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For Warnings and Summary, see Master Post
Chapter Six
Dean woke up with Sam tangled around his body. He flexed his muscles experimentally and he had to stifle a groan. Jesus Christ, he was sore.
Early morning light was just starting to filter into the room, and the cheerful sounds of the waking forest were mildly annoying for some reason. Sam was still asleep, his face relaxed… he always looked kind of angelic when he slept. Innocent. Dean felt a swell of emotion he didn’t really want to analyze all that closely and forcefully stomped it down.
They had a deal to make with the devil today, but if it meant Sam wouldn’t have to live with what had happened to him anymore, it would be worth it. That would be worth anything.
He tightened his arms around Sam, closed his eyes and contemplated just staying there until his brother woke up, but… his eyes popped back open. They’d fallen asleep early the night before; he was tired of being in bed. Shifting carefully out of Sam’s grasp, he hobbled into the bathroom and shut the door quietly.
Last night had been awesome. Mind-blowing even. He grinned to himself as he turned the hot water in the shower on to heat up. Moving back to the mirror, he shared a pleased smirk with his reflection before inspecting the bite Sam had pressed into his chest. Sam’d broken skin; it was going to take a while to heal, but at least it didn’t need stitches or anything. He let his fingers play over the damaged skin and let his other hand travel up to cover the matching bite marks on his neck. He should be mad, but mostly, the idea of Sam’s marks on him left him with a pleasant warmth low in his belly, left him content.
Pretty soon, they wouldn’t remember any of this; pretty soon, the marks would be gone. Dean dropped his hands, and his smile vanished as his mind played over the possibilities. His heart clenched painfully; the last thing he wanted was to lose what he’d found with Sam, but… it’s not like there was a choice. If they could undo it, they would. There was no point in dwelling on it. Doing this would bring his brother some peace and delaying would only prolong the pain. Sam’s pain, and his own pain, because… yeah, no dwelling. Anyway… moving on…
He stepped into the shower, let the heat work its way into his muscles and toyed with the idea of waking Sam up to come join him. His dick perked up, a low, steady, aching need. Dean groaned. Shit, he didn’t think his ass could take another pounding.
He finished rinsing off and stepped out of the shower, throwing a towel around his waist before stepping out of the steam-filled room. Sam was out of bed and making coffee when Dean walked back in. His mood inexplicably plummeted, but he plastered a smile on his face anyway and walked into the room to start getting dressed. “Mornin’, sunshine. Why don’t you throw on some clothes and we can head over to Bobby’s. If we help him out, we can probably get this whole thing over with even faster.”
Sam stopped what he was doing. He didn’t even look up, just froze with his hand on the coffee maker. Dean finished pulling on his clothes and watched his brother out of the corner of his eye as he did. When he finally sat on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on, Sam still hadn’t moved.
“Sam?” he prompted.
His brother turned away from the coffee maker without turning it on and started jerkily throwing on his clothes. Dean leaned over and braced his arms on his legs, trying to figure out his brother’s mood. He stared at Sam with a perplexed look on his face, hoping it would get Sam to stop and talk to him, but his brother just ignored him. Finally, Dean slowly started putting his shoes on. By the time he finished putting them on, Sam had his hand on the door.
“Hold up, Sam…” Dean trailed off when Sam threw the door open, cutting him off.
“Going for a walk…” Sam muttered, and stalked out the door, slamming it behind him without looking back.
“The hell? Sam!” Dean yelled, moving quickly to throw open the door, only to watch his brother walk away. Sam didn’t even look back as he disappeared into the trees.
Dean stood there, dumbfounded, for several minutes and tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. His brain spun on nothing. Eventually, with a shake of his head, he decided to head over to Bobby’s cabin.
Bobby’s car wasn’t in the spot where they’d left it the night before.
Dean sighed, “What the hell, people?”
The curtains were drawn, so Dean couldn’t look inside the room. He knew Bobby wasn’t there, but he pounded on the door anyway. “Bobby! Open the damn door!” He only waited a few seconds before pulling out his picks to make short work of the lock.
The room was empty; an unmade bed and a letter on the table were the only signs that anyone had been there. Dean scanned the letter and then crumpled it up, throwing it angrily across the room before leaving to take his own goddamned walk.
~o0O0o~
Dean ended up circling around the motel cabins and coming back up to the rear of the place. His muscles were looser, and he much happier for the exertion. He hadn’t seen any sign of Sam on his walk, which was kind of irritating. Where the hell had the pain in the ass gone?
The rear of one of the cabins came into view, its small, enclosed porch facing the edge of the campground. There was a woman draped over the low wooden railing, looking off into the woods. She was dressed in a loose pair of sweats and a small, form-fitting tank top. Her lack of bra left pretty much nothing to the imagination. It looked cold, but he supposed the bottle of Johnny Walker Black in her hands might be keeping her warm. Dean approved.
“Hey there,” she called over to him. Her voice was husky and full of lazy invitation. Her mascara had largely worn away, leaving behind faint black smears around her eyes, her hair was a snarled mess, and the dark lipstick she’d been wearing had smeared beyond the edges of her lips. Somehow, for all of that, she was still pretty, though. “You have a good walk?”
Dean found himself drifting over to her. “I guess. It’s kinda peaceful out there.”
The girl smiled at him. “You’re welcome, if you want,” she said, shaking the bottle a little and holding it out.
“Isn’t it a little early for that?” Although, god, a hit of good whisky sounded like an excellent idea.
Her smile stretched into a smirk. “No, it’s actually really, really late.” She arched an eyebrow at him and held the bottle out a little further.
A few sips wouldn’t hurt… Dean grabbed it and took a long pull, relishing the burn. “I wouldn’t mind some company…” she added.
The thought of going back to his own empty cabin wasn’t actually all that appealing. He put his hands on the railing and hoisted himself up and over it. By silent agreement they both sat down next to each other and leaned against the wall, looking out into the woods. He took another long pull on the bottle and passed it back to her.
“Cheers,” she said, nodded at Dean and then took a long swallow before passing it back. Dean smiled and accepted. A good buzz would definitely help get him through the next few hours. They traded the bottle back and forth for a while, and Dean found his mind dwelling on the fact that he didn’t know where the hell Sam had gone off to. He was starting to get pleasantly lit, but he’d be enjoying it more with his brother right next to him.
“So… what’s your name?” the girl asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“Dean,” he said, and then added to be polite, “You?”
“Roxanne.”
They slipped back into silence again, and Dean was feeling relaxed and hazy when the girl cuddled into his side. “Cold,” she whispered, looking up at him seductively. It seemed like it had been forever since he’d had a random hook-up, and the girl was definitely offering. She took another swallow from the almost empty bottle, and, okay, maybe he’d drunk a little more than he intended.
Sam was going to kill him.
She looked up at him. Her lips were wet and glistening with drops of whiskey in the morning light. He dropped his head down to lick across them, sucking the liquid off her lips. She moaned wantonly. Her voice was high pitched and soft, and she trailed a small hand up his thigh, coming to rest on his dick.
This was all wrong. What the fuck was he doing?
She pressed her hand firmly against his soft flesh, and, keeping contact, swung a leg over his, straddling him before pulling off her tank top and tossing it to the side. Snugging their bodies together, she grabbed his head, pulled him forward and fit her mouth over his in an open, sloppy kiss.
He tensed in her arms, expecting Sam to come charging in to tear her off of him… and was vaguely disappointed when that didn’t happen. He needed his brother in ways that were anything but right, but he wasn’t sure he cared anymore… and he was gonna have to give it all up for his brother’s sake. At that thought, all the rage and loss that he’d been just barely holding back since the day before lanced through him in a flash and left a jarring, aching hole behind. He didn’t need the curse making Sam go all cave-man on him to keep him in line anymore. He didn’t want meaningless, random hook-ups. He wanted Sam.
Dean pushed her back, peeling her body away from his. “Look,” he started, “I’m sorry…”
The girl pushed back into him and bit his lower lip painfully; then, she slammed him back with incredible strength. He struggled to sit up and shove her off, but her hand on his chest kept him pinned effortlessly. “What…” he muttered, his brain sluggishly trying to process what had just happened.
She pulled back and started to laugh loudly. “Thanks for the ride, Dean-o. Sorry you didn’t want to play.” She opened her mouth widely. Black smoke came pouring out, and her hand convulsed on his dick, sending searing pain spreading through his groin.
Dean hadn’t completely recovered from the fiery agony in his crotch, and between that and the alcohol, he certainly didn’t have anything even resembling a coherent response when the back door slid open to reveal a bare-chested man in nothing but boxers. He stood there, glaring down at them with fury in his eyes. The girl stared back at Dean and, with a look of horror and confusion etching her features, scrambled back, tears pooling in her eyes. “Jeff? I…”
“Fuck you, Roxie,” the man yelled, turning and heading back into the room.
“Jeff!” Roxanne screeched before scrambling off of Dean and throwing herself through the door after her… whatever.
Dean managed to pull himself together enough to throw himself over the rail before they came back out and then took off running. The only thought making it through his whiskey-addled brain was that he didn’t want to have to explain what had just happened to a couple of furious strangers. Goddamned fucking demons. What the fuck were they playing at?
The demons hadn’t really left.
Sam was out there somewhere on his own.
Fuck.
Dean veered back toward the campground, his heart in his chest, praying that Sam had already gone back to the cabin. Because of the uneven terrain, it took him twice as long to run back as it would have on good old pavement. He was ready to lodge a fucking complaint that the whole world wasn’t paved by the time he ran up the three steps into their room.
The door was unlocked, and he burst in – and came to a startled halt in front of a very surprised looking Sam.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, alarmed.
“I…” the room was spinning, and okay, maybe drinking enough whiskey to get wasted and then going for a panicked run wasn’t the brightest idea he’d ever had… especially on an empty stomach…
Sam’s solid grip on his arms guided him over to the bed before he could get his thoughts back in order. He dropped backwards on the bed, wrapped his arms around himself and breathed heavily, desperately trying to get his stomach to settle.
“What the hell, Dean? You smell like a distillery…”
“Give me a fucking minute? Feelin’ a little sick here…”
“You need to get to the toilet?”
“No!” Dean moaned, “Damn it.”
Sam sighed and lay down behind Dean, pulling Dean up against his chest. The comforting warmth felt good, and Dean relaxed back into it. After a minute his stomach started to settle slightly, and he huffed out a sigh of relief. “I need to eat something…”
“Yeah, I’d say that’s probably true,” Sam said dryly. He shifted away and came back a moment later. “Here.”
A foil wrapped bar was placed into Dean’s hand, and he wasn’t able to keep back a groan of disgust when he opened his eyes to see, not a Snickers, but one of Sam’s god-awful protein bars.
Sam didn’t wait for his protest but growled, “Eat it anyway.”
Dean didn’t think he was up to sitting yet, and, anyway, Sam was putting his Gigantor arms back around him, so he remained lying down. He ripped open the package and forced half the bar into his mouth. It tasted abysmal, but the faster he got it in his mouth, the faster it would be gone.
“Jesus, Dean. You’re so disgusting.”
“This cardboard is disgusting,” Dean replied around the mouthful. “How can you eat this shit?”
“It’s good for you. Although it won’t be if you choke yourself on it,” Sam teased.
Dean managed to swallow the lump of paste in his mouth and crammed the other half in, continuing to chew as his stomach tried to decide what it was going to do with the sudden infusion of protein.
“So, you wanna tell me why you burst in here like you were being chased by a wendigo?”
Fuck. The alcohol was seriously throwing him off his game. He swallowed the rest of the bar and muttered, “Ran into another demon on the edge of the motel grounds.”
“What?” Sam said, alarmed.
“Yeah, possessing some hot chick.” Sam’s grip tightened slightly and Dean could feel his face heating up. When he’d agreed to share the whiskey, he hadn’t really been planning on confessing to Sam what an idiot he was being. “She was drinking and offered to share. Got me kinda plastered, and then she made a pass at me…”
Dean grabbed Sam’s arms when he moved to pull away and added quickly, “When I didn’t want to play, the demon took off. What the fuck was that even about?”
Ignoring Dean’s question, Sam asked incredulously, “So some random chick in the woods offers you booze, and you decide to just take her up on it?”
“Oh, come on. It wasn’t like that. It was…” Yeah, okay, shit, it kind of was like that. He didn’t really have a good defense for this one.
Sam sat up; Dean let him go this time and tentatively followed him up. The room was still spinning a bit, but at least his stomach was feeling a little better.
