Actions speak louder

Chapter 13

By teal-lover

Summary: Sam meant what he said the asylum. So how can he ever convince the one person in his life that knows him better than anyone, otherwise?

Rating: PG13, T

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural in any way shape or form, and I don't get any money for this, this is purely entertainment…hopefully:)

AN: For Dreema Azaleia Wingblade, Angel Baby1, Kaewi, rozzy07, Tyranusfan, SammyJaredfan, Master Li, and Nathy1000000--I hope this impending 'chick flick' moment is what you were looking for ;)

I'm still getting through my replies to all of the lovely reviews, so please be patient with me—I've been typing my little fingers off:)

Thank you to everyone for reading. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

OoOOoOOoOOoOOoOOoOOoO

When the three arrived at the airport, Missouri turned her head to the driver's side. "Dean, I'm not exactly a spring chicken any more. Why don't you help me inside?"

Dean understood the pointed look she gave him indicating that she wanted to speak to him privately. "Sam, get up front and make sure I don't get a ticket. I'll be right back."

Taking her elbow, he helped her inside speaking quickly, "Talk fast before Sam gets suspicious."

She nodded and spoke firmly, "Dean, I was serious. I expect to see you there tonight, and no arguing. Your father's orders." Just as he turned to leave, she grabbed his arm and lowered her voice softly. "And another thing, just hear him out, sweetie. I know you're still hurt by what happened a few weeks ago, but I guarantee if you do, a lot of that pain will go away."

He nodded wordlessly before hurrying back out to the car. Hopping in quickly, Dean noted that Sam had made his way to the front seat and now stared out the window nervously.

They had driven for only about 20 minutes when Dean finally had enough of Sam shooting worrisome glances in his direction, only to look away whenever he turned, all the while fiddling with his hands in his lap. He pulled the car into the next rest stop, throwing the car in park with a sharp jerk. "Alright, stop it, right now!"

Green eyes stared back at him with wide-eyed innocence, his head cocking in confusion. "Stop what?"

Dean huffed in irritation. He knew this wasn't the way to begin the conversation, but he couldn't help but feel like he was being ambushed by that innocent looking face that always made him cave—before he ever got a chance to speak his mind. "Stop looking at me like a little kid that's about to get a beating for painting the walls with magic marker!"

"I'm not," Sam started to protest before lowering his head again. "I'm sorry."

Dean rolled his eyes. Ok, this was worse. Now he looked like a nervous puppy that had just been scolded for going outside of the box. "And stop with the 'I'm sorry'. I don't even know what it is that you're apologizing for anymore." Ok, Maybe, he thought, just maybe he could get out of this impending chick flick moment with some of his dignity in tact if he drew it out of Sam. Let him do most of the talking.

"Ok Sam, fine. So what are you sorry for? Trying to kill me or trying to save me, because I can't figure you out."

"I'm not sorry for saving your life Dean. I saw it. You would have died if I hadn't pushed you out of the way."

Dean shrugged carelessly, as if he was talking about nothing more than their usual arguments of what to eat for dinner. "I'm not really sure how that makes much of a difference. It hadn't even been two weeks since you tried to shoot me yourself." He laughed, but the sound was devoid of any actual humor. "I mean, what is it some childish sibling thing like in grade school—I can pick on my brother, but I'll wipe the floor with you if you try it. I can shoot my brother, but you can't?"

"No! It's not like that, I didn't mean it!"

"Oh, so what, it was an accident? You didn't mean to pull the trigger 4 freakin' times? Man, Sam—that's kind of scary. I'd really hate to be on the business end of your gun when you do it on purpose."

Sam felt the tears begin to prickle in his eyes and he struggled to find the words to explain it. The frustration was building in his chest and he felt the obligatory pain and difficulty breathing. He knew he was on the verge of hyperventilating if he didn't get it under control. Dean's sure not going to make this easy. But then he did. Sam turned in his seat as he felt the gentle strokes on his back soothing him into calmness. Chancing a quick glance at the older man, Sam noted the tight set of Dean's jaw that showed his residual anger. But the wide, expressive eyes showed the concern in those hazel depths. I can do this, he suddenly thought. But he never wanted to do this; to have this conversation. 'Damn that Ellicott Bastard!'

"You can say that again."

Sam whipped his head around to question that, but Dean answered before he spoke. "No, I didn't read your mind Sam. You said that out loud."

"Oh."

"Just answer me this, Sammy. He may have let them out, but they were still your thoughts, right?"

Sam lowered his head and blushed in embarrassment. He couldn't deny it, but maybe he could explain it. "Yes. I've thought them. But only for like—a second. A fleeting thought that he just dug out and hung on to as if I spend a lot of time thinking about it."

Dean turned and stared out of the window, suddenly unable to look at his brother anymore. The anger had faded, leaving only the hurt and betrayal. "I can't believe you thought them at all. I mean, yeah—I know it pisses you off that I follow dad's orders, and I really don't care, so that doesn't bother me. But do you know what does? Suppose I had given you a loaded gun? Sure, I've said I'd love to get my fingers around that long ostrich neck of yours—but I never meant it seriously. I don't get how you could."

"Because I'm not as strong as you, Dean. Do you remember when I was thirteen, you had just turned seventeen, and Dad took us out to hunt that werewolf?"

"Wyoming, yeah."

"You remembered when you got sacked when it doubled back on us and you hit your head on that log?"

Dean laughed, "Not really, especially since I got knocked out. I do remember waking up with a few less brain cells though. And a couple of added gills that I didn't need when I guess it took a swipe at me."

Sam ignored his idea of a joke and pressed on, fearing that if he didn't, he'd never get it out. "Well that was the first time I ever thought it. I didn't even care that that werewolf was human part of the time when I pulled the trigger. But it was the first time I ever thought about you dying, Dean. When I saw you laying there with so much blood—not moving—I thought you were dead. All I knew was that I wanted to follow you."

Green eyes locked with hazel, "I had one shell left."

"Sam, don't tell me—"

"…And I would have used it too. So the next couple of times it happened, yes, in a fleeting thought—I thought of denying some evil bastard the chance of ripping you to pieces. Two brothers, two bullets. And I'd never have to worry about burying my brother."

Of all the things Dean thought it could be, that certainly hadn't even crossed his mind. He didn't know what to say to that, so he went with his usual method of making light of things. "Wow. Do I need to be afraid to share a motel room with you from now on?"

"No jerk. I said it was only a passing thought. Barring possession, I could never purposely hurt you. Besides, I know how that would destroy Dad. And as much as he pisses me off, I wouldn't do that to him."

"So when you took that bullet for me?"

"All I could see was the doctor telling me that they had done all they could for you. I'm sorry, Dean. But I just couldn't go through that."

Dean felt himself getting angry all over again. "You selfish little prick! And you think it was ok for you to do that to me? Make me bury you?"

"Because I thought you could handle it. You've always been the strong one Dean. You'd get pissed, get over it, and then go shoot something."

Dean was shocked at the thought. He stormed out of the car to calm down, forcing Sam to follow. "What kind of heartless bastard do you take me for, Sam? What, do you seriously think I walk around like a machine never caring about anybody or anything? Is that what you think of me? That's one of the reason's you shot me, isn't? You just wanted to see if I could feel anything?"

"NO! Dean, of course not. That's not what I meant. I know you're not like that. You wouldn't have spent so many years of your life taking care of me, if you were. I've never thought that. But you don't need me, Dean. You've proven it already, for years when I went to college. You can do this alone, if you have to—but me? I can't."

Dean shook his head sadly. He finally began to understand Sam's warped way of thinking. "Neither can I, Sam. Not since I was four. You think I've stuck around this long, hunting, risking my life, saving your ass—all out of some misguided sense of duty to dad?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted softly. "Sometimes."

"I hunt because I care, Sammy. About life, people in general, family. That's what keeps me going." Dean stared into his brother's moss green eyes, willing him to understand through the intensity of his gaze alone. "The ONLY thing, Sam. You take that away, you take away the reason." He poked him lightly on the shoulder. "And I swear if you repeat any of this to anyone, I will hunt you down, tie you to the hood of the Impala, then crash through a house."

Sam quirked his lips up into a sly smile. "Family, huh?"

"Yeah."

"And I'm your family…"

"Yeah, well, you can't pick your family."

"If you could, would you have picked me?"

Dean scoffed at his brother, his slow spreading grin showing that he was teasing. "You? Never. I would have picked a shorter brother. One that had more of the Winchester charm. And one not so girlie, either—making us have all of these chick flick moments…"

"Please. No one has ever made Dean Winchester do something he didn't want to do."

"Exactly."

"Except for Missouri."

Dean shivered then laughed at the thought of the woman. "Yeah, except for her. You know, of all the monsters and demons we've faced over the years, that chick is still the scariest thing I've ever come across."

"I'll tell her you said that," Sam threatened as they started back for the Impala.

"Liar. You'll probably think it just so you don't have to take the blame when she lays me out."

"That's a distinct possibility," Sam agreed.

Dean punched his arm lightly and rolled his eyes. "Traitor. You're just lucky she likes you. Remember her last threat," he did his best impression of the psychic, high pitched voice with his hands on his hips, "boy, I'll wack you with a spoon!"

Sam laughed heartily, coughing loudly as he did so. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts too much."

"Serves you right. Maybe that will teach you not to jump in front of bullets."

TBC…