about it. Matan is immune to spells, as you well know, and he’s stronger than you”.

“Dean. Castiel.”

She turns her head.

“Sam.”

She doesn’t recognize the other men in the room.

“Rowena. Long time no see.”

“Frankly, I think it could have stayed that way.”

“In that case you shouldn’t have bewitched Crowley” Dean barks and she’s taken aback by the expression on his face.

That’s not just anger.

There’s worry there as well.

He can’t be worried about her, so it must be –

He’s worried for her son.

A hunter is actually worried about the King of Hell.

He’s not just an asset for them, a weapon to use as she thought when they first met.

He’s a friend.

Against all odds, Fergus found friends.

Insane, rather bloodthirsty friends, but still.

“I – “

“You got a good offer, let’s not pretend it was anything but.”

“Dean” Sam interrupts him gently.

“What? You know I’m right!”

“You are” she admits. “They promised me Hell in exchange for the spell. And no one would ever come after me.”

“Yeah well, that’s not turned out so well, has it.”

“No. A golem... I have to admit I am impressed.”

“Thank you very much” the smaller of the men says. So he’s the rabbi then. Doesn’t look like one.

“So how can we break the spell?”

“What do you care? You’ve clearly kept him locked up somewhere. He can’t do any harm like this.”

“You’ve bound his free will” the ex-angel says gravely. “You’ve made him obey his enemies. It’s not right.”

Here, too. Nothing but concern for her son.

As a matter of fact, they all look worried. Even the golem seems affected.

“Come on. Time for a family reunion”.

As usual, she’s allowed to walk beside them unbound, even though she’s their prisoner. The Winchesters have always been rather chivalrous when it comes to things like that.

The mansion surprises her. It has clearly been erected by Fergus – she can clearly feel his power, although it seems to be... cleaner than before – but the care he has taken to ensure humans can be comfortable here is astounding.

As is seeing him properly. When she cast the spell, he was upset – understandably so, she can still hear the panic in his voice as he called out Mother, please – but here in his – home? He looks more relaxed than in years, like he actually found something like peace.

“Mother” he says, shooting Dean looks that clearly warn him to get her out of his sight.  

“Fergus”.

She takes a deep breath – and stays silent.

She could order him to attack. He can’t leave the room, but they’re all in here, and he could keep the golem occupied long enough for her to slip away –

But.

Fergus would attack his – his –

“One word and I’ll shoot you” Dean hisses at her, having understood what he meant.

One glance was enough.

She takes another deep breath.

“I said – “ Dean begins, but she beats him to it.

“I release you from your bond. I release you from the power I put you under. Be free.”

She never told Hess it’s that easy.

Fergus grimaces and crumbles down on the floor.

“Crowley! What did you to him, you – “

He gets up, clutching Dean’s arm.

“It’s over. I’m free”.

“Are you – sure?”

“Mother, order me to do something”.

He turns to her, his eyes stormy. She wonders if she’s about to die.

“Punch Dean in the face” is the first thing that comes to mind.

He looks at Dean and waits.

After half a minute, the hunter relaxes. Then he apparently surprises everyone in the room, including himself and Fergus, by pulling him into a quick hug.

“Thank God. Good to have you back, Crowley.”

“Good to be back.”

Sam, after grinning at her boy, immediately starts scratching out the sigils they used to keep him in his room with the two other guys and the golem helping.

The group trades glances as they are working, suggesting to her that her end might be near.

Especially since Fergus has his full power back.

“I say, let Crowley decide” Dean suggests. “She’s his mother.”

She expects her neck to get broken any second, but he just studies her.

That’s not the same demon she came to see a few years ago.

She was right. There’s something different about his powers, something... nicer for lack of a better word.

“Get. Out.”

“What?”

“Get out. I never want to see you again. Stay away from me and my friends. And Hell” he adds almost as an afterthought. “And if you should help the Men of Letters again – “

“I’m dead. I know.”

She turns to go. But she hesitates when she reaches the door.

“Fer – Crowley. I’m – glad you found what you were looking for”.

Because, she thinks when she’s finally back in the fresh air, watching the lake glisten in the sunshine, he has, whether he realizes it or not.

A few years ago, Crowley got himself new enemies.

Somehow, someway he’s found a family in them.

Being himself again feels amazing.

The second the spell lifts is... indescribable. Finally able to take a step outside his room, finally his own master once more.

He didn’t expect his mother to let him go so easily. In return he lets her go. She’s too scared for her own hide to attempt to go against them now.

As soon as the warding’s down, he’s in front of the Men of Letter’s base, but finds they’ve strongly increased their protection.

Bollocks. He would have loved to tear them apart limb from limb.

He returns to the mansion to Dean reading him the riot act.

“The second the spell is lifted you just disappear?”

He wasn’t that fast, he could point out. After all he had time to send Mother on her way and... hug Dean.

Strange.

Strange, but not bad.

“I wanted to check on the Men of letters”.

“I’m guessing they fortified their security?” Cas asks.

He nods.

“Would have been too good to be true” Dean mumbles. “Don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving. Burgers, anyone?”

Dean knows he has a weakness for his cooking.

“I’ll get the beer. We have something to celebrate, alright” Sam decides.

“We gotta get Crowley up to speed anyway, might as well do it during dinner” Mick says in something that, while not quite yet a convincing American accent, makes it seem far less likely that he’ll storm into a Starbucks and demand a proper afternoon tea.

“You sure you’re from London?” Aaron asks.

Mick beams. “I’ve been training my accent so I can play fed if it’s necessary”.

“Wonderful. A + for effort, Peachfuzz. Can we leave the room now, please?”

“Sure” Dean says, leading the way. “I imagine you’re sick of these walls.”

“You have no idea”.

“By the way” Aaron asks while they’re walking to the dining room (he’s walking because he finally can again), “last night I wanted to go to the bathroom and ended up at the swimming pool.”

“There’s a lot of power running this place. Why do you think bedrooms keep showing up when we need them? It’s bound to glitch now and then.”

Aaron accepts the explanation as a matter of course.

“Makes for much less cleaning than in the bunker” Dean comments.

“Do you think Mary ever goes back there?”

“There’s nothing left. Crowley saw to that.”

Of course. Not a scrap left for these bastards.

“I like the feel of this place. It’s good” Matan says, still studying Crowley.

The hints are piling up that his soul is not as dark as it used to be. If he’s being honest, it’s rather confusing. He certainly feels like the same demon he always was. He just has... other priorities now.

And Dean’s burgers really are delicious, even if he really makes any excuse he can to cook them.

Not even Moose complains about there not being any salad to eat.

After their meal, they start calling on their allies, so they know he can finally be trusted again.

Well.

As much trusted as it gets, anyway. He is the King of Hell after all.

Speaking of which, he should perhaps go check everything’s well...

Mick hangs up the phone, his face glowing.

“Mel’s coming over.”

On the other hand, Hell can wait.

“Crowley! So good to see you out of that trap!”

“It is better than you having to be carried in a bathtub, mistress of the waves.”

“Oh, really, that was the fun part”.

“Speak for yourself” Dean grumbles, but even he is smiling at the wraith flitting around in their swimming pool.

“Hi Mick” she says casually. He does his best to disappear behind the golem.

“And who’s this?”

“Aaron and Matan, his golem”.

“You do have the most interesting guests.”

“It appears to come with the territory” Cas tells her, eyeing the pool.

“You are one to talk, Mr. angel.”

“Not anymore.”

“I’m sure Dean disagrees.”

“Guys, not that I’m not glad you are enjoying your banter, but there are still people who want to kill all of us” Aaron says.

“Sorry, he’s a bit tense because we didn’t call him...” Sam begins.

“Hello?” he gestures towards his golem.

“Wait” Mel asks, “are we going to literally tear them apart?”

“It would be easy” Aaron answers.

Crowley decides he can stay.

“Yes, but we’re not going for that. Sending the message that we destroy anyone who poses a threat... That’s how they worked for years. That’s how they got big in Britain. We won’t let that happen” Dean says firmly.

“What we’re building... the foundation of it not’s going to be fear”.

Fine by him. He should know best that fear as a method of subjugation only works up to a certain point.

He really should check what the demons have been doing while he’s been gone.

“How moving, Squirrel, but there are more phone calls we need to make. I would go tell our friends, but...”

“They can’t be sure you’re not still under the spell” Dean finishes. “True.”

“I’ll tell the nature spirits” Mel happily offers. “They will be relieved you are who you should be.”

There’s a meaning behind her words he understands only too well.

Still, he has to go to Hell.

“I’ll be back soon” he tells the room.

“Don’t let the demons bite” Dean calls out just as he vanishes.

