Authors note: Final chapter :( Thankyou to everyone who reviewed once again. Big hugs to you all.

Disclaimer: you get the point by now I think.

Awkward silences were not his thing. He needed to do something, anything. The sounds of the knives and forks hitting and scraping the plates, and the low rumble of the occasional car that passed by the motel room seemed too loud, but too distant at the same time. Paranoia was seeping in, and each one of the Winchesters took it in turn to look around the table, and check that they weren't chewing too loud.

The minutes passed by, and they still ate in absolute silence. For what it's worth Sam tried. He really did. But the tickly stupid cough just wouldn't give up, and it was either option number one: stop breathing, or option number two: cough and let the damn fries go everywhere and suffer humiliating ribbing from Dean for all eternity. Maybe a little exaggerated. But it wasn't too far off.

But the double takes from his dad and Dean upon seeing that Sam was going slowly from red to purple sealed it. He coughed, and all fries were let loose. In almost slow motion, a fry was aimed in a perfect arc for Dean's forehead, while another shot out to his right, directly towards his dad's plate, and the other one just flopped on the floor pathetically.

Back to fry number one. I'm sad to say Dean saw it too late. For all his hunting skills and bad ass weapons, it was this one fry that made it past his reflexes, and seemed to dodge all attempts to be wafted out of the way. It bounced off his forehead with a tiny 'dunk' and fell onto his lap. There was what could have been a comical silence, except for the fact Dean's face was screaming bloody murder, and neither John nor Sam wanted to unleash the terror that was Dean hit by a fry.

Sam glanced at his dad. His lips were white with barely contained laughter, and while his stoic features remained strong, his eyes and the way they crinkled at the corners said more than anything. He glanced back to Dean, and wasn't all that shocked to find Dean's green eyes squinted at him, his mouth a grim line.

"Sam…" It was a choked whisper, and he could feel a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, despite the anger radiating off his brother in waves. He looked down into his hands and tried to control it. He really did. But like the tickly cough it would just not obey his wishes, and when he looked up at his dad, to find John was looking at him with that twinkle in his eye and face twitching due to holding in the laughter, it came out in one burst.

"HA!" Stunned silence followed his sudden outburst, but it soon ended when John joined in with his heart laughter. Sam found himself unable to contain it, and if he was honest he didn't really want to. It had to have been several years since John had laughed that way, with such carefree that Sam didn't want it to end.

His eyes watered, his side had a stitch, his cheeks hurt, but every time he and John controlled it, one look at each other and they were goners again. Dean eventually got himself over the shame, and joined in. AT first it was a few little giggles, but the happiness was catching, and soon all three Winchesters were holding onto the table for dear life, stopping themselves falling off their chairs and onto the floor.

Five or ten minutes or so later, it was all out of their system, and the laughter subsided into little chuckles and finally into little sighs of remembrance. Wiping the tears out of their eyes, and recomposing themselves, the Winchesters sat back in their chairs, and relished in the comfortable silence that followed, with the occasional small grin tugging at their mouths.

Sam's eyes felt heavy, but he knew he had to do it now. He had to leave by tomorrow if he was going to get to Palo Alto in time, and he just couldn't leave without saying why. Despite all their differences, his family deserved an explanation. Suddenly the small kitchen became suffocating and oppressive, the shadows getting longer, the rattling of the trees against the window, the fly buzzing near the rot spot by the floor all becoming deafening, and confusing. Sweat began to his face turn damp and hot, his cheeks flushing and heart beating faster.

In his jacket pocket, was the letter that changed his life forever. It was an inside pocket, placed directly over his heart. It seemed to be squeezing his chest, making it basically impossible for him to breathe. Long deep breaths became shallow and fast, and his mind convulsed. He knew it wasn't real. The letter couldn't literally be squeezing his chest and trying to kill him, but it was all so real. It was all too real. His right hand slowly made its way to his pocket, and pulled the envelope out bit by bit. His arm was exhausted by the single movement, and it dropped to his lap. Everything seemed impossible. His arm became heavy, and his heart followed suit. He no longer had the strength to fight it. No longer had the strength to be scared of what he had coming. It was too late. He was going to have to deal with this whether he liked it or not, because there wasn't a chance in hell that he wasn't going to go to Stanford.

Looking up, he saw Dean cast a quizzical look his way, but Sam chose to ignore it. Tonight had made things so much more difficult. He could stand the awkward silences, the shouting, the swearing, and the anger. He could withstand anything but the hurt look on Dean's face. Yet he knew he still had to do it, or live forever in regret.