Hunched over, his elbows on his knees and his hands wrapped around the back of his head, Sam muttered, “The demons are totally fucking with us… with me. I just… I don’t understand why I’m such a target…” He moved his hands roughly through his hair then let them drop down to his lap. Sam stayed slumped forward, and Dean’s gut roiled, low and painful, with Sam’s defeat.
Dean moved over behind Sam, rested his hands on Sam’s back and pressed his lips to the back of Sam’s neck. He slid his hands around to Sam’s chest and pulled his brother close. “We, Sam. How many times I gotta tell you that? We’re in this together.”
Sam tensed under Dean’s hands, a short bark of laughter bursting from his lips before he sank down even deeper into himself. “I know, you…” Sam trailed off, taking in a deep, shuddering breath and holding it briefly before huffing out, “I don’t want to go back to being just brothers, Dean.” It came out in a rush, like he was confessing something shameful.
“I don’t either,” Dean immediately replied.
“Right.” Sam snorted derisively.
“What? I thought we were past this. Of course I don’t want to.”
Sam pulled himself out of Dean’s arms and stood up, moving over to the table to turn around and lean against it. “Sure,” he burst out angrily. “That’s why you were so fucking happy last night and this morning – because you don’t want to jump at the chance to get out of your incestuous relationship with your brother. You never wanted this, Dean. Of course you’re going to jump at the chance to take it all back.”
That’s what this morning had been about? “You know, for a smart guy, sometimes you’re a real idiot.” Dean managed to keep his voice calm and forceful, instead of rising to meet Sam’s anger. Sam huffed out a breath and looked away, but that didn’t stop Dean from continuing. His brother needed to hear this. “I didn’t know I wanted this, but I’m not happy I’m going to go back to not knowing. My life was… a hell of a lot emptier back then. But yeah, I’d sacrifice just about anything if it meant you didn’t have to go through that attack. Anything.”
“I… know.” Sam’s shoulders slumped, and he moved to the window, pulling the curtains aside slightly so he could look out. “I feel stupid for even thinking about not doing it, you know? But… God, I don’t want to lose you.”
Dean stood up and pulled his brother into his arms. “You aren’t going to lose me, Sam. We don’t even know at this point if it’s going to work... and we’re talking about making deals with demons here; the cost might wind up being way too high. Why don’t we stop borrowing trouble and wait and hear what Bobby has to say, huh?”
Sam nodded quietly against Dean’s neck. “We should probably head over there. Or did you already talk to him this morning?”
“Bobby took off. Car’s gone. He left a run-away note that said to stay here and wait for him. I want to go over to Denver and track Bobby the fuck down, but Dad’s supposed to be at Bobby’s place in five days. We should probably go there to wait for him, and, eventually, maybe even bring him in on this.” Dean grimaced. “I don’t want to, but, deals with demons… that’s big.” Dean pulled back and shrugged. “I’m not sure what we should do.” His stomach was still being pissy, so he moved to the bed and sat down again.
“I’m not sure how much Bobby remembers, but it was obviously pretty bad, what the demon made him do. I think he needs some space.”
“Yeah, well,” Dean snapped, “we need some answers.”
“I think we should stay here and wait for him, like he asked. We need to keep an eye on the town in case the demons come back, anyway.”
Dean had to bite back his anger. Don’t shoot the messenger. Sam wasn’t the one who’d run off and anyway, Sam had a point… although, at the moment, Dean wasn’t sure what they were going to do if the demons did come back. “There’re too many demons for us to deal with on our own. Bobby’d be the person to ask for help with that… Oh, wait…”
Sam ignored his sarcasm, “I still think we should wait here. Dad’s made us wait for months. He can wait a few days for us. Dad’s good, but when it comes to demons, Bobby’s better. And, like you said, maybe there’s a way for everything to be fixed. I don’t want to tell him about us unless we have no choice.”
“Fine,” Dean answered, unwilling to voice out loud how relieved he was at that statement. His stomach churned grumpily. “If I agree to that, will you go find us some real food?” Dean asked, pulling his ass more firmly into the middle of the bed and laying down.
Sam came to the bed and leaned over, laying a lazy kiss over Dean’s mouth. He slid his hand under Dean’s shirt and circled slowly down until the tips of his fingers were dipping below Dean’s pants to graze Dean’s dick, sending little shivers of pleasure tickling across sensitive skin. Dean opened obediently when Sam deepened the kiss, and Sam’s hand sank lower, dragging heat all the way down his length. His dick started to fill half-heartedly, even as his stomach did another flip. Dean turned his head, breaking the kiss. “Damn it, Sam,” Dean groaned. “I’m too drunk for this.”
“I know,” Sam replied huskily. “See what you miss out on when you accept drinks from strange women?”
“Fuck you.”
Sam pulled back and smiled mischievously, “You just said you were too drunk for that.” Dean scowled at him, and Sam’s face softened affectionately, “Get some sleep, and I’ll bring something back for you.”
“Make it quick, bitch.”
“Jerk,” Sam drawled, and then walked out the door.
~o0O0o~
Sam had been sitting in front of the computer for hours, and there were only three channels reliably coming in on the damned TV set. Between the Inspiration Ministry televangelist crap, the static filled rerun of George Lopez, and the infomercial for spray-on hair (which, okay, that one had been funny at first, but had gotten really old really quick), Dean was ready to throw the stupid TV through the window. The cheap-assed places they usually stayed at almost always at least had working cable. Dean would have moved to a different motel, if there’d been a choice. Of course, that was probably why people here hadn’t bothered to fix the cable.
Dean clicked the TV off and lay down, trying to let the erratic start and stop clicking of the keyboard lull him to sleep, but ten minutes later he was still wide awake. During yet another pause, Dean sighed loudly, hoping Sam would get the hint. He had just enough time to get hopeful that Sam had finally stopped… and the keys were clicking again. He sat up. “Hey, Sammy?”
“Yeah,” Sam answered absently.
“Why don’t you close the computer and come to bed?” Dean asked. His voice wasn’t the least bit whiney… he didn’t think.
“Just a few more minutes. I think I might have found something,” Sam muttered so softly Dean almost couldn’t hear him over the sound of typing.
“Dude, you’ve been at it for hours. Take a break. It’s really late…”
Sam, irritatingly, didn’t respond. “I’ll make it worth your while,” Dean kept his voice low and seductive. Sam only snorted. Okay, that was a low blow. Dean dragged himself out of bed and trudged slowly over to the table to get a look at what Sam was obsessing over. The text that had Sam scowling at the screen was all in Latin. It was way too fucking late to try to translate Latin.
