A/N: Thank you everyone for reading—especially those that have stuck with me for years as I worked on completing this story. I couldn't have done it without all of your kind words and encouragement. And this never would have been possible without the ever present pompoms deftly shook by sid, Lynne, devra and Heidi. Thank you, my dear friends!

All mistakes are mine.

Epilogue:

Headlights pushing back the night, windshield wipers beat a steady rhythm in the otherwise silent Impala. The boys were down for the count and Missouri was taking a powernap of her own. For the first time in a week, Bobby sighed a sigh of relief. All was right in the world again. Well, as right as it could be when you shared a world with the Winchesters.

Dean hadn't said a word after pulling Sam across his lap in the backseat. In fact, the first twenty minutes of the drive, he had just watched his brother sleep—just watched him, before finally succumbing himself. Bobby couldn't imagine what was going on in that head and heart of his. His own brain was having a hard enough time trying to wrap itself around the past week. And he didn't just go spelunking with his dead father.

Looking in the rearview mirror, he wasn't surprised to find the boys just as they were the last time he had checked on them. It was as if their bodies had been waiting an eternity to be exactly where and as they were.

Head against the window as he slept a slumber only the utterly exhausted could, Dean's arm lay draped protectively over his leather clad brother who was just as deeply asleep in his lap. And Sam, despite his reclaimed fame to sasquatch-hood, still somehow managed to fit. Legs tucked in on the seat, the other half of him was curled up—back held against big brother's chest as he lightly snored through the congestion that refused to relinquish its hold on him.

The two had a lot of healing to get through, and Bobby realized as he glanced back at their unified forms again that that's exactly what they were doing.

He would have rolled his eyes at the sweetness of it all…if he weren't just so damned relieved to have them both alive and relatively healthy. They've been through a lot to put it mildly. A lot.

And somethin' was telling him that the worst was yet to come.

Frown deepening, sitting on Sam's bed, Dean dabbed a wet, cool cloth against his brother's temple. He had thought this shit was over with…until, that is, he had awakened in the backseat of the Impala with an overgrown furnace in his lap. Thankfully, they were only minutes from Bobby's then.

Sam's breath hitched and Dean stiffened, waiting to see where the pain was coming from. "Easy…"

Writhing weakly, Sam panted through an agony that had been tearing through him off and on since practically the moment they had gotten back to the salvage yard.

"Come on, Sam," Dean urged. "Where is it?" His brother's muscles were so overtaxed that it was a herculean effort just to try and comfort himself. Finally, Sam's trembling fingers reached up and gripped at the sheet over his thigh.

Dean immediately moved in. "Okay, okay, I got it," he soothed, massaging the cramping thigh muscles around Sam's clenching hand. Maybe Sam's body had changed too much, too soon, causing the cramping. Dean didn't care much for the reason behind them, he just wanted them to stop. "Easy, buddy." He winced at his brother's strangled breaths. He just wanted them to stop.

Finally, Sam's body started to relax back into the mattress, his breathing slowing. His eyes were still pinched closed, though, as sweat beaded across his brow and with a pang of sympathy, Dean brushed wet bangs from his eyes. How many times he had done that in the past week, he couldn't say. "Doozy, huh?" Sam either didn't hear him or didn't have the strength to answer. He'd been like this for over a day now and the muscles relaxants and pain relievers barely seemed to be helping.

Watching him with a worry in his heart that he didn't think would ever leave, he said softly, "I don't know how much more of this he can take."

Missouri stood behind him, watching like she had many times over the past week with a mixture of concern and awe. John may have left his sons as his legacy. But these boys…their bond would be theirs.

"He'll be able to take it as long as he has something to hold onto," she said kindly, motioning to Sam's fingers, which were wrapped around Dean's amulet—a self-soothing gesture carried over from Sammy. In fact, Dean was so used to the tug on his neck from the past week, he hadn't even noticed.

Looking down, though, his frown only deepened. Sam's knuckles were white. Placing his own hand over his brother's and pulling it to his chest he started to rub his thumb back and forth across the knuckles.

Missouri watched as thumb never stopping, he said with gentle absolution, "I'm not going anywhere, little brother."

And Sam's fingers relaxed.

Legacy indeed.

"Sam?" Dropping to his knees next to his brother, with anxious eyes, Dean's hands hovered over him.