Finding some strength inside he met Dean's gaze once again, and lifted his arm. The letter fell on the table, and John opened his eyes instinctively when the atmosphere changed from comfortable, to just downright tense. Looking from Dean to Sam, from Sam to the letter, and from the letter to Dean, he turned his cautious hazel eyes onto Sam again.

"What's that Son?"

Sam swallowed to rid his throat of the lump in it and looked his father straight in the eye and said two words.

"Read it."

John spared a quick glance at Dean before reaching out and grabbing the letter. Sam noticed his fathers hands were shaking. Oh god. His father opened the envelope, and slowly opened out the letter inside. Sam closed his eyes in silent prayer. Please god, please god, please god, please-

"Sam what's the matter?" Sam opened his eyes. His big brother was frozen, his muscles tense, and every single cell in his body on alert. Sam just slowly shook his head, and looked down into his lap again. Ignoring everything. Ignoring the stinging behind his eyes, ignoring Dean's eyes so full of concern and worry that Sam's heart broke over what he was doing to him. Don't care Dean. Please just don't care. But he knew Dean would care. More than anyone else in the world Dean cared for Sam like a father, like a mother he never had. And this was how Sam repaid him?

His head had joined his heart and arms and turned against him, becoming heavy and impossible to move. His neck clicked at groaned, but he finally managed to get his head up and straight just in time to see John's head turn and face him. He swore he saw fire in his eyes, but it must've been a trick of the light, for in the next moment it was gone, leaving behind a stony stillness that was just unnatural. And for the first time in his entire life, Sam was truly afraid of his own father.

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The sniffles died, and sobbing stopped, but still the brothers clung onto each other, in a perfect picture of utter devotion. Feeling that little bit more brave and strong, Dean drew back, and while Sam was reluctant to let go of the one thing he had left, he drew back also. The two Winchesters sat on the bed, both looking downcast and distant, not quite yet believing what had just taken place. Things must've gotten bed if it had resulted in….what had just happened.

Sam cleared his throat uneasily and said roughly "Dean?"

Dean looked up. "Uhummmm"

Sam smiled awkwardly. "I ummm…I need to go."

To say Dean was confused was an understatement. He raised his brow and put his 'wtf?' expression on. Sam sighed and shook his head slightly.

"To the bathroom" Sam explained. Dean looked confused for a split second, then after digesting the words, a look of comprehension cleared his features. "Oooh. I gotcha."

A few seconds passed. "Dean?"

"Yeah? What?"

"Would you mind getting off the bed now?"

Dean's cheeks turned pink and he stood quickly, muttering under his breath and standing beside Sam so he could assist if necessary. Later on he'd say it was cramp in his foot. Sam unsteadily got up out of bed, and made his slow way over to the bathroom, and closed the door behind him. Dean noticed he didn't lock it.

He sighed and slumped on the bed, physically and emotionally drained from the ordeals of the past couple of days. Could they ever catch a break? You'd think after all the good they do in the world they would get some sort of reward. Maybe just once in a while, things could go right for them. But no. That was too much to ask for. That was way out of fucking line! The scandal! The horror! The-

A soft touch on his shoulder broke him out of his dark thoughts, and his head whipped around to see his kid brother sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, concern plastered in his face. The first free emotion that had been there for days. And while he was annoyed it was directed at him, he couldn't help but feel relieved. They were one step closer at least.

"Sam-" He started off, but was interrupted before he could get a chance to finish. "Dean…I…" Sam sighed, and looked him in the eye. "Dean I'm sorry." It was Dean's turn to sigh. "Yeah I know you are kid, and…and…I'm sorry too."

Sam's face took on an incredulous quality. "Dean what the hell do you have to be sorry for? For living?"

Dean sighed. Sam didn't know how right he was.

Previously on Supernatural:

Dean sighed. Sam didn't know how right he was.

Now:

Sam realised his mistake too late. Shit.

FLASHBACK

Without a word John rose from the table and walked into what could be called a living room. Sam was beyond confused. Absolutely dumb-stricken doesn't even cover it. Was that it? John Winchester doesn't have anything to say about this? He realised his mistake too late.

A grunt was all the warning they had before a thunderous crash came from the room next door. It was followed quickly by smashes, and stomps, and banging as the measly contents of the room were thrown violently into the walls, and it was worse than any verbal lashing he thought he'd receive. More frightening. Because all that anger, all that abuse, it was all directed at him. Every single ounce of pain he might've received from a beating was nothing compared to the tons of pain that flooded him with every beating of his heart.

