Chapter 3

"Sammy, please-"

Click

Sam opened his eyes wide searching Dean and then the room for some explanation.

The gun removed itself from Sam's forehead as Dean was the first to realize he once again had full control over his body, the drive to shoot his brother relinquished with the pull of the trigger. Dean's eyes hardened as he brought the butt of the gun squarely and surely to his brother's temple. Sam slumped to the ground as consciousness fled his body as surely as reason had moments before.

Awareness returns slowly and, without doubt, painfully. Sam reaches up to grasp his head and ask his brother why Dean let him drink so much last night. His hand comes up short. Sam opens his eyes as memory returns with a burst of pain. Sam sweeps the room searching for his brother.

Dean regards his brother with hooded eyes. The anger that he felt towards his brother slowly ebbed away as he handcuffed Sam to the bed and periodically removed all potential weapons from the room. The bullet from the gun lay in his hand. While Sam was still out he'd made a trip to the pawn shop and gotten rid of his favorite gun. Dean didn't remember how much he got for it. It doesn't matter. Dean can only think of one use for the money, and that cash is going to get him very drunk after this is over.

"So now that I have your undivided attention. How bout you tell me what's going through your head. There aren't any weapons, so don't ask." The inflection carried more than just what he meant, but also how he felt about the macabre turn of events. "Unless of course you'd like me to snuff you out with a pillow. Or I could drop the tv on your head. Or string you up with the bed sheets. Oh! Or I could rip out the cord from the lamp and electrocute you. Maybe you'd get to experience a heart attack the way I did when we were hunting those rawheads. That was by far my favorite way to go." Dean made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, giving electrocution his seal of approval. Sam squirmed what little he could against his restraints.

"Did you even think about what that would do to me, Sam? What watching as my body shoots my little brother on his command would do to me? I don't know if you remember or not, but last time you died didn't exactly go over too well for me..." What could Sam say that he hadn't already said? He'd pleaded, he'd cried, he'd ordered, but Dean just didn't get it. Evil is evil, and killing it is what we do-

"You're not evil and you're not going to turn evil and you're not going to hurt anyone, because you're stronger than this, Sammy."

Sam didn't look up, his eyes fixated on a distant point, "I don't know-"

"Well, then I'm stronger than this."

"It doesn't work like that, Dean. What if you can't stop me? What makes you think you ever could?"

Dean arched an eyebrow at that, "First of all, you fight like a little girl. Add in some freaky powers and that might put you on equal footing with Steve Urkel. So calm down. Let's just have a beer. Let's have FIVE. Least when you're drunk sometimes your'e funny." Dean had that idiotic smirk back for a second.

"Dean-" Sam sounded exasperated, teetering on annoyance. That was a good sign. Annoyed or pissed Sammy beat out mopey, stupid suicidal Sam any day of the week. Dean felt like he was finally making some headway. Leaning forward to add weight to his next words, Dean held out his hand.

"And what about this, Sam?" Dean indicated the still tightly held silver bullet. "I told you back in Black Rock during that messed up rabbit foot case, my gun doesn't fucking jam. What does that tell you?" Dean paused, taking a breath and leveling his little brother with a look that pleaded for understanding. "You know what that tells me, Sam? Maybe the dicks upstairs," Dean motioned vaguely upwards, "have more in store for you than pillaging villages and eating babies, or whatever the hell you think Darth Sammius was planning. Maybe they brought me back because no matter what happens, I'm going to make sure that you continue to be the pain in the ass little shit that I grew up with." Dean gave him one more verbal shove before lapsing into silence, "The big guy has faith in me, Sam, how bout you show me some."

"Are we just about done talking about this?" Sam asked lying his head back down on the bed staring up at the ceiling. I thought it was bad when all I had were death visions…

"No, Sam, we're not. First you try to fucking off yourself giving me the luxury of pulling the trigger after tapping into some newfound level of messed-up, crazy, bullshit powers and now you're brushing it off like the most unfortunate thing that happened today was that I forgot to put sugar in your freaking coffee." Dean finally took a calming breath using the moment's respite to glare at his little brother. "I need some sort of assurance that you're not gonna pull this kind of shit again."

Sam looked forlornly up at his brother from his bed-like prison. He was tired of fighting the same fight over and over again with Dean. He was tired of trying to find reasons to justify what should be a black and white answer to the "I'm turning evil and need to be destroyed" problem. He did trust his brother, but Sam couldn't help feeling that someday, maybe soon, he'd finally lose control and then lose Dean forever… again. Dean wasn't giving up, though, and that meant more to Sam than Dean would ever know. "The weight of the world really is on your shoulders now, big brother." Dean regarded him coolly from his sentry position next to his brother. Sam closed his eyes, reached deep and trusted his brother.

"What'd you say, Sam?"

Sam opened his eyes focusing on his brother, "Just forget about it, Dean."

The end.

________________________________________________

AN: Well, that's all you get. I hope you liked it. Reviews would be great! I'm sorry if you thought it was carp, but you're wrong. This is fanfiction, not fish. I'm also sorry if you thought it was crap. Don't worry, I don't mind. Did you all like the episode this week? I thought it was kickass.

-Jake (WS5160)