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Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story. There will be a maximum of four chapters after this chapter, then we come to the end of the line.

Dean just smiled up at his father, contentment shining through those beautiful eyes. Sam stood there in the shadows, still frozen to his place, unable to move because of the shocked tremors coursing through his body. Dad? Dad was back here? How is that even possible? His father, alive and beautiful, larger than life, smiling back at Dean. Looking so happy that Sam was still wondering what became of the serious-faced ex-military man who raised his sons to be soldiers.

Sam wanted to burst through the bushes, screaming that it could not be his Dad, he was so scared for Dean, Dad was dead, but Dean looked so happy that he hesitated slightly. Dean would have known if this wasn't his dad, Dean always knew. He knew the man better than anyone in this world did. Oh God, he was so confused, his head started aching like crazy. Pushing away the pain, he decided that this would be a good moment to make his presence known.

Drawing in a deep breath, he walked forward with hesitant steps, toward the little company of people that were his family, his life. His everything. He didn't understand what was going on, but the most important thing was that he be there with his family. He had run away from them time and time again, trying to shield them from a phantom danger that twisted his days with fear and dread. But now, he just wanted to feel his father's arms around him, telling him it would be okay. Dean would comfort him, his very presence soothing. Bobby would probably murmur 'idjits' and make them lunch. He ached for all of those things from the very bottom of his soul.

Dean was the first one to take any notice of him. He stiffened, stretching his body unconsciously toward Sam, looking unsure and confused. Sam smiled at him, his Dean was here at last, but the smile faded into confusion too. Suddenly, he found himself looking down the wrong end of a gun, his eyes followed the line of the strong arm holding it and resting on Dean's face. Something was really wrong. Dean's eyes were filled with... hate. There was no other word for it. Hate seeped from every fibre of his being.

Sam's confusion suddenly turned to terror. He was not afraid for his own life, far from it. But Dean, his Dean, was he looking at Sam? Sam felt his heart start to tear ever so slowly, leaking the life blood away from every nerve and sinew. Dean was looking at him, naked disgust in his eyes. Dean was holding a gun to his head. Dean hated him. Dean hated Sammy.

"Dad! The freak's back. Why in the hell doesn't he leave us alone? Why does he keep following us? Look, Sam, we are not going to hunt you down. We are letting you go scot free, for the simple reason that you were my brother once. But you can't keep running around us, trying to kill us one way or another. Touch Bobby or dad and your body will hit the ground before you say dingo, demon freak!"

The blood rushing through his head hardly made the words audible, but with it came the complete destruction of any hope he had left. What? Demon? He was not a demon! Couldn't Dean see? He was Dean's little brother, Daddy's little boy, Bobby's ardent geek. Demon?

The pain he felt when the trigger was pulled and the bullet lodged in his shoulder could not cover even an iota of the pain his heart felt as it shattered to pieces. As he fell into blackness, the only thing he could feel aside from the pain was the phantom touch of a gentle hand against his forehead.

Bobby watched in terror as Sam suddenly started jerking in his arms, his arms and legs splaying around in a disjoint fashion, the stitches holding his tattered body together reopening, blood starting to seep back out of the wounds and mar the pale skin again. Dean rushed to Bobby, his eyes going wild as he started to yell out, "Sam, snap out of it! You're safe, you're here, you're with me. Sam, Sammy, please!"

The desperation in his voice seemed to be the end to the moment that left them with their hearts thudding and their breaths hitching. Dean swiped his finger gently over Sam's forehead, a gesture of tenderness that surprised even him, feeling the absolute need to protect his brother combined with the agony of helplessness to do anything. His eyes traveled down the blood soaked body and he pushed back the tears pricking at his eyelids, begging for release. Not yet.

The determination in Dean suddenly grew to an infinite level. Sitting up straight on the floor and reaching up with his arms, he hauled Sam's mauled body into his lap and cradled the shaggy mop of hair against his chest. Bobby refrained from saying anything, warning himself that arguing with Dean when he was in this mood would just end in more disaster. Silently, he placed the first aid kit near Dean's knee, and was rewarded with a watery smile.

He watched as Dean slowly set to the task of stitching Sam up again, soothing the gaping woulds beneath his fingers, tears hitting Sam's bare chest as he tried to choke them away while patching up his little brother. Sammy was never meant to be seen like this. It tore Dean to pieces to see what he had done to Sam. It was because of his deal that Sam had done this, and though Dean did not regret making the deal, he regretted not being there for Sam when he had needed him most, pushing him to take the extreme measure of destroying himself to save his brother.

It took him a long time to finish the careful stitching he was intent on, the weight of his brother's body resting on his knees, the usually vivid eyes now clowdy and dim. As he watched Sam staring blankly at the ceiling, he sent a prayer to God asking him for his baby brother. God, I just want Sam back. Nothing else. Nothing else. Save my brother.

Gripping his brother tight against him, Dean let his sorrow flow out in a torrential flood of sobbing, while Sam's vacant eyes stared unseeingly into his own world.

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