A/N: To answer some people's question...yes, I am showing Dean's soft side. Most people stress Sam's issues. I love angst stories from both their perspectives, just decided to write it from Dean's this time. And yes, high school is horrible.

I sat staring at Dean's sleeping body.His poor chest, moving slowly up and down. I felt like shit. Just a few hours ago I had thought many horrible names to call my brother. I believed him to be the scum of the Earth. When really, if I'd thought about it, he was protecting me.

All those years he lied to me to make sure I didn't worry. He wanted me to think he was happy. That he had at least one part of his life he truly enjoyed.

And the sad thing was, I believed him. I was so wrapped up in my own life, of getting away from him and my father I hadn't even thought about having a true talk with him about his life. I guess I was just content that he took me under his wing and helped me. I was so ungrateful.

I felt something hot roll down the right side of my cheek. Then another. Slowly they fell, one by one. I couldn't stop the silent tears from flowing. Growing up, whenever I heard something sounding like a sob coming from the room next to mine, I'd pretend I didn't hear it and try to go back to sleep.

But that was when we were younger. As we grew up, Dean took a room farther away from mine, and I had assumed he'd grown out of the crying phase. I never would have guessed that he cried himself to sleep, just as I had. I tried to picture Dean doing just that. Lying curled up in his comfortable bed, hugging himself, holding his old pillow, sobbing silently. And trying to make sure no one heard him. He hated for anyone to see him weak.

I couldn't bear to think about it any longer. All that mattered now was how many times Dean had woken himself up, gotten out of bed, and comforted me when he heard my cries. But never once did I bother to take the time to see if he needed my help.

Suddenly, the sleeping figure in front of me stirred. I ran my fingers over my eyes quickly. The last thing I wanted was for Dean to see me crying. Running to the bathroom, in hopes of splashing some water on my face, I heard the older man throw off the sheets and stand up, groaning.

"Sammy, what the hell are you doing?" Dean asked groggily. I noticed him rubbing his chest, wincing.

I turned around. My eyes watched his every move. He reached over the bed and opened his backpack. My breath stopped. Running through my head were all the mistakes I could have made. I forgot where, exactly, I had put the bear picture. And Dean might notice the still fresh tear stains on the journal that I couldn't help myslef from shedding.

But Dean noticed nothing. He reached into his bag, grabbed the bottle of shampoo, and re-zipped the bag. Walking over, I moved quickly out the way to the bathroom. He raised an eyebrow. "You're acting pretty weird this morning."

"Not much sleep," I answered, head down. I still could not face looking him in the eye.

"You've been acting pretty PMSy lately, what's up?"

Instinct and years of arguments led me to say, "Like you would know anything about how girls act." My eyes widened. I hadn't even realized what I had said. Practice told me to respond the way I had. I noticed with horrible certainty the sharp pain cross Dean's face, even for just a moment.

Quickly he covered it up. "Bet I know more than you, little Sammy. Remember...Britnney."

"Uhuh," I mumbled. I truely was beginning to think I was a peice of shit. I couldn't even think. My mind was spinning. I had to get out of that awful room. Dean would take a good half hour to shower; payback for yesterday, so I could borrow his car and head into down for a few minutes. Just right up the road.

It took about three minutes to pull into the small town. There was a main highway, with the usual; diners, library, a bank, some shops, a gas station. I pulled the Chevy into a parking space in front of a small diner. It was a small, wooden framed building, painted white with large windows. Inside, were about ten tables and a long booth. If you took one of the seats near the end, you could get a glimpse of the kitchen.

I chose a seat in the middle. There were not many other people. Two old men were reading the newspaper at a table in the corner. One, rather plump, was scarving down his pancakes. He oddly reminded me of Dean.

Chuckling, I turned back around to see a young waitress standing on the other side, a spiral notebook in one hand, a pencil in the other. She didn't look old enough to be working.

"Uh, hi. Can I just get a cup of coffee and a muffin, please."

