A/N: This fic was beta'd twice by isaacsapphire and then I went and change the silly thing yet again so if you spot any mistakes, I own them all. Isaac, thank you, thank you for all of your suggestions and all of your help. You are totally awesome and wonderful!

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The first afternoon

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Dean's eyes light up in approval at the tanned and lean bodies sprawled out in all directions baking in the sun. He looks over at Sam and realizes his brother is already basking in the attention of some nubile girls who nudge each other, giggling behind their hands when he gives them his killer dimples.

Huh.

Dean's heart thumps uncomfortably. He wishes Sam would look at him like that.

He tries to shake the feeling, tries to concentrate, because this is serious business and he has to focus, damn it. Focus on the facts, on finding the big bad and offing it, keep his mind on that and away from his brother's big brown eyes, rock-hard muscles and his fucking smell, the thick and heady scent making him dizzy, threatening to end Dean's sanity right there.

Focus, you idiot!

Soon enough, they've gotten a group of girls chatting about the hunt that's brought them here. They look so much alike that in his mind, Dean sorts them by bathing suit color.

Five disappearances so far in as many years, all from this lake and they all happen before Memorial weekend. This last girl was a fifteen year old who'd been assigned to clean the showers and she'd been gone only a few minutes when the other employees heard a horrible screaming and rushed to help. When they'd reached the showers, they'd slid through a pool of blood into the steamy room, hot water blasting out of every nozzle but the girl was nowhere to be found. The police had no leads but were still questioning family and friends while the media was sensationalizing the "Lake Ghost Murderer".

Puzzled, Dean asks the teens, "Who says it's a ghost? Maybe it's an ex-boyfriend or stalker or something…someone that wanted her dead. Hell, maybe she beat someone out of being head cheerleader and they wanted revenge…"

Pink Bikini explains, "They say someone survived once and they said they saw a ghost with a knife that kept trying to stab them but the person got away. That was the only summer no one disappeared. It was like the ghost could only try once or something." She shrugs in confusion.

Blue Bra with Boy Shorts interjects, "When this girl disappeared, we knew we were safe until next summer. That's why we're all here, otherwise, it'd be deserted until-"She doesn't finish but the implication is clear, until someone died.

Sam asks curiously, "Well, if there's only one a year, why do you all have to stick together when you go take showers now?"

They all exchange looks and Red Tankini shrugs before replying, "Because maybe this will be the one year where two girls are taken."

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Sam turns his head towards Dean, talking in undertones, "I need to find internet access to research this but first let's go check out the shower where she was found."

Sam's breath on his face is warm and sweet-smelling and all Dean would have to do is turn his head a little and their lips would be touching.

Ok, this shit needs to stop!

Dean grits his teeth, feeling the nervous tic in his cheek start dancing and he shoves away the erotic thoughts his brain is sending to his lower region, replying, "You go do that. I'll track down some staff and ask if they've heard any local legends about a girl getting killed in the shower at one of these lakes. I'll find out if there's a library nearby, too."

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"Nothing special in the showers, Dean, blood stains were washed away and nothing else in there."

"Ok. The library's closed for the holiday weekend, Sam, but there's a ranger station with internet access on the campgrounds. I found out something, too. Seems there was a girl raped and killed by some drunks at Ausable Chasm Lake about five years ago, just before the disappearances started. Authorities found her in the shower dead. She'd bled out from internal injuries. The drunks were caught but ended up not being convicted because the bum fuck cops around here put the suspects in the same room together before they were questioned. They got off on a technicality."

Sam whistles through his teeth, "Shit! Sure sounds like the makings of a pissed off ghost. Did you get a name?"

"Laurie…Laurie Campbell. She was sixteen."

"Let's head over to the ranger station. You get directions?"

Dean holds up a hand drawn map, "Even better."

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"Dean, according to the police report, four men were charged in the case when an eye-witness placed them in the bar where Laurie had gone to use the phone. The owner, one Harriet Stowe, let her in because it was the only phone in a five mile radius. She said the men harassed Laurie from the minute she walked in until she left and they took off right after. Mrs. Stowe called the cops but by the time they found the girl, it was too late. She testified against them but they were released anyway. Shortly after that, her bar was burned to the ground because of 'faulty electrical wiring'."

"Nice."

"Right? But here's the kicker. All four of those men are dead now and they all died unusually horrific deaths…let's see, one was crushed when his cement truck started dumping out its contents all over him…another was beheaded while snowmobiling in a field that had no barb-wire fences so no one knows what cut his head off. Third one had his throat ripped out by wild dogs – dogs that were never found, by the way – and the fourth one was crushed to death when an elevator cable broke and he plunged down 20 floors."

Dean makes a face, "Ouch. Ok, so our girl got her revenge, right? So why keep killing people? I mean, what's she still hanging around for?"

