Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

NOTE TO READERS: As always thanks for the reviews, emails and PM's, they are all appreciated. Okay, this chapter was giving me issues because I had come up with this story idea sometime during Season 3 and then Season 4 happened and I thought crap now what? I had an idea on what and/or who would be John's lead and then we had season 4 and I hesitated, but then I decided I had this idea way before Season 4 was even a spark in Kripke's eye, although he hasn't used what I have in my story, but nevertheless ... This chapter is around 16 pages long and I expect to have 1 or 2 more chapters before it's complete. Thanks for everything. Happy Reading, I hope!

Side Note: The title of this chapter is a line taken from the Johnny Cash song, "God is Gonna Cut You Down."

So Long, Good-bye

Chapter Fifteen: Heard the Shuffle of the Angel's Feet

By Dawn Nyberg

"…Who is gonna save you when I'm gone? Who'll watch over you? Who will give you strength when you're not strong? Who'll watch over you when I've gone away? … You long to hear my voice, but I'm long gone." Lyric excerpt by Alter Bridge, Watch Over You

Two Days Later, Bobby's House

Dean leaned back into a leather overstuffed chair in the corner near Sam's bed. He was still getting used to the noise the BiPap machine made and they had moved it further away from the bed, as to try and not disturb Sam anymore than needed. He seemed to be tolerating the mask but Dean knew it had to be uncomfortable to some degree. It was a large mask that covered his brother's mouth and nose and was strapped around his head holding it firmly in place creating a seal. The positive air was forced in with each of Sam's breaths. The sound this machine lacked the click and whoosh of a vent but was louder and an almost constant whooshing hum, it was hard to describe but if he focused on it too long it overwhelmed him. Sam was subjecting himself to this for his family's sake, for him and Dean knew it.

Sam had been discharged from the hospital without a catheter and that was one small bit of thanks Dean had. Sam's infection had cleared up and the swelling causing the retention had abated, so he was now back in his adult diapers. Valerie and Margaret were keeping tight shifts with Sam since his care level had increased. There were two IV poles that stood on one side of Sam's bed and were angled slightly off to the side to allow family to be able to sit at either side of Sam's bed to visit with him, to be with him. Before Sam had been discharged they had moved onto what Dr. Finley had said was the last blood pressure IV meds they would switch Sam to. They had adjusted the settings and his blood pressure was maintaining. There was a monitor that was behind Sam's bed that Dr. Finley had wanted for Sam, as well. Dean could easily look at it and know Sam's oxygen levels, blood pressure, heart rate and even his body temperature.

Sam stirred in his sleep; he'd been sleeping more, but would wake for Dean or Bobby when they asked him to. Dean was thankful for the times Sam woke on his own and wanted the company. "I'm here Sammy, shh…" Dean soothed softly as he stood up from his chair and walked over to his brother and placed his hand on the crown of Sam's head. It was harder to stroke his bangs since the bands around his head for the mask trapped his unruly chestnut hair. His hair stuck out in cowlicks around the bands. Dean leaned in and kissed the spot his hand had been. Sam settled into slumber once again without ever opening his eyes.

Valerie walked into the room quietly, "I'm sorry Dean, I have to check his fluid levels and change out some bags," she had been stepping out of the room when Dean or their uncle Bobby came to be with Sam. She knew this was likely their last days with Sam and she gave them their privacy as long as they or Sam weren't requesting her or Sam's care didn't need attended to. "I should check to see if he's wet, too."

"I'll be in the kitchen, you'll…"

"Come get you as soon as I'm done," she assured with a gentle smile. "Your uncle is making some soup and a grilled cheese for you," she commented as she began checking bags and hanging new ones that needed replaced.

"I'm not hungry," Dean replied as he reached out and stroked his brother's arm gently.

"Dean, you need to eat," she urged. "He'd want you taking care of yourself. I didn't get to know the Sam you grew up with but I have been introduced to his stubborn nature before the PSP became so advanced, even now it slips out for short spurts," she smiled and looked at her patient. "He'd be telling you the same thing, right?" Dean looked down at his brother and smiled, but it was a bittersweet smile and he looked up.

"Yeah. Yeah, he would." Dean stayed until the bags were checked and switched and then he stepped out, so Valerie could take care of Sam's other needs and gave his little brother some privacy. She closed the door and Dean walked to the kitchen.

He walked in a saw Bobby closing his cell phone. "You get a hold of him?" His voice was hopeful. Bobby shook his head in frustration and now a little apprehension. John wouldn't be this out of touch especially with Sam on the brink. He hoped John was out of range and had found what Sam needed, but part of him, the hunter side, was hoping John hadn't bitten off more than he could chew and was hurt or worse dead.

