"It's OK, Sam," John said, as he watched Sam's eyes widen and scoot away from him. "It's me. The shifter is dead."
"Then, why the knife?" Sam asked, suspiciously.
"To cut the ropes from around your wrists," John answered. "Turn around so we can hurry up and find Dean."
"Where is Dean?" Sam asked, still unsure. The shifter would try to use Dean against him. He'd been using all of them against each other from the beginning.
"I don't know. I sent him for help."
Sam still wasn't sure, but he couldn't sit here arguing with his father or the shifter if Dean needed help. He turned his back to his father and squeezed his eyes shut, while he waited for his hands to be freed, or for the knife to plunge into his back.
"Let's go," John said when he had cut the ropes. He turned and headed right. Hopefully Dean would have gone that way.
Sam followed behind him. "DEAN!"
"Sam!"
John and Sam looked at each other and ran towards the voice. "Sorry, Dad. I didn't get very far." Dean had been crawling to try to find somewhere to call for help, but that took time.
Just then, they heard sirens. "That's OK, son. Looks like someone else called for help."
Sam and John helped Dean up and supported him on either side as they headed towards the sirens.
"Dad," Sam said.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry we had that fight. But, I had to leave, and you know I have to go back now, right?"
"Yeah, Sam, I know. I'm sorry, too."
Dean didn't say anything. He was disappointed. He had been harboring a secret wish that Sam would ditch Stanford and his girlfriend like he had ditched them. But, deep down, he had known he wouldn't. Sam hated this life. But, at least now, he realized that it was the life he hated and not his family.
The End
I'm sorry. I know this is the suckiest ending of all time. Stuff came up, though, and it's been so long, I just couldn't really get back into the story. I'm really, really, really sorry.