FINALLY. I know, I know, I'm updating a week late, and even then I'm technically updating on Monday, I'm SORRY! Everything has been so up in the air around here and I haven't had time to use the computer much. My mother even gave me The Sims 3 for Christmas because she actually bought me The Sims Supernatural expansion pack . . . nothing to do with the actual television series pf course but that didn't stop me from making little Sam and Dean Sims (yeah so what if that's lame, it was fun and I was bored) and um . . . well, they got married. Shut up, it was cute, I haven't been able to play it for a while though because it's been so busy here.

I did, however, manage to publish another short fic (shameless self promotion) which is actually a Weechester fic which I never thought I'd write. I'm not the best at descriptive writing but I do like how it turned out. Sort of has some sad content in Dean's ideas about things, it might be a little subtle for some but if you have a chance check it and tell me what you think, it's on my profile page as always.

Loved all your reviews thank you SO SO SO much!

I do not own nor am I affiliated with Supernatural, WB, CW, Kripke Enterprises, actors, or other affiliates there of. No profit is being made from this.

This is fine, I've done it hundreds . . . thousands . . . countless times and I can do this. It's no problem . . . I just have to get moving . . . yep . . . just put one foot in front of the other . . . any . . . minute . . . now . . .

Sam stood stalk still, pressed against the passenger door of the Impala. They had stopped for gas and Sam had volunteered to go inside the little convenience store to pay and grab some road snacks . . . and he was going to . . . soon . . . he just needed to remember how to work his legs first.

"Sammy," Dean's voice interrupted his inner pep talk, "you don't -"

"Yes," Sam interrupted firmly, "I do. I'm fine, I'm just . . . resting a minute."

Dean leaned against the car next to him, "Uh huh. Well, I'll be done gassin' her up in a minute, so whenever you're ready, go right ahead."

"I will," Sam said nodding but still made no attempt to move.

After a couple of minutes slowly ticked by, Dean cleared his throat, "Sometime today would be good, Sammich."

Sam scowled, Dean had never used that particular nickname often and it grated on his nerves every time he did. Inside, he was a little bit grateful. Dean was trying to make this like any other day on the road for him and not a significant step in the road to recovery for Sam. He knew it was probably hard for Dean too, just letting him go in the store, alone. It was part of that whole big brother has to watch out for baby brother because God knows that he can't do it for himself.

That's not really fair to Dean though, he's been beating himself up ever since he found Sam unconscious in the cabin's kitchen. Then for leaving again while Sam was sleeping, causing Sam to go look for him that in turn caused Dean to flip out on him.

They had stayed another week at the cabin. Making sure they used up all the perishable groceries and as much as the firewood they could. It had been a very warm week inside the cabin. Though once the woodpile got significantly low, Dean came in complaining about rats. When Sam went out to get more wood all he found were some very indignant little mice trying to scurry deeper into the pile. Sam felt a little sorry for them, honestly, they were just trying to find shelter in the winter after all, it couldn't be easy being so small. Especially when the hooting at night gave every indication that there were plenty of predators out there waiting to swoop down on you.

Sam shivered involuntarily at the similarities he found between him and the rodents. He wasn't exactly tiny like a mouse but he felt a lot like prey at the moment.

"Y'know Sam, it's probably warmer inside." Dean said with a nudge.

Sam wasn't sure if he misread the shiver or he was just trying to get Sam moving. At any rate, Sam nodded and started forward. How was this so difficult when the day after Sam's rape, he was able to force himself into the two gas stations they stopped at? Shock? Denial? A little of both? Or maybe it was just the overwhelming feeling that he had to hide what happened from Dean that overrode the need to hide from the world.

Why was this so hard to do now? That was easier to answer, Sam had gotten way too comfortable being isolated in the mountains. Out in the open, the feeling of being too exposed was back and it was more difficult than ever.

The electronic chime sounded as Sam walked into the warm interior of the store. There were two other men in the store and the chunky clerk at the counter looked up from her confession magazine. Her expression of annoyance melted into one of intense interest.

Not now, please, Sam thought.

He'd never been comfortable with an inordinate amount of attention especially from the opposite sex. It was worse when he found some one particularly attractive. Sam had never quite gotten over the feeling of being a skinny, gangly, clumsy, oversized teen, when his feet and legs and arms decided to grow at an alarming rate, leaving him to trip all over himself endlessly, which seemed to happen particularly often in front of cute girls. He would never forget having just turning sixteen and tripping into Cynthia Walters in the hall of the latest school he was in. He'd knocked her over and landed face first in her cleavage. Coincidentally enough, Cynthia happened to be one of the most well endowed girls in school. Everyone, including Cynthia, thought Sam had done it on purpose. Afterwards he'd been subjected to guys leering and doing very unfunny impressions of his boob face plant, girls glaring at him like he was a pervert, and a very humiliating ordeal that involved him, his father, the school counselor and the principle. Sam had never been more grateful for his frequent school changes.

