Altitude
Chapter Three

Author's Note: The confrontation. I'm happy to be back in third person, even if I'm not completely happy with this scene. After a lot of rewrites, I realized the biggest problem was that these guys have too many issues for one conversation… so some of them got left out. Burn.

Do drop all your notes, good, bad and ugly.

Dean let his breath out, settling heavily in one the simple chairs at the small table. Beyond the window, orange streetlights were full of heavy snow, the soothing, storybook effect of tumbling flakes not reaching the elder Winchester.

He lanced over at his brother, making sure Sam was still asleep. Sighing, he reached into his pocket, fishing out the small bottle he kept hidden.

"What's that, Dean?"

"Shit!" He leapt up startled, whirling on his brother. "Fuck, Sam!" He slipped the bottle away as if it had never appeared. "You're going to give me a heart attack."

The younger pushed himself up, "What is it, Dean?"

"What?" he smirked. "A heart attack? And here I thought you were supposed to be the smart one."

Jaw set, Sam stood. "I'm not messing around." He faced his brother, "What are you taking?"

Dean's eyes narrowed slightly, "Aspirin."

"Yeah?" the younger cocked an eyebrow. "Well, good, 'cause I've had this altitude headache for about an hour now and I could really use…"

"No." Dean stated much too quickly and forcefully.

Sam gave a victorious smirk, "No."

"I thought you were sleeping." The elder snorted, "You didn't sleep one wink in the car, did you?"

"You're trying to change the subject."

"When was the last time you actually slept?"

"What the fuck are you taking?"

"You want to do this, Sam?" Dean demanded, throwing his arms out. " 'Cause if you do, we're going to do it! But remember, I'm not the only one with secrets; and all your shit is coming out too!"

Sam hesitated, breaths falling heavily. Dean was giving him the chance to back away, to leave everything as it was. Maybe, just maybe, he should take it… Hashing out their issues could make things worse between them. And he didn't know if he was ready to reveal his secrets…

The younger didn't know what to do, so he demanded, "You want to do this?"

No hesitation, "I want to know why you can't sleep, yeah."

"And all your shit? Your secrets?"

The elder did hesitate then, but, at length, asked, "Why aren't you sleeping, Sam?"

"What are you taking?"

"We going to play the 'you go first' game?" Dean stalked toward his brother. " 'Cause I always won when we were kids."

Sam faced him, not backing down, "I'm not a little kid anymore."

"Tell me about Jessica."

"I loved her!" Sam spat, shoving his brother hard. "Which is something you will never understand!"

"That doesn't matter," the elder grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, jerking him forward.

"Doesn't matter?" He seized Dean's jacket, gaining better purchase on the lapels than the elder could on Sam's T-shirt. "Of course it matters! Of course it fucking matters!"

"Not right now, it doesn't!" Dean swung him around, "Tell me about your nightmares!"

"You know what I see in them! You were there that night!"

"I do know, Sam! I know because I'm dreaming it too!"

"What?" the younger yanked his jacket hard.

"Dammit, Sam! You've got me so fucking worried that I'm dreaming of your precious sweetheart burning!"

"Don't talk like that!"

"Why not?" Dean shoved him away. "She's dead!"

"Fuck you!" Sam shouted, swinging his fist without thinking.

Dean reacted instinctively, catching the younger's wrist and turning it sharply. Sam grunted, finding himself thrown up against the wall, arm twisted behind him.

"Not bad, little brother." He felt Sam stiffen. "What say we talk about those nightmares now?"

"Get off me!" Sam snarled, trying to jerk away.

"Not until you talk."

"Let me go!" the younger struggled.

"Spill, Sam," Dean demanded keeping him pinned against the wall.

"Dean!" the younger cried, tone changing. "You're breaking my arm!"

"No, I'm not. You know how I'd have to twist it to break it and it ain't like this."

"Please, Dean! Please let me go!"

The elder frowned, "What?"

"Please!" Sam's voice cracked. "Please! Please, Dean! Please, let me go!"

Releasing his brother immediately, Dean took a step back, watching, baffled, as Sam sank to the floor, turning slightly to lean against the wall, eyes closed.

"Sammy?" Dean crouched before his brother, gently taking his shoulders in his hands. "Sam… I'd never hurt you."

"I know…" he breathed. "I know."

"Sam?"

"I'm sorry." The younger blinked his eyes open, "That thing, though… It…"

"The shape shifter?"

Sam nodded, "I'm sorry."

Dean squeezed his brother's shoulders reassuringly, "Sam… what did it say to you?"

"Nothing."

"Sam."

The younger laughed dryly, "It said you had a lot of issues with me."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "I think, at this point, that's a pretty unnecessary statement." He was surprised to see a flash of hurt in the younger man's eyes. "Dude, you're my brother. I'm supposed to have issues with you."

"You're an ass."

"Yeah. But, look, Sam, like it or not, I'm all you got."

For a long moment, the younger sought a reply, opting, in the end, for silence.

"And you're all I got." Dean stood, turning to face the window, back to his brother. "Hell, without you, all I got is a cold highway full of monsters."

Sighing softly, Sam lowered his eyes. He wasn't sure if is brother was being sincere or if he was trying to trick him. The younger suddenly realized how exhausted he was; how tired and strained Dean looked. They could allow everything to slide, except…

"I dreamt about it for days."

Dean looked away from the snow at the soft whisper, "About what?"

"Jess…"

"Sam, you've dreamt about that for weeks."

He shook his head, "Before it happened."

"Sam…" the elder crouched before his brother. "What…"

"Days before it happened, I dreamt it. Every detail. I knew it was going to happen."

"No, Sam. You had a nightmare… nothing more."

"I saw it. I knew…"

"This is why you feel responsible?" he sounded incredulous.

