Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to anything used in the making of this story- song lyrics, poem quotes, research material and most of all Supernatural.

Warnings: Swearing and angst in this one. Enjoy!

A/N: And here it is, folks! The epilogue. The sound track to this story has been posted on my profile, so if you're interested in what songs inspired me to write this story, then head on over and take a look. Hope this is a satisfactory conclusion to this story!

Epilogue

Dean knew he had been right about Sam's anger issues. It sounded funny like that but it was true. If he had thought that going to anger management classes would have helped any, he would have signed Sam up in a heart beat.

As it was though, things didn't look as if they'd be improving any time soon. And the current situation was something he had never even imagined possible.

Their father was driving next to him, tight lipped and silent. Sam was fuming in the back seat. And Dean was sitting in uncertain silence in the passenger seat. If he was truly honest with himself, then he would admit that he was angry at Sam too. But their dad was already angry enough, and Dean figured Sam didn't need both of them hounding his ass.

Four months had passed since they had left the Pastor's. They were currently traveling through Thompson Falls, Montana, having been forced to move on due to Sam's rebellious behavior.

Their father had been coming home from a hunt. While Sam had reverted somewhat to his normal bantering relationship with Dean, including the notorious prank wars that were the despair of their father, things between Sam and their dad had been rocky. Which was an understatement. Sam challenged every decision their father made. If Dean had thought he was stubborn before the Wraith, he was impossible now.

Sam's anger had been both an advantage and a disadvantage. The old Sam had been somewhat shy and introverted. Sam's anger had transformed him into a fiercely independent and self-reliant young man with more confidence than before. The downside of it was that he now had a deep hatred of being vulnerable. If he felt threatened in any way, he lashed out. If he couldn't control a situation, then he backed off. It made him a better hunter in some ways, but it had hardened him in a way that resembled selfishness.

Dean saw it for what it was though, and that was a way of defending oneself from the overwhelming cruelty that the world often presented to those who lived lives such as theirs. It was Sam preparing himself, and in some ways he was glad for the transformation. It meant that Sam was able to look after himself better. If anything happened to Dean or their father, he would be have a fighting chance at least.

But Dean missed the gentler side of his brother. While Sam still opened up to Dean almost instantaneously, he still couldn't help but feel that he was losing his brother to the dark depression that seemed to be trapped inside of him..

And that didn't even begin to describe the virtually non-existent relationship between Sam and their dad.

The youngest Winchester was starting to live up to his name. He was downright pig headed when it came to their dad, and he knew exactly how to infuriate the man and did so whenever he could. It was starting to annoy Dean, the way Sam would deliberately provoke their dad.

Sam was punishing their father, probably unconsciously, but still. It needed to stop. And Dean suspected that the latest turn of events would be the catalyst.

They had been staying in Hamilton, a few towns over from Thompson falls, for a few weeks while their dad was off hunting some nasty or another (Dean hadn't been privy to that information this time). Dean had stayed home from school due to a nasty head cold he had contracted from somewhere. The school that Sam had been attending was only a short distance away from their home, and Dean knew that Sam liked to stay behind after school finished to play basket ball with some of the guys he had made friends with.

Only this particular afternoon, a bunch of guys from a higher grade had seen fit to try and kick them off the courts.

To make a long story short, Sam had exploded with very little provocation, and the resulting fight had been fast and bloody. Unfortunately for Sam, somebody had call the cops. Both Sam and the leader of the other groups had been arrested and hauled off to jail to cool their heels and wait for their parents to come and pick them up. It was so uncharacteristic of Sam that Dean had been shocked speechless.

Luckily though, their dad had finished the hunt and was on his way home. He had literally picked Dean up, chucked most of their belongings in the car and raced over to the police station to bail Sam out.

Dean had been secretly proud when he had seen the size of the guy Sam had taken on, and a little worried. The guy was huge. Bulging muscles, crew cut, well over six foot. Typical meat head. He'd have to teach Sam how to choose his battles a little more wisely in the future.

They'd been driving for hours and not a word had been said about the entire incident. Dean knew that that meant their father was furious. Livid, in fact, and that he was making an effort to calm down before he started ripping Sam a new one.

And Sam deserved it too. Both Dean and their father were sick to death about worrying over the results of Sam's reckless behavior. Their father was at his wits end.

