So if anyone's still interested after the ridiculously long wait here it is. Huge apologies for keeping you waiting, it's just really hard to find time lately, but I am going to finish this dammit. So, hope you enjoy and it was at least a little bit worth the wait.

Chapter 3

Suspicious Minds

I'd never been good at handling bad news, not since I found out that monsters are real, but this time? Well the news was particularly bad so I guess my response was too. When you think that you've hit rock bottom, then suddenly you drop a few more hundred feet it can take it out of you a little. I don't blame Dean, he's probably right about everything, about us staying as far away from each other as possible. I mean on paper it makes perfect sense.

But that doesn't mean I don't have the right to feel like I've had my insides ripped out.

My chosen therapy was pretty predictable I suppose. Copious amounts of alcohol and that other weakness most other members of my gender occasionally fall victim to. Her name was Evelyn and she was by far the best meaningless sex I've ever had. It was almost as if she knew everything about me, every need, desire, craving every mistake every ounce of guilt and shame and regret that I harbored and not only that, but knew exactly what to do about it. It was as if she sensed how much I wanted from her, how much control I needed, how much I needed her silence, and when I needed to hear her voice, where to touch me, when and with the exact amount of pressure and when to let go.

She predicted my every move, her body in sync with mine so perfectly it was scary. And when it was over she didn't say a word, just smiled at me with these incredible green/blue eyes which seemed to be staring right inside me like she knew me, like she'd known me for years and it was so cliché, I felt like I was inside a romance novel. And then she was gone and it was over and I was left with a feeling that something extraordinary had just happened; but not only that, something very, very wrong.

It stayed with me for hours but eventually, gradually, melted away and the memories were replaced with the ones I'd been trying to forget, the ones I'd been using her to forget, the more important ones, like for example the one of the devil impersonating my girlfriend and revealing that he wanted nothing more than to get inside me. Literally. Life. Officially. Sucked.

Today is a good day. For the first time in a very, very, long time she feels like there's a light at the end of this long and very dark tunnel and maybe she can put a stop to this constant living hell that she's been plagued with and maybe she can start to feel normal again and maybe she can actually get herself one of those life things that everyone's always talking about.

It had been fun, the connection, connecting, making the connection, always fun but this time much more fun. Lots of fun. Connecting with him, the one, the one she'd been trying to find, always searching never finding always someone else, someone wrong and not right. Just not right. Until now.

Step one; finished and completed, check it off the to do list, done and dusted and time for step two. Step one, make the connection, step two, destroy the scum sucking loser and turn him into a snivelling wreck. Like her. Like she's always been. A wreck. Now it's his turn. Time to take your turn. She'd had her turn and now it's his. His turn and it will be his forever now because she's paid her dues and she's quite frankly had enough. Time for someone else to take over and he would do it so well she's sure. Someone so pretty, so messed up and so wounded, she can only imagine how delicious it will be.

He had been delicious. And lots of fun too, it had been a fun encounter, not even a tiniest waste of her time, even if the connection hadn't been such a roaring fucking success because basically he had a face and a body and an ass that no girl in her right mind would kick out of bed. Even if there hadn't been more pressing reasons it would still have been one of those nights - that were few and rare as piggy wings - marked in her head as 'worthwhile experience' especially as she isn't getting any younger and it can be hard to get laid when all you can hear is their insecurities, their doubts, their arrogance, their cock sure certainty of success and their delusions of grandeur and exaggerated girth buzzing around in your head like a wasp on speed.

And she can hear him now, buzzing around in her skull although now the distance between them is significant, she can still hear him obsessing and fretting over this dream he'd had. He keeps replaying it over and over and it makes her livid to hear that traitorous bastard's voice seducing him when it should have been her, always should have been her. She's over it now though because now she's all about revenge and stopping him in his tracks and basically pissing all over his party. And of course getting her sanity back.

She exhales slowly, attempting to clear her mind trying to sink deeper into meditation without the constant distractions because she's always found it hard work. It had never come naturally to her because she'd never been a natural. An anomaly apparently, a mistake to be learned from and corrected, an abomination, just something to be thrown aside and it shouldn't be like this, should be easy, like the others, the special ones, the ones who he'd preferred, the ones he'd got right, the ones who didn't even need to try. Not like her. She needs to give it everything, all she's got, all of her energy and focus and blood and fury but she knows that it will be worth it. Just to be free again. Free of the constant pain and fear and confusion and the fucking noise and to be finally able to get some sleep.

