Author's Note: Well, here's the final chapter of my second fic. Thanks again for all of the reviews and taking the time to read this, guys...it means the world to me!

A huge thanks goes out to Bayre, my awesome beta!

Enjoy!

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When Sam's eyes slowly fluttered open, he saw the rays of the early morning sun peeking over the horizon. Looking around, he saw he was still in the cemetery, lying on his back. He carefully lifted himself up on his elbows and took a look around at the cemetery around him. Behind him was nothing more than a pile of ashes that had once been Marie Laveau. To the right of that, he saw the door to her tomb was still standing wide open and his duffel bag was sitting in front of it. Turning his head to look before him, he saw Dean was lying on the ground just as he had been before Sam lost consciousness.

Pushing himself slowly to his feet, Sam made his way to his fallen brother. Dean was lying on his back, one arm draped over his stomach, while his other lay outstretched above his head. Sam leaned down and felt for a pulse, letting out a huge sigh of relief when he felt it beating steady.

"Dean?" Sam softly shook his brother and jumped back in surprise when Dean bolted upright, nearly punching him in the face.

"Dude, tell me that bitch is out of me!"

Sam chuckled softly and nodded. "Yeah, Dean…she's gone."

"Thank God." Dean's eyes darted around the cemetery and finally landed back on Sam, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Sam laughed. Even after being possessed and shot with rock salt, Dean still managed to put his brother's well-being before his. It amazed the young hunter and annoyed him at the same time—he was glad to have that concern from his brother, but he wanted Dean to take the time to worry about himself as well. But he knew that would never happen—not as long as Dean was still breathing. Sam would always come first and it was something he just had to accept.

Sam patted his brother on the arm. "Yeah, Dean…I'm fine."

"You're a liar," Dean grumbled as he pulled himself up from the ground. Sam quickly offered assistance as he saw the older man wince and hold his chest in pain, but Dean brushed him off. "I got it, Sam." He leaned against one of the headstones to catch his breath.

"Dean, you were just shot."

"And you were just stabbed, so we're both in the same boat here."

"It's a sinking boat, then." Sam glanced at Dean and grinned.

Dean returned the grin then waved his hand towards the tomb. "We better get this cleaned up before the sun completely rises and the tourists come out to play."

Sam shook his head ruefully. "How anyone can pay money to take a tour of this place amazes me."

"You and me both, little brother. Personally, I couldn't give a crap if we never come here again." He pushed himself off the headstone and walked over to the tomb where he began to pick up their weapons and supplies, Sam following his lead.

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It was a good hour before the brothers got back to their motel room. Sam was first to take the shower and Dean let him have it. The kid deserved it after the night he'd gone through and it was the least Dean could do. Sam emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later and Dean had him sit on the bed so he could bandage Sam's stab wound. It didn't appear to be that deep and only required a few stitches. Dean made quick work of it, silently cheering his brother on as Sam pressed through the pain of the needle going into his tender flesh. After he was finished stitching it up, he applied some antibiotic ointment, then covered it with a gauze pad. Dean then handed Sam a couple of ibuprofen and cleaned up his mess. After making sure his brother was settled, he quickly darted into the shower.

He stood under the hot water, allowing it to soothe his aching muscles, but it was doing nothing to calm the ache in his chest. He'd almost killed his brother a couple hours ago and it was something the water couldn't wash away. How did you get over that? How did you get over the fact you just tried to kill the one person you vowed to protect and keep safe above everything else? While Dean knew it wasn't exactly him going after his brother, he couldn't stop the guilt that was threatening to choke the life out of him.

Sam was everything to him, the only reason he got up day after day to continue the fight their father started. If he didn't have Sam he was pretty sure he wouldn't be doing this—he wouldn't have a reason to. Sam was that burst of inspiration he needed to get through the day and if he lost that, he lost everything that ever meant anything to him. While losing John had put a hole in his tough exterior, losing Sam would have made that exterior crumble. Dean couldn't accept that, couldn't accept his brother being taken from him especially by his own hands.

