Digging through my old dusty never finished fics, I found this little Gem that was an extension of this story and I merged it in with an edit to the previous chapter. I hope you like a bit more of hurt Sam scared of big brother Dean.

Thanks for reminding me scarlett!

Enjoy!

As always I own nothing but a filthy mind.

It was several months later when the issue reared its ugly head again and it sucked because they'd made decent progress being brothers again, comfortable in their shared- too small space. Sam's nightmares were getting less and less and the defeated look in his eyes was finally changing to something akin to hope again.

That was until their last case. It was a run of the mill haunting, deep in the farm lands of Texas. Dean was on salt 'n burn duty and Sam was trying to find a two inch monocle in a literal dusty debris filled haystack of a house. And it wasn't going that well.

They were on a tight time schedule to find the ghosts final possession that was tying it to this house, before Dean got to the coffin and all hell broke loose, like it always did.

As Sam upended drawers and cabinets and coughed in the swirls of ancient dust he'd disturbed, the last thing he thought he'd see when he stood and turned round was his brother.

"Ugh!" Sam jumped. Dean's face glowing white in the beam of his torch. "I thought you were digging." Sam hissed.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, green dull eyes boring into Sam's.

"I haven't found it yet. If that's why you're here." Sam wiped his dusty hands on his thighs and started off to the doorway leading into the main hall. "I still need to check the attic and the basement..." He trailed off.

Dean still didn't speak.

Sam scanned the room with his flashlight for any other corner or cupboard he'd missed one last time. Satisfied he moved into the hallway and to the basement door.

"You know, it would be quicker if you helped me look." Sam said as he started down the basement steps. He could hear Dean's light footsteps behind him following him down under the house.

Light cut through the darkness as Sam went deeper, and down here it was the same as upstairs. Dozens of half rotten boxes overflowing with dust covered debris filled the basement floor.

Sam sighed. "This might take awhile." He scanned the piles and piles before him all the way to the back walls, some over flowing with paper, some fabric and what used to be curtains, heaps and shelves of old pans and jars.

Sam heard Dean stop mid stairs and pointed his light to the left. "I'll take this side." As Sam began rummaging through the box nearest to him, he'd noticed Dean still hadn't moved.

"You can start searching over there if you want to be helpful." Sam muttered mildly annoyed as he finished the first box.

Something akin to unease began to crawl down Sam's back as he pushed at the second box and tipped it toward him. Something didn't feel right.

Sam hurried his search as he dove through the second box, tossing it when he found nothing useful.

"If the historical records are right, it should be in a small oak box with a gold-"

"Engraving." Dean's oddly cool voice echoed behind him.

Hairs stood on end at the nape of Sam's neck and he stalled his movements.

Stopping his search, Sam tilted to glance at Dean, his torchlight illuminating the stairs Dean was still stood on.

Glinting in Dean's hands was a fine gold chain swinging in the light, a two inch circle of glass flashed in Dean's fingers.

"Looking for this?" Dean smiled, but it never reached his eyes.

A sudden bolt of fear Sam hadn't felt in a long time closed his throat. The way Dean was looking at him brought back all kinds of emotions he thought he was past.

"Dean..." Sam started.

Dean frowned. "No." He shook his head. "It's not Dean anymore." He smiled smugly, tucking the monocle in his jacket breast pocket and patted it.

Boxes forgotten Sam drew his shotgun and aimed it at his brother.

"Get out of him." Sam tried to make his voice sound strong but even he heard the waiver and not-Dean laughed low in his throat.

"We both know you're not in any position to tell me what to do." Dean sauntered down the last few steps, getting closer to Sam.

"I do suppose I owe you and your brother a thank you for finding this." Dean's palm brushed his jacket pocket. "But then again..."

Dean stood before Sam now. "You were going to burn it with me." Cold anger flooded Dean's eyes as he stared into Sam's.

Static sizzled in the air around them as the shotgun was ripped from Sam's hands and flew into the darkness, clattering out of sight.

The torch flickered on the ground where it had fallen, the glow catching in Dean's eyes almost as if it were a camera flare.

Sam swallowed back the lump in his throat. His heart thundered in his chest.

Dean leaned a little closer and Sam backed up into the basement wall, arms knocking boxes over as he tried to escape Dean's cruel gaze.

Dean's breath ghosted Sam's neck as he spoke and Goosebumps prickled his skin. "This is somewhere we've been before, hmm." Dean smiled.

Sam squared his jaw. He was not going to let this son of a bitch use Dean against him. It's not him.

"You can pretend all you want...Sammy..." It grinned, enjoying the spark of fear that crept into Sam's face when he used his nickname. "I know fear when I see it."

