Every Step Leads Home

by Leydhawk

Sam Winchester and Timothy McGee have met several times through their lives, but when they meet again, on a hiking trail in Colorado, events spark something neither ever expected. Pre-slash. First in a series. Later installments will be rated M for sex.

A/N This is pre-slash. Pre-slash because I think Sam deserves someone special in his life, and I searched for days to find a female character who would be a partner, a lover, an equal, and found none who satisfied me. Perhaps this speaks to the continuing dearth of good female characters, but in any case, when a friend suggested Abby Scuito, I started watching NCIS and found Timothy McGee. (Abby couldn't have Sam's back in a fight, and I believe that is an important aspect for Sam's someone, otherwise, she might have worked if I'd been able to get her through her commitment issues.) So, we have pre-slash with plenty of slash to come. Uh-hem. Yes, both men are straight, which would pose an insurmountable problem in a completely NCIS world, but add in Supernatural, and anything becomes possible. Explanation of how this came about will be in a future story, but rest assured, it makes sense. I've explained it to some degree over on livejournal. I use the same name, if you'd care to read it.

Fudged timeline mostly starting in early/mid-season 8 SPN, 10 NCIS, story then splits to AU (no trials, no Delilah, Ziva's still here) in which the status quo continues episodic for both rather than trying to incorporate existing stories. Unless I feel like it. ;-)

Onward! I'd love to have you review. Thanks!

Every Step Leads Home

Timothy McGee had just finished slinging his backpack on when the big black Impala dropped its passenger off. He snapped the waist strap and tightened it with a jerk. Frowning, he walked quickly to the trail head, trying to avoid the other man. He hustled up into the trees and pushed himself to move faster than he normally would. Perhaps the other person would take one of the shorter trails which branched off from the long and difficult one he followed.

Half an hour later, Tim had stopped to look at a view and heard the other hiker coming up behind him. He sighed and turned to be a polite nature lover, then froze in recognition.

"Sam?!"

The tall man stopped and stared. "Tim McGee? Man, what are you doing out here?" He approached and held out his hand. Tim took it and shook firmly. Keeping a hold of his hand an extra few seconds, Sam Winchester reassured himself of the reality of his friend's presence. Tim grinned fondly.

"Same thing you are I'd suppose."

"Yeah, I had to get away for a while."

"Me, too."

They shared a long look, each searching for the person they'd met three previous times, all when they'd been much younger, in the now fully adult face. Both perceived that kindred feeling they'd always shared seemed intact, and nodded in acknowledgment.

"So… How far are you heading?" Sam nodded further up the trail.

"About twenty miles, maybe two days up, a day or so there, then back. You?"

"Yeah, I wanted to see if I could find those ruins."

Tim thrilled at the serendipity. "Exactly! I should have known you'd have heard of those. Hey, you want to go on together? Give us a chance to catch up. It's been, what, eight years?"

"Something like that, yeah. I think it'd be great to hang with you on the way up there. As long as you think you can keep up…" Sam teased, cocking an eyebrow.

Tim puffed up dramatically. "I'm an NCIS field agent now. I'm in the best shape of my life. No problem, Sam."

"Good for you! Congratulations. You look great, dude. You haven't aged at all." Sam could see the maturity in Tim's carriage and the shadows of experience in his eyes, but he still didn't look older than his mid-twenties.

Tim shook his head. "How about you? You must work out a lot." Sam appeared to have the build of a Seal or other hard-core military man now.

Sam shrugged. "Ended up a hunter after all. It kinda goes with the job, y'know?"

Tim nodded sympathetically, recalling the craziness they'd gone through together and the stories Sam had told of other adventures. "You'll have to give me the greatest hits then. Five days won't be long enough."

Sam laughed. "Very true." He slapped Tim on the back and gave his shoulder a squeeze. It felt like the best coincidence to see his old friend again. Tim felt warmed by the contact and his smile continued as they hiked.

"How'd you end up back in the life?" Tim asked, curious as to how the enthusiastic pre-law student from Stanford had returned to what he'd been desperate to escape.

Sam told the story of losing Jessica matter of factly, finally having enough distance to talk about it simply and trusting his friend to understand. Tim tried, nodding in sympathy. He had been blessed in his life that the closest person to him who'd died had been a co-worker, but his imagination supplied him with plenty of sympathy.

"And you found that demon?"

"Yeah, yellow-eyes is dead."

"But you didn't quit."

"It's...it's a hard life to get away from. I tried, but..." Sam shrugged. "I can't seem to leave living." He laughed at his own black humor. Tim gave him a puzzled look. "Okay, it's like this..." He told McGee about how he'd died and Dean's deal to bring him back. He skipped the demon blood addiction and Ruby, related Dean's death and resurrection ("Angels? Really?") finally getting to the point when Lucifer had risen by the time they stopped for lunch. They sat on a curved rock in the shade of a large ponderosa.

"I wondered about all that crazy weather and stuff. Straight out of my Catholic school nightmares, man. Thought about trying to find you, even, but I was busy dealing with how it all affected the Navy. Crime was rampant..." Tim shook his head. "But you, you were at ground zero the whole time!"

Sam shrugged. In part, it all felt like ancient history to him, but talking about it brought back the pain and fear they'd suffered. "Can we talk about you for a bit? My life... I'm trying to get some perspective during this trip, y'know?"

"Yeah, of course, Sam. But... What do you want to know?" Tim normally felt his life was the more exciting one when talking with anyone outside the agency but Sam was a definite exception.

"Just...just all about you. Married? I didn't see a ring but..."

Tim blushed. "N-no. Never married. I don't suppose you have been, either, after Jess?"

"Nah."

Tim nodded. "My little sister graduated college. Mom's living in Arizona. The Admiral is still...the Admiral," he stalled.

"But you, Tim," Sam insisted. He found himself compelled to know everything about his friend. "What do you do for fun?"

Tim looked away. Everything he did in his spare time seemed utterly frivolous in light of Sam's life. "Nothing much...I work a lot," he replied vaguely.

Sam slapped the back of his hand on Tim's chest. "I want to hear about your normal life. Perspective; it'll be good for me. Let's see, we played some computer games together that summer you taught at Stanford. You still do any of that?"

Tim finally threw his concerns to the wind. He'd always been able to speak freely with Sam. Why stop now?

"All the time. I have this really sweet setup at home..." He enthusiastically described his computer, the games he played, people he'd met online. ("A pro cheerleader who plays video games? Damn!")

They got back on the trail and Tim tried to turn the conversation back to Sam, his curiosity eating him up.

"Uh, massively condensed version, okay?" Sam suggested. "I let Lucifer possess me, jumped into hell with him, was rescued, fought Leviathans that were accidentally released from purgatory. Bobby died. Dean and Cas were sent to purgatory when we took down the big bad. I... Broke down. Quit hunting, fell in love, lost her, Dean escaped, he's totally pissed at me, and we're hunting again."

The trail narrowed, allowing Tim to step behind Sam and take a bit of time to study Sam and process the information. At six foot six, his long hair clean and shining in the dappled light, with a worn backpack, old school bedroll, two water jugs and a battered metal canteen slung from massive shoulders, Sam looked incredibly physically fit and healthy, but Tim had seen the haunted look in his eyes and heard the darkness in what he hadn't said. The Sam with him now had suffered; he was damaged, a harder person than he had been when last they'd met. When the trail widened out, he moved up beside his friend again and put his hand on Sam's shoulder, left it there for several yards, then squeezed, patted, and released. Sam understood Tim's gesture of support, and smiled at him. Tim nodded.

"There are books," Sam offered, then couldn't believe he'd said it. Tim gave him a questioning look. "It's more weirdness, dude. There's this guy, and he's a prophet of the lord, and he... Sees me and Dean, and he writes it down and... They're published, man. It's crazy, but, if you want to know more detail, you can probably find them."

Tim laughed. They stopped, Sam looking at Tim with confusion sliding toward hurt and Tim, not seeing Sam's reaction, staring out into the negative space between the aspen trunks in the grove through which they were passing.

"Why is it that with all you've been through, that is what seems like the most bizarre thing to me?" Tim turned to Sam, whose expression cleared as soon as he understood that Tim's mirth was about Tim's own reaction, not at Sam. Sam shrugged, reassured that Tim was still kind and trustworthy. They resumed walking, and Tim found he wanted to tell Sam about his own writing, but it didn't seem like the right time.

Taking a breather at a drop off which had a beautiful view of the valley below them, Tim felt some of the peace he'd come for begin to fill him. "I love the outdoors," he said softly. "But you know, I only hike in arid regions anymore." Sam looked inquisitive. "Poison ivy. Twice," Tim explained.

"Ouch," Sam winced.

They continued to talk occasionally as they hiked, making good time and enjoying one another's company. The light lengthened and they began to consider spots to spend the night.

