Master Post

Six months ago the world didn't end. Sam wasn't smote. Dean didn't get sent back to Hell when Heaven was done with him. They'd been left to retire in peace, which, for a hunter, just meant that they had to find a respectable way to earn a living and try not to get noticeably twitchy at every flash of movement in their periphery or whenever a lightbulb burned out.

They'd returned to Lawrence on the basis that it was good enough for their parents so it would be good enough for them. They managed to get an apartment for six hundred dollars a month at 6th and Minnesota Streets – the previous tenants had left behind a few pots and pans, a coffee pot, microwave, and a threadbare couch that might have once been blue but now seemed more gray. Sam quickly introduced Dean to Craigslist, and soon they actually had mattresses, a perfectly decent television as long as you ignored the black line running near the bottom of the screen, and one day Dean came back to find Sam installing blinds and curtains. It was a lot to take in at first – Dean hadn't had his own bedroom since he was four. The word “home” rolled off his tongue strangely, a tongue that could spout off an exorcism in Latin like it was his first language, but he was adjusting.

Sam got a job at the Lawrence Public Library and was looking into how his Stanford credits would transfer to KU. They also had the best law program in the state, if he was still interested, but Sam said that he wasn't sure at the moment. Dean told him he'd make a great lawyer – cross-examining would be nothing compared to facing down demons.

It took a bit longer for Dean to find work, but it had taken him longer to steel himself when he saw a Help Wanted sign on the notice board at the supermarket for Guenther's Garage. It took him two weeks to walk into the office, palms sweaty, and Mike had taken a moment to recognize him, but it wasn't for whom he really was. He told Dean that he still hadn't heard from John Winchester and couldn't believe they were still looking for him, more than five years after they'd first talked to him. Dean introduced himself as who he really was, told Mike that they'd found their father and he'd died a few months after they'd talked to Mike, and then asked him for a job. Mike cut himself off in the middle of asking about Dean's experience as he seemed to notice for the first time the black Impala parked just outside, saying there was no way that could be the same car, and when Dean insisted it was, saying she runs better than new, Mike gave him the job, sold that if Dean had kept the Impala working for the last so many years, he must have been a damned fine mechanic, just like his old man.

Soon after Sam found out that KU would accept all of his credits to transfer – he could start in January if he was still interested. Dean had practically ordered him to sign the acceptance forms, and when Sam said he could go to school part-time and still work, Dean shot down that idea. They'd lived on much less, and if it really bothered him, he could work on weekends. This was finally their opportunity to live normal lives, and Dean wasn't going to let Sam blow it because he wanted to feel like he was carrying his share.

They settled into a normal life quite well, Dean thought, until returning from the liquor store one evening to Sam staring at the television, enrapt in the news story unfolding before him. “Sammy?” Dean asked, feeling a sense of unease in the pit of his stomach. “What's going on?”

Sam silently motioned for his brother to stop talking, turning up the volume as a grave-faced woman appeared on the screen, standing on a pier somewhere that looked much warmer than Kansas, and spoke directly to the camera. “For those of you just joining us, we have breaking news about the cruise ship that went missing nearly a week ago. The Notos, a five hundred and seventy foot long ship of the Albatross Adventures' fleet, left Bermuda en route back to St. Augustine last Thursday with a scheduled arrival of Saturday afternoon, was found yesterday adrift about four hundred miles north of Puerto Rico. The fate of the passengers was unknown until the information was released to the press today: nine hundred and seventy five crew and passengers were found dead. The cause is still unknown, but the authorities hope that the one surviving passenger will be able to help shed some light on this very grim situation. The passenger, whose name has not yet been released, is being kept in quarantine as a bioweapon or any of the serious contaminants associated with cruise ships is being ruled out. Lieutenant Miller of the Jacksonville US Coast Guard reported that the survivor's family has been notified, but until he has been stabilized and blood tests run, no one will be allowed contact. The survivor is said to be under extreme duress, repeating over and over that there was nothing he could do to stop it.”

Walking over to the television, Dean stabbed his finger sharply at the power button, unwilling to hear anymore. “Shit,” he swore. The thing about being key players in preventing the Apocalypse was an acquired six sense about the supernatural. Dean didn't need to hear anymore to confirm his suspicions, and clearly neither did Sam, but they'd never heard of anything with a death toll this high before. “How would you feel about taking a week or two off and heading down to Florida?”

“We're supposed to be done, Dean. Castiel said that was the only way to ensure our safety.”

“From demons, sure, but not everything out there is going to play by the rules. A lot of people died on that boat, Sam – who's to say that won't happen again? If it's a curse, we can break it; a ghost we can stop; and you're the only person I know that can banish demons back to Hell.” Dean clenched his jaw, sitting on the arm of the couch to face his brother. “We don't have to get involved in everything, but this is huge, and you know it.”

“I'm just ready for it all to be over, to move on with our lives. Everyone in our family died because of that job, Dean, including us! I'm sure we could call Bobby and he could let someone else know, assuming there isn't already someone down there. That many people dead is going to be news all over the world. Someone else can handle it.” Sam pressed his lips together tightly. “We have to move on with our lives,” he repeated, though Dean could tell it was more for Sam's own sake than his.

“You can't tell me you've moved on when I know you still sleep with a gun under your pillow. Let's not also forget the plastic tubing we filled with rock salt and lined the interior walls of this place with.” He looked up at it, nestled between where the walls met the ceiling. “You start school in two months – let's just use our vacation time before the year runs out and head down there. If it turns out to be something, we'll take care of it, and that'll be it. If it turns out to be nothing, well, we're stuck in Florida for two weeks. That sound like something you can work with?”

Sam thought this over for a minute, Dean imagining the gears turning in his head. “If there's other hunters there already, we're backing off.”

“I can work with that,” Dean nodded, and he really could – most of the other hunters they'd ever worked with had ended up dead, some just by association. “Maybe after we could drive down to Daytona and pick up some drunk coeds.”

“Spring Break isn't until March, Dean.”

“Evil son of a bitch has a lousy sense of timing,” Dean grumbled lightly as he rose of the sofa, heading through the kitchen to put the beer in the fridge before heading back to his room to pack up the duffle bag that, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he wasn't living out of and would need to dig out from the bottom of the closet.

He knew Sam had a point – if they started getting involved again, who was to say they would ever stop? But this was a lot of people who had died needlessly, making that plane crash in Pennsylvania all those years ago, after the first time Dean had dragged Sam out of his normal life, seem like small potatoes. He wanted out as much as Sam did – had wanted out long before the deal he made for Sam's life – but if this were to repeat itself, Dean couldn't have that on his conscience.

Six months after the world didn't end, they were going to Florida.

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Epilogue