Okay, it's been a while, but here's the new chapter as promised!

Chapter 11

Sam sighed in frustration. He just thought Dean was on emotional lock-down before. Compared with now, that was sharing and caring. He could barely sense Dean's presence right now, and his brother was in the same freaking car.

Watching the blur of trees out of the window, Sam tried to think about what might cause super-over-protective-big-brother to come out in force like this. Typically, it was to protect Sam from something. Considering the point at which Mike disappeared and how disgruntled Dean was, that was very possible.

Sam thought back to the moment that weird pain struck Dean. He really could not testify on Dean's emotions at that time, which was kind of weird, but he should know how he felt. He was annoyed and angry, both at his brother and about him. So Dean was probably annoyed with him, too. Sam rubbed his forehead, trying to ward off another headache. This circular thinking was getting him nowhere.

"You're going to shoot me if I start another list, aren't you?" Sam asked, wondering where he put his legal pad. Dean did not answer, not that he really expected anything at this point.

Full-lockdown-Dean was frightening. Sam wondered if he could jar his brother out of this mood. Figuring that for a lost cause, Sam reached over into the backseat, looking for his pad. At least Dean threatening to shoot him would break this heavy silence in the car. After finding his legal pad, Sam starting making notes about what he remembered of the attack on Dean in the car and the conversation with Mike.

"Oh, God," he breathed out, reading over his notes. "It was me, wasn't it?"

"What?" It was the first thing Dean said in hours.

"The thing that happened to you. It was me?" Sam asked, forcing himself to face his brother.

Dean made a scoffing noise. "It was my fault."

"How?" Sam demanded. Of the stupid, idiotic things for Dean to say…and believe. "Dean, if it was my fault, then it was my fault. I just need to know what I did so it won't happen again."

Dean shook his head, staring out at the asphalt. Ever since Dean drove his car off the road, Sam noticed his brother refused to even glance his way. It was kind of overcompensating, but Dean did tend to do that. With everything he really cared about. Sam glanced over his notes again. Damn it.

"Dean, we have to be able to talk, to argue," Sam tried, shooting his brother a pleading look that Dean might never see. Dean's head shook minutely. "At least pull over somewhere so I can talk to you face to face." He felt the Impala speed up. "Don't make me mad here, Dean."

Now Dean did shoot him a worried look, confirming Sam's fears. "Relax, Sam. At least let's hit Washington State first. We're only a hundred miles from the state line."

Sam leaned over to look at the speedometer. "So that puts us there in a little over an hour, huh?"

Dean shrugged. "If you say so."

"Well, considering you're doing eighty miles an hour, and the state line is a hundred miles away," Sam said with a shrug. "How do you know where the state line is, Dean? All I've seen are signs for how far the next couple of towns are."

Dean shrugged again, not saying anything. Sam sighed, sinking further into his seat. Silent Dean was a pain in the ass. He almost preferred hearing his brother talking about the latest sexual conquest. That thought had him smirking. It wasn't like Dean would be spinning any tales about being a producer or magazine editor to get some drunken girl naked.

He passed the hour to cross the state line making more notes. By the time Dean pulled into a diner parking lot, Sam had himself convinced that the thing attacking Dean was him. It probably had to do with the demon blood in him. They were not a good team anymore, the very basis of their abilities were at odds with one another and his were attacking his brother without his knowledge or consent.

"That's not it, Sam," Dean sighed, shifting the car into park. Dean turned slightly in his seat. "I told you, it wasn't your fault."

"But it was because I was mad at you, right?" Sam demanded. "That was my anger, my anger, that attacked you!"

Dean gave him a slow, reluctant nod. "But it was because I was still being too open with you, Sammy," he said slowly. "I have to learn to filter you out, like you block me out."

The words stung, but maybe they needed to. "I don't understand."

Dean shook his head. "Hell, Sam, I don't understand any of this!"

Thunder rolled in the distance. Sam glanced out the window, but there was not a cloud in the sky.

"I mean, how much more screwed can we get!" Another roll of thunder. Sam did not bother looking for the source this time.

