A/N: Alrighty folks! This is the last chapter for this fic. *sad face* but, it's been a heck of a ride, guys. I hope that you have all enjoyed reading it. A big thanks to all those who have reviewed - I appreciated each and every one of them. :)

A/N#2: Cussing, swearing, same old, same old. Angsty!Boys are up to bat too. :p

Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. Kripke won't sell them :(

It was squeaky wheels of a cart being pushed down the hall that had pulled Sam out of sleep. He rolled his head to the other side and tried to find the energy to open his eyes. Dean had taken them to a hospital, of that Sam was sure of. If the antiseptic smell didn't give it away, the concrete like beds did. He did a mental check of himself, feeling bruises from head to toe. His face felt tight, and could only assume his face had been stitched up. His chest felt like a granite slab was resting on it, and could feel the rough texture of bandages wrapped tightly around his ribs as he shifted his weight. Hmm… now that he was sure he was going to survive, where was…

"Sam?"

Ah, there he was. Trying now, Sam rolled his head in Dean's direction, managing to pry his eyes open long enough to catch a glimpse of a blurry, but scruffy looking Dean.

"Mmkay." Was about the most intellectual thing Sam could come up with at the present moment. Dean laughed next to him, the sound of chair legs hitting the floor as Sam felt more than saw Dean move out of his chair to stand next to his bed.

"You ready to see the world on the other side of your eyelids now? Cause there's this nurse, Nancy I think, and her legs man, they are to die for." Sam attempted to roll his eyes, a little difficult when they were only half opened in the first place. Figures Dean would scout the local hotties first.

"What happened?" Sam asked, his voice dry and husky from disuse. A cup of water appeared in his line of vision and Sam took it gratefully and relished in the feel of cool water soothing his sore throat. Handing the cup back to Dean, he waited for an answer as Dean settled back in his chair. Dean checked the area visually to make sure no one was around before answering.

"Well, after you got rid of those demons and collapsed, I hauled ass and got us far enough away before I started looking for a hospital. You were still unconscious, and your face man, I mean, I'm good with sutures, but I wasn't going to leave you looking like Frankenstein for the rest of your life. So they fixed you up, and I've been waiting for your lazy ass to get up since." Dean answered, now playing with a hole in his jeans and picking the threads apart.

"How long have we been here? Did you get yourself checked out?" Sam asked, wondering why Dean was quiet all of a sudden.

Looking up at Sam, Dean pulled back his shirt sleeve and checked his watch. "About… 16 hours now. And dude, I'm fine. My shoulder and back are a nice shade of black and blue, but I'll be fine. Nothing Nancy couldn't handle." A devilish smirk, but one that did not reach his eyes. Sam frowned. 16 hours? He'd been out that long? It still didn't explain why he was still so tired. He'd guess that he'd used just too much energy, that his abilities had essentially drained him and recovery was taking longer than it had in the past. He'd never pushed himself that hard before.

Really looking at his brother, Sam was growing concerned. Dean wasn't acting normal, or rather normal for Dean. He was withdrawn and quiet, which was not like him. Trying to reach out to his brother, Sam's hand knocked something onto the floor. Dean reached down and picked it up, and Sam saw the holy water flask that Dean carried with him on person at all times. Clarity struck Sam like a wreaking ball, now knowing why the water had been there before he asked. Oh, now didn't this make a horrible kind of sense? Certainly felt like a kick to the solar plexus to him.

"Sorry you wasted the water man." Sam said quietly, watching as Dean stiffened as he placed the flask on the table. "I'm sorry." Sam rushed to say, watching as Dean's entire body tensed under his words. "I didn't mean… I can't control it Dean, and I wasn't trying to freak you out." Sam pleaded quietly for understanding. He saw Dean grit his teeth, jaw locked down tightly and squirmed under Dean's narrowed glare.

"You didn't huh?" Dean answered incredulously. "How many times are you going to lie to me Sam? How many more secrets am I going to have to dig up? I'd thought…" Yeah, Sam knew exactly what Dean had thought. He would have thought so too not so long ago. Sam had to swallow his shame, before attempting to speak.

"I didn't Dean. And I just… I couldn't tell you b-" Dean cut him off.

