Sam tried to open his eyes, but it felt as if he had been sleeping for days. Had he? Crinkling his face into a grimace, he slowly prodded his eyes open. He once again was able to make out the ceiling of the motel room. As he found himself looking at his surroundings, he felt extremely well rested. At first the grogginess had taken a toll on his body, but now he feels comfortable rising to sit up. When he finally regained some sense of balance, he lifted himself up off the floor.

Was it him, or did the world seem so much brighter? He squinted his eyes and found that the once dreary room now lit up with life. Color splashing in his face.

He now noticed a presence beside him. It was tugging on his jacket. It seemed worried. He looked over and started to make out the features that belonged to this recently discovered essence beside him. It was Ruby. Her mouth was running a million miles an hour, her eyes brows quirked and squished together. He noticed her eyes lighting up and then going wide.

"Can you hear me?" She yelled in a last ditch effort to get through to the hulking man beside her.

"Yeah... sorry." His apology was quiet and not very meaningful. He scratched the back of his head, unaware yet totally aware of his surroundings. "What's going on?"

"I'd like to ask you the same question. Why were you on the ground? Don't like the comfort of a bed anymore?" She was clearly frustrated with him. She turned her back on him and started to swing her arms out, allowing her hands to brush up her hair in the process. Ruby's hands were on her hips now and she shifted her weight to one leg.

Same suddenly had the feeling he needed to get out of there. He needed to run away and find someone. But who? His eyes darted back in forth as he scanned his brain for a correct answer. And as if he was on some Saturday night game show, it clicked! Bingo! Or should he say Dean-o!

"Dean. God, I have to see Dean!" Ruby flinched a little at the word. She had since turned back around to face Sam, but he didn't take that to mind.

Before Ruby could protest further, he was half way out the door and speeding up by the second.

"Dammit." Ruby spat. "Almost had him."

Sam fumbled with the key, almost scratching up the metal in his eager rush to get inside. When the tumblers of the lock finally clicked into place, he felt happiness surge through him. Images of Dean's face danced over his head now, and for some reason they all looked extremely different then he remembers. They were bright, vivid. They expressed Deans eyes in such a vibrant color, he almost tripped into the room at the thought of them.

"Dean!" Sam was exasperated now, huffing for air, heaving his chest.

Dean sat at a lonely table in the far corner of the room. Several beer bottles laid strewn around it. On the floor and on the table. Some where even on the bed. The elder Winchester sat on the tall stool, slumped over on the small table. It look as if he going to topple over it.

"Dean?" He repeated, but this time softer and more of a question.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean slurred, his voice rough and tight. His forehead was leaning on his arm while his free arm was protectively curled around his head. This made his voice muffled. He must have gotten too hot, because he lifted up his head slowly. Dean rubbed his stubble.

Sam realized why he was in such a bad mood. Why his brother was like this. Because of him. Sam eyed the bruises he must have inflicted on him while some of his own bruises started to ache.

"Dean..." He said one last time. He started forward, but Dean's hand whipped up, stopping the younger sibling in his tracks.

"I told you..." He started to say, but he was obviously too emotional to continue the sentence. If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back, Sam finished in his head. But he smiled anyway. He had a feeling that Dean didn't mean it. He never meant those kinds of things. Family was the biggest thing to Dean. Sam should have respected that. But that damn demon blood...

Sam steeled himself for rushing urge for the blood then. He waited for the pain of withdrawal and the sting in his eyes. He half expected to feel large bags under his eyes. But nothing. This sudden awareness of how pure Sam felt must have shown on his face. His older brother now looked over him with his dim green eyes. Sam opened his mouth to share the good news, but only managed to let out, "De-" before the Dean's cellphone went off. It was his second phone and they both knew that that was someone important.

Before Dean fished in his pocket, he eyes his brother. "This isn't over." He said with a silent, you aren't getting out of it that easy, look. Sam nodded, but Dean was already turned around, shuffling across the room to his duffel. He dug up a notepad and a pen. He clicked the pen and started to scribble at the edge of the paper but it wouldn't work. He huffed, pardoned himself for a minute to find another pen. But Sam had already picked the pen up, dabbed the end of it on his tongue, and handed it to Dean.

Sam realized how close their bodies were now and he wondered if Dean was uncomfortable. Then Dean cleared his throat, nodded, and took the pen. Sam could tell he was nervous. When did Dean get nervous around him? When did Sam get nervous around Dean?

Sam stepped back then. Assessing what the hell was going on. His mind flickered to when he was on the floor in his hotel room.

"What happened before that?" He questioned himself aloud. Dean locked eyes with him. When did he get off his phone?

"What happened before what?" Dean asked, pulling off his grey tee. Sam's heart jumped. Crap. Sam's eyes jumped all over his body, but why? When? He was utterly confused and he couldn't breath. Sam sprinted off into the bathroom and closed the door with a loud bang. What if Dean was trying to make a move? Or better yet- wait, worse yet!- throw him on the bed just like his usual one-night stands.

