A/N For better or for worse, we've come to the end. THANK YOU so much for all the support that you guys have shown for this story and for sticking with it when turned out to be kind of a monster.

I do have another story in the works but, for better or for worse, I've been funneling all my writing energy into this, so very little work has been done on my next one. And when I say little, I mean I've written just about ten pages...so yeah. But, on the bright side, I can focus completely on that and if all goes to plan (and the plot doesn't get away from me) I hope to have it up sometime in February or March. I do apologize in advance for the wait, but we are going back to the roots with season two and Bobby, so hopefully it will be worth it!

Chapter Twelve

Dean knew that Sam wanted to talk.

He'd been giving him non-so-subtle looks ever since Dean had gotten back with the food. Damn Cas, he'd known as soon as he'd left them alone together that he shouldn't have. They'd probably discussed him and everything that had happened, which meant that Sam would want to confront it.

But Dean wasn't ready to talk.

Not when Sam was still shaky and pale. Not when his arm had been broken three separate times and not when he'd just come back from the dead in the worst way possible. And if it was a little bit for Dean as well, because he hadn't really slept in days and he was exhausted and on edge, then it was just a bonus.

Sam shifted in his seat again, shooting Dean a sideways glance, and Dean gripped the wheel tighter, preparing himself. Sam would start with an easy question, something to lure him in and test the waters.

"So…" Sam began casually after the song that was currently playing had ended. "What happened to the other victims?"

Dean heaved a sigh, rubbing at his forehead. "I don't know exactly. Only one survived, and I think Cas said that they dropped her off at the hospital when they thought that she would make it. The newspapers are going to have a field day with it, that's for sure."

Sam snorted, shifting again with a wince and leaning more into the seat. "Yeah, that's probably an understatement. She's going to be the talk of the town."

"Yeah, well, at least she's alive."

Sam latched onto that, and he turned to more fully face him, but Dean couldn't do it.

"Dude, no. Not right now."

"Dean, I was—"

"Not right now. Later. We can talk about literally anything else you want to, just…not that."

Sam clenched his jaw in frustration but then he took a deep breath and his expression leveled out. "So what about those Dodgers, huh?" he asked, and Dean was impressed that he managed to keep any resentment that he might be feeling out of his voice.

He knew that he was pushing Sam off and that it wasn't fair to his brother but Sam was giving him more slack than normal and he wasn't above taking advantage of it. It also showed just how truly off Sam must be feeling because if his brother had been feeling up to par, there was no way in hell that he would have been content not having answers for this long.

Dean would answer all of Sam's questions. Just…later, when they were both up to it.

Sam didn't try again and about halfway through the drive to Ohio, he had fallen asleep leaning against the window.

Dean was absurdly grateful when they reached Cincinnati for more reasons than one. He was exhausted, and Sam was still recovering from being freakin' dead and God forbid that they get an actual bed for him to do it in.

Mary had texted them the location of the hotel that she and Jack were at, and they all waited in the parking lot for Cas to arrive before going in. They debated while they waited about how many rooms they should get until it was decided to simply get two double queen rooms. Cas didn't need to sleep, so Mary and Jack got a room while Dean and Sam got the other.

It was only going to be for a few hours. They would be up and going again once they all had a chance to sleep enough to not drive off the road. Sam, who had been bleary-eyed and quiet the whole time they were figuring out the motel situation, passed out again as soon as he had curled up under the covers.

Dean's sleep, however, was far from restful. He kept having weird dreams that would wake him up in a cold sweat. He couldn't remember what they were about, but they left him uneasy. He finally gave up sleeping as a bad job and simply laid there as time ticked on, counting every one of Sam's steady breaths. They were something that he wasn't going to stop being grateful for anytime soon.

He gave up on all pretense of sleeping when Sam snorted himself awake sometime in the early afternoon and looked around sleepily until he found Dean.

"Hey," he said, his voice thick and slurred, but this time it was just from sleeping too deeply. Not because he had been dead.

"Done doing your impersonation of Sleeping Beauty over there?" Dean asked, rolling over and sitting up to lean against the headboard while he let one leg trail over the edge of the bed.

"I feel like I've slept for a week, and yet I'm still tired," Sam mumbled into his pillow before scrubbing a hand over his face. "How about you? Did you get any sleep?"

Dean made a negatory face. "Some" he expounded as Sam raised an eyebrow.

