A/N: To everybody who reviewed the last chapter, thank you so much!

This chapter is longer, and we're reaching somewhere in the story, so I really hope you enjoy it like the first one. This one is from Dean's POV, unlike the previous one, 'cos I didn't see any other way to get it done without going any longer, and you'll understand why. I hope you got not problem with that :)

Summary: Sometimes when you think the job is done it turns out that it's just getting started. After killing Randa Moreno, the person with Brick Holmes's heart, and stopping the deal's influence over the remaining people with his organs, Dean and Sam hit the road expecting the job was over as the following events prove them wrong. Hurt!Dean and a lot of angst including both brothers ahead.

Spoiler: Heartache 8x03 - Season 8.

Warning: For a bit of language.

Disclaimer: I own only this story, not Dean nor Sam .. more's the pity.

Beta: No one re-edited this chapter but me, so forgive me for any mistakes. :)


- Breakable -

Chapter 2

"It was like drowning, only from the inside out." ~ Stephen King

A couple of hours later Dean was stopping the car in front of another motel in another state, which he didn't pay much attention to know its name. Sam dozed off in the passenger seat once again after he woke up and asked about where they were; Dean simply shrugged and informed him that they just got out from Colorado, before his brother decided to take another nap.

Dean wasn't sure whether to envy his brother for his ability to get some rest and sleep everything off, or be grateful that Sam—with some sort of a miracle—wasn't awake to witness the two times he had almost got them both killed when his vision momentarily whitened out, making him lose control on the car, which swerved off the road dangerously before he was able to put it back on its track. On a second thought, he knew he should be grateful that this way he wouldn't have to deal with Sam afterwards.

His hands started shaking about an hour ago, forcing the weary young man to tighten his grip around the steering wheel even more. The fire his heart has been pumping to the rest of his body with his blood wasn't there anymore; instead, his heart throbbed with each beat. Even the simple act of breathing was getting harder and the deeper he inhaled the more it hurt, so he just stuck to shallow breaths and a deep one every now and then.

Not completely sure the reason behind what he was feeling; Dean concluded it might be exhaustion was starting to, finally, take a toll on him. Not only the complete exhaustion that he started to feel a while ago, but also as a result for the past few days. He couldn't actually remember when the last time he had a shut eye without the slightest sound making him jolt awake in the bed was. He couldn't remember either when the last time he and Sam had a decent meal was besides catching a cup of coffee and a bite of something here and there before sprinting back into action.

His stomach lurched at the mention of food and he thought it wasn't the smartest thing to think about right now. He debated taking a pill or two of whatever painkiller they had for his bounding head but decided against it. He still had a few miles to get to the nearest exit and he was losing focus as it is. He was half tempted to wake Sam up and tell him to take over the wheel and drive to the nearest motel he could find, but he was smart enough to know that it would make his brother start hovering.

In fact, Dean was more afraid that Sam would not start hovering. After all, Sam had told him earlier that Dean didn't need him. That he was able to take care of himself and—as Sam put it—it would be best if he was hacking and slicing through the world's crap alone.

Yeah, right. Like that had worked out just fine before! Dean thought bitterly. His heart gave a twinge, a lump formed in his throat blocking his airway as his mind drifted to every time he had to learn how to live without his brother and how he had failed miserably each time. When his breath hitched, getting caught in his throat, and his eyes stung from unshed tears, he forced the thoughts to the back of his memory where they safely belonged and chided himself for even going there.

Sam stirred awake when the rumple of the Impala faded as his brother killed the engine. A soft snort slipped free from Dean's mouth before he could stop himself; the lack of the car's soothing vibration woke his brother up but not almost going off the road and taking the car into a nosedive. He saw Sam blinking sleep out from his eyes, proceeding to adjust in his seat and stretched his long frame as possible as the small space would allow him with a low groan.

The elder hunter gave his brother a couple of minutes to take in his surroundings while he let his grip around the wheel loosen, pressing his hands flat on his thighs to ward off the shaking that didn't want to leave him quite yet.

"Get us a room while I retrieve our bags, would ya?" Dean told his brother, giving him a quick once-over. Sam nodded obediently and got out from the car, taking a minute to stretch his body before he entered the building to check them in.

Once Sam was out of sight Dean dropped his head forward, let his forehead rest against the wheel and sighed heavily. He was sure it was his thousand sigh for only tonight. He relished the feeling of not being forced to hold himself up for a moment and tried to take several deep breaths since he was starting to feel a bit lightheaded. Resiting the urge to just keel over across the front seat and spend the night in his beloved car, the oldest Winchester opened his door weakly and got out.

