It had taken them two days to drive from where they'd been in the middle of nowhere in Utah to southern California. All things considered it had been a pretty decent trip. Things between him and Sam had been good. Better than they had been in a while.

They didn't argue... well, any more than normal brothers picking on each other normally did anyway. Like when he drove with the windows down, singing loudly and off key to his favorite Metallica tapes, much to his little brother's annoyance. Or when Sam stole fries off his plate during dinner and Dean had retaliated by squirting the younger boy with ketchup, which of course got him squirted with the mustard, and they'd finally ended up getting kicked out of the place for starting a massive food fight. Dean had laughed like an idiot for a good ten miles down the road after that. Dean had wanted to stop in Las Vagas on the way, but of course Sam wouldn't let him. He'd called his brother a bitch, and Sam had called him a jerk, and for once it seemed all was right with the world.

It had felt good to horse around with his brother again. Damned good.

When they finally rolled into "Winchester" California, Dean had found it so damned funny that he'd announced this was where they were stopping.

Sam had always wanted to run away, but never from Dean. In fact, when he had fantasized about it, he had always imagined walking up to Dean and saying 'come away with me' and Dean would come, and then they would travel and live together and have fun and be brothers like they weren't allowed to be.

Funny enough, the last few days had been really close to that fantasy. He'd played pranks on Dean, fallen for the retaliations his brother then cooked up, gone to sleep in the car with his head on Dean's shoulder, or watching crappy movies in crappier motel rooms until they both fell asleep to the sounds of bad acting. It had been more fun than they'd had in a while.

Sam figured that maybe there was some truth to the whole 'it's darkest right before dawn' thing. When Dean had blurted out all the things he'd had to do to keep Sam fed, Sam had wondered if their relationship would ever work out. Instead, the massive purging they had done barely twelve hours later had helped get the resentments and anger out of their systems, and it had been easy going since then.

When Dean announced that they were stopping in 'Winchester, California' Sam laughed out loud. Sam grinned all the way to the motel they were going to stay at until they found a new place to live. Sam immediately got to researching the town. He found the school he would be enrolling in, found a small apartment, a tiny one bedroom that was in dire need of renovations but the owner was renting it out dirt cheap. Sam had figured that when you switch the lights off, it didn't matter how messy it was. A few stains on the walls didn't bug him. For one, there were no cockroaches or rats, the windows were all intact, the water pressure was decent, and even if there was no heating, he doubted they were need it so badly in California.

Over the next few weeks, Sam found a job. It wasn't much... he was just supposed to do a paper route every morning for a local newspaper company, but every route earned him a decent fifteen bucks and that helped him contribute almost a hundred bucks a week to their budget, specially since he had also taken the weekend routes.

He liked it here, even if life was sometimes hard, but they were getting through it. He was even starting to make friends at school, even if his less than preppy clothes got him shunned into the 'outcast' clique. Sam hardly cared. He found that the 'outcast' kids had a ton of personality and he became good friends with them. He just wondered how Dean was holding up, considering they didn't talk much about their feelings unless something really major had gone wrong.

As it turned out, Winchester CA wasn’t all that bad. It was the typical suburban ‘city’ area surrounded by farms and shit. About two thousand residents, not a large population but not so small to have everyone in their business. It had a ‘downtown’ stopping area with plenty of family run shops and restaurants that served home cooked meals. All in all, it was a fairly nice area. Nice weather. Nice people. About the perfect place for them to stop and rest for a little while.

Dean didn’t believe in fate or crap like that. ‘Fate’ was normally a bitch that liked to kick him in the nuts, after all. But he had to wonder if it wasn’t some kind of sign that they’d made the right choice stopping here. Especially when Sam managed to find them a cheap apartment to rent only a few days after they’d arrived.

It wasn’t much. In fact, the apartment needed quite a bit of fixing up, which was probably why they’d gotten it so cheap in the first place. But it was pest free, and furnished. Well, mostly furnished. It had a bed, a couch, an old television, and even a few pots and pans left in the kitchen from the last occupant. Sometimes they shared the bed in the bedroom and sometimes Dean took the couch.

There were a few water stains on the ceilings and a hole or two in walls, but it wasn’t cockroach or flea infested, and that made it better than about half of the motels they’d stayed in over the last year. It was also within walking distance to the school that Sam had decided he wanted to go to. Sam seemed happy enough with it, so it was certainly good enough for Dean.

His brother had even managed to get himself a job delivering papers. Even though Dean had told Sam repeatedly that he didn’t have to, he should be concentrating on school, not working. But his brother had insisted and Dean wasn’t really ready to break the truce they’d found since coming here, so Dean had finally relented. Dean had to admit, a little bit of extra cash certainly didn’t hurt.

Dean had managed to find a job for himself too. Just bagging groceries and stocking shelves down at the local supermarket, not much, but it paid the rent and they got a discount on food. The manager seemed to like him at least, and let him take on an extra shift pretty much whenever he wanted. Ok, so it definitely wasn’t his dream job. But the simple fact was Dean was probably lucky he’d even gotten that. Considering he didn’t even have a high school diploma, having dropped out last year when their father had gone missing.

If he started getting that edgy feeling he normally got when they stayed in one place for too long without a hunt, Dean certainly didn’t say anything to his brother. Sam seemed happy, content, and he certainly didn’t want to ruin that. He’d promised Sam they would stop and rest, so they would stop. Dean could do that, for Sam. If he started scanning the local papers, looking for strange deaths or other signs of their kind of ‘jobs’ he certainly didn’t tell his brother that either.

Maybe he should have… then his brother wouldn’t have been so surprised when Dean came home late one night with three long claw marks down his back from his shoulder to nearly his kidney.

Sam had been busy lately, what with getting up early in the morning to run paper routes and then right after rushing to school. He joined a couple of extracurricular activities, realizing that he was surprisingly good at soccer. The after school practices helped Sam get incorporated into the high school hierarchy more easily than he had ever thought possible.

When he got home, usually he was tired and sore from the soccer practice, and ready to get down to business and do his homework. He blamed his highly busy schedule, which was technically his own fault, for not noticing that Dean was getting antsy.

And he would definitely never forgive himself for not noticing that Dean was gone an entire day, the duffel bag filled with weapons missing. But when the clock struck twelve and Sam closed his book, he noticed that Dean hadn't returned from work. Frowning, he called Dean's cell and got no answer. As Sam began the first vestiges of fear grip him, he noticed that it was getting closer to one.

By the time it was nearly three in the morning, Sam was nearly driven to tears. He sat there on the couch with the spring poking out of the material with his head in his hands, eyes riveted to the cell phone's screen, begging silently for Dean to call him. After leaving him a dozen messages, Sam kept hoping and hoping for one word from Dean. He couldn't help but remember how this is exactly how Dad had disappeared. How he went for a hunt and then they never saw him again.

Sam imagined being left here alone, Dean gone just like Dad, and he could barely contain the wave of grief and Idunwanna that washed over him.

When he heard the Impala's familiar rumble, Sam's misery lifted. He stood up, rushing to a window to see Dean get out of the car. He felt relief so strong slam into him that he felt like he couldn't hold himself up. Letting out a breath as he turned around and leaned back against the wall, that relief quickly turned to anger.

The door opened and Sam was ready to rip into Dean for scaring him so badly, but then he saw the blood, the shredded clothes barely clinging to Dean's back and Sam just knew. Sam knew that Dean had gone on a hunt.

Pushing his anger aside for the moment, Sam went to Dean's side and gingerly started removing the strips of cloth sticking to his back. "You went hunting," Sam stated, his words not a question. "Go into the bedroom. I'll stitch you up," Sam said as he grabbed the first aid kit and headed to Dean. Sam worked silently, cleaning out the wound. "What did this?" He asked, eyes stuck to the deep gashes. "Do I need to wash these with holy water?" Sam asked. He was willing to push aside his anger for the moment, but that didn't mean that Dean wasn't getting an earful later. If Sam could gather enough energy to do so. Right now he just felt drained from the relief, then anger, and then fear again because if Dean was doing this again, if he was going around hunting while Sam was busy with school... one day Sam really would come back home to find out that Dean's gone, and he's not coming back because he's been killed.

The drive home had been too damned long for the way his back hurt. At least the deep scratches along his back from the banshee had almost stopped bleeding by the time he pulled the Impala into the parking spot in front of their apartment. If he felt a little light headed as he got out of the car he ignored it. He also ignored the blood stains he’d left on the Impala’s front seat when he got out of the car. He was too damned tired to care right now. He’d clean it up in the morning.

Dean wasn’t at all surprised to see the lights still on in their apartment or the shadow by the window when he looked up. Of course Sam was waiting for him. It was almost three in the morning and he hadn’t even been able to call his brother and let him know he was all right and on his way home. He’d broken his cell phone when he’d been knocked down by the second banshee he hadn’t realized was there. The damned things didn’t usually travel in pairs, but it wasn’t unheard of either.

Sam was going to be pissed… Dean expected that, so he wasn’t surprised by the bitch face the younger boy was wearing when he finally walked through the door. Sam’s expression shifted almost immediately from anger to concern when his brother got a good look at him, and Dean wondered if he looked as crappy as he felt.

He winced slightly when his brother came over to him and started poking at the scratches on his back. Dean didn’t answer his brother’s question, since the answer was obvious. He simply obeyed the younger boy and headed to the bathroom without a word. Taking a seat on the toilet and letting Sam help him out of the ripped clothing and clean the wounds on his back.

“Just a banshee. Peroxide should be fine.” Dean answered tiredly. He closed his eyes, not realizing it when he started leaning a little to the side.

Just a banshee. Right.

Then Dean was leaning to the side and Sam's worry skyrocketed. He gingerly wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, careful of the injury and helped him into the bedroom. Sam retreated into his mind, his only focus was now Dean's bleeding wounds. He didn't pay mind to how terrified he had been when Dean was so late, or how it was his brother bleeding on the bed, or how if something happened to Dean he'll have no one left.

He worked quickly, stripping off Dean's shirt and cleaning the wounds with peroxide to disinfect them. Then he got to work on suturing the biggest ones shut, and just covering up the smaller ones. By the time he was done, Dean's back was nearly covered in bandages. Sam sat there for a moment after he had finished tying up the last bandage. He put a hand gently on the biggest cut, seeing the slight pink where the blood was already seeping through the bandages, but it was slow and Sam knew it would stop. Nothing to worry about.

Sam knew what Dean wanted. He wanted everything that Sam didn't. And Dean didn't want everything that Sam did. While Sam craved normalcy, stability, security, Dean rushed after danger and violence. The rockier their lives got, the more Dean was in his element.

He knew what he should do. He should tell Dean they should start moving around again, just so he'll be there when Dean found a hunt. He won't be left behind. But this apartment that had started to feel like home, the school where he was making friends, the big tests coming up that will determine his grade... the soccer game one month from now...

Sam wanted that. Wanted that so badly that even considering the idea they leave now was making him sick to his stomach.

"Well, I guess six months was more than I should have expected..." Sam said quietly. He was angry, so angry, but mostly just terrified. "Next time you want to hunt, tell me." Sam breathed in deeply, hand moving to the exposed smooth skin of Dean's back above the bandage, letting his fingers trail over the soft warmth. "Don't make me come home from school only to find you gone and not answering your cell. That's exactly how Dad disappeared, and I don't know what I'd do if you disappeared that way too."

Dean made a small sound of discomfort when Sam helped him back to his feet without much warning. He’d just sat down and got comfortable, damn it. But he didn’t otherwise complain as the younger boy steered him into the bedroom and helped him lay down on the bed instead. Dean had to admit, the bed was a hell of a lot more comfortable, and when he laid down the room stopped slowly spinning, which had to be a good thing.

He let his eyes slide closed again as Sam went to work cleaning the cuts and stitching them up. A process that was never very pleasant, considering most of the time they had to do it without any kind of anesthetic. But Sam was quick and efficient as always. He’d take his younger brother stitching him up to a quack in an emergency room any day.

Dean was exhausted, but of course he couldn’t go to sleep with the feeling of the needle piercing into his torn skin over and over no matter how gentle Sam was trying to be. Once Sam was done stitching though and in the process of putting the bandages on he felt sleep tugging at him more insistently.

