A/N I'm sorry for taking a bit longer than last time. I want to make sure my continuity and characterizations are accurate. If you find a booboo, please let me know. I'm not sure how far I'll take this story; I am notorious for long stories (see my Transformers fanfic where just one chapter is longer than most people's entire stories.) Serious Thank yous go to everyone who's taken time to read and comment on my work! :D

DISSOCIATION

Dean sprang to life, grabbed his jacket and instantly called Bobby. Only the voice mail replied. "Abby says Mason's missing. I'm going to help her find him." He snapped the phone shut and followed her out the front door.

"Marco!" she called. "Marco!"

The shepherd-rottweiler mix bounded out of nowhere, shaking its tailless rear and panting with excitement. Abby gave the dog a sock to sniff. "Go find Mason! Find Mason!"

Abby and Dean watched as 'Marco' sniffed across the yard, rounding trees, bushes and the fence. Dean wondered what was taking Bobby so long to answer his message. "Does uh, does Mason sleepwalk a lot?"

"Not as much as he used to," Abby pulled her own phone from her pocket. "Hello? Mike, I can't come get you-no, Mason's missing again. I got the dog on it, yes. Can't it-Hold on. Dean?"

He met her worried expression, staying cool.

"Just a minute!" Abby growled into the phone. "Dean, would you mind searching? Mike needs me to get some information for him. It's really important."

Dean shrugged. "Sure. Uh, the dog... won't eat me alive, will it?"

"Marco? Oh, she adores you. Otherwise, she would have peeled your skin off already if she thought you were a threat-YES, MIKE, I'M GETTING IT!" she retreated to the house just as Marco nosed deep into the grass by the fence and leapt over it. Dean scampered to keep up, racing as the four-legged GPS system dashed down the sidewalk, passing several houses, crossed the street and zipped by an apartment complex. Dean spotted Mason as he causally crossed a busy intersection. He stopped midway and turned toward a long bridge.

"Mason!" Dean yelled. He stopped at the moment, drawing deep breaths as two cars swerved to avoid the idiot in the road. Marco waited for a rickety, beat-up old Geo to pass then she leapt into the roadway.

Dean called for her then called Mason again. "Damnit! Don't make me come out there and pick you up like a girl!" Mason remained unresponsive even as Marco licked his hand for attention. Dean waited for a taxi to come and go. It ineffectively honked at Mason. Dean glanced to the right and cringed as a stampede of oncoming traffic inched toward them.

"Mason!" he called again and ran into the intersection himself. "SAM!" He finally yelled.

Mason stopped and bowed his head, his hand went to his eyes as Marco tried to get him to move. Dean pounded the ground, caught up and laid a hand on Mason's shoulder. The traffic roared just a block away.

"Mason," Dean reiterated. "We need to-" he paused and listened to what Mason kept repeating:

"I'm not okay. I'm not okay. I'm not okay."

"No," Dean answered, using Abby's line. "But you're safe. We found you. Me and Marco. We found you." The first cars came their way and Dean led Marco and Mason to the road divider, shouldering the bridge on their left. He wrapped his arms around Mason as cars and trucks roared past them, honking now and again. Mason wept on Dean's shoulder, repeating "save me, please save me."

"Sh, sh, sh." Dean just held him as the parade of automobiles thinned. Marco sneezed and shook her head. A true blue Kia Sedona rolled up and the driver's window rolled down. Abby put the car in park.

"Oh my god. Is he okay?"

"He's shaking pretty badly," Dean answered. He remained still as Abby slid out the vehicle and led Marco around the back. She returned as two semis rumbled toward them. Abby stripped off her sweater and laid it over Mason's back while the trucks thundered by. "Come on! She yelled above another car's horn. She and Dean aided Mason around the Sedona and into the back seat. Dean hopped in after and helped Mason settle. He reached for the sliding door and caught Abby pocketing an unused hypodermic needle. She slammed the door before he chanced to ask.

