AN - Have lived up to my name with this chapter, it's looooong.

Special AN - Nicole, you're back stateside now and you're missed! If you ever get this far into it, I'm waving hello!

It was all going so well.

For a little over a week, everything had been going incredibly smoothly, and despite Sam looking shell-shocked for about a minute or two during their first hunt, (and for some reason which Dean couldn't discern, seeming disorientated and distracted during the Rawhead hunt) he'd recovered remarkably quickly in each instance (Dean would never admit out loud that he'd been hugely impressed with how much skill and muscle memory his brother had retained). The week had been exhausting though, the motel rooms along the way had been… interesting to say the least, and the food had been either delicious or disgusting, depending on which brother wrote the Yelp review.

Now they were on the final hunt; the vamp nest. The sweep had been textbook, Dean on point, Sam on rear, all lines of sight cleared, bloodsuckers taken out cleanly as they went, Dean handling the bulk, Sam dusting the surplus. And by then, had it not been for the worry for Sam constantly niggling at the back of Dean's mind, or perhaps precisely because of it, old routines had come back as smoothly and effortlessly as though they had never been shelved at all.

It had all been going so well.

Until it all went to hell.

And now, there Dean was, pinned against a wall, a vamps fetid ferrous breath acrid in his face, the wrong side of a blade the only thing keeping them apart, the only thing keeping Dean alive, even as it inched closer to his neck, and for the life of him Dean couldn't recall how the proverbial had hit the fan so damn fast. One minute they were fine, the next…

One rotten floorboard, one express elevator down through the floor to land on his ass in the room below. One moment of disorientation where he may have been knocked unconscious, because when he came to, all he saw was Sam's panic-stricken face staring down at him from the gaping hole in the ceiling above, Sam's mouth moving as though he were shouting but other than the ringing in his ears, Dean couldn't hear a damned thing, but he managed to get to his feet all the same. Ignoring the pain razing down his leg, he'd slashed at the vamp charging towards him even as he lost his own footing again in the detritus, and screamed at Sam to get the hell out, to burn the joint to the ground, before the vamp launched Dean into the air and slammed him up against a wall, the force of the blow causing Dean to black out again for just a split second.

At least, he thought it was just a split second, it couldn't have been more, but Dean had no idea where Sam was now. He hoped he'd done as Dean had barked up at him from the pile of rubble, hoped Sam had left the building just as they'd agreed he would.

As long as Sam got away, it was just Dean and the bloodsucker, and for a moment time seemed to slow down and Dean's mind went blank. As he stared at the sharp fangs gnashing just inches from his flesh, held at bay by the machete, but probably not for much longer, he felt a sudden moment of clarity and everything around him seemed to fall away. There was a purity to it, all things considered, to things ending this way for him, and for a moment he was filled with an irrational sense of calm.

He could do it, he realised.

He could simply just do it. He could just let it happen.

He could relax his muscles, release the tension. Let the blade slide towards him and just be done with it, be done with all of it. He could finally stop fighting.

And there was something about it being this way, as if it was meant to be. As if in another life, if he believed in such things, some version of this would be the way things played out for him when his number was finally up; pinned up against a wall in some derelict vamp's nest. Dead on a hunt. That was always gonna be his ending. That was always gonna be his ultimate fate.

And by God, he was almost ready, coz he was so god damned tired of fighting.

And there was almost nothing in him right then, right in that moment, almost not a damned thing that he could think of as reason enough to not give up. Not angels. Not the Apocalypse. Not Bobby. Not even Cas. Nothing.

And he closed his eyes. Just for a second, he closed his eyes and believed that he could actually do it, felt himself touching some kind of peace at the knowledge that it would finally all be over.

Except for Sam.

Whether he'd left the building or not, it wouldn't be over for Sam. Dean couldn't leave him, not like this. Not in danger, not with his child missing. And it wouldn't be over for Deanna, or Eric, or Kyle, or Jess. And he'd promised Deanna, hadn't he, that he'd fix it. So how could Dean let the kid down? How could Dean ever be at peace with that? How could he ever leave without knowing that Sam and his family would be okay?

He couldn't give up, he couldn't stop, not yet. Even if only for Sam, if only ever for Sam, he had to keep fighting. He had to try. Because he had a job to do; a kid brother to take care of.

With the thought of his brother's safety jolting his brain like an electric shock, time returned to normality, the moment of surrender passed as quickly as it had been borne and, on its death, Dean was instantly aware of the sensations that just seconds ago he'd thought he could leave behind. The pain in his leg, the ringing in his ears, the throbbing in his head. The blade and the fangs and the vamp in his face. Dean's forearm, wedged as it was to halt the blade, had given way a little and the blood trickling down from his wrist sent the vamp on some bloodlust fuelled frenzy and it took all of everything Dean had to knee the bastard in the balls and then kick him so hard it made Dean's leg scream in agony; something internal ripping that had no rightful business being ripped.

