more apologies: they probably seem like crap at this point. to be honest, I was completely certain that I would have an unlimited amount of time to sit and work on this, but just when I got settled, I was faced with two very "thorough" classes that literally take up four to six hours on a good night. all I can say on the matter is that it's a darn good thing I happen to like studying anything history related and manage to force myself into focusing on trig, which I'm bad at to begin with, therefore have to work harder at to keep up with. if only I weren't such a cold hard nerd and didnt care so much, my work would really only last an hour to two. so for that, I'm very, very sorry, it is probably my fault for taking so long. With the first exams behind me, I had a break this weekend and pounced. I had been adding maybe two sentences when I could(a little more on One Fateful Night), but this time I had a little bit of time today to work on it, and so I did! Unfortunately, I will be working anywhere from eight to ten hours on most saturdays for a while, and Ive always had a shot sunday with three hours of hometime(I happen to enjoy church quite a bit), so I supose we'll have to see when I can squeeze in writing time because by god, it must be done!! Im flat out skipping next saturday, screw it all, and staying home. I plan to do nothing at all except the stupid assignments I'm sure I'll have and work on finishing Gone. Since I skipped church today that's what I've been doing. There's also that pesky writer's block to contend with. I thought it was gone, but I was sadly mistaken. anyone have any helpful tips? you have no idea how much I could use them.
A/N: this can be a teeny bit hard to follow, but I shall add a quick summary at the bottom(no peaking) and if you don't get something, just ask me and I'll fill you in.
also: I've spent a bit more time working on chapter three of One Fateful Night, and it's getting a little too lengthy. I'm going to have to split a bit and make it into a four-part fic instead of the three chapters I was planning on. Then again this was originally supposed to have ten, and at this stage, I'm thinking more along fifteen... but look for chapter three, it should be up either today or tomorrow!
reviewers: I love you. there's no other way to express my gratitude. thank you so much for taking the time to read and share your opinions. it means the world to me. thankyou, thankyou!

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Dean's consciousness was slow coming. He blinked in confusion, recognizing pain before remembering the cause. The constant throb in the back of his head had to be a bad sign. He resisted the urge to moan as the agony in his chest registered with his brain with every shaky breath he took. Everything hurt and he wanted nothing more than to relinquish his hold on reality with a blissful sleep. He was leaning against something solid, hard and somehow soft, and though he had no conscious idea of what it was, he settled against it, turning his head to rest his cheek against it.

The image Sam wincing in pain found its way into his mind.

He jackknifed into sitting position, lost in a sudden wave of hurt. He gasped, clutching at his side in a pitiful attempt to subdue the pain. He stole a glance to his left arm as panic bubbled in his throat the moment he realized only one hand came to press against his ribs and saw it limp at his side. Dean was shaking and he couldn't stop. His arm wouldn't move but it still fucking hurt, and now he couldn't breathe. His head swung back to the wall opposite of him, and forced another weakened moan of pain as his vision gave way to black and pain. He clutched his skull in vain, wishing he had a second hand to press the ache back in. Just as he began to sway, tipping to his right in a beeline for the floor, a hand wrapped around his arm to rest against the cuff of his neck and steadied him back against the hard yet soft surface behind him. He grimaced, angry at his weakness and blind acceptance of the hand. Then another arm was against his chest, pressingly lightly in assurance and putting a hand to his temple, fingers wary of the wound on the back of his head, and he knew who it was.

"Sam?"

"Yeah." Sam's chest rumbled with speech against his back.

Dean sighed in relief, not at all relieved, and leaned his head back in exhaustion. He stared ruefully at his unmoving hand resting limply against his thigh before turning his head against the crook of Sam's neck to gain an angled view of his brother's face. He couldn't help but voice his shock in an audible gasp that caused his voice to hitch. "Sammy?"

Sam's eyes traveled slower than they should have but made it to Dean's. He chewed the inside of his cheek.

Dean growled, tone low and menacing. "Where is she?"

"I'm okay." He didn't sound okay by the way he barely rasped it out.

The left side of Sam's face was nothing but a black and purple bruise, marred only by a line of crimson running from his hairline to his jaw, and the sight viciously rid Dean of his anger and left him with the painful emotions of failure. His lip was still bleeding, despite his best efforts to stem it with his teeth. A deep cut ran from his right temple to just below his eye and finished draining around the corner of his mouth. Dean grimaced at every bruise, every abrasion. He didn't really want to see what the rest of Sam looked like; didn't want to feel the guilt that he knew was causing his stomach to twinge in pain. Or maybe that was his ribs. He opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. I'm sorry didn't seem to cover it. Why did he have to come? He shifted away from Sam's grip and rested his back against the wall, not really comfortable with removing the touch of their shoulders.

"I'm okay," Sam repeated, careful to keep his voice steady this time.

Dean frowned. He wanted to inspect for more wounds but was afraid to move, afraid to face his own pain, and more afraid of finding another gaping hole in his brother's side than he had ever been afraid of anything in his life.

"You okay?" Sam broke the silence. He knew better than to expect a straight answer, but then again, he also knew he didn't really need to ask to know that Dean was far from being okay.

"I'm good considering," Dean supplied a classic response to the familiar question. Then he swallowed and avoided Sam's eyes by leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I can't move my arm."

