Disclaimer: I used to own supernatural, the boys, the Impala and everything else on the show. But then, the men in white gave me my meds and I had to take them.

Summary: This wasn't how they were supposed to be. This distance between them was wrong. What the hell had happened between them? Set after Sam gets his soul back and a curse from a witch takes him back to simpler, happier times.

A/N: I think I've said this somewhere before that season 2 was Sam's best season. Some time ago I watched a few episodes of season 1 and season 2. Then I watched seasons 4 and 5. It was painful to see what their relationship had become. I don't think it ever will be what it used to even after Sam gets his soul back.

Groggily, Sam opened his eyes as he came back to consciousness. Where the hell was he? Looking around, he figured out that it was some kind of a basement. Great. Captured again. He tested the strength of the bonds that were holding his hands behind the pillar. No give. So, he did the next thing they usually did. Try and get the knife out of his sleeve. Trying to angle himself for that purpose, Sam discovered that he had no knife up his sleeve. Or a sleeve for that matter. Whoever had knocked him out had also removed his shirt, leaving him bare-chested in the cold basement. How the hell hadn't he noticed that before? He must have hit his head harder than he thought.

Since he would be going nowhere fast, Sam took a mental inventory of his state. Physically, he seemed okay, if you discounted the pounding headache and a deep cut in his chest. He might be concussed, Sam deduced, since he couldn't remember what day it was or how he had got there. The last thing he could remember was driving off with his brother after a hunt, with Bobby's car trailing behind. He had been looking at his brother, thinking how smart he had been in the last case. He wouldn't change a thing about his brother. Granted he was an iconic leech that hit on anything that moved, had the table manners of a hungry pig and the hygiene of one as well, but when it came to the things that mattered, Dean couldn't be better. Why the hell did he always insist on acting like an idiot around everyone and simply refusing to learn new things? If his applied to hunting just a little bit, really applied, like not only to the killing and shooting stuff but researching and remembering stuff as well, he could be the best hunter out there. If only Dean would give up his disdain for the 'art of geekdom', as he called it, and realized that half the things Sam researched actually did come useful, well, he wouldn't need Bobby or Sam anymore. So maybe it was a good thing that Dean had decided that ignorance was bliss.

Those had been the last thoughts he could remember. Somehow, between that time and now,, he had ended up in captivity and had no idea whether Dean was coming for him or not or if he even knew that Sam had been captured.

After wasting an hour trying to get the attention of his captor or captors by shouting himself silly, Sam heard the comforting sound of heavy boots coming down the stairs. Relief filled him as he saw faded jeans come into sight, followed by a leather jacket that was still too big for his brother. Dean had found him. And not without a fight, judging by his bruised face.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean called out, rushing to his side and undoing the ropes around his wrists. Oddly enough, rather than checking him out for injuries, Dean stood about a foot away from him, looking in his eyes, searching, as it seemed, for mental trauma rather than physical one.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam answered, rubbing his wrists and putting on the shirt Dean had handed him. Usually, he would have added a 'Get off me' after that to stop Dean from mother-henning him, but for some reason, Dean wasn't on him right now. "Dean, I don't remember anything. Where are we? What the hell happened?"

"Yeah, I figured this might happen." Dean replied, as if he had gotten the answer to his unasked question. "C'mon, let's get you out of here. I will fill you in while driving back."

Dean looked different, Sam thought. Now that he saw his brother closely, Dean looked older, though that might just be the bruises on his face. But he definitely seemed weary, more tired. His shoulders were sagging in a way Sam had never seen before and there was none of his usual swagger as he walked away from Sam. And wasn't that an oddity in itself. Usually, after such a rescue, Dean would wait and let Sam go ahead, just to make sure that he didn't need support or fall flat on his face. His disappearance must have done a number on Dean. How long had he been gone? Though if he had been gone for that long, surely Dean would look much more relieved on finding him. Maybe even enough to hug him. Pondering on the subject, Sam followed Dean out of the cellar.

"A memory witch?"

"Yeah." Dean confirmed. "She had a spell that could wipe away people's memories, literally take their minds back to their childhood. She needed her victims blood to work the spell. Once she had that, the vics would be locked up in a loony-bin, you know, on account of suddenly thinking that they were five years old, and then she would use the stored blood to slowly drain their life energy. And they couldn't do anything, since they already were in a padded cell."

"Huh?" Sam digested the information, unconsciously pressing the cloth harder on the wound on his chest to keep the blood from seeping through his shirt. "So how did I end up down there?"

"You were supposed to keep her busy while I scoped her place for clues." Dean answered. "I guess she took a liking to you, as usual."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, monsters usually take a liking to you." Dean replied. "You know what I mean."

Sam really didn't, but he refrained from pressing the issue.

"So, how long was I in there?"

"Five – six hours, I guess. You were supposed to call me after you left her and when you didn't call and didn't pick up the phone, I knew she had you."

"Six hours?" Sam seemed surprised. "And you are saying you knew where I was from the moment I went missing?" Dean nodded. "What the hell took you so long to come and get me?"

"I had to kill her first, didn't?" Dean replied defensively. "The witch was vulnerable only while performing magic, so I waited till she started on you. And then I had to get rid of the body first along with all of her spell-books in a merry little bonfire in the backyard. Couldn't risk one of the neighbors calling 911."

Sam felt oddly satisfied and dissatisfied with the answer. It was a perfectly logical explanation. He hadn't been in any immediate danger and it would have been risky for them to let the police confiscate any of her spell-books, lest they fall in wrong hands. So everything Dean had done was smart and rational. But since when had Dean ever been rational when it came to Sam's safety?

"Sam, you feeling okay?"

"Yeah." Sam replied. "Just thinking, you know. That was a smart move. Normally, you'd have just rushed in, guns ablaze, shooting at everything in sight. This is good. So, any ideas how to lift that memory spell on me?"

"No. She had started on you, so I guess you lost some, but I couldn't find any way to reverse it." Dean answered. "I got her soon enough, so you shouldn't have lost much. What's the last thing you remember?"

"The last case I guess." Sam said. "I certainly don't remember anything on this case or ever hearing of it. The last thing I know was that we were driving away from the campus with Bobby."

"What campus?"

"You know, the one with haunting and the aliens?"

"You mean fairies?" Dean was puzzled.

"C'mon Dean, did the witch get you too?" Sam asked. "The college campus the trickster was using as a playground. We killed it and we were high-tailing it out of there before the cops came."

Dean's brows scrunched in concentration for a moment and then they cleared as he abruptly stopped the car by the side of the road.

"Sam, which year is this?" Dean asked in a hushed tone that made chills go up and down Sam's spine.

"2007. February, since I last knew." Sam answered. "Why, what's the matter?"

Dean covered his face with his hands as realization dawned on him.

"It's not 2007, Sam, its 2011." Dean said. "November, to be exact. God, that spell must work faster than I thought. I thought that since I got her as soon as she started, there should be little or no effect."

"You are kidding, right?" Sam said, disbelievingly. "There is no way I'd lose four and a half years of my life and not know about it."

"Sam, look at your cell, check out the date for yourself."

"Dude, if this is a prank, it has got to be one of your worst ones." Sam said, after his cell confirmed what Dean had told him. "Are you still mad at me for that trickster thing? I already said I was sorry. Why are you still pulling my leg?"

"I'm not pulling your leg and that trickster thing was almost five years ago." Dean answered, turning the rearview mirror towards Sam. "Look at yourself. Don't you look different?"

He did, Sam realized. Apart from the lump on his head, undoubtedly from where the witch had hit him, his hair was longer, face more lined and just older. For a moment he couldn't recognize himself. So it was true. He had supernaturally induced retrograde amnesia.