The blade clattered to the ground and Dean scrambled for it even as he crumpled downward. The vamp was sprawled where he'd landed some feet away but rather than charge to behead him, as Dean straightened some instinct made him turn away from him, made him spin around the instant the machete was in his hand and he slashed the blade through the air before he even knew what he was aiming for or why. A sudden jolt jarred through his arm as the sharp edge of the blade made contact with flesh, muscle, sinew, then bone, and it was the sheer force with which Dean had swung so wildly that made the machete pass right through a second vamps neck, halting it midstride and causing its body to topple to the floor.

In that time however the first bloodsucker had regained his bearings and Dean barely managed to face him before he'd tackled Dean to the ground, sending the machete clattering away from his grasp again. Pinned on his back, ramming his arms and legs up was all Dean could do to keep the bastard from chomping down on his face, and it took every ounce of strength he had to keep it that way, even as the weight of the vamp pressed down on him, crushing the air from his lungs.

His brain was screaming at him to do something, anything, because he wasn't ready. God damn it all to hell! He wasn't ready! Sammy still needed him! Sammy wasn't safe! It couldn't end like this. He couldn't leave it all like this. God please no! Not like this!

And then he remembered the vial of dead man's blood wedged between his left ankle and the worn leather of his boot, the one he kept for emergencies, privately calling it his cyanide capsule in case he got turned during a hunt and couldn't get to a cure in time, and the instant he remembered, his relief was outweighed by his anger and annoyance at having forgotten about it in the first place. Somewhere in the back of his conscience he knew he must be concussed for it to have slipped his mind so carelessly.

The vamp was snarling, the scent of blood from Dean's many wounds clearly enhancing the creature's predatory instincts. Dean didn't know how he was going to get his hand anywhere near his boot to retrieve the vial without allowing his face to become a vampire chew toy. And he definitely didn't want to think about whether or not the vial had even survived his fall through the building. All he knew was that it was the only option he had left, the only back up he ever had.

Grunting with the effort of it, ignoring the ripping sensation that continued to tear into his leg, he used the last ounce of his strength to try and push the vamp off from him, but he succeeded in only raising him a few inches, perhaps barely a foot or so away from himself. Not enough to reach his boot, not enough to find any other escape. Not enough for any other option, because he had nothing else.

And just as he thought he had no strength left to move, the vamp's head landed on Dean's chest, a spray of blood arcing through the air in its wake, the shocked look on the vamp's face frozen as the head tumbled forward, stalling there on Dean's chest for a second before it rolled off onto the floor.

For a moment Dean had no idea what had happened. The body was there, the head was not. Blood was streaming.

Then the body slumped, sagged, finally fell to the side, and through the dust and misty haze of blood, he saw Sam towering above him, machete gripped double handed, cheek smeared with blood, sweat covering his ashen face and, after a faltering second, one hand reaching down shakily towards Dean.

It took Dean a moment to recover from his shock, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, before he reacted, clasping Sam's hand and allowing himself to be pulled up to his feet.

"Didn't I tell you to get the hell out?" he said gruffly, unable in that moment to accommodate anything more sentimental despite the relief flooding through him and the overwhelming desire to pull his brother into a bear-hug.

"Didn't I tell you, you needed back-up?" Sam shot back. He was shivering, his breath was ragged, his face white, and his hand now clenched around Dean's elbow was squeezing tighter than a vice, but despite all that he managed to give Dean a look that landed somewhere between smug and glib.

"I didn't need back-up, I had it under control."

"Yeah, it looked like." Sam scoffed shakily before scanning the room. "I lost count. That the last of 'em? Please tell me that was the last of 'em."

"Think so. Let's get the hell out and torch this crap-hole."

Sam didn't argue. He didn't let go of Dean's elbow either. Dean was about to shake himself free of the grip before he realised that perhaps a little help manoeuvring his way out wouldn't go amiss, given how unresponsive his leg was becoming and how much his surroundings kept spinning now and then. Besides, it seemed as though Sam needed the physical contact as much as anything, so Dean let it be.

Purely for Sam's sake, obviously.

Outside, after they'd doused the place with enough gasoline to justify a foreign invasion, Sam retrieved a six pack from the back seat while Dean flicked a lit pack of matches onto the fuel trail, and they eased into a silence, leaning back against the Impala as they drank, watching the place slowly go up in flames. It seemed a fitting end to their hunting trip, and although Dean accepted it was over with a somewhat melancholy acknowledgment, he felt better than he had done in a long while. Not physically better, no on that score he hurt like a son of a bitch and even though it felt good in a twisted sort of way he'd still rather not have felt quite so much like crap. No, just… something else felt different. Something he was too tired to identify felt like it was shifting and settling somewhere inside. Or at least trying to.

His eyelids were almost fluttering shut when Sam spoke quietly, breaking the silence.

"Don't say yes to Michael."

Dean groaned, and sat next to him, Sam knew the sound hadn't been caused by any of Dean's physical injuries.

