Summary:- Sam and Dean Winchester are two brothers who pursue a centuries old tradition of monster-hunting. The backdrop may have changed, and the Impala boast a warp engine instead of tires, but the care and love these two brothers share remains constant in the face of whatever danger may threaten them.

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The Impala was probably the most well-loved and cared for ship in the entirety of space, even if she didn't offer the perks of the more modern and snazzy vessels which infested the space lanes, criss-crossing the vast reaches of the colonized universe like busy ants.

Due to its reduced size, the two brothers who called the little craft home were forced to live out of each other's pockets. Not that it worried them particularly. Being together was all they'd known since they were children.

Once, the imposing presence of their father John had contributed to reducing the living area even more, but he hadn't been heard from by the siblings in a long time now. They had no idea if he was alive or dead. Sam and Dean had tried their best to trace his movements, but so far without success. As for their mom, she been killed in a hunt gone wrong years before.

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At he moment, however, none of that mattered to Dean, the older of the two brothers, worried as he was for the warming signal which flashed a sluggish amber on the ship's monitors.

"Fuck, Sammy! We're gonna have to make a stop at the nearest spaceport. Supplies are running low and I need a replacement part for the oxygen generator," Dean grumbled, calling up the system data on-screen. "It's working at eighty-nine percent and going slowly but steadily down," he added with a worried sigh.

"I didn't know there was anything wrong with the air supply," Sam frowned. His lanky frame sprawled ungainly in the co-pilot's chair as he browsed through the news channels local to the quadrant.

"That's because you don't know crap about Baby's components."

"I do too," Sam replied, miffed. "Just because I leave the Impala's maintenance to you doesn't mean I don't know how to fix her."

"Fine. Then name all the parts necessary for the smooth running of life support."

"Uh, well..."

"Don't force that big brain of yours, Sasquatch. Keep the little grey cells for sniffing out cases."

With a grin, Dean leaned over the narrow gap which separated the two seats to ruffle his little brother's hair. He received a whack on his hand as Sam brushed it away, which only made Dean's grin widen even more. His baby brother did not like his hair ruffled.

"Truth is, if you didn't have me sitting in the pilot's chair, you'd have been stranded on some crappy-ass, edge-of-the-universe planet long ago."

"Phooey!" Sam puffed out through pressed lips, rolling his eyes and rearranging his long limbs. Being six foot five in the reduced confines of the small ship wasn't an advantage, but the younger Winchester wouldn't have it any other way. He couldn't envisage a different life than scouting space with his brother and saving people from the supernatural, which, contrary to the perception of the modern world, still existed in the grey foggy area most humans negated, unwilling to accept the existence of phenomena they couldn't explain away with current technology.

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The young Winchesters were two of a dwindling group of hunters who still dealt with beings that preyed on humanity. Not all planets had these supernatural predators, but just like humans, monsters had hitched rides on spaceships making runs to newly discovered worlds, putting down roots there. Vamps, shape-shifters, Kitsune, ghouls and a variety of other beings could pass easily for humans, and on the busy passenger ships there was no way of detecting them.

Though the Impala's dimensions were modest, she had all the modern armoury necessary to defend herself from boarders and space pirates. Often her velocity and manageableness alone resolved many iffy situations simply by Dean turning her on her tail and outdistancing any potential danger. Few could match his prowess at the ship's controls.

In comparison, however, the weapons the brothers used to kill monsters were primitive. Shotguns filled with salt rounds, holy water, machetes and knives were still the best remedies against them. Unfortunately, access to these outdated articles was rare; very few gunsmiths remained who could make or repair such objects. Luckily, the brothers didn't have that problem. Bobby Singer, their adopted uncle, had a shop on his home planet of Dakota, and the brothers visited often. The old hunter was always pleased to see them.

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Still studying the diagnostics with the passion kept for all things Impala, Dean didn't notice anything wrong until a soft moan set off his big brother alarms. He turned just in time to see Sam's cheeks take on a sickly, pallid hue, his little brother's hand stretching out towards him as if searching for a touch.

"No, " Dean stuttered. "No! No! No! Not again, Sammy!"

But his sibling only brought his hands to his head and made to slip off the seat. If it wasn't for Dean falling to his knees to gather up his baby brother in his arms and support his weight as the vision took hold, Sam would've clattered to the floor like a felled oak.

Dean hated to see his brother suffer; it drained him like nothing else. Worse still was the fact he could do nothing to help Sam through these weird visions other than hang on tight and whisper comforting words of encouragement.

It had happened three times already. The first time Dean had panicked, unsure of what was happening and what the fuck to do about it. The following times he was only fractionally less worried, breathing in relief when Sam came into himself again.

