Summary: Sam has rescued Dean from Hell. Now he and Bobby have to bring him home.

A/N: At last, the final chapter.

Burnt Like Barbecue by frostygossamer

MESSAGE

Sam watched Bogart go until he was safely out of sight, before returning to the cabin. Dean was sitting bolt upright on his bed with a pained didn't-I-know-it look on his face. Sam realised he must have been awake the whole time. He had seen Bogart.

"New orders?", Dean asked, coldly. "Or are you gonna try and tell me I didn't just see you in a huddle with some freakin' Limb of Satan?"

Sam sighed, sat back down at the table and recommenced his crossword without a word.

"Guess the tune-up's almost done, huh? Could almost pass for human now, yeah?", Dean observed, bitterly. "So that it? They wanted me healed so they can put me through the crusher one more time? Let me see myself like I was, so they can take it away again, piece by piece? Well, just tell them, if they're looking for a pretty face to stomp on, it's too damn late. This one'll never be pretty again. My soul is cinder trash."

Sam opened his mouth to protest.

"I saw you talking to that guy", Dean declared, accusingly. "He WAS in Hell. I KNOW he's a freakin' demon!"

"His name is Bogart", Sam replied, calmly. "He's an imp, Dean, not a demon. And he was working for me."

Dean stared, confused. "So how you gonna explain that?"

"He was helping me get you out, asshat!", Sam retorted, angrily.

"He was in HELL", Dean continued, not listening. "He was there. I saw him. Jeez, he SPOKE to me!"

"I sent him down to you with a message", Sam explained. "That was me."

"What? You told him to tell me 'Grab your ankles'?"

"I told him to tell you 'Hang tight', Dean. Guess something got lost in translation."

JOURNEY

Bobby had gotten a call-back from Guru Fenton, and arranged a meet. It was two hours ride away, at the home of a mutual friend. So they got up early, and prepared for a difficult drive, with an only semi-cooperative Dean in tow. Bobby drove the pickup, with Dean handcuffed to his brother in the back.

Dean sat with his eyes shut the whole first hour. Sam felt like that wasn't helping the situation.

"Beautiful day", he told him. "Least you got to get outta the cabin. Get some fresh air. OK?"

Dean opened one eye and peered at him. "Where you taking me anyways?", he asked.

"We're going to see a friend of Bobby and me", Sam explained. "A guy named Fenton. Calls himself Guru Fenton. He has a little new-age cult thing going on. And, before you say anything, he's a good guy. He helped me when I was close to calling it quits."

"And I need to meet him why?", Dean asked.

"He wants to talk to you", Sam replied.

The rest of the journey passed in silence, but Sam noticed Dean was looking at the scenery.

INTERVENTION

As they pulled into the drive of the unassuming suburban house, they were met by a group of smiling people. They were dressed in simple white robes and sported strings of beads, the guru's adherents presumably.

Sam unlocked Dean's cuffs and they were half led, half manhandled into the building. They found themselves in a comfortable living room, where Fenton was ensconced with a few of his followers.

"Welcome", he said, motioning to chairs for his guests. Bobby, Sam and Dean took their seats. Bobby tried to get comfortable, he suspected this was going to take a while. And it did.

Fenton smiled at Dean benevolently. Dean returned a suspicious look.

"First of all, my friend", Fenton began. "Why do you think we're here today?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, I'd say it looks like some kinda half-assed intervention", he said.

"You could call it that", Fenton replied. "But an intervention is for someone who has a problem. Do you have a problem, my friend?"

"I'm not your friend, smartass", Dean retorted. "And, yes, I have a problem. I have a big freakin' problem with all this new-age crap."

Fenton chuckled. "We're not here to discuss my religion, Dean. We're here to help you. I've come to answer your questions."

"Got no questions", Dean snapped.

"Sure you have", Fenton responded. "We all have. We all have questions about the meaning of life, the purpose of our existence, the nature of reality and our place in it."

Dean hesitated for a moment. "Who the Hell are you?", he demanded. "What are you? What do you want from me?"

"Dean", Fenton replied, calmly. "It doesn't matter who I am. Or what I am. Think of me as a voice in your head. Just tell me, tell yourself, what you're afraid of."

