A/N: I know this chapter is another short one. It will probably make the final chapter just as short. But with the holidays taking up so much time (retail and Christmas will suck out your soul), I didn't want to leave the story for so long. A big hug and thanks goes out to the kind soul that nominated this story for a SNFA fan fiction award in the "Oprah's Book Club" category in Round 16. It is great honor to be thought of as worthy. :-)

Sam headed for the shower in a huff. He wasn't stupid. He knew Dean well enough to know he was hiding something and he had a pretty good idea what. He wanted to get the car without his little brother seeing his fear. No matter how many times they discussed it, Dean refused to totally let his guard down around him. He refused to believe that Sam could see his flaws and still look up to him. To Sam, it was those supposed flaws that made his big brother the person he most wanted to be like. His need to put others before himself and have absolute faith in his family were only a couple. Dean would always be his hero.

He showered quickly on the off chance that Dean did only go for breakfast. He booted up the laptop and waited. Five minutes became fifteen and he knew he'd been right. At twenty-five minutes he began to worry. Seconds before he finished dialing his brother's number, he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine. It brought an unexpected rush of relief. He hadn't realized how much he missed the car, the sense of home, until that moment. The engine stopped, but he didn't hear the creak of the door. Maybe Dean needed a minute alone with his car. When the horn blared without a break, he knew something was wrong.

Rushing from the room with a dreaded sense of deja vu, he saw his brother slumped in front of the steering wheel, head pressing the horn. A paralyzing fear threatened to overwhelm him as he raced to open the door and check his brother's condition. The minute Sam made contact, Dean raised his head off the horn and gasped for air. For a second, Sam thought that maybe they made a mistake, that the ghost was back. Until he noticed Dean sounded more like he was hyperventilating than unable to breath.

"Dean? Dean! You have to calm down. You have to slow your breathing or you'll faint again." When the insinuation garnered no response, he grabbed Dean by the chin, turned his face so they were eye to eye and tried to get his brother to focus, to get himself under control. After what felt like an eternity, Dean finally got his breathing under control and jumped up. With the rush of fear past, Sam channeled the adrenaline into being pissed at his brother. "Damn it, Dean! You said you were just going for coffee. Why the hell couldn't you wait for me to go get the car?"

"Because I'm not freaking four! I didn't need my little brother to hold my hand and take me there. It's not that big a deal."

"Not that big a deal? Really? So that's why you were passed out in the front seat?"

"Just drop it, Sam!"

"Not this time. Why wouldn't you wait? I know there's a reason." He knew the reason. He just wondered if Dean could admit the truth. To his surprise, that was exactly what he did, including the panic attack and even why he was so embarrassed about it. Dean said their dad should've been the one to live, that he couldn't protect his little brother if he couldn't even keep a car safe.

Sam was so unprepared for what he said it took a few seconds for it to process. Not only did Dean believe that Sam would think less of him, he even believed less of himself. Apparently, his lack of an immediate response was confirmation in Dean's eyes. What came next, the look of defeat in his brother's eyes, as he spoke, shook his world. "Dad would've been able to keep you safe from the demon."

I can't believe you still don't think you're worth saving.

When he was able to speak again he said, "You know I don't feel that way. I can't believe you'd even think it." He tried to find the words to convince his brother he was serious. To let him know how glad he was he still had his brother. "I know it is an awful thing to say, but when Dad died a very small part of me was relieved it was him and not you. I would've done anything to bring you back. I know he and I couldn't work together like you and I do. We are a team, equals. With Dad, it was always his way no matter what. I do miss Dad. I miss him a lot. But if I had to choose, it would be my brother every time."

He watched the play of emotions on his brother's face, the hope, the fear, and the denial. When Dean looked away without saying or acknowledging the words, Sam knew he chose to accept denial. He would never believe he was good enough. The only way he could help was to repair the lost trust, in him and the Impala. As much as Dean tried to hide it, he knew his possession was still an issue. The nightmares were proof of that. So Sam would do what he always did. Drop the issue for the moment. They had time to deal with it.

After quickly eating their breakfast, Sam tried to keep the conversation on business and failed miserably. "So did Marcus give you Scott's journal? I'm hoping something in there will answer a few lingering questions."

"Yeah. I left it in the car. I figured you could read it while I drive."

"You want to leave now? I think we should wait until tomorrow, give your leg more of a chance to heal."

