Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

It was almost fall again before Dean was mostly mobile. Almost a year since Sam was first taken and their whole journey began. He wasn't at one-hundred percent yet, but he was getting close. And that meant he was getting anxious to move on. As much as he tried to hide it, Sam saw through him.

Sam always saw through him.

John came back a week after he first left, and he stayed until Dean no longer needed the heavy painkillers and Sam's nightmares no longer woke up everyone on the second floor of Bobby's house. (While the nightmares never died down in intensity, Sam managed to learn how to keep quiet.) After that, he left regularly to go on hunts, and Dean begged to join him every time.

But Dean hadn't been ready to join those hunts. Now, he could if he wanted to. It might take a few hunts to get him back into the shape he used to be in, but that was never an issue for Dean.

Sam. Sam didn't know if he was fit to go back into hunting. His powers would be invaluable to them, but he hated that he loved to use them. He hated the demon's voice in his ears, the voice that got stronger, more insistent, any time he considered using his powers.

But there would be far too many drawbacks to him returning to hunting. Motel rooms that could send him into flashbacks. The possibility that his mind might shut down to the point where he is too detached from reality to know what's going on around him, what Dean calls his bad or worst days. There were so many things that could go wrong if he went on a hunt. Someone could get seriously hurt because of him.

No, he had to stay away from hunting. For now, at least. Maybe forever.

He had a plan, but he knew Dean wouldn't like it.

Sam stood silently on Bobby's old porch for awhile, letting the sunlight warm skin that had become far too pale over the worst winter of his life. He kept as much skin covered as he could bear—the weather still holding onto the warmth of the fading summer—long sleeves turned into rolled up sleeves, but never much shorter than that.

The old burn on his wrist still stood out, prominent against the skin around it, but he no longer knew what it stood for. Without the numbers, was it a symbol of slavery? Was it the sign of rebellion against the people who tried so hard to take his freedom and break him? Was it just the reminder of a night spent in a foreign city with an addled mind and poor judgment?

"What did you want to talk about?" Dean asked, leaning against the house and looking almost relaxed for the first time in a long time.

"I can't live like this, Dean."

"Sam—"

Sam shook his head, interrupting before Dean got the wrong idea. Which, judging from the pure panic in his eyes, he already had.

"I mean… I'm not okay, Dean. We both know that, and it's keeping you and Dad here," he said. "I know that you both want to help, and I really appreciate that, but I can't live knowing that I'm stealing your life."

"Sammy…"

"I can't hunt, not without putting both of you in danger," Sam said. "We never know what's going to send me into a flashback, or if I might lose control of myself. I bring too many variables. Too many variables that could lead to serious injury or death."

"You can't ask me to leave you behind, Sam. I just can't do that."

"If you don't, you're going to lose your mind. I've seen how you act like a caged animal when you're trapped in one place for too long."

"I do not."

"Dean…"

"Really, I can find something to do now that I'm back on my feet and all," Dean said. "It's not a big deal."

"That's a lie," Sam said. "Hunting is important to you. It's important to you and Dad, and I know that you want to get back on the road. You go, and I'll stay. It's not like we're saying goodbye forever. You can come back to Bobby's and see me whenever you want."

"You've already talked to Bobby about it?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "It was kind of his idea."

Sam sat at the kitchen table with a book opened in front of him. He was supposed to be helping with the research for his dad's hunt while Dean had been sent on a run into town because his pacing and frustration over being left behind again were driving Bobby crazy.

"How much longer until Dean goes with John, whether John wants him to or not?" Bobby asked.

Sam shrugged. "He's walking pretty well now. He barely has any issues, other than dealing with the lost muscle from lying around for so long."

"What about you?"

"I have too many issues to count," Sam said. "I'm still afraid to so much as close my eyes because I know what I'll see, and I don't want to see it."

"What will you see?" Bobby asked, taking the book from in front of Sam in a subtle demand for his full attention.

"Hell. Hell for others or myself."

"Do you think you deserve Hell?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "But I'm scared that it's where I'm heading. I'm not sure I'll ever be fit for hunting again."

"No one's gonna force you to hunt," Bobby said. "You can stay here if you want."

"You don't want to deal with me forever, Bobby."

"You say that like it's a burden, but you're like a son to me, Sam. You can stay as long as you want."

"But the more I shut out the world, the more afraid I'll be of re-entering it. I have to face my fears," Sam said, as if it ever worked for him in the past.

Bobby snorted. "Ain't that a load of horse shit. We'll get you set up for homeschooling so you can get still graduate high school, and you've always been smarter than your teachers anyway. Besides, there's a day therapy program in town that I think would do you some good. Not all your problems are supernatural."

