Sam felt the blood drain from his face the instant his brother betrayed him. Years of getting each others’ backs, protecting each others’ secrets, covering up the things their father might not understand had trained him to believe that’s how it would always be. This was like a slap in his face. Worse.

His eyes glittered, his jaw tensing to breaking point as he stared at his brother. Dean knew he hadn’t wanted to be out there that night. He’d gone out because Dean was bouncing off the damned walls. He’d thought it was a way to stop him from trying to kill himself, he’d promised an outing after they’d both almost lost their lives on that bridge. And the drinking that had him off his game… for Dean.

And now it was all Sam’s fault. One look at his father’s face was enough for him to know there was no way… no way to explain how he had felt he had no other choice but to go against his dad’s instructions and go to a bar. His dad hadn’t been there on the bridge. Hadn’t looked down into Dean’s face, hadn’t struggled against him, and hadn’t almost lost him. Nah, he wouldn’t get it at all.

And Sam wouldn’t tell him. Brothers didn’t do that to each other. At least this brother didn’t.

Tearing his distinctly hostile gaze away from Dean, he looked at his dad for a minute, then down at his feet. He gave an abbreviated version of the story. They’d gone to get a drink. He’d been ambushed in the parking lot. They’d wanted Dean to join the pack. Dean had pulled his weapon, and they’d gotten out of the mess. Stolen a car… he trailed of, though he remembered only too well the drunken kisses. Being forced against the door so hard it hurt. The slamming of the door, shutting out the world.

Blinking away the memories, he swallowed. “That has nothing to do with this. We all know there’s danger from all sides, hunters, werewolves… it’s something we live with every day.” He’d walked away from it… this life, but he was in it again, neck deep. That was how it was. “We have a problem to solve, and sitting around paralyzed because something might happen to one of us... that’s not gonna help.” Lifting his chin, he gave Dean a ‘back off’ look and squared his shoulders, ready to battle his dad if necessary.

The way Sam was looking at him, seeing the hurt he’d caused written so clearly on the younger man’s face, made Dean feel like his heart was being ripped out of his chest, and it was all his god damned fault. He hadn’t meant to say it, really had hadn’t. He hadn’t meant to hurt Sam, fuck, that was the last thing he ever wanted. It had just come out, without thinking…

The possibility of Sam getting hurt, and no one there to back him up was terrifying enough. But just the thought of his brother leaving without him… leaving him behind, even for a few days, was enough to drive him insane. He couldn’t stand it. Sam couldn’t leave him. He just couldn’t. Dean felt like he would do anything to stop him. Anything…

Even when the last thing he’d ever tried to do was to get his brother in trouble with their father. Hell, Dean usually went out of his way to keep Sam from being blamed for anything in John’s eyes, since the older man for some reason did that enough himself. And now their father was glaring at Sam, and the last look his brother gave him before looking away twisted his heart just a little more painfully.

He listened as Sam told the shortened version of how the werewolves had found them. Of course leaving out the part Dean had played leading his brother to make that choice. For him. To make him happy… and he’d just thrown it back in his brother’s teeth.

I’m sorry… Dean wanted to beg his brother’s forgiveness. Kiss him, hold him. He’d get on his knees if he had to, but he could hardly do any of those things with their father standing right here in the room.

Dean could almost feel their father gearing up to lay into the younger man and Dean turned to face the older man. Practically putting himself in between his father and brother before he could begin.

“What happened wasn’t Sam’s fault, it was mine. You want to be pissed off at someone, be pissed off at me. I was going crazy… after everything… I couldn’t handle it. We had an argument… and I tried to jump off a bridge. I would have gone splat if it weren’t for Sam.” Dean said, wincing a little at the look of pain mixed with horror that crossed his Dad’s face listening to him talk so carelessly about killing himself, but he continued. “Sam took me to the bar the next day, trying to help me feel human again, trying to help me stay sane.”

Dean glanced back at his brother briefly.

“He does keep me sane…” He said softly before looking back at his father. “You want me to lay low? I will. You want Sam to go? Fine. But I’m going with my brother, and you can’t stop me.”

