It was a completely silent car journey back from Rhode Island.

Dean drove steadily, his eyes seemingly focused solely on the road ahead… but nearly as much of his attention was actually on the younger man who was beside him in the passenger seat. Sam had had some sort of seizure, and it had terrified the older man. Had he gone through all of this, just to lose his baby brother anyway?

Sam, for his part, also seemed to be staring steadily out through the windscreen… but they could have been travelling along the yellow brick road on their way to the Emerald City for all the notice he was actually taking of their journey. All his attention, every single thought that he was having, was focused internally and onto memories that had slowly started to seep back into his consciousness.

And god, he wished that they weren't.

He had been so excited when… something… Memory? Vision? Something had stirred within his mind at the mention of Bristol, in Rhode Island. He had been there. And not with his brother, but the brief image in his head had shown him Samuel, his grandfather. So it must have been within the last eighteen months…

And now he sat silently in the Impala as his brother drove them back to Bobby's. While his head span with the revelations that he had uncovered in that town…

… about himself.

And all his hopes had been exposed as false, for Sam now had to truly face up to what he had been.

And what he had been, during the last eighteen months, was a sadistic, sociopathic, arrogant… piece of shit.

Just in that one town, he had slept with just about every woman who had crossed his path, unconcerned about whether they had been married or not. He had beaten a policeman who had been trying to arrest him, nearly to death. He had used a man as living bait without his knowledge… and killed the poor human himself when he had failed to protect him from the monster. As well as the other men that had been caught and bitten by the Arachne: Sam had shot them all out of 'mercy', he hadn't even tried to save them.

And that had only been one town.

What the hell else had he done?

Although Sam wasn't so sure that he wanted to know anymore.

In fact, he was positive he didn't!

The only bright spot in an otherwise dark and depressing couple of days was that he had had some sort of convulsion, or seizure or something, as they were preparing to leave. Not that that had been good. In fact the vision or whatever it was… please god, let it not be a memory… had been the most terrifying thing that he could ever have imagined…

But.

He had come round to find himself in his brother's arms. And the look on Dean's face as he was holding him? Just as he had opened his eyes, just before the older man had had time to clamp down on his emotions as he always did, Sam had caught not only a glimpse of Dean's panic-stricken face at what was happening, but also the concern and… love… that still shone in those amazing green irises.

Love for him.

Despite everything he had done.

Dean still loved him.

And that was the only thing keeping Sam even remotely sane at the moment.

"You sure you're okay?" The deep, gravelly voice broke through his thoughts. "I still think you should go to the hospital."

"I'm fine, Dean. Really. I'm just tired, but… I don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to dream. Not anymore." He sighed and finally managed to turn his head to look at the other man, tears shining in his eyes. "I don't think I ever want to dream again."

His brother grunted, while seemingly keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead… although Sam wasn't fooled. But he said nothing.

They drove in silence for a while longer.

Then Sam did begin to feel his eyelids get heavy, and his head seem to become a dead weight on his neck.

"Get some rest, Sam." Dean hadn't even turned his head. "You look like you need it."

"I'm f…" Sam began, but he wasn't. And he knew he wasn't. "Okay." He paused for a moment: dare he risk…? "Dean? Could I? I mean…Just…"

And he was rearranging himself in his seat, sliding his long body to the right until it was almost up against the door, while his shoulders and head began to descend to the left. Towards his brother's lap. He noticed as Dean's own body immediately stiffened with tension and hastened to reassure him: "Just…please. I need… Please."

And he was finally half-lying on the front seat: legs stretched out in the footwell, his head resting on Dean's strong thigh, his soft hair spreading out across the denim. Just as he had done so many times as a child, albeit in the rear seat… secure and safe with his big brother.

Sam was desperate to put his hand on Dean's knee as well, but restrained himself. Just the single touch was enough at the moment, and he sent up a silent prayer that the other man didn't just simply push him away…

They went a couple more miles in silence, before Sam felt his brother finally relax a little… and then the fingers on his right hand were suddenly leaving the steering wheel to instead gently brush against the younger man's head, and tentatively begin to card through his long locks. Obviously Dean had remembered as well.

