Into The Frying Pan

by kiara87

Two witches went to demon-market, one former-hunter was on sale. The witches saved the hunter and they orbed all the way home… hitting a few speed bumps on the way, of course. When Dean outlives his usefulness in hell, Lilith decides to sell him on.

1. Out Of The Hell Fire

DISCLAIMER: I disclaim anything you recognise, specifically anything from Charmed and Supernatural.

SUMMARY: Charmed/ Supernatural crossover. Two little witches went to demon-market, one former-hunter was on sale. The little witches saved the hunter, and they orbed all the way home…hitting a few speed bumps on the way, of course. When Dean outlives his usefulness in hell, Lilith decides to sell him on.

TIMELINE: Timelines are out of sync.Wyatt and Chris are all grown up. I'm putting them at 24 and 23. For Supernatural, this takes place a while after the season three finale and goes AU from there.

A/N: Please bear in mind, I started planning this fic before season 4 aired - it's been sitting in my incomplete folder for quite some time now! Obviously, things have changed and since returning to this fic I have tried to work some of that into the plot, but essentially, AU.

INTO THE FRYING PAN by Kiara

PART ONE: Out of the Hell Fire

"There."

The owner of the gruff voice pushed him forward into the light. He stumbled forward, hindered by the chain wrapped around each ankle and unaccustomed to the brightness. He blinked stupidly, managing to rid the red spots from his vision and save himself from falling. He wouldn't fall, not in front of them. He wouldn't show them any weakness if he could help it. He was Dean Winchester; a hunter…of sorts.

"…I have two and a minion for the mortal. Do I hear three powers?"

Dean looked towards the voice in alarm. They were auctioning him off? After all the trouble Lilith had taken to secure his place in hell; after everything they had put him through until finally, finally he had broken and done unthinkable things… Still, he stayed silent and said nothing. He knew better than to protest or voice his thoughts; a hard learned lesson that he wasn't likely to forget.

It was completely quiet in the audience, although Dean couldn't see how big it was with the bright spotlight shining in his eyes. How had life, or death as the case may be, come to this? He wasn't some slave to be sold to the highest bidder, owned by the creatures he used to hunt. It had been a long time, but he was still Dean Winchester. And though he was different now, all cracked and broken, he could still cling onto that.

"Three powers." A cold, hard voice spoke up with authority. This didn't seem like the sort of person, or demon, you would want to purchase you…if anyone would ever want such a thing.

The auctioneer raised an eyebrow, mentally calculating his cut. "Do I hear four? No? Going once…"

Dean held his breath, praying for a miracle…or at least for someone a bit more compassionate-sounding to bid.

"…Going twice…"

No one else spoke up, there was a quiet murmur of conversation in the background. Who would pay three powers for a mortal? Especially one that had seen better days.

"…Sold…"

Dean was being led forward roughly, he nearly fell down off the platform, and was practically thrown at a tall figure clad from head-to-toe in a black robe, the hood falling over his face. Before Dean could hit the ground, the robed man grabbed his forearm and hauled him up. Dean bit back a wince as old wounds were aggravated; well, at least it was less painful than hitting the floor. He scanned his new surroundings, wondering if there was a chance of escape. But it was no use. The place was crammed with demons.

These were not the kind of demons he used to fight with Sammy- these were some ugly sons of bitches. From what Dean could see of his new 'master', peeking out from under the hood of his robe, he seemed to be pretty human looking with a square jaw. He was solidly built, and slightly taller than Dean was - probably about Sammy's height. Still, at a place like this, he had to be a demon or at the very least, possessed by one. The guy jerked his head, presumably finding his 'merchandise' acceptable, and handed over three large jars, each holding a swirling blue ball of light. The price for the eternal soul of Dean Winchester. It wasn't worth as much as it used to be.

"Let's go."

