COLD POINT

By: Karen B.

Summary: Season Ten spoiler warnings! Tag to 10X2 – going into 10X3. Scrapping the bottom of the septic tank – dark, dark, dark – but fear not. After crawling through the muck, there be some light. Sam POV.

Disclaimer: Not the owner.

Rated: Far-out.

"And what I'm going to do to you Sammy…that ain't mercy either."

~ Dean Winchester (Episode: 10X2)

Nothing short of God above
Could turn me away from your love
I need you that much

If I had to run, if I had to crawl
If I had to swim a hundred rivers
Just to climb a thousand walls
Always know that I would find a way
To get to where you are
There's no place that far

~ Sara Evans - No Place That Far

/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/

My footsteps boomed and echoed through the empty hallway. I glanced at the tray I was carrying, watching the hypodermics roll and bump against one another. I suddenly felt dizzy, my heart trying to lunge out from behind my ribs. I wasn't bringing Dean a dozen donuts and a pot of coffee. I was bringing him another round of pain in the form of my blood. Blood I'd been stockpiling since I'd seen that surveillance video, since I'd learned the truth.

My brother was a friggin' demon.

I laughed. Sounded like a title to a bad book. A book I didn't want to know the ending to.

My vision blurred as I stumbled toward the door of the dungeon. I was shaky, my strength decreasing every day. Drinking two pots of coffee this morning trying to kick start my adrenaline didn't help. It only served to make me more jittery than I already had been since this all started. I felt like throwing up. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was getting my brother back.

I stopped in front of the door, taking in a deep breath and fighting off every screaming nerve inside of me.

The last session we'd had was a rough one. Dean had said things that had torn me apart. And how stupid was I to let him get to me? It wasn't Dean. It wasn't. I had to keep reminding myself of that. But I couldn't help it. After all I was still human and he sure as hell knew all my right buttons to push. It was all I could do to walk out of the room straight and tall. I had to remain the one in control. That persona was getting harder to keep up each time I'd stepped back in the room.

Dean had wished my very existence away. Because of me his mother was dead. His, not mine.

My being born or not wouldn't have any bearing. Mom would ultimately have had to pay the Yellow-eyed demon when the ten years was up. Those were the rules, and sadly her fate was sealed by the deal she'd struck. But maybe Dean was right. If I hadn't been born…maybe he and dad could have at least gone on to live normal lives after mom died. If I hadn't been born there would have never been a six-month-old baby to drip demon blood into its mouth. Mom never would have gone into that nursery, because there would have never have been a nursery. She wouldn't have died pinned to the ceiling. And Dad and Dean would have never found out about the existence of monsters.

That thought made my insides squirm and the tray I balanced in one hand nearly fell.

"Easy, Sam, come on. You have to keep it together," I whispered, closing my eyes.

Dean was suffering at my hand, but the demon side of him still remained witty and cocky and downright vengeful. We were somewhere between our twelfth or eighteenth dose. Or was it more? I'd lost count. I was wearing down faster than Dean was. I'd had very little sleep since we made it back to the bunker. I was tired, irritable, and nauseous. With each passing second, my frustration and anger and sorrow built to the point of exploding like napalm.

I shook my head. I was the addicted one. Addicted to saving Dean, and there was no going cold turkey for me. I was going to save my brother, or die trying. Even if I had to crawl on hands and knees to deliver the saving dose. So help me.

I was getting desperate, though, running out of my stash. I'd need to draw more blood soon, and I wasn't sure I had enough left in me. And what if this didn't work on Dean? Crowley was much farther along at this stage…ready to crack.

Dean wasn't hooked yet. Sure he'd had all the signs, hot and cold flashes, sweating, his strength decreasing with each hit of the needle. He'd even had a small seizure and passed out, scaring the crap out of me. I'd thought I'd killed him. But he'd come back to me with heightened wrath, holding on tighter than ever to the dark lord inside him.

Why?

