Sam snuggled back against the warm body behind him and felt the arm wrapped around his waist as he slowly began to wake up. He heard footsteps and came awake instantly. He tried to get out of Dean's hold but Dean didn't seem to want to let him go. The footsteps were his mother's and though soft, he still heard them. He grabbed Dean's wrist and tugged hard and managed to roll way from Dean's grip. Dean shifted unhappily and reached out for Sam, making a small sound of complaint. Sam smacked his hand. Dean was now in the middle of the bed, so Sam couldn't very well slide back under the covers. Besides his mom had probably heard the bedsprings squeak. Sam made sure his sweats were on properly, and was stretching and yawning when the curtain was pulled aside.

"Morning," he said sleepily to her. He walked past her and straight into the bathroom and took care of business. He didn't have to go that badly, but he would prefer for his mom to think that's what woke him up. By the time he came back out, his mother was in the kitchen.

"Did you sleep okay?" Keiko asked him.

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Dean's a bed hog. I practically fell out of bed this morning when I woke up I was so close to the edge."

"I think Dean's been here long enough that you can sleep in your own bed tonight."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I think so too. He hasn't had any more nightmares. I'm going to go shower. What's for breakfast?"

"Waffles."

Sam smacked his lips. "Yum. I'll be back down to help in a few."

Relieved his mother hadn't caught them, with Dean's arm around his waist, he breathed a sigh of relief as he got fresh clothes from his room and showered. Least his heart wasn't pounding like an out of control freight train anymore. He returned to the kitchen as soon as he was done and began setting the table.

Dean was having a really good dream, as was evidenced by his half hard cock pressing against a warm thigh that was connected to the equally warm body in his arms. He sighed contentedly, inhaling the scent of Sam’s soap and a bit of sweat that lingered in the younger boy’s hair. He didn’t think he’d ever woken up with someone in his bed, in his arms, before. At least not intentionally, and Dean liked it. He liked it a lot. When he felt Sam press back against him, closing the space between them even further, Dean instinctively held the younger boy a little tighter.

Yeah, a very good dream…

But of course it didn’t last. Sam was pulling away from him… or was he being taken away? That thought caused a spike of panic to be driven into his heart and he held onto the other boy even tighter, but his efforts were proven futile. Someone grabbed him, or maybe it was more than one person, or maybe it was nothing at all, but something held him as Sam was wrenched away from his arms. Sam was calling out his name, his face and voice terrified and pleading with him as he was dragged away. He managed to finally free an arm at least to reach out for Sam but the thing holding him or maybe it was the pain, stopped him from following, from going to Sam’s aid, to stop him from being taken away.

No, no not again. No…

He struggled, he thrashed, but the invisible force wouldn’t let him go. Dean called out for Sam over and over as he fought but there was no answer. At least… no answer from Sam. Suddenly Dean was released and as he fell he swore he saw the flash of yellow eyes in the darkness and heard a cold cruel laugh. In all his previous dreams of the yellow eyed man, he’d never heard him speak, now the voice made every hair on his body stand on end.

He was never yours to begin with.

Dean woke up with a small cry of pain when he hit the floor, still fighting the sheets that had become tangled around him from his thrashing. His heart hammering so loud in his chest it was all he could hear, and panic still pumping hard through his veins when he cried out the younger boy’s name aloud this time.

“Sam!”

The waffles were beginning to smell really good, and so was the bacon. He heard his father getting his shower and figured by the time his dad was in the kitchen, the first of the waffles would be done cooking. His mom was really good like that, always had a knack for having the food ready at just the perfect time.

Sam had just gotten the silverware out of the kitchen drawer when he heard the thump and the cry of his name. Dropping the pile of silverware on the table he was down the hall in a flash, his mother hot on his heels. Sam saw Dean lying on the floor, fighting with the tan sheets that were tangled all about his body.

"Dean, wake up!" Sam practically yelled at him as he rushed to Dean's side. Sam grabbed Dean's shoulders and got an elbow alongside his face as Dean continued to fight to get free of the sheets. Keiko moved up to Dean's head and held his shoulders. Sam managed to get some of the sheets pulled free, releasing Dean's arms but taking a kick to his side in the process.

His cheek already began to feel tight where Dean hit him, but he caught the senior's arms at that point, holding them firmly, wishing his mother wasn't here so he could kiss Dean awake, but also glad she was there to help.

"Dean! Dean, it's okay, you're safe. I'm right here. I'm safe too," Sam said firmly.

It took longer than Dean would have wanted to admit to realize that he was awake, to realize that the nightmare was over. That it had only been another nightmare. That it was plain simple sheets trapping him in place and not the invisible bonds of a demon. That the hands he was fighting against weren’t trying to hurt him, to hold him while Sam was being taken away by the demon, taken away like his mother, like his father, had been taken from him. That Sam wasn’t calling to him for help… but to wake up…

Dean stilled suddenly, breathing heavily, his face and body drenched in sweat. He stared up at Sam, almost like he’d never seen him before, blinking a few times. Then he began to shake. Trembling so hard his teeth practically rattled inside of his head.

He didn’t think about what he was doing when he suddenly sat up, the hold on his shoulders having relaxed when he’d stilled, and wrapped his arms around the younger boy. Dean was still shaking even as he held Sam tight.

“Not going to let him take you… not again…” Dean barely realized he was speaking over and over.

Sam hugged Dean back after a moment and gave his mom a helpless if confused look. "Nobody's taking me anywhere. I'm right here."

He couldn't believe how soaked with sweat Dean was or the way he was trembling in Sam's arms. And the way Dean was holding on to him, like someone was going to just rip him away from Dean. It was actually tight enough Sam couldn't really take a deep breath. He ran his hand through Dean's hair. "It's okay Dean," he soothed.

Giving his mother a nod, he indicated that he had this and she could leave. There was food cooking after all. And he really wanted to be alone with Dean. His mother nodded back and rose to her feet. "You let me know if you need anything," she told him softly.

Holding Dean nearly as tightly as Dean was holding him, he tried to reassure him. "Eric's not here and I know you won't let him get his hands on me. I have faith you'll protect me. It was just a really bad dream. That's all. You're awake and I'm here and it's all going to be fine. Mom's even making us waffles."

It seemed to take forever for the panic to fade. Even though it really could only have been a few minutes. But thanks to Sam’s soft words and soothing touches Dean’s heart finally began to slow, he gradually stopped shaking like a leaf in the storm, and he could breathe without feeling like he was being choked by an invisible hand. Slowly, Dean lessened his grip around the younger boy, knowing his hold must be painful, but he didn’t let go of Sam completely. The fear was still there, sharp and tasting like death.

Those eyes… that voice… So real, it had all felt so real. The terror he had felt was certainly real. But it was just a dream… right? It had to be just another fucking nightmare… but Sam dreamed about yellow eyes too. There was no reason for Sam to dream about yellow eyes. The same yellow eyes that haunted his nightmares, belonging to a demon that had killed his family… What if the yellow eyed demon was really after Sam?

