Thanks for reading and for the really great comments...Hugs, Ember

Chapter Three

People only see what they want to see, and I guess that would include hunters like Dean in the mix. Sure, he's a little more watchful – a little more cautiously aware. But when it comes to his little brother, he might as well be a blind-mute on crutches walking through a cage full of starving lions. Easy prey – easy pickings.

But we're not so different – him and I. He would do exactly the same thing I'm about to do. I'm sure of it. Sam's memories are all the evidence I need to justify my reasoning. A life time of searching for their mother's killer, and still they are right at square one. On the other hand, I've only been at this a few months, and look how far I've gotten.

Sure my brother's body is probably worm food by now – but I made him a promise – I vowed Dean would suffer for killing him. He will suffer.

At first I had just planned on killing him. End of story. Admittedly, a no frills boring plan, but it would have sufficed. But Sam . . . Sam showed me the way. He's my own personal little savior.

Dean's weakness is Sam. His weakness is also whomever he choses to care about. He would rather die himself than have any of them hurt. So while he's running himself ragged taking care of me, Sam will be dying. Slowly. Painfully. Alone. And that'll hurt Dean far worse than anything I could ever do to him. Then, just for shits and giggles, I'll kill Bobby – followed by his father. And after that anyone else he's ever thought to care about.

"Sam?" Dean called out, and carefully nudged my shoulder to wake me from my supposed slumber.

I pried open the eye that wasn't swollen shut and feigned a sort of dazed confused look. He was doing that watching thing he likes to do again. Always studying. Always searching for the first signs that his precious Sammy is in worse condition than I am letting on to him. Truthfully, it's damn annoying, and I honestly don't understand how Sam could have put up with it for as long as he did.

"Mm'tired, Dean." I shifted in the bed while making sure to wince and grimace at what seemed the appropriate times. The thing of it is, I heal very quickly, so it's taking every bit of acting skills I possess to pull this off. The bruising, cuts and broken bones may look real enough to Dean, but I'm only a carbon copy of what I last saw of Sam. I'm not sure if he had internal injuries – I really don't care.

"You know the drill, lil' brother."

Yeah, I know the drill. He's woken me up every two hours like clockwork all night long. The man really belongs locked up in a mental institution. Somewhere safe and preferably a place with padded walls. I'll have to make sure I help him along with that.

"Yeah, I know," I grumble, burying my head beneath the pillow as I went on to add, "Sam Winchester. Place of residence – Dean's Impala. Current location – crappy motel room, East Bumfuck America." Lifting the pillow off my face, I grinned a very Sam-like lopsided awkward grin. "See, I know who I am, where I live and also where we are at the moment. Awareness times three, so now can I go back to sleep?"

"I've been giving it some thought, Sam, and I think we should stay here a few more days." With a tired sigh, he leaned forward in his chair, rested elbows on knees, and propped his chin on clasped hands. "You're a wreck. The Impala's a wreck, and we're still no closer to finding dad."

No. Bad idea, big brother. We're definitely not staying here – not with Sam so close by. "Then we'll go to Bobby's. It'll give me time to heal. You can work on fixing the Impala while we're there, and at the same time we can pump him for information about dad." It'll also give me the perfect opportunity to check Bobby Singer off my Winchester to kill list, I thought to myself, but saw no sense in adding that little detail.

Worry lines creasing at the corners of his red-rimmed eyes, his brow furrowed. "I know what happened, Sammy." I'm not exactly sure what he's talking about, so I opt to remain silent. "I saw it on the news a little while ago – I know that the woman in the other car died . . . but it's not your fault, Sam."

Oh, sure it is. I'd snapped her pretty little neck right after the accident, so it is my fault – or maybe it's Sammy's. It's all just really a matter of how you choose to look at it.

"Why does everyone always have to die around me, Dean?" In this, Sam and I were very much alike. Even freaks of nature have people they love and care about, and when they are cruelly taken away, it hurts every bit as much if not more. Thinking of my brother – the only person I had left in all the world - real tears filled my eyes. "Maybe that's why dad told me not to come back when I said I was going to college . . . maybe he knew what kind of freak I really am, and wanted to protect you from me."

"That's not true and you know it." He shook his head vehemently. "Dad's out there looking for that yellow-eyed sonuvabitch, and that has nothing to do with you."

Another Dean Winchester weakness comes to surface. It's sad really, protecting and worshiping a man who hasn't given either him or Sam the time of day since his wife died. But inwardly I smile, knowing I can use this idol worship of his father against him. "I'm not an idiot, Dean. Mom died in my nursery, so don't sit there telling me it has nothing to do with me."

"That yellow-eyed bastard killed Jess, and dad knows where it is," I went on to add, bracing my good hand against the mattress, I pushed myself into a sitting position and hung my feet over the side of the bed. "So you can stay here if that's what you've gotta do, but I'm leaving for Bobby's house in the morning."

With a frustrated sigh, Dean raked a hand through his hair, and I wondered briefly if he even sensed I was toying with him. But he didn't. His love for his brother blinded him to everything other than making sure Sam was safe and well looked after.

"No, you're not going alone. I'll go with you," he conceded, and the expression on his face right then and there – that's a look I'll never forget. It said he knew somewhere deep down inside something was wrong, but instead of trusting his gut instincts, he trusted his brother – he trusted me.