“Fuck!” Sam swore suddenly, making Dean flinch a little. Sam slammed the lid of the laptop closed in frustration and furiously pushed it away. Fortunately, the rubber feet kept it from flying off the edge of the table.
“Someone’s getting cranky,” Dean teased gently, “I think it’s past his bedtime.” He laid his hand on Sam’s neck, thinking only to offer comfort. Sam jumped about a foot and yanked himself away, toppling the chair between them and landing on his ass.
“Jesus, Sam…” Dean swore, holding himself still instead of obeying the clamor of every cell in his body to leap forward and help.
Laughing shakily, Sam looked up. His eyes were wide and as false as his laughter.
“Shit, I’m... that was stupid. I don’t know why I…” Sam paused and looked away to shake his head and blow out a long stream of air. He took a deep breath before looking back up.
His eyes masked the fear Dean knew was there; kid had been on edge since Bobby.
“Help me up?” Sam held out his hand, and Dean took it firmly, hauling Sam to his feet. “That was…” Sam shook his head again. “Sorry. You’re right, we should go to bed.” Sam stepped around Dean into the middle of the room
Dean followed behind him, rubbing his hands over his brother’s shoulders and trying to soothe. Sam paused, head dropping forward. Dean massaged his fingers firmly into Sam’s tense muscles, and he was a little relieved when Sam started to relax under his hands.
Sam’s low sigh transformed into a quiet groan. Dean leaned in to press his lips against Sam’s back, then turned to rest his head on Sam’s shoulder. “You’ll be okay. Yesterday wasn’t that long ago. The whole thing with Bobby just left you jumpy. Hell, it left me jumpy, too.”
Sam sighed, “Yeah.” He nodded and pulled away to head to the other side of the bed. At that moment of separation, the lights flickered, once… twice… and suddenly the room was bathed in darkness.
“Shit,” Sam hissed. His breath, audible in the smothering silence of the dark, hitched in palpable fear before resuming, fast and shallow.
Dean immediately moved to where he last saw Sam and nudged into him lightly. Pulling Sam against his chest, he wrapped his arms around to hold his brother close. “I’m sure it’s just temporary. I’m sure they’ll come back on in a minute.” Dean whispered, “Just relax. I’ve got you. Not going anywhere.”
Sam nodded once, short and curt, but while the quick inhalations under his hands deepened, they sped up even more.
They stood together in the dark, and Dean said a quick prayer to the God that never listened that the power got fixed fucking soon. He snorted to himself over that bit of stupidity and wasn’t disappointed when, naturally, it didn’t work.
Sam started to shake only moments before dropping heavily to his hands and knees, Sam’s weight and Dean’s reluctance to let go dragging Dean down with him. Dean’s stomach clenched at Sam’s shaky call of, “Dean?” Sam’s voice was tight with fear, and his tremors increased violently. “Dean?” Sam’s need slammed into Dean with as much force as a solid fucking hit to the head, and the panicked tone scraped Dean raw like nails down a chalkboard. Damn it.
They needed some fucking light.
The goddamn flashlights were in the bag next to the bathroom, on the other side of the fucking bed.
Sam’s breathing changed again, rapidly becoming so fast and shallow that he was in definite danger of hyperventilating. “Dean?” It sounded like he was choking around the word. “Can’t… can’t… breathe…”
Dean reached toward the plaintive sound and unerringly found Sam’s cheek. He stroked his thumb once over the stubbled skin. His brother jerked back under his touch, a small, strangled sob escaping into the air.
Shit, he needed that flashlight, even if it meant abandoning Sam to get it. He stood up, talking as he moved and hoping that some of his words might make it through Sam’s hazed mind. “I’m right here, Sammy. Not going anywhere, just getting the flashlights…” He babbled soothingly as he tried not to trip over anything that might have been forgotten on the floor. Panic clouded his thoughts, and he didn’t really remember the journey or his frantic searching. By the time he got his thoughts tamed, he was next to his ripped open bag, a flashlight in hand.
He flipped the switch…
and light flooded back into the room. The power was back. Son of a bitch!
Sam was huddled in on himself on the floor in a near fetal position, and his hands were around his throat as he fought for air, coughing and choking around something that wasn’t even there. He was bathed in sweat, tremors still rocking through his body.
Dean threw the flashlight down and dashed across the floor to land next to his brother. “Sam?” His own voice sounded almost as thrashed as his brother’s.
He reached out a shaky hand, afraid, for a moment, to touch. Sam whimpered, and suddenly Dean’s hand was smoothing over Sam’s shoulder, frantically offering comfort.
“Dean?” Sam’s eyes slit open slightly, and his hands slowly lowered a little from his throat. “Dean,” he repeated, lost and helpless.
That was all the encouragement Dean needed to pull his brother into his arms.
“Fuck. Just … Fuck,” Sam’s voice was full of anger and wracked with dry sobs. Sam still shook, but he burrowed into Dean’s arms, seeking comfort that Dean was more than happy to provide.
“The demons are fucking laughing at us…” Sam whispered.
Dean didn’t know what to say to that and replied simply, “I’ve got you, Sammy. Not gonna let anything happen to you.”
“God, I’m…” Sam suddenly jerked out of Dean’s arms and faced away from Dean on his hands and knees, a hand flying up to cover his face. “He won’t leave me alone,” Sam sobbed. His voice rang with desperation and anguish, and it was fucking ripping Dean’s heart out of his chest. “I can’t do this anymore, Dean. I’m not fucking strong enough.”
Dean moved forward and pressed a kiss against Sam’s back. He gripped Sam’s shoulders and pulled back so his arms could wrap around Sam’s stomach. “I know, I know. I’m gonna fix this for you, Sam. I promise. I’m gonna fix it.”
“Are you sure?” Sam rumbled, “I mean… we’re talking demons here. This is so fucked up.”
“Whatever you need, Sammy. Whatever it takes,” Dean murmured.
“I don’t… I can’t… Fuck.” Sam nodded, his body slumping forward in defeat. “Okay. If Bobby finds a way… okay.”
“Then okay.” Dean squeezed Sam tightly. He wanted to lose it himself, wanted to be able to just fall apart, but Sam needed him to do this, needed him to be strong.
Whatever it took.
Chapter Five | Chapter Seven
Chapter Six
Dean woke up with Sam tangled around his body. He flexed his muscles experimentally and he had to stifle a groan. Jesus Christ, he was sore.