Eric… Sam thought Dean had been dreaming about Eric. Fuck… Dean didn’t know if he should be grateful or not that Sam only thought this was about that bastard. Should he tell Sam? But what if it was just another stupid nightmare, Dean didn’t want to scare Sam needlessly. Especially when Sam had his own nightmares to deal with.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally releasing Sam enough so that he could pull back and look at the younger boy, Dean gave him a sheepish look.

“Sorry… didn’t mean to freak you out. Guess this is really ruining my bad ass image, huh?” Dean tried to joke, even managing to give the younger boy a shaky smile.

It seemed to take forever for Dean to calm down, for the trembling of his muscles to ease and finally disappear. Sam took a discretely deeper breath when Dean finally relaxed his hold on him. He didn't understand how a nightmare about Eric could have shaken Dean so completely. Even if Eric had put Dean on the ground with that targeted punch, it just didn't seem to fit Dean's psychological make-up to be that freaked out over it. Maybe it was just because Dean was laid up and had to trust his cousin to look out for Sam. If Dean had been that worried, he knew, just knew, that Dean would have insisted Sam stay home.

"You pretty much ruined your bad-ass image with me a long time ago," Sam teased Dean gently. "I know you're a sucker for a pretty face and hot ass."

Sam carefully extracted himself from Dean's arms. "C'mon, let's get you untangled," he said and began to pull at the sheets. "I want to check your side too and make sure you didn't rip any of your stitches again."

With Dean's help, they disentangled his body and then Sam peeled back the bandage carefully. "Some fresh blood seeping, but no ripped stitches," he said with relief. "Still, let me clean it and put on a fresh bandage. You know, I'm beginning to think you like it here so much you don't want to leave, the way you keep hurting yourself. Either that or you like Mom's cooking and us catering to your every whim. Just stay put while I get the antibacterial rinse."

Sam hurried to the bathroom and returned almost as fast with a handful of supplies. After wetting down a four by four with the antibacterial wash, he gently patted at Dean's side, cleaning away the blood, smeared antibiotic cream over the wound, then replaced the bandage with a fresh one. "Okay, humpty-dumpty. You're in one piece again. You want me to get Dad to help you back into bed, or do you just want to have me help you up? How are you feeling?"

Dean rolled his eyes a little when Sam informed him he’d already pretty much ruined his bad ass image already. The older boy couldn’t even really deny it either. He also couldn’t deny the younger boy’s comment about him being a sucker for a pretty face and hot ass, so Dean merely grinned at Sam. Letting his eyes travel down the length of Sam’s body and giving the boy a long lingering look for emphasis. Dean was definitely a sucker for Sam.

He nodded slightly when Sam offered to help him get untangled and by then Dean was feeling better enough to feel a little embarrassed about having rolled out of bed during a nightmare. Sam’s mom had come in with the younger boy too to help him calm down. Yeah, definitely ruining his image. Dean sighed softly.

Dean nodded again and let the younger boy check the bandage on his side, his relief mirroring Sam’s when he saw that he hadn’t done any new damage. Fuck, he did not want to have to go back to the hospital to get re-stitched again. He definitely didn’t want to keep hurting himself, that was for damned sure. Despite his ‘bad-ass’ reputation, he didn’t enjoy pain. Dean rolled his eyes a little again at Sam’s comment about him wanting to stick around for his mother’s cooking. Though he couldn’t really deny he kind of liked having Sam around for his every whim.

“Not going anywhere.” He informed the younger boy when Sam told him to stay put. Even if the floor wasn’t exactly comfortable, Dean wasn’t ready to try to get up yet. He hurt like a bitch from the obvious pulling of his side when he’d been thrashing around in the nightmare. When Sam returned and started tending to the wound though, Dean did his best not to flinch, not wanting to worry the other boy even more.

Dean snorted a little at the humpty-dumpty remark. Sam better not start calling him that or he might have to seriously noogie the younger boy. He thought a moment about Sam’s offer to get his father to help him up, then shook his head.

“I think I can get up. It could be worse.” Dean replied as he started to push himself up a little. It was time he started doing things for himself again.

Sam saw the determined set of Dean's jaw and the way Dean steeled himself as he started to move and knew Dean wouldn't stop until he had either hurt himself or made it onto the bed. Dean was so freaking stubborn.

"Don't push too hard, You side is bleeding," Sam cautioned as he gripped Dean's arm and, watching him closely, helped pull Dean up enough to be able to sit on the bed.

He could see in the senior's eyes that he was still badly shaken by his nightmare. Since Dean had another nightmare, Sam didn't figure his mother would complain about him sleeping with Dean again. If he could get Dean to wear the dream bag, he was certain it would help.

Once Dean was sitting on the bed, Sam helped Dean slowly scoot back so he was sitting up, leaning against the cushions. After pulling up a blanket to cover Dean, he quickly retrieved a damp cloth from the bathroom and began wiping Dean's sweat-coated face down. "And I thought I had impressive nightmares. I don't usually end up on the floor anymore, though I can remember hiding under the bed after a couple of mine when I was younger. Mom would have to coax me out." He leaned in and planted a light kiss on Dean's lips. "You want to talk about it?" Sam asked quietly. "The therapist always said it was helpful to talk about them, even if you only remembered a little bit. Took a long time but she finally got me over some of my worst fears in the real world and that's helped keep the nightmares away. Mostly."

Dean rolled his eyes a little at Sam’s concerned words. Not that he didn’t appreciate the concern, it was just he was tired of being an invalid. He needed to start fending for himself again.

Still, he didn’t argue against Sam’s help getting him back into bed. Dean was actually glad that Sam was still here. He didn’t really want to admit just how much that dream had shaken him, but unfortunately it was pretty obvious. Considering he’d ended up on the floor… how fucking embarrassing. He was a hunter, god damn it, not some scared little kid in the dark.

When Sam mentioned it, Dean tried not to blush but he knew he wasn’t successful. Well, at least he hadn’t ended up under the bed. Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look at Sam in the face again if that had happened. It was hard enough now.

Though Dean certainly felt sympathy for the little boy Sam had been, hiding under his bed in fear until his mother coaxed him out. Dean wasn’t sure he could admit to Sam that he had done similar things as a child. How he had hid under beds, in corners, inside closets, shaking in fear through the night, and refusing to come out in the morning. Kicking, screaming, and biting when first doctors and then later various foster parents finally lost patience and tried to drag him out.

Those were the ‘good’ nights. The bad nights he’d wake them up screaming bloody murder all through the night until they finally got fed up. In the beginning they just sent him back to the orphanage or off to another foster home. As he grew up others tried drugging him, or even gagging him to keep him quiet. He’d been yelled at for his nightmares. He’d been beaten. His last foster home… well, the husband had his own methods.

Dean hadn’t even realized he’d become lost in memories until he felt the soft kiss Sam pressed to his lips. He offered Sam a thankful smile, but shook his head at the younger boy’s offer. The last thing Dean wanted to do right now was talk about it, even with someone who understood better than most, he still couldn’t tell Sam everything. He didn’t even want to.

