"Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil."

- Ephesians 6:11

"For every battle of the warrior is with confused noise, and garments rolled in blood; but this shall be with burning and fuel of fire."

- Isaiah 9:5


Nothing soothed Dean's nerves more than a long stretch of asphalt and the gentle purr of his baby as he lovingly pushed her past 70mph. His dad had called a couple of days ago with a lead on a vamp not far from town, so Dean had obediently taken off. It was a run of the mill kind of case and two days later he'd nipped it in the bud. God damn son of a bitch had sank its filthy fangs in his shoulder, but a quick splash of the fifteen-dollar whiskey he'd left in the car and a makeshift bandage to patch it up had done the trick; it was nothing compared to what he'd dealt with before.

He was about an hour out of town when the fatigue began to hit. He hadn't slept since he'd left the abandoned house in the early hours of yesterday morning and now the adrenaline and high of the kill was beginning to wane. There was no way he was going to hold up at some dingy motel when he was this close; he needed to get back to Sammy, so he pulled in at the nearest Gas N' Sip and dragged himself tiredly into the store.

He grabbed the nearest candy bar from the shelf and stood impatiently behind a dark haired man just slightly shorter than himself. He needed coffee, like yesterday.

"That'll be ten dollars." Dean heard the sales woman say.

"Thanks." The guy in front of him replied, his deep voice a weirdly familiar timbre.

Dean stared blankly as the guy turned briefly around to look at him, a small smile pulling at his mouth and crinkles forming around his friendly blue eyes. Fuck they were blue. But that voice... he knew that voice from somewhere and he couldn't remember where the hell from. He'd certainly never seen the guy before; he would have remembered eyes like that.

"Uh, Sir?" The sales lady said, her high-pitched voice dragging him from his daze.

"Sorry. Just this and a coffee please. Black." He replied distractedly.


"How'd it go?" John asked as soon as he answered the phone. No hello; figures.

"Short and sweet. There was just the one bloodsucker and she didn't exactly make it difficult." Dean replied as he leant again the hood of the Impala and took a sip of his coffee.

"And you cleaned up the mess alright?" John drilled.

"Cut the son of a bitch up and burnt the pieces." He answered dutifully.

"You've checked up on Sammy?"

"Yeah, I called him as soon as I was done. He's been studying at the house all weekend and having zero fun." He informed him.

"Right, well it's probably going to be a little while yet before I get this one in the bag. It's something bigger than I'd expected, so you're going to have to get by alone for a while longer." John informed him.

"Do you want me to come out? I could help if you want; give you some backup." Dean quickly chimed in.

"No. Dean, I need you to watch out for your brother. I'll call you if anything else comes up."

"Yes Sir."

"Look after Sammy."

"Yes Sir."

John hung up.

Dean pocketed his cell phone and took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders back and then proceeded to gulp his too hot coffee down so he could get back on the road. If he wasn't so accustomed to it, he might have felt a little hurt by the lack of concern his dad had shown him. Dean had always been the soldier, the instrument his dad used to protect Sammy and obey his every command. Dean didn't know any different and as far as he was concerned, protecting Sammy was his job. He'd always done it, ever since that night where the house had burst into flames with his mother inside it and his dad had told him to run. He didn't have anything outside of Sam; his whole existence had practically amounted to keeping him safe, caring for him, raising him whilst he dad went out for days at a time on hunts. Sam's life came first, that was always clear to him; his dad didn't even have to say it.

Dean really wished he could go out and help his dad though. They'd agreed to stay on in the same town so Sam could finish his senior year in one place, but Dean was climbing the walls. The vamp hunt had been a well-needed break but instead of scratching the itch he had made it ten times worse. He needed the fight, the kill, and the release. When he was out there killing things that went bump in the night he was distracted, focused on nothing but the hunt. Dean thought if he could just keep hunting day in day out that all the other shit would go away.

He thought a little bitterly of his brother. Sammy had always been his own person, didn't let their dad tell him what to do or what to think. But more than that, Sam was so much more than Dean would ever be. Dean was a killer. He was a cold and bloodthirsty killer. He liked the adrenaline, the simplicity and purity of it, the conviction that he was saving people, saving lives. He hated how much he enjoyed it and he was glad that Sammy had his eye on a different future, a better fate than what would undoubtedly be his own. Dean wanted him to stick around so they could be a family, but he knew it was selfish to drag Sam down to the pits of hell with him.


"Sam?" He called as he entered the house, his gun comforting in his hand, on guard as always.

"In here Dean! I ordered pizza!" Sammy called from the kitchen in the back.

Dean smiled as he walked in to see his brother's gargantuan frame folded behind the table, a massive slice of pizza in his hand and his mouth hanging open to catch the strings of melted cheese.

"How's the studying going?" Dean asked as he sat down opposite.

"Pretty well I think. I've been reading some really cool stuff about Native American art."

"Sounds fascinating." Dean drawled sarcastically, a wide smile spreading across his face as Sam punched him in the shoulder.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"How'd the hunt go?" Sam asked after a couple of minutes.

"Nothing I couldn't handle. The vamp chick was a disgrace to her own species to be honest, couldn't even cover her trail. I tracked her down, the freaking bitch ran at me and tried to take a chunk out of my shoulder, and then one clean swipe was all it took. It's a shame really because she was actually kind of hot." Dean said wistfully.

"Your shoulder okay though?" Sammy asked with a concerned frown.

"Yep, patched myself up nice and neat and then I was straight back on the road back to you and your sorry ass." Dean smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at him.

"Let me see. You might need stitches or something." Sam said, nodding at him to take off the layers.

Dean shrugged out of his jacket, flannel and t-shirt and peered down at the bandage that was now stained red with blood.

Sam shuffled himself closer to his brother and carefully began to unwrap the dressing, his hands gentle and his face contorted in concentration. "Yep, you need a couple of stitches. Wait here, it'll only take me a sec."

Dean was patient as his brother began to stitch him up with the floss, his face a stoic mask as the needle threaded in and out of the torn up flesh.

"You shouldn't have gone alone. I should have gone with you, stopped you from throwing yourself into the fire." Sam muttered with a shake of his head, handing the Jack to Dean once he'd sloshed some over the wound again.

"Nah, it was an easy case. You belonged here, studying up to be some big shot lawyer so you can break me out of jail the next time I wind up back there." Dean joked with a wink before taking a swig of the fiery liquid.

"Well dad shouldn't send you out alone. Whether you think so or not, you should have had backup." He replied.

"Dude, I'm 22. I can look after myself now."

"Would you let me go on a case by myself?" Sam asked as he put on the fresh dressing.

"Of course not. Don't be stupid."

"But I'm supposed to let you?"

"I can handle myself Sammy. Dad told me to go and leave you at home, so that's what I did. I can't let anything happen to you on my watch." He explained seriously.

Sam nodded silently and stood up. "You should get some rest. You look like hell."

Sam went to bed not long after that leaving Dean alone with his thoughts. He hadn't thought twice when his dad told him to hunt alone, but now he thought about it, he got what Sam was saying. There was no way in hell he'd ever let his little brother go out against those evil sons of bitches without any backup. He knew he was different though. It didn't matter if something happened to him, not really. Dean wondered if that was what made him so good at the job. He was reckless and took the risks that needed to be taken to put some of the monsters down because he didn't really care whether he got through it alive or not. Except, of course, he knew he needed to be there to look after Sammy. He couldn't leave his little brother alone and unprotected. He couldn't fail his dad like that. He had a duty, a job. That was what kept him going everyday.