A/N: I should call this Author's Sad Note. Why? Because this is sadly the last chapter of the Beast. It was one of my first and now it's over! I have moved on and I have to finish other fics, but this one was so very well recieved that I'm so sad to see it go:'( But, it had to happen and everyone wanted it so badly, that I had to give in!

So, other than this being yet another thank you to my wonderful beta, sokerfreek922, I want to thank you all that have this in your favorites and in your alerts!

Um, Everytime that I put THE BEAST FINAL CHAPTER, that's like a divider. Putting the made it easier to let it sink in :'(.

And finally, sorry for the wait.. and for the longer wait that might occur on the other fics. I hope this helps everyone through Thursday!

It took some time and prying, but both of the boys were checked over. Dean was first, and needless to say he didn't cooperate. If the doctor couldn't reach it, then Dean was in no position to help him out. John warned him to and so Dean did. Well, he stopped twisting away which was very helpful.

Sam was checked over next. Dr. Pickman's every move was under the watchful eye of the said Dean Winchester. Every whimper that came from having the doctor poking at a bruise would have Dean raised a few inches from his chair. But, since Sam made it through without crying or calling out his name, than no harm was really done in Dean's mind.

Sam was quickly returned to Dean as Dr. Pickman sat down to begin the damn questionnaire. Before he even cleared his throat, Dean rolled his eyes and flat out told whatever the hell came into his mind to get them the hell out of there faster. Of course, he didn't say this since John was right there besides them and he wasn't stupid enough to risk cursing in front of his father.

"Listen, they're just from fighting." Dean said quickly. Dr. Pickman looked up at him, eyebrows raised in question.

"Fighting who Dean?"

"Kids in school." Dean said with a shrug.

"These kids beat up on you?"

"No. Well, yeah. But I didn't start it."

"Oh, so how is it that they beat you up? Someone had to start it."

"Well, they did. On Sammy. That's his bruises. I beat them up for it."

"So, what about your bruises Dean?"

Dean was silent for a second. Ok, he might have just blown his story. And his father was certainly going to remind him of why a plan ahead of time was of value. But that was only if they all made it out of there together.

"Well, the kids weren't just going to stand there and take it." Yeah Dean, he thought to himself. Smooth.

"And how did you come across this fight?"

"Sammy and I go to the same school. I saw it." And it was true. Sam was eight and in the second grade. Dean was twelve and in the sixth grade. In their current town, kindergarten to eighth grade was all in the same building.

Dr. Pickman stared at Dean for a second. Then, he looked at the battered family and decided something. He had no real need to pry. He could tell, just by the way that the boys were around the man, that he caused them no harm. The boys were an ornery pair, especially Dean. He probably got into too many things and some things that he probably wasn't allowed to do. Sam's injuries were more curious. Mainly, they were not as bad as his brother's but they seemed worse than the boy's personality showed. He didn't seem like the type of kid that would start any kind of trouble.

Dr. Pickman nodded his head. He wrote down how the injuries were minimal and already healed. He checked off the released box on both files.

"Alright boys, you're free to go." Dean and Sammy shared a look of content and relief. "But, you mind your father. You boys shouldn't be out this late. It's a different world at night. Bad things come out. I know you feel pretty big Dean, but there are still a lot of things you don't understand at you're age. The two of you should learn to be more careful. The night is for sleep, not basketball games."

Dean and Sammy shared another look. This time, they were smiling. Goodness gracious, if this man only knew.

Sam is nestled in John's arms and Dean is walking besides them with his crutches. They are leaving the hospital and heading towards John's priced Chevy Impala. Sammy is asleep before he hits the back seat. Dean props himself into the front seat. John drives them back home. All is right in their lives again.

Dean wakes up with the sun in his eyes. He feels the warm presence of Sammy at his side and can't help but wonder if it was all a dream. It could be a dream. Dreams feel real sometimes.


As Dean tries to get up, the weight of the cast and the pain of his other bruises overwhelm him. It was most certainly not a dream.

He manages to wiggle away from Sammy and not cause him to stir. Luckily, the boy still doesn't possess the hunter skills that would tell him that there was movement about. Or maybe he just slept deeply when he was with him, Dean wasn't sure. He got out of bed and saw the crutches propped up beside the door, leaning on the dresser there, within Dean's reach.

Still sleepy, the twelve year old made his slow journey towards the hallway bathroom. Once in the hall, he heard the unmistakable noises of his father's breathing in his own room. Dean could tell that John wasn't asleep and was most likely preparing himself for the upcoming day.

Oh, Goodness! What were they going to be doing today? Well, he thought, Dad still has to get that thing that came after us. Which means he's gonna wanna talk about last night. Which means he's gonna get mad. Which most definitely means Dean's not going to like the next few days. Great!

