"Dean Did It and He Should Feel Way Guilty About It!"

Mystic 25

Summary: Parody Fic time again people. Part Deux! A conglomerate about every "HurtSam! SnottyCryingForlornEXTRA Guilty Dean!" fics

A/N: Okay I have had the week from hell recently, and I need something I can just laugh at.

A/N #2: If you take offense to the idea of parody about fics you might have actually written, I invite you to leave at any time…if not, then I'm sorry, I really, really am.

xxxxxXxxxx

"You are way stupid Sam!" Dean shouted like a derailing train about to careen into another derailing train. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Sam shrank at Dean's thunderous tenor, bright red toothbrush poised, on the way to his mouth, but stopping and just sitting there midway. His lower lip wavered, quivered and wavered some more. "Dean-" His 6'4" frame folded in on itself like a soggy stack of playing cards left out in a bitter, bitter rainstorm with lots of thunder.

Dean's nostrils flared like any angry bull. He pawed at the ground hostily. "Don't you dare, don't you dare Sam!"

"I was only trying to help Dean!" Sam screamed, hurting his own ears since he and Dean were only standing about five feet apart from each other.

Dean whirled on him, then whirled again because he had already been facing him. "Did I ask for your help?"

"No," Sam's voice had a timid timbre . He stared with deeply laden guilt at a neatly made bed of his brother right behind him. Each sharply tucked in corner of the comforter slicing through his guilt ridden psyche like rusted knives. "Dean I'm sorry-"

"Having an unmade bed is a Winchester's pride Sam!" Dean bellowed, running both hands through his hair in agitation, then running them through again, pulling out strands and throwing them at his brother, hostily. "This isn't Namby Pamby Land where beds are made and showers are taken!"

"I'm sorry," Sam's shoulders started to shake like two huge mountains with a head in the middle, so like Mt. Rushmore – and he was George Washington. "Dean I'm so s-orry," Sam stuttered like a child, a crying snotty, snotty child. "I thought that after a killing that ghost-demon hybrid and breaking your face on that brick wall you weren't up to making the bed. Please don't be mad at me-"

"It's too late Sam!" Dean roared like a lion, his broken facial bones wailing like a discordant xylophone. He watched as Sam winced, not from the scream, but because he had not once called him Sammy.

It had been Severed.

"It's too late for everything!" Dean paraded to the bathroom door in a grandiose way, slamming it so hard that it shook the ratty little hotel to its foundations.

Sam stood there, tiny heart beating, tears leaking like overflowing rivers down his ashen cheeks. He didn't even know his cheeks had become ashen, was he becoming a lonely ghost? Was he destined to walk the world alone now as that lonely ghost?

He walked out of the hotel, quiet as a church mouse, an utterly lonely ghost of a church mouse who's big brother wanted to eat him.

The alleyway behind the hotel was scary, it smelled like pee and bad apple juice, or maybe it was all just pee.

Either way, Sam sank onto a nasty pee smelling crate, tucking his long, slender, muscular yet fragile frame into a tiny ball and let his tears fall.

No one would come for him now.

He will die out here

And do nothing about it

Because he made beds

And he was a horrible person

Dean had told him

And Sam didn't know how to do any thinking for himself

Plus he was way scared.

xxxxXxxxx

It had been minutes since Sam left.

Not that Dean was paying attention, he wasn't. The clock with the red display as bright as Day Glo spray paint just happened to be right next the particular wall he chose to look at.

He had unmade the bed, but somehow it wasn't the same. He could still feel the Madeness of it.

Damnit, why couldn't Sam just understand? He raised him better than that.

Damn stubborn ass hole kid of his. Dean thought loudly to himself, even though something niggled at him that that idea was kind of disgusting since they were both only 4 years apart, and he could still be a big brother without trying to be a weirdo. Damn stubborn ass hole kid of mine. Dean thought it anyway.

Why does he do this? Dean thought again, Why does he make me feel? And why aren't my thoughts in italics like in the previous paragraphs?

Wait, it's fixed now.

God I was such an asshole! I have no right to get mad at ANYTHING Sam does! Even when he shot me in the foot on purpose last night at laughed at it, he was just trying to help me flex my bones, and I –oh sweet merciful Cas! I scared Sammy to death! He's too weak to do anything but cry apparently. What was I thinking! "I gotta find him!" Wait, did I say that last part or just think it?

"I'm a coming Sammy!" Dean ran out the door.

He had a little brother to save, and a whole lot of humble pie to eat.

xxxxXxxxx

The incessant drip, drip of the dirty water sliding off the roof above Sam felt like God's tears.

Gods tears and Sam's tears intermingled, and he blew his nose on a passing rat and waited for death.

Death or sleep, whichever came first naturally.

"Sam? SAM!"

Where was he? Where was his brother? Sam wanted his brother, he also wanted a shower and a drink, and sex with something other than a monster, because seriously?

But right now he wanted Dean- Dean had to save him, if he was tucked any tighter he'd be in a bow, and it was starting to happen, he didn't want to be a bow, he wanted to be a Sammy with a Dean.

But Dean hated him.

"Sammy! Oh thank Gods!"

No, Dean didn't care about him, this was a trick of the light, Satan or even worse a shapeshifter who looked like Satan that Sam was going to call: "Bob."

"Sammy, look at me my darling."

Oh god, Bob was angry with him!

But he deserved it. He was a no count horrible bad brother of a human being. "Nuuu-NUUUUUUUUUUUU!" He flailed like a flapjack screaming to get out of a frying pain.

"Sweet Sammy, it's me, it's me kiddo, buddy, buckaroo!" Dean tried to hold Sam's jack knifing arms down to keep him from hurting himself. But all it got him was two punches in the face. Two punches in the face that he deserved.

He failed.

He failed Big Brother.

He was going back to Hell.

Please don't eat me Bob! Sam thought, and since he was taller, but younger his thoughts weren't in italics. I don't want it, I'm so overwrought don't even want to articulate words anymore! "NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"

He felt Bob rock him and wished that it was Dean.

Wished and wished and WISHED…

And above him Dean was wishing to be a Better Big Brother who didn't suck so much ass half his body was up in somebody's anus. But it wasn't true.

He just had to wish…

and wipe snot off the rat…

and wish some more.

Because he did things that he should feel way guilty about, way guilty with extra bacon on top.

And that was about it.

xxxxXxxx

End.

If it doesn't really make sense…it wasn't supposed too. Just my take on too many fics I've read where Sam runs over Dean in a car say, and Dean is made to feel it's his fault. Or even if Sam does something he doesn't deserve Dean's wrath from, he just gets so childlike and just waits for death…

Review please.

But I ask please don't come on with rants about how Dean is better than Sam and Sam is too whinny, etc. Neither one is true. I am a fan of both boys, and this was just my way to express it in humor:)

peace,

mystic