Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this mess for me and Gredelina1 for being my cheerleader when I faltered.

One of my very dear friends is going through a hard time and I am far away so there's very little I can do for her. I thought a little distraction might help, so this extra update is for her. Love you hon xxx

In my excitement to post, I forgot to add a trigger warning. This chapter contains a suicide note.

Chapter Twenty-One

Dear Alfie and Elsie,

I never thought I would be the person that would have to write one of these letters. I'm not sure I am doing the right thing writing it even. I guess it'll be down to Castiel to decide whether to send it or not. He'll be the only one left to make the choice.

I thought maybe I should leave you to imagine us out there on the road again, living our lives, saving people and hunting things, but it felt right that someone that really cares about us knows what happened, and you're the only family we have left now. Castiel is gone, even though he is here, and everyone else is dead.

We can't do it anymore. Sam made that clear today, and I know he will make that choice again. I can follow him around and have Castiel ready to save him all hours, but I think that would be a worse kind of torture for him than he's already living in his confused mind. He needs to go and I cannot let him go alone. I have to do this for us both.

I don't have words to tell you how grateful I am to you for everything you did for us. Alfie, I tried to steal your car. Anyone else would have called the cops; you gave me a ride instead. You stayed with me as I watched that nightmare of a rescue play out, and then you were with me each step of the way in the hospital. I would never have been able to deal with the things that happened without you. Elsie, you took care of us before you even met us. Knowing there was someone else out there that cared what happened to me and Sam made it easier to handle our losses. You both opened your home to us, and I was happier there than I can remember being in the longest time. Even with Sam the way he was, things were good with you.

You know I don't throw the word family around easily, that's something you have to earn for me, but you've both more than done that. You are our family and that makes doing this even harder. It's only because I am doing it for Sam that makes it possible.

I know I have no right to ask anything more of you after all you've done for us, but if you would do one more thing for me, please remember us for who we were, not what we did. That's the most important thing to me now. I need someone to remember us as more than the strangers that appeared and saved their lives before disappearing again. We were people, brothers, before we were hunters. I had that the wrong way round for the longest time.

Take care of yourselves and each other,

Dean.

Twelve hours earlier.

In the weeks that followed their arrival, they all settled into a routine. Dean left them only once to pay for more time in the cabin and to refill Sam's meds. Everything else came to them there. Propane for the stove was brought to them from town and groceries were delivered by the kid from the store. Everything else they could need was already there.

Sam spent most of the time he wasn't in the cabin out by the lake. Dean found a patio chair and took it out for him. He set it up on the end of the deck and Sam sat there for hours on end. Dean sometimes went out there with him, but he knew his presence made Sam uncomfortable, so he only did it when he really felt the need to be with him for his own peace of mind. He took Sam out a fishing pole once, thinking it would give him something to do, but it sat beside him untouched and Dean didn't bother again.

Castiel made more attempts to bring Sam back to them, but they failed. He could breach the barrier in his mind easily enough, but he couldn't bring it down. That was something only Sam could do. He didn't stop trying though.

Dean found his old bond with Castiel returning over time. He could sometimes look at him and see Emmanuel in the clothes he wore and the way he spoke, not Castiel. It was reinforced by the fact Castiel had no memory of what he had done to them; he was Emmanuel now. They would talk for hours about all kinds of things. Dean told him a lot about their lives, and Castiel never seemed to tire of the stories. He even found himself talking about Castiel as he had known him without bitterness.

He also told him about Sam, his triumphs and sometimes his mistakes. It helped him to remember Sam as he had been, to keep the thought alive and show Castiel what they were fighting to bring back. It was like having his friend with him again.

They were sitting on the couches by the fireplace and Dean was telling the story of the very first hunt they'd taken when he'd fetched Sam from Stanford—the woman in white—explaining how Sam had defeated her.

"He drove your car into the house?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah. And it wasn't that plastic piece of crap outside either. It was my '67 model and she was beautiful. He busted a headlamp but that was all, lucky for him. I'd have beaten his ass if he'd hurt my baby."

"What happened to… your baby?" he asked awkwardly.

