a/n- Okay, drumroll kids! I give you…the finale. Sorry this took so long, but hope you all enjoy it.

And I'm not gonna beg for comments or anything, but please, please, please send feedback!

...Please?

(Okay, that was slightly begging.)


Dean strained against the hands holding him captive in the air. The hunter's merciless grip was nothing compared to the agony his own body was producing, but at the moment, he had other concerns.

If the brothers were to get out of the playground alive, Dean knew he would have to keep the spirit's attention away from Sam.

Although he commanded his brain to think of some brilliant way to stall the hunter, Dean finally decided on the simplest method.

He would piss the guy off.

Dean cleared his throat. "So, Herne," he said casually, trying to hide the pain in his voice. He flicked his eyes downward. "Love the outfit. And did I mention how great the tights are?"

The hunter snarled, and Dean winced as he felt the fingers dig deeper.

Okay, so not much for small talk.

He looked up at Herne. "You know," he continued breathlessly, "I've seen some ugly ghosts before, but you…" He smiled. "You dude, take the cake."

Dean instantly saw stars as his body was shoved forcefully into a nearby oak. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to pass out.

Sam, you can thank me later.


Sam watched the scene from across the grounds. The spirit was toying with Dean, playing with his latest prey.

Sam felt sick at the thought of his wounded brother being used as a decoy. Still, seeing Dean in pain was better than seeing him dead, and Sam was the only one who could make sure that didn't happen.

He wouldn't let his brother down.


Dean gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the waves of pain coursing through his body.

Unable to see beyond the monstrous figure of the hunter, Dean had no idea where Sam was, or if he had bought enough time for his brother.

Unfortunately for his brilliant plan, speaking was beyond Dean's capability at the moment.

He glared up at Herne, but the hunter was done playing.

Suddenly, Dean felt the pressure around his torso increase, and the rush of oncoming pain caused his vision to blur. He could feel his fractured bones shifting, tearing him apart from the inside out.

Blackness crept along the edges of his sight, but he fought against it, knowing if he gave in, there would be nothing to stop the spirit from turning on Sam. Dean bit his lip, stifling a scream.

Finally, he just couldn't hold out any longer.

As Dean felt unconsciousness wash over him, a cold smile spread across the hunter's face. He watched the life begin to fade from his victim.

"Hey!" A voice called from behind.

The hunter turned.

Sam stared angrily at the spirit, his right arm behind his back. "Get the hell away from my brother."

Herne made a move towards Sam, and in that moment, the youngest Winchester plunged the stolen arrow directly into the hunter's heart.

Stunned, the spirit released Dean. He grabbed at the arrow shaft, but it was too late - the iron had begun to spread like a poison throughout his body. As Sam watched, a shudder wracked the hunter. His form flickered in and out; then a bright wave of light enveloped the playground.

Sam was knocked backwards by the blast. When the light faded, he blinked, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

Dean was lying motionless in a heap.

This time, Dean didn't object when Sam called for the ambulance.

This time, he didn't say anything at all.


Dean remained unconscious throughout the ambulance ride.

Seated in the corner of the rescue vehicle, Sam watched silently as the EMTs worked on his brother. The whole trip seemed faded and out of focus, like some sort of sick, twisted dream.

Sam shifted in the plastic hospital chair and flipped mindlessly through one of the magazines. He'd lost track of time a few hours ago.

"Mr. O'Toole?"

Sam stood.

"Your brother's out of surgery," the doctor began. "I'm afraid one of the rib fractures collapsed his lung..."

Sam's couldn't breathe. "He's okay though?"

"He suffered some pretty severe chest trauma, but we were able to repair the damage in time," the doctor confirmed. "If he takes it easy for awhile, he'll recover."

IF he takes it easy, Sam thought bitterly.

"Can I see him?"

"He's resting now," the doctor said. "But I'll have someone let you know as soon as he's awake."


Sam pushed open the door to Dean's room. His brother lay surrounded by a collection of machines and wires.

"Hey," Sam said quietly, pulling a chair over to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Dean glanced over at the bundle of cords. "Like a fax machine," he replied, his voice raw.

Sam gave a small smile and looked down at his hands.

Dean knew his brother well enough to know what that silence meant. He felt a "talk" coming. Why Sam couldn't just repress his emotions like a normal person, Dean would never understand.

"Alright," Dean said, steeling himself. "What is it?"

Sam couldn't answer right away.

"Dean," he finally began, "when I saw you in that ambulance…" His voice dropped off. "I thought you were dead."

"Sam..."

His brother didn't look up.

"Dude, come on," Dean said lightly, "no way I'd let that walking coat rack finish me off." At Sam's pained expression, Dean's forced smile slowly faded. "Man, don't worry...I always come out fine."

"You call emergency surgery 'fine'?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I didn't say I was mint condition or anything…"

Sam stood angrily and turned away from the bed. "Dean, you shouldn't even have been out there tonight!"

"Look, we didn't know what we were dealing with, alright?" Dean objected, "I wasn't letting you out there alone with some psycho spirit."

Sam faced his brother. "There's always going to be another spirit, Dean. Or another zombie, or another werewolf... You know as well as I do that our lives are not normal, so this whole Great Protector thing you got going? Frankly, it's old."

His voice got quieter. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a little kid anymore."

Dean eyed his 6'5" brother. "I can see that, Shaquille."

"I'm serious, Dean...it's not your job to watch out for me all the time."

Dean repositioned his head on the pillow.

"Yes, it is," he said simply.

Sam cocked his head. "What?"

"Yes, it is, Sam," Dean repeated. "I'm your big brother, alright. Giant or not, I'm always gonna look out for you."

Sam didn't know how to respond. Neither Winchester spoke for a minute.

Finally, Dean's voice broke the silence.

"Hey, Sam?"

His brother looked up.

"We're not going to have to hug or anything, right? 'Cause I think I've suffered enough for one day."

Sam couldn't help it. He smiled.

Sometimes, he was convinced their family held the patent on avoidance techniques. "No. I think you're safe," he replied.

"Thank God…" Dean breathed and seized the opportunity to switch topics. "So, I take it since we're both here having this conversation that the arrow thing worked?"

Sam nodded. "The arrow thing worked."

"I guess that means I should forgive you for that Disillusionment fiasco."

"Disjoining," Sam corrected automatically.

"Whatever."

"You know," Sam began, lowering himself back in the seat. "I was the one who thought of using the arrow…so I still saved your ass tonight."

"Woah," Dean scoffed, "I'll admit you did okay out there, but let's not forget the real hero…"

"And that would be?"

Dean gave him his best "Isn't-It-Obvious?" look.

Sam shook his head. "How does getting caught by the enemy and beaten unconscious classify you as a hero?"

"Excuse me? Who kept Antler-head busy so you could grab that arrow in the first place?

"You're right." Sam agreed. "You made awesome bait."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it bait…," Dean mumbled.

"You know," Sam began, "the doctor says you're gonna need to take it easy for a couple months." He raised his eyebrow. "So no more hero stuff for awhile, okay?"

"You bet."

Sam wasn't buying it. "I'm serious, Dean. Can I trust you this time?"

"Of course, Sammy," Dean replied. He held up his hand.

"Scout's honor."

THE END


So what'd ya think???

a/n-Like the real Supernatural, I thought it only fitting to end our little adventure with five minutes of actual sentiment, then head right back into snark territory and forget it ever happened.

For all of you that could use a little extra snarkfest (I know I can!) I've got a little "deleted scene" epilogue for you. Call it my gift for torturing you with all those cliffhangers :)