Damn, he was going to be hurting tomorrow. Right now it didn’t feel too bad though. The feeling of Sam’s soft fingers trailing over the back of his neck made him sigh and relax more into the covers. Dean turned his head slowly, blinking his eyes open to look up at his brother while Sam spoke.

Six months? That was a long time to stick around in one place. They’d only been here for a few weeks… a little over a month… Had he told Sam they were going to stay here that long? He couldn’t remember right now. Dean honestly wasn’t sure if he even wanted to stay here that long. Dad was still out there, they had to find him, not to mention there were still things out there to hunt, they couldn’t do that if they stayed here… maybe that was the point Sam was making.

Dean frowned a little… he’d never told Sam they would stay here forever. Just a little while… But he certainly wasn’t feeling up to arguing with Sam about it right now. Sam had been so damned happy the last few weeks… Dean supposed they could stay here a little bit longer. He wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t going to disappear on Sam.

“I’ll be fine, Sammy. Not going anywhere.” Dean finally said tiredly, his eyes sliding closed again. ““It’s late. You’ve got school tomorrow. You should be in bed.”

Sam saw how his mentioning six months made Dean uncomfortable, like he was surprised. Sam realized with a jolt that Dean had never intended to stay here very long. Forget the years that Sam had hoped for, even a few months was making Dean antsy. With that same realization Sam concluded that his thought that with Dad not here, maybe he'll get to stop someplace for a while, be safe, finish schooling in one spot, was actually really fucking stupid.

Anger and sadness disappeared, leaving only crushing disappointment. He nodded jerkily, leaving Dean to rest in the bed as he went out to the living room. He wasn't particularly sleepy. He thought of school tomorrow, how he was going to leave soon anyway so why bother? He thought of that soccer match, of the exams and the tests... why bother with any of them?

He sat down on the couch, head in his hands, a mimicry of the position he had been in just barely an hour or two ago while he had waited for Dean to return. In a moment of pure, unadulterated rage, he considered getting up and telling Dean to go to hell and go fucking hunt if he wanted to do that so badly, but he was staying here and getting an education and making a life for himself which didn't involve running after the very things people were supposed to run from. Right on that thought he realized that no, he won't be able to live with the knowledge that Dean was hunting alone, with no backup. Then he became angry again, that Dean was choosing this and really, why does Sam's wanting something other people get SO DAMN EASILY have to be so DAMN DIFFICULT? Why can't he have a home? Why can't he have a brother he doesn't worry about all the time? Why can't he have a family in which his Mom wasn't killed by a demon and his Dad didn't disappear, possibly killed by that same demon, and his brother wasn't on the same exact road to that same exact place?

Why can't he have his fireplaces and marshmallows and smores?

He looked up at the time. It was nearly 4:30 AM.

He got up, turning the lights off and lying down on the couch. He had about an hour's time to take a nap before he had to go run the paper route.

It was as he was lying there, his face turned into the back of the mildly moldy couch, that he came to the conclusion that no, he wasn't leaving, and Dean may be older than him, but he was NOT Dad and he had NO control over what Sam did or didn't do. So he can try his hardest, but short of knocking Sam out and tying him up, he wasn't getting him to go anywhere.

Things pretty much went downhill after that night.

Sam was obviously pissed off at him in a major way. At first Dean had figured the younger boy was simply mad at him for getting hurt on a hunt, which wasn't a new thing. That didn't really bother him too much because at least it meant that his brother cared about him. After a few days he figured Sam would get over his 'scare' and things would go back to normal.

But a week after Dean had recovered from the relatively minor wounds he began to realize it was more than that. More than half the time Sam treated him like he was public enemy number one. At first it was just giving him withering glares any time Dean opened the newspaper or if he came home a little late. Then they started getting into serious arguments when Sam started talking about buying stuff for the apartment or wasting money on fixing the place up a little. Things they wouldn't need because they weren't going to be staying here...

Sam was almost never 'home' anyway. The younger boy was always out with his friends or at soccer practice or some other extra school activity. Dean had even come home from work one night to the living room filled with teenagers, Sam's 'friends', studying and eating pizza on the floor. Sam had been laughing until he turned and saw Dean standing there and the younger boy had glared at him like Dean was some kind of intruder.

Little rebellious things, things Sam never would have been able to get away with if Dad were around, but Dad wasn't around, and Dean wasn't Dad as Sam pointed him out to him during one of their shouting matches, making Dean see red. Needless to say, they didn't share the bedroom any longer. Dean slept on the couch when he came home from pulling double shifts most nights at the damned supermarket. Yeah, he hated the work, but it was better than coming home every night and fighting with Sam. He felt like he was crawling out of his skin and he was starting to really hate this god damned town.

Which was why when he came across information about a hunt three states over, Dean didn't hesitate packing his duffel. They had been here for three months now. A more than long enough 'break' he'd promised Sam. He'd even saved up quite a bit of cash from pulling all those double shifts recently. More than enough to hold them on the road for a while. Dean was in the living room, checking over the weapons, filling shot gun shells with salt, when Sam came home from school.

"Got info on a hunt a few states over. Vengeful spirit's been drowning kids in a pool. I'm leaving in an hour." Dean said, not looking up from what he was doing as he waited for Sam's reply. It would tell him a lot about where they now stood.

Things were bad for a while, and Sam found a rebellious side inside him that hadn't come out yet. He had always thought he was being 'rebellious' by standing up to Dad, by asking him for things that he used to think he deserved and that Dad should be able to give him, but after Dean returned from that banshee hunt, Sam found that he could hardly recognize himself.

Often he did things just to hurt Dean, just to show him that yeah, they were brothers. That Sam could and will stand up to Dean if he wanted to. That Dean didn't control him. He started wanting to make the apartment nicer, someplace he could call home. He started wanting little things. Like how the living room was always pretty much dark because the only light was in the open concept kitchen space, so he wanted a lamp. Not an expensive one, just something he could use to study by. But Dean thought it was a waste of money. Of course he did. It's not like he planned on living here.

He went and bought that lamp anyway. And then took great delight in letting Dean know that he had used his money from the paper route to pay for it.

He was making friends, getting invited to their homes, even being offered lunch and dinners at their tables with their families. So in an attempt to balance the scales a little, he asked them to come to his place for a study session. He even got pizzas, and all of them spread out over the living room and made it livelier than it had ever been. Of course, Dean didn't know. If he had, then he would have said no and even though Sam cared very little about whether Dean said no or not, it was just easier to go behind his back.

And there was something else.

There was this girl, Line - pronounced Lin-ay, Sam remembered her pointing it out - who Sam really liked. She was smart, was in his math club, and on top of that she was stronger and faster than most girls he had met. Dark haired and green eyed, she was sweet to Sam and brought him cookies to share during lunch.

Sam wasn't experienced enough to read cues from a girl, but he really thought she liked him. And he wondered if maybe... maybe...

Then she kissed him one day, in the hallway after school. It was quick, just a brief press of lips and she blushed, looking nervous like Sam would turn her down. He smiled and told her he'll see her tomorrow. They walked out of school hand in hand.

And of course, he walked into the apartment to find Dean packing his bag.

A hunt? And Sam noticed how Dean said 'I'm' instead of making any offer for Sam to follow. Sam shrugged. Might as well.

"Alright then," Sam said coolly, casual, like Dean had said he was going out for some fresh air. "When will you be back?" He grabbed a soda from the fridge, leaning against the wall as he looked at Dean, popping it open and the gas escaped from it with a hiss. Inside he was worried about him. As difficult as he had been making things, he was still Dean's brother and he still worried. But he had learned from the best at not showing his true emotions. "Not that I care. I just figured I should have an idea of when to consider you gone for good."

Dean honestly hadn’t known how his brother would respond. At one time, not so long ago, he might have. In fact, he would have sworn he knew Sam better than he knew himself… he would have said that Sam knew him the same way. That wasn’t true anymore. Every day Sam felt more and more like a stranger to him rather than a brother.

The younger boy had made it very clear that Dean’s opinion about anything meant squat to him. If he told Sam to do something, his brother would refuse for no other reason because he could. The younger boy bucking his authority much the same way that Sam had with Dad in recent years, only a hell of a lot more boldly than he ever had with their father. Dean wasn’t their father. Being his older brother didn’t mean very much to Sam either anymore.

At one time, Sam might have insisted on going with him on this hunt. At another time, his brother might have insisted that Dean not go at all. Now? Sam merely asked coolly when he would be back. As though he didn’t really care one way or another…

When Sam confirmed just that, he didn’t care, Dean paused for a moment. His brother might have thought that before, but he had certainly never said it. Well… he supposed Sam had just answered his unspoken question. Refusing to show just how much Sam had hurt him with so few words, Dean merely continued what he was doing. He finally gave an offhand shrug to his brother’s question.

“About a week or so, I guess. There’s plenty of food in the fridge and there’s cash in an envelope on the table.” Dean replied as he finished up with the last shotgun shell and started gathering them up to put in the ammo case.

Sam knew his words had hurt Dean, could see it in the brief flicker of his eyes only because he had been watching for it. Dean was a master of repression, and it was only because they spent so much time together that he even noticed that split second crack in his facade. He waited to feel victorious, since it had been his intention to hurt Dean... but all he felt was empty. It was an empty victory. Dean didn't deserve the punishment, but Sam couldn't stop himself.

"I can take care of myself," Sam said easily, the words perfectly designed to mean more than they did. He could take care of himself. He could handle being by himself. He didn't need to be babysat or looked down to. He was nearly fifteen, and a few days without Dean wouldn't kill him. "I have homework to do. Try not to get killed," Sam said dismissively, grabbing his backpack and heading to the bedroom.

He felt his chest ache with the way things had been between them, knowing that it was mostly his fault. But then he'd remember how when they had come here, Sam had thought it would be close to long term, something he hadn't had with Dad, only to have all his hopes dashed. He was just trying to hold onto some semblance of stability, and Dean was shaking the foundation everytime he went hunting for things that wanted to eat him. When once Sam would have felt worry, now every event just made him angrier. He'd worry about something that couldn't be helped. But when people sought out danger, put themselves in the middle of it, then Sam wasn't particularly sympathetic.

If a werewolf broke into their apartment tomorrow and mauled Dean, yeah Sam would worry. Hell, he'd probably lose his mind with worry. But if Dean went to hunt that very same werewolf... now it was an entirely different ballgame. As worried as Sam would be, it would be tainted with more than a healthy dose of anger.

As Sam put his bag down near the makeshift desk, his ears were trained on Dean, listening to his movement outside. He itched with the need to go out, to hug him and say he'll be worried and to check in everyday. He pretty much had to lock his arms and legs in position to keep from going out and asking him if he could come too, just to watch his back, if nothing else.

Sam looked down at his Chemistry textbook. There was a big test in two days... Dean said he'll be gone for a week...

If he skipped this test, he'll lose a good chunk out of the final mark... and he needed a good transcript for when he applied to college... Sam sank into the chair, biting his lip. The dilemma only made him angrier, and sad at the same time. No one should have to choose between their future and their family. Ever.

If Sam’s dismissal was meant to rip out his heart, then his brother had done a pretty good job of it. Dean couldn’t help but stare after the younger boy as Sam went to the bedroom without a single look back. Try not to get killed… like Sam didn’t care either way. Didn’t care if he came home or not. Dean wanted to believe that Sam didn’t really mean that. That his brother was just being a regular spiteful rebellious teenager… But it was still hard to believe that Sam could actually say something like that to him even if he didn’t mean it.

When the door to the bedroom shut it shook Dean out of his thoughts and for a moment he fought with himself. Whether to go after his brother, try to talk to him, which would probably only dissolve into another shouting match between them, or to just leave…

Why shouldn’t he leave? Sam didn’t want to talk to him. His brother hadn’t wanted to talk to him for weeks now. Didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Didn’t want anything that might interfere with the ‘perfect’ life he had here now.

Still even if the younger boy hated him, Sam was still his brother. For a moment Dean had doubts whether he should even go at all. He hadn’t left Sam alone for this long before. How many times had his brother told him he wasn’t a kid anymore? But three kids had already been drowned by the ghost. There was going to be more, a lot more, if it wasn’t stopped. It was only a week… hopefully. And if something happened to him… Sam always had Bobby and Pastor Jim’s number.

So Dean finally bent down, grabbed his duffel and headed for the door. He got in the Impala, threw his duffel in the back seat, and opened the driver’s side door. He looked up at the window of their apartment only once before he got in the car, slid the key in the ignition, and drove away.