Dean looked up sharply at the demon who now held his contract. He didn't look like he was addressing Dean, and Dean certainly wasn't used to being spoken to anymore, but there was no one else around. The demon kept a firm grasp on his arm. It was doing more to hold him up than pull him along, so in a way it was a welcome, if overly constrictive, grip. Dean kept quiet and allowed himself to be dragged along to the edge of the crowd, the sound of his chains dragging behind him lost among the bartering demons.

When they were just outside the room, the demon looked around. Nobody was watching them. "Okay, now."

There was a crack as a small glass bottle, seemingly thrown from nowhere, broke and a swirling blue portal opened up in front of them. Now, Dean may not have seen anything like this before, but he knew a portal when he saw it. He tried to pull away, but the malnutrition and mistreatment had made him weaker and the bigger man (or demon, whatever) was easily able to pull him through.

Dean gasped as he felt himself being pulled forward, the sensation making his stomach churn. But a second later it was over and he felt himself pitching forward as the atmosphere changed around him. Once again he was saved from falling by the hand holding onto his arm. This time, he managed to shake off the arm and stumbled a few steps away. A quick look around showed him to be in an apartment, one a couple of floors up if the tree tops he could see through the window was anything to go by. There was a large bookshelf crammed to busting on one side of him and a living area with a television on the other. It looked so normal, but he had learnt long ago that looks could be deceiving.

Dean watched as this stranger shook his hood off to reveal short blond hair and a clean shaven face. He looked human. The human/demon looked around the room, finally focusing on one empty spot.

"Chris?"

The air rippled and 'Chris' appeared. "Yeah, Wyatt, I'm back."

"They buy the fake powers?" The tall one, 'Wyatt', questioned.

"I didn't really stick around long enough to find out. Is he okay?" Chris nodded towards Dean who was backing away from them.

Wyatt turned back to the innocent, having satisfied himself that his brother had made it back safely. "Don't worry. We're going to help you."

Dean didn't take his eyes off him, clearly conveying his suspicion.

"Shall I throw the potion?" Chris asked, happy to take his cue from his older brother.

"This won't hurt you." Wyatt assured, seeing Dean's alarmed look. "We just need to anchor you to this plane before we can treat your injuries, okay?"

They didn't wait for an answer and the younger of the two tossed a vial at his feet. When it broke, a lilac smoke filled the air, making Dean cough. Immediately he felt different. A lightness he hadn't even noticed was replaced by a much more solid feeling and the chill he'd felt from the moment he stepped through the portal evaporated as he became aware of the warmth of the apartment. While he was taking it in, Wyatt walked over and placed a hand over the open wound on his shoulder. Instinctively, Dean went to pull it away, but it noticed the pain fading. He looked down; there was a golden glow coming from the blonde's hands, illuminating his shoulder so he could clearly see the skin healing.

Dean allowed the two strangers to manoeuvre him into one of the armchairs, a hell of a lot more comfortable than anything he'd sat in recently. He watched as Chris joined his brother and held his hands over the opposite shoulder. They didn't stop till each wound was healed and the worst of the pain had gone. He still ached, and felt a heavy tiredness in his limbs, but compared to what he had gotten used too it felt like paradise.

"What…what are you?" Dean asked, his voice hoarse and cracking from disuse.

The younger one noticed and crossed the room to where he could see a kitchen behind a breakfast bar. He poured a glass of water and handed it to Dean while his brother did his best to explain the situation.

"I'm Wyatt, and that's my brother, Chris. We're witches…good witches." He added, seeing the look of alarm. They'd had enough years practice comforting innocents, but it was never easy.

"My brother had a premonition." Chris explained, taking up the explanations. "We knew we were meant to help you."