It is my official opinion that angels are dumb. I mean except maybe Cas, but then again, after the whole unpleasantness with the quiche and that waitress I'm not so sure.

Zacharia, the ass hat, thinks he needs to teach me a lesson and he does except it's the wrong one. What he doesn't seem to understand is that there is more chance of me dancing for my brother - naked - than me saying yes to becoming a tortilla wrap for some arch douche bag called Michael.

I guess I have to give him credit though. However dumb he may be he still managed to get into my head and play me a high def, 3D version of my worst nightmare. The only difference being there was no waking up. There was no waking up because this was real, my little brother stood in front of me, but not Sam anymore, not Sammy, not my baby brother who I carried out of our home, who's bleeding and broken body I held and willed to continue breathing, who I died for, who I went to hell for, who tried so hard to save me and who cried in my arms when he finally realized he couldn't.

Not him. Not my stubborn, bullheaded, overgrown, whiny and courageous to the point of insane pain in the ass little brother who'd been my everything for so long. Not him, but something else. Gone, taken away and replaced by a monster, something evil and inhuman and disgusting, wearing my brother's skin, his face, his eyes, using his lips to spout filth and lies and nothing I could do to save him or to bring him back.

I felt everything come crashing down, as if there was nothing left, as if everything I'd fought for was gone, everything I'd fought to protect had been destroyed and everything I'd fought to prevent had unfolded right before me and I let Lucifer - the devil - see me cry because there was nothing left and I couldn't fight and I wanted more than anything to take back everything I'd done and said that had gotten us here.

And when that second chance came I didn't need any more time to consider. I called my brother, my family, the only person who I needed to keep me human, and who needed me for the same, and I called him home.

This time around there's no forgetting or ignoring my mistakes, no get out, not let off and no reprieve from the constant accusation and rebuke that the world throws at me daily. Every now and then when Cas makes his rapidly-becoming-predictable-and-dull Random Appearance, spouts his usual 'cryptic' crap which a four year old could figure out and gives us the update on the ever fucking present apocalypse, I'm reminded of my recent world class fuck up of letting out the frigging devil.

And then there's Dean, a living, breathing reminder of what I failed to do, of what an angel had to do because I was too busy playing McUseless. And of course there's the jokes, the jibes, the throwaway comments - the things he says that always make me wonder if he's trying to make me feel better with his weird brand of humor, or if he's just expressing his own resentment of how the brother he sold his soul for went and repaid him by trusting a demon whore over him. It's a tricky one because I'm never sure how I'm supposed to react. I'm never certain whether I'm supposed to laugh, shrug, wince, smirk or pull the kicked puppy. I can do all of those things of course it's just knowing which one. Because it seems after all this time I've lost the ability to read my brother.

The first couple of days had been okay of course. We were both just glad to be back with each other I think, but looking back even then there had been a sort of awkwardness, like we were both trying too hard not to upset each other, not to ruin things, like one wrong word could set us back to where we were. And then gradually things started to change. It began with concealed insults and loaded comments that I was pretty sure were aimed at me and then it became more blatant, more brutal like he didn't even care if he offended me. And I kept telling myself that it would be alright, that Dean was taking time to adjust, that it would take a while before he trusted me again, before he could forgive me, before he could look at me and not feel angry or hurt or betrayed and I kept promising myself that it wouldn't be forever that I just had to suck it up, that I'd brought it on myself and I deserved everything he threw at me.

I bit my lip and turned the other cheek and absorbed every barb, every remark and I tried so hard not to feel affronted. I did after all deserve it. I had brought it on myself and I couldn't blame Dean one bit.

And then somehow it all came to a head. It was Castiel's fault really, he kind of gave me the nudge, made me realize that we couldn't carry on like this, that were were repeating old patterns and that just because I'd made the most humongous screw up in human history, it didn't give Dean the right to behave like an ass. Personally I thought Dean had every right to behave like an ass but how do you argue with an angel of the Lord?

Castiel appeared at Sam's side, as normal, without warning or invitation. Dean had pulled up alongside a burger van announcing that if he didn't get some meat soon he would have no other choice but to start gnawing on his brother's leg. Sam had rolled his eyes in mock disgust trying to hide the relief that there appeared to be a respite from the hideous atmosphere that had been following them around for the past week. They had been travelling in silence after completing their third argument of the day although it hadn't been so much of an argument as Dean telling Sam what their next course of action would be, Sam disagreeing and Dean telling Sam that he could either like it or lump it. Sam had chosen the latter and had put on the mother of all sulks, a sulk to end all sulks in fact which had succeeded in pissing his older brother off in classic Sam Winchester style.

