Hey, so this is the final part of the last chapter. I had to split it into 3 parts as it was so long. I hope you all like the ending of the story.

A/N- somebody reviewed saying that the show would not be the same without sam and dean. I totally agree! This is an AU story though so it will not follown the pattern of the series. However it will have Sam and Dean. I

just have not gotten to that part yet. lol.

Disclaimer- i own nothing

His mothers words lingered in his ears. They sounded strangely hollow to him. How many times had she spoken the same words to Sam? He wondered. His muscles felt as

though they were on fire. He was strangely warm. He felt something soft and, glancing down, noted the blanket. He blinked again, adjusting his eyes. He could see his dad. His

normal emotionless expression was contorted in pain. Dean could see tears in his eyes. Dean was too tired to be afraid anymore. He knew his dad. Only three things could make his

father cry and, if he guessed right, two were already dead. John was talking. Dean, still slightly disoriented,

wondered who he was talking too. Was it some kind of sick way to make himself feel better?Dean amused himself for a second, picturing JOhn Winchester alone in a room

talking to himself. It took him a second torealise his father was not looking at him when he was speaking. He followed his gaze. His eyes met Missouris eldery form. He recognised

her instantly. He added her arrival to his growing hate of his father. Only hisfather would think it was okay to use a pyhsic on him when he was ill. That man is obnoxious, he is

impatient, he is a bastard-

"He is you" finished another little voice inside his head. He shook it off angrily. He was too angry to see the truth in the statement. He knew he was a lot like his dad. He had

inherited a lot of his fathers bad traits. He did not want to admit that at the minute. He had a major headache coming on.

"I was in the chapel okay?" John burst out, "I was in a chapel praying for my sons life. I believe my exact prayer was- anything but this. Anything but Dean. Do you see now? I

prayed for this. I got my wish."

Dean was incredulous. He prayed for him to get better? That was a load of crap. He had told the doctor to pull the plug on him. Why was he lying? Was he trying to get some

sympathy for himself? Oh look at me- I've got one dead son and the other is in a coma basically. Give me sympathy! His dad had never been one to demand sympathy for

others. He was the strong silent type who preferred to deal with things alone.

HOwever, he was a ghost a couple of days ago. Things change. Dean surmised.

"What am I going to do?" Johns tone was hopeless. Dean felt anger surge through him again.

"I will tell you what you can do" Deans voice was hoarse with disuse.

Both adults looked down at Dean. He struggled to his feet. The blanket fell off him and onto his floor. John shifted his balance to ease the pressure on his bad leg. Missouri stood her ground, slightly closer to Dean.

She looked Dean straight in the eyes. Eyes, a few minutes ago had been dull and lifeless, were sharp and dangerous. Dean watched John. Missouri could senss the barely veiled

anger. It was like a pressure cooker of emotions waiting to boil over the surface. Heaven help anyone who was in the way when a Winchester was angry.

"Son!" John was overjoyed. Dean was awake. He was safe. He was well. John could protect him. He did not see the anger. He did not feel the tension. Missouri did.

"John." she warned.

"Stay out of this Missouri. This is between me and dad." His voice was sarcastic over the last dad.

"Do you know what you can do?" Dean moved a step backwards. His gaze flickered briefly to the mirror. He was shocked to see the guy that looked back. This guy was thinner,

paler and rougher around the edges.

"You can tell the truth. You could not have been in the church, dad, praying for me. You have already given the doc's permission to turn off my life support. I was dying and you

were helping me get there quicker."

John breathed deeply. It sounded like a rough growl. It was the only sound in the room. Missouri and Dean both watched John. This was a question he could not avoid.

He closed his eyes for a second. "I know you saw that but-"

Deans eyes flickered to Missouri. She felt uncomfortable under his gaze. She nodded to his unanswered question. He gave her a final glance, something that looked like

disappointment, before switching his gaze back to his father. She was forgotten again.

"But what dad? Huh? Talk your way out of that one." Deans tone was aggressive. He talked like that, generally, to things he was about to kill.

"I thought I was doing what was best for you Dean. I knew that you were in pain. I did not want you to suffer anymore. You cannot judge me. I made the bad choice in a bad

situation."

Deans eyes sparkled with amusement.Gotcha, he thought triumphantly.

"You thought that, by letting me die you were doing what was best for me?" he echoed. John nodded, "Your little idea cost us a lot. I lost a lotta time with Sammy. Time I could

have used figuring out a way to stop him. I...would...have...stopped him. Thanks to you I lost that chance."

John took an unsteady step closer to Dean. He nearly fell without the help of his crutch. Dean made no move to help him. Missouri reached out and handed him the crutch. He took

it gratefully.

"I know that you are upset son but I had no way of knowing that things would play out the way that they did. I am sorry dad is not perfect-"

"Preaching to the choir." John ignored the comment. He continued, "I just acted in what I thought were your best interests."

"Like ya did when you sent your son out for the stuff that he would use, basically, to kill himself."

