Last chapter! The response to this story has been wonderful, thank you so much! I've had a great time writing and publishing this. You'll hear from me soon.

The title and lyrics are by Within Temptation. I don't own anything from Supernatural or the song.

Utopia

I'm dreaming in colours, no boundaries are there.

Dreaming the dream we all seem to share

In search of the door to hope in your mind.

In search of the cure of mankind.

Help us we're drowning, so closed up inside.

Why does it rain down on Utopia?

Why does it have to kill the idea of who we are?

Within Temptation

Dean was sitting on the damp ground beside Sam's body. He had no idea what had happened. He was certain he had heard his brother's voice. But now it was all gone. The air felt lighter around him, the stars shining brightly over his head. The graveyard was silent and peaceful.

He looked down at his brother's body.

There was nothing left to say to him.

Nothing left.

All tears were spent. All there was now was a emptiness. A dark pit where Sam used to be.

Dean flicked on his lighter.

"Goodbye, Sam." He paused for a second, the flame reflected in his eyes. He'd set plenty of things on fire in his life, but it had never been harder than this. He knew this moment would haunt him in his dreams for a long time. "Goodbye," he whispered again and lowered his hand to the empty shell in front of him.

A small gasp startled him. For a second, he didn't know where it had come from. Then, Sam moved.

He moved!
Dean flung his lighter away and started ripping at the thick layers of cloth covering his brother's face. He could hear Sam gasping for air.

"Hold on, Sammy."

He ripped the linen away and looked into his brother's panicked eyes. Living eyes.

"I've got you."

He pulled out his knife and sliced through the rest of the fabric.

"Dean?" The voice was tiny, uncertain, but it was there.

"Don't worry, Sam. It's okay."

He tore the last layers of cloth away and pulled his brother into a tight hug.

"I've got you."

Sam pulled the old blanket a little tighter around is shoulders and shivered. He was sitting in the front seat of the Impala with engine running and the heat up as far as it would go. He was still cold. Apparently being dead does that to you. He shivered again.

Dead.

He had actually been dead. Again. And now he was back.

He shifted a little in the leather seat. Back from the dead was never a good thing. Though this time he really didn't know how it had happened. He didn't even remember the spirit that had made him take his own life. The only reminder of that was the ugly mark on the side of his head. And the headache. He closed his eyes and leaned back. Something had happened. He knew it. Something had brought him back. There were really not that many things able to do that.

Dean swore he had nothing to do with it. No deal, no demons. He had been ready to let go. But somehow, Sam was back. It all felt horribly wrong.

Dean was outside, talking on his phone. Brief snatches of conversation drifted into the car.

"… I don't know, Bobby."

"… don't look at me, I didn't do anything."

"…doesn't remember…"

"…possible, but…"

Sam buried his ears in the blanket. Right now he didn't even want to think about it. Thinking hurt too much. Besides, there was really only one… thing that could have brought him back.

Lucifer.

Yep… definitely not thinking about that one.

Dean put his phone in his pocket. He could still call Castiel, see what he knew. But not right now. Sam was sitting in the car, looking pale and tired.
Alive.

That was all that mattered. As far as he could tell nobody had made a deal for his brother. There were only a few people who knew he was dead and they all knew better than that. Sam didn't remember anything. He just… woke up.

Dean got into the car and closed the door. Sam looked down at his knees, lost in thought. Dean cleared his throat. "Man, are you going to have a cool scar."

Sam smiled faintly. "I have a dent in my head, Dean."

"It's better than a bullet hole."

Sam closed his eyes. "This is wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"I was dead. I should have…"

Dean put a hand on his arm. "Don't talk like that. You're back now, that's all that matters." Even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. People didn't just wake up after being dead. There had to be something behind it. And whatever it was, it was powerful.

Sam didn't say anything. He just stared at his knees, the blanket pulled tightly around his shoulders.

"How's your head?" The scar really looked awful. It was a good thing Sam's hair was so long.

"Sore," Sam looked up. "Do you think it was Lucifer?"

Now it was Dean's turn to look away. "It's possible."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Dean looked out of the windshield. The graveyard was dark and empty. The moon cast long shadows onto the road. It looked strangely peaceful. No sign anything had ever happened.

"Hey Sam?" he said softly. "We'll figure this out. I'll call Cas in the morning, see if he knows anything. Just don't worry alright?"

Sam nodded faintly, his eyes once again fixed on his knees.

Dean pulled the car onto the road. "Let's get you to a motel. You look like death warmed over."

Sam smiled. "Probably because I am."

"Get some sleep, Sam. I'll wake you when we get to the motel."

Sam leaned his head against the window. Dean looked at him from the corner of his eye. No matter what had happened, it was damn good to have his brother back.

He didn't notice the Reaper standing in the shadow of the trees, staring after the black car as it vanished into the night.

End