Maybe the mark had more of a hold on him then I had blood? He wasn't your average every-day demon. Even the King of Hell had backed down from the evil inside of him.

I sucked in a deep breath and held it in, reminding myself for the millionth time...this really wasn't Dean. This was a violent, ruthless, black-eyed monster and Dean was depending on me to have his back and set him free. Prepared as I would ever be, I gripped the door knob and twisted. Letting out the breath I'd been holding in, I pushed the door open and rushed straight over to the table, opening the cooler and making a mental note I'd need to get more ice.

"I missed you, Sam," Dean said, snidely, from the chair I'd tied him in at the center of a demon trap.

I didn't respond in anyway, keeping my back to him.

"You were gone longer than usual this time," he said, his tone bland.

I didn't say a word, storing most of the freshly prepared syringes in the cooler.

"I really can't stand the silent treatment." He paused. "Bitch!"

The usually playful word between us was spat with absolute hatred and bit into me like the snapping jaws of a shark. Bile rose up in my throat and my body felt cold all over, but I didn't react, rolling the next dose of blood between my palms.

"You were always a little bitch," Dean continued, the hate in his tone escalating. "Even as a baby. You know, dad was a grieving mess and all you could do was cry and shit your pants all night long… for weeks on end. Neither one of us got any sleep because of your whinny, whimpering ass."

I bit my lower lip, remaining calm – on the outside anyway.

"Dad always said you'd be the death of him."

I could feel Dean's cold-black eyes on my back and grit my teeth holding tight to the hypodermic.

"And weren't you the death of him? In a screwed up sort of roundabout way," Dean laughed. "You have the Midas touch in reverse, Sam. Everything you touch turns stone-cold dead."

"Talking to me that way isn't going to stop me from doing what I have to do, Dean." I kept my facial expression as neutral as possible and turned to face him.

"How's that going?" Dean asked in a soft caring voice that just made me want to gag.

Not willing to answer, I skirted to stand beside the chair.

"Because I've got to say, Sam, you look like one giant pile of toasted shit." Dean flipped his eyes black and smiled at me like he was smiling for a camera.

I smiled back and held up the vial of blood letting him know for all his hurtful chatter we would be keeping with the task at hand.

"Dude," he muttered, looking a little nervous. "I thought we were going to watch The Exorcist and share a tub of Carmel Fudge ripple between us."

I tossed my hair back, and then jammed the cold point into his arm.

Dean's smile grew and he nodded watching as I depressed the plunger. "Party time," he chuckled.

I pulled the stick out and stood back a step watching his response. Maybe this would be the dose that brought my brother back to me.

Dean smiled like the cat that swallowed the entire Monterey Bay Aquarium. "What, are you waiting for, Sam? A little Linda Blair action?" he groaned and tried to curl his knees up to his chest, but the ropes and cuffs stopped him. "If you think I'm going to spit pea soup your way." He winced. "That is sooo not my style."

Damn it, seeing Dean this way hurt so badly and yet there was nothing…nothing else I could do other than what I was already doing. I found it hard to swallow past the lump that formed in my throat, moisture coming to my eyes and praying for his return.

"Don't look so disappointed, Sam."

I opened my mouth to say something, but the words died on my tongue.

"Let me guess. You think all the blood you've pumped into me is going to spin my head right round, right round?" Dean winked, his black-eyed stare so concentrated it sent something creepy shooting up my spine.

"The very root of elemental evil, Sam. That's all I am now."

I let my eyes drift closed, not willing to look into those empty black ones another second.

"So what you say you go get that movie," Dean muttered. "Pop us some popcorn and…uhgggg," he moaned.

My eyes tore open. Was this it? Finally?

"Sammy," Dean gurgled. "Make it go away." His eyes went back in his head and his chin flopped to his chest.

"Hey, hey, Dean," I screeched in panic crouching down in front of him, and peering up into his face. "Come on. You can do this. You have a lot left in you, big brother. Come on." I gripped his shoulder and shook hard when he didn't respond.

