[Prudery]

Something I did when I was bored. Hope you like it! Rated mature for some language.



Dean leaned back in the diner booth, a dirty smirk on his face. Sam glared at him. "No." He leaned in towards Sam. He loved making Sam this uncomfortable about women.

"C'mon man, she's sweet on you."

"I'm not going over there and flirting with her." Dean smiled. Sam stared out the window, ignoring him.

"If you ever wanna have a good time," He pointed to the waitress who kept looking over at them. "There's one just waitin' for ya right there." Sam shook his head.

"No." Dean sighed.

"You're a hopeless case Sammy. You don't even know a good and easy time when you see one."

"I don't need to have a good and easy time with some waitress I don't even know."

"You go over there and you'll know her tonight."

"Shut up." The tone was low and cold.

"Does that mean you want her?"

"It means you need to shut up before I come over there and shut you up myself." Dean shrugged. He leaned back and put his arm on the back of the booth.

"You don't want her, I'll take her." Sam glared at him again.

"Let's just go." He slid out of the booth and headed for the register to pay the bill. The waitress was waiting for them there. Dean smiled at her, his eyes traveling up and down her body. Hers were doing the same with Sam. She leaned over the counter a little. Sam averted his eyes from her, the low neckline making him nervous. It had been higher before.

"I never actually caught your name." She said. He swallowed back a hard lump. Women like this always creeped him out.

"Sam." She smiled wider, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"I'm Linda." He smiled and nodded at her politely. Dean stepped on Sams foot, making him look at him. Dean jerked his head at her a little. Sam looked away from him, handing her the money. She clicked the keys on the register and handed him the receipt.

"Thanks." She stopped him from turning away.

"You going to be back later?"

"Maybe. We're a bit busy tonight." Dean heard his tone get a little nervous. She plucked the receipt from his hands and wrote a phone number on the back.

"I get off at eight if you want someone to talk to tonight." He smiled at her, then walked a bit quickly toward the door. Dean followed him around the corner on the diner towards the parking lot. Sam stopped near a trash bin and looked at the number. Dean watched him crumble it up and throw it away.

"Aww, don't do that. She liked you." He said, rolling his eyes.

"I didn't like her."

"Did you take a look at her body?" His fingers traced a figure in the air.

"I don't give a damn about what she looked like." Dean turned and walked toward the car door.

"Dude, that waitress was so sweet on you. You could've had her down o-" He broke off and turned around to look at Sam, surprised that he hadn't said anything yet. He was staring at the ground, a hard, pained look on his face. His hand clutched the fender of the Impala, putting most of his weight on it. "Sam?" He watched as Sam crumbled down onto the ground, rolling himself into a ball. "Sam!" Dean kneeled down next to him and took his head in his hands. Sams body started convulsing rhythmically as each wave of pain from the vision hit him. He curled himself up tighter, trying to shut out the world that was attempting to destroy him. He barely even noticed that Dean was holding him tight against himself as his body kept tearing itself apart from the inside. He screamed as a terrifying image formed itself in front of his eyes. He smelled the blood and heard the choking sounds coming from the demons victim.

"Stop, please!" He yelled, putting his hands over his head in an attempt to shut out the murderous scene in front of him. He was now oblivious to everything, nothing getting through into his disturbed mind. He couldn't even tell what his own body was doing anymore. The only thing he could be sure of was the scene in front of him that wouldn't leave even if he shut his eyes. It stayed there, sending shockwaves of fear and pain through him. One conscious thought slipped through the barrior the vision had put up. Just ride it out. He clung to it with everything he had left, waiting for everything to go away.

The image began to fade out of his view, and with it the pain started to leave, though the fear was still deeply implanted in his heart. He soon became aware of the fact that someone was holding him and rocking him back and forth. He noticed that a familiar voice was saying something in his ear, the tone soothing and understanding. "You comin' back to me Sammy?" He felt and hand lift his head up out of his curled body. "C'mon Sam, come back to me." He blinked and looked up into Deans anxious face. He brushed the hair off of Sams face and helped him sit up. "You okay?"

