Well here we are guys. Finally reached the end of the story. I hope you've all enjoyed it and thank you for everyone who's been reviewing.

I don't know what I'm writing next, it will probably depend on my mood when I next have time to write (tonight or tomorrow hopefully). Like I said before, I'm working on an unrelated story, a story about a Djinn, a Mary lives story, and possible sequels, and a deal breaking story that I'm actually pretty excited about. I suppose we'll see what happens. If anyone has a preference, mention it in a review and your desires will definitely be considered. :)

And, yeah, the ending is kinda random, but I had no idea how to give everything closure. Hopefully, people like it. :)


Dean opened his eyes, sitting up suddenly, his initial confusion fading in the wake of pure panic. The fortune teller was the first person he saw.

"Sam?" his voice was desperate, but he didn't care.

She smiled. "Waking up right now. He's okay, Dean. You did well."

Dean turned frantically to his little brother, forcing himself to stop and slow down as he caught sight of his brother's face as he sat up.

Clearly, Sam remembered what had happened. Shame, fear, pain all showed clearly on his face. His baby brother couldn't look him in the eyes, his form shaking, hands trembling as he raised them to cover his face.


Sam flinched as if he'd been struck, and wasn't that just enough to make Dean want to curl up in a ball and cry?

Dean slowly stood up, moving forward cautiously, as if dealing with a spooked animal.

"Sam, I'm not gonna hurt you, kiddo. It's me, I'm not gonna hurt you."

Dean sat down on the bed beside Sam, trying to ignore the way Sam curled into himself a little, as if silently begging not to be hit.

I wonder how many times he tried that with dad.

Fiery anger sprung up then, but Dean shoved it away.

Later. He'll pay later. Right now is Sam.

Dean gently wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling him gently but firmly into his arms. Sam was tense for a moment, but began to relax as Dean simply held him and nothing happened.

"What I said before still stands, Sammy. I'm on your side, always. I'm never giving up on you. You mean the world to me, Sammy, and if I had known what dad was doing I would have put a stop to it. I promise."

Sam was quiet a minute. "You mean it?"

Dean tightened his grip. "Yes. I promise you, Sam, and you know I never break my promises."

Finally, Sam relaxed against his brother, gripping his shirt, tears beginning to fall.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean gently rubbed his brother's back. "It's okay. It's over."


Dean reluctantly stood. "Come on, Sammy. Let's head to a motel. You can get some rest there."

Sam started to stand, but nearly crumpled. He would have, if Dean hadn't grabbed him in alarm.

"Sammy? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Sam grimaced, clutching his brother for support as Dean held him up.

"She, um, she tortured me for hours, Dean. White hot pain...b-before she finally said you were here and cast the spell."

Dean closed his eyes, silently wishing he would be the one to kill that stupid witch for everything she had done to his baby brother.

Yet...part of him couldn't regret it. He never would have found out the truth otherwise.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy."

Sam offered him a small smile. "Not your fault, Dean." Giving his brother a grateful look, he changed the subject. "Come on, I'm tired. Let's get."

Dean glanced at the fortune teller, still watching them, smiling. "Thank you."

He didn't say it often, but when he did, he meant it.

Her smile softened. "You are more than welcome, Dean. You boys need someone on your side. Besides, you'll repay the favor someday."

Dean's brows furrowed, a question on his lips, but she just laughed, waving them out. "You'll find out. Most of the future is meant to never be revealed. This is one thing you will just have to find out in time."

Finally, Dean shrugged and ushered his brother out the door.

Not as creepy as I thought the first time I met her, but still creepy.


"Hello?" Dean flipped his phone open without looking at it, distracted by his brother, who he was currently watching sleep. Just in case...


Dean straightened. It was their father.

"Witch is dead." Almost as an afterthought, John added, "Sam?"

"Sam's fine. I fixed it last night."

"Good. I'll- Hey. There's the Impala. I'll be in in a second."

Dean's eyes widened. Crap! How the heck did he find us? Sam. What am I going to do? The kid doesn't need to see that #$%#$ again.

Dean gently grabbed his brother's arm, immediately wrenching him from sleep. "Sammy, dad found us."

The fear in Sam's eyes was unmistakable. Dean could see it now that he was looking for it and he could have kicked himself (again), but stopped himself, knowing this wasn't the time.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

A knock at the door.

Sam's face was ghost white.

"It'll be okay, Sammy."

Sam nodded and Dean knew they were as ready as they could be.


As he opened the door, Dean told himself over and over to keep his cool. He didn't to upset Sam, no matter how badly he wanted to kill the man who had made his brother suffer so badly.

All the horror he had seen would be for him and Sam to share, through nightmares, for the rest of their lives. The intense emotions of hate and fear that Sam dealt with on a daily basis at home and in his own head just killed Dean.

Before he really knew what he was doing, Dean's fist was swinging, smashing into John's jaw with great force, knocking him back against the wall.

"What the heck are you doing, Dean?" John growled.