"Because why Sam? Cause you trust a demon bitch more than me? You can tell her but not me? What the hell did I do to you to that you couldn't…"

"I was scared!" Sam practically screamed at his brother, before falling silent again, head resting heavily against his pillows. Dean open and closed his mouth a few times before finally closing it, waiting for Sam to explain. His arms crossed over his chest as he sat back to wait for an explanation.

Sam sighed, scratching at the irritating bandages on his chest before continuing in a quiet voice, staring at the ceiling, not having the strength to look Dean face to face. "I was scared, Dean. I didn't know what the hell was going on, and I didn't always know what I was doing. You've made it clear on what you thought of my 'abilities' and I just…couldn't bring it up. I just..." couldn't handle seeing the disappointment. He thought to himself, but didn't dare say it out loud. He didn't want to see Dean's disapproving look that he knew he'd get if he turned his head a fraction to the right.

He heard Dean sigh, and waited for him to start throwing stones his way. Surprisingly, Dean's voice softened, a hint of… pain? In his voice as he answered quietly, "Sam… how am I supposed to trust you if you don't tell me these things, huh? I want to trust you man, but you hiding this shit from me isn't helping. No matter how I feel about these," Dean waved his hand vaguely in the air, "powers. But you're my brother, and if something's wrong I need to know about it. I can't help you Sam if you don't let me in." Dean was pleading pleading with him to talk to him, and it took all Sam had not to bury his head in his pillow and cry. He owed it to Dean to at least explain why he'd hidden it, and try and at least patch some of the damage done.

"I am sorry Dean. It's just… it's hard, you know, the last few months…." He faltered, biting his lip trying to get a handle on his emotions. God, Dean should be making fun of him for being such a girl. All he was getting was a sympathetic nod, patiently waiting for him to continue. It was time to clear the air.

"Just start at the beginning." Dean added gently, trying to coax the information out of his brother without having to pull the facts out by force.

A shaky breath, and a quick glance at Dean, and Sam began to explain what had been going on since Dean's death over 5 months ago.

"Everything started falling apart after you, ah, died." Sam added quietly, as if divulging a long buried secret. "I didn't understand why Lilith couldn't kill me – not right away."

A long sigh was the only sound in the suddenly silent room.

"I mean, you were dead and I was forced to watch it. I was helpless, useless. It didn't matter that I was supposed to have some 'bomb' inside of me - some powerful psychic mojo or what not. What a great freaking help that was – it didn't save the one thing I needed to protect." The implication didn't go unnoticed. Dean squirmed in his seat but stayed quiet.

"There was just you and me. And then it was just me." A hitched breath, and Dean was almost starting to regret asking Sam to do this, but things had changed, and Dean needed the truth – no matter how much it was going to cost him, and more importantly, how much it was going to cost Sam. They couldn't afford to keep going with so many secrets between them.

"I don't even remember doing it. It wasn't a sudden light bulb that went off. More like I became aware that something had happened. It wasn't until Bobby came in and was shaking me and yelling at me about something that things shifted back into focus."

"What happened Sam?" Dean asked quietly, his heart picking up speed as he considered the implications.

"I finally looked around and noticed that all the windows had exploded. The hardwood floor was torn to pieces, and the walls were cracked from top to bottom. I didn't know that it had even happened. I was a little preoccupied...." Dean swallowed his guilt. Yeah, Sam was a little busy - staring at his brother's mutilated body on somebody's dining room floor.

A sudden thought occurred to Dean, and before he could get them out, Sam answered.

"Yeah, that's when the first 'episode' occurred. That's what I call it, anyways. Turns out I'd split the street right down the middle. About two and a half feet wide and half a block long. Street lamps were scattered on the ground. Lights inside had exploded." A strained, hollow laugh escaped past Sam's mouth. "Freaked Bobby the hell out. He didn't know what the hell was going on." It pained Dean that he had been the trigger to Sam's emotional breakdown and subsequent psychic meltdown.

"I'm sorry Sam. I just thought –"

"What? That I had forgotten the promise I made to you Dean? That I wouldn't try to find out how to use my abilities? I didn't try." At Dean's pointed look, Sam gave a sheepish smile in reply. "Okay, the 'sending demons back to hell' part was intentional," the smile vanished, "but the rest… I didn't have any control over it, Dean. Things just… well things just started happening, and I tried to deal the best I could. It was just too much sometimes, ya know?" He added, before muttering a string of curses, shifting on the bed until he found a comfortable place to relax.

