Decided we needed some angry brothers, so here it is!

"Seriously, Sam? When have I ever let you down?" Dean demanded as they roared into the parking lot of the motel. Sam wasn't sure he was up for a fight at the moment. His arm hurt like a bitch, and he was sure he'd cracked one of his ribs. But Dean seemed set on riling him up as the two climbed out of the Impala. "Don't ignore me, Sam. Answer me, dammit!" Dean yelled after Sam as the tall man limped slightly towards the motel room. Sam spun around, almost falling off balance before sneering at Dean.

"I dunno Dean, but you seemed pretty damn set on letting that thing smack me around before you took the shot! And don't tell me that you didn't have a clear shot, because I know damn well that you did!" Sam retaliated, throwing his arms up and wincing at the pain that shot through his left one. It didn't matter, Dean had finally fired him up.

In all honesty, Dean didn't want to fight about the hunt tonight. He wanted Sam to tell him why he was so moody all the time. He'd closed himself off, and this was the first type of feeling he'd shown Dean in weeks. Dean was going to accept it.

"You wanna know the truth, Sammy?" Dean demanded, stalking up to his younger brother. Sam wasn't sure he actually did want to know the truth. "You're right, I did have a clear shot, but the image of you with a bullet in your forehead that I shot was too much for me to handle, so I waited until it wasn't anywhere near you, because I can't lose you again Sam." It was a heartfelt sentence, but in Dean's angry voice it just made the fury roll hotter in Sam's veins.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean." He replied in a low growl. "And you know that. So the next time you get cold feet...don't." He started to spin around, but Dean grabbed his arm forcefully to let Sam know that he wasn't done with the conversation. Sam almost wanted to turn back around and find out what was bothering his older brother so much. He had only ever fought like this with Sam when he was anxious about something. But the pure anger that exhumed off of him made him change his mind. He ripped his arm out of Dean's grip with final decisiveness and stalked into the motel room. Dean had other ideas, following him in and slamming the door so hard that it rattled the frame.

"I'm not done with this conversation, Sam." He spat, yanking the first aid kit from Sam's hand and tossing it onto the bed, away from Sam's long reach. Sam glared up at him from under his bangs. He really wasn't in the mood to fight with Dean, but his older brother knew exactly what buttons to push to get under his skin.

"Well I am." He muttered in a low tone, trying to get past Dean to the first aid kit. Dean could tell the man was exhausted, but he kept right on spitting words at Sam like bullets until Sam finally responded. "What do you want from me, man?!" He shouted, shoving Dean forcefully away from him. Dean stumbled, lithely finding his footing and standing a few feet away from his brother. His chest was heaving with the effort of screaming words at Sam, and his throat had been scraped raw. His hands were clenched into fists at his side and his eyes were narrowed dangerously, but Sam could see through it. He could see that Dean was going crazy with worry.

"I want you to tell me why the hell you're acting so weird, Sammy." Dean finally responded in a defeated tone, slumping onto one of the chairs in the small kitchen. "I've tried everything, man. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? Why do you bottle everything up inside? Just talk to me." Dean practically pleaded. Sam cocked his head in confusion, just an act. He knew exactly what Dean was talking out, and had hoped that his older brother wouldn't have noticed his strange behavior. Of course Dean would notice. Dean noticed when a single hair was out of place on Sam's head.

"What do you mean? I'm fine, Dean." Sam brushed off his observation with a noncommittal shrug.

"That's bull, Sam." Dean jumped up with renewed vigor. "It's bad enough that you're hiding stuff from me AGAIN. Don't sit there and lie to my face about it. I just can't handle that. You're my brother, Sam. I can't stand when you treat me like I'm an idiot. I may not be the most educated person out there, but I know you. I know you inside and out, Sam. I practically raised you, so please don't act like I can't see what's going on. You don't sleep, you barely eat, you go out every night to do god knows what. I respect your privacy, Sam. I trust you, I know you're not doing anything bad. I just want to know why." Dean's fists were clenched again, so tightly he thought he might actually break his fingers.

He wasn't expecting Sam to fight back. He wasn't expecting the tall man to jump out of his chair and swing his arm, catching Dean right in the eye. Dean stumbled back, not ready for the force that the punch held. He fell back onto the ground, staring up at Sam with his jaw clenched. It didn't seem like Sam was going to apologize any time soon, so he merely stood up, dusted himself off, and walked out of the motel room without a word.

The bar scene sucked, but Dean would rather be there than cooped up in a room with his PMSing little brother. He knew he had a decent shiner to accompany the throbbing pain in his left eye. He had to admit, Sam sure did pack a punch.

"Hi there." A seductive voice murmured in his ear. Dean glanced up, catching sight of the attractive blond girl running her nail down his arm softly. "What happened to your eye?" She asked with a cat like grin, taking the seat next to him at the bar and ordering a beer.

"Got into a fight with my brother." Dean replied, taking a sip out of his bottle. "I kicked his ass though." He boasted. It was a lie, Sam had definitely had the upper hand in that one. But she didn't need to know that.

"Wow, that's really cool." The woman leaned in, her breath smelling like beer and cigarette smoke. "How about we go back to my place." Dean smirked, slamming twenty bucks on the bar and leading the woman out to his Impala. It was going to be a good night.

The next morning, Dean had left her house before she even woke up. He didn't know anything about her, not even her name. He didn't care. It was just a way to get his mind off of Sam's weird behavior. He felt kind of bad for using the woman, but then shrugged. She'd asked for it, throwing herself all over him like that.

When he got back to the motel and opened the door, Sam had just gotten out of the shower. There was an empty bottle of jack on the table, and Sam had large bags under his eyes. Dean knew that his night had been twenty times better than Sam's. Dean remained silent as he closed the door behind him, eyeing the bed. It hadn't even been slept in.

"Hey Dean?" Sam asked suddenly. Dean turned his head to look at his younger brother with a perplexed expression. "I uh...here." Dean barely caught the bottle that Sam tossed at him. "We were out, and I thought that might hurt." He gestured to Dean's hideously black eye. Dean knew that it was Sam's way to try to apologize. He opened the small pill bottle and popped two of them dry before capping it off and putting it in his duffel bag. "And uh..." Sam started again. Dean turned to look at him as Sam fidgeted on his feet, staring down at the floor. "Sorry." Dean only nodded, turning away from him. He was still mad at Sam for not talking to him about whatever was going on, and Sam needed to know. "I get that you're worried man. But, this is something I have to deal with on my own. And when I'm ready, I'll talk to you. I promise I will, but until then, you just have to trust me." Dean turned back to Sam with a small smile.

"I do." He replied, nodding his head. "I trust you more than anyone else...Bitch." Sam smirked, knowing that he and Dean were going to be okay.

"Jerk."