A/N: Okay, so it's been a while... but... This is the final chapter! I don't think y'all are ready for this wait for it... almost 5,000 word chapter, but here it is. Thank you all for sticking with me through this long and crazy writing process, and I can't wait for you to read the fic's conclusion. Small note I have changed their ages to 12 and 16, because it fits the story better, but it doesn't change much from previous chapters Trigger Warnings, violence, emotional manipulation, and John being a piece of shit

When Bobby's house had disappeared in the rear-view mirror, Sam finally spoke.

"So uh, where does Dad want us to meet him?" he wondered. Dean hesitated, looking guilty. "Dean, where's Dad?" Sam's tone grew serious.

"He's at Mark's," Dean finally sighed, staring pointedly at the road ahead.

"Oh," Sam replied quietly, feeling his breath quicken. Was he going back for a week of re-training? "Did he- did he say anything else?"

"No, just that he was at Mark's and he wanted us to meet him there," Dean explained. Sam must have looked pretty upset because he quickly added. "Don't overthink things, man. We don't know why he wanted us to meet him. It could just be a common ground for us to head to our next hunt."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Sam frowned. Dean didn't respond, which gave him all the answer he needed.

Unfortunately, Mark's house was only about a seven hour drive from Bobby's which meant that they were there by early afternoon. Sam was silent as Dean drove slowly down the gravel driveway that led to their destination. They reached the house, and Sam got out of the car before Dean could say anything. John must have heard the Impala pull up, because he came out of the house to stand in the doorway.

"How was your trip, boys?" he wondered.

"It was fine," Dean answered. "But Dad, what are we doing here? What's going on?"

"You boys come on inside and I'll explain everything," he opened the door wider. He led them through the house to the study, and Sam wondered if Dean was as shocked as he was at the sight that was waiting for them.

Mark Reed was bound to his own wooden straight-backed chair; his lips sealed closed with a piece of duct tape. He was shirtless, and Sam gazed in horror at the gashes that ran d\own his chest to meet up with bruises on his ribs. He was breathing shallowly, clearly in pain.

"Dad, what the fuck is this?" Dean sounded upset.

"Watch your language, son," John admonished, turning to Sam. "Sam, why didn't you tell me what happened while you were here?"

"I didn't think- I mean," Sam stuttered trying to think of how to say what he wanted to say. "I didn't want you to be mad at me, o-or send me back for a week of re-training, sir."

"Why the hell would I be mad at you for what this monster did?" John questioned incredulously.

"Well cause I- it was my fault," Sam felt a familiar pit of fear rest in his stomach. "I was disobeying him, and being disrespectful, so he had to punish me, right?" John didn't respond right away.

"Alright, Sam," John finally sighed. "You still should have told me, but it's too late now. It's time to finish things," He reached into his waistband and pulled out his pistol, handing the gun to Sam.

"W-what?" Sam looked up at him in confusion.

"He has to die," John gestured from the gun to Mark.

"Dad-" Dean started, but John silenced him with a raised hand.

"He's a monster, Sam. Kill him," John commanded.

"But he- he's human," Sam gazed at his father, then turned pleading eyes onto Dean.

"No, Sam," John disagreed. "He is just like every other monster we fight. He hurts people and he has to be stopped."

Dean stepped in between Sam and John.

"Dad," he protested. "Please. Don't make him do this, he's been through enough."

"This is a valuable lesson for him, Dean," John insisted. "You and I aren't always going to be around to take care of his problems for him."

"Maybe you won't," Dean squared his shoulders. "But I'm always gonna take care of him."

"Really?" John raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You're just gonna spend the rest of your life cleaning up Sam's messes, and taking care of his problems?"

"Isn't that what you've always told me to do, Dad?" Dean's voice was louder now. "Take care of Sammy, right? Watch out for your brother. Keep him safe. Did you think that one day I would just stop doing that?"

"What, Dean, are you gonna follow him into adulthood, and keep treating him like a little kid?" John questioned. "You know Dean, one day he's gonna grow up, and he's not gonna need you anymore."

