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In the beginning, he said “Let there be light!”
And with a flourish and a twirl, there was.
It wasn’t the light of his Father, creator of the heaven and the earth, but instead a soft light, the kind that washes over a person and draws them in to welcome them. A light they could be comfortable in.
He smiled, knowing all was good.
They weren’t the first ones there.
Dean paused at the threshold, caught off-guard by the unexpected change of scenery. Gone was the Impala and missing was the forest they’d driven from, leaving Bowman and the Wellwood far behind them.
The lighting reminded Dean of the diners and bars he and Sam visited quite often on the road. Indeed, against the wall was a bar full of top-shelf whiskey, the bartender running it a short man with a vaguely familiar face slowly wiping a glass dry with a bar rag.
The sturdy stools rose up from the ground, intricate filigree decorating the legs. The same patterns made up the sides of the bar, tapering away at the top. The dark wood had been treated with a fine finish, coolly reflecting the lights back.
Over in the corner of the room, past the slew of pool tables and worn booths, a kid was messing around on an old arcade machine, his blond hair tapering to a spike at the front.
“You got it, Sammy,” the kid enthused.
Dean’s heart skipped a beat.
As he stepped into the diner, the bartender perked up, tossing the clean glass in with the others with a casual motion. It was a miracle it didn’t break or even clatter. “C’mon in, boys!” he called out a welcome. “Drinks and food on the house.”
The plural form directed at Dean brought him up short. “Boys?”
It was then that he realized Sam was nestled in his regular spot, tucked against Dean’s neck and above his collarbone, securely perched. Dean was so accustomed to having Sam there that he hadn’t even noticed. Sam was out in plain view for all to see.
Yet the bartender didn’t look surprised, and Dean started to notice strange details in the bar that he’d missed on first glance.
Small, elevated stands on the surface of the bar, the tapered and filigree edges leading right to them like pathways. Instead of napkins or condiments, these places held miniature versions of the bar and stools, complete with tiny glasses and placemats.
Each table had smaller tables in the center, sometimes with walls guarding them from the outside and sometimes without. Each chair had the filigree pattern, and on closer inspection, Dean found it to be a grid made for small hands and feet to fit into.
Made for people like Sam to climb.
“What is this place?” Sam called out, his grip tight on Dean’s collar as he leaned out to see the bartender.
The man shrugged. “A place to rest for weary travelers, until your number is up.”
He pointed above his head. On a large, flat-screen television, words flashed across the screen. Instead of a sports game, three different names were listed, each with its own color.
Family Ties
Chasing Family
The Road Not Taken
“Don’t worry!” the man chirped. “You’d be back soon enough once your time finishes. This place will be hopping in a bit, so better save yourself a pool table.”
Dean frowned, but as the man turned back to his glasses, decided to do some of his own prowling around. Those kids by the arcade machines especially. There was an ache in his heart when he looked at the young teenager.
Couldn’t be more than fifteen.
Brothers Apart 