The Eight ball sunk into the corner pocket and Dean gathered up his winnings. He ignored the slightly dirty suspicious looks he received as he made his way away from the pool tables in the smoke filled bar to get a drink. He was three hundred dollars richer but was still a little bit reluctant to slap the twenty down on the bar to pay for the two shots of whiskey he ordered. But his knuckles were raw and his jaw was both throbbing, not to mention his bruised ribs that had nothing to do with the fight he'd gotten into in the parking lot. It was just one of those nights and he could definitely use the drink.

The bar was one of the sleaziest joints he'd been in a while, and that was really saying something. The smoke made your eyes water it was so thick and the beer tasted like piss. Hell it didn't even have a name, the neon sign out front simply said "bar". If they didn't need the money so bad he probably wouldn't have stopped in on his way back to the motel. But they did need the money and it was the only place in this bumfuck middle of nowhere town to get a decent pool game going.

Dean tossed back one of the shots, feeling the burn of the hard liquor all the way down into his stomach. Wincing a little as some drunk asshole bumped into him putting an elbow into his side exactly where he'd landed hard against a tombstone a couple of hours ago.

It wasn't his fault really. It had been just a simple salt and burn. The ghost bitch had decided to get pissy with him right before he'd managed to light up her bones, that was all. Sam would probably get just as pissy though when he saw the bruises. His brother hadn't even wanted him to take the hunt. He wouldn't have, except the ghost bitch had recently went from just scaring the new owners of her old house in the middle of the night with loud noises to throwing them down the stairs.

Dean sighed, tossed back his second shot, then gathered up his change from the bar. Sam was waiting for him and he didn't like leaving the younger boy alone for too long. At least he'd managed to make enough cash tonight to last them a little while if they stretched it. It had gone pretty smoothly too… well, except for the fight he'd gotten into after the first game. But that had only been because the asshole's girlfriend had been flirting with him, Dean hadn't even been flirting back, but the asshole had made an issue of it.

Sam would probably get pissy with him about that too… not to mention coming home smelling like smoke and booze again. But what else could he do? They needed money. Money to feed Sam and make sure his brother had a bed to sleep in most nights. At least he'd managed to make enough off of pool tonight that he didn't have to resort to… other means… to make up the difference. He hated doing that, but he would, if he had to.

Dad had always made it seem so easy… living off credit card scams and hustling for cash… But Dad wasn't there anymore. Hadn't been there for nearly a year now. Fuck. He couldn't believe it had been nearly a year since their Dad had left him and Sam alone to go on a hunt… and never came back. Of course he'd tried to look for their father. They had waited a month in the town their father had left them in before the money had finally run out and they'd packed up the Impala to go looking for their Dad. They'd searched the town where their father had told them the hunt was. Then they'd searched the surrounding towns. Then they'd searched the towns surrounding those towns. He'd called in every contact they knew, he'd called in every favor, but no one could give them any information on what had happened to John Winchester. It was like the man had fallen off the face of the earth…

As Dean made his way out to the Impala he felt the crushing weight of failure settle on his shoulders like the weight of the world. He was really tempted to go back into the bar and throw back a few more shots. He could definitely appreciate now why their dad had gotten lost inside of a bottle so often. But he couldn't. Sam was waiting for him. He wondered if Sam had even eaten yet tonight. He decided to stop to get some fast food before he returned to the motel.

Sam paced the length of the small motel room, hands stuffed in his pockets and body rigid as he wore holes into the deep beige carpet. It was nearly four in the morning and Dean was so, so late...

Sam worried himself into a frenzy. He knew the salt and burn wasn't a tough case, not at all for Dean, but he'd had a bad feeling about it. He hadn't wanted Dean to go. At least not alone. Sam was over fourteen now. He could take care of himself! He could watch Dean's back! He really could, and he was tired of Dean protecting him like Sam was completely incapable.

Even more than that, Sam wanted Dean to stop hunting completely. They'd had fights over this, more and more in frequency lately because Dad was gone, gone, gone, and Dean was still following the man's footsteps. Finding hunts, running all over the country, coming back from these hunts black and blue all over... Sam sighed, grabbing his hair and pulling hard in an attempt to let out some of his frustration.

Dean was a genius with cars. He could get a job in any garage, handle everything the legal way, but instead he insisted on credit card fraud and hustling pool and... god, Sam was tired of this. Sam was tired of Dad having this much hold over Dean, over them even when he hadn't been around for a good goddamn year.

Sam glanced at the clock again. The minutes going by did nothing for his worry. He knew Dean will be back, he always was, and he had called Sam and checked in, but he couldn't handle being too far apart from Dean. He couldn't. Not when Dean was all he had left. His only family. His brother.

Sam worried about Dad. So much sometimes that he felt like he'd implode. But he didn't show it to Dean. Didn't show him just how much Sam missed knowing that his Dad was out there someplace, and he'll be coming home sometime and when he was home that he won't let anything bad happen to him or Dean. He missed that. But he won't show it to Dean. No. Because he knew it will be infinitely harder for Dean to handle the responsibilities without Sam turning into a homesick teenager.

God... he missed Dad. Even the overzealous training and the fights they had and the way he dragged them everywhere, not letting them complete a school year. Okay... maybe the last part he didn't miss so much, but he missed feeling safe... and it was also true that when Dean left, Sam was left terrified that Dean wouldn't return. That he won't be back... and then what will Sam do? Who will he go to? He had no one other than Dean... no one else.

"I swear, Dean, if you're not back in the next fifteen minutes... I swear to god it's not going to be pretty," Sam whispered to himself, jaw jutting out as he continued pacing. Just as he did one more round around the room, he heard the telltale sound of the Impala pulling into the motel parking lot. Sam felt a flutter of joy, and then a wave of relief go through him. Then right on the heels of that he felt frustration about the fact that he couldn't stay angry at Dean when he was so relieved that he was back.

The door opened and Sam smelled the scent of fast food. His stomach growled loudly. He hadn't been able to eat, not when Dean was on a hunt... he never could eat while Dean was gone, and only ate enough to keep functioning. Of course, the moment Dean's back, his hunger was too. But he wasn't so hungry that he didn't notice the smell of booze and smoke clinging to Dean's clothes.

"A bar?? Really, Dean? You come from a hunt and go straight to a bar?!" Sam snapped, grabbing the food and putting it aside. He reached out, poking at one of the bruises on Dean's cheek. "She really threw you around, huh? Maybe next time you'll listen to me," Sam bitched, knowing he sounded annoying, but unable to stop.

Dean wasn’t all surprised when he pulled the Impala up outside their motel room that he saw the lights still on inside of the room despite the lateness of the hour. Even though he’d told Sam not to wait up for him and to get to bed at a decent hour tonight, he’d known his brother wouldn’t listen to him. He supposed he couldn’t really blame the younger boy. How many times had Dean himself waited up long past the time he was supposed to go to bed waiting for Dad to come back from a hunt? The older boy sighed softly as he grabbed the bag of Mc Donald’s from the seat beside him and climbed out of the car. It was going to be one of those nights.

As he’d suspected, the second he opened the door to their motel room Sam was wearing his best bitch face and snapping at him. Dean reluctantly relinquished the bag of food to the younger boy, however he frowned and knocked away Sam’s fingers prodding at the still tender bruise on his face. Dean was tired and hungry and really not in the mood to deal with Sam and his PMS tonight.

“Cut it out, Sam. Eat your dinner then go to bed. We have to leave early tomorrow.” Dean snapped back then pushed his way past the younger boy, heading for the bathroom.

It was all he could do not to point out to Sam that going to that bar had paid for the very dinner that was now sitting in the bag getting cold on the table. That it would pay for breakfast too, and lunch, and their next motel room as well. He knew that would only lead to another fight, and Dean just really wasn’t in the mood for a fight tonight.

So he made his ‘escape’ into the bathroom for a piss and a shower that he hoped would wash the stink of burnt corpses and cigarettes off of him. Maybe he would even be able to get a few hours of decent sleep tonight.

After taking care of his business, Dean stripped down and examined himself in the mirror. The bruises along the left side of his ribs were a good shade of purple by now, but he knew he hadn’t broken or cracked anything. He’d had broken ribs before, and knew the difference. The bruise along his jaw was also pretty impressive by that point, but Dean took comfort in the fact the other guy looked a whole hell of a lot worse.

