Final chapter? Final chapter. I love this fic, and I'm amazed at how far I've come, both with this fic and writing in general. It's been a wild ride, but in a good way! Never had I thought I could write something over 20k, let alone something nearing the 40k.

Thank you for reading, thank you for the kudos. If you've left a comment, please know that you have a special place in my heart. If you're a guest user and you've left a review, it's very important that you know I've seen your reviews and I love you for it. Thank you.

Dean made Sam swear not to tell any soul, dead or living, how he managed to wash up a little using the freezing water from Lake Michigan and change into clean clothes while Sam rowed them back to shore. Dean took over when he was done and immediately regretted it. No sane person liked rowing, he was certain.

Despite the baby-wiping and near-ice bath, the low temperature did not affect Dean. Instead, he felt feverish, a side-effect of the Mark's killing haze. The clouds of steam he breathed out were considerably bigger than Sam's.

Unfortunately, his clothes were beyond ruined and he threw them overboard with some regret. Sam hadn't thought to bring a change of clothes for himself, so he made do with what they had.

They were close to the shore when Dean couldn't handle the worry in Sam's eyes anymore. "I'm fine," he said, even though he was anything but. His entire body ached and he was so exhausted he could fall asleep while rowing if he closed his eyes a microsecond too long.

"Sure." Sam was equally unconvinced.

Dean took a break to rest his arms and rubbed his face — this time his hand came back clean. He changed the subject. "Where are the kids?" He vaguely remembered Sam telling him, but he had retained little other information.

"I left them in the car." Sam raised his hands in defense when Dean opened his mouth to protest. "It's freezing out here and it wouldn't do anyone any good to have them die of hypothermia just before they're reunited with their parents, would it?"

Dean shuddered at the thought of those grubby little hands all over the Impala. Still, he shut his mouth, though he had the sudden urge to see his Baby with his own two eyes.

The brothers hadn't thought to bring any blankets, other than a ratty forgotten thing Sam had found lying in the trunk. He had improvised by covering the kids in the shirts and jackets they had packed. Neither brother saw the point of returning to their motel room after this so they had packed all their stuff prior to coming here. That turned out to be a smart decision. Their clothes on those small kids would have looked comical if they hadn't all been freezing their asses off, waiting for the captain to show up. He had promised to bring ambulances and additional backup to take care of the young victims. The smallest ones were stuffed in the Impala, where it was a few degrees warmer than outside, where Sam, Dean, and the two oldest sacrificial kids were standing around being awkward.

The girl, who had introduced herself as Andy, was asking them all sorts of questions about hunting, but Dean wasn't really paying attention as he stood off to the side. It took everything already to stay awake let alone the idea he could contribute something meaningful. Sam covered for him by engaging with the older kids while Dean was zoning out in the background. Despite the current lighthearted mood between the brothers right now, Dean had trouble shaking the feeling they weren't done talking about Dean's feelings yet. Yay.

He watched how Sam interacted with the kids, who were already starting to show careful smiles again in response to something Sam said. They hadn't broken while in captivity and they were amazing for that. In his cold, dead heart Dean also felt a burst of pride at his little brother. After everything was said and done, Sam would be all right. He would find the perfect wife, have a dozen offspring to dote on, and live until the ripe age of 103. Sam would be the white picket fence life personified. He had always had a future. Dean could see it clearly and it was beautiful.

And Dean? Dean would count himself lucky if he made it till next week. At this point, it wasn't even a pessimistic point of view anymore, he was just being realistic about it. And once he was finally dead and burned? Sure, Sam, Cas, and a handful of people would miss him, but it was hard to screw people over in death as he had in life. They would get over him eventually. That was the life they lived as hunters.

He had no death wish, that wasn't exactly it, nor was he actively trying to die. He was simply put in situations too often where he had to risk his life for the cause. And that was a good life in his book, hell, he even preferred it to others doing the same. But him risking his life time after time and him having a death wish were two completely different things. Sam disagreed, of course, the one time they broached the subject. And it stayed with that one time because neither of them would concede and their bickering created a huge amount of tension during one of their longer road trips shortly after.