"M' kay," he panted from where he lay on the floor, but he didn't otherwise move. "Just give me a sec."

Dean continued to check him over anyway. "Did you hit your head?" He went to inspect.

Letting him, Sam blinked up at the ceiling, tired and frustrated. "No." The muscle cramps had finally stopped after nearly two days, but Dean knew they had left him hurting and weak.

He sat back on his heals, giving his brother some room. It was a hard, though. Sammy would have been curled up in his arms already, letting him rock the pain away. He'd be lying if he said that he wouldn't miss it—the tiny, warm body in his arms, seeking everything a big brother would always be willing to give. But now they were back in no chick flicks territory and…

"I just wanted to sit on the couch." Sam finally said miserably. "Scenery is getting kinda old in here, man."

Dean canted his head to the side. "Can't argue with you there." He's been in their room just about as much as Sam. "Still…" he stood, moving to help him "…you should have called me." He hauled his little brother up under the armpits as if he still weighed barely more than a bag of salt. Sam's long fingers gripped lightly at his sleeves as he brought him to his feet. It was so reminiscent of the way Sammy used to clutch at him, it brought a lump to Dean's throat.

"Come on, sasquatch," he said, draping one of Sam's arms over his neck and wrapping one of his own around his brother's waist. Sam leaned heavily on him, his tried and tired body nearing its limit for the day. "You know, this was much easier when you were three and a half feet tall," he grunted. He'd have had him in bed already. Snug as a bug in a rug, too.

"Dean?" Sam strained, body trembling as they neared the bed.

Tightening his grip, Dean slowed to look at him, worry creasing his brow. "Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Snorting, he nodded. "Shutting up."

Sinking onto the mattress, Sam made a noise in the back of his throat.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." But his answer was breathless and his head bowed. And when he let go of Dean's sleeve, he immediately started to wilt and list backwards. His body had reached its limit.

"Whoa, hey," Dean grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him back up. Body slumped, Sam's forehead bumped into his shoulder and stayed there. "Oookay." Looking down at him, Dean wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. "Definitely time for all little sasquatches to be in bed."

He was about to help ease him down sideways onto the pillow when Sam's fingers clumsily grappled for the sleeve over his bicep before latching on. "Dean?" His forehead pressed into his shoulder more.

Dean paused. "Yeah?" His concern grew again. He waited for a reply, but instead, Sam's fingers loosened and his hand dropped into the crook of Dean's elbow. He had fallen asleep.

In his arms.

Dean couldn't help the soft smirk as he lightly squeezed the back of his little brother's neck. "Once a cuddle bug, always a cuddle bug."

After a much needed hot bath that had left him more exhausted than refreshed, Sam leaned over the sink and willed himself to remain on his feet. It was hard enough convincing Dean to let him out of his sight…even four days after he was turned into a "big boy." If he ended up on the floor again, his "big boy" bathroom privileges would be revoked and he'd be forced to adhere to the buddy system for…well, the rest of his life likely.

Everything was just so damn taxing. After the stress of the spells, his cold, and the muscles cramps, he could barely keep his eyes open. Maybe, as Dean would say, he just needed to get used to lugging his gigantor body around again.

Sam could only hope. He had a lot of work to do.

Looking up into the fogged glass, he wiped a hand over the mirror. The image staring back was no longer that of a little boy, and for a moment he found himself missing…him.

He didn't miss having to stack books to wash his hands. He didn't miss the endless humiliation.

He'd missed the proof, the reminder,that somewhere buried deep inside him…there had been innocence after all.

But what was lost was lost. He had to look ahead to what he still had a chance of saving. Because also buried was something else Sam needed even more. His gaze wandered down to the long, thin scar left behind on his arm. "Sammy" had buried whatever spell he had tried for Dean deep before…. He had buried it so deep, Sam feared he'd never find it.

Placing a hand against the mirror, he studied his reflection much like he had when he was first turned into a child. Instead of reaching for the man this time, however…he tried grasping for the secrets of the boy who once resided within.

Had he saved his brother? Or was he still losing him?

"Sam," Dean growled at the empty bathroom. His brother knew he was supposed to wait for him. Overtaxed muscles had a hard time supporting sasquatches and Dean liked to be next to him when he walked more than a few feet in case his legs gave out. Like they had already. A few times.

