Okay guys, this is the last chapter where all the reconciliation and feels happen finally :)

So next week I have kind of a strange but hopefully fun story that I am going to start posting. It's a pseudo crossover/parody and that's all I'm going to say for now. I will start posting that next Friday but I might have a one-shot up before then, it just depends on how much time I get to write this week.

Thanks again to everyone who read, followed, and faved this!

Chapter Seven

Sam drifted out of the warm light eventually, becoming aware of his surroundings before he fully committed to waking. He knew he was in a hospital because there were the steady beeps of machines and the bed was just slightly uncomfortable, and the sheets a little less scratchy than the typical motel. Plus the smell of alcohol—clinical grade stuff, not the kind that accompanied Bobby's house—not to mention the uncomfortable feeling of wires and tubes attached to him.

Then he heard voices and felt bodies shifting nearby as if moving closer to him.

"Cas?"

"He's waking up."

"Sammy?"

Sam had to open his eyes then after hearing his brother's voice because he knew Dean wouldn't leave him alone until he did and at this point, he was really just hoping to go back to sleep, maybe with another dose of the morphine he knew he was on.

He blinked his eyes open and focused on his surroundings. The first thing he saw was Dean hovering over him, leaning over the bed. His face was drawn and looked horrific, weary lines that told of worry and sleeplessness.

"D'n," Sam slurred.

Dean closed his eyes in relief and sank back into the chair that was sitting by the bed. "Thank God." He rubbed his hand over his face, before settling it on Sam's arm as if needing the physical contact.

"M'okay," Sam tried to assure his brother, frowning. Yes he'd gotten shot, but he didn't know why Dean seemed so surprised and relieved that he was waking up.

"Well, you weren't," Dean snapped. "You crashed by the time we got you here—they had to jump start you! Twice! If Cas hadn't stepped in when he did, we may have lost you anyway."

"Dean," Cas walked around the bed then to settle a cautionary hand on the elder Winchester's shoulder, but Sam's memory was already flowing back. He remembered killing the wendigo and then it was all darkness.

Until it wasn't.

He had almost said yes to Lucifer. He'd been so exhausted that he had almost lost himself. Dean was right, if Cas hadn't come in—dream walked or whatever—it might not have been him who woke up on that table. It might have been Lucifer himself.

Sam shuddered and turned his head away, swallowing hard. Apparently he still wasn't strong enough.

Dean seemed to see his distress though, and he calmed down, squeezing Sam's arm slightly before he ran a hand over his face, wearily. "You scared me, kiddo," he said in a softer voice.

"M'sorry," Sam murmured, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Look," Dean sighed. "I know we got a lot to talk about, but not now. You just…work on getting healed up. You ready for another shot of morphine?"

Sam sighed and lolled his head in a nod. Dean reached over and pressed the button, twice, and Sam felt the rush of welcome fuzziness wash over him.

"Don't worry, after we're sure you're stable, I'll break you out of here."

Sam nodded again, but his eyes were already sliding shut. Though even the morphine couldn't keep away the sense of foreboding he felt.

Dean was right. They had a lot to talk about.

"Alright, easy."

Sam gritted his teeth as Dean maneuvered him into the motel room and toward the closest bed. Sam was already exhausted by the time he collapsed onto it, and groaned as he pressed a hand to his bandaged middle. Yeah, he knew he shouldn't be out of the hospital yet, but they couldn't really stay, not with all the questions the doctors wanted answered, not to mention the fake insurance. Besides, he was kind of glad not to be around strangers, in a place they could ward properly. He was still shaken up from Lucifer's visitations, even though Cas had assured him that with the sigils he had carved into Sam's ribs, the Devil wouldn't be able to find him, unless he specifically told him where he was.

The angel closed the door behind him as he followed them inside with their bags, setting them on the small table, while Dean fussed with Sam's pillows and tucked the blanket over his lap.

