Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters

A/N: I'm really really sorry for posting this chapter previously without a warning for graphic content and references to self harm - I completely forgot. Just want to thank Karasu Yurei for pointing it out. Again really sorry if I offended anyone.

Dean didn't understand what was going on, if Sam was hurt or injured then why didn't he tell him? He tried to think back to their last hunt, it was a nasty Poltergeist, and sure Sam got thrown around a bit, but Dean had checked him out; there were no blood injuries. Sam had been pretty banged up and left bruised, but there had definitely been no blood. Standing up quickly, he took the blood-covered cloth with him and exited the bathroom.

He found Sam., standing over a duffle bag, hap hazardly putting stuff away. Looking for any sign of injury, Dean found that his temper was rising, while his instinct was telling him not to go straight for his brother, as this would only push Sam further away.

"Sam, what is this?" Dean asked as he held the bloody cloth up for his brother to see.

He watched as Sam turned to look at him and could have sworn that he saw his brother flinch when he realised what Dean was holding in his hand. But as soon he thought he saw it, it was gone.

"Oh I just had a nosebleed this morning, no big deal, you'd better hurry with that shower otherwise we will never make it to Bobby's." With that he turned away from Dean and resumed his packing.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean asked, his gut was telling him that there was something wrong here but he just couldn't put his finger on it. Sam stopped what he was doing and turned to face him.

"Dude, it was a nosebleed, hardly worth mentioning. I had forgotten all about it until you came out waving that thing." Again he turned and resumed his packing.

"Are you sure you're ok? There is nothing else going on?"

"Yeah Dean, I'm fine, it was just a nosebleed."

Dean nodded his head and went back into the bathroom closing the door behind him. Leaning against the door, he closed his eyes, Sam was lying to him, his Sammy was lying to him. He knew in his heart that his brother had just looked him in the eye and lied to him. Dean was sure of it, he had watched Sam grow into the man that he was today and there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that there was something going on with his brother.

He was at his wits end, and suddenly a tear that had been threatening to fall for the longest time finally made its way down his cheek. He was lost and he knew it. For some reason he thought that he could just walk back into Sam's life after to two years and pick up right where he left off but now he realised that that wasn't the case.

For his whole life Sam had been able to come to him with any problems he had, knowing that if he didn't want their father to know that Dean would never tell and that he would do everything in his power to help Sam out of whatever situation he had found himself in. When had that changed?

Moving towards the sink, he turned on the cold tap and bathed his face with water. Looking into the mirror he saw the same Dean that had looked after his little brother all his life. He had always thought that he was a good son and a good brother but obviously he was wrong. His dad had left him and Sam obviously felt that he had to keep things from Dean now. So if he wasn't the good son and the good brother then who was he?

Dean turned away, again trying to remind himself that he couldn't afford to let himself drown in self-pity, how could he help Sam get back on his feet if he was struggling to keep his own head above water? But then a little voice in his head said quietly "what if Sam doesn't want you to help, doesn't need you to help?"

Shaking his head, he knew that that was just his self-doubt talking. His little brother needed him, and the fact that Sam was keeping things from him meant that they were in a lot more trouble than he realised. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the self-doubt away and knew that they had to get to Bobby's – sooner rather than later.

SN

Sam knew that Dean didn't believe him, he could tell by Dean's eyes. But he had a choice to make and he would rather that Dean think he was a liar than be disgusted by a brother who he finally realised was nothing more than a weak human being.

He ran his hands over his face and slumped down onto the bed as he heard the shower begin to run, knowing that his brother would not emerge for another few minutes, Sam laid himself across the bed. Closing his eyes he felt the tears that had been his constant companion over the past few weeks, show themselves again. He knew that if Dean knew what he had been doing, he would be disgusted with him and Sam could not take the chance on Dean walking out on him, he just couldn't bear the thought of being alone.

Sitting up slowly on the bed, he began lifting up the sleeve of his shirt, watching in quiet fascination as the scars on his arms began to appear. After Jess's death he had felt numb, he followed Dean because he needed to find the thing that had taken his girlfriend away from him, but also because he felt safe with Dean. However soon after leaving Palo Alto the numbness began to wear off and the pain and grief of Jess's death finally hit home. He was never going to come home and smell the shampoo that she used wafting through the house, he was never going to wake up beside the women that he had decided that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and he was never going to have the safe normal life that had seemed to close until a few weeks ago.

It had hit him like a bolt of lightening and with it, it had brought the nightmares, full-blown high definition replays of the night that he had lost the love of his life and with her the life he had always dreamed of. His appetite was now none existent, everything that went into his mouth tasting like sawdust. He was back hunting, and although he knew that it was part of the life he now chose to live, the constant reminder of how bad life can be only increased the pain that he was feeling. That was until one night when Dean had gone out to get something for them to eat.

Sitting in the motel room on his own, he had decided to check his emails; it was the first time since that night that he had bothered. Reading the messages from his friends actually made Sam feel worse, as it was just a reminder of what he had lost. Suddenly he felt like he couldn't breath.

Standing he headed towards the bathroom, sitting on the side of the bath he put his head between his knees and tried to slow his breathing, but it just wouldn't work. Lifting his head, he looked towards the sink and saw his razor blade, and then before he knew what was happening he was standing up with the blade in his hand. Looking at his arm he began to cry, he just wanted the pain to stop, he wanted to be numb again.

And suddenly, he was watching himself running the blade across his arm, and was transfixed watching the blood beginning to ooze. He could feel the pain lessening and he was as close to feeling numb, as he was when they left Palo Alto. Sam didn't want to kill himself; he knew what it would do to Dean, that he would blame himself for not protecting his little brother and Sam didn't want Dean to have that guilt.

But it made him feel better and Sam couldn't help it. He felt a release from the pain of loosing Jess, from the guilt for his part in her death and the burden that he knew he was for his brother.

Sam knew that if Dean ever found out what he was doing, how weak he really was that he would leave him. He would realise that Sam was nothing but a liability and that he would end up getting him killed, just like he had gotten Jessica killed.

Getting back up off the bed, he wiped his face. He knew that Dean's patience with him was getting thin, so he was trying his best to prove to his brother that everything was ok. It was hard, but finally he had gotten control over how he woke up from his nightmares, and now it was at the stage where Dean didn't wake when Sam did. Eating was something else he was working on, but with everything tasting like sawdust, his stomach would begin to churn once the food entered his mouth. He had gotten used to throwing up in the bathroom after eating. It wasn't as if he was making himself sick, his stomach just refused to accept the food that it was being given. As long as Dean had thought that everything was ok and he was getting back to normal, everything was fine.

But now he knew that Dean didn't believe Sam about the blood, so he would just have to be more careful. Sam couldn't loose Dean; not after everything else.

Tbc...

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