A/N: Here we go. The final chapter.

February 3rd, 2003

In the months after Cassie left him, Dean could not stop hearing the things she'd said to him. It was as though they were on repeat in his mind, a cassette tape with no endpoint, hell-bent on haunting him forever. Do something for you, she'd said. You've given up your dreams for your dad. You've given up your brother for him.

And when Dean thought about it, really thought about it, he realized that he had: he had given up college, high school, being a kid, all so that he could fly under the radar of his father's anger and keep Sammy safe and happy.

And then he'd had to give that up, too.

Months of back and forth, months of a torn conscience, finally led Dean to this final point: standing, shivering, in front of Lawrence City High School at age twenty four, about to take a final exam and get his GED.

It wasn't a lot. In the long run, it wouldn't mean anything career-wise, and it wouldn't change the way he lived his life.

But it was something for him.

And that was enough.

March 3rd, 2003

When he drove back down to Lawrence, one month later, to collect his scores, Dean tore open the envelope eagerly, skimmed the papers, and smiled. He had passed with a 92 percent.

His smile dimmed a little when he thought about showing it to Sam, about how he wanted so badly to be able to do that. He wanted his little brother to be proud of him, too. But he couldn't call him, couldn't text him, couldn't go see him.

In a fit of anger the night Sam left for college, Dean had deleted Sam's contact from his phone.

He was too prideful to ask for it back from anyone.

Now, he folded the papers up and put them in his pocket, determined not to let the joy of his success be brought down by the circumstances. He had done this. He had done this. For himself.

And damn, it felt good to know that he was capable of something, anything other than killing.

2004

Dean worried about John, often, in the year that followed. In other years, the older man had been fixated on finding whatever killed Mary and destroyed their lives, true, but not to this extent. John wasn't sleeping, was barely eating, was scribbling frantic notes on every pad of motel stationery that he could find.

One night, deep in the throes of a snowy January, John raised his fist against Dean for the first time in nearly a decade when the younger man told him to take a break, to slow down. The older man paused before the blow could hit, though, leaving his fist frozen in midair.

Abuse is harder when your victim can look you in the eyes, it turns out.

Dean hunted on his own more often, staying away for up to three weeks at a time. The independence was liberating; for once, he was doing things his own way, developing his own style, loving his job.

Underneath, though, there was still all of the hurt. Always the hurt.

Always the feeling that he had failed Sam in one way or another, not taking care of him well enough or in the way he deserved. Always the worry that he would never see his brother again, never talk to him about stupid things on another summer day, never argue with him one more time.

There was always, always, always the hurt.

And so John worked and drank himself into a fierce mania, and Dean worked and drank himself into almost forgetting, each slowly letting the year ebb and flow itself away as they criss-crossed the country.

By the end of the year, Dean realized that they were hunting for distractions more than they were hunting for monsters.

Because it never gets easier, missing the people you love.

And the Winchesters knew that better than anyone.

September 13th, 2005

When he discovered that John had gone missing - no note, no voicemail, nothing - , just as the Kansas leaves were turning golden and starting to fall, it took Dean less than a minute to throw a bag in the car and start burning rubber all the way to California.

He had to spend the entire drive listening to Metallica.

Upon his arrival, it took him a precious hour of near-frantic searching to track down someone on the Stanford campus who knew Sam. Then, he had to convince them that yes, he really was his brother and yes, this really was a family emergency.

The apartment building he was sent to, in the end, was decent, and Dean wondered, as he climbed out of the Impala and slammed the door, if maybe Sam was doing well. If maybe he had built himself a better life than the one he left behind.

That thought hurt more than it should have.

The back door was unlocked - careless mistake - so the tall young man slipped in and started up the stairs, entrenched in darkness. When Sam came at him - still on his guard, that's good -, Dean blocked and hit and struck in all the ways that he knew wouldn't hurt until he, never one to be bested, had Sam flat on his back on the floor.

"Whoa, easy tiger," he said with a half-smile, peace drifting through him despite the circumstances. Or maybe because of the circumstances. He couldn't tell; all he knew in that moment was that he had his brother back.

He had him back.

After all of the heartbreak and the laughter and the pain and the adrenaline rush that was the past four years and every moment they had had together before that, they were together again. Dean felt unstoppable.

He felt home.

"Dean?" Sam asked, incredulous and on the verge of laughter.

The older boy cracked a full grin and flicked his brother's cheek. "Miss me?"

Because I missed you.

Fin

"So what's it all add up to? It's hard to say. But me, I'd say this was a test... for Sam and Dean. And I think they did all right. Up against good, evil… they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point? No doubt - endings are hard. But then again... nothing ever really ends, does it?" -Chuck Shurley, "Swan Song"

A/N: September 13th, 2005, is the first time that the Supernatural Pilot episode aired. In other news, so many thank yous go out to all of you - for reading, for reviewing, for encouraging. You have no idea how much it means to me, and I hope that in some way, this story was able to mean something to you. It's been cool, guys. Until next time.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and any of the canonical stuff in here. I just took what the writers gave us and ran with it. In conclusion, please don't sue me, for I am poor.