It was his birthday today. Or at least, that was what his father had said when he'd come to get him from his room where Dean had been locked since his last punishment.

Three days he'd spent locked in his room with no food or water after being whipped until he lost consciousness, only to be woken and beaten again, all because he'd failed to perform his lesson to his father's satisfaction. He hadn't been beaten so badly for a while, and hadn't even wanted to eat he'd felt so sick and hurt so much those first couple of days. But now his stomach felt like it was eating itself and he could barely stand on his shaking legs they felt so weak. Every time he swallowed it hurt because his throat was so dry.

When he'd been nudged awake by his father's boot he'd been afraid at first his father was going to beat him again. It wouldn't have been the first time. If his father was still displeased with him… instead his father had told him to get up and come along. It was his birthday and his father had a present for him.

Dean hadn't understood what it meant. He'd never had a birthday, or a present, before. Not in the last seven years or so, and he couldn't remember before that. But the last thing he was going to do was argue with or question his father and Dean had scrambled up as quickly as his bruised body would allow and followed after Azazel.

His father had led him to a room which Dean knew well and it became even harder to stand as his legs began to shake with fear instead of weakness. It was the torture room. It was where he was sent when he had displeased his father in some way. He wanted to fall to his knees in tears and beg his father not to beat him again, promise him he would not fail his father again, but he knew if he did that it would only anger his father more. Azazel hated weakness as much as he hated failure.

But to Dean's surprise, the torture room was not empty when they entered. There was a man there, on his knees, a chain running from his neck to the floor. His arms and legs bound, and he looked as though he'd already went a few rounds with the torturers already. The man looked at his father with pure hatred, though Dean could see confusion in the man's eyes when they turned to Dean. Dean didn't know what to do, so he simply stood there waiting.

"Are you going to tell me what I want to know hunter?" Azazel asked, and Dean could see a knife in his father's hand, already stained with blood. A hunter… Dean had never actually seen a hunter before. He looked like an ordinary man, especially bloodied and beaten as he was, not nearly as dangerous as his father had said they could be. The man stubbornly remained silent, continued glaring at Azazel with that defiant look, though his eyes flickered to him every once and a while and Dean winced, not really wanting to see what his father had planned for the man.

Dean was surprised when Azazel suddenly reached out and grabbed him by the hair, the sudden unexpected pain as he was yanked forward making him stumble and cry out before he could stop himself. His father shoved him in front of the man so he could see him fully, forced him to his knees in front of the hunter, and yanked his head back. Dean felt the cold edge of the blade against his throat and he froze, his eyes growing wide with fear.

"Tell me what I want to know." His father said digging the blade just a little into the soft flesh of his neck and Dean hissed at the sting of the cut, the feeling of his blood trailing down his neck and chest. He felt the tears of pain and confusion he'd been holding back spill free, to his shame, and his shaking increased. His father wasn't really going to kill him was he? Had he really displeased his father so badly?

"Please…" Dean whimpered, but the sharp yank on his hair silenced him abruptly.

"Stop! I only know the last place he was seen was Montana. I swear! Don't!" The hunter blurted out abruptly much to Dean's surprise and his father let go of him, and took the blade away from his throat. Dean wasn't sure which of them looked more relieved right then, him or the hunter.

"Thank you." Azazel said, amusement clear in his voice, then he held out the knife to Dean. "Dean, kill him."

Dean looked up at his father in surprise. His father had never told him to kill anyone before. But there was a cold steel behind his father's eyes and Dean knew better than to disobey. He reached out to take the knife, looking back at the hunter who looked shocked at first and then angry. Glaring at him in pure hate.

Dean closed his eyes as he plunged the knife into the man's chest, his father laughing behind him.

***

Dean jerked awake from the dream, the memory, of his first kill. A small shiver running down his spine as he remembered how Azazel had used him then, and many times after as well, in such a manner when he was a boy. As an object of pity. Sometimes the demon would actually torture him in front of the prisoners if they refused to talk. Dean always playing the part to the fullest. Crying, screaming, begging… eventually they would break. They all broke. It was just another game his father enjoyed playing.

He didn't know why he was remembering it now. Dean shook his head a little to clear it and pushed himself up on his arm. He couldn't even remember falling asleep and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Dean glanced over his shoulder at the young man spooned up behind him, Sam's arm wrapped around his middle a comforting weight. A small smile curved his lips even though it was still a little odd waking like this.

Dean knew he should probably get up, check the defenses of the church one last time. He could feel the darkness, closer than ever now. It wouldn't be long now, in fact, that was probably what had awoken him in the first place.

Dean sighed regrettably as he turned in the younger man's embrace, reaching out to caress Sam's face. He didn't like how exhausted he still felt from casting all of those spells, but he couldn't really do much about that right now. The demon wasn't going to wait for him to recover fully.

"Sam. Wake up. It's almost here, we need to get ready."

It was a solid, deep dreamless sleep that embraced Sam. At the fringes were screams and smells of sulfur and glimpses of dead loved ones, but a warm darkness held him, cradled him, protected him and kept the horrors from slithering their way in. He honestly hadn't slept so very well in so very long that the touch to his face was like that of a butterfly that he wanted to brush away, the words a soft lullaby, the voice that of his lover. He wanted to beg a few more minutes. He wanted to stay hidden in the safety of the cocoon, but somewhere inside him the meaning of the words was recognized and nudged him closer to consciousness. Blindly he reached out, his fingers finding his lover's face, drifting over them lightly, running across those tender lips. He cracked his eyes open and saw Dean facing him, embraced against him, and he slid his hand behind Dean's head, twining his fingers in that short hair, and drew Dean to him, parting his lips, teasing Dean's tongue into his mouth.

Yes the meaning of the words finally soaked through to his consciousness. And they would get ready, just as soon as he was done kissing Dean so thoroughly his taste would stay with Dean until whatever was to come was over. He forced himself not to get aroused and focused purely on Dean's mouth. They didn't have time for a morning or evening or whatever the hell time it was quickie. Well, maybe they did, but until Dean said they did, he would assume they didn't. He moaned into his brother's mouth and pulled him so close nothing was between them but the cloth of their clothes. He finally rolled Dean over so he was on top.

When he broke the kiss and pushed himself partway up, he grinned at his brother. "Who says I'm not ready?"

He reached between them and groped his brother before pushing himself all the way off of him, sitting and running his hand through his hair and brushing the locks out of his face. He blinked as his gaze swept the room sleepily. His breath caught when he realized they were in Bobby's workroom on the mattress.

They were alone. Thank God, they were alone. He didn't care if Bobby suspected, he just really didn't want to actually confirm it for the hunter. Bobby might be accepting of it if he only suspected it, but in full Technicolor? That would be like Sam walking in on his father and Bobby or Pastor Jim getting it on. That would just be deeply… bothersome.

He breathed a sigh of relief, the momentary panic releasing him. He returned his gaze to his brother and saw the weariness in Dean's eyes. "Let me get you some breakfast and then I'll let Bobby and Jim know we've got company coming."

Sam pushed himself to his feet and headed over to the coffee pot. It was half full and didn't smell like it had been cooking for hours. He poured each of them a cup of coffee and he handed Dean a Styrofoam cup filled with the steaming liquid. He put some more donuts out on a plate, grabbed a clean knife from the table and quickly quartered one of the apples, and put together a fresh ham sandwich with cheese. Almost as an afterthought he grabbed another juicebox out and he handed everything to Dean. Moving to a different table he gathered Dean's things that they had taken from him and he took them over to Dean, setting them on the mattress beside his brother. He smiled fondly at Dean, grabbed his coffee, and headed out of the room in search of Bobby and Jim.

"Bobby? Jim?" Sam called out. "Dean says we've got company coming and need to get ready."

Bobby stepped out of a room beside the door. Sam realized it was going on evening, but the sun had maybe another hour before it would set.

"Nothing out there yet," Bobby said, holding his shotgun loosely in one hand. A half full cup of coffee sat on the windowsill, an occasional twirl of steam curling lazily from it. "If he's got a plan, we need to have a pow-wow. I'll get Jim up."

"How long did we sleep?"

"Been about four and a half hours or so."

Sam knew now wasn't the time to ask, but he needed to know. "Was Jim, uhm, bothered by the sleeping arrangements?" he asked a slight flush coming to his face.

Bobby shrugged and looked out the window. "Let's concentrate on what's happening out there, not in here, Sammy."

"I thought…"Sam began hesitantly.

"Right now, we need to stand together. Let's worry about anything else later. Let it drop and don't be bringing it up to Jim neither. We got bigger things to worry about."

Sam gave a nod and returned to the workroom. Bobby wasn't as good with it as he thought maybe. Or Jim wasn't pleased and Bobby had to listen to Jim rant on about it. Incest was a sin, could damn him to Hell. But sometimes, sometimes God had sanctioned it in time of dire need. He wondered if this fell into that category and figured probably not. Setting his jaw, he realized it didn't matter. Not right now. Dean and he needed each other and he wasn't giving that up. He would live in the moment. That's all hunters ever seemed to have anyhow. It would end bloody, anyhow. It always ended bloody.

Sam began putting together his own breakfast, or rather, he supposed, dinner. "Jim and Bobby want to know if you have a plan. They'll be in in a minute," he told Dean.

Dean’s smile widened when the first thing Sam did upon waking, maybe even before he was fully awake, was to reach out for him. Touching his face, his lips, so tenderly before drawing him down and the elder man couldn’t help but go willingly. Those sleepy, lust filled eyes pulling him in, chaining him more securely than any physical bonds ever could. His lips meeting Sam’s with a soft moan as his tongue eagerly slipped into the younger man’s mouth. Trading deep thorough kisses that made fire scorch through his veins and heat pool in his stomach. His cock swelling with interest despite knowing they didn’t really have time for this, as enjoyable as it was. But pushing Sam away, or pulling away himself to end their kiss was the last thing on Dean’s mind at the moment.

When Sam finally pushed him over, his weight settling comfortably on top of him for a moment, Dean groaned in approval. His hands slipping through Sam’s warm sleep tousled hair and down over the younger man’s shoulders. His groan taking on an edge of complaint when his brother finally broke their kiss and pushed himself away.

Fucking tease. Was the first thing that came to Dean’s mind but he couldn’t help but laugh softly anyway. Laying quite comfortably where he was watching every one of the younger man’s movements intently. Simply mesmerized by the simplest thing, the way Sam’s hair slipped through his fingers, the way the light caught his eyelashes when he blinked, so damned beautiful… and all his.

Dean nodded when Sam offered to get him some “breakfast”, pushing himself up into a more sitting position. Gratefully taking the cup of coffee Sam offered him, though he raised an eyebrow at all the food that his brother returned with. Surely he didn’t expect him to eat ALL of this. He wasn’t starving after all…

When Sam returned again with his knives and other belongings, Dean gave the younger man a grateful smile before his brother left the room. Grateful for Sam’s trust in him, even though he wasn’t the least bit sure he deserved it. He’d told Sam before that the younger man couldn’t trust him. Dean was afraid that was still true. He didn’t trust himself, how could Sam trust him? But the younger man did, much to his amazement, and if there was one thing Dean did know it was he needed Sam, more than he needed anything else in his life, and he had been telling the truth when he promised he wouldn’t let anything happen to Sam.

His knives would help him keep that promise. He was glad the hunters hadn’t simply thrown them away, they were worth more to him than mere “sentimental” value. He had killed many demons with these knives. Some simply jealous of the position he held at his father’s side, some weaklings or traitors his father wanted dead, others Azazel’s enemies. He had nearly as much experience killing demons as he had killing humans. He would have rather not let the hunters know everything these weapons were capable of but he probably wouldn’t have a choice in that.

Dean ate his meal while he waited for Sam to return, a little surprised just how hungry he found he actually was and feeling a good deal better after having eaten something. He watched the younger man preparing his own meal when Sam returned, nodding in answer to his brother’s question. Yes, he did have something of a plan. He waited until the two hunters arrived so he wouldn’t have to repeat himself.

“First of all, we need to get it inside the church. It will be too easy for it to escape outdoors, but once its inside it will be trapped. The devil’s trap at the door will need to be broken, and someone will have to bait it.”

Bobby and Jim walked into the workroom together. Jim's eyes drifted to the mattress where he had seen the boys lying together in sleep. He had placed a silly bet with Bobby earlier, pulling his chain as it were. Dean had been trying to get a rise out of him as Sam had been wiping Dean down when Dean had the fever. Admittedly, Sam had been doing it a little more slowly than necessary, but there was no doubt the man was getting off on it.

