Four and half hours had passed. Just enough time for Sam to talk himself down. Jessica's voice had helped a lot. And then he'd dove in and done 'normal' things, like sit back and watch t.v. and research, on his own bed. Occasionally he glanced over at Dean, still sprawled on his stomach and asleep. Earlier, it was hard getting out of his mind how he'd been held and the things Dean had done to him, made him feel, in his drunken, dreaming stupor. Now... the whole thing was so surreal, Sam could hardly believe it happened.

He'd rationalized it all away. Sure his brother had kissed, and kissed, and kissed the hell out of him, but that was because Dean hadn't had sex in such a long time. He'd probably been dreaming of a blonde chick, and thought that's who he was having his way with.

It was a bit harder to explain why he, Sam, had been swept up in lust. But hell, he'd bet Dean had done hundreds of women. He was so experienced, he knew all the tricks. If you closed your eyes, not much difference between having a guy's tongue in your throat or a girls. Right.

Then there was the groping, and the undressing. And the hand job. Sam bit his lip. It was just biology... physiology. It didn't matter who manipulated your cock, it would get hard... he was a guy, and guys were easily turned on. It was a simple as that. And there was no chemistry going on between them. None.

As to how the hell Dean, who was dreaming about a girl with a nice rack, had actually started giving him a hand job... sometimes it was better not to ask questions.

There had been a lot of weird in their lives. Sam was gonna put this into the weird column, and move on. Put it behind him. Forget it.

Being startled by the sound Dean made as it looked like he was waking... so not a good start. Sam took a deep breath and made sure his shirt was buttoned up. He felt heat steeling over his cheeks and hoped to hell that Dean remembered nothing but the dream chick.

Dean had been having some good dreams. Really good, in fact, he realized almost immediately if the dried sticky mess he woke up with in the front of his jeans was any indication.

He grunted in mild disgust as he blinked his eyes open. Trying to recall some of the images from those dreams, but failing miserably. All he kept seeing was Sam's face. Anything else slipped through his mental fingers like sand, he simply couldn't hold onto them. All he could really remember was feeling… complete.

Apparently he'd been having some pretty emo dreams along with his sex dreams… He thought with a mental snort as he slowly rolled over onto his back with another grunt. His limbs still moving a little sluggishly, but he was more or less sober now.

God, he hated passing out like that. He hated waking up feeling like his head was stuffed with cotton, and his mouth dry. He licked his lips before forcing his eyes open. Wincing a little at the light even though the shades were drawn closed. The only real light in the room from the television and from his brother's laptop, along with whatever filtered in through the cracks in the shades.

He had a mild headache, which probably wasn't surprising considering he'd been drinking so early in the fucking morning, but he didn't have a full blown hangover. He usually had to drink a hell of a lot more for that. Still it was a little annoying he had one at all. Damn it for being out of practice…

"What time is it?" The elder man mumbled, scrubbing his hand over his eyes.

It took only a little effort to act casual. Sam glanced at the time on his computer screen. “Almost six. Headache? Nausea?” He looked over. “Suddenly all those shots don’t seem like a good idea, do they?” Ordinarily he’d let Dean be Dean, drink and suffer without comment, but this drunken bout had some consequences for Sam.

Right, he wasn’t gonna ever think about that again. It was just a... a thing. It happened, it was an isolated incident, and it was over. He’d just have to make sure that Dean didn’t get drunk, or that he got laid soon, or both.

Dean dropped his hand and turned his head to glare at his brother.

"No. No. Ass." He answered the younger man's questions in the order they were given. The first two weren't entirely true, but he certainly wasn't going to tell the younger man that just so Sam could say 'I told you so'. The last was definitely true however.

"What got your panties in a twist?" The elder man grumbled as he pushed himself up in the bed. Making another face at the dried mess in his jeans and things sticking awkwardly and uncomfortably.

God, he could still…

Dean hadn't drank nearly enough to forget the argument they'd had in the bar or how he'd had his brother pinned up against a tree afterward. Nor could he seem to forget how strong his brother's scent had filled his senses, standing that close to him. He could still smell his brother, all over him, like… he still had him pinned up against that damn tree even though Sam was sitting feet away from him. So strong he could practically taste him.

He knew this had to be part of the whole werewolf thing, all of his senses sharpened to acute levels, but Jesus Christ, he smelled like he had been rolling around in his brother or something.

"I'm going to take a shower." Dean informed the younger man almost distractedly as he got up and limped his way into the bathroom. He needed to wash his brother's scent off him right the fuck now because… it kept making him think of the dreams he'd had, and something just told him not to go there, he wouldn't like what he found.

Panties in a twist. Sam made a face. Dean was the master of finding his weak point, even when he didn’t realize it. There was a bright side though... a silver lining in all of this. Dean didn’t remember, he really didn’t, which made all of it a lot easier to deal with.

“Shower. Best idea you’ve had yet,” he answered, unable to keep the sarcastic edge out of his voice.

Once the door to bathroom banged closed, he shut the lid of the laptop and put it on the nightstand. Dad hadn’t even been gone twenty four hours and he was already worrying about how quickly he’d get the help they needed for Dean. Listing all of the changes in Dean’s behavior had hit home the fact that Dean was different, and he’d just get more different every day. His brothers controlling edge, the way his nostrils occasionally flared as if he was using his sense of smell, the wild look that sometimes flashed in his eyes reminded Sam of someone’s blog about the stages of werewolfhood. He’d discounted it as a work of fiction, but when he went back to it... he wasn’t so sure, and he’d started to log the changes in Dean the same way.

Eventually getting off the bed, he walked to the window and stretched while looking outside. It was getting dark, and he’d missed breakfast and lunch. He should just go get them dinner.

Glancing at the bathroom door, he grabbed his wallet from the table, and headed out toward the small diner next door.

Dean stood in the shower, his eyes closed, and his head bent underneath the spray just letting the hot water run over his head and the back of his neck. Letting it relax his tight muscles. Rinsing away the evidence of his dreams, and the smell of his brother clinging stubbornly to his skin.

Too bad it couldn’t do anything to rinse away the confusion he felt.

Why the hell couldn’t he stop thinking about Sam? He didn’t think he’d ever been so… aware… of the younger man in his whole life. Sure, he’d always watched out for his brother. Took care of him. Made sure nothing could hurt him. From the monster under the bed, to bullies at school, to the real monsters Dad taught them how to fight when they got older.

Sure, he’d missed Sam terribly when his brother left, but… If he could just chalk it up to missing his brother or something because he hadn’t seen him in such a long time, that would be one thing, but he knew that wasn’t it.

For one thing, when he’d had his brother pinned up against that tree with his body, knowing the younger man was all but helpless, dominating him, a part of him had been… excited. Owning him… He’d never been so possessive of Sam before. Sam was his little brother, he took care of him, he didn’t own him.

And when he’d woken up that one morning and Sam had accused him of kissing him… He’d been confused and embarrassed by the dream he’d had, but Dean could clearly remember the desire he’d felt from that dream. How good the hard male body beneath him had felt. His brother’s lips warm and welcoming, opening for him as Sam clung to him, moaning into his mouth.

Remembering that dream and superimposing it over the vague images he was beginning to recall from his drunken dreams earlier had his heart hammering and his body flushing with arousal so fast he gasped in shock. Shoving the images and feelings away ruthlessly.

For god’s sake! It was his brother he was thinking about! Not some… some random chick… his brother! Christ! Was he that horny? Maybe he should have taken Cassandra up on one of her ‘offers’ after all if he was this bad now…

Dean made a face of disgust at the thought of the werewolf bitch and turned the knobs on the shower so it was blasting ice cold water now for good measure. He finished his shower quickly and was shivering by the time he stepped out and dried off, but at least he’d taken care of his less than pure thoughts about his brother. He could think clearly again, and that was the important thing. No more alcohol for him, at least, not as much as he’d had…

Getting laid might not be a bad idea either.

All the calm he thought he’d found took a flying leap out the window as soon as he opened the bathroom door and realized Sam was gone. It wasn’t as though it were out of the ordinary. His brother could have just stepped outside, or gone to get them dinner, or something. He had absolutely no reason to be worried, or angry, but he was both. The reaction was anything but normal, he knew his brother didn’t need his fucking permission to leave the room but…

A low growl left his throat as he went over to his duffel and quickly threw on some clean clothes. He was out the motel door less than a minute later, half expecting the younger man to be just outside talking on the phone with Dad or something, but when he wasn’t Dean growled again softly. His eyes darting around, there wasn’t many places his brother could have gone on foot since they didn’t have a car. He sniffed the air, and then his eyes locked on the diner not far away.

Dean made his way as quickly to the diner as his bum leg allowed him to. Pushing open the door, and there was Sam, standing at the counter. A few strides and he was standing next to his brother, his hand reaching out to grasp the younger man’s arm tightly before he realized what he was doing and relaxed his grip but not his hold.

