October 3, 1997

They deserve a soft epilogue.

A cool October wind rustled the brown cornstalks in the neighbour’s field next to the long road that led to the Winchester ranch. The trees that lined the lane held onto their leaves in blazes of colour, red and orange and yellow. In the early autumn day, Dean wore a red knit sweater. It had a few loose threads at the collar and brown leather patches at the elbows. It belonged to Cas, technically, but Dean was subtly transferring ownership rights by wearing it almost every night when the weather cooled off.

Cas said that Dean didn’t have to go. That he didn’t owe John anything.

He was right, of course, but Dean couldn’t help being curious.

Dean parked his shiny black Impala next to Jody’s police cruiser. She leaned next to the open driver’s side door, speaking into the cruiser’s radio receiver. She wrapped up the conversation as Dean approached.

“Jody,” he said in greeting, exchanging a familiar nod.

“Good to see you again, Dean,” she said. “Thanks for meeting me. I wouldn’t have asked you if I could help it.”

Dean had seen a fair amount of Jody recently. The process of applying for Sam’s guardianship had been full of snags and challenges, but she’d backed him up whenever he got spooked or felt defeated. They’d granted him a temporary order a week ago, which she said was a good sign for him.

A bad one for John. Dean had no idea of what corner it spilled from, but word got out around town. Every now and then, Dean still got treated with a devastated look of sympathy that he could’ve done without.

“You were pretty mysterious over the phone,” said Dean. “What’s up?”

Jody took a moment to think before she spoke, folding her arms, her jacket puffing up around her. “John went on a hunting trip,” she said. “And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Dean used to be accustomed to John’s absences. He glanced at the house, then back at Jody. “And?”

“Well, he’s the kind of missing person no one really misses,” said Jody. “Except the man he hired to look after the horses. When the guy didn’t get paid as promised, he gave us a call.”

“Are the horses okay?” Dean asked.

“He’s been coming back to feed them,” said Jody. “Says he’s going to make John pay him double for the extra days. He’s a rough type, out-of-towner. Just about the only person who’d work for John, these days. But he’s shown up for the sake of the horses so far.”

“Have you seen them?”

“What few are left. They’re in the stable. Most of the rest were sold.”

It wasn’t quite news to Dean. He’d heard John started selling aggressively to buyers all over the state. Bobby said there were hardly any horses out in John’s pastures these days.

“Have you been in the house?” Dean asked.

Jody nodded once. “Not for long,” she said. “What we call an ‘exigent circumstances check’ to rule out suspicious activity. No notes, no clues.”

No body, thought Dean.

“Why’d you call me?” Dean asked.

“First of all, I wondered if you had any insight about if this is in any way unusual, or where he could’ve gone,” said Jody.

Dean chewed his lower lip, looking around the familiar yard. The barn, the house, the empty paddocks.

“You said he was selling off horses?” said Dean. “Can I go in and see?”

“Well,” said Jody, standing up from against the car. “That might be another reason I called you. Without foul play, there isn’t enough cause for a warrant. People can go off on vacations or benders and it’s not against the law.”

Dean understood. “My driver’s licence still says I live here,” he said. It had been a point of contention in his guardianship. He had to clear up his proof of address to get permanent custody, and as it stood, he was in a murky in-between stage. “I can give you permission.”

Jody shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not particularly invested in that,” she said. “I’ve seen all I need to. But you can go wherever you want.”

“I’m gonna check on those horses,” said Dean.

Dean slid the stable door open. It wasn’t as smooth as it had been, something caught in the tracks. He always looked after things like that.

The hired man hadn’t had the decency to turn out the horses today, or hadn’t for long, leaving them in the gloomy stable. It was clean, but minimally so. Most of the stalls were empty.

Dean knew where each horse belonged. Most of the ones that were missing were good dams who bred good foals. They were worth something; much more than what some seedy kill farm would offer. Springsteen, he could’ve gone for a high price. He had ribbons to win in his future. And gentle Fleetwood, any new rider would be lucky to have her.

Even if John took a low price, Dean could tot up the numbers to a fair chunk of change.

Two of the horses that had been left behind were older, nearly done their life as broodmares. Zeppelin’s dam remained as well, and Dean stroked her soft nose. In a larger stall, Velvet and her late-June foal remained together. He wouldn’t have been able to separate them, and maybe found it inconvenient to sell them as a pair.

Jody waited at the end of the stable aisle, not entering. Dean walked back to her.

“He’s got money,” said Dean. “He’s essentially sold off the family business.”

“You don’t think he plans to come back?” said Jody.

“He’d want to sell the land,” said Dean. “It’s worth… well, diamonds, in my opinion. You’d think he’d have lined that up.”

“He doesn’t have to be here to sell,” said Jody. “Would you ever take it?”

The question caught Dean by the heart. He swallowed and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I loved this place. But that house?” He looked towards it. “I could never go back. Even without him.”

“You won’t go in?” said Jody.

“What would I find?” said Dean.

