Author's Notes: This is it. The finale. The End. I finally finished it. Yay!!! It does take me time, but I hope that you've enjoyed this angst filled cry fest as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

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Five days later

Bobby watched in silence from the couch, amazed at how Dr. Ames could take over his entire home within a few days. The man had even hired a cleaning woman to 'remove the permanent dust fixtures' nearly embedded in his furniture and walls. His bookshelves had been neatly reorganized alphabetically by demon first, then by author and importance. There was even a shelf for 'most used' books, for easy access. Bobby had to admit, there were some improvements: the kitchen, bedrooms, and bathrooms were now glistening. Looking at the changes, Bobby had to admit, it was nice eating in a clean kitchen. Though, he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten on the kitchen table. It usually was covered in car parts and/or research books.

He'd let Mac use his bedroom, after all, he was a guest. Bobby had gone to his room to get a sweater after a hard working day in his junk yard, and found that even his sock drawers had been reorganized according to color. The dirty ones he'd thrown in there once he'd found out The Scholar was coming in order to tidy up had been removed and laundered. Hell, even the bed was made up nicely with new crisp sheets that looked as if they'd been soaked in Clorox, and then starched. And to Bobby's amazement, there was even a bouquet of flowers on the night stand, the beautiful scent of flowers masking the previous scent of grease, sweat, and dirty socks. He just shook his head and walked out of the door.

Yes, his life had been high jacked by the illustrious Dr. Mackland Ames, world famous neurosurgeon with a shitload of cash in his name and the only living Triad member of the Brotherhood. Mac obviously needed to feel in control and if the man felt the need to 'pimp da house', Bobby wasn't going to stop him. If the new forty five inch LCD television and surround sound system wasn't complainin', he wasn't gonna either. The cracks in the roof and walls had been fixed by an expensive roofing company and even the Devil's Trap had been professionally re-painted and glossed over with an efficiency that Bobby ain't ever seen. (Hell, the last time he'd had a leak in the roof, it'd taken the roofers three weeks to fix it; not, a day and a half.) Yeah, Bobby thought, it was nice to be stinking rich.

From what he'd been able to figure out, reorganizing and repairing the house was the only thing that was keeping the man from running back to the shit-hole the boys were holding up in. And if it was hard on Dr. Ames to keep from checking up on the Winchesters, it was nearly impossible to keep Junior from sneaking off.

Bobby tried to keep Reaves occupied, but the kid was less interested in cleaning that he was. Most of the time, Bobby found the young man sitting in John's truck, his hands inching towards the key and almost praying for guidance. Mac had ordered them NOT to interfere with Sam and Dean, making it clear to his own son that he was in charge, for now.

He couldn't help but think they were all about to be in for a change. Bobby might act like the town hick, but that don't mean that he was one. Soon it would be time for the new Triad. The tides were about to change, and he only hoped they all wouldn't be wiped out by the tidal wave to follow. The demon attack on Sam—possessing him…Bobby feared it was merely the rain before the storm.

And if Bobby felt that way, he could only imagine what Dean felt. The young man was heading towards a complete breakdown—they could all see it. Depression was evident and although Dean fought hard to hide it, they knew him. John's death caused a major crack in the foundation, Sam possession yet another. He knew that they all feared what would happen to him if the pressure continued. Would he break completely? Or would he rebuild himself into stone, to become emotionally stoic and unreachable? Dean Winchester would be the next Guardian; he would be responsible for keeping it all together. Bobby only hoped that he would be able to get through all of this shit intact. They needed him on top of his game; there were no reset buttons. This was no video game, it was war.

Only time would tell—time and history. For he knew, the war that was coming would surely be in the history books. Already there were stories told and spread about the famous Dean Winchester—not that Sam or Caleb weren't of any less importance—but in all teams, there was one that outshined the others, someone special. And Dean Winchester, an ordinary man with no powers, visions, or psychic ability was incredibly special. Dean was the one that children looked up to—he would be the one who would be immortalized as a hero forever. A normal man who would fight to save the world. Bobby prayed to Pastor Jim's God that they would be worthy of his sacrifice, for Dean was the one who'd sacrificed nearly everything he had.

It was funny; he would've thought that Dean Winchester would've heard of his own legend. He smirked at the thought of Mac's Geek Squad meeting the young man. Especially Boone Adams's son, Riley…that pup would probably jump up and down like one of those 'fan-boys' excited and screaming like a girl. But perhaps, Bobby thought, it was better that he didn't know about it; Dean was utterly too cocky for his own good…it wouldn't do for him to get a bigger head.

Caleb walked into the new living room, a tray of coffee and snacks in hand, jarring Bobby out of his musing. "Sam just called." He mentioned.

