Thank you all so much for the reviews and for reading! I have just an epilogue left! I hope you all enjoyed this story. I think it's one of my favorites so far! :) I'm considering a sequel. We'll have to see... :)


Dean paced back and forth beside the bed where Sam laid, motionless, breathing shallowly, pale as death.

It was all up to Sam now.

They had stitched his wounds, cleaned off the blood, changed him into comfortable, warm sweats.

He was still unconscious.

They could do nothing else.

"He'll make it. He'll make it." Dean murmured under his breath, like if he said it enough it would be true.

Please make it. Please. Give me a chance to fix everything. Please Sammy. Please don't leave me. Don't give up on me, kiddo. Please.

Dean glanced at John, looking for reassurance, but his father's face was blank, his eyes thoughtful, as he stared at Sam.

Dean frowned, but turned his attention back to Sam. Please Sammy. Don't leave me.

...

Sam woke slowly.

Dean saw his eyes beginning to move, heard him sigh, shift slightly, and knew that his brother was moments from consciousness.

Sam's eyes fluttered open. He looked around, looking confused, still not fully awake. "D-Dean?"

"Right here, Sammy." Dean waited for the explosion. He knew there would be a panic moment, a freak out, but he wasn't sure exactly how or when it was going to happen.

It came sooner than he'd been hoping, but at least he could tell when it did.

Sam's eyes slowly widened, a fleeting expression of pain, then sheer panic took its place.

Dean reached towards him, but Sam jerked back from his touch, adrenaline giving him the strength to scramble off the bed, but it was as far as he could go before he began to crumple again.

Dean caught him before he hit the floor. He felt a weakless, touchless push against his chest and realized with hurt and shock that Sam was trying to push him back with the telekinesis, but it was too weak to have any effect.

The kid just didn't have it in him.

Sam was sobbing, whimpering softly. "No, no, no, please, no..."

The words tore at Dean painfully. His baby brother's total and pure terror broke Dean's heart.

Ah, Sammy. What have we done to you? How could you be so afraid of us? I'm so sorry.

Sam was struggling slightly, very weakly. He was still completely panicking.

Dean pulled him into his arms, hugging him tightly. "Sammy. Sammy, we're not mad. You're okay. We're not going to hurt you. I promise. I promise. I'm not gonna hurt you, kiddo." he soothed. He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Just take a deep breath. You're okay. You're okay. I promise. You're safe. You're safe. Deep breath."

Sam was shaking violently, clutching onto Dean tightly, small gasps coming from him, both from exhaustion and sudden overwhelmed feelings of relief and lingering fear.

He was limp against his big brother, unable to hold himself up at all, though his muscles were still as tense as his body could manage, his fear remained. He was still crying.

His head was tucked under Dean's chin, Dean's arms still wrapped around him gently but tightly.

Dean rubbed his arm and back, repeating over and over that Sam was safe. He would continue to repeat it until Sam believed it. No matter how long it took.

Sam finally began to calm, breathing slowing gradually. Finally, he slumped completely against his brother, pure exhaustion dragging him back into unconsciousness.

Dean couldn't bring himself to release the kid. He didn't even move from his position on the floor. He wanted Sam to wake up feeling safe.

...

A few hours passed.

John sat in a chair near Dean. He hadn't said a word at all for hours and his face was blank, eyes hard.

Dean held a silent vigil over his young brother, still sleeping.

He was losing the battle against his guilt.

This is such a mess. Dean cursed. Sam never should have been afraid to tell me. That'll be the first thing I fix.

Sam stirred in his arms.

Dean looked down at him, began to run his hand through Sam's hair soothingly, hoping to avoid another freakout.

Sam's eyes fluttered open. He stiffened for just a second, but Dean was already murmuring that he was safe, that he would be okay, that they weren't mad, and Sam relaxed against him once more.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm here."

"Y-you aren't mad? Y-you don't hate me?"

"No. No, Sammy. Never. I will never hate you."

"Y-you aren't going to hunt me?" Sam sounded so confused.

Dean supposed he couldn't blame him considering a way of thinking that Sam had held to for many years was being flushed down the toilet, but the question still hurt. "Never. I promise. I promise you, Sam. Never."

