Hello to all my faithful readers! The most horrendous updater has returned! And to celebrate this return, I will be posting the REST of this story (which is just this REALLY long chapter and the epilogue). I know I said I would upload this like forever ago, and I don't really have an excuse, except that my mom read this story and basically told me it was crap. Sooooo my confidence has taken a hit. Because of that as well as the knowledge that I have done to you readers what I hate writers doing to me (leaving me hanging FOREVER), I will no longer be writing fan fiction. This is my last anything. Of course I have, like, A MILLION plots zooming through my heads. If I do ever get the urge or confidence to write again, I will only post if everything is written.

So thanks for reading my humble little story, over the last five years. IF you're just finding me now, :::waves::: Hello! Hope you enjoyed it! See ya around!

Chapter 20

"Willow!"

Dean watched in slight confusion as Cordelia got up to greet the new arrival. As the brunette reached the redhead, the two young women gave each other big smiles but didn't hug as Dean expected them to. In fact, there seemed to be a slight air of awkwardness between the two. The awkwardness faded, however, as the two people began to catch up, trading gossip and news about people that, he assumed, they both new.

"Hey Cordy. How ya been?"

"Oh, you know, saving the world, looking fabulous. Just the usual."

"Same ole Cordelia."

"Yea, not really, but kinda. What about you? How are things in Sunnydale?"

Here the redhead, Willow he presumed, got a little tense—her smile turned just a little bit fake—"Oh, everything's fine. Everyone's fine."

Dean didn't know this chick from the last redhead he met at a bar, but even he could tell that she was in major denial. Whatever was going on wherever she was from, everything was not fine. Before he could be subjected to anymore girl talk, the young hunter decided to interrupt. "Hey. Hi. Glad you two have caught up. Who ARE you?" he butted in, directing his last question to the newcomer.

"This is Willow," Fred piped in, gesturing at the girl beside her as if showing off a prize on a game show.

"Well, now that THAT is cleared up," Dean snarked at the young Texan.

"You must be Dean," Willow smiled at him. "Hi. I'm Willow, like Fred here said. I'm here to fix your brother."

"Wait. What? Fix my brother? You're this badass person that we're waiting for?" Dean sputtered, assessing the young woman before him. She barely looked twenty, and she was the person he was supposed to trust his brother's soul to?

She must have noticed the doubt on his face, and she rushed to correct him. "Hey buddy. I may be small—although my friend Buffy is even shorter than me— and young, but I am a badass Wicca, so don't make me use my magic on you."

At her threat, as he saw it, the hunter in him came to the forefront and his doubt turned to suspicion. He narrowed his eyes at her, as though gauging the danger that she could present to himself and his brother. "A witch?" Dean hissed. "You want me to trust a witch with my brother's life, his soul?"

Willow looked taken aback at the venom in his voice, trading slightly nervous looks with Cordelia, who had not foreseen the difficulty that a hunter would have with using magic, even to save his brother's life.

Before either woman could make any kind of reply to his accusation, a gruff voice sounded behind them. "Don't be such an idjit, boy."

Dean's head popped up slightly to meet Bobby's gaze as the older hunter excused himself through the girls to stand next to his younger counterpart. "Bobby?" his voice had a hint of confusion and a barely noticeable challenge.

"How did you think we were going to get your brother back? Catch his soul with a net and then shove it down his throat?"

"No. I mean, I knew we had a ritual, but I didn't realize we needed a witch to do it."

"Hey mister, I take offence at the way you keep saying witch. I don't know who you've talked to, but I am a Wiccan witch, and we are good, not evil." Willow re-inserted herself in the conversation, her cheeks turning a little red, and a small frown replacing the smile on her face.

"I've talked to witches, ones that have tried to kill me. THAT'S where I'm getting my information," Dean retorted, heatedly.

