By the time Dean had finished speaking John had slumped forward and had his face buried in his hands.

"Jesus Christ." John finally said, straightening up and taking a deep breath. "Drinking demon blood. I never would've even guessed."

"Its acting like a drug and he's going through withdrawal." Dean said, trying to feed Sam the soup like he was a kid again. "Eat brat."

John came closer to him, Sam's eyes snapped to him immediately. "Does he understand?"

"He understands and he can speak, he's just being annoying." Dean said exasperated. "Yes, you Sam."

Sam, in response, gave a small growl, turning his head to the side to avoid the spoon.

Dean felt like the end of frayed rope, so burned out and barely holding on that he just didn't have the patience anymore. He was so tired and so drained that he just...couldn't anymore.

He reached out and gripped tightly at Sams chin, jerking his head forward and all but jamming the spoon into his mouth. Sam sputtered and moved but Dean then covered his mouth forcing him to swallow the spoonful.

"Alright listen to me you little shit." Dean said warning clear in his voice, shifting his hand until he was holding onto Sam's face just slightly on the other end of painful. "Because I'm sick of this and I'm sick of playing your games. You can understand me, I know you can fucking speak. So this is ending now."

Sam glared back at him, upper lip curled into a snarl as he tried to pull free from Deans grip.

In response Dean just tightened his grip. "Enough." he all but hissed out. "Enough Sam, fucking enough."

"Dean." John said quietly, his face almost completely pale. "Dean, maybe you should step back."

Dean felt like snarling himself. "I'm sick and tired of his games," he said. "He's jerking me around, acting like a brat when I'm trying to help him."

"He's been gone for awhile and other than getting him to drink demon blood we don't know what they did to him." John said, his voice surprisingly steady. "he might not realize that you're trying to help him."

Deans grip loosened for a moment and Sam moved fast, ripping his head free and bringing it up to try to bury his teeth in Dean's hand. At the first movement Dean immediately tried to pull his hand away but Sam managed to get close and hard enough to break the skin.

"Shit!" Dean half reclaimed, taking a step back causing Sam to fall back onto the cot. For his part Sam looked a bit too smug, licking his lips. When Dean looked down at his hand he saw blood smeared along the skin, rolling down to fall to the ground.

He stared at the wound, in the shape of teeth, and slowly he registered the pain but ultimately his anger was growing more. His hand curled into a fist, shaking hard and breathing harder.

Before he could realize what he was doing he came forward and grabbed the remains of Sams shirt, hoisting him up. bringing his arm back. The arm with the hand that Sam had just bitten.

"Dean!" he could hear his dad shout. He wasn't sure how but John was suddenly next to him, holding him back. "Dean stop!"

"Let me go!" Dean snarled out, trying to break free and reach Sam. "He wants to act like this? He wants to be a little bitch like this? Fine! But that means he needs to get punished!"

What stopped the both of them wasn't either of them moving or trying to hold the other back, it wasn't each other at all.

It was Sam. Sam who just suddenly started laughing at them, head thrown back, his back curved upwards as he laughed. It was a hollow sound, devoid of joy and real daughter that it just froze them to the core.

"Just like them." Sam leered in between the laughs. "Just like the demons."

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