What's up, duders?! My god am I happy to be coming out with a new chapter. I am so sorry for the delay and I hope you all don't hate me. I was sicker than a dog and it took me forever to get back on my feet (seeing me try to write when I'm sick is like watching a paraplegic try to perform a lap dance. It just doesn't work). Judging by the few reviews I got for the last chapter, you probably didn't even realize I was gone, eh? *crosses arms* Oh, alright. I forgive you. xD

On another note, did you guys see the trailer for Guardians of the Galaxy? Holy shitballs, am I excited! Not only is The Collector hot as fuck (don't judge me), but I get to see Rocket Raccoon! Who wouldn't be ecstatic for the chance to see a badass, wise cracking raccoon shooting machine guns from atop a giant plant named Groot? Certainly nobody I'd want to hang out with...

Ok, I've blabbed enough. On with the story!


Sam came downstairs the next morning to find Bobby on his knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. Sighing, he stepped into the room and gave the old man a knowing look. "Dean?"

Bobby glanced up. "Do you even have to ask?"

Sam shook his head. "Why would he do this?" he whispered.

Bobby went back to his cleaning. "How the hell should I know? The boy's angry, he's confused . . . I honestly don't know what I'm supposed to do about him anymore. That kid is turning everyone's world upside down and I can't do a goddamn thing to stop it."

"He's never disrespected you before. Certainly not like this."

"Yeah, well," Bobby said, getting up from the floor and throwing his sponge into a pail. "You'd be surprised what Dean's capable of when it comes to you."

Sam flinched. The last thing he needed to be reminded of was his brother's irrational love for him. He had a hard enough time accepting Dean's arrival, but to think for one moment that the complete and utter disrespect he showed to Bobby was all Sam's fault was enough to send him over the edge. He didn't want anyone's life to suffer in any way just because he wouldn't give in to his confused sibling's twisted desires. It was bad enough that he shared them. Did he really need to act on them too?

"I want to go talk to him."

Bobby whipped around to glare at Sam. "Are you crazy?"

"I think I can reason with him."

"Oh, you think, huh? Did you know that me and him butted heads over you last night? He still wants you, Sam! He wants you in the way he knows he's not supposed to: spread out on his bed with your legs over your fucking head. Now, is that what you want? To be right back in the position you were in all those years ago?"

"Of course not," Sam replied sternly.

Bobby sighed, his anger all but lost in the face of Sam's. "I promised you that he would stay away from you, Sam. I'm doing my best to make that happen, but your sudden desire to be close to that boy is makin' it kinda hard for me to protect you."

"Look, Bobby, I know how this looks. But if there's gonna be any kind of normalcy in this household, it's going to come from me letting him in. I'm confused about this whole thing and I know I said I wanted him away, but deep down, I can't get over the fact that I'm losing just a little bit of my rage over what he's done. He's still my brother, Bobby. I can't let him go. I want to, but I can't. I think . . . I think it's time for me to forgive him."

Bobby shook his head and raised his arms in exasperation. "This is insane. What the fuck am I supposed to do about this, huh? Just let you two be buddy buddy after he deliberately sexually molested you? Yeah, let's just do that. Then when John comes back, we can all sing Kumbaya and dance naked around a campfire."

Sam's eyes widened, and Bobby let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, you forget about him, did you? He's not going to be gone forever, Samuel. If there's one thing I can count on about your father, it's that he always comes back eventually. And let me tell you something; when he does, you better be ready for it, because I guarantee you, he's not going to be as lenient about this whole thing as I am."

Bobby walked past Sam to get to the front door, and Sam watched him leave in silence before kicking the cupboard below the sink in frustration. The entire situation with Dean was getting out of hand. What made it even worse was just how vulnerable he was becoming to his older brother. It was his love for Dean that gave the boy everything he needed to take advantage of Sam in the first place, and, four years later, it seemed as if they were both still dancing to the same old familiar tune. How the hell was he supposed to forgive Dean when he couldn't even trust him? And how could he not when his brother was the one who took care of him for most of his life? All those years cramped in motel room after motel room with the task of caring for a little brother when he was too young to even fend for himself had to have been a burden. But he still did it, regardless of how unfair it was. Dean was bathing, feeding, clothing, and diapering Sam before he'd even turned five, and Sam knew that those memories wouldn't just conveniently disappear long enough for him to disown his brother. Their bond was too strong, and Sam hated Dean for it, resented the idea that he could be tied down to a love he didn't even want anymore, yet craved badly enough that he felt like a terrible person for even considering forgiving Dean. It was confusing, it was madness, it was . . .

"Sammy?"

Sam froze. Oh god.

