The walk along the sands back toward the pier is quiet with both of the brothers thinking too hard. Sam is wondering if he can be so selfish as to ask Dean to stay; Dean wonders if he is selfish enough to leave.

Sam steers them into the Island Italian Restaurant, figuring they can eat before they head back to the house. After a brief hubbub where Sam refuses to order beer for Dean to drink, their meal orders, both placed by Sam arrive. Sam digs into his Seafood Medley, while Dean deconstructs meatballs without ever putting anything in his mouth. Sam knows; he's been paying close attention.

"So what's the deal with you, Dean? You think there's some way to fix this situation or are you giving up? Going to throw in the towel?" Sam's been chewing over what his brother said, and it still sounds like some kind of suicide. It sounds like Dean becoming something other than Dean, and Sam doesn't like it. Yeah, sometimes he wished his brother would change – glancing at him from the corner of his eye, he snorts to himself. He wishes his brother would grow up a little.

Dean's fork clatters a bit as he drops it and his pretense of eating. "I'm not hungry," Dean pushes back a little from the table and glares around the room angrily. "Sam, these people are talking about me; they're talking about the 'incident' at the high school." Dean's voice rises a little, and as much as he wants to just be angry, Sam sees a sheen of sweat break out on Dean's forehead and his face takes on a waxy tone. "I'm going to puke." He covers his mouth and heads out the door. Several pairs of eyes follow him before all their attention is taken up by a young giant who stands so fast his chair falls over. Sam glares around the room but is stopped before he can get to the door to follow his brother.

The waitress, who looks like a high school student herself, approaches Sam. "Is the kid okay? We were talking about him, I'm sorry." She fidgets a little, then says to a point about a foot beneath Sam's eyes. "Joe? And those other guys from the baseball team? They've been bad news for a while. Real bullies." She hesitates. "My Mom and Dad, over there," gesturing toward the cash register area. "They, umm, we… We were glad to see the kid looks okay." But then she forces herself to look directly at Sam. "But I know sometimes the hurt is on the inside. So, can you tell him thanks from me. He's my hero. Oh, and no charge for the meal."

When Sam heads out after his brother, wondering which way Dean bolted now, he finds his brother standing right outside in the pitted parking lot, staring off at the sunset. "Dean, damnit, you scared me." Sam manages not to be yelling as he sees his brother scrubbing at his face, but not quite managing to hide the tear tracks. He reaches to pull his brother for a hug, but Dean sidesteps him to avoid being touched. Sam's hand drops, then he motions for them to continue walking back to the house.

"They were talking about you, Dean. They were talking about how you took on a band of bullies and won. The waitress? She called you her hero. Seems you weren't the only one they'd been picking on."

Dean gives a short hiccup of a laugh. "Yeah, that's me. The big damn hero."

Sam manages to get his arm around Dean's shoulders this time, and he isn't planning to let go as the walk the mile back to the house. Inside Cas must have decided the Moore's would have to extend their piety to forgiveness because he is using four different colors of spray paint to make symbols on the outer walls and over the windows and doors. He's chanting, "I bind and reject you all spirits, and I command you to leave! I seal this place, and all its inhabitants." He barely spares a glance at them as they enter, but he growls…no words, just an angry growl.

"Umm, hello to you too, Cas," Sam says shepherding his brother into the house by refusing to let go of him.

Cas keeps chanting. "I bind and reject all spirits in the air, in the wind, in the fire, in the water, under the water, in the netherworld, in the elements and in all forces of nature."

"Sam," Cas returns "… and you, Dean Winchester."

Cas turns to glare. Then he continues his chant. "I bind and I reject all spirits of confusion, all spirits of division, all spirits of disruption, and all spirits of fear, worry, and anxiety, all spirits of disbelief, spirits of unforgiveness, resentment, and anger, spirits of deaf and dumb, spirit of disobedience, and spirit of retaliation."

"Something wrong, Cas?" Sam asks, since his brother and the angel have locked glares and no one is saying anything.

Castiel turns away from Dean to concentrate on his sigils and symbols. "I suggest you get some strong rope as your brother is quite adept at escaping handcuffs." As Dean goes to dart away, the angel uses his superhuman strength and speed to capture him.

"Sam!" Dean yells, expecting his brother to come back him up against the angel, even if it isn't very likely they can defeat him without trapping him in holy oil or stabbing him with an angel blade. What Dean doesn't expect is for Sam to be all reasonable to Cas.

"Why do you think we need to tie Dean up, Cas?"

Cas has Dean, who is still trying to kick and squirm away, held up with his arms pinned about four inches off the floor. He turns to face Sam. "He is planning to commit suicide by accepting an offer made by the Sylph."

A half-hour later, Dean is tied as comfortably as Sam could make him without giving him any leeway to escape; he is disarmed and angry. Sam is nursing a split lip where his brother head butted him during the tussle. "Sonuvabitch!" Dean is struggling against the ropes. "You frikkin' back-stabbing over-reacting idiots," Dean spits out angrily. "I swear your ass is grass as soon as I get out of these ropes." He falls quiet for a moment, then in a more reasonable tone he starts again. "You're always going on about how we should talk, Sam, but this does not make me want to talk."

"Well, Dean, since you want to talk, go for it." Sam's still nursing his split lip. "Maybe you'd like to explain why you aren't eating, not talking, running off when I confront you, and meeting the air elemental on the sly making deals."

