DISCLAIMER: You'd think after two-plus years, I would've made at least some progress on the matter. But alas, no, I'm STILL no closer to owning Supernatural or those wonderful Winchesters than I was during my last story! LOL. It all belongs to Eric Kripke and company…the evil man.

SPOILERS: They vary quite a bit, but are especially heavy concerning Season 4 and Season 5 episodes. The action in this story takes place after Free to Be You and Me, and offers a slightly AU take on events during and after The End but before Fallen Idols.

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One Shot

SUMMARY: One shot. Two brothers. It's all that either of them have to prevent a sad and bloody ending, and for better or worse…they're both ready to take it. Partially AU, post-episodes 5.03 and 5.04…and not a one-shot despite the title! LOL.

Chapter 1

"Lucky number thirteen, kid. All the way on the end."

"Thanks," Sam replied drolly, accepting his room key from the elderly motel manager. How appropriate…guess Room 666 was already taken. With a weary sigh, the youngest Winchester – if he could even still call himself a Winchester anymore, anyway – hitched the duffel bag that contained his meager belongings higher on his shoulder and trudged off in the direction of his latest home away from home. It was becoming an increasingly long list, and Sam knew it was only going to keep growing, possibly even for the rest of his life.

Because as much as he wanted to, he couldn't deny the cold, hard truth…he no longer had a home. He could never go home again.

True, Sam knew that most people would say that he'd in fact never had a home to begin with, should they ever be privy to his life story, but he didn't care about that. For Sam, home had never consisted of a place, of four walls and floors and furniture and a roof over his head. Instead, it represented a person, the most important person in his life…his big brother Dean. The very individual who had, mere minutes ago as Sam sought out the night's shelter in his stolen jalopy of an old car, informed him over the phone that it would be better if they remained apart…on opposite sides of the world, to be more precise.

The world that, thanks to Sam, was set to come to an end any day now.

No, he hadn't meant to release Lucifer from his eternal prison, of course…God knew he hadn't. But Sam guessed none of that was of any importance anyhow, because God was apparently AWOL from His rather crucial post of ruling the heavens and Earth, and that road to Hell Sam had found himself nearly at the end of was oh-so proverbially paved with those good intentions he'd had. Plus, now there was that new, somewhat pressing matter that the Devil in the current flesh of some guy named Nick ultimately wanted Sam for his flesh instead.

Dean, meanwhile, was too busy stopping the Apocalypse to help a brother out…to help his own brother out, namely. But hindsight is twenty/twenty, they say, and Sam had come to realize that he certainly wasn't the one destined to save the world. Never was, despite what he'd been thinking when he'd strolled into that Maryland convent with Lilith in his demonically-enhanced powers' crosshairs…and Ruby at his side. Ruby, not Dean.

And for his big brother, that had been the crux of the matter, the real nail in the coffin of the brotherly bond and trust between them, as it turned out. 'You chose a demon over me!' The hurt and outraged words had echoed over and over in his head, ever since the night Dean had spoken them in the parking lot of the hospital that housed a newly-paralyzed Bobby Singer…and oversimplified though they were, Sam couldn't deny the intrinsic truth of them any more than he could deny that he'd broken the last seal and literally unleashed THE Beast. He was done abusing the truth – done denying it, done hiding it. Done making excuses for his ultimately inexcusable actions.

Just like Dean was done trying to save him.

The weight of the cell phone in his coat pocket suddenly felt heavier as Sam unlocked the door to his room, too lost in his thoughts to appreciate the humor of the motel obviously being as old as the man who managed it if the requirement of an actual key instead of a keycard was anything to go by. It was still there – the condemning voicemail that, for him, had been the final push firmly into Ruby's arms and his own damnation – and that, now combined with the latest assault of the final piercing wail of the dial tone after Dean had efficiently cut him off and hung up on him, made him want to either drop the phone and grind it under his boot heel or chuck it into the nearest body of water. But he had to resist that urge…it was his reminder; a reminder to stay the hell away from Dean. His older brother had certainly had enough Hell in his life.

