Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural (and after seeing a couple of pictures the last few days I regret that even more)

The Demon Drink

Dean decided to first retrace his own steps. Since Sam had been attacked outside the motel, it made sense to find out where he had come from in order to establish what had happened to his little brother. As a result, his first stop was the kindly old man who owned the motel.

"So sorry to hear that its your brother who was attacked, and right here in my parking lot, terrible business, just terrible." The old man said with distaste.

"Have you got any security cameras or anything that might have seen who did it?" Dean asked, and the man pondered a little.

"Actually, the old security camera still runs tapes, but it takes a while for them to play out. I'll check when it runs out and give it to you as soon as you're done. You working with the police?" he asked, and Dean nodded quickly.

"Yeah sure, I want to find who did this to my brother. Speaking of, when was the last time you saw him last night?" Dean asked, and the old man stroked his chin in thought.

"Hmm, let me think...just about eleven o'clock, he asked me where the local bar was, I assume he was looking for you, he thanked me and left, I assume to go and meet you there." He said, and Dean nodded in thanks.

"Cheers. Try and get that video for when I get back." He said, and headed into town.

Right, Sam had left the motel at the back of eleven. According to what the police had said, he had been attacked at around two, so that left four hours unaccounted for, and Dean doubted he would have gone into the bar and waited that long for Dean. No, he must have done something else in the intervening time, Sam wasn't a heavy drinker like he was. Bitterly lamenting that him being a heavy drinker is what had gotten them into this mess, he looked around the centre of town.

It was a small town, Dillimore. Along with the bar, which was at the end of a long road as if someone had added it on as an afterthought, there were only a few other businesses. There was the police station which made it stand out from the usual haunts he and Sam visited but that was about it. The hospital was halfway to the next town. There was a gas station. Would Sam go there? There were only a few places he might have actually gone before coming to find Dean in the Welcome Pump Bar. The gas station, which had a small sort of cafe section added onto the side, was one such location. There was also a general store which would make sense if he had doubled back to the room before coming to find Dean. And there was also a barbers, but he highly doubted Sam would have been in there even if it had been open. As it stood, either the general store or the gas station offered the best bet as to where he had been.

Dean headed for the store, eyeing everyone. As far as he know from the local press, the strangest thing that had happened in the town was a farmers sheep somehow getting into the furniture store, but that didn't speak of anything demonic going on. There had been no deaths in the last two weeks, and the only attempted murder was Sam's. So, what were they dealing with? Was something supernatural going on or was Sam a victim of normal humans?

Either way, Dean would be relentless.

Entering the store, he saw only a few locals rifting through the shelves, so Dean went straight to the cashier, a middle aged woman with her hair in a loose bun and who had a matronly feel about her.

"Excuse me, I wonder if you can help. My brother was attacked last night, and I'm trying to find out what happened to him. Did you see him last night?" he asked, and considering the store was open twenty four seven.

She pulled on her glasses and looked at the picture Dean presented to her, and she nodded.

"Yes, I remember him. Ever so polite. He was looking for things to combat a hangover by the looks of what he bought, bottles of water, settlers, toothpaste, that sort of thing. So he's the poor lamb who was attacked last night, doesn't deserve it. Will he be alright?" she asked kindly, and he nodded.

"He will be." He said, his tone broaching no argument, though he was struggling to hide his own doubts.

"Are you with the police or are you dabbling in individual investigation?" she asked sternly, and he sighed, looking at her pleadingly. This was Sam's job, winning over uncooperative women, one look from his puppy dog eyes and they were generally as helpless as Dean was when Sam used them on him.

"Look, my baby brother was nearly murdered. It's my job to protect him and I failed. I just want to find who did this to him, that's all, surely you can understand that?" he wheedled, and she nodded after a pause.

"I suppose so. But no playing the vigilante, my husbands the chief of police here, and we don't take kindly to outsiders going off on their own little quests for revenge. But yes, he was here. Hmm, a little after eleven, just as I was closing up. He asked me if there were any places he could get something to eat at that time, so I sent him to the cafe in the station." She recounted, ticking things off on her fingers.

"Ok, thanks that really helps. Hope to see you again." Dean said, and headed out of the shop.

So, Sam had left the motel around eleven, and had gone to the shop to get stuff for what he must have assumed was Dean's inevitable hangover. Smiling slightly at his brother trying to look after him, Dean wondered. Had Sam taken the stuff back to the room? If so, Dean hadn't seen it this morning, and if it was there and he just hadn't seen it, boy was he wishing he had seen it now. He would check when he got back to the room. For now, he had to check the gas station cafe.