"Cool it kids. Just like there are shades of gray when it comes to psychics and stuff, the same goes for witches," Bobby explained, shooting a sharp look at Sam then back to Dean to get his point across. After that, it was as if someone had stuck a pin into a Dean balloon, as he deflated before everyone's eyes. He turned to look at Sam's still form on the bed before turning back to Willow.

"You really think you can help him?" This time when he spoke all hints of malice and suspicion had vanished.

Seeing that the man was no longer treating him as a threat, Willow's smile was back in full force. "You betcha. Lead to me the ritual, and you'll have your brother back before you can say Scooby-dooby-doo."

At Dean's odd look, she shrugged her shoulders, "I guess it's more of an inside joke."

"Ok, well let's do this," Dean said, wanting nothing more than to get things going. The sooner they do this ritual thing, the sooner he could have his little brother back, and things would get back to normal. He turned to Willow, figuring she would know the best way to go about things. "So should I leave Sam here or…?" he trailed off, seeing the quick thoughtful look flash on her face.

"Well, the last time I did the ritual, I wasn't anywhere near the person. I can't imagine that it would hurt, though, to have him nearby to see the results of our labor quickly."

Dean nodded at her logic, before turning to Bobby and gestured for the older hunter to help him carry his gigantic brother down to the lobby. The whole group of them-Cordelia, Fred, Willow, Bobby, Dean, and Sam- headed down to the lobby.

As they reached the lobby, they found the rest of the group, minus Angel and John, already waiting in the lobby. Someone seemed to have thought ahead, and there was a mattress already set up on the floor of the lobby. He and Bobby laid Sam on the mattress, and then joined the others who were congregated around what was once the check-in desk when the place was a hotel.

Dean looked around, wondering where his father was. "Where's my…." he began but stopped himself when he saw his dad, followed by Angel emerging from the double doors that led to the outside patio.

The two darkly dressed men came in through the doors wearing identical frowns, which were a step up from the scowls that normally covered their faces when in the presence of one another. The two stopped their progression towards the group when they noticed the curious and confused looks everyone was shooting their way. Not wanting to get into what they had been doing, both also shot identical looks telling the others to back off.

Dean reflected on his father and the ensouled vampire. The two seemed to be growing more and more alike the more time they spent here. Or maybe he was just noticing it more. Either way, Dean was itching to get out of this place. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the help these people were given, but if he were honest with some small part of himself, if it weren't for these people, they probably wouldn't be in this mess, at least not this bad of a mess.

"We doin' this?" John said, coming up to the young witch of the group. Obviously they had already been acquainted, Dean ruminated. He wondered about his dad's reaction to the witch's presence, especially in light of his own reaction.

"Sure thing, Mr. Winchester," the redhead smiled at the man before her. Hearing a snort coming from behind her, she turned to see a smirk on Dean's face.

At her questioning look, he stated, "I haven't heard someone call him that since Sammy was in middle school and got suspended for fighting."

"Sam? Fighting?" Bobby looked incredulously between the two Winchesters. "You sure you didn't get Sam mixed up with yourself?"

"There are some things that even Sam would get in trouble for," John said evenly, pride glimpsing through his words.

"You didn't care about that at the time," Dean joked. "If I remember correctly, someone was pickin' on this fat chick, and Sam stepped to intervene. When words wouldn't work, he took a page out of big brother's book. Man, I don't think Sam sat down for a week after that."

John and Dean shared a smile at that remembered memory.

"Your brother sounds like a hero for geeks. As a former geek myself, I can't wait to meet him. So let's boogey," Willow smiled at the two family members in front of her. She turned to Wesley, "You guys got everything I need?"

"Yes, we prepared things just as it is written."

"Coolness. Alright, Wes you light the candles and spread the bones and runic stones. Bobby, you get the stinky incense, and Fred you help with the incantation."

"I have a question," Cordelia piped in, nervousness evident in her voice. "Will doing the ritual have any effect on Angel?"

"Well, seeing as he already has a soul, I don't think anything should happen," Willow responded, giving Angel a quirky wink.

