Disclaimer: The characters don´t belong to me, but in the spirit of sharing...

Reflections after Bloodlust

TOO CLOSE

Sam didn't talk much in the car, staring out the window at cornfields. Iowa, with all the memories that came with it. For a moment, Sam thought about Rosie and Monica. Wondered if they were still okay, wondered for the millionth time about the connection between himself and that little girl. Had they averted her disaster? Sam hoped so, it gave him a little hope to think that in twenty-two years, that little girl wouldn't be wandering, so broken. Yeah, Dad, that much I can understand, he thought, with a ghost of a smile playing across his lips. I wouldn't wish our kind of hell on anyone.

Dean caught the smile, but didn't ask. Talking really wasn't something he was up for at this point and anyway, it never came out the way he intended. Sam's darkening bruise was proof enough of that. The memory of his hurt look and plea why are you saying this to me? was also pretty fresh. Jeez, buddy, I didn't mean to hurt you, he thought guiltily. And he couldn't help the thought that followed, Dad's going to be so pissed.

Nobody hits my kids, except me. Yep, there was a red neck twang in that rule, but it was one that John Winchester lived, or had lived, by. And Dean hadn't usually had a problem with it. Sam could be a pain in the ass, that much was abundantly clear, but Dean was bigger, well older anyway, and stronger. That meant he was supposed to take care of Sam, protect him. Things were definitely screwed up if Dean was the one that Sam needed to be protected from.

They kept picking at each other, rubbing too raw. They were fighting not just the external evil, but the grappling with the new darkness inside them. You didn't grow up the way they had without it changing you and you would be a damn fool to ignore the signs. Too many casualties already and no guarantee that they would make it through with their lives or their sanity. You boys are smack in the middle of it. It wasn't a good place to be and Dean couldn't help thinking that it was shitty time for their commander to give up the fight. He had his orders, though, and for the first time he was starting to question them. The thing was, he couldn't tell Sam that, not with the kid's born again enthusiasm and the fact that what he had to say would scare the shit out of them both.

The brothers were just too close. They knew each other too well, kept tearing down the defenses before they were half built. They were too hurt to do anything but limp along.

There were a lot of things that Sam wanted to take back. You don't want to go there, he tried to caution himself. A little bitter truth could be a lot to swallow. Too little too late, came the cruel echo. Sam gritted his teeth against that little gem. Yep, that hurt a lot. Dean knew, had done it on purpose. Sam could understand the impulse, felt it himself whenever Dean seemed to be doing a little better, seemed to be finding his way out of the darkness just a little ahead of him.

Something in him wanted to keep them here, where at least they were together. What was it he had said to Dad? "We're not different. Not anymore. With what happened to Mom and Jess….we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone." There had been a comfort in that, at least. And here he was again, "not all right. Not at all. But neither are you. That much I know." Oh, look, I found a common denominator, Sam thought with bitter sarcasm. Everyone you love is dead, will die, because of you.

Suck it up, he ordered, ´cause it's your fault you're feeling like this and it's your fault Dean is going through this now. Don't be a selfish fuck for once in your life. And so he sat, silently, staring at the road. And when Dean picked out a job, they went. And when he dreamed, dark and terrible dreams, he didn't reach out for his brother. ´Cause that's what Dad would have wanted. Time to grow up, Sammy. Time to do your job.