A/N: And...here's the finale.

*SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN*

Bobby and Maggie, along with the men and women from the apocalypse world, had returned to their vigil. They all sat shoulder to shoulder in the hallway, right outside Sam's room. The sound of their constant praying came only as low murmurs to Dean's ears.

Rubbing a hand down his tired face, Dean turned to gaze sadly at his younger brother, who had been lying unresponsive since the blood vomiting episode about two hours ago. Sam had not resurfaced. Not even a stir or a sound came from him anymore, only stillness. His life was slowly fading from him.

Mary sat by Sam's head, her body curled protectively around his younger son as she slightly dozed. There were no more tears for her to weep, for she was already spent from grief and regret. Too much time had been wasted since her return to life by Amara's decree. Instead of being the mother that his sons desired, she had stayed away. She had deceived them. She had even betrayed them.

All opportunities to get closer to Sam—the baby that she had left behind at her death, the son that had no clear memories of his mother—were slipping through her fingers. She was losing him, mere hours after she just got him back.

Sitting on the bed at his brother's feet, Dean silently watched them both, his only living family.

This is not fair, he thought to himself, getting angry all over again. This is so fucking unfair!

Jumping to his feet, he began to pace in agitation. He would not sit still, as it was never in his nature to gladly let matter take its own course. And most importantly, he refused to give up.

"There must be a way," he muttered. "There should be!"

"Dean?"

His mother's soft voice stilled him. He forced himself to smile, though inside he felt like screaming.

"Are you okay, honey?"

Dean shrugged. "Of course, I am. My brother is dying. Again. I'm cool."

Mary gave his elder son a telling look. "Dean."

He sighed and briefly closed his eyes. "Sorry, Mom."

"It's fine. I understand," she replied. "I know exactly how you feel."

Do you, really?

Dean met her gaze. He wanted to accuse her of many things, to tell her that everything bad that had happened in their life was all her fault to begin with. If she had not made that deal with the yellow eyed demon, if she had not been a hunter…

But it was so yesterday's news. He had already told her all of that anyway, on that very day right before Lucifer dragged her into the apocalypse world. Dean shook his head, feeling mortified for having such unkind thoughts towards his own mother.

Turning away, he glared at the blood bag hanging from the IV stand. Ketch had begun the transfusion procedure soon after Sam had ceased vomiting blood. It was a good thing that they always kept stock of their own blood for emergencies. The brothers had been having their version of Winchester blood drive every three months.

So far, Dean couldn't find any improvements on Sam following the transfusion. All he could see was his brother lying so still and weak in that bed, looking so ashen face with his breath hitching as if he had not enough oxygen. Despite his rock-solid physique, Sam's current frailty made him look so young and small that Dean wanted to gather him up and rock him back to health.

If only I had the power to heal…

On that thought, Dean took out his phone and started dialing Castiel's number for the umpteenth time. Like before, the call went straight to voice mail. Dean swore a blue streak. He drew back his arm, about to throw the phone against the wall, when there was a sudden commotion outside in the hallway.

Aw, come on! What now?

Exchanging puzzled glances with his mother, Dean quickly headed to the door to have a look. His eyes widened instantly. "Cas?"

The angel that Dean had been trying to reach this whole time was now standing at the other end of the long hallway, the young nephilim following right next to him. Both looked baffled by the sight of the gathering.

"Um…what's going on?" Castiel asked, frowning.

Gritting his teeth, Dean walked calmly and steadily between the refugees sitting on the floor until he stood nose to nose with his best friend.

"We have been trying to reach you for hours," Dean said in a low tone. "Cas, where were you?"

Castiel blinked for several heartbeat. "I took Jack to the famous ice cream parlor in Topeka."

It was Dean's turn to blink. "You what?"

"Jack has been real upset since we returned from the other side," Castiel explained. "I wanted to cheer him up, and I learned that eating ice creams can makes people feel better."

