Welcome to the final chapter! ...it makes me sad to say it as much as it probably makes you sad to read it. :(

Thank you to every one who has taken the time to read the story and to those of you who have been so generous and kind to review! I hope you will enjoy this final chapter and that it will bring the story to a satisfying conclusion. :)

Chapter 15

Dean lingered just long enough to be certain Sam had fallen asleep, then wandered back to the kitchen. He finished the dishes while considering everything they'd discussed. It had been one of the strangest conversations they'd ever had and that was saying something.

Grabbing another beer, he wandered through the bunker, shutting off the lights and enjoying the peace and quiet.

Eventually returning the way he'd come, Dean found himself again at his brother's door.

He took a long sip of the beer and wondered where Lotus Pffercorn was today. If she was alive. If she'd ever married. If she'd remember him. At the time, it had been a thrill to be the focus of her attention. Now, though, he could see it from Sam's perspective and it was a little less thrilling in retrospect.

Just imagining if it had been Sam instead of him turned Dean's stomach and he could understand why his brother was so upset. Even twenty some years later. Because Sam had a point. Their dad hadn't been there to watch out for either of them. And Dad hadn't been there to protect him from a situation that he never should have gotten into. Dean wondered, not for the first time, how their lives could have been different if they'd had a father who had been there the way he should have been.

It was pointless to think about it, though. There was no going back, no changing anything. All they could do was keep going.

Dean finished his beer there in the doorway, watching his brother sleep, then walked back to his own room. He pulled his boots off and fell into bed, fully intending to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. But his mind refused to shut down. He couldn't stop thinking about the things Sam had said.

It wasn't the first time Sam had said some of it.

Dean remembered when he'd made his deal and how Sam had tried to make him realize how unfair it was. He'd only been able to think about the fact he could never live with himself after failing to protect his brother. Sam had tried to make him understand, but he hadn't. Dean hadn't understood until he'd come back from hell and seen first hand what his own death had done to his brother.

He'd always thought Sam could go on. Could be fine. It had never occurred to him - until it was too late - that maybe Sam needed him as much as he needed Sam. Dean thought back over the years and knew he had almost exclusively brushed aside any gestures of protection or caring on the part of his brother. For him, protecting Sam was the only priority and he'd always struggled to accept that Sam reciprocated the feeling.

They'd never discussed it in so much detail and he'd never understood how much it bothered Sam. Their childhood had been far from ideal and although Dean was seeing more of the issues as he looked back now, he didn't regret any of it. Sure, he'd change things if he could. Yes, he would have liked to have had more of a chance to be a kid. Sam's childhood hadn't been ideal, either, but Dean had tried. He didn't regret giving up his childhood to give Sam even the smallest bit of normalcy.

He didn't regret hiding as much of the darkness from his brother as he could for as long as possible. Didn't regret the things he'd missed out on so he could allow Sam to experience them. He didn't regret the times he'd gone without things he needed in order to provide them for his brother.

And he'd never once regretted making his deal after Cold Oak.

Sure, he viewed watching out for Sam to be his job. Because it was. But it wasn't a job he hadn't readily accepted or wanted. He had accepted it gladly. But for the first time, Dean realized that Sam didn't necessarily understand all of that. And he realized that he had never understood where Sam was coming from.

He'd known that Sam cared. He just hadn't realized how much he'd shut Sam out over the years. How much he'd discounted the way his brother worried about him and how protective he felt.

When they'd been joking around about their firsts, Dean had never expected the topic of Lotus to cause such a disturbance. But after listening to his brother explain it, Dean was seeing everything in a new light.

If the situation had been reversed, he would have been livid. Whether he'd found out about it back when they were in their teens, or his brother had just revealed it now, Dean knew he'd be furious and rightfully so.

To have Sam be so angry about something that happened so long ago felt pretty good. It felt good because he realized how much he meant to his brother.

Dean closed his eyes. The nightmares were still lurking and heaven help him if Sam ever did find out what he'd done at that clinic. But for now, for tonight?

Dean was going to sleep.

Waking up in the morning was a relief.

Dean's sleep had been disturbed by more than one nightmare. Whether it had been Billie's face laughing at him, or Billie's hand reaching for his brother, Dean had startled awake, fear pulsing through his bones. Each time, he'd fallen back to sleep, the cumulative exhaustion of the past few weeks dragging him back down. But he felt far from rested.