"How about under one of the big trees? No lightning was predicted before I left, and it'll help keep the frost off in the morning," Tim suggested. Sam nodded thoughtfully.

"Needles will make a pretty cushy bed, too. How about that one?" Sam indicated a tree above the deer track the cairns had led them on for the last quarter mile. Tim agreed and they went to check it out.

Setting up camp underlined the differences in how they had equipped themselves as Sam unrolled his blankets and withdrew some beef jerky for his dinner then sat munching and watched, fascinated, while Tim prepared all his assorted sundries.

Tim had a self-inflating sleeping mat, then his high-end sleeping bag. He forwent the one man tent and began pulling gadgets out of his backpack. The meal he'd chosen for his dinner this first night was Jamaican Jerk Rice and Chicken. He added the specified amount of water to his nonstick ultralight pot and got his fire going in a cylinder which looked like a tiny chimney for starting a charcoal grill. He put the water on to heat and plugged his tablet computer into the usb on one side of the stove. He was excited to see how well converting the heat of the fire into energy to charge his device would work. Adding the dehydrated mix to his pot, he finally became aware of Sam staring at him with a goofy grin on his face.

"What?" Tim asked defensively.

"Have you ever heard the term 'glamper'?" Sam asked.

"I am not! My tablet is my map, not a toy, and- "

"Dude! Chill, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to rag on you too much. Just a little," he winked and tried to soften the insult. "That heat conversion thing is really cool," he said. Tim was still very sensitive to perceived criticism and Sam needed to remember that.

Tim realized Sam hadn't been trying to be mean, just teasing, but with all the years in his current position at work, the years of sometimes cruel hazing, he'd assumed the worst.

"You should see the UV water purifier. It's the size of a ball point pen. There is some really cool stuff available," Tim said, trying to tell Sam it was okay without saying it. Sam smiled. He got it.

When his meal was hot, Tim offered to share in exchange for some of Sam's jerky and they ate, Sam still chuckling about such a luxurious seeming meal while camping.

When they'd finished eating and Tim had put his gear away, they sat in companionable silence. Sam looked out as the visibility faded with the sun, watching as darkness engulfed the tree trunks like a malignant tide washing in, consuming everything before it. It felt like all the light in the world was being swallowed by night.

Oblivious to Sam's turn of mood, Tim relaxed, enjoying being with a friend who didn't fill every silence with chatter. Needing this break after all of the drama of the bombing at the headquarters building and the emotional fallout after, he was feeling the normal tension of working and being constantly on call continuing to ebb. To discover he was getting to spend the time with Sam made it feel like a true vacation rather than just a break. Wanting to share the thought, he looked over at Sam and frowned. Sam looked coiled up, frozen, none of the relaxation Tim felt evident anywhere in him.

"Sam? What's up?"

Sam heaved a sigh and met Tim's gaze. "Huh? Nothing."

"Bull. What were you thinking that had you looking like you were ready to fight?"

Sam thought about it. "I was just watching the night come on."

"You aren't thinking we're in danger, are you? Because I checked the area out and we're - "

"No. No. Habit, I guess. I'm okay."

Tim continued to study Sam, noting his shoulders had relaxed and he seemed better. "You can talk to me, Sam. I mean-I hope you feel like you can talk to me."

Sam's smile was visible even in the dimness. "I know. Seriously, I wasn't thinking about anything in particular. I'm not sure what got me all tensed up."

Tim nodded thoughtfully. Sam was trying to get away from some very heavy situations that likely would be on his mind even unconsciously. The fate of the world had been laid on his shoulders and that wasn't a thing to forget easily. No matter how strong those shoulders, that experience would surely have lingered.

"I'm beat. I had a really good day, though," Tim offered, figuring it wasn't a discussion to have before sleep.

"Great day, man. I could probably sleep soon, too, though."

They settled in and wished each other good-night. Full night had fallen, and even the starlight was obscured by the tree branches above them.

Several minutes later, Tim heard Sam's voice in the darkness.

"I'm really glad we met up again, Tim," Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, me too."

"It's just...this trip is so much better with you than if I'd been alone, brooding about Dean and his anger and Amelia..." Sam sounded husky, and his ramble made Tim suspect he was starting to doze while still talking.

"It's good to see you, Sam. Better than I could have imagined." Tim spoke honestly. Being with someone he trusted not only with his life but with his emotional well-being, someone who wouldn't hurt his feelings any more than he'd hurt a child, was a precious experience. Even Abby sometimes unleashed her acid tongue on him.

"'missed you... There's so much darkness around me...inside me...you're a light...so pure an' good, Tim...s'true..."

When Sam's sleep-talking ceased, Tim thought about what the younger man had said. His experiences meeting Sam had been important to him and it was amazing to find that he was as important to Sam. Their time together had been his secret, a private memory he visited in the most trying times in his life. His heart ached to hear that Sam felt drowned in darkness, and Tim began to consider how they could maintain their friendship beyond this unlikely fourth meeting. He fell asleep thinking about it.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The next morning, Tim woke first and set about heating water to make coffee for both of them, awakening Sam when by wafting the java scent toward him enticingly. The big hunter's eyes flew open and he immediately smiled in response to the impish grin Tim wore.

"Good god, is that real coffee? I take back the glamper thing, totally," Sam told him. He sat up and Tim snickered at the squirrel's nest Sam's hair had become. He handed him a cup and pointed at his hair.

"I hope you brought a comb," Tim said. Sam shrugged and ran his fingers through the long strands, which, surprisingly, settled the golden brown locks into decent order that easily. "What's with the long hair anyway? I mean, it looks good, don't get me wrong. I bet women love it, but..."

"I get about one haircut a year, dude. Dean's constantly re-shaving his or hitting some barbershop, so," he shrugged again.

"Huh, hadn't thought of that. I grew mine out a few inches years ago but when I was in a hurry I'd just slick it straight back anyway. You ever do the ponytail thing?" Tim grinned. He couldn't picture it.

Sam laughed. "No way. I'd look like such a douche bag if I did that!"

Tim started up his little fire again and made oatmeal. "What do you have?"

"Trail mix," Sam said.

"Wanna mix some in and split it?" Tim indicated the pot. Sam agreed.

There was a distinct and comfortable level of cooperation as they packed up and got on their way. They swapped out the lead whenever it came naturally, and they talked occasionally but spent considerable time in quiet companionship. Sam felt himself relaxing more than he had in years and Tim was aware that the tension in his friend ebbed as the morning wore on which made him feel better knowing the hike was giving Sam what he needed.

After lunch, they began talking more. This time, conversation was no longer about catching up on each other's lives but instead was companionable discourse. Tim made jokes, his dry delivery bringing laughter from Sam each time. The sound made Tim grin, and he watched as Sam's strides became more free, less rigidly regimental.

They spoke of computers and hacking, and began comparing notes and techniques. Speaking animatedly on the topic for the next half hour, not paying attention to their surroundings except to keep on the path below the lee of the ridge they were following. The shadow they walked in darkened as clouds skidded across the sky, but it wasn't until the wind had picked up considerably that they took notice. A gust powerful enough to rock them hit and they exchanged a look when it did. Both pairs of eyes went to the sky.

"Crap," Tim breathed. The purple gray clouds raced by above them, and all his experience screamed at him for missing the signs of the impending storm.

"Oh yeah," Sam agreed. Both immediately went into heightened alert, Sam as if he was on a hunt, Tim a case.

"Cover," Sam ordered, and they both looked around. Tim shook his head almost immediately at their unprotected location on the ledge trail, drop off beside them. He swung his backpack off. Withdrawing his tablet computer, he studied the topography of their locale on the map software.

Sam was trying to remember the last good cover he'd seen and his stomach sank when he realized it was over an hour ago, before they'd started following the narrow trail along the ridge. He looked around again, angry with himself that he'd allowed them to get into such an untenable position, just as the rain started.

Tim ignored the drops hitting his head and upper back as he hunched over his tablet, scanning the maps of the area for the nearest shelter. Thunder rumbled overhead and he called out to Sam. "On the other side of the ridge, back to the south about a quarter mile there's a more protected area. We should climb up and over. It's the best shelter nearby."

"Up's probably not the best way, dude-"

"I know but-"

"Anything further along this trail?"

"No, not for another two miles."

Sam nodded but still had reservations about the steep slope above them. Some areas of bare sandstone were slickrock and would be treacherous when wet. But the rain wasn't too heavy yet, so he girded himself and agreed. Tim tossed his tablet back into his bag and swung his pack back onto his shoulders in a rush. Sam was already further up the trail looking for the best way over the lip of the ridge. Tim followed. A few dozen yards on, Sam stopped and pointed to an area. There was a crevice above an outcropping.

"There are handholds here and up through there. Think you can reach those rocks and get to that crevice?" Sam asked. Tim's eyes followed the area Sam indicated and he considered.

"Yeah, I think so. That last bit will be a reach, though," Tim replied. His stomach was knotted, as he'd never been much for climbing, with his slowly improving fear of heights, but the angle wasn't too steep. More of a scramble than a climb, he told himself.

"I'll go first and check the route. Follow exactly, okay?" Sam said. He could feel the tension radiating from Tim and wished they had any other option.

"Yep." Tim kept his fear firmly under control, shoving it out of his mind.

Sam moved onto the ridge, raising his long legs up the first rise and leaning against the rock. It was slippery, but not yet impossible. He headed up, testing each step and hold. It wasn't quite climbing, but safety gear would have been welcome with the sudden storm intensifying. Tim came up carefully behind him. Sam braced himself near the top of the crevice, an expanse of boulder their last obstacle to the crest. He hoped it would be an easier descent on the other side. Small pebbles and grit were slipping from under his grip on the rock no matter how still he tried to stay, sifting down to impede Tim. Sam reached a hand down across the gap Tim had been concerned about. Tim grasped Sam's wrist and stretched his leg across the open air. A rock sheered away under his foot as he tried to gain purchase, and his other foothold gave way at the same moment. Sam saw Tim start to slide and gripped hard, pulling the agent to where he braced himself in the narrow top of the crack. Tim's body weight pulled him just as the sky opened up. Rain poured down, nearly blinding both of them. Tim scrambled for hand and footholds on anything, panic beginning to rise as each one he found crumbled away. The hold on Sam's wrist was his only security, and he cried out when he felt Sam letting go.

Sam heaved Tim upward and shifted his grip to the shoulder strap of his pack so he could lift him bodily.

"No!" Tim cried when he realized what Sam was doing, and then he slipped out of the backpack.

One arm tangled in the narrow adjustable part of Tim's shoulder strap, and he held on, feeling one finger strain, twisted unnaturally.

"Shit!" Tim heard Sam's shout. "Hold on!"

Tim's free hand was scrambling for purchase still, survival instincts causing him to flail and kick, feet skidding, knees banging on rock.

"Keep still!" Sam ordered. Tim gritted his teeth and forced himself to stop moving. He reached up with his free hand and held the strap, easing the strain on his twisted finger. He scraped along the stone as Sam raised him upward.

Sam braced his feet as securely as he could, then used both hands and lifted, using the strap like a rope, the heavy weight of the pack and equipment making it viciously awkward. He reached Tim's hands and took a quick breath, heaved upward in a jerk, and let go the strap, shifting to grip Tim's arms. Tim cried out when the full weight of the pack wrenched itself off his hands and then fell away but he tightened his fingers on the sleeves of Sam's jacket.

"Put your feet on top of mine," Sam said, raising Tim as high as he could while holding his forearms. The strain on his back and shoulders eased as Tim transferred his weight when his boots came to rest on Sam's, and Sam hung onto him with his right hand while returning his left hand to the hold he'd released. "What the hell?!" Sam exclaimed, breath heaving from adrenaline and exertion.

"I didn't buckle the waist strap!" Tim snapped.

"Dude," Sam shook his head, a shaky laugh escaping him.

They both took several gasping breaths. They were chest to chest, and looked at each other in relief for a long moment. Tim looked above them, the curve of the boulder looking miles wide with water sheeting over it. "Crap. What now?"

"Up. I'll brace you, and you get up there, lay flat, spider crawl to the top. Keep as much contact with the rock as you can," Sam instructed.

"Yeah, for traction. Okay. You'll follow behind me, too, right?"

"Yeah, man. We're gonna make it," Sam's determination calmed Tim further. "Let's go!"

Tim climbed, using Sam's thigh and shoulder for footholds, then he was up, sprawled flat on the sandstone. It felt as slick as pond ice, but the slope wasn't as steep as it had looked from below. He incrementally began to crawl upward. After an interminable time, Tim felt himself hit the crest. Lightning, thunder, pouring rain continued, and he lay still, craning his neck to look back for Sam, then squinting into the onslaught to try to find a way forward.

Sam touched Tim's leg as he made his way up beside the other man. "You okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Tim said. And surprisingly, he truly was. He'd gained a lot of confidence in his and Sam's ability to work as a team in a very short time. "You?"

"Uh-huh. See anything?" He nodded down before them.

"Not really. We need to head south, so I'd say we stay on the crest until we get to a less inclined slope to move down."

"Is there a drop below?" Sam asked. Tim tried to recall the quick look he'd taken at the topographical map on his tablet.

"A couple of fissures that drop sheer between here and where we're going."

"Damn. I don't like being up here with this lightning."

"Yeah, we'll get down as soon as we can. Lying flat will help, and your pack doesn't have a metal frame like mine did," Tim tried to reassure Sam. "Thanks for the save," he offered. Sam smiled, a quick flash of white teeth in the dark and rain.

"No problem. You ready to head on?"

"Yeah, this way," Tim took a deep breath and began to move along the ridge. Sam followed, keeping watch and staying in arms reach of his friend. He'd sensed Tim's uncertainty with their current predicament and was on alert to do whatever was necessary to get them both out of it safely.

They got to where the slope gentled and began to carefully edge down. Both were soaked to the skin, so the rain was a nuisance to vision and a curse to movement on the slick rock but was ignorable otherwise. Tim could see the swaying shadow of trees farther on below them and hoped that meant more level ground. He reversed as he neared the dark forms and let himself skid down to brace his feet against the trunks. The trees were hardy pines clinging tenaciously to the meager soil between the rocks, but the slope was still quite steep. He held up a fist for Sam to wait while he peered into the gloom, trying to find a path, using the lightning flashes to see by.

Twelve to fifteen feet below the trees he stood braced on, he thought he could make out a path leading to the sheltered spot he'd seen on the map. He looked up toward Sam.

"Gonna drop down and make sure it's stable," Tim called to him. A lightning flash illuminated the hand Sam held up in reply. Sam moved down to the tree next to him, the gnarled boughs shaking under his mass.

"Looks good, but let me keep ahold of you for initial descent."

"Right."

Sam squatted on the trunk, then motioned for Tim to go. Tim got down to hang on the trunk he'd stood upon and Sam grabbed his wrist and nodded. Tim dropped, skidding a little but steadying quickly. The trail was inclined but standing wasn't too difficult.

"Be careful, but I think we're good," Tim told Sam. Sam shifted, holding onto the branch and dangling. Tim put his hands on Sam's legs, ready to grab him if he slipped. "I've got you."

Sam landed lightly and Tim stepped back. "Thanks. Okay, so, that way?"

Tim had turned to start out when an extra deluge came down from above and swept away the gravel under Sam's worn old boots. He cried out and his arms pinwheeled. Tim whirled, grabbing at him, and they both went down. They tumbled, scrambling for purchase on the loose rock and scrub. Sam felt a sickening lurch as he went over a drop, then excruciating pain in his left leg followed by the impact of Tim landing half on top of him. His breath was knocked from his lungs, but his mind ran through assessment of his condition and Tim's.

"Sam, are you okay?" Tim asked, gasping, rolling off of him to a kneeling position. Sam was relieved Tim was conscious, but even more relieved when that he was finally able to take a breath.

"Yeah," he groaned. "But I landed badly."

"How? Where?"

"Ankle, I think. Left one."

Tim reached for Sam's leg, ignoring his aching muscles and bumps sure to bruise.

"Ah!" Sam yelped.

"Your boots are shit, man. No ankle support, tread's worn away. You aren't gonna be going anywhere," Tim assessed.

"Damnit! Well we can't stay here," Sam grumbled.

"You'll have to. Let me take a look around. Be right back."

"Be careful, Tim."

Tim gave Sam a tight smile and rose. He looked around, wiping the rain from his face and beginning to scan the area. Sam wouldn't be able to go far, so Tim looked for the driest place that was least affected by the wind. There was a cluster of pine trees near a rock outcropping about twenty feet away, and Tim decided that was it. He tried to ignore the feeling of helplessness that was stirring. His equipment was gone, they were soaking wet, and the night temperature would surely plummet. Sam was injured, he had no idea how badly, they were far into the backcountry, and now they were down in a ravine Tim had no idea if he could climb out of.

"You find something?" Sam called.

Tim realized he'd been staring at the would-be shelter, brooding, instead of making anything productive happen. He felt a phantom Gibbs-slap and went back to Sam.

"Yeah. It's not great, but it's marginally drier and mostly out of the wind. What kind of equipment do you have? I'd like to level out the ground a little."

Sam awkwardly moved and pulled his canvas backpack off and dug inside. "I've got a folding mini shovel... Here." He showed Tim how it adjusted for digging or trenching.

"Sweet!" Tim admired. "I'll have to buy one of those." He headed over to his chosen area and began to work.

