A/N: I honestly didn't think I'd ever write another Supernatural story again (especially one happening in the early seasons); not that I don't like it anymore or that I've stopped watching the show; don't think I could ever do that as long as Jensen Ackles is there to give us Dean; I just have my own reasons for not writing anymore.

Anyway, I found this unfinished story on my laptop and since I hate any unfinished work, even if it's just a fiction; I had to do something about it; didn't really matter that I haven't even posted it before leaving it there; I still couldn't stand the idea of something unfinished. So, here it is; another story; Dean-centric but with some other characters there, as well and definitely with lots of brotherly love between Dean and Sam.

This happens during season 2 and I think when I started writing this (and then left it and completely forgot about it), season 8 was still airing! Time flies! Still, season 2 is like AGES AGO! With season 13 airing now, it feels like the events of the second season belong to some other show; things have changed so much! Still, I needed to use the situation of those days to create this story; hope you can remember a few things about those episodes so this story wouldn't sound too strange now.

So, if anyone's reading this, I hope you enjoy it and I hope you can take a minute of your time to leave me a review so that I'd know what you think. Thanks.

Disclaimer: The title is taken from a song by Patty Griffin and I still don't own anything but my mistakes and the plot of my stories.

. All That Shines Is Not Truth .

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"Leave me alone, Dean." Sam growled angrily as he stumped towards the bathroom to brush his teeth.

"Sam, I'm just saying-"

"That you're worried?" He cut his brother off. "Well, don't! I just wanna be alone. I'm tired of your constant hovering. You can never learn to give me some space."

"Sammy-"

"It's Sam. Dammit." he yelled and walked to the bathroom's door frame, hitting it with the palm of his right hand. "Why can't you get it? You're smothering me. I don't care what Dad told you before dying, I don't need a damn babysitter and I sure as hell don't need you. Sometimes I wish he hadn't traded his life for yours; sometimes I think it was easier to deal with him." As soon as those words left his mouth, Sam knew he'd screwed up; he might be a little drunk, OK, a little more than a little; but he was sober enough to realize he'd hurt Dean with those words and more importantly, he was sober enough to realize those things had been the wrong things to say; because no way he'd ever prefer having their dad around instead of Dean.

He depended on Dean, he couldn't live without his brother; what was wrong with him saying those words? Dean was still upset about the fact that their father had sold his soul for him and kept beating himself over it; heck, he'd apologized to Sam because he believed it wasn't fair that their dad had died just for him.

Sam was sure his brother had no idea that their dad had actually done Sam a bigger favor by giving Dean back to him. It was almost 6 months since their father's death, but it still was a sore point for Dean; and here, he'd said just the opposite of what he actually believed about the deal their father had made; pushing a figurative steel blade into Dean's heart, by the look of it.

Dean swallowed hard, feeling like he had fire in his throat. Grabbing his jacket, he stood up and quickly walked out of the room, not waiting for Sam to come up with a half-assed apology.

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Five minutes later, Sam was still standing there, looking like he'd been the one hit with ice water; he didn't know where those words had come from, but he knew he didn't feel drunk anymore.

Forcefully shaking himself out of his shock, he, finally, leaned against the wall next to the bathroom door and slid down slowly; hoping that Dean wouldn't take all night to come back or worse, leave him for good. Well, no, he knew Dean wouldn't do the latter; it just wasn't like him, especially with the promise he'd made to their father right after waking up from his coma. Sam was pretty sure Dean would go to a bar, get drunk, end up with a girl and come back the next day, pretending like nothing had happened between them; like Sam hadn't said the cruelest thing possible.

He just... Oh, Shit! Sam jumped up from where he'd sank to the floor. What if Dean did something stupid? Like, say, sell his soul back for their father, because Sam had said that he wanted the older man back and because Dean had contemplated that option for a while and couldn't deal with the guilt anymore?

Grabbing his cellphone, Sam quickly called Dean's number. It went straight to the voicemail. "Dammit." He cursed under his breath before hearing the beep, indicating he could leave his message. "Dean? Hey, man. Umm. Listen, you know I didn't mean what I said earlier, right? I can never, not in a million years, prefer having Dad around instead of you. We would've killed each other the second day we were alone together." He paused and took a deep breath. "Look, what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry I said those things and that I didn't mean them." Another pause and he added. "I... Dean. Please don't do any-... Please, could you just come back? I can't... I need you." With that he ended the call and sighed.

By then, he was sitting on the floor with his back against his bed, facing the door, wishing Dean would open the door and walk in; like he had been sitting in his car outside the room and Sam's call had solved everything. But that wasn't the case and Dean didn't come back.

Not that night.

Not the next day and not after hundreds of other messages left by Sam on his phone.

Around 8.30 the next night, Sam had searched the whole area, every bars and had asked people whether they'd seen Dean or not; but so far, there was nothing. He'd found the Impala and Dean's jacket in it near one of those bars, but nobody had remembered Dean there and at the end, he had nothing.

He was scared shitless and didn't know what he was supposed to do; he'd even called Bobby and had asked him if he'd heard from Dean and since the old hunter knew them too well, he'd asked the right questions, making Sam confess to his mistakes that had drove Dean away.

Bobby had been mad, Sam could say it by the way his voice changed and the curses that were pouring out of his mouth, but he loved both boys dearly and although he'd promised to have a 'talk' with Sam when he got there, he'd told him to stay calm and to not do anything stupid until he got there.

Sam was waiting for him when his phone started to ring and at the same time there was a knock on the door.

Pulling the door open, Sam let Bobby in and answered the phone at the same time. "Hello?"

"Is this umm... Sammy?"

Sam frowned at the nickname, "Yes?"

"I'm calling you from Saint George Hospital. We have a patient here who has many missed calls from you on his phone, the only thing that was on him. So I thought I should call you back and see if you knew him."

Sam's heart had sank the moment he'd heard the word 'Hospital'. He should've known. He should've known something bad had happened to Dean. It wasn't like Dean to ignore his calls. No matter how badly he screwed up, Dean always answered his calls.

"Dark blond, tall; well-built?" Sam asked quietly, glancing worriedly at Bobby who was holding his cap in his hands.

"Yes." Came the answer through the speaker. "You know him?"

"He's my..." Sam swallowed thickly. "He's my brother. What's wrong with him?" He knew it had to be bad, because if they knew nothing about their patient, it meant he'd been unconscious and unable to answer questions.

"I can't tell you anything over the phone. I just know he'd been found unconscious last night and that he's not in a very good condition. Would you please come over here and bring his insurance card with you?"

"I'm on my way."

Sam couldn't even remember how he'd ended up in Bobby's car, but by the time he ended the call, they were moving towards the hospital and he had a box full of different cards in his hand which he, apparently, had taken from the Impala's glove box, before getting into Bobby's car.

"O God! Bobby!" Sam looked at the older man worriedly, once he was done talking to whoever that had called him from the hospital. "I knew something bad must've happened. I just knew it. I knew he'd do something stupid because of the things I said-"

"Stupid thing?" Bobby looked at him sharply. "Are you suggesting that he'd tried to off himself?"

"What?" Sam's eyes widened. 'Damn. Could that be the case?' He hadn't even thought about that option. "No... No... I... Jesus Christ, I haven't thought of that. Do you think-"

"No, you idjit." Bobby growled. "Do you think that's the worst thing Dean's ever heard in his life?"

No. Sam thought. He knew neither he nor their father were considerate men when they were upset and he knew that Dean was usually the one they hurt with their words because he was the one they had around the most. No, Dean wouldn't think about suicide just because his brother was mean in a moment of weakness, because that wasn't the first time Sam had hurt him with his words.

"I... I think he might've tried to bring Dad back." Sam finally blurted out. "You know that he's blaming himself for his death and my words couldn't have helped."

Bobby was silent for a few minutes, knowing that Sam had a point. It was a scary thought, but not an impossible one. "They've found him unconscious last night." He finally uttered, sounding thoughtful.

"So?" Sam frowned.

"So you fought last night, Sam. Dean wouldn't have had enough time to do anything." Bobby pointed out. "Think! Was he feeling alright before your argument?"

Sam, surprisingly felt comforted. Bobby was right, Dean couldn't possibly have found the time to do anything to reverse their father's deal, especially with his car near that bar; and that was good because whatever it was, it meant Dean hadn't signed his death warrant. "I... I don't know. I was kinda drunk." He admitted quietly and could feel Bobby rolling his eyes, even though he couldn't see the older man's eyes.

"Well, we'll find out soon."

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... TBC ...

A/N: Hope you let me know what you think.

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I still own nothing but my mistakes and the plot of my stories.