Hello dear readers...the boys are back for this chapter...hope you enjoy! As always, your input is needed and always welcome...remember, spoilers for all.

Disclaimer: No, not mine...sad...

Sam awoke slowly, his mind wishing to hold on to sleep while his body demanded attention. He stretched slowly, eyes still closed, and felt a dull throb in his lower back, stopping him mid-stretch.

He heard a door open, then his brother's far too chipper greeting, "Good morning, sleeping beauty..." Dean sing-songed as he entered the room. Sam groaned quietly. "Still sleeping..." he mumbled, hand rubbing his back. "What time is it"

"Ummm...about noon..." Dean answered, almost casually, waiting for his brother's response. It took a moment, but the sudden, eyes wide open, startled expression was exactly what he expected.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam exclaimed. "Why did you let me sleep so late"

Dean shook his head slowly, "'Cause little brother, as far as I can figure, last night was the first night in over two years that I can remember you not having a nightmare..." Dean smiled as he sat down on the bed across from his brother's, "Besides, I just woke up twenty minutes ago...felt kinda nice sleeping in for once"

Sam sat up slowly, swinging his feet around to rest on the floor, wincing slightly at the movement. "Yeah, I guess...but there's a lot we need to do Dean. I can't just waste my day laying in bed..."

"Yeah, yeah Sammy, whatever you say..." Dean responded, taking in the younger man's posture. Sam looked more rested than he had the day before, but it was obvious his back was still bothering him. Although neither one would mention it yet, both wondered how long a supernaturally healed wound would take to stop aching.

Sam felt his brother's concerned gaze, his hand subconsciously leaving his lower back. "What Dean?" he sighed, standing to go take a shower.

Dean looked away, leaning down to grab his boots from under the bed. "What? Can't I just take in the glory that is you?" he asked, a tone both playful and sarcastic, as only Dean Winchester could accomplish.

"Nice Dean..." Sam replied, giving a quick smile. " But before you ask-again-I'm okay, just a little sore. I'm going to take a shower-assuming you left some hot water..." he added, leaving the room.

Dean watched his brother leave, allowing Sam's lie for the moment. Dean knew that Sam was not okay, far from it, but the sooner they faced the reality that Dean was going to be dead in one year-the sooner they could make their plan of attack for the next twelve months. As far as Dean was concerned, the fact that Sam's nightmares and visions took two days off meant that Dean had made the right choice in his deal with the crossroads demon. It seemed that with the death of old yellow eyes, the supernatural connection left as well. His little brother being alive was good enough, the fact that he may have a chance at a normal life now-that was a bonus.

Sam closed the door to the small bathroom and released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He felt tense, anxious, and if he was being truly honest with himself- a little bit annoyed. How could Dean just waste away an entire morning sleeping when they had so much research to do. Between the demons that had escaped from hell and the most crucial deadline Sam had ever faced, sleeping in was not high on his list of things to do.

He turned on the shower, and when the steam started to fog the mirror he stepped in, the warmth relaxing stiff muscles. Apparently his body was not accustomed to laying around as much as it had in the past week-or perhaps this was just a side effect of having been dead. Sam tried to force the morbid thoughts from his mind as he washed, but they were persistent. He realized that he never did think to ask how long he had actually been dead for...the question almost seemed to be in poor taste.

His head hanging between his shoulders, he braced his hands against the shower wall and let the warm water run down his back, wishing it could cleanse more than just his body. Sam couldn't shake the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him. His memories of that night were vivid-the fear he had felt as he fought Jake, not of his own death, but that Dean would arrive to find his lifeless body-or worse, not find him at all-was what kept him fighting even as he felt his shoulder dislocate and his ribs crack.

As he held the pipe, ready to strike a blow to kill, his mind raced with the possibilities of what could be if he took Jake's life, no matter how necessary. Perhaps this was what the yellow eyed demon wanted all along-baptism with demon blood, and now confirmation in the murder of a fellow chosen one-made him hesitate. When he heard Dean's voice calling his name, the fight drained out of him in his relief that his brother had found him.

Sam regretted that moment now; his hesitation cost Dean his soul, and caused more anguish than Sam could have imagined. Of all the memories from that night, of all the horror he was witness to from both the past and the present, the sound of Dean's primal cry, a combination of rage and fear, was the one thing he wished he could forget. Sam had seen Dean run to him, knew that his brother was holding him, but he couldn't feel it. Even the pain of the knife entering his back was gone, replaced with the cold numbness of paralysis. He could however hear Dean's words, like whispers on a breeze, trying to convince him to stay, making promises he couldn't keep, and Sam wanted to obey. If Sam had ever desired to do anything else as much before, he couldn't think of it. Instead, his body betrayed him; his arm refused to obey his command to return his brothers hug, his lungs refused to take in some much needed oxygen and his mouth refused to utter his last words. Instead, it gave up the fight, allowing death to steal him away from his bother.

The water started to run cool, the tears that had escaped Sam's eyes feeling warmer now than the stream from the shower. He turned it off, and took a steading breath, trying to get his emotions under control. How could he be mad at Dean for wanting a break from this madness, or for the decision he had made. In reality, would Sam had done any different if he had been in his brother's place? Sam looked at himself in the mirror, and realized the truth in his red rimmed eyes...if he could have prevented the pain his death had caused Dean, he would have. If he had been strong enough to kill Jake the first time, he could have avoided all of this. This situation was his to correct, and if he was mad at anyone, it was himself. Dean will soldier up when the time was needed, assisting his brother in righting the wrong of the deal, but if he wanted a day or two to have some down time, then who was Sam to argue. After all, he was the reason they were in this mess in the first place.

Sam dried off slowly, letting his thoughts settle on a new game plan for the moment- if Dean wanted to have a little break to take his mind off the next twelve months, then so be it. With all that he had went through, all the pain and stress that he experienced over the past week- not to mention the past year, it was the least Sam could do for his brother. Sam smiled slightly despite himself- his brother got into enough trouble as it was now, and he was supposed to be staying under the radar of all those with a badge- can the world really handle an unrestrained Dean Winchester? Maybe this plan needed a little refinement, he thought, feeling his mood lighten just a little.

Thank you once again for reading...if you can think of anything you would like to see, please drop me a line :) Until next time...

-km