"Sam–"

"It's a suicide run. That's why you're gonna do it. It's a dumbass move, and you know it."

"Yeah, well maybe I'm just a dumbass."

"You're really not. You're not at all. Which is why it's a dumbass move."

"Sam…" Dean sighed wearily. "I really don't wanna argue any more man. I'm tired. I just wanna hit a shower, get this vamp juice off me, and catch some zees."

"You know, I've been trying to figure out a way to fix things," Sam continued, ignoring him. "With you, with us. Trying to figure out ways to make things better. I thought maybe forcing you to tell me what was wrong would help. Thought maybe it'd get us back to how we used to be."

"Oh? You mean back to when you hated our lives and were desperate to get away?"

"I mean back to when we were a team. When we were on the same side."

"Did a vamp knock your head back there while I wasn't looking? Coz you're not making any sense."

"I've been trying to help you Dean, trying to get you to trust me. But you know what I realised? I can't help you. I can't fix you. No one can"

"Finally! Thank you. Coz there's nothing to fix. Coz I'm fine."

"You're really not. But I can't help you, because you don't wanna be helped. You don't wanna be fixed. You don't care."

Dean snorted, shaking his head in both exasperation and denial.

"I know you wanna say yes to Michael," Sam continued. "And I can guess why too."

"Really?"

"After Hell," Sam said and despite his gentleness, he still felt Dean flinch at the mention of it. "I know you think you need to sacrifice your life, or that you don't deserve to be here."

"Well thank you Dr Phil, but you're way off base."

"Why then?"

"You know why. It's the only way. And besides, this is my mess. My fault, all of it. I started it, remember?"

"I don't think you did. If any of what Crowley told us is true, we were all being played since long before we even knew what was happening. Dad. You. Me. Even Jess, for god's sake. All of us."

"Yeah but none of you broke the first Seal. That was all me."

"That doesn't make you responsible. It just makes you manipulated. It's no reason to throw your life away."

"I'm not throwing–"

"I know you Dean. You might think Hell has changed you but I still know you. And throwing your life away is exactly what you're doing. You feel guilty even though you shouldn't, and you think letting yourself get killed, sacrificing yourself, will somehow make things right. You think it's the only worthwhile thing you can do, like it's the only thing you have left to offer. But you're wrong Dean. You're so wrong. You have so much more to live for. I just... I wish you could see it."

"Sam–"

"I saw you back there. With that vamp. And yeah, you're leagues ahead of where you were, leagues ahead of everyone. You're a better hunter than Dad was, or anyone is I'm guessing. You're faster, stronger, better, I get all that… But you're also careless."

"Careless?!" Dean shot, outright indignation unmasked and instinctive at the notion. "I'm careless? Why? Because I fell through the floor of a derelict building?!"

"I'm not talking about the floor Dean! I'm talking about you! You were ready to let that vamp sink its teeth into you and it's not coz it was better than you, it's coz you don't care about yourself. You don't care if you don't sleep. You don't care if you don't have friends. You don't care if you destroy your liver. And you sure as hell don't care if you live or die on a hunt. You're throwing your life away any chance you get like its worthless, and you don't seem to care!"

Dean shook his head, glad his brother couldn't see his face head on, because Dean wasn't sure he could mask his shame in that moment. Sam was right of course; Dean was desperate for an escape. So desperate that for a split second he'd almost let a vampire beat him. While that made Dean a coward in his own book, that knowledge wasn't a newfound revelation to him. Most days he could hide from the fact. But Sam seeing that, thinking that, knowing that about him, it made Dean feel ashamed and weak on a whole new level.

After a moment he became aware that Sam had dug out his phone and was skimming through the contents.

"Don't you dare try and do another spell," Dean muttered, too spent to growl.

"I'm not," Sam responded, still distracted with the phone. "Besides, it wasn't a real spell."

Dean blinked. "What?"

"I made it up."

The level of Dean's outrage was so intense it was about the only thing that could have broken through his extreme lethargy and pain right then.

"You made it up?!"

"All spells are made up Dean. And you really thought I'd ask Castiel to pluck himself?" He looked up long enough to give Dean a look before returning his attention to his phone. "I barely know the guy. It was a seagull feather."

"A sea…!? You sick lying scum sucking son of a–"

"You can shout at me later. I need to show you something."

Sam finally found what he'd been searching for; the document he and Jess had discussed before the hunt, and he thrust the phone towards his brother.

"I'll do more than shout," Dean muttered.

"Fine. You can shoot me. But read this first."

Begrudgingly, Dean squinted at the phone, hesitating a second before taking it to see the screen more clearly. All he could make out was a lot of neatly typed text, obviously a scanned document of some kind. He caught a few lines here and there as he skimmed but what really caught his attention was his own signature at the bottom.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded.

"It's a legally binding contract," Sam replied and Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Legally binding to what?"

"To the kids. To legal guardianship." Sam finally met his brother's eyes, and didn't waver as he continued. "If anything ever happens to either me or Jess, you're their next of kin. You're their legal guardian."

