Sam quickly drove the car out of town and turned off the main road at first opportunity. He had no idea which direction the other hunter might be coming from, what the other hunter drove, nothing. All Sam could really do was haul ass and pray. He wondered as he often did if God found it amusing to have a half-breed, demonic mongrel or whatever the hell he was, pray.

He glanced over at his ward. Dean was asleep curled up in the seat so damned pretty.

"Give it a rest, Cristo," Sam muttered to himself. He could daydream all he wanted but he wasn't going to take advantage of the hunter unless the hunter seemed interested. The man had a good week or so of recovery, assuming he did recover, and they had to stay ahead of that hunter in the process. Bobby's voice had been older, gruffer. Old hunters meant one thing. They were fucking skilled at what they did. If you weren't good, you were dead. If this Bobby had any experience with vampires, that also put Sam at risk and gave him a higher than normal motivation to keep one step ahead. So why was he, literally, putting his neck on the line for this boy? Because he was just too damned delicious to look at? Was he really that fucking horny?

Sam grinned. Yep. Maybe he was. Wouldn't be the first time. Still, there was something that drew him to the young hunter aside from his looks. Maybe it was his almost innocence. Sam had no doubt Dean was not "innocent" but there was still an air of it about him. And it was as attractive as hell. After all of this, he did rather hope the young man would be willing to give Sam a roll in the hay for his efforts. If he didn't, well, he had one more hunter he could turn to that owed him and that was never a bad thing.

Turning onto the next crossroad, Sam flicked off the lights. He could see perfectly fine in the dark and that would help them slip away that much easier. So where should they run to? He didn't want to take Dean terribly far. Dean was still in pretty rough shape and sleeping curled up in the car wasn't the best thing for him. Dean would do much better recovering in a bed. Houston was a few hours out, but Houston surely had traffic cams and that was the last thing he needed; Bobby catching a break by hacking traffic cams, or putting in a bogus BOLO on the Impala. Dallas was northeast, but he would run into the same thing there. Probably best if he simply stayed on the back roads. There were little towns all through the area.

After a few hours of speeding down random country roads, Sam pulled the car off the side of the road and made sure Dean was still sound asleep. Dean would be getting more alert as he healed so Sam knew he had to take advantage of what time he could to feed.

He paced back the short distance to the cows standing near the fence that had caught his attention. Ah. A calf. That would be an easy kill and easily blamed on a predator. After stripping off his shirt, he jumped over the fence, slowly stalked the small herd, then he struck fast and deadly, the cows making minimal racket at his intrusion. He only drained the calf about half dry. He didn't dare leave a trail, and frankly, he really didn't need that much blood anyhow. He just knew he couldn't afford to waste an opportunity, what with him tending a hunter.

Finished with his meal, he got them back on the road and an hour later pulled into a sleepy little town. The dust coated Impala he pulled around back, out of view of the motel office and the road. He walked into the office and rang the bell.

A sleepy eyed old man stuck his head out a minute later. "Yeah?"

"Need a room," Sam said.

"Single?" the man asked.

Sam hesitated only a moment. If Bobby started calling around, he would check for two men in a double. Sam gave a smile and a nod to the old man. "Yeah."

Dean didn't stir when Sam carefully opened the car door and lifted the injured man into his arms. He carried Dean through the door he had already opened and laid Dean into the turned down bed. He pulled off Dean's shirt and his jeans and placed Dean so he was resting on his stomach. He carefully loosened the bandages and examined the wounds. Some were inflamed but Sam wasn't really surprised. What did bother him was that Dean didn't even rouse as Sam cleaned his wounds, but Dean didn't seem to have a fever. No food or water for three days, half-drained of blood, no, Sam supposed it wasn't terribly atypical. Given another day or two and Dean would probably be back to normal as far as sleeping went. Sam didn't want to dwell on the possibility Dean was drifting into vampiric sleep. All the signs said it wasn't. No fever, strong heart beat, steady breathing. Dean was probably just simply exhausted.

Sam brought in their things and after looking over some maps, decided some more sleep sounded pretty good to him, too. Dean would probably awaken about lunch time and while Sam had learned to stay awake during the day, it was much easier to do so if he were well rested.

Stripping down to a t-shirt and shorts, Sam crawled in beside Dean. He ran light fingers over Dean's body appreciatively but didn't investigate areas he certainly longed to. His fingers ghosted over old scars and traced the nicely defined muscles of his arms and parts of his back not swathed in bandages. Finally, with a final heavy sigh, he scooted away from Dean and let himself fall asleep.

Fuck… how much had he had to drink last night? Enough that he didn’t even remember going to a bar in the first place, much less picking anyone up and bringing them back to his motel room. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up with a stranger in his bed, but he usually avoided it at all costs. One night stands were one thing, but morning after was just too damned complicated.

That’s when the questions like, “So, when can I see you again?” or “Can I call you?” started and quite frankly he’d rather hunt down a pack of werewolves than deal with the puppy teary eyes or the bitchy “bastard” comments chicks were so fond of ditching out when he said, “hell no.” Assuming just because they’d fucked and Dean had forgot to throw them out of his room afterwards it meant he was interested, or they were “dating” now.

Dean didn’t date. Ever.

Maybe if he just went back to sleep for another few hours he’d wake up and they’d already be gone. Sometimes that had worked, but not often. Unfortunately a single shaft of sunlight was slipping through the partly open curtains, falling across his face in just the right way to make it impossible for him to just go back to sleep, instead pushing him more awake, much to Dean’s annoyance.

That’s when he began to notice the weight against his back was a little heavier than he was used to, the body pressed against him more hard muscle than soft curves, and it wasn’t all that comfortable to begin with considering… Dean’s eyes snapped open then, remembering why he felt like shit, the vampires, and… Cristo. Dean managed to push himself up a little and turn his head, confirming that the definitely male body practically snuggled up against him was definitely the other hunter that had rescued him from the vampire nest, but Dean wasn’t sure if that made things better or if it only freaked him out even more.

Why the hell was the other man in bed with him? Was the motel all out of double beds or something? At least he was wearing underwear, but other than that Dean could feel he was naked underneath the sheets and Sam was only wearing a shirt and… that was definitely not a machete in the other man’s pocket pressing against his thigh.

Dean blushed.

Sam was having the nicest dream. Jessica and he were in Paris, in that trashy little dive they lived in for that one year. Jessica occasionally found nice boy-toys in some of the bars and she brought one home now and again for a ménage-a-trois. Her latest was the most handsome green-eyed man Sam had seen in a long time. They wasted little time and got down to business of the finest kind. Jessica was in the throes of the young man's skills and Sam had spooned up to the man, nuzzling his neck and planning to give some thrills to the young man. He pressed his cock up against young man and was about to start rubbing it against him when he felt the man's body stiffen in his arms. Had he done something wrong?

He felt the man's rapid heart beat and heard the extra strong rush of blood through veins. Slowly he opened his eyes to try to discover what had upset the man just as the night was getting interesting.

The smells were all wrong. He smelled antibiotic ointment and blood and sweat. And no Jessica. Of course no Jessica. She was long dead. His eyes came into focus and he saw a blushing Dean staring at him, and that damned cute blush sent blood straight to his cock. There was no doubt that Dean felt the sudden increase in Sam's arousal press harder against him.

Sam was frozen for a moment, torn between wanting to lean forward and taste those blushing lips or retreat and apologize. That Dean was blushing rather than shoving Sam away from him in disgust was something to consider, but if Sam did kiss Dean and Dean freaked out, it would be a long awkward few days.

"Ah, I, uh, guess I should have taken the couch," Sam offered sheepishly, feeling a bit of a blush touch his own cheeks.

Sam’s cock was hot and heavy against his hip, and it seemed to only grow hotter and heavier as every second stretched into an almost painfully awkward eternity. If that wasn’t bad enough, the young man suddenly became aware of his own morning “problem” throbbing insistently against the warm sheets beneath him. Which wasn’t all that odd considering it was morning, well afternoon, and waking up with an erection certainly wasn’t out of the ordinary for any man. Except for the fact that they shouldn’t be in bed together to begin with, it was completely innocent. Awkward as hell, but still innocent… then why didn’t it feel that way?

Dean hadn’t been interested in another man for years. Yes, he’d experimented, and it had been ok to a point, but it hadn’t been great and he’d decided he liked women better and that was it. He hadn’t accepted any other offers from men, and he’d had plenty, for years. He just wasn’t interested, and to be honest, he wasn’t interested in Cristo now either. Nothing against the guy, he certainly wasn’t a dog, he just… hadn’t thought about it.

Now, though, Dean couldn’t not think about it. The way the other hunter was staring at him, not to mention the really impressive boner that was digging into his hip. Why the hell hadn’t he at least moved away? He should at least say something. Sam seemed to be waiting for him to say something.

Dean blinked and he swallowed hard, his mouth opening but no sound wanted to come out. He wasn’t sure he could have spoken even if he knew what he wanted to say. It wasn’t often he was rendered speechless. Course it wasn’t often he woke up with another man, both of them practically naked and hard… Ok, so maybe it had been a while since his last roll in the hay. A few weeks, he’d barely finished his last job when Bobby had called him about the vampire nest, and he was tired, and hurting, and not thinking all that clearly… yeah… he was just stressed. That’s all.

“I should…” Dean coughed and looked away, hating how his cheeks only inflamed more when his voice broke a little. “… um… bathroom….”

Speechless. The man was speechless. Blushing and speechless and so damned much like an innocent young girl passed an extraordinary compliment by a handsome young man that Sam wanted to groan. And dammit Sam really wished Dean would stop blushing instead of growing more and more flushed. The more the blood rushed to Dean's face, the more the blood rushed to Sam's cock. Taking in a deep breath, he could smell Dean was a least a little aroused himself. Whether that was just a natural response to feeling Sam's erection pressed against him, or he was actually interested, Sam didn't know.

The kid was barely a day out of the hands of the vampires, out of being half drained, half starved…Sam was being a horny jerk. Even if Dean did have any sort of interest in having sex with Sam, he was in no shape for it.

Reluctantly Sam moved away from Dean, biting his lip at the loss of pressure on his needy member. Crap was he hard. If he didn't get laid soon, apparently he was going to be dry humping Dean in his sleep. Since he really didn't want to sleep on the couch, and a king sized bed was still the better choice because of Bobby, things were going to get awkward indeed if he didn't get his libido under control. Hopefully he could find a willing partner this evening at the local bar for a quick one and that would help.

Sam climbed out of bed, slipped into a pair of sweats, and then walked around to Dean's side of the bed. He was still so hard it damned near hurt, but Dean's needs came first. It was highly unlikely Dean would be able to walk without aid to the bathroom but at least he didn't think he would have to carry Dean at this point.

"I'm sorry about…it's been awhile is all," Sam said, a little embarrassed. "I figured your friend would be hunting for two guys in a double. I thought a single would be safer. I didn't mean to be … crowding you. Let's get you into the bathroom." Tugging the covers back he offered Dean a hand to help sit up.

Dean let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding when Sam finally shifted his hips away from him. He had to get a hold of himself and stop acting like a friggen virgin girl or something. Because he definitely wasn't either and he'd certainly been in more awkward or compromising situations. It wasn't a big deal.

At least, that's what Dean told himself to keep himself from practically swallowing his own tongue because he'd stupidly watched the other man get out of bed and put on some sweats. The dude could fucking pitch a tent with that thing… ok it was really time to stop thinking about the other guy's dick. No matter how hard that might be with it right there practically in his face.

Dean forced himself to look up at Sam's face, rather than anywhere else, as the other man explained, and Dean nodded in understanding. It made sense, and any advantage they could use to keep Bobby off their trail was a good idea. Sharing a bed wasn't a big deal. He wasn't used to it, but that didn't mean he couldn't deal. As long as they didn't have another morning like this, anyway.

"Yeah, no problem. It was just… a surprise." Dean was pleased how nonchalant he managed to say that. Especially when the other man pulled back the covers of the bed from him without much warning, getting a good look at Dean's own problem barely contained by his underwear. You'd think embarrassment would be a pretty good anti-aphrodisiac. Too bad it wasn't.

Pain was though, as he took the other man's hand and used it to pull himself up. Wincing at the pull of his wounds across his back. He wished he didn't have to get up at all, but he needed to take a fucking piss and he wasn't wearing a fucking diaper or pissing into a bottle for a week.

Sam couldn't help being a bit pleased to see Dean have trouble pulling his eyes away from Sam's erection. With a private grin he rather wished he hadn't put his sweats on. He followed that thought with a chastising one reminding himself that Dean was hurt. He was even more pleased that Dean seemed very relaxed about the incident. Waking up in a strange bed with a practical stranger jabbing you with a hard on, that could be enough to rattle a person. What could have ended up really awkward Dean was more or less shrugging off. Sam smiled a little to himself. He liked than Dean seemed pretty damned grounded and sensible but then, most hunters were.

"Yeah, for me too," Sam admitted. He usually didn't move that much in his sleep. Right now he was sleeping light and that must have contributed to him seeking out warmth. Nestled up against someone he didn't have to work as hard to keep his own body temperature up to the "human" range. "I'm not really use to having anyone in bed with me unless we're together recreationally."

With Dean now uncovered, Sam wasn't surprised to see Dean's with his own bit of morning wood since he could smell the arousal plain as day. Damn, why did he leave Dean's undershorts on? Though it was probably a good thing he had, for more reasons than he wanted to count. His was already harder than was comfortable. It just plain didn't help that Dean's fading embarrassment flared back to life. At least Dean didn't try to grab the covers or refuse Sam's aid. Instead he just pushed through it, ignoring it. Sam decided Dean either really really had to piss, or he was as hard as Sam was and really, really needed to jack off. Probably the former, Sam mused.

Once Dean pulled himself to the sitting position, Sam helped Dean to his feet. Dean's knees still seemed weak and he was pretty unsteady, but with Sam's help, they reached the bathroom without too much trouble.

"You need me to stay?" Sam offered. "You're still pretty shaky. Honestly, since you're in here, a shower might be good for you, too, and good for your back. If you feel up to it."

Dean was glad that once he was on his feet, though he was unsteady as hell, he managed to bear most of his weight by himself. With the other man’s help he made it to the bathroom without much trouble. It wasn’t that long of a walk anyway, though there was little doubt he’d probably have ended up on his ass without Cristo’s help. Another day or two he probably wouldn’t need the help anymore, thank god. He hated feeling like a fucking invalid.

“I think I can take it from here, thanks.” Dean replied to the other man’s offer to help him further. Shaky or not, he wasn’t going to ask the other man to stand behind him to watch him piss. Bad enough that the other guy had to pull his pants up and help him get himself situated in them last night. There was only so much humiliation Dean was willing to take with a straight face.

A shower did sound pretty damn good right now though. Maybe he’d attempt it if he could get through his other business without too much incident.

Pulling away from Sam, Dean used the door jam, and then the sink for support. Closing the door behind him though he didn’t lock it, so just in case he did fall on his ass Sam wouldn’t have to bust it open to help him up again. Fuck, but people just didn’t appreciate the simple act of being able to put one foot in front of the other until they couldn’t anymore. At least he managed to get to the toilet without his knees crumbling on him, bracing one hand on the back of the cool porcelain while he did his business, and flushing.