"I'm not afraid of you." Sam growled.

Dean's lips parted and he grinned, his teeth teasing his bottom lip. "You will be." Dean promised darkly.

Sam suddenly lashed out, both hands pushing at Dean's chest as he lunged sideward.

Not-Dean was ready. Strong fists tightened in Sam's jacket before he was even clear and slammed him back against the cold concrete.

The breath rushed out of Sam's lungs as he was held in place. Dean's long hard body pressed him tight against the wall and his hands crept up to wrap around Sam's neck.

"Ngh!" Sam struggled.

"Now this is familiar." Dean breathed close to Sam's ear. The cruel intimacy brought back flashes of the shifter case and Sam had to stop himself from panicking and getting lost in the memories. The way Dean's eyes narrowed at him now were far too similar.

Lungs burning for air Sam wrestled his hands free to try to push Dean off but the spirit in him was abnormally strong and held him still as if he weighed nothing.

"I must admit..." Dean licked his lips, so close to Sam's ears he could hear Dean's unnatural grin even over his pounding heart. "I have missed having a body of my own."

Sam struggled against the cold hands holding him, Dean's fingers tightened painfully over his throat.

"..uh..." Sam choked.

"And now I have this...Dean..." Dean pressed a little harder. "I want to have some fun with him."

Black spots were starting to take over Sam's watery vision and he was losing his strength fast. If he didn't find a way out of this and soon he wasn't going to stay conscious for much longer.

Just as he felt his eyes start to close Sam was suddenly free from the choking hands and he gulped in precious heaving breaths.

He didn't feel himself start to sag down the wall until strong hands held up him with a fist full of his jacket, they weren't gentle. Not Dean.

"Now now...don't fight it Sam." Dean teased. "I haven't even started the fun."

Despite the darkness, Sam saw from the corner of his eye something glinting before him and Dean's hand suddenly brought up his bowie knife and pressed it lightly over Sam's heaving chest. The razor sharp tip gently grazed below Sam's chin. Sam pulled at the hand holding the knife but Dean didn't budge.

"I could start with the knives this time..." Dean smirked as Sam paled. He didn't get time to use the knives.

Cold dread tightened painfully around Sam's heart. His eyes were wide and he tried desperately to slow his too fast beating pulse. Panicking here would get him nowhere and he needed to stay alert if he had any hope to get him and Dean out of this one. His hand tightened around Dean's holding the knife.

His brother standing so close to him, Sam could smell the lighter fluid and smoke clinging to Dean's skin, feel bits of gritty earth under his palm over Dean's chest. At least he knew Dean had already taken care of the body, which meant all he had to do was destroy the monocle currently tucked away in Dean's breast pocket and this ghost would be toast. Dean had to have found it when he dug him up or just after he burned the bones, probably waiting for Sam to come meet him.

If usual possession was anything to go by, Dean had to have touched the monocle for the spirit to gain control and if Sam could burn it, he could stop all this.

"Dean..." Sam gasped, tugging at Dean's wrist. "Fight him." Sam said stronger this time. "Dean-"

"Ah ah ah." Dean tsked. "Dean's a little busy right now. And there's much nicer sounds that can come out of your mouth. I'm sure."

Dean leant into Sam to prove his point as Sam grunted, both hands coming up push Dean away.

Sam shuddered at the words spoken in his brothers voice. Fear started again to weave it's cold way through him.

"Dean won't let you hurt me." Sam challenged, despite the icy touches of doubt seeping through his very core.

Not Dean laughed, and it sounded so callous to Sam's own ears he flinched.

"But I am Dean. And I really do want to hurt you..."

The blade scratched across Sam's jacket as Dean moved the edge to nip Sam's skin just a touch.

Sam stilled. He felt a warm trickle of blood run down his neck from the nick.

Dean twisted the long blade in his hand as he moved it up to caress Sam's jaw and ghost over Sam's cheek. Sam remained still but glared at Dean with defiance.

The blade again nicked his skin, just over his cheek bone and Sam winced.

Dean smiled at the droplets of blood stark against Sam's pale skin. He seemed proud of his handy work.

"This colour suits you." Dean mocked, fingering the blood running down Sam's neck. Dean stood back a step as he rubbed Sam's blood between his thumb and fore finger and stared at it as if it were rare rubies.

Suddenly backhanding Sam with his free hand Dean watched as Sam jerked back and staggered to hold himself up. One arm leaning on the only support he had, the wall, the other cradling his now even bloodier cheek with the back of his hand. Dean's fist had opened the small nick to a gash across Sam's cheekbone and he felt the sting throb deep under the wound where he was sure the bone had bruised. The sting made his eyes water.