“No, I’m ok. Don’t worry. Thanks though. What’s for breakfast?” Dean finally asked, changing the subject.

Sam could still see the sheen of sweat on Dean and his pupils were the size of saucers from the adrenaline. Sam ran his fingers soothingly through Dean's sweat soaked hair, but was glad to see Dean had stopped trembling.

"Hah," Sam snorted softly. "You don't have to be all macho for me, you know, but whenever you're ready to talk about it…I'll listen. And I know you don't think so, but I think you're doing a great job of protecting me from Eric. He's not going to 'take me,' not with you watching my back. I know it's gotten off to a rocky start, but we're both learning what that sneaky bastard's capable of. It's just been a sharp learning curve. And I have to learn to watch your back too." He kissed Dean again, this time a bit more forcefully, letting his tongue dart into Dean's mouth, but not letting it last. He could see Dean's disappointment when he pulled back.

"Mom and Dad might come check on you anytime right now," Sam told him. "And that would just be awkward."

He really did want to spend more time kissing Dean, hoping it would soothe and reassure the teen he now thought of as his boyfriend. Dean was so damned handsome, he still couldn't get what Dean saw in him. He didn't think Dean would be as caring acting as he was if Dean was just hoping for some tail. Then again, Eric had been just as nice and friendly to him. But after the way Eric acted when Sam turned him down, and the things he had said to him, Eric was just a class A creep. Dean was anything but.

He finally remembered Dean's question. He had told him once, but Dean was still in the aftermath of his nightmare so he wasn't surprised Dean didn't remember. "We're having waffles for breakfast. We have some blueberries to put on them if you'd like. Are you ready to eat? I was going to see if you wanted to try to come out to the table, but I bet you're too sore now, huh?"

Dean couldn’t deny he enjoyed the feeling of Sam’s fingers running through his hair, even though he knew it had to be pretty gross at this point. Being all sweaty and Dean hadn’t taken a shower for a couple of days at this point. Yup, pretty damn gross. The younger boy didn’t seem to mind so much at least, but Dean decided he really needed a shower at this point. Before he really started to reek.

He wanted to give Sam a smile when the younger boy went on to reassure him that he thought Dean was doing a good job of protecting him from Eric. That he knew Dean wouldn’t let Eric take him… He wanted to, but he couldn’t even force one to his lips.

First of all, it was a lie. The only thing Dean had done was get himself put in the hospital twice. Dean could walk away from fight against a black dog with only a knife without a scratch but that fucking bastard had managed to put him in the hospital. He was stupid and he was sloppy and there was no fucking excuse for it. If he didn’t get his head out of his ass, then next it would be Sam in the hospital or worse…

Second… it wasn’t even the thought of Eric getting his hands on Sam that had caused his recent little panic attack. God… he hoped it was nothing. Just a combination of the nightmares he’d had all his life and worry over Sam’s well being. He hoped… Fuck, he wished Bobby was here. Then he could at least talk to someone about what he’d seen in his dream without being told he was fucking nuts. Well… Sam probably wouldn’t call him fucking nuts, but he didn’t want to scare the poor boy either. Especially if it was nothing…

Sam kissing him again took him a little bit off guard, but Dean quickly returned the kiss, a small sound of complaint escaping his lips when they parted. Over too damned quick in his opinion but he knew Sam was right. Definitely not a good idea.

“Yeah, awkward.” Dean agreed, even though he thought it was an understatement of the century. Waffles. Right, Sam had mentioned that before, hadn’t he? Waffles sounded pretty damned good right now.

“Yeah, I’m hungry.” The older boy replied with a nod. Though when Sam mentioned at the possibility of him eating at the table, he was torn. While he didn’t want to be treated like an invalid anymore, he also didn’t really want to do the whole breakfast with the family thing. He wasn’t sure he could deal with it on the heels of that nightmare.

“I’ll eat here.” Dean finally answered. Of course Sam could eat with his parents if he wanted to. “I think I’ll need a shower after breakfast.”

Sam sighed to himself. He wished Dean would join them at the table. Still, Dean was pretty shaken and the last thing he really needed was sitting with a couple strangers talking about stuff he had no interest it or didn't know anything about, or having his parents focus their attention on him. He had the distinct feeling Dean didn't like to be the center of attention.

Maybe he could corner Dean later and try to get some of the nightmare out of him. He was certain Dean would do better if he talked about it…unless…what if it was about the yellow eyed demon, Azazel? That was what Dean's nightmare had been about at Bobby's. And what he thought the nightmare that Dean had earlier had been about. Was he dreaming the demon was trying to take Sam? He shuddered at the idea. He remembered the dream he had about Yellow Eyes just the other day, and cringed. No, he didn't like that idea at all.

He wanted to ask Dean if it was Yellow Eyes and not Eric, but really decided he didn't want to know. He would rather assume it was Eric, though he did find it kind of hard to believe Eric could shake Dean up like that. The way Dean was so upset it was like at Bobby's…

Nope, just not going there.

"Okay, I'll get breakfast and bring it in," Sam said, pushing the ugly possibilities out of his head. "Uhm, yeah, a shower would probably be good, but that means climbing stairs. Do you think you're up to that? You could always use the sink in the bathroom if you're not. It's not a great solution but if you can't do stairs it's better than nothing."

Dean gave Sam a nod when the younger boy said he’d bring in his breakfast for him. Really, he could definitely get used to this whole breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed thing. At least, if it was Sam bringing him his meals and the reason he was in bed was for more recreational purposes instead of him being laid up.

When Sam mentioned the stairs though, Dean mentally winced. He hadn’t thought of that. Oh joy. That was going to be fun, considering he felt like an old man just walking from the den to the bathroom to piss. But he really did need a fucking shower by this point and he wasn’t going to get better if he didn’t start pushing himself.

“Stairs shouldn’t be a problem.” Dean answered, waving off the younger boy’s concern. Yeah, he might have already completely ruined his image with Sam, but he could at least pretend otherwise. And if push came to shove he could always have Sam help him up the stairs, though he’d like to avoid that option if he could. If Sam wanted to help him in the shower however… that was another story.

“You can help me in the shower, though.” The older boy offered, giving Sam a playful wink.

Sam was glad Dean was willing to try to climb the stairs, though that he was willing to take on the stairs but not join them at the dining room table sort of annoyed Sam.

"I think me helping you in the shower might be a little hard to explain," Sam said but then realized Dean might need help getting in and out of the bath tub, especially after climbing the stairs. "I'll help you get in and get out though." He gave Dean a playful glare, "And I don't mean that the way I know you're going to take it. So don't get any ideas."

