You wanted very much to punch Dean with all your strength until he fell over begging for you to stop, but Sam had already beaten you to it. A large red welt was beginning to rise on his jaw where Sam's fist had connected.

"Why did you do that?" You yelled at Dean. He sat up to talk but you didn't want to hear his response; you grabbed your bag and followed Sam out of the dirty bar. He hadn't gotten too far and you ran at full speed to catch up with him. You called to him but he kept walking, his hands in his pockets, back hunched over.

"Sam…" you finally reached him and brought a tentative hand up to his arm. He didn't stop walking and you struggled to match his long quick strides, out of breath and crying. "Sam, please stop. Can you talk to me?" He came to a dead stop and turned to face you. The anger was still emanating from him, but a touch of sadness had crept into his face as well and his cheeks were marked with the ghosts of his tears.

Your heart broke to see him crying like it always did, but this time it was a million times worse since you were the cause of his tears. He stood silently before you with his head down. "Sam, please say something" you begged, thinking that his silence was worse than anything he could say to you. You were wrong:

"You lied to me. This whole time you've been lying to me." His voice was deep and thick as he pushed through the tears.

"No Sam, I haven't been lying. I never told you, but I never lied."

"It's the same thing. You kept this from me. And Dean…he knew. He knew I was in love with you and he still…" his words fell away and his eyes trailed towards the bar and back, never landing on your face. You desperately wanted him to look at you, to stop and listen and let you try and make this right.

"It wasn't Dean's fault. He was right, I kissed him. It was stupid, I was mad that you left, that you wouldn't dance with me." You laughed bitterly at how stupid you had been and wiped your eyes with your sleeve. "Sam I didn't know how you felt, if I had known, if you'd said something, I never ever would have… Sam I love you. I've loved you for so long. Can't we move past this?"

"I don't know," he said, his hazel eyes finally coming to rest on yours. "I don't know Y/N."

"Sam, please…" you reached up for him again and he moved away, your fingers barely brushing his skin.

"You lied." He said again. His voice was just a whisper but it echoed in through you. He was right; you'd lied to him, but you could fix it, he had to let you fix it. Sam started walking away. You grabbed his hand and again he pulled away, not wanting to feel your touch.

"Sam, come on. Let's go back to the motel and talk. Please don't leave me here like this." You felt the tears returning. They had never really left; it was just a fresh flood running down your face.

"I can't." he said, "I need some time."

What could you do? You knew how he was, knew how he thought. All you could do was let him walk away from you and wait.

Sam didn't come back to your room that night. You hadn't slept at all, sitting up in the chair by the window you watched through the sheer curtains for him to appear.

Dean stumbled back to the motel around two a.m. You watched him turning circles in the parking lot, debating whether or not he should knock on your door. Thankfully he decided against it and retreated to his own room.

Your eyes grew heavy as the morning approached and eventually your head fell to your chest as you drifted off to sleep. It was blessedly free of dreams and when the knocking on the door woke you a few hours later it felt like you had just closed your eyes, like no time had passed. You jumped up to open the door hoping to see Sam, but it was the wrong brother; Dean stood in the open doorway with a takeaway tray holding three coffee cups.

"I uh…here" He said, pushing the tray into your hands. You took it and stepped back to let him in the room.

"Thanks but we don't need three."

"Sam's not here?" Dean asked, looking around at the empty room.

You sighed and put the tray down on the table. You took a cup and went back to your chair looking out of the dingy window. "No. He never came back." you said.

"Huh, well, I'm sure he'll turn up. Did you call him?" Dean took a cup and sat down on the edge of the unused bed.

"Did I call him?" You laughed bitterly. "I called him a thousand times. He turned the phone off completely around one. I left a dozen messages. I don't know. He's gone." You picked at the white plastic lid on the cup, ripping at the opening.

"He'll come back soon. Probably wants to be alone for a bit. He'll come around."

You turned around and stared at him, shaking your head. "Why did you do that?" Your voice cracked, tears making their threatening march up through your chest. "Why Dean? You fucked everything up."

Dean hung his head and stared into his coffee. "I had to tell him, it was eating me up. Every time I looked at you guys together I thought about it and I had to tell him."

You put your cup down and stood up. "You just had to tell him? You'd think Dean Winchester would be able to handle a little guilt after all this time. How many times have you done this to him? Kept secrets, lied to him, and what, this is the one time you couldn't handle it and had to spill the beans and ruin everything? What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me? I don't get it." Your voice was rising in pitch as the tears began to fall, you were almost screaming at the end of your rambling. Dean looked up and you could see how sorry he really was.

"I don't hate you Y/N." He said quietly. He was calm and steady, the complete opposite of you. "You're like my little sister, you're family. But no, I can't lie to Sam anymore. I wish to God I could take that night back, but I can't; and every time I saw him look at you, he was so happy and I just thought, if we don't tell him now and he finds out, he'll never forgive us. At least now there's a chance."