He left the bathroom and headed to the kitchen. Figuring that John would be really pissed with him, he thought he'd try and make it a good morning and make them all breakfast. However, he did have just the one leg working full force, so it wasn't like he was going to be doing more than coffee and toast. But, it's supposed to be the thought that counts right?


Ten minutes later, Dean was satisfied with the minimal breakfast that he could make. He heard John's door open and his father walking towards him in the kitchen. Dean braced himself for whatever it was that John was going to lash out. Usually, John wouldn't bother with any kind of punishment giving before breakfast. But, it wasn't everyday that the boys would sneak out just to get themselves caught.

"Hey, Dean." John voice rang through the small kitchen. It was still full of sleep and worry. His eyes looked over Dean and he shook his head at the boy's condition. Since he hadn't really had the time to check them over the previous night, John was actually pretty amazed that Dean had the strength to walk around after only four or five hours of sleep.

"Hey, Dad." Dean's small voice responded. And John did a double take as his faithful soldier looked so, juvenile at the moment. The way the boy acted, it was sometimes hard to remember he was still just a child.

"How you feeling?" John asked as he stepped further into the kitchen. Looking behind Dean, he could see the breakfast that the boy had prepared.

"M'kay," Dean automatically responded. It had been a few years since he had really allowed himself to show pain in front of his father. Last night had been way too late and everything was falling apart and Dean knew what could have happened. Yesterday, Dean could show some pain, some fear.

"I'm surprised you're up and about this early." John said truthfully. For anything other than a hunt, it was near to impossible to get the boy up without some sort of threat. It was usually Sammy that woke early and was ready for the day.

"Yeah," Dean said. He was still expecting his father to start ratting on him. John seemed to notice this, his sons far and distanced behavior was typical of when he was surely in trouble. However, he really couldn't be that mad after all that worrying the previous night.

"Dean, take it easy. I'm not mad at you." Strange look. "Okay," John started again with a sigh. Dean didn't make things easy much. "I'm not that mad at you. I'm not too happy that you two left when you were told to stay home. But, I'm glad everything turned out okay."

John headed to the small table behind Dean that held the food and took a seat. He waited a few seconds as Dean turned around and joined him. Before he can start to talk, Dean starts rambling off.

"I know we shouldn't have gone out, Dad. I'm sorry. It's just..."Dean stops, he can't think of a way to explain to his father why they left. He looks up and meets John's questioning and concerned glance. But how's he supposed to explain that they left because Sammy had had a feeling. "It's not Sammy's fault." Dean says softly.

As always, John figures the older boy is just protecting his brother. Usually, Dean said that when it was Sammy's fault. However, he couldn't see how any of this had been the young child's fault. His initial thoughts were that Dean was the eldest and should be able to handle the demanding eight year old. However, the look and guilt radiating from the preteen gave John the feeling that maybe it wasn't Dean's fault.

And that would be a first for him, since the boy always seemed to cause trouble.

Again, just as John was about the talk, the unmistakable noises of the youngest Winchester rising for the day were heard.

"We'll talk more later, okay son?" John offered as Sammy appeared in the kitchen.

"Yes sir." Dean said with a small nod.


Sammy walked over to the table between his father and brother. He grabbed a piece of toast with his good hand and started nibbling on a corner. The two elder Winchesters watched as the young one started to eat and seemed all but ignorant of what was occurring. Half way through his toast he looked over to his father and leaned back into Dean.

"Daddy? Are we in trouble?" he asked innocently. Okay, he so knew that they were and he so knew that he probably should remain silent, but he was Sammy. Being the youngest didn't only mean annoying Dean, it meant being able to look adorable and innocent and ask stupid questions you already knew the answers to.

"Yeah, Sammy. You boys are in trouble. But, not right now, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy." Sammy said with a smile. He shoved the rest of the toast into his mouth and all three slowly began to eat.

Breakfast was spent mostly in silence. It had taken roughly ten minutes, but Dean did get Sammy to sit in his own seat instead of on his lap. John got up and made more toast along with some scrambled eggs and a few pieces of bacon.

After breakfast, Dean made to get the dishes, but was stopped by John who pointed out that he couldn't balance both the plates and his crutches. So instead, Sammy had to do the dishes. Or rather he placed them all in the sink, dumped some soap on them and left the faucet running. Then he joined his brother on the couch in the living room.

After turning off the faucet, John joined his boys in the living room. Dean turned off the TV as soon as his father appeared in the room and elbowed Sammy to not complain.

