Author's Note: Alrighty, then, here be the final chapter! Please don't kill me! Dodges flying objects…I decided to try something a little different, telling the ending from John, Sam, Bobby, and Dean's POV. Rufus also makes a little appearance and he is more than happy to share his thoughts! This is all told without the use of dialogue. Let me know what you think! Hugs! Double hugs to those who have written such lovely reviews, I'm sorry for not responding to everyone over the last chapter, real life has totally sucked!


Disclaimer: Yep, I still don't own them, just playing with them for my own sick and twisted sense of enjoyment!

Four days of anger, resentment, and grief. John had stormed to a motel nearby the hospital after his last fight with Sam. He'd snarled at the pimpled teenager behind the desk, stomped to his room, and proceeded to tear it apart. How dare that little shit speak to me like that? He had smashed every piece of glass he could get his hands on. He'd finished off the first bottle of Jack that he kept for "emergencies" in his truck and smashed that, too. He was glad he'd left the boys at the hospital. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to destroy everything in sight without Sam's puppy dog eyes or Dean trying to make it all better.

He couldn't stop thinking about how different his life would have been without his sons. He could have hunted freely, done what he needed when he needed. He realized in that moment that he kept them with him out of a sense of obligation. Every time he looked at Dean, he had been reminded of Mary. Their oldest son looked and acted nothing like John, he was Mary's son through and through. Then there was Sam, who was definitely John's son from his dark looks to his determined and stubborn behavior.

And now I'm free. Sam had given him the out he'd been looking for. They were both adults, and Bobby would keep an eye on them, so why not? Why not take care of my needs for once in twenty-some years? John continued to trash the room, enjoying the rips of material, crunch of glass under his boots, and the splintering of wood snapping under his wrath. He let loose a bark of hysterical laughter, and for the first time in years, felt freedom and loved every second of it.


Five days of anger, jealousy, and hatred. Sam had followed John out the door after an unfair attack on Dean. But that's how it always is, isn't it? Poor Dean, boo hoo. Sam knew that he was upset with his father and taking it out on his brother. That's not completely true either, is it? He wanted to just be angry. Angry with John for being a bastard that put his own children's lives in danger, and angry with Dean for not standing up for himself. If he wants to spend his life being taken advantage of, then he can go for it.

He had followed his father down the road to the cheap no-tell motel, watched him storm into his room and proceed to trash it. Sam felt his own anger boil up and threaten to spill. He wished he could snatch the bottle of Jack Daniels from his father, drain the rest of the amber liquor, and smash the bottle into his face. Wow, getting a little dark side there, Sammy-boy. He snorted to himself. He watched his father destroy the entire room before going to the office and harassing the zit-faced punk for a room.

He wanted a fight. After dumping his bag on the single bed in the tiny room, Sam headed straight for the Impala. He wanted that fight, and he intended to get it. He headed for a bar on the outskirts of town, where he planned to get nice and drunk before starting a pissing contest with any one bigger than him. Finally, I can do what I want, without Dad telling me what to do and Dean acting like everything is "peachy". Freedom had never tasted so good as he pummeled some redneck into the pavement.


Six days of sadness, anxiety, and fear. Bobby thought he would choke from the thickness of the sorrow surrounding the patient in that hospital room. Dean had mercifully been kept sedated for the first three days after Sam and John's explosion, but the doctor had come to the conclusion that "it's time for him to start dealing" and eased up on the medication. Dean started to stay awake for longer periods of time, and Bobby wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel when he saw the realization come to those hazy green eyes. That John and Sam had both really left him.

As the middle Winchester began to put the cloudy puzzle together, Bobby wasn't sure whether to hate the other two for putting him in this position, or to hate Dean for looking at him with such need in his eyes. The older hunter shook that thought from his head. This isn't Dean's fault, other than he should have told them both off a long time ago. He wanted nothing more than to comfort the boy, to tell him that he was loved, even if not by the two people he craved it from the most.

He spent most of his time talking to a silent young man, who only made a sound when he gave in to the pain and sobbed in Bobby's arms. The doctor was worried; he had whispered to Bobby that Dean was a "liability" and that he wanted the young man to see the hospital psychiatrist. He shrugged and gave permission. Dean won't talk to a shrink if he won't even talk to me, but knock yourself out. His heart warred with his mind; his heart was smug that his boy wouldn't talk to anyone other than himself, while his brain prayed that he would talk to someone rather than suffer in silence. It was then that Bobby had an idea and went out to call Rufus to help put his plan into motion.

When Bobby returned to the room with a tiny smile gracing his face, it quickly fell at the sight that greeted him. Dean was curled on his side with his back to the door, thin shoulders shaking. His poor boy was upset again, and it was something Bobby was tiring of. It took all of his willpower to push thoughts of hunting John and Sam Winchester down like animals from his mind. That'll only hurt him more. Besides, Rufus would be there shortly with his surprise. I'll show him that I love him. He went to the bed, grateful that all the tubes and wires, including the ventilator, were gone. He soothed his weathered hands down warm and sticky cheeks, telling both himself and Dean that things were about to get better. He felt a thrill of pride when he was rewarded with green eyes that sparked with curiosity. He hadn't seen that look in months, and he was pleased that he could bring that flicker back. He made plans about where they would go when Dean was release later that day. Bobby couldn't believe that they had been there for six days, with today being the seventh. Dean just lay curled up against him, grateful Bobby was there with him.

The hours bled into one another, and their peaceful silence was interrupted by Rufus bursting in. He had been irritated when Bobby had called and insisted the other hunter come to them in the hospital, but now Rufus was glad he had. His dark eyes linger over Dean, taking in how thin and pale the boy was, suddenly angry as hell with John and Sam. He was itchy to tell Bobby what he'd heard had befallen the two jackasses, but it could wait until later. He snorted to himself, remembering how his contact had snickered when telling him that both John and Sam had been arrested; Sam for assault and John for destruction of property. Serves the bastards right, and they ditched the only person who would bail them out.

He gladly handed over the bag of clothes he was carrying, which Dean took hesitantly and slipped into the bathroom to change. While the boy was dressing, Rufus handed over the surprise. Bobby's face lit up with excitement and nervousness. He didn't want to upset Dean. God, let this mean as much to him as it does me. Dean stepped back into the room, the clothes hanging loosely; seemingly shy as he watched the other two men in silence.

He felt like he was four years old again, desperately wanting attention and comfort that Bobby was so willing to give to him. Both men had stopped talking when he re-entered the room, and he watched them with inquisitive eyes. Bobby held out the surprise for him to take, and Dean slowly moved to them, his hands trembling as he reached out to take the proffered gift. He looked down to see a driver's license, displaying the name of Dean Singer. He looked from Bobby's watery smile, to Rufus's encouraging nod, and back to Bobby. He fell into the man's arms, sobbing and begging him to stay. Please, God, please let him love me.


One day of hope, courage, and anticipation. Dean walked out of the hospital wearing new clothes, with a new family, and a new outlook on his life. So many thoughts were racing through his mind, old hopes and dreams igniting. Bobby walked with one arm around his waist, clucking about medications and rest, and healing. Rufus walked on the other side of him, teasing him about how much Bobby was going to mother him. A small smile graced his lips for the first time in months. He didn't feel heavy or like a burden. He felt warm and cared for, and in that moment, he realized three things. He wanted to be happy. He wanted to be loved. He wanted to be Dean Singer, from this day forward.