"Damnit, Sam." He turned and started walking through the house. "Sam?" he called, searching as the fear slowly started to build. What if he had tried to go outside again? What if he had…

Dean was about to go into full blown Defcon One mode when he finally spotted him in the bedroom. Slowing his steps as the worry instantly fell away, he sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. God… He rolled his eyes at himself. He was acting like a first-time mother.

Walking to the doorway, he leaned against the doorframe. Shaking his head, a fond grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Sometimes, if it weren't for the gigantor body Dean'd swear….

"Squeaky clean?"

Curled up on the bed, Sam opened his eyes at his question. "Hmm?"

Huffing out a small breath, Dean looked down at his boots. He shook his head again, this time with a sad smile. "Nothin'." Then scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, he straightened. "Not much of a blanket anymore, is it?" he gestured at what lay over his brother, quick to change the subject—afraid of not hearing the response Sammy had given him what seemed like ages ago.

"Warm," Sam replied easily, closing his eyes.

Walking over, Dean sat on the bed in front of his bent legs. Sam was lying on top of the covers, but had Dean's leather jacket pulled over him. It didn't cover him entirely or swamp him like it had for a week, of course—something that became startling clear when Dean helped his shivering body back into it before stumbling out of the caves. "Miss your binky, did ya?" he asked, reaching over and checking for fever, happy to find none.

"Too tired to untuck the covers," the recently re-sasquatched mumbled unphased, not bothering to open his eyes. The kid…man…nah, kid¸ slept a lot, especially since the cramps had eased off. He slept a lot, a lot.So much so, that sometimes Dean swore he had traded a Frisbee wielding warrior princess for a narcoleptic sasquatch.

Eyes still closed, his brother's brow furrowed, almost as if he had heard Dean's thoughts. "Was Missouri in the military?" he asked instead.

Dean looked down at the bed. You could bounce a coin off the sheets when the psychic was done with them. "Nothing would surprise me when it comes to that woman."

Sam grunted his agreement.

Dean gave a cursory tug on one of the corners. It didn't budge. "Huh," he mused. "Maybe she was part of that New Earth Army thing."

The corner of Sam's mouth turned up. "Staring at old goats?"

"Have you seen the evil looks she gives Bobby?"

Sam outright laughed this time, his bright eyes meeting Dean's for a moment before closing again—which Dean was grateful for because his own eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. He hadn't heard Sam, adult Sam laugh like that in way too damn long.

"Hey, Sam?" He watched as everything he breathed for took in his own blessedly unlabored breaths—his coughing having finally eased off too.

"Yeah," his big, little brother drawled sleepily.

"Don't you ever do that again."

For a week, Sam had practically lived in Dean's leather jacket. It was Sammy's security blanket, the cape that had given him his super powers, and it was a reminder to Sam that he wasn't alone in this. Though, even as it had filled him with a sense of unparalleled and never-to-be-spoken-of comfort and safety... it was also so heavy. Even now.

Lying under the protection of guardians present and past, hearing his big brother's demand, Sam wondered if it reflected the weight on the men's shoulders that have worn it. And how much of that weight was him?

"Sam?"

"I solemnly swear I will never get turned into a four-year-old again."

"Sam." Even with his eyes closed, he could hear the warning, the seriousness, the pleading in Dean's voice.

But it was a promise he could never make. Opening his eyes, he met his brother's…and they both knew the answer.

Really, Dean should have known better by now anyway. Asking, or demanding Sam not to worry him like that again, or pull stupid stunts that may or may not get him out of his deal—Sam still couldn't remember what spell he had tried in Bobby's bathroom—would get him nowhere.

If Dean had learned anything from the past week, it was that Sam was just as stubborn as he was at doing whatever it took to keep his brother safe.

Even as he looked on with worry, pride tugged at his heart. Sometimes it seemed like they grew up right in front of your eyes, didn't it?

Ducking his head, he grinned.

Sometimes literally.

"You, uh…" Rubbing absently at his brow, he cleared his throat and tried dislodging some of that worry—but most of it had been permanently built in since he signed his Big Brother card. Head still down, he glanced over at his younger…and now again, his much larger half. "People are gonna think we really have a sasquatch holed up in here if you don't shave soon." Of course, he hadn't shaved, or even needed to for over a week. Another day wouldn't hurt.

Sam was gracious enough to ignore Dean's continued rampant Big Brother Mode. "Uh huh."

