(bangs head) Thanksgiving, since Thanksgiving I've been trying to update. Geeze does this freakin site hate my guts. I get no email alerts, no messages, no updates, nada.

On a happier note, I am absolutely humbled by the amount of reviews I received for the last chapter. It really put a smile on my face and gave me the kick up the back side I needed to plough on with writing this story. So thank you all so much, reviews really are the fuel for a writer's fire.

I hope you all are still enjoying the story, I've been reading the reviews carefully and (grins) I can see some people are piecing together what is actually going on, without even realising it.

Thanks again for the reviews and without further babble, on with 'Believe in Me'…

Chapter Ten- Believe in Me

Sam Winchester's eyes flickered open slowly, finally allowing for his eyes to focus on his surroundings. He was surprised to find himself in Dean's bed.

Confused to what he was doing there he turned his head in the direction of the door and almost jumped when he spotted Dean standing in the doorway a mug of something hot in his hand.

" Good morning…" Dean said trying to keep his voice light and happy.

" Hey…" Sam said in a drained voice.

Then the sleeping pain in his body slowly kicked in and he winced slightly more loudly than he'd expected.

Dean looked at him sympathetically and walked over to his bed with the mug in his hand.

" See if you can drink this…" Dean said holding out the mug. Sam nodded slowly and eased himself ever so cautiously into a sitting position and could already feel the overwhelming sensation of wanting to pass out creeping up on him.

Dean placed the hot drink on his night stand and as gently as he could, helped Sam sit up, trying desperately not to add to his brother's obvious pain.

Sam smiled meekly at Dean who sat a few inches in front of him.

" Thanks…" Sam said as Dean held him the drink. Sam gave the hot drink a funny look as he took a hesitant sip. He instantly reeled from the taste," Tastes funny.."

" I've already told you it's because of the coffee…" Dean said with a shrug, " How are you feeling, lousy coffee aside…?"

" I'll live.." Sam said with a sigh as he took another sip of the drink, " What time is it..?"

" Just after 11am…" Dean said glancing at his watch, " You should probably just try and take things easy today. Last few weeks have been tough for you…"

Sam stared at Dean; he could barely believe what he was hearing. His hazel eyes instantly grew darker, his face set in a stubborn mould. He could already see Dean's facial expression change.

" Aren't you even going to ask how I managed to get you into bed..?" Dean kidded as he thought back to an earlier conversation he'd had with Sam; anything but deal with the conversation that Sam was about to start, " And I didn't even buy you dinner you cheap bitch…"

" Did you sweep the place..?" Sam asked in a steady voice.

" Yeah, a crap load of glass everywhere, but it's tidy-ish…" Dean said looking at Sam strangely.

Sam shook his head, which he instantly regretted, he then grew angry.

" Not the ground, the camera, did you check it with the nightvision..?"

Dean swallowed with a heavy sigh and shot Sam a pained look. Sam glanced over at Dean, his pain temporarily forgotten, his face livid.

" You still haven't done it..?" Sam hissed anger clear on his face, " You promised me Dean, you promised me..!"

" I did look Sam, it came back clean…" Dean admitted," Nothing at all…"

Sam looked like he'd been hit in the face with a bat.

" Look, Sammy, it's not like I'm not listening…" Dean said scrubbing his face with his hands, " You're gonna just have to..-"

" If you say trust you again I'm gonna throw this friggin mug at you…!" Sam shouted at him.

" Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you are gonna have to trust..-" Dean said as he side stepped suddenly as the blue mug smashed into the door, the contents of the funny tasting coffee running down the door and onto the floor.

Dean spun and looked at the spot the mug had hit. His eyes wide in surprise he looked at Sam.

" What the hell is wrong with you..?!" Sam shouted at Dean,

Dean's mouth dropped open.

" You throw a mug at my head and you have the audacity to ask me what's wrong with me..?" Dean snapped at him, " Sammy, I understand that you're under a great deal of strain and I know things are hard…-"

" DEAN…!!" Sam shouted at him, growing more angry by the second, " There is nothing wrong with me, this is not in my head…!"