As soon as Wesley and Bobby were done, a tense silence fell over the group. Fred began the ritual, reading the first line, "Quod perditum est, invenietur."

Willow continued, reading the words from a very old tome, looking more serious than she had this whole time, "Nici mort, nici al fiinţei," until suddenly she stooped.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, "Why did you stop?"

"This won't work," Willow said, as she laid the tome on the desk.

"What? What do you mean? I thought you guys said this would work?" Dean was beginning to panic now. His hopes had been raised; he thought he was going to get his baby brother back. He didn't know if he could stand to lose Sammy all over again.

"Yeah, about that…oops," Willow gave a small smile before walking away. Just as Dean was about to tear into the witch for her apparent apathy for their dilemma, she was suddenly walking back, with a piece of paper in her hand. "Sorry. I had forgottten that Tara, another witch, and I had reworded it. The original ritual was meant as a curse. Since we don't want your brother to walk around cursed for the rest of his life, we had to substitute a word or two. But don't worry, this new version should work."

At the redhead's words, Dean felt the pressure that had developed in the last few minutes recede. He heaved a large sigh, before trading looks with his father and Bobby. He was comforted to see the same fear receding in their eyes; he wasn't alone in the terror that Willow's initial words had brought.

The young woman gave them a slight smile, apologized again, and made her way back to where she was standing before. "Let's try this again. Fred…"

Here Fred read again, "Quod perditum est, invenietur."

Willow once again picked up,

"Nici mort, nici al moarte,
Te invoc spirit al trecerii,
Gods, bind him, cast his heart from the evil realm,
Te implor, Doamne; nu ignoră aceasta rugăminte,
Lăsa orbită să fie vasul care-i vă transportă sufletul la el,
Este scris, aceasta putere este dreptul poporul meu de a conduce,
Redă trupului ce separe omul de animal.
Aşa să fie, cu ajutorul acestui magic glob de cristal.
Aşa să fie! Aşa să fie!
Acum! Acum!"

Dean watched in amazement as the seemingly innocent woman, who had mostly been all smiles and bubblieness, seemed to change in front of him. Her happy voice had deepened, her eyes turned black, and power, an amount he had never felt before, exuded from every pore in her body. Dean took the time to be grateful that this powerful witch was on their side, because he couldn't begin to imagine the damage that she could do with her power.

Dean braced himself for whatever effects the spell would bring. As a rule, hunters steered clear of mystical things like spells. Sure they would do the odd exorcism or summoning, but a flat out spell was something that Dean had not been exposed to, except in movies. So he prepared himself for shrieking winds or thunderous bangs.

As the now black-eyed witch finished the spell, a hush of anticipation filled those around her. Then, just as suddenly as her eyes had turned, Willow was once again normal looking, sporting a small grin. "Well, that was more fun than last time."

The hunters shared looks between themselves. "Did it work?" John's voice rumbled out, hope and dread warring in his tones.

Willow looked around at the group, taking in each of their expressions, locking eyes with Dean last. It almost took her breath away to see the fear and hope lurking there, a look so vulnerable that she somehow knew he would never normally wear. She opened her mouth to speak, not even aware of what she would say, when a gasp interrupted her before she made a sound.

A gasp sounded out in the lobby, sounding as though it had been drawn from the very core of a person, a sound that was painful and heartbreaking and the most beautiful thing that Dean had ever heard. It was the gasp of his baby brother.

Like a flash of lightning, John and Dean were at the side of the youngest member of their broken, little family. Sam was still laying flat on his back on the mattress, but instead of being deathly still, his body constantly moved, his chest heaving up in down as his lungs got used to breathing again, his large, slender hands grasped the edge of the mattress on either side, and his eyes were roving over everything in his field of view before latching onto the visage of his older brother. "Dean?" his voice soft and rough breathed out before he suddenly went limp again, eyes shut and head tilted to the left.

Panicked Winchester eyes met each other before looking back down. John leaned over his youngest, his hand reaching for the ever-important pulse point. He struggled to contain the shake in his hands as he placed his fingers on the boy's neck. His body went slack when he felt a steady thump thump thump under his calloused digits.