"I'm sorry Sammy." Dean sounded contrite, and Sam let out a breath as he waited for Dean to spit out the rest of his statement. "I know that the past few months haven't been exactly easy – for either of us." Dean paused, chewing absently on the inside of his cheek before shaking his head, a smirk in place of his earlier glum expression.

"But if you keep crap like this from me? I'll kick your ass so hard you won't sit down for a month. Don't think I won't, little brother." He teased playfully, but the meaning, the important one, had been received.

Sam smiled thinly, the stitches in his face pulling tight with the action. "Yeah, I know you would." Thanks for not giving up on me Dean.

Dean stood up, raising his arms above his head and stretching until he heard a faint popping sound, letting out a yawn as he did so. He crossed his arms, observing Sam critically - assessing. "You ready to get the hell out of here?" Trying for nonchalant, but Sam could hear the concern.

Shifting, Sam straightened his overtaxed body and moved to sit upright, using the bed railings to help him move up. God he was exhausted. But he could sleep just as easily in the Impala. The seats had at least moulded to his form, where the bed was flat and as hard as a slab of concrete. "Yeah. The car's more comfortable than this granite sheet they call a bed." Dean snorted, but didn't comment further, just nodded and turned to leave the room, presumably Sam guessed, to go get his doctor and discharge papers.

"Dean?" Dean stopped, hovering in the doorway his attention focused on Sam. "Holy water? Really? Dude, I still have the tattoo, you moron." Sam grinned tiredly at his brother. Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "Stranger shit has happened. Besides, you were thirsty anyways. Saved me having to get off my ass and go fetch it for you, princess." Sam snorted at being referred to a princess, and Dean's snickered before vanishing around the corner, heading off to find Sam's doctor.

Sam sighed, and tried to soak in the conversation he'd just had with his brother. So many words, and yet, so many things left unsaid. Would they ever get back to the way things had been before? Sam had his doubts. Part of that was his fault, he knew. Keeping secrets in his family never went well, for either the person keeping them or for the person having secrets kept from. It was a horrible habit to begin with, and one that Sam needed to break if he was going to be able to re-build the relationship he'd had with his brother prior to Dean's death. They were set on working things out between them, and it was a start. But Sam acknowledged sadly, that some secrets needed to be buried, no matter how much you wanted to let your family in.

Dean sat on his bed, flipping through the channels trying to find something to watch. Sam had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow, soft snores could be heard shortly after that. The kid had drained himself just getting out of the hospital, in the car, and to the motel. Whatever mojo Sam had done, it had certainly taken its toll on him physically and mentally. They would need a few days to allow Sam to rest up, before they would try tackling another case.

Dean sighed, finally stopping on a channel with an old horror movie playing before throwing the remote at the end of the bed. He wasn't really watching it. He was busy replaying the conversation he'd had with Sam earlier that day. He was glad that he had finally gotten Sam to talk, but getting him to do so was draining. Why was it so hard to talk to his brother? So much had changed since he'd died. Rather, Sam had changed, and Dean was left floundering trying to play catch up. All of their secrets that had been brought to light in the last few months had helped, but there were still issues and a bit of doubt on both sides. Dean knew they were both at fault for the level of secrets they were keeping from each other, but they were finally trying to reconnect and try and put things right between them.

Glancing at his sleeping sibling, Dean couldn't help but huff and shake his head. The kid was drooling on his pillow again. Sighing, Dean slumped down on his bed so that he was lying flat, hands behind his head. This whole psychic powers thing with Sam certainly freaked Dean out. If he hadn't been scared before, he certainly was now after Sam's little display back at the Carlyle's. Finding out that Sam had held out on him, lied to his face, about using his abilities had sent Dean damn near over the edge. That, and Castiel's warning about Dean stopping Sam before the angels did. Fear and anger were a potent combination and that first conversation between he and Sam had certainly left marks on the both of them. It would take a while and effort on both their parts before they could finally forgive and move on. For now, he would believe in his brother to do the right thing – and Dean would make sure he stayed on the right path, even if he has to threaten to beat it into Sam's thick head to make sure it stays that way.

Feeling a headache coming on, Dean rubbed wearily at his forehead. It wasn't till a moment later that he noticed the tv had turned off and the bed dipped near the end of his bed and he looked up to see Castiel sitting there, piercing Dean with a judgmental look.

