A/N: Well, this is it. The last chapter. This story has so many loyal followers and reviewers; y'all have made writing it so much fun. Thank you. If you like my writing, I have two ongoing stories right now: "Ordinary Human" and "Daddy Drabbles." Again, I can't thank you enough for coming on this journey with me and our boys. Enjoy the last chapter.

"Dad, you really need to call me back."

"Dad, Dean's a lot worse. The Angel won't help us."

"I don't know what to do, I don't think I can help him anymore. Please call back."

"Dave says his aura is almost completely black, if you care. Which I guess you don't. Don't bother picking up the phone now or coming home."

"Dad, you should come say goodbye, it would mean a lot to Dean. I mean, he's not exactly conscious right now but…call me back. Maybe I can put the phone up to his ear. Dave says there isn't much time left. Please…please come home."

xxx

Dean's brother sat on the floor in the corner of his brother's room with his hands clasped tightly around his ears in an attempt to block out the harsh, strained panting of his brother, horrified that the one simple task left to him Dean could not handle. The noise filled the crevices of the room, seemed to swell up under Sam and carry him off into a paralyzing abyss of fear and grief.

Dean was on the bed, flat on his back and not moving. Dave sat beside him, trying to ease some of his discomfort with a damp cloth and gentle fingers. The doctor knew the boy would be dead before the stars came out to say goodbye but he tried not to think about it even though he was sure that every labored breath was the breath. The last.

He'd seen so many Hunters take their final breaths; he didn't know why he was so bothered by the scene in front of him. Maybe it was the kid in the corner whose head was buried in his arms. Maybe it was because he'd stuck around for the last couple weeks, had tried to nurse Dean through this even though there was no through. Or maybe it was because that this, the impenetrable darkness and heaviness of the aura, slammed into him along with memories of his sisters.

Dave hadn't been able to save his sisters and now – so many years later – he had failed again with Dean. For all he knew, he would live fifty or sixty or maybe even eighty years and never know the answer. Never be able to banish his footprint that lingered upon him. Except his was created from pure guilt and not from a demon. He didn't know which was more difficult to erase.

When Dean's breathing turned from great gasps to shallow whispers, he knew. He abandoned the cloths, the stethoscope, and stopping only to place a hand briefly on Sam's slumped shoulders, turned his back on the cavern of black now overtaking the room. He bypassed the liquor sitting next to the fridge – it didn't seem right – and went to join Bobby out in the yard. Dave didn't say a word when Bobby acknowledged him with a nod because the older man already knew. He'd said his goodbyes the night before, whispered gruff words into the pale hand he held between his own. He hadn't touched a drink all day.

Sam rose on shaky legs a couple minutes after Dave left, pushed himself up against the wall. He'd been crying on and off all day and his eyes were burning with itchiness, each blink of his eyelashes felt like a scratch against his heart. He watched Dean for a moment before taking one step then two toward him, pausing in the middle of the room, admiring the full frame of his brother, still so solid under the blankets. Still so there. Then Sam continued on the rest of the way.

When he put one knee onto the bed, the mattress moaned in protest as it sunk beneath his weight but Sam didn't try to quiet his movements; Dean wouldn't hear them. His brother hadn't woken up since yesterday afternoon and even then it was for a very non-lucid fleeting moment.

Sam settled in next to Dean, lifting his brother's arm so that Sam could snuggle up to Dean's side, burrowing his head under Dean's arm so that he could feel his brother's heartbeat against his cheek. Sam didn't want to see Dean die. He didn't want to hear or feel Dean die either. So he closed his eyes and let his exhausted body take over from his grief-shattered mind, let the thump thump thump of Dean's last heartbeats soothe him into sleep.

xxx

Castiel could tell how many people were in the house at the same time. He knew each of the human's pulse rates and oxygen levels, knew the precise number and configuration of the molecules that made up their bodies. He could spit out in unbelievable detail every biological process of the humans and yet couldn't think of a single reason for the great lengths at which they'd gone to procure him.