Jim jokingly made a bet with Bobby that Dean was going to try to seduce Sam and before anyone realized, Sam and Dean would be humping like bunnies. It was a tasteless joke and equally tasteless bet, but Jim had been tired and frustrated by the cocky little bastard at the time. Besides, the look on Bobby's face had been worth every last word of it. Jim didn't find it at all funny when he saw Sam pressed up close to Dean on the mattress, his arm wrapped around Dean like they were lovers. Why was it one minute he wanted to give the Dean a chance at proving himself, then the next, he wanted to kill the little bastard?

Jim had raged to Bobby about it, that they should put a stop to such nonsense, but Bobby told Jim firmly to let it be. No matter what was happening, if it was innocent friendship or incestuous lust, they needed Dean working on their side. Working to protect Sam. If Dean didn't help, Sam was dead or worse. After Sam was safe, then whatever the relationship, innocent or not, they could confront Sam and make sure it was just innocent. The boys were definitely stronger together and that's all there was to it. Bobby didn't want to know and told Jim it was best if neither of them did. For that matter, they still couldn't be certain, truly certain, that Dean was indeed Sam's brother.


When Bobby saw Dean had reacquired his belongings, his face swept into a scowl. Those knives Dean carried were magical. He didn't know what they did, but there was some very powerful magic wrapped around them. Sam surely returned them to Dean and Bobby had to wonder if indeed Dean had put Sam under some sort of spell. Sam trusted Dean at a scary level. Though Bobby himself said he trusted Dean at Sam's back, a small nigglingpart of him still worried for the young Winchester.

As nothing could be done for the moment, he settled across the table from Dean and Sam, Jim sitting down beside him.

At Dean's words soft laughter broke from Jim.

"I'm the perfect bait," Jim said. "What demon will turn down the chance to nail a priest, one that is apparently nothing more than a foolish man spouting off scripture and the wrath of God sort of business. Especially one already injured. We can cover the trap with a rug, sweep aside the salt and break the trap until it is inside. After we get inside, then what? Keep it locked up here?"

Dean’s sharp eyes hadn’t missed Jim’s glance towards the mattress or Bobby’s glance towards his knives and the equally displeased frowns on both the hunters faces. Well tough on both accounts. He didn’t give a damn what the two men thought about him and Sam and he cared even less what they thought of him being armed. He wasn’t going to be giving up his knives again anytime soon, and he certainly wasn’t giving up his brother. Just let the hunters try and take them, or Sam away from him.

Remembering Sam’s “lecture” earlier however, more to avoid hearing it again than anything else, Dean kept his expression and his tone equally neutral. He also made sure to keep his hand away from his weapon, just in case the two men thought he might use them. Which he certainly would, if he needed to, but best not to push the “truce” between them in any case.

Dean nodded in agreement when the priest suggested he be used as bait. He was the most logical choice for it, certainly neither he or Sam could be because once the demon saw either of them it would probably take off for reinforcements and that was precisely what Dean wanted to avoid. Plus the man was already injured, like he said, he’d be pretty useless for anything else. Even Bobby would be more useful with two good hands rather than one.

Dean had to resist rolling his eyes when Jim asked what they were going to do with the demon once they had it trapped inside the church.

“Hardly. Once you get it inside the church, we’re going to pin it down and kill it. But I want to know what it knows first, if anything. If nothing else, your little magic juice should convince it to talk.” Dean replied, glancing at Bobby.

Jim gave Dean something of a dirty look. "I assumed we weren't planning on having a tea party."

Sam had to stifle his snort of laughter at Jim's retort.

Jim continued. "Once it's inside, are we going to have a second devil's trap that I need to try to get it into? You may have abilities to hold it, but the rest of us are useless in that regard. Demons are strong, even if we tackle it, we likely won't be able to hold it down long."

"I can have a needle ready," Bobby said, "or better maybe, set up a couple tranqs filled with the liquid for Jim to use on it, but I don't know how much to use. Would what I used on you be enough to get it to talk? Will too much of it kill it? Since you said we are killing it, I'm guessing that's what those special knives of yours do." Bobby glanced at Sam. "Unless you need them both, I think you ought to give one to Sam, just in case."

"You're the better knife fighter," Sam protested.

"Idgit, it's your life we're trying to protect. A knife in my hand won't do a helluva lot good with me pinned to the wall."

Reluctantly, Sam nodded in agreement. Bobby's words were sensible.

"I assume there is no way to save the body the demon has possession of," Jim said with a sigh. He saw the look on Dean's face and something twisted inside of him. He turned his full glare on Dean. "Life is sacred. If an innocent can be saved, we should try. But I am no fool, young man. I, too, am capable of doing what it takes to get the job done. Don't think I'm not.

"I can practically taste your disdain for Bobby and I." Jim stalked closer. "I know you are dangerous, I know full well what you are capable of, and I know full well you have not attempted to kill Bobby or me because of Sam. We have placed our trust in you to protect Sam. If we didn't have that faith in you, don't think we couldn't take you down a second time. I imagine you have killed numerous hunters, but we know what you are—"

Sam started to step forward to intervene, but Jim held up a hand to Sam without looking away from Dean.

Jim continued. "The only use you have for us is bait, manpower, and Bobby's skills in magic. We realize that. But this is not the world you come from. We do not operate the same here. I do not wonder if Bobby will knife me in the back to gain power or leverage. I know he will stand by me to the bitter end. I know that if I am beyond saving, he will end my life rather than see me suffer. Our world is one of trust, one where that trust and dedication can indeed be a detriment, as it was when Sam walked into your trap in order to save his father. I have little delusion that you would give your life for any one of us except perhaps Sam. I would ask you to consider rejoining the human race, for as weak as we are, for the cattle the demons judge us to be, those of us who are aware of the true evils of the world, we will stand strong against them, even if it means our deaths. It is the human in you that loves your brother. I hope the human in you can claw its way past the brainwashing of your "father" and recognize the worth of the part of you yet human. For Sam's sake, I hope you find your humanity. Regardless, in the meantime do not treat us as incompetent fools or lesser than you because demon blood does not run in our veins."

Dean’s eyes narrowed slightly at Jim’s “tea party” remark, he didn’t like being mocked, and Sam’s laughter didn’t exactly help matters any either. He liked it even less when the priest ranted on as though Dean hadn’t already thought of how he might try to contain the demon. If he’d had any doubts his abilities alone wouldn’t be able to contain it, even if he was still weakened a bit, he would have said so. He wouldn’t risk Sam’s life like that.

Before he could say anything in reply however, Bobby spoke up suggesting a means of delivery for his magic serum. A few tranquilizer darts filled with it should probably work quite well, actually. As to the amount to be used, there was no way for Dean to know that. He knew of only a few ways to kill, really kill, a demon. But he had demon blood in his veins and the way that it had reacted to him… it was quite possible that enough of it would not only cause a demon excruciating pain but would also kill it.

Actually, Dean had already considered giving one of his knives to Sam, but to be honest he would have rather Sam remain in the basement or somewhere and not even be involved in the fight. So that even if the unthinkable happened, and the demon did get away from them somehow it would have at least only seen Dean and not Sam. Keeping Sam hidden was just as important to keeping Sam safe.

Again before he could answer, Jim interrupted him, asking about saving the life of the possessed “innocent” and then went on to actually berate him about the “sanctity” of life Dean had just about had enough. Dean’s eyes darkened. It was the only warning he gave the priest and when it was not heeded the young man snapped. The temperature of the room grew noticeably cooler as Dean stood up in a rush and lashed out, not with his hands, but with enough power to send the man slamming back into the wall. Dean was on him in a second, faster than anyone could blink, a hand around his throat choking and one of his knives were pressed to the soft skin just underneath the man’s chin.

“You know I am dangerous? You think you know what I am capable of? No. I don’t think you do. Maybe you need a reminder.” Dean hissed, pressing the knife forward just enough to nick the priest’s skin. Feeling Sam and Bobby move to help the other man, Dean threw up a barrier between them, keeping both men back.

“Don’t you dare think you can preach to me, old man. I am not a missing member of the flock. Don’t talk to me about trust, dedication, and humanity. You humans know more about betrayal than any demon. Where do you think Demons learned it from? Murder. Rape. Genocide. War. Your race treats each other no better than we treat you, we just have bigger plans than your pathetic squabbles. You are not cattle. You are insects. You are nothing to me. Don’t forget that or next time I’ll squash you.” He growled, before finally releasing the other man and tossing him to the ground.

Jim was startled as the power lifted him and threw him hard into the wall. The blow reverberated through his wounded shoulder and he cried out in pain, suspecting the wound had been broken open by the brutal treatment. Before Jim could do anything more, Dean had him by the throat and held a knife against it threateningly. He felt the blade pressed hard enough to draw blood as Dean ranted. Peripherally he saw Bobby and Sam try to get to them but they were held back.

You humans. We demons. Dean considered himself still in the demon army, still part of the demon master's plans. Humans were insects. Nothing more.

Jim collapsed to the ground when Dean released him. God he hurt, but he had to finish what he started. He needed the truth. He reached up to his shoulder and slid his fingers under the bandage. He cringed but coated his fingers with the blood, then flicked some of that blood to the ground and pushed himself to his feet. If he kept this up, God really was going to turn His back on Jim, but Jim had to know, had to be certain. He shrugged off the concerned hands of his friends and whispered barely audible words. The blood on the ground hissed and burbled, and he targeted the demonic spell into Dean's backside, returning Dean the favor of being slammed into a wall, only Dean was slammed face first into it. The spell wouldn't hold long, but Jim suspected they didn't have long anyhow. Besides, this might very well cost him his life. But to save Sam, he would forfeit his life.

He swept up a knife from the table and was at Dean's back, the tip pressed hard into the skin. Enough pressure and it would be a deadly wound.

"Yes, 'us humans' are very good at deception and betrayal. And 'you demons' learned it very well from us. Since 'you demons' have bigger plans for us, where does that put Sam since you obviously still classify yourself demon." Jim leaned in and whispered his next words. "Are you fucking Sam? Sleeping with a demon will condemn Sam to Hell. So when Sam dies, his soul will be down there right beside your own. If you are a demon and not human. Is that your plan for Sam? Or do you intend to wait until you 'father' shows up and hand Sam over then? Choose your god-damned side, Winchester. Us. The insect humans, the side Sam is on. Or them. The mighty superior demons and the demonic bastard who took you from Sam, who took you from your family, who sent you after Sam, who probably wanted you dead so Sam could be his and his alone. So he could treat your Sam the same way he has treated you. I imagine he'll enjoy fucking Sam as much as you have or as much as you dream of doing. I'm sure his training will be as kind and gentle as yours was. And yes, I know this is probably going to cost me my life. I know the spell is almost over and then you will be able to strike me down, but it will be worth it if it proves which side you stand on, if it protects Sam if the side you stand on isn't his."

Jim turned and walked away from Dean, ignoring the wide-eyed stares of Sam and Bobby. Bobby had heard tales of Jim before he took up the good book, but he never had put much faith in them. Until now.

Jim shut his eyes and tossed the knife onto the table, keeping his back to Dean. Silently he begged God's forgiveness for using demonic magic and for all his sins. He did this for Sam, to show Sam and Bobby what he hoped would be the truth. Dean could still betray Sam, no matter what the outcome of this was, but he hoped he had pushed Dean far enough that Dean would slip if indeed he was a traitor to his brother. Demons weren't known for keeping their temper, and even if Dean wasn't actually a demon, that was still the world he grew up in and obviously what he considered himself.

The last thing Dean had expected was to be slammed so hard into the wall that he saw stars and his skin split, blood beginning to trickle down his face from his forehead. At first he thought that Sam had somehow done it, in retaliation for having attacked one of his “friends” but Dean quickly realized it was the priest who had somehow used demonic magic against him. He didn’t know how it was possible, but how seemed a moot point at the moment when he was pinned pretty much helpless as the human had been moments ago, with a knife digging into his back.

Jim’s words hissed into his ear making his blood boil with rage, and at the same time made his stomach twist so violently with fear he thought he might be sick. Not fear for himself, but fear for Sam. As the priest whispered to him all the very same fears that had been torturing him since he realized who Sam was, what Sam meant to him, and what Sam meant to his father. Realizing his father’s plans for the younger man, the boy who had been the only one to ever show him the slightest bit of kindness and love. What Sam might suffer if Azazel ever got his hands on the younger man the reason he’d even considered defying the demon even knowing the fate that would await him once he was found, once Azazel discovered what he’d done... How he tried to keep Sam away from him...

