Disclaimer: Absolutely, possitively, double-negative not.

A/N: If this were a world in which things constantly went right, not only would I be able to not have to have a disclaimer on this story, but I as well would have updated much sooner. I moved at the beginning of the month to a new apartment, and as of yet, I have not been able to transfer over my internet. I am at my parents place posting this, which is good as it's my last chapter.
Ok, enough bitching. There is a small point to posting this story, as I've said before. I'm kind of looking to see if it's worth writing back up some of my things again-- maybe posting some more one shots or something. So, when you review this chapter/story, lemme know. Thanks! Well... enjoy!

For the first time in what seemed like forever Dean smiled, "Are… are you serious? You can bring him back?! You can bring my brother back?"

"Not quite," Erin shook her head, "I can bring you back. I can put you back to the day of the accident, but after that, it's up to you."

Dean's breath came in gasps, "I-I can stop the accident."

Erin nodded, "But it won't be easy Dean. It will be like waking from a dream and trying to remember what it was about. It will be up to you to remember what happened and to stop it."

"I-- I, yeah… of course I will!" Dean cried out, "I won't let Sam die again!"

"Alright Dean," Erin smiled and stood in front of Dean.

"N-Now?" Dean stuttered, stunned by the dramatic turns of events.

"If you're ready Dorothy," Erin laughed.

"Thank you," Dean wasn't surprised to find the tears returning to him again, "Thank you… so much."

"Thank you," Erin corrected, "And good luck Dean Winchester."

Without further words, Erin placed a solid hand on Dean's forehead…

"Hurry up Sam, it's time to hit the road!" Dean's yell echoed towards the bathroom and at the same moment, an odd sense of deja vous struck him.

Still frowning at the feeling of having said those words before Dean watched as Sam walked out of the bathroom in nothing but jeans and a white tank top. His face was pale save for the bright red cheeks that shone with fever. With a slight curve to his step, Sam walked into the main living area.

"Wow," Dean held back a laugh, "You look like crap Sammy."

"Thanks," Sam's voice slurred out, "Next time you want to give me something, give me money. Give me a deck of cards… hell, deck me upside the head. Just-- keep your damn flu bug to yourself."

"Don't worry," Dean spoke slowly, sure he'd had this conversation before, "It… it only lasts for about a day."

"Comforting," Sam leaned his exhausted body against the frame leading outside.

"Hey Sam…" Dean studied his brother, "Have we… umm, have we had this conversation before?"

"What?" Sam frowned through his glazed eyes, "Dean are you still sick?"

"No, no, I'm alright," Dean smirked and shook his head, "I just… had the strangest sense of deja vous."

"Lets go," Sam held up his old Wal-Mart bag with napkins.

"Good job Sammy," Dean commended.

"Call me that again, and I'm going to puke on you next time," Sam threatened.

Dean rolled his eyes as he began to pack everything into the Impala. Sam had been feeling sick for a while, and after the younger brother took care of Dean when he had his flu, Dean felt it was only right to return the favor. Besides which, they would be in New York in two days, and by then Sam would be better and back to his endlessly annoying self.

"Ready Sir Sicko?" Dean called towards the door after he'd finished packing.

"Gimmie a minute," Sam muttered out making a beeline dash towards the bushes.

Surprisingly patiently, Dean waited as he heard Sam get sick. Vaguely curious as to whose flowers his brother was violating, Dean tried to shake the feeling of having done this before. He'd had that feeling many times in his life, but never had it lasted this long, and was this vivid. Maybe there was something to it?

"Les'go," Sam muttered stepping back to the car and shaking Dean from his thoughts.

Once Dean was seated inside the car, and made sure Sam was sitting comfortably with his sick bag, the elder hunter felt the need to turn on the radio.

"Can't even wait until I'm asleep?" Sam muttered.

"I'll just stick it on the radio," Dean compromised, flicking the station.

'Babe, I got you babe…'

"Hey…" Dean smiled slightly, "Isn't this that song from that movie? Groundhog day I think."

"Yep," Sam muttered as Dean started up the car and put it into gear, "The one where he does the same day over again."

Dean's eyes widened and, without even realizing it, he slammed on the breaks. Both Sam and himself smashed forwards against the dashboard just as a bright red Malibu speed out in front, blaring its horn as the person sped off.

"Holy crap…" Dean gasped.

"What the--" Sam's eyes shot around in shock at what just happened.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, vivid memories shooting through his head. The Malibu smashing into the Impala. The fire. Sam's body engulfed in bright orange flames. The hospital. Sam was hurting and Dean couldn't stop it. Sam was gone. Erin… Erin brought him back so he could stop it all…

"Oh my God," Dean's breath caught in his throat as he looked over at Sam who sat there looking stunned but gloriously alive.

Without word, Dean put the car into park and leaned over to Sam. Not caring at all about how it looked, the elder brother pulled Sam into a hug as the tears burnt through his closed eyes. Shaking internally, Dean held tight in the awkward position until Sam spoke up.

"Dude…" Sam's voice was muffled inside Dean's leather jacket, "I'm gonna puke on you."

Shockingly that was all it took for Dean to quickly back away and open the drivers side door. His legs shook and his head pounded with the newly remembered events as he walked towards the front of the sleek black car that was still in one solid piece. Feeling all strength had left him, Dean leaned against the hood and stared off to where the Malibu sped.

"Dean?" Sam's voice came carefully from the passenger side, "…Dean are you ok?"

Dean looked over and saw Sam rounding to the front of the car. His face was still pale, and his eyes were glassed over, though both showed that of concern. A hug was something which was done when the brother's had almost died, or had died. That or if they were really drunk.

Sam didn't remember drinking any time recently, and he hardly considered a thoughtless driver as a near-death experience.

"Dude…?" Sam made it next to his brother; forcing anything inside his stomach to momentarily stay there.

Dean's whole body was trembling as he looked at Sam and spoke carefully, "That-- that car was going to hit us."

Sam frowned, "It was close Dean… but we've had close calls before."

Instead of responding to this, Dean looked intently at Sam, taking in his familiar features, "Are you alright?"

"I feel like I'm going to puke, and my pulse and temperature are having a race, but… yeah," Sam paused a long moment, "That and you're scaring the hell out of me right now."

Dean laughed lightly, "I'm sorry. I just… I'm really happy to see you Sammy."

Sam lightly touched Dean's arm, "Hey… you want to talk or something?"

Dean wrapped and arm around Sam's shoulder as he walked him towards the passenger side door, "How about we work on making sure you don't ruin the upholstery in my car first?"


"How are you feeling Sammy?" it was over twenty-four hours later, and Sam walked out of the bathroom with just a pair of jeans on.

Sam held up a thermometer, "98.7."

"Guess that shower helped then," Dean smiled, "Good that you're ok now."

"Yeah," Sam sat on one of the beds at a crummy hotel and faced Dean as water beaded down from his hair, "So… you want to talk about it now?"

"I already told you about it," Dean quickly said.

"Well lets pretend I'm stupid, and talk about it again," Sam half smirked, knowing that Dean was far from alright with the small amount of information he'd given.

"Pretend you're stupid…?"

"Hilarious," Sam spoke deadpan.

Dean sighed as he sat facing Sam. For a long moment he just looked at his little brother; still somewhat wet from his recent shower. Sam's torso was muscular from all the physical hunts they did, and showed no traces of any sort of burns. His wet hair fell haphazardly over his curious facial features, and his dark green eyes bore no traces of pain or hurt-- just immense curiosity of the no doubt awkwardly long inspection Dean was giving.

"I told you the basics," Dean started quietly, "That car hit us, and there was a fire. You-- you got burnt really bad dude," Dean nervously wiped his hand across his face, "They tried to help you, but it was too bad, and you… umm, you didn't…"

"Erin," Sam relieved Dean from the moment, "You said there was an… angel? Named Erin."

Dean cleared his throat, "Yeah. I mean, I didn't know what she was at first; she was disguised as a Nurse. Then after… you were gone, she came over to me. She said that she was a good guy, and told me how she knew of all the people who I-- we-- helped. She told me that there was things that would be against us succeeding, but that she wasn't one of them."

Sam laughed, "We have our own cheerleading squad."

Dean mimicked the laugh, "Yeah, well this one saved not only your ass, but my ass. I don't know what I would have done if… if you weren't around. Erin told me that I deserved someone brought back to me after all the people we've saved."

Sam smiled at his brother.

"What?" Dean looked suspiciously at Sam's grin.

"Dude…" a small chuckle escaped the younger hunter, "After what happened here, you're really gonna have to prove yourself. You're going to have to kick some serious ass now."

Dean smirked, "Yeah? How about we start with yours?"

Sam never saw the pillow coming.

The End.