Sam blinked his eyes sleepily when the sound of his phone ringing penetrated his exhausted haze. He laid there a moment, feeling Dean's arms holding him tightly, even in sleep. He didn't want to leave Dean's arms and then he felt his heart drop into his stomach. That was Jim calling. And if didn't get to the phone, Jim was going to freak.

Sam carefully disentangled himself from Dean's warm embrace, pausing to stare a moment at the chains, frowning. Nothing he could about it, not yet, he told himself. Dean mumbled his complaint and reached out for Sam. "Shh. I'm right here. Go back to sleep," Sam soothed.

He looked down at himself and back at Dean. They were both a fucking mess. Literally. And it was cold in the basement, the propane heater long since dry of fuel. Slowly he pushed himself up. Every movement he made he discovered a new ache. He was going to feel Dean for a good few days, that was for certain. Then he smiled a little. It was worth it and he would do it again without regret. Hell, he wanted to do it again next chance he got.

He brushed his lips lightly over Dean's, unsurprised to find Dean respond, but he stepped away before Dean could draw him back down into his arms. He wanted to slide back in to that safe embrace, but he couldn't. Reality had to be faced, at least for a little while. He covered Dean over with the blanket before he limped over to where his phone sat on the chair. It had already gone to voice mail. He opened his phone. Yeah, it had been Jim. He speed dialed the elder hunter. It hardly rung once and Jim was on the other end.

"Sam? Sam, are you okay?" Jim asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, Jim," Sam said through a yawn. "I was sleeping. Sorry. Took me a minute to get to the phone. You on your way over?"

"Yes. Bobby said you wanted me to call first."

"I'm starved. Can you stop and get me a steak with all the fixings? And a lot of coffee?"

Jim was silent a minute before he finally answered. "Yes. I'll stop and get it. Medium?"

"Yeah. Get one for Dean too. And maybe get some soup if they have it. He hasn't eaten much for a good couple days. I'm not sure he can tolerate a steak, so soup would be good if he can't. And we're out of propane. Can you pick up a couple bottles? This basement is on the cool side."

He heard Jim huff in annoyance. "Anything else?"

"How's Dad doing?" Sam asked, deflecting Jim's anger to a safer subject. He shivered, the chill air beginning to bite into his naked flesh. He grimaced at the dried come that coated him. The water was going to be freaking cold when he washed it off. He walked over and got his shirt, awkwardly holding the phone as he put it on. It helped a little.

"He's doing okay," Jim said. "Bobby called about an hour ago. John woke up and asked for you, though I guess he wasn't sure if you were really here or it was all just a nightmare."

Sadly, Sam wasn't sure it wasn't one really messed up nightmare himself. He glanced over at Dean. At least it wasn't all bad. "Okay. After I eat, I'll go to the motel and shower and then go in and relieve Bobby for awhile. How soon do you think you'll be here?"

"Steak, propane…Probably close to an hour. That okay? The monster behaving himself?"

"Dean is doing fine. We've been…doing some brotherly bonding."

"You didn't get within reach of him, did you?"

"Jim, do you think I'd get within reach of someone who wanted me dead?"

Jim snorted. "You think with your heart and not with your head, Samuel. That can make you do stupid things. It can make anyone do stupid things even if they don't mean to."

"I'm fine," Sam insisted.

"Then I'll see you in forty five minutes or so."

"Thanks, Jim. See you then." After ending the call, he gathered his clothes and walked gingerly toward the bathroom. Good God did he hurt.

Using his t-shirt, he cleaned himself free of the dried semen. It was freaking everywhere. His breath hissed with every swipe of the cold wet shirt. Satisfied he didn't stink of sex or have any apparent remnants of Dean's and his "bonding" time, he carefully pulled loose the semen soaked bandages on his chest. He cringed when he saw how many stitches he had pulled. He would just have the doctors fix it when he went in to see his dad. After carefully wiping around the nasty gashes, he pulled on his clothes, leaving his flannel shirt open so he could re-bandage his wounds, and headed out to the first aid kit.

With a start he realized Dean was watching him through hooded lids. He shifted his direction and walked over to Dean instead. Carefully he lowered himself down. He planted a kiss on Dean's lips before pulling away. Staring into those green eyes, he said with a satisfied smile, "Anyone ever tell you you're fucking amazing?"

Dean groaned softly in his sleep, the insistent buzzing of the cell phone having woken him as well, but he was still unwilling to let go of the younger man when Sam began to untangle himself. Trying to reach out and pull Sam back to him, not really thinking of the possible consequences if the younger man didn’t answer his phone, just knowing he didn’t want Sam to leave the cocoon of warmth they had created together.

He relented however with a sigh at the younger man’s reassurances. Smiling a little at the kiss he was given, laying back, but watching Sam through hooded eyelashes as he got up. Noticing how carefully the other man moved and damn if that didn’t just make him a little hot. Knowing Sam was so sore because he’d fucked the younger man so good.

Dean listened unashamedly to Sam’s conversation over the phone. Sighing a little, this time in disappointment, realizing that their time together was now about to come to an end. Forcing them out of the little bubble of pleasure and comfort they’d found with each other back into harsh reality. Much the same way it had always been when they were children. Barely ghosts to each other, the comfort they could offer one another in dreams never sustainable in the light of day.

He’d always fucking hated waking up. Now was no different.

Dean frowned a little however when the younger man asked the other hunter on the phone about John Winchester. The man Dean had tortured nearly to death, and Dean wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel or if he were supposed to feel anything. The hunter meant nothing to him. He was nothing but a pathetic meat sack his father had sent him to kill and Dean felt absolutely no guilt over what he’d done to the other man. He wasn’t stupid, he knew the man meant something to Sam, and there was the sticky issue, because even if the older hunter meant nothing to him, Sam did. As though that wasn’t an issue all in of itself they would one day have to deal with.

Dean remained silent when Sam glanced his way. Giving nothing away of his inner turmoil. Though he did snort softly at Sam’s comment about ‘brotherly bonding’. Oh yeah, they’d certainly bonded all right. However his smile slipped immediately off his face at Sam’s next words, about him wanting to kill Sam. Which wasn’t true, even before… everything. His mission had been to capture Sam Winchester alive after all. So his father could determine if the younger man’s powers had developed enough to take his place in his father’s army. So Sam could become like Dean…

The elder man swallowed back the feelings of disgust and fear welling up inside of him at the thought of Sam going through even a fraction of what Dean had suffered during his ‘training’. But what was there he could possibly do to prevent it? His father would have Sam eventually, one way or another. Whether Dean brought him before Azazel or another did. It was only a matter of time… and Sam, his Sam, would be taken away from him forever.

Dean was pulled out of his thoughts when Sam hung up his phone and he watched the younger man as Sam went to the bathroom. Watched as the younger man in the bathroom as he cleaned himself of the evidence of their lovemaking, feeling more than a bit of guilt when he watched the younger man remove the bandages on his chest. He hated seeing blood seeping from where the stitches on his chest had pulled free. He would have to be more careful with Sam… if there were a next time.

He opened his eyes when Sam came over to him, sighing softly at the gentle kiss he was given. Smiling at the younger man’s words as he ran his fingertips lightly down the younger man’s chest.

“Not really, no.” Dean answered, not that he hadn’t heard similar words from his sex partners before, but none of them had ever said it like Sam had. None of them he’d ever wanted to hear it from. He let his fingers continue to drift lower boldly. Lightly teasing over the younger man’s flaccid cock and balls through his jeans before reaching boldly between Sam’s legs. His fingers sliding between his cheeks to gently rub the denim over his used hole.

“How do you feel?”

Sam loved the feel of Dean’s light touch on his body and when Dean’s hand ran over his cock Sam was really glad Dean didn’t stop there and concentrate on it, because he couldn’t afford the luxury of making love again to Dean, not with Jim on his way. Dean’s hand rubbing his fingers along the seam of his denim, stopping right over that rather tender spot was bad enough.

“Like a virgin who had his brains fucked out,” Sam said, grinning. He sobered a little at Dean’s still oh so serious and worried look. “It hurts, but I’m okay. There’s no blood. You were careful. I’m sore, a little raw, that’s all.”

Sam drank in Dean’s naked body, unable to stop himself from returning Dean’s caress, running his hand along Dean’s side until he slid the flat of his palm over the elder man’s scarred chest, rubbing over Dean’s nipple, pausing just a moment, playing with it just a moment, before sliding his hand up along Dean’s neck. He cupped the side of Dean’s face with a gentle hand. Kissing Dean again, it took all his willpower not to shove his tongue into Dean’s mouth. He groaned and pulled away. God, Dean was so fucking beautiful.

“Sorry,” Sam said, looking away from Dean’s face. “We can’t get started again. We’d be interrupted and I’m sure they would think you bewitched me or something.”

Sam ran his fingers over the dried come on Dean’s stomach. It was his seed spilled there, dried there, and that was enough to make him get just a little bit hard. “We need to get you cleaned up before Jim gets here and change out your shoulder bandages. They got a little bit of me on them I think.” Sam laughed softly and turned his gaze to Dean’s leg wound, but he couldn’t resist letting his eyes rake over Dean’s cock and balls. He wanted it to be hard and pressed against him…

He shook his head. He was acting like a horny teenager. Of course, if he got Dean cleaned up and his bandages changed, he might be able to give Dean a quick blow job…and that made him just a little harder. Fuck.

He turned away from Dean and forced himself over to the bucket that has once held the ice that he had used to soothe away Dean’s fever. The rag was still in there and the water was definitely a little warmer than the ice water coming out of the tap. He squeezed the water out of the rag and hesitated. If he cleaned off Dean, he was going to be good and proper hard before he was through. He handed Dean the wet rag, knowing a flush was coming to his face. He pulled the bucket next to the elder man. “

I’ll get your bandages changed out while you clean up.” He gave Dean a hard look, but he couldn’t stop the fondness he knew was on his embarrassed face. “And please behave, at least until we get you presentable.”

Sam’s reply almost made a smile pull at his lips, if he wasn’t afraid that the younger man was making the joke just to cover up the pain, something Dean himself would have done. So when Sam answered him a little more honestly Dean nodded, relieved that there hadn’t been any tearing, sometimes there was no matter how careful. The soreness Sam felt was definitely normal, especially for a virgin, and would fade in time. It would also be much easier for the younger man the next time… if there were a next time.

Dean let out a pleasant sigh at the feeling of Sam’s hand running over his body. A light shiver of pleasure running through him as the younger man played with his tightening nipple that was still so sensitive from before. A small hope filling him that the ‘next time’ might not be as far away as he feared, as he lifted himself up a little, moaning softly at the kiss he was given. First in pleasure but then in disappointment when the younger man pulled away far too soon, apologizing.

No, we wouldn’t want them to think that. Dean thought a little bitterly, though he kept the expression of annoyance off his face at least. Though a part of him wasn’t quite sure if the opposite weren’t true. That Sam hadn’t bewitched him in some way. He’d already seen the younger man use his powers unconsciously several times. How could he be sure Sam wasn’t doing so to him now, when he had no defense against it?

No. Dean knew that wasn’t true. He could blame his stupidity for letting his feelings rule him on many things, but not that. Not that Sam hasn’t bewitched him, but not like that, and it was entirely Dean’s fault for letting him. It was also completely his fault that he didn’t, couldn’t, bring himself to regret it. At least not now. Maybe one day soon he would. More than likely they both would regret it.

Dean laid still, letting Sam touch him however he liked, loving the way the younger man’s eyes lingered on every intimate part of him. He liked that his body pleased Sam. He knew he was attractive, even with the scars, and sometimes it was an advantage and other times a disadvantage. This time it wasn’t either, and he liked that.

He took the offered rag and nodded, though he smirked and a somewhat naughty look crossed Dean’s features when Sam told him to behave himself. He didn’t comment however, simply dragged the wet cloth down his chest and stomach, maybe a little slower than he had to. Scrubbing away the dried come on his skin there before moving between his legs, spreading them as wide as he could with his ankles bound as he ran the cloth along his inner thighs, and then up over his sack. Taking himself in hand through the cloth, never looking away from Sam’s eyes as he wiped himself down even as his dick began to harden a little despite the cold water.

Sam tried really hard to ignore the slow stroke of the rag across Dean’s chest and stomach while Sam worked on gently loosening the bandages from Dean’s shoulder where Sam himself had stabbed him. He pulled the bandages away slowly, his eyes drifting back to Dean scrubbing at his stomach. Oh, he was a bastard.