For a heartbeat, when the priest was finally finished, when the knife in his back was removed and he felt the power holding him prisoner faded, Dean remained frozen where he was... but when he finally turned around slowly there was black murder in his eyes. All directed to the hunter that dared to humiliate him, dared to threaten him, dared to treat him like some insufferable pup that needed to be whipped into submission.

The only reason he wasn’t already ripping the other man apart, quite literally, piece by piece right now was standing in front of him. Sam. The knowledge tickling at the back of his brain that the younger man would never forgive him if he killed the hunter. At the same time he knew with all his heart if he ever looked at the other man’s face again he would rip it off. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself, even if he wanted to, not even for Sam.

Dean did the only thing he possibly could, he turned and ran.

Sam watched and listened as he saw the building argument between Pastor Jim and his brother. He listened as Jim briefly lamented that they would likely not be able to save the possessed innocent, then saw the flash of anger in Jim's face at Dean's silent but obvious disdain. Jim stood his ground and spouted biting words about loyalty, about Dean needing to find his humanity. When his brother retaliated by tossing Jim across the room, by holding a knife to Jim's throat, Sam and Bobby both scrambled to their feet and tried to reach them to intervene and get tempers to calm down. Sam tried to push through the wall Dean erected against him and Bobby, but before he had much of a chance, it was over.

He didn't like what he heard coming from Dean. He understood Dean couldn't consider himself human, he understood Dean felt he could trust no one. He had seen, had experienced, what his brother had endured. That his brother had even come as far as he had, willing to help them, willing to protect Sam, was practically a miracle. Yes, Dean loved Sam deeply and that was the only reason Dean had turned his back on the one he was enslaved to. He thought of himself as a demon and why shouldn't he? Demon blood was in his veins and the demon bastard had reared him and trained him and used him. Had taught him to fight as a demon, given him demonic powers. Sam hadn't nearly had the time to convince Dean he wasn't demon. If he was, then so was Sam because the same demon blood ran inside him.

As Dean stalked away from the fallen priest, Sam and Bobby dashed to Jim's side. Sam breathed a sigh of relief that his brother hadn't killed Jim because for a moment he wasn't sure Dean wouldn't. Jim winced and dug at his bandaged shoulder and Sam cringed, knowing that Dean had done that. How was he ever going to get the two of them to stop baiting each other?

He and Bobby offered to aid Jim to his feet, but Jim brushed them off, fury in his eyes the likes of which Sam had never seen. Jim extracted a blood-coated hand and spattered it before him whispering words that Sam could feel were demonic. He stared, mouth agape, as Dean was flung into the far wall and Jim went up to his brother, knife in hand, and now he feared as much for Dean's life as he had only moments before for Jim's.

He started to move forward, he had to put an end to this but Bobby grabbed his arm.

"Have faith, Son. You know Jim won't kill him. He's John's boy, your brother."

He heard Jim's words demanding where Sam was placed in Dean's corner of the universe, but then Jim leaned in and any other words were to soft to be made out by Sam or Bobby. When Jim walked away, when Dean was released from Jim's spell, he saw, he felt the rage in his brother. He moved to get between Jim and Dean when after a moment, instead of killing Sam's friend, Dean sprinted out the door.

Sam hesitated only a breath before running after his brother. Dean couldn't leave him! Whatever Jim said to him, it didn't matter. Sam wasn't going to give Dean up.

"Dean!" Sam begged, calling after his brother, frightened Jim had irrevocably destroyed any chance Sam had at saving Dean from himself.


Bobby approached Jim after the brothers ran from the room, the look on Sam's face nearly breaking his heart.

"What the hell were you thinking Jim! We need that boy to protect Sam!"

Jim looked up with tired eyes as he sank into the closest chair. He hurt, he felt dirty, and he really was surprised he was still alive. He had pushed every button he knew, he had revealed things to Bobby and Sam he swore he would never reveal to anyone, though they probably didn't know enough to fully understand the ramifications. For Bobby, that situation would soon be remedied.

"I have the same fears as you, Bobby. I fear that when the demon that practically owns Dean's soul finally arrives, that Dean will crumble and stand with the demon rather than with Sam." His eyes flicked to the mattress where the boys had lain together, thought back to Sam's actions, to Dean's actions. There could be little doubt. "They are lovers, Bobby. We both know it. Sam isn't very good at lying to us, we know him too well. That's more than brotherly love for each other that they are showing. That Dean didn't kill me only proves that. He knew he would lose Sam if he did.

Jim looked up at the old mechanic. "Dean has to find his humanity. He has to. That is the only thing that will save them both. Otherwise, even if he protects Sam, he will return with his demon master and take the punishment the demon will surely mete out, punishment which will ultimately end in his death and Dean will end up in Hell, forever lost. When Dean goes with his master, his 'father', Sam will follow. Sam will do whatever it takes to try to save Dean, and he will draw upon every ounce of power the demon blood has given him and he too will be lost, whether he wins or loses."

"So trying to get Dean to kill you will save Dean?" Bobby demanded. If that wasn't circular reason then what the hell was?

"No. It was to see if Dean could separate himself in his mind from the demon he serves, it was to make him voice what he thinks of humans, of what he fears to be. It was to make Sam realize what Dean thinks and what he must do to save Dean, if Dean can even be saved at this point. I told Sam only love could save Dean." With another glance at the mattress, Jim sighed, "Though I didn't mean for him to take it quite so literally. Incest may get him thrown into hell as readily as anything else he is facing right now, but that is another bridge to be crossed further down the road if any of us survive this anyhow. And before you ask, no I do not approve and would like to rip Sam a new one for being such an idiotic fool. The situation is much more complex than the simple fact they are having sex with one another. Dean knows no better and Sam is too lost in his own pain to see the wrongness of it. So much more is at stake that I will reserve the brimstone and hellfire lecture for Sam at a later date. We've more immediate brimstone and hellfire to deal with."

Bobby sank into a chair beside Jim. "Don't you think you could have waited 'til after this demon showed up 'fore grabbing hold of the tiger's tail?"

Jim pulled the sling over his head, grimacing. His shoulder needed rebandaged at this point. "I had intended to, Bobby, I really had. I let my anger get the best of me. He seems to manage to do that where I am concerned."

"I think it's a Winchester thing," Bobby snorted, moving to help Jim, thinking back to all the times he threatened John with a butt full of buckshot. "Uh, Jim, I know humans can use demon magic like setting protective runes, conjuring, things like that, but what you did, that was a different brand of dark magic, or am I a whole lot more stupid about demon magic than I thought?"

Jim squeezed his eyes shut with a sigh. "No. You are correct in essence, wrong in technicality. There is demonic magic," he waved his hand at the protective runes, "and then there is demon magic, which is what I did. Though the particular spells Dean wove when writing these runes were demon magic."

"And the difference is…?" Bobby asked slowly, fearing he knew the difference and not liking the implication.

The story he had never wanted to reveal. Every hunter had their own reason for becoming a hunter. Every hunter that survived past the first few years had their own share of foolish, nearly got themselves tales. Hunters weren't prone to sharing a lot. If they knew something that might help another hunter, they would offer advice, but how they came by that knowledge was often left in the shadows. Jim had never wanted to tell this tale, but he knew he needed to. Bobby needed to know so he could explain it to Sam. At this point, Jim very much doubted he and Sam would be holding meaningful conversations for a longtime to come. No one held a grudge like a Winchester.

Jim's word came slowly, softly. "My brother was taken and killed by a black dog. That is what got me into hunting, but you know that. He was my only remaining family, and I was sixteen. I was young and stupid and fearless. I survived on guts and balls and sheer damned luck.

"Strange things were happening in a backwater town in Washington. I couldn't really figure out what it might be, but I knew it was supernatural. At the time I didn't know anything about demon possession. Hell, Bobby, I didn't even really believe in demons and angels and I don't know, maybe not even God. After all the evil I saw, I didn't see how there could even be a God." He pulled off the bloody bandages while Bobby got some fresh ones set up. Although the wound had been broken open, it was healing well inside and the damage was mostly to the upper layers of the skin at this point.

"I went after what I soon discovered was a demon and I was no where near prepared or even approached being knowledgeable about demons. This demon, Marta, was waiting on orders from a higher demon though I never did really find out what those orders were. To my shame, it caught me easily. Demons like tormenting hunters as much as priests. It was bored so it decided to keep me alive for awhile. I learned a lot about demons in those months it held me.

"Months?" Bobby gasped.

"Yes. I'm not really sure how long. I know it was less than a year but that's all I'm really certain of. Marta told me demons were once human, souls tortured until nothing was left of them but blind anger. It decided it was curious, it wanted to know if a human that was still alive could be turned into a demon.

"It fed me blood. It tortured me. It raped me. It possessed me. It made me watch it do horrible things, made me chose between tortures done to others or gave me the option of taking their places. Gave me the option of killing them or watching them die as it tortured them to death slowly. I did things, Bobby, things I'm not proud of. I was nineteen and scared out of my mind. Within probably a month or two, I was its dog. I did what Marta ordered because I was too frightened to do otherwise. It taught me demon magic which the demon blood allowed me to cast, but I never developed any abilities, not like Sam and Dean."

Jim paused, the look in his eyes distant and sad. "Another hunter came along, one who knew what he was facing and what he was doing." Jim gave Bobby a brief smile. "I fought for my master. I fought with everything I had to protect Marta. The hunter was more than a little surprised to discover I wasn't possessed. He exorcised my demonic master and freed me."

"I think I understand something of what is going through Dean's head. I have tried different tactics to reach him. As with me, I don't think anything will reach him until his demon master is gone, but I had hoped that might not be the case. I certainly did not believe anything could vanquish Marta just as I am sure Dean thinks the same of his 'father.'

"I didn't tell the hunter that saved me about the books Marta had." He pointed toward the still unopened box that held them. "I went back later and got them. I had the hunter teach me the exorcisms and the devils traps and then I went on a rampage. I killed anything that I could. Hostages didn't mean a thing as far as I was concerned. So long as the evil was destroyed, I didn't care who got hurt along the way."

"I've heard things about you," Bobby said with a slow nod of his head. "Things I found hard to believe."

With a wan smile, Jim gave a slight nod. "Thank you for your confidence, but I would not be surprised if everything you heard was true. I was brutal. I was capable of exactly the same things you have seen Dean do. I don't know that I could do those…yes, yes I could do those things if absolutely necessary, but I would not take the joy in it I once did.

"In those two books are spells capable of many things. If Dean is not familiar with those spells, they would be powerful weapons for him. Those two spells I said I had never sorted out, that was a lie. I know exactly what they do. They are basically kamikaze spells. One will kill any demon within about twenty five miles and if the caster is demon, it will be killed as well. I suspect some of the higher demons would be injured but not killed. The other is the most frightening one. Just as I could conjure a demon…original demons are fallen angels…this spell conjures an angel. Angels would not permit any demon to live, so again, the demonic caster will perish."

"Conjure an angel?" Bobby gaped.

Jim laughed softly. "I have never had the guts to try. I imagine any angel conjured is going to be pissed off to begin with, especially considering demon magic forced it to come and show itself.

"And now you're a priest."

"Pastor," Jim corrected patiently. He had explained the differences between the various religious titles, but time and again they called him priest. He rarely bothered to correct them anymore. "Yes. One night I dreamed about my brother. He came to me, he spoke to me and told me he was disappointed in me, told me I was going to go to Hell if I didn't 'find my humanity' again. With the demon blood in me, I figured it was a given I was going to Hell so why should I care? But my brother said I could be redeemed, demonic blood or not. When I woke up, I found a bible was on the bed stand beside me in the hotel. I don't remember it being there when I went to bed that night but I suppose it was." Jim paused, recalling that dream as if it was yesterday. "My brother meant everything to me. Dream or not, I knew he would be horrified by the things I had been doing. Not knowing what else to do, I finally turned to God for answers. I didn't plan on becoming a pastor. It just sort of happened."

He looked down, realizing Bobby had already finished dressing his injury. He carefully slid the sling back in place and took the aspirin Bobby offered him. "Thank you Bobby. Dean believes he is a demon and now believes making love to Sam will condemn Sam. It is now up to Sam to convince Dean he is not a demon and that they can still be together without risking Sam's soul. If he can do that, then maybe, just maybe, Dean will fight against the demon, fight against going with it when it comes to collect him."

"Any one ever tell you you can be a real bastard?" Bobby asked. He prayed Jim had not broken the relationship the boys were building no matter how wrong that relationship was. If Dean rose against them, they were all dead.