Oh and the fun Dean had with that particular incident in his life.

This was good, if Sam just kept thinking about other things, things from a lifetime ago it wasn't so bad. He didn't have to think about that guy in front of the coolers who just looked at him, or maybe he was staring at him, or checking him out, or possibly -

Stop it, Sam told himself firmly. He's not looking at you, he just glanced at you that's all. Stop being a friggin' wuss already.

That last part sounded a lot like Dean in his head and Sam had to smile a little. Quickly he got down to business and started to load up on Bing Bongs and Power Bars. Right, Power Bars because that's what he always got . . . not that he had much of an appetite for them these days. He was getting them mostly out of habit.

After grabbing two bottles of water he headed up to the counter, the other guy in the store brushed past him, their arms bumping each other.

"Excuse me," the man mumbled, walking further down the aisle.

Sam froze, his breath catching in his throat and he bit back a whimper.

Stop it, he told himself firmly. You're fine, he barely touched you, stop acting like a freak and go up to counter already.

Sam couldn't seem to make his limbs obey his commands. He eyes, squeezed shut and he stood there trying to keep his breathing steady. He wasn't about to have a panic attack but he still really, really hated being touched by anyone who wasn't Dean. Even something as innocent as what had just happened made him feel sick and like he wanted to run but couldn't move. Sam tried to think back to being at the department store with Dean all those weeks ago. There were people there and sometimes, they got a little too close for his comfort. So, how did he deal with it then?

That was easy, Dean was with him. He knew as long as Dean was there, no one could hurt him.

Dean's just outside, Sam thought, knowing him, he's watching you right now, so buck the fuck up and act like a man and pay for this stuff and go.

Another few seconds of not moving, Sam told himself, The faster you pay, the faster you can get out of here and back to the car.

Finally, Sam made himself move up to the counter and he gratefully set down his purchases. The clerk smiled widely at him and Sam felt his stomach clench silently pleading with her to not start a conversation with him.

Apparently, she wasn't listening, "Hi there, how are you doin' today sir?"

"Fine," Sam answered softly, barely moving his lips.

She stared ringing up his items and bagging them, "Never seen you around here before, you new in town?"

"Passing through," he mumbled, shifting his weight from side to side and glancing out the windows, he hoped he looked like he was in a hurry, "pump three, please."

"Oh that's too bad," the clerk went on, sounding excessively sad, "this town could use some fresh meat, if you know what I mean."

Sam cringed, he certainly did know what she meant but after what he'd been through, he didn't like being referred to as "meat". Without waiting for her to tell him the total he took out some bills and placed them on the counter. She smiled sweetly, placed the bag on the counter, and picked up the money, putting in the register and then counting out his change. Sam snagged the bag and held his hand out, hoping that there wouldn't be much physical contact. The clerk wasn't repulsive or anything, he just couldn't stand the thought of being touched by some one who so obviously wanted more that just a handing off of cash.

She was holding his change but made no move to give it to him yet, "Y'know, there's a sweet little motel just a couple of miles down the road, maybe you could stop off for bit, I could keep you company if you'd like. It can get awful lonely on the road."

Sam swallowed heavily, he felt like he was going to throw up in a minute. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea. If he puked all over the counter, certainly the clerk wouldn't find him nearly so desirable.

"I - I - I really, need to get back on the road," Sam forced out. "Thank you, anyway."

She looked like she was going to say something else but the door to the store opened and Dean strode in.

"Geez Sammy, y'gonna spend all day in here or what?" Dean sauntered up to the counter and practically snatched the change from the startled clerk, then gave her a wink. "Thanks sweetheart."

Dean turned to Sam with an expectant look, "Well, c'mon then moose, let's get a move on."

Sam following him mutely to the Impala, not sparing a backwards glance. Sliding into the passenger seat, he handed the bag to Dean.

"Thank you," Sam muttered.

Dean started snickering, "Dude, she looked like she was gonna eat you alive."

Sam grimaced, wrapping his arms around himself tightly, "I have never been so uncomfortable in my life."

"I dunno," Dean shrugged, setting the bag down after retrieving one of the chocolate snack cakes, "the itching powder in the underwear made you pretty uncomfortable."