" I think you should get some rest…" Dean said looking at the broken pieces of the blue mug, " I'll make you another drink, if you promise not to hurl it at me…"

Sam folded his arms across his chest, his anger clear on his face. Dean chewed his bottom lip in frustration, he just felt like knocking some sense into Sam.

" You really think, that I dreamt up the entire scenario last night..?" Sam muttered, " You really think that I trashed our home, wreaked all our stuff..?"

" Sammy…" Dean said with a sigh.

Suddenly it just felt too hard to admit to what Dean really felt. He knew Sam had imagined it, he knew Sam was ill, he had naively hoped that Sam would be ok after a couple of hours sleep; but he'd been wrong.

Very wrong.

" How many stitches did you put into me last night, or did I imagine that also..?" Sam bitterly asked as Dean stood at the foot of his bed.

" Thirty.." Dean said with a sigh, " Look, Sam, I'll check..-"

" Do you think I did that myself..?" Sam mused as he finally looked up at his brother, " You think I took your knife and slashed myself, you think I got bored and picked up some guy from the street and paid him to beat the shit out of me, do you think I asked some guy to drug me..?"

Dean's head shot up.

" Drugged you..?" Dean asked his mouth instantly growing dry, his desperation to get out of the room suddenly overwhelming.

" It's the only explanation I can think of…" Sam said carefully studying Dean's guarded reaction., " I just felt so weird, like my own body wouldn't even move….

" Well, it's like you said yourself, you've been feeling really weird lately…" Dean said trying to paper over the cracks in the conversation.

" There is something I don't understand though…" Sam said rubbing the side of his head intently as he spoke to Dean who had perched himself now at the foot of the bed.

" Can you just listen to me for once and rest…" Dean admitted, " I have to go out for a little while, need to buy some glass for the veranda…"

" He could have killed me, Dean, I mean evil Dean, he had so many opportunities to kill me and he just didn't take them; like he was playing with me, waiting for something…"

" Right…" Dean quietly looking at Sam, " Look, I won't be long ok.."

" You're just gonna ignore me aren't you…" Sam said shaking his head, " You're just gonna pretend like I said nothing, like this is all a figment of my imagination…"

" Sammy, last night you said you didn't even know what was going on anymore.." Dean admitted, " You'll be fine ok, I was looking around on the internet and they say it takes a very long time for people to recover from head trauma…"

" This is nothing to do with friggin head trauma this is to do with the trauma that took place last night…" Sam spat, " And if you'd been home in the first place instead of busy getting yourself laid, you'd have seen it all for yourself…!"

Dean stared at Sam, his mouth open in surprise.

" So don't you dare sit there and patronise me…" Sam hissed, " Go on, get out and get the glass that I apparently shot through with a gun…"

Dean stood up and scrubbed his face with his hands.

" Get some rest…" Dean ordered in a tight voice.

" Where's my brother, where's the Dean I grew up with..?" Sam suddenly demanded, " You know three months ago, you'd have torn this place apart looking for a way to stop this thing, with even less to go on.."

" Sam…-" Dean said finally growing angry, " Would you just give it a rest. I'm trying to cut you some slack here…"

" I don't want slack, I want help, I want an explanation.." Sam demanded, and finally sighed as he watched as Dean picked up his wallet, " I just don't understand you…"

" Look at me Sam…" Dean finally said as he shoved his wallet in his pocket, " I promise you, that I will looks into this spirit as soon as I get us locked up nice and safe in this house. If I had my own way, I'd take you with me, but from the looks of it you can't even move…"

Sam stayed quiet and Dean took that as a yes.

" Dean…" Sam asked in a small voice, his head hung low, " You do believe me right..? About the spirit…."

" Of course I do…" Dean lied as he forced a smile onto his face, " Just give me some time to think this through…"

" I don't think we have much time…" Sam admitted, " This thing, it's after you too, it went after you in the fir-"

" Hey, listen, let that head of yours drop down a couple of gears, and get some sleep…" Dean said staring at Sam, " I won't be gone long, but promise me, you'll stay here and not move around…"

" I promise…" Sam said with a nod as he allowed himself to slump back down amongst the pillows. " I'm feeling sleepy anyway…"

A smile flickered briefly on Dean's face.