When Sam heard the Impala rumble away, he felt his stomach drop with regret and he suddenly started feeling physically ill. He didn't really know what was wrong, never having reacted this way to anything, but he couldn't stop thinking about what he had said to Dean, how he had acted as Dean left for a hunt and now, in their line of work, if something happened to Dean, his cruel words will be the last thing he heard from Sam.

He sat there, breathing heavily for a few minutes, feeling the seconds tick by. The chemistry textbook sat there and mocked him. He had chosen his studies over his own brother.

Sam searched for that anger he had been clinging to for months now, but he couldn't find it. The only thing he could feel right now was bone-deep remorse.

He got up quickly, grabbing a duffel and throwing underwear, a jeans, and several hoodies in before zipping it up. Dean couldn't have gone far.

He grabbed his cell phone, calling Dean. With mouth dry, as soon as Dean picked up the cell, Sam let the words fly.

"I'm coming with you. Now if you want to pick me up then great, otherwise I'm hitching a ride till I catch up with you," Sam informed him before he could even get a word in. He had already locked up the apartment and was heading down the stairs. "So what'll it be? Am I hitching a ride?" He asked, stepping out from the building and heading towards the road, wondering if he'll be signaling down a random car, or if he'll be getting into an Impala.

Dean had gone barely a couple miles down the road when his cell phone began to ring.

He knew it was Sam without even looking at the screen, but he was surprised how reluctant he was to actually answer the phone once he’d fished it out of his pocket. He really didn’t think his brother would call him minutes after he left just to rip him a new one, but nothing would have surprised Dean by now.

When he finally pressed the answer button before the final ring, Sam started talking practically before he managed to get the phone up to his ear. Dean never would have thought he’d be so damned glad to hear his younger brother being his annoyingly stubborn self, not letting him get a word in edgewise, much less a choice in the matter.

“I’ll be there in three minutes, Sammy.” Dean said when Sam finally gave him the chance to talk and hung up the phone. Already making a U-turn at the intersection as he spoke and stepping on the gas. Somehow he wasn’t at all surprised when he pulled back up to their apartment building to find Sam already waiting for him outside, duffel in hand.

Sam saw the Impala come down the street and he couldn't help a grin threatening to split his face into half. As the car rolled up, he opened the passenger side door and got in, throwing the duffel into the backseat in the process.

"I can totally take care of myself," Sam said, purposefully sounding like an ass, but the way he was relieved that Dean actually came and that he had a chance to apologize made him feel almost giddy. "But I figured you need someone to stitch your ass up when you get sliced to hell and back."

Sam looked at Dean and gave him a small smile but it fell quickly. "And... after this hunt, we need to talk." Because we can't keep going this way. Because we'll end up beating the shit out of each other or something before the year is over if we stay on this path.

“Of course you could, Sammy.” Dean replied as Sam got into the car. Sure, he knew his brother was being a pain in the ass, on purpose, but he didn’t really care right now.

He only cared that Sam was smiling at him again. Not giving him that impassive uncaring stare or anger filled glare. Really smiling at him and Dean didn’t care how much of a pain in the ass his little brother was. He couldn’t help smiling back and it finally felt like the tight fist that had been gripping his heart for the last several weeks was finally loosening.

Talk…

Dean glanced briefly over at his brother, saw the seriousness in the younger boy’s eyes, and he nodded. Yeah, he supposed they did need to talk. Though Dean couldn’t say he was looking forward to the discussion or the possible outcome.

*

They reached Alpine, Texas after about three days of driving. When they got there Sam’s research helped them figure out who the vengeful spirit had been. About ten years ago some kids had been playing around in a pool with no lifeguard around. Apparently the kids had gotten a little rough with the dunking and the kid had accidentally drowned. Just an accident, but now the ghost was pissed.

Unfortunately they also found out that the kid had been cremated, so that meant something else was keeping the spirit tied to the pool where he’d been drowned. So he and Sam went to investigate the pool. It was easy sneaking in because it had been closed down for the last several weeks while the drownings were investigated.

Unfortunately the ghost was just as pissed with them being there, and when Sam had been knocked into the water Dean had practically panicked. Of course Sam knew how to swim, but it certainly wasn’t the same when a fucking vengeful homicidal ghost was trying to pull his brother under. Dean dove into the pool and managed to finally pull his brother out of the water.

In the locker room they finally managed to find a comb in an old locker, a fucking comb, with a bit of hair left from the kid who’d drowned. They got rid of it, and the EMF meter said the place was clean afterwards.

They were in the car now, on the way back to their motel room. Sam had seemed ok when Dean pulled him out of the pool, but Sam was still coughing a little every once in a while, and he was worried how much water his brother might have inhaled.

“You ok, Sammy?” Dean asked as he glanced over at the younger boy sitting in the passenger seat, wrapped up in a blanket he’d pulled out of the trunk.

If Sam had enough breath to be pissed off, he would have been. Of course he would fall into the pool, and of course, the ghost will then target him. The few moments he was underwater were the worst ones of his short life. As he struggled to go back up, get just another mouthful of air, something kept a hold on his foot, keeping him down and just inches away from the air. His hands thrashed, leaving the water easily, but he couldn't raise his head up.

He tried to call for Dean, mouth opening and air bubble escaping. The words were muffled, resonating underwater, and Sam lost a little bit more of the precious air. Just as his burning lungs started to go numb and Sam started feeling lethargic, suddenly there were strong arms around him, pulling him out of the water. He opened his mouth, trying to breathe but he couldn't, lungs trying but unable to pull in the air.

As Dean put him on the ground, turning him to his side into the recovery position, suddenly he was coughing up water... so much water, and that first breath burned like acid, making his lungs scream and protest as the water was replaced with sweet oxygen.

He felt weak, bone-deep exhaustion making his muscles tremble, but Dean managed to find the comb that had the kid's hair and disposed of it.

In the car, with a blanket wrapped around himself, Sam sat on the passenger side, muscles trembling slightly not from the cold, but just from exhaustion. His head was resting on the window, wet hair leaving droplets on the cool glass.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked and Sam turned to look at him slowly. He took a few moments to answer, rolling the words around in his mouth before getting the energy to say them.

"Yeah... just tired," Sam answered quietly, pulling the blanket in tighter around himself. He just wanted a hot bath, and then a bed. He was sure he'll be fine soon. It was just the scare of having almost drowned that was probably messing him up right now. "Let's just go," he whispered before closing his eyes and dozing.


*


That night as he slept, he dreamed of the hunt. He found himself back underwater, looking into the blank eyes of a young, pale kid as he held Sam's feet, holding him down inches away from the top.

"It is not funny!" The ghost yelled, tugging Sam down again when Sam tried to reach for the surface. "It hurts! Stop doing this! It is not funny! Stop it! Stop it! Stop laughing at me!" he kept yelling and Sam covered his ears, twisting this way and that as he tried to swim up, kicking with his feet.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, voice distorted underwater. "Dean!"

"No one is going to come, and then they'll laugh at you too."

"Dean!" Sam yelled again and this time when he opened his eyes, he was in the motel room, it was dark, and he was sitting up. He frowned for a moment, wondering if he was making up the kid's words, or if he had really heard them but in his panic hadn't registered them. Shivering to himself, he got out of bed and crawled into Dean's. He wrapped his arms around Dean's chest, putting his head on Dean's shoulder and closing his eyes. "Can I sleep here tonight? Please?" Sam asked quietly, throwing one leg over Dean's hip as though he had no intention of moving, no matter what Dean answered.

Sam’s reassurance that he was fine, just tired, wasn’t much of a reassurance to Dean. He didn’t like how weak and hoarse the younger boy’s voice sounded, but he supposed that was to be expected, given how much water his brother had coughed up earlier. Dean definitely didn’t like the way Sam trembled beneath the blanket wrapped around him though. Dean was just as soaked as Sam from having to dive into the pool after his brother, but he wasn’t trembling the way Sam was...

“Ok, Sammy.” Dean replied softly, stepping on the gas a little harder to get them back to he motel room even faster so that he could take care of his brother.

*

Dean helped his brother into the motel room and then helped Sam out of his wet clothes so the younger boy could take a warm bath. He hoped that would help. That Sam was just trembling from cold and exhaustion and with a little bit of rest and warm dry clothes that his brother would be just fine. Dean hoped...

He couldn’t help but worry though. He’d seen how much water the younger boy had coughed up when he’d pulled Sam out of that pool. What if Sam got sick? What if he got pneumonia from inhaling all that damned water? Christ, Sam had nearly drowned tonight. What if Dean hadn’t been able to get him out of the pool in time? The ghost had been so damned strong, determined to hold his brother under... Sam could have drowned right in his arms...

When Sam was done with his bath, Dean had offered to go get them some food, but Sam hadn’t been hungry. Understandably. In truth, Dean hadn’t been very hungry either. So he’d merely helped his brother into bed, tucking him in securely with extra blankets and watching over the younger boy for a long time once Sam was asleep.

Dean finally fell asleep close to midnight, and his dreams hadn’t been pleasant. He dreamed they were back in that pool, Dean fighting against the ghost trying to drown his brother. At first Sam struggling with him, trying to break free from the ghost holding him under the water, but slowly turning into a dead weight in his arms. When Dean had finally managed to pull his brother out of the water, his brother’s skin was blue and he wasn’t breathing. He tried to give his brother air mouth to mouth, but Sam just laid there limp, lifeless, not breathing...

Over and over he tried to save his brother. Sam crying out in fear as he was thrown into the pool, Dean diving in after him as his brother screamed his name over and over, but over and over Dean failed to save him...

When Dean finally startled awake it took him a moment to realize that the sound of his brother calling his name was actually real. Before he could even sit up though, suddenly Sam was in his bed with him. The younger boy wrapping his limbs around him tightly, begging to sleep with him, and Dean sure as hell was not about to refuse. Not when his own arms wrapped around the younger boy almost desperately, holding his brother close to him, practically before the words were out of Sam’s mouth.

“Its ok, Sammy. I’ve got you. I’ve got you...” Dean whispered, gently petting Sam’s hair as he cradled the younger boy close to him.

It took them another three days to get back to their apartment and by that time they had been gone for a little more than a week. Sam counted. They had been gone eight days. He sighed and forged a note that stated that he had been sick, which he got Dean to sign.

Things between them had been less than perfect, but slightly better. Sam realized he had been an ass, but he was not ready to pretend that he had been wrong. He knew what he wanted was not wrong. He knew that if they did things his way, no one would come home with gashes up their back, or almost drown while being held under by a ghost. He knew that if they did things his way, they'll live a long and calm life.

And if they did things the way Dean wanted them to... well, the fact that Dean nearly had his kidneys taken out by a banshee and Sam nearly inhaled enough water to kill him should be proof enough of who was right.

But that doesn't excuse the fact that he had been an ass and they really needed to talk. If Dean and him continued to not talk, Sam would resort to being an ass in an attempt to get his thoughts across without saying a word about them. But he was trying to be civil and he decided to stop punishing Dean for wanting to move... that is, not yet. If Dean said one word about them moving, then he was going to have a screaming match with him.

At school, he begged and pleaded with his Chemistry teacher to let him write a retake and the teacher folded, mostly because Sam was a good student, and he knew that Sam worked very hard at school. So he was given a second chance in two days time. Chemistry problem solved, Sam then sought out Line. Line was pissed. She told him how she had been worried at first, then angry, then worried again, and now she was at the angry stage. Sam apologized but she said the magic words. That she couldn't date someone she couldn't rely on, and that as cute and smart and sweet Sam was, she couldn't be expected to wait on him every time he disappeared. Sam wanted to tell her it won't happen again, but he knew it would so he didn't say anything. His first relationship ended before it even began.

Needless to say, when Sam got home he was in a foul mood. He was inches away from throwing things around and throwing an epic tantrum, the kinds of which this family hadn't seen yet. His hold on calm was tenous, hands gripping his backpack's shoulder strap a smidgen too tight.

Dean wasn't home. His shift didn't let out for a while yet so Sam went straight into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. He didn't know if wanted Dean home so he could yell at him, or if he just wanted to curl up next to his brother and try to calm down. After a few minutes, he got up and headed out of the apartment, opting to go to the grocery store where Dean worked and give him some company. The public surroundings will make sure Sam didn't lose his head, and watching Dean work and maybe talking to him for a little bit may make Sam feel better. So he headed down there and found Dean at the cashier's, checking in some old lady's groceries.

