AN: This is finally it, y'all. The last chapter. I can't thank all you guys enough for all the follows, and favourites, and anonymous reviews, and private messages that have helped give me the strength to never give up on this story. I appreciate each and every one of you, and hope that if you're dealing with the kinds of issues addressed in this fic that you can take something away from it, and maybe start getting yourself help, in whatever way that may mean. Enjoy this final chapter, everybody.

A whirlwind of faces and voices continued for what felt like, and may have been, hours. There came a point when the voices started making sense again, and blurry shapes started to form into something real at last. Along with sight and hearing returning to him, Sam soon recongnised the smell of wherever he was: anesthetic. That, plus the fact that everything surrounding him was a dull white or grey, led him to the conclusion that he was in a hospital.

Only- it didn't feel like a normal hospital. He wasn't on one of those adjustable beds, there were no machines tracking his vitals forming a barricade around him, he didn't hear the frantic footfalls of busy doctors pattering outside the door, which appeared to be locked, also odd, but strangest of all, he was alone. Nobody laid on a bed several feet down from him, there wasn't a nurse sitting beside him to alert someone about him waking up. This was all so- different.

The heavy-looking door then swung open, and Sam's heart soared at the sight of the person that had angrily burst through it. Despite all the undeniable pain he was feeling, Sam managed a smile as he spoke that person's name.

"Dean."

Sam thought that Dean's clearly irritated expression would fade once he saw that Sam was okay. But it didn't. The ire still glowed in Dean's eyes, but they also combatted the care and relief that always manifested when it came to Sam. Dean seemed as much at war with himself as Sam's mind was with reality.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean finally said when he made it to the chair beside Sam's bed. Maybe it wasn't anger in Dean's eyes after all. Confusion? Not quite. Disappointment. Perhaps. Then it dawned on Sam. Exasperation.

"Wh-what's wrong?" Sam frowned. He was worried now. Were his legs broken? Was he paralysed? Would he never be able to hunt again?

Dean dropped his head, closing his eyes as he ran a hand over his face. There was an increasingly tense and uncomfortable silence before Dean spoke again.

"They found drugs in your system, Sammy."

Sam felt his stomach drop. "Oh."

Dean's head snapped up. The anger was back. "'Oh?' Is that seriously all you have to say? You told me you were okay, Sam!"

"I-I was."

"Really? Cuz I didn't think that 'okay' people just took a bunch of cough syrup for no reason, but I guess I was wrong. I'm so glad you opened my eyes to this whole new world of what 'okay' means!"

Ashamed, Sam's voice got a little quieter. "I-I just wanted to sleep, Dean."

Sighing, Dean brushed a hand through his hair, his classic move to try to calm himself down. "You should have told me. If I'd known that you weren't sleeping I would've-"

"You would've what?" Sam interrupted. "Dean, you and I have done a lot of impossible things over the years, but getting the Lucifer inside my head to shut up long enough for me to get some rest isn't gonna be one of them. All telling you would have done was make you blame yourself, and then you'd stop sleeping too."

Dean huffed. "Right. Because me getting a call that my brother's in the hospital after getting into a car accident and apparently been doing drugs is much better than me losing a couple hours of sleep trying to find a way to help you!"

Sam shrank back a bit. He knew he had no argument against that. "You're right. I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I promise. So- what's the plan to get me out of here?"

When Dean dropped eye contact with Sam, he knew something else was wrong. But no gut feeling of worry could ever have prepared Sam for Dean's next words.

"There isn't one."

Sam swallowed, thinking he had just figured out what was happening. "N-nice try, Lucifer. But Dean would never just abandon me. I know that this isn't real."

"Dammit, Sammy, yes it is!" Dean snapped. "I wish it wasn't, but it is! I wish I didn't have to keep waking up in the middle of the night because I heard you screaming. I wish I never had to break into a hotel bathroom to see you bleeding out on the floor because of a hallucination that I can't do anything about. I wish I didn't have to start every damn day thinking that it could be your last because your screwed-up head keeps coming up with new ways to try to get you to kill yourself!" Dean's head lowered again, but even as he hid his face, the quaking shoulders still gave him away. He was crying. "I-I can't do it anymore, Sammy. I've tried every damn thing in the book to try to help you, but you and I both know that nothing I do is gonna fix this. This isn't something that we can keep shrugging off anymore. You need help that I can't give you. We spent our whole lives helping other people, but I am begging you, little brother, for once, let someone else help us. Please."

