Thank you so much KToon for beta'ing this for me and Themegalosaurus for doing the final edits. Thank you Ncsupnatfan and VegasGranny for being there each step of the way. They answered random questions, they supported and encouraged, and they gave great feedback for each chapter that made editing a breeze.

This is my entry for the Gencest Bang. If you're not sure what Gencest is—I didn't know until I heard about this bang—it's described as a 'mashup of Gen and Wincest, it describes stories where there is no sexual or romantic relationship between Dean and Sam, but the story will focus on their intense emotional bond. So, basically, Wincest without the romance or sex, but all the psychotic, irrational, erotic codependency.' Just to be clear: There is NO SLASH in this story. It's purely about the platonic brother bond we have in the show.

That is what I have tried to deliver in this story—the brother bond I love—and I hope some of you will enjoy it with me.

Chapter One

Dean turned another page of the book and stared down at the pages of small type, wondering if this was going to have any more insight into their problem than the dozen he'd already read. They had found nothing helpful at all so far. Everything the Men of Letters had written about were things they'd already learned from being around angels as long as they had. Dean was starting to think it was a waste of time searching the library at all. If there was a way to get an archangel out of a vessel, they'd have known it already.

"Hey, I've got something," Sam said, coming into the library with his laptop in his hands.

"For Cas?" Dean asked hopefully.

Sam set the laptop down on the book in front of Dean and said, "No, it's a hunt."

Dean picked up the laptop and set it down away from him. "Let someone else take it," he said dismissively. "We've got bigger problems. Like Cas being ridden by Satan."

Sam's brows pinched together. "I know that's a big problem, but…"

Dean sighed. "I get it, Sam, you're pissed. I'm pissed, too. He crapped all over what you did putting Lucifer away by letting him out again, but it's still Cas, he's family. We have to help him."

Dean did understand how Sam felt. When he thought of what Sam had been forced to do, what it had cost him, he wanted to rant and rave at Castiel, too, and he would when he got him back, but they had to get Lucifer out of him first.

"I know it's Cas," Sam said, the words bitten off.

"He made a mistake," Dean stated, but Sam spoke over him.

"And so did I? I've not forgotten, Dean. I know Lucifer is only a problem now because of me."

"That's not what I mean. Cas had his reasons. He obviously thought he was doing the right thing when he let him out."

"Sounds familiar," Sam said, his fingers drumming on his leg. "That's not what this is about. This is about saving lives. I think we'd be making another mistake to skip this hunt. People are dying. And we both need this. We've been searching this stuff for weeks, finding nothing, and we're fried. We need to stop and breathe for a while. Let's do that while saving lives and come back to it when we've got clear heads. We can regroup and start again."

Dean knew he was right. They were probably missing things in their research from the fact they'd been staring at the same information in different form for weeks, and besides, they couldn't leave people to die. They could have gotten another hunter on it just as easily, too, but Dean didn't trust anyone as much as he did himself and Sam. They would get the job done.

He folded the corner of the page and slammed the book closed. Sam looked faintly scandalized at what he would think of as criminal damage to one of the precious books, but when Dean said, "Okay, tell me what you've got," he brightened and turned the laptop to show Dean the missing person's report he'd opened on the browser.

"Hikers are going missing in Idaho. It didn't get my attention till this showed up though."

He opened a new window and Dean saw a crime scene picture Sam had obviously hacked from a PD showing a man with gashes over his body and a ragged hole over his heart. He couldn't tell whether the heart was missing, but he was pretty sure he knew what it was.

"Werewolf," Sam said triumphantly.

"We haven't taken one of those since Kate and her sister." Dean said. "We're due one."

Sam's lips pressed into a thin line, perhaps bothered by Dean's easy reference to the girl that had been forced to kill her own sister. They'd both been in that position and had made different choices.

"I don't think it's Kate," he said. "I know she couldn't make any promises, but she's strong. I think it's someone new."

"Okay, I'll get my stuff," Dean said. "Meet you at the car."

Sam snapped the laptop closed and gave him a more genuine smile than he'd seen for weeks.