Dean paused, letting that sink in for a moment. "I do have some questions, though, kiddo. I'd like to know your side of your powers. I want to understand. I mean, obviously, I saw some of it today. You can...transform into a wolf."

Sam nodded slightly. "I'm not a werewolf though. More like a shapeshifter, sorta. I have control. The only thing is I have to change once a week. It's usually why I get moodier near the end of the week. I'm having a hard time controlling the wolf side of me and the longer I go without changing the harder it is to contain. I've been trying to find places to do it that I won't be overheard in, but it's hard, so some weeks are worse than others because I couldn't find a place." Sam explained. His voice was soft and clearly he was unused to talking about this so openly, yet relief was in his tone. It was an amazing feeling: to be able to get all of this out in the open. No more secrets.

"Well...that explains a lot." Dean managed.

Sam snorted. "Yeah, I bet. Sorry."

"It's okay, Sammy. I understand. ...So...telekinesis too. That's kinda self-explanatory. The earth moving thing was freakin' awesome by the way."

Sam blushed. "Uh, thanks."

"She also mentioned something about memory. Is that why you could tell dad what the phrase was he was looking for earlier?"

Sam nodded. "Yep."

Dean didn't quite know what to think about all of this yet, so he stuck with short and simple. "Wow."

Sam snorted again. "Understatement of the century."

Then Dean remembered something else he had wanted to ask about. "Sam, why did she call you the 'warrior of heaven'?"

Sam paused, then sighed. "When I was 11, I saw an angel in a dream. He told me that I was meant to fight a great evil, that I was a 'warrior of heaven' and that I would never be alone. Castiel, that was his name, said though times would be rough, torturous, and sometimes I would feel alone, I would always have the strength I needed. He said I was to use my abilities to fight evil for humanity's sake." Sam was quiet, waiting for his family's reactions.

"Crap, kiddo." Dean breathed. "This is nuts."

"You don't believe me?" Sam sounded hurt.

Dean quickly backtracked. "No! Of course I believe you. It's just overwhelming is all, kiddo."

Sam offered him a small, shy smile of gratitude.

Quiet settled over them for a moment, all lost in thought.

"That was freakin' awesome." Dean suddenly announced.

"Huh? What?" Sam sleepily responded, having been on the brink of falling asleep again.

"Crap, kiddo, you just kicked butt today. That was totally awesome. You tossed those hounds around like they were-were pillows or something! And smashing those demons and...crap, Sammy, that was so cool! My little bro kicks butt!"

Sam laughed, turning bright red once more. "Thanks, Dean. I can't wait to see what I can do once I actually practice with this crap."

Dean laughed. "Me neither, kiddo, me neither."

A moment later, Sam began to slump against his brother once more, still exhausted.

"Why don't we put you in bed, Sammy?" Dean suggested, gently.

Sam nodded, sleepily. "K."

Dean carefully stood, Sam still in his arms and laid his brother down, pulling the covers up over him and gently brushing Sam's hair out of his eyes. "Sleep, Sam. You're safe."

...

Dean woke with a start. His knife was in his hand, prepared for attack, but none came. All was silent. What the heck woke me up?

His father had left the room.

Curious and worried, Dean stood silently.

The window was open just slightly, but it was enough.

"-now. Yeah. Psychic. Telekinesis, shapeshifting. Nothing else is an immediate threat. Yes. In the morning. Yeah. Can you get here by then?" A pause. "Good. Good. Yeah. What?" Pause. "Do I know him?" A pause. "No. No, I don't."

Dean pulled away from the window, chest constricting with pain nearing what he had felt that morning when discovering Sam's secret and Sam's lack of trust in them. No. No, dad. Please, no.

He climbed into bed, pretending to be asleep as his father came back in and went back to sleep.

What now? Crap, what do I do now? I only have till morning.

But Dean knew what he had to do. It hurt and it would be the hardest thing he had ever done, but he would do it. Because Sam was the most important thing to him and he would protect his baby brother. No matter what.

So Dean waited.

