A/N

I swear to you all that I tried writing. I'm trying, I honestly am. I'm sorry for the shortness, and the horribleness. But bare with me, I think you'll find that the shorter is better, because it brings us closer to the end seeing as there is only one chapter left. I tried, I failed, and we move on. It's part of life, so we recognize it and keep moving.

Chapter Seven

"Excuse me?" Sam replied, he had gone back to looking to the computer screen, vaguely paying attention to Dean's figure. "Dean, you didn't win a fucking lottery."

"Oh but I did," Dean responded with a smirk on his face. His favorite part of the hunt was always the end. It was generally the most exciting, and most rewarding part. "Look at the ages of the kids. How old was Jamesy boy?"

"James Hilf was," Sam paused as he started typing again. "James was sixteen years old. He died three weeks ago."

"And Waltz died two weeks ago right?"

"Correct," Sam confirmed.

"Where's James buried? Let's salt and burn those bones and get the hell out of here." When Sam didn't reply right away, Dean kept talking. "New rule- we never stay in the same place for more than a week tops. I'm sick of Grandma and Grandpa; they move to slow, so I can see why you like it here. But I'm living on the fast track buddy, and we need to keep moving-"

"It says Hilf did not receive a funeral, Mrs. Hilf refused to talk to any outsiders, and apparently she buried him in her back yard herself."

"Great, we have to go back to that dump," Dean said as he picked up his coat and made his way out the door. "Pick up the pace Gramps."

………………

It had been tricky, moving around the dump of a backyard trying to find the grave. Dean didn't even try to be stealthy this time; he marched right through the shit that lay around. Sam tried to keep it quiet, there was nothing about Mrs. Hilf that said come again, and Sam didn't want to test her. They tried to be quick. Dean found the grave first. It was pretty sad for a grave- a cardboard strip hung up as the tombstone. Dean moved in closer to read what it said. James W. Hilf 1990-2006 'Strive because you can, not because they make you'. It was written in sharpie, and for a second Dean felt remorse towards the poor kid and the step mother. But it left as soon as it came, as Dean scanned the grave over again. The grave was towards the back by a tree. There were rocks outlining where the coffin would lay five feet under.

Sam made his way standing next to Dean. As he looked over his shoulder back towards the house, Dean started digging. It was a long dig even though there were two of them. Neither boy had expected it to take so long, but it did. Sam glanced worriedly towards the house just waiting to Mrs. Hilf to come bursting out, but she never did. And Dean smirked as he watched Sam freak out about the situation. Soon Dean hit something hard.

"Aww man I hate this," Dean said as he turned his head slightly.

"What?" Sam asked casually.

"No coffin, that means we have to find all the bones first."

"Fuck, alright you keep digging and hand me the bones when you find them."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to assemble them." And that's what they did. Dean set to finding the bones and handing them to Sam, while Sam put all the bones together making sure they had every last one. It took a while, but when it was all done they were grateful. Dean salted and burned the bones quickly and they were off. Once they were settled in the impala again and driving away from the Hilf property the silence was finally broken. Dean glanced at Sam before he turned back to the road, guiding the car smoothly along the turns.

"We came, we conquered, and now we move on."