For a long time John Winchester could only stare at his son’s, stunned speechless. He’d honestly thought that trying to separate the two young men would have been best for Dean. Thinking, foolishly apparently, that he could handle his older son better than his brother could. The last few minutes had just proved him dead wrong. The mere suggestion had unbalanced Dean. What if he tried to force Dean to stay here without Sam and it drove him to try to kill himself again? What if he couldn’t stop his son this time? He looked between Dean and Sam a moment more before he finally dry scrubbed his face with his hand and sighed heavily.

“As soon as my truck is repaired, I’m going to go to Los Alamos. You two will stay here and keep looking for leads.” John said in a way that Dean knew meant there would be absolutely no further arguments or their dad would start literally cracking heads. With that, their father grabbed up his papers from the table and phone, and went back over to his bed. Dean could only assume he was now forwarding Conall’s picture to everyone he already had looking for the man and continuing checking with his other contacts.

Effectively ending the discussion.

Dean knew there was no way this discussion was over. Just postponed. He also knew he was not looking forward to when it would be picked up again.

Sam felt his dad’s temperature rising and prepared himself for a shouting match. Whatever part of the admissions his dad latched onto and reamed him for, he wasn’t sure what the hell he could say in his own defense. Yeah, he’d put his brother in danger. Yeah, he’d put himself in danger, been drunk, and got caught. What the fuck was he supposed to say in his defense?

Sam blinked in surprise when Dean moved in front of him, as if to protect him from their dad. Which… was ridiculous, because Dean usually sided with dad or told them both to knock it off.

Then Dean was spilling the rest of the story, and Sam had no idea why. As if telling their old man why they were in the bar in the first place made anything better. Sure, it might mean their dad would be less angry with him for taking Dean there, but it changed nothing… he’d been caught by godamned werewolves. That had been Dean’s point, and it had been made too well. It was probably engrained in his dad’s mind forever.

When his brother paused to look over at him, Sam refused to meet his eyes. He was too angry. Too hurt. And he couldn’t even vent freely, because he was afraid of what he might say. How he might slip. Maybe say something that would clue his dad into what had been going on. Or say something that set Dean off more. It was like walking a fucking line, and right now, Sam couldn’t take it.

When his dad laid down his order, Sam’s nostrils flared. A half hour ago, the decision would have thrilled him. Would have thrilled Dean too. Now, it just meant his dad saw him exactly how Dean had painted him. Just confirmed his old perceptions.

Feeling his eyes stinging, Sam crossed the room and got his jacket off the bed. Without another word, he stalked to the door and was out of it, slamming it behind him, clearly signaling he did not want company. Rubbing his forehead for a moment, he looked across the parking lot and headed for the diner.

The motel room door slammed and Sam was gone.

Again.

Just like his brother had stormed out last night. Just like that night on the bridge when Sam had stormed away from him after their argument in the diner. Just like years ago when the younger man had left, their family, the hunt… him, behind…

He was becoming all too familiar with the crushing feeling of despair that slammed into him every time Sam slammed the door. Why didn’t it get any easier every time it happened then?

Dean stood, practically rooted in place, staring at the door for a long time before he finally looked at his father. The older man steadfastly ignoring him, ignoring the fact that Sam was gone… yeah… all too familiar.

Well. Fuck that.

As Dean grabbed his own coat and headed for the door his father finally looked up from what he was doing. He could feel the elder man’s stare boring holes into his back but he didn’t care. It wasn’t until he actually opened the door that John finally spoke up.

“Dean! Where are you going?” There might have been a hint of worry in his father’s demanding tone, but the younger man ignored it. He wasn’t going to go off himself if that’s what the older man was worried about, and he wasn’t going to let his father stop him either.

“I’m going after my brother.” Dean answered simply before he walked out, tuning out any protest the older hunter might have made.