Sam's face softened. "You wanna try for a couple more hours before we get back on the road?"

"Nah. I'm up now," Dean mumbled and got to his feet, stretching. "I'm going to take a shower. I'll be back."

Dean ran the water colder than normal, letting it wake him up fully. When he emerged again, Sam was sitting at the foot of the bed and making a pained expression as he tried to comb his fingers through his knotted and matted hair.

"You don't want to know," Dean said before Sam could even ask and he raised an eyebrow.

"I think that I kind of do. You still haven't told me much of anything."

Flashes of Sam's encased body lying in a grave and then on the bed danced before Dean's eyes, and he had to swallow the lump down. He still didn't want to talk about that, but Sam had been extremely patient so far, and he looked more aware this morning. Telling him that little bit couldn't hurt.

"After you…you know, then I took you back to the motel. Hayley, um—" Dean stumbled through the words, his stomach clenching. He wasn't doing a good job of this, but Sam was smart. He'd fill in the holes. "Well, long story short Hayley managed to get to your body and then she mummified you in this sort of grey casing and I don't think that she cared too much about keeping her little art project out of your precious princess hair," he said, trying to make it light and not sure that he succeeded.

Sam grimaced, lightly touching his hair once more. "That doesn't sound like fun."

"Yeah, you can be grateful that you weren't awake to experience any of it. I tried to get it out with rubbing alcohol, but I didn't have time to get all the knots out." Dean ran his fingers through his own wet hair, watching Sam carefully out of the corner of his eye.

"Fun for me, then," Sam shook his head in exasperation before looking back over. "Do we have any food?" The question surprised Dean.

"You mean besides the bagels that you never ate last night because you fell asleep or are you ready for actual food?"

Sam blushed a little, saying in his defense. "I'm hungry!"

"Well, I wasn't exactly sure when you were going to rise and shine. It wasn't like I can have warm food at the ready at any moment."

"I didn't say it had to be warm," Sam shot back.

"You're an idiot. Back from the dead? You deserve at least a hot breakfast. I'll go grab you something." Dean searched through his pockets until he found his car keys as Sam stood, leaning a little against the chair.

"I'm going to go shower, then, see if I can't get some of this gunk out of my hair."

Dean turned sharply back around, his heart suddenly beating in his throat before he could will it back down. "You sure that you're steady enough for that?" he asked, clutching the keys in his hand.

"Yeah. I'll be fine," Sam insisted nonchalantly but Dean wasn't so sure. Sam hadn't been exactly steady since he'd woken up and if Sam fell and hit his head or if he passed out…Cas was just a floor down but Dean would rather avoid that.

"Maybe you should wait until I get back."

Sam didn't stop digging through his duffle for fresh clothes. "I'll be fine. I feel better, just a little achy. And hungry." Dean hesitated and Sam half-turned, waving a hand at the door. "Go. Or I'm going to start in on your secret stash of M&M's."

"You don't even like M&M's," Dean muttered under his breath as Sam disappeared through the bathroom door.

He stood by the table, just stopping himself from going to stand outside of the bathroom to wait before he gritted his teeth and turned to the motel door. Sam was a grown man and competent in every way. It had just been an unlucky incident and Sam wasn't going to get himself killed while Dean was down at the diner, that was ridiculous.

Still, Dean found himself rushing while also trying to order anything that Sam could possibly want.

The shower was still running when he walked back into their room a half hour later with a couple of heavy bags of food. Opening up the boxes, he began to set the table even as he kept an ear out for his brother on the off chance that he needed anything. Sam had been in there long enough that Dean was just contemplating going over and pounding on the door when the water shut off.

"Freakin' princess," he muttered, even as he let out a breath, relaxing a little.

Sam emerged in jeans and a t-shirt and rubbing his hair dry about five minutes later.

"Had to wash it about three times to get it all out," Sam said from underneath the towel before tossing it to the side. He turned and his eyes widened before a smile appeared that was deep enough to show his dimples.

"We can't eat all that," he said, laughing a little. Dean looked back at the spread but refused to be embarrassed.

"It's not all for you, dude. The others will want to eat as well, we just get first pick because I paid."

Sam rolled his eyes but sat and began to fill the paper plate that Dean thrust at him. There was French toast, waffles, and pancakes, along with eggs and toast, even muffins. There was no bacon or sausage, however. On bad days Sam had a hard time with meats and Dean didn't know what kind of day it might be and there was no way that he was going to jeopardize Sam's hunger over something as stupid as the smell of breakfast meat.