Dean turned back to Mason and found him bowed over, shaking. Abby sternly ordered Marco to remain put as she navigated the road and slowly turned left. Dean glanced at the dog whose paws propped her on the edge of the seat, one ear perked with concern.

"Mason?" Dean asked quietly. "Can you-are you hearing me? Mason?" he sighed. "Oh, man, you are a mess. Come here." he gently maneuvered Mason to sit up and lean on his shoulder. Mason trembled and said nothing even as Abby pulled the Sedona into the driveway and parked.

She unlatched her seatbelt as her keys tinkled. "Marco, come on, girl." Abby quietly closed the door and a moment later, slid the side door open. Marco obeyed, disembarking. Abby stood there and waited.

Dean rubbed Mason's back in small soothing circles. "You know, the train has reached its destination. I hear the food here is good. How about you and me go raid the kitchen and make some coffee?"

Mason slowly sat up and searched Dean's eyes. Dean read exhaustion there; inexpressible torment prolonged by countless years. He knew that look far too well. With a deep breath, he tried another tantalizing idea: "Coffee," he repeated. "Abby has that chocolate macadamia stuff and I'm dying to try it." That earned him a light turn of the eyes and a slight nod, acquiescing to the idea.

Mason sat at the kitchen table, trying to rub away an oncoming headache. Roxi took a place at his side while Dean made coffee per Abby's directions and Abby made a light meal.

Mason rested his head against his hand, hiding his eyes and emotions with his fingers. Once he felt he had a tight reign on them he drew a deep breath. "Abby?" his voice still trembled with guilt and regret.

"Not a word of it, Mason," she instantly answered. Abby kept her voice firm but gentle. "I am not discussing that option. If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times." She set a plate before him with strawberries and half a bagel. "I am NOT having you committed." she wiped hair from his brow and kissed him. "Eat."

Dean poured coffee for himself and Mason and settled at the table, not really expecting food. Bagels and strawberries didn't exactly sound like a tankful. He pushed the gourmet coffee in front of Mason. "You know, next time you think about traveling, you really should just rent a car."

"They don't allow automobiles where I was going, Dean. Besides, I can't drive." Mason ate a strawberry then sipped his coffee. "Bobby's here."

Just after he said it, the doorbell rang and Abby answered it, greeting Bobby. Dean stared with incredulity.

Mason picked up the bagel and put it back down with a frown. Roxi whined next to him and noisily yawned. "Dean, I owe you an apology," Mason said as Bobby and Abby entered the kitchen, chattering about the morning traffic. Even on a Sunday, Green Bay bustled with activity.

"Apologize for what?" Dean read Mason's expressions, searching for something beyond the overall haunted look.

"I know you were here just to get answers and instead you ended up chasing after my sorry ass." Mason pinched off a piece of bagel and gave it to Roxi. "I'm sorry you had to find out that I'm high maintenance."

Dean raised his brows with a slight nod of agreement. Bobby sat on Dean's left and gave Mason the proverbial once-over. "You doin' alright this morning, Mason?" he asked quietly.

"No," Mason replied without meeting his eyes. "I tried to make the great escape but your friend here reminded me I was not the rabbit from Wonderland and I had to go home."

Dean shrugged then grinned when Abby set a plate of waffles in front of him. "What can I say? It's Mason Season and I was afraid you'd get shot." Dean watched Mason out the corner of his eye and was not fooled by the blank expression; he saw the ghost of a smile, the twitch of the upper lip. Dean took his first bite of waffle and closed his eyes with a low moan.

Mason lightly laughed. "I tell Abby she needs to open her own place."

"Not going to happen," the woman grunted. "And are you finished yet, Mason?"

"No, Ma'am."

A breath of silence passed before Bobby spoke up. "You know, Dean, I need to get hard copies made off my camera."

"Right." Dean took a swig of coffee. "Photos of the peep show you took of Totem and friends."

Mason's hazel eyes caught Bobby's and he swallowed a large piece of bread. "You took photos?"

"Bobby nodded. "I got a camera that shifts between regular light and infrared."

Mason's eyes went wide. "Brave man." he set his empty coffee cup on the plate as Dean and Bobby nailed him with inquisitive eyes. "Don't give me that look," Mason retorted. "I'd rather clean a loaded gun than go out there."

"You never even seen the place," Dean accused.

"Yeah, I have. Not up close and personal. But I have copies of Camila's photos."

"MASON!" Abby hissed.

Mason flushed hard and covered his eyes. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" He abandoned them for the basement, Roxi followed at a leisure trot. Dean turned from Mason's exit to his benefactor.

"What's wrong? What did he say?"

Abby and shook her head. "The university has a place where you can get hard copies off your camera, Bobby."

Bobby squirmed. "Well ... there's probably a Copy Center Dean and I can go to. I mean, we're not here to cause trouble."

Abby sighed with resignation and crossed Dean's line of sight. "Do you believe he's your brother?"

Dean swallowed hard and nodded, forcing breath to undo the knot in his chest. "Yeah. Yeah I do."

She stared at the table, indecision troubled her eyes. "I know you saw the hypodermic when we picked him up, Dean. I'm sure it scared you."

"Hell, yeah. What was that all about?"

"He's been doing really well this weekend. I mean, Mason has his good days and his really, really bad days. He's come a long way but there are days when it's two steps forward and six steps back. Will you be staying the night again?"

Dean shrugged. "Only if you want me to."

She pursed her lips and looked to Bobby. "Let's go to the university and get hard copies off the camera so Mason can compare them to my cousin's work."

Bobby paused before the next bite. Abby's face told him there was no arguing. He nodded in silent agreement and finished his breakfast.

Dean wasn't fooled. He knew Abby took Bobby out of the house for a reason. Now it was just he and Mason (Sam). Dean drew a deep breath, tracked through the house and descended the carpeted stairs. He sat on the second to the last step and wished for a beer. He found Mason at a desk, elbow on the desktop, chin on hand. He stared at the computer's slide show screen saver.

Dean pulled on half a smile. "You know, nine out of ten experts agree that brooding may be hazardous to your health."

Mason shook his head. "All I ever do is fuck up."

Dean feigned shock. "Did you just use the F-word?"

Mason clenched his teeth. Dean saw him fight for self control. "I have this great propensity to find or make trouble no matter where I go. I hear it whenever I dream, I get it from Abby... I even managed to piss Mike off once. They're good people and I just... don't know what I'd do without them. Don't know what to do with myself."

Dean tried to read Mason's body language beyond the self-recrimination and regret. He saw the little Sammy there, a child who tried and tried only to fail. Dean's heart ached. He drew a ragged breath and searched his skull for a new topic. "So! This cousin of Abby's: is she a PI?"

Mason shook his head. He turned round, hands planted firmly on his thighs. "She's a hunter, Dean. And I'm not talking about furry things."

"So... she's all Boba Fett, the next best thing to Dawg without the jail time in Mexico?"

Mason hesitated, eyes focused on the wall. "Not really. More like Dan Akroyd without the proton packs and dancing toaster."

Dean wondered when hunting was going to come into the situation. It seemed far too coincidental. How did Sam manage to land with hunters? "Okay," he accepted. "So why did Abby get all charged up when you said Camila's name?" Mason wanted to answer but shut his mouth and looked miserable. Dean nodded, understanding the answer could land (Sam) into more trouble. "Don't worry about it," he waved off, "Not that big a deal."

Hollow silence passed between them. The border collie nudged Mason's hand and he continued to mindlessly pet her. Dean fixed his stare at the board where Mason kept all his subconscious scribbles. Just when Dean found something to ask, Mason popped a question of his own:

"When you came looking for me, I saw nothing but the road and darkness. And I heard you call me 'Sam'. Was that the name of a friend?"

