Disclaimer: I own nothing. I just like to play.

xxxxx

It's been three days.

Three days since Sam's really eaten. Three days since Sam's spoken more than a few words at a time. Three days since Sam's had a decent night's rest.

Three days since he told us he was applying for law school. Three days since we pulled him out of his burning apartment. Three days since Jess died.

xxxxx

Today was Jess's funeral, and then we were heading over to Bobby's because Dean and I weren't sure what else to do. Dad wasn't returning our calls, so Dean made the decision to go to the only home we knew, try to help Sam heal, and go from there. It wasn't the greatest plan, but at least we had one.

I checked my hair in the bathroom mirror one more time. I was a little nervous because I knew Jess's family would be there. Saying "I'm sorry" was so inadequate, and deep down, I selfishly wanted to avoid that conversation altogether. I smoothed down the front of my skirt and sighed, staring at my reflection. I looked tired, and my eyes were red from crying. My gaze shifted to the right, and I saw Dean approaching behind me. I gave a half-smile that he returned. His arms wrapped around me and he rested his chin on my shoulder. We watched each other from the mirror.

"How're you doing?" He murmured in my ear, squeezing me.

I shrugged and squeezed him back. "How's he doing?"

He shrugged and we both squeezed each other.

I closed my eyes. "Today's gonna suck."

"Yeah, I know. But we'll get him through it."

I nodded and leaned my head against him. "You hear from Dad, yet?"

Dean's eyes locked with mine in the mirror, and I knew the answer. I shook my head, feeling the anger start, and Dean gripped me tighter. "Hey…hey...not now. It doesn't matter. We're here. That's what counts."

He gave me one more quick squeeze and a kiss on my cheek. "C'mon...let's get going."

He returned to the main room. "Ready, Sammy?" There was the sound of shuffling and a sigh.

I swallowed, looked down at my hands, turned and left the bathroom. I took a good look at Sam as I reached for my purse. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands clasped tightly in front of him. His leg was bouncing and he was swallowing convulsively. I took a step towards him, my hand outstretched. "Hey…"

He just stared at me, his eyes a little wild.

I nodded and stepped back, taking several deep breaths.

Sam wiped his hands on his pants and stood up. "Okay…" was all he said.

Dean cast a worried glance at me before opening the door and leading the way to the Impala.

xxxxx

The ride to the cemetery seemed to take forever. Dean drove in silence, alternating between watching Sam slumped next to him, and me in the back seat, lost in my own thoughts.

Even when he was at Stanford, Sam and I have always been together. Our relationship was grounded in the best of friendships, and we've never, ever, hidden from each other. Since Jess died, he closed himself off from me.

We'd been out that night, celebrating his decision to apply for law school. Jess had stayed behind, letting Dean and I have Sam to ourselves. I know that guilt from being away that night is tearing him up inside.

I could feel the pain radiating from him, and I ached to hold and comfort him.

But I couldn't reach him at all, so I kept my distance and let him grieve alone.

The Moores preferred to hold the ceremony at the gravesite. The irony of being at a cemetery in daylight, full of people, without lugging around cannisters of salt and gasoline was not lost on us. In fact, Dean actually insisted we bring some (although I pushed lighter fluid instead of gasoline), which was why I was carrying a larger than normal purse. We didn't think Sam needed to know about it...or about the gun, crucifix, and holy water we crammed in there as well.

Not knowing what to expect, we wanted to be prepared. Dean ran himself ragged constantly on watch for the Demon, in case it made a move against Sam. So far it'd been quiet, but you never know.

We turned into the cemetery, and drove along a winding lane until we reached the site. Dean pulled over near a large statue of an angel, and before the Impala's engine quit rumbling, Sam was out of the car. He leaned against the passenger door and ran his fingers through his hair.

I glanced at Dean, who was giving Sam an assessing look through the window. He nodded briefly to himself, and got out. He approached Sam and leaned on the car next to him. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, almost touching. Sam was slouching, appearing to be the same height as Dean.

I felt Sam shift his weight on the car, moving slightly closer to his brother. Dean snaked his arm around Sam's shoulder, and gently squeezed. Sam briefly lay his head on Dean's shoulder, as he started to shake slightly. The squeeze tightened, and Sam wiped his eyes.

I suppressed a wave of jealousy, as I watched Sam allow Dean's support. I knew this wasn't about me and my need to comfort him, but I couldn't help how I felt nonetheless. I sighed, and opened the car door, exiting the Impala and standing apart from the boys. I felt slightly childish, purposefully keeping some distance between us, but Sam seemed to need space from me. I never denied my brother anything, and I wasn't going to start now.