"Hey," Sam said quietly, leaning on the counter on the other side so that he wasn't in the way and Dean could still see him. "I managed to get a retake on that chemistry exam," Sam told him, knowing that Dean really didn't give a damn about a chemistry test, but he figured that he might as well tell him.

The days it took them to drive back to California, Dean had watched his brother like a hawk. Worried, despite Sam’s reassurances that he was feeling better, that his brother was going to get pneumonia or something and Dean would have to rush him to the hospital. Dean had no idea what the hell he was going to do if it came to that. Their fake insurance cards had expired, and they didn’t have any fake credit cards anymore to cover the bill.

To make matters worse, Dean barely got any sleep at night because of that damned dream he kept having over and over. Of watching Sam drown and his brother dying in his arms despite his best efforts to save him…

They didn’t talk about it. In fact, they hardly talked about anything at all. Dean wasn’t sure if the silence was worse than the shouting he’d almost expected. Sam had every right to be pissed off at him now though. He’d almost gotten his little brother killed, after all… Christ… he’d almost gotten Sam killed…

So, yeah, any kind of punishment that Sam decided to dish out, whether it was silence or shouting, Dean knew he deserved. Dean’s conscience hadn’t let him just sit back and do nothing when he knew that little kids were being killed by a ghost and he knew he could stop it… but not at the cost of Sam’s life. That was not something Dean could live with. Ever.

His first job had always been to look after Sam. Even if it wasn’t a job that their father had given him, Dean would have done it anyway. Sam was the most important thing in his life. He always had been. He always would be. It was pretty obvious that he had failed miserably taking care of his brother and trying to hunt, like he thought Dad would have wanted him to. Dean had barely been able to keep Sam fed when they’d been on the road and now he’d nearly gotten his brother killed. If Dean had to choose between taking care of Sam and hunting… there was no choice really…

Despite what his brother might think, Sam always came first to Dean, even above his own life.

So, as soon as they returned to their ‘home’ Dean went back to work at the job he hated without a word. If this is what he had to do to take care of his brother, he would do it without complaint. He was at the front running the register when he saw Sam come in, and couldn’t deny he was surprised to see the younger boy. Sure, Sam knew where he worked, but his brother had never actually come by while he was working. He couldn’t help but wonder what Sam wanted.

“That’s good.” He replied to his brother as he helped bag the lady’s groceries he’d just finished ringing up and loading them into her cart.

Sam was silent for a bit, wondering what to say next. In an attempt to keep himself busy, he started loading the things Dean had scanned into plastic bags. Thoughts kept running through his mind. Memories, ideas, wishes, hopes, frustrations... everything.

So after a few moments when he put in the last item and the customer paid Dean the amount he owed, Sam finally opened his mouth to say something. "I just... I came by because..." He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. Right now, for some strange reason, all he wanted was a hug, but Dean was behind the register and busy and at work and shit, so he could do with helping him out until Dean was done. "I just didn't feel like being alone at home right now," he finally answered, looking up at Dean and seeing him in that green t-shirt the grocery store insisted on making it's employees wear. Dean could make even a goddamn ugly green shirt look good. It was so not fair. He bet that if he looked as good as Dean, and knew how to handle women, and was as confident and charming as Dean was, then Line wouldn't have said no so easily today.

He shifted awkwardly for a moment.

"I could go, if you want," Sam said quietly, not know why he was feeling so down. It couldn't just be Line. He'd had to leave behind crushes before, great friends he'd made in a short time and then had to leave them behind without even a goodbye... so it couldn't be just Line. But something was making him clingy, making him want to hug Dean, hold him tightly and not let go for so long that Dean wouldn't ever be able to leave him.

For some strange reason, he wished harder than ever that Dad was here right now. He'd tell Sam to get over it, to get his ass in gear and drop and give him twenty. He could do with having someone other than Dean handle his problems. Then maybe he'd see his brother smile again.

With a jolt he realized that he hadn't seen Dean smile in a long long time, and he knew it was mostly his fault. Feeling like shit, Sam vowed to try and stop being such a pissy bitch. Maybe... maybe they'll be able to handle things more efficiently if they weren't playing tug of war over every little thing.

Dean continued to work while he waited for Sam to tell him why he’d come by. It couldn’t have been just to tell him about a test. Sam could have told him that when he got home. Or maybe not. Sam hadn’t exactly been in a very talkative mood lately, at least with him. So his brother must have come by for something important. Maybe Sam wanted some money for something and it couldn’t wait? Or maybe his brother wanted to get something special for dinner? Maybe something was wrong?

The longer his brother stalled. Helping him bag up the customer’s groceries rather than saying what was on his mind the more worried Dean got. When Dean had finally run out the last customer in his line, he looked to Sam. Listening to his brother intently when the younger boy started to speak, then stopped, and finally saying about the last thing Dean would have expected.

When Sam went on to ask him if he wanted him to leave, Dean shook his head then called over to the manager. “Hey Nick! I’m gonna take my break.”

Receiving a nod from the older man, he stepped out from behind the register, and went over to Sam.

“Come on. Lets go outside.” Dean said as he put an arm around his brother’s slim shoulders and led his younger brother outside and around the side of the building where they could talk mostly alone. Once they were alone he couldn’t help running his fingers through Sam’s bangs, pushing them off the younger boy’s forehead as he felt his brother for a temperature. Worried that maybe Sam was starting to get sick after all, but the younger boy didn’t feel all that warm.

“You feeling ok, Sammy? What’s up?” He finally asked.

Dean's touch made some of that worry and pointless anxiety leave, and Sam leaned a bit into the soft caress.

"You feeling okay, Sammy? What's up?" Dean finally asked and Sam didn't know how to answer it without sounding like a whiny little bitch. He just concentrated on breathing for a few moments, smelling Dean's scent as the gentle wind blew it towards him. Sam sighed and stepped closer, wrapping his arms loosely around Dean and putting his head on Dean's shoulder.

"I'm good, it's nothing," Sam said quietly, just holding on to Dean for a moment. He wondered why he was being this way, when he had spent so many days, months, being pissy and annoying and downright bitchy at Dean... "I've been an asshole, I'm sorry," Sam said finally. "We'll leave if you want to. Go find Dad. I can get my GED whenever... but Dad... I just..."

Sam exhaled slowly, arms tightening around Dean for a moment before pulling back. "I'm worried about Dad, Dean... and I'm terrified that he's dead."

Sam had always thought that without Dad there, life would be easier, more relaxed, more how Sam and Dean wanted it to be like. Instead, with the way Dad disappeared, every day feels like a weight. He's worried all the time how maybe Dad's been dead all along, and how no, it's not good, it's not easier, it's not relaxed. They're terrified and trapped under burdens they had never worried about before. Dean... god, Sam's been such an idiot... not only is Dean trying to play the faithful son by looking for Dad, he's also playing the good brother to Sam, and the stern authority figure to him as well.

All those roles... and Sam can't even handle the simple role of a good little brother.

"I'm so sorry, Dean..." Sam whispered, he reached out, holding Dean's shoulders, wanting to hug him again but not knowing if he'll be too clingy. "I've been an asshole and I've been giving you such a hard time, but I didn't want to leave and I want to stay and finish schooling, but Dad... we have to find Dad and you have to hunt and I'm going to listen to you from now on, I promise."

And with that Sam decided to try and be a good younger brother for once, someone Dean could rely on. Isn't this exactly why Dean had to resort to... what he had to, earlier, just to keep Sam fed? And now Sam was back to being the bitch he always had been, demanding things left right and center.

He knew he found it difficult to find any fault in himself, but right now he just felt horrible. His whole life, and everything he had said and done was laid out in front of him and Sam was ashamed.

When Sam hugged him instead of answering him, Dean knew something was definitely wrong, and his brother’s assurance that he was ‘good’ and it was ‘nothing’ was utter bullshit. Dean wanted to insist that Sam tell him what had happened, but something told him it would be better if he let Sam get to it at his own pace. So he simply held his brother, gently petting his hair, giving the younger boy all the time he needed.

When Sam finally started speaking, Dean couldn’t help but sigh softly.

“Sammy…” He said softly, hugging his brother a little tighter, but Dean didn’t interrupt. Almost reluctantly releasing the younger boy when Sam started to pull away.

All this was about Dad? Somehow, Dean didn’t think so, it was more than that. But he certainly didn’t want to just dismiss everything that Sam was saying. Things they should probably be talking about at home rather than here, but…

“Sammy, you don’t have to apologize to me.” Dean finally said when Sam let him get a word in. Hell, Sam shouldn’t have to apologize to him for anything. Dean was the one who’d almost gotten his younger brother killed, after all.

“I’m worried about Dad too. Yeah, I want to keep looking for him, but… there aren’t any more leads.” Dean sighed and shook his head. Looking away guiltily. “Dad would want me to take care of you. I haven’t been doing a very good job of that, I know. I almost got you killed… If you want to stay here, we can stay here. I don’t have to hunt, I’d rather you be safe.”

Sam shook his head when Dean mentioned the almost drowning. He looked up into Dean's eyes, letting him see that he was sincere.

"It wasn't your fault. I fell into the pool, and the ghost grabbed me. It's not like you pushed me into it," Sam said, shrugging. "And let's just forget about that, that's not even an issue."

Sam breathed for a moment, getting his thoughts in order. "Look, I know you hate it here. I see how you drag your feet when you're getting ready for work, I see how tired you are when you come back home... and I just..."

Sam sighed, stepping further away.

"I'm gonna go home. We'll talk more when you're done your shift," Sam said instead, opting to just leave Dean alone for now. He'll talk to Dean later. In fact, tonight he'll try and convince Dean to share the bed tonight. For some reason he really missed his brother, and the guilt of the way he had been treating Dean lately was eating into him. Sam said his byes, turning around and heading down the road towards their apartment building.


*


Sam was reading the day's newspaper, ignoring his textbooks. He didn't know why but right now the sight of them made him sick. He kept thinking of the moment he had told Dean to try not to get killed, and then chosen his books over his own brother. It was something he hadn't ever thought he was capable of doing. For the past ten days or so, the hunt had kept him from thinking too much, but the whole drowning thing... it had shaken him. If he had died, then he would have left Dean thinking that Sam didn't care for him, that he thought Sam hated him.

Sam could never hate Dean. And after Line had dumped him (that's what he was calling it in his head, even when he knew there hadn't been a relationship to begin with) he just realized with a jolt that people will come and go, tests will happen and he'll pass them or fail them or get into college or not, but one thing that was constant was his belief that Dean would take care of him always.

A realization like that shook him to the core, and made the guilt eat him up. He had been pretty much abusing Dean. He had been taking him for granted, taking everything Dean did at face value, finding faults, blaming him, forcing him to get him better things, to work harder, to provide him things which, frankly, he was starting to think he didn't deserve...

Sam looked at the time and saw that it was almost time for Dean to come home. So he got up, decided to man up for once and make him some out of the box mac-n-cheese. Dean always made them dinner when he got home from work, and it was another thing that Sam realized he never helped out with.

Dad might have left them, or gotten killed, or whatever, but now Dean was all Sam had, and Sam was all Dean had. It was about time Sam realized that and started pulling his own weight.

Dean wasn’t sure how to reply to Sam at first. Not an issue? Of course it was an issue! His brother had almost died! If he’d just left the younger boy here, gone by himself, or not gone at all then Sam would have been safe. He wouldn’t have almost drowned because of some psychotic murdering ghost.

He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say died unspoken when his brother accused him of hating it here. The problem was, Dean couldn’t really deny it.

Ok, so maybe the town itself wasn’t so bad. But Dean couldn’t deny he hated this fucking job and felt… trapped… in this town. They couldn’t leave because Dean couldn’t support Sam living on the road, the last year had proven that much. He couldn’t quit this job because he needed to support his brother, give him a place to live, and food to eat. He couldn’t get another job, so he was stuck doing this job that he hated.

So what? Most people in this world were stuck doing jobs they hated. What made him so special?

When Sam finally said they’d talk at home, Dean sighed and nodded. Not much else he could say. He had to get back to work.

“Ok, Sammy.” Dean said and watched the younger boy leave before heading back into the grocery store.

