Dean shook his head as the reality of what was happening sank in – that Crowley had used Dean's voice to lure Sam to the warehouse; that Sam was only coming because of his loyalty to Dean; that if Crowley and Benny had their way, Sam would be dead within minutes of arriving.

The threat of that objective hung in the air; both demon and vampire clearly pleased with themselves and practically buzzing with anticipation of their plan finally being complete.

That Sam would be dead and Dean would be theirs to further manipulate without the annoying hindrance of an overly inquisitive little brother constantly interfering.

As if it would be that easy to kill one Winchester and then control the other.

Dean shook his head again; feeling the heat of anger burn through his system even as his heart hammered in his chest with dread and fear.

Because nothing could happen to Sam.

Out of everything that had changed over the years – and especially over the past year – that mantra had remained the same.

Nothing could happen to Sam...especially not because of Dean.

Yet it seemed both of those conditions were about to be violated, and the resulting threat ignited something long forgotten within Dean – the purely primal instinct to do whatever it took to protect Sam.

It was Dean's default setting...and it felt surprisingly good.

Dean twitched a smile, feeling strangely energized and focused at the reminder of what really mattered in his life – Sam – and clenched his jaw as a fresh wave of determined anger washed over him.

Because the two supernatural dicks standing across from him would not be killing his kid brother – not on his watch – and they would no longer be controlling him like a puppet, either.

Brand or no brand, that was over.

Dean would find a way out of this; out of this warehouse and out of this deal...and he would be taking his brother with him – his real brother.

Dean glanced at his sleeve-covered arm – visualizing Benny's binding mark burned into his skin beneath the fabric – and then directed his attention back to the demon and vampire.

Crowley arched an eyebrow at Dean's intense gaze. "Something on your mind, cowboy?"

Dean ignored the nickname. "This isn't Sam's fight," he sharply pointed out instead; the statement feeling oddly traitorous since any fight that was his was automatically Sam's...and vice versa.

But that detail didn't matter now.

Not when he was arguing for Sam's life.

"You've got me," Dean reminded, vaguely gesturing toward his arm as his gaze flickered between the demon and vampire. "Fine." He shrugged as if it didn't bother him. "Take me," he continued, sounding resigned to that fate. "But leave Sam out of this."

There was a beat of silence.

Crowley and Benny glanced at each other.

There was another beat of silence before Crowley finally spoke. "Good speech," he praised dryly, like an unimpressed critic. "Sparse words but deep emotions. I felt it right here," he told Dean, patting his chest and failing to hide his patronizing smirk.

Benny chuckled.

Dean glared, barely suppressing the urge to release his arsenal of F-bombs and Purgatory-trained justice. "Leave Sam out of this," he repeated, channeling his little brother's patience as he graciously allowed the demon and vampire one last chance to do as they were told.

"We heard you the first time," Crowley remarked distractedly, motioning for the lesser demon across the warehouse to come forward.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the potential threat approaching from behind and frowned at the weapon the demon was carrying; vaguely wondering where it came from but instantly recognizing a machete when he saw one.

Dean swallowed, his fingers twitching in anticipation as he watched the demon draw closer; sensing the weapon wasn't intended to be used on him but still inwardly preparing for that scenario; knowing he could grab the demon-killing knife from his boot within seconds and then light up one of Hell's minions in even less time.

But as expected, the demon passed by him with hardly a glance.

Dean's frown deepened as the demon crossed to Benny.

"Sir," the demon formally addressed and offered the machete to the vampire, balancing the weapon between his two upturned hands.

Benny nodded but said nothing.

Crowley did the same.

Dean narrowed his eyes as the vampire then removed his coat and cap before accepting the remarkably long knife brought forth in ceremonial fashion; the garments exchanged for the weapon as the demon nodded his respect and then stepped to the side; setting the clothes on an overturned box and awaiting his next order.

There was silence.

But the unspoken threat to Sam, the apparent intention hung in the air.

"I wouldn't worry too much about your brother," Crowley advised Dean, like a therapist dispensing wisdom to his neurotic patient. "Sam will be out of this soon enough," he assured and glanced at Benny.

The vampire nodded his agreement along with his understanding of his role in taking Dean's brother out of the equation before glancing at Dean and smiling.

"What do you think you're gonna do with that?" Dean coldly challenged, watching Benny fondly stroke the blade as if it was an old friend.

Benny's smile widened. "I think you know."

