Hello everybody! Guess what? LAST CHAPTER! Yay…I hope it doesn't disappoint my awesome readers *wink*! Thanks so much reviewers, you know I love you. Although personal replies were few for the last chapter because I've been SO busy lol. But I thank everyone dearly! It's been fun! But I'll be writing again soon, so no worries. Anyways, here it is! Happy reading!

-Punkin

Sam couldn't decide if he was hot or cold. Everything was just…mixed together. Light and dark, sound and smell, colors swirling and swirling behind eye lids he wasn't sure were open or closed. He could hear frantic voices, ice creeping across his skin, hands on his face, arms, and chest.

But it didn't make sense.

Nothing made sense. Where am I again?

Bobby's! He was at Bobby's because he'd thought he was dead, but he wasn't. Why is that again? Flashes of the hunt flitted through his mind, memories of claws swiping…of Dean yelling…of ropes snapping.

But he wasn't even sure if that had actually happened. It was obvious he was sick…or delirious…or something! So what was real? And what wasn't real?

"Sam? Sammy? You've got to calm down, man!"

Dean!

But the voice was distant, echoing and bouncing in a surreal manner. More ice pressed against his forehead, shivers racking down his frame, leaving goose bumps in their wake. And then color seemed to blur into an actual face. A face mere inches from his own, scruffy, worn, and desperate.

But it was all off…abdomen burning in a way that distracted all attention from anything else. Ringing strummed inside his ears, fading with each breath pulled into rattling, greedy lungs. But sound worked its way through, distorting and buzzing like a swarm of angry bees.

He'd never particularly liked bees. Wow…I really am delirious.

"Cas, hold this!" A moment's pause, "Now!"

Castiel?

Then that familiar and deep voice, forever monotonous to those who heard it, but so intense it was compelling. "Dean…" was that hesitation? "Perhaps-"

"Look, if there's nothing you can do to help Sam than I really don't want to hear it! Now move your angel ass!" And even in the half conscious, feverish state he was in, Sam could still tell when his older brother used his 'end of argument' tone. But it was so Dean that it made him want to laugh, because he hadn't heard those words directed at anyone other than himself for weeks.

But the ice was back again, sound fading once more, his name said maybe a few more times. He couldn't answer though, words catching with air that seemed determined to elude him. And then he was hot again, heat scorching, spreading and flowing through veins and blood he could swear he actually felt pumping.

"-ammy? Hey, come on, Sam?" He could hear cursing, wheels scratching on worn wood, and the softer, calmer tones of Bobby's comforting.

But Dean apparently wasn't having any of it, "Cas! Hurry up with the ice!" And then mumbles of something a lot like 'of all the times for an angel to be fucking slow.'

But Sam was drifting…floating again…because he still couldn't decide if he was dreaming or not…if he was seeing or not. And really, why did everyone seem so upset? He was just tired…so very tired.

Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't had a fitful night's rest in years, or that he hadn't eaten properly in a while, or maybe it was just that he felt like shit. But Sam was cold again…and hot again, so the only thing he could decide was that he was entirely exhausted…

12.12.12

The fever broke at exactly 3: 27 A.M. the next morning. Bobby knew because Dean had been practically glued to his little brother's side since they'd crashed onto his living room floor in a giant tangle of arms and legs, blood and dirt.

God he'd been pissed.

Because this shouldn't have happened…and could have been so easily prevented! But one look into Dean Winchesters dulled, grief brimmed eyes and Bobby hadn't the heart to prolong his boiling anger, and was merely grateful Castiel had found them in time.

Because he'd never seen Dean this upset…not since cold oak.

And if Bobby thought that the moment he'd approached those two boys on that muddy, godforsaken street had been the one occasion he'd seen Dean so completely broken, then he was wrong.

Because when his vision had cleared, Castiel's steady hands keeping him planted safely in his chair, the sight that greeted him was all tears and sobs, frantic fingers searching for a pulse and pushing over and over again at brown bangs.

Flash… "I'm s-sorry! Sorry…"

And Bobby still wasn't sure who exactly the poor man had been apologizing to.

Maybe no one.

Maybe everyone.

Because if anyone shouldered as much blame as they possibly could, it was Dean Winchester, who always seemed to remain standing under even the heaviest weight.

But this…well this had brought him to his knees. And Bobby wouldn't make it worse, because Dean's eyes appeared to be open again, appeared to be seeing what was right in front of him again!

Pointin' more fingers ain't gonna help nobody right now.

Besides, Dean had taken charge. Bobby was all too happy giving the steering wheel back to him because that man was good at his job, being a big brother. And even though days looked darker and darker, forces beyond their control still pushing and pulling at them, Bobby knew that that would never change.

