Sorry this chapter came later than usual, I was without internet for a couple days, but I hope you enjoy it now and I apologize for the wait :) This is the final chapter of the story, so let me know if you think it ended well or not! Thank you so much to everyone who has read, faved and reviewed this story. It always makes me very happy to read all your lovely reviews!

Chapter Ten

As Sam stabbed him, Dean rose to his feet and advanced toward the knife instead of away from it. The blade sliced him across the ribs before it thudded into the wall behind him and then Dean had Sam in his arms, holding him as tight as he could, the arm Sam had used to stab him clamped tightly under his and Sam's head forced down against his shoulder like he had done when they were kids. He gripped the back of Sam's jacket tightly and fought for him, keeping him a prisoner from Cassandra's spell.

"It's okay, Sammy," he said. "Everything's gonna be all right now. I got you. I got you, Sammy."

"Kill him, Sam!" Cassandra screamed, starting forward toward the two brothers. "Do it now!"

Sam jerked in Dean's grasp, stiffening and trying to fight him off to get his knife out of the wall but Dean held firm.

"Get off of me!" Sam shouted. "I hate you!"

"Yeah right," Dean growled. "I know you're lying, Sammy. Just saying what she wants you to. Fight her, buddy, you can do it."

Cassandra growled and leapt forward to grab the back of Sam's jacket, making to pull him away from Dean.

"You will do what I tell you to!" she growled. "You killed my brother and I will make you do the same!"

Sam strained against Dean, but the older Winchester refused to let go, even when Sam tried to head-butt him. Dean kicked out at Cassandra and she fell back with a gasp, sprawling on the floor, and Dean squeezed Sam hard, putting pressure on his broken ribs to see if he could jar the spell again.

Sam stopped struggling for a second, gasping in pain, and Dean thought he had him, when Sam's hands came up and latched around Dean's throat, slamming his head back against the wall.

Not again! Dean thought as he again fought to get Sam's hands from his throat, hearing Cassandra's pleased laughter from behind his brother. Do not make me kick you in the balls, Sam, because I will! Dean warned silently. Then felt Sam's grip slacken and go for the knife still stuck in the wall. He grabbed it and yanked it free, finally letting go of Dean's throat, throwing him to the floor where Dean landed with a gasping heave of breath, his head smacking against the ground.

"Do it now, Sam, make him feel what he did to you. I know you want that," Cassandra coaxed glibly, putting her hand over Sam's that held the knife and reaching up to stroke the hair from his face.

"Get off 'im," Dean gasped out, struggling to get to his feet again. "It's okay, Sammy, nothing's gonna happen. I won't let it."

Cassandra laughed mockingly. "The only way you can stop this, Dean, is to kill me, or kill your precious little Sammy. And I don't think you're capable of either right now." She stroked Sam's cheek one more time. "Go get him, handsome."

Sam stepped toward Dean and grabbed the front of his jacket, hauling him to his feet and slamming him against the wall again. Dean grunted as his head once again connected. "Dude, you've already given me a concussion."

Sam smiled, a smile that chilled Dean to the bone, even though he knew there was nothing in it that was his little brother. The knife gleamed dully in the dark kitchen and Sam pressed it against Dean's cheek, pushing until blood seeped down his chin. Dean cringed but didn't say anything. He just kept his eyes on his little brother. He wouldn't let this happen. He couldn't do that to Sammy.

Sam took the knife away and rested it on Dean's collarbone before slicing viciously over his chest. Dean couldn't help the startled yelp he let out, even though he had vowed not to make a sound. It had surprised him.

"It's okay, Sammy, just look at me. We'll get through this," he said when he got his breath back then found Sam's hand smothering his mouth. Revulsion and guilt washed through Dean. This is what he had done to Sam. How could he have been so cruel to his little brother?

"Shh," Sam hissed at him. "Take your punishment like a man."

The knife went lower, the tip pressing against Dean's stomach now. He could feel blood welling from the pressure, soaking into his shirt.

