Sniff. For those of you keeping track through the lyrics, you know there's only one chapter left after this. I'm sad...I really enjoyed writing this (and the prequel). Therefore, if anyone has any plot suggestions or anything for another Supernatural story from me, let me know - it can fit with these two stories, or it can be something new and different!

Chapter 21- Lay your weary head to rest

Sam groaned and dug the heels of his palms against his burning eyes. He promised himself that, once he found a solution, he'd sleep for a freakin' week straight. He rolled off the pull-out couch, feeling like he hadn't slept at all. The fact that the couch wasn't quite long enough didn't help, of course... Staggering into the kitchen, he started the coffee brewing, feeling better just from the smell of it.

He turned to look at the kitchen table, which still had all of Bobby's books on it from the night before. Sam felt overwhelmed, unsure of where to start, knowing that if he picked the wrong place, it would just take that much longer to find the solution. And he didn't have time to waste on useless research.

Sighing, he poured himself the first of countless cups of coffee he planned to consume that day, and carried it over to the table. He sat down and reached for a book.

A couple hours passes before Sam finally heard the sounds of another human being stirring. Strangely enough, it wasn't heard from upstairs, but from the front door. Standing up to stick his head out of the kitchen, he saw Jo letting herself in, trying to be quiet at this still early hour.

"Hey." Sam said, causing Jo to jump into the air and clutch a hand to her chest.

"God, Sam!"

"Sorry."

"Well, it's good to see you guys are still here. I was worried you weren't."

Sam cocked his head in confusion. "Where else would we be this close to the end?"

Jo nodded, dropping her bag to the floor. She bent down to pull a notebook out. "Well, I pretty much questioned every hunter that came into the Roadhouse. I also looked at as many of their research books as possible. Don't worry, I didn't tell them who was under the contract. I didn't want them to know that you might be on your own soon – seeing as how some of them are still … unsure about you."

Sam half-grinned. "That's one way of putting it. Any luck?"

Jo sighed, and waved the notebook toward Sam. "I have a few ideas, but nothing that really sticks out to me as possible… I'm sorry."

Sam swallowed, nodding his head before turning to head back to his own research. Jo followed him in and sat down next to him. "So where'd Dean go so early? Or is he just not home yet?"

Sam's head shot up in alarm. "What do you mean?"

Now it was Jo's turn to look confused. "Well…that's why I thought you guys might have left – the Impala's gone."

Sam's face drained of color. He shot up out of his chair, looked out the window to confirm Jo's words, and then ran upstairs, still hoping that it wasn't true. He slammed open the door to Emilia's bedroom, causing her to sit up straight in bed with a yelp.

"Where's Dean?" Sam demanded.

Emilia glanced over at his side of the bed, even though it was obvious he wasn't there. "I don't know."

Sam turned to go back downstairs, almost knocking over Jo, who had followed him up there. She took his spot in the middle of the open doorway, a teasing smirk on her face. "So…Emilia…why on earth did Sam come up to your bedroom looking for Dean?"

Emilia blushed, giving Jo all the answer she needed. The blonde started crowing happily, jumping into the room to hug her friend. "Well, now I'm more motivated than ever to find a way out for Dean. We can't have him dying on you now, can we?"

The red of the blush quickly drained out of Emilia's face as she stared at her friend in concern. "What?"

The smile died on Jo's lips as she realized Emilia still didn't know. The look on the other woman's face, however, told her that she had already said too much to just brush it off now. "You…better come downstairs, so Sam and I can tell you what's going on."

Ten minutes later, Jo and Sam were looking at Emilia in concern, as she sat at the kitchen table, staring straight ahead, silent tears running down her cheeks. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"He didn't want you to have to worry about him, like everyone else," Bobby said from the kitchen doorway, as he came in to join his young houseguests. He cleared his throat and tossed a piece of paper onto the table in front of Sam. It was folded in half and had Sammy scratched on the front of it in Dean's illegible scrawl. "Found this shoved under my door this morning."

Sam reached out and slowly picked it up, afraid of what he'd find written there. The others watched him as he read the words, tears springing up in his eyes as he did so. After he read the words through once, he cleared his throat and said roughly, "Well, that confirms it. Dean left…Sammy, I'm sorry for leaving like this. I know you don't want to see me die, and I don't want you to have to. But like I said, I can't just sit here waiting for it. Please forgive me. Don't let this ruin your life…go on and live a great life – or I'll crawl my way out of hell and kick your ass. Tell Bobby thanks, and that he's one of the best fathers a guy could ask for. Tell Emilia I love her. Dean."

By the time he finished reading, the others were also fighting tears. Sam, though, was now past sadness and onto anger. He threw the letter back on the table, and fairly growled. "Why the hell did he leave? Why'd he take these last few days away from me?"

