Disclaimer: Oh God... so, if I have, like fifty of these one shots up here, I gotta think of fifty ways to say no?! That's rediculous...

A/N: Slowly, but surely, I see more people coming back to my one shots. Haha-- it's entertaining me. Ok-- with this one shot... every time I read it over, the ending still kindda catches me off guard. Haha... that really shouldn't happen when I'm the one who wrote it, huh? I just get so into the story, into what's happening, and then... yeah. No, this is not a death fic, so don't skip to the end to see if our boys are alive-- they are. This is just a story, that I guarantee will either make you groan, or go 'aww' at the end. Haha... I more groan... enjoy!

Title: Love, Like and Hate
Genre: Pretty suspensful... though not in a scary way.
Summary: Dean contimplates his feelings he has for Sam... just realized right now how this could be taken... nope-- not slash or wincest... just good 'ol brothers.

Love, Like and Hate

As Dean grew up, he remembered many times when he'd yell at Sam that he hated him. Fiercely the words would come out, usually followed by a hard shove or an evil glare. If their Dad was around, Dean would usually find himself quickly with a red bottom and a weeks worth of privileges revoked.

If he wasn't around, young Sammy would often look up at Dean, tears in his eyes as he asked 'Do you really hate me Dean?'. God that kid could pull a good puppy look. And most of the time it would get to the older brother, and Dean would soften, give young Sammy a hug and say that no, he didn't hate him. Sometimes were different though.

Sometimes Dean really did hate Sam…

"Get out Sam!" Dean roared, "Just get the hell out then!"

"Fine!" Sam yelled just as loudly.

They were in a hotel room, and both brothers were pretty sure their neighbor on either side was listening with interest to their argument. It was a stupid argument; one Dean knew they would regret in the morning, but seemed infinitely important at that moment. Sam wanted to go to the next town over before stopping for the night, and Dean, keen on the local bar, wanted to stay there.

"You know what," Dean's voice dropped as Sam shoved random objects into his bag, "You're an asshole."

"Yeah, I've heard that line before," Sam grumbled, pulling his jacket on harshly.

That only seemed to make Dean more angry and it was just before Sam got to the door that he spoke his next sentence, "… I hate you Sam."

For one fleeting moment Sam wasn't sure he heard his twenty-seven year old brother correctly. And in that moment Dean fully expected Sam to turn to him with his five year old eyes and say pleadingly 'Do you really hate me Dean?'. That moment passed however.

Sam nodded, opening the door, "Good."

Dean stood stunned in the silence as the old, wooden door slammed shut on him. The words had been said less than a minute ago, and yet it seemed like ages ago. Time had lost all meaning, and suddenly Dean was transported back to a time when the words seemed somehow meaningless. Not to a time when the words of hate meant something, and when they seemed so permanent.

"I hate you," the words repeated in a whispered out of Dean's mouth, followed by a slow moving tear.

He hated Sammy, and the realization of the truth of the statement made the elder man shout it out to the deserted room.

"I hate you!!"

His breath was ragged, and uneven as Dean slumped onto the bed. He hated how Sam scared him so much. He hated how Sam could mean so much to him, and yet he could never protect him. He hated Sam for his ability to get himself into trouble at exactly the wrong time. He hated how Sam had saved his life so many times; keeping him on this God forsaken world.

Dean hated Sam.

Almost immediately after the younger Winchester left, rain started to pelt against the windows, and thunder cracked loudly from the sky. Anger and hatred once again bubbled up in Dean at Sam for leaving.

"Why Sam?" Dean asked the empty room, the lights flickering from the hesitant power, "Why do you do this to me?"

The word hate popped into Dean's mind again, but he refused to say it or think it any more. The word became feared, and Dean fought to try and keep good thoughts towards his currently missing brother.

But none seemed to come.

When Dean was in middle school; barely thirteen, his best friend Jason got a new little brother. Jason was thrilled with this, and basked in the big brother role. After school one day eight year old Sam had been particularly annoying with his constant questioning and pestering, and with a harsh word from big brother, the small child left Dean alone. Jason seemed shocked and asked Dean if he liked Sam anymore.

Dean said no.

A loud crack of thunder brought Dean back to his current surroundings, and a cold feeling filled the pit of his stomach. Did he really hate his precious little brother? The human being which he'd been raised to protect, and to shield from any harm. It was there, Dean knew it-- the dreaded 'h' word. Thought after thought raced through Dean's mind as he sat in the hotel room that he barely noticed when a small click came from the door, and a low, steady squeak came from it being opened.

Looking over, Dean saw a sopping wet Sam walk into the room, and without realizing it, Dean let out a sigh of relief.

"Sammy," Dean cleared his throat, "Are you ok?"

Sam studied Dean for a moment, taking in the question and appearance of the older brother. If Dean had thought at all of his looks, this action wouldn't have seemed to peculiar. The elder hunter's face was still red, and damp from unknown tears. A random shirt was being squeezed tightly in his fist so as Dean's knuckles now stuck out in white contrast.

"Umm," Sam paused, "Are you?"

Dean quickly nodded, and seemed to become aware of himself as he dropped the shirt and feebly wiped away at the tears, "I'm- I'm fine."

"Dude," a smirk pulled at Sam's features, "No you aren't." cautiously Sam took two steps towards Dean, who was now standing up, "What's wrong?"

A gentle hand was placed on Dean's shoulder, and for a moment Dean let it stay there; feeling the wet and cold through his own cotton t-shirt.

'Damn, he must be freezing,' Dean thought worriedly before his thoughts suddenly turned on him, 'Damn you Sammy! Making me always worry about your ass!'

"Dean--" Sam interrupted his thoughts.

"I was just thinking," Dean spoke quietly.

"About what?" Sam questioned.

Dean shook his head before moving away, his back to Sam. It was a long minute before either Winchester moved or spoke.

"Dean," Sam was the one to break the silence, "Dean…do you really hate me?"

Dean turned around, new, fresh tears rolling their way down his face, "Yeah Sammy… I do."

Sam stood there, a mixture of stunned and hurt plastered on his wet face. Dean couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw tears creeping their way down as well. The silence was far less drawn out this time before a smile crept to Dean's face, followed quickly by a confused look from Sam.

"But," Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder gently and affectionately, "You know I love you, right?"

The End.