*

Dean felt worn out when he finally got off work and returned home. He was still a little tired from the hunt. Not to mention from lack of sleep, worrying about Sam, and those fucking nightmares. He wasn’t really looking forward to making dinner tonight and he hoped Sam would be satisfied with something simple like peanut butter and jelly.

He was surprised when he opened the door to their apartment and smelled food already cooking.

“Sammy?” Dean called out, throwing his jacket on the back of the couch as he headed towards the kitchen.

Sam was just scooping out the macaroni into bowls, cringing slightly at the scorched cheese at the bottom when Dean walked in.

"Burned mac-n-cheese for dinner. Don't complain," Sam said, scooping out the last of it. He put bowls on the rickety coffee table they had, one leg missing and it was being held up by a few bricks they had found out back. It was sturdy enough, and Sam remembered throwing a fit about it once, about wanting a nicer one, and now he could see how pointless and how much of waste of money it would have been.

Sam sat down on the floor, legs crossed Indian style as he dug in. It wasn't half bad. Too little salt, and the charred taste had transferred to some of the unburned cheese, but it was decent.

Sam wanted to talk some more, but frankly, he had run out of things to say. If he said any more, he would start to feel like a sniveling idiot. And Dean forgave him... like always, Dean forgave him. Dean felt guilty about his almost-drowning, he felt guilty about not taking care of Sam better when Sam knew now the kind of things Dean had done just to take care of him, the kind of things that Sam shouldn't know about, and the kind of things that Dean shouldn't ever have done.

He knew that Dean must have wondered how he knew so much about the kind of things that happened in shady alleys and behind old buildings, and he hadn't ever told Dean this but when Sam was in sixth grade, in one of the many schools he had transferred to without Dean there, he had befriended a boy who he had later found on his knees 'servicing' the janitor. Sam hadn't ever confronted him about it, but from then on, he knew way too much about these things. When Dad and Dean had sat down to give him the birds and bees talk, he'd known more than they ever would have dreamed.

So Sam knew, and he knew the kind of desperation that could lead someone into doing something like that, something he considered (outside of being sort of disgusting, he wasn't entirely out of the 'eww' phase yet) to be something intimate.

He knew Dean didn't think he took good enough care of Sam, but Sam knew that even when he might beg to differ on certain occasions, he had the best big brother in the world.

He looked at Dean as they ate with new appreciation. He was still wearing that ugly green shirt from the grocery store, and Sam could see it for what it was. It was Dean's sacrifice of the leather jacket for an ugly, out of shape, too large on him shirt that made Dean look smaller than he was.

"I noticed something weird in the papers today," Sam said quietly. "They're talking about grave desecration... but the bodies have been found half eaten. I'm thinking ghouls?" Sam said, shrugging. "We can go this weekend. It's just over in the next town... won't even take that long." If Dean was willing to hang up his leather jacket and put away his gun for Sam, then Sam was willing to put away his books and his backpack for one weekend and pick up a sawed off for Dean.

Dean eyed the steaming bowls as Sam walked past him into the living room, his stomach growling loudly when he got a good whiff of the Mac and Cheese, and he followed the younger boy with a small laugh. Well, his stomach sure as hell wasn’t complaining, that was for sure. But if Sam thought he was chiseling the burned cheese out of the bottom of that pot when they were done eating, he could think again.

He sat down across from Sam on the floor and picked up his fork and the bowl and started shoveling the Mac and Cheese into his mouth. It was pretty good, despite the slight lingering burnt taste. Dean had skipped lunch this afternoon though, so he definitely wasn’t feeling picky right now. It was kind of nice actually, coming home to dinner waiting for him.

Dean snorted softly to himself at the mental image he suddenly got of Sam in a little ‘kiss the cook’ apron playing the housewife like on those old black and white sitcoms on TV. All ‘welcome home dear’ and giving him a kiss as he walked through the door…

Ok, where the hell had that come from?

Dean shook his head slightly and continued eating, glancing over at his brother every once in a while across the table. Sam was pretty quiet, which surprised Dean. Especially considering that the younger boy had come to his work this afternoon because he wanted to talk but now his brother was utterly silent.

When Sam finally did speak, Dean barely heard him at first, and then he couldn’t quite believe what his brother was saying. Grave desecration and partially eaten corpses, yeah, that pretty much sounded like ghouls. Ghouls for the most part weren’t too dangerous, though on occasion they went from just eating corpses to something a little ‘fresher’, so they were definitely a problem. Usually best to take them out before they got a taste for fresh meat. But…

“Sammy…” Dean started, but he honestly didn’t know how to continue. Just this afternoon he’d made up his mind, no more hunting, not after he’d almost gotten his brother killed. Fuck, Sam had complained about practically every single hunt Dean had gone on for the past year, he always complained when Dad had made him hunt, and now his brother was dangling a hunt right in front of him? If this was some kind of test, Dean honestly didn’t know what the right answer was.

But he couldn’t just ignore it. Sam knew that. Especially when it was just in the next town…

“Alright. We’ll check it out this weekend.” Dean finally said.

Sam could see how him offering Dean a hunt had thrown him for a loop. He wasn't surprised actually, knowing his tendency to get pissy everytime a hunt was mentioned, but really, Dean enjoyed them. They were his thing. He was most in element when behind the wheel of the Impala and with a gun in his hand.

"Great," Sam said with a grin, taking another big bite of the Mac-n-Cheese. "Gotta keep you in shape, dude, you're starting to look a little pudgy around the middle," Sam winked at him, turning back to his pasta and starting to think of his study plan for Chemistry. Now that his guilt was assuaged somewhat, he felt like he could concentrate more.


*


That night, Sam insisted that Dean sleep in the bedroom, claiming that the couch was uncomfortable and Sam knew it was uncomfortable because he had spent a night on it before. It was uneven, it caused his back to cramp, and it led to an unrestful, fitful sleep. Hardly the kind of thing Dean needed.

And it wasn't like the bed in the bedroom was tiny. It was a decent queen, wide enough for them both even if they got tangled together in their sleep. Sam didn't particularly mind, since it was starting to go towards winter and the apartment lacked decent heating. Also, Sam was sort of quickly getting addicted to having Dean close by, someplace he can keep looking at him, keep in some kind of contact with him. He supposed it was the idea of having only Dean left finally sinking in, because Sam was now convinced they'll never see Dad again. A year was too long a time to go missing. If Dad was captured by something, it was too late to save him. If he died already... well...

Dean was all he had left, and Sam knew he had to hold on tight because it was easy to lose people. Dad had always seemed larger than life to Sam. Always so big and strong and he always knew what to do or who to go to. If he could go away, then anyone could.

That night, Sam held Dean tightly as they slept, because he didn't want to imagine a future in which Dean wasn't there calling him a spoiled bitch.

Sam’s pudgy comment made Dean scowl playfully at the younger boy, and if he wasn’t so damned hungry, he probably would have launched a spoonful of Macaroni right at his brother in retaliation. Pudgy... hah! His abs were rock hard. Still, Dean did a few extra sit-ups during his nightly routine before bed, just in case.

He’d been a little bit surprised when Sam insisted that they share the bed in the bedroom tonight. He couldn’t really argue with the younger boy though. The couch certainly wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sleep on, though Dean had slept on worse. He also hadn’t been sleeping very well though the last few nights, and maybe sleeping in an actual bed would help.

Maybe having Sam close to him, safe, while he slept would stop the nightmares he’d been having about watching the younger boy die. So Dean gave in with an order to the younger boy not to drool on him during the night.

When Sam scooted in close to him and wrapped his arms around him while they were getting settled into the bed, Dean certainly didn’t complain. Even though his brother really was getting too old for them to be sharing a bed like this. Maybe, since they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, Dean would look into getting another bed. Or maybe even just another mattress that could be put on the floor.

For now though he enjoyed holding his brother safely in his arms while he fell asleep, and for the first night that week Dean slept through the whole night without waking from a nightmare of losing Sam.

The week went by fast. Sam was absorbed in studying for his Chemistry retake, which me managed to pass with flying colours that Friday. Things between him and Line were tense, mostly because Sam was feeling a little bit hurt that his first relationship ended before it began, and was feeling a little bit annoyed that his first kiss went to someone with whom he didn't even end up dating for one day.

But he learned to ignore it, and he kept his focus on his studies while at school, and on Dean when they were home. He went by the grocery store where Dean worked a few more times, just to help him out in putting groceries in bags while Dean scanned the items. He sometimes struck up a conversation, or sometimes they just worked silently side by side.

He made dinner every night for the rest of the week, even if the attempts ended in disaster twice. At one point he started heating oil in a pan to attempt an omelet when his cell rang and he got distracted. He remembered the pan with oil heating on the stove when smoke started coming into the living room from the kitchen. Luckily the apartment had a busted fire alarm and all that remained of that event were a few scorch marks on the wall above the stove. But more often than not, he had something edible ready for when Dean returned.

They shared a bed every night, so much so that already Sam was starting to feel addicted to the feel of Dean's hard body pressed against his. It had been so long since they had slept so close, and Sam's nightmares were instantly soothed by Dean's presence. In fact, he enjoyed sleeping next to Dean so much that he only went to bed when Dean was read to sleep too. He didn't like going to bed alone anymore.

That Saturday, Sam and Dean headed to the next town over to take care of some ghouls. They staked out in the graveyard that night, hiding behind a large gravestone and waiting for the nasty things to come out. Sam was relaxed, sitting crouched with the gun cocked and just waiting. Dean was next to him, ready as always.

When the first ghoul came out, Sam's instinct was to shoot, but he knew they traveled in groups so if they shot the first one, the rest would come after them. It was a better idea to have them all out in the open and shoot them down one by one. Sam and Dean worked together once the ghouls were all out, a total of five, and started shooting them. They took two out in one go, and when the other three darted towards them, Sam got the one heading for his brother and Dean got another one. The last one, freaked out and scared, turned tail and ran and Sam and Dean had to chase it before shooting it right between the eyes when it got trapped between them and the graveyard fence. Dean took the clean shot, and Sam grudgingly admitted that this hunt had been somewhat, sort of, a little bit fun.

Their gunshots, unfortunately attracted attention and they ran like the devil was on their tails before the police showed up. Luckily, they weren't caught, and the dark colour of the Impala helped them disappear into the dark once the police did show up.

Sam laughed all the way back home, which was just two hours drive away, and even covered in grave dirt and filthy with sweat and muck, Sam had enjoyed himself.

Dean had to admit, the week had turned out pretty well for the most part.

Things between him and Sam were better, a lot better than they had been in a while, and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Dean had been sleeping a lot better lately too, which definitely helped his mood a lot. He knew that had a lot to do with the fact that Sam had insisted they keep sharing the bed, at least until they could afford another one, and Dean wasn’t about to complain. Not when they were both resting easier and Sam didn’t seem to mind sharing the bed with his big brother.

Yeah, if anyone else knew that he and Sam shared a bed every night they’d probably get some weird looks. He knew how it might look. Especially since his brother was nearly fifteen years old. But Dean honestly didn’t give a damn what other people thought. Sammy was all he had left. He liked knowing that his little brother was safe and protected in his arms.

He had thought Sam, in his search for normalcy, would start to care as he got older. Hell, maybe the younger boy would eventually. But until Sam started asking for a bed of his own, they would keep sharing, and taking comfort in the closeness they’d always shared through their lives.

Dean had to admit, he was a little bit surprised when Sam kept showing up at his work in the afternoon after school, but he wasn’t going to complain about that either. He enjoyed having his brother around and it made the day go by a little bit easier at the supermarket.

Sam kept cooking for them too, and he’d told the younger boy before that he didn’t have to keep doing that, but that was the last he’d said of it. If Sam wanted to cook for them, Dean wasn’t going to dissuade him. Though the night he’d come home to the smell of smoke lingering in the air, Dean made sure to buy an extra fire extinguisher the next day.

The hunt on Saturday actually went very well. There were only a few number of ghouls, and he and Sam took care of them quite easily. Yeah, they’d had to make a pretty hasty exit before the cops showed up, but all in all it was a really good night. They were both in a pretty good mood after the hunt, even Sam which surprised Dean a little, so he decided a little bit of celebration was in order. Dean stopped at the liquor store on the way home and picked up two six packs. Why not? Sam didn’t have school and Dean was off work tomorrow too.

