A/N: So, this happens to be a story I wrote when I had only watched all of the first season, the third season, and episodes 7-10 of the fourth season, so some things aren't exactly compliant with the show, but I think the majority of this could have actually happened, give or take a few sentences... Anyways, this might seem like a pretty vague and weird story, as far as the conversation between the boys goes, but I think for the most part it makes sense...

Oh, and if you are wondering about where the title came from: I had a friend of mine write down a bunch of different phrases and words that I could use as writing prompts, one of them was "When in Rome, do as the Romans" and it made me think of Dean brushing off a question from Sam saying "When in Rome"... So there is that little explanation there...

Disclaimer: Are they mine? Wait, one second, let me check with my lawyer... Apparently, not... I guess some guy named Kripke owns them and that guy is not me... Oh well, I'm just borrowing...

When in Rome

by the Grey Phantom

Dean stared at Sam, a mix of awe and wonder conflicting with the rage and disappointment he knew he should be feeling. His little brother whom he always fought to protect and save time and time again, did the impossible, he just exorcised the demon, Samhain, with his mind. And now, he just stood there, eyes closed, with a blank look on his face.

Dean was jerked back into reality when Sam started to sway. Running forward, all anger and sadness left him as his big brother instincts kicked in, catching Sam just before he hit the ground.

"Hey, stay with me, Sam." Dean murmured, turning the younger brother onto his back. Sam's nose had stopped bleeding but his face was scrunched up in pain as he fought to hold onto consciousness.

"D-Dean?" he whispered.

"I'm here, Sammy, it's alright."

"Sorry." The moment the word left Sam's lips, Dean jerked backward, confusion evident on his face.

"Wha- for what?" Dean asked incredulously as he tried to pull Sam to his feet. Sam didn't answer him. Still puzzled by Sam's apology, Dean reached down next to the corpse of Samhain's host and picked up the knife, the knife, and it finally clicked. Shock crossed Dean's face, both at Sam and his apology, and himself.

Deciding now wasn't the time to start an argument, regardless of who was really to blame or yell at for anything, Dean started to get Sam walking. Wrapping an arm around Sam's waist and hoisting Sam's around his shoulders, Sam walked forward on trembling legs. Seeming to concur with Dean's decision, Sam was silent the rest of the journey back to the Impala.

After helping Sam into the passenger seat, Dean started moving around the car, but stopped and sat on the back end of the Impala. Taking a deep breath, Dean glanced around at his surroundings, a hundred thoughts flying through his mind all at once. But the thought that was prevalent was one question: why? Why was Sam cursed with those abilities he didn't even want? Why was Dean brought back from Hell if he couldn't even do anything or make a difference, whether it be with his brother or the breaking of the sixty-six damn seals? Why did Sam lie to him?

And that last question was the most painful of all. Why would Sam break a promise like that?

But then Dean recalled the look on the youngest of the Winchester men's face, the guilt, the shame, the fear. Dean had entered that room in the mausoleum and found Sam holding back a demon, Sam holding back a demon with the power of his mind, of all things, and he looked so fearless, so strong, but then he noticed Dean out of the corner of his eye, and it all changed. Determination and righteous anger suddenly replaced with guilt and shame at a broken promise. Confidence and power was removed, leaving fear and agony in its wake.

What did Sam have to be afraid of, though? He had clearly been wining against Samhain when Dean walked in on that battle. Sam could obvious hold his own against hundreds of different monsters, spirits, and demons, yet he had seemed to lose all self-belief in a single moment.

A single phrase that Dean had uttered not long ago answered his own question, "If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you."

Guilt washed over Dean like a torrent of pain and agony. A sudden self-loathing had reared its ugly head at the memory, at the feeling he had inspired in his little brother.

Me, Dean thought, he was afraid of me.

Inside the Impala, Sam had started to get worried. He was about to open the cold metal door when Dean jerked open the driver seat door. The faint squeak of the door threatened to make Sam's head explode; the massive migraine that had set in during his fight with Samhain had not lessened since the confrontation, and no end seemed to be in sight.