“A lot of empties,” she said candidly. “A smashed-up TV—collecting dust, not recent. Piles of dishes on the counters and in the sink. It’s not… homey. But I’ve seen worse in my work.”

“Then I don’t need to see it,” said Dean.

“There was mail for you,” said Jody. “On the table by the door.”

Dean took in a steadying breath. He didn’t know if it was worth it. He never got much mail, apart from competitions and farm associations. The letters might be from friends who wrote, though. Like Benny, like Lee. He’d hate to miss them.

“If I could’ve grabbed it for you, I would,” said Jody. “But I’m already toeing the line here.”

“I’m surprised it’s still there,” said Dean.

Had John hoped he’d come home? Had John regretted any of it? They’d parted with such bitter finality. Dean undermined his relationship with Kate, with Sam, with everybody in town. There could be no love left in John for him.

And if there was, it wasn’t enough. Dean had nothing to gain in giving John the time.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. “But what do you make of all this, Jody? Do you think something happened?”

“Well,” said Jody, chewing the inside of her cheek. “‘Hunting trip’ for a man who’s not supposed to have firearms is a funny little concept. What’s he using? Bow and arrow?”

No access to firearms was one of the few consequences of John’s sentencing. Twenty-four hours in jail—a total joke—and a fine. Not exactly a vindication. But the conviction was enough to grant Dean reasonable justification for Sam’s guardianship. That was all he needed.

Jody shook her head. “I think he was planning on leaving town,” she said. “He hasn’t got much in the way of friends around here.”

“You should contact some people in Windom, Minnesota,” said Dean. “My little brother is there. Half-brother. Adam and Kate Milligan. I don’t want Dad going anywhere near him.”

“They have restraining orders?” she asked.

“I’m pretty sure,” said Dean. He’d called Kate a second time, providing her with a clinical, informative update about the trial. He let her know that he’d like it if Adam called sometimes, if Adam wanted to. A couple of days ago, he’d wished Adam a happy sixth birthday over the phone.

“I’ll see what I can find out,” said Jody, taking out her notepad and writing it down. She looked back into the stable, eyeing up the remaining horses.

She pursed her lips for a moment. “I do have to say, it looks like unfinished business.”

“Can I stick around for a bit?” said Dean. “I want to take out the horses. They need exercised and it doesn’t look like they’re getting enough.”

“I’ll put the hired man in touch with you,” said Jody. “But if there’s any sign of trouble, you don’t wait around to talk things over. You get out. Understood?”

“Understood,” Dean promised.

“I’ll reach out if this becomes a case or if we hear word about John. Stay safe, Dean.”

“Jody? Thanks.”

---

Theirs was the last Fall Fair of the season. As everyone made sure to note, small towns always did them best. Teenagers and adolescents ruled the midway with excitable screams and laughter, the marquee lights glowing against the night. The air smelled like hay, like the cut crops being judged for height and size, like the handmade soaps and woodcrafts in the arena’s small exhibition hall. (Ellen refused point-blank to let Dean enter a pumpkin pie in her name in the baking competition. She had a reputation to uphold.)

In the crowded beer tents, music played over the lifted speakers and people danced on a floor made of plywood that wouldn’t last the weekend.

Dean was too young to gain admittance, but he thought less of the crowd before him than of the gay rodeo Cesar once described. Where you could dance with your real partner and it was something beautiful.

Dean had always liked dancing.

Cas, against all expectation, had been talked into visiting the beer tents after work with a few of the local livestock owners who had taken a shine to him, despite Cas not being from ‘around here.’ Dean paced the outside of the gate till he spotted Cas in his puffy blue and red vest and caught his eye, giving a half-wave. Cas excused himself from his picnic table, formally shaking hands goodbye with a few of the men.

Only Cas, Dean thought with a roll of his eyes.

When Cas came out, Dean kept his hands in the pockets of his jacket. It was easier not to reach out that way. They walked side-by-side, close enough not to garner attention. Dean led them slowly towards the midway area, where crowds thrilled and the air smelled like buttered popcorn.

“What did Jody want?” Cas asked.

“My dad might’ve skipped town,” said Dean. “She wanted to ask my opinion, let me check on the horses. Most are sold, but the others— They might be my first rescues, who knows?”

“Once we have the place,” Cas said. “To put the rescues.”

“Details,” said Dean.

There were a few properties that had come up lately that he and Cas had looked at. Bobby had already insisted on providing a loan for the down payment, wherever they ended up. Dean knew what he wanted: private but near enough to town for Cas; a barn they could stable a few horses in for now, but likely improve on with time; a farmhouse with a big and bright kitchen and room for Sam to stay.

“Jody didn’t think it was anything nefarious?” said Cas.

“No, but. He was supposed to be out hunting. No idea where. There could’ve been an accident, which would mean… But she thought it was likelier he left.”

“Do we know where Bobby is? Because if he needs an alibi…”

“That’s not funny,” said Dean, laughing. He pushed against Cas with his arm.

