06: Monumental Family Values

Fandom: Supernatural

Category/Rated: NC17

Year/Length: 2007/~22,394 words

Pairing: Sam and Dean

Disclaimer: No profit was made off this. The characters belong the originators of Supernatural. Was all in pure fun.

Warning: Wincest

Summary: "You get any further with the Colt?" Sam had followed the other two inside the house, feeling somehow more at home here than he had ever done in Lawrence. "We're going to need all the help we can get now all those demons are out and about." He shook his head as he took a seat and accepted the beer that Bobby handed him. "Cheers. It's weird but we really haven't seen hide nor hair of any demons yet. It makes me feel like I'm missing something." "Well then, you two haven't been watching the news," Bobby walked over to a table, pushing papers off it until he found one from a few days earlier. He returned and tossed it to Sam. "Strange clouds started forming over five major cities," he said, turning away to go to an old wooden box. "There have been a shitload of reported deaths out there too. Unexplainable deaths. The police are working overtime all across the States."

Series: Supernatural Virtual Slash Season 3

Beta: ailurophile6 for which much thanks.

Dean had already had his bitching out from Ellen and Bobby - especially Bobby - over his deal making with the crossroads demon. Bobby still wanted to throttle him for what he'd done, but, in a way, it seemed like Bobby understood. So when Dean pulled the Impala into the driveway of Bobby's house, he felt almost as if he was truly coming home. The older man was out on the porch before the car's engine was even shut off, waiting for the brothers to climb out and greet him.

"Hey, Bobby!" Dean climbed out and stood beside Sam.

"Hey boys, what brings you back here?" Bobby asked, crossing his arms.

"Can't come by to say hi, how you doing..."

"Where's the whiskey? Hey, Sam," Bobby nodded to them.

"Bobby, my man!" Sam enveloped the older man in a hug and then stepped back. "It's really good to see you. I wanted to talk to you about the Colt. It'd be really good to find a way to get the thing back in working order. That yellow-eyed bastard wasn't the only demon around, by any means, and we need all the help we can get." He paused for a beat, then grinned. "Oh, and also, where's the whiskey?"

"Now I expected that from him." Bobby crooked a thumb at Dean, grinning. "C'mon in, you two," He slapped Dean on the back and turned back to the house.

Dean gave a helpless shrug. "C'mon Bobby, really, you know me better than that." He followed the older hunter inside. "Say, you got anything to eat?"

"He hasn't stopped eating?" Bobby asked Sam, his eyebrows raising so high that they disappeared under his hat. "Sorry, no cheese burgers. We got nothing but healthy food around here."

Dean chuckled as he stepped around a stack of books.

"You get any further with the Colt?" Sam had followed the other two inside the house, feeling somehow more at home here than he had ever done in Lawrence. "We're going to need all the help we can get now all those demons are out and about." He shook his head as he took a seat and accepted the beer that Bobby handed him. "Cheers. It's weird but we really haven't seen hide nor hair of any demons yet. It makes me feel like I'm missing something."

"Well then, you two haven't been watching the news," Bobby walked over to a table, pushing papers off it until he found one from a few days earlier. He returned and tossed it to Sam. "Strange clouds started forming over five major cities," he said, turning away to go to an old wooden box. "There have been a shitload of reported deaths out there too. Unexplainable deaths. The police are working overtime all across the States."

"You would think those bastards would have started as soon as they got out of the gate. Why have they waited til now?" Dean took a drink of his beer and looked about, apparently distracted by something in his surroundings. "Does this place seem cleaner to you?" he asked, looking at Sam. "Like a woman's touch has been added?"

"Shut up," Bobby slapped the box into Dean's chest.

Chuckling, Dean opened it and saw the Colt. "Got any bullets?"

"Got any bullets?" Bobby mimicked as he walked away, grumbling as Dean laughed.

"Gotta have the bullets, don't we?" Sam followed Bobby. "Dude, show me how to make them?" He gave Bobby his best ever little lost puppy look. "There are about three hundred demons out there, and only the three of us to take 'em all on. We're gonna need a hell of a lot of bullets before we're done."

He looked over his shoulder to see if Dean was within earshot and, deciding that he wasn't, murmured, "Gonna kill those hell-hounds one at a time, 'til hell runs out of 'em."

"I'll show you, but it takes a lot of messing about." Bobby pulled out several cases of bullets and handed them over to Sam. "But listen, Sam, you can't just use the Colt on whatever you meet. You have to be careful what you use it on. And those hell-hounds..." He shook his head.

Dean was lounging on one of the chairs in the study, looking as if he belonged there. "So, Bobby," he shouted. "Ellen whipping you into shape as well as this place?" He lifted his beer bottle to his lips.

"What makes you think I'd let a mere woman whip anything into shape, Dean?" Bobby's voice was a pleased rumble from somewhere deep in his chest. "Ellen's been staying here, for sure, but damned if I let her change the way I do things."

"He's a stubborn old bastard is what he is." Ellen was suddenly standing in the doorway, grinning as she took in the Winchester brothers. "Hello, boys. Good to see you. How are things going?"

Dean jerked his head around when he heard Ellen's voice, and he smiled, seeing she hadn't changed save for maybe a hair trim. She still wore those tight jeans and her tank top, and he was pleased to see that she wore no shirt over top of it. He got up and went over to hug her. "Hey, Ellen," he whispered. "You know I could have told you that about Bobby, though he's not half as stubborn as our dad was." Pulling back, he gave her his most winning smile. "How have you been?"

"Lonesome," was all she said as she hugged him back and then leaned back against the door-frame. "I'm still coming to terms with the fact that it's all gone... the roadhouse, Ash, everything. Bobby's been a good friend, but he can't bring them back for me. Wish he could."

"I found out, Ellen. The person that was feeding Gordon information about me...? That was Jo." Sam stepped forward to be hugged in his turn. "Haven't seen anything much of her for a while, but when I finally catch up with her, I'm gonna pound her ass for her. She nearly got me and this big idiot here killed."

Dean looked surprised. "What makes you think it was Jo? How do you know?" He frowned, not wanting it to be Jo, knowing that it would totally change Ellen's relationship with her daughter. He wasn't sure that he wanted to see the results of that.

"Found some papers," murmured Sam, patting Ellen's back as he let her go. "I'll show you later. Right now I wouldn't say no to a bite to eat, if you've got anything edible around?" He had set down the boxes of bullets, and now he was moving towards the kitchen, following the scent of newly baked bread. "Doesn't smell like anything that Bobby ever cooked. What were you making?"

"There's bread, and a couple of pies I put together. Guess I must be psychic or something, because I don't bake often." Ellen grinned. "Must've foreseen you boys coming in, bringing your appetites with you."

Dean eyes had lit up at the word pie. "Pie?" He turned and stampeded toward the kitchen, pushing Sam aside before he could even reach the door. Skidding into Bobby's kitchen, he hovered over the pies, inhaling the fragrance.

Bobby had backed up out of Dean's path, grinning. "Boy likes his pie." He followed the Winchesters into the room, motioning Ellen ahead of him. "Sit down, eat... Well I see Dean already is. Can you save some for the rest of us?"

Dean had found a fork and, without slicing the pie, was digging in. "Huh?"

"Have some pie," smirked Sam, twitching the dish out of his brother's hands. Fetching a knife, he cut a slice, put it on a plate and pushed it back to his brother, then took a somewhat smaller slice for himself. Turning back to smirk at Ellen, he shrugged his shoulders. "You'll have to forgive him; I think he's got a mental age of about six."

"You think it's that high?" asked Ellen, snagging a piece for Bobby and then one for herself. "He's cute. Just watch him go. You could bribe him to do anything if you offered enough pie."

"Not cute, adorable," Dean pointed his fork at her as he corrected her and then went back to eating. Bobby sat down next to Dean who peered at him over his plate.

"Don't get any ideas," Bobby warned him.

"Ellen, god, this pie is like... heaven. You think we can have steak for dinner?" Dean asked, shoveling another fork full of pie in his mouth.

"What does this place look like? A steak house?" Bobby looked at the boys. "You go buy the meat, I'll grill it up, but you two have to clean up first."

"Deal," Dean answered, not waiting for his brother.

Laughing, Sam rose to his feet, licking his lips. "I guess I could go out and rustle up a cow, or something. What do you think?" He turned to Dean. "Keys?" he asked. "Bobby? Gimme a list, and I'll go find some meat."

"You going shopping, man?" Bobby raised his eyebrows. "In that case, I'll go with you, make sure that you don't buy anything I might regret later."

""You'd better take the other pie with you," said Ellen, grinning. "Or there won't be any of it left by the time you get back here with the goodies."

Dean gave Ellen a look as if asking, 'what makes you say that?' He dug in his pockets and tossed Sam the keys, then settled back to eating as the pair left. Finally he pushed his plate away and looked at Ellen with one eyebrow raised. "How you hanging in there?" he murmured, looking her over. "You know what Sam said about Jo... I don't believe it. She wouldn't do that. She might have been pissed at us, but Jo..." He shook his head.

"You know that I wish she hadn't taken the course she has, Dean, but I know she's a good girl deep down, and she has a bit of a crush on you. I wish that you'd watch out for her for me." Ellen hung her head, blinking back tears as she thought of her pretty daughter. "You aren't like your father, are you? Stay a little human, Dean. There's nothing wrong with staying human. Your dad gave too much up, and he lost his way. Don't be like him, okay?"

Dean got up and moved around to her. "You won't have to worry about that; not gonna be around too much longer." He laid his hand on her arm, "But Ellen, you need to talk to Jo. You... don't do what our father did to us. Don't push her away." Dean leaned against the counter. "And I'm pretty sure I'm stayin' human. Wanna touch and find out?" he asked her, teasing.

Putting her hand over his, Ellen smiled as she moved in a little closer to him, feeling small against his frame as she looked up at him. "Sam and Bobby will find a way to get you out of your bargain, Dean. I know that Sam won't rest until he finds a way to save you." She laid her cheek against his bicep and sighed. "Until then, I guess I can feed you pie. That can be my contribution to the hunt."

Dean looked down at her as he slid his arm around her, letting his hand rest at the small of her back. "Pie is always good. And Ellen, you're a damn fine hunter." He drew a breath. "I'm okay with it all, really," he said finally, giving a bit of a snort. "You know, never thought I would say this, but this place feels more like home than home ever did. It's good to come home one last time."

"Jesus, Dean, don't say that." Ellen melted against him, wondering how she could give him comfort. "You're just a kid; you've hardly had a chance to live, and what will happen to Sam, once you're gone? That boy needs you. Hell, I need you too. You sneak your way into peoples' hearts, Dean Winchester."

Dean gave a little smirk, "Well, yeah. I have that kind of effect on people. Especially women." He reached up, pushing her hair back behind her ear and turned them around so her back was pressed against the counter. "So, tell me, how many ways do you need me? Huh?" He let his eyes follow the line of her throat down to the swell of her breast.

Lowering her eyes, she flushed. "We need every hunter we can get," she growled, whiskey voice warning him to back off. "You, Sam, Bobby, me, and god help me, even Jo, much as I don't want to admit it. There were far too many of them peeling out of that gate the other night." There was a teasing smile on her face as she peeped up at him from under her lashes. "Why? What did you think I meant?"

Dean gave her his trademark smirk as he pulled back and turned to sit back down at the table. Sam and Bobby would be back soon, and he was a hunter after all. "I think we both know." He reached for his beer and took a drink. "But you're right, Ellen. You guys need all the help you can get. I'm sure the other hunters don't appreciate what we did, but they weren't there. At least we killed that yellow-eyed bastard. His army doesn't have a leader, and if we're lucky they'll be jockeying for control, fighting each other, which is good for us. And, if I can make a suggestion, you'd better contact Jo soon and see if she'll come back. Things are different now, and nothing is stronger than family."

"You're right there," nodded Ellen. "She won't come for me though. I've already tried." She studied him, speculatively. "I don't suppose you would call her home for me, Dean? She'd come for you; I know she would."

For a few moments, it looked as if she wanted to say something else, but then she turned to the fridge and started to get out potatoes and onions, calling over her shoulder, "If Sam's coming back with steak, we'd better get the fixings ready. Reach into that drawer there and find me a vegetable knife, Dean, if you would."

Dean got up and went to pull open the drawer and find the requested knife, his mind going back to the times when he was little, and he'd watched his mom cook dinner. The memory was powerful. He'd loved being with her, smelling all the good food as she'd worked. "So what are you making?" Dean asked, leaning against the counter to watch.

