28

"David, for christ's sake!" Alarmed at what was happening, Sam had leapt to his feet. The monitors that read Dean's condition were screaming now. He was flat-lining, and beginning to turn blue. David was already in motion, and Dennis had skidded into the room at the alert. Missouri was stiff as a corpse, wide-eyed and open-mouthed-her small hand gripping Dean's wrist so hard that her nails were digging in. Sam leapt at her and tore her hand away, and the moment he did, she looked at him in utter shock before her eyes rolled up and she fainted dead away.

Dean's own eyes flew open and he gasped, heaving in air desperately. His return to conciousness was met by sheer chaos, there was a panic of activity over him, blinding lights, shouting, scurrying, tense faces flashing in and out of view. Sounds were blurred and strange, his skin prickled with an odd coldness. He tried to speak but only croaked. As sensation flooded back to his body, he felt hands on him, rough and insistent, and when he could focus he saw a pair of defibrilators, poised to shock his failing heart back to rhythm.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" he choked out, struggling against the hold, and twisting away. Strangers gripped him and pinned him to the bed, and he squirmed against their hold.

"Keep him still!" someone barked.

But he bucked against them, swearing. "No! Leave me alone, jesus, I'm ok! I'm not tanking! Stop it!"

His resistance was convincing, it was strong, hardly the reaction of a dying man. As soon as the medical staff ascertained that he was indeed back, the paddles disappeared from his view, and they covered his face with an oxygen mask before he could protest further. Confused and dizzy, he had no choice but to let them do their thing.. A few more minutes of what seemed like panic passed, and the tension broke in the room. The machines told the rest of the story, the levels and lights proving that the danger had truly passed. Dean searched around wildly, still strangely disconnected and trying to make sense of what was happening. He gulped the oxygen hungrily, starved for it thanks to his fleeting brush with the afterlife. His blurred eyes took in the room, with all the people hovering. Sam, and David... Dennis, and others who were strangers. He saw Missouri, coming-to from her faint, her waving hands impatiently brushing away the attentions of the nurses.

He pulled away the mask. "What the hell?!" he demanded. His voice was so husky and slight that it surprised even him. "I was sleeping!"

Sam looked to be near tears. "No dude, sleeping was hardly what was happening. You were flat-lining, you understand? Dean, you were checking out!"

Dean stared at him in a stupor. "What..?"

David stepped in. "Welcome back, you squirrelly sonofabitch! You had us all crapping ourselves, and thank-you very much!" His smile was shaky, slightly unhinged, as if he'd just sped through hell naked on a harley and come out unscathed on the other side.

"Flat-lining... What, like..?"

"Yeah! End game, Dean! And with no will to prove all the good stuff goes to me!" Sam added, fooling no one with his tone.

Dean waved off the attentions of the staff that hovered near. "Jesus! Well...shit, sorry... I was just talking to-" He paused in confusion. He glanced then at Missouri, who had settled herself back into a chair, fanning herself with a fluttering hand. "I was talking to-"

"To Paul. Or Fionn, as he wants now." she finished for him.

Dean stared around at his current reality. His surroundings were so different from where he'd been a few moments ago. "Yeah...Finn. And he said.." He stopped then. Paul's words were deeply personal. He did not feel comfortable sharing here and now. " uh... Nothing...nevermind."

Missouri met his eyes and offered a wan smile. She looked haggard, and worn out. Dean realized the effect it had on her, and he asked in sudden concern, "You ok, Missouri? This thing, with Paul, and me... It wasn't what you signed on for, I'm sure."

Her eyes were soft, but masked nonetheless. She shrugged him off. "Oh. Don't you worry, sweetheart. I'm fine. Your friend may have chosen me to be his conduit, but I always know what I'm wandering into. I let it happen, you know. I can choose who to hear, I could have shut this out. And I know the other side has a certain... effect. But nothing I ain't experienced before." She leaned closer then, whispering so softly that he barely heard her words. "Did you hear him? Your friend, did his words reach you..?"

He nodded slightly, and she smiled in relief. She reached out and squeezed his hand, tears filming her eyes. "Well...I am so glad I could help you all." she said, fighting to keep her composure. "It don't always work so well. The others, they're usually angry, they don't often have such fine things to say."