“If he’s left town, then…” Cas shrugged. “Can’t say he’ll be missed.”

Dean grinned. They passed under the lights of an entranceway but bypassed the ticket booth. “That’s what Jody said.”

“You okay?” Cas asked, and he looked at Dean carefully for the answer.

Dean nodded, briefly biting on his lower lip. “It’s complicated, but… Hey. So is everything with me.” He dug his hands deeper into his pockets, resisting the urge to reach for Cas.

“Y’know,” said Dean. “There was some mail for me that I never got.” He looked up from the well-worn ground below their feet. “One from almost three weeks ago that— I clean forgot the results would be sent there.”

Cas frowned and tipped his head.

Dean smiled again. “I got my GED.”

Cas took in a breath and held back words for a moment, lifting his chin. When he spoke it was with a carefully lowered voice. “How dare you,” he said, “tell me here where I can’t kiss you.”

Dean only smiled wider. “Guess it’ll have to wait. Collect interest.”

“I couldn’t be more interested,” said Cas. “I thought that would be clear by now.”

Although Cas was impatient to get home, Dean made him stop frequently. Dean bought a bright red candy apple. He elbowed Cas to play a milk bottle game, exempting himself because his throwing arm was still too stiff to be any good. Dean didn’t expect Cas to have any talent for it, but privately thought he sometimes loved Cas more when he wasn’t good at something.

Cas picked up the ball that was offered to him and tossed it in his hand once, assessing its weight and balance. Then he angled his body, pulled back his arm, and threw with no fanfare. The ball curved into the bottom bottles and sent the tower crashing to the ground. Dean paused in his chewing with a mouthful of apple and candy in his molars.

Theory disproved. Cas was actually much sexier when he was insanely competent.

They returned to the Impala not long after that. Dean switched on one of his favourite tapes. He reached across the seat of the Impala and took Cas’ hand.

At the cottage, a breeze blew the fronds of the willow tree, silver in the night. While the air cooled outside, the cottage kept in the warmth. Dean flicked on the lowest level of lights inside, enough to draw out the cosy gleam of the wood furnishings. He took off the jacket and his red sweater, left in a white t-shirt. Cas tried to lean in for a kiss, but caught the corner of Dean’s jaw mid-turn instead; Dean reached back to find Cas’ hand, pulling him along to the kitchen.

“What about the interest?” Cas said.

“I was thinking something,” said Dean, turning on the radio. It was set to a station currently playing one of Ladyheart’s overdone hair rock songs. Dean slid the tuner over, finding the next station he could pick up. Talk-radio. The next was Spanish. Then he came to one playing a song he recognised, already a few bars in.

“Okay, okay,” Dean said. Cas had crowded against his body like he couldn’t wait the ten extra seconds Dean took to find the right music. “That’s it. We’re dancing to ‘Wichita Lineman.’”

“What?” Cas asked, like both the song and the concept of dancing were new to him.

“C’mere,” said Dean, positioning Cas’ hand where he wanted it around his back. It pulled their bodies close. This near, Cas’ shoulders and chest seemed broader. Dean wasn’t small, but the way that Cas’ hand spanned across his spine made his breath catch. Like a lariat wrapped around him, only Cas was strong enough to hold him together.

Dean took up his other hand. Cas’ fingers wrapped around the edge of Dean’s, self-certain and steady in this, at least. Dean used his arm as the guide that made Cas start to sway.

“I never got to dance with you,” Dean explained. “At the Stampede.”

“Oh,” said Cas, and his arm became marginally more pliable around Dean.

Dean could feel him thinking. Like he wanted study notes to follow. He was a natural at taking down milk bottles, but dancing wasn’t something he understood. Not a skill that it would be any kind of trial to teach, though. Dean brought their bodies closer, let his nose nuzzle close to Cas’ ear. It was, after all, not so unlike sex. That was the whole point.

And then the singer crooned, ‘And I need you more than want you,’ and Cas loosened. The line followed, ‘And I want you for all time.’

“Oh,” said Cas again, like everything had become clear at once. The music, the dancing.

He held Dean closer so that Dean’s heart beat against Cas’ ribs. He slid his cheek against Dean’s, buried his nose in his hair. Their joined hands nestled at their chests and the circle they moved in became closer and smaller and more intimate.

“You’re a good dancer,” said Dean.

“I don’t think that’s true,” said Cas.

“Well I like dancing with you,” said Dean. “Which is the same thing.”

“You have all the answers,” said Cas. “I don’t know why I try.”

“Not nearly,” said Dean. “The future… I have no idea what’s going to come. I’m always in one mess or another.”

“That won’t always be the case,” said Cas.

“And where we’ll live, how we’ll live?” Dean pressed Cas’ hand in his own. “There’s a lot I wish I knew.”

“Well,” said Cas. “I like figuring it out with you.”

Dean smiled, heart coming to rest in those words. He didn’t know where they’d end up, but he’d already found home. He brushed his nose against Cas’ then took that long-promised kiss.