"When you trapped that Demon, you didn't…I mean it was all a trap right? You never considered actually making a deal with it…right?"

Dean turned off the melancholy blues and switched on Metallica , gripping the steering wheel tightly. Sam looked away in response, tears filling his eyes.

He turned his body into the door and placed his forehead against the cool glass of the window.

He just had to keep it together for five minutes. Then they'd be at the hotel and Sam could lock himself safely away in the bathroom

He wasn't sure how many times he'd done that since Jess died; too many to count. Every vision, every hunt gone wrong, every bad fight with Dean, for nights after Dad died-Sam locked himself in the bathroom, turned on the shower, and cried. Sometimes it was just a few tears, others a breakdown. He couldn't talk to Dean, not every time. If Dean didn't initiate the feelings, then they couldn't exist.

A single tear ran unchecked down his cheek, and Sam hastily wiped his eyes. 'Three more minutes.' He sniffed and pressed his head harder into the window.

As Dean pulled into the parking lot, Sam jumped out and swiftly walked towards the door.

Dean grabbed the bags and shuffled after him. Unlocking the door, Dean cleared his throat as his brother made his way to the bathroom.

"Sammy," Sam stopped and his eyes flicked to the elder. "I gotta take a leak, man. Make it quick."

Sam clenched his jaw but stepped away. "Nah, go ahead." Somehow he had managed to keep his voice from breaking.

Dean tossed his jacket on the bed and shut the door with a 'click'.

Plopping onto the nearest bed, Sam put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. 'You're loosing him.' A quiet sob escaped as he tried to collect himself; Dean would be out any second.

Dean zipped up his jeans and turned on the faucet. He splashed the cold water on his flushed cheeks and shook his head back and forth. Looking up, he caught a glimpse of his reflection. His green eyes traced his chiseled face; droplets of water lingered on his chin.

"People talk about Hell, but it's just a word. It doesn't even come close to describing the real thing."

"If you could see your poor Daddy; hear the sounds he makes because he can't even scream…"

"You did know about your Dad's deal, right? His life for yours?"

Dean bit down hard on his trembling lip and the taste of copper touched his tongue.

"You could have ten years-a happy little family. You, daddy, and Sammy."

Dean smashed his fist into the mirror, shards of glass falling into the porcelain sink.

"Dean?" he heard Sam call. He placed his hands on the sink and watched the drops of blood run from his knuckles, down the side, and into the drain.

"Dean?" Sam jiggled the knob and worked the lock, opening it slowly once picked. "Hey…" Seeing the broken mirror, his eyes trailed down to the scarlet drops in white basin. "Dean-"

"I'm fine Sam." He grabbed a white towel and wrapped it around his fist. Pushing past his brother, he sat on the bed and leaned back, sighing. Sam dejectedly began collecting the shards and putting them in the garbage can. Turning, he glanced at Dean, lying on the mattress: a red-soaked towel in his hand, his breathing shallow as he struggled to compose himself.

Sam shut the door and shuffled to the closed-lid of the toilet. A sob escaped as he sat down heavily.

"I was dead, I should've stayed dead."

"Dammit, Dean." He wanted to punch something, throw something, do something to make the pain go away. Putting his elbows on his knees, Sam leant over and wrapped his arms around his head, blocking out the emotions the best he could. Gulping down air, he tried to not cry for once. He had to go talk to his brother; he had to be the strong one.

"Sammy…" Dean's voice was muffled by the door and, though it was unlocked, he didn't open it. "I-I'm sorry." Sam slid to the tile and crawled to the door, leaning against it and listening to the elder. "I just can't take it anymore; I can't live like this." His voice broke and he too leant against the door. Both were oblivious to the fact the they were in the exact same position; heads against the wood, hand touching the side in an unconscious attempt to connect with the other. "Two people have died when I should have…" he voice wobbled and Sam stood silently. "I miss Mom. I miss Dad." Dean let out a quiet sob and Sam swung open the door, catching Dean as he fell when the latter moved.

Dean tensed in his brother's hold but Sam relentlessly tightened his grip. He let out a choked sob as Sam cupped his neck and massaged it gently. "I know." Sam's voice was thick and husky, as he attempted to keep his own tears at bay. "I know it's hard. But you have to keep going. I need you, Dean." His breath caught in his throat and Dean went slack in his arms.

"You're all I've got, I'm all you've got. We can make it." Sam squeezed his brother. "Together."

"No." Dean shook his head and pulled back, tears brimming in his hazel eyes. "I want to believe that, Sammy. I do…but I can't. Dad is in Hell. He's living with the things he spent half his life hunting. I can't be ok knowing I caused it." Dean stood up and bolted for the door.

"Dean!" Sam scrambled after him but turned back, deciding to give him a few minutes. Sam reached for their jackets and the keys to the car, hoping his brother would be trying to find the nearby bar or walking along the road. He was shocked to see his brother sprawled on the hood of the Impala.

"Hey…" Sam raised the leather jacket as a peace gesture. When Dean didn't respond, he simply sat down on the car and folded it in his lap.

"What could you possibly say to make that ok?"

"I don't know." Sam whispered.

"What?" Dean craned his neck and raised an eyebrow at his brother.

"What?" Sam asked back.

"You don't know what?" Dean propped himself up on his elbows and waited.

'I said that out loud?' Sam blinked and shrugged, his throat tightening. "I don't know how to help you."

Dean laid back down and casually swiped his eyes. "Sammy, you can't. It isn't your job." He shivered in the cool night breeze. Sam felt it and scooted closer to his brother, draping his coat over his chest. "Thanks." Dean sat up and slipped his arms into the coat sleeves. "Hey Sammy?'

"Yeah?" Sam moved again so his shoulder touched his brother's.

"You know I'd never leave you intentionally, right?" Dean looked at him and blinked back tears. "I mean…you're the reason I'm still here in the first place."

Sam nodded, touched. "Yeah, man. I know." He smiled and took a deep, shaky breath. "I just wish I could help."

Dean unexpectedly pulled Sam against him in a tight embrace. "You are." Sam wrapped his lanky arms around his brother and rocked him, long fingers running through his short hair. Dean sobbed into his chest and Sam's heart rate sped up as he too broke down.

"Dad wouldn't have wanted you to make that deal. His death would have been in vain." Sam cleared his throat and Dean laid down again, pulling Sam with him. Sam's head rested in the crook of Dean's neck and on his shoulder. "The last thing he would want is for you to join him." Sam put his hand on the elder's chest, over his heart, and let it linger there. "We're never alone, Dean."

He felt Dean pull him closer and his chest heaved with a suppressed sob. "I know." He whispered. "Thanks, Sammy."

"Come on," Sam stood and tapped Dean's knee. "We need to fix your hand." He gestured at the dried blood caking the elder Winchester's hand. "And Dean?" Sam glanced at his brother who nodded, "I'm never going to leave you intentionally again either." A small smile flashed across his face and Dean fell into step with him, gently nudging his ribs and knocking him off balance. "I love you too, jerk."

"Bitch."