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****

“Lovers heard the stern aubade -- the watchman on the tower: ‘Up! Thou rascal, rise, I see the dawning light; the night doth fly.’”

Peter James Merrington; Zebra Crossings; Jacana; 2008.

******

The morning hadn’t quite dawned yet. It was still misty, the ground cover fog swirled around his feet as he ran, away from the homey lights of the bunker’s garage entrance. He ran out into the pre-dawn darkness, the fields cut winter-low, small patches of snow still remained under some of the scrubby trees at the side of the gravel road. He concentrated on his running rhythm, left-right-left-right—breathe-breathe—choo-choo-chugga-choo and so on until he had fallen into an almost hypnotic state. This was part of the ‘zen’ of running for him, that and the flood of endorphins, the controlled movement of breath through his body. All of it left up to him and nobody else.

He loved the emptiness of the world at this hour. No cars or trucks moving on this small road, no dog-walkers or kids hiking to the school bus stop. Just him, moving his body through the empty world, unfettered, free, and alone. 

Now he noticed the change in the light, the dawn was just breaking over the horizon. This was his signal to stop and at least pause to decide whether to keep running or turn back for home. He bent over at his waist, bracing himself on his quivering thighs, catching his breath in measured stages. He wished he’d brought a water bottle like he sometimes did. He glanced up just as the sun broke through, liquid light pouring over the line of darkness at the curve of the earth. Out here, under the big open sky you could see it all, from horizon to horizon, a sky full of stars, winking out one by one as they were replaced by the oncoming rush of sunlight. 

He turned on his heel and straightened up, ready for the run back towards home, with the sun on his back, pushing him forward. Running to catch up with his bobbing shadow was always a good morning’s worth of entertainment. But before he could take his first step, he paused at a flash of bright metal reflecting the light of the rising sun. He dug with his toe in the dirt, in virtually the same spot he turned almost every morning. Why was there something glittering under his feet? 

Sam scuffed at it with one toe of his sneaker, and gasped when he made contact. It was like touching a live house wire (which he unfortunately had experienced during his handyman days back in Kermit), his hair felt like it was all standing out and away from his body. His body felt like it was ten sizes too big, vibrating out in the shape of him several steps away from where his body stood. 

The last thing he thought was “Dean!” 

The last thing he saw was the world going white, then whiter than white, way past white, and then he saw nothing more. 

The last thing he heard was a single voice singing, a song without recognizable words, but he felt it more than heard it. The words became clearer, tuning in as a radio station does as you drive past. ‘A crown above and a crown below’ was the song that was greeting the dawn and then he heard no more.

The last thing he felt was the brass key to the front door of the bunker heating up in his pocket almost to the point where he felt he was being burned, and then he felt nothing else.

***

Dean turned over in his bed, looking for the warmth he always expected to find, but never did. Not anymore—anyway. Not since…no sense in starting the day off rehashing all of that for the zillionth time. He glanced at his alarm clock and was surprised to see 9:00 A.M. on the display. Sam never let him get away with sleeping in this late. He always made so much noise coming in from his morning run, taking a shower, and mooning around in the kitchen waiting for Dean to make what he called the good kind of coffee (as well as something for breakfast). He was up and out of his room in a worried rush, forgetting his slippers and wincing at the cold tile floor.

“Sam?” Dean called down the hall when he found the kitchen empty. Maybe his brother had gotten right back into research mode and skipped the kitchen? He stepped up into the library, and found it Sam-less. The bathroom maybe? 

“Sammy?” Dean called at the entrance to the showers, not wanting to sneak up on Sam as he’d been accused of recently. But no, no sign of him, all the showers were still dry, so he hadn’t come back yet from his morning run and showered. Sam was a creature of habit as far as that went, taking an immediate shower before he did anything else. Probably because Dean would always snark at him about getting his oh-so-manly sweat all over everything. 

When was the last time Sam had gone for this long of a morning run? Maybe he’d just gotten off to a really late start, they had been up pretty late last night finishing up the seventh season of Game of Thrones. The rewatch of the whole series before the final season debuted had been Dean’s idea, but it hadn’t been too tough to talk Sam into the hours that it had entailed. They had drunk a lot of beer last night while the final wall battle was happening. Dean smiled at the memory of Sam’s whooping as the white walkers had advanced and the dragons had flown. 

But neither of them had been that drunk, not hangover drunk at least, and it really hadn’t been all that late. Sam was so damn anal and regular about keeping to his running schedule, it was practically a religion for the kid, so he wouldn’t have skipped it, even if he had been tired or hungover. Dean decided he needed some coffee to get his brain fully on board and maybe some eggs too. Sam’s oft-repeated refrain of ‘you have to get some protein to wake up’ played on a loop as he made his solo breakfast. It was hard to only crack three eggs instead of the usual six, but he did it. Left-over scrambled eggs were just not appetizing no matter how you reheated them. At least Sam had finally gotten off of that egg-white omelette kick, that was even worse than reheated scrambled eggs. 

He dawdled over his coffee, reading his headline news on the tablet that Sam always left on the kitchen table. It had taken Dean a while to get used to reading everything on a screen instead of unfolding the newspapers over the table, but it really was easier. Less chance of knocking over your coffee cup too.

Finally, he felt he’d spent enough time procrastinating over breakfast, he cleaned up the kitchen and dressed for a winter’s walk outside, scarf, gloves, and hat. As he headed out, he realized that if Sam had hurt himself on his run, he’d need transportation, so he hopped in the Impala instead. After pulling out of their driveway, the gravel road that led in two directions from the bunker lay before him. He knew Sam usually ran to the right, towards the rising sun. He knew that Sam liked to see the dawn happening every morning. He’d mentioned it one time when they’d been wrapped up in bed, both finding excuses not to get up, to put off having to unwind from one another. Dean mentally chided himself to stop thinking about that stuff, it had been a long time ago, and according to what they’d both agreed when Mom came back, it was not ever happening again.

****

He’d driven back and forth on the gravel road several times now, first at a normal rate of speed, and then much more slowly, eyes barely leaving the roadside ditch. There was no sign of Sam though. He parked at a wide spot in the road, next to a mile marker that read: Mile Twelve. That meant he was about six miles from the bunker, and then there were six miles more from there back to the main paved road that led to town. He was pretty sure Sam wouldn’t have run much further than here, but he hadn’t kept up with the details of his brother’s training regimen lately. Not like he’d had to back when they were kids and he’d have to make regular reports to dad.

Dean checked his watch and saw he’d have just enough time to slowly walk from here to the bunker and back again to the Impala before it was full dark. It was late January, so it would be dusk well before six.

Dean was glad he’d dressed for a walk outside, the wind picked up as he scoured the roadside’s edge for clues, it cut right through his jeans and chilled his legs right down to the bone. Luckily his new jacket was lined and kept the rest of him warm. He imagined Sam out here in his sweats, running, drenched in sweat, and shivered at just the idea of how cold he would have been in the pre-dawn chill. “You better not be lying in a ditch somewhere, Sammy,” Dean grumbled to himself, picking up the pace a little. 

In one of the wider spots of the road, the shoulder went from gravel to dirt and he could see the tracks Sam had left, but they were only going in one direction, away from home. Sam always ran facing the oncoming direction of vehicles, even though it’d be impossible to miss the noise of a vehicle approaching on the gravel road. One of those safety habits that Dad had drilled into the both of them that still made some sense to keep adhering to, even though the man was gone. Dean crossed the road and wasn’t able to spot any Sam-prints headed back towards the bunker in the soft dirt.

So he’d gone out, and not turned back? Had he just kept going? Maybe Sam had lost track of time, got in the groove, and kept running further than usual. He could picture Sam limping back home, tired from accidentally running the distance of a marathon. Maybe he should have driven out further. Maybe Sam had really run past that twelve mile marker. He left it as an open possibility and kept on walking, keeping his eyes open for anything that could mark Sam’s returning passage to the bunker. There just wasn’t anything to see, no animal tracks, no broken shoelaces, no nothing. 

He wished that he’d gone through with that surgically implanted tracker that he’d always jokingly threatened Sam with, maybe both of them needed one at this point. It made him remember their conversation when he’d last brought the subject up.

“If it works for Mrs. Jones to be able to find her lost beloved Corgi, Snookums, then why wouldn’t it work for you?”

“Oh ho, ho, so that’s what I am to you, huh? Your beloved Snookums, Dean, really?” Sam had snarked, cracking himself up and laughing until there were a few tears in the corners of his eyes.

Dean had just sat across from him at the kitchen table, soaking it all in, the easy teasing, Sam’s beautiful laugh, how good it had felt to have all of that again. It had seemed almost possible in that moment that they could put themselves back together the rest of the way.

He shook his head at himself. There was absolutely no use dwelling on what-ifs and maybes, he needed to find Sam before any of that ever had a chance of coming close to happening.

Dean arrived back at the bunker, unlocked the door, and clanged down the metal staircase hoping to hear Sam greeting him. But there was nothing, no response, no sound, no one was home. Sam wasn’t in the main room, the kitchen, or in the shower. On the off-chance that Sam was sleeping or had his headphones on, he opened the door to Sam’s room. It was dark, and there didn’t seem to be anyone in the bed. He flipped the light switch on and saw Sam’s pajamas folded neatly on the foot of his bed, like he did every damn morning. His phone was plugged-in and charging on his nightstand, the light blinking green, his laptop closed and on top of his desk in the usual place. The current pair of boots he had been wearing were lined up together neatly in the closet, along with all the clothes Dean knew Sam currently had. 

So all of those little details meant that Sam hadn’t left. Dean felt himself recoil a little deep inside that he’d even considered it as an explanation. But there was always that chance, so he’d had to check. Because it had happened before—the Sam leaving unexpectedly and without notice—a few times. And even though Sam had been pretty damn clear lately that he was in this thing with Dean until the end, well…things and people changed. As evidenced by how they had changed. Splitting apart into their separate spaces by the whirlwind entrance of their mother’s return. 

Dean still regretted it, that huge decision they’d made. He thought he probably always would, no matter how great it had been to have this chance to get to know his mother as a grown-up, it still couldn’t ever be worth what they’d given up. There hadn’t been a way to go back on their decision though. He thought it had probably hurt Sam just as much as it hurt him, but there hadn’t been a way to bring it up that he could figure out, much less deal with the impact of the decision on both of them. They’d just muddled through it all and made the best of it. 

It had reminded him of those first years right after Sam came back, when they spent all their energy trying to deny what they felt for each other, frustrated and sniping day in day out, both of them knowing why, but not able to do anything about it. It had sucked then, and it sucked even more now knowing exactly what they were missing out on.

He missed Sam. Not just that he had gone missing today, which was bad enough, but on top of how much he missed Sam day to day, it was too much. It was all the little things, the small touches throughout the day and night, the way Sam would hold him when they watched tv together, or how he’d smile at him every morning from the other side of the bed, sleep-mussed and still so damn beautiful.  

He was tired from that six mile walk of worry, so he let himself stretch out on top of Sam’s neatly made bed. He let himself luxuriate in the scent of Sam’s pillow, the dent of his body in the hard mattress (he really needed to get Sam a memory foam of his own), and allowed his mind to drift. As he dozed, he dreamt that he called out to Sam over and over again, looking through every room in the bunker, calling all their contacts, driving to Lebanon and questioning the locals. 