Dean looked to the floor, hoping not to choke up. His mouth went dry. "More than a friend. He was my little brother."

"Was? You're not brothers anymore?"

Dean met Mason's eyes and found it close to impossible to say anything because he was Sam and wasn't. He chose to be tactful and euphemistic. "Sam was... taken from me a few years ago."

"That must have been awful. Did they find who murdered him?"

Dean pasted his heart-sick gaze upon the board, noticing how Mason subconsciously wrote his name maSoN.

"I'm sorry," Mason frowned. "It's none of my business."

Dean re-read all the signatures: maSoN. maSoN. "How about you?" he asked with a shaky voice. "Abby tells me your head is a blank page beyond two years."

Mason grunted. "That's putting it mildly."

Dean found composure and faced his estranged brother. "So, from the horse's mouth, what's your story?"

Mason shook his head and his eyes took on a distant look. "Not a great deal. Seems I can remember detailed horror in my dreams but when it comes to my life, there's nothing beyond the car crash. I mean..." he sighed, frustrated. "Okay, my very, very first memory was of unbelievable pain and darkness. And after that, a thundering sound shot through my head. I saw light and heard..." he narrowed his eyes, envisioning the scene of the accident. Fire. Black smoke thick like cotton. "I felt people dying, Dean. Some of them screamed as they actually slipped into the ground-Philadelphia Experiment. And then I was walking along the road. I didn't know how I got there, where I was going. I didn't know who I was or if anyone was looking for me. I just walked."

Mason creased his eyes in confusion and helplessness, begging for understanding. "I can't be sure of anything." he mourned. "I had one dream where I stood outside someone's house under a street light. But I can't be sure if it was a dream or if it was an out-of-body experience. I don't recall feeling anything. I was just there and gone."

Mason vigorously petted Roxi while Dean simply watched for new mannerisms. He took comfort in seeing many old, familiar things-the puppy eyes he had not seen in years. Dean ached with reminiscence. Mason (Sam) struggled between confidentiality and releasing old pain. He pushed air out his lungs and swallowed tears. "Abby and Mike have been really good to me; more than I deserve. But, I-I don't belong to anyone, Dean. I'm lost... and, obviously, incapable of taking care of myself. I'd like to know who I am. Yet I'm afraid to find out because I suspect the answer is complex."

"Complex. How?"

Regaining his composure, Mason left Roxi at the chair and attended the board burdened with his notes. "Here," he meekly answered. "All this-" Mason cut himself off. He caught a strange mark among the chaos in his scribbled formulas. With a quick glance to Dean, he unpinned the latest page and compared it to the translations he made off Bobby's photocopy. Dean stood and watched as Mason jotted several characters off his paper and drew a line to three symbols he copied from the seals. His eyes widened with recognition and discovery.

"Talk to me, S-Mason," Dean's stare intensified. "What are you seeing?"

Mason rewrote three characters and added extra lines. "No way," he whispered. "This is closure. And this:" he picked out another pair of characters and added one line but took out two. "This is spellcaster." he stared at the paper in hand a moment then turned to Dean. "Can you help me?"

"Yeah," Dean answered eagerly. "What do you want me to do?"

Mason returned to the collection of scribbles then pointed to a line on the paper he jotted out the day before. "This line here?"

"Yeah?"

"I need to see if there's another one like it."

The two searched through all the pinned papers across the board for fifteen minutes. Dean sneaked looks at Mason's ever serious, concentrating face. Dean realized what God in his dream meant; the choices he'd have to make. Either live the life of normalcy and ignorance with Lisa and Ben or return to the dark world of the supernatural and be with Sam.

He wasn't ready for such a decision yet. Sunday slowly drew to a close and Dean had to make his mind in twenty-four hours.