Dean would survive without bacon for a day.

He handed Sam a cup of coffee as well before digging in on his own plate.

Sam was about halfway through his second helping, and Dean honestly couldn't have been more pleased, when the door opened. They both looked over to see that Mary had entered.

She swung her duffle off one shoulder and smiled at them in a way that didn't reach her eyes and Dean's heart dropped. Sam stopped eating, resting his fork against the plate as he looked between her and Dean, like he somehow thought that Dean knew what was happening.

This time Dean didn't, but the mere fact that Sam thought it dug the guilt that Dean sometimes harbored in deeper. Normally he could shove it away fairly easily and ignore the longing in Sam's eyes but not today. Not when Sam had been dead, and Mary hadn't even taken the time to have a one-on-one conversation with him yet.

Dean didn't know how to fix this.

"You want something to eat? We've got more than enough," he said, gesturing at the food helplessly.

"No. I've already eaten. I just came to say goodbye."

"You're leaving already?" Sam asked, trying and failing to keep his voice neutral.

"Yeah. Bobby was wondering where I was at. I was only going to be gone for a couple of days," Mary shrugged, shoving her hands deep into her pockets and rocking back on her heels, "so he was getting worried and, well, I figured that it was time to get back."

Dean looked over at Sam and immediately wished that he hadn't as he watched the disappointment and hurt flit across his face, but he thought that he was the only one to see it. Mary didn't seem to and Sam hitched the smile back on his face as if nothing had happened.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. We get it."

Dean didn't, and he wanted Sam to be mad about it. To demand that Mary stay with them and at least have a conversation with Sam. To let him know how much she loved him, how she had mourned for him.

Mary smiled at him and turned to Dean. Bending down, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gave him a hard hug. Dean returned it, if not as tightly as he might have normally.

"Travel safe. Let us know when you get back," he said stiffly and she nodded before moving around to Sam. Reaching out, she smoothed back his wet hair before cupping the side of his face. Sam closed his eyes, leaning into her touch and Dean wanted to be angry at Mary like he had been able to when Sam had been dead.

Sam wanted this so bad.

"Sammy," Mary said like that would somehow say it all, but it didn't. Dean didn't even think that it came close and he knew Sam felt the same, but even as he watched Sam fortified himself, letting the hurt roll off his back.

"I'm glad that you were able to make it. Stop by the bunker when you can," he said and Dean looked away.

Mary patted Sam's cheek, hugged him as well, and then turned, breathing out a long sigh. "Well, I've got to get on the road but I'll let you know when I'll drop by next, it shouldn't be that long," she said and then she was gone.

Dean shot Sam a sideways look out of the corner of his eye, watching him fiddle halfheartedly with his fork before taking a breath and forcing a smile in Dean's direction like he wouldn't be able to read the hurt in his eyes. Part of Dean wanted to confront it, but they had been letting it lie for so long now that it seemed useless to bring it up. Or at least that was what Dean was telling himself.

He'd…he'd think on it. Figure out how to talk to Sam, to let him know that he wasn't purposefully trying to exclude him.

"She'll be back. We'll see her again soon," Dean said in the meanwhile, wanting to erase the hurt from his brother's face.

"I know." Sam gave him another fake smile and then turned back to his pancakes.

Dean let the guilt linger for a moment and then pushed it to the back of his mind. Today, he was just going to be glad that Sam was alive and that Dean wasn't going to have to try and navigate this world without his brother by his side.

Sam absently reached up, rubbing at his left shoulder and Dean instantly clocked the movement.

"Is it still hurting?" he asked, already half out of his seat and ready to grab painkillers.

"Not really," Sam said, giving Dean a more real smile. "It's just sore."

"Probably is going to be for a while." Dean didn't want to say for the rest of Sam's life, even if he was sure that was going to be the case. He had aches and pains that haunted him, and he knew that Sam did as well. This was just another one that they could add to the list.

They finished up breakfast without another word and Dean boxed the rest of it up for Cas and Jack to pick over if they wanted to or for them to finish off later. Sam wandered back to his duffle and began to go through it. His movements were still slower than normal but Dean tried not to pay it any mind.

