I know precisely when this story formed in my mind…yesterday evening and I can tell you whose fault it is…SikemiNatural's. She made an SPN vid using this song: The End Where I Begin by The Script. I watched the vid, listened to the song and heard the line in the song that I used for the title and the summary for this fic. I just want to say that this fic has nothing to do with her vid or the song. It was just this one line in the song that inspired this fic. I don't own the song, I don't own SPN. But I do own all the grammar mistakes…please forgive me for them. Oh and if you're by any chance reading Sensitive, I'm working on the next chapter and it should be up soon. So…

…enjoy…

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The warm water was washing away the dirt and the dried blood from the latest hunt. It was all swirling around his feet, making the already brown floor of the shower even browner, until the drain drank it all up.

Warm water to dull the ache in his muscles, warm water to remind him that he can still feel, still hurt. He's been feeling numb for the past few days, year's maybe…numb inside his head, numb inside his heart.

The water…a soft caress down his body, touching parts of him, he never knew could hurt, slipping down his back, chest, stomach, legs, slipping all the way down to his toes.

Soaping up his body, his fingers lingered on his hip…

You never forget your first scar. All the others are like a background sound, a hum you don't even hear right, but this rough patch of skin beneath your thumb is the real deal.

You never forget the first scar and the way you called out your brother's name, almost scraping your throat raw from the force. How you panted, how your eyes closed shut, letting one lonely tear fall down your cheek and how you sucked it up right before anyone could see it. Anyone BUT your brother.

There are other scars of course, that background hum will never quiet down, there are other memories, other cry outs for your brother, but none is as sweetly painful as the first one. You run your thumb over the thin line of never healed flesh, remember the knife and how it shone in the light, remember the burning pain you felt when the scar formed…in a flash you're there like you never left.

You run your thumb over it again, the soap so soft over that painful memory that it makes you sigh and push your head under the spray of summer rain. It's just a scar, you think, a scar that will never fade away.

Nothing can make you cringe and hide as much as the memory of how it felt when you first tasted pain. No one can make you forget the softly whispered: 's gonna be okay, you're alright, you're gonna be okay, 's okay.

The water has turned cold now, running like ice all over his body, hurting him in a different way then all of those scars.

Pins and needles, you think, pins and needles on your shower heated skin.

The hot water's gone…ups. Someone is gonna be pissed and when you turn off the shower, you can hear that someone moving in the other room.

The person whose name you'll always gonna cry out when another scar will be born.

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The End.