"Gonna fry up some onions and potatoes, maybe cook up some greens too, because you need your vitamins, or else you'll get cold-cocked by some lucky demon some day.” She gave him another of her appraising looks. "You need feeding right, Dean Winchester. You're strong, but you're pale, and you don't have the shine you used to have back when I first made your acquaintance. Just because you're battling for your life doesn't mean you shouldn't take good care of yourself."

Dean smiled at her. "I'm impressed. You've noticed. But, see, the lack of shine comes from trading your soul. As for the rest, I've been eating. And technically I'm not battling for my life, although I'll battle for yours, for Bobby's and definitely for Sam's." He paused for a moment, trying to think of a way to divert Ellen from her probing. "But hey," he said, finally. "You wanna feed me? I won't turn it down."

"So I've noticed," smirked Ellen, patting his stomach as she passed. "Gotta watch the intake though. Don't want all that fine, fine muscle running to seed. It would be like defacing a work of art." She began to peel the potatoes, deftly wielding the knife as she spoke. "You and your brother are both way too pretty to watch go to fat."

"Work of art?" Dean quirked an eyebrow at her then chuckled. "Well, hunting and other activities usually take care of burning off the calories." He reached for his beer and chugged it. "Sammy and Bobby should be back soon." He leaned back in his chair, rocking on two legs, one foot up on the table.

"Feet off the table, please," she growled, turning around to grab a wooden spoon and swat him. "The only joints I want to see on there are the ones for carving."

She was about to smack Dean with the spoon when the screen door was pushed open, and Sam came into the kitchen, followed by Bobby. Both men were carrying sacks of groceries, and Sam dumped his on the table. "Got steaks and barbecue sauce too. Looks like dinner's gonna be good," he said.

Dean had ignored Ellen until he saw the spoon, then he quickly dropped down. No way he was going to get hit by one of those again. Hearing the door, he popped up on his feet as if he'd been electrocuted and reached to take the bags and set them on the table. "Awesome," he murmured, digging in and unpacking them. He pulled the steaks out and admired them. "So who is manning the grill?"

"You volunteerin'?" asked Bobby, stowing beer in the fridge and watching as Dean unpacked more groceries - sausage, eggs and bread. "Barbecue's all ready out back. Just set her going when the rest of the food's organized, and have at her."

Snagging a beer, he handed a second to Sam and went to pass yet another to Ellen. "Got mushrooms too, if you like that sort of thing," he said. "Sam says they go good with steak. I believe him."

Dean began slapping the steaks out to get them ready. He set them on a tray, grumbling under his breath all the while that he and Sam were guests. Seasoning the steaks, he covered them up and prepared to go into exile in the back yard. "Get the grill ready," he grumbled as he headed out back with the tray full of steaks. Once he was outside, waiting for the newly lit barbecue to come up to temperature so he could put the steaks on, he looked back to see the three others laughing about something through the kitchen window. Now, he thought, all Sam needed was a girl - maybe that Ashley - and things would be good for his brother when he was gone. Leaving Sam in the hands of Bobby and Ellen was good, Dean was sure of it. They'd take care of Sammy and stop him grieving.

"I'm worried about him," said Sam, watching him through the window as he pottered around, getting the grill ready. "He's given up. He's not even trying to look for a way out, and I don't know what to do. I've got a possible solution, but he'll stop me if he finds out what I'm doing, and I can't let him. I can't lose him. I just can't. What would I do without him?"

"I know what you mean." Ellen nodded. "It's like he wants to go. He's already made his mind up. You're going to have to keep him alive somehow, Sam, because from the looks of things he won't even worry if he goes early."

Dean walked back into the kitchen, looking for oil to coat the meat and stop it from sticking. He stopped when he saw all the grim faces. "Dudes, I'm not that bad a cook. I can grill up steaks without poisoning anyone." He went to get the oil, his eyes darting between the three of them. "You guys look like you all took a suck off the same lemon. Cut it out. Creeping me out." He moved past them again, heading back to his task. "And stop talking about me!"

"Told 'em you're looking fatter around the butt," grinned Ellen, winking at Sam. "We were discussing how to get you to work off the excess pudge. What do you say, Dean? Bobby here and Rumsfeld are just itching to hunt you down, but Bobby says he'll give you a five minute start."

"You got it, Dean. Five minutes." Bobby was biting back a laugh. "Because that's just the kind of sporting feller I am. Rummy don't bite too hard, but he sure does slobber."

Dean tried to look back at his butt, turning around in a circle and then scorching Ellen with a look of vast disdain. Sauntering back to the grill, he lifted the cover and dumped the steaks on. "I know how to work it off," he commented to himself, glancing up. "That itch is fleas, Bobby. They have collars for that," He yelled.

Sam had laughed as he watched his brother attempting to check out his own butt, and fallen back, not wanting Dean to think that he was a party to the teasing his brother was putting up with. He had been admiring his brother's sleek form, and wished he could say something without sounding like a girl. Now he took a deep breath. "Dean is fit enough," he said. "Cut him some slack."

"Yeah, cut me some slack, Bobby." Dean had returned, and now slapped the older man's back. "You said you wanted your steak raw right?"

"Yup. Just warm it up and slap it on a plate," smirked Bobby. I like 'em juicy."

"I got your juicy," Dean muttered as he pulled out another plate to put the cooked steaks on. "Thank you, Sammy." He stuck his tongue out at Ellen as he headed back to the grill to turn the steaks over. They were soon ready and sizzling on the plate. Bringing them back in with a flourish, he set them down to let them rest. The other sides were just about ready, and he rubbed his hands together as he watched Ellen loading up a serving dish with potatoes and another with the vegetables.

"Grubs up. Let's eat." Dean sat down, dishing up a steak for his brother and passing it to him. "Here you go, Sammy."

Sam nodded his thanks and put a steak on a plate for Ellen, passing it to her with a quick roll of his eyes in Dean's direction. "Awesome," he murmured, helping himself to vegetables and putting the onions as far away from Dean as he could, with a grin.

The meal was delicious, and for once Sam ate as much as Dean, cleaning his plate and settling back with a sigh to pat his belly. "Two steaks in the same week. We're coming up in the world," he said, stretching. "That was really good. Give the chef my compliments."

"Glad you liked it, Sammy boy, cos me an' you are on washing up detail." Bobby grinned as Sam's face fell, and nodded approvingly as the younger Winchester pushed himself to his feet and began to collect the dishes.

Dean grinned, leaning back and relaxing. He looked over at Ellen, "Now this is the life. So... where is the rest of that pie?"

Bobby looked over to Sam, "Where the hell does he pack it all? His head?" He started putting the dishes in the dishwasher. "Sam, give those scraps to Rumsfield." Turning to get Ellen's empty plate, he saw that Dean was just sitting down to eat another huge slice of pie.

"You know what? He's always been like that. If there's food, he eats it." Sam had a faraway look in his eyes as he thought back to when they were young. "Way back, Dad would go off to fight whatever he was chasing at the time, and quite often he would stay away for days. There wasn't always food by the time he came back, and he always made sure that I didn't go hungry, right up til I realized, when I was quite a lot older. That meant that on a lot of occasions, because I didn't go hungry, he did. I think he got into the habit of getting it while the getting's good." He smiled at his brother, intent on his plate as he devoured more of Ellen's pie. "I think he's entitled, and he'd still give me his last mouthful, if I needed it. He's earned his pie."

Bobby looked at Sam then turned his attention to Dean, frowning as he placed a plate into the dishwasher. "I know your daddy did his best, but it sounds like Dean was more the father to you. He gave up a lot for you, didn't he? And not just recently." He handed Sam a glass to rinse. "Guess this once he can have his pie and eat it too."

"That's cake... you wouldn't happen to know how to bake a cake?" Dean looked at Ellen as he shoved his empty plate away.

"Yeah, I know how to bake a cake." Ellen had been listening to the conversation, and she answered Dean with a straight face. "I'll maybe put one together tomorrow, if you're a good boy." She shook her head and smiled as her eyes rested on him. "You boys had a hell of a childhood. It's amazing that you didn't grow up completely cracked."

"Oh, he did," said Sam, smiling.

"Sam is pretty badly cracked. Goes all the way up his ass." He smiled at Sam. "Wanna see?" Rising to his feet, he made as if to menace his brother. "C'mon, Sammy, show them how big your crack is."

"Get off me!" Sam backed away, hands in the air. "Dude, I'm tellin' ya, you get physical with me, and I'll clean your clock, brother or no brother."

"Yeah, you know I always kicked your ass," Dean chuckled then punched Sam on the arm before ruffling his hair. Glancing at his watch, he stretched and yawned. "Dude, time for me to get to bed." Stifling a yawn, he winked at his brother. "I'm gonna go shower. I smell like that grill," he announced and headed off toward the stairs.

Bobby watched to make sure he was out of sight. "So, Sam, you still looking for that out?"

"Hell, yeah," growled Sam. "Can't let him take the rap for me. He doesn't deserve it." He fumbled for the papers that were never far from him, pulling them out of his pocket and spreading them out on the table. "Missouri took a look at them for me. She said that I need to find a shaman to translate the passage in the middle. She couldn't read it all, but said it talked about a crystal that I'll have to find." He indicated the closely written notes he'd made from what Missouri had told him. "I'm going to find it, and then I'm going to offer him the choice. Missouri said he's never had a choice. Everyone's always imposed their will on him, and I won't do that. I'll let him decide whether he lives or dies and hope I can live with his choice." He paused, then straightened up. "If he chooses to go, I'm going with him. I won't let him go alone."

Bobby moved in closer, taking a look at what Sam had. "Shaman huh. " Bobby was looking over the paper when his head jerked up. "WHAT?! God, you Winchesters. Dean, your Daddy, and now you! Sam, you have too many people that count on you, and we need all the fighters we can get. Dean wouldn't want that. You throw your life away, how do you think that is gonna make him feel? How do you think Dean felt when John did that? He did what he did so you could live, and you are gonna take that from him?"

"Yeah," Sam said, his voice bleak. "And how do you think I feel now? I can't take my life back this way. I don't want the gift. He didn't let me die, and I don't want to lose him. It's that simple. If he hadn't done what he did, you think he'd be the one that was alive now? I'm telling you, I don't think so. I think he'd have followed me. Looks like you get us both, or you don't have either of us, so if you want us both, help me save him, because those are my terms."

"Fine, fine, just, don't seal it with a kiss or anything." Bobby moved away, making for his study. "Let me look through some of my things, see if I can find you a shaman." He left the room shaking his head and grumbling under his breath. It was going to be a long night.

"You're a loyal brother, Sam," murmured Ellen, studying him with heavy-lidded eyes. "You won't let him die; I can feel it."

"You're right, Ellen. I won't." Sam's chin jutted, his face set with determination. "One way or another I'm gonna keep him safe from hell. He doesn't deserve it, and I'll be right in front of him all the way, battling anything that tries to drag him down."

He'd finished tidying the kitchen as he spoke, and now he set the dishwasher going, the sound of it filling providing counterpoint to his terse words.

There was a scream from the upstairs, then a thud and heavy footsteps. Bobby snickered. Dean came stomping down the stairs, dressed in a towel and dripping wet. "What the hell!" He looked about and saw the dishwasher running and Sam standing by it. "You did that on purpose! I got COLD water."

Laughing, Sam surveyed his brother. "Dude, you're flashing Ellen. You're gonna scare her, if you aren't careful." He found himself fixating on the progress of one droplet of water as it made its way down over Dean's shoulder and onto his chest. "I... You know, I forgot you were having your annual bath." He reached over and paused the dishwasher. "There you go, Alice. Go wash that filthy body of yours."

Dean looked down at himself and held his towel about his waist. "Very funny. Lucky for you I just finished." He turned to head back up stairs. "Bitch," He shot back to Sam.

"Jerk!" Sam called after him, grinning as he turned back into the kitchen, shaking his head. "See what I'd be missing, if he dies?" he murmured, spreading his hands to Ellen. "How can I possibly let him go?" He took a seat at the table and put his head in his hands. "Jeez, I hope Bobby finds me someone that can help me read this fucking document. I went through hell to get it, and I'm so close, and yet it's no help to me at all, because I can't read the damned thing."

Bobby walked back in the room, "Here, I found this one. Black Feather's his name." He handed Sam the paper.

Ellen walked around to look at it. She had seemed a little flustered by Dean's appearance, but now she was focused on the paper. "Some times, Sam, you don't have a choice." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "Everything will be alright, no matter how it turns out."

"Yeah?" Sam was smiling, but his teeth were gritted as he attempted to stay pleasant. "He's not just anyone, and the normal rules don't apply." He took the paper Bobby was handing to him and studied it. "Black Feather, okay. I'll find a way to get to him.” The address of the shaman was Fredonia, Arizona, and Sam pursed his lips. "Dean's always wanted to see the Grand Canyon. Guess we'll go visit that next," he murmured. "Score!"