Sam got up. "It's really great you're feeling good enough for the stairs. Guess that means you'll be up to sitting out at the table tonight. Mom's making stew. Dad's talking bar-b-que chicken tomorrow, corn on the cob, and homemade ice cream. Leftovers this next week are going to be awesome. Lasagna, Stew, bar-b-que." He smacked his lips at the thought. He grinned at Dean. "That's what we usually do. Cook big meals on the weekends then eat the leftovers during the week with a few cooked meals that I usually make. Since I've been at your place, Mom's been doing the crock pot route for her and Dad. Though she did mention making some meatloaf to send over to Bobby's for us to have a meal one night.

"So, you want blueberries on your waffles?"

Of course it was too much to hope that Sam could come up with a convincing way to explain to his parents why they were in the shower together, but Dean could hope couldn’t he? Apparently not, Sam pretty much killed that idea and Dean put on an exaggerated pout that was only half faked.

Of course when Sam started giving him shit about eating dinner with his family, Dean’s expression changed to one of genuine annoyance. What the hell? He’d ‘made nice’ with his mother yesterday. He’d done his best not to annoy his parents or get in their way. Sam’s parents certainly didn’t seem all that disappointed with him not joining them for dinner, so what did Sam care?

What, were they going to feed him bread and water from now on unless he joined in ‘family time’? Dean highly doubted that, but that’s certainly the way Sam made it sound. Like he was trying to bribe him with the promise of food, or none unless he agreed. Even knowing that’s probably not what Sam meant at all, Dean still didn’t appreciate it too much.

“Sure, whatever.” Dean answered Sam’s question a little sullenly. Wondering how likely it would be after his shower he could convince one of Sam’s parents to take him home.

He wasn’t comfortable here. He seriously doubted that Sam’s parents actually wanted him here, despite the fact they’d offered to put him up while Bobby was away. Well, Sam’s mom had offered, Sam’s father hadn’t wanted him here that was for sure, but he’d gone along with it. Not to mention that since he’d been here he’d had two of the worst nightmares he’d had in a while about the Yellow Eyed demon. Sure, he’d had one a few days ago at home too, but Dean still thought it would probably be better for everyone if he left.

Especially if Sam was going to start pushing him… and he didn’t want to argue with the younger boy.

Sam furrowed his brow at Dean's tone. Why did Dean act like it would kill him to join his parents for dinner? He really figured Dean would be wiped after the stairs and shower anyhow and really was just giving him shit. But Dean got all pissy about it. Sam missed eating with his parents, talking and stuff. He enjoyed being with Dean a whole lot, but he really hadn't seen a whole lot of his parents since he started going to the stupid school, so the weekends was really the only time to catch up. Though he guessed it would be really boring for Dean, listening to his parents talk about work and whatever else happened to come up in conversation.

He'd stop pushing, but he was going to eat with his parents at least once this weekend, whether Dean joined them or not. He'd leave the decision up to Dean. He was tired of trying to pull teeth to get Dean to at least try to get to know his parents. He couldn't help but wonder why Dean was so resistant to the idea.

"Sorry," Sam said, though he couldn't quite keep the frustration out of his voice. "I won't ask again. I guess it would be boring for you anyhow. I'll go get breakfast."

Heading out to the kitchen, he filled them each a plate and carried them back in to the den, then got them both some juice to drink.

“Way to go, Winchester.” Dean muttered to himself when Sam left the room, obviously upset, and he supposed he couldn’t even really blame the younger boy. Sam didn’t understand, and Dean really couldn’t really explain it to the other boy without revealing way more about his past than he ever told to anyone, even Bobby.

Sam couldn’t possibly understand the twisting knife of pain in his heart just being here caused him, the memories it stirred inside of him. Memories of soft blonde hair and the sweetest loving voice singing him to sleep. Memories of the strongest arms he’d ever known, wrapping around him gently holding him and Dean knew they would protect him from anything. A home. A family. A mother. A father. A brother… A life… all taken away from him in one night of fire, screams, smoke, and blood…

For many months afterwards there had been hospital halls, doctors, medication, and pitying looks, therapists that tried to ‘help’ him but only confused him because they would not believe him. After some time even the most patient seemed to become frustrated with him, telling him to stop lying if he ever wanted to see his brother again. It was only when he started telling them the lies they wanted to hear that he was finally put up for adoption.

But they had lied to him. He never saw his baby brother again. Sammy had been adopted and all records of his adoption lost in a terrible fire. Sammy was gone and he was alone. He went from foster home to foster home. Places just like this. People pretending to love him, pretending to care, but it was all lies. He was too difficult, too rebellious, always talking about crazy things like monsters with yellow eyes, always waking up screaming in the middle of the night. So they yelled, they hit, they put him on drugs and locked him away, until finally they gave him up. Over and over just one bit lie. No one loved him. No one cared about him. No one ever would…

It was a difficult lesson to learn, but it was a lesson he learned well right before he ran away from his last alcoholic pedophile foster father… Maybe the Colts weren’t like that, maybe they were, but Dean didn’t really care. He didn’t care about them and they didn’t care about him. It was a simple fact and he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. He’d promised Bobby he’d be civil, and he had been. He’d promised Bobby he’d be ‘charming’ and he’d even kind of been that too. He’d never promised he’d be a part of ‘family time’ and he wasn’t about to. On top of everything else… he just couldn’t deal with that right now.

Well, he supposed it didn’t matter much now. It seemed he’d worn out his welcome and the last thing he wanted was for Sam to get tired of him. When Sam returned with his plate, Dean took it with a small nod of thanks and started silently picking at it more than actually eating any of it. When he figured he’d picked at it enough he set the plate aside and took a drink of the juice Sam had brought him.

“I’m gonna go take a shower. I remember where the bathroom is.” Dean told the younger boy before he pushed back the bed covers and push himself up. Once he finished his shower Dean decided he’d call a cab to take him home.

Sam felt awkward sitting in silence with Dean. He ate about half his breakfast but had sort of lost his appetite. He saw that Dean only took a bite or two of his own even though he made it look like he had eaten a lot more of it by pushing things around and cutting it up and squishing it.

He didn't understand it. Why was Dean so damned resistant to spending any time with his parents? They weren't ogres. They were the best, usually. There were times, sure that Sam and his parents got into it. Mostly him and his dad. His dad was really stubborn and his mom said he took after his dad. His mom always managed to get him to do stuff even if he didn't want to. His dad tended to just order him to do stuff and not give him any slack about when. If a show he was watching was ten minutes from being over, his dad didn't care. His mom would let him finish watching the show. It wasn't real often him and his dad fought, and really, mostly, he just got pissed and his dad got pissed and they didn't talk to each other for an hour or two. Then his mom would do something and make it better and they were all a family again…even if he and his dad were still a little pissed at each other. The biggest issue was that his dad didn't listen to him if his dad was set on something. Like the school. At least his dad got it now and they were finally on the same page.

He was surprised when Dean pushed himself up and announced he was going to get his shower. He implied he didn't want or need Sam's help. Dean wanted to be a tough guy about the whole thing. Dean was an idiot at times.

Even though he was tempted to let Dean go ahead and climb the stairs by himself, he knew Dean would do it, no matter how much it hurt him.