Early morning light was just starting to filter into the room, and the cheerful sounds of the waking forest were mildly annoying for some reason. Sam was still asleep, his face relaxed… he always looked kind of angelic when he slept. Innocent. Dean felt a swell of emotion he didn’t really want to analyze all that closely and forcefully stomped it down.
They had a deal to make with the devil today, but if it meant Sam wouldn’t have to live with what had happened to him anymore, it would be worth it. That would be worth anything.
He tightened his arms around Sam, closed his eyes and contemplated just staying there until his brother woke up, but… his eyes popped back open. They’d fallen asleep early the night before; he was tired of being in bed. Shifting carefully out of Sam’s grasp, he hobbled into the bathroom and shut the door quietly.
Last night had been awesome. Mind-blowing even. He grinned to himself as he turned the hot water in the shower on to heat up. Moving back to the mirror, he shared a pleased smirk with his reflection before inspecting the bite Sam had pressed into his chest. Sam’d broken skin; it was going to take a while to heal, but at least it didn’t need stitches or anything. He let his fingers play over the damaged skin and let his other hand travel up to cover the matching bite marks on his neck. He should be mad, but mostly, the idea of Sam’s marks on him left him with a pleasant warmth low in his belly, left him content.
Pretty soon, they wouldn’t remember any of this; pretty soon, the marks would be gone. Dean dropped his hands, and his smile vanished as his mind played over the possibilities. His heart clenched painfully; the last thing he wanted was to lose what he’d found with Sam, but… it’s not like there was a choice. If they could undo it, they would. There was no point in dwelling on it. Doing this would bring his brother some peace and delaying would only prolong the pain. Sam’s pain, and his own pain, because… yeah, no dwelling. Anyway… moving on…
He stepped into the shower, let the heat work its way into his muscles and toyed with the idea of waking Sam up to come join him. His dick perked up, a low, steady, aching need. Dean groaned. Shit, he didn’t think his ass could take another pounding.
He finished rinsing off and stepped out of the shower, throwing a towel around his waist before stepping out of the steam-filled room. Sam was out of bed and making coffee when Dean walked back in. His mood inexplicably plummeted, but he plastered a smile on his face anyway and walked into the room to start getting dressed. “Mornin’, sunshine. Why don’t you throw on some clothes and we can head over to Bobby’s. If we help him out, we can probably get this whole thing over with even faster.”
Sam stopped what he was doing. He didn’t even look up, just froze with his hand on the coffee maker. Dean finished pulling on his clothes and watched his brother out of the corner of his eye as he did. When he finally sat on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on, Sam still hadn’t moved.
“Sam?” he prompted.
His brother turned away from the coffee maker without turning it on and started jerkily throwing on his clothes. Dean leaned over and braced his arms on his legs, trying to figure out his brother’s mood. He stared at Sam with a perplexed look on his face, hoping it would get Sam to stop and talk to him, but his brother just ignored him. Finally, Dean slowly started putting his shoes on. By the time he finished putting them on, Sam had his hand on the door.
“Hold up, Sam…” Dean trailed off when Sam threw the door open, cutting him off.
“Going for a walk…” Sam muttered, and stalked out the door, slamming it behind him without looking back.
“The hell? Sam!” Dean yelled, moving quickly to throw open the door, only to watch his brother walk away. Sam didn’t even look back as he disappeared into the trees.
Dean stood there, dumbfounded, for several minutes and tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. His brain spun on nothing. Eventually, with a shake of his head, he decided to head over to Bobby’s cabin.
Bobby’s car wasn’t in the spot where they’d left it the night before.
Dean sighed, “What the hell, people?”
The curtains were drawn, so Dean couldn’t look inside the room. He knew Bobby wasn’t there, but he pounded on the door anyway. “Bobby! Open the damn door!” He only waited a few seconds before pulling out his picks to make short work of the lock.
The room was empty; an unmade bed and a letter on the table were the only signs that anyone had been there. Dean scanned the letter and then crumpled it up, throwing it angrily across the room before leaving to take his own goddamned walk.
~o0O0o~
Dean ended up circling around the motel cabins and coming back up to the rear of the place. His muscles were looser, and he much happier for the exertion. He hadn’t seen any sign of Sam on his walk, which was kind of irritating. Where the hell had the pain in the ass gone?
The rear of one of the cabins came into view, its small, enclosed porch facing the edge of the campground. There was a woman draped over the low wooden railing, looking off into the woods. She was dressed in a loose pair of sweats and a small, form-fitting tank top. Her lack of bra left pretty much nothing to the imagination. It looked cold, but he supposed the bottle of Johnny Walker Black in her hands might be keeping her warm. Dean approved.
“Hey there,” she called over to him. Her voice was husky and full of lazy invitation. Her mascara had largely worn away, leaving behind faint black smears around her eyes, her hair was a snarled mess, and the dark lipstick she’d been wearing had smeared beyond the edges of her lips. Somehow, for all of that, she was still pretty, though. “You have a good walk?”
Dean found himself drifting over to her. “I guess. It’s kinda peaceful out there.”
The girl smiled at him. “You’re welcome, if you want,” she said, shaking the bottle a little and holding it out.
“Isn’t it a little early for that?” Although, god, a hit of good whisky sounded like an excellent idea.
Her smile stretched into a smirk. “No, it’s actually really, really late.” She arched an eyebrow at him and held the bottle out a little further.
A few sips wouldn’t hurt… Dean grabbed it and took a long pull, relishing the burn. “I wouldn’t mind some company…” she added.
The thought of going back to his own empty cabin wasn’t actually all that appealing. He put his hands on the railing and hoisted himself up and over it. By silent agreement they both sat down next to each other and leaned against the wall, looking out into the woods. He took another long pull on the bottle and passed it back to her.
“Cheers,” she said, nodded at Dean and then took a long swallow before passing it back. Dean smiled and accepted. A good buzz would definitely help get him through the next few hours. They traded the bottle back and forth for a while, and Dean found his mind dwelling on the fact that he didn’t know where the hell Sam had gone off to. He was starting to get pleasantly lit, but he’d be enjoying it more with his brother right next to him.
“So… what’s your name?” the girl asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“Dean,” he said, and then added to be polite, “You?”
“Roxanne.”
They slipped back into silence again, and Dean was feeling relaxed and hazy when the girl cuddled into his side. “Cold,” she whispered, looking up at him seductively. It seemed like it had been forever since he’d had a random hook-up, and the girl was definitely offering. She took another swallow from the almost empty bottle, and, okay, maybe he’d drunk a little more than he intended.
Sam was going to kill him.
She looked up at him. Her lips were wet and glistening with drops of whiskey in the morning light. He dropped his head down to lick across them, sucking the liquid off her lips. She moaned wantonly. Her voice was high pitched and soft, and she trailed a small hand up his thigh, coming to rest on his dick.
This was all wrong. What the fuck was he doing?
She pressed her hand firmly against his soft flesh, and, keeping contact, swung a leg over his, straddling him before pulling off her tank top and tossing it to the side. Snugging their bodies together, she grabbed his head, pulled him forward and fit her mouth over his in an open, sloppy kiss.
He tensed in her arms, expecting Sam to come charging in to tear her off of him… and was vaguely disappointed when that didn’t happen. He needed his brother in ways that were anything but right, but he wasn’t sure he cared anymore… and he was gonna have to give it all up for his brother’s sake. At that thought, all the rage and loss that he’d been just barely holding back since the day before lanced through him in a flash and left a jarring, aching hole behind. He didn’t need the curse making Sam go all cave-man on him to keep him in line anymore. He didn’t want meaningless, random hook-ups. He wanted Sam.
Dean pushed her back, peeling her body away from his. “Look,” he started, “I’m sorry…”
The girl pushed back into him and bit his lower lip painfully; then, she slammed him back with incredible strength. He struggled to sit up and shove her off, but her hand on his chest kept him pinned effortlessly. “What…” he muttered, his brain sluggishly trying to process what had just happened.
She pulled back and started to laugh loudly. “Thanks for the ride, Dean-o. Sorry you didn’t want to play.” She opened her mouth widely. Black smoke came pouring out, and her hand convulsed on his dick, sending searing pain spreading through his groin.
Dean hadn’t completely recovered from the fiery agony in his crotch, and between that and the alcohol, he certainly didn’t have anything even resembling a coherent response when the back door slid open to reveal a bare-chested man in nothing but boxers. He stood there, glaring down at them with fury in his eyes. The girl stared back at Dean and, with a look of horror and confusion etching her features, scrambled back, tears pooling in her eyes. “Jeff? I…”
“Fuck you, Roxie,” the man yelled, turning and heading back into the room.
“Jeff!” Roxanne screeched before scrambling off of Dean and throwing herself through the door after her… whatever.
Dean managed to pull himself together enough to throw himself over the rail before they came back out and then took off running. The only thought making it through his whiskey-addled brain was that he didn’t want to have to explain what had just happened to a couple of furious strangers. Goddamned fucking demons. What the fuck were they playing at?
The demons hadn’t really left.
Sam was out there somewhere on his own.
Fuck.
Dean veered back toward the campground, his heart in his chest, praying that Sam had already gone back to the cabin. Because of the uneven terrain, it took him twice as long to run back as it would have on good old pavement. He was ready to lodge a fucking complaint that the whole world wasn’t paved by the time he ran up the three steps into their room.
The door was unlocked, and he burst in – and came to a startled halt in front of a very surprised looking Sam.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, alarmed.
“I…” the room was spinning, and okay, maybe drinking enough whiskey to get wasted and then going for a panicked run wasn’t the brightest idea he’d ever had… especially on an empty stomach…
Sam’s solid grip on his arms guided him over to the bed before he could get his thoughts back in order. He dropped backwards on the bed, wrapped his arms around himself and breathed heavily, desperately trying to get his stomach to settle.
“What the hell, Dean? You smell like a distillery…”
“Give me a fucking minute? Feelin’ a little sick here…”
“You need to get to the toilet?”
“No!” Dean moaned, “Damn it.”
Sam sighed and lay down behind Dean, pulling Dean up against his chest. The comforting warmth felt good, and Dean relaxed back into it. After a minute his stomach started to settle slightly, and he huffed out a sigh of relief. “I need to eat something…”
“Yeah, I’d say that’s probably true,” Sam said dryly. He shifted away and came back a moment later. “Here.”
A foil wrapped bar was placed into Dean’s hand, and he wasn’t able to keep back a groan of disgust when he opened his eyes to see, not a Snickers, but one of Sam’s god-awful protein bars.
Sam didn’t wait for his protest but growled, “Eat it anyway.”
Dean didn’t think he was up to sitting yet, and, anyway, Sam was putting his Gigantor arms back around him, so he remained lying down. He ripped open the package and forced half the bar into his mouth. It tasted abysmal, but the faster he got it in his mouth, the faster it would be gone.
“Jesus, Dean. You’re so disgusting.”
“This cardboard is disgusting,” Dean replied around the mouthful. “How can you eat this shit?”
“It’s good for you. Although it won’t be if you choke yourself on it,” Sam teased.
Dean managed to swallow the lump of paste in his mouth and crammed the other half in, continuing to chew as his stomach tried to decide what it was going to do with the sudden infusion of protein.
“So, you wanna tell me why you burst in here like you were being chased by a wendigo?”
Fuck. The alcohol was seriously throwing him off his game. He swallowed the rest of the bar and muttered, “Ran into another demon on the edge of the motel grounds.”
“What?” Sam said, alarmed.
“Yeah, possessing some hot chick.” Sam’s grip tightened slightly and Dean could feel his face heating up. When he’d agreed to share the whiskey, he hadn’t really been planning on confessing to Sam what an idiot he was being. “She was drinking and offered to share. Got me kinda plastered, and then she made a pass at me…”
Dean grabbed Sam’s arms when he moved to pull away and added quickly, “When I didn’t want to play, the demon took off. What the fuck was that even about?”
Ignoring Dean’s question, Sam asked incredulously, “So some random chick in the woods offers you booze, and you decide to just take her up on it?”
“Oh, come on. It wasn’t like that. It was…” Yeah, okay, shit, it kind of was like that. He didn’t really have a good defense for this one.
Sam sat up; Dean let him go this time and tentatively followed him up. The room was still spinning a bit, but at least his stomach was feeling a little better.
Hunched over, his elbows on his knees and his hands wrapped around the back of his head, Sam muttered, “The demons are totally fucking with us… with me. I just… I don’t understand why I’m such a target…” He moved his hands roughly through his hair then let them drop down to his lap. Sam stayed slumped forward, and Dean’s gut roiled, low and painful, with Sam’s defeat.