Sam and David, still in the dark, exchanged glances. Sam knew that something significant had transpired. He could already see a change in Dean's eyes. A spark had returned, a flash of life that hinted at some sort of resolution. Now that it was over, Sam was sure that the terrifying moments of Dean's lifelessness were deliberately orchestrated somehow, and profoundly important. He guessed that through Missouri, the veil had been pierced, and Dean had seen the other side.

Still frazzled, Dennis broke the spell. "Well, I'm glad you all feel such warm and fuzzy relief, but allow me to have a little professional concern here!" He was seated beside Dean where he lay, still monitoring the machinery. "You just flat-lined, Winchester! And with no reason, as far as I can tell! You were doing better, damn-it! We had this thing finally under control!"

Missouri stood then. She reached out and took hold of Dennis's elbow, and patted his hand. "Sweetheart, come with me. You look like a man who needs a little education." She glanced back at Dean, his brother and best friend in close attendance. "Are you alright then, boy..? Can we leave you?"

He nodded.

"Well good. Excuse us for a moment." She steered Dennis out into the hall, leaving the rest of them alone.

Dean swallowed drily. He closed his eyes, feeling a wave of faintness. It left him trembling after his experience. David pressed the oxygen mask back over his face, and he accepted it wearily. He knew both of them wanted to hear his version of what had transpired in the short period of time that had nearly cost him his life. But he wasn't ready, by any means, to discuss it.

Sam was still tense and hovering. "Dean...are you ok? I mean really? You nearly checked out there, -christ, I thought ...I mean I was sure that you-" He stopped speaking. It was pointless now anyway, it seemed that Dean was all right.

Dean met his brother's eyes. "Sammy, I'm real sorry I scared you there. I didn't know... I was on this beach, it was so weird... I didn't know what the hell was going on at first. But it was good, actually.. I saw people.. I talked to Paul, on the other side. It was pretty freaky, but he set me straight on a few things. But I'm so damned tired now... I'll tell you about all of this later, but for now, I just have to..." His eyes were heavy, and Sam could see the effort it took him to keep going. He turned to David.

"David? Is he ok to sleep now?"

David nodded. He knew that every monitor was reading within acceptable levels again. And he too knew that some element had changed. Dean had seen something, or heard something, that seemed to make a difference. He spoke briefly to the attending nurses, and then turned to the brothers. "I think maybe that's a good idea." He turned to Dean, "Glad you decided to stay around, Winchester. Excuse me while I go puke and pass out for a few hours."

Dean didn't let him go. He reached out a hand and grasped David's. "Thanks, David," he said quietly. "..for everything."

David squeezed back. "Don't you ever do that to me again!" he growled. He had to go then, his emotions welling and threatening to expose his soft core. He left without further word.

It was truly remarkable. Dean rallied after the episode. He was already on the mend due to the efforts of his friends, but whatever had been the barrier to his healing was lifted now. He began to bounce back like he used to, in the past. Within a week, Dennis felt comfortable discharging him, as long as David agreed to keep watch over him until he was satisfied. He was settled back in to the guest room at David's, and he behaved himself. As a matter fact, he was so uncharacteristically easy that Sam found yet another reason to worry. He'd talked to David about it, and he took Dean to task over it now.

"Dean...are you sure everything is ok with you?"

Dean sighed patiently. It wasn't the first time that day that Sam had voiced his concern. "Yeah, Sam. No nightmares.. sleeping like a baby, I'm eating like horse, and I'm back to my regular, unhealthy level of alcoholism. My pants fit like I have no ass, but it's all good, ok? So quit worrying, already."

Sam frowned at his reassurances. "Good..." he murmured, unconvinced.

Dean knew the look. He sighed. "What now..?"

"It's just.. Dean...you're so damned laid-back now, after everything you've suffered through. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're dealing with it all so well. But it's such a total one-eighty from just a short time ago. It's like you're... I don't know, like you should be wearing a saffron robe and holding a flower. After all this happened, after watching you sink so deep, it's just weird for me."

Dean cocked his head. The two were sitting out back, in the cool evening. They were nursing beers, waiting for David to finish his shift. "I'm not normally this laid-back?"

