A/N a little bit more h/c. The boys are trying to find a middle ground.

Thanks for the reviews. I'm behind again!!!! mary xx

Sam had been in full-on mother hen mode for over a week and Dean's progress had been slow and frustrating.

The two combined had the older Winchester chewing on his last straw.

He was still tired all the time. He was up and finally some what mobile but he still couldn't grip anything properly with his hands and it was killing him. He was reduced to wearing sweats as he couldn't fasten jeans. Sam had to do almost everything for him, from cutting up his food to feeding him it. Food therefore had now become sandwiches and burgers as he could at least hold these long enough to eat something without Sam having to intervene.

He'd escaped Hell but felt that he had been dropped somewhere much worse at times, Sam's care. His brother meant well and Dean was grateful, he was, for every single thing that Sam had done for him in the past week, but it was getting to the smothering stage. And it was driving him slowly crazy. All of the things he did to relax he couldn't do, eat, fix the car, drink a beer, clean the guns, sex. He was either too clumsy or too damn tired to last the pace.

All that on top of the fact that Dean had never had anyone having to or trying to attend to his every need before and he hated having to surrender control. Even to Sam.

He was standing in the kitchen contemplating just what he was capable of making to eat when his brother arrived back with an arm full of messages.

"Hey, your up!" Sam greeted him cheerfully and dumped the bags on the counter. "Want me to make you something to eat?"

Dean frowned. "I was thinking that I'd try to make myself something."

"Really? I can do it, it's no problem." Sam was picking things out of the bags, gripping them and putting them into the fridge or the cupboards. Dean suddenly found himself full of an unfounded jealousy that his brother took for granted being able to do the things which Dean couldn't for now.

"You alright?" Sam had somehow moved to in front of him and Dean realised that he had zoned out for a minute.

"Yeah." He needed out now, before he took his annoyance at his lack of ability out on the one person that didn't deserve it. "I need some air. Think I'm gonna go see if there's anything that I can do for Bobby."

Sam watched his brother walk away, his gait still awkward and slow and he sighed. He knew that he was driving Dean crazy just as much as his brother not being properly mobile was or being unable to do the little things like grip a fork or hold a beer was. He was trying to back off but that was at odds with his promise to himself to help Dean, physical help being the only thing that his brother would allow because he didn't have an option. Dean sure as hell wasn't going to sit down and talk.

Sam stopped, holding onto the counter and watching his brother lean on the car that Bobby was working on. He grabbed his purchase from the bottom of the bag and cleaned it. Then he emptied a cold beer into it and grabbed a bottle for himself and Bobby before heading outside.

Dean turned as he heard the old screen door screech on its hinges and watched as his brother walked towards him, juggling a large glass and two bottles.

"Here." Sam thrust the glass at his brother. "Thought this might be easier and more manly for you than me holding the bottle or you drinking beer through a straw."

Dean reached his hand out, slipping his fingers through the large handle on the old style beer glass, and took it from Sam. "Where the heck did you get that?"

"Bought it in the old junk shop down on the main street." He held out the beer to Bobby and they settled down on three crates, the sun warm on their backs.

Dean still had to use two hands to steady the glass, one cupping its base as he lifted it, but the smile that creased his face when he'd managed a drink made Sam's three hour search to find a glass that Dean could actually hold, worthwhile. "You like?"

"It's awesome." Dean's grin widened, his earlier annoyance at his brother forgotten. "Thank you." It wasn't much in the grand scheme of things but he'd take any victory he could get at the moment.

"Why'd you think you're still havin' so much trouble with your hands?" Bobby turned to look at both boys as he spoke.

"That's easy," Dean grumbled. "Because as much as I'm grateful to him, Gabriel is a twisted son of a bitch that likes to mess with people." He put down the glass and held out his hands. "Me not being able to use these properly is his way of doing that."

"Cas said it would be more with you remembering what happened to you in Hell." Sam suddenly piped up. "What did they do to your hands that's causing them to take longer to heal?" He turned to his brother questioningly.

Dean hesitated just to long for Sam not to pick up on it. "I don't know." He tried not to remember the feel of the knife cutting into his flesh, into the bone. Still he flinched at the bolt of pain that ran down into his fingers before he locked the memory down as best he could.

"Right." Sam stood. "You want to help me wash the car?" He changed the subject knowing that Dean wasn't going to tell them anything, had known really before he asked. "I got you something to make it easier," he teased his brother in a direct effect to lighten the mood again.

Dean took the bit and ran with it. "I dread to think."

Sam disappeared to get his other find of the day and Dean slumped back against Bobby's workbench that the crate he was on was up against.

"He's trying to help you know. You need to let him in this time Dean. Don't screw it up again. This is your second chance too, you know?" Bobby patted his shoulder and stood, heading back to the car he'd been fixing.

When Sam returned he was carrying a bucket and wash mitts. "They're lambs wool, so that they don't scratch the paintwork." He gave Dean one and watched as his brother slid it on and held up his hand.

"I look like a Q-tip." Dean moaned with a smile.

Sam laughed. "Just get on with it." He dipped his own one in the water and walked round to start the other side of the car, Dean mirroring his action and starting on his own side.

"Nice idea. Just make sure that you don't miss anything. There will be an inspection later you know."

"God help me, I'm going be out here all day then until it's done to your satisfaction. " Sam flicked some water at his brother's head.

"Don't even go there. I might not be able to lift the bucket, but I'm sure that I can get your head down into it." Dean grinned across the roof and then disappeared down to wash the side.

Walking round Sam dipped his mitt in the water and went to go back to work when his brother's free hand stopped him. Dean's stance screamed uncomfortable and for a second Sam thought that he'd hurt himself.

"They cut them off." Dean dipped the mitt in the water and then turned back to the car. "My hands, they cut them off. I think that's why I'm having problems with them."

Sam stood, too shocked at first to react, watching as his brother crouched down and went back to washing the car.

"I beat the sons of bitches." Dean turned just his head to face Sam. "No way in hell that I'm gonna let them win the end game, this is not how it's always gonna be." His voice broke a little, some small piece of doubt trickling into it. "I'm not gonna let it be."

Sam stepped towards him and Dean turned back to the car. The younger brother crouched down behind his sibling. "Your right except for one thing."

Dean turned slightly not facing Sam but putting his brother into his eye line. "One thing?"

Sam swallowed down all the pain he felt at his brother's statement and nodded. "We're not gonna let it be." With that he slapped Dean's shoulder with the hand covered in the wash mitt, soaking him and breaking the moment.

"You bitch!" Dean used the car to get to his feet as his brother danced away from him. "You're lucky that I don't have my grove on, 'cos if I did, your head and the bucket would have a date."

Sam dipped his glove back in the water and soaked Dean for the second time.

"That's it. It's on." He started after his brother, cursing Sam's long legs and his own limitations. After two trips of the junk yard trying to catch him, he gave up, slumping against the car in defeat just as Sam came dancing back.

"That all you got?" Sam asked in jest.

"Yeah. I'm beat." Dean grinned up at him. "Guess you need to finish the car up on your own now, smart ass. Help me up."

Sam reached for the hand and then squeaked as Dean hit him full in the face with the soaking wet mitt he had on the other one. The mitt that he'd dipped in the bucket before he'd sat down.

"Son of a bitch." Sam spat the water out as he spoke.

Dean leaned back against the car and laughed. "Payback always is." He slipped the mitt off and started for the house. "Make sure that you don't miss any of her, and no streaks!," he called back. "I'm gonna check you know."

"I know."

Sam set about his task content that he had just made some progress on another one.