He looked at the plain motel shower and tub longingly, debating whether or not his rubbery legs would hold him up long enough for him to enjoy it. Hell, even a quick shower would probably make him feel a thousand percent better. So Dean turned on the water and adjusted it to a comfortable temperature. Pressing his hand against the wall for balance as he carefully stepped inside, only to have his foot slip and Dean cursed loudly as he grabbed the shower curtain to keep from falling and quite possibly busting his skull open on the edge of the tub.

Honestly, Sam was glad Dean felt strong enough to manage by himself. Besides, there wasn't a whole helluva lot more embarrassing thing than not being able to stand by yourself to piss. Sam's hard on had finally eased, but he knew he was going to have to jack off soon or ice himself down, or he was going to be in some blue ball pain. Served him right for being so horny in the first place.

When he heard the shower start, he scowled. Dean's back was bandaged from neck to ass. It was doubtful the man could easily get the bandages free without hurting himself. He headed back to the bathroom to offer to get the bandages off of Dean when he heard Dean's curse and the jangle of the shower curtain.

He threw open the door and was at Dean's side instantly. Although Dean ripped the curtain, it had held enough to keep him from smashing his head on the porcelain. Sam knew Dean surely suddenly discovered just how sore his shoulders were too. Hanging by your wrists for three days did ugly things to your shoulder joints if you tried to raise your arms over your head.

"Dammit Winchester, ask for help," Sam told him. He helped Dean sit up, ignoring the soft spray of water drenching his shirt and hair. Dean's face was pinched with pain and he was gasping in pain. "Well, you're already wet, so am I, and we might as well get you your shower. Just sit there while I get these bandages off your back."

Sam carefully pried the gauze and tape free and tossed them into the sink. Some of the nastier cuts had broken open with Dean's fall and were seeping blood. At the moment he was too worried to think about anything other than looking after the young man. Staying out of the tub, Sam poured some of the liquid soap the hotel had available into his palm and lathered it up. Rather than using a washcloth, he used his hands to ever so gently give the man's back a thorough washing. He felt Dean wince under his touch occasionally and he murmured soft apologies. A few of the wounds, especially one of the bite wounds, was still red and inflamed. The antibiotic ointment just wasn't enough. Dammit. He was going to have to get Dean some antibiotics.

Once he finished Dean's back, he just went ahead and washed Dean's chest the same way. Dean apparently hurt too much to complain. He couldn't deny he enjoyed the feel of the firm slick muscles, but Dean's hitched breathing robbed him of any potential thrill. He just wanted to get the young man back to bed and get some painkillers in him. There was no doubt after this that they were staying here at least until tomorrow morning.

He washed Dean's arms next and heard the man's sharp inhale of breath when he lifted Dean's left arm to wash it. Sam went more carefully and gently, then washed Dean's feet and legs. He grabbed the shampoo and washed Dean's hair then lathered up a cloth and put it in Dean's right hand. There was no doubt the hunter really hurt himself since he was putting up with this without complaint.

"Okay Winchester, I'm getting in the shower now. I'm going to get you on your feet. You can wash your own privates, but it's probably going to be hard for you to get your ass. Hand me the cloth when you're done and I'll get it. We'll get you rinsed off and then sit you down on the toilet to get you dry. After that, I'm putting you back in bed. I think it might be good to let your wounds breathe a little before I bandage them again. You good with this plan?" Sam asked.

He flicked the toilet lid down and grabbed some of the towels off the shelf in anticipation of Dean's agreement.

Dean was too busy gasping like a fish out of water on the floor of the tub to hear the bathroom door open barely a second after he fell. The blinding pain in his shoulders, arms, back, legs… fuck everywhere… robbing him of any other thought than how much he fucking hurt right now. Yet oddly enough he didn’t startle when he felt the other man’s hands on him, gently easing him to sit up though at the moment he would have rather not moved at all.

Suck it up, Dean. He could practically hear his father’s words he’d heard often enough when the man had been alive echo in his head, and Dean forced himself to focus and push down the pain. Nodding when the other man offered to help him with his shower, not that Dean could have refused anyway considering he could barely move right now at all.

Dean winced sharply, though he managed to bite back the small noises of pain that tried to escape at the sting of the soap in his wounds despite how carefully Sam washed around them. He was very much regretting his decision to shower by the time the other man moved to his chest, though at least that hurt a bit less. Dean just closed his eyes and waited for it to be over. Only opening them again to look up at the other man when Sam pressed the washcloth into his hand and asked him a question.

“Yeah.” Dean managed with a slight nod, though his voice was more than a little strained. His earlier embarrassment regarding the other man seeing him naked completely forgotten by this point. Maybe later, looking back, he’d be embarrassed as hell over this, but right now he was only interested in following Sam’s plan.

Especially the part about getting him back into bed where he could pass out again.

Dean's heart was racing and there was no doubt he was hurting like a bitch. Dammit, Sam shouldn't have left him. When Sam picked him up, he knew Dean wasn't going to be able to stand, just because he hurt too much. Trying Sam's plan was just going to be too hard on him.

"New plan Dean," Sam said. "Just stay there." Grabbing the ice bucket sitting on the sink, he let the shower spray fill it and used it to finish rinsing Dean's skin and hair free of the soap. It wouldn't be perfect, but toweling Dean dry he would get the rest. After he got Dean rinsed clean he shut off the shower. He pulled his own soaked shirt off and ran a towel over himself before turning to Dean. He gently dried Dean, being careful to barely pat
Dean's back dry. He slid a towel under Dean's legs and finished drying Dean off as best he could.

"I'm going to carry you out to the bed. You just let me do the work."

Sam slid his fingers under the cheeks of Dean's ass, letting Dean's chest rest against his shoulder. He slowly, carefully, got Dean picked up, grabbing a towel to finish drying off Dean's buttocks, and carried the injured hunter out to the bed.

"It's going to hurt to get you down and on your stomach. I'm sorry," Sam whispered softly, having a moment of déjà vu, remembering a not so different scenario with Jessica.

In one fluid movement Sam lowered Dean into the bed and got him onto his stomach. He ran his hand over Dean's short wet hair. "It's done. Just try to breathe while I get you straightened out a bit so you'll sleep easier."

Sam adjusted Dean's limbs gently. After a minute of listening to Dean's labored breathing he sighed. "Your muscles are all knotted up. I'm going to give you some pain medication, then I'm going to massage your legs and arms and see if that doesn't help. I'll have to go out and get you some antibiotics later, but let me get these muscles worked while they're still warm. It's probably going to hurt at first, but it'll feel better after you wake up."

Pulling a Vicadin from the first aid kit, Sam got Dean to take it, then got the lotion out of the bathroom. By the time he got done working the knots out of Dean's muscles, he knew he was going to have a major hard on, but Dean would be asleep by then and wouldn't know. He covered Dean with a blanket, just leaving on leg exposed for the moment and put the lotion on his hands. He began to slowly run his hands over Dean's leg, carefully massaging every muscle and tenderly working out every knot he found.

Dean wasn’t about to argue when Sam decided to scratch his previous plan, especially since Dean knew it would have been near impossible for him to follow through with it anyway. Though he did raise an eyebrow and frown a little when the other man told him to “stay there”, where exactly was he supposed to go when he could barely move?

A second after he thought it Dean sighed softly and pushed his annoyance away, knowing it was just the pain that was making him “crankier” than usual. He knew Sam was only trying to help him, and he appreciated it. He just hated being so fucking helpless. He wasn’t used to leaning on anybody, quite literally, for support.

He muffled a groan of discomfort against Sam’s shoulder when the other hunter picked him up carefully and carried him out of the bathroom like he was a child. Hating every second of it, but what else could he do? He couldn’t even stand, much less walk. It felt like he’d twisted every single muscle in his body in that stupid fall. But he guessed it could have been worse. He could have busted his skull open on the way down and had to go to the hospital. Yeah, that would have made his week just perfect.

Dean grunted a slight acknowledgement when Sam warned him before putting him down and braced himself as best he could for the discomfort. At least the other man was quick about it and Dean hissed sharply but managed not to make another sound while Sam got him situated in the bed. Though Dean was breathing so hard he felt like he’d run a marathon or something by the time it was over.

He wasn’t sure if he imagined the soft brush of fingers through his hair or not, not to mention Sam’s offer to massage his muscles for him, hopefully easing his discomfort quicker than painkillers alone would, which he appreciated, but he also didn’t quite understand why Sam cared so much in the first place. Especially considering what Bobby had told him, about the guy not liking the company of others, hunters or otherwise.

Dean merely nodded, however, deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth and too tired to think about why a virtual stranger would do something like that or examine too closely his own feelings regarding the gesture. Accepting the painkiller and doing his best to try and relax while the other man went to work, his stiff muscles protesting at first but gradually loosening under Sam’s surprisingly skilled fingers. Dean gave a sigh as some of the tension in his body eased, along with the pain, and whether it was due to the drugs or Sam’s hands running over his flesh he didn’t much care.

Maybe it should have felt a bit awkward, considering not even an hour ago he’d woken up in bed with the strange man with his dick practically humping the leg Sam was now massaging, but oddly enough it didn’t. As good as it felt, Sam was all business. Though Dean couldn’t stop the small sounds of pleasure from escaping his throat when the other man’s hands worked out a particularly painful knot in his muscles. His eyes slipping closed as he slowly turned to butter underneath Sam’s hands.

Sam focused on working each knot out that he came to in Dean's leg and smiled at Dean's small moans of pleasure. He would love to give the young man a full body massage but Dean's wounded back would preclude that possibility. He could do some careful work along Dean's deliciously muscled sides and parts of his chest and abdomen. Sam bit his own lip to silence any sounds of his own, enjoying running his hands over Dean's muscles, enjoying kneading his fingers deeply into the hunter's tanned flesh. He let his hands investigate ever ripple of muscle, every tendon, every joint. Dean's moans had softened and become intermittent, but when Sam moved to work on Dean's other leg, he heard Dean's soft groans of complaint until he got some of the worst knots eased.

By the time he had reached Dean's foot, Dean was once again giving little more than occasional soft moans. At this point he had run out of the limited quantity of lotion the hotel provided. Reaching into his own duffel he pulled out the only lotion he had, his sunblock. He proceeded to warm the lotion in his hands, then went to work on Dean's buttocks. Dean jumped just a little, but getting no verbal protests he worked the tight muscles that led down the legs and as far up Dean's back as the wounds would allow. He licked his lips wishing he could run his fingers down that enticing warm crack to that surely delicious, fine tight hole that was hidden from his view. That wouldn't exactly keep the man relaxed, and just the thought did anything but relax Sam own already too solid arousal. Oh how he wanted to rain kisses down that ass and work his way toward that secret place, licking his way in.

Professional. Keep it professional, Sam told himself firmly. When he was done and Dean was asleep, he was going to jack off and he knew he was going to come so fucking hard it wouldn't be funny. He wanted Dean in the worst possible way and he promised himself that as soon as Dean was well enough, he was going to let the young man know it. But until then…Sam growled to himself and went to work on Dean's arms and shoulders.

Muscle. The man was fucking solid muscle and it was driving Sam freaking crazy. Doggedly he kept on, finishing Dean's other arm, working on the tight neck muscles, and then doing a little light work on Dean's sides. At that point the water than had soaked into his sweats from helping Dean with his shower was nothing compared to the precome he was leaking. He had to cut short the massage at that point. He just couldn't stand touching the man anymore. Dean was either asleep or nearly so and Sam just couldn't wait any longer.

After hastily pulling a warm blanket over the man, he climbed to his feet and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower and getting in as fast as he could strip down. No more lotion was available, but there was conditioner and that was close enough. Sam was so freaking close to coming as it was he knew it wouldn't take long. He took hold of his rock hard cock and began slowly sliding his hand up and down its shaft, groaning with each stroke. He wanted to draw it out, but he was already too far into the pleasure/pain threshold and began to speed up each stroke. All he could see was the handsome young hunter with those blushing lips on his cock, working him harder and harder. Sam finally came, shouting "Fuck!" as his seed all but exploded from his dick in think long ropes again and again. The pulsing waves shook his body violently. Shit. Yes, it apparently had been far too long since he last laid with a woman or a man. He sank to his knees, letting the smaller and smaller waves of pleasure fade as his cock grew flaccid. He sat on his knees in the shower, fully spent. It took him a long while to drag his ass out of the nice warming mist. He wiped down the last of his spunk from the tile wall and climbed out of the shower, pushing the half town shower curtain aside.

He figured Dean would probably sleep for three or four hours, but he also knew when Dean woke up, that two hour massage he had given the man was going to make Dean feel one hundred percent better. Most of the muscular pain Dean had been in had come from hanging like a piece of meat for three days, and then stuck in bed not moving. That was all coupled with the stress of being tortured, fed on, taken care of by a stranger, and worried about turning into a vampire…

After drying off, Sam walked out naked into the room to pull out some fresh clothes. Distractedly he mentally ticked off the things he needed: food and water for Dean, some antibiotics, more sunblock for himself, some lubricant—just in case Dean proved to be interested Sam wanted to be prepared—and more bandages and ointment. Dean's wrists and ankles were healing well, but they would still need covered for a few days. Some of his back wounds were actually looking pretty good all things considered, but they too would need bandages yet. And then there were those three stubborn wounds that were still red and inflamed. He hoped the antibiotics would do the job, otherwise he was going to have to take Dean to a hospital, even if only as an outpatient. And then there would be all sorts of awkward questions.

And he still needed to clean that damned nauseating dead man's blood from the trunk. In the heat of the Texas day, it was going to be more than a little heinous smelling.

Dean had never had a massage before. It would have been like him going in for a manicure or something he just didn’t do that girly pampering shit. But he was definitely starting to have a change of heart about the whole massage thing once the other man really started to work on him, and fuck, it felt good. Sam’s strong fingers digging into his sore muscles was a little uncomfortable at first, but after the other man began working out the worst of the knots, and his stiff muscles started to relax, it felt better than Dean would have ever imagined.

He wasn’t all that surprised when heat began to pool in his groin, especially considering where the other man’s hands were working along his inner thigh muscles. Maybe he should have told Sam to stop, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. He simply closed his eyes and tried to ignore his stiffening arousal underneath him while he shamefully enjoyed the feeling of the other hunter’s hands roaming over him more intimately than he had been touched for a good while.

Dean couldn’t stop himself from stiffening however when Sam’s hands moved up from his legs to his ass. His heart actually skipping a beat, and for a split second he wondered if the other man had realized he was getting aroused and he’d taken it for some kind of permission. Dean wondered if the painkiller wasn’t going to his head since he wasn’t completely turned off by the idea, despite the fact that he was obviously in no fucking shape for something like that right now.

But, oddly enough considering where Sam’s hands were, his touch remained more professional than intimate. Not that it didn’t feel good, it did, but the other man didn’t touch him in places he obviously could have if he’d really wanted to and Dean wouldn’t have been able to do much to object. Not that he’d thought the other man would try to molest him, ok maybe the thought had crossed his mind briefly, but the fact was that Sam didn’t and Dean finally allowed himself to relax fully.

He was already half asleep by the time Sam moved up to his shoulders where the pain was the worst and that woke him up a little but soft groans of discomfort quickly eased to low moans of pleasure. When he fell asleep Sam was still working on the muscles in his neck and he privately wished that the other man would never stop.

It had taken him four freaking hours to get everything, the antibiotics being the hardest and taking the longest. After all his years he was more than a little adept at picking pockets and slipping into and out of places, but this was a small town. He had to drive twenty miles to reach a hospital where he then had to sneak his way in and pretend to be an orderly until he managed to get hold of a prescription pad. He did score two syringes of antibiotics in the process, but that was just by chance and he didn't dare risk taking more. There were too many people around and stealing more than that might be readily noticed.