"This isn't up for discussion. Get your stuff packed. We leave in ten minutes."

"Could you at least let me drive?" The last thing he wanted to do was continually hound him about such a sensitive issue, but he wanted to avoid a replay of the last couple of weeks. He never wanted to see the inside of a hospital again.

"Sam, I'm fine. I'll be fine. Now let's get going."

Sam huffed at the stupidity of it all, but once Dean made up his mind it was impossible to change it. He gathered up what little was still lying around while his brother grabbed his bags and left to load them in the car. Trying not to be obvious, he watched as Dean left the room, glad that the limp was much less pronounced than yesterday.

He grabbed his duffel and computer bag and followed his brother out of the room. Maybe leaving this town and its bad memories would be a good thing, make forgetting easier. After stowing his gear, he picked up the journal and thumbed through it while Dean checked them out of the room. It looked like Scott started it before his parents died and wrote regularly until the end. He really hoped the answers he needed were in there. He watched Dean return from the hotel office, looking for any signs they should stay another day. Aside from the leg and the emotional damage, there was no reason for them to stay.

As expected, another offer to drive was rejected, though without the previous anger behind it. The only hurdle left was to get him to stop after only an hour or so of driving. They'd talked about some of the possible cases in Fort Worth. Dean hadn't said yes to any of them. But he also hadn't said no. Bobby e-mailed the contact information he needed for the people who might be able to help. Now he just had to get Dean to agree to meet with them. To accept what little help Sam had to offer. If it took playing the little brother card, that's precisely what he'd do.

As they got into the car, he kept an eye on his brother. He intended to be ready to take over if Dean had another panic attack. As it was, he tensed but didn't show any other signs of discomfort. "Think we could still swing by Fort Worth? I'd really like to go to a bookstore before we find our next hunt."

"Sure. Any of those stores have a bar nearby?"

"One of the used bookstores has one practically next door." He had another, more important reason for choosing the town. One that might change Dean's mood where the Impala was concerned. "You know what else we should do while we're there? We should visit the auto plant. You could see where the Impala was originally assembled."

"You don't have to keep doing that, Sam. I told you I'm fine."

"I know. I just thought since the dinosaur park was a bust we could try something else you'd enjoy. You're willing to go to a bookstore for me."

"We'll see."

Sam let it go. He opened Scott's journal and started reading. Though for a while he checked on Dean every few minutes to make sure he didn't have another panic attack. When he saw his brother physically relax and release his tense grip on the steering wheel, he felt it was safe to focus his attention on the journal entries.

The man's life was normal up to the end of his high school years. His journal entries were about his steady girlfriend, school, friends, and sports. He loved to play football and couldn't wait to play in college. He talked about his dreams of professional football. He had a typical relationship with his parents. The biggest surprise was how much he doted on his little brother.

Sam knew that Dean would do anything and everything for him, already had. But he'd been sure their relationship was different due to the circumstances in which they grew up. The closeness they had was part love, part survival instinct, or so he'd thought. He was beginning to see things in a new light. It was, as Dean always said, simply a big brother thing.

Scott mentioned proudly all of Wesley's accomplishments. Everything from learning to tie his shoes and his first day of school to spelling bees and science fairs. Apparently, little brothers were always the geeks who loved school. After the tornado that took their parents, the entries became more serious. It was obvious that he grew up suddenly. He lost his steady girlfriend when she couldn't accept coming second in his life. His friends all went away to college. He talked about giving up a full ride to UT in order to take care of his brother, but didn't resent Wesley for it one bit. He bought a small house with what was left of the insurance money and got a job in the small town.

For a couple of years, everything went fine. Scott got a promotion at work. Wesley won the regional science fair and learned to play football, just like his big brother. They both loved the Dallas Cowboys. As a twelfth birthday present, Scott scrimped and saved to get tickets to a game, seats on the 50 yard line. Then came the accident. The last few journal entries were heartbreaking in the guilt Scott felt. He truly believed he was to blame for his brother's death. He refused to listen when friends tried to help him through his grief. He felt he deserved the pain. When he began seeing and hearing Wesley wherever he went, he felt that was fair punishment, even if his brother's spirit was trying to convince him otherwise. Wesley's ghost wanted him to forgive himself and get on with his life. The last entry was Scott's goodbye. He apologized to Wesley for failing him, for taking the coward's way out, but he couldn't keep going on. Without his little brother, he didn't have a purpose, couldn't care about himself. He even apologized to his parents for screwing up.

