A/N: Hey everybody, I'm hoping you all had a good week! This chapter might be a little sloppy unfortunately. I'm getting back into the thick of practicum stuff, so my updates might be a little less than frequent. Hopefully I'll still get some chapters out there but I cannot guarantee anything for the next four weeks. I'm hoping you guys will stick with me through it anyway.

Thanks to Colby's girl, shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod, bagelcat1 and hectatess (x2) for the reviews. They were really wonderful.

This chapter is tagged to 10x19, The Werther Project. Hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable belongs to me.


Compulsion

Sam had spent more than a fair share of his life running. Running to compete, running for fun, running for exercise. Running from, running to. Running away.

From hunting.

From John.

From the Winchester name.

From Dean.

And yet, it was the Winchester name, the Winchester blood, Dean, who saved him.

Dean who broke through Sinclair's curse to save him and got the codex.

Dean who had saved him over and over and over again, and what had Sam done? Let Dean save himself from Purgatory. Let Castiel save Dean from Hell. Yeah, maybe Sam had managed to actually save Dean from being a demon, but it had taken Crowley to get Dean back to him and Cas to save him from a hammer to the head.

Now, when Sam was actually taking initiative and doing whatever it takes to save Dean, it spectacularly backfired and nearly left them both dead.

"Man, you always were a depressing drunk…"

Sam stirred from his position on the bed when Dean announced his entrance into the room. "'M not drunk," Sam slurred.

"Oh, very convincing," Dean sassed, setting down his bag of groceries on the table and heading over to where Sam was sprawled across the double bed.

Sam had been pretty insistent that they keep driving after they left St. Louis, Missouri, and, any other day, Dean would have agreed. An 8-hour drive was nothing to the Winchesters. Sure, Dean might get a little tired a little quicker than he used to, and Sam would start complaining of leg cramps sooner rather than later, but they could still get it done in one go. Now that they had a home to go home to, Sam and Dean would much rather push through an uncomfortably long car drive than crash at yet another sketchy motel along the highway.

This time, however, Dean had insisted on crashing at the first decent looking motel that they could find. Considering this was the second time Sam had almost been bled dry in about a year, Dean wasn't taking any chances. The last time this had happened, Dean had been able to take care of Jody, Alex, and Sam all at once even though he had a concussion. This time, Dean had lost some blood too. Not much, barely anything in comparison to Sam, but enough to make him dizzy again, just like he had been last time.

However, just like last time, he had pulled himself together in order to take care of Sam. He had forced Sam into one of the beds, threatened to handcuff him to the headboard if he even thought about moving, and then he had made sure to empty one of the saline bags into Sam before he even thought about leaving. When the first bag was dry and Sam was working on the second one, only then had Dean felt safe enough to go out to grab Gatorade, orange juice, a case of water bottles, and some takeout, which meant a thick, juicy steak and a side salad for Sam, and a fancy Angus burger with all the fixings for Dean himself.

Dean placed all of Sam's food on a tray and carried it over to him. "Do you need me to cut it up for you?"

"Shaddup," Sam grumbled, reaching out for the knife and fork that were balanced precariously on the side of the plate. Keeping one eye on Dean, Sam very carefully sliced a thin strip off the steak and brought it up to his mouth, careful not to let his hands waver. One little jiggle, and Dean would be in full mother-hen mode and would possibly try to feed him airplane style.

Seemingly satisfied, Dean plopped himself down on his bed and dug into his burger.

"So," Dean mumbled around a mouthful of beef and bun. "Are we gonna talk about it?"

"What happened to no chick flicks?" Sam sighed heavily.

"The no chick flick rule goes out the door the second you're down a pint. You know that."

"Dean…" Sam groaned.

"Why the hell did you nearly kill yourself over that damn box?" Sam opened his mouth to argue but Dean cut him off. "And don't tell me it's because we're Legacies or whatever. If that was the reason, you would've told me. What the hell could have been so important that you were willing to bleed yourself dry?"

"You, you idiot!" Sam wanted to yell. "It would all be worth it to get that thing off your arm!" But he couldn't. If he told Dean that, he would shut him down, and Sam wasn't about to risk that. Not when he got the codex. Not when he finally had a solid lead on how to save Dean. Dean may have given up hope, but Sam wasn't about to follow his lead. Not this time. Not when his sanity hung in the balance. Not when Dean could turn into a demon again. Not when the fate of his world was at stake.

He hadn't been lying to Charlie when he told her that he wouldn't do it without his brother. What he hadn't told her is that he didn't want to do anything without his brother at this point. Maybe it was unhealthy, maybe it was codependent, maybe it wasn't normal, but he didn't care. He would rather bleed out on some dingy basement floor in Missouri than have to watch his brother become a demon again. Rather die than have to live without his brother for the umpteenth time. Rather save his brother than risk falling down that rabbit hole again without him.

"I just didn't want the codex to fall into the wrong hands," Sam rasped, reaching out to grab the bottle of Gatorade Dean was handing him. Green, not red. Never red, not since Dean had gone to Hell and Sam had fallen down that rabbit hole.

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Okay…fine. Where is the stupid thing then?"

"It's in my bag."

"Okay, you want me to get rid of it?"

Sam shook his head eagerly, keeping his eyes on his bag. "Nah, I'll do it when we get home. Don't want to set a suspicious fire here, you know?"

"You sure?" Dean stared at him suspiciously. "I'm pretty good at avoiding the suspicious stuff, remember? I can get it done quick."

Again, Sam shook his head. "I wanna take a look at it first. Just in case there's something…important in there."

Dean fixed him with a hard stare before sighing again. "Alright, just…promise me you're gonna get rid of it?"

Sam looked up at him with what he knew to be his famous puppy dog eyes. "Yeah, Dean. Promise."

Sam might have felt a pang in his chest when he handcuffed Rowena so that she could use the book. Not for handcuffing the witch, he honestly didn't care. Not for promising to kill Crowley, that he would have done for free. No, he felt a pang for lying to Dean.

He got it now, he honestly did. Every time Dean had lied to him to save his life, he understood. It wasn't something Dean did on a whim. It wasn't a choice. It was a compulsion. It was a need. It was something embedded in their DNA. Protect each other at all costs. Finally, after everything, Sam understood that. And now, he was done running.


A/N: And another one bites the dust! I hope you all enjoyed that chapter. I know it wasn't one of my best but I still kinda like it. Please drop me a line to let me know what you thought! I hope to see you all next week but if I don't, I will see you soon! Much love!