"More people than I can count," Jim admitted ruefully, "but not for many years. We need to get ready. Sam and Dean may have other concerns than the demon and it may be up to us to get rid of it."

Dean ran and didn’t look back, didn’t stop. Not when he threw open the doors of the church and ran out into the open street, not forgetting, but not caring, what might be awaiting outside. Not even when he heard Sam call his name, anguish clear in the younger man’s voice, his brother begging him to stop. No matter how it broke his heart to hear such pain in his brother’s voice. In fact, it might have only made him run faster.

Sleeping with a demon will condemn Sam to Hell.

The priest’s words echoed over and over in his head. He simply couldn’t push them out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Perhaps because he knew they were true. All of them. Dean knew what he was. Knew he was… tainted. He and Sam might share the same blood, a demon’s blood, but Dean was not like Sam. There was none of the… darkness… inside Sam that Dean had known all of his life. In fact, Sam had been the only bright spark within it. Even when the boy had only been a ghost to him, he had been an angel. He was… pure… in a way that Dean could never be… and Dean had already tainted that.

When Sam dies, his soul will be down there right beside your own.

Sam had been pure before he had met Dean. If Dean had known who Sam was in the beginning… he didn’t know if he would have, if he could have, obeyed his father’s wishes. Gone after the boy in his dreams. To bring him to his father, or kill him if Sam was “unworthy”. He didn’t know, and that scared him in so many ways.

Do you intend to wait until you 'father' shows up and hand Sam over then?

No, the very thought made him sick...But could he? Would he? If his father came looking for him himself, found him, with Sam, what would he do? The very idea of standing in front of Azazel now, knowing he had betrayed his master in the worst possible ways, made his knees almost give out beneath him with fear. If simply thinking of it was enough to instill him with terror, how would he ever stand before his father even to protect his brother? Try to stop him from doing what he had planned for Sam…

So he could treat your Sam the same way he has treated you.

He didn’t want to imagine Sam in the hands of his father, the idea sickened him, horrified him, imagining Sam enduring everything Dean had endured. Standing by, unable to do anything but watch as Sam was tortured… trained… beaten… taught… raped… punished… Unable to stop it. Unable to do anything. Watching as his brother was broken, reshaped, his soul twisted into whatever his father wanted, just like he had done to Dean…

I imagine he'll enjoy fucking Sam as much as you have…

“NOOOO!” Dean screamed at the top of his lungs, his legs finally giving out beneath him, he didn’t know if it was from physical weakness or emotional overload. He wanted to kill something. Anything. He wanted to rip it apart, skin it alive and listen to it scream, he wanted to taste its blood and bleed it slowly dry, he wanted to inflict as much pain onto it as he felt inside. The priest would have been the perfect candidate to unleash his rage upon but he couldn’t even do that, because of Sam…

Sam who he certainly hadn’t been able to outrun in his already weakened state, and now that he had stopped the younger man had easily caught up to him. He barely felt his brother’s light touch, before Dean was wrenching himself away from the younger man, hissing as though Sam’s touch had burned him, and growling, his voice deadly serious. “Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me again!”

When Dean burst through the church doors, Sam was petrified the demon was already outside and waiting, petrified Dean was running headlong into the enemy. He called his power up, ready to strike down anything that threatened his brother. What had Jim said to him, god-dammit? He practically wanted to kill Jim himself, even if only figuratively. Even so he would take some measure of delight in punching Jim's lights out for it.

Dean ran and ran hard, but Sam's longer legs gave him a slight edge and the distance between them decreased. Suddenly Dean collapsed, shouting at the heavens with everything in him, as if his very soul was torn asunder.

Sam reached Dean and put his hand on his brother's shoulder, shocked when Dean pulled away violently and the venomous words struck Sam to his core. Sam felt the tears start.

"I don't care what Jim said. He's wrong!" Sam screamed at him. "You said you were a demon. You're not! You're my brother! I love you. You're all I have left! Don't let that bastard demon take you away from me! I can't lose you! I'll die without you Dean."

He wrapped his power around Dean, poured every dram of love he felt for Dean into that power and forced Dean into his arms as he began chanting the most powerful exorcism he knew. If Dean thought he was a demon, he would prove to Dean he wasn't. If the exorcism didn't work, Dean couldn't argue what was plain as day. He could feel Dean's darkness fight against his love. He drew deeper on his power, felt the blood begin to pour from his nose and the headache begin to pound in his head as he tried to burn that darkness from Dean, tried to find the young boy inside Dean that had not been twisted by the demon…Azazel. He heard the name ring in his head. Azazel, Dean's 'father'. Jessica's murderer. Sam's 'father'. Sam clung to the image of his own father, the love he had for his real father, the love he knew his father had for Dean even after what Dean had done. He would not give up, would not let Dean go. If it burned him up from the inside out, even if the power killed him, he would save his brother. His brother would feel loved and be loved. He would not lose the man he loved more than anything else.

Seeing Sam’s tears was like a fist to his gut but Dean refused to let himself do what he wanted. He refused to reach out and take the younger man in his arms, sooth away his pain and his tears with soft touches and kisses, and promises never let him go again. But what he wanted was nothing but a fucking fairytale, and he had been lying to himself enough these last few days. He had tainted Sam enough. He had done the unthinkable. He had risked Sam’s soul to damnation, for his own selfish desires. He had soiled what should have always remained pure.

Dean almost wanted to laugh at his brother’s words. The younger man’s denial that the priest’s words had been anything but the truth, when that was perhaps the only truth that mattered now. Dean was already damned. No, he wasn’t a demon, not completely, but Dean wanted to be. It was what he had worked towards all of his life. What his father had trained him to be. To have all the strengths of his father’s kind and none of their weaknesses. He was not a demon… he was worse…

The elder man turned away from his brother’s words of love. Ignoring them as he should have always ignored them, for Sam’s sake. He had never been Sam’s to lose. Never. Though he wished he could be, it was just another foolish fairy tale he’d been trying to force himself to believe. He was Azazel’s, he had always been, and always would be. The demon owned him body and soul. No… Sam would not die without him… Sam would die, or worse, if he remained with him. He would not let Sam be tainted. He would not let the younger man take his place.

Before he could say or do anything however he felt his brother wrap around him, physically as well as the fledgling power that the younger man had no idea how to control. He heard the words Sam spoke under his breath, and he snarled at them as he tried to struggle away from the other man. His fingers digging into Sam’s arms harshly enough to leave bruises as he tried to break Sam’s hold on him.

“Let go of me!” He screamed, in anger, fear, and even pain. As he tried to resist the power twining around him, trying to reach him as it had before flowing around and between them like they were one being instead of two. It hurt on a level he could not explain trying to force it away, deny it, calling on all the anger and pain he’d ever felt in his life to deny the love Sam was trying to make him feel.

But his defenses were already crumbling. His powers were already weakened, and even though Sam was untrained, he held him easily. Matched his power easily. Perhaps because Dean didn’t want to be freed. He didn’t want to return to Azazel. He didn’t want to leave Sam. But what he wanted didn’t matter. It had never mattered.

It was the pain he could feel in Sam, understanding that the younger man would destroy himself before letting him go which caused him to stop fighting. He practically crumbled in Sam’s arms. Shaking his head in denial even as he allowed Sam’s power to wash over him, to keep it from tearing the younger man apart. All he could feel was the younger man’s love and need of him and he sobbed uncontrollably against his brother’s neck.

“Not for me. Please…” He begged.

Sam held Dean and rocked him, his own tears rolling down his cheeks. "Of course for you. You're mine," Sam told him. "I love you and nothing anyone does or says is going to ever change that. I know you're dark, he made you that way, but you're no demon. I'll bring you into the light with me. I'm not letting Azazel take you back. If demon blood condemns us to burn, we will burn together. If it doesn't, then when we finally die, we will both die free. God brought us together. Either for me to fall into Azazel's clutches and serve him, or for you to fall into my arms and serve God by helping me destroy that bastard. If you end up in Hell, I'll come after you. I'll pull you out. I am never letting you go. Never. Just like you didn't let me go when I started to fall."


Bobby and Jim each held a tranquilizer gun loaded with darts filled with the demon poison and Bobby carried the large blanket with the devil's trap on it. If they could get it over the demon and wrap the demon up inside it like a sack, it would contain the demon. If the demon was writhing around on the ground in agony, they potentially could.

The two hunters paused outside the church, seeing the brothers on their knees, holding each other on the other side of the parking lot near the tree line.

"I'll take left," Jim said.

"Can you feel the evil, like Dean can?"

Jim cast Bobby a disparaging look.

"Okay, okay, I was just askin'," Bobby said.

Jim's gaze raked across the parking lot and the tree line beyond as he slowly walked a perimeter around the Winchester boys. He slid his gaze over to Bobby with every sweep of his eyes, watching Bobby's back as he knew Bobby watched his. The boys seemed caught up in their own world and as he grew closer he could hear sobs coming from, he assumed, Dean, since Sam was holding his brother protectively. Jim prayed what he said had been enough to have gotten through to Dean. He knew Dean had a long way to go to redeem himself. It wasn't fair, he had been forced into evil and never known anything else, but he had to learn to care about others. First, though, he had to break his loyalty to his demon master. His love of Sam might be—no, it had to be—enough. Jim had spat words at Dean he knew the demon would use. Having heard them first from Jim gave Dean a chance to deal with them, to find his own answers so he could stand strong against the demon and know the truth.

The crack of a branch snapped Jim's attention to near where the boys held each other. He ran, gun ready as the shape exploded from the tree line. Jim's first shot missed. He was too far away and the tranq pistols didn't have good range. The strong wind didn't help. Jim pumped his legs hard, putting everything into his sprint. He saw the flash of the blade, saw the man's gaze locked on the boys, on Dean. He realized if Dean was taken out, Sam would be no match for the demon master and that was exactly what the demon intended. Kill Dean and smoke away to tell the master Sam was there. Jim knew there was no time to fire the gun and save Dean.

"Dean!" Jim screamed as he dove between the demon and Dean, the knife meant for Dean buried in Jim's chest. Jim coughed blood as he shoved the gun into the demon's stomach and fired the dart. The demon fell back, confusion crossing his face until the agony put him on the ground, writhing. Bobby was there only moments later, tossed the blanket over the demon, and wrapped the thrashing man inside, tying it tightly closed.

Jim looked down at the knife in his chest and coughed up more blood. He gave a weak smile to Dean. "Demon blood…doesn’t make you demon, son. Only a human could love…Sam like you do. Stand by him, love him, and God will welcome …both your souls."

“Sam, please…” Dean shook his head helplessly, trying to deny the younger man’s words even as he continued to cling to his brother like Sam was the only thing keeping him from drowning. He wanted Sam to take back what he was saying, what he was promising.

That was exactly what he was afraid of. That Sam wouldn’t let him go. He couldn’t stay with Sam, he didn’t belong to Sam no matter how much he wanted to. He belonged to Azazel. One day his father would come for him, tear him away from Sam and there was nothing he could do about it. He would drag the younger man down into the pit with him, no matter what Sam said, and he couldn’t allow that. He just couldn’t. Azazel would never let him go. He would never be free. Sam would only be safe if he were as far away from him as possible.

Dean shuddered when Sam mentioned his demon master’s name. How did Sam know? No, no he wouldn’t let Azazel have Sam. He couldn’t. He had to go, he had to go back. Maybe he could become better, maybe he could make Azazel satisfied with him alone, so he wouldn’t want Sam anymore. Maybe somehow he could convince him Sam was already dead, so he wouldn’t search for his brother, something, anything, but he couldn’t stay… every second he was with Sam put Sam into greater danger.

“Let me go, please…” He begged again. So lost in his focus on Sam, so lost in his despair, he didn’t feel the danger near them until it was far too late.

Even as time seemed to slow down as the demon attacked, he knew this time he wouldn’t be able to react fast enough. Exhausted from the spells he’d cast earlier and fighting Sam moments ago, he couldn’t muster enough power now to retaliate against the demon bearing down on them. He heard his own name shouted from an unexpected source at the same time as he shoved Sam away from him. He didn’t even have his knives with him, left back inside the church foolishly when he’d been so desperate to escape. At least the deadly blade was aimed for him, not Sam…

But it never found home in his flesh as it was meant to, because the man Dean had fully intended to kill moments ago suddenly stood in its path. The demon’s blade burying into the priests flesh, muscle, and bone instead of his own. Dean stood, in utter shock, barely realizing the demon had also been taken out of commission, writhing in agony that Dean knew so well, as he watched the man’s body fall. Watching the blood he had longed to spill pour from the man’s chest and mouth, spilled willingly…

What could very well be the man’s weak dying words rang in his ears like a gunshot, and all Dean could do was stand there, numb and in shock, not understanding any of it. How could a man he hated, try to protect him? How could a man he wanted to kill give his life for him? How could a man he had wanted dead… who was now dying… he suddenly wished to live?