"Yeah?" Caleb asked, "How's Dean?"

Bobby had to hide his reaction, Caleb was becoming too predictable. "He's better. Well enough that they're on their way here."

The younger man put the tray down with a smile…the first real smile Bobby had seen for days. "Thank god. I thought I'd have to knock out my dad in order to go see them."

"Yeah," Bobby nodded, "Mac's lost it." He laughed, pointing to the window sill. "He thought it'd be nice to carve out decorative grooves in the window sills."

Caleb laughed heartily as he handed the man a cup of coffee. "Yeah, I saw him pour the salt in the grooves. I asked him what he was doing and he had said, 'Caleb there's no reason why salt should be poured in a pile along the edge of the window. If there was a groove, the salt would be lining the window and yet still look attractive.' I just watched." They both laughed. "I can't believe you haven't said anything. I mean, this is your house. It's been like this since I could remember—and now Dad's taken it over."

Bobby turned on the television to the NFL Sunday football game. Both men sunk into the couch as they snacked on the chips, popcorn, and cheese crackers Caleb had brought out. "You know, Mac's a good man. He's responsible for the entire Brotherhood now, and it's a heavy weight on a man's shoulders to handle alone. Yet, he's doing it. He's working every day to make sure we're all safe." Bobby took a sip of coffee. "I don't know if I would be able to handle it. Hell, I know I wouldn't be able to handle it. It's one of the reasons why I turned down the Knight's position after Elkins. You see, I'm a damn good hunter—."

"Or so you think." Quipped Caleb.

"Shut it." Bobby snapped back. "Like I was saying…It takes a damned good man to run the whole show. That's what Mac is. So, if rearranging my house keeps him from falling apart—he could knock it down and I wouldn't care."

Caleb munched on a chip, nodding. "Yeah. You're right. I'm lucky to have him. If it wasn't for Mac, I'd be dead right now; either by the hand of hunters or my own."

"Damned lucky, kid. My vote was to toss you and your attitude in the middle of the woods, so you could be raised by wolves. Lucky for you, Mac and Jim stepped in and stopped me."

"Haha, Bobby." Caleb threw a chip at his friend. "Not funny."

Bobby threw a handful of popcorn at him in retaliation, just in time to have Mac walk in. The older man looked as if he were about to have a stroke as he stared at the popcorn and chips that had fallen to the floor. He looked so disappointed at them, huffed, then walked away.

"Hey, Dad!" Caleb shouted, stopping him from leaving the room.

"Caleb?"

"Sit with us. Watch the game." Caleb motioned to the seat next to him. "After all, you did buy the TV, you might as well watch it."

Mac looked around the room, trying to think of a way to get out of it. "Caleb, I'm busy."

Bobby huffed, before finishing off his cup of coffee. "Yeah, we noticed."

Caleb got up, moving towards his father. "Dad, I know that you're worried…but you're driving us insane. Now, Bobby just told me that the boys are on their way. They should be here in a few hours. So, you can relax now, Dad. Just sit with us." Then to top it off, he pulled off his own version of what he called 'Sammy's puppy dog eyes'.

He waited until Mac nodded, before pulling him over to the couch and putting a bowl of chips in his hands. Mac looked at the chips, then opened his mouth to complain. Caleb cut him off before he could start. "No, I really don't want to hear about how much fat or sodium or whatever the hell is in them…just eat 'em. You're allowed to pig out during football games."

"Hell, it's required." Bobby interjected. He pointed his chin towards the sparkling kitchen. "Junior, why don't you go and get us a couple of beers. You should be able to find them, considering most of my food was thrown out." He glared at Mac as he said the last part.

"Bobby, most of that food was expired—the rest of it was so filled with cholesterol, you might as well have just pumped the fat directly into your veins. You do know that heart disease is the number one cause of death in America?"

Bobby clenched his teeth, trying to not say anything. He just turned up the TV surround sound and tried to drown out his annoying lecture.

Caleb came in a few seconds later with three beers. He handed on to his father, then Bobby, before twisting the cap off his own. He sat down next to his father, and tried not to laugh at the scene. His father was animatedly lecturing their friend about the dangers of cholesterol, while Bobby just said, 'uh huh' every couple of seconds—clearly not listening to a word he was saying. The television was so loud that the roar of the audience in the stadium might've been in the living room.

Bobby took another sip of his beer. Yes, this was his family—and he loved them dearly.

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A few hours later

The familiar sound of the Impala's engine alerted the men to Sam and Dean's arrival. Caleb immediately got up to meet them. He watched as Sam got out of the drivers' side before reaching over and pulling the passenger side door open. He smiled at his friend, Dean was asleep. His eyes were covered with sunglasses and a small fleece blanket was draped over his legs.