Castiel knew John Winchester had been searching out angels for quite a while now, almost a decade. The Hunter hadn't put a great deal of time into researching them but they interested him and became his hobby. Most of the Angels in Heaven knew about John Winchester because he knew about them. Still…they had never thought that a summoning spell might have curled its way through Heaven's doors. Lucky Castiel, low on the pecking order and eager to please, had been the one shoved off clouds, so to speak.

Take care of this problem, Castiel.

Prove yourself to us.

Go.

Now he was stuck underground waiting for the magic to fade enough for him to get loose.

He might not have understood exactly what was going on but all emotions carried a scent and this house reeked of grief. Utter sadness that wove its way downstairs and into the Angel Trap. Castiel found that, similar to the spells encircling on his wrist and neck, he could not escape the cloying smell of grief. It smelled of the same sweetness that came from maple trees but laced with something sinister and peppery, like tar.

The gifted one, the one who could see auras, left the house through the backdoor and – Castiel cocked his head – took one hundred and four steps south. That left only the Winchester brothers inside and they were in the same bedroom they usually occupied: Dean by need and Sam by choice.

The Angel pushed open the door to the basement and ascended the stairs. The Angel Trap grew easier to break out of every day and this time it was no effort at all to enter the first floor of Bobby Singer's house. Castiel continued down the hallway unopposed and wasn't surprised when he found Sam Winchester sleeping; the rhythm of his breathing had already given his vulnerability away. He was, however, curious as to why Sam was curled around his dying brother, one hand thrown over Dean's chest, his stomach pressed against Dean's hipbone. Humans were very strange creatures.

Dean Winchester was almost dead. He had, Castiel approximated, about four hundred and thirty breaths left. Not a lot.

He was here to escort Dean Winchester's soul to Heaven so that it could be safely held until it was needed again. They had used it rather rashly twenty-six years ago when they'd shoved him into this vessel. Yes, there was the plan of Michael and Lucifer down the road but that could be – would be – readjusted. Other vessels would come into use. Dean Winchester would be taken to Heaven and Sam Winchester would be…disassembled. The boy was too dangerous by himself. Dean and Sam would meet in another lifetime just not…as Dean and Sam. John Winchester would have to be dealt with also and probably Bobby Singer as well but what other choice did Castiel have? And what was four fewer humans on the earth anyway?

Three hundred and ninety-two breaths to go.

Castiel reached out two fingers but stopped only four inches from Dean's forehead when he saw wetness on the younger Winchester's cheeks. They were tears, he realized, as he smelled salt. Sam Winchester was crying in his sleep. As if he felt the staring, the boy turned his head farther into Dean's side, hiding his face from view. But Castiel had already seen.

He was just a child. An innocent handicraft of the Lord, Castiel's Father. The red flecks that spun in his aura were prevalent but shone less brightly than the pale gold surrounding them. He squirmed when Castiel laid a hand on the crown of his head but did not wake.

As far as he knew – and Castiel had been briefed on the Winchester situation not long ago – Dean had been like a parent figure to Sam, raising him from the time he was six months old to the day he left to continue his schooling. Sam's soul would never be at rest without his brother's near him, that much Castiel could sense. Was it fair to put him through infinite torture just for a plan? A plan that could very well be carried out by two other, different souls.

Castiel paused.

He'd never disobeyed an order before, let alone such a direct one. But there was something about the two humans lying on the bed that disconnected a wire in his brain, as if they'd somehow just pulled up a shade drawn over his eyes. His gaze was drawn to his wrists as the spells glowed blue and then faded to a faint outline. Grace surged in Castiel as he took a step backward, thrown off balance by his returning power. He ripped the bonds off as if they were nothing more than mere rope. He could have fled then, could have disappeared with the rustle of wings, leaving no trace beyond except for the torn leather that had fallen to his feet. Instead, Castiel took a step back toward the bed until his thighs were pressed against the mattress.