Dean continued to regard them with suspicion. He was quite proud of himself for not bolting the moment he heard the word 'witch'. He had never had a good experience with witches. Then the younger one, Chris, had started talking about premonitions. As well as a deep stab of homesickness for his brother, that word had brought about a fear. He wasn't used to be on the other end of the visions. Usually it was him and Sam running off to save the day, not the one being rescued. He had to find Sammy, he had to get away. But he wasn't going to get that far with the chain still wrapped around his wrists and ankles and, even if they had healed his wounds (something that still set his mind reeling), he wasn't as strong as he used to be. Although he knew he should he, Dean's gut was telling him not to panic. He'd been treated better here than anywhere else; they had helped him, and while the cynic in him wondered what they would want in return, another part of him just wanted to enjoy it.

"Christos." He muttered. You couldn't be too careful.

The younger one, Chris, grinned as he recognised the Latin. He parroted the word back to him, make sure to keep his eyes open so Dean could clearly see they weren't flashing black. "Don't worry. We're not demons."

"So who are you?" Wyatt asked with a grin. "I mean, these visions don't usually come with name, age and personal profile."

"That's because we're not a dating service." Chris snorted.

Dean remained silent. Aside from the fact he hadn't spoken in so long, he had quite literally had his identity beaten out of him. Or rather beaten back, right into the deepest recess' of his mind. Dean had refused to let go of himself while he was down there; it was the only thing keeping him sane and he gotten quite protective over it.

"So?"

"Dean." He revealed finally, allowing them in, partly because he didn't have that many options open to him, and partly because he was starting to believe that these brothers were going to help him make the best of said options.

Wyatt grinned a bit goofily. "Well, Dean, you hungry? Chris would be happy to make you something to eat."

Chris glared at his brother in a long suffering way. He rolled his eyes, got up and made his way across the room into the kitchen he and Wyatt supposedly shared, but only Chris used. "Yeah, because if we left the cooking to Wy then you'd only get food poisoning and it would be such a shame to kill you when we've only just rescued you."

"I'm not that bad." Wyatt confided to their innocent, ignoring the loud snort that came from the kitchen. He continued talking, trying to keep their guest at ease. "Our Mom is a chef, she owns her own restaurant. But Chris was the one to inherit most of the cooking genes. He actually used to help out in the restaurant when he still lived at home before college."

Dean looked at him in disbelief. Here was a guy, probably a couple of years younger than Sammy, chatting with him as if everything was normal. Never mind that they'd only just met, or that he was just sitting there in a very tattered pair of jeans, his shirt long since worn away. Never mind that they had quite literally brought him from a demonic auction, or that he had barely said two words to them. They were acting normally. Who the hell were these freaks?

As if sensing his thoughts, Wyatt tried to explain. "Chris and I have been doing this for a long time, and our Mom and aunts doing it long before that. That chain your wearing is magic resistant, but we will find a way to get it off and then we can get you back to your family…as soon as you're ready." He added tactfully. He wasn't sure what Dean had gone through, but he had had some pretty serious injuries before they had healed him, and Wyatt's vision had made it clear that nothing good had awaited the former-hunter if they had not have saved him.

*You might want to get him one of my shirts.* Chris' voice spoke up in his head, though his brother had not given any indication of paying any less attention to his cooking. Wyatt sent back a message over their link, asking Chris to keep an eye on Dean while he sought out some clothes. Their link was something that had developed when they were children. Leo had put it down to their whitelighter and elder sides, combined with their close bond as brothers. It was like an extension of the sensing abilities both brothers had; one that had saved their lives countless times and irritated their family to no end when they were growing up.

Wyatt found a pair of sweatpants and a shirt he thought might fit and gave them to Dean, joining his brother in the kitchen to allow him the privacy to change. He breathed in the scent of home cooking and considered sneaking a taste.

"Don't even think about it." Chris said without looking up.

"What?"

"You know what, Wyatt."

"My own brother doesn't trust me!"

"That's because I know you. More to the point, I know your stomach. Lunch will be ready in a couple of minutes; you can wait until then."