In case Dean was allergic to one type of antibiotic he stopped at different drug stores in order to get a few different types. It also gave him an opportunity to pick up most of the things he had on his shopping list.

After than ordeal was over, he decided pizza might be good as a meal because that didn't really matter if it was hot or not. Pizza was pizza, and he had no idea when Dean might finally wake up.

Driving around in the old Impala, he felt like he stuck like a sore thumb. Yes, much better to travel at night and try to stay off the road during the day. He wondered briefly if Bobby kept his cell phone on. He probably did. Maybe they could get the GPS turned on and find out if Bobby had picked up their trail. He would mention that to Dean. He hoped all his travels hadn't alerted someone and word got back to the hunter. Well, if it had, he would just make himself scarce as fast as possible.

Sam got a fully loaded pizza and then one with just pepperoni at a little mom and pop joint and headed back to the motel. The smell of the dead man's blood was really beginning to get to him. He didn't think he could take one more hour with that hideous stench. Grateful barely covered how he felt when he got out of the car and carried his purchases into the room.

When Dean woke up he was alone. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised by that. Though maybe surprised wasn’t the right word. Relieved maybe? That he didn’t wake up to a hard cock practically humping his leg like before. That was closer to the truth. Or maybe relief wasn’t even the right word. Whatever it was he wasn’t disappointed though. Hell no.

Yawning, Dean pushed himself up a little and turned his head to look around the room. Yup, empty. But Cristo’s things were still sitting over by one of the walls so he was pretty sure the other hunter hadn’t just split on him. Maybe the other man had gone out for food? Or hadn’t he said something about antibiotics before?

Well, wherever he’d gone he’d better be taking care of his car, damn it.

Dean pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, only after he did realizing he’d done so rather easily considering he had barely been able to move before but now he felt very little discomfort. Hell, guess that massage worked pretty damn good. His back still hurt like a bitch and he still felt a little weak, but at least he didn’t feel like a two hundred year old man anymore. He was able to get to his feet by himself and walk to the bathroom without support and do his business by himself. Definitely an improvement.

While in the bathroom Dean took a moment to stare at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked like hell. His skin kin of a pale sickly color, probably still recovering from blood loss, except for a slight flush to his cheeks which worried him a little. He hoped he wasn’t developing a fever from infected wounds. Even if he was, a good round of antibiotics should clear it up in a couple of days. Wouldn’t be pleasant until then, but he could deal with it.

Dean turned on the cold water in the sink and filled a plastic cup, downing it quickly. Fuck he was thirsty. He finished off five or six more cups of water that way and was still thirsty as hell. He probably could have drank even more but he didn’t want to overdo it and risk vomiting. He splashed some water on his face instead, running his wet fingers through his hair, the cold water feeling good against his skin. Dean grabbed a towel and dried off before returning to the bedroom.

He went over to his duffel, pulled out some clothes, then sat back down on the bed to get dressed. He was beginning to feel the strain from moving around so much, he definitely wasn’t a hundred percent yet, but he managed to get dressed by himself this time without much fumbling. The t-shirt he pulled over his head the hardest of course but being able to put some jeans on himself was definitely a plus.

Dean got up again and walked over to the window, pulling open the dark shades and wincing a little at the bright afternoon sunlight that spilled through them but he left them open. He returned to the bed and laid down on his side, grabbing the remote and flipping through the channels as he waited for Cristo to get back. It was almost an hour later before he finally heard a noise at the door and turned his head to see the other hunter walk in, the smell of pizza making Dean’s stomach growl loudly before Sam was even all the way through the door.

“Hey.” Dean said, pushing himself up to sit.

Walking in the door, he was pleased to see Dean was feeling well enough to dress himself. He also noted that Dean was still pale and a little flushed. It was possible he was displaying signs of turning, or he could just have an infection in his back. Sam hoped it was the latter. He suspected Dean wouldn't choose to try to go vegetarian and would choose death and damnation instead. He wondered though, if a person died before the demon got its teeth into a soul, if a person was still damned to Hell.

"Hey," Sam said, returning the greeting. "You look like you're feeling better."

Even though he was glad his massage had obviously helped the man, he did wish Dean hadn't managed to put on a shirt. Still, the way the t-shirt clung to his chest and abs, it almost made him more tempting. Sam tried not to let his interest show, tried not to let his gaze linger, but Dean was just so fucking delicious. After giving Dean a smile, reluctantly he pulled his eyes from the handsome young man. "I got one with everything, and one with just pepperoni. Wasn't sure what you might like or be up to eating for that matter."

After setting the pizza on the table he swung the bags from the stores up to set them beside the pizza boxes. "I managed to lay hands on two syringes of antibiotics, but they're penicillin, and I got two prescriptions. One is that ten-day pack of strong antibiotics, and then the other is a ten day, twice a day one." Sam withdrew the prescriptions from one of the bags and set the two syringes next to them. "I wasn't sure if you were allergic to anything. I've got the prescription pad, so can put in for something different if none of these work for you. I picked up some more bandages and a few other things. Got some more bottled water out in the car, too."

Sam opened the box with the fully-load pizza and snagged a piece, then dug into one of the bags and pulled out a bottle of beer. The look on Dean's face when he saw the beer almost made Sam laugh. "You can't have pizza without beer."

“Yeah, thanks.” Dean nodded to the other man’s comment that he was feeling better. Yeah, he was feeling a hell of a lot better, thanks to Sam. Between the massage, the medical supplies the other man picked up for him, the pizza, and the beer, the other hunter was about his favorite person in the world right now.

Grinning, Dean got up from the bed and made his way carefully over to the table. Ignoring the prescriptions for now, he should probably take them on a full stomach anyway, and grabbed a slice of pizza. Taking a huge bite before twisting the top of a beer and downing about a quarter of it in one go.

“Fuck, that’s good.” He said as he made himself comfortable in one of the chairs at the table. Happily devouring his slice of pizza and finishing off his beer. Grabbing another of both when he was finished. Maybe he shouldn’t be drinking so much because of the Vicadin he’d taken earlier but he didn’t think he’d need another dose of painkillers any time soon. He was feeling pretty good, all things considered.

Aside from the fact that he was starving and he felt like he could finish off all the beers by himself if he wasn’t careful. It felt like no matter how much he drank he was still thirsty. But three days with no food or water, he supposed that was expected.

Sam watched Dean with a more critical eye. As fast as he had downed that beer and devoured that piece of pizza…well, maybe not unusual. He certainly hadn't had much to eat over the past days, but he really ought to be re-hydrated by now. Of course, Dean could just really like beer. Maybe he should have picked up a twelve pack instead of just six.

Tilting his head a little, he focused on listening to Dean's heartbeat. He was so use to blocking out the sounds of heartbeats that it took him a moment. It still sounded normal. Maybe an occasional beat was off, but that wasn't necessarily unusual either. Humans often had an occasional stutter to their heartbeats. But he hadn't heard one in Dean's before and that worried him. The way Dean was relaxing in the chair, he was putting some pressure on his back. Not a lot, but still more than Sam expected him to be able to.

His face darkening a little, he pushed himself to his feet. He had lied to Dean. Loss of appetite was not a sign of turning. It was just the opposite. He had only told Dean that to make Dean eat when he had been upset and had lost interest in the meal. When someone started to turn, thirst and hunger was one of the early signs. The body was beginning to crave blood. If a person didn't turn immediately, a fever was expected as the body tried to fight off the infection. The fever could range any where from low grade to high, and it varied person to person. Jacob, the man who had beaten the vampire virus, had started off with a low grade fever, five or six days into it. He had the thirst, the hunger, and began to avoid sunlight. On the eighth day Jacob's fever shot sky high for about half a day. Sam kept him just cool enough so Jacob's brain wouldn't melt, but he let the fever burn. Once the fever broke, Jacob was pretty much back to normal. He slept for about twelve hours, but then was fine, like nothing had ever happened.

Walking around the table, he put a hand on Dean's forehead. He was warm. Not a full blown fever, but definitely a low-grade one.

"Lean forward. I want to check your back," Sam said brusquely, nudging Dean's shoulder. If Dean was showing early signs, the infected wounds would heal first. The infection was something the virus would gobble up since it was an invading force as well and the human cells were already weakened there. The other wounds would be healing up faster, courtesy of the virus, but not as fast as the infected ones.

He pulled up Dean's t-shirt part way and loosened the bandage on one of the bites. It was still inflamed but the inflammation was definitely going down. It didn't look to be nearly the nasty wound it had been. Maybe Dean's body was simply fighting it off. He was a healthy young man and getting some food and liquids in him was surely helping him. Sam checked the other two infected wounds. One was no longer infected, one was.

Sam huffed softly. Indeterminate at this point. He put the bandages back in place, pulled down Dean's t-shirt and returned to his seat, pizza, and beer. Seeing Dean's worried look, Sam shrugged. "I was just making sure I shouldn't be shoving pills down you before I let you eat or drink too much. Your back is healing up pretty well, and it looks like you're fighting off the infection. Even so, the antibiotics are a good idea as a follow up."

Hoping Dean bought was he was selling, Sam finished off his own beer and pulled out a second.

Dean glanced up from his meal when Sam suddenly stood up from the table, the look in the other hunter's eyes making a small shiver run down his spine and his heart rate kick up a notch in spite of himself, because he'd seen that look before. On the face of every hunter he'd ever met, including himself. He just never thought he'd have it directed at him.

What is it? He wanted to ask, but Sam didn't give him a chance. Quickly rounding their small dinner table and Dean suddenly lost all interest in his meal.

The young man remained still however when the other man approached him, despite a primal urge to back away, fighting against both his primal survival instincts as well as his training as a hunter. The hand Sam laid on his forehead was anything but comforting, but he didn't shrug it off or try to push the other man away from him.

He nodded slightly and did as he was told when Sam told him to lean forward. His muscles, that had taken so much effort to relax in the first place, already tensing and beginning to ache once more while the other man carefully checked him over. Dean resisted the urge to flinch every time Sam touched him though and to banish the feeling that any second now the other hunter was going to take a machete to his neck.

Dean sat back when Sam was finished, waiting, maybe literally, for the ax to fall. The other man's all too casual reply however did nothing to relax him. Who the hell did Sam think he was talking to? He was a hunter too, after all. He could smell bullshit a mile away. Something he had done had obviously sent warning bells off to the other hunter. Not enough to kill him for, yet, but enough for the other man to take notice of.

"Sure." He answered anyway, willing to play along for now. But despite how hungry he still felt, Dean didn't feel much like eating anymore. Drinking on the other hand was still an option. Too bad it wasn't anything harder than beer though. Ignoring the rest of his pizza Dean grabbed up one of the packages of antibiotics, tore it open, and downed a couple of the pills with a pull from his beer. Then he got up from the table.

"I'm gonna watch some TV." Dean told the other hunter, making his way back over to the bed without waiting for Sam to reply, taking his beer with him. With a sigh he laid down on the bed on his side and started flipping through the meager selection of channels distractedly once more.

Smooth, Cristo. Way to scare him. Sam blew out a sigh.

"Dude, I'm sorry I freaked you out. I don't…most of my social interactions are one night stands or supernatural evil. I haven't had constant companionship for a couple years so I'm not always as subtle as I could be. Mostly out of practice.

"Stop worrying. You're acting like anyone who's been starved for three days. Getting food and water into you has probably given your body the kick it's needed to start healing, and in turn, making you burn energy pretty fast. You need to eat more. Yeah, you have a little bit of a flush but you've got an infection in those wounds. I'm not seeing anything going on that has me reaching for my machete." Sam got up and brought the loaded pizza over to Dean, then retrieved the three remaining beers and he stretched out on the bed, the pizza box between them. Condensation rolled down the sides of the beer bottles where Sam had set them on the floor.

Sam dug out another piece of pizza for himself and quickly finished it off, along with the rest of his beer. He liked pizza. It was among one of his favorite foods. And beer, well, he always liked beer, but harder alcohol was just as good. He glanced over at Dean. If he were to offer Dean some of the tequila he had, maybe it would loosen him up a little. Sam's little show earlier had probably tensed the hell out of him. Besides, he liked looking at Dean's body, but would like it even more if they didn't have the pizza box separating them and if Dean were more relaxed. No harm in looking, so long as Dean didn't perceive it as Sam watching him for signs of turning. Of course the other interpretation was more correct, that Sam was lusting after him and that probably wouldn't be much better in Dean's eyes. Certainly Dean's main focus was concern about if he was going to turn.

Yeah. Time for tequila. If Sam wasn't going to get laid, and with Dean having a fever he didn't feel comfortable leaving him, he might as well enjoy a bit of alcohol. Sam got off the bed and retrieved the bottle from one of his bags. He picked up two glasses, dropped some ice in them, and returned to the bed. He poured himself a drink then set the bottle and glass with ice within Dean's reach. Dean could have some if he wanted, or he could polish off the beers remaining. After a moment, he decided to take off his shirt. The sun shining in the room had warmed it up. Besides, he was rather hoping Dean might like what he saw.

"I did a lot of running around today, and that car of yours has the potential to draw attention. As soon as the sun goes down, I say we get back on the road and head toward Oklahoma. I've got an old friend there. I don’t mean for us to push through tonight, but we could probably make Texarcana or some place not real far from there without too much trouble. We can pull off earlier if you get tired."

Sam paused. He didn't want to think about being in the car for six or seven hours with that damned stench in the trunk. "Before we get on the road, though, we really need to clean up your weapons. Your bottle of deadman's blood got shattered. Probably what gave you away. As easily as they can catch your scent on the wind, I don't doubt they can smell dead man's blood."

Dean glanced over at the other man when Sam suddenly spoke up, making a face, and immediately wanting to protest that he was not freaking out. He didn’t freak out. He wasn’t worrying either. Ok, so maybe he was worrying a little bit, but who wouldn’t be with the chance that he might sprout fangs and turn into a fucking bloodsucker any day now hanging over his head? But he wasn’t freaking out. Just because he relaxed a little better after the other hunter reassured him he was acting normally did not mean he’d been freaking out.

Though he did raise an eyebrow slightly when the other man brought the pizza and beers over to the bed and sprawled out on the end opposite him. Fuck, he suddenly felt like a schoolgirl at a slumber party or something, but that didn’t stop him from sitting up and snagging another piece of pizza for himself. Ok, so he was hungry, damn it. Sue him.

Dean reached for another beer, and turned the volume up a little on the Godzilla movie he’d managed to find. A more relaxed silence falling between them as they ate dinner and watched TV together. Yeah, it had been a while for Dean too sharing company with someone like this. He’d shared a room with Bobby a couple of times when they worked jobs together, but the last time had been months ago. It had been hard getting used to being alone most of the time after his Dad had died. Maybe he was a bit out of practice too.

He raised an eyebrow in question when Sam got up again suddenly. A little bit surprised when the other man returned to the bed with two glasses and a bottle of tequila like he’d read his mind. A bit spooky that, but Dean certainly wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Pouring a glass for himself with a nod of thanks and taking a drink. Damn that was good.

The young man was a little less prepared for when the other hunter took off his shirt, and Dean did his best to concentrate on his liquor, pizza, and movie rather than stare at the other man, but holy fuck. No wonder Sam had so easily tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Man was built like a brick shithouse.

