Gasping as the wind was knocked out of him, both through the exertion of throwing himself over his brother and the inferno that was the spirit combusting in front of him, Dean swooned slightly. The burning orange glare bore through his closed eyelids, as the heat radiated throughout his body. As soon as it began, as these things tended to do, it was over.

Letting out a slow lungful of air, he scrambled off of the prone figure that was his little brother and ran scrabbling hands over the kid's singed clothing. Relief flooded through him as he expertly came to the conclusion that the only injuries Sam had suffered were to his already scruffy outfit. And his pride. Hauling the younger Winchester to his feet, none too gently either, he clenched his jaw as he looked him up and down.

"If I had come through that door one millisecond later, you would have been a dead man," he hissed, jerking his head in the direction of the barn's decidedly dilapidated entrance. "Move it. Now." Without waiting to see if he was going to be obeyed, Dean stormed from the farmhouse setting where he had tracked and saved his hard headed, now apparently suicidal sibling. For the first time he had been glad of gawping, gossiping locals. Without them, he wouldn't have found the boy in time.

Rounding on his beloved car, it was a slight mollification that she at least was none the worse for wear. Wrenching her keys out of the outstretched hand of his sheepish looking brother, he kicked the car into gear and tore from the abandoned property. His teeth were protesting painfully as he ground them, but all in all, he considered it a better prospect that wringing Sam's neck. But only just. Feeling his brother squirm slightly beside him, his teeth ground all the more furiously.

Thundering along the dark roads, he held up an immediate hand when Sam opened his mouth. "Don't," he bit out tersely, "don't you dare try to justify what you did. Especially when I'm driving, because I may just kill us both." Snapping his mouth shut, the younger Winchester slouched in his seat and dropped his gaze to the floor. The idiocy of his actions was obvious to him now. To go after an unknown, with no back up, in the throes of subterfuge…was a massive no-no.

Always had been.

He shook his hair out of his eyes and sighed quietly. He knew he was teetering on the edge of anarchy, but Jess' face consumed him. Her blood seemed to always drip upon him in his dreams, in his quiet moments…hell, any time he wasn't specifically thinking about something else. He couldn't escape her, and it was making him desperate, he knew that. He knew the lead he had run down tonight was about as related to Jess' death as a cat to a mouse, but he just couldn't help it. He'd been mad as all hell when he'd stormed out of that motel room, and as he looked at the tight set jaw of his brother, he knew that he was going to lose the anger war.

Dean was pissed.

Royally pissed, which for the elder Winchester, was nuclear level pissed.

His hand drifted absently over the holes in his clothing, and his opinion of his asinine behaviour continued to plummet. He was never the irrational one, or the impulsive one. That was all Dean's department. Feeling the way he felt now, he briefly wondered how his brother didn't simply explode with all the damned "what if's," that came with a hot headed decision. Looking out the window at the passing swirl of trees, he groaned internally.

He just wanted to sleep, now. To go to sleep and pretend tonight's fiasco was nought but a bad dream.

All too soon, the well worn car screeched back into the lot it had vacated only two hours previously. Jumping out without a seconds glance, Dean barrelled into their motel room, leaving the door wide open behind him. Sighing, Sam slowly climbed out and trudged in after him. When he closed the door behind him, his soft sigh turned immediately to a loud groan.

Dean, was pacing again.

Pointing to the sofa, the elder of the brother's raised an expressionless brow.

"Sit."

Usually, in most other circumstances, Sam would have baulked at the idea of being spoken to like a dog, but with the fire raging in Dean's eyes, he merely threw himself down as directed. Looking up through his tangled mop of hair, he held up a placating hand.

"Look, I know. Alright? I know. I shouldn't have done it, it was a bad idea and a bad call. It won't happen again, and uhh…. nothing happened to the car so…" He trailed off, the words dying in his throat as he quailed under the now murderous look being shot his way. It was the look that was generally reserved for things that possessed yellow eyes, not for…not for him.

"You think that my main concern is the car, Sam?" Dean said softly, a dangerous tinge coating his words as he stared steadily at his sibling. "You think…I'm this mad, because you took my damned car?" He shook his head in complete and utter exasperation, running a hand through his hair in equal frustration. "You're the smart one Sam, surely you can tell why I'm this close to wringing your goddamned neck!"

Smart or not, Sam wasn't all that sure he could tell any such thing.

"I told you to stay here," Dean growled, "I told you that I would listen to your theory, and then maybe, we might go together. Instead you take a joyride all on your lonesome, to chase a lead so thin it makes my butt look three sizes bigger! What in the hell was going through that head of yours? What do you think Dad would say and do if he were here, huh?!"

At this, a certain coldness spread throughout Sam, and he looked up coolly.

"Look around, Dean, he isn't here…and you're not him, so where do you even get off lecturing me in the first place? You turn up at my place…in the middle of the night…and drag me back into this hellacious life and then think you have god given right to lay into me? Well," he scowled, "you don't. I get that what I did was stupid, and it won't happen again. So for the love of god, can we just leave it at that? Before you give us both a migraine."

Dean gaped.

"How can you even say that?" he asked, his tone so quiet Sam had to strain to even hear him. "We've already lost our mother, hell, maybe even our father to this goddamned demon. Yet you have an attitude about the fact I'm upset that you're practically offering yourself up next?" He shook his head in infuriated amazement. "You got some neck little brother, damnit, if that was me out there tonight, I wouldn't here the end of it for months."

The cold expression on Sam's face instantly dissipated, as he looked down at the floor shamefacedly.

"I'm sorry, ok," he repeated, this time without an attitude, "I know what I did was stupid. I knew it the minute I left this place, but I couldn't seem to stop myself." He took a breath and a ran a hand over his face in frustration. "You're right, it would be a different story if it was you and I know I would be the first one to harp on about it for weeks." He smiled a small crooked smile in the direction of his heavily irate brother. "I give you my blessing to give me a pain in my ear for the next…oh, I think three or four weeks is fair deal?"

The look on Dean's face would have soured milk straight from the udder.

He shook his head silently, willing himself to find the words and the strength to action the action.

"No Sam," he murmured, "I have no intention of giving you an earache." He teeth clenched at the relieved expression crossing his brother's face. "I do however…have every intention of giving you a fairly…significant pain… in your butt." The look of sheer blankness on his little brother's face would have been humorous at any other time, but in the current moment…it just made Dean's stomach that little bit tighter.

The kid stared.

…and stared. Before, eventually, finding his voice.

"Come again?" he croaked, pushing his hair out of his eyes so he could hear better. Because what his brother had just said, had just implied…was surely indicative of a serious hearing problem on his behalf. Across the room, Dean flushed, but kept his nerve, and a steely gaze on his younger sibling. Raising a brow, he folded his arms across his chest and took a deep breath.

"You heard me," he replied quietly, "when I asked you what do you think Dad would say if he were he, I wasn't joking. You know, and you've always known, that when it comes to the hunt. When it comes to making dangerous calls, I take the final word. I'll listen to you Sam, hell you know I'll always listen to you…but, but well I've been doing this longer than you. When we were kids, when you've been away at college, I've lived this life. I will be damned if you die on my watch because you're too angry or bull-headed to listen to reason."

He ran a hand through his hair in awkward frustration.

"You know exactly what I'm saying here Sam," he continued slowly, "it's not as if it's the first time I've had to pull you back onto the reservation. Believe me…I'd rather do anything else…and I do mean anything…" his voice cracked somewhat, as he pushed on. "But you're my little brother and I don't know what I'd do if anything were to happen to you…that maybe, just maybe I could have prevented." His gaze found the floor, as the flush heightened to a scorching degree in his cheeks."

"I can't lose you, Sam, not because of… something like tonight. I just…I just can't."

