Sam slept far sounder than he should have. He did wake up a couple of times in the night, a bit disoriented and either wondering what the weight on him was or thinking for a sec or two that he was home with Jess. And then the events of the last twenty four hours would come crashing down, and he'd find himself holding tight to Dean.

He'd almost lost him. Lost Dean forever. And they weren't home free yet.

No, he refused to buy into any negative thoughts. His brother was safe. He'd be nursed to good health. They'd find some way to combat this werewolf thing, and then everything would be back to normal.

Back to normal. What did that mean, anyway? Him back at school… them out there putting their lives at risk? Could he once again put aside thoughts and worries about them?

Letting out a heavy sigh, Sam closed his eyes. He was keenly aware of how unusual it might look, the way they were sleeping, and he was damned determined to wake early before his father saw them. At the same time, he couldn't deny that he needed the comfort Dean was giving him, and he had to believe Dean needed it to… or he'd have moved away the instant Sam fell asleep. A small smile played across his lips as he thought back to the kiss Dean had ghosted across his collar bone before going to sleep. He had to have still been loopy on the drugs… had to.


*

The instant he heard Dean call his name in an anguished tone, Sam's eyes fluttered open. "What? What do you need?"

There was no answer. It only scared him for a moment, until he realized Dean was still asleep. His heart was beating hard enough for Sam to feel it against his chest, and his breaths were a bit shallow and fast… but that was all good, signs that he was alive.

Damn, just when had Dean got practically on top of him? What a bed hog. Insults started flying around in Sam's mind until he shifted his leg and felt something hard press into his thigh. Great… Dean had a stiffy. And he was practically naked… okay they both were. A little panic flooded his system… nothing he couldn't handle.

Heat warmed his cheeks, and he gave an uncomfortably dry cough. Yeah… looked like he was getting morning wood too… which was perfectly normal because it was morning. What wasn't so normal was the way he was all tangled up with Dean. Very not normal, especially in the light of day.

A quick glance at his dad's bed showed him that his father was still asleep. God… he needed to get free, but looking down at Dean's now perfectly relaxed features, he found himself a bit reluctant. Okay, that was just dumb.

Slowly, he shifted both their bodies, and rolled Dean on his back. Just like that, he sensed Dean waking when he was still leaning over him. "Dude… you kissed me," he whispered.

He was smirking slightly, and he knew Dean was confused and would probably swear up and down that he was a liar, or it was wishful thinking or something. But Sam was sure, and had to tease. Old habits died hard. "Yeah… yeah you did. You told me you weren't gonna, and then… bam… right here…" Sam slid his index finger across his collar bone.

Dean began mumbling sleepy protests the moment his warm soft pillow began to move beneath him. He wasn’t ready to wake up, damn it. He was comfortable, more than comfortable, and he was having the best dream. So he clung to his pillow tightly. Burrowing closer to the warmth it offered. Rubbing the pleasant ache between his legs against a hard muscled thigh.

Oh that felt good… Came the sleepy thought, and he almost moaned as he shifted, still more asleep than awake, against the body practically laying underneath them. However the moan instantly changed to a soft squawk of protest when he was unceremoniously rolled over onto his back. Forcing him more awake than he really wanted to be right now, damn it.

Dean opened his eyes and blinked blearily up at his brother. Licking dry lips as his brain tried to reshuffle memories of dreams, reality, and memories into some semblance of order.

Sam was hovering over him. Looking down at him. Close enough that he could still feel his brother’s heat washing over him, the boy was a fucking furnace, and he just wanted to wrap his arms around the younger man and drag him back down where he belonged so Dean could go back to sleep. But his brother’s words made his brow furrow in confusion as they filtered past the veil of sleepiness muddling his thoughts. Recalling images from his dream. The feel of his brother’s body beneath his hands. The younger man’s taste against his tongue. His lips…

Sam’s lips…

Dean’s eyes opened wide. Suddenly very much awake like he’d just been doused with ice water. But rather than cold, heat flooded through his cheeks, spreading down his whole body, so hot it was a wonder he didn’t spontaneously combust.

“I did not!” He immediately protested, his voice embarrassingly an octave or two higher than it normally was and cracking a little like he was still going through puberty.

Sam openly laughed at him, shaking his head. "Yeah you did, why would I make this shit up?" He hadn't seen his brother blush in… hell, he didn't think he'd EVER seen Dean blush before. "You can deny it if you want but this…" he dragged his knuckles across Dean's cheek, "this isn't fever."