Sam shifted uncomfortably as he felt his dick get just a little heavier. Sam forced his eyes to the stitched up wound and the birthmark beneath the stitches. Dean hadn’t pulled any of the stitches. Good. Sam pushed himself up and away from Dean, retrieving fresh bandages and antibiotic ointment from the first aid kit. When he turned back around to face Dean, he’s knees went soft while his dick went hard. Dean was splayed open, legs as wide as he could get them, and he was beginning to slowly stroke himself, his eyes locked on Sam’s face. Sam shut his eyes and groaned.

“Dammit Dean,” Sam murmured. He forced himself to drag his eyes away and met Dean’s all too pleased gaze. Licking his lips, Sam found his eyes slipping back down to Dean’s cock. With an effort he said, “Let me get the bandages chained—changed out first!”

He forced himself back to Dean’s side, spread ointment over the wound and he groaned at the same time as Dean at the feel of the ointment. So much like the KY jelly. Fuck.

Focus, Sam scolded himself and quickly re-bandaged the wound. He moved to the other side of Dean and loosened the bandages from the gunshot wound. Dean rubbed up against him.

“Don’ t you know what ‘behave’ means?” Sam growled. When Sam pulled off the bandages he stared at the bleeding raw flesh. He had been so upset when he had bandaged Dean the night before, the nastiness of the wound hadn’t really sunk in. He felt tears sting his eyes. They had done this to him. Yes, he knew Jim had to shoot Dean or Dean would have killed him. Then the Demon carving into Dean’s flesh. He ran light fingers around the wound. He didn’t want Dean to hurt this way. This had to have been agony while they were making love. He just wished it was healed so Dean wouldn’t hurt from it anymore. Hadn’t Dean suffered enough under the tutelage of the demons? His anger began to rise up and mix with the sadness. It wasn’t fair! Why had they done these terrible things to Dean? Why did Dean have suffer everything that he had? He felt the rapidly growing familiar flare of … something… inside him. He didn’t want Dean to hurt anymore. This wound was the representation for Sam of every pain Dean had ever suffered.

Beneath Sam’s light touch, Dean’s wounded shoulder began to heal, closing up faster and faster as Sam stared. Suddenly, it was healed then. Not even a scar left. A bit of wet blood was still on Dean’s skin, the only remnant of the wound.

Sam backed away a few steps on shaky legs. He couldn’t deny it. He just couldn’t deny it any longer. It was him. He’d done it. He had …supernatural abilities. He wasn’t just Sam anymore. He was something… else. Something not quite human anymore.

He fell to his knees and began heaving his guts out.

Dean was well aware of the effect his little displays were having on Sam, and he loved every moment of it. From the way the younger man’s eyes kept drifting away from what he was doing to watch what Dean was doing instead, to the way the bulge in Sam’s jeans kept getting just a little more prominent as he worked. Though he raised an eyebrow at Sam’s little Freudian slip of the tongue, grinning. So the younger man got off on seeing him in chains? Maybe he should have found that a little disturbing but to be honest very little actually disturbed him now a days. The fact that Sam was even kinkier than he thought only amused him rather than upset him.

Unfortunately the mood changed drastically when the younger man removed the bandages off of his left shoulder. The one that the demon had dug open with a knife, Dean glancing down at it a little surprised to find it bleeding. He must have reopened the wound a bit during their fucking, not that he had been paying attention or would have even cared if he had been. Sure it hurt like a bitch, but he’d had much worse.

The absolutely devastated look on Sam’s face, actual tears in his eyes as he lightly touched around the angry wound, confused Dean greatly. He was absolutely fine but the younger man was looking at it like it was life threatening.

“Sam…” He said the other man’s name softly, trying to draw him out of that mood and back to where they’d been but it was like Sam didn’t even hear him. Just kept looking at it, kept touching it gently like he was trying to take away the pain through his touch alone. Then Dean felt the flare of power within the younger man and gasped sharply as Sam did exactly that. The wound healing underneath his touch right before their eyes and Dean could only stare at Sam in utter shock. He didn’t even have that kind of power. How…

Suddenly Sam was backing away from him, sadness no longer the predominant emotion on the younger man’s face but absolute horror. Dean barely managed to push himself up, as though to go after him, but of course the chains brought him up short. When the younger man suddenly began to vomit Dean’s stomach twisted as well but not in disgust but fear. Fear for Sam. What he might be thinking.

“Sam!” He shouted, the chains rattling as he fought instinctively against them in his attempts to get to Sam but of course it was utterly useless. Dean held out his hand towards the other man as far as the restraints would allow, repeating the younger man’s name over and over trying to get him to focus on him and not on whatever he was thinking that had caused this reaction. “Sam, please… please…”

Come back to me. Don’t leave me. His eyes begged silently as he reached out.

Sam threw up again and again until he had nothing left but dry heaves. His body was coated with sweat from the sheer violence of each convulsion. Sporadic waves of fear pulsed through him and he found himself dry heaving again. What was he? Dear God, what was he? This was why they were after him. Did they want to kill him? Capture him? Did his father have these powers too and never told Sam?

Dean had these powers. Bobby and Jim both said Dean had something in him that was …evil. At least he had something in him that reacted to Bobby’s magical concoction. Did Sam also have …?

Vaguely Sam heard his name called over and over as his mind churned with the thoughts and fears that kept him on his knees throwing up, vaguely heard the rattle of chains. He had to know. He had to know if what was in Dean was also…in him. He pushed himself up and ran up the stairs, barreling into Bobby’s workroom. His gaze swept over the things on the table, searching for the solution Bobby had made from the herbs. His gaze came to rest on amber liquid. Bobby’s whiskey. He stared at it a moment. That wasn’t what he was here for. But all he could taste in his mouth was vomit. His dad always said the drink sometimes helped him through bad times. If this didn’t classify as the worst most fucked up days he had ever had, then nothing did. Grabbing the bottle and twisting the lid free, he took a long draught of the fiery drink, feeling the burn slide down his throat and into his stomach. Hell, he’d probably throw it up too, but he didn’t care and took another long drink. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He was here for a reason. To find out.

Setting the bottle back onto the table he pawed through the scattered things until he found a small vial of blood. Dean’s likely enough. A large bottle filled with the smoky herbal solution sat on the end of the table. His hands shaking, Sam poured a little into a beaker, then put of few drops of Dean’s blood into it. Immediately the liquids roiled and the blood droplets broke apart into a fine mist peppering the solution, each tiny droplet now hissing and racing about in the solution as if it were alive. Sam’s eyes fell onto the scalpel that Bobby had been using to carefully cut up the herbs. It would do. Gripping the scalpel tightly, Sam sliced a gash into his arm just back from his wrist and held it over the solution.

When his blood and the solution came into contact with each other, the reaction was more than just strong. It was violent. The solution and blood practically warred with one another, foaming and hissing. Sam jumped when a crack resounded in the room and the beaker broken into several pieces. Sam shrank away from it, staring at the pieces of the beaker and the still burbling reaction between the solution and his own blood. He felt his back hit the door frame and he shook his head still trying to deny it. Just as with Dean’s healed shoulder, he couldn’t. The damning evidence continued to foam on the table in front of him. He heard an agonizing cry from the basement, a cry that was his name. Dean…

Sam simply dropped the scalpel where he stood, a trail of blood dripping from his arm as he slowly walked back to the basement and descended the steps, his head bowed. When he reached Dean he collapsed to his knees, clutching at the elder man as silent tears streamed down his face. He felt his brother’s strong arms embrace him protectively and he hugged Dean back.

“What am I?” Sam whispered, trembling, terrified of the answer.

Dean wasn’t used to feeling fear like this. It was an emotion he couldn’t afford, like so many others. He’d learned how to shove it aside. Push it down. Ignore it. Fear was a human emotion. A human weakness. That didn’t mean he was never afraid. Hardly. But like pain, he’d been taught how not to acknowledge it in order to survive. But Dean wasn’t used to feeling fear for others rather than himself. He’d never… cared… for anyone enough to feel fear for them. Like he did now for Sam…

And he was helpless, absolutely helpless, to do anything about it.

The other man simply didn’t hear him. No matter how many time, or how loudly Dean shouted Sam’s name, the younger man didn’t look at him. He simply remained, hunched over, heaving until there was nothing left inside of him but he continued to shake and convulse with sickness.

“Sammy…” He pleaded unashamed, and Dean had stopped begging anyone for anything a long time ago. He didn’t beg for mercy. He didn’t beg for forgiveness. He didn’t beg for an end to the pain. But he begged Sam now, and Sam didn’t hear him. Didn’t see him. Just when he hoped that Sam might, instead the younger man ran away from him.

“SAM!” Dean screamed the younger man’s name but the only reply he got was the echo of his own voice in the basement and Dean dropped to his knees again as a rush of hopeless anger washed over him. Striking his fists over and over against the cold concrete floor until they were split open and bloody, needing some outlet, any for the feelings churning inside of him he didn’t understand. The harsh smell of bile not far away turning his own stomach as he screamed in hopeless rage, but not because of the smell itself because what it symbolized.

Why? Why was the younger man doing this? Reacting this way? Just because Sam had finally realized what he had been doing, what power he had, by healing Dean? It had been an accident, just like everything else Dean had seen the younger man do. Things Sam had refused to see or acknowledge, but what he’d done to Dean’s shoulder was simply too big to ignore any longer. And Sam was disgusted by that power, he was repulsed by it… that same power Dean had…

Did that mean on some deep level Sam was also repulsed by him? Perhaps he wasn’t even consciously aware of it. Perhaps that too he’d refused to acknowledge. It was easy to ignore, just as Sam had ignored his own gifts, while his powers were bound by magic and he was bound in chains. But sooner or later he would have to face it, just like he now had to face his own powers. What did that mean for him? For them? Perhaps Dean was an even greater fool than he thought.

Dean didn’t even realize he was still shouting Sam’s name pathetically begging for the younger man to come back for him until he heard the sound of footsteps slowly descending the stairs and he looked up. He probably would have laughed at or cursed himself if he could have seen the hope in his eyes when he saw the younger man, but Sam didn’t even look at him and that little hope plummeted in his chest like a rock. What now? Now that Sam knew, and was repulsed, by the power inside him, the same power in Dean. What now? Instead of healing him would Sam hurt him? Just like Sam had hurt him when he’d been tied to that chair. Instead of… loving… him would Sam kill him?

Dean knelt there on the mattress, silent now as he watched the younger man approach him. Unconsciously holding his breath. Waiting. When Sam dropped down and put his arms around him it took the elder man a few moments to realize that it wasn’t so that he could choke the life out of him. Another moment to realized he didn’t think he would have stopped Sam if that were the case. Then his arms wrapped instinctively around the other man’s shaking body, clinging to him just as tightly as Sam clung to him.

The question… wasn’t unexpected… but Dean still had no answer. So many ways he could answer. He could tell the younger man that Sam was like him, one of Azazel’s children. He could tell him he had demon blood inside of him, just like Dean did. He could tell Sam he was gifted, better than other humans. He could commit the ultimate betrayal to his father by telling Sam everything, telling Sam his father’s plans for him. Why Dean had been sent to murder those other hunters, John Winchester, and to kidnap Sam.

Or he could lie and tell Sam he didn’t know…

“You’re my brother.” Dean finally whispered. The only truth he could offer Sam right now.

Sam felt his breath hitch. Dean accepted they were brothers. But did he accept it because Sam had powers just like him? Or had he accepted it long before that? And if he accepted it, wasn’t it just a little weird that Dean wanted to fuck him? They were brothers and brothers didn’t fuck each other. Not in any sane world. But Sam wasn’t really sure he was sane anymore anyhow. So what did that make him? He knew they were brothers and he wanted Dean to fuck him. Maybe it was whatever was in him, in them both. Maybe that twisted up everything. Maybe it made them both want something that just wasn’t natural. Made them feel it was okay and that it was right.

He wasn’t human. That’s what Bobby and Jim had said of Dean. He was a monster. A thing. What would they think when they discovered Sam was just like Dean? Maybe…maybe his dad was too. Maybe they already knew about it.

No. If they did then they wouldn’t be calling Dean the things they called him. They wouldn’t be experimenting on Dean and almost kill him in the process.

Sam couldn’t very well ask his father. If his dad wasn’t the source of their power, telling his dad he had powers too might throw his father back into cardiac arrest. He could heal Dean though. What if he could heal his father? He didn’t know how the damned thing worked to even try. He had no idea how to call those powers forth, and he wasn’t even sure he should. They were what made Dean evil, right? If Dean was so evil, then why was he holding Sam to him, comforting him?