Sam could taste Dean's fear for him, his desperation that Sam leave him so that Sam would stay safe. Flashes of images, of desires, of fears, of thoughts, flitted dizzyingly through Sam's mind. He knew Dean was their source but he could barely make sense of any of them. There a moment, then gone, to be replaced by another. All he could sort out was that Dean intended to try to leave him, to try to keep Azazel from Sam, no matter what it cost him.

"No. We fight together," Sam insisted. "You will teach me to fight and with the two of us, we will break his hold on you. With our powers merged, when we fight as one, nothing will be able to stand in our way. Not even Azazel."

Sam's head snapped up as he realized Jim was coming at them from the side and a stranger was bearing down on them, a knife aimed for Dean's back. Before Sam could even react Dean had pushed Sam away to safety, ready to accept the knife in his own chest when Jim got between the blade and Dean.

Climbing to his feet, Sam stood stunned as he saw Jim fall, as he heard the "whumph" of a tranq gun and the attacking demon stumbled back before collapsing in agony. He heard Bobby's shout of Jim's name, but when Bobby reached them, Bobby tended to what he had to and wrapped the demon in the blanket before turning to his dying friend.

Jim's words penetrated Sam's mind and the shock finally wore off as Sam's senses returned to him. The blood Jim coughed up stained his shirt darkly. There could be no doubt the wound was deadly. Jim's words were weak and his breathing labored. Sam fell to his knees by Jim, fresh tears streaming down his face.

"Jim! No!" Sam screamed at him. He couldn't lose Jim. Not another life. Not another friend. Not because of him.

Pulling the knife from Jim's chest and tossing it away violently, he dredged up his last reserves of energy. He grabbed Dean's hand and pulled Dean down beside him.

"Help me," Sam said and not waiting, let his power flare, drawing Dean's abilities in with his own. They were both so weak and Sam knew he had no chance without Dean's aid. Sam poured every last reserve he had into Jim. "You're not going to die!" he shouted and felt the golden energy twine from him, wrap around Jim and mend the deadly wound.

Sam's head pounded and he thought it was going to explode and it would surely feel better if it did. The blood poured freely from his nose and if he hadn't already been on his knees, he would have fallen to them. Sam screamed as his hands went to his temples and his world turned dark.

Dean’s paralysis was broken when Sam grabbed him and pulled him down next to the dying man. He felt what Sam was trying to do. Knew how dangerous it was. Wanted to tell the younger man not to try it, but the words never left his mouth, the refusal never even fully formed in his thoughts. Only Sam’s words, his brother’s pleading words.

Help me.

Dean’s hands covered Sam’s where they were pressed over the dying man’s chest, barely staunching the heavy flow of blood between their fingers. He felt Sam’s powers surging, trying to repeat the healing that his brother had done to them, that even Dean couldn’t explain. Sam’s power reached out blindly and Dean caught it in his own, directed it as best he could, not knowing if it would even work, but at the same time knowing it must work.

Dean concentrated with all the strength he had, ignoring the thick dripping of blood from his nostrils. Ignoring the migraine like pain that exploded in his head. Feeling Sam’s pain, his exhaustion, his strain even more potently than his own, but he didn’t try to stop him. The blood was slowing, the rise and fall of the chest beneath their hands coming easier, the heart that had been beating so weak and erratically picking up a quicker more natural rhythm.

Dean’s eyes flashed pure gold, and he tore Sam away from the other man before the power could kill them both. Hearing Sam scream and he knew his own voice echoed that pain. Powers shared, pleasure shared, pain shared, life shared...

He collapsed back on the ground with Sam in his arms.

Jim's vision edged black and he found drawing a breath was hard. When he tried, coughing racked his body and copper filled his mouth. He was dying. He really didn't mind. It hurt, but he never expected to die in his bed. He expected to die like most any hunter did. Bloody and painfully. He had married for a time. Jennifer. She had passed from cancer at such a young age, barely forty five. He knew she would be there, waiting on him. He really didn't doubt he would go to Heaven. Yes, he had done terrible things in his days, but he had begged for forgiveness and made amends where he could. Recently he had used the demon blood to cast a demonic spell, but it was for the greater good, in an effort to save his friend's son. And he had already prayed for forgiveness for that, even if only a brief prayer. And now he was dying for that same son. He wondered if it would matter to Dean that he had given his life up for him. Maybe it would help bring him the humanity Jim had told Bobby that Dean needed to find. That, in and of itself, made his death a worthy death if it had helped Dean down that road to redemption. He regretted he could not be there to see the almost demon find his way back to humanity.

He shut his eyes, content to let go of this life. He had many things he had yet hoped to do. Little things. The fence really needed painting. That momma cat that hung around his church, well, he trusted someone would feed her and her kittens. He had three loads of laundry sitting ready to be washed, and wouldn't the next pastor just be boggled by the hidden compartment with all the weapons and holy symbols and books. Ah, but Bobby would take care of those. And he really had meant to get to the Grand Canyon and ride a donkey down into its depths…

The pain flashed through him as the blade was pulled from his chest, and the blood flowed thicker into his lungs, with nothing left to stave it. The pressure inside and now outside his chest hurt but he didn't have the strength or even the concern to complain. And then the power wrapped around him, shot through him, a strange twist of power of purity. He couldn't rightfully say if it was good or evil or neither. Just pure power and it burned his insides. The blood extracted itself from his lungs, his slowly beating heart seemed to realize it was time to beat again and he found he could breathe. It was strange to be able to breathe when he could still taste the blood in his throat and his mouth.

The screams he heard made him snap his eyes open. A nightmare? Was he having a nightmare? He blinked, trying to get his brain to function. Dean cradled an unconscious Sam in his arms, Bobby stared at Jim in wonderment, and something violently writhed inside the blanket-sack Bobby still clutched.

"What did I miss?" Jim asked hoarsely, giving Bobby the barest of smiles. He realized his shoulder no longer hurt. The boys? They had healed him? No, probably just Sam. But that was okay. Dean didn't look like he was ready to rip Jim's head off and as far as Jim was concerned, that was progress. Jim staggered a little as he climbed to his feet. He looked at the blood that coated him. His blood. No wonder he felt a little light headed. He realized he still clutched the tranquilizer gun and stuffed the empty gun in his belt.

"Don't just stand there Bobby," Jim chastised. "I'm not dead yet. Get that demon inside and into a proper devil's trap."

He turned to Dean who cradled the unconscious Sam. Both boys looks pale, both had apparently had the nose bleeds from hell…probably literally.

"C'mon, son," he said to Dean, "let's get your brother inside before more unwanted company arrives. I'm not up to carrying Sam myself, and although I would imagine you could, you look almost ready to collapse yourself. Let me help. We'll get inside faster and speed is a very good thing at the moment."

For a while the only thing Dean was really aware of was the warm weight of the younger man in his arms. Everything else had faded away to a dark grey and Sam was the only bright spot left. The tickle of the younger man’s soft hair against his cheek, the warmth of Sam’s breath against the skin of his throat, his feel, his smell, it was all that mattered to him. Even the painful aftershocks that racked his body, in his mind, as intense as they were, the feeling of his skull threatening to shatter from the pressure inside of it, was dim by comparison.

If not for Sam, his concern for the younger man, Dean probably would have given into the oblivion unconsciousness as his brother had. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Not until Sam was safe.

He heard the words, directed to him. Words of a man that should be dead but wasn’t thanks to Sam’s efforts. Slowly Dean forced his eyes open and even though they felt like they would burn out of his sockets from the bright glare of the sun he kept them open.

Jim’s offer to help Dean carry Sam was met by a vicious snarl however, his arms tightening around the younger man protectively.

“He’s mine.” Dean ground out, his voice a hoarse whisper, but he forced his pain wracked body to move. Pushing himself up and pulling Sam up with him, cradling the younger man against his chest. He slid his arm underneath Sam’s legs, the other around his back and lifted his brother as he stumbled to his feet. Refusing to let himself fall, not with the precious burden he carried.

That was the only reason his steps were steadier and than they should have been, taking Sam back into the safety of the church. Through the doors, his body moving on autopilot, into the workroom he and Sam had slept in before, gently laying Sam down onto the air mattress they had shared before. However as much as he wanted to he didn’t join the younger man on it. Brushing Sam’s hair away from his face tenderly before he stood again and walked over to the table.

He grabbed his knives, strapping them on and pulling them from their sheaths even as he walked out of the room again. Heading down into the basement where he had been kept prisoner not long ago. The devil’s trap on the floor the hunters had foolishly thought would contain him, now containing a real demon.

The demon that had just tried to kill him. That had tried to take Sam away from him…

Jim didn't flinch from Dean's snarl or harsh words. He knew no matter how weak Dean was that he wouldn't drop Sam, so Jim didn't even begin to try to interfere. Sam was Dean's sole reason for living at this point, sole reason for fighting. Hopefully Jim's words had burned through Dean and Dean was now prepared to face his 'father' and anything his 'father' threw at him, verbally or otherwise. Jim retrieved the dart that had missed the demon; he didn't want to risk the demon poison falling into any demon's hands, and picked up the knife that was coated in his blood. He then followed after Dean, stepping in front of Dean at the church to open the door for him and his load. He watched Dean treat Sam with the utmost care, saw the gentle look on his face, the pure love and adoration he had for his …brother. Yes. Well, as Jim told Bobby, he was not about to bring that issue up now.

The look on Dean's face sent a shiver through Jim. He didn't think he would ever feel sympathy for a demon, but he suspected that demon was going to wish it were back in Hell being tortured rather than be at Dean's mercy. After Dean left, Jim checked on Sam and cleaned up his face from the nosebleed. Sam looked so pale. That Sam could heal with his demon given powers was…shocking. Jim had never heard of such a thing, though he knew a demon could rend a person open, why not as easily mend a body as destroy it?

Hearing a sound behind him, he turned. Bobby stood there looking grim.

"If those two boys didn't light a bonfire with all their power plays, I'll eat my hat. We have to run. This place ain't safe at this point. I'll set up a couple minor demon traps to make 'em think we're still here, locked up tight. You need to get to John and keep him safe. I'm gonna take the boys back to my place. We can't be in touch. We can't give either you and John or me an' the boys away. John won't be happy, but when he's well enough, he's gotta go to your place. Can't have him leading the demons back to my place if they ain't figured out we're there. It's the only edge we got. Dean has to teach Sammy how to control those powers of his. Things get bad, we can retreat to the panic room. I told Dean to be quick about getting information from that demon," Bobby said. They could already hear the screams coming from the basement.

"I need your help getting things loaded up," Bobby continued. "I'm going to give you most of the demon poison. I can make more, but I'll give you the recipe and some supplies in case you need it. I'll give you a mojo bag, too, just in case. Let's split up what we need while Dean tends to what he's got to. I’m gonna pull the Impala up. We'll get it loaded, then get your vehicle up here and loaded. Only gather what we absolutely need. The faster we're the hell out of here, the safer it'll be."

Jim gave a sharp nod and set to work.

Dean walked up the stairs, closed the basement door tightly behind him, and wiped off his bloody blades on his shirt before sliding them back in their sheaths. The shirt itself was pretty much ruined anyway, so it didn’t matter. He took it off and used it to wipe off some of the blood on his face and hands as well before tossing it aside.

He glanced up briefly at the open doors of the church, a car pulled up just outside and being loaded with supplies. Dean spared it and the hunters little more than a glance before he made his way back to the room where he’d left Sam.

The younger man was exactly where Dean had left him, though one of the other men had obviously cleaned him up. Someone had washed away Sam’s blood on his face, the hunter’s blood on his hands. Unfortunately not all of it could be removed, especially under the younger man’s fingernails.

It was the only place Dean felt he could touch Sam where he wouldn’t soil the younger man somehow. He curled his fingers around the younger man’s gently, his thumb caressing the back of Sam’s hand slowly. He wanted to curl around Sam completely, close his eyes and forget about anything else in the world for a while, but he didn’t have that luxury now.

