OK this is the last chapter... Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed! And thanks for not killing me for briefly turning Dean into a girl in the last chapter!

This chapter comes somewhere between The Benders and Shadow... for obvious reasons!

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Sam was standing on a desert road. It stretched for miles and miles in both directions, perfectly straight, disappearing off into the distant horizon like a big black line some giant had drawn with a slide rule.

He was standing in the dead centre of the road, the heat from the tar beneath him radiating up through his sneakers and into his feet. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation. In fact, it was nice to feel the sun on his face, the slight breeze ruffling his hair.

There was no traffic on the road; no trucks destined for big cities with caseloads of fizzy beverages; no roadtripping college kids; no busloads of tired travellers praying for the next rest stop.

All there was was Sam.

He wondered how he'd come to be here.

He had no visible form of transportation; no bags; no provisions. He didn't feel he'd walked very far. In fact, he didn't feel he'd walked at all. He had no coat; no money; no bus ticket burning a hole in his pocket.

There was just Sam and this road.

All very metaphorical if he took the time to think about it.

He knew it wasn't real; just like he'd known Bethany wasn't real; Maggie wasn't real; Jenna and Matthew; Jessica. Every time he looked at Jessica, he knew. But in the end, what did it matter? This was his chance to be with her. This was his chance to reclaim the life he'd had taken from him last November… No, that life had been taken from him on a November night a lot longer ago that that. It had just taken him this long to admit it.

So this was his chance.

He could finally have the life he really wanted, however illusory. What was wrong with that? It was his life. Take it or lose it.

"You know you can't stay here, Sam?"

He felt Jessica's fingers slip into his own as her voice drifted through his consciousness.

He looked down at her. She was wearing the white dress he'd seen her wear before. He smiled. "Says who?" he asked.

"Says me."

Sam turned.

On his other side, walking towards him.

Dean.

He'd tried not to think about Dean too much. It made his head hurt, and his choice that much more difficult. It was easier to choose Jessica when he could blame Dean for losing her in the first place.

Except, he knew that was as much a lie as the one he'd been telling himself since he got here. He knew it wasn't Dean's fault Jessica died. Any more than it was Dad's fault he'd lost his Mom.

He couldn't look at Dean at first, preferring to stare off towards the horizon; examine his feet; look at the road. Anywhere but at Dean.

"You've known all long, haven't you?" Dean was standing right next to him now, as close to him as Jessica.

Sam didn't answer, still looking down at his feet. "Angel on one shoulder, devil on the other…" he muttered.

"Hey, don't you go turning me into no freakin' metaphor!" Dean snapped, glancing over his shoulder, as if he was waiting for someone. "Bad enough I've been a girl today…"

Sam smiled then. "You were pretty hot as a girl."

Dean grimaced. "Don't be thinking about your sister like that, dude," he said, glancing sideways at his brother, hopefully: Sam had almost sounded like his old self just then.

Sam, still not meeting his gaze, looked over Dean's shoulder, off up the empty road as his brother hopped from foot to foot, anxiously. "You waiting for someone?"

For the first time, their eyes met.

Dean shrugged. "Figured I needed some backup," he said. "Had to call in the big guns."

"Yeah?" Sam said. "Hate to rain on your parade, man, but you're on own here."

"With a face like that?" a woman's voice startled both Sam and Dean, who turned to face the woman suddenly standing at Dean's shoulder. "This boy'll never be alone."

"Missouri?"

Sam wasn't sure where she'd come from. One minute she wasn't there… now she was, standing behind Dean, her purse hitched high on her shoulder, smiling that smile of hers: like she knew something no-one else in the world knew.

She put her hand on Dean's shoulder, and he flinched just ever so slightly. She was one of the very few women in the world who could make Dean uneasy. It was that way she had of being inside his head when he least expected it. Kind of like a psychic kindergarten teacher.

"So," Missouri said, taking a deep breath. "Sam, you're in a bit of a spot here, honey."

Sam glanced at Jessica, who smiled at him, detached, almost as if he was all she could see. "I made a choice, that's all."

Missouri nodded. "Yes you did," she agreed. "And I'm not here to tell you that you made the wrong one, sweetheart." She put a gentle hand on his arm, drawing his gaze towards her.

"How do I know you're even real?" Sam asked. "You're just part of my dream, right? Like Dean?"

