Out From Under

by TwoBoys2Love

Summary:

Sequel to "The Lighthouse". Dean is still teaching Sam about hunting but he's tired of doing run-of-the-mill hunts. When he finds a nest of vampires he thinks it might be time for Sam to join him. It doesn't go well and Sam is rattled.

Dean pressed his chest as close as he could to Sam's back. His hand slid along the worn leather of Sam's belt until he could hook his thumb into the front pocket of Sam's jeans.

"Dean."

"Just relax, Sam. Breathe." Dean slipped his free hand under Sam's t-shirt and pressed his palm to Sam's flat abs.

"I'm breathing," Sam said weakly.

"In and out, slowly then squeeze the trigger when you're ready. When you feel resistance, stop. Breathe out. Then shoot."

The rise and fall of Sam's chest pushed their bodies even closer together and Dean bit down on his bottom lip.

It didn't really matter what they were doing. Sam was hot. His moves were sensual, he smelled good, and his skin felt like it was strung over hot steel.

It was a distraction when Dean was trying to teach Sam about hunting. Hell. It was a distraction most of the time. There were just some times it was harder to ignore.

The sharp retort of the handgun made Sam's stomach muscles clench under Dean's touch. He could feel Sam fall back against him.

The beer can Dean had set up pinged off the hollowed-out stump and flipped through the air a few times before landing.

"Good," Dean murmured against Sam's neck. "Great."

Sam shrugged his shoulders slightly and leaned back against Dean. The hand holding the gun lowered slowly until it was at Sam's hip.

Dean's fingers curled over Sam's and he took the gun from him. "You're a natural."

Sam laughed. "I'm a natural at nerd stuff. Not all your hunter stuff."

All the hunter stuff was still pretty new to Sam. They were still counting in months from when Sam had climbed into the Impala and taken a ferry away from his beloved Lighthouse on the island.

It had been small steps at first. Sam's world had been very small on the island. On the other hand, Dean's life was crazy huge and full of things that Sam had never even heard of, let alone experienced.

There had been a few weeks of research while they got to know even more about each other. Sam would read voraciously and fall into bed at night only to be awakened by Dean's rough hands.

The first hunts had been simple: well-meaning ghosts, harmless hauntings, a demon that Dean had already hogtied. Each exposure to something supernatural was a bit of a shock to Sam, but Dean always kept him anchored to the ground.

It was a tough road but they had persisted.

Sam had resisted being taught how to shoot a gun for a while. He and Dean had argued about it. But Dean was insistent. Sam had to be able to protect himself and have Dean's back in the future. It was important for Dean to know that Sam could protect himself.

One of the things that had become very clear to Dean once Sam had climbed into the passenger seat was that he couldn't live with something happening to his new partner. He had been the one who had asked Sam to come with him and Sam had left a very safe, very comfortable home.

Sam had taken all the risk. Dean's life had just become something more.

As he slid the forty-five back into his shoulder holster Dean pressed his lips to the cut of Sam's jaw. He never tired of that: kissing Sam.

His life was definitely more than it had been before.

"Lunch?" Dean asked.

"Finally," Sam grumbled. But he turned in Dean's arms and stared into his eyes. "I'm really hungry."

Dean's next exhale began with a little gasp. The sound of Sam's voice really got to him sometimes. It was kind of like the feeling he'd gotten on the roller coasters he'd loved so much as a kid. The words, the deep glide of Sam's voice would crawl down Dean's flesh and make his stomach do a crazy flip.

It had been like that since he'd met Sam.

"You're a tease, Sam." Dean shook his head and smiled.

"No." Sam leaned down and brushed his lips against Dean's. "I'm just hungry. You've had me out here since ass o'clock in the morning. I'm cold and hungry."

The globe of Sam's ass fit perfectly in the palm of Dean's hand. "I thought I was doing a pretty good job of keeping you warm."

Dean knew that Sam had gotten a feel for the Colt far quicker than he had let on. The swell in the front of his jeans was proof that Sam liked the feel of Dean pressed up behind him.

"If you hadn't been turned on by the whole thing we could have been done at least an hour ago." Dean grinned smugly and began to walk backwards down the dirt road they'd followed into the brush.

As he followed Sam pushed his hair out of his eyes. "I wasn't - I don't know how you figure that."

But they had spent enough time together for Dean to recognize the pink flush that had crawled onto Sam's cheeks.

"Liar," Dean said under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothin'." Dean turned and set off swiftly towards the car with a smile on his face.

-=-=-=-

The day passed quickly for a while. Lunch killed an hour and then Dean decided it was time to wash the car. They cleaned the handgun and that took longer than Dean had expected because Sam kept dropping things.

Then while Sam got caught up on some reading,Dean found himself with nothing to do. Not having an active hunt on the go made Dean feel like he was at loose ends.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Reading."

Dean picked up the paper that was on the table, opened it, flattened it back on the table and then closed it again. "I was just wondering about something."

There was a tension in Sam's shoulders that hadn't been there before Dean's statement. "Just let me finish this part or I'll forget what I'm supposed to be learning."

Sam shifted on his chair and propped his chin on his fist and continued to read.

"I was just wondering if you still miss the island, the lighthouse." Dean sank down on the end of of their bed and pushed the toe of his boot against a hole in the carpet.

There was a dull thump when Sam let his forehead hit the table.

Success. Dean smirked. Usually it took longer for him to distract Sam from his research. "Well?"

"Yeah." Sam's voice was muffled. The chair squeaked when he sat back up. "I miss some things."

"Like what?" Just for good measure, Dean kicked his foot out and tapped one of the legs of Sam's chair.

The sigh that Sam let out was pretty epic. After a few seconds he turned sideways on the chair so he was facing Dean.

"I miss the ocean air."

"And?"

"Are you taking inventory?"

"Just curious."

"You’re bored, aren't you?" Sam said with a half smile on his face.

"Well now, Sammy, I don't have as much learning to do about hunting as you do." It was true. Hunting was a steep learning curve for Sam. Dean had been learning about hunting his entire life, Sam had been thrown in the deep end and was only beginning to learn how to dog paddle.

Sam's mouth fell open in shock "You're the one who says I have to learn about it if I want to hunt with you."

They'd tossed around the idea of Sam working but it would have meant a lot of time apart and Sam wasn't ready for that.

"Maybe we could take on something bigger," Dean suggested.

Sam's gaze narrowed and he rubbed his palms on his jeans as though suddenly nervous. "You've found something, haven't you?"

It was a fact. Even though Sam was still learning the ropes, Dean couldn't help the way he was drawn to reports about potential hunts. He was pretty sure that he had some sort of weird sixth sense for finding supernatural shit.

Dean leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "So. I picked up this paper at the store when I went to get you food-"

"-get us food," Sam interrupted.

"Whatever. There have been four murders here in the past three months."

Frowning, Sam rubbed at his eyes for a few moments. "That's not all that unusual, is it?"

"Jesus, Sam. There's only about seven thousand people in this town. I don't know about where you grew up but I think that's pretty extreme.

A dark expression slid onto Sam's face and then he looked down at this boots.

Sam's past wasn't a place where he enjoyed lingering. There were still a lot of conversations the two men needed to have.

"Okay, Dean," Sam said after a while. "What does it mean to a hunter?"

There was a little twinge of warning in Dean's mind. Maybe Sam wasn't ready for a more dangerous hunt. But, Jesus, Dean was bored with the hauntings and minor demons.

"It's partly in the details," Dean said. "They were all drained of blood, injuries like bite marks reported on the neck of two of them. I bet if you put that brain of yours to work and hacked into the local Sheriff's office you would be able to find the original reports. I'd bet my ass that all of them have the same wounds and the same cause of death."

"I'm not hacking into the Sheriff's department. I'll take your word for it. What's doing it, then?"

"Vamps."

Sam stared at Dean silently for a while then he cleared his throat. "I hate the way you can say things like vamps as though it's not completely freakin' crazy."

Dean shrugged a shoulder and pushed up off the bed to walk over to the miniature fridge. He bent down and pulled two beers out of it then headed over to Sam to give him one. He couldn't help running his fingers through Sam's hair. "It is the truth, Sam. You know it."

Dean opened his beer and took a quick drink as it foamed a little.

All Sam did was look at his beer and then he set it behind him on the table. "What do we do?"

Dean sat down on the bottom of the bed again. "We get the information on the recent deaths, there could be more that the law ain't aware of. See if there's a pattern."

"And the pattern leads us to..."

"Hopefully to a nest. Then we get rid of them."

Sam was starting to look a little pale. "Define get rid of them."

"I mean, sometimes I have to get creative but usually? Machete and decapitation."

Sam was definitely pale by that point. "Dean, that seems like a big step."

There was a look Sam got on his face when he felt like he was in over his head. It had happened more often than Dean liked.

"There's no rush, Sammy. If you're not ready it's okay."

"I'm ready," Sam answered quickly. He sounded a little indignant and Dean couldn't help smiling.

"Okay, Sam. It's just something a couple of towns away. We can stay here tonight, rest. Head out in the morning?"

"Okay." Sam still looked a little preoccupied.

