One chapter left, guys!
"What the Hell do you think you're doing?" Sam yelled as Dean finally left his body, giving him back full control over his actions.

The elder brother laughed. "Oh, come on, Sammy. You knew I wasn't gonna make you do anything stupid. Why'd you have to fight me like that?"

"There's just something creepy about being possessed by your brother," Sam replied, feeling slightly violated, "you have a sick mind, I hope you know that."

"Oh, someone didn't like what he heard while he could see into big brother's head?"

"I don't get you. You try to kill yourself, you follow me across the country to get me to come back here with you, then you refuse to come back to life?"

"Technically, I'm not dead yet."

"Yet, Dean. You're not dead yet. What's gonna happen when dad finishes that spell and you don't wake up? Huh? You think he's just gonna live with that? He'll pull the plug on you."

"No he won't."

"If he doesn't, I will. You like being a ghost so much, you might as well get the whole experience, funeral and all. Don't expect to see me there, though. I'm only sticking around if you go back. You stay like this-"

"You can't get away from me, Sam. There's nowhere you can go that I can't follow."

Sam grinned evilly. "I know how to protect myself from unwanted spirits. Dad taught me the same things he taught you. I can send you away if I have to, if avoiding your ghostly ass gets too hard, I can get rid of you forever. And don't think I won't, because I'm not afraid to really kill you."

Dean just stared at him, his eyes softening. No witty comeback, no sarcastic remark, not even a rude hand signal. He just stared, his eyes becoming glassy with tears that threatened to spill loose.

Can ghosts cry? Sam found himself wondering as his brother disappeared before his eyes. He realized too late that he had said the wrong thing, hit the wrong chord. He would be lucky to ever see his brother again, though he was sure the older man would follow him, trying hard to make sure his presence remained undetected. Because that was the kind of person Dean was.

Sighing, his mistake weighing heavily on his heart, Sam turned back to the hospital. He had something he needed to tell his father, and he had a feeling the older man wouldn't take it too well.


Sam walked slowly into the room to find his father hovering over Dean's bed, a look of concern written across his face. "I don't understand it," the older man muttered, "why wouldn't it work?"

"He wasn't here when you said it," Sam explained, "he was, um, in me."

"In you?" John asked, turning to face his youngest son, "he was in you?"

"Yeah. Then we had a fight. He left. I don't know where he went, but he's not here anymore."

John frowned, his disappointment and anger growing steadily within him. Whatever Sammy had said to his brother must have been bad to make the elder leave. "What were you two arguing about?"

"Stuff," Sam shrugged, avoiding his father's sharp eyes, "just brother stuff, you know?"

"No, I don't know. Tell me."

Sam sighed and slumped down into a chair, looking at the floor. "I just think he should go back, you know, come back to us here. He wants to stay like that. And I told him that if he didn't go back, I'd make sure he never could. I told him I'd pull the plug. I told him I'd let him die. I didn't think he'd take it so hard."

"You're right," John replied, gazing back at his comatose son in the hospital bed, "you didn't think, Sam. You hardly ever do when it comes to your relationship with your brother. You think you know him, but you just know the defensive layer, the outer shell. Somewhere, beneath the sarcasm and the wit, there's a completely different person."

"Like an onion? Layers?"

The older man nodded. "Exactly."

"How come he never lets me see the other side of himself? How come he hides it from me?"

"Because he's been hurt," John sighed, "a lot."

"Mom's death," Sam nodded, understanding, "Cassie breaking up with him."

"No. You. You're the one who hurt him the most, Sammy. You left him. And he's never quite gotten over that, because you keep threatening to leave him again. He can't be himself around you because you'll just walk away."

Sam finally looked up at his father, a man he'd always seen as controlling, overbearing, and uncaring, and realized that he'd been wrong all along. John had paid more attention while his sons were growing up than he'd let on, he'd picked up on things that both of his boys had missed about each other. Hopes and dreams, fears and faults, he'd noticed them all. He was perfectly aware that Dean was different than other people, a little more fractured, broken, and needed to be saved. He had always through Sam would be the one to save him. Now, he was second-guessing that assumption, and it hurt his youngest son to see it in his eyes.

He never looked at me the same way, Sam thought, a sudden sinking feeling growing in his stomach. He knew his father never would. He had goofed up, had let his brother die, not just come close, but actually die. Maybe not physically, but on the inside, and somehow, that was worse.

The beeping of the machines continued as he hung his head. John turned away. He hated to watch his son cry.


Well, one more chapter, and then we're done! What do you think?