Dean moved over behind Sam, rested his hands on Sam’s back and pressed his lips to the back of Sam’s neck. He slid his hands around to Sam’s chest and pulled his brother close. “We, Sam. How many times I gotta tell you that? We’re in this together.”
Sam tensed under Dean’s hands, a short bark of laughter bursting from his lips before he sank down even deeper into himself. “I know, you…” Sam trailed off, taking in a deep, shuddering breath and holding it briefly before huffing out, “I don’t want to go back to being just brothers, Dean.” It came out in a rush, like he was confessing something shameful.
“I don’t either,” Dean immediately replied.
“Right.” Sam snorted derisively.
“What? I thought we were past this. Of course I don’t want to.”
Sam pulled himself out of Dean’s arms and stood up, moving over to the table to turn around and lean against it. “Sure,” he burst out angrily. “That’s why you were so fucking happy last night and this morning – because you don’t want to jump at the chance to get out of your incestuous relationship with your brother. You never wanted this, Dean. Of course you’re going to jump at the chance to take it all back.”
That’s what this morning had been about? “You know, for a smart guy, sometimes you’re a real idiot.” Dean managed to keep his voice calm and forceful, instead of rising to meet Sam’s anger. Sam huffed out a breath and looked away, but that didn’t stop Dean from continuing. His brother needed to hear this. “I didn’t know I wanted this, but I’m not happy I’m going to go back to not knowing. My life was… a hell of a lot emptier back then. But yeah, I’d sacrifice just about anything if it meant you didn’t have to go through that attack. Anything.”
“I… know.” Sam’s shoulders slumped, and he moved to the window, pulling the curtains aside slightly so he could look out. “I feel stupid for even thinking about not doing it, you know? But… God, I don’t want to lose you.”
Dean stood up and pulled his brother into his arms. “You aren’t going to lose me, Sam. We don’t even know at this point if it’s going to work... and we’re talking about making deals with demons here; the cost might wind up being way too high. Why don’t we stop borrowing trouble and wait and hear what Bobby has to say, huh?”
Sam nodded quietly against Dean’s neck. “We should probably head over there. Or did you already talk to him this morning?”
“Bobby took off. Car’s gone. He left a run-away note that said to stay here and wait for him. I want to go over to Denver and track Bobby the fuck down, but Dad’s supposed to be at Bobby’s place in five days. We should probably go there to wait for him, and, eventually, maybe even bring him in on this.” Dean grimaced. “I don’t want to, but, deals with demons… that’s big.” Dean pulled back and shrugged. “I’m not sure what we should do.” His stomach was still being pissy, so he moved to the bed and sat down again.
“I’m not sure how much Bobby remembers, but it was obviously pretty bad, what the demon made him do. I think he needs some space.”
“Yeah, well,” Dean snapped, “we need some answers.”
“I think we should stay here and wait for him, like he asked. We need to keep an eye on the town in case the demons come back, anyway.”
Dean had to bite back his anger. Don’t shoot the messenger. Sam wasn’t the one who’d run off and anyway, Sam had a point… although, at the moment, Dean wasn’t sure what they were going to do if the demons did come back. “There’re too many demons for us to deal with on our own. Bobby’d be the person to ask for help with that… Oh, wait…”
Sam ignored his sarcasm, “I still think we should wait here. Dad’s made us wait for months. He can wait a few days for us. Dad’s good, but when it comes to demons, Bobby’s better. And, like you said, maybe there’s a way for everything to be fixed. I don’t want to tell him about us unless we have no choice.”
“Fine,” Dean answered, unwilling to voice out loud how relieved he was at that statement. His stomach churned grumpily. “If I agree to that, will you go find us some real food?” Dean asked, pulling his ass more firmly into the middle of the bed and laying down.
Sam came to the bed and leaned over, laying a lazy kiss over Dean’s mouth. He slid his hand under Dean’s shirt and circled slowly down until the tips of his fingers were dipping below Dean’s pants to graze Dean’s dick, sending little shivers of pleasure tickling across sensitive skin. Dean opened obediently when Sam deepened the kiss, and Sam’s hand sank lower, dragging heat all the way down his length. His dick started to fill half-heartedly, even as his stomach did another flip. Dean turned his head, breaking the kiss. “Damn it, Sam,” Dean groaned. “I’m too drunk for this.”
“I know,” Sam replied huskily. “See what you miss out on when you accept drinks from strange women?”
“Fuck you.”
Sam pulled back and smiled mischievously, “You just said you were too drunk for that.” Dean scowled at him, and Sam’s face softened affectionately, “Get some sleep, and I’ll bring something back for you.”
“Make it quick, bitch.”
“Jerk,” Sam drawled, and then walked out the door.
~o0O0o~
Sam had been sitting in front of the computer for hours, and there were only three channels reliably coming in on the damned TV set. Between the Inspiration Ministry televangelist crap, the static filled rerun of George Lopez, and the infomercial for spray-on hair (which, okay, that one had been funny at first, but had gotten really old really quick), Dean was ready to throw the stupid TV through the window. The cheap-assed places they usually stayed at almost always at least had working cable. Dean would have moved to a different motel, if there’d been a choice. Of course, that was probably why people here hadn’t bothered to fix the cable.
Dean clicked the TV off and lay down, trying to let the erratic start and stop clicking of the keyboard lull him to sleep, but ten minutes later he was still wide awake. During yet another pause, Dean sighed loudly, hoping Sam would get the hint. He had just enough time to get hopeful that Sam had finally stopped… and the keys were clicking again. He sat up. “Hey, Sammy?”
“Yeah,” Sam answered absently.
“Why don’t you close the computer and come to bed?” Dean asked. His voice wasn’t the least bit whiney… he didn’t think.
“Just a few more minutes. I think I might have found something,” Sam muttered so softly Dean almost couldn’t hear him over the sound of typing.
“Dude, you’ve been at it for hours. Take a break. It’s really late…”
Sam, irritatingly, didn’t respond. “I’ll make it worth your while,” Dean kept his voice low and seductive. Sam only snorted. Okay, that was a low blow. Dean dragged himself out of bed and trudged slowly over to the table to get a look at what Sam was obsessing over. The text that had Sam scowling at the screen was all in Latin. It was way too fucking late to try to translate Latin.
“Fuck!” Sam swore suddenly, making Dean flinch a little. Sam slammed the lid of the laptop closed in frustration and furiously pushed it away. Fortunately, the rubber feet kept it from flying off the edge of the table.