And Dean did.

He knew exactly what Benny intended to do with the machete he currently held; knew without a doubt whose blood the vampire wanted.

But no fucking way was that going to happen.

No fucking way were they going to ambush his brother.

No fucking way was Sam going to bleed out on a dirty warehouse floor.

Not tonight.

Not because of these assholes.

And not because of Dean's lapse in judgment.

Sam was not dying.

No. Fucking. Way.

Dean shook his head at the implied threat to Sam; feeling his earlier anger return tenfold. "Oh, hell no..." he growled, feeling the rush of adrenaline along with the rage of a big brother.

Benny smirked as Dean took a step forward.

But that was as far as Dean got before finding himself abruptly swept off his feet and hurled across the warehouse; his body slamming into the concrete wall and then remaining there, held in place by Crowley's demonic powers.

"Stay," Crowley commanded, once again addressing Dean like a dog. "Good boy."

Dean glared and struggled against the invisible force that held him. "Why?" he demanded, continuing to writhe in place as his feet dangled above the floor. "Why kill Sam now when you've had all year to do it?"

"Well, two reasons..." Crowley began reasonably, as if he had expected that question. "First, it's no fun to kill Sam if you're not around to watch. And second, as long as Sam's alive, you'll never be completely loyal to anything else."

Benny nodded his agreement.

Because even though he had a certain amount of control over Dean through the piece of himself he had left behind in the hunter, Benny could still feel the pull of Dean's loyalty and love for his brother.

Even though Dean had been resentful and pissed at Sam since his return, the younger brother had still been able to attract Dean's focus...and that was especially true now.

Benny could feel the change that had occurred within Dean since Dean's arrival at the warehouse; could feel Dean's reignited purpose as a hunter and as a big brother; could feel Dean's renewed preoccupation with protecting Sam.

And a distracted soldier was a worthless soldier.

...which meant the object of Dean's distraction had to be eliminated.

It wasn't personal.

It was business.

Benny twitched a smile at the rationalizing thought; because maybe it was a little personal...

After all, Sam had always been the one who had gotten away, thanks to Lenore several years back.

But the youngest Winchester would not get away a second time.

Benny would see to that.

The vampire smiled with anticipation as he glanced at Dean, not surprised to see the hunter glaring at him from across the warehouse.

"If you hurt him – "

" – Relax," Benny soothed, interrupting whatever threat Dean was about to growl. "He won't feel a thing. I'll make it quick," he promised. "Kill others as they would kill you. That's what I always say..." the vampire commented, swinging the blade through the air to imitate slicing off Sam's head. "He won't even know what hit him."

Like that was supposed to make it better.

"You sonuvabitch!" Dean spat, continuing to struggle as he remained pinned against the wall by Crowley's powers.

Benny shook his head at Dean's useless efforts to break free. "Relax, brother," he soothed once more.

Dean didn't respond; instead gritting his teeth as he strained against his invisible bonds.

"It's really quite simple," Crowley began as he came to stand in front of Dean. "You're in. Sam's out. And we all..."

The demon suddenly paused, tilting his head as he listened intently.

Because that's when they heard it – the unmistakable sound of a lock being picked; the quick, delicate tinkering echoing through the warehouse and attracting attention toward the backdoor.

Crowley and Benny exchanged glances.

"Well, I wonder who that could be..." Crowley mused as if he didn't have a clue and then chuckled.

Benny snorted his amusement as the doorknob continued to subtly rattle but didn't otherwise respond to Crowley's comment; instead crossing the warehouse to change his position.

Because the vampire wasn't picky; he could kill Sam at the backdoor just as easily as he could at the front.

It didn't matter as long as Sam was dead and Dean was theirs to fully manipulate.

Their plan depended on those two factors.

And the time was now.

Benny smiled, glancing at Dean as he raised his machete; planning to strike as soon as the door opened; intending to keep his promise about Sam never knowing what hit him.

Because Benny knew if he gave Sam a fighting chance, it would be his head rolling across the floor instead of Sam's.

And the vampire hadn't lived this long to die so predictably at the hands of a hunter.

Benny exhaled evenly, shifting his stance while keeping his focus on the door as he waited for Sam to enter.

But Crowley's focus was across the warehouse as he once again motioned for the lesser demon to come forward.

The demon nodded and quickly did as he was silently ordered, approaching Crowley and blinking expectantly as he waited for further instruction.

