CHAPTER FIVE:

Samantha: wow, evil little me –innocent face-

Deana: you try so hard and it just doesn't work for me...

Samantha: shut up Dean, you've seen me in tears, seen me swaying, seen me hiding from horror movies, you're not going to think I'm evil -smiles at audience but they might

Deana: rolls eyes ok then...maybe they should review...

Samantha: that would be good -nods-

Deana: so, let them read it Sammy...

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"Sammy! Sammy, I'm so sorry. I never meant to...Just a burden...SAMMY!" Dean shot upright into more darkness and clung to the sheets, which were his only connection to the real world.

"Sammy? SAM?" his voice quavered and he felt the warmth of tears on his cheeks. He tried to think what had happened.

Ouch, painful, bad idea. Instead he directed his attention into discerning anything from the rapidly becoming claustrophobic darkness.

"Sam?" his voice was barely a whisper in the complete enfolding darkness. But he knew his brother was not there, if he were he would have been at Dean's side the moment he cried out.

Dean reflexively shut his eyes as the light came on. Shielding the delicate irises with one arm he peered at the figure in the doorway,

"Dad?"

His father was at his side in an instant, helping him lie back down. But even as Dean gave in to the strong hands he shivered. This was wrong, this was Sammy's job, it was always Sam who was there, whether Dean was sick, asleep or hurt, it was always Sam who made it all better, who told him it would be ok.

"Take it easy son." John's rough voice broke into Dean's train of thought.

"Dad?" Dean said again, "Where's Sam?"

"Dean..." John began in a conciliatory tone of voice, but his eighteen-year-old son cut him off.

"Don't bother with the 'it's going to be alright son' crap you were never very good at it any way." Dean shook his head disparagingly, almost as if scolding his father for this lack "I want to know why Sam isn't here and where the hell he is." Dean realised a little belatedly that his questions meant almost the same thing and that he had just scolded his father. He shrunk back into his sheets,

"Sir." he added, hoping it would undo some of the damage his harsh words and harsher tone had done.

John sighed, he hated seeing the scared look in either of his son's eyes but angering a hero was a hard thing.

"He's all right Dean, and as soon as you're better from your little escapade," John said, staring meaningfully at Dean's bandaged and bloody wrists "we can go find him." he finished, carefully patting his pocket.

Dean stared curiously but decided to push his luck in this game of tag with his fathers temper no further. Instead he lay back on the mattress, assuming that if John said Sammy was safe that he had just gone to stay with friends to cool off for a few days.

In his exhausted rest Dean never noticed the way his father looked carefully at him, or the steady flashing light of the small metallic in his hands.

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Samantha: that's all folks

Deana: great...Sammy worked hard on this so review

Samantha: Dean works hard too, review for her as well, and, just in case u didn't find this after reading my fight not yours, you should go read it, it's brilliant

Deana: well duh, I wrote it...review!