Chapter 4

"Go on and get your things Sammy," Dean told him when they stepped back into the house. "No need for you to stay in that closet while you're here. There's plenty of room in my bedroom."

"I don't know," Sam hesitated, not sure about trusting Dean.

"Come on dude. It helps me sleep knowing you're nearby."

"It's never mattered before," Sam noted giving Dean a quick glance before looking away.

"Well, it does now. I'm going to use the bathroom while you grab your things." Dean stepped into the bathroom to do his routine giving Sam a chance to move into his bedroom. He took his time and when he came out, he was pleased to find Sam sitting on the bed by the door. "You get the other bed bro."

"Why?" Sam questioned. "They're both the same."

"Because if anyone comes after you, they'll have to come through me first," Dean said without thinking about it and then wondered where that came from. It was pulled up from deep down in his memories, like an automatic reflex.

"You joking, right? You've never cared about what happened to me before."

"Things are going to change. I want you to be happy and I'll do what I can to make that happen. Bathroom's free."

"Thanks," Sam mumbled snagging sleep clothes before stepping from the room mulling over the changes in his brother. He wasn't buying it for one minute. There had to be some motive behind all this that Dean was hiding, and he wasn't going to let him strike first. A plan was starting to form in his head that might solve his problem and get rid of Dean in the process.

"Nite Sammy," Dean sighed as he rolled over and settled.

"Nite Dean," Sam answered going to the other bed and turning the covers down. He turned off the light before laying down and getting comfortable. He listened to Dean's steady breathing, listening closely to hear it even out and slow, knowing her was going to sleep. Sam tried his best to stay awake, but it wasn't long before he was pulled away into the abyss.

spn

Sam jerked awake when someone shook his shoulder, and he stared wide eyed in fright at Dean standing by his bed. He felt his chest tighten so hard that he couldn't get a breath. Black spots wavered in front of his eyes as he gasped for air.

"Breath Sammy," Dean demanded leaning him forward and slapping him on the back hard enough to make him whoosh air from him lungs and wheeze in a shaky breath. "Come on kid, work those lungs." Dean leaned him back and rubbed his chest. "Breathe with me bro," Dean encouraged placing Sam's hand on his own chest and breathing slowly and evenly.

Sam watched Dean as he worked hard on doing what Dean asked. He could feel Dean's chest moving up and down and feel the warmth coming through his shirt. He tried to match his breathing with Dean's. The burning started easing finally and he was able to pull in a long breath.

"That's my boy," Dean praised him when he saw the color coming back into his face. "What happened with you?"

"Nothing," Sam croaked out. "I'm fine." Sam closed his eyes as he worked on getting his breathing under control. "You just surprised me."

"Man Sammy, sorry about that. I wanted to see if you wanted to go into town with me and hang out for a while this morning?"

"Seriously?" Sam asked eyeing him to see if he was serious.

"Yeah, I told Mom not to worry about breakfast we'd get something while we were out. I think it would be good if we spent some time together. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah, I guess." Sam pushed the covers back to get up.

"I'll be in the kitchen waiting on you." Dean left Sam along to get ready and headed for the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.

Sam used the bathroom and looked out into the hallway to be sure no one was there. In order for his plan to work, he needed to be hurt. He braced himself before jerking the door backwards into his face, splitting his lip and bruising the side of his face. He checked the mirror to see how it looked and wiped the blood away. He slapped hard at his face, making it red and slammed his arm down on the counter to bruise it.

Thinking that was enough injury, Sam went back into the bedroom to change clothes and put his plan in motion. He brushed his hair into his face like he was trying to hide his face before walking to the kitchen,

"Good morning, Sam, how did you sleep last night?" Mary asked Sam.

"Okay," Sam mumbled not looking up at her as he held his arm across his chest.

"Honey what's wrong?" Mary questioned sensing something not right with Sam.

"Sammy? Are you okay?" Dean asked getting a feeling something had changed with Sam.

"Oh my God! What happened to you?" Mary asked in shock when she made Sam look at him and saw his face.

"Nothing," Sam whispered giving Dean a frightened look and grimacing when Mary grabbed his arm.

"This isn't nothing," she insisted seeing the bruise forming on his arm and the side of his face. "Dean what did you do to him?" Mary accused in a loud voice. "Hasn't he suffered enough by your hands?"

"This wasn't me," Dean tried to explain shocked by Sam's appearance.

"I thought you were starting to change. You were acting nice to your brother and now to do this."

"Sammy, tell her it wasn't me."

"He said I'd get it worse if I said anything," Sam sobbed, letting tears run down his face for theatrics. "He's not changed at all. He was only pretending so he could abuse me again. I don't want to stay here. Can I call Dad to come get me?" He looked accusingly at Dean with hatred in his eyes.