He'd left the hall light on and the door open last night, so the light helped bring him back to awareness. Stretching, he yawned again, then tried to get his eyes to focus on his watch. When he finally was able to make out the time, he was instantly awake.

Because it was almost nine in the morning and he'd forgotten to set an alarm. Sam would have been due for painkillers hours ago and he'd been trying to keep him on schedule so the pain didn't get out of control. Pushing himself upright, he grabbed his phone. No texts, no messages. Cursing himself for not setting that alarm, Dean hurried out into the hall.

Reaching the other bedroom, Dean felt a little better. Sam wasn't awake and he looked comfortable. In fact, he looked like he'd never moved all night. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to be hurting when he woke up.

Yawning, Dean slowly made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of the prescription painkillers and a glass of water. Nothing had changed by the time he walked back into the bedroom.

"Sam." He sat down on the edge of the bed and nudged him in the shoulder. "Wake up."

It took longer than he would have liked, but Sam finally began to show signs of awareness. He was moving carefully, even half-asleep, and Dean could see the tension in his body and the pained expression on his face. Taking his opportunity while his brother wasn't fully awake yet, Dean brushed a hand over his forehead.

Dean breathed a little easier. No fever.

"Stop touching me," Sam mumbled sleepily. He attempted to bat Dean's hand away but wasn't coordinated enough to make contact.

Ignoring the comment, Dean tapped his shoulder again and asked, "How'd you sleep?"

Sam blinked at him slowly, obviously struggling to wake up. "What time is it?"

"What difference does it make?"

Sam lifted his hand from his chest just far enough to give a dismissive wave.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's kind of what I figured. So what're you thinkin?"

"I don't want to move."

"You feelin' worse?"

"No."

"Good. You're overdue for the happy pills." Dean waited a moment to see if there would be any protest, but Sam just stared at him, so he continued. "You gonna get up or you expect me to serve you breakfast in bed?"

"I got shot," Sam honest to goodness whined, pulling a pillow over his face.

"You are such a baby." Dean snorted and shook his head. He pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door, leaving the pills and the glass of water on the nightstand.

A pillow hit him on the back of the head as he walked out of the room and Dean was impressed with Sam's aim. He grinned all the way to the kitchen as he contemplated breakfast.

For once, they had the time to lay low. And even if there was something going on out there, Dean was going to ignore it for at least another day or two. Right now, he felt like they deserved to hide out for a few more days considering they'd both nearly died.

The mere thought almost dampened his mood, but he shoved it aside and concentrated on the fact that his brother had pitched a pillow at his head. He wasn't feeling good, that was obvious, but he was whining and throwing pillows so Dean knew he was getting better.

Since he hadn't received a straight answer from his brother about how he was feeling, Dean wasn't sure what to do about breakfast. After a minute, he decided he should start with something on the boring side. So he toasted a bagel, buttered half and ate it while he buttered the other half.

Walking back into the bedroom, he found that no progress had been made whatsoever. Sam still had the pillow over his face which made the fact he'd managed to hit the back of Dean's head with another pillow that much more impressive.

Dean tapped the pillow and said, "Room service."

It took a few seconds, but Sam pushed the pillow aside and he looked so out of it that Dean wondered if he'd actually fallen back to sleep in the short time he'd been away.

"You gotta sit up." Dean set the bagel down on the edge of the desk and reached for the glass of water.

Sam stared at him for a long time, then asked, "Can you move the pillows?"

"Got it covered." Dean grabbed the one off the floor and piled it on top of the rest of the pillows.

"Where's-"

Dean held out a pillow. "Right here."

Sam pressed it to his side and slowly pushed himself upright. He made it just far enough to qualify as sitting up then collapsed into the pillows. Holding out his hand, Sam took the pills, then swallowed them with a sip of water. Dean held up the bagel.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "That's breakfast?"

"Hey, you want better food, you should've stayed in a classier joint," Dean said, handing him the bagel. "If that settles ok, you can pick whatever you want."

"Pancakes," Sam said before he'd even taken a bite. He smiled wearily and started eating the bagel.

"Fine, fine. Sit tight." Dean left him there and once again headed for the kitchen.

By the time he had the coffee brewing, the pancakes mixed up and bacon frying on the stove, Sam had wandered into the kitchen. Dean poured the batter out into a perfectly shaped pancake and said, "Thought you weren't gonna move."

"I'm tired of being in bed."

Dean couldn't blame him. "You want coffee?"

"Please."