The only thing Dean was worried about now was the impending fight, and dealing with the fallout.

The worst part, Dean thought to himself, was the waiting. It was like walking blindly into a mine field.

He had thought that the explosive argument that had occurred when John had first started hunting again and they had been left at the Pastor's place was bad. This looked as if it would be worse. Of course, Sam had never been arrested before. Sam was the good one, Dean was the one who got in trouble.

Dean glanced in the rear view mirror. Sam looked a little worse for wear, with a spectacular bruise blooming on his right cheek bone, and a split lip, but nothing too serious.

About ten minutes later, he sat up straighter in his seat when his father pulled into a deserted rest stop. It was a truly miserable day; the wind whipped about like a spurned lover, and the sky was overcast and gloomy. The perfect setting for a budding family drama, Dean thought to himself sardonically.

Sometimes, it amazed him just how blind Sam and their father could be. Not once had they discussed the Wraith since that day in the hospital, and neither one of them had made any effort to extend a hand in truce. Was it possible to go insane from sheer frustration?

John parked the car and shut off the engine. Sam was determinedly looking out the window, defiance in his very posture.

Dean watched cautiously as their dad sat still for a moment, his hands restless where they rested on his thighs.

"Do you want to tell me what the hell you were thinking?" their father asked quietly.

Uh oh, Dean thought to himself. When their dad was angry and went all quiet like that it meant that they were in for a rough time. It meant that John was more furious than he had ever been before. Dean wasn't afraid to admit that he was scared. Hell, whenever their dad was that mad at him, he'd run like a scared little girl if he could. He didn't, of course. But he sure wanted to.

Sam, though, Sam was showing no signs of looking cowed. Nor afraid. Dean had to admire his balls. No one in their right minds ever defied John Winchester when he was angry. Except Sam of course.

"I asked you a question," their father's voice dropped a few octaves.

"What the hell do you care?" Sam snapped almost instantly. "It's not like you were there. You don't know what happened."

"No, I had to hear it from a police officer," John snapped back, stirring to anger almost immediately.

Dean tried to become one with the leather of the seat underneath him. He hated being the witness to these impressive displays of temper.

"Whatever," Sam muttered, slumping even further down in the seat.

"Don't whatever me, son. That was a fucking stupid thing to do, and you know it. I want to know exactly why you thought it would be okay to pull a stunt like that, especially when I wasn't around," John replied tensely.

There was silence from the back seat. Dean was staring at his hands as he listened. Within his mind he was begging with Sam to give in, to give it all up and let it go. Okay, so their father had left him. There was no way he could imagine the sense of abandonment and betrayal that had assaulted Sam's fragile mind at that time. It must have been horrible, and sometimes it make him feel physically nauseous to think about.

But that had happened months ago. And Sam wasn't even beginning to get over his ordeal. He hadn't even began to consider forgiving their dad, and while he couldn't begin to understand the way things like that left wounds and scars that could never fully be healed,

Dean just wanted it all to be over and in the past. But Sam had never done things the easy way, and it didn't look like he'd start doing so now. He always had to fight, always had to be the one to put up a fierce struggle. Dean wondered if it ever tired him as much as it did him, and he decided that it must.

"Samuel, I'm talking to you."

"Yeah? Well maybe I'm not listening. Maybe now you'll know what it feels like to be completely ignored as if you weren't even there," Sam snapped before he shoved his door open and threw himself out of the car.

Dean watched in apprehension as his baby brother stormed away, more worked up and angry than he had been witness to since the incident.

His horror mounted as his dad followed after Sam, slamming his door harder than he had thought possible. For a dreaded moment he thought that he was going after Sam to attack him or something. He found himself following, opening his own door and venturing a few tentative steps in the direction both Sam and his dad were headed.

Dean watched, torn as his father reached out and grabbed Sam's arm. Sam whirled around, wretching his arm out of their dad's grasp and shoving him roughly.

"I HATE YOU! I fucking hate you! Get the hell away from me, you...you fucking asshole!!" Sam shouted at him, shoving him again.

Dean felt his jaw drop. No one had ever had the guts to say something like that to their dad before. Hell, neither of them had ever even sworn at their father before, and now...

"Sam..." John was trying to say as he caught Sam's flying arms and tried to get him to stand still. Dean moved over to them quickly, hovering nearby, ready to step in if things got any worse.

