Chapter 2

"Well, I would say we definitely have some work ahead of us but what is ever free in this life, ya know?" she joked and Sam nodded absentmindedly before leaving the small office, his head down. Lucy or Lucilia stepped in front of John as he went to exit the room too.

"Do you think Sam trusts you?" John stepped back a little and then shrugged.

"Yeah, why?" Lucy or Lucilia shook her head and shrugged too, stepping out of John's way.

"Just curious, the way all therapists are. Have a good day Mr. Winchester," she said with a small smile before walking over to her desk.

"She's weird," was the first thing John said once he got back into the car where Dean and Sam had been waiting for him.

"No kidding," Dean grumbled.

Sam listened along as he stared out the window.

"You sure we didn't blow this whole thing out of proportion, it's just a phase-" John started but Dean cut him off.

"Dad, Sam needs help. This won't just pass on its own," and Sam had to say he was surprised to hear Dean offer up such an incitement. "This will be good for him," Dean reassured. John sighed and started up the car.

"Yeah, yeah I know."

It always amazed Sam how Dean handled their father, almost as if he was the father, talking to him slowly with an exasperation that only a parent could hone. God forbid Sam do the same though, or say anything for that matter.

When they got home, Sam headed straight for the stairs and into his room. "Sam!" Dean called after him, hot on his heels. Sam rolled his eyes as he threw off his hoodie and onto his bed. It was making his arms itch like crazy.

"Sam, you better n-" Dean stood frozen in the doorway as he took in Sam's arms again. Sam just shook his head and walked into his bathroom, shedding his T-shirt too, and dropping it onto the bathroom floor leaving him in only jeans. Dean had followed him, wordlessly, and stood on the threshold. "What are you doing?" he asked quietly, staring at the floor. Sam walked over to the shower and pushed back the curtain.

"Showering," he said simply as he turned on the facet. Dean licked his lips and nodded.

"Yeah, um- okay," and then he left. Sam could have laughed at the look on Dean's face, you would have thought Sam tried to cut him, Dean was so spooked.

In the shower, Sam let the hot water pound down onto his arms, his eyes squeezed shut. It burned viciously but it was good, great even. Exactly what Sam needed. Sam let out a moan as the water continued to beat down harshly against his arms but bit his lip to prevent any more from slipping out. Whether they were from the pain or the complete relief Sam felt, that line was blurred. Sam's head was tilted back as the pain washed over him in waves. He finally opened his eyes about two minutes later and looked down at his arms. The cuts were red and raw and looked every bit as painful as it was. Sam eased his arms out of the water and examined them. The lines were all horizontal, long, and about an inch deep. They were perfect. Sam washed his body, making sure to avoid his arms, only rinsing his hair, and then got out of the shower.

Sam opened his bathroom door with one hand holding his towel around his waist. Sitting on his bed was Dean. "I need to get dressed," Sam said blandly and walked over to his closet.

"That's fine, you can talk to me while you do." Sam whirled around at that.

"You're not watching me get dressed," and the usually tired, and quiet voice Sam spoke in was gone. This time, Sam was firm and almost offended.

"To make sure you aren't cutting yourself, hell yell I am," Dean stood up from the bed. Sam shook his head, his teeth gritted.

"Like hell you are," he said, dangerously low, and the hand that held his towel up clenched tightly. Dean shook his head slowly, almost looking sympathetic but Sam honestly didn't care. He was over the "we want the best for you in a manly way" act. Dean would not be privy to his exposed body, he would have to kill him and Sam meant that deeply.

"Sam, I'm not asking-"

"Good," Sam said with a venom that Dean had never heard before. "You and Dad searched this room up and down, if there was anything you have found it," Sam explained desperately holding onto his temper. Dean shook his head again.

"You know I have to Sam," Dean said, feeling a bit aggravated himself and Sam was dangerously close to losing his own patience.

"Get. The fuck. Out," Sam warned and it was the way that Sam said it that made Dean do what he did next. Sam was defensive, up for a fight if it meant getting Dean out of the room and Dean was aware of that. He had to change his approach if he had any chance of getting Sam to hear him. For once, since this whole situation started, Dean let his hard exterior melt away.

Dean took a step forward, his arms open and Sam looked at them, visibly confused. "It's okay Sam," Dean said, getting closer as he continued to step forward quietly. Sam took a small step back.

"Sam-"

"Out Dean," Sam's defense hadn't slackened at all. He was still on alert and his instincts were kicking and screaming for him to remove Dean from the room. Come on Sammy, it'll be fun

At any cost.

"Sam-" Dean tried again but something in him snapped at that moment. Maybe it was the placating gesture or the tone, Sam didn't know but suddenly adrenaline was rushing through his body giving him everything he needed to smash his fist into his brother's face.

Sam watched as Dean's head snapped back and to the left with the force of his assault. Dean immediately cupped both hands over his nose as red, thickness began to sprout out of it. Sam tightened his hold on his towel, rummaged quickly through his closet for clothes, and then made a mad dash back into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"Sam!" Dean called as he ran past him.

Sam paced in the bathroom as he heard his brother on the other side of the door moan and grunt in pain, occasionally calling out his name. Sam was surprised he still hadn't called out for their father five minutes later.

"Sammmm!" Dean called and this time he sounded closer and less muffled.

Sam covered his ears and pressed down, hard. He needed Dean to leave him alone, time to think, and for Dean to shut the hell up. He hadn't wanted to punch Dean but no way in hell was Sam going to let Dean watch him get dressed. No. Never. He hadn't been left with any other choice so he punched Dean and in the moment, he was glad. Now, with an ailing Dean calling out to him miserably, he wasn't. Stupid, stupid guilt. Now, the only thing he wanted was to cut, and cut until his fucking arm fell off because the feeling blooming in his chest was unbearable. He needed his knife and once again that adrenaline kicked in and Sam thrust the door open, leaving the door knob practically spinning.

Sam stalked over to Dean before crouching in front of where he sat on the bed. "Sam," Dean sighed and reached one hand up to his shirt giving Sam a mostly clear view of his nose. Sam had to choke down a gag because, damn, he did a number on Dean. His nose was almost black and absolutely saturated in dark, red blood. Every bit of it was swollen, and it looked lumpy with the bones sticking up underneath the skin in odd places. Sam felt a twinge of guilt looking at his brother but then his mind refocused and the only thing he could think was how much he wanted his knife back.

"Where is my knife?" Sam asked, low but firm. Dean moaned and dropped his hand from Sam's shirt, turning away as much as he could, which was really just a tilt of his head.

"Dad!" Dean screamed out before Sam clamped his hand over Dean's mouth.

"None of that," Sam declared steely. Dean moaned as Sam applied pressure to the part of his nose closest to his upper lip. Sam eased up slightly but raised his eyebrows still in pursuit, "where is it?" Dean mumbled something incomprehensible.

"What?" Sam asked impatiently, glancing toward his bedroom door. The adrenaline was starting to slink away leaving him feeling every bit of anxious that he was. It was crumbling his resolve to get the knife at any cost.

"N-no" Dean choked out. Sam stared down at his brother feeling something new. Indignant. Adrenaline did not accompany this feeling. Then he let another fist fly into Dean's face, efficiently knocking him out. Sam looked down at his slumped brother momentarily before patting him down for any semblance of something sharp.

No dice.