"Okay, there we go, you comfy?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam sighed, exhausted already, but there was a heaviness hanging over them, and Sam knew that now that they were in private, Dean was going to broach whatever subject he'd been wanting to this whole time.

Then, came the inevitable inhalation of breath as Dean geared himself up for the conversation. "Sammy, look, I know it's been rough the past couple months, but, I know you know that we can't keep going like this, man. We can't separate from each other like this. I mean, look what happened to you." Dean motioned to Sam's stomach, and the younger man clutched a fist in the blanket, pulling it a little higher.

"I know," he said, jaw clenching. Of course Dean was going to put his foot down again, exert his authority, just like he always did. Because he still didn't trust Sam to make good decisions. And at this point, he was probably right.

Dean sighed as he sat down on the opposite bed. "And for that matter, how the hell did Jerry even know about you? I mean, hunters talk, yeah, but who knew about this besides us and Bobby? And you know Bobby isn't going to tell anyone about stuff like that."

Sam looked down at the ugly pattern on the bed cover. "When um, when I went off on my own, Bobby called these hunters into the town I was staying in to look into apocalypse omens. They got jumped by demons and I…I guess during the fight, one of them spilled about me. One of the hunters got killed and they came after me, tried to make me drink demon blood—use me as a weapon." Sam shuddered and hugged his arms around himself. "I guess they spread the word. Put a hit out on me."

"Dammit, Sam!" Dean cried, running a hand over his face. "Why the hell didn't you mention this before? Especially when I agreed to go on a hunt with someone we hadn't seen in years?"

Cas shot him a cautionary look and moved to join the conversation, sitting on the end of Sam's bed.

"I didn't think it was important," Sam muttered, though knew he should have said something.

"Not important?" Dean demanded. "You almost died, Sam!"

"Yeah, and I broke the world too, so that's probably all that I deserve."

Dean shook his head, making a frustrated sound in his throat. "You know, I don't believe you, sometimes."

Cas furrowed his brow. "Sam you shouldn't say that; of course you don't deserve to die."

"Well, what else am I gonna do than inevitably say yes to Lucifer?" Sam demanded. "And then I'll break the world for good."

"Oh, that's it," Dean growled, getting up to pace before spinning back around to face Sam. "I have had it with you and your defeatist attitude, and the moping emo crap. Are you really gonna take what some asshole like Jerry said to heart?"

"What do you want me to say, Dean?" Sam said, exasperation taking over. "It's not like he was wrong; I really am just a monster."

"No, you're not," Dean replied wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well that's not what you said before," Sam snapped back, beginning to shake as everything was finally coming out, and he was finally confronting his brother about what he'd had pent up inside this whole time. "You're the one who called me a 'blood-sucking freak' first!"

Dean spun around to look at him at the same time Cas turned an accusing look at Dean. "What? What are you talking about?"

Oh, so he was going to play innocent. Sam snorted. "It's okay, you don't have to deny it. I already know what I am."

"Dean," Cas admonished.

But Dean only looked bewildered. "Sam, seriously, what the hell are you talking about? When did I ever say that to you?"

Sam clenched his jaw. "How can you just drop something like that on me and forget about it? You really don't remember? That voicemail you left me? Before I broke open the crypt to kill Lilith?"

Dean was staring at him with a blank expression. Sam glowered and nodded to the bags. "Get my phone."

Dean gave an exasperated look and went to riffle through the bags to grab Sam's cell. He handed it to the younger man and Sam's hand trembled with emotion as he found the voicemail and put it on speaker.

He closed his eyes, unable to look at his brother as the words filled the room.

"Listen to me, you blood-sucking freak, Dad always said I'd either have to save you, or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam, a vampire; you're not you anymore, and there's no going back."

When it had finished, Sam was unable to keep the wetness from his eyes as he finally glared up at Dean. "See? Why bother denying it?"

But Dean just looked horrified, glancing between the phone and his brother. Cas was leaning forward, equally stunned.

