Here it is. The last ever add to this story. It could be considered a timestamp I guess.

This is the boys' escape. With a little bit of fluff in it because my creativity got away with me. It's not a huge escape. Nothing daring or too incredibly exciting. Just pure luck. Something that is rarely on the side of the Winchesters. But hey, sometimes life gives them a break. Just one little chance to make it out alive.

Having said that, enjoy, lovelies. It's been fun. :)

The Secret Life of Sam and Dean

"Hey, Dean?"


"What if we're ever stuck somewhere and you're hurt and I can't get us out because I'm so small and you're too heavy and a monster ends up killing us?"

Silence. Then, "When will I ever let that happen?"

"You aren't invincible, Dean."

"I won't ever let myself get hurt if you're vulnerable."

"You can't choose that kind of stuff." The eye roll in Sam's voice can be heard. Dean wonders if he'll ever grow out of it. He doubts it.

Sam's ready to die. He really is. He's accepted it. So when it doesn't happen… it takes him a second to register that. The blast of all of the explosives is deafening. But… the ceiling doesn't crush them. Instead, the building seems to crumble in a way that leaves for them a way out. Sam lifts his head, looking around in awe when the blasts are all over.

The ceiling has crumbled more. The building above them is still moving. Slowly falling apart in its destruction. The fire crackles above them, smoke starts to lead down where they are trapped. But… they aren't trapped anymore. A part of the wall that had collapsed with the blast fell enough to open a gap a few feet up one of the walls. Being on the ground floor means no explosives were down here. All of the leviathans had been extracted to the floor above. Instead, it created a safe haven. Sam huffs out a laugh.

Looking down to Dean's closed eyes, he sighs, hand going to his brother's pulse just to give him peace of mind. But he already knows what's wrong. Concussion. Whatever sliced his brother's face had also hit him hard enough to create the bruise that is slowly starting to spread across his brother's forehead. Dean had stopped singing when the blast went off. It seems his body finally gave out on him sometime between then and now. Great.

"Good timing Dean," he huffs. He looks around, noticing more and more smoke making its way into their haven. Listens to the ceiling creak. The fire crackles above. The heat is getting closer. He decides it's time to get out of here. He gently moves his brother's head from his lap.


"Shut up."

"Put me down!"

"You know what this is?"

"Child abuse?"

An amused snort. "No. It's called a fireman's carry."

"Great. Now put me down."

"Are you paying attention?"

"All of the blood is rushing to my head, Dean."

"All the better to think with."

"… Wow. You actually said something intelligent."

"I can drop you on your head, you know."

"Whatever. Put me down."

"This is a fireman's carry. The easiest way to carry someone. Your whole body will always be stronger than just your arms."

"Great. Now put me down."

A huge sigh. "Fine."

"What… where are you going?"

"That's the last time I ever try to teach you how to rescue us."

Slowly maneuvering his brother over his shoulders, he grimaces at the thought of sending more blood to his brother's head with the huge gash there to let it all out. But… this is the only way he'll be able to get them out of here quick enough. So with one strong heave, his brother is on his shoulders and he's stumbling towards the opening in the wall.

The ceiling keeps creaking, but Sam can tell they're going to make it before it collapses. He can't keep his balance with his brother on his shoulders to climb over the rest of the wall that's still standing. Slowly easing his brother outside the hole in the wall, he struggles to keep said brother from getting hurt on anything sharp or hard while doing so. In the process, his arm is the casualty.

His hand instantly releases his brother as a searing pain suddenly races up his arm. Letting out a string of curses, he leans against the wall and cradles his arm to him. "Great. Just great," he hisses. For a frightening moment, he thinks he's going to pass out. Blood is pouring from his arm and the pain is incredible. In a desperate move, he pulls his last remaining shirt off and ties it around his arm. His good arm and mouth pull it tight with a hiss let out through his teeth at the sharp spark of pain.

He gives himself a second to recover before reaching up to the side of the gap in the wall to pull himself up a little with his good arm. Stepping on the bottom of the gap, he does a tuck and roll out of the burning building to avoid stepping on his brother and anything else sharp that may be protruding from the destroyed wall. A quick check of his brother shows he avoided letting anything happen to him.

