A/N Hey, sorry for the update being slightly late but this week has been pretty hectic! Thanks for the lovely reviews and I hope you like this chapter, the next one is where everything will kick off so enjoy and tell me what you think!


I am fire, where's my form?
Whisper crimson I intrude
There's light beneath your eyes
New overtones in view
Endless form, endless time

4th Dimensional Transition- MGMT


Sam's eyes flicked from the wad of cash back up to his brother. There had to be at least a thousand dollars on the table. His mouth went dry as news report rang in his head. Dean pulled up a chair and began to count out the money as Sam continued to stand there simply staring at his brother.

"Man that game was a piece of cake, amateurs the lot of them." Dean said with a grin as he finished counting the money and stuffed the notes into his wallet. As Dean got to his feet Sam finally seemed to find his voice again.

"What…uh, what bar did you go to last night Dean?" Sam asked, licking his lips and flicking his gaze over to his brother who was digging around in his bag for something.

"Uhhh Lloyd's, why?" Dean asked, still rooting around in his bag.

Sam felt relief wash over him and he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and sat down on the corner of the bed.

"No reason." He said softly.

Sam felt guilty for even connecting the two but, the way Dean was acting he…he didn't understand what was going on with his brother. His mind was just too tired, the world he knew had been turned upside down, angels wanted him dead, demons wanted to help him and Dean hated him. He didn't know what to think anymore.


Sam stepped out of the bathroom letting the steam from the shower seep out through the doorway, scrubbing his hair dry roughly with a towel he walked into the bedroom. He glanced over at Dean who was staring blankly at the TV looking tired.

He wished he knew what was going on with his brother, that he knew what Dean was thinking. Did Dean really hate him for what he'd said, for what he'd done? Maybe he was just trying to detach himself from his brother, to make things less painful for him when Sam was ultimately dusted by the angels.

He wished his brother had let him die in the mud at Cold Oak, killing his powers along with him. Sam wasn't worth dying for, he certainly wasn't worth four months in hell and if he'd have just been left to die in the first place Dean would have eventually moved on, he wouldn't be the broken man he was now.

He wondered whether Dean was thinking the same things.

He looked across at his brother and balked when he saw him swigging from a bottle of Jack Daniel's, taking large gulps of the amber liquid before setting it back on the nightstand and turning back to the TV. He wasn't even trying to hide the fact he was downing whiskey at 10 am.

"Uh Dean?" He asked slowly. Dean raised his head and glanced over at Sam.

"What? I thought you liked a drink Sammy? Or did you think that a few strawberry daiquiris too many means you have a problem?" Dean asked, eyes narrowing cruelly as he took another sip of Jack leaving Sam open mouthed and speechless. He blinked quickly, disguising the wetness in his eyes. Huh, so that's how it felt to have something thrown back in your face.

"Dean what is wrong with you?" Sam asked staring at his brother.

"What's wrong with me? I'm not the one running around exorcising demons with my mind and fucking them whilst I'm at it." Dean spat back harshly in reply leaving Sam reeling. His heart in his throat, he swallowed hard and ignored the way his eyes burned and his chest felt tight.

"Do you know what, I don't know what's wrong with you Dean but I can't talk to you when you're like this. I'm sorry if this is my fault, if you don't want me around just say so. You don't need to feel obligated to stay." He replied, hating the way his voice broke ever so slightly on the last word. Dean said nothing, silence falling heavily across the room as he took another sip from the bottle and turned back to the TV.

"I'm going for a walk." Sam muttered, his words falling on deaf ears as he grabbed his jacket and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

The cold morning air hit him like a slap in the face, the burning in his eyes seeming to grow as he walked away from the motel room hearing the sharp sound of a bottle shattering against the door.

Sam clenched his jaw and carried on walking, head down and moisture brimming in his eyes as he let out a long shaking breath. He didn't know where he was going, he didn't care. He just needed to get out, get out of his own head.

Before he knew it his feet had carried him to Jack's bar, police tape cornered off the area but the police and forensics and ambulances were long gone leaving the place silent, eerie and empty.

Sam looked around, sure that no-one was coming any time soon and ducked under the police tape, walking up to the bar. Walking around the back he picked the lock to the back door easily and slipped inside.

The blood had been cleared from the floor but a dark, rusty stain still remained ingrained into the wood and Sam swallowed. Walking over the table that still remained on its side, the chairs pushed back he surveyed the area. He studied the dark wood of the table when a flash of yellow caught his eye. He rubbed a finger through the powder already knowing what he'd found before he even smelt the sickly smell of eggs.

Sulphur.

So they demon they'd been hunting had finally come out of the woodwork. Sam straightened up walked back towards the exit. At least this was something, maybe if he threw himself into the case he could focus on something else other than Dean.


The next two days passed in silence, Dean said little more than necessary to Sam spending most of his time out and about whilst Sam chased up leads, tracked demonic omens and sat at the laptop researching.

He stared down at the demon in front of him who glared up at him, arms bound and bloody teeth bared. Sam began to recite the exorcism, the familiar Latin rolling from his tongue as the demon gritted his teeth and glared up at him defiantly despite the tremors that rocked the host's form, the shudders and groans as Sam continued with the exorcism as Dean stood to the side arms folded.

Even as Sam was reading the exorcism fluidly he could sense Dean's gaze weighing upon him heavily. He glanced over his shoulder, still spewing Latin and his gaze met Dean's hard one, scrutinising him closely. He let out a chuckle and Sam's words faltered slightly, the demon grinning and Dean smirking.

"Why bother with the old fashioned way Sammy? What happened to all the psychic mumbo jumbo?" Dean asked, cruelly spitting out the word Sammy like it was a curse word rather than the affectionate nickname it used to be.

