A glance at Nimue's watch would confirm the time as being around 8pm, though there was little else to prompt the shift between day and night in this dark future. She caught Dean's eye, seeing the vague uncertainty, and smiled. "You wanted a normal day," she reminded him quietly, hugging the story-book to her chest as she watched Sammy tugging on Dean's hand. "Daddy always put Sammy to bed." And yes, there was a touch of that pained sorrow in her eyes as she offered this up, but her smile wiped it away. One last normal day for Sammy was the best gift Dean could possibly have given them.

Dean looked from Nimue to the small boy whose equally small hand had slipped so easily into his. He wasn't sure what their bedtime ritual involved, but he'd tucked his brother into bed more times than he could remember. On impulse, Dean let go of Sammy's hand and leaned over to easily sweep the little boy up into his arms, tucking him against him, as if he weighed next to nothing. "Time for bed, Sammy. Say goodnight to your mother," he told him, though he'd already done that.

As Sammy wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, Nimue threw him a bone, mouthing and gesturing that all he had to do was tuck the little boy under the blankets and leave the nightlight on. She watched as Sammy twisted, flailing his teddy in her direction obediently. "Night, Momma."

Up the stairs the pair of them went - father and son - to the room Dean had found himself not more than a day or so ago, the room he now knew was his future son's bedroom. There were so many questions still muddling up his brain, so many things he didn't understand. How had it all gone so horribly wrong" It wasn't just because of his death. There was more to it than that. He was going to have to memorize everything Nim had written down warning him of things to come to make sure those events didn't come to pass.

"Does your bear have a name or do you just call him Teddy?" Dean asked as he carried the little boy up to his room.

Sleepy, the little boy took a moment to answer. It wasn't every day your dad came back from the dead; in honor of it, he'd been allowed to stay up much later than usual, and even skip his nap. He was exhausted. Hugging the bear closer, he blinked blearily at Dean. "S'called Cas," he sniffed thoughtfully, rubbing the bear's face against his cheek. "'Cos he's always there."

Dean's heart lurched for just a moment when he heard that name come from his son's lips. Cas....His Cas" he wondered. The angel who'd freed him from hell and become like a second brother to him' That Cas" "It's a good name," Dean remarked, not missing the irony in the boy's statement, wondering if it was his future self who'd helped name his son's bedtime companion, wishing it was true and that Cas was still there. What would he think of this" Dean wondered. "Did I ever tell you about him' Who your bear is named for?" Dean asked, curiously, as he made his way down the hallway and into Sammy's bedroom.

The little boy shook his head, rubbing at his eye wearily. As much as he wanted to stay up and spend some mroe time with Dean, Sammy had been brought up sensible. He knew he needed to go to bed, despite his reluctance. "Jus' that it's his name."

Dean would have prolonged bedtime as long as he could; he would have prolonged this day as long as he could, but little boys got tired eventually, and this little boy was obviously sleepy. Dean stepped into the room where he'd first arrived and looked around as if seeing it for the very first time. It was ordinary enough, as far as nurseries went, the only window in the room carefully covered so that no sound or light could get into or out of the room. He wasn't sure why the boy was still in a crib. Maybe it was one of those things they had planned on doing before everything went to hell. Very carefully, Dean lowered the little boy into the safety of his crib and tucked a blanket around him, making sure "Cas" was close by to keep his little one safe.

Dean lingered, unsure what their routine was, though Nim had hinted that it was simple enough. His leaned over and brushed a kiss against the boy's forehead, followed by a tender trail of fingertips through his hair, his throat tightening as he watched the angel of a child drift peacefully to sleep. What kind of monster would want to hurt such an innocent life as this" He felt a swell of anger tighten his chest at the unfairness and injustice of it all. Where the hell was God in all this" Didn't he care about his children at all" He clenched his jaw, forcing that anger away for now. There would come a time when he'd need it, but that time was not now. He stroked the boy's cheek once more and whispered a final parting. "Goodnight, Sammy. Always remember I love you."

The green eyes that had first greeted him with solemn curiosity when he had arrived in this moment of time blinked slowly once, twice, and closed, the small face going slack in slumber even as a small voice piped up in a dreamy slur. "G'nigh', Daddy." Sammy twisted onto his side, arms wrapping about Cas the bear as he smiled, content and happy to be laid to sleep by his father, even if this was all he was going to get.

Dean hovered a moment longer, watching his future son while he slept, so peaceful and innocent, heartsore at having to leave him and angry at his future self for allowing this to happen, however unintentionally. He watched as the boy's breathing became soft and even, wondering what he was dreaming about, if he dreamed at all. Quietly, he flicked on the nightlight, remembering how his brother had insisted on one for so many years and Dean, not wanting to admit that the dark scared him as much as it did Sam, had never denied it. He glanced back at the sleeping boy, heart filled with longing, before heading toward the hallway, pausing in the doorway and turning toward him one last time.