It was time, he decided. It was time to find out if Dean was just fucking with his head. If he died because he trusted the scorpion, then he died. He wasn’t sure he wanted to live, not if he had powers. He tried to deny it as he had denied everything else, but the blood in his veins was demonic. That’s what Bobby’s magic bags were for. Binding a demon’s powers. Dean had demon in him. Sam knew now that he did too. He didn’t know how it had gotten into him, but it had.

Sam finally pulled back from Dean. He saw the deep concern in Dean’s eyes and managed a weak smile. “I’m okay. Well, maybe not okay, but better.”

Sam ran his hand through Dean’s hair. Damn, they both really needed a shower. Almost as much as they both needed a good meal.

All he could think was that Jim was going to kill him. Assuming Dean didn’t first.

He gave Dean a brief kiss and pushed himself up to his feet. He saw the question in his brother’s eyes.

“I’ll be right back.”

As he started to step away, Dean stood and grabbed his arm.

“I’m not leaving. I just have to go upstairs for a minute. I have to get something,” Sam reassured him. He could feel Dean’s reluctance at letting him go, but he did and Sam headed to the stairs. He dug through the hunter’s equipment until he found the small pouch which he carried back downstairs. He unzipped the pouch, pulled out the lock picks and went over to Dean, standing just out of reach. If he couldn’t get Dean’s word, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

“Tell me you won’t hurt my friends. Give me your word that you won’t hurt Bobby or Jim, and you won’t hurt Dad. Promise me. …And promise me that you won’t leave me.”

Dean heard the younger man’s soft intake of breath and he involuntarily tensed, holding his own breath as he waited for Sam’s reply. Had Dean said the right thing or had he said the wrong thing? A small eternity seemed to pass, his heart pounding hard in his chest, until Sam finally shifted in his arms… pulling away from him…

Fear morphed into the most bitter crushing disappointment he’d ever known and had absolutely no defense from it, though he tried. Tried to brace himself for the disgust or even hate he’d once more see in Sam’s eyes instead of affection. Tried to brace himself for whatever Sam would say or do to him now. Leave him, maybe even kill him…

But there was only affection in Sam’s watery eyes and Dean felt practically weak with relief. He was still worried, of course, for Sam, but seeing that smile no matter how weak it was, was probably one of the greatest joys Dean had ever known in all his life.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed softly at the gentle fingers stroking so tenderly through his hair, moaning softly at the soft kiss he was given, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms tightly around Sam and never let him go. Kiss him again, deeper, harder, replacing every pain either of them had ever known in their lives with pleasure.

Unfortunately all too soon Sam was drawing away from him even more and when Dean opened his eyes fear was already creeping back into them. He didn’t want Sam to go. Didn’t want him to leave. Even reached out instinctively to grab the younger man’s arm tighter than he meant to but he couldn’t make himself loosen his hold. Even once Sam reassured him he would be back soon, he didn’t know how he forced himself to let go. Agitation crawling under his skin like insects the entire time Sam was away. Every second feeling like a small eternity.

How had he come to rely on the younger man’s presence in his life so much in such a short time? A few days ago he would have sworn he needed no one. Cared for no one… no one except the boy in his dreams. The boy who was now a man. The boy who was now real, flesh and blood, no longer a ghost. Something he could hold on to, cling to, and Dean was determined not to let him slip away from him like in his dreams.

When Sam finally returned Dean felt relief but also curiosity, then utter shock when he realized just what Sam had gone to fetch and what he planned to do. Sam was setting him free, unlocking his chains, if Dean promised…

Dean looked down at his bound hands. That and the pouch hanging around his neck the only things that had been making him ‘behave’ or so he’d tried telling himself before. Now Sam was offering to release him from one of his prisons, asking for nothing in exchange but his word, and trusting him to keep it. Dean knew he could easily promise these things… and Sam would simply let him go. Whether it was a lie or not, Sam would do it. Would take the snake to his breast blindly trusting it wouldn’t bite him.

The worst of it was, Dean wasn’t sure if he made this promise if it would be a lie or not. He… wanted to stay with Sam. More than anything, and that frightened him. Just thinking what he might do in order to keep Sam safe. Going against everything he knew, everything he’d been ever taught to feel. Thinking of the dangers they would both face, not only from demons but maybe even from these ‘friends’ that Sam cared so much for, that had no idea what Sam really was. What if they turned on Sam once the younger man let him go? Would Sam still expect him to keep his promise if they tried to kill either of them?

“Even if I could give you that promise, you can’t trust me.” Dean finally said softly, looking into the younger man’s eyes, and swallowing hard as he stepped away from Sam. His chains rattling as he moved back towards the wall. He almost couldn’t believe what he was doing. All he knew was it was far less complicated, far less dangerous for both of them, if he remained a prisoner.

“Don’t unlock them… please.”

Instead of answering him, Dean stared down at his shackles as if mesmerized. Sam held his breath. It was foolish to offer this to Dean. He had only been with them a few days. A leopard didn’t change his spots that fast, if at all. Part of Sam’s desires to free Dean was purely selfish. He didn’t want to leave Dean. He wanted Dean at his side. His dream boy friend always seemed to make everything better. No matter how scared, how tired, how much he hurt, those almost intangible arms embracing him, that presence always made it better. He was all of those things—scared, tired, hurt-- and more right now, and his best friend was really here and tangible. He needed those arms around him, consoling and supporting him. He would give up any physical relationship with Dean so long as Dean was with him.

The thoughts of giving his best friend warmth and comfort in the form of a nice motel room, hot running water, a soft bed, and his own presence were his primary motivators. Sure sex was among his carnal motivations, but at the the moment those were paltry in comparison.

When Dean finally looked up to meet his eyes, Dean’s words shocked him and he stared dumbfounded as Dean backed away from him. Sam didn’t understand…no, maybe he did. The demons had brainwashed and trained him to be a killer. He had a mission to kill hunters. His father and himself were apparently on that list. While Dean was a prisoner, he had a justification for being unable to complete that mission. He didn’t have to hurt Sam.

Licking his lips, Sam gave a curt nod and smiled sadly. “Okay. I understand.”

Sam replaced the picks in the pouch and climbed the stairs, putting them back in the hunting gear. He paused and looked in at the table with the broken beaker. There was still some small bit of reaction going on. He shut his eyes a moment then returned to the basement. He walked boldly up to Dean and planted a deep kiss on his lips and pulled Dean into his arms.

When he finally pulled away, he smiled lovingly at Dean and whispered. “Thank you for not lying to me.” He stepped back to the first aid kit. “I have to rebandage your shoulder. I’m not ready to explain to Jim and Bobby how it was miraculously cured. And you need to finish cleaning yourself up without distracting me with your beautiful body. Jim will be here any minute and I’m not ready to explain you and me to them either.” He carried the bandages back to the mattress near the bucket of water and motioned Dean to come sit beside him.

Dean could see the confusion written clearly on Sam’s face, no less than his own though he concealed it much better, along with the fear that he might have just lost the younger man’s trust completely. Trust he never should have been able to gain in the first place, and would have probably been better for Sam in the end if he hadn’t, but that Dean still feared to lose.

The elder man almost smiled when he finally saw acceptance flash in the younger man’s eyes and Sam said he understood. That was good, at least one of them did. It was odd to feel relief when Sam put away the lock picks and returned upstairs with them. The heavy weight of the chains around his wrists and ankles a comfort rather than a burden. Maybe he was more than a little insane, but as long as he wore them he knew he could keep the promise Sam asked for. That was all that mattered to him right now.

When Sam returned, coming up to him without hesitation and kissing him Dean couldn’t help but moan softly into the younger man’s mouth as his arms wrapped gently around him. The kiss over far too soon in his opinion even though he knew time was of the essence now. Dean nodded in full agreement when Sam suggested he bandage his shoulder anyway and the reason. It was best the other hunters had no idea what Sam was capable of, just as it was best they didn’t know of their affection for each other. Safer for both of them.

So Dean moved over to sit down on the mattress where Sam indicated, picking up the previously discarded cloth he’d been using earlier to finish cleaning himself. This time quick and business like, and when he and Sam were both done with their tasks he pulled his clothes back into place. All the while considering his next words carefully, before finally speaking.

“You need to learn to control it, your power.” Dean said softly, looking into Sam’s eyes seriously. Unsure what the younger man’s reaction to his words might be considering how violently he’d reacted to the fact that he even had powers, but Dean had to take that chance. “I’ve never seen anyone with as much power as you have, and you wield it instinctively like a battering ram. That’s dangerous, for you and others, but I can show you how to control it.”

After Dean spoke, Sam turned to the first aid kit since he still hadn’t rebandaged his injuries. As he began bandaging his stitched up chest and his gashed arm, he contemplated Dean’s words.

His power. He suspected Dean had seen a lot of people with powers like his. He wondered if it was a good or bad thing that if he was going to have powers, they were stronger than anyone else’s. Probably a good thing. It would suck to have powers and be the target of every bully on the block. Especially when those bullies were demonic.

He had been thinking about asking Dean to teach him how to use them, but he hadn’t decided if that was wise or not. Dean said it himself, he couldn’t be trusted. Sam trusted Dean wouldn’t hurt him while he was chained. Hell trusted that Dean wouldn’t hurt him if he weren’t chained…mostly. He had seen in Dean’s eyes that Dean cared for him. Maybe not enough for Dean not to do his job, but one step at a time. Little battles won might win the war.

What if Dean could teach him to heal? He could heal his dad. If the powers were demonic, would using them for doing good counter the evil of their source? It was kind of like he held blood diamonds in his hands with no way to return them. How they came to be was horrible, but if he were to use them to buy things for people in need or donate them, at least something good would come from them…right? And whether he kept them or used them, they were still there and there would still be thugs after him. In this case, demons. These demons were a danger to him, to his father, to Jim and to Bobby. Yeah, they had tools to fight the demons, but nothing as effective as fighting fire with fire. Power with power.

He had jumped to the conclusion that Dean was sent to kill him. But that really didn’t make sense. They went after his friends. They went after his father. Dean lured him to that factory. He sicced a hellhound on him after he separated Sam from Jim and Bobby and sicced several hellhounds on them. Dean had been playing with him. Planned on killing his father in front of him. Why? Sam didn’t think Dean had done that with any other hunter. And it was anger or fear that always triggered that flare of power he felt. Dean was pushing him to test him. To see if he had powers. If he hadn’t had the bag of tricks Bobby had given him, he would have shown Dean he had power and Dean would have taken him down with little effort after that. And then there was what that demon girl told him. That it was going to take Sam in and someone was going to be pleased to see him. Again.

The demon that killed his mom, somehow put demonic blood into him, and kidnapped Dean.

Probably whoever yellow eyes, Dean, and the two demons they killed worked for. Although, he had never seen a demon have eyes any other color than black. Did that mean yellow eyes was higher up the food chain maybe? Still unlikely he was the boss. Why get his hands dirty after all?

Sam finally turned back around to face Dean and brought Dean over some clean water to wash his bloodied hands and some bandages for those wounds. He saw the concern and trepidation in his brother’s eyes.

Sam sighed as he set the supplies down and began working on Dean’s battered hands. “I’ve been denying I had these powers ever since you pushed me into using them. Yes, I think I should learn to control them. Hell, wield them. They’re going to be my only protection against more demonic hunters intent on taking me to your boss. The answer’s yes, regardless of what you tell me next, but I want to know, I need to know a few things. Were you sent here to take me to your boss? And yellow eyes, the one that killed Jessica, does he answer to your boss, too? Do you know if your boss is the one who kidnapped you and took you away from us? Please, Dean. Tell me. I’m guessing me being trained was probably the ultimate intent, trained and working for your boss, so consider more of your job done.” Sam winced when that last bit came out more bitter than he intended. His eyes turned to steel as he asked the final question. “You said I’m more powerful than anyone you’ve ever seen. Does that include your boss?”

The longer the silence stretched between his ‘offer’ and Sam’s answer the more uneasy Dean became. Sam went about what he was doing, tending to his own bandages and then Dean’s hands without really meeting his eyes and the elder man began to believe he’d made a mistake. That Sam might not even answer him at all, rather pretend that he’d never made his offer in the first place… hell maybe that would be the best, because what had Dean really offered Sam except a way to defend himself against his father…

If his father found out… At this point Dean knew he was as probably good as dead anyway for his spectacular failure, probably with a great deal of pain before he took his last breath and then even more once his soul was trapped in hell. But if there was one thing he knew, there was suffering and then there was suffering. Azazel knew how to inflict both, and Dean shuddered to think of some of the things he’d seen his father do to his enemies done to him.