"Crap." Sam said, horrified. "I've lost five years of my life. Wha- how- what are we gonna do?"

"Relax, okay." Dean said comfortingly. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

"Dean, I lost, like, a sixth of my life." Sam said. "Excuse me while I freak the fuck out."

Dean waited patiently while Sam's breathing even out before asking, "You done?"

"What the hell is going on?" Sam said, looking around as if he would see all the memories he had lost somewhere inside the car. "I mean, really, what have we been doing these five years? Hunting?"

"Duh."

"Yeah, ofcourse we are." Sam continued his rant. "But what about everything else? What about what Dad told you and that yellow-eyed demon? Are we even getting closer to finding it?"

"All that's over Sam." Dean answered. "We finished it a few months after you lose your memory. Trust me, you are free from your evil destiny and Yellow-eyes is dead."

"Dead? How?"

"The colt. I killed it with the colt."

Sam suppressed the rising emotion of pride he felt for his brother. Not the right time now.

"How? I thought he had the colt? How did we get it back?"

"We took it from him during final fight."

"And he just let us?"

"Jesus, Sam." Dean shouted, exasperated. "You lose five years and Yellow-eyes is all you can talk about?"

"Oh , sorry." A pause. "So what's new with you?"

Dean shot an exasperated look at him.

"Yeah, got it." Sam said. "We'll figure it out."

Clearly, a lot had changed between them, but Sam could still read his brother without words.

It was rather disappointing to find out that he was still hunting after five years. Sam had thought, hoped, that once their life-quest was over, he'd have another chance a safe and normal life. He had been genuine in his promise to Dean that he'd never leave him again and apparently he had kept it. But he had hoped that after killing the demon, Dean would finally grow tired of the constant danger and want to settle down. Apparently not, though who knew? Maybe some time during the five years, they had tried a normal life, only for Dean to grow bored out of his mind and drag them back into the game. That didn't sound like Dean, but Sam felt like he hardly knew his brother anymore.

That man was not the brother he knew. He was more distant, callous almost. After returning to the motel room, Dean had taken off his jacket to reveal a nasty looking burn on his bicep. How the witch had burnt him without burning the jacket or the two layers below it, Sam would never know. Without even waiting for Sam to offer to bandage it, Dean had picked up one of their first aid kits and shut himself in the bathroom. Usually, he'd have offered to treat Sam first.

Sam looked down at his chest where the blood was still seeping through his fingers. As soon as they'd come back, Sam had thrown his shirt in the trash, knowing it to be unsalvageable and now it looked like his jeans and boxers were going the same way. Looking up, he found Dean back in the room, a fresh bandage peeking down from under his t-shirt.

"You wrapped that up yourself?" He asked, pointing towards the burn. He hadn't heard a squeak from the bathroom and Dean was such a baby when it came to cleaning those things. God knew that Sam knew that Dean could take the pain, but he appreciated his brother for showing a little bit of weakness from time to time.

"Yeah." Dean shrugged. "Can't have it scarring. How are you doing?"

"Not good." Sam replied. "Looks like I'm gonna need stitches."

"Looks like it." Dean said after taking a moment to stare at the wound and then went about packing his first aid kit. It took about ten seconds of intense staring by Sam to get his attention and five more before realization dawned on Dean's puzzled face.

"Oh. Right. Okay, uh, lay down and I'll get the spirit and the twine."

Sam stared puzzled at his brother while Dean cleaned and stitched his wound. What the hell was going on with them? Since when did they dress their own wounds? The way Dean was stitching him, hesitant and a little unsure, it was clear that it had been some time since he had done it last. Why the hell would he stop Dean from taking care of him and why the hell would Dean let him.

Five years was a long time, Sam realized as the day progressed. A lot had changed in the world in five years. They had been through the greatest economic depression since 1929. There had been a lot of hurricanes and storms and other natural disasters, particularly in late 2009 and early 2010. Apple had come up with even better computers. The best movies in the box-office were about sparkling vampires. And they now had a black president. Apparently a lot could change in five years, but the changes in Dean seemed unnatural and out of place.

For example, Dean hadn't once borrowed his computer to look at porn or teased Sam about looking for it. When they'd ordered pizza, Dean had ordered one with separate toppings for him rather than forcing him to eat the ones of Dean's choice. He once bothered Sam with loud music or jokes or insults and just sat on his bed going through the news for a new hunt on his own laptop (apparently, Dean had gotten his own computer a while back). And he hadn't left his stuff lying all around for Sam to crib at. Though Dean wouldn't be winning any prizes for cleanliness any time soon, he had put his stuff back in some semblance of an order. All in all, Dean was acting exactly like Sam had asked him to a few days ago – five years ago, Sam reminded himself. But it seemed just wrong. Dean was being considerate, but that kind of consideration was displayed when you were in room with a stranger, not your own brother.

Sam had been so engrossed in catching up with all the world developments, he hadn't noticed it when Dean got up and got ready to head out. His "Back later, Sam", made him look up from the computer and see his brother pick up the keys.

"You are heading out?" He asked.

"Yeah. There is a bar nearby. Thought I could line up our pockets a bit." Dean replied. "There is still some pizza left but if you want I can pick something up from the diner."

"No, it's fine." Sam said. "It's just, you are not taking me with you?"

"Oh, um, sorry." Dean apologized. "I didn't think you'd wanna come. You look pretty busy updating your brainy-pedia."

Sam almost smiled at that, but the reality of his situation stopped him. He didn't want to go. Not really. The whole biker bar and hustling wasn't exactly his scene. But since when had that mattered to Dean? Normally Dean would just tell him to pack his stuff and come, telling him to continue in the bar. If Sam resisted, Dean would insult him, calling him a geek and a stick-up-the-ass and tell him to learn to have some fun. If Sam was still adamant, Dean would wheedle him into going by saying that since he'd be hustling the locals, it'd be nice to have some back-up, in case things went side-ways. Nine times out of ten, if Dean wanted to go to a bar, Sam tagged along. And now Dean wasn't even asking him?

"Yeah, I'm fine here." Sam said. "Go, have fun. Try not to sleep with more than one girl tonight."

Dean opened his mouth, as if about to tell Sam something else that he'd forgotten, but thought better of it and left.

Sam woke up with a start as his phone started ringing. His new phone, Sam reminded himself, because his old one which had been customized exactly the way he liked and still had all of his old contacts was long gone.

"Hello?" Sam said trying to keep from yawning.

"Sam, it's me." Dean's voice replied from the other end. "I need you to come pick me up."

"Why? What happened? Where are you?" Sam asked, suddenly worried.

"It's fine. I'm at Wendy's bar." Dean replied. "I had a little too much to drink and Wendy here took my keys."

"And now you want me to come and get you in a cab since you took the car." Sam said, exasperated. Apparently his brother hadn't changed that much. "Dean, I don't know where the bar is. What am I supposed to roam around the town till I find it?"

"Yeah, sorry, you are right." Dean replied. "I'll just walk back."

What the hell? Dean was just giving up after the token resistance? This was how they rolled. Sam made Dean feel bad about dragging him out in the middle of the night. Dean would make Sam feel bad about leaving his brother alone. And when they'd meet up, they'd argue all the way back over who was in the wrong. Apparently, not anymore.

"No, don't." Sam said back. "I'll find you. You just sit tight." Sam hung up the phone and tried to rub the remnants of his sleep from his eyes.