Still chuckling, he threw one long leg over Dean and climbed out of his side of the bed, without touching him. Short cuts ruled, and he needed to go. Glancing over his shoulder at his father, he noticed signs that he was waking. If he was lucky, he'd be caught up with Dean's recovery and they wouldn't have to address the noise they'd made. Well… that Dean had made.

Stretching and rotating the shoulder Dean had practically paralyzed, he went into the bathroom and closed the door. If he knew how to whistle, he'd be doing it now. Wasn't every day he was able to silence one Dean Winchester. And yeah, the dude was still weak and injured, but Sam would get his victories where he could.

*

Ten minutes later, Sam emerged to find his dad had pulled up a chair and was talking to Dean. "Mornin'" he said, acknowledging his father's presence. He could tell his dad was … well if not happy, then relieved. The man was too much of a realist.

"He looks good, doesn't he? Especially the rosy cheeks, but no fever." Sam didn't even look at his brother as he made one last dig and reached for his jeans.

When Sam laughed at him, looking about as smug as possible, Dean had serious thoughts about punching the younger man. Or at least make some kind of come back or smart ass remark… something… anything. Of course that was before his brother brushed his knuckles across his cheek and the elder man forgot how to speak.

Dean swallowed hard. No… no, definitely not a fever. What the fuck!

But he pretty much forgot how to breathe as well as his brother climbed over him. His eyes trailing after the younger man as Sam walked to the bathroom. His brother stretching along the way, and Dean couldn’t help but watch with rapt attention the play of muscles along Sam’s shoulders and back. His tongue darting out to lick his dry lips…

Dean tore his eyes away staring at the ceiling, suddenly painfully aware of his arousal, and what the fuck! He was not hard because he had been dreaming about his baby brother! And he had not just been ogling the younger man’s well toned body!

At the sound of the mattress in the other bed shifting, Dean turned his head to look at his father who was now sitting up in bed wide awake. But rather than the irritated expression Dean had almost expected for having woke the elder man up so early, when John’s eyes met his he was surprised by the depths of emotion he saw there. The deep relief he saw in his father’s eyes left him a little speechless.

His father got up and crossed the small distance between the two beds. Dragging a chair to sit next to him beside the bed.

“Hey Dean, how are you feeling?” His father asked, and for a moment the younger man couldn’t answer. He just didn’t know how to answer. Maybe on some level he had expected… His father had to have known what had been done to him, and maybe Dean had expected some measure of disgust from the elder man. Now that Dean was one of the things they usually hunted, he expected his father to look at him differently.

The elder man’s smile faltered a when Dean didn’t answer, and leaned forward. Looking even more concerned, reaching out to place a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“Dean? Are you in pain?”

The question brought Dean out of his momentary daze and he shook his head.

“No, Dad. Just a little sore. I’m fine…” He said, though they both knew Dean was lying. He was anything but ‘fine’.

When Sam emerged from the bathroom they both turned their heads to look at the younger man, and John nodded. Giving a slight smile to his son’s greeting, though his eyes remained worried even though he had to agree with the younger man’s words. Dean did look much better. Physically at least.

Though the elder man had to raise an eyebrow at the ‘rosy cheeks’ comment, but thought he understood better when Dean responded to his brother’s comment by throwing a pillow at the younger man’s head. John couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“Sam, why don’t you take some cash from my wallet and go get us some coffee. Maybe Dean will feel like having some breakfast, too?” John suggested, before any true bickering could break out between his boys, though to be honest, it wouldn’t have bothered him one bit. It had been so long since they had been together like this. He never imagined how good it would feel to see his boys together again, being brothers again, even though the circumstances were less than ideal.

Reminding himself that his brother wasn’t completely well, Sam only just resisted tossing the damn pillow back. Instead, he dropped it onto the other bed and started getting dressed. Then his dad asked him to get them breakfast, and Sam did a double take.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked slowly, first searching his father’s face, then Dean’s. He remembered only too well how close they were, how many secrets they’d had between them when he was growing up. Sure things had changed when he was older, but he never got over the feeling that they hid things from him. It bugged him to hell back then. Now it scared him. What if it was about the bite… what if they were making plans without him?

He took a deep breath and steeled himself against his dad’s displeasure. “If you’re talking business…” his gaze briefly fell on the region of Dean’s thigh, though covered by a sheet. “I want to be here. Besides, I really should change the bandages and check…”

John sighed softly, stomping down on the slight hurt and frustration he felt at Sam’s question and the fact that his younger son still didn’t quite trust him yet. Thinking he and Dean were talking behind his back.

But, that was his own fault as well. They had hid many things from Sam in the past, for his younger son’s own good, maybe, but maybe it had been a mistake. Especially now, because he knew just how hard he was going to have to work on earning back Sam’s trust.

