Author's Notes: Good news! I've finished the story! I know, surprising, right? But, I did. After seeing the first episode, it got me right back running again to finish it up. I wrote the rest of the story out in the expanse of about a week. Which is good, because school has started, and I've got five classes, and will be majorly busy.

A note, though. Those who have read from the beginning might remember reading me saying that I had the entire plot line for the story done out already before I started writing. This is still true. Unfortunately, what's gone on in the show is...surprisingly similar to what I had planned out way back in July/August. This was before anything even about season 4 came out--I also don't read spoilers because I don't want to spoil myself! So, bear with me. My story runs a fine line parallel to what Kripke's got going for season 4. You'll see what I mean as things come up. At any rate, please enjoy :)

Don't forget to review! :D

"Dean, what's wrong?"

Sam had never seen his brother look so shaken up with so little provocation. Facing demons wasn't—nor had it ever been—an issue for Dean. From the earliest time he could remember, Sam had always seen his brother with a strong will to fight and protect. If he ever showed fear, it was through entirely different means. These kinds of actions were not only strange, but they were completely unlike him.

"Nothing," Dean replied quickly, dismissively. He gave a full body shake and muttered something about it being cold inside the bar, but Sam actually felt quite the opposite.

Without really thinking about it, Sam reached out and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. He was more than a little surprised when the other suddenly jerked almost violently, pulling back and looking at Sam like he was some kind of monster.

"Sorry," he apologized immediately. Dean still looked fearful, but he shook his head and sniffed deeply. "I just…"

"Dean. Seriously, what's going on?"

When his brother went quiet again, Sam wanted to insist that he be told what was wrong. But why he had been so blind to it in the first place, he didn't know. He realized that these were the first demons that Dean had come across since having come back from Hell. The fear that he felt wasn't unfounded; if anything, it was fully founded.

Sam let out a breath slowly through his nose. "Oh."

Dean gave no verbal sign that Sam was, in fact, right in his assumption. Instead he just shifted almost uncomfortably on his feet, looking at his younger brother tiredly. He grunted quietly. Then: "We'll need to get out of here as quickly as possible."

"Do you think any of them are still alive?"

"Can't be sure. But, that's not our concern right now. Nearly a dozen demons just tried to attack us, so we've got to get out and back to Bobby's where we can arm ourselves properly."

While Sam could agree, he really wanted to stay and talk about what had happened. This was a good in, and even if he felt weird thinking it, Dean was emotionally unstable currently—his walls were down. This would be the perfect time to breech the subject of Hell again. But their safety came first. They needed to get back to Bobby's.

"Come on, let's go," Dean insisted.

Sam didn't hesitate or make a move to linger. He followed his brother out to the car, where he proceeded to briefly argue with him about who was going to drive. When the argument elevated to too high of a level too quickly, Sam backed down, allowing Dean to drive them back. It only took a few minutes, and both were quiet the entire car ride. When they pulled into Bobby's driveway Sam cleared his throat, but still said nothing.

That silence continued all the way to their walking through the front door. It was only when Bobby—who was making his way down the stairs—stopped and greeted them, that the two of them said something. Granted, it wasn't anything beyond a hello, but it was more than previous.

"What's got you two so somber?" Bobby asked, half joking, but half serious.

"You got all the windows and doors salted, right?" Dean asked.

Bobby snorted. "What, you think I wouldn't?"

"We were attacked at the bar, Bobby," Sam announced.

What he said changed the entire ambiance of the room. The oldest hunter looked somewhat surprised at first, but his expression soon hardened. "Attacked, huh?" He shook his head. "M'not entirely surprised…" Sam shot Bobby a very firm glare, but it didn't stop him from going further. "With all those demons out there that haven't seen hide nor tail of either of you for some time, it's not unexpected. Plus, Dean, you were supposed to be in Hell. It's been…what, nearly two weeks since you got out of there? Demons everywhere will probably be looking for you both."

Anxiety racked Sam's insides. He had dodged another bullet, yet again, but he was getting tired of having to do so. Not only that, but he was tired of the up and down roller coaster ride that was his emotions, of trying to keep his composure. Overall, he was just tired. But how was he going to approach all of this while still trying to get Dean to tell him about what happened down in Hell?