And Sam, no matter how unwittingly, brought Hell with him every time. Everywhere he went…and to everyone he loved.

But Sam was resolved that this would be no more. Especially now that Hades' head honcho himself had chosen Sam for the unsavory honor of being his perfect meat-suit. And Sam had told Dean as much, fear thick in his voice but no restraint within his words – knowing if he were ever to regain Dean's trust, he'd have to start small and stop lying and keeping secrets – but even then, the big brother who used to drop everything and come to Sam's aid if Sam so much as even winced from a paper cut, was unmoved. Not even his little brother's most unspeakable terror at what could possibly be to come for him had rattled Dean's cage, and when it came down to it, Sam had to admire him for that. He certainly hadn't been able to do it that way, begging for Dean to trust and accompany him in doing battle against Lilith right up until the very end, still needing his brother like he had for most, if not all, of his life. But he'd also needed Ruby…needed his powers…needed her blood.

Dean, however, was proving himself to be entirely different, doing it all on his own – no blood, no powers, no brother…no problem. Just an angel here and there, his GED, and his can-do attitude. The days of he and his 'trusty geek-boy sidekick' were no more but Sam figured that was all well and good at any rate, since he was pretty sure that side of him no longer even existed inside the broken, pathetic, doomed shell and shadow of a man he'd become.

The angels had it correct, without a doubt, correct where he'd had it egregiously wrong. Dean was the Winchester brother that would save the world…Sam had already fulfilled his destiny of being the one to jump start the end of it.

The key finally slid into the lock, the slight trembling of the young ex-hunter's hands having made the first few attempts unsuccessful. But Sam wasn't fazed…he was more than used to failure by now. It was essentially all he knew.

Including what he now knew to be the biggest failure of all…the fact that he'd never gotten up the guts to just end himself instead. Sam knew the future held nothing for him anymore.

Nothing good, at least.

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As he'd feared, it was bad. Worse than bad, really…try outright horrifying, hideous, harrowing…hellish. Dean had quickly come to realize this fact…but perhaps the worst part was that he had no control over any of it. The future – the year 2014 to be exact – had somehow become his present, and if he had to wager a bet, he'd say that this was supposed to be a different kind of present from those thrice-damned angels that seemed to always be dogging his every move nowadays…and he cursed them for what had to have been the hundredth time, at least.

He wanted to return this present to sender.

Death and destruction ran rampant a little on down the timeline…demons were predictably everywhere, Lucifer was still on the loose, and probably half of humanity had been wiped out – typical symptoms of your normal, everyday Apocalypse. But there was also the unexpected to take into account. Like the fact that evil's weapon of choice hadn't been a series of various catastrophic natural disasters or nuclear bombs or even the dreaded swine flu…no, what it had been, what it still was, Dean was all-too familiar with. He and his brother had faced it what now seemed like ages ago – which was pretty accurate at least in this reality, he figured – on a hunt in River Grove, Oregon.

And just his luck…that hunt had turned out to be the inevitable 'one that got away', the one supernatural killer that they'd never stopped nor even ever gotten a grasp on the hows and whys of. And this same demonically-spawned 'Croatoan' virus, as he'd come to know it, had now graduated from taking over a sleepy little town to having spread throughout the entire world, leaving millions of victims in its wake…half of them possessed through the contact of tainted blood, and half of them lying dead in their own untainted blood after having been brutally murdered by those infected.

Dean continued to muse on all he had seen so far as he thoroughly cleansed a knife of its crimson stains – stains from the latest "Croat" he'd had to kill in self-defense – and wondered not for the first time if Sam would've still been immune to the disease like he'd proven to be back in Oregon, thanks most likely to the demon blood he'd already had running through his veins.