Dean's head flopped about loosely, and for a second I didn't think he was breathing. "Oh, god, Dean," I cried out, cupping a hand over his mouth. "Thank god," I sighed, right away feeling the flow of air.

"I can't," Dean started laughing.

"Dean?" I frowned.

"Gottcha." Dean slowly raised his head, eyes snapping open black. "Again," he laughed harder.

I was frozen in place, gaping at him in confusion.

"What, Sam? Don't tell me you thought that last seizure I had was real too?"

"What do you mean, too?" My frown deepened, breathing in and out of my mouth as my stomach flipped round and round, inside out, and upside down.

Dean had a comical look on his face and he laughed uncontrollably.

Tears filled my eyes as it dawned on me.

"Aw, hey, pal, what's the matter? You look like someone just microwaved your puppy."

"You son of a bitch," I mumbled and hung my head in defeat.

"That's my mother you're talking about, Samantha."

Before I knew what was happening in a clatter of metal and crack of wood and whoosh of air, Dean had me pinned flat to my back.

The hit I took to my shoulder was bad, and for a few seconds I couldn't speak. It was like someone had stuffed a rag down my throat.

"What the," I grunted. "How? Th-th-that's impossible," I huffed and puffed, trying to control the pain.

"Not in the least," Dean growled, his heartless ice-cold black eyes staring down into mine, his breath smelling of sulfur. "I'm really awesome, and you're really slipping, Samantha. Must be all the blood loss and not eating or sleeping." He gestured to the devil's trap where the line had been broken, then dangled the cuff keys in front of my face. "A little seizure, a little flailing, a skinny, wasting away hemophiliac for a brother…all add up to my good times. Ha!"

I fought back hard. Every one of my muscles was tight with agitation, but Dean kept me down. "Dean, please."

"You're big bro is long gone, and happier for it too," Dean's voice cracked and then he coughed.

I stopped fighting, examining the person above me. His breathing was heavy and his face was pale and boyish. Dean was hurting bad. Trickles of sweat ran down the sides of his temples, and his eyes fluttered back and forth from green to black as if in war with one another.

"Dean is dead, and he's not coming back this time." The twisted, kidnapped soul above me cackled like a crazy person.

"Like hell he is!" My head shot up off the floor, getting into his face. I was seething with anger, pain shooting through my shoulder, but I didn't care. "This is working," I shouted. "I know you, Dean. I can see its working. I love you. You're my brother, and I'm not going to let you crawl into a coffin and pull the lid shut on yourself." It was eating me alive to see him like this.

Dean clutched at my shirt and we looked into each other's eyes.

"Sammy," Dean muttered. "You don't understand…it's in me too deep. I can't."

"Dean." My heart leapt with excitement. This was no trick. I reached up clawing at his arm, feeling fine tremors run through his body. "This is you. It's you, man. I'm going to help you. Do you hear me, Dean? You can. You stick with me… okay?"

Dean's face contorted. 'Sammy.' His lips moved but there came no voice

"I'm here. Right here. Fight it, Dean. Fight it!"

Dean suddenly shook hard and went stiff; his eyes flashed black with anger. "Screw you, Sam." He erupted like a raging volcano, and then head-butted me back to the floor.

"Gah," I groaned, my head hitting so hard it bounced and I saw stars. I tried to keep a stiff upper lip, but was on the verge of tears staring up at the ceiling, sharp pain shooting through my shoulder. "So," I choked, and swallowed. "What now?"

"All that blood and hard work you've been pouring into me is nothing more than a funky tickle. When I'm ready…I will kill you, Sam," Dean said softly, flicking his eyes to green, and coursing his fingers through my hair almost affectionately.

"Get off," I stormed trying to jerk my head away, but he grabbed my chin. His eyes glued to mine.

"I will kill you, Sam," he repeated.

"You won't kill me." I fumed, trying to sound like I believed my own words.

"Stupid ass," Dean taunted. "I've left bodies baking in the sun, floating belly up in lakes, and lying naked in maggot infested dumpsters…all in the name of cheap booze and cheaper woman."