Dean sighed and his shoulders drooped a little. "I'm afraid that this is all a dream", he whispered. "I'm afraid I'm gonna wake up and all this, Sam, Bobby, everything I care about, is gonna be just one big lie. Just some hell-fiend's idea of a big-ass freakin' joke."

"Do you want to believe, Dean?"

"Yeah, sure I wanna believe. Who wouldn't? Who the Hell wouldn't want their life, their family back? I loved those guys, dammit. But I can't. I can't let myself believe."

Fenton chuckled again. "So you tell yourself that everything you see here, everything you touch, everything you hear, smell, taste, feel is an illusion? Well, you're right. It IS an illusion."

Here he paused dramatically, watching Dean's expression harden.

Then he continued. "ALL life is an illusion. The Universe is a dream. This is what the eastern mystics teach us. It is the ultimate truth. I cannot prove to you that this world you see around you is real, Dean Winchester, because it is not, nothing is. But it is as real as anything else you will ever know. It can be real enough. Accept that thought and you are free."

Dean stared the old priest straight in the eye for the longest time, and finally replied...

"...Maybe."

At that moment the guru's attendants got up and shooed Sam and Bobby into the kitchen.

COOKIES

Bobby wanted to know what the heck had just happened. Fenton's chief assistant smiled benignly.

"We just had what they call an 'epiphany'", he whispered.

Bobby and Sam shared a look of amazement.

Dean and the guru continued talking in private, for quite some time. Meanwhile someone in the kitchen made coffee and passed round a plate of cookies.

Suddenly Fenton appeared in the kitchen, grabbing a cookie as the plate passed his nose.

Sam was confused. "Where's Dean?", he asked.

"He's out front", Fenton spluttered, mouth full of crumbs, gesturing toward the front yard.

Sam and Bobby spilled out of the front door, to find Dean leaning nonchalantly on their vehicle.

"You ready to go?", Bobby asked, a little surprised.

Out in the daylight, he wondered vaguely if Dean hadn't overdosed a little on the skin-healer. Did he used to be that handsome? Seriously?

"Sure", Dean replied, climbing back into the truck. Sam got in beside him.

As Bobby pulled away, Dean turned to him and asked, "Can we stop someplace and eat? I kinda missed out on the cookies."

An hour later Dean was staring down a huge slice of apple pie.

"Sure smells like pie", he said with a smirk, "I guess that's near enough."

STOOP

Sam and Dean were sitting on the stoop of the cabin, enjoying the last couple cold beers.

Dean sighed. "I'm not gonna ask", he remarked.

"Not gonna ask what?", Sam asked, innocently.

"This sorta thing has a price, Sammy. I should know."

Sam stared at his beer bottle for a moment. "It was worth it", he said.

Dean finished his beer and tossed the bottle in the garbage can, where most of the stuff they'd used in the cabin had now been junked. He hefted his duffel bag, and wandered over to the truck. Bobby was already belted in the driver's seat, ready to take off.

"Don't let him do anything like this ever again", Dean warned the old hunter.

"Sure, Dean", Bobby responded. "Like I could stop him."

Sam joined them, and they got in the truck and pulled away. Tomorrow they would go pick up the Impala. Then Sam was gonna have to drag Dean kicking and screaming to the dentist's office.

The End

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AFTER-CREDIT SCENE

A week later, as the Winchesters sped along the highway in Dean's favourite Chevy, Sam napping on his brother's right, Dean broke the companionable silence.

"Hiding out in a cabin in the woods that way reminds me of when we were kids", he observed with a smile.

Sam broke out a dozy grin. "Everything reminds you of when we were kids, Dean", he replied fondly.

Dean chuckled. "Remember that time Dad drove us up into Alberta, to hide out from the Feds, after that mess of a hunt in Idaho?"

"Dude, we've never been to Alberta", Sam retorted without thinking.

"Sam, we had to be there like almost three months. Had one whale of a time, all three of us together. You don't remember?"

"We got around, Dean. I guess Alberta wasn't that memorable", Sam recovered quickly.

When Dean looked skeptical, Sam cut off the conversation by feigning sleep. Memory hole? Damn that Bogart and his little deal sweetener. One or two years? Jeez, what other random stuff was gonna turn up missing? Shit!

The End

A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) Thanks everyone for your reviews, faves and alerts.