The muse is a strange thing...that's for sure. But then, I'm sure anyone on this site, already knows this...right? Anyway, here I am, in the middle of moving house and currently spending hours upon hours, cleaning and packing...when the muse decides that I need to get back into writing. But not any old writing...or even my Protectorverse series that I desperately need to work on. Oh no...it decides it wants to write for Sabbath. So...here we are. One very overdue and hopefully not too craptacular story to add to my 'verse. It's unbeta'd...so I have no idea how badly it might suck until you guys give me some feedback. But what can I say? The muse is happy with it....so who am I to argue, since the bitch hasn't exactly been talkative lately?

And now I'm rambling...so I'll shut up. It's 1.17am here...I started this fic, cold, off the top of my head with nothing but Sam's voice in my head...2 hours ago. You have been warned. LOL

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There had been a lot of weird hunts over the years. It sort of went with the territory of being a hunter. But Sam had to admit, chopping the head off Paris Hilton -- or at least, the demi-God wearing her likeness -- had to be right up there with the weirdest of the weird.

The whole hunt had been screwed up, really. Oh sure, Dean had apologised for not treating Sam as a partner, had given Sam hope that things would change when he handed over the keys to the Impala and they had talked again about the whole thing while Sam had driven. At least, it seemed like they'd talked…but Sam still couldn't shake what he had overheard Dean say on the phone to Bobby.

"Maybe the apocalypse got 'em all hot and bothered?...Yeah well, we all know who's fault that is. I'm sorry, but it's true."

It didn't matter that Dean had tried to say the next day that he was at fault too. That he had broken the first seal. It wasn't the same. Sam had consciously made his decision to drink the demon blood. He had willingly broken the last seal to kill Lillith and Sam couldn't be sure that he wouldn't have made that decision, even if he had known it would bring on the Apocalypse. All he had wanted was that demon bitch dead. It had been all he could think about. Revenge. Revenge for his brother.

Sam had brought on the end of the world. How could Dean not blame him for that?

But that didn't make what his brother had said, hurt any less. Sam was still the little brother that Dean had to clean up after apparently.

Maybe that was all he would ever be? Just the pain in the ass kid brother? The one who was ditched and left to babysit Sabbath back at the motel room, doing research on the case while Dean sat in a bar, chatting up some random hot chick as always?

There was a nuzzle at his leg and Sam looked down to see Sabbath sitting at his feet, watching him intently. He'd been so lost in his thoughts, that Sam had almost forgotten he had offered to take Sabbath for a walk while Dean had a shower. They'd gone to the mini-mart a couple of blocks away and bought some beers, plus a packet of frozen burger patties that were now defrosting back in the room while Sam had taken a beer and gone to sit on the trunk of the Impala.

Needing time to think. To process his thoughts and work out what he was meant to do. How did you ever make up for the mistakes that he had made?

Sabbath nuzzled Sam's leg again, grumbling slightly as he looked at his Master. He could see that something was troubling the human and it wasn't just the horrible black bruising that covered Sam's back. Sabbath wished he'd been able to take that Leshi-thing down himself. But the moment it had attacked his Masters, Sabbath had thrown into a wall and had woken up to hear the creature talking about how he was too big for something called a handbag…what did that even mean??

Sabbath had been tied down, unable to move, unable to help Sam and Dean as they had fought the demi-God and chopped it's head off.

Things should have better. They'd won. They'd killed the creature and saved people…which was what they did, right? So why was Sam looking so sad? Sabbath didn't understand it.

Jumping up to place his front paws on Sam's knees and not the Impala, Sabbath gave Sam's face a wash with his tongue and whined.

"I just don't know how to get it through to him, Sabbath." Sam said with a small, sad smile. He scratched the German Shepard's head, lifting his almost empty beer to his lips with his other hand. " I mean, I'm not a kid anymore. He can't watch out for me all the time…he's gotta let me grow up."