Dean almost smiled as he heard the brothers bickering in the kitchen. In a way it reminded him of the way he and Sammy had been, only more normal. This pair clearly had a, some might say, more stable balance between natural and supernatural than the Winchester's had ever managed. They had a flat and ate food that wasn't purchased from a greasy diner or a gas station. Thinking of food made his stomach grumble. When was the last time he ate? He was undoubtedly thinner than he had been. The manual labour expected of all the slaves (how he had hated that word, but it fit) meant that there was still some muscle determinedly clinging to his bones, but the malnutrition had made him weaker, his skin so pale it almost looked translucent.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Chris had noted a fatal flaw in their plan, one he silently communicated with his brother. *How's he meant to change when he's got those chains on?*

*Oh. Right.* Mentally slapping himself, Wyatt went back into the living room and, much to Dean's wide-eyed surprise, orbed the clothes directly onto him. He already looked a hundred times better, Wyatt observed, now that they had healed his injuries and given him some hole-free clothes.

"Fuck." Dean had muttered when he'd found himself enveloped in blue lights. But when the lights had cleared, he was dressed. It was beyond weird.

"Food's done." Chris called out, making no comment on the clothes.

Hesitantly, Dean approached the breakfast bar and perched uncomfortably on one of the stools.

"It's chicken, hope that's okay." Chris said, setting down a bowl of thick soup - the same kind their mom had made when he or Wyatt were ill - in front of Dean. Privately Chris thought that at this point Dean would eat pretty much anything, but he didn't want to overload his stomach and make him even worse.

Wyatt reached for one of the crusty rolls and started eating. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean slowly take a sip of the soup, then it was like a switch had been flicked and he finished the bowl quickly. He caught Chris' eye and realised that they were both thinking the same thing: when was the last time this guy had eaten a decent meal?

Dean was savouring the food, he felt like he could eat and eat forever. But when he got halfway through his second portion (the bowl had wordlessly been refilled as soon as he was finished), he set his spoon down feeling fuller than he had since before he had died. His stomach had definitely shrunk.

"Had enough?"

Dean nodded. "Thanks."

Chris grinned at him. Piper had always said that everything was made easier when you weren't hungry, and already he could see that Dean was looking slightly less suspicious towards them and he seemed more relaxed. The colour was already starting to return to Dean's cheeks and the deep frown had disappeared.

"We'll start working on the chain tomorrow." Wyatt said as he too finished his meal.

Though he didn't say anything, it was obvious Dean was wondering why they couldn't start right away.

"We don't know how it's booby trapped." Wyatt explained. "I want to make sure I've got a good read of its magical signature and Chris wants to do more research before we try anything. We don't want to try anything that might set off any spells or curses that could hurt you unless we think it has a real shot of working."

Dean nodded. That made sense, but he just really wanted to get back to Sam. "My brother…"

"Do you want to call him?"

After a moment's hesitation, Dean shook his head. If he called Sammy, then he would immediately be on his way here and Dean didn't want his brother to see him like this. Not yet anyway. Not while Dean was still in chains like a fucking slave and his brain was so fried that he wouldn't be able to doge any of his 'too-smart-for-his-own-good' little brother's questions. A good night's sleep would make so much difference.

"We'll get the chain off as soon as we can." Wyatt promised, sensing Dean disappointment.

"Why are you doing this?"

Wyatt looked confused. "You need our help. They said at the market that you used to be a hunter, why did you do that if you didn't want to help people?"

Dean nodded, conceding the point even though he still wasn't sure he understood. It had been so long since he had been in a position to help anyone, he wasn't sure he remembered why he had done it anymore.

"You want to have a shower or sleep or something?" Chris offered.

Five minutes later, Dean was standing in the shower and beginning to feel human again. He turned the heat up high, letting the scalding water fall over his body and wash away the last traces of hell. Okay, so it wasn't really that easy. Although the physical scars had disappeared in that healing golden glow, there were ones that went much deeper than that. He just needed a day or two to get his head together, then he could go back to Sam and things could go back to normal.