He was almost hoping now that Sam wouldn’t answer him, or at least tell him no. But Sam needed to learn. So far he’d tapped into his gifts surprisingly well, with no harmful backlashes to himself or others. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen, and wouldn’t happen soon. The more easily Sam was able to reach for that power, the easier he could lose control of it. So when the younger man, finally, agreed Dean was pleased even though to be honest his feelings were mixed, even though he’d been the one to make the offer in the first place.

When Sam went on to ask him questions, questions Dean couldn’t answer, Dean’s unease about the whole thing only grew. It would be so ‘easy’ to give Sam the answers he asked for. The younger man had already figured out a surprising amount on his own, though he didn’t know it. He was either very perceptive or guessing and just happening to guess correctly. All Dean had to say was ‘yes’ or ‘no’, shake or nod his head. But he couldn’t…

One day Azazel would find him, it was inevitable and Dean knew his father would know if Dean gave Sam any information. He could take the knowledge right out of his head if he wished. Dean couldn’t hide forever. Sooner or later his father would find him, and then… But if he didn’t tell Sam what he wanted to know… Dean was torn. With the choice between risking his father’s and Sam’s wrath… Dean feared both for completely different reasons, but that didn’t make them both equally powerful.

“If I tell you, he’s going to know. I can’t… I’m sorry…” Dean finally whispered, dropping his eyes, willing to take any punishment Sam decided to dish out.

Sam sighed again, but this time in frustration. He wanted those answers. Maybe, though, maybe if he learned how to handle his powers well enough, Dean would feel Sam could protect him from whoever this “he” was. It might not be apparent, but he could sense Dean was afraid of this “he” who was probably Dean’s boss and therefore a demon. He knew, he had felt, some of the things done to Dean, and a few times he knew that torture was for punishment. When they were upstairs, when Sam threatened to torture Dean to get information, the elder man implied the torturers of Hell had worked him over again and again. If he told Sam anything, that, he believed, would be his fate again. To be at the torturers’ mercy.

That wasn’t going to happen, not while there was any breath of life in Sam. He would save his brother. He would find a way. If rage drove his power, then just let anyone try to hurt Dean or take him away from Sam. They would discover Sam’s full extent of power. He didn’t know how strong he was, but he had completely lost control in the warehouse and he had banished every last hellhound back the netherworld. And that was him just beginning to embrace those powers. What could he do if he could actually control them? The thought scared him, but if meant his brother’s salvation, then by God, he would do anything, give anything, to see Dean free from that demonic bastard. He didn’t just want that demonic bastard sent so far into Hell he had no chance of crawling out in their lifetimes, he wanted that son-of-a-bitch dead.

Sam felt the start of the flare of power in him, responding to his rage. No, no, no! Letting go of his rage, Sam frantically pushed that surge back. He didn’t have a target for the rage and that, he suspected, would be a very bad thing.

The trickle of warm fluid from his nose brought a soft curse to his lips and he wiped the blood away as a mild headache thrummed to life. He had gotten nosebleeds on and off through out his life and typically it was after he had been really really pissed at someone or something. A blinding migraine was a common follow up to said nosebleed. He frowned and wondered if there was any connection to his powers. He shook his head a little to himself. Probably nothing more than a coincidence he told himself and forced himself to calm down and not panic. It was getting far too easy for that power of his to jump to life and someone was going to get hurt because of his carelessness. He needed to learn control and as fast as possible.

Finishing the bandaging of Dean’s hands, Sam used his finger to lift Dean’s chin so he could lock gazes with the elder man. He knew his brother was afraid Sam was going to lash out at him and demand answers. That was what Dean had come to expect from anyone. If he didn’t do as he was asked, he was punished. Well, not in this lifetime.

“You at least gave me a reason for not telling me this time. I’m not happy, but I accept that reason and I think I understand it.” He pulled Dean into his arms. “If you teach me, maybe I can learn enough to protect you, maybe learn enough to get you free of this demon. I’ll do everything I can to make sure no one ever hurts you again. We’re brothers. It’s our job to look out for one another.”

Dean kept his head lowered submissively. Kneeling passively on the mattress. The position he'd often assumed while he was waiting for the torture to begin. Waiting for his father's wrath.

Now waiting for his… brother's…

Even though he'd said the word, it was still so hard to believe. He wasn't even sure he really did, even though there was little else that could explain everything. The connection they had. The reason they'd dreamed each other. Of course he knew his father had taken him from somewhere… saved him… that's what his father had said.

Saved him from being merely human. Saved him from all human weaknesses… He'd believed that. He wasn't sure what he believed anymore.

When he felt the flare of the younger man's power it came as no surprise to him. He'd recognized that pattern as surely as Sam had. How easily the power came in response to strong emotion. Especially anger. Which was why when Sam lifted his chin Dean was surprised by the lack of it in the younger man's eyes. Even more surprised when he was pulled into a tight embrace.

Sam wasn't going to punish him? It was true that the younger man had said he wouldn't torture him before even after he'd threatened too, but then not long after Sam had beaten him anyway. He wouldn't have blamed Sam for beating him now, and was prepared for it. It wouldn't have changed the way he felt about the younger man.

When Sam talked about protecting him… from Azazel… Dean didn't know whether to feel terrified at the thought of the younger man trying to stand up to the demon, or completely confused as to why Sam would risk himself like that in the first place. Risk his life, and more, for him… Of course Sam had no idea what he would be dealing with, but that didn't make his offer any less overwhelming.

Dean's arms came up around the younger man and held him tightly, he didn't know what to say, how to put what he was feeling in words, so he said nothing. Simply holding on to Sam, his brother, for as long as he could, praying this dream wouldn't be ripped from his grasp like so many others.

Sam smiled when Dean clutched at him tightly and Sam tightened his own embrace a little. He wished he could control his powers enough, that he could trust them enough, to try to heal Dean. He wondered if rage could bring on his powers, maybe love could as well? He still decided it was best to wait to try. Dean would teach him and then if Dean still needed healing, he would be able to do it for Dean without fear.

For now, he was content to hold his brother. He knew Dean had a long way to go before he would be able to function in a human world. All Dean knew was whatever those bastards had beaten into him. It had taken Sam a while to figure out Dean expected to be beaten every time he refused to do something, but having seen Dean looking so painfully submissive, it erased any doubt he was waiting for Sam to mete out punishment.

If his brother was anything like Sam and his father, he understood a little better why Dean had been beaten so much when he was younger. Winchester was synonymous with stubborn ass. That also meant Dean was going to be stubborn about letting go of what the demons made him into, whether he meant to be or not. It was just the Winchester way.

Sam ran his fingers through the hair on the back of Dean’s head. He realized suddenly that he didn’t want to kiss Dean or make love to him at this moment. He just wanted to be with Dean. With his brother, whom he had always loved even if now it was not quite in the way brothers were supposed to. Who was to say what was normal though? His life had been anything but normal, and if he found happiness in his brother’s arms…he would steal this precious time and damn the rest of the world and their mores. Convincing Jim and Bobby…and his father… of that particular outlook might be a bit more challenging. For now he would rather they saw nothing but brotherly love develop between Sam and Dean. If the other hunters suspected something more, he would deal with that then.

Sam and Dean. It sounded right. It sounded like they should have always been together, and not just as ghostly comfort for one another.

Sam finally released Dean. “I need to get my little experiment upstairs cleaned up. I don’t need Bobby or Jim asking how that beaker got broken and why there’s a bloody scalpel up there.” Sam looked over at the puddle of vomit. His stomach still ached from his dry heaves. “And if either of us are going to have any appetite, that nastiness needs to be gone too.”

He ran his hand along Dean’s temple and through his hair. “I’ll see if we can’t get you a portable shower set up down here. Maybe we can even get the water heater working or something. I refuse to have wild passionate love with Stinky Boy which you are going to be in another few days. You’re creeping that way now, Dude.” He grinned at the elder man.

Okay, so maybe he did want to kiss Dean. Those damned sensual lips were just too damned delicious. Sam planted a deep, intense kiss on Dean. When he finally came up for air he gasped, “Damn I wish we had more time.”

Sam pushed himself to his feet and was glad he didn’t see hurt in his brother’s eyes that Sam had stopped the kiss. Sam refilled the bucket with fresh water and went over to the nasty puddle and quickly began wiping it up, trying hard to keep his gorge down. He glanced back at Dean whose gaze was fixed on him. With a mischievous grin Sam sloooowly took his shirt off and set it aside, then went back to work get the last of the vomit wiped away. After dumping and rinsing out the bucket, he thoroughly washed his hands. Just the upstairs left.

Sam grabbed his shirt and slipped back into it. Shit it was chilly in the basement. He paused before he headed up the stairs, his attention on his brother. “I would like to show Jim and Bobby that I have some measure of trust for you. When Jim gets here with the food, would it be all right if I sat with you and ate? You know, within your reach? Would that put you in a position where you felt compelled to try to show them I can’t trust you?”

Dean knew he could have stayed like this for hours. Just like this. Holding on to each other like nothing else in the world existed but them while Sam pet him in a way that practically had the older man purring. Sam's warmth soaking into him. The feel of the younger man's body pressing against him practically everywhere, feeling so good. Sam's smell filling his senses, fuck, he smelled good. Warm. Clean. Pure. Though the scent was slightly dulled by alcohol, Dean hardly minded. He wished they could stay here, where nothing else mattered. Nothing but them.

When Sam finally relaxed his hold Dean allowed the younger man to draw away with a deep sigh of regret. But he knew Sam was right. He didn't really understand what the other man meant by the experiment he'd done upstairs, wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he knew it was best for both their interests that the other hunters learned nothing about the drama that had just occurred in the last few minutes. Especially regarding Sam's 'newly' discovered powers.

He didn't trust those hunters with Sam. If they discovered that the younger man was like him, what was going to stop them from doing to Sam the same thing they'd done to him? Chain him up and experiment on him. Torture him. The only reason they still weren't doing that to him was because of Sam. But once they discovered Sam had demon blood flowing through his veins what was to stop them from turning on the younger man?

Though Dean couldn't help but smile in amusement when Sam mentioned them getting him a shower, for fuck sake, and the reason why. Turning this old abandoned basement into a virtual suite compared to what Dean was used to. Not that he thought the other hunters were going to go for it, and Dean could just as easily bathe with a bucket of water when he needed to, but he appreciated the thought. He also definitely appreciated the implication that Sam wanted to have sex with him again. Hopefully soon.

Dean groaned softly when Sam kissed him passionately, eagerly accepting the younger man's tongue into his mouth and then chasing it back into Sam's. Tasting every inch of the younger man's mouth he possibly could before Sam broke their kiss and he echoed the younger man's sigh of frustration.

However he let Sam pull out of his arms without complaint. Watching as the younger man started the less than pleasant task of cleaning up the mess on the floor. Of course Dean had seen far worse. There wasn't much more disgusting than chunks of steaming rotting flesh and chunks of bone spread covering every surface, including yourself. But that still didn't make it any more pleasant.

At least, until Sam did his little strip tease in the middle of his work, and Dean raised an eyebrow and chuckled softly. Enjoying the view of Sam on his hands and knees, and the play of muscles along his chest and back. Dean was almost disappointed when the younger man finished.

The question Sam asked him when the younger man paused on his way up the stairs surprised Dean a bit. He wasn't sure he agreed with Sam's plan to show the other hunters that Sam trusted him. If he were in the hunters place he'd probably think the younger man was taking foolish risks and put a stop to it. One way or another.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea. They are never going to believe I'm not a danger to you. You trusting me would only in my advantage, they would know that." Dean wondered if he would ever not be a danger to Sam, even if he didn't want to be. "They would only consider me an even bigger threat to you if you showed them you trusted me."

Sam chewed over Dean’s words. His brother had a point. Still he wanted the older hunters to see that Dean could be trusted, at least with Sam. After what Dean said when Sam offered to release him, he wasn’t sure the same could be said of Dean when it came to Jim and Bobby though. Well, Fuck.

Sam gave a nod to Dean and began climbing the stairs, not quite sure yet which side of the line he wanted to walk. Dean had given him a lot more answers than his brother probably meant to. Sure, there was still some question as to the veracity of those answers, but at least Sam could start constructing working theories.

