A/N: So we come to the end of it. Thank you guys all for reading and reviewing! It means a lot that you've stuck along for the ride. Hopefully this is well suited ending, and plz comment on it freely or the entire story as you will.

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Chapter 19

End of the Line

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Fierce wind swept into the confines of the clearing, its force pressing Sam closer to the ground with each raging blow of Latin falling from his lips. His very skin felt alive, the ancient words creating a stinging sensation along every inch of him. The last word spoken preceded a pained cry as Sam's chest flared mercilessly.

Tears sprung into his eyes as the agony intensified to the drumming pulse of his heart, as a power entered him then surged through and out from him. Desperately, he prayed for end. It came, no more than seconds later, with a buzz of sonic proportions and a wave of dizziness that left him stranded in the dark confines of the unknown.

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Dean adjusted himself in the firm bed, allowing the hospital blanket to pool unceremoniously at his feet regardless of the fact that he was chilled to the bone. He had neither the desire nor ability to pick it back up and replace it where it belonged over his aching body. His mind was elsewhere, his attention wholeheartedly focused on the crinkled paper clutched so tightly it nearly tore within his grip.

The elder brother swallowed thickly, repeatedly, as his brother's scribbled penmanship swam before his eyes.

Dean,

So you either want to kill me right about now, or you have so many questions as to how the hell you're here and not chained to some wall that you figure you can always kill me later.

I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up, but I figure the hospital will probably give me a call when you do seeing as you'll either make a run for it or take someone out in the process trying to get to me. Just don't do anything stupid, okay? The doctor said you're really sick so rest, you need it, whether you think you do or not. Don't worry about me. You shouldn't have to.

I don't really know the best way to explain all this. So, I'm just going to say it. I made a deal, Dean. That's how we got out of the crypt alive, and I agreed to it without even hearing the stakes.

Yeah, I know, that's got to be Winchester Rule #21 or something, but Dean, I didn't have a choice. There was this priest, one of Father Andrew's followers I guess. He must've trusted him, 'cause he left both of us in the man's care. Next thing I know, the guys checking on you, and untying me saying that if I do what he wants he'll let us go.

All he wanted me to do was read this chant which that will transfer Father Andrew's power to him so he can just keep on doing what he's doing. As if, immortality wasn't enough of a power trip, the guy has to be over them all.

We were so screwed, Dean. I just acted. I'm trusting this guy to come through for us. He says he'll let us go, let us live. But if something goes wrong, get out as soon as you can. You're not the only brother who would die to save the other you know. Don't come back looking for me, I'll probably be gone; I doubt they'd leave me there. If you do find me, bury me next to Jess. It's all I ask.

Sam

The fingers that had clung so tightly fell limp and useless as Dean read over and over again his brother's retelling and decision until the words were burned onto his eyes. It was long, longer than any of Sam's semi-long explanations of why he's on a coffee run notes that big brother teased him relentlessly for because hell, if they weren't adults and notes weren't for married, whipped men. This one wasn't long enough to satisfy Dean or unnecessarily simple in the least, and the last couple of lines held him spellbound.

It wasn't rage that built inside, but nothing short of sorrow, grief, and guilt over the decision his brother had been forced to make--a decision with big brother in mind. Dean had been made a similar decision more than a few times in his hunting career, and he understood the internal struggle. But, still, this was one he had hoped Sam would never be forced to make and burning wetness stung behind jade at the knowledge that his brother indeed had made a choice.

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Owl eyes blinked away the terrifying black and squinted against the dim sky painted an array of pink, gold, and lightest blue. Sam scrunched his face in annoyance as he sharp blades of green had formed a new layer of skin on his face. With deliberate slow movements, Sam eased himself up onto his elbows, rubbing the side of his face that had planted itself in the ground, hoping and praying it wasn't red and lined with grass marks.

The throbbing ache that had once inhabited his head faded with each blink as Sam entered further consciousness, and the searing agony all but dulled instantly. For a moment, the dark-haired man considered himself dead. The air was too still, too quiet and nothing but peaceful serenity appeared before him.

Years of hunting informed him otherwise, and Sam's mind quickly pieced together the familiar scenery and the reason he was now there. Alert in every way, Sam rose to feet, his eyes darting around the circle, and his stance demanding whoever could be lying hidden and waiting for him to come out and offer challenge.

When it seemed that all possibility of threat was gone, Sam heaved a sigh of relief and a manic laugh broke from him lips. It was over.