Although the cool air of the midnight was refreshing, once Dean was standing his left hand went to grip the roof of the car instantly as the world titled around him. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing the world to stop spinning. When he could feel the dizziness lessen he opened his eyes and closed his door with a creek. He walked on shaky legs towards the trunk and opened it, using the car frame for support all the time in case the world decided to have some fun again.

By the time Dean got their bags out of the trunk, with more effort than he would ever admit, Sam was back and walking towards him. His brother took his bag from him, ushering with the keys towards their room without saying a word. Dean was relieved he wouldn't have to walk too much or climb any stairs until they reached their room. He let his younger brother lead the way and once the door was open he almost stumbled inside, dropping his bag on to the bed closest to the door, which looked almost seducing given how crappy he was feeling right now. If he could think of anything beyond exhaustion, he would double it then start wondering if it would be close.

All he wanted at that instant was to crawl into the bed, bury his head into the pillow and let oblivion devour him. And because we don't always get what we wish for, let alone a Winchester, Dean knew he would have to take a shower first, change into something clean instead of the shirt that was still stained with his own blood before he got to lie down. He retrieved a gray clean T-shirt and a pair of clean sweatpants from his bag then stomped off to the bathroom, calling the first shower and slammed the door more forcefully than he intended to without waiting for an answer from his brother.

Finally alone, Dean leaned against the door, lacking the strength to move. He closed his eyes and waited. After a good five minutes or so, he knew his legs wouldn't hold him up very much longer and that's why he needed to hurry. He slipped out from his boots then took off his jacket stiffly and threw it on the floor next to the sink base, the rest of the clothes following suit.

Turning on the hot water to maximum, he got under the shower and let out a breathy sigh of relief at the feeling of the hot water against his skin. His relief didn't last long, though. As the hot water slid down his chest and over the spot above his heart, Dean leapt to the side and almost slipped on the wet shower floor at the needles sensation the hot water caused as it slid down where he remembered he was hurt.

In the middle of everything, he had forgotten about his injury, and right now he wasn't really interested to do anything about it. He has had worse anyway and he made it through just fine. Besides, he wasn't going to waste too much needed energy over walking outside the room to get the first-aid kit from the trunk and walk back in. Cleaning it with soap and water would do, he decided, not bothering to inspect the wound and see if there was any damage that needed tending.

By the time he miraculously got clean and dressed, Dean was drained. His heart was racing, he was sweating pockets even though he just got out of the shower, and was dizzy beyond belief. Though, he still insisted it was just the exhaustion and reached his hands towards the small rough towel that rested on the broken rim above the sink. For one terrifying moment his hand couldn't close over the material of the towel. Dean sucked in a ragged breath and tried again. On the third try, his fingers finally closed over the towel, the thought that he would be damned if that didn't scare him just a little bit wasn't lost on him. Finally, he dried off some of the sweat that still kept coming while using the sink for support to keep himself from falling. Once he raised his head and came face to face with his reflection in the mirror, Dean was taken aback by the view that greeted him.

He was surprised to find himself so pale all of the sudden, well, not all of the sudden. He noticed the pallor of his face when he first got into the bathroom but it wasn't that bad so he just ignored it. His reflection stared back at him; face ghostly white, dark circles surrounded his eyes which were bloodshot and kind of glassy. Dean took a deep breath as he put the towel down and splashed his face with cold water. He hung his head low, both hands moving to grip the two sides of the sink tightly and closed his eyes.

The world was spinning madly around him, making his head bound even more as a tingling sensation began creeping up from his fingertips to his arms, heading directly towards his heart. He still could feel his heart racing, and he couldn't hear anything above the rushing blood in his ears. He grasped at the porcelain even tighter, knuckles whitening in the process and leaned his lower body to the sink, using the support it offered to hold himself up.

It was the closest thing he had ever experienced to the time when he had the heart-attack after he was electrocuted a long time ago. And if that didn't freak him out, he didn't know what would. Dean clenched his jaw against the tremor that shot through his body and almost brought him to his knees, squeezing his closed eyes tightly as his breath came out in strangled buffs of air.

"No!" Dean hissed from between clenched teeth, not fully aware that it was said out loud. He was just about to call out for his brother before everything he was feeling was gone, as if someone had switched a button off. His legs gave way with the sudden relief and he fell to the floor on his side with a muffled thud. He didn't trust his legs to hold him up just yet, so he gave himself a couple of minutes to regain some of the strength that he doubted was still left in him, then tried to climb to his feet with the support the sink still provided.

