Holy cow- its been a year since I've posted an update- I suppose having children, and finally landing the job I've been after forever had something to do with it, but seriously I don't know where the time has gone! SORRY :/

Good new, I finished up this chapter the last chapter will be done soon! And the story will be completely wrapped up. Hope you all enjoy, and as always leave a comment if you have the time :) ~L

CHAPTER 11

Dean draws in a shaky breath, "I don't even know what to say." Scrubbing a hand over his face he needs more time to get his thoughts and emotions in order. He holds his breath for what feels like an eternity, then looks up at Sam, and exhales, "It was stupid, really, I just needed out for a while..."

As much as Sam wasn't likely to accept that as the official reason Dean walked out on Tuesday night it was the legitimate truth. He hadn't thought about it, hadn't considered what the consequences would be, he just knew he had to get out—just for awhile. Sam had been hovering, tip toeing around, pretending—and as much as Dean wanted to go on pretending with him, Sam's eyes never lied. The truth was always right there, written clear as day on Sam's face—he knew every damn detail.

For two days Dean fought down the urge to scream, the urge to take everything that had happened— was happening—out on his brother. Then it happened, Sam finally pushed the balances, stacked the cards with too many questions and forced Dean to make the decision to get the hell out while he still had a shred of dignity. He'd waited until Sam had gone out to grab some coffee before grabbing the keys to the Impala—probably the dumbest thing he'd done in quite some time – and taking off.

"I thought I'd just drive, clear my head, and try to forget what had happened..." Dean sighs and shakes his head trying to push back the ever invasive memories. The memories are relentless though, absolutely capable of sucking him back into the nightmare without warning and he loses the fight to keep his emotions steady. He's terrified, ashamed, angry. "I'm sorry Sam." His voice falters as he stares down at the floor—his entire body is shaking. God, he's sorry for everything.

From her spot in the corner of the room Jo watches the interaction between the brothers. Part of her wants to leave the room— get out before the real storm hits— but curiosity and just plain confusion over the events of the last 24 hours have kept her feet firmly planted in place.

She watches Dean who is visible shaken, walk to the farthest side of the room, and take a seat on the foot of the bed. Sam follows closely behind, still reeling with anger, his features softening as he watches the way Dean folds in on himself. The intensity of emotion between the two of them is unnerving and yet intimately revealing at the same time. It is pretty damn clear that something has gone completely wrong, because she has never seen Dean Winchester so broken down; she has never him cry, at least not before this weekend.

As she's watching the entire scene unfold before her she catches it, its quick and fleeting, it's the look on Dean's face. His eyes catch hers for a brief second, communicating with her, pleading with her to leave. Despite the fact that she wants to know—wants to help, she nods quietly stepping toward the door, understanding without hesitation that there are something's in the Winchesters lives are best left to just them.

"I…" Dean stammers as he looks up at Sam his eyes, glistening with tears, "I just got in the Impala and drove, I don't know for how long. I just drove. Next thing I know I'm stopped at a gas station north of Kansas City. I, uh… I was starving… I needed gas. At that point I had every intention of turning around." Dean clears his throat. Every part his being is begging him not to continue with the story, his body physically hurts, his head is pounding. "I—I was finishing up with the gas when I heard this voice… it just… I… I just froze."

Despite his best efforts to keep himself in check, the memory washes over him like a tidal wave smashing into the land during a tsunami- Dean's heart is racing as the voice reverberates in his mind, saliva building up in the back of his throat again. He wraps his arms around his head. Rocking himself back and forth, he forces himself to breath—slow and deep and steady. "I want to forget this shit Sam."

It's that simple request, one that Sam knows he can't grant, that instantly ends the anger and frustration he's felt toward Dean over the past few days. This was Dean, completely and absolutely stripped down. Hollowed out and aching.

As much as he might want to, Sam says nothing as he watches Dean rocking back and forth, letting Dean break down without any judgment or hesitation. Instead he carefully lowers himself to the edge of the bed, sitting next to Dean as an act of support. A silent statement conveying the words, 'I'm here for you.' As Dean's body continues to jerk with each unsuccessful attempt to keep his emotions at bay, Sam begins to feel physically sick, hurting from the inside out for his brother.

"Dean…" Sam's voice is so soft it's barely audible as Dean repeats himself again.

"I just want to forget, Sam." But this time Dean continues, and Sam steadies himself to listen.

Dean won't tell Sam everything that happened in the moments that follow Kansas reappearing next to him, but it still plays out in his mind like a recording on an endless loop, playing over and over without fail.

He could have kicked himself for stopping at the darkest truck stop in the city—he had more common sense than that, or at least he had at one point.

Run down and shady as it was, he hadn't cared that night, just wanted to get in and out without being noticed, without anyone taking one look at him and wondering what had happened. So when saw the dingy little stop he pulled in, bought a bottle of water, a bag of chips and set his sights on filling up the gas tank as quickly as he could.

"Hey bitch." The voice came from behind him, slow and quiet, and deafening all at the same time. "You miss me?" There was one hand around his throat, one hand sliding down his jeans, Kansas' hot breath on his face as Dean fell back into the side of the Impala. A cruel laugh taunted the sudden pounding in his chest. A familiar feeling of burning consumed Dean as Kansas' hands continued to work their way along his body. "How about a quick fuck?"

As Kansas stared down at him, Deans head began to swim, his body ached, 'Don't let this happen again' he begged silently, 'not again', but he didn't respond.

"Is that a no?" Kansas laughed and leaned in closer whispering in Dean ear, "You were such a good piece of ass—so fucking tight." Dean could feel his knees start to buckle. The words were meant to screw with his mind, he knew that, but it certainly didn't stop it from happening and Kansas could read him like a book. "Remember how you screamed for me?" Kansas let the words seep into Dean's head, rip him apart before he continued, "You begged me… do you remember?" The lack of response seemed to satisfy Kansas for the moment, until the next question was posed, "Did you talk to the cops princess?" This time Dean's refusal to answer set Kansas off as he pulled Dean forward and slammed him back into the Impala, "Did you talk princess?"

Dean's eyes snapped up, locked on Kansas', "No." Dean's voice was strained on the verge of cracking. In truth he had talked to them at the hospital, giving them enough information to satisfy them and keep them at bay. The last thing he needed was cops trying to hunt him down for some sort of legal proceeding. There wasn't a chance in hell he was going to testify in court when he couldn't face his own brother knowing the truth. "No."

"Good." Kansas smiled, removed his hands and stepped backward causing Dean to fall to his knees, panicked waves of emotion rolled over him as he sucked in air. "Then keep it that way Dean." As Kansas turned to walk away he looked back at Dean one last time, a twisted expression on his face, "I'll see you around."