“What? Oh, sure, no problem.” Dean replied, clearing his throat and taking another drink when Sam suggested that they move after dark. He felt good enough that he could probably drive for a bit too. Not that he didn’t trust Sam to handle his baby, but well, he didn’t really trust anyone handling his baby. When the other hunter went on to tell him about the broken bottle of dead man’s blood in his trunk Dean wasn’t sure which surprised him more, that Sam had searched his car well enough to find his weapons stash or the fact that the bottle of broken blood is what had probably given him away to the vampires before. Well, he supposed he felt a little better knowing that he hadn’t done something completely stupid to give himself away.

“I’ll take care of it.” He said as he started to push himself up. Might as well start now, no telling how long it was going to take. There had been a good deal of blood in that bottle and depending on how many weapons. Fuck, he wouldn’t have been too surprised if his father came back to haunt him just to kick his ass right now for that. The older man had always been almost obsessively meticulous about the care of their weapons. Taking care of their weapons and taking care of that car. Those had been Dean’s main responsibilities for as long as he could remember. Shaking his head Dean got up and grabbed his keys.

So Dean liked the harder alcohol as well. When Dean was feeling a little better, he would definitely keep that in mind. He wasn't above getting someone drunk to convince them to have sex. When Dean's eyes nearly bugged out of his head when Sam took of his shirt, Sam gave himself a private smile. Sure, Dean could simply be admiring the way he was built, but maybe, just maybe he might have some evil thoughts sneak in there as well. Sam could hope so at any rate. If nothing else, Sam was more than pleased with Dean's reaction. Damn he wished Dean would heal up soon. But not so soon as to go the vampiric route.

As much as Sam admittedly would enjoy having a fellow vampire at his side for years to come, especially one as fine looking as Dean, he really wouldn't wish vampirism on anyone. Sure, he had adjusted. He had accepted. Fortunately vampires didn't mimic their Hollywood counterparts. He could walk in the sun, eat garlic on his pizza or spaghetti, so long as it wasn't overwhelming, and holy water didn't hurt him, unless that's all he had to drink for a couple days. At that point, yeah, he would begin to feel a little sick. Enough deadman's blood would kill him, after a long and painful handful of days, and loss of blood combined with enough physical damage, that could eventually kill him, too. Though a vampire could comeback from some pretty serious damage even years later if he got enough human blood. He didn't imagine it was a pleasant existence. He wondered too, where that point of no return was. When the body degraded enough the head simply fell away from the body? He hoped when he went it was from a nice clean decapitation. Hellbound after that, certainly, and an eternity of torture and ultimate servitude as the last of humanity was scorched and torn from him and his demonic side was all that was left. He shuddered. Enough gruesome thoughts.

Instead he let his eyes watch Dean in his tight t-shirt and equally tight jeans rise from the bed, grab the keys from the table, and head out the door. Dean did seem to be doing better and most assuredly the food helped. Maybe Sam could slide down to the bar and try for a quick pick up; girl or guy, it didn't really matter, though Dean's scent made him think a guy would be much more to his liking if he could manage it. He really was going to jump Dean's bones if he didn't get some sort of relief. He couldn't believe just how much the young man positively turned him on. He could get a freaking hard on just watching him. He had seen plenty of gorgeous young men through the years. What was it about this young man that made all sensibilities flit away. No, that wasn't true. While his thoughts had been lascivious, he had been exceedingly, painfully, well-behaved. He had only once spent a bit of time running light fingers over the unconscious man's body. He may have had lustful thoughts while massaging the hunter, but he didn't act on any of them. And vampires really weren't known for self-control. One reason they often gave themselves away. Self-control was something Stasi had taught him. It had been long and painful tutelage, but, and he laughed to himself, if he hadn't endured it, Dean likely would be handcuffed to the bed and Sam would be doing the most evil, delicious, sexual things to him that his long years had taught him how to do.

When Sam heard the trunk close, he snapped out of his meanderings concerning Dean. Dean was a hunter in need and Sam would treat him as such.

Crap, if Dean was going to bring in those stench coated weapons, he better get the pizza moved away from his proximity. The smell of pizza and the deadman's blood combined might well cause his meal to revisit him.

Sam moved the pizza and beers over to the desk, away from the table. There had been a complimentary newspaper outside their door that morning. He grabbed it and hastily spread its sheets across the table, making ready whatever little he could for Dean. Maybe Dean would start by rinsing the worst of the blood off in the shower. That would help tremendously. That thought at the forefront of his mind, he pulled back the shower curtain and when the outside door opened, made that suggestion.

As Dean walked out to his car he had to admit he felt a hell of a lot better now with food in his stomach, and with a few more glasses of that tequila would probably take the edge of any lingering ache in his muscles and soreness in his back. That would certainly be good for sitting in a car for several hours tonight, as long as he didn’t have too many. But he hadn’t gotten drunk in years, and he didn’t plan to now. Not after the last time.

Dean frowned to himself and pushed those thoughts away. Not wanting to think about that right now. Though as he let his hand slide over the warm black paint as he walked around the side to the trunk he couldn’t help remembering how his father’s car had looked the first time he’d seen it after the accident.

Bobby had the wreck towed to his salvage yard after the accident and kept it there for him while he’d been in the hospital, even though it had hardly looked more like a twisted pile of metal. Utterly destroyed, much like the rest of his life. The fact that Dean had survived that crash was probably nothing short of a miracle. It had taken Dean almost two months to restore the car, putting it back together piece by piece, Bobby trying to do the same to him.

He was grateful to the older hunter for that. Dean knew he wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for Bobby. It was kind of poetic or something when he’d finally drove the impala down that dirt road leading out of the salvage yard. Both of them more or less “repaired” but to this day there were little things about the car, how it handled, how the door sounded when he closed it, that reminded him it wasn’t quite the same and never would be.

Dean shook his head with a sigh as he opened up the trunk and flipped open the secret compartment. Wrinkling his nose a little at the smell, and no wonder the damn vampires had picked up on it. It was said once a vampire got your scent they never forgot it. Could track you down virtually anywhere. Yeah, it was probably best they moved tonight, keeping ahead of not just Bobby.

He started gathering up the pieces of the broken bottle, glad it had been wrapped well at least so that was fairly easy, and tossed them in a nearby trashcan. Then he started tossing the weapons that had dried blood on them into a bag. At least most of the blood had gotten onto things he could wash off easily enough, he’d come back out later to wipe up the bottom of the trunk.

Hefting the bag Dean was reminded he was less than a hundred percent right now and grunted a little in discomfort as he shut the trunk. Carrying the bag of weapons inside he was pleased to see the table already covered with newspaper and heard Sam’s suggestion from the bathroom and agreed. Carrying the bag into the bathroom and letting it drop to the floor next to the shower.

Sam removed himself from the bathroom as quickly as he could, but tried to keep it casual, as if he was merely getting out of Dean's way. He swallowed back his gag reflex as he passed through the unpleasant odor left in the wake of the bloodied weapons. It really wasn't that bad, but in the car he had managed to keep moving and keep the smell away from him for the most part. Sitting in here with weapons coated with a poison to his kind just really wasn't appealing to him. Given enough time, the smell was going to catch up with him. The pizza was good, but he would prefer not to taste it a second time.

Okay, so Dean had a fever. It wasn't bad though and Dean was obviously feeling better. Surely Sam could escape for an hour or so without fearing for Dean's safety. The bar was just down the way on the main road, maybe six or seven blocks, not like there were really "blocks" in most Texas towns. People would be getting off work soon and stopping in the bar, and maybe he could find someone willing to make a quick buck. More than anything else, he just wanted to get away from the smell. He hadn't expected Dean to jump right up when Sam mentioned the weapons. It had been kind of nice just sitting, eating pizza, and drinking tequila. Godzilla wasn't really his type of movie, but otherwise, he was enjoying himself. He didn't realize how much he had missed companionable silence. It reminded him of the times he and Jessica had been together. The pizza and beer, the movie and the silence would eventually lead to her nestling up next to him. He would run his hand through her soft hair and she would run her hand over his chest and pretty soon they would fall asleep. It had been so very comfortable. Like now, just without the snuggling. But he had to ruin it by telling Dean about the weapons. Well he certainly hadn't wanted to clean them, and it would be nice for at least most of the smell to be gone when they got on the road that night.

Screw it. He hadn't had sex in weeks, Dean was driving him freaking nuts with desire, and now wasn't a perfect time, but it was an okay time. If Dean did start to turn, it would potentially only get worse from here on out and then he really would be reluctant to leave Dean's side. He could make the walk to the bar, make a quick sweep of it, and when he got back, he would shower and they could get on the road. It probably wouldn't be nightfall by then, but that was okay. It would be late enough the sun wouldn't be too bad.

With that decision made, he put his shirt back on and out of habit did a quick recon of the room. Salt lines in place, his personal things gathered and mostly packed. Yes, he could bolt at a moment's notice. Push came to shove, he could be out the door in less than a minute and that's the way he liked it.

"I'm going to leave you to your weapon cleaning. I'll be back in an hour or two," he called to Dean as he wrote down his cell number. "My number is by the phone. Call me if you need me."

Not waiting for Dean to answer, he headed out the door.

Dean turned on the water in the shower when Sam moved out of the way, giving him room to work. He bent down, grunting a little uncomfortably at the pull on his back as he opened up the bag and started taking out weapons. He started to rinse them off in the shower, making a face as he had to scrub at the thickly dried blood to get most of it to come off. The water running heavily red as it went down the drain. It wasn’t the most unpleasant task he’d ever had to do, but it was pretty damn close. Fuck, he didn’t know old blood could smell this bad. He’d smelled some pretty rank shit in his time, but this…

The young hunter only realized Sam hadn’t returned to help him when the other man called from the other room telling him he was leaving. What the hell? Where was he going? He’d already been out for hours, and he’d only just gotten back a little while ago. Dean set down the mostly clean blade he’d been working on in the sink as he went out to ask him just that, only to hear the outside door shut before Dean could get a word out.

Well, mother fuck. Dean cursed under his breath as he turned back to the bag of weapons lying on the floor that he now apparently had to clean by himself. Though to be honest, why he had assumed the other hunter would have been helping him with the task confused him for a moment. Maybe because the other man had been helping him with everything else so far too? From helping him to the bathroom to rubbing his fucking ass when he’d given him a massage to ease the tension in his muscles, helping him clean weapons didn’t seem like so much of a stretch.

But it wasn’t Sam’s job, it was Dean’s. It had always been Dean’s job, so the young man returned to his task with a heavy sigh. He got all the weapons washed off in the bathroom before carrying them all back into the main room. Laying them out on the table for him to work with along with the rags and other cleaning supplies he’d brought in from the Impala. Sitting down in the chair he started with the blades since those would be the quickest and he could get them out of his way. Then he started working on the guns. Taking them apart and cleaning and oiling each part thoroughly then putting them back together again, just the way his father had showed him.

He ignored the way his arms and back began to protest, moving more in the last hour than he had in the past few days. Not stopping until he was finished, and then he went back out to the car. Of course he hadn’t failed to notice wherever Sam had gone it had to be nearby since he didn’t take the car this time. Where the hell had he gone then that would take this long?

Unlocking the trunk Dean began cleaning out the remainder of the blood from the back, gagging a few times in spite of himself before he was done. Convinced he’d gotten it all out and returned his weapons to their proper place. He threw the dirty towels into the trash he’d thrown the glass in earlier and it was probably a good thing they were leaving tonight since someone was probably going to find all that blood and pitch a fit.

Exhausted Dean returned to the room, cleaned the blood off his hands in the bathroom, before returning to lay down on the bed again. Despite the way his body was protesting at him for doing all that work, he was asleep within seconds after closing his eyes.

It was a hot walk, even though it wasn't a particularly long walk and there were enough trees he could stay out of the sun a good part of the time. Still he was grateful to find the bar cool and dim and sure enough, the after work crowd had begun to gather. A man probably around Dean's age and a younger woman were tending bar. Sam sat down at the wooden bar, ordered a tequila, and let his eyes rove across the crowd. There were decent lookers of either gender, but only a few who were decidedly alone at the moment. He gave a couple of the solo men a definite once over and waited to see if there were any takers. He was on his second drink when one of the men he'd eyed slid onto the barstool beside him.

"You're new in town," the young man said quietly.

"Stopped in late last night. Leaving in a few hours. Was hoping for a bit of …recreation… before I left," Sam answered back, giving the man a smirk, keeping his voice as quiet as the newcomer's. "Know of any one who might be interested?"

The man blushed a little. "Uh, maybe."

Damn, Sam was such a sucker for guys who blushed. "Not your first time, I hope?" Sam asked. He really didn't want a virgin. He wanted a down and dirty quicky and he wouldn't do that to a virgin.

The man shook his head. "Just, uh, broke up."

"Your partner leave you?"

The young man nodded. "For a girl," he said miserably. "He never told me he was bi."

"Ouch." Sam took another drink of his tequila. "I'm just looking for something fast," he said softly. "You cool with that?"

The young man chewed on his lip a minute. "You sleep around a lot?"

Sam smiled kindly at his concern. "I'm clean. I lost my partner a few years back to an accident. It's just been a while," he said with a shrug.

"Sorry," the young man murmured. The young man took another draw off of his beer. "My boyfriend and I were always kind of discreet. The town's small, everyone knows everyone else's business. It's always been a kind of don't ask, don't tell sort of thing."

"I fine with discreet. There a place nearby? I don't have long before I have to leave."

"Out back there's a place that people use for making out. Unless you want to go somewhere else."

"No, that's fine. You want to leave first, or should I?"

The young man gave him a shy relieved smile. "You first. Just go around back to the corner of the building away from the door. I'll meet you there in a few minutes?"

Sam gave a slight nod. He tossed back his drink then slapped the young man on the back. "Thanks for the directions," he said in a normal voice. "It's always tough to be sure which restaurant in a small town is the place to go."

Sam headed out the door without a second glance. He walked casually, waiting to make sure no one saw him slip around back. The young man didn't keep him waiting long and led Sam to a small shack just off the back parking lot. A mattress and a couple blankets lay on the shacks floor. Sam was a little startled when he had hardly gotten inside and the man had his lips plastered to Sam's.

Enthusiasm. He liked enthusiasm. He let his hands roam over the young man, getting to know his body a little as he rubbed his crotch against the man's own. The man was getting hard as fast as Sam. The man kissed deep and thoroughly and just didn't waste anytime getting Sam's jean's undone and his hand on Sam's cock. The man groaned into Sam's mouth as he began to slowly work Sam.

Sam broke the kiss and moved to the man's neck, sucking hard over the carotid, sensing that tempting blood rushing through the man's veins. The man worked Sam a little harder and groaned a little louder as Sam licked and nipped and sucked the man's neck, but was careful not to draw blood. Sam cupped the man's ass, squeezing, then undid the man's jeans and worked them down, reaching inside to what he wanted; the cock that he wished was Dean's. Just that thought made him groan.

"Want inside of you," Sam breathed into the man's ear. "Let me fuck you."

"God yes," the man whispered and started to turn.

Sam stopped him. "Not that fast, sweetheart," Sam murmured, fingering the man's balls. He slowly pulled the man's t-shirt up and over his head. He took his time as he licked his way down the young man's chest, giving a few minutes focus to each needy nipple, then continued down until he reached the man's cock. The man wasn't as big as Dean, but that was okay. He teased and tormented the man with his tongue until he finally took the man's stiff member in his mouth.

While he began to hum and pull and suck and lick, he pulled the lube from his pocket. After lubing up his fingers he worked them into the man slowly, one at a time, stretching the man's hole, making it ready for him. He grinned at the sounds the man made, at the way he tried to fuck Sam's mouth, at the precome Sam licked away. Sam pulled his lips off the man's cock with a pop.

"Now you're ready," Sam said, shoving his three fingers in as deeply as he could, and working them, watching the man shudder and groan. He turned the man around and pulled him down to his hands and knees. After lubing himself he lined himself up with the man's hole and slowly slid in, pausing to let the man adjust to his size before pushing in further. It didn't take long until he was buried deeply in the man. It felt so good, that tight heat around him, the sweating body beneath him. He liked the control, the ability to make the man squirm under him as he gave small erratic pumps, hitting that prostate just right, reaching around and working the mans cock with his lubed hand. Sam began to fuck him, first slowly then harder and harder, drawing out their pleasure as long as he could. This was going to have to sate him, this was going to have to satisfy him so he didn't all but molest the man he wanted to so desperately.

They finally both came, the young man a bit before Sam, the man's orgasm forcing Sam's own as the man's sphincter tightened then released Sam's cock. Sam kept his cry of relief as soft as he could, wishing he were shouting Dean's name, wishing it was Dean's back he was licking the sweat from. For as good as this had been, even for a quicky, Sam knew it really hadn't worked. He practically wanted Dean even more if that were possible.

Well, shit.

Sam finally pulled out of the young man and the young man all but collapsed and rolled onto his back, looking into Sam's face with wonder.

"That was…unbelievable. Some of the best sex I've ever had. God what could you do if we had an evening," the man said, still panting from the exertion as he ran his hands over Sam's chest.

Sam grinned and lowered himself onto the man, rubbing against the man as he kissed him deeply. Pulling away, he said, "You weren't so bad yourself, and you are one good kisser."

The young man smiled dreamily. "You sure you can't stay a few days? I'd make it worth your while. He arched against Sam, dragging his cock along Sam body.

"I can't," Sam said regretfully. If he didn't have Dean to deal with, he might have taken the young man up on his offer. Of course, if he didn't have Dean to deal with, he probably wouldn't have been out in the bar picking up a quicky in the first place. He lay comfortably with the man for a few minutes before finally pushing himself up and redressing. He helped the young man up and into his own clothes, his hands teasing the man a little as he did.

"I don't know your name," the young man said.

Sam ran his fingers along the man's cheek. "Let's keep it that way. If I end up back in the area, I'll find you. Don't worry. And I'll tell you my name then." Sam grinned and looked at the hellacious hickey he left on the man, running one finger over it. "And you can show that baby off to your ex," Sam said with a laugh.

The man grinned. "He always was jealous. Since he's in the bar right now, he'll know it was you I was with, and," the man looked down at the ground, blushing once again, "you are one good looking guy."

Sam kissed him. "Don't sell yourself short. I have to get back." He paused for a minute. "But I really ought to pick up a bottle or two of tequila. They sell bottles in the bar?"

"Yeah, but it would be cheaper at the store up the road."

"I gotta walk back to the hotel as it stands. This is just as easy. It's not worth the few bucks I'd save."

"I'll drive you," the man offered. "To the store and the hotel."

Sam considered a moment then gave a nod. "I'll just get the bottles here, but I wouldn't mind a ride back to the motel and … you're not hoping for a second go round are you?"

The young man laughed softly. "I wouldn't say no, but I get that you have to go."

Sam beamed. "I'll definitely look you up if I get back this way."

After making sure he was presentable, he returned to the bar and stepped up to the counter. The woman behind the bar met his look with expectant eyes. "I'd like to buy two bottle of tequila. The best you've got," Sam said.

"I'll have to go in back for the second. We've only got one full one up front," she said and after getting a nod from him, headed back to the stock room.

Sam leaned on the bar while waiting for her return, randomly listening in to conversations.

"….and she thought he was single! Hello! Wedding ring!...."

"…good colt, good markings, you ought to come look at her…"

"…choices you made for stock. I would sell this and buy…"

"…sixty-seven Impala, two men, one with brown-blond hair cut real short."

Sam swung his gaze toward the grizzled older man talking with the male bartender. He recognized the voice from the cell when the man was talking with Dean. So this was Bobby. Holy fucking crap! How the hell had the man tracked them to here? Dean wasn't kidding when he said the old man was good. And that good of a hunter had a real high potential of marking him as a vampire. That was not something Sam decidedly did no want to test. Sam listened to the exchange between hunter and bartender. No one had seen the car. Good. He hadn't driven it around this town, trying to keep as low a profile as he could. Bobby had just stopped here for dinner apparently, but the man looked tired. If he asked about a hotel to crash at, Sam and Dean's place was the closest.

When the woman returned with the tequila, Sam handed over the cash and walked out the door. He hurried to the back lot where his short term lover sat in an old green pickup truck.

"Thanks. You don't know how much I appreciate this. I just got a call. My friend and I have to hit the road, like ten minutes ago."

"As in boyfriend?" the man asked as he pulled out of the lot.

Sam sighed. "Only in my dreams, I'm afraid. Which is why I needed a quick fix."

The young man laughed, but Sam heard the sympathy in it. "I hope I helped."

Sam nodded. "You did. Thanks."

They rode in silence the short drive.

Sam pointed to the office. "Right there would be good."

After the young man parked the truck he reached out and grabbed Sam's arm.

"Wait," the young man said and motioned Sam to lean closer. Instead of the kiss Sam expected, the man's lips went to his throat and bit and sucked hard. Sam groaned as the young man worked on his neck. Dammit, he didn't need another hard on, but he couldn't bring himself to make the young man stop. He didn't have time for this, but it felt so freaking good.

The young man gave Sam's neck a final lick, then wiped away his saliva with a bandana. He chuckled. "Maybe that'll make your guy jealous."

Sam laughed and gave the young man a final kiss. "Thanks."

Sam waved at the young man as the truck pulled away and then headed into the office. He gave a smile to the old woman behind the counter. "I'm checking out. He stepped in a little closer. "Look, my boyfriend's old man isn't really happy him and I are together." Sam laid down three hundred dollars. "Do you think you and your husband, and any staff you have, could forget we were here? His old man just hit town and might be around asking after us."

The woman cocked an eyebrow at Sam and at the money on the counter. "I'm certain for an extra hundred, not only could we forget, but you could be certain no amount of green might bring our memories back."

Sam sighed and put another hundred on the counter. "Thanks," he said insincerely and headed back to his and Dean's room.

Opening the door fully expecting Dean to be watching the TV, he discovered Dean sound asleep on the bed. Sam paused just a moment, studying Dean's face. He was truly a beautiful looking man. Those lips. Those enticing lips…

Sam gently shook Dean's shoulder. "C'mon, Dean. We have to go. Bobby hit town."

Dean came awake instantly, despite his exhaustion, to the light shaking. Instantly alert his fingers were already wrapped tightly around the wrist of the hand that had shaken him, his other hand already reaching underneath his pillow for the silver knife he always kept there, ready in case of an intruder… except there wasn’t one there this time. Because he hadn’t put one there, he hadn’t been conscious the first time he’d been brought into the room, and simply hadn’t thought to when he’d finished cleaning the weapons, because he hadn’t planned on falling asleep.

Thankfully the events of the past couple of days came rolling back to the front of his mind just as quickly. He realized where he was, who had woken him, and almost as quickly as he’d grabbed the other man he released him with a soft grunted apology. Then Sam’s words finally registered.

Bobby? He was here? Sam had seen him? Where?

Dean sat up quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, his mouth opening to ask when he became aware of something else, something entirely unexpected, the smell of booze and… sex. Sam’s slightly rumpled appearance as well as the bright fucking hickey on his neck pretty much proved it and Dean felt anger flash through him so quickly it left him almost dizzy, though it might have had something to do with the smell too. Christ, Sam smelled like a fucking whorehouse. So that’s where Sam had fucking ran off to? To get drunk and fuck while he spent the last couple of hours cleaning up all that blood?

“Let’s go.” Dean bit out before his lips flattened into a thin line and he pushed himself up from the bed. Again maybe quicker than he should have been moving right now, but he ignored the discomfort as he began grabbing up what little of his things were left out and shoving them into his duffel.

Oh yeah, he was pissed off. He wasn’t even sure why he was so pissed off. True, he’d decided earlier he wasn’t going to be irritated at the other man for leaving him to clean the weapons and the car all by himself, but that was when he thought Sam had something else important to do. Not run off to the bar for a quick fuck and leave him behind like he was some kind of fucking housewife.

Dean was not a fucking housewife, and if the bastard thought he was so much of an invalid he couldn’t even bring him along for a fucking drink then why had he mentioned the weapons at all? Hell, even his father had never done anything that shitty to him. At least, not since Dean had been old enough to pass for twenty one, and not unless he was punishing Dean for something, but what the hell did he care? Why should he give a damn what the other hunter thought of him? The other man was only sticking around for one reason, after all, to kill Dean if he started to turn into a fucking vampire. That was it. Just because the man had taken care of him, given him a shower, and a fucking massage, didn’t mean they were engaged or anything.

He cursed under his breath as he hefted his duffel without help, something he probably definitely shouldn’t have done right now, but fuck it. Dean walked over to the table and grabbed his keys and walked out the door. Tossing his stuff in the trunk and then going over to the driver’s side, sure he felt pretty shitty right now and tired, but there was no way he was going to let Sam drive his car when he was cocked.

Sam wasn’t terribly surprised by the sudden grip around his wrist, but he was surprised by the strength of it. When Dean’s hand dove under the pillow Sam knew Dean must typically keep a weapon secreted there that he apparently had not yet thought to replace. The fog cleared quickly from Dean’s eyes as Dean released his wrist as quickly as he grabbed it giving Sam an apology. Sam saw the minor wince that crossed Dean's face when he sat up.

Expecting the questions he saw Dean about to ask, he was startled by the look Dean gave him. Dean wasn’t just mad. He was pissed. Pissed as hell. At Sam.

Dean snapped his order and didn’t say anything more, just shoved his things into his duffel, muttered curses as he lifted the duffel he surely shouldn't be caring, grabbed the keys and stomped off in fury. Sam quickly grabbed his own things, almost fearing Dean was going to leave him there. He wouldn’t…would he? When Sam gathered his grooming kit from the bathroom he caught his reflection in the mirror. His looked rumpled and the young man had done a good job on his throat. It was still gaining color. It was impressive.

Okay so it was pretty obvious what Sam had done during the time he had been gone. Maybe…maybe Dean was jealous? Sam clutched that hope to his heart as he finished putting his things together and shoved the two bottles of tequila down inside his pack. The Impala was already started and Dean was behind the wheel when Sam stepped out in the lengthening shadows of the day. Dean wouldn’t look at him and any start of a hard on the young man had given Sam faded in that instant. Sam felt about ten inches tall. He shouldn't. Dammit he went out to get laid so he wouldn't jump Dean at first opportunity. Well, and to get away from that god awful smell of the dead man's blood. After tossing his bags into the back seat, he was barely in the car before Dean pealed out of the parking lot.

“You’ll want to go left. The bar…Bobby’s to the right. I bribed the hotel owners to keep quiet about us if Bobby asks,” Sam offered quietly.

Dean didn’t answer as he spun the wheel sharply, fishtailing as he left the parking lot. Nothing like being discreet.

“We’ll need to stop soon at an ATM. I’m about out of cash,” Sam said. He had maybe twenty-five dollars left on him and he didn’t like to be that lean on cash.

Instead of answering him, Dean shoved a tape into the tape player. Sam thought it was Motorhead, but wasn’t certain. Dean cranked it, rolled down the window and put his elbow out the window and pressed harder on the gas as he careened the car down the country roads.

Three hours of silence and failed attempts at conversation finally got to Sam. He was almost afraid to ask, almost afraid of the answer. A part of him knew the answer already. He just didn't want it confirmed. He didn't want to know Dean had absolutely no interest in him. He would rather day dream than swallow the bitter pill of truth.

“Look, I get that you’re pissed at me. I’m sorry," Sam said, putting every last bit of apology into his voice as he could. He really was sorry for whatever he had done. "Are you pissed at me because I went out and got laid, or because you're interested in me and I didn't ask you?"

Dean barely waited until Sam got both of his feet into the car before he pulled out of the parking space quickly. While Sam had still been in the room gathering his things Dean had considered for the briefest moment just to drive away. He had enough things to worry about right now.

Healing from the three days he'd spent as a vampire chew toy, the uncertainty of whether or not he had been fed blood and might turn into a vampire himself, staying away from Bobby (the closest thing he had left to family) until he was certain, and his inevitable death if he did start to turn. Yeah, he had more than enough on his plate right now. The last thing he needed to deal with right now was anything else complicated and whatever was going on between them was quickly heading towards the complicated zone.

The only thing stopping him was the fact that he didn't need two pissed off hunters on his ass trying to track him down, and the fact that if he did start to turn it would be kind of hard to cut off his own head. For the time being he needed Cristo and damn if that thought didn't make him even more pissed off.

Dean turned the car left at Sam's "suggestion" but when the other man tried to talk to him he grabbed one of his tapes, not really caring which one it was, and cranking up the volume to just shy of ear splitting. Rolling down the window so he wouldn't have to smell the scent of booze, sweat, or sex while he drove and did his best to ignore his passenger as he put as many miles between that town, and Bobby, and themselves as possible.

He was grateful when the sun finally set below the horizon, the glare had been really starting to get to him and he couldn't remember where he'd put his sunglasses. One thing was for sure, he wasn't leaning over towards the passenger seat to search the glove compartment and he wasn't asking Sam to look for him.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, trying to ignore how exhausted he felt for driving even this short amount of time, as well as Sam's attempts at conversation. His anger had faded somewhat, probably because he was too tired to really concentrate on it, much less figure out the reason he'd been so pissed off to begin with. However when Sam finally made his "apology" and asked that question… if he was… what the fuck!

Dean's head snapped around to look at the other man so fast it was a wonder he didn't receive whiplash, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head, his mouth opening though for a moment nothing but inarticulate sounds emerged. But when the car swerved a little due to his inattention Dean quickly focused back on the road, fingers tightening on the steering wheel till his knuckles were near bone white.

"I'm not… some fucking jilted prom date! I don't give a rat's ass who or what you do!" Dean finally snapped, fuming, though of course a nasty little voice inside of him whispered, then why is that exactly what you're acting like? He told that voice to go to hell. They'd only known each other for about a day. They weren't friends. They weren't even hunting partners. They weren't anything to each other. What the hell did he care what Sam did and who he did it with? He didn't…

"I care that you got yourself wasted when you said yourself we had to leave in a few hours. I care that you went out for a quick fuck while I had to clean up that rancid smelling blood… You know what? Forget it, I don't give a damn." Dean forced indifference into his tone, barely resisting the urge to crank up the volume on his tape player just a little more to signal the conversation was fucking over.

Sam wasn't sure what to expect. Maybe more silence. The outburst from Dean wasn't entirely…unexpected. He didn't expect the accusation of being drunk. He hadn't been drunk in a good couple years. He drank now and again, but rarely to excess. Alcohol just made him thirstier and water did not quench that thirst. A drunk vampire generally meant a dangerously hungry one. The fact that Dean would accuse of him of going out and tying one on when he figured he would be driving in just an hour or so? Did Dean really think he was that irresponsible? Sam felt his own temper snap at that point. It surely had nothing to do with the fucking ear-splitting music screaming out of the Impala's speakers for the past hours that had given him a wicked headache. Nothing to do with the cold silence. Nothing to do with …Dean having no interest in him.

"I had two fucking drinks! Watered down, pissy ass drinks at the bar. Yeah. Yeah, I went there to get laid. For one, the smell of that blood had me ready to heave. For another, anytime I touch your stuff I see the look in your eyes like I'm going to ruin something or break something. I didn't figure you would want me touching your weapons. God, I might scratch something. Or not re-assemble that gun in just the right way, or fuck up the sight on a rifle. Never mind I've been a hunter for years. Never mind I left my fucking car sitting in a motel parking lot while I'm on the run with you, while you run from your friend so you don't have to see the look of disgust in his eyes if you turn, or see the pain it would cause him to kill you. No, I'm just some cold hearted bastard who doesn't give a damned about you. I sharpen my machete every night just waiting for you to show the first sign of turning. Then I'll hack off your head and dance on your burning grave. I won't remember helping you to the bathroom, helping you to clean yourself up in the shower, getting you dinner, giving you a massage that made me so fucking hard I …"

Sam ended his rant abruptly. Fuck! He hadn't meant to say anything. Dean didn't need to know Sam wanted him so badly he was ready to feed Dean his own blood just to keep Dean at his side. Or at least in his bed.

Dean was probably a rotten fuck anyhow. It didn't matter. It just didn't matter. Sam tried really hard to believe both those lies. Sam turned his back to Dean and stared out into the night. Hell, any minute Dean was probably going to slam on the brakes and shove Sam out the door in the middle of BFE Texas. Sam was just a cold hearted killer anyhow. He didn't have any feelings to speak of. Why should it matter?

Sam found his eyes beginning to water. Not tears, but he knew he was close to them. It just simply hurt so deeply that he had left for those couple hours so he wouldn't make a move on Dean. So he and Dean could continue their simple relationship. He could awaken next to the handsome man and give him an innocent good morning while he dreamed of butt-fucking Dean senseless.

And then to have Dean basically accuse him of being a selfish lust-driven bastard. Never mind that if he hadn't gone out they wouldn't have gotten the jump on Bobby. Maybe it was best if they hadn't. If Bobby came, Sam could slip quietly away and not have to think of the handsome young man ever again. That was sounding more and more attractive. Dean hadn't turned yet. It was growing less and less likely he was going to. He didn't need Sam anymore….he didn't want Sam. He never had.

When Sam snapped back at him, denying he’d been drunk, having had only two watered down drinks, yeah right, not from what Dean smelled, he grit his teeth so hard he began to get a headache. As the other man continued to rant, his fingers wound themselves so tightly around the steering wheel they began to hurt, and he honestly thought the metal under his grip might twist and bend the amount of pressure he was putting on it if he wasn’t careful. He was half a second away from slamming on his breaks and kicking the asshole out of his car when Sam admitted, unwittingly perhaps, how the massage he’d given Dean earlier had affected him and Dean felt his heart rate shoot through the roof.

That was all Dean could hear, the harsh beating of his heart against his ribcage, the silence of the car was suddenly so deafening. Not so “innocent” after all… when the other man had touched him… felt him up was more like it… and Dean had laid there and allowed it. Had enjoyed it… and in the shower, and bed that morning…

Fuck.

Sam didn’t say anything else, and Dean was quite content by that point to ignore the other man’s existence entirely. Refusing to replay over and over in his mind every single moment that had passed between them and look for the sexual overtones in it, god damn it, he usually wasn’t so damn oblivious to when someone wanted him. Or maybe he’d been willfully oblivious, content to believe the other hunter was merely waiting around, waiting for him to turn, sharpening his machete, as Sam put it.

Why did it bother him so much that Sam wanted him? Or maybe the problem was it didn’t bother him enough… no, he hadn’t done anything like that in years, and he certainly wasn’t planning to start. Yeah, he owed the guy for saving his skin, but he certainly didn’t owe him that. Especially since he knew now every time the other man had gotten an eyeful or more he’d probably been sprouting a woody and thinking about him like… God damn it! He said he wasn’t going to think about it!

He’d drive until they hit a town big enough that there was bound to be both a motel and some kind of car rental place. Stay the night, in separate rooms this time. The next morning pay for a rental so the guy could go back and pick up his own car, he owed Sam that much, and that would be the end of it. He’d never have to see Sam again.

It would be better that way. This was already too complicated, and Dean didn’t do complicated.

So he drove. Occasionally changing tapes in the player when one would run out, but otherwise allowing the silence to reign between them. Ignoring how sitting so long in one position, putting pressure on his wounded back, made the various muscle aches in his barely recovered body begin to turn to screaming pains rather than mere aches. The pain enough to keep him awake and alert for the most part but sheer exhaustion soon began to win over even his stubbornness.

The next exit he saw that advertized cheep rooms, Dean turned off on. Parking the car in the Motel 8 lot in front of the office Dean got out of the car without waiting for Sam and walked in. He felt, and probably looked, like hell considering the look the middle aged woman behind the counter gave him when she looked up from filing her nails and watching an “I Love Lucy” rerun. Dean didn’t really give a damn.

“Hi, I need two rooms.” He said, reaching for his wallet, he might not have any cash but he still had his fake credit cards. At least one of them was an alias that Bobby didn’t know about so the older hunter wouldn’t be able to track him with that.

“Singles or doubles?” The woman asked him, as he handed over his fake card and she started scribbling down his information. Not even batting an eye at the probably fairly uncommon request of someone wanting two rooms.

“Singles.” He said, taking back his card, his receipt, and two room keys he went back out the door. Got in the car without a word, and drove them around back to where their rooms were. They just had to be right next to each other. Fucking perfect.

When Dean shut off the engine he tossed Sam’s key into the other man’s lap with a short, “That’s yours,” and didn’t wait for the other man’s response as he got out of the car and went around to the trunk for his bag. Fumbling with his keys for a moment, god damn it when had his hands started shaking, before finally getting it open. Hefting his duffle with a grunt of discomfort, half considering just leaving it in the car, not like he really needed anything from it tonight. Oh well, too late now, he thought as he slammed the trunk closed and started towards his room. Looking forward to collapsing on his bed and sleeping for a week.

The silence was deafening. It was painful. It was unbreakable. There was nothing he could say to undo what he had said. Dean wasn't bi. Sam had expected that. Really, deep down, he had. That also meant Dean was probably remembering every time he was exposed to Samuel and imagining the lust-driven bastard that was Sam leering at him and ready to take him when Dean's guard was down.

Sam hadn't leered. He had admired…but maybe Dean's thoughts weren't so far off. He had wanted to jump the man since he had first laid eyes on him. Not since Jessica…he glanced over at Dean. The beautiful lines of Dean's face, the defined muscles underneath his t-shirt, the bulge in his jeans that Sam had seen and never gotten to touch. Not in the way he wanted to anyhow. He saw the man's exhaustion and the pain he was suffering and knew that it wouldn't matter if he offered to drive. Dean would never permit 'the lush' behind the wheel. Dean was a hunter. Pain was their way of life.

He hadn't been affected by someone like this since Jessica. As with Jessica, it had been an immediate gut-deep attraction. He laughed sadly to himself. With his luck, it was a surprise Jessica hadn't been a lesbian.

He certainly hadn't always been bi. When he was human, the thought of sleeping with another man would have put him into a reaction…not unlike Dean's. Disgusted at the thought, disgusted by the man who even hinted at it. Until Michael. It was about thirty years (thirty years, four months and five days) when Stasi turned Michael. Michael was beautiful like Dean was. And Sam couldn't take his eyes off that man either. He was horrified by his thoughts and got laid every chance he had in some vain effort to stop the sinful dreams of he and Michael together. Michael was bi, but more interested in men than women. Anytime Michael was with someone other than Stasi—okay, maybe even with Stasi, Sam would get pissy as hell. Michael apparently wasn't as oblivious as Dean was as to what he did to Sam. After three torturous months, Michael slipped into his bed and planted featherlight kisses on Sam's neck as he spooned himself against Sam. Sam froze, wanting to shove the man out of his bed while another part deep in him begged for the man's touch. He felt Michael's erection against him and felt his own cock respond. Michael's hands gently caressed his back, his chest, his buttocks and finally Michael turned Sam to him and told him it was okay. It was natural if there was that sort of attraction between two people. And then Michael kissed him. That was all the further encouragement Sam needed. He all but devoured Michael as Michael devoured him and taught him how to make love to a man.

Michael had died twenty two years later, a hunter's machete across his throat. Sam had killed the hunter, ripping him apart and drinking his blood. Stasi had to stop him or Sam would have shown the world how vicious a vampire could be. He had never felt such agony of loss, not even when his wife and children had been killed.

He mourned for Michael for the next …he still mourned Michael's loss. He couldn't deny that. Just as he still mourned Elizabeth. Just as he still mourned Jessica. He had never been able to really let go of those he truly, deeply loved. That, he supposed, was one of the curses of staying more human that vampire.

Maybe Dean simply reminded him of Michael. And then rescuing him from the vampire nest harkened back to how he and Jessica had become lovers. Just memories blended together into Dean.

It was time to turn off the dreams and the hormones. Dean hadn't thrown him out of the car, therefore some part of Dean recognized he still needed Sam around. At least another two days. Just to make certain. Sam didn't imagine he would get to see Dean naked again though. And that was probably just as well. He doubted he would even ever get to touch that precious body…dammit, hormones off, Cristo, he told himself.

Dean only made it six hours before he pulled the car off at an exit. The car probably needed gas and Dean probably had to piss. Sam was a little surprised when instead of a gas station Dean pulled into a hotel. At least it wasn't a crappy, flea-infested, raunchy smelling place. Sam wouldn't have been able to sleep in one of those without the odor getting to him. Especially not tonight.

Waiting in the car, Sam sighed softly. He had screwed it up from here to hell and back. Two days, and Dean would never have to see him again. Funny how Sam already felt the hole in his chest and he had never even made love to the man. Never had a chance to show him how sex (love) between two men could be. He would mourn Dean's loss and Dean wouldn't even be dead.

The key landing in his lap shouldn't have surprised him, certainly shouldn't have hurt him, but it did. He stayed in the car, not moving, watching Dean head back to the trunk and grab his things, saw the pain and exhaustion, and damn did Dean look like death warmed over. He was pale, practically white, as he walked unsteadily toward his room.

And that's when Sam saw Dean's knees give.

He was at Dean's side instantly, the key in his lap tumbling to the asphalt. Sam prayed it was just exhaustion and nothing more. Maybe Dean was hungry. It had been a good eight hours since Dean had eaten. Maybe that was it. His heart fell into his stomach when he his hand touched Dean's bare flesh as he cradled Dean in his arms. It was no longer a low-grade fever. Dean was turning.

He lifted Dean as if he were the most precious thing in the world and carried the man into the hotel room, laying him gently on the bed. He ran his hand along Dean's pale face.

"I'm so sorry Dean," Sam whispered.

Dean wasn't sure exactly what had happened. One second he'd been walking to his motel room. The next second he was on the ground. It was the second time he'd fallen on his ass in two days… or was it the same day? He wasn't even sure anymore… Pushing himself too hard, only this time there wasn't anything to break his fall on the hard asphalt.

Fuck. If he thought he hurt before, that was a picnic compared to the way he felt now. His head was spinning, throbbing painfully, he couldn't concentrate, but he recognized the feel of Sam's arms around him almost immediately. Practically cradling him in fact in his arms, not unlike the first time the other man had helped him when he'd fallen.

Like the first time, Dean couldn't seem to bring himself to refuse the other man's help, even though he wanted to. Considering how… complicated… things had gotten since the first time. He wanted to tell the other man he was fine. That he could make it on his own. That he didn't need help. Only he wasn't, he couldn't, and he did. And at that moment he felt too out of it to even lie.

Maybe he blacked out for a few minutes, he wasn't sure. He thought he felt Sam pick him up, carry him into his room, lay him down on the bed. But when he opened his eyes he still felt confused as to how he'd gotten there. With Sam hovering over him, looking at him so worriedly, and touching his face so… tenderly.

Dean blinked up at the other man in confusion. Trying to ignore the way his stomach clenched in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant, even though the way Sam was looking at him was beginning to unnerve him a little.

"I'm ok, just tired… I don't need you to babysit me…" Dean offered lamely, clearing his throat a little uncomfortably, but he didn't tell the other man to stop touching him. It was easier just to ignore it than to acknowledge it or the way it made him feel.

Dean looked confused and lost, and Sam ran his hand gently over Dean's hair. A part of Sam still hoped it was Dean's back, that maybe the infection had gotten worse and that was causing the fever. He wouldn't be sure until he rolled Dean over to take a look. If Dean was turning, which Sam knew in his heart was far more likely, then it would be a waiting game. He would refuse to kill Dean until Dean fully turned. Dean might still beat it, for one. For another, Sam would reveal himself as a vampire and show Dean that even if Dean was now a vampire, he could still do good. He could still hunt. He didn't have to die. If Dean chose death…Sam would honor that wish, no matter how much he didn't want to.

"No, Dean, you're not okay," Sam said softly. "You do need me here for you. And I will be. For as long as you need me, I'll be by your side. I promise." Sam smiled fondly at the young man, "And don't worry, I won't try to take advantage of you. I haven't yet, and I won't. Just because I'm strongly attracted to you, doesn't mean I can't keep it in my pants."

Sam glanced out the still open door. "Let me get our stuff inside and get your car locked up. Then we'll get you to bed so you can sleep. You pushed yourself too hard, and that's my fault. I'm sorry I left you alone at the hotel and went to the bar. It won't happen again."

Sam strode quickly out to pick up Dean's things and his key to the room next door, then grabbed his own things out of the back. After rolling up the windows he locked the car and then carried everything inside. Dean was watching him, but looked half asleep already.

After pulling back the covers on the side Dean wasn't laying on, Sam cam back around to Dean's side. "Dean, I'm going to get you out of your clothes so you'll sleep better. I want to see how your back is doing and you need to take some more antibiotics, too."

Seam unlaced Dean's boots and pulled them and his socks off. He got out a bottle of water and the antibiotics and helped Dean sit up to take them. Dean insisted on finishing the water so Sam let him. Since Dean was already partially sitting up, he helped Dean out of his t-shirt and took the opportunity to look at Dean's back.

The infections were gone. His wounds were healing, faster than they would be if Dean were merely…human. Sam closed his eyes briefly. He would stay quiet about it now. Dean didn't need to know. Sam undid Dean's jeans next, expecting Dean to protest, but he didn't. After pulling off his jeans, being very careful to keep Dean's shorts in place as he did so, he helped Dean under the covers.

Dean's muscles were all rocks again. Maybe from his body fighting against the virus, maybe from the tension of the drive. Dean's temperature had certainly increased, but it was still surely not more than maybe a hundred.

"If you want, I'll give you another massage," Sam offered, "but I won't touch you if you don't want me to."

When Sam’s hand moved from his face to stroking through his hair gently it took all of his willpower not to lean into the touch. Dean tried to deny how good it felt, but he wasn’t very successful, and he usually prided himself on being a good liar. Especially when lying to himself.

One thing was for certain, he didn’t like feeling like this. Vulnerable and confused, about Sam, and about his own feelings. Dean blamed both on how crappy he felt in general. Stress. The muscle aches. Fever. The fact that he couldn’t stand on his own two feet…

He hated being so weak. He’d taken care of himself since he was nineteen years old, after his father had been killed. Bobby had tried to convince him, back then, to stay with him for a little while, to let him look after him, hunt together, but Dean had refused. He didn’t need, or want, anyone looking after him. The last person who’d looked after him, he’d gotten killed. He’d kept in touch with Bobby because he knew that’s what his father would have wanted. They’d partnered together on a few hunts but always went their separate ways afterwards. It was better that way.

