Cover to Cover

by Stacee Phelps

Post 4x18 ‘TMATEOTB’- Sam had always wondered what had happened after he died in Cold Oak. One-shot

Title: Cover-to-Cover

Author: Stacee Phelps

Disclaimer: 'Supernatural' does not belong to me and I am not getting paid for writing this. Any and all recognizable characters belong to the CW network and Eric Kripke. Also, the dialogue happening in the book portions is from 'AHBL part II'. Any unknown characters are probably mine, so please ask before using. Thank you.

Author's Notes: I have been reading lots of fics lately of things happening because of the 'Supernatural' books the boys picked up. This is merely my own contribution to that great, amazing, completely and totally AWESOME episode. I meant to have this out earlier, but yay for RL.

Also, please forgive my details of 'AHBL'. It was such an amazing two-part finale, I just feel like I'm trying to put all the emotions in and am leaving everything severely lacking. So, please, just deal with me.

Summary: Post 4x18 'TMATEOTB'- Sam had always wondered what had happened after he died in Cold Oak…

Post: 'The Monster at the End of this Book'

Warning: A little language

SN

Sprawled on his stomach across his bed, Sam Winchester's hazel eyes swept quickly over the pages of the book in front of him. He was almost halfway through 'All Hell Breaks Loose' and was stunned that the Prophet Chuck had gotten everything down correctly of what he and the other children had gone through in Cold Oak, South Dakota. Everything from him waking up, meeting Ava and Andy again, finding Lily's body hanging, it was all in there.

Reading over his own adventures, seeing his actions and his life through someone else's writing was undeniably strange. And that was saying something in a long life of strange and crazy. Having faced things that supposedly only existed in people's worst nightmares, this whole situation was stacked right up there with the strangest. Because, it seemed that when writing, Chuck leant more towards the emotional tones. Having his secret, private emotions so plainly displayed was disturbing. The events he had gone through were life changing for him and for readers of this book series to treat everything as entertainment nearly enraged him.

Had any one of them been taken unexpectedly from the one person they had left in the world? Had any of them been forced into a situation that apparently had rules that only one person knew? Had any of them had to literally fight for their lives against people who had once been counted as allies? And for everyone to see all this as ENTERTAINMENT?!

In a way, a very strong way, Sam wished Chuck wasn't so big on the details and the thoughts the brothers had. Reading through this book, and even the others before it, he was remembering the worry he had experienced as he feared for his older brother's life, as well as the anguished realization that Dean could be dead somewhere. Sam remembered every one of those emotions just fine on his own; he didn't need the written reminder of one of the worst days of his life.

But, he had picked up this book for one reason. He was trying to read the whole thing from cover-to-cover without skipping any pages because he was very impatient to get to one specific point. One specific point that would recount the events that he had missed, the events that no one seemed eager to inform him on.

Looking up as he heard a key in the door, Sam put his hand in the book to hold his place as Dean walked into the small motel room. Bearing bags of take-out, the older Winchester slammed the front door behind him and moved for the table situated under the window next to the entrance. Plopping his purchases on the smooth surface, he moved to peel off his jacket and hang it on the back of one of the chairs. Glancing back at his brother as he moved to pull out said chair and sit in it, Dean gave a hesitant smile.

"So, what you doing?"

Sam's eyes unconsciously looked to the book in his hand before he met gazes with his brother once more. "Just reading about our marvelous adventures."

Dean sat down and angled his seat so he could talk to Sam and eat at the same time. "You're not done with those books yet?"

The younger man bristled and sat up on the bed. "Dude, you had a head start on me. It's not my fault you were hogging all the books and wouldn't let me start until you were nearly done with the entire series."

"Yeah, well you read faster then me and I didn't want to have to wait for the next one. Which one you got there?"

Holding up the book, Sam watched his brother's face as he took in the title. A shutter seemed to fall over the green eyes and Dean sat up straighter. Licking his lips and seemingly thinking to himself, Dean just nodded his head and turned his attention back to his food.

"Hurry up and get through that one. The ones after it are the better ones."