But did his decision have to be all-or-nothing? Returning his attention to the papers, he found the exact line Mason looked for. "Here, found it," he announced.

"Oh good!" Mason leaned over and read the context, finding the scribbles fairly consistent, right down to his name signed in the same odd way: maSoN. He scrambled to his feet and made three other comparisons.

Dean drew a deep breath, glancing from paper to Mason. "Is there a reason you sign your name like that?"

His eyes, now turned to a grey-green, met Dean's with neutrality. "I don't know. I'm not conscious when I write this stuff. And usually it's all the same stuff except this line."

"Do you know what the line is?"

"Yeah, I think I do. I mean, until you brought me the photocopy, I didn't get it. But... somehow I..."

Marco barked outside. Bark, growl, bark. Mason moaned and smacked his forehead to the chalkboard. Roxi growled, too and wagged her tail. She whined as footsteps clonked the floor upstairs. The front door opened and closed.

Dean heard Abby's voice, Bobby's then another lady's. "Who's up there?"

Mason covered his face with his hand. He slid the chalkboard closed and pinned all the papers to the board as a set of black worker's boots thunked down the steps.

"Hello!" a woman's voice called. "Last time I heard, there was a mad scientist living down here!"

"He's not really here," Mason muttered. "And neither am I."

Dean gawked as a set of lady's muscular legs took the steps with precise attention. "Mason?" her voice commanded attention. "You can't hide forever, you little twit. Oh, hello." White hair in a pageboy cut contrasted a set of stark brown eyes met him with a roughly hewn smile. "You're not Mason."

Mason took his place beside Dean. "This is Dean. He and his friend are staying the weekend with us. Dean, this is Abby's cousin, Camila."

Dressed to kill, Dean silently added, literally. Hunter. She smiled like a gun ready to go off. "Dean... Winchester?" she said it like a cat. "You actually look better than your wanted posters. Been a while since I've heard the law whine about you. I've heard some interesting things about you among other hunters."

"All good, I hope," he tried.

She dragged her attention from his chest to his eyes. "Not all of it. They say never cross Dean Winchester on a bad day-especially when it comes to his brother. Unless, of course, you don't mind your intestines hang outside your body."

Dean gave an attempted smile. "Not to worry yourself, kitten. I've retired. Doing happily ever after in Indiana."

"Is that so? Well, I guess it's true, then. Take the hunter out of hunting; but all too often you just can't do the reverse. Is it mystery and problem-solving that drags us back to this crappy life, or the ass-kicking that we love so much? Inquiring minds are dying to know. In the meantime, Mason, your weirdo friend from New Mexico asked me to bring this to you." She flashed a disc, tapping the casing. "Hope it's what you're after. Had my tail chased through Nevada by the Network. They're still looking for some demon named Crowly. Seems he knows who or what started the whole mess."

Mason took the disc and offered Dean an apologetic look. He cleared a computer of its screen saver and loaded the software. Camila crossed her arms and watched. She glanced at Dean out the corner of her eye, sizing him up in more than one way.

"Retired, huh?" she repeated.

Dean did not think he liked her. He frowned, refused to answer her and stood closer to Mason. The computer screen flipped windows and brought up a display of several markings on cavern walls and reliefs carved into the stone from a mountainside.

A girl's face appeared. Dirt smeared her countenance, her hair whipped and tangled by the wind. Sunglasses hid her eyes from a hot New Mexican sun. "Mason, if Camila doesn't get this to you, you have my permission to spike her next drink. Okay, so we have confirmation here in New Mexy. Splicer says there's another in the Shasta Caverns there in California and you'll love this one:"

Pictures of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, Missouri flipped up. At night, the camera followed two hunters who snuck their way past security. One carried a black light, the other switched the camera to night vision. They shed the light on the man-made arch and the very same symbols as seen in New Mexico glowed.

Mason paused the display and slumped back in the seat. He stared as Bobby descended the stairs.

