Author's Note: This is the prequel to 'I Didn't Mean To'. Actually, this is the prequel and a re-writing of the original story with more detail and then the sequel. It may take a while to finish. Takes place in season 2. At this point if y'all have read more than one of my stories, you're probably noticing some themes running through my work. I see Dean and Sam and their past in a particular way and, so some things may seem similar.

Title taken from a beautiful song from Jim Byrnes, who is also an actor (the anthropology professor in Bugs, Season 1).

It started innocuously enough, another hunt, familiar in its distinctiveness. They had been working a haunting in Fayetteville, NC and Dean had wound up unconscious.

Sam didn't even know what happened. He had been in the grave opening the coffin, while Dean of course had been playing bait, holding off the ghost with a shotgun. See, familiar.

But every hunt was unique and something always went wrong and so, while Dean had been reloading, the ghost had touched Dean. It was strange really. They were normally getting thrown every which way by ghosts and this one just touched Dean and the older hunter just dropped to the ground like the proverbial rock. Guess it explained why the victims had no defensive wounds though.

Sam hurriedly threw salt on the corpse and then threw in the match when the ghost began advancing on Dean's unconscious, helpless form. It was always a struggle, to not immediately run to Dean's aid, but instead to be sensible and finish salting and burning the corpse.

Still, Dean didn't magically wake up when the ghost disappeared in the usual roar of anger. Sam knelt next to his fallen brother and gently slapped the lightly stubbled cheek. No response.

Sam wasn't too worried just yet, surely this just needed time to wear off. Dean didn't seem to need a doctor, his breathing and heartbeat seemed fine, so Sam would just take him back to the motel and put him to bed.

Pulling Dean into a sitting position by his jacket, Sam was thankful that this wasn't like any of the other times that he had had to carry Dean to the car. Not like when Dean had been electrocuted and Sam had to give him CPR before driving like a bat out of hell to the Emergency Department. And definitely not like the time, when the YED had ripped Dean to shreds wearing their father, when Sam had had to carry a barely conscious and profusely bleeding Dean to the car while their father's disappointment-filled eyes looked on.

However, without the panic Sam had time to realize exactly how heavy six feet of an unconscious muscular man was. Pretty damn heavy, he thought as Sam managed to maneuver Dean's weight across his shoulders and began the trek back to the car.

Carefully, he laid Dean across the back seat of his brother's beloved car. Unconscious, Dean seemed so helpless, depending on Sam to keep him safe. And Sam really wanted to keep Dean safe, to be the one that Dean leaned on. Since Dad's death, the chinks in Dean's armor were becoming wider, chinks that Sam hadn't even been aware of until after Dad's disappearance. He guessed he really had grown up at college.

Sam couldn't help glancing frequently in the rearview mirror to check on his brother as he drove. More than just Dad's death had changed things though. Sam had come to terms with a few things, had come to terms with himself and with his childhood. Knowing about the Yellowed-eyed Demon and that there were plans, that there were other children out there like him…it made things easier in a way. Knowing that there was a reason for things, no matter how terrible that reason was, made things easier to accept.

And he was accepting, knowing that he would have always been different…it made him glad that at least he was prepared, made him thankful that he at least had one person who would go to the ends of the earth for him.

It was late, so there weren't any people about when Sam pulled Dean from the backseat of the Impala. Of course, without any blood this time, people would have just assumed that Dean was dead drunk.

Sam supported Dean's head as he laid the other man on the bed Dean had previously claimed as his own. Then he figured he should take Dean's coat off and he pulled Dean back up to sitting. It took some maneuvering but he managed to get Dean down to just a t-shirt and then he pulled off Dean's boots. Sam thought about removing Dean's jeans but figured Dean wouldn't be too happy about that come morning.

As Sam finished tucking his brother under the covers, he couldn't help but stare. Dean was beautiful, particularly now with the harsh angles of worry and determination smoothed away in sleep.

Sam wondered whether he had always felt this desire for Dean. He had always known Dean was beautiful, had always idolized his brother. Dean was a real hero, not just Sam's hero.

Dean had always been there for him. Dean had been his mother when their own had died, his father when John couldn't be bothered, his friend when Sam had had to leave all of his others behind, his training partner, his mentor, his supporter.

Even when sibling rivalry took over, when Sam hated Dean for being stronger, faster, their father's perfect soldier, even then Dean had done nothing but love him. Sam had long ago stopped wanting to be Dean, he wanted to have Dean.

He remembered the first time that he had wanted to kiss Dean. Ironically it had been the day that he had left for college. He and John had had the fight to end all fights, neither one paying attention when Dean had tried to interrupt. Sam couldn't even remember where Dean had been in the room while the fight was going on.

But after Dad had uttered his infamous 'don't come back' and Sam had grabbed his things and ran out the door, Dean had followed. They walked to the bus stop together. Dean hadn't tried to convince Sam not to go, hadn't expressed all the hurt that was in his eyes. The older hunter had simply told Sam that he could always call, no matter what he needed. Dean had given Sam all the money in his wallet and told Sam to be careful.

And Sam had wanted to crush Dean to him, to plunder those full lips…but he didn't. He went to college and did some experimenting instead.

The first guy Sam had ever slept with had been pretty like Dean, with big beautiful green eyes like Dean. But he had had none of Dean's fire, of Dean's intensity. The second had had that dangerous air, Dean's cockiness, but none of Dean's vulnerability, Dean's selflessness.

Unable to resist, Sam stroked a hand down Dean's face, through Dean's hair, amazed when Dean turned into the touch with a small noise of satisfaction. Smiling to himself, Sam eventually pulled his hand away, confident that Dean would indeed be fine.

As Sam drifted off to sleep, he wondered what to do about his feelings for his brother. He wanted Dean, but he didn't want to make things worse between them.

After that night though, life was like a comedy of errors for them. If Sam didn't know any better, he'd say that God wanted him to fuck his brother.