Sam shrugs, "I guess when we find that out, we'll be able to stop her. We need to find the bar owner tomorrow and ask her a few questions. I got an address but the ranger told me we should wait so he can call her and tell her we're coming. Can't do much more tonight, I guess. May as well stop by Camp 22 and have a few beers, huh?"

Sam gives him a grin, eyes laughing down at him and Dean feels his knees go weak at the sight, breath hitching in his chest and he's hanging by a frayed thread, staring up into Sam's handsome face, feeling like he's gonna snap in two any minute now. Instead, he firms his jaw, reaching out to clap a hand on his brother's shoulder, trying to make this normal, natural.

"Oh, Sammy…you read my mind."

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They make a quick stop at the Meacham Mini-Mart to buy ice, beer and wood. Sam finds a stash of Johnny Walker in the back of the store and tries to catch Dean's eye, holding up a bottle for his approval but Dean's deep in thought, staring into space, worrying about when he's gonna tell Sam, if he's gonna tell Sam and what the hell he's even gonna say when he's knee-deep in his confession.

"Dean!" Sam calls softly and Dean's eyes land on his, notice what he's holding and gives a nod, holding up two fingers. Sam grabs another bottle and walks to the counter. Dean glances sideways with narrowed eyes, furtively watching Sam's ass move under his jeans, knowing that if he molded his hands over those tight cheeks, they would fit perfectly into his palms. When Sam turns around with an inquiring look, his breath stops, just stops and he can't get in a good inhale even if he wanted to, the hot need for Sam wrecking him, wiping away what little composure he has. He has to hide it from view until he can get it under control so he grabs the first thing on the shelf in front of him, a mosquito coil. He belatedly adds two more, a citronella candle and a can of Off to their purchases.

"Dude, you're a little obsessive on the whole bug thing."

Dean shrugs nonchalantly, heart thumping at the thought that maybe Sam saw him looking, saw his hot lust before he could mask it, and that fear makes him stutter on his words, "I-I want to keep my blood, Sam. Let the little bastards find someone else to chew on."

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Back at camp, Sam starts up the grill while Dean opens beer for them. The smell of hamburgers and hotdogs cooking has Dean's stomach in overdrive and he's drooling by the time the food's ready. Sam plops a burger down on his bun and Dean doesn't even stop to add ketchup, just scoops it up for a big juicy bite.

"Thish ish delichioush" he mumbles with full mouth.

"You're gonna choke talking with your mouth full like that."

Dean swallows thickly, "At least I'll die happy, Sam."

He starts to take another bite when Sam picks up a hotdog and pops it into his mouth, biting down with closed eyes and a groan of pleasure, chewing and swallowing quick.

Whoa, that's like-

The hottest fucking thing he's ever seen. Like steaming, blazing, fire in his pants hot. Volcanic eruption hot. Melt into a puddle of goo hot.

Dean feels the spit dry up in his mouth as Sam's tongue snakes out to give the hot dog a lick before biting down again, strong jaws working hard, chewing, swallowing it down.

Two more bites and the hotdog's gone but the image of Sam eating it is burned into Dean's brain, making him feel stupid and slow, his mouth hanging open, his hand still holding the burger in mid-air.

A clammy sweat breaks out on his forehead and he feels feverish, sluggish, his skin drawing up tight over his bones, and all he can think of is how that mouth, that tongue would feel on him, rolling over his dick like it did to that hotdog and oh, shit, he'd better shake this off before Sam looks over at him and sees-

Dean mechanically moves his hand to his mouth, taking a bite of the burger, but now it's like chewing cardboard, dry and tasteless on his tongue. He chews automatically, careful not to look at Sam's face but watching his hands instead as he turns the meat on the grill.

Graceful and gentle, the fingers are impossibly long and the palms are huge, able to make him feel safe and loved when those hands are resting on his shoulder or slapping him on the back.

God, he loves those hands.

Unaware, he gives a deep sigh, pulled up from his gut and takes another bite of food, uninterested but needing to stop his racing thoughts, needing to fill himself with normal.

"You ok?" Sam's voice reaches his ears.

He glances up at Sam and away, scared to meet his eyes for more than a few seconds, scared he'll be bare and raw and Sam will see his heart in his eyes and that would be bad, very bad because he needs to pick just the perfect moment before he tells Sam.

"Yeah, Sam. I'm good." He lies through his teeth because he knows he'll never be good again, not till he's gets this freaking weight off his shoulders.

"You want a hot dog?" Sam asks.

And Dean stands up, turns away and chokes out the only words his brain has to offer, "Holy Shit, Sam."

And he goes to sit in the car leaving Sam staring after him in confusion.

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Sam wants to wash up before going to the party so they grab swimsuits and soap, making their way back to the beach, bypassing the showers with unspoken agreement.