Sam tried that calming technique that worked before. It was stupid, which was why he didn't want to tell Dean. He thought of Dad coming home after a hunt and how happy they would be, how relaxed everything would become. When he was a kid, Dad coming home was a great time, but not just because Dad was home. It was more because suddenly Dean was happy and relaxed and they just knew that nothing bad could ever happen when Dad was home. He let that peaceful feeling of Dad Home flow through him and out to Dean. He hoped it worked; this diner did not need to be struck by lightning.

"Enough, Sam," Dean said quietly.

"Dean," Sam realized what they needed to do was painfully clear, "I'll understand if you want us to split up. I mean, obviously you can't trust me anymore…"

"What!" Lightning flashed across the sky. "Where the hell did that come from?" Dean pointed a finger at him. "Mike didn't come talk to you again, did he? I'll kick his ass."

Sam stared at his brother a moment. "Dean, you're talking about kicking the Archangel Michael's ass. Good luck on that one."

"Did he come talk to you?" Dean demanded.

Sam shook his head. "No, not since the motel parking lot, when I started seeing angel tracks."

He felt Dean's relief more than it showed on his brother's features. "So what's this splitting up and not trusting you crap?"

Sam fidgeted in his seat. "Well, the way I figure it, because our abilities are from two very different sources, which are basically at war, we're being driven to attack each other."

"Dude, did anyone ever tell you that you have a warped mind?" Dean asked, glaring at him. "That's not what happened."

"No? Then what did, Dean? Enlighten me." Sam drew his arms across his chest, waiting. He figured Dean would come up with something ridiculous.

"Fine." Dean closed his eyes. As Sam waited, his brother's brow furrowed and the skin around his eyes crinkled. The first hint he had that something might be happening was when the sunlight outside did not seem as bright. Sam peered out the front windshield as a thick fog rolled in. Frowning, Sam watched the fog creep toward them until he could not see the road. Then the fog broke, a shaft of light streaming through the darkness to illuminate them.

Dean opened his eyes. The fog was gone, like it had never been there. Sam gazed around, wondering what he just witnessed. "Dean?"

"It's a dark, scary world out there, Sammy," Dean said softly, "and it only has a few rays of sunshine."

"That…that's how you feel about the world?" Sam asked, hesitant to speak.

Dean gave him a slight shrug. "Pretty much. The thing is, Sammy, my emotions can cause…stuff…to happen. What do you think might happen if I shared emotions with someone else?"

Sam stared at his brother. "You're kidding." Dean did not respond. Feeling a little desperate, he asked, "Right?"

"It looks like I'm not the only one who needs to watch his emotions," Dean replied, his voice flat as he reached for the door handle. "At least until I learn how to screen them."

Sam stared after his brother, who let himself out of the car. He watched Dean disappear into the diner, not really knowing how he was supposed to feel about that. Empathy. Of all the freaky powers he could get, why did he have to be burdened with empathy?

Sam stepped out of the car, stretching in the afternoon sunlight. At first he thought the empathy was kind of a good thing, because it meant he could tell what his brother really felt about things. Later it was more of a nuisance. Regardless of how Dean might feel about a situation, his stubborn brother was going to do what he thought he had to do. Really, it just made some things more difficult. And now he knew just how screwed up his brother really was. Dean really believed he deserved all the bad things that Life threw at him, which was absurd. Yeah, empathy came from the Other Side, that was for sure.

"So how much longer until we hit Seattle?" Dean asked.

Sam reigned in any smart-ass comments. "How far are we?"

"Twenty five and a half miles," Dean replied instantly. Sam figured Dean was a human road map now. As if their lives weren't creepy enough all ready.

"How fast are you driving?" Sam asked patiently, keeping in mind that whole need to maintain control over his emotions.

Dean glanced down, as though he had a difficult time remembering that. "Sixty."

"Less than half an hour," Sam replied.

"Cool. Hungry?" Dean tapped his fingers against the wheel as he drove.

"Dean, we just ate like two hours ago." Sam stared at his brother. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Dude, if I wasn't, I wouldn't be hungry," Dean protested. "Now would I?"