Neither knew why the younger man had suddenly begun having visions, and the punchline was that they hadn't managed to reach the coordinates that'd flashed across Sam's blurred eyesight in time to save anyone, only contributing to upsetting his baby brother more than he already was.

With relief, Dean saw Sam starting to come out of it, his brother's head falling listlessly onto the older boy's shoulder as if so drained he didn't even have the strength to hold up his head. Clutching onto each other like some four-legged, four-armed creature, the brothers pulled themselves up from the floor, with Dean deftly manoeuvring his sibling back onto the seat.

"You okay there, Sammy?" he asked. He grabbed a half-full bottle of water from the control panel and put it to Sam's lips.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam assured him, taking a slug and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You ready to share?"

Sam sighed. "A ship. In some kind of trouble. The coordinates are hazy but I think I got them. Where's the pad? I need to factor them in before I forget."

Dean grabbed the tablet."Go!"

Sam rattled them off while his brother noted them on the device.

"It's gonna take us at least a day at warp to get there," Dean muttered, reading the screen. "Hope it's not gonna be a wasted journey like before."

Sam shrugged, his face still pale from the blinding pain which accompanied his visions. "We gotta try, Dean. What's the point of me seeing an upcoming tragedy if we never manage to save anyone?"

Dean nodded. He was all for saving people; that's what they did. But if it came to choosing between his brother and others, well, that was no choice at all.

"Okay, Sam. One good thing is, these coordinates are close to Dakota. We can look in on Bobby. He might have the part I need hanging around his yard. Just hope Baby's oxygen system holds out until we get there."

After carefully feeding the numbers into the navigational computer, the elder Winchester turned his attention to what was truly important - his baby brother.

"Come on, dude. It's late. Time for all psychic geeks to get some shut-eye," Dean ordered, taking in the sight of his wan brother and wanting nothing more than to tuck him up safely under the covers like the child he still erroneously saw him as.

"I'm not tired, Dean. You go, I'll keep watch," Sam parried, brushing off his big brother's concern.

"No way. The Impala's automatic pilot can deal. When we reach the coordinates, she'll let us know." Overriding Sam's objections, Dean grasped his brother's arm and manhandled him towards the back of the ship, where the sleeping quarters were situated.

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The two compartments weren't much larger than cubicles. The smaller had two bunk beds, which the brothers had shared until a few months ago. But when Sam had begun to have these debilitating visions, Dean had insisted they used the larger one where their parents used to sleep, which boasted an almost decent-sized double bed.

At first Sam had balked at the idea of them sharing a bed. He wasn't a kid any more; he didn't need to cuddle up to his big brother to feel safe. But Dean had countered with "it's not for you, Sam, but for me. You might have one of these freaky visions and wander off somewhere."

Sam had rolled his eyes. "There isn't exactly any place to run, Dean. I walk four yards in any direction, I hit the hull!"

"Yeah, but who knows how one of those things could play out. You might decide to open the air lock and go off to rescue some damsel in distress."

"That is total crap!" Sam had bitched, but in the end he'd surrendered with a put-upon sigh. If it made Dean feel more secure, so be it.

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The temporary had become permanent, and neither of the two had further discussed their sleeping arrangements, and now with this latest vision Sam had suffered Dean was more than fine with being as close to his kid brother as he could, even in sleep.

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While Sam shuffled into the tiny bathroom, Dean shrugged out of his jeans. Then, with an uneasy sigh, he padded back down the short corridor to the cockpit, worry for the glitch in the air system nagging at him. All they needed was for the Impala to leave them drifting in space without oxygen. But the computer still signalled the same eighty-nine percent.

By the time he got back to the bedroom, Sam was curled up against the bulkhead. The bed had been positioned against it, in an effort to make use of every inch of surface area. Dean had insisted his sibling take the spot furthest from the door. If Sam decided he wanted to go walkabout during the ship's night, he'd have to clamber over him first.

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Casting his eyes over his brother's body, he noticed with relief that Sam's cheeks had lost their paleness, but the hazel eyes which met his were shadowed and lack-lustre. These 'whatever-the-fuck-they-were' visions took such a lot out of his baby brother, and all for nothing, at least up 'till now.

"Move your gigantor ass," Dean motioned, collapsing onto the bed next to his brother. "You wanna save whoever or whatever is in that ship, you gotta be rested and vigilant."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, much to Dean's surprise. Sam was nothing if not stubborn, and if he was giving in so easily to Dean's mother-henning, it meant the kid was really out of it.

Dean rolled onto his side, facing the door. It wasn't long before he felt Sam snuggle in close at his back, not that there was much room in the bed to start with. Nevertheless, Dean allowed himself a tiny smile. Sam might be a lanky twenty-two year old, but in that body beat the heart of a little, tousle-haired kid.