But now there's the problem of trying to get him on his back with one arm. The hand of the arm that was cut barely has any grip. The cut made it too deep. Hopefully not deep enough to never get the use of his hand back, but it is deep enough that it's going to take a long time to heal. So now he has no means of carrying his brother. Great.

"So… what if I'm hurt and can't carry you?" It's a desperate attempt. To show his appreciation for being taught.

A weary sigh.

"Sorry." It's mumbled. "I just…"

"I don't have all the answers, Sammy." It's said with such… disappointment.

"I know that. But… it never hurts to be prepared, right?"

A snort. "Why are you so sure we're going to be trapped and you'll have to carry me but won't be able to anyway?"

"I'm so small," he mumbles. "I just… don't want to let you down."

"C'mere, kiddo." Arm wraps around shoulders. "You won't ever let me down. You hear? People make mistakes. People have weaknesses. But I know you'll do your best. You'll do what you have to. Besides, you'll get taller. Stronger. You might even be as tall as me someday."

"You think so?"

"Well sure. I don't see why not."

"What if I get taller than you?" Teasing now. Letting go of worry for today.

A chuckle. "Never. I'm the big brother."

Somehow, with a lot of patience and maneuvering, he gets his brother over one of his shoulders. His bad arm wraps around his brother's legs. Hold them to his chest. It makes his arm burn. It's excruciating. But it's what he has to do. His other hand moves around to pull an arm over and hold it. In all, he's carrying his brother. It hurts, it's extremely difficult, and it's tiring, but it works.

When he's ten feet away, the entire building collapses. He doesn't turn around. Just smirks to himself. Once again, they made it out just in time. Story of their life.

It's only a minute later that he hears a quiet voice. "As attractive as you may think your ass is, I'd rather be on my feet."

Sam grins, kneeling down to set his brother's feet on the ground. He doesn't move as he feels his brother use his shoulders for leverage to stand up. He keeps still while Dean leans on him, watching his brother's face as he fights off the obvious dizzy spell. When Dean finally opens his eyes again, he stands.

Dean blinks at Sam's naked chest, looking up in confusion. "Any reason why you aren't wearing a shirt?"

Sam holds out his arm.

Dean frowns, wincing afterwards from the movement of his face, but still reaches for Sam's arm.

Sam pulls it back. "Try not to make too many facial expressions," he warns, a little amused. "The cut on your face is a nasty one."

Dean nods, motioning with his hand for Sam to give him his arm.

With a sigh, Sam complies. "We can't worry about this right now."

"Shut up."

"Why don't you ever worry about yourself?"


"Why don't you ever worry about yourself?"

"What are you talking-?"

"You always freak out when I'm hurt. But when you're hurt, you don't seem to care."

"I have to take care of you."

"You have to take care of yourself too, Dean."

"You come first."

"But… can you do me a favor?"

Huge sigh. "What, Sam?"

"Worry about yourself. For me. So I know you're not going to do anything stupid and I don't have to worry enough for the both of us."

Silence. Then, "Okay, Sammy."

"Thanks, Dean."

"That doesn't look good. And I don't feel so great. How about we get out of here?"

Sam nods.

Dean starts off.


Dean looks to him inquisitively out of his one good eye. "What?"

"Can… can we just go to the cabin?"

Dean blinks that one good eye, a hundred thoughts going through his head. In a second, he sees exactly what Sam wants. A quiet life after this. No one knowing them. No one bothering them. Just the two of them up in their cabin. No pressure. No one looking to them to fix anything. They've done their part. Everyone else can help put the continent back together. If they just leave now, disappear, they're dead. No one knows what they look like outside this camp. They can disappear.

Dean looks to Sam, good side of his face turning up into a smile. "That's the best idea you've ever had, Sammy."

Then the Winchesters do something they hope is for the last time. They head home. The water tower, the burning building, the people, all disappear behind them. It's time to go home.

"Hey, Dean?"


"Do you think we'll ever have a home?"

An inquisitive look.

"I mean a real home. One we don't have to leave."

"Oh. Of course. You know we will. Like dad says, after we kill the thing that killed mom. We'll have our own house, picket fence and all. We could even get a dog."

A bright smile. "Really?"

A chuckle. "Of course. You and me. We'll get a dog and name him something so normal and lame like Fido."

A happy laugh. Something that seems rare these days. "I don't think I've even heard of a real dog named Fido."

"Well ours will be."