But that was for him to never know and to never find out, because apparently, as he'd oh-so callously been informed, his little brother had never made it to the year 2014.

It hurt too much to dwell on it…a soul-rending, searing ache that would likely never heal. So Dean desperately tried not to do so.

But it had thus far proven to be an impossible task. There certainly weren't many more important people left in his life – shacked up along with him in the dismal resistance compound that was Camp Chitaqua – to distract him from thoughts of who'd always been the most important person to him. There would be no fatherly support from Bobby, who, if the bullet hole in his wheelchair was anything to go by, had either preceded Sam in death or followed him. Castiel was thankfully still around, but it seemed that the erstwhile angel had let his one-time, Dean-prodded visit to the brothel go to his halo-free head and taken "Iniquity" for his new middle name…if he'd ever even had a last one, that was. Chuck was present and accounted for too, along with his ever-growing stash of toilet paper and other assorted neurotic quirks…but they weren't nearly as fun to pick on as Sam's had been. And the rest were practically strangers to him. Unfamiliar faces and people that he would apparently come to know…and in more ways than one, in the case of quite a few of the women. And boy had that Risa chick spat fire at him for that!

Only…it hadn't exactly been him that Risa was upset with. No, that guy was Dean Winchester – a bold, swaggering soldier-slash-hunter with a killer attitude and lady-killer looks to match…and absolutely none of the heart. Or at least, that's how the real Dean was coming to see it, and he'd sooner swallow nails than accept that this ruthless ass who shared his name and his every gene be considered the real Dean instead of him…by anyone. Because the real Dean wouldn't have let his baby, his loyal and cherished 1967 Chevy Impala, go to rust; the real Dean wouldn't have coldly and unremorsefully put a bullet in one of his so-called friends without first having tried to find a way to cure the man of the demonic infection that had claimed him.

And most of all, the real Dean would never have completely abandoned Sam, leaving him to die alone…or would at least still be feeling his loss like a hole in the heart to this very day. And maybe that was just what was all wrong with his future self, he ultimately considered.

The man had a hole in his heart where his baby brother used to be.

But that still didn't mean that Dean had to like him, or feel sorry for him. The bastard had made his own bed and now he had to lie in it for the rest of his miserable life, which mercifully likely wouldn't be that long with the way the Croats continued to multiply at every turn. The unsympathetic attitude he was copping in respect – or lack thereof – to 2014 Dean was a familiar one though…a mere week ago, he had taken the same approach concerning Sam. He'd hardened his heart and broken his little brother's, withstood the kid's go-to emotional onslaught of the puppy-dog eyes and that soft, plaintive voice to fire back some assaults of his own that were far less docile. And some deep, dark part of him had even secretly relished the crumpling of Sam's expressive face every time he'd shot him down and refused to listen to him, going so far as to looking forward to an instance where he could go off with Cas and leave Sam behind, because in some cases turn about was only fair play and damn it who was the weak and whiny one now!

The honest and human truth was, he had just not been able to shake the thought that Sam deserved that painful bite on the ass that everything had come back to give him; just like Dean's future self, Sam had thought the battle to be more important than his brother – going his own way, using those godforsaken powers of his, and trusting that damn demon-bitch Ruby, drinking her freaking blood…and doing it all against Dean's wishes and advice. He had kept secret after secret, outright lied from the moment Dean got out of Hell, and kept on building the lies in the months following, ultimately resulting in a serious addiction to the demonic liquid life and a knock-down, drag-out confrontation between the two of them in a hotel suite…a fight that had ended with Dean sprawled on the floor, choked into submission, and the resurgence of the classic John Winchester ultimatum. And just like nearly ten years prior, Sam had once again walked out the door.

