Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

A special thanks to AlElizabeth for beta'ing my story.

A/N: I know it has been a long time in the making, but I have finally finished this story. I want to thank everyone that has supported me throughout this journey. Thank you so much for your support. I hope you enjoy the ending.

Chapter 14: Trying to Start Over

It has been three months now since Bobby forced John to talk with his sons. Not that it went well. John walked into the house and sat like a bump on a log, not saying anything. Nothing was resolved. They said nothing. The uncomfortable silence became too much for Sam, and he rushed out of the room with Dean following behind him.

There was an awkward silence around the house since that day. Now Sam figured he was ready. The sun was just coming over the horizon when Dean found Sam packing his bags.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dean asked, walking over to his bed, sitting down.

"Dean," Sam said, facing Dean from where he was standing. "I can't stay out of school for long. I'll lose my scholarship."

"I told you I talked with your counselor. They said that you could take as long as you need."

"And I appreciate that," Sam said, stuffing another shirt into his bag. "But sitting around here, doing nothing…"

Dean got up from his bed and walked over to where Sam was now pulling his things off of the dresser.

"You know," Dean said after Sam put everything from the dresser into his duffel, "We didn't come here with a lot of stuff."

Sam looked over at Dean, his brow furrowed.

"What are you talking about?"

"Bobby will let us come back," Dean said, pulling out an old bottle of aftershave that had been sitting on top of the dresser since Dean was seventeen.

Taking a glance into Sam's bag, he saw that not only was he packing his own things, but he was packing Dean's as well.

"Sammy," Dean said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Sam said a little too fast for his brother's liking.

"Sammy," Dean said, again. "Why are you packing?"

"I want to go back to school," Sam said, almost pleadingly. "I never got to finish that paper. It was due."

"Sam,"Dean's voice was a little for forceful. "Stop."

Sam's hands froze on an old shirt that they hadn't used in five or six years. Dean walked over to Sam, who was now standing by the closet, pulling random clothes out. Dean had to marvel at the fact that even now, when he would give an order, Sam followed. But he couldn't think about that now. Something was bothering Sam, and he knew he needed to try and fix it.

"Why are you packing things that we usually leave here?" Dean asked, pulling the shirt out of Sam's hand.

Whatever energy was in Sam moments before seemed to deflate from him when Dean took the shirt.

"Did something happen that I need to know about?" Dean asked.

"No," Sam sighed, walking over to his bed and sitting down.

"Something had to have happened if you are packing everything that we've ever left here. Your duffel is going to be heavy to carry at the rate you're going."

"I – I can't stay here," Sam finally said after a long moment of silence. "I need to do something. Hunting is out of the questions because I'm a liability."

"What? Who said you're a liability?"

Sam lowered his head. No one really said that in those words, but he could tell by the way Bobby looked at him and the fact that their dad hadn't said two words to him since the garage. He knew his dad probably didn't trust him anymore. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to start thinking of him like that, so he figured he should just cut and run now before things got too bad.

"Sammy, who said you were a liability?" Dean asked again, walking over to Sam and standing in front of him.

"WHO?" Dean yelled, cupping his brother's chin and bringing it up so that Sam could look him in the eye. "Was it Dad? Did he say that to you?"

"Dean … I … no," Sam stuttered.

Dean let go of Sam and rushed out of the room. At the first floor, John walked into the house. Bobby was in the living room, looking through some old tomes.

"Bobby," John called out.

"In here."

Dean, standing at the edge of the stairs could feel nothing but rage. Who would even hint at the insinuations that Sam was a liability? Who gave them that right? They have been in this house for the past three months, so it would only be someone within this house that would tell Sam that. And once again, Sam was too afraid to say to him that someone was doing this to him. Well, this ends here.

Dean rushed down the stairs.

_0000_0000_0000

"Did you find anything more?" John asked, shrugging his shoulders out of his jacket. "There was nothing I could find in the library."

"I found a few things," Bobby said, pulling one of the discarded tomes on the edge of his desk towards him. "It gives a history of how these things came about, but not much on how to kill it."