"Okay," Sam said. "I'll go get Dad to help you up the stairs and I'll take your duffel up."

Dean was proud that he’d only winced a little bit when he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the couch bed. It was probably a good thing he was facing away from Sam when the younger boy made his announcement that he’d get his father to help him up the stairs. So Sam couldn’t see the scowl on his face.

The younger boy might be naïve, but he certainly wasn’t obtuse. He’d basically told Sam that he didn’t need any help, and the other boy simply ignored it. He could take care of himself, god damn it. He didn’t need their help.

Instead of answering the other boy, Dean pushed himself up from the edge of the bed. One hand pressed to his wounded side and the other using the edge of the table for support. This time he managed to completely suppress the urge to wince in pain.

So far so good.

He might not be able to carry his whole bag up the stairs but he should be able to manage a few things he’d need. Easier said than done. Bending down to unzip his duffel bag was a lot harder than he thought it would be. First he had to let go of the table, then he had to bend over without simply falling over and landing on his head.

The wave of dizziness that accompanied the pain when he did so certainly didn’t help matters. But at least he managed to grab a shirt, jeans, and underwear and other things he’d need for his shower out of his bag without falling over or puking. He was really glad he’d only had a few bites of breakfast by the time he was done.

Sam watched Dean being a stubborn ass and shook his head as he folded his arms across his chest. Dean was anything but steady on his feet and when Dean bent over and nearly toppled over in an effort to get the things he wanted for his shower, Sam took a step toward him. Dean was being all pissy about it and Sam didn't get it. Why did Dean find it so hard to accept help? He was afraid to insist on helping Dean with the way Dean was acting though and so was torn. If he called his dad in and Dean exploded, that wouldn't be good. But he was afraid the same thing would happen if he moved forward to help. If Dean fell and hurt himself more, Sam was going to feel like shit, but he really didn't know what to do. Maybe Dean just needed to try this for himself, proved that he could do it. The senior certainly wasn't the type to accept anything but self-sufficiency, but didn't he realize he was just hurting himself needlessly?

Sam chewed on his upper lip, indecisive. Dean could probably make it to the door unaided.

"Okay. I'll take the dishes out to the kitchen," Sam said. That would give Dean a chance to maybe gather himself and realize he did need help. He gathered their plates and glasses and stacked the trays on top of each other.

"I'll be right back. If you…decide you want some help, tell me. Please," Sam said softly, and left with the trays. He just didn't know what else to do.

Dean didn’t say anything as Sam left. Mostly because he was afraid his voice would sound too strained and Sam would insist on giving him the help he didn’t need. He had done a hell of a lot more on a hunt a hell of a lot more injured than this, he could handle a set of stairs and a shower, god damn it. At least the younger boy had finally gotten the hint and left him to do this for himself.

The older boy took a few moments to steady himself. Breathing deeply through his nose and out his mouth. Pushing down the pain. Forcing himself to concentrate. He rolled up his shampoo, razor, and other items in his shirt and jeans to make it easier to carry under one arm, leaving the other free to catch himself if he needed to.

Determined to be well on his way upstairs before Sam returned from taking care of their dishes, Dean started to make his way out of the den and down the hall towards the stairs as quickly as he could. He refused to let himself limp too badly, acknowledging the pain only made it worse after all. He only had to reach out and steady himself against the wall two or three times. Really, bending over had not been a good idea. But he made it to the stairs.

So far so good.

Holding onto the banister with a white knuckled grip, Dean started up the stairs.

Sam took the trays out to the kitchen, emptying the glasses into the sink and putting them in the dishwasher, then scraping the remains of the mostly untouched breakfast into the trash. After rinsing the dishes off he put them into the dishwasher too.

"Dean's going upstairs to take a shower. Just so you know," he said, turning to face his parents.

Jim pushed himself to his feet. "Okay, let's get him upstairs then."

Sam shook his head but looked miserable. "He doesn't want any help. I can't get him to join us at the table to eat. Whenever I bring it up he gets upset. And now he won't let me or you help him upstairs. I…don't understand."

"I don't think he's ever had a family," Keiko said, getting up and going to Sam. "Not really. Or if he did, I don't think it was a good experience. He isn't used to being taken care of. This is hard for him. He doesn't trust us. He doesn't trust anyone. That's not going to suddenly change, honey. Just go make sure he doesn't fall down the stairs, but let him make his own way up."

"What if he falls and hurts himself?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Then we'll be there to help him back up. Go on."

"Keiko--" Jim began.

She shook her head. "He needs this. Sam can catch him, then you can go help if that happens." She turned to her son. "Once he's done with his shower, offer him your bed to rest in for a bit. He's going to be pretty worn out. When he falls asleep, come back down and get started on your chores. When he's up to it, bring him back down to the den and you two can get your homework done so you don't have to do that tomorrow."

Sam gave a nod and hugged his mom. "Thanks." He glanced over at his father and gave a smile and a nod.

"Anyone ever tell you you're amazing," Jim said as he watched Sam head back to the stairs.

"Not often enough," she said, laughter in her eyes.

Dean was almost proud of himself. Ok that was a lie. He was actually pretty damned pissed off at himself. He couldn’t even make it up one fucking flight of stairs by himself. He only made it half way up the stairs before he broke out in a cold sweat and his muscles started trembling from the exertion. His ankle, that had been fairly well behaved the past couple of days, had begun to protest almost right away sending pain up his whole leg. It was like he could suddenly feel every fucking bruise he’d gotten when the car had hit him all over again, and of course every step seemed to pull at his side a little more painfully.

That was when Dean stopped. Breathing heavily as he stood on the fifth or sixth step, he’d lost count, to rest a moment. Holding on to the railing even tighter and willing his legs not to simply give out underneath him.

He could do this, god damn it. It was just a twisted ankle and a stupid cut. Not even life threatening. Dean knew the fact that the stitches had been torn out once made it worse, but that only pissed him off more rather than comforted him. Considering that wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let his guard down with Eric.

Stupid fucking move on his part. One of many he’d made. This never would have happened if he’d just been paying attention in the first place.

In the middle of berating himself Dean heard a sound down the hallway and turned to see Sam standing there. He’d half expected to see the younger boy’s father with him, but Sam was alone. Dean didn’t say anything, instead turning his attention back to the stairs and forcing himself to move again. It was only a few more stairs. He didn’t need help.

Sam leaned against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, ready to dash up them if Dean started to sway. He could see the exertion Dean was under, see his white knuckles, see the sweat, see how he trembled.

"Just so you know, it pisses me off you won't let us help. Mom said you don't trust us. That you need to do this for yourself. Obviously you can, so what are you trying to prove?" Sam huffed, not expecting an answer. It was purely rhetorical anyhow. He bounded up the stairs when Dean was near the top and slipped by him and into the bathroom across from his bedroom. He turned on the water to get it warming up, and pulled a fresh towel and washcloth out of the linen closet. He put the toilet lid down so Dean had a place to sit if he needed it.

