Just because Sammy had some special mind mojo didn't meant Dean would treat him differently. He capped the pen he had been using to draw on Sam's face and faced forward again, grinning. They were stuck in a traffic jam, and Sam had dropped off to sleep half an hour ago.

With a start, Sam woke, just as an ambulance passed on the other side of the road, sirens screaming.

"Hey, sleeping beauty."

Sam groaned, swiping at his mouth with an uncoordinated hand.

"Where are we?"

"Still in traffic, genius." Dean tapped the steering wheel in time to his song and smirked at Sam's hair and decorated face.

"You drew on my face?"

Stupid mind reading tricks. Dean had hoped he could get away with it for at least a day.

"If you weren't thinking so loud about how hilarious I look, you might've," Sam grumbled, speaking to Dean's thoughts. Dean considered that it should be rather off-putting, but since he and his brother knew each other well enough to finish each other's sentences anyway, it was almost normal.

"Shouldn't be too long before we get there," Dean judged, looking at the traffic. "And when I say too long, I mean it should be less than a year or so."

"Ha ha." Sam had tilted the mirror down and was scrubbing at his face. "Could you be any more immature?"

"Would you like me to be?" Dean asked innocently.

Sam rolled his eyes. Out of the corner of Dean's own, he noticed how stiffly Sam was holding himself.

"If you wanna get out and run beside the Impala, chances are you'll get to where we're headed faster than me." Dean tossed Sam a careless grin.

"Mmm." Sam rubbed the heel of his hand into his forehead. "Think it'll be a lot longer?"

"Probably. Headache?" Dean asked casually.

Sam shrugged. "Everyone's irritated. Stressed."

Dean frowned. "Can you go back to sleep, then?"

Sam shrugged, and Dean sighed. This would be a long drive.

"Dude. Not cool. I'm not chatting up some shrink, you're gonna do it."

Sam gave him a look that said he was being stupid. "Dean. If I'm going to get the information by reading his mind, then I can't talk about something else at the same time. Plus, if anyone needs therapy, it's you."

Affronted, Dean glowered."Oh yeah, why's that?"

"You have to deal with looking at that face in the mirror every morning, I mean, that's gotta be traumatic," Sam smirked, pleased with his own cleverness.

"Oh, you little bitch." Dean yanked Sam's hair and Sam yelped.

"Jerk," he muttered, rubbing his head.

"Fine, I'll go get psychoanalyzed. No listening in."

"Yessir." Sam mock saluted and got out of the Impala before Dean could punch him.

The good Dr. Ellicott, irritatingly enough, had a very comfortable couch. "So, Dean, is it?"

Dean slouched on aforementioned too-comfortable couch. "Yeah, that's me."

"What would you like to talk about, today?"

Dean brightened. "I was looking into that asylum. Know anything about it?"

Dr. Ellicott looked at him too knowingly. "Don't avoid the issue here, Dean. We're here to talk about you."

Dean put a strained smile on his face. "Alright, then."

"So, what's going on in your life?"

Dean noticed he was bouncing his leg and consciously stopped it. "On a road trip with my brother. It's great."

"Yes, it could be." Dr. Ellicott gave him a discerning look. "But being in such a small space with a relative can be stressful. How is your relationship with your brother?"
"Great."

"No trouble? No resentment building up?" Ellicott asked mildly.

Dean glowered. "Don't try and put words in my mouth. We're great."

"So, the lack of privacy doesn't bother you?"

Dean licked his lips nervously. "I mean, sure, it'd be nice to have a little more space, but nah, we're good."

"So when you're not road tripping, what do you do?"

He plastered on a grin. "I'm more of a drifter, myself."

"And your brother?" Dr. Ellicott raised an eyebrow.

Dean winced. "Um, yeah, not until recently. His stuff fell through, so he's been tagging along with me."

"I see. And how does that make you feel?"

White hot rage was swirling through Dean's veins, freeing him and lighting up his nerves. He felt blood dripping out of his nose and angrily scrubbed it away. He could hear Sam, the traitor, and crept up behind him. He held his gun out like he would shoot Dean. Well, Dean wouldn't let that happen. He slammed the stock of his gun across Sam's upper back, forcing his little brother to stumble.

"Dean, it's me."

Dean sneered. "I know who you are. Sam. Always doing whatever you want and not even caring about us at all. In my head all the time but you don't even care about me." He had never hated anyone more in his life.

"Dean, this isn't you, c'mon."

"You left me!"

Dean snarled and lunged at him, but Sam dodged. Dean could shoot him, but . . . well, Dean couldn't kill him, right? Though maybe he should. Sam dodged his blow and—Dean shuddered. An electric shock shuddered through his nerves and his brain, like something was trying to fight back. He needed to shoot Sam. No, he didn't, did he? He needed to protect Sam, he had to . . .

"Dean?" There was blood coming out of Sam's nose as well. Dean dazedly stared at him. "Are you back?" Back from where?