"I really don't think there is a chance. I've never seen him so angry." You brought your hands up to cover your face, the tears were coming in full streams, you gulped for air and just let it all come pouring out. Dean stood up and came to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and patting your head gently. "Hey, hey, it's OK."

You pulled back, knocking the coffee in his hands. "It's not OK Dean. If it were OK, Sam would be here right now. Not you." You sank down onto the bed, hands on your knees and continued your crying fit. Dean put his coffee down and sat next to you, his hand rubbing your back. He didn't speak; he just sat with you until you began to calm down. "I don't know what I'm gonna do." You said in a whisper as the tears were slowing.

"I wish I had an answer." Dean said, his hand still on your back. You turned towards him and put your head on his shoulder, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into a hug.

"Well that's just perfect." Sam said from the doorway. You and Dean jumped apart instantly; you wiped your eyes and stood up, amazed and thankful to see Sam finally there.

"Sam, where were you? I was so worried." You went to him and reached to take his hand. He pulled away, walking past you to the other side of the room. He grabbed his bag and started shoving stuff in.

"I just came to get my stuff." He said, refusing to look at your or his brother.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" You stammered, trying to keep calm and get him to look at you. Sam didn't answer, he just kept collecting his few belongings and cramming them into his duffle bag.

Dean got up and went to the door. "I'm gonna give you guys a minute." He said quietly as he left. Your head was spinning now, trying to find anything you could say to make Sam stop and talk to you. Nothing good was coming to the surface so you stood there, watching him and hating yourself.

When he was done packing he stopped and turned to you. His face was blank, like a Sam Halloween mask, you couldn't see anything behind it as he looked at you. "I can't be around you guys right now." He said simply, it wasn't angry or hurt, it was just a fact.

You couldn't keep your mouth shut even though you knew you should. "Sam, I'm so sorry. Please let's talk about this. Don't do this to us, please..." You went to him again, trying to touch him, if he would just let you touch him...

"You did this to us Y/N." He said, voice still steady and emotionless. "You broke us."

Your mouth hung open but no words came out. Your breath stopped and you felt something twist and snap in your chest, like a knife being turned inside you. It was sharp and hot and threatened to take you down. As Sam turned away and walked out the door you realized what that pain was: it was your heart breaking in half.

It felt strange, like you were stoned; you were there but not there, distant from yourself. You sat in the booth across from Dean in the little greasy diner and stared down at your untouched cheeseburger. Dean had pulled you out of your room a little while ago and insisted that you come eat something. Sam had been gone for a few hours and you spent the whole time trying to go over everything in your head, but you couldn't remember any of the good stuff, just the look on his face when he left. Your head was aching, probably from dehydration. You'd been crying for what felt like days. You rubbed your fingers down through the condensation on your water glass and looked out the window.

"You should eat." Dean said again. "You'll feel better."

"I doubt it."

"He does this all the time- he gets mad and disappears for a while. One time he was gone almost a month, but he always comes home."

You took a sip of water and shook your head. You were all out of words. Dean would stay hopeful and wait for Sam to return, but you knew he wouldn't. It was over. Your stomach rumbled and you gave up and took a bite of your burger. You couldn't even taste it, your sadness had made its way through your entire body; turning off everything that wasn't necessary to keep you alive.

Dean's phone went off and you jumped, pulled out of your depression for a moment of hope.

"What is it?" You asked, swallowing. "Is it Sam?"

"No..." He was reading a long text. "It's the case. Ellsworth, Iowa. Another vic, same M.O." he set the phone down and went back to his food.

"So... are we gonna go?" you asked, a little confused. You were still technically working a case even if one of you had left.

"You still want to? I can call someone else. I think Tommy Haines is in the area."

"Yes I want to go. It's our case, we're not gonna hand it off to some Tommy dude." You wanted to go, no, you needed to go. "If we don't have something to do I'm just gonna sit in that motel room and rot waiting for your brother to come back. And since everything in me is saying he's not gonna come back, I say we go find those animals and kill 'em." You picked up your burger and ripped a huge bite out of it, your taste and hunger returning with the prospect of something to do.

"Well OK then. Let's roll."

It didn't take long to get the information you needed to find the killers, which was good because if the trend continued, there would be another murder that night. You and Dean worked quickly and efficiently, neither of you wanting to think about Sam being gone. You had tried calling him one last time before you left the motel; the call went straight to voice mail and you sat on the edge of the bed using your last bits of emotional energy to leave a message:

"So we're headed down to Ellsworth, it's not far, and we have a few hours hopefully before anyone else gets killed. I just um… look, I don't know if you're going to listen to this or not, but I just want, I need to tell you that I'm sorry. No, it's more than that really…I know you think I betrayed you, and I guess I did. I didn't meant too, obviously, and I didn't know that I was at the time, but that's no excuse. I should have told you as soon as it happened. God, it shouldn't have happened at all. This isn't coming out as I had planned…shit. Ok, look: I love you. I think I have loved you from that first moment we met back in Pennsylvania. You remember that? I'm sure you do. You're my best friend and love you and I will love you forever. And I know you're probably done with me completely, but I need you to know that I'll never stop being in love with you and I'm sorry."