" Good boy…" Dean said as he walked out his bedroom and returned with a cell phone in his hand. This time he handed it to Sam.

The bizarre look on Sam's face said it all.

" Dean I swear to you, you never gave me this phone…" Sam said shaking his head, " I'd remember that, don't you think..?"

" Don't worry about that…" Dean said with a nod, " Just keep it with you, I'll call you to make sure you haven't moved from this bed.."

Sam shot him a rueful smile as he stood up from the bed again.

" You want anything from outside..?" Dean asked as he double checked for his car keys.

" No.." Sam said letting his head rest on the pillow, as he watched as Dean headed for the bedroom door, " You know, I will figure it out.."

" Figure what out..?" Dean asked slowly as he turned and looked innocently at Sam.

" Whatever the heck is going on here…" Sam said with a sleepy yawn as he could feel himself being drawn into slumber, " And whatever you're hiding…"

Dean watched carefully as Sam's eyes flickered shut and his breathing dropped back into the steady pattern.

Shaking his head as he headed for the front door, Dean sighed loudly.

At least the drugs had finally kicked in….

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Dean Winchester sat in the Impala his head resting on the steering wheel.

Dear God, could his life get anymore complicated.

He hated the lying, he hated the deceiving.

…..I have to tell Sam, I just have to…. Dean thought to himself. Sure they were brothers, and while growing up they sometimes kept secrets from each other, but they were always stupid ones.

This one was different and Dean was finding it difficult to understand why he couldn't just confess all to Sam.

Just to tell him the truth, to tell him that Sam had died. Tell him that dad had just taken off and left them both for dead. Tell Sam that thanks to their twisted, demented lives, his little brother had died.

Dean's chest tightened.

Sam had died.

The feelings came flooding back in a wave of nausea that Dean had not expected. It had happened two weeks ago; no way in hell should he still be feeling like this. It was almost like something was causing him to feel this pain over and over again.

To feel the filthy hole that had been inside of him, to feel that crushing sensation when all you wanted to do is die right along beside him. To feel that over whelming sensation of abandonment, loneliness.

…STOP IT…. Dean begged himself as he shoved the key in the ignition and hurriedly backed off the drive……Stop thinking about losing Sammy…

And every single time Dean did, the fear crept into him again.

" You failed him Dean, you failed him…"

Dean shook his head as he turned right onto the road, driving past their beach side house.

" It's all your fault. You didn't take care of him. Sam will die and it'll all be your fault…."

" He'll be fine…" Dean whispered to himself in the car. He suddenly realised he was talking to himself and shook his head to clear the voice out.

" He's so ill Dean. He's losing it mentally. Seeing all those things, doing all those things. He cut himself up real bad last night. You should have been there to save him, but you weren't…"

" Just shut up..!" Dean suddenly shouted as he glanced around the Impala.

" The tablets, the combination you've been given him. It's the only reason he's still alive. Keep giving it to him at every occasion; you'll see Sammy will be just fine. You can save your brother…"

Dean shook his head again, trying desperately to clear the voice. He could feel the bitter taste return to his mouth.

Drugging your brother.

He was sure that was illegal. Not that Dean ever cared about the law.

Well, he wasn't exactly drugging him, he was taking care of him like any loving family member would do; and Dean certainly did love him. Fair enough he hadn't exactly said it in as many words, but Sam knew.

Well he was pretty sure that Sam knew.

His little brother was seeing things and not in his whole vision formula which Dean was still getting used to; Sammy was literally just cracking up.

Instead of sleeping, Dean had been up the remaining couple of hours sweeping the entire apartment for signs of sulphur; Dean had drawn blank, in fact he hadn't found any sign of demonic activity or spiritual or in fact, anything.

Sammy really had imagined the entire thing. Although how he'd managed to do so much damage by himself still remained a total mystery to Dean.

Why Sam would slash his own side open, to go through all the pain of the stitches. What on earth did Sam think he would achieve..?

Dean heaved in a heavy sigh, he realised he'd been doing that a lot since the crash.

Worrying.

He was sure it was giving him wrinkles.