So, he was beginning to get a clearer picture of events. Sam had left the motel, most likely to come and find him. He had went to the store to get medicine for Dean's hangover the next morning, and apparently headed to the cafe. So, in that time, had Sam gone back to the motel room to put the medicines back, or had he gone straight to the cafe?

"Excuse me, could you tell me if my brother was in here last night? Only he was attacked last night and I'm trying to find out what happened to him." Dean explained.

The bulky red headed man nodded musingly to himself, flipping an egg as he did so, and the smell of it made Dean feel slightly sick. Turns out he still wasn't completely recovered after all.

"Yeah, he was in here last night. Said the wifi in his room was lousy, so got himself a coffee and stayed here for an hour abouts, then said he was headed home before he went to pick up his 'piss head brother' I believe he called him...and I've just realised that was you wasn't it?" the man asked sheepishly, and Dean glowered. If Sam woke up, he would get an earful for calling him that. Piss head indeed.

"Ok thanks." Dean said, leaving the cafe behind.

Right, Sam must have gone home to drop off the stuff. Which meant he could have made himself feel better this morning if he'd bothered to check. He would kick himself for that one later, at the moment he was still kicking himself for letting this happen to Sam in the first place. So, Sam had come home around the back of twelve then, dropped off the stuff and must have gone back to the bar, where he must have found Dean. Dean swore at himself. If he hadn't drunk so much last night, he might be able to remember his brother coming into the bar, and then he wouldn't be taking so long to find out what had happened to his brother. While Sam ought to be safe at the hospital, an unpleasant thought just struck him. Leviathans were known to frequent hospitals. And Dean had left Sam there, all beaten and broken, without any protection, all because he had been too wasted to look after his baby brother. What if there were Leviathans in town, and he had left Sam to them if they were there. Why hadn't he thought of that before? They knew full well the Leviathans were after them, why hadn't it occurred to him that Sam might be in danger from them? Cursing himself for his stupidity, he pulled out the phone and quickly dialled the hospital. He couldn't keep drinking like this. It was affecting his ability as a hunter, and more importantly, big brother, so much so that he couldn't do either job properly. How could he get so bad? He knew better than this. He also knew beating himself up about it wasn't going to help any, but it made him feel a little better about himself by mentally berating himself.

He could just hear Bobby giving him a telling off in the back of his mind.

"So what, you going to sit there and feel sorry for yourself? Family makes mistakes Dean. Remember when you decided you didn't want Sam to be your brother anymore because he finished off starting the Apocalypse? I was ready to kick your ass, it was like I was seeing yer father come back right before my eyes. That's the sort of jerk move he'd have done, which if he'd told you boys anything could easily have been avoided. Family don't always make you a pie to come home to boy! They make mistakes. This time was your turn. You screwed up and Sam got hurt. Now, you aint gonna let it happen again, so stop your pity party and feeling sorry for yerself, get your ass in gear, get your head in the game and find out who attacked yer brother ya idjit!"

Dean smiled slightly at the thought of Bobby's rant. Even dead, he would probably still kick his ass for letting this happen to his little brother.

"Thanks Bobby." He whispered silently, and suddenly felt a chill on his shoulder, but shrugged it off as the hospital answered.

"Hi, this is Dean Winston, I just want to check on my brother Sam." He said, and after a small wait, the doctor came onto the phone.

"Hello Dean. He actually seems to be doing a little better, his breathing is getting easier and there was activity beneath his eyes not long after you left. And I've had the rest results back, he has no internal bleeding, I'm just waiting for the MRI scan result to come back. Would you like me to call you when it does?"

"Yeah that would be great, thanks."

Dean entered the room, feeling slightly heartened. There was still something going on inside his brother's head, so that was a good sign. Mind you, in its own way it could also be bad news because Lucifer could be whittering in Sam's ear, and that wasn't good. And there was still the fear that there could be Leviathans around, despite how small a town Dillimore was. Dean entered the room, his head still pounding, and promptly laid his eyes on the bag of items Sam had brought in the night before. Cursing his own stupidity even more than he had done all morning, he quickly popped two aspirin and began opening Sam's computer. Maybe this could help him narrow down the time as well, see exactly what had happened in the blank space he was missing. Grumbling about his own stupidity, unclear even to himself whether he meant what happened to Sam or not seeing the medicine earlier, he began looking through the laptop. However, he was a big brother, and he did have access to his little brother's laptop, so what was the harm in having a little fun? After changing Sam's desktop to a picture of Finn from Glee (knowing how much his brother detested the show), and also changing Sam's screensaver to say 'DeanSam', and 'Dean rocks', he set about investigating what Sam had been investigating the night before. He spent over an hour going through the sites Sam had accessed, and saw nothing to indicate the town had anything supernatural going on inside it. No one had had so much as a cold for the last three months...at least until last night and some scumbag had tried to murder his little brother.

