I gotta say, this one was kind of tough to get out. I don't even know why because I knew exactly what I wanted to happen but actually sitting down and getting it hammered out was a little difficult. I don't know, maybe it's because the down notes of romance are always the least enjoyable to me. You know, the part where the couple has to hurt each other and act irrational so the girl can decide to fly away and the guy can run through the airport like an idiot to try and catch her. You can't really have those scenes without the break up in the first place, and you need that for drama (how well it's pulled off is entirely on the movie where sometimes it's sweet and moving and other times you know they're just not right for each other and going to divorce within six months). Still, the low points are always my least favorite parts of the story so it's not the easiest to write, even if it is needed for decent plot progression.

So, very sorry for the wait but here is the chapter now. I hope you all enjoy it.

Chapter 18: The First Cut is the Deepest

It wasn't uncommon for the two Winchester brothers to end up in a bad situation and have it feel like they were spinning their wheels in the aftermath. There were times when things got to be too much and they had to take time to let it slow down a little, or alternatively when there wasn't much of anything happening when it felt like it should be and the two needed to go out and look for trouble. Dean felt it was very much the first one, leaving him with a lot to think about and not all that interested in trying to find a case to work. He was no longer in the mindset of trying to quit that he had been when Cas had confirmed to him that he'd broken the first seal, but he didn't exactly feel like going out to fight the good fight against some random monster either.

The two hadn't even left Ohio yet, the older Winchester driving far enough to get a few towns over before pulling into an exit ramp and parking at the first hotel he saw.

"We're stopping already?" Sam asked, looking out at the sign of the place and seeming confused.

"Not like there's a specific place to go, and I'm not looking for one," he explained. "If there's a seal to protect, those douche-bags will tell us, or they can get off their asses and do it themselves."

"Right, makes sense," his brother replied, but the hesitation in his voice was obvious.

"What?" Dean asked, his voice too snappish even to his own ears but he couldn't really help it. He wasn't entirely sure how to talk to his brother right now, things were just so awkward. Even cranking the music up top volume while they'd been driving had done nothing to help. How was it silence between people could still feel oppressive even with Metallica blasting in your ears?

"We were out of commission for three weeks, Dean," he pointed out. "Who knows what could have happened in that time? So many seals have already been broken. Don't you think we should at least ask Cas for an update on what's going on?"

"If they want us, they'll tell us. They seem so good at jerking us around anyway," he said before he went around to the trunk of the car and grabbed their bag, slamming it shut harshly. Sam seemed hesitant but didn't argue it further, which on its own freaked Dean out. He wasn't used to his brother giving in on things so easily, and it gave him a twang of guilt he didn't like. "Look… I'll get in contact with the guy later, ask what's going on. For tonight though, I just want to try and pretend the world isn't riding on my shoulders, okay? This whole it's gotta be me who ends it thing can wait one night, can't it?"

"It doesn't have to be you, Dean," Sam said softly. "I can help you."

The oldest wasn't exactly sure what he meant by that. The two of them killing Lilith together? Sam's freaky mind powers? Showing him emotional support with a beer and jokes? Dean couldn't find it in himself to ask, the moment too high strung and strange for him. Sam was trying, he could tell, was really trying to help his brother out of this weird mindset he felt himself trapped in. It wasn't doing any good though because he just felt too low. Self-loathing was a practice Dean had long since mastered, mostly because the world kept happily giving him material for him to use against himself. That was a monster way too big for even Sam to slay, as much as he'd been trying ever since Dean had fist sold his soul.

Mostly it wouldn't work this time because it was Sam trying to help. The weirdness between them wasn't going to just go away after so little time, and he knew his brother was feeling it too despite trying not to show it. Hell, the kid wouldn't even meet his eyes anymore. He almost seemed subdued, like he was afraid to start a fight between them or even argue that much, or like he was afraid of Dean himself and didn't that just turn a knife right into his gut?

"Hey," he said suddenly, desperate to turn the mood around. "Why don't we just take the night off? We can drink, play some cards, throw darts and just chill a bit? I'm sure there's a bar somewhere around here that we can blow off some steam at. You can even pull out your computer and look for another case while I fleece the locals. We'll be at on the road by morning and go in any direction you want."

"Really? You want to?" Sam asked.

Dean wasn't sure why he wouldn't want to, but that didn't seem to be the point of Sam's question. Even after everything that had happened between them, he could still read his brother and figure out what he was thinking without too much effort.

You want to spend time with me?