"She's on lockdown. Me and Sammy were cloned by these dicks called Leviathans and they made us America's most wanted again. We had to go undercover. We're really called Sam and Dean Winchester, not Smith."

"You have lived through difficult times recently," Castiel said.

"Yeah, I guess. It feels like times have always been difficult for us, but we've had each other. That's what makes it worse now. I don't have Sam with me. I don't even have Bobby."

"What happened to Bobby?"

"He was murdered," Dean said. "This asshole Leviathan called Dick Roman shot him. For just a little while we thought he'd make it, no more than a few minutes, but then he died. He was the last one left in our family. After that it was just me and Sam.

"I am very sorry, Dean."

"Yeah. Me too." He wiped a hand over his face, shaking away the emotions, and stood up. "I should make something to eat. Sam hardly touched breakfast."

"Or dinner yesterday," Castiel said. "He's losing weight."

"I know. It's almost impossible to make him eat more though. To him, this is all imaginary and the real world is the one he's trying to get back to. He just doesn't get that he has to take care of himself. There's some salad in the fridge. I'll try bulking it out with chicken today."

He went to the counter and glanced out of the window. Sam was facing away from him on the dock. Satisfied he was okay, he went to the fridge to get the chicken breast to cook.

"You mind making the salad?" he asked. "I can make us chicken burgers if you like."

"That sounds good," Castiel said. He went to the fridge and started filling a bowl with the various lettuces Dean had bought and some tomatoes.

Dean turned on the grill and got a pan from the cupboard. He was concentrating on what he was doing, feeling no urgency or fear for anything at all, but he suddenly froze with the knife in his hand.

"Do you think he'd like some…" Castiel trailed off as he looked at Dean. "What's wrong?"

"Sam," Dean whispered through numb lips. There was no reason to believe Sam was anything but fine, but he knew in his gut there was something not right. He moved to the window and looked out onto the dock, but Sam was gone. "Sam!"

He dropped the knife onto the floor with a clatter and ran for the door. He tried to tell himself Sam was okay, he was probably just walking, but he couldn't convince himself of it. His heart knew something was wrong.

He yanked open the door and flew outside. He ran at the lake, a cry ripping through his lips at what he saw. Sam was floating face down in the water.

He sprinted along the dock and threw himself in. The water was deep and he had to fight to reach the surface, his lungs burning. When his head broke the water, he drew deep breaths and swam with long strokes out to Sam. He was bobbing away from him, and Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him toward him. With difficulty, he turned him over and put his arm around his neck, holding his head out of the water.

He was a dead weight, and Dean felt sick with fear as he towed him to the shore. When his feet scraped the stony bottom, he began to drag himself through the water, towing Sam after him. Castiel appeared and grabbed Sam's other side and they carried him between them.

Dean wasn't aware he was crying until he felt the sob rip up his throat. How could this have happened? How could he have let it? How could Sam do this to him?

He staggered to a stop when only Sam's feet remained in the water and released him and then dropped down beside him. Sam's lips were blue and his eyes closed.

"Sammy," he moaned, his cold and shaking hand reaching for Sam's throat. There was no thud of life there, and Sam's chest wasn't moving. "No!" he shouted.

"Let me," Castiel said.

Dean didn't hear him. He tilted Sam's head back and blew two breaths into his mouth then moved to his chest to start compressions. He managed only a few before he was pulled away. He fought wildly to be free, unaware of the fact it was Castiel there, not an enemy. All he knew was that Sam needed him.

He was shoved away and then Castiel dropped to his knees beside Sam. "I will save him, Dean," he said.

"Yes!" Dean said, suddenly aware of what he was offering. "Do it!"

He scrambled forward on his hands and knees to Sam's other side as Castiel laid a glowing hand on Sam's chest. There was a moment of silence and then Sam drew a juddering breath. He coughed and water spilled from his mouth. Castiel turned him on his side and Dean moved quickly to hold Sam against him.

Sam's racking coughs ended, and he leaned against Dean with his eyes closed. He pushed Sam's wet hair back from his face and breathed shakily.

Sam's eyes opened a crack and he smiled weakly. "Jess, I'm back."

"No, Sam," Dean said mournfully, understanding coming with pain. "It's me."