Missouri inclined her head. "You could say I'm the manifestation of some part of your sub-conscious, I suppose," she said. "Your conscience maybe?" She glanced sideways at Dean. "But Dean? He's as real as you are, honey. Came in here to get you out. But realised he needed help." She smiled. "So maybe he's not as dumb as he looks." Dean frowned at her, used to her jibes by now. She smiled back sweetly. "Cares a lot about you, Sam," she added, causing Dean to fidget again uncomfortably. "Only wants what's best for you."

Sam considered Dean for a second. "Who's to say what's best for me?" he asked.

"Well," Missouri said, her voice remaining even. "Only you can know that for sure."

Sam looked away. Looked at Jessica. "I know she's not real," he said quietly. He looked back at Missouri. "But I'm not sure what is real any more."

Missouri nodded. "Honey, you're lost, that's all," she said, taking his hand and squeezing it. "As surely as if you really were standing out here alone in the middle of this desert. It's time for you to come home now. Your Mom didn't sacrifice herself for her boys so's you could go hide yourself away in some dream world."

"I'm not hiding," Sam protested.

"Could have fooled me," Dean muttered.

Sam cast him an irritated glance. "You're one to talk," he observed.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam squared up to his brother defiantly. "Dean, you spend your whole life hiding; from me; from Cassie; from Dad; from the world. You hide behind orders, behind this – this 'job' and you keep everyone at arm's length because you're scared of actually living, of actually letting anyone see who you really are. You're scared if you do, they'll leave you."

Dean was about to make some smart-ass retort, but choked it down before it even reached his mouth. "That's what you think?" was all he said.

Sam nodded. "That's what I think."

Dean laughed, although he didn't find any of this remotely funny. "You know what?" he said. "If I hadn't followed Dad's orders, you'd be dead ten times over. You think you'd have got your picket fence, happy ever after life then?" He shook his head. "I'm not scared of living, Sam," he said. "And I'm not scared of dying. Which are you scared of?"

Sam didn't answer, just turned away from him.

Only to find himself face to face with the man suddenly standing behind Missouri: tall, greying beard, dark sad eyes.

"Sam?"

Dean didn't turn around. He knew whose voice that was.

"Dad?" Sam began carefully. "Is that you? Are you – are you really here? I mean – like Missouri? Or are you – "

"Sam," John seemed to ignore his son's question. "I'm sorry. This has gone on long enough. I never meant this to hurt you. I didn't realise…" he trailed off, eyes drifting to Jessica. Then, "Your Mom died protecting you Sam. She died so that you could live. I can't let you throw that away. That's why I'm here."

Sam's face was a mask of conflicted emotions. He hadn't seen his father in a long time, and, while he knew this wasn't really his father, he'd been looking for him for so long that this almost felt like cheating. He was dreaming this. He knew he was. So if he asked his Dad the question, the one he'd been so desperate to find him in order to ask, how could he trust the truthfulness of the answer? This was, after all, Sam's dream. How did he know his Dad wouldn't just tell him what he wanted to hear?

But then again, he wasn't sure what that was.

"What difference does it make?" Sam asked finally. "Whether I live or die?"

"It makes a hell of a difference!" Dean put in, trying hard to hide what Sam had just said about him within the box in his head where he kept Roosevelt Asylum. Hidden. Maybe Sam was right…

"To who?" Sam returned. "You've all made it clear that I can't have the life I want," he glanced at Jessica. "So why should I go back to a life I didn't choose? Who's going to care if I stay here?"

"I am," Dean replied, truthfully. "And so will Dad."

Their father took a step forward. "It's not a question of how I feel, Sam," he said quietly. "It's a question of what you're meant to do with the life you've been given."

"What, and I don't get any say in the matter?" Just like old times, Sam found himself thinking. Even if this isn't really Dad.

"Sam," Missouri put her hand on his arm. "You should know better than anyone: We don't choose our life; Our life chooses us. Think what would have happened if you hadn't chosen to go with Dean to look for your father – "

"Jessica would still be alive," Sam insisted.

There it was, Dean realised. Somewhere deep down inside, Sam did blame him for Jessica's death.

"You don't know that," John put in. "You and Jessica might both have died."

Sam met his father's gaze. "Would that have been so terrible?"

"Actually, yes," a little voice piped up.