Dean met my gaze.

Hey…

I shook my head, my lips pursed together.

I looked away...effectively ending communication.

"Sam!"

We all turned to see a young couple heading our way. Sam walked towards them, meeting them halfway across the lane. The girl gave him a hug, and as they talked, she kept a hand on his arm. Sam didn't move away, but he shoved his own hands in his pockets and didn't return the touch.

Dean took a step towards me, probably preparing a "don't feel bad" speech, when he stopped, looking over my shoulder. His eyes widened slightly. Curious, I turned around and froze.

Dad.

He was standing in the middle of the road, coat pulled tight around him. I knew the expression on his face...it's the one he wore when faced with something so impossibly overwhelming that he feared he would drown.

The prospect of my dad's comforting presence overrode everything else right then. I walked purposefully to him and buried my face in his chest, sighing with relief when his arms crushed me to him. No matter how pissed off I got at his inability to parent...there was absolutely nothing like the protectiveness of John Winchester.

Dad rested his hand on the back of my head, holding me to him. "Hey, kiddo…" he whispered.

I didn't trust myself to speak, so instead I held him tighter.

I heard Dean approach, and felt Dad's grip shift. "Hi, son."

"Dad." Dean's tone was a bit terse, and I almost laughed at the role reversal from just that morning in the bathroom.

I wiped my eyes and pulled away. Dad turned back to me, cupping my chin in his hand, searching my face for answers about Sam.

I shook my head, quickly glancing over my shoulder. Sam had stopped talking to his friends, and was now staring at us, disbelief on his face. I heard Dad sigh, a ragged, weary sound, knowing he saw Sam, too. I got a quick kiss on the forehead before he moved away.

We watched Dad and Sam slowly walk towards each other. Dean stepped to my side, and I slipped my hand in his. He squeezed tightly and I realized I was holding my breath.

They stopped a few feet apart. They hadn't seen each other since Sam's first Christmas at Stanford. Since then, every visit Dean or I made to Palo Alto had been without him. I like to think that the anger had faded, but in its place, Dad held on to resentment at Sam's refusal to make hunting the Demon a priority, and Sam still had issues with Dad's refusal to move on.

I heard Dad talking, but couldn't make out the words. Sam nodded and shifted his weight on his feet, crossing his arms in front of him. The rumble of Dad's voice continued, and Sam stared up into the sky, his bottom lip starting to tremble as he fought for control. Dad took his hands out of his pockets, and rested them on Sam's shoulders.

Sam pinched his lips together and brought himself back under control. He furiously wiped at his eyes, and kept nodding at whatever Dad was saying, shifting his weight yet again. Dad nodded back, clapped Sam on the shoulder and beckoned for us to come near.

Dean let go of my hand and walked quickly to Sam's side. I followed more slowly, taking in our surroundings in an attempt to quell the nausea settling in my stomach. I looked everywhere except at Sam, and he avoided me as well.

As a family, we walked towards Jess' grave.

xxxxx

I'm sure the service was nice. I admit, I barely paid attention. I was obsessing over Sam's rejection of me, Dad's presence, and my own grief over Jess, all while scanning the cemetery for signs of demon activity.

I knew Dean was worried about both me and Sam, and I didn't want him to have that burden. Sam needed to be his focus, not me, so I resolved to stop the sulking and give Dean the "all clear" to do just that.

Dad knows exactly how Sam feels, so maybe that bizarre connection could start to heal the crap between them. I was more worried about what that healing would entail. The last thing I wanted was for Sam to end up like Dad.

I squeezed Dad's arm and smiled at him when he looked down at me. Feeling restless, I gestured with my head, indicating that I was going to walk the perimeter a bit. He quickly looked around with his eyes before nodding back.

I hefted the purse on my shoulder and wandered off. Once I'd gone a little ways, I turned to look at my family.

Sam stood, flanked by Dad and Dean. He had his hands crammed into his pockets again, and his gaze was on the ground. Dean's arms were crossed over his chest, head held high. He kept his eyes open and alert, completely tuned in to Sam's every movement, as well as the behaviors of everyone around them. He noticed me standing apart, and narrowed his eyes. I just smiled and barely shifted the purse.

Just watching.

He nodded imperceptibly and returned his attention to the ceremony.

Dad's hands were in the pockets of his coat. He stood tall, and very close to Sam. On one hand, he looked like just a dad who was supporting his grieving son. On the other hand, he looked ready to kill anything that came close to threatening his child. There was a fresh aura of resolve emanating from him, and that worried me a bit.

It made me think...if Mary hadn't died, I wouldn't exist. It was really that simple. I wondered what unintentional event would occur as a result of Jess' murder.

I sighed, and turned my attention to the others attending the service. Jess' family sat on chairs near the grave. Her mother was sobbing into a tissue while her husband patted her back. The priest was still talking about senseless accidents and how they somehow fit into God's plan.

Riiiiight, we'll go with that.

I scanned the rest of the crowd - some faces looked familiar from the various visits I made to Stanford over the last few years. Everyone looked sad, confused, concerned...everyone...but the blonde in the black coat. She stood at the back of the crowd, staring right at me, so I stared back, wondering what was her deal.

Then, for just a second, her eyes flickered black. I inhaled sharply and quickly glanced at my family, who was completely absorbed in the service. The demon hooked a finger at me, telling me to follow her, as she walked away. I had no choice - I didn't know what havoc it would unleash on the funeral, and it wasn't like I could shout a warning.

So I followed, my hands nervously gripping the purse, my steps careful and measured.

After a minute or two, she turned and went behind a large monument. We were a decent distance from the funeral, and I gave one last glance over my shoulder. Dad and the boys were unaware that I had left...that was both a relief and a cause for anxiety.

I found her leaning against the concrete slab, hands on her hips and a mocking smile on her face.

"Well, well...if it isn't the baby Winchester. How's Sammy, sweetheart? He holding up okay?"

"Why don't I fetch him, and you can ask him yourself?" I shot back.

She barked a laugh and flicked long blond hair over her shoulder. "Nah...don't wanna interrupt this lovely tribute. You know, with it being sacred and all."

"Is this what you wanted? Stupid chit-chat? If so, fuck you." I turned to go.

The demon stood up, grabbed me by the shoulders, and slammed me into the monument. She moved so fucking fast, I barely had time to blink. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of me. Stupid demons and their stupid powers.

That was gonna leave a mark.

She pressed her face to mine, and hissed in my ear. "You know what? I really fucking hate that Winchester sarcasm. It gets soooo old, soooo fast. I don't care if Sam's been Chosen. I'd rather just kill you all right now."

My mind reeled. Chosen? "What the fuck are you talking about?"

It tilted its head, an ugly smile on its lips. "It doesn't matter, Katie. I have a message for your daddy. Tell him Azazel knows what he's doing. And it won't work."

While the demon rattled on about this Azazel's great plans and how nothing will stop him, I reached into my bag and floundered for something useful. My fingers clasped around the crucifix Dean tossed inside, and I wrenched it out, slamming it against her face. Hissing, she released me and recoiled, frantically clawing at the ornament that was now burned onto her cheek.

I fell to the ground as soon as she let go, and was scrambling for something else in my bag, my gaze never leaving the demon whose eyes were filled with hate and loathing. Suddenly, she looked over me and froze, eyes widening with panic. I quickly turned to see what would freak out a demon and saw my dad half-jogging towards us.

That would do it.

I was simultaneously relieved (I'd never confronted a demon on my own before) and scared (was there going to be a demon-hunter showdown in the middle of the service?).

"Remember my message, darlin'." I whipped back around, only to find her gone.

I slumped back against the statue and groaned as I gingerly pressed my hand against my back. Leave it to me to find a way to steal the thunder from a funeral.

Dad slid to a halt, scanning the area before dropping next to me. "Hey...hey...you okay? What happened?" He was caressing my cheek, and checking me over. He saw my hand on my back and leaned me forward, lifting my top to see the damage.

He whistled. "Nice and pink already."

"Yeah...chick color…" I grunted, struggling to get to my feet. Dad pulled me up and dusted me off. I winced as I stood, the pain becoming more apparent every second.

"What was that?" He demanded again, eyes flickering to the funeral before focusing on me.

"It was a demon..." He hissed and looked around again. "It said that Sam was chosen or something…" Dad pressed his lips together, but didn't say a word. "And it had a message for you."

"Me?"

"Yeah...it said to tell you that Azazel knows what you're doing, and that it won't work."

The muscles in Dad's cheek twitched. "What else did it say?"

I shook my head, bending slowly to grab my bag, wincing as I moved. "Not much...the rest was just it babbling about great plans and how it hates us...then I shoved a crucifix in its face and you showed up."

Dad's face relaxed a bit and he gave half a smile. "That's my girl." Then he sobered up. "Why were you over here in the first place? You should have gotten me…"

I snorted and tossed him a derisive look. "Sure...in the middle of the funeral, I was gonna yell 'hey look - a demon!' " I shook my head. "It wanted me to deliver that message to you. If it wanted to kill me, it didn't need me to follow it behind a statue and do it in secret. I didn't want to create a scene or put anyone else in danger. We've...had enough of that."

Dad dragged a hand down his face and nodded. "Yeah...yeah okay. Just...fuck…"

"I'm fine, Dad." I looked behind the statue and saw that the service had ended, and Dean was looking for us. "It's over...let's get back before Dean has a heart attack."

Dad grunted and held me by the elbow. "Come on." He took the purse, ignoring my "It looks good on you" remark, and guided me back.

Dean caught sight of us as soon as we emerged from behind the statue. He knew something was up, probably because I was walking a little awkwardly, Dad's steady hand on my elbow. Sam was talking to Jess' parents, and didn't even notice I was missing.

After a quick glance at Sam, Dean made his way across the grounds toward us. I straightened and muttered quickly to Dad, "You owe us an explanation, though. And sooner rather than later."

He stiffened, but knew I was right. So I continued, "And you get to deal with Captain Protective over here."

He huffed a laugh.

"Hey...I got slammed into concrete for your little message. The least you can do it handle your son."

Dad released my elbow long enough to pull on my hair. I stumbled over a loose piece of dirt (I fucking hate heels…) and gasped as the bruises on my back announced their presence. Dad's grip was back, righting me easily and keeping my movement fluid.

Dean's face was clouded by the time he reached us. "What the fuck is going on?" He grated in a low voice. His eyes scanned me, noting the pain on my face before I had a chance to cover it up.

Dad sighed. "I'll fill you in later."

Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously.

Dad matched his look. "Later. Go take care of Sam. I'll meet you back at the motel in an hour. If he needs longer...just...let me know. We'll follow his lead today. Then I'll tell you everything."

"You sure he's okay here?" I asked, glancing at Sam.

"Yeah...I'll be watching."

Dean looked more confused and angry at not understanding the circumstances.

Dad handed Dean the purse. "Good thinking with the weapons." He turned to me. "Get ice on your back as soon as you can."

I nodded. "Yessir."

He leaned down, kissed my cheek, and whispered in my ear, "Good going, today, kiddo." I leaned my head against his before he stood and went to his truck.

As soon as he left, Dean dropped the bag. He put his hands on my arms, his eyes searching my face. "Are you okay? Tell me what's going on."

I sighed. "Remember how I said that packing a crucifix was stupid?"

xxxxx

Back at the motel, Dean forced me to lay down with makeshift ice packs on my back. Sam stayed behind with Jess' family. There was a small reception, and they really wanted Sam to stay, which meant I didn't have to explain why a demon was at his girlfriend's funeral.

My melodramatic, rejected half figured that it was easier for him to stay than be near me, so that's why he did. My rational half was chiding my rejected half, until Sam's eyes flickered to me before readily accepting the Moore's invitation. My rational half shut the hell up at that point.

He was definitely avoiding me.

I managed to change into sweats and a t-shirt before Dean started hovering. The bruising was now purple and ugly, the pain a constant ache.

"I can't fucking believe you had a visit with a demon right at the fucking funeral and didn't tell any of us." Dean was still muttering as he moved around the room, absently picking up things and tossing them in bags and adjusting the ice and checking the bottle of Tylenol, as if he didn't know the dosing information by heart. I knew he was trying to keep busy, as if that made up for the lack of action earlier.

I buried my face in a pillow. I was lying on my stomach, enjoying the effects of the ice, wishing he'd stop griping. "I told you already. There wasn't anything you could have done. It did what it needed to do, then left." My voice was muffled by the pillow, but he knew what I was saying.

It was the third time I explained it.

He growled and sat next to me, checking the ice, again. I turned to face him. "Oh my fucking God, stop it, please. You cannot watch me every second, any more than I can watch you. We've been over this, like, a million times. Nothing really happened. Besides, I'll take a back full of concrete over a disruption of that funeral any day."

Dean shook his head. "I shoulda - "

I cut him off. "You shoulda been keeping tabs on Sam, which is exactly what you were doing."

He paused, then looked at me. "This whole thing feels...weird."

I knew what he meant.

He didn't mean Jess's death. He didn't mean the demon chat or my being hurt. He didn't even mean Dad showing up unannounced.

Dean was in charge of Sam's emotional well-being right now. Okay, Dean's always in charge of our well-being, but this was different. When it came to the emotional crap, he always stepped back, knowing that was my territory. Now, though, it was all on him. It wasn't that he minded, or didn't want to do it, or that he'd never done it before...it's just that this is usually what I did. The talking, the listening, the holding, the comforting...that was my job.

But I wasn't being allowed to do my job. And yeah, it felt all sorts of wrong.

I slid my face back against the pillow as I realized tears were a definite possibility. "Nothing I can do about that."

Dean sighed, and ran his fingers through my hair. "Hey...you okay? Really?"

I nodded. "Feels a lot better with the ice on it. Thanks."

Dean pulled my hair. That's not what I meant and you know it.

Dean shifted so he was sitting against the headboard, legs stretched next to mine. I pressed against him and nodded. He let out a breath, and kept his hand on my head, brushing his fingers against my scalp.

xxxxx

A while later, Sam returned. Even though Dean wanted to pick him up, Sam insisted some friends would drive him.

Dean was in the bathroom refilling the ice packs when Sam arrived. I flipped onto my side and tried to look as if I didn't just do a stupid thing like twist my body with a back that was covered in bruises.

"Hey…" I said.

"Hey," was all I got back. Sam grabbed his bag and shuffled into the bathroom as Dean emerged, ignoring the ice packs he was carrying.

I dropped back against the pillow. Dean watched him shut the door and we heard the sound of the shower starting.

Dean gestured with the packs. "Turn back over and quit trying to hide it. He'll find out sooner or later." He lifted the back of my shirt and whistled. "That one spot is starting to swell."

Grumbling, I gingerly turned over, then scooted to the edge of the bed. Dean arranged the packs and pulled the blanket over me. "Fifteen minutes." I nodded and closed my eyes.

Just then, Dean's phone rang. "Huh….it's Dad…Hey Dad. … Yeah, Sam just got here. … She's doing ok…back looks nasty but I'm icing it. … Yes, I gave her pills." I knew Dean was rolling his eyes. He hated it when Dad acted like we didn't know what we were doing.

"Sure...pizza is fine. See you soon." I heard a beep, and felt the bed shake slightly as he tossed the phone down. "Dad's coming over, and bringing dinner."

I gave him the thumb's up. The extra extra strength Tylenol was kicking in and that was all I could manage.

Dean chuckled and ruffled my hair. "Take a nap, Squirt. I'll wake you when it's time to eat."

I gave another gesture at the nickname and followed his advice.

xxxxx

"No. I want to come with you."

"I know, Sam, but you can't. Not yet."

"Then when?"

"*sigh* I don't know, son."

I blinked a few times as the words registered. Obviously no one woke me, and I acutely felt yet another sting at being left out of something. This whole Demon thing was very much a Winchester thing...a full-blooded Winchester thing, at any rate. I always (kind of) understood when the topic came up and I was, even if only marginally, excluded.

But now? Everything's changed. It hurt Sam directly. There is no excuse for leaving me out.

I opened my eyes and fought against the fuzziness brought on by the pain medication. Once I had a handle on it, I slowly sat up.

"That's not good enough, Dad."

"I know it isn't, but you have to trust me right now. Look...Sam...I know how you feel…"

"No, you don't."

Oh shit.

I froze, and chanced a look towards the voices. Dean was frozen as well, a slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. His eyes were darting between Dad and Sam, and I could see that he wasn't sure what he should do.

Sam realized what he said, and clamped his mouth shut. His hands were clenching and unclenching at his side, and I could see the internal conflict playing out across his face. He didn't want to back down, but he knew he crossed the line.

Dad leaned on the table, first one hand, then the other. He looked right in Sam's eyes and said, "...Really?"

Sam opened his mouth, then clamped it shut. His jaw twitched, and his eyes were filled with tears I knew he'd never let fall.

The silence was deafening. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. I only knew something had to happen to interrupt the potential bloodbath. I quickly stood up, intending to break up the tension any way I could. My back chose that moment to spasm, and I gasped in pain.

It wasn't my original plan, but it worked. Dean dropped the pizza he was holding after a quick look at Sam, and came over. "Easy there…"

I was pleased that my objective was reached, but incredibly irritated at how. I didn't want Dean hovering, because I didn't want Sam to acknowledge me only because I was hurt. When Dean reached towards my back, I swatted his hand away.

"I'm fine. Just...moved fast. It's fine."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sam watching me, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but I shot him a look that stopped him. He snapped his mouth shut and folded his arms across his chest.

Fine.

He marched back to the table and ran his hand down his face. The family stress was taking its toll on him. He was currently powerless to diffuse any of it, and if there's one thing Dean doesn't do well, it's "powerless".

Dad stood up and walked over, his eyes lingering on Sam, who was still reeling from the one word Dad spoke. He approached me as I finished standing and gestured for me to turn around. I licked my lips and flicked a gaze at Sam. I met Dad's eyes and practically begged for him to just let it go.

But Dad has a one track mind. He took a slight detour from Sam to focus on me, and he was not to be denied.

I gritted my teeth and turned. Dad lifted my shirt and let out a low, soft whistle. I didn't need to see it. I knew it was awful.

I whispered, "It's ok, Dad. Really. I've had worse." I gently pulled my shirt down and pushed past him. I could feel Sam's eyes on me as I moved, but I walked past him and shut the bathroom door behind me.

By the time I came out, Dad was zipping up his coat.

"Y-you're leaving?" It came out of my mouth before I could stop it, and I winced at how young it sounded.

Dad sighed and looked at me. "I have some things to do, and I need to get started right away." Turning to Dean, he added, "Get to Bobby's and stay there until you hear from me. I'll be in touch in a few days."

Dean just nodded, hands now in his pockets.

Dad paused and turned to Sam, who hadn't moved since I went in the bathroom. His expression was positively livid, but he made no more attempts to argue with Dad.

"Be safe." He smiled at me, and left.

No one moved until the sound of his truck faded away. Sam picked up the chair in front of him and slammed it against the floor, rattling the bottles of beer on the table.

"Sam…" Dean started, taking a step towards him.

Sam held up one hand, and Dean stopped. He took a breath and let it out. Slowly, he walked to his bed, lay down under the covers, and turned his back on us.

xxxxx

We made it to Bobby's a couple days later. Sam declined seeing anyone else from school, including Jess's family, instead insisting that we get to Bobby's as soon as possible.

I thought he'd want the back seat so he could be alone, but he rode up front with Dean instead, leaving me alone. My own mood was becoming darker by the minute, despite Dean's attempts to help. He struggled between allowing Sam his space and wanting to throttle him for the distance he continued to keep.

Since there was nothing he could do, he turned up the music and sang the whole way to Sioux Falls.

I'd been texting Bobby what was going on, so he was prepared for the drama when we arrived. The fridge was stocked with beer, and I noticed a couple boxes of tissues lying around. You know, just in case someone wanted to have a meltdown.

The second night we were there, I was making dinner when Sam came into the kitchen. Obviously he didn't know I was there, because he actually froze when he saw me, licking his lips nervously as he tried to figure out what to do.

By this point, I'd had enough. If he didn't want me around for some reason, that's fine (well, no it wasn't, but I could start to accept it...kind of), but he didn't need to make me feel like an ass for just being there.

"What's your problem?" I snapped at him, tossing the spatula I was using in the sink and turning to face him.

He blinked at me. "What?"

"You've been avoiding me like I'm the one who caused all this." That may have been a bit harsh, but it's what came out of my mouth.

Sam's face hardened at my words. "What do you mean?"

"Seriously? I walk in a room, you walk out. I say hi, you make a face as if I spit poison at you. I reach out to you and you...you fucking push me away like you hate me. What the fuck is going on?"

I honestly didn't expect to have this conversation right then. I was just making chicken for dinner.

But I was tired.

I was tired of walking on eggshells. I was tired of re-routing so Sam didn't have to see me. I was tired of...I was tired of feeling like he didn't want me around. So if that really was the case, he needed to just say it and get it over with.

Sam clenched his jaw. "Nothing."

"Don't nothing me, you fucking liar."

Dean walked into the room. "What's going on?" He looked from Sam to me and back again, not sure where he needed to intervene.

"I'm just asking Sam to explain what I did to become the outcast in his life."

"Oh…" Dean didn't know what to say. He was curious as well, but he wasn't in a hurry to press the point. Of course he wasn't. He wasn't on Sam's shit list.

Sam huffed a laugh. "You know what? I don't need this." He turned to go outside.

I lost it.

"Excuse me? You don't need what? Need me to be here for you? Need me to help you feel better? Need me to care about you? What exactly don't you need?" I was yelling now, a week's worth of frustration and hurt pouring out in my words.

Sam whipped around to face me. "I just lost the woman I wanted to marry to a fucking demon. I'm so sorry if I'm not paying enough fucking attention to you right now."

That stopped me. "Is that what you think this is?" I asked softly. "Me being some sort of...of...attention whore?" My mind raced through everything over the last few days, trying to find proof that I wasn't that selfish.

Breathing heavily, Sam just stood there. A few tears trailed down my face. I wiped at them impatiently and waited for an explanation.

Sam's eyes filled with tears. He swallowed a few times, and his breathing was faster. "I can't do this," he whispered.

"Do what?" He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes. "Do what, Sam?" I asked again, a little more loudly.

"I can't talk to you about this!" he yelled at me, his hands in his hair showing his exasperation. "You don't understand…"

I looked at him as if he was crazy. "So what?"

He stood still, body shaking, like he was fighting against something inside him.

I pushed. "When have I ever needed to understand what you're going through to just be there for you?" I felt desperation flood through me. If I couldn't reach him now, I may never get through.

Sam made a strangling noise and wrapped his arms around himself. "I can't...I can't deal with this…I can't...I shouldn't...move on or feel better or do anything to help myself...I can't...I just can't…"

Dean took a step towards him, and Sam flinched, stepping back and shaking his head.

"Sammy...what do you mean...you can't?"

Sam continued to shake his head, avoiding Dean's gaze, and hugging himself tighter. "I should've...I should've saved her. I could've saved her. But I didn't."

Dean threw me a panicked look.

I shook my head in response. No clue…

Dean took another step. "Sammy…?"

Sam looked up at Dean with anguished eyes. He whispered, "I knew...I dreamt she would die...I dreamt she would die just like it happened. I knew...and I thought...I was being stupid...so I went out with you guys instead...having fun...laughing...all while she was being killed and plastered on the ceiling…" His voice broke and a sob escaped through his lips.

He shook his head again, cleared his throat, and fought to keep the tears at bay. His breathing was erratic, and I could see him losing the fight as a couple stray tears slid down his face.

He looked at me, and through a clenched jaw, he spat, "I don't deserve to feel better. I don't deserve to move on. If I let you in…" He paused to take a few uneven breaths. "If I let you in...I'll lose control. I can handle the anger...but I can't handle the pain. I just can't…"

The silence in the kitchen was absolute except for the sound of Sam's breathing and possibly my heartbeat.

My own anger gone, I took a couple steps toward Sam and reached out. "Sam…"

Sam cried out, and knocked my arm aside. The force threw me off balance, and I crashed into the refrigerator. Pain exploded across my back, and I saw red. Before Dean could even react, I launched myself at Sam, spun him around and grabbed his arms, pinning them to his side from behind. He twisted and turned, but his emotional state left him weak and sloppy. I kicked his legs out from under him and we both went down, crashing against the floor. I wrapped my legs around his body, completely engulfing him with my limbs and squeezing tightly, not letting him move beyond half-hearted thrashing and sobbing in frustration.

I pressed my head to his and spoke in his ear, my words punctuated with my own tears. "Listen to me. After everything we've ever been through in this fucking family, if there was ever a time for you to lose control and let me be there for you, this is it. I can't make you believe anything you don't want to believe, but I can tell you this. You can't keep this locked up inside - it's killing you. We will help you work through whatever is running through that brain of yours, whether you think you deserve it or not. We're here for you, and that is never going to change."

Sam stopped struggling, but I could feel his heart racing against his chest, and the tears were flowing down his face as he listened.

I squeezed him tighter, my voice ragged and uneven. "Your pain is eating you up from the inside, Sam...and you can't keep going like this. My heart...is breaking...for you. So I may not know exactly how you feel, but I know you hurt...and that's enough."

I loosened my grip and lay back against the floor, gasping. The pain in my back was sharp and I felt like I just ran ten miles. "Besides...there is no...fucking...way...I'm letting you end up like Dad."

Sam stayed put, even after I pulled my legs out from under him. I groaned and rolled onto my side, wiping at the tears on my face. "I fucking love you too much, Sam. I just do."

Dean crouched next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder, which was trembling with sobs.

I heard a noise from Sam - first a whimper, then a keening wail, which gained in strength until he stopped, ending with a breathy exhale. Then, without warning, he rolled over, pressed himself against me, and just...sobbed.

I pulled him to me, and cried with him, while Dean sat heavily on the floor, hands on Sam's back, rubbing in circles as tears flowed down his own face.

Sam grabbed at my shirt and clung to me, face buried against my chest, as his body heaved. Sometimes he muttered words, but I couldn't understand them. I kissed his head and made soothing sounds when I wasn't sobbing myself, and he just pushed his way closer.

We stayed on the floor for a long time, until Sam's shaking subsided and the sobbing slowed to an occasional hiccup or shudder.

xxxxx

After a while, Dean moved us upstairs, helping support Sam's weight as we made our way towards the bedroom. He directed us into their room, gently pushing Sam to his bed, and me behind him. Sam lay next to me, already curled in a ball, and tucked his head on my shoulder. His eyes were red and puffy, as were mine, and we watched Dean move around the room. No one spoke.

The outburst in the kitchen left us both exhausted.

Dean pulled a blanket over us, and sat down on the bed. He gave us a half-smile. "You two are going to kill me one day, I swear to God."

We breathed a laugh.

"Here's what's going to happen. You two need to sleep, and you probably need to talk this shit out some more. I don't care which you do first. But that's what you're going to do." He pointed at Sam. "You are not allowed to do this hiding bullshit ever again. I don't think you realize how much you hurt yourself, let alone her, by doing it. Not to mention making me uncomfortable, which is totally unacceptable."

Sam swallowed, and nodded contritely.

Dean snickered and then turned to me, "And you, with the kitchen kung-fu...I'm going to get some pills for your back. You will take them, or I will hurt you."

I swallowed, and nodded contritely.

Dean dragged his hand down his face, pulling on his chin. "Okay. I'll be right back."

After he left to get the pills, Sam and I just lay in silence. I shifted my weight so my back was a little more comfortable, and Sam readjusted his position so his head was on the pillow next to mine.

Dean returned and handed me two pills, which I swallowed with some water.

After he was sure I took them (I even opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue as proof), he grunted with satisfaction. "Now, I'm going downstairs to drink a lot of beer with Bobby. Yell if you need me."

We heard his footsteps going down the stairs, and the muffled sounds of his and Bobby's voices.

Sam let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry…" he whispered.

I sighed in return. "Me too."

Sam reached out and played with my hair. "You didn't do anything. I just...I knew that if I stayed angry...if I stayed focused on revenge...I wouldn't have to deal. It's not like I was pretending that nothing happened. Because...yeah, I was aware. But I didn't want to accept that what could have been….would never be."

His voice broke again, and I knew he was crying once more. I hugged him. "We'll get through this, Sam. But we'll get through it together. You were going down Dad's path. And we know how that ends."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

After a couple minutes, "Kate…"

"Hmmm?"

"What happened at the funeral? Dad didn't say...Dean's not talking, and I haven't...well...we haven't talked at all. So...what happened, and how the hell did you get those marks on your back?"

I stayed silent for a bit, wondering what Dad wanted. I decided I didn't care. I told him about the demon, the message it had for Dad, and how I got hurt. He lay very still, but I could feel his pulse quicken.

When I finished, he let out a long breath and sat up, moving to get a view of the bruises. He stared for a minute, put my shirt down and lack back next to me. His eyes were wet with fresh tears and he sighed. "What do they want with me?"

"I dunno, Sam. I wish I did, but I don't. We have to trust that Dad's figuring it out and he'll share with us soon."

"Do you think Dean knows?"

"No. If he did, he would've said something. That I'm sure of. He's in the dark as much as we are, and he doesn't like it any more than we do."

"But he'll do whatever Dad says, and follow along."

"That's not fair. What other choice do we have at this point? Dad's been working on this for twenty-two years. I think he has a head start on us." I pressed my forehead to his. "I wish I had answers for you."

"Me too. I just..."

"What?"

"...I just miss her, Kate. So goddamn much. Sometimes my heart feels like it's going to burst out of my chest, and I can't get enough air, and I don't know what to do...I feel so out of control…" He took a shuddering breath and gripped my shirt in his fist.

I ran my fingers through his hair. "It's okay to be out of control. We'll watch you and make sure you're safe. Let it out. We're right here with you, and always will be. I know it sounds like cliché crap, but...it's true...and it's what we can give you. Just trust us."

He nestled his face into my neck, like he always does. "You know I do."

==end==