He had told Dean he would help him in and out of the shower, or else he would just let the stubborn teen do that on his own, too. He reached in and felt the water, adjusting the temperature a bit. He simply waited patiently for Dean. If Dean wanted help he could fucking ask for it, even though Sam knew Dean wouldn't even if it killed him.

Dean didn’t respond to Sam’s angry words, and apparently the younger boy didn’t expect an answer which was just as well since he didn’t have one. What was he trying to prove? That he didn’t want or need their help. That he could take care of himself. That he could go home. Take your pick.

The older Dean didn’t say any of that, however, merely clenched his jaw letting his own anger flare at Sam’s words and help fuel his determination. When he heard Sam start up the stairs he tensed, but the younger boy didn’t touch him, he simply pushed past him. For a moment Dean had to tighten his grip on the banister when it nearly slipped and his knees almost gave out. He knew Sam wasn’t trying to send him tumbling back down the stairs, even though that had nearly been the result. Dean certainly wasn’t going to tell the other boy that either, instead glaring daggers at Sam’s retreating back.

Once Dean reached the top of the stairs he had to lean against the wall for a moment, breathing heavily while he caught his breath. Even though he’d done it he certainly didn’t feel like celebrating. He didn’t really feel much like having a shower anymore either, even though now he really did need one considering how he was sweating.

Dean heard the water running in the bathroom and muttered a few choice curses about meddling boyfriends under his breath before he forced himself to move again. Even though it was less work walking a straight path rather than up, he was exhausted and it took him longer than he would have liked to make it to the bathroom.

Sam didn’t look any more pleased, and Dean met the younger boy’s glare evenly.

“I’ve got it.” He told Sam as he tossed his things down on the edge of the sink. Dean wondered briefly how Sam would take the news that he was going home after this… probably not well.

Dean looked like hell by the time he finally practically staggered into the bathroom. He looked pissed too. Sam wanted to hug him, to yell at him, to slap him upside the head, all at the same time.

With Dean's words, Sam merely nodded, not sure what would come out of his mouth if he opened it to say anything. He left the teen alone, closing the bathroom door behind him and went to his bedroom. He quickly picked up his room then went to the computer and printed out the couple pictures he hadn't yet and put them in the scrapbook. He listened for Dean the whole time, horribly afraid the teen was going to fall and crack his skull open or something. Dean would be injured yet again because of Sam.

This just fucking sucked.

He picked up the scraps of paper he had trimmed from the photos and such and pitched them in the trashcan, closed down the photo program he was using, and then his the scrap book in the bottom drawer of his dresser. It wasn't done yet, but with a couple more pictures and some write ups, it wasn't far off. At least maybe the scrapbook would cheer the senior up, when Sam finally finished it.

Pulling back the covers on the bed, he fluffed the pillow and got it set up for Dean. For the way he had looked, his mom had been right. There was no way Dean was going to be able to make it back downstairs without getting some rest.

The fact that Sam left the bathroom without any comment whatsoever made Dean raise an eyebrow in surprise. He wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for it or worried. Was it because the younger boy didn’t want to argue, or was it because Sam didn’t care enough to argue? Well, it was too late to worry about that now, wasn’t it?

Dean sighed under his breath and started the slow painful task of stripping off his clothes. In the end he had to sit down on the toilet seat or risk losing his balance as he struggled out of his shirt and pants. Taking off the bandages covering his wounded side was ‘easier’ but no more pleasant. The worst part came when he had to take off the ankle brace, he’d already been wearing it for a while now and it was starting to smell, getting it wet would only make it worse. Bending still wasn’t a good idea though and by the time Dean straightened he was more than a little light headed.

He had to remain sitting on the toilet seat for a few more minutes before he trusted himself to stand again. No longer able to put any weight on his twisted ankle, he wasn’t sure how the hell he was going to get into the shower after all. Maybe he shouldn’t have sent Sam away…

After a few aborted attempts and almost slipping once, he finally had to admit defeat. Sitting down heavily on the toilet seat once more with a string of growled curses. He had a feeling Sam was just going to love rubbing this in.

“Sam?” He called the younger boy’s name, having a feeling Sam hadn’t gone very far.

He heard Dean's voice and immediately went to the bathroom. The tone of Dean's voice was question and maybe one of need. He opened the door and saw Dean sitting on the toilet seat looking more than a little frustrated and pretty exhausted. And naked. Very very naked.

Focus, Sam scolded himself.

He immediately went over to the shower and closed the stopper on the drain. "I think a bath would be better. It'll help keep your stitches dry and keep you off that ankle, and let you soak that ankle." He was surprised at how swollen it was. The ankle itself was a rainbow of colors around the ankle bone. "We should have been having you soak that ankle a couple times a day already. I didn't know it was that bad."

After adjusting the temperature to get the bathwater right, he went over to Dean and pulled his arm over his shoulder. "Ready? One, two, three," Sam said and helped the older youth to his feet. Or foot, rather.

Supporting as much of Dean's weight at he could, he got Dean over to the bathtub and helped him sit down on the edge, then held him steady as Dean twisted to get his legs into the tub. At that point Sam couldn't do a lot and Dean lowered himself into the tub pretty much on his own.

"Maybe I should have gotten you some bubble bath," Sam teased him as he brought the washcloth over and got the soap off of the shower shelf along with the shampoo. He turned off the water, leaving just a trickle of hot water continue to fall into the tub to help keep the water warm.

"So you want help, or are you good for now? We can turn the shower back on when you're ready to wash your hair and rinse off."

Dean looked up when he heard the bathroom door open and braced himself for the expected “I told you so” from the younger boy, but none came. Sam merely entered the room, closing the door behind him, and suggested a bath instead of a shower. At this point, Dean had to agree.

When Sam mentioned how bad the ankle looked, Dean merely shrugged. Well, it had been in a brace and wrapped up, no real way for Sam to know.

He watched as Sam adjusted the water and got the bath ready for him, and when the younger boy finally asked him if he was ready, Dean nodded. He wasn’t looking forward to standing up again, but it would only be for a short while and hopefully the bath would help.

Dean clenched his jaw, determined not to make a sound of discomfort as Sam helped him up and into the bath tub. He had to admit, after everything, this felt like heaven and a sigh of relief escaped his lips before Dean could stop it when he finally settled into the warm water. He only threw Sam a mild glare when the younger boy mentioned bubbles.

When Sam asked him if he wanted help with his bath, Dean raised an eyebrow. Well, he couldn’t really think of a reason to refuse Sam’s offer, especially since he really didn’t feel like moving at all right now.

“If you want to.” Dean finally answered, deciding to leave it up to Sam.

Dean looked decidedly content once he settled into the water and even seemed to relax some. The frustration that had made his brow crease seemed to slowly fade away. A small part of Sam was glad Dean still needed his hope, even though he knew he shouldn't be glad. That meant Dean still wasn't up to taking care of himself, as much as Dean would vehemently deny that fact. It probably just about killed him to ask Sam for help. He knew Dean had really wanted to prove he could manage all by himself.