Sam smiled. Tim never failed to rise to a challenge and remain optimistic throughout. Other times when they'd met had seen them facing things beyond Tim's imagination, and each time he'd stepped up. He didn't laugh in the face of death like Dean, but he just kept working, fighting, trying; Tim never gave up believing they'd make it.

It was time to see how functional his ankle was, Sam decided. He carefully tried to rotate it. Pain shot up his leg and his body jerked. He pushed forward, pointing his toes: more pain, not quite as bad. He knew it was possible that the joint would take his standing weight even badly sprained but would be terribly painful to walk on, especially over uneven ground. It was also possible he would be unable to put any pressure on it at all. He needed to know which it was. He scooted over to one of the small scrub pine trees and started to haul himself upright.

"What are you doing?!" Tim hurried back over and grabbed Sam's arm, steadying him and helping him rise.

"I just need to know how bad it is," Sam replied. He set his foot down gingerly and slowly added his weight to it. It hurt, burning pain radiating nearly to his groin, but it held. He nodded to himself and tried to take a careful step. He felt a sickening pop and started to collapse. Tim's grip kept him from a face plant, but only just.

"Whoa!" Tim caught Sam around the chest and lowered him back to sit down. Sam breathed through gritted teeth until the agony subsided. "Now you know," Tim stated, pursing his lips and giving a head shake. "Can you stay put for two more minutes? I'm almost done."

Sam sighed and clenched his fists in frustration. "Yeah, I'll wait." Tim went back to work. He brought Sam's pack to their shelter and unfastened the bundle strapped to the bottom. It was three wool US Army blankets. He spread one over the bed of pine needles he'd mounded up to insulate them from the ground. He set the other two blankets aside and returned to Sam. The hunter held his hand out and Tim pulled him to standing as Sam balanced on his good leg. He ducked under Sam's arm, and they lurched to the sheltering trees.

Sitting shoulder to shoulder, they waited through the storm. The light faded further as night came on. Sam started out thinking about the supplies he had and how to stretch them for two, but his mind wandered away from the practical and just went into the pleasant, neutral state he sometimes adopted when he and Dean weren't coming or going or researching. Or fighting with each other. Upon reflection, he found he couldn't remember the last time they'd been that good together. It was nice to be with someone who acted as a partner without grousing or criticizing.

Sam noticed when Tim began shivering. "Dude, here, wrap up," he insisted, grabbing one of the blankets and putting it across Tim's shoulders. Tim pulled it tight around himself, the smell of wet wool and wood smoke coming faintly to his nose. It was a reassuring scent.

"Thanks," Tim said. He'd been timing the lightning and thunder to see if the storm seemed to be moving on or not. He hadn't noticed that he'd become chilled until he'd started shivering. Sam realized he was cold also and he pulled the other blanket around himself.

The rain began to slacken as full night descended.

"We should try to sleep," Tim said. He was freezing, even with the blanket wrapped around him. The only part of him that was warm at all was his shoulder where Sam sat close. He was too self-conscious to suggest they share the two blankets, so he gritted his teeth and resigned himself to merely surviving through a miserable night.

"Yeah. We're gonna have to share, man," Sam said, making it sound like the logical suggestion it was. Tim hesitated, nonplussed he had thought the same thing but hadn't said it.

"Uh, okay," Tim replied dumbly. He heard Sam snort a laugh.

"I've had to share just about everything with Dean one time or another. We'll make do."

The rearranged the blankets so two covered them, leaving the one beneath and settling in side by side. Both men were too tall: two pairs of boots stuck out the bottom when they drew the blankets to their chins, and with silent accord, they rolled over to lay back to back, knees bent so they could get fully under the coverings.

They slowly warmed up, and Tim found the strong presence literally at his back reassuring. As they slept, the storm passed on, leaving the night clear and cold.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The muted light of dawn brought Sam slowly to awareness. He groggily opened his eyes and his lips curved at the sight of Tim's face, inches away, mouth set in a pout with his lower lip jutting out. Somehow in the night they'd ended up face to face. Emotion warmed Sam's chest. Tim's eyes fluttered open and he smiled.

"Morning," Tim said, stretching. Sam cleared his throat and shook himself.

"Yeah, morning."

"Well that was less awkward than I thought it might be," Tim said, and sat up.

"Yeah, necessity makes strange bedfellows, huh," Sam agreed. Tim cocked an eyebrow at the mixed quotation but didn't say anything. "Just so long as politics isn't the mother of invention, right?" Sam continued and Tim chuckled. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to spend time with a clever, intelligent person who wasn't obsessed with movies, but instead was well read.

"I'm glad it's you I'm stuck out here with, Tim," Sam said, unknowingly mirroring Tim's thoughts.

"Our luck would've been better if it'd been my pack we saved. I had a satellite phone," Tim replied regretfully. His worries over how they would get out were returning.

"And your mummy bag, so we'd have been much too cozy last night." Sam sat up and awkwardly started bundling the wool blankets back into a sleeping roll where he sat, careful of his ankle.

"But warmer. Damn, it gets cold up here at night," Tim rubbed his arms. Sam tossed one of the blankets at him, and Tim fumbled and held onto it.

"Wrap up for a while longer. You like protein bars?" Sam rummaged in his pack. "We'd better ration, but we should be ok." He tossed Tim one of the food bars.

"I could climb back up and over: see if I can find my pack," Tim offered.

"It's gone, man. Let's just get out of here."

Tim shook his head. "Then I should double time it and hike out, bring back a rescue."

Sam thought about a helicopter, police, cameras. He was pretty sure he had at least one outstanding warrant in Colorado. "I kind of need to avoid the authorities," Sam replied. Tim looked hard at him.

"How wanted are you?"

"You'll have to tell me, we don't really look it up."

Tim shook his head. "You know, I can try to help."

"I won't ask you to break the law for me, Tim. You've worked hard to get where you are."

Tim flushed a little at that. It was true, but he didn't want to discuss his day job. He found his desire to share his more personal passion with Sam resurfacing. "I've been writing. Pretty successfully. Did you know that?"

"No! That's cool, Tim. So you aren't drowning in debt with your expensive backpack and boots, and that car I saw. I'm glad," Sam said sincerely. He felt proud of his friend, almost proprietary. "You'll have to give me the titles so I can check them out."

"I'll give you copies, or send them to you digitally," Tim said, inordinately pleased by Sam's response. Support for his 'other job' wasn't something he'd ever gotten from the people he cared about. The moment stretched out, his smile and the warm, unfamiliar pleasure of solidarity finally made him feel self-conscious. He cleared his throat. "How's your ankle?"

"Well, with a splint and a walking stick, I should be fine."

"Are you kidding?" Tim deadpanned, staring hard at him.

"...no, why? I've fought with worse than this, dude."

"Okay, tough guy, maybe so, but you hollered when I touched that ankle yesterday, and you groaned in your sleep when I bumped your leg at the knee. I'm thinking travois."

"No way."

Tim turned away, certain Sam didn't think he'd be capable of dragging the bigger man out. He'd worked hard the last few years to lose weight and build his strength and stamina; he was sure he'd manage but felt a familiar nerdy shame.

"Tim?" Sam saw Tim's shoulders slump and hunch and he frowned. "I don't mean anything by that. I...I'm gonna need your help to get outta here, but this really isn't that bad," he tried to explain.

Tim turned back uncertainly. "I'm tougher than I look," he said, not wanting to sound whiny but needing to say something in his defense.

"Man, we've spent the last two days hiking together. I've seen how strong you are; I haven't slowed my pace for you at all."

Tim smiled tightly and shrugged, shaking himself. "I better find you some wood for a splint and crutch."

Sticks for a splint were no problem. They strapped them on either side of Sam's boot with paracord and he was amazed how much more stable and less painful the injury was with just that support. He tried again to walk but found that the relief the splint lent wasn't enough to allow him to put weight on his leg, merely to make it tolerable to hold it up and hop. Unfortunately, without an ax to cut a long straight branch, their choices for a walking stick or crutch were severely limited. The pieces of deadwood of appropriate size weren't strong enough to hold Sam's weight. They found one piece to function like a cane, but it was extremely difficult for Sam to get any speed at all with it.

Tim was carrying all of the supplies, of course, but as they tried to make their way out of the ravine by following it downward, Sam slipped and slid on the loose gravel. Every time he had to put his left foot down to steady himself, he regretted it as pain lanced up his leg.

"Sam, stop," Tim ordered. "You're not gonna make it like that." He took in Sam's pale, pinched face and the sweat already standing out on his forehead.

"There's no way to get a travois over this terrain, even if you could find poles for one," Sam stated preemptively.

"I know that. That's not what I was going to suggest."

Sam frowned. "What then?"

Tim came close beside him and drew Sam's arm over his shoulders. He reached to the far side of Sam's waist and gripped his belt firmly. "Let's try this," Tim said. "Use the stick to steady yourself, but let me take your weight."