"Yeah? Well he's still a kid now," Dean's voice cracked. "And I'm gonna protect and take care of him until he tells me to stop."

"Fine," John huffed. "If you wanna take care of your brother so badly, then you kill Mark." He held the gun out to Dean. There was a tense moment, before Dean grabbed the gun, training it on Mark.

"Dean, don't," Sam pleaded. "Please, he's still a human."

"It's you or Sam, Dean," John pressed. Dean was still, staring at Mark with his finger lightly on the trigger of the gun.

"Look away, Sammy," he finally spoke roughly.

"Dean, no," Sam stressed. "You don't have to do this. Let's find another way."

"Let him watch, Dean," John shrugged. "If he doesn't wanna look away, that's his problem."

"Sammy's right Dad, we don't kill humans," Dean's voice was small and unsure.

"Sam is making this a much bigger deal than it needs to be," John rolled his eyes. "The things this monster did to your brother are horrific and unforgivable. If we don't kill him now, then what's stopping him from doing those things to some other kid? Come on Dean, this isn't rocket science. Either you kill Mark right now, or I give the gun to your brother and I make him stand here until Mark is dead. If that means he stands here while Mark slowly bleeds out over the next couple of days because Sam won't shoot him, then so be it, but Sam is not leaving this room until Mark is dead, you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Dean's voice was pained. "Sammy, look away," There was a moment of silence, and then a sharp report as the gun was fired. Blood streamed from a hole in Mark's forehead, and his eyes gazed forward, unseeing. From behind Dean came a gut-wrenching sob, and he turned to comfort his brother, but as he reached out to the boy, Sam flinched backward, and he froze.

"I- I'm sorry," Dean stuttered, barely audible, and trembling. "I had to- you-"

"Both of you take care of the body," John interrupted with no emotion to color his voice. "We'll spend a few nights here until we find a new case to head to."

There was a moment where it seemed like maybe one of them would protest, but it appeared as though neither of them had any fight left in them, and they set to work carrying Mark outside to dig him a grave and salt and burn the body. The work was done efficiently, as both boys were well practiced in the skills necessary, but they worked in suffocating silence. A light rain had started to fall, but it wasn't enough to douse the flames of the body drenched in lighter fluid, and the flames illuminated the otherwise dismal gloom that surrounded them.

Both boys stared into the blaze almost mesmerizingly watching as it flickered and slowly devoured Mark. The stench of burning flesh, while different from how some monsters smelled when burned, was nothing new to either of them, but it certainly wasn't pleasant, and more than once their noses scrunched in distaste. When both of them looked up at roughly the same time, they made uncomfortable eye-contact, and held it briefly before immediately turning away.

"You shouldn't have done it," Sam's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Dad wasn't gonna let it go," Dean responded, his voice just as subdued. "He was gonna die anyway."

"No, I mean, you should have let me do it," Sam ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "Dad was right. This whole thing is my mess, and I should've been the one to clean it up."

"No, Sam," Dean's voice was sharper now, but still quiet. "None of this was your fault, okay? Mark was the monster who hurt you, Mark got himself into this mess."

"Human," Sam reminded Dean. "Mark was the human who hurt me. It was my responsibility to fight back, but I didn't, okay? I let Mark do whatever he wanted to me, and I didn't try to make him stop, or fight back, I just let it happen. And I'm supposed to respect Dad's authority, but I can't even do that right. Maybe Mark was right when he said I needed a week of re-training."

Dean had started to say something, stopped at Sam's last words, switching to address that instead. "He said what? When?"

"It doesn't matter," Sam shrugged.

"It matters to me," Dean insisted.

"My last night," he sighed. "I was taking a sort-of final test thing. He didn't explain the rules very well, so I got mad at him when I got something wrong, and I lost my temper. And since the main reason Dad sent me here was so that I would be more respectful, Mark said that it seemed like I hadn't learned my lesson and that he would have to keep me for a week of re-training."