Cas was right. It might just take time for Sam to return to full health. This wasn't something to be overly concerned about.

"What are you looking for?" he asked after a moment because he'd been the last one to gather up Sam's belongings and would probably know where whatever it was that Sam wanted.

"My phone. I can't seem to find it. Do you…?"

Dean grimaced. "Oh, yeah, about that." He left the table, reaching for his jacket and going through his pockets until he found Sam's phone. "You're probably going to need a new one," he said, handing it over.

Sam frowned, looking at the cracked screen that feebly buzzed to life when he powered it on. The screen was almost undiscernible now and Sam heaved a sigh even as he tucked the phone into his pocket.

"Did you throw it against the wall?" he asked jokingly and Dean's heart skipped a beat. His face must have gone pale because Sam's smile slipped off his face.

"You left it behind, in the office upstairs of the funeral home. We think that Hayley stepped on it or destroyed it, or something," he said quietly before shaking his head and sinking down onto the edge of one of the beds. He didn't know why that had hit him like a truck just now, but it had.

"Dean?"

"Why didn't you have it on you?" he asked roughly, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Sam frowned, "I don't remember for sure. What happened that night— It's still a little foggy. I think—I just needed some air. I didn't even know that Hayley was going to show up."

"That doesn't explain why you didn't have your phone on you. If you had then maybe things would have ended differently."

Sam sighed, sitting next to Dean, close enough that their shoulders were just brushing. "It was a dumb mistake, and I knew it but by then it was too late. I had just gone down to check the locks, it was bad luck that she broke in right then."

Dean sniffed, blinking and trying to subtly wipe at his wet eyes. Sam bumped his shoulder against his lightly and Dean forced himself to take a deep breath. "Next time, keep your damn phone on you. At all times."

"Noted," Sam said dryly and Dean shook his head again, reaching over to smack Sam's arm before standing. Forcing a more real smile back on his face, he went back to the table. "Besides, this will at least stop you from getting notifications every ten seconds."

"Do they all know, then? The hunters?" Sam asked hesitantly and Dean shrugged.

"I think Mary told them. I mean, they would have guessed that something was up. You missed your check-in." He smiled grimly at his brother over the box of muffins.

"Great," Sam said softly and Dean could almost see his shoulders dropping, the weight of everything coming back to rest on them. Dean hated it more than he could say, but he knew that Sam would not be giving any of it up anytime soon.

"Sam, it's not going to impact their opinion of you. You can't be invincible, that's just—if they expect that of you then their idiots."

"No, I know, it's," Sam fumbled for a second before settling on, "I just hope that they're okay."

Dean didn't think that was fully the root of the concern but he let it slide. "Dude, you don't need to jump right back in. They'll be fine until you get back," he pointed out and Sam nodded.

"Right." He didn't sound like he believed it and Dean shook his head.

"No. They will be. I'm serious, you've been breaking your back for them and that—that has to stop. You've done a damn good job of getting them all trained up, so trust in that. Besides, I think that we should take a break for a few days." Dean was just deciding this now, but it did sound really nice.

"Maybe," Sam said and Dean shrugged. Sam wasn't going to be the one driving, although if he threw a big enough fit Dean would listen.

After everything that had happened, didn't they deserve a break?

Sam had picked up his phone again and was turning it over with a slightly mournful look, and Dean took pity on him. Digging through his pocket again, he pulled out his own phone and tossed it in his direction.

"You should give Jody a call at some point, and Donna. They were both calling, I'm sure to ask about you."

"Did you talk to either of them?" Sam asked, twisting a little to look at Dean. He felt his smile slip.

"No," he said firmly and Sam knew better than to pry.

"I'm going to make some calls. I'll be back," he said, standing.

Dean nodded, before yelling after him, "I want to leave within the hour!" and Sam raised a hand to show that he'd heard.

Much to Dean's surprise Sam was back long before the hour was up and helped him finish packing everything up. Dean didn't question it.

Cas and Jack found them in the parking lot before they could go in search of them.

"You guys headed back to the bunker?" Dean asked, handing Sam the last of the duffle bags so that he could put them into the trunk.

"Yeah," Jack said and Cas nodded.

"I think that we are ready to go back and regroup there," he said and Dean nodded in understanding.

"We'll be behind you but Dean wants to take the long way back," Sam said, shutting the trunk and then sticking his hands into his pocket.

