And we've reached the end. Thank you all for sticking with the story and reading along through all the ups and downs of my writing. And thank you especially to all those who took the time to review and let me know what you thought as we went on this little journey.

I have been replying to all the reviews and I'm sure you'll get them in a few weeks. :-p

For Spuffyshipper who I can't reply to: Thanks for the review and I agree- poor Sam and poor Dean. At least they can relax now (well, if you don't count their life long demon hunt).

As for this chapter, well, as it happened, a new muse came upon me and well, I ended up writing something that was COMPLETELY uncharacteristic of me. Which is okay, it's nice to change things up every now and then. Hopefully you will all like it even though it's light on the Sam angst. I also threw in some Season 2 themes which I've been actively avoiding throughout the story.

Chapter 12: Death of a Feeder

Sam pulled into the motel parking lot with an abrupt stop. Throwing the car into park, he immediately pulled out his gun and cautiously limped over to the window of his room. As desperate as he was to get to his brother, he still needed to handle the situation correctly. It couldn't help Dean if he ran into the situation blind.

The motel parking lot was quiet, as it had been for several days. Sam was fairly sure that there were no other guests staying in the surrounding rooms, which was a reassuring thought. Not having to explain the sound of gunshots would mean one less thing to worry about.

Crouching under the motel window, Sam could make out the sound of his brother's voice. The window was closed and therefore, Sam was unable to make out the words his brother was saying. Fortunately, however, the walls were thin enough for Dean's tone to come through. Sam felt his body stiffen at Dean's voice. Dean sounded defeated. It was a sound he had heard only a select number of times throughout his life and every one of those occasions had been painfully burned into Sam's memory.

In an effort to gather more information, Sam attempted to look through the window. On the inside, the gap between the curtains was just big enough for Sam to ascertain his brother's position and estimate, based on where Dean was looking, where the hallucination was. Dean was sliding down the wall, opposite the window. He was openly crying and his eyes held a depth of despair that Sam had never before witnessed in his brother. The site of Dean made Sam's heart drop and immediately a fierce protectiveness and outrage surged through Sam's body.

It was one thing for the Feeder to cause him to despair, but nothing…NOTHING did that to Dean- not while Sam was still breathing. Not waiting any longer, Sam stood up and quickly opened the motel door.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean look up at the door, clearly startled by Sam's appearance. The hallucination wasn't visible to Sam, but he took the shot anyway, trying to gauge where the hallucination was based on where Dean had been staring.

The shot met its mark and a loud screech filled the room. Sam had only moments to process the now visible image of their father, burnt and clearly tortured. The Feeder had appeared, it's mouth covering Dean's ear, neck, and shoulder, much as it had done to Sam. Sam wasted no more time and quickly shot the leech.

The Feeder exploded upon the bullet's impact, sending flaming pieces of its flesh throughout the motel room. Obviously, the tears of despair had been the missing ingredient.

A large portion of the Feeder remained intact during its explosion and was flopping about the room as it slowly burned. Fury flowed through Sam's body, starting in his chest and spreading outward through his arms, legs, and head. The sight of Dean, broken by a creature that Sam should have killed days ago, evaporated any self-control or compassion that Sam had. He eyed the pain-filled flopping mass with no trace of sympathy. Slowly limping up to the flailing leech, Sam leveled his gun. With hatred in his eyes, Sam shot the Feeder remains repeatedly- using the last three bullets. He watched with satisfaction as the creature exploded three more times, screeching in pain and leaving nothing but flaming piles of ash…NOTHING hurt his brother.

In a somewhat out of body experience, Sam looked down at himself and his current position; it wasn't like him. Briefly he wondered when he had become Dean. He shook his head, remembering the incident with the Striga where Dean had shot the witch that had attacked Sam several more times after the creature was already dead. So this was what it felt like to be on Dean's end. Sure, he had saved Dean's ass before. Sure, he had killed evil before. But usually when he saved Dean's ass, they then killed the evil together. For Sam to do both on his own was a rarity and the feeling of protectiveness it evoked made Sam understand his brother considerably more.

Shaking himself from introspection, Sam returned to the situation at hand- Dean…

"Dean? You okay?"

Dean sat with his back to the wall, knees drawn up to his chin and arms around his knees; his head was down. Ignoring the flames for the moment, Sam moved closer to his brother, touched his back, and tried again, "Dean?"

Dean's head stayed down, but he lifted his hand in a thumb's up sign. Sam smiled. Apparently he wasn't the only one who was remembering that night with the Striga. He had no idea why that night, but both of their minds had gone there- although they had taken on each other's roles.

Assured that Dean was okay for the moment, Sam limped out of the room and retrieved the fire extinguisher from the car. Hurrying back to the room, Sam quickly doused all the flaming remains with the white foam. Within seconds, the fire was out. The Feeder's remains had all burned to ashes, mingling with the charred remains of carpet, duvet, and upholstery. They were going to need to skip out during the night- or pay a lot of money in motel damages.

