*~"Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you!" Dean stated firmly. "It has never been like that, ever!"~*

Sam woke up bewildered by his dream. That was a memory, he thought. Dean stopping me from closing the gates of Hell. Why on earth would I be dreaming about that? Sam lifted himself out of bed and began getting dressed. He quickly brushed his hair and headed out into the kitchen. I guess Dean is still sleeping. Sam started making a pot of coffee and then headed over to the table. He took a seat and began looking through his laptop for any possible cases. Hmm, I can't concentrate. That dream reminded me of my many failures. I was prepared to die for those trials, just as I had been when I trapped Lucifer. But…that look on his face, Dean's face, was torture. I couldn't go through with it knowing the pain it would cause him. Even afterwards when I was in a coma, and about to let Death take me, Dean showed up and stopped me from sacrificing myself. I don't blame him, it was my choice to fight on…for him. This needs to stop happening, I can't keep worrying about the past. And I definitely need to stop thinking about how my brother's face looked when he said those words. Like he had ripped his heart out and tossed it at me. Like he couldn't go on without me there by his side. Like he….loved me. Sam groaned and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Not enough sleep?" Dean's voice made Sam jump.

"No, I… uh…was just thinking," Sam stuttered, hastily. "I just made the coffee," he said, in an attempt to change the subject. Oh gosh, I hope my face isn't red. He surprised me.

"Awesome," Dean replied as he made his way over to the pot. He came back over to the table with two mugs, handing one to his little brother. Sam seems off this morning, Dean thought. Maybe he's getting tired of looking for another case. He should just take it easy or stress is going to kill him.

Sam suddenly stood up and said, "I'm going to look over some lore in my room. I can't find a case and I'm feeling restless." He quickly grabbed his mug from the table and started heading for the hallway.

"Ha, sure. You know, masturbating doesn't count as research."

"Wha- Dean! That is not what I…just…shut up, jerk," Sam scoffed, face turning red. He started walking briskly towards his room.

Just as Sam left his view Dean yelled, "Bitch!" He started laughing to himself, satisfied that he embarrassed his brother. Sammy turned so red! He gets worked up about everything. I like embarrassing him as much as I like making him laugh. And man, does he have a great laugh. Hearing it always manages to make my day, especially if I was the cause. Dean's mouth curled up into a huge smile. And then his eyes always light up when- Oh shit, what am I thinking? His smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. Knock it off, think of something else…DAMMIT! I need to find something to do. Dean grabbed the laptop from across the table and decided to search for a case. Anything to keep my mind away from those thoughts.

Sam was sitting on his bed with a book about Chinese deities in his lap. He opened it up to a random page and spaced out. I'm so messed up. Why do I keep having these feelings? I've been with plenty of women, I like women. In fact, I've never been attracted to a man…other than…him...There is something seriously wrong with me, he's my brother. He buried his face in his hands and groaned. Then he looked at the page he had opened to. "Tu'er Shen," he began reading aloud, "the Chinese deity who safeguards homo-" His eyes went wide and he slammed the book shut. Seriously?! A God whose sole purpose is to protect homosexuals, and with my luck I opened to that page. He felt like he was going into a hysteria. Setting the book aside, Sam decided he was going to go out for some food. Anything to distract him from his own thoughts.

Meanwhile, Dean was having no luck in finding a case. He had already downed his second cup of coffee and was getting tired of the pointless search. Well, this blows. Now what should I do?

"Dean, I'm going to grab some food quick," Sam stated as he emerged from the hallway.

"Alright, pick me up the usual," he replied with a dismissive tone as he tossed Sam the car keys.

"Got it." Sam headed towards the bunker's exit as fast as he could without running.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam's failure to be subtle. What is he in a hurry for? Dean pondered.

Sam ran for the car as soon as he was outside. That dream made today awkward…actually no... my own mind is the real problem. That dream was just a memory, but I turned it into something awkward. I let my unhinged thoughts run for far too long when I woke up. He started up the Impala and drove in the direction of the nearest restaurant, needing to put distance between him and Dean.

Back inside the bunker, Dean was spacing out. I wonder why Sam was in such a rush. Something really seems off about him today. He has been avoiding me, even before my joke about him masturbating. And what was with him stuttering when I woke up? That is not like Sammy… He said he was thinking, but now I can't help wondering what he was thinking about. Obviously whatever it was, it got him flustered. Why is it any of my business what does and doesn't make him flustered?! Groaning, Dean decided to look for music online in order to escape his thoughts. He found a radio-hosted website that was currently playing classic rock. As soon as he opened the website, the speakers started playing the end of Eye of the Tiger. Damn, I just missed out on an awesome song.

The Dj's voice came on, "Alright folks, we are going to slow things down with Queen's 'Too Much Love Will Kill You.'" As the ballad started, Dean reached to change it but then stopped himself.

Sam isn't here, so I don't have to hide my guilty pleasure for ballads. Hell, I might as well enjoy them while he's out. He turned the volume up and began singing, "I'm just the pieces of the man I used to be…Too many bitter tears are raining down on me…" Dean stood up and started pouring emotion into his singing, holding his cell phone up to his mouth like a microphone.