"What?" Dean could feel Sam's eyes burning against the bare skin on his forearm. He tried not to look at the rip in his brother's sleeve and imagine the gash that must have torn through Sam's skin as well. Sam's presence kept his hatred at bay. There was no need to question who had caused his injuries, so he focused on the question he had just been asked.

"Dead weight," Dean restated bluntly. "Hurts like a bitch though," he added somewhat thoughtfully. "'Thought it'd be numb, you know?"

Sam sat straighter as his fingers ghosted over Dean's wound, hovering above the sweltering flesh. A two inch slit was half sealed and reopened was both red, yellow, blue, puffy, and swollen; one big oozy mess. "All primary colors," he stated as half-heartedly as possible, not really able to smile.

Dean snorted in response, his eyes still focused elsewhere, listening hard for Sam's steady heartbeat for self assurance. He couldn't help but remember how many times it had stopped in his mind.

Sam's eyes focused on the part that had recently been forced open by means of a human thumb and lingered on the lengthy gash that veered away from the entry. That part was new. That part still looked like it would start bleeding again at any given moment. That part was less of a threat than the original wound though. Sam didn't need to focus on the new part. He needed to pay attention to the old one. "It doesn't look so good."

"Tell me something I don't know." Dean finally looked back to Sam, not really interested in moving his head to face his brother all the way. His eyes told Sam he didn't really want to know something he didn't.

Sam smiled sympathetically, trying to pretend it didn't hurt his split lip. "You've got a pretty bad infection." He left it at that. He didn't want to say what he was really thinking and he probably didn't need to judging by the way Dean set his jaw and looked away again. Dean didn't deserve to lose an arm. He didn't deserve anything he'd been dealt since that night half an eternity ago in the parking deck.

"You never answered me." Dean swallowed, not interested in dwelling on the mobility or lack thereof in his arm; more than a little interested venting his growing hatred. "Where are they?" He didn't bother to mask his contempt or hide his rage.

Sam swallowed as if unsure of his answer before looking at Dean with a hint of amusement and more than a little concern. "Fighting."

"What?" Dean's eyes shot back to Sam's. "What do you mean, fighting?"

"I mean fighting," Sam supplied as if there were nothing more to say.

"Over what, the wallpaper?"

This time Sam set his jaw, obvious discomfort marring his damaged face. "It must've cooled down though. I can't hear walls falling anymore." It was hard to pinpoint where seriousness came to an end and sarcasm began.

Dean eyed his brother, frustration ebbing. "What was the fight over, Sam?" The idea of a physical altercation between the two was more than enough to worry about, but Sam neglecting to identify the cause was as unsettling as they came. "Sammy?"

"Me," Sam averted his eyes, "you."

"Come again?"

"It was like..." Sam considered his words, knowing this was crossing the very thin line Dean had constructed many years ago. "Like they couldn't pick which... choose who..." Sam ran a hand through his hair, "God, they can't decide who to... She wanted to..."

I'm going to tear him open and let you watch him bleed.

Dean blinked, trying to ignore the stupid memory; failing to block the voice. Like hell he'd watch.

"But he didn't..." Sam stopped his feeble attempt to explain, bringing his gaze back to Dean, confusion sketched across his face, "This is so screwed up."

Dean only nodded.

"I don't know how to... how am I supposed to explain something this messed up?" Sam pressed his palms into his eyes, forcing whatever information he'd been trying to spill back inside his head and keeping it there.

"She wants you dead," to get to me, "but he," Dean considered his words, not liking the repercussions of the truth, "doesn't."

Sam nodded, hands hiding his worried eyes.

Dean didn't need to ask why. Sam's incessant fear of going dark-side spoke for itself. "But he what, wants to finish me?"

Sam's fingers gripped at his scalp, his palms pressing hard enough to bring forth white specks in the midst of the darkness behind his eyelids. That's exactly what he wanted.

"Fuck," Dean breathed, leaning back against the wall.

"Pretty much," Sam agreed, nodding with an exasperated sigh, removing the pressure on his eyes to rest against the rough surface next to his brother.

"So they really got at it?"

"Went crazy," Sam elaborated, neither sparing the other a glance.

"Wish my sorry ass had been present for that one."

Sam snorted, a small grin playing on his lips as Dean did the same. Before they were aware of their actions they were laughing, shoulder-shaking, lip splitting, hysterically laughing. It was a desperate kind of laughter without a drop of humor; the kind of laughter heard just before shit really hits the fan and it's too damn late to step aside; the kind that signifies the end and masks tears of pain with false tears of joy. Though they knew they weren't really laughing anymore, neither could bring themselves to stop. It was the way it always had been, and the way it would invariably always be. It was Sam and Dean against the world, even when the world came down to a worn down warehouse and hollowed laughter.

Then a wall crumbled, the door shattered, and the world began to crash.

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summary of sammy-speak: Meg wants Sam dead because she's a demon of her word, and Dean's fully aware of why(him). Yellow Eyes is a bit too interested in Sam, his favorite for leading that army of his, to let him go so easily. Hell hath no furry like a woman scorned though, right?
tell your friends: chapter three of One Fateful Night should be out in no time at all!