This fiction takes place a week before Dean comes back from hell in season 4. This fiction only deals with the brothers. There are no other characters from supernatural in it aside from Castiel occasionally. There will be new made up characters. I am focusing on the brothers relationship. I also took the demon blood addiction storyline out, and changed it into to drug addiction (you'll see why). So everything else in the series pretty much happens. John died selling his soul for Dean. Sam lost Jessica the same way Mary died. I down pay the Sam/Jessica love storyline because Sam has always been in love with Dean. Comments are welcome and let me know if there's something you think I should try writing in.

Prologue

Sam lied on the bed smiling blissfully thinking about the first time he had ever kissed Dean, knowing they had come so far since then. Being 100% secure in there relationship, knowing, without a doubt, he wouldn't change a thing. Dean was on his side muttering something about being hungry and slowly slipped out of the sheets. It took him awhile to emerge from the sheet and sit on the edge of the huge king sized four poster bed. Dean rolled his neck working out all the kinks that Sam knew had everything to do with what they were doing all night. Dean stood up. Sam admired his perfectly sculpted ass. When Dean bent over to pick up his pants Sam smiled, and leaned over and smacked his bottom with as much force as his loose limps could muster. Dean gasped at the unknown sharp sensation he felt.

"Ouch!" He said meaning it.

Sam just laughed and folded his arms behind his head watching Dean slip into his pants muscles working as he bended. Dean didn't put on anything else just his faded jeans slightly torn at the bottom and made his way into the kitchen for sustenance. Sam fell back onto the pillows his long, wild hair spilling around him. After a few minutes Sam smelled the intoxicating sent of fresh brewed coffee and thought of how much he truly loved Dean.

Chapter 1: Hurts like hell

Sam jumped up his own screams waking him. He turned on the lamp on the bedside table, and looked at himself on the large mirror over the dresser in the dank little motel room he had rented, unable to bear the impala for one more minute. It wasn't that he didn't love his brother's pride and joy, it was just it smelled so much like Dean, and he could clearly see him, and feel him every second he was driving it. He let his mind wonder a bit. Remembering the first time Dean ever drove it. The look of wonder on his face as he made it above fifty, the way Dean's eyes always lit up emerald green and they crinkled up so tight when he was really happy.

Sam didn't recognize the loud sob of agony that escaped his lips. He did it again, thought about Dean too long. He braced himself as the his body started shaking with deep blood curdling sobs. He waited for the loud horrible shrieks to stop and ebb into tiny whimpers. It had almost been four months since he watched those hellhounds rip Dean, the only thing in his whole existence that ever mattered to him, to shreds. He clenched his first as tight as he could until his nails dug deep into his palm. The need to kill something evil was working up a heavy appetite in him. He knew he would have to go on a hunt soon to be able to keep his sanity.

Once he was brave enough he looked in the mirror again. His face looked pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. His hair was dry and had no shine, mainly because he gave no fucks about his appearance anymore. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He wanted to be completely unapproachable. He held himself tightly when he felt his body start to shake again. This time it had nothing to do with the pain he felt in his chest at the absence of his brother. He let himself feel like crap for a little bit. He started to get a painful stabbing in his head. His body shook uncontrollably. He felt like he was freezing meanwhile he was sweating profusely. He couldn't bring himself to look at himself anymore thinking about how much of an incredible piece of shit he truly was.

"Why!" He screamed at nothing. "Why!" He demanded into the empty room. "Why." He said one more time softer as the tears started rolling down his face warm and stinging from crying so much. He was pissed, in agony, he wanted to bring back Dean so he could kick his ass as hard as he possibly could. How could he sell his soul to save him? How did he not know that he would rather die one thousand deaths then spend one day away from him. He shuddered at the thought of what horrible torture Dean must be enduring right now.

That was it, the thought that set him over the edge. He sprung to his feet his sweat pants and gray shirt drenched in sweat and reached for the bottle of hydrocodone he kept on the nightstand shoving the last four in his mouth swallowing them with the bottle of whisky that was always near him. He walked into the small kitchen area with the bottle and chugged half of it getting a much needed buzz as he sank into, the way too small for his 6ft 4in frame, desk chair. He took out his phone and texted his dealer DizzyBone.

"What do you have that's good?" He sent

"I got some really good soda, and just got some hair dye." Dizzy answered almost instantly. Sam loved that Dizzy treated selling drugs like an actual business. He was actually professional. Showed up on time, things like that. He hated the stupid paranoid code names he used.

"I need the usual plus 40 of hair dye." Sam had never tried heroine but he was down for anything that helped him escape his hell on earth.

"Alright so that's the 4 cans soda, 10 donuts, and 4 hair dyes?" Dizzy answered just as fast. Sam smiled at him using donut for hydrocodone. Then instantly felt guilty and his face went straight faced serious again.

"Yeah." He texted still stinging from the first smile that crossed his face since...

"Where are you at?" Dizzy asked

"Mo's motel." Sam typed shaking his head at the thought he just had about...

"Give me 15." Dizzy answered. Sam also loved that Dizzy delivered.

"Thanks Dizz." He typed as he walked into the bathroom. After he peed. He took the coldest shower known to man, and waited anxiously for his next fix to be delivered to his damn doorstep. He clutched the cash in his hand tightly as he sat. He was ready, ready to escape. He didn't want to make small talk he just wanted this to transaction to be as fast as possible.