Part 4.

Above him there is light. His mother appears from it. She comes from the nothingness of the blue, cold light. Dean thinks it's probably a warning, probably means she's not real. But who cares? Certainly not him.

She leans over him, her hand runs through his hair, he feels the ice crack and bend with her movement. From his hair down to his cheek her hand soothes. Dean jumps at the coldness of her skin. Her eyes are a vibrant blue, glistening with their iciness. He sighs watching her lovingly, though knowing this probably isn't his mom, or that she's already gone and something else is just using her body or form.

He's cold too, shivers wracking him mercilessly. He sits and looks around for some sort of warmth, a blanket...his jacket would be nice. All around is white and bare, Mary stares out a window across the room from him.

He looks down to find himself in blue cloth pants and a thin white t-shirt, jeez, no wonder he was freezing. His hands are smooth and perfect, like a baby's, the thought occurs to him that he's dead. Fingers run over his skin under his t-shirt. Smooth and perfect not one scar...cold as ice.

He sighs, eyes shut in something like mixed regret and relief.

It was over.

Sadness floods over him as he glances over his shoulder at the rest of the room. Empty. No Sammy. (Sometimes he envisions that they will end together, die beside each other, blood mingling together on the ground beneath them as they smile at the next eternity.)

"Mom." He says quietly, this whole place is just hushed, he doesn't want to break the peacefulness.

She turns towards him a small smile on her face.

"Why are you here, Mom?" He asks, a little confused. Mary shouldn't be dead.

Her face goes sad and dark in contrast to the room and the bright whiteness. She turns to the window looking out. Dean steps up to her back and looks over her shoulder, breath stopping in his throat.

Out the window there is a large expanse of snow covered wasteland. Faraway, though clear enough to see there is a glow of warmth. The picture of home springs up out of the middle of no where, looks so warm. It's Dean and Sam standing in the library...it's Mary saying she's leaving them.

"Because I left." Mary whispers, her voice breaking. Dean looks down to her, tears slide down her ice chiseled cheeks, "I left you."

The room echoes with her words and Dean covers his ears at the loudness of it. When he looks up she's gone.

"Mom?" He calls.

Silence answers him, he looks back to the window and gasps. The picture has changed, it's Sam sitting on the floor in the library all alone. A silent tear cascading down his cheek. Dean knows Sam hates to be left alone, knows he hates for Dean to be alone.

The picture fades and forms into Mary's room. Dean watches is disbelief as Sam leans over his still, cold body and places his large, warm hands over his chest, fights to force the coldness back.

"Sammy." He whispers brokenly. He left him. Sam's alone and scared and Dean just left him...

Warmth spreads through his body starting at his chest, and Dean knows its his brother. He brings his own still shivering hand up to the glass of the window, spreads out his fingers and presses his palm to the pane. He can feel Sam calling to him, can feel Sam sending him warmth and a sense of safety and security.

Around him the room begins to shake, the sheet rock crumbling and starting to fall down a round him. Dean ignores it, gritting his teeth and trying to focus on Sam as much as he can, is trying to use that link between the two of them to drag himself back. As the walls begin to fall around him and the glass shatters underneath his hand the picture out in the snowy wasteland flies towards him, energy like bright blue northern lights clinging to its edges and surrounding Dean as he squeezing his eyes shut and braces himself for the impact.

He doesn't even feel it. What he does feel is warmth suddenly reaching out to him and surrounding him...he opens his eyes and is looking into the warmest hazel-brown eyes he's ever seen, that he ever will see...that's he's seen nearly everyday for his whole life. Brown shaggy hair is hanging around that beloved face and Dean smiles.

Sam.

...

Sam's hands were hot against his brother. He was almost scared he was burning his skin. The energy in the room heightened and Moriarty appeared in front of them. His hands were in front of him like he was going to throw Sam from Dean but he was frozen in his pose, unable to move, unable to touch them.

Unable to take anyone from anybody.

Sam looks up to the spirit and gives a small triumphant smile, "I know my brother better than anyone, and I know he would never leave me."

Moriarty screams as the cold, blue energy surrounds him and he shatters into a thousand pieces of blue ice which then dissolve in the air around Dean and Sam.

Sam lets out a breath and then looks back to his brother, waiting for something...anything. It had to have worked, especially since Moriarty was officially ended now. Please Dean, please come back. The panic rising in him at the thought of being truly, wholly alone is crippling.

Dean's body arches off the floor with his first breath. Sam's heart nearly leaps from his chest. He slides a hand under his brother and pulls him partly upright. Eyelashes quiver on his freckled, white cheeks and then joy of joys, thank you thank you thank you, eyelids lift and showcase bright sparkling green eyes that Sam thought he'd never see again.

Dean fixates on his face and Sam knows he's watching the tears run down his cheeks. All he can feel is the warmth seeping back into his brother's body, the shivers that whisper to him of his brother's body fighting to live.

Just for a few moments, he tells himself as he buries his face in Dean's shoulder and celebrates the life in his arms before they get Dean warming up. He finds it so grounding, knows it probably is helping Dean come back fully. They find sanity through each other in their insane lives, this is their safe place. They are each other's safe places, this is their way of coping. A few moments definitely won't hurt either of them.

...