Crowley said nothing but glanced meaningfully at Dean.

The demon nodded again, indicating that he understood what was expected of him and seamlessly took over Crowley's hold on the hunter.

Dean shifted minutely, feeling the invisible force loosen for a fraction of a second during the switch between demons before tightening again.

The lesser demon smiled threateningly; nonverbally communicating that just because he wasn't as powerful as Crowley in other ways didn't mean his skills in this particular area weren't equally as strong.

"Good for you," Dean snarked at the demon and then cut his eyes at Crowley. "Going somewhere?"

"How observant of you..." Crowley remarked dryly and then more directly answered Dean's question. "Yes. I know how this story ends, so I'm going to cut out early and beat the traffic."

"You mean you're gonna save your ass," Dean corrected knowingly; his voice breathless as he continued to fight against the other demon's hold.

Crowley smiled. "I've got a fine ass."

Dean glared.

Benny ignored them; having only one focus – the door.

There was a beat of silence.

Then it happened.

The door's lock clicked as it was successfully turned back; the sound remarkably loud in the empty warehouse.

Crowley nodded his approval of Sam's handiwork before glancing again at Dean. "Ready or not, here he comes..." the demon sing-songed and then disappeared without further comment.

"And there he goes..." the lesser demon observed about Crowley's sudden departure, glancing around the warehouse as if he expected the King of Hell to be lurking in the rafters.

But Crowley was gone.

Dean snorted at the demon's typical exit; Crowley always thinking about himself first and others...never, especially when shit was about to hit the fan.

And although Crowley was confident his plan would turn out as it should, he couldn't risk being around if it didn't.

Dean sighed harshly – hating Crowley more than he ever had before – and then focused on Benny standing by the door.

The vampire winked.

The doorknob turned.

"This is the best part," the lesser demon quietly confided, directing his attention toward the backdoor of the warehouse like he was watching a movie.

"No..." Dean growled, straining against the force that continued to hold him against the wall. "Sam!"

"Shhh..." the lesser demon hissed, clearly irritated by Dean's outburst.

Dean didn't give a shit. "Sam!"

"Shhh..." the demon hissed again, keeping his focus on the door – not wanting to miss a single second of what was about to happen – but waving his hand at Dean to make sure the hunter didn't ruin the surprise.

Dean blinked as the muscles of his throat suddenly seized; feeling a brief wave of panic wash over him until he realized that he was still able to breathe...but not speak.

Fan...fucking...tastic.

Dean clenched his jaw in silent frustration, continuing to struggle from where he was pinned against the cold, hard wall...and feeling his heart hammer in his chest as Sam appeared in the doorway; the kid's left hand on the doorknob while his right arm hung behind him as he cautiously entered the warehouse.

"Hi-ya, Sammy..." Benny greeted, his tone politely menacing.

And that was the only warning Sam got before the vampire swung his machete.

But Sam was ready, easily ducking the attack and then rounding on Benny with a weapon of his own – an equally long and sharp blade held in his right hand.

Benny quickly sidestepped the assault and chuckled as Sam attempted to point the tip of the knife directly at his throat; his quiet laugh the begrudgingly impressed sound of one opponent appreciating the skills of another.

From across the warehouse, the lesser demon gasped his surprise at the unexpected turn of events while Dean twitched a smile.

Because this was the kid he had raised; the kind of kid who carried a machete with the same ease as most people carried a pocketknife.

And though Dean had no idea how Sam had known he was walking into a trap, he was incredibly thankful – and indescribably proud – that his brother had figured it out.

At least one Winchester had his head in the game and not up his ass these days.

Dean's smile faded at that self-admonishing thought; still pissed that he had allowed himself to end up in such a colossal cluster fuck.

But none of that mattered now.

What mattered was getting out of this warehouse alive.

Then he and Sam would figure out the rest later.

Together.

Dean felt a twinge of hope as Sam glanced in his direction; his brother's gaze visually triaging before flickering between him and the demon who held him against the wall; the kid instantly realizing Dean's situation and working out a solution.

"Well, well..." Benny drawled attracting Sam's attention. "The plot thickens."

And Benny vaguely wondered if this was part of the plan.

If Crowley had somehow set him up.

It wasn't a farfetched suspicion.

Benny narrowed his eyes as he and Sam began to circle each other; both hunter and vampire calculating their next move. "How did you know?"