Sam could have all the opinions he wanted, but that didn't change the fact that this mindset was a direct result of the mold John had forced Dean into after Mary's death, and after so many years, it was the only thing he knew. It was so ingrained in his soul that it would require a herculean effort to change his core self and, well, Dean was no hero. Saw no need to be one, either. He didn't see anything wrong with going to great lengths to do the right thing. Things had gotten much more complicated than ten years ago, especially after his time in Purgatory — the one place where he had been truly free — and while it had been hard to force himself back into that cage of who he was supposed to be, when he had he found it still fit him like a glove.

The crunch of boots on asphalt distracted him from his thoughts. Sam approached him like he would a wounded animal. If Dean weren't so tired he would be pissed, and if Sam asked him again how he was doing he would receive a punch in the face. Luckily, Sam saw that message written on Dean's face and simply stood next to his brother.

After a few minutes of observing the younglings, Sam broke the silence that hung between them. "Do you think Jody solved her case?" He mused.

Dean answered almost reluctantly. "Knowing her and her merry sidekick, they probably ganked the son of a bitch before we ganked ours." Dean grinned at the thought of Jody being her badass self, the first real positive emotion since the aforementioned ganking. He sobered up when he remembered what an absolute bloodbath it had been. Checking his spare watch, he winced at the time. "We'll call her. Tomorrow," he emphasized the last word. He imagined she wouldn't be too keen on being woken up by the two of them for a welfare check.

Sam offered a tired smile in response and didn't comment any further.

Only now did Dean notice that Sam had bandaged the girl's — Kaity, he realized her name was — ankle and some of the kids were munching on Sam's stash of granola bars. It wasn't exactly the welcome-back feast they deserved, but it gave them enough of a boost as they waited for actual help to show up.

And when that help finally showed up, just as the first snow of the season started falling from the sky, Sam and Dean retreated to the background as much as possible. Thankfully it was dark and everyone was tired. It meant no one noticed the blood beneath Dean's nails or in Sam's hair. At almost two in the morning, the kids were in no state to be questioned at this late hour, so after the EMTs gave them all a check-up they would be taken home to their parents. Dean let the cops break the news to Dennis about his mom. That was not a conversation he wanted to have with the kid. Or anyone, for that matter.

When questioned, the brothers stuck to the same script. The boat was gone, which meant that all evidence of any wrongdoings from both sides had disappeared with it, which meant it would be extremely difficult to prove something different. Their statements contained the vague "unknown assailant, found the kids locked up, assailant sank the boat before they could stop them, they prioritized the kids' safety". Technically, none of it was a lie, though they fudged the details a little bit where it mattered. By the time the kids would tell their side of the story, that was if the cops believed them, Agents James and Cornelius would be long gone. Captain Watson was going to need his imagination to come up with an explanation as to why a group of kids collectively were going to claim to have been kidnapped by a children's story figure. And Nicky's story wasn't even from around here. The relief of the kids being alive and well would probably make that this whole affair was quickly forgotten.

Shortly after they gave their statements, when no one was paying attention to them just long enough, Sam and Dean slipped away. Their job was done and there was no more reason to stay. Dean beat Sam to the car and slid into the driver's seat. Touching the steering wheel grounded him. It was a good thing they had moved the car before the cavalry arrived, because now Dean could have an emotion in peace. Sam took longer to take up the seat next to him, maybe to give him that little bit of space where it wouldn't be too obvious. Not that it wasn't obvious, but he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

As Dean drove away slowly and with the headlights off, he gave the group a wide berth, all to ensure he wouldn't alert anyone of their exit. A second reason for driving carefully was that he didn't want to hit a tree and damage the Impala. Nobody stopped them and they didn't look back.

Sam sighed when they were many miles removed from their self-created crime scene. "I can't wait to be home."