“Don’t run off like that again.” He told Sam in a low, almost warning, voice.

Sam turned and gave Dean a ‘what the hell’ look, and pulled his arm back. “Who’s running off?” He didn’t like Dean’s tone, not even a little. “Stop playing dad and, if anything, you’re the one who’s supposed to stay in the room.” Deliberately ignoring the warning in Dean’s eyes, he looked back up at the board. Sometimes getting back to normal was a matter of acting normal and not acknowledging the little things that might be ‘out of place.’

“Figured you’d be starved by now. How about a pastrami sandwich, no onions,” his mouth pulled into a smile, “and a salad to balance it off and, you know… try to be a bit healthy?” Yeah, yeah, he knew a request for dessert was coming too.

Dean’s eyes narrowed a little and his jaw clenched when the younger man pulled away from him and told him to ‘stop playing dad’. Reminding him that he was the one who wasn’t supposed to leave the room. Especially since Sam leaving the room wasn’t what pissed him off the most. It was Sam leaving the room without telling him… asking him… or letting him know where he was going. What if something had happened…

He’s a grown man, for Christ sake. Not a two year old anymore. Get a grip. A voice inside ‘reminded’ him and it only pissed him off more.

Dean took a deep breath and blew it out, glancing up at the menu board when his brother pointed it out and the elder man finally realized just how hungry he really was. He frowned again and gave the younger man a mild glare when Sam ‘suggested’ what he get for dinner.

“Bacon cheeseburger, extra onions, cheese fries, and fuck your salad.” Dean replied with a cocky grin. He still hadn’t quite forgiven Sam for the whole oatmeal incident, or the other healthy shit he’d been forcing him to eat the last couple of days. Well, he was getting something extra artery clogging to make up for it.

“I’m going to find a seat. Get me some pie too.” He told the younger man over his shoulder as he went to find a booth to sit at, not really waiting for Sam to answer. Now that he was out of the room he didn’t have any intention of going back just yet.

Staring at Dean as he left, Sam shook his head. Impossible… his brother was impossible. But then he should already know that.

“Next.”

Taking a deep breath, he walked up to the counter. “Two hamburgers, chilli cheese fries, two side salads, and some…” he looked up at the menu, “apple pie with a side of vanilla ice cream.” He selected drinks and took his wallet out. “We’re sitting right over there,” he pointed at Dean.

“We have waitresses for that.”

“Yeah… I know, he decided to eat here.” Giving an innocent shrug, Sam paid and headed into the restaurant seating area.

Pulling his chair out and dropping down on it, Sam studied Dean’s face. “Shouldn’t you be suffering from alcohol poisoning or something? There’s no justice in this world.” At Dean’s dark look, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so damned grumpy.” Hopefully Dean wasn’t gonna be as hard to handle now as he’d been in the morning when he was stone cold sober, and later, when he’d been so drunk he’d… Feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, he put his hand to his mouth and coughed.

“Dean? Tell me about the werewolves.” He met Dean’s gaze. “I’ve been seeing some references to older or experienced werewolves who are able to control shifting. You think that’s possible based on what you saw.” Somehow, asking him about this was easier out here in public than in their room alone. He didn’t know why, but he sensed he was on dangerous ground here.

Dean gave his brother a look that was clearly not amused when the younger man came over to sit with him and complaining about his lack of a hangover. Just because his lightweight of a brother couldn’t hold his damn liquor, drunk as a skunk after three beers and paying for it the next day.

The elder man smirked and flipped his brother the bird when Sam called him ‘grumpy’.

“Well, if I’m Grumpy, then you’re Dopey.” Dean replied, taking a drink from his soda when the waitress brought it over. She wasn’t bad, a cute little redhead with a decent rack, giving him a flirty look, but Dean spared her no more than a brief glance before turning his attention back to his brother. She pouted walked off with a huff.

Tell me about the werewolves…

Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother’s question. A little surprised by it considering he figured the younger man would be all ‘hush, hush’ about the werewolf thing and they were in a… Ok, not so crowded diner, but not exactly empty either.

He didn’t know why the question made him so uncomfortable. But then again, the six months he’d spent captive of the fucking freaks wasn’t exactly his fondest memories. He didn’t really want to talk about it, but Sam wasn’t asking him about it really either. Just about werewolves in general, and if there was anything Dean was somewhat of an ‘expert’ now on, it was werewolves.

Dean sighed heavily and took another drink. Wishing it was something a little harder than coke.

“Based on what I saw? Yes.” Dean looked down at his glass. He probably could have just left it at that, and not elaborated, but he supposed if one ‘good’ thing that could come out of this was other hunters knew more about werewolves…

“There was one. Daniel. Big, ugly ass mother fucker. He was in charge of us. When they kept us in the pens between fights. Made sure we behaved ourselves. Didn’t try to escape.”

Dean made a face at the memory.

“Cassandra came to ‘inspect’ us one day. See who she wanted to see in the fights that night. One of the other prisoners started mouthing off at her, really pissing her off, though she didn’t show it but narrowing her eyes.” He sighed and shook his head.

“She told Daniel to get rid of him and right there in front of us, high noon he changed. Not just fangs and claws but the whole shebang, completely wolfed out. Ripped the poor guy’s head clean off his shoulders…”

From the way Dean grew a bit quiet and looked away, Sam knew he was pushing Dean to go places that he didn’t want. It had to be done though, they needed to know as much as they could and if that meant digging until Dean snapped, so be it.

A cold chill went down Sam’s back as he imagined the scenes unfolding the way Dean told it. Knowing Dean, the pain from the fights in the pen were nothing compared to the frustration his brother must have felt at being at the werewolves’ mercy, and of not being able to defend others… save them. Dean might deny it, but he definitely had a hero complex.

“There was one. Daniel. Big, ugly ass mother fucker. He was in charge of us. When they kept us in the pens between fights. Made sure we behaved ourselves. Didn’t try to escape.”

That hadn’t worked out too well in Dean’s case since Sam knew his brother had attempted several escapes. He tried to keep a lid on the anger that started to simmer within him. Guess he was more like dad than he’d like to believe because every once in a while, all he could think about was taking them out for what they did to Dean.

When Dean mentioned Cassandra, Sam’s gaze flew to Dean’s face. She was the bitch whose teeth marked Dean’s thigh.

“She told Daniel to get rid of him and right there in front of us, high noon he changed. Not just fangs and claws but the whole shebang, completely wolfed out. Ripped the poor guy’s head clean off his shoulders…”

“That’s great!” Sam flashed his teeth as he smiled, and held onto his hope, despite the strange look his brother was giving him. Neither one could talk while the waitress set their food down in front of them, and buzzed around Dean for a few more minutes. Sam rolled his eyes… what else was new.

When she left, he leaned in over the table. “Not that he ripped the guy’s head off, but Dean… now we know one that can shift at will. If we were to trap him, and our worst case happened,” he couldn’t bring himself to say it, but they both knew worst case meant they were unable to stop Dean from turning. “We could force him to train you to control shifting. Look man, I know you don’t want to think about that,” he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and looked intently into his eyes, “but one of us has to.”

That’s great?

Dean couldn’t help but stare at his brother as though he’d grown a second and third head. A look he usually only reserved for the people he met that he thought were either complete idiots or complete lunatics.

Since he knew his brother wasn’t an idiot… under normal circumstances at least… he had to come to the conclusion that the younger man had simply lost his mind.

The waitress came with their food then, preventing Dean from answering his brother right away. Hovering around, trying to behave flirty again, and didn’t leave until Dean threw her a nasty glare for her efforts.

“Oh yeah?” He asked finally, shrugging off his brother’s hand from his shoulder. “Well, stop thinking about it.”

God, he couldn’t believe… what the hell was his brother thinking! He leaned in close to his brother, narrowing his eyes.

“You just don’t get it, do you? Yeah, the guy can change at will, whenever he damn well pleases. Do you have any idea why? Because he was a fucking animal even when he was ‘human’, Sam.”

The elder man sat back and turned to look out the window, shaking his head.

“That’s what happens eventually. If you live long enough. When you completely give in to the curse. You don’t control it, it controls you. That wasn’t him controlling the wolf, that was the wolf being able to take control of him whenever the hell it wants. You’re saying that’s what you want for me?”

Between the expressions of disbelief directed at him, and the patronizing way in which Dean talked to him, Sam slowly simmered. By the time Dean was done, Sam’s nostrils were flaring and he was ready to light into his brother.

“You know damn well that’s not what I want. Let me ask you a question, Dean, why the fuck are you so ready to give up? Huh?” He leaned forward, locking gazes with his brother. “Everything I say, you’re all, no, nope, won’t work, can’t do it. Why are you so fucking quick to discount everything, prejudge it, close the book on it.”