He had been quick with the demon, like the hunter said. It hadn’t taken much “coaxing” to get the demon to tell him what he wanted to know. Dean was very good at what he did, after all. Unfortunately it wasn’t able to tell him much. It was only a low level demon it wouldn’t have been trusted with such knowledge.

It had confirmed that Dumah, and the other demon who’d attacked Sam before, had been sent to watch him. To take Sam in case he failed bringing the younger man to Azazel himself. It hadn’t been able to tell him why more demons were not in the area, and hadn’t been sent to investigate the disturbance at the church. Apparently Azazel’s attention was directed elsewhere for the time being, and that worried Dean a great deal. What could be so important that his father not only didn’t care about his disappearance but was also unconcerned for the moment about his failure bringing Sam to him?

It couldn’t tell him more unfortunately, no matter how loudly he’d made it scream, and he’d finally ended its life painfully and messily.

Bobby made quick work of getting the Impala loaded with the essentials: the weapons, the duffels, the spell components and the books. Since Bobby didn't think they absolutely had to beat feet and run, he judged they had a little spare time to grab some extras. It would be a shame to abandon everything they'd bought if they had the opportunity to take some of it with them. With that in mind he took the items he thought would be most useful. He grabbed the queen-sized air mattress, the sheets for it, the new clothes, one of the new electric heaters, the new coffee pot, one of the ice chests, and some of the food. Bobby spread out a couple blankets in the back seat and tossed in a couple pillows so the brothers could get some rest, though admittedly he would try make certain Sam was the one sitting behind him if he could. There wasn't really anything to stop Dean from slitting his throat, taking the car and disappearing with Sam. He really just hoped the two would sleep most the way to his place. It would be better if neither of them were seen anyhow.

As soon as the Impala was loaded Bobby pulled it forward and retrieved Jim's car while Jim brought the next batch of supplies to the church entrance. Since Jim had lost a bit of blood, Bobby figured him going up and down the stairs would only tire him out faster. There wouldn't be as much to load into Jim's car so Bobby knew it ought to go fast. He was going to keep six poison filled tranquilizer darts for himself and leave two for Jim, but he was also giving Jim the bulk of the already created poison. With the lab equipment he was sending with Jim and the spell components, Jim would be able to make up more poison if he needed it.


Bobby was getting ready to head up the stairs to get the first batch of things for Jim's car when he saw a shirtless Dean standing at the church doors. Bobby shook his head and walked over to the Impala, digging out one on the new shirts Sam had bought for Dean. As he climbed the stairs and got closer to man, Bobby saw smears of blood on his hands and viciously scarred chest. Bobby was glad he had pulled the shackles out of the basement earlier because he really didn't want to see what sort of mess Dean had left down there. He handed Dean the clean shirt, then waved at the stuff stacked by the door.

"If you feel up to it, would you help Jim get that stuff loaded in his car? Leave the wooden box for Jim to carry. It's got one of the spell bags in it. I can't imagine it would affect you, but better safe and all that crap."

Bobby turned from Dean and set a few additional perimeter alarms and a few little spells here and there, implying they were still holed up in the church and concerned about someone sneaking up on them. By the time he got back to the front doors, Jim was coming out of the church.

"I did a final walkthrough," Jim said. "We've got everything we need out of there and I don't think we've left anything that will lead them to us. I made sure I got all the receipts from the bags, any bags with store names, anything I thought that might be easily traceable. It should at least help minimize any trail. Dean's getting Sam now."

"You got the runes to protect you and Johnny?"

Jim nodded. "We'll be fine. They're going to be a lot more interested in tracking you down than us. If they draw the right conclusions that Dean had joined Sam, then they'll probably bet Dean won't let Sam walk into a trap. Of course, I'm not going to stand out in the street and thumb my nose at them either."

Bobby rested his hand on Jim's shoulder. "Tell John I'll take care of his boys. You two look after each other. We'll be in touch as soon as we think we can risk it."

"Godspeed, Bobby. And just so you know, I gave Dean my black rosary. Didn't figure he had one in his arsenal. I'll see you soon."

Jim headed to his car.

After checking on Sam, making sure the younger man was still all right, Dean reluctantly left his brother to join the hunters at the front of the church. Watching silently by the doors as the cars were loaded until Bobby came to him with a shirt and asked him to help load up one of the cars. There was really no point in refusing, the quicker they could leave the better. So Dean wordlessly pulled on the dark green shirt, buttoned it up, and started carrying the supplies to the indicated car.

When he was finished he headed back into the church only to be met by Jim in the hallway. Dean frowned a little at the other man, still not completely sure what to think of him. A part of him still wouldn’t have minded to put his knife in the older man’s heart for what he had said, done, to him before. But the other part, the part that had made him help Sam save the man’s life when he’d been dying made him pause, and when the older man gave him the rosary Dean merely took it without a word.

Though he knew how to use one, he was not allowed to carry one normally in his father’s presence. Dean slid it into his pocket now before he continued back to the room where Sam slept. Gathering up his brother into his arms and carrying him quickly outside to the car with the blankets and pillows obviously laid out in the back for the younger man.

Dean did not accept any help getting Sam inside the car, though it was admittedly not an easy task given the younger man’s size and his own weakness, but he managed. Once the younger man was settled he stood back and stared at Sam. It would be easy to leave now with Sam unconscious. To leave him in the hands of the hunters to look after him while Dean led the demons away from his brother. When he was caught, he wouldn’t tell them where Sam was. He had been trained to withstand torture, after all. It would be safer for Sam if he left…

Instead he joined Sam in the backseat, and though it was a tight fit for both of them he managed to curl himself up against the younger man’s back, and wrap his arms around Sam’s waist. Holding the other man securely as he brushed his lips against the back of Sam’s neck. He couldn’t leave, even if he wanted to. It wasn’t what Sam wanted. He was Sam’s now. Perhaps he always had been.

“I’m yours.” He whispered softly into the younger man’s ear.

Although Bobby moved to help Dean, one glare from the young man and Bobby backed off, letting Dean struggle all he wanted. It was obvious Dean was on his last reserves at this point. He silently watched Dean as the young man stood outside the car, looking in on the sleeping Sam. Indecision flashing across the man's face, Bobby choose to keep his mouth shut. It was up to Dean whether to stay or go. Not like Bobby could really stop him in either case, but he could use words to attempt to persuade Dean to a course of action if he had wanted, but he didn't.

Dean made his choice and slid in back with Sam, wrapping Sam in his arms protectively. Well, Bobby figured he didn't have to worry about Dean shoving a knife through the seat, at least not for awhile. It was …. weird to see Sam in Dean's arms. Bobby couldn't help but equate Dean to an adoring guard dog. He'd do anything for his master, and kill anyone who tried to touch his master.

After climbing into the driver's seat, he started the car, pausing long enough to spread a light blanket over the two boys. He resettled himself and gave a wave to Jim before heading out onto the open highway.

The long drive back to his place was uneventful. He stopped twice for gas, once about halfway home, and another time not far from his house, making sure the Impala had a full tank if they needed it for any reason. Both times they stopped Dean roused, his eyes dark and wary. Bobby reassured him they were just stopping for gas both times and as soon as they were back on the road, the young man went right back to sleep. Sam hadn't stirred and it was beginning to concern Bobby.

Relief filled Bobby when he reached his drive. It was good to be home. Bobby pulled up as close to the house as he could. As before, as soon as he shut the engine off, Dean's eyes slit open. It was almost unnerving.

"We're here, Son. See if you can't wake Sam up. He should probably eat a little something. You both probably ought to." Bobby straightened and cast his gaze around the junkyard. It seemed quiet and he didn't feel like they were being watched or had been followed, still, it might be best to go ahead and put the brothers in the panic room. No sense taking any more chances than necessary.

Bobby grabbed a few things from the front seat and walked up the stairs to his house. He left the door standing open for Dean and Sam while he set the bag of books and weapons down, then went into the kitchen and got some coffee started. He tossed some bacon into the skillet on the gas stove and flicked on the oven so he could make up a batch of toast for them. He let the bacon begin to cook while he started unloading the car.

After the older man got into the driver’s seat and started the car, Dean allowed himself to relax finally. The exhaustion that had been pulling at him all this time allowing him to fall asleep almost immediately. The warm weight of Sam in his arms and the (surprisingly) familiar and comforting sound of the rumbling engine lulling him deeper into sleep than he normally would have allowed himself.

Though not so deep that he didn’t wake instantly every time there was a significant change in his surroundings. Every time they stopped and the engine shut off he was awake and alert in an instant, one hand automatically shifting to one of the knifes at his hip beneath the blanket, his fingers easily curling around the hilt. Always ready to defend the precious bundle in his arms with his life if he had to.

When they finally reached their destination, Dean nodded slightly to Bobby’s suggestion before turning his whole attention onto Sam again. Lifting a hand to brush his brother’s hair back away from his face. It was almost a shame to wake the younger man up, he looked so peaceful. But Bobby was right, and more than that, he wanted to see Sam’s eyes open again, feel Sam’s touch, hear his voice.

“Sam?” He said softly, close to the shell of the younger man’s ear. Letting his lips lightly brush along the curve down to the other man’s neck, lightly nipping at the soft skin just below it, licking and sucking. He nuzzled gently into his brother’s neck while his hand trailed slowly down the younger man’s shoulder and back. Slipping underneath the back of Sam’s shirt to gently caress the flesh warmed by sleep and being pressed so close together for so long, letting his fingers trail around to caress up Sam’s stomach.

“Time to wake up, Sammy…” Dean breathed against the younger man’s neck.

Snatches of events flashed through his mind.

The black-eyed man rushing Dean, ready to kill his brother, his lover. Jim's blood pouring over his hands, the liquid warm and slick. The darkness curling inside him, wanting to rend and destroy while Sam forced it to mend instead. Dean's warm arms catching him, holding him, carrying him. Gentle touches on his skin. Treasured. The man with gold eyes. Calling to him. Demanding he come. Trying to grab hold of the darkness inside Sam, trying to find Sam and drag him away. Silver and gold lines batting back those searching tendrils, weaving Sam's essence into the background so he couldn't be found. The soft rumble he knew, had heard all his life. The warm arms wrapped around him, protecting him, keeping him safe. Soft measured breathes warm on his neck. Someone calling his name softly, lovingly. The gentle touch running down his back, the callused hand like fire on his flesh, welcome fire. Wet hot lips on his neck calling him out of his sleep.

Sam slowly opened his eyes, arching a little into the mouth lightly biting and sucking on his neck. The touch on his stomach tender and familiar. The front seat of the Impala all he saw in front of him. One thought ran through him.

Shit! He was making out in the back seat of the car and his Dad was going to come along any minute and catch him.

Sam snapped awake and started to sit up, realizing that he was precariously balanced on the edge of the seat, the girl he was making out with behind him and holding him in place and the strong arm kept him from flailing and falling on to his face onto the floor.

….Strong arm….

Dean.

Dean held him. His dad wasn't there…was he? Crap! Jim? Had Jim survived? Where was he? Where were they?

Sam put his hand over Dean's arm as he slowly pushed himself up high enough to peer out the window. He felt Dean's arm tighten around him and try to pull him back down.

Bobby's. They were at Bobby's. He collapsed back into the seat and turned his head.

"Is Jim…" he began, but his question was swallowed by Dean's hot mouth on his own, and he couldn't do anything but respond. Dean's close presence, their mouths locked together, chasing away any lingering images from his sleep. He groaned into Dean's mouth and wrapped his arm over Dean's waist and slid his hand down to Dean's buttocks and tried to pull their bodies closer. He welcomed Dean's tongue into his mouth, brushed its investigating tip with his own tongue and pressed his mouth harder against Dean's.

He really did need to know about Jim, but he was afraid of the answer and this, this was so much safer. Only love. Not loss.

Dean felt Sam shift against him as the younger man woke, pushing back against him and the elder man smiled against his brother’s warm skin. The elder man moaned softly and let his hand on Sam’s stomach slide just a little bit lower, his fingertips dipping just under the waistband of his jeans.

He knew the instant that Sam woke up fully, the way the younger man tried to sit up suddenly and nearly toppled off the seat all together if Dean hadn’t had such a good hold on him.

Dean made a sound of displeasure when the younger man tried to pull away and tugged Sam back in close to him. He shifted his weight when Sam turned so that the younger man was more underneath him, and let one of his thighs slip between Sam’s legs. His arms wrapping even more securely around his brother, his mouth finding Sam’s and his tongue pushing its way past the younger man’s lips, all but ignoring his brother’s words.

