Note: This is more less an AU, but there are some Season 5 spoilers in this part. I've been a little hesitant to put this up (it's kinda an epilogue type thing) But a few people requested more to this fic, so I thought they might enjoy it. Thank you for reading.

Three weeks later…

Sam watched the landscape from the window of the car. The sun hung low in the sky and no rays warmed the dark leather in the front seat. He turned to Dean. "You should let me drive, Dean."

Dean snarled at him.

"Look, man. I know it's your turn, but you're exhausted." Sam said.

Dean thumped the steering wheel. He cut his eyes towards Sam. "I'm fine, Sam."

Sam crossed his arms. This wasn't over.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Sam glanced down at his cell phone. 1 new text message. Sam sighed, banging his head against the back of his seat. More shit to deal with.

"Another one from clone Dad?" Now Dean sounded amused.

"What do you think?" Sam rubbed his forehead. He took in a deep inhale and clicked on the message.

Sam. Angel Vessel. Careful. Being hunted. Dad.

Sam let his head loll back and turned off his phone.

"What is it this time?" Dean's turned and looked at him. "I mean. Is he bored or is there a point to it?" Dark circles surrounded his eyes. The wheels of the car slipped off the road and they bumped onto the rough shoulder.

"Dean! Road." Sam glared. He bit his lip, thinking about the text. "You know, he's not…exactly…like Dad."

"Yeah, I know. Clone Dad's from a freakin' parallel universe. You just figuring this out Sam? You're supposed to be the smart one." Dean sounded impatient. "What did he send you?" His brother's face fell into thought. "If he starts sending coordinates like the other one, I'm gonna find him and kick his…"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Mine's off." Sam gave Dean a pointed look. His brother fumbled in his pockets for his cell. The car swerved to the right.

"Dammit." Dean said, straightening the car in the lane. "What the hell. How's he even got time for this…" Dean scowled down at the phone and threw it over to Sam. Sam read the message.

Dean. Angel Vessel. Careful. Being hunted. Dad.

"Sent me the same thing." Sam said. "I'm going to text him back and tell him we already know this shit." Sam smirked. He typed into Dean's phone – Thanks. Any info we don't know? Useful? – and hit send.

"Dude." Dean scowled over at him. "Stop that. You're encouraging him again." His brother cocked his head down at the cell. "Did you send it on my phone? What the hell, Sam. Now he's gonna keep sending me messages for the rest of the day." Dean made a reach for the phone. "Bitch." He grumbled when Sam held it out of reach. At least Dean sounded halfway awake.

"You're the one that sends him two messages a day." Sam flattened his tone. "One in the morning and one in the night. Like clockwork."

"Two a day, Sam. The man doesn't know another soul in this world except us. I'm being a good, you know, other son." Dean frowned. "Which is a hella lot more than the asshole deserves." He added under his breath. "Besides." He turned back to Sam. "You're the one that texts him like a stupid middle schooler every time we drive any distance. It's embarrassing."

"I text him when I'm bored." Sam heard the offense in his voice. Hell. He'd turned his phone off after the message, afterall. "And it's only been like four times."

"In three weeks. For two hours each time."

"Well, you do it every day. That's worse."

"No." Dean voice rang firm in the car. "It's not. You do it because you want to. I do it out of duty."

Sam shook his head. "Whatever." He rubbed the phone in his hand. "He's already taken out three demons and two ghouls. You'd think hunting nonstop would put the texting thing to rest."

"Yeah. And when did our version ever give anything a rest?"

Beep. Beep. Beep. Dean's phone beeped again.

Dean huffed. He motioned Sam to hand him his phone, lips twitching down as air puffed out his lips. Sam grinned at him and flipped it open again.

Smart ass. Nightmares?

"Hey? Don't read it." Dean reached over, grabbed it, and flipped it shut. "You want to play phone tag with other Dad, use your own damn cell." He stuffed the phone back in his pocket.


Sam's mind flittered over the message. He glanced at his brother. "Does he…uh…always ask about the nightmares. I mean, do you two talk about them?"