Dean's face went pale.

"I didn't sign that," he stammered after a pause. "I wouldn't have–"

"I did," Sam clarified, taking his phone back, giving Dean a slightly sheepish smile as he did so. "I forged your signature."

"You…? Why the Hell would you do a thing like that?"

Sam looked away briefly, shrugging. "It was after I found out I had cancer. Though to be fair, it'd always been on my to-do list. You being their guardian I mean, not the 'me forging your signature' part. Cancer just made it time sensitive, bumped it to the top of the urgent pile. I needed to get it sorted in case I kicked it before I got a chance to get back in touch with you. I was gonna tell you, I just didn't know if I'd get the chance," he shrugged again. "So I forged your sig."

Dean let that sink in. The reminder that Sam had been on the brink of death not only tempered his annoyance but made him feel sick. But the revelation that he would have inherited a family left him feeling somehow almost numb. If anything, absurdly, it left him feeling even more ashamed and appalled than before.

"But that was before," Dean responded finally, voice oddly flat. "Before you knew what I'd…"

But he didn't know how to finish the sentence. Before what? Before he went to Hell? Before he tortured people? Before Sam had known that he'd become a monster?

"You didn't know what I was back then, the things I'd done," he finished at last. "You didn't know I'd changed."

"You haven't changed," Sam responded, shaking his head. "Not in the way you think."

"Well you can't just leave it like that." Dean spluttered, incredulous at the notion and not wanting to debate the point. "You have to change it. You have to get someone else."

"No. I don't."

"You don't know what you're asking Sam. And I bet Jessica doesn't either. Besides, doesn't she have brothers?"

"Her brothers are dicks," Sam snorted. "No way we'd trust the kids with them."

"Well you sure as hell shouldn't trust them with me!"

"'Cept I do. We both do. Especially after everything that's happened, Jess and I talked about it again, and she's more sure now than ever."

Dean swallowed, fear prickling the back of his neck. "You didn't tell her, did you? About…"

"Hell? Of course not. But she knows about our lives now, about what's out there. And she knows I trust you with my life, with all our lives. That's good enough for her."

"But you shouldn't trust me Sam. You really shouldn't. The things I've done," Dean shook his head, unable to say more about it, knowing Sam already knew more that Dean had ever wanted anyone to know. "I'm not who you think I am. I'm not someone you want around your family."

"Why? Because of what happened in Hell? Because of what you did?" Dean flinched again but Sam pressed on. "It was Hell Dean. You were manipulated and coerced and tortured in ways I can't even imagine. And yet you've still come out the other side wanting to save the world, wanting to make things better, for everyone except yourself. That's not what monsters do. That's what you do. That's what you've always done, since the night mom died and everything changed. Despite all the crap you had to deal with since then, you kept looking out for everyone. That's what makes you the best person I'll ever know."

"Sam–"

"And you haven't changed coz you're still doing it! You're still trying to protect everyone. This whole act you've got going on, being a jerk 24/7, I know what you're doing. Trying to push people away, but it won't work on me. It won't ever, so just give it up."

"I'm a jerk? You're a jerk." Dean muttered. "Bitch."

"And I know, I know, a handful of hunts doesn't make up for all the years I've been gone," Sam continued, as though Dean hadn't spoken. "But I still know you Dean, better than anyone. And I know you haven't changed. Even after everything you've been through, you're still trying to save everyone. It's the best part of the brother I remember, the brother I've always looked up to, and relied on and loved. And that hasn't changed. Not even Hell could change that about you. Do you get that Dean? Do you get that? Not even Hell. That's how awesome you are."

Dean turned his head away embarrassed, feeling the weight and sincerity of his brother's words but not sure he could allow himself to believe them, not sure he was ready for them to sink in and be accepted.

"Besides," Sam continued, voice softening even more. "You're my big brother. Who else am I gonna trust? Who else could there ever possibly be but you Dean?"

"This is stupid," Dean managed at last. "That document is stupid. You're not gonna die."

"I'm gonna try not to, but," he sighed. "With the deal broken, who knows? Maybe things have gone back to the way they were before. For all I know I may be sick again already."

Dean turned to him then, face becoming pale, and Sam raised a hand to appease him.

"I feel fine," he reassured. "But I'm just saying, who knows what's gonna happen. I mean if the deal's been undone, then stands to reason my blood's turned bad again."

"Cas'll fix you." Dean said firmly, for the first time looking more alive and awake than he had since they'd begun the conversation. "Whatever's wrong, if anything's wrong, he can fix it. Hell, he probably already has, but if he hasn't, we'll sort it."