When they got home Dean had Sam cook them up some popcorn while he found them a movie to watch on TV. When Sam came out of the kitchen with the bowl of popcorn and settled down on the couch, Dean tossed Sam one of the cold beers.

“Drink up, Sammy.” Dean said, grinning as he opened his own beer. Dean remembered when Dad had given him his first beer it had been after a hunt, much like this, and he’d been about Sam’s age too.

Sam found the whole 'drinking after a hunt' thing predictable. John and Dean had done it quite frequently but kept Sam out of the circle because of him being too young. Of course, that didn't mean that Sam hadn't drank before, but never really with the 'family'. So when Dean offered him a cold one just as Sam settled in with a bowl of hot popcorn and a night of watching B-horror movies, he sat there confused with the beer in his hand, the cool metal sweating against his skin.

He raised an eyebrow at Dean, realizing what was happening here. This was their very own, Winchester style initiation. Sam grinned widely, knowing that in Dean's eyes, he was no longer a kid. Or at least, for tonight. This is how it went. When Dad gave Dean his first beer after a hunt when he had been just fourteen, Dean had become a man in his eyes. It never stopped Dad from whooping his ass every once in a while, sure, but he trusted Dean to take care of a lot more than he had previously been given responsibility with. Hunting had become a full time profession for Dean, and he had become Dad's right hand man and back-up.

Sam wondered if Dean saw Sam as his right hand man, and his back-up now. With a wide smile that was just as gleeful as it was warm, he popped the can, the beer bubbling in response and spilling over his fingers before he took a long drink, sealing the contract.
Around his third can, the popcorn was forgotten. Halfway eaten and the other half spilled all over the living room, Sam was lying on the couch with Dean, his back in contact with Dean's chest as he lay in the 'V' of his big brother's legs. He reached for the fourth can, giving Dean another can as well and popping his own open. The movie wasn't making much sense anymore, and Sam was growing more and more distracted by the feel of Dean's body behind him.

Sam shifted a little, Dean's belt buckle digging into his back and he scooted up a little so that the buckle was now pressed against the small of his back and not in his upper back. Sam sighed, taking a long drink from his can and when it emptied, he threw the beer randomly into some corner of the room.

Dean was warm and hard behind him, thighs strong on either side of Sam's and Sam sighed again, content. He tilted his head back, looking up at Dean's face so close. Sam wasn't drunk yet, no, but he was definitely tipsy. He was drunk just enough to have lost his boundaries, where bad ideas started looking like good ones, where inhibitions melted away and consequences were a myth. And the phase in which he could say what he wanted without fear of rejection or retaliation or taunt, because right now Dean looked like an angel to him.

"Dean..." Sam's words were just a little bit slurred, but he still had control over his speech so he didn't sound too out of it. "I don't say this often... because you... you'll call me a girl," Sam started, reaching down and putting a hand on Dean's thigh, gripping tightly on the hard muscle. "But thank you, dude... for everything... you're an awesome big brother and I love you, Dee-dee." In an unguarded moment, Sam's childhood nickname for Dean slipped out. He had been an odd little kid, unable to say the letter 'n' so he had called Dean 'Dee' and then later Dee-Dee after he had watched one too many episodes of Dexter's Laboratory one Sunday. It had been over ten years since he had called Dean that, and the words felt strange and familiar on his lips at the same time. Sam's hand on Dean's thigh tightened reflexively, a little bit of worry seeping through the alcoholic haze. Dean didn't usually do well with chick flick moments, and he had just told Dean that he loved his big brother, which he had said last time as a toddler convinced he was going to marry Dean when he grew older.

Sam would snort at that now, if he had enough mind for it, but it did notice how.... now, the way they were living together... they sort of were married, weren't they? Only without the sexing, which... okay, yeah, weird... but Dean was hot so it wasn't like it would be a chore or anything. And with all the sleeping around Dean had done, Sam bet Dean really knew how to-

Okay. Even the alcoholic haze couldn't justify that train of thought, and Sam was not inclined to finish it.

After a few beers and a popcorn fight, which Dean declared that he won, they ended up lying sprawled rather comfortably on the couch together. Dean lying with his head pillowed against one arm of the couch his feet hanging off the other end and Sam basically using his chest as a pillow where the younger boy laid sprawled between his legs. Sure, it was a bit of a tight fit, but it was also a rather comfortable one so Dean sure as hell wasn’t about to complain about the arrangement. Sam made a pretty good blanket after all and Dean found himself idly toying with the younger boy’s hair every once in a while during the Ed Wood movie marathon they were currently in the middle of watching.

Dean smiled and took the beer his brother offered him, not hesitating a second popping it open despite the fact that it was his fifth… or maybe sixth, he couldn’t remember… of the night. He was in a really good mood and feeling quite mellow by now, plus the movies got better with every can of beer, so it was a win/win situation in Dean’s book.

He chuckled softly when his brother sucked down his latest beer like a pro and tossed the empty can somewhere in the room. Dean, of course, did the same not one to be outdone by his fourteen year old little brother. The living room was going to be one hell of a mess in the morning, but Dean didn’t really care at the moment. Mainly because he knew he wouldn’t be the one cleaning up, even if Sam didn’t know it yet.

Dean grunted a little when Sam shifted around in front of him, the younger boy’s back and ass rubbing against his groin in the process before his brother finally got settled again. Maybe if he was a little less tipsy right now he’d have cared more about the fact that his little brother’s ass was now pressed quite firmly against his dick, but not necessarily in a bad way, so Dean didn’t ask him to move.

“Hmm?” He replied wordlessly, looking down at the younger boy in his lap when his brother said his name. Sam’s words, not to mention the old childhood nickname that Dean had nearly forgotten, making a warm smile pull at the older boy’s lips in spite of himself.

Yeah, he probably would have normally teased Sam for acting like a chick, but right now he was feeling a little drunk and a lot content so he only wrapped his arms around his brother and gave the younger boy a hug as best he could in this position. “Love you too, Sammy.”

He couldn’t help teasing a little bit though.

“I always knew you’d be a cuddly drunk.”

Instead of taunting him, Dean only hugged him back which made Sam's heart do all sort of crazy dances. He frowned for a moment, wondering when he had started craving this much affection from Dean, but right now the alcohol kept him from thinking too hard and let him enjoy the contact. Then Dean told him he loved him too and whoa... why was his dick standing up at attention now?

Thankfully he wasn't tenting his sweats, being only half hard, and the room was dark... but still. Why was he sporting wood when his big brother told him he loved him? He hadn't done that even when Line had kissed him...

When Dean teased him about being a cuddly drunk, Sam muttered softly that Dean had no idea before he twisted and turned. He figured that if he was lying face to face with Dean, then maybe his erection wouldn't be noticed because it would be pressed into the couch cushions and won't be on display anymore...

He realized the fallacy of that plan when as soon as he turned, in the process rubbing up against Dean and he went even harder he found himself crotch to crotch with his big brother and there was no way Dean couldn't feel that. The intoxicated haze in Sam's mind receded enough for him to be mortified and he slipped off of Dean quickly, swaying a little as he came to stand before finding his balance.

"Uh... I think it's time for bed, I think..." Sam said, pointing to the bedroom before he realized how his words would come across right now. "Not together, I mean..." But wait. He did mean together. "No, I mean yes, together... because I like sleeping with you," wait, that sounded wrong, "I meant sleeping next to you." Sam giggled. "We haven't slept together yet but I'm sure I'd like that too-" and Sam realized he had said that out loud. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Sam rubbed his face, trying to clear the fog of alcohol in his head, hoping he could think clearly. He had a creeping suspicion that he had said some very wrong things, but right now he felt like they weren't that wrong and if he was to kiss Dean right now, Dean wouldn't mind. Luckily, he kept himself from doing just that.

Dean released the younger boy with a chuckle when Sam started wiggling around. Figuring that he’d embarrassed his brother with the hug even though Sam had been the one to start the chick flick moment. He really wished his brother would stop wiggling though, because Sam was putting pressure and causing friction against places that really didn’t need any pressure or friction in this situation.

Then suddenly, and he wasn’t even sure how it happened at this point, Sam was laying on top of him facing him. Their lips barely a breath apart, Sam’s eyes so close to his they were practically all he could see, and they were pressed together down the entire length of their bodies. From chest to… and Sam was hard… or at least getting there. The worst part of it though was when his own traitorous dick began to respond.

Thankfully the… very weird… moment ended and Sam was scrambling off of him like a scalded cat. Leaving Dean laying there on the couch with his legs spread rather obscenely and his cock half hard, blinking stupidly up at his blushing babbling little brother. Maybe if he’d had one or two less beers Dean would have been a little alarmed by what had just happened, but instead he found it enormously funny and burst out laughing.

Really, it wasn’t a big deal though. Sam was fourteen, going on fifteen. Dean remembered at that age he could get hard by rubbing up against a tree. That he had gotten hard too… ok that was a little more disturbing, but it wasn’t like he was ancient or anything. He was a healthy horny teenager, the same as Sam. Besides, he hadn’t gotten laid in a while… a few months at least and that was a really long time for him. Whatever else Sam was babbling about… well… Sam was drunk. So he’d just add getting laid to his list of priorities, and chalk this up to Sam’s first embarrassing drunken moment that he might, or might not, tease the younger boy endlessly about in the morning.

Still snickering, Dean pushed himself up into a sitting position, giving his mortified little brother a half tender half teasing grin.

“Relax, Sammy. No big deal. Yeah, let’s get to bed. No more beer for you tonight.” Dean said as he got to his feet and grabbed the remaining two beers to take to the fridge.

When Dean started laughing, Sam didn't know if he should be offended or relieved that Dean hadn't taken him seriously. He covered his face with his hands, peaking through his fingers to look at Dean sprawled obscenely on the couch, and Sam's dick twitched. It only made Sam blush harder because he couldn't stop staring at the bulge between Dean's legs, remembering how it had felt against his own dick and really, his thoughts had no business going there.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he concluded that Dean had been hard because he liked Sam too. As in, if - and it was a very big if - Sam was attracted to his brother... then possible Dean might be attracted to Sam too...

Maybe. Just maybe.

Sam's face heated up even more as Dean said they were heading to bed, and then told him he was putting a stop to Sam's beers. Sam didn't think either of the two ideas were bad. In fact, he was downright looking forward to curling up next to Dean again tonight.

The horny teenager in his head opted for not jerking off, and instead curling up next to Dean just as hard as he was. The small, tiny voice of the logical Sam spoke up and told him to take care of his problem before getting into bed with the apparent subject of his lust driven mind. The horny teenager piped up hoping that Dean would still be hard when they for into bed, and Sam decided that he was never drinking again. Sam couldn't stop himself from admiring the way Dean's ass looked in his jeans as he walked past to put the beers in the fridge. Sam was so fucked.

He rushed into the bathroom, dropping his sweats and wrapping a hand around his cock with a soft groan. He bit into his lower lip, trying to think of boobs and that one girl, Dana, that Dean had been fucking when Sam had walked in on them. He had hid and watched as Dana had ridden his brother, soft, full breasts jiggling as she writhed on top of Dean's dick. Sam had the perfect angle to see Dean's cock slipping in and out of Dana, the thick, hard flesh pushing into her soft looking pussy lips...

Sam whimpered, his hand speeding up as fantasy and reality merged. He remembered the way Dean had felt against his ass, and then again when they had been groin to groin, lips so close... he thought of Dana with her full breasts and hard nipples... he thought of Dean's hard cock pistoning in and out of her...

When Sam came, his mouth was open and eyes rolled back in his head. It had been the most intense orgasm of his young life, and he opted to focus on cleaning up the mess and washing his hands instead of analyzing exactly why he had gotten off so hard tonight.

He left the bathroom, closing the light behind him before crawling into bed with Dean, throwing a leg over his big brother's hips and wrapping an arm around Dean's chest. He assumed the same position they had slept in for a while now, and closed his eyes. The alcoholic haze was receding, and he was starting to get mortified with his actions and thoughts, but right now he opted for sleeping contentedly next to Dean and saving the freaking out for later the next day. He was too tired to have a sexual identity crisis at the moment.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle again when he heard his brother make his hasty retreat into the bathroom, knowing exactly what Sam was doing in there. And, no, he was not imagining the younger boy jerking off behind the closed door, or wondering what Sam was thinking about while his hand moved over his dick. Probably some pretty little schoolgirl that his brother had his sights on…

Hell, he wondered if Sammy had ever even had a girlfriend yet. Kissed a girl? Had sex? They’d never talked about it. Well, sure, Dean had been present when Dad had given Sam the required sex talk but they certainly didn’t chat about their sex lives. Up until now, Dean hadn’t even really considered Sam even having a sex life and the younger boy had never seemed real interested in his older brother’s sex life either. He’d still kind of thought of Sam in that ‘eww, girls had cooties’ stage.