"Dean, plea–"

"Shhh." Dean placed an index finger to my lips, and then jammed a hard knee into my gut.

"Nu." I jerked upward in pain. "Give me back my-my brother," I breathed.

"Bored of this crappy, stoner-feast game of yours, Sam," Dean lashed out. "New game," he announced jovially. "Demon verses brother." His eyes flicked black again. "You can be the brother," he laughed pulling me up to my feet with him.

I nearly toppled over, but his grip on my arm was good.

"Five minutes head start for the stupid human," Dean said, shoving me toward the door. "Let the Hunger Games begin."

I had no choice but to play.

/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/

I bowed my head, ashamed when the first order of business was to get to my room and grab the demon killing knife. My whole body trembled, and if Dean was right about one thing it was the fact I was slipping. How the hell did the trap break? Let alone picked my pockets.

"Hold on, big brother, just hold on," I muttered as I headed for my next order of business.

If dad taught us anything it was to always be prepared. Have a backup plan. I'd hidden a devil's trap in a small storage room the first night we'd gotten back. If things went awry – and they had –I'd trap him and continue our intervention session there. To set my backup plan in motion, I had to go past the kitchen and get to a small stockroom in the lower catacombs of the bunker.

As I approached the kitchen, I could hear Dean humming softly inside.

"All you got in here is cheap beer, Sam," he hollered out, but his voice sounded muffled.

Dean wasn't all Dean, but he was Dean enough. Of course his first stop would be the refrigerator. I slipped past the kitchen doorway quietly.

"Three minutes on the clock, dude," he called out just as I hit the stairs.

Three minutes was enough time to get into position and wait. I knew he'd find me. And that's what I wanted him to do. I fumbled with the door handle and entered the small room. Quickly, I made my way over to a pile of boxes in the corner and pulled out the black-light I'd stuffed there. I switched it on and shined it on the floor checking out my artwork.

The devils trap I'd drawn in luminescent paint glowed greenish-blue. It wasn't the first time Dean or I had used this trick. But I was banking on his current state of crazy-angry-demon that he would be completely duped.

"Okay, this will work. It has to work," I muttered.

"Sam! Thirty-second warning, and don't think I didn't hear you sneak by the kitchen and head down the stairs," Dean bellowed in laughter from somewhere down the hall.

I stashed the black-light, and waited on the other side of the trap, demon knife in hand. I plastered a scared look on my face – it wasn't hard to do. I'd watched Dean die in my arms, and having him come back as a demon was like watching him die all over again. Hurt worse actually. The arrogant attitude, the empty black as pit eyes, the way his very presence had the fine hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention. My breathing got heavier. I was on the cusp of getting my brother back. The real Dean was still in there somewhere just under the skin. His wayward soul shriveled up and huddled in filth, shuddering against a rough brick wall.

I estimated only a few more doses of my blood and I'd have him back. Maybe not even.

"So help me, I'm going to save you, Dean," I whispered, my heart throbbing in my chest.

I kept my attention on the door. Everything was quiet, far too quiet. My fingers twisted slightly and I curled them around the hilt of the blade holding tight.

Dean was there. Just outside the door. I didn't need to hear him to know, yet, I still startled at the first loud bang and splinter of wood.

An axe? Seriously?

Dean poked his head in the jagged hole he'd made and flashed a smug smile. "Man, I always wanted to do that," he said, then chopped through the door completely.

"Dean," I gasped and retreated a step.

"What are you doing in here, Sam?" Dean took two mighty strides toward me.

"Back off, Dean," I balked, raising the knife. "I don't want to use this on you, but I will."

"Die, bitch, die," Dean laughed, green eyes closing and reopening coal-black.

I could feel my lips go white, and my tongue was coated with dryness, and though I tried not to allow it, my entire body started to shake.

"You think you can stop me, Sam?" He made his way toward me cautiously.