Dean snorts. "You make it sound so planned, Sam. It's not like that."

Cas comes in from the other room where he has finished his ritual. "Then tell us how it is, Dean, I heard your prayer on the beach, the one where you prayed for death before meeting with that creature. That is not acceptable, nor do I think you are fairly categorizing what your brother said. He did not say that he wanted to leave you. Frankly, Dean, I find your contemplation of this beneath you."

"When's the last time you actually ate?" Sam demands.

"Way to come out of left field, Sam. I mean, what the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"It's a symptom, Dean! A symptom of someone who is suicidal. Like feelings of self-loathing, sleeping too much, being so quiet, refusing to talk about the incident…"

Dean interrupts, "There was no frikkin incident! He touched me or they did, so what! I did a lot worse than that myself when I was this age before – for money. I thought you understood from what Cas said. I'm not some little shrinking virgin who's never been touched, Sam. I don't have any right to act like I've got the moral high ground. I don't, okay! I never did…" He chokes up a little, takes a deep breath. "I told you I didn't want to talk about this, Sam."

Sam takes a moment to get his thoughts in order. He's not quite sure how to break through his brother's self-loathing, but, damnit, he's going to try, and this is the best time to do it. Dean has offered some insight on how he is viewing the incident, wrong-headedly, Sam thinks, but at least it's out in the open. Might as well have this out while his brother is literally a captive audience.

"Okay, there's so much wrong with what you just said, Dean, that it's going to take me a little bit to respond."

Dean groans. "Oh, God, Sam, just shoot me, please. I can't do this affirmation shit. I do not want to talk about my feelings with you." He struggles some more against the ropes and slumps, sorry he ever taught his brother how to tie a knot. "And what's your excuse, feather butt? Just seemed like a good day to ambush me?"

Castiel tilts his head at Dean. "I saw you meet the air elemental, Dean. I know what she offered you. I know that you were praying for it all to end before she appeared to you. I believe both those options are suicide; both will end your existence as a man, as a hunter, as Sam's brother." Cas looks at him intently. "And as my friend."

Sam turns to Cas. "What did she offer him? He said it was a way to make sure he never had to go back to hell."

"Technically that is correct, Sam. She offered to make him part of her, an air elemental. His spirit would join with hers and never die. But Dean, this one, would be dead. He would no longer be your brother and probably would soon forget this existence at all."

Dean's getting angry again and squirming. Only his brother's restraining hand keeps him on the couch. "If you two would quit talking about me - me, right here - you'd find out she offered me a third option." That catches both their attention. "She offered me my old life back." Dean's hoping that he can completely change the subject. Stop the talk of whether he's suicidal or self-loathing. They can just go back to the truce they had going before this whole frikkin fairy incident twelve days ago.

But Sam's not letting this chance to talk go. He hadn't even known about Dean's adolescent foray into prostitution before the fairy age-regressed his brother, but it needs to be addressed because it has obviously played a part in Dean's lack of self-esteem. And he did it for Sam, so Sam should get to have some say in whether Dean beats himself up about it. "We are going to talk, Dean, because you are letting something you did as a child, out of desperation, out of love for me, affect the way you think about yourself." Sam starts.

"I swear, Sam, if you keep talking about this I am going to punch you in the face as soon as I've got my regular body back, so it'll hurt more…"

"Shut up, Dean. I'm talking right now." Sam knows that wasn't an empty threat, but it's actually encouraging because Dean is making plans for a future. "Don't make me gag you."

"…I will fold your stork legs and shove your head…"

"I get the picture, Dean. But we are talking, and then you are eating, or you can just stay there tied up until …"

Cas bellows. "Enough both of you!" Green and hazel eyes turn from glaring at each other to meet stern cerulean ones. "Sam, your brother will not commit suicide as long as you need him. Dean, even if you had reason to think so little of yourself, no matter the truth. You have paid the price. You have been to Hell and to Purgatory. This childish drama is unnecessary. Just give us the details of the sylph's offer."

Dean glares, but explains he must meet with the sylph at the beach sunrise on the fourteenth day to make his choice or the spell will be permanent. "So are you two ass hats going to keep me tied up until then?" He can't move away as Cas places two fingers on his forehead to send him into a deep dreamless sleep.

Cas and Sam don't keep Dean tied up, or even asleep, but they do have someone at his side because Sam doesn't want to take his brother's emotional trauma or suicidal tendencies lightly. He also orders food his brother likes and watches him eat. Dean is half-angry about it and partially gratified. He enjoys feeling loved and cherished, even when he protests. He gets aggravated with Sam's mother-henning a little. "Sam, you know I never would leave you, don't you? Can you lay off the clinginess?"

All three of them are on the beach when the sun rises on day fourteen and Dean chooses life as he knows it over a do-over, or eternal life as an air spirit.

There are no happily ever afters for the Winchester brothers, but 30 hours later when they hit the road in their 1967 Impala traveling away from Corpus Christi as two men in their 30's, they are fairly happy. Dean has one less secret weighing him down, and Sam has been convinced to try on-line education. The bank had no way to tell that the money deposited by Dean and Sam Singer disappeared, so they had one clean account to draw on for emergencies.

They were back on the hunt.