Johns heart pounded. He needed to choose his words really carefully. If he made a mistake he stood to lose his last remaining son. He used his best controlling voice. It was calm

and authorative.

"I did not give Sam anything like that-"

Dean broke in angrily. His hands were balled into fists. He could feel the fury pounding in his veins. "YES, you did. You sent him out to Bobbys. It was the only time he was out of

my sight."

"Sammys a smart boy. He could have made a stop."

Dean raised a hand. He gestured at John with every word. "I thought that at first, but then it sort of came to me. Why were you so impatient to get the stuuf from Bobbys. You

practically took his head off when Sam told you that he did not get it."

John nodded. He accepted the fact that both his sons had been in the hospital room at the same time. It was a surreal feeling. His mouth opened. Excuses were on his lips.

Dean glared at him, "I saw what you were like before he came. You were practically bouncing off the walls."

John did not know what to say. He could see Dean watching him, waiting for an answer. Dean knew that he was right. And with every second of silence, John knew he was looking

more guilty.

"My son was in a coma. My other son had barely survived a car crash. I was possesed by a demon then shot in the leg. I was not really in the best mood."

Dean sat on the bed. It creaked slightly as it took his weight. John watched him for his reaction. His heart was pounding. He tried to not let it show. Dean looked to the floor. He

noted the floral pattern on the carpet with some distaste.

"You are lying. I know you are lying,"John opened his mouth to protest, "YOU KNOW YOU ARE LYING."

Dean shook his head. He chuckled mirthlessly. "What kind of man does that to his own kid? You lay something like that on Sammy, what gives you the right? If you had done

something like that, Sammy would have known it was because of him. He would have had to have lived with that just like I would have had to have live with the fact you were dead

because of me. The fact that you were in hell and I was up walking around. What kind of selfish bastard are you to believe that I would be okay, with you gone?

Deans voice broke. His shoulders shook. Missouri could feel the subtle shift in Deans mood from anger to sadness. John took a few steps forward. He laid a hand on Deans back.

Dean sprang away at the touch.

"Don't"

"Dean please." John pleaded, "I know you are hurting. Sammy means a lot to you. He means a lot to me too. Him dying like that is a lot for us to handle. We need to stick together

son if we are going to get through this. We are all thats left of our family."

"Sammy's my family." Dean did not look at anyone. He continued to look at the carpet.

"Sammy's dead son." JOhns voice was gentle. He could hear the stubborness in Deans voice.

"Not for long." Dean looked up. He glanced at the curtains and then at John. " Tomorrow morning,I am going to fix your mistake. If I have to pull this entire world apart, I swear I

will do it."

3 WEEKS LATER

It was raining. Dean was soaked to the skin. His t-shirt and hair was stuck to his skin. He was shivering. He was freezing. He made no move to get out of the rain. He

stood on the outskirts of a wood. He made no move to seek shelter in the trees. He did not want to lose sight of the road. The road was quiet. He could hear the far off

rumble of cars on the freeway. It was mid afternoon. Dean guessed he had been waiting there for at least two hours.

"Come on," he muttered. He took out the sodden page from his jeans pocket. It was a page of handwritten directions. He re-checked that he was in the right position.

"Where are you?"

There was a rustle behind him. It was faint. Dean whipped around. His face broke into a delighted grin. He clapped his hands together. Another man stood in front of

him. He had obviously been in the trees. His clothes were dry. He was taller than him. An identical grin shone on this mans face. They pulled each other into a hug.

"Good to see you little brother." Sam smiled at his brothers muffled words, "Who knew a shapeshifter could do so much damage?"

"Hate those things." Sam smiled again. With one hand, he withdrew a knife that had been hidden up his sleeve. It glinted in the rain.

"You are a sight for sore eyes. I was looking for you little brother." Sam prepared to stab Dean. He raised the knife over his brothers back.

"I know." Sam plunged the knife into Deans back. Dean gasped in surprise. He reached out of the hug. He could not speak. The wound was fatal. Dean could feel each

breath getting harder. He fell to the ground. Sam knelt beside him. "Sammy?" Dean rasped. Sams eyes turned yellow. He grinned. He twirled the bloody knife between

his fingers. "I only promised to save you. I did not promise that I would not kill you again

afterwards. You were surprisingly naive though, i am surprised." Dean was powerless. Each breath was raspy. HIs vision was blackening. Sam raised the knife. Dean

punched weakly.

"Bastard." he taunted weakly. Sam smiled, "But you are still dead." He plunged the knife down. Dean was dead instantly.

Three hundred miles away, across the country a woman named Ava Wilson woke up with start. She was covered in sweat. She clasped her hand to her forehead. Her head was

killing her. She flopped back onto the pillows, wide awake.

"Are you okay?" Her fiance was awake. He looked concerned. It was three in the morning. Therefore it was too early to go into her "Freaky dreams".

"It's nothing. It was just a dream."

She fluffed the pillows. She tried to get comfortable. "Just a dream."

the end..

by the way- the dream at the end is a vision.

hope you all like it. Can dean be saved? dun dun dun