"He's right," Jack innocently said. "The ice cream does make me feel a lot better. I ate two large gallons. They put nougats on them. I'm not so sad now."

Dean sighed, restricting himself from planting a face palm. "And you took…what? A six hour trip to get there and back, just for ice creams?"

"It was world famous, the only ice cream parlor opens at midnight. The internet suggested it," Castiel responded. "Besides, Jack and I have had a good long talk. He'll be okay now. Right, Jack?"

Jack nodded, smiling happily. He then looked at the group of men and women who sat against the wall, staring back at him. "Dean, what's happening? Why is everyone here?"

There was pain in his voice when Dean replied, "It's Sam."

Jack's smile fell flat. "What's wrong with Sam?"

Instead of answering, Dean turned to Castiel, saying, "We've been calling and calling you, so many times. What happen to your phone?"

"I switched it off. No interruptions, more privacy with Jack for our talk."

"Of course." Dean forced a thin smile. "I suggest you check your voicemail now."

Still puzzled, Castiel took out his phone and switched it on. He then played the first message, the one from Mary, "Cas, where are you? You need to come home now! Sam is sick, very sick. I think he's dying, there's so much blood. Please come home, Cas! Sam needs you…"

Jack gasped. Without another word, he ran into Sam's room.

Castiel looked up in dismay. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I didn't know."

"I know, Cas. I know." Dean nodded, his eyes swimming with tears as he patted Cas' shoulder. He was not angry, not anymore. Only hopeful. "It's alright. You're here now."

"I will go and see Sam right away."

With that, Castiel also rushed off. Dean followed at much slower pace. At Sam's opened doorway, he paused. Turning towards Bobby, Maggie, and the other refugees from the other world, he softly told them, "Thank you."

They all smiled in return.

Dean was not a fan of Chuck because the God had just up and left with Amara, never returning and never answering his prayers ever since. But Dean was sure the prayers of the refugees were somehow being heard and regarded. He couldn't appreciated them more for being there.

Stepping into Sam's room, the first thing he noticed was Jack. The young nephilim had draped himself across Sam's knees, crying unabashedly. Dean was about to reproach the kid when he remembered that Jack was practically a young child, not even a year old. Clearly, Jack was distraught. He had lost his mother, his father. And now…

Jack cared a lot about Sam, loved him even. The first man Jack had seen in his life, Sam was always kind to him, patiently nurturing him to be good. It was no surprise that Jack regarded Sam as a surrogate father, someone he could look up to.

Dean reached out to touch Jack's shaking shoulder. "Jack."

"How could this happen?" Jack sobbed, turning to Dean. "My father brought Sam back to life, so why is he dying?"

Dean sighed. "The vampire bite was venomous. Lucifer gave Sam his life but neglected to heal the venom. The venom has been attacking him from the inside, and now Sam's body couldn't fight it anymore."

Jack's eyes widened. "But…but why? How could my father do that to Sam?"

Boy, you have no idea.

Instead of answering, Dean pulled Jack away from the bed. "Let's give Cas some space to do his healing works. Okay, Jack? Sam will be alright in no time."

"I want to heal him, truly," Jack said, and stared accusingly at his upturned palms, "But I don't know how."

Mary, who had risen from the bed to give Castiel more room, came close to hug the kid. "It's okay, Jack. Maybe not now, but later. Let's see how Castiel does it."

Castiel had removed his long trench coat and suit jacket. Rolling up his sleeves, he took his seat on the bed next to Sam's hip. As Dean, Jack, and Mary keenly watched, Castiel placed his hand on top of Sam's chest, right over his heart. Almost instantly, bright blue-white flares materialized from beneath his palm.

Castiel shut his eyes with a low moan, his face grimacing.

"Cas?" Dean worriedly called out.

"The damages are severe," Castiel responded, his teeth gritting. "The venom is still raging hot like fire. His organs are quickly shutting down. Too much blood is lost."

"Can you still heal him?"

