Wow. It's been forever since I've even looked at this. As you may have guessed, I lost my drive to write this, but I've decided that I'm going to write the ending for everyone who might still be waiting for it…after 1 ½ years… XD
There was only a second of blissful silence, a second of peace until Sam's feet began to pound against the floor, brining him closer to his injured brother at an alarming speed.
"Dean!" he called out, both fearful and overjoyed at the site of his brother awake and kicking.
Dropping down to the floor next to him, Sam frantically looking over Dean's body again, wanting desperately to help him but not wanting to cause further damage.
"Dean, are you okay? What hurts? How many fingers am I holding up? Can you move?" Sam demanded, frantic, holding up two shaky fingers.
Letting out a deep breath, Dean seemed to be actually thinking about Sam's questions before opening his chapped lips to answer.
"Yes I'm okay, everything hurts, you're holding up two fingers and…of course I can move." He reported, now attempting to see if he really could move.
Finally letting his grip on the crossbow loosen, Dean let it drop to the ground with a soft clang, before slowly moving his hands underneath himself. He slowly pushed his battered body up into a crouch, before slowly easing himself over, with Sam's insisted help, until he was sitting upright, back leaning against the wall.
After getting himself into a more comfortable position, Dean looked over at Sam's concerned eyes and gave him his best told-you-so smirk.
At that same moment John began to make his way over to his boys. That was, of course, after he had reclaimed his machete from Omar's neck and made sure that Catherin was really dead.
Crouching down beside his two sons, John ran his fingers through his messy hair, letting out a long and weary sigh before giving his eldest a good once over.
"How you holding up, Kiddo?"
Pulling his gaze from Sam, Dean glanced at his father's hardened eyes, and was both shocked and pleased to see worry in their depths.
"Other then the fact that I was a personal blood bank for a while, my face feels like it went 2 rounds with a cheese grater and my head is pounding like I just drank a whole freakin' bar, I'm doing just fine." Dean said, wanting to laugh and lighten his brother's and father's concerns, but he just didn't have the strength. Slowly but surly he could feel his eyelids drooping, wanting so desperately to shut tight and sleep forever.
Sam and John noticed this as well.
"Hey Dean, I'm gonna be right back. Once I get rid of the bodies," John said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, "the three of us are gonna get outta here. Can you stay awake here with Sammy until I come back?"
Groaning internally, Dean reluctantly nodded his head and let his head fall, gently, back to rest again the wall. He had just gotten comfortable when he felt a light pressure lean into his side. Glancing down, the angle at which he had to look making his head throb, Dean found Sam leaning into him, an arm gently wrapped around his waist.
Despite the circumstances, Dean felt content, and wrapped his arms around Sam as tight as his tires muscles would allow.
Feeling the familiar warmth that came with his brother's embrace, Sam couldn't hold back anymore. Turning farther into Dean's chest, Sam buried his face deeper into the dirty cotton of his brother's bloody shirt and started to cry.
"I'm so sorry Dean! It's all my fault. Just before you we're taken I was thinking that we should let someone get taken. As bait! And then you were gone! Just gone! I'm so so so sorry!" Sam sobbed, ashamed at his thoughts back at the motel.
"Hey, hey there, come on now Sammy. This isn't your fault. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I let my guard down back there. I should have seen it coming. Hey, look at me." Dean demanded, noticing that his brother wasn't listening to him. Sitting up straighter, gritting his teeth against the pain in his head and the weakness of his muscles, Dean pulled Sam's crying form from his chest, making Sam look him.
"I want you to listen to me very carefully. This is in no way your fault Sam. None of it. Do you understand? There was nothing you could have done that would have prevented this."
"I could have gone out with you to get the soda…"
"And what then, Sam? You would have been taken too! No, it's better that both you and dad stayed inside. If we were both taken, imagine how dad would have reacted. He would have gone insane. You were there to keep him level headed." Dean concluded, hoping his words would help convince Sam that no matter how the events had played out, in the end they had played out in their favor.
Rubbing his wet eyes and taking a few deep breaths, Sam sat up and leaned in to give Dean a soft hug.
"You're the best big brother ever, you know that? I…I really miss-"
"Hey." Dean interrupted, looking down to meet his brother's intense gaze, "No chick-flick moments, remember?"
Sam finally had to laugh at that, tilting his head back and letting out the sound that was like music the Dean's ears.
"Hey, mind letting me in on the joke?" John asked, walking back into the room and grinning at the site of his boys together on the ground, big smiles spread across their weary and injured faces.
Strolling over, not really expecting his either of them to answer his question, he reached down to wrap his arms around Dean's torso, providing as much support as possible, and slowly lifted his battered boy off the floor.
With Sam's help, and plenty of complaining from Dean about how he could walk on his own, they finally made it back to their waiting impala.
Settling Dean onto the black leather seat in the back, John swiftly made his way around the cars broad rear end to the driver's seat. Satisfied that Dean was comfortably seated, using Sam's small lap as a pillow, John pulled away from the house that held bad memories for his family, fully planning on never seeing it again.
"We're gonna head over to Uncle Bobby's." John informed his sons as he drove on to a main road. "He's only 3 hours west of here, and Dean's gonna need somewhere to stay for a few days to recuperate. I'm not too keen on staying at a motel after this."
"I'm with you on that one." Dean agreed, slightly adjusting his position so he lay flat on his back.
"I don't know. I still don't really have any problems with motels." Sam responded, a small grin plastered to his face.
Both John and Dean raised their eyebrows, glancing at him with confusion. Aside from Dean, Sam seemed to be really affected by this whole ordeal. They would have thought he wouldn't want to see another motel for a long time after losing Dean outside of one.
"What?" Sam asked, looking at John through the rearview mirror and then down at Dean's questioning gaze from his position on his lap, giving him an evil smirk.
"I've got no problem with motels." Sam declared.
"I'm just never letting you get a drink by yourself again."
And that's it. It's finally done! Thanks to those who stuck with this story (until I decided to disappear for a year and a half) and a very LARGE thank you to my beta reader marinawing. No matter how many grammar and spelling mistakes I threw at her she always managed to respond with positive feedback! Send you my love!
I do have another Dean-centric fic I'm working on, and I'm going to do my best to keep up at least semi-regular updates! So if you want, go check it out! :D