He moaned at the feeling of Sam’s hand on his ass and shifted his hips forward, rubbing himself against the younger man as he let his tongue explore his brother’s mouth as though it were for the first time. So close… he’d come so close to never feeling this again…

He still wasn’t sure what to think about everything the man had said to him. It still bothered him and made him afraid for Sam. Made him afraid for them both… but he could not deny what he felt for the younger man. It would be easier to cut out his own heart than to stop deny this.

Dean brought an end to their kiss only to allow them both to take a much needed breath. Though that didn’t stop him from continuing to press smaller kisses to them as he panted softly against younger man’s lips, then working his way down Sam’s jaw and throat with little flicks of his tongue.

“The priest is alive.” He finally said, almost as an afterthought, before latching onto the spot just above Sam’s collar bone with his mouth and beginning to suck a bruise into the other man’s skin. At the same time working his hand underneath Sam’s jeans to palm the warm flesh and muscle of the younger man’s ass.

When Dean pressed down and rubbed against him Sam moaned into his brother's mouth and his grip tightened on his brother's ass. When Dean broke away from the kiss that was really beginning to do things to Sam's body, Sam gave a small whimper of complaint, even though it did give him a chance to catch his breath. Dean's own breath washed over his lips and skin as his lips worked their way down to Sam's throat and Sam couldn't help but expose his throat more to that talented mouth. He barely heard Dean's affirmation that Jim was alive because he was groaning as Dean sucked at his skin and slid his hand down the back of his jeans. Sam pressed down on Dean's ass as he arched up into Dean, rubbing against him, his other hand sliding under Dean's shirt and raking his nails along Dean's back.


Bobby walked down the stairs and headed toward the car. He frowned. Dean still wasn't out with Sam? Was he having trouble waking Sam up? He approached the car worriedly.

"Dean, is Sam …" Bobby's words faded as he choked on them.

They were both awake. Definitely both awake. Sam was moaning and bucking up against his older brother who was busy laying a hicky on him and had his hand stuffed down the back of Sam's pants. A small voice inside him noted helpfully that at least it wasn't down the front of Sam's pants. Bobby stood and stared, mouth agape. Yeah, he and Jim knew the brothers were making out but-but-but…


Sam's eyes, half closed as he enjoyed Dean's ministrations, snapped open when he heard Bobby's voice. Bobby stood there, staring in at them and the only way it could have been worse was if it had been his dad finding him making out in the backseat with his brother. Sam immediately turned scarlet red and yanked his hand out from under Dean's shirt.

"Bobby, uh, hi," Sam stuttered, turning redder if that was possible, as he tried to encourage Dean to cease and desist.

Of course Dean had heard Bobby's voice, and had decided to ignore it. He was far more concerned with the warmth of his brother's flesh beneath his mouth and hands. Moaning at the feel of Sam's hand sliding up underneath his shirt and resting on his back. Loving the feel of the younger man's nails on his skin, his brother clutching his ass, and bucking up against him.

However when Sam's attention was no longer fully on him, in fact, pushing at his shoulders, trying to push him away, Dean finally stopped sucking on Sam's skin and lifted his head. Not bothering to remove his hand from where it was, palming his younger brother's ass, and certainly not shifting his position off of the younger man despite Sam's pushes. His annoyance was more than apparent, but he didn't even look at Sam, rather turning his glare upon Bobby who'd interrupted them.

"As you can see, Sam and I are busy, and this isn't a free show." Dean said, rather than stopping or removing his hand from the back of Sam's pants, giving the younger man's ass a good squeeze instead as he slid his fingers down between his cheeks.

Sam felt Dean press harder against him and when he felt Dean's finger dive between his cheeks to reach that sensitive hole, he tried but couldn't stifle his moan, couldn't help but push back against Dean. His head fell back, embarrassed beyond embarrassed, and his dick just didn't seem to care Bobby was standing just outside the car looking in on them, shock on his face.


Dean's annoyed insolent tone got to Bobby. Maybe even more than seeing the brothers humping each other. He was, more than a little, glad he hadn't waited to come out because he did NOT need to see them really going at it. He wasn't a a homophobe, it never particularly mattered to him what flavor a man chose in a partner, though he still found it odd to think of Sam with a man. Maybe they were brothers but, hell, they hadn't grown up together, hardly knew each other except for sharing that bond Sam had told him and Jim about. He could understand how that bond and Sam's loss might drive him into the arms of someone familiar and caring. The look on Dean's face when Sam was in danger of going darkside left no room for doubt Dean the demon boy cared deeply for Sam. And he had seen Dean in Sam's arms after Jim had said what ever he had said to Dean, so Sam certainly cared for Dean. As was potently obvious. Okay, he would push aside the word, the concept of, incest for now. This was going to take some time to deal with, and he would definitely have a few words with Sam about it but they could not afford for Bobby to freak out about it. So Bobby would save his freaking out for later tonight when he could have a good stiff drink, several good stiff drinks in fact, and try to deal with it all. And there was so much to deal with, aside from the whole brother thing, he was looking forward to getting stinking drunk.

Bobby opened the rear car door. "And the back of the Impala ain't a hotel! We've been on the run, Sam hasn't eaten in I don't know how long, the car needs unloaded, and we need to get you two inside, out of view, and safe. So keep your damned dick in your pants and both of you get off your asses and help me get the car unloaded. After your work is done, and you've eaten, then," Bobby waved a hand, "you can pick up where you left off, but inside where it's safe and where I don't have to see or hear you."

The longer Bobby stood there staring at them the more annoyed Dean got. When the older man instead of leaving opened the rear car door and gave his little speech, Dean’s annoyance flashed over to real anger very quickly.

“What we do with our dicks and when is none of your fucking concern.” Dean all but growled at the older man, still not bothering to move himself or his hands off of his brother. In fact, only grinding and rotating his hips down harder against the younger man’s. Enjoying the friction of their erections sliding together even with the layers of cloth separating them.

“Sam ate the last time I did, this morning, and he can eat again when he says he’s hungry, he doesn’t need you to tell him to. Unloading the car can wait fifteen minutes. And we don’t need a god damned chaperone, so if you don’t want to see and hear then get lost.” Dean continued, and with barely a thought Dean pulled the car door out of the man’s hand, shut and locked it, as well as all the other doors for good measure.

Ignoring the older hunter completely then, Dean turned his attention back to his brother. Taking the younger man’s mouth in a fierce kiss, practically thrusting his tongue down Sam’s throat with a deep moan of pleasure.

Sam was mortified. That was the only word for it. Bobby was right, they needed to do just what Bobby said they needed to. But Dean felt so good lying on top of him, pressing down on his most definite erection. Bobby was going to be pissed as hell if they didn't do what he told them and Bobby had gone above and beyond in helping Sam, and really, accepting Dean. Kind of. And he really was hungry.

When Dean slammed the door and stuck his tongue down Sam's throat, kissing him hard enough to surely leave bruises, moaning into his mouth, it was hard to concentrate on what he should be doing rather than what he was doing. Dean grinding down against him brought its own moan from him. That moan turned into a groan when he heard Bobby's next comment.

"Sorry. I thought Sam was worth more to you than a fifteen minute fuck!"

He felt Dean's tension, felt his anger increase and could feel the threat of Dean's powers coming into play.

"No!" Sam told Dean, pulling away from the kiss. "Don't you dare do anything. If nothing else, we're below their radar, and we need to stay below their radar." He planted a placating kiss on the elder man's lips. "Let's get the car unloaded and get inside. I'd like more than a fifteen minute quickie. I want food, I want a shower, and then," He pulled Dean into a fierce kiss of his own. "I expect dessert." He bucked up against Dean, rubbing his erection hard against him. "A good long dessert with no interruptions and I want to hear my name on your lips when you make love to me, when you're buried inside me."

Dean was coming very close to reminding the older hunter that he wasn't some damned tamed dog to be ordered around, especially not by Bobby. His anger was close to boiling over, and he wasn't afraid to use it against the older man. An almost vicious growl escaping his lips at the hunter's next comment, his head snapping up and his eyes flashing. But when Sam pulled away from him, telling him to stop, Dean all but froze everything he was doing, looking back down into his brother's eyes.

The soft kiss the younger man placed on his lips made Dean relax slightly, his promise that they would pick up where they left off soon and the deeper longer kiss made his anger dissipate if not his arousal. He licked his lips nodded slightly, confirming he would do whatever Sam wanted. Though that didn't stop Dean from casting the older hunter a nasty glare as he pushed himself up off the younger man, unlocked the door behind him, and got out of the car. Not bothering to hide the lingering effects of his arousal from the older man.

Without a word Dean went around the trunk of the car, grabbed some things out of it, and proceeded to carry them into the house without a word.

Bobby's arms were folded across his chest and he matched Dean glare for glare, but he was surprised he hadn't ended up halfway across the yard. He had Sam to thank for that and he knew it.

When Sam climbed out of the car, he managed a sheepish grin, embarrassed by his erection and the older hunter finding them and seeing them, and his blushing face showed it. "I'm sorry Bobby. I know…I know it's weird."

"We'll talk later about it. Just keep that boy from killing me. Remind him you both need me. But I can tell him and me are gonna butt heads. He's gotta be a Winchester. Never wanted to strangle someone so bad in all my life," Bobby growled as he watched Dean walk up the stairs and into his house.

"Well, I kinda hope he isn't," Sam admitted softly. "I don't want to think about—"

"Stop worrying about it, Sam," Bobby said, but shifted a little uncomfortably. "Look, I don't want to see it, I don't want to think about it, and I'm definitely going to need a good stiff drink tonight. We'll talk about it later. Right now, I just want to get you boys safe down in the basement. I got a panic room down there." He led Sam back to the trunk. "I brought the queen sized mattress for you. I figured you…well that you might like the bigger mattress for down there."

Sam smiled at Bobby's words. "Thanks Bobby. I'll talk to him, try to explain." When Bobby handed him the mattress, he blushed a little. "Thanks for that, too."

"Well, get to work," Bobby said, motioning at the trunk as he began to grab stuff out of it and carry it in.

Sam loaded up, noticing that Bobby had brought everything he bought for Dean. He watched Bobby stomp up the stairs, ignoring Dean as they passed. Sam started for the door. Seeing Dean's expression, he stopped in front of him.

"Play nice," he scolded gently. Then he motioned to the box he held among the bags. "Look, he even brought along the big mattress for us. And everything I bought for you. He's just worried about us and wants us safe. And thank you. For doing what I asked." He leaned in and planted a light kiss on Dean's lips then whispered in his ear. "I'll thank you properly after we eat and shower." He nipped Dean's ear and then headed for the stairs.

Dean could smell the bacon cooking in the kitchen when he entered the house, dumping the supplies he’d carried in by the door. When his stomach growled at the smell he grudgingly had to admit he was a little hungry himself. Not that he was about to admit it, and besides that, he was used to going without food. Sometimes days. He’d been “spoiled” since he’d been... with... the hunters and Sam. He wasn’t used to eating three square meals a day on a regular basis. He had to remind himself that Sam probably wasn’t used to going without meals like he had, and maybe, big maybe, Bobby was right about that much.

That didn’t mean he was at all happy about having to stop what he and Sam had been doing, and he certainly didn’t like the implication that he had been being careless with his brother’s safety. He’d never let anything happen to Sam. The older hunter should know that by now. He didn’t like the older man ordering him around either, but he would abide by Sam’s wishes...

Heading back outside to the car for more supplies, Dean didn’t bother to hide a satisfied smirk noting the older man’s rather foul expression as they passed. He wasn’t surprised at all when Sam stopped him, and arched an eyebrow at the other man when his brother told him to “play nice.” He didn’t bother to remind the younger man that he was playing nice. He hadn’t ripped out the older man’s liver yet, after all, but he didn’t think his brother would appreciate his point of view. He also didn’t bother to remind Sam that Bobby was hardly worried about him, only Sam.

Sam’s thanks surprised him a little, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain, especially with the younger man’s promise to thank him “properly” later. As he watched Sam’s ass as the younger man walked into the house and up the stairs Dean knew he was going to very much enjoy extracting that thanks from the younger man.

Dean continued on his way to the car, gathering as much of the supplies out of it as he could carry, the sooner they finished this meaningless manual labor, dinner, and showers the better.