Sam shivered as the cold air hit him. "Not really." Every last part of his body ached, it was the result of the vision. He noticed a sour taste in his mouth, making him want to gag. Wet streaks ran up and down his face. Wat they were he couldn't tell. Dean came around in front of him and held his head in his hands again, looking in Sams eyes for any sign of anything bad.

"You haven't had one like that in a while." The words vibrated in his skull. He knew it would keep doing it until tomorrow at the soonest, migraines didn't leave easily. Dean wiped a streak of dirt off his face with his sleeve and let go of him. It wasn't a good idea. Sam fell back down on the ground, too sore and tired to hold himself up. Just before he drifted into unconsciousness he felt Dean pick him up, murmuring, "I'll take care of you Sammy, don't worry."


**********************************************************

Sam woke up back in the motel room. All the windows were shut, leaving him in the dark. He didn't mind. migraines and light didn't exactly go together. He gradually became more aware of himself and the area around him. Someone had taken off his shoes, belt, and over shirt, and had wrapped two blankets around him tightly. Not a sound was to be heard but his own unsteady breathing and quick heartbeat. An odd mix of bile and cleaner permeated the air, making his already upset stomach feel worse.

He thought he was alone in the room until he heard someone come up next to him and sit down near his hips. "How you feelin' Sammy?"

"Do the words, 'rather be in hell' have any meaning?" He watched Deans shadowy figure move closer to him. A cool hand touched his forehead.

"How's your stomach? Still feel like throwing up?" The blankets were pulled up higher around his freezing body.

"Did I...?"

"Couple times." That explained the odd smell. Sam pulled his arms out of the blankets and sat up. "You might not want to do that yet." The room whirled into a mess of shadows and dark, making him dizzy. He fell back and rolled over, shoving his face into the pillow. "Told ya." Dean waited a minute before getting up. "I'm gonna go check out the Perkins place. Be back in a while okay?"

"I'm not four." Came the muffled reply.

"Then don't act like it."


***********************************************************


Dean inserted the key in the lock and twisted it, opening the door. He shut it behind him, becoming aware of the sounds from the bathroom. He knocked gently on the door. "Sam?" He was answered by the sound of someone retching and water hitting water. He leaned on the door jam and waited for him to come out. When he didn't come, Dean opened it himself. Sam didn't take notice of him, too busy retching so hard his whole body shook from the force of it. Dean held his head still as he continued emptying every last bit of matter from his stomach. Sam stopped and stayed there, panting hard and shaking. "What'd you do, get drunk and eat crappy bar food?" Sam moaned and leaned his head against his arm. Dean rubbed Sams shoulders gently. It didn't do much.

"Not even funny." Dean patted him on the back.

"You done now or do you still need to cough up your spleen?" Sam spit out as much of the remaining taste and got his legs back under himself. Dean helped him up and leaned him over the sink. "Rinse 'n spit Sammy."

"'Ve been through this before." He said before sticking his toothbrush in his mouth. Dean leaned against the door and watched him.

"Yeah, like the time you vomited all over the car. What did you eat? I'm sure we can find some of it still in there."

"Shut up." He groaned, shutting off the water and leaving the room. Dean watched him rummage through the duffel bag he had left on the bed.

"What're you looking for?" Sam didn't answer, continuing to search through the bag. Dean got in next to him and dug through, soon finding the pink bottle he knew Sam had been looking for. "Here." He snatched it out of Dean hand, drinking the liquid straight out of the bottle. He sat down on the edge of the bed, slumping his shoulders forward and leaning against his thighs. Dean took the bag off the bed and pulled the blankets down at the edge of the bed. "C'mon Sammy, let's get you back in bed."

"I'm not a child." The growled words were barely audible, yet Dean heard them clearly and straightened his back, staring at him.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Where'd that come from?" The next words were mumbled, he only caught something about wishing he was gone. "What?"