He supposed he had been trying too hard to keep a line of separation between them. In his own feelings of what he'd done wrong, what he had allowed to happen, he'd inadvertently allowed Sam to fall to the wayside. It was easy when you were trying to give someone space you ended up overdoing it and leaving them feeling alone. That wasn't usually the case with Sam though, the guy so fiercely independent that he could come off as an ass sometimes, but even he could feel alone at times. What was the saying again, not man was an island?

This had to be affecting him too, leaving him to feel just as weird and awkward inside. While it wouldn't be morally responsible of Dean just to blow off what he'd done to Sam, it probably wasn't any better to act so standoffish and keep his brother at arm's length. Maybe it would be better to try start taking the steps back to normal and hope for the best. Sam relied on Dean, as much as he sometimes denied it, and if this had happened with anyone else the eldest brother would have been the first one to offer a friendly ear or better yet deck the guy who'd taken advantage of Sam.

How was he supposed to do that when he'd been the guy to take advantage though? How was he supposed to slide back into the role of protective older brother? Maybe goofing off in a bar wasn't the answer, but it seemed like a good enough of an idea to Sam so it had to be worth a try.

He was oddly reminded of Amsterdam, a place he'd never even been to and at most had seem some pictures of the place on travel pamphlets. Year ago he'd suggested running to that place, right after he'd told Sam the truth about their dad's last words and right before finding out Ava had gone missing. It's not like it had been some big dream to go there, but it was fun and far away, and in a brief moment it had seemed perfect as an escape from everything.

It never would have worked though. In fact it was a good thing Sam had said no to the idea. He still would have been taken to Cold Oak and then Dean would never have been able to get to him in time, separated by an ocean and too far away from any kind of contacts to ask for help.

Not that Dean had gotten to him in time... The memory of his little brother stabbed to death still was too fresh in his mind even years later. It was the one thing that had gotten him to willingly fork over his soul in a crooked pawn job. Running wouldn't have fixed anything. It probably would have only made it all worse.

Yet considering everything that was going on, he almost wanted to suggest it again, just to see if they really could get away from all this crap.

"We should get checked in. I'm starving," he stated suddenly as he hefted the bag over his shoulder. A guilty part of him felt jabbed harshly and told him that he'd never actually answered his brother's question, but it was just enough to show him, right?

They couldn't go back to being brothers that fast, as much as he wanted it, but small steps in that direction might still help.

It didn't take long to put everything away and locate an appropriate place to kick back, not even a mile away from the hotel. It was everything Dean loved in a bar, wood panels, local beer on the tap, greasy finger food and a couple pool tables. No dartboard, but it was good enough for him to feel right at home. After ordering a couple drinks and burgers with the bartender, he sat down with Sam at a table tucked away in the corner, the younger man already opening his computer to start looking into things.

He hadn't expected him to get into it quite that fast, but maybe Sam really did still want to hide from him. Hunkered down behind the screen, he almost looked small despite his huge size. Experienced in reading his brother or not, this situation had thrown him for a loop.

"Find anything?" he asked, feeling he should extend an olive branch and try to get a conversation going.

"Not this fast," Sam said with a shake of his head. "I just started but I want to see if there's been any possible demon activity. We were out of commission for a while. Who knows what Lilith's been able to pull since then."

"I'd like to think the angels handled it while we were… away," Dean replied, his voice catching on that word. "But who the hell knows? It's pretty rare when they make any sense."

"Mm," the younger one murmured noncommittally as his fingers typed over the computer before stilling. "I think they made it pretty clear they expect us to take care of it. One way or the other we're going to need to track her down."

Dean wasn't sure that was actually the best idea really. Finding her wasn't really the problem so much as what were they going to do when they pulled it off. She'd been chasing after them pretty aggressively since last year. All it would take was allowing her to catch them but they didn't have any idea how to end the bitch.

Still, it was better for Sam to focus on that than the alternative.

God, how was he going to get them back to normal where they were comfortable with one another again? How did he find that spot where they were okay without making it feel like he was trying to wiggle out of his own sin and pretend that it didn't even happen? It was like trying to undo it and knowing that could never actually happen. He was torn between wanting Sam to forgive him but also to just punch Dean in the face.

To distract himself he ended up taking a huge bite out of his burger and washed it down with a couple gulps of beer. Sam had never been shy about how he felt about things, had always torn into Dad and Dean with exactly how he felt. Sure, they'd always argued about things because of it, but at least it had made it clear to the rest of the family where he stood. For Sam to not want to talk about something was so terribly unlike him and left Dean treading water with no clear idea of how to navigate.