Seeing his father's relief took the edge off his panic, but Dean was not satisfied that his brother had apparently passed out. He grasped Sam's shoulders before shaking hard. "Sam!" he barked out, not knowing whether to expect a reply or not.

"Leave him be, Dean," a soft voice and hand on his shoulder took his focus off his brother. Cordelia was smiling at him. "He's okay. Just sleeping."

"Yes, who knows what toll the Ritual may have had on his system," Wesley said. "He may yet sleep for awhile. It is important that he gets all the rest he needs."

"Why?" Dean's voice rose. "Can he relapse?"

"Nah," Willow butted in. "He's just gonna be a little whoopty for awhile. I bet it's kinda crazy havin' your soul shoved back in. Hmm...I wonder that he will remember about everything."

"Yes, that is most interesting. You know there are a lot of theories about the separation of a soul from the body," Wesley's eyes had a bright shine to them at the thought.

"Theories, schmeories. We got Sam back. That's all I care about," Dean muttered, his eyes softening as he took in his brother, who was no longer laying still but tossing gently, his eyes moving rapidly under his eyelids. His big-brained brother couldn't stop thinking, even in his sleep.

"I agree," Bobby said, studiously ignoring the slight choking sensation in his throat.

A whole day had passed before Sam stirred from the deep sleep that had gripped him. His awakening began, as many do after a long sleep, with faint sensation of floating to the surface of a lake. The first real thought he had was of a broken spring poking him in his back. Other sensations drifted in his thoughts: the coarseness of whatever he was laying on, the smell of dust and old books, the sound of something or someone breathing.

As he took in all the sensations, the young hunter tried to recall the reason for him being wherever he was. The memories slammed into him like a semi. He had been with Dean...splitting up...getting stabbed...that god-awful pain with the Avadon demon...being alone and invisible...seeing his brother, his father, Bobby...the feeling of a noose tightening around his neck, dragging him to his body...pain as his body kicked back into life...losing consciousness.

The rush of memories propelled him out of bed. Before he even thought about moving, he was standing in what could have been any of the numerous hotels he had lived in during his youth. His eyes roamed over everything, taking it all in like a dehydrated man takes in water. His gaze came to a stop on the sight of his brother and father slumped in chairs around a bed, the bed he presumably just popped out of, heads lolled and mouths slightly open, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted.

A small smile broke out on Sam's face. It wasn't often that one could catch his brother or father unawares like this, much less BOTH of them. He thought of all that time he spent observing his family as they grieved and planned, unable to really communicate or reach out. But now...if his memories were to be believed, then he was back, and he could now...

THUMP

The loud noise shocked both sleeping Winchesters awake, both gazes going automatically to the bed. Seeing it empty, their gazes shot to the rest of the room. Seeing nothing, they got up, intent on finding the youngest hunter, but not expecting to find him laying flat on the floor silently chuckling to himself.

Sensing their stares, Sam pushed himself up so that his upper body was propped by his arms stretched out behind him. "Hi," he said simply.

"Hey," Dean replied, grinning like a fool at the very alive, very Sammy Sam in front of him.

"Why are you on the floor?" John asked, concern and humor coloring his rough voice.

"Well, I got tired of the bed," Sam joked.

Dean and John both laughed.

"Actually I got up, saw you two, and went to shake you or just touch you, when my legs gave out. I guess they are a little out of practice."

"Yea, well, that's what you get for layin' on your ass all day," Dean joked, leaning over with his hand outstretched to help pull his brother up.

Feeling the warmth of Sam's hand as it gripped and pulled on his own made Dean's smile all the wider. As Dean helped pull him up, John went over, put an arm around his chest to help guide him back to the bed. What happened instead was Sam continued the motion until he had grabbed his father into a hard, comforting hug.