When he awoke from the short nap, he was exhausted from all the dream work he’d done. He awoke knowing that none of that would actually help. He knew that he needed to get back out there on the road while it was still light. He needed to walk the six miles back to the Impala on the other side of the road, tracing Sam’s tracks to where they had last taken him. Hopefully back to his brother.

~~~

Dusk was falling all around him now, a silent curtain being drawn across the last of the day’s light. He stood next to the twelve mile marker and looked out at the barren fields, as the bits of snow left underneath the trees began to glow with the moon’s rising light.

“Sammy, wherever you are, I wish I knew you were okay,” Dean said into the quiet turning of dusk. He felt the heaviness of loss weighing him down and tore his eyes away from the dimming horizon, peering down at his feet, dejected in his failure. 

There was something there, right by his foot, a familiar color that stirred a bare hope in his heart. It was something the exact shade of Sam’s hair. He bent down to touch it and gasped at the feeling of familiar softness in the messily braided bundle. Dean picked it up and brought it up to his nose, instantly smelling Sam’s expensive sandalwood shampoo. He worried over the dried blood on the ends of the strands, this had been yanked out of Sam’s head with a lot of force.

As he straightened up, he noticed something that glinted gold and shiny with the last bit of the sun’s light. He stubbed at it with the toe of his boot. 

He felt a shockwave pass through the earth all around him, coming up to the surface with a roar that sounded like a herd of buffalo stampeding towards him. 

The smell of Sam’s hair instantly faded but was replaced by the familiar scent of his brother, not just his hair, all of him. Sam was right there, well he was almost there, shimmering in place, the twelve mile marker sign disappearing as his body slowly became more and more solid. 

A white light seemed to roar up all around the two of them, the volume increasing exponentially, terrifying and everywhere and everything. They reached out to one another and barely brushed fingers, the touch of their skin igniting something that shook the whole earth around them. Like an earthquake happening inside of a car, localized, buffered from the rest of the world by the tires that absorb the shaking force. 

The next thing Dean knew he was in the Impala. No—strike that—they were in the Impala, side by side like usual. The Mile Twelve marker glowed outside, next to the car shining with the last light in the quickening darkness.

“Dean?” Sam asked, sounding just as surprised as Dean felt.

“Sammy, where in the hell were you? Where were we? What in the fucking fuck was that?” Dean sputtered.

Sam looked even more surprised at the force of Dean’s questions. “I don’t really know anything, okay? I was running this morning, same as usual. At my turnaround spot there was something shiny in the ground, it caught the morning light and I noticed it. I didn’t touch it, just scuffed at it with my shoe and then blam-mo. I was—I don’t even know where I went. I was gone until just now.”

“You weren’t here though. I looked all over the road, everywhere, I’ve been walking it all day between here and home. And then I found this lock of your hair, all matted-up and braided. I picked it up and underneath it was something shiny. I must have touched it, then everything shook and boom we’re here,” Dean said. 

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the tangled lock of Sam’s hair he’d found and showed it to him, the ends glistening with dried, red blood. “This was the hair I found, but it’s all bound up together, almost like it was braided.”

“So what the hell was it, the shiny thing? Did you see it?” Sam asked, feeling around on his head for a missing clump of hair, he gasped in pain when he found it. “There’s a patch of my hair missing, from underneath, really stings, like it was ripped out.”

“Dunno what’s going on, but we’re gonna find out. Something’s messing with us, and more importantly messing with your hair—not cool.” Dean threw the hair onto the seat between them and Sam snatched it up, holding the lock of hair up in the dim light.

Dean started up the Impala, and began the short drive back towards the bunker through the dark night.

“Stop! Dean, stop the car!” Sam screamed in a sudden panic, and grabbed at Dean’s leg that was pressing on the accelerator.

Dean slammed on the brakes and turned to see why Sam was panicking. But his brother wasn’t really there, he was shimmering at the edges, going transparent in the center, not like a ghost, but something otherworldly.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, the sound trailing off to nothing as he disappeared.

“Shit!” Dean shouted at the empty space that used to hold his brother. The phantom touch of Sam’s hand on his leg where he’d just been grabbing him seemed to pulse with his own quickening heartbeat. He quickly reversed the Impala and stopped in the general area of where he’d touched the metal thing in the ground and found that lock of Sam’s hair. The metal thing had to have caused this, this was the place where all of this disappearing shit had gone down, three times now. That and Sam’s hair getting torn out by the roots—definitely not cool.

He grabbed a flashlight out of the glovebox and got out of the car, approaching the spot where he’d seen the shiny thing in the ground. It was still there, shining merrily in the beam of his flashlight. He grabbed a stick from the nearby ditch and scratched at the dirt and gravel that covered it. Nothing exciting happened, no disappearing or reappearing, just nothing. He uncovered the edges of the object and from what he could initially see, it seemed to be a rounded surface like a metal basketball. When he looked at it more closely, he could see markings that looked like hair on the top of someone’s head. He was going to have to dig this whole fucking thing up.

Luckily there was a shovel, and a pair of his favorite leather grave-digging gloves in the Impala’s trunk. “Bless the giant capacity of my Baby’s trunk,” he thought as he pulled them out. Sam said that he’d been toeing the gravel around the shiny thing, just like Dean had been, so he had to be careful not to touch the thing. He marked a rough circle around it, and cleared away the top level of loose gravel. The packed earth underneath was wet and heavy. A week ago it would have been frozen solid, so at least there was an upside here. He got into the rhythm of digging and made quick progress at unearthing the first foot or so. It was a statue of a woman, the metal on the top looked like it was meant to be a crown. She had a beautiful, serene face, whoever she was. When he finally reached the bottom of the pedestal, about four feet down, he could see that there was a layer of something metal underneath. 

As he looked at her face, the words ‘A crown above and a crown below’ sang through his mind, in a musical form he couldn’t quite name. Was it part of a song he’d once known?

He wasn’t sure where that thought had come from, but it seemed to be something important. Dean wondered if Sam would know where it was from, or if he’d ever get the chance to ask him. That thought made him dig more earnestly.

The tow rope from the Impala’s trunk was tied around the waist of the statue, and he slowly accelerated, watching in the rear view as the thing emerged from the ground. When it was finally all the way out, he shut off the car. This next part was going to be the hardest, because he couldn’t just leave the statue on the side of the road. If some civilian touched it, he’d never forgive himself. And he needed to fill back in the hole before one of their neighbors ended up stuck in it. 

Dean used the shovel to lever the statue upright, successfully managing to keep his hands away. But just as he thought it was steady, it began to tip back towards the pit. On blind instinct, he reached out to stop it, instantly regretting his quick reflexes as his palm landed on the golden crown.

Dean gasped when he made that first contact. It felt like touching a live battery jumper cable (which he unfortunately had experienced too many times when first learning about cars), even under his hat, his hair felt like it was all standing straight out, almost like it was trying to get away from his body. And oh God, his body felt like it was expanding, zooming up to an enormous size, there was a pulsing vibration in the shape of him several steps away from where his body stood. 

The last thing he thought was “Sam!” 

The last thing he saw was the world going white, then whiter than white, way past white, and then he saw nothing more. 

The last thing he heard was a single voice singing, a song without recognizable words, but he felt it as a song of greeting the dawn, the words became clearer ‘A crown above and a crown below’ and then he heard no more.

The last thing he felt was the brass key to the front door of the bunker heating up in his pocket almost to the point where he felt he was being burned, and then he felt nothing else.

***

You have come.

I have?

As your anima genimae has before you.

My what now?

Your soulmate.

Sam?

Yes.

Is he here?

No, he is in the world while you are here.

Who are you?

I am Mater Matuta, the Roman goddess of the dawn.

Was that a statue of you that I just dug up?

Yes.

Why was it buried near our home?

You are a Man of Letters, as is Sam, and you do not know this?

He’s looked into the details more than I have.

Why are you here, Dean?

How do you know my name?

I have been watching you.

Creepy much, what do you want from me?

Just what I am due.

Could you be a bit more specific?

It is time for you to return.

****

“Dean?” 

Dean could feel how cold he was, his whole body ached from it, but the familiar sound of his brother’s voice made everything right again. He opened his eyes to see Sam’s worried face hovering above him. He reached up to touch Sam’s cheek, just to make sure he was real. The weight of Sam pressing into his touch woke him up the rest of the way, that and the fond and relieved look on his brother’s face.

“I didn’t know where you were,” Sam said. “I looked everywhere between here and the bunker. It didn’t make sense, because the car was out here on the road.”

Dean sat up and looked around, instant relief flooding through his body to see his baby still parked by the roadside. The statue…was gone.

“Where’s the statue?” Dean asked, head swiveling to check his surroundings.

“What statue?” Sam asked, his face scrunching up in confusion.

“The one I spent hours digging up. It’s what the shiny thing was that we both touched. It was a carved marble statue of the roman goddess, Mater Matuta,” Dean said in a rush, trying to get the words out before he forgot what he was trying to say. It was something about who he had been talking to, wherever that had been. He felt an overwhelming need to figure this out right now. It was burning up into smoke in his mind, all the details disappearing as he struggled to hold onto the words.

Sam’s face scrunched up even further into almost worried territory. “Whoa, what, who? How do you know all this?”

“I talked to her, I was just talking to her. That’s where I was. After I dug up the statue I touched it, and this electric shock thing happened. There was this weird singing, I could feel the key to the bunker was burning me, and then boom. I was somewhere else, and she was there. She said she was watching us, she knew our names, that we’re soulmates, and about the Men of Letters too. I asked her what she wanted and she said: what she was due.”

“Wow, okay, that’s a lot to chew on,” Sam said. His voice said he believed Dean which was a huge relief, but he still looked very confused.

“How about you, where were you?” Dean asked, relieved to have gotten his point across, but now worried about where Sam was if he wasn’t with Her.

“I…I’m not sure, I heard the singing too, and the key was definitely burning me. I think I might have met her as well, but she didn’t speak to me. It was someone—no something else that I talked to. Whatever he was, he was the one who took my hair,” Sam said, touching the back of his head with a wince.

“Yeah, I’d like to meet that one too. Who was it?” Dean growled, wanting to off the fucker for messing with Sam’s hair.

“I’m not really sure, didn’t get a name, but I think he was some kind of Fae. He said he was in conflict with Her, that he took my hair to start a battle and that he had to win. It was about right of passage through our land.”

“What is this, are we in the middle of a celestial land war or something?” Dean asked.

“Maybe, something like that,” Sam said.

The first hint of dawn began to strike the horizon.

“I think it has something to do with the time of day, dawn and dusk,” Dean said, clicking off his flashlight as the light around them steadily increased.

Sam began to shimmer, going in and out of transparency like a tv station being tuned in. “I touched the statue around dawn,” Sam said, his words more solid than he was now.

“Don’t go, Sammy, c’mon stay,” Dean said, knowing it sounded like begging, but it was exactly that, and it was just them, so he really didn’t care.

“I can’t stay, it doesn’t feel possible. See you at dusk—I hope,” Sam said, his form disappearing before his words were gone from the air between them.

“Yeah, guess I’ll see you then,” Dean said, his heart dropping as his eyes accepted Sam’s disappearance.  

If they were only seeing each other at dawn and dusk, and only out at the twelve mile marker, that was going to make for some long-ass lonely days and nights. Dean yawned, he felt sleepy because he guessed that he hadn’t really slept at all last night. He’d just been gone from the world and talking to Mater Matuta in that other place, wherever the hell that was. He climbed into the Impala and flipped a u-turn to head back to the bunker. 

His initial plan was to get the bare minimum of sleep, he had learned over the years that for him, that was four hours, and then to eat something and get to researching. If he could get that started, then he could pass the baton to Sam at dusk.

This was going to suck, but until they figured it out they were stuck. He settled down in bed and had a hard time getting to sleep at first. His mind was whirling with the possible dangers of being stuck between an ancient goddess and some Fae creature as they battled for the land rights. The thing was, Dean knew that he and Sam didn’t care about the place or the land, not like the supernatural creatures battling over it probably did. Sure, it was nice to have the bunker, to have finally gotten to have the chance to have a home. But it still didn’t truly feel like theirs, or like they were responsible for it, or meant to fight for it. Now that he and Sam had proven to themselves that they could stay in one place, it made it better somehow to Dean, that they knew it was possible. They’d find another home if they had to, if it meant they stayed safe, and together, Dean whispered to himself as he finally drifted off to sleep. 

He dreamt of Sam (of course, who else) walking through a dawn-lit paradise, side by side with Mater Matuta, gesturing with his hands as he talked with her. She smiled up at him, entranced with whatever he was saying, or maybe just with him. He couldn’t blame her, Sam was really something when he was completely engaged with a subject. Dean dreamt of all the times in the Impala, driving through the back roads of their country, not minding the miles passing by as Sam expounded on his newest obsession. Listening to his brother, passionate and interested in something, not necessarily hunting related, it could be anything really, just hearing Sam talk when he was excited about something, was one of his favorite things in the whole world. And now, separated as they were, he wasn’t going to get his regular doses of that, he had to dream it up for now. 

That made him feel extra determined and motivated when he awoke four hours later to his phone beeping with the alarm he’d set. He took a quick shower and then started up a batch of chili, there had to be something easy for Sam to eat when it was his turn in the bunker, otherwise he wouldn’t bother. Sam wouldn’t feed himself when there was research to be done, and Dean wasn’t going to be there to bug him about it. He wrote out a note and left it folded on the table next to the coffeemaker. He knew that Sam would at least make coffee for himself.

Sam - Made you the chili you’re always bugging me for, it’s in the fridge. Don’t forget to eat before you start researching or whatever. I’ll see you in the morning, ~ D

Once the chili was underway, Dean hit the bunker library hard for all the information about the building of the place. There were detailed records of the research the Men of Letters had done back then, searching out the exact spot to build, excruciating detailed documentation covering how they purchased the land, and then consecrated and dedicated it to the function and purpose of this hub of operations. It turned out that there had been a lot of thought put into the choice of Mater Matuta to be called upon to guard the easternmost border of the bunker’s land.

At least he’d have something to show Sam later.

He drove out to the twelve mile marker a little before dusk, and pulled off the road, shutting the Impala off. He sat in the car, hoping that Sam was actually going to show. They were just guessing after all, that they were taking turns in this thing and that they’d keep showing up in the same spot. Now that it was almost full dusk, he got out of the car to scan the area, he wasn’t sure exactly where Sam would appear. He stared at the horizon, watching the very last bits of sunshine disappear and felt the air change all around him, like it was charged with all he knew and had ever felt about Sam. He closed his eyes and said Sam’s name out loud, like the prayer that it was.

As the feeling in the air around him changed, his eyes flew open. “Sam, is that you?” He asked the air that was filled with his brother, even though he couldn’t see him, he could feel that he was there. He shivered when something touched him on the back of the neck. He felt the touch solidify, until it was the exact weight of Sam’s hand, he spun around and grabbed Sam into a rush of a hug.

“What’s this for?” Sam spluttered in surprise.

“I’m…just glad that it’s you, that you’re back,” Dean said, feeling himself flush in embarrassment. It wasn’t like he’d ever really voice out loud the fact that he’d ever doubted Sam would return. 

Sam hugged him back then, and tucked his face down into the spot where it always ended up, always just so, his face turned into the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean shivered again as his brother’s lips moved against his skin. “I’ll always come back, you know that.”

“I do—I do know that,” Dean said in a rush, patting Sam twice on the back to let him know the hug was over.

Sam didn’t let him go though, his hands were still lingering, holding Dean around the waist, his thumbs skimming over the waistband of his jeans. “She told me that my anima genimae was even more beautiful in her realm, that your beauty made her want to keep you there. I told her she was right, but she couldn’t have you.”

Dean blinked in surprise and was glad that the dusk would cover up how fiercely he was blushing. “What’d she say to that?” he finally managed to ask.

“She said that she knew better than to come between soulmates,” Sam said.

“Guess she’s a smart chick, at least for a goddess,” Dean said, not saying anything about how good it felt being called beautiful by a goddess and being claimed by his brother. 

“What did you end up doing today while I was gone?” Sam asked.

“I went home, got a little sleep, researched the building of the bunker, made some chili, and called Mom and Cas to let them know what was happening.”

“What’d Cas say?” Sam asked.