"So boys, here's what we're going to do." John started as he sat on the small coffee table in order to see both of his boys. Both his sons' eyes locked with his and he knew he had all their attention. "You're going to tell me what happened yesterday, what really attacked you and then I'm going to go out and kill it. Meanwhile, you two start packing up; we're fine here for the most part. We can leave in the morning." Surprisingly enough, he was met with two sets of nodding heads. "Okay then," John said and he stood up from the table and headed into the dining room once again. Knowingly, both boys followed.


Half of the dining table was filled with Johns work while the other half was where they actually got to eats. John went and sat down on the opposite sat of where he had sat down to eat.

The boys sat down where they were sitting before, Dean directly in front of john and Sammy squirming to his right. John pulled out his 'child approved' papers and handed them off to Dean.

"So, boys, tell me what you saw."

John left some two hours later. With both of the boys' description he was certain that what had attacked them had been the same thing that he was hunting.

Within ten minutes of hearing the Impala purr away, Dean was pulling on his coat and tossing Sammy's to him.

"What are you doing Dean?" the eight-year-old asked. He looked at his coat skeptically as he watched his brother shrug into his.

"What's it look like we're doing?" Dean replied quickly. There was no venom in his voice, there never was when he talked with Sammy, but the boy still looked at him strangely.

"We're not supposed to go out, Dean. We're already in trouble."

"I know that Sammy…"

"Then what are you thinking! Dad didn't ground us just cause he went to get that thing. If he comes back and we're not here…"

"Then we better hurry." Dean said in his commanding voice. He then opened the door and hopped his way out the house, Sammy quickly at his heels.


It was a Thursday and everyone was either working or in school. There had been no reason for the brothers to go to school that day since they were just going to leave the next day.

The entire time, Sammy kept asking where they were going. Dean kept ignoring him and Sammy threatened to turn right back around and head home. He said he'd wait until Daddy got home and then he'd rat on him. But he kept on walking beside Dean nonetheless.

After three or four blocks, they turned a corner to the right and then Sammy began to panic some.

"Dean?" he asked as they neared the clearing they had been at the previous night.

"It's not here anymore, Sammy. 'Member, Dad went after it."

"But, what if Daddy's here too! Then, we're dead, Dean. We should go back right now before he sees us." And Sammy stopped walking, but Dean continued.

"Do you see the Chevy?" Dean asked rhetorically. And then Sammy was besides him once again.

"Dean, what are we doing here again? What if that lady sees us? What if she calls the cops?"

"I'll tell them that we came back for the basketball." And even that made sense to Sammy.

"But, we have none." Sammy pointed out.

"So, we'll just say that some kids must have seen it on their way to school and taken it. No biggie."

"But why are we here, Dean?"

Okay, so the kid wasn't going to make this easy on him. For the last twenty minutes, all he had done was talk none stop and well, they were almost there, so might as well tell him now.

"Do you realize how much trouble we're going to be in if someone sees that gun? We said that the guys ran off. But, we were spotted by the mailbox. If the mailman reports the gun…" And he left the ending of that message unsaid. Sammy was a smart kid and his light lit up in understanding.

"So, we've got to get the gun back, right." He stated again not really asking anymore. "Okay, then let's go." And he led the way to the mailbox.


It was riskier now in the daylight, but it had to be done. With his cast preventing him from properly kneeling down, it was also very uncomfortable and made the whole lock picking ordeal that much harder.

He was almost done when he felt an upcoming presence.

Dean whipped around and stood protectively in front of both Sammy and his handiwork. The mailman gave the boys a questioning look to them.

"Morning boys," he said friendly to them as he continued to walk towards the awaiting mailbox.

"Morning, sir." They both responded.

The mailman, whose nametag said was named Peter, looked them over and nodded towards both their casts.

"You boys' okay there?"

"Yes sir" Sammy responded quickly.

"We were in an accident." Dean said quickly before the man asked. People usually understood that kids didn't like to talk about things like accidents and deaths.

"Well, I hope everything's alright." He said stopping now right in front of them. Both boys looked up to the taller man but neither budged.

"You boys think I can get the mail for today?"

"What's the point, it'll be here tomorrow too." Sammy said in an uncharacteristic tone. Very Dean like.

"Well," he started kneeling down in front of them. "Since they pay me to, I would kind of; like to get my money's worth for the day." He said with a wink. Peter liked kids, they were always so marveled by the 'costume' and the whole through rain and sleet and snow and hail thing.

"So, what are you two doing here?"

"We got to stay home after the accident." Dean said. He was going full fledged kid mode on this guy. He needed to get that gun back. There was no way that this guy could see it. He'd involve the cops. And then, if his father found out that he lost a gun, he'd tear him a new one.