Sam threw down the fire extinguisher and limped his way back to his brother. Sam crouched down next to him; Dean was still in the same position. Throwing caution to the wind, Sam put his arm around his brother, giving him a half hug. Dean didn't fight the support, but remained in his contracted position; a sign to Sam that his brother had not been left unharmed by the Feeder's attack. Rarely did Dean accept any form of comfort- especially physical. After a few moments, Sam stepped back, leaving one arm across his brother's back, and putting a hand on his brother's good arm. "Dean?"

Sam heard Dean take in a breath, although his head remained down. Sam knew the feelings that the Feeder evoked and it literally hurt Sam to know that Dean was in that pain. Sam remembered the tortured image of their father, the image that Dean had hallucinated. Dean had been through enough without the added warped hallucination. Sam turned back to his brother, "Dean? It's dead."

Dean's head lifted at that statement and Sam saw the tears and the red rims around his brother's eyes. Sam involuntarily tightened his grip on his brother's arm. Dean didn't look at Sam, but stared straight ahead at the charred areas of the room. Then he spoke through his tears, "That thing sucks."

Sam laughed. He couldn't help but think that Dean should get an award for understating things. "Yeah…it does. Hey…you want me to resurrect it and kill it again for you?"

Dean laughed, uncurling himself. His knees remained up, but he released himself enough to sit back against the wall and wipe his eyes and nose with his arm. Finally, he looked at his brother. Sam kept his hand on Dean's arm and smiled gently at him. Dean smiled back, "Nice job." He nodded at the blackened room.

Sam agreed, "Yeah. So…how'd I do for my first solo hunt?"

Dean wiped his eyes again before answering, "Not bad. How'd you figure out it was here…and why the hell was it here?"

"Well, when it wasn't at the construction site, I figured it was probably somewhere else. I followed its trail with a blacklight. It hitched a ride in the Impala."

Dean's face grew severe and his voice lowered, "It was in my car…"

Sam's hand rubbed his brother's shoulder, "Relax Dean. Remember what this thing does to blood pressure."

Dean waved him off, "It's only been feeding off me for like a half hour. It fed off you what? Six- seven hours?"

"The first night?" Dean nodded. Sam continued, "First night it fed for eight hours. Still…do me a favor and relax for now…please."

Dean nodded and allowed Sam to help him stand up. Then Dean gave his brother a surveying look, "You okay?"

Sam smiled, "Fine. You took the brunt this time."

Dean scowled and with Sam's support, slowly made his way to the bed. "I don't remember that being part of the plan Sammy."

Sam helped his brother lay down on the bed, "Sorry bout that."

Dean rolled his eyes as he laid back. Then he looked at his brother, "Thanks Sammy. For saving my life…and ending…" he nodded towards the area where the hallucination had been, "that."

Sam shook his head, "Don't." Then he laughed, "Now I only owe you about 300 more rescues…"

Dean closed his eyes and smiled, "More like 3000."

Sam lightly punched his brother's arm, "Ass."

"Jerk."

Sam smiled and began his attempt at cleaning the room as best he could. His first solo hunt was complete and for the most part, he had been successful. He couldn't say that it had gone without a hitch as there had been many stumbling blocks (some literal) along the way- but in the end, he had hunted and defeated the evil creature.

He was happy to know that he could do it. He was confident now that if the need presented himself, he could hunt solo. Ultimately, he was glad to have had the experience, but there was no way in HELL that he would EVER willingly do that again. And suddenly, with more clarity than ever before, Sam understood Dean's anger and hurt at his leaving for Stanford. Hunting solo sucked…and Sam remembered the conversation he had with his brother when Dean first arrived at his college apartment:

"I can't do this alone."

"Yes you can."

"Yeah. Well, I don't want to."

And that had been the honest truth. Dean could have done it alone, but he didn't want to- no one would. Once again Sam bit back his guilt at having ignorantly abandoned his brother. He hadn't known how much harder…or lonelier it was hunting solo. And his solo hunt was with Dean standing by his side. Sam shook his head and walked back to where Dean lay sleeping.

Touching his brother's hand, Sam returned to his brother the words Dean had issued to him fourteen years ago at the end of Sam's first hunt, "From now on, when we hunt…you and I always stay together."

Believing his brother to be asleep, Sam was startled when Dean smiled and opened his eyes, "Wise words. I think I heard them somewhere before. Clearly they came from someone who was incredibly intelligent and wise beyond his years."

Sam couldn't help but think that was true, Dean had always been wise beyond his years. It was one of the many reasons that Sam had always looked up to Dean. But there was no need to tell Dean that…rolling his eyes, Sam quipped back at his brother, "As I remember it…it was that same incredibly intelligent person who was the one who originally suggested that we hunt solo in this town."

Dean's reaction surprised Sam as his brother's face quickly filled with pain and regret. Sam shook his head at his brother, confused, "Joke Dean…"

Dean paused before responding to his brother, "Did you see the hallucination?"

Sam grew even more confused, but nodded, "Yeah…I shot where it looked like you were looking and I saw da- uh…the hallucination."

Dean closed his eyes, clearly assaulted by the memory of the image and then shook his head, "No, man. The other hallucination."

