Well, Thanks again for all the reviews!

Sam was glad he'd been the one with the key. He had a sneaking suspicion that his brother's evil half was looking for him, and would probably find him eventually. He need quick access to the room. He shoved the key into the slot and opened the door.

He took a step into the room and stopped dead. His father was standing by the dresser with a look of sick shock on his face. A Styrofoam container sat next to his hand, indicating that Dean had made it back to the room. A gun was lying on the dresser beside the take-out.

"Dad," Sam began, taking a step forward and letting the door swing shut behind him, "what happened?" The look on his father's face, coupled with the location of the weapon, worried him. He had a right to be worried, though, considering the disturbing vision he'd had back at Marcy's house. "Where's Dean?"

Although the older man's expression didn't change, there was a sadness in his voice that Sam couldn't remember ever hearing before. It scared him. "Behind you, Sammy, he's behind you."

Sam whirled around, staring at the wall for signs of blood. When he didn't see any, he lowered his gaze. What he saw simultaneously tugged at his heartstrings and made him want to run to the bathroom and vomit.

Dean sat crumpled on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and crying silently. There was a blank look in his eyes, which searched the room desperately before finally locking on Sam. The hazy quality faded, revealing the haunted hazels Sam had become accustomed to.

"Sam?" the older man asked, shaking his head slightly, "he said you were dead. He told me I killed you."

Sammy turned to glare at his father. "He did, huh? Well, I'm fine. I got away. Before I left, though, he told me something. I guess he thought I wouldn't be able to escape."

"He told you how to get them back together?" John asked, keeping his eyes trained on his youngest son as Dean slowly stood up.

"No," Sam shook his head, "but he found out how to make himself 'whole.'"

"Wouldn't that be putting them back together?"

"Not the way he described it," Sam explained, "he found out why both of them get hurt at the same time. They're still physically connected."

"But not mentally?" Dean asked quietly, taking a step toward his brother, "we're not mentally connected?"

"I don't think so. Why, you want to try and telepathically communicate with him or something?" When no one answered, Sam went on. "The guy's done his homework. He said a drop of Dean's blood spilled into one of his own wounds would make him whole again." He turned to his brother. "He could kill you without killing himself."

"Then he'd be left to do whatever he wanted. We can't let him do that," John said, "there's got to be a way to stop him."

"There is," Dean reasoned, "kill him. Kill him before he can kill me. That's the only way, unless you know how to put me back together."

"You'll die, too," Sam pointed out.

"Not if I make myself 'whole' again."

"Turn his own plan against him."

Dean nodded. "Any ideas on how to do that?"

"No!" John roared as the door to the room closed, "I won't allow it."

"Keep it down," Sammy cautioned, "he'll hear you." He'd sent Dean outside to raid the trunk in the hopes that he could find out exactly what had happened while he'd been gone. Unfortunately, the conversation had been sidetracked.

"He can't do it, Sam. Tell him he can't do it."

"Why don't you tell him yourself?"

"I have my reasons," John muttered, glancing out the window at the car, "just tell him no. He can't stay like this."

"Why not?" Sam asked, "he seems fine to me. He's sleeping better, he's being honest with me and himself for once in his life, and that guilty conscience of his is pretty much gone. He deserves to be happy, dad."

John sighed. "I told you already, Sammy, he won't be happy. He can't be. He's useless to us as a hunter now."

"But not as family, dad. Not as a person. He's still Dean."

"Face it, son. His usefulness has ended."

"I had to cut her loose," Dean's evil half had said after his seventh kill in Onyx, "her usefulness had ended." Was that what his father was planning for Dean? A literal blow to the heart?

"He's my brother," Sam growled, "and your son. Show a little compassion for once in your life."

The door opened and Dean walked in with the green duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "There's still some stuff in the trunk," he mumbled, throwing the bag on a bed, "I wasn't sure we'd need it."

"I'll grab it," John said gruffly, pushing past his oldest son and heading out into the parking lot, "just in case."

Dean watched his father disappear into the parking lot. "He's mad at me," he sighed, "again."

"Any idea why?" Sam ventured, looking through the duffel bag to see what all was inside.

"I let him take you. I wasn't paying close enough attention."

"I went to the bathroom, man," Sammy pointed out, "what were you supposed to do, follow me in?"

Dean shrugged. "He yelled at me. Slammed me up against the wall. If you hadn't walked in when you did, man… I don't know…"

Sam sighed, zipping up the bag and turning to face his brother. "If this works out," he began suddenly desperate to change the subject, "what're you gonna do? Without your, um, edge?"

"Well, I figure I'm no good as a hunter anymore, so I might just settle down. Once we get rid of this freak once and for all I'm thinking about heading out to Missouri. If I can't be a hunter, I might as well try to be a husband."

"Cassie?" Sam asked, staring at the older man.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Cassie. Who knows, maybe she'll like the new me. Think about it. We could get married, settle down, have kids. You know, I've always wanted kids. And you could go back to Stanford without having to feel guilty about leaving me all alone."

Sammy stared at him. Guilty? He'd never thought about it until now, but he hadn't felt any guilt over leaving his family. He hadn't thought about them for two years. Dean had certainly been the farthest thing from his mind, and realizing that hurt. He had abandoned the man that had raised him and felt no remorse, though his brother had obviously been broken up about it.

"Sounds good," Sam muttered as their father reentered the room, "it's a great plan, man. I hope it makes you happy."