"What that hell, Dean!" The ground must have shaken at the force used to slam the motel room door. Sam had held it in long enough, for the entirety of the car ride back to be more specific, and quite frankly he'd wanted to yell sooner…but a car wreck was the last thing they needed now.

Dean had entered the room before him, shoulders hunched in that stand offish way and feet shuffling in a hurry, red light signals of a 'I don't want to talk so don't even open your freaking mouth' big brother. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Dean half turned, his wet boots squashing against the mustard colored carpet and his soaked leather jacket slapping against his jeans, "Sam-" As if the warning enough in his name would immediately cause him to stop.

"You almost got us both killed tonight, and you don't even care!" Sam closed the distance between them in only a few strides, chest tight in a mixture of panic and frustration which had been steadily growing over the last few hunts. "When I yell drop, you're supposed to fucking drop! You're the one who taught me that Dean! Not turn around and face it!" Sam was sure his face was red and as he yelled his eyes gauged his older brother for his reaction, trying to read him like he'd been able to his entire life. "I could've shot you! What you did was reckless and stupid!"

Silence fell over the room, but for the steady 'drip drip drip' of rain water running off their clothes and Sam's slightly heavy breathing. At last Dean glanced fleetingly up at Sam's face, expression stone like and ice cold. "You done?" After a few seconds, he turned away, but Sam stepped to catch up with him and cut him off.

"No! I'm not done; now tell me what the hell is going on with you!"

The vein in Dean's forehead bulged, and Sam knew this as a sign that his elder sibling was far angrier than he appeared, but if Sam hadn't learned already in the past twenty five years when to stop pushing than he certainly wasn't going to learn now. Dean drew in a breath, voice deep in controlled calm, "Sam, I'm warning you, drop it. Get out of my way."

"Since we've started back hunting you've been diving around like an idiot trying to do everything! I'm lucky if I even get to hold the salt, much less get a glimpse of whatever we're hunting! You find every excuse to put me out of the action and I've had it up to here wi-"

Apparently Dean had had enough of being lectured and before Sam knew it, angry hands were fisted in his jacket lapels, furious green orbs staring into his and a booming voice cutting him off, "Shut the hell up Sam! I'm doing the best I can, considering there's a freaking apocalypse going on outside our door!" Sam couldn't stop the flinch, feeling the underlying blame in that sentence. "All I'm doing is protecting myself on the hunt, there is nothing else going on so just leave me the hell alone!"

Sam forgot about trying to pry Dean's fingers loose and instead allowed the small abuse, not having the heart to risk any physical confrontation after the events leading up to Lilith's death. "God damn it, Dean! Since when do you 'protect yourself' on a hunt, we cover each other! It's what we've been doing since we were kids! Don't you trust me to have your back!"

Sam hadn't yelled like this in a long time, but if he didn't put a stop to this soon then they weren't going to live through the next for jobs. "NO SAM, I DON"T, OKAY?"

It was like the air was sucked from the room. He didn't even feel it when his back met the motel room wall, the plaster creaking ever so slightly. Sam's breathing hitched and the two brothers stared at each other for what seemed like forever, "D-don't what?"

Dean swallowed, but Sam could see the resignation in his eyes because he'd already said out loud what couldn't be taken back. The tightly curled fingers in Sam's jacket and shirt slowly released and Dean took a step back away from him. "Trust you to have my back…not anymore."

And just like that, like a flip had been switched, Sam had no fight in him anymore. He sagged back against the wallpaper, this time more for support. For a moment he felt Dean's eyes boring into him and he felt unbelievably small under the scrutiny. Dean doesn't trust me…dean doesn't trust me. Over and over again through his mind. And really, why was he so surprised? God I really am an idiot, why would I expect him to after all the crap I've pulled?

Distantly, he heard the squelching sound of Dean's wet boots retreating across the carpet followed by the sound of the bathroom door closing with a soft 'click'. Only when the air conditioner kicked in and Sam realized just how wet and miserable and cold he was did he at last move, feeling an eating, gnawing pit deep inside.