It was all over. The biggest challenge was through with, and all I had left to do was pick up the leftovers. Dad was in the corner, holding tightly unto Sam. The boy's body was limp and blood was pouring out of an arm.

"Dad, we need to take Sam to the hospital...now," I rambled out. My voice sounded struggled and caught a few times.

Watching my father, I unconsously gripped my left leg, not noticing the small bone protuding from the skin.

"Get in the car, I'll drive." Dad, still holding Sam, stood up and made his way to the exit of the deserted warehouse. Before opening the latch and allowing the sunlight to pour through, he turned to me with those dead set eyes of his and stated harshly, "If Sam makes it through, don't ever let him fight again."

Two Years Later

The incessant tick of the wall clock was all I could hear that early May morning. Sitting in my one bedroomed apartment I heard all sounds. The neighbor's tv, the kids outside, but all was dead that day.

It had been two years. Two long, tiring years since the journey for the Winchesters had ended. And yet, deep inside me it hadn't, really. I still hunted. I still risked my life for those of others. Only, I did it alone. Dad had taken off to finish some unfinished business back in Kansas. Truthfully, I knew he was hunting, too. It was in him. The blood of a hunter ran through his veins alongside his blood.

And Sam was gone. He'd stuck around for a few weeks, spent some quality brother bonding time. But then, he wanted normality. Friends, a job, a successful life. And after Dad's orders, I couldn't let him pick up another loaded rock salt gun again.

The walls stared back at me blankly as I waited. Sam had called in the middle of the night. It was the first message that lasted longer than two minutes in months. He seemed to have gotten back into law school and had even met a girl.

"Dean," the voice resounded softly outside my front door. Sam's voice.

Rushing over, I opened it and saw a more mature looking Sam standing on the other side. His hair had been cut shorter, and his clothes were more professional.

"It's been awhile," I answered coldly. I had convinced myself I'd be cool with my younger brother, but seeing him standing there, filling the empty gap of time, made me lose all self-reserve.

"You look like hell, man," Sam replied, taking in my haggard posture. He was speaking the truth, I knew. My hair laid flat on my head, I hadn't shaven in weeks, and my clothes hung loose on my body from my rapid weight loss.

Sam pushed me aside and slowly walked in. I had tried to cover up the obvious signs of emptiness, but one look towards Sam's face, and I knew he could see through the white lie.

"We need to talk, Dean." Slamming the door closed, I sighed loudly and plopped unto the nearest chair, waiting.

After a moment of silence, I spoke up, "What about? I've got nothing to say."

I expected Sam to go into a long spewl, I expected him to fall unto the couch and let his childish attitude come out, I did not expect him to throw the magaizine on my coffee table against the wall, or for him to kick the ground.

"Damn it, Dean!" Sam yelled. It had taken a few minutes for me to calm the male down. He was taller than me, and his adrenaline rushed caused me to struggle for control.

Eventually, I pinned him to the ground, where, once captured, he immediatly soothed himself.

"Now," I stood up, panting, "you wanna tell me what that little tantrum was about?"

"You're still at it!"

"At what?"

My brother had stood back up and was pacing furiously. "You're still hunting...even after we killed it."

"Sammy, there's always going to be someone else's demon that needs killing. I can't just walk away from this life."

"Yes, you can."

I returned to my seat and rubbed my hands over my face. I wished Sam hadn't shown up if he was just going to bitch.

"Dean, it ended two years ago. Two years! Please, go on with your life."

"Sam! I don't want to, okay? It's all I have and I can't just stop," I clenched my fists hard, trying desperatly not to get too worked up.

"You've missed me, haven't you?"

Glowering, I stared at Sam and his cocky ways. "You're my little brother, what the hell do you think?"

"Then," Sam stood up and walked slowly over to where I was, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. "You've got a choice."

"What?"

"These past two years I've missed you a lot, too. Not a day goes by that I don't worry about you. And that's why, if I'm gonna keep this going between us I need to know you're safe."

I stared up at Sam, feeling the upcoming question like an uproaching storm, with dread and anticipation.

"Dean, Dad's still hunting. I saw him a few weeks ago chasing after a shape shifter."

"So?" I sensed the thunder.

"It's impossible for him to turn back. I know I've lost him."

"And?" I heard the lightening.

"Dean, from now on, if you want to keep this relationship with me, you've got to end this gamble of your life...forever."

I felt the rain.

"You mean, you want me to choose?"

Sam nodded.

I sat stock still, blank inside. The two most important things in my life, and I had to choose between one.

Minutes passed. The clock ticked on as we stayed locked in my home, neither breaking the enchantment.

The answer came without me realizing it, and it came easier than I expected. Deep down, I knew it wasn't a choice. One always won. There was never any debating.

"C'mon, Sam, lets go grab a burger, you can tell me all about school."

We walked out together, brother and brother. We walked out as the protector and the his client. That afternoon, we were both kids again, with nothing in the world to worry about other than who was driving.

A few weeks later I mailed Dad the key to my apartment and informed him of where all the ammo was. A month later I was in California living on the same floor as little Sammy. I had what I loved most, at the cost of what made me complete.

For years to come I still felt the nagging urge to go in search of anything out of the ordinary, but Sam would always disrupt my thoughts and I'd remember why I'd givenit up. The cost was high, but the reward was better.