A/N: This is the last of my deleted scences. It falls in right before Sam dies.

"Intervention"

Your face was pressed against cool glass and you were slummed down in an uncomfortable position.

"Wakey-wakey, kid." A voice that was familiar but out of place said from your left. A strong hand gently shook your shoulder.

It feels like you've been sleeping for years and coming awake is slow. Straitening up and looking at the man you know something isn't right. Exhaustion and confusion bog down your mind.

Your dad looked over at you and gave a quick smile, before he turned his eyes back onto the road. The sun was shining bright in a big mid western sky, green and gold plains lay on either side of the two lane road, the Impala steady under his guidance.

"What's going on?" Your voice is whiskey-rough. The last thing you remembered was staring up at a night sky as cold rain fell down while you lay on the cold asphalt slowly but surely bleeding out. That had been somewhere in New England.

"You can call this an intervention." Dean said with a smirk.

"What?" Confused, you stare at him, and realize he was different from what you remember. There weren't any gray hairs dulling the luster of his hair and his intelligent green eyes had a mischievous spark in them. Younger, healthier, in his prime with a smirk playing at his lips like he knew something you didn't. Which given the situation was probably the case.

Dean's face sobered. "Look, I'm going to cut right to it, alright? This running yourself ragged stuff has got to stop. It's what got you shot tonight."

You glance down at yourself. "I was shot?" You mumble like you didn't already know.

"Yea." Green eyes fall on you again for a brief moment. "It wouldn't have happen if you'd been taking better care of yourself either. You know, sleeping more, taking time between hunts to heal up."

You frown; the fog slowly, very slowly lifting from your mind. "Am I dead?"

The smirk gone, you watch his eyebrows come down. "No. Not yet at least."

"Then where am I?"

"You can't tell?" He indicates the Impala.

You glare at the smart-ass answer.

"Don't worry about it, ok?" He says. "I pulled a few favors for this and we don't have too much time. You'll be fine, that shot is going to hurt like a bitch, but you'll be fine. Now, this is going to be a little awkward, but you need to hear it so listen up." Another glance in your direction. "I don't really know what's going on in that head of yours, but I've got an idea. This whole thing about you having to kill Sam, it's not your fight."

Your jaw clenches at the mention of his brother.

He caught the look on your face. "You don't know Sam the way I do. You don't know the life we had. He thought he was doing the right thing; he fought hard to fight this. I'm the one who let him down. I should have stopped him before all this got out of hand." The last part said is said with a grim tone.

"Sam still has to be stopped." You remind him.

Dean nodes. "Yea, he does, but if you're going to be the one who does it then you need to go in knowing this wasn't something that he meant to become. He was trying to help the world not make it worse. I was the one who should have seen it coming, should have stuck around to stop him. I share in the blame."

"Is that why you were never there?" You instantly regret asking that question. You weren't thirteen anymore, you were a grown man. You don't look at him.

"Yea. I'm sorry John." There's honesty in the gruff words.

You don't say anything back; just keep staring out the passenger window.

"Look son, I'd rather you leave this to someone else, but I think you're too much of a Winchester too, so I'm going to tell it to you like this. Sam won't go down easy. That being said back to why you're here." Your dad glances your way. "I know it's not easy. I really do, but you've got to watch your back. You need to let yourself heal up from one hunt before starting another one. Your luck's going to run out, it almost did tonight."

He looks your way, like he's waiting for you to reply but you don't have anything to say.

"Look John. I wished…I wish I had been around more for you and your mom while I was alive, but I'm not in a hurry for you to join me up here. We'll have all eternity to catch up, but you need to have a long life first. Try to find something that makes you happy, because hunting isn't it. You're like Sam that way."

You shoot a glare his way. You weren't anything like Sam.

"I know I know. He's the devil and all that." He rolls his eyes at you. "But hunting uses you up. There aren't any happy endings for us."

"You liked it." You say quietly.

He nodded. "I did, but you know what I liked better? Your mom and being your dad." He didn't look at you. "We're out of time." He slowed the car down to a stop.

He took the necklace off that you'd never seen him without and held it out to you. "Your Uncle Sam gave it to me when we were kids. I want you to have it."

You accepted it from him feeling unworthy. "Thanks."

"Take better care of yourself and call your mother

"Son?"

You look up at him after putting the necklace on.

"You were the best thing I ever did, and I'm proud of you. No matter what you decide to do I'll always be proud of you."

Those words affect you more than you ever thought they could. You wanted to say something back – anything, but the next thing you know you're looking up at a dark, raining New England sky with and a paramedic looking down at you, saying it was going to be okay. Days later when you're being discharged from the hospital they give you a bag with your wallet, keys and a necklace with an Egyptian protection amulet on it.