A/N: So here's that sequel to Let Go I promised you guys! Sorry for the delay, RL likes to attack me when I'm not looking...This one is currently a WIP, so I'll just apologize in advance for further delays! Thanks as usual to my LLS for the beta, and to all you guys for your patience. I hope you enjoy. :D

I DON'T own Supernatural or Sam or Dean or anything interesting, so...yeah. lol

Just a reminder, this story is told from one POV of the brothers in each part, separate sections. Oh, and you'll probably have to read Let Go first to get this one. Thanks again!

Laugh, I Nearly Died

Ch. 1 After the End

SAM

Sam was good at hiding. When they were younger, he'd always been able to scare his brother to death with a friendly game of hide 'n seek that got too competitive. Dean would search and search for him, but his then tiny form could fit conveniently in the most obscure of places. Sam always won, and Dean always seemed relieved when the game was over. He used to think it was because he hated to lose (which he did), but now Sam knew better.

Though they were much older now, and Sam certainly couldn't squeeze himself behind the refrigerator anymore, it wasn't to say he was out of practice. Sam had spent his whole life hiding parts of his past, present, and future from his friends, professors, even his own family. It was almost second nature to him, the lying and half truths, and it wasn't something he was particularly happy about. Then again, his personality had enough variations without the fake IDs and credit cards to prove it.

There was Sam the Pre-law student at Stanford and Sammy the Geek-Boy little brother. Sam, the man who couldn't stop the flames from consuming his girlfriend, Sam the orphan, whose mother died for him, whose father died without him. And the person he was lately, filled with twisted half-thoughts that seemed foreign, yet inarguably were his own. And then there were the times when it was hard to remember who Sam was at all.

He was sitting, contemplating this latest personality development, idly wondering whether or not it was a sign of schizophrenia, when the motel room door banged open and the soaking wet form of his brother crossed the threshold.

"Is it raining?" asked Sam absently, still partially immersed in his thoughts.

"No, dude. I just felt like doing a little resistance swimming." replied Dean sarcastically, shutting the door and pulling the soggy paper bags of food out from under his coat. "We got mush and…mush on bread. Yum."

Sam gave a small smile as he stood and walked over to where Dean had thrown the bags on the table. Retrieving his burger and a bottle of water from the mini fridge, Sam moved from the table and started up the laptop.

"So I think I found something about two towns over,"

"Yeah?" said Dean, about half of his own burger already stuffed in his mouth, "'Nother demon?"

"No. It looks like a regular old angry spirit, emphasis on angry. Three people have already died, but in different locations." replied Sam, searching for the relevant articles as he spoke.

"So we salt 'n burn its ass and go off on our merry way." answered Dean as he started on his box of fries, cramming four into his mouth.

Sam didn't respond to Dean's bravado, choosing instead to continue in his explanation as though uninterrupted. "Different locations, Dean. Which means it might be multiple spirits. Who knows how many, or where they're buried."

"Details, details." smirked Dean. "So when are we blowing this popsicle stand?"

Sam attempted a small smile at his brother's ability to completely catch him off guard with his little phrases and references. If there was one thing about Dean, it was that he was never at a loss for words. Shaking his head slightly, Sam responded, "Whenever you want to. I don't really care…"

"Well we're not going tonight. I've got important business to attend to elsewhere. Tomorrow."

Sam knew that, of course, 'important business' was in actuality a 'really hot date', but he kept any comments about Dean's nighttime activities to himself. Ever since he'd made that deal, Dean had been more gung ho than ever in his chase of the fairer sex. And just because the deal was null and void now didn't mean he had to slow down any time soon. Sam didn't really mind it, as the more time Dean spent on 'business', the less chance he had of noticing the slow change in his brother's demeanor.

"That's fine."

"You sure? 'Cause we could go sooner if ya want. Chick in every port and all that."

"I said it's fine." said Sam, perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary. He was tired, and the longer he stood here talking with Dean, having these pointless conversations, the more he wanted to just—Calm down, Sam told himself, pushing fragmented thoughts out of his mind, or at least to someplace hidden. Then, forcing a level of casualty laced with the slightest of apologies, "You go. Have fun. I'll be here and we'll leave in the morning."

Dean paused for a moment, scrutinizing his brother's features. He looked as if he was about to say something, but stopped himself and said instead, "Well, I'm gonna go get a hot shower. Feel like freakin' Frosty the Snowman."

With one last glance back at him, Dean turned and closed himself in the bathroom.

Finally, Sam found himself thinking when he was once again alone in the room, quickly followed by a wave of confusion as to where such a thought had come from. The relief that Dean was going to be alright, that he was saved, was quickly dissipating, leaving an increasing amount of awkward silences and failed attempts at normalcy in its wake. And for the life of him, he couldn't grasp the reason why.

Sam rubbed absently at the jagged scar on his back, fingers running over the marred skin as his mind did the same with the thousand plus thoughts ripping through his head.

This isn't right.

He's okay, you're okay, so why can't you just shut up and friggin' enjoy it?

Not supposed to be that way.

How do you unflip a switch? What if I can't?

Doesn't care. Trust. Look at you.

What would I have done if--?

"Great." Sam said out loud to the empty room, mind clearing with a quick shake of his head. "Now I'm arguing with myself. And talking to myself…"

Throwing the rest of his uneaten fries into the bin beside the door, Sam moved to his duffel and grabbed some sweats to change into. The bed was lumpy and he was pretty sure there was a spring sticking out of the lower left side, but at least it was warm. Shrugging the last remnants of fractured thoughts out of his mind with a low murmur of schizophrenia, Sam lay down and turned off the lamp closest to him.

Finding himself unexpectedly drowsy, Sam slipped into an only slightly fitful sleep before the shower even stopped running.