Dean wouldn’t hurt him; that was pretty much a given. It was also pretty apparent the demonic boss wanted Sam brought in. That and any feelings the two brothers were developing for one another only further supported that Dean wouldn’t hurt him. If Dean got loose would he take Sam to his boss? That was a little more in question. Dean cared about Sam as much, maybe even more, than Sam cared about Dean. Dean might well decide the best way for them to be together was for him to take Sam to this boss. As for Jim, Bobby, and his father, Dean potentially had orders to kill them. There it got sticky. Dean had every right not to trust Jim or Bobby, and he didn’t know their father, so he had no reason to fight any order he might have been given regarding them. The only saving grace might be if Dean cared enough about Sam that he wouldn't want to hurt someone Sam cared about. But orders were orders…

At least Sam knew where he needed to start. He needed to convince Jim and Bobby to treat Dean like a human and not a demon. No, they couldn’t trust him. And yes, it was going to be hard because of what Dean had done to Dad, but they had to get over it, just as Dean was going to have to learn to deal with them.

Sam entered Bobby’s work room and looked at the blackened mess around the broken beaker. That was in him. Demon blood. For a little while there, he could almost pretend it had been just another part of the nightmare. Hell, who was he kidding, he was in a waking nightmare.

Sifting through Bobby's supplies, Sam found an empty store bag and carefully picked up the pieces of the beaker and set them down inside. On top of it he added the rest of the melted and burned goo, cleaning it up as best he could, but he knew Bobby was going to notice the scorch marks on the table. Scorch marks.

They had put this poison in Dean. It must have been excruciating. Bobby couldn't have known. None of them expected anything like this. He wondered why his blood reacted so much more strongly than Dean's. Maybe because he was younger when he got it? Surely the demon that had held Dean all these years would have made sure Dean got plenty of the virus or blood or whatever it was. Age—or a different demon—was the only real explanation for the difference then. Sam chewed on his lip. If the source of the demonic blood came from a demon doing something to him, then the demon wouldn't have handed the job off to an underling. Somehow he didn't see a demon carry around a syringe of demon virus or poisoned apple or whatever the fuck it used. Then maybe the demon that did this to him was…yellow eyes? Maybe. He could pretend he was confident that was the case and spring it on Dean and see how Dean reacted. Or the next demonic bad-ass he ran in to. It was a pretty damned good bet there would be more.

He gaze lingered on the scorching on the table. There was little doubt Bobby would ask about it and he wasn’t sure yet what he would tell Bobby when Bobby asked. He really needed to speak with his dad. He would rather talk this out with his dad first, if his father was strong enough. What was he going to say? The last time he had spilled his guts to his dad, he had nearly killed him! Worse, all the horrible things Dean had done to John would be there smacking him in the face, reminding him just what Dean really was—no, not what, who. If he couldn't even keep that straight in his mind, how the hell was he going to get Jim and Bobby over on his side? Dean had only been doing what he had been taught to do. What he had been ordered to do. If he and Sam hadn’t been best friends through the years, Dean would be dead by now. He would have killed his own brother without even knowing it.

Sam picked up the bloodied scalpel and washed it off thoroughly before setting it back on the table. Last thing he wanted was Bobby to be cutting up herbs and the scalpel to suddenly start fizzing away. After he buried the bag with the broken beaker deeply in a bag of trash Bobby had already started, he began cleaning up the trail of blood his gashed arm had left on the floor leading to the basement. He had just reached the basement door when he heard the front door open. Sam grabbed the salt loaded shotgun and pointed it toward the front hall. He grinned when he saw Jim and set the gun back down, leaning it against the doorframe. He strode forward and helped lighten the one armed man of his delicious smelling load of food.

“That smells freaking awesome,” Sam said.

Jim smiled at the young hunter. “Nice to see you too, Samuel.”

Sam flushed. “Uh, good to see you, Jim. Thanks for getting dinner.”

“I have four propane tanks outside yet. I dropped them off at the front door before parking.”

“I’ll get them,” Sam volunteered and after setting the food on the table Bobby had been using, hurried to the door, and got the propane bottles inside. He carried two down into the basement.

“This will get a little more warmth in here for us,” Sam told Dean as he switched out the tank on the heater and ignited it. He held his hand in front of it then turned it down a little. “This should be enough to keep you warm,” Sam said. “I’ll be back down with food in just a minute.”

Sam glanced up at the doorway. Oh, hell, he was being foolish. But he couldn't help it.

He crossed the distance over to Dean and stuck his tongue practically down the elder man's throat and groped him through his jeans. He pulled away when he heard movement upstairs and grinned at his brother. He stole another quick kiss and then hurried back upstairs to Jim’s side. He forced his stupid grin off his face. He knew he was mostly giddy with being so fucking hungry he was ready to eat damned near anything put in front of him. If Jim hadn't gotten here with the steaks he would be diving into the ice chest of deli sandwiches right now.

Hah. Who was he kidding? If Jim wasn't here, he would say screw food. He'd rather screw Dean.

Sam sank into the nearest chair resting his forehead on his palm. Okay, he was a whole lot hungrier and more tired than he realized. He was getting slaphappy.

“How is,” Jim paused a moment, hesitating, “how is your brother?”

Sam’s gaze cut to the good pastor. He had to bite back the absurd response--Unfucking believable in bed--his exhausted mind wanted to make. Instead he asked, “You believe me?”

“I have had quite a bit of time to think about it. I believe it is possible. I believe that you believe it, and it would explain the connection you two have apparently shared through the years. You spoke of “bonding” with him. Care to elaborate?”

Sam dug into the first container he came to. A roll. That was good. He bit into the steaming, buttery roll and groaned in delight. He had to get some calories into him before his giddy mind said something beyond idiotic. He devoured the roll in just a handful of seconds.

"Sam?" Jim asked patiently.

Sam smiled weakly. "Sorry, Jim. I'm just really hungry. Uh, well, I’ve convinced him he is my brother. We’ve reached some level of peace about a lot of things. I can get close to him without worry of him trying to kill me at this point.”

“Sam!” Jim began, horrified.

“Jim," Sam scoffed, "think about it. I’m the only reason he's still alive, or at least, not you and Bobby’s test subject.”

Jim considered a moment and nodded.

“If either of you came in and he had hurt me or even killed me? Not the most prudent action to take to stay alive. So trust me when I say, he won’t hurt me. Not at this point in time anyhow.” Sam pulled out one of the cups of coffee and after putting some crème and sugar into it took a sip. “Damn, that’s good.”

"He could hold you hostage," Jim pointed out.

Sam shrugged and nodded. "Yes. I suppose he could." Refocusing on Jim, Sam said, “Jim, I'm not being fool-hardy. I know he did terrible things to Dad. I know he has done a lot of terrible things to a lot people. On a guess, he is still under orders to kill you and Bobby and Dad. He won’t confirm that because he told me if he answered any of my questions, his boss would know. He’s terrified of this damned demon boss. Somehow I intend to find out its name and I intend to save Dean from it.” Sam rested his hand on the old hunter’s shoulder.

“I know he is still a danger, and I'm keeping that well in mind. I'm NOT a ten year old who doesn't know how to defend himself, and I am not letting the fact he is my brother blind me to the fact he is their soldier first and my brother second. Have some faith in me Jim. But I will save him, and when I do, he’s going to have to learn to live among humans instead of demons. I need you and Bobby to help me. I’m just asking that you treat him like a human. Don’t trust him, but don’t treat him like some evil thing that’s crawled out of the dark. Don’t treat him like he’s evil. He’s been made into a weapon and right now, he is being used as a weapon against us. If he doesn’t answer a question, he expects to be beaten. If you make a mistake, he may well try to take advantage of it. But please, Jim, you said love could win him over. Can you try to show him forgiveness and kindness?”

Jim stared into those puppy dog eyes that Sam could win damned near anyone over with. Reluctantly, and with a long suffering sigh, he agreed.

Sam grinned at the pastor. “Okay, let’s go eat. You take the food. I’ll grab one of these folding tables and another chair.”

Sam followed after Jim, awkwardly carrying the table down the steep stairs. He was pleased to notice the room felt a little warmer already.

Jim helped Sam get the table set up and they spread the food out across the table. Sam quickly cut up one of the steaks with his pocket knife then turned.

“Pastor Jim Murphy, meet Dean Winchester, my brother. Dean, meet Jim, a long time friend of the family.”

Sam almost laughed at the look the two gave each other. Sam carried the container with the cut up steak over to Dean and handed it to him, easily within Dean’s reach. He saw Dean’s clear disapproval. He saw similar disapproval on Jim’s face. Too bad. He grabbed one of the drinks, a cup of coffee, and the bowl of chicken noodle soup and carried it over to Dean as well. “Only eat what you can. I don’t want to have to clean up any more vomit,” Sam said softly as he handed those to Dean and backed away, returning to the table beside Jim and settling down, facing Dean. He didn't waste any time digging into the hot meal.

Dean could tell the younger man wasn’t all that pleased with his observation, but that was just too bad really. The sooner Sam realized that he couldn’t trust his “friends” any more than Sam could trust him, the better off the younger man would be. Hate and fear were emotions that could always be counted on more than any other. Things like loyalty… love… were often illusions and fleeting illusions at best. Real loyalty was only won through power and through fear. Fear that could also fuel betrayal.

He had little doubt that the latter is what would happen once the hunters learned of Sam’s special abilities, of the demon blood he had flowing through his veins. That was why Dean needed to show Sam how to control his powers as soon as possible. So Sam could hide his abilities, and also to protect himself from his “friends” as well as the demons who might come after him. Some of them to finish Dean’s job and take Sam to his father. But others who would realize what Sam really was and hate him, like they hated Dean, and would come to kill him.

Dean wasn’t going to let any of those things happen. If he had to kill Sam’s “friends” in order to protect him, he wouldn’t hesitate. Dean hadn’t hesitated killing Dumah, though his own life had been threatened as well, he wouldn’t hesitate sending any other demon back to hell that tried to take Sam away from him. Sam was his, and he didn’t care how dangerous his thoughts right now were. He wasn’t going to let another demon touch Sam.

Though sooner or later Dean knew his father would come for Sam. If all others failed, Azazel would come himself to find the younger man. To find Dean… A shiver ran down the young man’s spine before he could stop it. Yes, he was afraid of Azazel, and for good reason. All demons feared him. All demons obeyed him. His father wanted Sam, and would have him. There was nothing Dean could do about it. But maybe…

Azazel had many children. Dean had tested many of them himself. He’d seen dozens of them crumble underneath the same training Dean himself had gone through. He’d watched them kill each other and then destroy themselves. None of them were as strong as Dean, that was why he was his father’s favorite… until Sam. None of them, not even Dean, had the kind of power that Dean sensed within Sam. Maybe… maybe enough to rival Azazel’s own.

Dangerous thoughts. Very dangerous.

Dean was glad for the distraction when he heard the footsteps coming down the stairs to the basement. Watching as the younger man changed out the propane tank for the heater and nodding when Sam said he’d be back with food. Dean had to admit he was quite hungry by now, not having had anything but that one hamburger Sam had fed him… yesterday? Had it only been yesterday? He wasn’t sure. So much seemed to have happened it seemed so much longer.

Dean couldn’t help but grin when the younger man came over to him, kissing him deeply, and Dean eagerly sucked on Sam’s tongue the younger man stuck down his throat as his brother palmed his dick through his jeans. Making him hungry for something other than food by the time the younger man pulled away again and went back upstairs, presumably for the promised dinner.

He was still grinning when Sam returned, at least until he saw the other hunter come with Sam and Dean’s smile quickly turned to a frown. All but scowling as Sam took the opportunity to “introduce” them to each other. He didn’t bother to hide his disdain, just as the older hunter didn’t bother to hide his contempt or distrust. At least they had that in common.

Dean only frowned more when Sam came over to him with his food, well within his reach of his chains with the other hunter watching. The younger man obviously completely ignoring his earlier words of warning regarding his “friends”, but there was nothing Dean could really say or do. Or more correctly, nothing Dean was willing to do. So he only sighed heavily as he took the food from the younger man. Watching the other hunter with narrowed eyes the entire time until Sam moved away from him, and then Dean proceeded to ignore the pastor completely, concentrating on his food instead.

Starting with the soup and then moving to the steak with all the fixings. Though he forced himself to eat slowly, even though he was starving, he didn’t want to overdo it like Sam suggested. Considering how ill he’d been not long ago eating too quickly only to have it come back up just as quickly was not a pleasant thought in the least.