Sam took a deep breath and held it for a long moment before deflating. "Alright," he muttered. "We'll try it."

On the more open ground, it worked well as they established a rhythm. Through trees and rocks it was still awkward, but they made much better time with less pain for Sam than before. They had to stop to rest often, but both agreed it was better the taller Sam needed to use Tim as a crutch than the other way around. The four inches difference in their heights made the prospect of spending days hiking this way slightly less daunting.

By the time the sun was shining down into the ravine, they were well on their way to getting out of it. In the early afternoon they finally had enough of a view of the surrounding area to attempt to orient themselves on Sam's topo map. They argued good naturedly about which landforms they were identifying, but finally agreed on the general direction they needed to head.

Their progress was slow and painful for both of them. As the afternoon waned, Tim started looking for a good shelter. They discussed the merits and drawbacks of various spots and finally agreed to stop for the night beneath a rock overhang where a patina of old smoke from campfires rose above.

Tim did his best to prepare the shelter, making a bed of pine boughs to lay their base blanket over. He went down to a trickle of water they'd seen and returned with a pan full they boiled over Sam's tiny camp stove. Sam directed Tim to bring some pine needles and they made tea.

"It takes away the flat taste from the boiled water and gives a bit of nutrients," Sam explained.

"Sounds good. How are the rest of your supplies?" Tim sat beside Sam, hands clasped with his elbows hooked over his bent knees.

Sam laid the supplies out, mostly protein bars and jerky. Tim made Sam take some aspirin from the small first aid kit, and they chewed on a meal of jerky as the light faded.

"Tell me more about your family, Tim. How are they?" Sam asked.

Tim talked about his sister and mom, glossing over his father as always. He ended up going over the whole mess when Sarah had been drugged and suspected of murder. He shook still with the memory of the awful incident. Sam gripped his shoulder in sympathy, keeping his hand there until Tim needed to excuse himself to take a leak. It felt natural to be in close contact after what they'd been through.

They started the night back to back again, but in the morning, Tim woke half spooned against Sam's back. Together, with body heat and the blankets, they'd been staying warm enough, if rather intimate. He sighed, breathing in the smell of both their bodies and damp wool. He wrinkled his nose and sat up. He left Sam to sleep and went to gather wood for a fire.

Sam woke to the crackling of a decent sized campfire. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked and had to laugh. Tim sat in his underwear, huddled near the fire, his clothing on sticks catching the smoke.

"I don't have a change of clothes," Tim said defensively. Sam just shook his head but still sniffed.

"I guess we are pretty ripe," Sam conceded. He tossed one of the blankets to Tim and scooted closer to the fire, then he stripped both his shirts off. Tim offered him sticks, and Sam hung his clothing up as well. He wrapped up in the other blanket and smiled at his companion. Tim had gratefully pulled the blanket around himself. He took notice the tattoo on Sam's chest. Sam saw his gaze.

"Anti-possession tat. You should get one: better safe than sorry," Sam explained. Tim smiled. He'd also noticed that Sam did indeed have the extreme fitness and defined musculature of a Navy Seal. He wondered vaguely how many hours a week Sam worked out.

Sam yawned hugely, and Tim pushed the half portion of pine-needle tea he'd made in Sam's dented tin pot toward him. Sam nodded gratefully and slowly sipped it.

"I was thinking: are we making your injury worse? I can still double time it to my car and call for help..." Tim asked.

"We'll be fine. If you're up for it, I think we'll be back at the trail head tomorrow afternoon," Sam protested.

"I think you're being optimistic. It'll be two more nights out here," Tim argued. Sam shrugged.

"Either way, I think we'll be okay. You really are pretty tough, man," Sam praised. Tim glanced at him suspiciously then recognized once again that Sam wasn't like his other friends. This wasn't a setup so he could then be knocked back with a punch line.

"Thank you," he said softly. Sam frowned, having observed the reaction, but remained silent.

The fire burned down, they dressed, laughing together when they both received small burns from the metal rivets on their clothes, Tim on his jeans and Sam the snaps on his shirt. The warm cloth felt good in the still cold morning, and Tim was pleased at the improvement to the smells which had bothered him.

They split the last of Sam's trail mix for breakfast and got moving again. The day was slower to warm up than the previous ones had been. Clouds occluded the brilliant blue of the high altitude sky, and they moved a bit slower, sluggish in response to the grey day. The wind had picked up when they stopped for a lunch of beef jerky.

"Think it'll rain again?" Sam asked.

"Maybe. Probably won't storm again, at least. We should watch for a better shelter tonight, though. It'll be much colder."

"You been doing okay at night?"

Tim blushed, recalling waking spooned against Sam's broad back. "Yeah."

"Good. I've got a knit hat you can wear if you need it." Sam smiled. "Another advantage of my hair: my neck stays warm."

Tim's eyes wandered to Sam's hair and he shook his head, amazed how neat it still looked after all this time. The scruff Sam had grown on his face gave him a slightly sinister air, and Tim rubbed his own jaw and chin, feeling his patchy stubble.

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

By midafternoon a slow drizzle had begun, and they looked in earnest for shelter. A cluster of the huge ponderosa pine trees, with the sheltering boughs and dry bed of needles beneath looked to be their best bet, and they settled in early. The rain came and went, and while the breeze was cold, they sat close, blankets around their shoulders, and were comfortable. They each ate a protein bar, and Sam silently revealed they had one more bar each and a few strips of jerky. Before the light faded, the men studied their progress on the map and Sam conceded that Tim's estimate was correct and they'd be out on the trail for another night after this one.

Once the light faded, their conversation dwindled. Tim suggested they try to get to sleep and they settled down back to back.

"I know it probably sounds crazy, but... This is a great vacation for me, Sam," Tim said quietly into the darkness.

"Not crazy. I'm really enjoying spending time with you."

Tim looked out into the night. The clouds blocked moon and stars, and with no reflected lights from man-made sources, the velvety blackness made him shiver.

Sam turned over and threw his arm over Tim, tucking the blanket tighter against him. Tim opened his mouth to explain his shudder, but the cocooning effect was warm and comforting, so he refrained. "Thanks," he said instead.

"Mm-huh," Sam sighed, his breath deepening with sleep.

"I'm so glad I'm out here with you, not anyone else," Tim kept his voice soft, uncertain if Sam was still awake. He consciously began to catalogue this experience for himself, making it a memory exercise to recall every detail since the moment he'd turned and seen Sam approach him at that first overlook. Ordering it in his mind calmed him, and he began to drift off.

"Yeah, m'glad too," Sam murmured, and the long delayed response, mumbled words, and heaviness of Sam's arm draped over him made Tim smile at his sleep talking.

"Goodnight my friend," Tim whispered.

"Nigh'."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam woke in the cold dawn and blinked slowly. He felt Tim pressed against his back with his warm breath stirring the hair just above his shirt collar. He smiled, pleased Tim seemed to have gotten over his shyness at their need to sleep close for warmth. Sam yawned and he felt Tim stir, the arm resting at Sam's waist withdrawing first, then the body heat vanishing too as Tim rolled away and sat up. The yawn ended in a sigh of disappointment and a shiver.

Tim hesitated when he felt Sam shiver. He lay back down, facing up into the tangle of branches above them and tucked the blanket closer against Sam's shoulders.

"Thanks," Sam grunted.

"Damn cold this morning," Tim commented. "I could build a fire and get us a warm drink," he suggested.

"Na. We get moving and we'll warm up soon enough," Sam said. He sighed again and they sat up.

Back on the trail, they moved slowly, sore muscles from the strange gait limping and supporting taking time to loosen up.

"You've spent twenty-plus years crisscrossing the country, right?" Tim began. He'd been trying to find the best way to breach what he was pretty sure would be a sensitive topic with Sam.

"Uh-huh."

"So what's your favorite state?"

Sam considered. Years ago he'd have said California. The Stanford years were a golden, almost dream-like time, but they barely felt real anymore. Dean would probably say Kansas; that was still home for him.

"I don't know. Guess I don't have one."

That was what Tim expected. "Then where's home?"

Sam's mind went to the houses he'd shared with Jess and then Amelia, but neither gave him the sense of peace and solidity he imagined a home should. He shrugged. There was only one constant in his life.

"With Dean, I guess," he finally replied.

"Hmm," Tim sounded. Sam looked at his friend and could tell he was chewing on an opinion. He waited.

"Do you think you want a family of your own at some point?" Tim asked at last. Sam had been ready for advice or judgment, not a question. But this was Tim, he should have known the kindest man he'd ever known wouldn't go there. They kept moving and Tim waited while Sam pondered.

"I did, once. Then I thought maybe... All I have, my only constant, is my brother. I don't really try to see beyond that anymore," Sam admitted. Tim was quiet for a long time.

"Why are you out on this hike? You said something about perspective."