“He wasn’t surprised, but he didn’t think we were in danger. He and Jack are busy with the shapeshifters in Georgia. Mom’s joining them, so they’re all going to be gone for a little while.”

“I’m glad she’s helping them, Jack will learn hunting skills from her that he hasn’t picked up from us.”

“He’s getting pretty good though,” Dean said.

“Yeah, now that he’s got some of his powers back, I feel a little better about him going out there on hunts,” Sam said.

“You know, you’re doing pretty damn good at this whole raising a nephilim thing,” Dean said.

Sam smiled at the compliment and then his hand landed on Dean’s shoulder, a comforting and warm, familiar weight. “We are, we’re learning how to do it together,” Sam said.

Dean smiled and enjoyed the feeling of his brother reconnecting physically, it took so little these days, they were both starved for it. “Wonder how long this is going to take?” Dean asked, relieved to finally come up with a way to change the subject from their misadventures in parenting. He turned to look up at Sam’s face, realizing exactly how much he’d missed seeing it all day.

“What?” Sam asked with a shrug, removing his hand now that they were onto another topic he wasn’t sure about yet.

Dean realized he hadn’t been very specific, that could have been about a whole lot of things. “Figuring out how to get back to normal,” Dean said.

“So you miss me already, huh?” Sam asked, grinning that teasing little-brother grin that Dean loved.

“Yeah—I mean, it’s weird, not having you around, knowing you’re just gone to some nowhere place for some amount of time. And then knowing I’m going to be gone, it’s just all fucking weird. How the hell are we gonna do this, Sam?”

“We’ll figure it out. Like we always do, Dean.” 

Dean looked up into Sam’s earnest face and soaked it all in. All the trust and belief that Sam seemed to have an unending supply for everyone else in the world. “I know we will,” Dean agreed, because what else could he say besides the truth? 

The sun might as well have risen again in that moment, bright and shining as Sam’s answering smile was. Dean flashed on how much he missed tasting it, feeling it against his own lips. He licked his lips without thinking and was happy to see Sam’s eyes follow the movement. He watched as Sam’s eyes darkened. Now wasn’t the time for that though, they both needed to concentrate on getting out of this.

“Hey…um, I brought you something,” Dean said, stepping away and opening up the Impala’s back door. He pulled out their old green cooler and opened it up. Sam stepped closer to see what was inside.

“You brought me beer?” Sam asked with one raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, I thought we could have a cold one together, while we wait to see how long I stick around,” Dean said, as he popped the tops off of both bottles.

Sam accepted one of the bottles and clinked it against Dean’s. “To seeing how long the dusk lasts.”

“Wonder if I’ll get to finish this beer or not?” Dean asked, drinking at least a third of the beer down in one go, just in case.

Sam hopped up onto his usual spot on the Impala’s front hood and leaned back against the windshield. He drank his beer and didn’t say anything until Dean had joined him.

“We can count the stars as they come out until then, I guess,” Sam offered.

That’s what they did then, muttering the numbers back and forth to each other as the stars each winked into existence one by one above them.

“You used to love doing that when you were little, before you’d learned all the constellations and stuff. It was good counting practice,” Dean said, once they’d gotten up past one hundred. He kept his eyes trained up on the sky, he couldn’t look at Sam when he said things like this about their childhood.

Sam didn’t say anything at first, he just worked a hand under Dean’s and twined their fingers together. Time stretched and spun on, the carpet of stars above them growing brighter with each moment. 

Dean heard Sam sigh like his heart was breaking, so he looked over.

“What’s that sigh for?” Dean asked, squeezing Sam’s hand a bit to get him to meet his eyes.

Sam searched his face for an uncomfortably long time, like he was trying to decide what the right answer might be, or what he could actually say out loud. “Just thinking of what you did for me back then.”

“Sammy—“ Dean started to say, and then the fade began, it took away his ability to speak first, he could still feel Sam’s warm hand in his, could feel his ass cold on the hood of the Impala, the beer bottle in between his legs. And then he felt nothing but the light pulling him away.

***

“Dean!” Sam yelled in surprise as Dean disappeared before him. He caught his brother’s abandoned beer bottle just as it was about to tip over and roll off the hood of the car. His hand still tingled with the feeling of Dean’s warm skin.

“What were you going to say?” Sam asked the empty night air. There wasn’t an answer, because Dean was gone, just as they’d guessed would happen. He finished off both of their beers, looked up at the night sky now filled with stars from horizon to horizon and tried to imagine what Dean’s answer would have been. Probably something self-deprecating about what a shitty job he’d done raising Sam, but maybe it would have been about them and how they were now. Together…but not together. 

He groaned at himself going there again. He knew it was pointless, Dean had made it pretty damn clear. There couldn’t be anything between them, not with their Mom around. It wasn’t fair to either of them, but Sam had accepted his brother’s decision without a lot of discussion. He hadn’t wanted to make it come down to forcing Dean to choose between them or her. That wouldn’t have been right, not for any of them. But he still missed him, missed them, and that was never going to change, no matter what happened. 

Sam rolled off the Impala’s hood and stowed the beer bottles and cooler back behind the driver’s seat. He got in and started her up, letting her familiar rumble soak into his bones. He flipped a u-turn and headed back to the bunker, letting her rip on down the road, pushing her to the limit, suddenly hit with the urgency of spending his time wisely, working out how to get them back to normal.

Sam served himself a big bowl of his brother’s chili and then sat down to read Dean’s research he’d left for him at his favorite library table. He wished Dean were here so he could make all the usual food appreciation noises. This was damn fine chili, he’d really figured out how to cook over the years they’d been living here. If Dean were here he’d tell him that just to watch him blush and stammer. It made Sam realize that since he couldn’t do that in the moment, he had to replace it somehow. Maybe it would help if he wrote it down. He grabbed up the research notes Dean had left and wrote down what he would have said out loud.

Dean, this chili, it is damn fine, and just what I needed right now. I’m sitting here alone, wishing I could tell you that. I know you’d probably get embarrassed at the compliment, but it’s true. And I’m just really impressed and grateful that you’ve figured out how to cook so well, you keep me fed, with good food that I really enjoy and I appreciate it. I know I never say it enough, but thank you. ~ Sam

After he finished reading Dean’s research on the bunker’s founding, he made a few notes for Dean, but couldn’t think of anything else to pursue on that topic. Sam pulled the braided lock of hair out of his pocket and set it on the table in front of him. This was what he was going to concentrate on. He gently probed the bare patch on the back of his head, it was still tender to the touch, but it seemed to be better than yesterday.

Sam first googled ‘braided hair supernatural’ and got a lot of things about elves. That was a place to start, he pulled out all the books he could find about elves and other Fae. He searched through them all for anything about creatures who took human hair. Pretty soon, he’d figured out that it was called an elf-lock or fairy-lock. That meant the culprit was likely a fae creature of some sort, and from what he could tell there were a few possible reasons it had yanked his hair out.

Elflocks were either completely benign, the knots the fairies left in sleeping children’s hair, or if intentionally braided like his had been, the beginnings of some sort of spell.

It had to have something to do with the disappearing/reappearing thing at dawn, right? He couldn’t find anything to connect those two things, but the fae creatures did seem to care a lot about the land they inhabited, and whose it was or how it was used. Maybe there really was a dispute between Mater Matuta and the Fae.

He found himself nodding off over the books, and reluctantly let himself do his nightly routine, a shower before bed, setting his alarm for an hour before dawn. He had to be out there with the car, otherwise Dean would have to walk back to the bunker in the dark and he’d never hear the end of it. Plus he wanted to see him, for all of the little time that they had together.

***

The next morning when Dean rejoined the world at dawn, Sam was there, waiting with a thermos of coffee, bless him. They sat in the Impala with the engine running and the heater on, drank the strong brew and strategized about who was researching what next. Neither of them brought up how much was left unsaid yesterday, as Dean had abruptly disappeared from the world for half the day.

Soon, he was back in the bunker, and he was exhausted even with the coffee. Dean went to sleep in Sam’s bed again, but all he could smell was himself. He’d been the last one to sleep there, the first day Sam had gone missing, which meant Sam hadn’t been sleeping since. It made him sad all over again, so he went back to his room, hoping that some Netflix would distract him enough to go sleep. The instant his head hit his pillow he could smell Sam all over it. It was even still a little damp from his brother’s usual night time shower. They’d argued about that so many times, why couldn’t he put a towel down at least? Instead he pressed his face into the pillow and breathed in deeply. Even though he’d just left Sam out there on the road, he still missed him. He just wished they could curl up together and go to sleep. That’d make it so much better.

When he woke up, he realized they were almost out of fresh food now, and Cas, Jack, and Mom were going to be out hunting for at least a few more days. He whipped up a leftovers casserole, using up everything left in the fridge. He sat at the table and read Sam’s note about his chili several times, the words warming him inside as much as the food.

He decided to leave Sam a note by the coffeemaker again.

Sam - Made a refrigerator casserole, so our larder is now bare except for the emergency cans of beans. But I’m heading out soon to resupply. Thanks for the coffee this morning, and your note yesterday, both of them made me feel warm inside. Yeah, yeah, I know, cheesy as hell, but that’s me and it’s the truth ~ D

Instead of researching the founding of the bunker any further, he decided it was more important to see if he could actually go to the grocery store. He drove out, in the usual easterly direction, along the road Sam jogged, and accelerated as he came up on the twelve mile marker. As he passed it, there was a sudden blast of light, and he knew no more. 

Dean found himself waking up in the Impala, stuck at the mile twelve marker just as Sam appeared at the falling of dusk. He’d lost a day, and he hadn’t gotten the damn groceries. They were well and truly stuck.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“I tried to go get us some groceries, cause we’re outta food, and I didn’t make it past the statue,” Dean said.

"Apparently we can’t leave the bunker’s consecrated land while we’re under this curse or whatever it is. I didn’t even think to try that last night,” Sam said.

“Well, now we know. I feel like shit though, like I got hit and knocked out with a wall of light.”

“Good thing the car wasn’t still running, or left on the road.”

“We’re lucky there isn’t a whole lot of traffic out here.”

“I can try driving in the other directions,” Sam offered.

“No, you better not, and save the gas. With all of them out in Georgia still, we’re going to need it, just to be able to get here and back twice a day.”

“How are we going to get food?” Sam asked.

“I’ll call those teenagers that we met in town, one of ‘em works at the grocery store. I’ll have them meet me here,” Dean said.

“Guess we’re too far out in the sticks for Post-mates or pizza delivery.”

“Yeah, that’s never been much of an option for we country-folk, right? Besides, we don’t want anyone to get too interested in figuring out exactly where we live. Those kids already know way more than they should.”

“Aren’t they going to wonder more about it, if you’re meeting up on the side of the road like this?” Sam asked.

“I’ll bring the cooler and tell them we’re going camping or something,” Dean said.

“That might just work.”

“We’ll see, the important thing is to keep us fed, right?”

“Yeah, you’re doing pretty damn good with that so far,” Sam said.

“Don’t get too excited, I made a refrigerator casserole, so at least there’s that for tonight. But I didn’t get any researching done,” Dean said.

“You’re awesome at this stuff,” Sam said.

“I’m not feeling so awesome at anything at the moment,” Dean said.

“No, I mean figuring out the practical stuff to keep us going. I’m off in research-la-la-land when I get into something, and I didn’t even think of it,” Sam said.

“Force of long habit, I guess,” Dean said.

“You’ve been doing it your whole life, haven’t you? I know you don’t like it when I thank you for stuff like this. But thank you, Dean.” Sam grabbed Dean into a hug that felt like a lifetime worth of thank you’s. It was glorious, and Dean didn’t want it to ever end. He hugged Sam back, hoping it said: ‘you’re welcome’ and ‘I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat’ but then it was his time to fade. Off he went into nothing, the phantom feeling of Sam in his arms, breathing into his skin the last thing that seemed real.

****

Sam felt his arms go empty as Dean faded into the night. It wasn’t fair, and he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. Saying hello and goodbye and trying to work all this out, much less work out all the baggage between them. It was exhausting and he just wanted Dean there, at his side. But that was too much to ask of the universe apparently.

After the six mile drive through the lonely night, Sam got back to the bunker and was surprised to find a white cat curled up, sleeping soundly on their doorstep. It lazily stretched and stood up when he unlocked the door. It slipped through before he could stop it. 

The cat became an instant fixture of his life in this dusk to dawn, Dean-less life. It was there on the doorstep waiting for him the next night, and the night after. Sam couldn’t resist, he needed the company, even if it was just some random white cat. It gave him someone to talk to during the long nights alone at the bunker. He quickly got into the habit of letting it in, feeding it some of whatever Dean had left him for dinner, and even slept with it most nights on Dean’s bed. It was a comfort to have another being around to curl up with and talk to, even if it was just a cat. 

He kept on with the research over those first few days and figured out that the fae creature who stole his hair was something called a lutin, a sort of hobgoblin of the home or land. It was likely imported from Quebec by a settler that had moved down to Kansas for the warmer, more hospitable weather. Through all this research the white cat became a welcome presence in the bunker, it became his research buddy. 

The cat seemed to be completely obsessed with Sam’s hair, it spent most nights pawing at it and sleeping in it, right up against Sam’s head. Or sitting on the library table next to him, rubbing its face in his hair as he bent over the book he was reading. Sam didn’t make any connection between the cat’s appearance and the research, he was too starved for companionship. And a cat was just a cat, he had other things to worry about.

On his third night alone in the bunker, Sam called Rowena to ask if she had any advice about the dawn/dusk thing or the lutin. She was amazed to hear that they had managed to get stuck in something like their current unfortunate situation, but she had no suggestions on how to get out of it. She did call back later when he was in the shower, with a tip about the lutin though. He listened to the message on speaker, with the white cat curled up on his pillow. 

“Samuel, I have some news about your little lutin friend. According to my readings in the Gospel of the Witches, you need to call on Artemis or Diana for help. Long ago, Diana had battled the lutin when he’d tricked a fairy princess and invaded an island of women guarded by amazons called the Island of Quiet Pleasures where she lived. He’s her sworn enemy and I’m certain she’d help you. I’m sure you’d have loved living there, eh, Samuel? Ta for now, good luck.”

The cat leaped up from the bed and streaked out of the room like its hair was on fire. Sam figured he was off on a mouse hunt, wished him success, and set his alarm for the usual pre-dawn hour so he could make the drive out to mile marker twelve. As he fell asleep, he remembered that he still had one of Diana’s arrows. He’d saved it from when they’d tried to save Prometheus and his son from Zeus. That night he dreamed of that arrow on the dashboard of the Impala as they’d driven home that night. How it had felt to realize that they’d finally had a home to drive to, together.

The next evening, he did a ritual, to summon Diana, and when she appeared, he offered her the arrow.

Diana was at first very pleased to see Sam, and to have her arrow returned. “I thank you, Samuel. It will be nice to return this to my quiver.”

“I’ve called on you because I’m having an issue with a lutin, and I heard you might know how to deal with one.”

“Long ago, I used to reside on the Island of Quiet Pleasures and because of what he’d done there, the lutin was now my sworn enemy. I vowed to destroy him if we ever crossed paths again.”

“I think this one moved with settlers coming down from Quebec,” Sam said,  realizing just why Rowena suggested he call on Diana.

“Is he the one who plagues you?” Diana asked.

“I believe so, yes,” Sam said. He fumbled for the plait of his own hair and held it out to her. “He stole this hair from me.”

“He is appearing to you as a white cat, correct?” Diana asked.

“I…uh, I guess so. I hadn’t realized that was him, just thought he was a stray,” Sam said. He cringed at having allowed the thing to sleep on the bed with him every night.

“I do not imagine you would have called me here solely for this,” Diana said, gesturing towards the plait of hair.

“No, uh, there’s a fight going on between the lutin and a goddess you may know, Mater Matuta.”

“Please allow me to guess, she has entrapped you and your brother, dawn to dusk, am I correct?”

“Yes, that’s it, and we also can’t leave the area around this building,” Sam said.

“We warned her that it might come to this,” Diana said, shaking her head and frowning.

“We?” Sam asked.

“She wanted to make the jump to this new country, in search of new followers, new devotees, more worship, all of the things a neglected goddess longs for,” Diana said.

“The Men of Letters promised her all of that, in return for protecting this place, and then they all were murdered,” Sam said.

“Yes, but not quite all are deceased, there remains you and your anima genimae, your brother, no?”

Sam tried not to react to having the soulmate thing thrown out at him by yet another deity. He really should get used to that at some point and probably soon. It still felt like such deeply intimate and personal information, it was hard to get over that it was so obvious to all the deities they ever encountered. “And so she expects us to do what exactly?” 

