Tried to post this earlier but the upload page was not working. I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter and based upon the reviews I received, you did. First of all, I want everyone to know that I adore Dean. His hitting Sam is not meant to imply that I don't. I have just had a real hard time with the series in that respect. My intent is to show that Dean is not happy with himself. I hope I succeed in conveying that. Now, this story is shorter than the last one I posted, at this time only 23 chapters. I'm am not finished with it yet but don't see it going for many more chapters. This being said, I most likely will only be posting one chapter per day, unlike the last one. I may post more if a chapter is particularly short or if it is the weekend. As this is the last story I have written, I do not have anything to post once this one is done. I am working at coming up with a new story, but haven't gotten as far as writing yet. So, I want this one to last as long as possible. Okay, enough rambling...on with the story.

Cindy.

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Sam held his hand over his bleeding mouth, flinching when the motel room door slammed shut behind his retreating brother. He slouched forward and dropped his elbows to his knees, his eyes on the door.

"Well…that went well," he murmured as he wiped the trickle of blood from his lip.

Sam sat for several moments, hoping the throb that had started in his head would ease. When he came to the conclusion that the headache was not going anywhere soon, he stood and walked to the bathroom. He looked at his face in the mirror, turning his head slightly to see that his slightly swollen jaw was fast turning a faint purple. His split lip still bled and he drew his tongue over the cut, the taste of copper turning his stomach sour. Sam turned on the faucet and splashed the water over face. He reached for the hand towel and dried his face then held it over his lip until the bleeding stopped. He thanked the stars that his nose wasn't bleeding also, although it hurt to high heaven.

Once he was cleaned up, Sam exited the bathroom and retrieved his sleep clothes from his bed then quickly changed. He thought about going for ice to help quell the swelling in his jaw and lip but felt too drained to do much more than fall back onto his bed and stare at the ceiling. Sam's jaw, no scratch that, his entire face hurt as well as his head and he wished he'd grabbed some painkillers before collapsing on his bed. He sighed as he glanced across the room to Dean's duffel bag where the pills would be. As much as he wanted relief, the movement was just too much for him so Sam closed his eyes and willed the pain to go away.

Sam knew why Dean was mad. He understood, but he wished his brother could express his discontent in a less physical way. Sam still remembered the day Dean had found out about him lying about using his powers, the pain from those punches not too far gone in the past for him to have forgotten. Ever since he'd come back from hell, Dean had been more easily angered and used physical force more often. Not that he hadn't been physical with Sam before. There was the time when they'd first met Gordon Walker, 'And wasn't that a bitch,' Sam thought wryly.

Sam realized that what Dean had gone through had everything to do with it and that he hated being lied to, but it wasn't like Dean had never held something important back from Sam, or lied to him. The only difference was that Sam had never struck his brother when he was in full control of his actions. Even when Sam learned of the secret Dean had been keeping about what his father had said, Sam hadn't used physical force even though he had been so hurt and angry he'd wanted to hit something, but not Dean. Never Dean.

Sam sighed again and rolled slowly onto his side then pulled his knees up toward his chest. He allowed the beat of his heart to lull him slowly to sleep and it wasn't even minutes before the murmurs and moans started as a nightmare took hold. Nightmares of fire and pain, blood and bone, torture and sorrow.

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"Hit me again," Dean called as he wrapped his knuckles on the wooden bar.

The bartender, a man of about thirty, short and stocky, nodded and poured Dean another shot of Jack before reaching into the ice bin for another bottle of beer. He sat the drinks before the buzzed hunter and pulled a few bills from the pile that sat next to the empties. He removed the empty shot glasses and beer bottles and nodded again before walking away.

"Thanks," Dean murmured under his breath before taking the shot and gulping it down, following close behind that with a long swallow from the beer bottle.

Dean set the bottle down and folded his hands on the bar. He stared at his hands, his mind wandering to the motel room and his little brother. The knuckles on his right hand ached and he wondered guiltily what Sam's face felt like. He'd have to add tonight to the growing list of times he'd hurt his brother when there were more constructive, less violent ways to express his anger.

"Fuck!" Dean spat to himself then lifted the bottle once more to his lips, draining the beer before setting the empty bottle back down.

He shook his head when the bartender raised the Jack bottle then retrieved all but two of the bills that were resting on the bar. He smiled slightly and left the bar, the chilly night air hitting him in the face as he stepped out the door. The cool air cleared his head and he couldn't help but let the anger creep up on him again. There was, however, something more prevalent than anger that darkened his thoughts this night. Sam had gone to a crossroads. His baby brother had made a deal and couldn't or wouldn't tell him what it was, and Dean was scared. No, he was beyond scared. He was absolutely terrified. He'd been to hell. He knew what awaited Sam. He'd told Sam what he had been through, had poured out his heart and soul and let Sam see him at his most vulnerable and his brother had cried for him. So now Sam comes in and tells him that he's made a deal? He's made a deal but can't reveal any part of it? Why? What possible reason would the stupid little twit have for doing something so insane?