---

"Anything in the Book of Shadows?"

"Only what we already knew." Chris answered, closing the book with a frustrated sigh. He'd known that it would be no good before he had even looked; he knew that book forwards and back. "I better orb it back to the Manor before Mom notices it's missing."

As the family heirloom vanished in blue lights, Wyatt closed his eyes, reaching out with his magic to where he could feel Dean and the silver chain wrapped around his wrists and ankles. He felt the magical signature, sensing the enchantments around it. "I don't think there's any booby traps on the chain - they probably don't think they're needed. I don't think we'll have any problems with it."

"Well, we do rock."

Wyatt rolled his eyes, but allowed himself a small smile at his brother's matter-of-fact reply. They had proven themselves over and over to be competent witches and whitelighters, continuing their family's legacy when the Charmed One's had finally let them take the lead in the demon hunting business. They were by no means retired, and the younger generation knew that their parents wouldn't be able to help themselves from giving their two cents worth, but the time had come for the next line of defence to come forward.

"Earth to Wy!"

"What? Sorry, I was just thinking."

"Don't strain yourself, bro." Chris snorted. "I was saying that I have to call Mom and let her know I can't work tonight."

"Why not? I can watch the innocent."

"Yeah, until a charge calls for you and you have to orb off to Europe."

"You just don't want to work tonight." Wyatt retorted.

Chris smirked smugly before jumping up from his seat. "Hey Dean, find everything you need?"

Dean gave him an unreadable look. "Yeah…"

"Great. That's…great." Chris said, noting that Dean seemed more relaxed now he wasn't covered in several months build up of hell-dust.

"You better phone Mom now so she can get another bar tender in."

"It's only a Wednesday, so it should be fine." Chris said, but moved to the phone nonetheless.

"And don't mention the demon market!" Wyatt called after him.

Chris shot his brother a look which clearly said: 'what am I, stupid?'. "Hey Mom! We're fine, well except that Wyatt tried to kill us with his cooking again… I know! That's what I told him!"

Wyatt glared at his sibling. He was certainly not the worst cook in the family, that right was reserved for his Aunt Phoebe, although he couldn't deny being a lazy cook. It just didn't thrill him like it did Chris and their mom.

"…Yeah, well we've got this innocent staying with us at the moment….Wyatt and I saved him… Oh just somewhere in the Underworld, look Mom, I've got to go, duty calls and all that… Umm, maybe. We'll see how things are going tomorrow…We will…Love you too."

Dean stood in the doorway awkwardly. He'd never been on this end of the saved-saviour spectrum. He didn't like being the helpless one.

"Mom invited us to dinner tomorrow. All of us." Chris added with a not-so-subtle glance at Dean who shifted uncomfortably.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Wyatt said smoothly, though he thought it would be a good idea. Although his family could be a bit overwhelming at times, they were good at what they did, at helping innocents. Plus, it would show Dean one of the good things in the world. "You off the hook?"

Chris nodded. "I'm at your disposal."

"Idiot."

"Takes one to know one." Chris bit back immediately.

Wyatt was well used to his brother's smart mouth. But that didn't stop him from trying to get even every once in a while. "Hey Dean, if we do go to dinner don't mention the whole demon market thing. When Chris was fourteen he went on a demon hunter kick, went there on his own and almost got himself sold to a clan of demons. Ever since then little Chrissy hasn't been allowed to go to market without his Mommy."

Dean grinned slightly and Chris blushed. "At least I was getting a good price. Aunt Paige was upset to find out that I was worth more that her."

"Imagine how much the Twice Blessed would get." Wyatt said with a grin as Chris rolled his eyes. "So, Dean, we did some research while you were in the shower. Chris and I think it will be easy enough to remove those chains."

"Do it." Dean said without a thought, impressed with himself for just taking the plunge and consenting to let them do magic on him. If it got the wretched chains off quicker, then so much the better.