"Please, God....If you're listening, if you even still exist....Please keep him safe. Please let me fix things so he never has to know this future. Please." Dean's voice broke as he pleaded with God, as he had so many times before, not really expecting anything, but hoping for so much.

He stood there for a long moment as he struggled to compose himself, not wanting to bring this sadness upon Nimue who was waiting for him downstairs. He wanted to bring a smile to her face, not tears to her eyes, though his own heart felt like it was breaking. He rubbed his face with a hand, scrubbing his own tears from his face, and drawing a deep breath to compose himself, before pulling the door slowly closed, leaving it open a crack both so that he and Nim could keep an ear open for any sounds of danger but so that the boy would be comforted by the low voices of his parents as they kept vigil over their son. Quietly, he crept down the hallway, the smell of the little boy lingering - the clean, innocent smell of youth - back down the stairs to rejoin Nim in the living room.

She wasn't in the living room, however. In her mind, the day had been about Sammy, about giving the boy one last good memory before Dean had to leave them behind. Now Sammy was in bed and asleep, it was time to turn attention back toward getting Dean safely back to his own time and space, and that meant research. The flicker of candlelight out onto the hallway betrayed that she had moved from one room to the other, leaning over the open books to scan the writings, seeking out what linked each section he had already marked as useful.

He first went to the kitchen to pour them each a cup of coffee before following the flicker of candlelight back to the study where Dean had left a number of books open and spread out upon the desk. He already had a few ideas about what to do, but was pretty sure she wouldn't like what he had in mind. "He's asleep," Dean announced as he located her, setting a cup down on the desk near her while he took a sip of his own. "Find anything useful?"

He smiled back at her as she made her way past him to take the lead down the stairs to the lower level, taking in his surroundings with interest as they moved past the various rooms and storage spaces to the room with the protective circle in the floor. He let out a whistle as he admired the handiwork of the metal and calculated how much time and effort, not to mention money, must have gone into its creation. Unless certain gods and goddesses had a hand in things. "We got a lot done in four years. Did I rob a bank?" he asked, clearly curious and in awe.

She crouched down, touching her fingertips gently to the smooth metal. "I wasn't allowed to know," she confessed in a deeply amused tone. "It was all you, Bobby, and Brian. Apparently none of you wanted to upset me while I was nursing." She shook her head again, but her expression was fond in the firelight as she straightened up. "All I really know is that it's silver and wrought iron, blessed in at least three different ways. And there's a layer of salt in the middle. It works, too." She laughed suddenly as a memory made itself known. "I don't even know what you bribed Ayden with to get her to keep me away from the basement while you were working."

He crouched down beside her to run a finger over the metalwork, clearly in awe of the craftsmanship and the sheer beauty and mastery of it. He arched a curious brow at her, about to ask how she knew it worked, when she mentioned that name mentioned once before that was completely unfamiliar to him. He frowned again, shaking his head lightly. "I don't know anyone by that name."

Nimue blinked, confused by his lack of recognition, answering before she remembered just why he didn't know that name. "She's your sister, Dean," she said in a voice that declared her bemusement for all of two seconds before catching up with what was wrong here. "Oh ....Oh, man, I don't think you've met yet."

As if it wasn't enough of a shock to find out he was married with a son and another child on the way, and now she was telling him he had a sister" A sister who had died, if he recalled what she'd told him before correctly, along with everyone else he cared about in this world but Nim and Sammy. "My what?" he asked, furrowing his brows in puzzlement. "I don't have a sister."

Nimue winced, realizing what she'd given away without even considering the shock value of the words. "Uh ....yeah, you do," she told him in a gentler tone. "Ayden Milligan. Her mom and your dad had a thing; he used to drop in on them from time to time. He gave her your number to call if anything happened, and something did happen during her sophomore year at college. She went to Stanford." She bit her lip, eyeing Dean warily. "You're not going to freak out on me, are you?"

"Milligan!" Dean exclaimed. Well, that name was familiar anyway, but not because he had a sister by that name, but a brother. Half-brother really. And he was dead anyway. Dead before he'd even met him really. But that was another story. Brows furrowing further, he gave her a pointed look. "Are you sure" She doesn't have a brother named Adam, does she" What the hell was she doing at Stanford?" Sam had gone to Stanford. Was it just a coincidence or something more"

Nimue blinked slowly at his exclamation, holding his pointed look boldly, just daring him to call her a liar. "She was an only child," she told him calmly. "Just her and her mom, but they knew all about the hunting. A ghoul went after them trying to get to John, and he had to tell them everything after they witnessed him dealing with it." She shrugged lightly, bemused again by Dean's question about Ayden's education. "She got a full ride," the female hunter told him quietly. "Studying medicine. She wanted to be a doctor, and Stanford's one of the best. It's not like she had many options in Windom."

