A/N : Okay, yikes! I meant to update it on the weekend, but I'm a day late. Sorry ;)

Hope you like it and thank you to all those who support me!

Leave a review if you can!

Sam opened his eyes to the sun streaming and the trees rushing past him in a familiar blur. Nothing Else Matters played from the Impala's stereo and he stretched relaxedly and turned to face his brother.

Dean was tapping along to the song, but he looked at Sam as he awoke and gave him a grin.

"Hiya, Sammy. Princess get enough beauty sleep?"

Sam scowled, jabbing an elbow into Dean's ribs, relishing the pained 'oof' that followed.

He looked out the windshield and squinted at the sun growing steadily brighter.

"Where we going?", he asked, struggling to remember where their hunt was. Which, now that he thought about it, he knew nothing about. Where they even going on a hunt?

"Where do you think, Sammy?", Dean scoffed with the dismissive air that came with being Dean Winchester. And yet ... Sam whipped his head to frown at his brother and the last tendril of sleep fell off. There was a detached coldness in Dean's eyes that sent a shiver creeping up Sam's spine.

"Dean?", he called slowly and flinched as Dean exhaled angrily.

"Always gotta know, huh, Sammy? Tear into everything and leave it laying in pieces but not try to fix it. That's always been you, Sam. Left the fixing up to me", Dean rambled off, not taking his eyes off the road but the coldness taking root more firmly, the previously brilliant grin now replaced by a smirk.

There was nothing snarky about it. It was just ... empty.

Sam swallowed. He twitched uncomfortably, trying to wrap his head around the sudden turn of events.

"Wha- what do you mean? Dean, I -"

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, like you don't know? Come on, Sam! Who left his family and left me to pick up the pieces? Who got into a car crash and left me to fix everything? Who got his father killed? Who tried to kill me, so many times?"

Sam had paled steadily with each word and he blinked rapidly now, to stop the trickle of tears that he felt down his cheeks. But he was frozen. And freezing, as he shivered and slid down against his seat.

Like a coward, the words came unbidden to his mind and he flinched, barely managing not to clamp his hands over his ears as Dean continued.

He deserved to hear it.

"Who couldn't even kill a demon, couldn't take care of himself and got himself killed, Sammy?", the nickname settled uncomfortably into Sam's gut as the fondness was all but gone from the word, hate spitting from it. Dean's voice lowered to almost a whisper, but in a way that every single syllable fell onto Sam's ears. "Who failed to save me from the deal and left me in hell for four months?"

Sam whimpered, the tears falling unheeded now. He half expected Dean's eyes to turn yellow or black.

They didn't.

And Sam didn't know which was worse.

"De-", he started, voice trembling, but didn't get far as Dean - not Dean, couldn't be, please let it not be - spoke over him.

"You know what would be awesome right now? If I showed you. Showed you what actually happened down there while you were enjoying your life here."

Sam stared at him, words sticking to his throat. What did Dean mean when - he couldn't mean - not hell?

"Yes, hell, Sammy. Let's see how much you like that. And you know what?", Dean's voice held not even a degree of warmth and each cold word seeped Sam of any warmth remaining in him and he shivered again.

He didn't want to hear what Dean was about to say next. But he didn't want to stop him.

He deserved the words that Dean spat at him.

The truth does hurt, after all, he thought to himself.

"I've made some decisions that I regret in my life. But I've never, never, regretted anything more than making that deal to save your life."

With that, Sam's world fell apart and he was spiralling. Twisting towards the light that grew brighter. Hell. Darkness enclosed around him and all he could hear were screams, hands holding him down, his breath stuttering in his chest, body writing beneath the heat and the cold and the sheer weight of Dean's words.

Words that had been engraved into his brain for about a year but words he had never actually expected Dean to spit at him with such loathing in his eyes.

Words that hurt that much because they were just that true.

Dean didn't remember Hell. He wondered if his brain had locked those memories away to protect him from the trauma or whatever or if he really did not have any of those memories.

Whatever the reason, he knew that he didn't need to remember it. And not for any of the obvious reasons.

He didn't need to, because he was living it right now.

Hell had nothing on this moment that Dean was being forced to live through.

Had nothing, apparently, on what Sam was going through right now. If his screams were anything to go by.

Because what had been a peaceful nap had gone to shit pretty much in a matter of minutes. In true Winchester fashion.

Sam hadn't been having a normal nightmare. He had gone from frowning a bit at some fucked up memory that sleep had brought forth to whimpering. It had quickly escalated to full body shivers and Dean had hurried to gather up blankets to cover him up with when trying to wake him up had yielded no results.

That was when the screaming had started.

Dean had been startled to a halt as he stared at the writhing figure on the bed. All that had gone through his head had been 'Not again', before he had snapped into action, abandoning the blanket he had managed to pull from his bed and scrambling to Sam's bedside.