The mess he’d gotten himself in with the vampires, Cristo saving him, taking care of him, it had felt almost… natural… to let the other man do so. He didn’t know why. He didn’t want to know why. He didn’t want to consider that Sam’s accusations in the car had hit a little too close to home. He didn’t like the way Sam was looking at him. He didn’t like the way Sam was touching him. He didn’t like the promises Sam was making about being there for him. He didn’t need Sam. He didn’t…

If he could think clearly enough, maybe he’d even be able to tell Sam that. As it was, Dean could only stare at the other man with a slightly dumbfounded look. A bit of color touching his cheeks that had little to do with fever when Sam promised him he wouldn’t take advantage of him no matter how… attracted… he was…

Not that he didn’t believe Sam, Dean had to admit despite that he couldn’t know exactly what thoughts had been going through the other man’s head when he touched him, Sam’s touch had never been inappropriate. Well, despite the boner incident, but that could have happened even if Sam didn’t want to bang him and the other man had seemed just as embarrassed as he was over it.

Dean swallowed hard, unsure how to feel about Sam’s apology, as though he was sure of anything else. Though he managed a slight nod when Sam offered to get his things and lock up his car. He was a little more skeptical about Sam’s offer to get him ready for bed. He was perfectly fine sleeping like this. He could probably fall asleep right now actually if he just let his eyes close for a few minutes.

Even when Sam was gone, Dean’s thoughts wandered towards the other man. If Sam was so heartless and ruthless as Bobby had said, he wondered why Sam seemed to be going out of his way to be nice to him now. The other hunter had certainly seemed pissed off enough in the car. Maybe he was more expecting the other man to laugh at him when he’d fallen and leave him there on the ground while he went to his own room? No, he hadn’t expected anything like that. Sam hadn’t given him any reason to expect that even though his “reputation” said otherwise.

Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes, wishing his fucking headache would go away. He didn’t need this, he really didn’t.

He glanced over towards the door when he heard Cristo return. Managing a slight nod when Sam offered to get him undressed so he could sleep, too tired by then to argue even a little. Besides, he’d need to take his shirt off anyway for the other man to check his wounds. Not like he could stop the other man from getting an eyeful even if he wanted to.

So he allowed the other man to help him up, and took the pills Sam gave him. Drinking all the water down because he was so damned thirsty, and let Sam pull off his shirt. The other man not seeming to mind when Dean offered him little help during the process. He remained still while Sam checked his back and laid down with a small sigh when Sam eased him back against the pillows. A slight tremor of not quite unease traveling through him when the other man’s hands went to his jeans. But like always, Sam’s touch was professional, didn’t linger as he slid the rough material off, and helped him under the covers.

Sam’s offer to give him another massage though, after everything, did take Dean by surprise however, and for a moment he just looked at the other man, unsure how to answer. He knew he should refuse, if only because things were too damn complicated now. They both knew what the other would be thinking about and it was just a bad idea all around. But Dean hadn’t known what Sam had been thinking about before, and Sam hadn’t taken advantage of him. There was even less of a reason for him to try to do anything inappropriate, now that Dean knew, and would be watching for it. The massage had made him feel a lot better before. Enough to function without Sam’s help until he’d stupidly pushed himself much too hard afterwards. If he wanted to get by without Sam’s help, he was going to have to accept Sam’s help. God knew how long it would take his muscles to unknot by themselves.

After a moment longer of indecision, Dean finally nodded, “All right.”

Sam waited, watching the range of emotions wash over Dean's face. He was almost a little surprised when Dean agreed. It was going to suck for himself and he knew it. His concern for the young man might help him keep himself in check but he still knew it would be an effort to keep his promise to keep it in his pants. And when Dean gave his little blush…well, just crap. Even sick, Dean looked cute as hell. So vulnerable. So needy. And Sam wished Dean would let him comfort him as well as take care of him. But it was moot. Dean had made that perfectly clear.

Sam dug out the hand cream and as before, started on Dean's leg, at his upper thigh, but was very careful not brush against Dean's manhood. This time Dean was on his back, pillows under him, blankets covering all but the leg Sam was working on. With Dean on his back, Sam would have a chance to work out some knots he didn't have access to before. The mere thought that he would get to run his finger's over that wonderful chest and abs almost made him groan, but he didn't. He wouldn't. After he got done with Dean's front, he'd roll Dean over and finish up. Odds were good Dean would fall asleep long before he finished, anyhow. He wasn't quite sure where he was going to sleep yet, but he would worry about that after he was done giving Dean the massage he had promised.

He felt Dean tense up a little with Sam's hands so close to Dean's cock. Sam scolded him softly. "Would you relax? I promised you I wasn't going to touch and I won't. You've got just as many knots here in your upper thigh as everywhere else. If it'll make you feel better, I can charge you for the massage," Sam joked. "Keep it that much more professional and all."

Sam didn't look up to meet Dean's gaze but stayed determinedly focused on his task. The knots weren't quite as bad as before and they melted more readily under Sam's strong hand. Finished with one leg, he moved to the next. He was startled to see Dean was getting a little more enjoyment out of this massage than before, if the hint of the erection was anything to judge by. It was a natural reaction, Sam insisted. He'd gotten a hard on more than a few times when he had been given a massage. Even keeping it professional there was still some level of intimacy and Sam couldn't entirely keep that desire of intimacy out of his touch. He knew the extra little spots that could really melt someone, but he forced himself not to linger on them. Well, maybe he lingered just a little. He tried to keep his eyes from that slightly growing bulge beneath the blanket, but felt himself react all the same. Oh, yeah. He was really going to need a cold shower after this. After he jacked off, imagining Dean in the shower with him. So sue him. He could have his fantasies.

Before Sam even began, Dean began to doubt he’d made the right choice. Maybe he was a hell of a lot more feverish than he thought and it was impairing his judgment. He must have been out of his fucking mind for agreeing, since it took all of his willpower not to flinch when Sam’s hands rested on his upper thigh. Began caressing his knotted muscles there… couldn’t Sam have started somewhere else? Like his foot or something? He’d also expected… the other man to ask him to roll over onto his stomach. Not do it this way, on his back, where he would be able to see Sam’s face and Sam would be able to see his.

Yes, this was definitely a bad idea. He was even more tense now, and Sam’s insistence that he relax and reassurance that he wasn’t going to touch him there, where his hand was so close to, did nothing to really reassure him. Though the other man’s “joke”, almost dare, did kick in that legendary Winchester stubborn streak.

Dean became determined not to let the massage affect him. He wasn’t going to give Sam the pleasure of seeing him freak out. He wasn’t some kind of homophobe after all. He just… wasn’t interested. It was just business. It didn’t mean a thing.

So Dean forced himself to relax, looking at the ceiling since Sam wasn’t looking at him anyway, and sighing. All too soon Sam was done with one of his legs and moved onto the next, quick, business-like, professional, and Dean did have to admit he was beginning to feel better. Letting his eyes slip closed when they grew heavy with another sigh.

He purposefully ignored the parts of him that definitely weren’t relaxing thanks to the other man’s efforts, telling himself it would happen to anyone with another person’s hand rubbing that close to their crotch for an extended period. To be honest, he was almost too tired to care at that moment if Sam was enjoying the view a little too much or not. It was easy to be willfully oblivious with his eyes closed. Not so easy to ignore the small groans of enjoyment that kept escaping his throat, but denial was a wonderful thing.

He really wished Dean would stop moaning his pleasure. It made it that much freaking harder to concentrate and keep it professional. Dean was turning anyhow. What difference did it really make anyhow? This would all be over in a few days, with the most likely outcome being that of Sam burning Dean's decapitated body. He wouldn't drink from Dean either. He wouldn't make the beautiful man into food. That was just…wrong. Dean was a hunter after all and it was bad enough that he had been turned. To be turned, decapitated and then drained by another vampire was just disrespectful. Maybe if Dean had made a really lame mistake that had given himself away, but he hadn't. He deserved to die with as much honor as possible.

Sam worked on Dean's arms. His biceps and shoulders were like rocks. Probably from driving. Probably from gripping the wheel so tightly Sam had seen his knuckles go white. He would have thought Dean was already asleep if not for the continued occasional moans.

"Dean, I'm going to work on your abdomen and chest before I roll you over and work on your shoulders. If it bothers you, just tell me and we'll roll you over right then, okay?"

He thought he saw a nod, but it was hard to tell. He hoped Dean was still awake. He didn't want to get punched nor did he want to inadvertently give Dean a wet dream and be blamed for doing it intentionally. If he didn't think the massage of Dean's chest would help, he wouldn't be doing it. It wasn't his fault if he just happened to enjoy doing it.

Sam debated and decided starting low and working up would be better for both of them. It was all too sexual to work from the chest down, and Dean certainly didn't trust him that much.

He touched Dean lightly on his hip bones, watching Dean's face to make sure he wasn't upsetting the man. Dean flinched a little, but then Sam work slowly up Dean's abdomen. There was tension rather than knots but he still couldn't deny he loved the way Dean's six-pack abs felt under his massaging fingers. As soon as he felt the tension begin to drain, he moved up higher, massaged, and moved up higher. Okay, he was at Dean's gorgeous chest. He eyed the long healed scars as he massaged, briefly wondering what creature gave him those. He worked on Dean's chest, knowing it was going to be hard on him. As he deeply massaged Dean pectorals, Dean's groaning became almost obscene and Sam shuddered as his own body wanted to respond, wanted Dean to touch him back. He bit his own lip hard to keep his emotions under tight rein. Why the hell had he offered to give Dean a massage?

Because Dean needed it. Because it would help Dean. Hell, maybe it would give him that edge he needed to fight off the virus. If Dean couldn't…he had often wondered if Jacob maybe had antibodies against the demonic virus. If he did, would some of his blood help keep a person from turning? Jacob was the friend he had mentioned to Dean who lived in Oklahoma. If he was still alive. He'd be…ninety seven? Something like that.

He avoided rubbing his hands across Dean's nipples. He knew if he did, that it would be over. He just wouldn't be able to avoid playing with them, sucking on them, having Dean arch against his hot mouth as he worked them. Thankfully the only erection Dean was still sporting was in his cock.

"Let's roll you over Dean," Sam said between gritted teeth. He quickly worked Dean's shoulders and neck, Dean's sides, and then moved to Dean's buttocks and thighs. He forced himself to do it right. To go slowly and take care of the knots. He knew too that his massaging hands were rocking the bed and probably only making Dean harder as his cock rubbed against the mattress. He was sorry for that. Mostly.

He finally finished. He wasn't sure if Dean was awake or asleep, but if he didn't jack himself off, he was going to have the blue balls from hell. He had his shirt off before he ever made it into the shower and stepped in before the water had barely gotten warm. He grabbed the liquid soap and wasted no time, finishing his arousal until it was so hard it might as well have been steel. Fuck. When he got like this it took a lot to get him to come. He worked himself, not caring how loud his groans were, not caring if he woke Dean or the neighbors three rooms away. Jesus the things Dean's body did to him. He took his own fingers and lubed them with the soap and worked them up his own ass, hitting that spot with his long fingers that he hoped would help him come. He'd crossed over into pain at this point because he had waited too long and it was sheer agony as he worked himself harder and harder, begging himself to fucking come already.

His shout of final release was between agony and ecstasy as the thick ropes of spunk poured out of him. He collapsed in the shower, letting the hot water warm his skin as his dick pulsed and he moaned with each tremor.

He finally curled up in the shower, letting the water rinse away his sweat. He missed his lovers. He missed having a lover, a lover than could do the sorts of things to him that merely being near Dean did to him. He was lonely. He was so fucking lonely, and no number of one-night stands eased that pain inside. As sure as shit, he knew he'd fallen for Dean. Whatever Dean asked, whatever Dean wanted, he would do. It was ridiculous. Positively ridiculous. Hell, he didn't even know the man. They probably weren't even compatible. The only thing they definitely had in common was that they were hunters. Jessica had become a hunter after her near death experience and marriage to Sam. Elizabeth had been a hunter that had saved Sam, even knowing full well what he was. Had nursed him back to health even. Kept him in chains initially, until he convinced her he was trustworthy. It took a couple years of them working together as partners—she'd lost her hunter husband and in those days, being a female had its drawbacks. Eventually the relationship has turned into something more than just partners. In fact, she was the one who had proposed to him.

Dean he would have to give up, no matter what the outcome. Best he never knew they weren't compatible. If they were, it would…be that much harder to go on for a long time to come. He wasn't even sure if he would. He's lost all he had ever loved. He wasn’t even going to be given a chance with Dean. What was really left? Stasi had said life became wearying after a couple hundred years. It became a been there done that sort of thing where everything had been done. But to do it with a human, to see their thrill at all the new things, allowed a vampire to live a bit vicariously through them. But humans died all too quickly and then Sam was left alone again.

He felt the tears this time and heard the soft sobs escape him as he let the water try to wash his pain away.

Dean kept his eyes closed. Kept his breathing shallow. Kept his thoughts from focusing too much on Sam’s hands and what they were doing, how they were touching him, how good it felt… at least he tried to. He was failing miserably, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

Fuck, but Sam had good hands. Where the hell had he learned to do this anyway? This was certainly a lesson he had never learned as a hunter. Had Sam trained at some girly salon, giving pedicures, massages, trimming hair before he started cutting off vampires heads for a living? All right, he must really be out of his mind, first for agreeing to the damned… damned good… massage in the first place and then almost losing it thanks to his giddy random thoughts.

He did feel light headed, maybe due to hunger. Maybe that’s why he’d fallen in the first place, beyond the fact that he was exhausted. He was so damned hungry. Thirsty. Sam’s hands were turning out to be a good distraction from it though. Sam could easily put him to sleep like this. But he didn’t want to sleep.

Fuck. The way Sam was working on his shoulders and upper arms was quickly turning him into a puddle of mush. Most parts of him anyway. His dick was certainly anything but relaxed, and it was becoming harder and harder, no pun intended, to ignore it.

His muscles jumped a little, despite the other man’s warning, when Sam’s hands moved to his stomach. Rubbing… oh fuck… but that felt good. He didn’t think anyone had ever touched him like this. Women’s hands just didn’t feel the same as a man’s. They were all soft and gentle, not strong and firm. Not that Sam’s hands weren’t gentle too. God, he wished Sam would just slow down. Just a little. Just when he was beginning to really enjoy… but he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying it.

Damn it.

Dean forced his eyes open when Sam suggested he roll over, and he managed a shaky nod, before the other man helped him onto his front. Having to bite back a groan at the pressure of the mattress against his hard dick and it was all he could do not to rub it against the warm sheets beneath him. Burying his face against the pillow to muffle the sounds of pleasure he couldn’t stop no matter how hard he tried. Fighting not to arch or push back against those hands working over his neck and shoulders, down to his ass, and Dean began to become afraid that Sam was going to bring him off without even trying.

Suddenly it was over, Sam’s hands left him like his skin had burned him and Dean barely registered the almost slamming of the bathroom door over his own heartbeat. Dean let out a shaky breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. Fuck, he was so hard he hurt, and it was all Sam’s fault. Well, at least he was relaxed everywhere else. Damn it. But Dean had asked for it. Maybe Dean was just one of those sick bastards that liked to torture themselves. That was the only explanation he could come up with right now as he rolled onto his back with a low groan, squeezing his eyes shut, the lack of pressure against his cock almost worse, but he was not going to get off by rutting against the mattress like some horny teenager!