“Make all the sacrifices and obeisances she is still due from your people,” Diana replied.

“According to the records my brother dug up, she was expecting the yearly sacrifice of a fatted calf, and hours of monthly prayers over her statue. It’s been more than sixty years, so how the hell do we begin to make up something like that?”

“I do not see what Hel has to do with the matter, She likely has her own concerns in the Underworld,” Diana sniffed.

“Sorry, just a human expression, nothing to do with Hel. Tell me about making up the sacrifices and prayers, how do we do it? Can we try sacrificing one calf and praying, see if that’s enough to satisfy her?”

“I am not certain Mater will accept that, she will no doubt demand the cumulative deficit be presented,” Diana said. “She has always been known as a ‘stickler’ as you would call it.”

“We truly didn’t know, we kind of ended up in this place by accident or chance, we weren’t trained or initiated,” Sam said, knowing in his heart that this wasn’t going to come down to what they knew, but who they were.

“Are you not descendants of this group?” Diana asked.

Sam nodded. “Yes, our grandfather was being initiated into the group the night they were all murdered. We think his father was a Man of Letters also.”

“Then you are part of them, you must bear their debts, that is how this works,” Diana said.

“Yes, we know that we’re legacies, but for most of our lives we’ve mostly just been hunters. We’ve never been initiated into the organization officially,” Sam said.

“Yes, I do remember this about you. In the brief encounter we shared when my father as well as my lover died, I recognized the difference between you and your grandfather.”

“So, can we use that somehow to make our case to Mater Matuta? Would you help me explain it to her?” Sam asked.

“I will be happy to attempt it, although, I do not think it will do much good in changing her mind. However, if we are able to appease or destroy the lutin as well, it may work to satisfy her as she seems to be expending her energy in battling the thing.”

“How do we deal with the lutin? What do you think he wants? All I know is, he hangs out here as a white cat and is obsessed with my hair.”

“I can see why,” Diana said, eyeing Sam’s hair with an undisguised and very covetous glance.

Sam ran his hand through his hair, unconsciously making sure it was all still there. What was it with deities and his hair anyway?

“Is he here right now, Sam?” Diana asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got him locked up in my room, because I thought he was just a cat and I didn’t want him interrupting when I contacted you,” Sam said.

“You summoned me, Sam, that is quite a bit different,” Diana corrected, her face turning stern and dark at the reminder.

“I didn’t know any other way to get a chance to talk to you, I’m sorry,” Sam said.

“Remember the difference between an invitation and a demand, that is important. I accept your apology and will now view this visit as an invitation extended by you that I chose to accept. Now show me to this cat.”

Sam nodded in thanks, not able to come up with anything coherent. He led Diana down the hall and briefly hoped that his room was tidy enough for a goddess to see. The door was still closed, and he could see movement through the grating at the bottom, the cat (no the lutin) was pacing. Diana silently drew a hunting knife out of a sheath on her calf and nodded for him to open the door. A streak of white hurtled through the opening but she was faster, grabbing the creature around its middle and hoisting it up into the air. The cat writhed and slashed, hissing loud and frantic. 

“We meet again, my old foe,” Diana said with a grin.

The cat transformed into the lutin, Sam recognized him from the first time he’d seen Mater Matuta in the other realm. His red hat with the two feathers was barely staying on his head as Diana shook him roughly.

“Stop! Please, Diana!” the lutin cried.

“Why should I you, rough beast, after what you did on the Isle?” Diana shouted.

“I didn’t mean it, really I didn’t, it was an accident I swear it,” the lutin said in a rush. 

Sam could see that he was terrified, his small features were drawn up into a worried crumple.

Diana lowered him to the ground, he gained his footing and stood as tall as he was able to, which was only just under three feet high. He readjusted his roughly woven clothing and set his red woolen hat more firmly on his head. The lutin glared up at Diana with a  challenge in his eyes.

“You owe me,” Diana said. “The Isle was never the same after you invaded our solitude. There was a very good reason no men were allowed. You broke the sacred compact and all of our art and science was taken.”

“You know that I did it for love. The princess and I were very happy, for a very long time.”

“That did not give you the right to invade and demolish our sacred solitude ,” Diana said.

“Have you never done something for love that wasn’t yours by right, Diana?” the lutin challenged, his hands on his hips and his chin raised in defiance.

Diana’s eyes flashed with pain. Sam imagined she was remembering firing the arrow that killed both her lover, Prometheus as well as her father, Zeus. It had been a horrible thing to witness, he couldn’t imagine how it had felt to make the choice to do something so drastic.

“I have, but then I have borne the consequences. You however, fled the lands where you would have been held to account, like the gutless knave that you are,” Diana growled down at him.

The lutin cringed at her words and then stood tall once again. “It is true, I did flee, and if it will make you happy to know, I continue my fruitless search for lands where I can settle.”

“It does make me happy that you are rootless and still wander. But it doesn’t bring me joy to know that you are intruding on my friend’s life here.” Diana looked over at Sam expectantly.

Sam felt a little pride bloom in his chest at being called Diana’s friend. He focused on the issues at hand and spoke to the lutin. “I don’t like it that you ripped my hair out. And I don’t want you here bothering Mater Matuta. We have our own issues with her. You need to move on, this isn’t the place for you, we don’t want you here, you’re not welcome here,” Sam said.

“Sam, your hair…I am sorry if it pained you, but it is—how to explain, it is irresistible,” the lutin said with a shrug.

Sam scowled at the lutin and then at Diana when she burst out laughing.

“Sam, what he says, it is true, you have the hair of a god, I’m sure you don’t realize its worth.”

“Well, you can take the elflock that you made and just go, how about that?” Sam asked holding out the plait of his hair to the creature.

“I can do that,” the lutin said with a small bow, taking the bundle of hair from Sam.

“No,” Diana said. “He cannot.” Her knife laid upon the lutin’s hand holding Sam’s hair. “If he holds your hair, Sam, he will always have a claim to you.”

The lutin moved, feinting left then right, but Diana was faster, he was stuck through with her knife, and dead in the next moment. The plait of Sam’s hair was still clenched in his little fist. Diana leaned down and snagged it, tossing it to Sam. “My advice is to keep track of your hair from here on out. Let’s take his body to visit Mater, you lead the way.” 

Sam checked his watch, while she scooped up the lutin’s body, there was still some time left before dawn. He didn’t want to have to hand over this situation to Dean because he didn’t know how he would handle it. He hadn’t even told Dean about summoning Diana, not wanting to get his hopes up. He was seeing now that choice might have been a mistake. 

He led Diana to the garage and opened the trunk of the Impala, laying out one of their old blankets. Diana placed the lutin’s body on the blanket and wrapped him up neatly. Sam shut the trunk lid and opened the passenger door for her. It just seemed like the right way to show deference to a goddess. She slid into the seat with an approving smile. 

Sam drove them quickly to the spot where this had all started, the engine growled and strained when he mashed on the accelerator, the twelve mile marker was soon glowing in the headlights. Sam stopped on the edge of the road and turned to Diana to see what to do first. She was grinning from ear to ear with a slightly manic twinkle to her eye.

“I like this vehicle very much!” Diana proclaimed with charming enthusiasm.

“I’ll be sure to let my brother know,” Sam said with a smile. “Do we have to dig her statue up again, or can you just call her somehow?”

“No digging will be required, we will lay the body down and she will come,” Diana said.

They did just that, and in a roar of light and no sound, Mater Matuta appeared, for once in their realm, she seemed very insubstantial at first in the darkness, all the light from the car’s headlights seemed to coalesce around her, giving her a vague solidity. “Who calls me into the darkness?”

“Greetings, Mater Matuta, it is I, Diana. I come to visit you, and honor you with a gift,” Diana said, pointing at the body of the lutin on the snowy ground.

“Is that the creature? Why it is—thank you, Diana,” Mater Matuta said.

“You are welcome, he will trouble you no more. The reason he is dead is my friend Sam asked me to come here and help. I would ask that you release he and his brother from the hold of the dawn.”

“I cannot, they have not made the sacrifice,” she said.

“What sacrifice is required?” Diana asked.

“Because of your help with the lutin, Diana, I will now only require one human life to be sacrificed instead of two. Just one offered freely, without reservation, to make up for the years of neglect and abandonment.”

“These men truly did not know of their obligations, and all of the others in the group you made treaty with were murdered sixty years ago,” Diana argued.

“It is of no matter to me, who has or has not died, what these men knew or did not, what is due, is still due. They have benefitted from my protection whether they acknowledge that or not,” Mater Matuta said.

“Can the sacrifice be a calf or several calves?” Sam asked.

“No, Sam, an animal’s life is no longer adequate to pay the debt. That would be an adequate substitute if it had been given as agreed, yearly and with the proper prayers.”

“We thank you for your halving of the debt,” Diana said with a small bow. Sam bowed also, just in case that was expected of him.

Mater Matuta nodded to her, and turned to Sam. “I expect the life to be given to me no later than the date of my festival.” Before he could respond, she disappeared in a whoosh of light that seemed to be sucked into a pinpoint and then released in a nearly soundless sigh to the beams of the Impala’s headlights.

“I am sorry, Sam,” Diana said.

“Is there anything else we can do?” Sam asked, desperate with the weight of what he’d just learned they owed.

“No, that is the problem with invoking the deities of old for any reason, they hold true to the old ways. Your Men of Letters have left you and your brother with a terrible legacy to uphold.”

“Thank you for coming and helping, Diana. I am very grateful,” Sam said, bowing his head.

Diana ran her hand through his hair and sighed with true regret. “If only you were not another’s. It has been a pleasure being summoned, but next time, just ask.” She disappeared, leaving behind the arrow Sam had tried to return to her. He picked it up and held it in the darkness and thought about how to tell his brother the bad news. A glance at his watch told him he had a minute or two to get his story straight.

Sam sat in the Impala with the motor running, the heater on, trying to get some feeling back in his cold hands. Diana’s arrow was on the dashboard, gleaming in the light of the instrument panel. Dean solidified in the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Dean said, gesturing at the dashboard. “Nice arrow.”

“Yeah—uh, it’s the one I got from Diana, again.”

“Again?”

“She came, well, I uh—summoned her, Rowena gave me a tip that she might be enemies with the lutin.”

“The fae dude that stole your hair?”

“Yeah, we tried to reason with him, get him to move on, but he wouldn’t give my hair back. So she killed him when he tried to run.”

“Good,” Dean said.

“That was the good news, we talked to Mater Matuta, gave her the lutin as an appeasement, but it wasn’t enough, it only got us halfway.”

“Halfway to getting out of this dusk to dawn situation?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, according to Diana, Mater Matuta is basically an ancient hard-ass. She had wanted two human lives sacrificed, but now she’s only asking for one human life to be sacrificed, no—willingly given, by her festival date, which is the eleventh of June.”

“Oh, only just the one life, that’s just peachy,” Dean snarled.

“I know, it’s not what I’d hoped for,” Sam said. “In other news, Diana really loved having a ride in the Impala last night.”

“You’re giving joyrides to goddesses in my baby while I’m gone, huh?” Dean teased.

“Pretty much, all the time, yeah,” Sam teased right back.

Dean growled, and then laughed when Sam did. It felt good to share a laugh after such dark news, but both of them knew the laughter couldn’t last.

“And that cat, the one you’ve been complaining about leaving hair everywhere?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, like all over my pillow, had me sneezing all morning,” Dean said.

“That was the lutin, so that won’t keep happening,” Sam said.

“You can still sleep in there…you know, on my bed. I know it’s more comfortable than yours.”

“That’s not why I was—uh, okay, thanks,” Sam said, feeling his heart beat faster at being called out about sleeping in his brother’s bed.

“I tried sleeping in yours the first few times, but then I noticed mine smelled like you.”

“You didn’t say anything,” Sam said.

“I didn’t want to make you stop,” Dean said. “If it helps you, then keep doing it. I like smelling you when I’m sleeping there. It helps me actually get some sleep.”

“It does?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, smells more like home or something,” Dean said, knowing that probably was admitting way too much at this point, but it was true and maybe Sam needed to know stuff like that.

“How much longer do you think we have until I fade?” Sam asked.

“I looked it up, I’d say we’ve got just under an hour more to go,” Dean said.

“What do you mean you looked it up?” Sam asked.

“I wanted to know how much time we had together, so I checked a website where you plug in your location and depending on the latitude, it gives you the time of the twilight period. By the way it’s getting shorter as we get closer to the spring equinox on March twenty.”

“I love when you talk nerdy to me,” Sam said with a lascivious grin.

Dean deepened his voice into the growl he knew Sam found most sexy. “There are three stages of twilight, civil, nautical, and astronomical. Each stage is around twenty-four minutes depending on how close to the equator you are.”

“Ooh, keep going,” Sam said, holding back a giggle.

“If we were up in the polar regions, we’d have hours and hours together at each twilight.”

“Oh if only, and we could cuddle up with the polar bears and penguins too.”

“No penguins up in the North pole, Sammy, c’mon you know that, it’s like saying Jesus rode dinosaurs.” 

“I’m so glad I got you turned on to watching nature documentaries instead of just soap operas.”

“Hmph, I’ll give you turned on. Ahem…after the equinox, the time at twilight will start increasing steadily until it reaches its peak on the solstice, on June 21.”

“Ten days after the sacrifice is due,” Sam said.

“Thanks for the reminder, it’s not like I forgot or something,” Dean said.

“I know, but it made me wonder if something will happen on or after the solstice if we don’t come up with a sacrifice for her. We don’t know if this dusk to dawn thing just keeps going or if it just ends. Or maybe we just don’t come back.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Dean said into the weighty silence. “We’ve got time.”

“Three hours a day, that’s all the time we get together,” Sam said.

“Well, if you think about, out of twenty-four hours a day, three hours is kind of a lot,” Dean said, obviously trying to look on the bright side. “More than most brothers get.”

“One and a half hours at a time though,” Sam pointed out.

“Hey, a lot can happen in three hours, even in one and a half hour increments. I know you know that,” Dean said, waggling his eyebrows. 

Sam laughed at Dean’s antics because he was right and it sure as hell was better than crying about the alternative.

“It’s a whole lot better than nothing, right?” Dean asked, voice trailing off to almost nothing as he no doubt remembered the times they’d both had to go through that. The my brother is dead or gone or missing or at college or whatever. He’s not here by my side where he’s supposed to be.

Sam nodded, surprised at his enthusiastic agreement. “That’s for damn sure. Back when we were traveling on the road, we’d have killed for this kind of a set-up, even back when…you know, we were together.”

“Hah, true very true, but it’s not just the time, it’s the location that’s messing me up. I swear that’s the weirdest part of all this,” Dean said.

“Yeah, we can only see each other out here at the twelve mile marker, right by her statue. Like she wants to eavesdrop or some creepy shit like that. Honestly the whole damn thing is just weird. I can’t get used to it,” Sam said.

“Well don’t, because like I said, we’re gonna figure this out,” Dean said, so firm and decisive like he was trying to convince himself too.

“I think what’s different though, from back when we were on the road, is that it isn’t our choice to only have this time together. That’s why it’s not working for us, it wasn’t something we chose,” Sam said.

“There’s a lot that’s not working for us,” Dean said.

“Like having the choice of either continuing living dusk to dawn or making a human sacrifice?” Sam said.

“That and some of the other personal choices we’ve made recently,” Dean said.

Sam didn’t say anything, because at first he couldn’t. They’d blocked it off from all discussion for so long now, and Dean was just casually throwing it out there. “Personal choices, you mean…us?”

Dean nodded and drew Sam into his arms, they twined themselves together and stopped talking, there wasn’t anything more to say. Sam felt better about things, having gotten to talk to Dean about it all. But the weight of the choice before them was hard to bear, even with his help. He concentrated on the weight of Dean’s arms around him instead, of how perfect and right it felt, how much it meant to have him there. Even if it was out here at mile marker twelve and for an hour and a half at time.

“I’m fading,” Sam whispered when he began to feel the pull of the dawn.

“Until we meet again,” Dean said, brushing their lips together at the last moment that Sam was still there.

Sam faded into the now-familiar nothingness with the thrill of feeling the lips he’d missed for too long. It was almost enough to hold him there against the power of the dawn’s arrival. Until it wasn’t.

***

Illustrations of Dawn and Dusk times that you might find inspiring:

DAWN:

DUSK:

****

After Dean had woken up from his morning sleep session, he heard the rattling and banging that meant someone was coming down the main staircase into the bunker. For a long, dumb moment his heart leapt up with joy, Sam was back home. Then of course, he heard Cas and Jack talking, and their Mom calling his name. He rolled out of bed and pulled on a new set of clothes. He looked at himself in the mirror as he shaved and decided he wasn’t up for telling them all the whole truth, not yet. Not until he’d talked it over with Sam. He had to tell them the rest though.

“Okay, sounds like we’ve got some researching to do guys,” Mary said, after Dean had finished his tale.

“Why is there animal fur in here?” Jack asked. He was sitting in the chair Sam usually occupied at the research table. Sure enough there was a coating of white cat hair on the table around all the books and papers.