"What I do, what we do, it allows normal people to lead normal lives. I...I let go of that, when I quit last year. Tried to be normal. Dean's back, though, so... This is what we do, and I need to remember how important it is."

"It seems like you're struggling with that, Sam," Tim spoke softly, gently, and Sam was utterly certain his friend held nothing but concern for him. It touched him deeply that this remarkable man cared as much as he did.

"Yeah, I guess I am, but this is my choice."

Tim hesitated, then said the only thing he felt he could. "Yes, your choice. And you can also choose differently. Please don't forget that."

Sam nodded and they walked on.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Over an early lunch of one protein bar split in half, they looked at the map.

"Midday tomorrow you think?" Sam asked. Tim ran his finger along their remaining distance and glanced again at the scale symbol. The subdued way Sam asked told Tim how shaken Sam was from their earlier conversation.

"Yes. We'll reach the trail head mid-day tomorrow and I'll drive you to the hospital," Tim said confidently, choosing to reassure Sam.

Sam continued to be contemplative through the afternoon, and Tim guided them along. He picked a camping spot and directed Sam to it. Tim gathered wood and pine needles for tea and they sat and enjoyed the heat and comfort of a fire as night fell. They finished the jerky for dinner, and while they were both still hungry, the meal would be enough to help them sleep without gnawing pangs.

"Do you want a family?" Sam asked, seemingly out of the blue.

"I want someone to share my life with. I just haven't found the right person, I guess. I feel like my team is my family right now, and with the hours we keep, that's probably a good thing. I'd love to get to the point of coming home to someone, but kids? I'm not around enough to be a parent," Tim answered, rambling a bit as he grew tired.

Sam smiled. "So yes and no?"

"Exactly."

The fire burned down. Tim made sure it was out completely, and they settled down for the night.

"I heard what you said, about choices. I'll try to remember," Sam said quietly into the darkness.

Tim smiled a little, glad that was what Sam had been brooding over. That an individual had a choice in every moment was some of the greatest wisdom he'd ever come upon. "Good. Sleep well, my friend."

"You too, Tim," Sam turned over so he was facing Tim's back. "Thank you."

Tim fell asleep, feeling good. Sam lay there thinking for a while longer before he too succumbed.

A sound woke Tim hours later. It was an eerie yipping, the sound bouncing around the canyons. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and even though he was pretty sure it was nothing more than coyotes, his blood began to rush with fear. He lay still for a while, but the sounds grew even stranger. Finally, he decided to ask Sam for his opinion.

"Sam? Are you awake?" Tim asked.

"Mmm. Wha's wrong?"

"Those noises. Is it coyotes, do you think?"

Sam's strong arm wrapped over Tim, and the big hunter pulled him close against his chest. Tim's eyes widened. "S'ok, Tim. You're safe," Sam said. Tim blinked in shock as he felt Sam's warm breath against the back of his neck and the distinct sensation of Sam's lips kissing the back of his head. Sam tucked him more firmly in his embrace and said nothing more.

Tim swallowed hard. What a strange thing for Sam to do. Was he even awake? Tim knew Sam was much more comfortable with physical closeness with another man from growing up with only a dad and brother than he was, but a kiss... Being held tightly like this was comforting. He knew it was a physiological response, though he'd rarely experienced it. He felt good. Safe. Drowsy. He'd think about it more tomorrow...

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The sun peeked across the horizon and hit Sam full in the face. He blinked awake. He was warm and cozy. He smiled.

Tim had woken several minutes before and had chosen to lay still. He was facing Sam, his head snuggled under his chin, and not only were both of Sam's arms twined around him, Sam's good leg was hooked over both of Tim's. Waking in such a position precluded extracting himself without disturbing Sam. He wasn't sure if Sam would be embarrassed by their intimacy or if he would take it in stride. He was tentatively beginning to admit to himself how good it felt when Sam's breathing changed and Tim knew he was awake.

When it registered in Sam's mind that he was wrapped completely around Tim, his eyebrow cocked in surprise. He sniffed and rolled back, stretching. Tim's head was still pillowed on his arm, but Sam figured if he woke now, Tim would probably feel more comfortable than he would have otherwise.

Tim cleared his throat and sat up. "Morning," he said.

"Good morning. Hmm. Last day. I'm bummed we never found those ruins," Sam replied.

"Maybe we can come back sometime," Tim suggested.

"I'd like that."

"Yeah, me too."

They split the last protein bar and continued to ignore the intimacy of their waking posture.

Having hooked back up to their original outgoing trail on the previous afternoon, they stopped at the overlook where they'd met when they needed a break.

"I'm actually sorry this is ending," Sam said, looking out over the view. "It's been so good to spend time with you again." Sam clapped Tim on the back, squeezing his shoulder affectionately before reluctantly releasing him.

Tim smiled at his friend. "I know. Quite the mountain adventure here, but damn good company."

Sam found himself blushing at the compliment. They continued on, and Sam realized he had something he needed to say but wasn't sure how. He wrestled for a while, then sighed.

"You okay? Need a break?" Tim asked. Sam smiled. It was so different to be in this situation with someone other than Dean, someone who acted more as a caretaker than a drill sergeant.

"No, I just... Yesterday, you tried to give me a different perspective about home and my life - "

"I know. Too much? Don't think I was judging you or - "

"No, no. It's more like, I want to return the favor," Sam said. Tim cringed inwardly. No matter how nice Sam generally was, this could be a painful roast. "It's not bad," Sam reassured as he felt the tension in Tim, revealing his reaction. "You said you're in the best shape of your life, and man, I can tell. You look great, and you've carried my ass off this mountain. But the important change is... You. It's like you're comfortable with who you are now. You already know you're so damn smart, but you've gotten tough without losing your empathy, you're physically fit, and you're just...confident. You're the man I saw in you when I saw you last, if that doesn't sound too arrogant or something. You...Tim, you're an incredible person." Sam could feel his face was hot with an extreme blush. He didn't know if he'd gone too far.

"Sam...I don't know what to say to that. Thank you. I... I really respect you-I don't want you to think I was criticizing you yesterday-and your opinion truly matters to me. Thank you."

They shifted away from the serious topics back to their easy discussions of computers and people, and before the sun reached its zenith, they arrived at Tim's car. Grateful that he always kept his keys in his pocket, Tim unlocked the car and opened the door for Sam. He ducked into the back seat where his suitcase for hotels was and snagged two granola bars before he got into the driver's seat and powered up his cell phone.

Sam gratefully settled into the passenger seat of Tim's car. Tim handed him a granola bar and began grumbling as he listened to voicemails and scanned text messages.

"Crap! I've got to get back to work ASAP. Crisis," Tim finally said to Sam. Sam shifted.

"No problem. Let me call Dean and let him know to come and get me and you can-" Sam started to get out of the car.

"No! Sam, sit down. I'll go to the nearest airport after I drop you at an ER. I'd hoped to stay with you until Dean got there, but..."

Sam warmed at Tim's consideration. "Dude, that's fine. Thank you."

Tim distractedly started the car, his mind already whirling, problem solving, anticipating for the case. Sam's assumption finally registered.

"Wait-you didn't really believe I'd just leave you at the trail head, did you?" The idea that Sam imagined he thought so little of their relationship as to abandon him was deeply disturbing to Tim.

Sam shrugged. "Dean would come..."

"Sam! That's not the point."

Sam sat quietly as Tim drove the winding road out of the backcountry. Tim seemed upset, but Sam wasn't sure what to say. Several miles passed.

"You aren't a burden to be dumped the instant I'm needed elsewhere," Tim said at last. "I want this time to be different. I want to stay in touch. You...I think you're probably the best friend I've ever had," he finished softly.

Sam felt tears prick his eyes at that. "Thanks, Tim." He thought about their previous meetings, and about how often he'd wondered where Tim was, what he was doing, through his life. "You're a really important part of my life. One of the only unequivocal positives."

"A light," Tim murmured.

"What?"

"You said that the first night. You said I was a light."

"I did? Well, yeah." Sam frowned. "When did I say that?"

"You were falling asleep the first night."

"Huh. Must be true then."

Tim swallowed hard. The words Sam had spoken to him in the middle of the night were likely more unremembered sleep talk. He again considered talking with Sam about what had happened, but he couldn't figure out how to start or even what to say about it. He was conflicted about how he'd felt at the time anyway. Waking to feel Sam's leg over his and both his arms wrapped around him hadn't felt much stranger than some of the other ways they'd woken, and the heat radiating from Sam had made him the most comfortable he'd been the whole trip. The reassurance had been nice, but the kiss had been weird. He would have chalked it up to mistaken identity save Sam hadn't had slept regularly with anyone for six months, and he had said Tim's name.

"Why don't I put my numbers in your phone?" Sam suggested. Tim nodded, still distracted. Sam picked the device up. "What's your passcode?"

