It seems like every day will always be the same. And that's not particularly a good thing. They'll drive to who knows where to ice who knows what and get thanked by strangers. Sometimes they don't even get thanked. He's getting so sick of the motels, diner food, salt and burns, driving in the impala. At the moment, aside from saving people which is great, the only good thing about this job is Dean whom he gets to spend his days with. He will save Dean from the demon deal, he promises himself that. Whenever he thinks about it, his gut twists like a cloth trying to ring out water and he feels like he's being stretched out and thrown across the room, but can't get a hold on anything. It's like he wouldn't belong anywhere without Dean, he'd just shift through towns and life. Dean is his only ever constant that he appreciates.

Dean slowly rounded the corner to pull into the small motel in Illinois at about 8pm just as the sun was setting, the dull sky looming above. The familiar sound of tyres on gravel roused Sam from his slumber mid dream. He kept his head where it was; leaning against the cold glass, but his hazel eyes blinked away the darkness and grogginess that he'd let himself fall into a few hours ago to bring him back to reality. His whole body carried a dull ache from lying too still for too long. He stretched as much as was possible for his lengthy limbs in the compact space of the Impala before picking up the case reports which lay sloppily on his lap and shuffling them into some kind of not ordered order. They were the same as any other case reports he's held on his lap about a million times; just another town with another strange occurrence and another death. Just another job.

'Get a move on sleeping beauty'

The sleepiness was still pumping through his veins, pushing a lazy feeling to all of his muscles via his blood and he inwardly groaned when Dean stepped out of the car, heading towards the motel reception. He dragged his dead weight out of the door and grabbed their duffels from the trunk then leaned against it. Dean came back with a key to room 5 and a small smile playing at his lips. Sam couldn't help it, he was curious.

'What?'

'The receptionist looks like a lot of fun, that's what'

Dean's grin widened and Sam felt a weird twinge in his stomach that he couldn't quite put his finger on, or maybe he could, he knew exactly what he was feeling, but chose to ignore it. In any case, he just shoved Dean's duffel at him and mumbled a 'come on' before heading to their room. It was the same as any other room they'd stayed in. When he stepped in he actually thought they had been there before. The overpowering smell of disinfectant burnt his nostrils but the small room didn't look especially clean and the wallpaper made him feel light headed if he stared at it too long. Sam lets out a disappointed sigh, he always feels let down, he expects one day maybe they'll enter a motel room that's actually welcoming instead of making him want to sleep in the car instead, but that day can't come soon enough.

He lies the files out on the wooden table stained with god knows what and begrudgingly glances over them again. They'd come here because people had heard strange sounds coming from the Illinois Caverns and apparently it smelt unusually foul around the area. Supposedly, there had been a sighting of a frightening looking creature, but that was by some lonely old lady who likes to wear her glasses on top of her head instead of in front of her eyes, so not the most reliable source. There had also been a few deaths but he couldn't find a connection scrunches up his face, this hunt was definitely a long shot, but it was the first thing they'd heard of for a while and just stooped up and aimlessly driving around was making them both go a bit stir crazy.

'Wanna hit a bar and go up to the caves when it's dark? I saw one up the road'

'You go, I'll stay here, might go to bed'

'Come on Sammy, live a little!'

'I don't drink on the job'

'We could ask the locals at the bar if they know anything'

'By that you mean you can chat up the chicks and get pissed'

'Bitch'

'Jerk'

He smiled to himself at that then looked to his brother to make sure he wasn't actually pissed off. Dean was already sprawled across his bed, the one closest to the door as always, fully clothed and he looked exhausted. Apparently, he'd decided not to go out after all. Sam didn't feel much like sleeping himself, he just didn't feel like going out. Well, he didn't feel like watching Dean flirt with everything with a pulse. None the less, he climbed into his own bed for brother's sake who had ever lasting dark circles under his eyes like it was some kind of fashion statement. He flicked off the light, noting that it didn't actually make much difference because the crappy bulb was so dim, and flopped down on his own bed. It was too hard; he could feel the springs digging into his ribs, poking him as if they were taunting him about hardly ever getting a good sleep. He sighed and rolled over to face a peaceful looking Dean, suddenly he didn't feel so dispirited. Dean made him feel safe, happy and loved. He slowly floated away into unconsciousness with thoughts of Dean accompanying him, just like every other night. It seems that thinking of Dean and managing to fall asleep go hand in hand together.

