Summary: This is a little something I started right after season two ended...when the new season started up, I wasn't sure where it fit in, but I am starting to get a feel for it now...hope you enjoy...there will be spoilers, and all episodes are open to reference. Please tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own or operate anything I write about here...just renting. These characters were created by people more clever than I...

Sam sat in the Impala's passenger seat as it rumbled through the darkness guided by the steady hand of his brother. He glanced over at Dean and noticed that the wound over his eye was still bleeding slightly. This didn't seem to concern the older man though as he leaned over to turn up the Metallica song that had just come on the radio.

Even bruised and bleeding, Dean looked so relaxed, so at peace that it made Sam wonder-how did he do it? How was he just sitting there, driving to who the hell knows where, tapping the steering wheel in time to the pounding of some heavy metal song while his younger brother drowned next to him.

Sam felt overwhelmed. He knew that he should be happy, relived, full of righteous vindication for what they had accomplished earlier that night. But instead, as the adrenaline subsided, Sam just felt tired-tired of the fight, tired of being a burden, tired of being scared…

Not just scared, he realized, terrified by the way things went down at the entrance to hell. The anxiety he had felt at the beginning of the mission had quickly turned to rage upon seeing Jake again. Sam wasn't sure where it was coming from; sure, he had felt angry more times than he could count, but rip someone's heart out with his bare hands rage...that was unusual for him. It was when Jake made his offhanded comment about stabbing Sam in the back-about severing his spine-that the dots were all connected-Jake had murdered him. It had taken Sam a moment to comprehend this concept-murdered men don't wake up on a filthy bed with pain radiating through them. They get buried to rot or burned to ashes. They do not wake up in some strange shack all alone-

Alone... no older brother leaning over him, concern etched on his face, sitting vigil. No, Sam woke up alone, and he had known then that something was not right. The next clue had been the wound itself-horribly painful, tender, red...but healing? Almost completely healed, Sam realized, making him wonder just how long he has been out when Dean returned.

Dean's face gave away so much at that moment; the mask of cool indifference his brother usually wore was missing. Instead, apprehensive hope, then immense relief had washed over Dean's features as he saw his younger brother standing in front of the mirror. Sam wasn't sure what had confused him more-the eyes of his older brother so red from crying that the green was almost washed out, or the hug that Dean gave him. The hug wasn't so unusual in concept; although offered rarely, Dean would embrace his younger brother to console him after Jessica's death, or to offer reassurance after a nightmare vision woke him violently. So the hug itself wasn't what shocked Sam...it was the intensity of the embrace. Dean had grabbed him as if he feared Sam would disappear, only letting go so his younger brother could breathe.

Sam had felt so disjointed after waking that he hadn't put all the clues together-the way Dean kept glancing at him in awe as they drove to Bobby's house-the look Bobby quickly hid after seeing the brothers at his door. The glances the two men shared when they thought Sam was not looking. It was not until Jake's protest at Sam's mortality that it made sense...he had died that night from Jake's handiwork, and with that knowledge came an obvious conclusion; there was only one way Sam could be standing there aiming his gun at his own murderer-a deal must have been made.

Sam shuddered in the present a he thought about shooting Jake. Even now he didn't feel remorseful. Dean has sacrificed his soul to bring Sam back from the dead, and he wouldn't have done that if not for Jake's actions. The intense rage he had felt at the time seemed justified as well, Sam thought, believing that subconsciously he must have know that Dean had done something foolish for Sam to be breathing.

What Sam couldn't reconcile was the joy he felt as he pulled the trigger. He had gloated over Jake as he begged for his life, and as Sam showed Jake the same mercy as a knife to the back, Sam had felt good...not just good, he had enjoyed it, watching as the life left Jake's eyes, relishing the splatter of warm blood on his face-

Suddenly his stomach retched at the memory. He took in a long, slow breath to steady himself. His head was starting to pound in time to his heart as his stomach rebelled against his efforts to calm down. Sam felt himself starting to panic-what the hell happened to him when he died? Why would the death of another human being, no matter how justified, make him feel that way. Then it hit him-he must have come back wrong. Deals with demons always had catches. You wish for talent when you meant fame, money without specifying the cost, a brother's life, but not his soul.