It has been two months since he was placed under the spell. He hasn’t been here in... perhaps three? His sense of time is still acting up, probably because it was easier to just relax and go with the flow, so to speak, while he was waiting in his room.

Everything seems to be in order. No one appears to great him, but he’s got used to that. Other demons despise him, always have.

He’s still surprised at how Hell feels, though.

No matter how much he abhors the place ever since he was torn apart by hellhounds for his deal, it has always felt like he belongs here.

Because of course he does. Hell’s a demon’s home.

Only this...

God, he can’t wait to get out of here. Either it’s actually worse than he remembers, or he has forgotten just how bad Hell can be, how it tears everything apart, only leaving rage and hatred –

He’s back in his room at the mansion without having made a conscious effort to return to it.

That was... interesting.

He teleports to the library. Everyone’s either on the phone or using other ways of communication.

So the rabbi figured out the Hebrew communication spell. Crowley meant to ask him about that.

Aaron finishes his talk and turns around.

“Al is... really something”.

“That he is.”

“He says to tell you he’s glad he doesn’t have to lie anymore. And someone called Lizzie Hexam almost started to cry?”

“She’s a very affectionate lady.”

“I can tell.”

Aaron’s eyes wander over their little group.

“When Dean told me... I didn’t imagine things to have grown this... big”.

“The Winchesters really changed the landscape in the last two years” he agrees.

“Not them alone...” Aaron trails off. “You know, I was a little worried. When Dean said “King of Hell” I imagined Lucifer 2.0, not...”

“My amazing self. I know.”

Aaron’s next words still surprise him.

“If it wasn’t for the powers, I wouldn’t have guessed you’re a demon.”

That can’t be true, certainly. He is very demonic. He did have a lot of fun with Ketch, after all he was going after his –

Wait. That’s a reason he had fun doing all of that. He’s supposed to –

But no, he’s not. Because the boys wouldn’t like it.

By the time night arrives, he’s rather confused from the day’s events.

Maybe it’s just an after effect of the spell.

Wandering through the mansion, ensuring it’s still safe, he happens across Dean, who’s enjoying a nightcap in the library.

His first drink of the night, it appears.

“Hey, Crowley. Want a drink?”

“Always glad to join. Where’s the hubby?”

“Cas is already in bed. I’m not that tired.”

He pours him a glass of Craig.

“So you’re good?”

He nods.

“Thank God for that. Hunting’s not the same without you in the background being annoying”.

“I want to point out that I am also sarcastic and useful on the forefront.”

Dean chuckles.

“I know that.” He looks at him.

“Still, man. Good to see you out of that trap.”

After a pause he adds, “Missed you.”

He wouldn’t have admitted that a few years ago. But he already hugged him, so he probably figures it doesn’t matter.

“Naturally you did.”

“You are never going to change, aren’t you.”

“You think I haven’t?”

The sincerity of his question surprises.

Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Of course you have.”

Crowley looks away.

“So gonna tell me what this is about? It’s not Rowena, is it?”

He grimaces; that’s a subject for another day.

“No. She cast the spell, but she also set me free without being forced to. She can go and do what she wants. I don’t care.”

“Alright then, something else. Want to talk about it?”

“I hate Hell” he says simply.

“I’ve known that for years.”

“No. When I went there today... I absolutely loathe it. Can’t stand the place.”

He turns his head to find understanding in Dean’s eyes.

“When was the last time you did something really douchy anyway?” he asks abruptly.

Since he’s been wondering the same, he has finally found an answer.

“I blasted that shifter during our last case.”

“When it tried to strangle Mick. That’s hardly a demonic act.”

“There was Ketch.”

“Come on, every single one of us wanted to kill him. That doesn’t count.”

“You don’t know what I did to him.”

“And you seriously don’t think he did the same to others, even though he was human?”

“You’ve grown quite good at discussions” Crowley grinds out through his teeth.

“I’m not even sure what we’re really discussing anymore, so – “

“Do you still think I’m evil?” he interrupts him flatly.

Dean blinks. Takes a sip of his drink.

“You’ve certainly done enough evil deeds in your lifetime. Sammy told me you bragged about it.”

“And then I didn’t kill him.”

He was convinced back then that it was just a move to show his power, to torment Sam Winchester.

He’s not so sure anymore.

“Thanks for that, by the way. But I guess it... depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you want to be evil.”

That question was once so easy to answer, too.

“I...”

He stops.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. What do I know? I’ve been a demon, Sammy got close, Cas became God... There are more things in Heaven and earth...”

“Shakespeare, really?”

Dean shrugs.

“He was right about that, at least.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

And, side by side, the best hunter in the world and the King of Hell sit and enjoy the silence.

Much as he wish like to, he has to return to Hell.

They’ve breached the Men of Letter’s warding once, they will do it again.

Once again, no one is there to greet him.

How Hell feels hasn’t changed, but this time he’s prepared for it.

Despite his objection to having to call his lackeys, he bids them to come to him.

The demons who appear... do not look happy, to put it mildly.

“Crowley” one sneers. “We assumed you’d be too busy hanging out with the Winchesters to pay Hell any attention”.

He’s expecting more in the same tone, but instead the demon takes a double take, and then they are all –

Shuffling back? Trying to get away?

“I demand an explanation” he says calmly.

One of the more pathetic ones, who has always been loyal to him because he wouldn’t dare to think of rebellion, slowly says, “Your soul looks different, oh great one.”

“I am aware” he snaps.

And by God, is he glad he doesn’t look like those ugly sons of bitches around him anymore.

“You’re not one of us anymore”

The one who started complaining in the beginning has recovered, how wonderful.

“How can you expect us to follow you – “

Many murmur in agreement.

And Crowley realizes he’s done.

Yes, they could need the help. But until now, they’ve handled the Men of Letters well on their own.

Who wants Hell, anyway.

“Oh. You plan to overthrow me? Guess what. You can’t. I am abdicating” he announces.

It seems to be taken as another scary proof of the change that’s come over him, since he realized where and what he actually wants to be. They withdraw again.

“And just so you know how much I despise all of you, every single one of you pathetic boring low-level scumbags can kiss my – “

The do attack him after all at that, but he’s always been able to get out of scrapes quickly.

“So I’ve been working“ Claire says instead of a greeting when he picks up.

Cas is immediately worried – he of all people should know some hunters tend to run into dangerous situations without thinking of consequences first – but he’s learned that she won’t respond well should he choose to express this, so he asks “On what?”

She chuckles.     

“I can tell you’re freaking out. Don’t worry, I’m safe and well. Listen. Since you obviously don’t want me on the front line, since you didn’t even tell me someone’s trying to kill all of you, I thought I could do some... campaigning.”

“Campaigning?”

“Yeah. I talked to Jody. Turns out not those she and others contacted are standing behind you – “

“We are aware, but we think that with the support we have – “

“I get that, but it’s always better to have more friends, right?”

She pauses, probably for dramatic effect, as teenagers are wont to do.

“So I have been talking to their kids – well, of those who have them, anyway.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look, Cas, it’s easy. Being neutral is fine and all, but you can’t ignore planned genocide forever, not even if you’re a hunter who only sees black and white. You might be able to contradict your peers, fine enough. But if a nice young girl befriends your nice young girl and your nice young girl learns the truth about the Winchesters she’s only ever heard crazy stories about before... you guys are legends, by the way. It’s insane.”

“We do our best” he deadpans, hoping it will get a chuckle out of her. It does.

“So eleven more hunter families at the east coast are keeping their eyes open.”

“Claire, that’s... thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just stay safe, alright? And invite me to the wedding.”

“Dean and I haven’t talked about - oh. That was a joke.”

“Getting better all the time. Talk to you soon, Cas!”

“Take care of yourself, Claire.”

He will be eternally grateful for the bond he’s developed with Jimmy Novak’s daughter. He sends a short prayer of thanks to his father before he goes to tell Dean and the others of the newest developments.

They’ve developed a routine of sorts. Dean jokingly refers to the room next to the library they’ve filled with the information their contacts give them as their “war room”. Usually at least one of them can be found there at this time of the day.

He enters to find Mick checking out their map of the west coast. He’s busy circling towns he considers as probably desirable for the Men of Letters to stay at. They’re too smart to risk being taken down in one swoop.

And yet that’s exactly what they are planning. The Men of Letters don’t know how far their network reaches, thanks to Crowley having used the loopholes the spell he was under allowed and them feeding him false information during that time.

That reminds him –

“Have you seen Crowley?”

He wasn’t at breakfast today for the first time since Rowena lifted the spell, and according to Dean, the talk they shared that night was “intense”. Maybe Crowley needs some time for himself.

Cas a feeling how this story will end.

He’s already lived through it.

“No. But I don’t think he’s in trouble. The Men of Letters know better than to try something that already failed.”

