Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

NOTE TO READERS: Thank you for the reviews and the condolences you all continue to PM and email me, it's appreciated. I'm sorry that I didn't post last weekend, but things are still a bit unsettled, but I wanted to get you something out this weekend, so I really tried. This chapter is around 6 pages long. Again, I'm sorry I haven't been able to post every weekend, but it is what it is, I suppose. Thank you again for your support.

Happy Reading, I hope!

So Long, Good-Bye

Chapter Five: Vespers

"…Don't want to believe in this ending. Let the cameras roll on, keep pretending. Tomorrow's all wrong if you walk away, just stay…" Lyrics excerpt by David Cook, Lie

February 17, 2006, One Week Later, Bobby's

"Easy Sammy, I got ya," Dean coaxed from behind his little brother. Bobby stepped forward and went up the stairs to his porch.

"I'll get the door," he said as he passed the boys. Sam had had an appointment with the doctor today and had insisted on getting up the stairs on his own steam. He had passed off his walker to Bobby and clung to the wooden railing as he took one slow step at a time up the stairs. Dean walked behind keeping a supportive and protective hand on the small of his sibling's back while the other hand loosely held Sam's left elbow. Sam struggled but kept pushing.

"You don't have to prove anything Sammy," Dean said quietly. Dr. Finley would have Sam take a couple steps to show his mobility among other things and the visits always wiped Sam out.

"I'm nnn …not," Sam stuttered. His speech had been experiencing an occasional difficulty again over the last week. He would have trouble speaking or slurring, but he could still communicate. "Just need to be able to still do ssss…something." Dean nodded.

Later that Afternoon

"Okay Sammy," Dean smiled as he entered with Sam's lunch. "We've got Salisbury steak puree with a carrot and pee medley puree. I thought you might like a chocolate malt, too. The doc suggested Bobby and I mix in a chocolate can of Ensure, too. The malt is almost the right thickness but I did add just one tablespoon of your Thick-it. Hey, I got some of that vanilla pudding you like, too."

"Thanks Dean," Sam watched his brother put the food down on his rolling hospital bed table. Sam knew he was getting worse and even now it was becoming even harder for him to get around and he wondered how much longer it would be before he couldn't even bathe himself. As it was Dean had bought a shower chair that fit inside the shower with Sam, so he could sit down and wash himself if he felt unstable or got tired of standing. Sam spooned his puree and his hand was shaking and he dropped some on his shirt. "Dammit," he hissed.

"Hey, it's okay," Dean said hurriedly. He grabbed a clean wash cloth from the side of the bed. "Here," Dean went to wipe it off Sam's shirt.

"Don't," Sam shouted and pushed his brother's hand away from his chest. "I ddd…don't need cleaned up like a damn bbb…baby," he raged. "Just leave me alone," hot tears filled Sam's eyes against his best efforts to hide them from Dean. "Please," came out quiet and broken.

"Yeah, okay Sammy," Dean was quiet. "I … I'll just let you …" he stepped back. "Sorry," he turned and left the room quickly unable to look in his little brother's eyes and see the tears threatening to break free. Dean hurried through the house toward the front door.

"Dean?" Bobby had heard Sam yell and was on his way in to check to see if everything was okay. "Where you goin'?"

"I need some air," Dean said over his shoulder as he opened the front door and went outside. Bobby could hear the emotion in his voice. He walked toward the library and checked in on Sam.

"You okay?" he asked from the doorway.

"Where'd Dean go?" Sam looked stricken.

"Outside, he'll be okay," Bobby assured. "You want to tell me what had you so worked up?"

"I was sss…stupid," Sam said quietly. "I dropped some food on myself and he tried to clean it up and I…"

"Felt crowded and coddled?" Bobby suggested with a soft understanding smile. Sam nodded slightly.

"I shouldn't have said…"

"I'll go talk to him Sam," Bobby replied evenly.

"I didn't mean to…"

"I know and so does he," Bobby looked at the tray of food. "You going to be okay while I'm outside talking to your brother?"

"Yeah, I won't choke to death," Sam's voice held a little bitterness but it wasn't toward Bobby but the situation and the older hunter understood that completely.

"Okay, I'll get him back inside kiddo, no worries," Bobby assured. Sam offered a small lopsided grin in return.

Outside in the Salvage Yard

Bobby walked into the car yard in search of Dean he figured the kid wouldn't have gone too far and he was right. Dean was just inside the yard sitting on the hood of and old Pontiac. Bobby sat down on the hood beside Dean. "How you doin' kid?"

Dean looked at Bobby for a second and then let his eyes settle on some distant point out in the yard. "Sammy okay?" he said without looking at Bobby again.

"He's worried about you," Bobby offered. "You know he didn't mean …"

"I know that," Dean looked at Bobby.

"Do you? Cause' he's worried he might have pushed you too far. I mean he didn't come out and say that but he did say he didn't mean to say it," Bobby paused. "Dean, you know as desperate as we both feel about everything that boy in there is feeling it a thousand times worse and he was just feeling crowded and like he wasn't in control anymore…"

"I know, don't you think I don't know that," Dean lamented. "Dammit, I want him better. I want that damn disease out of him. He's just a kid Bobby. Are you sure none of your leads have any suggestions?"

"Dean I have turned up every rock and spoke to every contact I could locate. It ain't no curse that entity put on your brother. It just gave him a disease, an accelerated version of a real disease. How do you fight that? Cure that? The disease may have had a supernatural catalyst but it's the real deal … taken on a life of its own." Dean looked at Bobby with anguished eyes.