"Once you do get back, then we will have to properly celebrate your return," Cas said, smiling and Dean lightly grabbed Sam's shoulder, giving him a friendly shove.

"You hear that? You're going to be a big deal."

Sam flushed, looking embarrassed, and shook Dean's hand off.

"No, nothing like that's going to happen," he said, pointing a finger in Cas's direction but Dean gave Cas a look behind his brother's back. If they wanted to throw Sam some big shindig celebration, then Sam himself had better not stop them.

After that they stood for a moment together, the silence heavy with the weight of what they had all been through, before Cas gestured at the car. "We'd better go, Jack."

Jack nodded, holding up a hand in farewell. Cas offered both Dean and Sam a smile and then they climbed into his car. Sam and Dean did the same and they followed them out of the parking lot and down the main street.

At the stoplight, Cas turned right and Dean left.

Sam looked over at him. "You really weren't joking about taking the long way."

Dean shrugged, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel to the beat of the music. "What can I say? My baby wants to feel the open roads. It's been too long; it'll do her good."

Before Sam could say anything else, Dean reached over and turned his music up. Grinning, he half turned to Sam and began to sing as loudly and as off-key as he could.

#

It was almost one in the morning when Sam woke up with his head against the car window and a blanket that he didn't remember getting draped over him.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He and Dean had been talking on and off about whatever crossed their minds and it had been…well, it had been more needed than Sam had realized. It had been a while since they'd had hours of nothing ahead of them and just the open road.

He hadn't meant to spoil it by falling asleep but, despite his best efforts to pretend otherwise, he was still recovering.

Stretching, Sam yawned widely and rubbed a hand over his eyes before glancing over at Dean, who had his head propped up in one hand as he drove and was humming almost silently along with the quiet music.

"You want me to take a turn?" Sam asked through another yawn and Dean threw a fond, if exasperated, look at him.

"Nah, I'm good."

Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't call him out on it. Dean had to be just as tired as he was but he would never admit to that. Stifling another yawn, Sam looked around.

They were in the middle of nowhere and there was nothing but rows and rows of corn around them. God only knew where the next town was. If they were going to get any sleep that night, it was probably going to be in the Impala.

Sam glanced up through the window. They'd left the storm behind in Vermont, and the stars were shining brightly overhead and he stared at them for a while as they drove in companionable silence, thinking.

"Hey. You should pull over," he said at last.

Dean's head jerked in his direction. "Why? You gonna be sick?" Already the Impala was slowing down but Sam rolled his eyes.

"No, dumbass. And not right here, somewhere we can stop for the night and see the stars."

Dean relaxed a little, the car speeding up again. "Next time don't announce it that way. And you did throw up yesterday, in my own defense," he grumbled.

It wasn't long after that Dean found a secluded spot and pulled over.

"I'll get the beer," Sam announced and when he had got back to the front of the car, a six-pack in hand, Dean was already sitting on the hood.

"You going to be able to get up here without help?" Dean teased and Sam flipped him the middle finger as he pushed himself up. The hood was still warm from the engine and he settled back before he opened two beers, passing one to Dean.

Dean sighed and then leaned back against the windshield, staring up at the sky. Sam remained upright, nursing his beer even as he stared upwards. The stars never failed to amaze him with their beauty while also managing to remind him of his own nothingness. Of how the world kept turning, with or without him.

Some day he was going to leave this world behind for good.

Sam opened his mouth and didn't say anything so he took a long swallow instead. They needed to talk and get everything out in the open. Otherwise, they never would and it would become one more regret later when one of them was dead for real.

Hell. Dean had hardly been able to tell him the bare details of what had happened. He needed to get it out and Sam finally had the energy the confront it.

"You know," Sam said at last as he played with the corner of the label on his bottle. "That night, at the funeral home, I couldn't—I wasn't able to move much towards the end. So I was just lying there and I was looking at the stars." Dean had gone rigid next to him but Sam didn't look at him, keeping his gaze focused on the heavens. "And I was thinking that we should do this more. Do you remember how we used to do this literally all the time? When we were living out of the Impala more?"

Dean tried to say something but his voice caught and he cleared it roughly before trying again. "Yeah. Of course."

"Anyway. I was just…I was just thinking about that right now."

Dean was silent for several long moments, not even lifting his beer to take a drink before finally saying in a hushed tone, "Did it—" he broke himself off abruptly before saying, "I know that you were alone. That couldn't have been—I'm sorry, I should have been there."