Dean had called his brother a monster during that fight…and at the time, he'd meant it. It was the one thing, ever since Sam had discovered he had supernatural abilities, that the youngest Winchester feared becoming to his very soul…and upon the word being said, Sam had snapped. True, Dean had no doubt that the younger man had already been frayed to a single thread by his impromptu incarceration in Bobby's panic room, but that stopped mattering the second Sam had defended that treacherous snake of a demon against Dean's thrust of her own killing blade. And it especially stopped when Sam had chosen to go with her in the end – the penultimate piss-poor decision that, for the elder sibling, had been the last straw that broke the camel's back…never mind the one that had led to the kickoff of the end of the world.

Naturally, his brother had been sorry. Sorrier and more beaten and broken that Dean had ever seen him. But it was the definitive case of too little, too late, and for Dean, a thousand apologies were just sure as hell never going to cut it…and he'd made sure that Sam knew that, too. He owed his brother the biggest 'I told you so' in history, and he had planned to collect on every bit of it.

But, at the same time, he grudgingly had to admit that he'd also owed Sam an apology of his own, because he hadn't exactly been at the top of his brotherly game ever since his return from Hell either. It was far easier to dwell and focus on Sam's mistakes, but Dean couldn't escape the fact that he himself had made some as well. Not the least of which had been leaving Sam to suffer alone in that abysmal panic room, and that ill-thought use of the word 'monster'. And finally – after a swift but ultimately needed kick in the ass from Bobby – Dean had apologized for it, as best he could, over the phone in a voicemail while cooling his heels in Heaven's sitting room thanks to that biggest dick of an angel since Uriel, Zachariah. But nonetheless, Sam had gone the final term with Ruby anyway, hadn't rediscovered where his heart lay after Dean had candidly poured out his own.

And that had been what hurt most of all…a hurt he'd been holding onto with a vengeance.

Because Sam had no doubt been trying his hardest to earn forgiveness…damn it, Dean knew he had. Though at times able to put up a normal front, for the most part contrition and stark honesty had become his brother's new default settings and self-flagellation his new art form. He would've had to be blind to not have seen how sorry Sam was, knew that his little brother had meant every word he'd said before they'd made their fated split…that he would try with all he had in him to work out his own issues and come back a better and stronger man.

That had been why he'd decided to let Sam go in the end.

His younger sibling had – after quite a bit of harassment from Dean – eventually caught on to their current situation, proposing the parting of their ways upon understanding that neither of them were ever going to get anywhere with how things had been going and the tension still between them…and Dean had agreed. Because in spite of his, well, lingering spiteful side, he truly had wanted things to be right between him and Sam again…he just hadn't been sure if they ever could be.

So he'd given both Sam and him that chance, and as a consequence of it here he was…and here Sam wasn't.

He threw the knife he'd been cleaning in a fit of anger and grief, uncaring as to whether or not it hit any of the refugees milling around because he was the real Dean for God's sake and he didn't know or even truly care about the lot of them when it came down to it…not like he knew and cared about Sam. And yes, he'd had his fun with Castiel of course, but not even his personal guardian angel could ultimately compare to the angel of a different sort that he'd now lost, much less replace him…no matter what Dean had said in the privacy of his Impala.

Their time apart should've brought about a fresh start for both of them, or have given them some much-needed breathing room at the least…but in this reality it had brought about his little brother's end instead, had resulted in Sam not breathing anymore.

Irony was one cruel and bitter bitch.

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Jerk. Sam smiled fondly and wistfully as he sat on the bed scrolling through the few pictures of Dean he had stored on his Blackberry. Most of them, just like the ones that Dean had of Sam on his own cell, showed his brother in compromising positions and embarrassing situations, captured moments in time that had before always made Sam laugh but now served to only bring tears to his eyes. He absently wondered if Dean was sitting at some similar motel somewhere doing the same thing, or if he'd already deleted the likely unwanted reminders of what they used to have between him from his memory…both phone-wise and mind-wise.

