*

"Just drive, Sam."

"No, Dean! You need to tell me! I need to hear you say the words! Did you just screw that girl?"

"What if I did, would you be jealous?"

Silence. The brothers look everywhere but at each other.

Then, Sam breaks.

A sharp laugh barks out of his throat, jagged and raw and ends on a sob that catches in his chest, "Is that all that matters to you, that I'm jealous? Ok, Dean. I admit it, I'm jealous, ok?"

Sam's voice is rough, harsh, "I'm so fucking jealous I can't see straight and all I want to do right now is kick your ass because you did this to me, to us! I wanted to rip that girl apart for just touching your hand, you son of a bitch! Even if you didn't sleep with her, you left with her, in front of me, and you knew what it would do to me! You knew how much it would hurt me and, yeah, Dean, congratulations, you did it! You hurt me, ok? Guess you got what you wanted."

"Sam-"

Sam rakes back his bangs, his face working with emotion, struggling to keep his voice low when all he wants to do is scream at the top of his lungs at Dean, rage at him until he's hoarse and empty of this awful crushing hurt that is eating him alive, making him wild with anger and pain, "You cut me down, man, brought me to my knees and proved your point! You were right, Dean. Guess you showed me, huh? Happy now?"

He finally looks at Dean, eyes huge, swimming with unshed tears, the hurt shining out of them, and his breath gasps out of his chest as he grits out the words, "You went with her…even after you saw me there, even when I asked you not to!"

Dean raises his eyebrows and starts to speak but Sam cuts him off, "Oh, come on! You knew what I meant when I said please, so don't even give me that dumb confused look, you bastard! What I don't understand is why! Why?"

Sam's voice drops to a whisper and he opens up his hands, giving Dean a lost and bewildered look, "It wouldn't have hurt so much if it was an accident or something that just happened. But you…you meant to do it, it's what you set out to do and I don't understand what I've done to you that would make you want to hurt me like this. Why would you do this to me?"

Dean says softly, "Sammy, I'm sorry, I…" then shakes his head but says no more, leaving the silence between them growing until it's pulsing, pounding in Sam's ears.

Sam feels the tears start falling and he swipes at them angrily, blinking his eyes to stop crying. Suddenly, the hurt dealt him at Dean's hands overwhelms him and he can't cope with it. It's so huge and painful that it leaves him out of breath, a hard lump that burns in his chest and he can barely even look at Dean. He lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes flicking up to Dean's and down again, the lump making it difficult to speak. He slaps away another tear rolling down his cheek.

He needs to get out of here, away from Dean before he explodes and shouts things he knows he'll regret, awful things that are bubbling up inside him. He needs to find someplace to hide, lick his wounds and figure out what he needs to do next. He can't think now, not with Dean so close and everything so sharp and new.

Giving his brother a scathing look, Sam gets out of the car and pops the trunk. He takes out his duffle bag and some weapons, filling pockets with necessities, swings the bag over his shoulder and starts walking away, head high, hands shoved into his pockets, not looking back.

He hears Dean's voice behind him, "Sam, get in the car!"

"No." Sam starts walking.

"SAM!" Dean yells and Sam stops, turns to look at his brother.

Dean is standing in front of the car, hands on hips, staring him down, "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Away from you."

"No, you're not."

"Try and stop me, Dean."

"We'll talk about it at the motel, Sam. Let's go."

"No."

Dean's voice is threatening, "Sam, I'm telling you to get in the car. Now!"

Sam stares at Dean for another second, hefts his bag into a more comfortable position and turns away, walking towards the bar and beyond it, the highway.

"Son of a bitch! Look, Sam, you're already walking a thin line! You were being a patronizing shit to me before and now you're going to disobey me, too?"

Sam yells back over his shoulder "Disobey you? Dean, you're not Dad so stop trying to act like you are."

Dean hollers after him, "I may not be Dad but I'm older than you and I can still whip your ass! Sam! Stop walking!"

Sam keeps going, ignoring Dean. He hears his brother's shout, "Alright, Sam! When we get back to the motel, me and your ass are going to have another discussion about correcting your disrespectful attitude!"

