Thanks so much to my very wonderful, awsome Beta who so patiently gets all the small facts for me to use...msnancydrew. Thanks again to all the wonderful readers, and comments are cookies! Next up, the boogeyman.

This chapter is all from Sam's perspective.

Laura

Sam saw by Dean's startled expression, and sudden interest in which one of them liked what kind of pie, Sam's apology took him totally by surprise, completely threw him off balance. He watched Dean, not sure what else to say, or do, finally deciding to see what Dean did or said. Dean might have almost died on him a few times, but never in Sam's memory had Dean willingly left him. At least not like he had a few days ago. This was new territory for him, and he had no clue what to do, or not do.

"New coffee pot." Dean motioned to it. "What happened to the old one?"

"Broke."

"Ummm….blender and toaster are gone."

"They broke too, just didn't get replacements."

"Oh. Well, priorities. I hate when all the appliances opt for mass suicide and jump at once."

After setting a plate of warm food in front of Sam, Dean sat in the other chair. He seemed calm, himself, but Sam knew better than anyone, Dean could be like the weather, sunny and balmy one minute, a deadly, destructive wind the next.

Drawing in a deep breath, Dean ran one hand over his face before looking at Sam. The look Dean wore nearly killed Sam, it hurt so much, Dean obviously hurt so much, making Sam hurt even more himself. Dean sat for another full minute at least fingers intertwined, elbows bent, chin resting against his clasped hands. Looking down at the plate he knew Dean wanted him to eat, but the thought of putting food into his already tumultuous stomach made him feel worse.

"You tried to tell me something the other day," Dean finally began, his voice low, soothing and softer than he normally spoke, even to Sam. "And not only did I not listen to you, I…well…I didn't listen. I'm an ass, but I'm also the only brother you have, so I guess you'll just have to deal with that."

That made Sam smile for an instant.

"Before you tell me, and this time I promise to listen and try very hard to not be an ass, there's something I need to tell you." Dean reached over, putting a slice of each kind of pie on a plate, pulling it closer. Then he tapped Sam's arm, "Eat, cause I know you haven't had much, if anything since I left here."

Sam picked up his fork, but didn't do anything with it. Dean, Sam decided might very well eat his way through the Apocalypse. Dean eyed him, but didn't push the issue.

"A few months before you were born the neighbor a few houses down, her dog had puppies. And I wanted a puppy. I wanted one in the worst way. I've since found out they were annoying, yappy little biters, but I was four, and at the time they were cute and fuzzy. But I couldn't have a puppy, 'cause Mom couldn't take care of me and a baby and a puppy. So, I decided in my four year old wisdom that when you were born, if I could take care of you, I could get a puppy. So, ya know, you were born and all. I wasn't really allowed to hold you much, because I was four and a lot of….well most…ok everything I picked up I dropped…"

"You dropped me?"

"Ummm…not…well maybe there was one…ok, three or four times…I was two feet tall it's not like it was that far to the ground." Dean looked down at his plate, blushed a bit and shrugged, "It does sort of explain a lot."

When Sam snorted, Dean grinned. Deciding pie looked better than the strata Sam pulled one closer for a forkful. Dean pulled the pie away, shoving the strata back in front of Sam.

"Real food first. Anyway I was still on this mission to get a puppy. Ever since you came home, you'd scream, I mean, dude, you'd howl loud enough to make all the neighbors lose sleep. So, somehow they figured out if I sat in your crib with you, you'd shut up. Every chance I got, I'd get in there."

"I thought you only did that after…"

"Na, I think Dad only noticed after." Dean laughed a little, "Mom let me in there all the time. It was cool, I'd get in there with you and you'd stop screaming and crying, make all sorts of gooey, cooing noises, or just go to sleep. No one else could do that, just me. Even back then Dad would get near you and you'd blow off at him, actually I used to think it was sort of funny. So, then there was the fire, and I figured the puppy wasn't going to happen, but by that time it didn't really matter so much, your diapers smelled a lot like the puppy anyway."

Sam scrunched his nose, and reached for the pie again. When Dean tried to stop him, Sam refused to let it go, raising his eyebrows. It was his universal given birthright as little brother to torment his big brother whenever possible. Dean gave him an annoyed look, shrugged and let go of the pie plate. It appeared he was going to refuse to be tormented, or even slightly riled, so Sam gave up and ate his pie. The tight knot that was Sam's chest loosened a little.

"The night of the fire Dad, he just grabbed you out of the crib, and shoves you at me and tells me to run outside, to not let go, run as fast as I could. After all those months of 'couldn't hold you because I'd drop you…um…again', he just hands you over, sort of says 'here, yours now, take care of him'. So, I did. But Sam, what you don't get, what Dad never got, I did that before anyone ever told me to. Not to the same extent of course, but as much as I could. Ok, the first month or so after you were born it was to prove I could take care of the puppy, but that changed. No one, not Mom, not Dad, no one had to tell me to do that. I didn't take care of you because they told me to, or because I was forced to. Maybe Dad did shove you off on me," Dean shrugged, "I don't really know. Hell, I don't know what he thought half the time. If he did do that, it was never what I thought, or how I felt."

Hearing Dean admit their father was anything but perfect made Sam's head spin a little, and oddly made him feel more relaxed, less fearful his brother was leaving.

"I did it, Sam, because I wanted to, still want to. I did it because I liked it, do like it. It's something I'll never stop being proud of. Do you know all those times Dad said, 'take care of Sammy,' it just pissed me off. As if I'd forget or something, or like someone else would, or even could, it was never a burden Sam, never. You're my brother and taking care of you makes me happy, makes me feel good, not just about myself, or you, but because I did that, took care of you, raised you. I'm proud if doing that, and of you. Let me tell you something else too Sammy, Dad lost a helluva lot of sympathy points with me the day he told me I'd maybe have to kill you."

Sam stared at the table, not really knowing what he could say. He'd always known Dean loved him, but hearing the words made it almost surreal. "I…you never said…"

"I didn't ever think I had to." Dean cut him off quickly. There was no malice in his voice. Sam realized it was something Dean never realized needed saying, or that Sam simply didn't know his feelings on the matter. "And you were about three before you caught onto the fact that I'd taught you to play fetch."

Trying desperately to give Dean an evil stare, Sam failed, miserably. First the corners of his mouth wouldn't cooperate and turned up, then despite trying not to, Sam laughed.

"Sam, I don't know what all this is about, but I do know one thing. Mom and Dad, they're gone. They dumped this shit in our laps and left us to deal with it and clean it up. Keeping things from each other, it's stupid and only leads to problems. I'm not going to do that anymore, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't either."

"I didn't mean to." Sam looked down at the table again, picking at the end of his fork with his thumb. "You don't know how many times right after Dad….afterwards, I tried to tell you, wanted to. I didn't want to think about it. It's not like I didn't love Dad, just not the same as for you. I didn't want to think about it, and I didn't want to remember, so I guess I didn't."

A quick glance at Dean's face, Sam was already worried he'd gone too far. To his surprise Dean was impassive, simply listening. His expression was more of curiosity than anything else.

"Dad, he didn't really want to talk to me much, I was sort of on my own the whole time you were…after the crash. It was horrible, you had a tube down your throat, and there was all this equipment, and wires and IV lines and stuff I don't even know what it was. There was one doctor, he was really cool. I think he was an intern. He was probably the same age as you. He was nice, really nice to me. I could tell he felt sorry for me, for us, but he didn't act all sappy. He kept explaining all this stuff to me, what they'd do to you and why. I could tell he was trying to make me understand…what happened to you was…" Sam stopped, bit at his thumb nail for a minute before continuing. "I told him about you, what you were like. How you were the only real family I had, ever had. I think he really got it, really understood."

He ventured another tentative glance at his brother's face, but there was no trace of anger, Sam was a bit taken aback Dean had no comment about him being Sam's only real family.

"I've never been so scared in my life. Really deep down scared, like I couldn't even breathe right scared. Every time I left your room, it was nothing but agony until I could get back, and I was terrified something awful would happen, that you'd die while I was gone. Then Dad comes up with this errand he wants me to go on for him. He wanted the Colt, that's when he gave me that list of stuff. I told him I didn't want to leave, I couldn't leave you all alone there." Sam tried to stop the tears blurring his vision from forming. With a shaky hand he brushed them away. Dean sat quietly, watching him intently. "He told me…told me I had to go, even after I told him Bobby was getting your car, there was no need for me to go. But he insisted. Told me I had to, he tricked me, lied to me, said the things he needed were to protect you. He promised he wouldn't do anything about the demon until you were better. He…he…he told me it was my fault you were hurt, that I shouldn't have been allowed along, near any of it. He said it was all my fault…"

"Sam—" Dean's voice was soft, his hand came to rest on Sam's arm.

"He meant it Dean!" Sam didn't mean to snap, or sound as harsh as he did. Dean's hand drew back, rested on his lap. Had Sam been a second faster he would have grabbed it, held on, not wanting his brother so far away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. You didn't hear him say it, or see the look on his face. He meant it Dean. He thought it was my fault you were hurt, that you were dying."

"He had no right Sammy. It wasn't your fault, not at all. He had no right to say that to you."

Sam's chest loosened a bit more. He looked up, met Dean's eyes. There was anger there, but not, Sam immediately understood, at him, but for him. Sam knew for him Dean's face, voice, eyes held only compassion.

Dropping his gaze to the floor he went on. "He told me since I didn't shoot him, it was my fault, said I had only myself to blame if you died."

Hearing Dean's breath catch, Sam looked up quickly at him.

"I asked you not to shoot him, so it's hardly your fault. It's not mine either. It's the demon's." Dean spat.

Smiling a bit, Sam very much appreciated that, and Dean's unconditional acceptance of Sam's innocence. "Thanks. I went out to get the Ouija board that was the only other time I left you. When I was coming back from the store where I bought it I saw him. I don't know if he saw me, he didn't act like he did. He had the bag I brought the Colt and his supplies in to him. I didn't know what the stuff was for, or where to get it. I had to ask Bobby for help, he told me what they were meant for. When I brought them back we got into a fight, same old stuff. I didn't have much to do with him after that, didn't really say much to him, just stayed with you, in your room until you woke up. He got on an elevator with the bag. I didn't care what he did, or why. At that point all I cared about was that you woke up, that you'd come back to me.

"I didn't want him to die. I didn't give it a lot of thought though, what he might have been doing. I wanted you to live, I didn't care how or what it took, the only thing I could think about was you living. It was like my brain didn't have room for anything else. I sort of figured it out later, or thought maybe it was possible. But by that time it was too late, so I just didn't think about it anymore."

"Sam, I want you to listen to me, because damn I'm tired of repeating myself. None of this, not a single part of it is in anyway your fault. Not what happened to Mom, or Dad, and certainly not what happened to me. I've told you before, you're a victim, no less than they were. And laying that crap on you, telling you it's your fault…" Dean was on his feet so fast Sam flinched before he could stop himself. He honestly thought Dean might hit him. Giving him a searching look, Dean relaxed his shoulders, but paced along the narrow kitchenette. "If he was here right now I wouldn't tell him that, I don't think I could do more than punch him. It was wrong, and just plain mean. Even if it was your fault, and it was not, saying that was so wrong, on so many levels."

Dean stopped, stared down at Sam for a second or two. Sam didn't know what to do, was at a loss for words. The actions, the words scared him some. He braced himself for Dean to bolt out the door again, maybe this time not coming back. The knot which had slowly loosened in his chest was back, full force, tightening on him like a vice grip. The next words that came from Dean's mouth sent his head spinning, the implications taking a bit to sink in.

"He should never have said that, he was wrong. Then to let you just go on thinking it was true, to not say anything when he knew he was going to die. To not say anything to you other than 'go get coffee' and pull the stunt he did. I still don't agree with what he did, but there isn't squat I can do about it. Honestly I don't blame you one bit for feeling the way you do about him, not at all. And it just pisses me off."

Sam's chest suddenly felt as if some huge weight had been dropped on it, then removed with lightening speed. The knot completely untied and fell away. His head spun, all he could really process was Dean understood, wasn't angry with him, wouldn't leave, would always be behind Sam, catch him when he stumbled, look out for him, would try to understand him. It was far more than Sam had ever gotten from anyone else. How he got so lucky, or why he deserved this he did not know.

Not seeming to notice Sam much, Dean continued on. "Christ Sammy, you were twenty-two, a kid, and he lays this bullshit on you? Then what he lays on me? I think that damn demon fried his brain, and long before he got possessed by it. He had no right. He was wrong."

"You think he was wrong about me?" Sam's voice sounded too soft to his own ears. It must have to Dean too, he looked down at Sam so suddenly, head cocked to the side Sam wondered if Dean had even heard him.

"Wrong about you!? Hell yes he was wrong about you. It's my new working theory. If he thought for one minute I'd kill you he was wrong. If he thought I'd stand around and let him kill you he was dead wrong. If he thought you'd ever turn into something evil he obviously wasn't paying any attention to the kid who lived with him for eighteen years. He was beyond wrong. And if I ever hear you saying you think otherwise, I'll beat the crap out of you."

Sam laughed a bit, but the glare Dean turned on him had his smile sliding off his face. His brother scared him a little when he got like this. He had no doubt Dean's word were gospel, and should be fully heeded.

Turning to the counter, Dean asked, "You want some coffee with that pie you didn't want to eat that is now half gone?"

Dean growled out something else, but Sam didn't catch it, his brain was too muddied up. Wheeling out of his chair, he seemed to know only one word, "Dean." He barely whispered. Dean hardly had the chance to half turn towards him, eyebrows up in question. Wrapping both arms around Dean's neck like he had when he was little, Sam pressed his face against his brother's neck, not caring if it got wet from his tears or not. Sam's weight suddenly pressed against him forced Dean back a step, but his arm around Sam's back held him tight. Not that he had a snowball's chance in hell of dislodging Sam until Sam was damn good and ready to be dislodged.

"Whoa, hey, Sam, it's ok." Dean's voice was soft and calming in his ear. "It's ok Sammy."