Just as he had a couple of days ago, Sam had minutes prior picked up his cell with the intention of finally contacting Dean, but had ended up chickening out…just as he had also done several times at Stanford. One thing that his family would never know was just how much he'd missed them in those years; how much he'd still wanted them both in his life, but never could seem to drown out the echoes of John's fury and Dean's stoicism from the night he walked out enough to take that first step in bridging the gap…not to mention his fear of further rejection. And one thing they would never understand was that he hadn't gone to college to escape his brother and father…he had gone to escape hunting. And to pursue something other than what his father wanted – which had consisted mostly of absolute obedience and vengeance on the thing that had killed his wife – for a change…to for once in his life, have 'normal'. But everything that had happened since – from his beloved Jessica burning on the ceiling, to a newly-freed Lucifer proclaiming Sam to be his intended vessel – had proven to him that normal was only an illusion, especially for someone…no, something like him. Monsters, vampires, blood-sucking freaks couldn't ever have normal; they didn't deserve it.

And the same went for family…for brothers who went to freaking Hell for you. Monsters didn't deserve those either. But now, thanks to his own foolishness and gullibility and blindness, he had lost the formerly unbreakable bond he'd shared with his anyway. For good, it seemed.

With that thought, plus the overwhelming anxiety that Lucifer could come calling at any second lodged in his brain, Sam switched off his phone, placed it aside, and began to rummage through his open duffel bag that lay beside him, extracting his laptop and one other item. He quickly brought up his email account and took about fifteen or so minutes to write Bobby Singer, his words full of apologies and appreciation for the man who had treated him like his own son throughout his life, and in many ways had been more of a father to him than even John Winchester ever was. Thankful that it was late and Bobby most likely wouldn't be awake to immediately read the email, he sent it and then started to compose a new one, this time with Dean's name in the recipient box…but then he stopped. And he thought, and in the end, he activated his Blackberry once more.

This time, there was no chickening out when he highlighted Dean's name.

As he'd feared yet ultimately expected though, he got Dean's voicemail instead of the big brother himself. Still, he soldiered on, allowing the thought that Dean had probably purposely declined to answer as soon as he saw Sam's name on the caller ID to bolster his willpower and his words as he spoke. The tears in his eyes had broken free to stream down his cheeks, causing his voice to become strangled by the time he was through leaving Dean a message similar to the one he'd sent Bobby, only magnified in intensity – sorrow, guilt, indebtedness, but most of all, love as thick within his tone as the tears were – with the last part of his final sentiment cut off as he'd gone over the time limit. Dean would only be hearing a "goodb—" instead of the full word, but Sam was sure he would know what it was supposed to have been.

Turning both devices back off, he then picked up the third object he had retrieved from his bag and made his way over to the bed furthest from the door. He still habitually got rooms with two beds, and moreover slept on the bed that was designated to always be his so long ago, back when he was still ignorant of all that was really out there in the darkness…and the fact that he himself had unknowingly been part of that darkness all along. Back when Dean was there, forever ready and willing to stand between Sam and any danger that might dare to walk into the room.

But that was then. There would be no one to stand between Sam and what he was about to do now…and that was just the way he wanted it.

No one, except, possibly Lucifer, that was. The Devil had delivered the news to him personally that Sam would eventually be his vessel, that he would in due time ultimately say yes…but Sam had instantly seen one surefire way out.

'I will kill myself before I let that happen…'

His own words, then said with such conviction and courage, resounded throughout his mind, and he wondered now why his hands were shaking so badly even as he picked up his revolver and loaded a single bullet into it. Maybe it was the fear of this only final solution not working…Lucifer had vowed to Sam that he would simply bring him back if he ever did the deed, and then what would he do? What could he do? But then again, maybe it was also the fear that it would work, that pulling that trigger would permanently kill him despite the Light Bringer's dark promise, and after death naturally came the afterlife. Which, for Sam, would no doubt be a second death instead…the Second Death, to be precise. Chuck had told him that his eyes had turned black as he was exorcising Lilith, and while it was true that he'd done some stupid things over the past few months, Sam was still smart enough to know that demons didn't to go Heaven. Nor did half-demons…and he was afraid he'd become just that.