So, no signs of anything supernatural. That didn't mean they weren't there. After all, the day before Cold Oak nothing supernatural had been in the mart where Sam had been abducted from, and look how that had turned out. But Dean had also gotten no weird vibes from anyone in town.

"So who did this to you Sammy? Because I'm beginning to think it was a human nasty. And when I'm through with them, they won't even be able to come back as a ghost." He growled menacingly, ignoring the fact that he was talking to himself.

The last time Sam had entered a site on his laptop had been just before one. So, it stood to reason that after that, Sam must have headed to the bar to pick up Dean, so that's where Dean would go and hopefully then find out some answers. It was driving him mad. He had been at this all day, and he was no closer to finding out who had attacked Sam. Nothing in the town seemed out of place, no one would have had any reason to attack him, so if he went along with the theory that it had indeed been a drunken attack or mugging, the attacker had to have left some traces somewhere. Someone would have seen something, or heard something surely. Mind you, these towns were odd places at times, and some people could be quite hostile to outsiders, and if that was what happened, they might try to finish the job before Sam woke up and gave the police information they couldn't ignore. Dean sighed. He would check out the bar, see if that led anywhere, and if not, after that all he could do was hope the old man came through with the recordings, and hopefully before the police got their hands on them. And if that didn't work, Dean would tear the town apart with his bare hands if that was what it took to find out who hurt Sam and protect him.

Entering the bar a few minutes later, the landlady, a tall attractive older woman with curly iron grey hair looked at him in alarm.

"Please tell me you're not here for a drink, you nearly bankrupted me last night." She said, though was smiling slightly.

'"Yeah, sorry about that. How much did I drink anyway, I was dying this morning." He complained, and she counted the list off on her hands.

"Five beers, twelve whiskeys, three vodkas, one brandy, and once your brother showed up to take you home, you had two more whiskeys before you left, three shots of sambucca and three shots of Aftershock, its a wonder you're not in the hospital." She said, looking at him musingly.

Dean blanched. No wonder he had been dead to the world, drinking all that there was a chance he could have been dead.

"No, I'm not in the hospital, but my little brother is. Can you remember when he showed up?" he asked, and she thought, a look of concentration on her face.

"It was about half twelve. He came in, you were playing pool, rather drunkenly but still rather well I might add and he seemed to be worried about you. He asked you to go home and you shoved him away. He rolled his eyes and he had a beer or two, and when you came over, your mood had totally changed and you were really happy to see him all of a sudden. He convinced you to have the sambuccas," she explained, and Dean made a mental note to kill Sam when he was better, the little sod knew sambucca gave Dean an awful headache, "seemed to enjoy it too, and then you had yourself a few more drinks before I started closing up and he finally convinced you to go home." She said, and Dean frowned.

"So when did he arrive?"

"Just after one. You left just under an hour later. You were being, well, difficult I suppose." She said, wincing as she did so, and he looked at her for an explanation.

"What do you mean difficult?" he demanded.

"Well you didn't want to go back, even though I was closing, you kept saying you wanted to stay. You kept shoving your brother away, telling him to leave you alone, but he was quite insistent. He eventually managed to get you to go out, but you were very bitter about it, muttering angrily and making a pain of yourself quite frankly."

Shame filled Dean's stomach. Sam, as always, had only been trying to help, and Dean had reacted as he usually did when he had had too much to drink, like a complete jackass.

"I didn't hurt him did I?" he asked meekly, and she shook her head.

"No, but you were being horrible to him, you told him that you didn't need him, that you could manage without him. You kept pulling away, telling him to go and ruin someone else's life. I know it was the drink talking, but he did seem a little upset by what you were saying." She said apologetically, and Dean felt sick with shame. What sort of brother was he if he told Sam stuff like that, no matter how drunk he was?

"Did anyone seem interested in Sam, anyone who might have had a reason to hurt him?" Dean asked, eager to find who had harmed his brother.

