I honest to God don't know what's going on with the spacing. My apologizes. Still not mine.

"Pretty nice place, huh?" Dean said, getting out of the car and stretching. He was trying to play it cool because that, that was just plain awkward. The tension between them was so thick it could be cut with a knife. "Rest Easy? Yeah. It was... nice." And awkward, and scary, and wrong, and just plain confusing. Sam was already confused about what he was feeling and that just made it worse. Dean felt like a creepy pedophile. The type they arrested for raping little children. Man he was fucked up. Sam was his brother. His little, ten year old, brother. And back at the bar it took every once of self-control in his body to not kiss him.

John got out of the car and opened the door. "Sam, go to your room." He said, standing in the doorway. They both knew it was coming. Sam looked at Dean, reluctant to leave. Dean crouched down, taking Sam's hand in his. "Go Sammy. I'll be fine." They both knew he was lying. Sam locked eyes with him, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He nodded and headed for the stairs.

John glared at his eldest son. Dean was still crouched down. "Stand up." He ordered, roughly jerking Dean up by the collar of his shirt. Dean gagged a little as he stood. "Did I give you direct orders not to leave the farm?" John growled. "Yes sir." "Did you disobey those orders?" "Yes sir." "Could you have put you brother and you in danger had the bar been just and ordinary bar?" "Yes sir." Had Dean been looking up he would have seen the hit coming. Instead he was intently studying his boots and it came as a complete surprise. He staggered backwards before falling flat on his ass. He delicately brought his hand to his face. Yep. His nose was bleeding and his lip was split. He slowly stood back up. John slapped him across the face, adding to the pain and causing him to trip over a pair of boots. "Tell your brother I'm going to Texas. I won't be home for at least a month. I have a lead on the thing that killed your mother. Here's some money. I re-stocked on food." Dean watched John storm out the door.

Dean stood slowly, picking up the billfold. "Dean?" A soft grunt lead Sam to the entry way. He stopped dead in his tracks, blood running cold. "Dad's going to Texas. Won't be home for at least a month. Got a lead." Dean said. Sam reached out, gently touching Dean's bloodied face. "Oh Dean... What did he do to you?" Sam drew his hand back, feeling the sticky blood on them. "The usual. I'll live Sam." Dean said. It was that moment in time that Dean realized Sam was just an adult in a child's body. Sam clenched his hands into fists at his sides. "That doesn't mean it's right. The bastard." Normally Dean would have told Sam to watch his language but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Sam took his hand and lead him to the kitchen were he wiped the blood off of Dean's face with a damp towel. "Here. For the bloody nose." Sam said, handing Dean a tissue. "Thanks Sammy." Dean said with a small smile. Sam forced a smile. He was to angry to even really try to hide it. If John was there he would give him a piece of his mind.

Sam's mind wandered back to Rest Easy. Granted, it was awkward having his older brother sleeping on his chest while they were both only wearing their boxers but some how it just felt right. Of course he'd never admit that out loud in fear of freaking Dean out. That would only set him back. Dean watched Sam who seemed to be lost in thought. Dean was sitting at the table, a chunk of tissue stuffed up his nose. Sam was leaning against the counter, facing Dean. He seemed troubled. Yep, Dean really screwed up at Rest Easy. Shit, how was he going to fix this? He ran his hands through his hair. "Dean?" Sam looked at him, slightly worried. "Hmm?" "I asked if you wanted hot dogs for lunch." "Oh. Yeah. Sure." Wow he was really out of it. Sam nodded and started frying some hot dogs. Dean stood and walked over to the fridge, grabbing a pop.

Sam watched Dean all through lunch. He seemed worried. About what, he did not know. "Is something wrong?" He finally asked, half way through his second hot dog. "No. Nothing's wrong." Yeah, that was definitely a lie. Dean looked like he was trying to smite a bottle of vodka that was sitting on the shelf behind Sam. Dean put his hot dog down on his plate, pushed back from the table, and grabbed the vodka. Sam just watched him. Dean looked at Sam. "Don't give me that look." He said. The worst part was that Sam didn't look angry, or disappointed, or sad, or anything. He just looked. It was like he expected Dean to grab the bottle. This was officially one of the worst moments in history for the Winchester brothers. Dean was slipping into depression as was Sam. Sam's idle was getting drunk right in front of him as though he didn't matter. Sam threw caution to the wind and stormed outside, not caring if something managed to kill him. He shivered, the cold October air sending goose bumps spiking across his skin.

"Smmyy." Sam was guessing Dean was shooting for 'Sammy'. "Dean." Dean leaned against the door frame for support. "I think I... drank to much..." Sam watched as Dean staggered forward, tripping and falling down the steps. "Dean!" Sam quickly dashed over to him, skipping the bottom two steps. "Gonna... be sick..." Was Dean's only warning to Sam before he vomited. "Oh ew." Sam said. He had managed to sidestep at the last minute when he realized what Dean meant. "House. Now." Sam said, helping Dean get to his feet. "I get all tingly... when you... take control like that." Dean said with a cheeky grin. "That's nice. More walk less talk." Sam said, guiding Dean through the door. "Yes dear. You have a nice ass." Sam jumped when Dean squeezed his ass. He unceremoniously dropped Dean on the couch. Tonight and tomorrow were going to be fun.

Chapter three, folks! I put in drunk Dean because A)Sam has to clean up after him and take care of him and B)He is going to say some... different... stuff in chapter four. Until next time!