John sighed as he sat down in the chair across from Bobby's desk.

"Well, any information is better than none."

Bobby shrugged, pushing the tome towards John. John reached out but never touched it. A fist came from above, hitting John in the jaw, causing the man to fall out of the chair and sprawled out on the floor.

"DEAN!" Bobby exclaimed, getting up from his seat.

Dean wasn't listening. He was gearing up for another assault when he felt hands on his shoulders pulling him back.

"What the hell's gotten into you, boy?" Bobby yelled, struggling to pull Dean back.

"What the hell?" John slurred, trying to sit up on the floor.

"What gave you the right?" Dean screamed. "A liability? Really? Who are you to tell anyone that?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" John asked, finally getting to his feet, his jaw stinging from the punch.

"Dean, calm down," Bobby yelled, getting a very irate Winchester under control. Standing in between the two older Winchesters, looking at Dean. "What has gotten you so riled up?"

"He told Sam that he was a liability," Dean accused, pointing at his father.

Bobby looked at John, shocked. John looked just as shocked.

"You told Sam he was a liability?" Bobby asked.

"I haven't talked to Sam," John said.

"You're always accusing him of something," Dean said, stepping forward trying to get to his father, but Bobby stopping him. "Something is always his fault."

"Dean, calm down," Bobby said, pushing Dean back. Turning back to John, "You haven't talked to Sam. At all?"

John looked from his oldest son to his friend and shook his head.

"What am I suppose to say to him?"

"How about he's not a liability," Dean fumed.

"I never said that," John yelled.

"Why haven't you talked to your son?" Bobby asked. His voice low, but John could hear the anger underneath.

"What was I supposed to say? Ask him about the gory detail? I don't want to know. I don't want to know what they did to my baby. I don't want to know why he let this happen."

"Let this happen. Let this happen," Dean looked up at his father. "You think that Sam wanted this? You have no idea what happened. You have no idea the nightmares that he suffered. The panic attacks that he had to endure. The medications he had to take. The scares of what he could have contracted because they did not use protection. The idea that it was just fun. Boys being boys was what their father said. And you have the gall to stand there and wonder why did he let this happen? You're all set to blame someone. Why don't you blame the one that truly is at fault?"

"What are you talking about?" Bobby asked.

"All this. Everything that Sammy's gone through. Everything is because of me."

"No, Dean," Bobby said.

"Yes," Dean said. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't left him alone, he wouldn't have felt the need to go out. If I had driven him to the movies that night, none of this would have happened. If I just spent the time with Sammy in the first place, none of this would have happened."

"No, Dean," Bobby said again.

"So," Dean said, looking John in the eyes. "If you're going to blame anybody for what happened to Sammy, then it stops at my feet, not his. I failed him. I didn't protect him. Not that night. But I will say this. I will protect him now. Even if it is from you. You will not make Sammy feel any less than what he should. Now you want to get angry at somebody about what happened, get angry at me. Blame me. But you will leave Sammy out of it."

Dean turned and walked out of the room leaving two hunters in stunned silence. Walking towards the stairs, looking up, he saw Sammy standing at the landing. Dean wasted no time climbing the stairs. He could see the tears in his baby brother's eyes. Not wanting to dwell on what was said in the living room, Dean walked past his brother and into their bedroom where he finished what Sam started. Not packing everything, just a few essentials, Dean grabbed his and Sam's jacket and walked out of the room. As if Dean had a magnet drawing Sam closer, Sam followed his big brother out of the room and out of the house. Neither one said anything to their dad and uncle or each other. Once in the car, Dean started her up and pulled Baby out of the driveway.

_0000_0000_0000_0000

Bobby was the first to recover his voice after Dean left. He turned and faced the elder Winchester.

"You never talked to your sons?" Bobby growled.

"You wouldn't understand," John sighed, walking towards the kitchen, heading for the fridge.

"What wouldn't I understand," Bobby said, following John. "I told you to talk to them."

"I can't," John confessed, turning to face him. "You just saw how well talking did."

"How about not accusing them?" Bobby said.