"What you thinkin' about, Sammy?" In their short time together Dean had already had already learned that Sam could get lost in his thoughts too quickly. It was never a good place for him to be. The limited time Dean had been allowed in hadn't revealed much but he knew that Sam had been in more than one war. There were a lot of battle scars.

Shaking his head slowly, Sam looked over at Dean. "Just how fast everything's changing."

It didn't feel all that fast to Dean. It had been two months since he and Sam had left the island, a couple of weeks since Sam had resigned his remote job and relinquished his last connection to the lighthouse.

That was when Sam had seemed to become a little more silent. Dean's response had been to take Sam target shooting in the afternoons. He wasn't sure if it had been the right move.

"I know you've made a lot of changes, Sam. Pretty much everything." Dean smiled. "S'worth it though, right?"

Sam blinked slowly and looked down before nodding.

"Not quite the overwhelming joy I was hopin' for." Dean sighed and swallowed a few mouthfulls of beer.

"It's worth it," Sam said quietly.

It wasn't a lot but Dean would take it as a positive step. Sam had a lot of fucking walls built up and Dean had to take it slow and steady if he wanted to make any progress.

Letting out a tired groan, Dean pushed himself up off the bed and headed back over to Sam. He set his beer down on the table in front of Sam so he could put both hands on Sam's shoulders. "Look at me, Sam."

It took a few heartbeats for Sam's gaze to lift. His eyes were wide open and honest. There were moments when Sam looked as though he didn't have a secret in the world.

But there were still secrets and Dean knew it.

"Sam, you know how it goes. Any time you wanna go back to the island; you let me know. You want to stop somewhere for a while? You just gotta say."

"I can't go back now," Sam said quietly.

"Why not?" Dean couldn't imagine Erma ever turning Sam away from her front door. She was more protective than a pissed off mother bear. Dean thought he would actually have a better chance with an actual bear."I quit my job, Dean. I can't go back to the lighthouse." There was a shadow of sadness in Sam's eyes that hit Dean like a sucker punch in the gut.

"I didn't make you do that, Sam." Guilt settled on Dean's shoulders and he rolled them back to try and relax them.

"You didn't," Sam answered.

Dean could feel Sam getting more distant. It was frustrating.

Dean reached down and grabbed Sam's hand so he could pull him up to his feet. When Sam was standing, Dean cupped his cheeks and kept their gazes locked.

"What do you need, Sam?" It was a question he'd asked Sam from time to time. The answers were nearly always different and ranged from you to a a miracle. Dean always tried to give Sam what he needed.

"I'm just - it's just all new stuff. You told me a long time ago that vampires were real but, holy shit. It feels unreal to hear you say "Hey, let's go hunt one and cut its head off."

It made sense to Dean. There were times when he was pretty surprised by the details of his hunting life. "We don't have to. I can call someone else."

Something in Sam's expression brightened and his shoulder dropped slightly. "Yeah?"

"Hunters do it all the time if they can't get to a job. I'll call Bobby and see if he knows someone else who's in the area." Dean smiled and tousled Sam's hair before dropping his hands.

A smile grew very slowly on Sam's face. "Am I ever gonna get to meet Bobby? You afraid he won't like me?"

Dean rolled his eyes and snatched his beer off the table. He headed back over to the bed and sat down. The beer was already getting warm and Dean frowned when the weak taste of it hit his tongue.

It didn't take long before Sam headed over to sit beside Dean. He took the beer out of Dean's hand and took a drink. He wiped his hand across his mouth and handed it back. "Warm."

"That's your fault."

Sam nodded and leaned his shoulder solidly against Dean's. When Dean just sat there Sam rocked into Dean's shoulder again.

"What?" Dean set his beer down on the nightstand.

"We're still good, right?"

Oh, Sam.

Dean grabbed Sam's thigh and squeezed. "Sam, of course we're fine. I'll call Bobby in the morning and we'll stay here a couple more days. Okay?"

Sam nodded and slid his fingers over Dean's hand. "It wasn't a mistake."

"It wasn't."

"Wanna go out for a drink?"

Dean shook his head. What he wanted was to remind Sam exactly how much he was cared for. Sometimes, that was what he seemed to need. Sometimes Dean just didn't have the right words or the right assurances so he just held on to Sam for all he was worth.

His grip on Sam's thigh loosened enough that Dean could slide his hand higher.

Almost instantly Sam's eyes darkened and he shifted restlessly. When Dean turned to face Sam he found his mouth quickly.

There was always a shock of heat when Dean's tongue slid through the softness of Sam's lips. It was like falling through a wormhole into a world where nothing mattered but Sam.

Dean's heart beat a little faster when Sam's hands slipped under the hem of his t-shirt to help pull it off over Dean's head.

"Take it easy, Sam. We got all night." Dean grinned as he watched Sam bite down on his bottom lip.

"But I want you now." Sam shrugged out of his flannel shirt and tossed it on the floor.

And there was that thing about Dean always trying to give Sam what he wanted and needed.

When Dean pushed Sam down onto the bed they both smiled.

-=-=-=-

"Bobby!" Dean exclaimed. His ear was aching from being pressed against his phone and he could feel the beginning nibble of a headache.

"Don't Bobby me, son." Something thumped on the other end of the line and Dean could almost see Bobby roaming around his big old house.

"There has to be someone else," Dean almost whined. "I just want a pass on this one." Dean paced over to the motel room window and pulled the curtain back to look out.

"What are you, twelve? You're only an hour away and there can't be that many of 'em. Get your ass over there and clean out that nest."

There was no sign of Sam returning from the diner with lunch so Dean dropped the curtain and paced across the room. "Things are just a big complicated right now with Sam. He's still learnin' how to-"

"Then don't take him with ya, Genius," Bobby snarled. "Just sort it out, Dean."

The line went dead and Dean pulled his phone away from his ear to scowl at it.

The motel room door opened and Sam entered with a brown bag. He paused after a few steps and stared. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume the conversation with Bobby didn't go so well."

Dean sighed and tossed his phone on the bed before flopping down on his back. "Fuck."

The bag rustled and then Dean felt the bed sink under Sam's weight.

"What happened?" Sam's voice was right beside Dean's ear and he glanced over to see Sam lying on his belly.

"Well. I called Bobby and asked him to find someone else to check into those deaths." Dean wasn't entirely sure how Sam was going to feel about the fact that they would have to go and check it out.

"And?" Sam slid his hand over Dean's chest slowly.

"And Bobby says there's no one else who can go check it out." The room was silent again and Dean looked over at Sam.

"Oh." Sam forced a smile onto his face then rolled onto his back.

"I know I said we'd have a few days here. I can just take off tomorrow and see if I can sort this out." Guilt was weighing on Dean again. It was starting to feel too familiar.

"By yourself?"

"Yeah. I bet I can be back in a couple of days." They hadn't been apart for any significant amount of time since Sam had left the island. It probably wasn't something that Sam would suggest but if Sam had any hesitation about hunting then things could go sideways fast.

"I can back you up. You've taught me a lot." Sam rolled back to face Dean.

A deep breath did little to settle Dean's nerves about the suggestion. "You're not ready. And I can cover this one. You can stay here and do some more studying."

"That's just a bad idea, Dean. You told me that there could be three of them. How're you gonna handle them all at the same time?"

"Sam! What a lack of faith. You've seen my moves. I do believe that's how you and I met. I handed you your ass." Dean flashed the grin that nearly always worked to soften Sam up.

"You did not," Sam objected weakly. He kicked at Dean's ankle. "I think I saved your ass from a ghost."

"You sure have a selective memory there, Sammy." There was a bit of truth to both of their stories.

"No matter how you try to distract me, I'm still going with you. I don't want to stay here by myself."

It seemed an odd thing for Sam to say but there were often times when Sam surprised Dean.

"Sam. I swear it's nothing I haven't dealt with before."

"Are you gonna be pissed off if I come with you?" Sam's voice was thin and a little shaky.

Dean rolled onto his side and grabbed Sam's hand. "No. Never."

"I'll come with you. I gotta do it sooner or later, right?"

No. Sam didn't have to hunt but Dean knew that Sam was way too smart to be a stay-at-home boyfriend. There was fuck all to do in motel rooms and that wasn't why Dean had wanted Sam with him.

"Okay," Dean said finally. "We go together. We'll talk more about it tomorrow."

Sam nodded and pushed up onto his elbows so he could kiss Dean.

It seemed to Dean that he had made the right decision.

He was thinking that he could talk Sam out of joining him on the hunt once they arrived at the town.

The thoughts drifted away from him quickly when Sam's mouth trailed hotly down his neck.

-=-=-=-

The sharp clunk of the machete on the trunk of the car made Dean cringe. "Jesus, Sam. I've done all of this before by myself. I will be perfectly fine if you stay here."

Sam's long hair swept back and forth as he shook his head. "I'm coming. Unless you've got plans to tie me to the bed." With his arms crossed and his shoulders squared Sam looked like a force to be reckoned with.

The little resolve Dean had melted away. Sam might be only twenty-two but there was something about his determination that made him look a lot more worldly. It went a long way to convincing Dean that Sam would be fine on the hunt.

