Disclaimer: As much as I'd love to be able to, I claim no ownership of anything to do with Supernatural...sniffs

Warnings: Angst, violence, swearing. The Usual

A/N: So, here we are at the end; the last chapter of this little story of mine. I really do hope that you have enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. This is the very first story ever that I've actually finished, so that makes it very special to me. I honestly expected to write this whole thing in Sam's perspective; writing in Dean's POV always seemed daunting to me. He's so much more complex than Sam sometimes, and much more trickier to figure out. Same goes to John!

So a very big thank you to all my wonderful readers who have reviewed. I really do appreciate your support! LOVE TO YOU ALL!!!!

And there's a little present in the near future that you can all look forward to! It's not over quite yet!

Chapter Seventeen: From The Bottom of My Heart

While the scenes shuffle 'round
Let your world anchor down
Pull your heart from your sleeve
First react then believe
You won't always get thunder
To warn you of storms ahead
So bury all this pain
And get on with your life again

Sister Don't cry, by Collective Soul

Dean wasn't sure who was gladder the day they walked out of the hospital, himself or Sam. Well, Sam didn't exactly walk. He lumbered about clumsily on his crutches. Dean knew that every movement he made was painful because he carried himself very carefully. The doctors said that the internal bruising was the cause, combined with the period of inactivity in the hospital bed, and that he would slowly get more mobile as he recuperated.

Sam was….well, Sam obviously wasn't okay. The first few days out of the hospital, he stuck as close to Dean as possible, relying on him like he hadn't since he was a little kid.

Secretly, Dean was pleased. It gave him something to do, and it was a duty that he was good at, one that he actually liked. Sam avoided any contact with their father and the pastor (they were staying with Jim until they were both fully recovered) and barely spoke more than ten words to either of them. He didn't speak much to Dean either, but then, he didn't need to.

Dean knew that he was confused. Near death experiences changed people in strange ways. In Sam's case, he was withdrawing in order to protect himself. Dean hoped that he would come out of the protective shell he had build for himself with time, but he knew that his father wasn't helping the cause any.

The man had a funny was of showing his concern, that was for sure. He kept a close, but distant eye on the two of them. He buried himself in research for the first couple of weeks, stopping only to make sure that Dean and Sam ate regularly and got to bed at a decent hour. Dean had caught wind of the resentment and anger that Sam was harboring towards their dad, but nothing he said or did made any difference. Sam would just turn away and shut him out. He was nearly at his wits end, juggling the two of them.

He had caught Sam lingering in the dining room at times and when he was in the church, staring up at those colored windows like they were windows to a place where everything was much simpler and made sense. This was the third time in the last few days that he had stumbled in on one such session of brooding that was becoming characteristic of his younger brother.

" Heya Sammy. Whatcha doing'?" He asked cheerfully, covering up his unease.

Sam turned slowly away from the windows and watched as Dean walked up the aisle towards him. For a moment it seemed to Dean as if his eyes were glowing from within and it reminded him eerily of the first time he had faced the monstrosity that had briefly inhabited him.

He shook his fear off and told himself that it was just the late afternoon sun. Sam rested easily on his crutches now, ad Dean's eyes drifted down towards the garishly bright decorations on the white cast. He grinned and silently applauded his artistic talents as Sam turned back to face the podium.

"Nothing," was the sullen answer.

"Yeah, well if nothing had a face like that…." Dean began as he flopped down into the first pew. "He's probably having serious problems gettin' any from the ladies, if ya know what I mean."

Sam turned back towards him once more, swaying on the crutches.

"Not everything is about sex, Dean," he scowled. Dean grinned at him.

"You'll understand when you're older Sammy."

"Don't patronize me, Dean," Sam retorted.

Dean said nothing in reply, waiting patiently as he dropped his head back to stare at the shadowed ceiling. Three….two….one…

A sigh and then, "I'm sorry Dean. I didn't mean…"

"Park your ass, man. You're making me uncomfortable."

Dean watched as Sam maneuvered himself on the bench beside him.

