Chapter 2

Dean pushed through the motel room door, the bag of food dangling precariously from his mouth as both hands were busy opening the door and balancing the drink carrier. After the infamous porno incident of '07 he made sure to make as much noise as possible giving Sam every indication that he was on his way in the room and he wasn't stopping. As he made his way inside he noticed the bathroom door abruptly closing. He would have called out but the bag cheesy cholesterol goodness he was lugging about in his mouth hindered his inquiry.

Setting down his packages Dean surveyed to the room, always interested with what his little brother did when he wasn't there. As if being around him 23/7 wasn't enough. It looked exactly the way he left it a half hour ago when he went to get the food. Lame. "You feeling alright, Sammy?" His brother still hadn't come out of the bathroom.

Dean went to sit down on his bed-by-birthright closest to the door. A glint of silver caught his eye before he sat down, though. He picked up his gun from the bed inspecting it carefully. Years of habit-forming vigilance had him checking the clip and chamber. One silver bullet placed carefully in the chamber shining dully as it caught the light from the ancient halogen lamps of the motel room. His brother still hadn't made a sound from the bathroom. Something wasn't right; he could practically freaking taste it.

"SAM?!" Sam walked over to the bathroom all the while trying to think of some reason, any reason that his gun would be lying on his bed with one bullet ready to blow his little brother's brains out. Sam opened the door before Dean was able to knock it down. The look of shame and grief that flitted across his brother's face was the only answer he needed as anger and fear flared him coloring his vision and clouding his judgment.

"You stupid fuck!" Before he realized what he was doing Dean had fisted Sam's shirt forcing him into the bathroom wall.

"You wanna explain what the FUCK you were planning with this, Sam?" Dean indicated the gun he still held in his free hand. "Make sure to use the small words cause at my level of pissed off, I'm not as capable as usual at weeding through your bullshit."

"Dean, I…" Sam didn't have an answer; couldn't think of an excuse. Dean didn't give his brother a chance to formulate a lie. He was too angry and scared (Holy shit he was scared) and didn't know what to do, so he stuck to his MO and let himself get angrier.

"Did that bitch, Ruby, tell you the Winchester levels in hell were getting low, or do you just want the inside scoop? How bout I give you the cliff notes version." Dean placed the handgun in his waistband to get more shaking leverage on his stupid little brother. "It fucking sucks!" Dean articulated the last two words with a slam against the wall. Releasing his brother Dean ran his hands through his hair and began pacing the room not knowing whether more violence would alleviate the pressure that was building behind his eyes.

Dean spread his arms wide, trying a different tactic when anger failed to yield results, opening himself up to his little brother. "What can I do, Sammy? Is it something I said? Is it something I've done? You gotta help me out, man. I can't read your mind. You need to tell me what to think here"

Got it in one, big brother. Fresh tears sprang to Sam's eyes. "I… I controlled you, Dean."

"What are you talking about, Sam?" A hint of suspicion crept into Dean's voice.

Sam looked at the mangy carpet unable to meet his brother's hateful gaze, "These are not the droids you seek."

"Wha-" Realization dawned on Dean. Two and two and one and two suddenly wound up equaling seven, and all the missing pieces fell into place. Betrayal and anger flashed across his face as he moved toward his brother with surprising speed. Before Sam could move or even breathe he found himself flat on his back while black spots danced in his vision and a ringing filled his ears. "WHAT did you do?" His brother paused, giving Sam time to process, "What did you MAKE ME do?" Dean's voice was lethal, deadly.

Sam didn't get up off the floor. He just lay there waiting for the next blow to come. Hoping the next blow would be the last. Sam heard his brother's boots cross the floor. A strong, familiar grasp took hold of his shirt, wrenching him up to eye level with strength exceeding what he would have guessed his brother possessed. "What did you do, Sam?" his name was spat at him, a far cry from the loathed nickname only his brother was allowed to use.

Tears streamed down Sam's face as he looked anywhere but his big brother's eyes, "I made you forget." it was barely a whisper. Dean's eyes narrowed. Sam's breath hitched, "We were having this fight… God, this STUPID fight in the car and I said, 'Just forget it, Dean' and you did… Like it never happened." Dean straightened at that, his grip in Sam's shirt losing some of its strength as he lost himself in the memory. Sam was babbling now. His words tumbling over one another in a rush to make themselves heard. "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Just end it, Dean. Please. I don't want to hurt you anymore. You promised you'd end it if I went too far. Hell, you said you'd freaking hunt me not 2 weeks ago." Tears still leaked from Sam's eyes however there was heat behind his last words.

"No." Dean's grip in his shirt redoubled as a fierceness born of determination far more than anger lit his features. "No, Sammy." Dean let go of Sam's shirt releasing his hold and his little brother. Without the support Sam began to sink to the floor. His anger spiked at Dean's reluctance.

"Just like that? You're gonna let it go? After all that crazy kid Ansem or Richard or whatever the hell his name was did with this ability? He killed people, Dean, and I could, too, just as easily. I didn't want this ability, and I don't want to hurt anyone. Just kill me, Dean. Please."

Dean remembers the last time Sam, well actually 'Meg,' had asked him to put a bullet between his kid brother's eyes. It was a long shot, especially with their tattoos still in place warding off possession, but he had to try, "Christo."

"I'm not a demon, Dean…" Sam looked down his next admission visibly taking its toll on him, "I think I'm something worse, so just please end it. Dad warned you this might happen. I'm losing my grip. You said it yourself. It's a slippery slope, and I think I'm on my way down. Do you remember what Jake did? How he fucked with Ellen's brain? Almost made her shoot herself in the fucking head? What if I go over the edge and do that to you, Dean? I can't live with myself. I won't live myself if that's what's going to happen." Dean turned from Sam giving himself space and time to develop something, anything, to stop this conversation before it went too far… well, farther.

Sam was no longer able to take the assurances of his brother. No longer willing to put the world or, more importantly, his brother at risk, Sam reached deep searching for the escape he desired, for the relief he deserved. Opening his eyes he looked at his brother, "Shoot me, Dean"

No sooner was the command issued before Dean's spine went rigid, his every muscle taut, fighting the directive. Dean turned around to face his brother as his hand went to his jeans removing the handgun in one fluid motion. Every neuron was firing, trying to stop his muscles from doing his brother's bidding, but his brain wasn't in control anymore. "Sammy… Sammy, no. Stop, please." His knuckles were alabaster against the butt of the gun as he slowly brought it up to eye level, his efforts to reign in his body's movements only succeeding in making the advances jerky and slow. "Sammy, I can't… I won't"

Sam looked at his only remaining family, "You can. You will." Sam closed his eyes taking a deep breath and stepped up so that the barrel of Dean's gun met the center of his forehead. "I love you, Dean."

"Sammy, please-"

END CH2