Sitting straight again, he took a deep breath. “It’s almost as if you’re afraid. Afraid of hope. Afraid to live.” He shook his head, “but don’t you go trying to take that away from me, cause it’s not happening. You can talk down to me, pretend I’m still that whiny kid in elementary, you can belittle my ideas… do your best, but I’m not giving up.”

His gaze dropped to his food, and suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore. “You know what? I can do this with or without you.” Oh he knew full well Dean wouldn’t like that at all, but that was just too bad. He was sick of this.

“There’s lore out there that says a person can control the werewolf in them. You didn’t see it, fine. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. A tranq gun, some truth serum… I can get any of them to sing.” Yeah, he didn’t really mean all alone, he’d need dad and his contacts, but he had to make his point.

Dean could actually feel his blood pressure rising steadily as he locked eyes with the younger man across the table from him. His own narrowing dangerously, sparks practically flashing between them in a furious test of wills. Dean growing more furious with every word his brother spoke, but either Sam didn’t notice (unlikely), or he simply didn’t care.

Until finally Dean reached out to grasp his brother’s wrist in a bruising grip. Knowing it was painful, but he simply couldn’t stop his fingers from digging into flesh and bone brutally. It was either that, or reach over the table and snap his little brother’s neck.

“Don’t you fucking talk to me like I’m an idiot, or I’m just being Mr. Glass-Half-Empty. I haven’t been on some fucking spa vacation, or frat party, for the last six months!” He all but growled. His fingers tightened around the younger man’s wrist even more, and he actually felt the bones shift a little but he still didn’t let up on the pressure. He needed his brother to listen to him. Needed him to understand.

“You have no fucking idea what I saw. What I went through! You think you’re such a damn expert on werewolves now because you read a lot of crap on some stupid web sites? The only one of us who isn’t being ‘realistic’ about this is you. So, fine, do your fucking research, and read your lore, but when it comes down to it you still don’t know jack shit!”

Finally he released his brother’s wrist and sat back.

“Maybe I am afraid. But guess what, you’re not afraid enough, and I’m not going to let you get yourself killed trying to ‘save’ me!”

Sam's eyes widened at the brutal force with which his wrist was grabbed. If he hadn't been so angry himself, he might have been afraid of the way Dean's eyes drilled into him and the sheer fury behind the words he growled out.

Frat party. Right... low blow, Even though he didn't try to pull his hand back, the sudden shock of Dean's thumb pressing at his joint and threatening to pop it had him wincing and mentally cursing. If they'd been outside or in their room, there was no way he'd have taken this. No way.

As soon as Dean released him, he rubbed his wrist and looked around to confirm they hadn't drawn attention, then his gaze flicked back. "Forget half empty, you don't even see the glass Dean."

He got up, bumping into the table, making the plates clatter in the process. "And don't ever put your hands on me like that again or you won't like the result." Grabbing his drink, not caring it wasn't in a paper cup, he walked away, almost running over the waitress in the process.

She rushed to the table. "Should I wrap that up 'to go' for him? Anything else I can do for you? Anything?"

As Dean watched his brother storm out of the diner he felt his heart fall somewhere down about the center of the earth.

He couldn’t believe what he had just done… almost done… He could have snapped his brother’s wrist right there and he’d been so angry he almost hadn’t cared. What the fuck was wrong with him? He couldn’t have a single fucking conversation with Sam without snapping at him, or hurting him…

It was like he just couldn’t control himself. Everything Sam said set him off. He knew his brother was only trying to help him, because he cared, but he was so damn afraid what would happen to Sam if he tried any of his crazy ideas. Tried to save him, when he couldn’t be saved, and ended up getting himself killed.

It hadn’t been this bad when Dad had been here. But now…

Dean wanted to run after the younger man. Apologize. Beg his forgiveness. He didn’t want things to be like this between them. He had less than a month and he just wanted…

He looked up at the waitress when she rushed over, his already non-existent patience ready to snap completely, and how he reigned himself in he’d never known. Maybe it was the sudden realization of what he had to do. Now that Sam was angry enough not to be watching him like a hawk. He’d been foolish to believe he’d get a month. He was lucky he’d gotten these few days. He didn’t want this to be the last thing they ever said to each other, but… you don’t always get what you want, do you?

Dean looked down at the food neither of them had touched, and then back to the girl. Managing a fake smile.

“Sure, Sweetheart, you can do something for me. Wrap them both up, and if he comes back… give him your condolences for his brother.” Dean somehow managed to keep most of the sarcasm and bitterness from his voice through force of will alone, as he stood, and pushed his way past the waitress. Walking out of the diner and heading in the opposite direction of the motel as quickly as he could manage with his bum leg.

Unfortunately he didn’t have a gun, or anything silver for that matter, which was a shame because he liked to be thorough. But he was sure he could think of something. A bridge or a high enough overpass, that had to do the job. Then his Dad and Sam could finally get on with their lives.

For a long time, Sam stood leaning against the motel wall, staring into the forest. He was in the back of the motel, where there was no walkway and no people, just thinking and trying to calm himself down. He hadn’t been this pissed off since… yeah since the last time he was pissed at dad. That was common, but this… well he didn’t usually get this mad at Dean.

He wanted his brother back. He wanted him to fight for his life, for whatever they could salvage. Cure or no cure. And if he couldn’t have that, he wanted Dean to at least let him try… let him find a way. He was sick of being beaten down and told he knew nothing. It wasn’t true. He might not be the great hunter his dad and brother were, but he wasn’t inept, and he sure as hell wasn’t as careless or clueless as Dean tried to make him out to be.

Then there was the… He took another breath, and touched his still sore wrist. How much manhandling was he supposed to take? First against the tree, then… he bit his lip at the thought of what had happened on the bed. Okay, that wasn’t his fault. He’d been drunk, and dreaming. But at dinner, he’d been out of control… over nothing.

If he hadn’t been just as angry as Dean, he might have felt fear at the savage way he’d gripped him, and the merciless look in his eyes. He mentally cursed him, and looked up at the pitch black sky. Did it have to do with the tides of the moon, was that what this aggression was about? And if it was, would it get worse?

No, because was just going to fucking have to learn to control that temper. Now semi-calm, Sam walked around the building and set the glass cup in front of one of the motel room doors. Glancing at the diner, he saw that their table had been vacated, and headed to their room.

Two minutes later, he was in the diner demanding to know where Dean was. The message the waitress gave him had him blanching. “Which way did he go? What do you mean you don’t know?” Cursing under his breath, he ran outside. Maybe it was joke made in bad taste. Maybe he’d headed for the bar. No, not without money. And he knew that was wishful thinking anyway.

An icy cold hand clutched his gut. The lake. He’d told Dean about it this morning. He started running again, through the woods, almost stumbling over the roots. The only thing he had going for him was that Dean couldn’t run, but still. As he got closer, he started to shout, “Dean? Dean?” Over and over, until he was hoarse, and it sank in that either Dean wasn’t here, or … no.

Bending over as he caught his breath, he started to think of scenarios. If Dean were going to do something nuts, he’d go for the gun. But he didn’t have the room key. He couldn’t drive himself off a cliff or into a tree… no car. He could stand in the road. Holy shit, no, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave a random driver with that much guilt.

And then Sam remembered the bridge on the road to the motel. But Dean wouldn’t know about it. He’d been in no shape to see where they were on their drive here. Then again, he’d walked the opposite way when they’d gone to the bar… so he might explore a new route. “Fuck.”

One again, he took off a dead run, lengthening his strides as far as he could. Each lungful of air became painful as he strained to get to the bridge. His muscles burned, hid heart worked overtime, but all he could think about was he could be losing his brother right this moment.

It felt like hours, but Sam reached the end of the bridge and saw Dean father down, staring over its side. He hadn’t climbed the railing yet. “Dean! Dean!” he shouted, slowing down, and putting one hand against the railing as fog hanged in the air marking each of his heavy breaths. “Don’t. Just…" he pointed at Dean, "...don’t.”

Dean stood in the middle of the bridge, leaning against the edge, his arms against the railing, looking relaxed as he stared down at the white rushing water far below. To anyone else it might have looked as though he were just enjoying the scenery. At least, it would if it wasn't so dark no one else would have been able to see the scenery, but the dimness of the evening light didn't impair him at all.

It was impossible to tell how deep the water was from here, but Dean knew at this height it would hardly matter. Hitting the water would be like hitting cement, and if the fall didn't kill him on impact then it would surely break practically every bone in his body and he'd drown soon after. Dean shivered a little in the chilly air. Not the way he would have wanted to go, but you don't always get what you want, do you?

He sighed heavily, watching his breath form a little white cloud in front of him. Smiling bitterly as he watched the moon rise slowly over the horizon. It was huge. Orange red. A little like old blood. Fitting he supposed that this was the last thing he'd ever see. The universe was not without a sense of humor.