Dean turned on the shower, glad that this place as cheap as it was at least had decent pressure and hot water, and got in. The water did wonders for his sore muscles and he just stood under the spray for a long time, letting himself relax. Only moving again when exhaustion began pulling at him and he knew he better finish what he started, eat, and get to bed before he fell asleep on his feet.

So he washed quickly with the cheap motel soap and shampoo. Drying off with a scratchy white towel when he was finished and wrapped it around his waist, kicking his dirty clothes into the corner of the bathroom on his way out. They would have to find a laundry mat soon. All of his clothes had already been worn at least twice and he was sure that Sam’s probably weren’t much better.

“Cut it out, Sam. Eat your dinner then go to bed. We have to leave early tomorrow.” Dean snapped and then pushed past Sam, heading to the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

Sam stood there for a moment, wondering how he could do anything to help Dean... but how was he supposed to help when Dean didn't listen to a word he said? He wouldn't let Sam come on hunts. He wouldn't let him stay in one place long enough to study and graduate and get a job. He won't let Sam take care of him after hunts. It was like Sam was incapable of doing anything at all!

And wasn't that the kicker? He'd always felt that way with Dad, and had foolishly thought that if Dad wasn't there to push them so hard, maybe Sam and Dean would live a quieter life... one with more stability. Funny how things work. Dean was just a younger John.

Sam looked at the bag of burgers he had in his hand. No doubt Dean had bought them from the money he had 'earned' from the bar. Sam's lips turned down, his stomach rolling with hunger. He knew he should eat something, but he didn't want to. Not when he could feel their relationship strung out and tense between them, even with the bathroom door in the way.

Sam put the food on the table and sat down on the bed, head in his hands.

Dean said they were leaving early tomorrow... they hadn't even been in this town long enough to consider school...

Sam wanted to graduate. He wanted to study further and get a job so he could help Dean out, so he wouldn't have to sit on the sidelines and watch as Dean hurtled headfirst into an early death. But he couldn't do any of that with Dean pulling him along from one town to another, one city to another, one state to another, day after day after day.

Once Dean came out of the bathroom, he needed to talk to him, whether Dean wanted to listen or not.

When Dean came out of the bathroom he couldn’t say he was all that surprised to see Sam not doing what he’d told him to. Sam never did what he told him to even at the best of times, and tonight his brother was obviously in a bitchy mood. Their relationship had been… strained… to say the least ever since their dad had gone missing. Hell, if Dean was being honest with himself, their relationship had been strained ever since Sam had started going through puberty and began overdosing on hormones. Things had only gotten worse since their dad had disappeared.

God damn it. He was trying his best. He was doing his best to try to find Dad. He tried to help people, taking on ‘easy’ hunts when he could, figuring he could at least attempt to be useful to other people since he was apparently a useless failure of a son for not being able to find his dad. He was doing his best to try to support his brother while doing all those other things, making sure Sam had enough to eat and a place to sleep. Though sometimes Dean had to skip a meal or two to make sure Sam ate, and sometimes they had to sleep in the Impala at a rest stop.

Apparently he was a useless failure of a brother too, considering the way Sam was sitting there on the edge of the bed looking about as miserable as anyone possibly could.

“Can you let me eat first at least before start telling me what a fuck up I am?” Dean sighed deeply as he walked past the younger boy to the table where their food was sitting and sat down heavily in the rickety chair. He dug out his, by now, lukewarm burger and cold fries from the bag and started eating.

Sam's jaw clenched tighter at Dean's words. He wondered how he was supposed to have a civil conversation with his brother when he had already been defeated without saying a word. What else was he supposed to say now? If anything other than praise or negation of Dean's low self esteem came out of his mouth right now, he'll only be affirming Dean's words.

"It's hardly about you being a fuck up, and more about you thinking me incapable of handling myself," Sam said finally. He looked at Dean, stubbornness written in every line of his body. "Next town we go to, we stop. I want to go to school. You can get a job, and I'll get a part time job and help out. But we're stopping, Dean. We're stopping and we're settling down and we're going to be safe."

Dean looked up from his meal that was suddenly even less appetizing than before, a frown marring his features and his eyes narrowing a little at his brother. Nope. Apparently Sam wasn’t going to even let him eat. Fine. Dean wadded up his burger that he had hardly taken two bites out of and got up, throwing it in the trash.

“So you want me to just stop looking for Dad, huh? You want me to stop trying to help people? Is that it?” Dean snapped back at the younger boy. Unfortunately this had been a recurring argument between them for a while now. Similar to the arguments that Sam had with their father before John Winchester had fallen off the face of the earth.

Not for the first time Dean thought that Sam was actually glad that their father was gone. Dean rubbed his hand over his face in frustration. He was just so damned tired of it all. He was tired of arguing all the time with Sam. Tired of worrying how he was going to get their next meal. Tired of dragging Sam along from town to town and seeing the disappointed look in his brother’s eyes and knowing he was doing a piss poor job in his brother’s eyes no matter how hard he tried.

“Fine, Sam. I’ll take you to Bobby’s or Pastor Jim’s, take your pick. You can stay there. Go to school. I’ll keep looking for Dad on my own.”

“So you want me to just stop looking for Dad, huh? You want me to stop trying to help people? Is that it?” Dean snapped back at Sam who stared back, eyes hard. They'd had this argument way too many times for Sam to restate his views. No, he didn't want to stop looking for Dad, but also he didn't want to spent forever looking for him and in the process miss out on his GED and a possibility for college or a proper, safe life afterwards. He didn't want to lose that for a wild goose chase.

And that might make him selfish, oh yes that might make him the most selfish son of a bitch there ever lived, but he needed it like he needed air. He needed the stability, the safety, the security in knowing that they would be taken care of. And he wanted Dean to stop hunting. He was tired of seeing Dean walk in, tired and bleeding and bruised, hunt after hunt. He was tired of wondering if this will be the hunt that Dean doesn't come back from.

He was tired. And he was terrified.

“Fine, Sam. I’ll take you to Bobby’s or Pastor Jim’s, take your pick. You can stay there. Go to school. I’ll keep looking for Dad on my own.”

That had Sam freeze for a moment, the words sinking in like lead. He stared at Dean with his mouth slightly open, betrayal and hurt making it's way to his expression before he could gather enough wits to turn that into anger.

Well, that told Sam where he ranked in his brother's list of priorities.

Without thought, Sam's eyes filled with tears that he refused to let fall. He felt very much like a child all of a sudden, wanting his big brother not to leave him, not when he had no one left, not when he had no one to go to. But under that all, wounded pride reared it's ugly head. His fists clenched by his sides as he stood up, back straight and rigid.

"I see," he said, his voice shaking a little. "I guess it's good to know I rank number four on your list of priorities. Number one, Dad. Number two, hunting. Number three, that goddamn car. Number four, ME!" He jabbed his thumb into his sternum, letting his anger out on himself. "Well then, don't let me stop you. In fact, don't even bother ditching me someplace. I'll find my own path. Hell, you'd probably be relieved! One less damned mouth to feed!" Sam snarled, turning around to grab his duffel. As soon as his back was turned to Dean, his tears flowed freely and he bit into his lip to keep any sound from escaping. He was so angry. So, so angry he couldn't see straight. But mostly he was just hurt that the first thing Dean would suggest is splitting.

Sam’s little temper tantrum finally succeeded in making Dean lose his temper. Sam could accuse him of a lot of things. Like being a lousy brother for not being able to take care of Sam like he should no matter how hard Dean tried. For being a lousy son for not being able to find any trace of their dad even after searching for a whole fucking year. But putting his brother last was certainly not one of Dean’s crimes.

“You are such a selfish ungrateful little shit!” Dean yelled, not giving a damned that it was only four in the fucking morning and the motel walls were fucking paper thin and everyone could probably hear them. Let them complain. Let them have the motel manager come and kick them out of the room. He just didn’t give a damn right now.

He was just so fucking tired of it all. Nothing he did was ever good enough for Sam. Just like nothing their dad did was ever good enough for his brother. Over the last couple of years before their Dad had gone missing, Sam acted like he hated the older man most of the time. Somewhere, somehow, Dean had hoped that maybe Sam would have put aside his rebellious teenage angst, or whatever hell grudge he had against their father, at least until they found the man. Their father could be hurt, or in trouble, or who knew, but Sam didn’t even seem to care. Instead all of the anger that Sam seemed to direct at their father, now Sam directed at him. Treating him like the fucking enemy.

Now, when Dean finally broke and agreed to try to give Sam what he said he ‘wanted’, somewhere to stay where he would be safe, go to school, where Dean wouldn’t be dragging him everywhere looking for their father... Sam just threw it back in his teeth.

“Fine! You want to try to make it on your own!?” Dean shouted, then stalked into the bathroom, grabbed his pants off the floor, and fished the wad of bills out of his pocket he’d earned tonight. Returning to the bedroom Dean slapped it down on the table. “Take that then! That should get you started! Then once that runs out you can go ahead and fucking whore yourself for your next meal like I’ve done!”

When Dean yelled, Sam jumped, turning to look at him, eyes wide and scared of Dean for the first time. He clutched the duffel bag to himself, as though that stupid flimsy bag will be enough to protect him from the onslaught of Dean's words. As Dean threw the bundle of money down, Sam felt sick. Every meal he'd ever had bought from Dean's money suddenly turned into bile in him. He felt like he could bend over right now and throw up forever and it wouldn't be enough.

He couldn't stop the tears now, they were flowing without check down his cheeks, hands still clutching the duffel bag to his chest.

He was torn. Half of him was now convinced that leaving was the best thing he could do for Dean. He couldn't stay and eat the food that Dean had to wh-who-... he wouldn't even think it. He couldn't.

The other half didn't want to leave Dean. He couldn't.

But knowing this now... what was he supposed to do? What did Dean want him do to?

He sat down on the bed almost without thought, more like his legs giving away under him.

He turned red rimmed eyes up to Dean, incapable of thinking straight anymore.

"Don't ever do that again," Sam whispered, voice stricken and cracking. "I'll find a job. I'll find a million jobs. Don't ever do that again." Sam reached out to switch the bedside lamp off, getting into bed and pulling the covers over his head. Right now he wanted to feel like he didn't exist. Maybe then he could wipe the guilt of Dean putting himself in such a position from himself.

Dean had to do that because of him. To feed Sam.

Sam vowed right then to eat a lot less, to stay quiet, and to do whatever it took to bring in some money.

It hurt, it still hurt when he saw them continuing this forever. It still hurt to imagine the day he would watch the motel room door, waiting for Dean to return but the Impala would never pull into the parking lot.

He knew that he was selfish. But he felt so incredibly sad and depressed when he thought of how him being selfish was wanting someplace safe. Him being selfish was wanting some security, an education, a good night's sleep without nightmares. That was him being selfish. And it was even more selfish to want the same for Dean.

Sam curled into himself and squeezed his eyes shut. This world confused him. Their lives confused him. Dean... Dean confused him.

The instant the words were out of his mouth Dean wished he could take them back. The instant he saw the plain naked fear in his younger brother’s eyes, the way Sam was staring at him with shocked horror, Dean suddenly felt like every evil thing he they had ever hunted in their life. He felt like a monster. The younger boy’s tears streaming down his face was like a silver knife to his heart.

What was he doing? What the fuck was he doing?!

His brother was only fourteen years old! Dean was the one who was supposed to be the fucking adult here! He was supposed to be taking care of Sam! Had he really been about to just let the younger boy walk out that door?

No, he would have stopped Sam if his brother had actually called his ‘bluff’. But what the fuck was he thinking actually saying something like that to Sam?! Actually telling his fourteen year old little brother to go out on his own and whore himself… letting Sam know that’s exactly what Dean himself had done… Dean’s stomach twisted and at the moment he was regretting eating even those few bites of that burger.

He had never wanted Sam to know about that. It had only been a few times, when money had been really tight. Like when one fake credit card had been maxed out and the new one hadn’t arrived yet. Or when they were down to their last five bucks and he simply hadn’t been able to drum up a game of pool or darts. It… hadn’t even been all that bad. Dean had done a lot worse for free/fun before… But he had still never wanted Sam to know.

The bedside light clicking off broke Dean from his paralysis. As Sam settled himself into his bed, curling up on his side away from him, Dean’s stomach twisted even more. Sure, he had ‘won’ the argument, but what the fuck had it cost them?

Almost hesitantly Dean approached the younger boy’s bed and sat down on the edge of it carefully. He slowly reached out to touch his brother, running his fingers gently through Sam’s fine soft hair as he sometimes did when they were younger and Sam woke up from a nightmare.

“I’m sorry, Sammy.” Dean whispered, barely loud enough for himself to hear. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean… I won’t do it again. Ok? I won’t…”

But he knew he would. If he had to. He would do anything for Sam. It was his job to take care of Sam, it always had been, and even more so now. Even though Dean had been doing a piss poor job of it lately… Sam hadn’t even been in school for almost a month. No matter how much Dad moved them around, he’d always managed to make sure Sam got into school. Always managed to make sure they had food and shelter, without resorting to those means and… Dean was just fucking it all up.

Maybe Sam was right. Maybe they needed to stop. Just stop, for a little while. That ghost tonight, it shouldn’t have been able to get the drop on him. But he’d been distracted, not paying attention, tired… hell, he was exhausted. Physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. He couldn’t go on like this. They couldn’t go on like this. If anything ever happened to him… he couldn’t leave his brother alone. He couldn’t let that happen…

“We’ll stop. For a little while. We’ll stop… ok?”

Dean's gentle touch only made Sam cry harder, because this was his brother. This guy who could kill things with his bare hands, but when it came to Sam he was gentle and quiet and patient. This boy who had pretty much raised him in place of an absent father, and now he was actively taking on Dad's roles. This man that Sam relied on entirely far too much, and loved him more than he thought possible.

Behind his closed eyes, his mind drudged up a shocking and filthy image of Dean standing in a dark, dirty alley, pants down his ankles and...

Sam swallowed the sob that image caused to well up in his throat, even as he felt absolutely furious both at Dean as well as every other person he might have touched for money. Dean was barely legal! If Sam could get his hands on them...

Dean's soft words made Sam turned around, looking up at Dean with wet eyes, saw the naked guilt there, and he scooted back a little, giving Dean space if he wanted to lie down.

Dean had just promised him that he wouldn't do that again, but Sam could see it in his eyes that he was still holding that open as a last resort. But Sam won't let him. No. Dean can try and try, but this time Sam's not going to let him. He'll go and wash a hundred cars or mow a thousand lawns before he let Dean do something like that again.

Sam reached out and laced his fingers through Dean's hand, his touch clumsy and awkward because they hadn't held hands since Sam was a toddler.

"I'll get a job, Dean," Sam whispered, looking into Dean's bright green eyes, unable to shake the mental image of Dean now on his knees in front of some stranger. "I don't care how bad things get, you have to tell me. I'm not a kid anymore. I can help. You've gotta let me help."

Dean's words had shaken Sam to the core, and he couldn't stop thinking about it. He wondered if he'll ever stop thinking about it. His mind screamed questions at him he didn't want answers to. How many times? What had Sam been doing then? Did he do that tonight? What all has he done? Did he sleep with guys for this too? How could he go out and do something like that?

He'll never trust another meal Dean put on the table in front of him. And of that he was sure.

Even Dean's agreement to stop for a while was a hollow victory. But it was a victory nonetheless. Sam will help out. He was always more in his element when he was in one place. He'll help and he'll take care of himself and he'll do everything he could to graduate and get a proper paying job. He'll fund Dean if he wanted to hunt, now more than ever because, dammit, Dean was never whoring himself out on Sam's watch again. Ever.

When Sam finally turned to look at him, seeing his brother’s bright tearful eyes in the dim light, the utter misery written in every line of the boy’s young face, was like a blow to his gut. He had done this to Sam… and Dean hated himself for it. He knew he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for a long time for this, if ever, but his own pain, heartache, and guilt didn’t matter right now. Right now Sammy was hurting and all Dean wanted to do was try to make it better, somehow, for his brother.

So when Sam scooted over, making room for him in the younger boy’s bed, Dean only hesitated a moment before he lifted up the edge of the covers and slid in beside his brother. Adjusting the towel around his waist as he did. Yeah, he probably should have gotten up and changed into some shorts before he did, but he didn’t want Sam to mistake that for a refusal.

“Don’t worry about that right now.” Dean whispered softly as he gathered the younger boy up in his arms and hugged his brother close.

It certainly wasn’t the first time they had slept together like this. In fact, they’d done it quite often through their lives. Motel rooms typically only came with two beds after all, so their father would usually take one and they would share the other. Though as Sam got older, their dad had tried more and more to give them separate beds, for obvious reasons. Sometimes they still had to share… though they hadn’t shared a bed though since Dad had gone missing.