Dean hisses when he steps under the hot water in his shower. The warmth tingles on his cold skin to the point of painful but soon the stinging stops and he's just left covered in warmth. Finally. He can hear Sam in the next room, probably hoarding blankets onto his bed and bringing in hot steaming tea.

Dean thinks whiskey is a much easier warmer upper but Sam of course would disagree. And Sammy gets whatever he wants. He uses an old worn rag to scrub this terrible day off his skin, it's soft but still even that little friction hurts his skin. Sam could probably tell him all the scientific reasons if he was here.

He washes the suds from his hair and stands under the spray for a few moments, letting the steam rise and fill his sinuses, the thick air working as a sedative. He's so sleepy the cold...dying having zapped his strength. Their mom leaving them is now merely in the back of his mind but it's still as added constant ache.

He turns off the water, pats his face dry with the towel Sam left him. He chuckles at the pile of clothes that his little brother left too. His thickest pair of joggers, a pair of wool socks. A t-shirt and Henley to go over it, and an old soft pullover the boys swap over and over again because it's comfortable as all git out. Dean pulls on all the layers, his brother knowing him perfectly, not giving him too many clothes, but just as many as Dean could stand. (Dean would have put on all the clothes in the bunker for Sam.)

He begins to generate warmth as soon as he's bundled up. He's still shivering, his teeth still chattering a bit, but the thought of his bed on the other side of the bathroom door motivates him. He brushes his teeth and uses mouthwash before running fingers through his wet spikes and opening the door.

As predicted there are about six blankets laying at the foot of his bed. His sheets pulled back invitingly and pillows arranged for him. Also as predicted there's a steaming cup of what looks like apple cider on his bedside table sitting on a coaster, because Sam has learned Dean's paranoid like that.

Dean makes a swan dive for his bed. He lands with a soft humph burrowing his head into his pillows and sheets for warmth. He is laying still waiting for the material to heat up and keep the warmth around him when he feels layers being added to his nest.

The weight of quilts being laid of top of him is safe and comforting. He lifts his head from the pillows to catch sight of his giant sibling unfolding blankets and laying them on Dean lined up perfectly. (Something else Sam has learned, Dean is somewhat of a perfectionist.)

Dean groans appreciatively stretching his feet down into the blankets so those sheets will get warm too. Sam shoots him a grin as he lays the last blanket on top of Dean's cocoon.

"I think you should be good now." He says, surveying his work.

"Dude, this is awesome!" Dean answers, beaming as he lets himself relax, already growing sleepier than ever. "I could kiss you right now."

Sam laughs, "Shut up and drink your apple cider."

"Too tired," Dean says muffled into his blankets.

"It'll warm you up," Sam tries.

"If I have to move then no, absolutely not."

Sam just rolls his eyes, he sits down on the edge of the bed by Dean's hip and takes the cup, sipping on it as Dean blinks sleepily up at him.

"You okay?" The big brother asks.

Sam nods. "Yeah, you're okay, so yeah I'm okay." He wraps his long fingers around the mug warming them, still shivering a little himself.

Dean is quiet for a moment, drowning in the depth and truth of that statement.

"How do you think she did it?" He asks in a whisper just a few moments later.

"Left?" Sam asks, not looking up from the liquid in his cup.

Dean nods.

Sam shrugs, "She ran before and she found dad, you know? She got us." He shakes his head finally looking at his brother. "The bravest thing she ever did was run Dean, maybe that's all she knows to do."

Dean looks away, he sleepy mind sympathizing with the woman who left them...she was right, she didn't know them. She didn't know what she was running from, she didn't know what she was missing out on.

He smiles softly, "We wouldn't know anything about that."

"No, we wouldn't," Sam laughs, looking down at him, eyes soft and bright. Dean knows that look.

"Not going anywhere Sammy." He whispers. "You might have to drag me home after a five day bender, hell, you might have to balance me out when I get too trigger happy cuz I'm mad...but I'm never leaving you Sammy, never."

"I know," Sam says, a catch in his voice even though it's hardly a whisper. "Me too."

Dean grins at him and kicks him from under the covers, "Now get in here, I know you're about to freeze your ass off."

Sam should have known Dean would have seen his shivers and trembling lips from trying to stop chattering teeth. He jumps over Dean and slips into the other side of the bed.

"Just for a minute," he breathes out with relief as he enters the warmth. "I'm still all gross."

Dean just grunts.

Sam lays awake for a few moments in the silence, he's not even sure Dean's still awake but he asks anyways, "Why did you run? Early in the library, why did you run from me?"

He's surprised when Dean's green eyes come into view as he blinks sleepily, "D'nt wanna hurt you." He sighs out.

Sam just shakes his head in disbelief, "You know we're safer together, stronger together?"

Dean nods into the pillow snuggling in deeper, "'lways safe with you S'mmy...'lways keep you safe too S'mmy."

Sam chuckles at the sleepy answer but his heart is lightened. He wraps himself better in the blankets and quickly follows Dean into dreams. They sleep peacefully within arm's reach of each other both resting in the fact that they've asked the question and they've worked so hard to stay loyal...

Be safe with me brother, is the only thing they have asked of each other.

They both answer with equal confidence, you are safe with me brother.

the end.

This is the last chapter peoples! Everyone who enjoyed this plz review!? I love hearing what people think of my writing, stories and treatment of the characters! :):)

Ttyl ;)