Dean started towards his bedroom, mulling over the idea of killing a werewolf and how it could be a good release after all the research, only to come to a dead stop when he heard Sam's cautious voice.

"Billie?"

Dean spun and saw the reaper standing by the table he'd just vacated. She trialed her fingers over the books still spread out over the table and said, "You look busy."

Dean glowered at her. She was the one that was planning to stuff him and Sam in The Empty when they died, and according to Sam, she was pretty excited about it. She had helped him get into Hell to save Sam but he knew they couldn't trust her. She definitely wasn't an ally.

"What do you want?" he asked truculently.

She raised an eyebrow. "I admire that in you, Dean. Not many people face off with me like that. Death had no patience for it, but I see it for what it is. You are scared, but you're fighting through it."

"I'm not scared of you," Dean said. "Your old boss, sure, Death was scary, but you've got nothing on him. I know you're planning to stick us some place ugly when we die, but we're not dead yet so you're pretty much powerless."

"I could kill you," she said.

"You won't," Sam said confidently. "You like the rules. You can't reap us before our time."

He saw a flicker of annoyance cross her face and knew Sam was right. She would probably like to kill them, maybe she even craved it, but she wouldn't be the one to do it.

"What do you want?" Dean asked.

"I have a case for you."

"We've already got one," Sam said.

"Mine is more important."

Dean scoffed. Of course she would think so, but Dean thought that a werewolf killing hikers was more pressing than whatever issues she had. She could fix her own messes.

"What is your case?" Sam asked.

Dean rolled his eyes. Sam had brought them this hunt—he'd been so eager for it, even—but now he was asking her as if they were going to actually take it.

Billie winked at Dean and turned her attention to Sam. "People are dying and not getting to Heaven or Hell."

"Are they going to The Empty?" Sam asked, a shadow of fear crossing his face.

"No, they're ending up in the other place I have no control over."

Sam frowned. "What's that?"

Dean was confused, too. He only knew of Heaven, Hell and Purgatory before Billie had shown up threatening them with The Empty.

"It's the Underworld."

"Awesome," Dean muttered. "Sounds like a great vacation spot."

"It's not," Billie said.

"I didn't know it was real," Sam said.

"What you don't know could fill books," Billie said, a cruel glint in her eyes. "It's real, and as your brother so loquaciously pointed out, it's not a nice place. It's a whole new hell to the one you've visited. And people are being dragged there against the rules."

"What's doing it?" Dean asked.

She considered a moment and then redirected. "The reapers sent to take the marked souls are being attacked and trapped. I need you two to stop it."

"Why can't you?" Dean asked. "If we're so useless, if we know nothing, why send us to fix your big problem?"

"Because I don't want to end up like them. I have a job to do."

Dean huffed a laugh. "I'll make time to care about that another day. I've got a friend trapped in Lucifer, The Darkness running free, and a werewolf in Idaho that's snatching hikers."

Billie's eyes hardened. "People are being sent to a kind of Hell that they don't deserve. I know you can't ignore that. And I am not offering you nothing for it. You both have a history of failure, everyone knows that, but you also have successes stacked to your name, too. I am putting this on you as I believe you can handle it. But if you're too scared…"

"We're not scared," Dean said.

"That's good. Most people would be."

"What are you offering us if we do it?" Sam asked.

"A favor. As your brother said, you're facing a lot right now. A favor from me is worth something. I always deliver. Tell me you couldn't use a little help right now. The Darkness is out there, as you say."

"Will you still send us to The Empty?" Sam asked.

"Yes, rule are rules, but I might be able to help you with The Darkness."

She drew a scrap of paper from her pocket and said, "The deaths are located in Greenville, Illinois. This is the next person due to be reaped. Her name is Melinda. See if you can save her."

"We haven't said we'll do it yet!" Dean snapped, but it was too late. She'd disappeared already. "Dammit!"

Sam picked up the piece of paper and examined it. "What do you think?"

"I think she's a bitch."

"Me too, but what about these people?" When Dean looked incredulously at him, he went on. "I don't want to do anything for her either, but these people are going to some kind of hell and we might be able to stop it. We both know what Hell is like. If the Underworld is worse…"

"What about the werewolves?"