"I don't need to hear this from you, too," John said, turning and grabbing a beer out of the fridge. He placed the cold can against his jaw to try and soothe the ache his son put there.

"When are you going to get it into that thick skull of yours that this was none of their faults. This was a horrendous act that was done to Sam. The only fault is to those boys that attacked and raped Sam. NOT SAM! This was not Dean's fault. You need to see that."

_0000_000_000_0000

Things were slowly getting back to normal. Sam was finishing up his second year. Dean permanently moved in with Sam. When they left Bobby's the previous year, Dean refused to put Sam through the torment of feeling inadequate. They had spoken with Bobby a few times. Bobby's even came by and visit for a couple of days, but they haven't heard from their father, and Dean wasn't looking.

Dean did odd jobs around the campus. He was a regular fixture around. Everyone knew that if they saw Sam walking, he may appear alone, but in fact, Dean was close by. No one challenged that point. There was an understanding with the faculty and the Winchesters, mostly Dean. Dean did not interfere with classes if he were to sit in on any of them. If Sam had one of his panic attacks, which were coming few and far between, he would subtly remove his brother from the class to deal with him in private. Dean was quite surprised about how the Dean of the school was taking his presence, but forever grateful.

It was a quiet night. Both brothers were in their apartment. Dean was watching television and Sam was in the kitchen working on his homework. Many would think that the blaring of the TV would be a distraction for Sam, but it was the opposite. Growing up, sharing one hotel room, Dean would, on many nights, watch a cop show or western while Sam was doing his homework. It was a calming white noise for Sam. For some reason, he could concentrate better, but it was only with Dean.

A knock on the door brought both boys out of their thoughts. Dean got up, waving his hand towards Sam to continue his homework, went to the door.

"Don't stop. I got it." Sam smirked and looked back down at the paper in front of him. What was said next made Sam's heart drop into his stomach and panic rise in his belly.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I just came to talk."

Sam's head shot up when he heard the voice. The last person he ever wanted to talk to was this one.

"May I come in?"

"No."

"I understand. Is Sam here?"

"What do you want, Jessica," Dean growled.

"I just wanted to apologize," she said, hazarding a step closer. Dean matched her action until he couldn't see Sam's panicked reaction because of the door. He did not want Sam to even see this girl.

"A little too late, don't you think. Leave now!"

"Please, Dean."

"Look, it is taking everything within me not to kill you right now. I suggest you take advantage of that and leave. Don't come back."

Biting her lips, she nodded. Without saying another word, Jessica walked down the hallway towards the steps. Dean didn't come back into the apartment until he didn't see her any longer. Knowing he would probably have to deal with a panicked Sam, Dean took a deep breath, readying himself to what he would face.

Dean walked into their apartment and sighed. Sam wasn't sitting at the table. He knew that his brother didn't leave the apartment. Walking towards the back room, he heard it. Sam was in the bathroom, retching.

Knocking on the door, Dean called out, "Sammy. I'm coming in."

Dean walked into the small bathroom and saw Sam leaning against the tub. His knees pulled up to his chest, trying to make himself smaller in the cramped space, which was a feat in itself since Sam was taller than Dean.

"Hey buddy," Dean soothed, walking closer towards Sam. "You feeling better?"

Dean saw Sam's mouth moving but couldn't hear the words coming from him. He squeezed himself between Sam and the wall sitting on the edge of the tub.

"Talk to me, Sammy."

"Why? Why?" Sam whispered over and over.

"She's gone," Dean reassured. "She won't be coming back around here again."

"Why can't they just leave me alone?"

"I don't know," Dean mumbled. He felt Sam start to lean more on his leg and as much as he didn't mind the weight of his brother, being squeezed between the wall and the Sasquatch while sitting on an uncomfortable edge was not his idea of ease.

"Come on, Sasquatch," Dean jibed. "Let's get you cleaned up and will try to get something in your stomach."

"Oh no, Dean, I don't think I could eat anything."

"It'll be something light. But I don't want you going to sleep like this. You know how you'll feel in the morning if you do. Come on."

