A/N: Part 4 in the Jane Downey series. This time, it's The End. Go check out Parts 1-3, That Picture (T), A Normal Day (M), and While They Dance on a Pin (T).

"Jay, you can't still be mad."

"A whorehouse, Dean."

"I know, I know. But we weren't there for me," he explains again, his pleading tone quickly becoming annoyed, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"Did you wait in the car while you sent the angel into the whorehouse?"

"What? No! Jane, you know, I didn't touch one single hooker."

And that one sentence, said so earnestly, is just so very ludicrous that I have to laugh. The whole days-long argument, just over. He laughs, too. More in relief than humor, but he laughs. That's an occurrence that is getting to be more common these days. I love to hear it. It's just the two of us, and he hides the melancholy well.

Parting ways with Sammy was not an easy choice. And, frankly, it wasn't a decision I backed. I was so worried for them both. And selfish, too. I like having them both with me. But it was ultimately a good decision for them, I think. Dean needed this break from the constant worry for Sam, every minute spent trying not to judge his brother. They've never really mended their relationship since we found out about Sam's reliance on Ruby. Since we found out about the demon blood. I guess my relationship with Sam pretty much sucks, too. We tried to just deal with it. So hard. Dean harder than me, of course. He has always been as much father as brother to Sammy. But it was wearing him down.

So much has been wearing us down.

From the moment Dean discovered that his actions in Hell became the first step in the march toward Apocalypse, he has felt the fate of the world on his shoulders, more literally than ever before. His resolve to continue the fight, to keep hunting, is stronger than ever. Unfortunately, this truth was driven home to all three of us by a stunt pulled by Zachariah, a superior of Castiel's, right after the night with Alastair. The whole charade was designed to show Dean that his turmoil over his time in Hell, his questioning of his role in the new apocalyptic reality, was pointless. Thrown into corporate, nine-to-five lives, we came out the other end of our three week trip to the land of make believe with the understanding that given the choice, we would still pick our lives. We remember it all. It wasn't horrible; the stability, the material possessions, the routine were nice places to visit, so to speak. But the only thing that I wish I still had was the ring on my finger. We've never talked about that little detail, Dean and I; but for three weeks, we were married.

The situation wasn't made any better by the discovery that our lives are apparently just shitty fiction. Or shitty fanfiction, depending on what you're reading. I thought it was all as funny as hell until we discovered that Carver Edlund, better known as Chuck Shurley, was really a prophet and tied up in this apocalypse mess. Cas thought it a great honor to meet him, and Dean wanted to bust his face for writing our sex scenes so vividly. But mostly, we spent our time with Chuck trying to keep Sam away from Lilith. My boys argued about how to deal with the prophecy, and Dean had to rescue Sam. Again.

Finding out they had a brother, well, that shook them a bit. Dean, especially, had a hard time wading through his lingering case of hero worship for John, and the resultant jealousy and protectiveness he felt for another little brother. The boys fought over how to deal with Adam, what to tell him, how far into our world we were going to let him go. In the end, it didn't really make a difference. Adam, the real Adam, the one who was their brother, had been killed by the monster wearing his face. Dean killed it while saving Sam. Again.

We met Castiel's vessel, Jimmy Novak. Sadly, Jimmy got very little time with the family he left behind before Castiel took him back, before Jimmy offered himself to him again. Our angel made it back just in time to witness our horror as Dean and I watched Sam drink the blood of a demon. Our Sammy. The rift between the brothers became a gaping chasm as Dean, Bobby, and I made the decision to lock Sam up for detox. I don't honestly know if this is something I will ever get over. I know Dean hasn't. Not really. But by putting his brother behind that locked door in Bobby's panic room, Dean saved him. Again.

But still Sam would not listen. Still Sam made all the wrong choices. He chose a demon over his brother and his best friend and started the Apocalypse. He chose Ruby. He drank enough blood to become stronger than he ever had. He killed Lilith. He began the end. And when Lucifer rose because of the blood that he'd spilled, Dean tried to save him. Again. This time, though, someone else had their backs. And to be honest, we don't have a clue who plucked them away from danger and put them somewhere else. Cas thinks he knows. I pray he's right.

A lot has happened in the days since then. Bobby was possessed. That tough as nails old man somehow regained control and stabbed himself to keep from stabbing Dean. He's paralyzed now. I tried to stay home and take care of him, but he won't allow it. So I'm on the road. Meg came back. Lucifer is seeking a vessel; he is, after all, an angel. Sam picked up a superfan who has no concept of personal space. Cas exploded all over Chuck, and was brought back to life. Sam, Dean, and I had Enochian sigils flash-carved onto our ribs, making us invisible on the angel version of the Marauders' Map. And Dean has learned he is the Michael Sword, or Michael's vessel. It is not a job I'm ready for him to take on. If Michael takes him over, he won't come back. Ever. And that is not okay with me.

We got a call from Uncle Rufus and went to Colorado. I thought Jo was a demon for few minutes and beat her ass. I have to admit that even after we realized it was the effects of the Horseman War, I didn't have it in me to regret it. That had been brewing for a while. The look on her face when Dean walked in the door of the house we were holed up in convinced me that she needed a reminder of exactly what I'm capable of. War was defeated, Aunt Ellen got a promise of better communication, and my boys argued.

Sam felt he couldn't trust himself on the hunt. The desire for a fix was just too strong. It was his idea to leave our little band of misfits. Dean agreed and let him go. He was so tired of worrying about him. That was something I never thought I'd see.

Dean gave me an out as we watched Sammy hitch a ride and drive away. He offered to take me to Bobby's, to convince my ornery uncle to let me stay home. He tried to get me out of harm's way. I knew that was what he was doing. He knew I knew it. Without Sammy around, he felt I was less protected. It didn't matter why. I'm never going to leave him. Never. I don't know what's more important to him right now: the fact that Sam left or the fact that I stayed. He could never really have thought I'd leave him, I suppose, but he doubts so many things these days. And then again, I never could have believed he would let Sam go without a fight until I saw it happen.

He's spent the past weeks trying to be a simple man, with simple goals in his complicated world. There have been moments of incredible closeness between the two of us, and more time spent together since, well, ever. He's been lighthearted and quick to laughter in a way I haven't seen in years. But there is a guilt seated so firmly and deeply within him that I have no hope of touching it. He has missed his brother, but not as much as he thinks he should. He doesn't feel badly for having let Sam go, and that's where the guilt comes from; he feels guilty for not feeling guilty. How do I fix that?

I've missed Sam, too, the man I used to know so well. I've missed him for a long time. I'm not sad about his absence, though. The time away from Sam has been good for us, despite Dean's misguided and hilariously unsuccessful efforts at getting Cas laid. I just hope that Sammy is finding a little rest, too.

."You about ready to stop for the night? I don't think I can drive all the way through Kansas City tonight,"Dean asks as our laughter quiets.

"Yeah, baby. A bed sounds amazing."

"Yes, it does," he growls. Oh, what that growl does to me.

He pulls the Impala up in front of a truly horrible motel on a busy city street. I don't even care. I'm just ready to get out of this car. It's been a long drive.

"Excuse me, friend, but have you taken time out to think about God's plan for you?" asks a sidewalk evangelist, his face earnest.

"Too friggin' much, pal," Dean replies. He throws his arm around my shoulders and leads me inside.

No sooner than we get in the room and dump the duffels, Dean's phone rings. I flop on the bed and start to take off my nasty road clothes. It's Cas, of course. The talk turns to the Colt. We seem to never be rid of that damn thing. Cas apparently feels it would be a useful weapon against the Devil. I think Dean needs to get the hell off the phone. I toss my t-shirt at him to drive that point home.

"Kansas City," Dean tells him. Walking over to the bed and leaning over me to grab the room key, he gets the rest of the address. "Century Hotel, room 113."

He tosses the key back on the table, shifts his phone, and kisses my belly, that look in his eyes. I love that look. Whatever Cas says next prompts him to stand back up.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. No, no, come on, man. I just drove like sixteen hours straight, okay? I'm human," he snaps in exasperation. He cuts his eyes back to me and smirks, "And there's stuff I got to do." He rolls his eyes and responds to another question. "Eat, for example, or sleep. In this case, sex. We just need like four hours once in a while, okay?"

I throw my bra at him in agreement.

"Okay, so, you can pop in tomorrow morning," my man confirms, hopping on the bed beside me. "He says he'll just wait there."

And though he makes me feel so good, and I do the same for him, we know the time together is stolen. As we fall asleep for a few hours in each other's arms, we know that a new hunt begins tomorrow. It never ends. It just never ends.

A/N: Just a recap. There was a lot of time between this story and While They Dance on a Pin. Thank you so much to any repeat readers. And welcome to any new ones! Please be so kind as to leave a review. Reviews = Love. Who doesn't want to be loved?