He nods, noting that Mick doesn’t bat an eyelid anymore when he mentions his former employers. He’s found a place for himself in their midst remarkably quickly.

Certainly faster than Cas ever decided he wished to stay with Dean.

“Cas? Are you alright?”

He blinks.

“Yes. I just... remembered something.”

Mick grimaces.

“I know how that feels like.”

His phone rings and his face lights up. With a polite excuse, he brushes past Cas.

And the former angel knows exactly how this feels like, he reflects with a smile.

Falling in love.

He’s aware that... problems may arise with the budding romance they’re witnessing. Mel is a water wraith, a creature meant to live for centuries, and she does not possess the luxury that Cas had. She can never become human.

But then, she wouldn’t if she could. Mel is her own spirit, she is one with her element. She knows what she wants... and for the time being, it’s Mick.

 Cas hopes their friend won’t get hurt.

Dean comes into the room.

“Hey. Mick’s busy talking.”

He grins the easy, happy grin Cas has gotten used to ever since they set off on the road together, and as always, his heart skips a beat.

“Claire called. She has been “campaigning”.

Dean chuckles and kisses him.

“Should have known she wouldn’t stay put. So what did she say?”

When Cas is done bringing him up to speed, they hear the tell-tale heavy steps of the golem.

Dean smiles.

“Aaron got a little distracted by the Hebrew section of our library today. Apparently he already found three texts he believed were no longer available.”

“Crowley really stocked it well” he responds. “By the way, have you seen him?”

“No. Don’t expect to. Trust me, he just needs some time alone, is all.”

He relaxes. Dean knows Crowley well. If he says there’s nothing to worry about, there isn’t.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asks Aaron and Matan after they’ve come in.

Aaron grins speepishly.

“Sorry. But the text I found may give me some close how to unravel their necromancing spell once and for all...”

“Don’t be sorry, that’s great news.” Dean nudges him. “Cas here has some too. His kind of-daughter has been working for us.”

“Not my daughter, Dean.”

“Close enough.”

“She’s yours too, then” he teases him, his beloved blushing and looking away.

He’d make a wonderful father, Cas is sure. Dean is great with children.

And perhaps, who knows, once things have settled down...

He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on the thought.

After Sam has joined them and Mick has come back from his phone call, still smiling happily, everyone except Crowley knows about the newest development.

He saves them from trying to contact him by crashing into the war room a moment later.

“What the – Crowley!”

Dean hastens to help him up.

“You alright? Were the Men of Letters – “

“No” he admits, grimacing. He doesn’t appear to be injured, although his suit is dirty and torn.

“Demons.”

“Demons? Don’t they know better than to attack you?”

Crowley dis- and a moment later reappears with a glass in his hand.

“That’s better”. He takes a huge gulp.

“I went to Hell. I figured if I could get enough support, I might be able to break the wardings as I did before.”

“What happened?” Cas asks.

“Turns out, the reason I saw no one during my last short visit is that they are not exactly keen on my leadership.”

“We knew that before” Dean comments.

“Yeah, and you’ve always been able to reel them in, right?”

“Not this time. Turns out...” he trails off.

It’s Matan who guesses the answer.

“Your true face has changed.”

Crowley nods.

“Your – what does that mean?” Dean demands at the same time as Sam requires, “Was it the spell?”

Crowley shoots him a look that’s... almost offended.

And Cas understands.

All the time he had under the spell to think about what he wants and where he belongs, his talk with Dean, his admission that he hates Hell...

“No it wasn’t” he says simply.

Crowley nods.

“I’m afraid yours truly has become too good to lead Hell.”

“So what happens now? Is there someone else?”

He smirks.

“No, don’t worry. The Princes and Knights of Hell are either uninterested in taking over or dead. And there is no one around who could do what I have done. They wouldn’t even attack me. They’re scared of the changes the golem’s noticed.”

“But then why...” Dean gestures towards his suit.

“Using that to tell them what I thought of them once and for all might not have been the best idea” Crowley admits.

Dean groans.

“You didn’t.”

“Can you blame me? They’re all these whiny, egotistical, annoying sons of bitches who can’t understand why they haven’t taken over the earth despite being dumb as bricks!”

“Tell us how you really feel. You got away okay, right?”

“Yes. They tried, but most were still too scared to do anything, and I’ve still got my powers.”

“So you’re not the King of Hell anymore?” Aaron asks.

“I have resigned.”

“Pah”. Dean shakes his head, taking Cas’ hand. “A honorific can easily be bestowed. You’ll always be King to us, right guys?”

“Definitely very... kingly” Cas lightly agrees.

Now, dirty and hated by demonkind, more than ever. He almost wishes he were still an angel so he could see the changes in Crowley’s soul.

He squeezes Dean’s hand.

Almost.

“The royal family has got nothing like him” Mick says.

“A reformed demon is worth all of Hell” Matan announces.

Sam actually raises his hand for a fist bump, which Cas can see surprises Crowley.

Yes, they’ve changed a lot since the King of Hell first showed up and helped him and Dean deal with that dragon two years ago.

“Sadly this means I won’t be able to break through their security” Crowley explains, downing his glass.

“We’ll just have to find another way, then”. Dean turns and looks at Matan.

“I assume you can break Brits as easily as Nazis?”

“Of course. I can do anything my rabbi orders me to.”

“Requests. What he requests” Aaron is quick to correct him.

He was hesitant about the whole aspect of ownership from the first, Dean told Cas.

“So, what are we going to do now?” Sam asks. “According to Lizzie, they expect more reinforcements”.

“Quite frankly, I’m tired of these bastards running around our country. I think it’s time we throw them out.”

“Alright then, time to attack. I can get behind that” Crowley replies.

“Yes, there’s just...” Dean trails off.

Cas is still holding his hand. He can guess what his beloved will say next. He’s been thinking about it ever since Rowena left.

“I think we should try and talk to Mary again”.

“What?” Sam splutters. “Dean, she called you a monster! She’s not interested in – “

“I am not saying we should give her a get out of jail free card. Hell, I’m not even saying call her Mom and try to grovel hoping we can somehow get her back. All I’m saying is we try to reach out and explain to her what we’ve been doing one last time, without giving anything away, of course. And if she still insists that all monsters must be eradicated and that I am one of them... That me and Cas and Crowley are monsters, than that’s it. One more chance to listen. That’s all she gets.”

The brothers share a long look.

Eventually Sam nods.

“Alright. Just one more try. And if she doesn’t want to listen...”

“She’s going down with the rest of them” Dean finishes.

They decide to contact Mary separately since, as he tells Sam, “If we meet her at the same time, she’ll only focus on you anyway. She did that from the beginning. Guess she knew I was a lost cause.”

“Dean...”

“Hey, I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. Imagine her and John hunting together.”

“Nothing left alive” his brother replies lightly and they laugh.

“Wait, do we even still have her number?” Sam asks.

He never saved it in his new phone after he destroyed his old one because of that text she sent him about Dean.

“Mick remembers it. Apparently “memorizing contact data” was on their schedule too”.

“Of course it was”.

Sam was never put through any training, probably because they wanted the “stupid” hunters to stay exactly that.

“Dean” he says after a pause, “You know that... no matter what happens... No matter what she says...”

“Relax, Sammy, I know.”

“Yes, but I need you to hear it.”

Now more than ever.

He hasn’t forgotten why he left the bunker. He hasn’t forgotten why he summoned Crowley of all people, why he had to find his brother or watch the man he thought he was slowly vanish in blood and pain and guts.

“Dean, I am on your side. Now and until we die. I should always have been.”

Dean looks down on the table.

“Sam –“                          

“No. I should have been, and I am.”

Their eyes meet again. Dean smiles.

 “Thank you”.

She knew this would happen. She knew they would eventually contact her.

Sam must have worked on Dean. Maybe he got him away from the angel and the demon once he realized what he’d done when he left.

We need to talk.
Dean.

It’s far from the nervous question if he could still call her Mom, back when she had to take a little time for herself, but it’s better than nothing.

She decides not to tell Hess.

They are meeting in a small diner near their base – she’s unsure if Dean thinks it’s an insult or not. But then, they did rebuild it to show that not even the King of Hell scared them, so perhaps it a sign of respect.

He looks even better than she remembers. There’s a peace and happiness in his eyes she really hopes comes from finally seeing the light.

It’s a dirty work they’re doing, but they’re saving the whole world.

Sadly, she soon learns she was mistaken.

“Mary” he greets her calmly.

“Dean”.

She sits down.

“How are you?”

“I’m great. Thanks for asking. And you?”

“Our work continues to pile up.”

Why is he smiling?

“I know”.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Yes.”

He sits up and the atmosphere changes.