"I said I wish you'd just get the hell outta here so I wouldn't have to feel like a kid." He yelled, anger rising in him. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?" Sam didn't even look at him. He crossed his arms, not sure of what to do next. "I thought you liked the fact that I took care of you."

"You never asked, did you?"

"If it bothered you that much, why didn't you say something?"

"I thought it was painfully obvious, but I guess I have to spell it out for the brain dead moron to see." Dean responded to the blow to his pride likewise.

"Maybe if you didn't act like such a baby I wouldn't have to treat you like one." Voices were raised now. Anger was boiling over on both sides of the fight.

"Maybe if you actually stepped outside your precious sex driven bubble you'd give me a chance to prove I'm not that stupid ten year old anymore you would know. But the only thought in your mind is to find some random chick and bed her."

"Do you think I'd even be here if that was all that mattered to me? I can't exactly have a good time with you, no matter how much of a girl you act like."

"You came back after stopping in a bar and getting someones number."

"N-"

"You smell like cigarette smoke and you have a number written on your left hand." The accusation hit him hard because it was true. Sam was now standing up. Both of them were on edge.

"If that's the only thing I care about, then why do I keep coming back to you when I could be having a good time with someone? Why do I make sure you're okay and provided for?"

"You don't get laid, you have to come back alone."

"You sayin' I can't handle being alone?"

"Good job Dean. What else do you know?"

"It's not true!"

"Then what is the truth?" He fell silent for a moment.

"Who else is going to take care of you if I don't?"

"I was doing just fine in school before you pulled me out. I had a job, a girlfriend, and I was two years from getting a freakin' degree. If you hadn't come Jess would have been fine. We would have been fine. Now she's dead Dean, so is any hope of getting back to school and normal life."

"Dad was missing."

"He's not anymore, is he? He's dead Dean, you don't need me anymore, and I sure as hell don't need you." Dean grabbed his jacket of the chair.

"Then I guess I'll take my sex driven bubble and go."

"Good. Have fun with that stripper, it seems to be the only thing you're good at." Dean forced himself to keep the hard look on his face as he felt his pride melt into his stomach. He grabbed his two duffel bags and slammed the door behind him, leaving Sam alone for good.



**************************************************

It had been four hours since Dean had left Sam, and those four ours had hurt like hell until he went back to the bar. The girl he had been looking for wasn't there, and that left him alone in the bar, sucking back a third glass of gin. The alcohol numbed the memories that haunted him worse than any other creature had in the past. Nothing really hurt anymore, not even the fact that his brother had told him the truth about what he thought he was. As the time passed, he started to believe it too.

He watched a small TV screen in the back of the room flicker a baseball game on its screen. He didn't usually watch sports, but tonight wasn't really a normal night for him. The screen got fuzzy quick as the gin started taking effect on his body. He already had a room in the motel across the street, he was just reluctant to go to it. The bartender walked over to him, drying a glass with a towel. "'Nother round buddy?" Dean shook his head.

"No, I'm good thanks." The bartender leaned over the counter.

"What's got y' down buddy? I've seen your type come through here a lot, and none of em ever turned down strong gin."

"So I'm the type who really likes to get drunk?"

"No, you're the type who likes to get really drunk only if you have someone to drive you home. You're careful but you like to have fun." Dean gave him a crooked smile.

"Guess that's me." He said, leaning his buzzing head against his arm.

"So what's goin' on? Like I said, you're not the kind to turn down a good drink." He didn't answer, just folded his arms on the table. "Your ride leave ya?" He looked up at him sharply. The bartender nodded. "Thought so. He was more than your ride wasn't he?"

"Brother."

"Not getting along are we?"

"Ask the stubborn ass who won't listen." He nodded.

"Well, just remember, it takes two stubborn ass' to make a bad fight. You sure you don't want anything else?" Dean didn't respond right away, his gaze still fixed on a knot in the wood. He looked up after a minute before speaking.

