A/N: Well guys, it's been one hell of a ride. This is the last chapter. I hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. A special thanks to Amy for her late night chats and support to help me actually finish this story. And to Donna who made me dig deeper into the mythology of my own series, whose help has been most appreciated and will be seen in greater detail in the next story.

And a big thanks to all the reviewers who have stuck with me from beginning to end.

A/N #2: Some angst, a little swearing, and some family love.

Disclaimer: Nope, the boys and Bobby and Castiel and all other minor characters seen in Supernatural are not mine. I think they'd be safer with me than Kripke, but I haven't yet been able to claim ownership.

Dean yawned loudly, raising his arms above his head and stretched, before descending the stairs, feeling the familiar creaks and squeaks of the floor beneath his feet. He meandered into the kitchen, watching absently as Bobby used a pair of tongs to pull a piece of bacon out of the wrappings and into the frying pan, hearing the sizzle and pop as the bacon began to fry.

"Morning." He murmured, still trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes as he opened a cupboard door and pulled out a mug, reaching for the coffee pot while looking for a clean spoon.

"Morning." Bobby replied over his shoulder, moving over to the fridge and pulling it open, bending down and picking up a carton of eggs from the second shelf, absently kicking the door closed when he was finished, placing the eggs on the counter beside the stove.

Dean pulled the fridge door open again, reaching for the coffee cream and closing the door, liberally pouring the thick cream into his coffee, stirring absently as he looked out the window at the bright sun kissed sky. "What time is it?"

Bobby checked his watch between flipping the pieces of bacon over. "About quarter past eight."

"Have you seen Sam?" Dean woke up to an empty room and hadn't heard his brother leaving their room that morning. It didn't want to admit to being a bit panicked initially, before common sense dictated that Sam probably went downstairs for coffee, the freaking early bird.

He wouldn't admit that the thought of Sam taking off had crossed his mind.

Bobby pulled open the carton of eggs, cracking one open against the side of a frying pan and watched as the egg dropped onto the worn surface, spitting and crackling and he tossed the empty shell into the garbage can at his feet. "He came down just before seven." He turned around so that he was talking to the elder Winchester face to face. He noticed that the cup in Dean's hand had stopped its advancement towards his mouth, his eyebrows raised. "What?" He asked grumpily.

Dean couldn't believe it had taken him this long to notice the white apron that the elder hunter was wearing, and couldn't help but snicker at the words kiss the chief. "I know you're the man of the house, but I didn't think that meant you were also the woman of the house too."

He could just catch the faintest glimmer of red on Bobby's face, and fought hard not to laugh out loud.

"Shut it boy, or you can get your own damn food." He barked, returning his attention to the stove, flipping the strips of crisp bacon over again and turning down the heat on the element.

Dean shook his head, hiding his smile behind a swallow of coffee as he brought the mug to his face. "Do you know where Sam went?" He asked after another few slurps, one arm leaning against the counter by the sink.

Bobby didn't turn around. "I think he's outside. At least, that's the last time I saw him after we talked."

Ah. So perhaps that's why Sam had gotten up early. It made sense. Dean still wasn't sure how much Sam told Bobby about what happened last night, or what was actually going on with Sam, but he assumed the information his brother had given Bobby had been sufficient enough that the grizzled old hunter wasn't hunting down one of their asses, demanding answers.

Bobby glanced at him over his shoulder, as if reading his thoughts. "We talked enough. Go get your brother. Breakfast is almost ready."

"Yeah." He muttered, pushing himself away from the counter and moving towards the front door, his coffee still in hand. He pushed the door open and grabbed its frame before it could slam back in place. He let it close quietly behind him, and stood on the porch, seeking out the tall brooding bulky form that was his brother. "There you are." He spotted Sam sitting on the edge of the railing, one leg propped up on the railing while the other one stabilized him by resting on the patio, the tip of his sneaker brushing against the deck.

There was a slight breeze in the air, causing Sam's bangs to sway a bit with the breeze, dancing across his forehead. Dean followed Sam's gaze out into the yard, but didn't see what held the youngest Winchester's attention so thoroughly.