"Uh," Tim hesitated. Many of his passcodes were variances of Sam's name: a friend from childhood, one he'd never talked to anyone about, it made sense for security and ease of recollection.

"You can change it as soon as you drop me off, I just want to add my numbers," Sam said.

"I know. Sorry," Tim mumbled. "5269." It was unlikely Sam would realize the code had a five for an S and then the numbers for A-M-W.

Sam put his contact numbers into Tim's phone. "I'm gonna put Dean in as well. In case you need me and can't reach me. Our numbers change, so I'll keep you updated."

"Burn phones?"

"Yeah, sometimes. Hijacked numbers, stolen - Well, just don't ask, okay?"

Tim rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Okay if I call myself so I get your number?"

"Of course," Tim said. He bit his lip then continued. "And I expect you to use it. I really do want to keep in touch this time." It was true. No matter the weirdness of the night before and the difficulties, he had had a fantastic visit spending time with Sam.

"I'll try. Having a friend who's outside the life can be tough. We've had people be targeted because of their association with us," Sam admitted. He wanted to stay in contact with Tim. He was a great listener, incredibly smart, and made Sam feel as if he truly mattered in a positive way. It felt good. Healthy.

Tim had a little half smile as he glanced over at Sam. "I put away killers for a living; I think I can take care of myself. If it gets out of my purview, I promise to call you in as an expert." Sam sighed. "Seriously, Sam, I don't want you to ever have that be your reason to not let me see or talk to you. It's a risk I'll gladly take. Your friendship is well worth it."

"If you ever need me for anything, Tim, I will be there for you."

Tim shook his head, acutely aware that Sam hadn't agreed to stay in contact. He drove on, feeling like sands in an hourglass were inevitably running out.

Pulling into the bay of the ER at the small regional hospital, Tim felt his stomach knot. Sam sat silently, knowing he had to get out, had to let Tim go, but not wanting their time to end.

Tim cleared his throat but no words followed. In his peripheral vision, he watched Sam start to tense up. After the storm, Sam had been completely relaxed while they struggled to get back to civilization. Now, it was like that first night as the darkness crept in. Tim swallowed hard, hurting to see his friend founder. He turned to say something to Sam just when Sam opened the door and swung his legs out.

"Hold up! I'll get a wheelchair," Tim said quickly. Sam nodded, and Tim helplessly did as he said. A nurse accompanied him back to the car, but it was Tim who steadied Sam as he stood up and pivoted to get into the chair. Sam held onto Tim's arm for an extra second, and their eyes met. Tim's concern for him was palpable, and Sam's expression was clearly troubled. They let go slowly, and the nurse's exclamation about the stick and paracord splint on Sam's leg and chatter about having seen worse broke the moment. Tim got Sam's pack out of the back seat and Sam took it from him. They both ignored the nurse's nattering, and Sam held his hand out to shake. Tim took it, holding tight, then leaned down to hug him.

"Take care of yourself," Sam said softly.

"You, too, Sam. Please...call me," Tim requested, probably in vain.

Sam nodded as Tim stood and stepped away. The nurse backed the chair up and took Sam through the sliding doors. Tim rubbed his face, feeling somehow empty, and got back in the car.

Time to get back to real life.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

"So nice of you to join us, McGrizzly Adams," DiNozzo snarked when Tim entered the squad room. Tim sighed and dropped his things at his desk, glad he'd washed, shaved, and changed at the airport. He was sure he still had an overwhelming scent of wood smoke about him, but it was better than scruff and filthy clothes. "Boss wants you in MTAC."

"Welcome back, McGee," Ziva said quietly as he went for the stairs. He felt her eyes on him as he climbed.

"Thanks," he replied. Before he'd boarded the plane, he'd emailed Sam a digital copy of his novels, enjoying the thought of Sam reading Thom E Gemcity's stories. The flight had been taken up by getting caught up on the crisis, and Tim knew that it was unlikely he'd see his bed this night. At least he'd slept well after the strange reassurance from Sam the previous night. He checked his phone and sighed again that Sam hadn't called or texted. He sent a message asking for an update before stashing it and entering MTAC.

14 hours later, having coordinated for six of those hours with Eric and Nell in Los Angeles, Tim watched and listened as Agents Hannah and Callen took down the terrorist sleeper cell. He was dismissed with a curt 'good job' from Director Vance, and followed Gibbs out of the dark and back down to the squad room.

"Go home, McGee," Gibbs ordered. Tim gathered his gear and shuffled to the elevator. He checked his phone on the ride down and thrilled at the text from Sam.

S-Ankle not broken. Back to the life. Thx.-

Tim grinned all the way home.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam found himself relegated to research only for the next two weeks while his ankle healed to the point that he could limp around on it without crutches. Combing through news reports from around the country, he was drawn to stories in the D.C. area as well as ones involving Navy or Marine personnel, wondering if Tim was involved. He read the Deep Six novels and knew he was getting a bigger glimpse into Tim than the average reader would. His friend was on his mind constantly, but he chalked it up to a touch of PTSD. The dreams were harder to explain, and he tried to ignore or forget them.

Tim worked hard, his normal hectic schedule keeping him busy for his typical 12-14 hour days punctuated by 36-48 hour marathons during critical cases. He tried to write but found he couldn't drum up enough interest in the story he'd begun. Instead, he searched out the Supernatural books and read the entire series, including the more recent digital installments, unprinted but obviously written by the same author. Researching further, he pieced together information not contained in the stories. His heart ached for the trials Sam had endured and the guilt he carried for his mistakes. The twisted yet precious bond he had with Dean worried Tim, but he knew there was no easy answers to improving the situation. Reading about Sam's relationship with Amelia was almost as unsettling, but Tim couldn't pinpoint why.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam's first case after he was free from crutches was a simple haunting in Iowa. Dean complained about having to do all of the digging to burn the bones, but Sam could tell his brother was glad he was back to work. They returned to their motel and Dean claimed the first shower. Sam lay down on his bed to wait his turn but fell quickly asleep with one of the vivid, Tim-centric dreams beginning almost immediately. They were together in a park, no, a garden, no, a rooftop patio; it fluctuated. In all settings they were always touching, usually with Sam's arm around Tim's shoulders, Tim's hand at his waist as they had been for the days of returning from their mountain adventure. It felt natural, warm and safe, to Sam. Tim turned his head and looked at him, and Sam felt his breath catch. Those light eyes, ever shifting blue to green to crystalline clear, had such an open, accepting and joyful expression in them. Sam leaned closer, needing to breathe that in, to feel it, to touch-

Dean woke him, smacking him in his boots. His eyes flew open and he sat up abruptly.

"Dude, chill. Shower's yours."

Sam looked around, less disoriented than disturbed, then rubbed his face. "Okay, uh, yeah." He shook his head, unsure what had been about to happen in the dream.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Tim dropped onto his sofa with a sigh. He'd barely had the energy to eat the burrito he'd gotten from the drive thru on his way home. Knowing he should get up and undress and get to bed, still he laid his head back and closed his eyes. Sleep drew him into the same dream he'd been having for weeks. Sam walked ahead of him on a dark city street at night. He knew the shape of his friend's body, his gait, how his hair glinted as he passed under the streetlights. Feeling no need to call out to him, Tim merely followed, watching. The street was suddenly residential and Sam turned up a walk.-Tim closed the front door behind himself, setting keys and coat in their appointed places. The little time jumps seem completely normal. He mounted the stairs then-stepped out of the shower. Towel around his hips, he then-found himself clad in a t-shirt and boxers lying in bed. Heavy arms encircled him and he snuggled back against a broad chest, the scent familiar and comforting.

Tim woke, opening his eyes to the dim light in his apartment. He sighed. Again. He'd dreamed it again. Feeling chilled, he climbed to his feet and went to bed. As he drifted back to sleep, his aloneness left him feeling hollow.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

This particular demon was more hands-on, less 'throw them against the walls with an invisible force', and had Sam on the floor of the sterile lab, choking him. Little lights were exploding in his vision, and red crawlers were starting at the edges. From experience, Sam knew he had less than a minute before he lost consciousness. Lungs burning, he struggled to break the hold on his throat, but his mind began to detach. He could die here. Dean was locked out of the secure clean room, and the demon would likely dispose of Sam as he had the other victims: using the incinerator. Dean would freak out and try to take the demon on by himself. If he succeeded, he'd try once again to resurrect Sam. If he failed... Tim would never know what had happened. His friend would wait for Sam to call or text or email, and Sam knew it would hurt Tim enormously if that contact never came. Dean wouldn't know to notify him, Sam still hadn't told his brother about him, and Tim'd just wait and wait and believe Sam had blown him off, written him out of his life. It was horrible. It couldn't happen that way. Taking the risk that the demon would crush his throat, Sam let go of the hold on its wrists and slapped the demon on both ears, rupturing its eardrums. In shock, the demon's hold loosened enough for Sam to take a breath and he whipped his leg around in a wrestling move, catching the demon in the throat with his thigh and quickly reversing their positions. The demon killing knife Sam had been trying to get to when the demon had caught him was now in reach, and Sam snatched it up and slammed it into the creature's chest.