"Oh well then, that sounds to me like someone should be resting at home." He said giving them the patent grown up stern look. The one that meant 'you're doing something wrong and you've been caught.'

Except that they hadn't yet really been caught.

"I wanted to go outside." Sammy said.

"Well, doesn't seem like there was much you could do, with one arm and all." Peter said pointing to little boy's arm.

"Yeah, I guess." Sammy said looking down to his arm in disgust.

"But, the air's a whole lot better out here, anyway. Besides, my teacher's always saying how we should get out more and enjoy the outdoors. She says kids our age spend way too much time in front of TVs and videogames." Dean added.

"Well, that's true, but you shouldn't be out alone."

"Well, we're not really. Dad's out buying some food and we're going home cause there's nothing to do anyway."

Peter stood up and brushed off his shorts and knees. He proceeded to pick up his mail bag and started to take those final steps towards the mailbox.

"Sounds to me like you should be heading off then. I'd hate to be your father and not find you there when he gets back. He'll be worried sick."

"Yeah, you're right." And for the first time in his young life, Dean wasn't sure exactly how he was going to get out of this mess. "I guess we should be going then." He said unsurely.

Dean looked down at Sammy who met his gaze questioningly. Just leave? They couldn't just leave. Not with that gun there. Not with that man knowing how they looked now.

"Well, you boys have a good day now and take care."


They started to slowly walk away towards the direction they had come from. Dean nudging Sam to pick up his tools and then once they were half way down the block they turned back around.

Peter kneeled down, opening his bag, and unlocking the mailbox. The boys held their breath. The man pulled out the bag and letter. He set them both aside and pulled out the letters and postcards and placed them in his bag. Then, he locked the box again and picked up the bag. Once again the boys held their breaths as the mailman opened the bag.

Even from where they were standing, the brothers could hear the stream of questions and curses coming from the man.

Then he looked up and locked eyes with them.

Instinctively, Dean felt around his waist for a nonexistent weapon.

"You boys! Come back here!" But they remained where they were. Peter looked down at the bag in question and then began walking towards them.

Dean's instincts told him to run. However, he also knew that he had a casted leg and crutches and Sammy to worry about. So, instead, he started to think up a way out of this. Hopefully, with his gun.

He was not two feet in front of them and Dean hadn't thought of anything.

"You boys know something of this?" Silence. "What is a gun doing in the mailbox?" his tone was soft and not alarming and meant to be friendly. This was more frightening than anything else.

"What do you boys know about this?" the question came again, this time a little more forceful. "Listen, I understand that you might be scared, but if something is wrong, I can try and help you."

Dean felt Sammy's gaze on him and he risked turning his eyes to the boy for a second. Locking eyes with him would give him enough reassurance.

"We…it's…" But Dean couldn't get anything out. Peter just starred at them. He didn't need to be a genius to know that these two knew about the weapon in question. He did need to know what it was they knew though.

Suddenly, the man backed off some and took in their appearance. A knowing and understanding flash passed through his eyes. Dean felt frozen as he feared that even after last night's ordeal, this man would find fault and question their father. Somehow find a way to split them.

But none of that happened.

"Is this yours?" the man asked Dean. Dean was about to roll of some lie but Peter held up his hand. "Don't lie, son. I know it's yours. And, I think I know why you need it." And both boys stood frozen, defiantly not breathing.

Besides him, Sammy started to tremble. Dean fought he urge to wrap an arm around the boy and maintain his clench on the crutches.

"Yes sir," he found himself saying. It was soft, barely a whisper which Dean doubted anyone but his and his father's trained ears could hear. But, the mailman smiled at him nonetheless.

"I thought so kiddo." And he handed the plastic bag towards Dean. Dean looked at it for a moment before looking up to the man again. "Better get on home before your daddy sees your missing." He added with a wink.

"You're just going to hand this back to me?" Dean asked skeptically, still not taking hold of the enclosed weapon.

"Yes, I am. Long as you promise to be more careful next time."

"I…I promise." Dean said and his right hand left the crutch handle as he slowly reached for the bag.

"Good," the mailman said as Dean's fingers entwined with the concealed weapon. "You look like a man that's true to his word. Run along and take care of yourself… And be more careful next time…"

"Yes sir." Dean said. He turned to Sammy and smiled. "Come on kiddo; let's go home before Dad notices."


As they walked away, Dean could almost swear he heard in a soft, catlike whisper that he was certain only he and his father would be able to hear 'Who knows maybe next time you won't get away so luck.'

As he turned around he noticed that not only was the mailman gone, but there was a mail truck slowing down besides the mailbox.

It has finally ended. I'm like totally devestated! Drop a line (nine more reviews and this gets to be 100:) ) and then, well you read the last line ;-D