"I appreciate that." Sam acknowledged, then leaned back a little, assessing Dean, seeing in that moment Dean's pure and instinctive determination to protect and save Sam. "And that's how I want you to fight for yourself. That's how I need you to fight for yourself. I don't plan on dying Dean, but I need you to be on the same page with me. I need you to stick around. And I don't just mean through this. I mean the long haul. I need you to see the kids grow up, to be there in case something happens to either Jess or me. And damn it! You and I have just got back to being brothers again! I can't have you throw it all away now. But saying yes to Michael, that's exactly what you're doing. And I know you've been through a lot. And I know you're tired. And I know I have no right to ask anything more of you than you've already done but… I need you Dean. We need you. All of us. We need you to stick around. And I need you to want to. So please Dean, please, don't give up. Don't say yes to Michael."

Dean shook his head, resigned to the fact that Sam would never let it go.

"What other option is there Sam? Lucifer getting free is seeming more and more inevitable, so tell me, what the hell are we supposed to do?"

"We could see what that Jake Talley guy is up to," Sam replied softly.

"What? Why the hell would we… Wait. You think because Crowley said Jake was going up against Lilith, he's somehow one of the good guys? He's shacked up with a demon bitch for a girlfriend, I don't think whatever he's up to is anything verging on 'good'."

Sam nodded in acknowledgement, steeling himself against what he was about to say next.

"Except Lilith is worried about him."

"Oh? And you know this how?"

"Because she asked me to kill him for her."

"She asked you? When exactly did she do that?"

"A few nights ago," Sam confessed, meeting his brothers gaze. "I had a dream. She's possessing a little girl now, but it was definitely her. She said if I, if we, kill Jake for her, she'll return Kyle."

Dean stared at him appalled. "Guess it just slipped your mind to tell me, huh?"

"It was just a few nights ago. Right before we went after that Rawhead," Sam replied defensively. "Excuse me for not having my head on straight in the middle of all these hunts. Besides, I'm telling you now."

Dean shook his head, looking away, before speaking again. "And you believe her?"

"No, course not… I mean… I don't know. But if she's so concerned about this Jake guy, if he's such a threat, maybe he can help us defeat her. Especially if he's trying to do that already."

"Yeah except he might not even be human anymore. You didn't see what he left behind at Cold Oak. It was a massacre."

"OK fair enough but–"

"And why in the hell does he want Lilith dead? What's in it for him? Does he wanna take over? Or are they both just playing you? C'mon man, you can't trust anything these sons of bitches say. Hell! You can't even trust humans most of the time, let alone non-human bastards."

"And yet you're willing to trust Michael."

"He's an angel."

"And angels are dicks, according to you. So tell me, why are you so keen on betting on him, huh?"

Dean closed his eyes, ignoring Sam's question and instead letting the newfound revelation of Lilith's communication with Sam sink in. Whenever he thought he hit rock bottom, something else came along and introduced him to a whole new level of 'I-can't-do-this-anymore'.

"Dean?"

"Coz I don't know what else to do!" Dean snapped, meeting his brother's gaze defiantly, anger flashing like lightening, before it died just as quickly. "I don't know what else to do," he repeated wearily, shaking his head in defeat, all masks and façades finally shed away to reveal only his complete and utter disillusionment. "This whole mess, Sammy. I've been trying, Seal after Seal, to keep a handle on it. To keep you as far away from it as I could. But it just keeps slipping away from me. And we're down to the last Seals. And Kyle's still missing. And Lilith has her hooks in you man, talking to you in your dreams! And now she wants you to kill someone? And you don't even… It's like she's some Emperor Palpatine wannabe, pulling you into the dark side, trying to turn you and… I can't stop it. I can't stop any of it!"

"She's not gonna turn me Dean. Why in the hell would you think that?"

"Because that's what they do! You said it yourself. They coerce and manipulate and twist till there's nothing left."

"No, what I said was they couldn't. They didn't. They tried but it didn't work with you, remember? That's the whole point. You're not a monster Dean."

But Dean shook his head, clearly not willing to continue with the discussion. "Michael is my only shot to end this."

"Even if it destroys you? And half the planet while he's at it?"

"You don't know that."

"It's the Apocalypse Dean. Pretty much goes without saying. It's gonna be a bloodbath and you know it."

"There's no other option."

"There has to be."

"Well there isn't! Lucifer's an Archangel Sam. An Archangel. With a horde of demons and God only knows how many angels behind him. How the Hell am I supposed to fight that without something on my side? I need Michael, whether I like it or not, coz without him, I got nothing."

"You've got me! And you've got yourself. Besides, if Michael's so powerful why doesn't he take Lilith out himself? If he cares so much about humans, where the hell was he when Kyle was taken? When Jess was beaten up? Hell! Other than Cas, why hasn't Michael sent an army of his angel buddies down here to help us get my son back? He's not even here trying to help you Dean, and you're meant to be his vessel! If he doesn't even give a crap about you, why the hell would he care about anyone else? Why the hell would he try to save any human on the planet? Far as I can tell, we're nothing to him. So why the hell do you trust him?"

"I don't!" Dean snapped instinctively, then sighed. "I don't. But I don't know how else to stop this. I can't do it alone."