"That's… Bobby, I…"

"Just think about it, Sam," Bobby said. "You don't have to make any decisions right now."

"I will. Thank you."

Bobby slid the book back over to Sam and gave him a clap on the shoulder. "You boys gonna be happy with chili tonight?"

Sam nodded, feeling like there was a future for him for the first time since he was taken.

"He's setting me up for homeschooling and a day therapy program," Sam said. "I might be able to get better one day."

"I wish I could give you the things you need," Dean said.

"What you need is to spill more blood, isn't it? Or have you forgotten how good it made you feel?"

Sam clenched his jaw and his fists. The demon's voice refused to leave his head, always coming back when he started to believe he was gone for good. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. Tried to not let the extent of his problems show.

If he did, Dean would never go back to living his own life. He would shackle himself to Sam, regardless of what he wanted for himself.

"I know you do," Sam said. "But Bobby can give me those things. You know I'll be safe with him."

"I know, but it's hard to let you out of my sight after everything that's happened."

Sam nodded. The breeze held a bit of a chill in it, but he saw that it was a beautiful day. His mind was no longer so clouded and distracted that he couldn't take a moment to appreciate it. He wondered how many little things he missed over the past year because there were so many big things demanding his full attention.

"It's not like you're leaving right now," Sam said. "Maybe think about it."

"Yeah, I will."

Soon enough, Sam knew that Dean would see this solution was best for both of them. Dean got to return to his life on the road with their father, hunting things and saving people. Sam got stability and access to programs that could, with time, help him recover. Help him regain scraps of the life stolen from him.

If Dean held true to his words, he would see that they only had one option.

John found a simple salt and burn nearby Bobby's house to take Dean on as a trial run to test if he was ready to rejoin the hunting life. Dean, being a natural born hunter, passed John's test with flying colors.

Which meant his departure was inevitable and drawing close. Sam thought he'd prepared himself for this day, but preparation sometimes wasn't enough.

He watched from the porch as John and Dean packed their few bags into the Impala, opting to leave John's truck behind for the time being. He knew that Dean would choose to leave, and he knew it was the only logical option for both of them, but it hurt to be left behind, even if it was of his own choice.

"You sure this is what you want, Sammy?" Dean asked, pausing in readying the Impala for departure to stand beside Sam. "Not too late to change your mind and come with us."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Sam said, despite his dwindling resolve to do what was best for his family and himself.

Dean nodded. "Well, Bobby will take good care of you, and we'll be back to see you again before you know it."

"I know you will."

They stood in silence, goodbyes not a Winchester specialty.

John closed the Impala's trunk and came to join them on the porch. "About time we hit the road, Dean."

"Yeah," he said.

John gave Sam a pat on his shoulder and a nod. "I'd tell you to be good, but I don't think you need someone to tell you that. You've always been a good kid."

Sam didn't reply, unused to being openly praised by John, no matter how small the comment was.

John didn't need any reply. He moved on and got in the driver's seat of the Impala.

"I guess that's my cue," Dean said. He wrapped Sam in a tight hug. "Call anytime. I don't care if it's the middle of the night, got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

Dean hesitated for a bit longer, then ruffled Sam's hair, flashed him a signature smile, and got in the Impala with their father.

Bobby came out, the moment between the Winchesters over, and stood beside Sam, both of them watching long after the Impala disappeared into the distance. Bobby put his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Think I'll ever be able to rejoin them?" Sam asked.

"If you want to, sure," Bobby said. "But I think you need some stability first. A chance to process through everything. Especially since you've spent the past months taking care of Dean instead of yourself."

Sam shrugged. Taking care of Dean kept his mind from wondering to topics that he didn't want to think about. Now, with it being just him and Bobby, he had more than enough time to think about how he was a murderer and how he was probably buying himself a one-way ticket to Hell.

"Yeah, I'm sure it'll be nice to have a routine for now."

He felt the taint on his soul, the stain that he couldn't wash away. There were no day therapy programs for that, and getting a high school degree wouldn't make his soul any cleaner. He saw a blur of shadow in his peripheral vision. But when he flicked his eyes over to get a better look, nothing was there.

"Where do we begin?"

Author's Note: Here's the actual end. It's been quite the ride and I'm glad that so many of you have enjoyed it thus far, your support really kept me going when it got difficult to write at some points.

But wait, there's still more! After I post this, I will post a short first chapter for the third part titled Embracing the Monster. If it's not yet in the archives, hopefully you will be able to find it on my profile. Sometimes, there are delays for it to show up.

Before you go, please leave one final review! I hope to see you in part three!