Sam felt his own throat tighten at Dean's confession and plea. "Wh-what about you?" His voice shook as much as Dean's shoulders. "What are you gonna do if I'm here?"

"I'm gonna keep looking." Dean said it as a solemn vow. "I'm gonna look all over the country, hell, I'll go all over the damn globe to find someone who can help. Faith healers, rogue angels, whatever it takes."

"But-"

"No 'buts', Sam. Not this time. I have watched you suffer enough to be able to skip past the lecture about the dangers of making shady deals with people this time. It's got risks, I know that, but every day of our lives has risks. And I am done just sitting by and pretending that you're okay, because you're not. But it ain't your fault, so you don't need to feel bad about it. You're done hiding and lying about it because being honest and getting some professional help is the only chance we got at getting you better. So promise me that just because I won't be right next to you this time that you're still gonna do everything you need to to fix this."

As much as the idea of Dean leaving him hurt, Sam knew that this wasn't a hallucination for only one reason. And that was that he had hope. And it wasn't the kind of hope he felt when Michael would challenge Lucifer to another fight, allowing Sam about five minutes of no pain. It wasn't the kind of hope he'd felt when that drug dealer told Sam that he'd be able to get him to fall asleep. No. This was hope, real hope that promised a possibility of a better future, not a mere glimpse of bliss and nothingness. If being honest was all it took to get Sam there, then he'd do it.

"Okay, Dean." Sam said. "I promise I'll do whatever I have to in order to get better."

At last, that got a smile out of Dean. That soft, caring, and gentle smile that Lucifer could never perfect no matter how many times he had tried. "You know I'll be back, and it'll be with good news."

Sam nodded. "I know. And you'll call too, right?"

"Of course I will. I'm still your stone number one, Sammy."

With the promise of fixing himself at last, Sam smiled too. "Th-thank you, Dean."

"Yeah, thanks for finally taking the hint and giving us some alone time." Lucifer said, overexcitement and malice practically dripping from his voice.

Sam's throat tightened again, this time in fear. "It-it's not gonna be easy, is it?"

"The road to recovery never is." Dean admitted knowingly. "But you've literally been to hell and back, so I know that nothing, and I mean nothing, is gonna stop you from making it. You can do this, Sam."

He still inwardly panicked a bit at the idea of being without Dean and trapped with Lucifer for God knows how long, but if his big brother truly believed in him, then Sam knew that he could do this. If his brother's faith had gotten him to stop Lucifer before, then Sam had no trouble doing it again. Only this time, his reward wouldn't be getting himself eternally trapped in the Cage as the Devil's chew-toy. No, it would be something incomparably better.

It would be peace.

AN: As far as I know, you guys haven't been to hell and back like Sam Winchester, but that doesn't mean that you're not all strong enough to overcome the trials in your own lives. For some of you, that trial may be admitting that you need to seek out help, and I'll be honest, that can definitely be scary, but believe me when I say that the end results are worth the temporary fear.

I know that the ending of this story may seem almost- unfinished, but I wanted the last note of this to be the emphasis that Dean isn't an expert, he doesn't know what to do when it comes to all the problems inside Sam's head. And that's okay, that's why there are trained professionals for when your friends or family can't give you the help that you need. And I have personally never been to a hospital specifically designed for treating the kinds of issues Sam is going through, so the last thing I want to do is inaccurately portray that. This is not a heal-all fic, and I am also not an expert. Not by a longshot. But all I can hope is that you all take something from it in one way or another, and that's all I that could ask for.

I sincerely hope that you have all enjoyed this fic, and that you take its message to heart. You are strong even when you admit that you've been weak, and there are people that can help you through it. I think that's about all I can say on this matter, but if anyone out there would like to talk to me about anything maybe relating to this fic's topics, please don't hesitate. Again, I'm not a professional, but I am more than willing to listen. Take care of yourselves, always keep fighting, and until next time, carry on, my wayward sons.