Sam was a little startled that Dean was surprised by his thanks. Then again, when did a demon say thanks? He would eventually convince Dean that Bobby might be gruff, but was good hearted. He wasn't sure Bobby particularly liked Dean, but for Sam, he would deal with Dean and provide for them both. Sam had to admit he was surprised Bobby had sort of approved of their relationship by bringing the big mattress for them. He knew Dean didn't understand, not really. He was also pleased that Bobby had brought Dean's new things. Having eyed everything in the trunk, he knew the heater, the coffee pot, and a few other things were for Sam and Dean down in the …panic room? He was rather looking forward to seeing what Bobby considered a panic room.

When he hit the front door, the smell of the cooking bacon had his stomach rumbling and growling in demand. Fresh, home cooked food. And Bobby was a decent cook most times. Bobby waved him to drop his load by the basement door.

Bobby hurried back out to the car. He didn't even bother to glower at Dean this time. They'd had their tiff, Bobby survived, and Sam convinced Dean to do what Bobby wanted. Acceptable for an outcome as far as Bobby was concerned. Besides, he really did want to try to pick the demon boy's brains about the Abyssal Tongue. And he was itching to get a look at those books Jim had given him to give to Dean.

Sam strode back out to the car, passing his brother, taking a moment to leer at him, raking his eyes over Dean's body. He was definitely looking forward to a shower, preferably with Dean, then a nice long bout of love making, followed up by another shower, and a good long sleep in his brother's arms on a comfortable mattress and no worries about somebody walking in on them. They could be as noisy as they wanted and he wanted to hear Dean shout his pleasure, he wanted to give Dean whatever Dean wanted to take from him.

He saw Bobby dump his next load in the living room, then went on into the kitchen. "Sam, you and your brother finish unloading the car. I need to finish getting breakfast cooked. It should be done by the time you two are."

"Got it, Bobby," Sam called in to him.

Between Sam and Dean, the Impala was unloaded in short order and Sam moved the old car into a spot along side the house. It was out of direct line of sight of the driveway, mostly in the shade, and quickly accessible through a window if need be.

"Dean," Bobby called to the man from the kitchen. "Would you mind getting out some plates from the cabinet and some glasses? OJ and butter are in the fridge, and silverware is in the drawer by the sink. Is scrambled eggs okay or you prefer 'em over easy? I think I got some cheese and onion in the fridge and could whip up an omelet if that's more you your liking."

Bobby didn't bother turning around as he pulled the bacon out of the pan, stacking the slices onto a thick layer of paper towels. He opened the oven and started filling it with slices of bread. If the boy wanted to eat, he could damned well do his share of chores. And Bobby did try to ask politely. Sam he would have just told to get the plates out, but he figured Dean wouldn't take too well to that same tone. John always bristled when Bobby told him to do something rather than asked. But John couldn't throw him across the room, hold him against the wall and practice his skills at knife throwing or something.

Dean dumped his last load of crap by the door while Sam moved the car. Standing in the hallway he took his first good look around the house they would apparently be staying for a while, Bobby’s home, apparently. It was old, definitely had seen better years, but it was larger than he expected. Two floors plus a basement, living room, kitchen, what looked like a den or office of some kind. His sharp eyes easily picked out the various protection symbols that had been etched into the wood or drawn onto the walls and Dean couldn’t help but approve.

Dean wasn’t really surprised looking through one doorway to see shelves lining the walls filled by books mostly. He didn’t need to look at the titles to know what they were. Books on the occult, demons, spirits, and any number of creatures, typical hunter reading. Though some of the older looking books, the covers bound in leather and the pages yellowed, did catch his attention, but before he could more than glance at them he heard Bobby’s voice from the kitchen.

Dean huffed to himself and rolled his eyes when the older man asked him to set the table of all things. He thought briefly about ignoring Bobby. But not wanting to upset Sam instead he merely walked into the kitchen and began opening cabinets searching for the previously mentioned items. Taking the plates and glasses out of the cupboard and putting them on the table, the same with the orange juice and butter.

It wasn’t as though he had anything better to do at the moment anyway, well, nothing better to do that hadn’t already been interrupted. Refusing or ignoring the man just to test his temper could have been amusing, but again, Dean didn’t want to upset, or worse, anger his brother.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean answered simply when the older man asked him how he wanted his eggs. Whether the older man took it as more stubbornness or not, didn’t really concern Dean, but the simple fact of the matter was that it really didn’t matter to him. Food was food. He wasn’t very picky about what he ate. The man could have handed him a mold covered crust of bread and some putrid water and Dean would have taken it without any real complaint.

Dean walked over to the sink and opened the drawer, took out some silverware and put it down on the table next to the plates. He was leaning against the counters flipping one of the butter knives between his fingers by the time Sam finally joined them in the kitchen.

"Thank you, Dean," Bobby said as he poured the scrambled eggs into the sizzling pan. "You boys sit down. I got it from here."

Bobby busied himself with stacking the toast on the plate, the bacon, and as soon as the eggs were done, he put them in a big bowl. He set everything on the table and got the coffee started before joining the two at the table. Pleased, he thought to himself, Now this is a proper breakfast.

"Sam, if you'd do the clean up when we're done, I think I ought take your brother around and show him the things he needs to know about the house. I don't know if I got the kind of protection you boys might need, so you two might need to put some more of those symbols around the house when you feel up to it. Tomorrow sometime or tonight. Whenever." He glanced at Dean. "I don't know if you need spell components but I'll show you the cupboard of them. I do have a few more exotics hidden about, so if you need anything, ask. I might have it. I'll show you the weapons cache, and you can take what you think you might need, if you want more than those knives you got. I don't got anything that'll kill a demon though. 'Cept maybe that demon poison. I'll get some of that made up this evening and get some more tranq darts set up and get you boys each a pistol of 'em.

"I figure you boys would be safest sleeping down in the panic room. Dean, you'll have to let me know if that room will keep your powers hidden when you use them or if when you're teaching Sam you're waving a red flag. I'll take both you boys on the tour of the panic room after we get the other stuff done. We can get the supplies sorted out, get stuff down there for you. There is a shower down there, but it's not the greatest, so we'll set you up in the guest bathroom. I dunno if you got an interest Dean, but I might have some books you're welcome to thumb through.

"Sammy already knows, but I'll tell you. You're my guest. Damned near anything I got, you're welcome to borrow. If you need something, ask if you can't find it. I'd appreciate you being careful with my stuff. In return for me feeding you and doing my best to be a good host, I ask you help out with the chores. Dishes, cooking, taking out the trash, laundry, picking up after yerself, things like that. Tomorrow I'm going out to stock us up on food and anything else we might need. You be thinking if there's anything you need or want. You too, Sammy."

Sam smiled to himself as Bobby ticked off the things he wanted to tell Dean. He wondered how Dean was going to react to Bobby offering everything but the shirt off his back. That too, if Dean really needed it. He grinned at Dean as he said, "No problem Bobby. I'll get the kitchen cleaned up.

Dean looked at the older hunter as though Bobby had spontaneously grown a second head. Barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the older man’s offer of “thanks” as he sat down. He’d just gotten dishes out of the damn cupboard, nothing special, nothing that needed “gratitude”.

What was with all of the politeness all of a sudden? He’d already promised Sam that he wouldn’t gut the older man like a fish in his sleep, this forced “please and thank you” shit was beginning to get on his nerves almost as much as the older man’s obvious scorn from a few days ago. At least the man’s hate towards him had been honest.

Glancing at the younger man beside him Dean had the feeling the older man’s change in attitude was more for his brother’s benefit than his. Since Dean honestly didn’t care what the older hunter thought of him. As long as Bobby stayed out of his way, he would stay out of the hunter’s. A plain and simple arrangement as far as Dean was concerned, no reason to sugar coat it further.

If Bobby was doing it to please Sam, however, there wasn’t much Dean could do about it. In private however he hoped the man dropped the pretending to play nice act or Dean was going to get very irritated very quickly. He wasn’t an idiot and didn’t appreciate being treated like a simpleton.

Dean nodded absently as the older man spoke, resisting the urge to yawn. Yes, he’d take a look at the protections. Yes, he’d put more up later if he thought they needed more. He had honestly no idea if anything would really shield his, or Sam’s, powers from his father… from Azazel. Aside from not using them. But it was a risk they had to take because Sam needed to learn. He could only hope whatever protections he put up, and whatever protection this “panic room” offered would be enough.

Dean raised an eyebrow when the older man went on to call him his “guest”. Yeah right. Guest… glanced at Sam, his expression probably clearly reading “is he fucking for real?” but seeing Sam’s rather pleased look Dean merely sighed and once more resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the whole act. Whatever. If it made Sam happy, he’d play along. He’d do whatever meaningless manual labor Bobby wanted. Though he honestly didn’t think the man wanted him to “cook” considering Dean had no idea how.

“I don’t need anything.” He answered the older man’s question easily enough. Everything Sam had gotten for him already were luxuries that Dean wasn’t used to having anyway. Hoping that the discussion or whatever was over now, Dean sat back and waited for the other men to take their portions of the meal and for Sam to give him whatever was going to be his.

Sam had already dug out a pile of scrambled eggs and five slices of bacon. He buttered up the toast as he listened to Bobby. He started eating then glanced over at his brother. Dean hadn't begun to dish anything out onto his plate. Bobby, being the good host was waiting for Dean to take what he wanted.

Sam and Bobby passed mildly confused looks.

"Dean," Sam asked, "aren't you hungry?"

"The skillets still hot," Bobby offered. "I can still fix you up some eggs over easy if this isn't to your liking. Or something else if you don't like eggs. I can fry you up some chicken or a burger, but it'll take a bit since the meat's frozen."

Sam sat back and tilted his head. "That's not the problem is it Dean?" Demons had an hierarchy. And he remembered that Dean wasn't fed that often, at least if his 'dreams' were accurate. Dean being human got the leftovers. If there was anything left over. Sam reached across the table and took Dean's hand in his own. "Everyone gets an equal share. And if there's food left over and you want more, you can go back for seconds. You ask if anyone else wants seconds and then you and they split what's left. If no one else wants anymore, then you can have as much of the extra as you want. And Bobby being the host is letting you have first shot at the food. If this were my place, you and Bobby would serve yourselves first," Sam explained.

Dean stared at Bobby, waiting, and Bobby stared at him. It was awkward and he was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the regard and he didn’t like it. What exactly was the older man was waiting for? He’d answered Bobby’s question. What else did he want? Maybe he wanted him to leave the table now so he and Sam could finish eating? To be honest he was a little surprised he’d been asked to sit down to begin with.

Dean actually started to get up when Sam asked him if he were hungry and Dean turned to look at the younger man before looking back at Bobby when the older man offered to make him something else. Dean shook his head. The food was probably fine, he didn’t need anything else…

Dean looked back over to his brother when Sam guessed what the “problem” was, took his hand and began to explain. Dean frowned a little, not really understanding. Well, he understood but he still didn’t really understand. It wasn’t… what he was used to. At all.

He didn’t eat unless he was given food. That’s always the way it had been. Sometimes, when he’d done especially well serving his father he’d been allowed to eat at Azazel’s side. The demon would give him food, off of his own plate no less, and it was a great honor. But if he wasn’t given any food, then Dean didn’t eat. Period. To simply take food… even if he could, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to choke it down.

Dean looked down at the plates of food, then turned his eyes back to Sam and shook his head.

“I can’t.”

"Well, we don't usually stand on that much ceremony in this house, but that's okay," Bobby said gruffly as he stood up. He picked up his plate and dished out a good helping of eggs and bacon and toast, and put a decent dollop of butter on the plate. Damned if he was going to butter the boy's toast for him too. Bobby knew enough of the way of things he figured he would 'get it' more readily than Sam who would probably stand there arguing with Dean while the food got cold. He picked up Dean's empty plate and slid the full plate in front of Dean.

"Now don't be thinking that's all you're getting for the next few days. We have two or three meals a day around here. You don't need to finish it all if you're full. Won't be any offense taken if you leave food on your plate. Rumsfield will happily finish off anything we don't eat. It that ain't enough, then there should be enough for a second helping, and I can always break open a couple more eggs."

Bobby filled his own plate with as much as he'd given Dean, then poured them all some orange juice.

"Sam, sit your butt down and don't give your brother any grief over it. That's the way he was reared and he's already dealing with a lot of things he ain't used to. Eat before your meal gets cold," Bobby said.

Sam had started to open his mouth, ready to try to talk some sense into his brother, but Bobby's firm words had him snapping his mouth closed and sitting down. As always, Bobby was right. Well, almost always. He just wanted Dean to be … normal. Or at least, he expected Dean to be normal, and that wasn't the case. And it wasn't going to be the case any time soon. Sam smiled at Dean. They'd get through this clash of their worlds.