"I was wrong." Dean glared, already fascinated at the darkening purple bruise he'd left high on Sam's cheek. "That suits you much better."

Sam spat out a mouthful of blood and straightened his back. He squared his jaw and glared into Dean's cold eyes.

Dean's eyebrows rose. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were standing up to me."

Fight me Sam. This is the only way.

"Maybe I am." Sam ground out. He couldn't let this thing beat him, because this thing had Dean. And he wouldn't be the reason Dean got hurt because he was his brother and despite how hard it was facing his fear, he'd do anything for his brother.

Sam tightened his hands into fists.

"Whoah...there he is." Dean mocked. "Ready for a fight are you?"

Sam swallowed and raised his fists.

Dean tossed the knife with a clatter to the floor and sighed audibly, his own hands curling into fists flimsily like it was all a bore.

"What are you waiting for?" Dean chuckled.

Grimacing, Sam bounced on his feet and swung with his left. He didn't even get the chance to even ghost over Dean's skin before he was thrown sideways, over the pile of boxes to crash into the other wall.

Dean's laughter echoed through the basement as Sam struggled to stand. His side screaming in protest as he used the wall to help himself stand upright. Glancing quickly to where Dean was stood Sam found the spot empty and fear again threatened to tighten around him.

Sam backed to the wall and slowly glanced around the dark room. Other than still shadows there was nothing. Sam grit his teeth. He wasn't in the mood for playing this game. Frantically he looked down for anything he could use, maybe his shotgun that was tossed earlier was here- when laughter echoed around him and his eyes shot up again to see nothing but shadows.

It was playing with him.

Sam growled.

"You call this a fight?" Sam shouted. Anger giving him strength.

There was no answer.

Sam laughed.

"Need to hide in the shadows to fight!?"

It was odd to his own ears to hear his laughter but he hoped he knew what he was doing here. If the real Dean was with him he would definitely have punched him for poking the angry spirit but he had to if he hoped his plan would work. And it needed to. Sam tightened hold of the monocle in his fist.

Suddenly Dean materialized in front of him, fist already swinging.

Sam had a few seconds to dodge, wide eyed before he felt the brunt of the force knock him backwards into the wall and the breath from his lungs.

"Ugh!"

The next thing he knew Sam was airborne again, crashing through boxes and dust and rolling to a stop into another wall.

Coughing Sam dragged himself up, dust shaking from his overhanging hair as he leant back against the wall, he could taste blood on his tongue.

Dean in sight and skulking toward him, Sam felt around and found a loose shell from the shotgun, spied the shotgun between him and Dean and kept his brothers eyes. He was smiling but it was all wrong.

Not Dean. Sam swallowed, pocketing the rock salt for later.

Dean stepped closer with that cruel smile, hard anger blazing in his eyes.

Sam launched himself for the shotgun, fingers grappling metal even as his side screamed at him when he felt it being ripped away and clatter over by the stairs.

Hands empty, Sam scrambled backwards as Dean advanced, reaching the wall he stood on shaky legs.

Dean stopped before him, almost as if he was deciding how he wanted to hurt him next.

Sam let the wall take most of his weight as he tipped his head back, hair falling into his eyes, he smiled at Dean with bloody lips. Eyes locked he fumbled in his pocket to empty the shell and pinched a handful of the free salt.

"Not afraid of you." Sam wheezed. Fingers crushing the little jagged crystals against his palm.

"Ohh don't worry. We can fix that." Dean promised reaching his hands out to again close around Sam's neck.

Jerking his arm out Sam pressed his fistful of rock salt flat against Dean's skin and he jerked back, face and neck steaming.

"Oh Sammy." Dean hissed, his face still sizzling. "You'll need to do more than that."

Dean raised his arm and Sam flew side wards into more boxes, this time crashing into piles of pots and pans.

Once the room stopped spinning Sam felt around with his fingers. He was half lying on flattened boxes amidst a handful of steel lids and spoons. Something jabbed him painfully in the ribs as he shifted and he bit back a groan. Feeling with his free hand under his jacket Sam felt the tip of a cold solid handle that when he pulled with effort he frowned down at what he held.

He'd landed on an iron skillet. That explained the breathless feeling he had in his chest.

Sam gasped. An iron skillet!

Shoving it back, this time under his jacket Sam dragged himself to his feet, his left arm cradling his ribs and covering the bulge.

Dean stepped into view a few steps away.

Sam still smiled.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he glared.

Despite having to hold onto the box in front of him to stand Sam straightened himself awkwardly, still protecting his left.