That line shot through Dean's exhaustion straight into his heart. He tried not to be a sap but that kernel of love — Sam calling the bunker home — caused him to freeze up for a split second. He would never admit it to his giant of a little brother, but those tiny sparks of affection they each allowed themselves to show the other was the one thing that had kept Dean going for so long. Life without Sam, well, Dean would rather not think about it. He had experienced it twice already, albeit to different levels of deadness, and he was certain his heart couldn't take a third time.

Sam said 'home' so dismissively, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And to anyone else it probably was normal to go home after a hard day's work, but to them? Dean hadn't called anything but the Impala home ever since he was four years old. He had no words to describe his love for a few outdated rooms they had thanks to some family they never really knew. Even now, it was still the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on because it was theirs.

Despite his big-boy feelings, Dean remained silent. Even though it felt somewhat awkward, there was no way he was going to risk causing a stupid fight when their energy wells had pretty much run dry. Instead, he internalized his feelings and found a dormant Mark of Cain, sleeping off its bloody hangover. Dean found the quietness of the Mark maybe even more disconcerting than the infernal itch he was so used to. That itch, that need to kill was something he knew how to deal with, but with the Mark temporarily satisfied he almost felt normal again. That scared the crap out of him, because there was no normal, not until both Cain and his cursed Mark were gone and forgotten. How long that would be? He sure wasn't holding his breath. Sam wasn't either, though the lack of information he could find on the subject was killing him on the inside.

Sam was unbothered by Dean's unresponsiveness. Not long after, he followed his statement up with a yawn so big Dean could see what Sam had eaten for dinner. Dean hoped his face would stay that way, except Sam had the last laugh when an infected Dean matched his level of exhaustion.

"You okay?" Sam asked him with a laugh. "Do you want to pull over so you can take a break? Or I can take over for a few hours."

Dean's brain instantly short-circuited at the thought of letting go of the steering wheel. It was the one thing grounding him right now. His second thought was that he wasn't prepared to see the horrors of today represented in his nightmares yet once he closed his eyes. "Nah, I'm good," he lied. "That yawn was your fault, anyway."

Sam's lie-o-meter must have been going crazy, because he shot Dean a dark look that said exactly what he thought about lying about this.

Dean caved under that scrutiny and took the first exit they encountered. He parked the car away from the road and killed the engine. The silence that followed was deafening.

He peered through the windshield. Even in the dark, they had a nice view of Lake Michigan, though it was hard to see where the vast lake ended and the cloudy sky began.

Sam turned to his brother, who prepared himself for the incoming rant. "You're not 'good', Dean." He made quotation marks with his fingers for emphasis, which Dean thought was a very Cas-like move. "You've been awake for almost forty-eight hours — yes I'm aware you didn't get any sleep last night," Sam added when Dean tried to interrupt, "and it's not like you've been chilling on a beach sipping margaritas this whole time."

Dean kept his groan on the inside. Yes, he hated Sam sometimes. To know that Sam was so attuned to him even when he was asleep that he knew if Dean was getting his four hours… It was something Dean couldn't deal with right now.

Sam opened his mouth to continue, but Dean shut him up. Now it was his turn to talk. "You're right, I could use a break," he admitted, which was much truer than he let on. His acquiescence stunned Sam into a longer silence. "But," Dean said, "you take the backseat. I'm still older than you, so I call dibs."

The look of pure relief on Sam's face hit Dean right in the kokoro. Sam moved quickly and without complaint, probably afraid Dean would change his mind if he commented. They both made themselves comfortable however they could in an uncomfortably tight space.

This was their second-best bed after the bunker's and Dean wouldn't want to change it for the world. It was cold outside, but they were comfortably warm. Most was well in the world again, apart from a couple of blemishes.

"If you get kidnapped by mermaids, don't expect me to come rescue you," Dean said with his eyes closed. It would be just their luck if mermaids were living in Lake Michigan.

Sam snorted in the backseat. "If the mermaids were hot you'd join me without hesitation."

Dean's lips twitched. "You're damn right I would."

Sam, whose sleep debt wasn't much lower than Dean's, was asleep within minutes. Apart from his quiet breathing, everything was silent. But sleep stayed out of Dean's grasp, so he let his thoughts wander.