First, he reached out and laid his full palm on Sam Winchester's forehead, causing his muscles to relax and the line between his eyebrows to smooth out. Then Castiel turned his attention to Dean Winchester.

His human body was a wreck. Plastic tubes and needles slid under his skin and the machine that connected to the mask over his nose and mouth was making odd hissing noises at frequent intervals. The right side of Dean's body was weakened, almost useless, but when Castiel laid a hand on the young man's arm, the paralysis disappeared. The wounds across Dean's torso didn't require much attention anymore and Castiel skipped over them in favor of reducing the fever.

The footprint would require more energy than anything else. It was the ugly mark that was making it difficult for Dean to breathe, killing by slow suffocation. Not the trademark death of Azazel, which puzzled Castiel, but cruel and painful all the same.

Castiel woke the boy with a touch to the forehead and Dean eyes opened with clarity.

"Wha?" he gasped, staring up at the Angel.

"Don't attempt to move," Castiel said. "Your brother is sleeping next to you. And you are still extremely ill." Dean blinked and grunted out a cough, stunned when he was able to bring his right hand up to massage his chest. He curled his fingers, staring at amazement when they obeyed without faltering.

"Who are you?" Dean asked, pulling the oxygen mask aside.

"You may call me Castiel." Dean's eyes were wide as he looked the strange man up and down.

"What are you?" Castiel wanted to smile.

"I am an Angel of the Lord." Disappointment and resignation clouded Dean's vision and he let his head fall back onto the pillows.

"I'm dreaming." It was a good dream, with Sam curled up next to him like this. He ran his now-working hand through his brother's silky hair, letting the pieces fall from his touch.

"You are not dreaming," Castiel said.

"There are no such things as Angels," Dean said.

"Have you, Dean Winchester, ever stopped to think that perhaps you do not know everything about this world?" Castiel said, almost in jest. He pulled up the bedside chair not because he was tired of standing but perhaps Dean would trust him more if he were closer to eye-level. Dean didn't answer.

"I am here to help," Castiel said. "I think."

"Do you also have commitment issues? Join the club." Deans said. He was still tired, still struggling to breathe while this angel or whatever sat and made small talk. He drew Sam in closer to him, lulled by the younger boy's steady heartbeat.

"I would like to make a deal," Castiel said. Instantly, Dean grew wary and his hold on Sammy's shirt tightened. He made to rise but Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down.

"What kind of deal?"

"A fair one, by my standards at least."

"Spit it out," Dean said. "Who am I selling my soul to?" Castiel's eyebrows dipped in confusion.

"Your soul is not part of the bargain. Not in the way you assume." Dean rolled his eyes, waving at the Angel to continue. He still couldn't decide if he was hallucinating or not but just in case he wasn't…he wanted to hear all his options.

"I will heal you," Castiel said, "I will rid you of this mark upon your soul so that you may stay with your family." Here, Castiel's gaze flickered to Sam. "Your brother needs you."

"What do you want?" Dean asked, suspicious. A bargain meant something in return and Dean didn't have a lot of cards to play with.

"A promise," Castiel replied.

"What promise?"

"You must hunt and kill the yellow-eyed demon as soon as possible."

"You want me to go after the thing that almost killed me and is now after my brother?"

"Correct." Dean bit his lower lip, considering.

"And if I don't?"

"You die," Castiel said without emotion. "In about eighteen minutes."

"What happens then?" Dean wanted to know. He pulled himself up higher on the pillows, dragging Sam with him. "What happens to Sammy? Does the demon get him?"

"No," Castiel said. "Your brother is too dangerous to let live."

"What?" Dean said, voice rising in just one syllable. He moved his body so that he was shielding Sam as much as possible, his rough breaths making Sam's hair flutter. Still his brother did not wake. "You're not going to touch Sam!"