"You know where to reach me if you need help." Bobby smacked his back. "I'm gonna go finish taking care of things. I also have a book I want to give you before you leave." He vanished back into his study, leaving them alone. It was getting late.

"Sam, when you come up bring me some more pie!" Dean shouted down, and Sam rolled his eyes.

Calling out his goodnights to Ellen and Bobby, Sam made his way up the stairs to the room he would share with his brother. "Ellen says if you have more pie tonight there won't be any left for your breakfast in the morning," he told Dean, smirking.

Bending to fumble through the items in his duffel, he pulled out the T-shirt he usually slept in and began to prepare for bed. "You wanna go see the Grand Canyon next, dude?" he asked Dean, reaching to put out the lamp beside the bed.

Dean, clad in his underwear and nothing else, was sitting up in his bed, watching Sam as the lamp was turned out. "I wanna go there, sure," he smiled, looking as if he was wide awake. "Is there any place you want to go?" he asked his brother. Part of him was hoping they wouldn't run into any demons, but another part of him desperately wanted that.

"Nah! The Grand Canyon works for me, dude." Sam lay back, enjoying the softness of the bed, the comfort of the old fashioned comforter. "I want to take you there. Can't think of anywhere else right now." He yawned, suddenly ready for sleep. "You know what, man? You cook a damned fine steak."

"Years of practice," Dean answered, lying back and staring at the ceiling. All of a sudden he wasn't sleepy at all. He lay in bed for a while, restless and fidgety. "Night, Sammy," he whispered, then rolled over to stare out the window at the night sky. Possibly it was the pie, but whatever it was, he had way too much energy. After an hour without any sign of sleep approaching, Dean got up. He was sure everyone was asleep by now, so he padded silently out of the room, looked up and down the hall and then made for the stairs.

Ellen had also tossed and turned, unnerved by the way that Dean had behaved earlier on that evening. She'd always been attracted to him, his rough charm and rare, sweet smile something that she saw in her dreams far more frequently than she would like to admit. Tonight, the image of him as he sat in Bobby's kitchen, virtually daring her to invite him into her bed was more than enough to keep her awake. Finally, after trying in vain to find sleep, she had thrown back the covers and rolled out of bed, pulling on her wrap over her flimsy pajamas. Moving over to the door, she pulled it open and went looking for a drink of water.

Dean collided into Ellen in the dark, having passed her room just as she opened her door and stepped out. He grabbed her, threw his hand over her mouth instinctively and whirled them around till he had his body pressing her against the wall. He looked down at her, shocked. "Ellen?" He slowly released her, "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same question." She had fisted her hands and driven her right into Dean's ribs, and was about to sock him with her left, when he spoke. "You're supposed to be sleeping. I was going down to get myself a drink, because I couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?"

"I couldn't sleep," Dean backed up, rubbing his side and looked at her. Her robe was partially open, and he cleared his throat, averting his eyes and looking toward the stairs, "C'mon, let's go get your drink."

"You gonna supervise me, Dean? Make sure I leave some of Bobby's whiskey for you?" She looked archly up at him and moved away, pointedly drawing the edges of her robe together. "I wasn't really figuring on alcohol. I was thinking more of hot chocolate or something."

Dean nodded, "Sure you were." He started down the stairs first, a pale, beautiful sight, naked save for his underwear. He bounced down the last few steps and was into the kitchen getting a mug out for her before she could enter. "Hot chocolate right?"

"Yeah, that's right." She stood back, taking in the way he looked, wife beater revealing strong shoulders and clinging to his chest, while below, his boxer briefs showed the bulge of his genitals, the tight butt and the swell of powerful thighs. She licked her lips. "Chocolate's in the top cupboard. You want some?"

Dean opened up the cupboard and pulled down the chocolate mix, stretching as he did. "Sure, why drink alone if you have company." He dropped it down, then went to the fridge to pull out some milk and pour it into two cups. Setting the microwave to heat it up, he lounged against the counter top, indolent as he watched the mugs inside revolve. Once done, he poured brandy and chocolate into the milk, stirred up the mix and carried the two hot cups over to the table where Ellen had seated herself.

Seeing Ellen's legs crossed like that gave Dean pause. She was a fine looking woman. Who knew how stacked she was, when she kept it all hidden under those tight jeans and layers of clothing she habitually wore. Now he finally understood just where Jo had got her looks from. Mommy. He swallowed, cleared his throat and set her cup down, taking a seat beside her. "You know," he started out, just to make conversation, "Everything that's happened, will happen, I hope you and Bobby will look after Sam for me." He shot her a wistful look. "Someone has to. He seems to like to get himself into trouble. Oh, and there is this girl, her name is Ashley," he gave a whistle, "Cute, blonde, curves, funny. Please make sure he doesn't forget her."

"You've really given up, haven't you?" Ellen gave him a long searching look, eyes dark as she evaluated his expression. "Funny that. I never had you pegged for a quitter." She frowned at him. "Sure we'll take care of Sam. He's going to need it, because my guess is he won't want to keep on going without you. Strange as it might seem, he loves you." She blinked, feeling the tears start to her eyes and trying her best to keep them back. "Dean, I know what you did, and right or wrong it was proof of how much you love your brother, but don't you think you ought to cut the tough-guy attitude, quit pigging out and let Sam do what he's good at? If there's a way to save you, he'll find it, and if he finds it, you should take it, because he'll factor in everything that's necessary. He's not going to go doing something rash. He's too intelligent for that."

Sighing, she picked up her hot chocolate and bent her neck to blow on it. "He can't even think of losing you. Neither can Bobby. Neither can I. Give us credit. We care about you."

"It's not called giving up, it's just knowing what's gonna happen. Look, what everyone fails to understand, is that, one, I'm setting things right. Dad should be here, not me. Two, if we do anything to welsh out of this deal, Sam is dead, and I'm not gonna let that happen. So I'm just making the most of the time I have left. Hell, it's the best I've felt in a long time. Why shouldn't I enjoy myself? We're taking out as many of those evil sonsofbitches as we can along the way. I know you guys care but..." He shrugged and shook his head.

"What exactly did the demon say to you when you made the deal, Dean?" Ellen nodded but laid a hand on his arm. "What were the exact words it said?" She gave him the kind of look that said he should answer or there would be hell to pay. "Demons always leave a loophole. They just don't tell you that. Think back to what she told you, and we'll look at it, try to work the loophole out." Nodding, she turned away to sip her drink. "There's still time to outfox it."

Dean's arm burned where Ellen touched it, and he felt a weight upon him again. He sighed as he looked down and away. "She said I better not try to welsh or weasel my way out of the deal in any way, or Sam will go back to pushing up daisies. It's that simple, Ellen. It was that or nothing at all. The latter was not an option I cared to take." He looked back up at her, his eyes warning her to drop the topic.

Hmmm..." She sipped again, evidently thinking hard. "I can see why you'd be worried. Are you sure that those were her exact words?" She lifted her eyes to his and set her mug down on the table. "There's got to be a loophole; there always is. Let me think about it for a while, and see what floats to the surface." She nodded as she saw the emotion on Dean's face. "And I know you don't want my advice, but I'm gonna give it anyway. Your daddy wasn't the world's best father, but he did what he could, when he could, and no daddy deserves to see his children die before him. Accept the gift for what it was, Dean. He loved you. He wanted to prove it at last."

Dean spread his hands, stone faced. "He did it for Sam, not for me. He knew I'd been more of a father to Sam than he ever was. As much as I gave up for Dad, as much as I loved him, I was just a tool. You know he never once called me son? Son. A father should say that to his own flesh and blood, but he never did, not even when he knew he was dying. No, instead, he placed that one last weight upon my shoulders. He was a bastard. As much as I love him, he still was a bastard."

Dean pushed himself to his feet and moved to the counter, looking down into the sink. "This is my time now. A time when I finally get to do the things I want to do, while I still can. Dad took all of that from me 'til now. The least you guys can do is let me have this."

"But what is it you want?" Ellen watched him, licked her lips, remembering the feel of compact muscle under her fingertips, wishing she were Jo so that she could take him in her arms and show him how much he was wanted. She flushed, turned away and hugged herself as she realized just what she'd been contemplating. Dean was gorgeous. Every finely turned inch of his body was desirable, and she was a woman before she was anything else. Her fingers itched to touch him, and she could imagine how he'd look when he was fucking some disposable partner; all that intensity and need would be naked on his face. She gasped and crossed her legs again, rising to her feet. "Well, I... er..."

Turning back to her, Dean saw that Ellen was looking flushed. He looked her over and then crossed the room to stand beside her. "C'mon; let me tuck you in bed. It's what I want right now." He nodded, placing a hand at the small of her back. He looked couldn't help leaning to watch her ass move as she walked. Damn, he loved a great pair of legs!

Feeling unaccountably jittery, Ellen turned to leave the kitchen, empty mug now placed in the sink ready for the next dishwasher run. Dean's hand burned through her robe, tingling along her back and tightening something low in her belly, sending unaccustomed flickers of lust through her. "I'm a big girl, you know, Dean. I don't need a teddy bear or a kiss goodnight."

"Who said you needed a teddy bear? A woman like you? You need something bigger," he chuckled and moved up the stairs with her, opening the door to her room for her and following her in. "Okay, darling, in the bed." He pulled back the covers then turned to smirk at her. "You need some help?"

"You're kidding me, aren't you?" She gave him what she hoped would be a discouraging stare and stood her ground. "Thank you, Dean. That will be all!"

Apparently it didn't work. Dean wasn't discouraged. He grabbed the front of her robe, pulling at the tie as he fixed her with a sultry stare from under his lashes. "You sure about that?" He opened her robe gently, using the tie to jerk her closer as he looked down at her.

She shivered, gasped and felt the heat radiating out from him all along the front of her body. Dry mouthed, she looked up at him, suddenly aware of just how big he was, how strong. "Why?" she asked him, her voice soft and high. "You don't love me. Hell, you don't even like me that much." She lifted her hand and placed the palm of it against his chest, feeling his warmth. "Besides, there's Jo..."

"Jo's not here," Dean leaned down, "You are. So am I." He slid her robe down, gently pushing it off her shoulders. He cupped her cheek, leaning down to kiss her, just a quick brush of his lips, like a tease.

His touch was hot on her cheek; his lips made hers tingle. She gasped out a breath and closed her eyes against the kiss. "It's... been a long time," she said, desperation in her voice. "I don't need men; I don't need you."

Without her knowledge, her hand had reached out and slipped around his waist, fingers sliding under his wife-beater to burn against his skin, and she moaned softly, knowing that whatever she thought was wise, her body would not agree with her. Knowing how stupid she was being, she realized that she wanted this, and she could have it. Growling in the back of her throat, she pulled his face down to meet hers.

"Then it's a good thing I have experience," Dean smirked as he was pulled down into a kiss that was heated and demanding. He circled his arms around her, lifting her and, with a few quick steps, had her back thumping against the wall beside the bed. His mouth ravished her in a series of kisses, tongue exploring, breath drawn in through his nose.

His hips had pressed against her, revealing the growing bulge that couldn't be hidden in his underwear, and he grabbed the small, silky teddy top at the hem to lift up over her head, tossing it to the floor before rejoining his mouth to hers. He moaned, not thinking of what he was doing to the woman he saw as a mother figure. Right now she was just a woman, and he was a guy. There was a need between them, a desire that needed quenching. Both just needed to know someone cared for the other, even if it was just for a single brief moment in time.

She'd always been attracted to Dean. His mobile, silky mouth and huge, expressive eyes had riveted her to him, and his ability to be wryly humorous had drawn her, held her, entranced her. Now, all she could do was melt against him, fingers sliding into his hair as she opened her mouth under his. She wanted him, knowing it was stupid, knowing it was going to be over far too soon, and that there was no way he would stay with her. Her fingers curled, nails scratching his skin as her body shivered under his caresses. His tongue invaded her mouth, heat and wet and needful, claiming her as his and scoring her heart as perfectly if he'd stabbed her with his knife.

"You don't want to do this," she gasped. "Trust me. Bad idea."

Dean was breathing heavy, his hips grinding against hers. He reached up, brushing his hand over her hair. He tipped his head, and his lips quirked to one side. "How bad can it get for me?" He leaned in and kissed her quickly, his hands moving over her body, caressing up her ribs until he could cup her breasts and tease her nipples.

"I wasn't thinking about you," she said, grimly, her mouth chasing his as he moved back. She slid one hand down under the elastic of his boxers, cupped one firm buttock and pulled him close, inhaling as she felt the hard length of him, the press of his hips telling her wordlessly just how much he wanted her at that moment. "So you tell me. How bad?"