The fact that there were no words to express how John felt, no words that could explain, no words that could reconcile, and no words to fix what was happening before his very eyes in the room next door was something so new and so dangerous, that Sam was even willing to run upstairs, pack his bags and leave.

Because what was happening in that room next door, was John Winchester loosing every strand of control he had over himself. The utter breakdown of a man so strong, and so tough, made him think he had no chance of surviving in this world.

The grunts, the cries of anger, the loud sounds were too loud, compared to silence that was that was there before. Already that seemed another world apart, a long forgotten memory dredged up from the past. He had done the worst thing he could possibly do. He betrayed his own family.

In a cinematic fashion, the tears gently rolled down his face, in total contrast to the storm raging inside his head. Except this was no movie. This was real life. Something he couldn't escape from and laugh about with Dean later.

Sam no longer felt like the man he thought he'd become, the man he'd been brought up to be, but a five year old filled with nightmares of the monster under the bed, seeking refuge in the one thing he could rely on. His family.

Suddenly, the crashing stopped. Before he realised it, Sam slowly stood up, his knees cracking and hesitantly started to make his way towards the lounge. Hovering outside the doorway for a few moments, he nervously glanced back towards his big brother. Sam caught the briefest sight of the hurt that poured out of Dean's eyes like a river, and the river crashed into him and swallowed him in one fluid motion. Eye's that usually held such confidence and cockiness had become eye's that hid a broken man, a man who no longer knew his own brother.

Dean turned away. But he knew it was too late. Sammy had seen it. Seen the utter wreck he'd become even at the prospect of loosing his little brother, had seen what he'd be like in a few years. Seen what he'd be like in a few days. Cold and alone.

He closed his eyes and found solace in denial. That this wasn't happening, that the logo on the letter wasn't for Stanford University, that his dad wasn't loosing himself, that he wasn't loosing himself, that the tears weren't gathering in his eyes, that his hands weren't shaking and his lip wasn't trembling, and that all the walls and protections he put in place weren't crumbling down to leave a lost little soldier, and a boy left out in the rain with nowhere to go.

Opening his eyes, he was brought back to the present, and immediately recognised the raised voices from the other room. Sniffing and brushing away the tears that weren't there, Dean listened intently to what was being said. Rather what was being shouted.

"DAD! Just listen to me! Please!" Sam was begging.

Oh I'm listening alright Sam. I'm getting the message loud and clear. And his dad was ignoring his brother's pleas. In a state of mind, where Dean wasn't really all there, he listened as his family was being ripped apart at the seams.

But dad-

Sam! You know what? I'm sick and tired of your moaning. That this life isn't good enough for you. Do you know what else? You wanna leave for that poncy, stuck-up, snobby school then FINE! GO! LEAVE!

Dad-

EVERYTHING I've ever done for you, what your BROTHER had sacrificed for you, what I'VE sacrificed for you all of it means NOTHING? You think this is some kinda game? That you can just swan off, no matter the consequences? Sam people out there need us to protect them , cause lets face it who else will? You're condemning them to death and YOU DON'T EVEN CARE!!!!

Please dad just let me –

I'm sick and tired of you excuses Sam! You either stay with me and your brother or you leave. But I swear to god Sam, if you leave, then don't EVER think that you're coming back! I mean it Sam. You walk out that door right now, don't EVER WALK BACK THROUGH IT AGAIN!

A choked sob. Then pounding as Sam ran through the motel, then the slamming of the bedroom door. And all was silent. And it was such a complete silence. Not birds, no annoying flies, and no cars. As if someone had pressed pause as they went to go get a cup of coffee. That this was someone's sick idea of a game. But as his father had put it, this was no fucking game, this was no fucking movie, and this wasn't even life. This was a Winchester's life.

John words reverberated in his head, if you leave don't ever think that you're coming back…never coming back…never coming back…leave…never come back… A strangled cry escaped his throat, but it was so small and feeble, that no one heard it.

Nobody heard the dead man,

But still he lay moaning.

Oh god Sammy. Pleasedon'tleavemepleasedon'tleavemeherealoneanddyingandlost. Pleasejuststaydon'tleavemepleasedon'tleavemepleasedon'tleavemepleasedon'tleaveme…

The mantra repeated over and over in his head, he forced himself to believe it. He believed that if he said it hard enough, and long enough that Sam would stay. His mouth formed the words but no sound came out. No sound would ever come out of his mouth for days, weeks. Only the slam of a door brought him back, and immediately he flinched and shrunk like wounded puppy. His head screaming that this couldn't be happening, not his Sammy, not ever. His Sammy would never leave him, had promised when he was 7 years old he would never leave him to face the monsters alone again. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes, and he brushed them away angrily. What was wrong with him? He was 22 for cripes sake! Anger was good. Anger got rid of pain, and fear, and loss, and made him focused.

