Hi everyone, I'm back again. I'm home from my sister's... so I miss my really really cute nephew... (cries)

So, this chapter... I don't know, for some reason while I was rewriting it I was really bothered by something...So if it's confusing or bothersome or just strange, please bear with me. This chapter was (for reasons unknown) hard for me to rewrite, so there's gotta be SOMETHING wrong... I don't know, I really don't.

So I still don't own Supernatural... And I still can't believe that we're almost in season four! It seems like just yesterday I was watching the very first episode...

Dean sat on the side of his bed, taking off his tie and throwing it aside.

"Dean…," Sam began, a little warily. "Are you okay?"

Dean rubbed his chin. "I don't know, Sam, what do you think?!"

Sam was silent.

"I fucking murdered a four-year-old girl! How do you think I'm doing?!"

"Dean, it wasn't your fault… There wasn't anything you could've done…"

Dean turned to stare at his brother. "No, actually, that's where you're wrong. There were a million things I could've done. I could've made sure Em…Emma didn't go near Peter or his crazy daughter. I had the chance to shoot Sophie—twice—but I couldn't do it the first time and the second shot wasn't good enough. I could've held on when she kept banging my head against the floor. If I had just stayed conscious, Em…" Dean shook his head roughly. "Emma would still be alive. If I had done any one of those things, she'd still be here."

"Dean, we can't save everyone…" It had a line they used often, but once the words were out of Sam's mouth, he knew it wouldn't work.

"Don't give me that shit, Sam!"

"But—"

"Didn't you hear her?! She said that she needed me. She said…she said that she needed me… I was supposed to protect her, but I didn't!"

"Dean—"

"How the hell did I screw this up so badly? The only fucking person who needs me, and I go off and kill her!" Dean could feel his emotions really beginning to toil now.

"You didn't—"

"When I first met her, it was right after the poltergeist had killed her dad. She saw him die, you know? When I met her that first time, it was almost like she was older than just four. I don't know why she liked me so much… She always looked up to me…when there was something wrong, she'd always come to me… She was always trying to make me smile… She didn't deserve to die! I didn't even deserve to meet her! And we all know we would've been better off if I hadn't made it my job to protect her too. I'm a really crappy protector."

"No, you're—"

Dean rubbed his forehead irritably. "And now I'm going on like…like…like you, in the throes of a major chick-flick moment." He looked to the floor and tried to chuckle. "Man, I even disappoint myself. It's bad enough that I'm already a complete disappointment—"

"Dean—"

"—to you—"

"Dean—!"

"—and to Dad—"

"DEAN!"

Dean snapped out of it instantly. He clenched his fists, trying to hold the rest in. He couldn't do that anymore. But when he bottled things up so much, he couldn't help but explode. And this whole ordeal was really sending him over the edge. "Jesus, Sammy, what is it?"

"I've been trying to talk to you for the past few minutes!"

"And?"

"Dean, this isn't your fault," Sam began firmly. "There isn't anything we can do about Emma's death now. It's not your fault that Sophie knocked you out, and hell, if you had woken up a few minutes later than you did, we'd probably be dead too!"

"But if I had woken up a few minutes earlier than I did, none of us would be dead." Dean stood up, walking towards the door. I'm an idiot. If I can't even protect a little girl from a werewolf, then how am I supposed to protect Sam and Dad from the demon?

"Where are you going?" Sam blurted out as his brother opened up the door.

Dean paused, hearing the fear in Sam's voice and instantly feeling guilty. "You think I'm going to leave you…again. Sam…I'm sorry I left in the first place. It was stupid and selfish. It's just…it's just, I was scared."

"What?"

Dean clenched his fists even harder. "I knew I had to leave after you said you didn't need me. Yeah, part of it was because I just needed to be alone to think about everything… But I was afraid that… I mean, if you truly didn't need me, you would leave, wouldn't you? If there is anything in my life that I do not want to experience again…it'd be you leaving. So…I don't know, I just had to leave first. I thought it'd be easier. I just didn't want you to leave, I…I couldn't…" Dean took a deep breath and shook his head. I'm not supposed to tell Sammy this… I'm supposed to keep it to myself… Now it's like I'm forcing Sam to say that he needs me. And if it's forced it means nothing.