But Sam finished loading the bullet and cocked the hammer anyway. Whatever the outcome, it was worth a shot...in every sense of the word.

Because in the end, it came down to the greater good for him, as always seemed to be the case…and not his own good, but that of others. That of the world…that of Dean. Just like with Stanford, there was something about those horrible past few months that Dean would never know or understand, and that was the core reason Sam had in his heart for going after Lilith with such vigor and determination, for drinking Ruby's blood and honing his powers against his better judgment and his brother's will for him. True, there had been some less than honorable reasons for it all – a need for revenge, for the acceptance that it had seemed he could only find with Ruby, and for the control over his own life and decisions that had previously eluded him so – but the first and foremost reason was something that he had strived as hard as he could throughout his adult life to do…trying to make something good out of his curse, to save people, and most of all, to protect Dean. And he'd known – or at least thought he'd known at the time – that letting Ruby teach him how to master his psychic powers was the way to go. He'd remembered all-too well what had happened to him the last time he hadn't listened to her telling him to use them, and more specifically, what had happened to Dean.

And he hadn't been about to make that same mistake twice…he'd been ready to do whatever it took to get Dean out of Hell, and after Castiel had done that job for him, he'd been willing to do whatever it took to keep Dean from ever going back. Which meant stopping Lilith, stopping the Apocalypse, and ultimately going against the angels who wanted a Dean still ravaged and plagued by nightmarish memories of his time downstairs to do those two essential tasks instead of him. But Sam had refused to let that happen – the proof was in the pudding of how badly Dean's interrogation-slash-torture session with Alastair had gone that it was doomed to get ugly – and that meant continuing to polish his powers. Continuing to trust Ruby and let her juice him up…because it was not going to end sad and bloody for them if Sam could help it. At least, not for Dean, anyway.

The youngest Winchester had most certainly meant what he'd said to his older sibling from inside the panic room…he hadn't been drinking the demon blood just for kicks.

Sam could in fact still remember the very first time he had gotten a dose of Ruby's red, remembered the brutal encounter with demons that had left him so badly damaged, depressed, and dizzy from blood loss – with unconsciousness rapidly approaching – that he'd hardly even tasted the bitter iron flavor of the potion Ruby had given him to 'help get him back on his feet again'. And it had done just that…at the peak of Sam's first high, he had felt practically invincible and numb to any pain – physical or emotional – that may have remained from the vicious assault. He still hadn't known what it was, had figured it was just one of those things Ruby could brew up quickly whenever the need arose or merely just had on hand, like the concoction she'd used on Dean to save him from a witch's hex bag…but he'd instantly come to the realization the next time she'd administered it to him, after a considerably easier mental exorcism of a twelve year-old girl…one in which he'd been thankfully able to expel the demon without killing the victim.

Despite the relief he'd been feeling over that fact, though, he had still been initially outraged at Ruby, especially after she'd brazenly made a slice to her arm right in front of him to replenish her flask's supply. But as he'd lain in bed that night after kicking her out, his compromised mind had started analyzing and laboring, thoughts running rampant of how using his abilities – especially when enhanced with the blood – had been so much faster than having to first incapacitate the demons and then exorcise them the old-fashioned way, and how it'd also been so much cleaner and better and just overall more heroic than using the knife and killing the human hosts right along with the evil beings inside them. His father had been a hero…his brother had been a hero. And Sam had known by that point that he was a hunter for life, for better or worse…what was to say that he couldn't be a hero, too? And even better…he had new hope, new means, of getting Dean back.

All he'd have to do was drink a little demon blood, and his influenced logic and need for justification had reminded him that he already had some in him anyway, had had it in him since he was six months old…so why the hell not.