She realizes this is not a family reunion.

It’s a negotiation between members of enemy fractions.

“Mary. Are you aware what Hess and the Men of Letters are planning to do to us?”

“Of course. Your actions have not been... very helpful.”

They will, sadly, need to be punished, at least in Hess’ point of view. Mary thinks she might be able to sway some of the other Men of Letters who’ve recently arrived from the States. They’re still in awe of the Winchester’s reputation.

They’re not completely aware what her sons have done with it yet.

“They want to kill us, Mary. That’s all. They want to hunt us down like they hunt down monsters.”

She remembers that the word cost her the by that point very one-sided relationship with Sam and swallows.

“That – can’t be true. They know what you are – “

“Yes. In their eyes, traitors. And why? Because we’d prefer peace over genocide.”

“It’s not genocide” she replies, baffled.

How can he think that? They’re not harming humans. They are getting rid of those that hurt them.

“No? So you are not trying to eliminate certain racial groups you consider undesirable?”

“Dean, they’re monsters! They’re not... they’re not human. They’re nothing like us.”

Unexpectedly, he chuckles.

“I guess that’s true enough. You should see Al. Wonderful guy, but try to explain to him that dream hopping can – “

“Dream... Dean, what is he?”

Dean takes a sip from his glass – water, she notes.

“A djinn.”

“You’re friends with a djinn?”

She doesn’t know why it surprises her. Maybe she thought that the angel and the demon were enough monsters to leech off of Dean.

“For the record, he bakes a mean pie. But that’s not the point. This is it. Us or them. You’re with us or you’re against us. There’s no middle ground here.”

“Dean. Monsters are evil. They hunt us. They hurt us. They need to be destroyed.”

“And with how many monsters have you ever spoken?”

“I spoke with your angel and the King of Hell” she spits and regrets it immediately as his face falls.

“Cas is not a monster – and neither is Crowley. For that matter. You should know. You saw him save Cas’ life, remember? When you wouldn’t give up a weapon to save us all.”

“Dean...”

“And then your friends turned him into a puppet.”

“We’re doing this for the good of the people – I’m doing this for you, Dean. For you and your brother.”

For a second, she reads something like disgust on his face. Then he calms down.

Not for the first time she asks herself if they perhaps... did something to him. Scrambled his mind. Made him forget right and wrong.

“I told you. They want to kill us. And we – we’re giving you a chance. A good chance. To change this world, but not through senseless killings. Human and monsters can find a balance. They can live together. It doesn’t have to be one side against the other, devouring each other for all time.”

“I don’t know you” is all she can say. “I don’t recognize my son in you.”

“Then maybe” he answers, standing up, “You should have tried to get to know him. Goodbye, Mary.”

He leaves her there without looking back.

She keeps sitting at the table, staring at the place her son has just vacated, until the waitress tries to cheer her up with “All men are idiots, honey” as if she’s a woman scorned by her lover.

She storms out.

It’s time to give up on Dean, she knows. There’s nothing of her beautiful, happy boy left. Nothing but an empty hull filled with the beliefs the angel and the demon have been whispering in his ears.

If only she’d come back years ago. If only she’d never died.

And yet, she still hopes. Hopes for a miracle.

And a day later, it seemingly occurs.

It’s Sam who wants to meet her, this time. And it’s actually a nice restaurant.

Maybe he noticed the changes in his brother. Maybe he realized his mistake.

Yet he opens the conversation with, “Why won’t you believe Dean?”

“How can I? He’s been under the influence of those... of his friends. And he’s not thinking clearly – “

“For a long time, he was the only one who did.”

“You can’t believe that.”

The year they spent together flashes before her eyes.

Sam, beheading vampires, setting wendigos on fire, helping her kill ghouls, always deadly, always reliable.

“What happened? Why did you leave?” she asks. Maybe, if she hears his reasons, she can make him see –

“Because I hated what I saw in the mirror. That wasn’t me. That was Dad.”

“Your father was a wonderful man.”

Sam sighs.

“Mom...”

“I was waiting for you to call me Mom”.

“Mary” he corrects himself.

“He might have been a good man once. I can’t say much about that. But if you really believe he stayed that way, you should have paid more attention to his journal.”

The diary of a broken, bitter man.

“He did what he had to do.”

“No, he did what he thought he had to do while Dean was left to look after me.”

“Sam...”

“No. Mom. Dean told you. They want to kill us.”

“Even if some of them do, you can reason...”

“No. What makes you think you can reason with them and not with monsters?”

“Monsters don’t think like us! They have a certain way they do things... call it instinct, magic, they will never change.”

“No” he suddenly agrees, looking into her eyes. “You’re right. Monsters never change.”

And with these words, he leaves her, just like Dean did.

She’s lost her family.

Again.

But still...

She can’t let anyone hurt them. They’re her boys.

She marches into Hess’ office.

“What are you planning to do to them?”

“To who?”

“Don’t try to play games. My sons.”

She stands up.

“Your sons have become a liability. They are fraternizing with monsters.”

“I can make them – “

“Run away from you? That seems to be the one thing you have achieved so far.”

She has to think like them.

“In the beginning, you wanted us so you could influence American hunters. That didn’t work out. Fine. But if you go against them, there might be others who rise against you.”

“You really think so?”

“Why do you think the other hunters barely reacted to your offers? They do want a world without monsters, but not one without their legends.”

Certainly, certainly others must agree with her still. How could anyone believe monsters capable of making decisions like living in peace with humans? How could anyone believe her sons? How could anyone believe this... this... utopian idea?

Hess hums.

“You have a better idea?”

She hates doing this, but it’s necessary.

“Break them. Kill the angel and the demon. The monsters who made them what they are.”

It will hurt them, but it will be for the best.

“You think that will be enough?”

“I think it could be a start.”

“Mrs. Winchester, let me ask you a question. If it comes to it... Can you stand against your sons?”

She thinks about it. It’s painful, of course; but in many ways, Sam and Dean are not her sons. Not the babies she left behind, not the men they would have grown up to be if she had been there.

She has to get rid of those around them to ensure she can turn them into what they could be.

“Yes."

Sam doesn’t look good when he returns.

Dean has already gotten over it. Actually he had nothing to get over. He lost all confidence in Mary before he left.

He simply told Sam, kissed Cas, and played a round of pool with the guys.

Easy.

But Sam...

“Sammy?”

He hugs him.

A little too enthusiastically.

“Sam... need... air...”

“Sorry” he says, letting him go. “I just... it didn’t work.”

“I’m not surprised. To be honest, reaching out... it was more out of principle than anything else. Give her one last chance...”

“I know. I’m just – I’m glad I didn’t stay.”

“Me too.”

Dean smiles.

“Guess we just didn’t have the best parents.”

“I did. And they did everything for me”.

“Sammy...”

“Oh sorry, Moose, Squirrel, didn’t realize you were having a moment.”

“It’s alright, Crowley.”

He squeezes his brother’s shoulder.

There’s nothing more to say.

“Let’s just get everyone into the war room, alright? I think it’s time.”

Sam nods.

It is indeed time to take them down.

The call comes.

It is time.

Time to once and for all stand behind their protectors, time to fight against those who would eradicate them, time to pay them back for the work they have done.

They remember a time when things were different. When anyone going against the Winchester would have been hailed as a hero. When the sole mention of the name was enough to strike their hearts with terror.

Even though it has only been two years, it feels so long ago now. So very long ago.

There is a chance for a new life, a better life.

Their children, their children’s children could live in a world where they don’t have to hide and lie and cheat just to survive.

They hear the call.

And they rise.

The Winchesters need help.

For some, it seems they have been waiting to hear these words for years. The Winchesters are legends, heroes. They’ve saved the world more often than the hunters can count.

It’s time to save them.

Dean looks into the mirror and swallows.

He’s wearing his usual get up, jeans and t-shirt – and a new leather jacket Cas bought him a few days ago.

Just wear something you’ll be comfortable in, he said.

He looks comfortable enough in his own skin.

And, then, suddenly, he realizes that he feels it, too.

He’s about to address a room full of monsters and hunters, and –

It’s fine. He can do this.

He has taken on the role. He has chosen his path.

Cas steps up to him.

“Dean?”

He turns around, smiling.

“I’m ready. I’m actually ready”.

“I know you are.”

He kisses him, a bit more passionately than they have time for.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

The meeting room their enchanted mansion has created is quite frankly too huge to even fit in there.

Thank God for Crowley’s demon magic.

“I’ll go in first” Cas tells him.

“You should step in there alone.”

“If you think...”

“I know”. He gently touches his cheek and enters the room.

Where everyone is waiting for Dean.

He takes another deep breath. He’s ready for this, but that doesn’t mean he’s not nervous.