Sam just stared at him for a moment. Knowing exactly what made Dean uncomfortable about 'All Hell Breaks Loose', the younger brother let the other off the hook for a moment. "Sure, like I want to revisit you and the Doublemint Twins. No thank you, I'll pass."

A pleased grin started at Dean's mouth as he started to take a bite of his burger and he sighed in remembrance. "Ah, what a night…"

Rolling his eyes, Sam threw himself back against the pillows at the head of the bed and brought his book up to him. "Whatever you say, Dean. Whatever you say."

SN

'Raising his weapon higher, Sam struggled with himself. He should kill Jake otherwise the other man would undoubtedly kill him. Jake had given into the words the Yellow Eyed Demon had whispered to him and would not listen to reason. But that did not mean that Sam had to give in as well.

Wanting to fight against his own destiny, the one apparently orchestrated by the Yellow Eyed Demon, the hunter decided on his course of action. Disgustedly throwing his weapon to the ground, he hugged his injured arm closer to his body. Staring down at the unconscious man before him, he faintly heard a shout. A comforting, familiar voice echoed throughout the buildings and caused Sam's head to turn.

Hopeful and wanting to believe in who he thought was coming, the young man walked slowly down the dirt street. At the end, coming around a corner, was one of the best sights he had ever beheld.

"Sam!" his older brother's wearied voice reached him and Sam saw his shotgun dip in relief.

"Dean!" joy shot through Sam as he quickened his pace to reach Dean and Bobby. But something was wrong. The expression on his brother's face morphed from one of complete relief to one of disbelieving horror.

"Sam, look out!"

Suddenly, overwhelming pain filled his entire being. Not knowing what was going on or what was happening, Sam could do nothing but give into the agony. His back arching back as he felt something twist and pop, the young man started collapsing to his knees. Crashing to the muddied ground, his eyes fixated dizzily on the overcast sky above.

Confused beyond all reason, the only thing that broke through was a pair of strong hands catching him and pulling him closer. Knowing instinctively that it was his big brother, Sam trustingly gave himself over into Dean's waiting arms.

The bliss of finding Sam alive and relatively unharmed drained quickly out of him as he saw a young, African American man come up behind his baby brother. Seeing the knife in his hand, Dean yelled out a panicked warning to Sam. Knowing that Sam wasn't going to react in time, the older brother started into a run. Hearing before seeing the knife embedded harshly into his brother's back, all he could do was scream in denial.

"NO!"

Watching as Sam dropped limply to his knees, the older man did not feel the pain in his own legs as he crashed down into a kneeling position. Catching Sam, Dean was only vaguely aware of Bobby running past them after the bastard that had stabbed his brother.

But as Sam's head lolled against his shoulder, Dean pulled him closer. Putting a hand to his injured back to examine the severity of the wound, Dean kept up a steady, reassuring wave of chatter. Placing his hand directly over the blood saturated wound, Dean's expressive eyes widened as he realized that this was bad, very bad.

Pushing his brother away, Dean's strong, capable hands trembled as he caught the lapels of Sam's jacket. Trying to hold Sam up as his body attempted to fold to the ground, the older brother plastered on a smile.

"Hey, look, look at me. It's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, alright?" his smile grew uneasily and he tried desperately to catch his brother's rolling gaze. "Sammy? Sam! Hey, listen to me. We're going to patch you up, okay? You'll be good as new."

Catching his brother once more as his body tried to fall backwards, Dean continued in a steady voice. "Huh? I'm going to take care of you, I gotcha. It's my job, right?" smiling and pushing back more of Sam's wayward bangs, he went on. "Watch after my pain in the ass little brother?" pushing back more of the hair that kept falling with the loose movements of Sam's head, Dean's hands casually slipped to the sides of his brother's neck.

"Sam? SAM? SAMMY?!" Dean's lower lip trembled as his eyes frantically searched his brother's lax face for any signs of awareness. With a frozen heart and a sinking stomach, he could not find any.'