Sam forced himself to stop short of stuffing himself, but the meal had been outstanding. Dean was still slowly eating his, having hardly finished the soup and was just starting on the steak. Sam gave a soft burp and almost wished he had followed his own advice and eaten more slowly. It felt really good to have a full stomach though. He knew he would feel even better with a shower and some sleep in a real bed. Looking at Dean's living conditions he felt a pang of both regret and guilt. He had so wanted Dean to agree to the promise he had asked. Then he and his brother could be headed to the motel, they could shower, and curl up together and sleep for hours. Even with the sleep he had gotten laying next to Dean, he still felt bone tired.

But sleep wasn't really an option and Sam knew it. Bobby had been with his father for awhile at this point, and Sam ought to go relieve him. A shower first though. He absolutely needed a freaking shower. After the shower he would head to the hospital. Even though a soft bed was tempting, even more than feeling his duty to relieve the older hunter from sitting sentinel, he really needed to talk with his dad about his "abilities." He wanted to discuss his theories and see what his father thought and if John maybe had additional insight. He wasn't sure yet if he wanted to tell his father he was going to have Dean teach him how to wield them. Sam didn't think any of the three hunters would approve of that, but Dean was right that Sam had to learn to control them before he hurt someone and Dean was the only teacher available.

Sam's attention turned to the pastor who was finishing up his own meal.

"Jim, if we're going to stay here, and if we're going to keep Dean here, think we might be able to get some hot water going? Maybe we could even rig up one of those camping shower things for Dean? There's a drain in the floor for the water to go down."

Jim looked up from his meal, first meeting Sam's gaze then glancing over to the man who had nearly killed him. Sam's innocent belief in good had always endeared the young boy to Jim. Jim couldn't deny that the killer in chains was certainly calmer and apparently less the demonic man. Certainly both he and the man held a common disdain for one another, but he had been surprised by the disapproving look he had seen in the man's eyes when Sam had given him food and drink. There wasn't the burning hatred that had been in the man's green eyes not so very long ago, but rather a look that told Sam he was making a mistake and being foolish. The same look that had probably been on Jim's own face. There was no doubt the man was a predator, and there was no doubt that he was biding his time no matter what Sam thought. Jim also wondered if it wasn’t best to continue to let the man believe the only reason he was alive was because of Sam. If Sam was determined to try to win his brother back, best Dean consider Sam indispensible.

Camping shower. Plastic bag to hold the water, plastic tubing for the water run through, frame to hold everything up. And was Sam nuts?

Jim held his tongue for a moment, deciding best how to answer that request. Although Sam had asked him, and he had agreed, to try to show some forgiveness to Dean, the images of John Winchester in the hospital room, fighting to live, was a major hurdle to that. If he accepted Dean was Sam's brother, then Dean was John's son, and John would be asking the same of Jim, even after what bastard had done. Sam was like a nephew to him and John like a brother. That meant this…person…in chains was family too. He slowly shook his head and his eyes came back to Sam.

"No camping shower, Sam," Jim told him firmly. He brought his gaze back to the man whom he knew was watching him under hooded eyelids. "But I'll see if we can't get some hot water so he can bathe in something other than the frigid tap water. Bobby was the one who got the water turned on. This church probably has a boiler system for heating and hot water, but Bobby and I will find some way to make your brother more comfortable." Jim paused, eyeing the only two blankets Dean had. The emergency blanket wasn't half bad but the other one was pretty pathetic. "I have a sleeping bag in the trunk. I'll bring that in for him. And you need to get going. Some shut eye would do you some good."

Sam smiled his thanks to Jim. "I'm going to shower, but then I'm going to go see Dad and relieve Bobby. I'm sure Bobby is ready to get some sleep, himself."

Jim knew better than to try to argue with a Winchester over trivial matters so he didn't push. He was pleased that Sam wanted to go see his father. It was such a shame it took trauma of this magnitude to get the Winchesters talking again.

Jim climbed to his feet. "I'll go get the sleeping bag." He waved at the mostly empty Styrofoam containers on the table. "You do the dishes."

Sam began picking up the trash but as soon as Jim was out of earshot, he went to Dean's side and squatted down, running his hand gently over Dean's short hair. "I've got to go for awhile. Please, Jim and Bobby both mean a lot to me. I've asked them to be civil to you. Please, will you try to do the same? For me?"

Dean didn’t particularly care that the two men talked about him like he wasn’t even in the room. He didn’t particularly want to be included in the conversation to begin with. Content to be ignored, except for a few brief glances both hunters cast his way, while he ate his food.

He wasn’t surprised to hear the older man refuse Sam’s request to give him a camping shower, Dean thought the younger man was a little foolish to even bring it up in the first place. Though when the pastor agreed to at least try to get him some hot water to bathe in, that surprised Dean more than a little. Especially considering it was such a trivial comfort. He could wash himself just as easily in cold water. It made no real difference.

Dean looked up with a raised eyebrow when the older hunter, without prompting, went on to offer to give him a sleeping bag. As though the mattress and blankets he already had wasn’t already better than he was used to most of the time.

He looked back to his food rather quickly when Sam mentioned going to see his “Dad” rather than going to the motel to rest as the other hunter suggested. John Winchester. The man Dean had tortured. Sam’s father, and by extension, if Dean believed Sam was really his brother, his father… The idea didn’t sit very well with him, and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though he felt anything for the man, even if he was his “father”. He didn’t consider that man anything to him. Whatever blood he might share with him, Azazel’s blood ran stronger through his veins. That was something both he and Sam had in common as well, that made them more brothers than mere human blood.

Dean was glad when the older hunter left, not really looking forward to his return despite the “generous” offer. He looked up again when Sam knelt down beside him, enjoying the feel of the younger man’s fingers running through his hair in spite of himself. Leaning a little into the touch with a sigh even as he frowned a little at Sam’s request.

Civil.

The last time he’d considered himself “civil” towards a hunter, other than Sam of course, was giving the man a relatively quick and clean death. Dean was quite certain that’s not what the younger man had in mind of course.

“For you. For now.” Dean finally agreed softly.

"Thank you," Sam said, running his hand along Dean's jaw, brushing Dean's bruised cheek with his thumb. Bruises he had given Dean and Dean had forgiven him for. Just as he had forgiven Dean for the the rake of hellhound claws down his chest. Sam kissed Dean firmly then stood, wincing a little at the soreness inside of him that Dean had caused. He hated that he had to leave Dean alone. Hated the thought that Dean would be defenseless if another demon attacked. There simply wasn't any other choice. He couldn't trust Dean with a weapon. Dean had told him so himself. With Jim there, and the additional precautions taken, both men should be safe. He hoped.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

Reluctantly, Sam headed up the stairs, pausing at the top to stare back down at his brother. Clenching his jaw, he made himself leave, pausing only long enough to get the motel key and directions to the motel from Jim, then giving Jim a "be careful" before he exited the church.

The new motel was almost as close as the first one, but was south rather than north of the church. It was in a better neighborhood and the parking lot had a collection of much newer and nicer cars than had been at the old one. When Sam pulled into a parking spot he paused, intensely scanning the area. He was not going to get caught off guard again. With a soft snort, he knew he was already beat to hell, bruised in more places than he could count and he did not need any more surprises.

Seeing no one around, Sam quickly grabbed his things and got inside the room. The salt lines were intact and Bobby or Jim had taped down the blanket at the front door that had a devil's trap printed on it. A quick search of the room confirmed to Sam that he was alone and no one had apparently been in. He eyed the bed longingly but instead of acting on his desire, headed into the bathroom and got the shower started. He disrobed as quickly as his abused body would let him, stripped off his bandages, and stepped into the shower.

He stood under its gentle spray, soaking up the relaxing warmth and letting it seep into his bones. So much had happened in such a very short time he felt as if the weight of the world was borne on his shoulders. The absence of Dean was a sharp ache. How had he grown so needy of Dean in such a short time? Was it because that for so long Dean had been nothing but a ghost Sam could never hope to ever be with and now he knew better? Now he had touched that scarred flesh, had tasted those sweet lips, had felt Dean inside of him.

What if Dean was just playing him? What if…

Had it only been a few days ago that he had stared at the man, chained to a chair, and threatened him with torture? Then a mere day later he had kissed the man and found something burning inside him that went against all common sense. Half a day ago he…lost his virginity to his older brother. And about two hours ago he realized he had more demon in him than the long lost brother reared by demons.

He remembered the feral need he had seen in the elder man eyes when they made love. He remembered the pain-filled emotional eyes that spoke volumes to him in ways words never could. They had never needed to talk to know what the other was feeling. Dean…loved him. Dean always had. And he had always loved Dean. The physical manifestation of that deep love wasn't a surprise, not really, not now that they could be there for each other and protect each other. But Dean was as readily shackled by his demonic overseer as he was by the iron chains he begged Sam not to release him from. Dean was not messing with his head. But Dean also was unable to choose Sam over that demon bastard. He was that demon's slave and that was why Sam could not trust him. Fear trumped love. For now.

He needed to get to his father.

Shaking off the thoughts of his brother, he quickly finished his shower and got dressed. He recovered his stitches that he shouldn't have gotten wet but had anyhow, and bandaged his other few wounds that really needed the protection. With a glance outside to ensure no one was around, he slipped out the door, got into the Impala and headed to the hospital.

The past few days John Winchester felt like he’d slept more than he’d had his whole life. At first barely even remembering when he was awake, and when he was it was usually only for a few minutes at that. He didn’t know whether that had to do with the drugs the doctors were pumping into him, or because it was simply too much an effort to remain awake while his injured body slowly recovered.

Most likely a mixture of both, but at least he was able to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time now, which pleased him as well as the doctors. He was recovering well, they said, even better than they’d hoped. Though they made it a point to nag him again and again to make sure he took it easy and not stress himself. Probably afraid he’d have another heart attack despite the fact that all the tests showed he was doing much better, and his heart wasn’t under any stress.

The first time he’d woken, after his son had left, Jim had been sitting with him. The pastor giving him a rundown of everything that had happened since Bobby had called him to come help rescue his ass. His old friend also confirming Sam was doing fine, which John had been worried about, though admitting to him that the younger man had been more than a little shaken up by his earlier heart attack. John couldn’t really blame him.

The pastor had also taken the opportunity to chastise him about his six year estrangement from his son. Basically telling him not to be such a stubborn bastard in the future and not to waste this opportunity, despite the circumstances, to heal the rift between him and Sam. John had agreed Jim was right, as he annoyingly usually was, right before falling back into an exhausted sleep.

The next time he’d woken up Bobby had been at his side and John had been surprised to hear it had been almost a full day since the last time he’d woken. The other hunter giving him a quick rundown of pretty much everything that had happened, between Jim’s, Bobby’s, and Sam’s stories he thought he had a pretty good picture of what was going on.

Though when Bobby filled him in about the demon attack on Sam and on the church Bobby had barely managed to convince him to stay in the fucking bed that John almost got out of despite how impossible that sounded. Reassuring him over and over that his son was fine, even though John knew he wouldn’t be completely put at ease until he saw Sam again for himself.

Only the fact that his room got the crappiest cell phone reception kept him from calling the younger man immediately. The other hunter convincing him, more like threatening him, to get some more rest and Sam would be by himself later to check up on him. Though John couldn’t stop thinking about how not only he had been attacked and used as bait to lure Sam out, but Sam had been targeted a second time in less than two days. Demons singling out hunters was one thing, demons singling out one specific hunter… Why would they be going after Sam to begin with, who hadn’t even been a hunter in years? It didn’t make sense.

He fell asleep again, less because of Bobby’s disapproving glare than because he just couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. His dreams offering him no answers, just disturbing images, memories of the torture he’d suffered combined with the even more painful memories of the death of his wife and son.

When John woke again it was to the sound of voices in his room. Not the doctors, he realized when he opened his eyes and turned his head, but Bobby talking to Sam in the doorway, probably giving the younger man an update of his condition before they switched places.

He watched as Bobby left and John offered Sam a slight smile when his son turned to enter the room.

“Hey.” He greeted the younger man as he reached for his bed remote control and used it to help him sit up a bit more.