Dean stepped up to the Impala and without thinking he kicked out, the tip of his boot connecting with the driver's door as the questions flew through his head. He didn't spare a single glance to see if he'd caused any damage as he pulled the door open and scooted behind the wheel of his baby. He slammed the door shut and dropped his head back against the seat, much like Sam had done hours earlier. What the hell was he going to do? He couldn't let Sam go to hell. He couldn't allow his baby brother to be subjected to the same torture and agony that he had gone through. Couldn't fathom the thought of his Sammy, his sweet, gentle brother eventually becoming what he had started to become.

"No!" Dean screamed as loud as he could as he slammed his fists onto the steering wheel. "I won't let you do it Sammy…I can't lose you that way," he said more softly, just a whisper really.

Tears pooled in Dean's green eyes before spilling over his cheeks only to drop to his jean clad legs. He hastily brushed the tears away then started the Impala, the familiar rumble helping to ease his frantically beating heart somewhat. He pulled out of the small, dirt parking lot and headed in the direction of the motel, suddenly needing to see his brother. He needed to make sure that Sam was okay. He needed to find out what was going on in that freaky brain of his. And finally, he needed to know, after everything he'd told Sam about his time in hell, why the little bastard would knowingly make a deal and put himself right in the middle of all that suffering. He'd make Sam tell him, no matter what it took.

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The room door opened and soft moonlight spilled over the slumbering figure that lay prone on the bed furthest from the door. Dean stood in the doorway, his eyes glued to his brother as his heart began to race. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He glanced at the salt line to make sure it was intact before moving to the side of Sam's bed. Sam lay curled in a ball and Dean could hear soft murmurs whisper out between the sleeping man's slightly parted lips. He was having another bad dream, if the murmurs and furrowed brow were any indication.

Dean's eyes traveled to the dark bruise on Sam's jaw and then to the split, swollen lip. He swallowed against the bile that rose in his throat. Usually there was swift and brutal punishment for anyone who dared to lay a hand on his brother, but this time he was the abuser. He was the one who marred that gentle face. Dean swore to himself, berated himself for allowing his anger to rule his fists, and not controlling himself before he hurt Sam. No matter what Sam did, or didn't do, there was never justification for hitting him. That had always been Dean's rule. Never be the one to inflict pain onto the one person he held above all others.

Dean reached down and softly rested his hand on Sam's shoulder, smiling when his brother's murmurs immediately stopped. He pulled his hand away and sat on his bed, his eyes never leaving Sam's face.

"What am I gonna do with you Sammy?" he whispered as he swiped his hand wearily over his face.

Dean stood to make his way to the bathroom when a soft, sleepy voice halted him. He turned to see Sam's eyes open and staring at him pleadingly. Dean remained silent, unsure of what to say and not wanting to fly off the handle.

"Dean…we need to talk about this," Sam whispered as he raised himself up on one elbow.

"What's to say Sam? You made a deal and you can't tell me anything about it. Unless you're going to spill the details, there's nothing to talk about," Dean said then turned and walked to the bathroom.

"Dean…" Sam said, lowering his head as the bathroom door was shut and locked.

Sam sat up and slung his legs over the edge of the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. This was not how he wanted to spend his last three days with his brother. It's not like he expected Dean to be happy about what he'd done, but he had hoped to at least be heard, to be allowed to explain. Well, at least explain as much as was allowed without blowing his end of the deal. Sam sat hunched over, head in his hands until several minutes later when he heard the bathroom door open. He lifted his head and watched warily as Dean made his way to his bed. He stared up as Dean stood above him, the older man's gaze resting on the carpet at his feet.

"Dean…I…" Sam started.

"Just tell me this Sam," Dean interrupted, his eyes finally falling on Sam's face.

"What?" Sam questioned when Dean remained silent.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, his hands moving to grip his knees. "How long do you have until…?"

Sam looked away and dragged one hand through his unruly hair. His heart hammered in his chest and he suddenly felt the urge to just up and run. This was not going to go over well. Not one little bit. Dean might just end him himself after he found out how much time Sam had.

"Sam…how much time?" Dean repeated, his voice holding a hint of irritation mixed with a great deal of fear.

Sam turned to meet Dean's gaze and sighed then answered, bracing himself for the storm to come. "Three days," he said softly as he dropped his eyes to the floor.

Sam wasn't quite sure what he expected Dean's reaction to be, but it certainly wasn't the reaction he received. The silence in the room was deafening and Sam slowly raised his eyes, his breath hitching when he saw tears streaming from his brother's eyes as they stared at him in disbelief and sorrow.

"Dean? Please…don't…" Sam stammered, unnerved at seeing his normally stoic big brother crying.

"Why Sammy? We just got each other back. Why would you do this?" Dean asked softly, his eyes pleading with his little brother for an explanation.

Sam swallowed back the lump in his throat, afraid that his own tears would start. He clasped his hands together nervously as he tried to find the right words to say.

"I-I had to Dean…" he started softly.

"No Sam…you didn't. You chose to do this…behind my back. How could you do this to me?" Dean cried as he abruptly stood, suddenly towering over Sam.

"I did this for you Dean. I did it for everyone. It's the only way to protect you," Sam said.

"Protect us from what?" Dean queried, clearly confused by Sam's explanation.

"From me…" Sam whispered sadly, his tears finally winning over his will.

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Okay, that's it for tonight. I know I spoiled you guys with mulitple posts on previous stories, but I hope you understand why I only want to post one chapter per day on this story. Please let me know what you think about this chapter. Reviews are love.

Cindy.