Sam followed the direction of the voice, to where a young woman had appeared from somewhere behind John. She was pretty, dark haired, and was leading a young boy by the hand. He smiled, first at Dean and then at Sam.

"Andrea?" Sam said.

Andrea Barr smiled. "Hey, Sam," she said. "Excuse me for intruding on your dream, but I felt I had something I needed to say."

Sam opened his mouth as if to answer, then closed it again when no words came to mind.

"Go right ahead, honey," Missouri answered for him.

Andrea smiled again. "What I have to say," she said, "for what it's worth, is this. If you had died last year? Me and Lucas would have died too." She indicated the boy whose hand she held. "My son and I? We owe our lives to you and Dean. Now, that may not be of cosmic significance in the grand scheme of things, but it means a lot too me."

"Ditto." A curly-haired girl stepped out from behind Andrea and Lucas, her two brothers in tow. Haley Collins smiled at Sam, before indicating Tommy and Ben. "That thing in the mine would have eaten us all alive, Sam," she said. "If you guys hadn't shown up with no dress sense and a pack of M and Ms to your name."

There were other people appearing behind Haley now: Jenny and her two kids, Sarry and Richie, who lived in the Winchesters' old house in Lawrence. Jenny smiled and waved; Kat and Gavin – the kids Sam and Dean had rescued from Roosevelt Asylum; Matt, the bug kid, and his parents; Sam's friend Zach and his sister Becky; Lori; Charley; Cassie and her Mom; Kathleen Hudak, the cop who had helped them fight the most human of monsters.

And more people kept coming.

Dean looked over at Sam then, trying to gauge the effect of what his brother was seeing by the expression on his face. "You may not have chosen this life, Sam," he said slowly. "But we save a lot of people doing what we do."

Sam blinked hard. "I think a coach load just arrived…" he muttered, as a crowd of people started to emerge on the road up ahead, walking out of the middle distance like some bizarre mirage.

"Plane load, actually," the young stewardess at their head said, smiling broadly at Sam. "United Britannia flight 424." She indicated the mass of people behind her.

"Amanda – "

"Whole plane load of people, Sam," Amanda Walker said. "Who wouldn't be alive today if you'd died in a house fire. Or gone off to be some hotshot lawyer."

Sam's head was starting to hurt. "I didn't ask for this – this responsibility," he said. "All I wanted was an ordinary life!"

Missouri stepped forward, gently touching his face. "Sweetie," she said, her voice sad. "If your family has a curse – " she waved a hand behind her to indicate the mass of people now standing on the desert road. "This is it. You weren't put here to have an ordinary life, Sam. You were put here to have an extraordinary one!"

Sam didn't know how to respond to that. In fact, he didn't know what to say at all. All of these people… If he hadn't chosen the path he had, if he hadn't gone off with Dean to try and find Dad, they probably wouldn't be here…

If he'd stayed with Jessica, yes, he might have saved her. But at the expense of all of these others.

He glanced first at John, who was watching him silently, and then at Dean, who was also watching, but with a completely different expression on his face to the detached concern shown by their father.

It occurred to Sam at that moment that he'd been wrong before. What he'd said about Dean, about him hiding himself from the world. He'd been wrong about that. That may have been the case before their father disappeared, but since Sam had joined him on this crazy roadtrip of theirs, it had been a different story.

Someone else Sam had saved.

In that second, Sam realised he hadn't really known his brother at all until now. But now he understood.

"Sammy?" Dean took a step towards him, his expression almost one of pleading. "You've got to come back. If not for me, if not for them – " he indicated the throng of people crowding behind him, " – then do it for yourself! You're not supposed to be here, Sam. This isn't the life you were supposed to choose either."

Sam met Dean's gaze evenly.

"Sam?" Jessica squeezed his hand, looking up into his eyes. "It's time to choose…"

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Sam blinked hard in the bright light. His eyes hurt and he closed them quickly, instinctively. His head hurt too. Hell, everything hurt. He tried to sit up, but an insistent hand on his shoulder pushed him back down.

"Take it easy, kiddo," a familiar voice said.

Sam's eyes snapped open. "Dean?" he looked up, eyes acclimatising slowly in the harsh electric glare. "Where – ?" He glanced about him uncertainly, unsure whether he was still dreaming. He was in a hospital room. Small. Dingy. The orange floral pattern on the curtains hurt his eyes almost as much as the buzzing fluorescent light above his bed.