“Sam had a cat, well it was the lutin actually in disguise, but since he’s dead and gone, no more cat hair.”

They all got to work on the research into the bunker and its founding. Dean took a break to make a lasagna with the supplies they’d brought back. And once it was in the oven, he brought everyone some beer.

“What are we drinking to?”

“Nothing, I’m just glad you guys are home,” Dean said, realizing in that moment how hard it had been, being in the bunker alone, especially with all the worry and weirdness.

“I found something that might explain the whole land war thing,” Mary said. “So according to this report they sent back to the home office in England, when they first began a building project, they knew they had to control what kinds of supernatural beings were around. Out here in Kansas, that meant the lutin who they were worried might have had some backup resources as well as other supernatural creatures who already lived here or who’d moved in with settlers.”

Mary plopped a big binder of loose-leaf reports and opened one up that had a triple size piece of paper folded, she opened it up all the way.  “See here’s the map I was telling you about.” They all gathered around and looked at a map of the area around the bunker.

“They had a method they’d used and it had worked in Europe, so they did it over here too. I’ll read the description to you,” Mary said, pulling the folder back over to herself while they looked at the map.

“The North American Men of Letters have utilized our tested method for sanctifying the land for protection. All four corners have been locked with buried statues from some of the approved European traditions and the rites and agreements have been made with the deities for each of the four directions. A statue for the goddess of the dawn was buried in the easternmost position, where she will faithfully do her duty every morning, greeting the dawn and protecting the land.” Mary looked up at Dean, her eyes assessing as she watched her son take on the information.

“Those absolute fucknuts,” Dean said, slamming his beer bottle down on the table. 

“What is a fucknut, Dean?” Jack asked, with that guileless confusion that still reminded Dean of way back when Cas had been similarly clueless.

“That’s why the lutin went after Sam’s hair, he thought he could win his way back into the land. The elflocks thing, the braided hair I told you about that the lutin stole off of Sam’s head. It was all about having power over him, so that he’d…I’d don’t know, let him into the land again? Go against the deities guarding it?”

“You really were in the middle of a land war,” Mary said.

“You should know better than to get into a land war with a Sicilian.” Cas quoted.

Dean saw Jack make the confused puppy face that meant a derailing question was coming. “It’s from a movie, Jack, and very funny, yeah, Cas, I suppose Mater Matuta is Sicilian adjacent,” Dean said.

“So is that what this marking means on the map?” Jack asked, tracing a circle around the spot in the middle where the bunker stood. “Is that a six mile radius of protection around the bunker from the spells and statues buried at the four directions?” 

Instead of answering Jack, Cas brought up something else instead. “Looking at this map, I can see something else that is interesting, it’s what I think you call the ley lines.”

“Yeah, they’re like power lines, but not electrical, in the earth or something, right?” Dean asked, not sure why this would matter.

“Yes, that is close enough, and according to this map, the Men of Letters chose this place for a reason. We are sitting not only in the geographical center of the United States, but it also worth noting that the bunker has been sited at the confluence of many powerful ley lines. See, they come in here, six directions, here, here, and here,” Cas said, pointing at places around the marked location of the bunker. “These ancient lines of power that move through the earth converge here and only here.”

“How does that change anything, knowing about the ley lines?” Dean asked, frustrated with what seemed like something way out in left field.

“According to the records I was reading, the Men of Letters had intended this facility to become functionally eternal over the years, through the power of the deities they’d invoked in its founding as well as siting it at this spot of power. Where the ley lines cross. Their calculations had envisioned the power accumulating in the bunker to increase in a logarithmic scale that would become so immense that it would be impenetrable by the year two-thousand,” Cas said, looking at them like they’d all understand.

Mary and Dean looked at each other and shrugged. 

“Oh, I see, it’s not just the power of the crossing ley lines, it’s the deities interacting with that power for all of these years,” Jack said very matter-of-factly.

“I would imagine that confluence of power was likely what made the keys burn both of you as you passed into her realm, as they are connected to the magic that protects this place. Coming into contact with the deities would likely overload them,” Cas said.

“This power that we’re talking about, is it a good thing or something we should be worried about?” Mary asked.

Jack and Cas looked at each other and shrugged.

“I can feel it, but I don’t know if it’s ‘good’ or not. I mean…this place feels very different to me than anywhere else I’ve been. I thought it was because it was home,” Jack said.

Dean was struck with an intense wish that Sam had been there with them to hear Jack say that. 

“I…uh, that’s awesome, kid,” Dean said, conscious of how gruff his voice sounded. No one but Mary seemed to notice him clearing his throat or dabbing at his eyes. She smiled across the table at him.

“I have always felt the power of this place. At first, I thought it had to do with the angel warding because I had to fight against that. I have never taken the time to investigate the source,” Cas said.

“That’s okay, we didn’t need to know until just, oh like a week ago,” Dean snarked.

“Dean, he’s trying to help,” Mary scolded.

“I know, I know you all are, but it’s frustrating. Sam is just gone half the day, and then I am—sorry, it’s all just messed up.” Dean stood up from the table and stalked off to the kitchen to check on his lasagna. He thought he’d pack some of it up while it was warm for them to eat in the car while they talked at dusk. Dean threw together a quick salad and brought that too, and a few beers. It all fit nicely in their old green cooler, it would be easier to talk to Sam about this stuff, they were trying to help, he knew they were, but they weren’t going through it like he and Sam were. He left without saying anything to the rest of them, feeling embarrassed at his outburst. Dean figured the lasagna would make up for him not being there.

He parked at the twelve mile marker and waited for Sam to reappear. 

“Oh my god, that smells amazing!” Sam cried as he faded back into view to solidity.

Dean grinned and pulled out the container of lasagna and handed Sam a plate and fork. Sam served himself a giant corner piece and took a huge bite, moaning around his fork. “Oh hell, this is the best thing,” Sam moaned.

“Well, if it’s giving you so much joy, I’d better have some,” Dean said, still grinning he served himself and had to agree, he knew how to make an awesome lasagna.

“I take it we’ve been resupplied?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, they all showed up, back from Georgia with a trunkful of the groceries I asked for.  I texted Mom a list, so it’s not just all frozen food.”

“She does get in a rut with that,” Sam said.

“Well, cooking’s not for everyone, dude,” Dean said. “I spent a lot of years wishing for a kitchen, and now that I’ve finally got one, well you know.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do know, Dean, since I’ve been lucky enough to be the main beneficiary. You’re a hell of a cook. Don’t listen to me if I ever say anything different, you hear?”

Dean just smiled and ate his lasagna. Sam served himself seconds, and then literally clapped his hands when Dean produced the green salad. 

“I don’t know what to eat first!” 

“If it’s salad, I’m gonna see if I can get a ride on the dusk train early tonight,” Dean joked.

Sam looked up at him sharply. “You wouldn’t,” he said.

“I was kidding, haven’t had my beer yet,” Dean said, he reached into the cooler and brought out the two beers. He popped the caps on both and handed one to Sam.

“To having our Scooby gang back together,” Dean said.

“They being helpful or bugging you?” Sam asked.

“Mostly helpful, hell it was nice not to be alone in the bunker for a while, you know? At least you had the damn cat,” Dean said.

“Who turned out to be the lutin, but yeah okay, whatever. How are they bugging you?”

“It’s dumb, we figured out some stuff about how the bunker was built, it’s on the spot where all these ley lines cross. It’s supposed to have been built to accumulate power. Cas was going on about how he’d always felt it but never bothered to investigate…and I…”

“Blew up at him, because he didn’t anticipate our needing to know about this a week ago. Dean, you have to cut him a break sometimes,” Sam said.

“You sound just like Mom,” Dean grumped, swallowing a third of his beer instead of saying more.

“Okay, so what else?” Sam asked.

“When we were talking about it, Jack said something, and I wished so hard you could have been there to hear him say it, but you weren’t there,” Dean said, wishing he could smile about it, get across what he meant without having to say it out loud.

“I wish I was too, I want to see everyone, to be with everyone together again, it’s not the same when you’re not there too,” Sam said. “Can you remember what Jack said?”

“It was something like, ‘I can feel it, but I don’t know if it’s good or not. I mean…this place feels very different to me than anywhere else I’ve been. I thought it was just because it was ‘home,'” Dean said, watching Sam’s face to see his reaction to his relaying of Jack’s words.

Sam smiled, and then grimaced, ducked his head and messed with his hair. Maybe dabbed at his eyes, Dean wasn’t exactly sure.

“He really is something,” Sam said in a voice that gave away how much it had affected him.

“So we also figured out that there’s three other deities protecting the bunker’s land, it was a Men of Letters protection thing,” Dean said. 

“Any idea who, yet?” Sam asked through a mouthful of salad.

“The Scooby gang is working on it, or eating the rest of the lasagna,” Dean said.

“Let me guess, were they each placed at the four directions, six miles from the bunker?” Sam asked.

Dean thought about the map Mom had spread out on the table.

“Yeah, this place is at the twelve mile marker on the road and it counts the mileage from the paved road. We know the bunker is six miles from that,” Dean answered. “So, this is six miles east exactly.”

“Where I disappeared from the first time, right here,” Sam said pointing out the window at the twelve mile marker, “this was at the outermost edge of the protection as well as the furthest east.”

“So that’ll make the other statues pretty easy to find,” Dean said, finally understanding what Sam was talking about.

“Hope they’re on roads so we don’t have to bushwhack through the weeds, or into the cornfields,” Sam said.

“Wonder what they’ll be wanting, since we’ve neglected them also,” Dean said. 

"Hopefully they’re not pain in the asses like you know who over here,” Dean pointed out the window to where he’d dug up Mater Matuta’s statue all those days ago.

“It depends on what they were promised by the Men of Letters way back when, hopefully there’s some records on that in the files,” Sam said.

“Does the idea of the bunker being built to accumulate power surprise you at all?” Dean asked, realizing that he wanted Sam’s opinion on this since he hadn’t been there when they’d figured it out.

“No, not really, we knew it was heavily fortified against all kinds of supernatural stuff. But we’ve never had a lot of down time to think a lot about the place we’ve been living. Now that I think about it, it makes a lot of sense. And it makes me wonder if we need to get that plan back on track so that it becomes an even safer place like it was supposed to,” Sam said.

“It’s been a lot of years of neglect, it’s going to be hard to make up, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah, more than sixty, and who knows what the other three deities have been expecting all this time.”

“We still haven’t figured out how to pay Mater Matuta what she wants,“ Dean said.

“We just need to ask the deities to stick around, and promise they’ll get what they have coming to them. We might have to get Jack and Cas to promise to keep up the tributes since they’ll be living a whole lot longer than we will. Maybe the gods and goddesses would believe an angel and a nephilim’s word over that of two mortal human brothers who have a tendency to die a lot.”

Dean noticed Sam still wasn’t talking about the human sacrifice thing. “And here we’ve never figured out why the power and water stays on even though we don’t pay a bill. Now we gotta pay off random deities all over the place,” Dean complained.

“You know this means we’re going to have to dig up three more statues, after we research what the gods or goddesses might expect as a make-up tribute. And then figure out how to actually follow through on paying. But at least we’ll have hot showers and electricity to do it by, right?” Sam asked with a grin.

****

Sam found the information about the first statue that had been buried, it had been in the North direction. He didn’t recognize the deity’s name at first, so he had to do a little googling: Ullr (Auler, Holler, Oller, Ollerus, Uller, Ullerus, Ullr, Wuldor) Norse God of the Aesir, of justice and winter. ‘In Lilla Ullevi, Sweden, an actual shrine to Ullr was unearthed. In the earth around it were found 65 rings; old references to swearing on Ullr's ring indicate that he was one of the Gods who watched over a vow. The rings were apparently used for swearing oaths and then buried at his shrine.’  

Sam called up the new guy who’d taken over the pawnshop in town and asked if he had any men’s rings and if they could be engraved by tomorrow. Luckily he was still there after closing time, he was still working on getting his stock rearranged. He promised Sam there were two rings that’d be perfect, and he’d get the words engraved first thing tomorrow. Sam’s next call was to the plant nursery two towns over, they’d been in there a few times to buy herb plants, sometimes spells required fresh plant material. He left a message asking if they had yew trees in stock. After his quick research, he thought that offering trees as well as sworn oaths would make Ullr more amenable to their requests.

Mary and Jack came back from town the next evening with two large yew saplings, both with many strong branches and green needles bound up in the back of Cas’ truck.

“Sam, we got you the yew trees. Do you want me to put them in the Impala or should we leave them in the truck?” Jack asked.

“Thanks, Jack, that’s good, just leave them there. I’m sure Dean wouldn’t be into a big mess of dirt and needles in the Impala. Can you stick a shovel and a pair of gloves in there for me? They’re with the gardening stuff in the garage.”

“I’m pretty sure I know where they are, no problem,” Jack said with a grin, striding away down the hall. He was always so much happier to have something concrete and useful to do. It was kind of exhausting really. Sam briefly wondered if he’d been like that when Dean had had to deal with him.

Mary came in from the kitchen with a worried look on her face. She held a blue box from the pawn shop. “Picked up the rings you ordered,” she said, voice flat and strange.

“Is there something wrong, Mom?” Sam asked.

“The whole thing is just weird, my boys making vows over engraved rings, to a Norse god,” Mary said.

“Well, it’s not like we’re making wedding vows or anything,” Sam said, hoping like hell that his disappointment wasn’t showing that they weren’t doing exactly that.

Mary made a face at him that said he probably hadn’t been successful at hiding it completely from her.

“I know you need to do this, Sam. I get it, but I hate that it’s going to tie you together for the rest of your lives.”

Sam struggled with not rolling his eyes at her, she knew their story, she’d read all the damn books even, how did she not know this about them yet? 

“It has to be a big, life-long vow, Mom, otherwise it won’t work. Cas said we shouldn’t even bother.”

“Well, I hope it’s worth it, never being able to go out and be your own person, live your own life. I guess I just hate that’s what you have to sacrifice,” Mary said.

“Getting our lives back to the same plane of existence is definitely worth it. Neither of us can live our own lives like this anyway, not with only half a day, and not being stuck within the six mile perimeter.” Sam thought about the other sacrifices they’d both made over the years, didn’t she count those as important either?

“Yeah, I know, this has been really hard on you both, I can see it,” Mary said.

“That’s why we’re doing it, that, and so the bunker can still reach its potential.”

“I’m glad you’re planning for the future like this, Sam.”

“It’s kind of what I do,” Sam said, wishing Dean were here to back him up with a joke to break the tension. Instead, Mary left, mumbling something about heating up the dinner she’d brought back from town so Sam could eat something.

Early the next morning well before dawn, Sam drove the truck to the northern-most edge of the bunker’s land, traveling up one of the side roads they occasionally drove on when they were heading that way. They usually took this route when they were heading to Chicago. There was a twelve mile marker out here too, he’d never noticed that. He pulled over and parked. By the light of the truck’s headlights, he consulted his map and began digging. He quickly planted the two yew trees and started in on digging where the god’s statue should be. 

Sam dug as carefully as possible, making sure not to touch the statue with any part of his body or even the shovel. He didn’t want to summon the god here on his own before dawn had broken. He was trying to time it so that Dean would arrive just before the god would. He wasn’t sure how long the vowing and ring-burying and everything would take. As he dug, Sam sang the song that he’d learned by heart now, the words flowing from him, “A crown above and a crown below.”

The god’s statue was almost unearthed just as the dawn began to peek into the sky.

“We’re doing this today, huh?” Dean asked from above, not commenting on his singing.

Sam looked up from the pit he’d dug around the statue. His brother shone in the residual light from being with the goddess of the dawn for twelve hours. It wasn’t fair how goddamn beautiful it made him. He scowled at Dean pretending that he’d forgotten what a big day today was, and said, “Yeah, I’ve got the digging just about done.”

“Nice job not touching the statue, in my experience that’s real hard to do,” Dean said, reaching down to give Sam a hand up out of the pit. They both made grunting noises getting Sam up onto the same level.  Sam dug in his pocket and handed Dean one of the engraved silver rings.

Dean held it up to catch the light of the dawn, it glinted and sparkled. ‘I Promise’ was engraved on the outside in manly blockish letters. Inside the ring was his name and the date in a flowing script. “Nice,” Dean said, “so, what’s the plan on what we’re saying?”

“Yeah, like we talked about, we both have to make a big, life-time vow. Otherwise it’s a ‘why bother the god’ situation.”

“Are we doing the same vow or what?” Dean asked.

“We can, we don’t have to though,” Sam said. “Why, what are you thinking?”

“I was…uh, wondering what you're thinking,” Dean admitted, putting his hand on the back of his own neck, instantly giving himself away.