"You can both stay here as long as you want," Bobby offered. "But tonight, I've got something I have to do. I was just on my way out."

"Hunting?" Dean asked, sounding almost worried.

"Something like that. More recon than anything else. I'll be back later tonight. Now, you boys stay out of trouble. Don't go anywhere. You know you're safe here." Pocketing something he had in his hand, Bobby then moved between the two and past them, heading for the front door. Before he left, he turned to them and said, "Got my cell if you need to call or anything."

And with that said, Bobby was gone, the front door shutting behind him. Sam turned to Dean, who was looking toward the door with an unreadable expression on his face. When he faced his younger brother, it disappeared.

"Bobby's got some beer in the fridge, doesn't he?" Dean asked. Just as he was about to pull away, Sam reached out and gripped his wrist. It stopped the older one, who looked down, then back up again.

"Dean, we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about, Sam," Dean said dismissively. "Now come on, let's go get some drinks. We intended to get drunk tonight, and I, for one, plan on keeping that intention." He tried to move again but Sam tightened his grip, which made Dean furrow his brow and open his mouth in disbelief. He gave a disagreeing sound. "Sam."

"Dean, no," Sam said sternly. "Listen, you froze up back there, and I know why."

"Do you, Sam?" Dean gave a harsh tug to pull his wrist away from the other's grip. He sounded agitated, and certainly looked it. "Huh? Do you? Why, then? Why'd I freeze up?"

Sam was bound and determined not to get worked up about this. For a moment he said nothing, but then, calmly, almost in that painfully psychiatrist-like voice, he said, "Those…were the first demons you've seen since you came back from Hell. I don't blame you for being scared."

"I wasn't scared," Dean grumbled.

"Like hell you weren't, Dean! You were shaking like a leaf. I've never seen you act like that before."

"I was not!"

"Dean!"

"Fine!" Dean shouted. "Fine! Whatever! I was shaking like a leaf! I was scared! What the hell's it matter, anyway, Sam? You said you understood! That you don't blame me! If you don't, tell me why the fuck you're pushing so hard on this!"

Sam tensed up at the way his brother shouted. But, he kept his calm as best he could. It took an unsurprising amount of willpower. He took a deep breath. "Because, Dean. It's like Bobby said: demons are gonna be coming after us, and it isn't going to be pretty. I need to know if you need more time to be okay with all of this."

"I was never okay with all of this!" Dean admitted abruptly. It confused Sam, who looked at him with uncertainty. "I wasn't okay with it," the older one repeated, but more firmly than loudly this time.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm supposed to be dead, Sam! I'm not supposed to be here right now, talking with you, standing in this room, being able to move around freely like this." Dean took a brief walk around the small entryway, stopping by his brother. "This isn't…how it's supposed to be."

"Screw 'supposed to be'!" Sam suddenly barked. His tone managed to even make Dean stiffen up. "I couldn't break your contract like I promised, Dean! Do you know how horrible that was? How horrific it was to try and deal with all of that? And try and find a way to save you? I thought about doing a deal, I really did! But what I did was—" He stopped himself, willing himself to calm down. "I did something that…"

But he couldn't continue. There was no way of saying what he needed to next without fully admitting what he had done to save his brother. And screw it all, Sam thought. It was going to come out eventually. It might as well have been when he was worked up enough not to care as much. Dean looked at him expectantly.

"I opened the Devil's Gate myself and brought you back," he admitted. "I need you."

Dean made a face, almost as if he didn't believe what Sam had said. "Sam, there's no way you could have opened that gate. There just isn't. Plus, how would you even close it if you did open it?" Sam looked at his brother openly, and this made the older one's face fall. It was clear that the message got across, and that Dean wasn't quite sure how to react to it. In fact, his face soon became blank.

"Dean—"

"Sam, don't." The older Winchester shook his head and held up his hand warningly when the younger one attempted to approach him. "Just…don't." The way he was acting was a clear indication that he understood the underlying, hidden message behind this entire conversation. He took a step back and almost refused to look at Sam, which felt like a gunshot to the latter's heart.

"Dean," he said again, but quieter.

"No."