"You're not alone! You've got everyone at the Roadhouse. And you've got me." Sam repeated. "We'll work together. We'll figure it out. Just like Dad taught us."

"Dad never taught us how to go up against archangels." Dean pointed out.

"So forget about Michael. Forget about Lucifer. He's not even out yet, so we'll figure that out if it comes to it. For now, let's continue to focus on Lilith. We can get Kyle back and still stop all of this if we kill her before she breaks the final Seal. So let's take the bitch down before she can."

"You think I haven't tried?"

"I think you haven't had me with you. But I'm with you now Dean. I am. And this Jake guy, let's see where that leads. And no matter what Lilith said, I know they still want me, so let's use that. We've got more to go on that you think. It's not over."

Dean shook his head, but it was more to signify his weariness than a refusal.

"Maybe it's like Crowley said," Sam continued. "I'm meant to be Lucifer's vessel. I mean if I were meant to be one of the special children, it makes sense. Hell, even Cas said it would've made sense."

"But you weren't one of them."

"Because something went wrong. Which means things can go wrong for them. And Lilith still wants me, no matter what she said, if not for that, then still for something. So, let's use that against her. Let's get her where we want her, let's find her weakness. She's gotta have one. There's gotta be something in the books about her, something in the lore–"

"There's nothing. We've checked."

"Then we'll check again! And again. And if we don't find anything then we'll… Hell I don't know. We'll get new books! Find somewhere else to look! We'll figure something out… If we track Jake down, maybe he is on our side, maybe he can help. I mean if he's turned on Lilith, if he's going up against her, he's gotta have something that can take her out. Right? Right?"

Dean sighed, feeling the intensity of Sam's stare.

"Maybe," he conceded, and Sam released a breath.

"Right! Something. And we don't have to trust him, we just need to find out, we just need to use him. Just… Just don't give up Dean. You can't give up."

"I'm not giving–"

"If you say yet to Michael it's the same thing. Coz if you say yes to him, I don't think you're ever coming back."

"You don't know that."

"Neither do you, but I know it's what you're hoping."

"If Michael can defeat Lucifer–"

"Fine! You defeat Lucifer, you save the world. Then what?"

"What d'you mean?"

"You say yes to Michael and half the planet gets destroyed but he wins and then what? What happens to you?"

Dean didn't respond and Sam shook his head angrily.

"That's my point! You don't know and you don't care! Why the hell don't you care?!"

"If it's what needs to happen–"

"You should care Dean! You should care! Open you God dammed eyes! Take a look at what you have!"

"Sam, I know you're on my side, I get that–"

"Not just me Dean, all of us! We all care about you!"

"I never asked you to."

"Right, yeah. Solid argument."

"Look Sam, I get it. We're in a better place than we have been for years, so you think it's gonna be harder for you if something happens to me, especially now Dad's gone, but–"

"Oh you know what?! Screw you Dean! It's not just me anymore and you have to deal with that whether you like it or not."

"What're you talking about?"

"How long did it take you to get over mom?"

"What?"

"How long? Or how about this: when she died, how did it feel? How did you feel?"

"Whatever you think you're trying to do," Dean growled. "I think you'd better shut your pie-hole before I shut it for you."

"Coz whatever you felt, that's what Deanna's gonna feel. And it's gonna be your fault. So just give me a ballpark figure here Dean, help me out. When will she get over it? Huh? How many years will it take?"

"That's a load of crap! It's nothing like what happened with mom."

"She loves you Dean! Whether you want it or not, she does. We all do. And if you don't see it, it's coz your head's stuck so far up your own ass you don't see how many people you're gonna end up hurting if you get yourself killed. God! You're so damned focused on all the reasons to die for, you can't see all the reasons not to."

"Really Sam? Head up my ass? Years of law school and that's your closing?"

"You look me in the eye and tell me Deanna doesn't love you. Go ahead, do it. Say it. If you're so sure of it, convince me."

"This is a load of crap," Dean repeated, shaking his head and looking away.

"Or maybe you don't you wanna see Deanna grow up. Is that it? Don't you wanna see 'em all grow up? Don't you wanna take them fishing, and teach them how to change a tyre or build a snowman or spend Christmas with them? Even just one? How can you throw that all away? Don't you wanna be around for any of it? Don't they mean anything to you? … Or don't you care about anything anymore? Don't you care about them at all?"

That hit home hard, causing Dean to look up, genuinely hurt. "Of course I do," he whispered.

"Well then start acting like it!" Sam snapped. "Start giving a crap about yourself Dean. Start holding on to the things that matter. Coz that's the only way we win this. Not with Michael. With each other. With family. Isn't that what you've always stood up for? So don't give up on it now."

Dean stared at his hands, not responding and Sam left him to it, for his own part feeling winded and worn. His anger and frustration were still churning within him, but after a moment he sensed something shift between them.

"You make it sound so simple." Dean muttered at last, and somehow Sam knew, right then, along with everything else, that he'd finally broken through.