What the hell had that been? Not Dean, but before that. He had been having the nightmare of the lifetime. It wasn't a vision, he knew that because there had been no accompanying headache. Besides, the dream had been too weird for that. At the same time it had been too vivid and detailed for a normal nightmare. He didn't know how to describe it because there had been no logical occurrences there. It'd felt like he had been drowning in pain and terror and despair for no apparent reason. Nevertheless, he knew that it had something to do with the lost five years and he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to know what.

Sam found Dean an hour later at the bar, nearly passed out on the table. Once again Sam was made to realize how different their lives were now. Clearly, form Dean's behavior, this wasn't a new occurrence for them, though, if his surprise at seeing Sam was any indication, he hadn't actually expected Sam to be there, atleast not for a few more hours. Dean didn't even put up the token façade of 'I can still drive' when they got to the car and quietly loaded himself in the passenger seat while Sam took the driver's.

Looking over at Dean trying to stay awake while they drove back, Sam's mind harkened back to the conversation they'd had back in the motel room. He'd asked Dean to fill him in on what had happened during the last five years, how they'd killed the yellow-eyed demon and Dean had told him only the bare minimum. The yellow-eyes needed a psychic kid to open a door to hell which demons couldn't get near and he had used put them through a Survival-esque competition in an abandoned town and no, Sam hadn't killed anyone, Dean had gotten him out of there before. The last survivor had headed to the Devil's gate with the colt, which happened to be the key and they had traced him there following the big-ass demonic signs. There they had gotten the colt and killed the demon when he showed up and that was it. They'd been hunting other things ever since. Well, that was a load of bull if Sam ever heard one and he'd called Dean on it, but Dean had replied that there was nothing more to know and Sam would feel stupid for thinking that once he got his memories back. They were heading to Bobby's tomorrow to find out how to break the spell.

Maybe there actually wasn't anything else to find out, Sam thought. Maybe this distance between them was natural for them nowadays and maybe Sam reciprocated in full. Maybe there was actually a very simple explanation for all of this, one that Sam didn't want to believe.

"You don't love me anymore." Sam said, surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

"Huh?" Dean looked up drowsily.

"I said, maybe you shouldn't drink so much anymore." Sam backtracked. He wasn't sure he wanted to have this conversation with Dean right now.

"You are the one to talk." Dean replied.

"What are you talking about?" Sam said. "I don't drink like that."

"Yeah, you do." Dean replied. "Atleast nowadays. Don't worry about it, it's okay. This job, it gets to you and you have to do whatever you can just to stay sane."

Sam didn't exactly agree with his brother but refrained from answering.

"There is a dent on the driver's side." Sam said, conversationally. "You usually fix that almost immediately."

"Yeah, got in a fender-bender." Dean explained, scratching his neck. "I'll get it when we get to Bobby's."

Sam took note of this as another one of his brother's erratic behaviors. Looking over at Dean, he saw his shirt riding low on the neck and revealing bruises on it. What the hell? Sam hadn't noticed those before. They looked a few days old. What had they been hunting before the witch? He noticed one other thing.

"You are not wearing your amulet?"

"Yeah, uh, I lost it." Dean answered. "During a hunt. We tried to find it but couldn't. Sam all of this was ages ago. You gotta learn that a lot of things are different now."

"Yeah, I'm getting that." Sam replied. "Did something happen with us? Something bad?"

"A lot of bad things happened." Dean said. "We hunt monsters for a living Sam. Bad things come with the territory."

"No, I mean, between us. Like with you and me." Sam clarified. "You have been giving me a cold shoulder all day and it doesn't feel like you are mad at me because you never had a problem showing that before. There is this distance between us and I'm not liking it."

"Dude, trust me, I have no idea what you are talking about." Dean replied. "Look, this is how we are now, we trust each-other and respect each-other's boundaries. Really, once you get your memories back, you are gonna feel like an idiot fro thinking like that."

"And Bobby, you think he can help us get my memories back?"

"There is no one else we can go to with such a problem, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Sam agreed, but none of this made him feel any more comfortable about the whole situation.

Later that night, after once again waking up from another painful and vivid nightmare, Sam was convinced that something very-very bad had happened to him and he wasn't sure anymore if he really wanted to remember. This nightmare had been the worst he could remember, if the state of his bed was any indication, but clearly not the worst Dean had seen, since it hadn't even woken him up. Granted, his drunken state might have something to do with that.

Usually when he had nightmares, Dean would wake him up. Or if Dean thought he really needed his sleep, he'd just come and sit beside Sam, his comforting presence enough to chase away the dreams. On rare occasions, Dean would lie down and go to sleep beside him, not cuddling, never cuddling as Dean would deny vehemently the next morning, but just sleeping side by side and even Sam's unconscious mind could feel the safety and security that Dean's presence provided. Sam tried that now. He tried going over to his brother's bed and lying down beside him, in the hope that it would bring up some semblance of what he had felt before.

It didn't. Dean didn't even move a bit to accommodate Sam's large frame. HE didn't turn around to wrap his arm around Sam's shoulder's, unconsciously drawing him closer. There was none of the safety and comfort he usually felt beside Dean and Sam ended up lying awake beside his brother for the whole night.

Atleast Bobby's place hadn't changed much, Sam thought as he made his way through the old Hunter's doorway. The whole house was as shabby and disorganized as ever. And the cars were still piled up high outside. It was as if the whole place was stuck in suspended animation. Much like Bobby himself. Sam couldn't see anything different in him from the last time he'd seen him.

"Hey, Bobby." Dean said, throwing their bags on the nearest couch. "You find anything yet?"

"Nope." Bobby replied, closing some of the old books that were lying open on his desk. "Sam, you feeling okay? Feel alright?"

"Apart from not knowing what the hell has been going on for the last few years?" Sam said. "Yeah, just peachy."

"You know, this might not be such a bad thing after all." Bobby sat down. "I mean, Lord knows I'd give anything to forget the past few years."

"What do you mean?" Sam immediately caught the slip-up. "Dean said we have just been hunting all this time. Did something big happen?"

Sam didn't miss the look that passed between Bobby and Dean and he didn't miss the slight shake Dean gave the older hunter.

"You know, the ob has been tough." Bobby explained. "You boys have been through a lot of rough hunts, lost a lot of friends along the way. I'm just saying, might not be a good idea to bring it all back."

"Okay, enough of reminiscing." Dean interrupted curtly. "You got something, anything at all?"

"All I got is that this is old magic." Bobby sighed. "It ain't the mojo that can be lifted just by anyone. Best guess, you'll need something more powerful to fix it. Have you talked to Castiel about this?"

"Who is Castiel?" Sam asked immediately.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment and then answered Bobby. "I tried. He seems to be a little busy with problems of his own."

"Bull." Bobby replied. "He ain't busy Dean. He just popped up for a beer few days ago."

"Guys, who the hell is Castiel?" Sam shouted. "And why do we think that he can help us?"

"Nobody, okay." Dean replied. "He's a friend, sort of a specialist in these kinds of things."

"So why haven't you called him yet?" Bobby asked.

"I forgot, okay." Dean shouted back. "I just didn't think of it."

"Didn't think of it? Boy, are you stupid?" bobby shouted back, getting up and stopping Dean before he could say anything else. "No, Dean, you have been losing your touch for some time now. I know that you don't like to come around here al lot and that's probably my fault, but that don't mean I don't keep tabs on you. And I have been hearing things. How you have been sloppy for the past few months. How you screw up again and again and get yourself into a new mess every week. If it wasn't for Sam here, you'd be dead. Hell, you even let him get captured and spelled while you should've been watching his back. How the hell did you let this happen?"

Sam was surprised at the outburst. He had never seen Bobby this angry.