To Sam's surprise, though he felt certain disappointment and fear that his brother might now hate him, there was a righteous sense of anger inside of him, as well. Dean didn't know the hell that he had gone through—trying to preserve his body, and trying to work with his powers so that he could save him. Didn't know about the sleepless nights, the horrible dreams, or the sickness his little brother felt over the whole thing. Sam had figuratively gone to Hell and back to get everything set up so that he could bring his brother back, and now, Dean was acting like none of that mattered. He was acting disgusted and scared, neither of which the younger one appreciated.

He set his jaw tightly.

"I wondered why the demons couldn't move before you started the exorcism," Dean said slowly, almost disdainfully. "Why they were saying what they did. I can't believe you, Sam. Why?"

"Because without them, Dean, you would have been in Hell for God only knows how long."

"Who even told you that your powers would save me after—" but Dean stopped as the sudden realization of who it was dawned upon him. He looked completely flabbergasted, a look which soon morphed into near revulsion. "You are fucking kidding me. Were you seriously that desperate?"

Sam didn't like the tone that Dean was using with him, and that, coupled with the way he was acting, sent the younger one over the edge. He couldn't be calm about this any more. Not with that attitude, and most certainly not with that complete disregard for how difficult it had all been for him.

"How could I, Dean? How could I not stand by and let you stew in the fine pit of Hell? How come I listened to the one person who said she could save your life, and who ended up being right? You were dead!" Sam was shouting now, his voice hitting levels it hadn't in quite some time. He threw his hands up in the air. "So forgive me if I was so desperate that I was willing to take a chance on something that could work soon instead of waiting for months for one of Bobby's possible leads! Forgive me for wanting to stop you from having to suffer eternal hellfire and torture! Excuse me for fucking caring about your soul!"

"At least Bobby's leads don't include you going to the Dark Side!" Dean countered.

"The Dark Side?" Sam scoffed. "God, Dean, do you—you don't get it! Do I look like I've gone to the Dark Side to you? Do I look like I'm going around, being all demonic? No!" He pulled away from the landing of the staircase and headed toward the archway of the sitting room with the fireplace. "I worked so god damned hard on this. And do you know the torture I went through? The fear I felt, thinking I was gonna become some evil being just because I was learning to control powers that I got from some creepy ass demon, and that I didn't even want in the first place?!"

While Sam continued to shout and rant, Dean stared at him, nearly gawking. But he didn't interrupt, because it was clear that the younger Winchester had a lot on his chest that needed to come out, and breaking his momentum would likely be dangerous.

"I was—I was so scared that something was gonna happen," Sam continued, quieter than before, "So scared that I was gonna lose my humanity, or that I was gonna kill someone, or even myself. But I didn't. I didn't. I prayed every damn night that things would be all right, and that you were doing okay. I felt horrible, because I was the reason you were there in the first place."

"Sam," Dean interrupted, despite his better judgment. He stepped closer to his brother, but it was Sam's turn to hold up a warning hand.

"No, Dean, don't. You asked why, you're getting why. Now listen." When Dean shut up again, the younger one went off once more. "So, yeah, it might have not been the best way to go about saving you, but it sure as hell worked. Not to mention that in the process, not only did I get back the Colt, but I managed to figure out a way to scare the crap out of Lilith, too."

Dean suddenly cleared his throat. "Wait."

"What?"

"If you opened the Devil's Gate again, then you released another buttload of demons, didn't you?" Dean pointed accusingly at his brother. "God damn it, Sam! I'm not worth that!"

"Yes you ARE!"

Sam's sudden barking yell made Dean wince. Silence fell upon them after that. For one, Dean was still shocked by the outburst, and two, Sam didn't know what else to say that would make the situation any better. They simply stared at one another for a good few moments before finally, the younger hunter moved closer to his brother.

He stared down at him and sighed. "You're my brother, Dean. It's like I told you. I would do anything to save you. Just like you did for me."

Dean looked like he wanted to say something, but he set his jaw and kept silent. He sighed in that way he always did—just a little one, followed by the pursing of his lips—before he just nodded, almost as if he were giving in.

"There's gotta be another way to get Lilith," he murmured. "You still have Ruby's dagger, right?"

"No," Sam admitted. "Somebody stole it from Ruby, and—"

"Why does she have it?" Dean asked.

