A/n: Tochi: Yeah, this just randomly came to me because I really wanted to read a self- mutilation story, yet… couldn't find one…

Disclaimer: Flap Jack: Neither Tochi, Me, nor this fish own Supernatural, Jared, or Jensen… though that would kick arse.

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Sam fidgeted a bit in his seat, pulling his jacket sleeve down over the heel of his hand. Dean looked over at his brother, curiosity evident in his gaze before it returned to the road.

"Something wrong, Sammy?"

"It's Sam." Came the annoyed reply.

"Is something wrong, Sam?" Dean tried again.

"No, Dean, I'm fine." Sam said in the same annoyed tone, but he wasn't fine. He'd tried other methods, he really had, but in the end he resorted to… this. This was his last resort.

No, Sam wasn't going to kill himself, he didn't want to die, he just wanted to make living easier. He didn't remember when or how he'd gotten this idiotic idea, but he knew he'd first started at 15, Dean had eventually figured out, lectured him, then kept a very close eye on him for the next two months. Dean's watchful eye had kept Sam from going back to his dangerous and harmful hobby, but Jess…

Things had been just fine when he was living in the apartment with her, he'd been happy, his blade had been the farthest thing from his mind. But then she was taken away. She burned, pinned to the ceiling. He hadn't even started right afterwards, he was driven by revenge, grief not yet taking its grasp, not until a month ago.

Sam guessed it had started again right after their dad had come and helped them with the vampires, when John had shot Luther and saved his ass. Sam didn't know why, maybe it was because everyone else was saving him, but he couldn't save Jess or himself, all he knew was, he'd found a pretty blade, then made a pretty little river of blood on his arm.

He'd only used his arm once, he wasn't stupid enough to chose such an obvious place again. That had been why Dean had figured him out, wearing long sleeves in the middle of summer? Just a bit suspicious. In the end Sam had resorted to his thighs, he still got the same feeling of release, the pain easing if only for a little bit, but it came back. It always came back, but the small time that emotional pain was lifted, the grief wasn't gnawing at him, trying to chew it's way through his chest.

Sam knew Dean would eventually figure out what he was doing if he continued using his arms, so in the end he turned to his thighs. Neither of them wore shorts, and Sam would rarely show his legs anyway. He usually slept in pants, unlike his brother and his underwear habit, and to tell the absolute truth, he was glad he did at that point.

He rested his head against the window, wondering when the scars would fade enough or something would attack him and scratch up his arm so he wouldn't have to wear his jacket and long sleeves all the time, it was already starting to get warmer, and they were headed down toward Texas.

Sam let his eyes slide closed as he tried to remember his last time and which of his blades he had used. If memory served him right, last night, around midnight, and that time he had used his pocket knife, his razor stuffed safely in the bottom of his bag, hidden inside one of his socks.

He knew he would either sneak in a session at a gas station- if Dean wasn't going to stop- or in the bathroom at a motel. He hated having to use gas stations. He could never make himself bleed there, it would take to long to stop the bleeding, and he didn't want to have to start explaining things to his often lower brained brother

Sam thought for sure he would go crazy if they would end up sleeping in the car for a week. Things were… complicated. First, things were way, way to close back there, and he never knew when his brother may squirm around and hit his thighs or accidentally pull up his sleeve, and second… Sam was starting to feel… strongly toward his older brother.

He knew that Dean would never approve of such a thing, he was straight through and through, never looked at a guy in his life, let alone even consider thinking about, even in his drunkest state his little brother. Sam also didn't want to explain to his brother 'sure Dean, that was a flashlight pressing against your ass!' He was just oh-so-sure that would fly with his more than likely homophobic brother.

He bit at his inner lip to keep himself from trying to claw at his cuts through his jeans and make them bleed for once again letting his mind kick into pervo mode and want his brother's ass again

"Sam, are you sure you're alright?" Dean asked , breaking the somewhat awkward silence.

'No Dean, I'm not, but I just can't tell you everything that's wrong, how can you save me from you and myself?' Sam thought somewhat bitterly.

"Yes, I'm fine, I would have told you if something was wrong, Dean." Sam lied once again.

Dean frowned at his brother's response, he knew it wasn't the truth. Dean wanted to know what was wrong with his little brother, it was a part of his brotherly duties to keep him safe, and if something was bothering him, he wasn't safe

Sam glanced over at his brother, he knew Dean could see through his façade, but if he didn't press the subject, then Sam was safe another day to be a danger to himself.

He had one more day to Cut.

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A/n: Tochi: well, chapter one went smoothly!

Flap Jack: and it's longer than the one she's currently brain stuck on, you remember, 'Have You Seen My Brother?' from… a few weeks ago?

Tochi: shut up Flap Jack ;;;

And another note, I haven't updated in a while because A) I got grounded for no reason B) John (dad) is an asshat C) Sammy's kept me busy with our roleplay –giggles- and I haven't been able to make more chapters D) I couldn't get into the login page thingy when I did get back to update.

Flap Jack: P Yeah whatever, multi-chaptered, so review, put it on alert, stand back AND JOIN MY EVIL ARMY!