The waitress wrote it down and told me it'd be right out. And she stayed true to her word. Not a minute later, she came walking towards me, her brown curls bouncing as she walked. "Here ya go, sug. anything else I can get for you?" Her southern accent was pleasent. She seemed like a cheerful girl.

As I was gulping down the hot coffee, cherishing it, I noticed the waitress staring at me. I lifted my eyes.

She smiled, flashing perfect white teeth. "I'm Anna. Are you new in town?"

"Hi, Anna. Yeah, my brother and I are passing through. Might stay a few days."

"You must have heard about the Carmell murder," Anna answered. She had taken a stool and sat down across from me.

"No, I haven't. What happened?"

The girl was excited to tell me. "Wow, I figured by now it would have spread over the county. But I'm not complaining, it's hard to find someone who hasn't heard the story a million times already."

I waited patiently. Finally she realized she had forgotten to inform me of the story and quickly jumped in.

"It happened about a week and a half ago. My highschool was having a spring dance, and just about the whole school showed up.'

I wondered how this was related to a murder, but kept my mouth shut. People in small towns liked to talk. It took awhile to get to get to the point.

"Anways, Michelle and her boyfriend of a year, Tommy, showed up. They looked like they were having a good time. After about an hour everyone sorta headed out. Most go into the woods outside the school. We sorta have a hang out place there."

I knew Anna meant more than just a hang out place. I'd been through high school, places like those have trouble written all over them.

"Well, as some people were walking out there, somebody started screaming at the top of their lungs. Two people ran ahead to see what it was. When they got to the scene they saw Tommy's body lying in some dirt, dead as a doornail. The cororner says someone beat him up pretty bad, then strangled him to death."

Despite the fact that it did not sound paranormal or anything besides a sick, twisted person, I was intrested. "So, this Tommy Carnell guy? They figure out who did it?'

"That's the problem. Nobody knows. All his friends were with people at the time, so it couldn't have been anyone at the dance."

"What about his girlfriend?"

"She was the one who screamed. She had walked away for a few seconds to make a phone call and when she came back Tommy was on the ground."

I scrunched my forehead. That was the best she could come up with, and people still believed her? I had no doubt who it was. I just did not see how no one else couldn't.

"We have her phone bill to prove it wasn't her," Anna interrupted my thoughts. She obviously saw the disbelief on my face. "Besides, Michelle was an angel. She made straight A's, had gotten early admission to some fancy college, volunteered four days a week at the pre-school down the road."

That explained it. I should have guessed. People never believed the perfect angel child could do something so hideous. Just look at Dean.

No, I forced Dean out of my head. Thinking of him would bring back last night.

But...oh God! Dean! I'd been so wrapped up in Anna's story I failed to notice the time. Forty minutes had passed by, at least. Long enough for my brother to realize I'd taken his car without his permission.

As if on que, the door to the diner swung open. Dean's boots made loud thudding noises as he rushed towards me. I pictured what he was seeing. His baby in the parking lot of some random diner. Inside, his younger brother sitting at one of the booths, deep in discussion with a pretty girl. Shit, I was in for it.

"What the hell you think you're doing Samuel!" Dean yelled. The two old men looked up. I was sure one of the men was going to spit his coffee out of his mouth. I cringed. Samuel. Why'd he have to call me by my real name. Sammy was better than Samuel.

I expected him to get in my face, scream at me, lecture me about taking his car. Wouldn't have been surprised if he had grabbed my jacket and pulled me outside. What I didn't expect was his right fist to come towards my jaw.

I stumbled backwards. My left leg hit one of the stools and sent it crashing to the floor. I followed suit, my back making contact with one of fallen stools legs. In the process my arms flung sideways, knocking a napkin dispenser and a pepper shaker over. From somewhere around me I heard Anna let out a soft scream. Dean was standing his ground. I thought for sure he was going to drop on his knees and continue punching me. The look in his eyes, so full of hatred, reassured my thoughts.

A/N: Sorry about this chapter, wasn't really into it, but i promise Chapter 5 will be awesome!