Sam wasn't sure what he wanted to say, or what he wanted to hear. It had been a long, hard haul. "Well, you have been known to be a little... tightly wound. I'm not complaining or anything...it's great to see you relax, just that it's not really your style. I'm glad you found some peace after everything, but..."

"But what?"

"Shit, Dean! I don't know. I guess I'm still paranoid, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I just want to know that this is really over, in a way. I'm worried that the way you're reacting now is kind of a temporary high, and I'm afraid of the crash. I mean, you went through the wringer big time. We all did. It was a hard, complicated hunt, one that we didn't even choose, and it had a long time of recovery. I guess I just need to know that this really is done now."

Dean snorted softly. Done. It was never done. But he knew what Sam meant. He drew a deep swallow from his bottle, and put it aside. He clasped his hands together, and turned to his brother. "Sam, I swear to you and anything else listening, that I am fine. I'm better than I've been for a long time, really. And here's why, ok?"

Sam leaned forward, wanting desperately to be reassured after everything he'd gone through with Dean.

Dean hated when Sam was so intense. But he knew that he'd been the cause of it. He was silent for a long while, before he spoke. The crickets in the lawn were starting up. The air was still and quiet, the stars beginning to brighten as the blue of the sky faded toward darkness. He thought about his words, measuring them with deliberate care. "Ok. Listen up, Sam.. I get that you're worried. And there is no denying that this whole thing from beginning to end was a cluster-fuck. It threw me a curve, and it was way bigger than even I knew. All sorts of shit was wrapped up in this...Dad, and what he taught us, Lenore and her band, the concept that maybe there is middle ground between us and what we hunt, that maybe it isn't all black and white, and that I might have killed when it wasn't deserved. And Iris, jesus. It brought in the whole brother thing, Sam. I killed hers, and it nearly destroyed her. I sure as hell wouldn't have let it ride, if something ever happened to you. So I couldn't blame her, no matter what she did to me. I'd have done exactly what she did, you know. I would've hunted down anyone who hurt you until I was satisfied, consequences be damned. And then there was Paul. Christ, he showed me new sides to things that I didn't even want to think about. A reluctant vampire, denying the evil inside him, beating it down, in love with a human girl, looking out for her anyway even though he knew she was out of reach. He could have turned her, and the three of them could have embraced their nature and lived like kings, but he wouldn't do that. A monk, for christs sake...he had more god-given morality than I'll ever have, and he never lost an ounce of it even after the change. Huge concepts, Sam; way more than I was ready to deal with." He sighed and stared at his hands. "In the end, Iris died, not because she had a vendetta, but because she let go of her hate. And Paul, well it took guts for him to force his own death. I just couldn't do it when it was time, thank god David stepped up. The whole scenario was so crappy at the time, just bloody and sad and ugly. But then I saw him, on his peaceful beach, surrounded by his friends, basking in the sun that he'd been denied for so long, finally able to love his girl, ...well, he set it straight for me. He said alot, but bottom line was he was actually thanking me for bringing them all together there. He was thanking me for killing them. It cut me loose, Sam. The guilt that was choking me...jesus, I couldn't take it anymore. But Paul told me that ultimately his death, and Conrad's, were right. He said that I should always consider the grey areas when I hunt, but that the reality was still there, that most of what we hunt is going to end up a tragedy one way or another, if we don't finish what we start. Sam, ever since Lenore, I was in a screwed up state about what we do. And I've known for a long, long time that Dad wasn't a saint, and that he was a mess, really. But I didn't want to admit it. I've been so damned aware, lately, that he was just another neurotic and obsessive victim, reacting to the crap in his own life, and raising us in the same screwed-up mind-set. My whole freaking foundation was shook...you understand?"

Sam nodded.