Sam dropped back into his chair, putting his head into his hands and letting out a deep sigh, the anger gone as quickly as it had come. "Just because I said I didn't want to see him die doesn't mean that I didn't want to be there to say goodbye."

Dean slammed the door of the Impala and started trudging to his destination. When he had left Bobby's in the middle of the night, he wasn't sure where he was going to go, but the car seemed to know and drove him here. It made sense too, to come back to where it all began.

Ringing the doorbell, Dean smiled when Jenny opened it. "Dean!"

"Hey, Jenny. How are you and the kids doing? Any more troubles?"

Jenny smiled and shook her head. "No, nothing. Everything's quiet now."

"That's good to hear. Listen, do you mind if I just go upstairs for awhile?"

Jenny shook her head, but was obviously concerned.

"Don't worry, nothing's wrong. I just … was feeling a little nostalgic."

Dean trudged slowly up the stairs, going not to Sammy's old room with all its bad memories, but to his old room with all its good ones. It was the children's playroom now, but he sat down cross-legged in the middle of it, closing his eyes and picturing it how it used to be. His bed in the corner, with its Superman sheets. His Legos spread out across the middle of the floor – always leading to a muffled curse whenever John stepped on one of them. Action figures piled in a corner. The sweet, subtle smell of his mother's perfume when she leaned over to kiss him good night; the gruff, loving voice of his father as they played with his train tracks together.

As much as it shamed him to do so, Dean let the tears start to fall. He hunched over his knees, burying his face in his arms. He cried for the kid he had been, for the man he could have become, for the father he'd never get to be.

Bobby shared a look with the two girls when they heard the sound of an engine drive into the lot and shut off. Before any of them could stand up to check it out, Sam came bursting into the room, a hopeful look on his face.

"C'mon, Sam. It's not an Impala – it's a Toyota. You know better than that."

Sam's shoulders hunched, and he nodded sheepishly. He may not know as much about cars as Bobby and Dean, but he knew it wasn't the Impala, deep down at least. He wasn't sure if he'd ever hear that familiar, home-like growl again.

Bobby made it to his front door just as someone knocked on it. Opening it, he was surprised to see Father Aaron, looking anxious but excited.

"Aaron?" "Father Aaron?" Bobby and Emilia asked simultaneously.

Father Aaron held up his Bible, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I've got it."

A strangled gasp caused the others to look at Sam. He had a hopeful, yet disbelieving expression on his face. He was afraid to accept the idea that a solution was found at this late hour, afraid to get his hopes up.

"Is Dean here?" Father Aaron asked, and the others shared a look.

"We don't know where Dean is," Bobby answered for them.

Dean had searched hard in the area surrounding Lawrence, but ironically there seemed to be no supernatural events going on. He had nothing to fight, and he was hours away from his last 24. He let out a wry chuckle, wondering how it could get any less fair.

Night had fallen a while ago, but Dean didn't plan to sleep anywhere that night. Instead, he used the moonlight to guide him through the quiet, still graveyard, making his way to their mother's tombstone. He sat down in front of it, staring at it, feeling the chill from the ground travel up into his bones. He reached out to trace her name in the stone, wishing desperately that he could see her one last time before the end.

He stayed there until dawn broke. It was almost peaceful, sitting among the dead. He felt a kind of camaraderie with them.

Dean watched the sun rise on his last day.

The front door opened as he was still walking up to the steps. The woman's voice squeaked out at him, and Dean couldn't help but grin despite his heavy thoughts. "Why, Dean Winchester. I knew you were coming a mile away. You poor, poor boy"

Missouri Moseley stepped aside as she ushered Dean into her house. He sat down on her couch, smirking as she pointed a finger at him in warning to behave himself on her furniture. She took a seat across from him and looked at him with a sad, apologetic expression on her face. "I'm sorry, Dean. I know you came here hoping for some kind of answer, but I'm afraid I don't know how to help you."

Dean nodded in resignation. "I figured…had to take the chance, though, right?"

Missouri pressed her lips together firmly, reaching out to squeeze Dean's hand.

"I…I don't suppose you could tell me what will happen to Sam after I'm gone, can you?"

"You know it doesn't work like that, Dean. And I wouldn't tell you, even if I could see it. You need to be worrying about you right now, not your brother."

Dean barked in laughter. "It's too late for that, Missouri."

The hunter turned down the psychic's offer of lunch, choosing instead to go back to the hotel and search the local newspapers for a last ditch hunting opportunity. The older woman walked Dean to her door. He was half-way to the Impala when she called out to him.

"Trust in Sam, Dean. He's not done with you yet."

Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion!