Title: Chipping Away

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

Summary: Dean's still having a bad day and it's becoming a worse night..

A/N: I didn't like the last chapter particularly but I needed a bridge so I built one. Sometimes I have angst writing angst. This story actually has a point. Eventually. I'm posting this chapter because I have work to do and if I don't I'll just keep writing.

Sam started at the sound of a cough behind him. Dean stood in the doorway, clad in a skimpy towel. He wasn't shivering anymore but his eyes looked glassy and his face was now flushed.

"I, uh…thought you were gonna bring me some clothes." He coughed against his fist, wincing, and cleared his throat. His voice was getting hoarse and there was a dull ache in his chest.

"Oh, sorry," Sam said, grabbing a pair of boxers from the pile and a pair of socks rolled into a ball. Dean preferred to mate his socks that way because in younger days it made a better weapon to attack Sam with and had just become a habit. And it still occasionally made a good weapon. "Here." He handed the bundle to Dean as he came slowly into the room and moved the rest of Dean's clothes off the bed, jerking down the blankets.

Dean dropped the towel and pulled on the boxers. Sam ignored Dean's nakedness, they spent to much together time in cramped quarters and helping to repair each others injured bodies to indulge in false modesty. Dean pulled the sweatpants on with a visible effort and sat down on the side of the bed picking up the t-shirt.

"Dean, you look like crap," Sam stated flatly watching Dean rubbing his eyes. "If you were sick why didn't you say so when you got home?" What a stupid question, Sam thought, you know why.

Dean squinted up at Sam sideways as he pulled the t-shirt over his head. "It's not a big deal, Sam." He said. "Besides, you and Dad were busy when I got home. Didn't seem like the time t's the flu or something, everyone at work's got it. No big deal."

Sam made a frustrated noise. "It is a big deal, Dean!" he spat. "You standing outside in the freezing rain for an hour because you'd rather do that than listen to us fighting again is a big deal. You're hurting yourself because of us…."

Dean made a face and rolled his eyes. Now that he wasn't freezing to death, he was so not in the mood for Sam's game of "how do you feel about that." Sam had caught him off guard in a bad moment outside and he'd shot his mouth off.

"Dude, I could really use some aspirin," he said, as much to distract Sam as to ease his eyes from wanting to blow out of their sockets. "There wasn't any in the bathroom." He pressed his fingertips between his eyebrows.

Sam nodded, "I'll get some for you, how many?"

Dean held up six fingers. Sam made a face then but went into the kitchen.

Dean leaned over to put on his socks and was fascinated and repelled to discover the floor was suddenly undulating. He sat back slowly, eyes closed, stomach rolling and braced his hands on either side of his legs, waiting for the movement to stop.

"Whoa……" He shook his head. Christ, it was hot in here all of a sudden. Where the hell was Sam with the damned aspirin?

"Here." Sam's voice jerked him upright and his eyes snapped open to see four tablets in the palm of Sam's hand. Dean had actually wanted four but if he had asked for four Sam would have brought three, requesting six was guaranteeing four. They normally bought coated pills so that they could be easily dry swallowed but Dean was grateful for the water Sam offered him, swallowing the pills all at once in a quick gulp. He started coughing again, holding his hand against his chest.

Sam watched him frowning. "Dean, are you sure you're ok? You really sound bad"

Dean took another sip of water and shot Sam a dirty look. "I'll be fine, back off." Clearly the door of opportunity was closing. Dean set the glass on the table harder than necessary and pushed himself back up into the bed, propping a pillow up behind him for his aching head. Sitting up made it easier to breathe. He dug his hands into his eyes.

"Cut the lights will you?" He heard Sam flip the wall switch and even through his hands the relief was immense. A soft glow lit the room as Sam hit the switch on the small bed table lamp.

He felt the blankets being pulled over his legs.

"Better?" Sam asked softly. Dean nodded and then regretted it as his brain started short circuiting again. He felt the side of the bed sink as Sam settled onto it. Without thought, Dean shifted his legs to make room. He waited in silence for what was coming.

"Dean…." Sam began, his eyes and face were shadowed in the dim light and he wished Dean would look at him. "I'm sorry. What I said outside…I was way outta line, I didn't mean it…" Sam couldn't tell if Dean laughed in response or was fighting a cough.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, lowering his hands but keeping his eyes closed. "Yeah, I know," he said. "You never mean it…" He sighed and opened his eyes to gaze at Sam.

Sam frowned, stung. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dean forced himself to sit up and narrowed his eyes. If he hadn't felt so bad he would never have said it, but son of a bitch, he was so freakin' tired… "It means don't shoot me and then say you didn't mean it." He barked. "You took the shot, Sam. On some level you meant it or you wouldn't have said it…" Dean looked around helplessly, hands held to his head. "Night after night I sit there and listen to you and Dad scream at each other, knowing there's nothing I can do to fix this. I'm part of what you want to walk away from so badly, how the hell do you think that makes me feel? Why does is surprise you so much that I finally can't take it anymore. Hell, most of the time you and Dad are so busy eating each other alive you never even know I'm gone."

His voice dropped and he cocked his head at Sam. "Sam, you always say you don't mean it when you know you've gone too far. Well, what you said to me out there went way the fucking hell to far and you know it!" Dean voice rasped angrily, the air felt too thick to breathe. His eyes flicked away and he sat back, scratching his hand through his still wet hair. "It doesn't matter. Forget it. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Sam stared at him. "Dean, I…I can't forget it, I can't just leave it like this. I was wrong, what I said was….Jesus, it was unforgivable, I don't even know why I said it. I was mad at Dad, I couldn't find you. Dean you've always been there for me, I know that. You've practically raised me by yourself and I am so god damned sorry for what I said." My God, he thought, how could he make this better. He had cut out Dean's heart and spit on it.

"Dad and I do put you in the middle, you're right, and it's not fair to you. I just never thought about it…..you at least listen to me, you try to understand, but Dad just shuts me out and the next thing I know we're yelling again." Over Dean, through Dean and at Dean, unintentionally or not. Sam's voice thickened. "I don't mean for it to happen…" Fuck, there were those words again, he thought.

Dean was watching him, he coughed again. "Well, you know what Sammy," he said softly, "maybe Dad doesn't mean for it to happen either. You guys are always so busy yelling neither one of you hears what the other is saying. I hear it Sam, but I don't have any answers for you." He grimaced and rubbed his hand over his chest, shifting again. The anger was leaving him but nothing was replacing it. "Sam, I want you to be happy, but why does you being happy mean everybody else has to unhappy?"

Sam sniffed and swiped at his eyes. "I dunno." He looked at Dean from under his bangs. "Christ, Dean. I am so sorry. I'm sorry you're sick, I'm sorry for what I said, I'm sorry what we're doing is driving you to this…"

Dean sighed again. The aspirin he had taken and his stomach were not getting along and he was feeling a little nauseated. "I know you are Sammy, I know. It's ok….really." He added at Sam's look.

Sam brightened perceptibly. "Listen,uh…. I know dinner was a bust. Do you want something to eat? I think there's some mushroom soup."

Dean shook his head. "I'm kinda not really hungry," he replied. He started coughing again, leaning forward. The coughs were congested sounding and made his lungs burn. He kicked at the blankets to get them off his legs, it was to fucking hot in here……

Getting there…getting there, review please, please I NEED A FIX……..