"We can put Rudy on it. He's good with werewolves." He sighed. "I don't trust anyone to take care of this as well as I do us. And we could do with all the help on Amara we can get. Billie has power behind her."

Dean ran his fingers through his hair. "Fine. Let's do it. You call Rudy and I'll get our bags."

He walked away, hating the feeling of the puppet strings he knew were in his hands. Billie was the one pulling them, and he already hated her before that fact, but he didn't trust anyone as much as he did himself and Sam, either. If they could save people ending up in the same kind of place he and Sam had been, it was worth the feeling.

Dean opened the door to their room in the Shamrock Inn and groaned. The dominant color in the room was green and gold. There were lucky shamrocks on the wallpaper and the lamps beside the beds were shaped like pots of gold with yellow shades patterned with golden coins. There was even a porcelain leprechaun on the table, which Dean picked up and stowed under Sam's bed as he set down his bag and looked around.

"It's not that bad," Sam said.

Dean's mouth dropped open. "It's like Saints Patrick's day puked in here. It's exactly that bad."

"We can see if they have another room free."

"I think this is going to be a theme in all the rooms in the Shamrock Inn."

Sam shrugged. "Then we better get this case solved quick so I can get out of here."

"You think? If we stay one more night in here, I'm going to pick up an accent."

Sam laughed. "I'd kinda like to see that." He began to unload his laptop from his bag and said, as if it made their situation any better, "It's clean."

"I can handle a bit of dirt," Dean said, averting his eyes from the lamp. "It's the migraine inducing wallpaper that's getting to me."

Sam set his laptop down on the table and then went back to his bag. "How are we going to handle this?"

"No idea," Dean said. "I guess we get in and out quick and try to avoid picking up a taste for Guinness."

"I meant the case," Sam said patiently. "I don't think we can do it as feds. We have no idea what landed this Melinda in the hospital. It could be something natural. I didn't find anything about her online when I checked on the drive over."

Dean understood the dilemma. They usually got more information and freedom when people saw the suits and badges. If it was a natural death that was coming for Melinda, they could go as family and hope there weren't already any there that would expose them as fake, but that was risky, too.

"We'll go as visitors and keep it vague," Dean said. "When we see her, we can get a gauge on who she is and go from there."

Sam nodded and pulled a clean shirt out of his bag and said, "I'll just get changed."

Dean grinned wolfishly. "There's no need to dress up, Sammy. We're not going in to find you a date. Besides, she's probably going to be unconscious."

Sam pulled a balled-up pair of socks out of his bag and threw them at Dean's face. He caught them and threw them back; they landed neatly in the open mouth of the bag.

"I'm changing, as I feel funky after an eight-hour drive. You could do the same."

Dean sniffed his shirt. "It's clean."

Sam rolled his eyes and pulled on the fresh shirt. He buttoned it and said, "Let's go."

Dean pulled his gun from his bag and tucked it into his jacket, then considered a moment before adding a knife, too. Sam nodded and did the same, then went to the door and opened it. Dean tied his bag shut in case they got late housekeeping that noticed the wealth of weapons he carried and followed Sam out, glad to get out of the novelty themed room.

They got in the car and Sam pulled out his phone. "Okay, the Holy Family Hospital is on Route 140. It's how we—"

"Got into town," Dean said impatiently. "I know, Sam. I pay attention to more than the music when I'm driving."

"Then you'll be able to find it without knowing which direction it's in," Sam said.

"I will," Dean said.

He pulled them out of the parking lot and got onto the road out of town. He came to an intersection and wavered between directions for a moment before turning right. His confidence was rewarded when the saw a blue sign advertising emergency medical care. He figured a place as small as Greenville would only have one hospital.

"See," he said. "I do know my way."

"Yes, you do," Sam agreed with an air of rewarding a child an accomplishment.