It's alright. Just keep calm and don't fuss. This isn't going to hurt you, it just feels like it does now. I promise, this will help you. Sam could hear the words clear as day in his head, but he knew it had to have been from a memory. He felt sick as he listen to each word, as if he was being punched in the gut over and over again, yet soothed quietly and reassured with a soft hand caress. When he thought of hands, his mind shot to a different memory. Large, rough hands had taken a hold of his head and then... then what happened? Sam's brain work was soon disturbed by a pounding on the door.

"Dude, what is wrong with you? Get outta there, I need to take a shower." Dean paused and Sam could hear him shift. "We've got a case."

Sam's pressure in his head gave way to relief. That's why he was undressing. Thank god.

"Hello ma'am. I'm agent Fredricks and this is agent Monroe. We're here to talk to you about the recent accident that occurred in your home a few weeks ago." Sam waved his badge and used his other hand to gesture between the two men as he confirmed their identities. Dean had stuck his hand in his pocket moments earlier and stuck a "sexy" pose for Sam.

"Dig it, my names Monroe." He had said. He was such a child.

Sam snapped back to the present just in time to notice the woman at the door bobbed her head and stepped aside. They entered cautiously, keeping up their front as FBI agents. They both take a seat on the plush cream colored couch. They sit a tad too close, bumping knees together. Neither of them seem to notice the awkward glance the elder lady gives them. Probably because they are both now red in the face. They push that aside quickly. The job is more important at the moment.

"So, Mrs. Malone, what can you tell us about the day the accident happened." She visibly shook slightly. Dean had prodded Sam into questioning the poor woman even though it had only be a few days since the "accident" happened. Still, Sam could tell that the woman had a lot of fight in her. Her eyes met his gaze and she sucked in a sharp breath, filling her lungs with cold hair. She spoke, finally saying, "It wasn't an accident."

Dean could see the relief in her shoulders. He figured she had been lying to the police. Most likely because the actual events were extremely unbelievable. It's a goo start, Dean congratulates himself with a large smirk in Sam's direction. Sam's eyes widen, giving him the really man? This totally isn't the time look. Dean sighed in victory nonetheless for a moment before looking back at the fragile woman across the coffee table.

"What do you mean it wasn't an accident?" Dean follows up, flipping up his notepad and clicking the pen. The same pen from earlier.

"I... I saw something." She breathed deeply, her eyes watering. Sam could sense the pain she was feeling somehow. It almost brought tears to his own eyes. Sam shook the feeling and started to speak, but then she strongly continued on. "My husband... he... he looked like my husband, but his eyes." She motioned to her own watery eyes. Her words caught in her throat, but her lips still tried to mouth the words. "They were... black. And then, then they weren't! And he gave me some kind of quizzical look before a large puff a smoke shot from his mouth. And then he tumbled down the stairs. And I just stood there. I didn't know what to do!"

She was crying hysterically now and Sam had to bite his tongue. He felt water rushing to his eyes, but he squeezed them shut immediately, allowing himself to compose. Dean was watching him now, though, and he saw everything. Knowing this didn't stop Sam from looking over at him, however. He knew they would talk later, for now they had a possible demon trail.

"It's alright, ma'am. It's alright." Sam tried to sooth her by gently laying a hand on her shoulder.

"No, no it isn't. I'm going crazy- I have to be!" She threw up her arms as high as she could, which wasn't very high given her old age. "I... I don't think I can look at Donald the same way anymore."

"You're husband is still alive?" Dean asked, a bit surprised.

"Yes. Yes... can I ask what you are here for again?"

"Actually, we don't have time for that ma'am. Thanks for all the info. We'll check back later if we need anything else." Dean hurried Sam and himself out the door, giving one last salute to the woman before taking the door knob in his hand and swinging the door shut.

"You didn't know her husband was alive? Is there something going on?" Sam teased. Dean was usually very precise. Especially when he was the one researching. But Dean wouldn't admit that between the alcohol and the early morning Sam! jitters that he had slipped up on a few details. Which reminded him how pissed he was a Sam.

"Shut up. After this we are having a serious talk. And I swear, if you..." He held his finger out, trying to center his anger all at one point so that when he jabbed his little brother in the chest, he wouldn't do anything worse.

But he didn't touch Sam. He couldn't touch Sam. Something strange was happening between them. He didn't know if it was the shock of loosing Sam for those few hours or perhaps the constant fear that Sam will end up walking out that door again. That it was only a matter of time before he crept away again. Or maybe Dean was afraid of these resurfacing feelings for his brother. They had been so tightly locked away... and just one morning- one stupid pen- had struck a nerve. He couldn't help but feel this way again and he was damned if he would let Sam know.

"I won't leave." Sam blurted out. Dean was taken aback. Evidently, so was Sam. They both had taken a step back from each other. Dean bumped into a supporting column of the porch they occupied. It jolted his awareness.