Crowley has set the stage perfectly. Of course. The door that led everyone else, except his family, into auditorium brings him on the stage.

Even knowing who they called for help, he’s still taken aback by the sheer number of people.

Eighty? One hundred? More? He can’t say.

He sees Mel in her bathtub, Al next to her, grinning; Jesse and Cesare, apparently not so retired after all; Jody, Claire, Donna and Alex, all of them looking ready to kill anything that dare come near them; Garth and his family; Lizzie Hexam, George and their baby boy giggling happily at the antics of a family of phoenixes they met in Arizona a while ago; Alicia and Max plus their mother the witch; ghouls, vampires, hunters, all working together, all here for them.

He comes to stand between Sam and Cas, Crowley shooting him a smirk.

“Thank you all for coming.”

Shouts of “Of course!” start ringing out, Mel enthusiastically splashing around.

Dean turns his head to see Mick mouthing “There’s a Cherufe” behind you. She promptly stops moving – good, considering the creature’s part magma and already starting to get nervous.

He winks at Mick, who blushes and clears his throat.

“Anyway. You know why we are here”.

“To get rid of the Men of Letters!” Al enthusiastically shouts.

“Yes. Correct. As you know, they have been...”

“Murderous bastards” Crowley supplies.

“Exactly.”

“I have a question” Eileen, having flown over from Ireland, raises her hand.

He appreciates the gesture.

“Yes?”

“Not that I don’t trust you” she addresses Crowley, “But I thought you were the King of Hell?”

“I abdicated” Crowley replies.

And apparently he knows sign language. Awesome.

She nods.

“Yes, I was about to mention that. Just for the record: Crowley is a demon, but not the King anymore, and he’s on our side. Mick here left the douche bags quite some time ago. And Matan only looks big and scary, but he’s really a nice golem. You can trust everyone on this stage.”

He waits, but not a single dissenting voice is to be heard.

It’s nice not to be contradicted.

 “As you know, the Men of Letters have been bringing reinforcements into the country. Mick has been doing a great job at figuring out where they might park. They’ve got at least one reinforcement on each coast.”

“Which have been shielded very carefully against supernatural interference” Crowley adds. “I can’t find them.”

“So what we need is to know where exactly they are planted so we can attack them all at the same time. No exceptions.”

“Do you want us to kill them?” Claire asks. Jody grumbles something under her breath but is trying to hide a smile.

“First of all, no fighting if you’re still under age”. Claire sinks into her chair, pouting. “Second of all, no. We want them captured. Kill only if it cannot be avoided. We want to teach them a lesson they won’t forget soon. This is our country, our rules, we do things differently.”

“They are dangerous. They know their lore” Sam chimes in. “They’ve got a lot of practice when it comes to eliminating...” he stops.

“You can say monsters, it’s okay” a ghoul assures him. He smiles weakly and continues, “Monsters. The point is, we need everyone to be careful.”

“As soon as we have everything under control, we will bring them to a secure location and try to reason with them” Cas adds.

“Courtesy of yours truly” Crowley says.

“And what if” Mel asks “they don’t agree with you?”

The room grows silent.

“Then” Dean announces. “We do what we have to.”

“That went well” Dean decides that evening in the kitchen. Hell, they even applauded him when he ended the meeting.

He and Cas are alone – or at least as alone as they can be these days. Sam is in the library with Mick, Aaron is teaching Matan how to play pool, Crowley is doing – whatever he likes to now he doesn’t have to keep demons in check anymore and the girls have chosen rooms for themselves and are making themselves comfortable.

“I knew it would.”

Dean smiles.

“Just because you think I am irresistible, doesn’t mean everyone does.”

“Everyone seems to” Cas grumbles. As always when he shows signs of jealousy, Dean can only laugh.  

“Even so” he draws him close. “No one has lived through what we have. Together.”

“I am certain – seriously? In the kitchen? That’s just unsanitary.”

Dean pulls back from their (admittedly) inappropriate kiss and looks at Crowley.

“You’re a demon, what do you care about that?”

“I will let you know that I like the kitchen I built with my bare hands to be clean and orderly.”

“So what did you find out?” Cas asks, still holding Dean close.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

“Now, now, feathers, why don’t you start more nicely, perhaps with an offer to join...”

Their relaxed silence puts him off guard. Frankly, they’re too used to Crowley’s quips by now.

“Yes, I – I mean – one does feel so left out. Especially since our British friend has left Sam and joined a certain someone for a midnight swim.”

Good for Mick, but it still doesn’t tell them what Crowley wants to tell them.

Then he comes to the point.

“I think I found their centre in California”.

“Perfect”.

Dean grins.

“So I was thinking of attacking in a week..."

All these weapons, and so little that can truly once and for all kill a demon.

The angel will be no problem. He fell. He can be dealt with.

But the demon...

Mary has been working tirelessly on the Colt. Her father was always stretching how important it is she know her weapons. She never thought she’d be glad for it one day.

What they need are bullets. Once they have that...

She just knows everything will be different once these two no longer poison her sons’ minds.

She still boils with rage just imagining what they must have done to Dean to make him treat her so. Looking at her as if they’re not related, calling her Mary, thinking it’s her fault...

She’ll fix this. She’ll fix them.

She just needs the right formula. She just needs the bullets.

Mary is going to put one right between the demon’s eyes.

They are getting ready.

Their protectors called, and they are answering.

Their networks are spreading, looking, searching. They can’t hide from something they don’t know exists.

The Men of letters will be conquered. The will create a new way of life, hunters and monsters alike.

But first they will save the Winchesters.

Today’s the day.

Mary has finally figured it out. Certain markings were missing.

And now...            

Now the Colt works. She can feel it in her bones.

She’s tempted to summon the demon and get it over with, but she’s come to the conclusion it won’t work. They had him under their control, and it brought them nothing.

No. She has to execute him in front of her sons. They have to watch him die. They have to understand.

Right afterwards, she’ll kill the angel.

She only hopes it will be enough to wake them up.

If not...

She’ll find a way. She knows that.

Al is starting early.

Tomorrow’s going to be the day, but his special talents make things… a little more complicated.

The Men of Letters won’t know what hit them.

He’ll confuse them more than he did Mick, the poor guy. He didn’t realize at the time; he really thought he was doing him a favour when he showed him his parents.

This time, it’s supposed to hurt.

Men are so easy to read once they let their guard down; once they are asleep.

He has never shared the sadism of his immediate family, but he can’t help but admit a certain... satisfaction. They will hurt, but that’s a price he’s more than willing to pay.

He enters their drams. One by one.

It’s easy. One of them suffers from claustrophobia, for crying out loud. Up and down a creepy dark corridor it is. All night.

Another one? Spiders? Easy as pie.

He stops when it comes to the boss of that particular camp, though.

Another orphan.

Abandonment.

But Al steels his heart.

They had all the information Mick has, and more. They could have just another path, like he did.

But they are still ready to kill every monster in this country.

None of them will be well rested tomorrow when the troop attacks.

One of the guys Al has to deal with is particularly nasty. He enjoys killing way too much. Probably got along great with that Ketch fellow.

Time to make him feel what it is like, being torn apart.

By sunrise, he has them all awake, scared, worried, panicking, just like he wanted.

Time to call Kate.

He has made them so tired and paranoid, he gets the message that they have been dealt with only one hour later.

Al grins.

Now, as long as the Winchesters are alright, everything will work out fine.

Today’s the day.

They have been working towards this for years, even if they didn’t know it at first.

The first day of the new world, if all works out the want they want it to.

They are up before sunrise.

The war room is busy. Every single one of them is coordinating some other group, even Matan, who certainly sounds more human with each passing day.

Thinking of Crowley, Dean wonders if that’s just part of becoming their friend now.

Or rather, he would wonder if he had time.

“Thanks, Garth. Keep us posted, will you?”

“Oh don’t worry Dean. We will.”

There’s the excitement of the hunter in his voice. Dean knows that only too well.

The pack surrounds the house.

They are just waiting for Garth to give the signal.

Dean and Cas have chosen a good day. They’re right in the middle of their cycle.

Strong enough to attack, but not wolfing out.

“Alright guys. Here goes. For the Winchesters.”

“For the Winchesters” his family whispers back.

They were right.

The Men of Letters are woefully unprepared, and no amount of screaming “The werewolf protocol!” can help them.

“You really thought this would work? Taking over?” he asks.

“We’re not just some wannabe hunters you can shove around and order to behave”.

“Let me go, you mutt!” a woman shrieks.

He laughs.

As he hangs up, he hears the end of Crowley’s talk with Mel.

“Do not worry. The spirits of the bayou will catch them.”

“Thank you, mistress of the waves.”

“Anything for you, my King”.