"No, and I tried Cole's number, too. There's still no answer from either of them." Dean sat down heavily in the chair. Too tired and worried about Sam to muster up further conversation where his dad or this so called lead was concerned.

Early the Next Morning

Valerie pushed a little nutrition feed into Sam's NG tube at a very slow rate and watched the monitors. "Something wrong?" Dean's voice came from behind. It was a little after 6:30 in the morning and Dean was wide awake. They had been using a mask that allowed for a small NG tube to work that didn't interfere with the seal of the mask to adequately help to ventilate Sam.

"His pressure gets a little dodgy when I push the feed too fast, so I'm doing it slowly, so that his pressure can stabilize a little. I think Dr. Finley will have me pull the NG tube today Dean," her voice tentative. "We'll keep him hydrated with fluids and some dextrose to keep his glucose levels stable. He'll still have his supplement IV fluids to keep his other levels okay, but the feedings will stop. He'll be comfortable," she assured.

"Won't he be hungry?" Dean asked absently as he stepped over to his brother's side and stroked some skin peeking out from between the two bands that were on each side of his cheek.

"Sam's on a pain medication that as you've noticed has a sedative quality to it. We're keeping it at the minimum level, so that he's not completely out and can wake on his own or if asked to respond. Dr. Finley also prescribed a low dose Ativan injection for him that I give to him to help with any anxiety he may be feeling from the mask or in general. Everything is being done to keep Sam physically and emotionally comfortable Dean. He won't feel the hunger," she put a comforting hand on his arm. Dean looked into her eyes. "He's not suffering sweetie," her tone soft. Dean's jaw tightened and he looked away fighting the hot sting in his eyes.

"Can I be with him alone for a while?"

"Sure, he's all up to date on his fluids and meds, if you need anything let me know. I'll call Dr. Finley's pager to ask about the NG tube." Dean nodded and Valerie excused herself. Dean watched her go and slightly closed the double wooden doors to the library but left them cracked. He walked around the bed and pulled on the blinds a little, he wanted some of the sunrise to come in, Sam liked sunrises, he always had, even as a kid. Dean looked at the monitors. Sam's heart rate was 70 and holding, his O2 sat' were at 93, not great but they seemed to be holding for now with the mask's help, his blood pressure was holding around 90/68 with little variations but the IV medication was still working.

Dean lowered the bed rail and slid in beside his brother. He was careful with the tubing attached to the mask from the other side of the bed and the wires and tubes attaching Sam to his monitor and his IV's. Sam stirred and opened his eyes. Dean cocked his head and looked at his brother. "Hey kiddo, good morning," his voice was soft. Sam lifted a weak hand and turned his hand palm up and offered a small wave upward toward his brother. Dean smiled. "The sun's coming up over there Sammy it's just about over the cars in the yard, you'll see it soon." Dean watched Sam's eyes track over with some control this morning toward the window. His eyes weren't roaming as much and Dean quirked an eyebrow and angled himself to see his brother's face. "Sammy?" his voice quiet. His little brother's eyes shifted toward him and although the gaze drifted a couple times he was able to look at him for a long moment. Valerie had said she had see in the past that near the end some PSP patients actually gained a little eye movement control back, she had always equated it to a small gift but Dean knew the truth it was probably just that part of the brain just finally giving up the fight. "Hey there, little brother," he smiled and he could see the corners of Sam's mouth tweak up just a tad in response under the large mask. Sam turned his head back toward the window as a soft ray of light streaked across his blanket. The sunrise was coming and he wanted to see it. Dean watched with him.

Later that Afternoon

The NG tube had been pulled. Dr. Finley came to personally do it wanting to insure that Sam didn't have any complications that Valerie couldn't handle. The tube removal went off without any incident. Sam's oxygen levels had dropped a little but were holding at 91 and his blood pressure had dropped a little, as well, but just slightly 89/66. Dean felt a loss of control and wanted desperately to beg the doctor or Valerie to adjust the meds just a little to help Sam's vitals rebound but he knew comfort care was what Sam wanted and what he'd agreed to when Sam was released to home hospice care. But, he also knew any adjustment would just prolong the inevitable for Sam. He looked at the monitor wanting to know his brother's heart rate, and frowned at the very slight drop to 69. Just a point but it still hit Dean hard. Sam had only been home for three days and he wasn't ready to let his brother go and then his jaw tightened and he accepted the hard truth he was never going to be ready, yet it was going to happen anyway.

Sam stirred and Dean leaned forward. He had grabbed a smaller chair that allowed him to sit right up by the bed to be able to touch Sam. "Sammy, I'm here," Dean touched Sam's arm. Sam opened his eyes and allowed them to drift slowly toward his brother. He weakly mouthed a single word, a question really, Dad? "Sammy, he's off looking for a way to help you. We've tried calling but he's not answering. He'll be here okay, he will," Dean wasn't sure what else to say. He knew Sam wanted to see their father before he let go and Dean hated his father right now. He wanted to give his little brother this one thing and couldn't. He knew that Sam and their dad had unresolved issues. "He'll be back Sammy."