Dean encircled her, turning them again, and, in one smooth movement, he had them falling to the bed, "I don't see a problem," he breathed over her lips before dropping his head to one of her breasts to suckle there. He pushed his hand down inside her panties and his searching fingers found and rubbed over her clit. He dragged his mouth up along her neck. "We both need this. Just don't think, Ellen. Let me." He pulled back so he could look down at the way his fingers were pushing inside her.

She moaned. Everything below her waist felt liquid, heavy and sweet. She felt her legs slide open without her volition, felt herself dripping with juices, moist and delicious as his fingers filled her. Another growl caught at the back of her throat, and she gripped his hair, yanking him back to her mouth. The kiss was brutal this time, her teeth on his lip, her mouth demanding. "Okay," she said. "Do it. Get these off." She writhed out of her panties, tugged at his wife-beater until he raised his arms and then threw it onto the floor to lie forgotten. "Better," she said and bit his shoulder.

Pulling his fingers from her, he allowed her to lose his shirt, but not before kissing her hard. He got to his feet and slid his underwear down, then off, his cock springing forth as he moved. Approaching her, he climbed back onto the bed and grabbed her wrist to pull her hard against him, so she was sitting up, her legs parted around his kneeling form. Gripping her hair, he kissed her hard, wet and messy.

His strength was so arousing; she felt delicate in his arms, knew she could let him carry her and hated that she wanted him to do so. "You think that any girl is yours for the taking, don't you?" she said. "You think that you can just take whatever the fuck you want." She scratched his back, scoring it from the edge of one winged shoulder-blade down to his hip. "I think I hate you. You're arrogant, overbearing as fuck, and you don't give a shit."

Growling, Dean pressed her tight against his chest. "You hate me for another reason, Ellen, don't you?" He leaned down and bit her neck, working his way up towards her ear and nibbling at it. Pushing her back upon the bed, he dropped over her, resting on his hands, and lowered his head down to capture the nipple he'd neglected earlier, pulling at it with his teeth and lips before running his tongue around the hard nub. "You hate that I can make you feel this way, and even more you hate that you want it."

"Aren't there any boundaries you won't cross? Anything you won't do, just because you feel like it?" There was pain in her voice, and she squirmed against him, rubbing herself against his cock. The feel of him against her, silken-smooth, hard and sticky, made her catch her breath and move again, writhing under him. Once again, her fingers gripped his ass, squeezing, pulling him tight so that she could grind her clit against his cock. "What are you going to do now? You going to fuck me, or you just gonna show it to me and put it away again?"

Dean gazed down at the woman, then lowered his head and sucked a hickey into her neck. "There are a few things." He started to rock his hips slowly, feeling her juices slicking him up as he moved. He made a sound of approval deep in his throat and dropped onto one elbow, running one hand down to her leg and pulling as he lifted it up to place around his hip. "I don't know, you think I should?" He curved his hand down around her ass, holding them close.

"I know you should," she said. "I know you absolutely should, but you're not going to, are you?" She gave a little wriggle and felt his cock press against her slick tissues, so close, so close. Just one slight push of her body would suck him into her, and her heart beat a tattoo at that thought, wanting, wanting so badly she could taste it. "You're not going to stop, because that's who you are, and I won't fight you off and walk away, because... because I've got too much pride." She moved her hips slightly, and the head of his dick slid against her cunt, spreading her juices and sending a shivery wave of pleasure through her. "So do it, Dean! Let's go!"

Dragging his mouth along Ellen's jaw, over her cheek and up to her lips, Dean gave in. He thought that she hated him already, thought that was okay, because he would soon be dead and gone. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that if he did this now he would be remembered. That was all he craved, that someone would remember him when his body was ashes and he was in hell. With a simple shift of his hips, Dean pushed inside her, going in deep, only stopping when his balls slapped her ass. For a few moments they paused, frozen in the enormity of bliss, and then he pushed in harder, jolting them both, and started fucking her.

Moaning softly, she met him halfway, her hips rising to drive him deeper. Her body shuddered. This was Dean, a boy she'd seen and wanted, ruthlessly suppressing that desire, first because her daughter had also wanted him and second because he was Dean Winchester, arrogant, cocky, careless and dirty, and she was twenty years his senior. And now here he was, and she had him in her arms, had him deep in her body, and she thought that it would break her.

She caught his lips against hers, kissed him wet and sloppy, wanting, taking whatever she could while it was still within her grasp, and writhed against him as he pistoned in and out of her.

Dean kept his thrusts slow and firm. His cock slid easily in and out, but he could feel how her inner walls clasped, trying to keep him inside, not wanting him to leave her. For a while he was content to drive into her, rocking both her and the bed, then he pulled out, turned her over, guided her hands to rest on her headboard while his own grasped her hips as he pressed his cock back into her. Sliding an arm around her, he fondled her breasts as he fucked her, biting at her shoulders, back and neck, whispering filthy words against her ears.

Crying out, she forced herself back onto him, letting his cock impale her, feeling him with every nerve. She slid her knees apart, trying to pull him deeper into her and cursed when he held her steady. Seizing his hand in hers, she brought it down to her clit, body owning her as she strove for her climax. "Do it, Dean! Fuck you! Do it hard."

Dean moved his hand down, tickling her clit with his calloused fingers. As he rammed into her, the bed moved, hitting the wall. "Fuck, Ellen," Dean growled as he felt himself slip in and out of her. He ran his free hand up her spine and tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling back on it so he could lean around and bite her exposed throat.

'Bastard," she snarled. She would be marked in the morning. Sam and Bobby would both know where the bruising had come from, and that made her want to kill the insufferable young brat that had cornered her so neatly. His fingers were driving her crazy as they flew over her clit. His cock was starting to drive the shivery sweet tingles through her, and she wanted to scream, "Don't mark me up, you bastard!"

Dean gave a chuckle in her ear, "I know not to leave marks." He pulled her back against him, her back to his chest as he pounded into her. "Just come for me, let me feel it." He kissed her neck then turned her head and allowed his tongue to play with hers, licking her lips and kissing her.

The bastard was good at what he did, Ellen would give him that much. She kissed him back, feverishly, and felt herself losing her battle. She cried out as she came, slick tissues sucking on the cock that impaled her as they convulsed, clasping and releasing as waves of pleasure flooded her.

Dean kept fucking her, slowing only as he felt her calming down. He pulled her off, laid her down on her back and lowered himself back over her, filling her again. Rocking into her once again, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she jerked on him with her heels, pulling him tight inside her and coming again and again. He seemed tireless, hips pistoning as he fucked her, until she wondered if he would ever release. She squeezed her muscles tight, undulated beneath him, murmured filthy words into his ear as she tried to make him lose it, eyes fixed on his face, determined to see him fall apart.

Dean was returning the kisses, his free hand supporting the arch that had formed in her back. He kept pounding into her, moaning as he pressed his ear against her lips. Turning his head back, he bit her bottom lip, hips swinging as he fucked her hard. He let go of her wrists, grabbing her legs ungently as he held her legs apart.

It wasn't long before he Dean groaned, his head rolled back, and he felt the tingling, clenching, burning around his balls as they drew up. Suddenly he was releasing, slamming into her hard as pleasure took him, shook him and made him fall apart.

His face was worth watching, those white teeth bared, pretty eyes staring into hers as he shuddered through his orgasm. She found herself holding him tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him as if she could somehow keep him safe that way. She felt tears wet on her face and shook her head in an attempt to hide the fact. She'd known, been afraid that this would happen, and now it had, and she loved him, and there was no way out except cold turkey. Biting her lip, she waited for him to make fun of her.

Dean settled over her, lying half upon her, and sighed happily. When he'd recovered again he lifted his head to look at her, then leaned in and kissed her. He brushed his thumb over her cheek and kissed her again, more deeply this time, running his hand down her body. "That was ... incredible," he murmured and snuggled down against her.

That made her pause, eyes wide as she studied him. "You thinkin' you might stay there?" she asked him, knowing that he should leave but wanting him to stay - forever, if only he would. "Seems to me Sam and Bobby'll have a conniption fit if you do. Neither of them are used to sharing." She traced the tendon in his neck down to his chest and then began drawing little circles on his skin with her forefinger. "Depends how much hell you want to raise."

"True, but would be funny as hell to see. Bobby and conniptions don't seem to..." He paused then looked at her, "Share?" He blinked, not thinking that Ellen and Bobby... He swallowed, then sighed. "Well, Sam was never really good at sharing, even as a kid. I guess I should go back to the room so he..." He didn't want to move, but he knew he had no choice. He slowly pulled away from her, rolled and reached for his underwear.

"Bobby's convenient, and he's kind, and grateful as all hell," murmured Ellen, admiring the play of muscle under pale, freckled skin as he pulled on his shirt and reached for his shorts. "Sometimes a fuck is just a fuck. Do you fuck Sam?" she asked him, knowing he wouldn't tell her, but believing that his reaction to the question would be tantamount to an answer.

Dean jerked his head around, "No ... no, course not. He's my brother. And I don't swing that way." He turned back, glad it was dark because it hid the expression upon his face. He so wanted to fuck his brother. He wanted to feel Sam's lips on his. Rock into his brother and make him feel as Ellen did right now. He wanted to wake up in Sam's arms as a lover, not just holding him because he was scared.

Gathering himself, he stood and pulled his underwear up, then turned and tucked Ellen in. "Sleep tight, Ellen," Dean whispered to her and kissed her gently.

"You too," she whispered, praying that the tears she wanted to shed would hold back long enough to get rid of him. "See you in the morning." The kiss surprised a little whimper out of her, and she cupped his cheek, closing her eyes as she tasted him, knowing that it was likely the last time. As she watched him go, cat-footed and silent, she waited until the door closed behind him and then allowed herself to cry.

Dean padded back down the hall and back into the room he shared with Sam, silently opening it and closing it behind him. He paused, feeling an emotional tug to go back, but he knew he couldn't. Shouldn't. He leaned his head against the door for a moment before turning away and heading for his bed.

"I suppose that makes you feel good, doesn't it?" Sam's voice came out of the darkness bitter and angry. "Seriously, Dean, is there anything you're not capable of? You fuck everything just because it's there. That was Ellen, dude. Ellen, and I happen to like Ellen. Why couldn't you keep it in your pants for even one night?"

Dean stopped as his brother spoke. Sam's bitterness and anger was unmistakable, and he didn't know how to react at the moment. He made for his bed. "It takes two, Sam." Dean climbed between the sheets. "I like her too. And anyway why do you care? Besides, she said the same thing. Didn't stop her though."

"And that's enough, is it?" Sam gave a harsh laugh. "You're a slut, Dean. You'll go with anyone. I hope you didn't give her any diseases. I don't suppose you're worrying about diseases too much these days. Why can't you just... stay with one person that loves you? Why do you have to spread it around like that?"

"Stay with one person? Dude!" Dean sat up. "All I have is you. You are my brother so yeah, I'm gonna be horny." He got up and crossed over to Sam's bed. "You never complained before. What is up with you?"

"It's... I..." Sam gazed at Dean, mutely longing. Dean's mouth was full, kiss-plumped and sensual, and Sam wondered what Dean'd do if he leaned forward right now and just kissed him. He licked his own lips, heart bouncing inside his chest as if it were attempting to escape, "Goddammit, Dean."

Dean reached out, wrapping a hand around the back of Sam's neck. He leaned in close, pressing their foreheads together. "Sam, I'm staying with you 'til the end. Through all the demons. Through all the other things we run into. I'm staying with you ‘til that day."

Dean's breath smelled faintly of hot chocolate and brandy, and underlying that was the scent of the shampoo he'd used earlier. Sam felt his head swim, and he put his hands on Dean's shoulders, gripping them tightly. He wanted to scream at Dean that there would not be 'that day.' He wanted to throw Dean back on the bed and ravish him. He wanted to beat him bloody. He bit his lip and tried to hold back the tears of frustration he refused to shed.

Dean felt Sam's hot hands upon him. Goosebumps formed under his fingers and spread down his arms, across his chest, making his nipples harden. He felt his own breath catch at the mere touch, and he couldn't stop the motion he felt his body fall into. Dean closed his eyes, rubbing his nose against Sam's before tipping his head. Pressing his brother towards him, Dean pulled Sam that short breath's distance, and his lips brushed Sam's before he opened his own, giving Sam a deep, longing kiss.

Sam froze for a moment, wondering what the hell was happening. A throb of lust pulsed through him, shaking him as Dean's mouth found his and captured it. He groaned and closed his eyes, letting his lips part, and for a moment this was all he wanted, and all he'd ever need.

