Warning: Wincest!!! If this isn't your thing then this isn't the story for you! rated- M for later chapters. Thanks for reading :)
"Fuck" Sam hissed pulling another shard of glass from the large gash just below his rib cage. His hands shook as he dropped the bloody tweezers in the sink. Where the hell was Dean? Sam snorted at his reflection. He knew where Dean was. At the bar down the street, probably in the john, fucking some bimbo in the back stall.
Sam clutched the edge of the sink and bit his lip. Tears slid down his face, Dean has been back for ten months, ten fucking months, and he's spent more time finding easy lays then with me! Wiping his face he reassured himself it was the pain in his side that was making his eyes water and finished bandaging himself up. It looked like shit but he was used to it. Shitty cleanings, shitty stitching, shitty bandages, every cut leaving a gruesome scar because it wasn't treated properly but how are you supposed to stitch a cut on your lower back when you can't even see it? If Dean stuck around after they got back to the room maybe he would notice his brother was bleeding and needed his help. Maybe, that is, if he even cared.
Did he blame Sam? Had he really forgiven Sam for using his powers? Now that he was hunting again, living side by side with Sam, did he regret his sacrifice? Recently Sam had noticed that, when Dean thought he wasn't looking, he would stare at him with a pained expression. What was Dean thinking?
As Sam walked out of the bathroom the door opened. Dean looked up at him and froze. Sam hadn't put his shirt on. All his scars, all his cuts, bruises, scrapes were exposed. Fuck! He'll see! Sam snatched his shirt off the bed and swiftly put it on ignoring the screams of protest from his side. He looked back over at Dean who seemed to have turned to stone a look of confusion on his face. He looked as if he was debating whether Sam's busted up body was a figment of his imagination or actually real. He must have decided it was an illusion because he moved into the room and headed for the shower.
"Hey. Where have you been?" Sam asked knowing he wouldn't get a response, he never did. The shower was turned on and the bathroom door closed. Sam sighed, his chest ached, he felt alone, and he felt the way he had after Dean had died…hollow.
I can't do this anymore.
Hey, Thanks for the reviews I'm having huge writers block. Sorry it's taken so long to update. let me know what you think!!!!