Sam blinked back tears and just concentrated on enjoying the moment: how he wished they could just go back to that time, when homework was his only obsession, and the only monster he was scared of was the one in his closet.

They drove on a long way. It was Sam who finally broke the silence: "I can't believe how I… I mean: I'm a…! I just… What else do you think I've done, Dean? Have I been like thateverywhere? Ever since I came back? Like that?"

"I don't know, Sam. I really don't know."

Sam twisted his neck slightly so he could look up at the other. "Of course. Castiel said I only came to find you when you were in danger from the Djinn that were after you… that at least I'd left you alone until then. Ouch!"

For his brother's fingers had tightened abruptly, twisted as they were in his hair, and tugging it painfully. They were just as suddenly released: "Sorry," Dean apologised, "it got caught on my rough skin. Ain't it about time you considered putting the clippers to that lot?"

"I told you: I'm never cutting it! I don't want to look like a soldier: that was you and dad!"

"Yeah, but that was when you were a rebellious teen! You're all grown up now, baby boy! Time to get your hair cut!"

"Jerk!"

"Bitch!"

Sam laughed and felt better momentarily. Then the events of Bristol surged through his brain again and he turned serious once more.

"I'm so sorry, Dean. I wish I could have left you out of all of this: you were happy with Lisa."

"I was a mess. When I wasn't drinking to forget how depressed I was, I was depressed because I wasn't drunk." The stark admission shook Sam. And upset him. He had hoped… he had so wanted

"Castiel said you were doing okay… until I came along and dragged you back into Hunting. Though apparently I'd left you in peace for a year…asked everyone not to tell you I was back… I'm glad I did that, at least… I'm glad I tried to keep you safe..."

He was still lying against Dean's thigh, watching his brother's face. He saw the look of sheer, intense, unadulterated…fury that passed across it: he saw the way the Dean's jaw set tightly, the way his nostrils flared and the way his lips thinned…and the way both hands suddenly tightened this time, one white-knuckling on the wheel, the other removing abruptly from Sam's hair before he caught it by accident in his fist once more… and then the moment had passed, and Dean was once again under control and his body became expressionless once more.

But his voice didn't quite immediately get so emotionless: Sam could hear the aggression beneath his snapped response: "That what you think, eh, Sammy? Well, ain't that peachy? Bobby can bitch all he wants, but if he had just fucking told me… he'd have saved the both of us a lot of heartache. I knew that fucking thing wasn't you…

Get some sleep! I'll give it another couple of hours then look for a motel."

Sam blinked at the sudden change of subject. Part of him wanted to argue and pursue what… ever could have happened to provoke that reaction in his brother… what he must have done to cause such a response. But the rest of him was quite content to let it go… for the time being at least… and just stay comfortable and close to his brother, with his head resting on his leg. And he really wanted Dean to stroke his hair again. So he nodded and remained silent…

… but worried. That sudden loss of self-possession was so completely out of character for his usually under-control brother? What had he said to prompt it? And… more importantly… why had it?

Sam tried to stop himself from asking: he really did. But…

"I know that I've got to face a lot of things that I've done, Dean." He tried to pick his words carefully. "I know I have, and I'm dreading it: I really am! But… it would help… if I know what I'd done… if someone would tell me… so I can at least start to try and put it right…"

There was such a long silence this time that Sam nearly gave up on trying to stay awake: obviously Dean simply wasn't going to answer. But then his hand moved to rest on Sam's shoulder instead as he rested on the seat against his thigh, his fingers tightening protectively against the strong muscles beneath the shirts, and just caressing the very tip of Sam's long hair as it splayed out over the collars and tickled against the edges of his neatly-trimmed nails…

"You ain't done anything as far as I'm concerned, Sam. So don't you worry about that. And as for the rest… well, we'll deal with it together.

Just like we always have done.

'Cos that's what we do."