Sam gave his brother a half-hearted glare, "That wasn't funny, Dean."

"I thought it was funny," Dean chortled, starting up the engine and pulling back out on the road.

"Seriously though," Dean said after a few minutes, "you okay? You looked pretty shook up when that guy bumped into you."

So Dean had been watching him and knowing Dean, it was probably for the entire time. It wasn't much of a revelation for Sam, he knew how deep Dean's overprotective streak ran. Sometimes, being as fiercely independent as Sam was, it annoyed him to no end, especially since Sam was an adult. Those times didn't really happen anymore, Sam had an intense need to feel safe and Dean always provided that.

"I'm fine," Sam sighed and shifted his legs so he could slide down in his seat, "it . . . I dunno, it kinda weirded me out for a minute but . . . yeah, I'm okay."

Dean nodded without further comment. Sam turned his head to stare out the window.

He wanted to talk. Dean and him hadn't really talked since that disastrous day a week ago. They hadn't even talked about where they would go, they were pretty much traveling blind. Now that Dean basically knew everything . . . well, certainly not everything. He didn't know the horrid details of what happened and Sam didn't feel compelled to tell him. Still, Dean knew everything that Sam had tried to conceal from him and now that he did, Sam wanted to talk about it, to explain a few things to his brother. The only problem was that he found himself pushing Dean out of his comfort zone pretty often. Sam wanted to talk but it could wait, they needed to get back to something that resembled normal . . . normal for them anyway.

*S*S*S*

"Okay," Dean leaned into the car from the open driver's side, "no music, should be good."

"'Kay," Sam kept his gaze straight ahead.

Sam had insisted on stopping somewhere for dinner. Dean didn't know if it was a good idea, he thought Sam should slow down a little when it came to easing back into society. Naturally, Sam just wanted to jump into to things head first. Dean had grudgingly agreed to stop at a diner as long as he went in to check it out, make sure that there wasn't going to be another incident like at the restaurant.

"You're sure you're okay with this?" Dean asked as they stared at the road side diner.

"Uh-huh . . ." Sam responded, his hands white knuckling the seat beneath him.

"Sam?"

"I'm fine," Sam said quickly. "Um . . . but . . . well . . ."

"Keep using that big college vocabulary, Sam." Dean smirked, "It's impressive, seriously."

Sam managed something like a scowl before swallowing hard and saying, "They have a jukebox."

Dean's eyebrows shot up, "Oookay . . ."

With a sigh, Dean slammed the car door and ambled back into the diner. He took a long look at the jukebox before trotting back out to the car. This time, he opened the passenger door.

"No Patsy Cline," Dean assured him.

Sam nodded, "Right . . . let's go."

Before he could change his mind, Sam got out of the car and led the way into the diner. This was a little easier, honestly. He could count on Dean's presence to keep him calmer than he would otherwise feel. He felt the inexplicable urge to reach out and grasp his brother's arm, just to make sure that Dean was there and that he wouldn't leave his side. Though logically, he knew, Dean never would, Dean would always stick by him, no matter what, Dean would never leave him to deal with things alone when Sam needed him.

Great, now Sam wanted to turn and throw his arms around his older brother and give him a bone crushing hug. Maybe even cry a little in gratification that he had such an amazing brother.

Dean was right . . . Sam was nothing but a great big girl.

Once inside the door, Dean took the lead and went straight back to the booth farthest away and Sam slid into the seat facing the door. Dean usually liked that position, liked to keep his back to the corner so he could keep an eye on everything. This was the second time he'd let Sam have that seat and Sam really needed that. He needed to see what was going on around him and he really, really hated anyone behind him.

It was pretty slow in the diner and it wasn't long before a middle-aged waitress was at their table, looking bored and asking for their orders. Dean got his usual burger and fries and Sam got a grilled chicken salad.

"Dude, stop." Dean said a few minutes after the waitress walked away with their orders.

"What? Stop what?" Sam looked across at him with anxious eyes.

"You're fidgeting."

"Well, I'm sorry, Dean." Sam said in a furious whisper, "I'm a little nervous."

"No kidding," Dean said, reaching across the table and putting his hand over Sam's, which were currently twisting themselves into painful positions. "Stop."

Sam put his hands in his lap and tried to concentrate on staying still. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. He was okay, everything was fine. Dean was here with him and he was safe.

Then Dean started to talk and Sam let his voice wash over him. He didn't know what Dean was saying but it was soothing to hear him speak. After that time seemed to speed up, their food arrived in no time. Though Dean seemed to really enjoy his burger Sam ate slowly and methodically, not even tasting anything as he concentrated on chewing each bite of food and forced himself to swallow. He'd had an easier time eating lately but he was too agitated right then to enjoy his meal.