Dean saw the younger man enter the diner, and he quickly jogged across the parking lot after him. Yeah, his brother had made it pretty clear he didn’t want to be followed, well tough. Sam could be pissed off at him all he wanted. He could yell at him. Hit him. Whatever. But he was tired of Sam walking out on him, god damn it! He wasn’t going to let his brother walk away from him again.

He was never going to be able to prove himself to them, not ever. Why did he even bother to try? Nothing was good enough. Sammy can’t …fill in the blank. All his life, that’s what he got from them. His hunting skills weren’t good enough, his shooting not as good as Dean. Doesn’t have the fight in him. That’s all he ever heard, even when they were wrong.

Then the things he was really good at, those didn’t count. He was shaking his head, and wondering if maybe he should have gone for a run instead, when he heard the door and just knew who it was. Every muscle in his body tensed. He didn’t want to see him, or talk to him. Not know.

Deliberately, he opted for counter seating and picked up a paper. “Just a coffee, please,” he asked the waitress, flipping the paper open and using it as a shield. Maybe he’d be lucky, maybe Dean would take the hint and give him some room.

Dean’s mouth flattened into a thin line as he watched from the doorway as his brother sat down at the counter and picked up a newspaper. Though Sam hadn’t looked in his direction he was quite certain that the younger man was ignoring him on purpose. It simultaneously made that crushing feeling of hurt all the worse as well as igniting that predatory temper he was becoming all too familiar with now as well.

He pushed both feelings down forcibly as he went over to sit in the chair beside his brother. Though the younger man stubbornly didn’t look up from the damn newspaper, making the elder man’s jaw twitch in irritation, but he controlled his temper. When the waitress returned with Sam’s coffee asking him what he wanted he ordered the same but said nothing else. Waiting for his brother to acknowledge him.

Waiting because he was not going to cause a scene in the middle of a crowded diner. He wasn’t that stupid. Though if Sam kept on ignoring him for too long he might just drag the younger man outside and have it out with him in the parking lot if he needed to. He really, really, hoped that Sam wouldn’t push him to that, however.

He just wanted to talk to Sam, damn it. Hell, isn’t that what his brother was always trying to get him to do these days? Talk?

“So what now? You’re going to give me the whole silent treatment?”

He wasn’t gonna go away. He wasn’t. Sam knew it the instant Dean ordered a cup of coffee. His fingers tightened around the paper and he was in danger of tearing it as he turned the page.

The first words out of his brother’s mouth needled him. Like he was the one in the wrong here, like he was being unreasonable, and like Dean had the right to expect something different. “No Dean, we’re gonna hold hands and sing Kumbaya and pretend like everything’s great. What do you think?” He looked at him briefly over his paper, then back down at the words swimming in front of his face.

Teeth gritted, tension flowing through him, he forced himself to read and re-read until a single paragraph made sense. Then the waitress came back with the sugar, and he was forced to put the paper down as he stirred some into his coffee.

“So what now, you don’t trust me to walk twenty feet to get coffee? Cause you know, I’m the idiot brother who walks around with my eyes closed and who knows ... I might get captured by...” he lowered his voice, “little people from Mars.” Damn him, damn him for making him feel like this. “Just... just go away, Dean.” He dry scrubbed his face. “I don’t need a fucking body guard, and I sure as hell don’t need any extra help disappointing dad.”

Just thinking about the look on his father’s face when Dean had baldly told him about the werewolf capture had Sam both cringing and angry.

Dean grit his teeth. His hands clenching into fists in front of him on the counter, and he forced himself to take a few deep breaths to keep from snapping back at his brother and maybe saying something he would regret. Again.

He cringed a little at Sam’s angry words, even as they also made his temper rise just a little more. Reminding himself that Sam had every reason to be pissed off at him didn’t really help though. Because when it came down to it, he had every reason to be pissed off too. If Sam had just argued with their dad a little about going, about leaving him behind…

When his brother went on to order him to ‘go away’ that was it. Dean forgot about the waitresses and the other patrons as he reached over and grabbed the younger man by the front of his shirt. Spinning Sam around on his stool and forcing his brother to look at him, damn it. Dean was fuming, but he kept it under control. Barely. His voice not exactly calm but at least he wasn’t shouting in his brother’s face.