He wasn't happy with drugging Sam. He'd mixed in another dose of painkillers, antibiotic inflammatory things and then the third bottle. Dean couldn't remember collecting the third bottle of pills, but they were in the bag with Sammy's name on it. He had noticed ages ago that Sam had never taken them, and Dean for the last day and a half was making sure Sam took them; without him knowing.

If Sam had just been a good boy and drank the coffee this morning; he'd have slept through the entire day. He would have given Dean his thinking time.

Man did Dean need his thinking time. He needed time to deal with this bizarre situation.

Instead angry Sammy had hurled the mug at Dean.

Still, he had drunk a quarter of the stuff, and that would keep him demobilised for at least the next few hours.

Enough time for Dean to order this sheet of glass and get his ass home….

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Sam Winchester pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed. That firstly wasn't the brightest idea he'd had in the last twenty four hours.

He looked at Dean's old cell phone that sat on his brother's bedside table.

He would swear on his big brother's life that Dean had never ever given him that phone.

Dean had offered it to him, but he had declined it, insisting that he wanted to get a newer one, one that he could take embarrassing pictures of Dean with. He'd just not got round to buying one yet.

Dean just had not believed in him.

That bugged the hell out of Sam.

Sighing out loud, Sam studied his brother's bedroom. He couldn't remember the last time Dean and him both had separate rooms. It had been very strange the first couple nights; for both of them. Eventually they'd both seemed to warm to the idea of having their own space, even if it was just during the night. Sam had grown accustomed to constantly picking up Dean's clothes and stuff which were always scattered around their old motel rooms, while Dean always grew agitated at Sam's complaining at the lack of untidiness.

As Sam studied Dean's room, nothing much had changed. While the floor was miraculously free of clothes, the dressers were already littered with gadgets Sam couldn't even identify, and other Dean like things.

Other than the odd abandoned bag of M&M's, the room pretty much looked very Dean like.

It was almost as if Dean's room wasn't even in the same house. Like it wasn't amongst the carnage of the rest of the house, like it had been removed from the scenario of last night.

Sighing outwardly, Sam slowly got to his feet. Truth was he was starving. Having not eaten anything but popcorn and candy floss yesterday and half of the day completed for today, Sam needed to get something inside of him before his stomach begun protesting and rejecting food altogether.

Struggling to his feet, he was surprised by exactly how weak he felt, but then again having the living day lights kicked out of you often left you feeling weak. Picking up the phone from the nightstand, he clutched it tightly in his hands and shuffled slowly towards the bedroom door. Every muscle in his body cried out, and the younger Winchester refused to even look down at his left hand side where he knew lay the stitches.

He just wasn't ready to investigate that yet. Not with Dean being a jackass and standing there hinting to him that he'd done that to himself.

Hinting to Sam that he may be mad.

Sam was not mad.

He knew what had happened last night, his big brother or something that had appeared to look like Dean had come in here and caused one hell of a mess, and Sam didn't mean just him, the entire house. It was almost like the Dean that had been in here with him and taken great pleasure in destroying most things in the room.

Shuffling into the living room and heading into the kitchen, Sam switched the kettle on and his eyes roamed around the brightly lit room to survey the damage.

Ok, things didn't look too bad. When night fall came again that would be a different story.

Sam begun to wonder if Dean had remembered to get new light bulbs, after all his evil alter ego had blown most of them out last night.

That bugged the heck out of Sam again.

How could Dean have not found any trace of anything in here..? The evil, crazier version of himself had touched, hit, and smashed so many things that he must have left some sort of residue somewhere.

Staring at the now boiled kettle, Sam decided against the drink and turned the tap on and placed a glass under it. Water seemed like a better idea.

Glass in hand, Sam spotted the mini-camcorder lying on the sofa. It was a little bright at the moment, possibly not the best time to use the night vision; he'd have to wait until the sun went down before he could even consider having a go.

...He's the key...Sam suddenly thought, wondering where that notion had come from.

Sam remembered hearing that a couple of times, and was sure that the black swarm like spirit had been talking about Dean. All the dreams he'd had in the hospital, all the odd sensations he'd had inside this beach house, there had to be a pattern, there had to be a point.

There had to be a method to this madness.

All Sam had to do was figure it out.