Dean hung his head down and clenched his jaw. He glowered at Sam. "I don't know, Sam. He always ask you about the blood addiction?"



"No." Sam repeated. "He's not worried about it."

Dean quirked an eyebrow. "He's not worried about you drinking demon blood? Really?"

"No. Just hunts and stuff. And the apocalypse." And you…but Sam kept that in his head. He shrugged. "Before he left. He told me I was a helluva lot stronger than the demon blood." Sam looked away from his brother. "It's like that flipped a switch. I'll beat it." Sam huffed. "I wish I could say the same for the apocalypse."

Dean didn't comment. His face turned thoughtful. The lines near his eyes tightened. Sam watched him and pulled out his Blackberry. He turned it back on. Sam wondered if his brother could fall asleep at the wheel while that tense. He glanced down at his phone. 1 new text message. He hit read.

Hunting a ghoul.

"He's hunting a ghoul." He informed Dean.

"Another one?" Dean scratched his head. "What's with him and ghouls? Seems like all he wants to hunt are those and demons. I'm going to tell Cas to send him after a damn spirit."

Sam bit his lip. "I told him about Adam."

"Oh." Dean said and then kept quiet.

Where? Sam sent back. The message came back immediately.

Texas. On my way there now.

"Huh." Sam heard the irritation in his voice. He nudged his brother with his elbow. "He's doing it while he's driving." Dean either didn't hear or didn't care because he didn't react. Maybe he was lost in thought again. Or asleep. Sam peered at him. No. His fool brother was awake. Well, his eyes were open anyway. Sam shook his head. "Idiots." His swift fingers sent a return note.

Dont msg & drive. Dangerous.

John messaged back within a minute.

Ur a good kid.

"Dude." Sam held up his cell to his brother hoping to bring him out of his head. He waved the phone in front of him. "He's learning the slang, Dean."

Dean glanced at it and shrugged. "If you don't want him driving and doing it, turn off your phone."

Sam considered that. "Yeah." He kept it on. "I guess."

"Don't sound so broken-hearted there, Sammy." Dean laughed but he didn't sound happy. He sounded bitter; pissed off. Sam contemplated him.

"Why?" Sam put the phone on vibrate. "Why'd you forgive him, Dean? You were pissed at him long before he stole the knife."

"I forgave you." Dean said it fast and low.

Sam's eyes widened in surprise. The comment stung. "You sure about that?" Sam voice came out harsh. "Because everything's been normal for a while and then you throw everything back in my face."

Dean's face flushed with guilt. "Sam…"

Sam pushed his hand through his hair. He tried to let his anger drain out of him. He waited a moment until it was replaced with something else.

"I'm sorry. I just…I…" Sam sighed. "I deserve it, I guess."

Dean snorted. "Nah…" He reached over and patted him on the shoulder. "Just give me…time...for the forgetting." Dean grinned at him. "The end of days sucks." Dean rubbed his eyes, blinking at the car ahead.

"You haven't been sleeping." Sam peered at him.

Dean shrugged. "Been fighting heaven and hell, Sam."

Sam laid his cheek against the cool glass of the Impala window and glanced at his brother. Dean was quiet – staring straight ahead. He fidgeted under Sam's gaze, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"What?" His brother's voice rang in annoyance thirty seconds later.

"You started calling him Dad." Sam said.

Dean cut his eyes at him. "It's easier than 'hey you' or 'obsessed bastard'."

Sam was quiet for a few moments. Then he turned back to his brother. "He stole the knife. He took the journal. He split from us…"

"We were going to leave him, Sam." Dean cut in. And Sam wondered if Dean was actually defending the man now.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah. But, still, he would have left us anyway. And you let him off the hook. How come?"

Dean's eyebrows quirked in disbelief. "Me? You practically adopted the man the night he showed up."

"Dude, you hugged him."

"So did you!" Dean yelled.

"Technically, I was hugged by him." Sam pointed out. "You actively hugged back."

His brother sighed, clearly irritated. "What's your point, Sam."

