Summary: Dean is always the one looking out for his little brother, Sam. When that changes after a hunt, Sam has to deal with helping Dean and getting him back. Evil!Dean
Disclaimer: Does anyone actually read these disclaimers? Oh well, own nothing.
Title is from the song Goody Two Shoes from Adam and the Ants 'cause I couldn't think of a different title. I'm open to suggestions though.
The wire frame of the mattress-less bed cut into Sam's back and the tape cut off the circulation in his hands and feet. But he didn't notice this pain, he was too focused on a greater pain to pay attention to such small detail.
Standing over him, Dean's face was painted with blood – Sam's blood. He's eyes were the green that was so familiar to Sam. There was nothing wrong with them. They weren't black, they didn't flash in security cameras. They were the eyes of Sam's big brother. And now Sam's big brother was brandishing a new toy off his table.
"I know what sound you make when you get a little personal with Ruby's knife but what about a scalpel. It's sharper, it'll cut deeper.
"De- Dean…" Sam panted. "Dean, please, it's me."
The scalpel slipped from Dean's hand and a vacant look over took his face. "S-Sam…"
"Yes! Dean, it's me!" Sam felt a pang of hope. "Dean, you have to fight it! You're not you! You have to fight it."
"Yes you can Dean. You have to!"
"I c-can't… believe you fell for that!" Dean laughed, picking up a different utensil from his table. "Ah, kid you are too gullible."
Sam coughed blood up from his lungs as his older brother intruded another blade into his body.
One week earlier…
Dean awoke to the sounds of Bobby downstairs in the living room cursing. He instinctively froze and discretely reached under his pillow for his knife.
"Dean, relax, man," came Sam's voice from the opposite bed. "It's just Bobby."
Dean groaned and opened his eyes for the first time in the morning. The sun was streaming through the dirt-covered windows illuminating Bobby's dusty spare room. The way it streamed in told Dean that it wasn't even eight in the morning yet.
"What the hell is he doing down there?" croaked Dean, getting out of bed.
Sam shrugged. "Trying to wake us up, I dunno."
Dean groaned again but followed Sam down to the living room. Bobby was busy piling books from the ground onto his desk. It looked as if the books had fallen off the old hunter's desk. In fact, it was obvious that was what happened.
"Morning sunshine," Dean said, earning a glare from the senior hunter. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
"Bed?" questioned Bobby. "What bed? While you two slept happily, I've been looking through all these books."
"Definitely the wrong side of the bed," Dean mumbled to Sam.
Sam walked away from his brother, and into the kitchen for coffee. Unsurprisingly to Sam, the coffee pot was empty after Bobby's evidently fruitless night of research. He set up the coffee maker to do its job. Dean walked into the kitchen and stood next to Sam, invading Sam's personal space, watching as he made coffee.
"No coffee?" Dean asked.
Sam looked sideways at his older brothers pouting face. "In a minute, Dean. Do you have to stand so close?"
"What's wrong with where I'm standing?"
Sam gave Dean a look. "It's annoying. Go stand over there, stop watching me."
"I don't want to stand over there. I'm happy here – no wait, I'm happy here." Dean took a step closer to Sam, smiling. His brother didn't seem as amused as him. "What?"
"Dean, seriously, go stand over there. Just go away."
"Aw, what's wrong Sammy? I can't stand next to my baby brother anymore?"
"You know what? Whatever, Dean," Sam sighed, "just whatever."
"Aw, does Sammy need a hug?"
"What? No! Dean, go away." Sam turned back to the coffee maker, intent on ignoring his obnoxiously brother. "Dean!"
Dean wrapped his arms clumsily over his little brother. "Come here!" Sam protested, Dean just held on harder. "Shush, it's okay Sam. Just feel the hug."
"Dean, ge' off me!" Sam yelled, trying to push his brother off him to no avail.
"Would you two idjits cut it off?" Bobby grumbled from the doorway.
Dean let Sam go with a smirk. Sam just glared in return and straightened his clothing with a huff. Bobby rolled his eyes and walked over to the fresh pot of coffee, pouring himself a new cup. He drank a few mouthfuls before topping up his mug again and walking back into the living room with a mumbled 'idjits' behind him.
Dean smirked and grabbed a coffee mug. He filled up his mug with the coffee, noting that after he poured himself a cup there was only enough coffee for one more cup. Sam grabbed a mug from the kitchen bench and reached for the coffee pot in Dean's hands.
"Hey, wait your turn," smirked Dean, a plan fully formed in his mind.
"Wha – it is my turn." Sam recognised the glint in his brother eye. Sam tensed, moving forward for the coffee pot. "Dean, the pot."
Dean stepped backwards. "Slow down there big boy. I thought you didn't want me to be close to you and now here you are, moving into my personal bubble."
"Dean. Give me the pot."
Dean looked at Sam. The pot. His coffee mug. He brought the coffee mug to his lips and – eyes set, starring at Sam – sculled the rest of his own coffee. It was hot, it was burning as it drained down his throat. Dean felt his face redden but played casual as best he could while pouring more coffee into his mug. Leaving the pot empty. He sipped his recently refreshed, contently.
Sam grumbled and snatched away the coffee pot. "You are such a jerk, Dean."
Sam looked towards his brother, expecting to see him burst out laughing. Yet, his face was still.
"Dean, you okay?"
Dean burst out in a coughing fit. He doubled over. Sam quickly grabbed Dean's arm to help support him, rubbing Dean's back with his other hand.
"What's wrong?" Sam sounded panicked.
Bobby entered the kitchen, drawn to the sounds of Dean chocking. He rushed to the eldest Winchesters aid as well.
"Dean? Dean!" Sam yelled before suddenly dropping hold of his brother. Bobby looked up at him with a questioningly look. Sam just sighed. "You burnt your throat didn't you?"
Sam sighed again and Bobby let go of Dean who grabbed at the kitchen bench for support in his coughing fit.
"Wha –" began Bobby.
"Was it worth it, Dean?" Sam grumbled, starting to make coffee yet again.
"You know it, bitch." Dean laughed, trying to regain his composure.
"If you two are done, I could use some help."
Sam and Dean exchanged looks. Dean's mischievous, Sam's annoyed.
Please Review. Praise or Flame, a review is a review and I'm not picky. Besides, if you're reading this, you might as well give me your opinion, yes?