A/N: As promised, here's another chapter Coming to the end now, hope you all enjoyed my first attempt at a chapter fic. Since I'm starting school again in about a week, this will probably be the only one for about four months or so (between lesson planning and my other PT job, will have little, to no time, to plan out one of these) but hope to have at least a few one shots posted. Thanks again for your patience and reviews, and have a wonderful New Year! Hopefully our boys will stop fighting, miss that brotherly love!

Epilogue

The service had been a simple one, the typical hunter's funeral: salt and burn the body. The brothers watched in silence as the flames licked the wood of the funeral pyre, sparks dancing gracefully into the night. As Sam watched the flames licking at his father's body, he felt a wave of emotions he had never felt before. He felt nauseous, weak, as if someone had drained him of life instead of his dad. He stole a glance at Dean, who was staring, unseeing, at the pyre, eyes raw and dry from the tears he was no doubt trying not to shed. Sam opened his mouth, about to say something, and then decided against it. Nothing he could say could bring any comfort to him, so it was best to be quiet. Nodding to himself, he once again looked at the fire which consumed his father, not wanting to watch but not being able to look away. It was as if he had to watch. It was the last thing he could do to pay respect to the man who had done all he could to protect his boys.

Following the burning, the brothers erected a simple, unmarked cross by the river bank. Back in Lawrence, a formal stone would be erected by the family plot, next to their mother. But for now, this unmarked grave was the only marker proving that John Winchester had existed, had lived, had died for his sons. For Dean knew the truth about his father's death. As he had stared blankly at the burning pyre, his mind had replayed what his father had whispered into his ear minutes before his death: Take care of Sammy, he had whispered, and do your best to save him. Because if you can't, you may have to kill him.

Dean had shuddered at the thought. He remembered how his father had told him of his deal, how he was doing it to protect them, to protect him. He had been on the edge of death: had been so close, he had even seen that white light that people always seem to rattle on about. He had thought it had been bullshit, and was surprised to find the cliché to be accurate. He snuck a glance at his brother, who was quietly paying his respect to John Winchester, and felt a pang of guilt rush through his body. He knew that his death would have been rough on Sam, would break him. Hell, if anything were to happen to his brother, he just might follow in his father's footsteps. But he knew he was supposed to have died that night. That demon with the yellow eyes had practically said so himself. Yeah, Sammy would have been in rough shape, but he would eventually move on. For Dean to be alive, when he was supposed to be gone, it just wasn't right.

But then, what if Sammy were to lose it without his big brother to keep an eye on him? He remembered the demon's final words before stabbing him. He had said that with Dean out of the picture, it would have been easier for Yellow Eyes to convince his brother to join his demonic army. With big brother in the picture, there would be no way Sammy would ever be able to accept his fate. But with you out of it you just never know…

"Fuck," Dean mumbled and Sam turned to his brother, slightly confused by his sudden outburst. When Dean showed no signs of explaining what was wrong, he gave one of his notorious half shrugs and went back to his vigil at his father's grave. Dean continued to watch for a few minutes, and slowly the brothers turned and headed back to the Impala. Dean put her in gear and slowly the two drove off, leaving behind their father.

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Yellow Eyes watched as the coal black Impala sped back to the border, leaving Miramichi and New Brunswick behind. His plan had failed initially; he hadn't banked on John Winchester making a deal to bring his precious Dean back from the dead. To make matters worse, both brothers would now be on to him; it would be much harder to get rid of Dean now that he was familiar with his plans. But, there was always a plus side. With dear old daddy out of the picture, there would be no one to make any other deals to bring brother dearest back. Well, there was Sammy; there would always be that annoying, but vital, pest. But, if everything went according to plan, the youngest of John Winchester's boys would not be making any pilgrimages to the crossroads any time soon. He, Azaezel, would make sure of that.

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The November sun shone brightly as the Impala sped along the interstate in New York. By now, Dean had finally put on some tunes, having driven in silence the first day since their father's death. AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" rocked the car's radio, and Dean managed a smile as the familiar riff echoed through the Impala's interior. Sam was already at the laptop, looking up the next case. It had been two days since the brothers had returned to the States, and Sam was eager to get back to the hunt. Anything to keep his mind off his father's death. He still had no proof that is father had made a deal with the devil, but he had a sinking feeling in his chest that this was the case. On a few occasions he had considered asking Dean, just getting it over with, but thought better of it. He knew Dean, and he knew his brother's ways of grieving: anger, depression, and covering up his true feelings with a false sense of bravado. Like right now, Sam thought as Dean tapped his hands on his baby's steering wheel, belting out the chorus in his off key voice. He sighed, and went back to his research.

"Says here that there's possible poltergeist activity in a farmhouse in Indiana. Kinda easy for us, but a good start to get us back in the game. Sound good?"

Dean pulled down his shades and smiled at his brother. "Damn straight." He cranked the volume and gunned the Impala's engine.

It was time to get this show on the road.

The End