"Your brother, no. The truckers you were playing pool against were mad at you though, you might have been pissed but you still took a lot of their money. They were about to start throwing punches I think when your brother basically started to drag you towards the door." She explained, and Dean frowned. Truckers who he had ticked off. Could they have attacked Sam as revenge against him? It seemed a pretty pointless, trivial and brutal way to get back at Dean just for making them lose a couple of hundred bucks, but you never could tell. But something wasn't quite right, and he couldn't put his finger on it.

"These truckers, any of them seem different from usual?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"No, they all get a little grouchy after beer starts flowing. They were mad yes, but they wouldn't hurt your brother. They might have smacked you, but not your brother if that's what you're thinking." She said sharply, and Dean nodded.

"I know. I was just wondering if you knew where they hang out, so I can ask them if they saw anyone around us on the way home, which would have been what time by the way?" he asked, and she cast her memory back.

"Just after two he finally got you out and bound for home. The truckers usually hang out at the pay and spray down the road, that's where you'll find them." She advised, and Dean thanked her before leaving the bar.

As he made his way to the pay and spray, Dean's thoughts were troubling. What else had he said to Sam last night? Feeling ashamed of himself he wondered how much he might have hurt his brother. Yeah Sam was a big boy, but Dean telling him that he had ruined his life might be taken the wrong way. After all, Sam had always feared that it was his fault that everything had gone wrong in their lives, and if Dean had told him that...

What the hell had happened last night? He had definitely left the bar with Sam, and Sam must have gotten him home. But how was Sam attacked? Did one of the truckers lure him outside? Who had attacked him when he was meant to be safe? Had he gone back for something and been attacked then? There were still so many questions? And Dean betted he had been a true help.

Dean knew very well that he could be a disagreeable drunk, just like their father could be. While Bobby had been a drunk a lot of the time, he had never really been that bad. Yeah he would grumble a lot and warn you to go away, but he was never that disagreeable. Dean on the other hand would moan and grumble, say things he didn't mean. Once when they had been younger, not long after their dad had died, Dean had been drunk and had brutally told Sam Jess' death was his fault. Sam hadn't talked to him for days, and when Dean finally learned of what he had said to his brother, he had felt sickened with himself, and had worked his ass off grovelling for forgiveness. What had Dean said to Sam on the way home?

Resolving to work that out later, he turned into the garage and was met by the hostile glares of the truckers.

"It's him, the one who took our cash." One trucker with scraggly hair growled menacingly.

The leader, wearing a cap and with a big grey beard, waved him down.

"Quiet boy. He won the money fair and square. He may be a braggart, but he won fair and square, so let it go." He commanded, and the other three backed down.

"Hi guys. No hard feelings about last night?" he asked hopefully, and the bearded one nodded, though he was receiving mutinous looks from the others.

"None. We believe in fairness." He said, glaring at the others.

"Good. Did you guys happen to see anyone following my brother and me last night, or anyone near us?" Dean asked, hopeful that he would finally get an answer.

"No, can't say I did. All of us came back here, so we lost sight of you just before the motel mind you, but we were behind you most of the way, and there was no one else but you and your brother." The big man recounted, and Dean frowned. That had to mean whoever attacked Sam had done it in the parking lot. But why had Sam gone back outside after getting Dean into the room?

"No sign of anyone at all?" Dean asked wheedlingly, and the big man shook his head.

"Not a soul. Dillimore's only a small town, no one but people in the bar have reason to be out after basically twelve, and even then its a stretch." He explained.

"Did any of you go back out?" Dean asked, and the scraggly haired one darted for him, his fist rising to meet Dean's face.

Dean dodged the attack and kicked the man in the gut, sending him sprawling to the ground with a curse.

"You implying we'd knock off your brother? He wasn't the jerk who took our money!" he said from the ground, but stopped trying to get back up when the big man put his foot on top of his chest, holding him down.

"Stay down," he growled, and turned to Dean, "no sorry kid, none of us went back out, and I was up till the back of three, bad back. No one left, and we didn't see anyone else either." He said, and Dean could tell that he was telling the truth.

"Ok, thanks guys." Dean said, and left the garage, heading back for the motel.

