Note: Okay, so this is my last chapter, and yes I know this story turned out to be a little on the cheesy side. Man, I probably should have posted this story before Christmas or something. Anyways, this chapter is short and like I said, kind of cheesy.

"This kind of war, you've gotta believe in what you're fighting for." John Wayne, Back to Bataan

Dean hadn't really had the energy to fight Sam. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, because he found himself in the passenger seat of the Impala on his way to god knows where.

Even though he didn't know where Sam was heading, he was pretty sure he knew why Sam was driving.

He sighed and leaned his head on the window. He didn't know what Sam was planning but he knew he couldn't hunt. How could he hunt when he didn't trust himself. How could he protect Sam if he didn't trust himself?

He actually drifted off while Sam drove, but he jerked awake almost every time. The nightmares were driving him crazy.

It wasn't until Sam had parked the car outside of a house that Dean realized where they were and he rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples.

"Sam, what are we doing here?" He asked, already knowing the answer, but still not believing Sam had thought of this.

"Look, I know it's corny and something out of a Christmas movie." Sam rubbed a hand across his face and let out a little laugh. "But I couldn't think of any other way to get you to realize that you do good all the time. That you save lives all the time."

"Alright, Clarence." Dean said rolling his eyes. He looked out the window and watched the family in the front yard of the house. The happy family. He looked back at Sam, serous again.

"You think this, what? Cancels out the fact that another kid is dead?" Sam shook his head.

"What I think is that that kids death is for nothing if you stop believing in yourself because of it." Dean chewed his lip and looked out the window again.

"I can't just forget..." He trailed off, chewing his lip again.

"Don't expect you to. Just didn't want you to stop believing that you do good things here too. I mean, think of all the people, not just them," Sam gestured out the window, "that would be dead if you didn't do this. Hell, I'd be dead now, so would dad if it wasn't for you." Dean sighed and leaned his head back on the seat. After a minute, he turned to Sam and a ghost of his old smile came to his face.

"What do you want me to do, Sam? Run down the street with my hands in the air screaming 'I want to live again!'?" Sam snorted, and shook his head.

Dean's smile faded as he looked away again. He understood what Sam was doing, but he couldn't just forget that kid's screams in an instant. At the same time, he felt a little lighter.

It was actually more because Sam believed in him enough to bring him here than anything. Sam was and always had been the most important thing, and he was grateful that Sam believed in him that much. Even if it was cheesy as hell.

"You okay?" Sam asked. Dean looked over at him.

"I'll be okay, Sammy." He answered as honestly as he could for once. Sam nodded. It wasn't until Sam had started the car and they had been back on the road for a while that Dean spoke again.

"Thanks, Sam." He mumbled, already half asleep.

"For what?" A small smile crossed over Dean's face.

"For being the cheesy, girly bastard that I always knew you were."