“You know god damn well that’s not what I think and fuck Dad! When the hell have you ever cared about what Dad thought anyway? This isn’t about him, this is about us.” Dean growled before forcing himself to lower his voice. Trying to regain control over his volatile emotions.

“Fine, you don’t need me, but I need you, god damn it. I wasn’t kidding when I said you keep me sane. So I said something stupid to keep you from leaving me, well I’m sorry. But why don’t you tell me why the fuck are you always so ready to leave me behind!”

Dean moved so fast, Sam had no time to react at all before he was forcibly turned around and drawn close. His heart slammed into his chest, his face flushed. “Dean, let...”

What the hell? Did he really think he didn’t care what his father thought? His heated response died on his lips though, when Dean shifted the focus to them. He didn’t get it, but seeing Dean start to get worked up, he didn’t argue, didn’t fight him off, and just listened.

I need you, god damn it. His brother’s words reverberated over and over in his head. Dean would never say anything like that, not ever. Not unless he was really pushed, cornered, desperate.

The accusation, though unwarranted, had Sam wincing. He shook his head no, and was about to answer, when the waitress came over and put her hand on his arm.

“Are you alright, honey?”

He licked his lips. “Fine.”

“Are you sure?” She was looking at Dean’s hand still grabbing Sam’s shirt.

He nodded, “it’s fine. My brother.” As soon as she moved away, Sam put his hand over Dean’s, holding it even as he made it seem as if he was pulling his hand off.

“I wasn’t trying to leave you anywhere, Dean. I suggested all of us go. Then he had a good point about the hunters. You think I want anything to happen to you? You’ve been through enough.” When Dean’s hand finally dropped away, he took a deep breath. “What I want is to help you. Find that guy, find out what he knows... get him back here. It would have been a few days max.”

Feeling Dean’s agitation, he gripped his arm. “I get it now. You need me, I’m staying. Alright? I’m not going anywhere.” He could swallow his hurt, he could pretend the words hadn’t mattered. This was more important... keeping Dean on an even keel, because he couldn’t go through what he had twice already, he couldn’t let Dean get so far off kilter he might try to end his life again. “I’m right here.”

Dean glared hard at the waitress who interrupted him. Especially when she put a hand on his brother. Earning a rather nasty look from the woman in return but he didn’t really give a damn. Sam’s hand covering his own silenced the rather rude dismissal that had been building in his throat and forced his attention back to his brother.

Letting Sam tug his hand away from his shirt, looking down at his brother’s hand holding his, listening, before looking back up into the younger man’s eyes.

No, he knew that Sam didn’t want anything else to happen to him. He knew his brother was worried about him, with good god damn reason to be. Yeah, maybe their dad did have a point about other hunters but…

All Dean could think about was Sam walking out on him again. Not knowing what was happening. Anything could happen to his brother, he could be hurt or worse, and he wouldn’t be there to help. To stop it. He wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t know for days, and by then it could be too late…

Yeah, he knew he was overreacting. He knew it. But he couldn’t stop it. Just like he couldn’t stop a lot of things. It was just… instinct… to protect what was his.

Dean let out a breath when Sam said he understood, though he wasn’t really sure how his brother could understand it when he could barely understand it himself. Dean had no illusions that he was out of the doghouse completely, but at least Sam didn’t seem quite so mad anymore.

He wanted to pull Sam close. Kiss him, maybe just to prove that they were still ok, but he couldn’t really do that now considering the younger man had blurted out to the waitress that they were brothers. He probably shouldn’t even lean forward and rest his forehead against his brother’s shoulder, but he did anyway. Sighing again, trying to release the tension that had been vibrating through him ever since Dad had suggested that Sam go off on his own.

Damn Dad.

“Sorry… about the…” Maybe he shouldn’t even mention how he’d blurted out to their father about the werewolf thing. He didn’t really want to remind his brother why he should be pissed off at him right now. Though Dean did want to make amends and maybe lighten the mood a little so he added, “You could tell Dad about the whole naked statue in his truck thing… if you wanted…?”