"I'm going to be overloading the magical circuits." Wyatt explained. "Let me know if anything feels wrong, like if they start to get too hot, and I'll stop."

Dean nodded, resting his hands on his knees so that it wouldn't show he was shaking. He just wanted these things off, dammit. Wyatt seemed to realise how he felt, because he immediately reached out and placed one hand on each of the cuffs around his wrists. He breathed in deeply, and it started.

Wyatt felt his brother's presence in his mind and felt reassured. If something did go wrong, then Chris would know before Wyatt even had a chance to verbalise it. He began to feed his magic through the cuffs, trusting Chris to keep an eye on Dean (who was totally transfixed) while Wyatt focused on the task at hand. He felt the chains begin to hum as he fed more magic into them; they began to glow a dirty white as it built up. Then, with a flash it cut out, Wyatt and Dean both flinching as they received what felt like a static shock.

"You okay?" Chris asked, mainly to Dean. Thanks to their link, he knew that Wyatt was fine.

"Fine." Dean replied instantly, looking down to where the chains were still around his wrists. "Didn't it work?"

Without the magical barriers protecting the cuffs, Chris was able to use his telekinesis to pick the lock and they clicked open as Wyatt began to repeat the process on the cuffs around his ankles.

Dean stretched out his arms in front of him, then swung out as wide as he could. He shook his arms and laughed as the movement wasn't accompanied by a jingle-jangle. He was free.

Wyatt and Chris watched with smiles on their faces. They couldn't help but notice that Dean stood taller and looked brighter with the constant reminder of his imprisonment and subservience wrapped around his limbs.

Dean grinned, he couldn't seem to help it. Maybe witches weren't so bad. Hell, at this point, he fricking loved witches. "Thank you."

"No problem." Chris said, not a trace of his usual sarcasm present in his voice. They had done a Good Thing; all-in-all it had been a pretty good day's work. And if, by some miracle, the demons from the market didn't come after Dean when they realised Wyatt had left fake powers, then it would be pretty damn perfect.

Wyatt, having orbed the chains into a volcano, grinned. "Happy to help." He said, or rather started to say. Somewhere in the middle of the sentence he stopped suddenly, spinning around to face an empty spot in the room and side-stepping so that he was shielding the innocent. As the air shimmered, Wyatt powered up an energy ball. The figure solidified, and Wyatt extinguished the ball a split-second before it would have left his hand. He sighed in relief, glad it wasn't anyone after Dean, but irritated at the intruder for making him worry.

"Geez, a little warning Bianca. I could have killed you."

She snorted, tossing a mane of perfectly styled hair over her shoulder. "You could have tried."

"Are you not tired of her yet?" Wyatt whined to his brother.

Chris laughed. He knew Wyatt and Bianca got on just fine, well even. "Not yet…I mean not ever." He amended upon receiving a glare off his girlfriend.

"What the hell?"

The three witches looked round in surprise. Bianca wasn't sure who he was, and Wyatt and Chris were not used to Dean being so vocal.

"Innocent?" Bianca asked, taking into account his appearance and confused, panicked expression.

"Yep." Chris answered. "Bee, meet Dean. Dean this is my girlfriend, Bianca. She likes to make an entrance."

"Sorry about that." Bianca looked a bit contrite.

"We've been trying to get her to knock on the door like a normal person, but I think it's a bit of a lost cause." Wyatt teased, earning him a glare. "And as for the energy ball, we told you we were witches. It's one of the powers I have to fight demons."

Dean was regarding them all with slight suspicion; his earlier insecurities beginning to resurface despite his recent jubilation. "Maybe I should go."

"Look, we're not going to hurt you." Chris explained patiently. "If we had wanted to, then we would have done it long ago. It really would be best if you would stay here at least for tonight because there is bound to be some repercussions from us springing you from the market. At some point they'll realise that we paid in fake magic, and when they come to collect we can protect you. If there's somewhere we can take you to, we'll drop you off first thing in the morning."