"What made him change his mind?"

"I apologized right away," Sam turned at the sound of the back door being opened. Their Dad stood in the doorway, hand on his forehead, looking to see what they were doing.

"The fire's dying down," Dean observed. "We'd better head inside. You can have the first shower."

"Thanks," Sam started walking toward the house. Dean would have followed, but was stopped by his phone ringing in his pocket. The caller ID revealed it to be Bobby, and he answered immediately.

"Hey, you boys arrive okay?" Bobby wondered.

"Yeah Bobby, we made it."

"Know what you're hunting yet?"

"The uh, the monster's already dead," Dean cleared his throat. "I killed him."

"What was it? Shifter?" Bobby wondered, seeming to pick up that something was wrong.

"No it uh, it was-wasn't really a monster. I mean he was, in some ways, but uh, he was human," Dean's voice held a slight tremble to it. "I killed a human, Bobby."

"Where are you boys right now?" Bobby asked sharply.

"Mark's," Dean's voice was strained. "Dad had him all tied up, and he- Jesus Bobby he looked like he'd been tortured. Dad told us to come here because he wanted Sam to kill Mark. I had to kill him, or-or he was gonna make Sam do it. I know we're not supposed to kill humans, and I didn't want to, Bobby, honest," Dean defended. "I mean yeah, I hated him for what he did to Sammy, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about wanting him dead more than a couple of times, but I didn't wanna kill him." Dean's voice was anguished.

"Hey, it's okay son," Bobby reassured him. "I know. Why don't you put your daddy on the phone for me, okay?"

"Yeah, he's inside, one second," Dean went into the house, and found John in the study, nursing a glass of whiskey.

"It's Bobby," he explained, handing the phone to the man. He watched his father's face anxiously, straining to hear Bobby on the other end of the phone, but it was no use, the phone's volume was too low. John already looked furious, barely into the conversation, and was trying to get a word in edgewise with no luck.

"Now you listen here, Singer," John finally interjected. "You don't get to tell me how to raise my boys! They're both old enough to face their own problems, and I will not tolerate you coddling them all the time. You know as well as I do what happens when a hunter goes soft. I'm doing the best I can to make sure that my boys are safe. I would rather have two living boys who maybe don't have the most traditional childhood, than two boys who are dead!" He paused for a moment, then started to say more, but stopped just as quickly, jerking the phone from his ear and snapping it shut. He handed the phone to Dean.

"Sam's showering right now, I want you to take one when he's done, and then both of you get ready to go," John instructed. "It's 2:30 now, and I want to be on the road by 3:15. I've already found another hunt."

"But-"

"Is there a problem, Dean?" John questioned sharply.

"No sir," Dean deflated. He went out to the car to grab a change of clothes from his duffle, then stood by the bathroom door waiting for Sam to finish. As he was waiting, his phone rang again. It was Bobby.

"Bobby? Did you forget something?" Dean greeted the man in surprise.

"Your Daddy's crazy, boy," Bobby responded. "When you boys get settled at your next hunt, I want you to call me and tell me where it is. I'll come pick you up and take you to my house."

"Dad won't like that, Bobby," Dean protested.

"To hell with the bastard!" Bobby growled. "Sam's been through an incredibly traumatizing experience. He needs rest, and after today, so do you." His voice softened considerably as he continued. "Listen, you just follow your Daddy's lead, and don't raise any suspicion. Let me know where you all end up, and I'll come get you. I'll be the bad guy taking you both away against your will, okay?"

"I'm really fine, Bobby," Dean tried. "It's not like this was my first kill or anything."

"What about your brother?" Bobby pressed. "His chest was badly infected less than a week ago, and already John wants him hunting like usual. Sam's softer than you, he's not gonna be able to just ignore what happened. Just tell me where y'all end up so I can take care of you, please?"

"Yes sir," Dean promised. "Th-thank you, sir."

"You're my boys," Bobby insisted. "I'm always gonna protect my boys." The line clicked as Bobby hung up his phone. Less than five minutes later, Sam was walking out the door.

"Dad already found a new hunt," Dean informed his brother quietly. "He wants us ready to go by 3:15."

"I know, he told me," Sam responded quietly.

"How's your chest?" Dean wondered.

"S'okay," Sam rubbed it absentmindedly. "It doesn't hurt much unless I put pressure on it."I don't hardly notice it anymore."

"That's good," Dean nodded. "I'll check it over next time we stop, but I'm sure it's healing up fine."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "Dean?"

"Yeah Sam?"

"Thanks for watching out for me."

"Always little brother," he ruffled Sam's hair lightly. "Soon as we get a break, we'll go see a move or somethin'."

"If Dad will let us," Sam sighed.

"He's just-" Controlling, obsessive, compulsive. "Once we settle down for a few weeks we'll be able to." He couldn't bring himself to finish defending their father. Not today. Not after- not after Mark.

"It's not healthy," Sam asserted quietly, ensuring that only Dean would hear him. "His obsession with the hunt, with finding the thing that killed Mom. He treats us like soldiers, Dean, and we're just kids. He wants me to be able to kill, and not just supernatural beings. He made it pretty clear today that he's willing to kill anything, or anyone that gets in our way. It- it scares me, Dean."

"I know," Dean inhaled sharply. "What he asked of you today was too much," he paused. "You can't say anything to Dad, but once we settle in the next hunt location, Bobby wants me to tell him where we are. He's gonna come pick us up and have us stay with him for a while."

"Is Dad gonna let us?" Sam looked cautiously hopeful.

"Bobby said he's not gonna give Dad a choice," Dean turned to head into the bathroom. "Just make sure you don't say anything in the meantime," he warned.

"Yeah, I won't," Sam promised.

Dean took a quick shower, and dressed, then he and Sam packed their bags into the Impala. They went to let John know they were packed, and he instructed them to go find something to eat in the kitchen. They made sandwiches, and ate them in silence, but even without conversation, Dean could tell Sam was tense and anxious. Sam had put lettuce on his sandwich, and a piece was laying on the counter. Dean seized the opportunity to attempt to lighten the mood, and tossed the leaf at Sam's face.

"Dude, seriously?" Sam groaned, but Dean could see a flicker of a smile cross his face.

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" he grinned mischievously. Sam paused, thinking for a moment, and then reached into his sandwich, pulled out a piece of lettuce, and tossed it at Dean.

"Hey, no fair!" Dean protested. "Your leaf had sauce on it."

"Aww, was the widdle weaf to wet for you?" Sam poked fun.

"Yes," Dean smirked. "It was too moist."

"Eww, Dean, you know I hate that word," Sam scrunched his face in disgust.

"What, moist?" he spoke slowly, drawing out the word.

"Stop!" Sam tried to sound really upset, but a small laugh gave him away.

"Just look at that moist roast beef on your sandwich," he taunted. "Mmm, so moist and wet." Sam finally decided he'd had enough and set his sandwich down on the counter to push Dean. Dean, not to be outdone, set his sandwich down also, and soon they were wrestling around the kitchen. They were so into their antics, that they didn't notice their father had entered the room until he spoke.

"It's time to go," he commanded. "Stop horsing around, and get in the car. And Dean, wipe the mustard off your face."

"Yes, sir," they responded in subdued tones, immediately moving to obey him.

"You can have the front seat," Dean offered Sam.

"No thanks," Sam opened the door to the back seat instead. "I'm gonna try and read those books Bobby gave me. If I sit in the front, Dad's more likely to notice." Dean shrugged, and got in the passenger seat. John followed moments after.

"Where's the new hunt?" Dean asked once they were on the road.

"Lenox, Massachusetts," John responded. "Three suicides in three weeks, all at exactly midnight. Police think the second and third ones are just copycats, but it feels too coincidental to me. Ritualistic maybe." After that, they both fell silent, and the only sound in the car for hours was the quiet hum of the radio. When they stopped a few hours later at a small gas station to fill the car, Dean stepped out.

"Gonna hit the head," he explained. He went into the bathroom, and called to let Bobby know where they were headed.

"I'll be there a few hours after you all are," Bobby promised.

After the sun had set, and it was getting late, John pulled into a small motel off the side of the road.

"Bring your duffles in, but keep things packed," he ordered. "We're just here to catch a few hours of sleep before we're on the road again."

The next morning, John caught Sam pulling a book out of his bag before tossing it in the trunk, and he grabbed it from him.

"What is this?" he demanded. "Where did you even get this?"

"Bobby let me borrow them, sir," Sam's voice shook. "I s-started the series at M- the week I was training, and Bobby asked about it. Since I hadn't finished the series yet, he told me I could borrow his books and f-finish it."

"There's no point in reading this fairy tale crap," John looked furious. "If you wanna read books, read something useful, like lore books, or books about Latin and spells. Put it back in your bag, I want you to return those books as soon as you see Bobby again. And since you want something to do so bad, read this book about sacrificial rituals. You can tell me what you've learned after we get to Lenox."

"Yes, sir," Sam slid the book back into his bag, and took the lore book from his father. Dean, who had been returning the room key, showed up behind Sam, and tossed his bag in the trunk, making Sam startle violently at the unexpected presence. He glanced at the book in Sam's hands.

"Thought you were reading that Narnia series," he commented.

"He's getting a head-start on research instead of filling his head with fairytale nonsense," John rolled his eyes. "If you didn't get carsick I'd give you something to read too." Dean almost said something, but changed his mind at the last moment.

Their drive passed in silence, much like the day before, and they only stopped to get gas one more time, and through a couple of drive-thrus to eat. When they were about 4 hours out from their destination, and it was getting late, John swapped places with Dean and had him finish the drive and find a motel room for them to set up for the hunt. Dean made sure to let Bobby know which motel they had stopped at so that he would have an easier time finding them.

Sam, who had slept the most during the drive, was tasked with warding the room, before crawling into bed next to Dean. He had been dozing in the car for the last several hours of their journey, but now that he was finally in a bed, able to really get some sleep, he found it hard to relax. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Mark's tortured body falling lifeless. He found himself tossing and turning restlessly, and tried to keep it to a minimum, so as not to disturb Dean, but his brother noticed anyway.

"Dude," Dean whispered. "Usually you flop into bed and you're out cold to the world. What's going on?"

"Sorry," Sam whispered back. "I'll try not to move so much."

"Are you just not tired, or are you having trouble relaxing?" he wondered.

"Can't relax," Sam admitted. "It's too quiet, and my brain won't stop overthinking." There was a moment of silence, and then he heard soft humming coming from beside him.

"Dude, a lullabye?" he felt his face flush with embarrassment. "I'm twelve."

"Yeah? Well I don't wanna put in the mental effort to have a conversation with you, so I'm humming to get rid of the silence," Dean's voice left no room for question. "Now close your eyes and try to relax so I can go to sleep." As ridiculous as it felt, the soft melody beside him was enough for him to focus on and distract his brain from its rampant thoughts. After a few minutes, he could already feel himself drifting.

The space around him is a dark gray, almost black, and in front of him is a chair, with a figure slumped in it, surrounded by two people. He moves forward to see it closer, and sees that the two standing people are his dad and Dean. The figure in the chair is him. He's fighting against the ropes they have him tied down with and is sobbing. Dean holds a gun aimed at Sam.

"Come on, Dean," John is saying. "He's a monster. You have to take care of him."

"But Dad," Dean cries. "It's Sam, he's my brother. I can't kill him."

"Kill him now, or I'll kill both of you!" John commands.

"No, Sam!" Dean is sobbing now. "Sam, Sam, Sammy. Wake up Sa-"

Sam jolted upright, breathing heavily, with a scream caught in his throat. Dean was next to him looking concerned, and their dad was rolled over observing the two of them.

"What happened," John wondered.

"J-just a nightmare, sir," Sam trembled. "I'm okay."

"Alright," he sighed. "Go back to sleep, both of you. We have a lot of work to do in the morning."

Sam didn't think that he would be able to fall back asleep, but Dean's hand started carding through his hair, and he felt his eyes start to close despite himself.

Thankfully there were no more nightmares, and Sam woke up feeling decently well rested.

"It's been a while since you boys have gotten some training in," John decided. "I want you both to jog to the diner in town to pick up breakfast for us, and jog back. After breakfast we'll dive into research."

They quickly moved to obey their father, and do as he had asked. When they made it to the diner, Bobby was already there, sitting in a booth eating. He noticed them enter, and beckoned them over to him.

"You boys look like you ran here," he joked, not realizing his statement was true.

"We did," Dean answered. "Dad sent us to pick up breakfast. Had us jog for training purposes."

"First thing in the morning, before you've even eaten?" Bobby scoffed. "Idjit. Sit down and get some breakfast."

"We're just supposed to pick up some food for carry out," Dean said. "We have to get back home or Dad'll be worried."

"Well shit, let him worry," Bobby shrugged. "He can come get his own food, and when he gets here we can give him the good news that he's being relieved of his parental duties for a while." The brothers looked at each other, and easily reached the same decision, sitting down across from Bobby.

An hour later, when they had empty plates and cups half full of coffee, John finally stormed into the diner. He caught sight of them immediately, and made quick strides over to their table.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he growled under his breath. He looked furious, and suddenly crossing him felt like less and less of a good idea.

"Sorry, sir," Dean spoke first. "Bobby asked if we wanted to sit and eat. We should have told you."

"Told me?" John's voice lilted incredulously. "Is Bobby your authority now, instead of your own father?"

"No, sir, sorry," Dean hung his head. "We should have just come straight home."

"I swear you two are impossible," John exclaimed, his voice raising slightly and attracting the attention of some of the other patrons.

"Well John," Bobby finally spoke. "It's a good thing you won't have to worry about them for a while then. They're coming home with me to rest and recover after the shit that you put them through. Maybe I'll let you have them back, maybe not."

"Absolutely not," John bit out harshly. "You can't just take my sons away from me."

"Okay, John, how about this. I take your boys for a while, and give them a break from your insanity, or I call CPS on your ass, and they take your boys away permanently. Which option sounds better to you?" His voice is quiet, ensuring that no one else can hear him.

"Fuck you," John hissed, but he turned to leave anyway. "I'm going to get drunk. Your shit better be gone by the time I get back to the hotel room. If I die because I have to hunt alone, you're gonna regret this." He made eye contact with Dean, who shrank under his gaze.

When Bobby took them to the room to gather their things, Dean looked at Sam remorsefully.

"Stay at Bobby's as long as you can," he instructed. "I'll come visit as often as possible."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Sam worried. "Aren't you coming too?"

"Dad's right," Dean picked at his jeans. "He can't hunt alone. I'll stay with him, you go with Bobby. Finish that Narnia series for me, okay?"

"But Dean, Dad-"

"I'll be fine," he insisted. "Now go. That's an order, Sam."

"Okay," Sam hesitated for a moment before pulling Dean into a tight hug, which his older brother reciprocated. Sam grabbed his bag and left the room. Bobby poked his head in a moment later to try and change his mind, but Dean was quick to shut him down.

He would be fine, he told himself. Dad needed him more than he wanted to go have fun at Bobby's.

And when John came back to the motel that night, blackout drunk, and shoved Dean into the side table drunkenly slurring about how disappointing his sons were, Dean took the anger silently, and helped him to bed, thankful that Sam wasn't there to witness the violence. He iced the bruise blossoming over his rib cage, and reminded himself that his father loved him, despite the hurtful things he said in a drunken stupor.

He wouldn't remember the things he had said or done the next morning anyway; he never did.

At least, Dean consoled himself, at least Sam was safe.