Sam flinched and finally the exorcism faltered and broke off as he stared at his brother incredulously.

"What?" He asked, trying to keep the shock and hurt from his features as Dean merely smirked back at him.

This wasn't his brother, it wasn't Dean. It couldn't be…

"I wanna see it Sammy, I want to see how much stronger and better you are than me." Dean hissed, grin still plastered across his features.

Sam stood stock still, dimly aware of the demon chuckling in the chair but his gaze reserved solely for his brother's cold eyes. It was like Dean wasn't there anymore, and it was his fault, he'd done this.

He'd sent his brother to hell and he'd broken him when he came back.

"What's the matter Sammy, can't perform under pressure or are you just embarrassed about your freaky little mind tricks? Your demonic powers?" Dean asked still grinning inanely and Sam felt tears prick at his eyes but he blinked them back, staring defiantly back at his brother before continuing with the exorcism, his words echoing around the deserted warehouse as Dean simply smiled.

"…Da locum Christo, in quo nihil invenisti de operibus tuis."

Several things seemed to happen at once, the Demon let out a loud groan and a shudder but Sam's eyes never left Dean and as he spat out the exorcism, tongue rolling over the words with ease and fluidity he saw something that made his heart stop in his chest.

As the word 'Christo' left his mouth Dean flinched, turning around and disguising his actions with a cough.

Sam stared at him numbly, his mouth going dry as he stumbled over the words losing his focus. He watched Dean walk towards the door sipping from a flask he pulled from his pocket and Sam looked back towards the demon his mind working in overdrive, barely registering the black smoke pouring from the man's mouth and the screams.

He pressed two fingers to the man's neck, relieved when he found a pulse before straightening up and beginning to untie the man's arms and legs.

He'd make an anonymous phone call for an ambulance when he got out of here but for now he had to work this out.

Christo. Surely Dean couldn't be…they had the tattoos. Maybe Sam was just being stupid, it was all just a ridiculous coincidence and Sam was being a dick by even thinking that Dean could be…

But the way Dean had been acting recently was what made these doubts whisper through his head, creeping up and hissing in his ears.

If Dean was…possessed then how long had Dean been a passenger in his own body, how long had Sam been living with a demon, not even able to tell that it wasn't his brother he was talking to, not able to help his brother who had been trapped for days.

But what if Dean hadn't flinched, if it was all in Sam's head and he genuinely just coughed, how would it look if Sam accused him of being possessed?

He'd have to make sure first, before he said anything that would probably only worsen the situation…not that it could get much worse. He'd have to make sure before Dean went on his usual jaunt to the bar.

The poker game.

No. That didn't mean…he said he was at a different bar, it was just a coincidence.

Demons Lie.

Sam shook his head and swallowed hard as he walked out of the warehouse and found Dean sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala looking tired and worn.

Sam didn't question the change in seating arrangement as he got in, spotting the flask still clutched in Dean's hand. Sam shut the door and they sat there in silence staring out of the windscreen. Finally Sam licked his lips and turned to look at his brother.

"You want to tell me what that was?" Sam asked, deciding to play it safe and test out the waters before he started throwing Christo around. He didn't want to unnecessarily make things worse.

"Sam I…I don't know I'm just…I'm tired. I'm tired of this." Dean said, sounding more like Dean than he had in weeks, the genuine fatigue in his voice was palpable. Sam swallowed doubts beginning to rise.

"I just…I can't deal with all of this, I don't know what's happening to you, to me and…" Dean trailed off, looking out the passenger window and turning his head away from Sam.

Sam watched his brother silently and felt guilt begin to rise in his gut, hot and thick. Dean was finally opening up, admitting that he was struggling. His change in personality had clearly been due to the siren incident and everything had just been piling up on the brothers non-stop. Dean was struggling and Sam was accusing him of being a demon?

"Dean, I know things haven't exactly been great at the moment but…I hate this, I hate that we're not the same people we were." Sam began. He didn't have the words to explain what this was doing to him, he didn't have the words to apologise to explain why he was doing what he was doing, why he couldn't be the Sam that he was.

"Let's just go back to the hotel, I'm beat." Dean said, still not meeting Sam's eyes. Sam nodded and started the engine, thinking that maybe there was a possibility they could work things out…maybe.


Sam absently flicked through the local newspaper, listening to the hiss of the shower and the droning of the TV. Dean hadn't really said a lot more in the car and when they'd got in he'd headed straight for the shower. It wasn't much but those few words meant that Dean was still in there, the Dean he knew.

But something was still niggling at him, that tiny element of doubt that was chipping away at Sam's newfound hope for his brother.

Christo.

He knew what he'd seen and no amount of roadside confessions or apologies could erase that from Sam's mind. Dean had flinched. Sam knew had flinched, but could that really mean…

Sam didn't know what to think anymore. His hunting instincts had always been skewed when it came to his brother and what with the recent events, he just didn't know his brother, he didn't know what to do.

He glanced at the crack in the bathroom door, they'd never locked bathroom doors because of the dangers a locked door posed if something went wrong, their Dad had drilled that into them from an early age. Unfortunately, being a motel on the crappier side of crappy, the door didn't stick and always managed to pop open.

He saw Dean shuffling around the bathroom, towel around waist and was about to glance away when he spotted something.

Dean's chest.

He didn't know if it had been a trick of the light or Sam's imagination but he could have sworn that Dean's tattoo wasn't right…

Dean came into view again as he rummaged through his sponge bag and then Sam saw it clear as day.

Dean's tattoo was completely scabbed over, red raw around the edges.

It looked like a burn.

Dean's tattoo had been burnt off.

Shit.