He wished his last thoughts could have been more...poetic or something, remembering all the 'good ol times' or some shit like that. But he supposed it was no surprise his thoughts were only filled with regret. That he was stupid enough to get caught by the werewolves in the first place. That he hadn't managed to escape before they... she... turned him. That he hadn't just killed himself somehow before Sam and Dad had finally found him.

He regretted not being able to say goodbye to his Dad. Or even to Sammy. God, why couldn't he have thought of some 'better' message to leave his brother. Take care of yourself or Its not your fault because god knew Sam would try to blame himself for this. Hell, even a cheesy I love you or I'm sorry would have been better... If he'd had the time, he would have written the younger man a whole god damned note, but it wasn't like he'd actually thought this out before hand. But when opportunity knocked...

Dean laughed bitterly.

Stop wasting time. Just get it over with.

Yeah, best idea he'd had all day. Dean sighed again as he recalled his brother's words, and his expression turned pained. Blinking back tears as he straightened, his hands gripping the edge of the railing tightly as he took a deep breath and held it.

It was then that he heard his name shouted from the other end of the bridge and Dean mentally cursed as he turned his head to look at his brother. The younger man was out of breath. His chest heaving, and covered in sweat. He must have run the entire way here, and he was holding on to the railing, a little like Dean, like that was the only thing holding him up. Though if it was relief that made the other man weak, or exhaustion, Dean didn't know.

Don't.

Dean barely made out the word over his brother's ragged breathing, and Dean found himself torn where moments ago he'd been determined. If there was one thing he didn't want, however, it was his brother to have to watch this. He knew he could let go of the railing now, walk away, back to his brother, and call the younger man an idiot for overreacting.

But then he remembered the diner. Outside the bar. No. This might be his only chance. What if next time he lost his temper he really hurt Sam? Or Sam got hurt or killed trying one of his crazy stunts, like capturing another werewolf, trying to save him. Or he actually made it to the full moon and he changed...

He wanted to tell his bother to go back to the fucking motel, not to watch this, but he knew like hell that was going to happen. Dean mentally calculated the distance between them. Trying to figure out what chance he had of doing this, climbing over the railing with his injured leg before Sam could reach him given how exhausted the younger man looked. He figured his odds were pretty good.

Dean smiled at his brother sadly.

"Goodbye Sammy." He said softly, he knew his brother wouldn't be able to hear him, but that didn't really matter now either. Dean moved fast then. Hoisting himself onto the edge, cement and cold metal digging into his palms, scraping his knuckles. He teetered there, nothing but air in front of him and a long drop and crushing death waiting below. He closed his eyes as he started to fall forward.

Sam felt his heart lurch. He didn't even need to hear the words, but the look was enough.

"Dean!" he shouted, pushing off from the railing and running again, his eyes laser-focused on his brother. No... no he couldn't let him go, not like this.

He lunged just as Dean started to go over, blindly reaching out to grab at anything. The railing slammed into his stomach, knocking all the air out of him, but the pain was nothing... nothing when closing his hands and gripping tight... he knew he had Dean. One arm, one shoulder, and Dean was beating is legs, trying to make him let go... dragging him down.

No way. Sam didn't open his mouth, he just stared into Dean's eyes, struggling to pull him up, and threatening to go over with him. His arms burned. His stomach was sure to be bruised. But he had this second chance... no third, and there had to be a reason... a reason Dean could cheat death so many times. If only he'd see it.

Dean suddenly seemed to still. The steam from their breaths mingled. Even now, they were in a test of wills and Sam just couldn't believe it. He worked his jaw. "Answer me this, Dean. How do you feel about mom's death?" He breathed heavily, struggling to maintain his grip. "And then tell me how you'd feel about it if she'd killed herself."

He let the words hang between them, not yielding in any way. Not in the way his stare drilled into his brother, not in the knowledge that he was right and Dean was dead wrong, and not in the way he fought to get him back over the railing.

It was kind of funny. Dean hated flying. Absolutely hated it, so it was a really good thing that Dad had always drove them everywhere and they never left the country. But when he'd stepped off the edge of the bridge he hadn't been afraid. It was actually kind of a relief that it wasn't so bad. On some level he knew the landing would be far less pleasant, but hopefully it would only hurt for a second and then it would be over…

The abrupt stop, when it came, was a lot sooner than Dean had expected and it did hurt. A lot.

He slammed bodily into the side of the bridge. The blow knocking all the air from his lungs and his arm wrenching painfully. When he felt his shoulder pop out of its socket from the force of everything he would have screamed if he could, but that would have taken air first and he had none.

Tears of pain in his eyes he stared up at the hand locked around his arm with utter disbelief at first, following that hand up an arm to the younger man's face. His brother hanging half over the edge of the railing, the other man's finger gripping onto him even tighter than Dean had in the diner. Holding onto him for dear life. Refusing to let go.

Sam had caught him. He couldn't believe it.

No… god damn it… no!

Dean began struggling. Kicking his legs, trying to twist his arm out of his brother's grip, break Sam's hold on him. He had to do this! He had to! Why couldn't Sam fucking see that!

He thought he felt himself slip a little lower, but no. Sam's fingers were still digging bruises into his flesh into the exact same place, and the elder man realized in horror that he was dragging his brother over the side. Sam wasn't letting him go, his brother was going to let him drag him over with him, rather than release him.

Dean grew utterly still then. Panting heavily. Pain still robbing his voice, when he wanted to beg Sam to just let him go. He was going to fall, god damn it, if he didn't let him go! His heart finally hammering with fear in his chest, but not for himself, for Sam. When his brother finally spoke however, it nearly stopped all together.

It wasn't the same… not nearly the same and his brother god damned knew it! Their mother had been killed by some kind of evil son of a bitch, and even if… if… Their mother hadn't been a monster! He was a monster now, even if Sam didn't want to see it. He was just like one of those god damned things that they hunted. He was just like one of those things that… had killed their mother… What had to happen before Sam would see that? Did he have to kill Dad? Did he have to kill Sam…?

He was going to kill Sam. If he didn't help his brother get him back up, they were both going to go down, and with a muffled curse Dean now fought to hold on. To twist his wrist around enough to grab onto Sam's arm. His other hand scrambling around, trying to find a handhold somewhere.

To take his weight off of Sam as much as he could. To give his brother back enough leverage so the younger man could pull them both back up. For a few horrifying seconds he wasn't sure he could manage it, and the pain in dislocated shoulder was growing steadily worse, making it hard to think, hard to keep reaching, keep holding on. Finally his scraped fingers managed to reach enough to grasp onto the ledge, and Dean fought to pull himself up by it.

For a heart beat, Sam thought it was over. That Dean had changed his mind too late... too late for Sam’s tired muscles to do the work they needed to pull him up.

No. He expected no less of himself than of his brother. He wouldn’t give up. Grunting with pain and exertion, he half dragged half allowed Dean to climb up him like a rope, until he came over edge and dropped down. Dean was standing... barely ... but at least he was on the right side of the railing.

Sam was on the verge of collapsing, himself, but all the fear, the anxiety, the sheer terror of what Dean had just put him through came to an explosive head. His fist surged out and connected with Dean’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. Sam was literally shaking as he stood over him, looking down. “You can keep your fucking condolences,” he ground out, “my brother has balls the size of Texas, and I’m just waiting on him to get back here and do what he always does. Fight back.”

Staggering until he was against the railing, Sam slid down to the ground, sitting with his back against it and taking in deep breaths. He hurt everywhere, inside and out. Lungs burning, arms and stomach aching, but mostly he hurt in those places that you couldn’t see or touch. “I want him back. He always knew what to do,” he whispered to himself, so low, no human ears could hear.

Really, the last thing Dean had been expecting once he was standing on solid ground again was to find himself knocked off his feet. Though he supposed in hind sight, it probably shouldn't have been much of a surprise. He landed against the asphalt hard with no way to really break his fall. Re-bruising what was already bruised to hell, and his jaw now throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

He looked up at his brother with wide eyes, blood dripping from his split lip, and clutching his injured shoulder. Though he wasn't sure what hurt worse, his physical injuries or the verbal lashing Sam was giving him now.

Waiting on him to fight back… All that was really left he could do was damage control. Why couldn't Sam see that… What was the point in fighting a lost cause? Then again… when had that ever stopped him before?

The elder man watched his brother slump down against the railing, his entire posture one of defeat and pain Dean had never wanted to see on Sam. He felt his gut twist painfully at the sight. Even more so when he heard the words his brother probably had no intention of letting him hear, however the younger man had no idea how keen his senses had become.

