A:N: Okay people… I'm not happy. Over 300 hits and only 7 reviews? Does that mean 293 of you hated this? I need feedback… I can't just write blind! This is my first SN fic I have noooo clue what I'm doing!

Unforgiven

"Sammy… talk to me."

Dean watched his younger brother, his eyes wide with panic and worry. He'd shot the shapeshifter twice in the heart, ignoring the strangeness of seeing 'himself' die and had then proceeded to half carry half drag his beaten brother into the car. They'd said their goodbyes to Becky, Sam with a painful croak to his voice - evidence of his crushed throat - and neither had spoken a word as they drove into the night.

He'd felt the brunette's confusion when he pulled into the car park of the first motel they happened upon. "You need to rest." He offered in explanation, adding, "In a bed, not a car."

"Not even if the car's a classic piece of American engineering genius?" Sam quipped lightly, worried slightly when his brother only grunted. Dean was never short on words for his beloved Chevy.

Now the tall student sat curled up tight against the headboard, one hand wrapped around his legs, the other clutching the floral bedspread. Dean sat at the foot of the bed, head turned sideways to watch his brother and both hands flat against his thighs in an unfamiliar attempt to seem non-threatening. He wasn't used to treating his brother like a skittish woodland animal. This wasn't frigging Snow White, or Bambi, or whatever.

At first Sam has sat cross legged in the middle of the bed, pained by his injuries but trusting of his surroundings. It was Dean. The real Dean… and Dean would never hurt him. "Sammy..." It was Dean, but the insecurity in his eyes and the slight tremble to his voice was incongruous to Sam's Dean. "Did… Did dad ever… hurt you?" His low voice was strangled by pain.

The brunette's face had frozen, no one emotion dominant. When he felt his brother reach for his shoulder, he snatched his arm away, ignoring the stab of pain in his tired muscles. He backed up to the wall, bringing his long legs up to his chest in an action of self-protection which felt like a punch in the gut to his brother. "Sammy… talk to me."

"I… Wha… What the hell are you talking about Dean?" He finally seemed to find his voice, ignorant to how painful the rasp sounded. "And it's Sam."

Dean shuffled further up the bed, two sets of wide eyes locked on each other. "The shifter said-"

"You listen to demons now?" Sam demanded angrily. His eyes betrayed his fear.

"It said there were things I didn't know about you. It showed me you hurt when we were kids."

"It was lying Dean! Of course I was hurt when we were younger – we hunted demons just like it! You know there were bruises and scrapes."

"Shifters don't lie Sam." Dean's voice rose now to match his siblings. "They download your memories, your secrets. Its no secret to me that you got hurt hunting. Jesus! It was my worst nightmare come true every time some thing gave you a bruise, or a scratch or whatever." He paused for breath. "Don't lie to me."

"What did it say?" The brunette whispered softly.

"It said I didn't see… Didn't hear…That you needed me and I wasn't there for you."

"That all?" He asked, tone and eyes blank. He received no answer.

"Did dad hurt you?"

"Do you care?" Sam spat bitterly.

He was unprepared for his brother's hands as they suddenly grasped his shoulders and began to shake him. "Of course I care! Don't be such a brat!" The elder was equally motivated by both anger and fear. Anger that his brother was trying to misdirect him and fear as to why he would try to…

The tears spilled suddenly as Sam wrestled out of his brother's grip. Successful at last, he wrenched himself free, only to begin sobbing violently. He had no energy left to fight off the familiar arms as they gathered him into a strong, warm chest. "Oh God, Dean… God!" He felt the arms tighter and was vaguely aware of the blond shaking with his own tears.

Sdsdsdsd

Even shorter than before but that's your own faults! Review! Are they in character or waaaaay off? Help me!