Sam regarded the suddenly and unexpectedly present angel with a raised eyebrow, but other than that, really couldn't be bothered to act surprised as the winged entity frowned 'pensively' out of the window.

"Dean is behaving like a dick-butt."

"A what?"

"A dick-butt."

"Oh."

"You need to put a stop it or..."

"Or what? You will?"

Castiel shot Sam his Pissed Angel face, wiping the sarcastic smirk off his features, but to be fair The Pissed Angel Face wasn't all that different from the 'pensive' frown face, unless of course you knew him really well and Sam could just about make out the subtlety but only just.

"I am trying to help you Sam. You believe you are paying your dues, but you are mistaken."

"So.. what? What'm I supposed to do? Dean's pissed at me and who can blame him?"

"No one. He should be...pissed... at you."

Sam narrowed his eyes and gazed out the side window.

"Gee, thanks for your support Cas."

"I am not suggesting that mistakes weren't made. But you are not the only one at fault Sam. We all played a part in starting the apocalypse."

"Yeah, I get that, it's just that I had the starring role right? Cas, look; I get what you're tryin' to do here..."

"No. You do not. I am not attempting to make you feel better, Sam, I am trying to prevent you from repeating old mistakes. The mistakes that got you here in the first place."

"So... what are you suggesting I do? Square up to Dean and tell him to knock it off? I just can't see..."

"Yes."

"No, see, all that's gonna do is piss him off."

"Well then maybe you'll just have to risk pissing him off. You need to be honest with each other. Tell him exactly how you feel."

"Yeah, see, Dean hates that. Besides when did you go all Doctor Phil, huh Cas?"

"I do not understand, what is Doctor Phil?"

So I did. Not right away of course. We had this weird case where I saved Dean's ass from this pagan god that looked like Paris Hilton and then we had it out. It wasn't pretty but I think it helped. I just wanted him to realize where I'd been coming from. That all I ever wanted was to have control over my life. I never really felt like I did, ever since I was a kid and Dean going to Hell just kind of exaggerated every feeling of helplessness I'd ever had. I mean I tried everything, pulled out all the stops but in the end it made no difference, Dean was always destined to go to Hell and there was nothing that I could do about it, like I was this puppet being jerked around and whatever I did the ending would always be the same. Because when it came down to it - I couldn't even save my own brother.

It wasn't Dean's fault and I never meant it to sound like it was, it was just - him telling me what to do all the time, bossing me around, always having the final word - and yeah, I know it wasn't all the time, I guess it just felt like it was, probably because I was so sensitive about it and had all these issues from my past about it. I'm so aware and in tune with all that crap these days I figure I missed my calling, I should have been a shrink or something.

Anyway, I guess I was even more aware of it after he came back. I'd been hunting alone for so long, doing my own thing, blocking out the fact that I once had a family to look out for me and then Dean, pulling his big brother card - I guess brought it all back, brought back all the crap I put up with as a kid. All those times when I wanted to hang out with friends or get more involved with school and right up to going to college; every time he tried to control or I guess protect me, it just brought it all back to the surface.

And Ruby? Well I guess she was the antidote to all that. The one person who I felt listened, who gave me control, or at least the illusion of it. And I know it was all bullshit, that with Ruby I was never really in control, she was just another puppet master jerking me around. I made my own choices and I can only blame myself, but I was stupid enough to believe the lie she spun that I was in charge, that I was calling the shots when really it was her all along. And Dean? I guess all he ever did was try to protect me, in his own messed up way, but my head was so screwed up back then I just didn't see it. I know now, I wasn't trying to get away from Dean, it was more what he represented. I don't think I really explained it all that well to him and maybe one day I will. Right now it's all a little raw and a little too hard.

It's like one step forward and two steps back. He's trying and I'm trying but we just don't seem to be gelling. It hurts like hell because after everything, after all the crap, after trying to be my own person and doing my own thing and being in control of my own destiny, all I really want is my big brother back.

I recently confessed to him that when we met after our time apart and he brought out Ruby's knife that for a nano second, just a brief fleeting moment I believed he intended to use it on me. I thought it would help, thought it would show him how sorry I am, how I don't believe I deserve his forgiveness or anyone's for that matter. But it didn't help. Didn't help at all, in fact it set us back months. He just looked at me, his eyes bulging with fury, agony and disappointment and he just left. Walked out and I thought that I was alone again. I couldn't even hide my surprise and relief when he returned and that seemed to anger him even more.

"I'm not the one who walks out, Sam."

And there was no humor in his voice this time, no sarcasm or snark, just pure, raw pain, in his eyes and his voice and in his very fucking being and this time I knew precisely how I was to react.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that Sam, please, just stop."

I closed my eyes and turned away from him in a completely pointless attempt to sleep and wondered if my brother would ever forgive me.

"Relax it's me."

"Me? I'm gonna need a little more than that, my friend."

"You're a douche."

The eyes flashed black and a sarcastic grin crept across his lips, head nodding in acceptance of the coded insult that had always sufficed.

"And what do you want this time my little honey bun?"

"You know what I want."

The gaze was menacing, fierce, piercing, only betrayed by the soft brown bangs caressing the forehead.

"Seriously babe. I would have much preferred to do business while looking at your pretty pretty face than to have to converse with...this."

He waved his hand around mouth twitching in disgust and contempt.

"Yeah well, I couldn't resist the irony of using this pretty pretty boy to create the circumstances that will eventually cause his own demise."

"Is that irony? I dunno if it is, I think it's just bad luck?"

"Shut up. Of course it's irony. What, are you an idiot?"

The demon regarded the statuesque figure stood before him with bemusement. His head cocked to one side, his eyes traced up and down shaking his head in mock sadness.

"You've changed, my dear. You never used to be into using people to create the circumstances that would eventually cause their own demise."

"Yeah, well, maybe I chose my words badly. When I said 'cause his own demise', I actually meant, turn him into a dribbling, sobbing wreck."

The eyes flickered to black once again, in delight, a wide grin creeping across his face.

"Oh well that's okay then. Do you mind me asking why him?"

"Seriously, you haven't heard? Puppy eyes here is the chosen one."

"Huh?"

"The boy king? Lucy's protégé? Yellow's special little soldier? Do I need to spell it out to you?"

The arrogant sarcasm rapidly switched to abject terror, as he took a step forward, head ducked voice hissing in barely concealed fury.

"Are you freakin' shitting me? Have you any idea what they'll do to me if..."

"Would you relax, I took precautions. They'll never know he was here and you can carry on pretending you're one of Lucy's army and lying your traitorous ass off. Besides do you honestly think that the almighty douche bag wouldn't be able to find him if he really wanted to? If you ask me, Lucy's biding his time for a reason, I hear it's all gonna go down in Detroit some months from now."

He looked around him nervously, voice lowering even more so that it was little more than a whisper.

"Would you quit calling him that. It creeps me out."

He flexed his shoulders, cricking his neck from side to side, his demeanor switching quickly, in the same way ones would if one was not entirely sane.

"You know I gotta say I'm a little disappointed. I was kinda hoping we could have some fun, you know for old times sake?"

"Yeah creepazoid that's exactly why I didn't come dressed as myself. Did you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to take that risk, you low life scum sucking sicko?"

He shook his head sadly.

"Madam, you wound me."

"Look, we both want the same thing here. You gonna help me or not?"

"Evie, have I ever said no to you?"

The day Dean tells Sam about his time in Hell should have been a turning point for them both but as it turns out it isn't.

The confession does however, stir something in Sam that Sam had thought gone forever. Sam feels his soul and his heart reawaken at the sight of his brother's tears and raw agony and he doesn't particularly like how that feels. It hurts and it scares him because it's been a long time since he allowed himself to feel such similar emotions and Sam suddenly remembers what it means to be a brother.

Dean turns to him for the first time, and Sam sees the tears streaming down his face, the tears which had previously been hidden, eyes pleading, eyes which he had shielded from Sam but that now are begging him to act. Dean almost never looked at him like that which scares Sam even more and a part of him wants to close his eyes and pretend none of this is happening. But Sam doesn't. Sam's brain has stopped working for the moment, there are no messages being sent to his nerves, no instructions on what to do next so Sam doesn't think and instead his limbs choose to move all on their own with out command or direction.

He stands pushing up off the car turning slightly so he's facing Dean head on making it harder for either of them to avoid each other's gaze and Dean flinches, eyes dropping, not to his feet but away from Sam's face, around the level of his torso, just low enough to avoid seeing whatever he's afraid of seeing there. Sam feels his chest tighten, his guts twist and the sight of his brother physically hurts him and it's this he's been afraid of facing, of finding, of reaching for, the reality of what Dean had suffered for him, of what he'd been unable to prevent, what he'd hidden and cowered from, what he'd kept locked up in a box and pushed far out of sight so that he could almost forget that any of it ever happened.

But Sam's arms aren't listening, Sam's arms haven't forgotten that he's Dean's little brother even if Sam has and they reach out, the right hand grasping Dean's coat and without thinking or deciding or any conscious thought, Sam yanks Dean forward hard, his chest colliding with his own, arms wrapping around Dean's back and shoulders, holding on to him tightly enough so that Dean has nowhere to go. He's surprised at the speed at which Dean's arms mimic his own and disturbed at the how hard he clings to him and Sam thinks to himself that this is one of the few times he can remember them being close - united - since Dean returned. Since his brother came home to him there had been a distance, a distance created by fear and mistrust and the fact that Sam could simply not remember who he was before his brother died.

Right now though there is no distance and they cling to each other as if they're all they have, forgetting and ignoring the external, the storm surrounding them, the uncertain future ahead of them. For one moment none of that matters because Sam is Dean's brother and Dean is Sam's and Sam wonders how long it will last, if he can allow it to last, if he has the strength and courage to allow it to endure. He wonders how much he can still remember, if he can still be a source of strength and comfort like he was so long ago when times were simpler and the end of the world wasn't imminent because Dean is clinging to him so desperately, with such trust and hope and vulnerability, like he believes in Sam alone, that Sam's the only one who can save him, but Sam's not all that sure that he can. How can you save someone when you're not even sure you can save yourself, when you don't even know if there's enough for your old self left to save? How can you save another soul when your own is slipping into the shadows?

A long time passes before Dean's tears give way to exhaustion and he's so worn out he doesn't protest when Sam settles him into the passenger seat and Sam drives his car with a fury that would have terrified him had he had the energy. Sam is pissed and swears he is going to kill the bitch that did this to his brother, the evil that destroyed the hunter in him, that shattered his will, that broke him, that took him away from his family and tore him apart over and over and made him do things that he could not forgive himself for. He swears that he is going to find Lilith and when he's done making her suffer, making her pay he's going to kill her as slowly as he can.

They stay at Bobby's and wait for him to return. He'd given them a spare key to use when they needed and Sam thinks this is one of those times. Dean sleeps for a while and Sam paces furiously. When Dean wakes he makes him something to eat and they sit in silence until Sam tells Dean what he's going to do to Lilith when he finds her and how he doesn't have to worry because she's going to pay for what she did to him, to them. Dean just looks at him sadly.

When Bobby finally gets back, Sam tells him everything and Dean, asleep in the other room, is spared the argument between them. The argument about revenge and justice and family and about what's important and what's right and what's not.

"So you're tellin' me you're brother finally opened up to you and all you wanna do is run off and find Lilith?"

"I'd say it's up there on my list of priorities yeah Bobby."

"And what about Dean?"

"What about him?"

"Don't you think maybe he might need you right now?"

"What my brother needs is for me to end the bitch that did this to him."

"And he told you that did he?"

Sam stops and turns away because he doesn't want to hear it or face it. He wants to stay he does, he wants to stay by Dean's side and talk him through the terror and pain but he can't bear to look into his brother's eyes and see the fear and the agony that he knows he will, can't bear to see his brother break under the weight of what had been done to him, because of him. Because he'd failed, failed to do what an angel had to do. It would be the end of him, it would be too much to endure and he needs to stay strong, for Dean, so that he can find Lilith and end her for good.

As it turns out Dean doesn't want to sit still and talk, he wants to hunt and hunt and then hunt some more. So they do. They hunt none stop for weeks and the distance between them that had been closed by Dean's confession, opens wide once more.

"Where the hell have you been Sam?"

Sam closes the door behind him entering the room to find his not so slightly pissed off brother pacing the room, eyeballing him in that way that tells him he's in so much shit that his next move could be a matter of life or death. Sam's face is wearing that confused almost hurt look, eyebrows narrow momentarily then shrugs, trying to look oblivious to the fact that big brother is very pissed right now. Pissed and getting pissier.