So he had a choice to make. He could either make some attempt to bring it up, to try to smooth things over or just continue to ignore it as Sam seemed so eager to do. He almost wanted to ask for forgiveness but didn't really feel like he deserved it. It left him in a limbo of his own twisted up feelings. Maybe… maybe he wanted to be punished for it. Maybe he wanted it to make sense again in his own head, for there to be a clear line of where he was supposed to be. Hell almost seemed easy in comparison to this, this feeling of made to pay with his soul in pain and blood. At the very least it had been clear cut.

He felt a thumb on his chin and he jerked back both at the sudden unexpected sensation of it on his skin and from the sight in front of him. It was Sam wiping away grease from his lip, a strange closeness that he didn't think they'd shared since when they were kids. Any other time he might have played it off or made a crude joke that was in no way appropriate but he couldn't find it in himself to now.

What really affected him though, what froze him in spot was the look in Sam's eyes. Sam's eyes had already been rather large and expressive ever since he'd been a child. The guy was like a puppy at times, so expressive and open. It was something he'd always made fun of his brother for, his whole touchy feely routine, yet right now it was causing his heart to seize in his chest. Right in front of him, a mere arm's reach away he saw something in his brother's eyes he didn't think he'd ever seen before, at least not directed at him.

Neediness was there, not the petty kind of way like a spoiled brat wanting attention or a whiny girlfriend needing to be the focus in the room. No, it was a pure desire just to be seen, to be wanted, valued and cherished. It was a look that he'd seen… not him… no, that Wesson had seen in Sam, before he'd ripped his heart out by telling him to take a hike.

The chair he was sitting on fell back so suddenly the crash caused several people to look over, but he wasn't paying them any attention. He'd jerked back and felt his chest heave, shaking his head. He hadn't seen that. He hadn't. His fucking weird mind was playing tricks on him. Sam was his god damn brother! Sam didn't want that kind of thing! He was the sick one here!

"Dean, I-"

"I'm going to get some air," he snapped, turning his back on his brother and hightailing it out before any kind of argument could arise. "I feel sick."

It was a lame excuse, a flimsy little lie that both of them could easily tell wasn't going to fool anyone. It didn't matter though. It was like a wall between them, a little defense. In the short time it would have taken Sam to tear it down to get at him, Dean was already heading out and escaping as fast as he could. He probably looked like a fool, but he'd long since gotten used to the world kicking him in the stomach the last few years. The hell did he care over looking foolish?

He ended up outside, ducked away in a back alley just in case an attempt to come after him was made. Dean didn't need Sam to chase after him right now to demand an explanation for his behavior. No, he just needed to get away, needed to clear his head. Clearly he hadn't had enough time yet to do that.

"Fuck," he breathed as he rested against the wall, digging a hand through his hair. "Damn it. This isn't going to go away just cause you want it to. What the hell, Dean? Get your head together."

"Keeping yourself company out here all alone?"

He looked up at the voice, attached to a young woman. He arched an eyebrow at the sight, the lights of the streetlamps at her back both hiding the features of her face but enhancing the curves of her body. A somewhat shorter lady, but slender everywhere but the chest. A pack of cigarettes was in her hand, showing the reason she herself had come out back behind the building.

"Had to get some air," he repeated, wondering if she'd seen his little display inside. She must have. It's not like he'd been discrete in his exit.

"Yeah, it can get kind of musty in there," she replied with a shrug. "You got a light, by the way? I ran out of fluid in mine earlier."

Right, like a hunter was ever without one. Not that she knew he was a hunter. He couldn't blame her. Even he hadn't known he was one until recently. It was a scary thought, his life before being a huge lie, memories and feelings injected in his brain like someone had jabbed a needle right into it. The lighter was a constant presence in his pocket, where it felt wrong not to have it, and yet he'd been without it for weeks and had never even noticed.

All because he hadn't known who he was.

He pulled it out and flicked it to life for her, holding it up so she could light the stick. One resting between her lips, she leaned in and breathed in to spark the tobacco, her features coming in clear under the illumination of the small flame, small eyes and creamy skin with black hair of an Asian woman. Her smile was coy and translated to him quite while just why she'd actually come out here. Pure appreciation was in her as she looked over his frame with a slow move of her eyes that both he and she knew was obvious.

"Never seen you around here before," she brought up. "Tourist?"

"Something like that," he told her. "Name's Dean."

"That your real name?" she asked with a giggle. "You seem the type to give girls fake ones."

Oh boy, she didn't even know how ironic that question was.

"I am, but it is. What about you?"

"Nicki," she supplied.