"You are your brother's protector," Castiel said. "You have been since he was six months old. Without you, Sam would be…unpredictable." Castiel paused and then continued. "I will, however, take both of your souls to Heaven if you wish it. It would be against orders but I believe there would not be many complaints. You would spend the rest of eternity together."

"But we would be dead."

Castiel inclined his head in agreement.

"And if I say yes to the deal, if I decide to live then Sammy gets to live too?" Dean caught Castiel's hesitation before the Angel could answer. "What?" Dean asked. "Does he die?"

"Your brother is dangerous," Castiel said. "If you choose to accept the deal, Sam will live but only if you can protect him."

"What am I protecting him from?" Dean said. The room was losing focus and the brief respite he'd gotten from Castiel's awakening was fading as his lungs refused to inflate all the way. He felt like they'd been bound with rubber bands.

"I should not have told you as much as I have."

"Whoa," Dean said, letting his head hit the headboard as he lost the strength to hold it up. "You can't stop there. Not fair."

"Sam needs the most protection from himself," Castiel said, reaching out to touch the younger boy. It was hard to believe that a soul so young could do so much damage. That this boy in front of him was the one who would bring the apocalypse, destroy everything that Castiel's Father had created. The Angel held a flicker of doubt in his mind. Sam Winchester did not seem evil. He seemed…loved.

"That doesn't make any sense, buddy," Dean rasped. He closed his eyes, taking a breath from the oxygen mask, startled to find it didn't provide much relief, if any at all. His mind raced. If he died then Sam would die with him and they would go somewhere together. Dean didn't believe in Heaven but then again he hadn't believed in Angels ten minutes ago either.

But die? He was just starting to have fun with his life, just starting to do what he wanted without John always hovering nearby.

And Sam…

Sam loved his life. He had Jess and Stanford. Dean couldn't be sure that Sam would want this. Actually, Dean knew deep inside that Sam wouldn't choose death, even if meant spending eternity with his brother. Sam had never needed Dean the way Dean needed Sam. And as much as he wanted to, Dean couldn't take that choice away from his brother. He loved Sam too much to do that to him.

Twenty-six breaths left.

"What's wrong with Sam?" Dean asked, eyes still closed. His chest shuddered and he coughed, feeling saliva trickle from the corner of his mouth, slide down his cheek.

"I cannot tell you that." Dean could only manage to raise his eyes to half-mast. Everything was dark around the edges now; Castiel was only a blur. When he shifted, those blue eyes seemed to glide across the space between them until they were close enough for Dean to focus on. They weren't soft exactly but there was a kind depth to them that eased him for a moment. Then the moment was gone.

"You're kind of a dick."

"What will it be, Dean Winchester?" The words were whispered but sharp, like a sheathed scimitar. "What do you choose?"

Eternity of happiness or a Hunt?

Sammy or a demon?

Life or death?

Eleven breaths left.

xxx

Two weeks later...

"You are not going anywhere!"

Sam's voice followed Dean all the way out into the yard, trailing after him as he threw his duffel into the back seat of the Impala.

"Dean!"

"Lay off, Sam!"

"You almost died two weeks ago! I was there, I saw it!"

Dean slammed the door of the Impala and turned to face his brother. Sam was standing only a few feet away, cheeks flushed with anger, hands formed into fists that he was struggling to keep at his side.

"Yeah but I didn't," Dean said. "I'm fine."

Fine was a bit of an exaggeration but compared to where he was last week, literally on his deathbed, Dean was fine.

"Dean." The one word was a plea.

"Sammy, I can't stick around here, I told you that."

"What are you going to do?"

"Hunt."

"Yeah, you keep saying that," Sam said, following Dean back into the house where Bobby was sitting at the kitchen table, Dave opposite him. Both had a plate of eggs in front of them but neither had touched their meal. A meal that Dean had made them just before he announced he was leaving.

"Watch," Dean instructed his brother then turned to the other men. "Dave, how's my aura? Clean, right? Shiny gold?"