I wish I knew where he was, Sammy. I really do. I don't think he exists anymore…

He still thought it was a lost cause, but he had never abandoned his brother in a fight before… and he couldn't now. He would just have to try… somehow… He understood now, that his brother simply wasn't going to let him go. Come hell or high water, no matter what it took, Sam wasn't going to give up. Dean could either help him, or bring Sam down with him. There were no other choices.

Dean sighed heavily and pushed himself up with a grunt with his good arm. Shifting around so he could sit against the concrete wall next to the younger man but not touching him. Licking his bloody lip with a wince as he turned to look at his brother.

"Ok, Sam." He finally said softly, for the first time not saying it to simply placate his brother. "Ok…"

For a long time, they sat there, in silence. Bodies broken, souls... Sam didn’t even know if they were on the mend or it was just a trick. Searching Dean’s face for the truth, he just couldn’t be sure... and that kept him scared, even if the anger drained out of him.

“Ok,” he eventually echoed, nodding. He pressed his elbows back against the railing and started to push up. “Carry me back?” he asked Dean who looked like he was in worse condition.

Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother, but there was no real heat in the glare.

“Bitch.” He muttered, shaking his head as he started to struggle up as well. Not having a very easy time of it at all and he swore under his breath a few times until he finally managed to get back on his feet. Holding his injured arm with his other one as he started to limp slowly back to the motel.

Oh, yeah, he was going to feel great in the morning.

Sooner or later he was going to have to pop his shoulder back into place too, and he knew from experience that was never fun. There was no way he was about to complain about it, however. If it were up to him, he’d rather forget what had just happened. Pretend it didn’t happen. He knew that was wishful thinking though. Sam will never let him live this down. Never.

Boy was he going to get it when Dad came back…

Dean sighed softly, turning his head. His eyes once more catching sight of the blood red moon rising slowly over the trees, and the elder man felt a shiver run through his body that had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

“Jerk,” Sam automatically answered.

They had to look like the walking wounded as they made their way back alongside of the road at an excruciatingly slow pace. They didn’t say much, either conserving their energy or afraid they might say too much.

As they finally started to pass the diner, Sam rolled his eyes when Dean pushed the door open and went inside. He didn’t even have to ask... he knew, even before Dean came out with the doggy bag.

Tiredly, he walked ahead to their room and shoved the door open. He didn’t get how his brother kept his appetite, no matter what. As Dean started opening the food up, he shook his head again. “You can have mine.”

Walking into the bathroom, he wet a washcloth and threw it at Dean. The blood on the corner of his mouth only served to remind him of how he’d punched him. He wasn’t sorry, Dean had deserved it. But he hated his own loss of self control.

Now all he wanted was a hot shower to wash off the sweat and maybe relax his strained muscles. Leaving the door wide open, he gave Dean a look. If he so much as tried to leave the room...

Then he got the shower going, mentally complaining about how his baby sitting duties had just gotten harder. He’d have to sleep with one eye open or something. One by one, he dropped his jacket and shirts on the sink, then kicked off his shoes and lost his pants and shorts. There was a thick, red mark across his stomach and he knew it would be blue by morning.

Opening the shower door again, he stepped inside, closing his eyes as the hot water ran down his head and shoulders, washing the grime away. He just stood there, not even soaping for a while, letting the water ease his tension, even as he deliberately made sure he wasn’t so relaxed that he wouldn’t hear doors or windows from the other room.

Dean caught the wet rag thrown at him with his good hand, muttering a thanks his brother probably didn’t even hear because Sam had gone into the bathroom and… left the door wide open. The elder man frowned at the look his brother gave him. Like after all that he was going to try to ‘escape’ or something and go right back to the bridge.

He rolled his eyes and started in on his slightly lukewarm chilly cheese fries, not like that bothered him in the least, and they were still pretty damn good anyway. It took his mind off how much his shoulder hurt. He licked some cheese off his fingers, trying to concentrate on his meal, but almost against his will his eyes were drawn back to the open door of the bathroom.

His brother had already stripped off his shirts and he couldn’t seem to look away as the younger man stripped off his jeans. When Sam took off his boxers his mouth felt dry and he had a hard time swallowing. Dean tried to look away, but he just… couldn’t…

What the fuck…

When his brother got into the shower somehow he managed to tear his eyes away from Sam, breathing heavily and trying to ignore how tight his jeans suddenly felt. Dean looked down at his crotch like his dick was a traitor or something, then he stood suddenly. Deciding this was as good a time as any to pop his shoulder back into place.

Standing against the wall he took two deep breaths, then held it. Gripping his arm tightly with his good hand, as he jammed his shoulder hard back against the wall.

“Shit! Fuck!” The elder man cursed loudly in pain, but he felt his shoulder pop back into place so at least he wouldn’t have to hit it again. It felt ‘better’ afterwards, but it still didn’t feel very good. At least he could move his arm again and it had taken care of his ‘other’ problem pretty damn well too.

Sam almost went crashing through the glass shower door in his rush to get out and see what happened. “Dean?!” He was three steps into the bedroom and as naked as the day he was born, before he saw Dean leaning against the wall, cradling his shoulder.

Putting two and two together, he let out a sigh of relief. It was that or be angry again, and he was all out of anger for the night. Wiping his hand over his wet face, and then seeing the puddle he left, he turned back and got a bath towel from the bathroom. Drying off quickly, he draped it around his waist and came back inside. “A warning might have been nice. You scared the hell out of me.” He didn’t say again.

Strolling to his bed, he sat down and leaned against the pillows. “You alright? We’ve got pain meds.” He was halfway thinking of taking a tylenol himself. “You don’t have to sit there and suffer, you know?”

He was so fucking tired, but also afraid of going to sleep before Dean. It was gonna be a damn long night.

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his brother shout his name like that. His heart hammering against his ribs at a jackhammer pace. The first thought that filtered through his panicked brain, of course, that something had happened to Sam.

He was about to rush into the bathroom to see what the hell was going on but the younger man had already beat him to it. Running into the main room, dripping and stark naked, and Dean realized quickly that Sam must have been thinking the same thing when he heard him shout.

He didn’t know whether to feel relieved, foolish, or slightly irritated for the heart attack Sam had almost given him, however any complaint he might have voiced died unspoken when another switch in his brain clicked.

Sam had run into the room naked and wet and Dean felt his blood pressure skyrocket for a different reason as he stared at his brother. His eyes nearly falling out of his head they were so wide and his jaw hanging open like he was trying to catch flies or something.

Jesus Christ… Jesus fucking Christ…

It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d ever seen his brother naked or anything, but his body’s reactions were so far from brotherly it frightened him. His boner was back in full force and, fuck, he felt a burning desire to close the distance between them and lick some of that warm water dripping down his brother’s chest from his skin.

Christ, what kind of a fucking pervert was he? That he couldn’t stop thinking about his brother like that! Dreams were one thing, because, let’s face it, dreams were weird anyway and often beyond control. But he was awake now damn it!

Sam seemed to finally realize his state of undress and went back into the bathroom, and Dean realized he hadn’t been breathing that whole time when he was finally able to suck in a desperate gasp. Shaking his head, coming to his senses, and once more glaring at his traitorous dick.

His brother returned, thankfully, with a towel but that wasn’t much better, and Dean forced himself not to look at his brother at all.

“I’m just peachy.” He answered Sam’s concern, trying to keep the frustration at himself out of his voice, not wanting Sam to get the wrong idea and sure as hell not wanting to explain it. He sighed and nodded a little however when the younger man mentioned the pain meds. Going over and grabbing the first aid kit sitting on the dresser. Pulling out a bottle and tossing a couple of pills into his mouth and dry swallowing them. Throwing the bottle to Sam next without really looking at him.

“I’m going to hit the sack.” Dean said then as he started to strip out of his clothing, struggling a little but he tried not to make it obvious. Not wanting Sam to annoyingly point out that he deserved every one of his aches and pains or something. Once he was down to his boxers, he slid under the covers of his bed, laying with his back to his brother, facing away from him. Away from the temptation the younger man shouldn’t be.

“Okay. G’night Dean.” He stared at Dean’s back for a long moment, then looked at the blank t.v. screen. Maybe he’d lucked out at last and would actually be able to get some sleep. For a moment, he contemplated just closing his eyes and forgetting about getting ready for bed first, but the light was on and the damn switch was near the door.

Groaning, he pushed himself off the bed and went to get some shorts on. Pulling them on, he finished running the towel through his hair and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. His eyes were drawn to the red mare on his throat reflected by the mirror, and his heart lurched as he automatically looked out the door at Dean’s still body. Nah, he hadn’t noticed. Finishing quickly, he popped a pill and hit the lights.

On his way back to his bed, he found himself standing next to Dean. He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and looked down at his face mostly hidden by the dark. Tonight could have gone so different. He could be looking for his brother’s body right now, or burying it, or calling his father. His throat constricted as those unwelcome thoughts pushed their way in. Squeezing Dean’s shoulder lightly, he soundlessly pleaded with him not to do this again.

