So, I re-read this - something a writer should never do by the way according to a very talented and well-known writer (Snoopy) - and realized that the quotes that I had written that originally sparked this story were forgotten when I wrote it...so I had to add them in...it changes very little of the story, so you probably don't have to read it, but it made me feel better about how it came out, so...

Hey guys, here's the end...I'm not exactly happy with the way it came out, I was hoping for more mushy, but Sam and Dean weren't feeling too into that, so this is what resulted...

On a happier note, finals are over, surgery has been observed, and as soon as I finish packing and driving home, I can start working on Blindsided again...so provided the muses haven't totally left me, there should be a new chapter out in the next few days or so...

Chapter 3

Dean dove for his brother, reaching out with his left hand to swat at the weapon, to grab it from him, to jam his finger in the trigger hold. He wasn't really sure how he was going to stop Sam from doing the unthinkable, but he knew that he had to, one way or another. He felt himself slam into his brother's chest, felt the ribs in his own chest grating against each other, felt his finger crush between the trigger and the cold metal of the gun casing. Then he felt his finger slip and he heard the gun go off. He heard himself grunt as he and Sam vaulted down against the bedside table, heard his brother's gasp at the pain he must have felt.

They rolled onto the ground, and Dean saw stars as his chest exploded in pain. But he couldn't worry about that, he had to see if he'd saved his brother. So he opened his eyes and pushed Sam off of him, carefully rolling the younger boy on his back.

Sam's eyes were closed, and there was blood staining the carpet. Dean panicked. He didn't know how to help his brother if the boy were dead. He didn't know how to help himself if the boy were dead. All he knew was that he failed, and that he had been abandoned again. He felt anger first, and then guilt, and finally fear. The emotions were all rolled up in his head and they clutched his heart and stole his breath. Dean curled into a ball against the bed frame, and buried his head in his knees. Tears that had been dried before he'd burst into the room were running fresh tracks down his cheeks, and sobs wracked his body. His brother was really dead; Dean really had killed him.

But then he heard it. He wasn't sure at first that it hadn't been his imagination, but he'd been sure he'd heard his brother groan. Then he felt it and he couldn't deny this time, that his brother was still alive. He felt Sam's foot move next to him and he jolted back to his knees, paying closer attention to his brother's state than he had before.

Sam's eyes were still closed, but Dean saw that the temple that had let Sam's gun rest on it was intact. Carefully, the older brother moved around to the younger one's head and lifted it to rest in his lap. He could feel the graze where the bullet had ripped open the back of Sam's scalp, and Dean realized just how close he had come to losing the boy. He gulped and stroked the wayward locks out of his brother's face, taking note for the first time that Sam's chest was falling easily. He was unconscious, but he wasn't dead.

Dean checked Sam's pulse and was relieved to find that it was strong as ever. He removed both hands from his brother's neck and arm and ran his hands through his own hair. This had been too close, and he was going to have to make things right with his brother as soon as he was able to. He couldn't even try to convince himself that Sam had been possessed, he realized that his actions had cut Sam to the core and forced him to this.

The older Winchester wasn't sure how long he had sat between the two beds, cuddling his brother's head in his lap and just staring off into space. He wasn't sure what it was that caught his attention, but when he turned to see what it was, he recognized it as a journal. It wasn't his father, and he knew it wasn't his; Sam wouldn't have known about the secret compartment under the weapons in the trunk that Dean had crafted. So that meant that it had to be his brother's book. Dean wasn't sure if he should attempt to reach the bound-leather item under the bed where it had fallen, but he knew that desperate times called for desperate measures, and he wasn't entirely sure what could be considered desperate if this couldn't.

So he reached for the book and turned to the last entry, knowing that he could attempt to go back and read the earlier entries if need be. Sure enough, the last entry had the present day's date, and Dean began to read.

When he finished, there were more tears checked in the corner of his eyes, and he knew he had to wake his brother up; talk to him; make him understand that he wasn't worthless if nothing else. Dean wouldn't have lasted the last few months without his baby brother, and Sam needed to know that now, no matter what the cost.

So he lifted the boy into the bed closest to the door and softly began calling him, shaking his shoulder lightly; afraid to scare him. He was rewarded a few minutes later when Sam's eyes fluttered open. Dean sat back on the bed so he wouldn't crowd his brother, and gulped. He waited until Sam had fully woken before speaking up.

"I think, we need, to talk." It was the understatement of the century. "I don't care what you think; you're telling me everything, Sam. You can't hold out on me like you did about Jess. I can't…we can't…I need you around, little brother. We need to fix this."

The words were choked and wrought with emotion, and Sam pushed himself up on the bed, sitting back against the wall. He nodded and took the offered tissues that Dean had plucked from the bedside table, pushing them against the burn on the back of his head.

"I know we do. Dean, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've done, everything I've said. I didn't mean any of what happened today to come out the way it did. I was annoyed at you sure, but I was really angry at…"

"At yourself, I know. But none of this is your fault, Sam, and you can't let it do this," he pointed to the gun still on the floor, "to you. God, man, you scared the shit out of me. This is my fault, not yours; I just don't know what to do about it now. I was angry at first today, yeah, but you had to give me a little bit of time to process everything that happened. Damn it, Sammy, I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too."