Dean sat that day and visited with his brother. He talked to him about stories from their childhood. He talked to him about hunts he'd been on while Sam was at Stanford and had opened up about how he'd missed his little brother and had driven to Stanford on his own once or twice, maybe … just to check on said little brother. Sam did smile faintly at that and despite the situation Dean even saw a slight hint of dimples in each cheek.

Meanwhile, Two Miles off Highway 2 Just outside Cut Bank, Montana

"Look, I haven't been able to get reception for days and I need to talk to my boys," John bellowed.

"John," Cole said.

"No! He can save my boy and he's worried about heaven and hell locating him," John turned angry eyes toward the man who stood in front of him. "You hide out here in the middle of nowhere in a damn cabin … if anything is worth dying for it's this," John stepped forward.

The man shook his head, "for you maybe it is and that is understandable, he is your child. But, he isn't mine. I have found a place that I have been able to live without being hunted. I have explained to you that I am …"

"I know dammit! Both Heaven and Hell consider you an abomination, you and your whole damn race. But, you can save my son."

"I know your desperation … I can read your thoughts, sense your emotional state but …"

"Please," John's voice broke. He and Cole had found this man a few days ago and he'd hated going out of cell reception range but this was for Sam. "He's my child, he's only twenty-three years old, he's still a kid. You already said you've survived longer than most of your kind. You've hated what you are your entire life then do something to make your struggle worth something … save a human life."

"I am human," the man shouted. John lifted his hands in a placating manner.

"Then honor your human half and save my child. James, please…" John used the younger man's name all the while not allowing himself to think Sam might already be gone.

"You have no idea what it has been like," James started. "When we turn eighteen we come of age and then we're on the radar. Hunted by Heaven and reviled by Hell. Imagine having no place that will accept you. I hear the thoughts of everyone, I understand every language of the world … hell, I even understand ancient languages that have been dead for millennia's. I can heal anything even …" he broke off and turned away.

"What?" John stepped forward. "You can even what?" James huffed.

"Nothing …" James stopped and rubbed a hand over his face. He looked around at his quiet life, his safe life and tried to force out John Winchester's thoughts, his feeling, but the love he felt for his children was overwhelming to the man. He realized then that his quiet, safe life was an illusion and John was right, it was time to step up and use his inborn abilities and to no longer see them as a curse. "I'll help," he said suddenly. "But, I need at least a day to prepare some wards to mask me from …" he dropped off. "I won't be any good to you or your son dead."

"Mask you from what?" John asked. Cole stood silently. He had been much more willing to accept what James truly was than John.

"Archangels, they are charged with the task of destroying us … the Nephilim are abhorred by Heaven because of what we are … half-human, half-angel. I guess Heaven doesn't like to know it's got some dirty laundry out here in the world. But, the truth is that not all of the Nephilim were conceived from a Fallen Angel and they choose to ignore that fact that some of their own that are not Fallen have lain with a human and conceived a child, a half-breed … it doesn't matter, from the moment we turn eighteen they can sense us and unless we run, unless we learn how to hide. Most of us die young but I've struggled to get to thirty-eight, but I can see now that this isn't a life … it's a prison. Heaven may not have killed me yet but they got me locked up in my own personal prison just the same …" John felt overwhelmed by the young man's words. He was still having trouble believing in his lineage and the thought went through his head that moment. James chuckled quietly and shook his head in amusement and bewilderment. "You have no trouble believing in Hell and demons but you question Heaven and angels?"

"Yeah, well …" James raised his hand interrupting John.

"You've seen demons and know enough of Hell to believe in it, well I'm real and there is no denying what half of me is," James commented. "Lucky for you I don't need you to believe in me … so I should get started with preparing. I can be ready by late tomorrow. If I don't make these wards they'll be on me, on us for that matter like a hyena on a fresh kill." James started to walk to his kitchen.

"On us?" Cole spoke now. James stopped and turned.

"Archangels are absolute and if turning you to ash along with me is what it takes to have me dead then they'll destroy you, too." John and Cole both sobered. John rubbed the pocket to his jacket and felt his phone there. He wanted to call his boys and see how Sam was doing with the aspiration pneumonia and for the hundredth time in days he cursed the lack of cell reception in this remote mountain area and he was still over a two days drive from Bobby's.

Meanwhile, Back at Bobby's

Dean brought in a portable CD player and plugged it in not far from Sam's bed. "I thought you'd like to hear some music Sammy," Dean stood at the end of his brother's bed. "So, what do ya say Sammy?" Dean watched his brother turn his head from looking out the window and he could see how weak Sam was and the paleness of his skin. But, despite it all he could still see the light in his brother's eyes and he had to fight the tightness in his throat that was suddenly there. Sam's eyes roamed slightly but still settled on Dean for a long moment and he offered a slight nod. Dean smiled. "Good, so what do you have buried in this duffel, huh? Probably tons of that emo crap you like to listen to," he glanced back at Sam with a glint in his eye and smiled at his little brother. Sam offered the smallest of smiles back. Dean dug deep into the mystery CD collection of his brother's, "Damn kiddo, how many do you have stuffed in here, he pulled out one and started at it, "Who the hell is Clannad?" He started to put it back and Sam grunted.

Dean looked at Sam then, "What you want this one?" Sam nodded slightly. He raised his hands and showed his big brother nine fingers, he paused and then showed seven fingers," Dean raised his eye brows trying to decipher his sibling's sign language and then he got it, "you want me to start on track 9 and then play 7 for you?" Sam did smile to the best of his ability then and Dean smiled back.

Dean listened to the first track with his brother and he didn't understand a single word of it and of course leave it to Bobby to have walked by earlier and explained that it was Irish Gaelic that was being sung. He couldn't understand the title of track 9 but 7 was clear enough, Harry's Game. Dean knew Sam didn't know the language but guessed his little geek, emo little brother had just connected to the music on a level beyond the words and that he could understand because he felt that way about Led Zeppelin.

Sam shifted in the bed slightly and Dean looked up, "you okay? You need anything?" Dean stood up quickly. Sam's face was a little red in a discomfort and Dean understood, "It's okay Sammy, I'll go get Valerie, she's just in the kitchen." He placed a hand on his brother's right calf and gave a gentle squeeze. "See you when she's done Sammy."

Later the Next Day

"Well, be there tomorrow morning John," Cole assured. He glanced back at James in the backseat. The wards he'd made were working and their travel back to Bobby's had thus far been uneventful. The one minor problem was that John found that wherever James was within one mile of the young man there was no cell reception and he couldn't even check his damn voicemail, it was as if he gave off some frequency that blocked cell phones and he simply didn't want to waste time stopping and using a land line. He had made one very brief call to the hospital when they stopped for gas. The only response the information desk had given him was that records showed Sam had been discharged home. He took comfort in that; it had to mean Sam had bounced back from the aspiration, right? It was better to keep moving get James to Sam, to keep moving in order to keep James alive.

"The wards are working John," James spoke softly from the backseat. "These have never failed me. I will help your son," he comforted as he felt John's desperation. John nodded. "I am sorry about the cell phones, though," he offered lightly. "We could stop and use a pay phone to call your sons."

"They said he was discharged, right? I mean we could stop you could…" Cole offered. John shook his head.

"Just hurry Cole," his voice was low. Cole nodded tightly.

Meanwhile, Bobby's House

Dean looked at the clock at frowned. The day had slipped by so quickly. It was already a little after 4:00 PM. Sam had been quiet today but Dean had put in random quiet CD's that continued to play softly in Sam's room. He looked out over the salvage yard from the kitchen window. Valerie was checking Sam's diaper once again to make sure he wasn't wet. Sam had indicated he was uncomfortable but Valerie wanted to make sure. Dean rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. His mind over the last day had recounted a conversation he and Dr. Finley had had before Sam had been discharged. Dean still had trouble getting his mind around the fact that Sam had actually expressed what he wanted done after he died and had even found a man in town that Bobby knew that was a funeral director and ran his own funeral home. He knew about hunting and knew the body preparations needed to insure a hunter's body wasn't used by anything supernatural after death. Sam had indicated that he didn't care if he was cremated or buried just as long as it was handled by Bobby's friend. Sam had spoken Bobby's friend while he was able and plans were already arranged that when he died his body would go directly to the funeral home. Dean understood that this was an expected death no autopsy would be needed. Dr. Finley would simply sign the death certificate when the funeral director brought it to his office. "Dean? You okay?" Bobby's voice made him turn.

"Huh? Yeah," he answered absently.

"You sure? You've been staring out that window for a good ten minutes now."

"Just lost in thought Bobby," Dena replied and the older hunter simply nodded in understanding. Valerie walked into the kitchen and her eyes betrayed her instantly. "What's wrong?" Dean's heart began to hammer against his sternum.

"Dean," she started tentatively. "He's indicated that he wants the mask removed and the BiPap machine turned off."

"It's only been four days, he…" Dean's jaw tightened and he turned away.

"Dean, honey," Valerie stepped forward. "He tapped on the mask and made a removing motion. He wants to have it removed. I have to honor his request." Dean turned around then.

"I'm…" he started and stopped.

"What?" she asked kindly, already knowing far too well. "Not ready to say good-bye, to let go," she said quietly. "Sweetie you never will be but this is about what he wants and he doesn't want to leave you but he's ready to go. He's tired, Dean," his eyes welled at that. Bobby simply stood stock still as his mind tried to assimilate the fact that Sam was really slipping away from them. He had always known it but he had held out hope until now.

"My Dad's still away," Dean offered as if it would change anything. Valerie had never been given an explanation as to where John had disappeared to, she had quietly assumed it had been too much for the Sam's father and he'd left to try and get his head on straight. It wouldn't be the first family member she'd had that left before the end. Some came back before it was too late and others didn't come back until it was over.

"He knows," she replied easily. "Dean," her hand fell on his forearm gently. "Even with the BiPap mask his vitals aren't holding. He's had drop in his blood pressure, his O2 sat's and heart rate, not significant drops, but his body has already begun to let go. Now, he's ready too," she squeezed lightly. This was never easy but it was her job to not only help her patient but the family, as well. "I'm not leaving at the end of my shift. I've already called Margaret and told her. I'll see this through with Sam, you … your family," she assured. "I'm here to keep Sam comfortable and offer what ever support I can to you and your uncle. I need to call Dr. Finley to advise him of Sam's decision. He wanted to know," she patted Dean's arm. "Go see Sam Dean, the mask is still on, he pointed at the door which as you know is his signal that he wants you, so go be with him. I'll be in soon to explain things to all three of you."

"Go be with Sam, Dean," Bobby's voice was rough with emotion. "I'll be in shortly." Dean turned desperate eyes between Valerie and Bobby. Hot tears welling and he rubbed angrily at them. He had to be strong for Sam, but how could he when his soul felt like it was dying right along with his little brother. He left to be with his brother.

He walked into the room quietly and Sam's head was turned toward the window. The sky had begun to change a little … it still showed the blue and clouds but the faintest of hue changes had begun to indicate that early evening was approaching. The BiPap machine continued its loud whooshing hum and Dean could see Sam's chest cave slightly at the forced in air as he breathed. Sam's eyes were closed and his face appeared free of any distress. Dean took a moment to look at the monitor and knew Valerie was right. Sam's blood pressure had dropped 70/60, his heart rate was now hovering around 67 and his oxygen level even with the machines help was now 89. Dean knew that wasn't good and that Sam should be on a ventilator but it wouldn't stop this and Dean knew it.

"Sammy?" Dean reached down and touched his brother's cheek with his thumb and rubbed a gentle circle as he used his other hand to pick up his brother's cool, limp one. "I'm here kiddo," he assured. Sam stirred then and turned his head. His eyes weakly roamed and then did settle on Dean's face. The eye contact was a gift for both of them. Sam squeezed Dean's hand. "Val told me what you want," Dean forced out past the tight constriction in his throat. "You sure?" Sam nodded weakly. "Okay." Dean's voice choked a little at that one word. Sam squeezed his hand again in comfort and support.

Bobby walked in and stood in the doorway. Dean turned and looked at the man. "Sammy, Bobby's here." The older man stepped forward.

"Hey, boy," he offered lightly. Sam offered a small smile at the boy reference. Bobby walked around to the other side of the bed. He reached down and placed his hand on the crown of Sam's head. "I'm here," he assured with strength. Sam reached out a hand and grasped Bobby's calloused one and offered a weak squeeze. Bobby's Adam's apple bobbed slightly and his eyes misted. Sam looked back at his brother and was never more thankful that his eyes weren't betraying him like they were. He could actually look at his brother for long moments.

Valerie walked back into the room. "Sam," she started. "I've talked to your brother and uncle, now I want to tell you what to expect after the mask comes off, okay?" Sam nodded and Dean sat down at Sam's bedside and Bobby followed suit as he pulled up a chair. Dean and Bobby both felt numb but they had to bear this for Sam. "When the mask comes off, I'll replace it with a nasal cannula, so that you're still getting some oxygen and it will help keep you comfortable. The BiPap mask is forcing air in, so when it comes off you may feel like you're not getting enough air. It will pass as your body adjusts. I'll give you something for the anxiety to take the edge off. You'll be awake for as long as you're able and you'll start to feel sleepy as your oxygen levels get lower and your blood pressure drops, too. This may take a few hours." She paused and placed a comforting hand on his leg and gently squeezed a reassurance. "It's likely that before it's over you'll become unconscious, you'll just go to sleep and not open your eyes again … your body will shut down on its own. There won't be any pain Sam," she assured. "I'll make sure of that."