Full on panic gripped Sam now, and his brother had noticed. The thoughts were screaming in Sam's head as Dean pulled the Impala roughly off the road. Had Dean thought in his grief to ask for Sam's soul to be returned to his dead body? He was tainted with demon blood, and without his soul to keep him in check, Sam feared what it could mean. Maybe that was why he couldn't remember anything from his death...his soul has stayed behind when his body was brought back to life.

Sam couldn't breathe-his body forgot how to pull in air as his mind raced with it's new found discovery. He realized suddenly that Dean had left the driver's seat and was quickly moving around the front of the car. Sam's door was soon opened, and Dean was crouching next to his younger brother, concern radiating off him.

Sam wanted to get away-needed to get away-as far away from Dean as possible to protect his brother from what he had become. He wrestled himself from the car, tripping over Dean in the process, falling to his knees as his stomach finally succeeded in emptying it's contents. Dean was next to him then, a hand on his shoulder offering reassurance.

The events of the evening were taking their toll-a demonic shove into a tree and the violent dry heaves that had now taken over were making the recently healed fatal wound burn. Sam could feel himself get light headed, black spots at the edge of his vision; he felt himself sway, then Dean's strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him back to rest against the Impala.

Dean gently leaned Sam back against the car, concern and confusion fighting for dominance over his emotions. He was not sure what had started it, but his little brother was in full on panic attack mode. By now he could hear someone approaching over Sam' s rapid breathing, and he smiled slightly despite the current situation.

"It's okay Bobby, just needed to stretch our legs a bit." Dean called out to the fellow hunter.

Bobby grunted, approaching less stealth-like now "I must be losing my touch." he mumbled as he leaned into the Impala's driver side window, flashing the headlights as a signal to Ellen, who had remained with Bobby's truck. He walked casually around the front of the long black hood to take in the situation. Sam was sitting on the ground, back against the Impala's front tire, eyes clenched closed and breathing rapidly. Dean was crouched in front of the younger man, a hand on each shoulder, whispering a simple command to breathe slowly.

Bobby didn't know what had happened, but he knew the brothers would want their privacy. He motioned off to the side in a non-specific direction and told Dean he would be near by. Dean acknowledged his gesture with a brief nod. Hunter to hunter, Dean knew Bobby would stand watch while Dean was absorbed with Sam's current state, much like he had watched over Dean when he was consumed with grief over the loss of Sam. Dean's appreciation for the older hunter's quiet strength just kept on growing, he thought to himself.

Dean focused his attention on Sam, trying to figure out what was wrong with his brother. Sam's sudden shift from calmly sitting in the passenger seat to sitting on the ground outside the car about to pass out was concerning to say the least. He realized suddenly that he hadn't checked Sam for injury after the graveyard-Sam's discovery of Dean's deal had distracted him from the normal after battle triage.

"Hey, Sam-I need you to breathe-calm down, Sammy...in and out...focus on my voice..." Dean repeated quietly, moving his hands over his brother, checking for obvious injury. "Are you hurt Sammy...try to calm down...I need to know if you're injured..." he asked, trying to kept the urgency he felt out of his voice.

Sam could hear Dean's voice, and he wanted to focus on the words, but the blackness threatened to overwhelm him. He had not had a panic attack since he was a child, and try as he may, he couldn't seem to focus his thoughts. His mind kept straying back to the graveyard, and the terror that he may be tainted was all he could focus on. What would he do if it was true, how could he protect Dean from danger if he was the threat?

Sam felt Dean's hand ghosting over him, checking for injuries as he tried to calm Sam down. He could hear Dean's concerned questions, and hated being the reason why his brother was upset. He opened his eyes slowly, letting the world come back into focus before tying to answer Dean's query.

"I'm okay..." he mumbled slowly, "Just freaked a little..." Sam said quietly, his breathing slowing coming back under his control.

Dean leaned back slightly, taking in his brother's appearance. The kid looked wrecked, Dean realized. Tired would not come close to describing his overall condition, and Dean had not noticed it before, but Sam was trembling slightly. This was so much more than a panic attack, Dean knew, and as much as he hated to admit it, he thought that he was partly to blame.

"Hey, I know you've been through hell and back-" Dean started, wincing slightly at the analogy, "I mean, you know, a lot of crap went down tonight-between the gate to hell opening up, seeing Dad, killing old yellow eyes...and of course Jake-"

Sam shuddered at the mention of Jake, and like a flash of brilliant light, Dean realized what was really going on here. "Hey, Sammy, you know you had no choice back there, right? You know that Jake was evil, right?"