More shocking news that he assumed was all well-documented in his journal. Dean rocked back onto his heels, clearly in shock over this latest revelation, struck dumb by it as he listened to Nim's explanation, staring off into space at nothing in particular. At the mention of one word, he jerked his head back at her, perplexed yet again. "Windom?" he repeated, his mind turning back to the town in Minnesota and what he'd experienced there.

"Yeah. Windom, Minnesota, the town where she was born, where her mother lives ....lived." Nimue's expression twisted for a moment, her body turning away from his as she bit down hard on her tongue. Just one slip, that was all it was, and yet it brought home vehemently the losses suffered since the darkness came. "Sorry, it's ....it's still pretty fresh, you know?"

He was a little lost in thought, thinking about the brother he'd hardly known and had lost, shocked by the knowledge that in this place he had a sister, or at least, he did have a sister before everything went to hell. Pulled back to the present by Nim's inability to hide her grief, his expression softened, guilt and regret and determination settling back in. "We're going to change all that, Nim. No one has to die. Death will want something in return, but I'll take care of that." This wasn't the first bargain Dean had made with Death, but hopefully it would be the last.

"No." She turned to face him, one hand reaching out to grip his fingers tightly. "If there's a price that has to be paid, then we'll find some way to pay it without risking you any more than is necessary. This is all about getting you home, so you can fix this."

"It won't be that kind of price," he assured her, wrapping his fingers around hers. At least, it hadn't been in the past. "I know it sounds crazy, but he's pretty reasonable....for Death." Dean furrowed his brows, realizing just how crazy that did sound. Who the hell talked about Death as if he were a pal you called on the phone" And that thought brought Dean right back around to the summoning again. "Did I have a summoning spell in mind before I decided to go with Plan B?"

She nodded, a wry smile decorating her lips as a low sigh escaped her. "Like I said, we were all ready to go," she told him, her eyes lowering to their joined hands as her fingers turned, playing with his just to feel his skin beneath her touch. "It's all in the journal."

He studied her quietly, sensing a mood of sadness lingering just behind the smile she wore on her face. "I'm not leaving forever, Nim. If this works, we'll be together again. You and Sammy won't even know this happened." But I will, he thought to himself. I'll remember, even if no one else does, and I'll make sure things are different. He tangled his fingers in hers, setting the candlestick aside on the floor so that he could move closer. He let go of her hand so that he could brush her hair back and cup her face in his hands, searching her eyes, needing her to believe him. "Trust me."

She gasped, shocked deeply by the sensation of his hands cradling her face, reminding her all over again that this wasn't real, not truly. But despite that stark reminder, she didn't feel the need to step away, to burst the bubble. Not this time. "Trust you?" she whispered back to him, her expression disbelieving. "Of course I trust you. But I'm scared, baby. I can't watch you die again."

"I'm not going to die," he reassured her quietly, his thumbs gently, fondly brushing her cheeks. "I've met Death before. Several times. So long as we don't piss him off, he's reasonable. We're going to appeal to his sense of order and logic. He doesn't want this anymore than we do. I know it sounds crazy, but Death has a purpose in the grand scheme of things. Without him, without reapers, souls wouldn't know what to do, where to go. They'd be lost. The fact is we need his help, but he needs ours more."

She stared into his eyes, searching for any hint, any suggestion that he had any doubts, needing him to be completely confident of what he proposed before she could give it her seal of approval once again. She had so much less to lose this time around, and yet it meant so much more to her now. "We do it during the day," she said finally, agreeing without needing to say the words aloud. "And we keep Sammy close. I'm not leaving him on his own if there's the slightest chance Hades'll sense what?s going on."

"If my guess is right, Hades is afraid of Death. Everyone's afraid of Death." Everyone but him, it seemed, but then he and Death had had a personal relationship. Dean smiled as a thought came to mind, finding it somehow ironic that he knew things about Death that no one else in this world knew and that Death was unaware he had knowledge of. "How do you feel about making a pizza?" he smirked, knowing Death's weakness for fast food, not unlike himself.

She blinked, a faint smirk touching her lips in an echo of his, though she didn't know what he was smirking at. "I'll have to make the dough," she said thoughtfully, not entirely sure why he'd suddenly changed the subject to tomorrow's dinner. "Any particular topping you want, or doesn't it matter" And ....why are we talking about food?"

He smiled wryly back at her. "Not for us. For Death. He's got a weakness for fast food. I ran into him once in a pizzeria in Chicago, believe it or not. The guy can eat." Now that he'd decided, now that they had a plan, he felt a flood of relief. He snatched the candlestick back up and pulled her to her feet. "Come on, we've got work to do."

((The plot thickens ....Guess who I'm thanking? It isn't me!))