He hated that Marie had been right about Sam. He hated she'd been able to see through walls he'd built up for years and have them crumble in a blink of an eye. He didn't like the fact she'd been able to use Sam against him and treat his brother like he was nothing more than a pawn in a game. He hated seeing that look of terror on his baby brother's face as he held the knife to the tender flesh of Sam's throat, knowing he caused that terror. It wasn't supposed to be like that, Sam wasn't supposed to be scared of him. Dean was supposed to protect him from that terror, protect him from everything the world threw at him and he felt as if he'd failed miserably.

Dean began to wonder about how his brother would look at him now. While Sam had been smiling at him at the cemetery and seemed to be okay, was he really? Was he wondering if he could trust his brother anymore? Would he hold out fear for Dean or would he get past it? Would he worry if his brother would come after him again? Could Sam truly look at his brother and find comfort with him or would he feel like he couldn't trust him any longer?

The older hunter couldn't accept that, couldn't accept his brother may be scared of him now.

Dean stepped from the shower, knowing what he and Sam needed to do. They needed to talk this out which went against everything Dean was. He didn't like to talk, but he had to know if Sam would be okay around him. He needed his brother to know he didn't need to fear him, that he could trust him.

Stepping out of the bathroom, the towel wrapped around his waist, Dean saw Sam reclining against the headboard, his eyes closed. He let a small smile play on his lips as he watched his brother sleep. Sleep came hard for the young hunter and when Sam could find it, Dean wasn't going to spoil it for him. He quickly walked over to his duffel and pulled out a pair of sweat pants. As he slipped them on, he heard Sam shuffle around on the bed.

"How's the chest?"

Dean shrugged. "It's okay." He wasn't lying. He could still feel where the rock salt hit him—it was in the exact same spot Sam had shot him back at the Roosevelt Asylum. But it was nothing more than a dull throbbing pain now; he'd suffered much worse and he wasn't going to dwell on it.

"I'm sorry," Sam said softly.

Dean shook his head. "Don't, Sammy." He wasn't about to stand there and let Sam feel guilty about shooting him. He knew Sam had to do it, it was the only way for him to save himself and do to salt and burn.

"It seems to be a recurring pattern for me."

"Dammit, Sam…you had to do it. If you didn't, I would have killed you."

"It wasn't you, Dean."

Dean nodded. "Maybe not, but I can still feel that knife in my hand, Sam. I can still see the look of terror on your face when I held it to your throat and that scares me, man. It scares me that I allowed myself to be that vulnerable, to allow her to take control of me like that."

"Dean, you have nothing to feel guilty about."

"Really?" Dean walked over to the dresser and leaned his hands against it, not looking at Sam. "Sam, I know you were afraid. Even though she was controlling me, I could still feel everything, see everything. For a brief instant, I saw the flicker in your eyes—you thought I was going to kill you. And Sam, I gotta be honest with you…I thought I was going to kill you, too. I couldn't stop it and that terrified me."

"But you didn't, Dean, and that's what matters." Sam continued as Dean turned his eyes to him. "You were able to stop her from slitting my throat. I saw how much you were fighting against her, Dean. I could see that in your eyes, the fight."

"But I still stabbed you, Sammy."

"Like I said, it could have been much worse." Sam let out a long, tired sigh. "And if anyone should be apologizing, it should be me."

"What are you talking about, Sam?"

"The fight we had…about the wish."

Dean walked over to his bed and sat down. "We're not about to have a Kleenex moment here, are we?"

"Dean, I'm serious. That fight—it was stupid. I never should have blamed you for that wish, especially when it wasn't true."

"What are you talking about?"

"Maggie—Marie—whatever the hell her name was—she told me she never granted you that wish. She just used it against you to get you and me apart. She needed to create tension between us, so she took your wish and twisted it to her advantage. And I was stupid enough to believe it."

"So, you didn't mean anything you said?"

Sam looked shocked. "No, of course not." Dean fixed him with a look and Sam shrugged. "Dean, I was never angry at you for the wish. I was pissed at you because of the way you keep suffocating me. I mean, I can't even step foot out a door without you having to know where I'm going."

"You know why I'm like that, Sam."

"Yeah, Dean, I know—you're trying to protect me. I know I scared you when I went missing for that week Meg was possessing me, but you've got to let up on me a little. You need to realize when I need some time and you need to trust me to make some decisions on my own."

Dean knew Sam was right—he knew he was being overprotective, but in his mind, he had good reasons. He had to make sure Sam stayed safe, at all costs. He didn't know what he would do if something ever happened to Sam and he didn't want to find out. He also knew his brother needed a little space and he was willing to give it to him, albeit reluctantly. He wanted Sam to have a little freedom, he really did…but at what cost?

"Dean, I appreciate everything you do for me, I really do."

Dean nodded and averted his eyes to the floor.

"Look, I know I haven't told you this, but I really am glad you got me from Stanford. I mean, this past year of my life has been crazy. I can't imagine how it would have been if I didn't have you right there beside me. You've managed to pull me away from some pretty dark times…times I know I wouldn't have been able to face alone. But the fact I have you in my life right now, to help me, it means more to me than anything else in the world. And I just wanna say…thank you."

Dean let a small smile play on his lips, but he didn't look up at Sam. What his brother just said to him made him feel everything had been worth it. The past year, the tragedies, everything had been worth it. Sam was telling Dean something he'd always wanted to hear—he was wanted and appreciated. Dean thought for so long no one appreciated what he did and here was the one person, whose approval he sought more than anyone's in the world, telling him he was grateful for him.

"Are you still with me, Dean?" Sam asked, uncertainty in his voice.

Dean smiled and nodded, looking up at his brother. "Yeah, Sam…I'm always here with you."

An awkward silence fell between the brothers, neither sure what to say. Dean couldn't believe he just said something like that—was that ripped out of a cheesy chick flick, or what? But he meant what he said to his kid brother—he would always be here for him, no matter what. Even if Sam thought there was no one in the world he could turn to, Dean would be here for him, to help him along the way.

"Dude…that was such a girly ass thing to say." Sam was laughing.

"Must be all those Lifetime movies you watch rubbing off on me," Dean shot back, which promptly shut his kid brother up.

"Bite me," Sam said sourly and then added, "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean laughed and watched as Sam sat back against his headboard, armed crossed over his chest like a petulant child. It amazed the older hunter how Sam—his 6'4" kid brother—could act like and resemble a five year old as soon as he didn't get his way. But then the sandy haired brother grew serious. "Have you heard anything about Maggie?" As they finished up cleaning their mess at the cemetery, Sam had called 911 to get some help sent over for Maggie.

Sam nodded. "I called the hospital and the nurse said she was in fair condition. She had a slight concussion and they wanted to keep an eye on her today. After that, I'm sure the police are going to pick her up and they'll have a nice little chat."

"I really am sorry it didn't turn out better for you, Sammy."

"Yeah…I am too."

"So…I was thinking maybe we'd spend another night here and hit the road tomorrow. I think we could both use the rest and a small break."

Sam nodded and silence once again took over the small room, each brother lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Sam broke the silence as he started to chuckle.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" Dean demanded.

Sam turned his impish smile on his brother. "Dude, how did it feel to have a girl inside of you?"

"That's a little dirty, Sammy. And if I'm not mistaken, you were inside of her."

Sam's face turned a bright shade of scarlet and Dean burst into laughter. "Fine…how did it feel to be possessed by a girl?"

"You tell me," Dean shot back. "You were possessed by one first."

"You are such an ass, Dean."

"Yeah…I love you too, little brother."

END

Thanks again and for those who are wondering...I will be doing another fic and it is in its mapping stage right now. I won't start posting on it until the end of June or beginning of July.

So until then...happy hunting!