The setting sun draws long shadows across the sand, cooler air creeping in, kicking up a breeze that crosses the lake. An owl calls out a lonely wail, bats fly past and the peepers sing to one another through the trees.

Sam hands Dean his newly filled scotch flask, watching his brother take a deep swig before he drinks from his own bottle. Only one couple remains on the beach and they're making out hot and heavy, hands running over each other as they roll around on the sand together.

Dean watches with unabashed interest, tipping back the flask a few too many times as they kiss and moan into each other.

Sam glances over at the couple and then back at Dean before mumbling under his breath, "Dude, stop staring at them."

Dean smirks at him, "It's kinda hot, Sam. Live porn…"

"It's sick, man. Stop it."

Dean sighs, turns away and then slants a calculating look back at Sam, like he's made a decision and damn the consequences. He starts shucking off clothes quickly, stopping only when he's buck naked.

Sam's mouth falls open as he grabs a shirt to cover his bare-ass brother, "What the fuck, Dean?"

"They aren't paying attention, Sam. Where are my trunks?"

Sam manages to find them without releasing his grip on the shirt he's holding, "Well, I am paying attention and I don't need to see your dick, dude."

Dean chuckles "Aww…come on…I see you looking. You're impressed, aren't you?"

"Impressed with your stupidity, maybe. Get in the water or get your swimsuit on, Dean. One or the other, cause I'm dropping the shirt in thirty seconds."

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Dean pulls on his trunks and Sam throws the shirt down forcefully, squashing a crazy need to stomp it into the sand, an unreasonable surge of anger at his brother coursing through him. What the hell? It's only Dean being Dean and Sam should know better than to let it get to him. Holy shit, his heart is pounding, though. He wasn't ready to see Dean all naked like that. And boy, did he see…

Dean was right about one thing. Even half-hard, what Sam had seen of Dean was very impressive and yes, he had looked, damn it!

But, then he'd been looking for quite a few years now, anyway. It was why he'd gone back on the road with Dean again when he was at Stanford, when his brother had shown up asking for his help in finding Dad.

It was also one of the reasons he'd left for school in the first place.

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Five Years Ago

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That night, when Dean had come for him and they'd wrestled each other, it had all come back and hit him hard, like being slammed into a wall at a hundred miles an hour. He'd looked up at Dean, who was straddling him, cock pressed up against Sam's belly, smiling down into his face and felt something snap, like a twisting deep in his gut and he was lost again.

He'd known, right at that second, just how stupid and freaking futile leaving had been because the wanting, the desire for Dean had never gone away. It had only been buried in his subconscious and now, there it was again, ballooning out of control, the fragile hope, the helpless love, the awful consuming need for Dean that he'd fought against most of his life. When it had turned from brother-love to passionate hunger, he didn't know, didn't care really, because suddenly, one day, he was shit-deep in it, no denying it any more and he'd been lusting after Dean ever since.

And he'd been hiding from himself ever since.

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Late afternoon, first day

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He looks around and the couple is gone, leaving only an imprint in the sand where they'd been. Great, he thinks, probably went to report us for lewd behavior.

Disgusted, Sam goes into the pine trees to change, looking around to make sure he's alone before stripping down. He's got a hard-on now, thanks to his stupid brother and mentally curses at the image of naked Dean still in his head.

Christ, could he be any more stunning with his kissable lips and gorgeous green eyes and those freckles?

He struggles into his suit, pushing down on his erection and hopes he can get in the water before Dean sees it. He peeks out, breathing a sigh of relief because Dean's already in the water, diving and swimming, so he won't notice Sam so much.

He grabs the soap on his way down to the water and wades in quick, feeling the bottom…velvety soft, not mucky like he expected…it doesn't give under his weight but holds him, caressing his feet like a mossy sponge. The water is cool on his hot skin and he stretches, enjoying the feel of it before striking out into a dive, kicking his feet and staying under until his lungs want to burst. He comes up with a gasp, shaking back his hair and treading water.

"This is nice!" Dean calls out, "Throw me some soap."

He catches it gracefully when Sam tosses it over and lathers up, scrubbing himself roughly before he dives under to rinse, coming up near Sam and shaking his head, splashing Sam in the eyes.

"Dean, are you ever gonna grow up?" Sam says in a tired voice.

Dean laughs, "Never!"

He throws the soap back at Sam before flipping over on his back and floating, "This is awesome!"

Sam quickly washes and swims for a while before sighing deeply, treading water near Dean and repeating what he said before, "We did a good thing coming here, Dean."

His brother's eyes are closed, a small smile playing on his lips and his face is the most relaxed Sam's ever seen it, "Yeah, Sammy. We sure did."

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Ok, what the hell did he just do?