Dropping the book as if the words contained inside were burning him, Sam put a hand to his face and rolled away from the small torture device. Reading up to this part had been hard. Remembering the relief he had felt at seeing his brother alive and coming to the rescue once more was tarnished by the bitter memory of all-consuming agony. He had not known at that moment what had happened, only that he had been wounded. In his fading thoughts, Sam hadn't even known that he had just been stabbed. Even to this day, the only two things he could recall in his last few minutes of life was the pain and the feeling of security and safety as Dean's arms caught him.

The next part, however, was going to be the toughest yet.

Dean had not spoken to Sam about what had happened after. Technically, he had never even spoken the words "You were dead" to Sam. At least, not until after the deal had been revealed. So, while Sam did know what his death had done to his brother and what it had driven Dean to, he had no clue what had led up to Dean summoning a crossroads demon and selling his soul.

And while his curiosity to know had forced him to pick up this book and read, Sam now did not know whether or not he wanted to continue. If he felt betrayed by his emotions being so casually displayed by the author in his worry for Dean, how must the older man feel that his grief and total devastation was written down and there for the whole world to witness?

For Sam had no doubt in his mind that Dean was a completely private person. He hated to show emotions to others, even his baby brother. When Sam had died, chances were that Dean was in some, small way relieved that Bobby had left him to grieve alone. But that Chuck had written it down and that his writing style leant more in showing the emotional side to the brothers…

Glancing over to his big brother, who was lying on his own bed and flipping through the channels, Sam hesitated. He had already been deceiving and lying to Dean so much since the older man had returned from Hell. This just felt like one more betrayal to add to the ever-growing list.

"Just read it, Sam," Dean's wearied voice broke through his musing. Snapping his gaze to lock back on the form of his older brother, Sam's eyebrows drew into a questioning expression.

Not looking away from the TV screen, Dean added on, "It's okay that you want to know. Hell, everyone else in the world seems to have read it. You might as well, too."

"But, Dean…"

Holding up a hand, Dean tilted his head to look Sam square in the eye. "It's okay."

Keeping their eyes matched up for several moments, Sam's hazel eyes searched every inch of Dean's face. Reassured that his brother really did think it was fine that he read on, the younger man nodded and moved to lay on his right side. Facing his big brother, he reached over and pulled the book back to him.

Taking a deep breath and flicking his eyes once more to Dean, he opened the book to where he had left off and continued reading.

'"No, no, no, no…" one word of denial flowed continuously from his lips. Sitting further on the ground, he pulled Sam closer until the younger brother's head lay cradled on his right shoulder. "Oh, God," shock flooded through him as his chest met up with Sam's. No measure of breathing, no beating heart met his, only a silent and motionless body. This realization threw him even more as tears gathered mercilessly in his eyes.

Wrapping one hand around the back of Sam's neck, Dean's hands moved through his brother's hair and against the broad shoulders. He was unsure of where exactly to rest his hands because all he wanted to do was press Sam closer and closer, until somehow, someway, his little brother came back.

Clutching his fingers in Sam's jacket, he hugged his brother's lifeless body. Tightening his grip, Dean unconsciously began to rock. "No,' his pain filled wails were quiet as he knew that if he gave voice to them, he would never be able to stop them. Moving his arms to embrace Sam more fully, Dean stopped and stared ahead. Unable to stop himself, angry, devastated, grief-stricken, disbelieving… all of it built up into one cry.

"SAM!"

A cry that only meant one thing: Come back. For all the emotion it held, it was just one of need. A need to have his brother returned to him. And as a single tear slipped silently down his face, the absence of a response echoed painfully.

End of Part One'

Having to close the book once more, though slowly this time, Sam could not help but examine his brother. While he knew that Chuck's descriptions were creepily accurate, he knew a lot more had happened besides this. Dean had shown time and again how strongly he was able to feel, and this section of the book just seemed to be lacking. At this point in their lives, Sam had been stressing over his destiny to turn dark side and Dean had just "returned" from his dream world influenced by a djinn. Both brothers had been more aware of each other then ever before.

Chuck's descriptions just didn't seem to give the depth of grief Sam knew Dean had gone through.

Sighing deeply, he reopened the book once more and started to skim the beginning of the next part.

'In a dust filled room, once left emptied by the passage of time, Sam's body laid upon a derelict mattress. His hands were carefully folded over his stomach and his head was facing the doorway leading to the main room. A deep bruise covered the lower part of his pale face and his dirtied hair had mud splatters at the ends.

Standing in the doorway leading to the main room of the small house, Dean leaned against the frame and just stared at the dead body of his baby brother. All of his attention was focused on Sam. A strange numbness filled his body and his mind, preventing him from feeling or thinking anything. All he could do was stare at the motionless form spread out carefully on the ancient mattress.

Totally locked on his little brother, the usually so aware hunter didn't even move an inch as the front door to the small house opened and footsteps echoed over the wooden flooring. Next came a familiar voice calling out,

"Dean?"

Dean finally sort of came to himself and barely turned his head to see Bobby entering the house with a bucket of chicken outstretched in his hand.

"Brought you this back."

The younger man's eyes remained fixated on Sam's body.

"No, thanks, I'm fine."

Bobby barely glanced to him as he responded, determined to get the grieving man to eat. "You should eat something."

"I said I'm fine," Dean's voice was cold, completely void of any emotion. Turning, he walked towards the table Bobby had laid the bought chicken amongst the previous pizza and pop bottles, and picked up a glass bottle of whiskey and raised it quickly to his lips. Taking a deep swallow, he lowered his arm and stared straight ahead.

Bobby watched Dean's movements for a minute and then started to shift his weight in uneasiness. Obviously, he was about to broach a subject that made him very uncomfortable. Finally, he spoke,

"Dean, I hate to bring this up, I really do. But don't you think maybe it's time we bury Sam?"

The devastated older brother didn't even have to think over his answer as he immediately looked up to Bobby.

"No."

Again, the older man seemed nervous while trying to offer a solution. "We could, maybe…"

Cold, angry, anguished eyes looked up at him and pinned him with a 'don't you dare' glare as he moved to sit in one of the chairs situated in front of a window.

"What? Torch his corpse? Not yet."

Unsure and uneasy, Bobby raised his hands in near defeat. He wanted to be there for Dean but it seemed that everything he was saying or doing was being rebuffed. However, he also knew that if he left the other hunter on his own, the unexpected and the unwanted would more then likely occur.

"I want you to come with me," he said quietly and persuasively. Back home at the Salvage Yard, he'd have a much better chance of watching over Dean.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Dean, please…"

"Can't you cut me some slack?"

"I just don't think you should be alone, that's all. I gotta admit, I could use your help. Something big is going down," waiting for Dean's reaction to this exclamation, he went on. "End of the world big."

"Well, then let it end!" the ferocious out-cry nearly startled Bobby.

"You don't mean that."

Dean kept his eyes on the older man as he angrily got to his feet. Only vaguely noticing his chair hitting the ground behind him, he took a few steps forward until he was right up in front of Bobby. "You don't think so? You don't think I've given enough? You don't think I've paid enough?" the not so subtle tilt of the head towards the other room was all that was needed to express his anguish and sorrow.

"I'm done with it, all of it. Now, if you know what's good for you, you'll turn around and get the hell out of here," meaning to take a step back, he then saw that Bobby was not moving. Lunging forward, he gave a mighty shove to the older man that sent him scrambling back quite a few steps. "Go!"

Nearly at once, he realized what he had just done. Blinking in surprise, Dean's head tipped and he whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, just go." Picking up the chair from its fallen position, the young man's strong hands wrapped tightly around the back of the furniture. Not looking to his old friend, the man that was as close to him as his own father had been, Dean seemed to block out Bobby's presence.

Defeated and knowing that there was no way he would be able to convince Dean of burying Sam and leaving Cold Oak, he turned mournfully towards the front of the house. Shaking his head and sighing, he muttered, "You know where I'll be," before walking heavily out.

And hearing the door shut behind his old friend, Dean's eyes were unconsciously drawn towards the other room and the bed that bore the body of his dead brother. Feeling an overwhelming sadness sweep over him, he barely noticed as a tear slid down his ashen cheek.'

Leaving his book open but drawing his eyes away from the words written for a moment, Sam closed his eyes and tilted his head back a little.

Just thinking of his brother's pain, something tangible and strong enough to drive Bobby Singer away, was hard to bear. He recognized his own agony and loss at Dean's death and understood why he just had to push the older man aside. But to read here that Dean had done the exact same thing in his own torment? Poor Bobby, next time he saw the older hunter, Sam was going to apologize profusely for the brothers' responses towards their friend who only wanted to help.

Looking back to his reading material, Sam scanned and flipped through the part where Azazel met with Jake but stopped when he saw the next part detailing what Dean did next. Realizing that this was it, that this was the moment that Dean had decided that living without Sam was not worth it and that he'd be better off making a deal with a crossroads demon, Sam shuddered.

This was the reason he had started to read this particular installment to the 'Supernatural' universe, and he was not going to stop until he knew what his brother's thoughts had been. He needed to know just what Dean had been thinking as he drove off recklessly, all too ready to sell his soul to the highest bidder.

'Moonlight flitted into the room through the boarded up windows and cast a grayish tint on everything that was inside. As the light fell across Sam's dead body, making his features even more corpse like, it also draped the other form in flickering shadows.

Sitting in a chair pulled up beside the bed, Dean sat with his shoulders slumped. Nearly as pale as his departed sibling, he just sat looking for a time. Unable to draw his gaze away from the beloved features of his little brother, Dean slowly began to speak.

"You know when we were little, you couldn't have been more then five, you just started asking questions." Letting a brief smile escape as he remembered the small, tussled haired kid buzzing with questions and begging for answers, he went on with the memories. "How come we didn't have a mom, why'd we always have to move around, where'd Dad go when he'd take off for days at a time. I remember I begged you "Quit asking, Sammy, man, you don't wanna know"," a small chuckle erupted but quickly disappeared.

"I just wanted you to be a kid, just for a little while longer," lost in moments of happier and innocent times, although not the greatest, he paused. This was the important part, the part that he wished he could have told Sam again and again when they were growing up.

"I always tried to protect you. Keep you safe. Dad didn't even have to tell me, it was just always my responsibility, you know? It was like I had one job, that one job," leaning forward towards his brother, he went on, his voice catching and obvious tears gathering in his eyes, "and I screwed it up.

"I blew it. And for that I'm sorry," a tear fell, quickly joined by another. Watching over his brother, Dean raised a hand and wiped them away. Exasperated and frustrated with himself, he went on condescendingly.

"I guess that's what I do. I let down the people I love." Choking back tears, his voice unsteady, he managed to strengthen his tone. "I let Dad down and now I guess I'm just supposed to let you down, too? How can I? Am I supposed to live with that? What am I supposed to do? Sammy…" tears and confusion mixed in his voice as he struggled for answers. "God… What am I supposed to do?" letting his anger seep in, he climbed to his feet while still keeping his eyes on Sam. "WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!"

And then suddenly, as if his cries had garnered answers, it came to him. It was crazy but it was for Sammy and he would do anything for his baby brother, and besides, his dad had done it for him… and they had passed by dirt crossroads only miles away from Cold Oak. Spinning around quickly on his heel, he grabbed his navy jacket off the back of a chair and swung it on.

Moving towards the front door, he wrapped a hand around the handle and yanked it open. Stopping for a moment, his gaze unwittingly went to his brother's unmoving form. It was for Sammy, and nothing in the whole wide world was worth more to him then his little brother.

Not even asking himself for one minute if this was a bad idea, he tore his eyes away from Sam and stomped out the door. Racing to the Impala and tearing open the driver side door, he jumped in and started the engine. Immediately putting the great muscle car in reverse, he put the gas pedal to the floor as he sped towards the crossroads.'

Slowly closing the book and raising a hand to swipe at the tears that had begun to gather and fall, Sam couldn't help but cross his arms in front of him and rest his head atop them. Reading that last section had changed his thoughts on Chuck not being able to convey Dean's grief and desperation. Sam could nearly physically feel his brother's every emotion. Besides, he was not the typical reader. He knew his big brother and he knew exactly without a doubt how Dean had meant everything that he had said.