Sam’s breath caught when Dean leaned against him. He started to look down, and felt the gazes of the waitress and others. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he gave a weak smile, though he didn’t let go of Dean’s arm and just left his hand resting there.

Dean’s joke drew a half-hearted laugh from him. “Yeah, I could,” he said cocking his head slightly.

He was silent for a while, thinking about how strange it was for Dean to be leaning on him like this. They’d come out of some pretty damned hair raising situations in the past, and it was always Sam who’d tried to hug him or physically demonstrate he was glad they or Dean had survived. Even then, his brother often got stiff or shooed or shoved him off.

“You alright?” He started to lift Dean up, his gaze locking with his brother’s. “Coffee’s getting cold.”

Dean allowed Sam to push him away, even though he was reluctant to go. Noticing the flush on his brother’s cheeks made a bit of warmth fill his own as well. Not that he really gave a damn about what other people thought right now. Just because he knew this kind of touchy feely wasn’t normally his thing.

Another wolf thing? Or was it just because they were fucking now?

He didn’t have anything to go by really. He’d never really had more than one night stands, he didn’t do girlfriends, and having a… lover… was new to him.

Dean coughed a little self consciously as he turned away from Sam’s much too searching gaze. Back to the counter and taking a drink of his coffee.

“We good?” He tried to ask as casually as possible.

“Sure.” Realizing that he sounded flip, he shook his head and added, “we’re good.” He wasn’t lying. It wasn’t as if he would have kept a grudge for days over what happened. But he wasn’t good at flipping a switch and changing moods just like that either.

Pulling his cup over, he took a sip and set it back down. His hands stayed curled around the mug as he spoke. “You know, while dad’s gone, you and I can work the Joe Windtalker angle. It’ll give us something to do, be productive.” And maybe if they got somewhere, that look in dad’s eye might soften. Nah, probably not. He really should stop trying to fight uphill battles.

His mouth had flattened into a thin line. He took a deep breath, and tried to be more positive. “Maybe you could get us invited to another pow wow. I mean if that’s what it takes for us to get information out of him...” Course the instant that left his mouth, he knew it was a bad idea. They'd get drunk, and then it would be that bar scene with the getting caught by the werewolves all over again. Or if not werewolves, with their luck, something else would get them.

Rubbing his neck, he looked at Dean. "You think this guy Connall... you think it'll pan out?" He trusted his brother's instincts, even if it wasn't a two way street.

Dean glanced at his brother briefly, before looking back down at his own cup of coffee like it had all the answers to the universe, all he had to do was wait for them to float to the top. Yeah right, if it were only that easy.

He nodded to the younger man’s suggestion that they should keep trying to get in touch with Joe, there wouldn’t be much else they could do after all. Stuck here while John was off searching for Conall again.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Their dad would probably kill them if they actually left to go to a pow wow, though the idea still made a smile form on Dean’s face. One last hurrah before the end? He couldn’t really think of anything better.

At his brother’s last question however the smile slipped from his face, and he didn’t answer the younger man for a long time. Finally giving a half hearted shrug before taking another sip from his coffee before answering.

“If he’s still alive I think Dad will find him.” He answered with all honesty. Dean had no doubt that their father was stubborn enough to tear apart the whole world to find this guy if he wanted to. The problem was, Dean wasn’t all that sure that it was worth it, even if they did find this guy Conall. It didn’t mean that he could, or would, be able to help him.

“Either way, I don’t think it’s gonna be before the next full moon though…” Dean’s voice lowered as he finally voiced his greatest fear.

Sam’s head snapped toward Dean and he was about to tell him not to be so negative, but the look on his face... in his eyes... it stopped Sam’s tirade cold. Fear wasn’t something Dean often revealed. So far he’d shown anger and self revulsion, but this was the first time that he’d seen a flash of pure alarm in his eyes.