Hurriedly, Sam made his way outside the circle, ignoring the pile of ash and jarred shards of bones covered slightly by the black of a priests robe that remained of the man he'd given up in exchange for life. He had to get to Dean. He had to make sure they were truly safe.

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Dean idly flipped through the channels, finally deciding that Rebecca and Steve's love child, who really belonged to Rick, was far more interesting than any segment of Masterpiece Theatre. Before the truth could be revealed and the horrifying acting could be seen, his soap experience was cut short when his nurse walked in, a smile on her face.

"You're looking better today," The blonde praised sweetly as she proceeded to check Dean's stats.

Dean smirked wirily. "So I can leave right?"

"Nope, sorry, honey. Doctor says a couple more days of rest and observation." Hearing Dean's irritated groan, the nurse quickly continued, "But you have a visitor."

"Who?" Dean inquired anxiously. He only knew one person it could be, but that didn't mean he was right and while he hoped he was, disappointment always proved the bitch.

Tracy smiled widely. "Same guy that brought you in. You're brother, right? Sam."

Dean's face was a myriad of emotions and the blonde struggled to make out just how her patient was taking the news when the heart monitor sped up slightly. "Why didn't he just come in?"

"Said he wanted to make sure you would see him." The nurse replied absently, although insinuation was clear in her tone as she jotted down something on Dean's chart before starting to leave. "Should I send him in?"

Dean nodded slowly, nervous hands fumbling with the remote as he attempted to shut off the television. Sam definitely didn't need to know about the soaps thing, for sure. It was bad enough he was in a friggen' gown and hooked up to god knows what.

After a couple of impatiently spent minutes, a familiar head of brown peered into the room, the door cracked slightly ajar, hiding the rest of Sam.

"I can see you, dork." Dean quipped, smirk in place when Sam smiled weakly in return, a small embarrassed blush on cheeks.

Silence reigned for tense seconds as Sam sauntered over and sunk down into the bedside chair, and studied his brother for a moment. "How are you doing?"

"Ready to get the hell out of here," Dean huffed, looking damn near a pout. "And I should be asking you that question."

"I'm fine. Alive." Sam sighed heavily when Dean rolled his eyes, and issued an understanding but firm gaze at his brother, "Just a couple more days here and then we can go."

"Good. This is worse than prison." The older Winchester complained and placed his bed in a more upright position.

"You've never been in prison." Sam exasperated, running tired fingers through his greasy hair. All sense of adrenaline had jumped ship the instant he'd fell into the waiting room chair, and now he was nothing short of exhausted.

Dean shrugged, slightly raising his hands palm up with the gesture. "Maybe not long term, but dude, this is close."

Sam let his head loll back to rest against the high backed chair. "Whatever you say, Dean."

The disinfectant laden air grew tense as both brothers fell into an uncomfortable quiet. One not knowing where to begin, the other desperately hoping they wouldn't.

"So…" Dean drawled a start, "You going to tell me what happened?"

"You know what happened," Sam clipped and proceeded to rub the back of his neck.

Dean scoffed. "Right, 'cause that note you left was damn detailed. Although it was better than any one I ever got in my lunch box."

"What'd you want me to do, huh? You were friggen' unconscious!" Sam blurted out angrily and Dean startled at the force behind the words.

Dean raised his hands in mock surrender. "Dude, calm down. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay." Sam protested and jumped up to start a round of furious pacing.

Dean maneuvered himself into a forward lean the best he could, giving his brother's walking circles his full attention. "We're not doing this."

Sam jerkily came to a stop. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not letting you guilt trip about this." Dean explained authoritatively. He knew where that could get you, and he'd be damned to watch his brother travel down that road while he was on duty. "You said it yourself. You didn't really have a choice."

"So, this doesn't bother you? Not in the least? I was in Nebraska too, Dean. You were pissed over Marshall and that was just one person. I just allowed these guys to keep on killing people, a lot of people." Sam demanded bitterly, his face red with frustration and irritation at the lack of response he was getting from his brother.

Dean held up a hand to stop Sam's rant. "What are you talking about, Sam?"

"That chant just gave the power to another man. One equally as evil as Andrew. They need their "chosen" to survive and keep their immortality …I told you that, I thought. All I did was save our own asses. I mean, they are just going to keep choosing their victims and killing them. I let them do that, Dean. I didn't stop them." Sam's strained voice echoed in the sterile room, the resentment and guilt clearly apparent.