Later that Evening, 9 PM

The room was quiet and dimly lit by a small lamp in the corner. The only sounds in the room since the BiPap machine had been turned off and pushed against the wall were the quiet beeps from the IV pump. The oxygen tank made no noise and unless he listened closely Dean didn't hear the faint hiss of air as it delivered oxygen to his brother. Sam had struggled briefly after the mask was removed, the effort to breathe felt like he was drowning but Valerie had been right and the sensation diminished and as promised the anti-anxiety medication helped Sam adjust. He was quiet now but still mostly awake. Dean was alone with him now. Bobby had excused himself to allow the siblings time alone in these last hours. Valerie sat in the kitchen with Bobby sharing a cup of tea.

"You remember that Dairy Queen we stopped at outside Tyrone, Georgia that one time? I think you were five. Man, you had ice cream in places I still don't know how it got there," Dean chuckled quietly and Sam squeezed his hand. "I remember giving you your bath that night, you even had some dried ice cream behind your ear," Dean shook his head. "Dad, said no more ice cream unless I was willing to do the clean-up every time. I know you loved the stuff, so I made sure we got it at least a couple times a month when we got to towns that had some kind of ice cream."

Dean had crawled into bed with Sam and was pushed up against his side and had wrapped an arm under his brother's neck. Sam seemed comfortable and Dean needed to be as close as he could be. Sam nestled close and Dean fought the tears. He glanced at the monitor now moved off to the side. Valerie had put the alarms on silent as the changes in Sam's vitals were causing to bleep and buzz alarms, so they were muted but Dean could still see the numbers. Sam was still hanging on. His oxygen levels were at 85 now, his heart rate a slow but steady 64, his blood pressure had been sitting around 66/59 for the better part of two hours. Sam's hand tightened in Dean's briefly. "Okay, Sammy, I got more stories," Dean pushed on.

"You won't remember this 'cause you were too young, not quite six months yet. But, Mom and Dad took out for Halloween when you were five months old. Mom dressed you in a lion costume. You were too cute man, it was the whole shebang … like a jumpsuit she zipped you up in. I remember it 'cause I liked pulling on the tail and playing with you ears and Dad kept telling to leave you alone, but I was just playing. I was a fireman that year. Mom and Dad took us around the block and you lasted all of about half a block before you conked out for the rest of it. But, before you fell asleep you were totally into it Sammy. A lot of babies and little kids were crying at the kids dressed like monsters and zombies … you just giggled at them and waved your hands around. They didn't scare you. Mom and Dad took pictures that night, but you know …" Dean didn't need to elaborate he knew Sam understood that most of their family memories were destroyed in the fire just a couple days later. The camera burned without the film ever being taken out.

Dean kept up the talking for a while and finally he just hummed to Sam and stroked his brother's bangs from his forehand gently. Dean sat forward and made eye contact with his brother. Sam's eyes held his gaze. "Hey there little brother," he smiled warmly. "Just checking in," he replied. "You need anything Sammy, anything at all?" Sam's head barely shook side to side and Dean reached up and stroked an errant hair out of Sam's face. "Okay, just checking."

Dean curled back up with his little brother and let his chin rest on the crown of Sam's head. He breathed in is brother's smell … vanilla. Sam always smelled like vanilla. Sam held onto Dean's hand.

4:00 AM Sam's Room

Dean had been watching Sam drift in and out of short naps. He was struggling to stay awake and Dean knew that his sibling was trying to hang on for him as long as possible. Bobby had visited a short while ago and had talked to Sam, said he loved him like he was his own and then he'd turned anguished eyes to Dean reached out cupped his cheek and smiled. Leaving the boys alone once again. Valerie had checked the pain meds and anxiety medication. The fluid bags had been disconnected a while ago … Sam no longer needing them right now. He was hydrated and comfortable. Dean sat up and angled himself so that he could see his brother. "Sammy," his voice soft and it caught in his throat. "It's okay if you want to sleep. I'm here. I'm always gonna be here."

Sam's hand was still inside Dean's and he moved a couple fingers and wrapped them around Dean's thumb. Too weak to squeeze but stubborn enough to let Dean know he was still here, too.

5:00 AM Sam's Room

Dean glanced at the monitor as he had for the hundredth time in less than forty minutes. Sam's blood pressure was 60/40, his oxygen level was 79 and his heart rate had just dropped from 60 to 59. He was still fighting and Dean's eyes misted because he knew what he had to say, had to tell Sam … it was time to let him go, time to let him let go, both notions went against every big brother instinct Dean had in him.

