A/N: Here si the last chapter...As I said I hope it was worth the wait. I am thankful for all the reviews. I wasn't sure it would go over as well as it did. Thanx again.
Disclaimer: Much thanx to CW and Eric Kripke for giving us these wonderful characters to manipulate at our will, hehe.
Awoken by a strange sound, Dean shot up, trying to adjust his eyes. Looking at the clock, it was after eight o'clock. Nearly three hours had past. As he wiped at his eyes, he heard the sound again, this time it was louder. It reminded him of a tape-recorder playing a blank tape on full blast. A strange hum that was emanating just outside his bedroom door. Turning on the bedside lamp, he saw something moving out there, a shadow under the door. Dean slowly opened the table's drawer, and slipped out his automatic. Quietly cocking it, he edged his way toward the door, careful not to make any noise.
Dean touched the door knob, but pulled back when a small static charge leapt from the metal to his hand. As he massaged his fingertips, the doorknob rattled, then the door began to shake. Dean stood fast, gun pointed at the wooden barrier.
The rattling intensified, the door banging against the trim, almost to a rhythm. Dean backed up an inch, but still had the gun trained on the door. Then the shaking stopped, the humming ceased. Everything was quiet. Dean waited a couple minutes before dropping his gun. Then he stepped closer toward the door, when it exploded off it's hinges, pieces flying everywhere. Dean ducked just as a large shard almost took off the top of his head.
Once the dust settled, Dean looked into the doorway, and what he saw almost stopped his heart. There, looking as healthy as the first day he had seen him, was Sam Maxwell. The shock was too much for Dean to handle, causing him to collapse.
XXXXX
"Sammy!" Dean sat up, sweat pouring down his face. The door was all in one piece, not a mark on it. He felt sick to his stomach, had prayed it had been real, but knew that there was no way that Sam could come back, not in this world. He dropped his head, hands instinctively surrounding it like a safety net. If he couldn't not see the outside world, it couldn't see him.
"I'm here Dean." Sam sat down lightly on the bed. Dean's heart skipped a beat. That was a voice he had longed to here the last seven nights, and now he had, or had he? Lifting his head, there was Sam, as if the last week had never happened.
Dean leapt from the bed, scared he was going bonkers. He pointed at Sam, mumbling something about ghosts and spirits. Sam smiled and then touched Dean's face. Dean's whole body turned to jelly, and he almost fell to the floor. Sam grabbed Dean's arms before he did, and hugged him hard. Dean held Sam tight. He was crying all over again.
"What are you doing here?" Dean asked once he was able to speak. He never let go of Sam, so afraid of losing him again. "You're dead, aren't you?"
Sam nodded. "Yes, yes I am." He turned from Dean, pulling away from his grasp. Dean tried to touch his shoulder, but he shrugged him off. He seemed upset about something. Even in death.
"You see Dean, I know now why I was having those visions. I know what happened that day." Sam sat back down on the bed, and gestured for Dean to sit with him.
"That day, something awful happened, something my mind just would not let me see, until much later." Sam took Dean's hand in his, and Dean could feel how warm he was. He missed that, and he wanted to stop his crazy talk, just to have one last moment with him. Just to be close to the man he loved.
"That crash was devastating. So much death and violence, and I was surprised I lived to tell about it." He squeezed Dean's hand.
"Well, the thing is, I didn't." He looked at Dean who was staring at him like he had just fallen of his rocker.
"Wait, no you were with me for almost a year. I touched you, we made love. I think I would know a dead man if I felt one." Dean dropped Sam's hand in disgust, unable to believe what he was telling him. It was unfathomable that this man next to him had been dead, even before they met.
"It's true Dean, but there's more..." Sam trained his eyes on Dean's, and Dean could see that he was not lying. It tore at him, and he did not like it. He was sick all over again.
"What do you mean 'there's more?' What else could there possibly be?"
Sam took Dean's hands in his. He closed his eyes, and Dean could feel a sharp pain resonate throughout his body. He tried to pull away from Sam, but it was futile. The pain intensified, causing him to close his own eyes. A moment later a light flashed in front of his eyes, then a very vivid vision.
He was walking down the aisle of a plane, moving around a stewardess, making it to his seat. As he sat down, he saw a young brunette sitting next to his seat. As she looked at him, he felt his heart stop. It was his sister, smiling and laughing. She was asking him why he was so late, and he was telling her there was a hold up at the gate, some guy he had to check out. She said that was typical, and then he sat down.
A few minutes later the man he had checked out walked on the plane. Dean was laughing with his sister, but when the man looked at him, they both smiled. Dean caught a glimpse of the man, and it was Sam. Jesus Christ! Dean wanted to vomit, wanted to scream, wanted to...to what???
Then another flash, this one not so happy. The plane was banging and listing to the left. Objects were crashing to the floor, the oxygen masks were falling and people were screaming. As they came closer and closer to the ground below, Deans head felt as if it would explode. This couldn't be real, he wasn't on this flight, was he?
Then the sound of shattering metal and glass. The cockpit slammed into a slew of trees, then the tail section broke off, lights flickering, wires zapping and sparking. Dean was flung forward, his sister crushed by the seats in front of her. He could feel blood seeping from his chest, but when he heard calling from the rear of the front section, he pulled himself to the voice.
There was Sam. His belt had held him in his seat, but it had snapped his ribs, and blood was flowing from his mouth. He was coughing and gagging, trying to free himself. Dean pulled at the belt, but every time he did, it just cut into Sam even more, causing more blood to spill from his lips. Finally Dean had to force himself to find his carry-on and get his knife and then cut Sam out.
Sam fell into Dean's lap, coughing once again. They stared into each other's eyes, and even though they were dying, Dean had fallen for this guy. It was just something is Sam's eyes, something sweet and innocent, yet sexy and dangerous at the same time. He had wished they could have gotten to know each other. As Sam's life disappeared before his eyes, Dean could feel his own beginning to dissipate. He was spitting up blood left and right, then as he stared at Sam's eyes one last time, they died together, holding each other's hands.
Sam let go of Dean's hands, and he fell to the floor, the vision still sharp in his mind. He was gasping, not sure what he had just seen.
"I died to, with you in my arms. That's why..." He looked up at Sam shaking his head. God had given him, them, a second chance. He had been grateful for every second, every minute, every hour. If he could do it again, he wouldn't change a thing. He had loved Sam with every fiber of his being, and no matter the outcome, it was love that would last all eternity.
Sam stood and took Dean's hand in his. Dean followed suit. He saw that Sam felt the same, and it warmed his heart. Sam leaned in and kissed Dean tenderly on the lips. As they did, the room lit up with bright light, warm and comforting. Sam pulled back and smiled.
"It's time." He gestured to where the light was the brightest. Dean nodded, and hooked his hand into Sam's. Together they walked the stairway to heaven, to be forever as one in eternity.