"Because it is simple," he replied. "I believe in you Dean. And not coz you're Michael's vessel, but coz it's you. Because it's us. I've always believed in that, even when I left, I still believed in that. And you should too. You have to, coz…"

Dean was still staring at his hands, but at Sam's hesitation, his eyes flicked up to meet Sam's.

"Coz what?" Dean prompted.

Sam wavered a fraction more before deciding to continue.

"Coz you're my big brother and it's your damn job." Sam stated finally, jutting his jaw out defiantly, the gesture making him suddenly look like the stubborn ass teenager Dean remembered so very fondly.

Dean looked away, partly to hide his smile, partly to blink away the sudden and inexcusable threat of tears, as if he'd been slapped in the face and put in his place.

"Guess college paid off eventually huh?" Dean questioned after the moment had passed, and Sam snorted.

"Had to some time. Besides," he bumped his brother gently with his shoulder. "If you do something stupid and end up dead, I'm just gonna end up doing something equally stupid to get you back."

Dean looked genuinely horrified because he knew Sam wasn't entirely joking.

"That would be a dumbass move," Dean responded after a beat.

Sam shrugged. "I am a Winchester… But I'm serious Dean. You can't leave me. You just... you can't. We deserve more than this."

"You might," Dean scoffed humourlessly.

"We both do," Sam corrected. "And my kids do. They deserve to have their uncle in their lives. In their whole lives, for everything they'll ever go through. I know I've got years' worth of teenage angst and arguments and head butting and God knows what else headed my way, and it's gonna be here before I even know it. I'm not naïve enough to believe they'll always open up to me and Jess or talk to us or tell us everything they're going through. And that's when they're gonna need their uncle. Someone else they can turn to, someone they can confide in. That one other person who's always gonna be there for them, no matter what. I need that from you Dean, as much as they do."

"OK, OK, you've made your case Matlock." Dean groused. "I get it."

"But I mean it. I almost lost you once already, I won't do it again."

"Don't be such a drama queen, you didn't lose me. I came back."

"I don't mean from Hell. I meant before that. And when I thought I was gonna die."

"I'm sorry," Dean said quietly, instantly abashed, not knowing why he felt ashamed again, and Sam huffed a laugh.

"What the hell are you sorry for? You weren't the one who screwed it all up. That was all me."

"What do you mean?"

"When I left you and Dad, the way I left things. I swear I never meant for you and me to drift apart. I didn't think at all, I just… I don't know what happened. I kept meaning to call but… Time just kept, slipping away. A month, a year. Two years. I don't know. I don't know where it all went. Or I guess maybe I kept putting it off. I always meant to call, I just… I never did."

"It's… It's OK Sammy. We're both to blame a little I guess."

"I missed you Dean. Every day, I…" he shrugged, blinking away tears. "I just really missed you man. And I thought about calling you, I did. I just… I just never knew where to start. The longer I left it, I… And when I thought I was gonna die, I just… I should have made an effort Dean, way before then. Even then. It just… I didn't know how. And then, after Dad's funeral, I thought you hated me. I thought you knew what he'd done for me and…"

"I'm sorry." Dean said again, this time knowing exactly what he was offering the apology up for, remembering his behaviour that night and thereafter, acknowledging both the blame and the shame.

"I'm the one who's sorry Dean. For everything. And I'm sorry for whatever I'll do to get you back if you do something stupid, coz I will do almost anything, and it'll be on you if I do."

Dean stared at him "So you're blaming me for things neither of us have even done yet?"

Sam fought a grin. "Yeah. Face it, we're safer together than we are apart."

"'Cept we have separate lives. I mean, if we get through this, it's not like you're gonna come back to hunting."

"No," Sam conceded. "No, I'm not."

"Right. And I'm not ready to give it up. So..." Dean shrugged.

"Just coz I don't follow you around on every hunt, won't mean I can't still do research. And just coz you don't give it up, doesn't mean you can't have a life outside of it. Doesn't mean you can't spend time with me, with us, in between hunts."

"And winner of stupidest idea ever goes to."

"Is it, though? A stupid idea?"

"Look I appreciate the picture you're trying to paint, I do, believe me. But I wouldn't bring this life anywhere near you, or Jess and the kids."

"You tried that. We both did. Remind me again how well that worked out for us? For any of us? Hell! I ran from the life. You and Dad did everything and then some to keep me safe from it, and all this crap still happened anyway. So, I'm done running from it. I'm done ignoring it. I accept it."

Dean shook his head, not following his brother's logic. "You accept what, exactly?"

"Hunting. I accept it. I accept that you're a hunter. I accept that after this is all over, I might not be. I also accept that whether I am or not, I can't protect my family through sheer ignorance. I accept that we live in a world where that crap could happen to anyone, including the people that I love. And I accept that we can be in each other's lives and it doesn't make it any more or less likely for that crap to happen. In fact, it's probably safer for both of us if we stick closer together, no matter what path we take."