Crowley catches Dean’s eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. I may be many things, but I am not a cheater.”

“Stay calm, I’m just glad they are dealing with that branch.”

“Tell yourself that, Squirrel.”

He shakes his head.

He should be tense, he knows that. This should feel just like their other many desperate save-the-world missions.

Only it doesn’t.

Because this time the world is on their side.

Only the enemy doesn’t know it yet.

So far, it looks like they’ve got all the bases covered.

Claire has talked Jody into letting her help out. True, Jody never agreed to her actually being part of the action, but this is the life she has chosen.

She’s ready to fight.

For Cas. For Dean. For Sam.

And the woman in the pants suit isn’t much of a danger, really. She has her unarmed within seconds.

“Why are you doing this?” she hisses while she ties her up.

“Because you went against my family” is all she says.

They don’t need long to take over. They might be well-trained, but they are still stupid in certain regards.

“You’re really good for your age” a young shapeshifter named Tony tells her, grinning.

“I could say the same. Or are you actually an old hag masquerading as a teenager?”

He laughs.

“And a sense of humour. I like it.”

“Why are you talking to that abomination – “ one of their prisoners starts to shout.

“Unlike you, he actually knows how to talk to a lady” she tells him. “That’s why.”

They will never know what hit them.

The big one, though – Dr. Hess and Mary – they will deal with themselves.

Crowley will bring them as close as he can, then wait on the sidelines (which he has been complaining endlessly about, for the record). They have no idea what’s inside their, maybe waiting to put the demon under their control again.

If Rowena should decide to intervene, Dean knows what he’ll do.

Mel’s waiting for them in the swimming pool

“It’s started” she says, eyes closed, listening to many voices running through the waters far away.

“Be safe”.

Her eyes open and follow Mick as they leave the room.

Crowley puts them within a mile of the base, looking angry.

“Wait an hour. If you don’t hear from us...”

“You’ll hear from me, Squirrel. Loudly.”

They have decided that Aaron and Matan will go after the many unimportant Men of Letters in the base, while the rest of the group searches for their boss and Mary. They might be together, might not. According to Crowley, they don’t like each other much.

Breaking in is almost disgustingly easy.

The Men of Letters have no idea what a good lock looks like, and Dean’s been breaking and entering since he was five.

As he has done so often, Sam gives him light, but this time, changes beacons.

While they are walking down the base’s corridors, now and then taking care of those they stumble across, something unexpected happens.  

The warding has gone down.

Crowley’s at their side in an instant. His eyes flee from one to the next, relief clearly to read on his face.

“Hello boys”.

“Crowley” Cas grunts while holding down Elton. “Would you – “

He knocks him out.

“Thank you” he says, standing up.

“Always glad to help, feathers. I’ll go first”.

Before anyone can speak against him, he sweeps past Dean.

He rolls his eyes.

Really, things are fine –

“What the – “

“Invisible ink” Mary’s voice drones from the other room. “On the ceiling. You can’t escape.”

They burst in. Mary is pointing the Colt at Crowley.

Dean’s blood runs cold.

“Mary!”

“Dean. Sam. Don’t worry, this will all be over soon.”

For a second, he’s a little boy again, scared because of nightmares.

“Mom, don’t, please...”

For a second, she hesitates.

For a second, Dean breathes.

And then her finger tightens around her finger, and her eyes grow cold, and he knows he’s not near enough and not fast enough and she’s going to shoot his friend –

A single drop of water falls down on Mary’s nose.

They will never know how this particular drop came to collect itself on that spot of this ceiling. Not even Mel will be able to explain how she could suddenly control one drop of water in the vast empty room to save her friends, the first and only time on this afternoon that she was able to penetrate the base at all.

“The world is full of secrets” she will say. “Perhaps the universe was trying to be fair”.

Water is patient.

Water is wild.

Water has no time.

Water waits too long.

Water can never be stopped.

Mel likes to think she shares that characteristic with her element .

She’s sitting at the bottom of the lake she found near her cousins, concentrating, almost every last bit of her focused in a different drop, a different location.

They need someone to be their eyes, all of their eyes.

Mel is coordinating with her brethren. All of them have been sick of being hunted like animals for a long time, and most were eager to learn about the new path that has opened for them.

They have their own plans for the rest of the planet.

Once empty lakes must be filled again. The world must find its balance again.

But that’s for later.

Now, what matters is that today works out. That today, the Men of Letters get captures as they deserve to be.

Be careful, be vigilant , she sings through the waves.  Stay strong. It will all be over soon. We will win.

If only she could see into the Men of Letter’s base, but it’s dry, so dry, too dry to live.

She hopes Mick is alright. They have a future. If he survives.

And then, just for a second, a tiny fragment of a moment, she is there. In the base. Mary Winchester is pointing a gun at Crowley. Everyone else looks terrified.

She is too. But she is water, she is tempestuous, she is calm, and she knows what has to be done.

Water always knows.

The drop she sees through falls down on Mary Winchester’s face.

She’ll never know how it got there.

But she knows it was the plan of the universe all along.

As long as it helps the Winchester, she doesn’t mind at all.

But Dean couldn’t care less at this moment, because it sufficiently distracts Mary so he can jump between her and Crowley.

“Dean!”

His whole family safe the woman who gave birth to him shouting his name, Crowley included, almost makes him stop. But only almost.

“Mary, put it down.”

“Move out of the way.”

“Mary...”

“Dean. I am doing this...”

“For us, I know” he snaps. “But here’s the deal: Crowley has done more for us than you can ever imagine. He’s a friend. And I am not moving. You want to kill him – you have to kill me first.”

He thought she could no longer hurt him. He believed he had long ago let go of ever delusion he still held regarding his mother.

Dean’s proven wrong when she glances towards Sam and he realizes that she’s contemplating sacrificing him to reach her goal.

“Dean, move away!”

It’s not Mary who orders him to do it.

It’s Crowley.

“Not freaking likely.”

“It’s not a request, Squirrel!”

“And since when do I take orders from you?”

Mary is following their exchange, wide-eyed but determined.

“It’s not difficult, Mummy Winchester! Just move to the side!”

Oh God, Crowley is actually telling her how to shoot best without harming him in the process.

“Mary” Dean says slowly, taking a step towards her. Then another.

“If you think I will allow you to shoot my best friend... and then the man I love... while I just stand by, pull the trigger. I know you’ve already thought about it. Go ahead. Because while I am alive, you are not going to harm a hair on their heads...”

He’s still walking towards this woman he doesn’t know, has never known. He’s still walking towards his mother, the one he fought more than half his life to avenge. He’s still walking towards Mary, the woman who has sworn to destroy what he holds most dear in this world.

He won’t allow her to. He’d rather die.

“Mary...”

The colt shakes.

“Mother”.

The colt starts to point down.

“Mom”.

The colt falls down on the floor.

He feels shaken and weak as he tosses it to the side.

“And I thought I was a terrible mother”.

“Rowena?” Sam exclaims.

“Who do you think destroyed the wardings?”

The witch strolls into the room.

“Don’t worry about her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything”.

With a wave of her hand, the demon trap cracks and Crowley walks free.

“Go” she tells them before anyone can speak.

Dean nods at her and moves.

Crowley quickly takes care of the Men of Letters who try to approach them; and the few he doesn’t notice are easily brought down.

Dr. Hess is waiting in her office.

Dean can respect that. She knows when she’s lost.

“Mr. Winchesters”. Her eyes roam across all of them, lingering on Mick.

“Misters Winchesters.”

Mick actually laughs – a happy, carefree laugh.

“Remember Tim, Dr. Hess?” he asks.

Dean doesn’t say anything. He deserves this.

She stiffens.

“I know what you are thinking” Sam pipes up. “But we have covered all of your bases. They’re under our control now”.

“Plus we have a demon on our side, so, you know” Dean adds.

Dr. Hess answers, “But no angel.”

Dean laughs as Cas shuffles his feet, raising his blade. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that”.

“We are stronger than you. There are many more of us in England...”

“Oh, I know. Which is why we will be making contact with European hunters, don’t worry. Right now the questions is whether you are ready to work with us or not.”

“And if I don’t I die? What makes you think I care about that? I will die for my ideals. I will be a martyr.”

“Not if someone who knows what you have them do pulls the trigger” Mick announces, stepping up to Dean.

“This is my kill” he tells him.

Dean nods.

“For Timothy” he says.

“For Tim” Mick echoes.

He shoots her right between the eyes.

Dean gets a text from Aaron.

Everything under control.

Here as well, he types as an answer. They still have to check in with the rest, but he feels in his bones that for once, they are winning.

“Let’s go see our mother”.

Mary is sitting next to Rowena, looking both angry at herself and relieved when she sees them.