"I um, went for a walk?"

It sounds like a question to Dean because his voice goes up at the end of the sentence as if he's not entirely sure of his answer and whether his answer is acceptable to Dean. And apparently it isn't.

"A walk huh? Where did you walk to? Connecticut? You've been gone hours, Sam."

Sam can tell by his brother's tone, tight jaw and that glare he uses on him whenever he's in trouble that Dean isn't buying any of this and is about to go from simmering anger to boiling rage in about thirty seconds. He pulls an incredulous face, betraying more confusion, because he genuinely is confused although Dean doesn't seem to read it as confusion, Dean seems to read it as: I Am Lying My Ass Off.

"No, I haven't. I've been like half hour tops."

"Look at your watch Sammy."

Sam frowns again as Dean takes a step closer to him and he's still confused and maybe a little afraid, like that feeling you get when you've forgotten something really important, something that you really should have remembered and for a fleeting second you start to wonder if you're losing your mind. Dean doesn't see that of course, the only thing Dean sees is Lying Little Shit of a Brother.

"No way. I haven't been gone that..." His voice is becoming more and more shrill and he taps in frustration at his watch trying to convince himself that it's the watch that's gone mad not him but his heart is racing all the same because none of this makes any sense to him and he doesn't understand why. Dean apparently does understand fully and knows exactly what is going on judging by the stance and the posture and the fact that his eyes are almost no longer a part of his face, oh and his jaw's popping too, in that way it does when he's trying to control his temper, trying really hard not to smack the person responsible for his rising temper square in the mouth.

"Why don't you cut the crap and tell me where. The hell. You've been?"

"Dean... I swear, I just.."

"Been for a walk, yeah you said. You think I'm a complete moron Sam? You think..."

"Dean would you just..."

"Just how long d'you think you can keep this up huh Sam? How long do you actually think I'm gonna just sit by and let you screw me over again, huh?"

"Dean, what the hell...?"

Sam shakes his head, feeling desperate and scared and at a complete loss. He looks away, exhaling and runs a hand through his hair and if Dean was one of those body language experts, one of those people who can tell if you're lying just by how your eyebrows flicker or the shape of your mouth then he'd know that his little brother was telling the truth. Unfortunately he isn't one of those people and while he often can tell when people are lying to him, tell when he's about to be screwed, his little brother reading skills aren't exactly what they used to be and this time he gets it wrong. So very wrong.

His voice drops low and his shoulders sag as he realizes he just hasn't got the energy to fight anymore and is surprised to find that he simply doesn't care.

"You know what, save it Sam. I'm done."

Then Dean walks away leaving his hurt and confused brother behind him, racking his brain trying to remember where exactly he had been but no matter how hard he tries to focus, tries to pull out the memory he can't. The memory has gone, it's simply not there and it scares the shit out of Sam.

It happens twice more. The second in the middle of the night. Dean had woken to find an empty bed and stayed awake until his brother returned. When he did he simply climbed into bed ignoring his incensed brother's questions and went to sleep. It had been a confused Sam that following morning, who had been unable to figure out why his brother wasn't speaking to him, why he was so angry. The third and final time Dean figured Sam had slipped out first thing as he'd emerged from the shower to find once again his brother gone. He'd sat miserably on the end of his bed at a loss at what to do, furious, terrified and feeling betrayed all over again. So he simply sat and waited for the door to open, but it never did. He'd been about to call Bobby when his phone had started to vibrate.

"Dean?"

Dean can't see Sam's face but he can hear the terror in his little brother's voice, terror that sends a chill through his bones, wiping out any irritation, suspicion or anger he'd been feeling. The tremors begin in his fingers and find their way to his voice as he gets that feeling in his gut that tells him some Very Bad Shit is about to go down.

"Sammy?"

"Dean, I don't know where I am, I... I'm in some diner and I don't know how I got here, Dean please.. I don't know what to do."

"Sam just calm down okay? I'm gonna come get you. Just ask around, find out where you are and I'll come pick you up."

"Dean you don't understand, I don't remember, I don't, Dean how the hell did I get here?"

"Sammy, it's alright, we'll figure it out okay? Now go ask someone where you are."