Dean would never admit aloud that he’d kind of missed it. That he always slept better when Sam was right next to him, when he always knew where his brother was whether awake or asleep. When he held Sam like this he could pretend that he could keep his brother safe from everything, monsters, the whole damned world, if he only held the younger boy tight enough.

“Get some sleep, Sammy.”

Dean's words were soft, gentle as he pulled Sam close and hugged him. Sam put his head on Dean's shoulder, letting his brother's warm, damp skin soothe his fears. He threw an arm over Dean's waist and returned Dean's hug just as tightly.

It had been a while since they had slept so close to each other. Growing up had its positives and its negatives. Sam remembered a time when Dean had slept next to him every night, body warm and soft with childhood next to him. Sam had often catalogued periods of his life by the way Dean felt next to him. The time when Dean's body was soft, giving, hands tiny as he held Sam close and how Sam fit next to him. Then there were times when Dean's body was harder, the baby fat gone, and had seemed to get warmer than before. Sam remembered sweating under the blankets because Dean was like a furnace next to him. Then there was the time when Dean's body held few reminders of childhood... that period was short lived. Dean shortly began to sleep in a different bed, and Sam found a new way to track time. Two years since Dean had slept next to him.

Dean's clean scent was a surprise in itself. It was just as Sam remembered, only stronger, spicier, somewhat similar to his own.

"Get some sleep, Sammy."

Sam wiped off the remnants of his tears with the back of his hand and settled in to sleep, even though it was a long time coming, as tired as he was. His mind wouldn't stop going around in circles, providing him with more and more images of Dean in horrifying acts. Did Dean ever go with someone? Or did he do it right where he stood? How many people? How long? How many times?

Did it hurt? Did Dean cry?

Sam curled tighter against Dean's side, not even caring that his big brother was just in a towel. It wasn't anything they hadn't seen before. Living in such close quarters led to them walking in on each other more often than not.

It didn't surprise him that when he finally did manage to sleep, it was filled with images of Dean in pain, crying and trembling while a nameless, faceless hulk of a man held him down. In his dream there was Dad, finally found after the long time he was missing, and Sam was equally relieved to see he was alive and pissed off for him having been gone so long. In his dream, while Dad and him talked it out, Dean got raped in the backyard.

Sam was no stranger to nightmares, but as far as he figured, this was one was the worst one he'd ever had.

Dean was exhausted enough that he’d been able to fall asleep rather quickly despite the feelings of fear, doubt, and turmoil plaguing him regarding… well… pretty much everything. More than enough to keep him from getting any decent sleep for the rest of his life, but he knew that he wasn’t going to be any use to his brother if he was dead on his feet, so Dean forced himself to sleep. It was just one of the many tricks he’d learned from years of hunting with their father.

But another trick he’d mastered was the ability to wake up and be instantly alert in a second if there was something wrong with Sam. He just seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to knowing when his younger brother was in distress. Dean had never told Sam, but that was the reason he’d woken and climbed out of his bed that night their mother had died. He’d simply known something was wrong with his brother. Long before he’d heard his father’s shouts and baby Sam had started crying. He’d run to the nursery just in time for their father to give Sam to him and order him to take his brother outside, to keep him safe…

Which was why when the younger boy began to shift restlessly and moan softly in his sleep, Dean’s eyes snapped open. It was morning. Before noon, at least, judging by the light. Immediately he scanned the room looking for signs of danger. Finding none, he turned his attention fully to the younger boy in his arms.

His brother’s brow was furrowed and sweaty, his eyes clenched tightly, and making small almost wounded sounds that wrenched at Dean’s heart. Nightmare. Sam had plenty of them throughout his life. Often Dean’s presence alone was enough to chase away his brother’s nightmares, but apparently not tonight. Dean had little doubt in his mind that was his fault as well.

“Sammy, wake up. You’re dreaming.” Dean whispered softly, trying to coax the younger boy gently out of whatever nightmare had him in its grip. Running his fingers through the younger boy’s damp hair, brushing the sweaty strands back from his forehead.

"Sammy, wake up. You're dreaming," Dean's voice was soft and Sam stirred from his sleep, the nightmare superimposing onto real life as he thanked God that Dean was okay, he was fine and alive and okay and out of that backyard.

With a sigh Sam shifted, pushing his head into Dean's gentle hands. It had been a while since Dean and him had been this quiet, or this gentle with each other. As the last grips of the nightmare left him, Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean. He smiled a little at him, Dean's green eyes shimmering at him from so close. He had never told Dean this, but he had always been envious of his eyes. His own were a dull brown, with some green in them, but nothing as brilliant as Dean's were.

"Morning," Sam said quietly, eyes slipping closed again in early morning lethargy when they snapped back open. He remembered what Dean had told him only hours earlier... something that he hadn't meant to say ever, but he had let it out in a moment of anger and now Sam knew... he knew... and he didn't know how he was handling it. He really didn't.

At the moment, the knowledge sat like an unpleasant weight in his belly. When it got down to it, the shock and horror had abated, and in it's place were left even more determination than before.

If Sam ever had more reason to quit this life, to make something of himself, it was this.

He was going to graduate, and get a job, and he'll help Dean in every way he could so that Dean will never have to...

Pulling away from Dean he sat up, getting out of bed. He didn't know what he wanted to do, or how he was to react to Dean now when the drama of the night had fallen away, but he figured that having to piss and brush his teeth would buy him a few more precious moments.

In the bathroom, while he brushed his teeth, the image of Dean on his hands and knees with his ass in the air, came to him and Sam squeezed his eyes shut and brushed harder.

He was getting a job. He didn't care what it was. He'll pick up goddamn garbage off the streets, but he's not putting Dean in a position like that ever again. Sam spit out the excess toothpaste as he felt the conviction burn in his chest like fire.

For a moment Dean let himself relax and breathe a sigh of relief as Sam settled. As the nightmare releasing its grip on the younger boy and his brother relaxed into his touch it was nice to know that even after everything, he could do something to ease his brother’s troubled mind. Even if it was only something as simple as comforting the younger boy from bad dreams… He couldn’t help but smile a little at his brother’s sleepy reply, and for a moment Dean could even pretend that things were really ok.

But then his brother’s eyes snapped open, awake, alert, and far too knowledgeable for a boy of only fourteen years. Damn it. He supposed it really was too much to hope that his brother would just forget about last night and Dean’s unintentional confession. Sam shouldn’t even really know all the implications of that confession! He was only fourteen! Sure, Sam was smart. Hell, Sam was a fucking genius. But it wasn’t like they taught this shit in school… Dean knew he would one day regret letting his brother watch HBO when he was a kid.

Dean sighed softly as he let the younger boy slip from his arms, watching Sam as he made his way into the bathroom to take care of his morning business. He knew then that they were going to have to talk about this… no matter how much Dean might not want to. When Sam was really quiet like this it meant the younger boy was thinking, and unfortunately right now Dean knew exactly what was bouncing around in his brother’s head. He had to try to put a stop to that.

What must Sam think of him? His brother had been obviously horrified by Dean’s admission to having traded sex for money. The younger boy was probably disgusted too knowing that his older brother was a whore. Dean knew his brother had a pretty low opinion of him over the last several months, but this new revelation probably sent that opinion straight into the gutter and then some. Remembering how his younger brother had used to look up to him, made Dean’s heart ache a little…

Sighing again, Dean forced away his feelings of self pity and got up. Not bothering to retrieve the towel that had slipped off his hips sometime last night as he padded over to his duffel and began digging through it trying to find the cleanest clothes he had left. He reminded himself again that they needed to do laundry at some point today. After breakfast. Dean had been starving last night until their fight had robbed him of his appetite. Now his stomach was gnawing on his backbone.

Maybe they could talk during breakfast, then put it behind them and think about more important things. Like where they were going to hole up for a while like he’d promised Sam.

Sam left the bathroom with hunger gnawing at his stomach, but he couldn't get Dean's words out of his mind and he didn't think he'll be able to eat anything just yet. So he ignored the hunger pangs and packed up his stuff. Dean had said they were leaving today, but he had also said that he was willing to find someplace to stop and just stay for a little while.

Sam didn't know if Dean had meant to say that, or if it had been a quick way to try and get Sam to calm down, but he knew he couldn't ask. Not right now. Not when his mind felt like it would explode with the need to ask questions, but also with the need to just erase what he had been told, to just pretend last night never happened and that everything was fine. Dad was still missing, and Dean was still an ass, and Sam was still bitchy...