Dean sighed and continued. "Paul had a big part in letting me off my own hook. But he wasn't the only one. When I finally got my head out of my own ass, I saw what I was doing to you, and to David. Even to that little prick Dennis. I snapped out of it and realized that I have a lot more to live for than I have to die for. I can't change a lot of the crap that I've seen, and done. I can't change what we grew up through. But I can use it, to see a little more clearly in future. Aw christ, Sam-I'm not freaking Shakespeare here, I don't know if I'm saying any of this right! Look, what I'm trying to tell you here is that I guess I picked up a healthy dose of perspective through all of this. I know what I am, I know I'm not perfect. And I know Dad wasn't either, but what we do is still the right thing. I might look at each new hunt a little more closely, just so I know my own motives and maybe what other angles there might be to things. But I'm still a hunter. And what we do is still good for the world." He laughed then. "It'll drive me into an early, bloody grave, but at least now I know I was on the right track."

Sam stared at him long after he'd stopped speaking. Dean finally had to say something. "Quit staring at me like I'm Gandhi, for christ's sake!"

Sam smiled with embarrassment. "Sorry. I'm just...really glad to hear all that. Hell, Dean, most of the time I have no idea what's right or wrong, or up or down, right or left. I rely on you for that. I need you to point me in the right direction, so when you lost your own way, I had no freaking idea where to go. I need you to...to know where we're headed. I have this history, and this really scary future. I don't want to be up in front, Dean. I'm not a leader. I need to follow where you think we should go."

Dean had to look down. Sam's eyes were shining with emotion, and he just couldn't take that. He simply nodded, staring hard at the ants on the flagstones. He cleared his throat after a time, pursing his lips in his typical way so that the dimples above deepened. He solemnly met Sam's eyes in the evening dusk. "Well," he said decisively. "I guess you're screwed then, Sammy. Cuz I'm going to hell in a hand-basket." He wasn't sure why, but he burst out laughing.

Sam blinked. The heaviness of the moment broke, and he too was struck by the absurdity of things. He had to laugh in response, and it overtook them to the point that they were incoherent, eyes streaming and short of breath. It was Dean who finally brought them back down.

"Ok, Sam. We've crawled all through our freaking navels, are we done now? I'm pretty much emo'd out here. I seriously need another beer."

Sam sighed, tired but satisfied. "Get me one while you're at it." He followed Dean in, the mosquitoes were becoming insistent, and David was due soon anyway.

When David did come in, he found his guests sprawled asleep on the sofas. The dog leapt down from the crook of Sam's arm and barked his usual dancing welcome. David roughed him up and greeted the brothers as they yawned hello. Sam had made a big crock-pot beef stew earlier, and he pointed David in the direction, following him to the kitchen. David was starving after his shift, and he filled a bowl, grabbed three beers and headed toward the living room. But he stopped, remembering the conversation he and Sam had that morning. Speaking softly, he turned to him and asked.. "Did you talk to him..?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I think maybe I've been worrying about nothing. He told me a lot of things, and I think he's even more positive now, about a lot of stuff, than before all this happened. It's weird, but I think it's good."

David nodded. He too had witnessed Dean's change in demeanor, and he wanted it to be permanent as much as Sam did. "So you're pretty sure he isn't snowing us, then..?" He knew as well as Sam did that Dean often hid his true state from the people he cared about.

"Christ, David, I never know that! But right now, I think things are on the upswing. I think he's honestly past a lot of really heavy issues."

Their quiet words were interrupted by an impatient voice from the livingroom. "Hey! Get your asses in here, I want my beer!"

David shrugged and grinned. "Sir, yes sir!" he replied, catching Sam's eye. Sam shook his head, smiling.

Once he was well enough, Dean was chafing to be on the road. He was always stir-crazy after these down-times, and he was constantly worried that their presence would be a threat to those who helped them. David knew that from previous experience, and he didn't argue when Dean announced that they were leaving. It was pointless to try. But he was truly saddened.

He sighed. "You know you don't have to go... not on my account anyway."

"Yeah, I know, David. You say that every time. But you know why we have to go."

David nodded. Reality was what it was, and no amount of wishing would change it. "When?"

"Tonight, probably. There's a few things I still need to do, and we need to pack up, and maybe do some laundry first."

David sat back in his favourite chair and played with the dog's ears. "Does Sam know?"

Dean looked pained for a moment. He knew how valued the security and stability of the Doc's home was to Sam. "I'll talk to him when he gets back. He went out to do something this morning, he was being weirdly tight-lipped about it."