Moving the short distance to his own bed, he laid back and pulled only a sheet over himself.

*

All night long, he was dragged into dreams that came in fits and starts, bits and pieces. He’d lost his brother, that’s why he was wearing a black suit and tie and... but no, Dean was in suit too, smiling and raising a glass of whisky. It was important that Dean didn’t drink... he didn’t know why, but it was important. But trying to talk his brother out of it without having a reason, impossible.

The weight of a body pressed down over him, covering him. A mouth came down hard over his, kissing him until he was breathless. “Jess... Jess,” he whispered, but his hands were stroking a broad, masculine back and there wasn’t any softness in leg that was inserted between his, insistently pressing up against him and pinning him in place.

“Dean?” Hard firm lips moved messily against his. It was Dean. His complaint died on his lips as Dean’s tongue slipped into his mouth, and oh God.... he didn’t know it could feel like this, hadn’t imagined. Their tongues moved in tandem, stroking, tangling, fighting...

“Jess...” yeah, he focused on his leggy blonde. Forced his mind to see her even when the hands that groped him felt far too large, too heavy, too calloused to be hers. He drew in a ragged breath. “Please... please...” He tried to flip them around, because maybe if he was on top, it would all be normal again, it would be his girlfriend under him. Maybe...

Dean’s dreams were not pleasant in the least.

He was back in the pens. Killing those innocent people, their blood covering his hands while the werewolves cheered in amusement at the ‘sport’. Then the dream shifted, and it wasn’t just a random person’s blood on his hands anymore, it was Sam’s. He was staring down at his brother’s unmoving corpse. His throat ripped out. Dead eyes, wide and vacant, staring up at him.

He sat up straight in his bed, a scream of denial choking in his throat. His eyes immediately searching the darkness, and even when they found his brother lying safely in the other bed next to his, his breathing did not slow. His heart still pounding hard and fast in his chest. He was still shaking with fear, even as he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

It wasn’t working.

When he heard the younger man whimper softly in his sleep however, Dean’s expression shifted to concern. Forgetting his own distress for a moment, concentrating on his brother, as he pushed aside his covers and stood. Closing the small distance between their beds. Leaning over the younger man, his hand reaching out just as he heard Sam moan softly. He thought he heard his name…

Dean didn’t know whether it was his own fears, or the desire to ease his brother’s, but a second later he was crawling into the bed and laying down beside Sam. Something of a reversal of their positions when they had been kids, on the occasions they hadn’t shared a bed and the younger boy couldn’t sleep because of bad dreams, and Sammy would come to him for comfort.

He slid his arms around his brother’s waist, trying to offer as well as receive some of that comfort now like they had shared in the past. Pressing up against his brother’s back and burying his nose into the soft hair at the base of the younger man’s neck. Inhaling Sam’s scent and letting out a slow breath as his heart began to return to a more natural rhythm.

All night long, Sam dreamed, and wanted, and tried to repress, and called in turns to Dean and Jess. It was like he'd been on fire the entire time, with no relief. It wasn't a wonder that he woke with a raging hard on that sent one powerful message to his brain… bathroom… relief. He hadn't felt like this since he was a teen… waking with his breath catching and his cock pulsing between his legs.

He started to get up, but something was wrong. There was a weight pressing down on him. His momentary panic dissipated when he cracked his eyes open and found it was Dean. Then a secondary wave of panic washed over him. He had a hard on, and he was stuck under his brother. Could it get worse?

He took a couple of breaths and started to make out where all his parts were and where his brother's were. Hell, Dean was holding him around the waist and had his face buried in his neck. One of his legs was… shit, was that why he had such a bad case of morning wood?

Dean murmured near his ear, and a third wave of panic swept over Sam. No, Dean wasn't drunk… he couldn't be. There was a different explanation for this, one that wouldn't lead to a repeat of what had happened yesterday.

He tried to wiggle out from under Dean. Between the pressure in his groin and his frustration at his inability to get up, he finally shook Dean roughly. "Dean, get off me. What the hell!"

Dean grumbled a muffled curse against his brother’s skin. Between the rough shake and Sam’s rather irritating near shout in his ear, he wasn’t waking up in a very good mood. A shame since he’d been having pretty good dreams. Dreams that involved rough hands, and lots of smooth bare skin. Clutching strong flexing muscles and his brother moaning his name in pleasure over and over in his ear.

The dreams scattered away like dust floating in the sunlight however, despite how he tried to hang onto them. But he realized quickly enough the warmth beside him was real, he was damn comfortable, and it was too damned early to wake up so he stubbornly held onto Sam tighter. Pressing closer to him, rubbing his stubble rough cheek against the smooth skin of the younger man’s neck.

“Shut up. Go back to sleep.” He mumbled, barely coherently, still more than half asleep, into his brother’s throat. The tone of voice he used when he thought his brother was being particularly annoying just because he could. Then as he shifted, trying to get more comfortable so he could go back to sleep, he felt the hard press of his brother’s erection against his hip and he grinned slightly against Sam’s throat.

“I think someone is happy to see me.” He teased.

“Unh,” Sam almost swallowed his tongue when Dean shifted right over his erection. He started to push Dean up, but to no avail. His brother seemed to be burrowing closer and cracking jokes.

“Jerk! Get off me,” he tried to not to squeak and play into Dean’s game and give him and excuse to treat him like a child. “C’mon man, Dean!” He shoved hard, this time rolling toward his side and finally pushing his brother off though their legs were still tangled.

He felt a flush steal over his cheeks but internally protested. Dean was the one who should be embarrassed. “You wanna tell me what you’re doing here? My bed? And ah…. Take your legs back,” he gave Dean a frustrated look and tried to pull his own away.

Dean gave an undignified squawk when his brother shoved him unceremoniously off of him. Almost hard enough to send the elder man rolling out of the other side of the bed if their legs didn’t remain tangled together.

“What the hell, Sam!” he protested. Fully awake now and a little pissed off as he glared at his brother, however the glare was soon replaced by a somewhat confused expression as he looked between the younger man and his own empty bed. Unable to come up with an answer to Sam’s question for a moment before he finally remembered.

“You were having a nightmare. I just wanted…” Dean started but then clamped his mouth shut before he could embarrass himself any further. He just wanted to what? They were adults now, not little kids. Yeah they’d shared a bed only a day ago, but that’s because Dad was here and there were no other options between that and the floor.

His eyes, practically against his will, slid down the length of his brother’s body, and felt more than a little heat rush to his own cheeks, not to mention lower, when he finally really noticed the younger man’s ‘problem’. He forced himself to look away quickly, coughing.

“Whatever. Sorry.” He finally said, shrugging off the moment as he quickly untangled himself from his brother and returned to his own bed. Though he couldn’t help one last jab, more to cover up his own unwelcome reaction to seeing his brother so hard he was tenting the front of his boxers.

“You might want to go take care of that before you poke someone’s eye out.”

Sam huffed and swung his legs off the bed and slightly crouching headed for the bathroom. Any response he gave would just egg Dean on and it wasn’t worth it. In the bathroom, he realized there was no way he was taking care of his problem. How the hell could he with the door open? And how the hell could he close it in light of what happened last night.

Ok.

His brother’s one word promise played in his mind. It sounded sincere, but… yeah, he wasn’t taking any chances. He couldn’t.

Pushing the door slightly closed, he took a leak. By the time he was done washing his face, brushing his teeth and shaving, at least his problem had gone away. The thought that he’d made Dean wait to go in brightened his mood up and he was smiling when he got back in the room and made a sweeping gesture toward the bathroom. “All yours. And if you plan to rub your chin all over me, shave. I have no idea how all your girls put up with it, but I’m not.” He touched the area of his neck where Dean’s stubble and rubbed him raw, then remembered the damn hickey on the other side. Quickly turning away, he pulled a tee shirt on and shrugged a shirt over it to cover up.

Dean smirked a little at his brother’s lack of response. Knowing he’d irritated his brother brightening his mood a bit and he rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow, not really trying to fall asleep again, just dozing. Though his… reactions he was having to his younger brother still confused and bothered the hell out of him, he decided to chalk it up to six months without sex. Certainly the longest he’d been without since he started having sex in the first place.

The werewolf bitch constantly trying to molest him didn’t fucking count. Not in the least.

So he needed to get laid. Badly. Maybe the waitress from the diner last night, she was certainly cute enough an seemed more than a little interested… Why he hadn’t shown more interest in her he chalked up to being pissed at Sam.

Speaking of his brother he wondered how he was going to convince the younger man to leave him alone for a couple hours to take care of his needs when Sam wouldn’t even close the damn bathroom door all the way to piss or jerk off, which Dean could clearly hear the younger man NOT doing, brushing his teeth instead.

When his brother was finally done ‘primping’ in the bathroom Dean rolled his eyes at the younger man’s comment and rolled out of bed. Firmly shutting the door behind him and locking it to make a point as he started to take care of his morning business. Taking his sweet time pissing, brushing his teeth, even shaving. Wondering just how long he could push it before his paranoid brother tried to break the door down.

He frowned as he looked in the mirror. Touching the rather tender bruise on his jaw courtesy of Sam. Though he supposed after last night he couldn’t really blame Sam. For the bruise or being paranoid. If Sam had pulled something like that he probably would have kicked the younger man’s ass a hell of a lot worse.

With a sigh Dean finally unlocked the door and left the bathroom, a rather cocky grin pulling his lips as he walked up to his brother and rubbed his cleanly shaven cheek against the younger man’s.

“Better, Princess?” He teased.

Sam’s heart leaped to his throat at Dean’s sudden movement and what he initially perceived as another attempt to drag him onto the bed. Once he realized his brother was just being himself, he gave Dean a shove. “Great. Soft as a baby’s butt... now get better so you can get laid.”

The quicker the better. He gave him a look, and thought it was returned in kind. What? What had he done? Dean was the one that had molested him, and had him in a death grip this morning. His color rose at the through of how they’d been pretty much knotted together, and he quickly shook off all sorts of uncomfortable feelings by walking to the door. “Let’s eat, I’m starved.”

As they headed toward the diner, he realized that thanks to Dean, he hadn’t eaten at all since the night before. First his errant brother had dragged him to a bar for breakfast, then he’d been too drunk to leave the room, then after just a few bites of dinner he’d run off to ... Blowing his breath out, he refused to go down that path.

As Dean walked inside the diner, Sam touched his shoulder. “I want coffee and scrambled eggs, tomatoes and bacon.” In response to Dean’s questioning look, he raised his cell phone then walked back outside to make his calls.

He retrieved a message from his dad but was unable to reach him. Again. Frowning, he dialed Jessica and they had their usual morning talk.

By the time he walked in and dropped down in the booth, sitting across from Dean, he was in a pretty good mood. The coffee made it just that much the better. “The guy has moved to a new location. Dad’s not giving up,” he said, meeting Dean’s gaze over the rim of his mug as he took a drink. “He said he hasn’t found anything to show the guy doesn’t check out.” Actually, the message had been he hadn’t found anything one way or the other.

He’d known Sam’s reaction would be pissy, that’s pretty much why Dean had done it in the first place, after all. One of his ‘jobs’ as a big brother to annoy his little brother to no end, so the shove had been expected. The younger man going on to say he needed to get better so he could get laid… that had not been as expected, however.

Sam was frowning at him and Dean knew his expression had to be closely mirroring his brother’s, but inside he was panicking a little. Not because he’d been thinking the exact same thing just a few minutes ago, but why he’d been thinking it. Because of the really fucking inappropriate thoughts, dreams… feelings… towards his brother and…

Fucking Christ had Sam somehow picked up on… his brother must think he was a total fucking pervert or something…

Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it.

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Breakfast. Right. Dean had little choice but to follow the younger man out of their motel room, even though his mind was still in chaos. He nodded once in understanding when Sam stopped him and gave him his order and held up his phone. Calling dad. Well, Dean knew it was going to come sooner or later.

With a sigh he continued into the diner, found a table, and gave their order when the waitress came around. She’d already brought the coffee by the time his brother joined him, but not the food yet. Dean gave a half shrug when Sam gave him dad’s update. Taking a drink from his own mug as he tried to think of what to say to the younger man. Should he say anything? Apologize or something… but it wasn’t like he’d actually done anything, though thinking sure as hell was bad enough and…

Maybe it would be better all around to just forget about it. Just keep his fucking eyes and hands to himself and for once take his brother’s advice. Get laid. Awkwardness over.

“So we’re just going to keep hanging out here?” The elder man finally asked. Picking at his napkin, tearing it into little strips, while he avoided looking at Sam.

Sam watched him for a long moment. “Yeah, that’s the plan. Dean.” Even when his brother didn’t look up, he added. “It’s gonna be alright. One day at a time, okay? We grab breakfast, then maybe we go find that lake. Your leg will heal, if you let it.” Yeah, that was a pointed reference. “Oh...”

Here was some news that might get Dean excited. “Dad said something about getting the car out of storage. He was cut off but... road trip?” he grinned, knowing Dean loved nothing and no one better than that car of his.

Dean made a face when his brother affirmed that they were just going to keep hanging around here, laying low, until they heard more back from their father. The elder man couldn’t say he was pleased by the news.

He didn’t do laying low. He’d never liked hanging around in one place for very long, especially if there was no job to do, even under normal circumstances. The idea of being cooped up in that damn motel room until… until either Dad found something or until he was about to turn didn’t sit well with him in the least. It made him feel anxious and trapped. Like a caged animal.

Like he’d felt when he’d been held prisoner for all those months.

Dean blew out a breath through his teeth when Sam tried to reassure him. One day at a time. Right. He’d almost forgotten about his brother’s promise to take him to the lake. Dean wasn’t exactly a nature kind of guy, but it was at least outside, and Sam had promised to take him to a real bar too. Where there’d be plenty of booze and chicks, and maybe he could take care of more than one problem.

The elder man finally looked up when Sam mentioned his car. He’d almost forgotten about it with everything else there was to worry about. He didn’t remember much about his actual abduction but it did lighten his mood a bit to hear that his ‘baby’ was all right. That dad had found it and taken care of it for him. But it was what else Sam said that made the first real flicker of hope light up his eyes.

Road trip… Did that mean that Sam was really planning on sticking around for a while? Not just because of the whole werewolf thing, because he felt guilty or something, but… Just the two of them on the road together…

“Seriously?”

Tipping his head to the side in a ‘why not’ motion, Sam searched his brother’s face. There was a message there that he wasn’t getting, but he didn’t even know what question to ask, so he just gave a small smile and was relieved when the waitress brought their food.

For probably the first time ever, his fork was in the food and then in his mouth faster than Dean’s. “Mmm, this is good.” It could have tasted like saw dust for all he would have noticed. “And don’t go eyeing my bacon, you’re so not getting it today.”

They ate in silence for another few minutes, Sam mostly shoveling food into his mouth and getting it down as fast as he could. Finally, when the hunger pangs receded, he spoke. “That ah... werewolf chick, Cassandra. Did she just single you out or was she in heat for all the guys?” He knew Dean just wanted to forget about his time with the werewolves, but he needed information, even if he had to drag it out of Dean in little dribs and drabs.

He tapped his brother's knee with his own under the table. "Just pretend its a story you're telling me, like you used to." He'd caught on to the fact that the so called scary campfire stories Dean used to tell him were true and that they were based on things Dean had done and seen. "Detach yourself, if you can." Seeing an angry light flash in his brother's eyes, he lifted his hand. "I know... I know I'm asking for a lot."

Dean knew his return smile must be a little goofy but he couldn’t really help it. Then when the waitress brought their food he couldn’t help laughing outright when the younger man began shoveling food into his face almost before she’d managed to put the plate down.

He dug into his own meal at an only slightly slower pace. Feeling more relaxed now than he’d felt all morning. Even playfully trying to steal strips of bacon off of his brother’s plate more to be annoying than because he really wanted them. Letting Sam get away with stealing sausage off his plate in return.

The elder man was all but done with his own meal, sitting back and enjoying his coffee, deciding it was pretty damn good coffee after all, when Sam asked him about the werewolves… Cassandra… and Dean’s good mood faded almost instantly. His easy smile replaced by a frown. Giving away to anger and he forced himself to look out the window instead of his brother lest he lose his temper like he had last night.

He was almost more irritated by the younger man’s psycho babble, trying to get him to talk, than the question itself. Why the hell did Sam keep asking him about the werewolves? Sure, Dean knew plenty about them now, but none of it was going to help his brother find a damn cure or whatever, because none existed. So why the fuck did he keep bringing it up…

“If I tell you now, you don’t get to bring it up again later.” Dean finally said, not really waiting for his brother to agree to his ‘terms’. Rather just getting it over with.

“Cassandra is the alpha female of the pack. All the others do what she says, without question. She’s the oldest, strongest, of the pack and the rest are pretty much afraid of her. She would fuck any of the men she wanted, but she showed special interest in me after… I was the last one left in the pens.” He said without emotion. ‘Detaching’ himself, as Sam had suggested. Though he didn’t look at the younger man as he spoke.

“That’s how they decide who’s ‘worthy’ enough to become a part of the pack, but the bitch wanted more than that from me. She was looking for a mate too, and decided I was it. She pretty much lost interest with the other men after that. Lucky me. Unfortunately she didn’t like taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

Sam was sorry to see the change in Dean’s mood, but he was more than willing to get this over in one go, like his brother seemed to want to do now. He listened carefully, nodding, and scrutinizing Dean’s profile.