But then Sam came out of the hallway, and Dean's gaze was locked on the duffel bag in his hands. He slowly looked Sam in the eye. And at that moment he understood. He couldn't keep Sam here; no matter how much he wanted too. It was cruel. Like keeping a wild animal locked in a cage. What was that saying? If you love someone, set them free.

So Dean sat there and watched. Watched as his life cried and whispered goodbye to him before walking out of a door. Never to return.

END OF FLASHBACK

"Dean you know I didn't mean that…it's just that- well, I- "

"Sam it's okay dude. I get it."

"Dean, I don't think you do."

"Sam-just don't okay?"

"No Dean it's not okay! Ever since the hospital-" Sam sighed. Dean turned dangerous green eyes on him, and he thought twice about bringing up this discussion again, but it had to be done. He had to do this for Dean's sake.

"Dean it wasn't your fault." His brother scoffed. "I mean it. Dad died and there's nothing we could've done to stop it." His voice cracked slightly. "Dean…I almost lost you that day, your heart stopped beating right in front of me." Tears pooled in his eyes at the memory, the memory that haunted his dreams. "I'm not sad that you're alive. I'm sorry Dean, but when it comes down to it, I can't be sorry that you lived that day. I just can't."

When he looked up Dean was staring at him, and he was no longer dangerous, but a boy that had been left in the rain, that had been given a blanket and a home to go to.

Dean stared at his brother as he spilled his heart out, and felt the sadness wash over him in waves. He knew that if he were in his brother's position he would feel exactly the same. Sam was precious. He didn't realise it, but he was. But for him to hear that he was precious, and that when he walked out of that hospital with Sam by his side meant something, made the cold in his heart break away a little, and maybe let room for light.

He needed to say something.

"Sam…you gotta tell me what you're dreams were about." Immediately Sam looked away, and became distant.

"It's nothing Dean. Just leave it alone."

Dean smirked. "Nuh uh." He soon turned serious again. "Sammy" he whispered. "Tell me what's going on."

-x-

Sam closed his eyes, as words came back to mind. Stop dumping it all on me….

-x-

Dean sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot recently. Sighing. Well, he supposed there was a lot to sigh about. "Sammy." Dean waited until Sam opened his eyes. "Sammy…look at me." His brother did as he was told, and looked Sam in the eye. He almost gasped as he saw the anguish and confusion that lay so openly for him to see. His tone unconsciously became softer. "Please."

Sam broke. He told Dean everything. All the nightmares, all the dreams, and all the words. Meanwhile his brother, and sat patiently through the sniffles, the pauses, the hesitance and the fear. Occasionally Dean's hand would slip onto Sam's arm, offering assurance and courage. As much for himself as well as Sam.

Dean was heart broken. How could he have not noticed? How could he have been so blind and ignorant to the one thing he cared for above everything else? His own life was not as important as Sam's. With his weakness, came a new strength. The strength to go on. He resolved to never let it get this bad ever again, never to this extreme. Where it was only when they were both hurting so bad that they had no choice but to scream. So the tears from his eyes were held back, his fists unclenched, and his mind became a bit more clearer.

You protect Sammy okay?

Yeah dad you know I will.

Eventually it was all out in the open, and the silence lingered for a moment as Sam gained his composure off the floor. He spoke again. "Dean…tell me you know it wasn't your fault that dad died."

Dean opened his mouth to speak but was cut off. "And Dean?" Sam turned to face him, and no longer was he the boy with the nightmares, but the man that would help his brother through this. "Don't you dare tell me what I wanna hear." And he said it with such force that Dean couldn't help but believe him, and sink into the promise.

"I-" His voice cracked, and he wrestled with himself for a moment longer, before giving in. "Sam I don't know. But I do know that the way I came back was…unnatural. I do know that I'm not supposed to be here, that my very existence is wrong. That I'm dirty, tainted. That I feel as though the world crashes down on me and sucks me dry when I think about myself." Dean's words caught up in his throat, and he put his head in his hands, and let a tear escape his walls.

Sam, just laid his hand on Dean's back, and moved it in smalls circles, like Dean did for him when he was little. He felt something change in him. It was screwed up for Dean to feel this way. And he vowed to make it better. And he no longer was the comforted, but the comforter.

Dean was allowed his moment of weakness, in solitude, but he knew he would never be alone, again. That he would never face the monsters alone again.

The brothers had each other, and who needed a reward when they had that?