"It just…you've been so pissed at the original. And then clone Dad shows up. And you're pissed at him. Then poof. You let it all go. Just like that. You're ready to play happy family. I don't get it, Dean. Why'd you forgive him? "

"I haven't."

Sam pulled up in surprise. He wasn't expecting that. "You haven't? Cause it really seems like you have, Dean."

Dean squinted at him and he whipped the car around a slow-moving Ford. "Why does it matter, Sam? You've been gung-ho about the twin since he popped up in that bar."

"And you were pissed."

"Okay. You're giving me crap now..." Dean turned to him, frustration evident in his tight expression. "Cause I'm not mad at him anymore? When you've been treating him like the second coming or something."

"I'm trying to understand, Dean."

The exasperation on his brother's face deepened. "People are going to do what they want to do, Sam. And you can either accept them or cut them out…" Dean paused. "So…he's stuck here. And I don't want to cut him out."

"But you haven't forgiven him?"

"I'm working on it." Dean frowned.

"Oh." Sam settled back in his seat. His heart started to vibrate. He glanced back down at the message. Ur a good kid. Anger seeped up into his chest. "I think I might hate him."

Dean scrunched his brows in confusion. "Yeah. I can tell. With all the messaging and giving him credit cards. Way to hold a grudge there, Sam."

Sam moved his eyes so he was watching the blur of scenery racing by the window. "I wanted to hurt him…when I told him about Adam." The admission left him feeling empty.

Dean was quiet. Sam knew he didn't like talking about any of it. His older brother's emotions were twisted on the subject. He felt guilty they didn't save the kid. Angry for not knowing about him. Jealous of his life. Sam sighed. But Dean wasn't mad about the way their dad had kept the kid in the dark. Dean told him after they'd burned the body that Adam was Dad's son and Dan had done good by him. Maybe it was petty and selfish, but Sam didn't feel that way. He hadn't escaped. Dean sure as hell hadn't escaped. Why should Adam get normal? Get that side of their dad. Not to mention he'd probably be alive if John had trained him. Sam sighed, loud and suffering. Shit. What type of person did that make him?

"He'd have found out sooner or later." Dean said cutting the silence. His brother paused and started laughing. And really. Dean needed to pull over and let Sam drive. Sam turned back to him.

"What's so funny?"

"Hell, Sam. You probably single handedly doomed the ghoul population in the lower forty-eight with that one."

"I guess…" Sam said. "So what does he text you about?"

Dean sighed. "I don't know, Sam. Stuff."

"Stuff like the nightmares?" Sam asked for two reasons. One, well, he wanted to know. And, two, he wanted to keep the jerk awake. He gauged his brother's reaction. Dean's face reddened. He gripped the stirring wheel tighter. Sam fought a grin. Dean was about to blow.

"YES." Dean's voice bellowed. "And stupid stuff like that last one." He pointed to Sam's phone.

Sam looked at the message. "The 'Ur a good kid'?" Sam bit his lip. "Huh."

"We done talking now?" Dean bit out.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "I don't know. You gonna pull over and let me drive?"

"Screw you, Sam."

Sam smiled at him. He shifted the phone from hand to hand, staring at it.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean's nostrils flared. "What. Sam." He gritted out.

Sam smirked, but then fell back into articulating his thoughts. "Why do you think he's doing it? The messaging? I mean…the hunting ones I get. But why the ones like the last one?"

Dean looked at him like he was stupid and shook his head.

"What?" Sam said.

"Sam." And damn Dean if he hadn't slipped into his 'I'm older and know so much more' than you voice. "We're screwed to hell here. Literally. Figuratively. Whatever." Dean turned to him. "He feels guilty. That's why he's sending that crap." He put his eyes back on the road.

"Huh." Sam tapped the phone. "You know. That doesn't mean he doesn't mean it."

"Maybe." Dean's lips twitched down. He rubbed his eyes and glared at Sam. "You're going to keep on talking, aren't you?" He pulled the car to the side of the road. The engine's rumble pattered off. Dean put his hand on the door handle. He turned to Sam and he cleared his throat. "But he's right about one thing." Dean turned away and spoke softly. "You are a good kid, Sammy."