The quiet unnerved him, so when his phone vibrated his heart eased slightly. He grabbed the phone from his pocket. After a quick look at the display, Dean first checked if Sam was anywhere near consciousness, but he was still very much conked out.

Dean exited the car quietly so as to not disturb Sam. Even the door cooperated and only creaked faintly. A light dusting of snow already covered the ground, with more falling from the sky. He refused to think about a possible white magical wonderland come morning.

"Jody," Dean greeted her in a subdued voice as he walked away from his sleeping brother and leaned against the hood. "I was just thinking about you."

"Where's Sam?"

Dean smiled at no one in particular. He was always happy to hear her voice. "He looked like a panda, so tired he was. He's getting some well-deserved shuteye right now. Say you have good news."

Jody laughed at Dean's get-straight-to-the-point attitude. "I figured you'd be awake at this hour. The good news is that we killed some vampires tonight."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "So it was vamps?"

"Yep," Jody confirmed, "and get this. They cared about the environment so much they recycled their victims' possessions."

Dean made an 'aah' sound. "In other words, they were broke and robbed those people of their stuff and then their lives."

"Bingo, you're through to the final round. The grand prize is a dishwasher." Jody's sarcasm was refreshing after being stuck with Sam for so long.

"We could use one of those," Dean played along. Then he turned serious. "Is there also bad news? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Jody cleared her throat. "But, uh, Hibbing is going to need a new sheriff. He was one of them."

Dean's eyes widened. "No freaking way." Then something registered. "Wait. You said 'we'. Donna helped?"

"She did. I was very impressed by her. She's got skills. Even beheaded a vampire all by herself with minimal instruction," Jody beamed through the phone like the proud mom friend that she was.

"Huh." Dean was impressed and was sure Sam would agree. It encompassed everything, including 'I didn't think she had it in her' and 'I'm surprised she adjusted so easily to vampires being real'.

"Yeah, she's a natural. I offered to teach her some tips and tricks and she seems eager to learn."

"Who would have thought Donna would ever gank a vampire," Dean smiled.

A car door slammed closed on Jody's end. "How are things in Kansas?"

Dean looked over his shoulder at the Impala and the sleeping figure inside. "We're all right. Though we're not in Kansas at the moment," he added almost as an afterthought. He gave her a quick rundown on everything that had happened, but left out the Mark and the abysmal control Dean had over it. Jody was family, but he didn't want anyone else to carry the burden of knowing, not even her. The Mark was a Winchester problem, with only very few exceptions, and on a need-to-know basis when the situation required it.

"Every time I talk to you boys you've come up with a new monster to kill. Can you stop that?"

"Only when they're all dead and gone," Dean declared, leaving no room to argue. It was either that or when he was gone and dusted for the last time.

Jody sighed. "Yeah, I figured you'd say that."

They were quiet for a minute. Dean wasn't sure what to say next. The gentle lapping of the lake's water filled the silence on his side. Dean stayed far away, just to be sure there really were no alluring fish-tailed ladies swimming around.

"Dean?" Jody's concerned tone made Dean want to grab his phone so tight it would break. He refrained, though, even if she was about to get into his business. This was probably the main reason she called and the lead-up to it was only meant to put him more at ease.

Dean hummed, attempting to sound like he didn't want to disappear into the ground. "What's up?"

Jody put on her mom voice, never mind that she was only a couple years older than him. "How you doing, kiddo?"

"Me? I'm fantastic. Why?" The lie came out smoothly, like he hadn't been covered head to toe in blood just a few hours ago. He should have gone into politics instead of hunting when he was this good at lying, even to the people closest to him.

Jody interrupted his daydream. "Word around the campfire is you went off the res a couple of months back."

Dean refrained from looking at Sam again. That son of a bitch. "That right? You and Sam been passing notes during class?" He sounded more indignant than intended. He winced at no one in particular.