Pouring them both a cup, Dean asked, "Bacon?"

"No."

Dean turned around with the coffee and found his brother with his head down on his arm on the table. Setting the coffee down next to him, Dean said, "Maybe you shouldn't be up?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah. You look it." Dean headed back to flip the pancakes.

"I need to find us a case."

Dean snorted. "You've got to be joking. You've been out of bed for less than ten minutes and you haven't managed to sit up straight yet. I'll be impressed if you can sit up enough to even log onto the laptop."

Sam didn't attempt to prove him wrong by sitting up. He just stayed where he was and mumbled into his arm, "You know, I think I feel worse because we don't have anything going on right now."

Flipping a pancake, Dean had to admit he had a point. Downtime wasn't very typical even when they were injured. If they were busy, then they didn't have time to dwell on the pain and misery.

He dropped the first pancake on a plate and asked, "You want me to go dump all the paperwork out of those files you obsessively keep organized? Give you something to do."

"Touch my files and you die."

Dean laughed and set the plate on the table. "Hey, I was just tryin' to give you something to do. Here. Food."

"Syrup?"

"So needy," Dean muttered, but he went and grabbed the syrup anyway.

Setting it beside the plate, he waited, but there was no movement from his brother so he went back to the stove and finished cooking the pancakes. Piling a stack on a plate with a generous helping of bacon, Dean headed back for the table.

He ate half of his pancake stack before Sam began to straighten up. Dean munched on a slice of bacon and studied his brother. He didn't look good, but he didn't look as bad as he had yesterday, so that was something anyway. Dean nudged the syrup closer.

"Thanks." Sam doused his pancake.

"Mmhm." Dean settled back and took a sip of coffee.

For a few minutes, they ate in silence. Sam finished the pancake and Dean grabbed another one and plopped it on the puddle of syrup before Sam could say he didn't want it. He seemed a bit annoyed, but wasted no time in finishing off the second pancake.

Dean grabbed another pancake for himself and asked, "So what're you thinking?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"About what you wanna do." Dean reached for another piece of bacon. "You gonna sleep all day or you wanna binge watch The Walking Dead?"

"You don't think we get enough walking dead in our lives?"

Dean grinned. "So is that a no?"

Rolling his eyes, Sam took a sip of coffee. "It's not a no. But I'm gonna take a shower first."

Dean nodded, finishing his coffee. "Afterwards, I should take a look at-"

Sam put his hand against his side. "I think I can take it from here."

"Fine. But if you don't tell me if that wound starts oozing green goo and you keel over from sepsis, I'm probably going to kick your ass."

Sam grinned. "Duly noted."

"You want another pancake?"

"Not right now. Tasted good, though."

Dean nodded, proud of his pancakes. "From scratch. Not from a box."

Sam's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Box mixes don't taste as good," Dean said, pushing himself to his feet and gathering up the plates. "Can't get 'em fluffy enough."

Sam watched his brother clearing away their plates and marveled once again at the sight of his brother being so...domestic. The urge to tease him about it crossed his mind, but he dismissed it immediately. Because the pancakes had been fluffy and tasted amazing and he wasn't going to risk the chance of Dean never making him pancakes again. So he kept his mouth shut as Dean started washing the dishes. For a few minutes, they were silent. Sam finished his coffee, feeling the painkillers kicking in.

"I'm sorry I left you there," Dean said, out of the blue.

"Where?"

"In that cabin."

Sam sighed. "You thought I was dead, man. You were trying to get them to safety."

Dean nodded, not turning around. He set a clean plate on the towel next to the sink and said, "Must've sucked. Waking up there alone."

"Oh, it wasn't bad." Sam tried to downplay the situation. "Kind of the ultimate adrenaline rush I guess."

Sam was never going to elaborate to his brother how exquisitely horrible the entire thing had been. It had been terrifying to wake up alone. Part of it was from the pain and fear from having a severe injury and knowing he was so far from help. But the worst of it had been the terror of not knowing what was happening to his brother and knowing Dean must have thought he was dead.

Dean nodded, finally turning around. He leaned back against the sink and said, "You know, sometimes I still want to give it all up. Lock the doors of the bunker and stay here. I'm sick of...everything. We've given an awful lot to the life and sometimes I wish we could get something in return. There's not a lot left we can lose."

It surprised Sam to hear Dean being so honest, but it told him how traumatic the recent events had been for his brother. He couldn't disagree, though. They didn't have a lot left to give. And giving each other up had never really worked out well for either of them. But since there was no retirement plan in their future, all they could do was keep fighting.