"I didn't let anything happen." Dean replied coldly. "You know what? If I'm such a screw-up maybe the two of you should figure this thing out, while I go fix that dent in my car, which, for the record, wasn't my fault either."

Dean walked out of the room and Sam continued staring at a smoldering Bobby.

"What the hell was that?" He asked Bobby, his own anger bubbling through.

"Nothing." Bobby answered. "Just lost my temper a bit."

"Nothing? Bobby, you don't get to talk to him like that. You are not our Dad and our Dad doesn't - didn't get to talk to him like that."

"What?"

"You know. I'm sick of people seeing Dean as sloppy or stupid. He's easily just as smart as me, if not more and he would be the best hunter out there if he actually used his brains." Sam said. "But even if it wasn't true, you don't have any right to say all of those things."

"Sam, you call out your brother on his stupidity more than anyone else." Bobby said, looking shocked.

"Well, I get to. I'm his brother. And Dean knows that I don't mean half of it." Sam replied. "He calls me stupid just as often as I do. But you are not family. We have had no contact for years now and we have just met a few times in the past few months."

"You are confusing the times again, kid." Bobby said. "We are family. We have been through a lot in these few years."

"Oh." Sam had actually forgotten it in his indignation for Dean. "Well, that still doesn't excuse you saying those things to Dean. I mean, why the hell didn't you have a go at me? I'm the one stuck in the mess."

"I now, it was wrong." Bobby accepted. "It's just, I've been a little at odds with Dean for some time now. I heard that recently some of your hunts have gone sideways and I was kinda pissed that you guys didn't call me for help."

"So, why didn't we?" Sam asked. "You said that Dean doesn't like coming around a lot."

"That's my fault, I guess." Bobby replied. "Some time ago I kept a secret from him tha I really had no right keeping. I was just trying to protect him. But that ended badly. Really badly. And now, even though he says that he has forgiven me, I don't think that is completely true."

"Does this have something to do with me?" Sam said. "Something to do with my nightmares?"

"I think you should ask your brother about it." Bobby replied. "I know that he is trying to protect you, but he has always trusted you to take care of yourself, hasn't he? I'm sure that if you ask him, he'll tell you everything."

"Yeah." Sam agreed, nodding slowly. Dean had always kept a secret from him to protect him, but when Sam had asked him about it, like asked sincerely, Dean had always told him. His brother trusted him, trusted his judgment. And even though every time Dean told him a world-changing secret, like their Dad's real job or their Dad's final message, Sam had stumbled hard but Dean had always been there to support him as well. He had always been too shaken to appreciate all that then, but he could appreciate it now.

By the time Sam found Dean again, his brother had already gotten out his tools and started working on the Impala. Instead of barraging his brother with questions right away, Sam chose to just sit on the hood, making his presence known and watch his brother work. He enjoyed watching Dean work. It felt as cathartic to him as fixing the car must feel to Dean, as if all the crap they go through on daily basis would just wash away for a moment.

"You got something to say, Sam?" Dean asked, without looking up.

"Bobby shouldn't have said those things." Sam replied. "He was wrong. You are a very good hunter Dean, you always have been and I don't think that has changed. I'll admit that you hate research and you can get a little reckless, especially where I'm involved, but I think that those things aren't true anymore. You are a great hunter and you should know that."

"Yeah, I know." Dean replied curtly.

"Do you?"

"Yes. I do." Dean reiterated, finally looking up. "Is that all?"

"No. I also wanted to apologize." Dean looked surprised. "I've kept a few secrets from you and I'm sorry for that."

"What did Bobby tell you?" Dean asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing."

"Then what secrets are you talking about?"

"Dean, I didn't tell you about my visions at first and after you told me about what Dad said, I ran away. I'm just sorry for putting you through all that."

"Why are you telling me now, Sam?" Dean asked. "All this was literally, years ago."

"I know that you are angry at Bobby for keeping some secret." Sam answered. "I know that you are gonna say that you and Bobby are fine, but I know you are not. I just don't want that to be us."

"Actually, that's ironical." Dean laughed, thinking about all the things that Sam did next that he didn't remember. "Can I ask you one thing? Why do it? Why keep secrets from me?"

"I guess I was trying to protect you from me." Sam replied. "We don't exactly have a relationship of equals Dean. You just take on so much crap for me, from me and I think that one day you are just gonna say enough. It isn't worth it. Anytime I think that something might make you love me a little less, like finding out I'm a freak, I tend to hide it. I know, I should have more faith in you. I guess that in the end, the secrets hurt you more than anything else."

"That's right." Dean nodded. "And I guess that now you will try to use the same argument to try and make me tell you whatever you think I'm hiding?"

"I wasn't trying to manipulate you." Sam said. "But you know, it would be nice if you told me what happened between us, why we are so distant."

"Nothing happened." Dean replied. "The job - ."

"The job can never come between us and you know that." Sam cut him off. "Whatever this is, its big and personal. What happened, some girl come between us?"

"Something like that."

"No, that's a lie." Sam said with conviction. "As big a horndog you are, you will always step aside for any girl I like and I'm pretty sure that I'd do the same."

"Sam please, trust me on this." Dean pleaded. "You really don't wanna know."

"You used to say that to me, remember?" Sam said, smiling slightly. "I must have been what five, and I used to ask you a whole lotta questions about Mom and Dad's job and you'd say, "Quit asking, Sammy. You don't wanna know". And you were right. I might have been better off not knowing. But that just wasn't me Dean. I couldn't live with not knowing then and I can't live with it now. So just tell me. I can handle it."

"No, you really can't."

"Yeah, I can." Sam said with certainty. "Besides, this distance between us, I hate it. And I'm willing to bet that it's somehow my fault. And I wanna make up for it. But I can't unless I know what it is."

"Alright, fine. I'll tell you." Dean said, throwing up his arms. "Just prepare yourself, okay. A lot of crap is headed your way."

Sam watched as Dean got up and went around to the trunk and popped it open, rummaging for something in the cooler.

"A beer? You think I need a beer to be able to handle the truth." He said as Dean took out a bottle. "Whiskey? That bad, huh?"

"You'll find out." Dean said, taking a swig himself and then handing it to Sam. "Guess I should start at the beginning."

"Skip the beginning." Sam said. "I mean, I know that the yellow-eyed demon killed Mom and Jess and it has something to do with my psychic powers."

"It begins so much before that Sam. There is so much you don't know about the past." Dean said. "Well for starters, Mom used to be a hunter."

"Mom? Our mom?" Sam's mouth fell open.

"Yeah. Shut your mouth Sam, there is more where that came from." Dean said. "Well, Mom came from a family of hunters, grew up in the life, but when she met Dad, she wanted to settle down, have kids, leave hunting behind. The last thing she wanted was to have her kids grow up in this life. How's that for irony?"

"So, what happened?"

"Yellow-eyes happened, whose real name is Azazel, by the way." Dean replied. "Mom got involved in hunt for him and he ended up killing her entire family. Then he killed Dad. Then he made a deal with Mom. In exchange for bringing Dad back to life, he got the permission to come inside our home ten years later."

"You mean, the day mom died?" Sam asked. "That's why she said she was sorry."

"Yeah, I guess." Dean continued. "Anyway, if Mom hadn't walked in on him that night, none of us would have been any wiser. What he wanted was to – feed – some of his blood to you."

"Demon blood?" Sam took a drink. "He made me drink demon blood? What does that mean? Do I still have it in my system? Does it make me demonic or something?"

"Well, yes, yes and no." Dean answered. "Your visions were because of the blood and they stopped after Yellow-eyes died. But you are human. Trust me, we all checked."

"Okay. So why? Why put demon blood in the babies?"

