*I apologize for continuing to make you wait for chapters, I'm just trying to tie this up some how but we'll see how long that takes... Anyway, enjoy. Read and review.

Sam felt a cold grip in his chest when he read the words. He could hear his own voice saying it from weeks ago but he knew the voice was even clearer in Dean's mind, however feverish and deranged it might currently be.

Sam took a few cautious steps closer to Dean, hoping to assess the damage he'd done to himself without provoking any further rage. Each step closer was accompanied by a strong desire to retreat, he didn't want to face this. He didn't want to face the fact that his words now bared consequence when coupled with the twisted mind of his kill-crazy brother.

"Dean?" he forced himself to say.

Dean raised his head and stared at Sam. His eyes were having trouble focusing but once they did they were as dead as they'd been when he'd last seen them open. Despite this, he gave Sam a weak, tired smile and said,

"Hey."

Sam slowly knelt down beside him, seeing Crowley put out a warning hand out of the corner of his eye.

"How're you doing?" Sam asked nervously but with a conviction that he hoped would sound convincingly in control.

"I fucked the light up a little." Dean said tonelessly, gesturing vaguely toward the ceiling.

Sam glanced up and then back at Dean, "I can see that. Here, let me look at your hand a second."

Dean didn't offer his hand but he didn't reject it when Sam picked it up himself.

If he wanted to kill Sam now, it seemed he just didn't have the energy to.

Sam examined the damage and then looked up at Dean again.

"This is pretty deep, I should probably stitch it."

That seemed to register and Dean withdrew his hand quickly, looking anywhere but at Sam.

"No, no, you, uh... It's fine, just go." He looked around at his writing with a coherency that hadn't been there before, "I promise I'll stop finger painting, just go, I'll be fine."

Sam stared at Dean, perplexed and also curious as to his state of mind. Incoherent. Coherent. Homicidal. Reasonable. Insomniac. Narcoleptic. He seemed to be flying from each end of the spectrum with such remarkable frequency that Sam wondered if he'd ever reach equilibrium.

"Go." Dean said with a hint of urgency this time.

So, he's leaning towards homicidal again, Sam thought.

Despite not knowing what was going to happen to Dean the longer he stayed here, Sam knew it was best he leave him to whatever it was.

"I'll just clean and wrap your hand and I'll go, alright?"

Dean nodded but looked uncertain. Like he was fighting something back but he wasn't sure how long he could.

Sure enough, by the time Sam returned, Dean had retreated into himself and all that remained on the surface were the dead eyes that blacked out the darkness hiding behind them.

"Dean?"

"Careful," Sam jumped turning to see Crowley standing in the doorway, "The trap is broken."

He walked in and touched the scratched up paint in the Devil's Trap with the toe of his shoe.

Sam didn't say anything. He bit back the desire to repaint the circle because he didn't really need it. Did he?

He approached with caution but Dean was entirely unresponsive. Behind him, Sam heard Crowley get the can of spray paint from outside the door, but he ignored it.

"Dean."

Crowley sprayed down a red strip of paint, repairing the trap, and he backed away towards the door.

Sam stepped over the older lines of the trap, touching Dean's shoulder gently, hoping the contact might shake him.

And it did.

Dean was on Sam in a second, pinning him to the ground he was choking him. Sam tried to repeat his brother's name, scream, anything to reach the deeply stuffed away person that was really Dean. But he couldn't make a sound.

Crowley had rushed back in and tried to reach in and separate the brothers but the trap restricted his reach.

"No, no..." Dean hissed through gritted teeth, trying to pry his hands off Sam's neck.

Sam joined in the struggle, trying to remove Dean's abnormally strong grip from his throat.

Finally, Dean let go. While shaking his head to avoid blacking out, Sam crawled backwards away from Dean.

"I'm sorry." Dean croaked, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

He picked himself up and reached out to help Sam and stopped abruptly. He reached out, stopped abruptly. His eyes fell on the Devil's Trap that ended just where his arm length was restricted to.

Fear and panic flooded his system and he looked to his younger brother who was using the wall to stand himself up.

"What... What does that mean? Sam-"

Sam turned away from him, tears shining in his eyes, he left the dungeon, followed by Crowley.

"Sam?" Dean called after him, "Sammy?!"

He felt destroyed. Ashamed. Broken. And he deserved it. And Sam was smart to leave and Dean hoped for his brother's sake that he'd get as far away from Dean as possible.

Despite how desperately the now conscious and aware Dean needed him.

Dean laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling but not seeing it. The only thing he could focus on was the voice of a dream from years ago.

"You can't escape me, Dean! You're gonna die! And this? This is what you're going to become!"

He'd been so afraid, before going to Hell that he'd become a demon down there. But he didn't. He'd become something much worse. An unrestricted version of himself. He wasn't corrupted he was freed.

And it had felt good.