"You're right," Sam said, after a moment of silence. "I wish we didn't have to do it. Wish we didn't have to be on a Reaper's hit list. Be in the middle of yet another global catastrophe. But it's our life. And I can't imagine doing anything else."

A small smile appeared on Dean's face and he nodded slowly. "Yeah, me neither."

Sam returned the smile and pushed himself to his feet. He was a little unsteady and, of course, Dean didn't miss it.

"You gonna make it to the shower?"

"I'll go slow."

"Dude, you got shot, nearly smothered, took out three werewolves, got out of the woods, and drove yourself to the freakin' clinic," Dean said, with a mixture of pride and disbelief, "so I think you got this."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Dean started clearing off the table. "Go take your shower. I'll get Netflix queued up and make some popcorn."

Sam laughed. "Don't you think we should wait on the popcorn? We just ate breakfast."

"Never too early for popcorn. Especially when we're going to be binge watching zombies," Dean said, leaving no room for argument. "I need popcorn, man."

"Fine." Sam waved a hand as he slowly limped to the door.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You're starting to worry me. You just agreed with me about popcorn after breakfast. Maybe you need to go back to the doctor. Something's obviously wrong if you're agreeing with me."

Sam turned and leaned against the door frame. He smiled and said, "We agree on a lot of stuff."

"No we don't. We don't agree on almost anything."

"We agree on the important stuff. Like this," Sam said, motioning between them. "And this is what's important."

Dean wanted to make a mouthy comment about how sappy Sam was, but he couldn't. After everything in the past few days, and their conversation the previous night, it didn't feel right to joke about it. Because Sam was right. This was what mattered. It was the only important thing they'd had all their lives. It was the thing that had gotten them this far. Through mountains of mistakes and heaps of bad decisions. Through pain and sorrow and laughter and fun.

They'd lost everyone they'd ever cared about and everything - save the Impala - they'd ever called their own. Dean knew they were dysfunctional. Understood what he'd done at the clinic had been unbelievably stupid. It hadn't been the first time one of them had done something unbelievably stupid to try to save the other.

And it wouldn't be the last.

The thought chilled him, but Dean knew in his heart he would never be able to not to try everything and beyond to protect his brother. To save him.

"I'd do anything for you." Sam's quiet voice drew him back to the present.

Dean nodded. The knowledge warmed him and terrified him because he knew how far Sam would go. How far they'd both already gone.

"But I'm not gonna clean the Impala."

Dean smiled at the teasing. He appreciated Sam's offer of a convenient out from the emotionally charged conversation they'd inadvertently struck up. He wanted to simply take it and and move on before things got any sappier. But he couldn't just let it all go that easily.

So he said, "You will be cleaning the Impala. Eventually. I'll give you a couple more sick days-"

"Because I got shot."

"Yes, because you got shot." Dean rolled his eyes. Here he was trying to be serious for once and Sam wasn't letting him get it out. "But I will be taking that free pass card away if you play it too often, little brother."

Sam just smiled because they both knew better.

Dean rolled his eyes again and huffed in annoyance. Sam started to move and Dean knew it was now or never. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Just...thanks." Well, that was so eloquent.

"For what?"

"For...not dying on me out there. And for everything...for what you said last night. Ok? I get it now. I understand where you were coming from and why the thing with Lotus was such a big deal. And...uh...thanks."

Sam studied him for a long moment, and Dean could see the emotions bright in his eyes as he mulled over those statements. Finally, he nodded and said, "You're welcome."

Dean grinned. "It's nice to know you haven't been keepin' me around all these years just for my witty humor and good looks."

"Dude, your good looks have nothing to do with me." Sam laughed, then pressed his hand against his side with a grimace. "And if you ever hook up with Miss Pffercorn again, I do not want to hear about it."

Dean shuddered. "She's in her fifties. That's gross."

"You're gross," Sam said as he left the kitchen.

There was no point in arguing back. Dean grinned as he started the popcorn. Once it was ready, he went to Sam's room and turned on the tv. He channel hopped until he heard footsteps in the hall. Setting the remote aside, Dean went in search of his brother.

Sam was halfway to him, hair wet and footsteps unsteady, but he smiled as he asked, "Popcorn ready?"

"Ready." Dean nodded. "You ready for a comfy bed? Ice pack?"

"Yes, please."