But John was determined to do it. He and Sam were on the same side on this, after all. They were both determined to help Dean. That was what really mattered.

“You’re not interrupting anything, Sam. Dean and I were just talking.” The elder man replied calmly, glancing at Dean, before looking back to his younger son.

“I’ll take care of his bandages while you’re gone. We can talk about anything else once you get back. All right?” John reassured.

Sam searched his dad’s face for answers. As always, the man behind the eyes was a big mystery to him. How could he read his brother like a book, and just… Okay, he was being paranoid maybe. They were just talking. Just like he and Dean had some time to talk, his dad and Dean should be able to do that as well. He nodded and answered, “Okay.” He might as well have said ‘deal,’ because that’s what his tone implied.

He didn’t get his dad’s wallet though, knowing he had enough to cover breakfast. In a few strides, he was out the door and heading to the diner across the street. Over the next few days, he was gonna get to know these people real well, he thought as he put in his order. Coffee for all three of them, oatmeal for Dean – even if he bitched about it, and two breakfast burritos.

After paying, Sam went to the door and phoned Jess. He missed her and needed to tell her they’d found Dean. Explaining why he might not be back for a while would be a bit hard. Fuck.. he hated lying to her, but he’d have to say that Dean was having memory issues or something…

Letting out a deep breath, he dialed, keeping an eye on the counter so he’d know when his order was ready.

Dean listened to the exchange between his father and brother in silence with a kind of stunned wonderment. Who could blame him after all? The last time the two men had been in the same room together had been the night Sam left for college, and he’d had to literally stand between the two men to keep them from throwing punches at each other or worse.

It wasn’t as though Dean thought they would just pick up that argument right where they left off. But the way the two had screamed at each other that night, he almost never would have believed another civil word would ever pass between them.

It was still a little hard to believe they had come to rescue him, both of them, and not killed each other first in the process. And not only were they talking to each other like civil human beings, but for the first time that Dean could recall in years, Sam actually did what his father told him without protest or question. Alright, he had questioned a little, but not in the rebellious way Sam had during most of his teenage years, and his Dad didn’t get angry and turn into an angry drill sergeant yelling at one of his soldiers for questioning his orders.

It was… odd… but in a good way. Dean could only hope this truce would last. That after he was… gone… his father and brother wouldn’t go back to hating each other. If there was one thing Dean wanted to make sure of before the end, that was it.

Dean remained silent as he watched Sam leave the room, and Dad got up and went over to the duffel that the younger man recognized containing their first aid supplies. Gathering what he would need to change his bandages, and Dean figured this was as good a time as any to really talk to the older man with his brother gone.

“Dad?” The younger man asked, almost cautiously, and his father made a sound indicating he was listening. Dean took a deep breath.

“You know I’ve… been bitten. I’m going to turn… in less than a month. I know Sammy can’t… won’t… He thinks he can save me, or something. But we know that’s not possible, and I was hoping you’d… help me… before…” Dean said cautiously, struggling with his words because how often did you ask your father to kill you?

John shopped what he was doing abruptly and turned around. A hard look in his eyes, but also one of pain that almost made Dean flinch seeing it. Dean opened his mouth again, but the elder man approached the bed again, and cut him off abruptly before he could speak.

“Stop! Don’t say another word. Listen to me. You are not going to just giving up. Your brother is not giving up on you, I’m not giving up on you, so you sure as hell are not allowed to give up on yourself.” John said firmly, and Dean was too stunned to utter a sound. The elder man put a hand on his son’s shoulder, speaking slowly and clearly, making sure Dean heard and understood every single word.

“You are my son. You are not a monster. We aren’t going to let you become one. We’re going to help you. We’re not going to kill you. Understand me?”

“Dad…”

“Understand me?”

Dean swallowed and nodded.

“Yes, sir…”

John gave his son a tight smile and squeezed his shoulder again before releasing him and straightening.

“We’ll get through this, son. You, me, and Sam. We’ll find a way.” The older man reassured before he went back to what he was doing, gathering clean bandages, a bowl of warm water, clean cloths, and anything else he would need to tend to Dean’s wounds. When he returned to the bed, he laid everything out on the table then helped him turn around onto his stomach so he could take a look at the heavy bruising and cuts on his back first. Dean simply laid there, too stunned to speak, despite his father’s confident words, his heart was full of fear and uncertainty.

Sam gave two sharp knocks before opening the door. He'd received plenty of lectured on not sneaking up on his father, never mind that dad had sneaked into his home at college. Yeah, plenty of 'do as I say not as I do, there.'.