Dean doesn't know what on earth just possessed him to strip down naked in front of his brother but the look on Sam's face was worth the price of admission. First surprise, followed by sheer panic and then, just when Dean was ready to kick himself in the ass, calling himself six kinds of a fool, he'd seen it.

Sam's eyes had roamed over his naked body, over his dick and flicked away, snapping back up to his face for just a second and there it was, a hot, hungry look, molten lava glittering at him, just a flash of quicksilver, hidden as fast as Sam could manage.

There's no time to turn it upside down and examine every nuance of the look so Dean relies on gut instinct, a cautious hope spreading over him, bringing with it a shaky courage that lessens the weight on his shoulders and makes him breathe easier.

Maybe tonight, after the party, he'll tell Sam how he feels. He just needs to pick the right moment.

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The first night

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The night comes quietly with the setting of the sun. Orange and red wash the clouds, the sun dropping out of sight within minutes and the moon peeks out over the lake, slashing a glittering reflection where the water washes up onto the beach.

Red sky at night, sailor's delight.

The lake and the campground change with the coming of the moon.

There's an excitement that isn't there in the lazy heat of day, a twitching of flesh, nerves alive with anticipation, energy real and raw that takes over even the meekest people and fills them with bubbly hope.

There is no make-up, no hair gel or fine attire to hide behind here. There is only the natural beauty that comes of washing in fresh water with soap that floats nearby, the sun kissed skin that hides every blemish, the grit of sand in the clothes and the tangled hair combed with fingers.

Here, in the light of the moon and the campfire, everyone is beautiful.

The party's kicking and shaking by the time Sam and Dean get there. An hour later with lots of shots and beer chasers imbibed, Dean's lost track of Sam in the crowd, swaying on his feet, feeling no pain and enjoying the undivided attention of three beautiful young ladies.

He's too drunk to tell Sam which side of the tent he wants to sleep on tonight, much less come clean about how much he's lusting after him. He's gonna have to wait but he's so fucking horny right now, after spending all day with his hot, gorgeous brother that he's gonna either have to get laid or jerk it off because he can't even think until his dick's taken care of.

Dean focuses on the girls in front of him, trying to calculate which of them is even close to legal age so maybe he can get some action for little Dean-o when he hears the music start, loud and thumping and the people around the campfire are whooping and clapping their hands to the beat.

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He sees bodies moving past the fire and it takes his addled brain a moment to register that one of the figures is Sam, wearing only a pair of jeans and his boots, dancing with a girl to the beat of the song and the cheering of the fireside crowd. Their hips are grinding down on each other, Sam's hands are holding her ass tight against his crotch and he bends to kiss her, hips keeping time to the music, rolling into hers erotically and she's kissing him back in a drunken passion.

Dean watches Sam, mouth hanging open, at first glad that Sam's having a good time and is probably gonna get laid tonight (so much for his comfy sleeping bag) and then, when they break the kiss and just start dancing, watching Sam move his body to the music.

He's never seen Sam dance before, which is probably a real good thing because he suddenly forgets the three beauties standing in front of him, suddenly forgets the hunt that brought them here, and the rest of the world just falls away as he stares at his brother with a pounding heart, licking his tongue over dry lips, desire pulsing out of him in waves.

Jesus, would you just look at him…

The blood roars in his head so loud that it drowns out all sound, dead quiet now and all he can see is Sam. His pulse is drumming through his body and he can't seem to draw in a good gulp of air, the night pressing in on him, making taking in a breath (and thinking) damn near impossible.

Dean doesn't even realize he's moving until he's standing in front of Sam, his face flushed with passion, green eyes moving hotly over his brother's body as Sam bucks and rocks his hips, laughing down into the face of the girl he's dancing with.

Dean watches his brother stiffen suddenly, his back going ramrod straight and he turns, eyes locking onto Dean's, the air between them heavy and pulsing.

Dean can't get his damn walls up fast enough, too much liquor and too much Sam, it happens too quick and he's wide open and raw now, the hunger for Sam in the heat of his gaze, in the lower lip caught between his teeth and in the throbbing pulse fluttering wildly at the base of his throat.

Dean leans forward, listing towards his brother without conscious thought. The ache for Sam's body, for that sweet bare chest to slide up against him, all hot and sweaty, takes him over and consumes him, eating him alive from the inside out and he's shaking with the need of it.

Holy shit, he's beautiful.

Sam takes one step towards him and then another, lips forming his name but Dean can't hear anything over the blood pounding in his head. They stare into each other for a moment more and suddenly, he's jerked forward, dragged away from the fire and the crowd, Sam yanking him along behind like a cowed puppy and Dean can't do anything but trail after blindly, all the fight gone out of him. He's stumbling over downed trees and twisted roots, pulled by his brother's strong hand, following Sam deeper into the woods, going wherever Sam leads.

His stupid heart won't let him do anything else.

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