Sam blinked and looked around at him. "Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me. You're okay. We got you back."

Sam shook his head slightly, his expression betrayed. "Why would you do that? I was so close."

"You were dead!"

"No," Sam said. "I was going home."

Tear's burned Dean's eyes and he let them fall, mingling with the lake water dripping from his hair. Sam pushed himself up to his feet, but Dean remained kneeling on the ground.

"How could you do that to me, Dean?" he asked.

"How could you do it to me?" Dean asked in return. "You tried to kill yourself."

"I was going to live again," Sam replied, his voice choked with emotion. "How do I get her back now?"

He walked away along the shore and around the cabin. Dean watched him go with horror.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Castiel said, his voice wrecked.

"I don't know what to do. How can I fix this?"

"I wish I knew," Castiel said. "I wish that so much. I will help you though. We will find a way."

Dean looked at him imploringly. "How?"

"You've always found a way before, haven't you?"

Dean nodded. "What if this time I can't? What if I've had all my chances already?"

"We'll find a way," Castiel said again. "We have to."

Dean pushed himself to his feet. "I need to help him. He has to get warmed up." He walked along the shore and into the house.

When he got inside, he realized the burner was still on. He turned it off and followed the wet footprints up the stairs to the bathroom. He heard the shower running and over the sound of water, Sam's sobbing words. "I tried, Jess, I swear I tried. They dragged me back. I'm so sorry."

Eight Hours Earlier

Sam was asleep on the couch. Though Castiel had healed him, he seemed to have been exhausted by what had happened. Or perhaps it was his crying fit in the shower that had drained him. It had seemed to last forever to Dean who had stood outside listening to him, helpless.

Dean was sitting on the front porch, facing away from the hateful lake that had nearly taken Sam, toying with the phone in his hands. He needed to make a call, but was trying to brace himself. He hadn't spoken to them since he'd left, in a selfish attempt to protect himself from feeling their absence, but he needed them now.

He dialed before he could stop himself and brought the phone to his ear and listened to it ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Elsie, it's me," he said tiredly.

"Dean!" Her voice rose and became muffled as if she was covering the receiver. "Alfie! It's them! It's Dean!" She became clear again and said, "How are you? We've been so worried. We didn't want to call at the wrong moment in case something was happening, but we never knew when the right moment was. Are you okay? How's Sam?"

Dean wanted to tell her the truth but he couldn't bear to break her heart. "We're okay. How are you guys?"

"We're fine. Izzy and Amanda have been here today. Izzy misses you and Sam. She asked when you'll be coming home."

"Say hey for us," Dean said. "Tell her we're sorry we couldn't say goodbye."

"I will. You have to see her again though. She'll be sad otherwise."

Dean felt like an asshole for upsetting the little girl, and Elsie, but he couldn't make promises now.

"How is Sam?" she asked. "Is there any change?"

"None good," Dean admitted. "He's slipping further away even. We've found somewhere safe though, and we're together."

"That's something I suppose." Her voice became muffled again as she spoke to someone else and then she came back. "Alfie wants to talk to you now, Dean. Call me again soon. I miss you both so much."

"We miss you, too," Dean said. "Bye, Elsie."

There was the sound of the phone exchanging hands and then Alfie said, "Dean, what's wrong?"

"How do you know something's wrong?" he asked.

"You called. It's been weeks without a word and now you're calling. Is Sam okay?"

"Not really. Worse even. But I'm taking care of him."

"Is he taking his medication?"

"Yes, and there have been no more seizures. He's talking differently, too. I think Castiel really healed that part of it. That's not really the problem anymore though. It's his mind. He needs help that I don't know how to give anymore. I don't know what to do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I want him to fight it. I want him back."

"Yes, but what do you want to do?"

"I want to let go," Dean admitted quietly. "He did something today that scared the crap out of me. I see now how lost he is, and I think the only way to help is to let him be free again. I don't think I can ever get him back."

"You mean let him live his delusion?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Do you think that would be better for him?"

"Yes," Dean said honestly. "I think I'm only hurting him making him live our way."