"Sammy?" Dean stroked Sam's forehead and ran his hand up and back against Sam's long bangs. "You were right you know," his voice shook and caught in his throat but he had to say this, had to for Sam. "That letter you wrote me the one you had Bobby help you with," Sam moved a single finger inside Dean's palm to let him know he heard him, although his eyes were at half-mast. "You were right," he started again. "There is no …" he stopped as silent tears ran unchecked down his face. "There are no good-byes between brothers," he dropped his head and leaned it against Sam's. He turned inward and kissed his brother's forehead. He bent lower and whispered in his little brother's ear, this he could do, Sam deserved this, "I love you Sammy," his voice broke. "It's okay," he assured as he kissed the crown of his brother's head. "I know you can't stay little brother," he comforted. Sam's finger weakly stroked up and down on Dean's palm. He knew what Sam really needed to hear, "I'll be … I'll be okay," his voice broke again. "You sleep now Sammy, I'm here," Dean bent over and looked at his brother's face. Sam struggled and opened them just a bit wider and their eyes met and held. Sam offered the faintest of smiles, just a hint and he stroked his big brother's palm once more and Dean watched Sam close his eyes. Dean nuzzled closer and cried silent tears.

6:00 AM Sam's Room

It came on suddenly and pulled Dean up instantly. Sam's breathing shifted into this irregular pattern that terrified him. Sam's eyes were still closed and his face showed no signs of struggle but the breathing … he began oscillating between rapid shallow breaths and moments that he didn't breathe and then the rapid shallow breaths would start up again. "Valerie!" Dean shouted, it didn't bother Sam; he never stirred not even a flinch.

She came running into the room and recognized what was happening right away. Bobby stood in the doorway having heard Dean shout the care nurse's name. "Val, what's happening, he needs help…" Dean eased up and stood wanting Valerie to do something, anything.

"He's not in any pain Dean, this is a breathing pattern called Cheyne-Stokes, it's almost time, honey. He's letting go." Dean turned agonized eyes toward Sam and then up to Bobby.

"No, not yet…" he choked out a sob. "He's struggling," he practically begged as the strange breathing continued.

"No, sweetie he isn't, Sam's letting go and this isn't causing him any pain or fear," she assured. Sam's fast breathing would stop and it was the silence and the long moments of waiting to see his chest rise again that had Dean panicking.

"He's not breathing," Dean looked frenzied.

"It's called apnea Dean, it's what happens between the rapid shallow breaths," Valerie answered honestly. Sam's rapid breathing started up again. She glanced at the monitor and easily saw that Sam's blood pressure was beginning to really bottom out and his oxygen and heart rate were dangerously low. Dean saw her look and his eyes darted to the monitor and he felt his world fragment. "He'll pass soon Dean," her voice soft in the dim room.

The breathing kept on for another twenty minutes and Dean was now alone with Sam. The first streaks of morning light began to light the room but just barely. The golden light heralded a sunny day, "Sammy, the sunrise is coming," Dean curled into his brother. He was close to his ear now. He had once heard that hearing was the last sense to go when someone died. "Are you seeing it Sammy?" Sam's eyes were closed but he hoped that somehow he did.

The rapid shallow breaths came in a quick crescendo and then would stop and then a few more breaths and nothing … a couple breaths and then nothing … one breath and then a simple exhale and all was silent. Sam's chest didn't rise again. Dean's tear filled eyes looked at the monitor and he could see that his brother's heart was no longer beating. He gently pressed two fingers to his brother's pulse point in his neck and felt nothing.

"Sammy," he choked out as he removed the nasal cannula from his brother's nose and let it fall to the floor. He pulled Sam to him and cradled him, rocking and crying into his hair as he tucked Sam's head gently beneath his chin.

Bobby and Valerie heard the grief filled sobs coming down the hallway as the sun began to rise over the salvage yard. Valerie leaned forward and put a comforting hand on Bobby's arm. "It's over now, he's free." Bobby looked at his watch as did Valerie it was 6:20 AM, leaned forward and covered his face with a single hand and cried. Valerie sat with him knowing that a presence was sometimes all that was needed. There was nothing more she could do to ease Sam's passage from this world but she could be here to help his family through this tough morning.

7:10 AM Bobby's House

Valerie had made the call to Dr. Finley and notified him that Sam had passed. "Are you sure, I could stay," Valerie offered. She had already slipped in and removed the IV from Sam's hand and gently pulled off the electrodes that had been attached to the heart monitor. It was all pushed aside now. Sam lay peacefully in his bed with Dean still curled around him.

"No, Val you've done all you can. I'll call the funeral home and have them come in a while for Sam. I know Dean needs to be with him a while longer."

"I've made arrangements for the equipment to be picked up at the end of the week," she said gently. "I wanted to spare you the task. They'll call before they come, okay?"

"Thanks Val," Bobby pulled her into a quick hug. "Thanks for everything you've done, for Sam, for Dean," he paused. "For all of us." She simply smiled and nodded. They hugged once more and she walked out. Bobby felt hot tears sting his eyes. Sam was gone and he just couldn't get his mind around that, he wondered if he ever would.