"There's four of them!" Dean cursed as he climbed back into the Impala. Investigations had lead you to a dilapidated house set way back off the highway. The place had been abandoned for years, and was now apparently a rest stop for a wolf pack.

"So let's get going then." You said, reaching for the door handle.

"We need Sam."

"We do not need Sam. I can handle myself thank you. I've done this before." You got out of the car and pulled your gun out from the backseat and shoved it in your waistband next to the silver knife.

It was hard to believe you could survive with your heart beating so fast; it pounded in your chest as you followed Dean up the driveway to the house. He peeked in a window when you got close, counting monsters again. Two were in the front room, one off to the back, and the fourth was missing. You made your way to the back of the house, hoping to catch them by surprise. You held your gun in your hand and stood back as Dean picked the lock on the back door letting you both inside. The pounding in your chest rose up to your ears, blocking out any sound around you. You swallowed hard and followed Dean through a filthy kitchen towards the first werewolf. He was sitting alone at what must have been a nice dining table a hundred years ago. He was an older man with a thick gray beard; he didn't hear you come in, but must have smelled something new in the air because he turned around when Dean stepped into the room, gun aimed at his chest. The man growled and started to stand up just as Dean fired a silver bullet from his gun, hitting him right in the chest. The wolf fell forward over the table and Dean turned to you and nodded at the front room. It was on.

The two wolves heard the gunshot and rushed towards you and Dean; he ran forward towards the male, gun aimed and ready. You hung back a bit, aiming your gun at the small female in the room before you. You took a shot and missed, hitting the wall; not even close to your target. You cursed and took aim again. Dean took down his monster and came to your aid, shooting her dead with one shot. He looked at you and you shrugged. "I'm sorry!" You yelled, "I missed!"

"Y/N!" Dean yelled back, trying to warn you about the last wolf who was coming up behind you. You didn't realize what was happening until you felt yourself being pulled backwards by strong hands, your gun falling from your grip. You screamed and twisted against the hands trying to get away. The wolf pulled you back until you were against his chest, his arm around your shoulders, lifting you up off your feet. You kicked backwards trying to reach him, his claws dug into your skin and you screamed again. "Shoot him!" You yelled to Dean, his gun pointed towards you.

"I can't! I'll hit you!" He held the gun in both hands, steadying it, trying to get a clear shot.

"Just do it!" You reached under your jacket and grabbed the knife hiding in jeans. You kicked again, this time hitting the wolf's knee and spun around quickly when his grip on you loosened. You slashed at him with the knife, hitting his arm and then raised it high ready to plunge it into his heart, but he blocked you with his arm and his clawed hand ripped through your stomach. Your breath stopped, eyes wide with pain and shock. The wolf lunged forward, knocking you to the floor. His hands flew at you, claws gouging and ripping your skin. You fought back the best you could but he was too strong and the pain was burning through your body. He bared his teeth and brought his mouth down towards you as Dean finally got the shot and brought him down, firing twice into his chest. The werewolf fell down dead on top of you.

Dean pulled him off and knelt down beside you surveying the damage. You tried to sit up but couldn't, it hurt too much to move. You could feel a warm wetness flowing from your stomach; it was blood, you knew that. Dean put his arm under your neck and helped you sit up against the wall.

"Hey, hey, it's ok. You're ok." He said.

"I'm dizzy." You said, your head spinning as you sat up, your ears ringing from the gunshots.

Dean pressed his hand to your stomach and you screamed. "I'm sorry…" His voice was shaking. He took off his jacket and then his flannel and balled it up, pressing it to your wound. "Hold this, press hard…" He put your hand on the shirt; it was getting hard to focus, your vision was blurring. "Hey! Y/N… hey! You can do this. Hold it!" You obeyed, barely able to keep your eyes open.

"Dean…"

"I know. I know… hold on." He picked you up gently and you cried out again, your head rolling back against his arm. "Stay awake Y/N…I'm gonna get you help. Hold on."

"Dean… I'm sorry." You whispered.

"Shut up with your 'sorrys'. You're gonna be fine." He said, carrying you out of the house and laying you down in the back seat of the car. He sped away, wheels screeching. You held the shirt to your stomach, struggling to stay awake. You cried out with every bump in the road; every turn causing you to shift painfully to stay on the seat. You moved the shirt and looked down at your wound. Dark red blood streamed out, running down your sides and arms and onto the black leather. Your head was buzzing, the edges of your vision growing lighter, fading to white.