Once upright, Dean stole a quick glance at his reflection and could have sworn that he had gone even paler. The weary hunter wasn't feeling up to face his brother right then, but he knew he would eventually have to get out of the bathroom and face the world. He took a deep breath, slipping his usual mask back in place, hoping it wasn't too transparent, and opened the door. He saw Sam's head snap up at the sound of the door clicking open before the younger Winchester stopped pacing near the small table in the far corner of the room. Dean turned his head away and centered his eyes on his target, straightening his body as much as he could and walked towards the bed as steadily as his tired body allowed him to.

Sam's eyes were following him, tracing his movements; Dean didn't have to see him to know that he was doing it. Just as he was about to drop himself face-first onto the bed, he heard Sam's hesitant and low "You okay?"

"Fine," Dean said tiredly without looking at his brother, grimacing at how weak his voice sounded to his ears.

"You sure?" Here we go. Dean thought irritably, ignoring the voice in his head that ordered him to stop thinking that Sam didn't care about him anymore. He was about to answer when his brother whispered, "You look kinda pale there,"

That's it. Sam asked for it.

"Oh, what? You care all of the sudden?" Dean asked in a mock surprise. He knew he was being lame, but he just couldn't help it. He heard his brother's sigh then the deep breath that was always followed by something Sam was tired of saying over and over.

"Of course I do, Dean," Sam said patiently, brows furrowing in frustration.

"Yeah?" Dean turned to face him, wondering where the energy was coming from given that fact that he wasn't able to stand on his own not five minutes ago. "Right! My bad," He shot heatedly, smiling in a fake apology.

Dean was waiting for this moment, he needed it. He was waiting for Sam to push it so he could punch him in the face and not feel so bad about it. But he could tell that Sam knew what Dean was looking for and that the little bastard wouldn't let himself fall for it and give him that precious chance that easy.

"Get some rest," Sam said coldly, looking him dead in the eyes then turned and walked towards the door as he said "I'll go get a beer." over his shoulder. Dean knew it was now or never, and he would be damned if he didn't use this for his advantage.

"Yeah, yeah. Go on, Sam. Turn your back like you always do," He called after his brother, making a show of preparing the bed. "Not like it isn't your style or something." He added sarcastically.

Sam spun around so fast, facing him. "What the hell, man?!" Bingo.

"What?" Dean answered, faking innocence as he looked back at his brother. "Did I hit a nerve or something?"

"What the fuck is your problem, Dean?" Sam shouted, losing what little temper he had and took a couple of steps towards his big brother.

"Isn't that pretty obvious?" Dean was getting what he wanted, even though he knew he would regret all of it later, but right now it didn't matter. His anger simply won. His aching need to fight, to break it to Sam and make him see who he really was—a hunter, and never something else—was taking over him, washing away whatever guilt he knew he was supposed to be feeling for beating the crap out of his brother over and over again even when he had all the rights to.

Dean needed to let his brother see how much his choices had cost them, how much they affected their brotherhood and shook the barely-there trust they already had. He needed Sam to see how bad they cut into him.

"My fucking problem is you!" He shouted back.

Sam scowled at him, flinching back as if the words had physically hit him. He opened his mouth to probably shout again but Dean beat him to it.

"One minute you tell me I would be better off alone facing whatever the hell we face every day, the next you say you care!" Dean took a step forward, drawing energy from the anger that was blossoming inside his chest. "One minute you're in, the next you want out even if you don't actually say it. If you want to run back to your girlfriend so bad, then get the hell on it already! No one is forcing you to stay!"

They were almost screaming, Dean thought, and they had a little time to yell at each other as much as they could before the motel manager came in to threaten them to keep quiet or he would kick them out. And he was going to use every ounce of time he got.

"No one is forcing me to stay? Are you fucking kidding me, Dean?" Sam exclaimed incredulously, completely losing control. "You have been beating the crap out of me since you got back for quitting hunting, and you dragged my ass back into it! Just like before!" Sam pointed his finger at Dean accusingly; he was visibly shaking with anger now.

Dumbfounded, Dean drew his head back in surprise at that. Just like before? He wondered how long his brother would still blame him for the life he was living, for the life he couldn't have.

