Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Winchesters, although if I did I would be having a much more entertaining time than writingWINK

A/N: Italics indicates Sam is dreaming

Sam writhed around in the latest hotel bed, in the latest hotel room he and his brother inhabited. Small whispers tumbled from of his mouth as his brow scrunched together. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his body. He breathed tumultuously, trapped in the grips of another nightmare.

"It's your fault Sam."

The words were like a punch in the gut, and seemed more than out of place when they left Dean's lips. His brother was acting completely whacked.

"You're the reason Jessica died. You're the reason she cried out in anguish when she burned alive."

Sam's eyes searched Dean's, combing, desperately seeking an answer, some sort of explanation to this rather personal attack. He noted Dean's tense stance and the way his hands clenched and unclenched in the dimness of their motel room. He catalogued away bits of information such as the red flush to his big brother's cheeks, the vicious yet mournful tone to his voice, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and the single tear tracking its way down…wait a minute. Tears? Crying? Dean was crying? Dean never cried, especially in front of Sam. Sam tuned himself back into Dean's rant the instant he noticed the tear. The words flew from his mouth faster and faster and he struggled to stay coherent. Sam was too confused. Why was Dean crying? And of all things, why about Jessica?

"You should've told…your fault…burned…you killed…screamed…can't do this…I loved her…"

His final three words hung in the air. 'I loved her'. Loved her? He didn't even know her! Their brief, and only single encounter, had been Dean shamelessly hitting on her for all of three minutes before Sam ushered her out of the room to give him and his brother some semblance of privacy to discuss the latest and greatest family crisis.

He shook his head in disbelief. Confusion ruled his mind as a strange gnawing sensation took hold in the pit of his stomach. Dean had grown far too quiet and his gaze was settled firmly on Sam. In that moment Sam suffered a sudden attack of claustrophobia and the walls of his motel room began to close in on them. Dean stared at Sam ferociously, harmful intent clear on his face. He could find nothing to offer Dean to calm him and simply watched as his brother shifted restlessly in place. Suddenly his instincts dawned on him. They hadn't been prominent because he had always derived a quiet sense of security from his older brother. The gnawing sensation eating away at his stomach was recognized as fear as he realized he was in danger. Fear fast turned to terror though, when it came to him that he was in danger from Dean.

"I loved her," Dean whispered. The words were laced with desolation and Dean choked back a sob. His eyes flashed with rage and he let loose the guttural cry of a wounded animal.

Sam's head smashed off the floor and he slammed his eyes shut to fight against the immediate resulting vertigo and nausea. The coppery taste in his mouth warred with the bile in his throat. A sick realization bloomed. Dean had attacked him, which was not completely out of character since they sparred regularly. But Dean had drawn blood, and there had been no regret. No stiff, quick apology followed by a trademark smile and witty quip in an attempt to receive forgiveness. There had been nothing. The ringing in his ears slowly faded and Dean's voice penetrated the fog.

"Open your eyes Sammy. Look at me damn you, you can't hide from this."

Sam's eyes fluttered open and he glared at his brother.

"It's Sam," he ground out and groaned as the bile in his throat grew dangerously close to passing the threshold of no return. His fear was fast turning to anger as he realized his brother, his protector, was becoming his tormentor. What was worse was the complete lack of anything resembling a coherent reason for the attack.

Dean immediately lashed out and his foot connected with Sam's ribs. Sam reeled from the impact as the air in his body rushed out in a magnificent whoosh. His eyes watered as he fought for control of his diaphragm and worked to bring much needed oxygen back in to his body. It seemed that Dean had failed to notice the rather intense crack that had resounded through the room after he tried to put his foot through Sam's torso. Fire tore through his rib cage and he hollered in pain. Sam was positive that if lifted his shirt right then and there that his entire right midsection would be one giant bruise. He curled in on himself and groaned as the movement set his world spinning again.

"She was too good for you, but somehow you got her. You never deserved her. You killed the most important person in my life!"

Dean continued to bellow his tirade as he circled Sam's huddled form like a piece of prized meat.

"Dean…please"

"Don't please me you ungrateful bastard!"

The plea had pushed Dean over the edge and a second assault ensued. His foot landed another devastating blow, this time to the small of Sam's back. Sam stiffened straight and rolled to accommodate the latest onslaught to his already painfully tortured nerves. Dean jumped to action taking advantage of his temporary, yet incredibly vulnerable state. Perching himself on Sam's chest Dean began planting multiple blows to his little brother's face.

Sam mentally berated himself when he realized how he had opened himself up to a much more vicious attack. Dean was currently planted on his sternum, arms flailing in a mad frenzy. He grunted in pain as he felt Dean's fist cracking his cheekbone. After several well-placed punches, punctuated by Dean's harsh accusations and insane ranting, Sam's face resembled that of a rather shoddy boxer. The brow right above his left eye was donning a deep gash, and his lip was split and swollen. Several bruises claimed large areas of his face and several more superficial cuts graced his right cheek. Blood leaked and smeared from torn flesh and trickled down into scattered puddles on the floor. Sam's attempts to block Dean's attack failed miserably. Dean's strength was being fueled by a multitude of emotions that Sam could not even come close to keeping pace with.

Then all the air in Sam's world vanished. Dean's calloused hands clamped around his throat like a vice and his elbows locked, placing the weight of his body onto his target's throat. His eyes danced with psychosis and drizzled out his agony. Somewhere in Sam's chest a match had been struck. The burning feeling expanded as his lungs worked to bring in air they simply could not get to. Sam's hands shook as he beat at Dean's chest His hips bucked and swayed trying to unseat his attacker. His feet tapped out the tune of a dying man against the worn floor. He grabbed frantically at his big brother's shirt trying anything to loosen the iron grip constricting his airways. His eyes bulged as the pressure in his head built, and tears swelled and fell down his cheeks. He silently willed his brother to snap out of it and save him. Sam's struggles became weaker as the edges of his vision fuzzed and Dean's maniacal laughter filled his ears. His arms, drained of strength, fell limply at his sides, blood trickling out of his nose. No longer possessing the will to fight, Sam's oxygen deprived body stilled beneath Dean's hands and he let his eyes slip shut.

Dean leaned in close to Sam's ear as his eyes drifted and whispered words laced with bitter vengeance, "A life for a life Sammy boy."

Sam's chest rose one final time as Dean's word's played about his ears, and then he gave in to the blackness.

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