Because Crowley had sounded just like Dean when he had called Sam; there was no way Sam had been able to tell the difference.

So how did Sam know to not only come to the warehouse armed but to come in swinging?

"How did you know?" Benny repeated, feeling the familiar creep of pissed paranoia.

Sam made no response; having no interest in explaining himself to a vampire...especially this vampire.

Benny shrugged as if Sam's silence didn't bother him. "Fine," he allowed. "Take your secret to the grave."

And with that, the vampire swung his machete once more; growling his annoyance when the blade sliced air instead of flesh, having forgotten how quickly Sam could move for a guy his size.

Sam shifted positions and ghosted a smile; his gaze once again flickering to Dean and then to the demon who held him before refocusing on Benny.

"In nómine Pátris..." Sam began, reciting perfect Latin as he continued to circle the vampire.

Benny arched an eyebrow at the unexpected exorcism. "Sorry, chief. Doesn't work on me..." he reminded with a smug chuckle, holding his knife at the height of Sam's neck.

Sam shook his head. "It's not meant for you," he coolly informed and then glanced across the warehouse; making eye contact with Dean as he continued in fluent Latin; the words strung together as they were spoken quick enough to accomplish the job before the target realized.

But Dean knew what his brother was doing and blinked his understanding of Sam's plan; feeling the invisible power over him gradually loosen as the demon began to cough black puffs of smoke.

"N-no..." the demon choked, clutching at his throat and doubling over even as he tried to resist the effect of Sam's words and maintain his hold over Dean.

But it was useless.

Within seconds, the demon's hold had completely released as he dropped to his knees under the crippling tide of Sam's words.

Dean did likewise, sliding down the warehouse wall and dropping to the dusty floor; landing in a heap and instantly grabbing the demon-killing knife tucked in his boot.

Sam smiled at their small victory, exchanging glances with Dean and knowing his brother would handle the rest as Dean lunged forward.

The demon barely had time to glance up before Dean was on him; yanking back his head by a handful of hair and plunging the demon-killing knife deep within his chest.

As usual with that particular weapon, the effect was instant – a brief flicker of light within the demon's body, followed by slight twitching in the final seconds of its pathetic existence.

Dean smiled wickedly as he held his position and watched the demon die before yanking the knife away and letting the demon's body drop to the floor; his smile lingering as he stared down at the lifeless meat suit; unnervingly excited to have killed something.

Sam frowned as he watched his brother from across the warehouse – always a bit disturbed when Dean looked that intense – and then refocused on Benny in time to see the vampire's machete once again swing in his direction.

Sam twisted his body sharply to the right to avoid the fatal attack and then hissed as the blade intended for his neck sliced through his bicep instead; the blade easily tearing through his shirt and coat before sinking into his soft flesh beneath.

Dean's attention instantly snapped to Sam, recognizing the sound of his brother in pain. "Sammy!" he yelled in reaction to seeing Sam's blood flow freely between the kid's fingers from where Sam had covered the wound with his opposite hand.

Benny chuckled. "The first cut is the deepest..." he quipped and swung the blood-stained blade once more; taking advantage of Sam's momentary stunned stillness to move in for the kill.

"Sam!" Dean called in warning, wincing as his arm began to burn; his muscles suddenly seizing in pain.

It was a familiar feeling.

Dean glared as he cradled his arm against his stomach, knowing exactly who was causing the pain...and the distraction – Benny.

Dean shook his head. "No..." he growled, clenching his jaw as he battled through the increasing pain. "Sam!" he called again, already in motion to cross the warehouse.

Sam startled at the urgency in Dean's voice and quickly released his hold on his injured arm; wiping his bloody palm across his jeans before transferring his weapon to his left hand; thankful – not for the first time – that John had always insisted that his sons could fight ambidextrously.

Not that the skill seemed to matter now as Benny effortlessly knocked the machete from Sam's grasp and then delivered a hard kick to the young hunter's chest.

Sam's breath was instantly gone as he fell backwards; landing jarringly hard on the concrete floor as his knife slid away from his reach.

Benny quirked a satisfied smile, feeling the rush of anticipated victory.

Sam blinked up at him; his expression panicked as he gasped for air while frantically pushing himself back across the floor in an attempt to stall Benny's attack.

Benny's smile widened. "I win," he announced smugly as he continued to advance on Sam, angling his arms in preparation to swing his machete and kill Dean's brother.

"No," Dean countered sharply, now standing within inches of the vampire.

