What I fear
What I try
The words I say and what I hide
All the pain
I want it to end
But I want it again

- Fight Inside by Red

Sam's eyes moved slowly across the ceiling, counting stains, dirt spots and anything else completely pointless enough to waste his attention on. He was laying spread-eagled on his bed, his hands folded behind his head in boredom. As it was right now, there wasn't anything good to think about. Well… there was too much to think about actually, but there weren't any thoughts in Sam's head that he actually liked. So that meant he had to clear his mind, and just keep looking at those stupid brown stains on the ceiling above his head.

Keeping a clear head was never one of Sam's strong suits. He over-thought everything… at least that's what Dean always used to tell him. "Sammy stop thinking about it, you're going to pop a blood vessel." And right now wasn't an exception. Of course, laying there like this looking up at the ceiling reminded him of all the effed-up stuff in his life that involved ceilings. It made him think about Jess burning alive, which reminded him of mom dying the same way. And that reminded him of Dad. His death wasn't exactly something Sam was going to wipe from his memory any time soon. And in perfect circle, Dean came next. The grand finale. The big-cahuna. Dean's death was the only one that he saw coming, and yet he still couldn't stop his brother from going to hell. The perfect way to prove to Sam that he was really as much of a curse to others as he always knew he was. So mom died protecting Sam… Jess died because she got in the way of Sam hunting… Dad had died because Azazel – who was after Sam the whole time – made them crash the car and almost kill Dean… And Dean died for Sam. What a waste that was on Dean's behalf.

It wasn't hard to wonder sometimes if Dean regretted it. Sam could see, every day, how much the memories of what happened in hell were tearing Dean up inside. The demons had taken his brother – his unbeatable, indestructible, unbreakable brother – and they bad broken him. And then he came back to earth to try and fix what had been broken, but Sam was beginning to see that it was easier said than done for Dean to put himself back together. And as much as it killed to think that way, Sam knew that there wasn't a single thing he could do to help Dean. Hell was too much, and it was hard to think that Dean had gone through hell on Sam's behalf. It didn't make any sense.

There was also the little factor of Sam himself. Right now, Dean was a little… pissed… with Sam lately. Sam knew that wasn't the right word to use, but he also knew that in Dean's books right now… he was pretty close to the bottom of the list. If not the very bottom.

And from Dean's perspective, it did make a bit of sense. Sam could see how the lies and the entire process of going around behind Dean's back looked. But honestly, there wasn't a better way to go about it. The lies were… well they were to protect Dean. And maybe to protect himself too, just a little. But mostly Dean.

Because honestly… Dean needed protecting right now. It was hard for Sam to see his brother like this, harder still knowing that he was making things worse. Dean had lost his edge, his inner core, and although he still had strength and determination he wasn't the same person. Right now… Dean just wanted things to be like they were before. Perfectly, undeservingly normal. Well… their type of normal. And a brother with demon-given powers wasn't normal. Hunting down Lilith wasn't normal. Killing demons with the flick of a wrist wasn't normal. Sam wasn't normal apparently… As if Dean hadn't made that clear enough by now. And after all this… Dean wasn't happy with anything Sam did anymore. Everything that Sam did was considered wrong. What he said. What music he listened too. What he wore. How tall he was. Who he hooked up with. How he hunted. How many beers he had on a day off. Where he went in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep. Who he talked too on the phone. The fact that he didn't need to use an exorcism anymore. What he watched on TV. Everything was officially bad. Off limits. A big faus-pas. Just in case there was a slight possibility that maybe something was related to being physic or using powers or talking to Ruby, Dean pretty much watched every movement like a hawk. And what he saw, clearly, wasn't good enough. If Sam hadn't already been convinced that his life was a complete joke, than Dean was beginning to set that in stone very nicely. And yet Dean wondered why Sam lied…

Even though lying to Dean was hard – they were brothers and best friends, after all – it wasn't the hardest part. Sam was never ecstatic about the whole process of his powers. The mood swings were confusing, the adrenaline rushes and headaches tired him out constantly, and the demon blood was… well… he hated it. And loved it. But he didn't really want to consider that part. He just wanted to stop so that he knew what he wanted, knew what was right, and make Dean happy for once.

It was necessary to continue though, Sam knew. Ruby had drilled that into his head from day one, and he had seen the effects of skipping out. Without a hit, he was sloppy, tired, depressed and weak. With, he was controlled, energetic and stronger every time. And he got to save lives, and got closer every day to killing Lilith… that was supposed to be a good thing. But it didn't always seem that way…

Sam didn't like it anymore than Dean did, but he had learned to suck it up. And if Dean didn't what Sam was doing, than he could suck it up too. Dean didn't get it! He was one of the reason's why Sam was doing this in the first place! Not only did killing Lilith save the world and stop the apocalypse from happening, but it eliminated the contract that her crossroad's demon had made with Dean. How can Lilith own Dean's soul if there is no Lilith? Now can Lilith get Dean back in the pit if she's dead? Lilith dies, and Dean never has to worry about that again. Actually, just for safety's sake Alistair had to go too. And it wouldn't be long before that ugly son of a bitch reared his ugly head again, so Sam knew he would have his chance to off the demon eventually. This wasn't about revenge, this was about justice. This was about protecting people. And if killing off the two demons who had caused his brother pain was part of the bargain, then revenge was just a bonus. If Dean didn't understand that, then too bad. He didn't need too. He would benefit whether he liked it or not.

All he had to do was kill Lilith, Sam figured. Lilith and her minions, that is. Lilith, Alistair, and the few stranglers that survived the fight. Once they were dead, Sam could stop training. He could stop using demon blood. He could stop seeing Ruby. He could stop lying to Dean. He could… He could just stop everything. Once Lilith was dead and the ungrateful world was saved from the worst threat to humanity since the inevitability of it's own self-destruction, Sam was done. And the world could go to hell after that – although not literally, cause that would sort of defeat the whole purpose of what he was doing – but he was done. D. O. N. E., Done. Sam was pretty much giving everything he had to do this – and somehow he knew that he would have to give more – so after this war was over he really didn't give a damn what the rest of the world did. He never wanted this life, these powers or this weight on his shoulders. But lucky for the world that he had the heart enough to use what he had been given to try and help out. So after this… it didn't really mater what he did. In fact, he didn't even care what happened next, to him or the rest of humanity.

But right now he was alone. He was tired, depressed and needing another high. And he was still staring at that stupid stained ceiling that reminded him of everything he's ever done wrong. So right now he did care. He cared a lot.