DEAN

Finding things. Dean was good at it. He could find out what was wrong with the Impala with the briefest of inspections, find his prey on a hunt with the ease of a lion on the prowl. He'd find, examine, and put the pieces back together. Especially when it came to his little brother. It had been that way since they were kids, Sammy would need something and Dean would get it for him. He could find anything.

Ironically, the only things he had ever had trouble finding were also linked to that little brother of his. It used to be Hide n' Seek, that stupid game Sam was always way too good at to be allowed. The freakin' kid was too tiny, could've fit inside the walls if he'd wanted to. Dean would never admit it to him, but those times were some of the scariest in his life. Sammy was his responsibility, Dad always told him to keep an eye on him, never let him out of your sight no matter what. And there he was allowing Sam to go run off and disappear. Too much stress for a kid. Man, he hated that game.

Only ever played it 'cause Sammy loved it so friggin' much.

Of course, that's just the way it was. Always had been. Dean's the older brother, and he'd do anything to keep the little one happy. Even though the 'little one' now towered over him and could probably match him pound for pound in muscle, maybe even beat him. But it didn't matter because that's just who Dean was, of that he was sure.

So, as he drove his prized possession back to random dingy motel number who-the-hell-knows-anymore, he contemplated just how exactly he would do what he did best. Because there was something wrong with Sam, something missing. Something he had to find.

Ever since Sam had done…whatever it was he did to get him out of that deal, he'd been different. Little things at first, like snapping too quickly or being quieter than normal. If he was honest with himself, Sam had really started changing when Dean brought him back from the dead. But Dean was also very good at lying, and he promptly told himself it was a more recent problem.

Determined to get to the bottom of things, Dean parked the Impala, grabbed the bags of food from the Samless passenger seat, and ventured out into the pouring rain.

Dean ran to the door of their mercifully close room, and fiddled with the keys as his pretty much useless coat prevented about three percent of the rain from soaking him in entirety. Finally working the lock and praying Sam hadn't put the latch on the inside, Dean unceremoniously opened the door and rushed in to escape the elements.

There on the bed was Sam, seemingly staring intently at absolutely nothing at all, no doubt thinking thoughts Dean couldn't even begin to fathom. Or maybe he just didn't want to.

"Is it raining?" came Sam's almost dazed question, eyes not moving from whatever it was they were glued to.

Tilting his head slightly and discreetly giving Sam a quick once-over, Dean replied with a smirk, "No, dude. I just felt like doing a little resistance swimming."

He turned to shut the door, muffling the storm outside and leaving the room suddenly and oppressively silent. Feeling the need to do something, Dean rummaged through the now rain and grease covered bags he was holding. "We got mush and…mush on bread. Yum."

Dean threw the bags on the table and shrugged off his coat. He watched as Sam finally showed signs of life and moved toward the food.

"So I think I found something about two towns over," he stated, fully out of his trance now and back on the ever present laptop.

"Yeah?" interjected Dean, taking a bite out of his burger. "'Nother demon?"

"No. It looks like a regular old angry spirit, emphasis on angry. Three people have already died, but in different locations." responded Sam as he proceeded to type away at the keyboard. Dean sometimes thought he spent entirely too much time on the thing, but nobody could argue the kid's knack for research.

Starting in on his fries, Dean's mind slipped slightly into hunter mode as he processed what his brother had told him. Vengeful spirit, nothing new. The hundred or so nasties that had gotten out of hell a little over a year ago were nearly rounded up it seemed. Back to the basics then…"So we salt 'n burn it's ass and go off on our merry way."

"Different locations, Dean. Which means it might be multiple spirits. Who knows how many, or where they're buried." said Sam in exasperated tones. A familiar roll of his eyes soon followed.

"Details, details." retorted Dean with another smirk, internally grateful for the returning banter, however weak it may be. "So when are we blowing this popsicle stand?"

Sam's lips twitched in the slightest shadow of a smile as he shook his head slowly. "Whenever you want to. I don't really care…"

"Well we're not going tonight. I've got important business to attend to elsewhere. Tomorrow." said Dean. Hehe, business, he thought to himself, the image of a smokin' hot brunette floating across his mind. Yeah, definitely tomorrow.

"That's fine." replied Sam monotonously, not even bothering to look up again.

Something about Sam's sudden indifference rubbed Dean the wrong way, and he began instantly to reevaluate his date plans. If something was up with Sam, the girl could wait. Since when was Sam submissive in any situation? And wasn't he complaining about getting out of this dump just yesterday?

"You sure? 'Cause we could go sooner if ya want. Chick in every port and all that." tried Dean, gauging his brother for a response.

"I said it's fine." spat Sam, an unprovoked anger flashing behind his usually kind eyes. Then, "You go. Have fun. I'll be here and we'll leave in the morning." he added in an all too obviously forced tone of calm.

Dean felt a small shiver run up his spine at his brother's words, but quickly blamed it on the five gallons of water he was currently sporting on his clothes and skin. Stopping himself from making it worse with another question, Dean said instead, "Well, I'm gonna go get a hot shower. Feel like freakin' Frosty the Snowman."

Hesitating just a moment to notice the—was that relief?—expression on his brother's face, Dean turned to his duffel for some dry clothes and moved into the bathroom.

Something was definitely up. Sam's mood swings were little quirks in his personality, but this…this was different. Was the yellow eyed demon right about him? What really happened on those crossroads? Did he not want him around or something? Shut up, moron. He's fine, you're fine. Just leave it alone! came Dean's inner dialogue, the part of him that desperately needed things to be alright again.

Leave it alone. Ignore it and it will all go away. "Sounds like a plan," said Dean aloud, turning the hot water on and removing his sopping wet clothes.

Yeah. 'Cause that always ends well.

TBC