I know it's kind of a short chappy, but I really thought this was a good place to end it...thanks for reading and for all the really great reviews, i really live for them!! bambers;)

Chapter Forty-Four

For a moment everything was right again between the brothers. For a moment Dean was his big brother. His protector. For a mere second in time, he was once again the one person Sam relied upon the most to make everything all right.

But with a feather-soft touch of Dean's hand across his bruised and tender back, Sam's heart skipped a beat then set of at a frantic pace. Unexpected panic seized hold of him as he wildly slapped his brother's hands away, and pushed himself as far away as he possibly could without actually falling off the bed. His breath came in short panted bursts as his heart clenched painfully. Faster and faster his heart beat, his breath becoming shallower as he fought to draw in air.

"It's alright, Sammy, I gotcha," Dean tried to soothe, but Sammy pushed him away and leapt off the bed. Confusion and pain briefly registered in Dean's eyes before he masked it within a comforting smile. "He's gone, lil' brother." He took a step toward Sam with arms outstretched, in a gesture meant to reassure Sam that he would cause him no harm.

Sam moved further away, and a small escaped him as his back butted up against the wall, and he realized he was trapped. Sliding down the wall, he wrapped his arms around his head as fear took a firm, unrelenting hold of him. Cold sweat prickled at the nape of his neck, and trailed down over the healing whip marks on his back, painfully reminding him that his fears were not unfounded.

"Sammy, please," Dean's voice turned to pleading as he edged his way closer to Sam. "I swear I'm not gonna hurt you."

Sam pushed himself closer to the wall as Dean reached out to touch his arm, another frantic cry slipping from his lips as he twisted away from him. "D-Don't touch me . . . d-don't hurt me again," the words tumbled from his mouth in a breathy rush.

Dean instantly recoiled, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide the hurt and pain so clearly etched into every single line and detail of his face this time around. "I never hurt you, lil' brother, you have to believe me . . . I-I would never . . . ." his voice trailed off he he backed away from Sam. "You jus' have to believe me."

Sliding his hand into his pocket, Dean's fingers touched upon the EVP recorder with Dominic's taped confession. For several very long moments he grappled with the notion of playing the recording for Sam, but in the end he just couldn't do it. If the only way he could prove to Sam that he hadn't been the one to hurt him was by playing the tape, then he'd rather Sam go on believing whatever he chose to believe.

He needed Sam to trust him. He needed his brother to believe in him without any tangible proof other than his given word that he would never harm him. But what he saw in his little brother's terrified hazel eyes was vast insurmountable mistrust and fear. It was a look that clearly said that the bond they had once shared as brothers was now tattered and torn beyond repair.

Just let him listen to it, Dean, a small inner voice pleaded with him. If he hears it, he'll believe you. Jus' swallow your pride an' play the tape for him.

Yet, for the gnawing, unbearable ache in his heart, Dean still couldn't bring himself to share the tape with his little brother. With a curt nod, Dean slowly rose to his feet. "It's alright, Sammy, I understand," he mumble in a barely audible whisper. With head hung low in a defeated manner, Dean headed out of the cabin.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Never one to normally interfere into the personal lives of others, Bobby stood by and watched both of the younger Winchesters over the next few days, hoping against hope that they would resolve some their issues with each other. But as the days went by and things only got worse, he knew in his heart he needed to step in and knock some sense into both of them.

From the moment Dean had walked out the door after saving Sam's life, Sam had withdrawn into himself, not speaking to a single person. Still recovering from his injuries, Sam had spent a good share of his time in restless slumber. But even when he was awake, he remained stonily silent. Several times, Bobby, John or Deacon had tried to engage the ailing Winchester in conversation, but their attempts might as well have fallen on deaf ears. And although John had brought the youngest Winchester his laptop to use, it still remained untouched on the bedside table where John had left it.

As the days progressed, any spark of life left in his hazel eyes dwindled to nothingness. And the only time Bobby saw even a hint of emotion registering in them was whenever Sam's wary gaze lit upon Dean for the briefest of moments before he hastily looked away.

But for as bad off as Sam was emotionally, Bobby was more concerned about Dean. The middle Winchester had thrown himself recklessly into the hunt for the rest of Dominic's men. Bobby had always thought that Dean was a little reckless in his pursuit to please John, but now there was a desperation in the younger hunter's green eyes that Bobby had never witnessed before, and it terrified him.

Like his little brother, Dean hadn't spoken a word since he had walked out after rescuing Sam from the explosives. Bobby had silently watched the exchange between the two Winchesters, and although he could almost understand Sam's irrational fears, his heart broke for Dean who had tried to reach out to him. Despite all the damage Dominic had done to Dean, Bobby feared the killing blow had come from the youngest Winchester that night.