ooo

The caves are just black holes on the deep blue sky ready to swallow anything up that dares enters, the line where the cave stops and the sky begins is hardly even distinguishable. There is a disgusting smell, just like the articles stated so he starts to hope this is there kind of thing. He's tired of doing basically nothing. It gives him too much time to think, the clocks in his brain turning backwards to make him feel things he wants to forget. He clicks his flash light on and Dean follows suit, casting two circular blankets of yellow-white light on the muddy ground. Dean looks at Sam and gives an encouraging nod towards the caves before carefully walking towards them. Sam trails behind, trusting his brother as always.

Its slippery inside and the smell of damp and moss are overwhelming. He doesn't understand how Dean is navigating them, every crevice they squeeze through looks the same to him, as does every spherical space that the crevices lead to. Just a load of brown rock, ugly as it is boring. It's cold in the confined, secluded holes so he pulls his jacket tighter around him with his free hand.

'Dean, come on, there's nothing here'

'The smell is a bit stronger here. I think I can fit through this gap to check it out.' Dean smirks at Sam 'You might have to stay put, Sasquatch'

Ass. Sam thinks as he watches Dean get out his gun and shuffle through the space. Luckily he can fit through too; he didn't like the thought of Dean having no back up. Once inside of the new and biggest yet compartment of the caves, he studied everything he could for clues. The first thing was the stench. It smelt like rotten eggs. Breathing it in made his eyes water and he gagged, it was truly disgusting.

'Ugh, Smells worse than a fricken orc in here dude'

He just gives a small hum in response because it's much too interesting in the cave to really listen to the daily crap Dean comes out with. The second thing was the brownish-red pile in the corner. What is that? Sam narrowed his eyes as if squinting would make light come out of his eyes and cut through the dark. Then he remembered his torch, but he kind of wished he didn't. It was a pile of hearts. Human hearts at a best guess. They were small, so they most likely had belonged to children. Sam noted how they were all in the same spot, most creatures would be more careless and just leave parts of their collections anywhere, this monster was obviously organised. He thought that that should scare him a bit, dealing with an organised creeper would make the job harder, but mostly he was thankful; he hated it when he accidently steps on some guts or whatever. He went through everything he could remember that takes hearts in his head, but it could be a lot of things so there was really no point. The soft sound of his footsteps reverberated off the walls as he walked around. There was another pile of hearts that seemed to be shrivelling, like something was drying them out somehow.

'Sammy, come take a look'

He turns and strides to stand next to Dean, their shoulders brush as they examine what was laid out on a ledge. Around ten amulets, all shaped the same were staring back up at them. Where have I seen these before? Sam searched his brain until he found the answer. He'd seen it in a book.

'It's an amulet to protect against magic, I read that a lot of supernatural beings use them so no one can go use magic kill them, but I've never actually seen it until now'

'huh, looks pretty cool'

Sam watches as Dean picks one up and twiddles it in his fingers.

'You might not wanna do that'

'Why? What's the worst that could happen? I don't get abracadabra'd to death?'

'Why do you think something is shrinking and hardening hearts in here'

He has to strain to hold back a giggle that's bubbling in his throat, threatening to roll up and burst free. But he can't help it, the look on Dean's face when he catches on that the amulets are made of hearts is priceless. Dean throws the amulet back down.

'That's fucking gross'

Sam lets a small snigger escape.

'Enjoying yourself, Sammy? Come on, let's get out of here.'

It takes them a while to find their way out of there, it's just all shoving their way through gaps and bumping their heads against rocks until they eventually stumble out. Finally. They lean against a rock for a while, catching their breath from all the climbing. Rocks dig into his back and it feels like the too many times the barrel of a gun has been in the same position. He shifts his weight trying to get comfortable, but it's useless. The crisp air outside feels refreshing against his skin and it's only then he realises just how stuffy it was in the caves. Stars are shining in the sky above, Sam wonders what it would be like to live in that black ocean, surrounded by nothingness. Would it be lonely or peaceful? He guesses the latter, because the way they emit brightness doesn't really shout 'depression'. He kind of resents them for that which he knows is dumb, because they're just stars and they can't really feel anything but he's in been in a pissy mood all the time lately.

He turns his attention to Dean, whose face is tilted upwards, eyes gazing. It reminds him of the good old days, well as good as the days got, when they would just sit outside and talk and be teenagers. That didn't happen often though, they were only teenagers for short amounts of time here and there because they were required for all intents and purposed to be adults. Sometimes he didn't even think of them as adults, rather as tools in their dad's mission. It was those memories, where they could get a break to laze around or get an ice cream or just talk or anything other than hunting that he held onto, because they were the best he had. Best memories or not, they didn't make him happy, they actually made him feel a sense of longing and heart break knowing they will never get that chance to go back live life like that. Dean will never get to live his life right. He will never get to live a normal life. It was times like those when he realised just how much he hated hunting.

'So you got any clue what it could be?'

Sam registers Dean's voice in the back of his mind, but he doesn't really concentrate on the words and it doesn't even occur to him to answer. He just silently studies Dean's profile. The darkness and the rocks cast unusual shadows on Dean's face and make it difficult for Sam to makes out the faint freckles he knows are there. His eyes travel down the slope Dean's nose to his pink lips. He notices how full they are, set in a nearly permanent straight line. It's not until Sam looks at Dean's glossy green eyes that seem to stand out against his darkened face that he snaps back from his thoughts. Dean is staring at him questioningly but for the life of him he can't remember what Dean said.

'Dude, stop checking me out'

Oh shit. Sam panics for a moment, his heart leaping to his throat thinking Dean has caught on, but then Dean slaps him on the shoulder and he knows it was a joke. Forcing out a slight laugh, he slaps him back.

'You wish'

I'm such a freak. No, don't think about it now. He frantically tells himself because his mind seems to desperately want to drown him in guilt. But concentrating on Dean had calmed him down, made him feel whole and he doesn't want to go back to any negative emotions. Concentrate on what he's saying.

'Well? Is the great nerd stumped or do you have an idea of what it could be'

'It's a Sigbin'

'A what?'

'A Sigbin. They are small creatures with shorter front legs and longer hind ones. Apparently then walk backward with their head between its legs, I guess just to look more spooky. They come out at night but only at certain times of the year to kill children and create amulets with their hearts.'

'That's great, how do we gank it?'

'There isn't much lore on that, well none that I've seen anyway. Our best bet would probably be to set it on fire, but the little bastard can turn invisible to humans, so it can sneak up on its prey.'

'Fantastic' Dean's tone is dry and sarcastic. 'How do you know all this anyway, dad never hunted one'

'I read it'

'Do you just like, read for fun?' Sam draws a breath to answer but Dean holds up a hand 'Never mind, I don't wanna know. I'll go get the flame throwers, you keep watch'

'Keep watch for something that can make its self invisible?'

Dean didn't answer, he was already striding away. Sam considered racing after him and demanding they switch positions, but in all honesty he didn't really care, he was just being awkward. He ducked behind a large rock, letting his hands fall onto the damp grass and twiddling it between his fingers while he waited. His mind drifted between thoughts, shifting from memories of the past, perspectives of the present and hopeless, deluded predictions of the future. After a while, his train of thought, usually all grey steam billowing out and making everything hazy and wheels screeching on the tracks from rapidly going nowhere in particular, slowed until it came to a standstill at Dean.

He doesn't know when he realised his feelings for Dean were something other than just brotherly. That's probably because he didn't just suddenly realise it at all. He kind of just grew into it, like it was always there waiting for him to catch up and now it's just another bad part of him. It was like someone just grabbed a brush and painted red all over a clean, white sheet of paper, but the paper underneath the new colour deforming it is still there, so it's technically still paper. With him and Dean, it was just a new emotion, but all the rest, all the innocent ones, were still there at the base of it all. Those emotions just gave the perfect canvas for the new one to fit perfectly, like they were meant for that purpose.

Sometimes he tricks himself into thinking anyone would feel the same in his situation. They aren't exactly normal brothers. Normal brothers don't spend their lives in each other's pocket. Sam worships Dean, idolises him, Dean is a hero to him. Dean spent most of his life hunting demons for 'the family business' as he likes to call it, but he still manages to make protecting Sam his main priority. So much so, he sold his soul for him. But, even though they spend more time with each other and are much, much more co-dependent than brothers should be, they still always acted like brothers. Hugs here and there, arguing over insignificant things, playing pranks on each other and helping each other out when they need it. So, Sam knows this is all on him. It's not the life they've lived, it's him. I'm just as sick as twisted as ever.

Sitting in the grassy muddy mixture now because he got tired of crouching, he zoned out. Thoughts taking him elsewhere, some place beyond this reality but still one of the most painfully real truths he knows. That's why he doesn't notice when four figures approach him and why he's so shocked to the core when two of the males are abruptly pinning him down. Damnit. There are three men and one woman, all eyes black and burning into his skin. One of the men is standing tall over him and giving him a sly grin, trying to be intimidating.

'That was almost too easy Sammy boy, you should learn not to let your guard down without your precious brother to protect you' he almost growls the words.

'What do you want? Where's Dean?'

'He's fine, don't worry about him... yet.' The demon chuckles, it doesn't sound happy though, more sinister. 'at least not until we're done with you.'

'What do you mean?'

The demon doesn't answer, he just gives this look to the woman that suggests he's got something up his sleeve. Sam stains his muscles, trying to fight his way free, but the grasp the other two men have on him is too strong. He can't see the ones holding him down but the man in front is lanky, dressed casually and has a shiny bald head. The woman is a little plumper, not fat by any means, just bigger than the guy. She has long, curly blond locks, high cheek bones and spotless skin. Sam would think she's pretty if it weren't for the two ugly, cruel black holes dug into her face. She pulls out a knife, short but sharp and it glints with reflections of the moon when she idly twists in her palm.

'Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit'

All too fast, she's leaning over him and pulling his shirt down. He can't think straight, he just struggles harder but he can't see a way out. It's not until he feels an inscrutable pain in his chest that he catches on to what she's doing; cutting a chunk of skin where his possession protection tattoo is. It hurts too much, he can feel the warm blood trickling down and can smell the familiar metallic smell so strongly he swears he can taste it. Shouts in pain, shouts for Dean, shouts of curses are all cut dead by the cloth shoved into his mouth. When did that happen? The sting is still there when she finishes her job with a proud expression, a sting that feels sharp and prominent where the cut was made and travels through his body making him feel weak and full of adrenaline at the same time. Gritting his teeth through the hurt, he tells himself Dean will be here soon. However, he'd be lying if he said he knew that for sure or if he said he wasn't scared. He was trapped and had no clue, not one what was going on or why.

The man smirks again, evil and dark. Sam tries to shout to let him go but the malicious bastard just laughs.

'Just need a bit of inside information on the doing-the-world-a-favour Winchesters'

Black smoke pours out of the man's mouth like a swarm of flies. Please no. The last thing Sam sees is the woman relentlessly snapping the now just a vessel's neck before his world is covered by the thick, dark smoke, his eyes blur and his mind goes slack and he feels something odd, something burning in his throat, clawing at the sides.