I just can't get over the response to this story. Thank you all so much. You make me very happy. This chapter has a few choice words so be warned. I hope you like it.

Cindy

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Dean had been driving around for several hours, a myriad of thoughts running through his head. The thoughts bounced around from horror at what he had done to Sam, to resentment and hatred of Sam. His head had begun to throb, so he decided to pull over for awhile. He found himself at the outskirts of town near a small lake.

Dean pulled into a parking area and got out of the car. He headed to a picnic table near the lake and sat on the bench. He rested his head in his hands then brushed his hands through his hair. He was going crazy, that was the only explanation. Why else would he have such dark thoughts running through his head? Why else would he try to kill the most important person to ever exist in his life? The one he swore to protect above all others. The one who in spite of everything that had been cruelly handed to him in his life, had retained an innocence and goodness that defied all logic.

How could he protect Sam now? How could he protect him, when it was Dean himself that Sam needed protection from? This was all sorts of messed up, and Dean was at a complete loss as to what to do. The dark thoughts kept trying to push through and Dean was terrified that he would hurt Sam again. Maybe even succeed in killing him.

Dean came to the conclusion that he and Sam needed to separate, at least until he figured this all out. He needed to keep Sam safe and if he was the threat, then Sam needed to be away from him. He would send Sam to stay with Bobby until this all blew over. Bobby would keep him safe.

Dean now knew what he had to do, but couldn't bring himself to face Sam just yet. Sam wouldn't understand, would say there had to be another way. Dean felt it in his soul that he was a danger to Sam, and he would protect him at all costs, even if it meant being apart. The thought of it tore him up inside, and he knew that Sam would be devastated, but it needed to be done.

Dean slowly shuffled to the impala and slid into the seat. He rested his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. Within minutes he was asleep, his slumber disturbed by terrifying dreams. His mother, father, Jess, Pastor Jim, Caleb and a number of nameless faces flashed through his mind. All dead because of the yellow eyed demon. And the one thing linking all the dead to the demon was Sam.

When Dean awoke, he was surprised, as it appeared to be late afternoon. He hadn't realized he was that tired. The dreams had ended, but their message was firmly etched in his mind. Dean started the impala and pulled out of the parking area. He headed toward town, to the motel where Sam was waiting for him.

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Sam was frantic. When Dean had left, instructing Sam to rest, he had said he would be back soon. Well, try as he might, sleep had been impossible. Sam had kept busy on the computer for awhile, but his head wasn't in it. So he had spent the day pacing then flipping channels, then back to pacing again. Now it was 6:30 in the evening and Dean still hadn't returned. Sam's thoughts had run the gamut of possible scenarios for Dean's absence. Was he hurt somewhere, needing help? Was he dead? Or did he just run off, leaving Sam to figure things out on his own? Sam lost count of how many times he had tried Dean's phone, every call going straight to voicemail.

Sam made the decision to go snag a car and look for Dean. As he was walking out the door, the impala pulled into the parking lot. Sam stopped at the door and waited for Dean to park and get out of the car. "Where you going Sam?" Dean asked, walking up and looking into Sam's eyes.

"I was coming to look for you," Sam replied, turning and re-entering the motel room.

"Sorry Sam, time got away from me," Dean quipped as he followed Sam into the room.

"Shit Dean! You scared the crap out of me!" Sam cried, a little bewildered at Dean's attitude.

"Look, I had a lot to sort out. I've come up with a solution though."

"Yeah? What is it?" Sam asked, sensing he wasn't going to like what Dean had to say.

"Well, the only thing that makes sense is for you to go to Bobby's for awhile, just until I can figure this out," Dean said, glancing sideways at Sam.

"What! No Dean! I'm not leaving you. We can figure this out together!" Sam cried.

"And what if I hurt you again Sam?"

"You won't! We'll figure something out!"

"Like what? You going to tie me to the bed? Or maybe you can lock yourself in the bathroom and sleep in the tub!" Dean shouted, turning his angry gaze on Sam.

"I don't know Dean, but I just feel that if we separate, something bad will happen. I don't want to go to Bobby's. I want to stay with you!"

Dean gave a short laugh, turning his back to Sam. "That's just like you Sam."

"What? What's just like me?" Sam asked, noticing a slight change in Dean's voice.

"It's always about what you want. You are the most selfish ass I have ever known! Why does it always have to be about you? Huh?" Dean hissed.

"Dean, what are you talking about? It's not always about me! I only want what's best for you," Sam said, confusion laced in his voice.

Before Sam knew what happened, Dean spun around and slammed him against the wall, his eyes seeing stars from the impact his head made. Dean pinned Sam to the wall by pushing his arm across Sam's throat. Sam grabbed Dean's arm, trying to loosen his grip. "Dean, I...hard to breathe," Sam gasped, his eyes pleading with his brother.

"You know Sam, I was trying to be nice. I was trying to spare your sensitive little feelings, but you know what? Screw your feelings! I've been protecting your feelings my whole fucking life. Not anymore!" Dean seethed, his breaths coming out in hot gasps.

"Dean, please...I can't breathe!"

Dean loosened his grip a little and Sam drew in a painful breath.

"You know Sam, you've been right this whole time, but I've talked you out of it and you know why? For Dad. He said to watch out for you and I have. My entire life I've been watching out for you and your pathetic feelings. But no more! It's time you knew."

"Knew what Dean?" Sam whispered through his burning throat.

"Mom, Dad, Jessica, Pastor Jim, Caleb. Oh, and don't forget all the other unfortunate people along the way. They are all dead because of you!"

"Wh...what? No Dean, it was the demon," Sam cried. His knees felt weak and he knew he would have fallen if it hadn't been for Dean pinning him to the wall.

"And just who does the demon want Sam!? YOU!! That's who. I've lost everyone Sam! And why? Because you were born! If you hadn't been born, the demon would have never been in my life. Mom and Dad would be alive and I would have a fucking life!" Dean glared into Sam's distraught eyes, laughing at the tears that were cascading down his cheeks.

"Dean, please, don't say that. Please?" Sam pled, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

"Shut up Sam! You're nothing but a whiny, spoiled little baby. I hate you Sam and I always have. I want you to pack your bag and leave!"

"No Dean! You don't mean that! This isn't you! I love you Dean. Please don't do this!"

Dean pushed his arm harder onto Sam's throat, his fury boiling over. "If you don't leave, I will kill you Sam," he hissed, then let go of Sam, letting him drop to the floor, gasping for air. Sam curled into a ball, coughing and gagging before his breaths finally started coming more easily.

"Get up Sam!" Dean demanded, giving Sam's leg a kick.

Sam slowly pulled himself up from the floor, his hand nursing his aching throat. His eyes never left Dean, searching for any sign of the brother he loved. All he saw were hate filled eyes glaring at him.

"Dean...please."

"Pack your bag Sam."

"Please don't do this."

"I hate you Sam."

A sob escaped Sam, and he began gathering his meager belongings together, then stuffed them into his duffel bag. His whole world had just come crashing down around him. The brother that he loves more than life hates him, blames him. Dean was right, he should never have been born. Of course he always knew this, but Dean had always convinced him otherwise. Now Dean was telling him what he really thought. All this time, Dean hated him, pretending to love him because Dad wanted it.

"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam whispered softly.

"Just get the fuck out!" Dean spat.

Sam slowly opened the door, the cold evening air blasting him. He turned once more to Dean, his eyes pleading. "I love you Dean. Always have, always will."

"I hate you," Dean said emotionlessly.

Another sob escaped Sam, and he turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the night.

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Okay, so that's it. What do you think? I know, I'm so mean! More tomorrow. Take care all.

Cindy.