Sam Winchester had never believed in soulmates, nor did his four year older brother Dean. They both claimed that they needed hard proof before putting their faith in something like that, so when they started getting them – it came a bit as a shocker for them.

Sam had told Dean to sleep through the night, but he wasn't lucky enough to get his wish to come true. Dean stayed up all night with him, researching the monster they were hunting.

Eventually they both lost focus and both drifted off to sleep. Unfortunately for Sam, he didn't reach the bed. He slept well through the whole night without any nightmares haunting him. Dean, on the other hand, had trouble being asleep. He woke up several times during the night, only to fall back to sleep again.

When morning came, both of the brothers were stiff and with throbbing heads. They were not yet aware of the small markings on the back of their hands, picturing a flame on Dean and the time and place on Sam.

"You want the shower first?" Dean asked as he sat up, looking at his brother. Dean smirked as Sam gave him a murdering look, but it soon fell off as he saw the markings on his younger brother's hand. "Are you going somewhere, Sammy?" Sam looked at him in confusion and Dean hurried to his side.

"No, this isn't my handwriting. Wait; do you think..." Sam's eyes lit up as he halted himself. Dean felt the now hopeful aura around his brother, but nevertheless, he had to make sure Sam understood why that was impossible. He recomposed himself as he begun.

"Sammy, you know that isn't the case. You do remember that it was you that pushed the point on having hard proof, right?" Dean sighed as Sam turned around, stomping his way to the tiny bathroom the motel room had. Dean was worried that he had unintentionally been a little too harsh on him, but he managed to shrug it off and continued with their research.

Soon enough his worry sparkled again. Sam was usually quick in the shower, but today he was almost as slow as Dean usually was. Dean rose to his feet and tiptoed over to the thin bathroom door, to see if he could overhear what his brother did in there.

He heard nothing. Not even the water tap dripping as it usually would. His worry went from a sparkle to a flame in a matter of milliseconds. A cold shiver found its way down his spine as he remembered the last time something like this had happened. It had been six years ago.

It had been a warm and sunny day with a lot of practicing with firearms at Bobby's. Their dad had insisted on practicing shooting, standing in an open field with no cover from the sun. Sam's hair moved in the wind, slightly blocking his view, he had had long hair back then as well, even though both Dean and their dad had wanted him to cut it.

It all went in some kind of slow motion. A moose had come storming out from the woods, far from where they were, and Sam was aiming at a target with his back against the moose. He hadn't heard the enormous beast, but was soon to be faced with the consequences of that. The moose crashed his enormous, furry head into Sam. Sam didn't have time to point his gun somewhere else, so when the shot was fired, scared the moose away – but he also got an angry father at his neck.

"You idiot!" He shouted, throwing his fists in the air, anger boiling inside of him. "You could have shot your brother!" Dean, who hadn't cared about where the bullet had fired, didn't take much notice to that fact. Dean saw his eleven year old brother bow down his head and accept his punishment. "You are one stupid ass kid; I don't see why anyone would ever bother with you!"

"Dad, it wasn't..." Dean begun his sentence, but he was interrupted by his father growling at him. "Silence." Neither of the boys recognized their father in that moment. They were used to his hot temper, but never had he growled at Dean. He surly was silenced, but his father never realized that it was in that moment, when he held Sam by the collar and growled at both of them, that he lost their full trust.

Sam swallowed nervously as the grip on his shirt was tightening. Their father, turning his full attention to his youngest again, raised his hand and smacked him across the face. He let go of his son's shirt and slowly stepped backwards. It had never been his intention to hit Sam; Mary would have killed him if she was alive. Dean rushed over to his brother, trying to help him. John stepped forward again; all of the anger had been washed away. Dean quickly placed himself between his father and his brother, trying to protect him from further outlets of anger.

"I'm sorry..." John whispered. Neither of his sons heard him. Sam turned around, red in his face and ran inside. Dean looked at his father, before leaving him out on the field, running after his brother.

That night was the first night Sam had ever hurt himself, because his father's words cut deeper than he was ever willing to admit. Anger, sadness and hopelessness were amongst the overwhelming feelings he felt, he was angry at himself and at his dad. It wasn't his fault you fired the gun, moron, you did. You almost killed your precious brother. The thoughts followed him up the stairs and trough the hallway leading to the bathroom and the two spare bedrooms. He locked himself into the bathroom on the second floor, knowing Dean soon would come after him; so he had to do this quickly before anyone came to stop him. He made the cut and watched as the broken skin slowly parted to let the red fluid come out through the neat cut on his lower forearm. After a while he felt peaceful, calm. Then he heard the soft knocks on the door, he tried to get up and unlock it, but he got dizzy as soon as he stood up. He did manage to utter Dean's name before he sank towards the chilly, bright blue floor.

Dean had heard his brother and had kicked the door open. The boy he saw on the floor was pale, cold and messy. Around him were small puddles of blood, a sharp contrast to the bright white light in the room. Dean knew it was his father's actions that had finally pushed his baby brother over the edge. He had known that Sam wasn't well, but he thought it was nothing.

Now it was happening again, six years later, but without Dean really knowing what the cause of this breakdown had been. They had talked about the subject of soulmates many times before, so Dean thought that had nothing to do with it. Now he just needed to help the mess on the floor and the mess on the floor being Sam Winchester, he knew it would take a while.