"Well, at least you smell better." When a particular scent caught his senses, though, Dean straightened where he sat and raised an eyebrow at him. "You used the SpongeBob shampoo Missouri got you," he accused flatly. "Didn't you."

The corner of Sam's mouth turned up. "It smells like bubblegum."

Staring down at him in disbelief, Dean blinked. "You are such a girl." His eyes suddenly shot upwards. "Wait. We did add the sage, right?"

Sam pushed him with his legs, almost knocking him off the bed. "Jerk."

Instead of overflowing with goodbye like last time, the word was only weighted with affection... but it still cut straight to Dean's heart. He didn't know what he would have done if….

"Boooys!" Missouri called from the kitchen. "Lunch!"

Ignoring the voice in his head that said that he was actually the one acting like a big girl, Dean righted himself and gave his brother's legs a playful shove while returning the sentiment with a tight throat…and an enormously relieved heart. "Bitch."

"Ten bucks on the mutt."

The sky was blue, the sun was warm and Sam was doing a…Singer form of physical therapy. Poorly. Dean shook his head in dismay.

Watching the same scene next to him, Bobby asked seemingly out of nowhere, "Were you ever worried?"

Dean glanced sideways at him. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific there, Bobby." The past couple of weeks he's done nothing but.

"When Sammy…when he…died, or let go, or whatever…" He paused and Dean turned to him again. "Are you ever worried," he finally continued, searching for the words, "I dunno…that Sam has lost a piece of himself, or somethin'?"

Dean had, in fact, worried.

/ "Goodnight…Dean." /

But…he thought about how, like it has always been, Sam still preferred Dean's jacket to blankets. He thought about how he used the SpongeBob shampoo because he knew Dean would get a kick out of it, and how Dean was still the first thing Sam looked for when he opened his eyes.…

Dean watched as his gargantuan little brother was tugged around on his butt by Lazarus—both refusing to relinquish their hold on the Frisbee. His grin spread slowly, but reached deep and warmed a part of him, he didn't realize until then, that still needed it. "Nah."

Munchkin or Sasquatch. Sammy was Sammy.

The sky was blue, the sun was warm and Dean Winchester had his brother back. All of him. But he was about to lose his hard earned ten bucks. "Dude!" he yelled and brought his arms up from his sides in outraged disappointed. "Where the hells your cape?"

"Do you have the sudden urge to wear my jacket as a cape, or crawl into my lap and read a bedtime story?"

Sam gave him an exasperated look. "No, Dean. Now stop with the daily interrogations. I'm fine. It's been over a week. The reversal spell hasn't, nor will it ever wear off."

Dean eyed him skeptically for a moment. "Whatever you say, Samantha," then knelt down and started rummaging through his duffel for clean clothes.

Shaking his head, Sam sat on the couch and opened his laptop. They were all packed up and ready to head out when Dean thought he'd give the Impala an oil change before leaving Bobby's.

"Hey, did I ever tell you why I started calling you Samantha?" he asked as he stood.

"Dean!" Sam snapped, but not unkindly. "Shower!" he pointed towards the bathroom. The man was covered in grease and oil from the car.

Dean made a face. "Pushy-pants." Then pouted his way across the room.

Shaking his head with a huge grin, Sam turned back to his laptop and settled in to do some research.

Twenty minutes later, Dean called from the bathroom. "Hey, can you get my shaving kit?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam replied distractedly and got up to search his brother's bag on the floor. His fingers brushed against something hard, and brow furrowing, he pulled it out from under the clothes.

His expression softened as his fingers danced over the cow and the moon and the writing that spelled, "Goodnight, Moon." He had thought this memory was just a dream, but apparently it wasn't. And Dean had kept the book. Tears filled his eyes.

Something fell to the ground from between the pages and Sam automatically reached down to retrieve it. Upon seeing what it was, however, his fingers snatched them up furiously. "Deaaan!" he hollered.

Blue jeans on, tooth brush in his mouth and wet hair sticking out every which way, Dean peaked sideways out of the bathroom with a look of confusion on his face. "What?"

Sam held up the pictures and Dean choked on the toothbrush. Disappearing into the bathroom again, Sam heard the water run before his brother reappeared with a black t-shirt on.