Sam held up his right hand and let the chain topple from his fist, glass monocle glinted as it bounced and swung on the taught chain.

Dean's eyes widened before he grinned evilly at Sam.

"Lost something?" Sam croaked.

"You think that can stop me?" Dean stomped closer. Glass breaking under his feet as he stood over spilled out boxes and kicked at pans.

Dean covered Sam's fist with his own and squeezed. Sam arched his back gasping as Dean twisted his arm and finally the monocle dropped free to their feet.

Dean slammed Sam's arm against the wall as he cried out and let Sam fold into himself as he reached down the pick up the monocle.

Sam didn't have the time to catch a breath, it was now or never. "No... I can." Sam grunted.

Shooting out with his right Sam ripped at Dean's collar while he pulled out the skillet with his left.

Not-Dean still had that smug look on his face when the iron pressed against his naked flesh and he shrieked back, the ghost blasted out of him in a freezing mist.

Dean fell back boneless as Sam collapsed back against the wall heaving.

Groaning and catching his breath Sam's eyes landed on the monocle at his feet. Using some nearby cloth he wrapped it carefully not letting it touch his skin, then pocketed it with the rest of the salt, loose in his pocket.

Wincing as he tried to stand Sam carefully walked over to Dean and knelt down painfully next to him. Sam struggled to hold himself up as he rummaged in Dean's pocket but finally found what he needed.

Looking at Dean's face one last time Sam smiled to himself with a wince. "Wasn't you." Sam whispered, patting Dean's shoulder. He could hear Dean's easy breathing and feel his chest rise and fall.

It took him time to get to his feet again and he quickly emptied the wrapped monocle and salt into one of the larger pans and liberally poured in Dean's lighter fluid.

Sam carefully struck his match and dropped it into the pan with a whoosh.

Wincing at the brightness Sam let himself sag to the ground and leant against the wall with a groan, feet stretching towards a still out Dean.

"Anytime now bro..." Sam muttered. "Be good."

Wrapping his arm around his left side Sam hissed as he faced Dean, his back to the wall. He was beyond exhausted and he couldn't wait to lie down on an actual bed.

Sam closed his eyes and thought of sleep.

The first thing Dean was aware of was the headache blossoming to life behind his eyes and he winced. Slowly cracking his eyes open Dean caught a dull orange glow past his feet and felt the cold ground beneath him had seeped into his clothes and he shivered.

Frowning Dean sat up stiffly and rubbed his head.

Everything came back to him in a flash and he gasped, suddenly alert he frantically searched for Sam.

Knocking into Sam's foot, Dean's eyes shot to his brothers crumpled form near him and scrambled over and reached out with gentle hands.

"Sammy." Dean croaked, looking Sam over.

Sam was hunched against the wall, one arm wrapped around his side with his head leaning back. Face slack but Dean could hear his heavy breathing.

"Sammy?" Dean cupped Sam's chin and tilted his head up. Vivid bruises bloomed over his cheek, around his neck.

Dean's hands shook as he remembered hitting Sam and his knuckles throbbed.

Dean gently probed for a pulse against the bruising as he shuffled closer and gently shook Sam.

"Sammy? Hey!?" Dean roused, a little louder.

Sam gasped suddenly, his eyes snapping open he groaned loudly and rolled away from Dean.

"Ngh!"

"Sammy?"

Sam swallowed and focused his gaze on his brother. Eyes still wary Sam winced as he reached for Dean's hand.

"Not you." Sam breathed, holding back a cry as he moved closer to Dean.

Dean smiled down at Sam as he held him close, content in feeling Sam's warm body against him and his pulse thumping beneath his skin.

Dean looked around at the damage and his throat tightened. He'd done all that. Throwing Sam around and beating the shit out of him. Again.

He was so relieved right now but he couldn't stop the anger and pride that warred within in for what Sam had done. They'd talk about this later.

Dean dusted himself off and stood, he reached his hand down to Sam.

"Can you walk?"

Sam pulled a face. "Uh..."

Dean wrapped his arm around Sam and used the wall to help as he got them both to their feet when Sam leaned heavily into him, a cry caught in the back of his throat.

"Easy..." Dean muttered as he took Sam's weight and moved forward.

The fire was already embers and ash as the brothers turned their backs to it and found their way, slowly to the stairs.

Looking up at them like a mountain Sam winced.

It was slow going but they made it, Sam much paler than before but he insisted he was fine whenever Dean asked. We'll talk about that later too, you are clearly not fine.

After loading Sam into the car Dean raced to the drivers side and gunned the engine.

"Hospital?" Dean asked unsure as the shot a glance to his brother.