Sam waved away the apology. "Dying's never exactly fun, but I was alright." Dean shot him a disbelieving look. "No, really, it wasn't—it was better than when Anna killed me or when I jumped into the cage. I…" Now it was Sam's turn to fumble over his words. "Those were really bad because I wasn't sure—I just, that was when you were mad at me, and rightly so, but now we're in a better place. And this time it wasn't like I wanted to sacrifice myself or anything."

Dean shuddered next to him before he brought a hand up to cover the side of his face, and Sam had the suspicion that he was trying to hide tears. His choked voice confirmed it. "That's good, Sammy. I—those weren't good times."

They were both silent a moment until Dean broke it. "I left you alone. I—I was out drinking while you were dying. I was having a cold one and a good time with Cas and Jack while you were bleeding out. I wasn't even the one who found your body."

That brought Sam's head around in surprise. He hadn't known that and he'd just assumed that it had been his brother. "You didn't? Then who did?" If some poor worker had walked in on him then Sam was going to feel terrible. It could not have been a pretty scene, there'd been a lot of blood.

"Cas. Cas and Jack," Dean said softly, not looking at him again. "They'd gone to switch places with you. Mom had just gotten into town and they wanted us to be able to spend time alone with her. I had to get a call, Sam. A call where they told me that you were—" Dean was struggling, his voice near to breaking once more, "That you were dead. And I had to walk into that funeral home knowing that and then take you back. I had to clean you up. I had to prepare you for burial. And all I kept thinking was maybe this wouldn't have happened if I had been there and how I failed you. I shouldn't have let you convince me to stay behind."

Sam shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dude, that's not on you. I was the one who made the decision and even if you had been there, it probably wouldn't have made a difference. You might have ended up dead as well."

Dean made a face. "Better both of us dead than just you," he said truthfully and Sam couldn't debate it. God knew he felt the same about Dean. It was just too damn hard to live without the other. Dean continued before Sam could vocalize the thought. "Man, all I wanted those few days was to bring you back. To make things right."

Sam lightly elbowed Dean. "But you didn't do anything stupid, you kept your head."

Dean snorted, his focus on his beer. "I didn't want to. I wanted to bring you back with every fiber of my being and I was even thinking about praying to Michael." That made Sam shiver. No. There was no way that he was worth that. "I wanted to so bad that it hurt, but I learned my lesson last time. I really was ready to respect your wishes, I want you to know that. Not until we realized what the Du'a Jiraataa were and what they could do."

That meant more to Sam than he would ever be able to put into words.

"Thank you," he said, matching his brother's quiet tone. He knew better than anyone what kind of sacrifice that was.

"Don't you thank me. Don't you do that," Dean said thickly. "After what happened with Gadreel—" Dean had to pause again and he momentarily raised his hands to cover his face before dropping them again. For Sam, that pain was an old hurt and it slid by with only a twinge but the pain on Dean's face was raw. "Sammy, I don't know if I ever even apologized. I screwed up so bad with that and I didn't even realize just how messed up what I had done was. I just let Gadreel possess you, because I was a selfish bastard. But now I realize—I didn't before—that it was one of the worst things that I could have ever done. It is—terrible doesn't even begin to—and I did it to my own brother."

Sam reached out, laying a hand on Dean's arm. Some part of him had longed to hear this apology, even years later when he still thought about how much that had hurt. How deep that betrayal had cut.

"Dean, I forgave you for that a long time ago." That was also true. Forgiven, but not forgotten. That was one scar that had been etched deep into his soul but he also understood. He'd done dumb things too when Deans's life—when his very soul—was on the line.

"You shouldn't have." Dean's voice was dripping with self-loathing and disgust at his past actions.

Sam smiled crookedly. "You forgave me for starting the apocalypse. For almost killing you with my bare hands."

This time it was Dean's turn to shake his head. "That's not even in the same ballpark. You were addicted, out of your head and, not to mention, manipulated. I knew what I was doing. I knew that you wouldn't want me to do it, but I still did it."

Sam huffed sadly. "And I also let out the Darkness and got Charlie killed. Dean, we could play this blame game forever. We've got too many battles under our belts. We can't do this now."