"Huh? Oh, no, I'm gonna call it quits for the night." He put a twenty on the table in front of him. "Thanks." He walked out, a lot of things weighing heavy on his mind. He heard the bartender call back at him.

"Good luck t' ya young man."


********************************************************************

Four days passed, and not a word had been spoken between the two brother. Dean worked alone to track the demon down alone for the first time in two years. He didn't even know what Sam was doing. The last time he had seen him was in a coffee shop, and he didn't even look at him. Dean had stopped him on his way out, trying to get him to talk again. The only words he got were, "I don't need you anymore Dean. You may need me but I'm not going to be there for you when you fail at something." Since then he had blotted him out of his thoughts as often as he could, which was why he was so glad to have this case to himself for once. It kept him busy without someone else to do background checks while he went out to see the families or the bodies.

The mess of papers that were spread across the table were proof of this. He had gone through every detail he needed in order to pinpoint the demons location for tonight. He circled the address to an abandoned barn on the outskirts of town and leaned back in his chair. He had every weapon he needed clean and ready, the tools of death gleaming in the light. The only thing left to do now was wait an hour and a half for midnight. Dean kicked back on the bed and flipped casually through the few channels on the TV. His mind drifted back to the night Sam had told him the truth. It hurt just to think about it. He had stripped Dean of everything he took pride in, leaving only a jagged, aching, empty hole in his chest. He forced it out of his mind, reluctant to admit that he had hurt him. The only thing Sam hadn't outright attacked was Deans dignity as a man, and he refused to admit that he had damaged that in a roundabout way. He crossed his arms, forcing himself to pay attention to the show in front of him.


The time passed agonizingly slow, and he moved quickly when the time came to leave. Dean drove out to the address, hiding his car in the shrubs behind the property. He got everything together, checking for extra shots and hiding knives in several places in his clothes. "Showtime." He breathed, walking up to the broken down barn. It was empty and dark. A perfect hiding place for a blood thirsty demon. Dean walked into the middle of the room, looking into every shadow for a sign of movement. He pulled the gun out of his pocket and held it in front of his shoulders, half singing a demon summoning chant. He twisted around as he heard something move behind him. A red eyed figure stood before him, it's fangs gleaming in the pale moonlight. It's features were twisted and disfigured, giving him a disgusting appearance. The atrocious sight before Dean had little effect on him, he was used to this sort of thing.


"If you're not the ugliest bastard I've seen since Casper I don't know what is." He said as he fired, sending the salt bullet into the demons body. It screeched in pain, the sound tearing at Deans ear drums and making him want to scream. He watched a bright white glow spread from the bullet hole, the salt taking its tole on the monsters body. He fired again, embedding another chunk of salt in its chest. These shots were just to buy him time. He had to reload with real bullets and fast before it got back on top. He yanked the shots out of his pocket and tried to load the gun. He froze in alarm as he saw the steel barrel clogged with a mix of gun powder and salt. "Sonofabitch!" He cursed. He looked up in time to see the demons hand sweep down onto his neck, picking him up a foot off the ground. It screamed in his face, its barbed tongue lashing out. Dean gasped, trying to get more air into his burning lungs. The demon squeezed tighter, cutting off his airway completely. Black spots began swarming around his eyes as more oxygen left his body. He could feel the life getting pulled right out of him.

A loud crack pulled him back to reality. The demon dropped him and screamed as black blood began pouring from its back. Dean gasped and choked air back into his lungs as he watched from the ground. The demons body shrunk until the only thing left was a pool of blood on the floor. He laid there panting, getting as much of his strength back before he had to face whatever had killed the demon. A figure towered over him, blocking out the little moonlight that had been there. Dean grabbed hold of a knife from inside his shirt, ready to fight to the death if he had to.

"You're not going to try and knife me down are ya?" Dean squinted at the figure. Sams features became more apparent the harder he looked. It hurt just to do that.

"Sam?" A large hand reached down and took his, pulling him to his unsteady feet.

"You didn't think I'd leave you to this yourself did you?"