But he couldn't. He couldn't pretend and he couldn't forget and he definitely couldn't ignore the way his chest burned with the knowledge even as his blood ran cold. He dug through his clothes, looking for something halfway clean. He sniffed his favourite t-shirt and made a face. He wanted to wear that t-shirt today, specially when he felt like he could do with some comfort, but there was no way he would feel comforted while smelling like a sewer. Instead, he pulled out his favourite hoodie, one he'd bought from Goodwill for two dollars because of the giant hole in the pocket in front. It was a dark, olive green sweatshirt with STANFORD University written on it in bright red. The colour had faded from both, the olive green stained pale in some spots and the originally bright red was now more washed out, but it smelled clean, it was soft, and it was warm. He pulled on his usual oversized jeans - Buy them a couple of sizes larger and they last longer - and he belted it tight.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked, head down as he stuffed the rest of his clothes into the bag. His voice was quiet, blank, because he hadn't decided on what he was feeling yet. Was he sad? Yes. Upset? Yes. Angry? No... Maybe...

Yes.

What was he angry about? Sam didn't know. He knew he was just angry. And he was unimaginably sad. And he was hurt. And he was terrified.

Yes. He was just plain terrified.

When Sam finally vacated the bathroom, Dean took his place. He pissed and brushed his teeth quickly, then gathered up his dirty clothes and other things on the way out to shove haphazardly into his duffel. Dean was more than ready to get the hell out of here.

Sam was still quiet, which meant the younger boy was still thinking. The silence was bordering on uncomfortable, but he wasn’t sure how to break it yet. He wasn’t sure if he even really wanted to. Dean didn’t really want to risk saying something and getting into another argument with Sam. Which was why if they were going to talk it would be better if they did it over breakfast, in some greasy spoon diner, where they would both be more likely to hold their tempers and choose their words more carefully with ‘witnesses’ around.

Yeah, maybe that was the coward’s way out, but right now Dean would take any advantage he could get.

When Sam finally did speak, it was almost a surprise. Where were they going? He wondered if Sam meant within the next ten minutes, or if he meant where were they going to hole up for the next couple months or so? The latter Dean didn’t have a clue yet, so he decided to take the question to mean the former.

“I figured we could stop at the diner on the way out of town. I’m starving.” Dean replied with forced casualness. “Maybe hit the laundry mat too.” He added noticing the way that Sam sniffed experimentally at his clothes.

Dean grabbed the wad of bills he’d left on the table last night and shoved them back down into his pocket, like it was nothing.

Sam nodded at Dean's mention of a diner, his stomach growling, but when he saw Dean pick up the wad of bills from the table, his stomach soured and he wasn't so hungry anymore.

He grabbed his duffel and his backpack which he normally used for going to school, but lately it just carried the few paperbacks he had to his name. Without another word, he grabbed the Impala's keys and walked out. As he approached the shining black machine, he remembered his words from last night. He remembered how he had accused Dean of putting the car before him, when in reality he knew Dean would sacrifice the car a million times before he let any harm come to Sam.

It only made him feel guilty and remorseful. He wondered if they hadn't been brought up the way they had, would Dean still love him so much? Or would he have been one of those brothers who ignored the younger one in order to hang out with their friends or go on a date. He wondered if in another reality, Dean would have hated him.

In this reality, his brother had sex with people for money just to keep Sam fed.

Sam's face twisted in misery, wanting to cry but knowing that this was hardly the time. He went through all the times Dean had come home, tired and looking battered, but putting a bag of food on the table nonetheless. He thought about all the times Dean had refused to let Sam patch him up, opting instead to go do it by himself in the bathroom. He wondered how many of those times Dean had...

With a forced swallow and a quick swipe of the back of his hand, he turned to the car and unlocked the backseat. He threw the bag and duffel in there, closing the door and turning to the passenger side. He got into the car and put the keys in ignition, waiting for Dean to come and take them wherever.

He sat there and waited, and wondered. He thought of Dad, wondered about him for the millionth time. He wondered if he was dead. He wondered if he was alive and someplace, wondering what was happening to Sam and Dean...

He wondered if they ever met Dad again, if he would be happy that he wasn't an orphan, or would he be angry? Would he want to kick the man's ass, or would he want to hold him close and cry?

Right that moment, he didn't care. He just wanted Dad back. He wanted Dad around so Dean wouldn't look so lost all the time. He wanted Dad around so that Sam could relax and stop worrying about his big brother.

He just wanted Dad back.

Sam slouched in his seat, his knees banging against the dashboard. He felt absolutely miserable, and he couldn't even attempt to get out of it.

Dean watched Sam head out to the car then took a last look around the motel room. Clearing away the salt lines and making sure they didn’t forget anything. They couldn’t afford to forget anything. The last thing he grabbed was the silver knife their father had given him on his tenth birthday and he always kept underneath his pillow ever since. He always packed it last, just in case. Never knowing when he might need it, and not wanting to be without it.

After he stuffed the knife into his duffel he hefted it and headed out to the car to join his brother. Tossing his bag into the back seat along with Sam’s and he climbed into the driver’s seat. He glanced over at the younger boy slouched in the seat next to him looking about as miserable as possible and despite how uncomfortable the silence was Dean couldn’t quite bring himself to turn on the tape player once he’d started the car.

Diner.

Breakfast.

Then they’d talk, and Dean would try to make this right. Damn it. He had to make this right for Sam somehow, or else what was the point? Not for the first time Dean wished that Sam was still young enough that he could make everything better for the young boy with a hug and a kiss and a promise everything would be ok. But it wasn’t so easy anymore. But Sam wasn’t a kid anymore. If nothing else last night had proved that much.

They reached the diner and went inside, finding a booth in the back where Dean could keep an eye on the rest of the diner in case there was trouble, just like Dad had taught him. When the waitress came over he ordered a coffee, black, and the special: pancakes, eggs, and a side of bacon.

“What can I get for you, sweetie?” The waitress asked Sam after she took down Dean’s order.

Sam followed Dean wherever he went, lost in his thoughts and mostly just questioning everything. It was amazing what a shocking piece of news could do to your perspective. When they had decided that Dad really was missing, suddenly the entire world had gone huge, too many hiding places, too many dark corners, too many threats. And now... now everything felt unsafe again.

They took a booth in the back of the diner, Dean facing the door to keep an eye on the entire place while Sam sulked in the opposite seat. The waitress asking him for his order shook him out of his reverie and he forced himself to focus.

"Umm... nothing for me, thanks," Sam said softly, giving her a customary smile but nothing close to what he was capable of. Normally he'd make the effort to be nice to her, but right now she didn't seem to matter. Nothing mattered.

Sam's big brother had been getting hurt right under his nose... hell, he had been going and seeking all this out just to keep Sam fed. Really, this nice waitress with the warm smile and bright eyes mattered so little to him right now that it was almost scary. Sometimes Sam scared himself, but right now he wasn't going to think too hard about his reactions.

It was either he get angry, or he curl into a ball and cry. And he was done crying. He was done being the baby that Dean had to take care of.

Dean frowned in displeasure when Sam didn’t order anything to eat. There was no way in hell the younger boy wasn’t hungry. He’d been listening to his brother’s stomach growling all damned morning. Well, fuck that. Whatever this was, whatever angst Sam was stewing in right now, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let his brother starve himself.

“Bring him a special too and an orange juice to go with it, please.” Dean asked the waitress, giving her his most charming smile. She raised an eyebrow but nodded in understanding, jotting the order down before she left. The smile slipped off his face, instantly replaced with a frown, as soon as he turned his attention back to the younger boy.

“What the hell, Sam? Now you’re on some kind of god damn hunger strike?” Dean asked, equal measures of worry and annoyance coloring his voice. Then the older boy sighed and ran his fingers through his hair and over his face. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, watching the younger boy intently.

“Look. I said I was sorry last night and I meant it, ok? I never should have said that to you. I know I haven’t been doing the best job taking care of you like I should, but I’m trying, Sammy. I’ll do better from now on, but you gotta give me a break here.”

Dean ordered for him. Of course he did. He wouldn't be annoying big brother if he didn't. But Sam had no intention of eating it. Sam listened to Dean without thought, his mind already having been made up.

"I am giving you a break," Sam said quietly, looking into Dean's green, green eyes. "I'm not mad at you..." Sam shrugged a little, "Okay maybe I am, but nothing big. Nothing I can't get past. This isn't about getting back at you. I'm just not hungry," Sam looked up at the waitress giving their orders to the cook on the other side of the counter. "That's wasted money, Dean. Last time I checked, we didn't have too much of that."