“He’s gonna find him, Dean. We’ve done things with no time to spare, this might be one of them.” Deep down, he knew Dean was right, there was a good chance they’d go through at least one full moon cycle. If that happened, Dean’s bones would bend and reshape, push if flesh around until he looked inhuman. His fingers would turn to claws, he’d be a fierce beast.

Now Sam was scaring himself. He didn’t want Dean to go through this. “Dammit, we’re gonna stop this.” He waved the waitress over. “Three coffees to go.”

When she moved away he scrubbed his face. They had to do something. “Dean. Even if... just want you to know, I’ll be right there with you. You won’t be alone. Not a single minute.”

As they got closer to a full moon, they’d have to think of ways to restrain his brother. A cage, or chains. Just flashing back to how he’d been kept in that mansion, tied down like an animal, and then Dean’s reaction that day he’d cuffed him to the bed, it made Sam nauseous. “You got that, Dean? Not a minute,” he put his hand on Dean’s far shoulder, gripping him tight as he made the promise.

Dean managed a strained smile, his gaze moving from his brother’s hand on his shoulder to Sam’s face. Wishing he could take comfort in his brother’s reassurances, his confidence, but they both knew the truth and soon there would be no more denying it. Soon he would turn into a bloodthirsty monster. Soon he would become what they hunted. Soon he would have to be restrained to keep from killing innocent people, tearing them to shreds, ripping out their hearts… and if he got free…

How could he tell his brother his reassurance that he would be there, every second, was what Dean feared most? His brother watching him change like that, seeing what he would become, and if something horrible happened… it would be his brother he would try to kill first. If Sam didn’t put him down it would be his brother’s blood on his hands he would wake to when the sun rose.

Maybe he should have let Sam go looking for Conell instead of their father. In the end he knew their dad would pull the trigger if he had to. His father would never let him kill either of them, knowing he’d never survive the guilt anyway. But Sam…

The waitress returned with the coffees, still giving Dean dirty looks, and he had to resist the urge to flip her off before she walked away again.

“I guess we better get back.” Dean said, giving his brother a more genuine smile and nod of thanks, shoving aside all other thoughts and worries for now because there was nothing he could do about them anyway. Sooner or later he’d have to face these fears again, he knew, but for now he’d rather it be later than sooner.

He picked up two of the coffees, letting Sam take the third, as he stood up to head back to the motel room and their father.

Watching the expressions chasing over his brother’s tense face, Sam tensed too. He knew what was going through his brother’s mind, just knew. He didn’t blame him. If their roles had been reversed, he might worry for Dean too. But he’d trust Dean. Know that Dean wouldn’t do anything stupid to get himself killed. Sam could be careful too. If his brother were restrained the right way, there was no reason he’d have to leave him. None.

It wasn’t worth arguing over. It was an argument he’d never win anyway.

Pretending to accept Dean’s smile, he silently got up. He paid the bill, and left the waitress a good tip. They’d be back here, and anything he could do to counteract Dean’s caustic behavior would be good.

Walking ahead of Dean, he opened the door for him, and headed across the parking lot toward their room. He was all business, gung ho about finding answers, doing it quickly, and efficiently, up until they got to their room. Then he unlocked the door and let Dean go in, hesitating at the threshold as he looked at his dad.

His father barely looked up, and had taken Sam’s place at the desk. Sam didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved that his dad couldn’t look at him. He tried his damnedest to stop thinking about what the elder Winchester was thinking. By now, he’d probably forgotten all about the picture Sam had located, ‘cause yeah, one “oh shit” wiped out a thousand “attaboys” in their family, and getting caught by werewolves was high on the "oh shit" list.

Stealing only a glance at Dean, he went and got his lap top from next to the pad their dad was writing on, and quickly moved away. It was gonna be a long night. Maybe he could say he wasn’t hungry when dad and Dean decided they wanted to eat. Yeah, that would be a couple hours from now.

Letting out a deep sigh and dry scrubbing his face, he headed for the bed and sat back against the pillows. Head tilted back against the headboard, he closed his eyes and tried to think of what stones he’d yet to turn over. There had to be something. If not Connall, some other solution… there had to be. He just had to find it.