"That your real name?" he shot back. Normally it would have been a playful remark, kind of teasing but it wasn't like that this time. He wasn't feeling it at all. Just like the girl running the desk at the hotel, Dean looked at this beautiful woman and felt nothing. Nothing at all. No want or desire, just revulsion at the mere idea of sex.

Was he sure he really was Dean Winchester? He would have jumped at it, would have been on this girl in a hot second, but here he was just a pit of unease and nothing else. It felt wrong, like the angels had booted his memory back up but forgotten several components of what he was supposed to be.

But Dean was desperate to feel like Dean again, the Dean that wooed pretty ladies, who lied about who he was and what he was doing in town. Who hadn't molested his own damn brother. There was almost always a lie involved, a lie about his name, his job, even his age a few times when he'd been much younger. It was easy to lie to a girl who wouldn't see him again come morning, and this girl seemed to be very into the idea that Dean would in fact be gone by morning.

So what if this time he had to lie about actually being interested? What was one more?

His lips met hers without anymore preamble. She didn't seem to mind either, from the way she kissed back. Eyes slid closed and he allowed himself to be lost in the moment.

Jealousy had never really been an issue for Sam before, not really. His relationships had been very rare, and most of them very short. Jessica and he had gotten along so well that he'd never worried about her straying, and all the girls before and after her had been fleeting. He'd never had to worry if Sarah was seeing anyone else because they'd had a simple weekend and one kiss together. What was he going to do, accuse the doctor maybe siren but not really of being unfaithful on their one night stand?

Of course, the siren had been a problem in and of itself. Fighting with Dean, finding out what he wanted wasn't some stripper but his own brother. That… probably should have been a bit of a clue for them that maybe they were a bit more open to sharing something that neither of them were willing to name. Or maybe the siren just had a weird kink. Who knew? You couldn't read too much into that sort of stuff. That's what led to irrational jealousy. Just because someone wouldn't share their phone with you didn't mean they were banging the mailman, maybe they just wanted some privacy. Leaping to conclusions very rarely led to anything good.

So normally Sam wouldn't have thought anything of a girl following after Dean. He wouldn't have thought about the two of them talking. He certainly wouldn't have thought anything of it when he walked outside and saw the Impala gone. He knew what those signs meant. His older brother was pretty good at giving Sam a head's up most times, either coming over to tell him or shooting him a wide, goofy smile and juvenile thumbs up from across the bar. Sometimes he'd just vanish like this time, though it was rare. With monsters out there, separating with no word was pretty dumb but sometimes his brother thought more with his dick than his brain. Though with full warning or not, being left alone for the night had occurred so many times before that he knew Dean had elected to take the lucky lady off somewhere, probably the hotel room, to show her a nice night.

Those things had happened before and he'd felt nothing more than annoyance and sometimes amusement. Usually it depended on if there was work to be done or not, and if he had the cash for a last minute spare room.

Now, now it burned inside of him. Because before those actions never meant anything to him. Dean would be gone for a few hours, a night at the most. He'd always come back, usually not even knowing the girl's name. It was because he had an itch to scratch, nothing more, and he was still the other person in the two man team that was the Winchester brothers.

This time was different though. Now Sam was here, had thrown everything at Dean, had begged him to come along with him when they'd just been Wesson and Smith, had shown him how much he needed Dean and was willing to do anything for him. And Dean… Dean was going to someone else. He was chasing after a girl like it had never happened, like all the feelings Sam was seeping in meant nothing.

He could taste the bile rising in his throat, the anger white hot in his chest. Panting hard, he wanted to hit something, wanted to break the nearest available object.

He had to get it through his thick skull. Dean wasn't feeling the same way about this as he was. There was no want in his brother like there still was for him, no passion and need. It was gone, evaporated as if Smith had died and hadn't even left a ghost of a memory behind. Was it really so easy for him to let go of what they'd shared and just move on?

Or was he doing this on purpose, to firmly cement to Sam that the break up was real, that Dean was going to move on with his life and could find people way less damaged than his brother, less sick? It felt like his older brother was intentionally trying to hurt him, and Sam… like some jealous ex was allowing himself to be that easily played and hurt.

He wasn't sure why he did it. Maybe he wanted to fight back against the feelings. Maybe he wanted to show Dean if the older Winchester could move on then he could too. Maybe he wanted to hurt Dean back. One way or the other, it would be sure to piss him off, but a dark little part of him relished in the thought as his fingers moved over his phone and dialed the number of who he knew would cut Dean the deepest.

"Ruby, it's me," he said into the phone. "You have a place I can crash tonight?"

End of Chapter 18

If I was watching this on a television I'd be screaming, "Sammy, no!" at it. Yet here I am writing it. Go figure.