"I need to know my brother's okay." Dean said slowly. Old habits die hard, and Sammy had been his number one priority for years.

"What's his name? Chris' part-elder; he should be able to sense anyone on the planet."

Dean hesitated for only a moment. "Sam Winchester."

Chris concentrated for a minute. "About Wyatt's height, kinda long brown hair, eyes like a Labrador puppy?"

Under any other circumstances Dean would have smirked at the description of his little brother, but not today. "Is he okay?"

"He's sleeping right now. He's near Chicago."

"But he's okay?" Dean asked urgently.

Chris nodded. As far as he could tell, Sam was fine physically. A bit battered and bruised maybe. Mentally? The part-elder could sense a lot of turmoil coming from the room, but he couldn't tell anymore that that. He was only half elder and empathy wasn't one of his powers.

"So you'll stay?" Wyatt asked hopefully. He'd picked up that Chris wasn't telling the whole truth (though, knowing Chris, he suspected it wasn't an all out lie) and resolved to question him about it later.

Dean nodded. It would be better, both for him and Sammy, if he had had a good night's rest before they saw each other.

"Cool. You can have Wyatt's room."

"Excuse me?"

"Well unless you'd prefer Bianca and I to sleep on our sofa…" Chris offered.

"Fine." Wyatt pulled a face. "I knew you'd be a bad influence on him."

"Oh? Like he wouldn't have tried to get the bed before we started dating?" Bianca said, amused and well used to the brothers' antics.

Dean supposed that it would be polite to offer to take the sofa himself. He considered doing that, but truth be told he was really looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed. He had been in Hell for months; surely he deserved a bed for the night?

"Well," Bianca said, looping her arms around her boyfriend's waist, "if you're not working tonight, then you can cook me dinner."

Chris smiled. It was a good job he liked cooking as rarely a meal went by when he didn't have to cook something. "What does milady fancy?"

Wyatt developed a sudden coughing fit which sounded a bit like 'so whipped' but he was ignored.

"Nothing healthy." Bianca declared, 'accidentally' bashing Wyatt with her elbow. "Mom's had me training all day. Apparently there's discontent in the underworld which means lots of contracts up for grabs."

Chris frowned. Although often discontent in the underworld did not necessarily mean trouble for the mortal world (thanks in large part to his family's efforts over the years) it still worried him. Not in the least because his girlfriend and her clan spent a lot of time down there as assassins for hire, strictly taking out the bad guys of course.

"Stop thinking." Bianca ordered, seeing that look on Chris' face. Sometimes he took too much onto his shoulders.

He smirked, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Dinner then?"

"What do you think Dean?" She turned to the innocent, pretending not to notice his deer-in-headlights look. "He makes the best burgers."

"Uh, sure." Dean wasn't used to having his opinion matter, not anymore. He certainly wasn't used to being asked what he wanted to be cooked for dinner.

"Burgers it is then."

Chris shook his head. "You have a five-star chef at your disposal and you want burgers?"

She poked him in the chest none too gently and pouted. "You said I could have whatever I wanted and that's what I want."

"God, Bianca, princess-complex much?" Wyatt laughed. He was well used to them by now, and he actually approved of their relationship. If anyone had told him five years ago that a half-witch, half-demon assassin would be the thing to make his brother finally relax, he would never have believed it. But it was true, and obvious to the point that even their mother had come to accept to their relationship (although she still made the occasional comment which made Chris' hackles rise).

"Do not." Bianca pouted, refusing to admit that was true even if she had been raised as the princess of her clan since before she could throw an athame.

"Sure you don't…princess."

Bianca glared at Wyatt; Twice Blessed or not, there was only so much teasing the half-witch assassin would take and, since knowing Chris, her tolerance had gone way up. Still, Wyatt always pushed her a step further. She felt Chris' presence behind her, calming hand curling round to rest just above her hip and she just knew by the way Wyatt immediately backed off that somehow, either telepathically or through that weird-sibling-eye-thing they did, Chris had warned him off.

"Come on, Bee. Will you help me with dinner?"

"Sure." With one last glare at Wyatt she stalked into the kitchen leaving Chris to follow with a final grin at his brother. They knew what Bianca was like, and Chris would always chose a woman with her passion than one of the mindless witch 'groupies' the Halliwell sons seemed to pick up at every turn.

Dean raised one eyebrow as he heard Bianca giggle from the kitchen, her bad mood vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

Wyatt just rolled his eyes. "Chris always did like a challenge." He murmured.

"I can see that." Dean replied dryly.

Wyatt grinned, happy to see the 'innocent' joking - even if it was rooted in Chris' breed of sarcasm. "You should have seen her when they first got together; high maintenance doesn't even begin to cover it, but now…"

They both looked into the kitchen to see the couple working perfectly together as if they were destined to do so. A brush of hands here, a touch of the arm as they slid past each other in the narrow space…it was all so domesticated. Dean dragged his eyes away as Bianca got a mischievous look in her eye and said something which made Chris laugh, then spin her round against the worktop and kiss her thoroughly.

Wyatt was not nearly so tactful. "Hands where I can see 'em, little bro. We prepare food in there."

"Don't you mean I prepare food in here?"

"Which I eat."

"No one's forcing you to." Chris said, but nonetheless stepped away from his girlfriend after one last, quick kiss.

Wyatt chuckled and shook his head, leaving them to it before he got asked to help. "Do you like football, Dean?"

Dean shrugged, remembering the Christmas' and Thanksgiving's spent watching the game in whichever shit-hole motel they were staying in. Those memories were probably some of the most normal he had.

"Or we could watch a film. Or music?" Wyatt continued trying to find something that their guest would enjoy.

Dean shrugged again. "After the last year, I'd be happy to just look out the window and watch the sun come up."

Wyatt nodded in understanding and looked out the window as an idea came to him. "Chris, we're going out for a bit. Call if you need me."

He got a grunt of acknowledgement from his brother, but Dean was looking at him in confusion. Wyatt held out a hand. "Just trust me."

Dean's look became one of panic as Wyatt grasped his arm securely and they vanished in blue orbs which made him feel like he was being turned inside out. They landed with a clang, only Wyatt's firm grip preventing Dean from stumbling, and when his eyes focused, Dean was incredibly grateful.

"Holy fuck…"

Wyatt chuckled. "Yeah. That about sums it up."

"Where…How…"

"The Golden Gate Bridge, the bit that's closed to tourists." Wyatt replied looking around at his all time favourite view. "I orbed us up here."

Dean cleared his throat anxiously. Okay, so he wasn't scared of heights, but this was pushing it. "Are we safe up here?"

"Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you."

Dean was surprised to find that he actually believed him, despite the fact that he had only met (been rescued by) the Halliwell brothers a few hours ago. Maybe it was all that time in hell; it had made him long to trust someone so he latched onto the first likely candidates that came along and the Halliwell's had saved him from a pretty uncomfortable spot and they had been nothing but decent since. Dean looked around, absorbing the view. It was a hell of a step up from the view from a prisoner's cell.

"It's not the sun coming up, but I've always thought that sunset's pretty spectacular too." Wyatt said quietly, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

"Yeah." Dean gaped, the word sounding choked around a lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat as he looked at the world around them, bathed in a pink tint which made everything seem brighter. It was starting to sink in, he was finally free. And he was back in his own world. He was home.

---

So there's Part One - do you like? Do you hate? Would you like to see more? Did you accidentally press 'end' and are now reading this and cursing because you'll have to scroll back up and try to find the point where you were last reading? I do that all the time.

Anyway, please review! Kiarax