David nodded. He knew what Sam was up to, and he kept quiet. He also knew that Sam had anticipated this, and was preparing for it. David changed the subject. "Any destination in mind?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, nothing hunt-related will be taking us anywhere. You and Dennis made that clear enough. So no, no-where special. I guess I'll let Sam choose this time." David and Dennis had cornered Dean a few days earlier. Dennis made his case quite forcefully; Dean was to avoid exposure to moulds, fungus, and any products of decomposition for at least six weeks, to allow his system to fully recover from his illness. It was a fairly limiting edict, considering what they did. But he agreed, knowing that they all had spent a lot of effort to keep him breathing in recent weeks and he owed them as much.

David smiled. He already knew where Sam wanted to be, and it was not hunting-related in the least. "Well. I'm late, as usual. Promise you won't leave before my shift is over, Dean."

Dean did. When David was gone, he was left alone, and he busied himself with gathering their things and washing what needed it. In between loads, he played with Mayhem, throwing the lacrosse ball endlessly for him. He would miss staying here with David, he realized. It was comfortingly normal. A while later, Sam returned, looking slightly smug. Dean looked up from his folding. "Where were you?"

"Out." Sam sat down, and he took over playing with the dog.

The subterfuge irked Dean. "Look, what was so important that you had to go while I was stuck here doing all the laundry and shit? I've got things to do too, you know!"

Sam evaded him. "Why are you doing all the laundry?"

Dean was cornered. "Well, because, it's time for us to hit the road. And don't give me any crap, Sam! We've been here long enough, and we're jeopardizing David by staying."

To his surprise, Sam agreed this time. "Yeah, I figured this was coming. The signs were there days ago." He started to pile the folded clothes, but Dean stopped him.

"You know we have to go!" he said. "We're bleeding David dry here!"

"Yeah, Dean...I know. I already said so. I get it." He continued gathering.

"Sam, seriously, we can't stay any longer, it's not fair to David! And we just need to be somewhere new now, ok? This is just the way it is!"

Sam stopped. "Dean. I said I know. And I meant it. I know you worry about pulling me out of here, but don't. I'm ready, ok? I want to head out. Stop feeling guilty about it!"

Dean swore. He looked away, embarrassed that his brother could read him so well. "So you're ok with going then..?"

"Yeah, Dean. Like I said, it's time."

Dean had expected more fight. The lack of it left him uncomfortably confused. He changed the subject. "I have to head out for a bit, to do some things. There's another load in the washer-throw it in the dryer when it buzzes, ok?" He didn't wait to hear Sam's response, he stalked out, grabbed the keys from the counter and left.

It wasn't a ruse, he really did have a task. He pulled up at the Boothe Street Mission. Lucas was there, and he greeted Dean warmly. "You look well." he said, with quiet satisfaction.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. A lot better. Listen, Lucas, I wanted to thank you, and Father Elliot, for helping me. It meant a lot-more than you know. I wish he was around, but I'm glad I at least got to say it to you. Here-" He handed a small packet to Lucas. "This ought to help with some of your overhead. It belonged to the sonofabitch that hurt the old man in the church that day. Seemed like justice to pass it on to you now."

Lucas turned his attention to the thing he'd been handed. He unwrapped it and the gold chain and coin slid out into his hand. He whistled. "Is that real gold..?"

"Yeah. Pretty high carat. Don't let those bastards at the pawn shops cheat you, Lucas. You ought to get a couple grand out of it at the least."

Lucas stared at it, and back to Dean. "Man...are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure."

"Wow. Then I thank you, Dean. It will be a great help."

Dean nodded shyly. "Yeah, well, it seemed like the thing to do. Anyway, take care, Lucas. Father Elliot did good work. So do you. Just wish I could have told him so."

Lucas smiled. "Yes, he did. And Dean..?"

"Mmm?"

"He knows how you feel. He's smiling down on you, right now."

Dean returned the smile as he moved to leave. "Yeah. I'll bet he's got a full glass of scotch raised, toasting the both of us."

Lucas laughed heartily. "Oh you can bet on it! Fare-well, son. Remember us."

"I will."

