Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them.

A/N: Thanks to Kelli for beta reading and for giving me support in all areas of my life. I don't know where I'd be without her!

Well here ya go. This is the final chapter. I hope I didn't disappoint you!

Role Reversal

Chapter 10

"John did an acceptable job of training Sam, even though he was training him for the wrong purpose. I can't blame him, he didn't know." the demon paced in front of Dean. "I almost took Sam a few times over the years but there were a lot of things to put in place and he was safe enough with you and John when he was growing up."

The demon squatted in front of Dean. "You know, I never really understood what pulled John away from that job in Jericho. I still don't know what he ran across that made him run but it doesn't really matter. And then you had to go to Stanford to get Sam. You were so afraid to be alone. Pathetic. You hadn't seen him for two years; I didn't expect you to go to him but you did."

He stood. "And he left pretty little Jessica to go with you. When I saw that, heh, I was surprised.

But he did the right thing and came home."

"So why kill Jessica?" Dean struggled to ask.

"I told you before. She and Mommy got in the way."

"No. There's more to it than that."

The demon shrugged. "Maybe."

Dean watched as the demon walked back over to Sam.

"It's about time for us to go. The question is, what to do with you?"

Dean groaned involuntarily as the demon pushed invisible claws into his chest.

"Why aren't you calling for Daddy like you did last time?" the demon asked. "Is it because you're mad at him for leaving you again? Or are you afraid that he won't try to help you this time?"

The demon laughed then turned his attention back to Sam.

Dean knew what he had to do, but he didn't know how to do it. The pain was nearly unbearable and he was bleeding profusely but his only chance was while the demon was preoccupied with Sam. He tapped into something he didn't understand and managed to crawl to a nearby cabinet. He heard Sam moan but he couldn't let himself be distracted; it hurt to move and he had to get this done before he bled to death or Sam would be lost forever.

With a strength he could never have guessed he had, Dean opened the cabinet. It was there, just as Missouri had whispered to him. The Colt. The gun they'd taken from the vampires. The gun with the bullets that could kill any demon. Bullet, Dean reminded himself. There was only one bullet left; he would only have one chance. The gun felt so heavy in his hand. He felt so sick, so weak.

Sam, he thought to himself. It was all for Sam. Everything else was expendable; but not his brother.

Somehow Dean made it to his knees, but that was as far as he would get. The demon was standing over Sam; whispering; chanting. Sam was writhing, muttering incoherently. Dean knew he didn't have much time.

He held the gun up, aiming carefully.

"Hey." he called.

The demon found himself unable to resist Dean's voice; he turned slowly to see the Colt revolver aimed at his chest. He smiled.

"You can't kill your father."

"You're not my father."

"Heh. No, but he's in here. Just like before."

"I wasn't holding the gun before."

"You begged Sam not to shoot."

"Yeah and look what that got me." Dean hesitated only a moment before pulling the trigger.

The demon's eyes changed and all Dean could see was his father. He crawled over toward him, sitting on the floor and cradling John's head in his lap.

"Dean," John whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Dad," Dean could feel the tears well in his eyes.

"You did the right thing. You saved Sammy."

"But you –"

John reached for his son's hand. "It's all right. I'll be with your mother."

Sam's eyes opened when he heard the gun fire and he saw his father fall to the floor. He heard the conversation between Dean and John as he slowly made his way across the room.

"Dad?" he sat down and put a hand on John's arm.

"Sammy."

The brothers exchanged a look.

"Boys," John struggled to speak. "I made a lot of mistakes –"

"Dad, don't." Dean begged.

John's body trembled.

"Dad," Sam squeezed John's arm. "I'm sorry –"

"Nothing to be sorry for, Son. I'm proud of you. I'm proud of both of you. You've become fine men."

John's body trembled but he smiled. He looked past his sons and whispered, "Mary."

His eyes closed and his head fell to the side. The brothers looked away from him and saw their mother, barely visible, across the room. She smiled at them and reached out her hand to John. He joined her, taking her hand.

"You're free now, boys. You're free to live the lives I should have given you. Take care of yourselves because I'll be watching. And you know what to do about this, right?"

"Yes, Sir." they said in unison.

A moment later they were alone.

So it was over. The battle they trained for over the last twenty-two years had been fought and they were victorious. But with their father dead between them it didn't feel much like a victory. They looked at each other and stood slowly.

"Dean." Sam said as they watched the flames.

"Yeah?" Dean answered quietly.

"How'd you know?"

Dean looked thoughtful. "You're my brother. And I'd die for you. But there are some things I have to keep to myself."

Sam looked at him, recognizing his own words.

"At least for now." Dean added quietly.

Sam looked at his brother and smiled to himself.

Fin