Sam walked over to him, smiling. "He's asleep." Caleb patted his shoulder in greeting.

"Yeah, I noticed." He shook his head fondly. "Let's get him up, huh?"

Sam agreed, moving so that he could wake his brother. Sam gently placed his hand on top of his head and then patted him. "Dean. We're here. Time to get up."

Dean slowly opened his eyes, realizing they had stopped. "We're here." He mumbled, sleepily. He rubbed his eyes under the glasses, then pulled the frames down and threw them in the glove compartment where they usually resided.

"Damien," Dean smirked once he'd seen his friend, "Couldn't wait for us to get here, huh?"

Reaves smiled back, then wrapped his arm around his friend—taking care not to touch his injured shoulder. He had noticed that his arm was in a brace. "Deuce, you have no idea."

Sam followed the older men inside, shaking his head as their friend told them about the extreme makeover: home edition his father had done on the old junk yard home.

They all laughed as they walked in on Mac vacuuming the floor by Bobby's feet. Bobby was glued to the television; not paying any attention to the doctor's cleaning frenzy.

Mac stopped the machine as he spotted the boys walk in. "Sam. Dean. You're here." He walked over to them, giving them each a quick hug and visual inspection. "Are you alright now?"

Dean smiled at the doctor. "Yeah, Mac. We're great. Thank you." He looked him straight in the eye as he spoke—wanting the older man to know how appreciated he was.

"And you're feeling better, I see? No more fever? Lightheadedness?" Mac grabbed his wrist before he could pull away and took his pulse.

Dean shot his brother a deer-in-the-headlights look, making Sam speak up. "Mac, he's fine now. I've been taking care of him—hell, I've practically been his slave. His shoulder gets a little tight, but it's healing properly. I figured that it would be less of a 'pull' if he just wore the brace."

Mac stared at Dean for a few seconds, then Sam. He nodded, happy that they were alright. "Okay. But, I still want you to take it easy until the shoulder is completely healed."

"Yes, sir." Dean saluted him. Mac shook his head, but smiled at the antics.

Sam and Dean followed Mac and Caleb into the living area. Dean stopped short, nearly causing a collision as Sam ran into his back. Dean grunted, but was able to say standing. "Holy shit! I thought you were just joking about the make-over. That's an awesome TV! And I don't think I've EVER seen this place this clean." He looked around the room in complete awe. "Seriously, the place looks great."

Sam walked into the 'office' area and gasped at the newly designed library. "Wow. That's amazing. The books are organized in according to demonology."

Caleb rolled his eyes, "Yeah, the little geek would notice the library first."

Dean laughed. "Nice." He walked over to Bobby, who'd yet to move off the couch. "Bobby."

"Uh huh." Bobby answered.

Mac stared at him, now realizing that he'd been 'uh huh'ing' him for the last two hours. The man clearly hadn't heard a word he'd been saying.

In a surprising move, Mac walked in front of the television and shut it off with a flourish. "I knew it! I told you that television would rot your brain."

Bobby blinked as the television screen adjusted to being turned off. "Then why'd you buy it?"

Mac opened his mouth, then quickly shut it. He re-opened it, but clearly didn't know how to answer the simple question. "I don't know! Peer pressure, I suppose."

Everyone laughed at his confusion. "So, there was a really hot sales lady, huh, Mac?" Dean jeered, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

There was an uproar of laughter. Bobby took it as an opportunity. "I wonder what Esme would say about that."

"Esme! I—she's just a friend." Mac blushed, a deep red staining his cheeks.

Caleb slapped his hand across his forehead. "Dad, please! What about the whole famous 'hormones don't control your actions' lecture!"

Mac became flustered, "It wasn't like that. Keep your minds out of the gutter, boys! And my relationships aren't any of your business, Bobby!" He turned on Bobby.

The two argued back and forth, making the younger men roll their eyes and go into the other room. Bobby and Mac were like an old married couple sometimes. They could sure get into it.

Sam was amazed at the change in the room. He looked up and saw the Devil's Trap that he'd—Meg cracked was now repaired. Sam had to admit, the place looked better than it ever had before. The destruction that he'd—Meg had caused was gone…erased as if it never happened.

"I'm glad that you and Sam are alright, Dean." Caleb mentioned as they walked through the room.

"Yeah, we're fine now. He told me you beat him up for me."

Caleb laughed, "Yeah, but don't get mad, I was just defending your honor, Princess."

Dean hit him on the shoulder. "Yeah, he might've deserved it. Just don't do it again. No one is allowed to beat up Sam—than me, of course."

"You're the only person allowed to beat up your brother. Got it!" A sly look crossed his face, "So, what'd you make Sammy do to make it up to you?"