Sam knew he was being bitchy, but he couldn't help it right now. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but he felt like lashing out, like he wanted to jump up and nuke the goddamn place.

He just opted for breathing deeply and trying to calm down.

Dean's frown deepened, and he found his temper flaring a little at his brother, but he held it in check. The last thing Dean really wanted right now was this to dissolve into another argument between them. Their relationship was already strained nearly to its breaking point. He certainly didn't want to do or say anything to make it irreparable... even though he sometimes feared they were already past that point.

"Its only wasted money if you don't eat, and don't give me that bullshit Sam. I can hear your stomach from over here." Dean replied, a bit of his annoyance leaking through in spite of himself. Sam just seemed to have a knack for pushing his buttons lately. The same way Sam used to push Dad's buttons, and Dean had been forced to play referee between them. There wasn't anyone to do that for him and Sam.

Sam admitted he was mad at him but nothing big? Well, that was fairly normal, especially lately. So if Sam wasn't pissed off at him then what was he? Disgusted? Because of what Dean had done? He supposed he couldn't really blame the younger boy, but it still stung more than a little. So what? Did Sam think he'd earned the wad of cash in his pocket on his knees sucking cock or whatever? He didn't want to eat anything bought with the 'dirty' money earned from his whoring brother?

The waitress soon returned with their food along with his coffee and Sam's orange juice. One great thing about places like this, they had quick service. Dean waited for her to leave then picked up his silverware and started in on his plate.

"I won the cash playing pool, Sam. I haven't had to do... that... for a while now. Not a fucking big deal anyway. So relax and eat your damned breakfast."

Sam could see how his not eating breakfast was being interpreted, but he couldn't care less at the moment. His misery from earlier started morphing when Dean started ordering him to do shit. Eat your breakfast Sam, whether you want to or not, because I said so!

Well, Sam never could take orders well.

He looked down at the food, the eggs and bacon looking very attractive, but he wouldn't eat.

And when Dean mentioned that the money came from playing pool... well, it didn't make Sam feel any better. He looked up at Dean, his jaw jutting out slightly in that stubborn expression he wore most easily.

"I said I'm not hungry," Sam answered back. "You ordered for me, you finish it. I'll wait for you outside." With that he grabbed the glass of orange juice, downing just that to calm his groaning stomach and started sliding out of the booth.

Just like that, hurt transformed into anger, and Dean's patience snapped. Before Sam could even get out of the booth, Dean threw down his silverware onto his plate with a loud clatter. Making several people look in their direction, including their waitress, but he didn't give a damn right now.

"Fine. Have it your way, Sam." Dean snapped.

If Sam wanted to punish him, punish them both, if that would make him happy, then Dean would only help him along. They could both starve. Without so much as touching his coffee Dean got up from the booth, dug out a few bills for the meal and a healthy tip for the waitress' trouble, and threw them down on the table.

"Lets go." The older boy all but growled, stalking past Sam to the diner door and outside. Not even looking over his shoulder once to see if his brother was following him. Dean got into his car and started the ignition, grabbing one of his tapes he knew the younger boy hated, and shoving it in the deck.

Dean sudden anger got the same reaction out of Sam as it had last night. He jumped, surprised by the sudden hostility. Normally when they fought, they kept arguing back and forth without dissolving into heated arguments or screaming unless it went on too long. But since last night...

Sam looked down at his food, and then Dean's half eaten one. Dean had been really hungry, and now he had walked away. With a sigh Sam called their waitress, asking her if she minded getting the food 'to go' and then carried both containers, complete with plastic forks and knives to the car. He put the coffee in the styrofoam cup down into the cup holder before putting the box containing Dean's breakfast in the seat between them.

With the sort of fight they were having, now Sam's appetite really was gone, but he opened his container and dug into the quickly cooling eggs. He took two big purposeful bites before stuffing an entire bacon into his mouth.

Grinning as he opened his mouth to show Dean the half chewed mess. Sam didn't really feel like being this candid with his brother, but he figured he had to make an effort to get things back to normal, even though he really, really didn't feel like eating. Not when Dean's words from last night kept repeating in his head.

"Truce?" He asked, forcing down another bite before closing the container. He'd eaten enough. He could eat the rest for lunch or something.

When Sam finally came out of the diner and got into the car, the smell of the food in the Styrofoam containers really only pissed him off more. So did his younger brother’s offer of a ‘truce’ for that matter. The little shit had refused to eat anything in the damned diner like a spoiled two year old throwing a temper tantrum, and now Sam decided to humor him? His brother barely swallowed a few mouthfuls before setting the container aside.

Instead of answering the younger boy, Dean merely started the ignition and pulled the car out of the diner parking lot a little more aggressively than he would have if he wasn’t pissed off at Sam. But he refused to say anything, refused to even look at his brother. Maybe afraid if he did he would say something he would regret.

Again.

He didn’t know why Sam was being purposefully so damned difficult. Sure, Sam was a teenager, and his little brother, and between the two that pretty much meant making his older brother’s life difficult was Sam’s reason for living. But there was a difference between fighting over the remote when they both wanted to watch something different on TV, or stealing his last pair of clean socks, and refusing to fucking eat!

It was already hard as hell trying to take care of Sam on his own with Dad gone. Taking care of Sam had become a full time job for Dean. Not that it hadn’t always been a full time job to Dean, but it was different now. It was harder, and he was doing his best, damn it. But now Sam seemed intent to make taking care of him impossible by fucking not eating even when Dean could put food on the damned table.

They came to the small town’s laundry mat and Dean pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car without really looking at his brother. He grabbed both their duffels from the back seat and went inside. Sam could come inside or stay in the fucking car. Dean didn’t really care right now.

The laundry mat was pretty much empty, which meant that he could use as many damn washers as he wanted, and that’s exactly what he did. He stuffed their dirty clothes into several different machines, turned them on, and then went to sit and wait. Once the clothes were done they could finally get out of this fucking town. Not a moment too soon, in Dean’s opinion.

Sam's attempts at getting things back to normal blew up on his face as Dean's expression darkened. Dean didn't say anything, but Sam knew his offer of a truce had just been thrown back at him. Dean pulled out of the parking spot a little too aggressively but Sam kept his mouth shut, even as his hand gripped the door handle to keep from jostling too much.

They pulled into a laundromat and Dean got out of the car, grabbing both their duffels and pretty much marched into the laundromat.

Sam sat there in the sudden silence of the car, staring at the large glass windows of the laundromat. He could see Dean working briskly at putting all the clothes into the machines, feeding them quarters, and then starting them up before he sat down on a nearby bench. Sam kept sitting there, watching Dean's profile. At first he felt miserable, feeling incredibly unwanted after he had even attempted to set things straight, but the longer he sat there, with his hand still gripping the door handle tightly, he started getting angry.

The fact that the laundromat was nearly empty only helped lower his inhibitions more.

He finally got out of the car, heading to the laundromat with his fists clenched. He went to stand in front of Dean, not knowing what he wanted to say but he was definitely about to say something.

"Last night you told me you've..." Sam's lips thinned, incapable of saying it, "... for food. To feed me. That you did that to feed me. So what am I supposed to do? Huh, Dean? Am I supposed to smile and go like 'oh gee, Dean! Thank you so very much!'?" Sam rubbed his face with his hands. "Or maybe you want me to completely forget about it? Huh? Do you want me to do that?"

Sam reached up to pull at his hair out of frustration. "I can't forget it! I can't! And I can't process it! And I can't... It's... I just..." If I wasn't such a whiny shit, if I didn't eat so much, if I didn't insist on studying, if I didn't exist you wouldn't have had to do that. Sam breathed deeply. "I can't process it yet. I'm trying, dude, I even offered you a truce. I tried to get things normal, but instead you acted like I had insulted you. So what am I supposed to do? If I don't eat I piss you off, and if I do eat I still piss you off. And sometimes, Dean, I'm just not goddamn hungry." Sam finished, leaning back so that his back was resting against the wall. He crossed his arms and waited for the attack Dean was no doubt about to unleash on him.

Dean heard the door to the laundry mat open and knew it was Sam without even looking up. He had almost hoped Sam would just stay in the fucking car stewing and give them both some much needed time to cool off. Of course, no such luck. Instead his brother stalked right up to him, stood in front of him with his hands clenched and anger written in every line of his young face.

Anger and disgust, all directed at him.

Hell, Sam couldn’t even say it. Sam’s words were kind of like being kicked in the nuts when he was already laying there bleeding on the ground. But Dean refused to let the younger boy see how much Sam’s new opinion of him wounded him.