"Sam...Sam, stop it..."

Dean was close enough to see the tears on Sam's face. Close enough to hear the sobs desperately trying to tear themselves out of his body.

"You fucking left me! You left me behind you asshole..." Sam was sobbing now still trying to push his father away. "How...How could you do that to me! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you..."

John finally managed to get Sam's gangly body under control enough to pull him close and wrap his arms around him. Sam was still struggling feebly, trying to push him away still, but John held on tightly, and pressed his face into Sam's hair. Closing his eyes as he endured Sam's struggling.

Dean finally relaxed and couldn't help the intense rush of relief that flooded him. It made him feel so giddy that he had to sit down on the rough gravel, still watching closely with an aching and bruised heart.

"I know, baby boy." John whispered almost inaudibly. "I know. I'm sorry."

Sam gave up the fight when he heard those whispered words, and collapsed onto John, giving into his hoarse sobbing and huddling in his father's arms like he had when he had been a little kid and afraid of all the big nasties out there.

"Shhhhh..."

Sam cried for what seemed like a lifetime. But then again, there was months and months of angst and anger to be purged from his system, and Dean was so glad that it was finally all out there and acknowledged that he honestly didn't mind how long it took. He sat there on the cold gravel, picking away at his nails and at the frayed hole in the knee of his jeans, listening to the soothing noises that John was making, and the sounds of grief being muffled into the solid wall that was their father.

The loss of innocence was a mourning process, Dean decided as he sat there in contemplative silence. Most people didn't notice the time when their innocence was gradually drained away from them. When children slowly become aware of the things around them, and not just their own little worlds and fantasies, that's when innocence is lost. Sam had somehow managed to maintain his for longer than he had thought possible. When it had been taken from him, it had hit him harder than it would other kids. The Wraith had stolen more than his innocence though. It had burnt holes in his trust and in his faith. It had made him doubt things that had once been certain, but the saddest thing of all, perhaps, was that it had made him doubt himself. It had made him think that he was something less than what he actually was, something unworthy or love or respect.

It was something that he would have to work back up to. It took time to learn to forgive yourself for perceived wrongs, and even longer to learn to love yourself once more. Sam would always be conflicted though, because he always had been. He was a walking contradiction, and that was a hard thing to live with.

Dean looked up to where they stood, scrutinizing them closely.

Sam had worn himself out. His cheeks were flushed, his hair mussed, and his eyes bright and red rimmed. If anything he looked impossibly young, and the bruise and split lip looked so out of place that it made Dean want to cringe. Sam's cheek was rested against their dad's chest, his eyes unfocused.

Their father had his cheek pressed to Sam's hair, his eye set on a spot on the ground in front of Dean.

He wondered what it would be like to know what they were both thinking at that moment.

"Sammy. I truly am sorry for what happened. I made some bad decisions and you paid the price for that. You'll never know how sorry I am for that," John said eventually. "You have every right to be angry at me, and I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know that. But if you're willing to try, then I'll try my best to get you though this. Deal?"

John gently pushed Sam's weight back onto his own feet once more, but kept his hands on the boys shoulders.

Sam looked up at him, chewing his lip and still looking hopelessly endearing.

"I don't hate you dad," he whispered, looking down at his scuffed sneakers. "Deal."

John smiled, and pulled him close with a hand on the back of neck. Close enough to press a rough kiss to his forehead.

"I'm proud of you, son."

Those words meant more to Sam than anything else, Dean knew. And he knew that it was the thing he needed the most to be able to start trying to heal himself. Dean found himself grinning a ridiculously huge grin as his heart filled to the brim with happiness, and relief and all those things that made him feel all squishy inside. Heh. He really was turning into one big marshmallow.

Sam's eyes were brimming with tears when he heard that, but he quickly raised a hand and wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his jumper before smiling at their dad.

"Thanks dad."

John nodded. "I meant what I said Sammy. Whatever you think you need to help you get through this, you just have to say. Got it, kiddo?"

Sam nodded wordlessly and the oldest Winchester threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into his side. Sam seemed to fit there like he was made for it. It was a great comfort to Dean to see them together like that. It was such a rarity that he wished he had a camera.

John looked down at him.

"Why are you sitting there grinning like a loon? Get your ass up, dude. We're gonna go get pancakes for breakfast."