"Sam! Sammy, wake -", Dean's arm on his shoulder had done nothing but startle Sam badly that he had almost fallen out of the bed. Dean had nearly gone over the other end of the bed in his haste to catch Sam.

Sam, who had twisted away yet again from him and landed on the floor with a thump. Dean hadn't been able to do anything but watch in shock as Sam crawled away from his touch and wedged himself into the corner between the bedside table and the wall.

There, he had wrapped his arms around his knees, almost disappearing behind his hair and rocked back and forth, occasional whimpers and incoherent mutters tearing Dean's heart apart.

Which was how Dean found himself living a brand new version of hell as he knelt about four feet from his brother, trying to reach him with words and touch, while doing his utmost not to send him into panic mode again.

Sam was fucking cowering, hands raised to protect himself from whatever he was seeing, breathing edging on hyperventilation. Goosebumps prickled up beneath the sweat on his skin and the rosy points of fever on his cheeks made Dean cringe. He was mumbling words Dean couldn't understand, nor would he be able to, if he did try, for all that they trembled and stretched over more syllables than was needed.

"Sammy?", he said, pitching his voice low, as he sat cross legged across from Sam, his little brother just out of arm's reach. "Hey, you're safe, little brother. Whatever you're seeing? It's not real."

Dean pursed his lips. The words didn't seem to be having any effect.

But this was Sam.

And Dean would sooner donate his limbs than give up on the kid.

"You remember when you used to run to me crying from those stupid clowns? Even the McDonald dude? You remember what I used to tell you, Sammy?", Dean could remember clear as day, a young floppy haired kid with the same doe eyes and fearful gaze looking up at him with so much trust. Believing that his big brother could save him from anything at all.

He wondered if Sam still felt the same.

Probably not. He swallowed thickly. It wasn't like Dean did much protecting these last few years.

"I used to say 'Let them come, Sammy. I bet they'll go away screaming when they see me.' And you used to look at me with these hopeful eyes, even though I had told it to you so many times before. And even though not one clown had actually laid a hand on you."

Dean couldn't help but smile at the memory. Sam 's shivering was tapering off slowly and even though he was looking down, hair falling in sweaty clumps over his eyes, Dean could make out the tense line of his shoulders. Sam was listening.

Encouraged, he continued, adding a teasing lilt to his story.

"It was like you needed me to remind you every time and when I told you, you used to wait for the words that would seal the deal. The fear would go away and then you'll have this look. Like you knew what I was gonna say and you would get all excited to hear it."

Dean was full on chuckling and he carefully moved a bit closer to Sam. He was so close that he could easily touch him. But he refrained from doing that yet. Sam was still breathing fast and Dean could see the sweat trickling down his face to pool in the hollow of his throat.

"You used to do this weird thing with your mouth to hide your smile. Thought you were being clever, but I could see through your dorkiness, of course. So I used to bend down and whisper 'You know why they'll run away, kiddo?'. And your face would go all red 'cause you would be holding in your giggles. You would whisper back, loud as hell, 'Why, De'?'." He imitated little Sam's squeaky voice, high and shrill, and hoped to God that he hadn't imagined the twitch on Sam's lips beneath all that hair.

Sam slowly raised his head a bit to look at him. Carefully, as if to gauge his reaction.

Or maybe still making sure he was real. The thought came unbidden to Dean and he pushed it away, hoping against hope that they weren't back to square one again.

He would take this for now and try to control himself from cheering out loud.

"You remember what I used to say, kiddo?", Dean directed the question to Sam this time. He held his breath, hoping.

His little brother's eyes were pooling with unshed tears and Dean resisted the urge to draw him in and comfort him right that instant. He would give him time. Sam needed it.

Sam opened his mouth and tried to speak before seemingly changing his mind. His eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Dean's and Dean looked steadily back, smiling encouragingly.

Sam's reply was croaked out and whisper quiet at best, but Dean heard it all the same. He had been waiting for it, after all.

"'I'm Batman.'"

Dean grinned. He raised his arms and gingerly touched Sam's shoulders. Sam didn't flinch away, and his eyes still hadn't moved on from Dean's, but Dean took it as a good sign and pulled him in.

His arms came round Sam's sweaty shoulders, as Sam shuddered once and relaxed into Dean's warmth. He laid there, limp, as Dean rocked him gently, whispering words that only the two of them could hear.

"That's right, little brother. I'm Batman. I'm here. I'm here, Sammy, I'm here."

Both of them ignored the tears gently mixing with the sweat. They couldn't tell whom they belonged to anyway.

A/N : Okay, I had a heavy heart while writing this sentence : "I've made some decisions that I regret in my life. But I've never, never, regretted anything more than making that deal to save your life."

Hehe but we know that that's just Sam's nightmare, so. Had to make it as angsty as possible.

Poor Sam, how he suffers.

Hopefully, the next one will be up soon too, lovelies. Leave a review!