And then he remembered. This was Dean, and he'd just been fucking Ellen, and there was no way - no way on earth that he was going to take Ellen Harvelle's leftovers. He pulled away from his brother and glared at him, unspeaking.

Dean swallowed hard, realizing what he'd just done. He'd kissed his own brother - something he'd been itching to do for ... what seemed like forever. Since they were kids. Oh god, he'd fucked things up royally, that was proven by the look on Sam's face. Dean couldn't look at his brother, too embarrassed to face him. He pushed away, grabbing at his clothing. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'll go sleep downstairs." He was pulling his jeans on as he spoke, heading for the door already.

Sam sat in his bed, watching him go, his thoughts so confused that he couldn't think straight. He fingered his lips, still tingling from the press of Dean's and shivered. Dean had kissed him - kissed him like he meant it, and whether that was because he actually did mean it, or whether it was some kind of Deanish mind game, he didn't know. It scared him, because it had been wonderful. It had been everything he'd thought about for the past year or so, and for one tiny second he'd felt as though he could have it. He thought about going after Dean and begging him to come back, and then he remembered Ellen in the room beside his. Perhaps it was better the way things were.

Sam lay down, but he didn't sleep again that night.

Silently, Dean padded his way down the stairs once more. He'd screwed things up royally by kissing his brother. That was something he should not have done, no matter how strong his urges were, and yet, he'd given in to them. As he sat down on the couch heavily, Dean could hear his father's voice. You disappoint me, Dean. You could never keep your urges under control. I warned you they would get you into trouble. They could cost lives. Already cost you yours. Dean looked down at his hands; they were trembling. They were itching to push him back up and go back and take his brother in his arms. He wanted to feel his brother against him. Wanted to smell him. Wanted to...

He bit his bottom lip. He could have sworn he'd felt Sam responding to him. And yet Sam had given him that look. He slid down on the couch, leaning to one side and curling up. He'd fucked things up, plain and simple. Now he had to figure something out. Dean's eyes slowly drifted closed and there he slept, cold, alone.

The morning dawned, cold and bleak. There had been a scattering of snow during the night, and the wind rattled the windows. Sam stumbled down the stairs before it was light and into the kitchen looking for coffee. Fumbling to put the coffee machine together, he hoped that he could get at least one cup inside him before anyone actually spoke to him.

Dean seemed to be asleep, and Sam peered at him through the open doorway, wishing that things were different, noting the smudges of blue under his brother's eyes and longing to kiss them away.

Dean woke with a start, jerking awake and looking around, wide-eyed, before his green eyes fell upon his brother as he disappeared into the kitchen. Dean pushed himself up, wishing that he could just stay where he was for a little while longer but refusing to give way to the temptation. He clambered to his feet and shuffled into the kitchen. "Hey, Sam." Not Sammy. "We should head out when you're ready." the 'if he still wanted' remained unspoken, but he could feel it hanging between them.

"Head out where?" mumbled Sam, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the coffee maker. He felt antsy, and aroused, and he didn't dare turn towards his brother because of that arousal. "You got somewhere to be, or do you just want to avoid Ellen?"

"I just thought we could head to Mount Rushmore and do tourist thing, but if you want to stay here..." Dean shrugged as he reached for two cups and pulled them out of the cupboard. Pouring the coffee, he slid one over to Sam and raised his own to his lips. "So no, not avoiding Ellen," he said as he met his brother's eyes at last. "And, whatever, dude! What do you want for breakfast? I'm cooking." He made for the fridge and started pulling some things out, grateful for the distraction.

"Mount Rushmore?" Sam stood staring at his empty mug. "Why? What's at Mount Rushmore?" He shook himself and moved forward to pour more coffee for himself, adding cream and sugar until he'd got it to his liking. Taking a sip, he shuddered and then addressed the next question. "Sausage, eggs and bacon, toast and hash browns. Want me to get the hash browns going?" He didn't wait for Dean to answer, merely went to get the frozen package out of the freezer and take it over to Dean.

Dean gave a shrug and nodded. "Why not. Get to see some pretty big heads. Bigger than yours," He ruffled Sam's hair, then, with a brush of his hand over Sam's, took the hash browns. "Sausage and eggs and bacon, no pancakes too?" he teased, pulling pans out to start cooking. "Just call it one of my last dying wishes."

"There you go with the dying wishes again." Sam's fingers tingled from the touch of Dean's hand, and all of a sudden he was aroused again, hard inside his jeans and damning Dean for the kiss they'd shared. "Okay, we go to Mount Rushmore. We can maybe abseil down Abe Lincoln's nose. It's not that far from here anyway, is it?"

"Not far at all," Dean answered, beating the eggs to make a large batch, knowing that Ellen and Bobby would want some too. "Now go sit down, unless you're gonna hover." Dean was fighting to keep things casual, as if nothing had happened, typically the Winchester way of dealing with things. His father had done it often. There had been moments when the two would feel tension like this, and then suddenly, somehow it would be sidestepped, and both would be back to what was normal for the Winchesters. Dean guessed he'd learned more than just hunting skills from his father.

As he made breakfast, Dean kept glancing back at Sam, taking in the way those dark locks hung down over his eyes, the way Sam's lips were wet from his coffee. He had the urge to lick it away, but after Sam's reaction last night he was surprised his brother wasn't yelling at him. Perhaps what he'd felt from Sam's lips was just wistful thinking on his part. He looked back down at the stove, and it wasn't long before he was placing everything on plates and setting it upon the table. "Eat up, bro," he said, going to pour himself more coffee before sitting down.

Sitting at the table was safe for Sam. All inappropriate urges were masked by the table, so he relaxed and began to eat, and that's where Bobby found the two of them when he appeared a few minutes later. "I see you're making yourself at home," he murmured. "Is there more?" He peered into the pans on the stove and grunted in satisfaction as he helped himself. "What's on the agenda, guys?" he asked, bringing his plate back to the table and taking his seat. "You gonna stick around for a day or two? I've got a Thunderbird out in the back lot I could use your expertise on."

"Well I think that's up to Sam," Dean took a bite of his eggs. "And how come you need help on a Thunderbird? Engine?" He stabbed a sausage and handed it over to Sam the way he'd always done when they were kids.

Snagging the sausage, Sam waved it as he gave Bobby his usual wide smile. "Dean wanted to go look at Mount Rushmore; it's his dying wish." He made a comical face. "We could come back here after, if that's okay."

"Sure." Bobby scooped up a forkful of hash browns and turned to Dean. "Damn thing won't start for me no matter what I do to it, and I know you have the knack of getting these old cars to go for you. Was thinking you could maybe sing to it or something, because damned if I can see what's up with it."

"Damn, Bobby," Dean chuckled. "You're great with weapons and books, pretty much awesome getting me the parts to rebuild my Impala, but you still can't get a Thunderbird running?" He shook his head, pity oozing from him so that Bobby laughed and threatened him with his fork. "Well, we can take a look at it later, if you really want the help." Dean looked at Sam, watching his brother eating the sausage, and he blushed fiercely at the thoughts running through his head just then. Turning back to his plate, he quickly started eating again. A brief thought of where Ellen might be crossed his mind.

"Wouldn't mind." Bobby kept shoveling the food in as he spoke. "Why'n't you go hit up Rushmore, and then come play with the T'bird. I've got to get that gun of yours back together again, so if you do it that way around I'll likely have it ready for you to take with you when you go."

"You think that it's gonna work again, Bobby?" Sam spoke around a mouthful of sausage. "If a way could be found to make it work again, I've got a use for it for sure."

"We all have, Sam," nodded Bobby as Ellen appeared in the doorway and went to get coffee.

Dean got up and fetched a plate for her, setting it down in her place at the table. He looked at her, watching her and wondering if she was going to keep a distance between them after the previous night.

"Well if it works, bonus, if not..." He shrugged as the thought hung in the air. "Well, I cooked, so you guys can clean up." He rose to his feet and went to the door. "I'm gonna go wash up."

Sam was still eating, staying quiet as he worked his way through his breakfast. He glowered at Ellen for a few minutes and then finished his food and rose to his feet to go and empty the dishwasher from the previous evening.

"What's up with you, Sam? Dean giving you a hard time?" Bobby looked up at him, frowning at Sam's morose manner.

"Just thinking," said Sam. "Can't do anything more til I get to see your shaman guy." He kept his eyes averted from Ellen, hoping that Bobby wouldn't pick up on the anger he was feeling.

"Right, just thinking out loud." Bobby gulped his coffee and looked over at Ellen. "Dean made breakfast. Have some. Boy can cook. Who knew." Getting to his feet, he placed his cup in the sink.

Dean was upstairs washing up and shaving. The face reflected in the mirror had dark circles under its eyes and even worse was the sad look upon its face as he thought about Sam, remembering how his brother's lips had felt against his. Dean wanted that again. He needed it. He'd had a taste of his brother, and now he wanted more. Finishing his shave, he returned to sit on the stairs, wondering what Sam had decided about the trip to Mount Rushmore.

It took Sam a while to tidy up after breakfast, but at last he was done. He ignored Ellen totally, feeling his jealousy like a physical pain in his stomach and made his escape as soon as he could. He found Dean still on the stairs and stopped dead to stare at him. "Dean? What are you doing? I thought we were going to see Mount Rushmore. Did you change your mind? Let's go, dude."

Dean raised his head to his brother, favoring Sam with a small smile that was the only outward expression of the relief he felt like a punch to his stomach. "I'm packed, ready to go. Was just waiting on you." He pushed himself to his feet and went back up the stairs to grab his bag and drop it on his bed. He wanted to hug Sam - to put his arms around his brother and let him know how much he still cared even though Sam was repelled by his actions.

Sam followed him and quickly stuffed his belongings into his own bag. "We gonna be coming back so you can check out that old car of Bobby's, or we gonna be movin' on?" he asked Dean, shouldering his duffel and picking up his newly charged laptop.

"I don't know," Dean informed him, "Let's just play it by ear." He led the way down the stairs, bag in hand. "We're gonna head out. I'll get postcards for you guys," he called out to Bobby and Ellen.

"See you when you get back," shouted Bobby, who was deep in the perusal of a book containing page after page of sigils and diagrams.

Sam gave Bobby a meaningful glance as they passed the study and received a meaningful look in return. Ellen called Sam back, and he went with ill grace to find himself the recipient of a carrier bag packed with sandwiches, cake, pie and flasks of coffee. Thanking her without meeting her eyes, he took the provisions and hurried after his brother, climbing into the passenger's seat and buckling up with a sigh of relief. "Let's go," he growled.

Dean had given Ellen a smile, letting her know what they shared hadn't affected their relationship. He gave her another before leaving the house and going to the car. When Sam joined him, Dean started the engine. It seemed that his brother's mood was still in the toilet, so he shrugged and pulled away, soon turning onto the road to head south. He stayed silent for a long while, not even the radio on to mask the strained atmosphere in the car. Finally he shrugged and looked over at Sam. "I think you're are gonna have some competition for who has the biggest head, you or George Washington."

"Huh?" murmured Sam. "I'm not with you." He yawned and stretched, then turned to look at his brother. "If you're looking to pick a fight, I'm really not interested. I don't even have a clue what to say to you, Dean. I don't understand why you had to go fuck with Ellen of all people. What the hell is wrong with you?" He gave a sigh and scratched his head. "It's like you can't stop yourself, and I wish you'd get yourself together. You're better than that, dude. I know you are. Help me find a way out of the bargain and stop just giving in to all your instincts, because, if you go on the way you are, you're gonna end up possessed; I know it."

Dean looked away, "I don't want to argue with you over it." He smiled. "You know she said you wouldn't like sharing," he said, adding in a mumble, "I'm not gonna help you, Sam. I've told you that. I'm not gonna let you die. I have the medallion Bobby gave us to protect us from possession so, just... let me have some happiness before it ends."

"It's not going to end." Sam's temper flared. He turned his face away to try and hide the tears that had started coursing unbidden down his cheeks. "You can say what you like, do what you like, but it's not going to end, and if it does, then so am I." His face took on the bullheaded look Sam knew so well from his childhood, chin jutting pugnaciously. "I've told you, you an' me are going together, wherever it takes."

"Apparently I can't do or say what I like," Dean grumbled again then rolled the window down.

"You're kidding me. We've all been doing what you like, so don't you say that. We're going to Mount Rushmore because you want to, and we went to Lawrence because you wanted to, and let me see, Houston and San Antonio too. You're doing what you like all the time, aren't you? It's me that isn't allowed to say what I want, because you won't let me, and you won't listen." And I love you, Dean, he thought, catching his breath.

"Gee, you didn't get pissy ‘til I came back to the room last night. You didn't complain once all those times ‘til now. You know I could always turn back around and leave you at Bobby's if you don't want to be around me any more."