Not anymore apparently. Sam was growing up, he wasn’t a little kid anymore, and Dean was just really starting to see that. Dean felt a small pang in his heart at the fact that Dad wasn’t here to see it too.

Sighing softly, Dean shut of the TV and lights in the living room, leaving the mess for the morning, and made his way into the bedroom. Sammy was still in the bathroom and Dean decided to save his brother any further embarrassment of having to talk to him or something after he’d just finished jerking himself off. Not that there was anything to be embarrassed over, it was a completely normal thing for a teenager, not to mention a guy, to do.

So Dean stripped down to his boxers and fell into the bed, leaving enough room for his brother as usual. When Sam finally emerged from the bathroom Dean was nearly asleep, tired from the hunt as well as the beers. But he was still awake enough to feel Sam slide into the bed next to him and sprawl half on top of him as the younger boy was prone to doing, not that Dean really minded. He smiled and slipped an arm around his brother, holding Sam close as usual as he fell asleep.

The Winchesters were the masters of repression. Sam knew this. Sam hated this. But now, Sam used that ability so deeply ingrained in his genes to his advantage. He very nearly blocked out that entire night from his consciousness. All he remembered the next morning was a night lying on the couch with Dean watching movies, getting drunk and having a popcorn fight.

Every now and then his coping mechanism would fail, and he would remember a sliver of a memory like the feel of Dean's crotch pressing against his ass, or the way Dean had looked so close to his own face. But it was fleeting and Sam would quickly push it down before his conscious mind could catch up to it and start analyzing it.

Nevertheless, Sam found himself noticing strange things about Dean. Things he had no business noticing. For example, he caught himself watching Dean's ass more times than he liked to think about, or how when he'd be sitting in the living room doing his homework and Dean would be showering in the bathroom, Sam would find himself thinking about the water sluicing down Dean's naked body, the body he had seen several times because of the close quarters they lived in, but now the memories had taken a decidedly sexual turn.

The next few weeks were hell on Sam. He tried to push it down, to make sure not to think about it. He started having a crisis, wondering if he was gay, and in the process to find out if he was, he actively tried to develop a crush on the cute guy in his class. Fortunately, the 'attraction' was mutual and Sam only had to begin to suggest something more than friendship when the boy, Curtis, was pressing up against him, pushing his tongue into Sam's mouth and okay, no, it won't work, and Sam only went along with it for a few moments to see if he could.

He couldn't.

Not when he kept thinking of Dean, and wanting him instead.

He pushed Curtis away, apologized, said that he had been mistaken and that this was a big misunderstanding. He hated the way Curtis looked so crushed, but Sam couldn't do anything about it. Not when he kept wanting to go back home and back to Dean.

He spent way too long obsessing over his own sexuality, or as he had coined one night when drunk by himself, his Deansexuality. He didn't want anyone else. He tried thinking of porn stars, of women with big boobs and shaved pussies and tight pink nipples. He tried thinking of muscular men that looked nothing like Dean, but it didn't work. His fantasies always warped to include a certain green-eyed boy.

He might not know anything about himself anymore, but he knew one thing for sure. Dean could never, ever, ever find out about this. He could never find out about Sam's secret perversions. Sam will take this one secret to the grave. And in the meantime, he'll make sure never to be intoxicated in front of Dean. Who knew what he'd get up to when he was out of his mind?

The nights they spent together, wrapped around each other, were quickly turning to torture for him. Sam wanted Dean too much, and hated himself for it more and more with every day that passed. And that bed was too small to be able to have any sort of a personal space. Sam was starting to spend way too many nights curled up on his side facing away from Dean, nursing a raging hard-on that wouldn't go away with Dean's scent surrounding him.

Sam got crankier and crankier, starting to snap at Dean for touching him, or getting too close. He soon started sleeping on the couch, refusing to let Dean take it when he offered and then throwing a massive tantrum when Dean refused to let Sam sleep on the couch. He started pulling away from him, staying later and later in school after school, getting in with the wrong sort of crowd. He was often found behind the school building under the bleachers sharing pot with his 'friends' because while he sat there smoking, drinking, and sometimes making out with some of the boys, he was almost not thinking about Dean. Almost.

For a while things had been good, hell, great even. Now, everything had gone to shit again, and that was a fucking understatement. Things between him and Sam were worse than ever now, and the worst part of it was that Dean had absolutely no idea what the hell he’d done to piss Sam off so much. At first it was just little things. Like Sam staying late at school and not coming to see him at work anymore. Not that he really blamed the younger boy for the later, because who the hell would want to hang out at that place? But then things had… escalated…

Sam wanted to stop sharing the bed in the bedroom. Again, not like he could really blame the younger boy for that. Sam was almost fifteen years old, after all, not a baby. What teenage boy would want to share a bed with his big brother forever? So Dean had said he would try to get another bed as soon as possible, and they might as well keep sharing until then. Well, Sam hadn’t liked that idea. So Dean had offered to start taking the couch again, and that’s when the younger boy completely blew up at him.

Dean tried to make sense of it, but he just couldn’t, and the way his brother would practically yell at him if he even touched the younger boy lately hurt more than anything. Yeah, he understood that Sam wasn’t a cute and cuddly baby or little kid anymore, but what the hell? The way that Sam snapped at him over every little thing lately he would have sworn his brother was possessed or something. He was getting really fucking tempted to spike Sam’s drink with holy water one of these days just to make sure. He just didn’t understand. What the hell had he done to make Sam hate him so damned much?

He’d just about reached the end of his patience when he took their dirty clothes to the laundry and Sam’s clothes had smelled like pot. Ok, Dean was tolerant about a lot of shit, he’d smoked more than his share of joints too, but on top of everything else? This just wasn’t like Sam. Not at all. The third night in a row he’d come home from late from work and Sam still wasn’t at home, Dean had enough.

Throwing his stuff on the floor by the door, Dean stormed right back out of the apartment and jumped back into the Impala. It actually didn’t take too long for him to find Sam. He found him at school, of course, even though he’d begun doubting whether or not he actually knew Sam anymore. What he hadn’t expected to see was the company his brother was keeping. He definitely wasn’t expecting to see his brother cuddled up with some boy, probably a senior by the looks of it, kissing…

What the fuck!

Dean jumped out of the car, not even bothering to shut off the engine, murder in his eyes. He honestly wasn’t sure if he was more pissed off at the fucking football jock sticking his tongue down his underage little brother’s throat, or Sam for treating him like dirt these last several weeks and then curling up with some fucking football jock, or… for some other reason he didn’t want to define right now.

Sam wasn’t looking at him. Didn’t see him until Dean had ripped the older boy off his brother and punched the bastard so hard he’d probably broken his nose. Not that he gave a shit.

“Sam! Get your ass in the fucking car now!” He yelled, promising there would be hell to pay if his brother even thought of disobeying him.

Sam was having a good time. He had skipped most of his classes that day when Ben had waved a bag of weed in front of him during lunch hour, and Sam had grinned and followed him. He nearly couldn't recognize himself, but when he lost himself in the haze of pot, nothing seemed to matter anymore. Everything looked beautiful and things didn't seem as bad as they were. He had been sharing pot with a bunch of the football jocks for weeks now, and Sam's grades were falling, his attendance was abysmal and he had blown up at a teacher more often than not, but Ben would wave that lovely plastic bag containing the crushed green leaves in front of him and all would stop mattering.

So Sam said fuck it to the Economics class he had and followed Ben to the old storage unit behind the school. There were more of his buddies there, smoking. Jake, Sam liked the best. He was sweet and warm and held Sam gently when it was his turn to make out with him. He also looked the most like Dean. He had the plush lips, the green eyes, the soft blond hair that were just a bit too long, strong arms and a broad chest that Sam loved curling up against. He was a poor substitute, but he let Sam touch him wherever he wanted. The others though, often got too rough with Sam, grabbing at his skin, digging nails in, leaving behind bruises that he'd have to work to keep Dean from noticing. Ben rolled a joint for Sam and gave it to him, who took a long, deep pull of it and pretty much sagged into Ben's arms when the high hit.

Once school ended, they left the smoke filled storage room to go back to the bleachers in the football field. Smoking weed under the sky was infinitely more fun than doing it hidden in a dark, cramped room that smelled of chlorine and bleach.

Tonight was different though. As soon as they reached the bleachers, Brody brought out two sixpacks of beer. Now Sam knew it was a bad idea to mix pot with alcohol, but his weed-addled brain thought it was an awesome idea. So by the time night fell, Sam found himself wrapped up in Ben's arms, Ben's tongue deep in his throat as his hands tried to convince Sam to let them take it further. Sam knew what they wanted. They had been urging him for weeks about it. They wanted a gangbang, with Sam as a receptacle, but Sam refused. He wasn't going to lose his virginity this way.

But tonight, when Ben's hands pushed up under Sam's shirt, he just moaned, the weed heightening his pleasure, and the alcohol lowering his inhibitions. Ben's hand kept exploring Sam's chest, making him writhe and push against the touch, asking for more. Around them, the other three jocks were watching, probably getting off or wanting their own turn, but they kept to themselves. Those were the terms.

Just as Ben's hands started to slip into Sam's jeans, and Sam found himself wanting what Ben was going to do, Ben was ripped away from him and Sam's eyes snapped wide open. Dean stood there, looking furious as he punched Ben hard enough to probably break his nose. Ben started cursing and grabbing onto his gushing nose, but Sam's eyes were all on Dean. Dean, who was beautiful and gorgeous and took care of Sam and loved him. Dean, who Sam wanted in the worst way and couldn't have him.

"What the fuck, Dean?!" Sam yelled, getting to his feet.

Dean just yelled at him to get into the car, but fuck that Sam wasn't going anywhere. He turned to look and Jake had the joint now, and he held his arms up as in invitation to Sam. Without a thought, Sam slipped into his hold, taking the joint from his lips and wrapping his own around it, taking a long pull before passing the joint to Brody. Nobody seemed concerned about Ben, who had somehow managed to staunch the bleeding. Then, keeping his eyes on Dean defiantly, he curled his fingers on the back of Jake's neck and pulled him in for an intense, open mouthed kiss, their tongues meeting before their lips even touched. Still watching Dean even as Jake pretty much pulled Sam into his lap, Sam held up a middle finger to Dean, letting him know exactly what he thought of Dean's 'orders'.

Dean was pretty sure that he’d never been so pissed off in his entire life. ‘Seeing red’ barely covered it. He could suddenly understand why Dad had gotten so pissed off at Sam whenever the younger boy was being stubborn and defiant, but even their father had never had to deal with this. Dean wanted to kill the whole lot of them. Literally kill... well, with the exclusion of Sam. Sam he just wanted to beat the shit out of and shake the younger boy until his head fell off his shoulders or his brother started acting like himself again.

At Sam’s little ‘display’ Dean lost whatever was left of both his composure and patience and he stalked over to the younger boy, grabbing Sam by the hair, and yanked his brother off the other boy by it. Not caring one damned bit feeling several strands of the younger boy’s hair snap in his rough grip. Ignoring any struggles or protests Dean then threw Sam over his shoulder and carried him to the Impala.

The stupid jocks were damned lucky that he was more pissed off at Sam right now than at them, or they would be dead. Sam had seemed to forget one important thing about the Winchesters, they killed things for a living. Dean killed things. And right now those fucking drunk, pot smoking, motherfuckers with their hands all over his baby brother, his fourteen year old baby brother, weren’t people to him. They were things.

Dean dumped Sam on the ground again once they’d reached the car and when he spoke he was a little frightened by the sound of his own voice. How ‘calm’ he sounded as he grabbed Sam by the neck and forced the younger boy to look at him.

“Either get in the car right now, or I’m leaving you here and you’ll never see me again.”

Right now Dean was angry enough to fully follow through on his ultimatum.