Dean took another long sip, finishing the last of his beer. Dropping it down by the side of the car, he reached for another and took another long swallow before saying in a calmer voice. "If you die again, I won't bring you back, but you should know that I can't go live the life that you want me to. No, listen, Sammy," he held up a hand, forestalling Sam before he could start. "I've done a lot of thinking the past few days. About what has happened when you've, you know, before. About Jake stabbing you, about Hell. About the decisions I made each time it's happened."

"I can imagine," Sam said dryly. He'd been there before. Those weren't good thoughts.

"Sammy, I thought a lot about Ben and Lisa." That brought Sam's head around. They didn't talk about Ben and Lisa, not really, it was too painful a subject for Dean. "I can't—Sammy, I can't do that again. I feel like you have this sort of expectation of what's going to happen when you die if you die before me and God, I hope not. I feel like you think that I can just prance off and go find that again, but I can't do it. I don't think that I can go live some apple pie life."

Sam's stomach dropped and he closed his eyes. He didn't want to believe that. More so, he didn't want Dean to believe it. Dean had flourished with Ben and Lisa, he knew that he had, despite what he tried to tell him. Dean deserved so much more than the hunting life of pain and misery.

Dean was a family man through and through if he didn't have Sam then he would need something to focus his love towards something else.

"I—" Sam didn't know what he could say that would help Dean understand and he felt tears prick in his own eyes. He just wanted Dean to be happy.

"No, seriously. I wasn't any good at it."

"Yes, you were," Sam protested stubbornly.

Dean scoffed. "I wasn't happy. I put on a damn good façade because I thought that was what you wanted and that had been my promise to you, but, man…the only reason you didn't pick up on it was because you were a soulless dick-bag. I was miserable. I was paranoid. I mean, I made Ben and Lisa move more than once. I got blackout drunk more than I want to admit to, especially at the beginning. The nightmares were really bad and they…just didn't get it. I loved them. I really did love them and I always will, but they didn't understand and I felt really alone a lot of the time."

Sam still didn't say anything, a lump in his throat, and Dean sat up with a sigh. "Sam, even if I wanted to go live that kind of life I can't. Not with you dead, because when I lose people I care about, my head goes right out the window. Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know that I've said things to you that still haunt you from when I thought that Mom was dead, or when Charlie died or Cas, or whoever. When I lose people, I get angry. I get desperate and I hurt others. I'm not fit for a life not filled with violence, and if it's you…" Dean trailed off, his voice cracking with emotion and he had to take a deep breath before he could continue. "I'm not proud of it, but I went off the rails. I was mad at Mom and said some things that I can't take back. Same with Cas and even Jack. I was mad at myself too and I wasn't happy. I was miserable and all I cared about was taking care of you, and then getting revenge. It wouldn't have been any different if I had a family like Ben and Lisa. It probably would have been worse because I would have lashed out at them as well. Even if I had an ideal situation, I would still manage to destroy it for myself and the others around me. It wouldn't be fair to anyone."

Sam looked away, taking a deep breath. The stars were blurred now and he blinked his eyes clear.

If he couldn't be there for Dean, then he needed to know that someone was there to watch his brother's back, but he knew that to some extent Dean was speaking the truth.

He'd seen the many missed calls on Dean's phone when he had borrowed it earlier and had seen the handful of texts from Cas and Mary, mostly pleas for Dean to call them, or let him know where he was even at. Cas had basically told him last night that Dean had isolated himself and pushed the others away.

He didn't know how to help his brother past this, he didn't even know where to start. How could he help Dean to see that he was allowed to be happy if Sam was dead? That he wasn't meant for a life that was all violence and blood.

Dean took his silence as rejection. "I just can't picture it. I'm either going to hunt until I die or get obsessive until I find a way to bring you back. I'm not doing that again. I'm not hurting you like that, so I guess it's the first one."

"Dean—"

"No, I know it's the truth and I'm okay with it, really. The sooner I get out of this hell hole if you're not here, the better." Dean was aiming for a laugh but Sam couldn't joke about it.

"That's not funny," he managed to get out in a thick voice and Dean sobered quickly.

"I know. It's just, that's not for me, Sammy, but…but I want you to know that I'm okay with it being alright for you."

That brought Sam's head around with a jerk. "What?" He hadn't expected that, not in a million years, not with their history.