And then Sam was leaning against him like he'd done all their lives and Dean smiled. He couldn't help but think back to the thousands of motel rooms, Rufus' cabin, Bobby's place. They'd stayed in a lot of different places over the years, but never, not once, had they ever had a place to call their own.

But now they had a home and they were still together.

The Darkness and every other evil thing was still out there and they had to deal with all of that. But right now, Dean was going to deal with three things only. He was going to get his brother comfortable. He was going to eat popcorn and spend the day watching Netflix with his brother because they were both alive.

There were a few perks to their job and flexibility was one of them.

Reaching Sam's bedroom, Dean teased, "You gonna want me to fluff up your pillows?"

"Yeah."

Dean did a double take. That hadn't been what he'd expected at all. But Sam didn't look like he was joking around. He reached the edge of the bed and slumped down, arms around his waist. Considering he hadn't even been out of bed that long, he looked exhausted. Dean smiled a little and fluffed up the pillows.

Sam sank into them with a sigh and curled up on his side. He looked about three deep breaths from falling asleep, but forced his eyes open. Glancing up, he asked, "You gonna start the show?"

"You're almost asleep." Dean shook his head. "We can watch later and-"

"I don't mind," Sam interrupted. He yawned, then said, "I'll just listen. It's mostly shooting and munching anyway."

Unable to hold back a laugh, Dean patted Sam on the shoulder and said, "More popcorn for me."

"Mmm hmm."

Dean grabbed the remote and hit play as he settled on the bed next to his brother.

Sam turned the tv off and glanced to his left. Dean was sound asleep sitting up against the headboard. When exactly he'd dozed off, Sam didn't know.

They'd spent the better part of the day watching back to back episodes, even though he'd slept through fifty-percent of it. Sam smiled and settled a little more comfortably. He thought about the past few days. The ups and downs. The nightmare of everything that had happened in Idaho. Their conversation about firsts.

"Hey," Dean's soft voice interrupted his thoughts, "you ok?"

"Yeah. I'm good." Sam shifted against his pillow and looked up at his brother. "You missed the end of the episode."

Dean yawned and rubbed his eyes. "You missed most of all the episodes."

Sam smiled and closed his eyes. It had been less about watching tv for him and more about the fact they were together and...not dead. He'd rested more comfortably today than he had ever since he'd been shot.

"What're you smiling about?"

The bed shifted and Sam opened his eyes again. Dean was studying him with a curious expression on his face. Knowing he would get teased for his reply, Sam answered honestly nonetheless.

"I'm glad you're here."

Dean's eyebrows rose and Sam waited for the mouthy remark. Instead, Dean said, "Yeah. I'm glad you're here, too."

This time Sam was the one surprised. Not about what Dean had said, but about the fact he'd said it. Obviously, everything they'd gone through had left Dean a little more open than he typically was.

Clearing his throat, Dean looked away and said, "The first time-"

Sam frowned, holding his breath. Dean had broken off and whatever he was about to say clearly wasn't easy for him. He was staring blankly at the wall, but Sam knew he was seeing something else. After a long moment, Dean went on.

"The first time you died, I...it all ended. It all ended for me right then." Dean still wasn't looking at him and his words were nearly whispered. "I didn't know how to-"

"I know," Sam cut him off, sensing how difficult this was for his brother. "I know, Dean. I felt the same way when-"

"You don't get it." Dean pushed himself to the edge of the bed, the tension evident in his posture.

"What?" Sam was dumbfounded.

"You don't get it."

"Like hell I don't!"

Dean didn't move, but said, "It's different."

"How is it different? Didn't you listen to anything I said before?" Sam asked, pushing himself up, too.

He didn't receive a reply and Sam gritted his teeth; partially out of frustration and partially out of pain. Pressing his hand to his side, he sat up on the opposite side of the bed, his own back turned to his brother. Sometimes he felt like Dean never heard him. Shaking his head, he wondered where they went from here.

"You're right," Dean said softly after a very long period of silence. "It isn't different. I want it to be, but it isn't."

Well that was new and unexpected. Turning slightly, Sam didn't look at his brother, but asked, "Why do you want it to be different?"

"Because I never wanted you to get hurt and I never wanted you to feel the kind of pain I felt every time you did." Dean sighed. "I never cared if some idiot beat me up, so long as he left you alone. I didn't care if I missed out on something, as long as you got to try it if you wanted to. Whatever injury I got on a hunt, I could handle it. But if you got hurt, it was different. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I never wanted you to care so much...because I know how much it hurts to care that much."