"Get in the damn car," Dean said as he headed around the car. He nodded at Sam to pick up the machete.

Dean had spent the morning doing some research. Sam had reluctantly hacked into the Sheriff's network and the autopsy photos were conclusive. There were nasty bite marks on the neck of one of the bodies and the coroner had suggested it may have been an animal attack.

It was the usual story. The bodies were drained of blood and the vamps had been stupid enough to pick a small town where Dean could easily find the nest. He showed Sam where the bodies were found and they discovered an abandoned slaughterhouse right in the middle of the drop points.

They had argued briefly about whether or not Sam should go on the hunt again. Well, Dean couldn't really call it an argument. Sam was resolute. He was going with Dean. He gave no reasons, didn't plead; he simply said he was going.

And there they were in the car speeding down one of the dirt roads toward the back of the slaughterhouse.

They parked on a pull out about half a mile away, geared up and then headed out on foot. They had to be quiet and that was probably just as well. Dean didn't want to waste any more time on arguing.

He trusted Sam. He knew that Sam could hold his own in a fight. The only thing that worried him was the shock factor.

Sam knew that the evil nasties were all real but it was much easier to think about something than it was to face it down.

As far as Dean had been able to figure out there were only three or four vampires. He hoped that he'd be able to clean everything up before Sam had to get involved.

The distance passed quickly as the two men moved as quietly as they could. Soon they were at the north end of the old slaughterhouse. There were a few windows along the back of the building and Dean had a close look at two of them before finding a third one unlocked.

He nodded at Sam over his shoulder then slid the window open slowly and carefully. When there was enough space Dean swung his leg up and hopped up onto the sill.

For a few moments he was completely still, listening. He couldn't hear a sound and that, in itself, was a confirmation. No self-respecting rat or pigeon would live anywhere near a vampire's nest.

Dean held his hand up to gesture for Sam to wait then he hopped down into the building.

It took a few moments for Dean's eyes to adjust to the near absolute darkness of the old slaughterhouse. The back room looked like some kind of holding room but it was completely empty.

From Dean's scan of the walls he could tell that there were only two doors out of the room.

Dean walked back over to the window and held out his hand for Sam.

Sam was pretty agile. He hopped up onto the sill without Dean's help, swung both legs in then dropped down onto the floor almost silently. When he straightened up he was right beside Dean.

If they weren't trying to be quiet Dean probably would have laughed. Their relationship was still at the stage where Sam could surprise him. Oh, he knew Sam was fit; he'd had to chase him down on the island a couple of times. And, he'd had his hands on nearly every inch of Sam's body. He just wasn't always prepared for the way Sam moved.

Sam's elbow stabbed into Dean's side. After a moment's pause he nodded and pointed his machete at the nearest door.

They made their way across the room quickly and, after a general check, Dean had them through the door and heading down a long hall.

The silence of the spooky old building was a little unsettling. Dean glanced back at Sam a couple of times. Sam looked on guard and pretty stressed but that seemed perfectly normal to Dean. They were hunting vampires. Who wouldn't be stressed?

When they approached another door Sam leaned against the wall while Dean cracked it open as quietly as he could.

In the weighty gloom of the big chamber, Dean could see that they had arrived at the right spot.

Even though the slaughterhouse had long since been gutted there were still some white metal rails running parallel to the far wall. In between those rails were a couple of hammocks. In the hammocks a couple of bodies that Dean presumed were vampires.

He stepped the rest of the way into the room and scanned the perimeter. There were several doors, a couple of them were open and led to even more dark rooms.

There was still no sound. Although it seemed a little odd to Dean that there were only two of the bloodsuckers, he knew it wasn't completely unheard of.

Dean stepped back far enough to make eye contact with Sam and nodded for him to come in.

When Sam stepped up to Dean's side again Dean could see that the machete in Sam's hand was shaking slightly.

Dean leaned into Sam's shoulder for a few moments. Their gazes locked for a while and then Sam took a deep breath and nodded.

Dean held up two fingers and pointed to where the vamps were sleeping. One of them was tall, dark, a little lanky. He had long, dark, greasy hair that looked like it was pulled back into a ponytail.

In the second hammock there was a youngish looking woman with a shock of red curls on her head. She would be quite cute if it weren't for the fact that there was a smear of dried blood from her lips all the way across her cheek.

Dean shook off the disgust that itched in the pit of his stomach.

They'd had a plan coming in: if there were two of the creatures Dean would be perfectly capable of taking them both out if Sam could watch his back.

That was the plan so they headed over to the two hammocks in unison.

Sam stopped about six feet from the vampires so he could keep an eye on the big picture.

After a last look at Sam, Dean headed over to the railing. He ducked under it, moving as silently as he could. He lifted the machete and swung it in a wide arc to slice down through the female vampire's neck.

The creature let out a gargled screech and blood splashed up over Dean's shirt. He spun quickly to dispatch the second vampire but his eye caught something that made him falter.

There was another vampire and it was headed straight towards Sam.

In the second that Dean was distracted the male vampire in front of him swung out of the hammock and grabbed the machete from Dean.

In the time it took for Dean's heart to tumble forward a few beats everything had flipped on its head.

Dean caught a glimpse of Sam's machete slicing through the dark toward the third vampire.

His fingers had slid off of his own machete as the male vamp got the better of him. "Don't move." A low voice broke through the few moments of madness and Dean froze.

He closed his eyes for a little while. His own machete was cold and sharp against his Adam's apple. Sam had missed the third vampire and was facing him down.

It wasn't good.

"This is how it's gonna go," the vamp growled against Dean's ear.

Dean struggled in the monster's grip for a few seconds but all it earned him was a slight cut across his throat. The vamp was too strong and too focused for Dean to break free.

"You." The vampire addressed Sam.

Sam's body jolted but his eyes only flicked to Dean's for a moment before settling back on the vampire. He was trembling, the machete was wavering back and forth in his hand.

"Sammy, it's okay -" The vampire's arm tightened around Dean's neck but, at least, the machete lifted off his skin.

"Dean." The waver in Sam's voice made Dean's chest ache. It was his fault that Sam was standing there, faced off against two vampires.

"Drop the machete, Sammy or I'm gonna take your boyfriend's head off."

Sam's eyes locked with Dean's instantly.

"No," Dean managed to force out. If Sam dropped that damn weapon he'd never make it out of the slaughterhouse alive. And Dean needed to that to happen.

Dean could sense the vamp's teeth at this throat and a rage boiled up inside his chest. It wasn't the way things were supposed to go. Not with Sam there. Not so soon.

"You've got three seconds to drop the knife, Stretch."

With every breath he managed to suck in, Dean tried to get a better idea of where everything was. The machete had dropped slightly so the vampire could get his other arm tight around Dean's neck. The third Vamp was about three strides away from Sam.

Dean shifted his boot forward slowly until the toe bumped into one of the railing supports. he just needed a chance; just a second.

"Now," the vampire growled. He drew the machete closer to Dean's skin.

At the same time the machete Sam had been holding clattered to the ground. Everything seemed to go into slow motion.

The third vamp flew forward and snatched Sam's machete off the floor. Sam stumbled backwards until he slammed into the back wall.

Dean felt the relief of the vampire loosening its hold on him for a fraction of a second and he pounced.He twisted in his captor's grip and reversed their positions. He felt a sharp pain across his chest as he slammed the vampire's face hard into the metal railing.

Stunned, the vampire clung to the railing long enough for the machete to slip out of his hand.

Before the machete could hit the ground, Dean snatched it out of the air. He let the momentum of it swing the machete back up until he could circle it back up to slam down onto the back of the vampire's neck.

As the vamp crumbled to the ground, Dean glanced up in time to see the remaining vampire heading towards him.

But not towards Sam.

A weight lifted off Dean's chest and he slapped a hand down onto the railing and vaulted over it in time to land in front of the vampire that was rushing him.

Once more the machete sliced through the air and landed right on target. The vamp’s head flopped off it's body and rolled away from its boneless body.

Dean was surprised he'd even been able to do that. Pain was biting at his chest and he pressed his arm tight against it. "Sam."

There was a scuffling sound and Sam emerged from the shadows. His face was pale, his eyes wide and Dean could see he was terrified.

"Sam. Get your machete. And throw me the lighter fluid."

For a few moments Sam just stood there staring wide-eyed at Dean. Then he reached behind him and pulled the bottle of fuel out of his back pocket. He tossed it to Dean and then turned to search for his machete.

As the pain in Dean's chest burned a little hotter he groaned and clutched his chest a little tighter. He'd look at it later because what he really needed to do was clean up the place and get Sam the hell out of there.

Dean popped the container open with his thumb and squirted the liquid over the three bodies. He threw the container down between them and felt around in his back pocket for matches.

"Got it," Sam said from behind him.

"Wait there."

With his free hand Dean flipped the book of matches open and flicked one alight with his thumbnail. He stared at the growing flame for a heartbeat then tossed it on the bodies and walked away.

As he passed Sam he grabbed his hand and pulled him back the way they'd come in.

They stumbled through the darkness chased by the sound of the crackling flames.

The two men moved quickly through the abandoned building, clambered through the window and began the hike back to the car.

Dean could feel a warm wetness spreading down his undershirt so he pulled his plaid shirt closed. "Sam? You good?"

Sam nodded then seemed to realize that Dean might not be able to see him. "Yes. I'm okay. I'm ... sorry, Dean."

"Nothin' to be sorry for," Dean said quickly. And he believed it. Sam had been right all along; he should never have been on the hunt with Dean. They were extremely lucky to be getting out of there alive.

"I shouldn't have-"

"Don't, Sam. Let's just get to the car and get the hell out of here."

They were silent as they trudged back to the car. They moved faster, didn't worry so much about making noise and made good time all things considered. The dampness had reached the hem of Dean's t-shirt and he knew he needed to get back to the motel to take a look at his chest.

By the time they reached the car, Dean was feeling a little nauseous so he pulled the keys out and tossed them to Sam. "You drive."

Blinking, Sam stared for a few moments. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Dean said gruffly. He pulled the passenger door open and climbed into the car before Sam could say anything else.

While Sam got settled behind the wheel Dean leaned against the passenger doors. He could feel a dull throb in his chest and rubbed at it slowly. When he looked at the palm of his hand it was covered in blood.

"You alright, Dean?" Sam's worried face turned towards Dean as he drove towards the motel.

"Just get us home, Sammy."

They were quiet for the rest of the drive. Perhaps it was for different reasons. Sam was probably still shocked. Dean was trying to just get back to the motel without completely losing his shit.

He was pissed off at himself. Sam shouldn't have been with him. More importantly, Dean didn't like making mistakes. He never should have let the vamp get one over on him; he'd been hunting too long to make mistakes that ended with him being hurt. With Sam relying on him, Dean needed to be far more careful than he ever had been before.

His chest ached and Dean knew he was probably going to have to give himself some stitches and that would probably traumatize Sam even more.

When the car turned, Dean realized that he'd been sitting there with his eyes closed. He was relieved when he saw the familiar flashing neon of the Blue Danube. He'd never been more relieved to see such a lame motel.

When Sam turned the car off the silence was a little bit deafening. Dean cleared his throat and shifted towards the door. "I need a drink."

Dean didn't reach for the door handle until Sam had opened his own. Dean couldn't help groaning as he stood; his chest hurt and blood was pounding through his body. The motel tilted sideways in front of Dean for a few moments then righted itself when Dean blinked.

"Dean? You sure you're okay?" The furrows in Sam's brow gave away exactly how worried he was. Yet another reason for Dean to be annoyed with himself.

"M'good," Dean mumbled as he headed over to where Sam was waiting.

Sam's eyes widened when Dean stepped into the circle of light in front of their door. "Whose blood - is that?"

Dean glanced down at the arm he still held tightly across his chest. There was blood visible along the length of his arm and down to the bottom of his undershirt. "Bit of both; me and those pieces of shit."

It took a couple of moments for Sam to move again but when he did he unlocked the door quickly and pushed it open for Dean. He reached out to help Dean then withdrew his hand quickly when Dean looked at him.

"Lock us in, Sammy," Dean said gruffly. The room was starting to tilt again and Dean widened his stance. The lock clicked into place behind him and he heard Sam close the curtains.

Then everything went a little strange. All Dean could hear was a buzzing in his ears and the room seemed to be getting darker and darker.

"Dean?"

The floor came up quickly under Dean's knees but, strangely he didn't feel any pain when they hit.

"Fuck," Sam said somewhere off in the buzzing space of the motel room.

Dean felt Sam's arms around him and he managed to get to his feet long enough to reach the bed. When he laid down, Dean let his arms fall to his sides and heard Sam's sudden intake of breath.

Ah. The slash on his chest might well be worse than Dean had hoped.

The room began to settle again once Dean was lying down but the frown on Sam's face became clearer by the second. "It's okay, Sam."

Sam shook his head and pulled Dean's shirt open then peeled off the blood-soaked t-shirt.

The wound protested and Dean looked down to see a hell of a lot of blood and a slice that was about a foot long. There was still blood seeping slowly from the gash and Dean let his head sink back down onto the pillow.

"I need to get you to a hospital," Sam said. He moved away for a few moments and returned with a towel that he pressed to Dean's torso.

But Dean shook his head. There was no way he was going to a hospital. Not only would it probably mean staying there for a night and leaving Sam alone, but fake ID was something that Dean hadn't even begun to explain to Sam. "No hospitals, Sam. You can take care of me."

It was Sam's turn to shake his head. Still applying pressure to Dean's chest, Sam gazed into Dean's eyes. "Dean, you need a lot of stitches and probably antibiotics. Maybe even blood. I can't take care of all that."

Before saying anything else Dean took a deep breath. As his lungs filled pain sliced across his chest and he bit down on his bottom lip.

Panic flashed in Sam's eyes and he sat down at Dean's side. "I can't - we need to get you some help. This is crazy. If it were me you'd make me go and get it taken care -"

"No!" Dean raised his voice in the hopes that he could break through Sam's mounting panic. "Get the small duffle bag from the closet."

There was a muscle twitching in Sam's jaw and the hands that held the towel to Dean's chest were trembling. "Dean-"

"Now, Sam. Get the bag and I'll tell you what to do," Dean said firmly. The last thing he needed was Sam losing his shit.

After a few heartbeats too many Sam grabbed Dean's hand and made him hold the towel. Then Sam headed over to the closet and yanked the duffel bag out.

Without Dean saying anything else Sam opened the bag and pulled out a small first aid kit.

"There are those disinfectant wipe things in there but grab the whisky first." Dean nodded in the direction of the bottle that was on the table.

For a moment it looked as though Sam might protest but then he set the supplies down and went over to grab the bottle.

Dean snatched the bottle out of Sam's hand and unscrewed the cap quickly so he could drink down enough to make his throat burn and his eyes water.

"Wh-what do I do?" There was no confidence in Sam's wavering voice.

The bottle sloshed when Dean held it out to Sam. "First, have a drink."

Sam shook his head then winced when Dean grabbed his wrist. "Drink. It'll settle your nerves. Don't want you messin up the pretty."

Dean wasn't entirely sure what he'd said was true but it didn't seem like it could make anything much worse.

Finally, Sam took the bottle and took a drink. When he lowered the bottle he wiped his mouth.

"Now, pour it on the cut. Fastest way to clean and disinfect," Dean said.

But Sam was already shaking his head. "That's not a good idea - I should-"

"Sam," Dean warned. "Just do what I asked you to do; I've done this a lot of times - Jesus Christ."

Sam had tipped the bottle before Dean had even finished and the whisky had ignited the flame of pain across Dean's chest.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to breathe normally. He knew the pain would fade away but, holy shit, it sucked.

"Now what?" There was still a waver in Sam's voice but he didn't sound quite as panicky as he had moments earlier.

"Can you clean up a bit of the blood for me? Gotta see what we're doing."

Sam nodded and disappeared again to return with a wet hand towel. He swept the cloth over Dean's chest. "You're okay, Sammy."

"I'm really not" Sam answered quickly. Apparently, he didn't need to think about it.

"I meant: this is okay." Dean fumbled the words a little when the towel ran over a particularly sensitive part of the wound. "Stopped bleeding?"

"It's slowed down," Sam said but he didn't exactly sound pleased.

"It's gonna need stitches."

"That is what people go to hospitals for, Dean." The furrows in Sam's brow were even more pronounced and Dean covered his eyes with his hand for a few moments.

"I'd rather you did it, Sam. It'll be fine. I've done them myself before but this would be tricky because of where it is."

Sam worked silently as he continued to clean the blood off Dean's chest and stomach.

"Please, Sammy. I don't wanna end up staying in the hospital. They won't let you stay with me because we're not family."

It looked as though Dean's words had the desired effect because Sam finally looked up. He rested his hand on Dean's chest and pressed his lips together.

"Dean, I've never done anything like - like stitching someone up." Sam's thumb moved slowly over Dean's chest. "I don't know if I can do it."

"Sure ya can. Don't you want to get even with me for makin' you go on this stupid hunt?" Dean really needed to get Sam working on the wound or it would end up an infected mess.

Shaking his head, Sam sat back a little and stared down at Dean. "It wasn't your - look, whatever. How the hell do I do this?"

It took a while for Dean to guide Sam through the process of stitching up the gash on his chest. He'd drunk quite a bit by the time Sam was ready to start.

Dean knew he had to try and be pretty damned stoic while Sam was stitching. "I'm sorry about this ... mess, Sam. It's not how I thought it would play out."

Sam took a deep breath and pressed the needle to through Dean's skin.

The pain wasn't the worst that Dean had ever experienced but it was a pretty sensitive area. He gritted his teeth through the first few stitches.

The look on Sam's face was one of intense concentration. His tongue was caught between his teeth and his eyes were narrowed. He was even close enough that Dean could feel breath ghosting over his aching flesh. Surprisingly, it felt good.

"You've been hurt worse than this, I guess," Sam said quietly as he finished stitch number five.