Well, he had wanted to know what had happened after he died. And now he knew. But, the saying "be careful what you wish for" was coming back to him. Sure, he had imagined something along the lines of what really happened, but reading it for himself was completely different.

And that last scene had nearly broken his heart.

The thought of Dean talking to his dead form hit him worse then any strike made to his body but the big kicker was that his older brother had meant every single word he had spoken. Sam realized now that he had never understood his brother's image of his self-worth. Before, he had honestly just thought that Dean had cared more for his family then his own life and was willing to take any chance to keep those few people alive. Even after the deal and hearing from Dean's own lips about how tired he was and the stupid suicide tricks he pulled, the younger man had never comprehended the true depth of Dean.

Dean had honestly and truly thought that he had screwed up, that it was his fault alone that his father and brother had died. And that it would require his life to rectify all his mistakes. To Sam, the thoughts running through his brother's head was ridiculous on all levels. How could Dean not see all that he had done? How could he not see that even before everything with Sam leaving for Stanford that he was the one who had kept the family together and alive?

"Are we going to have to talk about this?" Dean's gravelly voice broke the heavy silence and caused Sam to jump. Raising his head and meeting the other's green eyes, Sam sighed. Moving so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed facing his brother once more, Sam laid the book in his lap and ran a hand over the cover.

In one of the corners, pretty much hidden by the other images, was a small illustration of Dean cradling Sam's dead body in the mud of Cold Oak. And from the way the illustrator had shown the lines in his jacket, the little brother knew how much Dean had clung to his torn, tan coat.

"I think so. I mean, I know it happened nearly a year and a half ago, but, I mean, I just…" unable to really voice his thoughts and emotions, he looked to Dean once again, silently needing the reassurances of seeing his big brother sitting across from him. For just knowing how broken he had been, Sam needed the strong image of Dean to replace the part of his brother he had never seen and hoped to never have to.

Dean sighed and threw the magazine he had been haphazardly browsing through to the side. He had silently watched his little brother as he had read the book and had seen every one of the emotions Sam hadn't even thought to hide. He had seen the pain, the regret, the sadness, and the empathy cross the sharp features, and along with several other emotions Dean hesitated to put names to.

Knowing exactly what parts Sam had been at hadn't helped as the more progress he made caused the memories to erupt in Dean's own mind. While Sam had never asked what had happened between the times of his death and resurrection, Dean had always known that his brother had wanted to know. Probably near to the same extent that Dean had wanted to know the events of the four months he had missed while in Hell.

But the older man had never been able to bring himself to share the painful thoughts with Sam. For one, as he had thought, what was the point? Sam was alive and well and therefore there had been no real reason to explain what had happened. He guessed it was sort of like the Tom Sawyer thing, the wanting to know who would show up at your funeral if you croaked. In Sam's case, he wanted to know what Dean did while he wasn't there.

Of course the younger man knew eventually what did occur, but with the chick-flick mindset Sam used to have, he wanted to know EVERYTHING. And that included recounting what had happened in that house in Cold Oak with Sam's dead body. And even though it had been nearly a year and a half ago, just the memories of his brother's blood staining that mattress and his lifeless body being cold and pale was enough to cause Dean's heart to skip a few beats and a sick feeling to grow in the pit of his stomach. No matter what, his brother being dead was the worst time in his life.

Now, seeing his brother squirm uncomfortably in a way Dean hadn't seen since before he'd returned from Hell, the older brother knew that it was finally time to discuss what had happened. Damn Chuck and his stupid Winchester Gospel! Sam had apparently forgotten about the entire thing until they had found out about those damn books.

Moving so that he, too, was sitting on the edge of his bed, Dean slumped over his knees and barely glanced up at his brother. A little unsure of what to do or even what to say, he waited for Sam to start this little Q & A Chick-Flick session.

Realizing that Dean was giving him the reins on this one, Sam took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

Dean blinked. Well, that was unexpected. "Ok, I'm probably going to regret this, but why are you sorry?"