Turning around slowly, Sam took in the sight of his dirty brother with a moan so inaudible, he barely heard it with his own ears.

"Dean."

A combination of oil and grease stained Dean's pale skin, hair disheveled in the way it used to get when Sam's fingers would pull on it during a long night of strenuous intercourse (don't go there. Please don't go there). His black shirt was drenched in his sweat, the torn blue jeans hanging low on his hips making Sam's mouth water. After all this time, Dean still had the ability to get under his skin in a way that nobody else could, filling Sam's body with a familiar fondness he could have sworn he'd grown out of long ago.

Dean took a step closer, but stopped when Sam retaliated by taking a step back. The hurt look the action put on Dean's face disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced with a mask of cool indifference that Sam's never seen directed at him before. It hurts him in a way he can't explain, and he has to reach behind himself to grasp the edge of the kitchen sink in a tight grip to avoid dropping to his knees and begging his big brother for forgiveness.

"What's the matter, Sam?" Dean asked, the icy tone he used sending a chill up Sam's spine. "Can't stand the thought of being near me? Think I'm gonna hurt you?"

Sam tried to respond, but all he could get out was a shaky breath that somehow got caught in the middle of his throat. Dean's stern expression intensified as he took slow, cautious steps towards Sam, closing in on him like a predator about to devour his prey. Sam watched it all happen in slow motion, closing his eyes when Dean was close enough that the breath he blew out his nose fell on Sam's face like a gentle caress. Before he knew what had hit him, Dean's hands were reaching out to rest right next to his brother's, leaving Sam trapped between the sink and Dean's body.

"Look at me, Sammy," Dean whispered. When Sam didn't answer, his voice rose in pitch. "I said look at me."

Sam slowly opened his eyes and stared at Dean. "What do you want, Dean?"

Dean looked at him for a moment before grabbing hold of something around his neck and dangling it in front of Sam's face. "Remember this?"

Oh, he remembered alright. It was the amulet Dean had given him as a boy one Christmas night when his father had been too busy hunting monsters to bother showing up to spend time with his boys. John was supposed to get that necklace, but it was on that night that Sam realized he didn't deserve it. No, that amulet needed to go around the neck of someone who was always there for him when times got tough, someone who would always wipe his tears and soothe all his problems away.

Someone like Dean.

Sam felt his eyes tear up. "You still have it," he whispered, more to himself than Dean.

"I wear it over my heart. It was the only thing I had left of you when dad sent me away, this and a picture that had your face on it."

Dean's face suddenly hardened, and the tone of his voice took on an angry edge that Sam didn't think he'd ever be on the receiving end of. "I have spent every second of my existence looking out for you. I've put aside every single need I'd ever had just so I could take care of you, because lord knows dad wasn't gonna do it. Your desires became my desires, your needs my responsibility to meet. I lived and breathed you, Sam. Sammy. My Sammy. Dad made it perfectly clear that you were mine the night our mother died, and I had no choice but to care for you at a time when I couldn't even care for myself. I've sacrificed so much for you, and you have the nerve to think that I could hurt you?"

Sam knew he should be angry, knew he should yell and scream, tell Dean he had no right to play the victim card when he'd taken advantage of the power he held over his baby brother, but . . . he just couldn't find it in him to feel anything other than regret. He didn't want to live this way anymore. He didn't want to be a prisoner in his own house and he didn't want to forget all the good his brother had done for him. The sight of the amulet spoke louder than any words they could ever say to each other, and its presence on Dean's neck was what finally sealed Sam's fate.

He had to forgive his brother. There was no other option.

Before he could tell this to Dean, the older boy was storming away from him in anger, turning at the doorway to shoot one last glare Sam's way.

"I'm the only person who's ever been there for you, Sam. I'm the only one that's always gonna be there. I think that warrants a little fucking respect, don't you?"

It wasn't until Dean slammed the front door and peeled out of the driveway in the Impala that Sam finally admitted to himself that his brother was right.


The crowd gathered at the school Monday morning stunned Sam into silence as Bobby pulled up to the entrance, both of them frowning as they realized something was very wrong.

"Maybe I should get out," Bobby said.

"I don't know, Bobby. It's probably no-" Sam's denial was interrupted when he caught sight of Bessie Jackson walking towards the car with a somber expression on her face. The presence of a gossip queen was never a good thing when there were other people involved, and Sam knew right then and there that he wasn't going to like whatever it was the old woman had to say.

"Bobby, we have a problem."

Bobby's face darkened. "What is it?"

"It's Miss Claudette's daughter, Virginia. Her body was just found in front of the school building. The poor thing's head had been cut off and the sweater she always wears is missing."

"Ah, shit," Bobby muttered.