He shouldn't have been surprised Sam had talked to Jody. In fact, he should have expected it from him had he not been a demon who didn't care about anyone or anything, including himself. As much as Dean would have been furious with him before, he had come to understand Sam's desperation after he undemonized. He couldn't imagine the pain Sam had felt seeing him like that. And they were far from solving this teeny tiny problem still.

Jody remained silent, waiting for an answer to her welfare inquiry. Smart lady. Dean would grab every opportunity to change the subject and she knew it.

Dean sighed, though not loud enough for her to hear. "It's nothing I can't handle." Also a lie. Without Sam being the brains and having his back, he would be lying dead in a ditch within a week. And that was a best-case scenario at the moment.

Obviously, that didn't convince Jody. "Just saying, I make a mean bowl of chowder if you ever need to talk. Both of you."

Dean's heart involuntarily overflowed with love for this woman who had acted as their surrogate mother for so long now. He couldn't even remember the last time he had chowder. "I'll pass it along. I appreciate it," he added quickly, "we appreciate it." He managed to keep his voice from breaking. Today had absolutely not been a good day for emotions.

"And hey," Dean's voice was thick, "same goes for you, you know."

"I know." Jody cleared her throat, not impervious to the subject either. Then she changed the subject. "I got to go. Someone has to call this in. Stay safe out there, Dean."

"You too, Jody," Dean responded. "Tell Alex we said hi."

"Will do. Don't be a stranger. Drop by soon, okay?"

"It's a promise."

With that, Jody hung up and Dean returned the phone to his pocket. He sat on the Impala's hood for God knows how long watching the water move. The quietness was disconcerting and Dean felt watched somehow. He almost expected a head to pop up moments before he would be dragged down to the depths, never to be seen again.

Without warning, the cold closed in on him and he shivered, causing him to groan. Dean knew the Mark had done a number on him, but he was only starting to feel the physical consequences now. To his absolute dismay, he was feeling his age again.

He struggled back into the Impala, where Sam remained unmoving. If not for his deep and steady breathing Dean would have thought him dead. After tonight's nightmare, those soft sounds were music to his ears in the quiet of the night.

Dean positioned himself in such a way he had a clear view of Sam. He hadn't told him yet, but after his purification ritual, he had noticed his brother sporting a few gray hairs that hadn't been there before his demonic honeymoon with Crowley. Dean treated that info the same way they did everything related to aging and dying: he put it in a mental box, locked it, and threw away the key. See nothing, know nothing. Not when it came to this. Everything else was fair game.

Dean didn't usually get such an unobstructed view of Sam's sleeping face. He looked peaceful, face free of worry that marred it when he was awake. It made him look younger.

It reminded him of what he had thought was a random Sunday about twenty-five years ago. That day, Sam approached Dean and presented him with a gift. It was a card, 'Happy Mother's Day' it read in a certain eight-year-old's chicken scratches on the cover. Additionally, Sam had drawn two figures surrounded by flowers and a bright blue sky with big white clouds. The figures, Dean realized, represented them. Sam and Dean. Dean and Sam. Always together. When he opened the card, he was forced to use all his manly manpower not to tear up at the words Sam had written down.

Thank you for always taking care of me.

They had only been at their current school — somewhere near the North Dakota/Wyoming state line — for a week, so it was easy to assume no one knew what had happened to their mom. Sam must have drawn this in class while Dean barely remembered Mother's Day was a thing normal people celebrated. To think they had begged their dad to drop them off at Bobby's, Dean was suddenly glad Bobby had been off on a hunt of his own. Dad would have a fit if he saw this and Bobby would snitch on Sam for certain.

He offered Sam a shaky smile and reminded himself that crying was for babies, Sam included. "Thanks, Sammy." This card was much more precious than he could put into words. Even ignoring the fact Dean was acting like his brother's parent, Sam didn't have to do this.

Sam shrugged, unaware of the significance of such a gift. Dean was glad for it. He wanted to protect Sam from the heavy burden knowing for as long as he could. Sam might be a huge winy baby of a brother, he still had that childlike innocence Dean wanted to protect.