He met his brother’s gaze evenly, even though a part of him wished he could just find a hole to crawl in. Dean hadn’t felt this ashamed of what he’d done, even when he’d been there in that back alley on his knees…

When Sam ended his little tirade with his insistence that he really hadn’t been hungry, which they both knew was bullshit, Dean stood up. Using what little height advantage he still had left over the younger boy to crowd into Sam’s personal space, but he didn’t shout. In fact, when he did speak, his voice was eerily calm.

“Yes, I want you to forget about it. I had sex and I got paid for it. So what? Big deal. Stop making it into one. No, you don’t have to like it. If you want to be disgusted by me, because of what I did, that’s you’re choice. I did what I had to, and I’m not sorry about it.”

That much was true. He wasn’t sorry for doing what he had to, to take care of his brother. The only thing he was really sorry about was that Sam now knew and apparently irreparably damaged Sam’s opinion of him.

“You don’t want to eat food earned by a whore? Fine, throw it away, but don’t bother insulting me by humoring me.”

Sam exploded when Dean used to word 'whore'.

"Don't ever call yourself that!" Sam yelled, not even caring that he had just lost all control on his emotions. "Don't you ever, EVER call yourself that!" Sam clenched his teeth, body pretty much trembling now. "And I was not humoring you! You wanted me to eat, so I ate. What more do you want?! Do you want me to want to eat? Huh? Well I can't make myself want anything. I can do what you tell me to, or I can do what I want to do. And I didn't want to eat, but you wanted me to, so I ate. Okay? I ate the food you wanted me to eat and somehow THAT WAS WRONG TOO!" His words ended in a shout, and in an attempt to control himself, he turned around, breaking eye contact with his brother as he concentrated on breathing.

"You might want me to forget it, but I can't forget shit like that. It will take me a while to learn to live with it, but don't expect me to just be happy and glad and fine with everything less than twelve hours after having this bomb thrown on me." Sam turned around pointing an accusing finger at Dean. "And let's discuss your motivation behind telling me that. Okay? You told me that to make me feel guilty. You might not have done it intentionally, but that's what you wanted. So guess what? I'm guilty. I'm so fucking guilty, man, that I can't..." Sam swallowed heavily, voice wavering. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Sam slid down to the ground, pressing his palms into his eyes to try and calm down but he couldn't. "I'm so sorry... I'm sorry, Dean, I'm sorry... I'm sorry," he kept whispering, doing all he could to not cry but tears came to his eyes anyway.

Dean knew they were making a scene but that was the least of his worries right now. He honestly didn’t care what anyone might think, his only concern was for his brother who was obviously hurting and once again it was all Dean’s fault.

The only problem was, Dean didn’t know how to undo that hurt. Sam was right. No matter what he said, he couldn’t make Sam forget, and he was just beginning to realize there wasn’t anything he could say to make it better either. He honestly didn’t know what to say to Sam anymore. There probably wasn’t anything he could say to make this right, no matter how much Dean wished there was.

When Sam slid to the ground, Dean went with him. Kneeling in front of the younger boy he took his brother’s shoulders in his hands, like he wanted to hug Sam but he wasn’t sure if he should. The way his brother’s voice wavered, broke, the tears he heard in the younger boy’s choked whispers as Sam apologized to him broke his heart.

“Sammy, listen to me.” Dean whispered softly, taking Sam’s hands in his own and pulling them away from the younger boy’s face so his brother would look at him. So he could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“You don’t have anything to be guilty for. It wasn’t your fault. It was my decision, and it was a dumb one, I admit that. I didn’t tell you to make you feel guilty or to hurt you.” Dean said gently, reaching out to touch his brother’s cheek, wiping away the younger boy’s tears. Feeling his own burn in his eyes at the sight but he refused to let them fall.

“I never wanted you to know, and I sure as hell never wanted you to feel guilty because of it. I admit it I still wish you didn’t know, because of that. I’m sorry… Last night I was stupid, drunk, not thinking as usual, and… I was afraid. I was afraid of you walking out that door and something like that, or worse, happening to you…”

Dean's hands on his made some of Sam's panic and sadness retreat. Dean's eyes were sincere, his words soft and gentle and Sam knew that Dean meant it. He hadn't meant to make Sam feel guilty, but Sam had reacted that way anyway and the guilt had been immense. Knowing that it was for him that Dean had to go so low... it was a burden he hadn't been aware he was even holding over his head.

But now, with Dean so close and warm, he felt it lift. He'd barely carried it for a night and already he felt like he was bending under the weight of it. He couldn't imagine how Dean got through carrying the burden of Sam's responsibility on his head.

"I really wasn't going to leave," Sam confessed, giving him a watery grin. "At best, I was going to go to the coffee shop, wait for a few hours and come back." Sam leaned forward, resting his forehead on Dean's shoulder. "I'm a bitch like that," Sam said, still grinning as he used Dean's favourite term for him. "I know you'd come running the minute I left. I was counting on that."

Sam pulled back a little to look at Dean, sticking his tongue out in a childish gesture he didn't remember doing for a long time.

Feeling Sam relax under his hands made some of the tightness in his chest ease, and Dean couldn’t deny the relief he felt when his brother admitted that he wasn’t really going to leave. The idea of his fourteen year old little brother out there alone frankly terrified him.

The thought of something happening to him and Sam being left all alone was a fear right up there with finding their father dead. No, Sam wasn’t naïve. In fact his brother was too damned smart for his own good, and the younger boy could certainly take care of himself, defend himself, better than most boys his age. But that didn’t mean something bad, really bad, couldn’t happen.

Dean snorted softly when Sam said he probably would have run out after the younger boy the minute he left. Well, Sam was wrong about that. Dean wouldn’t have even let his brother get out the door even if he had to tackle him and tie the younger boy down.

“Bitch.” Dean muttered affectionately, running his fingers through the soft hair near the back of his brother’s neck when the younger boy leaned against his shoulder. When Sam pulled away and stuck out his tongue, Dean merely rolled his eyes, and shifted so that he was sitting next to his brother on the floor. Then he wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulders and tucked his brother into his side.

He was almost surprised that Sam still fit there so well, since the way his brother had been growing like a weed lately, it seemed the younger boy gained an inch on him every time he turned around. It wouldn’t be too much longer before Sam shot straight past him.

“Don’t think this is getting you out of folding clothes.”

As Dean pulled Sam into his side, tucking him perfectly like Sam was still a kid who hitched a ride on Dean's hip. Sam let him pull him close, even going as far as to wrap an arm around Dean's chest and let himself be held. Dean's scent was strong here, and Sam smiled softly, tightening his grip even more and enjoying the close contact.

This little session hadn't erased Sam's fears or his guilt entirely, but it had helped reduce some of the nerves he had been feeling. Then of course Dean had to ruin the moment by mentioning the folding. Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. "Fine, but I get to choose what we have for dinner," Sam said as he curled further into Dean's side. They had been fighting so much lately that having a chance to hold Dean close made him almost starved for the affection. Before Dad had got missing, Dean had been very affectionate with Sam, almost making up for the lack of affection Sam got from Dad... but ever since last year, Dean had been so caught up in trying to take care of Sam, that he hadn't been very comforting. It wasn't anything Sam held against him, he understood, but it was still nice to be held.

There were a few moments of silence before Sam broke it.

"Dean?" He asked softly, not looking up at him. He had his head resting on Dean's shoulder, fingers playing with a loose thread on Dean's shirt. "Do you think Dad's alright?"

He knew it was a stupid question. Dean couldn't possibly know. But he had to ask nevertheless. He wanted the confirmation that yes, Dad was alright. That he'll be back. That Dad wasn't dead and already decayed and long gone. Sam closed his eyes and tried to pretend that Dad was just in the car, waiting for them while they did laundry.

Instead of making him feel better, Sam only missed him more.

“Deal.” Dean laughed softly at Sam’s reply and gave his brother’s shoulders a little squeeze. The younger boy could have whatever the hell he wanted for dinner as far as he was concerned, even if it was steaks and lobster, or something. He didn’t really care as long as Sam ate. He hated the fact that Sam felt it was his fault and felt so guilty over what Dean had done that he couldn’t eat the food Dean bought him…

It was nice just sitting here with Sam like this. It almost felt like things were back to normal between them. He knew it was just an illusion. They had a long way to go before things were going to be even remotely normal again, but it was a nice illusion all the same.