So where the hell did that leave them? Sam had taken him home, had gotten him to the room, despite Dean most likely being an obnoxious prick, and put him to bed, but had still managed to be brutally attacked to the point where he had almost died. Which could only mean he had gone back outside for some reason, but why? Had he dropped something? Surely the police would have found it when they swept the parking lot. So why had Sam gone back out? Or had they been attacked, and had Dean just abandoned Sam to his own devices? Surely he wouldn't do that, no matter how drunk he was. Sam was his baby brother, he wouldn't leave him to fend for himself in a fight even if he was wasted. So what the hell had happened?

Anger coursed through Dean. How could he let this happen? His brother had been nearly murdered, he had been looking all day and no one was any the wiser as to who had attacked Sam. And as the police hadn't called, they didn't know either. Dean wanted to find this son of a bitch and make him pay, but how could he do that when he didn't have the faintest idea as to who the hell it could be? Furious with himself and his lack of knowledge, he entered the parking lot, only to be distracted by the old owner.

"Here you are son, I've got it." He called, and Dean ran over.

"Thanks. Did you watch it?" he asked, and the old man shook his head after Dean repeated himself.

"No son, my VCR is on the blink. There's a TV/VCR in your room though, so you can put your mind at ease. Just make sure and give it back after you're done." He said kindly, patting his hand before bustling into his own room.

Dean smiled grimly. Finally, he could identify the son of a bitch who did this. So far, his best suspect was the scraggly haired trucker, but still, it didn't quite add up. Dean entered the room once more, and quickly put the video into the TV. Time to get some answers at last. Who the hell had hurt his little brother? And once he knew, nothing would stop him, he vowed to himself.

Just as the tape was getting ready to play, the phone went off.

"Hello Dean, this is Dr Cox. I've just had your brother's MRI results back from the labs. No concussion, which makes me think that after a while of taking it easy, he'll be fully recovered." The doctor said kindly, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's great. Thanks doc. I'll be by later on to see him." He said, and hung up, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Sam was going to be alright. There had been no permanent damage to him whatsoever. And from now on, things were going to change. Dean never wanted to feel this helpless again, not when it came to Sam. He had nearly lost his brother because of his drinking. That could never happen again. It was time to sober up, before he did something he truly regretted. And losing his brother would have been something he would have regretted. In fact, losing his brother would probably have ended him too. He couldn't do this alone, neither could Sam, both of them had proved that over the years. He had to change, or he could lose the only thing that kept him human too.

But firstly, he had to find the scumbag who had nearly killed his brother, and deal out a little Winchester style vengeance. Then he could focus on getting Sammy better and getting the hell out of here, and back onto the road.

He fast forwarded to right about the appropriate time. Squinting, he saw as he and Sam came onto the screen. Alright, if he and Sam were both there, who the hell had attacked them? Or had Dean acted like a drunken coward and abandoned his brother when he needed him most? Surely he hadn't.

He could see that the two of them were talking. Dean himself looked angry, very angry, and kept trying to pull away from Sam. Sam finally let go and turned to Dean, obviously talking to him normally, but it was clear that Sam too was losing his temper with his drunk older brother. He opened the door, and turned back to Dean, who was still glaring at him furiously. Sam then took a step towards his brother, looking worried, and laid a hand on his shoulder as if to guide Dean into the room, talking while he did so. And then, Dean seemed to suddenly snap. Snarling angrily, he smacked his brother in the face, sending him crashing to the ground.

Dean looked at the screen, transfixed in horror. He had hit his little brother. He watched as the camera version of himself teetered forward, while Sam looked up at him angrily. And then the beating began. Dean watched, horrified. He fell atop his brother, viciously assaulting him, time and time again, punching him, kicking him, continuing with the brutal offensive. Dean looked at himself, and didn't like at all what he saw. He saw an angry, violent drunk, yelling at his defenceless little brother, who had been so surprised by the attack that he hadn't been able to defend against him. He was worse than the worst of the violent alcoholics. Here he was, laying into his little brother viciously and without provocation, beating him nearly to death in a hateful attack that he knew instantly Sam had done nothing to deserve. He watched as Sam pleaded desperately after being kicked down the stairs and saw exactly what had happened to his little brother. After Dean had gotten bored of attacking Sam with his hand and feet, he fell atop of him and wrapped his hands around Sam's throat, and slowly began to squeeze. He watched as a broken, beaten and bloodied Sam tried to force his brother off, but it was to no avail, and Dean watched in horror as his little brother stopped struggling and went still. The image of Dean immediately let go of his neck and stood up, swaying angrily as he did so. He continued to yell abuse at Sam, and then hatefully spat on the ground next to his brother, before staggering up the stairs and slamming the room door behind him.