"You wanna tell me what's gotten your panties in such a twist?" he asked calmly. Patience was the key to dealing with Sam when he was like this. If only their father could figure that out…

As predicted, Sam shifted beside him, then went still and shifted again a moment later. He was fiddling with something in his hands that Dean couldn't quite make out. He knew that Sam was probably boiling with emotions on the inside; it was as Jim had said it would be. Sam was already struggling with what had happened to him, and it was threatening to rip him to shreds if Dean didn't get some serious damage control underway soon.

Sam hated being pressured into doing anything he wasn't sure about. Dean knew this because he was exactly the same. He was just more subtle about it that was all. But Sam, he was all blazing emotions. He had never been able to control anything he was feeling. It was all out there for the world to see, and it was all felt in the extreme. It was both a blessing and a curse. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and at the moment, that heart was very troubled and lost.

Dean would be the one to get it back on the path. He was certain of that much, at least.

And so he waited for what seemed like forever for Sam to make up his mind and come clean. Dean already had a sneaking suspicion of what it was though. He kept his thoughts to himself and twiddled his thumbs.

"Do you…." Sam spoke up eventually before clearing his throat. "Do you think Dad's going to leave me behind again?"

Dean had known that was what it was about. He had known from the moment that Sam had woken up in this dark funk of his in the morning that it would be something to do with their dad. He suppressed the urge to sigh and sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"He won't."

"How do you know?" Sam asked, sounding moody and belligerent. Dean knew he had to get a handle on this before Sam did something unpredictable. It was common knowledge that Sam did stupid, impulsive things when he was angry. And boy was he angry. His younger brother was just one big bundle of anger, and he had been since they had left the hospital. It wasn't obvious to anyone but Dean. He was probably the only one who could see that anger burning away just beneath the surface, like a pot simmering away on the stove.

Dean also knew that it was a defense mechanism. Sam had used his anger and his will to survive to hold out against that Wraith and now that the Wraith was gone, the anger was all that was left. Anger for what had happened to him, anger at the world for being so unfair to him, anger at his father, and yes probably anger at him too.

"Because I do. Now that the Wraith is gone, he has no reason to leave you behind again." Dean replied steadily. "He only left in the first place to make sure that you would be safe."

"Did he tell you that?"

"No. I just know it."

"Right," Sam snorted. "And you know everything, of course."

"Well, that's what big brothers do. They make it their business to know everything that concerns their little brothers."

"Right. And you'd know what normal brothers do, wouldn't you? What with your huge amount of experience concerning anything normal," Sam muttered.

Dean resisted the urge to slap him over the head. This was exactly what he had been expecting, so why did Sam's anger hurt him so much?

"Look, Sammy…"

"It's Sam." He snapped immediately. "Stop treating me as if I'm going to break would you? I'm not a fucking invalid. Whatever you have to say to me just say it!"

Dean blinked in surprise and couldn't find the words to reply.

"I know that you've been wanting to say something to me for the last couple of weeks. What, do you think I'm stupid or something?"

Dean shook his head and stood up.

"Look. Sam." Dean began then stopped, thinking. After a moment his mind was made up. "Whatever issues you have with dad, I think you need to deal with them. It won't do either of you any good to just go on ignoring whatever this is."

Sam let out an incredulous laugh and flopped back on the pew.

"Have you ever tried to talk to that man about anything? It's like trying to get blood out of a stone."

"Sam!" Dean snapped. "Please don't talk about him like that. He's been really worried about you."

"Well, he has a funny way of showing it," Sam mumbled, his hands moving in the shadows once more. Dean tried to make out what it was he was holding, but gave up again after a moment.

"There's no use talking to you when you're like this," he decided without any heat in his voice as he stood up. "Come find me when you're ready to talk."

He made it two steps before Sam did anything.

"Dean….I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be such a brat," Sam murmured.

He turned around and looked at him as he sat there in the late afternoon sunlight, and he felt himself relax a little. He looked so young sitting there. Just like the little kid he had been. His anger had faded somewhat now, and he was sitting in a slumped position, looking down at his hands.

" I really don't mean to….take my problems out on you, you know," Sam continued on softly. "I just….sometimes I don't even know what I'm saying. I just keep getting then and now all mixed up and I don't know what to think."

"Hey." Dean interrupted. "I'm not mad at you."

He rejoined him on the bench and sat half facing him.