"Sammy, I never said that," Dean forced out finally. "I did leave you a message, when the angels nabbed me and had me waiting in the wings for the big fight. But I never said that. How could you even think…?" He turned around, unable to finish his sentence.

"Sam that wasn't Dean," Cas spoke up, eyes suddenly cold. "There's angelic feedback on that message. I can only assume that Zachariah corrupted Dean's original one."

Dean ran his hands through his hair, obviously distressed and upset at what he'd heard. "Sam, I called you to apologize. To talk you down from the edge. Please tell me this didn't—" He couldn't seem to finish the thought, but Sam knew where he was going and he looked down, unable to meet his brother's eyes. Not wanting to admit that Dean was right. The thought that his brother believed he was nothing but a monster, that he didn't believe in him, kind of did make up his decision in the end.

"Oh god, Sammy," Dean breathed. "And you…you had this on your phone the whole time? Why the hell didn't you say anything? Confront me, at least? I've been trying to figure out what's been eating you and you've just been keeping this bottled up!"

"You still said you didn't trust me," Sam said quietly. "So I thought…I just didn't think there was any point."

Dean sighed heavily and sank down on the side of Sam' bed, facing him. "Sam, look, it's been rough, lately, and yeah, the thing with Ruby, that was messed up. But you know that, and I know you know what you did wrong. Maybe…maybe I was projecting my own feeling of betrayal too, onto you, and that wasn't fair. But Sammy," he reached out and gripped one of Sam's wrists tightly, and Sam finally met his brother's eyes. "You know that we're better together. Stronger. And trust does go both ways, man. We'll get back to where we were, eventually, I know we will, but you've gotta let me in too. We certainly can't afford to keep things from each other."

Sam wet his lips and glanced down again for a long moment before he looked back up at his brother. "I know. And I'll try if you will."

Dean offered a soft smile and reached up to squeeze the side of Sam's neck, the comforting gesture giving the younger hunter a little bit of warmth. "We both will. Together." He stood up then. "But right now you need to rest. You need another dose of the good stuff?"

Sam wanted to protest, afraid Lucifer would come back in his drugged stupor, but his wound was a sharp pain emanating from his center, so he gave in, and nodded.

Dean had made sure to take some 'complimentary' morphine before they busted Sam out of the hospital and he went to retrieve it then and drew a syringe. Sam offered his arm resignedly and felt the effects of the drug working on him. He sank back into the pillows and was vaguely aware of Dean pulling the blankets tighter over him.

"Just rest, kiddo," he said, swiping a hand over Sam's forehead almost subconsciously.

Before Sam allowed himself to slip into sleep, his eyes sought out Cas with one pleading look. The angel offered him a look of reassurance and stood to touch Sam's shoulder gently.

"Don't worry, Sam, I won't let him near you on my watch."

"Thanks, Cas," Sam whispered as his eyes slid shut and with that assurance, he allowed himself to sleep.

Sam woke again the next morning, and though he still felt stiff, and slightly loopy from the morphine, he at least remembered where he was and what had happened this time.

"Good morning, Sam."

Sam glanced over to the other bed and saw Cas sitting there as if he had been watching him. He might normally have been a little unnerved with the idea that someone, even someone he knew, had been watching him sleep, but right now he was only relieved. Knowing that Cas was his only guard against Lucifer.

"'Morning," Sam mumbled, glancing around the room. "Where's Dean?"

"He's outside making a call to Bobby," Cas told him and strode over to the table to grab a bottle of water before bringing it back. "I assume you are thirsty."

Sam nodded and allowed Cas to help prop him up slightly so he could drink. His hand shook but he only spilled a little water on his blanket. Cas sat down at his side and reached into his pocket.

"Sam I…I cleaned up the message Dean left for you," the angel said, turning Sam's phone over in his hands. "I thought you might like to hear it."