Sam made one brief stop on the way to the hospital, picking up the candy bar he had promised his father. He felt so much better just being in clean clothes and having had a shower. Considering how his world had come crashing down around him so recently, he was, relatively speaking, feeling halfway decent. Still on emotional overload, yeah, and he knew it was just a matter of time before it all caught up with him. He rather liked keeping his head in the sand as this particular moment in time. If he stopped to think, it would just hurt too damned much. He couldn't even bring himself to call any of his friends to see if any one else important in his life had been killed. He simply didn't want to know. Best just to surround himself with those he could look after in the here and now.

He buzzed to get into ICU. When he reached the door, he saw his father asleep and Bobby half dozing in the chair that he knew from personal experience sucked for sleeping in. His father was looking a lot better and that eased his concern immensely. No matter that Bobby and Jim had both reassured him his father was doing better, he didn't realize just how worried he had been until he felt something in his chest loosen.

Sam crossed over to the old mechanic. "Bobby," Sam said softly.

Bobby opened one eye and looked at him. Bobby kept his voice equally quiet so as not to wake his friend. "Bout time you got here."

"Good to see you too. How's your head?" Sam asked.

"Hurts like a two day hangover instead of a three day hangover. Doc said it's fine, just one helluva lump," Bobby said getting to his feet and stretching. He picked up the prescription beside the chair and slid it into his pocket. He would take another painkiller once he was back at the motel.

"Go get some rest Bobby. I'll be staying awhile," Sam told him and handed over the keys to the Impala and motioned Bobby toward the door.

After taking the keys, Bobby shoved a flask into Sam's hand.

"I don't need a drink," Sam said, furrowing his brow.

"It ain't liquor you idjet. It's holy water," Bobby said.

Dropping the flask into his pocket, Sam walked Bobby to just outside the door. "I asked Jim, and I'm going to ask you. I made some real progress with Dean. I'd like you to try to treat him more like he's human than he's some demon."

"Ain't we been over this once?" Bobby asked.

Sam gave a nod. "Yeah, but I've learned a lot from him in the past hours. I'm still processing it all, and I want to talk with Dad about it. Just, don't ask him any questions about his orders. If he doesn't answer, and he won't because he said his boss will know, he expects to be beaten or punished. Please, Bobby, will you try?"

Bobby glared at Sam. "After what he did to your daddy—"

"He had his orders," Sam interrupted. "And he didn't have any reason to fight them. He does, now. Bobby, I know he can be brutal. He was ungodly brutal, but I need him Bobby. I need my brother. If we believe in him, and his boss is dead, he can change. I know he can. And that brings me to another question. Any ideas how to kill a demon?"

Bobby scratched his beard and gave a sigh. "All right. You're a lunatic, but both you damned Winchesters are lunatics. I'll try to be civil-like to him. As for taking out a demon, I got a feeling my little mojo juice might do the trick."

Sam thought back to how his own blood reacted. Yeah. Bobby was probably right. "Good. Then we need to figure out a delivery system that demonic powers can't brush aside."

"One miracle at a time," Bobby snorted.

"How's Dad doing?" Sam asked, glancing in at his father. It looked like his dad was beginning to stir.

"Doing good for the most part. Worried as hell about you. 'Tween Jim and I, he's pretty much up to date on the happenings. He's still sleeping a lot. Docs say they might move him out of ICU in a couple more days so long as he doesn't have any set backs. With the heart attack and all the trauma he suffered, they just want to keep him in here a bit longer."

"Thanks, Bobby. When you head to the church after you've gotten some rest, you might want to pick up some ice for those sandwiches I bought. And I asked Jim to try to get us some hot water in the church."

"We got our coffee pot and camping stove. What else we need?" Just how soft had the boy become that he couldn't wash his hands and face in cold water for Chrissakes?

"If we're keeping Dean chained up down there for who know how long, we ought to give him some hot water to be able to wash off with." Sam braced himself for Bobby's explosion at the suggestion. He was shocked when Bobby gave him a hard stare and sighed.

Grumbling under his breath, Bobby rolled his eyes. Hell, he would appreciate the hot water as well he supposed and it wouldn't be that hard to do. And his head just hurt too much to argue with the boy anymore. Sam was determined and a determined Winchester was impossible to dissuade from his goal. "All right, I'll get a small water heater we can hook up to one of the faucets, but don't you be asking for a god-damned shower or something for him."

Sam grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "Of course not," Sam said innocently. "You're a saint."

"Yeah. St. Robert. That's me," Bobby muttered. "Crazy is more like it. Look after your old man, Sam." With a yawn, Bobby headed out of the ICU.

Sam turned to find his father's dark eyes watching him and returned his smile. "Hey, yourself."

As Sam crossed over to him, Sam reached in his pocket and pulled out the candy bar. "King-sized. Like I promised." He handed his father the Snickers bar. He felt suddenly awkward, too much in his brain wanting to come out all at once. The last time he spilled his guts, his father reacted badly. He better take this slow. If his dad had reacted so badly to learning his eldest son was alive, how was he going to react to learning his youngest son had demon blood in him?

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, not sure how else to start the conversation he needed to have. If his Dad was feeling bad, maybe he had best just keep the truth to himself for now.

John couldn’t help but laugh softly when his son pulled out the candy bar from his pocket that he’d promised him. Taking the king sized Snicker’s bar from the younger man gratefully he pulled part of the wrapper off right away and took a bite with a small groan of pleasure. Already having had more than enough of the damned hospital food than he could stand.

“Just what I needed, this hospital food is going to kill me before anything else.” The elder man joked with a slight grin, before answering his son seriously. “Better. Sore as hell when the drugs wear off, but I’ll live, don’t worry.”

From what Bobby and Jim had been telling him, he was the least thing Sam should be worrying about right now. Jim had filled him in about what had happened to Sam’s friend and his girlfriend, and afterwards John recalled bits and pieces of Sam telling him the same. Must have been right before his second… or was it third, brush with death.

There had been something else too. Something about the… man… they’d captured and were holding prisoner. The man who’d tortured him, who had powers only a demon should possess. Between the demon thing they had locked in the basement of the church they were holed up in and the attack on Sam, John knew he was rightly worried about his son.

Bobby had been a bit sketchy about the details of the attack, but John assumed the demons had come to rescue one of their own, as odd as that seemed. But John still didn’t understand why his son would be a target in the first place, first at the mill and then in the parking lot of a motel.

“How are you doing? Bobby told me about what happened at the church.”

"I'm still…it's still a lot to take in," Sam admitted. "I'm okay. Mostly."

The church. Bobby didn't know shit about what happened at the church, not really. He didn't know the demon nearly choked the life out of Sam. Didn't know a lot of things.

His father looked well, had decent color, seemed in good spirits, but painkillers would do that. Sam decided to plunge forward, but this time he would watch his father closely and if his father looked like it was too much, Sam would back off. Sam pulled the chair up to his father's bedside.

"Yeah. The church. The demon was torturing Dean when I got there. Threw me up against the wall, was choking me and I blacked out. Dean broke free of it because…" Sam wasn't entirely certain, but he thought he recalled feeling a flash of power before he passed out. What ever he did, it apparently let Dean get free. "…well he broke free of the demon's powers and killed it, saving me, saving Bobby, saving himself."

He paused, seeing the confusion in his father's eyes. Crap, hadn't Bobby or Jim told him about Dean? That Dean was John's son? Of course not. They hardly believed it themselves and they knew that information was in part what triggered John's heart attack in the first place. He was going to have to explain and see how his father handled it this time before he told John the news that was just really going to freak him out beyond anything.

"The man we have in the church is Dean, Dad. Our Dean. My brother. Your son. I told you right before you had the…heart attack, but I guess you don't remember. Dean was kidnapped by a demon, raised by it. The thing did something, put demon blood into Dean and that gives Dean his abilities." He saw the pain of the terrible knowledge crease John's face.

"You couldn't have known, Dad." Sam rested his hand on his father's arm and squeezed gently. "You can't blame yourself. It's not your fault. There was absolutely no reason to think Dean was kidnapped, that he didn't die in that fire like Mom did." The look in his father's eyes told Sam that his father still blamed himself and Sam didn't think anything he could say would ever change it.

Sam chewed on his lip a minute. Should he tell him? Was it going to be too much? Should Sam tell his father that he had dreamed about his brother for as long as he could remember? That the terrible scar he bore on his back was from Dean's and his inexplicable bond? That not just Dean had demon in him?

If he was going to drop any kind of bomb on his father, it was best to drop the one most salient to their current situation. Sam's current situation. That was the one he most needed help with. The other shit could wait for another day.

"Dad," Sam finally said, "it…it did something to me too I guess. Unless you never told me we had a demon in the family," Sam joked weakly. His voice dropped almost to a whisper as he hesitantly continued. "I…have abilities. I have demon blood in me, too. And I think that's why they're after me. They're trying to take me to some demon. I think the same one that kidnapped Dean. I'm scared, Dad. I'm really scared," Sam finished softly struggling to hold back his tears. He wanted to ask his dad so many things, but he had no idea where to start or if his father, whom he always considered nearly infallible when it came to knowledge about the Supernatural, would know the answers this time.

John nodded slightly. Though he wasn’t quite sure he believed his son when Sam said he was “OK.” Pretty sure the younger man was only telling him what he thought he wanted to hear, but willing to let it go for now. Considering all the time they’d been apart, not to mention how often they’d been at odds even when they’d been together, he couldn’t really blame Sam for not wanting to confide in him.

That didn’t mean John wasn’t going to be there if Sam ever decided to change his mind. He was determined to do things right this time. John knew he had a lot to make up for, he could only hope that Sam would give him a chance to.

John Winchester was a man who liked to believe he was prepared for just about anything. So when Sam started to talk about what happened at the church, at first he didn’t so much as blink. But when his brain caught up with his ears and John did a double take.

The demon was torturing… Dean… Just hearing his oldest son’s name still caused him pain even after all these years, but hearing it applied to that… man… sent alarm bells ringing in his head that John didn’t want to examine at all. A cold sick feeling already forming in his stomach before Sam pushed on confirming what his mind was already trying to deny without even acknowledging. Dean… his son… that man… He did remember. Now. The horrible painful truth Sam had revealed to him before that his heart literally couldn’t take. His son… dear god…

John barely felt Sam’s hand on his arm. Barely heard the younger man’s reassurances that he couldn’t have known, that he couldn’t blame himself for not having saved his boy, for not having even looked for him… merely given him up as dead, to a demon… His wife killed, his son stolen… stolen and turned into that… thing… and John had never tried to find him. Who else was to blame? Who?

If he’d thought nothing could have hit him harder, when Sam went on to say that the demon… did something to him. That Sam had the same abilities as… Dean… Why they, the demons, were after his son. Both his… sons… Dear god… But no matter what he felt, confusion, horror, pain, it was nothing compared to the fear he saw in his younger son’s eyes now looking at him, pleading. Looking at him in a way John hadn’t seen in years. His son needed him. Needed his father.

John pushed down the guilt that was eating him alive. Pushed down the pain that felt like it was crushing his heart to dust. Pushed down the confusion and the mind numbing fear Sam’s revelation had built in him. John covered his son’s hand on his arm with his own. Determination flashing in his eyes.

“We’ll figure this out, Sam. I promise. No matter what, you’re still my son. Nothing changes that. Nothing.” Even if it were true, even if a demon had done something to his boy, no matter what Sam was still his son. His… son… Dean… If possible the elder man’s eyes grew even more determined.

“Sam, I want you to page the doctor and see if you can get me some clothes.” John said even as he started pulling the various sensors and monitors off him. He’d sat here on his ass long enough. His son… sons… needed him.

For just a moment Sam thought that his Dad was going to just crumple in on himself. Again. That the heart monitor was going to go off and the nurses and doctors would be in, and Sam would be left alone again, watching, helpless, as his father battled death. He would be left alone to fend off the demons, try to learn from Dean quickly, and try to protect both of them—and Jim and Bobby—from the attacks that were sure to come.

When he saw John stiffen, straighten, and put his hand on Sam's, the breath rushed out of him. The determination in his father's eyes heartened him more than he thought anything could. Still his son…had he been afraid that maybe his father would turn away from him, now, when he so desperately needed him? Hell they couldn't stop their head-butting before when there were no complicating factors. But Sam had been a teen and he had matured a lot. He didn't just blow up at the littlest things his father said. Well, maybe he would, but they would work through it. He didn't want to lose his father. Not now. He needed him so much. Almost as much as he needed Dean…

Eyes widening at John made his intentions known, Sam shook his head. "Dad, you can't leave. Not yet. You're in ICU for God's sake. You just had a heart attack. You've still got second degree burns that are healing, stitches down in your muscles, and they're feeding you straight antibiotics through the IV. You've got broken or at least cracked bones. Please Dad, at least stay until they're ready to move you to a regular room!" Sam pleaded. "We can start here, just as easily as at the motel or church."