Benny turned at the sound of Dean's voice; barely having time to realize what was happening.

"We win," Dean coldly corrected and swung the machete Sam had been holding a few seconds before; a shower of blood spraying forth as the blade sliced through flesh and bone.

Benny's head dropped to the floor with a wet thud as his body did the same; the head rolling a few bloody inches before stopping; the vampire's sightless eyes still open as they stared at the ceiling of the warehouse.

Dean exhaled harshly; his gaze lingering on Benny just long enough to confirm the vampire was indeed dead before turning to his injured brother still sprawled on the floor.

"Sammy..." Dean began, stepping forward to help the kid up. "Are you..." He paused, his voice fading as he winced. "Fuck..."

Sam frowned at Dean's outburst; the expression deepening when his brother closed his eyes in obvious agony. "Dean?"

Dean opened his eyes and grunted as crippling pain once again flared in his arm; the burning sensation only intensified as his muscles cramped.

"Shit..." Dean hissed and reluctantly dropped the blood-covered machete to grab his aching arm.

"Dean..." Sam called, concern in his voice as he covered his bleeding wound and sluggishly pushed himself to his feet; the pain in his own injured arm slowing his movements.

Dean glanced at Sam but said nothing as he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt.

Sam watched curiously, wondering if he had missed something. "What's wrong?" he asked and then scowled at the red, welted brand on his brother's arm. "What the hell is that?"

"Benny's mark," Dean explained bluntly and then shook his head when Sam opened his mouth to ask his inevitable questions. "I'll tell you later," he promised and then clenched his jaw as a fresh wave of pain burned through his arm; his skin actually sizzling briefly as the flesh was renewed.

In the next instant, the pain was gone...and so was the brand.

Benny's mark burned away in the wake of the vampire's death.

Both brothers blinked at the supernatural transformation and then looked at each other.

"Huh..." Dean mused, not sure how else to react.

"'Huh...'" Sam echoed and shook his head disapprovingly. "That's all you have to say?"

Dean shrugged, carefully rubbing his arm; feeling smooth skin and no pain. "I'll say more later," he told his brother, incredibly relieved to be free of his link to Benny. "But right now..."

Sam stubbornly sidestepped Dean's grasp. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, you look fine..." Dean replied dryly, frowning at the amount of blood saturating the sleeve of Sam's coat and still steadily seeping through his brother's fingers. "C'mere..." he called, once again reaching for the kid standing beside him.

Sam sighed but stepped closer to Dean, easing his hand away from the wound as his brother nudged his bloody fingers aside.

Dean narrowed his eyes, carefully moving the torn fabric of Sam's coat and shirt sleeve to better see the damaged flesh beneath.

Sam scrunched his face as his brother gently pressed against his skin.

"Definitely gonna need stiches," Dean announced and shook his head, feeling fresh rage swell in his chest at the vampire who had hurt his brother...but thankful it hadn't been worse.

Because Benny had wanted Sam's head...and had almost gotten it.

Dean swallowed at the thought and eased his hand away from Sam's wound; briefly wiping his blood-stained fingers across his jeans before focusing on his brother.

"Everything else good?" Dean asked, visually checking the kid for any unseen injuries.

Sam nodded. "I think so."

Dean returned the nod. "Good." He paused, glancing around the warehouse at the bodies of the demon and the vampire on the floor. "What d'ya say we get the hell outta here before Crowley comes back?"

Because while Dean wanted the King of Hell dead, he wasn't interested in killing the sonuvabitch tonight.

He had a little brother to patch up.

"Yeah," Sam agreed heartily, once again covering his wounded bicep with his opposite hand.

"Alright," Dean returned, crossing to collect the demon-killing knife and his machete before motioning for Sam. "Let's go..."

Sam nodded and crossed to Dean.

"Wait..." Dean warned, lightly holding his hand against Sam's chest as he cracked the backdoor of the warehouse and glanced out, checking for any potential dangers lurking in the shadows.

Satisfied that they wouldn't be ambushed, Dean nodded and released his hold on his brother; nonverbally giving his permission for Sam to continue on his way.

Sam quirked a smile – having forgotten how good it felt to have a big brother around – and walked past Dean out the door.

Dean glanced around the warehouse one last time before following; leaving behind the bodies of the demon and vampire and not caring who found them since he and Sam would be long gone by then.

"So..." Sam began as Dean walked beside him. "My car or yours?"