It takes Dean about fifteen minutes to reach Sam but feels like about fifteen hours. When he does one of his worst memories revisits him, his little brother, terrified, confused and covered in someone else's blood. He can hardly speak when he approaches the table, the air trapped in his throat as he sees Sam looking up at him, trusting and hopeful and pleading with him to make it all right. He lowers himself into the chair opposite, exhales slowly, carefully observing his younger sibling as Sam's gaze drops to the table, fingers picking at the skin on his thumb, scratching furiously, close to drawing blood only stopping when he feels the gentle and reassuring pressure of his brother's hand on his forearm.

"Hey."

Sam looks up at him, scared and ashamed and for a second a thought flickers through Dean's head, a thought questioning how real this is, how real Sam is and what if this isn't Sam, what if it's not him, what if it's someone, something else, just like last time. He banishes the thought because he's sure the pitiful and desperate eyes he's staring into are those of his brother's, he so sure and he has to be right about this, because if he's wrong, if he can't even recognize Sam anymore, then what hope do either of them have?

"What happened?"

Sam shakes his head eyes lowering a fraction.

"I don't know. Last thing I remember, I went to bed then I wake up here. Apparently I ordered a coffee. But.. it 's too sweet. Too much sugar. Tastes awful. Why, would I do that?"

"Sam take it easy okay? Just, think try to remember..."

"I can't, I can't Dean don't you think I've tried..."

He looks back up at Dean his hand subconsciously reaching across and grabbing hold of his brother's sleeve.

"Alright, alright, take it easy, we'll figure it out..."

"I know what you're thinking. I was possessed right? I mean there's no other explanation is there?"

Dean shakes his head wishing if only it could be that simple. He speaks slowly, in his best patient tone, trying not to sound like he's accusing or judging his brother.

"Sam, you and I can't be possessed. The tattoos?"

"Then... what?"

Dean's eyebrow twitches, it's a subtle movement but Sam doesn't miss it.

"Right, I get it. You don't believe me."

Sam withdraws, pulling his arms back and hiding his hands under the table looking away, his head shaking slightly.

"Sam..."

His head snaps back furiously, switching from kicked spaniel to angry Rottweiler in 0.2 seconds.

"No, that's fine Dean I mean why should you? I'm a liar right? That's what I do."

"Sam. All I'm sayin' is there has to be another explanation. I mean come on bro, this isn't the first time you've done a disappearing act lately. Are you sure there's nothing you're not telling me?"

"Dean, no I swear I..."

Sam scrubs a hand across his face exhaling deeply, trying his best to calm his temper.

"What did you mean anyway, when I have I ever done a disappearing act?"

Dean snorts in derision. Sam sighs slightly defeated

"Okay fine. When have I done a disappearing act lately?"

Dean turns away, then back eyebrows raised waiting.

"What?"

"What? Do I really need to remind you?"

Sam shakes his head the confusion so real so genuine Dean begins to question his own judgement, begins to question whether any of this makes any sense, if what had been happening the last few days had really happened or whether he'd imagined it all. He takes a breath and tries to speak as evenly as his cyclonic emotions will allow.

"The other night, when you were out sneakin' around, came back about - I dunno - two thirty in the morning? Refused to answer me? And a couple days earlier, when you were gone hours and insisted you'd been for a walk? All I'm sayin' Sam is that there has to be something you're not tellin' me. I thought we were bein' honest now. No more lies Sammy. I want to trust you but how can I if..."

"Dean I told you, I just took a walk, I guess I must have lost track of time but I swear it wasn't deliberate."

"And the other night?"

"I dunno what to tell y' Dean. I don't remember, I have no idea what you're talkin' about. Wait, is that why you didn't speak to me all day, why you were so pissed?"

Dean says nothing but makes a face that pretty much says 'yes genius, that is why I was so pissed'.

Sam shakes his head, disbelieving but at the same time knowing it must be the truth even if it the events don't exist in his own head and it terrifies him even more.

"I swear Dean - on Mom's grave - I don't remember any of it."

Dean glares at him their eyes locked, for several long seconds Sam trying to convince his brother that he's telling the truth, Dean trying to decide how much he can believe, how much he's prepared to believe and whether he has it in him to make the astonishing leap that maybe Sam is telling the truth.

"I don't remember that and I don't remember how I got here. Please, Dean you have to believe me."

Dean eyeballs his brother for a few more seconds then breathes out heavily and nods.

"Okay Sammy, I believe you."

And only Dean knows that he's lying through his own teeth.

TBC

Hope it was ok for you - I'd love to hear your thoughts