"You should soak that ankle for a bit," Sam suggested. "I'll help you with your bath after your ankle has soaked, after you've soaked and gotten some of the tension out of you. It'll probably really be good for you. Mom suggested I put you in my bed after your shower. She didn't figure you'd feel like coming right back downstairs. I've got it set up for you, just in case you do want to sleep for a few hours. I have to do my chores after you're done with your bath. Then we can get our homework out of the way so we don't have to worry about it tomorrow."

Sam sat down on the floor next to the tub. He was trying hard to focus on Dean's face and not on other parts of his body. "I thought maybe I'd ask Dad to rent us a couple movies to watch tonight. Then tomorrow…well, we'll see what you're up to doing. I know Dad was really hoping you'd be willing to talk cars with him. Maybe go out to the garage and sit and he could pick your brain about suggestions for his car. And you can help me shuck the corn for lunch tomorrow." Sam grinned.

Dean grunted a soft acknowledgement when Sam pointed out he should soak his ankle. He couldn’t really argue, since it was starting to feel better already now that he was stretched out in the tub. He couldn’t stretch out like this in the bath at home, it was too damned small. This was nice though. The warm water helping to relax his sore and tired muscles pretty damned well, and Dean sighed again as he let his head drop back to rest against the side of the tub, staring up at the ceiling.

Sam’s bed? Dean turned his head to look at Sam and arched an eyebrow at that, giving the younger boy a grin that would have been very naughty if he wasn’t so damned tire. Too bad he would probably be too damned exhausted after this to make use of the bed any other way than napping. Not that Sam would do anything with his parents in the house… then again, he never would have thought Sam would wake him up with a hand job while his mom was in the kitchen?

Dean snorted softly when Sam mentioned homework of all things.

“Fuck homework.” Dean muttered under his breath. Then Sam started talking about what they might do tomorrow and Dean couldn’t stop himself from frowning in spite of himself. He’d fully intended to leave this afternoon at the latest, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen. He couldn’t even take a damned shower by himself, as he was sure Sam would point out if he did try to leave. Not to mention Bobby would kill him when the older hunter got back…

He knew Sam was mad at him about not eating with his parents. Maybe if he helped his father with his car that would make the younger boy happy.

“Car, maybe. Corn, forget it.”

Sam gave a small huff of laughter. "You're going to be too tired for anything to happen in that bed but sleep. I'll try to get my chores done fast and then I'll come back up and work on the computer while you're out." Sam was going to make a crack about Bobby expecting Dean to have his homework done too, but it was pretty unlikely Dean would be going back to school for maybe a week so it didn't really matter. He didn't have a whole lot of homework. Maybe he could do that while Dean slept. Really he was reluctant to leave Dean alone long what with his nightmares. Maybe he could beg off on his chores, at least until Dean woke up and was back downstairs. His mom would probably go for that. Especially if he worked on his homework instead.

Sam beamed, his face lighting up when Dean said he might be willing to talk with his dad about the Mustang. He knew his father would be excited to get some 'professional' advice and opinions. Maybe that would cheer Dean up too, talking about cars.

"Corn shucking is fun," Sam protested. "Cornsilk everywhere, seeing that delicious corn underneath the leaves, know how good it's going to taste. And the mandatory cornsilk fights, too, of course. You gotta have those. And if there are any caterpillars, grossing out the other person. Have you ever even shucked corn?" he asked.

“Party pooper.” Dean complained. Making a face when Sam pointed out that he’d be too damned tired to make use of Sam’s bed in more enjoyable ways than sleeping. Too bad Sam was probably right, still, Dean could have his fantasies.

He was pleased though that Sam still wanted to stay with him even if Dean was going to be asleep. Maybe it meant the younger boy wasn’t too pissed off with him about not wanting help up the stairs then. Well, Sam certainly wasn’t acting pissed off now. In fact, the younger boy seemed to be in a pretty good mood now.

The smile that lit up Sam’s face when Dean agreed to talk cars with his father kind of made it all worth it, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. When customers came by the scrap yard looking to have him do some work for them, Dean certainly didn’t have any problems talking cars and occasionally shooting the breeze.

Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little however as Sam went on about just how ‘exciting’ corn shucking could be. Seriously… was he kidding?

“I’ve never tried square dancing either, doesn’t mean I want to.” Dean replied with a snort.

Sam returned his eyeroll. "Yeah, you and square dancing. So not seeing that. Maybe dancing for Chippendales," he said, then felt the blush as he imagined Dean in tight leather pants and no shirt. He didn't have any idea how an exotic dancer danced, but he would be willing to watch if it was Dean doing the dancing.

"Uhm, yeah, and with that thought, I'm going to take your clothes downstairs to be washed. I'll get a wrap for your ankle since that brace looks kind of…gross. Just soak. I'll be back in just a minute."

Sam pushed himself to his feet and grabbed Dean's clothes and hurried down to the washing machine. Jesus that brace stunk. It looked like it could be washed though so he put it in a pillowcase, just in case it decided to disintegrate, and started the washer. He went in to the kitchen where his parents were.

"Can I put off my chores until later? As soon as Dean is done, it's a good bet he's going to fall asleep. With his nightmares, I don't want to leave him alone. I'll do my homework instead?" Sam asked hopefully.

Keiko and Jim exchanged glances. "So long as the lawn is mowed today, yes," Jim said.

"Thanks! And Dean thinks he'll be up to talking cars with you tomorrow and give you advice about the Mustang."

Jim sat up a little straighter. "Maybe I better go get things organized a little," he said, excitement dancing in his eyes.

Keiko laughed softly. "Well I can see I've lost him for the day. Why don't you clean the garage up while you're out there," she suggested. "It is on your honey-do list."

"And why is it you don't have a honey-do list, hmmm?" Jim asked.

"Because I'm smart enough not to let you give me one," Keiko answered sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him.

"I'm going to go get my homework," Sam said before his parents got any mushier. After retrieving his homework he put it in his bedroom then went in to check on Dean.

Dean couldn’t help but grin at Sam’s ‘Chippendales’ comment, especially since the younger boy blushed afterwards. Sam blushing over his own perverted comments never failed to amuse Dean. He could practically see the naughty thoughts flickering through the boy’s brain and just imagining how Sam might react to a lap dance from him made Dean really want to try it. Not now of course, but later, definitely later. Damn it, there were so many things he wanted to try with Sam. He needed to get better soon.

When Sam suddenly announced that he was going to wash his clothes, and the ankle brace, Dean couldn’t think of a reason to complain. The brace was pretty gross he couldn’t deny it, and it would save him from having to do it himself when he got home. After all, and laundry definitely wasn’t on his top ten fun list.

So he merely nodded, his eyes tiredly following Sam out the door. When it closed behind the younger boy Dean did exactly what Sam suggested. He soaked. What else was he going to do? He supposed he could start washing, but he still didn’t really feel like moving right now. So instead Dean just relaxed in the warm water and he didn’t even realize his eyes were starting to droop closed until they were already shut. At that point, Dean didn't really care.