No, if he was dreaming, he would have dreamt a nicer room than this one.

Dean was standing over him, his hand still pressed against his shoulder. He looked like Sam felt; like he'd been to hell and back.

"It's OK," a young woman emerged from behind Dean, short blonde hair in a neat little ponytail, blue eyes beaming warmly. She was wearing a nurse's uniform. "You're alright," she reassured him, soothingly. "You're safe now."

Sam smiled at her. "Bethany, right?" he said.

The girl laughed, indicating her name tag. "At least you can still read, Sam!"

Dean cast her a grin. "You've got our – er – little sister here to thank for saving your ass."

"Sorry about that," Bethany said. "Not about saving you. About hijacking one of the characters in your dream."

Sam smiled wistfully, before nodding at Dean. "Who needs a kid sister when you've got him?"

Dean wasn't sure how to take that. "You're not too big for a spanking, son," he said. "I was a chick for you – you owe me big time."

"Yeah," the smile faded from Sam's face and he became suddenly serious. "Yeah, I do."

"Yeah well," Dean said uncomfortably. "I ever get stuck in my own nightmares, you'll do the same for me, right?"

Sam considered for longer than was strictly necessary, grinning lopsidedly. "Maybe," he said. "On the other hand, if I just left you there, at least I'd get the car."

"Over my dead body!"

"Don't even joke…" Sam winced as he tried to sit up. "I've seen your dead body far more times lately than I ever want to again."

"Hey, I told you to take it easy," Dean said, skirting around that subject as he tried to push Sam back down again. Sam resisted this time, however, a modicum of strength starting to return to his aching body.

"How long was I sleeping?" he asked, managing to get himself into a sitting position with a little help from his brother.

"A week," Bethany answered.

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "A week?" he echoed. "Oh my god, I've been lying here long enough, I need to – "

"Rest," Bethany said. "Believe it or not, you need to rest. Your body and your mind have been through some pretty traumatic stuff in the last seven days. Give them both a break!"

"Plus," Dean added, slyly glancing over his shoulder at Bethany. "There actually are some hot nurses in this place!"

Bethany pulled a face. "I'm not a nurse," she pointed out.

"Who said I was talking about you?" Dean asked, flashing that grin of his.

"I thought you didn't like witches?"

"Hey, I'm big enough to admit when I'm wrong…"

Sam cleared his throat a little too loudly, distracting Dean from flirting long enough to get his attention.

Acknowledging Sam's interruption, Dean continued in a more serious tone of voice. "Plus, you did save my brother's life."

"For what it's worth," Sam added.

Bethany frowned at him. "It's worth a lot, Sam," she said. "I thought you'd seen that? I thought that's why you decided to come back?"

Sam looked away, eyes drifting to the window where the dawn was desperately trying to make its presence felt in the early morning sky. "Yeah," he said, his voice subdued and uncertain. "Yeah, I did."

Dean put his hand on his brother's shoulder, and Sam tore his gaze away from the window. "Don't ever think your life's not important Sam," he said. "'Cause it is. It's just important in a different way to how you wanted it to be. Besides, if you were off being a lawyer somewhere, who'd keep my ass outta trouble?"

Sam smiled weakly. "That's a full-time job in itself," he said.

Bethany beamed. "And at least you're awake to do it now," she commented.

"Thanks to you," Sam observed.

Bethany grinned. "Hey, what can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending. My family just needed a little convincing, that's all."

"They needed as much guidance as Sam, huh?" Dean said.

"It was harder convincing them to let me guide Sam's dream that it was convincing Sam to come back with us," Bethany admitted. "To be honest, I don't know if my argument was that convincing. I get a feeling there was more to their decision than just me."

"Whatever changed their minds," Dean said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Both of you."

Dean squinted at her. "One question."

Bethany seemed uncertain. "Erm, OK…" she said.

"Who were you?" Dean asked. "In the dream?"

Bethany laughed. "You couldn't tell?"

Dean shrugged, hazarding a guess. "Dad, right?"

Sam nodded his agreement. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Bethany's smile became more enigmatic. "No," she said. "I was Missouri."

Sam and Dean exchanged a confused glance.

"So…" Dean began.

"Who was Dad?" Sam finished.

"That," Bethany said, smiling again. "Was your father."

THE END