Thanks to you everyone who reviewed. As always greatly appreciated by each and every one of you.

I just wanted to let you all know that I have finally figured out where this story is heading, and how it will actually end. Chapter numbers are not exactly complete in my head, but there are a good couple more to come after this one.

Oh and since I've had a few PM's about it, I thought I'd mention Papa Winchester. He's not dead in my stories, he's just well, erm, busy with other stuff (hints towards reading Forsaken), but defiantly not dead, and defiantly not forgotten about. He'll be back soon enough.

Thanks again for reading, and I hope you enjoy 'Crazy Talk'….

Chapter Nine- Crazy Talk

Dean Winchester sighed, as he returned from his bedroom having taken the chance to change his clothes in the momentary lapse of action.

It was still bothering Dean to why his room was the only part of their apartment that hadn't been trashed.

Now in navy cargo pants and a dark green t-shirt, Dean carried a blanket and a pillow out in his arms and over to where he'd plugged the lamp in.

Sam was still unconscious.

Or sleeping.

Dean wasn't quite sure, but he wasn't prepared to harass his little brother just yet. He needed to check on that wound.

Sighing, Dean quietly took the blanket and covered Sam with it, and as gently as he could, eased his brother's bleeding head off the floor and slipped the pillow under it. It satisfied Dean by a fraction to hear his brother's breathing was steady, if not a shade on the shallow side.

Sitting with his legs to the side, Dean moved the blanket a few inches and stared at Sam's blood soaked left side. Dean prayed that it was just a dodgy scratch that wouldn't cooperate. He hoped it was just left over blood and that the wound had started to clot now. Anything, but what he actually saw.

Swallowing deeply, Dean saw the wound.

Ok, so he'd got it wrong, Sam hadn't been stabbed. It was worse. He'd been slashed.

Dean took the towel and the new bowl of hot water, and as gingerly as he could, wiped the surrounding area, he winced in sympathy for Sam.

...God Sammy, what have they done to you...I'll fucking kill them; I'll kill every single one of them...

Dean paused when Sam stirred, his body automatically flinching at the pain. Dean gently took a hand and smoothed his brother's hair off his head, trying to settle him back down. He glanced again at his hand and thought he'd imagined it, he quickly moved his hand to his brother's grazed cheek and then his neck.

Sam had a very high fever.

Dean managed a smile for the sleep filled, pain riddled, hazel eyes that finally stared at him. He instantly felt Sam tense up, his hands already trying to push Dean away, his body trying to run.

" Hey, hey, hey..." Dean ushered gently, " It's ok, you're safe. Everything is going to be ok..."

Sam tried to raise his head, but eventually had to lower it. He just didn't have the strength to fight. Not now.

" You know who I am, right...?" Dean asked as he gently smoothed Sam's blood caked hair. Dean could still feel the anger simmering in the pit of his stomach.

" I, I..." Sam said forcing Dean's hands to stop work, " Don't you dare touch me..." Sam finally stammered out as he pushed the blanket off himself and struggled into a sitting position.

Dean stared at Sam in disbelief, the blood soaked cloth in his hand.

" Come on Sam, it's me..." Dean whispered, " You're hurt, you need help..."

" I need you to stay the hell away from me..." Sam said inching himself back against the wall, amongst the furniture, his eyes anxiously looking for a weapon.

Dean sighed; this was getting old, quick.

Sam sat with his back against the wall, his body shivering involuntarily, his hands juddering vigorously as he tried to wrap his arms around himself.

" You're gonna go into shock..." Dean said matter of fact style.

Sam never answered as he rested his chin on his hands, his body shaking as he tried to regain some sense of what was happening.

" Who, are you...?" Sam finally chocked out, " Who are you..?"

Dean closed his eyes trying to pull himself together, trying to hide his anger, trying to make Sam believe who he really was.

" It's me Sam, look at me, look into my eyes and tell me who you think I am...?" Dean said sliding over gently to Sam and kneeling in front of him.

Sam slowly lifted a shaking hand, his finger tips brushed Dean's cheek; tears spilling helplessly down Sam's terrified face.

Dean struggled to keep his composure as Sam crumbled in front of him.

" Help me.." Sam frantically whispered, his voice choking violently with sobs, " Dean, help me please..."

Sam's hands covered his face, his hands wondering from his head to his face frantically.

" Why are you doing this to me..." Sam stammered out, " Why did you do this..?"

Dean blinked the burning tears that were quickly filling his eyes.

" Sammy, I need you to take a deep breath and start from the beginning..." Dean said keeping his voice as steady as possible.

This wasn't the time to break down, one of them needed to stay in control and from the looks of it; it wasn't going to be Sam.

Sam just buried his face against his knees, his hands pulling at his dark hair.

" Sammy..." Dean said gently taking his hands and pulling Sam's grazed and bloody hands away from his head. " Sammy, look at me please..."

" Why do you hate me so much..?" Sam whispered as he looked at Dean's hazel green eyes, " You have no idea how much I care about you, that's why I don't understand any of this..."

And that was it.

Dean couldn't keep his composure anymore. He stood up and walked away, the tears already streaming down his face.

Angrily he wiped them away, his back turned to Sam.

" Do you know where I was last night...?" Dean finally asked, as Sam gave him a weak look. " I was out getting pissed with a couple of nobody's. I then went back to some girl's house and got lucky there..."

" No, not again..." Sam said covering his hands over his ears, " More lies again, I can't do this.."

" No Sam, no that is the god honest truth..." Dean said walking back to Sam and kneeling again in front of him, forcefully taking his humming brother's hands from his ears.

Tears caught in Dean's throat, angry, burning tears.

" You think I could do this to you..?" Dean whispered in disbelief, " You think I could physically do this to you. Physically beat the hell out of you..? I couldn't, I wouldn't Sam..."

" You did, I was there.." Sam snarled, " I looked into your eyes just like this and you...-"

" No..." Dean said grabbing Sam by his shoulders, " I would never do this..."

" All those cracks you've been making the last few days, all those evil things you've been saying and the looks you've been giving me.." Sam whispered as he tried to free himself meekly from Dean's grip. " Every single time, you've apologised, what makes this any different...?"

Dean stared at Sam in confusion.

" What wise cracks..?" Dean demanded, " What did I say to make you think that I would do this to you..?"

" Are you serious..?" Sam said with a chocked sob, " That crack about wanting me to die, that muttering about me not caring about anyone, telling me that I destroyed your life..?" Sam shouted at him, " You want me to keep going..?"

" No..." Dean said shaking his head, " No, I did not say those things..."

" You wished I'd stayed dead..." Sam said shaking his head, " Yeah well I got news for you, when the hell was I dead..?"

Dean staggered to his feet his mind reeling.

...The spirit, oh my fucking God, Sam was right all along, there has been a spirit, the friggin Demon...

Dean's shoulders slumped as he walked away towards the kitchen.

" Why didn't you just call me..?" Dean finally said from the kitchen, his body exhausted, and his mind minutes from giving up. The shock to the system was just too much.

" Call you..?" Sam snorted, " How the hell did you expect me to do that, I don't have a phone..!"

Dean looked at Sam strangely. Now that was odd.

" Sam, I gave you my old phone…-" Dean tried to say as Sam frantically kept shaking his head, Dean trying to get Sam to focus on him.

" No, you didn't, no you didn't…" Sam ranted repeatedly, " No you didn't, I'd know, I'd remember…"

" Sammy, my old phone it was locked in the trunk, remember..?" Dean said trying to coax the memory back in Sam's confused mind. " Think Sam, remember..?"

" Mine got wreaked in the crash…" Sam stammered out as he lifted his head to look at Dean, his hazel eyes wide and confused.

" That's right, that's right Sammy…" Dean said a small smile breaking onto his face. At least he was making progress. " When we got here, I found my old phone, found an old SIM card…"

" No.." Sam said shaking his head, " There's no phone, you're just messing with my memory, same way you tried to hide the book, and the camcorder and the lap top Dean.."

Dean shook his head, where on earth was all of this coming from..? Where were all these crazy accusations coming from..?

Dean scrambled to his feet and went back into his creepily clean room and snatched his cell phone off his bed. He hurried back into the living room and sat down beside Sam. He showed his little brother the phone.

" See..?" Dean said snapping open his phone and going through the directory until Sam's face appeared on the screen to call.

" No…" Sam stammered, " You never gave me a phone, why would I lie to you Dean..?"

Dean closed his eyes and hit call on his phone.

A ringing sound came from around the room that caused Sam to scream as he clamped his hands over his ears now frightened.

Dean doing his best to ignore the startled person trying to disappear into the wall behind him, followed the ringing sound and found the phone wedged under a sofa cushion.

Dean holding both cell phone's in his hand, watched as Sam's phone was lit up with the words 'Dean Calling' dancing around on the front of the screen.

Sighing deeply he walked back to Sam who was now bordering hysterical, the phones in his hands.

" That was not there Dean, that has never been there, you never gave me that..!" Sam yelled at him, " Dean you have to believe me, you never gave me that phone…"

" Let me have a look at that wound of yours.." Dean said quietly deciding to drop the touchy subject, " You're losing a lot of blood…"

" You don't believe me…" Sam said as tears begun to form in his eyes again, " You don't believe me, Dean I'm telling you the truth. Why would I lie about this..? Why would I lie to you..? Why are you behaving like this..?"

" Lie down…" Dean ordered, tiredness beginning to creep in, his mood becoming rattier, his own confusion growing too fast.

" You're smart, like super smart…" Sam said shaking his head trying to clear the mist, trying to avoid the sensations pulling him into sleep. " You're the one who is always telling me to follow my gut when things don't feel right.."

" Sam I don't have time for this.." Dean said over his brother's ramblings, " Can you walk..?"

" It doesn't feel right Dean, the house doesn't feel right…" Sam said in a steady voice, desperate for Dean to listen to him. " I would remember things like you giving me a phone, where we left the 'Key of Solomon' where you put the camcorder, why you hid the laptop from me…"

Dean never answered as he got up and headed towards the larger of the two sofas and with a couple of grunts turned it the correct way, and then looked over at Sam.

" Come on.." Dean said with a steady tone of his own. " You'll be more comfortable on this.."

" You're not even listening to me are you..?" Sam asked shaking his head, " What is wrong with you Dean..?"

" What's wrong with me..?" Dean finally said, " I come home to find you looking like an extra from a horror movie and my house looking like a set from one of the 'Die Hard' films…"

Dean bent down and with most of Sam's weight against him, helped his little brother onto the sofa. With Sam lying on his side Dean snapped the lamp on again and studied the wound. He made a face at the decision he'd come to.

" It's gonna need stitches…" Dean muttered as he sighed and ran a hand through his short brown hair. He slumped against the sofa, as he sat on the floor.

Of all nights to have gone out drinking.

" You're not even fit to drive Dean, and we can't call an ambulance…" Sam pointed out, " How would we explain this to them..?"

" We're not going to the hospital.." Dean muttered, " I'm gonna have to do it.."

Sam's eyes widened and he sighed dejectedly.

" Is it really that bad, can't we wait until the morning…" Sam asked in a hopeful voice, as he watched as Dean tiredly got to his feet and wondered between the fallen furniture and head into the kitchen.

Sam could hear him opening the cupboards and fridge.

" What are you looking for..?" Sam asked, even though he had a pretty good idea what.

" Vodka…" Dean said his voice heavy, " Anything…"

" We've only got beer and that is not even gonna work.." Sam said as he heard Dean moving around in the kitchen.

Ok it wasn't the first time they have had to stitch each other up. Sam was actually pretty good at it, after constantly having to stitch Dean up as he roguishly always got himself injured trying to protect his little brother. It drove Sam mad. Always had, always would. He had a feeling though that Dean never listened to him and would always try and to protect him no matter what, even if it meant Dean losing his own life. It was sometimes like Dean had no value on his own life, and that once again bugged the hell out of Sam.

Dean rarely had to patch Sam up with stitches. Sure there were the odd times when he'd get himself hurt, but the whole stitches thing was pretty rare. There was a rule though; whoever was getting stitched up always was allowed to get drunk to help dull the pain. Sam swallowed at a vivid memory that had taken place not too long ago.

Dean had got his shoulder slashed by a sickle, nasty business and it just wouldn't stop bleeding. They'd been in the middle of no where, and the smart ass spirit they'd been chasing had taken the front wheels off the Impala; to Dean's total horror.

Sam had no choice to stitch Dean up without any medicinal aids, and Sam never forgot the look on Dean's face when he'd done it. He'd been in agony for several days and he'd only had eight stitches put in.

It now looked like Sam would get a chance to sample it himself. He was in a lot of pain already, how much more could be take tonight…?

Dean returned with a glass of water and other things Sam wouldn't see on a tray. Sam watched as Dean righted the coffee table and pulled it close to him. Sam peeped into the tray and saw navy blue cotton and several needles, water, cotton wool and other things Sam no longer wanted to think about.

" Dean maybe we should call an ambulance.." Sam whispered as he looked at Dean, " You look exhausted.."

" And you look like shit.." Dean muttered his anger clear at the task he had to do. " Now, take these…"

Sam looked at the blue pills in Dean's hand.

" Pain killers..?" Sam asked with a sniff, " I don't think they'll help me.."

" It's the best I've got, besides you're gonna need something for the pain.." Dean muttered as he gingerly pulled Sam's t-shirt up.

" What I need from you Dean is for you to listen to me, not to patch me up like a freaking game of operation…" Sam said his voice worried, " It's like you've switched off…"

" You're scared, and you're worried and you're seeing things.." Dean finally said looking deep into his brother's hazel eyes, " You're confused Sam, all of this, the whole demon thing, the accident, moving away here, getting you out of hospital early…"

" Dean, no, it's nothing to do with that…" Sam pleaded with Dean trying to grab his mechanical brother's hand.

" I've been pushing you too much…" Dean said shaking his head, " Pushing you to get better, so we can be go back to the way things were; but they can't…"

" Dean, please…" Sam whispered as it slowly begun to dawn on Sam's mind what his elder brother was telling him.

Sam's mouth dropped open as his eyes locked with Dean's hazel green ones.

" You think I'm losing my mind don't you..?" Sam said with a dry chuckle, " You think I'm going crazy.."

" Not crazy…" Dean said keeping his voice steady, " Just exhausted, so this is what we're gonna do…"

" No, no, this is what we're gonna do…" Sam said forcing himself into a sitting position on the sofa, his body too exhausted to swing his legs off, " You're gonna go outside and come back in and start behaving like the Dean I know, my Dean…!"

" Just lie down and keep quiet…" Dean muttered tightly as he roughly shoved Sam back down by his shoulder.

" Dean I mean it…!" Sam snapped, " Look at me, look at this place…"

" Sam I swear to god, if you don't lie down and keep your mouth shut…" Dean threatened as he looked angrily at Sam.

His own anger at the situation, his fury at the circumstances of what he was doing; everything was beginning to get to him. He just wanted to thump something, kick the shit out of anybody, beat something into a bloody disgusting pulp; anything to get rid of this filthy rage that was building in him.

Or was that fear…?

Dean shook the feelings from his head, he needed to keep his head on, keep himself focused.

Sam stared at Dean with his famous bambi like expression his eyes large and innocent, hurt filled and confused. Dean just wanted to throw his arms around his little brother and hug him, to take the blanket and pull it over both of them and stay under it forever.

Away from creatures, spirits, ghosts and demons.

Away from it all.

Dean looked at the blanket on the floor by the wall.

Reluctantly, he walked over to it, picked it up and begun to try and cover his angry little brother. Sam trashed the blanket away, knotting it around his arm.

" Stop it Dean, stop pretending like you can't hear me.." Sam now demanded, " I need you, and you need to help me on this…"

" Sam, please just drink the tablets…" Dean said in a heavy voice. God he was tired.

" There's nothing wrong with me..!" Sam said as he pushed the glass of water from him.

" Sam…" Dean snapped, " You're burning up, you've got a fever god knows how high and you're spewing nonsense about ghosts and demons and evil Dean's…"

" Nonsense..?" Sam spat, " Thanks a lot Dean.."

Sam angrily stood up, almost knocking Dean over who was still kneeling in front of the sofa.

Dean hung his head.

Why was this so hard...?

" Where are you going..?" Dean asked in a quiet voice, " You're gonna die Sam if you don't let me look at you.."

" Look at me…" Sam spat as he picked his way in the increasingly brightening living room. " I don't even want to look at you, you son of a bitch. How dare you think I am crazy, how dare you Dean…!"

Dean watched as Sam spun and looked at him,

" I'll prove this to you and then what..?" Sam shouted, " Who, will be the liar…?"

" I'm not saying you're lying, you're just seeing things Sam, but we'll fix it, you and me, together, we'll fix it all…" Dean whispered.

" I hate you..." Sam whispered sounding more like an angry ten year old whose older brother hadn't allowed him to play ball with him and the other big kids.

" Yeah well, hate me as much as you want..." Dean said with a sniff, " Frankly after tonight I don't really give a shit.."

Sam chuckled dryly as he walked slowly, painfully towards the veranda door, leaning heavily on anything to help support the burden of his weight. He just wanted to go outside, smell the sea air, listen to the waves, stare at the sand; anything but stay in that beach house and listen to his elder brother accuse him of being a liar.

...The rambles of a crazy man...Sam thought to himself as he gingerly took another step forward. He no longer felt the pain in his side, he just felt light and fluffy.

A small smile baited to Sam's face, which considering the situation caused Dean's eyes to widen.

" Sammy..?" Dean asked curiously as he watched the goofy like expression spread across Sam's face.

" I can see myself..." Sam whispered in a shallow voice.

Dean who was still exhaustedly sitting on the floor beside the sofa gasped out loud when Sam's eyes rolled to the back of his head and his little brother hit the floor hard.

Scrambling over, Dean knelt at Sam's side. His hand hurriedly searched for a pulse and he barely felt one beating weakly. Dean wasn't thrilled at what he was having to do, especially with the last half sane words from Sam being the rather horrible phrase of 'I hate you', Dean realised that he was about to sink even further out of Sam's favour.

Picking up the tray with his equipment, Dean took the wad of cotton wool and poured the anti-septic wash onto it. Sucking in a deep breath, he carefully lifted the t-shirt and gently as he could, touched the very edge of the slash.

Sam's eyes snapped open in agony.

Dean reeled back expecting Sam to do something violent, but he was surprised when Sam wearily looked at him and lowered his head back onto the floor.

He finally nodded his head and Dean hesitantly held his hand again over the bloody wound. Dean stared at his shaking hand. God this was going to be hard.

" This is gonna hurt Sam, really hurt..." Dean admitted.

" Just do it all in one go, ignore me and just do it..." Sam said as he turned his face away from Dean, simply to spare his elder brother the visual.

Sucking in a deep breath, and avoiding the temptation to close his own eyes, Dean started to clean the wound.

He ignored Sam's gasps as best as he could, he tried to ignore how tense his brother was. He also tried to ignore the automatic defence reflex Sam's body threw up at the pain. Dean found himself having to keep a hand down on Sam's chest as his little brother's body involuntarily contorted.

It took Dean almost half an hour to clean the wound.

Staring at the needle, he opened his mouth to say something to Sam, something comforting and meaningful, yet nothing worthy of the situation fancied making an appearance.

" Do it.." Sam said in a small voice, as a violent gasp escaped his mouth as Dean pushed the needle straight into Sam's skin.

" Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry..." Dean chanted as he hurriedly tried to stitch the wound up.

Screw the friggin cotton that kept getting knotted.

Dean every so often would peep over at Sam whose eyes were facing the veranda. They were glazed over in pain. Dean could only begin to imagine the agony Sam must be in, but to Sam's credit, he wasn't making much noise.

Either that or he'd bitten off his tongue.

Dean shook himself from that horrid thought.

The elder Winchester then counted the stitches he'd already put in. There were ten so far and he wasn't even half way...

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Thirty stitches all together.

That's how many Dean Winchester had sewn into his little brother.

Dean leaned back against the wall and stared at Sam who was still on the floor.

" They'll pay for this Sam..." Dean whispered as he closed his eyes, his head resting against the wall, " I give you my word that I will find the son of a bitches that are screwing with you and kill them..."

Dean tilted his head in his brother's direction. He couldn't believe how ill, how confused, how deranged Sam was becoming. Something seriously was screwing with Sam's head. To make Sam dream up a situation like this. No way, that took power, serious freaking power.

There was only one person Dean knew that had power like that.

" Our friendly demon that likes to bring angels back from the dead..." Dean muttered.

Dean studied Sam's still form.

There was no chance of Sam hearing him say those words.

The younger Winchester had lost consciousness at stitch number thirteen...

xxxxXXXXxxxx

(sighs)Poor Sam, Dean doesn't believe a word he's telling him, no wonder he's angry. Poor Dean, he thinks his little brother is losing his mind. (grins) Well one of them is losing their mind, but which one..? Thanks for reading, and please review. See you all next update xxx