"Make him hurt, Sam," Cassandra hissed.

Nothing happened. Dean suddenly reached out and grabbed Sam's wrist, pulling the knife away from him. Sam fought, going to punch Dean with his other hand, but Dean caught that as well and held onto Sam's forearms with all the strength he had left while Cassandra fought him and he fought for Sam who couldn't do it for himself.

"Sammy, don't let her take you. You've got to fight it."

He could see the fight going on behind Sam's eyes, his face twisted in the physical effort, but his eyes twisted emotionally.

"Stop!" Cassandra said, suddenly lunging for the gun Dean had dropped previously. "I'll kill you both and be done with it!" She cocked it and aimed.

"No!" Dean ground out, seeing that Sam was right in her line of fire and he would be damned if he was going to watch his little brother be shot before him. He mustered up the strength to throw Sam as far away from him as possible and hope for the best.

But just then the door crashed open and Bobby came in with a shotgun. Without a second's hesitation, he shot Cassandra in the chest and she fell with a gasp onto the floor, bleeding out, the pistol clattering to the floor.

Sam was instantly released from the spell and he gasped and sagged into Dean's arms, dropping the knife. The instant dead weight forced Dean to sink to the ground, but he didn't let Sam go.

Sam didn't seem to mind, for he reached up and gripped Dean's coat, forcing his head up under Dean's chin and taking several shuddering breaths to regain control of himself. Dean didn't comment on the chick flick moment that was ensuing, he just rested his chin on top of his little brother's head and put a hand firmly on the back of his neck.

"See, what did I tell ya? It's all over now, Sammy, everything's fine."

"Dean," Sam said in a choked voice. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, Sam," Dean told him with a humorless chuckle. "I think we're even now, don't you?"

Sam gave a wet laugh and reached up to scrub some tears off his cheeks. Dean pulled him closer, but he groaned.

"Dude, my ribs," he wheezed.

"Oh, right," Dean loosened his grip a bit, but not all the way. Not until Sam stopped shuddering and the younger Winchester was just going to have to deal with that.

Bobby stood from where he had been crouching next to Cassandra's body, checking for a nonexistent pulse, and went over to the boys, putting a hand on each of their shoulders.

"You boys both all right?" he asked, a worried tone in his voice that he was trying to hide.

"A few more bruises and scrapes, but I think we'll be fine," Dean said sincerely, though knew there was more than bruises on his part. Some of his new cuts were going to need stitching, he figured. But he would worry about that later. He ran a hand through Sam's hair and patted his back gently.

"You ready to get up, sasquatch?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam said and Bobby helped him to his feet, then offered Dean a hand as well. Dean pulled himself upright and had to lean against Bobby for a minute before he could stand on his own.

"You two go sit down for a minute while I take care of this," Bobby said, motioning to Cassandra. "Then we'll have something to eat after I get you patched up again, and after that I'm sending you off to bed—no arguments either! You two look like you got beat six ways to Sunday."

Dean refrained from smiling and instead, took Sam's arm and drew him toward the couch where they sat to wait for Bobby. They still didn't speak, but now wasn't the time. Dean knew that there would still be a little working out to do, but for the most part, they had at least forgiven the sins of the other.

Once Bobby had gotten rid of the body—and Dean didn't ask how he had accomplished that—he came back and helped clean up the boys' new injuries with a longsuffering sigh before they ate dinner, and by then Dean was actually exhausted and wasn't angry at all about Bobby sending them to bed like they were three.

He was halfway up the stairs behind Sam, both of them moving slower than 70-year-olds, when a thought struck him and he hesitated before going into the room. "Hey, you okay with me sleeping in here?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Sam said, then a second later gave a decisive nod as if confirming his answer. "I am."

Dean smiled and sat down on the second bed. "Good, because Bobby's couch sucks. It's gonna take weeks to work it out of my back." He sat down and pulled off his boots then stripped to his boxers and t-shirt to sleep in. He climbed into the small bed and pulled the long familiar quilt over top of himself, watching as Sam crawled into his own bed.