'Yeah, why the hell not, Sam,' he reflected sarcastically with a derisive snort. It hadn't really been a question back then, only an encouraging thought, a green light to go ahead and take that risk…but God how he now wished he'd actually asked himself that question and then deliberated long and hard about it before answering, instead. Because it of course had all gone south from there. The nobler reasons had still stuck, yes, but along with the good feelings he'd gotten in his heart from destroying demons and saving their hosts, came the equally good feelings of power and strength that the crimson energy drink started to give him. Along with the numbing of aches and pains of all sorts came the burning need for more whenever they fought their way back to his consciousness after the blood's effects had worn off. Along with the first willing consumption…had come the eventual unwilling addiction. One that not even Dean's return from Hell – though it had managed to for a short time early on – had been able to completely break off and one that had literally driven Sam up the wall when he'd been locked in Bobby's panic room and forced to go cold turkey.

And one that had led Sam to do the unthinkable to a possessed but innocent young woman. Technically yes, it had been Ruby to commit the final act of ending the life of Nurse Cindy McClellan and the particularly despicable demon within her skin, in order to provide a big enough dose of tainted blood for her then-still hesitant prodigy to take out Lilith…but it had been Sam who had finally given her the go-ahead after hearing Dean confirm what he already knew deep down – that Sam wasn't himself anymore, and there was no going back. It had been the decisive shove into the abyss at the end of that slippery slope, and Sam remembered having hoped to God – though He likely wasn't listening anymore to a creature like what Sam had become – that when he finally hit bottom, he would die on impact.

But he hadn't…thanks to Dean.

And that was what it ultimately kept coming back to, why Sam now had a gun in his lap ready to be fired and a face awash with tears…Dean was gone, through with his self-spoiled blight of a brother, leaving everything to deservedly come crashing down on him…and Sam could no longer see any other option but to be done, too.

Done with everything.

TBC…

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A/N: Uh…hey all, long time no see, right? *endless facepalms* I really can't apologize enough for that, but I will say I had an extremely busy and eventful 2008 and 2009, to put it simply, in a variety of ways. Some of it was awesome, to say the least. I've now met Jared Padalecki three times (April and September 2008 EyeCons, 2009 Vancouver Con) and just can't say enough about how wonderful he is and how much I love him; got seven autographs, seven hugs, and five photo ops from him…while he now in turn also owns two of my drawings (of his dogs), both of which I got to give to him onstage at the EyeCons! Such amazing experiences! I also met Jensen Ackles for the first time (2009 Vancouver Con), got a hug and autograph and photo op from him, which was also great! Not to mention I've met various other guest stars such as Jim Beaver, Gabriel Tigerman, and Chad Lindberg multiple times. I also FINALLY got a job this past summer, LOL, and it has been allowing me time to write fanfic (since it's really not much of a job, LOL…but, hey, better than nothing!), and have two new cats, strays that we've taken in, bringing my current total to three. :-D

And then, some of it was horrible to say the least. I had to finally let go of Alice, my oldest cat and loyal companion of 20 years in December of 2007, and that unfortunately turned out to be just a primer for the loss of my grandfather aka "Pops" – who was like a second father to me all my life – in October of 2008, one day before his 79th birthday. It took me a LONG time to recover from that, and to add to my depression during that time was Season 4 of Supernatural…which was painful for me. Not so much the show itself, though, as all the fandom infighting was…it very nearly ruined the season AND the show for me. But I'm cautiously optimistic that it's gotten a little better overall now, enough to finally get back into the world of writing fanfic. I've started several stories in the past couple of years, but this is the first one that I've finished, so hopefully I'm back in the groove and can finish the rest now!

In any case, I hope you enjoy this latest one and reviews are appreciated! The story is four chapters long and already completely written, so I will be posting every other day as I did with my last one. Thanks to my LLS (long-lost sister) aka "psiChic" as always for the quick beta! :-)