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When the Impala's alarm sounded, Dean found himself tangled up in a pair of long limbs. He almost fell out of bed as he came to full wakefulness.

"Come on, Sammy, we've reached the coordinates," he rasped hoarsely, juggling into his pants as he hopped along the corridor.

On the Impala's screen, a small ship hung dead in space. Sam, who'd rushed after his brother, studied the vehicle from over his sibling's shoulder. "We've got to get over there. There must be someone inside. Otherwise, why would my vision have brought me to an empty ship?"

"It's more of a oversized runabout than a ship," Dean corrected him. "But yeah, I'm guessing there must be someone on board." He didn't have the heart to point out that they were probably dead by now, just as the victims in the three previous visions had been.

"Try hailing it," Sam advised, "Maybe the communications are still working."

"Na, they'd be sending out a Mayday if there was any power at all, even in the back-up batteries. We better suit up," Dean said, not in the least happy with the situation. "The oxygen could be down too." Boarding a strange ship without knowing what they were getting into; well, it was extremely dangerous, to say the least. "I'll line the Impala up with their air-lock and try to latch on. I'd rather we didn't have to go walkies in space."

Sam hummed his agreement. A couple of times they'd needed to exit the ship, but neither man was comfortable floating around in the void. "Yeah, but we gotta hurry, Dean."

"Okay, man," his sibling conceded, manoeuvring the Impala with dexterous skill. He breathed a sigh of relief when her airlock clicked happily against the runabout's.

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Dean hated the Extravehicular suits. Once, in safety training with their dad, a microscopic hole had appeared in young Sammy's suit. He and John had just managed to drag the kid back inside the airlock before his oxygen leaked out completely. As soon as he was able, Dean had spent a week on gaming planet Gambler One, scrounging enough money from the poker tables to buy two sets of state-of-the-art EVA suits for himself and Sam. The memory of almost losing his baby brother because of shoddy equipment was still fresh in his mind.

Sam's gloved finger had already pressed the release to roll the air lock back by the time a suited-up Dean came loping up behind him. "Wait, dude! We don't know what we're gonna find in there," Dean chided, his voice echoing through Sam's helmet. He held out a tattered duffel containing their shotguns, holy water and blades.

Nodding in acknowledgement, Sam curled his gloved fingers around the handles. He'd been so anxious to get inside the unknown ship he hadn't lifted his weapons.

For the millionth time, Dean cursed the douchey visions. They were dangerous, not only in themselves, but because they made Sam less careful. His mind projected to getting to the victims as quickly as possible, and the fact of having been unable to reach the previous ones in time, had made him worse.

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Whatever. Now wasn't the time to dwell on that as he nudged past Sam to take point and step over the threshold into the unknown.

The interior of the runabout was dark except for the occasional red emergency light flickering gloomily at floor level. "What do you reckon? " Dean asked. "Your psychic crap always has to do with supernatural stuff, so...?"

"Yeah, could be a vamp or ghoul stowed away on the ship, but why disable it?" Sam replied. "I doubt even monsters want to get stranded in space."

"Maybe once they'd snacked on the pilot, they realised they didn't know how to fly it, or maybe they were waiting for a couple of goons like us to board and supply them with more fresh meat," Dean suggested, his tone ironic.

"Good job we know what we're doing, then," Sam huffed, his wan attempt at a smile visible through the visor of his helmet.

With a disdainful snort, Dean moved cautiously forward, his EMF outstretched in front of him, senses alert, waiting for something to jump out at them, but hoping it wouldn't.

When he found himself slammed against the bulkhead, unable to move a muscle, he reckoned they were in over their heads. Searching out his brother, he spotted Sam splayed out like a starfish on the opposite wall.

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"Sammy!" A smarmy voice called out cheerfully, its tone causing Dean's hackles to rise like a looming tsunami. "It's nice to meet you in the flesh at long last." He gave a jaunty little nod towards Dean. "Thanks for keeping my protégée safe for me, Deano. You did an excellent job, my boy. Too bad you won't be getting a gold star. Only a messy death."

"Who the fuck are you?" Sam burst out, trying to pull himself free, but having as much luck as a fly in a spider's web.

The man moved forward and the younger Winchester could see he had freaky, yellow eyes which seemed to glow amber in the semi-obscurity. He shivered. Who, or what, the hell was this?

"Oh, kid! " the being winked. "We're going to have such fun getting to know one other. I've been waiting impatiently for you to come to maturity and here you are, all cute and grown. I suppose I should introduce myself. Name's Azazel, your friendly neighbourhood demon."