Sam made another face, opened his mouth and then finally shook his head. "Motel." Sam muttered.

He didn't have the energy to face a hospital right now, but he wasn't entirely sure he didn't need one.

Sam looked across at Dean as the car rocked and they raced away from the farm house.

Dean's eyes flicked to Sam and the road every few moments, eyes hard, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he gunned the engine.

There was nothing but concern in those eyes and Sam relaxed a little. No. He didn't need a hospital.

Breaking sharply to a stop, the car lurched and Sam gasped as he moved and awakened new bruises.

"Sammy?"

"M'okay." Sam groaned, blinking at the parking lot lights. Huh.

Sam's door opened and Dean reached in to help as Sam stiffly straightened from the car.

"Still good?" Dean said into Sam's head as it lolled on his shoulder. Dean could feel Sam sagging against him.

"Mmhm...slow..." Sam bit back a curse as the moved slowly to their room.

The beds were like a beacon of light to Sam as the door opened and Dean had to nearly drag him to it. He let Sam drop carefully and pulled his legs up onto the bed when Sam was horizontal.

"Ugh..." Sam swallowed eyes closing.

Dean let himself fall back into the chair beside Sam's bed and let out a deep breath.

"Sammy?" Dean said quietly.

Sam groaned on the bed, more out of annoyance than pain but Dean guessed it was a little of both. "I know..." Sam finally voiced back.

Wincing as he sat up, Sam started shrugging out of his jacket, careful of his left side as Dean pulled out the first aid kit.

"Anything broken?" Dean asked.

Sam frowned, moving a little to test. "No..."

"Are you asking me or telling me...?" Dean clarified.

"Uh...I don't think..." Sam confirmed. Unsure of his own answer.

Dean's eyes widened as he stared at his brother.

It was easier to cut Sam's t shirt than try to wrestle it off him and Sam didn't mind. The motel air was cold against his skin though.

Dean hissed at what he saw and Sam had to snap his eyes open when he felt Dean's hands pressing into his side.

"Ngh-ah..." Sam stammered. Glancing down himself he saw why the worried look had plastered across Dean's face.

Angry scratches criss crossed Sam's chest and side and where Dean's hands were, the white cloth was dotted with red.

Sam bit back a cry as Dean adjusted and pressed down again.

"Not too deep." Dean muttered after a few moments, stilling Sam.

Dean cleaned it next as Sam bit his lip and determined he didn't need stitches. Sam would have whooped but he didn't have the energy to keep his eyes open right now.

He felt Dean gently clean the cut on his neck and face and bundle up an icepack over his still throbbing cheek.

"Sammy..."

Sam's eyes cracked open.

"Hold this, your neck could do with it too..."

Sam hissed as he shifted but held it in place for another minute before moving it to sooth his sore neck.

Sam flicked his gaze to his brother as they sat in silence and tried to read Dean's eyes.

"You okay?" Sam winced.

Dean scoffed. "I'm fine." He shook his head. "Just a headache."

Sam gave a small nod.

"So..." Dean started. "Pissing off an evil spirit was part of your plan to get beat to hell or...were you just trying something new?"

Sam's lips curved up in a small smile. "I had a plan..." Sam said softly.

Dean could read the bullshit plain across his brothers face. "Yeah. Sure you did." He let the concern leak into his voice. "And that was...?"

Sam gave a tiny shrug. "Four walls...one shotgun. Something down there was bound to be iron or salt..."

Even with half lidded eyes Sam saw and felt Dean tense beside him.

"Do you realize how wreck less you acted, not to mention..."

Dean stopped as a laugh bubbled out of Sam and then a laugh.

"What!?" Dean smiled too.

"Got it from you." Sam grinned.

Dean opened his mouth to complain then stopped himself.

"Despite...your terrible plan tonight... You did good kid."

The brothers smiled at one another for a long moment.

"You were right." Sam whispered. "Had to fight you."

Dean laughed.

Sam closed his eyes and let the bed take his full weight. He'd be sore as hell in the morning but at least he could deal with that. Bruises healed, and so would he, with Dean by his side.

Sam heard Dean walk across to his own bed and flop down. He could feel Dean smiling even with his eyes closed and it settled him.

"I can sleep now?" Sam slurred.

Dean grinned to himself as he closed his eyes. "You can sleep now Sammy."

Falling into the darkness wasn't so terrifying when he knew he wouldn't be seeing Not-Dean waiting to choke him to death. Sam had already faced that fear tonight and won. And if he had to he'd do it again. Sleep closed around him and this time, it was dream-less and deep.

The end.

Thanks for reading :)