This is the last chapter. My heart is actually breaking a little right now. It's been a long road with this fic, but I'm happy with it. I think I really am.

Thank you to those of you who stuck by it, those of you who helped me through it (you know who you are, hugs) and those of you who went silently by it and never stopped to chat.

Anyway...

Enjoy…

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CHAPTER 22:

He tried to collect himself, breathing in deeply the smell of cleaners that ruled the corridor and extended his hand towards the door handle. He hesitated…the fear of what he might find in there was in his mind, but it disappeared quickly and was replaced by concern for the boy.He knew exactly what the kid was going through, because he was going through it with him, but still he couldn't figure out why. Why was Leroy doing that? Why was he showing them or rather Ryan, how he died?

He knew one thing for sure…if the same things that were happening to him were happening to Ryan too…the kid was hurting…bad.

No wonder he was catatonic.

If it wasn't for Dean…

He shook his head and that simple action sparked new pain to arise.

"God, argh." He grabbed his head with his free hand and dug his fingers in his temples. His knees buckled a little but he stood his ground when the pain disappeared.

He knew he was delaying, he knew that, but he couldn't force himself to enter. Not now when he was handicapped with residues of the vision. But years of training under his fathers hand taught him how to suck it up, boy so he did. He sucked it up and entered the room.

The sunrays reached all the way up to the room's window, spreading their tentacles of light over the ledge to give warmth to the room. To give light and life to the tall space that one Ryan Hicks occupied. They spread their heat over the laying figure of Ryan's body, dispersed softly on his chest, rising up and down with his labored breathing.

"Ryan?" he tried to sound quiet to preserve the silence in the room.

"Ryan?" he held his voice soft and in a whisper. He didn't want to scare the boy, although he knew he wouldn't. Ryan came to him for help and he would help him.

He staggered on towards the bed, nearly missing the IV pole that was in his way.

That's why I didn't get dehydrated…that much.

He leaned down to look at the boy. The sight was so familiar to him, but so very different. The bandaged wrist was neatly tucked by his side, no running blood, no flies and no stench of blood. Ryan's eyes were opened, staring oblivious into the high ceiling, no screams for no one to hear and no fights. His chest was slowly making its way up and down, no frantic breathing and no painful huffs. The sun on his chest…that was familiar, the distant look…that was familiar too.

"Hey, it's Sam." He leaned a little closer to look right into Ryan's eyes. Those brown, chocolate eyes that saw the same things he saw. The skin that felt the same things he felt…or was it the other way around?

"I, ah, I know what happened. I know what," he corrected himself here, Ryan was not a 'what' he was a…"who you are. What you're capable off. It's alright."

Down the freckled face came a lonely tear that was aching so much to come out, that it was a relief for the bloodshed eyes when she escaped.

"Ryan, hey. Hey, Leroy can't hurt you anymore. Dean," he reflectively looked towards the door, craning his neck to better see them, "my brother, he got rid of Leroy. He won't hurt you anymore."

His breath ruffled Ryan's hair for a brief second before he stopped talking.

That one glance to the closed door, reminded him that Dean wasn't here.

Where is he?

When he reached his hand to touch Ryan's hand, to see if there was some way they were still connected, the door opened with the same ferocity his heart started pounding at the noise. He retreated his hand quickly like he was burned, spinning around, almost knocking the I.V. stand in the process.

"Dean!"

Dean closed the door silently behind him and turned around.

"You scared the crap out of me!" Sam whispered more loudly than he probably should.

"Sorry, scaredy pants, I can't open the door without some noise."

Sam huffed.

Dean came near him with rustling of his jacket and smell of coffee.

"You had coffee?"

"The nurse downstairs," the look Sam gave him, the 'I can not believe you' was written clearly in his face, the glazed eyes, the hunched form, "Sam? You O.K.?"

"Yeah, I just…Ryan came to me…"

Dean looked at him with eyes wide open, trying to see straight into his brother: "He came to you?"

"In a vision."

"You had a vision?"

Dean walked around the bed, his eyes darting from Sam to Ryan. He blocked the rising sun with his back, leaving Sam in the shadow and Ryan's chest deprived from the heat.

"Yeah, I saw Ryan," he looked down to the boys face, "he asked me to help him."

"And?" Again with the wide eyes, glimmering with concern.

"And that's it."

"Sam…" the warning in his voice stated what he could not: don't lie to me.

"I'm fine if that's what you're asking."

"You don't look fine."

"Well I didn't have my morning coffee yet."

"Hey…saved your ass."

And that was that. They both knew where they stood, both knew what happened, both knew that bickering can wait. They had to help Ryan, have to make sure he's alright and that was that.

"So how is he?"

Dean stuffed his hand in his pocket and waited for Sam's weary eyes to tell him what his mouth would certainly not.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

Sam come on, stop lying.

"I don't know. He's like you see him I guess."

"So he's still catatonic?"

"Well, yeah."

"Did you try talking to him?"

"Yes and he didn't…I don't think he knows we're here. I mean he probably feels us, but I don't think he knows, you know?"

"Right," he looked at the kid, "do you think he'll be alright now, that Leroy is gone?"