And while Dean had watched the entire scene, images from the night before came to his mind's eye as his alcohol ridden brain finally caught up with him. He remembered hitting Sam, sending his brother sprawling to the floor. He remembered hammering down on his little brother, time and again, in a rage filled hate driven attack, as he vented all of his own frustrations and his own failings on the one he loved the most. All the anger, all the guilt, all the pain that he had been bottling up, for years in some cases, came pouring out into the only other one who had been with him through thick and thin. He had been the one who had attacked his little brother. The one who had punched his face into a bloody mess. The one who had cracked his ribs. The one who had kicked him in the stomach. The one who had driven Sam's face into the hard gravel after kicking him down the stairs. The one who had tried his hardest to kill him.

Every negative emotion Dean had ever had, exacerbated by the vast amounts he had drunk, let out to a single target, one who was unable to defend against such a brutal assault. Dean had nearly murdered his little brother.

He remembered it all, pummelling Sam's face, kicking him down the stairs, stomping his face into the ground. And he remembered falling onto his brother, his brother's neck in his hands, and he remembered squeezing hard. He remembered Sam jerking, struggling to get Dean off, his eyes wide and desperate as he tried to free himself from the brother who was trying to murder him. He remembered Sam's weak attempts to stop Dean trying to kill him, his struggle, but it was to no avail, Dean, fuelled by anger and booze, had kept going. He remembered Sam urgently gagging for air, his voice making gagging, desperate sounds in his throat as he tried to suck in air to save himself. And he remembered his brother's wide, pleading, desperate puppy dog eyes rolling up into his skull and his eyes closing, just as his brother let go of him and stomped indoors to sleep off the alcohol.

Dean stood up and rushed to the bathroom, once more emptying the contents of his stomach, as he remembered the sight of Sam's blood covering his hands. It was Sam. Sam was the reason his knuckles were scratched. Sam was the reason his back was sore. Sam. His little brother. And he had tried his hardest to kill him, and had damn well near succeeded.

Dean retched again, the thought of Sam's blood staining his hands making him feel worse. He was the monster who had tried to kill Sam. And this time, he hadn't been possessed, entranced or anything. This time he had just been drunk and snapped. And it was his baby brother that had paid the price.

Dean continued to vomit down the toilet, the image of what he had done to his brother imprinted on his brain, giving him no reprieve.

He was the monster.

He was the one who had almost murdered his baby brother.

He was the one who had attacked Sam.

XX

In the hospital, Sam suddenly awoke, his eyes fluttering open. He felt like hell. Worse than hell actually. Ignoring Lucifer, who was currently singing 'Wake Up' by the Boo Radleys, Sam forced his brain to work, and resisted the urge to puke.

He was in the hospital.

And Dean was the onewho had put him there.

Sam fought down a heartbroken sob, while Lucifer continued to sing, taunting that his big brother really meant all he had said last night. Saying that his big brother had wanted him gone from the start. That it was his fault everyone they loved was dead.

Saying that Dean hated him enough to want to kill him.

"Shut up!" Sam cried out, the image of Dean's hate filled face filling his memory.

Dean. His big brother. The one who always made everything better, who had always been there for him.

Dean. The man who had tried, and nearly succeeded, in murdering him.

Sam sobbed, still ignoring Lucifer, who now had a dance routine to match his improvised song, as Dr Cox entered, to see his patient in tears.

His big brother had tried to kill him. He had told him exactly how much he hated him.

And then he had nearly killed him.

Sam was in the hospital, and Dean, his big brother, who he could always depend upon...

He was the one who had put him there.

And he had enjoyed it.

I know, you all hate me!

I'm sorry about who the culprit really was, I feel really bad now. But I always thought that with the way Dean's drinking was in Season 7, it was going to explode in their faces, and I always thought it would be Sam that it would explode upon, hence this story. But congratulations to Alex Megan, who cottoned on to what I was up to.

Alright, so what will happen next? And I know the Sam bit seems a bit off, but dont forget, Lucifer is prattling in his head, so how much is really what happened? What actually set Dean off? And most importantly of all, how will the boys get past this one? Theyve tried to kill each other before but never like this.

I hope to update soon (provided you don't all lynch me), and would I be pushing my luck to ask for reviews? I like seeing the nice big numbers on my inbox when i turn on my ipad. See you soon!

P.S Major kudos to anyone who knows where the town came from