Disclaimer : Yeah, still the same sick twisted stuff. Probably some language and some not so fun times.

A/N: So, this took a while longer than usual. I'm not sure why. You guys have been really great about reviewing, and nudging me back to this story when I got off track with that other little piece I did. Hah! And come on... you all know I can't let these boys off easy, right?

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"Oh, I really should have killed that bastard," Dean muttered as he took in the sight of his car.

"What now?" Sam asked, his eyes darting to the front door of the peaceful looking house.

"Two things I never thought we'd do," Dean said, a grimace twisting his face.

"What?" Sam asked, turning away from the car.

"We leave the car, and we get the cops."

Earl and Betty were not ghosts or demons; they would not disappear if they were killed. Besides, he didn't really think he had it in him to off two elderly townies. The only thing he could think of was to get to town, get the cops, and get them back here before Earl and Betty had time to cover their tracks. It would be hard enough to convince the townsfolk that two of their finest citizens were hiding something this big. Their collective injuries would help; so would seeing the basement torture chamber.

Problem was, Earl and Betty probably realized that, too. Which meant they would be in a hurry to clean up their messes and catch the witnesses that threatened to blow their operation.

"Let's go," Sam nodded, starting off towards the road.

Dean grabbed his arm. "No."

"What?" Sam looked back.

"Too easy," Dean said quickly. "They'd catch us."

"Well then - " Sam started to ask.

"Woods," Dean filled in.

Sam groaned. "Dean, you can barely stand. How do you propose we do that?"

"Stick near the road, far enough away we won't be seen," Dean said, eyes going to the front door. "And I suggest we hurry."

Sam followed his gaze to the front door.

Without another word, Dean started for the woods, his pace little more than a walk, knowing his brother was watching his every move.

"Sam, go," he hissed at a whisper.

Sam gave the front door one last look before he took jogged to catch up to his brother, one arm wrapped around his chest. He easily caught up with Dean, and slowed his pace to match his brothers.

"Are you okay for this?" he asked, watching his brother's awkward stumbling jog.

Dean was sweating from the effort it took to move, his teeth clenched, and his eyes narrowed, focused on the line of trees just ahead.

Wordlessly, Sam reached an arm out to help him.

Dean glared and slapped the hand away.

"I'm fine," he said in a low voice, realizing how ridiculous it was.

He was not okay. Neither of them were.

He had no idea how he managed to stay upright as they trudged through the snow, dodging bare branches and trying to keep to the road.

His back was some combination of fire and ice, shooting pain he could feel coupling with a growing numbness. His legs were rubbery and it hurt to even open his mouth. Adrenaline fueled him now, but it would wear off sooner rather than later, and then, he had no idea. With no way to gauge how far it was to town, he had to face the possibility that he might not make it that far.

And then what?

---

Sam's ribs ached with every jarring impact of his feet on the ground. They protested as he slid in the snow and had to catch a branch to keep his balance. His body ached, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into a soft bed with painkillers dancing their way through his veins and sleep for days.

Instead, he shivered as a gust of wind kicked snow into his face, and followed close behind his brother, which wasn't hard considering the pace Dean set.

His eyes drilled holes in the back of Dean's neck, waiting for him to accept his help. It was horrible watching him stumble along, sucking in breaths when the pain hit him especially bad.

And if he hurt this much, he couldn't begin to imagine how his brother must feel.

All he knew for sure was they needed to get to town, and they needed to get there fast. They were out of trouble for the me meantime, but he dared let a sigh of relief pass his lips until the cops were leading the Davis's away in handcuffs. He had to admit he was amazed Dean had even suggested bringing the authorities into it. He knew Dean was no monster, but he couldn't help feeling there would be some justification in their -

He shook his head, refusing to let those kind of thoughts cross his mind.

Nothing warranted taking the life of another human being. Not ever.

He was rescued from those thoughts when Dean let out a runt of surprise, his foot catching on a root.

Sam reached forward, just missing Dean's sweatshirt, helpless to watch as his brother thrust out his hands, awkwardly catching himself on his hands and knees.

Kneeling beside him, Sam placed a hand on his knee, imploring Dean to look at him.

Dean's eyes were tired and bloodshot when they met his own.

"Come on," Sam said, standing stiffly and holding out a hand.

"I can do it," Dean muttered, pushing himself up slowly.

"Dammit, Dean!" Sam cried. "Why is it so hard for you to accept help? You're hurt!"

Dean looked at him but said nothing, brushing half-heartedly at the wet knees of his jeans with a hand.

"I don't need help," Dean said roughly. "I can fucking walk on my own, Sam."

To prove his point, he took another staggering step forward.

Sam shook his head.

"Dean, you can barely stand," he said, trying to keep his voice soft.

Just in case.

Dean didn't even turn around.

"Dean!" Sam called, more insistently this time.

And still, nothing.

Angry at being ignored, Sam reached out and grabbed his brother's arm, spinning him around.

Letting out a gasp at the sudden touch, Dean parried the attack by grabbing Sam's wrist and twisting it so that Sam now faced the opposite direction.

The hand on his wrist was like steel, and the sudden movement was too much; Sam couldn't bite back the cry.

No sooner had the sound left his lip, Dean let go, shoving Sam slightly.

He spun around angrily, but his face fell when he saw his brother's ashen face, staring at him with what Sam could only call sorrow.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, backing up a step. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

His brother's voice sounded so small, so pathetic and so unlike Dean, that Sam wanted to shake him and demand his real brother to show himself.

Sam took a step closer, which only prompted Dean to take another step back.

"Dean," Sam reached out his hand.

"I can't, Sam!" Dean cried suddenly.

"Can't what?" Sam asked, lost.

"I can't," Dean stressed.

Sam shook his head, not understanding.

"I have to rely on myself, Sam," Dean said. "I have to - I have to watch out for you. We can't trust anyone. We can't depend on anyone but Dad, and now he's gone. It's just us... I have to look out for you."

The pained look on Dean's face shocked Sam.

"Did...did Dad tell you that?" Sam asked, finally.

Dean shook his head. "Forget it."

"What?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Forget it!" Dean replied forcefully.

"You want me to just forget you said that?" Sam asked, scoffing. "That Dad made me your burden?"

"You're not a burden, you're my brother!" Dean interjected. "We're all we have and we can't trust anyone else, Sam. You spend a lifetime learning not to trust people, it sort of sticks."

Sam laughed shortly.

"You said it, Dean. I'm your brother. I'm all you have right now," he sneered. "I should be the one person in the world you do trust. Not Dad, who ran out on us and doesn't even reply to our thousands of phone calls. Who sends us off on insane hunts and doesn't call to make sure we made it back alive. Me. Your brother."

Dean stood, trembling as the wind picked up again.

"I do trust you," he said softly.

"Then let me help you!" Sam cried. Then, quietly, "Please."

Dean took a few steps backward, shaking his head as he walked. He stumbled again, nearly falling backwards on a dip in the ground, but kept walking, putting distance between them.

"Sam..." he said slowly. "I don't need help."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. "You - "

He was cut off as a loud creaking noise filled the air.

He spared a look around before his eyes came back to Dean, who stood perfectly still, staring directly at Sam.

Again, the creaking noise caught Sam's attention, a distinctive cracking sound following.

Dean blinked once, eyes on his brother. "Sammy..."

The world gave out beneath them both.

Once, as Dean fell.

And then, as Sam watched him disappear into the gaping hole that had formed in the ground.

A splash, and then the call of a crow high overhead.

Silence.