"Just cause I've gotta? Doesn't mean I want to…" Dean appeared from behind Sam, handing his brother a fresh beer and slapping his thigh lightly to call Sabbath over to him as he leaned his ass against the trunk beside Sam. "Come on, Sammy…you know as well as I do - you're always going to be my pain in the ass kid brother. It's just the way the universe works, dude. I'm older. I've earned my right to watch out for you…even when you're in some souped up wheelchair at ninety, bitching about Wheel Of Fortune reruns while you eat your strained prunes."

Sam wrinkled his nose slightly. "Wow…um, nice image there, Dean."

"Oh come on…you'd totally be one of those grumpy old men, dude." Dean grinned, nudging his brother.

"Yeah? Well you'd be the one all the nurses would talk about…that nice old Mister Winchester who tries so hard to charm the ladies and comes across as cute." Sam shot back with a smile of his own.

Dean frowned in mock offence and took a long draw on his beer, his free hand idly scratching behind Sabbath's right ear as the Shepard almost closed his eyes in contentment.

"So you're still pissed about that call, aren't you?" Dean lifted an eyebrow at Sam.

"What? No…" Sam shook his head, then looked at Dean curiously. "How did you even know? What are you reading my thoughts now?"

"Dude, I don't need to be a freaking spoon bender to know what goes through that mind of yours and what eats away at you. Older brother remember? It's all part of the job description."

"Blaming me for starting the Apocalypse is part of your job?" Sam didn't look at Dean then but focused on the label on his beer bottle like it was the most interesting thing in the world at that moment.

"I'm not blaming you, Sam."

"Really? Cause 'we all know who's fault that is' say's otherwise."

"Will you shut up for one moment and listen to me. You want me to say it again? Okay, fine. You were an idiot. You listened to a freaking demon bitch over me…and you started the damn Apocalypse. You happy now? Good…cause you can keep listening and let this sink in. Bobby knows what I was saying on that phone…and it wasn't that you're to blame. It's that we both are. Okay? You didn't know what killing Lillith would do any more than I knew that getting down off the rack would break the last seal. So quit playing the blame game and trying to out do me. We both got played, Sam. Plain and simple. You made choices that I wish more than anything, I could go back and change. For you, man. To stop you changing. To take you back to that kid brother I raised who looked up to me and everything I did." Dean paused and took another mouthful of beer, well aware that Sam was watching him intently now with that freaking bitchface his brother always pulled when he knew Dean was finally coming clean. "I wish I could go back to being that guy again. That cocky bastard who thought he could do anything…and didn't spend 40 years in Hell to learn otherwise. That's the truth of the matter, Sam. We both screwed up along the way…like you said. What we had before wasn't working. I gotta let you grow up, become my partner instead of my responsibility. You need to do things your own way now. We both do."

"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" Sam smirked gently.

"Shut up." Dean allowed himself a quiet smile. "Look, all I'm saying is? I get it. I need to back off on you. But that doesn't mean I won't always be there to watch your back, dude. Okay? That's still in my job description."

"Good." Sam nodded thoughtfully, smiling. Silence fell over the brothers for a moment, save for the soft panting from Sabbath, sat at their feet, watching them both.

"So…you think to grab us anything to eat? Or are we meant to share Sabbath's dinner?" Dean cocked an eyebrow at Sam.

Sabbath's ears pricked forward and he gave a small, whining bark.

"Okay, okay…no sharing, I get the message. One of these days, you're gonna need an intervention, buddy…you've got a burger habit." Dean rubbed his knuckles lightly over Sabbath's head, smiling.

"Well, we could order pizza? Or maybe Chinese?" Sam offered, sliding off the trunk and heading back to the room.

"Whatever, dude…you're paying."

"What?"

"Oh yeah, you wanna play in the big leagues? You get to pay for the food…it's-"

"…In the job description…right." Sam shook his head, chuckling to himself as Dean and Sabbath followed him into the room. Things weren't ever going to be the way they were before. But Sam was finally able to see that they didn't have be. He still had his brother at his back…and that was all either of them really needed.