"Have you ever heard of knocking first?" Dean blurted out, irritating making his words sharp.

Cas pointedly ignored him, his eyes now resting on the still slumbering figure in the bed across from him. Dean felt a moment of panic, immediately sitting up, trying to get himself planted between the angel and his brother.

"Sit." Castiel commanded, his tone broaching no argument. "I'm not here to fight with you. Only to talk." He added, when he saw the mutinous look cross Dean's features.

"About what?" Dean asked, hesitating.

"What we talked about before, Dean." Castiel said cryptically. Dean hated when he did that. Doesn't anyone ever give a straight friggin answer around here?

The angel's face gave nothing away. Calm and collected, he stood up moving away to stand near the coffee table, his eyes on Dean. Waiting for what, Dean didn't know.

"Are we going to keep playing twenty questions? Or are you going to get to the point of this impromptu visit?" Dean bit out, already tired of this charade. He stood up and made his way over to his brother, resting a hand on Sam's shoulder, while keeping his eyes on their guest, his stance protective.

The angel stood still, only his head moved as he tracked the elder Winchester's movements. "Your brother." Castiel answered, sounding both placid and callous at the same time.

Dean's hackles were already raised. Sam was still snoring softly, the raised voices not disturbing him in the slightest. Totally oblivious to the potential danger not a dozen feet from them. Kid was really out for the count. "Leave my brother out of this." Dean hissed between clenched teeth. Enough people had been after his brother lately. He didn't need an angel joining the bandwagon as well.

"Sam has everything to do with it. You should be well aware the reasons why, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah. He's got some freaky psychic stuff going on, I've got it." Dean lowered his voice to not wake up his brother, as he felt his brother shift beneath his touch, rolling father over onto his side facing away from the two other occupants in the room. Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean.

"Do you?" Dean felt a chill go up and down his spine at the cold words, feeling the angel's stare boring into his head. "Sam is only going to get stronger as time goes on. What will you do when he gets beyond your control?" Dean really didn't want to contemplate that. He didn't want to believe that Sam could turn. But these powers…

"Yes." Castiel murmured, as if asking an unspoken question. "His future is uncertain, as it has always been. He's on a road Dean that you may not be able to follow. Whatever 'end game' that Azazel had planned, your brother is apart of that. To what extent, we don't yet know. It makes your brother dangerous for that reason alone." Cas had moved to stand in front of the frazzled hunter, his face mere inches from Dean's. "If you want to keep him, I suggest keeping a closer watch on him."

"What the hell do you want me to do? He's not some puppy that I can strap a leash on." Dean threw back, his voice barely above a whisper as his hand increased the hold on Sam's shoulder, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

"If you want to keep him, you will." Castiel fired back, his calm voice not masking the fierce blaze in his eyes as he studied the hunter before him. Dean squirmed under the gaze, his heart thudding in his chest at the threat, glancing down at his brother before looking up to meet Castiel's challenge – only to be met with an empty room.

"Sonofa…." Dean's head whipped around as he checked every inch of the room, seeing if anyone else had wanted to pop in for a late night visit. Sighing, he moved away towards the window, pulling back the curtains to check the area again. Stupid angels. He thought to himself.

"Dean?" Sam's sleepy voice pulled Dean out of his thoughts as he moved from the window and moved over to his brother's bed.

"Yeah?" Dean answered quietly.

"Everything okay?" Boy, now wasn't that a loaded question. Things were certainly not okay. The apocalypse was coming, demons were running wild, angels were popping in for tea and crumpets at one in the morning, and both sides were gunning for his brother and Dean was trapped in the middle. But at the moment, all Dean needed was his family, and that would have to be enough.

"Yeah dude. Everything's fine. Go back to sleep Sammy." Sam was practically asleep already, and with a sleepy grin, he wrapped the blanket tightly around himself, and drifted off, the pain medication easily affording the youngest Winchester to slip easily back into sleep.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his short tussled hair. Things were so screwed up. But if they had any chance of coming through this alive, then they needed to do it together.

"Looks like we've got work to do little brother." Dean murmured quietly to his slumbering sibling, patting his arm gently before moving to his own bed and flicking the TV back on.

End.

A/N: Thanks for reading guys! R & R is always appreciated.