Yall I hate this semester.

That's it that's the tweet.

But no seriously I've been so busy arguing with my teachers that I literally have no time to write.

That being said, I completely rewrote this chapter because I didn't like where I was going with it.

Also two things:

1) You ever get that feeling where you're like "I'm going to read my own story because I can"? Well I did and I found a bunch of continuity errors I get to go back and correct. Guess that's what I get for taking a whole year to update and continue writing.

2) I miss talking to you guys! My friend told me I should make a Tumblr or something for my stories but I told her I'm not cool enough for that. So please leave a review letting me know what yall think of the story so far! I live for the little serotonin boosts I get lol. Also if you have any storyline ideas, I'm down to hear them as I've having a bit of a block.

Okay, on with the show!

As if it was rehearsed, the boys went inside the house as usual and carried their bags upstairs to their room. Dean immediately started unpacking while Sam flopped on his stomach on his bed.

"Dude take your jacket off," Dean said. "You're gonna get your bed all wet. And you're not sleeping in mine."

Sam rolled over and sat up. He unzipped his jacket and tossed it into the closet, making a scrunched face when it failed to go into the laundry basket.

He shrugged it off and fell back on his bed. Dean picked the jacket up as he put his own clothes in the basket.

"You coming back down?" Dean asked, throwing his now empty duffel bag on the top shelf of the closet.

Sam shook his head. He reached over to his bag and pulled his book out and flipped to a random page.

"You've been reading that the whole trip back and you still haven't finished it?"

Sam nodded.

"You're slacking Sammy," Dean said, trying to make it come off as a joke.

Sam ignored him.

"Make sure you put all your crap away before Bobby comes up."

Sam continued ignoring him.

Dean left the room, closed the door behind him, and went downstairs. He could hear the hushed voices coming from the kitchen area.

"I'm telling ya Singer. Kid hasn't talked in days."

"At all? That don't sound like him."

Dean stopped at the bottom step and listened in. John was telling Bobby all about the hunt, probably while they were both sitting at the table drinking; something they could agree on when they were getting along.

"How's Dean taking it?"

"Not well. I told him to just leave Sam the hell alone but I know he's pushing him."

Silence. Dean could just picture the both of them each taking a sip from their drinks.

"Maybe I should stay for a little," John offered after a while.

"Hell no."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothin is gonna happen while you're here that won't happen while you're not."

"Wanna try that again in English?"

"Sam may talk, he may not. Doesn't matter if you're here. Only he knows how this is going to play out."

More silence. Another sip.

"He better talk soon. I thought this would all be over after the first day but at this point… it's fucking ridiculous."

"He'll talk John. We just gotta give him time."

Dean rolled over in bed and looked at the clock. 2:32 AM.

He moaned and shoved the pillow on top of his face. Why did he have to be wide awake so freakishly early?

After giving up trying to fall asleep, he got out of bed. Quietly walking downstairs so he didn't wake his passed-out dad on the couch, he poured himself a glass of water and snuck back upstairs. He came back in the room to find Sam moving in his sleep.

"Stop," Sam mumbled.

And Dean did. He stayed in the doorway holding his glass of water.

"Sam? You awake?" he asked, slowly making his way towards Sam's bed.

Sam didn't answer.

"Oh so you only talk in your sleep now? I see how it is." Dean scoffed and crossed back over to his side of the room.

"Stop it Dean," Sam continued.

"Shut up Sam," Dean mumbled back, still struggling to fall back asleep.

"Dean."

"Sam."

"DEAN! STOP!"

Dean jumped out of bed, hit the light switch, and then ran over to Sam.

"Alright kid, time for you to wake up." Dean said, climbing on top of him and gently shaking him.

Sam finally stopped tossing. Dean watched for a minute for Sam to slowly blink open his eyes.

"Hm?" Sam asked when he started to come to.

"Bad dream?"

Sam gave him a confused look.

"Dude, you were screaming out my name in your sleep. Wanna tell me what's up with that?"

Sam pushed Dean off him and sat up in bed. It was then both boys realized Sam had also been crying in his sleep. Sam could feel his face turning red from the embarrassment. And Dean could see it. Sam turned away to quickly wipe his face with his pajama sleeve.

"You wanna tell me what you were dreaming about?" Dean tried asking again.

Sam didn't respond.

"Holy shit Sammy. Is this a thing?"

Sam tried to quickly get out his bed and go turn the light back off. A clear sign he didn't want to have this conversation.

"Uh uh!" Dean said, pushing Sam back down on the bed. "How long has this been going on?"

Sam curled back into a ball and pulled the blankets up over his head so he was completely hidden. If Dean wouldn't take the first hint, maybe he would take this one.

"You're going to tell me eventually Sammy so you might as well do it now."

Sam didn't move or say anything. Dean walked back over and sat on the edge of his bed.

"It was about Brooke wasn't it?"

Still nothing.

"Listen Sammy-"

Dean's mind drew a blank. What could he possibly say that was going to make this whole situation any better? Sam hasn't talked to him since the night Brooke died and that was almost an entire week ago.

Dean was feeling just as helpless now staring at the blanket blob on the bed as he was standing outside the bathroom door that first night.

"Sammy if I could take it all back, you know I would, right?"

Still nothing from Sam.

"I have no idea what's running through your head right now. I know you said you were mad at me but you're not acting like you're mad at me and... I wouldn't blame you if you were still really upset and hurting and trying to figure out how to react but... this ain't it Sam! Okay? You can't just-"

Dean stopped talking when he heard a whimper from under the blanket.

Sam laid under the blanket listening to everything Dean was saying.

"It was about Brooke wasn't it?"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut to keep from crying again. It was about Brooke. At first it was just the same night over and over replaying. Now it was like all his memories about Brooke were mashing together. Tonight happened to be Dean shooting Brooke for leaving Sam in the first place, which Sam now knew was because her sister Bethany was a wizard and fucked up again and they had no choice but to leave town.

God, how fucking stupid was he?

"Sammy if I could take it all back, you know I would, right?"

Sam couldn't stop himself. He could feel the hot tears on his face and bit his lip to keep himself from making any noise.

It didn't work.

"This aint it Sam! Okay? You can't just-"

Sam inhaled sharply and a choked sob snuck out.

He could hear Dean walk back over to his bed and sit on the edge.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, pulling some of the blanket away.

Sam shot up and threw his arms around Dean's neck and started sobbing. Dean was caught off guard.

"It's all my fault!"

"No it's not! Why would you say that?"

"I should have known! Something! Anything! Why didn't I know?"

"Because there wasn't anything to know."

Sam clung on tighter. Dean had never felt more relieved to hear Sam's voice again. He wrapped his arms back around Sam and rocked him back and forth to calm him down.

"No one knew Sammy. Okay? The whole thing was an accident. You were a good friend to that girl."

"I really liked her," Sam admitted quietly in-between cries.

"I know Sammy."

"Why can't our lives be normal?"

"We're not normal."

RosewoodGirl13