The goodbyes were always painful. Dean liked David immensely, more than anyone else he could think of. So did Sam. And he knew what he owed David. And David, for his part, had grown very fond of the Winchesters. He felt as if they were all brothers. The leaving, after such bittersweet stays, was always hard.

David held Mayhem in his arms. The scruffy dog squirmed, eager to leap into the Impala, but David knew that. He whispered into a curly ear, trying to calm him down. He was really just hiding behind the dog, trying to keep a stiff upper lip himself. When Dean and Sam left his home, as they had many times before, he was always filled with a terrible dread that it was the last time he would ever see them alive.

Dean shook his hand solemnly. "David...thanks." Sam had done so earlier.

David nodded. "Call me if you need anything. Or if you find a great spot-I could use a damned vacation myself, I'll be there in a sec!"

Dean smiled and nodded. He got into the car and settled behind the wheel. "Tell Dennis to bite me." he grinned, as the engine roared to life.

David laughed. "Will do."

Sam settled against his seat. "So...where now?"

"We can go wherever you want Sam. Your pick this time. The last couple places I chose kinda sucked." It was an understatement.

"Really? Totally my pick?"

"As long as it's not too stupid!"

Sam didn't hesitate. "Beach. Give me some sun and sand! I want to do nothing but lay on a towel and fry. David said you can't go on any hunts for a while, right? So we have nothing better to do anyway."

Dean groaned. He didn't do 'beach' very well. But he'd promised, and Sam was right, since his hunting wings were clipped for the moment, he had no reason to avoid a little vacation. But he searched desperately for an obstacle. "How are we going to pay for this, by the way? If we head south, the motels will be way too expensive. And I'm not sleeping in the car again, not when it's eighty degrees out!"

Sam grinned smugly. "I've already got it covered. I need to make a stop, before we're out of the city. This address-" He produced a scrap of paper with directions scrawled on it.

"So what is this place?" Dean asked warily.

"You'll see."

Dean made a face, but he indulged Sam. When they reached the destination, Sam took a cloth wrapped item from the back seat. "Back in a few minutes." he said, hopping up the stairs and disappearing into a building. Dean could see no identifying signs, he had no idea what Sam was up to, and it made him nervous. He waited for fifteen anxious minutes before his brother re-emerged.

"What's going on, Sam?" he demanded. "What the hell was that all about?"

"Well, I did some research online about that sword of Paul's. Here-count this." He handed a thick wad of bills to Dean, who stared at the windfall with astonishment. "Go ahead, Dean, count it."

Dean looked at him askance, but did so. When he finished, he was incredulous. "There's over six grand here!"

"Six thousand three hundred, to be exact."

The money alarmed Dean. "What the hell did you do, have somebody suck out a kidney just now? Where'd this come from?!"

Sam snatched it back, folding it and stowing it safely in the glove box. "No Dean. I was trying to tell you. I remembered Paul talking about the sword he had, that he got it from some guy a long time ago, who told him that it was japanese, and that the steel was folded hundreds of times, and the rest of it. Well I figured we'd probably never use it, and maybe it had some value to it..."

"And?!"

"And so I looked into it. Turns out it's really old, like six hundred years. It's from the Koto period, and the symbols on it mean different things, like-"

"Yeah, whatever, get to the point!"

He sighed. "The point, Dean, is that I hooked up with a collector, and he gave me a pretty good offer on it. Might have gotten more, if we wanted to wait and put it in an auction of militaria and antique weapons. But I figured this was pretty good."

Dean stared at him with a rare look of pure admiration. "Six grand from nothing is pretty damned good all right. Awesome! Way to go, Sam!"

Sam beamed. "Yeah, it'll be nice to have a few bucks to play with for a change. So maybe we can see how the other half lives for a little while."

"Sure, yeah." Dean was already parcelling the money out in his mind, -new tires, brake work, muffler- And it made his donation to the Mission a lot less painful. He knew that he and Sam could have used the money it would have brought, but he needed to do it anyway, for Fr. Elliot's memory. Now, the monetary value of the thing was irrelevant. It raised his spirits to soaring, it was nice to have things go their way for once. Dean put the Impala in gear and pulled away. Sam watched him until he had to laugh. Dean was whistling. He was actually whistling...