Title: Chipping Away

Summary: Dean's still having a bad day.

AN: OK here's some more, I can't tell you how jacked up I get reading the reviews, and see how many people are reading my stuff. I've been trying to reply to them all as much as I can. I know Dean seems a little sensitive in this but, yeah, he's sick and also, sometimes you just can't take it anymore. And I know Sam is a little headstrong in this chapter but remember he's pissed off. Love all of you, you're flaming great!

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wanta own 'em, but willing to settle for sharing.

Sam pushed Dean through the door into the relative warmth of the house. Dean stopped when Sam stopped pushing. Sam stripped off his own jacket and tossed it on the broken down couch.

"Come on…" Sam said, grabbing Dean's arm again and dragging him down the hall to the tiny bathroom. The bathroom had a small old fashioned gas heater. Sam pushed Dean down on the closed toilet. "Get those wet clothes off!" he ordered. He crouched down and turned on the gas, lighting the flame with a match from his pocket. He turned it up all the way and then faced Dean again.

"Are you outta your friggin' mind? Look at you!" He demanded, kicking the door shut as Dean struggled to get the wet t-shirt off. He was shivering so much his breath was jerking in and out. Sam reached into the shower and turned the hot water on. When he turned back Dean was trying to toe off the wet sneakers but was watching Sam through half closed eyes. Little slits of glittering green.

"What?" Sam snapped. "You want me to apologize for you being to damn dumb to come in out of the rain?" He threw a towel at Dean. "The water's hot, get in the shower. I'll get some dry clothes for you. Yell if you want something." He slammed out the door.

Dean controlled his hands enough to get his jeans undone and shoved them down, stepping out of them. He really didn't know what Sam wanted him to say. Whatever Dean might have to say wasn't going to make Sam feel any better, which would certainly make Dean feel worse. Dean fumbled in the cabinet but couldn't find any aspirin, although he did manage to knock several items into the sink with his shaking hands. "Shit….." he grumbled. He dragged off the rest of his wet clothes and stepped into the steamy shower swearing at the burn as the hot water hit his icy skin.

Sam stalked down the hall into the small bedroom he shared with Dean and started digging through the pile of clothes on Dean's bed. They didn't have a lot of clothes but Dean always managed to pile his stuff in a way that made it seem like he did. Putting them away was not a concept Dean was ready to embrace.

Sam attacked the pile like it was personal enemy, searching through it for some sweat pants and a shirt. Inside he was seething at what Dean had spouted at him.

You want me to takes sides, Sammy? Whose!

Sam suddenly stopped rummaging, was that what he and dad had been asking Dean to do? He and Dean had talked a lot… well, he talked and Dean had appeared to listen anyway, Dean knew how much Sam wanted to see what life outside of the black hole nightmare they lived in could be like. Sometimes, even Dean didn't really get it, he seemed to understand what Sam was saying, at least he was trying. Sam saw Dean as a tragic victim of circumstances beyond his control. Scarred by the horrible loss of their mother, losing his innocence and his childhood in one fell swoop. Dean had accepted his new role as soldier and protector and become exactly what he needed to be to survive in the graphically frightening life their father had carved out for them. His mind and body had thrived on it, but it seemed sometimes to Sam, that Dean's soul was lost somewhere in the maze that Dean had constructed brick by brick to save himself from facing himself.

I am so God damn tired!

Sam was good hunter, nowhere close to Dean, who seemed to have a natural ability for things violent, but pretty damn good nonetheless. But he did it because he had no choice. Choice was something he'd never been allowed to have. He had changed schools repeatedly because he'd had to, never created much in the way of lasting friendships because what was the point because he'd had to. He'd moved from one dump to another, squatted in warehouses and slept in the car because he'd had to, gone hungry, seen Dean and his father injured, broken and bleeding and sewn them back together because he'd had to. Why was it so wrong to want something different, something you didn't have to do, something that would make a real difference in your life, that would give you a life. How could he make his father and Dean…

Dean….Sam closed his eyes.

At least one of your fucking soldiers turned out right!

Dean, who willingly protected Sam with his own body if he had to, went hungry so younger Sam would have something to eat, lied, stole and hustled so they would have someplace to sleep. Had comforted Sam when he was afraid, teased him, fought and infuriated Sam into the man he was becoming. Had always been there, without question. Had stepped between Sam and their Dad more than once during their increasingly frequent shouting matches. Until Sam had shoved him back and told him to stay out of it and then called him on it when he did.

You always manage to disappear when I need you to show me some support!

"Jesus…" Sam whispered.

Sorry this is so short, It's midnight and I have only the vaguest idea of where I'm going with this. Hopefully, it makes some sense. Another chapter tomorrow, I promise, It wasn't supposed to turn into a multi chapter but it has me solidly by the throat and it won't let go………Dean will be getting out of the shower. review please