"Tell me you're not seriously planning on keeping these." Sam clenched his jaw. They were pictures from his…downsized week. He flipped through them to find Xena poses and various other ones of him running around acting like an idiot. There was even one where he had a Fruit Loop up his nose while sleeping. He slowed when he came across a few with him on Dean's shoulder. Bobby must have snapped them without either of them knowing. He stopped on the one after he had finally gotten Dean down. They were both lying on the ground, looking at each other with huge stupid grins on their faces. Sam couldn't help the smile that met his own lips. He flipped to the last picture. It was another of him and Dean. They were lying on the couch. Sam…Sammy was on Dean's stomach, covered by the leather jacket and they were both fast asleep. Goodnight,Moon peaked out from under the couch from where it must have fallen.

"You're not gonna kick me in the shins again, are you?"

Sam huffed a laugh and sniffing, blinked back the tears. "Nah," he placed the pictures back in the book. As humiliating and even life-threatening as the week had been…it wasn't without its good memories. And those were worth keeping. "Just as long as they don't end up on Facebook." He slid the book back inside his brother's duffle.

Dean raised his eyebrows worriedly. "Does Bobby know how to use Facebook?"

"I doubt he even knows what Facebook is."

Dean shot a finger off at him. "Then I think we're safe."

Sam nodded, a shy smile playing across his lips. "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah," his older brother replied distractedly, placing the duffle on the couch. He still needed to find his shaving kit.

"Thanks, ya know…" Sam shrugged self-consciously. "For not giving up."

"Aw, squeaks," Dean gushed mockingly.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Just out of curiosity," Dean asked a moment later, "what was one of the first things you thought when you were finally a sasquatch again?"

Sam's face scrunched up as he thought. "Mamabear, what happened to your lap?"

Now Dean's face was scrunched up. Sam laughed. "Never mind." Dean did it. "Nothing I already didn't know."

Accepting his answer with a nod, Dean turned back to his duffle. Finally finding his shaving kit, he pulled it out.

"Just…out of curiosity," Sam parroted back before his brother could disappear into the bathroom again, "what would you have done if you couldn't turn me back?"

"Aw, Sammy, you'll always be my sasquatch."

"Dean." Sam rolled his eyes again, but couldn't help the small grin that tugged at his lips. "Seriously, what would you have done?"

The older brother thought on it for a second. "Gotten you a pea shooter and a harness?"

"Dude." Sam paused, face twisting. "Wait. A harness? For what?"

Dean gave him a 'well duh' look in return. "To strap you onto my back. I would have strapped you on backwards too, so it'd be like I had eyes in the back of my head." He nodded enthusiastically, but the nod slowed and his face fell at the look on Sam's. "You are gonna kick me in the shins now."

"Well," Sam reminded him with a sage grin, "I did bring you down when I was only three-and-a-half feet tall."

Giving his best, 'Oh,is that how it's gonna be' face, Dean tossed his shaving kit onto the couch. "Bring it on, squeaks." He taunted with his hands. "Though, I don't see any conveniently placed rocks in here, so…"

A cacophony of noises sounded from the living room before a loud, surprised squeal echoed across the salvage yard. The backdoor flung open and Sam bolted down the steps.

"Hey!" Dean appeared a second later, hopping on one foot as he tugged on his boots. "Tickling is cheating!" he hollered. "Sam!" he ran after his laughing sasquatch of a little brother. "Saaammyyy!"

Sam pulled away from Bobby's tight embrace. "Don't go gettin' yourself turned into a poodle or anything," the older hunter warned.

Sam laughed. "I won't." He then turned to Missouri who had tears in her eyes and a basket of food in her grasp. "Now don't you go lettin' your brother eat all of this." She gestured down at the basket, trying to keep her tone light. "There's plenty for the both of you for at least a few days." She handed the basket to him and promptly pulled him into a fierce hug.

"Thanks," he said hugging back. He didn't know where he'd be if it weren't for her and Dean and Bobby.

And Dad.

Missouri pulled from the embrace and cupped the side of his face. "Don't you be a stranger now, ya hear?"

He smiled. "We won't."

It had been over two weeks since the hobyah had turned Sam, and he and Dean were eager to get back on the road and just…be for a little while. No major hunts, just a ghost here, or a vampire there to start them back into the swing of things.

Sam, of course had already continued his search for a way to save Dean from his deal, but as each day passed, he was filled more and more with the unfamiliar feeling that everything would be okay. He didn't know why…if it was because of the spell he had performed when he was downsized, or what, but…he just knew.