With that, he lost the art of speech entirely and stood awkwardly, never wanting his father to materialise out of thin air more than he did in that moment. Over in the other side of the room, a similar emotional surge was thundering out the younger Winchester. He knew exactly what his brother was referring to, and he knew he wasn't wrong in his assertions that it wouldn't be the first time. His face took on a crimson hue, as he wrestled with himself. The guilt ridden part of him screamed at him that he deserved it, and that it was no different than what their father would do if he were there.

The self preservation side of him screamed that Dean wasn't his father, and he sure as hell didn't have the right to treat him like he had done when he'd been a less than cooperative teenager. Biting his lip, he studied his hands and wished he could just go to sleep. Peeking a look up at his sibling, he sighed when he caught the look steely determination in his eyes. This…was clearly something he'd given a lot of thought to.

"This is ridiculous," he heard himself uttering weakly, "you're not Dad…you don't have the right to…to…" he trailed off, the flush in his face rising dramatically. Across the carpet, Dean smiled with a tangible sadness. "I know I'm not Dad," he said softly, "but I also know we're all we got. And I also know that you know that what you did was wrong and that you deserve to find sitting a little harder than usual for a while. Whether you're man enough to admit that and take it," he shrugged slightly, "that's up to you. I won't force you, I'd never force you…but, I think you know what's right and what's wrong Sam, and I think you know the decision you have to make."

With that, he sat himself down on the side of his bed and also studied his hands, wondering how in the hell they'd wound up where they were. He didn't know what he'd do if Sam refused. He meant what he'd said, he would not force him. But…he couldn't go on as if nothing had happened, either. The kid had royally screwed up, and he knew his brother well enough to know that without some of penance, without some concept of punishment…his actions would eat him up. Which in turn, would spur him into even more poor decision making. His gut clenched at the thoughts of it.

At the same time, Sam was warring with himself.

The thoughts…the sheer thoughts of being sp…punished, being punished by his brother made him squirm where he sat. Despite the fact that they'd been there and done that, it had been a long time since that era. Chewing his lip, he assessed the level of guilt he felt and groaned when it registered as sky high. He had put his brother through unnecessary fear and anxiety….and but for him, the likelihood of him surviving his solo adventure was in the toilet. He probably would have died tonight, and then Dean…would have literally no one.

Not a father he could count on. Not a brother he count on. Hell, not even a distant cousin Barry he could call on. He would be alone, all alone in this screwed up world in which they lived, and all because he'd had a…tantrum. He blushed deeper as he considered his actions, being utterly unable to defend or justify them. He'd acted like a child. His father's frequent intonation of "act like a child, and I'll treat you like a child," fluttered around his mind as he thought. Glancing at Dean, who was still staring at the ground, his stomach clenched as he felt the waves of fear and uncertainty that still billowed from him.

He didn't want to do this as much as he didn't want it to be done.

Swallowing, Sam knew that there was only one decision he could live with. There was only one decision that would alleviative the pit of guilt in his stomach. Standing, albeit with a grimace, he crossed the room to where his brother sat. Taking in a deep breath as his sibling looked up with a questioning brow, his jaw set in a hard line as he steeled himself.

"You asked me what do I think Dad would say and do if he were here?"

Dean nodded numbly.

"He would blister my butt," Sam continued evenly, "and I wouldn't blame him."

He took another shuddering breath and looked the elder Winchester dead in the eye.

"And I wouldn't blame you, either."

Dean exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and nodded quietly. A surge of pride was barrelling through him as he looked at his brother and realised how hard it must have been for him to cross the room. Without another word, he carefully reached out and took a hold of the kid's wrist. Scooting back on the bed, he gently pulled a red faced, but compliant Sam over his knee, and wrapped a firm hand around his waist.

When he spoke, his words were quiet, and to the point, but they rang with a deafening sincerity.

"Damned proud of you, Sammy."

…and then he raised his hand high.

….

FIN

…