Sam's eyes burned as understanding washed over him. It was as if Dean had finally translated an ancient text that Sam had been staring at for a lifetime, yet never been able to read. All these years, Sam had never been able to understand why Dean would never allow him to be protective. To be worried. To care. He'd always attributed it to the fact that, egotistical as he sometimes acted, Dean never saw his own worth. His own value.

And although Sam had no doubts but what that played an important role in the situation, now he finally was being allowed a glimpse of Dean's deepest feelings. Not only was he protective and always trying to keep Sam from injury, he was also trying to protect him from the pain of caring when Dean was injured or mistreated. Dean didn't care that he'd been taken advantage of as a teenager, but he would have completely lost it if the same thing had happened to Sam. Dean would take a bullet for him, but couldn't handle the idea that Sam would do the same. And he couldn't handle the fact that Sam's pain at his death had been just as profound as Dean's pain had been when Sam had died at Cold Oak.

It was amazing that, after a lifetime of living side by side, Sam was finally getting to know his brother.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For telling me that. For helping me to understand." Sam shifted and looked over his shoulder. Dean was still sitting with his back to him and had his head in his hands. Sam repeated, "I understand. I didn't. I never did. But now I do."

Dean straightened up. He didn't turn, but said, "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Sammy."

"Ok."

This time Dean did turn to look at him and Sam could see the emotion was bright in his brother's eyes.

"I understand where you're coming from now," Sam said. "You understand where I'm coming from, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Then we're good."

"We are?" Dean frowned at him.

"We aren't?"

"Uh...no. I...I mean, yeah. Yeah. We are." Dean floundered for a bit, then smiled. "We're good."

Sam returned the smile. "So."

"So?"

"So what now?"

"What now tonight or what now everything else?" Dean asked with a smirk.

"How about what now tonight? I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with everything else yet."

"Works for me." Dean nodded and stood up. "As far as tonight? You are lying down and going back to sleep."

Sam wanted to protest, but he was already having trouble keeping his eyes open despite the fact he'd slept most of the day. He settled back against the pillows and asked, "What about you?"

"Me? I think I'm gonna grab a beer and go to the shooting range."

"Don't stay up too late," Sam said, not bothering to ask why his brother needed to go shoot things at eleven pm.

Dean paused at the door and asked, "Why? You worrying about me, little brother?"

Sam adjusted the blankets, then said, "Not even a little."

"No?" Dean smirked.

"No. I just don't want you to stay up all night because I want pancakes again in the morning." Sam smiled sweetly.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sorry, dude. I don't think you deserve any more special treatment."

"But I got shot!"

"Yeah, and you're starting to make me annoyed enough to forget that fact."

Sam closed his eyes, still smiling. Because it was good to hear his brother's teasing again and to know things were going back to normal. And it was good to know he might actually have gotten through to his brother.

He'd known his entire life how important Dean was to him. After all these years, maybe he'd finally been able to help his brother understand.

Dean watched Sam fall asleep.

And then he went to his room and climbed into his own bed. He didn't go to the shooting range and he didn't stay up late. Because Sam wanted pancakes in the morning. And he'd been shot. Which kind of earned him some more time to be lazy and needy and a complete pain in the ass.

Dean went to bed because he was tired and knew he needed the rest. He went to bed and he slept better than he had in ages. And he slept that way because he understood what Sam had been trying to tell him. He accepted something he hadn't truly accepted before.

He accepted the fact that he was important.

Sam had proven it to him endlessly over the years.

Dean just hadn't been paying attention.

Maybe he was only important to one person. Maybe he only ever had been.

But that one person was the most important person to him so it all worked out in the end.

~The End~

Hope you enjoyed!

As a little heads up on what's ahead for me... I have a humorous story that will likely be posted next. It's complete and just needs some polish then it will be ready to go. :) I have a few other stories in the works as well; finally getting into season 12. I am not sure if i'll be posting in November or not because I'm participating in NaNoWriMo yet again. :D

As a point of interest to any of you who have read The Christmas Spirit and/or Face Down in the Desert, my NaNo project this year is going to be the story of Tommy and Arla Pender. :) From the night they met going forward to everything up to when they meet the boys in TCS. :D

Anyway! Hope you all enjoyed this journey; I loved writing and sharing it with you!

Until next time, best wishes and happy reading! :)