"His game plan, his ultimate purpose, was to release the devil and bring about the apocalypse." Dean looked as Sam face once again went expressionless. "I know, it sounds crazy. But it's true. All demons see Lucifer as their father or their god. He had been shut off in some distant corner of hell for a long time and most of them had even stopped believing that he was real. But turns out he is."

"So Lucifer's real?" Sam said, stunned. "So what does that mean? Are the other angels real too? And God?"

"Angels are real alright and they are all a bunch of dickbags." Dean saw Sam look scandalized at the very idea. He forced himself to remember that this Sam was the one who still prayed, still believed in a higher power and still thought of a loving guardian angels. "Trust me Sam, whatever you are expecting of them, they are nothing like it. They are all religious nutjobs. God has been missing from heaven. He has been gone for a long, long time and no one knows where he is. Hell, most of the angels don't even know if he exists. Well, they got tired waiting and after two thousand years of being away from earth, they decided that maybe Apocalypse wasn't such a bad idea. So when Azazel went for it, they gave him two thumbs up."

"And opening the Devil's gate that would have released Lucifer?"

"No. Too easy, I guess." Dean replied. "The devil's gate just released a bunch of demons, chief among them was Lillith."

"Lillith? I've heard that name." Sam said. "There is a ton of lore about her. Ancient cultures say that she was the first vampire or a succubus. Later she was incorporated into Christianity as Adam's first wife, the first woman created, who refused to bow to him."

"Once a geek, huh. Well, a lot of it turned out to be true." Dean explained. "She wasn't the first woman, but she sure was the first demon. Fun fact for you, demons are actually human souls that go to hell. After centuries of torture, they are turned into demons. Lillith was the queen bitch among them. She did like babies though."

"A demon liked babies?"

"Yeah, medium to rare, the way I hear it."

"Oh God." Sam said, closing his eyes.

"Exactly." Dean smirked. "Anyway, once she was out, she started breaking these sixty-six seals for releasing Lucifer. That's when the angels showed up. They told us that we were chosen. That we were the ones only ones who could stop all this from happening. Bunch of lying creeps."

"Why me Dean?" Sam said, misunderstanding what Dean had said. "Why would the whole apocalypse from the angels to Azazel would be centered around me?"

"Not you, Sam, us." Dean clarified. "The angels needed us for vessels." Dean looked at Sam's confused expression. "Meat-suits Sam. Turns out Angels can do jack without one on earth, just like demons. Only difference is, they can't possess any one willy-nilly, they need the human's permission first."

"So we were chosen to be vessels for angels?"

"Turns out, we are a part of some ancient bloodline that makes us prime cloth." Dean explained. "I guess we had that from both Mom and Dad's side. And we weren't supposed to go to just any angels. You were supposed to be Lucifer's vessel. That's why Azazel fed you demon blood."

"Lucifer? But why me? Why not you?"

"Because I was spoken for by Michael." Dean replied. "Yeah. That Michael. I guess it had something to do with symbolic symmetry, two brothers who loved each-other, killing each-other in battle."

"Dean, tell me we stopped it." Sam begged. "Tell me we killed Lillith before that."

"Oh, you killed her alright." Dean said. "You killed Lillith. But as it turned out, that had been her plan all along. Lillith was the final seal to Lucifer's cage. Once she died, Lucifer got free."

"Jesus!" Sam exclaimed, getting off the car and drinking half the bottle in one go. "You are telling me that I freed Lucifer, that I let Satan loose in the world."

"Sam, you didn't know." Dean said, after his brother had calmed down a little. "Everybody was manipulating us. Even I thought that killing Lillith was the right thing."

"That doesn't make it alright, Dean." Sam replied. "So what happened next?"

"Like I said, the Apocalypse couldn't actually happen till we said yes to our respective angels." Dean explained. "Lucifer kind of found a replacement right away, while Michael kept waiting. Man, that was a bad year. A really bad year, Sam. We were on the run from demons and angels and most of the hunters as well, since they thought that we brought about the Apocalypse. I almost gave up a few times. We died a bunch of times, both of us, but the angels just kept bringing us back. Really Sam, you should count yourself lucky not to remember all of it."

"So how did we stop it?" Sam asked. "How did we ice the devil? We use the colt?"

"We tried. We lost Ellen and Jo in that little mission. And then we found out that the colt doesn't even work on Lucifer." Dean noticed how Sam's face fell at the news about Ellen and Jo. "Like a said Sam, really bad year. But in the end, we found a way. You know how they talk about the four horsemen of apocalypse?"

"Yeah."

"Well, they turned up as well. One by one." Dean continued. "They had these rings which were the source of their power and we beat them and got the rings. Well, all but Death. That one didn't want to work for Lucifer and gladly gave up the ring along with the instruction manual."

"Manual to what?"

"To trapping the devil back in the cage." Dean replied. "Those rings could open a portal to the place where the devil was trapped. We decided to use that to throw him back."

"And the angels just let that happen?"

"Not really. Michael had found a substitute by then as well. But our bid was that you'd say yeas to Lucifer and then take control of your body and jump into the pit. You know, like Dad had taken control of the Yellow-eyes."

"Dean, there is no way I could have done something like that."Sam laughed. "This is the devil and I'm not Dad."

"But you did, Sam." Dean replied."You took charge once he was in there and you jumped into the pit. Michael tried stopping you and you took him with you."

"I went to hell?" Sam asked. "That doesn't make any sense, Dean, I'm here. I'm alive."

"Yeah, a demon got you out." Dean replied."That was the new king of hell. He got the mojo to pull you out and he tried to use you for his own agenda. I don't know why he picked you, I really don't, but it's over now. We beat him and you are free from heaven and hell and everything."

"So that's it?"Sam asked, pondering over the details. "That's all that has happened in past five years."

"It's a lot, don't you think?"

"Yeah it is." Sam agreed. "So who the hell is Castiel?"

"He's an angel. Kind of the only non-dick among them." Dean replied. "He was ordered to watch over us while Lillith broke the seals, make sure that we were primed and ready to say yes when it all started, but I guess we rubbed off on him. In the end he sided with us and helped us a lot, trying to stop the apocalypse. Now, he is the new sheriff in heaven."

"I've never even heard his name." Sam said. "What happened to the other big ones, you know, like Uriel, Gabriel or Raphael."

"All dead." Dean replied. "Uriel was never a big shot to begin with and he was killed off once he turned against his own kind. Raphael survived the Apocalypse and then tried to bring it all back by starting a civil war in heaven. Thank God that is over now. Gabriel – well funny story there – Gabriel wasn't in heaven to begin with. He had gotten tired of everyone fighting ages ago, so he left heaven, came to earth and pretended to be the pagan God Loki. We know him as the trickster."

"The Trickster? You mean the one we killed?"

"Yeah, except he didn't die. He came back a bunch of times." Dean said. "He finally died fighting Lucifer. Actually, he was the one who told us about the rings. And that covers everything."

"Okay." Sam said, thinking everything over in his head. "If you say so."

"Really Sam, everything I've told you is the truth."

"I know that." Sam replied. "But I also know that it's not the whole truth. All this wouldn't make us like this Dean. If this was all that happened, we would be having the time of our lives. We stopped the end of the world, Dean, we should be celebrating. No, something big happened between us. I did something really bad, I know it. And it wasn't just releasing Lucifer. I did something bad to you and you are not telling me about it because you don't want me to feel guilty. And knowing you, by now you have told everyone we know to keep it a secret. But you know what, it doesn't matter. I'm getting my memories back and I'll know what it is then."

"Sam, please, I'm begging you. Don't try to get them back."

"Why?"

