"Stop the car."

"What?!"

"Just stop the damn car Dean. Pull over!"

The Impala skidded to an abrupt halt beside an empty field, tyres barely coming to rest as Sam got out. He slammed the door behind him before Dean had even pulled the keys from the ignition and had taken several long strides away by the time the older Winchester exited the car. Dean followed after him, anger and confusion both rising at Sam's behaviour.

"What the hell?" he yelled at Sam's back. "What's wrong with you?"

Sam didn't turn straight away, instead shaking his head as he muttered under his breath, the anger he'd been trying to control since the hospital finally spilling over as he continued to put distance between himself and his brother.

"You got something to say Sam you better turn up the volume," Dean shouted again. "What's your problem?"

"My problem Dean?" Sam shouted, spinning around to finally face his brother. "My problem is you! You're a god damned liar!"

"Of for crying out…! If you're still pissed about the warding then get over it! I did what needed to be done!"

"I'm pissed about everything! About whatever it is you're mixed up in. Whatever it is you've got my family involved in!"

"I've not done anything–"

"What are you hiding Dean? Huh? What else are you keeping from me?"

"Nothing!"

"Nothing? Really? Angels Dean? God damned freaking angels?!"

"Sam–"

"Why is an angel on speed-dial for you? Is it the Apocalypse? Or is there something else going on? Jesus! As if that wasn't bad enough!"

Dean stared at him, mouth forming a grim line and eyes hardening.

"I guess some people can't keep their traps shut," he said at last, his voice cold and unforgiving.

"And demons Dean. Don't forget those. Though I would've found out about them eventually, right? What with my neighbour having been one. God! I can't believe I was so stupid. I can't believe I trusted you. You knew right from the start didn't you?"

"Knew what?"

"That Kyle and Jess' abduction was something to do with demons. That it was all somehow mixed up with your crap."

"Of course I didn't."

"First thing you asked me Dean, back at the motel, you asked if I smelled sulphur. You knew right from the start their abduction was all linked to your crap and you didn't tell me."

"I didn't know!"

"Fine! You suspected! You had an inkling. Whatever! It's like you don't trust me even though I have a right to know the truth."

"What truth?"

"Everything!"

"Oh yeah that narrows it down!"

"Fine! You need a list? How 'bout the truth of why Dad died, huh? Why not start with that?"

It hadn't been what had triggered the anger in Sam, but now that it was out, Sam realised it was something that had always been there, since the moment he'd been told about John's death, the question had burned beneath his skin like a festering blister that just wouldn't heal. The woman in his dream, Lilith, had mentioned something about John and it had only returned the irritation to the forefront of Sam mind. He could tell by his brother's face however, that John's death was possibly the last thing Dean had expected Sam to bring up right then.

"What the hell's that got to do with anything?" Dean retorted, shaking his head in confusion.

"I'm betting it's got everything to do with whatever's going on. With whatever it is you're not telling me. Besides, you're the one who keeps saying he was such a great guy. So why don't you tell me more about him Dean. Tell me how he died."

"You know maybe you should've stayed back there with your friend Stacey coz you're starting to sound like a crazy person."

"Except she's not crazy, is she? She's right on the money, just like I bet I am."

"You're not making any sense."

"Tell me the truth about how Dad died."

"Why do I get the feeling you already know?"

"I wanna hear it from you. So tell me."

"Why the hell are you bringing that up? What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?! Everything Dean! Everything in my life has felt wrong since the moment Dad died! So just tell me the god damned truth about it!"

The brother's glared at each other, neither one showing any signs of backing down, and Dean growled.

"Fine," he relented through gritted teeth. "Dad died fighting a demon that got the jump on him."

"Uh huh," Sam nodded. "That's the official party line. Now why don't you tell me what really happened?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Like hell there isn't!"

"There's nothing to tell!"

"I wanna hear it. I wanna hear you say it."

"Say what?"

"I wanna hear you tell me why he died. And I don't mean a hunt gone wrong crap. I mean the truth. I want you to tell me the real reason."

"How the Hell would I know?"

"You know Dean! I know you do. You've known since the start. I remember the way you looked at me at Dad's funeral. You think I'd forget a thing like that?"

"The way I looked at you?"

"The way you looked at me Dean, like I was responsible! Like it was my fault Dad was dead! You blamed me and you hated me because you knew it's my fault he's dead!"

The admission, now that Sam had finally released it, hung in the space between them, infesting the air, seeping into them both like nuclear fallout. What shocked Sam more however, was Dean's hesitation in refuting it.

"You blame me don't you?" Sam demanded, voice hollow with the shock of acknowledgement. "Just… Just say it."

"No." Dean replied, suddenly too quickly.

"Just admit it!" Sam persisted.

"I said no."

"Cut the crap Dean! Just for once! Just… cut the crap. I've had enough of you keeping things from me."

But Dean shook his head. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about the deal Dad made to save me. He made one, didn't he? Didn't he!? Tell me I'm wrong!"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Dean repeated.

"Then why don't you just tell me the truth?"

"There's nothing to tell!"

"Right. I can't know about your life but you can spy on mine? What're you gonna say next? Huh? You're gonna convince me you didn't know what was happening with me right before Dad died? Didn't know what I was going through, as if you didn't know why he made a deal."

"Happening with you? What you were going through? I've got no damned clue! Seeing as you decided to cut Dad and me out of your life, no! I didn't!"

"Sure."

"I didn't! I don't! Why don't you enlighten me!? What? Were you going through a mid-life crisis? Under too much stress at work? Your golf game was off? What was it Sam! Huh? What do you think was so damned bad in your perfect life that Dad would sacrifice–"

"I had Leukaemia Dean! I was dying!"

That halted Dean in his tracks, and amidst Sam's anger and rage, somewhere he realised that Dean really hadn't known.

"…What?" Dean stammered. "You had what?"

Dean's genuine confusion tempered Sam's anger and he took a shuddering breath. "Leukaemia," he repeated. "Acute lymphocytic leukaemia. Bad blood. This… this disease pumping through my veins… and I couldn't ever rip it out or scrub it clean because it had gotten too far. Because they caught it too late."

"No," Dean said, shaking his head. "That's not…" He met Sam's gaze, a haunted expression in his eyes. "That's not possible."

"No what's not possible, is that one day I suddenly get a call from my oncologist saying my latest test results all came back clear. Some kind of monumental medical misdiagnosis. What's not possible is that I get another call barely a day later telling me Dad's dead. I don't believe in coincidences Dean. And neither do you. So you tell me, you look me in the eye and you tell me Dad didn't make a deal for me."

Dean had taken a few steps away from Sam, had turned away from him, still shaking his head.

"Dean," Sam pleaded, the anger now diminished and replaced by anguish. "Tell me, please. I need to know. Did Dad sell his soul for me?"

At the hitch in his younger brother's voice, Dean turned to face him intending to abate his fears, but his eyes betrayed the truth between them before any denial could leave his lips, and Sam buckled backwards as if he'd been punched in the chest. He nodded to himself, swallowing hard several times, and breathing shakily to control his emotions, confirmation of his worst fear somehow making the pain of knowing even worse.

"You should've told me," Sam whispered finally, the accusation ringing out harshly despite the hushed tone. "You should have… You should have told me."

"…I didn't know," Dean appeased, but it flared the anger in Sam afresh.

"Don't lie to me," Sam spat.

"I'm not lying," Dean replied quickly, forcefully. "I didn't know. Not that you were dying."

"But you knew Dad made a deal."

"No."

If Dean had been shouting, Sam wouldn't have believed him. But it was his tone, bare and stripped of artifice that spoke the truth in volumes to Sam.

"You suspected then," Sam accused, not yet ready to back down despite Dean's sudden contrition. "When? When did you find out?"