"Yeah. Quite a few times." The puncture of the needle made Dean wince; he reached out for Sam's thigh and held on tightly." Remember when I had to stay with Bobby before I came back to the island to get you?"

Sam nodded but didn't look away from the neat line of stitches.

"That was the worst one in a while. Didn't know where I was for a fuckin' week." It hadn't been pretty but Bobby had always been a pretty good nurse.

"You could have been killed."

"And give up all this?" Dean gestured to the motel room. It wasn't that great and he'd even started to pick better quality places since he'd had Sam along with him.

The needle jabbed a little harder into Dean's chest and he couldn't help the way his muscles tightened. "Jesus."

"Sorry," Sam said flatly. "You're never serious about this shit."

"What shit?" The alcohol was making Dean feel a little numb and he tried to sit up. Sam's hands pressed him back down onto the mattress.

"Hunting, getting hurt, dying," Sam answered. His fingers continued their work once Dean was settled.

"No - I mean fuck, Sam. I can't think about this all the time. I sure wouldn't be a great hunter if I did." Dean knew what Sam was getting at but he didn't want to have the argument right at that moment.

"Does it scare you at all?" Another stab of pain hit Dean and he realized he was digging his fingers into the meat of Sam's thigh.

"I think," Dean said through gritted teeth, "different things scare me. It's not the same shit that scares other people."

"Like what?" Maybe Sam was trying to distract Dean from the pain rather than lure him into an argument.

It didn't really matter. The whisky was sending a buzzing warmth through Dean's body. He may have had a bit more than he should have. "Don't wanna be possessed. That's why the tattoo."

For some reason, they hadn't spoken about the meaning behind the tattoo over Dean's heart until long after they'd left the island. Dean remembered the night they'd discussed it. For days he'd wondered what it would be like to see that tattoo on Sam's smooth chest.

"That's it?" Sam asked.

"No," Dean said quickly. "Going to Hell. Going to Heaven. Staying here."

"Doesn't sound like that leaves much," Sam said. His voice sounded a little sad.

Dean tried to lift his head up and focus on Sam's face but it was an awkward angle. "Know what I learned when I left the island?"

"Hmm?"

"Scared of bein' without you. Things didn't feel the same. Not at all." Dean could hear a buzz in his ears and took a deep breath. After a while he realized that Sam's hands weren't moving anymore. He cracked his eyes open to see Sam staring down at him. "What?"

Sam smiled but it looked a little sad. "That surprises me."

It wasn't the answer that Dean was expecting but then Sam always seemed a little insecure. The root of it was probably buried in some of those stories Sam had yet to tell him. "You and me; we're good-"

"Good?"

"You know what I mean. I've had too much I've had too much to whisky to make perfect sense." Dean rubbed at his eyes. He couldn't really blame Sam for having a lot of questions. This had been the first time that there had been a serious injury for Sam to deal with. It had to change things between them. Lost in his thoughts, Dean found it a little easier to ignore the bite of Sam's needle.

"Dean? It's done, Dean. You okay?"

"Yeah. I'll live to fight another day." Dean felt gingerly around the stitches. "Good work, Sam. You should do all the stitching."

"How about no more injuries," Sam said gruffly. "This isn't what I signed up for." Sam cleaned everything up quickly and stood up. He headed down to the bottom of the bed so he could pull Dean's boots off.

"C'mon, I bet you liked it a little." Dean managed to sit up on his second attempt. He had to blink a few times to steady his vision.

"No, Dean. I didn't like it at all." Sam headed over to the table. He sat down heavily on the closest chair and pulled his own boots off.

"I didn't plan it, Sam. I didn't want this either. Should have gone by myself." Dean pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. He looked at it then shrugged and balled it up and tossed it across the room to the garbage can. He missed.

"So, this is my fault? It happened because I was there?" Sam's voice was strangely flat; a little too even.

When whisky and stitches were involved Dean knew that he should keep his mouth shut. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then?" Even though Sam's voice was very quiet it was a little ominous. There was something sharper lurking under the surface of it.

Before things got out of hand Dean decided to try and make peace. "Sam? I'm sorry. I'm sore, I'm exhausted. I feel guilty as hell about all of this. Come to bed?"

Still for a few moments Sam just stared but he finally nodded.

Relieved, Dean slid himself very carefully to the edge of the bed and sat up slowly so he could slide his jeans off. He let them fall to the floor then rubbed his feet against the carpet until his socks slid off. His muscles were already aching and he was sure he would feel even worse in the morning. None of that would have compared to how shitty he would have felt if things had gotten worse between them.

Sam was really slow getting undressed. He folded his clothes and left them on the chair before padding over to the bed in his boxers. "You need anything?"

Dean shook his head. All he needed was Sam. He tugged at the quilt and struggled to get under it. The wound on his chest began to throb again but there was a little voice in his head that told him he deserved it.

The mattress dipped behind him and Dean pulled the quilt to his waist then reached for Sam's hand.

Their fingers twined together and Deans smiled. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

Sam squeezed Dean's fingers and rolled onto his side so he could reach over Dean to flick the lamp off. He leaned back a little then pressed his lips to the height of Dean's cheek bone.

The kiss felt a little strange to Dean. It felt like there was more to it then Dean was able to understand. Sam was still a mystery to Dean in so many ways. But, God he couldn't imagine being without Sam. They could still count their time together in days and months but Dean already knew he didn't want to go back to life before Sam. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam shifted closer and his warm breath glided across the flesh of Dean's shoulder.

"You know I love you, right?" The words came far easier to Dean than he had expected. He'd never said it to anyone before and it wasn't as though he had planned it. But it was time.

Sam held his breath for a while and then he sighed and moved closer to kiss Dean's shoulder. "Get some sleep."

If it weren't for the heat of Sam's body next to him Dean would be a little worried. He didn't need to hear Sam say how much he felt but the whole night had been bizarre. "Night, Sammy."

-=-=-=-

When Dean woke up he felt like he'd been hit by a truck. Twice. There was a small crack between the curtains and the sunlight was slicing across the room. It certainly wasn't early and Dean rarely slept in.

He tried to roll away from the light and winced. "Fuck."

"Chest?" Sam's voice came from somewhere across the room.

Dean frowned. "You're up already? Time is it?"

"Just past ten. I let you sleep. You were pretty beat up and you drank quite a lot." There was no judgement in Sam's tone but it stung a little.

Dean pushed himself up and pressed his hand over his chest. There was a dull ache along the hot line of stitches. "How come you're up?"

As Dean's eyes focused he could see that Sam was fully dressed. When Dean lowered his gaze he could see that Sam had his boots on and his duffel bag was packed and at his feet.

"Did I miss us planning to leave this morning?" Dean rubbed his hand back and forth over his hair a few times and swung his feet out of bed so he could sit up.

Sam was quiet for a little while then he cleared his throat. "I'm leaving."

"What?" Dean only half heard what Sam was saying. He grabbed his jeans off the chair then realized they were bloody. He tossed them aside and reached into his duffel bag for a clean pair.

"There's a bus that leaves here in about an hour and it heads towards the coast." Sam leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. His white-knuckled hands were clasped together tightly.

The words were starting to make sense in Dean's head. Or, at least, he was beginning to hear what Sam was saying. "What bus? What are you talking about?"

Dean pulled his jeans on and buttoned them quickly so he could sit down on the end of the bed opposite Sam.

"I've decided. I'm gonna go home."

"Home?" Dean's heart began to flutter too quickly in his chest. "Home where?"

"The island. Erma said I could go and stay with her if I wanted to. I called her a while back." Sam looked a little bit guilty and he dropped his gaze.

"A while back, huh?" Sam was saying he was leaving. Really leaving. And to Dean it was a little like being cold-cocked. He'd had no idea that Sam was feeling bad enough to want to go home. He couldn't help being a little pissed off. "Remember that talk we had about being honest, Sam? How we would be okay together if we talked shit out? It's weird because I remember that."

Before he looked up Sam nodded. "You're right. But this - I don't know. I thought maybe things would be okay. But last night - " Sam just shook his head.

"What? What about last night?" Exasperation made Dean raise his voice and he regretted it slightly when he saw Sam flinch. But, fuck. Leaving? And he'd put some thought into it and not even once spoken to Dean about it. That wasn't how things were supposed to be working out.

"You have every right to be pissed. De-"

"- You bet I do. Not just that you want to leave but that you didn't even say a word to me about it. Not one word. how can I fix that if I don't know what's going on?" Dean's heart was racing. The idea that Sam might be about to walk out the door forever was making Dean a little crazy.

"This isn't something you can fix. I can't do this, Dean." Sam shoved his hair back from his forehead and sat back heavily on the chair.

Dean's mind was beginning to buzz with Sam's words. Sure, Sam was giving a kind of explanation for things but he really wasn't saying much of anything. "What can't you do anymore, Sam? You wanna elaborate a little bit? 'Cause I'm in the dark here."

When Sam looked up his leg was twitching; he looked like the seat was heating up and he was ready to run. Dean had some experience with Sam running from things so it wasn't like it would be a surprise.

"Dean, I can't watch you get hurt. I can't go hunting, killing people and -"

"- Those things weren't people, Sam. They were vampires. They were killing people, Sam. Don't you get that?"