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Well, let's just say the Impala is as clean as Bobby's house. Plus, I made him buy me every kind of pie in existence. He erased the website, but before he did—I made him put up a picture of himself—naked, of course. The comments some of his friends made—Woah. I mean, I thought they were all a bunch of geeks. This one girl—let's just say, she could've been a phone sex operator—or at least the internet version of one."

They laughed. "I don't think that was exactly what my dad had in mind—but it works. I don't think Sammy'll be doing anything stupid like that again."

Caleb motioned for Dean to sit on one of the newly reupholstered chairs. "Wow. Mac really went all out. Didn't he?" Dean waved his hand at the room.

Caleb sat next to him, watching Sam go through the bookshelves. "Yeah. He was really worried, so he overcompensated. I think he was afraid that you'd…"

Dean stared at his friend, "That I'd kill myself." He finished the sentence for him.

"Yeah," Caleb said simply. "I was too. You really scared us this time, Deuce. The last time I'd seen you like that…you'd just lost your mom."

"Well, I just lost my Dad, Damien. Dad's dead and the demon is going after Sammy—the brotherhood. I just—it was overwhelming. I think I just needed a break or something."

"I can understand that." Caleb sat there for a few minutes, just thinking. "Dean," he started seriously, "I need you to tell me you weren't trying to commit suicide."

Dean pulled back in shock, confused and upset. "What?" His voice was loud, making Sam turn towards them.

Caleb grabbed his hand, stopping him from trying to escape. "You didn't intentionally throw yourself in front of that bullet, right? I just –I need to know."

For a few minutes, all you could hear were sounds of breathing. Even Sam had stopped to listen to Dean's answer—the runt had obviously been eavesdropping on them. Caleb made a note to speak to him about it later.

"No." Dean looked upset. "I can't believe you'd think that I'd try to off myself. What, I'm not allowed to get upset? You think that I'm weak? That I'd actually try to kill myself?" He jumped up out of the chair, "I was tired. Hell, I was exhausted—you know, blood loss and all of that. So, I was emotional—so what? Now, you and Mac think I jumped in front of a bullet?"

The comments made Caleb freeze. Of course, Dean would think of suicide as a weakness. He'd been raised a soldier—the only honorable death was in battle (sacrificing yourself to save others). Caleb sat back in the chair. "You—I'd never seen you that bad. I'd started remembering the vision that I'd had—the one where you put a gun to your head—and it scared me. I just keep having this feeling—that you're going to kill yourself or get yourself killed on purpose."

Dean huffed, "We already talked about that, Caleb. It wasn't on purpose. You know that. So, what's your deal?"

Caleb stared at the floor. "I guess…I was just picturing myself in your shoes."

Sam started to slowly inch his way over to them, giving up on eavesdropping and just deciding to join them. He just listened, not wanting to disrupt their conversation—but wanted to be apart of it; to support them—comfort them, if necessary.

"What do you mean?" Dean encouraged.

"I don't think I've ever told you this…either of you." He included Sam in the conversation. Sam probably already knew—he'd given him his journal, but he'd never spoken about it to them before. He hadn't wanted them to think of him, as Dean stated, weak. "The day I met Mac and Jim—well, you know that I was in the hospital, right?" He waited until they nodded. "Well, what you don't know was that I tried to kill myself that day. I grabbed a policeman's gun and put it to my head. I wanted to die. After all I'd been through; I just wanted it to end. Mac—he saved me in more ways than one. Your family saved me—You, Sam, John—all of you…you gave me something that I hadn't had in a long time. Love, a family, the brotherhood."

Dean was stunned, "I didn't know that, I'm sorry." Sam echoed his sorrow. He put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"It's okay," Caleb patted the younger man's hand, "I was a little kid and it's in the past. I just know what it's like to lose the ones you love and feel like you just want everything to end. And I hope that, if you feel that way, you'll come to me…keep me from worrying, huh? I just—I really don't want to lose anyone else, okay? Especially like that."

Dean nodded. "Okay. The same goes for you, too, Damien, Sammy."

Caleb gave a half hearted smile. "Deal."

They all clasped hands, a promise made.

"So," Sam said offhand, trying to break the ice, "How long do you think it'll be before this place goes back to the way it was?"

Caleb looked around, "Not long."

Dean laughed quietly. "I bet Bobby is counting the seconds until Mac leaves, just so that he can let his dogs back into the house."

Soon, the sounds of healing laughter flooded through the small house, causing Bobby and Mac to stop their fight and look up. They both smiled together, comforted by the sounds of happy 'children'.

Real change—it was an illusion. You might change the outside of something—but the inside will always be the same.

The End

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So, how'd you like it? Please review!!! Many of you wanted that Dean/Caleb moment…I think it was delivered!