Dean grinned. He was feeling good about the atmosphere. He'd worried Sam would be dragged down by what they were doing—the connotations of this Underworld with the hell he'd been in—but he seemed good. He hated that they were doing this for Billie, that they weren't here to actually save lives since the reaper was going to take them even if they stopped the monster from stealing them to the Underworld, but they were saving them from something worse. He figured someone with a name like Melinda would be a good person, she'd surely have a ticket upstairs, though he knew not everyone matched their name. Who knew someone called Ruby—an innocent name that would fit a beloved pet—could be the evil bitch that brought about the apocalypse with her manipulations?

When Dean spotted the hospital, he pulled into the lot and found them a place. Sam tucked his phone into his pocket and climbed out of the car. He waited for Dean and they walked to the entrance together.

"You can do the talking," Dean said.

"You feeling shy?" Sam teased.

"No, but this isn't our usual cover. You have an innocent face, and you can do that whole puppy face thing that makes people all mushy. I look like a serial killer when I try it."

Sam laughed. "You don't give yourself credit. You can look just as mushy as me when you try."

"Why would I want to try?" Dean asked.

"For situations like… Never mind. I'll do it."

Dean fell into step beside him as they walked through the automatic doors and to the reception. Sam greeted the middle-aged woman seated behind the desk and smiled ingratiatingly. "Hi there. I wonder if you can help us…"

The woman seemed to sag as she caught sight of Sam's face and her hands fluttered over the computer keyboard. "I'll try," she said.

"We want to visit Melinda Parker," Sam said. "But we don't know where to find her."

The woman batted her eyelashes and Dean swallowed a laugh. Apparently, she was the rarity that went from mush to enticed by Sam's compassion.

"I'll check for you," she told him. Her fingers danced over the keys and she said, "Parker… Parker… Yes. I have her. She's on the nephrology unit. Take the elevator to the second floor and go right. You'll see signs."

"Thank you," Sam said, flashing her his dimples. Dean was pretty sure her pupils dilated.

"You're very welcome," she said. "If there's anything else you need, I'm here until six. That's when my shift ends."

Apparently completely oblivious to the woman's change in mood, Sam smiled at her again and said, "Sure. We'll find you if we need to."

The woman gave Dean a passing glance and turned her attention to Sam again as he nodded to Dean and walked to the elevators at the end of the large lobby.

"I think you got lucky there, Sammy," Dean said in an undertone as Sam pressed the button to summon a car.

"What?" Sam asked blankly.

Dean made his voice breathy. "My shift finishes at six…"

"Gross, don't do that again," Sam said, his mouth a grimace "And she was just being helpful."

"I know you're not as up to speed with ladies as me, but that woman liked you."

The car arrived and Sam stepped in without comment. Dean could see him mulling over what he'd said though, and the thought wasn't appealing to him. Dean would have been disturbed if it was.

Sam pressed the button for the second floor and they rode up.

"Remember, Sam, we're not here for dates," Dean said seriously. "We're stopping a monster dragging people to the Underworld."

Sam nodded, looking distracted. "I wonder which one it is."

"Which what?"

"Underworld. Most cultures and religions have a version of it, hell is the one most are familiar with. It could be any of them though."

"You think they're all real?" Dean asked, horrified by the thought.

"I hope not," Sam said seriously.

The elevator doors opened and Sam checked the direction on the wall before taking them left.

"What is nephrology anyway?" Dean asked.

"Renal," Sam said then added, "kidneys."

"I know what renal is," Dean said, a bite of annoyance in his voice. As the person that was always telling Dean he was a genius not a grunt, he sometimes spoke to him as if he was Castiel.

As they pushed open a door and walked along a long hallway, Dean thought about Castiel. He wondered if Billie would be able to help them get him back. Make it two favors instead of one. She'd have to see Castiel would be an asset, too, if they could get Lucifer in another vessel. Dean didn't like the idea of working with the Devil, but he was the only one that had gone up against Amara before.

Sam pushed open a door marked nephrology and they walked into a busy ward with people in uniforms making their way up and down the path, as well as many patients toting IV poles.

A woman in flowered scrubs spotted them and came toward them. "Can I help you?"

Sam was a little more cautious with his charm this time, keeping his smile small as he said, "We're here to see Melinda Parker."

She beamed. "Good. Melinda gets very few visitors." Her smile faded. "Do you know her condition?"