"Hey," he looked the two men over as he walked in and dropped the bags of food on the table. Pulling the coffee cups out of the holder, he brought two over to his dad and brother, then got his own.

For someone who didn't love it when people hovered over him, Sam did a pretty good job hovering over his dad as his dad cleaned Dean's wound. It wasn't as if he hadn't learned everything about taking care of injuries from the guy, and yet he couldn't help watching like a hawk. Sometimes his gaze would slide up Dean's body to the bruises on his stomach, and then his mouth would go hard and flat. Little did he realize it, but his nostrils flared at the though of what they'd done to him.

He shifted his weight from leg to leg, anxious to start his research on werewolves and potential counters or cures. He'd been thinking about it a bit last night, and now on his way back to the room. But there was something else on his mind too. He cleared his throat. "Any word on the pack... or Jacobs?"

His dad was just as careful and efficient as always while tending to his wounds. By the time Sam returned, John had finished tending to the wounds on his back, arms, and chest, and was now tending to the infected bite on Dean’s inner thigh.

The younger man looked up at his brother’s knocks, and offered Sam a half grimace/ smile as he took the offered cup of coffee but didn’t drink any of it. Knowing his queasy stomach wouldn’t be able to handle it right now.

Their father also looking up from his task only long enough to take the offered cup from Sam as well with a nod of thanks, taking a small sip before setting it aside on the table. Returning his attention immediately after to Dean’s leg as he worked on draining the infection from the wound.

The older man was at least as good as any emergency room doctor, or field surgeon, in Dean’s opinion. Probably a good thing, considering going to the hospital emergency room often wasn’t a solution in their line of work if one of them was hurt.

His father had stitched up countless wounds, on him and Sam as well as himself with only a bottle of jack to numb the pain. He’d reset Dean’s broken bones, more than once. The older man had even preformed an emergency blood transfusion between him and his brother once after a really bad hunt because he and Sam shared the same blood type. So Dean had absolutely no doubt of the older man’s abilities.

But as he watched his brother watching their father like a hawk, Dean couldn’t help but wish it was Sam’s hands on him instead. Not that his Dad wasn’t trying to be gentle, but it still hurt like a god damn bitch. And when Sam had done this last night it hadn’t hurt nearly as bad… course that could have been due to the heavy drugs he was on, more than anything, but he still wished it was his brother’s hands on him instead of their father’s.

“No, still no word from Jacobs.” John answered Sam’s question without looking up. Spreading some antibiotic cream, that would also help dull the pain, on the wound once he was finished cleaning it. He felt Dean’s tense muscles begin to relax as it worked quickly, and he offered his elder son a reassuring smile.

“I called some hunters last night. They’re going to come and help me deal with the rest of the pack. They should be here within another day or two.” John went on as he finished taping some gauze over the wound to keep it as clean as possible. Once he was finished he wiped off his hands on a nearby towel. Looking back at Sam.

“During that time, I want you and Dean to lay low. I didn’t tell them we found him there, and I’m not going to. The last thing we need are the wrong kinds of questions they’ll ask. In a few weeks, once Dean’s recovered more, we can come up with some other story of where he’s been.”

Dean was, quite frankly, shocked by his father’s words. They were going to try to hide the fact that he was a werewolf from the other hunters? What if… Dean had no intention of allowing himself to turn, but if he did, he could take them completely by surprise. No one would know he was a danger until it was too late…

“Dad, I don’t think…” Dean started to say but his father cut him off abruptly.

“This is not a debate, son.” The older man said sharply as he reached for his coffee. Dean’s mouth snapped closed, his expression like he’d just sucked on a lemon. John ignored his pouting older son for a moment, turning his attention back to Sam.

“What did you get for breakfast?”

“He’s right.” For once, Sam agreed with his father rather than Dean. If the situation weren’t so serious, this might be comical.

Sam walked to the table and brought back the food. “Breakfast burrito for you, and…” He pulled out the bowl and set it over a pillow on Dean’s lap. “Oatmeal. Don’t complain, if there’s any poison left, it should absorb it.” His tone could be as no nonsense as his father’s, when he chose.

He pulled a chair close, and cradled his coffee in his hand. It was odd, and pleasant, how the three of them just … talked. When he was a kid, he’d loved those moments. Mostly because they were few and far between. The business always came first, always crept into the conversation and always had their dad or Dean or both of them leaving. Then Sam had grown older and the conversations had become harder because unlike Dean, he just couldn’t ‘fall in and take his marching orders.’ But today, there were no orders. It was just a father and his sons, shooting the breeze.