"Sam…"

"Just hold on Y/N." Dean called, watching you in the rearview.

"Tell him I…"

Dean called your name again and pressed the gas pedal to the floor as you slipped away, eyes fluttering closed, your breath slowing.

The darkness faded as you opened your eyes, blinking and trying to focus on what was around you. The noises and hard bed underneath you told you were in a hospital. Your mouth was dry and your body ached; you cleared your throat and looked around.

"Hey there." Dean appeared in your line of sight, sitting next to your bed. He looked pale and tired.

"You look surprised to see me." You croaked.

Dean shook his head and grabbed your hand. "No. Not a bit. I knew you'd be fine." He smiled but his green eyes gave away the lie.

"Well I'm surprised." You said with a small laugh, your voice coming back slowly.

"Eh, it was iffy for a bit there, you lost a ton of blood, but you'll be alright. Just a scratch." He flashed another smile to reassure you and sighed.

You looked around the room to see it was empty but for the two of you. The threat of tears tickled behind your eyes. "He didn't come." It wasn't a question. You knew Sam didn't show up.

Dean shrugged, not knowing what to say. "He… no he didn't. I called him. He'll be here."

"You talked to him?"

"No, but he'll come." Dean sat back and rubbed his face, trying to push away the exhaustion.

"Why don't you go get a coffee or something? You've probably been sitting here staring at me for hours." You gave him a sad smile, feeling bad that he hadn't slept.

"Yeah maybe. You want anything?"

"A cheeseburger and a ride home would be nice."

Dean laughed and got up. "I'll be right back." He said and planted a quick kiss on the top of your head. You pushed him away playfully.

Sam hadn't come. Dean told him what happened and he still didn't come. You could be dead and he wouldn't know, or care. How could he do this? How could he turn off his feelings that quickly? After everything that you'd been through, one mistake and he walked away from you forever. Did you really mean that little to him to begin with? A sob broke free from your throat and fresh pain rippled through your abdomen. There was no use fighting the tears anymore; no one could see them. You let them flow.

You must have cried yourself to sleep because the next thing you knew you were being woken up by people arguing in the hallway. The door was only half open and they spoke in hushed voices so you couldn't make out most of the words, but you knew it was Sam and Dean fighting. You'd heard it a thousand times over the last year.

Sam! Sam was here. Your moment of hope and excitement was quickly pushed away when you saw him as he opened the door. His face was the blank mask again, unreadable and silent. He paused in the doorway, his eyes looking over you.

"Thanks for coming," you said, with a sarcastic chuckle. You hadn't meant it to sound like that, but that's what came out. "You gonna say anything?"

He walked into the room and stood at the foot of your bed, towering over you and looking down with red-rimmed eyes. You could see him better now and saw that he was upset; he had been crying. He began to speak but his voice cracked so he cleared his throat and tried again: "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm just great, thanks." You hated your tone, but you were mad too. Mad that he didn't come rushing here the moment Dean called him. You tried to sit up again and the movement pulled your wound. You bit your lip and tried to stifle the cry.

Sam moved over to the side of the bed and looked down at you with concern. "Sit down Sam, you're too goddamned tall. I can't see you." He obeyed and sat in the empty chair.

Neither of you spoke for a long while. You wanted to yell at him, make him talk to you. You hated the silence, but you knew it wouldn't help so you bit your tongue and waited. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed your hand, holding it in both of his. He spoke quietly with his head down: "I'm sorry." He said.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about Sam."

He looked up finally and met your eyes. "Shut up Y/N. Let me talk." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry that I waited so long to tell you how I felt. That's my fault. In my life…every time I've had anything good its been ripped away. And I was scared to have that happen with you. I should have told you. I'm sorry." He looked away from you, a few tears escaping the corners of his hazel eyes. "I love you Y/N. I do. But I don't think I can get past what happened with you and Dean. It's…I don't think I can do that."

It was your turn to look away and you wiped at your eyes roughly with your free hand. "Sam…please."

"I'm glad you're OK." He said and leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on your hand. His lips lingered there for a few seconds, his eyes were closed and you felt his tears as they rolled down onto your skin. You turned your hand and tried to touch his face, to wipe his tears away, but he sat back quickly, drawing in a harsh breath to clear his head. He stood up and walked to the door, your mind filled with a thousand things you wanted to say, but you knew there was nothing that would change his mind. "Sam…" You cried his name, unable to say anything else.

He stopped, shook his head slowly and walked out. And that was it: it was over. You covered your face in your hands and let it all go.

-The End-

A/N: Thanks everyone for reading and liking and commenting! I feel like this isn't finished yet... but who knows. Maybe a sequel in the future. Much love, Beka