"Why? Sam, you think that hell was a picnic for you?" Dean shouted. "You were in hell for, like, two years, with two of the most powerful beings torturing you non-stop. You were messed up because of that. Why would you even want to remember all of that?"

"I can handle it Dean."

"Could you, for once, not be so self-centered all the time?"

"Huh?"

"It's always all about you, isn't?" Dean voice kept going higher. "You revenge, your destiny, your redemption fro freeing Lucifer, your time in hell. Do you have any idea what that does to me? I'm the one who has to deal with the fallout. I'm the one who has to watch you through the nightmares and the drinking and the suffering. Excuse me for thinking that this might just be the best thing that has happened to us."

"It was really that bad?" Sam said in a quiet voice.

"Worse Sam. Worse than you could ever imagine." Dean replied. "You couldn't even talk about your time there."

'Okay. I'm gonna trust you on that." Sam agreed. "If you say so, I won't try to get my memories back, I promise."

"Really?"

"Yeas really. Dean I trust your judgment." Sam saw that Dean had continued regarding him with suspicion. "I'm not lying, man. Why would I lie to you? You are my brother. You are all that I have left."

Dean's face now showed guarded acceptance of Sam's promise, but Sam knew that his brother was still suspicious. That this brother didn't trust him to keep his promise. Sam promised himself then and there that though he wouldn't try to regain his memories, he would try to find out the reason why Dean didn't trust him and he would make it alright even if it was the last thing he did.

Bobby had taken the new development very well. He had accepted Sam's decision not to try and get his memories back with a shrug and a 'guess that's the smart thing to do'. He and Dean seemed on better terms than before, once Bobby apologized for losing his cool and Sam had later left them alone to get some food. He had no idea what they'd talked about in his absence, though he was sure it had something to do with him and he hadn't tried to pry or eavesdrop. Nevertheless, both of them seemed to be in better spirits once they left the salvage yard and Dean promised to visit again soon.

Dean had filled him in a bit more about the new developments in the supernatural world, about the existence of Alphas and monsters acting outside pattern and since the next lead they were following was more than three hundred miles away, they'd stopped at a motel on the road for a night.

Next morning, Sam had woken up feeling much refreshed, God bless for a few nights free from nightmares. He had tried scrolling through his phone for any new contacts who might fill him in a bit more about the past, but Dean had gotten to it before him and wiped his list clean. He looked over at the bathroom door, making sure that Dean was still a long way from coming out and tried to find something that might tell him what happened between them on the internet. That was proving to be useless. All he had discovered so far was that both of them were supposed to be dead, killed in a blast at the police station.

"Hello Sam. How are you doing this fine morning?" A voice startled him, making him whirl around.

A trench-coat wearing man with messy hair had appeared out of thin air inside their motel room and though he made no threatening gestures, Sam's hunter instincts kicked in and he pulled out a gun in a fluid motion and shot him. The bullet didn't even make him flinch, though he did look surprised and regarded the wound curiously.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean said, rushing out of the bathroom, desperately clutching a towel around his waist, his hair still covered in shampoo. "Sam, out the gun down. He's a friend."

"He just popped out of nowhere." Sam replied, without taking his eye of the target. He wasn't going to let a demon possessing a friend get them.

"Yeah, he does that." Dean explained. "Sam, he's Castiel. The angel I told you about."

"Oh. Oh my God." Sam said as realization of his actions dawned on him. He immediately lowered the gun. "I just shot an angel."

Castiel had continued looking at the wound through the conversation and was now looking at each of them in turn.

"You shot me." Castiel said, confused. "He just shot me. Why would you shoot me Sam? Have I offended you in some way?"

"No, Cas. It's fine. Sam has just lost his memories." Dean explained. "We were against a witch that was taking people's memories and Sam got the short end of the stick."

"Oh. That makes sense." Castiel said, looking satisfied. It didn't make sense, atleast not to a normal person. Such was their life, Sam though, finally putting away the gun and looking towards his brother to exchange a knowing smile. But the sight of Dean cut him short.

"What the hell?" Sam hadn't seen his brother without a shirt since he'd lost his memories and now he could see that his body was covered in bruises, the most recent appearing to be only a few days old. And he himself didn't have any. Was there actually some weight behind Bobby's words when he'd said that Dean was losing his touch? And there was this weird scar on his shoulder shaped almost like a - ."Is that a handprint?"

"Are you referring to the mark that I left when I resurrected Dean?" Castiel asked, following Sam's gaze.

"Yeah, Sam, that's it. It's just a little souvenir Cas left me when he brought me back from dead." Dean explained. That's right, Sam thought, according to Dean they'd died a bunch of times during the apocalypse and were brought back. Did that mean - .

"Do I have a handprint on me somewhere?" Sam asked. He hadn't noticed anything. "Is it on my ass?"

"Sam, I have never raised you from - ."

"He means no, he has never touched your ass." Dean interrupted Castiel. "You don't have one Sam. Now if you two don't mind, I'd like to finish my shower. Ca I trust you not to shoot each-other while I'm in there?"

Sam nodded while Castiel started. "I do not shoot people, Dean . As an angel - ", but Dean had already closed the door behind him.

Sam was now acutely aware of the fact that he was alone in the room with an angel of the lord and as casually Dean had seemed to treat that, Sam couldn't muster the same level of comfort. Especially since Castiel was giving him this extremely pointed look.

"Oh God, I haven't even asked you to sit down. Sit sown, please."Sam stuttered. "Shit, I'm not supposed to say His name in vain in front of you, right? Crap, I'm not supposed to curse either? Crap, I mean, gaah."

"Goddammit it all to hell." Castiel said casually, sitting down on one of the beds.

That did ease up Sam a bit. He smiled back at Castiel and took his seat on the other bed.

"Cas – uh may I call you Cas?" Sam waited for the angel to assent. "Cas, uh, what can you tell me about the past. I mean the last five years."

"Hasn't Dean told you anything?" Castiel asked with what seemed to be his signature head-tilt.

"He gave me the general overview." Sam replied. "But I'm looking for specifics. Specifically, something I did to hurt Dean, to offend him."

"Well, you let Lucifer out of his cage." Castiel replied."That was pretty offensive. Though not as offensive as shooting someone, but I guess that is a matter of perspective."

"No, I mean, to Dean." Sam explained. "Like, have I done something to hurt him specifically?"

"I'm sorry." Castiel said, fidgeting. "Dean is praying in the bathroom that I won't talk to you about the past, so unless I know more, I'm going to stay quiet on the subject."

Damn Dean. Trust him to screw up his chance of finding the truth. Sam fidgeted in his chair for a few more minutes until Dean came out after finishing his shower.

"So, Cas, what brings you here?" Dean said, toweling his head dry.

"Nothing." Castiel replied. "I was in the vicinity after taking care of some demons who had gotten their hands on one of heaven's weapons."

"Vicinity? Where? I haven't heard anything."

"Alaska." Cas explained.

Sam hadn't taken his eyes off his brother the whole time. Partly because he didn't want to meet the angel's intense gaze and partly because he was still worried about the bruises Dean was sporting. Dean was wearing a t-shirt now, but some of them still peeked over the collar.

"So, what happened to the demons?" Dean asked, perfectly capable of carrying out the conversation without Sam's help.

"I did." Castiel replied.

Sam didn't know if it was the inflection in Castiel's voice or his worry about Dean's injuries, but those words jogged a memory in him. Suddenly he could remember Dean, beaten badly into unconsciousness and Castiel carrying him in a Fireman's carry.

"What the hell happened to him?"

"I did."

Instantly Sam forgot everything about the other man being an angel and trained his gun on him once more.