John felt tears well up and something choke his throat as his youngest son's arms tightened around him and his head burrowed into the corner of his neck and shoulder. The father felt more than hear his son say something. Placing his hands on the young man's shoulders and gently pushing him back to stare at some equally watery eyes. "What was that son?"

"I'm sorry, Dad," Sam said, his voice choked with sorrow and guilt.

"Me, too."

Father and son shared a long, understanding look. They would have to talk later, or argue as their wont, but in this moment, they were okay. They were together.

The moment was interrupted by a cough from the other Winchester. "C'mon. Let's get Sammy back in the bed." Dean put his hand on Sam's back, trying to subtly push the floppy-haired man towards the bed.

Sam, however, had different ideas. Breaking contact with his father, he then turned to his brother, taking in the pale skin and dark circles under the eyes. The man looked completely and utterly exhausted. "Wait, Dean."

"C'mon Sammy. You need to lie back down."

"No. I need to tell you..."

"You can tell me later," Dean said, turning away from his brother.

"No, Dean. Now," Sam insisted, grabbing his brother's arm and trying to turn him back around. Even as he managed to get Dean's body turned, the elder brother's gaze was stubbornly averted. "I know you're mad. Probably really pissed. But I also know you were really scared." He just glared as he saw Dean about to refute that statement. "No, I know. I saw you. I saw all of you. I know you thought I was dead, and I know how hard you tried to get me back. By all rights, you should have left me to rot after what I did to you..."

Here he was interrupted by Dean's voice, thick with emotions, too many to tell apart, "No. Don't say that. Don't..."

"I'm sorry." The two words were choked out, as Dean finally met Sam's eyes. Tears had leaked out of the younger man's eyes, trickling down his face like a gentle stream flowing downhill. "I know you read the letter, so you know why I did it. Not that it mattered anyways. But I am sorry that I left you. Again. I should have told you. If I had, then none of this would have happened. You wouldn't have thought...you wouldn't have had to..." Here Sam's voice tapered off, too overcome with guilt and regret to come out.

Words weren't needed then, anyways. Winchesters were men of action more than words, and there was only one action that Dean could think of to comfort himself and his brother. He reached forward, grasping his brother tightly and drawing him into a tight hug, feeling for just a moment, that if he let his brother go, he would lose him forever.

Sam clung to his brother, small, but tightly controlled sobs shaking his body. He knew that physical contact like this was uncommon in their family, and for Dean to have initiated it, Sam knew that the older brother needed the comfort just as much as he did. The young hunter didn't know how long they stood there, clinging to one another in guilt, comfort, desperation, and many other emotions, but he figured it probably wasn't long, despite how it felt.

Slowly, the two let go, each's masculinity demanding that they compose themselves as they recovered from the slightly "chick-flick"-ness of the moment. Dean coughed awkwardly while Sam passed a subtle hand over his face, removing all evidence of tears.

"So...," the youngest Winchester drawled. "What's a guy gotta do to get some food around here? I haven't eaten in...I don't know. How long have I been, you know?"

"Well as far as we can tell, a little over a week," a new voice answered.

Sam spun around to take in the new member of the conversation. "Hey! Bobby," he greeted.

"Sam," the mechanic said, the smile on his face saying it all, as he leaned against the door frame. The older man took in the small family in front of him, observing how the two older Winchesters were looking at the youngest in joy and relief, as said youngest grinned hugely.

A yell from the lobby broke the moment between hunters, between family.

"PIZZA'S HERE!"

"Yes!" Sam exclaimed, heading towards the door, as fast as his stiff limbs would let him. "I am so hungry." As the younger man passed him in the doorway, Bobby placed a worn hand on his shoulder, keeping it there as he followed him out. The last two members followed behind, chuckling softly at his enthusiasm.

The group was making their way to the lobby, when another person emerged from a room, obviously heading for food as well.

As the head of the group, Sam took in the loud blue suit, bright green skin, and small, red horns. "Lorne!" he shouted, his long legs speeding up to catch up with the Host.