Why had he told his father? Why hadn't he told Bobby or Jim? His dad shouldn't be worrying like this. He should be sleeping and getting better, not trying to walk out of the damned hospital. But Sam knew why. Because he did need to know that his father would stand by him, that his father would help him. Because he was really scared when Dean taught him how to wield his powers that he might like it a little too much. That he might become the sort of thing that hunters hunted. That he might go as darkside as Dean. How could he save his brother if he fell into the same damned pit? …And what would the elder hunters—his father included—say when they found out Dean was going to teach him?

John wasn’t all that surprised when Sam started to protest, trying to change his mind about leaving the hospital now because of his condition. He’d been prepared for them, and had been fully prepared to counter his son’s arguments with his own. But when Sam started to list off all his various injuries John couldn’t help but wince slightly.

Injuries his own… son… had caused him. Dean… his four year old boy who’s death he’d mourned for the last twenty years. Instead kidnapped by a demon… raised by a demon… His sweet little boy turned into that… thing…

The elder man didn’t want to think about it and at the same time h couldn’t stop thinking of it. He didn’t want to remember that man’s face and equate it with his boy’s. Didn’t want to remember the pain Dean had caused him, had enjoyed causing him. Laughing as he threatened to cut him into little pieces while he was still breathing as bait to capture his own brother.

He’d failed Dean in the worst possible way twenty years ago. He’d failed Sam nearly as badly all of his younger son’s life. Until a few days ago he would have sworn Sam hated him and wouldn’t have cared to see him dead, but Sam had come after him. Was here now. Needed him, and god damn it he was going to be there for his boys for once in his life.

But right now Sam was begging him not to leave the hospital and deep down he knew the younger man was right. Despite his stubbornness he probably wouldn’t have been able to walk out of this room much less the hospital under his own power. If he left and complications arose, even something as simple as an infection could easily kill him right now. He would be no use to anyone if he was dead.

With a sigh, John relented and relaxed back against the pillows of his bed though his expression was anything but happy.

“All right.” John agreed with a heavy sigh, his mind racing, trying to figure out what he could do, if anything from here. Well, one thing was for certain, sooner or later more demons would be coming. Either for Dean, or Sam, or both of them.

“You need to get… Dean… out of that church. It’s not safe there. If the demons know where he is, where you are, you have to leave. Even if it’s only a few towns over. It will be safer for both of you.”

Sam was relieved to see his father back down and agree to stay in the hospital. More than just relieved, almost shocked. Either his father was feeling so much worse than Sam wanted to believe, or the four years of training to be a lawyer had paid off. He suspected it was the former.

Moving Dean though? That was going to be a problem. Not like they could take him in chains to a motel. Well, they could if they were really careful. Maybe. They could handcuff him to the bed or something. It looked like the shackles were overkill. Then again, he had slipped handcuffs once. Maybe handcuff the chains to the bed and leave him in the shackles? They would have to move any potential weapons out of his reach. Unless Sam could convince Bobby and Jim to let him take care of Dean on his own. Yeah. Right. Fat chance of that.

His father was right, though Sam wasn't really sure it would matter where they moved to unless they went on the run. Even that was no guarantee. If the demons got a hold of his father again, Sam would be back in the same situation Dean had put him in.

He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated with the options. All of them sucked. Let Dean out of his chains and he would potentially go after Jim, Bobby, and his father. Sam would be safe…until Dean had killed the elder hunters and decided it was time to take Sam to this Demon master of his. Stay at the church, which was reasonably well fortified but since they had to leave to go to the motel and the hospital, each trip increased the likelihood that a demon spotted one of them, if the demons didn't already know where they were. Obviously a couple of them did. He supposed they could just stay holed up in the church. And that option sucked too. Stay in the church for another few weeks until his dad was strong enough to move? And then what? What the hell were they supposed to do?

He knew his father thought Dean was barely human. Every time he hesitated before calling him Dean, it was obvious it was a struggle. Sam couldn't blame him. His father hadn't seen any side of Dean that wasn't almost demonic, but he needed to convince him that his brother wasn't lost to them.

"Dad, Dean has shown me he can be kind and considerate. He's not a monster through and through. …I never told you, but growing up, pretty much for as long as I can remember, I dreamed of a boy. He was a few years older than me and was a prisoner. I would dream about him, be there for him when he was sad and hurt. And he would be here for me when I was sad or hurt. I don't know that I ever thought he was really real. I kind of thought of him as an imaginary friend.

"I don't know if one of the nights I woke up crying, maybe I mentioned him to you. If I did, I don't remember." Sam shrugged, focusing on the floor. He had his own guilt to deal with. "It was Dean, Dad. Maybe if I'd told you about him, hell, even called you in one time he was there…I don't know though, since nobody else seemed to see him. Just like none of the demons saw me when I was with Dean. But if I had just told you about him, you might have known it was Dean. We might have been able to save him.

"When I saw him at the old mill, I recognized him. He recognized me. It's taken us both some time to sort it out, to believe it, but the evidence is pretty indisputable. We've been best friends all our lives. He cares about me. I care about him."

He wasn't sure how his father would react to the next thing he told him, but his dad needed to know, to understand that moving Dean might be a bad idea. "…I was going to let him out of his chains and take him out of the church. I wanted him to promise he wouldn't hurt you or Jim or Bobby before I let him out. He told me even if he promised, I couldn't trust him and he begged me not to unlock him. So I didn't. I don't know if we can safely move him. I don't know if--I don't know what he'll try if we do. And one of us needs to stay with you. You are as much a target as the rest of us."

“Sam…” John had absolutely no idea what to say. How to take what his son was telling him. About that… about Dean… the man who could possibly be his eldest son.

He wanted to believe so badly, but he had to be realistic. One of them had to. He was doubtful, so very doubtful about all of this. It wasn’t just his own feelings of guilt, the memory of the pain and torture that man had put him through, and the idea of the horrors his boy would have faced in the hands of a demon all these years.

He wanted to believe that his son was really alive. That he wasn’t… a monster… the demons had made him into. But it could easily all be a trick. For what purpose, John didn’t know, but what proof did they have that man was really Dean? What proof could Sam have that he wasn’t really a monster?

Kind… there had been nothing kind in that face, in those eyes, that John had been forced to look into for hours while he screamed. He wanted to believe, oh god, he wanted to believe Sam was right. He wanted to see for himself. He wanted to see Dean’s face again, look into those eyes, and see something different. He wanted to see what Sam saw.

But what if it was all a trick? What Sam told him about the boy… a boy Sam had dreamed about… John wasn’t all that surprised anymore about his earlier heart attack. He honestly wasn’t sure how many more shocks he could take right now. Another failure. If Sam had only trusted him enough to tell him about the boy… they might have…

John’s eyes widened when Sam went on to tell him that he’d almost released Dean. How could Sam have taken such a risk! If it had all been a trick, a trap, then Sam could be dead or worse by now. But the elder man’s anger and fear over what Sam had nearly done was tempered by the shock when his son went on to tell him that Dean had begged Sam not to release him. John could think of no real advantage to such a strategy.

Dear god. John closed his eyes, took a deep breath to try to center himself. Tried to stop his thoughts from wildly running out of control. Sam had told him now. Sam trusted him enough now, and that was something he never had before. The least he could do was trust Sam in return. If Sam said there was proof, if Sam said Dean wasn’t a monster…

“All right.” John said, running his hand through his hair trying to think of options. If they couldn’t move Dean, and there was a good chance the demons already knew or would find out soon where they were, the only other option really was to turn that church in to a veritable fortress.

“What kinds of protections are already in place at the church? Whatever hasn’t been done, do it. Look for any protection spells or symbols you can. There’s plenty to start with in my journal. It was in the glove box of my truck. If you can’t find it I’m sure Bobby and Jim can come up with plenty on their own.

“Once that’s done, I think it would be best for the time being if you stayed there. Don’t leave the church except when absolutely necessary. They came after me to get to you, you’re obviously their main target, we don’t need to give them extra chances to paint a bull’s eye on you. Bobby and Jim can take turns coming here if they need to, but I don’t want you to worry about me. Some etchings and protection symbols in this room might not be a bad idea though.

“We might also want to start calling other hunters. Warning them if they don’t already know about the demons targeting them. A few extra hunters who might be willing to stay in the area and watch out for demon activity wouldn’t hurt either if you can convince any of them.”

Sam nodded at his father's suggestion of staying in the church. It did sound the most reasonable. It would also give Dean time to teach Sam how to control his powers. He thought that might be a little much for his father to learn about right now and decided to just keep that to himself. He was most afraid his dad would tell him "no", and he didn't want to go against his father's wishes. Dean was right, he suspected. He would hurt someone if he didn't at least learn to control it. Besides, he could tell that his news had his father reeling.

If he was staying in the church he could use a cot, though frankly, he would probably sleep with Dean on that nasty mattress if Jim and Bobby weren't around. Maybe he could find a better mattress for them. Air mattresses. That was the answer. And he would like a camp shower for himself if possible. He was glad he asked for them to get some hot water in the place. Okay so he needed to hit some stores and do some major stocking up on supplies if he was going to be stuck in that church for a week or more. Better pick up some more clothes too. And blankets. And propane. And food…

Sam listed off what they had done at the church so far and was pleased by the approval he saw in his father's eyes. Funny how a week ago he probably wouldn't have cared. But right here, right now, it meant a lot to him.

"Bobby got your truck and hid it away. Figured it might be something of a target. I'll have him get your journal, and he probably has more runes and sigils in his head than ten of your journals."

More hunters. Hell, he didn't know any hunters anymore. Well, he knew a few, but didn't have any of their numbers. Calling in hunters would be up to Jim and Bobby to handle.

He had enough runes and sigils in his own memory that he could get started on his father's room, drawing small, discreet things on the walls, around the windows, and the door frame. What he didn't remember, his father could help him with. And his father could probably help him put together a shopping list. He had several hours before Jim would come to relieve him. He didn't like the idea he wouldn't be able to see his father for a couple weeks. Well, dammit, he could call him though. And he would.

"Dad," Sam said, getting started on putting some very small runes along the window frame, small enough he didn't think the nurses or cleaning folk would readily notice, "no matter how this all plays out, I'm glad we had a chance to see each other again. I know when you're better we'll probably back at each other's throat." He gave his father a smirk. "Bobby says we're too much a like. And no, this isn't some 'final goodbye speech.' I'm just saying we …we took too long to burying the hatchet. You never even got to meet my… girlfriend. I was going to invite you to the wedding." He swallowed hard. "If we get pissed at each other again, let's not take so long to get over it this next time, okay? Let's both just suck it up and put it behind us. After we've cooled down for a few weeks. Just try to remember, I'm not a kid anymore."

Sam gave him another smile before he went back to work. He had long hours ahead of him, getting his father protected and discussing supplies and strategies with him. And he made himself promise he would try not to argue with his father.

John was pleased when Sam didn’t argue with his suggestion of staying in the church, from past experience he’d almost been expecting some kind of argument or protest. When was the last time he remembered Sam simply agreeing to do what he said without questioning him, even if it was for the younger man’s own good?

He was glad to hear that his truck was ok. He’d put a lot of time and money into it as well as the weapons in it. It would have been difficult to replace everything. If they hadn’t already, they should take some of those weapons and put them in the church, hopefully the extra firepower wouldn’t be needed but just in case. John had to chuckle softly and nod in agreement that his journal probably wouldn’t be necessary with Bobby around.

He watched Sam as he started drawing a few protection symbols around the room, starting with the window. Listening as his son spoke. Almost wanting to interrupt because though Sam denied it that’s exactly what it sounded like, like his son wasn’t expecting to see him again when he walked out that door. But he didn’t interrupt, he listened. Smiling a little in spite of himself, yeah, he supposed they were probably too much alike. Why they were always butting heads…

Maybe, despite the circumstances, being away from each other for six years had been something of a blessing. No, Sam definitely wasn’t a child anymore. The hot tempered teen he remembered replaced by a man.

John swallowed hard, knowing it would be one of the greatest regrets in his life that he hadn’t been able to meet the woman who might have become his daughter in law. He didn’t want anything like that to ever happen again. He promised himself from now on, one way or another, he’d always be there for Sam… and Dean… He had a second chance. Something most men weren’t lucky enough to get. He wasn’t going to waste it.