It all came spilling out, Dean's fury screamed for the room to hear. "How could you? You...you hypocrite! How many times did you tell me to watch out for Sam, then turn right around and hit him? All those years of fighting, all those years we could have been a happy family, you destroyed it! How many times did you send me out on an errand, or let me go on a date or to a party, send me on a hunt, and spend the whole time I was gone tearing into Sam? Your baby, my little brother, the child I swore to protect, who you were supposed to protect!"

John's eyes were wide for just a second, before they narrowed. "You watch your mouth, boy."

Dean's tone dropped into a fierce, but soft snarl, something reserved usually for the things he hunted.

"You gonna hit me, John? Come on, I dare you. Show how much of a coward you truly are."

"Samuel didn't get anything from me that he didn't deserve."

Dean spun around, stalking over to the far wall, trying one last time to get his temper under control.

Don't kill him. Don't kill him.


The second Dean's back was turned, John grabbed a fistful of a wide-eyed Sam's shirt, pulling him in close.

No. No, please, not again.

"You told him?" His voice soft and dangerous.

Sam felt himself start to shake, doggedly swinging his head back and forth, years of panic and fear quickly brought back to the surface at the familiar situation.

A second later, Dean was there.

He pushed John away violently, his own fury exploding at the sudden and obvious fear in his baby brother's eyes. He had his father pinned against the wall a moment later, a knife pressed to his throat.

It took Sam a second to realize that Dean was really going to kill their father.

The younger brother was overwhelmed by a feeling of safety and love, then a second later by fear. He knew he couldn't let his brother do this.

He was moving before he had really decided what to do, pulling his brother back away from their father, wrapping his arms around his chest firmly.

Dean struggled, even as John backed slowly towards the door, surprised at the sudden change.

"Let me go, Sam. I'm gonna kill him. I swear I'm gonna kill him."

"I can't let you do that, Dean. I won't let you do something you'd regret."

"I won't regret it. Never. That #$%$ hurt you and nothing that hurts you lives. Nothing." Dean snarled, jerking against Sam's hold.

"Yes, you will, Dean. Someday, you will. You're angry now, but you will regret it when your calm."

"Let me go, Sammy."

"You aren't like him, Dean. You aren't! I won't let you become him either. Let it go."

Dean stopped then, breathing hard. Finally, he threw John one last hard look. "Guess he's not hte monster you thought he was, huh? He's the only reason you aren't dead right now. Leave before I change my mind."

The door was closed a second later, their father gone.

Silence reigned as both boys thought about the implications of what had just happened.

Finally, Dean glanced down at the arms that were still wrapped around his chest and decided the mood needed to be lightened.

"You know, if you wanted to hold me, Sammy, you could have just asked."

Dean heard a familiar huff behind him as Sam released him.

"You big girl." Dean added as he turned around to throw a grin up at Sam.

Sam returned the grin, despite the fight to keep it off his face.



Things aren't perfect, but they'll be okay. We'll be okay.


The next few months were some of the hardest and best of the boy's lives.

Sam returned to Stanford, resuming his studies.

Dean became his new roommate, both of them pitching in to get a small but nice apartment that they could share. Dean took hunts in California, never staying gone for long or taking hunts that could possibly take him away from his brother.

Needless to say, after such an emotionally charged change in their lives, Dean had begun to realize how much his baby brother needed him and he refused to let something happen that would hurt the center of his world.

Sam was happier than he'd ever been. Dean told him every day, even when he was gone on a hunt, in his own little ways, that he cared for him. His older brother was determined to show him the truth and Sam felt better about himself than he ever heard.

Dean's little brother radar was working overtime. It almost freaked Sam out how often Dean called when he was feeling depressed or guilty or hurt, ready with a joke or kind word to reassure him.

Eventually, Sam began to believe it too: We're going to be okay.

The Winchester brothers are back and stronger than ever.

Nothing, not even their own minds, could defeat the combined efforts of the two.


Dean lounged on the couch, reveling in the cool air of their apartment.

"Hey, Sammy! Food! I want food, #$%^!"

Sam came out of his room, rolling his eyes.

"Then get some food you lazy bum."

Dean opened his eyes, gazing at his baby brother in amusement and false outrage.

"Lazy bum? I'm the money maker in this house, I don't think I'm the lazy one."

"Money maker? You hustle pool."

"Your point is?"


"I know. I'm amazing."

"Yep. That's you do. Simply amazing." Sam's voice dripped sarcasm, but both of them picked up on the truth in the words, the real belief Sam had.

Yeah. Yeah, Dean, you are amazing. Not like I'd ever tell you that. You've got a big enough head as it is.

Dean offered his brother a real smile, lounging back on the couch.

"Life is good, baby brother."

"That it is."

"It'd be better if you'd get me food."

Sam huffed in amusement. "Fine. I'll make something." he finally gave in.

"You rock, Sammy."

"I know."

"Modest too."

"I know that too."

Dean shook his head.

I taught that kid well. We'll give him a big head yet.

...but not too big.