A/N: So I thought I'd throw in my idea for a possible (happy) resolution to the very evil cliffie that was the season 3 finale. (Although, seriously, who wasn't expecting a cliffie?) General spoilers for season three, specifcally 3.16. Most probably an AU as soon as season 4 starts.

Short, sweet, to the point. I have ideas for a follow-up, so if anyone's interested in me working on that, let me know.

And I don't own. So feel free to leave me a review if you are so inclined - that's my only payment. (And frankly, it's all I really need.) Enjoy!

Thirty-five hours and fourteen minutes after he died, Sam's eyes shot open and he gasped.

A moment later, exactly one hundred eight hours and thirty-six minutes after he died, Dean screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.


"Holy shit!" Bobby exclaimed as Sam surged up to a sitting position, the younger Winchester hissing in pain and clenching his side. "It worked?"

"Dean!" Sam called, ignoring Bobby's words and Dean's tortured screams to move to his brother's side. "Dean!"

Dean continued screaming, his body arching, twisting, and threatening to tear out all of the stitches Bobby had put in fifty hours earlier. His voice was already cracking from the force of the screams and the lack of use since the hellhounds had attacked.

"Dean, I'm right here!" Sam called, putting his hands on his brother's face, his thumbs wiping away the saline trailing down Dean's stubbled cheeks. He struggled to make eye contact with his brother as the bright green orbs were darting around the room, looking at but not seeing the surroundings.

"Sam, what the hell happened?" Bobby demanded gruffly, moving to crouch by the brothers as Sam grunted, trying to reposition Dean's body.

Sam winced as Dean's voice cracked mid-scream, fading down to a hoarse yell. After a moment he managed to get Dean's back up against his chest, his arms wrapped firmly around his older brother. Finally his eyes flicked up to connect with Bobby's. The older hunter suppressed a shudder at the dark and haunted look in the green-brown depths.

"Hell, Bobby," the youngest Winchester replied softly, closing his eyes and tightening grip on Dean. "Hell. That's what the hell happened."

Bobby swallowed, his gaze narrowing when he suddenly spotted a dark reddish stain on the back of Sam's shirt. He moved behind the pair and cautiously lifted the hem of the polo, eyes widening in horror when he saw the reopened scar along Sam's spine as well as several other new gashes on his back. "Oh, God," he breathed.

"Leave it, Bobby," Sam murmured, tipping his head forward wearily onto the top of Dean's head, tears leaking out of his own eyes as Dean tried to continue screaming his baby brother's name. "It'll be okay."

Bobby frowned but reluctantly let the shirt drop back down, rocking back so he was on his knees. He watched, a lump in his throat, as Sam unconsciously started to rock back and forth, murmuring softly in Dean's ear. After a moment Bobby was able to make out what he was saying.

"It's okay, bro. I'm here. It's me. It's Sam. I'm right here. It's okay, bro."

Bobby watched helplessly, having no clue what to do as Dean gradually screamed his voice out of commission, leaving the once-proud hunter whimpering in his brother's arms.


Sam swallowed audibly. "Dean, please. I'm right here. You're okay now."

Sam's soft pleading voice finally seemed to break through as Dean sucked in a breath, the whimpers fading away. His head lolled back as Sam lifted his own. Sam smiled faintly when he saw the small glimmer of hope breaking through the dazed despair in his brother's eyes.


"Yeah, Dean," Sam replied thickly, smiling for the first time in one hundred nine hours and ten minutes. "Yeah, Dean, it's me."

Dean's hands moved up to tightly clench Sam's forearms, his eyes searching his brother's face. "A-are you-?"

Bobby's eyebrows knit in confusion, but Sam shook his head knowingly. "No, Dean. Neither are you," he declared firmly. "We made it. We're both out."

As Sam's words pierced through his frantic haze, Dean's body relaxed, the faint glimmer of hope growing brighter in his eyes. Suddenly he sat up, twisted, and grabbed his brother in a crushing hug. "Sammy," he breathed, one hand firmly wrapped around his brother's back, the other fisted in Sam's shaggy hair.

Sam closed his eyes and let his head drop wearily onto Dean's shoulder as Bobby relaxed, ignoring the tears trickling down his grizzled face.

"It's gonna be okay, Dean." Sam's words were muffled by his brother's shoulder, but they were still loud and clear. "It's okay."

And for the first time in one hundred nine hours and thirteen minutes, it was.

A/N: There you go. Hope that helped cheer a few mourners up. :) I do so appreciate feedback - let me know your thoughts! Thanks for reading!