Then Sam asked about Dad… pretty much shattering the illusion.

They didn’t really talk about Dad too much lately. Sometimes it was just easier pretending that Dad was just on a real long hunting trip, out of touch like the man sometimes got, and would be back any day now. It was easier to think that than the more likely answer. Rather than thinking that their father was just… gone… dead… never coming back…

“We’ll fine him, Sammy.” Dean finally answered. It wasn’t the answer Sam was looking for, he knew, but it was the only one that Dean could give him without feeling like he was lying to his brother.

Sam nodded at Dean's answer, recognizing it for what it was. It was Dean's attempt to not lie to him, and Sam appreciated that even if it made him sad. He pulled away, getting to his feet when the machines gave a one last spin and stopped.

Sam sighed and shut down his thoughts regarding Dad. Sometimes when he thought of him, Sam's chest burned with anger. How could Dad leave us like this? How could he walk away? Leaving Dean, who's still just a kid in very many ways, to take care a younger brother in a world Dad knows to be extremely dangerous? And then other times, it made his gut clench in fear and anxiety and sadness. What if he's dead? What if he died a year ago and something tore him apart and we couldn't even say goodbye? And now we're all alone? What if there IS no one to find anymore?

He lost himself in the monotonous work of folding the clothes as he pulled them out of the machines. He worked quickly, efficiently. All the t-shirts and jeans got folded, buy the boxers were thrown haphazardly into a pile deemed 'Sam's' and 'Dean's'. He took a moment to breathe in the scent of freshly washed, warm clothes before putting the clothes in the respective duffels, he dumped the pile of boxers in there and zipped them up.

They didn't talk as they got back in the car and Dean started driving, but Sam ate his breakfast leftovers and didn't even mind the fact that the eggs had gone cold and that the bacon tasted strange now that it wasn't hot and crispy.

He spent some of the ride asleep, the rumble of the engine lulling him into an intoxicated daze where he wasn't entirely asleep but he wasn't awake either. His eyes were open half mast, staring out of the window at the passing scenery. Sometimes when they passed through fields, he'd think of something random like him and Dean running through it as kids. Or how he glimpsed a swing set and thought of that one house Dad had rented for about six months when they were little. All he remembered was the battered swing in the backyard that Dean had told him not to go on till he fixed it, but he had gone on there and skinned his knees.

Just random memories, random thoughts, and mostly he thought about how happy he had felt in that small moment when Dean had pulled him close. In between the apologies and the thoughts of Dad, there had been one tiny moment where everything had been perfect.

"Where are we gonna stop?" Sam asked quietly, comfortable in his headspace. He wondered where they would be living for the next little while. Maybe even as long as a year. He hoped it was someplace warm, but he didn't care when it came down to it. He'd take anywhere.

He turned to look at Dean, admiring his profile. Dean was a very goodlooking guy, anyone with eyes could tell you that, and Sam quietly envied Dean for his perfect nose and his lack of moles that Sam himself had inherited. Well... he took comfort in the fact that he was almost guaranteed to grow taller than Dean.

When the dryers stopped Dean let Sam slide out from under his arm, missing the warmth of the younger boy at his side almost immediately. Funny how he wished that the clothes had taken just a bit longer to finish just so they could stay like this for a little while longer. Quiet, almost relaxed, lost in the moment... just enjoying each other’s company. Maybe Sam was right. They really did need to stop for a while. If only to remind themselves what the hell living felt like and that moments like this still existed. That it could still be good, between them, that they were still a family even though it was just the two of them now and not just one fight after another, one hunt after another, one town after another, one disappointment after another when they didn’t find the father they were so desperately searching for...

Dean got up off the floor, brushed his jeans off, and helped Sam carry the full duffels back out to the car when the younger boy was done folding their clothes. They stayed quiet, but it was a comfortable silence now. Dean kept the music low, almost not wanting to disturb it. Though he hummed a little under his breath to the music as he drove. Glancing over at his brother every once in a while with a smile while the younger boy dozed.

They were on the road for maybe two and a half hours before Sam finally spoke again, asking where they were going to stop. Honestly, Dean didn’t know. He hadn’t had a direction in mind when he’d started driving. He figured it didn’t really matter where they ended up, they’d lived in enough places during their lives that one town seemed pretty much the same as the other after a while.

But he wanted Sam to be happy with where they stopped, he knew Sam would want a good school, and his brother would want to make friends. If they were going to be staying in one place for a while, then Dean needed to be able to find a real job, so the town couldn’t be too small. Hustling and credit card scams were just too damned risky when staying in one place for too long. If they were lucky, maybe they could even find a house they could rent cheap for a while. One year dad had managed to find someone in the middle of renovating an old home, and they had been able to live there rent free while they did work on the house. That would be just about perfect for him and Sam now, but who knew if they’d find anything like that. Maybe check the local papers when they decided on a general area.

“Dunno yet. Got anyplace in particular you wanna go?”

Sam smiled, letting his sleepy state lure him into daydreams. He imagined where he'd want to live. He let his mind wander, going through towns after towns that they had visited. Some they had stayed in for a long time, others they had barely stayed for a week.

He shrugged. "Someplace warm," Sam said, shifting to look at Dean better. "I don't care, really. Just want someplace stable for a little while." He kept looking at Dean for a few moments longer, remembering the comfort they had shared in the laundromat. For a moment he was overcome with the need to recreate it, and he wondered if he was to lean down right now and put his head on Dean's shoulder, if he would mind...

Saying fuck it to the Dean in his head, Sam shuffled back towards the door before lying down, putting his head on Dean's lap and curling into a fetal position so that his legs could be accommodated. He wasn't too comfortable, but Dean's strong legs under his head were warm and Sam let himself enjoy it. Dad usually didn't like them being too affectionate with each other. He didn't like Sam being too dependent on Dean, looking for little touches and needing Dean's approval. But Dad wasn't here right now and Sam figured that if he didn't want Sam being affectionate towards Dean, then he better get back here and say it in person.

For now, Sam was just gonna curl up and slip back into sleep, trusting Dean to take them wherever he felt was right.

Dean couldn’t help but smile a little at his brother’s reply. No, Sam had never been very fond of cold weather. Dean didn’t really mind the cold himself, but a warmer climate sounded pretty good to him too, so why not? Let’s see… they were Utah right now… Arizona? New Mexico? Nah, too damned hot during the summer, there was ‘warm’ and then there was sweat your balls off in 105 degrees in the shade. Texas wasn’t much for that matter, though it wasn’t too bad on the Gulf… or there was always Southern California. It had been a long time since they passed through that area, but it was pretty nice from what Dean remembered. What the hell. Why not?

As Dean was considering the best route to take to their possible destination, he was pulled out of his thoughts when Sam shifted around in the seat to rest his head practically in his lap. As he looked down at the younger boy Dean couldn’t deny he was surprised, but his little brother looked so damned content and comfortable… though Dean almost wasn’t sure how that was possible, Sam wasn’t nearly as little as he used to be… but he just couldn’t bring himself to ask Sam to move.

So instead Dean let one of his hands slip off of the steering wheel to pet through the younger boy’s soft hair. Whispering, “Sure thing, Sammy. Warm climate it is.”

Dean's soft words made Sam smile, and he fell asleep to the feel of Dean's hands petting his hair. Just yesterday, at this hour they had been fighting, just short of screaming at each other, and now Sam felt so content...

He felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him. Dean was his big brother, and he loved that stupid ass even when he was being a jerk most of the time. He didn't even know how, but he never wanted Dean to get hurt again, in any way. He thought of all the things he could do. He'll go for a degree, maybe get into a college or university. Get a good high paying job. He'll take care of Dean then. He'll give Dean everything. The biggest house, all the classic cars Dean could want, all the bad 80s music he could ever ask for.

Sam's smile widened.

He'll give Dean whatever he wanted. He just needed a few years. A few more years and he'll take care of Dean for once.

He'll take care of him the way Dean had always taken care of Sam. The way Dean deserved to be cared for. The way their father never had.

This time when Sam thought of their Dad, it was out of anger. If the man had just let bygones be bygones and stopped his pointless quest to find the demon, he'd still be here... he'd be their father, and they would be a family. Right now, Sam was almost glad he was gone, because now he had Dean all to himself, and Dad couldn't say a word if Sam turned his head a little and let himself bury his face in Dean's stomach as he drove. Dad wasn't here, so Sam will do that, because Dean didn't push him away, and Sam liked Dean.

He had the best big brother in the world.