“Someone’s getting cranky,” Dean teased gently, “I think it’s past his bedtime.” He laid his hand on Sam’s neck, thinking only to offer comfort. Sam jumped about a foot and yanked himself away, toppling the chair between them and landing on his ass.
“Jesus, Sam…” Dean swore, holding himself still instead of obeying the clamor of every cell in his body to leap forward and help.
Laughing shakily, Sam looked up. His eyes were wide and as false as his laughter.
“Shit, I’m... that was stupid. I don’t know why I…” Sam paused and looked away to shake his head and blow out a long stream of air. He took a deep breath before looking back up.
His eyes masked the fear Dean knew was there; kid had been on edge since Bobby.
“Help me up?” Sam held out his hand, and Dean took it firmly, hauling Sam to his feet. “That was…” Sam shook his head again. “Sorry. You’re right, we should go to bed.” Sam stepped around Dean into the middle of the room
Dean followed behind him, rubbing his hands over his brother’s shoulders and trying to soothe. Sam paused, head dropping forward. Dean massaged his fingers firmly into Sam’s tense muscles, and he was a little relieved when Sam started to relax under his hands.
Sam’s low sigh transformed into a quiet groan. Dean leaned in to press his lips against Sam’s back, then turned to rest his head on Sam’s shoulder. “You’ll be okay. Yesterday wasn’t that long ago. The whole thing with Bobby just left you jumpy. Hell, it left me jumpy, too.”
Sam sighed, “Yeah.” He nodded and pulled away to head to the other side of the bed. At that moment of separation, the lights flickered, once… twice… and suddenly the room was bathed in darkness.
“Shit,” Sam hissed. His breath, audible in the smothering silence of the dark, hitched in palpable fear before resuming, fast and shallow.
Dean immediately moved to where he last saw Sam and nudged into him lightly. Pulling Sam against his chest, he wrapped his arms around to hold his brother close. “I’m sure it’s just temporary. I’m sure they’ll come back on in a minute.” Dean whispered, “Just relax. I’ve got you. Not going anywhere.”
Sam nodded once, short and curt, but while the quick inhalations under his hands deepened, they sped up even more.
They stood together in the dark, and Dean said a quick prayer to the God that never listened that the power got fixed fucking soon. He snorted to himself over that bit of stupidity and wasn’t disappointed when, naturally, it didn’t work.
Sam started to shake only moments before dropping heavily to his hands and knees, Sam’s weight and Dean’s reluctance to let go dragging Dean down with him. Dean’s stomach clenched at Sam’s shaky call of, “Dean?” Sam’s voice was tight with fear, and his tremors increased violently. “Dean?” Sam’s need slammed into Dean with as much force as a solid fucking hit to the head, and the panicked tone scraped Dean raw like nails down a chalkboard. Damn it.
They needed some fucking light.
The goddamn flashlights were in the bag next to the bathroom, on the other side of the fucking bed.
Sam’s breathing changed again, rapidly becoming so fast and shallow that he was in definite danger of hyperventilating. “Dean?” It sounded like he was choking around the word. “Can’t… can’t… breathe…”
Dean reached toward the plaintive sound and unerringly found Sam’s cheek. He stroked his thumb once over the stubbled skin. His brother jerked back under his touch, a small, strangled sob escaping into the air.
Shit, he needed that flashlight, even if it meant abandoning Sam to get it. He stood up, talking as he moved and hoping that some of his words might make it through Sam’s hazed mind. “I’m right here, Sammy. Not going anywhere, just getting the flashlights…” He babbled soothingly as he tried not to trip over anything that might have been forgotten on the floor. Panic clouded his thoughts, and he didn’t really remember the journey or his frantic searching. By the time he got his thoughts tamed, he was next to his ripped open bag, a flashlight in hand.
He flipped the switch…
and light flooded back into the room. The power was back. Son of a bitch!
Sam was huddled in on himself on the floor in a near fetal position, and his hands were around his throat as he fought for air, coughing and choking around something that wasn’t even there. He was bathed in sweat, tremors still rocking through his body.
Dean threw the flashlight down and dashed across the floor to land next to his brother. “Sam?” His own voice sounded almost as thrashed as his brother’s.
He reached out a shaky hand, afraid, for a moment, to touch. Sam whimpered, and suddenly Dean’s hand was smoothing over Sam’s shoulder, frantically offering comfort.
“Dean?” Sam’s eyes slit open slightly, and his hands slowly lowered a little from his throat. “Dean,” he repeated, lost and helpless.
That was all the encouragement Dean needed to pull his brother into his arms.
“Fuck. Just … Fuck,” Sam’s voice was full of anger and wracked with dry sobs. Sam still shook, but he burrowed into Dean’s arms, seeking comfort that Dean was more than happy to provide.
“The demons are fucking laughing at us…” Sam whispered.
Dean didn’t know what to say to that and replied simply, “I’ve got you, Sammy. Not gonna let anything happen to you.”
“God, I’m…” Sam suddenly jerked out of Dean’s arms and faced away from Dean on his hands and knees, a hand flying up to cover his face. “He won’t leave me alone,” Sam sobbed. His voice rang with desperation and anguish, and it was fucking ripping Dean’s heart out of his chest. “I can’t do this anymore, Dean. I’m not fucking strong enough.”
Dean moved forward and pressed a kiss against Sam’s back. He gripped Sam’s shoulders and pulled back so his arms could wrap around Sam’s stomach. “I know, I know. I’m gonna fix this for you, Sam. I promise. I’m gonna fix it.”
“Are you sure?” Sam rumbled, “I mean… we’re talking demons here. This is so fucked up.”
“Whatever you need, Sammy. Whatever it takes,” Dean murmured.
“I don’t… I can’t… Fuck.” Sam nodded, his body slumping forward in defeat. “Okay. If Bobby finds a way… okay.”
“Then okay.” Dean squeezed Sam tightly. He wanted to lose it himself, wanted to be able to just fall apart, but Sam needed him to do this, needed him to be strong.
Whatever it took.
Chapter Five | Chapter Seven
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Yeah, I'm with Sam on this one. WTF, Dean? Not even a casual Christo, just to be sure?
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Well, that there was the longest sentence in history and happily, it's on your comment page. (blush. Sorry) I get excited.
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"Whatever it took."
Owww I really love your story
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