"I know. I'm still sorry though. You've been so good to me, and I've been horrible back." Sam wouldn't meet his eyes now.

Dean was struggling to keep up. One minute Sam was angry and moody, the next he was depressed and withdrawn. He supposed it was a symptom of that Post-traumatic thing that the doctors and his dad had talked about. He could deal with the anger better than he could the depression.

"It's okay, Sam. I understand. I know that you keep hearing people say that it's going to be all right. It must be getting old by now, huh?"

Sam nodded.

"And you don't believe that it will, right?"

Again, Sam nodded.

"Well, I'm not going to tell you that. I'm going to tell you that it will get easier to live with. You don't get over things like this. But you learn to live with them. You adjust. And if there's one thing us Winchester's are good at, it's adjusting, right?" He nudged Sam's shoulder gently with his own.

Sam's face broke out into a small, twisted smile that hardly reached his eyes, but it was better than nothing. And it was a step in the right direction so Dean wasn't going to complain.

"Right."

"So…whenever things get all twisted in your head, just come to me if you want and I'll help you to straighten them out. Or you don't even have to say anything. We can just, like…..sit in manly silence and brood together if you'd want. Whatever you feel like."

Dean's attempt at humor didn't fall completely flat. It drew a small chuckle of laughter from Sam, and that was enough to lift his flagging spirits and banish his tiredness a little. He was living for the day when he could see Sam smile that old smile of little boy happiness and laughter.

"Thanks Dean."

"No problems little bro. Now, I think the Pastor cooked some kind of chille for dinner. You want to come and see if he's actually trying to poison us via cooking, or you want to sit here and brood for a little longer?"

Sam looked up at him as he stood us, his eyes hooded and unreadable.

"I think I'll stay and brood for a bit."

"Fair enough. Nothing wrong with a good bout of brooding, if you ask me. I'll save you some."

He started to turn and leave, but was halted by Sam's cool fingers on his wrist.

"Here," Sam was holding out something on his open palm. It glittered in the light from the setting sun, and Dean reached out to pick it up, puzzled.

It was their mother's cross, and the delicate gold chain that it hung on. Both were undamaged and clean, and Dean stared at the jewelry for a long moment. Sam had used this to kill the Wraith. He had used it as a life line of hope, when the chips were down.

It warmed him on the inside at the thought of Sam using something of his to keep his spirits up. He remembered the old days when Sam had followed him around like an infatuated puppy, hero-worship and stars in his shining eyes.

The boy sitting in front of him was just another version of that boy. An older, more jaded version, but still the same Sam. Dean felt his heart swell with love and admiration for the boy-turned-man sitting in from of him. He couldn't help but smile.

"You've had this the whole time?" he asked, incredibly moved at the very thought.

"Yeah. Well, Emma gave it back to me after I woke up. She said I had been holding it when they bought me in, and she thought I'd want it back," Sam explained uncomfortably. "I'm sorry for taking it."

"Don't apologize. I don't mind," Dean said softly. He watched the light play off the polished gold. For the first time since they had been released, Dean really did feel better. Like he could go back to being a person again, and not just a casualty in a hospital bed. Not just another statistic on someone's clip board. And they could go back to being brothers once more.

"You keep it, Sam," he said. "I think you need it more than I do, now."

Sam accepted it back solemnly, and stared down at it as it rested in the palm of his hand.

It would forever remain a reminder of what had taken place during the early teenage years of his life. A symbol of hope and despair, love and hate. A symbol of conflict and a symbol of faith.

What Dean didn't know what that Sam held onto that cross through the years to come, and that he kept it as a reminder not of the Wraith but of Dean's love for him. And of obstacles and trials that they had overcome together. A symbol not of despair, nor of faith, but one of combined strength of will, and unity.

Sam was just glad that it was over. He wouldn't have been able to do it without Dean.

THE END

I'm still here
And climbing every rung
If someone saw something
Now Someone speak up
Back over the rotted bridge I cross
Open up these graves
Let these bodies talk
I'm Burried under leaves blood red and gold
Death says nothing back
But I told you so
I told you so...

God says nothing back by the Wallflowers

A/N: Stayed tuned for the epilogue. Soundtrack soon to be posted on my profile.