"Does it matter?" Dean countered, but Sam continued to glare at him. "A while later, all right?" Dean admitted at last, sighing heavily. "A while after Dad died, I was exorcising this demon, had it in a trap and it tried bargaining for its life, spewed a tonne of crap. I didn't believe it at first but…," he shrugged. "I got another demon afterwards and it told me the same thing. Said Dad had been killed by a demon and dragged to Hell."

"Not just any demon though, right? Let's get the facts straight."

Dean eyed him warily for a moment. "I don't know why you need me to tell you anything," he commented at last. "Seems like you know more than I thought anyway."

"Just like you knew he'd made a deal for me."

"I didn't know."

"But you suspected. Right? That it had something to do with a deal."

Begrudgingly, Dean gave a slight nod. "But I… I'd never been sure. And I didn't know why."

"Does anyone else know? About the deal? About Dad being in–""

"No," Dean replied quickly. "And it's gonna stay that way."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam pressed, ignoring Dean's demand. "When you found out, why didn't you tell me?"

"What difference would it have made?"

"You should have told me Dean! I…" But he had to stop. He scoffed and grinned humourlessly, shaking his head and looking away. "You're no different than he was. You keep thinking you have a right to keep secrets from me. To keep doing things without asking me. To control my life."

"You think he told me what he was planning? You think I knew? Look, why does it even matter now?"

"It matters because it's my fault!" Sam shouted. "Do you have any idea how it's been, not knowing? Suspecting? You think I didn't have a hunch? The guilt I've been carrying around, you think it hasn't been eating away at me inside? It damn near tore Jess and me apart, coz she knew I was keeping something from her, but it's not like I could tell her. I mean how the hell do you even begin to tell someone that you suspect your dad sold his soul to cure you from leukaemia which, oh by the way, you didn't even tell anyone you had in the first place? It drove a wedge between us. It broke something in us. And this whole time you knew?" He faced Dean, bitter resentment worn openly on his face. "You should have told me."

"What good you would it have–"

"I had a right to know!"

Dean shook his head, pursing his lips. After a moment, he flicked a glance back at Sam. "Why didn't you tell me you were dying?" he asked.

"That's not the same."

"Right. Coz when you withhold information, it's because you're so high and mighty."

Sam gave him an incredulous, somewhat disgusted look.

"I didn't tell you Dean, or Dad, or Jess, or anyone that I was dying because I didn't have time. They caught it too late and I didn't have time, I wasn't ready. I wanted to get things in order before I told anyone. But what? So now you're gonna judge me for how I was planning to reveal to my family that I had less than a year to live?! How I was gonna have to tell Jess that I wouldn't be able to support her, or ever see our children grow up, or be there to protect them? How I couldn't even explain to Deanna why she'd have to grow up without a father, because she was too young to understand. You're gonna judge me for all that?"

Dean looked away from him and Sam felt the emotions churning inside as his mind raced to accept the truth about John, one he'd always secretly suspected since his death. His mouth felt dry and he had to swallow several times before he could speak again.

"So, he's rotting in Hell because of me," he'd intended it as a question, but even as he articulated the thought, he couldn't accept it as anything other than a truth anymore.

"No." It was the denial he'd expected from Dean and he instantly disbelieved it.

"Isn't that where souls end up when they make a deal?" he said bitterly. "Dragged to hell by hellhounds?"

"Yeah but…." Dean replied after a beat. "It didn't happen like that, far as I can tell. And besides, he's not there anymore. He's not in Hell. He got out."

Sam scoffed at that. "How?" he demanded, challenging.

"Why can't you just leave it alone?" Dean said, voice almost pleading. "Why can't you just accept that Dad's not in Hell and leave it at that, huh?"

"Because there's no reason why he wouldn't be! He made a deal Dean. That's what happens when you make deals."

"Trust me, OK. Just… trust me, Dad's not in Hell. Not anymore."

"Trust you? You're kidding right? You've got some hell of a nerve to expect that of me now, after everything."

"He's not in Hell. Whether you trust me or not, that's the truth."

"How? How is he not in Hell?"

"He just isn't."

"Right, real convincing. And you're so sure about that because? What? Like you just–" Sam stopped mid-sentence and blinked. "…Oh my god!" He threw his hands up and shook his head, dismay and anger twisting his features. "You made a deal didn't you?"

"What? No!"

"To get Dad out, you made a demon deal. You stupid, stupid–"

"I told you!" Dean snapped angrily, cutting him off. "I didn't make a deal."

"Just stop lying to me man."

"It's the truth!" Dean snapped. "I didn't make a deal! Believe me, I tried! But no demon would play dice."

"And you expect me to just believe that? That you, of all people, wouldn't do something as stupid as that?"

"I really don't give a rat's ass anymore what you believe Sam." Dean growled. "I told you, Dad's not in Hell. That's the truth. Now you can take that anyway you like it, I don't care. This discussion is over."

"The hell it is! Is that why you've been acting the way you have? Huh? Pushing everyone away, acting like you don't give a crap. How long d'you get Dean? What, a year? Two?"

Dean shook his head in exasperation as he turned away from him. "I'm leaving."

"Then what? What!?" Sam shouted after him. "If you didn't make a deal then what Dean? You just strolled into Hell one day and dragged him…"

Realisation slammed into Sam so hard and so fast, it stole the breath from him. He took a step back, staggering, blinking as his brain caught up with what his sub-consciousness, what his gut, had already figured out.

"Calvary Cemetery," he whispered, the breath catching in his throat and his heart feeling as though it had lost all rhythm.

Dean froze mid-stride, then slowly turned around, the colour having suddenly drained completely from his face.

"What'd you say?" he demanded, unsure as to whether or not he'd heard his brother clearly.

"Calvary Cemetery." Sam repeated, lifting his gaze to meet his brother's eyes, the shockwave drowning all other emotions in him. "The Gates of Hell."

Dean looked stunned. "What d'you know about that place?"

But Sam ignored him, unable to stop vocalising the impossible insight that was resonating within him, the pieces falling into place as he spoke.

"That's what you did, isn't it? After you killed Yellow-Eyes, while the Gate was still open, before Bobby and… before Bobby and Ellen could close it you… You just walked right into Hell."

Even as he said the words, on some level he couldn't quite believe it. Not the selfless recklessness of it, nor the suicidal brilliance, nor the downright damned audacity of it. He stared at his brother in disbelief, breathing hard and feeling winded.

"You walked right into Hell, didn't you?" he repeated. "That's where you were, why they couldn't find you. That's where you were for…" But his voice failed him again and he swallowed before continuing. "For all those months. You were in Hell."

"You don't know what you're talking about Sam," Dean said shakily, breathlessly, but there was no conviction in his voice and in that moment the fact became irrefutable between them.

Dean looked away, knowing his deception had come undone. His breathing was as unsteady as Sam's and he blinked several times before turning to confront his brother again, an expression so pained, so imploring, it caused Sam's heart to constrict.

"I couldn't just leave him there," Dean said finally, admitting his actions. He shook his head, blinking to clear tears that were suddenly, inexplicably, threatening. "I just… I couldn't leave him there Sammy. I couldn't."

Sam nodded haltingly, partly in understanding, partly in acceptance. "So you just walked right in?"

He was aware that he sounded like a stuck record, but his brain couldn't seem to move past that point, as if it were waiting for confirmation.

Dean gave it as he nodded, but said nothing. Distantly, Sam was aware that Dean's defences were going up. That he was retreating into lockdown mode, but Sam couldn't focus his thoughts clearly enough to say anything to prevent it.

"So what… What happened… to you? When the gates closed? What–"

But Dean, having recovered from his shock much quicker than Sam, was already closed off.

"It's Hell Sam," he said caustically. "What d'you think happened? I died."

"You died." Sam repeated, feeling the numbness of the words spreading through him.

"Yeah Sam. I died."

He turned again to leave, and it kicked Sam's brain into some kind of gear. He took a few long strides to close the gap between them, reaching out a hand to Dean's shoulder to halt his progress. At the contact, Dean spun around with more force than Sam's light touch had warranted and the look in his eyes startled Sam as much as the sudden movement had.

"Let's just get one thing straight," Dean growled in a low, menacing tone. "We are not having some Kumbaya let's pass the emo stick around moment here, all right? We're not talking about this, we're not having a heart to heart. Dad was in Hell, now he's not. I was there, now I'm not. End of."

He began turning away again but Sam spoke.

"Does Bobby–"

"Nobody knows," Dean snapped, cutting him off. "About any of it. And it's gonna stay that way, understand? You keep your pie-hole shut or so help me Sam, I'll shut it for you."

"You died Dean. And…. Now you're back. From Hell. And what about Dad? I mean… How–"

"Am I talking to myself here? What did I just say? We're not talking about this!"

"How are you back from the dead? How did you get Dad out? Just… How?"

Dean sighed in disbelief, shaking his head and looking up at the sky. He realised his brother wouldn't let it go, realised he'd been foolish to think it could be that easy. Realised if he didn't give Sam something now, Sam would potentially rehash the argument at the Roadhouse. Where prying ears were bound to hear. That was completely unacceptable. He put a great amount of mental effort into keeping his tone even when he finally spoke.

"Cas pulled me out. Pulled me and Dad both out."

"Cas?" Sam thought about that before continuing. "Why?"

"I don't know why."

"You didn't think to ask?"

"You think he'd tell me? Look maybe it screwed with the natural order of things, or Heaven was feeling generous, or somebody lost a bet, I don't know! All I know is, we're out. Dad was already dead, but me? I don't know, maybe it hadn't been my time or something. Maybe that's why I came back alive. I don't know and it doesn't matter coz Dad's out. And I'm not dead. So everything's good. I'm good. So just drop it."

"You're not good Dean. You're pretty damn far from good."

"What d'you want me to say? Huh? What will it take for you to let it go?"

"The truth."

"I've told you that already."

"Not about Hell. Not about what happened to you in there."

"This is a waste of time."

"Dean–"

"No! Okay? No. We're not talking about this."

"Dean what's really going on? Why are you mixed up with angels and demons?"

"I'm not mixed up with anything. Demons exist. Always have, in case you forgot. And as far as Cas goes, not that it's any of your damned business but excuse me for having him on my side."

"On your side for what?"

"The job."

"Angels and demons were never the job."

"Yeah? Well maybe I got promoted."

"Dean–"

"What the hell would you know about what the job is now anyway Sam? You left, remember?"

"I would've come back if you'd asked," he countered softly. "After Dad. If you'd told me, if I'd known–"

"Really?" Dean scoffed. "Left your cushy little life to slum it in crappy motels with your worthless dumbass grunt of a brother?"

"I've never thought that about you," Sam frowned, instinctively hurt, and Dean looked away briefly.

"You thought it about the job though didn't you?" Dean rephrased after a beat. "About the life. It's why you left, isn't it? We weren't good enough for you."

"It was never about you and you know it."

"About the job then."

"This isn't the job Dean," Sam repeated.

"Well, it is now. So just deal with it."

"Deal with it? Seriously? Like you're dealing with it?"

"Sam–"

"I'm not blind Dean," Sam responded, cutting him off. "And I'm not stupid. And as pissed as I am at you, and believe me, right now? I'm pretty damned pissed, you're still my brother. So why can't you just admit to me that you're not okay? Coz I know you're not."

It was the genuine concern in Sam's voice that threw the older Winchester and left him without a retort. Sam's anger, Sam's animosity, Hell! anyone's animosity, that, Dean could deal with. But this wasn't that. This was something far more dangerous.

Because Sam loved him, unconditionally.

Stood there under Sam's scrutiny, Dean realised that despite everything, his brother still did. It had been something that Dean hadn't seen or felt or known in years, and yet those feelings came back for Dean in an instant and there was no hiding for him anymore. Coming from Sam, that concern held ten times more weight and it hit ten times more hard, because the root of that concern from Sam was still embedded in love for Dean.

A love Dean knew he no longer deserved.

And Dean felt shame from it. So much so, that he had to look away, shoulders slumping slightly under the weight of acknowledgement.

"Maybe," he conceded finally, voice softening, still unable to meet his brother's gaze. "Maybe I'm not 100 per cent okay. Okay? But I'm getting there. I am."

Sam bit his lip, clearly not convinced, and Dean spoke again to prevent Sam from prying further.

"Look, you think I don't know how messed up things are with me right now? Trust me, I know, okay? I mean I'm fighting demons and talking to firggin' angels... That's not normal! Not even for us. I get that, I do... But… I'm dealing, all right? You might not like how I'm dealing, but I am. I can't do any better than that."

"Dean," Sam spoke quietly, the honesty from his brother softening the irritation from moments ago. "You can't keep going on like this. Dealing with whatever this is, alone. I know there's more to it than what you're telling me. If you just trust me–"

But Dean shook his head, halting Sam midsentence.

"I can't afford to stop and do any better than I'm doing here Sam," he said softly, still not meeting Sam's gaze. "I just… I can't. And I know you want me to fill you in on whatever it is you think I'm keeping from you, but… I can't. I just can't. If I stop…" he shook his head again, jaw set firm. "There's too much to do right now. So one thing at a time OK? We got Jess back. Now we get Kyle back. That's all I care about. That is all that matters. But this? What you're doing? This Dr Phil session-ing me. It's just wasting time man. And we can't afford that. You know I'm right. So you with me?"

How could Sam not be? His son's life depended on it. He clenched his jaw, biting down on all the things he wanted to say right then. Knew they were both at an impasse that still left him feeling as though Dean had somehow won.

"Of course I am," he replied when he finally trusted himself to respond. "You know I am."

"All right then." Dean said, slapping Sam on the shoulder. "Good talk. Tell anyone about it and I'll shoot you myself."

He turned before Sam could say any more, making his way back to the Impala and after a few moments, Sam followed suit, a beat behind as his brother.

Dean had just turned the engine over and was about to pull away when Sam spoke.

"This isn't over Dean. You and I, we're gonna have a long talk. You're gonna let me in eventually, whether you like it or not."

Dean smirked. "Right."

"I mean it," Sam volleyed, turning to face his brother. "Jess and the kids aren't my only family. And there's nothing I wouldn't do for family. I picked that one up from you and Dad."

Dean opened his mouth to say something flippant but the look in Sam's eyes, the openness on his face, stopped him in his tracks. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had looked at him with so much genuine sincerity. With so much concern. So much love. Not even John. He looked away quickly, unable to stand the intensity of emotions emanating from his brother. The sooner he sorted out this mess for Sam, the sooner Sam could go back to his own life and get out of Deans.

And as far as Dean was concerned, the sooner the better.


tbc. Thank you for reading, and thank you for your patience!

AN: The wording Sam uses to describe his cancer (this disease pumping through his veins and he couldn't rip it out or scrub it clean) is what he said in the show about the demon blood.


MewWinx96: Glad you're enjoying it :-)

Long Live BRUCAS: And I'm glad you liked Cas' eventual reveal. It was pretty sparkly in my head.

Guest: You're right to worry about poor Dean, I'm worried about him too!

Shazza19: Glad you liked the rib detail. And you were right that there would be some fallout in the car-ride back.

Soliloquy: Isn't it funny that in the show I used to get so annoyed at Sam and now that I had the chance to write him... I still ended up making him just as annoying! He is who he is I guess, whatever the universe. I'm really glad you're enjoying it

Thank you guys for taking time to comment, means a lot as always. And thank you for your patience. I'm sorry for the delay this time, but the next chapter or two will be up much sooner :-)

Stay well everyone!