"You didn't tell me you couldn't do or say what you liked before," growled Sam. "And I said I'd go, didn't I?"

Dean didn't respond after that. Even if he was thinking that he had done everything ... everything Sam had ever wanted since they were kids. Dean had given up a lot so Sam could do what he wanted. He'd been the one who took him to soccer practice. He'd let Sam leave him without a single reproach when he'd left to go to Stanford, and he'd stood between Sam and their father when he had to. And now that he was dying, it seemed as if things were still all about what Sam wanted.

Reaching over, Dean turned on the radio - a typical thing that John had always done when arguing with Sam, and apparently now a typical thing Dean did as well to avoid more argument.

Sam nodded and scrubbed at his face, trying to get rid of the wet tracks on his cheeks. He wondered whether anything was worth it any more. His brother obviously didn't care about him and would continue to shut him out, and he was all out of suggestions. Sighing, he leaned back against the leather seat and closed his eyes, shutting the world out so that he could think. He had to do something, but heaven only knew what that something was.

Finally, he asked Dean, "How far is it to Mount Rushmore?"

"A few hours." He answered. "You aren't gonna start with the 'are we there yet' are you?" Dean gave his brother a small smile. The tension was heavy, and Dean knew it, although exactly why was hard to pinpoint. He glanced over to his brother. He had to make things better. He watched the road, trying to think of how he could overcome the tension between them. At last, an idea popped into his head and made him smile. Yeah, that should do it. Now just had to plan it out, most importantly, without his brother knowing.

"If you like I can sit in the back seat and kick your seat every five minutes for that trip down memory lane." Sam gave him a reluctant grin. The bottom line was that he loved his brother, and because he loved him, he would forgive him for anything. Sighing, he relaxed and gazed at his brother. "We've got a bunch of food when it's lunchtime," he told Dean. "Maybe we should wait til we get there first and then check it out."

Dean smiled kindly. "Yeah, well, please don't. I don't want your big-ass boot prints on my seat." He nodded. "Okay, eat later. Let's get there and check things out. Hey, maybe we can find a place to eat? Outside I mean."

"A picnic in South Dakota in November? Cool... Actually more than cool. Fucking freezing, I expect." Sam laughed out loud. "But okay. We'll check it out and see if we can find somewhere. We can always sit in the car and pretend if it's too cold."

Dean nodded, "True enough." He felt the tension in the air starting to fade a little although it still remained in the background. It had changed a little, and now seemed to be on a totally different level.

Driving on through the cold, dreary landscape, Dean followed the signs 'til he found the monument. Pulling in to the parking lot, he stopped, facing it. The place was covered in snow , and Dean sat in the car, looking at it, impressed. "Dude, that's full-on amazing. I wish Dad would have taken us to some of these places, just for a day. You know." He looked over at his brother, who was apparently lost in contemplation of the sculpture himself.

"I do too," said Sam, after a pause. "It's quite the landmark, isn't it?" He glanced at Dean and felt something in his chest kick painfully. "I wish for a whole lot of things that didn't happen for us and probably never will, now." Closing his eyes and leaning his head back, he bit his lip. "Why us, dude? Why did all this shit have to happen to us? Why couldn't you and I have led a good life - the kind of life everyone else manages to live without even trying?"

"Because their mother wasn't killed by a demon," Dean answered as he tried to ignore the first words Sam had muttered, about wishing for a whole lot of things that would never happen. Like the kiss - the kiss Dean wanted to plant on his brother all over again. Hastily, he pushed open the door and got out, pulling his jacket on as he went. "Let's go, dude." He set off, the snow crunching under his boots, heading for the monument, which, unsurprisingly on such a dreary day, seemed deserted.

"Wait up," called Sam, hurrying out after his brother. "You want me to bring the food with us, or are you gonna hightail it up that mountain so you can stick your head into Abe's left nostril and see if there's an echo?" He caught Dean's arm and pulled him round. "Slow down and smell the... the..." He looked around himself, trying to discern some kind of vegetation he could identify. "Uh... dandelions."

Dean stopped, looking at Sam, then looked about. "Dude, there's snow on the ground and..." he fell suddenly silent as a scream rang out from the direction of the monument. In the distance, they saw something fall, and Dean looked at Sam, then back to the mountain again. "Jeez, was that a body?" He took off, running.

Frozen for a moment as he watched his brother, Sam began to run after Dean. They were some distance from the foot of the mountain, but they covered the ground fast, and soon Sam pounded up to find his brother kneeling over what seemed to him to be a very obviously dead man. "What the hell?" he asked, looking around him and craning his neck to see who might be likely to fall on him next. "Is there anyone else up there?"

Dean shook his head, not sure, and he craned his neck as well, squinting up. "I can't tell." He looked back down. The guy was mangled and broken, that was for sure, and it was not a pleasant sight. He stood up as an officer ran over.

"What happened?" The Ranger asked.

"Just heard a scream and then ..." Dean motioned down. Cops. Just geniuses when it comes to asking the obvious. The Ranger stood aside to call it in, and Dean hit Sam's chest, "Let's go check out up there, where he came from." He motioned towards the sculpture and started gradually working his way around the side, towards the entrance, to work his way into the monument, never doubting that Sam would follow. "You see the look on that guy's face - what's left of it, anyway. Looked like he saw a ghost."

"You think?" Sam shrugged and followed Dean as he started to climb. They scrambled up a few steep boulders, squeezing through pine branches that seemed to reach out and grab at their clothes, then came to a high-security fence. Sam looked at Dean and then back to the fence, and almost as if it had been choreographed, the two of them were up and over the fence as if they were jet propelled. Beyond the fence there was a near-vertical flight of metal steps that took them into a granite crevice running behind the presidential heads—an oblong sliver that Sam thought looked as if it could be the secret entrance to a pharaoh’s tomb.

The stairs seemed endless, but finally the brothers emerged into daylight again and found themselves on the top of George Washington's head.

Dean looked around himself every step of the way, his green eyes taking everything in. He hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary until he reached the top. It was colder up there - for a moment it seemed to be way colder than it ought to be, although the sudden cold was gone again in an instant. Dean looked at Sam to see if he'd noticed anything and then started walking around. There was a chilly breeze up at the top of the monument, and after a few moments Dean could have sworn that he was hearing words upon the wind.

Love me.

Standing at the edge of the stairs, Sam watched his brother with a frown. The wind was biting, and he wondered how long they should stay where they were. "Dude, there's nothing here. Better come back here, or you're going to end up plummeting to your doom like that poor guy we saw down below." He shivered, suddenly taken by a premonition he couldn't quite follow, but which made him worry about Dean.

Dean moved away from the edge of the monument and walked over to where Sam was standing. He looked at his brother, the wind whipping at his hair, and the sight made him think inappropriate thoughts about his younger brother. He swallowed hard. "Okay, but I still want to check this place out." He still had that eerie feeling he'd heard a voice upon the wind.

"I've got a bad feeling about this place, Dean. There's something..." Sam felt the skin on the back of his neck creep as a sudden cold shivered over him. "Dean, come down and stand on the stairs, please, dude." He climbed out of the stairwell and looked around, but there was nothing visible in the dying light of autumn. For a moment, he thought he saw a shadowy figure wrap its arms around his brother, but then just as suddenly it was gone. "Jesus, Dean. There's something here."

Dean had been starting to move away from the edge when he suddenly felt a chill, and then something bathed over him with a wash of warmth. He felt arms around him, a need surging through him, and a whispered voice tickled against his ear. Then as fast as it had come it was gone, in a blink, a mere gasp, gone, and he was left cold and alone with Sam yelling at him. He turned his head toward his brother and went back to him. "What?" he asked, frowning.

"Dude, there's something here; I saw it touch you. I'm scared. You could end up tossed down over the edge like that guy we saw at the bottom." Sam reached out to touch his brother's arm, gripping it as if he thought Dean would be ripped away and hurled into space in the next few moments. "We need to find out who's haunting this place. Something sure is, and it seems to have latched onto you."

"Me?" Dean shook his head, "Yeah, I have the rugged-good-looking features, but who could resist your baby face?" Dean patted Sam's cheek. "You're right, I'm much better looking." He started past Sam, moving down the stairs. "Okay. Time to do a little legwork. You go check the records, see what you can find. I'll go chat it up with one of the rangers, see what I can dig up there."

"Good call." Sam turned to go down the stairs, but as he went to descend he felt the sudden cold hit, and he reeled as an unseen blow knocked him off his feet and sent him tumbling down the steps to fetch up against Dean. "Jesus, Dean! Whatever this thing is, it doesn't seem to like me too much."

Dean had turned quickly and braced himself as he caught his brother in his arms. Sam was and would always be his first priority. That was why he'd given up his life for his brother. He looked Sam over to make sure he was okay and then set him back on his feet.

The steep descent was completed rapidly, and together the brothers swarmed back over the security barrier. "I guess that we just found the reason why people are barred from going up to the top of the monument, wouldn't you say?" murmured Sam, shaking his head.

"Or that it's close to winter, and it gets pretty cold and slippery," Dean suggested, looking back up as he tugged Sam along by the arm. "Okay, let's split up. I'll catch you back at the car in about an hour?" He made for the Rangers hut as Sam headed toward the information center.

The Center was small and rustic, and there was no internet service available. Sam was greeted by a very enthusiastic older gentleman who began to reel off statistics about the mountain sculpture and the man who had constructed it. When Sam asked about people disappearing or dying close by, the man became much less communicative and finally Sam left to meet with Dean, having had little success. He chafed without access to the internet, knowing that the information would be there if he could only access it.

Dean was waiting by the car when he returned, arms crossed over his chest, leaning on the front end, waiting for Sam. Before his brother could get close, Dean was talking. "Well, I swear some of these folks around here have never seen company in all their lives. I ever start rambling on about nothing, put me out of your misery." He opened up the car and climbed in as Sam drew level with him. "Seems there have been a number of deaths here. Most were workers who died from harmless stuff, but they say there was one mysterious disappearance that might match what we're looking for. Her name was Angela Smith, and she vanished about fifty years ago."

"We need to look into that, for sure, because it was a woman up there, I'd swear to that." Sam nodded, listening and leaning his elbow on the roof of the car as he scratched his head.. "And they didn't really want to talk about anything that might be construed as negative in the information center, so I struck out. There's no internet round here, either. so I suggest we go find a motel and a library, so I can start looking for more information." Sam got into the car and shut the door on the chilly wind that was beginning to grow. "Dude, I thought Bobby lived at the back of beyond, but I was wrong. This is officially more remote than Bobby's place."

"Okay, I think they said there was a place near by. Keystone." Dean nodded and started the car, cranking the heater up to warm it. "Okay, we'll get your internet connection, oh and I picked these up for you." Dean handed Sam some brochures. "Figured they might help."

Taking the collection of papers without comment, Sam fastened his seat belt and . "Did they say that Angela Smith died here, or did she just disappear? We need to find her body and salt and burn it, if it's actually her." He began to leaf through the brochures that Dean had given to him, looking for clues. "Yeah, let's get to a motel and eat the good stuff Ellen packed up for us.”

Dean drove toward Keystone, searching for the first motel he could find. Finally spotting a Best Western, he pulled in and got them a room in the back the way their father had taught them. Entering the room, he tossed his bag down on one of the beds. "I think you should have free connection here. The room cost enough for it. Hope they have decent porn." He reached for the bag containing the food Ellen had packed.

Sam didn't even bother to grab a bite, hurrying instead to set up his computer and log in to the internet so that he could begin to look into the presence that had revealed itself up on the monument. The thing had given him a nasty scare; he'd watched it seem to stake a claim on his brother. Dean was his; Dean had always been his, and he wasn't going to give up his ownership for any ghost. Settling in to find out what he could, he logged into the local library and began to key in his queries.

It was over an hour before he looked up. "Dude, I think I've got something."

Dean had dug out the food, setting some by Sam the way he used to when they were kids. Sam would sit at the table, doing his homework, while Dean made sandwiches for dinner, and would set them by Sam as he worked. He sat himself down on the bed and began to read the brochures Sam had tossed aside for his computer. He paused in the act of circling a section and looked up at Sam. "What'ya got?"

"It says here that your Angela Smith woman was last seen on the evening of November 30th of 1935, just after George Washington's head was unveiled. She was heard screaming at her husband as she stormed away from him while they were visiting the sculpture, and the husband later told people that she'd stolen a horse and disappeared." Sam leaned forward. "It could be her. The husband told everyone she'd left and gone east, but there was never any confirmation of that."

"Okay, so maybe he wasn't as truthful as he reported. I wouldn't doubt he tossed her off. Which means ..." Dean groaned, "We're gonna have to find a way to get down that mountain if her remains are there." He rubbed at his face. "This sucks."