Sam and Dean left the research facility in stolen lab coats and made it back to their motel without incident. Sam's voice was a froggy, painful croak, and he skipped trying to eat anything that night. After Sam's two and Dean's six beers, Dean rolled into bed and fell asleep. Sam considered booting up his laptop to send an email to Tim but settled on a text. It was after two in the morning in DC, but Sam knew there was a fair chance the hard working Tim would be awake.

S-Read your books. Thumbs up!-

Sam got ready for bed, and smiled when his phone buzzed as he was turning off the light.

T-Thx! Good to hear from you. Working?-

S-Finished a case. U?-

T-No we're on cold cases-only 8 hr days. At hm playing game online-

S-going to bed now. U should 2-

T-will do. Good night-

S-night-

Sam settled under the covers, and he couldn't get the idea from his mind that Tim was heading off to sleep as well. Sam had always liked sharing a bed when he was in a relationship. Amelia had been a restless sleeper, but he missed having a warm body beside him. The forced intimacy of sleeping close to Tim on their mountain adventure had given Sam some of the best, most restful sleep he'd had in years. He pulled the extra pillow from beside his head and hugged it as he drifted off.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

It was after eleven at night, not too late compared to some of Tim's evenings at work, but Tim was tired. The case had been difficult emotionally, with two brothers who had served together as Marines for years. Trying to get to the bottom of which had committed manslaughter had been frustratingly difficult. Each could have done it, but both claimed responsibility, claiming the deed as a solo act to attempt to keep his brother out of trouble. It had felt sickeningly familiar watching the dysfunctionally close pair. Tim was driving home, thoughts whirling with his struggle to figure out a way to help Sam disentangle himself from his damaged, alcoholic brother.

The iTunes station he had playing on his iPod had a lot of cover bands, so Tim didn't take special note when an acoustic version of Journey's Separate Ways came on. He tapped the steering wheel with the haunting piano, thoughts still on Sam. He began humming along as the chorus began, and sang (off key) '-break those chains that bind you/one night will remind you/how we touched and went our separate ways-'

It bothered Tim intensely that he'd shared only a handful of texts with Sam in the month since they'd parted. He worried about Sam, what he was capable of doing for Dean, how he might get hurt and Tim wouldn't even know, let alone be able to help. He had to find a way to interact with Sam more often.

The impassioned vocals rose, and Tim sang along: 'Troubled times/Caught between confusion and pain, pain, pain/Distant eyes/Promises we made were in vain' Tim's breath hitched. 'You'll never walk alone/Take care my love/Miss you love.' He turned into the parking lot at his apartment. 'If he ever hurts you/True love won't desert you/You know I still love you/Though we touched/And went our separate ways.'

Tim had tears in his eyes and he sat in the parking slot for his apartment until the last chords faded. He shook himself and rubbed his face briskly before he went inside. The melody and lyrics chased him, making him melancholy and tense. He took a shower to try to relax so he'd be able to sleep, masturbating as the hot water beat down on his back. He finally rolled into his bed feeling empty and a little lost. If he had the oft repeated dream of the house and sleeping in Sam's embrace, he didn't remember the next morning, but through the day he kept thinking he heard Sam's voice. DiNozzo teased him for being distracted, but Tim ignored him.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam had resumed his running workout, taking it slow, but adding distance every few days. He spent time making playlists to run to, but it only vaguely registered that there was a theme appearing in his music choices. Linkin Park Great Divide, Creed Higher, Aerosmith Dream On, Puddle of Mudd Blurry, The Calling For You; he had worked up to five miles before it occurred to him that his playlist was full of yearning and dreams. Dreams. God, the dreams he was having about Tim! He'd wake and feel such a poignant loss when he realized that he was alone. His mind had shied away from the other effect the dreams had engendered, but he suddenly recognized it might be better to face it. Some latent homosexual tendency might be causing him to fixate on Tim. He changed his route to a popular park and ran the trails there. He made himself take note of the men, gauging his reaction. He could empirically judge the level of attractiveness, but he wasn't getting any visceral or sexual response to anyone. He rounded a curve and a person ahead of him caught his attention. He sped up, trying to analyze what had sparked him. The man wore sweats, and his gait was a shuffling, low impact one. Short light brown hair, a particular shape of his ears, long limbs... He looked like Tim. Sam dropped back immediately and stopped at the next water fountain. He drank, then scooped water over his face then headed out of the park at a brisk walk. Tim. It all came back to Tim.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Music had taken on an edge for Tim as well. After the night he'd been undone by Separate Ways, he grew ever more sensitive. He had to stop using his iPod at his desk after DiNozzo noticed him sniffling through Paul Weller's You Do Something to Me. Abby noticed his mood and asked about his melancholy. He had no answer for her, and her worried eyes followed him relentlessly. He earned more head slaps that week than in any other since he'd been a probie. He felt stretched tight and knew he needed to do something or he'd soon snap.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam's ankle was pretty much completely healed. The occasional twinge was the only reminder. Not that Sam needed the injury to remind him; he'd thought of little else. A quote or computer reference would come to mind and he'd almost say it, but knowing that Dean wouldn't get it, he stayed silent. A man with a similar style or haircut to Tim's would be on the street and Sam would hurry to check if it just might be him. His phone would ring and he'd feel his hopes rise for just a moment before he saw the ID.

Dean had noticed his distraction, grumbling that Sam's vacation was supposed to have cleared his head. Sam ignored him but found numerous indications himself, up to how he slept better holding a pillow, of his strange obsession. Wanting to see those blue-green eyes and hear his voice, yet knowing how weird it was to actually ache missing his friend... He was crawling out of his skin with conflicted thoughts and feelings. He'd never craved anything but demon blood like he did Tim's company. It was getting disturbingly extreme.

"What was Crowley talking about, you being in love or something?" Dean asked. They'd had a run in with the smarmy demon, and as always, his commentary had hit far too close to home. Back at their new lair, the Men of Letters bunker, Dean inconveniently recalled one of the many barbs the King of Hell had tossed their way.

Sam shrugged in reply, but Dean wasn't ready to drop it.

"C'mon, dude, that'd explain your moping and you watching your phone all the time. When'd you meet her? Or is it Her her, that, uh, Amelia chick?"

"No! It's not Amelia, it's not 'some chick', it's not anything. Just Crowley being Crowley," Sam protested, feeling vaguely guilty denying he was thinking of anyone when he couldn't stop thinking about Tim.

"Uh-huh, whatever," Dean grumbled, getting up to go get another beer. Sam sighed. He had to act. It was time. The next morning, he took his phone with him when he went for his run. Three miles from the bunker, he slowed to a walk to let his breath calm before he called.

"Yeah, McGee," Tim answered. Sam's heart suddenly hammered in his chest harder than it had when he was running.

"Hey Tim, it's Sam."

"Oh, hey!" Tim jerked to sit upright from lounging in his gaming chair before his computer. "Sam, it's so good to hear your-" He winced at his phrasing. "It's good to hear from you."

A long moment passed. "How, uh, h-how you been?" Sam stuttered. He rolled his eyes at his awkwardness.

"Good, good. How's your ankle?"

"Fine. Better, I mean."

"That's... Good."

Longer pause.

Sam finally shook himself and straightened his shoulders. He had squared off against Lucifer. He could face this. "I've been thinking about you a lot, Tim."

On the other end, Tim's face flushed bright and he swallowed hard. He looked down and tapped his fingers on his knee.

"I've - I've been thinking, um, you've been on my mind as well."

"Good," Sam huffed in relief. "I mean..."

" - Are you gonna be near D.C. - "

" - I need to talk to you in person - "

They spoke simultaneously.

"Sorry, go ahead," Tim jumped in.

"I just..." Sam's voice trailed off. He wrestled with himself, the Lucifer thing having less weight the second time, then finally took a deep breath. "I need to see you."

"Yes." Tim said instantly and without thought, his voice low. "Where?"

The End

A/N If anyone is interested, the cover of Separate Ways I refered to is by Michael Henry and Justin Robinett. I've put my Sam and Tim playlist on my profile if you're interested in music which inspired this story. I plan to post a series of stories with this pairing, but subsequent installments will be rated M sex. The next in the series is The Winding Road Leads Home, then Heading Out Toward Home, a couple of short flashback stories to the boys' summer at Stanford titled A Long Way to Home and Tim's Long Way to Home, and finally A Candle to Lead You Home.

Home Away From Home is after Candle, a one-shot exploring Gibbs' reaction to the boys.

Please review!