"Yeah," Dave said reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean you should be going out this soon." Dean ignored the second part.

"See?" he said to his brother. "I'm fine."

"Stop saying that!" Sam shouted. "You're not fine!"

"C'mon Bobby, help me out," Dean said. "Tell him I'm good to go." Bobby shook his head.

"Boy, you were laying in a hospital for weeks, shriveling up to nothing. Give your brother a little credit. We don't wanna lose you."

Dean growled in frustration. Two weeks ago the angel Castiel had made him a deal. His health for a Hunt. Now that Dean had his health back, he was eager to get on with his end of the bargain. Castiel had given him few details: only that the demon's name was Azazel and he was after Sam among other children. That was it. But it was enough.

"You're not going to lose me," he said. "Listen, Sammy, I have to do this, okay? I can't explain it. You're just going to have to trust me."

"Why won't you tell me?" Sam asked. "Just tell me, goddammit."

"I can't," Dean said, shaking his head. "I just can't." He wasn't about to let Sam in on the grand plot twist. The fact that his brother was somehow dangerous, that Dean had to save him. He wasn't going to destroy Sam's life. Bobby would keep him safe until Dean could hunt down Azazel.

"Thank you," Dean said to Dave, shaking the doctor's hand. "Thank you." Dave nodded. "I have to go," Dean said, turning to Bobby. "You know that."

"Don't make it any easier," Bobby said. "I don't understand you, boy. Then again, never have." Dean licked his lips and then swallowed, nodding.

"I'm meeting up with Dad in Omaha," he said in response. To Sam he said nothing, just looked his brother in the eye and then placed a hand on his shoulder. Sam refused to look at his older brother, tears welling in his eyes. His jaw clenched as the front door slammed behind him.

Dean sat in the Impala for several minutes, hands on the steering wheel, just waiting. He wasn't sure what exactly he was waiting for because he was ready. Ready to get back on the road and start the Hunt. He could feel the adrenaline already starting to pump, blossoming from a ball of warmth in his stomach and spreading to his fingers, putting them into motion as he turned the key in the ignition. The Impala roared to life, purring it's familiar song to its favorite driver.

"Yeah, baby," he said, patting the dash. "I'm ready to go."

The car was in reverse, already rolling through the gravel when the passenger door opened and Sam landed in the front seat. Dean hit the brakes, throwing both of them forward.

"Get out of the car," Dean said.

"No," Sam said.

"Sam, this isn't a joke. Get out of my car."

"No."

Dean let out a long breath through his nose and flexed his fingers over the wheel. His little brother could be obstinate; he reminded Dean so much of John at times. Like now, for instance.

"I'm coming with you," Sam said, staring out the windshield.

"No, you're not," Dean said.

"If you're going to be stupid enough to do this, then I'm coming with you. I'm not letting you out of my sight, not after these last couple months."

"You're not coming," Dean said, trying to shove his brother out of the car. Sam shoved back. He was stronger than Dean, especially when Dean wasn't back up to one hundred percent yet. Castiel had healed him but had left alone the weakened muscles and fading wounds on his chest. Those would heal in time, by themselves.

"Yes, I am," Sam said. "No," he continued, talking over Dean's attempt to argue. "I know what you're going to say. But I do know what I'm doing. And I'm okay with it. With giving all of it up. I don't know what you're after, Dean, but I'm not going to let you do it alone."

If you choose to accept the deal, Sam will live but only if you can protect him.

"Okay," Dean said, watching Sam's frown turn to disbelief.

"What?" He hadn't thought it would be this easy to sway Dean. But he also didn't know how much better Dean felt having his brother within sight.

"You can come," Dean said. When Sam smiled in return, his face reminded Dean of the child who used to cuddle up with him in bed, of the one who used to split the last cookie in two when he was just a toddler.

It had always been his job to protect Sammy. Always would be. But maybe they could start protecting each other from now on. Dean liked the sound of that.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading; I've truly loved writing and updating this story :)