Lorne turned as he heard his name called out. "Well as I live and breathe, if it is my little Headache,"
he called out, waiting as the young man reached him.

At the nickname, Sam paused, slightly shuffling his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. "Yea, sorry about that."

"Oh, it's okay, hun. What's a few migraines between friends, huh?" Lorne laughed. "I don't know about you, but all that 'communicating' made me hungry. Shall we?"

The two fell in step with each other, the other hunters falling slightly behind while exchanging bemused looks. Before long the group reached the staircase leading down to the lobby, the enticing smell of pizza sauce and garlic seasoning invading the men's noses, causing them to speed up a fraction more.

Four of the guys picked up speed at the smell, as one of them, Sam, fell to the back ever so subtly. As the group gathered around the pizza, Sam came to a standstill, taking in the tableau before him. It was fascinating how these very different people had come together in this situation to help him. The thought of that amazed and slightly humbled him. He realized then that perhaps he wasn't meant to stop that vision from happening. Maybe he had had it so that this group of wonderfully different people would be put together.

As these thoughts drifted from his mind, a sudden and irrational fear overtook him in an instant. What if he had only dreamed that he was back? What if they never fixed him? What if…

These panicking thoughts were interrupted by a chirpy, "Hi!" coming from the redhead—Willow, his brain reminded him— that had come to stand before him. "I'm…"

"Willow. Yea I know," Sam replied, her presence having shaken his morbid thoughts away.

"So you DO remember?" the young witch was almost bouncing now with excitement. "We were wondering if you would remember anything."

"Yep. I remember everything. Well, everything I was around for. I DID spend a lot of time with Lorne."

Everyone had stopped eating to pay attention to the conversation. Realizing introduction were unnecessary at that point, Cordelia merely motioned Sam over and gestured at the many pizzas as she took a large bite of her own piece.

For the next few hours, the group got to know one another in ways that life or death situations rarely allow strangers to know one another. Sam and Wesley enjoyed intellectual conversations, while Dean and Gunn bonded over weapons. John and Willow, surprisingly, got on well discussing the various supernatural creatures each had come across. Bobby took turns taking part in all conversations, displaying his knack for knowing many different things. As it was late, everyone decided to bunk down for the night in the many rooms at the Hyperion.

The next morning saw many different departures. The four hunters were leaving, and Willow apparently had some pressing matters where she lived. Hugs, handshakes, phone numbers, and thanks were exchanged as the new friends said their goodbyes. Even John and Angel managed semi-civil grunts of farewell to one another.

Willow left first, telling Angel that she would tell everyone hi from him and giving him a hard hug.

Sam looked back at the AI team as he and his family turned to leave. "Thanks again." He followed the other hunters out. They continued until they stood against the two vehicles. Silence descended on the group.

"You're leaving again aren't you?" Sam asked, looking at his father, his face not displaying whatever emotions he felt at the prospect.

"Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you've got to trust me, son. Okay, you've gotta let me go," John said, looking deep into his youngest's eyes.

If this thing in Los Angeles hadn't happened, then Sam might have fought with his father on this. Maybe argued to be part of the fight. After seeing his family's grief at his supposed death, the young hunter just couldn't bring himself to argue. He knew the next time he saw his father that resolve would most likely be broken, but for now, he decided to do what his father asked—to trust him.

All three of them are silent for a moment, close to tears. Finally, Sam patted his father's shoulder once, then let go. John and Dean shared a look, then John walked to his truck, Bobby already in the truck to be dropped back off at his home in South Dakota. Once there, the eldest Winchester looked back at his sons one more time. "Be careful, boys."

Sam and Dean nodded at the sentiment, watching as their father climbed in the monstrous truck and drove off. The two shared sad looks before heading to the Impala. They got in, unconsciously shutting their doors at the same time, and took off in the opposite direction.

If someone listened closely, they could hear the distinctive vocals of Brian Johnson sounding from the slightly open windows.

Back in black. I hit the sack. I've been too long. I'm glad to be back