Dean relaxed back into his original position and blew out a sigh. "I also thought a lot about the times that I screwed up, and not just with, you know, Gadreel or the deal. I've sometimes raked you over the coals for things that I had no right to and since I have you back, I want to make something clear. If I die—"

Sam's stomach turned to ice at the thought and he felt his heart skip a beat. No, never that.

"—then I've come to terms with the fact that you're probably going to leave this life behind and go have that white picket fence that you've always dreamed of. Maybe even have a couple of mini-Sammys." Dean broke into a wistful smile and this time it was Sam who had to clear his throat so that he could speak.

"I've only ever lived this life for you, Dean." He'd sacrificed everything for Dean when he'd walked out of his and Jess's apartment.

"I know, and I love you for it." Dean threw Sam a crooked smile. "I just wanted you to know that if I ever kick the bucket before you do, that I understand it now. It wouldn't be like Stanford or Purgatory."

Sam didn't say anything for a long moment as he finished ripping the label off the bottle, unsure of how to say what he wanted to.

That had been hell for him. Even the white-picket fence of his childhood dream was not appealing, not without Dean. They had been through too much together for either of them to be truly happy or content without the other one present. His time with Amelia had gotten him through that experience alive, but it hadn't actually been living.

Sam just didn't think that he could continue hunting with Dean gone. Not even for the other hunters. It was the lesser of two evils because if he stayed hunting, he was more than afraid that sooner rather than later he would end the world again just to get Dean back. He had to take the option off the table.

"I'm no good without you either," Sam said, now rubbing at the glue that the label had been attached to. "I mean, I started the apocalypse the first time round and when Michael disappeared with you—you think I'm bad now, you should have seen me then. It was—I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't stop thinking about what you were going through, how horrible it was. How I had never wanted you to go through that."

"I know." Dean leaned forward just enough to knock his beer bottle lightly against Sam's shoulder, his expression serious but also soft. It was an acknowledgment of everything they had been through, and that a lot of it had really sucked. But they were still here, and they were still together despite everything that had happened.

"Hey—" Sam looked back at Dean. "What if we both just throw in the towel?"

"What? Like retire?" Dean frowned but Sam didn't give up. It was a conversation that they had had before, and probably would again but it didn't stop the hope from blooming.

"Yeah. Like that. We could go live that apple pie life—together."

Dean was silent for long enough that Sam was giving up hope on him answering at all when he said, "Do you really think that we could do that? I mean, you're chief and I've got to figure out the Michael problem. And if it's not that, then it's something else. I don't think that the world is ever going to let us retire."

"But what if we did," Sam was warming to his subject and he leaned forward eagerly. "What if we could. Would you…?"

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe. I don't know, Sammy. I'll think about it, though. It wouldn't…if you were there, then maybe," he conceded.

That was enough for Sam, and he smiled and took the last sip of his beer. Reaching back, he pulled out the last bottle and popped the lid off.

"Hey—to still being alive and together," Dean said, raising his still mostly full bottle in a silent salute and Sam did the same.

Then there was only the sound of crickets and the wind in the fields. It was peaceful and Sam eventually leaned back against the windshield as well.

All was still until his brother began to snore.

Looking over, he found Dean sound asleep, the beer bottle limp in his hand.

Sam couldn't imagine a life without Dean, not in the big moments, not in the small. He didn't want that life.

Smiling fondly, he removed the bottle from Dean's hand before he could spill it and then took a sip.

It was cold out, and he took his jacket off and laid it over his brother's shoulders. Dean shifted, rolling a little bit more onto his side and crossing his arms over his chest even as he murmured sleepily, "Don't need your jacket. I'm not some whiny bitch."

"No, but you are a jerk." Sam's smile grew as Dean's lips twitched upwards.

"That's right, I forgot. You're the bitch here."

Sam rolled his eyes even as he settled onto his back, one arm under his head.

The stars twinkled overhead and he stared up at them.

Maybe one day he and Dean really would retire.

It was the only way that he could see a happy ending for both of them and, if Dean asked, then he would retire as soon as he could figure out what to do with the other hunters. Well, maybe he'd become something like a Bobby figure. They probably both would.

It was something to think about, anyway, even if it was just a distant dream to hold onto but Sam always had been a dreamer.

Next to him, Dean started to snore again and Sam heaved a sigh, taking another swallow of Dean's beer.

Someday, maybe, but for this moment he was just going to be grateful that he and Dean, despite everything else, still had each other.

For them, that was enough and always would be.

The End