As Sam spoke the cut on his neck that Dean had inflicted began to ooze blood and drip down his neck. Dean had instantly smelled the demon in the blood. The panic had set in and Dean had begun to shake. Violently shake. He was paralyzed. He couldn't' make himself move. This demon wearing his brother's face was going to torture him just as the others had. This time, there would be no hand growing back, if the demon made him eat his arm to his elbow there would be no stopping it, and this time he would choke on his own mangled flesh and die. There would be no more resurrections for Dean Winchester if that happened.

Sam was actually able to hear his brother's body tremble. He turned to Dean and watched his body shake hard against the floor felt his body shake against the floor like those vibrating beds that Dean had loved so much once. Watching his brother's body shake momentarily slipped him back in time to when he was pinned against the wall and Dean was writhing on the ground trying to get away from the vicious hell hound attack. Sam shook himself. He had to get out of that memory. He could NOT relive that. Not again. Not after he had had his brother back for a year.

Sam touched Dean's shoulder and he cringed.

"Dean?" he asked softly confused by his brother's reaction.

"Get away from me." He said in a small scared voice.

"Dean, it's me Sammy." Sam said using the name he had tried to shed most of his life.

"You're a demon." Dean said his voice quaking. He scrambled to get up and he ran to the nearest corner of the room and huddled down, pulling his arms over his head and face. Shock wasn't an adequate adjective to describe Sam's current state. The accusation of demon sang through his body. Not long ago, Sam had been afraid that the demon blood coursing through his veins qualified him for the demon book club. Sam had decided on his own that he would never join that particular book club. His brother had made him promise before he died and Sam never broke a promise with his brother. Sam felt his bottom lip tremble and he pulled it in between his teeth hoping to stop the quiver that would inevitably lead to tears. Sam stood and went to his brother, Dean huddled in on himself tighter, Dean was trying to disappear, trying to get away from the demon he perceived him to be.

"Dean, it's me." he said again in a small voice.

"I won't let you." Dean said hoarsely. The trembling seemed to be getting worse. Sam couldn't for the life of him figure out what had happened to cause his brother to go into this fit.

"You won't let me do what?" Sam asked as he sat down Indian style in front of his crouching brother.

"You've done this before." Sam closed his eyes frustrated. These half sentences, half truths weren't helping him.

"What have I done before?"

"You aren't Sammy. Last time…you made me fall for it….thought I was safe…..let Sammy close…." Sam's jaw clenched when he realized that Dean wasn't going to give details. He looked at the ceiling and wished that he still had the faith that he had when he had gone on the road with his brother almost four and half years ago. He wished that he believed in God enough to pray to him to help his brother. But truth of the matter is when God had let his brother sell his soul, let his soul be drug down to the fiery pits of hell, he had decided that God didn't need his faith anymore. God would do just fine without his worship. However, Sam just wished for a moment that a higher power would help him to get his big brother to open up. To get him off of this filthy floor and back to himself.

"Dean, I'm not a demon." He said as he pulled both his button down and his t-shirt over his head and grabbed Dean's hand.

"No!" he started to scream like a child who was being drug away from its mother against his will. "No!" Sam struggled to get Dean's hand away from his body, but Sam was stronger than his brother now. Sam had spent time training, time hunting, time moving, where as Dean's once powerful body had been left unexercised. While Dean had gone hunting since he had gotten out of hell he hadn't really made much effort to make sure he was in fine physical shape, his physical mimicked his mental, which was reflective of his soul. All were damaged and were the reason for him pulling so hard against Sam.

"Come on you stubborn ass." Sam mumbled while Dean was screaming 'no'. He finally got Dean's hand, palm spread, over the tattoo over his heart. Dean stopped screaming when his hand came in contact with the flesh. His breath still coming in quick gasps, he slowly pulled his head up from his cocoon of hair and body.

"It's me Dean." Sam said softly. Dean's wild eyes looked up at Sam's. He seemed to be considering something. Sam took that as a good thing, hoped it was a good thing.

"How?"

"What?"

"You smell like a demon." He finally managed after a few false starts.

The comment took Sam aback. Dean could identify demons on sight and apparently he could detect them via scent as well. His grip, which had been vice like against Dean's wrist, slackened and there was no indication that Dean was going to take his hand from the tattoo. Sam swallowed and finally said, "Visions. Yellow eyed demon." Sam struggled. He never wanted Dean to know about the demon blood.

"You knew?" Dean's voice had never come up above a whisper. Sam couldn't look his brother in the eye.

"Yeah. I knew."