Sam closed his eyes again, not wanting to meet Dean's gaze. He knew what Dean was saying was accurate, but he also saw the look on his older brother's face when he had killed Jake, and that was not admiration or relief that had been there...it was as close to fear as Dean ever revealed.

Taking in Sam's reaction to the mention of Jake's name confirmed Dean's thoughts- the killing of Jake was what was really bothering his little brother. All his life, Sam had been the protector of life, always questioning the need to kill, even when they knew in the end that what they hunted was not really alive anymore anyway. But it was the fact that he questioned at all that kept him separate from the darkness that most hunters lived in-the world of black and white, good and evil, where gray could not exist; this need to question had kept Dean and his father grounded. And Dean had felt the slightest remorse when Sam had pulled that trigger-because with the killing of Jake, Sam had changed; he had become one of them. Jake deserved no less then what he got, and Dean had planned on doing it himself; the fact that Sam had beat him to it, and had dispatched with Jake with the same coldness of any other hunter was just testimony to the loss of Sam's innocence, and for that, Dean had been saddened.

"Hey, Sammy, look at me, okay..." Dean said quietly, "I need you to talk to me. You can't do this to yourself."

Sam shook his head slowly. "Dean, I killed him...and...I don't know, it was...I was..." Sam couldn't put into words what he was feeling. He suddenly felt so tired, drained off all the energy he had. All he wanted now was for things to be how they were before he had woken up in that ghost town, separated from his brother...before his world had been upended and all that he had thought he had known was forever changed.

Dean put a hand on the side of Sam's face, gently moving his head so that he could make eye contact with his brother. "Sam, you're going to be okay -you did what you had to do. He would have killed us all, and all the demons from hell would have escaped. You did the right thing, and I know that it sucks, and I know that you don't feel right, but you're going to be okay."

Sam blinked, his eyes suddenly burning from unshed tears. Dean's words felt right; although Sam felt so wrong since waking in that shack, he realized that there was truth to Dean's reassurance. If Sam felt this bad about the fact that he had felt good about killing Jake, perhaps he was not doomed yet. He worried though that if he told Dean everything that was bothering him, all the things that the demon had showed him, would Dean still feel the same way about him? Sam didn't have the energy to have that conversation now. Plus, the researcher in him started to rationalize for him; demons lie, and until he did some research into the things he had been shown, there was no reason to concern Dean yet.

"I'm sorry Dean...I don't know what came over me...I just felt...well, like I was drowning...you know..." Sam smiled briefly, Dean's reassurance finally taking hold on the younger man, "I guess I just felt like we didn't have enough drama for one night."

Dean smirked slightly, "Yeah, I know what you're talking about emo boy, you just wanted another chick-flick moment." He patted Sam's shoulder gently, a slightly more serious look returning to his face. "You're okay, though, right?"

Sam nodded slightly, 'Yeah, I'll be okay..." he replied, hoping the statement was truthful.

Dean stood then, stretching his back in the process, "Then let's get the hell out of here before Bobby has to set up couches for therapy sessions for us." He joked loudly, extending his hand to Sam, helping him get to his feet.

Bobby snorted, walking back to his truck now that the brothers were mobile again, "There are not enough therapists in the world to deal with the Winchesters..."

Dean watched Sam get back into the car before he returned to the driver's seat. In traditional Winchester fashion, this would probably never be discussed again, and Dean was surprised by the regret that caused. He wanted to be that family that could confide in each other when it involved more than anger or revenge. Perhaps the knowledge of the time limit he had with his brother would spur that change.

He glanced over at Sam, who was leaning his head against the back of the seat. Dean couldn't 't help the feeling that Sam was not telling him everything, but now was not the time to pursue the issue.

"Dude, I'm okay...Besides, we have more pressing concerns then my freak out..." Sam said suddenly, eyes still closed.

"And what is more pressing then your nuclear meltdown Sammy?" Dean asked, turning the key in the Impala's ignition.

Sam smiled slightly, "I'm going to have to do so much research to save your ass..." and my own, he thought silently.

Dean returned the smile, "Yeah, you're going to have you hands full geek boy." Dean said as they pulled back on the road, the warning the crossroads demon had given still fresh in his mind. Dean shook his head slightly, clearing his thoughts...another Winchester tradition, he realized...keeping secretes. This one would have to be revealed, Dean knew...just not tonight.

I hope you enjoyed, and I would love to hear what you think...see you soon!

-km