“I’m going to say that I’m vowing to remain with you, for the rest of our days, no matter what comes,” Sam said, letting Dean off the hook. He couldn’t stand the hesitancy, not when it mattered so much and when they were burning up the little time they had to get this done.

Dean looked up at him, those green eyes of his holding all the light of the new-dawning day, piercing right into Sam’s heart. He knew what this meant to Dean, to hear this from him, even under these circumstances. “That’s…uh, that’s good, I’m gonna use that too, if it’s okay if I copy you?”

“No problem,” Sam said with a smile, trying not to think of what he really wanted to promise. “Ready to do this or what?”

Dean nodded and they both reached out to touch the gilded top of the statue.

A roar of wind and snow and ice, a full winter storm’s blast accompanied his entrance. The Norse god of winter and justice stood before them.

“Why have you summoned me?” Ullr asked, his enormous red beard shaking as he yawned and stretched, towering above even Sam.

“We are here, as descendants of the ones who tied you to this land, to apologize to you, Ullr. My name is Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean. We did not know of the responsibilities we bore to the four guardians of our land. We did not intentionally ignore those responsibilities.”

“What my brother is saying, we’re sorry, Ullr. We didn’t even know about any of you guys being out here. But we’re here now, and we’re willing to make it up to you.”

Ullr grinned at Dean’s more colloquial statement. “I have been content, as your recent hunting on these lands has been more than enough for me. It had been quiet for many years, I have enjoyed the deepening winters.”

“Another one of the four deities, Mater Matuta, she is unhappy with our ignorance of the agreement, so we are contacting each of you in turn to make it right,” Sam said, trying to get across the real reason they’d dug this god up and bothered him.

“I am not surprised to hear of her unhappiness, we all told her that it was a lot to expect from a small amount of humans in a secret society. She would not temper her expectations.”

“We have an offering prepared, if you would care to accept it?” Sam asked.

“Of course,” Ullr said with a small nod. 

Sam and Dean pulled the rings out of their pockets. “We have read that you were accustomed to hearing sworn oaths, and having rings buried at your shrine.”

“That is true,” Ullr said. “Do you have oaths to swear and are these the rings you intend to bury?”

“Yes, we do, they are,” Sam said, looking over at Dean, who nodded.

Sam stood up tall and held the ring out towards Ullr in the open palm of his hand. His head was turned towards Dean though, he met his brother’s eyes to find the strength to do this and so that he could watch Dean hear the words. “In front of Ullr, and any other deities who care to hear, I, Sam Winchester do so vow to remain with you, Dean Winchester for the rest of our days, no matter what may come.”

Dean’s eyes almost misted over with sudden tears, and Sam almost reached out for him. But his brother steadied himself and copied Sam’s pose, continuing to lock eyes with him. “In front of Ullr, and anyone else out there with their ears on, I, Dean Winchester do so vow to remain with you, Sam Winchester for the rest of our days, no matter what may come.”

“Your lives are forfeit to me if you so ever break this vow you have sworn to me on this day,” Ullr said to both of them, his ice blue eyes solemn and unblinking.

“We do so acknowledge and swear to remain true to our vow made this day,” the brothers replied in unison. They leaned over together and buried the rings that they’d been holding near the bases of the new trees.

Ullr nodded at them, beaming wide and bright as the sun glinting off the scattered piles of late winter snow. His eyes sparkled with surprise when he noticed the just-planted yew trees.

“You have planted these beautiful trees for me?” Ullr asked.

“Yes…uh, we read that you liked yew trees, and we wanted to mark the spot where we made our vow,” Sam said.

“I do like them, very much. I have missed having trees such as these to watch over. The forests where I used to live and hunt were a veritable sea of green as far as the eye could see. I will ensure that they grow strong and true.” Ullr came towards the trees and ran his fingers over the tips of their branches.

“Thank you, Ullr. We look forward to watching them grow,” Sam said.

“Yeah, thanks, Ullr, every single time I drive by here and see these trees, I’ll remember you and I’ll remember our vow,” Dean said.

“As I look forward to watching you grow towards fulfilling your vows. You may wear the rings as a reminder. Good day, gentlemen,” Ullr said, inclining his head ever so slightly then taking a step backwards and disappearing into the trees.

“Well, that was a helluva lot easier than I thought it’d be,” Dean said, fiddling with the ring that was somehow now on his left-hand ring finger instead of buried in the soil under the yew trees.

“It was, and it took longer than I thought. I’m going to be fading soon, you’ll rebury the statue?” Sam asked, twirling the ring on his own finger.

“Sammy,” Dean said, all of a sudden his face was stricken with immense sadness. Sam felt it too, a wave of disappointment that they had to be parted after such an emotional moment. Dean opened his arms and Sam stepped into them, wrapping his own around Dean. He hesitated for a moment and then Sam tucked his face down against his brother’s neck.

“I’m sorry you had to vow something like that,” Sam said in a whisper against Dean’s skin.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Now, you’re stuck with me,” Sam said.

“Likewise, dude, and…hey, it’s really okay by me,” Dean said, his hand finding the back of Sam’s head, fingers twining into the depths of his hair.

“Me too, Dean,” Sam said. “I’m fading—“ 

Dean started to reply, but his arms were empty, the air was too, there was no more Sam. He said it out loud anyway, just in case Sam might be able to hear his words. “I didn’t need to make this vow today. I’ve been trying to live it my whole life. Hearing you say it though…” Dean trailed off, unwilling to voice what he was thinking.

He threw the shovel and gloves in the back of the truck with a clang that only increased his frustration and drove back home, turning towards the rising sun. He was going to have to get used to the light glinting off the ring. That was the only upside to all of this.

*****

Mary found the information on the god that the Men of Letters had chosen to guard the South the next evening after they’d finished the takeout Mexican she’d brought for dinner. 

“So get this,” Mary said, waving a binder full of indexed pages over Sam’s bent head. He’d looked up from what he was reading, surprised to hear his own phrase come out of his mother’s mouth. “I found the deity they used in the South, it’s Apedemak.”

“Huh, sounds Egyptian,” Sam said, drinking down the last of his tea, long-since gone cold. It had been an epic night of research, he hadn’t even bothered trying to sleep.

“Yeah, he’s the Egyptian god of war and protection. This says he’s the lion of the South, and strong of arm.”

Sam held up his tablet so Mary could see the pictures on the screen. “This look like him? Lion-headed man, or lion-headed snake, not sure which is worse.”

“Yeah, that’s him, he’s associated with the South, hawks, wheat, and is ‘the one who makes protection.’ It’s no wonder they used him, huh?”

“What do you think it’s gonna take to appease this dude?” Sam asked.

“Sheaves of wheat and a hawk?” Mary guessed.

“No lions, huh?”

“I don’t think we’re equipped for that kind of animal-wrangling, Sam, sorry,” Mary said with a grin.

“I just wanted to see Dean’s face when he shows up and there’s a lion in the back seat of the Impala,” Sam said, laughing uncontrollably at the idea. Mary joined him, unable to hold back.

****

The next morning, Dean was on his third cup of coffee, the bacon wasn’t quite ready yet, and he wasn’t even hungry for it. He was reading over the information on Apedemak that Sam had left for him. 

“What’s that song, the one you were humming?” Mary asked.

“Uh, just something I picked up somewhere,” Dean said, feeling that same possessive impulse over the tune that he and Sam had learned from Mater Matuta. It was theirs, and no one else’s.

“I thought you had to bury the rings,” Mary said, her eye zeroed in on the silver ring on Dean’s left hand.

“Ullr, he…uh, gave them back to us, to help us remember our vow,” Dean said.

Mary frowned at the reminder of her son’s vows. “Jack and I are heading out to get the bundles of wheat that you need for Apedemak. We’ll be back tomorrow if all goes well.”

“Can’t we just go sneak into one of the fields and cut some?” Dean asked.

“Nope, not at this time of year,” Mary said. “So we’re going up to the Wheat Farming Commission office up in Mandan, North Dakota. It’s about ten hours one way, so we’ll split up the driving and make it back here tomorrow. Supposedly they’ve got a display of all the kinds of wheat grown in the US, hopefully that’ll be enough to make Apedemak happy.”

“We haven’t met him yet, so who knows,” Dean said. “Have a good trip. Keep an eye on Jack’s driving, he doesn’t have a whole lot of practice yet.”

“It’s good that it’s mostly two lane roads then,” Mary said as she headed down the hallway. “Tell Sam I said to cancel the lion tamer, okay?”

“Will do, bye, Mom,” Dean said with a wave she couldn’t possibly see. Lion tamer, what was that about? He was very glad that she wasn’t going to be around today while they dealt with Hespera.

Cas was the one who found the information on Hespera, the deity the Men of Letters had asked to guard the West. He’d told them how she was the Grecian goddess of the  dusk, one of the Hesperides. She was the keeper of the golden apples, which were a bridal gift from the Earth to Zeus and Hera. According to the records, she had been promised offerings of apples every month, and prayers every evening. So they had a lot to make up for.

Sam had dug up her statue the day before and asked for specifics on what she’d require. According to him, she was very specific, she would only be appeased by a marriage and a marriage night.

Sam had relayed the conversation he’d had with Hespera to Dean, not leaving out any of the difficult parts.

“I know that you are soulmates, so a marriage night should not be so difficult a thing,” Hespera said.

“You don’t know us though. We’re brothers, so it is a big ask. And anyway, we can’t be together during the night…you know, for a marriage night,” Sam said.

“Ah yes, my sister goddess, Mater Matuta has you divided in the hours. You shall give me the time between dusk and twilight and I will count it as done.”

“But first we have to be married, actually married, right?”

“Yes, I shall need to see both the marriage as well as the marriage night, or in your case, marriage hour. As to details for that, as long as it consists of some type of normal human coupling, I shall leave those details up to you,” Hespera said.

Dean hadn’t said much after hearing all that except for a scathing, “At least it’s not sacrificing a human life, right?”

Sam made a call to the plant nursery again, asked for nine bare-root golden delicious apple trees. Cas picked them up in the truck and helped Dean plant them in a circle on the side of the road near the location of Hespera’s statue. He sang the familiar song of the dawn under his breath as he worked, the words soothing him, “A crown above and a crown below.”

“What is that song you’re singing?” Cas asked.

“Just something I picked up,” Dean said, not wanting to share this with his friend, it was something only he and Sam knew. It seemed important to keep it that way.

“It will be dusk soon,” Cas said. “Are you ready for this?”

Dean had been thinking about it all day, that they were being married tonight, and then consecrating their marriage in the usual way. Dean scowled and patted the dirt around the base of the last tree with his shovel. He stood up and brushed the dirt from his knees. “I don’t think so, but it’s happening.”

“Do you not want to go through with the marriage? I don’t believe I should carry out the ceremony if you are hesitating,” Cas said, his face smushed up into the worried look that Sam had always joked looked more like constipation.

“I’m not hesitating, just the usual marriage jitters or whatever I guess,” Dean said. He stalked over to the truck and pulled out the camping mattresses and sleeping bags. Cas watched as he arranged them in the center of the newly planted apple trees. He lit nine small pillar candles and set one in front of each tree.

Sam shimmered into being as Dean had just finished the candle lighting.

“It looks beautiful, Dean,” Sam said.

Dean turned around and saw Sam, still glistening with that fine coating of shimmer and shine left from being with the goddess of the Dawn for twelve hours. He barely stopped himself from saying something cheesy like not as beautiful as you.

“Hey, Cas, thanks for doing this,” Sam said.

“Of course, Sam, I am actually quite honored that you asked,” Cas said.

“Who the hell else was there? Who were we going to ask, Mom or Jack?” Dean said with a sarcastic snort.

“Dean, let’s just get through this,” Sam said.

“Right—we’ll get through it,” Dean muttered.

“Why don’t you start, we’ve only got so much time to get all this done,” Sam said, hoping Dean would get on board and make this bearable. Sam twisted off his ring, and handed it to Cas. Dean scowled and did the same.

Cas clinked the two rings together on his palm, cleared his throat, and began the short ceremony he’d chosen. “In the normal course of human couplings, this would not occur. But in my experience, over thousands of years, you two are unique. The bond you share, the love you have for each other, it shines as a beacon that blinds those who look closely. A ceremony of marriage is but a formality in my opinion. You were made, two souls, two bodies, but soulmates from the beginning.”

Cas turned to look at Sam. “As a representative of Heaven here on Earth, I ask you, Samuel Winchester, do you take this man, Dean Winchester to be your husband, will you wed him here this day, and be with him for the rest of your lives?”

“Yes, I will,” Sam said, voice choked with emotion.

Cas turned to look at Dean. Dean was looking only at Sam. Sam smiled and took Dean’s hand in his. Dean’s shoulders relaxed and he turned slightly to look at Cas.

“Dean Winchester, I ask you as a representative of Heaven here on Earth, do you take this man, Samuel Winchester to be your husband, will you wed him here this day, and be with him for the rest of your lives?”

Dean nodded first, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He opened them to look at Sam, and smiled. “Yes, I will,” Dean said, voice strong and clear in the evening dusk.

“These rings you have used in a vow to never leave the other, now you use in this ceremony of marriage to mark your union. I confer upon them all the grace that they can absorb. May they always remind you that Heaven looks down upon your union with favor.”

Sam took the rings from Cas’ outstretched hand. He handed Dean the smaller ring, even though Sam was a lot taller, Dean still had much larger fingers. Sam took up Dean’s left hand and slipped the larger ring onto his finger. Dean did the same, they held their hands together and Cas stepped forward to place his hands over their joined ones. Sam could feel the subtle warmth of angel grace flowing into them.

“Hespera, hear me now, I now pronounce these two men to be joined in marriage,” Cas said, squeezing their joined hands and then releasing them to step back.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam said with a wave. Cas nodded and blinked away out of sight.

Sam turned back to Dean and saw how uncomfortable he was, he had to get this over with.

“Hespera, we offer to you in tribute, this grove of apple trees, the witnessing of our marriage, and our first joining as married people.”

“Is this where we…uh, Sammy?” Dean asked, clutching at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, let’s just—“ Sam interrupted his own nervous babbling before it could get too far out of hand and pulled Dean into a kiss. It was their first as married people, and after so many years together (off and on), it still did truly feel like a first. They were hesitant at first, as if they’d been transformed by the ceremony. Dean felt larger in his arms, like they’d been equalized somehow by being married. It wasn’t possible, and Sam didn’t want to think about it anymore, he wanted to feel, wanted to have, wanted to give. 

His hands roamed over Dean’s body, possessive and grasping, pulling his clothes away as Dean did the same. Dean pulled him down to the makeshift bed, their marriage bed, and kissed the breath and life back into him. This was why they were still fighting this fight to get back to each other, this connection, this thing between them that lived and breathed and never ever died even if one of them did. 

“Love you so much, Dean,” Sam said, grasping the two of them in his palm. Dean closed his hand around Sam’s, making the friction perfect.

“Love you too, Sam, can’t believe you’re my husband now,” Dean whispered, thrusting in time with Sam.

Just hearing Dean whisper, hearing the words said out loud, no matter how quietly, set off fireworks in Sam’s mind, everything exploded into a roar of bliss and he heard Dean do the same. It was heaven.

Hespera shimmered into being, with a roar of light and an apple-scented breeze that made them shiver with pleasure. She ran her hands over the small branches of the new apple trees. Sam rolled over onto Dean to cover him from her view. 

“I thank you for this offering, and for these trees. I have missed the scent of apples for so very long.”

“I’m glad you like them,” Sam said, wishing he could put his clothes on to face her.

“I will watch over them and make sure they grow strong and true,” Hespera said.

“Did you really have to be here for this part?” Dean asked.

Hespera smiled, slow and a bit wry. “Can you blame me? You two together are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Truly an offering of divine love and divine beauty, I thank you. I was the one who told Mater Matuta that you are anima genimae. It is nothing to be ashamed of, Dean.”

Dean pushed Sam off, and stood up, naked and proud, still wet with the evidence of their coupling. “I am not ashamed, not of who we are or what we just did. Honestly, I’m just feeling interrupted here.” Dean gestured down at Sam who had stayed where he was, sprawled out on their bed.

Hespera grinned, and nodded. She disappeared in a rush of light turning to sparkles of dusk twilight. It settled over Dean’s body, making him twinkle in the dim light left of the dusk. Sam couldn’t speak, he was so damn beautiful, how was it possible that this man was his now? Dean folded himself back over Sam’s body, pressing him into the bed, into the earth, and made Sam wish he was a younger man. They were both still aroused but neither of them could recover that quickly, especially after being interrupted by a goddess. It still felt amazing to have Dean’s naked skin against his own, he never wanted to go without this again. 

“Thanks,” Sam said, grateful that Dean had stood up to Hespera to give them the last few moments of twilight alone.

“I really just wanted you all to myself,” Dean said.

“I pretty much always want that,” Sam said with a grin. 

Dean kissed his smiling lips, licking his way inside his mouth where he belonged. Sam held him close, enjoying the feeling of Dean’s weight holding him down, such a comfort to feel so safe for this moment. Dean faded away into the twilight then, leaving Sam’s arms empty but still left in the shape of the curve of Dean’s body. 

Sam pressed his head back into the camping mattress and tried not to cry at the loss. He looked up at the stars which got a little blurry but then cleared. He shivered in the cold and gathered his clothes up, getting dressed in a few seconds. The nine candles he left to burn themselves out, each at the foot of one of the new apple trees. The mattresses and sleeping bags got tossed into the truck and he drove back to the empty bunker, a newly married, but very lonely man.