"I can't lose him Bobby," Dean choked. "There has to be something. I can't give up on him … I won't."

"I won't either, but we gotta think about Sam too and do what we can for him in the interim, okay?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed quietly. There was a long pause between the men. "He's getting worse Bobby," Dean said quietly.

"I know."

Both men sat silent beside one another for a few minutes neither saying anything more about the reality they were living. "We better get back in to Sammy," Dean broke the silence. "I don't like him eating alone." Bobby nodded and both hunters stood up and walked back to the house.

10 Days Later, February 27, 2006, Greene Memorial Hospital, Outpatient Center

Dr. Finley sat at a table with Dean and Bobby providing them an update on Sam's latest appointment. "Dean, I'm sorry that it seems his mobility issues appear to be progressing rapidly since our last visit. His speech is showing more episodes of slurring and/or stuttering." Dean offered a tight nod. He already knew this, after all, he and Bobby were with Sam 24/7 and now Sam couldn't even get out of bed on his own without Dean taking most of Sam's weight and he needed help transferring to the wheel chair. Now, Sam could not even shuffle with the aide of the rolling walker. He could stand but only with support, but needed a wheelchair to get from room to room.

"He can still bathe himself," Dean offered up defiantly in his brother's defense. He felt helpless and needed to say something that could indicate his brother was still here and could do some things on his own.

"Yes, which is excellent considering how advanced the disease is becoming. Is he able to complete all of the tasks still?" Dean sobered at that question and shared a look with Bobby.

"No," he answered quietly. "I shave him when he needs it and I have to wash his hair for him now, but…"

"I know Dean it is a positive highlight that he can still adequately bathe himself. Have there been any incontinence episodes yet? Sam said no when I asked him."

"No," Dean barked and then quickly added, "I'm sorry…"and he dropped his eyes. Bobby felt the need to add his voice into the conversation.

"Doc, we're just still feeling our way through this and looking for ways to help Sam. There haven't been any issues yet."

"Good, but it is likely that it will occur and when it does…"

"We'll handle it," Dean's voice was firm.

"Dean, I don't think you're fully understanding the issue at hand, once your brother starts having problems he'll require adult diapers, and need cared for as you would a baby, really," the doctor offered with somber eyes. "Sam has indicated to me that he does not want to remain home when the disease progresses to this stage."

"I know, okay?" Dean's voice was angry. "He said that back when he was diagnosed and read that damn booklet he was given and it mentioned it. I don't want him going to some care facility; we can get help to come to my uncle's."

"Yes, of course, I could provide you some references of two excellent home care providers that we recommend, however you're more than welcome to find your own, as well. But, Dean, Sam is still able to communicate what he wants, so it will have to be his decision."

"I'll talk to him. I don't want him in a home. He has a home." The doctor nodded. The doctor cleared his voice and Dean knew something else was coming.

"What is it?" he was on edge instantly.

"It's just that during this visit Sam indicated that he wanted more information and paperwork on putting an Advanced Directive on file and has considered a Living Will be drawn up." Dean flinched as if he'd been struck.

"No! Hell no!" he barked.

"Dean," Bobby leaned forward and put a calming hand on the young man's shoulder.

"No," he jerked from the touch.

"Dean," the doctor began. "It's just paperwork that would indicate …"

"I know what the hell it is," Dean hissed. "I read the same friggin' booklet he did. It lets him say he doesn't want certain stuff to keep him alive."

"Essentially yes," the doctor agreed. "Dean, it's a PSP patient's way of assuring that once they are unable to make decisions for themselves that they still have a say and that they still have control. He has indicated that he doesn't want to remain home until he dies that he'll want a hospice placement. He isn't declining care per se, but he doesn't want long-term life support should it come to that in the event he suffers a lung aspiration that he will not recover from with medical intervention. He does not want to be on a vent long-term should a situation warrant it." Dean's throat was tight and he'd taken just about all he could for today.

"I need to see Sammy," Dean spoke quietly and looked at Bobby and then the doctor. "I want to take him home."

"Certainly, he's down the hall in his regular exam room. I'll see you in two weeks, unless you need to bring him in sooner." Dean nodded and stood up and walked stiffly to the door. He needed to talk to his little brother.

Meanwhile, Outside El Paso, Texas

John loaded back his equipment into his truck. It was an easy haunt to clean up and he finished the hunt quickly. Now, he wanted to get back to hunting the demon down. He stopped and flipped open his phone and listened to his saved voice mail from Dean. He'd listened to it the first day it had come in almost a month ago, but he had been on a hot lead tracking the demon and dismissed it but his gut had been telling him he shouldn't have ignored it, but he passed that off as his father radar was interfering with the hunt for the demon. He listened to it again:

Hey Dad, it's me. Um, look there some stuff happening and we need you, okay? Um, we're at Bobby's. Call me or come to Bobby's, okay?

John frowned at the message. He couldn't deny that Dean sounded emotional although he was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. If it were a real emergency he would have called back, right? He wondered to himself. They're at Bobby's, so things can't be all that bad. He closed his phone and then the memory of Sam calling him a couple years back when Dean had been hurt on that hunt where he damaged his heart and the doctor's said there wasn't anything more to be done. He had let them down then and not called back and the knowledge that Dean could have in fact died if Sam hadn't saved his brother by finding the faith healer hit him. He let out a sigh and climbed into his truck. He pulled out onto a dusty road and headed for the highway. He was headed for Singer's Salvage Yard and to see his boys.

To Be Continued