"Dude, if she's buried somewhere up there, how the hell are we going to find her?" Sam pushed his computer back and looked around vaguely, finally spying the plate of sandwiches and fruit that Dean had set beside him. Picking up a sandwich, he went to take a bite and then put it down again, untouched. "I don't think you should go up to the top again, dude. She wanted you."

Dean was thinking, finishing off his own sandwich. He was silent for a long while before he spoke, "I think we have no choice." He looked at Sam. "I think we're gonna have to get her to tell us what happened, where her body is, and ... if she wants me, then I have to be the bait. Maybe I can get her to show me where she is." He shot a serious look at his brother.

There was sheer, cold panic flooding Sam's belly at Dean's words. He drew in a deep breath, afraid to speak for fear of what he might give away. Finally he bit his lip and nodded. "You die, dude, and I'll follow you and haunt you for eternity."

"I'm already dying. Start haunting my ass now." Dean shifted uneasily as he noted the lack of color in his brother's skin and realized that it was driven by panic. "I'll be fine. I'll stay away from the edge. Dude, stop worrying." He bumped his leg up against Sam's. "Now eat, will you. Besides, you'll be there to make sure nothing happens to me."

"You bet your ass," growled Sam, glaring at his brother as if willing him to admit what Sam already knew, that Dean belonged to him, body and soul. "So how are you going to find out where she's buried? She'd better be somewhere on the mountain. There's a whole lot of wilderness out there, and we might never find her if she's out in the forest."

"I'll talk to her. It's all I can do." Dean shrugged as he looked at his brother. "Now eat, will ya. We'll worry about it tomorrow." He rose to his feet and went over to his bed to flop down onto it and clasp his hands behind his head.

Reaching for the sandwich again, Sam munched on it absently as he turned back to the computer. "Dean...?" He wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say to his brother, only that he had a lump in his throat and a pain in his chest where his heart was threatening to break free of its moorings and push straight through his ribs. Frowning, he took another bite of sandwich and concentrated on thinking about things he could have instead of pining for his brother. "Never mind," he said, finally. "It was nothing. Guess I need to call Ashley."

Dean had lifted his head from the pillow he was lounging against, waiting for Sam to say something. He could see that his brother's face was twisted with unasked questions, and he wondered what had been burning on the tip of Sam's tongue. He hoped it might have been to do with why Dean had kissed him the other night, or maybe to question why Dean was so willing to die for him and why he wasn't fighting back. It could be any or all of those things, and Dean thought that he was ready to answer, but then Sam had taken the wind out of his sails with his 'never mind' and changing the subject. Dean frowned a little but nodded, "Yeah, maybe you should. You can't let a hot girl like that go, dude. Damn, I know, if you hadn't banged her, I would have gone for her in a heartbeat. She is a smokin' chick."

"She is, yeah," said Sam, wishing that he dared go over to his brother and take hold of him, kiss him. He shook his head. "But it isn't about how hot she is, man. She's genuinely sweet, and in a way I feel bad for doing what I did and then running. She understood, but I still feel bad about it. I feel like a heel." He pulled out his phone and dialed her number, sitting back in his chair as he waited for her to pick up.

"I guess that's because you're a gentleman, Sam. A big, freaky, touchy-feely gentleman." Dean closed his eyes as he folded his arms under the pillow. "It's kind of cute." He gave a chuckle.

Meanwhile, while Sam's phone buzzed in his ear, awaiting an answer, Ashley was rolling over on her bed to reach for her phone, lifting it to her ear as she depressed the answer button, "Hello?" she said, soft voiced.

"Hey." Sam was suddenly tongue-tied. Here he was, desiring his brother carnally, talking to the girl he'd fucked and left. "It's Sam," he murmured. "How're you doing?"

"Sam," Ashley murmured his name breathily, telling him how much she missed him. "I'm good," she said. She could tell he wasn't happy - something in his voice gave it away. He wasn't relaxed the way he had been earlier; he sounded anxious. "What's wrong, Sam?"

"Nothing, baby, not really." Sam smiled, tense but willing the smile to sound in his voice. "It's just a bit of a strain, because of what's going to happen to Dean. That's all old news though, isn't it? Tell me how things are going with you. What are you up to these days? Still no dream demon, I hope?"

"Just pleasant dreams of you," Ashley answered honestly. She was worried about him. She knew how close the brothers were, and wondered if something had happened or maybe if something hadn't. She couldn't predict what Dean was likely to do, or what was going to happen to him, and yet she knew it would upset Sam greatly if anything happened to his brother. "Sam, what's Dean going to do?"

"He's gonna go stand on top of Mount Rushmore and invite a restless, vengeful spirit that's known to throw people to their deaths to tell him where she's buried. Then of course, he's going to go to the crossroads and give himself up to hell without even fighting back. That ought to do for now, don't you think?" Sam's voice had become bitter, and he caught himself, trying to stop the misery creeping into his voice. "Baby, I don't know how to stop him. I can't stop him."

Dean shot Sam a look from across the room, "I'm still in the room and can hear just fine," he complained, his voice half hurt and half angry.

Realizing that she'd just witnessed exactly what was bothering Sam, Ashley sighed. "Sam, Dean loves you. I know he does. But you two are doing your job, and he'd rather put himself in harm's way than you; he always has. You have to understand that. I know you don't like it but think of it from his point of view. What would you do if things were the other way around?"

"He won't let me do it the other way round. He won't let me protect him." Sam glared over at his brother. "He thinks he can do all this for me, but I'm not allowed to reciprocate." He shrugged his shoulders. "His way or the highway, the big freak!" He rose to his feet and began to pace. "There was a ghost at Mount Rushmore. I saw it grab hold of Dean, and it threw another man off the top."

"You have to be careful, Sam. And, baby, you're doing what you can to save him. That's the biggest way to reciprocate that there is. And, well, push back. If he gives you no choice, don't give him any." She sat up pushing her hair back gazing into space. She had a feeling Sam was pacing.

Dean just stuck his tongue out at Sam.

"I'm trying to push back, babe. I guess I'm just not as good at it as I ought to be." Sam sat down on his bed and flopped back against it. "I wish things weren't so complicated. Is it hot down in New Orleans? There's snow on the ground here. It seems weird that a week ago I was sweltering in heat, and now here I am up to my ankles in dirty snow."

"It was hot but now it's a bit cooler. Down into the seventies. It's cooler at night now, too, but that won't last long." Her voice was soft as she rolled to lie on her stomach and kick her legs into the air. "It'll get warm again soon enough." She paused. "Do you know that I've never seen snow? You should send me some pictures." She smiled softly, hoping he would hear it in her voice.

"I wish I could bring you here and roll you over in it," laughed Sam, suddenly feeling a little better at the thought. "You and I could have fun tying Dean up and sitting on him." He smirked over at his brother. "You like that? He's well padded, so it's very comfortable."

Ashley giggled. "Oh, I'm sure he'd like that, Sam." She could picture that brute of a brother struggling, grinning from ear to ear as he did so.

Dean flipped Sam off, "Not even on your best day, college boy."

"He's telling me that we couldn't do it. I'm thinking he's wrong. What do you think, baby?" Sam was laughing hard now, surveying his indolently lounging brother. He knew how it felt to wrestle with Dean, hard body to hard body. He knew, and the thought made him shiver as he felt himself grow hard. "Although I'd rather wrestle with you," he added hastily, hoping that Dean would attribute his evident bulge to thoughts of Ashley.

Dean gave Sam a sideways glance but looked away quickly, unable to take the happiness he thought he saw in his brother because of the girl he was talking to. It was strange. He hadn't minded the two of them together a week ago, but now, after kissing him, he felt sick with jealousy of Ashley. He rolled onto his side, pretending to be tired. He wasn't sure how much longer he could take being with Sam and yet unable to touch him the way he wanted.

Ashley giggled, "I think we can take him. He's a big softy when it comes to you, Sam, and I'd much rather roll around with you." She paused, and then giggled again. "Though I wonder exactly how much rolling we'd actually do." Sinking back down into the covers, she remembered the single night they'd shared. "Sam," she said softly. "You need to save your brother. You need him and he needs you even more. You'd both be empty shells without the other. You can do it though. You can save him."

"I have to save him, Ashley. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if he dies for me." Sam's face clouded over, and he couldn't take his eyes off his brother. Dean was lying with his back to Sam, and Sam could tell that he wasn't sleeping from the little jerk of his shoulders at his words to Ashley "I feel like my life is on hold until I find a way to get him out of that deal he made." He paused. "I promise you that I'll come back for you, if you're still available once he's safe."

Ashley hugged her pillow, wanting it to be Sam. She wished there was something she could do to help him. "Sam, I wish I could help. But," she paused. "I'll wait for you, however long it takes." She felt tears prick at her eyes. "But I have faith in you that you will find a way. I know you will."

"How can you help, baby?" Sam winced at the thought of her in danger all over again. "You'd be at risk from the demons that are all over the place now." He shook his head and rose to his feet, heading out of the door and out of Dean's earshot. "Do you know what I need to do? There's a crystal. I have to find this crystal, according to the paper I found in the jacket, but it doesn't tell me where the damned crystal is. Missouri told me I need to see a shaman."

"There are demons everywhere. One attacked me, before I even met you, Sam." She sat up in her bed. "I know it's dangerous, but I'll still do whatever it takes to help you. Sam, I know how you feel about your brother. I've always known. I saw into your dreams, remember?." And Dean as well. She knew since she dream walked into Sam's life. She seen how connected their souls were. "Sam, you and Dean, one can't live without the other. I know that, but just know, I care for you both as well. I'll do some research and ask around. I'll go see our voodoo friend. I'll call you with anything I find out. I love you, Sam."

"I... You do?" Sam sounded shocked. "Don't. Don't love me. People that love me get killed in hideous ways." He took a deep breath. "Ashley, you're a beautiful girl, and if I didn't have to do this I'd have stayed with you, but I love that you understand. I love that you don't hate me for messing with you , and I promise that I'll do my best to come back to New Orleans as soon as I can."

"It's all I can hope for, Sam. I'll pray for you and call you if I find anything." She wished she could hug him. Wished that she could kiss him. "Go back to Dean, Sam. And be sure you buy him some fresh made cookies." She smiled a little. "Sleep tight, baby."

Dean was staring at the wall. He had heard Sam walk out and he was glad Sam wasn't inside where he could hear him. He wanted to yell at his brother. Tell him to just not try any more. Let him die. He was ready for it.

Returning to the room, Sam studied his brother. "I know you're awake," he murmured, sitting on the edge of Dean's bed. "I know that you don't want me to do this, but I'm not going to rest until I find a way, Dean. I can't let you go."

He laid his hand on Dean's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You're my brother, and all I have. Ain't gonna let you go."

"Just let me go, Sam. Just, enjoy me while you have me and let me go. I'm tired and I'm not gonna risk losing you. Just please, Sam." Dean didn't move. More scared to. If he turned to see his brother another one of those moments would happen and Sam already was uncomfortable enough. No. It would have to wait. They were gonna have a wonderful Christmas. He hoped.

"Ain't gonna happen, dude. Get used to it." Sam patted Dean's shoulder and then rose to his feet. "So, are you hungry again yet, or what? We can't really go back to the monument this evening. It'll be closed up. Best to head in tomorrow morning bright and early. Do you have any idea how you're gonna approach her?" He flicked on the television as he passed it on the way to his bed, sprawling back to flick through the channels. "I've got no idea what's on around here. You got any clues?"

"No," Dean still didn't move. he then rolled over. "I figured I would just talk, like she really was there. Best thing right? Treat them like they're really there? So they can be heard?" He sat up, looking to his brother. "How’s Ashley doing?" Dean had to ask so the subject would move on and leave him alone.

"She's good. She said it was cold, because the temperature had dropped to 70 degrees." Sam smiled. "She told me to buy you some cookies. What a woman, eh? She's definitely got your number." He sat forward as a thought occurred to him. "You know, ghosts can only harm those that are spiritually drained, Dean. You have to recharge. You have to stop with the negativity and believe in yourself, dude."

"Believe in myself? Dude, how can she drain what’s already been taken from me? Promised to another? I have nothing to lose. And I'm not gonna drink mumbo jumbo tea and chant. I'm gonna be, fine, stop worrying. Now we know she was abandoned by her husband. Maybe she’s looking for ... love? Something?" He shrugged.

Sam wanted to slap him; wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled, and make him believe in himself again. Instead he nodded. "Yeah. Of course! Offer yourself and of course she'll believe it, because she hasn't been tossing guys who played her false off the top of the mountain for the past fifty or so years. Dude, give me a break!" Sighing, he gave Dean his best bitchface. "You want to go before your year is up, or what?"