"How should I know?"

"You're the one who was linked to him, not me."

"I know." Dean could cut the sadness in those two words with a knife.

"He's hurting isn't he? Like you were?"

"I wasn't…"

"Sam, just don't. I was there, I know."

"I…"

He was interrupted by a hand that made it's way up his arm, clawing at the sleeve of his hoodie and tugging down. Sam looked at Dean, who just shrugged innocently and indicated nothing more.

Sam went with the pull, went closer to the boys head. He saw one more tear in the corner of Ryan's eye, glistering in the short, black lashes.

"Hey, it's alright." He looked at Dean who leaned closer as well.

"Ryan…" he felt the tug getting stronger and he tried to resist it or else his arm would fall on the boy's chest and he was afraid he might break it.

"What? Ryan, hey it's alright, 's O.K."

He saw two tears make their way down to the boy's ear and he knew exactly the feeling that produced. Ryan shifted his eyes, rotated them slowly to where Sam stood, to where Sam was looking at him.

"I just," a breath, "wanna go," a tug on Sam's hoodie, "home."

The words were clear even though the voice was hoarse and broken.

"You will Ryan, alright." He nodded a little, just enough for his hair to fall into his eyes. Just enough so that he could smile to that scared face.

Sam heard those words before and knew their meaning, knew they were a thought going around Leroy's and Ryan's head. And his own…sometimes. They all felt trapped in a place none of them belonged to, but he had a home, even though it wasn't the usual home with white picket fence and a lawn with freaky elves on it. He was home wherever the Impala and Dean took him. As long as he was with them he was home. Ryan and Leroy on the other hand were locked here, against their will and held here with no means of escape. He suddenly understood why Leroy cut his wrist; he understood his desire to die.

And he knew why Leroy attached himself to Ryan; they were both held here because they were different…different like himself. They were homeless, held here without their families…and he…had a family.

Ryan breathed out, slowly and painfully loud. He closed his eyes right in front of Sam, his hand that was clutching to Sam's hoodie fell loosely on the bed and…he went home.

"Ryan?" he shook the boy's arm, giving it a little more force when he got no response. The alarms went into loud banging and beeping and cracking when they didn't pick up a heartbeat anymore.

"Ryan!?"

Dean reached his hand to Ryan's neck and felt for a pulse. The machines told him all he needed to know, but he still hoped for electricity fallout or something. But no. There was no fluttering underneath his fingers, no breathing from the boy and he knew he was dead. No one could be able to help him, not even the doctors with all their equipment. Leroy took him somehow and what a ghost takes a ghost takes. Or maybe Ryan was just tired…he just wanted to go home after all.

"Sam." Dean tried to get to Sam, who was still franticly shaking Ryan's shoulder. After getting no response from his brother, he ran around the bed to get to him.

He tugged him back by his hoodie: "Sam," he pried Sam's fingers from Ryan's shoulder, "Sammy, hey come on. We have to go."

"Ryan…"

Dean rotated Sam so they were facing each other and looked at his broken brother standing in front of him, with the early morning sun illuminating the room, dispersing in the deep, glistering eyes of his brother, making everything look bright, too bright: "Sammy, he's gone, he's dead. We have to go," he tugged stronger, making Sam follow him and almost crashing them into the door, "we have to leave; we can't do anything here anymore."

Sam knew Dean was right, he knew they had to leave the place, he knew that Ryan's dead…but the agonizing burn in his chest, prolonging a scream he had building in there, was numbing. His feet barely got all the orders that Dean had for him in the form of run, left, come on, come here, stairs Sam, move, right, watch for the trash can…sit.

He smelled it then. The leather seats, the stench of the burgers, the apple pie and the chocolate cookies…Impala…home.

"Sammy?"

"Sam?"

He felt something being pushed into his hand, something long, thin and familiar. It was still warm, from when Dean was holding it. His fingers were pushed into a fist, shielding the object from anything and everyone.

"Sammy hey, come on."

He looked down into his hand and saw the thin bracelet Dean had taken off when he had to bandage his wrist. The familiar feeling of holding it in his hand was enough to let out one tear and one deep breath.

"Sammy, hey, it's alright. You're O.K., you're fine."

Dean was scared. Sam was staring through the window, still and silent for most of the ride back to their motel, clenching and unclenching his hand to see and feel his bracelet

"We'll put that on when your wrist heals, O.K.?"

Sam rotated his head towards the voice he knew from somewhere, but couldn't quite put it in place. It was all hum to him, a melody…a lullaby.

"Sam, I'm going inside to get our things. You wait for me here, I'll be right back." And with that Dean exited the car, leaving Sam to gaze through the window into space.

The day was hot even at 6 in the morning and Sam knew it would get even hotter throughout the day.

"Sam?!"

"Sammy!!"

Dean thought the 'nickname' would bring his brother from wherever his mind took him. Wherever it was, it was too far away from here.

Finally hearing the voice in its right form, his brother's voice, Dean's voice...he looked at him.

"He died, he just died."

Dean was concentrating on the road when Sam whispered the words.

They came as a shock to him, more the volume of them not the meaning.

"Sam…" he gripped the wheel tighter.

"We killed Leroy, he was doing all of this, Ryan should be fine…" he was trying to keep his tears in check, but it was so hard when the only thoughts he had were of death, failure and seeing Ryan's eyes close right in front of him.

"Sam, you know we can't save everyone."

Silence ruled the car for a while, when Sam had to find his voice.

"He was just fifteen."

"I know." He didn't need to look at Sam's direction to see that tear ready to fall.

"We can't save everyone, Sam."

"I know."

Silence.

"We did the best we could, Sam. Ryan was just not as strong as you are."

"You think I'm strong?" and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I think you're annoying. I…of course I think you're strong, man…" you could have died.

"Thanks." He mumbled with his hands fidgeting with the loose skin near his thumb.

Silence. Such loud silence.

"I know, it's just that…"

"Sam, no. You can't do this to yourself. Leroy had Ryan long before we got there…"

"We killed Leroy and Ryan should be fine…"

"Sam, you know things don't always go by the rules…"

"I know."

"Listen, Sam, hey, what happened to Ryan…Leroy had him for a long time, the nurse I had coffee with told me that Ryan had been like that for 5 years. I think that all those five years he was seeing the things that were happening to Leroy."

Sam looked at him.

"Ryan suffered…a lot. The nurse said he got these bruises, and cuts and things, unexplainable things, seizures and things… They didn't know what to do, so they kept him catatonic. And then, one day you came along and Ryan sensed you and he started to project everything Leroy was doing, to you."

"I know."

"I'm telling you, Sam…you are a magnet for these things."

"Funny." He glared out the window and thought of Ryan. Scattered thoughts, he kept chasing around his mind and then he caught one small thought. The brightest thought he could catch.

"At least he's free now. He went home…in a way."

"That's the spirit, Sammy."

Sam smiled softly, barely showing his dimples. He let the nickname slide, in a way he needed it right now.

After a while Dean couldn't keep it in anymore.

"Sam, why did you pee so much?"

"Leroy…he wasn't allowed to."

"He wasn't allowed to pee? Why?"

A vision he kept secret all this time entered his mind.

-:-

"Leroy, how are we doing today?" with a mock voice of sincerity.

Leroy was spread out on his bed, nothing but flies and bugs keeping him company.

He watched the man walk around his bed, stopped by the foot of the bed and smiled. A wicked smile, one with teeth and lips that stretch to the ears.

"You gonna pee anytime soon?"

"Take me to the bathroom. I can't… I won't…"

"You aren't even supposed to."

And with that he was gone.

Leroy knew that if he did, he would get punished. He didn't wanna go down that road.

-:-

"I don't know why. I don't know." They were torturing him, Dean, but you don't need to know that, just don't ask.

"And he had his bladder full all the time? And Ryan? And you? I don't get it."

"Some things Dean I guess are just not to be get." Just leave this alone, Dean.

"Yeah, I guess."

After a mile of silence again that dragged for ever in Dean's mind he had to ask once more, had to be sure once more.

"Sammy," he cleared his throat, "are you alright?"

"Haven't we already covered this?"

"Sam," he dared to look away from the road, only to be met by Sam's large eyes, "I mean are you O.K. down there? Do you need a doctor?"

He really wished Sam would say no, but on the other hand, Sam would lie.

"God, man, can we just drop this?" he covered his head with his hands and let out one exasperated breath. More of a huff. He could feel his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Dude, just answer my question."

After one long breath: "No, I'm fine."

Lying, are we?

"It burns a little, but I think I'll be fine. And before you ask my head is fine, my bones are fine, my skin is fine, I'm fine."

"Sam…" there was a warning in his voice, one that Sam picked up immediately.

"Dean." he looked at his brother, just as Dean looked at him and through their eyes Dean saw Sam was far from being alright, and Sam just saw concern.

"Man I'll be fine, you don't have to…"

"What? Take care of you? Worry about you? What?"

"Dean…"

"Well sorry Sammy, as long as you live under my roof, I'm gonna take care of you."

"Your roof?"

Dean just raised his hand to the ceiling of the Impala and banged softly on it: "My roof."

Sam left out a breath, what else could he do?

After passing the corn field where all this started, Sam remembered something: "You promised me I could drive, Dean and listen to my music."

"What? When?"

"When I opened my eyes, when you asked me to."

"I never…"

"Pull over and Suck. It. Up."

Dean grumbled something under his breath that sounded like 'he remembers that, but can't remember when it's his time to…' The rest was disguised by the crack of the Impala door opening. Sam chuckled and slid behind the wheel.

He showed his widest grin to Dean, when he sat in the passenger seat.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Sam, or I swear…"

"You'll do what?"

Dean mumbled something incoherent and looked out the window. Every so often he glanced to Sam, how he was relaxed behind the wheel, how his hands slid smoothly over it, never faltering from the path on the road.

We're home Sammy…relax, that's it.

I'm home…nice and comfy.

After minutes of comfortable silence, Dean broke it: "Man, turn over somewhere, I've gotta pee."

Sam rolled his eyes.

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THE END

Yey, I've finished the story. Any comments?