"Go on, go call him," Mary told Sam pushing him from the room. She turned toward Dean with her hands on her hips. "I was hoping you had gotten better Dean. You seemed to be making such good progress and the doctor said you were learning how to cope and deal with your temper and bursts of anger."

No one saw the smirk on Sam's face as he headed to the living room to call his father and tell him the lies, he told his Mom. He was getting good at convincing them to believe him after all these years.

"Doctor? What are you talking about?" Dean asked in shock.

"We'll talk about it when your father gets here. Why don't you go outside and cool off? I don't want to have to call the police again."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut as he tried to make sense of what was happening and what his Mom was saying. He didn't remember any cops being called to their house. Why would Sam do that to himself and blame him? This wasn't right? He turned with a huff and stomped from the kitchen to the deck to be alone with his thoughts.

spn

Dean was walking around the backyard and tried to make sense of what just happened. He couldn't believe Sam would do this him. Why would he injure himself and then blame him for it? He had been outside for over thirty minutes when he heard a familiar rumble coming down the street and walked around the house to see the Impala pulling up the driveway and stopping at the garage. He smiled thinking there was something here that was the same.

"Hey Dad," Dean spoke to him when he got out of the car.

"Don't hey Dad me, you bastard," John growled as he slammed the car door. "I was unsure about bringing Sam back so soon, but your mother said you were doing so good since your release."

"I don't know what you're talking about Dad. What hospital? I haven't been in a hospital."

"The doctor warned us about your disassociation with reality. He said you would use memory loss as an excuse. I need to talk to your mother." John shoved by Dean to head for the front door and knocked loudly. He waited for Mary to answer and stepped inside leaving Dean standing outside.

Dean stood outside the house for a while longer before gathering the courage to go back inside. He looked toward the family room and could hear the raised voices of his parents and headed for the kitchen to find Sam sitting at the table with a smug look on his face that was bruised, and he had a black eye already forming. It was like he was happy all this was happening.

"Why did you do that Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice filled with hurt and sadness.

"Do what?" Sam asked innocently, not looking at Dean as he spoke.

"Lie to Mom about me hitting you. I would never do that." Dean looked with doubt at Sam.

"Are you so sure? Maybe now that I'm older, I'm finally standing up for myself and getting my revenge," Sam commented. "Oh wow!" he laughed harshly. "The look on your face is priceless. Wish I had my camera to take a photo. I can't believe you can't see how much I hate you and don't want you around. I wish they had kept you locked up and maybe I can help with that."

"This isn't right. None of this is right." Dean rubbed his head as the stabbing pain came back and memories of a different Sam played in his mind. He fought to hold on to them and didn't see Sam stand or see what he picked up from the counter.

"You think I'm having fun now, watch this," Sam's smirky voice sang to him.

Dean looked up in time to see Sam take a small paring knife and slice a gash in his lower arm, watching as blood began to seep out. He threw the knife at Dean and pushed him back into the table, making things fall. Sam grabbed a chair and threw it across the floor to draw the attention of their parents.

"No, please don't!" Sam cried out falling to the floor and clasping his injured arm to his chest. "Don't hurt me again!" he begged as fake tears rolled down his cheeks.

"What's going on it here?" John asked looking from one son to the other.

"Sam, what happened?" Mary cried out falling to her son's side.

"He-He- attacked me…" Sam gasped as his body shook. "Please don't let him hurt me again."

Mary and John gasped when they saw the blood dripping from between Sam's fingers and the frightened look on his face as he tried to scoot away from Dean.

"That's it," John demanded. "Call the hospital, I'm taking him back." He grabbed Dean's arm and roughly drug him from the kitchen. "Take Sam to the urgent care."

Dean looked back to see a look of sheer delight on Sam's face as he gave him a triumphant grin that changed to one of pain when Mary came back with a towel to wrap around his arm. Something inside of Dean fractured in that moment and he didn't resist as John hauled him out the front door and threw him into the passenger seat of the Impala.

His eyes glazed and he lost all touch with reality. All this was too much for him to handle. His little brother had literally cut himself and blamed him for it, had lied to their parents, had betrayed him, and seemed to enjoy it. What had happened to Sammy that turned him into a monster?

It wasn't right, none of this was right, but he couldn't grasp his thoughts long enough to understand them. Dean closed his eyes and winced in pain, just wanting it all to go away. He slumped lifelessly against the door withdrawing deeper into himself as John pulled from the driveway to take him away to god knows where.

A/N: Dean's having a hard time believing the dreamworld he is in as the real world pushes in. He can't understand why Sam would do this to him. Thank you to any guests who have left reviews. Reviews/Comments would be great. NC