Sam's brows furrowed. "But I thought her and her family were supposed to be on vacation?"

"Evidently not," Bessie remarked dryly. "Apparently, Virginia was left behind because she had a date with someone. Now, I know Virginia was a promiscuous girl who was into older men, but I don't know of a single soul in this town over the age of eighteen who would dare take home an underage girl. I do, however, think the town is going to be looking for someone to blame."

"You think they're gonna go after Dean . . . don't you?" Bobby replied knowingly.

"Dean knew her, Bobby. If you were anyone else, what would you think?"

Sam sighed in frustration, head falling back against the seat. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, Virginia had to go and get herself killed. Now, the town is out for blood and he knew Bessie was right. Trying to look at things from everyone else's perspective was enough to know that Dean was going to be the main suspect in that girl's murder. The facts were stacked against Dean, and Sam knew it. He had a reputation, he was kicked out of his father's house and sent to go live with a respected member of the community who'd just died from what the police had originally labeled an "accident" (according to Bobby anyway), and now a girl that he knew was just killed. Not to mention, everyone is still wondering why John kicked him out in the first place. If they found out the truth . . . Sam didn't think he'd be able to show his face in public again.

Blowing out a shaky breath, Sam made a move to get out of the car, but was stopped by Bobby's hand on his arm.

"I don't think you should go out there."

Sam smiled sadly. "I'll be alright. I just need to act normal, that's all."

Bobby looked like he wanted to protest, but let Sam go all the same. When he got to the crowd gathered around Virginia's body, he saw Adam scanning the faces of everyone there until his eyes finally narrowed in on Sam. Eyes widening, he violently pushed himself through the mess of jumbled bodies until he reached his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around Sam in a deathlike grip Sam found himself enthusiastically returning.

"Oh, god, Sam. Thank god you're alright. They told me someone had died and I couldn't stop thinking about you. I was so worried."

Sam shoved his face in Adam's neck, wanting the comfort of someone familiar to keep him grounded.

The scent's all wrong. Where's the leather and gunpowder? Why is his voice so soft? It should be rougher, like he just downed an entire bottle of whiskey in less than a minute. And why is his body not hard enough? His arms don't feel strong. I don't feel protected. It's all wrong.

Oh, god. Why did he always have to think this way when he was around Adam?

Pulling himself away, Sam tried to form something resembling a smile, though he probably failed miserably. "It's okay. I'm okay. I just can't believe anyone would do this."

"It gets worse," Adam said. "Apparently, her parents never reached the airport they were supposed to be at. They drove up to Cici's Diner to grab a bite to eat and no one's seen or heard from them since."

The arms Sam had wrapped around himself fell to rest at his sides. "Did they go missing at the same time this happened?'

"That's what everyone is saying. How the hell does everyone in this town find out about all this shit before the police? This all supposedly happened last night and everybody seems to know everything about it already."

"Where are the cops anyway?"

"On their way. Principal Anderson was the one who made the call. You'd think they'd be here by now."

Sam frowned. "I have to go home, Adam. I can't be here right now."

Adam's head whipped around. "Oh, no. There's no way you're leaving my side. If you want to leave, fine, but you should come home with me."

Sam tried not to let his annoyance show. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Adam. Besides, my brother would freak out if I didn't come straight home after something like this. You don't have to worry about me when he's there. I promise you, I'll be fine."

Adam tried to argue, but one kiss from Sam was enough to get the boy to give up, on the condition that Sam call him before the day was over.

Overprotective boyfriends, Sam thought with a tiny smile.

"Hey, Winchester!"

Sam turned around at the sound of his last name, scowling when he caught sight of Roger Eaton. "Everyone here knows exactly who did this. You better tell that brother of yours to watch his back."

Sam looked around at all the accusing faces with a sense of dread. He should have known that it wasn't going to take very long for the whole school to start pointing fingers at Dean. Now, Sam was an accessory to it all because he was his little brother. How in the world he was going to survive this, he had no clue. But, what he did know, was that Virginia was murdered. If it turns out that her parents are now dead for the same reason, then maybe Rosa's death could somehow be connected to those murders. If that's the case, then there was a serial killer running loose, and so far, he was killing people that knew Dean on a personal level. Maybe the killer knows Dean? If he knows Dean . . . then maybe he knows his family too.

Sam turned around and ran away from the unfriendly eyes burning holes in his flesh, stopping behind the school building so he could throw up in the bushes. His life wasn't supposed to be like this. Ever since Dean came back, things have gotten worse than they've ever been before, and Sam wasn't sure how long he could hold on before he finally cracked. All he knew was that the entire school hated him, and he was stuck in a house with a molesting brother who was now being accused of murder.

Yep, it was official. Sam was royally screwed.