Sam almost said no, that it didn't really matter now, but something inside his head told him to listen to it. That if he didn't, he was afraid he might always have a little doubt that Dean had left that message after all.

He held out his hand and Cas handed him the phone. Sam pulled up the voicemail and listened:

"Hey, it's, me…uh…look, I'll just get right to it. I'm still pissed and I owe you a serious beatdown, but…I shouldn't have said what I said. You know, I'm not Dad. We're brothers, you know, we're family, and, uh, no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change. Sammy I'm sorr—"

The message cut off before Dean could finish his apology, but Sam didn't need to hear it in full. He already had tears in his eyes. All this time, he'd been pissed at Dean, when he'd missed his apology all together.

"Oh god, I can't believe I…" Sam covered his face with his hands, and felt Cas grip his shoulder tightly.

"Sam, you can't blame yourself. Zachariah manipulated you for his own purposes."

"I know, I know," Sam forced out and turned his wet eyes on the angel. "But Dean, he never really said the things I thought he did. And I…I can't believe I actually fell for that!"

Cas shook his head with a sympathetic look. "Sam, what's done is done. You can't change the past. You can only try to make the future better."

Sam nodded and scrubbed at his eyes. "Yeah. You're right. Cas, thanks for letting me hear that."

The angel smiled and nodded. "You're welcome."

The door to the room opened then to Dean finishing up a conversation with Bobby on the phone as he slipped inside.

"Yeah, we'll be there tonight, gonna take it a little slow—You know I always look after him, Bobby. Alright, see ya soon."

He ended the call and turned around, seeing Sam's eyes opened, and gave a subconscious shrug. "Caught Bobby up on everything. He's pissed at me for letting you get shot."

Sam allowed one side of his mouth turn up in a half smile. "I bet."

Cas stood from the bed. "I'm going to go and add those extra sigils to the car."

"Thanks Cas," Dean said. "Just…not on the paintjob, buddy."

Cas gave him a slightly longsuffering look, before he turned and closed the door behind him.

Dean went over to his bag, open on the bed, and tossed a dirty shirt into it. "We'll leave when you're ready—unless you want another day of bed rest."

Sam shifted slightly in the bed, wincing at his wound pulled, but shook his head. "No, I'd rather get back to Bobby's."

Dean nodded and Sam started to pull his blankets back, attempting to swing his legs over the side of the bed, but Dean put a stop to that quickly enough, and probably for the best, considering that Sam couldn't get halfway there without gasping in pain.

"Whoa, easy there, tiger," Dean chided, hurrying over and gripping Sam's shoulders to steady him. "You're not going anywhere without help. I'm not gonna do those stitches again, now that the hospital put in professional grade ones."

It suddenly dawned on Sam that Dean had taken the bullet out of him in the forest. In all the trauma that came later, he'd almost forgotten. But Dean obviously hadn't. Even his joking tone couldn't hide the haunted look in his eyes.

And it made sense. After what Dean went through in Hell… Sam had seen what torturing Alastair had done to his brother, he couldn't even imagine what this situation had brought up.

"Dean," Sam said quietly, reaching out to grip his brother's sleeve. "I never thanked you for what you did."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked nonchalantly, but he knew, and he didn't meet Sam's eyes.

Sam gave him a sympathetic look. "You know. Look, I'm sure it wasn't easy but…"

"Don't," Dean cut in, but his voice was quiet, a slight waver in it, as he finally turned to meet Sam's gaze again. "Sam, you're my brother. There was no way in hell I was gonna let you die up there. You know I'm always gonna do everything I can to save you."

Sam swallowed hard, his eyes wet for the second time that morning, and he finally nodded. "I know. And…you know I would do the same, right?"

Dean hesitated just a second, looking into Sam's eyes as if to gauge whether he was telling the truth or not, and Sam held his breath, afraid that Dean was just going to go back to not trusting him, despite their conversation the night before. But he smiled genuinely instead. "Yeah, I know, Sammy. I know you always got my back."