"I knew and I did nothing!"

"Sam," Dean began, quite serious. "Have you ever had a vision before?"

The younger bit his lip, "No."

"A prophetic dream? A divination?"

"No."

"No. We've never come across any evidence of a real, no bullshit physic either, so unless you think you're the first…"

"I don't."

"Sam, you had a nightmare." He laid his hand on his little brother's shoulder, "Something horrible happened to Mom and Dad's told us stories since we were kids. We both had nightmares from those stories. You get this wonderful new girl in your life and out come those damn dreams again…"

He shook his head stubbornly. "I knew. I just didn't want to admit to it. I was done hunting. I was out! My fucking pride! I should've…"

"Should've what?"

"I should have at least been there for her!"

"But instead you were out running around with me."

"I don't blame you, man. I really don't." Sam closed his eyes. "I should have been there."

"To do what?"

"I could have stopped it!"

"How?" Dean's eyes flashed. "We've been after this thing for twenty years… and we still don't know what it is or how to kill it."

"I should've, at least, told you when you showed up."

"Great… Then we both could have not been able to do anything together."

Sam couldn't hold his brother's gaze, "I could have warned her."

"Yeah? And how would that have gone? 'Hey, so, I'm actually a demon hunter and spent my childhood ghost busting and killing things everyone thinks are imaginary. Sorry I never told you before, but, hey, I think one of these things is coming after you.' Right…"

Dean shook his head, continuing, "Then she'd have hated you for the lie and thought you were crazy. She would have hated you and she still would have died."

The younger winced, "She might have believed me."

"Okay… Then instead of being happy, she spends her last days in mortal terror… and still dies."

"No…"

"What if you'd been wrong, Sam? You 'warn' her, she thinks you're crazy, she hates you and nothing happens. Then you lose her to a nightmare."

The younger's eyes were wide as they flashed to his brother, silent and pleading.

"You couldn't have done anything Sam. Jessica died-" he saw familiar pain flood the younger's countenance "-but she died loving you. She died happy and loving you. And it does matter."

Sam choked down a sob, squeezing his eyes shut. He took a weak swing, just barely smacking his brother's chest.

"Sammy…" He clasped his brother's shoulders. "It wasn't your fault."

The younger heaved his breath out, dropping his head back against the wall. "You don't blame me?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Hell…" he closed his eyes, keeping perfectly still.

Dean watched him for a long moment, half wondering if Sam had fallen asleep. At length, he shifted around, moving to sit beside his brother, reclining against the wall, looking out to the falling snow.

"Hey," Sam quipped after a time. "I really am a freak, aren't I?"

Dean smirked. "Yeah. Yeh are."

He turned his eyes up to his older brother, "Did you mean what you said the other day?"

"Which?"

"That you're right there beside me?"

Grinning, Dean slid an arm around his brother's shoulders. "All the way, Sammy." He looked back out the streaked window, "All the way."

Sam closed his dry, sore eyes, settling back against the sure weight of his brother's arm about his back. It was still familiar and despite everything, he felt as safe in that moment as he had when he was a frightened five year old and Dean had hugged him.

Sighing, he let his temple fall to his big brother's shoulder, the elder's distant gaze set on the swirling orange of snow beyond the window. Bracing himself, he reached into the pocket of Dean's jacket, snatching the small bottle hidden there.

The elder moved quickly, grasping Sam's wrist pointedly, not gripping it tight enough that he couldn't pull away.

"Dean," he asked softly. "What are these?"

Letting his breath out, the elder turned from the window. His brother was just as clever as he'd feared: Sam leaving the issue until Dean's anger had run its course, his emotions stirred up like chaff. "It's nothing to be concerned about."

"I am concerned." Sam turned dark, sincere eyes up to his brother as Dean reclaimed the bottle from his unresisting fingers. "What are they?"

"Look, Sam," he sighed long and low. "I drive a lot of hours on a lot of uninteresting roads, usually by myself. I gotta do something to keep alert. Why do you think I crank the music so loud?"

"You're making them yourself."

"You can buy 'em anywhere, man."

"But you're not."

"You're so sure?"

The younger nodded toward the pills, "It's an Excedrin bottle. And don't expect me to believe you just kept 'em in there so I wouldn't know; I never see the label 'cause you keep them hidden."

Dean rolled the bottle between his thumb and pointer. "I tried the Wal-Mart brand. These work better."

"They're dangerous?"

"No."

The reply was too quick. "You refused to let me take one."

"Sammy." A little chuckle. "The last thing you need is something to help keep you awake."

"Dean…"

The elder sighed again. "They're a bit… addictive. And I've been getting headaches. But-" he gave Sam's shoulders a squeeze, "-that's probably your fault."

"I don't want you to take them anymore."

"It's not that big a deal, Sam."

"Please."

Dean heaved his breath out, looking down at his brother. They weren't the sort to say 'please.' They took what they wanted; cajoled, bartered or convinced. But even when they were kids, Dean melted whenever Sam said 'please;' caved instantly at the word, no matter if he knew it would end badly.

"You're not on your own anymore," the younger pressed. "I'll get some sleep and I can take a turn at the wheel… Dean… Please."

The elder sighed wearily, turning away from those imploring eyes. He dropped his head against the wall, still rolling the bottle between his fingers. Setting his gaze, he flicked his wrist, tossing it into the waste basket by the door. "Happy?"

Sam grinned smugly, "Yeah."

They fell into silence, Dean content to simply watch the snow, Sam leaning against him like when they were small.

After a time, the younger smirked, "I think somewhere in all this, you said you loved me."

"Is that some secret?" Dean muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"I said 'shut your cake-hole and get some sleep!' "

He laughed, "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean gave him a hard nudge.

"Hey, asshole," he waited until his brother held his gaze. "I love you too."