When Dean sat down, he glanced over at his younger brother, but Sam would not meet his eyes. Putting the car in drive, Dean pulled out of the nightmare he and Sam had just barely survived, the horrendous battle they had walked into of their own free will. What did that say about their feelings of self-preservation?

The uncomfortable silence of his brother started to annoy Dean so he tried to fix it as best he could, like he always would. No matter the situation, time, or place, if Sam was involved, then Dean would have to do something to try and make it at least a little better.

"A legendary demon and a bunch of zombies, we haven't fought a mix like that before." Sam grunted in response.

Dean tried to fill the rest of the drive back to the motel with conversation but Sam would reply in monosyllables and non-committal grunts. The only thing Sam could think about was his guilt at breaking his promise to his brother. The scene of Samhain attempting to edge forward as Dean stared, shocked, at what was playing out before him, was repeating itself, it was a horrible, miniature cinema that would not ever end.

The blinding pain in his head was unrelenting as Dean pulled his baby into the motel parking lot.

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean was yelling at him and Sam had not even noticed. Jerked out of his morose thoughts, Sam straightened and looked over at Dean, purposely avoiding his eyes.

"Wha-what, Dean?"

"I said, "are you sure you're alright?" but from the response I've been getting out of you for the past couple of minutes says you definitely aren't."

"What? Of course I am, I'm fine, Dean, I swear." Sam was repeating the Winchester family mantra, and Dean knew it. Sam was about to open his door when Dean threw the Impala into reverse.

"What the hell, dude, what're you doing?" Stopping the car in the middle of the parking lot, Dean seemed to consider what he was saying, and then placed it into drive before spinning the car back onto the highway and away from the neon lights of their motel.

Dean now knew what he needed to do and began to steel himself so as to stay on task. "Sammy, we need to talk."

Sam huffed, "So talk," Sam replied slowly, confusion evident in his voice.

"Are you," Dean paused and seemed to think about what he was going to say for a moment, "are you sure you're feeling okay?" Dean asked hesitantly, like he was afraid Sam was a ticking time bomb that could explode any second.

"Yes, Dean, I said I was!" Frustrated with his brow furrowed, Sam shook his head.

Wrong thing to do. Sam hissed, moving his head like that made him feel like his brain had already exploded and what was left was up in flames.

"Yeah, that was convincing, Sam. Now, let me ask you again, what's the matter?"

"It's just—don't worry about it, I'm fine, man." Great silhouettes of monstrous trees passed on either side as the full moon shined down on the sleek, black car.

"Don't give me that shit, dude, I'm not in the mood for it." Sam cringed, and whose fault is it that you aren't in the mood for it? Oh wait, its mine. Even in his thoughts, sarcasm was dripping.

"It's my head, okay; I just have a killer headache."

"Because of Samhain," There it was, it was not a statement or a question, it was an accusation. Sam lowered his head in despair. There was not any hope for forgiveness now.

"Yeah, because of Samhain," Sam's voice was quiet and Dean almost could not hear it over the low purr of the Impala. Dean was just about to drop the argument that he knew was forming on both sides, Sam was hurting, both physically and emotionally, and Dean's instinct to protect the youngest of the Winchester tribe was trying to take control and let him envelope Sam in a hug, telling him everything would be alright, whether he was cruising down the highway at sixty-five miles per hour or not, chick-flick moment or not, but it was not what Sam needed right then, and Dean knew it. What Sam needed was someone to vent to, someone to listen to him after being alone, with only a demon for company, for four months, regardless if he had already done so not long before now.

Sam stayed silent after his simple confession, like he was waiting for a lecture from his big brother, like he was a misbehaving puppy that deserved to be punished for messing up the furniture. Sam's head was hanging in remorse. Apparently, Sam had no intention of talking, of fighting or arguing, anymore. And why should he, Dean thought, he was without anyone for four months, and even though I'm back, he doesn't know what to do anymore.

"I'm sorry."

"What!" Sam jerked his head up, "what in the hell for?"

"For-for leaving you," Dean kept his eyes on the empty road in front of him.

