Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Unfortunately.

This is my first attempt at Supernatural fic. I am not asking you to be nice. But… Well… Please, be reasonable when you decide to flame me.

"When you were trapping that demon, you weren't... I mean, it was all a trick, right? You never considered actually making that deal, right?"

Dean didn't answer but instead turn the radio on full volume. Sam flinched and clenched his teeth. If there was one thing that he hated about his brother, it was his absolute confidence in his right to do whatever he considered reasonable to do with his life. Whatever he thought was good for his family. For Sam. For Dad. However, the main words here were "he" and "thought".

Sam turned the radio off and said slowly and distinctly: "Don't. You. Ever. Dare. Calling. Me. Selfish. Bastard. After. This." Dean stared at him in utter confusion and disbelief. But Sam just turned the radio on again, leaned on the seat, and closed his eyes.

The road was silent after that with Sam pretending to sleep and Dean pretending to listen to music. It was a couple of hours later when Dean stopped the car near a motel. Sam opened the door and with the words "I'll check us in" left the car. Dean frowned, torn between irritation in concern. Never before had he seen Sam in such a mood. No. He had seen Sam angry, frustrated, irritated… What was happening now was more of a cold fury than of Sam's usual anger at Dean. Finally deciding that "it will pass," Dean left the car as well. Sam came returned a couple of minutes later.

"We are in the Room 14", he said stiffly, retrieving his bag and his laptop from the car.

"Sammy… I…" started Dean, needing to have some sort of a conversation with Sam, to make sure that everything was OK between them.

Apparently, it wasn't because Sam coldly cut him off: "It's Sam. How many times do I have to tell you?"

He went to their room without giving Dean a chance to react. Dean let out a frustrated sight. That was a low blow. It was for the first time since their Father's death that Sam asked Dean not to call him Sammy. And it hurt Dean more than he wanted to admit even to himself.

"Dude! That's not funny! What got into you?" Dean asked entering the room. He still hoped to turn it all into a joke.

Sam just shrugged "Nothing. I'll take the show first, if you don't mind."

"I do mind, Sam," Dean wanted to shout.

"I know you are angry with me. I know you'll never understand how I fill! It's me who should have stayed dead! Not you! But I didn't take the deal! Isn't that enough for you?!" But he just shook his head and let Sam go to the bathroom.

Sam emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes late, drying his hair with the towel. Dean was flipping through the channels. "I really I hope you left me some hot water, Sam." He said as nonchalantly as he could.

"Think I did" Sam replied.

There didn't seem to be any anger in his voice, suppressed or not, and Dean risked a question.

"Are we… Are we okay, Sammy?" he asked looking at his brother intently.

Sam looked at him thoughtfully as if deciding whether they really were okay. Then he sight: "Yes, Dean. We are. But it's Sam."