"Hit the light?" Sam asked.

Dean reached over and turned off the lamp, and then smiled as he watched Sam curl up on the bed facing him.

It was a start.

Dean hated the healing process. He got so tired of being laid up. Most of the time, he would work through it, but with his hand still splinted it proved difficult to do much of anything, and Sam too was still recovering, and still a bit gun shy as well so Dean decided it would be best if they stayed at Bobby's for a little while longer. Get some actual rest, and feed Sam up a bit before they started looking for their dad again.

He was out one afternoon tinkering one-handed on the Impala, letting his mind go blank for a little while. He and Sam both still had their own nightmares, and he didn't think that would change for a while yet, but at least during their waking hours, they saw what was real and what wasn't and were able to get through the day. But Dean still found himself running his fingers over the bite mark on his hand before he would have to stop himself, as he brought back memories of holding the knife and torturing Sam.

He was bent under the hood, trying to tighten a bolt with his left hand and making a clumsy attempt of it, when he heard a footstep behind him.

"Hey." He turned around to see Sam standing behind him with a small smile, holding two beers. "Thought you might like a drink?"

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean straightened up and turned around to sit on the front of the car, taking the proffered bottle from Sam. A few seconds later, his brother sat next to him. They drank in silence, but Dean felt something going unsaid.

Finally, Sam turned to him and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You know, Dean, I'm feeling pretty good. I think I'm about ready to go look for Dad again."

"You sure?" Dean asked, casting a sideways glance at his brother, trying to judge his mood. He fidgeted a bit, not quite looking at Dean, but he nodded.

"Yeah. I think…" he took a deep breath and turned to face Dean fully. "Look, Dean. What happened—I think it's going to take us both a while to really get over it, but I also think that it's not going to help sitting around and waiting for it to go away and for the nightmares to leave us alone." Dean saw a quick, haunted look pass over Sam's features as he even mentioned it, but he shook himself instantly. "I mean, this life, we're just going to have to get used to stuff like this happening, because I doubt it's the first time something like this will be thrown at us."

Dean nodded and took another drink before he nudged Sam's knee with his own. "You okay, little brother?" he asked. "Like, I mean, with everything. Are you all right?"

Sam didn't say anything for a long moment, just staring down at his feet and then finally turned to Dean with a small smile and a nod. "Yeah. Yeah, Dean, I think I really am okay." He then thought a minute before he added, "Are you?"

Dean shrugged and drank the rest of his beer. "Aw, ya know, Sam. Just another day at the office." He winked and Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

"Yeah, we're really messed up, aren't we?"

"What's the attraction of being normal? You know chicks dig the mysterious ones," Dean returned and stood up, reaching down to help Sam up as well. He slung an arm around his shoulders and drew him toward the house.

"Let's tell Bobby the good news, that we'll be giving him his house back," Dean said, slapping Sam on the back. "Race you!"

"Dammit, Dean!" Sam shouted, growling as his still-healing ribs ached from running. He bent over when they got to the porch, and tried to get his breath back. He swiped a hand at Dean as he laughed at him. "You're such a jerk!"

"And you're a whiny bitch so it makes us even," Dean retorted, ruffling Sam's hair fondly.

"Would you two idjits get in here already?" Bobby called through the door. "I think I got a case for you if you want to take it."

Dean looked over at Sam questioningly. "Well? What do you say?"
Sam shrugged, giving him a smirk. "Just another day at the office?"

Dean grinned and they finally joined Bobby inside, more than ready to get back on the road.

The End

Next weekend, I'm hoping to start posting my new one shot series about Cas figuring out or dealing with human things with the boys' help. If you have any suggestions or ideas for that, let me know! I've got a few ideas, but I thought it would be fun to see what everyone else wanted to hear about, so I should have that started next friday or saturday. Thanks again for reading! I hope the rest of your weekend is nice!