Dean settled down beside Sam, forearms leaning against the railing, cradling the mug in his hands as he stared out into the vast museum of rusted cars, trucks and other hunks of junk Bobby had lying around. "I don't see a beautiful woman dancing topless, so I can't figure out what you're staring at." He teased, noticing the slight curl of his sibling's lips as he tried not to smile.

"You bring me one?" He asked, finally turning his head and meeting his brother's eyes for the first time that morning.

Dean frowned slightly, noticing the tightness around Sam's eyes, as if he was forcing himself to be polite. And if he was being honest, the wound above his eyebrow looked almost healed. That's odd. "What? My coffee? Get your own, bitch." He teased, bringing the mug up to his lips to take another sip, just to be ornery.

Until Sam snagged it out of his hands, taking a rather large swallow for himself.

"Hey!" Dean hissed, making a move to grab his coffee, but found himself grabbing air as Sam danced out of his reach, now leaning six feet away against the paneling of the house. "Jesus, you move fast." He stammered thickly, feeling his jaw begin to slip open in surprise. Sam was fast, but damn.

Sam held the mug in one hand, smirking like the cat that caught the canary. "Could use a little more sugar." He answered dryly, taking another swig from the mug before walking over to his brother and placing the mug back in Dean's hands.

Dean glanced down. The mug was empty. "Bastard." Dean grumbled, but it held no heat.

The banter died off, leaving two silent brothers in its wake. Dean manipulated the now empty mug between his fingers while Sam shifted the weight off one foot and transferred it to the other, neither one knowing what to say.

Dean finally broke the silence, eyes finding a spot on the panelling behind Sam's head to stare at. "Bobby says he wants us in- breakfast is almost ready." He hitched his thumb towards the door

Sam nodded silently, hands now jammed into his pockets as the wind nipped at his fingertips. "We should hit the road today or tomorrow." He said roughly, pushing himself off the wall he'd been leaning on and moving towards the wooden steps, face hidden by bangs as a breeze gently brushed them into his eyes.

Dean swallowed hard. "Why? You got somewhere you need to be?"

Sam shook his head. "We're safer on the road than staying in one place." He answered tiredly, rubbing his hand against his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of stubble there – he needed to shave after breakfast.

Dean ducked his head. He got the hidden meaning. We're putting Bobby in danger by staying here. "Yeah, okay." He absently scratched his neck, grimacing a bit when he touched a bruise near his left shoulder blade from where Sam had pinned him against the barn wall when they had been fighting last night.

He shut his eyes to try and block out the images. Not going there. "Anyways," he sniffed, shoving one hand into his jeans pocket, "Breakfast should be ready, so I'm going to go grab something to eat – before Bobby manages to put it all away. Man's a machine at the table." He had only taken a couple of steps before a strong hand wrapped around his upper arm, stilling his movements.

"Dean." Sam seemed to falter, biting his tongue like he usually did when he didn't know what to say. He glanced sharply away, and then looked back at his older brother, a multitude of emotions and questions playing across his face. "I'm sorry." He finally said, voice full of regret. "For everything." He looked down between them, hand still firmly wrapped around Dean's bicep, and let out a sigh, before bringing his head back up to meet Dean's pain filled eyes. "I know it doesn't change anything, but it still needs to be said."

Dean swallowed hard, nodding his head while he tried to dredge up some words for his brother. "It helps." He said simply, tapping Sam's arm that held his own. "And I'm sorry too." Apologizing wasn't going to solve all their problems – they both had wounds, both physically and mentally, that would take time to heal. But they were finally being honest with one another, and stepping up and putting aside their pride and differences and admitting some fault. It was a step in the right direction. Dean knew the process would take a long time before he and Sam could work everything out between them – but he was in this for the long haul and he desperately wanted to have a good relationship with his brother again, and perhaps starting over would be the best way for them both to move on.

Sam finally released his arm and Dean sniffed, both standing their awkwardly. "So can we please go eat now?" Dean almost begged, needing to get away from the emotional atomic bomb that had been dropped onto his lap. Geez, it wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning yet!

Sam snorted, shaking his head in amusement. "Go on, I'll be there in a minute." He watched his sibling practically rip the door off its hinges as he made a mad dash inside, probably to get away from the emotionally charged talk they just had, as well as to get the first handful of crisp bacon Bobby had no doubt just put on the table.

The youngest Winchester sighed, moving out towards the railing again. He placed is large hands on the banister and leaned over, looking out towards the sky, which had clouded over with dark clouds and a deep rumbling that signalled thunder. He narrowed his eyes at the sky, even as a large gust of wind whipped through the narrow patio, his hair blowing haphazardly across his face.

The final setup was all in place now – the chessboard all laid out, and the first pieces were about to move. God and the devil were about to play the most dangerous game of chess this world had ever seen. And Sam needed a way to tip the game in his favour, or risk losing everything.

And he knew how he could tip the balance, but to do so?

It would mean losing everything.

Including Dean.

His thoughts drifted to the conversation he'd had earlier that morning out on the steps of Bobby's junkyard, where the first of Heaven's pieces had made a move.

Sam stood by at the top of the front stairs, leaning against one of the columns holding the front porch in place, not staring at anything in particular, but eyes scanning over the tops of broken cars, body motionless as he settled into the silent scenery.

There was a presence behind him.

Sam's eyes flickered gold for a moment, head tilted slightly to the left, and just on the fringe of his peripheral, he could just make out a long tan coat. "Castiel." He breathed, eyes returning to the front yard, ignoring his new companion.

"Sam." The angel replied courteously, moving so that he was standing to Sam's right, gaze also roaming across the junkyard.

"Dean is upstairs. Don't wake him." Sam spoke calmly, eyes directed forward without looking at the angel beside him. There was an undercurrent of protectiveness in his tone.

"I did not come here for your brother." Castiel finally turned his head so that he was speaking directly to Sam, eyes pinched at the corners from stress. "I came here for you."

Sam huffed, finally gazing down on the shorter man. "Of course you did." He shifted his stance, moving slightly so that he still leaned on the column, but twisted around so that he faced the angel. "Speak." Sam cool voice demanded, broaching no argument. Since he'd regained his memories, he no longer felt any lingering doubts or fears of the angels. He was one. And in the hierarchy of angels, Sam was damn near at the top. Before that, there was always that thrum of fear in him, a lingering bad taste in his mouth like moth balls when Castiel and Uriel were around, because of what he had been doing with Ruby. It was human fallacy concerning angels and demons that coloured his thinking and judgement, and he didn't have that weakness now.

Dean would think he'd lost his humanity if he guessed at Sam's train of thought.

But Sam was falling back on instinct, one that far outweighed his twenty-six year experience as a human. Archs were God's most feared weapons for a reason. They weren't the foot soldiers that Castiel was – they were the warriors that wrought destruction without any conscience or indecisiveness.

Indecisiveness was what killed him the first time.

He would make sure it didn't happen again. Nor let it happen to Dean.

He could hear the rapid beating of the host's heart, could see the shift in Castiel's eyes as he processed the command from a figure that now held more power and authority than he did.

"You need to finish your task, Sam." Castiel started, letting out a long suffering sigh as he cocked his as he stared at Sam once again. "You are needed elsewhere."

"I know where I'm needed." Sam hissed back, eyes blazing.

Castiel moved silently to the railing behind Sam, resting his arms on the rusted metal, eyes looking out towards the sun beginning to peak through the clouds. "The seals cannot be remade unless all seven of the arch angels have reunited." He breathed, sounding frustrated and exhausted all at once.

Sam frowned at him, pushing off the column and standing next to the angel. "I know that Cas. I was one of the seven that sealed him away the first time."

The shorter man turned towards him, blue eyes narrowed. "And yet you are set to do nothing, even when you know what God commands."

The young hunter's hand clamped tightly around the railing, fingers digging into the metal, eyes swimming in anger. "I am not bound by God's will, Cas. You know that."

Castiel shook his head, eyes downcast. "No, you are not." He looked up then. "So you will abandon your duty, then? To stay with your brother?"

Sam closed his eyes, chin resting momentarily on his chest. "To protect him." Sam breathed, eyes staring out into the yard once again. "The others can mend and rebuild some of the seals. They don't need me for everything."