Dean just looked at Sam, "What do you want me to do then? Tell me and I'll do it. Dude, I know what I'm doing. Been hunting a lot longer than you, college boy." Dean flopped back upon his bed. "And she's right, Ashley, you need to get me some cookies."

Laughing, Sam threw his pillow at Dean. "Listen, bro, I'll make you a deal. I'll get you cookies if you remember the other things that make life worth living and stop being so defeated. Unquiet spirits latch onto negativity, and they use it as a focus. Remember your car. You gonna leave her to me? If you just die, I tell you, Dean, I'll take a crowbar to her. She won't ever belong to anyone else but you."

"After all that work I put into that car!" Dean bolted up right and glared at his brother. "That car has been in our family forever. Dad had it. He gave it to me and now she'll be yours and you'll just bash her up? You bitch." Dean grumbled. "I'm giving her to Bobby. Til then you are so not driving her. You're gonna be my bitch navigator." Dean pointed his finger at his brother.

"Doesn't matter where you give it, dude. I'mma get it and smash it up." Sam scowled ferociously in an attempt to prove to Dean just how serious he was. "Gonna set fire to her, send her over a cliff. Nobody else can ever drive her again, if you leave her, dude, so think about that. Maybe you wouldn't stay for me, but you'll stay for your car."

"That is so not fair." Dean snapped. "I'm here with you now. I'm gonna stay with you ‘til my time comes. And ‘til then, we'll fight these bastards out there, in my car and you will too, after I'm gone. How you gonna get back to Ashley, huh? Hike?"

"Whatever!" Sam turned away to lie face down on the bed, feeling his eyes start to smart with the tears he didn't want to shed. He didn't want to get back to Ashley if it meant that Dean was gone. He'd gotten a gun, and one bullet would be enough. If push came to shove, he wouldn't be afraid to follow his brother, even if he had to follow him into hell. "You'll see, and then you'll know what I'm saying."

Dean grabbed the pillow that Sam had thrown at him. He got up and hit him with it. "Bitch!"

He hit him with it again.

"Jerk!" smirked Sam, lovingly.

The morning threatened snow. There was an icy wind blowing, lifting the ice crystals from the ground and driving them into any skin that was exposed. Sam rolled out of bed when Dean threatened to dump a bowl of water over him and scowled at his brother. "Dude, you have any idea just how good a dream I was having?"

"No and I don't wanna know," Dean had been up for hours, had even left, picked up some things, then got some coffee and donuts for them. "We need to get going though cause there's a forecast of some heavy snow coming in and I personally don't feel like getting snowed in. So shake that ass and get dressed. I got you coffee." He was taking a bite of a donut.

"You're all heart." Sam stumbled into the bathroom to begin his day.

It wasn't long before the two of them were in the car, heading back to the mountain, and Sam huddled in the car, sipping his coffee, as Dean cranked up the volume and sang along with a selection of Metallica songs, apparently in good humor. The sky was leaden, and the wind had dropped, making the deserted area around the monument feel eerily as if they were the only people left on earth. Hopping out of the car together, they made their way to the security fence they'd climbed the previous day.

Sam had brought a pistol loaded with rock salt, and he checked it again before thrusting it into the back of his jeans, ready for the climb. "Let's do it and go," he murmured as he followed Dean over the fence.

Dean tracked up the stairs, the mountain closed for the winter it seemed, but opened on good days. This storm was catching everyone off guard. Dean, however was more worried about other things. How to kill or stop this ghost. As he tracked up, he reached the top of the mountain and wondered out, just looking about. The snow danced around him and it made the place look like it wasn't real.

He turned his head, gazing about then looked back to Sam, shrugging. "What was her name again?" He asked his brother.

"Angela," murmured Sam. "Angela Smith. She was married to a dude named Roderick." He clambered out of the stairwell and stood beside his brother, taking in the way Dean looked with the flakes of snow in his hair, the sparkle in his eyes put there by his intent to perform some daredevilry. "You love danger, don't you, man? You're an adrenalin junkie."

"No, Sammy," Dean hit his brother upon the arm, "Just love the hunt." He was smiling and moved away from his brother, looking around. He kicked at a rock then turned. "Don't see her huh? Well, let's see if she'll respond." He turned, facing out, and shouted, "Angela!?" He waited a moment. "C'mon ..." He wanted to say bitch but corrected himself, "Baby, come talk to me. I'm right here." He spread his arms.

At that moment, Dean felt the wind pick up a little. The snow danced around him like something out of a movie and he heard a whisper tickle his ear. "Love me." Angela reached out and brushed her hand against Dean's back, which caused him to shiver.

Watching his brother, Sam saw no sign of the ghost, but he did see a shudder run through his brother and bit his lip, terrified that the thing would toss him down to his death before he could do anything to prevent it.

He readied his pistol and stood gazing at Dean. When Angela finally began to materialize, he drew in his breath in a loud gasp. She was beautiful - tall and red haired, with a pair of mournful dark eyes that shone despite the gloom of the day. Every inch of him screamed that he should shoot her with the rock salt, but he remained unmoving. Dissipating her presence would solve nothing, so he stood waiting to see what Dean would do, and he prayed for his brother's safety.

Dean wasn't nearly as surprised at the beauty of the woman when he turned to face her. He looked her over. "Angela," He nodded in looking at her. He pushed his hand into his pocket, feeling some salt in it. He had to speak carefully, "You deserve to be loved. And ... I would like to but ... you need to tell me where you are first."

"Here. I am here." She reached out a pale hand with long, tapered fingers and touched Dean's cheek. "I have been here for a long time."

Behind her, Sam flinched at the touch and dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand in his effort to keep calm, desperate to make sure that his brother would be safe.

Dean gasped at the touch, feeling a strange warmth wash through him. He gazed at her, "I know. I'm here to help you. Help you move on." He moved in closer to her, drawn by the look in her eyes. "Angela, you're dead. You have been for a while. And the longer you're here, the more angry you'll become. Please, I can help you move on, but you have to tell me where your body is. You deserve to rest."

"I want you to love me." The ghost's face hardened, bruises appearing around her neck. "Why won't you love me?" For a moment, she shimmered, and then she changed; her tongue protruded, purple and swollen, and her pretty eyes glazed over as her head lolled. "You're handsome. Better looking than the other," she cooed, her dead eyes turning to study Sam.

Dean moved into her view, keeping her from looking at his brother. "I do love you." It was a lie. There was no one he loved more than his brother, other than his father or his mother. Besides them, Dean didn't think he could ever love anyone. Ever. "Look at me," he moved closer, "Where are you? That way we can be together."

"You love me?" Her face brightened, whole again, and she smiled. "It's easy. Come to the edge with me and jump." She caught hold of Dean's hand. "I'm down there in the shadows. He left me there." Tugging on Dean's hand, she moved towards the edge of Washington's head.

"Dean, no!" Sam felt sour acid rise in his throat as he saw Dean tugged toward the drop. "Don't let her..."

Dean stumbled forward a bit but dug his heels in. "Sam, get the rope!" he shouted to his brother as he turned his attention to Angela. "I'm gonna go down there and help you up, baby," he whispered. "Sam?" He shouted to him without looking back. "We're gonna be together." Dean was good at lying, most of the time.

Sam fished in his backpack, drawing out the rope he'd brought with him. "Dean," he yelled as the wind rose around him. He tossed a coil of the rope to Dean and turned to fasten the other end to one of the metal handles that had been sunk into the rock to aid those who wanted to climb to the top of the monument. Heart in his mouth, he watched his brother stumble closer to the edge. "Oh, god, Dean!"

Dean turned and caught the rope with one hand, curling it around his arm even as he slipped over the edge of the rock. He looked back to Sam then started to climb down. He was doing his best to be careful; as he reached the ledge that was hidden partway down the monument a swift look around revealed a pile of bones. It was here! He drew a breath and looked up to his brother. "Sam, I found her."
Hearing Dean call, Sam was quick to follow him down, knowing that his brother would need the can of gasoline he carried in his backpack. Setting foot on the ledge at last, he looked up at the monument. "She must have been thrown off the rock by her husband. Why else would he lie about her and say she'd run away?"

"Love me?" The words were a shriek now. Angela's ghost materialized between the two of them, reaching for Dean as she cried out.

Reaching for Sam, Dean quickly moved him out of the way, fearing for his brother's safety. "Salt and burn her bones, dude, I'll keep her busy." He turned towards Angela. "Hey, baby girl, I told you, I love you." Holding his arms out to the spirit, he smiled.

She flowed over him, curling around him like so much smoke; Sam took one look at that and began to sprinkle her bones with the salt, followed by the gasoline that would lay her to rest. He didn't dare look at what was happening behind him, and his heart began pounding wildly in his chest as he raced to set her bones on fire.

He thought he heard Dean moan and gritted his teeth as he tossed a flaming matchbook down onto his handiwork. "He's mine, bitch," he growled softly. "You don't get him."

Angela wrapped around Dean, caressing him everywhere she could. She felt warm and cold at the same time, and it felt as if there were hands all over Dean, touching him in all the right places. He closed his eyes, hearing her voice against his ear. "Love," she breathed, petting him, hands over his chest. Dean let out a moan as his head tipped back and swallowed hard.

Dean wobbled, suddenly feeling his energy draining as she tried to draw it from him. She turned her head and screamed as her body was set afire and the flames began to devour her. "Noooo, you love..." she cried out, and flames danced around Dean too.

"No, bitch, there's only one person I love." He spoke only loud enough for her to hear and turned back to Sam. The flames licked at him for a moment before vanishing, leaving Dean in a wash of snow and smoke. Dean dropped to his knees, drained. He felt hands upon him again, and he looked up, seeing Sam as his brother reached to hold him. He was speaking, but Dean couldn't quite hear the words. He reached up and touched Sam's cheek.

Sam had turned his back to the burning bones, no longer worried about Angela hurting his brother, but Dean's pale, drained face sent a ripple of fear through him. "Dean?" he whispered. "Dean? What did that thing do to you? Are you okay?"

Bending, Sam put his arms around Dean's shoulders and lifted him back to his feet, sensing the other man's lack of energy. "Come on, dude. We have to get you down from here, and that means going back up the rope. Think you can make it, or do you want me to haul you up?"

"I can make it," Dean's chest heaved as he felt his strength slowly returning. "Bitch tried to drain me." He wished the tender moment with his brother would last longer, but that wasn't going to happen, and it tore Dean up inside. He couldn't expect his brother to feel the same way he did. He sighed, grabbed hold of the rope and started climbing, hauling himself up til he reached the top, exhausted, hands sore and red. He turned to watch Sam clamber up after him, extending his hand to help haul him up over the edge before rolling over to his back in the snow as it drifted softly over him. "I think I'm getting too old for this."

"You? Never," said Sam, smiling fondly as he parked his butt beside Dean. "Dude, you sure you're okay? You scared me back there. I thought she was gonna get you before I could set the fire." He reached out to run his hand through Dean's hair, wishing he could show Dean just how much he loved him. "We need to get you back to the ranch and into a hot bath and then feed you a good breakfast." He paused, fingers withdrawing reluctantly. "You okay to get down the stairs?"

Dean looked up at Sam, feeling a sudden urge to surge up and kiss his brother again. Sam was pulling his hand away, but Dean could see that there was something there in his eyes. God, this on and off thing was driving him nuts. He pushed himself up to his feet. "Yeah, I think I can. Dude, let's not do this again. We got to see Mount Rushmore close up and personal, but that's plenty for me." He slammed Sam's arm. "Biggest hard head next to yours." Laughing, he started toward the stairs.

Sam watched him go before climbing back to his feet and collecting the rope to stow back into his backpack. Sighing, he followed Dean down, relieved beyond all measure that his snarky brother was still safe.

Back in the car, they breathed a sigh of relief, and Dean cranked up both the heating and the music as he headed back away from the monument. "Jeez, I'm glad that's over," murmured Sam, sitting on his hands to prevent himself from grabbing his brother to hold him tight. He shook his head. "She really wanted you, eh?"

"Yeah, well who doesn't?" He smiled and slapped his hand on Sam's leg. "It's over. Nice hot shower. Food in the belly, I'll be happy." Dean nodded as he drove down the road. One of these days he would no longer have to worry about Sammy and his emo shit. All he had to do was to get Sam stronger. Ashley was going to have Sam. Dean needed Sam to be happy, and that was the only thing that mattered. He decided right then that this was was how things were going to be.

"Happy, yeah," said Sam, smiling at his brother in answer. "I'm gonna be happy when I've got you safely locked up out of danger for a change."

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