Author's Note: Just a reminder folks, that this chapter reflects one ending to the story and Chapter 8 will reflect another. Chapter 8 will be posted later this week. Thank you for your continued support of this story.

Chapter 7 - The Encompassing Gulf

Encompass: "To surround, hem in."

Gulf: "A wide separation or gap not easily bridged."

"Man, do I need to take a leak" was Dean's first thought upon waking. Stretching and scratching, he threw off the covers and looked over at Sam, who was still asleep. Dean needed the time to sort his thoughts. Today was the day when he'd come clean and own up to Sammy about what he did and why he did it. Yesterday, he'd felt the first signs of returning to his twenty-eight year old self, hell, he was actually twenty-nine now. Nothing big, nothing overly noticeable, just a shift.

As his feet hit the floor, they landed on something squishy and he smiled as he looked down. One of the gummi worms had escaped from the dirt cake.

Dean's biggest decision of the day was going to be when to talk to Sammy about this whole thing. He'd be earning his Oscar nomination today for sure, having to keep in his five year old mode for at least the time being.

Sam couldn't believe how tired he still was when he woke up. He just wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep. It took everything he had to just get to a standing position.

He smiled as he heard Deanie in the bathroom singing, well, actually Dean pretending to be Deanie. He'd felt the shift yesterday, if he'd blinked he would have missed it. If he knew his older brother, and he sure as hell did, Dean was stalling for time, getting his game face on, until he felt he could talk to Sam about what he'd done. After the Doctor had delivered the news and effectively provided Sam with a time line for dying, from a disease he had never heard of, Sam knew Dean was plotting out ways to save him. Hell, he'd been able to provide Sam with the gift of being a Daddy, length of time didn't matter, quality did. And quality, the Winchester boys knew how to do in spades. He wasn't sure how Dean had done it, but the fact was, he had. His already awesome older brother had reached worship status in Sam's mind. He put on his jeans and ran his fingers through his hair. Shoes he'd do later.

Death was watching. It had chosen today to start lurking, to begin it's assault, to claim it's prize. Caught unawares in the tangle of time, two lives, did not expect to hear the death drummer begin it's tune.

Dean put his game face on as he heard Sam at the bathroom door. "Daddy" Deanie said smiling as he gave Sam a hug. "Hey baby" Sam replied, kissing the top of Dean's head. The hug was long and loving, neither wanting to let go of the other.

"What would you like for breakfast my darlin?" Sam was asking Dean a short time later. "Green eggs and ham" came the response. "Green eggs and ham it shall be" Sam replied laughingly as he pulled out the green food colouring. "Damn, a sliver" Sam thought as he looked down at his foot. "Just let me get my shoes on okay bud, then I'll get going on breakfast" Sam told Dean. "Okay Daddy" Dean looked over at Sam and smiled.

"Things were going so well" Dean thought, as he finished his drawing for Sam, his Daddy. The potion he had taken to achieve his 4 and 3 and 4 year old age had worked wonderfully, the old lady had gotten it right. He'd been able to give Sam the gift of being a Daddy, not in a typical fashion, but in a loving one nonetheless. And Sam, as Dean had known he would be, was an absolutely fantastic Daddy. Talk about feeling loved and adored and treasured, Sammy had given those gifts to Dean wholeheartedly and without restraint.

Most importantly of all, the elixir he had given Sam was working, in-fact, he was sure of it. Aside from the nosebleed and the staggering, there had been nothing else. "The doctor and his diagnosis could go fuck themselves" Dean was thinking. His Sammy was saved, life would go on, they'd be together, brother and brother, facing whatever came their way, until they were old and grey and had lived full lives.

He was still working out the best way to tell Sam about all of this, as he pretended to be in his newly minted five year old mode, stalling for time, by placing his fingers in each of the pots of finger paint colours and mixing them together.

He was surprised to see Sam still kneeling by the bed, doing up his shoes, when he turned around to see what was keeping him. Dean went over to check on him.

Sam's eyes met Dean's.

"Oh God Sammy, please, please don't leave me" Dean sobbed, as he sat cuddling Sam in his arms, panic taking over. "Sammy wake-up, don't go, please Sam I'm begging you, c'mon man wake-up, show me those beautiful brown eyes of yours - NO! Sam NO!" Dean choked as he felt Sam's life seeping from his body.

From the present tense to the past tense, from the "I have a baby brother" to "I had a baby brother", from "I have the bestest Daddy in the world" to "I had the bestest Daddy in the world." Mere seconds and the transition is made, unequivocally and completely, forever and for always.

One brother exhaled as the other brother inhaled!

Ragged sobs and butterfly kisses were covering Sam's face as Dean struggled to acknowledge this impossible new reality.

As he held Sam in his arms, crushing him against his chest, Dean felt him slowly go from living warm to death cold. His mind fragmented and he thought about one of Sam's favourite poems, something Funeral, Dean was trying to remember. "Funeral Blues by Auden, that's it" Dean recalled. He remembered he use to kid Sam about it and had asked him once why he liked it. Sam had told him it was because it felt real, that the author got it and that whomever had died in his life, to make him write this type of poem, he must have loved deeply. Dean was struggling to recall the words he'd heard Sam recite more than once. He thought he had them now:

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;

For nothing now can ever come to any good."

Dean was barely functioning, very basic maintenance only, and even that was a struggle. His heart had been ripped out when Sammy died and nothing was going to change that outcome. God how he missed him!

His hands were shaking and the tears were falling, as he slowly began to pack up the treasures of their encapsulated time together, in the time of Daddy and Deanie.

The birthday gifts, the racer cars, the finger paints, the almost empty box of soap bubbles and the action figures, were all placed safely in Dean's duffle. He was crying pretty hard, as he reached over to the collect the memory box from the table. As he shifted the construction and finger paint paper, he noticed a piece of folded blue paper and when he looked at it more closely, his heart both sung and broke in unison.

For Deanie

Happy birthday my big boy. You're 5 years old today.

We're going to have a really fun day.

Always remember, you are my heart's delight!

I love you Deanie, you're the bestest!

Daddy

xoxo