"No," Sam said. "We only know that she was admitted."

"I see. Well, Melinda is very unwell. We have moved her care plan into a palliative one now. She's unconscious. I'm afraid she doesn't have long."

Dean was impressed to see Sam morph his expression into one of convincing shock, even though they'd both known coming in that Melinda was at the end of her life.

"No, we didn't know," he said. "We'd like to see her now if we can. I don't want to waste any more time."

"Of course." She pointed down the long corridor. "She's in room twenty-seven."

"Thank you," Sam said.

They walked through the corridor, checking room numbers as they went, coming to a stop outside the right one.

Sam paused a moment before opening the door and going in. Dean followed him and stopped just inside, horror filling him. He'd been expecting someone in their late sixties, with greying hair and a life lived behind her. But the girl on the bed was no older than twenty, and that was at a stretch. Her blonde hair fanned over the pillow she reclined on. Her closed eyes were ringed by dark shadows and her skin was almost grey. She was pretty though, a persona of innocence and vulnerability around her that was only in part to the tubes and wires that connected her to the machines around the bed.

"She's so damn young," Dean said bitterly.

Sam picked up the chart hanging from the end of the bed and informed him, "Twenty-one. Kidney failure secondary to diabetes. She looks younger than she is."

"Still too damn young for this," Dean said. "The world sucks."

"It does," Sam concurred, pulling a chair up beside the bed and sitting down.

Dean took a seat on the opposite side of the bed and looked at the girl. This was so wrong. She should be in college, experiencing life, not on a hospital bed experiencing the end of it. And she probably only had hours left. The reaper would come soon, the monster, too, and only him and Sam stood in the way of her getting to her heaven.

The light mood of only minutes before was gone and Dean was angry. They were going to save her from the Underworld, but she would still be dead.

The door opened and a different nurse came in. She'd obviously been appraised of their presence as she showed no surprise to see them, but a kind of happiness instead. She picked up Melinda's chart and walked around Dean's chair to the machine beside the bed. "I won't be long," she said.

"It's fine," Sam said. "Do what you need to do."

She smiled at him and asked, "How do you know Melinda?"

"We're cousins," Sam responded.

"Where are the rest of her family?" Dean asked, recognizing for the first time that she was not only young but alone, too.

The nurse frowned. "I thought you were family. I thought you'd know."

"We are," Dean said.

"Distant," Sam added. "We've not seen Melinda in a long time. There was a rift in the family and we lost touch."

She seemed mollified. "Ahh, I'm sorry. I'm afraid Melinda lost her parents two years ago. They were driving her to the hospital for her dialysis appointment when they were hit by an SUV. It was a head-on collision. Melinda sustained minor wounds but her parents were killed instantly."

"That's awful," Sam said quietly.

"Yes," she agreed. "Melinda has been alone ever since." She noted something down on the chart then walked to the end of the bed and returned it to its place. "You're here now though. I'll leave you with her."

"Thanks," Sam said distractedly.

She slipped out of the room and Sam sighed heavily.

"This sucks," Dean said.

"I can't even imagine how it must feel," Sam said. "I always had you and Dad growing up, and then, when I was in college, I had friends and Jess that would have made sure I wasn't alone. They would have found you for me. To be like this and to have no one with you…"

Dean nodded. He'd never been alone either. Even when he'd been without Sam and his father, Lisa and Ben had been there. They would have taken care of him. They had taken care of him. They had kept him going that awful year Sam had been gone. No one was there to take care of Melinda but them, and all they could do was kill the monster that was coming for her.

"She's not alone now," Dean reminded him. "We're here."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, we are, but for how long?"

Dean realized what he was saying and he looked away. They were here for a hunt, and they couldn't do it until the monster actually showed up. They were sitting here now, waiting for her to die.

He felt like an asshole.

So… Here we go with a new story. This one was a lot of fun to write as I was working with a clear premise to keep in mind—Gencest—and a plot the excited me. It's going to be a briefer than some of my stories—only 16 chapters—but wilder ride, so make yourselves comfy and prepare for some angst, broments and, of course, Gencest.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx