It was, hands down, the hardest thing Dean had ever done in his life driving away and leaving his brother standing there on the side of the road. He had barely gone a mile before the urge to stop, to turn the fucking car around, and go back for Sam became almost overwhelming. But then he remembered the expression on Sam's face when the younger boy basically told him he didn't need him, didn't even want him around, and Dean kept driving. Every single mile he wanted to go back, every single mile he forced himself to keep driving. Abandoning his baby brother on the side of the road, hating himself more than anything for it, but he didn't go back. This was what Sam had wanted after all. This is what they'd been building to for months now.

He'd tried. He really had. Dean had tried to take care of Sam. He had tried to give his brother a home. He had tried protect the younger boy. But no matter how hard he tried he either failed or had his efforts thrown back in his face in the cruelest possible way. He'd tried for over a year and a half, yes there had been some good times during that time, but those times were gone in a flicker and then they'd be right back at each other's throats. Dean just had to accept that his efforts weren't good enough for Sam, and even though he loved the younger boy more than anything his love just wasn't enough for Sam anymore either... if it had ever been enough.

After about an hour of driving, even though Dean hated himself even more for even thinking it, he couldn't help but wonder if this was the reason Dad had left. Maybe Dad wasn't in trouble. Maybe their father hadn't been hurt or killed on a hunt. Maybe John Winchester had simply left them. Maybe Sam's resentment, rebelliousness, and hate towards their father and their life had finally driven the older man away. Could he even blame the older man for it? For abandoning them, because wasn't that what Dean was doing right now?

Dean didn't go far, only to the next town. First he stopped at a liquor store and then he got a motel room. He drank until he literally passed out but the whiskey did nothing to dull the pain in his heart Sam's rejection had caused him. The next morning, Dean stayed in his motel room all day, sitting on the bed and wondering what the hell he was going to do.

Yes, he was worried about Sam, and every second he had to fight not to race back to his brother, but he knew the younger boy would be fine. Sam was only fourteen, going on fifteen, but he wasn't a little kid. He knew Sam would have gone back to the apartment. It was paid up through the month and there was plenty of food. Sam wasn't homeless and he wouldn't starve. His brother would just be without him. Exactly what Sam wanted...

Well, at least Dean had until the end of the month to decide what the hell to do. It actually took him that long to decide.

On his way out of town Dean stopped at the post office and mailed his brother what was left of his money from working at the supermarket all these months. More than enough to pay for rent and for Sam to buy more food. Then Dean got into the Impala and started driving. Every week like clockwork he made sure to stop at a post office and send Sam as much money as he could however he could make it. Dean always made sure that his brother would have enough for rent and food, even if he sometimes had to go without a few meals and sleep in the car on occasion.

He hunted. Taking out his anger at the world on whatever supernatural beast he came across. He stitched himself up afterwards. He drank himself to sleep more often than not. He hustled, he stole, he whored. He did what he had to make sure he could send his brother money every week. But he never sent a letter with the cash. He never even wrote his name on the envelope and all the return addresses were PO Boxes, not like Sam wouldn't know who it came from anyway. After two months of taking care of Sam from afar, staying away like his brother obviously wanted, Dean broke and went back. He wasn't planning on talking to the younger boy, he wasn't even planning on letting Sam know he was there, he just wanted to make sure his brother was doing ok, and then he'd leave again and stay away for good.

Sam had really thought Dean would come back. He waited and waited, even forgoing sleep in case Dean came back, saw him asleep and left again. Sam waited and waited. He skipped his paper route, skipped school, and waited.

Dean didn't come back that day.

He didn't come back that week.

Sam stayed home. He fell asleep when he nodded off against his better judgment and when he woke up he was always panicked, always convinced that Dean must have come and left again.

Until... until the mail came in, and there was money in it. Sam knew it was from Dean. Sam knew this was as much of contact he was going to get from the older boy as ever. At first he stared at the heavy envelope numbly, even his fingers gone cold and his brain refused to work. He turned the envelope this way and that, looking for any words Dean might have written to him, any messages, any sort of timeline as to when he was coming to get him...

He hadn't.

Then Sam had gotten so angry he had thrown the envelope across the room, not caring where it landed, and in a fit of pure rage, he had thrown the things in the apartment around, destroying it to the point of not having any place to walk. When he had exhausted himself, he curled into a ball of crying, hiccuping mess... the sort he hadn't thought he was capable.

He missed Dean like a part of his soul was gone, and he was giving up hope that Dean would ever come get him again.

Sam refused to touch the money Dean sent him. Instead he started storing it in a folder, week after week after week. He used the money he earned from the paper route, and took up a second job at the grocery store, the very same Dean had left. With running a paper route and working a shift at the grocery store, Sam was too tired to bother with school. He didn't even care anymore, actually.

His fifteenth birthday came and went, and Sam spent it sitting in his living room, drinking a beer and watching a horror movie marathon, trying not to think about how the couch was too empty.

Then one day, his 'friends' from school came into the grocery store, saw him working and they struck up a chat. They offered to bring pot over to Sam's apartment that night, get really smashed, and by now Sam was craving any kind of human contact. Anything at all. So he said yes. That night Sam learned about how people could be more monstrous than some of the things they had hunted. With a locked door behind them, and an entire apartment available to them, they seemed to change. They all turned on him, demanding things Sam wasn't ready to give, and when they started grabbing him, he beat the shit out of Brody and then held a gun to Jake's head to get them to leave. That night he got drunk by himself and found that he couldn't even cry.

Eight weeks after Dean left him, Sam was heading for the grocery store when he was blindsided by a two by four as he turned the corner. He landed hard, vision swimming as he tried to get his bearings.

"Break my nose, huh bitch?!" Brody screamed, and Sam had a moment to hold an arm up before a crowbar came whistling through the air. It landed on his flank, stealing Sam's breath. "I'll teach you a fucking lesson!" He yelled before grabbing Sam's legs in an attempt to pull him into an alleyway. Sam yelled, trying to attract attention and kicked at Brody's stomach, but his angle was bad and all he did was infuriate Brody further who then proceeded to punch the side of Sam's face so hard Sam felt himself get whiplash.

"HELP!" Sam shouted as loudly as he could, and Ben nodded at Jake who brought out duct tape. Sam struggled harder, trying to keep them from putting it on his mouth but Ben held his head and Jake taped his mouth shut.

"Too bad you had to go and scream. We were planning on using that pretty mouth of yours," Brody said, grinning widely. "It's alright though. There are other holes we can make use of."

Sam's eyes widened as he realized what they wanted to do and he bucked, trying to throw them off him. Jake easily climbed over his chest, holding Sam's arms down with his knees and looking down at him. "Hey, I actually liked you," Jake said softly, hand caressing his cheek, "But then you had to go and put a gun to my head. I asked nicely, you know, but you were such a goddamn cocktease..." Jake leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sam's duct covered lips.

Sam's hands twisted at his sides, trying to find some leverage as Brody started fiddling with his belt. Sam let out a strangled scream, begging them to stop but all that got him were Jake's fingers in his hair, caressing his scalp in an almost tender way.

It wasn’t even three o’clock yet, so Dean had figured that Sam would be still be in school. He parked across the street from the school rather than in the school the parking lot, not wanting to risk his brother recognizing the impala. He knew the younger boy’s schedule so he went straight to the classroom where he expected his brother to be and peered discretely through the class window of the door but he didn’t see Sam.

Dean frowned. Where the hell was Sam? Then turned when he felt someone tap his shoulder.

“Excuse me can I help you?” A short woman wearing a no nonsense expression asked him. Dean recognized her as Sam’s principle. She probably thought he was a drug dealer or a pervert or something.

“Yeah. I’m looking for Sam Winchester. He’s my brother.” Dean replied and the woman’s expression changed. She looked troubled and Dean felt his stomach clench hard.

“Come to my office please.” She said and Dean followed her. He didn’t stay there long. She told him about Sam. What a good student he’d been but then about three months ago something had changed. She told him how his brother had been getting into trouble, that he had been sent to her office more than once for skipping class, his grades dropping, and hanging out with the wrong kind of crowd. Those boys that Dean had found Sam with, he realized.

Then she told him about two months ago Sam had stopped coming to school all together. She told him she had seen Sam working at the grocery store about a week ago, probably taking up the same job Dean had left behind when he’d left his brother. She had tried to talk to the boy apparently, but Sam hadn’t told her anything. She’d been ready to call social services, suspecting some kind of abuse or neglect, when Dean walked into the school.

Dean left her office abruptly after that, ignoring her questions and threats of calling the police, and ran back to the car. Guilt so overwhelming it nearly made him physically ill and hating himself more than he’d ever hated anything. Hating himself more even than the thing that had killed their mother. He was so fucking stupid. So fucking... he had to find Sam. Dean had no idea what he was even going to say to the younger boy when he did, he just knew he had to find him.

He went to the apartment first, but Sam wasn’t there. The place was a mess and when Dean checked the fridge there was barely any food in there even though he had sent Sam plenty of money just a few days ago. Was he really surprised? No, not really. Sam was a stubborn bastard. Always had been. Dean left the apartment quickly then and headed for the damned grocery store. It was the most logical place the younger boy would be. If Sam wasn’t there... Dean would tear this damned town apart looking for his brother.

Dean was so lost in his own thoughts he barley heard the sounds of the scuffle coming from an alley close to the grocery store. He almost ignored it. It wasn’t his problem after all, and he needed to find Sam, not get distracted. But something made him stop. A spike of fear so strong he simply couldn’t ignore it and he ran down the alley. The sight that greeted him made him go cold as ice and his blood boil at the same time. His brother on the ground, bloody, bruised, gagged, and being held down while those same fuckers he’d caught with their hands on the younger boy before tried to strip him naked.

He reacted without thought at all. Grabbing one of the fuckers holding Sam down and throwing him into the brick wall so hard his skull probably cracked open, but Dean didn’t give a shit. The other two looked frightened and pissed at the same time, obviously recognizing him and they got off Sam to rush him together. One of them swinging a fucking crowbar which Dean easily dodged, grabbed, then used to break the bastard’s jaw and knock him out. The last one, the one that had been trying to get his brother’s pants off, had pulled a knife and came after him, figuring he was distracted by the last whimpering moaning fucker he’d put on the ground. Dean easily dodged, then grabbed the guy’s arm, twisting and disarming him before breaking his arm. Dean grabbed the knife then and held it to the asshole’s neck while he sobbed and cradled his arm on the ground.

“You’re lucky I don’t fucking kill you.” Dean whispered and backhanded the guy hard enough to knock him out and stop his pathetic whimpering.

Dean stood slowly and turned to Sam.

Sam had his eyes squeezed closed, not wanting to see everyone's smug expressions as Brody kept working on his jeans, managing to open the fly and then his hand was on Sam's cock and Sam squeezed his eyes so hard he felt pain bloom behind his eyelids. He kicked out with his feet but Brody was sitting in between his legs and his kicks weren't effective at all.

They kept talking to him, calling him filthy things, promising horrible acts they were going to do to him, and then suddenly Jake wasn't sitting on his chest anymore. There were sounds of panic and yelling and Sam was free. Sam opened his eyes, seeing a familiar shape fighting off the guys, fighting so viciously Sam wondered if they'll survive this, and then he realized he didn't care. He stood up slowly, muscles cramped from having been forced in an uncomfortable position for so long, and he first went for his fly, quickly zipping himself up before ripping the duct tape off quickly. It stung, taking a few of his barely there facial hairs with it, but he was more concerned with the person who had helped him today.

Sam would have to be concussed, drunk AND drugged at the same time to not recognize Dean. Currently, he was neither and the minute he saw his big brother, every cell in his body started screaming for him and as soon as Dean had backhanded Brody hard enough to knock him out, Sam was there, grabbing at his shirt, pressing his face into Dean's neck and god, he couldn't stop crying. He had his mouth open, tears streaming down his eyes and fingers fisting in Dean's shirt, pulling it this way and that as he tried to get as close to Dean as possible. He wanted to bitch at him, attack him, beat the shit out of him, but mostly he just wanted to kiss him.

He wrapped his arms around Dean, holding him so tight it was a wonder they didn't fuse into one being. He held him for a long time, his hands gripping the back of Dean's jacket, his face buried in Dean's neck and tears wetting Dean's collar. "You fucker!" Sam sobbed into Dean's neck. "You left me!" He accused, "you left me... you left me... god, how could you leave me?!"

Sam held on tighter and tighter, refusing to let Dean go because this time he might not come back. "You left me..." Sam repeated, taking in a shuddering breath as he tried to see through his tears. Dean's scent was strong around him, something he had missed so badly he felt like he was dying, and Dean's hair were tickling his nose and his leather jacket was smooth and worn under his fingertips and Sam didn't know how he had survived this long without seeing Dean everyday. "Please don't leave me again... please don't leave me..." he whispered, running out of energy and two months worth of fatigue catching up to him.

Dean had barely turned around when Sam had plowed to him so fast it was a wonder that the younger boy didn’t knock them both onto the ground. Then his brother was clinging to him tight enough to bruise, crying so hard he was practically choking on his sobs, and repeating the same damning accusation over and over. Every word out of his brother’s heart breaking… shattering… pulverizing his heart a little bit more. Yes, there were tears running down Dean’s cheeks but he didn’t care. He didn’t bother wiping them away or trying to hide them. He just held onto Sam as tightly as the younger boy was clinging to him.

When his brother started to sag in his arms, Dean finally moved. Shifting his hold on the younger boy to pick Sam up and cradle his brother in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m so fucking sorry. I thought… I’m sorry…” Dean whispered, choking on his own words. Fuck, even if he didn’t before Sam had every reason to hate him right now. He’d left his brother behind. Sam had almost gotten… raped… oh god, if Dean had arrived only a day later, an hour later, a few minutes…

“I’ve got you.” He whispered as he carried the other boy out of the alley, leaving his brother’s would be rapists lying on the ground forgotten. He didn’t give a damn about them. If he didn’t have Sam to look after right now he probably would have killed them… if they weren’t dead or dying already. They couldn’t stay here. Between the principal at Sam’s school and what he’d done to these fuckers…

Even if he didn’t get arrested by the police for beating the shit out of his brother’s attackers, maybe even killing them, after this social services was definitely going to get involved. Sam wasn’t an adult, and Dean wasn’t his legal guardian. After this, he certainly wouldn’t be deemed fit enough to take care of his brother… yeah, Dean knew he wasn’t damned fit enough, but he wasn’t going to let them take Sam away from him, god damn it.

Dean walked quickly to the car, still carrying Sam. He didn’t want to put the younger boy down, even though there was no way he could drive and keep holding onto his brother, but he had to. They had to get out of here. He would let the younger boy punish him in any way he saw fit, it was no less than he deserved, as soon as they were in the clear.

“We have to get out of here, Sammy.” He explained as he got the passenger door open and Sam inside, though he wasn’t sure if he would be able to get Sam to let go of him.

Sam refused to let go of Dean, even when Dean pretty much had to carry him to the Impala. Dean told him they had to leave, and Sam only nodded. There was no reason for him to stay. This town had taken his brother from him, and then almost taken his innocence along with it. Not that Sam would call himself innocent, but if Dean had come just a bit later...

He refused to think about it, mostly because he had liked Jake. He had thought that at least Jake would never do something like that to him, and he had felt safe near that boy. He wondered how much of it was genuine, and how much of it he had projected over Jake just because he had looked the most similar to Dean. Regardless, Sam had had his eyes opened. Jake had not only not cared for him, he had in fact helped the others hold Sam down. Sam didn't know what to believe in anymore. His one unshakeable belief had been that Dean would always be there. He would always be there to take care of Sam, and now that belief wasn't just shaken, it was cracked and splintered.

Sam let go of Dean reluctantly once they were in the Impala, Dean bending over uncomfortably to get Sam situated in the passenger seat. As soon as he had let go of Dean, Sam gripped the car door handle tight, knuckles turning white because he knew that Dean wouldn't leave the Impala behind, and if Sam didn't let go of the car then Dean couldn't leave him behind either.

"I guess it's good to know I rank number four on your list of priorities. Number one, Dad. Number two, hunting. Number three, that goddamn car. Number four, ME!"

Sam's grip on the car door tightened even more when his words from so long ago echoed in his ears. He hadn't known exactly how true his words were then, he had screamed them out, the sentence designed to hurt, the accusation's only purpose was to stab. He hadn't known just how true it was. He wanted to say it out loud, wanted to laugh and say 'I told you so, Dean! I told you!' but he didn't. He didn't because he didn't know if it'll get him landed on his ass on the side of the street a second time. So he stayed quiet.

They arrived at the apartment building but Sam refused to move from the car. It wasn't like there was much to pack anyway, he hadn't really unpacked after Dean left him. He kept expecting Dean to return any moment and he didn't want to delay leaving any more than he had to. So he had opted for living out of his duffel bag. He was immensely glad for that right now, because he wasn't sure that leaving the Impala at the moment would not trigger a panic attack. He wanted to just sit here in his ugly green grocery store shirt and keep a death grip on the car door. He didn't want to move. Not yet.

Dean didn’t fail to notice Sam’s death grip on the car door when he got in the driver’s side, like his brother was afraid he was going to drag him out of the car again, and he felt the knife in his gut twist just a bit more. Oh god, he would never forgive himself for what he had done. Not even if he lived to be over a hundred. No matter how angry he was at his brother, no matter how much Sam hated him, even if Sam wanted him gone, he never should have just left his brother. He should have been there. Even if he had to get a separate apartment or something, he should have been there for Sam, not several states away. But he wasn’t there, he had failed Sam in the worst possible way, and he would never forgive himself…

They made the short drive back to the apartment in silence and Sam didn’t even move when the car stopped. He just kept clinging to the door, not even looking at him when he told Sam he would be right back. Dean went upstairs, feeling a sense of déjà vu as he let himself into the apartment to pack up his brother’s things. Not that they were really unpacked anyway he realized very quickly.

The knife twisted a little deeper.

He returned to the car with Sam’s things, threw them in the trunk, and got back in the car. Dean didn’t know where they were going to go he just knew they had to get as far away as they could as fast as they could. He drove out of town and pointed the car east once they got on the highway.

It was utterly silent in the car for hours. Like a tomb. Dean didn’t even dare turning on the radio to break it. He watched the sun set into the horizon but it wasn’t the glare of the light that made his eyes burn like they were on fire. Every mile the feeling of that knife of guilt in his gut twisted just a little more, the pain felt unbearable, but he bore it in silence. Whatever pain he felt was nothing compared to the pain he had obviously caused Sam, and he wouldn’t burden his brother with it.

Twelve hours later, almost three in the morning, Dean finally pulled off the highway at the next exit advertizing motel rooms. He pulled in front of the office, got out robotically, and went inside asking for a room with two queens. He returned to the car with the room key and drove them around the back to their room. When he shut off the engine in front of their room, the silence was even more deafening.

Dean looked over at Sam. He wasn’t even sure if the younger boy was even awake or not and he felt reluctant to speak or even touch his brother to find out.

Sam kept his death grip on the car door for the entire ride. He even tried loosening it a little around three hours later, but he just felt fear slam back into him and he returned the grip to white-knuckled. They didn't speak, which was good because Sam didn't want to say the wrong thing. He would have laughed if he could when he realized that all of Dad's threats, all his punishments making him run the three extra miles or doing push ups in the cold rain hadn't been nearly as effective as the sight of the Impala's taillights disappearing.

He fell into a light doze, finally relaxing after the two months of expecting Dean to come back. He didn't dream, his level of exhaustion wouldn't allow it, but he didn't rest entirely either. As soon as the car stopped and Dean got out of the car, Sam's grip on the door tightened again, almost without thought. He kept his eyes closed, head resting on the chilly window as Dean went to the main office of the motel. Then Dean was back and Sam released a breath. Then he was moving the car, probably to stop in front of their room. Once the car was parked again he waited for Dean to say something or do something, but he didn't so Sam turned to look at him.His eyes drank in the sight of Dean, who was even more beautiful than Sam remembered. He had never noticed just how large Dean's eyes were, the greenest he had ever seen, and his lips, and his arms, and his hair and everything...

He reached out, curling his fingers around Dean's fisted hand, getting it to unfold so he could take a room key. Then, keeping his eyes on Dean's, he leaned forward until their lips were just a hairsbreadth apart. He reached down between Dean and the door, finding the trunk release clasp and pulled it. The trunk popped open in the back and Sam took a few breaths, just seeing Dean from this close and committing it to memory. He slid out of the car, finding his blood pressure increase as soon as his feet landed on the ground. He pretty much rushed to the trunk to grab both his and Dean's duffels.

Dean can't leave without his stuff.

He carried both bags to the room, unlocking the door with steady fingers despite his nerves. He hoped to get over this soon, hoped to not be so nervous and apprehensive all the time, constantly fearing Dean leaving him, but he doubted that he'll be fine barely twelve hours after Dean returning. He'd had two months to cement the belief that Dean was gone, gone, gone and thinking good riddance.

The room was nice, decorated demurely for once and Sam put his own duffel on the bed closer to the door and Dean's on the one further in. It was stupid, he knew Dean wouldn't leave him the moment he was asleep... but really, no, he didn't know it. He didn't even know if Dean came for him today, or if it had just been a 'is he surviving?' sort of thing. Had Dean done that before? Peeked in and left? Had it been just because of Jake and his buddies that Dean had to come out of the woodwork?

Sam reached into his duffel, going into the back pocket and pulling out the eight envelopes full of money from them. He put them in Dean's duffel, pressing them down under the clothes that smelled so much like Dean that he could cry. He was tired of crying though, and even though he really, really felt like it right now, he held back. He wanted to grab Dean and shake him. He wanted to scream at him that 'You're all I have left! Don't you get it?! There IS no one else! I have no one else!'

When Dean entered the room, Sam's shoulders sagged with relief. "I wasn't punishing you," he whispered, not wanting to break the peace of the warm room. He looked up, meeting Dean's eyes. "Earlier... two months ago... when you said I was punishing you. I wasn't. Not you." Sam clarified, stepping closer and putting his head on Dean's shoulder, making up months worth of affection they had missed out on. As Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's waist lightly, trying not to be a clingy baby, he refused to say the words at the tip of his tongue. 'I was punishing myself. I'm a bad person, Dean... I've gone and fallen in love with my big brother.'

When Sam finally turned to look at him Dean found he could barely breathe. The lump of emotion in his throat that had been choking off his speech all but choking off his air now as well. He couldn’t read the expression on his brother’s face and that hurt almost as much as anything else that happened. Once he’d thought he knew Sam better than he knew himself. The fact that he didn’t know his own brother anymore...

He found he couldn’t look away from his brother’s eyes however, even when he felt Sam’s hand touch his. Dean felt almost trapped by the younger boy’s gaze as Sam leaned in close to him. So close that his brother’s eyes were almost all he could see. So close that he could feel Sam’s breath against his mouth. Dean remembered that night... the last good night they’d had... drinking with Sam and ending up in much the same position as they were in right now. Unlike then though Dean felt the sudden urge to close that small distance between them, to press his mouth to his brother’s...

Then he heard the trunk pop and Dean flinched, the spell broken, and overwhelming shape washing over him making him feel ill. What the fuck was wrong with him?! Hadn’t he fucked things up between him and Sam enough and now...

He watched Sam rush to get out of the car, rushing to the trunk, and then inside the room and Dean felt panic join in on top of everything else. Had Sam seen something in his eyes, a hint of what Dean had been thinking? And now his brother was running away from him, disgusted... Dean felt physically ill. He leaned with his arms and head on the steering wheel and took several deep breaths trying to keep himself from being sick, screaming, or crying. Or maybe a combination of all three.

Dean finally forced himself to get out of the car, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders was a fucking understatement. He locked up the Impala and walked slowly towards the motel room door. Well he supposed he should feel lucky that Sam hadn’t slammed and locked the door shut trying to keep him out.

He slowly shut the door behind him and the lock had barely clicked before Sam spoke. The younger boy’s voice barely above a whisper but compared to the silence before it was almost like a shout. Dean slowly turned to look at the younger boy. Barely able to meet Sam’s eyes and not sure what to make of his brother’s admission... now... after everything, he wasn’t even completely sure what it meant. Then suddenly his brother was in his arms, holding onto him when Sam should be yelling and hitting him, and it was like a dam broke inside of him.

The first sob ripped itself out of his throat and he couldn’t contain the rest. Each one shaking him to the core and he hadn’t even realized he’d wrapped his own arms so damned tightly around his brother until Dean’s knees gave out beneath him and he brought the younger boy down to the floor with him. He didn’t even realize he was speaking until the barely recognizable words reached his own ears.

“Thought you wanted me gone... I thought you wanted me gone...” It was no excuse. No fucking excuse at all and he knew it. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Sam hadn't expected Dean to break down and then when Dean started sobbing in his arms, it was all Sam could do to hold on. Dean was saying things, words that were almost indecipherable through the emotion in Dean's voice, but Sam got them, he understood.

"No... Dean," Sam held him tightly, pressing them closer. "I..." Sam didn't know what to say. There were so many things to explain, to clear up, to get out of the way but when it came down to it, he didn't know how to say them. "Dean, listen... you gotta listen to me."

Sam didn't know what he was doing, why he was risking this now so soon after getting Dean back, but something in Dean's words, his voice, his actions had told Sam that it was alright, that he could tell Dean. He pulled Dean away a little so that he could look into Dean's eyes. With his thumbs, he wiped away the tears flowing from the green green eyes and resisted the urge to kiss his cheeks and then his lips.

"I love you," Sam said, making sure Dean saw how sincere he was being. Maybe Dean will see that he meant the kind of love that went beyond brotherly, or maybe he won't... but Dean needed to know. "I love you. You're my brother and I'd die for you, dude." Sam gave him a shakey smile. He had thought Dean had always known this. He had never considered the idea of having to say it out loud, but now that he had, it felt like a dam had burst. "Everything I do is for you. Everything." Sam leaned forward, resting his forehead on Dean's, noses nearly brushing each others. Their lips were close again and Sam could feel every heated breath leaving Dean's lips against his own. It took all his willpower to not lean forward and steal one kiss.

"Even all that bullshit two months ago. All of it," Sam said with a small, bitter laugh. "I..." Sam pulled back a little, eyes dropping. "I fell in love, Dean... and I know my feelings aren't returned. That was the only way I could cope." He confessed, shrugging.

How the hell had everything gotten so completely fucked up and turned around? How had he ended up on his knees in his younger brother’s arms, sobbing brokenly, and Sam was the one trying to comfort him? Why was it Sam holding on to him so tightly? Why was it Sam speaking softly, reassuringly, confidently? How was it Sam who was holding himself together so damned well while he was falling apart?

It should be him reassuring the younger boy. It should be him comforting his brother. It should be Dean taking care of Sam, not the other way around. Instead it was his brother wiping away his tears. It was Sam reassuring him over and over that he loved him… even when Dean had abandoned him. Even when Sam had been attacked and nearly… raped… today…

As he looked into his brother’s eyes, guilt and remorse ripped Dean apart, shredding his soul even as the younger boy’s soft words and gentle touches tried to mend it. Dean cradled Sam’s face much like his brother, but there were no tears on the younger boy’s face like there were his. He squeezed his eyes closed trying to fight back more tears that wanted to replace the ones that Sam had already wiped away, but that wasn’t his brother’s job. It wasn’t Sam’s job to comfort him, reassure him, take care of him… and yet Sam was.

Dean swallowed hard when his brother pressed their foreheads together and they were so close he could feel Sam’s breath on his lips. God, when had his little brother grown up so damned much? When had Sam gotten so strong? What was the younger boy trying to tell him? Fell in love? With who? But they didn’t want his brother? Who was crazy enough that they wouldn’t want Sam? Dean couldn’t even begin to decipher his feelings about that right now.

“Whoever they are, they’re an idiot.” Dean whispered and his fingers slid back into the younger boy’s hair, but he froze when he felt the stickiness of dried blood there. Of course he remembered seeing Sam bleeding earlier, and of course he’d noticed the bruising on the younger boy’s face, but he’d been so damned intent on getting them away from that town he hadn’t even checked his brother over for injuries.

Fuck! Here he was sobbing like a little bitch in his brother’s arms and Sam was hurt.

“Let me check you over and get you cleaned up. Please?” Dean asked, his voice steadier now that he had a purpose, gently caressing his brother’s bruised cheek.

"Yeah, they kind of are," Sam said with a small grin as he answered Dean's comment about whoever he was in love with. He swiped his thumbs over Dean's cheeks one more time, wiping away the few more tears that had leaked. He liked this. He liked being able to care for Dean instead of Dean constantly taking care of him. He liked being the responsible one for once.

Dean's fingers brushed through Sam's hair and he winced, feeling the wounded area on his head throb when Dean's fingers came into contact with it. Sam saw the way Dean's eyes started clearing up, green getting brighter with purpose as Dean looked at his bruised cheek. Sam knew Dean was slipping back into big brother mode, and he sighed. He had liked being on equal footing with Dean, even if it had lasted only for a few moments. Sam nodded when Dean said about checking over and cleaning up. He knew how to do this. They had been raised checking each other for injuries and fixing up.

"It's nothing bad," Sam said, standing up and helping Dean up as well. "The head wound was by far the worst and I'm not even concussed. As for the other stuff... they're just bruises." Sam went to his bed, opening his duffel and taking out clean clothes, not wanting to spend another minute in the dirty clothes he was wearing right now. He could still feel their phantom hands on him, touching him in places he'd never been touched before. He shook the memories from his head and turned to look at Dean, struck once more that Dean was here, that he came back for him...

Sam looked at the tear tracks on Dean's cheeks and felt his heart swell with so much love he didn't know how he managed to contain it. He gave Dean a small smile. "I'll just go shower..." He hovered in the doorway of the bathroom for a moment, eyes stuck on Dean. "Don't... don't go anywhere," he whispered before getting in and swinging the door closed, but not locking it. It stayed open a sliver because Sam wasn't sure he wanted to put barriers in between them just yet. If they had been more than brothers... if they were together Sam would have asked Dean to just strip and join him in the shower.

And didn't that just put delicious images in his head? Sam groaned softly, ignoring his hard-on to instead shampoo his hair gently, scraping away the dead, congealed blood. Once the shampoo washed that out, his head stung in a new way and when he probed the wound carefully, he realized it wasn't big at all. It had already closed up a little, the skin raw and puffed up around it.

He showered quickly, not wanting to use up all the hot water, and changed into comfortable clothes. A worn gray shirt over black sweats and he was good. He stepped out, balling up the dirty laundry and sticking it in the garbage bag. He never wanted to look at those jeans and that shirt ever again. His eyes sought out Dean and he nearly bit his lip bloody because right now he'd give an arm and a leg just to be able to kiss Dean, just to hold him tight and run his tongue along his soft lips and press in.

Dean did his best to return his brother’s slight grin and allowed Sam to help him up off the floor. Things were hardly ‘better’ between them, he honestly wasn’t sure they ever would be. But they seemed to be better enough that the older boy was starting to feel more than a little humiliated from getting all over emotional with Sam like he had.

He was too worried about his brother right now to really concentrate too much on that though, and Dean couldn’t help but look at the younger boy a little doubtfully when Sam said it was nothing bad. He wanted to believe that Sam was ok, of course, but he just needed to see for himself that his brother was fine.

Dean didn’t even want to let Sam go when the younger boy pulled away from him to go over to his duffel, pulling out some clean clothes to replace his dirt and blood stained ones. Really, Sam had been wounded much worse than this before, but just knowing that Sam had been hurt by those bastards trying to…

When Sam said he was going to take a shower, Dean nodded in understanding. Watching the younger boy head to the bathroom, and when Sam stopped in the doorway and asked him not to go anywhere it nearly broke his heart all over again.

“I won’t.” Dean promised, his voice cracking a little as he said the words, but he swallowed back the lump that tried to stick in his throat. He wasn’t going to turn into a whiney little bitch in front of his brother again. He had to take care of Sam, damn it. Yeah… like he’d been doing such a great job of it… If he’d been doing any ‘better’ of a job Sam might still be laying in that alleyway after…

Nausea hit him so hard and sudden that Dean had to sit down on the edge of his bed, holding his head in his hands, trying hard not to be sick. He listened to the shower for a few moments before he forced himself to get up and go out to the car for their first aid kit. When Sam came out of the bathroom dressed and showered, Dean already had the first aid kit open on the bed beside him. Sam did look a lot better now, but Dean still had to make sure.

“Come here.” Dean said, getting up and motioning the younger boy over.

Dean motioned him over and Sam went to him, frowning a little at how Dean looked so pale. He sat down on the bed in front of Dean, letting him look at the wound as much as he wanted. He sighed softly, hands settling on Dean's hips as his brother looked him over. Sam didn't know why he was getting so bold, allowing himself to touch Dean like this, but he couldn't help it. As it was he had to keep his eyes closed because Dean's crotch was so close... If he leaned in just a little, he'll have his nose pressed against the bulge of Dean's cock and... that... that would be something that Dean would kill him for.

Once Dean was done, Sam shifted his hold, wrapping his arms around Dean's hips and leaning forward to rest his head against Dean's abdomen. "You should shower too," Sam said softly, his breath ruffling the hem of Dean's t-shirt. "Then we'll order some pizza, watch some bad movies, and fall asleep just like that." Sam looked up to give Dean a toothy grin, feeling happy and content with Dean right here. He immediately saw the fallacy of his coping mechanism earlier. By pulling himself away from Dean, he tried to fill the Dean-shaped hole in his heart with pot and beer and sought attention from random guys. All that time, Dean was right there. So what if Sam couldn't kiss him, or touch him the way he wanted to, or lick him all over? So what if he didn't get to call Dean his in every way? Dean was still here, and that was unimaginably better than not having him around.

Sam smiled wider as he reached a conclusion in his mind. Sure, he could do the whole sleeping around thing eventually, but that didn't mean that he couldn't have Dean too. He'll make this work. He'll figure it out. And who knew? Maybe eventually his feelings will go away. Maybe he'll stop wanting Dean as a lover. Maybe he'll even find someone else, fall in love all over again and move on?

Life wasn't as bleak as Sam had made it out to be.

For the first time in several months, Sam was completely at peace with himself. He could do this. And he could do it with Dean here. He'll do it all because he loved Dean just that much.

Dean checked over the cut on his brother’s scalp, and Sam was right, it wasn’t bad. His brother would have a good sized lump there for a while, but even though it was bleeding a little now because some of the dried blood had been washed away it didn’t need stitches or anything. The wound looked clean, but there was always a slight risk of infection, especially since he had no idea what made the cut in the first place. So he washed the wound with some peroxide and put some antibiotic ointment on it.

Once he was finished Dean started putting away the things from the first aid kit he’d used but he was surprised, and definitely not in a bad way, when his brother hugged him instead. Dean wrapped one arm around the younger boy’s shoulders, his other hand gently petting through Sam’s soft damp hair being careful of the cut there.

When Sam mentioned that he should probably shower too Dean nodded but he didn’t speak. Not wanting to break this fragile special peace that seemed to have settled over them. And then his brother was looking up at him and it was like the younger boy was offering him the world on a silver platter.

What the hell had he ever done to deserve this? Such… forgiveness… love… Dean felt himself getting choked up again and swallowed the emotion down, blinking back the tears that wanted to start flowing all over again. Damn it. He was not going to lose it and start blubbering like a little girl again.

Realizing that Sam was still waiting for him to reply and all Dean had been doing was staring at the younger boy, Dean finally returned his brother’s smile, a little easier than before, and nodded.

“Alright. That sounds great. Why don’t you call for pizza now so it will be here by the time I get out.” Dean said, his fingers brushing through Sam’s hair and down his cheek one more time before forcing himself to release the younger boy.

Sam could see once again why it had been so easy for him to fall in love with Dean. He was so gentle with him, and every action of his, besides when he turned into a jerk for no reason and started whipping his ass with wet towels, was filled with love and care and affection. Sam found himself falling even harder for him, and this time the feeling was not unpleasant. In fact he welcomed it.

He nodded at Dean's suggestion, reluctantly letting Dean go. As Dean went for a shower, Sam sat there, feeling his scalp tingle where Dean's fingers had run through his hair and the skin of his cheek prickled pleasantly, as though he had just brushed his cheek against soft fur. He smiled goofily to himself, refusing to let the swell of affection in his heart bring him down, and instead went rifling through the giant book of yellow pages sitting next to the phone and found a 24 hour pizzeria.

He ordered an extra large with everything on it before switching the lights off and lying down on the bed on his stomach. His side smarted sharply, the spot where he had been hit by the crowbar making itself known, but he knew nothing was broken. At worst he had a case of bruised ribs, and it was hardly worth whining about. He pulled a pillow under his chest, wrapping his arms around it before switching the TV on. The picture flickered for a moment before coming alive, and he started going through channel after channel of infomercials before settling on one that was showing the Men In Black movies. He figured they might as well have a laugh.

Just as Sam heard the shower cut off, there was a knock on the door and Sam got up, rifling through his duffel to find his wallet paid the guy, grabbing the piping hot pizza.

He closed the door and locked it, sitting down on the bed in front of the TV with the pizza box open and only the flickering blue light of the movie to see by. He pulled out a slice, the stringy cheese sticking to his fingers before taking a big bite. He was starved as hell, having been unable to eat properly while Dean was gone because he was constantly walking around with a weight in his chest and stomach, making him feel unwanted and such a damn waste of space that food didn't really have any place in his system anymore.

Now though... now he was making up for all those skipped lunches and dinners.

That night they ate good pizza and watched a movie that Sam fell asleep halfway through. One bed remained made and untouched as Sam curled up against Dean, face pressed into the warmth of his big brother's chest and one arm thrown over his stomach and the other hand holding Dean's shirt lightly. Sam slept dreamlessly and for a long time, all his exhaustion and fatigue from the past two months making him sleep like the dead.

Dean had thought it would be awkward, to say the least. But after he had taken his shower he’d felt a lot better afterward thankfully. His stomach growling as he walked out of the bathroom to the smell of hot pizza, and strangely it hadn’t been awkward at all. It had felt normal. Right. That easy camaraderie was back that had been missing between them for so long and it was almost too perfect.

He couldn’t deny he was afraid it was all some kind of illusion. That it couldn’t be this easy, after all this time and so much pain caused between them... could it?

But as he and Sam had laid side by side on the bed, splitting the pizza between them, and watching corny movies somehow it did seem that easy. They’d laughed at all the right spots of the movies and got into a good natured fight over the last slice of pizza, though of course Dean let Sam have it. After a while he heard the shift in his brother’s breathing telling him that the younger boy had fallen asleep, and Dean just couldn’t bear the thought of getting up and moving to the other bed.

So he roused the younger boy just enough to get his brother situated more comfortably in the one bed, and Sam curled up to him just the way he’d always had... before Sam started pushing him away. Dean was so damned grateful for it even though he wasn’t much of the praying type, he sent a small one of thanks that he had his brother back as well as a silent promise he’d never be so stupid again.

He needed Sam and Sam needed him. They were all they had left. They had to stick together. They just had to, or neither of them were going to survive.

*

The next morning, though it was actually closer to noon, was when Dean had found the envelopes of cash in his duffel. He’d managed to extricate himself from his younger brother’s octopus like grip without waking the boy because Dean had to take a major piss, and when he’d come back into the room to get dressed was when he’d found it. Of course he recognized it, all the money he’d earned and sent to Sam, which obviously his brother hadn’t used a dime of.

Dean sat down on the bed heavily. Feeling a familiar weight settle onto his shoulders as he stared at the thick envelope of bills and wondering just what the hell they were going to do. The last thing Dean wanted was to repeat the same mistakes they’d already made.

Stopping in one place... it had worked out all right, for the most part, in a lot of ways. Sam had liked it. Dean hadn’t. But that was mostly because he’d hated working at that fucking grocery store. He’d started to feel trapped and wanting nothing more than to get back on the road doing what he did best, what he enjoyed, hunting. But he couldn’t keep hunting, if something happened to him, he couldn’t leave his brother alone again...

He just had to find a way to stay in one place and do something he enjoyed, he guessed. Of course, that was easier said than done.

After he’d returned the money to his duffel, got dressed, and roused his brother so they could go get some breakfast Dean thought long and hard about it while he waited for the younger boy to get ready. By the time they were sitting down across from each other in a small diner waiting on their breakfast/lunch he thought he had an answer. Or at least, the beginning of one.

“Hey Sammy? I think I’m going to try to get my GED.” He told his brother. Dean figured that was the best way. No way he was going back to high school even if he did only have one more year to complete. He couldn’t waste that year in school though, he needed to get a job to take care of Sam. A GED might not be considered as good as a high school diploma but it was better than nothing. “What do you think?”

Sam was keeping it together in a way he hadn't thought himself capable. He slept through the night, somehow not dreaming about the moment when he'd seen the taillights of the Impala disappear, and had instead dreamed of Dean holding him tight and kissing him. He woke up around to Dean's voice and he told himself that today will be a good day. Maybe if he kept saying it he'll delay the inevitable problems they'll face.

Shower. Dressed. Breakfast.

Sam waited for his bacon and eggs and in the meantime opted for stacking the sugar sachets on top of each other, trying to get as high a tower as possible before it tumbled over. Right now, as soon as he got up to five it fell over.

But when he was attempting his thirty-fifth try, he pretty much knocked over the tower of three himself.

"You what?" Sam asked, eyes wide. Those had been the last words he had expected Dean to say. A GED? Since when did Dean care anything about his education? In fact, the first thing he'd dropped when Dad disappeared was school. Sam looked down at the table, fingers fiddling with the sugar sachets. He wondered if his being excited would be taken the wrong way. Then he wondered why he shouldn't be excited. Then he thought about why Dean would think about a GED now, when it had been mostly Sam going on and on about wanting to finish high school.

After a few moments of silence, Sam looked at Dean again. "You know I won't tell you 'no'," Sam said, shrugging lightly. "But if you got a GED it'll make things easier if you were ever to stop hunting in the future."

Sam frowned, looking at Dean questioningly. "Why are you thinking about this now?" He asked just as the waitress came with their food.

If Sam’s eyes got any bigger they were going to fall out of his head. But he supposed he couldn’t really blame the younger boy. His brother would have probably been less surprised if Dean had just told him that he was thinking of dancing in a pink tutu. Probably because Sam would have known he was only kidding, but about this, Dean was serious.

As the waitress returned with their plates of food, Dean waited for her to leave again and grabbed some salt and pepper for his eggs before he answered his brother’s question.

“In case you hadn’t realized, Sam, the ‘future’ is kind of now. You’ve said plenty of times we can’t keep hunting. I know that now, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes…”

Dean trailed off, keeping his eyes glued on his plate while he ate. He didn’t want to bring up what had happened in Winchester CA. Maybe one day they would have to talk about it, maybe not, but for now he would settle for not repeating the same mistakes that had led them down this path.

“I figured if I had a GED I might have a better chance getting a decent job. Something that won’t make me want to kill myself. Maybe I can earn enough we can actually get a place. Put a down payment on a house or something.”

Sam's food stayed forgotten in front of him as he listened to Dean explain. He sat back a little when Dean talked about the mistakes they had made, and yes they had made a lot of mistakes. They had done things wrong from start to finish and did other things that, if Dad was here, would have beaten the shit out of them for.

"A house?" Sam asked, expression skeptical. "Dean... a house?!"

He licked his lips, leaning forward on the table on his elbows, looking Dean straight in the eyes. "Dean, this isn't a joke and it's not funny, alright?" Sam said, looking wary. "An apartment is one thing, but owning a house? That's... that's big, Dean, and it..." Sam shook his head. "Look... just... just get your GED first and we'll handle the rest later."

A house was a big thing, something that couldn't be left at a whim. They had walked out on a dozen rental contracts without a problem, but owning a home? It changed things. It was your property, and it was long term. Could they handle such a length of time in one place? Could they handle owning a house, and working, and paying it off for years and years when only a few months in a crappy apartment had led them to the biggest blowout they had ever seen?

Sam worried, mostly because he was afraid of being shown dreams and not having them come true.

He’d thought Sam would be pleased. Looks like he was wrong again. When Dean mentioned them maybe getting a house somewhere the only expression on his brother’s face was pure disbelief. Joking? Sam thought he was joking? He’d been completely serious, damn it. He knew it was a big deal. He knew it would be hard and they probably wouldn’t even be able to get much. Just some shitty little fixer upper… though he supposed he couldn’t really blame Sam for his lack of faith in him. After all, just look how great a job Dean had been doing so far.

Dean turned his attention fully to his meal then, even though he wasn’t feeling very hungry all of a sudden and merely shrugged.

“Whatever. Forget I said anything.” Dean said as he started stuffing food into his mouth so he would have a reason to end the discussion. He didn’t want to argue with Sam, not that they were arguing, but he didn’t even want to come close. Dean had been going to ask Sam to help him study for getting his GED, but what was really the point? They had enough money to last them for a little while, hell, two months at least. They’d find another place, he’d get whatever crappy job he could to pay the rent, and he would suck it up even if he hated it.

As long as Sam was happy and taken care of that was all Dean cared about.

Sam could see he had hurt Dean's feelings, and he felt fear slash through him again. What if... what if Dean was mad at him? Would he leave again?

Sam bit his lower lip, anxiety taking over him and he really wasn't hungry anymore. He sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest as he thought about what to do next. Dean couldn't leave him... Sam wouldn't let him. He'll run after him if necessary but he won't let Dean leave him again. So where did that leave them? And did Dean even really want a house? Why so suddenly? What was going through Dean's head??

He stayed quiet for a while, watching Dean eat but he didn't touch his own food. He wasn't hungry anymore.

"Dean..." Sam said, needing to fix this but not really knowing what he had broken. "Dean... I..." He sighed, shoulders sagging slightly. "What do you want?" Sam asked finally. "You know what I want. But what do you want? To hunt? Or to stop? Because a house, Dean? It's... it's big. And we can't... we can't keep hunting after we get a place. You know we can't. So it's gotta be something you want too," Sam finished, looking down at his plate. He picked up a fork and started moving around his now cold eggs.

Even though Dean didn’t look up from his plate he could see Sam from the corner of his vision, and saw that the younger boy wasn’t eating. Rather sitting there stubbornly refusing to eat, much as Sam had before the night after he’d learned that his big brother was a whore, and then when Dean had ordered him to eat, they’d blown up spectacularly at each other. Not wanting a repeat of that event was probably the only reason why Dean didn’t say anything, all but ignoring his brother, while he dug into his own food.

He probably should have known better than to even begin to believe that anything could be ok between them. Did he really think a few exchanges of ‘I’m sorry’, a few tears, and a few slices of pizza would mend anything between them? They were broken… no, shattered… and Dean was beginning to realize things would never be all right between them again.

There was just no fixing this, them. It seemed the best they could hope for was to try to not make each other completely miserable until the day they’d eventually part ways again. For good.

Dean looked up after Sam finally spoke, but he wasn’t surprised by the fact that the younger boy was no longer looking at him. Since when did Sam ever give a damn what he wanted? Sam had wanted them to stay in one place for a while, and Dean had agreed. Sam had wanted him to stop hunting and eventually Dean had stopped. Only to have the younger boy dangle a hunt right under his nose a short time later. Then, just as everything seemed good between them, Sam started acting like he hated him and wanted him gone, so Dean had left.

“No, Sam. I don’t know what you want.” Dean said matter-of-factly rather than answering his brother’s question.

Sam didn't even know how they went from being somewhat okay to being miserable again. It hadn't even taken them a day this time.

Sam exhaled softly, not saying anything more. He took a few bites of his food, the breakfast having gone cold and tasteless by now but he ate enough to keep him from getting hungry a few hours later. He could feel nervousness and agitation settle deep in his gut, as well as a good dose of guilt stewing in there.

He thought a lot, wondering what he was supposed to say next. Somehow, everything he said was turned around on him, and he was starting to wish he had just nodded and gone along with it when Dean had mentioned the GED. His questioning it or trying to understand it had led them back to being unable to look at each other. And sadly enough, he didn't even know what he had done wrong.

Was it because he hadn't immediately jumped for joy when Dean mentioned it? Had Dean really expected him to do that, when they had just been apart two months after trying their hand at domesticity? He didn't think he was so wrong for being wary.

"Yeah. You don't know what I want," Sam muttered, leaving his half finished cold breakfast before getting up and walking out of the diner. His words had two meanings. One that Dean didn't know what Sam was feeling, what he was thinking, what he wanted or needed anymore. But even more than that, that Dean had absolutely no idea how much Sam wanted him. So he didn't do anything else. He went and sat down on the hood of the Impala and waited for Dean.

Sam didn’t say anything for a long time and when the younger boy finally did speak his words were like a stab to the heart. Did he really expect something different? Maybe he had. Maybe he had at least expected Sam to talk to him, to tell him what he wanted. Maybe he was just a stupid dreamer, because instead Sam simply left. Turn about was fair play, he guessed.

Dean tossed down his fork, not like he’d been hungry for a while now, but the food he’d already eaten had turned to a cement block in his gut. He fished out his wallet and threw down enough cash to cover their meal, for what it had been worth, and got up.

When he got outside he was almost surprised to see Sam still there sitting on the hood of the Impala. Dean didn’t know if he should say anything or just get in the car. Would Sam even get in with him if he did?

“I just want you to be happy, Sam. That’s all I want.” Dean said, and it was mostly true. He also wanted Sam to be safe. He honestly wasn’t sure if he could do either anymore, but he would do whatever he could to try to make that happen.

Sam had heard Dean walk up to the car, but he hadn't expect Dean to say anything. So he was surprised when he did.

"Yeah, 'coz that worked out so well last time," Sam said with more sarcasm than he had intended. "It doesn't work, Dean! I'm not a little kid anymore and you can't just go 'oh let little Sammy have his toy' with me!" Sam slid off the hood, standing tall and looking at Dean head on, physically reinforcing his words. "If you give me something that I want but it makes you miserable instead, it's going to make both of us miserable! Don't you get it?!"

Sam took a few steps towards Dean but then stopped just shy of touching him. "Whatever decisions we make, we make them together, alright? I'm not a kid and I'd very much appreciate it if you stopped treating me like one."

It seemed that the only thing that made Sam happy nowadays was ripping his heart out. Maybe he should just suck it up and get used to it. Take it like a man. So Dean did his best not to flinch at his brother’s words.

No. Sam was the one that didn’t get it. He had been fine with their ‘arrangement’ before until Sam had gone psycho on him, pushing him away, yelling at him whenever he got close, and no matter what Dean did it was never good enough. Just like with Dad. Nothing Dad did was ever good enough for Sam. Nothing Dean was ever good enough. Sam had said that he hadn’t been punishing him, but obviously that had been a lie. Apparently the younger boy was still punishing him, and Dean didn’t even know why.

“Then stop acting like one, Sam.” Dean snapped with more than a little bit of anger, and turned away from the younger boy. He left his brother standing there as he went to get in the car, slamming the driver’s side door. Dean waited for the other boy to get in the car with him, but at this point he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Sam didn’t.

Yeah. Offering a compromise was him acting like a kid. Sam opened his mouth to say as much but then Dean was turning away from Sam, heading to the driver's side and getting in. He slammed the door shut and Sam's breath caught in his chest. He stood there frozen, waiting for Dean to start the car and speed away. He was completely sure that less than twenty four hours after being found, Dean was going to leave him again.

He stood there waiting for a few seconds before he realized Dean wasn't leaving. When he noticed that, he didn't waste any more time and rushed to the passenger side, getting into the car and closing the door.

"I'm not acting like a kid," Sam said, trying not to sound confrontational. "All I did was ask if that is what you wanted. You blew up at me, Dean. All I did was ask you if you were sure you wanted a house. If you knew what that entailed."

Sam licked his lips, looking straight out of the windscreen. "Know what, Dean? Just... do whatever you want," Sam's tone was resigned, quiet. He didn't know what to say anymore. He had asked a simple question, and gotten a gruff 'whatever' in response. He had asked what Dean wanted, and had gotten no answer. He had asked for Dean to stop treating him like a kid and got childish in response.

He knew that he couldn't say anything right now without it being twisted and thrown back in his face. So sighed and slumped in the passenger seat, even if Sam's stomach felt like it was made of lead. He hated fighting with Dean, and he had hoped they'd have at least a few days where they didn't fight before things went downhill again... but he supposed that was a childish hope.

Dean waited, and waited, and waited, for Sam to either get into the car or walk away. He would have waited forever if he had to for the younger boy to get in the car, though he probably would have gotten more pissed off every minute that passed. If Sam had walked away though, Dean wasn’t sure what he would have done then. Though he probably would have felt like putting a gun in his mouth.

When Sam finally hurried to the car Dean let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding and when his brother got in he finally put the key in the ignition and started the engine.

Sure. Sam wasn’t acting like a kid. He had just walked out and left him in the fucking diner rather than talk to him. Just because Dean had told Sam the truth, that he didn’t know what Sam wanted anymore, the other boy had gotten pissed off at him and left. Like Dean was supposed to read his fucking mind or something. Then when he’d been honest with Sam, told his brother what he wanted, for Sam to be happy, the younger boy had gotten all pissy with him again.

It was just like before. Why he’d thought it would be any different, Dean didn’t know. Was Sam going to start yelling at him again if he came within two feet of the younger boy? Was Sam going to go around getting high and slutting around with the same kind of bastards that had tried to rape his brother, then treat him like he was the enemy?

“Fine.” Dean replied, knowing he sounded just as resigned as Sam had sounded. But what else was he supposed to fucking do? Sam had no faith in him whatsoever anymore. Hell, he remembered the look on his brother’s face when he’d mentioned the GED. Sam probably thought Dean was too much of an idiot to even manage that. His brother didn’t think he was capable of getting a home for them either, that much was certain.

So he just drove them back to the motel room and didn’t wait for Sam as he got out of the car and went inside. He went to his bag and dug out the half full bottle of Jack Daniels he’d been working on before he’d went to check up on Sam. No time like the present to finish it off. Maybe if he got wasted enough the hollow feeling inside of him that had been there ever since he’d left Sam on the side of the road, that had returned in full force during the last fifteen minutes, would finally be filled with something. Even if it was numbness.

Dean sat down on the bed that they hadn’t shared the night before and took a long drink from the bottle.

Sam put his head in his hands as Dean walked out of the car, heading to the motel. Things had been going so well too, and now they were fucked again. With a sigh, Sam got out of the car and headed towards their room. He opened the door softly and found Dean sitting on the bed they hadn't used last night, drinking.

Sam hovered in the doorway for a moment, guilt eating at him. Barely a day, and he had driven Dean to drinking. Sam opened his mouth, wanting to talk, wanting to fix things, but then he snapped it shut. Everything he said got twisted around. Every word uttered made things worse. So he gave up.

He sat down beside Dean, grabbing the bottle from his brother's hands and holding it to his own lips. He took a long drink of the burning liquid, feeling it go hot into his stomach before warming him all over. He took another few long drinks before giving Dean the bottle back. Right this moment he wished he had a joint so that he could go into that soft, fuzzy place where everything was warm and perfect. For a few seconds, he wished he was back in those boys' arms, drinking and making out and getting high. But he immediately squashed that thought when he remembered the way they had attacked him... god had that only been yesterday?

So much had happened since then...

"You're doing that thing again," Sam said softly, waiting for the alcohol to kick in and make him feel better. "That thing where you don't talk to me." Sam looked at his hands resting on his knees. "Twenty four hours, Dean. Barely twenty four hours we've been back together and you're already not talking to me." Sam chuckled quietly, but it was a bitter laugh. "God, do I make you that miserable?" No wonder you left me. Sam laughed again, a little louder. "And I wasn't even trying this time. Wow."

Dean didn't look up when he felt the bed dip beside him, though he did look up with a frown when Sam took the bottle of hard liquor out of his hands. He felt a spark of irritation ignite in him, figuring the younger boy was going to start bitching at him or something for drinking so early in the day or something. Instead Sam surprised him by taking a long drink from the bottle himself.

He wanted to say something, maybe tell his brother he shouldn't be drinking this crap at his age, but what could he say really that wouldn't be completely hypocritical? So instead Dean said nothing, just looked away, and took the bottle back from Sam once his brother had apparently had his fill.

Dean put the bottle back to his lips and took a few more long pulls from it. He knew Sam was going to start talking eventually and he would probably need the liquid courage for whatever his brother said to him.

Sam didn't talk for a surprisingly long time and Dean was well on his way to drunk by then, considering he hadn't had much of a breakfast and he was pretty much drinking on an empty stomach.

Yeah, he supposed he was doing that 'thing' again, as Sam put it. Not talking seemed to be the safest option at this point, since everything he said was wrong anyway and just made things worse between them. It seemed better to just say nothing at all.

He honestly didn't know what to say. After all, he'd told Sam that he wanted him to be happy, and Sam had responded by jumping down his throat. No, Sam didn't make him miserable. Having Sam disappointed with him made him miserable. Not being able to care of Sam like he should made him miserable. Sam having no faith in him made him miserable. Sam hating him made him miserable…

"No. You make me happy." Dean finally said, before laughing bitterly. "When I'm not fucking things up… I'm sorry for always fucking things up, Sam…"

Sam sat silently after Dean was done speaking, trying to choose his words wisely, and then wondering if he should even bother. He hadn't even meant for them to fight this time, so he was more than a little confused as to what he can say without heading into another fight.

As it is, he had barely managed to stifle a scoff when Dean said that Sam made him 'happy'. Right. Dean looked downright joyful right now, what with his JD in the middle of the day. Didn't you know only happy people drink in the middle of the day?

Sam had two choices. He could either let go of the 'fight' they had been having, leave it unresolved like everything else Winchester locked into a tight box and never opened it again, or he could get up, go out and get the frustration out of his system and then lock it up tight in a box and never open it again.

He turned to look at Dean, the alcoholic haze settling over his head making him not want to leave the motel room. Where will he go anyway? He knew no one, didn't know where to go that would make him feel better, and he wasn't much into the 'bar' and 'club' scene so that was out too. If he left now, he'll just mope in a park or something.

But talking wasn't good right now either. So he gave up. He flopped back on the bed, stretching his legs out in front. He toed off his boots and pulled his feet up,rolling to the side to grab the TV remote off the bedside table and switched the TV on. As his worked on finding something decent to watch he spoke. "You make me happier than I make you," Sam said quietly. "And you're not always fucking things up. I do my share, ya know." He turned to look at Dean, giving him a small smile. "Truce?"

Dean didn’t need to see Sam’s face to know there was doubt probably written in every line of his brother’s expression. It wasn’t much of a surprise Sam didn’t believe him. He didn’t really blame the younger boy either, but it was true. Even now, yeah it kind of sucked they’d gotten into another fight not even a day after they’d been back together, it was still a thousand times better than when Sam was gone.

He felt the bed move again, heard the thump of his brother’s shoes hit the floor, but he was still more than a little surprised when he heard the TV turn on. He turned to look back at Sam. Truce… Dean knew it wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t before, it wasn’t now, just to pretend everything was ok, but he honestly didn’t know what else to do.

“Yeah.” Dean finally said softly, giving a small nod. He set the mostly empty bottle on the floor and scooted back on the bed to lay down beside his brother. Making himself comfortable Dean rested his head on the younger boy’s stomach watching the TV.

Sam was surprised when Dean lay down beside him, putting his head on Sam's stomach. Sam had expected Dean to agree and then either keep sitting the way he was, or do anything else but lie down next to him. Sam ended up smiling softly, looking down on the head of his brother resting on his stomach. He reached down, placing a hand on the soft hair and running his fingers lightly through it. He could feel Dean's heat seep through his thin t-shirt, making his skin feel like it was hypersensitive in that area. He wanted to pull his shirt up, wanted to feel Dean's skin and his hair directly against his skin. But he did nothing. He just trailed his fingers through Dean's hair, at most straying to the soft skin of the nape of Dean's neck before climbing back up again.

He wanted to talk, suddenly. He wanted to tell Dean how much he loved him. He wanted to tell him exactly how he loved him. He wanted Dean to know everything because somehow he thought maybe, just maybe Dean would feel the same way. He wanted to reach down and kiss those soft lips, to push his tongue into his brother's mouth and taste him, but he held back. He would ruin everything if he made a move like that right now.

"If you want a GED," Sam said quietly, not breaking the tentative peace in the room, "then I'll help you get a GED. If you want a house, we'll get a house. We'll get the best house ever." Sam smiled. "Anything you want, Dean."

He didn’t really think that Sam would push him away when he laid down next to the younger boy, but Dean hadn’t been one hundred percent sure either. After all, his brother had pushed him away plenty of times before when things had gotten so bad between them. So when he felt the younger boy’s fingers in his hair he let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding and relaxed. The gentle petting motions of Sam’s fingers running through his hair and sometimes along the back of his neck feeling better than he could have ever imagined.

As Dean closed his eyes to better savor the feeling tension drained out of him and pure affection rushed in to fill its place. He wondered of Sam had any idea how much he loved him, what Dean would do for him. Sam was his life. Plain and simple. He would do anything for this boy. Anything.

The alcoholic haze surrounding his thoughts combined with the warmth of the younger boy’s body and the relaxing feeling of Sam’s fingers in his hair was beginning to push him very close to sleep, even though they hadn’t even gotten up all that long ago. A nap probably wouldn’t be so bad though, he decided, and Dean was very close to drifting off when Sam finally spoke.

A GED… a house… did he really want those things? Yes. If he got a GED then he could get a better job, he would be able to take care of Sam better. If they got a house, it would be theirs. Not an apartment or a string of motel rooms, but their home. Something Dean hadn’t been able to provide for Sam yet, and he knew how much his brother wanted. Hunting… he could give that up. Dean wasn’t sure if he could ignore every single hunt, especially if it was close by and something he knew he could handle easily, but he didn’t have to chase after monsters. Not if it meant losing Sam. Taking care of Sam, making sure his brother was happy, was his first priority from now on. His brother was his first choice, always his first choice.

“I want that.” Dean murmured softly, rubbing his cheek gently against the soft part of his brother’s belly before drifting off to sleep.

Sam couldn't help the grin that split his face at Dean's soft murmur. Sam loved Dean so much that it terrified him sometimes. Sure, they fought and screamed and yelled and rarely, but sometimes, got into a physical fight, but at the end of the day Sam would die for his brother and he had no doubt Dean would do the same. Dean rubbed his cheek lightly against Sam's belly and Sam breathed in sharply. He held his breath for a moment, daring to enjoy the flutter of Dean's breath against his t-shirt covered belly as Dean drifted to sleep.

Sam stayed awake for a long while, partly because he just wanted to savor the moment, and partly because Dean looked years younger when he slept. All his stress lines and the worry and fear in his face was wiped out, leaving behind the young man that he was. Sam kept up the movement of his fingers, tracing the shape of Dean's face gently, memorizing the feel of the features with his fingertips. He brushed by the corner of Dean's mouth once, wanting to feel the soft lips against his skin, but at the end he couldn't summon the courage to. It felt too much like taking advantage. He wasn't allowed to touch Dean like that, so he couldn't do it while Dean was asleep, when Dean trusted him enough to sleep like this.

So he returned his fingers to Dean's hair, playing with the soft strands until the peace and calm of the room as well as the alcohol he had consumed earlier got to him and Sam drifted off to sleep as well.