"I'll try my best, Dean," Castiel replied. "But he is very weak. I hope I'm still not too late."

As Castiel continued with his efforts, Bobby and Ketch silently stepped into the room to join Jack and the Winchesters. Even then, Bobby would not stopped praying.

Almost like an eternity later, which was actually not more than a full minute, Castiel finally relaxed as he took his hand away from Sam's chest. The angel had turned a little pale, but he was smiling wanly back at the others as he announced, "He's going to live."

They all just stared back at him for a long moment.

"Are you sure, Cas?" Dean asked, a bit uncertain. Sam was yet to stir, his eyes were still closed. But Dean also noticed that his brother didn't look pale anymore, his breathing steady and sure. In fact, Sam looked like he was only sleeping.

"I am sure." Cas nodded, staggering a bit as he rose to his feet. "It was an intense and very complicated procedure but I managed to cure the venom, repair his organs, and stop the internal bleeding. He's going to pull through. However, the blood lost has weakened him a great deal, so he needs a lot of rest. He'll bounce back to health in a few days."

"Oh, Cas, thank you. Thank you so much!" Mary was so delighted she jumped into Castiel's arms and kissed both his cheeks. She then went to sit next to Sam and gazed lovingly at her youngest son, stroking his head while crooning sweet nonsense into his ears.

Jack broke into grins and went to sit on Sam's other side. Bobby took a deep breath of relief before he shook hands with Ketch.

"I feel like kissing you too," Dean heartily told Cas, so overwhelmed he was by mixed emotions.

Cas smiled. "A simple handshake will do."

Shaking his head, Dean grabbed Cas into his arms. They held on that way for a long moment.

No more words were needed.

*SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN*

"Come on, Sam. Just a little bit more," Mary coaxed his son with another spoonful of rice tomato soup.

"No, Mom. Thanks, but I'm already full." Sam put up a hand to still his mother's arm. Sitting with his back against the headboard, a blanket up to his waist to chase off the chills, Sam had been sleeping the whole day away. He had only woken up about an hour ago.

"You sure?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "It tastes real good, though. Thanks, Mom."

"It's the least I can do. I want you to get better fast."

"Oh, I will. Just watch me."

Chuckling, she put down the soup bowl and handed him a glass of water. "You need to drink something hot too. I'll make you some tea."

"No, Mom. You don't have to do that," Sam quickly replied, giving her back the water glass after he took a few sips.

"Oh, but I want to." Smiling, Mary cupped her son's cheek. "Sammy, I never had the chance to take care of you. I never saw you grow up. I never tended to you when you caught the flu or mumps or chicken pox, or when you broke your arm. So let me take care of you now. Please."

Feeling the kind of happiness he had never experienced before, Sam took her hand off his cheek and brought it to his lips. "I love you, Mom. I want you to know that."

Tearing up, Mary ran a hand through his son's fine brown hair. "I know, baby. I always know."

From the corner of his eyes, Sam noticed someone standing in the doorway, silently watching them both. He smiled through his own tears when he realized who it was.

"Hey, Jack. What's up?"

Jack smiled back, a bit tentatively. "Hey, Sam."

"Come on in."

"Um…am I intruding?"

"No, no, no. It's okay, Jack." Mary got to her feet, picking up the bowl and glass. "I'm going to go get Sam some hot tea anyway. You keep him company till I get back."

As she walked out, Jack took the seat she vacated. "So…how are you feeling, Sam?"

"Better," Sam replied. "A little tired, maybe. But I will be back on my feet by tomorrow, mark my words."

"That's good to hear. I wish I were the one who healed you, but I've never healed anyone or anything before. I have no idea how to do that."

"In time, you'll know how."

"Yeah, that's what Mary said too." There was a long silence afterwards as Jack stared down at his feet, as if he wanted to say something else but was afraid to do so.

"Jack? What's wrong, buddy?" Sam asked, his voice soft and filled with concern.