"There was no way you could've, Sam." Dean assured, his face set with determination.

Sam snapped his head towards Dean, his eyes lit with protest. "You don't know that."

"Sam…"

"C'mon, Dean, yell or something. I know you. How the hell can you be okay with the decision I made?" Sam wasn't expecting Dean to literally kill him, but he hadn't expected this nonchalant behavior either. If anything he thought pissed, but understanding, not cool and collected. But then again, this was Dean.

"Because you seemed to be okay with your decision in that note, Sam, and I trust you to make the right call." Dean pointed out smoothly.

Sam dropped down onto the foot of Dean's bed. "I was trying to convince myself it was the right thing to do."

Dean nodded knowingly. "It was."

"How do you know?" Sam questioned earnestly, his brown orbs wide and clear windows into his guilt ridden soul.

"We do a lot of good, Sam. Save a lot of people. But sometimes we have to save ourselves." Dean murmured quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

Sam sat stunned for a moment, his vocal cords temporarily paralyzed by his brother's revelation, "This from the guy who jumps in between every evil thing and its prey."

"There's a difference." Dean replied sternly as if Sam should be able to see it and recognize it, but Sam's face was nothing but blank confusion. "You got to know when you're beat, Sammy. When we're there, with all the ammo we need, there's something we can do. But if you only got one escape plan, you got to use it."

"Yeah, but that wasn't all of it. I mean, it was strangers against family. And there was no way in hell I was picking strangers." Sam admitted quietly, his head drooping slightly.

"Been there." Dean sighed, and Sam lifted his head, mouth opening to question the confession further, "We're so not going there, Sam. I'm chic flicked out for the day."

"You probably need to rest anyway." Sam stated, smirking when Dean rolled his eyes.

"Have you checked the mirror lately?" Dean retorted and laughed openly when Sam ran his fingers self-consciously through his hair.

"I was under a lot of stress, man, cut me some slack." Sam joked, mocking offense.

"If this is what you looked like under stress at Stanford, you're lucky you even had a girlfriend." Dean shook his head in feigned wonderment that his brother had landed the one and only Jess. "The only bonus for you is that you got that spiffy tattoo now."

Sam smirked satisfactorily, "It's gone."

Dean looked up at Sam with disappointment. "Damn, and I was gonna get a matching one."

"So you admit you want to be like me?" Sam asked coyly, his eyebrows raised and his posture cocky.

"And have to work to get laid? Hell no." Dean's smug smile faded as Sam got up and retreated back to the abandoned chair.

"It's called 'hard-to-get'" Sam clarified, bringing his legs up to his chest and attempting to shift into a comfortable position in the chair.

"It's called being a dorky jolly green giant." Dean shot back, hurling the extra blanket at Sam's head.

"Whatever, dude." Sam replied through a yawn, his eyes drooping tiredly. "Now shut up so I can go to sleep."

"Great…'cause now I'll be able to hear Mark declaring his undying love to Virginia," Dean muttered sarcastically, as he flicked the TV back on, lowering the volume a bit for Sam's benefit.

It didn't take long for Dean to get drawn into the repetitive motion of constant flipping through all of six channels, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when Sam's voice broke his haze "Dean?"

Dean flicked his gaze to Sam quickly before looking back at the Lifetime television moment playing on channel 5. "Yeah?"

"I'm…uh…I'm glad you're alright." Sam muttered, his eyes looking at the blanket and not his brother.

"Alright, Oprah, neither one of us is dying yet. Go back to sleep." Dean snarked, but flashed Sam a smile that was returned before the younger shut his eyes yet again. Dean waited until Sam's chest fell into a sleeping rhythm before returning the sentiment. "Thanks for saving me."

Dean could've sworn he heard Sam murmur something akin to 'what I'm here for' and turned his attention back to the program. They were going to make it, live to see another day, save people, hunt things. He had no doubt that the followers had moved on to another place by now, but maybe one day they'd meet up again, finish the job they started.

He'd let Sam take that one on, blow the bastards to bits if he wanted. Little brother deserved it after all this that was for damn sure. Dean flicked off the TV, and sunk into the bed, shutting his eyes against the white walls and beeping monitors. They'd be out of here soon enough. Sam and him on the road again, ridding the world of terror one Podunk town at a time.

Sometimes they would win, sometimes not, and other times escape as narrowly as possible, but hey, that was the job. As long as Sam was there to back him up, Dean wouldn't have it any other way.

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