Sam had never seen Dean so angry, but he didn't care because he knew Dean never did anything to him. They screamed, yelled, whatever, but Sam never really got punished. Which is why he was so surprised when he felt something yank at his hair, pulling a few from the roots and he gave a sharp yelp of pain and fear. When he saw that it was Dean pulling him back like that... well, saying that he was 'shocked' didn't convey exactly how surprised he was.

"Dean! That hurts! Stop!" Sam yelled, grabbing at Dean's wrist to try and get him to either let go of Sam's hair or at least give a little slack to his abused scalp. Sam started struggling, his slowed reflexes and lack of balance really making him sluggish and useless at a fight. It only got worse when Dean just hauled Sam up and threw him over his shoulder. Sam felt humiliated, and as Dean turned to leave, he looked up at his friends. They looked shell-shocked, standing up slowly and blinking, trying to think past the alcohol and pot-induced haze.

"Jake! Help me!" Sam yelled, catching Jake's eye who swallowed heavily, glancing at Dean's back and then at Sam again. Sam pleaded with his eyes but Jake took a step back. Sam bit into his lower lip, knowing that they wouldn't help, that Dean was too intimidating to them with his display of strength. Sam sagged over Dean's shoulder with defeat just as Dean let him go. The landing wasn't gentle by any means, and Sam felt his tailbone bruise spectacularly. Then Dean was grabbing Sam by the neck, forcing his head back so he could see Dean as he spoke.

“Either get in the car right now, or I’m leaving you here and you’ll never see me again.”

Sam looked up at Dean, anger and fear warring inside him. He wanted to not listen, because he knew Dean wouldn't leave him. Dean loved him too much to do anything like that. But he had also thought that Dean would never physically hurt him, and he had... so maybe it wasn't a good idea to test Dean's patience right now.

Sam took his time, glaring at Dean venomously with his chin jutting out defiantly. He got up, making a show of dusting his jeans off, making Dean wait for his decision and knowing at the same time that the longer Sam took to choose, the angrier Dean would get. He walked past Dean, making sure to bump into him hard, shoving him aside with his shoulder as he got into the passenger seat of the still running car.

"Happy now?" Sam asked, upper lip curled in a sneer. "Jesus Christ you're so fucking dramatic," Sam muttered, crossing his arms and sagging in his seat.

Dean’s fists curled at his sides, his fingernails biting into his palms so deeply he wouldn’t be surprised if he drew blood, as he watched his brother slowly get up off the ground. It was all Dean could do not to smack that defiant angry glare Sam fixed him with right off the younger boy’s face as Sam pushed past him to get in the car.

Dean absolutely hated himself in that moment. Why not? Sam absolutely hated him. But the fact that he’d even think about raising his hand to his brother in anger like that… Not even Dad had ever done that no matter how angry their father got with Sam. John Winchester would put his fist through a wall or window first, break every bone in his hand, before he hit one of his sons. It was all Dean could do not to put a fist through the window of the Impala right now.

When the passenger door of the car finally slammed shut, Dean walked around to the driver’s side and got in. Slamming the door so hard that he actually heard the glass of the window crack but he didn’t really give a fuck right now.

Dean completely ignored his brother sitting beside him as he stepped on the accelerator hard taking them back to the apartment. He had to ignore Sam or he was going to say or do something he knew he would regret for the rest of his life.

When they got back to the apartment, Dean put the car into park but again left the engine running.

“Stay here.” Dean snapped, not bothering to wait for his brother to respond or see if Sam would obey him as he got out of the car. He went up to their apartment quickly, walked straight to the closet where their duffels were kept, and started packing. It took him less than ten minutes to finish, he was well practiced in picking up and leaving at a moment’s notice after all. The weapons were the highest priority of course because they couldn’t easily be replaced. Clothes came next, though honestly, Dean didn’t really care if he forgot a few things. They would deal. Dean left the apartment key on the table and left the door open, their landlord would figure out soon enough they were no longer living there. They were paid up through the month anyway.

When he got back downstairs to the Impala Dean wasted no time throwing their things in the back of the car and getting back in the driver’s seat. Dean didn’t look at Sam, hell, Dean barely even looked in his rearview mirror as he drove out of Winchester California. He should have known better than to ever stop here. Winchester… It had been a sign all right. That place was just as fucked up as they were.

Sam sat there quietly, wondering just how badly he was going to get beaten up once they got to the apartment. Winchesters were no strangers to pain, but anticipation was never a fun thing. Sam kept his eyes down at his feet, hands clasped in his lap as he waited for them to arrive home. But Dean just told him to stay and went into the building himself. Sam sighed, letting his expression show as Dean left. He gingerly pressed two fingers against his stinging scalp, the abused skin giving a twinge. Dean had pulled out more than a couple of hair when he had yanked Sam like that.

Sam hadn't thought Dean capable of hurting him, but he had never seen Dean that angry either.

He sagged further in his seat, resting his head against the door and closing his eyes. Right now he wanted to be back in school, curled up against Ben, or Brody, or Jake and smoking pot and drinking and just having fun. Hell, he was feeling angry enough right now that he would probably let them do anything they wanted.

Sam looked up when he heard Dean come back. Through the sideview mirror, Sam saw that Dean had just thrown their duffels into the trunk. Sam's eyes widened, fear turning to disbelief.

When Dean got into the car, Sam sat up straight. "We can't leave! You can't do this!" Sam snapped. "I don't want to go! Dean!" Sam started panicking, looking at the town he was starting to call home flash by him. "No..." Sam whispered, sad now as he saw the places he had visited, the school and the football field behind it, he saw the park and the grocery store and the library. He didn't want to go. He didn't.

"What are you punishing me for?" Sam asked, clenching his teeth. "For staying out late? I didn't know I had a curfew. For smoking pot? Don't even try to tell me you haven't done that. For drinking? You snuck me my first beer! Or is it because of those guys? Huh? A little homophobic there, Dean?" Sam's lip curled in anger and defiance. "You are the last person to tell me the dangers of sucking cock," he spat at Dean with as much venom as he could muster, "so tell me what I've done wrong enough to get humiliated in front of my friends and then get dragged away from home?"

Dean wasn’t sure whether to feel pleased that he’d obviously chosen the perfect ‘punishment’ for his brother, or even more pissed off that after weeks of treating him like shit that this was all that Sam cared about.

This fucking town.

He almost couldn’t believe that Sam thought this had anything to do with the fact that he’d caught his brother smoking weed, staying out late, and drinking. Sure, Dean had done plenty of that too growing up, pissed his father of royally too, but that was him, not Sam. Sam wasn’t like this. Not the Sam he thought he knew anyway. The Sam he thought he knew didn’t invite a bunch of stupid fuckers to gang bang him either.

He had no idea what the fuck was going on with Sam anymore. He’d tried to figure it out, but Sam refused to talk to him, instead treating him like he was the fucking enemy. If this is what he had to do to force the issue, then so be it.

“Oh, so now you want to talk? Ok, lets talk.” Dean snapped at the younger boy, though he didn’t take his attention off the road and he certainly didn’t let up on the gas pedal.

“Why don’t you start by telling me what the fuck you’ve been punishing me for the past few weeks, huh? You really think I’m pissed off because I found you drinking and smoking pot? I thought you were supposed to be smart or something, Sam. I also thought you had more self respect than letting yourself get gang banged by a bunch of bastards who don’t give a shit that you’re only fourteen and could really hurt you. Hell, I thought you actually respected and loved me, I thought we were together in this, but I guess I was wrong about that too, huh?”

At that, Dean slammed on the brakes so hard the tires screamed and he jerked the wheel hard to bring them to a stop on the side of the road about ten miles out of town.

“You care more about that place? You care more about your fucking statutory raping friends? Fine. Get out. Your choice Sam, I’m going to keep driving with or without you. Me or them. Me or that fucking town. Well?”

Sam wanted to let Dean know that he hadn't slept with them. He was about to, too, but then he stopped. Why bother?

He let Dean scream and snap and screech the car to a halt, and then give him another ultimatum. Sam rolled his eyes, feeling every bit of the pissy bitch Dean accused him of being.

"First of all, it's not statutory rape. The oldest one turns eighteen tomorrow. And it's not like they forced me! Or did you miss the part where I willingly went into Jake's lap?" Sam sneered, fingers curled into fists by his side. "Secondly, it is not about THIS town, it's about HOME. And I'm tired... no not tired, absolutely fucking exhausted of not having roots anywhere!"

Sam reached up, dragging his fingers through his dirty hair and wincing when his scalp twinged. "And as for punishing you. No, I haven't been punishing you," Sam said slowly, like he was talking to a toddler. "You know my world doesn't revolve around you. I'm allowed to deviate. I'm allowed to have other people I care about. I. Am. Allowed. To. Ignore. You. If I want." Sam finished the sentence with a jab of his finger into Dean's thigh with every word.

"And lastly?" Sam said with a deep breath, looking straight into Dean's eyes to show him how serious he was. "You keep asking me to choose between you and something else... you keep giving me ultimatums like that and one day I am going to choose the other option. You can't always win." Sam was suddenly tired, and he was craving home, but Dean had chosen to take them away from there, and Sam was starting to feel the loss of a homebase already.

“Fine.” Dean snapped, opened his door, and got out of the car.

Sam was tired? Well, Dean was fucking tired too. He was tired of busting his ass trying to make Sam happy, trying to take care of his brother, trying to give the younger boy a fucking home, and then getting nothing but the shaft for it.

He walked around to the trunk and opened it, dug out his brother’s duffel, and threw it on the ground by the car.

Dean loved his brother more than anyone, but right now, at the same time, he was so angry he hated him. Sam obviously hated him too. Didn’t want him around anymore for whatever reason, and he was fucking tired of trying to make the other boy happy when it was obviously impossible. Even when he tried to give Sam everything he fucking wanted the younger boy treated him like scum.

He walked around to the passenger door and yanked it open, grabbed the younger boy by his arm, and dragged him out of the car as well. He dumped his brother on the ground just as unceremoniously and slammed the car door again.

“Have it your way, Sam. Because everything has to be your way.” Dean sneered just as hatefully as Sam was speaking to him, then he walked back around to the driver’s side of the car and got in.

He was tired of trying to protect his brother from the world and Sam hating him for it. Sam wanted to be on his own? Sam wanted him gone? Fine.

Sam hadn't expected Dean to grab him and throw him out of the car, but today was turning out to be a day of firsts. He landed on his tailbone one more time, feeling it ache dully from the repeated abuse and Sam looked up at Dean questioningly, confused as to what Dean was going to do now. Surely he won't go and drive away... right?

And Dean did exactly that.

Sam watched Dean get into the driver's seat, eyes wide as he began to realize the full magnitude of what was happening. He watched as the car pulled away from the curb and the tail lights disappeared down the road, kept waiting for Dean to stop and turn around because Dean would never leave him, Dean loved him too much, Dean wouldn't... he couldn't leave... he couldn't.

But Dean was gone, and Sam stood there for another hour or so, giving Dean plenty of time to turn back around, to come and get Sam, but he didn't. So when it started getting too cold, Sam grabbed his duffel and began heading back towards the town. It was a good ten miles away, his high from the weed was starting to wear off and he was feeling downright miserable.

Around mile five, he started crying and was unable to stop. They were mostly just silent tears, but he couldn't hold them back, no matter how many times he swallowed or how many times he wiped his face with the back of his hand. Around mile eight, his quiet crying ceased, but he was starting to feel Dean's absence like a hole in his chest. He wondered how far Dean had gotten by now, and he wondered if Dean was just feeling relieved to be rid of Sam's whiny ass.

He reached the town well after midnight, and it took him another forty minutes to get to their... his apartment. The apartment looked empty, even if most of their things were still here. They always just packed the bare essentials, but just knowing that Dean wasn't here made the apartment look more shadowy, more sinister.

Sam closed the door behind him, and went straight to the bedroom where he sat on the bed and waited. He still held out the hope that Dean would come for him, and he knew that if Dean wanted to find him, the apartment would be the first place he'd look.

He was regretting everything he had done, even if he carried still a healthy dose of anger for the way Dean had attacked him and yelled at him and pretty much asked him nothing but accused him plenty. But mostly he was terrified. His world had shaken below his feet and he realized that if Dean could leave him, then there was nothing he could believe in anymore.