"Dean, we've had this conversation before, you couldn't do anything about it." Sam said incredulously.

"I could have tried harder. I could have cared about what I knew I was going to do to you. I-I could have been there when things like-like this started."

"Things like what, Dean?" Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother. Sam knew Dean still felt guilty about what had happened with his deal, guilty for what had happened with both Sam and Dean, but something else was wrong.

"Things like," Dean paused, "like what happened with Samhain." There it was, it was finally out in the open, the whole reason behind the awkward silences since the mausoleum, the sudden drive to who-knows-where Dean was taking Sam on with him, the strange attempts at conversation throughout the night, it was just waiting to be brought out, but neither brother had wanted to approach the subject, it was all because of Sam's powers.

"So you're blaming yourself for these goddamn powers?" Sam was shocked at Dean's proclamation.

"Sammy, it's just, if I had been there you wouldn't have even wanted to figure out how to use 'em in the first place."

"How can you even say that? If you hadn't made your deal I wouldn't have even been here in the first place. Even if you had somehow gotten out of your deal, how can you say it wouldn't have turned out how it did?" Sam was near a whisper and was staring down at his palms as if they held the answers to all his questions.

This conversation was not going the direction Dean had been trying to steer it into, it wasn't even close in comparison to the whole reason he had started the conversation. Dean needed to try a different tactic, "But look at what did happen, Sam, look at you. I'm sorry man, but you look like shit, you won't sleep, won't hardly eat, you vanish in the middle of the nights when you think I'm not awake, and I know you've stopped your midnight adventures with Ruby, but still!"

"Thanks, Dean," sarcasm heavy in his voice, Sam looked up from his hands, hazel eyes a mix between annoyance and a melancholy amusement, "its not you, though."

"Really? Well, that's a relief," Dean said cynically, "If you say it isn't because of my little trip downstairs, then what is it?"

"It was--" Dean cut Sam off right as he began to speak.

"Is, Sam, is."

"Fine, is, it is nothing."

"Damn it, Sam, just tell me, I'm not stopping this car until you do."

"Don't worry about me, Dean, I'm alright and--"

"No, you're no!" Dean was yelling now, the night's events finally starting to get to him. Sam stayed silent knowing his protests wouldn't help him.

"You haven't asked me, yet." Sam was whispering again. Dean whipped his head around, staring at his little brother.

"What—asked you what?"

"Why I broke another promise to you, Dean."

"Another promise? God! You're still on one about not saving me from hell, aren't you?" Sam did not reply.

"I don't care, Sam, I don't care."

"Don't care? Don't care about what!?! About sending you to hell, about betraying you, about lying to you? What?" Sam had finally raised his voice above a murmur for the first time that night.

"All of it. I don't care about any of it."

"But why?" Sam was close to tears at this point, "How can you?" That was the explanation of Sam's behavior that night. That look on his face when Dean found him facing off against Samhain, the silent treatment Sam had tried to give Dean, the looks Sam had given him when he thought he hadn't been looking, it was because of a broken promise to Dean, he thought he had betrayed Dean.

Dean had always thought Sam was a complicated individual, but when it came to the relatively difficult things, Sam was pretty simple. It was the same now; even after all the changes he had made in Dean's absence.

"Sam, I'm not going to lie to you. These… powers scare the hell out of me, but that isn't why I care about them so much! I already told you, Cas said if I couldn't stop you, he would, and from the looks of that Uriel guy, it won't exactly be lollipops and candy canes. These guys, they're thrust down to damnation first and ask questions later."

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it? I repeat my darkest fears to you and all you can say is "okay"?"

"No, I mean… yes, okay. I tried, Dean, I tried."

"I know, Sam, I know."

A/N: I know it seems to end really abruptly, but I kind of think that is how it would have happened. I'm pretty sure that Kripke intends to milk the chasms between the brothers for all they are worth, so it probably wouldn't have much solvency by the end of this episode/moment in time. Thanks for reading, and reviews are greatly appreciated.

Until next time,

The Grey Phantom