“Hess?”

“She’s dead”.

“I expected that. What are you planning to do to me?”

Before anyone can answer, Rowena claps her hands twice.

“I bind you. I bind you from doing harm against others and harm against yourself.”

Mary flinches.

“I have made many mistakes when it came to my children, my dear. I hated the one I should have loved better, and I almost cost him his life again just a short time ago. This is a way – a start – to make amends. Your sons should not have the painful task to decide. You’ll never be able to raise a weapon against someone or something again, unless you have to defend yourself. Truly. Don’t stage anything in the hope of getting to hunt.”

“How am I supposed to survive – “

“That will be all” Rowena decides, standing up.

“If you ever...” She trails off. “I would be glad to hear from you, Crowley.”

Her son looks at her, then slowly nods.

She leaves the room.

Dean and Sam walk up to her.

“How could you let her leave?”

“How could you point a gun at my friends?” Dean asks simply.

Mary looks down on the floor.

He crutches so he can look into her eyes.

“The world is not as scary as you think it is, Mary. Not if you allow yourself to trust certain people. I am not saying we’ll take you with us now. Or forgive you just because. But if you ever want to apologize... If you ever want to see what the future can be like... our door is open”.

He stands up.

They leave her there.

Aaron and Matan have secured every single Man of Letter they could find; with those that Crowley took out, they have fifty-nine prisoners. More than they expected.

Crowley, as promised, flies them to the secure location before they return to the mansion.

Nothing but good news waits for them.

They have them. They have all of them.

Across the continent, monsters and hunters are celebrating. Together.

Dean, standing in the war room, finds himself laughing. He laughs and laughs until he can’t anymore.

Cas takes him in his arms.

“My love?”

“I’m good. Hell, I’m great”.

He looks at the faces around him.

The man he loves. The demon who turned good. The brother who returned to him. The scared man who became a rabbi and his golem. The Man of Letters who walked away.

“I think we have something to celebrate”.

And hand in hand with the love of his life, Dean Winchester walks into the future.

They are everywhere.

Monsters. Hunters. Sometimes working together, sometimes separate.

But all with one goal in mind.

America will be free again, and it will be the first country to have peace between humans and monsters. Once and for all.

In a way, they must be thankful to the Men of Letters. But they’ll leave it to historians and other cynics to eventually point it out.

Instead, they’ll fight and fight and fight until they have won.

And they do.

A new dawn beacons the next day.

One in which they don’t have to be afraid anymore.

They have won.

They have finally won.

They’re sitting in the library, exhausted and awake all at once.

Dean’s the first one to speak.

“You know what? We’re missing something here”.

He pulls his knife out of his pocket.

“Dean?” Cas asks.

In a few quick strokes, he carves DW into the table.

He holds the knife out to Sam and grins.

It will quickly become a tradition. Their initials, those of their family and friends, of those they have lost as well as those they have saved. Preserved forever.

Dean can’t sleep.

He still can’t believe it completely, but his lover is asleep next to him, holding him in his arms, the Men of Letters are locked away, hunters and monsters alike are safe.

He frees himself from Cas’ grip, smoothing his brow gently. He doesn’t want to wake him.

He just needs to breathe for a while.

He’s not surprised when he finds Crowley in the library.

He hands him a drink without comment.

“So” Dean says. “This is it”.

Crowley nods.

“Gotta say, I am thankful for your mother. Say what you want...” he trails off.

The demon looks at him.

“You didn’t have to do that” he finally says. “You didn’t have to jump in front of me.”

“Of course I did.”

“Don’t do it again” he suddenly hisses, his eyes turning red.

Dean is taken aback.

“Crowley – “

“I’m still a demon, and I am selfish enough to ask that. If she had – I couldn’t bear it, do you hear? I couldn’t bear it.”  

Dean understands.

“Alright. I promise never to throw myself in front of you when Mary tries to shoot you again.”

They both know how pointless that promise is.

After they have finished their drinks in silence, they get up and walk back to their rooms.

Crowley hesitates when they are standing in front of Dean’s and Cas’.

Then he draws him into a strong hug.

Dean reciprocates.

It’s not the end, of course. Men of Letters or no Men of Letters, the hunters, the monsters, the humans who stumble across the supernatural still need leaders.

It’s only natural they should take the job.

Dean likes to think they are acting the way Bobby would have.

It’s kind of weird, if he’s being honest. They are so famous in the community now that the name alone is enough to settle disputes, smooth insults, actually make a difference.

It’s amazing in the crazy, deadly way his whole life has been.

They become what Bobby once was. And they slowly, carefully work their way into Europe.

They’re thinking about laying the groundwork for letting the public know as well.

Water is constantly changing, but it always knows what it wants.

And she wants Mick Davies.

She knows what it will bring, how it will end. It makes no difference to her wishes.

Mick avoids Mel the days after their victors.

Dean understands.

It’s not easy, loving something that will always leave again only to return.

And unlike him, who dared dream about what might be when he was half-awake at dawn, Mick has no such hope.

Mel cannot become human. She is one with the water.

But what is better? Letting this chance pass him by or enjoying it as long as he can?

Mel’s not worried.

She tells him why one dreamy evening, dropping once again into their swimming pool to see them.

“What will be will be. What will save us will save us. Water is patient”.

“Mel...”

“Dean.”

She suddenly looks much older.

“I cannot always see the future. The picture... it fluctuates, it changes, it shifts.”

How can it not, the waves breaking at his feet?

“But... I know, Dean. I know. Our daughter will be the first wraith to enter British waters again. She will fill the void our people left behind so long ago.”

He swallows.

“You’ll have to leave him. Eventually.”

“Of course. Water always flows on. You can only keep it in one space for so long.” 

Claire knows which diners she can trust. Some have a certain... homely feel to them.

This is one of those.

She’s just ended another hunt with the help of a few of the local vamps, and she could really go for some pie.

Sue her, Dean’s right about that.

And then her waitress appears.

She recognizes her instantly.

Anyone who knows the Winchesters would.

Magdalene, her tag says. So she’s not lost all sense of humour.

“Hello, Mary” she says.

The woman looks up.

She seems tired. Worn down.

“Who are you?”

“I...” she stops. Thinks of Cas. Of Dean. Of where things are going.

“I could have been something like your granddaughter. Now you are nothing to me.”

Mary disappears into the kitchen.

Another woman brings her the pie.

She doesn’t mention their meeting to anyone.

He and Cas only continue to grow closer.

After years of hiding who he is, finally being comfortable and with the person he loves...

He can’t say what it means to him.

Luckily, he never has to. Cas understands him without any need for words.

And so, six months after they threw the Men of Letters out of their country once and for all, after they boarded the planes with tails between their legs, Dean buys a ring.

They can’t really officially get married, of course... even though... maybe... if he contacts their FBI friends...

He shakes his head.

First things first. 

It’s early in the morning. The whole gang, Aaron having arrived from Germany a week ago after finally getting rid of the Nazis with all the help they could provide, is in the kitchen. Cas is, as usual, grumpy, not yet completely awake.

He’s never looked more beautiful.

Dean sinks to his knees. Cas blinks a few times before he realizes what’s going on.

“Dean?”

“Cas. Will you marry me?”

Cas is silent for so long that his heart starts hammering heavily in his chest, but then Crowley calls out, “You know feathers if you don’t want I can...”

Cas draws him into a kiss and breathes “Yes” against his lips.

They marry three months later.

It’s... a bit of a bigger event than they thought it would be.

Apparently everyone they have ever met, and everyone who’s ever heard from them wants to be there.

Thank god for magical mansions.

Mel officiates from her bath tub.

Crowley and Sam are their best men.

He knows that everything he has done in his life has been warranted if it only lead him to this as he slips the ring of Cas’ finger.

A year after they marry, little Múth is born.

She looks like her mother, but has Mick’s eyes.

They have already talked things through.

Mick will raise her, Mel will watch over her. She’ll see plenty of her mother.

But Mick’s and Mel’s time is coming to an end.

They all know it.

“He will find someone else” she tells Dean, holding her daughter. “I know it. He will be happy. And we’ll always have the memories of what has been.”

On the day they call it quits, Dean goes to Mick’s room. It has been doubling as a nursery for nearly half a year now.

Even though there are tears in his eyes, he whispers “Thank you.”

It’s Lizzie Hexam who gives Cas and Dean the greatest gift they’ll ever receive.

She has just given birth to her second child, so of course they visit.

George Jr. is running around, chanting about his sister.

No potential rugaru has ever held out long enough to father a second child or a daughter. This is going to be interesting.

She watches Dean gently bounce Deanna up and down.

“We always wanted two children.”

“And look at you” he says. “Just as God intended.”