While Sam's body was still shaky, still ache filled, still reeling from the battering he had taken last night; but even more bizarrely, the younger Winchester was actually feeling better for the first time in almost two weeks.

That again, bugged the hell out of Sam...

xxxxXXXXxxxx

The dark wispy black form danced seductively several feet behind Sam Winchester.

He could feel the younger boy's essences, his power, his untapped purity; it was a sensation that was simply consuming.

But the boy was smart.

Too smart.

He was beginning to piece everything together, beginning to remember things that he was not supposed to remember.

That couldn't happen.

That wouldn't happen.

The demon watched Sam's battered form fiddling with the camcorder; so weak and vulnerable, yet determined.

The black swarm like wisp watched the young psychic, its smouldering red eyes growing intense.

He knew just what to do.

It was time to, really, turn the pressure up on the key...

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Dean twisted the silver ring on his middle finger, agitated. He smiled ironically when he realised what he was doing. Sam had given him that ring for that exact purpose, a worry ring. Instead of getting agitated, or panicking, you simply spun the middle section of the ring to calm yourself down.

Well, that was what it was supposed to do.

When your hands got worried, nervous or panicky you allowed the tension out of your body by twisting the middle part; Sam had given Dean that ring, more as a joke than anything, the nervous gag because Dean didn't do nervous, big brother Dean simply got jumpy and even worse, sometimes would get a little trigger happy.

In other words, Sam had bought Dean the ring to stop his big brother shooting things out of frustration.

And man, was Dean frustrated to no end now.

He'd been in the glass shop for over an hour, and it was taking every ounce of friggin patience Dean had, not to jump behind the counter and serve himself. Well that wasn't true, he'd been served, he was just waiting to pick up the receipt.

He'd heard the people of Florida were nice, friendly laid back kind of people; but this was taking the friggin piss.

Sighing out loud, and gaining annoyed looks from the owners of store, Dean fished out his cell phone, hunted around in the caller address book; and found the number he wanted.

It was time to check in with Sam...

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Sam stared down at the cell phone that started ringing next to him. Seeing the name 'Dean' lighting up the screen, he looked quietly at the empty bedroom and made a face; well Dean wouldn't exactly find out now would he..?

" Hi..." Sam said trying to keep the frustration or anger from before out of his voice. He had to keep it normal, keep it light, and keep the conversation going so he could get as much information from Dean.

" I thought I'd be leaving a voicemail..." Dean said slightly surprised as Sam heard movements around on the phone. " You ok..?"

" Yeah, fine.." Sam said airily, " Did you get the glass..?"

" Still doing it, would you friggin believe it..?" Dean muttered moodily," Molasses moves faster in this town..."

" That sucks..." Sam admitted, " Dean, I was wondering something.."

" Shoot.." Dean said as he glanced at the store clerk who took Dean's paper work.

" Could you tell me exactly what you saw when you came in last night..?" Sam asked in an airy, panic free voice. Sam's insides were a different thing, he was trembling like mad.

" Sammy, what are you up to..?" Dean asked a playful note in his voice, " Just give it a rest ok, in fact give your whole body a rest.."

Sam was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his voice normal; agitated, he clambered tiredly to his feet and paced around the living room.

" Dean, I don't want to fight with you..." Sam admitted, " But I really need to hear your side of this..."

" Why..?" Dean finally asked in annoyance, " What's your problem..?"

" My problem, is none of this is adding up, this whole friggin..-" Sam's voice trailed off, his hand went to his chest as an overwhelming sensation begun to grip his body.

" Sam..?" Dean asked taking the phone from his ear and staring at the connection. His connection to his little brother still remained in tact.

" De...-" Sam whispered as his voice became laboured and riddled with pain as he dropped to his knees, his hands now clutching his stomach...

xxxxXXXXxxxx

The wispy form of evil watched, its crimson eyes inspecting the youngest Winchester doubling up in pain.

They'd toyed with him long enough.

They'd toyed with both brothers long enough.

The final part of the master plan was now in place.

It was time for the key to fit into the lock...

xxxxXXXXxxxx

(sighs) Keys and Locks eh..? What a confusing world Sam and Dean Winchester live in. Thanks for reading and if you get a chance please leave a review. Xxxx