A/N: Sam and Dean plushies +++ Chocolate foorrrrororr :: sendintheclows, October Road, Palo Alto, Poaetpainter, and JoyofReading!! Thank you guys SOO much for the kind reviews they mean the world to me lol and (DUHH of course Sam has season 1 hair haha wouldn't have it ANY other way : )

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YOU'RE LYING WHILE YOU CONFESS…

-SAM'S POV-

I'm pretty sure I know my brother well. I know when he's angry or sad. I know when he's telling the truth or when he's lying right to my face. I know.

I know when he really cares and when he really doesn't. I know when he wants me to tell him what's going on and when he wants me to be the liar. Yeah, I know.

So when my eyes start to open, I know my brother wants to ask me something. I know something is troubling him.

He's sitting on the bed; guns spread everywhere, the knives in different sections. Everything organized by size and type. Color and shape. What the hell is my big brother doing? Cleaning them? Where's the wire bristle brush? Where's the goddamn gun cleaner?

Dean with his gun collection and matching knives. Dean with his gun cleaning hobby.

"Dean? What the hell are you doing?"

"We're missing one."

Dean with his beating around the bush.

I lean up on the headboard and painfully lift my arm into my lap. Lifting limbs shouldn't make want to die for an aspirin. Lifting limbs isn't supposed to make your entire body hurt.

Me with my normally broken body. Nothing new.

"We're missing a gun." Dean hasn't looked at me yet. Just keeps his eyes on the guns, scanning over them like he's going to find it out of nowhere. "I counted them and one's missing… I'm trying to figure out which one it is." Now Dean looks at me. You know that look he does when he doesn't move his entire body, just his head. And he's hunched over so he's looking up at me at a slight angle. Well he's always looking up at me.

"You wouldn't happen to know?"

It's a .45 loaded with one silver bullet. Used to be loaded with two but then I shot the witch lady and now there's only one. And when she attacked me it flew out of my hand, and crashed out the window. Hence why the window is still broken. Yeah, that gun's long gone. "No."

Dean's turns back around like he trusts me. I know he doesn't. I know when he's pretending. I know.

He's sighs out an 'oh well' and starts to get the guns and shit together. Starts to put away the extra mess he's created. Now he's smiling at me.

Dean with his big, fake smile.

I take the liberty of taking this second to take a look around this room. This room is fucking trashed. And by the way, I know why Dean hasn't started cleaning it up yet. I know.

And up until this point I sort of forgot to tell Dean about the witch. Oh well. That was a dumb dream hazed idea any way.

Or maybe that was the only time I made any sense at all.

But now I think I've got an idea of what to do. I think I know how to fix this mess. Watch me fix it, Dean. Just watch.

"Dean I think I'm gonna go out for a little bit."

He looks at me like I'm insane before letting his face break into a wide and untimely grin. "Hell, no. You're staying here and helping me with this mess. You're the one that let that witch-"

Dean knew to shut his mouth then. He knew, just like I know. He knows when he's going to far, too soon.

"Sorry."

"Fine. But, really I think I should… go out for a little bit," I try to say this as I stand up. This only makes me seem even more incapable of actually taking a few fucking steps on my own.

"Why?"

"Cause I want to leave this room before you make me clean." I try to say this with a smile. Even with a smile it sounds so obvious there's some reason I want to leave.

Me with my hidden agenda.

Dean shakes his head firmly, and places his hands out, "Sam are you sure nothing else happened with that witch?"

Yeah well, Dean you see I already explained this to you in my dream. Weren't you listening?

"Yes."

"Yes you're sure?"

"Yes."

Dean rolls his eyes so visibly all I want to do is poke them out.

"Want to try answering with more than one word a freaking time Sam?"

"Yeah, why not."

Dean points his finger at me as if I'm a dog being scolded. God, I hate that. "Well Sam, you're really convincing. Now I know something is wrong and if don't tell me, I'll just have to find out on my own.'

Thanks for the trust Dean. Thanks for pretending. And don't you worry. I know.

He doesn't really say much else for another ten minutes. Just lets me sit there all freakin awkward as he puts away the guns and knives. Cleans his messes. Takes care of what needs to be done. Wish I were like that.

"So Sam, why are you shaking?"

Huh?

I look down at my hands after his slightly sarcastic remark. Sure enough, my hands are shaking. I try to stop them, but these hands won't listen to me. Listen goddammitt! Stop giving Dean a reason. Stop giving him a reason to open his mouth. Stop giving him a reason to push me into defensive mode

Dean with his stupid sarcasm. Dean with his serious questions.

"Sam why are you shaking?"

Worried about the curse. Duh. "Not sure, you're not really making this a comfortable environment."

Come on, Sam. Why are you picking a fight now?

"Yeah well, I'm not all the freakin comfortable having to walk around with shoes on all the time, since you know. The floor's covered in glass."

Dean with his anger. Dean with his harshness.

Dean with his Deaness.

"Then how about I make all of our lives a little easier and get out for a few, huh?"

Dean shakes his head for what seems like the millionth time in the 20 minutes I've been awake. "No Sam. No matter what you say to me, you're not leaving this hotel room. And you're not leaving my sight."

Ha. Dean with his death wish.

A/N: Come onnnn leave me a review pretty pretty pretty please : )