"I see." He sighed. "I cannot advise you in this, Dean. I don't wish for you or any of us to lose Sam, but if you believe it's right, perhaps that is the best thing to do. Have you thought of coming back here? There is a chance Doctor Platt could help. There are other hunters out there, I know. Couldn't one of them take responsibility for Castiel and free you to take care of Sam?"

"I'm thinking something like that already," Dean said. "It might be the only way."

"Then do what you must do for yourself and Sam. We will welcome you home at any time, no matter how long it takes you to come."

"I know," Dean said. "I appreciate it." He could not go back though. Doctor Platt couldn't help. Only Dean could give Sam what he needed. "I should go," he said. "I left Sam in there with Castiel, and I should get something ready for him to eat. He's not been taking care of himself lately, and he really went through something today."

"Of course. Call us when you can. We will be here waiting for you."

"Thank you, Alfie, for everything."

They exchanged goodbyes and Dean ended the call. Tucking his phone back in his pocket, he stood and walked into the house. Unknowingly, Alfie had given him the confidence to do what he needed.

He would take care of Sam.

Dean addressed the envelope and set the pen down. He had done what he must for Alfie and Elsie; it was now time to do what he needed for him and Sam.

He had known before he spoke to Alfie what he had to do, but his words had cemented the decision.

Dean did want to help Castiel, but Sam had to come first and this was what he needed. He had to set him free.

He had written Castiel a letter, too, giving him Garth's number and explaining enough that he could go to him and the others for protection. It wasn't the best he could do for him, but it was all he could manage under the circumstances. He would take that one with him so Castiel would see his name with the message underlined beneath: Don't bring us back.

Satisfied he was ready, Dean walked up the stairs to his bedroom. Sam was asleep when he checked on him and Castiel was doing whatever it was he did at night; meditation or sleep, Dean wasn't sure. He went to his bed and picked up the gun from under the pillow. He checked the clip and then walked out and into Sam's room. He clicked the door closed quietly and turned the key in the lock in case Castiel heard something before it was over.

Sam was sleeping on his side in the middle of the bed, and Dean perched on the side and set Castiel's letter on the bedside table. He took a moment just to look at his brother. He looked peaceful in a way he never did when awake. Happy almost. Dean wondered whether he was with Jessica in his dreams.

Dean hoped that he and Sam would be together after this, sharing their heavens with Sam back to himself, but he couldn't be sure. Perhaps what he was about to do would cancel out the good he'd done in his life. He might have Hell again. As long as Sam had his heaven, Dean could deal with anything.

He raised the gun and drew a shaky breath. The sound was soft, but it broke through to Sam. His eyes opened and he looked momentarily shocked. Then he spotted the gun in Dean's hand and his expression softened into what looked like hope.

"You have to, Dean," he said pleadingly. "Please, let me go."

Dean brushed tears from his face. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I should have saved you."

"This is saving me. I will be free again."

Dean nodded and raised the gun and aimed it at Sam. He would shoot him first and then himself. Only then would it be over. He clicked off the safety and stared into Sam's happy face and he started to pull the trigger.

Suddenly, there was a flutter and his hand was yanked upwards. His finger completed its movement on the trigger and the gun discharged into the ceiling.

"Stop, Dean!" Castiel shouted as Sam cried out, "No!"

Dean fought against him, trying to bring the gun down again, and then he heard a voice that froze him. "What the hell do you think you're doing!"

Dean turned toward the voice, his eyes wide. Bobby stood across the room and he was glaring at Dean with the kind of anger only he could manage.

"No," Sam moaned, reaching for the gun. He pulled it from Dean's slack hand, and raised it to his head.

Castiel acted faster that Dean could have believed. He ripped the gun from Sam's grip and released the clip then threw it across the room even as he brought two fingers to Sam's temple and sent him into unconsciousness.

"Stop!" Dean shouted. "You have to let me do this."

"No," Castiel snapped. "I will not let you do this because of me. You will not leave me behind."

Dean gaped at him, trying to make sense of what was happening, but Castiel was reaching for him. Before Dean could say more than, "Cas…" he was falling back against Sam's legs, unconscious.

So… He reached that point. Poor Dean. There will be much discussion in the next chapter and some truths at last.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx