Ummm… I'm soo sorry this took so long, I just had a huge writers block with this story… I don't know what came over me, but I think that I'm over it now. I hope you can forgive me… I hope someone is still out there; thank you to those who reviewed this story and those of you who put it on alerts and favorites! Without you... this would never get finished! And I always keep my promises… and I promised that I will finish this story and I soooo will. I'm really sorry for the wait! 'm sorry. And I'm sorry for the grammar/spelling mistakes too.

Enjoy…

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The room was still dark even though the thin morning light came to see what was going on… it sneaked through the curtains, spilled over Sam's moving chest. Sam, who was sitting on the bed, blinking at the window and Dean who was fumbling with his jeans and trying to come up with an answer to that question.

Where was Dad?!

Fuck if I know.

"He'll be back soon."

"Don't lie to me."

Sam's voice was sharp in Dean's ears and it made him cringe.

"He went to see if the witch was working alone. He'll be back."

"When?"

"Soon, Sam."

There was silence in the room after that… nothing but occasional thunder from somewhere in the distance. A baby started to cry somewhere in another room near theirs and a cat made a noise… but that was all. That was all the sound that the cold, early morning held. And Dean had to break that… the silence in the room was making him dizzy. Dizzy with thoughts that were swimming in his head, thoughts about what… how to explain it to Sam that what he saw and felt was an illusion. That their Dad was alive and well and living and breathing and walking and talking and that the witch was just playing with him, casting a spell on him, making him see stuff. He tried already, but Sam was… he was just too far away to be reached. And Dean understood, he did… Sam just saw his Dad die, or at least he thought that he saw his Dad die and… every 'I'm okay' 'I'm fine' was just a coping mechanism that Sam used to shield himself. Dean understood, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt.

"You 'kay?" Dean breathed.

"Yeah, 'm fine."

"Okay."

But Dean saw by the way Sam was breathing, by the way his hands were twitching, by the way his eyes kept looking everywhere else but Dean, by the way Sam curled on himself, lying back down on the bed, wincing when the new position burned his scrapes and bruises, by the way Sam showed his back to him… Dean knew that Sam was so far from okay.

"I want Dad."

The words were whispered into the pillow, but Dean heard them loud and clear as if they were yelled into his ear.

"He'll come."

Dean wished that that won't become a lie and he swore to God that if his Dad won't come soon… yeah, he had no idea what he would do. He sighed.

Sam battled with the bed, trying to lie back onto his back, wincing when he pulled up his knees.

Dean hadn't moved from his position by Sam's side, knowing that Sam wasn't over with talking. Sam's never over with talking, unless he's sulking, which was not the case here, Dean hoped.

He waited for Sam to open his mouth and he wasn't let down… three heartbeats later and Sam was…

"I saw," he fumbled with the blanket with his left hand, brushing Dean's jeans with his knuckles, " Dad… a man… that girl… witch die."

Dean wanted to laugh at Sam's words and how he couldn't make up his mind about what he saw… but… he just turned his body to Sam, looked into his brother's eyes that were hiding beneath his hair and breathed out: "She… she made you see that. She cursed you, Sammy. There was no man there. It was just her and me and Dad. And she... died. And you didn't see Dad… Dad's okay."

Sam swallowed. Dean could see his throat working, tears probably burning it but Sam won't let them fall… not again. One moment of weakness was enough for Sam. Dean knew that Sam was strong, he was the strongest person Dean has ever met.

"Yeah."

His little brother's voice was so small in the room, in the early dawn. So small that even the distant thunder overpowered it.

"Sammy…"

Dean was lost. His mind was all over the place and he wanted to scream and kick and cry and run. His Dad left him with Sam… alone to fix this, but Dean knew that he wasn't the one to fix this. Dad was.

Sam settled back into bed, his knees drawn up, his hands hugging them tightly and wincing when the cuts stung.

"I have to go," he looked at his hands, crusted blood under his fingernails and cleared his throat, "wash my hands. Get some sleep." He wanted to pat Sam's shoulder or back or calf or something to convince himself that the shudders that were shaking Sam's body were just an illusion too.

He stood up then, with a weird burning thought that maybe he shouldn't leave Sam alone, but he had blood under his fingernails, blood… he needed… needed to go. Leave. Just to take a breath. The bathroom was his only way of getting some privacy, some time to think, to breathe. Breathing is always good.

He walked towards the door, his feet hitting the wooden floor, the noise far too close to comfort and glanced back at his brother, his little brother, looking even smaller in that big bed.

There was a mirror in the bathroom, a small one but he could see his face clearly in it. He could see what the night did to him. His hair was all over the place, his freckles stood out on his pale face, like someone painted them on, his eyes were tired… he could see everything…

Son of a bitch!!!!!!

Screaming in his head was enough to get some relief from the pain he saw in his bloodshot eyes. He gripped the edge of the white sink, his knuckles turning from red to white…

Son of a bitch!!!!!!

He wanted to scream out loud, the words gigantic weight stuck in his throat, but he couldn't. Sam would hear. Sam would know how angry and freaked out he was. And he couldn't allow that. He needed to fix Sam… and then he'll fix himself. He'll glue himself back together after he'll glue Sam back together. He will. Yeah… he will. He has to.

Son of a bitch!!!!

He gasped as if the scream sucked all the air out of his lungs. He hanged his head low, his chin almost touching the string from where his amulet hung from… and his ears were invaded by the sound of a door opening and closing and a scream: "No!!!" that shook his body from head to toe.

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TBC…yes I know a cliffhanger but… I think I work better if I leave a cliffie to think about. Sorry. runs back to writing