I know, it's been ages. The long-awaited final chapter! (At least, I think it's the final chapter. I can always add more to the story at a later date. But I'm not promising anything)

Enjoy it! Thank you, to all my loyal fans! (And by that I mean my friend Mez.)

Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural :-(


Sam sat into the passenger seat, his face completely white besides the purple-grey circles under his eyes.

"So?" Dean asked.

"Scott's going to be fine. They had to give him a transfusion because he'd lost so much blood. And he needed stitches in his chest. And he has a minor concussion from when he fell on the floor."

"But that's all?"

"That's all."

"Awesome." Dean backed out of the hospital car park, and switched on the cassette player. It was now the early hours of the morning, and still pitch black out. Dean wanted nothing more to return to the hotel and sleep for the next three years, despite the fact he'd been asleep in the Impala for the last ninety minutes.

"Oh, Scott did give me something," Sam said lightly as they drove along. "Well, gave us something"

"If it's a hug it's then all yours, Sammy."

"No, this." Sam pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. Dean's mouth fell open as he caught a glimpse of the paper in the glow of a streetlight.

"A cheque… for five grand?"

"As a thank you. And also something to ensure we don't go blabbing about this 'incident'. Because then his mother would put him in therapy."

"See, that's what I call grateful," Dean said, beaming.

"Well, more terrified than grateful, I suspect."

"Same diff. So what was his excuse for the doctors?"

"Accident involving a set of garden shears," Sam said, looking over at Dean. Dean laughed.

"That's not very plausible."

"Well, he had full health cover, so the doctors weren't complaining. So, back to Scott's?"

"Oh, God no, he can clean that mess up himself."

"You left a steak in the living room. And I dug up the garden."

"We've already done enough, Sam. We're Good Samaritans. Haha, Samaritans!" Sam scoffed.

"You need sleep, Dean. Maybe you'd rather I drive?"

"No, I'm good. We're almost at the hotel. Hey, where did you find that heart, anyway?"

"Buried under a rosebush in a potato sack."

"What? Seriously, a rosebush? Why couldn't she be like a normal person and keep it in the freezer, or in concrete in the basement?"

"Normal people store human hearts in the freezer?"

"You know what I mean."

"Well, it makes sense, her roses were her passion after her husband died. It was a guess, it payed off."

"Oh, stop being somodestSam!" Dean said, ruffling Sam's hair. "It's not macho. Oh, I love this solo!" Dean turned up the speakers and air-guitared to TNT. Sam's hand lunged out of its own free will and clutched the steering wheel.

"So, we're going to stay here a couple days longer?" Sam asked hopefully, still in control of the steering wheel. Dean didn't seem to notice him, as he was moving enthusiastically to the music. "Dean?"

"Oy! Oy! Oy! What? Oh, yes. Remember, I haven't had my holiday yet."

"No, you've been working. You have to promise me you'll actually relaxnow."

"I will," Dean said, Sam looking over at him. "No! Really, I will." Sam smiled.

"Good."


"Mojito," Dean said slowly before finishing the last mouthful of the drink. He set down the glass and tried to suck the remnants of rum off the lime garnish.

"Mmmm?" Sam murmured as he leaned back on the deck chair, squinting at the sun. The brothers sat in silence, admiring the hotel pool, or, rather, a group of women enjoying the hotel pool.

Sam had cashed the cheque the previous day, and had given half to Dean. Sam's money was safe in his bank account, slowly gathering interest, while Dean's money was, Sam suspected, being slurped away by Dean in the form of Mojitos, Mai-Tai's and many other drinks Dean would never be caught dead ordering in one of his usual bars.

"Hey," Dean said finally, recognition in his voice. "It's that redhead." Sam looked up to see the redhead Dean had pointed at in a stunning yellow costume, looking at Dean with interest.

"Think she remembers you?"

"How could she not? I'm going over to apologise for my abhorrent behaviour." Dean stood up, and Sam smirked to himself when he noticed the imprint of the deckchair left in the form of big red stripes on Dean's back.

"Dude," Sam said. Dean turned.

"What?"

"Time for more SPF?"

"No, that stuff smells horrible and makes my skin all greasy. And Sam, for future reference, it doesn't sound cooler when you call it SPF." Dean put on a pair of sunglasses and strode over to the pool. Interestingly, in this environment he didn't feel the slightest embarrassment wearing shorts. Even his blindingly white legs had began to dim with exposure to the sun. Dean's face had begun to sport freckles, which he claimed only increased his 'boyish charm'.

"Well you do burn easily," Sam said under his breath. Sam waited until Dean was occupied by the group of women who were, Sam noted, fawning pathetically over him and his bruised arm. He reached under the deckchair and pulled out his book.

This was, Sam thought as he took a slurp of his Sex On The Beach (ordered by Dean despite Sam's request of a Vodka Sunrise, just so he could say the name to the waitress), the life. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud giggle coming from the group of women Dean was with. No doubt Dean had just said something hilarious. Sam looked up to see Dean calling him over.

"Come on Sam!" Dean shouted from the pool, bobbing slightly in the water. "This is my holiday and you're missing it! And for Gods sake, stop reading." Sam smiled and closed his book.

The End.


There it is, people! The final chapter! Please review, it makes me feel OH so happy! If there are any plotholes you've noticed, just tell em and I'll fix 'em.

Thank you for reading. :-)