Sam drummed his fingers on his knees. "No, I guess not."

"So why did you ask?" Dean even turned down the music. Oh, crap.

Sam shrugged even though he knew Dean would not look at him. "You just seem to be eating a lot. Or do your jobs seem to center on places to eat?"

"It's not about a job," Dean said. They rode in silence for a minute. "Okay, maybe there's a little job there."

"What are we talking about?" Sam asked. "Some personal crisis? Another lost dog?"

"You know," Dean's voice took on that patient tone, "you make it sound stupid."

"Well…" Sam hated to say this, but he felt he needed to. "It is stupid, Dean. I mean, I can't understand why you would have these powers, abilities, just to find lost dogs and burp babies. It's stupid! It – it – it's wasteful!"

"Wasteful?" Dean cleared his throat. Sam knew he crossed a line when his brother pulled off the road. Dean centered those green high-beams on him, and his eyes definitely had that glow. "Weren't you the one who prayed every day? Who insisted on believing in a higher power? In good being in the world to balance out the evil we see all the time?"

Sam nodded. "That's my point, Dean! This is wasting your new abilities. I really don't understand." He used his eyes to plead with his brother. He wanted to understand.

He expected Dean to lash out, to react angrily. Instead Dean slouched in the seat, thinking. "I don't really understand it either, Sammy. But I think it's important. I feel like it is." He expelled a breath, shaking his head. "I hope it is," he mumbled.

The last words dug deep, piercing Sam's conscience. "Dean, I didn't mean it like that."

Dean reached out, put his car back in drive. Sam pushed out with his mind and emotions, trying to find what his brother felt or thought now. Nothing. Damn it, he was shut out. "Dean?"

"I'll just be a minute, Sam," he said softly. "You can wait in the car."

Sam looked around. They were in the parking area of a small greasy diner. Dean got out of the car with a glance back and headed inside. Sam got out, stretched. He lounged against the car, wondering how often he would have to wait on Dean to do his new 'thing.'

"Could be quite a bit."

Sam rolled his eyes, not bothering to turn around. "Geez, Michael, now what?"

"Is that any way to talk to an archangel?" Michael asked.

Sam cast another gaze across the diner, looking for Dean, before turning around. "When he's being a pest? Yes. It is."

Michael frowned at him. "I take it you think your brother can protect you from me?"

"Protect me?" Sam wondered if insanity happened to angels, too. "Why would I need protection from you?"

Michael passed over the question with a wave of his hand. "Actually, I came to bring you good news. We think we can reverse what happened to Dean."

Sam stumbled back a step. "Why? I mean, you said he was doing a good job. Is it because it's a stupid job?"

Now Michael's eyes flared bright blue for a moment. "Stupid job? Morale?"

"Dean's not that big on morals," Sam pointed out quickly.

"Not morals," Michael snapped, gritting his teeth, "I said morale. You know, as in keeping people happy."

Sam mentally kicked himself for that one. Wasn't he supposed to have a good vocabulary? He decided to blame it on spending too much time with Dean and watching porn. Porn did not require much vocabulary. As a matter of fact, some of it didn't even require a script. Sam shook the base thoughts from his mind.

"What do you mean? Dean is your morale officer?" Sam asked, trying really hard not to imagine his brother inside chatting up a girl in a skimpy barmaid outfit. God, was he getting horny?

"Unless we can reverse what happened to him, yes," Michael replied.

"So why are you telling me? Why not just go tell Dean? I'm sure he'll do almost anything to…" Sam's voice trailed off. Sure, Dean would probably do almost anything to get out of this; almost being the key word. He had a funny feeling he knew why Michael approached him and not Dean. "He has to back down to you, right?"

Michael nodded.

Sam sighed, running fingers through his hair. "I'll talk to him, but that's all I can promise."

"Tell him it's the best alternative I could come up with," Michael said as he faded from sight, "that might help convince him."

Sam leaned back against the black fender. Convince Dean to back down to Michael? Man, why couldn't they just lay one of Hercules' labors on him? At least he'd know the answer to one of those.