Sam stepped back and then sat on the edge of his brother's bed. "No. There were two?"

Dean opened his eyes, staring at Sam. "The other was you. Your ghost. The hunt went bad. You blamed me for suggesting the solo hunts to begin with."

Sam cringed, that explained Dean's reaction to his joke. Wanting to help his brother, Sam began to reassure him, "Dean…" but Dean cut him off, "Don't. I know, okay. It's just…it felt real." Dean shook his head and repeated himself, "Don't…" Then he looked Sam in the eye, "I know."

Sam patted his brother's arm and stood up. "You need anything?"

Dean shrugged, "Smell kinda has me in the mood for barbeque."

Sam made a face, "There's something wrong with you, you know that?"

Dean folded his hands behind his head, trying to appear innocent. "What?"

Sam glared and stood up, resuming his attempts to clean the room.

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Dean watched his brother limp around the room. The hallucination had shaken him- badly. Dean found himself for not the first time, admiring his brother's strength. Dean felt wiped and distressed after just a half hour with the Feeder. Yet Sam had survived an eight hour encounter with the creature, then faced it again, survived another encounter, and then still had the strength and courage to go back a third time. Dean couldn't imagine the pain of spending one hour with the Feeder, much less eight.

Sammy was an amazing person and Dean smiled as he remembered his brother storming into the room and saving his ass. From his defeated position on the side of the room, Dean had watched Sam attack the hallucination and then kill the Feeder. The look on Sam's face, the protectiveness, the anger, the determination- they were looks Dean knew well and Dean didn't have to guess where Sam had learned them from. Their father had passed those looks down to Dean and apparently, Dean had passed them along to Sam…or maybe Sam had picked them up from their father as well. Either way, it had been interesting to be on the other side, the one watching, rather than giving the looks.

Dean was proud of his brother. He still wasn't sure if he should have suggested the solo hunts to begin with. And he knew he shouldn't have suggested that Sam hunt solo for the original reasons that he had, but in the end, it may not have been an all bad suggestion. Sam was clearly more confident than he had been before and based on Sam's 'we stay together' comment, it was clear that Sam had learned and grown with this hunt…and he wasn't the only one.

Dean had learned and grown as well. It hadn't been easy to put aside his protectiveness and allow Sam to finish the hunt after he had been hurt. If Sam had seen Dean pacing the room after he had left tonight, he would've had enough fodder to mock Dean with for the rest of his life. Dean had been a nervous wreck. He couldn't sit still, he had looked out the window at least 200 times, he had bitten all of his nails down below the skin line, and ran through a series of mental horrific outcomes that would have led to Sam's death…and that was probably what had made him a prime victim for the Feeder.

He still couldn't believe the Feeder had hitched a ride to the motel. What were the chances of that? With a horrifying thought, Dean sat up- too quickly and the room spun. He put his hand on his head as he waited for the dizziness to pass and felt Sam appear at his side.

"What's wrong? Lie down."

The dizziness abating, Dean shook his head and slowly stood up. Sam worked against him, "Dean. Lie down. What are you doing? What do you need?"

Dean spoke to his brother as he put on his jacket, "That thing was in my car Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes looking somewhat annoyed, "What are you kidding? Dean. Lie back down. Where the hell are you going?"

Dean walked his way to the door, "Where the hell do you think I'm going? I'm not letting that piece of crap's blood- or whatever- soak into my seats another minute."

Sam limped after his brother, "Dean. Stop. I'll do it." Outside the motel, Sam stopped in front of his brother, "I'll clean the car Dean. Okay? Just do me a favor and relax for a while?"

Dean nodded, "Fine, man. You can do it." Then walked over to a bench along the outside of the motel and sat facing the Impala.

Sam threw up his hands, exasperated, "Now what are you doing?"

Dean looked up and motioned to the car, "Dude…I'm waiting for you to start cleaning."

"You're going to watch?"

Dean shook his head and corrected him, "Supervise."

Sam took a calming breath, "You trust me to hunt on my own, but not clean the Impala's seats…"

Dean nodded, "Damn straight. Now are you gonna clean them or what?" Sam stared at his brother in disbelief.

Finally Dean broke the stare, pointing at the car. "Soaking Sam…evil blood soaking into the leather…infecting it with its evil aura…"

"Okay, okay." Sam held up his hands to stop his brother's tirade. Closing his eyes and breathing deep, he shook his head. Dean could really try his patience. He walked towards the car and gathered cleaning supplies from the trunk. "I'm cleaning. Okay?"

Dean smiled in smug approval. This was the way it should be. Dean sitting back, supervising, while Sam cleaned for him…just like old times. Sam may have saved his life tonight and Sam may have grown into a skilled hunter, but Dean had a responsibility. He couldn't have all that going to Sammy's head. After all, Dean was still the big brother and no matter how independent, competent, experienced, or knowledgeable Sammy got- he still had his place…

I know- Dean angst- go figure. Hopefully it was okay. Thank you again to everybody who stuck with this story. Hopefully it was wirth the effort and the ending didn't disappoint. And thank you for all the reviews and support- this is such a fabulous community...