The groans Dean could hear coming from the bathroom sounded straight out of the sleaziest porno film and he would have had to have been something more than human not to reach for his own cock then. Slipping his hand underneath the waistband of his shorts and wrapping his fingers around his dick, already slick with precome leaking from his tip, Dean bit his lower lip hard to keep from moaning as he caressed himself. He could have thought of anything, the last waitress he banged, Angelina Jolie, anything, and all he could think about was Sam. In the bathroom shower right now doing exactly what he was doing, those strong hands that had been on him only moments ago now stroking himself. Was Sam thinking about him? Touching him, sucking him, fucking him…?

The other man’s shout of pleasure from behind the door triggering his own release, making Dean come so hard he saw stars. Spilling his seed all over his hand and stomach, and he tasted blood in his mouth and realized he’d bitten his lip to keep from crying out as Sam had.

Shit… fuck… shitfuck… This wasn’t happening…

Sweating and shaking Dean laid there frozen, his come cooling on his skin, his fingers still wrapped around his softening dick, wondering just what the fuck was he doing? How could this get any more fucked up? This was getting out of hand. Way too complicated, and he didn’t fucking do complicated. He avoided complicated like the plague…. and how the hell was he supposed to hide what he had done from the other man, when he didn’t even have a fucking towel to clean up with?

Groaning in frustration as he pushed himself up, only feeling even more frustrated when he realized he was definitely relaxed now, Dean reached over the side of the bed for his t-shirt that had been thrown there earlier. Using it to wipe himself down, but knowing there was no help for his underwear and he honestly wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to make it to his duffle for a fresh pair. With burning cheeks, hoping against hope Sam wouldn’t notice, Dean stripped them off, wrapped them up in his dirty shirt, and threw both towards the direction of his duffel. Sliding back under the sheets, covering himself up, Dean flicked off the bedside lamp. Trying to force himself to sleep. It shouldn’t be difficult, coming as hard as he had hadn’t made him any less tired, but he couldn’t seem to stop his heart or his thoughts from racing.

Aside from the fact that Dean didn’t fuck men anymore, he definitely didn’t fuck other hunters, or anyone for that matter he might ever see again. One night stands. That was his thing. No bullshit. No complication. No hearts broken, or at least, not many hearts broken when it was over. No attachments. No one waiting at home. No one worrying if he was going to die, or they were going to die, on the next job. Or worse, being there and not being able to do a thing to keep them from dying… watching those he loved die for him…

Alone. That was the best for everyone concerned.

Sam wasn't sure how long he laid there in the shower, wallowing in his own self pity. That wasn't his way. He hadn't done this since…since he had lost Jessica. But then he had a mission. To find the bastards who had killed her. This time? This time all he could do was stand by and watch Dean get sicker. He didn't want to do that. He wanted to pick up and leave. Just leave and never think about the beautiful young man he fell in love with overnight ever again. But he promised he would stay by his side. He promised he would be there for him. So he would. No matter how much it killed his own soul…if he even had a soul.

He slowly climbed out of the shower and toweled himself off. He could see Dean had turned off the light. That was a good thing he supposed since he hadn't even thought to bring in extra clothes. He hung up the towel to dry and walked out into the room naked, planning on heading over to his duffel.

The smell of Dean's come smacked him square in the face and he froze. He easily spotted Dean's wadded up t-shirt and … shorts. Dean must have…while Sam was…Fuck, it made him start to get hard all over again, between his own thoughts and the smell of Dean's spilled seed. Sure bet Dean wasn't thinking about him.

Screw it. He was tired. He was physically and mentally tired. He wasn't about to get dressed and head to the room next door and he wasn't going to sleep on the fucking floor. He'd considered it briefly while he was giving Dean his massage, but no. Dean could just suck it up.

He pulled back the covers on the side Dean wasn't sleeping on, tossed a couple pillows down the middle of the bed—he knew that should keep him on his side of the bed, and crawled under the covers buck naked. There was no sense sleeping light tonight. He honestly didn't care if the hunter decided to hurt him for whatever fucked up reason. If Dean blew another gasket when he got up in the morning, furious with him, so be it. He'd smack Dean in the face with the hard cold truth that Dean was turning and that Dean was stuck with him for a few more days. Then it would be over. Or Dean could kill him. At this point...he would welcome it. He was tired of the hunt and tired of the hurt. It would be a wonderful belated birthday present.

Sam slid under the covers, cursing as he felt another tear slip out of his eye. Tears were as easy to smell as sex and he really hoped Dean's sense of smell hadn't gotten that good yet. He didn't need the hunter's fucking sympathy. Once Dean was handled, whatever way it ended, Sam would leave. Then he would leave an obvious vampiric trail. He'd let the hunters take him. He was done. No more worries except the torments of Hell. He almost figured they would be a blessing in comparison to the pain he felt deep in his chest and to the aloneness that consumed him.

Dean did his best to pretend he was asleep when Sam emerged from the bathroom, he kept his breathing even, his body relaxed, though it wasn’t easy. Considering he couldn’t help but watch the other man through hooded eyelashes when he came out of the bathroom, without a towel wrapped around himself, without anything… holy…

He seemed to have no trouble seeing… everything… even in the dark. Dean didn’t think he’d had fantasy’s with people with bodies as perfect as Sam’s was. He didn’t seem to have an inch of fat anywhere on him, and his cock, even flaccid…

Shit, he hoped Sam didn’t catch the hitch in his breathing that might give him away he was faking, but Sam didn’t appear to be paying any attention to him at all… and no, that didn’t bother him at all. Sam was just standing there, like he was frozen in indecision, and finally the other man came over to the bed.

If Dean tensed a little when Sam pulled back the covers and got inside behind him he couldn’t really be blamed for that. Not knowing that Sam was climbing into bed with him again and they were both fucking naked. Though the pillow that hit his back came as something of a shock and it was all he could do not to jump.

He could only guess it was for “protection” (He had to fight down an insane snort of laughter at that thought.) So they wouldn’t wake up again like they had before. With Sam pressed up against his back, his arms around him, and his dick resting comfortably against the curve of his ass… and no he wasn’t upset about that either.

Fuck…

He wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight, he could tell, even as exhausted as he was he was going to lie here awake all night thinking about everything he didn’t want to think about, probably get up in the morning stiff, sore, and even more pissed off, though he honestly didn’t know if it would be at Sam or himself.

Dean rolled over onto his back with a sigh, turning his head just enough to catch Sam’s profile from the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t tell if the other hunter was sleeping or not. He seemed dead to the world, but if there was one thing Dean had been taught his whole life was that almost nothing was as it seemed. One of the many things he fucking hated about life.

His fingers plucked at a loose thread on the pillow separating them. He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, an hour or more, before he finally picked it up and shoved it underneath his head along with his two other pillows, closing his eyes. Maybe that was all he needed.

He hadn't much more than laid back into bed and sleep overtook him. He hadn't permitted himself a truly deep sleep in over a week. It would be like a human getting about two or three hours a sleep for a week running. Yes, they could function but sooner or later, it would catch up with them. Sam let it catch up with him tonight. Honestly he had probably let himself get all worked up over Dean simply because he was tired. There was no denying he wanted Dean's body, that he wanted to do things to it that would have Dean screaming for mercy, screaming Sam's name and crying out with more pleasure than anyone had ever given Dean before. Dean, the man? Sam didn't know anything about him. Other than he had a friend named Bobby. Other than that he liked to play his music annoyingly loud. That he liked to drive a little too fast and that he loved his car. And he was a hunter about to turn and therefore, die.

…he was alone in the dark pit, his arms spread, chained to the wall, his legs spread and likewise chained. Anastasia was there, drinking deeply from his neck. Michael was there, working his cock hard with his mouth. Elizabeth was there, working and sucking at his nipples, and Jessica, sweet Jessica had her mouth over his, her tongue deep in his own.

Blood suddenly spilled into his mouth from Jessica's and he felt the point of the stake that shattered her breastbone dig partway into his own. He would have screamed her name but his mouth was too full of her blood. So very much blood he couldn't swallow it all and the crimson liquid spilled from his mouth and down his chin in a rushing waterfall. Jessica fell away from him, her hand outstretched toward him, begging him to help her, begging him to save her, and then the machete cut across her neck, so that even had he been able to reach her in time, had he been able to break the too strong chains, he couldn't even turn her. Her blue eyes stared cold accusations at him while he groaned under the ministrations of his other lovers.

Elizabeth tilted her head back and hungrily drank the blood that still cascaded from Sam's mouth. Jessica's blood. Her eyes turned black, demonic black, and her fingernails dug into Sam's chest, shredding it. The exorcism came to his lips before the last of Jessica's blood was even gone. The black smoke poured from the dark haired woman and she collapsed, dead on the stone floor. Michael's hard work on his cock had him in pain, Michael kept drawing him to the edge then stopping, drawing him back to the edge, then stopping. Sam groaned in agony.

"Please, oh, god, please," Sam begged him.

When Michael looked up to meet his eyes, the coldness he saw there wasn't the eyes of his lover but of the man who had killed his wife and children when Sam was still human.

The lightheadness of loss of blood from Stasi's feeding began to overtake him. "Stasi, please stop, you're taking too much. Too much."

When Stasi pulled away, it wasn't his sire Anastasia, but the matriarch bitch from the nest. She twirled the sword Sam had faced once already.

"Fucking vegetarians don’t deserve to live," she snarled and swung the blade in a broad arc, first decapitating Michael then smiled grimly at Sam. "Doesn't deserve to live."

The sword sliced through his own neck and he felt himself fall into blackness as his head tumbled from his body.

Sam awoke with a start, a gasp escaping from him but nothing more. He looked over at Dean who was on his back, one of the pillows between them now under Dean's head. Sam could heard the staccato beat of Dean's heart coming more often now among the regular beats. He tried to listen o see if he had woken Dean, but Dean's breathing seemed slow and steady.

Sam was covered with sweat from his nightmare and it had shaken him badly. He rarely had nightmares and certainly not when he was in his deep sleep. He stared at Dean's relaxed face. He hesitated, but fuck it. He wanted a warm body to curl up against. He didn't care if he got anything else. He just wanted someone next to him. Reaching between them he extracted the other pillow from beneath the sheets and returned it to the head of the bed an then moved closer to Dean. If Dean woke up, Dean would probably flip out and kick him out of the room altogether. He could just pretend he was asleep and apologize when Dean "woke" him up. It was Dean's own fault for pulling out the barricade Sam had put down. Sam was painfully hard from his dream, but it would take more than just a little jacking off to ease it. Only time would let him soften. Deciding, he moved next to Dean, his head resting against Dean's warm shoulder, his hand sliding across Dean's waist and he pressed his body up against Dean's. That was enough. He just needed someone beside him. Some one he could hold, just for the night. He nestled in a little closer with a soft sigh and prayed with Dean beside him no dreams would returned to haunt him. Prayed Dean wouldn't wake until morning when he could face the world again.

Despite how tired he was, Dean was barely dozing when he felt the other man in the bed beside him suddenly jerk awake gasping and shaking. It shocked him, made him open his eyes and look at the other man briefly before he caught himself and closed them again, thankfully Sam was too distracted initially to realize that Dean was awake as well.

Though just that brief glimpse at Sam had caused the barest frown of worry to cross his face for a split second before he relaxed again, pretending to sleep. Sam looked… the only word he could use to describe it was shaken. While a part of him wanted to ask the other man what was wrong, a bigger part of him told him to leave it be. Besides it was pretty obvious, and none of his business to boot. Nightmares were the way of life for hunters, and he certainly wasn’t the type to share any of them with virtual strangers. He didn’t expect Sam was either.

He could feel Sam’s eyes on him, but he didn’t move or alter his slow breathing, giving nothing away. Letting the other man keep his “dignity”, or so Dean told himself that was the reason. Soon he would go back to sleep, and Dean could try once again to get there himself.

When he felt the remaining pillow between them shift away, Dean couldn’t say he was all that surprised. Maybe a part of him was, but not for the reason he thought. Because even when he felt Sam’s weight shift closer to him, pressing against his side, the other man’s head coming to rest on his shoulder, he didn’t move. He could have shifted in his “sleep”, pretended to be waking up, anything to discourage the other man but instead he remained still as Sam made himself “comfortable”.

Maybe he didn’t owe Sam this, but he did owe the other man something for saving his life. If this was all he asked for… well, not even asked… but what he needed, it was the least Dean could give. Yeah, it was all kinds of complicated, but he could think about it later, in the morning, when he wasn’t so damn tired. Besides, it felt good. Sam’s warmth and his weight partly draped over him was almost… comforting, and the sleep that had been so hard to find before was now rushing up upon him fast.

Dean let out a small sigh and let it sweep him away. Shifting his arm just enough so that it wouldn’t fall asleep during the night from Sam’s weight laying on it, his palm coming to rest at the small of the other man’s back. Turning his head just a bit, Sam’s scent washing over him, his soft hair tickling his nose, Dean finally drifted off.

Sam suspected Dean was awake, at least a part of him did. Or that Dean had at least awoken when Sam curled up against the man. Hunters were not known for being heavy sleepers.

Sam was almost embarrassed by his need. Just like in the shower, this wasn't him. He was being a fucking girl. Whimpering and lamenting over a too hot guy that wouldn't give her a second look let alone the time of day.

That wasn't all of it, though. This was one of the reasons he killed potentially turned vampires. Witnesses. Civilians. Whatever the most politically correct term was. Maybe "blood challenged".

Because it hurt too damned much. It was usually pretty easy to tell if a person was fed blood or not. Most often a human turned within the hour of the infection. Simply put, it was rare to find anyone in a vampire nest that had been there more than a day or two, that hadn't been turned. Sure, you had your odd ball nests. One he had come across had kept fifteen human slaves. If a slave got out of line, they were torn apart and another replacement found. Those slaves were never at risk of being turned because that wasn't what the nest wanted them for. Typically, humans were taken to either become part of the nest, or for food. There usually wasn't anything in between.

If Sam rescued someone and they were healthy, it was pretty obvious, pretty fast, if they were vampire or not. Newly turned were hungry. Always hungry. If they were beat to hell and Sam had to nurse them back to health, and then had to kill them…it was just hard. He had done that so often that maybe he had gotten a little cold hearted about it. But it was purely self-preservation. His own mental self-preservation. He tended to quickly begin to care about people and then to have to kill them…it killed a little of himself in the process. As if he weren't already dead enough.

If Dean hadn't been a hunter he would be dead by now, his bones burned in the fire with the others. Instead Sam was laying against him, Sam's nightmares gnawing at him. As he practically held his breath, waiting to see when the hunter was going to say enough was enough, the hunter sighed and Sam felt the palm of the man's hand come to rest on his back. Dean was going to let him have this small comfort. This rarely needed, but at the moment desperately needed, comfort. He pulled Dean a little tighter into his arms. Dean had turned his head toward him and Sam lightly brushed his lips across Dean's in a silent thank you. Then he let Dean's presence warm him and comfort him, and let Dean be a barrier against the ocean of bad memories that were as much a part of his life as the far too fewer good ones. Putting his head back on Dean's shoulder he let himself fall asleep, grateful that even if they never had anything else, Dean let him have this.