Dean sat in silence for a moment, thinking about what his brother had said. He wasn't sure he quite agreed, but he couldn't deny, it was tempting to believe.

"Imagine it Dean," Sam continued. "You swing by after a hunt sometimes. You come over for the holidays. You scare the crap outta any boy Deanna ever brings home. Poke him with a silver blade and check his gums for fangs."

Dean actually huffed a laugh at that. "You're gonna let her date?"

"Probably not," Sam smiled. "But think about it. About all of it. And who knows? Maybe someday you will wanna give it up. Maybe you will settle down. But either way, you'll always have us in your life. How does what Michael offer you trump any of that?"

"It doesn't," Dean conceded. "But part of the reason I'd even think about saying yes to him is so that you'd all be safe."

"I know Dean. But don't you at least owe it to yourself, to all of us, to try to find another way? And I know you've all tried, but maybe there's still something out there. Even if there's just a small chance, don't you wanna take it? Just let me… Just give me some time to figure out another way Dean. Please."

Dean sat quietly for a long time before finally sighing.

"Okay Sammy," he said at last, relenting. "Okay. But if we can't come up with anything–"

"I know. I know. But… just let me try, all right? Let me try."

Dean nodded. "All right."

The air felt clearer than it had done in a long while, and even though they knew they needed to head back it felt like they were caught in a small window of reprieve which neither was quite ready yet to leave. Sam opened the last couple of beers for them.

"I had a plan, you know." Dean said, startling Sam.

"What?" Sam asked, not sure what Dean was referring to.

"With that last vamp, when I said I had it under control. I had a plan."

"Really?" Sam asked, not quite able to keep the cynicism from his voice.

"Really."

Sam waited, then raised his eyebrows. "Which was?"

With a lot of effort Dean bent over to loosen his boot, while Sam watched him dubiously.

"You're right." Sam remarked, sceptically. "That stench would kill everything and the dead. Solid plan."

"I was reaching for this," Dean retorted, pulling out a broken vial with a flourish and holding it up triumphantly between them.

Sam stared at the sad, empty tube, looking if anything, even less impressed.

"So… You were gonna repel it with broken high school chem-lab equipment?"

"Dead man's blood, smart ass." Dean snapped, though even he had to admit, it looked patently pathetic. "I think there's still some in there," he muttered, turning the vial round to catch the light. As he did so a sharp edge sliced into his finger and he let go of the phial with a start. "Son of a bitch!"

The tube fell to the ground, shattering completely and as Dean sucked at his finger, he swayed a little even though he was still sat on the Impala, the head rush from having straightened up so quickly finally taking effect.

"Woah," he said, placing a hand on the hood to steady himself. "In the spirit of starting to give a damn about myself, I think I need to lie down."

That was signal enough for Sam to know their time was up.

"I'm driving," he said, taking the keys from Dean's pocket as he guided his brother into the passenger side. For once Dean didn't argue as the pair drove away.

When they reached the Roadhouse, and Sam turned off the engine, ready to climb out, Dean stalled. Sam thought initially that his brother had passed out, but when he looked, he saw that Dean was still awake, staring out ahead, deep in thought. So Sam waited.

"You did good Sammy," Dean said eventually, then elaborated at Sam's look of confusion. "On the hunt. On all of 'em. I mean I'm not gonna say it was all awesome, coz you still get gas, and my god stay away from the truck stop burritos when we're driving man, but… Still… You're not as rusty as I thought. Might even be the second-best hunter around. So… it didn't completely suck ass to have you with me."

From anyone else, it would have been patronising. But coming from Dean, Sam felt he was a kid again, receiving praise and approval from the one person who mattered most to him in the world. Absurdly, it wasn't his own actions on those hunts that finally bolstered his confidence; it was Dean's endorsement. He was glad the interior of the Impala was too dark in that moment to reveal the look on his face or the sudden mistiness in his eyes; he'd never have lived that down.

"And," Dean continued, completely sincere and squirming because of it. "I guess you saved my life back there, so… Yeah. That… Whatever."

Sam wasn't sure whether Dean meant the vampire decapitation, or the pep talk on the hood, or something else entirely, but whatever it was, he supposed it ultimately didn't matter. As long as Dean was starting to have faith, starting to have hope, starting to be glad about being alive, it meant they finally had a real chance of pulling through.

It meant they were finally back to being how they should have always been; fighting the big fight, side by side, as brothers.

tbc - Thank you all for reading.

AN: Thank you LLBRUCAS, Kathy & Shazza19 :-) And Kathy! You made me laugh! Hearing (reading) you use the b-word was more shocking than hearing Dean (I mean Jensen) using the f-word in The Boys! heehee you made me smile, thank you :-D And LLBRUCAS, you're always so on point with all your observations, I'll have to be crafty to make sure you don't guess too much of where this is headed! Shazza, love your recaps, they are always so reassuring and actually really help me a lot! Thank you! :-)

Till next time, Best to you all!