"When I said I'd die for you, I meant it. I'd die if it meant that you would be all right, that you would live without the fear that your brother is going to shoot you down in the middle of the night as you sleep. I see the fear in your eyes, and I know you lie awake at night waiting for me to snap like Ellicott made me. And I'd die to stop that. That's why I was going to..."

"Don't you ever dare do that. Not for me, not for dad, not for Jess, not for anyone..."

Sam just stared at his brother, realizing that he had done the worst thing possible, on top of everything else he had done in the past twenty-four hours. "Dean, I…" he sighed as he simply didn't know what to say.

Dean watched as his little brother faltered over his words, and then saw him just give up any pretense he had of being strong. The younger brother simply buried his face in his hands and started to sob. Dean's face tightened and he turned away, gulping away the pain that his brother's breakdown caused him. The sobs that wracked Sam cut at Dean's ears and he stood from the bed.

Sam felt his brother leave him, and it made him cry harder. He hadn't wanted any of this to happen, hadn't wanted to hurt Dean anymore than he already had, and the pain he felt at his brother's abandonment gave him an idea of what his older brother would have felt. Relief flowed through him seconds later when Dean sat down next to him, laid a cold, wet cloth on the back of his neck, and then enveloped him in a hug.

Dean pulled his brother close and let him sob into his chest, one arm protectively around his baby brother's back, and the other hiding Sam's head under his chin, his fingers tangling in the long hair. He lent all the strength he had to his brother, and struggled to keep his own tears at bay. Sam needed Dean to be strong for him right now, and God damn it, that's what he was going to do.

Neither Winchester knew how long they stayed like that, Dean muttering to his brother that it was going to be all right now; that he was sorry for everything; that he would help Sam now. Sam wanted to reassure Dean that he was going to be okay now, but all he could do was continue to cry and lie safely in his brother's embrace. He started to realize exactly what he had almost done, and fear started to cause him to shake. He didn't feel the blanket pulled up over his shoulders, didn't notice that Dean was still talking to him, he just kept sobbing until he finally passed out.

Dean, though, felt his brother begin to shake terribly, and then felt when everything seemed to even out. He could tell that Sam was finally asleep and eased himself out from his brother, tucking Sam in like he had done so many times when they were younger. He went for the first aid kit in the car, taking the gun with him and stowing it in the trunk.

Back in the room, Dean doused the graze in peroxide and wiped up the excess blood. The wound wasn't deep, and had stopped bleeding some time before Sam's breakdown, so Dean left it open. He screwed the cap back on the bottle and threw it back in the bag, pulling a chair up to the side of the bed Sam was sleeping on and sat down to watch his brother. Nothing was going to disturb Sam tonight.

Sometime during the night, Dean had taken Sam's hand in his, making sure that his brother had physical contact if he awoke, to assure his younger brother that Dean was still there, and that nothing could tear them apart as long as they were both all right. He knew that somewhere down the road, they were going to have to have a major chick flick moment, but Dean could also feel that, for now, Sam would be all right, and that things would be able to return to 'normal' for them. He scoffed at using the word, but he knew that things were going to have to be a bit more 'normal' for them if Sam was going to beat this and be able to go back to hunting without being afraid of what it was going to lead to.

Dean finished reading his brother's journal sometime in the early morning, and was pleasantly surprised to see that as the entries during their hunts had progressed, Sam had only once expressed a need to leave the hunt again. Maybe he would be able to fall into this lifestyle and actually learn to like it; although, Dean wasn't sure if he wanted to see the day that Sam had accepted that fate. For on that day, he was sure that the brother that he loved would cease to exist. It was the last thing Dean wanted.

Sam woke later that morning with a pounding headache, but the knowledge that his brother didn't hate him, that he, himself, hadn't killed Dean in any sense of the word, and that they were both going to be okay. It was going to take some time before things were back the way they were, and he and Dean had some more conversations that had to take place, but he knew that for both of their sakes; they had to take that slowly. Despite how often Dean made fun of Sam's sensitivity, neither Winchester could take too many chick flick moments at one time.

He smiled and sent Dean off to bed, knowing that his brother hadn't gotten any sleep the night before. He watched as Dean flopped into his own bed, stretching out his back and pulling the tee-shirt off slowly. Sam saw how quickly his brother fell asleep and was content to lie on the bed, with three pillows piled under his head.

He wasn't sure how long he had stared up at the ceiling, contemplating what he had almost done and how he would never allow himself to be that selfish again when Dean's cell phone rang.

"Dean…" Sam sighed when his brother didn't even move. He picked up the phone to answer it. Seconds later he was shooting up in the bed.

"Dad?"

The End.
So that's it. I promise I'm still working on Blindsided, and you'll know when I update that what's going on with the Winchester's in 1990 - probably sometime tomorrow or Friday...lol...until then, feel free to check out my other stories and leave lots of reviews!