Dean snorted, because he could just imagine what piece of crap Sam had stolen from the motel's parking lot to drive to the warehouse. "Our car," he answered and smiled at his brother.

Sam smiled as well, hearing the hidden message loud and clear.

They walked in companionable silence.

Dean glanced at his brother. "How did you know?" he asked curiously, still wondering how Sam knew he was walking into a trap at the warehouse.

Sam shrugged. "He didn't say my name right."

Dean frowned. "What?"

"He didn't say my name right," Sam repeated before explaining further. "There's a certain way you say 'Sammy'. And Crowley sucks at trying to copy it."

Dean chuckled at Sam's critique even as a mixture of emotions swelled in his chest for the kid walking beside him; touched more than he would admit that Sam knew it wasn't him calling just by that simple detail.

"So, that's it?" Dean asked, visually scanning the alley beside the warehouse as they walked; making sure to keep Sam slightly behind him in case there was trouble up ahead. "That's how you knew it was a trap?"

"That's how I knew something was going on..." Sam replied and then cut his eyes at Dean, barely hiding a smile. "Do you think it's 'cause I'm so awesome?"

Dean snorted at the unexpected remark, remembering a time when he used to ask Sam the same question. "Nah," he responded and shook his head. "It's 'cause I'm so awesome." He paused and smiled. "'Bout time some of it rubbed off on you, though..."

Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean chuckled quietly.

They continued to walk.

"How's the arm?" Dean checked, glancing at his brother's blood-stained hand still covering his wound.

"Fine," Sam replied, even as his pinched expression said otherwise.

"Mmhmm..." Dean hummed knowingly but let the issue drop...for now.

But once they arrived back at the motel, it would be stitches and pain meds for little Sammy.

Dean twitched a smile; always amused when he caught himself thinking of the gigantic kid walking beside him as "little Sammy".

But little brothers would always be little brothers no matter how big they got.

Dean nodded his agreement.

"How's your arm?" Sam countered and cut his eyes at Dean.

Dean shrugged at the leading question, not interested in getting into that issue until later. "Fine."

Sam scowled. "Mmhmm..." he returned but also let the issue drop.

They continued walking; both brothers visibly relaxing when the Impala finally came into view a few feet ahead, patiently waiting beneath a streetlight.

Dean sighed, always relieved when he saw the Chevy just as he had left her. "There's my girl..."

Sam snorted good-naturedly but said nothing as they approached the Impala.

Their movements perfectly matched and in-sync as they both opened their doors and slid into their respective places on the bench seat.

"We're gonna talk about this, Dean," Sam informed, glancing at his brother as Dean tucked the demon-killing knife back in his boot and then stashed the machete beneath the seat.

Dean nodded. "I know," he responded, cranking the Impala's engine.

Because he wanted to talk about it; knew they both needed to lay their proverbial cards on the table about their year apart...just not right now.

Maybe after they were back at the motel; after Sam was stitched and settled...but not now.

"You know that talk includes your year, too..." Dean pointed out, staring at his brother intently. "If I gotta spill my shit, then so do you."

Sam smiled softly at Dean's description of their impending conversation and nodded. "Yeah," he agreed, his expression softening as though he had already forgiven whatever Dean had to confess.

Dean nodded. "Alright..." he replied and shifted the Impala's gears, checking his rearview before easing the Chevy away from the warehouse and back toward the motel.

Sam sighed and leaned his head against the passenger window; closing his eyes as he continued to hold his hand over his bleeding wound.

They rode in silence.

Several miles passed with Dean glancing at his brother every few seconds; knowing Sam was mostly fine but unable to stop himself from checking on the kid's condition.

Because it seemed some things never changed.

"I'm still the same guy, Dean..." Sam had assured his brother at Rufus's cabin.

And it seemed the kid was right.

Sam was still the same guy who had an endless capacity to forgive; who watched his brother's back no matter what; who loved Dean as much as Dean loved him.

And although Dean had sharply informed Sam at the cabin that he was not the same guy, it seemed he was wrong.

Because although Purgatory had inarguably transformed him, Dean was still the same guy who worried about his kid brother; who took care of Sam when he needed it; who protected him and loved him more than anything else.

While their year apart had changed them, they were still brothers...and they were still the same in the ways that truly mattered.

More importantly, they were together.

And Dean knew there was nothing that could stop them as long as they stayed that way.

FIN