"What the hell did you do to him?" He shouted. "Did you hurt him?"

"What, Sam, No. Castiel hasn't hurt me." Dean said.

"Dean, I can remember something, okay." Sam explained. "I remember him beating you up. I didn't see it happen but I know it did."

"I believe Sam is talking about the time we had you in the panic room." Castiel explained.

"What? Sam that's okay. That was years ago." Dean said, "It was during the apocalypse. I deserved it, okay."

"Why?" Sam asked, without taking his gun off Cas. "What did you do that was so bad that you deserved being beaten half to death?"

"I was about to say yes to Michael." Dean replied.

"That's not good enough." Came Sam's immediate answer. "Even if you did, in a moment of weakness, decide to say yes to Michael, that is not a reason to beat the tar out of you. You are human Dean, you are allowed to make mistakes. I don't imagine that he kicked the crap out of me for letting Lucifer out, did he? Did he?" Both Dean and Castiel looked away. "Didn't think so. You come near my brother again and I'll rip your wings off."

"You are in no position to judge me, Sam." Castiel stated.

"Cas." Dean said in a warning tone.

"What? What is it?" Sam aske, looking towards Dean. "What the hell did I do that was so terrible that you can't tell me and at the same time it's affecting all of my life. Dean, just tell me okay. I can – Oh, I see."

Sam finished as Castiel suddenly stood before him with his fingers to his forehead. All of a sudden, Sam remembered everything. It wasn't like one would expect. There was no torrential rush of memories that swept him off his feet. It was more like trying to remember a word or a mathematical formula or some obscure historical detail. One moment he didn't know anything, the next, all his questions were answered.

"Cas. What the hell?" Dean shouted, coming between them and pushing the angel away from Sam.

"I'm sorry. I thought you wanted Sam to have his memories back." Castiel said. "Was I wrong in the assumption?"

Dean continued glaring daggers at him. "What the hell are you doing here in the first place?"

"I – uh – came looking for a beer." Castiel explained lamely. "I thought I would enjoy one in your company. But I see now that this is not a good time."

Before Dean could reply with a cutting remark, Castiel disappeared, leaving the brothers alone with each-other.

"You lied to me." Sam said looking Dean squarely in the face.

"Everything I told you was the truth." Dean replied.

"You didn't tell me everything, Dean. That's lying by omission." Sam countered. "You didn't tell me that you went to hell for me. You didn't tell me about the demon-blood or Ruby. You didn't tell me about all the secrets and the lies. You didn't tell me how I betrayed you and kicked the crap out of you in the hotel room."

"Sam - "

"And you didn't tell me about the whole soulless phase. You didn't tell what I put you through when I had just come back. You didn't tell me about keeping it a secret for a year. Besides, you did lie to me. You said that the dent on the Impala was from a fender-bender." Sam raised his hand and ignoring Dean's flinch, gently rubbed the bruise peaking out on his neck. "You didn't tell me it was from when I slammed you against it after you suggested that we quit hunting. You didn't tell me that the bruises on your body were from when I started kicking you afterwards. You didn't tell me that those on your neck were from when I started throttling you. You didn't tell me any of that."

"Sam – please."

"You don't call me Sammy anymore." Sam said, wistfully. "I didn't notice it. Castiel was right. I am in no position to judge him. But you just left out everything bad I've ever done to you."

"Sam – Sammy – please. Don't do this to yourself."

"You were right, Dean. I didn't wanna know. I really don't. But I guess I have to. Forgetting about it doesn't erase the past."

When Dean woke up in the middle of the night the same day, he found Sam sitting on the motel chair with a glass of whiskey in his hand, regarding him quietly. Once again he silently cursed the well-meaning angel who had restored his brother's terrible memories.

"Time for your nightcap, Sam?" Dean asked, stretching and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"No, just couldn't sleep. Don't worry." Sam added as he saw Dean look concerned. "I still have my soul. Though that might not be such a good thing. It would be easier to put a bullet in me if I didn't."

"You are drunk." Dean stated.

"No, I'm not. Not nearly enough." Sam replied. "Really, this is just my second glass. I'm just – I think I'm having a mid-life crisis."

"You are too young to be having one."

"Really? Because since we don't know a single hunter above sixty, I'd say that this was the right time." Sam replied. "Besides, it's not exactly a mid-life crisis, I'm not re-evaluating my life-choices, just the ones I made with you."

"Is this about what you said to me in the car?" Dean asked. "About me not loving you anymore?"

"I thought you didn't hear that." Sam replied and got a shrug in return. "Well, kind of. I know you love me Dean. You wouldn't stick around otherwise. But I also know that I don't deserve it. Not after everything I've put you through."

"Sam - ."

"Jeez, you're pathetic, you know that." Sam cut him off. "Anyone else would have put a bullet between my eyes after everything I've done."

"You didn't do anything Sam." Dean defended. "It wasn't you. You didn't have your soul."

"Would you just stop giving excuses for me?" Sam shouted, suddenly enraged and Dean unconsciously drew back a little. "You always have an excuse for me, don't you? Sam, you just wanted your own life. You just did what you thought was for the best. You were high on demon blood. You didn't have your soul. You just came back from hell. Why won't you just give me what I deserve and torture me to death?"

"I'm just trying to be here for you." Dean said, resolutely.

"Why? I wasn't there for you when you came back from hell." Sam replied. "I wasn't there to deal with your nightmares because I was too busy sneaking off with Ruby. I forced you to deal with your time in hell before you were ready. Why the hell are you letting me deal with this on my own terms?"

"Sam your term in hell - ."

"Dean, I swear to God that if you say that my time was way worse than you one more time, I'll lay you out." Sam replied. "You know what I thought the best thing about being down there was? That Adam wasn't there. I was thankful for that, because I knew that if he had been, they would have made me torture him and I would have. I wouldn't have held on for thirty years. That was the only thing holding me together, that atleast if I ever made it out of there, I wouldn't have anything to feel guilty about like you did. Who knew that I was doing terrible things up here all that time."

"That wasn't - "

"That was me. You not believing it doesn't make it so." Sam continued. "Those were my actions, my choices and you can't take those away from me."

"What do you expect me to do here?" Dean asked, sadly.

"I expect you do give me what I deserve." Sam replied. "I expect you to give me what I deserve. I expect you to beat the crap out of me for letting you turn into a vampire. I expect you to hate me for leaving you behind again, when all you were trying to do was to put me back together again. I expect you to walk away and never look back and let me suffer and implode and then I want you to think that I got exactly what I deserved. I want you stop caring so damn much."

"I can't do that." Came the soft reply.

"Why not? Haven't I given you enough reasons for that?" Sam asked, walking over to Dean and pulling down his shirt collar. "This is what I did to you while I had my soul. And this wasn't the first time either. Remember me almost killing you for Ruby. For God's sake, just grow a pair."

"That's enough." Dean said, knocking away Sam's hand. "You want to have your self-pity party, go ahead, but don't drag me into it. You can beat me up all you want, I'm not leaving you. Do you realize how incredibly lucky we got here? How lucky we are that you are not a paralyzed, catatonic, drooling mess? Yes, you are majorly screwed up from hell, but I know what that is like and you need my help dealing with it. So you are getting it, whether you like it or not."

Sam's eyes met Dean's briefly before Sam took another long drink from the glass in his hand.

"You know, these past few days have been a revelation." Sam said. "You are not as great a brother as you used to be. I mean, you don't love me as much. And that's completely my fault. Everything I did, it has little by little chipped it away."

"I'm trying." Dean replied. "I'm trying so hard."