****

Mary and Jack brought back a whole trunk-full of wheat bundles that next morning. They were all shades of brown and gold, some of them were even a pale green. Cas also returned with a trained hunting hawk they had bought on Craig’s List. The hawk had a little hood on, and leather traces fastened around his ankles. The hawk seller had thrown in a big leather padded glove as well. The little guy took to Dean right away and sat on his shoulder while they prepared things.

Dean was relieved that Mary didn’t seem to notice anything different about him, and she didn’t ask about what they’d had to do to appease the goddess to the West. Better left  unsaid was what Dean decided, it wasn’t something he felt up to having a conversation with his mother about, especially without Sam at his side. Hopefully at some point, after all this was over they’d be able to try to be a little more honest with her. 

Dean packed up a dinner of chicken and rice, with a side of steamed vegetables for Sam. He tried not to think about how this was their first meal as a married couple. He shook his head vigorously at allowing that thought. That kind of stuff was going to kill him if he let himself go down that road. After successfully getting the statue of Apedemak dug up, he unpacked the dinner on the hood of the Impala and waited for Sam to appear. His husband, Sam. He shook his head again, thus missing the moment of his appearance.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

Dean jumped in surprise and looked up to see Sam sitting on the other side of their dinner. Sam twinkled with the touch of the dawn all over his skin, it was ridiculous how beautiful he was. “Hey…hi,” Dean managed to say.

Sam’s eyes went warm and caring, oh god, he’d seen how embarrassed Dean was. Before Dean could freak out about that, Sam was leaning over their dinner and kissing him. It was just what he needed, Sam was just who he needed. Dean hoped that was getting across to Sam when he kissed him back. As they finally broke apart, Dean fussed with the dinner supplies.

“How’d it go with Mom and Jack’s trip?” Sam asked, serving himself some dinner to give Dean a chance to get himself together.

“It seemed okay, she said he was a very careful driver, so I’m not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.”

“What?” Sam asked, he looked at Dean like he was examining and weighing all the expressions Dean couldn’t keep off his face. “You’re leaving something out.”

“I’m…it was hard being with Mom, and her not knowing. About us, and yesterday, and all that,” Dean said.

“Oh you mean about how her sons are now married?” Sam asked with a grin. “I could see how that’d be a little uncomfortable.”

“At some point we’re gonna have to have the talk with her, right?” Dean asked, unsure how Sam would want to proceed or if he’d even thought about it.

“Can we go with ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ for now?” Sam asked.

“I want to tell her at some point, I want her to know, no, more importantly, I don’t want to have to lie about you and me…to her or to anyone,” Dean said, firm in his conviction, he wanted to shout it from the rooftops, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to hide his love for Sam. 

Sam, who hadn’t said anything for a few long moments. 

Dean glanced at him and saw tears glimmering in the corners of his brother’s eyes. He laid one hand over Sam’s and waited for him to speak.

“Sorry, just…that was something I was worrying about, a lot. And hearing you sound so sure of how you feel, it just—it was just what I needed to hear, Dean, thanks.”

“Sammy, what I vowed to Ullr, and what I said and did in front of Hespera, I meant it. If Mary can’t deal with the facts of who we are, and what we mean to each other, then…I’m okay with letting her go.”

“You are?” Sam asked, sounding so young and unsure, it broke Dean’s heart to know that he hadn’t made his brother understand how he felt.

“Yeah, absolutely, how about you?” Dean asked.

“I—yeah, same, me too, all that,” Sam babbled. 

Dean pulled Sam into as much of a hug as he could manage with their dinner in-between them. The Impala’s hood was slick, and Sam slid forward easily into his arms. He didn’t care if the chicken and rice spilled. Sam was kissing him and whispering words into his mouth, and Dean inhaled it all, not wanting to let a molecule of it ever escape him. Sam tasted so good, so perfect, he didn’t ever want to stop. Dean’s phone alarm beeped at the time he’d set, interrupting them. The light was quickly disappearing from the sky, hopefully they’d still have enough time to get this done.

“C’mon, let’s get this last one done, huh?” Dean said, reluctantly letting Sam pull away.

Dean lit several pillar candles and Sam arranged the wheat bundles. Dean got Ra out of his cage and situated him on his preferred spot to perch, up on his left shoulder. 

Sam grinned at him. “He really likes you,” Sam said. 

“He’s pretty cool, never thought I’d like a pet,” Dean said. “He likes bacon even more than mom does.”

They leaned forward together to touch the top of the statue, the golden mane glinted in the flickering candlelight. Apedemak appeared with a roar, a real lion’s roar of noise and sound and movement, it lit up the fight or flight response in Dean’s body, going on pure instinct he stepped in front of Sam. Sam’s hand landed on his non-hawk-laden shoulder and squeezed gently, Sam’s way of offering silent reassurance.

“Apedemak, you who gives guidance, we are Sam and Dean Winchester, and we are here to revitalize our support. You guide us to satisfaction, and we give much reverence to you. We give it amicably to you, may it go forth,” Sam read from the paper they’d prepared, it had been adapted from a tablet found in one of Apedemak’s temples in Egypt.

Apedemak lowered his mane-covered head slightly in a very human looking bow of acceptance. “You Winchesters have kept me entertained and well-occupied these last few years, I did not think gods and angels and demons would beat such a path to your doors.”

“We appreciate any protection you have provided and any that you can offer in the future,” Sam said, bowing his head, Dean was struck with how much like a lion-mane his brother’s hair looked in the light from the candles.

“Yeah, thanks for keeping us, and the bunker protected. We’re sorry that we haven’t made any offerings to you, we honestly didn’t know it was a thing we were supposed to be doing. We want to make it up to you,” Dean said, Ra crowed from his shoulder which made Apedemak smile. The revelation of the lion’s sharp teeth made Dean gasp in fear. Sam bumped him with his hip.

“What is it that you offer to me?” Apedemak asked, his lion eyes sharp and assessing on both of them, it made Dean’s skin crawl, a predator eyeing its prey.

“One of the offerings going forward is that we have signed an agreement with our neighbor to plant wheat here every year from now on. He’s already planting it on his own land, so we’re renting him this quadrant of our land. In addition to that, we promise to tend to the wheat, offer you a portion of the harvest, and to bring the hawk out every month to see you,” Sam said.

Apedemak smiled, his enormous lion-sized teeth shining in the candle light. “I accept, but with one small adjustment.” He held out an arm and the hawk took off from Dean’s shoulder, swooped over their heads several times in the quickly darkening sky and landed elegantly, digging its talons into the dark skin of his forearm. “The hawk will be much happier with me.”

Dean was momentarily sad to lose Ra, but he knew Apedemak was probably right. Pets, no matter how cool, didn’t really fit in with their hunting lifestyle. Were there even pet-sitters who could take care of hawks? 

“So we’re all good then?” Dean asked.

“Yes, Dean, we are as you say, ‘all good’. I assume you ask because of Mater Matuta and her demands?”

Dean nodded, not wanting to name the details of what they were both so worried about. 

“Is there anything you can do to help us with what she’s asking?” Sam asked.

“Unfortunately, no, that is not how this works. We are each separately engaged to protect part of the lands here. We hardly interact at all, but please know that each of us has communicated to her that we believe her demands are egregious. But she is what you would call ‘old school’ and cannot be swayed. I am sorry to say there is nothing any of us can say or do to change her mind.”

“Thank you for trying, we appreciate it so much, especially because you didn’t have to do that for us,” Sam said.

“But I did, after all, it wasn’t just done for you. As you’ve been told before, your presence in the world is one of the things keeping it all in balance. Call it a measure of self preservation. Ra and I will go now, I want to show him the night skies.”

Apedemak disappeared with a lion’s growl that echoed into the silent night. Shit—it was night. Dean turned to Sam and got to say one thing. “Told you we were the shit, Sammy.” 

Dean grinned and then disappeared before Sam could reply. Maybe the two of them were important to the world’s balance or whatever, but standing there alone, left with a hole in the ground to fill in, Sam didn’t see how that could continue to work if they were always separated like this. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on, it was getting to be too hard.

*****

It had been months and months of this, all the way from the end of January to June, they’d alternated in and out of the dawn and dusk, researching and digging up statues and appeasing deities. The brothers grew more and more desperate as the days passed, the worry over the sacrifice that Mater Matuta demanded an ever-present storm cloud. 

The brothers traded the advances in their research at dawn and dusk, during the only times when they could appear to each other. Dean had the hours between dawn and dusk, and Sam had dusk to dawn. These were the hours when they were corporeal and able to do stuff, see other people, work on research, etc. But they couldn’t see each other during the majority of the day, and they found they couldn’t stand it, it drove them both nuts how much they missed each other. In the very short times twice daily between dusk and dawn, and dawn and dusk, they could appear to each other, but it wasn’t enough. In those times, they gradually came back together. They couldn’t help it, they needed the comfort, they needed something for their hearts and spirits to hold onto while they worked on the case. Their case.

The three other deities were now appeased, the lutin was dead too, thanks to Diana. Just Mater Matuta remained and June 11 was soon approaching. The brothers hadn’t worked on that issue, it hadn’t seemed like something that was negotiable. Their only hope was that the other three deities would be pleased enough to intercede with Mater Matuta on their behalf. But after talking to all three of them in turn, they’d realized they were stuck with having to pay this horrible debt.

The boys didn’t ever ask Mary, or even tell her about the sacrifice that was coming due. But she found their research, and saw the date written and underlined. Sam’s last words written were: 

“Was two lives owed to Mater Matuta, now “only” one because of Diana killing the lutin. If we don’t sacrifice someone, then what happens to us? Are we stuck like this dawn to dusk forever? Or—worst case scenario: Do we then become the default sacrifice if we don’t make another one in our places? Can I offer myself, would she accept that? Due Date: June 11 - Matralia. ” 

“Oh boys, no wonder,” Mary whispered to herself. She had less than a day to think about it, but it all came into focus in a flash, knowing what they’d been worried about these past months, on top of everything else it explained so much of their behavior. She might have a chance here to finally make things right. This might be her turn to make the sacrifice. After all they’d done it seemed like it was someone else’s turn, and since she was their mother, it only seemed right. 

Mary wasn’t sure if a voluntary sacrifice would count to pay the sacrifice. But she might be able to appease Mater Matuta before tomorrow, which was June 11. It was the festival of mothers for mothers, for women married only once especially. It was part of the traditional celebration, held on June 11, the date of the annual festival of Matralia. 

She sat and drank her coffee alone in her room, read all about mothers and sons and long-lost husbands and families and their experiences with Mater Matuta back in the ancient times. If she was honest with herself, she knew that she hadn’t been much of a mother to these boys this second time around, she hadn’t really tried. Most of her time since she’d been back had been staying busy to avoid the pain of being separated from the ones she’d left behind in Heaven. These men were not those boys, she didn’t know them, even though she loved them. And they were in so much pain being separated like this, it wasn’t right for the world to maybe lose them altogether. If she had the chance to save both of the brothers from their torment, she was going to at least give it a try. 

Every day she had seen the pain this separation had wrought on both of them and it wasn’t getting any better for them. They were not adjusting, it seemed more and more like they were not going to survive it if it went on much longer. Then there was Sam’s written speculation about what happened if the sacrifice wasn’t made, maybe they’d be stuck in the dawn-dusk thing forever, or even worse, be taken as the sacrifice. Neither of those two options were okay with her. This world needed them, that she knew for sure. This was their world, she’d never felt right here in this time and place, it had never felt like she truly belonged or that they’d really needed her around. She knew that she didn’t know even half of their whole story and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. 

Mary saw Sam come in, dragging himself into the kitchen to heat up some leftover coffee. She hugged him and tried to keep it normal so he didn’t notice. But he was so tired, exhausted really, and he barely looked at anything besides his coffee cup. It made up her mind for her.

“Everything go okay with Apedemak?” Mary asked.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, he took Ra with him, so Dean was a little bummed. But otherwise, it went as planned. He said that Dean and I are important to keeping the world in balance. I’m not sure how to think or feel about hearing that.” 

“Whoa, that’s pretty wild to hear from a god. I think it must mean something really positive though. Right, Sam?” Mary asked.

Sam nodded, but stayed silent, obviously chewing over all the thoughts of what balance Dean and he could provide to the world if they never got back to normal.

“What’s that song you’re humming, it sounds familiar, maybe?” Mary asked.

“Just…uh something I picked up somewhere,” Sam said. Mary didn’t press him any further, but was unnerved by the strange look that crossed her son’s face. It reminded her of the expression Dean had worn when he’d been humming the same tune. Sam wandered off without another word.

She took the chance when Sam was sleeping for his four hours to drive out to the east of the bunker. She started digging in the spot where it had been marked and soon uncovered the top of the statue. She touched it and was blown away by the whoosh of light and singing that assaulted her senses. She heard and felt music, a strong female voice was singing “A crown above and a crown below” and Mary wondered what it meant. She realized that it was the song she’d heard both of her boys humming over the last few months.

When the light cleared from her eyes, Mary saw a female figure standing before her, tall and shapely, glittering like the dawn’s light on a dewy morning lawn. “Mater Matuta, can we talk?” Mary asked.

“Ah, yes, Mary Winchester, I have heard many things about you,” Mater Matuta said, her voice ringing like bells.

“I’ve heard many things about you as well. I have come to celebrate Matralia with you today. Was that you who I heard singing so beautifully?” Mary said.

“Yes, that is my song for the dawn, thank you. I sing it every morning for the dawn’s light to rise. In order for us to celebrate Matralia I must ask you, are you a free woman, in your first marriage? And do you honor your sister’s children on this day?”

“I am a free woman, I have only been married once, although my husband has passed. I have no sister of my own, just the sisterhood of other women, and I do honor all of their children,” Mary said.

Mater Matuta smiled in acceptance. “Mary, I will be honest with you. I have been very tired, all these years alone, fighting with the lutin for the protection of this place, never getting my due as I was promised. The only thing that kept me going was that the dawn light is so pure and strong in this place. I was giving up, becoming weaker year by year, and then they came. Lit up the whole place, from my point of view, you see? The love pouring from the two of them was something to behold, brighter than the most beautiful sunrise. I was told by one of my directional counterparts, that they are anima genimae and then it all made sense. Especially once I met them together.”

When Mary didn’t respond, Mater Matuta continued, “Anima genimae is what I believe you would call soulmates.”

“My boys…are soulmates?” Mary asked, stunned almost into paralysis.

“They are brothers?” Mater Matuta asked, sounding surprised with herself to not have considered that possibility.

“Yes, they’re both my sons, Dean is four years older than Sam.”

“That was not how I saw it, I am sorry for assuming.”

“What was it that you did assume?” Mary asked in a halting voice.

“That they were soul mates in all the ways two humans can be.”

“Ah…that explains a lot,” Mary said, everything suddenly slotting into place. All the strange things she’d noticed over the years about her boys, the obvious thing between her boys. They’d likely been one thing before she’d arrived, and ripped themselves apart because she’d come. Maybe it made her the worst sort of mother, but she didn’t want to deal with what she’d caused, or what they truly were. It was too much, she just wanted to go back to her little boys, and her husband in their corner of Heaven. 

“What does it explain?” Mater Matuta asked.

“Knowing that my boys are anima genimae makes this decision even easier for me. I would like to offer myself to you to pay the required sacrifice,” Mary said.

“I thank you for your generous offer, however a suicide will not be enough, it must be a sacrifice,” Mater Matuta said.

“Can you bring someone here for me? There is a boy, a nephilim, they consider him as their son, he lives with them here. His name is Jack, and if I ask him, I think he will do it for me and for them.”

Mater Matuta nodded and closed her eyes, her mouth moved as she whispered, “I will bring him here. Jack, come to us.”

The light flared up again, bright and hot, Mary shielded her eyes, and then she felt someone standing next to her on the dewy lawn.

“Mary?” Jack asked, “Where are we?”

“Jack this is Mater Matuta, the goddess of the dawn. She is the one who has split Sam and Dean’s time. She requires a human sacrifice to be made today.”

“It is what I am owed,” Mater Matuta said.

Jack looked at both of them without speaking, his face full of fear.

 “Jack? Will you do it, for them?” Mary asked.

“If it is what they would want, Mary, then yes,” Jack said, bowing his head. “I will let you kill me, yes.”

“No! Jack, no!” Mary shouted in alarm, Jack’s head whipped up and he searched her eyes, not understanding.