As soon as Dean pushed his empty plate away Sam very nearly scrambled out of his seat, his food not anywhere near finished. "Ready to go?"

Looking a little disappointed, Dean sighed, "I guess so." He pulled some bills out of his wallet and tossed them on the table before trailing after Sam.

Once they were driving again, Sam said, "Sorry."

Dean glanced over at him, "What are you sorry for now, Sammy?"

"Dude, I don't even know anymore," Sam slumped down in his seat. "I just feel so messed up all the time. I get so nervous and tense. It's so . . . frustrating."

Dean shook his head, "Don't worry about it, man. You'll get used to being around people again."

"Yeah?" Sam sighed, "How long is that gonna take? How long will it be until I can function like a human being again? Y'know, right after it happened, I was kind of okay, I mean, I could basically function on some sort of level -"

"You were in shock, Sam." Dean interrupted, "Your brain was on autopilot, you weren't really functioning at all, it was only a matter of time before -"

"Before what?" Sam snapped, "Before I had a nervous breakdown or my first panic attack?" He sighed again before adding, "This is just one more reason why I think we should -"

"No." Dean said flatly.

Sam looked over at him sharply, "You don't even know what I'm gonna say."

Dean pretended to look thoughtful, "Hm, let me guess, something about us splitting up? Not gonna happen. We're sticking together and that's that, end of story."

Sam looked out the window forlornly, "That might be a long time, man." He said softly.

"I'm here for as long as it takes," Dean returned confidently.

A ghost of a smile touched Sam's lips, "I know," the smile faded quickly, "I just hate feeling so useless."

"So make yourself useful," Dean smirked. "Find us a motel for the night."

*S*S*S*

Dean stepped out of the motel bathroom followed by a cloud of steam.

Sam, sitting cross-legged on the bed farthest from the door, glanced up from the laptop, "Did you use all the hot water in the place, Dean?"

"What are you complaining about," Dean dropped the wet towel on Sam's head and ignored the indignant squawk that followed, "not like you were gonna take a shower tonight anyway."

Sam shrugged and Dean flopped down on his bed, turned the television on with the remote and began to channel surf.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam began after a few minutes, "I've been thinkin' . . ."

"Again with the thinking," Dean said, eyed glued to the flickering images. "Careful, Sammy, y'don't wanna overheat that big deal brain of yours."

Sam ignored the jibe and said, "We need to start hunting again."

"You what?" Dean sat up and looked at him incredulously.

"I think we should find a job," Sam said sounding perfectly reasonable and calm.

Dean just stared at him until Sam huffed out an exasperated, "What?"

"What?" Dean threw up his hands, "What? Seriously? Dude, we just got back on the road and, I'm really sorry Sam but it's been hard enough for you to cope with being in public and now you wanna just dive back into hunting? This is after you told me that you're afraid of the dark and you didn't know if you could hunt anymore. Are you high?"

Sam kept his eyes fixed to his laptop, he felt his face heat with shame. He didn't need to be reminded of his new limitations of a hunter, he lived with the knowledge every day.

Dean took a deep breath and said in a softer tone, "I know that you wanna try to get back to the way things were before but you don't need to push it. You need to slow down -"

"I don't wanna slow down!" Sam snapped. "Look, the way I see it is, the only way I'm gonna get any better is if we start doing everything we were doing before all this happened."

"Sam -" Dean started before being immediately cut off again.

"I'm not saying that I'm ready to go take on a werewolf or a pack of ghouls or anything," Sam went on, sounding calmer. "We can start off with something small, something simple. I need to do this."

When his brother looked like he was going to argue again Sam added, "I'll do it with or without you, Dean."

Sam watched as Dean's facial expressions showed the war going on inside his head. Anger, frustration, worry, indignation, exasperation, more frustration because Dean knew that if Sam really wanted to do something, he'd do it. It wasn't like Sam needed Dean's approval.

Finally, looking sullen, Dean muttered, "Fine . . . but I get final say in what we do."

Sam pretended to think it over but then nodded when he saw the muscles in Dean's jaw flex, "I guess that's fair."

Dean lay back again, grumbling to himself and Sam suppressed a chuckle and shut down his laptop.

"I'm gonna get some sleep," he said climbing under the covers and turning off the lamp next to his bed. "G'night, Dean."

Dean grunted in response and Sam smiled and curled up on his side. As he let his eyes close he found himself wondering how well he was going to sleep now that Dean was across the room from him instead of in the same bed.