I'll be honest. I'm proud of my little story and it absolutely thrills me to read your excitement as well. Thank you!

This story was begun well before season three began and I don't do much with spoilers. What I'm trying to say is this does not include details we've learned recently. Sorry.

And yep, these boys NEVER learn! (grinning wickedly)

We've got seriously wicked weather heading our way, so I'm posting this on the off chance power goes down.

(I HATE ice!)

... Chapter Twenty-one...

Dean slumped back against the wall, but managed to avoid the floor by clutching his knees. His chest heaved as he attempted to regain control of his thundering heart and gasping lungs.

When he was finally able to lift his head, he captured Sam's gaze. After a moment of mutual gratitude his eyes dropped to Evanston's cooling body. "Damn, Sammy." He wheezed. "All those VanDamme movies paid off." A grin spread across his face and brought him renewed strength. He straightened up. "No demon skills needed for that."

He couldn't force the façade any longer and slid to the ground, clutching his chest.

... Supernatural...

Hours later, Dean started to roll over in his sleep but was rudely awakened by the sharp pain radiating across his chest. He gasped and felt the bed at his side sink as he opened his eyes. He groaned as Sam came into focus.

"That will teach you to move." Sam chided gently, offering pills and a bottle of water.

Dean pulled himself slowly higher up onto the pillow and accepted Sam's offering. "How long have I been out?"

Sam smiled. "Only a few hours… But it was nice. I could patch you up without listening to you whine."

"Bitch!" Dean sniped.

"Jerk!" Sam countered. He sobered. "Need anything else?"

Dean shook his head. "Na… I'm fine."

Sam smiled sheepishly. "Well, you will be. I only needed to take a few stitches in some of the deeper areas." He offered the water bottle. "But you should drink more water for your throat."

Dean rolled his eyes and grumbled. "Freakin' mother hen."

"Hey! You saved my life… again. You owe me some mother-henning." Sam straightened the covers around Dean until his hands were slapped away. He took the hint and switched over to the other bed. "Seriously, you need anything else? You want to try food?"

Dean shook his head. "What happened back there?" There was that note of hurt and confusion again that went straight to Sam's guilty heart. "Those guards? They were straight out of 'The Three Stooges." They couldn't do anything right. All they did was get in my way."

Sam swallowed and nervously looked away. It was enough for Dean to piece things together. "You did it. You? What the hell did you do to them?"

Sam tried to make it a joke. He grinned as if he was proud of his work. "I suggested they couldn't hurt you."

Dean frowned. "You couldn't have told them to leave me alone?"

Sam's attempt at humor disappeared. "Dean… I couldn't risk you being there."

"When you confronted him? And yet I seem to recall saving your ass? How do you explain that, wise one?" Dean's voice was tinged with both anger and pride.

Sam sighed. "Thank you."

"Thank you? That's all I get?" Dean's anger pushed him forward, but he winced as the pain forced him back down.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You used to complain that we never get thanked."

Dean scowled and looked away. "This isn't funny, Sam. I don't have enough time left for this shit."

Sam almost opened his mouth. He almost told Dean not to worry. He almost admitted his plan, but he didn't. He knew Dean would never believe him or want him to take the risk.

That night, Dean had seen Sam caved on the floor, curled up in a ball by a human with psychic ability. How would Dean ever believe that after that incident, Sam had found the inner strength he needed to destroy the crossroad's demon?

"How about that trip to Disneyland?"

... Supernatural...

Dean watched as Sam slept on the bed across from him. Dean had precious little time left. He'd wanted to simply enjoy his final days, but the situation with Sam nagged at him.

They'd come to Bobby's, not Disneyland. Dean wanted to be near the closest thing he had to a home when the time came for him to leave. He'd already told Sam he was going alone and would leave at a time Sam least expected. He wasn't going to give Sam any opportunity.

He also wasn't going to give the damn Black Dogs a reason to hunt him down. He walked into the deal like a man and he'd close the deal in the same way. No demon hound was going to drag him kicking and screaming into hell. He'd meet the demon on her ground and present himself as a warrior with honor.

"How certain are you that what you brought back, is 100 pure Sam?"

Still the demon's words haunted him. Since Evanston's death, there was no indication anyone else was gunning for Sam's job. Sure, there were demons to fight, but word on the street, from a demon Bobby vanquished two days earlier, was that Sam was considered to be out of the running for the job. Now, he was no more than a normal hunter threat. None of them seemed worried about Sam's abilities. They even seemed to know what had happened at the farmhouse.

I shouldn't worry, right?

That's what he kept trying to tell himself. Sam's abilities had been almost useless in the long run against Evanston. They seemed to help him enough to keep him relatively safe, but not enough to make him a target.

I shouldn't worry, right?

Dean had watched Sam's face when he twisted Evanston's neck like a pretzel. There was no hesitation. No remorse. There was no Sammy.

What nagged at Dean was Sam's lack of guilt.

Maybe the demon had been right?

Sam had taught Dean all about gray. Although Dean spent most of his life seeing their job as black and white, Sam had forced Dean time and time again to note the gray that surrounded them. It was the gray that fueled the guilt Sam often felt when a human death occurred.

Sam had spared vampires and agonized over the loss of a human possessed by a demon. Dean thought of Max. Recently, Sam had killed a human in a relatively cold-blooded way. He'd never seen such a deliberate, violent act from his baby brother, the boy who always saw gray.

So why was this death different for Sam?

"Damit Dean… Stop watching me. What is it you expect me to do?" Sam grumbled out his words as he rolled onto his side and switched on the light to face a surprised Dean.

"What the hell are you talking about? A man wakes up and happens to look over at his brother and now all of a sudden it's a crime?" Dean plotted quickly to cover his tracks.

Sam glared at Dean, unwilling to accept the line of bull he'd been handed.

Dean swallowed, slumped back and turned away from Sam.

Sam wasn't going to let it rest. "Ask the question, Dean."

"Go to sleep, Sam."

Sam sat up and switched on the light. "Dean, don't do this. Not now. What's going on in your head?"

Dean sighed, still facing away from Sam. He closed his eyes and sought the right words, finally rolling over to face his brother. "You snapped that bastard's neck, Sammy. You just walked up and snapped it like a twig. You didn't even use your super powers."

Sam nodded. "So you think I've really gone dark-side and this…" He gestured around the room, indicating their time together. "Is a sham for your benefit? So you can die without worrying about me? Without wondering if you should have killed me?"

Dean nodded. "Basically." He shook away the thought that Sam had read his mind.

Sam laughed and fell back on the bed. "All those years you and dad wanted me to be tough. I finally am and you think I'm evil."

Dean scowled. "That's not it, Sam."

Sam nodded and turned on his side to face Dean. "I was using my powers. I shielded my movements from him. I was too tired to do anything else. When I got to him, I realized I didn't really know how to use my powers to kill him." He paused. "If you'll recall, I haven't actually killed a demon with my mighty-mind."

Dean's face acknowledged the logic behind Sam's explanation.

"Sam…"

Sam cut him off with a held up hand. "Dean, you don't have to worry about me. I'm fine. I know what I'm doing." He chuckled. "It's not like you see me using my powers all the time, right? I've got things under control." He shook his head. "You know what I've been thinking about?"

Dean waited for Sam to continue, but when he didn't, he growled. "Oh for crying out loud, I have to ask?"

Sam chuckled. "Well, this is getting awfully chick-flickish. I was waiting for you to tell me to shut up. That you didn't care what I'm thinking about."

"I always care, Sammy." Dean shot his brother half a smile. "I just don't always want to hear it."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I was thinking about back in Chicago. You wanted us to be a family and I told you I wasn't going to live this life forever."

"Yeah… I was there."

"I told you when the time came; you were going to have to let me go my own way." Sam raised an eyebrow, daring Dean to get to the same page he was on. "Now look at us. You're telling me I have to let you go."

"Soon." Dean whispered.

"Too soon." Sam replied. He let out a long sigh. "Then dad died and I couldn't think of anything but hunting."

"And now?" Dean asked, genuinely interested in where Sam's head was.

"If I can't save you, I just want it to end."

Dean's eyes lit up with worry. "Sammy! You're not talking… I mean, I did this so you'd live…"

Sam shook his head. "No… I'm not going to kill myself. I just want out. I want the demons to leave me alone and hell, I'm ready to leave them alone."

"That hunting urge has died, huh?"

"I wouldn't mind a quiet life." Sam pondered the idea in his mind.

"You'd be bored." Dean teased.

"I'll risk it." Sam replied.

They lapsed into silence. Dean was still troubled by something Sam said though. "Sam. What you said earlier… You're not still planning on trying something, are you? I mean, you have to let me go. I made this deal. I'm going to honor it. There's only one thing you can do for me now."

"What's that?"

"Live." Dean smiled. "I don't give a rat's ass if you hunt or go back to school. I just want you to carve out a corner of happiness and live for the rest of us… Be safe."

Sam said nothing. Dean knew it meant he was planning something. "Seriously, Sammy. Nothing. You're not going to do anything. Right? Promise me."

Sam's demeanor grew cold. "I can't do that, Dean. I won't."

Dean returned the silence. He reached over, switched out the light and rolled away from Sam. He knew words were useless. Sam would try something stupid and it would make all he'd sacrificed for nothing. It angered him. He wanted Sam to see reason and just accept the situation. If he was honest however, he knew he would do the same in Sam's shoes.

As Dean lay in the darkness, he formed his own plan. He wasn't about to let Sam take this chance, powers or no powers.

The following night, Dean told Sam he wanted a special dinner out, his last supper so to speak. He even made reservations at the finest restaurant in town for the three of them and required Bobby to put on a shirt and tie.

During the meal, he set his plan in motion. Subtly, when Sam was distracted by menus or ordering or his meal, Dean slipped small doses of a sleeping pill into Sam's food and drink. Bobby had seen him, but said nothing.

Later, as Sam struggled to stay awake, Dean delivered the other men beers. Sammy's was of course dosed with a final tablet. He barely made it to bed without help.

Dean spent an hour watching his sleeping brother and finally rose from the opposite bed and placed a short note on the nightstand.

He met Bobby at the bottom of the stairs. "He's going to be furious in the morning."

Dean grinned. "More like late afternoon with the dose I gave him." Then he sobered. "It will be over by then."

Bobby's lower lip trembled ever so slightly. "You Winchesters are too damn stubborn."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I love you too, Bobby." He choked back the emotion and continued. "Take care of him… Whatever he wants… I mean, except that going evil, part."

Bobby nodded. There was silence between them. "I gassed up the van. Are you sure you wouldn't rather take the Impala?"

Dean shook his head. "No, I can't do that to her. She's taken good care of me. I can't ask her to do this." He accepted the keys Bobby offered. "Better to go out feeling like a freakin' soccer mom." He quickly added. "This isn't a mini-van, is it?" He prayed it wasn't. His soccer mom comment had been a lie.

"No, a bug."

Dean's eyes widened in disgust. "A bug? As in Beetle? As in VW?" He groaned. "Kill me now."

Neither man was the type to draw out a good-bye, much less a permanent one. Dean held out his hand. Bobby grabbed at his forearm and then pulled him in for a brief hug. They parted and Dean slipped out into the night.

Bobby turned away from the door and heard a creak from the hallway. He looked to the noise and met a wide-awake Sam.