7:20 AM Bobby's House

Bobby sat numbly at the kitchen table. He had looked in on Dean and felt he should let him be with Sam privately. He picked up the phone and dialed his friend in town. "Martin?"

"Bobby? It's early," the man paused. "Oh, Bobby, I'm sorry, when?"

"An hour ago," Bobby's voice wavered but he maintained.

"You need me to come now to get Sam?"

"Not yet, Dean's still with him."

"Call me; I can be there in fifteen minutes, okay?"

"Martin…"

"I'll take good care of that boy Bobby and that's a promise. John never showed up with the lead he had, huh?"

"No," Bobby's voice was quiet. He heard a car coming up the dirt driveway and by the cloud of dust behind it, it was coming fast. "Martin, I got company coming up the driveway. I'll call just as soon as we're ready, okay?"

"Sure thing friend, I'm here."

Bobby hung up and looked out the window and knew the red Pontiac, it was Cole Water's car. He went outside to meet them and saw how ragged John looked when he stepped out of the car. There was another creak of metal and a person Bobby didn't recognize got out. It was a younger man, maybe late 30's, coal black hair with ice blue eyes that looked through your soul, but they weren't harsh there was caring there and maybe a little fear. They shared a look and the man's breath caught in his throat. John spun around and looked at James.

"What?!" John was worried he felt the approach of an archangel or however it worked.

"I feel his grief, it's like a tidal wave." James stuttered.

"No, no not grief, you got it wrong kid," John assured. "Tell him Bobby. Look I know were late and I would have checked my phone but I can't get any reception around him," John flicked his thumb toward James. "This is James, he can heal Sam."

Bobby shook his head sadly and tears sprang to his eyes. "John," his voice broke and John felt his heart fall to his feet. "He's gone, Johnny … Sam's gone, he passed this morning about an hour ago. Dean was with him when he went … he's gone, I'm sorry," Bobby nearly sobbed. John shook his head in disbelief.

"No!" he shouted and tore past his old friend and went into the house. It was quiet and he walked slowly to Sam's room and stood paralyzed in the threshold. Dean was curled against Sam and had his head resting on the top of Sam's head. John looked at his baby son, he looked peaceful. His skin was milk pale and his lips were no longer pink but almost translucent. "Sammy?" he choked out and Dean looked at his father then.

"Where were you? He wanted you here, to see you … he couldn't speak but he still found a way to ask for you. Where the hell were you?" Dean's voice was filled with anger and grief but he never picked up his head from resting on Sam's.

"I found Sam's cure," John answered absently. His eyes fixed on his youngest child.

"You're too late," Dean sounded broken. "He's gone Dad … Sammy's gone." John looked at his first born and could see how fractured he was. John reached out and touched Sam's hand that rested on his stomach. Dean watched his father carefully. John felt the coolness in Sam's hand, saw the stillness of his chest and knew the truth, Sam, his baby boy was gone.

"Sammy," his voice broke. "My son, oh my son," he bent over Sam's body and pulled his hand to his face and flattened the cool palm against his own warm skin. He turned his face into Sam's limp hand and kissed the palm gently. He reached out and caressed a cheek and traced an eyebrow with his thumb.

"It may not be too late," a voice said from the doorway. John jerked around. Dean tensed and drew Sam closer. John didn't stop Dean, he was being a big brother to Sam no matter what, death didn't mean anything and John was proud of that.

"What do you mean, you can heal but…"

"I once said that I can heal anything and I can sometimes even … and I never finished. But, there is a window of opportunity in death where I can sometimes pull them back but we're running out of time I've never been able to do it past two hours and only if he hasn't crossed over yet. If his spirit still lingers there is hope, although there are no guarantees but if he's crossed I can do nothing." He stepped forward and Dean practically growled like a lion protecting its injured cub.

"You're not fucking touching him," Dean spat and put an arm protectively across Sam's still chest. "What the hell are you?!"

"Dean, this is James, let him help we might get Sammy back, please…" John would bodily separate his oldest from Sam if he had too. "He came to heal Sam, let him try before it's too late, if it's not already," John lamented as an almost after thought.

Dean relented as he looked at his brother's pale features and pulled himself away from Sam. James nodded and approached. "I need to touch him," he stepped forward tentatively. His eyes sparked with hope when he touched Sam. "His spirit hasn't crossed yet but he is very close. There is little time to try." James touched Sam's head and chest at the same time, he closed his eyes and within moments there was a warm glow emitting from his hands that seemed to envelope Sam's head and chest. The light grew to a bright all encompassing light and faded down to an ember; he pulled back and looked at Sam's silent features.

John, Dean, Bobby and Cole all stood transfixed and staring … silence filling the room.

To Be Continued