"Yo- ye-. We gotta go!" Dean gave a pathetic huff as he stumbled on his words. Stomping off the porch onto the pavement of the pathway to the fence, Dean continued to huff. He wouldn't admit the millions of thoughts running through his head. And he wouldn't dare brush over the thought that the demon blood might be changing Sam even more now. No, not now. Not when his defenses are being built back up. Not until he started acting like a man again.

Dean turned on his heels then and looked back at the younger Winchester. "You coming or what?"

"Yeah."

Sam was quiet the rest of the ride back to the hotel. When they arrived at the crummy hotel door, Sam stopped up short and left Dean walking inside by himself. He nearly shut the door on Sam before Dean realized that Sam wasn't coming through. The elder Winchester's heart skipped a beat then. What if he wasn't coming back? This soon? When Dean turned around he saw that Sam was looking over in another direction. To his left.

Sam and Ruby locked eyes then. She was hiding behind the corner of the hotel room's office window. Knowing that Dean was so close, it was a suicide mission to even approach him. So, she decided to allow herself the treat of making him uneasy. There was still some fire in his gut for Ruby. But it had lessened as he started to jostle back to reality. What had driven him so fiercely to her in the first place? Some misplaced anxiety about not being able to hold his own? For some reason the thoughts behind his betrayal of Dean had seemed so foolish- childish to the extend of being completely inconsolable.

Sam blinked for a minute and she was gone. He didn't think about her much after that. Instead he looked at his brother and gave a weary smile. He knew he had hurt Dean and there was nothing he could do to make that better. But he could try to start with kicking this case in the ass.

Dean had the case mapped out on the spare hotel wall that happened to be void of any decoration. It had only taken him a few hours, but Sam figured the harsh tension between them made Dean more than happy to delve waist deep in the mess. Sam had since been looking into more reported "accidents" around the area. But nothing showed up. Did they catch the front end of a case? That would be a first.

"Why do you suppose the demon didn't kill Mrs. Malone?" Sam asserted into the dense silence.

"No idea, man. A typical demon would have no problem gangking a sweet old lady like Baloney."

"It's Malone." Sam corrected.

"Whatever." Dean glanced a scowl towards Sam. It made Sam crack a smile. Dean frowned, quickly turning his body back to the web. "Even lacking some other evidence- like news paper articles and what not- we've got a bunch of dirt on this case. Nothing of which really connects, though."

"What do you have so far, anyway?"

"Well, that old lady was number one, obviously. But another couple had spoke about something similar happening to them. They played it off like it was some dream or something. Shared dreams? Come on."

"Anything else?" Sam urged on, feeling a great sense of pride for some reason.

"Yeah. Get this, some couple said that their dog said 'woof'. Literally said 'woof'." And Dean and Sam shared a respective laugh. So similar.

"Dude, stop it." Dean was rubbing the back of his head as he said it.

"Stop what?"

"Being so... agreeable. And trying to bond with me. Dude, I'm sorry, but I'm pissed as hell with you right now."

Sam sat back on the stool he occupied. His side was turned to face the laptop that situated itself on the now cleared table. "Look man, I'm not trying to bond with you. I know what I did... I..." He stopped himself before he could say something stupid. He turned to face his laptop and typed in a couple of different search words he hadn't thought of before.

Both of them didn't look at each other for the rest of the night. They were both confused. And then they were both embarrassed because Dean had booked a single queen bed. And Dean was reluctant to let Sam leave again, not knowing if he'd ever come back. Dean slept on the floor beside the bed giving Sam the comfortable bed. Sam had opened his mouth to protest, but Dean was already fluffing his pillow and laying down on the hard floor. Once Dean made up his mind, it was made up. No arguments allowed.

But even though Dean had left Sam to sleep alone in the bed, he felt Dean's presence clearly beside him. He wasn't sure why. He decided to put his money on nostalgia. He looked back on a typical night for the Winchesters back when they were younger. There father had been injured and the boys didn't have enough money left over after the hospital bill. They were forced to get a single bed. Sam and Dean tried desperately to fit on the small mattress, but one way or another Dean had ended up falling off in his sleep. Sam awakened by a loud thud and a breathless curse. Sam recalled that Dean had just graduated from middle school then and Sam found it increasingly annoying when his brother's vocabulary consisted of four letter insults. Every other word was some version of 'shit', 'fuck', or 'bitch'.

Sam's eyes flew open as he felt a strange tinge of anger in his throat. For a moment he thought that it was a burn for blood. But as he fully awoke the sensation wasn't the same. He sat up in bed, holding his throat lightly. Then he honed in on the feeling of eyes on him. He looked straight ahead to see Ruby peering in from the window. Her hair was blowing lightly in the wind brushing past her eyes every so often. And then the feeling in his throat and the pierce of her eyes seemed to click a thought in his head.

"I can sense emotions."