Sam did not look up. "I'm sorry that I gave you such a hard time about the deal. That doesn't mean I wasn't pissed, but I get now why you really did it. But, Dean," he raised his eyes and locked gazes with his beloved big brother. "Please don't ever think it was your fault. It wasn't. It doesn't matter that you think it's your job, but my dying was my own damn fault. I was taken and there was nothing you could do. And that was not your fault."

An expression completely filled with steel stole across Dean's face and he sat up a little straighter. "I don't think it will ever matter how much time passes since Cold Oak, but I think we just have to agree to disagree." He sighed and managed to stop his hand before he ran it through his short hair. "You keep saying there was nothing I could have done, but I will always have this feeling that tells me that I should have done more. That I was perfectly able to do more but I didn't."

Taking a deep breath and resigning himself to the fact that he was going to cause the Chick Flick moment to escalate, he continued. "Sam, it will never matter how many times I say it, but the fact will not change that you are my little brother and it is my job to make sure you stay safe and alive. It won't matter how big or old or hard-assed you get, it will always be my responsibility to look after you. And it's not just because Dad told me to. This is me making the decision to protect you at all costs."

Making sure that Sam's tear filled hazel eyes were staying on him, Dean finished. "I already had to try and live without you once, and I will never, ever try again. So don't ask me to or expect me to."

Swallowing back a lump in his throat and then having to repeat the motion as he was unable to talk, Sam blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. "I'm sorry that you had to go through all that."

Dean sighed. "I know you are, and if it's any consolation, I'm sorry about what happened in 'No Rest for the Wicked'. It was bad enough to watch you get your spine severed in front of me, but I could never imagine watching something tearing you apart while I'm unable to move. I'm sorry, Sammy."

Choking back a laugh, Sam shook his head and sat back so his weight was braced by his arms on the bed. "You realize we both owe Bobby huge, right?"

The older brother was taken aback by the sudden change in their discussion. "Huh…?" he started with, but the answer immediately came to him. Managing to look sheepish, Dean chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say, we're Winchesters. I do wish I'd acted better, but can you blame me?"

Sam knew what Dean wasn't saying. 'He wanted me to burn you'. But he understood what his brother meant. "Yeah, well then I have the same excuse you do."

Sharing a quick glance with each other, matching smiles slowly climbed across their features.

"So, are we done caring and sharing now, or what?" Dean asked softly. His words would give the impression that he was totally disgusted with the topic of discussion, but Sam knew better. He knew that his big brother was wanting to stop talking but was giving Sam the option of leaving it open. If Sam needed to keep talking about this thing, Dean was all for continuing. But, the younger hunter was up for letting his brother off the hook.

"That's ok, but lets just say I'm leaving the possibility open for further talk about this stuff. I do have sixteen more books to get through, after all," Sam's smile widened into a grin and it forced Dean to roll his eyes in fond exasperation and move so he was laying down facing the television set once more.

"Oh, brother, kill me now."

Watching his brother, Sam was reminded again how lucky he was to have the older man back in his life. While recently it would seem as if the two would rather kill the other rather than actually act like brothers, it was nice to see that when one needed the other, they were still there.

Lifting the book in his hand so that it was level with his eyes, Sam silently revised his thinking on the series. While he was still a little ticked at the fact that his and Dean's lives were so openly displayed, he was glad that they had these written testimonies to their trials.

In the upcoming times with the Apocalypse and the seals breaking and the possible rise of Lucifer, it was good to have these little reminders to go back to. It was good to see the old times and each book made it impossible for him to forget just how much his brother loved him.

He just hoped that Dean would take the opportunity now and again to pick one up and remember the old Sammy. And who knows, maybe Dean will finally realize Sam's drive and motivations one day. After all, the brothers were not too different from each other.

They both would do anything within their power for their brother.

Hopefully, they wouldn't be able to forget that fact ever again.

The End

A/N: I think I wanted this story to be more angst filled and there to be more talking about Cold Oak, but it just didn't seem necessary the more I wrote it. I hope this story was as good as I wanted to be, so thanks for reading and just please review!