Waited till his father's breathing was steady and he knew he was asleep.

Then he stood, silently walking over to Sam's side of the bed.

Guess your training backfired on you, huh, dad? You taught us too well.

Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder, shaking him.

Sam's eyes flew open and he opened his mouth to speak, confusion clear on his exhausted face, but Dean immediately put a hand over his mouth firmly, but gently and shook his head, putting a finger to his lips. He mouthed, "Trust me."

Sam nodded, no longer looking scared, though looking considerably confused.

Dean silently lifted his brother up in his arms, walked over to the door, then eased it open as carefully and silently as he could. He only glanced back once to see if their father had awoken.

He hadn't.

Dean quickly moved out the door, leaving it open just an inch so he could go back in if he had the chance and grab their things.

Loading his brother ever so gently into the car, his exhausted brother was hardly able to keep himself awake. Dean was fairly sure Sam was only awake because of pure stubborn curiosity.

Dean carefully buckled Sam into the seat, then shut the door as silently as he could, heading back towards the door. He pushed it open silently, then grabbed the two bags that belonged to him and Sam respectively, thankful that their dad had made them pack early and place the bags next to the door so they could be ready to go once the witch had been taken care of.

Of course, that had been before their whole world had crumbled around them.

Dean dropped the bags outside the door, then turned. He gazed at his sleeping father for a moment, deep sorrow and agonizing pain filling him for just a moment. It was followed almost immediately by anger. Our family could have been whole and happy. #$# you, dad. How could you want to hurt Sam?

Dean shut the door, grabbed their bags and threw them in the back, then climbed into his own seat, shutting his door quietly.

He had to take a second then, overwhelmed by all that was going on, horrified by what he was about to do. He leaned his head against the wheel, working to keep his breathing steady, keep his form from shaking. He couldn't start crying. He'd cried enough recently to last him for the rest of his life.

But he was all too aware of Sam's frightened gaze on him, of their traitorous father sleeping in the room.

He didn't have time for a freak out.

He couldn't break free.

It was Sam's frightened whimper, "Dean?" that finally gave Dean the strength to continue. It was a firm reminder of why he was doing this.

"It's okay, Sammy. We're just...just going on a bit of a drive."

He stuck the keys in the ignition.

"With our bags and without dad?" Sam's tone managed to sneak a little sarcasm in underneath the fear.

"J-just give me a sec, Sammy. Trust me." Dean said.

Sam was silent for a moment, then, "Always, Dean."

Dean tucked the warmth that filled his suffering soul at that away for a later date, knowing he had to focus right now. He locked the doors, then reached over and laid a hand on Sam's chest to keep him from tumbling anywhere. They were gonna have to move fast. "Hold on, Sammy."

"How exactly?" Sam complained, sleepily.

Dean just grinned tightly and turned the key.

The car roared to life and Dean knew in that instant their father was out of bed and already moving towards the door.

Lucky for the two boys, the car was faster. Dean pulled out of the parking lot with a screech, vaguely noticing their father standing in the doorway of their motel room, watching them storm off.

He probably already knew why they'd left.

Dean swallowed and pressed harder on the gas.

...

Dean drove in silence for hours.

Sam had fallen back asleep once Dean had decided it was safe to slow down and drive at a speed closer to the speed limit. The kid was exhausted.

Dean sighed heavily.

"D-Dean?"

Dean jumped, startled at the sudden voice.

"Sam. Crap. Um, what?"

"What's going on?" Sam's words were hesitant, tentative, like he was afraid of the answer, afraid to know.

Dean glanced over at him, brows furrowing slightly at the exhaustion still prevalent in Sam's face, the fear that remained. "Sammy." Dean wasn't sure he was strong enough to explain this now. Sam's reaction alone might kill him, never mind his own strong feelings.

But Sam's puppy dog eyes had made an appearance, large and mournful, begging, a need to understand clear in them.

Dean swallowed hard, fighting the urge to close his eyes (considering he was driving) and did something he hadn't done since his mom died. Please. C-castiel, Sam says you're out there, so you gotta be out there...I don't know if you can listen to me like you can listen to Sam or...or if you would even bother with me, since you seem to be Sam's angel, but...please help me find the strength to tell Sam. Please let Sam be okay. Let him be okay.