"But you can't just forgive it all, can you?" Sam said back. "The hurts go too deep. And I'm glad that you can't. Guess there is some hope for you after all."

"Hope for what?"

"Dean, I'm the poison in your life." Sam said, completely changing the subject. "Little by little I've taken away everything you cared about. I took your childhood, I took your chance at normal, I took away Lisa and Ben and now I'm taking away the memory of the little brother you loved so much and mutilating it. Why would you stand for it?"

"There you go again." Dean said. "What should I do Sam? Should I just leave you here to hunt on your own? You'll dead your first time out. And you know that I couldn't live with that."

"I'm the reason why the hunts have been going so badly, aren't I?" Sam asked. "You have been covering for me?"

"Yeah." Dean answered, looking away.

"What have you been doing for me?" Sam asked again. "Tell me."

"Sam, hunting's all you have got." Dean replied. "You told me that if you don't hunt you'll go crazy just sitting around. Well, I let you do all the research, but you can't do it like you used to anymore. You just go into these kinds of trances mid-way and miss important facts. I try to double-check everything, but that's not always possible."

"What else?"

"Uh – sometimes you freeze mid-hunt." Dean continued. "That kind of sucks when the bastards are coming right at you. Then other times you go completely psycho. Start yelling and shooting everything in sight. I have to get you under control then and we've let quite a few things get away because of that."

"Jesus." Sam exclaimed. "What else Dean?"

"You can't interview witnesses anymore, ever since you went psycho on that one lady, screaming that she didn't know real suffering." Dean said. "And then there are your phases."

"What phases?"

"You go into these catatonic phase from time to time. You just don't communicate for days sometimes. You eat, sleep, go to bathroom like you are supposed to but otherwise it's like you are not even in your head. And you always wake up knowing everything that's going on and you have no idea something was wrong. And then there are your rages."

"What's that?"

"The last time it happened was when I suggested that we take a break from hunting." Dean replied. "You just kind of lost it."

"Jesus, Dean, what the hell were you thinking?" Sam asked. "I'm not fit for hunting right now. You should just stick me in a mental hospital and get away from me."

"Yeah? You think the doctors can help you with this?" Dean said. "I've been through this Sam, they can't do anything to make what happened to you any better."

"What happened to me, huh?" Sam said, unconsciously gripping his glass tighter. "You don't know what happened to me Dean, because I haven't told you. You think Alastair was bad, you try being stuck with two arch-angels who can do so much more than hacking and slashing you. Who can – who can - "

A sudden sound of breaking glass filled the room and both brothers looked down at Sam's hand, now bloody and clutching at the broken remnants of his Whiskey container.

"Not again." Dean said, as he got the tweezers out of the first aid kit that was now permanently placed beside their bed. Sam just continued staring at his hand.

"C'mon gimme." Dean said, gently opening up Sam's palm and pulling out a shard of glass from it.

"Jesus." Sam shouted at the sudden pain and lashed out, his clenched fist catching Dean squarely on the jaw. He raised his fist to strike Dean again, but a trickle of blood coming from Dean's lower lip stopped him. Dean's whole posture had gone stiff, telling him Dean had expected the hit yet had done nothing to defend himself. Looking down, Sam saw that both of Dean's hands were holding his injured palm open, preventing it from curling into a fist, lest he dig the shards any deeper.

"Dean, I'm sorry." Sam said, realizing with horror what he had done.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not." Sam said. "I don't know what came over me Dean. I'm sorry, it won't happen again." Dimly, he realized he had said that the last time as well as every time before that.

"Yeah, I know it won't." Dean replied. He had said the same thing every time as well.

With a painful yell, Sam snatched his hand away from Dean and curling both of them into fists, started punching the motel walls. However, before he had even broken the skin on his knuckles, Dean grabbed him from behind and pinned him to the bed with the ease and efficiency that Sam could not match in his frenzied state.

"What the hell are you doing, Sam?" Dean yelled. "You think breaking your fists is a good idea?"

"Better than breaking your face." Sam yelled back.

"I'm not gonna break so easily." Dean said quietly and Sam broke down against his brother as the full meaning of those words sunk in.

Dean was used to it by now, Sam going from raging to emotional within seconds. But he still felt uncomfortable comforting his brother. Like Sam had said, some hurts went too deep.

"I don't want to be like this Dean." Sam cried against him. "I don't want you to leave me. I can't live without you."

"I'm not going anywhere Sam."

"You should. I told you that you should. But I don't want you to. I need you with me." Sam continued crying. "I'm gonna do better from now on. I promise, I'll be a better brother."

"I know you will." Dean replied, but it was clear from his voice that he put no stock in those words.

"I mean it Dean. This tome I do." Sam said, wiping his eyes and getting somber once again. "Remember what I was talking about before? About me having a mid-life crisis and the memory thing being a revelation?"

"Yeah." Dean answered, cautiously.

"Well, what I really meant was, I miss the way we used to be. It has been so long since we were like that, that I didn't even realize that that's what I was missing all the time." Sam continued. "I've been trying so hard to be free from your shadow all this time, trying to be my own man, that I didn't realize that having you didn't make me any weaker or less of my own man, it made me stronger. I lost sight of that and now it maybe lost forever. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't try to get it back. So, just let me say what I want to say."

"Okay?"

"First of all, I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for leaving you over and over again, for hurting you like that when you have done nothing but care about me."

Dean just nodded.

"I'm also sorry for everytime I thought you were weak or stupid for caring too much about me or Dad or following his orders. I'm not as good a brother or as good a son as you are, so I can never fully appreciate everything you have done for us, but I'm going to try."

"Okay."

"I'm also sorry for putting you through my death. And I'm sorry for not telling you when I first came back. I know first-hand what your brother going to hell does to you and I'm sorry for putting you through that."

"Sam, enough okay, I get the general idea." Dean interrupted. "I get that you are sorry for everything you think you did wrong and you will try to do better. Can we just leave it at that? Truth is Sam, you being my little brother means more to me than anything else. And though you may not realize it now, but you have given me a lot over the years. Things that no one else could give me. So don't go around saying that you don't deserve my love, because you do. Can we just stop this now, I don't think I can handle much more emotional drama."

"Okay, alright." Sam replied. "One last thing Dean. I'm putting you in charge of me from now on. God knows I'm not sane enough to make decisions about what's best for me, so I'm letting you decide. You say that we should quit hunting, we'll quit hunting. You say that I should talk about hell, I will. You tell me to see a shrink, I will. Anything you say goes."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and in this one moment of sanity, I give you full permission to force your will upon me whenever you want."

"Okay." Dean said, considering Sam's words. "Okay then. So, here's what we'll do. We'll give up hunting for now, we'll go to Dad's old cabin and have a nice long rest."

Sam nodded in agreement.

"We are not giving up hunting forever, though." Dean added. "I don't think I'd be able to stand that. But we are out atleast till you can talk about hell. And you are a bit better all around. That good with you?"

"Yeah." Sam agreed quietly. "That sounds good."

"That's that, then." Dean finished. "Let's go to sleep after I fix your hand. We head out tomorrow. And Sam." Dean added as Sam held his hand out. "You are sleeping with me tonight. Let's see if there is enough big-brother left in me to keep away the nightmares."

There wasn't and they both knew it. Sam's nightmares were too deeply rooted in his subconscious. Nevertheless, Sam appreciated that gesture for what it was. The starting point for them to rebuild their relationship.

Whew. Alright, now that is officially the longest thing I've ever written. I wasn't going to make Sam like that in the beginning, but what everyone said in the last episode made sense. There is no way Sam would be alright after coming back. I tried to show him as screwed up as possible while still being functional as I could. Tell me what y'all think.