"No. I mean I do. But this isn't my world, Dean." Sam's voice was strained and he leaned towards Dean again. "I don't think I - I can't live like this. It's crazy."

"It's crazy now? Am I crazy? Is that what you're saying, Sam? Without what I do a hell of a lot more people would be dead. I can't know what I know and not do anything about it. That would make me a monster and I can't live with that." Dean stood and paced over to the window. He couldn't keep looking at the way Sam was sitting there all hurt and saying such crap.

"I should just go," Sam said softly.

Dean heard the words but he didn't hear Sam make any movement at all. "Does it matter what I want? Or is this all about you?" Dean turned to look at Sam.

There was a strange expression on Sam's face. He looked a little frightened and more than a little trapped. It got under Dean's skin and worried at his conscience.

"It matters," Sam answered quietly.

"Well," Dean began. "I don't want you to leave. Last night was a shitty situation but it doesn't mean that you need to bail on me. You're giving up on us because of one stupid thing." Dean didn't know what to do with himself. There was part of him that wanted to shake Sam, make him understand how much he cared. Dean felt a little like it had always been an uphill battle with Sam.

"Don't be like that. You think I want to be without you, Dean?" Sam's eyes were blazing with indignation.

"Yes, Sam. That's exactly what I think because that's what you're telling me you're doing. You're fucking leaving. How am I supposed to think that means you want to stay?" Dean strode over to his bag and pulled out an old t-shirt. The motel room suddenly felt way too small. He yanked the t-shirt down over his head.

"I'm not losing anyone else," Sam said. He stood so quickly that the chair tilted back and banged against the wall. "You don't know what I've lost. You can't say that I should stay here and watch you die."

Dean rounded on Sam. "If I don't know things about you, Sam, it's because you don't open up. What am I supposed to do? Read your mind? You're absolutely fuckin' right. I have no idea what you've lost."

Sam tried to bend down and grabbed his bag from the floor but Dean crowded into his space and grabbed his broad shoulders to stand him back up. "You wanna know what I do know? If you walk out that door you're gonna lose someone who loves you. If you want to lose that then you've always been free to go."

When Dean let go of Sam's shoulders they both stepped back. Dean glared at Sam for a few long heartbeats and then walked over to lean against the wall by the door. If Sam really was going to leave then he was going to have to walk right past Dean.

The line of Sam's shoulders sank and he waited there a long time. Finally, he bent down and picked up his bag. He walked over to the door and stopped beside Dean.

"If you died, Dean. If I lost you I'd have nothing." Sam's voice cracked as he leaned in to press his lips to the corner of Dean's mouth.

The whole thing made no sense to Dean. It felt like Sam was giving up the one thing that he was most afraid of losing. It was insane.

Dean grabbed Sam's wrist and held him there, pulled him even closer. When he spoke his lips moved against Sam's chin. "Just tell me that you don't love me, Sam. You tell me that and I won't say another word. Just tell me."

Sam's sharp intake of breath was his only answer for the longest time. "Don't..."

"You owe me that, Sam. At least then I'll know." Dean's fingers were gripping Sam's wrist so tightly that it had to be hurting him. But there was no way Dean was going to let go.

Sam shook his head back and forth slowly and Dean's heart sank.

"Dean. Don't ask me to lie to you. Please." Sam's voice was deep and wavered as though he was close to tears.

"You say it if you're gonna leave because that will be it for me." It wouldn't be it. If Sam walked out that motel room door Dean wouldn't even know what to do with himself.

Before Sam, Dean's life had been about hunting. Everything had changed when Dean had gone to that stupid lighthouse. The first time he'd really gotten a look at Sam, Dean had realized that there was something special about him. It wasn't just the way that Sam looked. It was so much more. Dean wasn't the kind of man who had the words to describe it all. He just knew it.

"I can't say that," Sam almost whispered. He shook his head again and smoothed his lips over Dean's. "I can't lose you."

It felt a little like the tide was changing but Dean still couldn't get himself to release Sam's wrist.

"You stayin'?" Dean asked gruffly. He needed to hear Sam say it.

For entirely too long Sam just stood there so close to Dean that it felt like they were breathing the air from each other's' lungs. Dean finally remembered to loosen his grip on Sam's wrist but he grabbed his hip instead. He didn't want to let go of him completely.

"Don't get hurt like that again," Sam begged softly. "I've got no one else and I don't think I can make it if i lose you. I-"

"I can't promise I won't get hurt, Sam. But I can teach you how to have my back. Just stay." It was the best that Dean could put together and he wouldn't ask again. It wouldn't be fair on either of them.

"It has to go slow," Sam said softly.

Dean nodded and grabbed Sam's other hip with his free hand. "I don't wanna be without you, Sam. We work together, y'know?"

Relief washed over Dean when Sam nodded.

"Good," murmured Dean. "Good."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Sammy. Just talk to me. I know I'm not always good at it either. But we've gotta try."

Sam nodded again but there was still a look of fear on his face.

There had to be a place, a way for them to slow things down a little. Sam just needed more confidence and he needed to see Dean come home time and again after hunts.

"I have an idea, Sam."

-=-=-=-

Sam stood on the front porch of the old cabin and stared out at the deep blue lake that stretched out in front of them. "It's so quiet."

"It is," Dean answered. "Bobby's. Just one of the places we have when we need some down time."

"I can see why. But ..." Sam turned his head towards Dean and frowned. "Downtime?"

"I told Bobby that I could only do small jobs, local. Told him I'm taking some time off." He hadn't told Sam earlier because he wasn't completely convinced Sam would think it was a good idea. But when he'd seen the look on Sam's face as they pulled up to the cabin Dean knew it was a good choice. Sam's eyes had lit up when he'd seen the lake. Maybe all that clear, blue water reminded him of the island.

"How long can we stay?" Sam walked over to where Dean was leaning against the wall. His long fingers curled over Dean's belt and he tugged gently.

Dean smiled. "As long as it takes. I'll go hunt for a bit on and off and I'll come home to you at the end of every hunt. One day you'll just know to expect me. Maybe then we can go hunting together."

A lot of the tension in Sam's face had disappeared and Dean sighed happily. He'd finally managed to make the right decision. He'd finally put the smile back on Sam's face. It felt really fucking good. "You look happy."

Sam nodded and leaned in to kiss a path along the bold line of Dean's jaw.

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a yes," Sam said against the sensitive flesh of Dean's throat. "Thank you."

"If it gets me more of this we can stay even longer." All of Dean's skin was tingling as though Sam's lips were bringing it all to life. That hadn't changed since the very first time Sam had touched him.

For the first time in too long Sam laughed. Hot breath slithered down Dean's neck and made his heart beat a little faster. "Lemme show you inside."

Dean struggled to swallow as he slid out from under the heat of Sam's body. He dug in his pocket for the keys and then unlocked the cabin door.

It was dark and a little musty inside but Dean couldn't help feeling a little like he was coming home. There weren't very many places in the world that made Dean feel as though he was at home. Bringing Sam there made it even more so..

"I like it," Sam said from just behind Dean's shoulder.

"Good. You're gonna be here for a while. It's home." Dean headed over to the first door and pushed it open. "Bathroom, some kind of composting something-or-other toilet. All I know is that it works."

There was an enclosed shower in the corner and Dean gestured towards it. "Hot water through some other creation."

Sam laughed and turned towards the open part of the cabin behind them. "Kitchen and living room. What's behind door number two and three?"

"Basement stairs. Don't bother with that for now." Dean gestured towards the remaining closed door. "Bedroom."

Without a moment's hesitation, Sam strode over the bedroom door and pulled it open.

Dean followed along behind Sam and watched as he took everything in. It hadn't changed. There was one huge bed in the middle of the room. There was a brass frame that Dean had asked about once. Bobby had told him to mind his own business.

"Bobby's bedroom."

"Ours while we're here." Dean really didn't want to think about Bobby and the bedroom.

"Interesting," Sam said as he brushed past Dean to head out and investigate some more.

Dean wasn't sure what was interesting about the bedroom but he trailed along behind Sam.

He just watched for a while. Sam moved around the cabin looking at different things. Even Dean had to admit there were some strange things in the cabin.

Sam spent a lot of time near the bookshelves that extended the length of one wall. He ran his hand along the spines of the books, stopping once or twice to peer at a title. "Weird books."

"Occupational hazard."

"I guess." Sam smiled and moved on to the old desk in the corner of the main room. He picked up an old mason jar and held it up to his eyes before putting it back down quickly. "I don't even wanna know."

"Probably not." Dean ran his hand over his hair and then rubbed at the back of his neck. "There's a lot of weird stuff here. But the good thing is this is probably the safest place in the damn world. Bobby has it warded against everything."

"A supernatural safe house?" Sam smiled and picked up a small bundle of sage and held it up to his nose.

"Yeah, I guess it is." Dean headed over to the couch and sat down. He liked the cabin. It was one of the only places in the world where Dean relaxed completely.

"There's a TV?" Sam looked a little surprised.

"Well, only VHS movies. Tried to get Bobby to switch to a DVD player but he said he already had all the movies he needed and wanted."