Castiel was quiet a moment. "Another angel cannot replace you, Sam." He glanced at the younger man. "Not since you resurfaced."

"I know." Sam answered quietly, feeling a breeze come in from the east, causing the tree branches at the edge of the property to sway. "I know how the hierarchy and chain of command works, Cas. Only when one of us is killed or destroyed, can another take his place."

Castiel nodded sombrely, eyes resting on the coming sunrise. "You are vulnerable, Sam. Lucifer will strike you hard and fast if he can find you."

Sam snorted. "I know. He already knows I'm weaker in this state, and he'll try and use that to his advantage." Sam shook his head miserably, the sound of birds chirping in the distance a mockery of the situation at hand. "But I can't change that Castiel." He turned to the angel, bringing himself up to his full height. "There is still work I have to do here, first. There are other avenues I have to look into." At the angel's obvious frustration, Sam continued. "I'll consider the alternative when I have no other options left."

Cas shook his head. "You are putting yourself and Dean at risk, Sam."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "He'd be at more risk with the alternative."

The shorter man sighed, rubbing his face with one hand in frustration. "Perhaps. But Lucifer will not stop until hell has risen from its ashes." The angel argued darkly, and Sam could see the worry lines etched in the man's forehead.

"I understand. And I know Lucifer far better than you do. I know what he's capable of." Sam ran a hand through his dark brown hair, feeling the strands tickle his face when it bounced back into place.

The angel sighed. "I must go." Castiel hesitated a moment, before pushing away from the banister. "Be cautious Sam." The angel warned as he turned to leave.

Sam nodded tersely. "I will. Take care of yourself."

There was a gust of wind, and then Sam was standing alone on the porch, thoughts swirling in his mind, as he watched the pinks and orange colours of the sky bring in the morning.

That's how Dean found him later on, thoughts racing after his discussion with Castiel. There was so much weight on both of their shoulders, and Sam took on the weight without question. Sam knew pressure, sure, but this was beyond anything he had experienced so far. Because everything had changed.

Having a family had changed it.

Dean had changed him.

Sam knew Lucifer would try and attack Dean, in order to try and break Sam. He knew that Sam's only human weakness was his brother, and everyone else knew it too. His Achilles' heel, complete with a bad mouth and a taste for classic rock.

Sam had to protect his brother at all costs, even at the cost of himself. He could be replaced – Dean could not.

Because Dean had to help with the final seal – the one that started it has to finish it, after all.

"Sam! Are you coming in or have you grown roots?" Dean yelled from inside the house, pulling Sam from his dark thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

Sam glanced once more at the coming storm outside, feeling it echo inside his own inner thoughts.

The war was here, and soon enough, there won't be anywhere to hide from the encroaching maelstrom.

Sam pulled the screen door open, allowing it to swing shut behind him just as the first clap of thunder roared overhead.

A/N: Well that be all folks for this story! I will continue on with this series and I am already working on the next story, so have no fear! And if you're confused on the who and what's of Sam and Castiel's conversation about Sam's 'alternative', I did that on purpose. It will be revealed in the next story. :p

A/N #2: I had a reviewer ask if the title of this story had any hidden meaning. In fact, it did. The title 'white shores' was a portion of lyrics taken from Annie Lennox's song, Into the West that I'm sure some are familiar with - it was one of the most famous songs from Lord of the Rings. I've posted the lyrics down below so you can maybe connect some of the dots of where I might have been inspired by this song.

Thanks again guys for all of your support. Hope to see you guys reviewing on the next segment of the series!

Into the West by Annie Lennox

Lay down
Your sweet and weary head
Night is falling
You've come to journey's end
Sleep now
And dream of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across the distant shore

Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away
Safe in my arms
You're only sleeping

[Chorus]
What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home

And all will turn
To silver glass
A light on the water
All souls pass

Hope fades
Into the world of night
Through shadows falling
Out of memory and time
Don't say: «We have come now to the end»
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again

And you'll be here in my arms
Just sleeping

[Chorus]

And all will turn
To silver glass
A light on the water
Grey ships pass
Into the West