Because Dean hadn't looked up from that bed for hours. And while Castiel still seemed at a loss with how to handle such an emotional situation, all it made Bobby want to do was smile.

"Dean?"

And movement…beautiful movement for the first time in forever. And Bobby could suddenly exhale again, not realizing he'd been holding his breath for so long

The older Winchester was on his feet and leaning over in an instant, amulet dangling from his neck to hover centimeters above Sam's collar bone, eyes searching for awareness that had been fleeting the younger man in his fever riddled state. But Sam was already smiling, tired eyes focusing with clarity.

"Hey man…it's about time. How are you feeling?" And years of experience made Bobby able to identify the undertones of 'thank god you're awake.' He knew Sam heard it as well because the smile only got bigger.

"Like I got mauled by a Wendigo." Sam swallowed, struggling to sit up, "How long have I been out?"

But Dean was frantically pushing him back down, "Whoa, I don't think so, you are NOT ruining all our hard work."

Sam sighed, blinking harshly as if it disagreed with him to have his eyes open for so long. Bobby frowned, noting the sheen of sweat on his forehead. "You didn't answer me."

Dean's hand hovered on his little brother's shoulder; as if afraid the man would disappear under his very touch. Bobby's stomach twisted sickeningly as that had very nearly been the truth…

"It's been about two days; you've been kind of in and out of it." Dean's voice lingered just above a whisper, eyes dropping guiltily to the floor as he slowly sat down, as if steeling himself for the conversation ahead.

And Bobby urged the boys with his mind…because he just hated elephants in the room. And Sam needed this…Dean needed this. "Look, Sammy…we need to talk."

His eyes took in the way Sam nervously swallowed, jaw line tightening as his fingers brushed across his bandaged stomach. And suddenly, Bobby felt like he wasn't even there, merely an observer of events he had no business dabbling in.

But god damn it, he wasn't going to miss this.

"I-I know I've been an ass." Understatement…but Bobby obediently remained silent, fingers gripping tightly on the arms of his wheel chair. Dean shook his head, "I'm just…I'm sorry Sammy. I'm so sorry for not listening to you…for not trusting you when you deserved to be trusted…for not-are you laughing at me?"

And Sam indeed was, Bobby staring in confused amusement as he watched the boy try to stifle his chuckles beneath quite coughs without much success. Dean's mouth gaped for a moment, much like a fish, in evident disbelief, dark eyes flickering somewhere between anger and bafflement.

"I-uh-I'm sorry dude, but you suck at apologies." Wide, hazel eyes gazed upward at his older brother, something shining there that Bobby hadn't seen in quiet awhile. Traces of happiness. Happiness from a soul who not hours before had been thrashing in the throes of fevered delirium, nonsense words spilling from his mouth.

And then Bobby was smiling too, because he saw Sam's interruption for what it was. That man had already forgiven his brother and now was readily taking some of the load off Dean's shoulders by making it easier for him.

Understanding seemed to dawn on Dean's face, mouth snapping shut at his little brother's antics and feet beneath him as he pushed up from his chair, "Fine then, that is the LAST time you'll ever hear me say 'I' and 'sorry' and 'Sam' in the same sentence ever again."

But Sam's eye lids were fluttering, lips turning at the edges as he seemed to sink back against the bed, poor kid, can't even stay awake to witness his brother throw a fit. "Sure, Dean…I'll keep that in mind." Voice drifting…softening…fading.

Dean ran a hand still crusted with blood through his disheveled hair, green orbs relentlessly burning, "Oh, you go right ahead and…hey! Don't you dare close your eyes on me! Sam!"

But Sam apparently wasn't listening, breathing evening out as curled fingers opened, white palms facing the ceiling. And then Bobby was snickering, for the first time making his presence really known in the room, Dean's furious gaze boring into him from where he still stood beside his sleeping brother, shocked.

Bobby made no effort to disguise his laughter, simply smiling from under the visor of his hat up at the stunned man. "Can you blame him, Dean? You were practically putting me to sleep too."

For a few more moments he remained motionless, green eyes unseeing, and then slowly, ever so slowly, a smile crept across stoic features, brow line softening as white teeth shone against the steadily growing beard.

And for the first time in awhile, Bobby felt that things would be alright. They were a long ways from being in the least terms 'okay', but they all were pointed in the right direction and he knew they eventually would be. Because Sam was sleeping, Dean was smiling, and didn't that just sound normal?

The sound of Castiel's voice drifting from the open doorway, however, interrupted them, both pairs of eyes shooting over to discover the angel standing with a puzzled blue gaze, "Did I miss something important?"

The End!

There it is…always fun to end on a humorous note haha! I just love Castiel *huge, annoying smile*