Although John seemed to believe if they gave Sam and Dean some time and space to deal with all that had happened to them, his boys would eventually come around, Bobby wasn't as certain. Bobby understood that it was more than likely wishful thinking on the eldest Winchester's part, but also knew the longer they allowed the two brothers to drift ever closer toward the edge of the perilous cliff they were now teetering on, the harder it would be to pull them back to safety.

Determined to try and make things right between the two Winchesters, Bobby headed out of the cabin to find Dean. As Dean spent most of his time outside away from John or Sam, either in the shed cleaning his weapons or sitting in his car doing research, Bobby didn't have a very hard time locating him. The first place he checked was the Impala, and when he didn't find Dean there, he traveled around to the back of the cabin and found the younger man in the shed. With his head lowered as he sharpened the blade of his favorite knife, Dean gave no indication that he'd even noticed Bobby standing in the doorway.

Clearing his throat, Bobby briefly gained Dean's attention before he refocused all his energy on the task at hand. It was unsettling, to say the very least, to see the young hunter so deathly quiet. In the past, the only times Dean wasn't speaking or cracking really bad jokes was when he was unconscious after a hunt gone wrong or when he was asleep.

"Thought I might find you out here," Bobby began awkwardly. "Your Dad's almost got dinner ready. Spaghetti and meatballs, one of your favorites." He hitched a thumb back toward the cabin, but let his hand fall back to his side when Dean failed to acknowledge him. "I changed Sam's bandages a little while ago, an' everything seems to be healing nicely."

Dean glanced at Bobby through lowered lashes, and gave a subtle nod as he chewed pensively at his lower lip. Then without a word, he sheathed his knife in the holster at his side, and began cleaning one of his shotguns.

After several unbearable moments of utter silence, Bobby tried to reach out to the younger hunter again. "Your Dad seems to think the rest of Dominic's men hightailed it out of here, an' probably left the state. He an' Deacon have looked everywhere for them, but they've turned up nothin' so far."

Again, Dean gave a nod of understanding as he checked and cleaned the barrel of his shotgun. Once he was certain that the weapon was in proper working order, he placed it inside his duffel bag, and picked up his .45 and meticulously set to work cleaning it.

As nothing he had said so far seemed to be getting through to Dean, Bobby decided to try another tactic to reach him. "Your brother hasn't been eating, an' he's startin' to have some really bad nightmares. Maybe you should talk to him?"

At this, Dean lowered his weapon to rest on his lap and looked up at Bobby. Such intense sadness filled Dean's green eyes as he held Bobby's gaze that he was forced to look away. "What more do you want me to do for him, Bobby? He wants me to stay away so that's what I'm doin'."

"He just needs some time, Dean. He'll come around."

Pursing his lips, Dean shook his head. "No, he doesn't, cause no matter what anyone thinks or says to the likewise, time doesn't heal all wounds. An' some wounds," he hesitated as he drew in a shaky breath, and then pushes onward, "some of them just eat away at ya an' fester until there's nothin' left."

Dean fell silent again as he finished cleaning his gun, and slipped it into his waistband behind his back. With all his weapons cleaned and checked, he zipped up his duffel bag, hooked it over his shoulder, and brushing past Bobby he headed toward the Impala.

Bobby followed, picking up his pace when he saw Dean open the car door and throw his duffel onto the passenger's seat. The younger hunter slid behind the wheel of his car, slammed the door shut and started the engine.

"Dean, where the hell are you going?" A sick, queasy feeling settled into the pit of Bobby's stomach, as he now realized what he hadn't figured out before. Dean hadn't just been cleaning his weapons, he'd been preparing himself for a hunt. He'd been so single-minded in his determination to help the younger man that it had just slipped past his attention that Dean hadn't put his knife or .45 away with the other weapons in the duffel. "You can't go after them on your own, Dean. You're in no shape to take 'em on by yourself, boy, so wait an' let me or your Dad come with you."

"No." Dean gave a quick shake of his head. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he yanked out a note and EVP recorder and handed it to Bobby. "Here, make sure Sammy gets this, an' make sure you take care of him for me," Dean muttered as he hit the gas pedal and sped out of the driveway, gravel and dust kicking up a trail in his wake.

There was such a sad note of finality in his parting words, Bobby was left with little doubt that Dean had no intension what so ever of making it back to the cabin alive. "Damn it, Dean," he swore under his breath as he pivoted on his heel and rushed inside the cabin to get John.