"My father. He…" Jack stuttered, "He brought you back to life but he left the venom inside you."

Sam sighed. He had known this was coming. "Jack, it's okay."

"It's not okay!" Jack cried out, his eyes gleamed with conflicting emotions. "It was awful of him to do such thing. I didn't know my father could be so mean."

"Jack, look." Sam grabbed the kid's shoulder and squeezed. "There's a lot of things that you don't know about Lucifer. Let's keep it that way."

"My father was really a bad person, wasn't he? Am I going to turn out like him?"

After a brief hesitation, Sam responded, "It doesn't matter who you are, Jack. It only matters what you do. Never forget that."

Biting his lower lip, Jack finally nodded. He still didn't look fully convinced, though, and so Sam decided to distract him. "Hey, can you help me get that?"

Jack looked up. "What?"

"The switchblade on that shelve next to the TV."

Frowning, Jack rose to do so. He picked up the knife and handed it over to Sam. "What are you gonna do with it?"

Instead of answering, Sam snapped open the blade. He then sliced open his palm about two inches long. Blood instantly gushed out.

"Sam! What are you doing?" Jack cried out in shock.

Calmly, Sam raised his injured hand towards the nephilim. "Heal it."

Jack blinked, flabbergasted. "What?"

"Heal it," Sam repeated. "I know you can do it."

"But…but I don't know how."

"There's a first time for everything. Might as well start now."

"Something might go wrong, Sam. I might hurt you more than you already are."

"Jack," Sam firmly said, looking straight into the kid's eyes. "I trust you."

Feeling highly nervous, Jack visibly swallowed. He then slowly placed his palm against Sam's and began to concentrate. For a full minute, nothing happened.

Jack was quickly overcame with disappointment. But when he looked up, Sam was gazing back at him with full support and encouragement, so he doubled his efforts. And something extraordinary finally occurred.

A bluish white glare materialized between their palms. Not overly bright but it was clearly visible. Sam felt the warmth in his hand, spreading up to his arm followed by a slight tingling sensation. And then it was over.

Jack took away his hand, and they both stared. The cut had disappeared, the blood was gone, leaving behind an almost invisible two-inch scar.

Jack's face brightened with happiness. "It works! I did it!"

"Yes, you did." Sam smiled proudly back at him. Quietly, he added. "See, Jack? There's a goodness in you. Don't let anyone tell you differently."

The nephilim grinned in return. "I need practice."

"Of course. Practice makes perfect. And who better to teach you all that other than Castiel?"

"You're right, Sam. Cas can teach me more about healing. I'll go and find him. I hope he's already back from shopping with Dean."

Sam's eyes widened. "Cas and Dean went shopping?"

"Yeah. They took along several men and women from the other world too. Dean said you made a list?"

That did it. Sam laughed out loud.

"Sam? What's so funny?"

That made Sam laugh all the more. "Just go, Jack. Go find Cas. I'm good."

"Okay." Jack shrugged. He whirled around to run out the door, almost crashing into Dean who was coming in.

"Whoa, kid! Where's the fire?" Dean exclaimed, holding the nephilim steady by the shoulders.

"There's a fire?" Jack was puzzled.

Dean chuckled. "No, what I mean was, what's the hurry? Where are you rushing to?"

"I'm going to see Cas. He has also returned, right?"

"Yep. He's showing the women how to put detergents into the washing machine at the basement. Go help him before they start a foam party or something."

As the nephilim hurriedly ran off, Dean turned to Sam. "What's with the kid?"

Sam showed Dean his hand. "He healed a cut."

Dean came closer to peer at the scar in the middle of Sam's palm. "No way. He did that?"

"Yeah. "

Dean looked up with a frown, his green eyes blazing with displeasure. "But how did you get the cut?"

Sam refrained himself from rolling his eyes. "I did it to myself with the switchblade."

"You what?"

"Dean, it was just a simple cut."