Sam's tone grew quicker as he ended his sentence, as he saw the frustration in his brother's eyes. "Because it was what she wanted in return for teaching me how to save you!"

"And you gave it to her? Sam!"

"Dean! We've been over this! I'd do anything to save you. I didn't even hesitate, because you—"

"Yeah, well, look where it got us now," Dean muttered without even letting the other finish.

"Whatever," Sam quipped. "All that matters is that you're here, now. Getting it back won't be any harder than getting the Colt back. If I can do that, I can get the damn knife back."

The older Winchester parted his lips to say something, but nothing came out. He had a frustrated look on his face, like he was struggling to say something, only he couldn't get it to surface. Instead he just gave a grunt. And in a move somewhat unlike him, he said, "Fine."

Sam, of course, knew what 'fine' meant. He knew when Dean gave in like that, that he was simply doing it because he was tired of arguing and would bring it up later when he was refreshed. It would just be thrown on the pile of things that needed to be talked about.

Like questioning Dean about Hell. Now had been the perfect time, but Sam lost it, and now he regretted it. He didn't know when another opportunity like previous one would arise again, if it ever even did. He could have cursed himself.

Dean tugged at the sides of his jacket briskly. "I still want that beer."

Sam said nothing, but gestured toward the kitchen. When his brother walked past him he watched him carefully, trying to cool down the anger that was burning inside of him.

. . .

"Got everything?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam grunted, hoisting their last bag of belongings into the impala.

Things between them after the fight had been more or less tense, despite the fact that neither of them brought it back up again. Only a day had passed since then and the two Winchesters decided—or rather, Dean decided and Sam simply went along with it like he always did—that they were going to leave and get back on the saddle. Bobby, who was standing beside the car watching the two of them, was none the wiser about what had taken place between them. And to them, it was better that way.

"Sure you wanna leave so soon?" Bobby asked, an eyebrow raised.

"We got lots of damage control still to do," Dean explained. He clasped his hands together. "Better to get it done and out of the way now than to let it fester, right?"

"Spoken like a true hunter."

Dean smiled, although Sam didn't figure it was because he appreciated what Bobby said. Though things were still tense between him and the older hunter, Sam still gave Bobby a hug. He had helped a lot in spite of everything that had happened.

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam said upon pulling back.

A somewhat surprised look took over Bobby's face. "You're welcome, Sam." Dean then hugged him, and he cleared his throat. "You boys keep in contact, all right? I ain't goin' anywhere."

"We'll keep you updated," Dean said. He gripped the handle on his door, hesitating momentarily on opening it. "Stay out of trouble," he added with a grin.

Bobby smirked. "Aren't I the one who should be sayin' that?"

"Bye, Bobby," Sam said.

"Bye, Dean, Sam. You two be careful."

Their response was automatic. "We will."

As they got into the impala, Sam found himself once again suffering from that obnoxious sense of anxiety. Everything on the surface seemed fine. But he knew that just below it lay any number of problems. Bobby was probably going to keep tabs on him whenever he could, and he knew for a fact that Dean was. Both were angry with him for the way he had gone about saving his brother, but he didn't see himself as being fully responsible for the blame. He had done what anybody in his position would have done: he found the quickest way to save his loved one from suffering. His righteous sense of brotherhood was keeping him from seeing their side of the story, what they thought should have been done.

But honestly, he didn't care.

Dean turned over the ignition and the impala roared to life. Rock music instantly began to blast from the speakers, and even though Sam was worried, it melted quickly away. Everything felt right again.

Dean pulled out of Bobby's driveway and paused just long enough to shift gears and take one last look at the Singer household. Sam looked, too, but his lasted much shorter than Dean's. He felt conflicted about leaving. Doing so meant leaving behind safety and comfort. But, it also meant being back on the road and going after Lilith and her hoards of demons, which would effectively do wonders for the world. That desire had never changed inside Sam. Demon hunting would remain a priority. He had absolutely no intention of joining their ranks.

He had a feeling that Dean would fight to the death against that, anyways.

That amusing thought made Sam smile faintly, although it probably shouldn't have. He gave Bobby's house one final look before Dean began driving off, taking them God knew where.

But they were together again. That was all that mattered. Any problems they would face, be they personal, supernatural or familial, they would get through them together.

They always had, and Sam was sure they always would.