Dean glanced at Sam, who was still watching him with those wide eyes.

Then a voice sounded in his mind, crystal clear, yet not frightening to the surprised hunter.

All will be well, Dean Winchester.

"...I heard dad talking to another hunter over the phone. He...he's not so thrilled about your powers, Sammy. He...He told the hunter to meet him in the morning and he...he was going to attack you. Maybe even..." Dean couldn't finish.

Sam was silent and Dean chanced a look at him. Sam's chin rested on his chest, his shoulders shaking. Tears glistened in the moonlight as they fell.

"Sammy..." Dean pulled the car over to the side of the road, then quickly scooted across the seat, gathering a shaking Sam into his arms. "I'm so sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry. It's gonna be okay, though. I promise. It's gonna be okay."

Dean held Sam as his baby brother sobbed silently, his weak form shaking with grief and pain. "It'll be okay, Sammy. I promise. I promise I'll make it okay."

I promise.

"Where are we gonna go?" Sam managed through his sobs.

Dean tightened his hold on Sam supportingly. "Bobby's. We're gonna go to Bobby's."

...

Dean drove for 12 hours straight before he finally had to stop. Sam slept through most of it and slept through an exhausted Dean carrying him into their motel room and tucking him into the bed farthest from the door.

Dean fell into bed and knew no more.

...

When Sam woke, he was rather taken aback by his change in surroundings. They were in a new motel room. Dean was sitting at the table, cleaning his gun in silence.

"Dean?"

His older brother turned at the call. "Hey Sammy. Slept long enough, lazy #$."

Sam snorted. "Excuse me for saving your butt."

Dean paused, then continued. "Well, perhaps I can let it slide this once, then."

Sam smiled a little, staring at the ceiling for a moment, thinking about everything but what, who, they had left behind.

Dean sighed suddenly, throwing the gun and cleaning rag down on the table, standing and striding over to Sam, then sitting down on the bed beside him.

His voice was soft, yet heavy with guilt. "How did you manage with all this for so long by yourself, Sammy? I just...I can't stop thinking about...about the last few years with...with all the hunts and all the pain and wounds and crap going on and I just..."

Dean grunted in frustration, unsure of how to express what he was thinking.

Sam looked at his brother, sympathy in his gaze. He had already forgiven his older brother. In his eyes, it was partly his fault as well. He hadn't given him a chance either, had he?

Fear was a powerful weapon and it had almost destroyed them both. It had destroyed their father and in a sense it had destroyed their family as well. Sam's mind shied away from that thought.

"Winchester stubborn, I suppose. It...I mean, it was exhausting, you know? I was always afraid, always wondered if I would mess up and someone would find out and I would be hunted. There was no real peace, I could never really rest. But...you know I'm not mad at you, Dean, right? I'm just so...so glad that the secret is out, that the hiding is over."

Sam's voice was strained with emotional pain and extreme exhaustion, as he added, "I'm just so tired of fearing the future. It should be okay, but...but now with dad...there's a whole new reason to be afraid."

Dean frowned thoughtfully, feeling better knowing that by some miracle Sam wasn't mad at him. "Everyone fears the unknown, Sammy, and the future is the biggest unknown there is." he said after a moment.

Sam's wide, tearful eyes met Dean's. "Then what do I do?"

Dean laid his hands on Sam's shoulders, looking his baby brother in the eyes. "The key, Sammy, is who you have in your life. There is no need to truly fear the future when you are surrounded by those who love you, who will have your back, and will face that unknown future with you." Dean tightened his hold on Sam's shoulders. "I love you, Sammy." he said fiercely. "You hear me? I love you. I have your back. And I will face the future with you. So you don't need to be afraid because I will always be by your side. Dad made his choice and I made mine. I choose you."

Sam buried his face in Dean's chest, grabbing him in a tight hug, shaking, trying to restrain his sobs. He simply nodded, unable to speak.

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam tightly, rubbing his back soothingly.

"The angel was right about one thing, Sammy. You will never be alone."