Sam entered the bathroom and saw Dean was relaxing, his eyes shut. Then he heard the soft snores and laughed softly to himself. He sat back down on the floor and took Dean's hand, softly humming the song his mom always did to keep away the bad dreams. If his parents investigated, he didn't really know what he was going to say, so he just hoped they didn't. That would be massively awkward. But he was afraid to leave Dean alone in the bathtub asleep.

He watched Dean sleep, studying his features. Dean seemed so peaceful and so handsome. He admired the strong lines of his chest, watching it rise and fall with the long slow breaths Dean took as he slept. He picked up the soap and rolled it in his hands, creating a lather. He slowly began caressing Dean's chest with the soap, washing away the sweat and anything else that clung to that muscular chest. His hands ran along Dean's shoulders, smiling as he felt the strong muscles there. He massaged Dean's arms as he washed each one, trying to be gentle so as not to disturb his boyfriend's sleep. He finally took the rag and got it thoroughly soapy and began to wash Dean's thighs. He didn't want to move Dean, so he wash what he could, and he avoided Dean's groin, knowing that would probably wake the older youth up if anything would. He rinsed the suds off Dean's chest, watching in fascination as droplets ran down the ridges and hallows of Dean's muscles. He went back to holding Dean's hand and humming softly.

After a good fifteen more minutes, Sam figured the water was probably getting cool, even with the trickle of hot water into it. And the water was getting kinda high at this point. Not ready to splash over the sides or anything, but the tub was about half filled.

Squeezing Dean's hand, he said softly, "C'mon Dean, time to wake up. Let's finish your bath and you can sleep in the bed for a few hours. Wake up."

Dean was having a really good dream.

He was laying on a blanket in a field next to a tall tree. The air was warm, but the shade from the tree kept it from getting too hot. His eyes were closed but he could feel the warmth of the sunlight gently caressing his skin, sifting ever so slightly every time there was a slight breeze and the leaves rustled above him. He was naked, and he wasn’t alone, but that didn’t bother Dean in the least. Especially when soft warm fingers began to caress his skin feeling even better than the sunlight, moving over his chest, his arms, and down his legs. Just touching him, not in a sexual way, but it felt good nonetheless.

“Sam…” He knew it was the younger boy, even without opening his eyes. As much as he wanted to open his eyes he kept them closed, not wanting to risk Sam stopping if he did. It felt too good. When he heard the younger boy call his name softly however, Dean finally did blink his eyes open slowly.

Dean blinked in confusion for a moment, because he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, then he realized quickly he’d been dreaming. Sam really was there however, so Dean couldn’t really complain too much. Even though he was still tired and didn’t really want to wake up. Dean yawned hugely, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and gave Sam a warm smile.

“Hey.”

"Hey yourself. You look like you feel better," Sam said, noting that the touch of pallor that had tinged Dean's skin was absent.

"I've washed what I could without disturbing you, but there are parts you still need to get and your hair," Sam made something of a face, "yeah, it definitely needs washing."

After studying Dean a minute he gave a nod and popped the plug on the tub, then took off his shirt. "I'm going to turn on the shower. You stay sitting there, but sit up. While you wash your hair, I'll get your back washed. You can take care of your…uhm, privates. Then we'll get you dried off a little, get you out and to the toilet. I'll finish drying you off, get your ankle wrapped up, get you in some clothes and then put you to bed. To sleep." Sam said, giving Dean a pointed look.

"The first blast of the shower is going to be cold," Sam warned as he turned on the water and the got the temperature adjusted before switching it over to shower mode. He couldn't help but grin a little at Dean's yelp as the cold water first hit him.

After handing Dean the shampoo, he did as promised and soon he shut off the shower and helped Dean get to his feet and helped him out of the shower. Dean looked totally and completely wiped.

"No falling asleep until I get you in bed," Sam told him.

Grabbing a thick towel, he quickly wiped his own chest dry, then began working on the older youth. He wrapped Dean's ankle then helped him get dressed in his boxers and a t-shirt.

Dean confirmed he was feeling a little better with a small nod. He was still tired as hell but he was feeling quite relaxed and not hurting nearly as much as he had been.

The young man raised an eyebrow though when Sam admitted that he’d washed him before waking him up. He wasn’t sure whether to be amused by the younger boy’s sudden shyness while talking about his ‘privates’. Considering Sam had washed his cock and jerked him off only a few days ago while giving him a sponge bath. Or a little bit upset that Sam hadn’t woken him up first before washing him so that Dean could enjoy it a little.

He settled on making a face when Sam mentioned washing his hair. Not that he didn’t want his hair washed, because Sam was right, it definitely needed it, it was more how girly Sam made it sound. He supposed he couldn’t complain too much when Sam took off his shirt, a hopeful look entering his eyes that Sam might actually get in with him after all.

A look that changed to something of a pout when Sam didn’t remove any more clothes, but Dean did what he was asked and pushed himself up into a sitting position using the edges of the tub for support. The water from the shower head was pretty fucking cold and Dean couldn’t contain a sound of surprise when the water hit him. He gave his grinning boyfriend a mild glare for that one.

The rest of his bath/shower passed rather quickly and it was probably a good thing because Dean was starting to get very tired again. Tired enough he was contemplating just asking Sam for a blanket so he could sleep right here in the tub. He let the younger boy help maneuver him out of the tub without complaint however. Well, without much complaint. Drying him off and getting him dressed passed in a series of yawns, and he couldn’t even enjoy the feeling of Sam’s hands running over him, which really sucked.

Finally Sam helped him to his feet, or foot, and Dean limped along with the younger boy to Sam’s bedroom. He managed to stay awake long enough to sort of help Sam get him tucked into the bed, and then he was out like a light again.

Dean had barely laid down and his eyes were shut and he was out cold. Sam stroked Dean's cheek lightly, then kissed him lightly on the lips. "I'm right here. So no bad dreams. You're only allowed to have good dreams," he whispered.

Sam moved over to his desk and cracked open his school books. He usually liked listening to music, but he wanted to make certain if Dean even hinted at getting restless in his sleep, he could be at his side instantly. He sighed heavily. He had always so loved school. It really sucked that Chalmers turned out to be such an awful place. Well, it hadn't been awful when he was Eric's 'boy' but now? Now he hated practically every minute of it. Even with the loss of money, maybe he should ask his parents to put him back in public school. Sure, he was still geekazoid maximus, but the bullies there were generally just bullies not rapists.

Glancing back at Dean, a small smile curved his lips. If he hadn't gone to that horrible school, he never would have met Dean though. While Dean could certainly be a stubborn pain in the ass, and moodier than a girl on the rag, he could also be wonderful and caring. He sure wished Dean was under eighteen though so the whole thing with 'statutory rape' couldn't come into play if anyone found out.

Turning back to his books, he began working out an outline for the paper he had to write.