Sam allowed Dean to help him to stand. Sam went to the sink and washed out his mouth. Following Dean, Sam went to the kitchen and sat down, his homework forgotten. As promised, Dean gave him something light and then helped him to bed. Dean figured after that minor scare an early bedtime for both of them was in order.

The next morning, Dean was surprised that he wasn't awakened by Sam having nightmares. Dean woke up before Sam and went to check on his brother. Sam was still curled up in the same position he was when he fell asleep the night before. Dean couldn't help the smile on his face, looking at his brother. No nightmares. Maybe things were looking up.

"Come on, Sunshine," Dean called out. "Rise and shine. It's a new day."

"Ugh, D'n," Sam mumbled into the pillow. "Go away."

Yeah, things were looking up, Dean thought.

"No can do," Dean said, pulling on Sam's covers. "You got a big day today."

"What? Dean go away!" Sam said when Dean was successful in getting the covers off.

"Time to get up," Dean said, smiling.

"Don't want to."

"Too bad. You're going to class."

"Go away."

Dean chuckled, "Five minutes, and then I'm coming back with a cup of ice water."

"I hate you!"

"I know you do," Dean laughed, turning and walking out of the room.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Sam heard it and thought not again. Sighing, Sam got up and went to see who was in their apartment. Sam's jaw dropped when he saw who was sitting at the kitchen table.

"Why are you here? How did you get in?"

"Come on, Dean, who do you think taught you how to pick a lock?"

"What do you want, dad?"

"I've come to talk," John said.

"I think you've said everything that you needed to," Dean fumed. "You can leave."

"Not until I've had my say," John said, leaning back in his chair. "Sit, both of you."

When neither one made a move toward the chairs, John repeated it with more force. "I said sit."

Never being one to disobey a direct order, Dean walked over to the table and sat down. Sam, always following his big brother's lead, sat down next to his brother.

"Dean, I need you to pack your things."

"What?"

"No. I'm not leaving him."

John held up his hand to stop his son's speaking.

"I'm not giving you a choice. There is a werewolf pack that needs to be taken down, and I need all available hands. Caleb, Bobby, and Jim are already there. Will is meeting us there in the morning. I've come to get you."

"What about Sam?" Dean growled

"What about Sam?"

"I'm not leaving him alone. Not again."

"Sam can take care of himself," John sighed.

"Well, then Sam can come with us," Dean demanded.

"No," John deadpanned.

"No? Why the hell not?"

"He has classes," John said matter of factly. "I'm not going to pull Sam out of school for this."

"So you still see him as a liability?" Dean accused.

"I never said that," John said, adamantly. Reaching across the table and grabbing his youngest son's hand, using the other hand to lift Sam's head so that he was looking at him. "I never once said that. Nor do I believe that."

"Why are you taking him away?" Sam spoke for the first time.

John closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, letting go of his son's face, sitting back in his chair. He opened his eyes and looked at his sons.

"I'm not taking Dean away. I just need the extra hands for this hunt."

"He can come back?" Sam asked.

It broke John's heart how small his youngest son was sounding.

"Yes," John nodded. "I will not separate you two. I promise."

Sam looked over at his brother. Dean was eyeing their father, wondering if he could actually trust him. Sam knew that deep down Dean didn't like being stuck in one place. Even if he didn't say anything about it.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said. "Go."

"Sam, no."

"I'll be fine. And it's only for a couple of days. I'll call."

"Sam."

"Please, Dean. It's alright. I'll be fine. You're coming back afterward, right?"

"You couldn't stop me," Dean said.

"Then it's fine."

"I'll wait for you downstairs," John said, getting up from the table and leaving before either son could reply.

"You sure?" Dean asked, one more time.

"It's fine, Dean. I promise. Maybe I can get to watch what I want to while you're gone."

"Yeah, whatever," Dean said getting up. "I'll leave it stuck on the westerns channel and take the remote."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

_00000_0000_0000

Twenty minutes later, Dean walked towards the Impala and put his duffel in the trunk.

"Dean."

Dean turned and saw his dad standing behind him.