"Simple? You almost died from blood lost, you moron! I nearly lost you. Again."

Sam had to look away from the pain in Dean's eyes. The hurt was so palpable that it brought lumps to his throat. "I'm sorry, man. It was inconsiderate of me."

Sighing, Dean ran a hand down the back of his neck. "Look at us. The minute you woke up, and what did we do? Behave like idiots."

"Yeah, you're an idiot." Sam smirked back. "So. How's shopping?"

Dean went still, scowling in response. "Not a word, brother. Just shut up already."

"I heard you and Cas took some of the refugees along." Sam didn't heed the warning though. "You got everything on the list?"

Dean's glare grew even more ferocious. "Oh, yeah, we got them all. You betcha."

"Tampons included?"

"I didn't know that the aisle for ladies' supplies goes forever," Dean complained. "And they have hundreds different type of brands. Hundreds, Sam. Thanks to you, I know it now."

"You're very welcome." Sam grinned. "Learn a new thing every day, huh?"

Dean cursed in response, causing Sam to laugh out loud. Dean's irritation vanished instantly.

"What?" Sam asked when he noticed Dean's intense gaze.

"You're laughing."

"Yeah, so?"

"I thought I would never hear you laugh again."

Sam was briefly struck speechless. "Dean, It's in the past now. I'm alright."

"And I'm glad. Really," Dean said. He sat down on the bed, facing his brother. "It's just that…I can't help feeling that the other shoe is gonna drop, you know? As if another curve ball is about to be thrown at us."

"So be it. We hit it back, like we always do. Do not worry about any curve balls right now. We'll deal with it when we have to."

Dean nodded, smiling now. "Okay. You're right."

"I'm always right."

"And so smug about it too."

"Well, I learn from you."

"Fine."

"Fine." Sam stared back. "So…are we gonna hug and make up or what?"

"No flick chick moments, you moron." Dean lightly slapped his brother upside the dead. "Come here."

Sam gladly went into his brother's arms. The brothers' embrace lasted only for several seconds but it was poignant enough that both were close to tears in the end.

"You're a freaking pansy," Dean joked, blinking hard to clear his eyes as he stood.

"I learn that from you too. No flick chick moment, my ass."

Chuckling, Dean asked, "So, you're good? You need anything?"

"I'm fine, Dean. No worries, okay?"

"Are you comfortable enough?"

"I am, Dean. Will you stop already? You are being a mother hen. Again. Jeez."

Dean grabbed the television remote. "Wanna watch some TV? I can put up some porn on the Netflix for ya."

"No! Dean, come on man. Turn it off."

Dean just grinned at the erotic scene now flashing on the television screen. Placing the remote out of Sam's reach, he headed for the door. "Okay, brother. I'll leave you alone with Jasmine and Aurora. Get some rest. No homework, watch some porn."

"You're a jerk, you know that?" Sam was shouting behind him.

"And you're a bitch," Dean shot back, an instant before he bumped into his mother at the doorway.

"Dean! Language," Mary said, keeping a tighter grip on the mug of hot tea that she brought for Sam.

"Sorry, Mom."

Dean didn't sound sorry at all. As he quickly walked away, he could still hear it when his mother cried out in shock, "Sam! What on earth are you watching?

"But Mom…" Sam was heard whining. "I wasn't…"

Dean smiled. His family was all here. Everyone was safe. Everything was fine. At least for now, but he would take it all and cherish every moment.

THE END

A/N: I would like to give a big wet kiss to those who read and review this fic. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as you've enjoyed watching the real deal on TV. Thanks for reading, guys!

Adromir has left the building to go watch SPN pilot all over again. Vrooommm! (That's the sound of Baby, if you're wondering. I'm borrowing it from the boys for the day. Okay, okay, I stole it! Just don't tell Dean. He's gonna be real mad if he finds out that Sam is sitting shotgun, holding several boxes of blueberry pies on his lap! Hahha!)