Author's Note: Here's the epilogue...thank you everybody for reading and reviewing! Everyone who reviews this last chapter WILL be thanked personally. As we all know by now I don't own Dean or Sam. If I did, I wouldn't be bothering writing this right now. Some adult content near the end, but just so you know, the two people at the very end did NOT, I repeat, did NOT make love even if it seems that way.

Very slowly, Sam Winchester opened his eyes.

He was tempted to sink back into the pillows, but then like a shock his memory returned. The whole ordeal left him groggy. It felt like a dream, Sam decided. Which it was.

His shirt felt damp. Climbing out of the motel bed, he ripped it off. Dean Winchester was already up and sitting at a worn desk, a plate of cold pancakes slathered in syrup sitting in front of him.

"Sleeping Beauty has woken up!" Dean announced. That's when Sam noticed the tall, empty cup resting on his night table. His eyes darted back and forth from the shirt to his cup. Dean started to laugh, so Sam flung the shirt at Dean. The shirt landed in the syrup, which just made Dean laugh even harder.

"Fuck off," Sam muttered. "I'm going to take a shower."

"That's how you face your rescue-er?" Dean asked, but Sam had already shut the door and turned the burning hot water on.

Dean would never, ever, ever, tell Sam how glad he was that Sam made it out alive.

For a while back there, he thought it was all over. That Sam was going to stay in this death like sleep forever. Glancing at his brother, he had to suppress a sigh of relief. Sammy's awake; Sammy's alive.

"Can we go now?" Sam asked it had taken them two hours--two hours!--to get their asses moving. But now, all the bags were packed, all the meals eaten, everything. Except one tiny little detail Dean had forgotten to tell Sam about.

"Soon," Dean promised. "We need to stop somewhere first. The hospital." Sam eyed him strangely as Dean lugged a bag of weapons to the car and dropped them in the trunk. With a half shrug, Sam loaded the rest of their junk and sat in passenger seat.

The hospital was fairly close by. Within a half hour they had pulled into the crowded parking lot.

"Dean, you hate hospitals. Why the hell are we here?" Sam asked. Dean told him the truth. There was someone here Dean had to see. A few moments later, the brothers were directed to Kevin's room, where the man lay sleeping.

"Uh, hi," Dean said awkwardly. Josie wasn't in the room, to his disappointment. (Not that that was the reason he came) Only her mom sat in the chair next to him. She looked up, her eyes glistening with tears. "Oh god. He's not dead is he?"

The wife, Sarah, shook her head. A smile blossomed on his lips. "He woke from his coma about three hours ago," she breathed. About the time they woke up.

"I'm glad to hear that," Dean confessed. "Give him this note when he wakes up, okay?" Sarah nodded, told Dean how nice it was to see him, how nice it was for him to come, and gave him a small hug.

"That was the waitress's dad?" Sam questioned as they quietly shut the door. Dean nodded. "So what was in the note?" Dean didn't answer, he just walked ahead. The note had been somewhat easy to write. It didn't sound like Dean. It was almost like a form letter. A thank you note you send to a grandparent. A quick thank you, an apology.

Kevin-

Everything's okay. Sam's awake, and the thing that made him sleep is dead. I can't thank you enough for all your help, and am sincerely sorry about what I put you and your family through. Hope you get better quick. And if you hear from my dad, please call me. He's missing.

Dean Winchester

Dean had let Sam drive from the hospital. If he had a reason, he didn't tell Sam.

"Hey Sam. You did good back there," Dean said awkwardly, referring to the final face off. Sam's "Uh, thanks" was just as awkward. Everything seemed awkward that day, mainly the silence that seemed to drift through the car as Sam drove.

"I meant to ask you. When we were in the-the dream, did you ever, try to talk to me? I mean, send me a message through your mind or something?" Sam asked. Dean stared at him for a while.

"I didn't Sam. I was going to ask you the same question," Dean replied. So who had contacted Sam and Dean? It wasn't the Catcher, that was for sure.

"I should have known," Dean added. "That was a girl's voice." Suddenly a shiver crept down Sam's back. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

"You know who that sounded like?"

"No, who?" There was a long silence as Sam stared ahead. "Sam, who'd it sound like?"

"It sounded like Jessica."

That night Sam dreamt again.

Dean had just dropped him back off in his apartment. Cookies sat on the table. Smiling, Sam took one. There was an eerie silence as he opened the door--Jess was no where to be seen. He lay down on the bed, content. Then he felt something warm press onto his forehead...

He opened his eyes. It was a hand. A warm hand, full of life and love. "Wake up, Sam," whispered a familiar voice. Sam sat up. And there was Jessica, sitting on his bed. He reached out and pulled her to him, kissing her and embracing her. She's alive, she's alive, she's alive.

"I'm so sorry," Sam muttered, staring into her huge eyes. She put a slender finger to his lips.

"I'll always be here for you. I promise," she responded. Sam smiled once more and drew her into him. She fell on top of him. They melted together. They were one person.

But then she pulled away. Someone was calling. "Wake up, Sam. Wake up." Dean. His older brother, his amazing older brother.

"I don't want to wake up," he whispered. He tried to kiss her but she refused. Instead, Jess took Sam's hand.

"You have to wake up now. I promise I'll come again." And with that she faded away, the whole dreaming was fading away to morning.

Sam had once told somebody that when Jess came into his dreams, he would know. He would know that it was really her and not some hissing, bloody, girl that happened to have Jess's golden locks. And you know what?

Sam knew.

The end