The oldest Winchester took another step forward, coming almost toe to toe with the younger one. "You know it damn well, Sam! Just the way you know your own fucking name. Once you're in, there's no way out!" Dean hissed dangerously, feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks.

"There is a way out." Sam hissed back in a challenging tone. "I was out! For a whole year,"

"Yeah," Dean nodded, narrowing his eyes at his brother. "You were out while I was, literally, a walking food for every fucking creature on the mother of earth!"

He didn't know where he was going with this, he didn't know what to expect from Sam. He didn't even know what to expect from himself either. The nagging voice that kept telling him that he would regret this moment came back with a bang to his heart.

"That's where the problem lies, Dean!" Sam half shouted half whined, throwing his arms in the small space between them. "If you insist we work on this together, then you have to get over this!"

Get over this! Is he fucking kidding me?! Dean pushed down whatever big brother's instincts he had that would stop him from saying what he was about to say, what he knew was going to lead to something they both wouldn't like.

"Easy for you to say," He snarled, tightening his jaw once, hands forming tight fists at his sides. "You weren't the one running for your life for a year while I was so busy banging this Amelia chick!" He bit out with venom lacing his tone.

The part of him he was trying so hard to ignore all along made him regret the words the second they came out from his mouth but he knew it was too late to take them back. Either ways, he wouldn't take them back because the other part that was controlling him at the moment didn't want to.

The words echoed between the brothers for a long suffocating moment, other words just got trapped in their throats. Sam stared at his brother with an expression of deep hurt. Dean saw tears swimming in his brother's eyes as he stubbornly refused to offer them any kind of release and it made his heart clench for being the reason for these tears in his brother's eyes, the tears he has been wiping with his own hands all his life. But then the feeling was gone, and he found himself staring at the man in front of him with one of those looks that he knew if they could kill, Sam would be dead by now.

It never ceased to amaze Dean how his brother was capable of changing his face's expression so fast. And it was when he saw Sam's features change from hurt to furious in less than five seconds that Dean started to lose his resolve as it hit him in the face what they were both throwing at each other.

With his anger retreating, and regret coming back at him full force, Dean's exhausted body chose that moment to let itself known. His heart gave a twinge, shooting a tremor of something akin to electricity through the rest of his body. The young man still didn't want to listen to his body as it desperately screamed in its own way for too much needed rest. He still refused to back down right now despite whatever regret he was feeling.

A hell of a mixer was going inside of him. Too many Jumbled thoughts. Too many crossed feelings. Things he knew he should do and the things his old self would do were at war against the only thing he knew how to do right now. Dean wished if the floor could open up underneath his feet and swallow him up, away from the eyes that were staring at him at the moment. He wished if he could just run away and put as much distance as he could between himself and his brother. Before he said more things to regret, and before Sam said things that would just slice him up in the unique way his brother's words was always able to do.

"Go to Hell!" It came out in a strained snarl from his younger brother after a long moment of silence that had almost made Dean think Sam finally resigned to him.

Dean blinked at his brother as his vision blurred and started to see everything in double. "I did," he said matching Sam's tone and turned around, proceeding to walk towards the bed, away from his brother, away from the whole world.

"For you," He whispered unconsciously, wondering what the hell had got into him and made him start this fight in the first place. He was suddenly too tired; every part of his body was shaking uncontrollably, and his heart began beating so fast again, or maybe it was all the time but he just chose to ignore it. The room was sat in a maddening spinning around him, which forced him to keep blinking furiously.

Dean couldn't help but wonder whether Sam was still there, watching him fighting desperately for control, or had already left the room and he was standing there alone. Losing his focus on his surroundings around the bounding in his head, he promoted himself not to lose the battle against his body quite yet. If Sam was still standing a few feet away, he wouldn't lose it in front of him.

He wouldn't let his pathetic ass turn the situation to his benefit this way. He had started that fight, even though Sam's words had provoked him to do it, still he wouldn't have done it if he didn't really want to. Toppling over and ending up in a jumbled mess on the floor after having an almost fair and square fight with his brother was something he would never allow to happen.

Reaching out blindly to the bed's headboard, Dean's fingers closed onto nothing and he felt himself shutting down as everything faded to black before he even knew it. He never felt when he started to fall, never felt when his head got cracked open against the nightstand that stood between the two narrowed-size beds, and he never felt the two long, strong arms that saved him from hitting the floor in the last second.

...

-To be continued..


- Eh, cliffy much? Couldn't resist it. *Evil Grin* Don't forget to tell me what you think and review to know what happens next! ;)

Aya