"Well, someone has to," Sam said with a soft snort. "Because in case you hadn't noticed, you can be kinda reckless."

"Who's the one who got shot again?" Dean demanded.

"And who's the one who saved your ass from that wendigo? With a hole in my gut?"

"Okay, Rambo, I'll remember that for next time. You're more than welcome to go on a hunt solo and I'll just sit back and relax."

"Oh, so business as usual then?" Sam snarked, cocking one eyebrow.

Dean huffed a laugh, and shook his head. "Bitch."

They both caught their breath at the familiar nickname. Sam couldn't even remember the last time Dean had called him that. He felt his brother's eyes on him, and for a split second he looked like he was worried he had done something wrong. But Sam just smirked. "Jerk."

Dean's shoulders slumped and he let a breath out. One that sounded like he had been holding in for a lot longer than just those few seconds.

The door to the room opened then and Cas walked back in, breaking up the moment.

"I added extra warding to the car. It should keep it off the radar of angels and demons alike," he said.

"Great, let's get going then," Dean said.

Cas turned to Sam with a smile. "You look better, Sam," the angel said sincerely.

Sam offered him a small smile. "I feel better," he said and realized it was true. He glanced at his brother, and for the first time in a long time, he actually thought that they might be able to get back to what they once were. Back before everything had gotten so complicated and they were just brothers.

"I'll load the bags if you have Sam," Cas said and went to pick up the packed bags from the table.

Dean nodded and went back to the bed to help Sam up. Sam grunted, and pressed a hand to his wound, but Dean took most of his weight, and steadied him.

"Hey, Sam," Dean said as they waited for Sam to adjust to being upright. "Don't stop back-talking me again, okay?"

Sam frowned, but was unable to help a small smirk. "Wow, you really just put your foot in your mouth with that one."

"I'm serious," Dean replied. "I miss your snarky little know-it-all attitude. The snappy come backs, the eyerolls. Even the bitchfaces."

"The what?" Sam demanded.

"Everything you haven't been doing for the last couple weeks," Dean told him. "I need your help to get through this, and I can't have someone who's just gonna sit there and mope when I try to bounce ideas off of them. I need you there to argue with me when I'm gonna do something stupid, and especially to help with the research."

Sam rolled his eyes—that should make Dean happy—but he did kinda get where his brother was coming from. And frankly, he would be glad to go back to his old self. Now that he knew he didn't have to tiptoe around Dean—and the fact that he'd ever thought that he did was really ridiculous—he was sure everything would go more smoothly too.

"Promise?" Dean demanded.

"Yes, Dean, I promise," Sam told him. "But it's you who's gonna regret it."

Dean chuckled. "Probably, but what the hell, you're my little brother, it's your job to be a pain in my ass."

Sam smiled too, as Dean tightened his arm around him to maneuver him out the door.

"Hey," he said sincerely. "We're gonna get through this. We're gonna stop the whole damn thing, ice the devil, put the world back the way it should be. And no one's gonna dictate who we are, or what our destiny is. Only we can do that."

Sam nodded. He still wasn't sure how easy it would be to beat destiny, but for the first time, he was willing to believe that they could, as long as they kept faith in themselves.

They made it out to the Impala where Cas was waiting, and Dean maneuvered Sam into the back seat, which he'd apparently set up with extra pillows and blankets they had stolen from the motel room. Sam didn't even say anything though, because it was pretty damn comfortable and it was a long drive to Sioux Falls. He was already pretty exhausted just from walking out to the car too. It was going to be a while before he got back into the fight.

"Alright, let's get," Dean said and strode around to the driver's seat after making sure Sam was settled. Cas got in the passenger side as Dean put the keys into the ignition.

Sam closed his eyes as the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine filled his ears and became a comforting lullaby for him to fall asleep to.

No matter what was on the horizon for them, Sam knew in that moment that, as long as they faced it together, they had a good chance of winning.