He was distracted, and too late he shouted as Ellicott came up behind Sam. "Sammy, look out!"

Dean could vaguely remember Ellicott touching his mind, feeling a shock of pain, and then the unadulterated rage, still in control of his body. Sam, though, went down like a sack of bricks. Dean roared, rage directed—finally—at the right source. He blew Ellicott away and went for the bones.

"Sammy? C'mon, don't die, the ghost is dead. You can handle a little ghost shocking, can't you?" He rolled Sam onto his back and brushed away the blood.

Sam's eyes were trying to focus on him, but couldn't quite make it. Dean bit his lip, hard, levering Sam over his shoulder to carry him out. The kids were probably still in the asylum, but they could get themselves out.

But, well, Dean couldn't exactly carry Sam over a tall fence. Sam pawed at his back and Dean set him down slowly. "Easy, Sammy. You okay?"

Sam managed to cough. "Yeah. That was not fun."

"I hear ya. We need to get out of this place. Should I go get some heavy duty clippers and come back to get you out that way?" Dean asked earnestly.

Sam shook his head slowly. "Just . . . boost me up."

Dean frowned. "Sam . . ."

"Do it." He managed to stand, and Dean sighed heavily.

"Careful when you land."

At least Sam managed to land on his feet, even though his legs did crumple beneath him and he ended up on hands and knees. Dean swung himself over the fence and growled like an angry mama bear, getting Sam into the car. Not that he thought of himself as a mother bear, that was stupid.

"We're okay, right?" Dean asked abruptly, one hundred miles away from Rockford.

"Mmm. Sleep now, chick flick later," Sam mumbled.

"You're a little snot," Dean muttered, but couldn't help feeling guilt pressing heavy in his gut at what he had said to his little brother. "Sam, I didn't mean those things I said."

Sam's hand flopped like a dying fish onto Dean's shoulder. "You did. S'okay. Everyone's got something they're mad about, s'human kinda . . . thingie."

"Thingie?"

"Shaddap. I had my brain fried, I deserve a break."

"So did I," Dean shot back mildly. In the back of his mind he calculated the chances that Ellicott's shocking might've done actual damage. Should they go to a clinic? Get an MRI? He would have to be on the lookout for any signs.

Sam childishly stuck out his tongue.

"So, you are okay? I mean, all that stuff about you leaving . . . I was proud of you getting into Stanford, y'know, I just . . . resent it. I try not to, but I can't really help it." Dean swallowed, gripping the steering wheel tightly. If he were the mind reader, he would be prying into Sam's right now to know what he was thinking. Probably that Dean was a pathetic excuse for an older brother.

Sam sighed, noisily.

"Remember the part where I can read your mind, idiot? I know all of this. Maybe if I didn't know what you were thinking I might get mad, but, well—" Sam shrugged "—we're in this together. And I know you're trying your best. Now, if you want to continue emoting, do so to the car, she'll listen to you." Sam curled up on the seat like he had when he was 13, head on Dean's leg and his own legs awkwardly falling over the edge. Dean felt nostalgia rearing its head and swallowed thickly, letting a hand drop onto Sam's shoulder. He frowned at how bony it was.

"Hey, are you eating enough?" He poked Sam, feeling wiry muscle and ribs too close to the surface.

"Why, need to use me as bait for Hanzel and Gretel's witch?" Sam mumbled.

"Seriously, Sam. I know you're missing Jessica—" underneath Dean's palm, Sam's heart rate picked up "—but that's no excuse for not taking care of yourself."

And . . . darn it. Dean felt tears start to soak into his jeans and wanted to sigh with resignation. Sometimes Jessica's death seemed to hit Sam out of nowhere all over again and rip his lungs out. Sam made to sit up and pull away but Dean kept pressure with his hand on the juncture between Sam's shoulder and neck, eyes on the road. "It's okay, bro."

"I felt her die, Dean," his little brother shuddered under his hand. "She left, and I didn't do anything."

"You couldn't, Sammy. It's okay to miss her, though. But it's not your fault."

Sam closed his eyes, the denim damp underneath him. "Isn't it?" he whispered.

"No. It's not," Dean said strongly, but a glance at Sam's tear-stained face told him that Sam was far from believing that, yet. It was another twenty miles before Sam's body finally relaxed, despite the awkward position, and Dean allowed himself to sigh.

"Look at the two of us, kiddo," he mumbled, the open road like every other they had been on ahead of him. "We're never gonna make it."

A/N: done with finals! Thanks for all the well wishes in your wonderful reviews-they went okay (I hope!) I do have a busy summer planned, but with any luck I'll have enough time/inspiration to keep writing. Let me know what you think, and if you have any ideas where this story could go (especially for an ending . . . I'm really not sure). Reviews are love :)

I CHANGED MY USERNAME FROM MIZU IRUKA TO LANRI NEVER FEAR I AM STILL THE SAME PERSON IT'S ALL GOOD :D