“I doubt Father had anything to do with it, Dean” Cas says. “She’s a miracle.”

He grins.

“Hell yeah she is.”

“What I meant” Lizzie says, “is that I’d be happy to be your surrogate, now that we have our kids.”

“You want to be our...” He stops talking when he realizes what she meant.

He looks at Cas. Cas looks at him.

Dean swallows.                   

“You... you...”

“Take your time” she says gently.

“I just said it would be a possibility. If you want to.”

That night in the mansion, Cas asks gently, “Dean? Do you want to?”

He could pretend he doesn’t know what he’s speaking of.

Instead he looks at his husband and gives the only answer he can.

Shortly after they learn that Lizzie is pregnant, Sam announces that he and Eileen are going to marry.

“Where do you plan on living?” Dean asks.

He wants to pretend he isn’t nervous, but he remembers Sam’s old dreams. A picket fence, suburbia. As far away from the supernatural as possible.

And Dean’s got an angel husband, a kid on the way and a demon anxious to be godparent even though he’d never admit it.

“Here, of course.”

It’s only when he realizes Sam is honestly confused that Dean learns how far his brother has come.

Robbie is born on Dean’s birthday.

“Guess we have more to celebrate, now” he mumbles, holding him for the first time, Cas’ arms wrapped around them both. “Lizzie – “

“If you dare thank me, you can leave right now” she huffs. “You gave me much more than I can ever repay you for.”

George is going through his sixth year as an almost rugaru, still getting better at dealing with it every single day.

Robbie is six years old. His sister Elisabeth just turned two.

Crowley is well aware of the passage of time. Múth is already showing signs of being able to control water.

The boys are over fifty, now.

He’s made his decision.

He’s sitting at the swimming pool.

“My King.”

“Mistress of the waves”.

“You’ll do it, then.”

Of course she knows.

He’s been contemplating it for a while, now.

There’s a place for him in this world. But if he wants to hold onto it...

 “Yes.”

“I was expecting it. Even though of course it was just one of multiple possible outcomes.”

“Ah, Mel, what might have been is never a good thing to dwell on.”

“No, it isn’t” she agrees but they share a long look before she vanishes.

The next day, he catches Robbie as he’s escaping Dean because he hates taking baths.

“No, now, Squirrel Junior, that is no way to behave.”

“Uncle Crowley!”

He smiles.

“Thanks, man” Dean says, catching up to them. “I swear he’s getting faster every day.”

“I bet. Dean, can we talk later?”

“Of course” he says, frowning.

There’s nothing to be worried about.

“Hey, what is it?” he asks that evening in the library.

They seem to have all their important talks here.

Crowley looks at the C he carved into the table years ago. The day of their victory.

“You’re all getting rather old.”

Dean huffs.

“Please, you’ve got what? Three hundred years on your back? More?”

“That’s not my point.”

“What is it, then?”

Crowley bites his lip.

“Cure me.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Cure me. I want to be human.”

“You’ll grow old” Dean says. “You’ll grow old, and die.”

“What makes you think I want to live longer than any of you? That I want to stand over your graves?”

Dean is silent.

Then, he slowly says, “If you are sure.”

“I am.”

A week later, he wakes up on his bed, human.

Dean’s leaning over him, checking his pulse.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes” he says as the door bursts open and the children come in, despite Cas trying to keep them back, “Yes, I am”.

It’s complicated and difficult and at first he feels like he’s suffocating, but it’s worth it.

Mel has always taken care not to cry. The tears of water spirits, water born from water, hold too much power. It’s dangerous to cry.

The day she leaves Mick Davies, she cries.

It is love. She knows it is. She loves him the only way she knows how, and she knows she has to leave.

And yet she cries.

She doesn’t cry when Múth leaves. Her daughter is fulfilling her destiny.

But – but –

She is aware there will be a day she’ll cry once more.

And on that day, every nature spirit in America, monsters and hunters will join her in her mourning.

Everyone will know who they lost that day.

But that day is a long time off yet.  

Many years later

The people call it Hunter’s holiday.

Castielle supposes it’s an easier name than it’s real title.

Holiday in remembrance of Dean, Sam, Castiel and Crowley Winchester.

September 13.

How well she knows their stories. She’s grown up with them, lived with them, dreamed about them.

And today, she’ll finally join the Guild.

The Hunter’s Guild has been an important association for over a hundred years now. She thinks her forefathers would be pleased.

Although, with her green eyes and brunette hair, she looks much more like Dean than Castiel in the old pictures.

Ironically, her twin brother, joining her and the Guild as well, is a spitting image of the angel who renounced his Grace.

Their little brother Sammy will probably grow as tall as his namesake though.

Not that he’d be the first one.

There have been countless Deans, Castiel, Sams, even Ferguses and Crowleys in their family.

As if the name Winchester weren’t enough to open any door, these days.

She looks around her room in the mansion.

Crazy? Magical? Unpredictable? The house is all of this and more. Hundreds of years later, and it’s still running on the magic Crowley pumped into it.

She couldn’t ask for a better home.

Mom and Dad are waiting in the marble entrance hall, smiling proudly.

“Cassie.”

Almost every Winchester who’s ever lived since their time has become a hunter – and every single president of the Guild since it’s been established has been a member of their family.

She’d lie if she said she’s not planning to fill that exact position one day.

She has since that terrible moment she believed she was dead, when she was five years old and fell into the lake.

Oh God, she can’t breathe, she’ll never see her younger brother, she’ll never play with Dean again, she’ll –

“Don’t be afraid, child.”

A pretty lady with green eyes and brunette hair is holding her in her arms.

“Long ago I made a vow that no member of your family would ever drown.”

She smiles.

“You look so much like your ancestor. All these dreams in your eyes. You will do well”. 

She brings her to the surface.

She knows now that this was Mel, the water wraith their stories talk about. The one who loved Mick Davies and bore him a daughter who saved the British waters.

“Hey!”

Dean hurries down the stairs.

“Sorry for being late, guys.”

She rolls her eyes.

“You’re always late”.

“Yeah, well... Hey, this thing is huge! Who says I didn’t lose myself?”

“No Winchester ever loses himself in the mansion” Mom tells him. “You know that. “

It’s true. They don’t know if it’s magic or just instinct. No one really knows how the mansion works. The only one who could have told them passed away centuries ago, human once more.

But that’s not important.

What’s important is that everyone is waiting for them at the library.

Now that they are finally twenty-one, are finally old enough.

Cassie’s best friend Charlie the ghoul joined the Guild two months ago. They’ve known each other since they were six years old and attending the (rather ironically named) Crowley Elementary.

She looks at Dean. Dean winks at her.

They enter the library followed by their parents.

It seems like everyone they know is here. Two more Winchesters are entering the Guild. It’s big news.

She tries to ignore the cameras. Every single TV station will show the highlights this evening, she’s well aware. Winchester news is everyone’s news since their ancestors went public – since they let people know what’s out there.

It took Europe some time to catch on, but these days, most countries are peaceful, accepting humans as well as monsters.

If those who took the first steps were alive today, they probably wouldn’t recognize the world.

Then on the other hand...

They haven’t made the knowledge public, but Cassie’s and Dean’s grandmother was psychic. She left them stories of visions of generations of Winchesters in Heaven, looking after their family.

Cassie hope they’re proud of them.

They advance towards the table.

The table.

There are so many of them now, the library is crowded.

But the table, the original table, is still reserved for family only, and the ones they come to call family.

Charlie carved her initials on the table.

Now it’s their turn.

Cassie and Dean take out their knives. No Winchester worth his money would ever leave their room without one.

Their slightly older cousins grin proudly at them.

And then it’s done.

Their initials are on the table, they are part of the Guild. Now and forever.

Right before they go to celebrate, Dad draws them to the side.

“Hey... Mom and I have been talking, and we’ve decided you should use the correct mode of transportation when you go out there.”

“What do you mean...”

He fishes a pair of keys out of his pocket.

Cassie just knows Dean’s mouth hanging wide open as she tries to stay calm.

The Impala. He’s giving them the keys to the Impala.

Rebuilt so often there’s little left of its original framework but a few lego pieces in the air vents, a toy soldier stuffed in the ash tray, and two initials carved by two small boys, so long ago.

“Can’t have you riding in an unworthy car, can we? Dean, Sam and Cas would never forgive us.”

Dad grins at them.

No. No they probably wouldn’t.

Still.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Castielle has grown up reading their journals. She knows the challenges they went through, the battles they fought.

But she never felt as close to them as when she starts the Impala a few days later, her brother at her side, Charlie in the backseat.

A new generation of Winchesters and their friends, off to save the world as they have done for centuries, ever since two boys and an angel prevented the Apocalypse.

As the Winchesters always will.