Epilogue

"You believe him?"

Sam looked out along the slow moving river, sluggish brown water churning in the dry heat of the day.

"I don't know."

Dean nodded, leaned forward on the railing, elbows resting on the metal bar. "I believe him."

Sam shot him a look, noting the easy posture, the smooth brow, his calm voice.

"Because of the kid?"

"He saved him," Dean said. "I don't know why, but I really do believe he saved him. And I thank God for it."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I guess I do believe him too. But, Dean. If we believe that, then what about all that other stuff? The journal?"

Dean quirked him a look. "Ghoulies and ghosties and long leggedy beasties?"

"And things that go bump in the night, yeah. You believe that?"

"Course not," Dean scoffed. "You?"

"No way."

The river moved on, a few clouds scudded across the sky, a gentle breeze finally shook the dusty trees behind them.

"All the same, it's weird," Sam said thoughtfully. "Singer didn't seem crazy. I knew Phil for years, and he was as sane as they come. And our father..."

"They all believe," Dean said, eyes squinting in the sunlight. "Doesn't mean there's anything to it, Sam. Some people believe in little green men from outer space, doesn't make 'em real."

"I guess." Sam wrapped an arm around Dean's waist, curved himself closer. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Dean leaned into him with a sigh, long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks as he closed his eyes for a moment. "Yeah, I'm okay. For the first time in a long time. I feel like..." He groped for words. "Like a weight's been lifted off me. Like I can breathe again."

Sam rested his cheek on Dean's head, soft hair caressing his skin. "Good. I'm glad we came."

"Even though we still have more questions than answers?"

Sam thought about it. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I'm glad we came as well. But you know what?"

"You wanna go home?"

"Well, I was thinking, motel, air-con and sex, but yeah. After that, we could go home." Dean's arm hooked around him, hauling him closer still, and Sam chuckled, dropping a kiss on sun-warmed hair.

"Cool."

888

Nick didn't say too much when they arrived home, just started a pot of coffee and pulled down the cookie tin. The three men sat around the table, talking about the break in the heat, and how the Impala had handled her first, long run.

"You get everything sorted out?" he said quietly to Sam, when Dean disappeared to take a leak.

"I think so," Sam said. "Yeah, we did." Nick was still looking a little anxious, so Sam smiled and patted his hand. "He's okay," he assured the older man, and Nick frowned into his eyes for a moment, then nodded.

"Course he is," he said, helping himself to a cookie.

The End