Sam blanched. They'd never come across a demon before. They hadn't really believed they existed.

"Sorry to hear about your mom, but taking on a nest of vamps single-handed was kinda rash. Though I gotta thank her for the huge favour she did me back awhiles."

While the demon prattled on, Dean's brain absorbed every word that was being said, filing it all away for future reference. That is, if there was a future.

"You set this up?" Sam asked.

"Guilty," the demon leered. "You guys are hard to catch, so I guessed it was easier to make you come to me... and here you are. We demons aren't too fond of floating though space. Possessing an unsuspecting mutton-head is far easier and more exhilarating."

"Is there anyone else on the ship?" Sam asked.

"Yeah... Sorry about that, Sammy. Had to get rid of a couple of bothersome humans, but I left their rug-rats alive as a good-will offering. There, you see? I can be a good guy too."

"So. What now?" Dean broke in. "You gonna kill us?"

"Now why would I do that, big bro? Just dropped in for a quick visit. Wanted to see how Sammy here had sprouted up, and I gotta say he sprouted good. As for you Deano, you're still needed to help keep Sam safe and sound, but it won't be long now till I take him from you. Not that you'll mind, you'll be dead beforehand. Well, this has been cosy, but you can have too much of a good thing. I have to be off. Things to do, people to see. You got thirty seconds to free the ship from the little snotty-nosed runts before I change my mind, Sammy. I'll keep your big bro here as collateral. You don't wanna be trying anything or I'll anticipate his demise, and you wouldn't want that now, would you?"

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With a wave of the demon's hand, Sam came unstuck from the bulkhead. He moved gingerly past Azazel to the front of the runabout, where a couple of children were huddled impossibly small in a corner. To one side lay the mutilated bodies of a man and woman. Sam looked away, his heart heavy. Once again, his vision had been useless. Two innocents were dead. But at least he could still save the kids.

"Hey," Sam said, removing his helmet."I know you guys are scared, but we gotta go."

The children were trembling and Sam could see dried tear-trails along their cheeks. Their eyes were fixed on the carnage of what he supposed were their parents, a few feet away. Crouching down, he opened his arms and schooled his face into his most empathic puppy-dog expression. The two little boys couldn't have been more than five or six, and Sam was torn between cajoling them into coming with him or simply scooping them up into his arms and getting the hell out of there, aware of Azazel's presence at his back. For all he knew, the demon was only toying with them all, and would throw a killing blow before any of them reached the Impala.

The more practical option won. Sam grabbed the kids, nestled them against his chest, and pushed past the demon.

"Now let Dean go," he growled.

Azazel tutted his disapproval at Sam's hostile attitude. "We had a deal, and I'm a demon of my word, Sammy, You'll get Dean back this time, but soon, very soon, I'll be back to claim you for my own. Now, take your worthless brother and go. I've got business to attend to. My meat-suit here is gonna taxi me around the galaxy, so better get that airlock closed mighty quick, or I might take a piece of your ship with me as a memento."

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As soon they set foot on the Impala. Dean slammed the release to close the heavy metal door and detach from the runabout. Immediately he sought out Sam's eyes. "What the fuck Sammy? What was that even about?"

The two kids gathered up in Sam's arms started to cry, and he looked helplessly to his brother.

Dean sighed. "Just hang on, dude. Let me get out of the EVA and I'll take the kids."

Sam didn't know how his brother managed, but before long Dean had the the two little boys, twins, sitting in the pilot chairs up front. He had calmed them down, with even a tiny smile skittering along their lips.

Dean had a way with children which had to be innate, as the only kid he'd had any real interaction with had been his baby brother.

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"What are we gonna do with the them?" Dean asked in a low voice, drawing Sam to the side.

"I dunno, Dean. Drop them off at the nearest space station," Sam answered. "What else can we do? They probably have family who can take them in. It's not as if we can keep them on the ship. Then we gotta work through what just happened back there. A demon...!"

"Worse; it seems to want you, Sam, and what the fuck for?"

"Maybe he gave me these visions to keep in contact with me or something. I have no idea." The younger Winchester threw out his arms wide in despair. "As if our lives weren't complicated enough, now we've got a demon on our backs. And it's my fault!"

"Hey! Stop that! How can any of this be your fault?" Dean said, pulling his brother into his arms for a consolatory hug. "We'll figure this out. We always have. It's what we've been trained to do."

Sam hung onto him as if to a life-line in a tempestuous sea. Dean had always been there for him, protected him, loved him, but Sam was a man now, no longer the skinny child who'd needed that protection. Now he could repay Dean for all he'd been given, protect his big brother as he'd been protected.

As for the love he bore him, well that went unsaid, because they were Winchesters and words weren't necessary.

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The End