"Dean, I'm not gonna…"

When Sam's words trailed off, Dean paused, glancing over his shoulder to see his brother struggling for the right words. His eyes were full of guilt for making Dean even think that he'd leave.

Great, Dean, now you made him feel bad, Dean berated himself. I'll be shocked if I ever do anything right in my life. "I'm going to run out," he told Sam. He didn't feel like making this chick-flick scene any bigger than it already was. "I'll be back a little later, okay?" And before waiting for Sam to answer, Dean left.

It was early next morning when Sam stirred from his sleep. After their conversation yesterday, Dean had gone out, and came back a few hours later with a plastic bag. He had then gone out again and hadn't come back.

When he left without a word for the second time, Sam took the opportunity to peer into the bag that Dean had brought back. Hmm, he had thought, frowning. The bag was full of all the stuff anyone would ever need if they wanted to clean their car. Sam wondered when Dean would find the time to do that.

But when he woke up this morning, he found Dean's bed empty once again. Sam blinked tiredly. It can't be that early if Dean's already awake, he mused, before going into the bathroom and taking a quick shower.

When he was done, he felt much more awake. He took a look at the time and almost fell over.

5:47 AM.

Now why would Dean be up at this hour? Dean was definitely not much of a morning type. Sam was worried that maybe his brother hadn't gotten any sleep. He had seemed pretty restless for…well, Sam wasn't sure for how long. A while now, probably.

Sam spotted the car keys on the round table in the corner of their room, relieved to know that Dean mustn't have gone very far.

Sam grabbed his cell phone, and dialed Dean's new number. He had squeezed it out of his brother only moments after they had met up again, but was warned about calling too many times in a row—which, apparently, would result in Dean changing his number again.

"Yeah?" Dean's voice answered.

"It's a quarter to six. Where the hell are you?"

"Dude, chill. I'm right outside, in the parking lot. I haven't gone anywhere."

Sam drew back the curtains and looked outside, but didn't see a sign of any living soul. "I don't see you," he grumbled.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you can't see me from the window? But, hey, Sammy, do me a favor."

"What is it?"

"Pack up our stuff, okay? And check us out. It's high time we left this place."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Okay…okay… Um, but, ah, some of our stuff… It's at Patricia's house."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I picked it up earlier. It's already in the car," Dean said lightly after only a moment's hesitation. "Now hurry up, baby brother! I'm by the car, and I'm not going to wait around forever."

"Okay, I'll be right out." Sam hung up, and frowned to himself in confusion. After yesterday, he had expected Dean to be upset. After all that's happened, he expected Dean to be completely… It was just weird, because over the phone, he had sounded like his old self. As in the Dean he was months before—that is, before the demon, before the crash… He had picked up their stuff from Patricia's without any trouble, as far as Sam knew, anyway. Dean didn't seem bothered that he had to go back to that house again…

Sam quickly gathered their stuff and checked out, and then walked out to where he saw Dean waiting.

Wow, Sam thought, as he came up to his brother and the Impala. The Impala looked even better than when it had just come out of the shop. It was so clean. If Sam didn't know any better, he'd think that it was a brand new car.

I guess Dean found the time to clean the car after all, Sam thought to himself. "So, you cleaned the car," he remarked.

Dean gave him a lopsided smile. "Yeah. She looks awesome, right? See, I'm the only one who can make her look this good. Screw all those know-it-all car-wash dudes."

"It looks very…clean."

"Only the cleanest. I even got rid of some of the trash that's been in the backseat for like, ever."

Sam smiled in amusement and after putting his and Dean's stuff in the trunk, got into the passenger seat. The interior was incredibly clean as well. He was impressed.

"So when exactly did you do this?" Sam asked when Dean got into the car and started it up.

"This morning," Dean responded.

Sam creased his eyebrows. It was seeming more likely that Sam's earlier theory was sounding more logical. "Early this morning, apparently. Did you get any sleep?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, sure I did. I just wanted to leave early today, and I cleaned the car because I'm not gonna have time to do it later."

Sam licked his lips. "So, ah, did you speak with Patricia when you picked up our stuff?"

"No, she wasn't awake."

"Then how did you… Dean, don't tell me you broke in?!"

Dean chuckled. "No, smartass, I didn't break in. Patricia hides an extra key in the grill in her backyard. So technically, I didn't break in at all. I just let myself in, grabbed my stuff, and left."

"You didn't even say goodbye?"

Dean's smile wavered. "No, Sam, I didn't say goodbye. I thought that it'd probably be better if I didn't. But enough about that, okay?"

"You mean you want to pretend that it never happened." It wasn't a question. It was a statement, and a seemingly bothered one at that.

"No," Dean denied. "I'll remember. I'll remember everything that happened. I'm just over it, so there's no use bringing it up again."

Over it? Already? Oh, yeah right… I'm not an idiot, Dean, that's not gonna work, Sam thought. You're just hiding it again… You just want me to forget about it because you don't want to talk about it. Because you're not over it at all!

He threw his brother a sideways glance that was full of incredulously. Dean ignored him completely, but Sam could sense the massive amounts of bullshit radiating from this situation.

Dean sensed his suspicion and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "Something bothering you, Sammy?"

Sam paused for a long time, contemplating on what to say. "It's just…you're…you're acting like Dean."

"Last time I checked, I was Dean," Dean replied with a smirk.

"I mean… Come on, man, the last time you really acted like yourself was…was…months ago."

"Hey, a few of those months are unaccounted for, remember? I acted completely like myself when we were apart, too, okay?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Because I told you so. Oh, and I'm sure I can dig up a couple dozen phone numbers of girls who can vouch for me." Dean gave him a half smile as Sam looked at him in disgust. "I get it, Sam, you're cranky because you woke up too early. Go on, get some sleep."

"I'm not tired!" Sam exclaimed stubbornly. He wasn't tired, he was confused. His brother, doing a complete one-eighty in only twenty-four hours.

"I even disappoint myself. It's bad enough that I'm already a complete disappointment to you and to Dad…"

Dean had said that just twenty-four hours ago, Sam didn't forget. He didn't really believe that Dean would think that just because he was acting all Dean-like, Sam would forget about everything. Sam knew this whole thing was a load of crap. He knew that putting up fronts were easier than dealing with the pain, so it was obvious that this was a front—because there was no way in hell that Dean could 'get over it' in just a day. He'd have to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet—times a million.

Frowning stubbornly, but letting Dean run with it for a moment, Sam remarked, "We need to stop at a Laundromat soon, okay? All my clothes are filthy, and yours are even worse."

Dean nodded slowly. "Okay. We'll, uh, go tomorrow." He gave an awkward little smile before turning on his music.

Now tell me what you think... It was so hard and awkward rewriting this chapter, so I want to know how you received it. (I'm so strange??) And besides, Popo wants more clickies! He's extremely happy that this story has over a hundred reviews now! (As am I...obviously)

So I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up... I plan on rewriting it sometime today or tomorrow... But I don't know how long it'll take because what I have left of this story isn't enough for a whole chapter, which means I'm going to start WRITING this again! All new stuff! (for me anyway)

But you see, the big reason I don't know when the next update will be is because starting monday, I want to write a story that's been on my mind for a while now (Just a regular story, not a fan fiction), and so to write this story, I want to put everything else on hold. (Yeah, including this story). So... I'm not sure how long it will take me to write this story, so I want to save the next update that i'm working on today for a good time so it won't seem like you have to wait so long... I know, I'm horrible... But I really need to write this story before it kills me! AHhhhh!

I hope to see you soon! (I hope I hope I hope)

But hey, the more reviews I get, the more motivated I will be to finish my story faster so I can get back to you guys...I hope anyway... ah... just please review...