So. It's been a while. A decade, if we're going to be specific…

I never actually thought I'd find myself putting 'pen' to 'paper' again and trying to get into the heads of the Winchester boys, but after reading online about the final episode (about which I have FEELINGS btw) something small began to stir. I suppose I'd secretly toyed with the idea of doing one final story, to tie-in with their journey coming to an end, but knowing how it DID end made that rather fuzzy idea start to take solid form.

I then made the mistake of mentioning the vague possibility to a good friend, who pounced on it with astonishing speed and (virtually) sat there, staring at me, with a hopeful look in her eye. No pressure though, of course, was I believe the phrase she (rather unconvincingly) used.

Which neatly brings me here. About to share my attempt at 'fixing' the finale.

Before anyone gets to the story however - and sincere appreciation at this point for working through this rather lengthy author's note – I must make a few disclaimers. First and foremost that, as I've already mentioned, it's been 10 years since I last tried my hand at Dean and Sam's voices so the term 'rusty' is somewhat of an understatement. I therefore apologise if they sound out of character, or just plain terrible.

Secondly, this is very firmly going to be in Alternate Universe territory. I never dreamed I'd write an AU story, as I was always very careful to stick to canon and firmly within the universe we'd seen onscreen. But… I simply cannot bring myself to have 'my' Dean and Sam exist in a word where one of them was left as the last one standing, something they'd both dreaded all along. Hence my tweak – hopefully in a believable manner – of what happened in that barn.

Finally (I think I actually heard the sigh of relief from anyone still here) I'm basing this on what I've read of the episode, as we have a few weeks before it airs here in the UK. So apologies for any glaring errors or mistakes.

Right then. I suppose I should stop dithering and let the story speak for itself. This one is dedicated to Kristi; she knows why…

In the end, Sam realised there was an awful lot of that day which he didn't remember clearly. Even when he focused, which he did so reluctantly under the circumstances, there were just flashes of blurry images and the sense of a feeling. Like a lingering phantom pain.

It was almost like trying to recall in detail a dream you'd had, only this one was very firmly in nightmare territory. In the many, long, hours since he'd wondered if it was a blessing in disguise really, this inability to revisit one of the worst moments of his life.

That train of thought made him shift in the chair, the physical discomfort mirroring the uneasy feeling inside. Out of habit he glanced at the clock on the wall, not really caring what time it was in all honesty, and then back to the bed where his brother slept peacefully, lost in what Sam hoped were far happier dreams than the ones which had plagued him for the last few days on the rare occasions he'd managed to drift off.

Making a quick scan of the various machines quietly whirring and beeping in the background, his understanding of what the different numbers and squiggles meant increasing the longer he sat there, he felt the usual sense of relief that all seemed normal. Whilst there were other signs of the slow but steady improvement in Dean's condition, from the colour he was regaining in his face to the fact the IV bag now contained clear fluid rather than ruby red blood, it was those readings he was taking most comfort from. The doctor he'd interrogated (and he did feel a bit guilty about that in retrospect, knowing he'd probably been pretty intimidating in his panicked state) had kindly explained the important ones and Sam's gaze had been glued to them ever since, almost afraid that if he looked away they'd suddenly take a turn for the worse.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, for the second time in as many minutes, he stood up and stretched, wincing as various parts of his spine cracked loudly.

He really was too old for these kinds of vigils, and definitely too old for this many hours spent folded into uncomfortable hospital furniture.

Taking one more look at both the machines and his brother, and firmly resisting the urge to straighten the covers since he could almost hear Dean's teasing in his head, he quietly slipped out of the room and began to make the now familiar trek to the cafeteria.

In the elevator he slumped tiredly against the wall, rubbing gritty eyes. The hospital staff had been particularly kind to him so far, bringing him the good coffee from the staff lounge and turning a blind eye to his use of the en-suite shower in his brother's room so that he could at least wash the blood off himself and change his clothes. He was lucky they'd had their overnight bags with them, the hunt far enough from the bunker that they'd intended to stop somewhere before heading back.

If he'd had to sit there this long covered in Dean's blood he might just be even more strung out than he was already.

Still, despite all of that he felt exhausted, a bone-deep tiredness that had as much to do with fear and worry and the stress of the 'what ifs' currently rattling round his brain on a loop as the sporadic power-naps his sleep schedule had been reduced to. It wasn't the first time he'd felt like this, and definitely not the first time it had been caused by the threat of losing Dean, but it didn't get any easier with repetition.

How much did he hate that there even was a repetition of such circumstances?

Distracted by the jolt of the elevator reaching the right floor, Sam gave his eyes a final rub and pushed off the wall, straightening his shoulders and trying to look a little less like he might be about to keel over.

When he reached the cafeteria it was quiet, as was usual for that time of night. He grabbed a tray, half-heartedly choosing a blueberry muffin which was clearly past its best, to give his stomach something to soak up the large amount of coffee he was about to consume. Gratefully accepting the largest mug they had from the cashier, and returning the polite nod of recognition as he paid for the items, he scanned the room and was pleased to note the table he'd begun to think of us as 'his' was free.

Sinking into the chair, comfier than the one in Dean's room thanks to a more generous amount of padding, he took a long, slow sip of coffee before forcing himself to break off a piece of the muffin and give it a quick chew before swallowing.

Experience had taught him that too much liquid caffeine and not enough sustenance would leave him feeling both queasy and lightheaded, so he was trying to do better on that front. After all, he was miserable enough without adding to self-inflicted harm to the mix.

Looking away from his unappetising midnight snack and out of the large window next to him he ignored his own weary reflection and squinted, making the far off lights from the nearby town twinkle like a Christmas tree. The hospital was just outside the town limits, far enough that the parking lot and grounds were pitch black whenever he ventured out for some much needed fresh air in the early hours. It added a sort of peace to the place though and on one particularly clear night he'd even managed to pick out a good few stars as he'd sat on a bench, staring up at the sky.

For all its pleasant points however, a hospital was still a hospital, and every second spent there was a reminder that his brother's life was still in danger. Sam would have given anything to be back at the bunker, a place that had become a second home to them over the years, watching Dean eat sugary cereal from a packet while griping about Sam's healthier breakfast.

Swallowing the last of the dry muffin past the lump which had appeared in his throat, he washed it down with the remaining lukewarm coffee and stood up. As always when he was away from Dean's side for too long he suddenly had a strong urge to get back to the room, to reassure himself that he hadn't slipped away while Sam was idly passing time elsewhere. Moving with haste he tidied everything onto his tray and retraced his steps, tapping his fingers against his leg as he found himself willing the elevator to go faster.

He was so preoccupied with the growing sense of panic, as though something important was about to happen, that he almost collided with one of the nurses as he rounded the corner to the corridor where Dean's room sat. Mumbling an apology, not caring about the response, he quickened his pace and had to check himself as he flung the door open, grabbing it at the last second to stop it bouncing off the wall.

His first call was to scan the machines again, reassuring himself nothing had changed, which is why he jumped, badly startled when he heard a voice break the stillness of the room.

"Hey, Sammy."

Yeah… This was supposed to be just a one-shot, a quick fix-it as per the Author's Note above, and yet here we are, 1600+ words in and barely scrapping the surface of an actual story. Which I guess means this is going to be a multi-chapter one, after all.

Sigh. Brevity, thy name is not SupernaturalGeek.

So… I'll see some of you in the next chapter, maybe? I promise not to be too long with that, hand on heart…