“No, that is not what they would want. I asked Mater Matuta to bring you here, so that you can sacrifice me, so that I can save them from this torment, from this debt. I can’t let them live separated like this, Jack, it’s slowly killing them. You’ve seen how bad it’s gotten. And I’m not even supposed to be here, we all know that. Please?”

“I will do it, Mary. I will do it for them, and for you,” Jack agreed, he slipped his angel sword out of his sleeve, just like Castiel had taught him.

“Is there something Jack has to do, besides just kill me?” Mary asked.

“Offer the death to me, and then they will be released,” Mater Matuta. “It is right and just that you as their mother offer this sacrifice to bring them into the world once again. More mothers should follow your example, Mary.”

“Go ahead, Jack. Just…make sure and tell them that I love them,” Mary said.

“I will, Mary. I love you too,” Jack said, he plunged the angel sword into her heart and caught her as she fell. “I offer the death of Mary Winchester to you.”

“I accept this sacrifice, they are free,” Mother Matuta said taking Mary’s still form from Jack into her arms. “She will rejoin her loved ones in her Heaven.” She disappeared with Mary and in their place stood both Sam and Dean, blinking in surprise. 

They could hear her singing one final time, ‘A crown above and a crown below’.

It was high noon, why were they out here at mile marker twelve, together? And why was Jack standing there with a bloody angel sword and tears on his face. 

“What’s wrong, Jack?” Sam asked, stepping forward to hold him.

Dean took the bloody sword out of his hand and wiped it on the grass. “Are you okay, buddy? Why are we both out here at noon?”

“It’s over, you’re free. I had to, I’m so sorry, I had to…she asked me, to do it to save you,” Jack said through tears, he grabbed at Sam and hid his face in his shirt.

“What did you do?” Sam asked, looking at Dean over Jack’s head. Dean’s face was turning thunderously angry as they both realized what this likely meant.

“Where’s Mom, Jack?” Dean asked in a cold monotone.

“She’s dead, Mater Matuta took her away. Mary tried to offer herself, but Mater Matuta said it couldn’t be a suicide, that it wouldn’t count. So Mary asked for me to come, and I did and—”

“Oh, Jack…oh no,” Sam said, holding him more closely.

“She asked me to do it, it was the only way it would work. She said we all knew she wasn’t supposed to be here, and she wanted to save you. She said to tell you, that she loves you. I’m so sorry,” Jack said, finally looking up at Sam.

Sam cupped the back of his head and tried not to cry or scream or any of the things he felt like doing. “I know you are, Jack, I know.”

Dean stomped off past the twelve mile marker, his shoulders shrugged almost up to his ears, both hands clenched into tight fists. Sam and Jack watched him disappear into the distance away from the bunker.  

Sam let go of Jack and took a step in the opposite direction. “We should go home.”

“What about Dean?” Jack asked, as they started walking back to the bunker.

“He’ll come around eventually, don’t worry,” Sam said.

“He’s not going to kill me, right?” Jack asked.

“No…no he won’t do that, he’s just got to work around to accepting what she did—for us. He won’t blame you for it,” Sam said.

“Do you?” Jack asked.

Sam stopped walking. Jack stopped and turned around to face Sam.

“No, Jack, I don’t blame you. You did something that neither Dean or I could have possibly done. Was it the right thing? Who knows, maybe, probably, I don’t know. But it isn’t something I’m ever going to blame you for doing. We’re free now, because of what you did, and because of what our mom sacrificed,” Sam said. “Okay?”

“Okay, Sam,” Jack said with a nod.

They walked the rest of the way back to the bunker in silence.

****

Jack spent that afternoon in his room alone, until Cas arrived. 

“They are not angry with you, Jack. I know it may seem as if they are, but they are just very very sad. You can feel that from them, right?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, I can. And I wish I could…I wish I could undo it. I wish I’d said no,” Jack said.

“If you had said no, then Sam and Dean would have permanently been in the dusk to dawn state, or even worse. Mater Matuta would have made sure she received payment in some form, maybe even taken them as sacrifice,” Cas said.

Jack looked at him with huge eyes, scared at the prospect of losing the two men he most considered to be his fathers. 

“Pack a bag, we are going to go on a hunt, the last one that Mary found for us. We will give them some time alone to process their loss and honor Mary’s memory as well.”

“Will Dean ever get over me being the one who killed Mary?” Jack asked.

“Yes, I believe he will. But I do not know how long it will take. We need to give him some time to get started, we should go soon,” Cas said, leaving Jack’s room to go let Sam in on his plan.

****

It had been a few weeks now, they’d had a small memorial for Mary with some of the hunters that remained from the other world. Cas and Jack had been gone on a hunt for quite a while now. That had left Sam and he orbiting around each other in the now-empty bunker, two lonely planets set on their own individual trajectories. For a second there, Dean had thought they were finally on the same one, he’d thought they’d be sharing the ride together. But Sam hadn’t acted the way he had expected, maybe he’d been hiding all the emotion or maybe Dean had missed seeing it. Either way, it seemed like Mary’s sacrifice hadn’t had much of an effect on Sam. It made him wonder about all the things they’d said and done to appease the deities, if any of it had meant the same deep emotional things to Sam at all. They hadn’t talked about what they’d promised and vowed, they hadn’t talked about much of anything really. 

“In the end, Mom ended up being just as self-sacrificing as Dad was,” Sam said, sounding surprised to be voicing that out loud. He drained the rest of his whisky and set the glass down carefully on the table between them. 

Dean realized that he wasn’t much surprised, it was the truth. Mary had been all over the map since she’d been back. It had been hard for them to really count on her for anything. To be sure of her motivations. But in the end, it had worked out to trust her after all the evidence to the contrary. She came through for them, just like she did when she saved Sam from that poltergeist all those years ago.

“Pretty sure that runs in the family. It’s like our family version of kryptonite or something,” Dean said. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, I’m going to bed,” Sam said, getting up from the table and stretching his arms above his head.

Dean finished his whisky and followed Sam down the hall towards their rooms. He didn’t know what came next for them, but he knew what he wanted to happen. What he needed to happen, but he didn’t know how to get there. It felt like it was finally time to at least ask, since Sam wasn’t doing the asking.

“Sammy, come on,” Dean said, stopping at his own door. He waited for Sam to decide, it had to be what Sam wanted too, it just had to be. 

“I’m just getting something, I’ll be right back,” Sam said, continuing down the hall to his own room without even a backwards glance.

Dean stood there like the love-sick fool he was and always would be, even though they’d vowed and freaking gotten married and stuck with each other all this time, he still always had that one niggling worry. Sam deserved more than this, deserved better than him, and someday, probably sooner rather than later, he’d figure that out and leave for good. 

He shut his door and sat on the edge of his bed staring into space, remembering the apple grove, the vows they’d made by the yew trees. According to Sam, all of that was just to appease the deities, keep the bunker’s power plan on schedule. He’d given everything to this fight over the years, he guessed he’d just given his heart over to it too. 

“Hey, sorry it took me so long to…” Sam said, shutting the door behind him. “Dean?”

“Yeah—what’s up?” Dean asked, not looking at Sam, he couldn’t, he didn’t want to see this, didn’t want to watch how his brother was going to leave him, but not leave.

“I was just glad you finally asked, I wanted to bring some of my stuff in here, make it official. Is that all right with you?” 

“Why, you run out of drawer space all of a sudden?” Dean snarked, still not looking at Sam. He was struggling to get his walls to rebuild quickly enough, he was plainly going to need them right away.

“What are you—oh no, no way, Dean, you are not doing this to us again,” Sam said, sounding angry and cold.

Dean finally looked up at his brother standing against the closed door, a big cardboard box in his arms, his wooden memory box balanced on top of everything. Was he moving out or something? He noticed that Sam’s eyes were flashing with dangerous levels of anger.

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked, he didn’t understand what Sam was doing in here with a box of his stuff. Why couldn’t he just leave without making a big deal out of it?

Sam set his box down on the table and stalked towards the bed. He stood between Dean’s legs, and his hands landed on Dean’s shoulders, pressing him down into the bed. “You don’t get to take all this back, not after Mom did what she did for us,” Sam said in a harsh whisper, sounding like that was as loud as he dared let himself say those words.

“I’m not taking anything back, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean said, chin lifting in challenge to the anger still lighting that familiar fire in Sam’s eyes.

“I’m not taking anything back either. We made promises to each other, vows in front of gods and goddesses, and I intend to honor them. What about you?” Sam challenged, his mouth a firm, decisive line.

“Sure, because it’s on pain of death in one case and a threat to your manhood in another. I’m pretty sure they’re not watching us 24/7 in here, you’re probably good if we just play at it when we go out to the directions to do the ceremonial stuff.”

“You asshole, what are you even saying? You think all that was just a ruse to fool the deities? You think I was making all of that up? Really?” Sam asked, still holding onto Dean’s shoulders. His fingers pressed in deep, barely holding back from shaking him.

“Sammy, it’s not like you could have possibly meant all that stuff. Even I know that,” Dean shrugged, bearing the weight of Sam’s hands.

“You know nothing,” Sam said in a husky growl, squeezing Dean’s shoulders even harder in his rough grip.

“You will never ever sound like Ygritte, just give it up now, dude,” Dean said, satisfied with his bringing in the Game of Thrones reference. Hopefully it would throw Sam off and end this conversation before it got any worse.

“You absolute idiot, I meant every goddamn word. And if you don’t know that, then I don’t think I can do this,” Sam said, finally taking his hands off Dean’s shoulders and stepping away. He gathered up his box from the table and had the door most of the way open by the time Dean could react.

“Wait…hold on, you did?” Dean asked, his emotional walls falling just like the ice wall they’d watch fall recently on Game of Thrones.

Sam stopped in the doorway, half in and half out. He didn’t say anything for an excruciatingly long moment. 

“I meant it all too,” Dean said into the long silence between them.

Sam’s head hung towards his chest. “Yeah, I know you did, Dean. I’m not sure this can work since you didn’t believe I meant it all too.”

“You’re leaving then?” Dean asked, trying and failing to hold his panic out of his voice.

“No, I’m just going back to my room. I’ll see you in the morning I guess,” Sam said.

 “I wish you’d stay,” Dean said and he knew that he’d never wished a wish harder than that one.

“I wish for a lot of things I don’t get,” Sam said.

“I believe you, that you meant it all,” Dean said. “C’mon, you know I’m an idiot about all this stuff.”

Sam finally turned around and looked at Dean. He sighed and suddenly looked so weary and tired, and like he was about to drop his box. Dean jumped up from the bed and took the box from his brother. He set it back on the table and led Sam to his side of the bed. The one he used to sleep on when they regularly shared a bed. It had to be a good sign that Sam let him, right?

He started to take Sam’s outer shirts off, but Sam’s hands circled his wrists, stopping him.

“You’re fucking exhausting, you know that?” Sam asked with a put-upon sigh.

“We’re both pretty high-maintenance, dude. You’d think you’d know that already, sheesh,” Dean teased, twisting his hands in Sam’s grip. Sam walked him backwards until Dean’s back was against the wall. Dean’s stomach did a flip at the familiar possessiveness in his brother’s eyes. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed seeing that.

“You’re mine, Dean, you know that, right?” Sam growled against Dean’s neck, nipping at the skin in several places.

Dean squirmed in his hold, gasping at the pain and pleasure assaulting him. “Yeah, I do. I’m yours, Sammy, always been yours.”

Sam stopped then, pressing his body against Dean’s, holding Dean’s arms against the wall above his head, his hands still tight around Dean’s wrists. “And who can say the same thing about me?”

“I can?” Dean asked.

“Make that into a statement instead of a question, and then maybe we’ll be getting somewhere,” Sam said with a slight growl of impatience.

“You’re mine too, Sammy,” Dean said, twisting his hands out of Sam’s grip and grabbing at Sam’s neck, twisting them into his hair. He brought Sam down to his level so he could take his lips. They were his again, his to taste and feel. His to lavish all the long, breathless kisses he’d missed all this time. All that stupid time wasted. He tried to put all of that into how he kissed Sam now.

“I believe it, I believe you,” Sam said, his hips making the case with a rhythmic pulse of delicious friction. It was almost enough until it wasn’t. Sam stepped back and Dean almost cried out at the loss. Then Sam’s hands were back, and taking off Dean’s clothes, piece by piece, slow button by slow button. His own hands tried to do the same but Sam stepped back, out of reach. “You are so fucking beautiful, Dean. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Same here,” Dean said, his heart in his throat, he’d never thought, he’d never known…no, he had, he just hadn’t let himself believe it. “Sammy, can I please?” Dean asked, making ridiculous grabby hands towards Sam, hoping he’d let him do the undressing honors.

Sam grinned, slow and wide, that sex-filled smile that made Dean groan with anticipation. “Can you please what?”

“Want to get you naked too,” Dean said, taking one small step towards him.

Sam knelt before him, and pushed him back up against the wall. He nuzzled his face into Dean’s stomach, his breath ticklish and hot. Dean felt himself thicken and strain towards Sam’s face. It was ridiculous and embarrassing how much he wanted this, how much he needed it. Sam’s tongue flicked out and circled the head, then his mouth sealed over it, lips slipping along the shaft, wet and hot and perfect. He groaned and leaned into the wall for support, hand coming up to hold onto the back of Sam’s head for balance. 

Sam’s eyes flicked up and took his own over, he couldn’t look anywhere else, until Sam closed his as he sank in closer, pressing himself forward until Dean was all the way inside, deep into Sam’s throat. He cried out at how good it felt, little thrusts of his hips started without his permission, but Sam encouraged him, grabbing at his ass, kneading each buttock in one giant hand, pulling them apart, until Sam’s fingers slipped into the cleft, brushing over his hole where he was so sensitive. He cried out again in pleasure, shooting all he had down Sam’s throat. 

Sam swallowed, of course he swallowed, slow and through, glorious movement along the length of Dean’s whole cock, and his eyes, his eyes oh god, they were everything. Sam meant it, Dean believed it now, not just with his heart and soul, but with his body too. 

“Let me show you, Dean,” Sam said, standing up and taking his shirt off. Dean helped unbutton his jeans at least, slipping them down over Sam’s slim hips. He marveled at how his brother’s body still made him feel, possessive and hot inside, that mineminemine feeling swarming all through him. 

“Show me what, Sammy?” Dean barely managed to ask.

“How I’m yours, how you’re mine,” Sam said, pushing Dean onto the bed, crawling over him, covering him, taking him over. Dean didn’t care, he wanted to be shown, he wanted to know it forever, for real—for true this time. 

“No take-backs,” Dean whispered against Sam’s lips.

Sam stopped and looked down at him, eyes hungry and hot, “No do-overs either, this is it now,” Sam said and kissed him breathless all over again. 

Dean didn’t know why it felt different, he didn’t remember it being as intense as this before, something had changed. It had to be that they’d just given themselves over to  each other, in front of the deities, those vows they’d made, the ground they’d consecrated, it was all part of what made this different, made it more real, more true. Dean tried to communicate that in how he kissed Sam back. And it seemed to work. 

Sam had always been unstoppable, inevitable in bed, usually he just took over, but tonight, this time, he was communicating right back with Dean. Dean was hearing how much he was loved, how much he was treasured and desired with each touch, each kiss or nip. When he felt Sam’s fingers pressing into him, wet with lube (thank god since it’d been a while) he knew this was it. He couldn’t even say the phrase in his mind, but this wasn’t just sex tonight.

Sam had him opened up and was kneeling between his legs, the smooth blunt head of him pressing in, slow and steady. Sam’s eyes held his, so soft and tender, while every inch of him was taking Dean over, making him into something else—no, someone’s else. His, he was Sam’s, Dean got it now, as Sam steadily thrust his way in, hips churning and pulsing in a new rhythm, one that Dean didn’t want to keep on top of or try to control, because this was Sam communicating with his body. Dean, you’re mine, he heard loud and clear.

Dean answered back with his own thrusts and grinds, making Sam gasp loudly with the pleasure. Sam, you’re mine.

They moved together in the timeless unspoken conversation, the one that made all their vows and offerings a true and real offering to themselves, no deities need observe. This was just Sam and Dean together now, as they were always meant to be. The power of the bunker could wax and wane for all they cared. Here was the home they made together.

***

That might be the end, but it wasn’t, not really. Now that she was gone, they got to be together again. But of course it wasn’t going to be that easy. At first Jack didn’t know what was happening, they’d never been together like this in his whole life. But Jack liked it, his dads were a whole lot happier. Cas wasn’t around as much lately, spending most of his time trying to help get Heaven back on track, but he was happy for them as well. 

They tried not to fall back into old habits that had never served them well in the past, but they were creatures of habit just like the rest of us, and they fought and sniped and made up and loved and had a life. The rings stayed shiny and on their fingers, the prayers and offerings were made on schedule, the gods and goddesses stayed happy-ish, and the bunker seemed to ramp up in its protective power. Cas had trouble getting in most of the time, and even Jack occasionally. It was great to tease them about, but also a pain in the ass.

Sam got back to his running early in the morning schedule, usually accompanied by either Jack or Dean, and sometimes both of them. At first it had been a protective thing on their parts, it was hard to not be superstitious of the dawn taking Sam away again. It felt better that way, running back towards home with the dawn’s light on his back, their family’s footsteps in sync. And if any of them ever hummed the dawn’s tune again, they didn’t mention it to each other.

The End