He turned to look where Dean was leaning against the Impala, legs crossed, head down, waiting for him after saying his own goodbyes. Yeah. Something in Sam's heart unclenched. He just knew.

With one last smile, Sam started towards his brother and a future he had much more confidence in.

Dean sensed his approached and smiled a smile that never, in twenty-four years, failed to make Sam feel like he was the most important thing in his big brother's world. He smiled a little brother's hero worshipping smile right back at him.

And Dean's smile grew.

His big brother then nodded, gesturing behind Sam as he uncrossed his legs and straightened. "You really think it's a good idea to leave those two alone together?"

Full on dimples, Sam turned around. "My money's on Missouri."

Dean canted his head to the side in agreement as he opened the driver's side door. "And all she'd have to do is stare at him."

Once they were in the car, Dean immediately took the basket Missouri had given Sam. Opening the lid, he gave an appreciative sniff before placing it on the backseat. The way his brother shifted in his own seat caused him to tense. It was the, I-have-something-I-wanna-get-off-my-chest shift. He was about to tell his brother just to spit it out already when…

"I remember."

Dean barely heard the softly spoken words as he settled behind the wheel, but somehow he knew it wasn't the spell he was talking about. Somehow he knew, with an aching heart, what, or actually who Sam was talking about, but the evasive reply was out of his mouth before he could stop it. "Remember what?" He wasn't even sure until now that Sam had remembered him. There were a few times in the past week where he almost brought him up, but …maybe Dean was still processing himself.

Head down, Sam smiled. "Dad," he said gently, then turned to stare out the passenger window.

Dean's heart skipped a beat at the confirmation.

"He uh…" Sam surprised Dean by laughing. "I think…I remember bits and pieces and…I think he played tic-tac-toe in the dirt with Sammy."

Painful grip on his heart loosening, Dean's eyebrows rose. "Our dad?"

"Yeah."

"Played tic-tac-toe," he repeated incredulously.

Sam's smile grew as he looked to Dean. "Yeah."

Puzzled, Dean shook his head minutely. "Did he make you do laps for losing?"

"Actually, he let me…Sammy, whatever," he rolled his eyes, "win."

"Our dad?"

Sam just continued to smile at him.

"Huh." A thoughtful look spread across Dean's face as he turned the engine over. "Can a spirit be possessed by Danny Tanner?"

Sam laughed and shaking his head in amazement, Dean placed the car in drive.

From the porch, Missouri and Bobby watched them drive off, their hearts following.

"You know, don't you." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. For two days now she could sense an extra burden on his shoulders. "You figured it out."

Bobby sighed. "Yeah," he answered grimly.

Watching as the boys pulled out onto a long stretch of road, Missouri waited for him to continue.

The man that considered himself a surrogate father to the boys swallowed hard, preparing to speak aloud for the first time something he'd much, much rather forget. "The spell Sam did was called, The Spell of the Bonded—some sort of binding spell that amplifies an already existing bond." He shook his head, worry dark in his eyes having already filled his heart. "Sam must have misunderstood it. The spell won't keep Dean at Sam's side here on earth. It's more like a beacon. Sam will always just know, feel exactly where Dean is."

Missouri let the significance of what he was saying wash over her. She could only stand there…as it stole her breath away.

"If I didn't know better…" Bobby continued a moment later, his voice impossibly thick with helplessness and worry. "If I didn't know any better…I'd say the spell was pointless. That all it would be for Sam was a daily reminder. That, considering what he was going through at the time…the boy…he didn't know what he was doin'."

Wind teased Missouri's hair as they watched the brothers speed further and further from their sight and protection. "But we know better," she replied almost regretfully, "Don't we."

"Yeah," he answered hoarsely, heart breaking all over again. "Yeah, we do."

The boys would follow each other anywhere.

Even to hell.

"Leave the light on, Bobby," she said as the Impala faded beyond the horizon and dust settled in their wake. "Those two are gonna need the road home lit."

The end.

I do have a short story that will go with this verse that deals with the spell Sam did. I also have a few pages of extra scenes I took out throughout the story that I felt messed with the flow. …but I liked the scenes so I kept them. If anyone is interested, I could post a large chapter of all the cuts.

Also, a pdf file with art! will be available soon. Once up, it can be found on my lj.

Thanks again!

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