The last few entries scared Sam to his very core. He feared that was exactly what his brother would believe, what he would do in a similar situation. Dean spent his entire life putting his little brother first, just like Scott. Sam had sudden need to confront his brother. He needed to know, with the dangerous line of "work" they were in, that his own death wouldn't also mean the death of his brother.

Dean knew Sam was trying to help. A few weeks ago, he would've jumped at the chance to visit the plant where his baby was assembled. Now he only wanted to find a new hunt, something else to kill to occupy all of his waking thoughts. He turned on the radio, determined to end the discussion, turned the car onto the highway and headed north. As Zeppelin changed to Bad Company, he noticed the tightness in his chest, the difficulty breathing, the paralyzing fear were under control. At first he thought the music was the reason, but realized it was his brother. Sam's presence was enough to calm his frazzled nerves. That realization allowed him to release his death grip on the steering wheel and try to relax for their short drive to Fort Worth.

Settling in, he was glad when Sam stopped checking how he was doing every two minutes and started reading the journal. He was as anxious as his little brother to have some answers where those particular ghosts were concerned. He still felt bad for Scott. He could imagine how awful it was to see his baby brother die right before his eyes, could understand his feelings of guilt at not preventing it. Dean could even understand Scott's death. If he lost Sam, there wasn't much keeping him from the same conclusion. Losing his brother was Dean's greatest fear.

As they entered the outskirts of Fort Worth, he felt Sam's eyes boring holes in him and looked over to confront him about it. Until he saw the look in his eyes. Dean was caught off guard by the sadness and fear.

"Sam?" When his brother looked away, looked down at the journal, he tried to get him to talk. "Dude, what's up?"

"Would you really do it? If something happened to me, would you just give up?"

"What the hell, Sam? Where did that come from?"

"He sounds just like you. It's why you avoided saying his name most of the time. You sympathized with him. Could imagine his pain."

"That doesn't mean anything. I just felt bad for the guy."

"Then answer the question."

Dean didn't know how to answer. If he told the truth, that he wasn't sure what he'd do, Sam would freak. But if he denied it, Sam would see through it. He always seemed to know when Dean was lying or keeping a secret. He thought avoidance would be the safest course.

"Does it have an explanation for why both of them hung around for so long?"

"I think so, but you still haven't answered my question."

He knew Sam wouldn't let something so important go, but he'd try. "Because it's a stupid question. Now what did you find?"

"Damn it, Dean. It's not a stupid question. You just don't want to answer it. You would, wouldn't you? You'd throw away your whole life."

Dean stared ahead, refused to look Sam in the eye. Maybe I could ignore him until he gave up. When a huff sounded from the other side of the car, he thought he won. He should've known better. He also should have seen the sucker punch that came with the next sentence.

"I don't want you to do that. Not because of me. You deserve better. Better than what you've been through and better than what you think you deserve. You have just as much right to your dreams as everyone else. There is more to your life than watching out for me. More than being what Dad wanted."

Dean stopped dreaming of a normal life years ago. It was too painful to want what he'd never have. So he clung tightly to what he did have. Sam. He still refused to answer the question. He knew Sam didn't understand. Couldn't understand. Then his little brother showed there were things he didn't get either.

"I think I know now why Wesley stayed. I think he stayed to save his brother, to get him to let go and move on with his life. Scott couldn't let go and trapped his brother's soul with his. His pain and guilt wouldn't let either of them move on."

Dean heard between the lines what Sam was trying to say to him. Save Sam's soul by not giving in. It was a low blow and probably the only one that would work. It also made perfect sense. Removing the part from the Caprice, separated the souls for the first time since Wesley's death. Wesley was free, but he didn't want to leave without his brother. He needed an outside influence to help set Scott free as well.

"I get what you're saying. I do. Can we talk about something else now?"

"You are an ass. You know that?"

"I'm an ass. Got it. Now where's that bookstore of yours?" Dean didn't know why Sam was suddenly so adamant about going to a bookstore. He was pretty sure his brother was up to something, but had no idea what. He was glad they would be out of the car soon. His leg was feeling a bit stiff and after that conversation he really needed a beer. Or maybe something stronger.