It's silent for a few minutes. The stars above them are bright. The hood of the car is cool beneath them from the night air but neither are cold. They lay too close to be. Touching from shoulder to foot. Like always.

"Do you promise?"


"That we'll have a house."

"Of course. Why not?"

"It just… seems hard to believe."

"Well I promise. Someday we'll have our own house."

"And Fido."

"And Fido."

It takes them a few weeks to get home. Because with Dean's face that constantly needs medical supply searches, and Sam's arm that seems to be completely useless, they take detours. They get medicine, stitches, bandages, food, and other supplies. They do eventually find a supply of gas that Dean fills a can with. They pick up the impala, staying in the lockup for a day while Dean fills her with gas and gives her a tune up so she'll actually run after almost a year of being left here. After spreading his arms wide and laying face down on the hood to give her a hug much to Sam's amusement. Then they start the last leg of their journey home.

Pulling up to the edge of the woods where Dean knows the drive is, he stops and looks at how it's grown over. It's bad, but not bad enough to keep the impala out. He looks over to Sam. "Well… looks like we'll just have to deal with it. What's a few more scratches? I have the rest of our lives to fix her up now."

Sam grins.

So Dean drives her right through the brush. All the way to the cabin. He cringes a little, sure, but it's as he said. He has the rest of their lives to fix it. He still lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when they finally make it to the clearing.

The grass is long. There are branches all over the yard. The cabin looks a little more run down than it used to. But the windows and doors are still boarded up. That's a good sign. To anyone else, the place would look ominous. Abandoned. To them, it looks like home.

They lean against the car for a while. Just looking at it. Dean's arms crossed over the top, chin resting on them. Sam leaning back against the door he just closed to cross his feet. His hand rests on the hood next to him, the hand of his bad arm supported in his pocket.

"This what you always pictured?"

Sam shakes his head, looking back over his shoulder at Dean. "It's better."

Dean smiles, watching Sam's hand as he turns back to look at the cabin. How it pats the hood of the car in a silent goodbye. And thanks. For being their home for all of these years. But now they have a real one. All theirs. He stays where he is for a little longer. Leaning on the impala as he watches Sam walk up to the cabin. Wonders if this is what he had pictured when he thought of settling down. He decides he doesn't care.

Sam looks over his shoulder. "Coming?"

Dean smiles. Pats the top of the car in his own silent goodbye. "Absolutely. We have a lot of house cleaning to do."

Sam smiles brightly back at him.

"Hey, Dean?"


"Remember when you promised we'd have a house?"

A punch to the gut would have been nicer. Staring at his brother, not having enough breath to answer, he watches as Sam just stares back.

Then, oh God, he speaks again. "And when you promised I'd never let you down?"

"You haven't," he chokes out.

"Then why does it feel like that's what you think?" is the quiet question.

Neither speak for a while. It's still dark. Light should be coming soon though. Right now… it's the stars above. Like it's always been. And every time, he'd made promises. On the hood of the car. Under the stars. A beer in both of their hands when he finally let Sam have one. He vows that when… no… IF they ever do that again, he's never saying a word.

Right now, he wants to say so much. That they could have a house someday. If he didn't leave. That he wasn't letting him down. That he's so incredibly proud of his little brother. For getting into Stanford. For standing up to dad. For being brave enough to want to leave and face the world alone. For everything. But he doesn't.

The town is still silent in the early morning. So it's easy to hear when the bus arrives. Neither are brave enough to say anything more until it stops. The doors open. Sam takes a step towards the stairs, shouldering his bag.


Sam freezes, debating before turning.

Dean walks up and pulls him into his arms. "You'll have your home someday," he murmurs. "Even if it isn't ours. Even if there's no picket fence or a dog named Fido. Even if you have to fight to get there. You'll get it. I promise."

Sam hugs him back just as tight. Doesn't say anything. But he knows, even though it hasn't happened yet, that Dean has never made a broken promise.

*Gives a farewell bow* Thank you for the lovely comments throughout. And for all of your support. And comments months or years from now will still be appreciated, new readers. :) I would love to know what everyone thinks, whether the story is done or not. But for the last time, thanks you guys. It's been fun writing my first Supernatural story. Oneshots will resume until a new muse has caught my fancy. So check out my other writings.

Keep calm and Carry on. Season 8 will be here before you know it.