“You said ‘no.’” He repeated, “and she was after you for a long time. Was she... unattractive, or was it just the whole werewolf thing. I mean...” No, he didn’t think for one minute that Dean would pimp himself out to a ‘thing’ but, there was something else he did expect. He rubbed the back of his neck, “you’ve lured demons before, made them think you were interested.”

In his mind, he could see Dean trying it on Cassandra, agreeing and then taking advantage when she might not expect it. His eyes widened. “Dean. Dean... did she... I mean where she bit you...” he swallowed, not wanting to put the rest of his question into words.

Unattractive? Werewolf ‘thing’?

His brother said it like he’d just told him he’d turned down some kind of blind date and Dean couldn’t help turning to look at the younger man. His brows raised, wearing a look like he thought his brother had lost his mind a little, as Sam struggled to clarify his question… if it could be called that.

The elder man wasn’t even sure exactly what his brother was asking him. Was Sam actually asking him why he’d told the bitch ‘no’? Did Sam really think he was that much of a slut or something? Ok, fine, maybe he had low standards. But not that fucking low. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much, but it really did.

Before he could even think how to answer that question, Sam asked him another, and if he thought he couldn’t feel even more uncomfortable he was wrong. He made a face before glancing away from his brother, running his hand through his hair.

“Are you asking me if she raped me?” Dean asked softly, looking back to the younger man and seeing the confirmation in his brother’s eyes even though Sam didn’t say a word, he shook his head. Looking down at his plate, moving around the leftover eggs with his fork to avoid looking in Sam’s eyes.

“No. She didn’t. She could have if she wanted to. She had every chance to, but she didn’t. She didn’t want that. She wanted me to want her… and she would have known if I was faking it. She could smell it.” Dean said, looking up at his brother again, his nostrils flaring a little unconsciously. Like he was testing his brother’s scent.

It was strange, how pleased Sam was that Dean hadn’t satisfied her. He was also relieved it hadn’t been rape, but really... the way she’d bitten him, that was violation enough. Sam understood that, even as he nodded, and touched Dean’s shoulder across the table.

These weren’t werewolves who couldn’t help themselves and who were just following their nature. The ones that had his brother were organized and sadistic, and they didn’t deserve to live.

“I wish...”he swallowed, because thoughts like this belonged in the heads of his brother and dad, but there they were. “I wish she and all the others had been there... I wish dad and I had blown their fucking brains out. I wish we could have let you pull the trigger.” He ground out each word, thinking one day it might come to that... and maybe Dean would get a piece of himself back from those bastards.

Dean gave his brother a tight smile, feeling strangely comforted by Sam’s words. Only in their fucked up family, seriously. But he nodded in understanding.

After the waitress brought their check and Sam paid they left the diner and headed for the lake in the woods as the younger man promised. They walked mostly in silence, but it was a much more relaxed silence then they’d shared in… hell… days. Since even before Dad left.

The lake was actually a little bit bigger than Dean had been expecting. Big enough to have its own dock, which they sat on for a little while. Staring out over the still surface that could have been a glass mirror it was so calm.

During the summer this lake was probably a pretty popular fishing and swimming spot. November in Washington it was pretty much deserted this time of year though, and Dean had to admit fairly peaceful. He wasn’t a nature kind of guy, but he could definitely see him and Sam coming back, maybe with a case of beer, sitting on the dock and just chatting and relaxing.

It definitely wouldn’t be a bad way to spend the days…

After a little while they headed back to the motel, and when they got back Dean decided to lay down. The events of last night and the extra walk to the lake this morning tiring him out more than he realized, reminding him that he was actually still recovering and not nearly a hundred percent yet. It wasn’t long before he dozed off, the TV remote still held loosely in his hand.

God their lives were like roller coasters. One minute he was sure he was losing his brother, the next, it was like Dean didn’t have a suicidal thought. One minute they were peacefully eating breakfast, the next tensions flew high because he needed answers about things Dean didn’t want to think about... and then hours later, look at them... you’d think none of the events of the past six months had happened, and Dean was sleeping like a baby.

Sam rubbed his eyes and put the lap top away. He pulled his wallet out and counted, then looked over at Dean. How the hell was he supposed to go out and take care of some business when he couldn’t risk leaving Dean to his own devices? Not after last night. Not even after his semi-promise, and all the good behavior he’d been exhibiting.

Reaching a decision, one that he didn’t like because of the other dangers it posed, he nevertheless went through with it. Rummaging through their stuff, he returned to Dean’s bed with a pair of sturdy cuffs. Very carefully, he put a bracelet around Dean’s hand, trying not to make noise and holding his breath. Tension flowed through him not only because he didn’t want to get caught, but he remembered what happened the last time he’d leaned over Dean when his brother was sleeping.

Shrugging off the strange feelings passing through him at the memory, he managed to cuff Dean to the rails of the headboard. Just one wrist... that was enough. He made sure there was nothing around for Dean to use, no sharp instruments, nothing but the remote control near him, and then he left.

God – don’t let anything happen. Don’t let something enter the room. But the risk of Dean doing harm to himself was greater, he thought. Plus he’d be back fast... Dean might never know...

He was running. Through the dark woods, the night pitch black save for the huge silver orb of the moon directly overhead. Stumbling over roots and loose patches of wet leaves and rocks. Tree limbs like black skeletal claws swiping at him as he ran, clawing at his bare arms. Icy air filling his lungs, his breath coming out in fast, desperate, pants forming into white clouds of mist before it dissipated. His heart thundering almost loud enough to drown out the screams he could hear coming from in front of him.

His brother's screams…

Loud, bloodcurdling, screams. Then something else. Vicious growling. Howling. His brother was dying. Something had Sam. Sam… Sammy… No… no…

The screams stopped as soon as he broke through the edge of a clearing. The moonlight lighting up the forest here almost as well as daylight, but still washing out all the color. All the color except red. Blood. Everywhere. His brother lying still and unmoving in the center of the clearing. In the center of the blood. His flesh in shreds. His entrails spilling out of him. A figure crouched beside him, covered in his brother's blood.

Even before the figure turned, he knew. Even before he saw his own face. Bright golden eyes flashing in the silver moonlight. The taste of Sam's blood heavy in his own mouth.

*

Dean sat up sharply in the bed. Or at least he tried to. Falling back abruptly to the bed as his wrist jerked against the metal cuff around his wrist. The terror from his dream, morphing into confusion, then anger, and then back to fear. All boiling down to one thought.

What the fuck!

"Sam!" He yelled, even as his eyes darted desperately around the room, he already knew his brother wasn't here. WHAT THE FUCK! Sam had NOT just gone and left him here alone handcuffed to his bed… but apparently his brother had.

"God damn it, Sam!" The elder man growled, yanking furiously at the handcuffs roughly. Not caring how the unforgiving metal cuff bit into his wrist. The feeling of being trapped bleeding away rational thought, leaving him desperate and not thinking clearly. Having no idea where his brother was only making the panic he felt worse. Making him feel like a trapped animal willing to chew off its own leg rather than remain trapped.

He yanked even harder on the handcuffs. Twisting around desperately. Trying to find something, anything, he might be able to use to get free. His bound wrist bruised and bleeding a little by the time he heard a car pull up right outside their motel room and he finally stilled. His heart pounding and his breath coming hard and fast as he listened. Waiting. Hearing the car door open.

Sam got out of the car and walked around the back. “Can I help you carry these? It’s the least I can do.”

The brunette smiled and nodded. “Thanks, it’ll save me a trip back.” They both grabbed some of the groceries she’d brought, and started toward the motel. “If you’re into hiking, I know this great trail...”

“It’s beautiful out here,” he followed her a few doors down from their room. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime. Seriously.”

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, gave her the bags and nodded. “Later.”

“Yeah... later.”

Smiling, he headed to their room, hoping against hope Dean was still asleep. Working his key, he opened the door slowly and stopped mid stride at the beyond-pissed-off expression Dean was wearing. “I had to.” He spread his hands out and dropped them, tensely waiting for the angry rush of words.

Dean heard his brother’s voice, though not much of his actual words, through the door. His ears weren’t that good now, unfortunately. But they were good enough to hear the soft female voice that answered Sam, and the elder man saw red.

It was bad enough that his brother had fucking handcuffed him to his bed, but the fact that Sam had handcuffed him so he could go off with some… chick…

Dean laid there. Absolutely fuming, and every second it took for Sam to return to their room only making him more pissed off if it were possible. The expression on his face practically murderous by the time the younger man finally opened the door.

“Unlock. Me. Now.” Dean replied slowly and deliberately. His voice almost eerily calm, but promising there would be hell to pay if Sam didn’t obey him right the fuck now.