"Yeah, Dad," he said, closing the trunk.

"I never blamed you."

"What?"

"What happened to Sam was not your fault."

"I don't have time for this. Where are we going?" Dean dismissed.

"Don't do that," John ordered. "We're going to have this out."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't want you to say anything," John said, walking closer to his son. "I want you to listen. I have put a lot on you. I know I have. Things that a small child should not have to have on his shoulders. You were only four when you started taking care of Sam. I've sat back and watched you be a father to that boy when I knew it was my responsibility to be the father to both of you."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"I want you to know that I am proud of you. You've taken care of Sammy. He's grown up to be a wonderful young man, and that is thanks to you and no one else. What happened to Sam was a tragedy. What happened to Sam was not your fault. It probably would have happened if you were with him or not."

Dean's throat burned listening to his father. No, he won't believe it. It was his fault. Take care of Sammy was drilled into him. He didn't do it. How could his father be proud of him when he failed. He failed. Sam got hurt.

"Dean." John pulled his oldest out of his musing. "Sam getting raped was a horrible tragedy, but it wasn't your fault. I do not blame you for what happened to Sam, and I know Sam doesn't blame you for what happened."

The first tear escaped Dean's eyes. John came closer and embraced his son.

"It's time to let go of the guilt. Sam is fine. He will always have you to look out for him. Be there for him. Let that guilt go." Dean nodded against his father's shoulder. "Come on, we need to go." Dean nodded.

Dean stepped back a quickly wiped his face of the tears that were on his face. John gave him a moment to compose himself before letting him know the location of where they were meeting the others. Dean got in his Baby and drove off, leaving John standing at the door. John wanted to go, but he was waiting for his youngest. He didn't have to wait long as Sam emerged from the doors to his apartment building twenty minutes later.

"Dad, what are you still doing here? I thought you left with Dean."

"I'm leaving," John said. "But I wanted to see you before I left."

"Okay."

"There was something that I wanted you to understand."

"What's that, Dad?"

"I should have told you this sooner. I was wrong in letting you believe it. Never once did I think you were a liability."

"I know, dad."

"Do you really? Because I don't think you do. I don't think you believe it. My actions have made you believe things that are not true. There are a lot of things that I know I will have to work on with you, but one thing I want to get straight before I leave today is for you to believe me when I say you are not a liability. Do you understand why I didn't ask you to come with us?"

Sam nodded.

"Verbal answer, son," John smirked.

"Yes, sir."

"Why? Tell me."

"School?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" John asked.

"Telling, sir."

"Very good," John said, nodding. "I am so proud of you, Sam. I know I don't tell you or your brother that often, and for that I'm sorry, but I am very proud of you. You got a full ride into Stanford. You are making something of yourself. I am proud of you."

Sam's jaw worked up and down like a fish out of water, but no sounds were coming out. He was utterly stunned at what his father was saying.

"I am going to make you a promise, Sammy. I will never, ever make you choose. I was wrong in doing that. It will never happen again."

"Thanks, dad," Sam said, smiling. John realized this was the first time in a while he'd seen his son smile. "Look, dad, I hate to cut this short, but I have to go. And by the sounds of it so do you."

John's brow furrowed wondering what his son was talking about when he heard it. It amazed him to no end how his sons were so in tuned with each other. A very familiar V8 engine was coming down the street. The black Impala stopped in front of them. Dean slid over the front seat to lower the window.

"Hey, dad, what's keeping you?"

"I'm leaving now," John said, walking towards his truck.

"You're going to be late," Dean yelled, sliding over back behind the steering wheel. "Hop in."

John climbed into his truck and saw Sam getting into the Impala. The car drove off towards the group of buildings where he knew one of those buildings was Sam's class. This was the best John's felt in a long time. He had his sons, and they were together. They were growing up to become fine men. What more could he ask for.

John pulled out of the parking lot and followed his son's until Dean let Sam out. Sam headed to class, and the two Chevy's drove out of the school complex.

THE END

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. Please leave a review letting me know what you think of it.

Many kisses and hugs to you all.

Mandancie