As Sam headed over to the couch he laughed. "I really would like to meet him one day."

The couch cushions bounced when Sam sat down beside Dean. "What now?"

"I'll bring in the groceries and we can have something to eat."

Grinning, Sam leaned over and kissed Dean's bottom lip.

It was at that moment that Dean decided the cabin had been a very good choice.

-=-=-=-

The beer in Dean's hand was cold and he pressed it to his forehead; it felt good. He'd eaten two burgers at dinner and felt like he was in a meat coma.

They were sitting outside on the wide porch steps in the cool evening air. It was comfortable and Dean was feeling at home.

Sam set his beer down and spun on his ass so he could lay down and rest his head on Dean's thigh. "I love it here."

Dean nodded. There was enough of a breeze that there were actually some small waves on the lake. The sound was quiet but Dean knew Sam would like it.

"I didn't tell you the entire truth," Sam said quietly.

Almost afraid to say anything, Dean just rested his hand on Sam's chest. He was sure he could feel Sam's heart racing.

"I met my father once when I was about sixteen."

Dean set his beer down and stared down at Sam. He nodded and rubbed his hand slowly back and forth on Sam's t-shirt.

"There was this agency that helped people find biological parents. It took a long time but they tracked down my father."

It was a little different than what Sam had first told him but Dean understood. "Did you meet him?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah. Long story short; I went to his house to meet him. We'd spoken on the phone once and he wasn't very talkative but I figured it was nerves, you know?"

Dean nodded again but stayed silent. He stilled his hand over Sam's heart.

"He didn't want anything to do with me. Said he hadn't wanted me in the first place. He told me that he'd told my mother to have an abortion but she didn't want to. I can't imagine that she had a good life."

It was just like Sam to try and be nice to a complete stranger. Dean didn't know a thing about them but he already thought they were pretty shitty people.

"Anyway. He said I had probably turned out just like her. She wasn't worth the skin that was wasted on her. I'll never forget that. Don't know how anyone could say something so horrible about another person. Someone they..." Sam shrugged.

Cruelty never surprised Dean anymore. With all the hunting he did he always found that it was humans who dealt the worst blows. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, Sam."

Instead of answering directly, Sam covered Dean's hand with his own. "She was already dead when I met him. He told me she was a junkie and a whore but I have no way of knowing if it was even the truth."

Sam pressed his lips together for a while and stared up at the darkening sky. "He said a lot that day. I swear I can still repeat nearly every word. But I couldn't help feeling like he was telling the truth. Maybe I was just like her."

The things that Sam was saying were so wrong but Dean could see why a sixteen year old would take all that to heart. It explained a little bit more about Sam. "Sam, you know that's not true, right? That guy, Jesus. I'm not sure what kind of fucked up you have to be to say that stuff to a kid."

"I know that's what I'm supposed to think. But, I've spent a lot of time thinking about how he might be right. I could never talk to people the right way-"

"Sam. That's not who you are," Dean interrupted. "You're nothing like that. Hell, you're probably one of the best people I've ever met. There are some fuckin' awful people in the world, Sam. You're definitely not one of them."

Sam looked up at Dean; his eyes were wide and he actually looked a little surprised at how vehement Dean was. "You're biased."

It took a moment or two for Dean to realize that Sam was actually trying to hide a smile. He smiled and shook his head. "I'm not biased. I've met a lot of people and you're better than maybe seventy-five per cent of them."

"Seventy-five huh?"

"Maybe sixty-five. It's not like I counted." Dean smirked and flicked his finger at the end of Sam's nose.

Sam rolled into Dean and knocked him backwards onto the porch. His head thumped against the wood and his leg knocked his beer over.

"You wasted perfectly good beer," Dean growled. "I'm gonna have your ass for that."

"You make that sound dirty." Sam's laughter was low and soft.

"A guy can hope." Dean slid his hand back down Sam's back, over his ass and ran his thumb along the waistband of Sam's jeans. He loved the way that Sam's body twitched and jumped under his touch.

"You know I'm a sure thing," Sam said in a gravelly voice.

"Good. Get inside," Dean ordered.

Both men climbed to their feet and headed into their temporary home.

Sam closed up the door and reset the salt line in front of it. He'd paid careful attention to all of the protective measures that were put in place. It was almost like Sam finally felt like he had a role in the hunting world.

Dean stood back and smiled as he watched Sam. "I won't need to worry about any of this protection stuff now you're around."

"You should probably double check what I do." Sam frowned as he looked at the sigil on the back of the door.

"Why? I trust you," Dean said easily. There really was no one he'd rather trust with his safety. It was a good feeling and it was a new feeling for Dean.

After a last look at Sam, Dean wandered down the hall to the bedroom. He didn't even question whether Sam would follow him. Sam was never very far away from Dean.

Dean pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it over the bed frame. he toed his boots off then headed over to the mirror to have a look at his stitches. The skin near the wound was still red but it wasn't infected. It would always be a strange reminder of the day Sam had almost left him.

"What you thinking about?"

When Dean looked over at the doorway, Sam was leaning against the door frame. Dean had to take a few moments to take in the lean length of Sam's body. "Was thinkin' about you."

"Anything good?" Sam's smile was warm and familiar.

"Always." Dean unbuckled his belt and headed over to the bed. He slipped his jeans down over his hips and stepped out of them before tossing them onto the bed.

"Goin' to bed early?" Sam's voice sounded a little lower.

"If you're comin' with me." There wasn't a doubt in Dean's mind that Sam was going to join him. Sam was staring at Dean, his eyes had made it down to Dean's tight boxers.

Dean lifted his eyebrows and held out his hand.

Sam sauntered towards him and stood right in front of Dean.

As close as they were Dean could smell the warm scent of Sam. He knew it better than he knew anything else. His hands reached for Sam's hips and gripped tightly. He loved the way Sam was so solid and strong. He was everything alive and warm and good and Dean never wanted to lose him.

When Dean looked up he could see Sam's cheeks were flushed red. As he watched, Sam bit down on his bottom lip. It was a good look for him.

"Tell me again how you're gonna stay with me," Dean said in a gruff voice.

"I'm staying with you," Sam said easily. At least there didn't seem to be a question left in Sam's mind.

Dean knew that it may come up again. They couldn't stay at the cabin forever. And Dean would never quit hunting. There was always the chance that things would get easier for Sam to deal with as he was exposed to more things.

Sam's strong hands slid over Dean's shoulders. "Lost in thought."

Shaking his head slowly, Dean smiled up at Sam. "Just thinkin' about you some more. Think I'm beginning to realize how bad it would have been to lose you."

Dean had never been the kind of guy who relied on people, or needed them for that matter, but there was something very visceral about the way he needed Sam. It was scary and intoxicating at the same time.

"Hey," Sam said softly.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. Long day." Dean pulled Sam closer to him and leaned into him. He loved the way Sam could just let Dean hold his weight.

Sam's hands moved up the sides of Dean's neck and into his hair. Very gently, Sam pulled Dean's head back so their gazes could meet. He smiled and smoothed his hands back down to Dean's shoulders. "I'm here."

Nodding, Dean tucked his fingertips under the hem of Sam's old t-shirt. Sam's skin was hot to the touch, smooth and Dean ran his fingers back and forth.

He watched as Sam closed his eyes and chewed on his lip.

The bedroom felt a little warmer and Dean could feel sweat beading on his forehead. Still looking up at the flushed cheeks on Sam's face, Dean moved his fingers around to unbuckle Sam's belt then unzip his jeans.

Dean parted the denim with his hands and finally looked down to see the smooth skin of Sam's bare hips. He slid his hands right around to Sam's ass so the jeans would fall down to his thighs.

"Commando, Sammy?"

Sam shrugged with a crooked smile on his face. He widened his stance and let out a quiet breath. He was already hard.

Dean had barely touched Sam but they were both turned on already. Maybe it was the weight of the day or maybe it was just that Sam was so gorgeous that Dean could stare at him all day.

Sam's jeans fell to the floor and he struggled to get out of his boots so he could step out of his jeans. As soon as his feet were free Sam reached up and pulled his t-shirt off. Then he just stood there, cock hard, muscles taut and stared down at Dean.

"Okay, then." Dean's voice was low and it felt like all his blood was racing around his body. Every heartbeat left him feeling a little more lightheaded. God, he was lucky.

Dean ran his palms up over Sam's abs, along the curves of his muscular chest. He flicked his thumb over Sam's nipples and smirked when Sam's teeth sank into his bottom lip once more.

Sam's hips pressed forward and Dean grabbed them again so he could move Sam back. He stood and he was so close to Sam he could feel the heat radiating off his body.

He tilted his chin up slightly and his lips brushed over Sam's chin. He could see that Sam was trembling and heat ripped through Dean's body. He made Sam shake like that.

After he licked his lips, Dean slid them across Sam's.

Sam's hands slid around Dean's waist and he dug his nails in.

"Dean, c'mon."

Oh, Dean liked to make Sam wait. The impatient way Sam would ask for more, sooner, faster, always made Dean's balls throb.

It wasn't that kind of night, though.

