Well folks, this is the last chapter for this story. It's been nice getting back into writing after a long hiatus. May do more writing, we shall see.

Streaks of morning sunlight broke through the blinds in the study, touching the faded couch and adding much needed warmth to a generally cold and stuffy room.

One beam of light touched Dean's face, prompting heavy lidded eyes to glare at the intrusion of his sleep.

Wait, sleep?

Dean sat up, the blanket that was tucked around him from sometime in the night pooling around his waist. He looked around the study as if he didn't know how he got there.

Sam.

Turning around, Dean realized it was his brother he had been using as an impromptu pillow.

A much more human looking brother.

Another blanket had been laid over Sam from the waist down – but above, Sam looked almost all human again. The plains of Sam's face looked relatively normal – a few places where the skin looked too taught, especially over his cheekbones, but human.

Carefully, Dean took a closer inspection.

Sam breathed deeply, no noticeable hitches to his breathing. He turned over one of Sam's curled hands – long fingers intact, although half the nail-beds were still black. His palms were still a little deformed and the forearm cradled in his hand was still too bulky and swollen - more wolf-like than human, but after almost a week of dealing with a non-human version of his brother and fearing, in the private corner of his mind, that he might not see his real brother again, this was almost more than he could have hoped for.

Gently placing the limb down, he scanned the rest of his brother's body that he could see. There wasn't any fur that Dean saw, and even Sam's hair, though shorter than he remembered, seemed to be the same silky curls that his Mom always loved and his Dad didn't have the heart to get rid of.

He did, however, grimace a little at the dried blood around Sam's mouth. He'd have to get a wet cloth and clean him up. Last thing Sam needed was to wake up to seeing or feeling dried cow blood. He'd probably cry tears over a few cows that would've ended up on the dinner table anyways.

"He hasn't moved since last night – most of the changes started in the last two-three hours." Bobby's unusually quiet voice startled Dean.

Dean turned to look at his surrogate father. "Why'd you let me sleep? I should have been keeping an eye on him." Dean asked roughly, planting his hands on the floor and pushing himself up to stand, grimacing. His left hand ached where the bandages protected the stitches Bobby had put in just a few hours before.

Bobby sipped on a mug, leaning against the study entrance way. His eyes looked tired. "I kept watch."

Dean shook his head, glancing back at his prone brother a few times as he made his way into the kitchen. "Doesn't matter. I'm his brother. It's my job to look out for him."

Bobby watched from the entry way as Dean opened the cupboard, rooting around for a clean mug. "You were going on fumes, Dean. Your body just finally said, 'enough'."

Dean pulled a mug down from the cupboard, reaching for the coffee pot. "Yeah, well, it's still not an excuse."

Bobby could only shake his head. "Idjit." He muttered under his breath. "Well, if you're planning on staying awake then," Bobby drank the last of his coffee and set the mug down on the kitchen table, "then I'm going to bed. Wake me if he gets up." He carefully touched Dean's nearest shoulder, giving it a squeeze, before making his way up the stairs.

Dean took in the now empty kitchen. So much has happened in the last twenty-four hours it was enough to make his head spin.

Quietly, he took his coffee into the study and sat at Bobby's desk, keeping Sam's slumbering form within eyesight at all times. One more quick look around, making sure no one was watching, he reached into the left drawer and pulled out some of Bobby's favorite whisky, adding a touch to his coffee. What Bobby didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?

Nightmares slipped into dreams, dreams into nothingness. He had been lost in nothingness for so long, it took him some time to realize there was something beyond the void. He would catch whispers of it, voices he should know, but names escaped him. The barely audible hum that had echoed in his subconsciousness for what seemed an eternity had finally ceased, leaving him devoid of even that small comfort. He sank back into blissful emptiness for a time, drifting endlessly.

Pain pulled him into twilight semi awareness. His chest ached, the bones shifting under skin and sinew hurt. His breath hitched, the pain blinding in its agony.

"Sammy."

Gentle fingers combed through his hair, a large hand resting on top of his head. "I need you to wake up now."

Some part of Sam did not want to wake. Waking meant pain and memories, fear and failure.

"Come on man, I need you." Gentle, cajoling. Dean going back to their childhood habits. While Dad had demanded loyalty and obedience, Dean had offered a hand, promising and supporting. It made Sam want to do whatever he could to help his brother, while pushing away from their Dad.

His right hand flopped against the floor, the muscles struggling to obey. His eyelids fluttered, straining to open.

"That's it – open those eyes of yours before I rent out your seat in the car."

The groan was only half pained. "M'ron." God, he'd missed his brother.

Finally, his eyes slit open, revealing the tired green eyes of his brother staring back at him. "D'n?"

Dean's throat bobbed, eyes a little wet. He realized Dean's hand was still resting on the top of his head as his hair was tugged, his brother's fingers tightening unconsciously.

"Did I... miss...anything?" Echoing words he had asked his brother once before, a long time ago.

Instead of getting punched this time, his brother merely laughed. "Nothing worth telling, Sammy."

They stayed in companionable silence for a few minutes, Sam struggling to get his body to obey commands, and Dean seemingly content to just sit by his side and wait.

Finally - "Dean? Why am I naked on the floor?"

Dean paused, lips pursing as he considered. "Well... we weren't going to try and lift your heavy ass off the floor, so we kind of left you here." At Sam's glare, which looked hilarious upside down, he ducked his head, trying not to laugh. "At least Bobby gave you a blanket to protect your dignity."

Sam's fingers twitched around the warm material, bunching it between his fingers. "Dean..."

"You want some clothes?" Dean hedged.

"Like, yesterday, man."

The elder Winchester couldn't help but laugh. The stress of the last twelve days falling off of him made him feel almost lightheaded. Patting Sam's shoulder, Dean pulled himself up. "Keep your blanket on, I'll find some clothes from the spare room."

Sam slept most of the next two days, his body slowly gaining strength back as he recovered.

Dean did his best to limit his hovering while Sam was awake, a feat which Sam was grateful for. He wanted normalcy back in his life, as much as his life would allow.

Dean and Bobby shared details of what had happened over the last several days with Sam over a late night meal, although some events they downplayed or just didn't say aloud. Some things Sam didn't need to know, if only to lessen any guilt the man may feel for things that were not in his control. Whether Sam believed they'd told him everything or not, he didn't say and Dean didn't ask.

Once Sam had regained consciousness, Bobby had quietly checked on the woman from the barn, and other than a broken foot, she was unharmed from the attack, much to their relief.

It was on the third day since Sam had, to quote his brother 'returned from the wolf side', the brothers decided it was time to get back on the road.

Bobby gave them both a gruff hug. Bobby held the door open as they eased past him down the stairs toward the car. "You boys take care of yourselves, you here? And try not to get eaten, bitten, stung, zapped or stepped on for at least twenty-four hours?"

Dean threw the bags into the trunk and slammed the lid down. "No promises, Bobby." He grinned at the man he saw as a second father.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Idjits. Both of you." Shaking his head, he waved goodbye and shut the door behind him.

Dean turned the ignition on, feeling the Impala purr under his hands. Turning to Sam, he drank in the sight of his brother, whole and healthy... more or less. "You sure you're okay?"

Sam didn't take the question badly. If anything, he seemed more tolerant of Dean's hovering than usual. They both needed each other, now perhaps, more than ever.

Sam smiled at his brother, tired but no less sincere. "Yeah, I'm good."

Dean adjusted the rearview mirror. "Okay good." he shifted his hand down and threw the car into reverse, backing onto the road before switching into drive. "Because we've got work to do."

END

A/N: That's it everyone! I hope you enjoyed.