"You made that clear a couple days ago." Sam dug his hands into his pockets, looking down at the blood as if it were an everyday object.

"I've been thinking since then. And, I'm sorry, for saying all that. I didn't mean it." Dean rubbed his bruised neck, getting more blood to flow through it.

"Yeah you did."

"Okay, maybe I meant some of it, but I didn't mean that I think you're just some sex driven animal. I know you try to take care of me." Dean picked up his gun from the ground, though it took a lot to keep from sitting down next to it rather than picking it up. "So, I'm sorry."

"Hey, I'm sure I did a lot of pushing to get you to that point." Sam shrugged.

"I could've acted better." Dean walked out of the barn. Sam following him close behind.

"You can't blame yourself. I know a vision screws you up a lot. Especially one like that." Dean opened the trunk and shoved the gun and knives under the bags. Sam tossed his gun in next to them. He slammed the trunk shut, leaning on it.

"C'mon take a swing at me." Dean looked at him oddly. Sam looked at him blankly.

"What?"

"Do it. I won't hit you back." Dean leaned farther on the trunk until his elbows were on it.

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"C'mon, do it." Dean looked at him as if he had lobsters crawling out his ears.

"I'm not gonna hit you for no reason." Sam shifted his weight.

"You have a reason. Now do it." He shook his head.

"No Sam."

"C'mon. You know you're pissed at me. Take it out on me. Do it." Dean slid his body up to stand straight.

"If I do it will you shut up?" He nodded. Dean shrugged. "You asked for it." His fist connected with Sams face hard. He grunted at the impact and rolled his face away so nothing would get broken. Dean looked at him tiredly as Sam stood straight again. "There. Can we go now?" Sam shifted his jaw a little.

"Yeah." Dean reached into his pocket for the keys and tossed them at Sam.

"Good. You're driving. I can barely even stand right now." Sam slid into the drivers seat as Dean sat down next to him.

"Still seeing spots?"

"A little." Sam turned the key in the ignition, starting the engine instantly.

"'Should probably get checked." He shook his head before leaning it against the window.

"Just need to sleep it off." They were both silent a while, listening to the hum of the engine and thinking their own thoughts. Dean was the first to break the silence. "What was it that you saw in your vision?" Sam gripped the steering wheel a little harder, sighing uncomfortably.

"I saw you. Getting strangled by a demon." Dean looked at him seriously.

"For real?"

"No, I actually saw a fuzzy blue rabbit eat a carrot that didn't stand a chance. Yes for real." Dean looked down at the floor, realizing how close he had gotten to death.

"This was the first time you were able to stop a vision from really happening." Sam nodded, a blank look on his face. He stared at the road ahead without shifting his gaze. Dean hit him in the arm gently. "Thanks Sam." He looked at Dean, no real emotion showing on his face. Deans expression twisted. "You're not going to go all chick flick on me are ya?" Sam smiled.

"I can hear slow music start to play in the background. Wanna dance?" Dean hit him harder this time.

"Bitch." The familiar game sealed them back together. The fight was now behind them and forgotten completely.

"Jerk." Dean settled back in his seat, content and relaxed knowing that they were back together again.

End.

[whereisbook4]

That could have been better. Where was the demon they had to vanquish? Where was the spirits and specters that all seem to want to kill people? Where was the episode? I've seen episodes like that where all of that happens in about 5-10 minutes, tops. Then they hook back up and go kill something to celebrate.

[Prudery]

That could have been better. Where was the demon they had to vanquish? Where was the spirits and specters that all seem to want to kill people? Where was the episode? I've seen episodes like that where all of that happens in about 5-10 minutes, tops. Then they hook back up and go kill something to celebrate.

Well, seeing as this is a FIC, it's not exactly like an episode. So that's why there are no spirits or anything like that. And seeing as Dean nearly got killed, I didn't think they needed to go out and kill some more.

So it's not supposed to be a danged episode. It's a fic.

[whereisbook4]

Regaurdless, I stand by my rating.