Dean grabbed Sam's muscular arms and spun him around so he could push him down onto the bed.

All laid out like that, Sam was like a fucking living statue. All that honey colored flesh belonged to Dean and he knew Sam would let him do whatever he wanted.

He knelt between Sam's legs and lowered himself slowly until his body was pressed against Sam's. The firm heat was a little mind-blowing and Dean had to pause and take a deep breath.

Their eyes locked again and Dean tilted his hips forward to rub their cocks together. Sam threw his head back and let out a loud moan. It was a fucking beautiful sound and Dean's heart skipped around in his chest.

Dean threaded his fingers through Sam's and pinned his hands to the mattress above their heads.

Sam resisted enough that Dean had to concentrate. Sam hated not being able to touch Dean's body; it drove him crazy. But it was the perfect kind of crazy.

Dean pushed himself up until he could straddle Sam's hips. The heat of Sam's cock felt awesome against Dean's balls and he moved his hips back and forth a few times

"Dean," Sam's voice was quiet and tinged with warning.

"What're ya gonna do? Throw me off?" Dean raised his eyebrows briefly then dove down to bite at Sam's neck.

The mattress jolted as Sam's spine arched up off the bed. He loved when Dean kissed and bit at his neck and Dean knew it. There was nothing that turned him on more than watching Sam as he was reduced to a quivering mess.

"Dean." Sam's voice had weakened a little and he sucked in a sharp breath.

But Dean was patient. He licked at the salty sweat on Sam's throat then dragged his teeth down over Sam's Adam's apple.

The twisting of Sam's body beneath him was making Dean feel a little drunk. He could feel all of Sam's muscles twitching beneath him and it reminded him of the power he had over his lover in those moments. He always wanted to be worthy of it. Always.

Finally, Dean let go of one of Sam's hands so he could reach between their bodies to slid his fingers over Sam's cock. Pre-come slid over Dean's thumb and he smiled as he reached Sam's mouth. "You want me bad."

Even as turned on as he was Sam managed a half-hearted attempt to roll his eyes. Then his hand found Dean's hard-on and squeezed.

Dean leaned his forehead against Sam's and his next breath out was far more of a shudder. Okay. So Sam had made his point. The want was definitely mutual. "You're gonna pay for that."

For a couple of moments Sam looked a little concerned then his expression turned a little predatory.

Dean could feel that look everywhere in his body. Noone had ever gotten to him the way Sam did.

Groaning, Dean climbed off Sam's body and rolled onto his back. He dragged one of the pillows under his head and tucked his arms beneath it. "Get to it, Sammy."

For entirely too long Sam stared at Dean with his mouth open slightly. Then very slowly his gaze trailed over Dean's body to his swollen cock.

Dean could see Sam's eyes darken and it suited him. Fuck, everything suited Sam.

"You asked for it," Sam warned. He sat up quickly and slung a leg over both of Dean's so he could kneel there and take in the flesh stretched out below him.

It was easy to see how much Sam liked Dean's body. Dean had never been particularly vain but he loved the way Sam looked at him. There was a hunger on Sam's face that made Dean ache.

In an uncharacteristically brazen display, Sam kneeled up higher and stretched his arms up above his head for a few moments. Then he slid his hands down over his chest, along the sharp cut of his hip bones and then curled his fingers around his long cock.

Dean was torn between looking at Sam's hand sliding slowly up and down the length of his own cock and his face.

When Sam was turned on he looked so fucking good that it was almost impossible to stay away from him. His eyes were barely open but Dean could see they were dark and glazed over. There was a sheen of sweat on his neck and shoulders that made his skin glisten.

Dean licked his lips as he watched Sam's fingers curl around his hard flesh a little tighter. There was no way that Sam was getting himself off though; not if Dean had any say in the matter.

Dean reached out for his jeans and fumbled with the material until he was able to get the small bottle of lube out of his back pocket.

It made Sam pause when he saw it. His lips turned upward into a sly smile. "You're like, the MacGyver of sex."

"Just like to be prepared," Dean said gruffly.

"Uh huh." Sam's smile softened as his fingers swept over Dean's palm to take the lube.

As Dean watched, Sam opened the bottle and tapped it against his palm. Then he reached down and spread the cool liquid on Dean's cock.

The touch made Dean sink his teeth into his tongue. Cool spread over heat was the kind of sensation that made Dean's brain melt.

Sam slid his palm up and down Dean's hardness then he shifted forward and let the head of Dean's cock nestle into the fiery heat behind his balls.

It was almost too much. Dean rolled his shoulders back into the mattress and urged Sam on with a roll of his hips. His cock slid further back and he felt the tightness of Sam's hole.

While Dean was trying to concentrate on not coming, Sam stayed on his knees. He kept the heat of his body just out of reach of Dean's aching flesh.

"Sam." There was a burn of irritation in Dean's voice. He wanted to be inside Sam; he wanted the tight heat that always made him feel like his heart might explode.

There was no more messing around from Sam. He made that clear instantly. Leaning back, Sam let the head of Dean's cock press into his ass.

Dean knew he should take his time; let Sam adjust to the intrusion but, fuck, after the fighting, the fear of losing Sam he just wantedhim. Maybe he wanted Sam more than he ever had.

Their bodies came together with the familiarity of practiced lovers. Sam panted through the pain of the stretch while Dean smoothed his palms up and down his lover's tight thighs.

Sam let out a hiss of hot breath as Dean finally slid completely into his body.

The heat and clench made Dean's arousal throb. He could feel it everywhere in his body like a quick burning fuse. His nails dug into Sam's flesh until he pushed up onto his elbows so he could be that much closer to his lover's body.

Never close enough.

Dean gave in to the urge to thrust his hips upwards. Sam groaned and let his head fall back.

Each thrust made Dean's heart beat faster. He could hear every sweet noise that Sam was making. He drank up the sound of pleasure until he couldn't stand it.

Struggling up, Dean managed to get an arm around Sam's waist. He encouraged Sam to roll his hips, guided him to lift almost off his cock and then slide back down. It was amazing and hot and Dean's lungs ached with every breath he managed to heave into his lungs.

The two men's bodies moved together hard and fast in a steady rhythm. Dean gripped Sam's hip and stared up at his flushed face.

Wisps of hair were caught against Sam's sweaty cheeks. His skin was nearly all flushed and ruddy. In between moans and soft cries Sam's breath was harsh. His body was in constant motion.

The longer Sam rode Dean's aching cock the closer he felt to his orgasm. His balls were swollen and ached each time the weight of Sam's body dropped down onto him.

Then Sam's hips slowed, he leaned forward and trailed his fingers down Dean's chest.

It was enough. Sam's eyes were locked with Dean's as he continued to rock the length of Dean's cock in and out of his body.

Dean tried to fill his lungs one last time and then pleasure was unravelling in his body. His balls squeezed up against his body and then his throbbing cock was pumping come deep inside Sam.

Sam grabbed his own cock and his fingers moved erratically for a few moments. He heaved in a breath and his mouth fell open as his release pumped onto Dean's belly and chest.

With his head still spinning Dean felt his body twitch uncontrollably as all the pleasure drained away slowly.

Sam collapsed forward and crushed the breath out of Dean's lungs. "Fuck."

Dean wheezed but he didn't really mind the weight of his lover's body. It was strangely comforting.

The dead weight of Sam's body shifted slightly after a while. He let out a loan groan and slid off Dean's slick body.

The cool air from the window felt good against Dean's skin. He reached out and threaded his fingers through Sam's and held on tightly.

There were probably things Dean could say. He could tell Sam how good the sex was. He could tell Sam that he had felt his orgasm everywhere in his body. He could say he loved Sam again -

- But that hadn't gone so well the first time he'd said it.

"Dean?" Sam rolled onto his side and flung a sweat-sticky arm across Dean's waist.

"Mhmm?" Dean licked his lips then turned his head slightly to kiss Sam's forehead.

"I love you. You know that, right?" Sam asked.

A different kind of heat spiralled through Dean's body and balled up in his chest. "I do now, Sammy."

The smile on Dean's face lingered until he finally fell asleep. He didn't let go of Sam's hand the entire night.

-=-=-=- Six months later -=-=-=-

"Did you load the shotgun?" Dean asked.

Sam was setting things in the trunk of the car and he stopped for a moment to glare over at Dean. "You've asked me that twice already."

Leaning against the front fender, Dean grinned. "And how did you answer?"

"Yes, Dean. I loaded the shotgun."

Dean smirked and stretched his arms high above his head. "Just yankin' your chain, Sam."

"You really are." When the trunk slammed closed Sam walked over to lean against the car right at Dean's side.

"You're bossy" Sam murmured as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on Dean's temple.

"Last hunt for a while then we'll hang around here for a while, okay?" Dean asked.

He hadn't been wrong about Sam. Sam was a very good hunter and he was about ninety per cent accurate when it came to shooting.

When Dean climbed into his car Sam was already settled. Without opening his eyes Sam reached over and squeezed Dean's arm.

Dean started up the car and grinned. Sam was right where he should be. Right at Dean's side.

-=-=-=- The End -=-=-=-

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of The Lighthouse