Sam whirls around and stalks back towards Dean, his temper boiling over, "My attitude? Where the hell do you get off talking about my attitude? My attitude was respectful until you started in on this jealousy shit! And I'm not the one who just went and fucked some chick to prove a point! I mean, Dean, what the hell, man? Is this a game to you or something? Do you have any idea what you've done here?"

"I haven't done anything that you didn't expect, have I? I'm just following my nature, like breathing, remember? I can't control myself and you know how I flirt and sleep around, it's just who I am, right? I'm not as good as you are, I guess, at hiding my feelings and not showing anything at all. You're like a fucking stone and all I wanted was something from you to show that you loved me like I love…shit, Sammy…" Dean's voice trails away and he searches Sam's face for understanding.

Sam rubs his hand across his aching forehead, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before asking quietly, "And me kissing you, tasting you, touching you all over, with my fingers, with my mouth, doesn't show you that, Dean?"

"It does, Sam, when we're alone. But, when we're out…"

"What? You want people to know about us, about what we do together? Tell me, Dean, what would you have done tonight if the situation was reversed? What, would you have gone up and popped the bartender in the mouth or something? Would you have dragged me out of the bar by my hair? What? Tell me what I should have done!"

Dean's eyes glitter into his, his mouth angry, pressed into a thin line. He takes a calming breath in and then replies silkily, "I would have sat down at the bar right next to you, so you could see me. I wouldn't have hidden, like you did. I would have put my hand on your leg and whispered in your ear that I was going to fuck you so hard once I got you home that you wouldn't be able to walk for a week and then I would have told you step by step just how I was going to do it. By the time I got done, you'da forgotten all about the nice lady behind the bar and would only have eyes for me. That's what I would have done. That's what I wanted you to do."

Sam stares at him, a deep sadness welling up in his heart, "That's not me, Dean. I'm not like you and I wouldn't have ever done that. I want you to make the right choice on your own without me having to get in your face, without me being in the way. I guess you're right. I can't give you what you need. I'm sorry. I am a stone, and right now, this stone is cracked and bleeding and I need to go away from here, away from you so I can think about things, decide on what to do."

"Sam-."

"Dean, you told me that you wouldn't try to stop me if I wanted to leave after you gave me the spanking."

"I know I-"

Sam interrupts him, "You said "If you need to leave and be on your own after this is finished, I won't stand in your way", right? Didn't you say that?"

Dean's voice is harsh, "I know what I said, Sam! You don't have to repeat it back to me like I'm some kind of idiot! I seem to recall you saying you could never leave me. Isn't that what you told me?"

Letting out his breath in a rush, Sam's shoulders slump dejectedly, "I guess I was wrong, Dean. I guess I was wrong about a lot of stuff."

He turns to walk away and Dean's hand is on his shoulder, pulling him around and before he can think, Dean is there, so close, so warm, his familiar scent filling Sam's head with wanting, with need and Dean's lips are on his, feather-soft and delicious, pushing open Sam's mouth gently, tasting, touching his tongue to Sam's, causing flickers of desire to shoot down into his belly.

Dean's hands are running up and down his body, touching, caressing, making Sam tremble, hungry for more, always more of Dean's fingers on him.

His hands moving down to Sam's crotch, Dean squeezes gently, massaging Sam's dick through his jeans, making his brother moan and rub back against his fingers. He deepens the kiss, his tongue swirling and sliding into Sam's mouth, making his brother dizzy with desire and Sam is shamelessly rubbing himself against Dean's hands, hips thrust forward, body shivering with heat.

Dean breaks the kiss and Sam can feel his lips are still so close, almost touching his own, and he can feel Dean's breath on his mouth, his whisper on his cheek "Please don't go, Sammy. We can talk about this, work through it. Just don't-"

Sam's already shaking his head, eyes closed tight against the tears that have welled up again with no warning, "I can't stay…I can't stay…"

He leans in to kiss Dean lightly and then pulls back, pushing his brother away, "I love you, Dean. Please don't forget that."

"Sam, don't..."

Sam steps back and wipes his mouth with his hand, squares his shoulders and pushes away the doubts, "I have to."

He hefts his duffle up, turns and walks away, more determined than ever. This time, he doesn't stop, doesn't look back and doesn't falter, just continues going where he knows he must.

Away from Dean.

*