He never told Sam that he put that card in his box of prized possessions, or rather, the only possessions Dad had allowed them each to keep. Anything that didn't fit their respective boxes was left behind or burned. John claimed it kept them from being attached to "useless crap" as he called it. Dean understood why, even if Sam was too young to understand, because more personal stuff meant more evidence that could be traced back to them by the wrong person. If they had to run for their lives, they boys didn't exactly have time to pack all their stuff. Another reason was of course the limited room they had in the Impala. In short, more possessions meant more heartbreak.

The card got buried beneath old family pictures — from before — and useless trinkets Dean had collected that he couldn't make himself throw away just yet. He was glad Sam's gift fit with his other things in the box.

Thinking about it many years later, Dean realized very little in their relationship had changed since then. He still took care of Sam, because that was his job. Everything else came second, including hunting. He would give up everything, sacrifice the entire world, if it meant his little brother was safe. He imagined Sam scoffing at that thought, but then Dean would just have to remind him that he was a big brother long before he became a hunter. Hell, he had already sacrificed other people's lives to keep Sam alive and he had done so without an ounce of regret. It was too late to start feeling guilty now.

Dean averted his eyes from Sam. He scolded himself for thinking about the past. There was nothing he could do about any past wrongdoings and it didn't do anyone any favors to dwell on his past mistakes. If he did, he would never get anything done ever again, and Sam would have a field day listing all his faults. Definitely not worth the energy for either of them.

He groaned softly, then closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come. Despite his knife dance, accompanied by an adrenaline rush and the subsequent exhaustion, he was wide awake. The Sandman was avoiding him, wherever that crusty bastard was lurking.

No matter what, his brain was too awake to even consider sleep. Recent memories flashed in front of his eyes a million miles an hour and wouldn't it be nice if he got a break? He deserved one after the long day that he had had, except, lately, he hadn't been getting any breaks at all. It was all getting two steps past exhausting.

With nothing better to do until sleep deprivation killed him, Dean grabbed his phone and shot Cas an inconsequential text. Above the new one, he saw his previous text, the one about saints, hadn't been opened yet. Normally, he wouldn't worry, but nowadays he even had trouble telling what was up and down, let alone any danger any of them might face. And Cas was known to — quite literally — drop off the face of the earth sometimes. Between the three of them, they had visited all four cardinal dimensions — Earth, Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory— more than once. Dean just hoped that when his angelic best friend was in trouble, he would ask him for help. Dean would be more than happy to lend both helping hands if the need arose. Despite everything, he smiled to himself. Knowing Team Free Will, it wasn't a matter of if but when. That was the one consistent thing in his life he could count on.

Outside his window, thick white flakes muffled any sounds before they could reach him. Dean decided it was the good kind of quiet, even if there really were mermaids out there, wanting to lure him to his death. That Christmas card look was turning into a reality more and more. Dean liked it. It put him in the Christmas mood like nothing else.

Unaware of Dean's wandering thoughts, Sam made a noise in his sleep. Dean watched him for a minute to see if he was waking up. When he remained fast asleep, Dean made the most of this downtime and made himself a little more comfortable on his side of the car.

All things considered, things weren't so bad. Sam was alive, he had somehow made it out with all his limbs attached. They were all right and that was all that mattered. It was a good thing Dean was a realist and nice things weren't in the stars for him all that often. Life wasn't a fairytale, which was also good, because Dean didn't believe in fairytales anyway. Happily ever afters even less. But, he had survived today and he knew, even in the darkest, Mark of Cain-touched depths of his soul, that Sam would do everything in his power to ensure he would survive tomorrow. For now, it was enough for Dean to keep watching over his humongous little brother just a few minutes longer.

Some of you might remember, but I promised a trivia section. Well, as it turns out, that trivia section is a lot longer than I originally anticipated. Conclusion: y'all are getting a bonus chapter!

Technically, the fic is complete, so I'll leave it at that, but don't be too surprised if that changes soon.

I only need to add a few more bullet points, so it's almost finished and it should be up relatively soon after this chapter. Please look forward to it :)