God, seeing him like this was too much, way worse than Shape-shifter-Dean had ever been. But I held my ground. Watching my brother closely. "We'll see." I egged him on waving the knife.

Dean nodded. "So you thought this was a good idea, huh?"

"I'm going to cure you, Dean, you'll thank me for it later," I said with confidence.

"That's not what I'm talking about." Dean went to take the final step into the trap, and it was all I could do not to smile.

But my smile faded when he swiftly zigzagged around my devil's trap and flipped the axe around, slamming the blunt end into my injured shoulder.

"Gah," I cried out and dropped to my knees, the demon knife slipping out of my hand.

Dean kicked it away and grabbed me by the hair. "You had to know I wouldn't fall for another devil's trap, genius." He got right in my face. "You really went through a lot of trouble to sucker me…didn't you, Sam?"

"Not too much trouble," I said, whipping out the blood-filled syringe I had stashed, and sunk the needle into Dean's upper chest, quickly depressing the plunger with my thumb. "Backup to the backup," I whooped.

Dean cried out in pain, slapping the empty syringe from my hand.

I tried to roll away, but he was still too quick and stronger than me, shoving his forearm against my neck and crushing my Adam's apple.

"I can't believe you!" Dean cringed, his angry black eyes fluttering.

"Believe it," I gulped for air.

Dean nodded, looked away, then turned back and punched my lights out.

Bam!

/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/

I didn't have to open my eyes to know I was seated in the same chair I'd strapped Dean in for the ride. Turnabout wasn't fair play. Turnabout sucked.

I felt wrecked.

But I was a Winchester. A solider in the fox hole and I'd keep waving my flag even when the bombs of death detonated all around me.

Family was all we had. Dean and I were roped and anchored to one another. And if he went down, so would I. I wasn't going to give up on him. Not ever again! Tears tugged at my eyes but I wouldn't let them spill, hyperaware Dean was in the room. No way, I was going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how bad I was hurting. He wasn't moving or saying anything, but I could smell sulfur and feel his heated stare.

"I know you're awake," Dean said, his voice dangerous and deadly low as he moved next to me. "You never stood a chance against a demon like me, Sam," he whispered in my ear, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"You won't be a demon for much longer. You won't," I stated, my lower lip quivering with emotion. "You're going to let me out of this chair." I opened my eyes and glared at Dean. "And we are going to fight for your humanity. You hear me?" I asked, my voice sounding gravelly.

"Glory boy," Dean snarled and backhanded me.

My head whipped to one side; felt like it would spin right off and I groaned. "You can hit me all you want, Dean." I spit and licked away the taste of blood from my lips. "Won't change the fact you are so pumped full of human blood right now you just might float away."

Dean started laughing.

"It's not funny," I hissed.

"Yeah, it is. You really reeled me in like a fish, huh, Sam?" He raised a brow. "But who's in the hot seat now?" he wheezed, fingers twitching, body flinching, sweat pouring off of him like raging rapids.

"Look at yourself, Dean. We're close." And we were. By the looks of him maybe the last hit might have done it, but he was still fighting it. I needed to get out of this damn chair.

Dean paced around the room like a caged tiger, eyes never leaving mine.

"That cold-hard-rock inside of you is about to shatter," I grimaced, a knot in my shoulder throbbing.

"Only cold-hard rock in this room is your head, Sam," he said with a shudder.

"I know you, Dean. You're about to break." I wiggled against the ropes. "I won't let it have you," I yelled frustration running high as I tugged and pulled some more.

"It?" Dean laughed. "Oh, 'It' has me all right, Sam." Dean edged over to the table and leaned heavily against it staring down at the syringes. "And now 'It' has you too. And you know nothing about nothing. Fooled you twice already. And I have my own backup plans, bro."

"What are you talking about?" I jerked and yanked some more, feeling the rope loosen slightly. "Let me go," I shouted.

"Not happening, Sam," Dean sucked in a breath picking up a hypodermic.

"Fine, don't let me go, but please, Dean, you're so close. Just…you have to give yourself another shot. Just one more. Take it. You need it. You want it. You know you do, Dean."

"This is too friggin' awesome," Dean muttered, sauntering back over to stand beside me. "Sam, Sam, Sam," he tisked and grabbed me by the hair, titling my head off to one side. What was it with the hair?

"No." My breath snagged in my throat. "What are you doing?" Every neck muscle strained as I tried to lurch away.

"Going to give you a taste of my own medicine, man," Dean said, aiming the needle at a vein.

"That's stupid, Dean. It's my blood and it won't –"

"I said my medicine, geek, not yours." Dean's eyes flashed black.

I frowned, confused.

"Really, Sam. I thought you were supposed to be the brains here."

Suddenly my heart raced, my head pounded, and my stomach flopped. "What. Did. You. Do?" I growled, each word out slowly, eyes shifting toward the blood-filled vile in his hand.

"There's my college boy," Dean said sarcastically.

"You- you didn't," I stuttered.

"Oh, but I did." Dean held tighter to the needle, and coughed raggedly. "Chock full of demon blood," he uttered.

"Oh, my god," I whispered.

"You need it. You want it. You know you do, Sam," Dean mocked me.

"Dean, no." My voice echoed through the room in its urgency. Hot tears fell, scorching down my face. Of all the evil things he could have done to me. I fought hard, rocking about in the chair, scrapping the legs along the floor trying to back away.

Dean leaned in closer and I felt the point of the needle touch my neck.

"You can't," I rasped.

Dean raised a brow and chuckled, "The candy man can." He pressed in just the slightest bit, yet still not piercing my skin, obviously wanting to take his time and enjoy this.

"Don't. Don't," I begged him. "We're almost there."

"No mercy." Dean braced a hand to the chair and leaned his weight against it.

His face was real close to mine, but I wasn't seeing my brother. I was trying real hard not to see anything at all. I couldn't look into those empty black eyes again. My feet scrambled at the floor, but I went nowhere.

"Fight this, Dean. Just try. Please. You hear me? Fight hard."

I was dizzy with panic. Shaking and swallowing down over and over.

"Oh, come on," Dean taunted gamely. "Don't tell me you've never thought about it. Crossing that line?" Dean paused, the tip of the needle ready to drive into my flesh. "Going to help you cross that line, join me in my addiction…need a new BFF. You can be the new Crowley," he laughed, then coughed.

"No! Rather die," I spat, trembling and jolting against my bindings.

Dean trembled, he was exhausted and weak and so close to breaking. But he'd shove that needle into me before I'd ever break free of the ropes to stop him. He had to want to beat this as much as I wanted him too or it was over. "Dean, you can make it back. Just try."

Dean's knees suddenly dipped. "You've lost, Sam." The cold point of the needle tip pricked my skin.

"I did lose." I gritted my teeth preparing for the worst. "I lost something way more important to me than breathing ever was." I slammed my eyes shut. This was it. I'd failed him again. "I lost you, Dean. I'm so sorry…I lost you."

I waited for the plunge of demon blood to course through me like white lightning, but it didn't come. Instead I heard Dean's breathing change from seething rage to something more harsh and desperate.

"Sammy," Dean exhaled my name in a whisper, and then the sharp point of the needle was gone.

The way he'd said my name I knew Dean was Dean again –at least mostly so.

My eyes flew open.

A look of fear and panic had washed over my brother's face.

"I have a really weird feeling," Dean muttered, tottering off his feet and looking as pale as I'd ever seen him look.

"That's it, Dean. It's working," I sung out excitedly. "You're here with me now." I renewed my efforts to free myself.

"Sammy?" Dean frowned down at the syringe in his hand. "Son of a bitch, what have I done?" He opened his clenched hand and the vial fell from his fingers to the floor.

"Nothing," I assured quickly. "You did nothing, Dean." I wiggled around like a mad man, watching as the syringe full of Dean's demon blood rolled away and bumped up against the wall.

"Oh, my, God, Sam, what I said to you, what I was about to do?" He started crying, big crocodile tears streaming out of his green eyes. "I was all alone in the world." He swayed.

"It's okay, big brother," I panted desperate to be rid of the ropes. I had to get to him. Afraid that this moment could slip away and Demon Dean would be back. "It's okay. You'll be okay. You're not alone anymore…you have me. I'm here, buddy."

"The rage, the anger…Sammy…I…I…I never wished you weren't…that mom never…that you…I wanted to kill you, kill anyone who got in my way." Dean shook his head and hung it in shame, unable to get the words out.

"Dean, listen to me, it was nothing I couldn't handle," I lied. "You're drunk on human blood, dude. It'll pass." I pulled and yanked, still unable to break loose. "Shit, Dean, you've got to untie me, man, so I can help you."

Dean just stood there, crying, shoulders shaking so hard I'd thought he'd gone into another seizure. My heart sank as I watched him struggle as all that pent up-human pain and emotion came gushing back. The look of intense despair on him worried me. I needed to get that look off his face.

"Damn it," I groaned when the ropes bit in harder and I felt blood well up on my writs. "Dean, I need you to stop ugly crying for two seconds…and get these… ropes… off me." I fought harder to do just that.

Dean hesitated, snuffling and hiccupping as he tried to take in air. The rush of emotions that had been buried alive bubbling to the surface like black gold.

"It's over, brother," I reminded softly. "You're back."

Dean eyed me with doubt, rubbing at his eyes. His gloriously green albeit bloodshot eyes!

"There really was no me, without you," he murmured then flopped weakly against me nearly toppling me to the floor – chair and all.

"Dean," I said wincing hard as his chin dug into my injured shoulder.

"What?" He didn't move, half-standing, half-slumped, his arms dangling limp at his side.

"Awkward." I struggled underneath him.

"Forgive me, Sammy," he hiccupped in my ear.

"Only if you help untie me," I retorted, taking in big gulps of air.

Dean kept his chin on my shoulder, but reached around behind the chair, both our fingers fumbling to untie the rope.

"That's it, good, good," I chanted.

Dean's breathing rose to hyperventilating, and I could feel his heart thundering in his chest, more sobs tearing from his throat.

"Hey. Hey." My own panicked breathing rose. "You okay?"

"I guess." Dean exhaled, and then sucked in a choking breath.

"Try to take it easy. How're you feeling?"

"A lit…lit…a little," Dean stuttered, and then just straight up slithered spinelessly to his back on the floor. "Fog-groggy," he said narrowing his eyes at me.

"Fog-groggy?" I had to snicker, looking down at him. "That's a new one." I gave another mighty tug on the ropes, and they finally tore free. "Hold on a second." I bent over immediately working the rope around my ankles. "You okay down there?" I wiggled and rocked in the chair.

"Stop moving so much." Dean squinted. "Trying to get a look up your skirt," he gave a wet snort.

"Welcome back." I rolled my eyes. "How are you doing really?" I asked still trying to undo his sailor knots.

"Pretty bad so far," he half sobbed, half-laughed.

His mouth was open, low grunts escaping as he panted for breath, his body shuddering hard.

"Breathe, Dean, just breathe."

"Am breathing, idiot," he choked out.

"You might need a few more hits," I told him, "Just to make sure."

Dean grimaced hard. "Sammy, I c-couldn't control it. I felt lost, like I was walking through a haze of-of smoke, like my ass switched places with my head."

"Dude," I had to laugh or I'd cry. My big brother really was back. "You're head's out of your ass now, Dean. Crap." I broke free of the last of the rope and kicked the chair aside, sinking down next to Dean. "I got you." I dragged him up into my lap. "I got you right here with me, Dean."

"Good place to be," Dean sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm tired."

My guess was all that emotion drained his battery.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, as he faded off to sleep.

"Don't worry." I hugged him closer. "We're both going to live long enough to make it all up to each other." I lay my chin on top of his head and closed my eyes. "I promise."

The end