"We got those photos, here," the older hunter quietly declared. He crossed looks with Dean and handed Mason the hard copies.

Mason swallowed hard and winced at each photo taken, especially those that Bobby took under influence of the infrared light. Peering at the pictures over Mason's shoulder, Dean creased his brow. He did not recall Bobby taking all those photos. Was he really that much out of it?

"There it is," Mason declared. He pointed to a specific character. "Looks like you've been right all along, Camila." his eyes caught hers. "The Water Gates are open and there's more than three."

"Have you figured out about the father-son thing yet?"

"No."

She sighed, exasperated. "We're running out of time, Mason. There's already been signs."

"Well, I am sorry, Camila," Mason snapped, "sometimes the genius has to take a break!"

Bobby's eyes jumped from Mason to Camila. "What signs?"

She ignored him. "Some break! Here you sit on your hands doling out answers rather than joining the rest of us in ridding the world of evil! I mean, what kind of jerk just watches people die?"

Mason's face turned solid with ire, "I am not going out there just because someone says they think I should. It's my choice. And I'm certainly not into joining the Rainbow Girls just because they can't handle themselves."

Camila shot forward and slammed her palm on the desk, forcing Mason to flinch. "Listen here, asshole! People are dying out there and you can help put a stop to that! Someone with abilities like yours shouldn't just shelve themselves in some musty old basement and waste away!"

Dean interceded: "whoa, whoa, whoa." he guided her away from Sam and stepped between them. "Let's just take a breather, children, shall we? I mean, after all whatever is wrong can wait. It can be fixed."

Camila tossed her head, her silky white hair flowed about her shoulders. "You don't know the half of it, Dean. Whatever is going on out there is about to bust wide open. We're not looking at demons or ghosts. We're looking at monsters. The great big scary kind. Kraken."

Dean nodded, standing his ground between she and Mason. "Okay. Okay. It's just that infighting doesn't solve anything. I know from personal experience, okay? Besides, seems to me using Mason's brain is more important than showing his pretty face at the battlefield."

"Not necessarily true," Camila snipped.

"Camila," Mason growled, "shut up."

"You've never seen him fight," she continued in spite. "He's good; he knows how to track-"

Mason jumped out his chair. "I said SHUT UP!"

Dean turned to him. "Okay. Let's calm down and move on. Alright?" Dean caught the flicker of copper in Mason's eyes; the flicker of Sam's own temper. He burned his eyes into the lady hunter and she backed down and backed off. She leaned against the stairs. "There have been sightings of things walking on water. Horrific earthquakes. Volcanic activity."

Dean chanced a guess of his own: "changes in the Aurora Borealis?"

"Yes, exactly," she affirmed. "They all point to the Water Gates and the things walking out of them."

Dean processed the information. He and Sam fought Heaven and Hell and barely won. It seemed the Water Gates would be small potatoes compared to the apocalypse. "So what's the deal with the uh, father-son thing and what's this Network you mentioned earlier?"

Camila glued her gaze to Mason. "Mason's found clues that a father-son team is given the power to control and close the Gates. As to the Network, I'm surprised you've not heard of them... Dean Winchester." she slid her brown eyes onto him with a hint of disappointment.

Dean blinked and chose not to play her dumb little game. "Like I said, Happily Ever After in Indiana. So... how do you plan to find this father-son thing?"

Mason set the stack of photos on the desk. "That's just the thing. We don't have enough information. The Father-Son could be anything from an incantation to an object, a weapon or persons. I might find the answers here." he waved Bobby's photos. "But it will take time to go through it all.

Camila tugged out a business card from a pocket in her jacket sleeve. "This guy here swears there might be an Informant in Washington Island. Sounds something like your job."

Mason took the card and scoffed. "Romero Renniker?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So, he's not that reliable, Camila. He tried to 'modernize' a salt and burn with garlic and got three people killed."

"Mason, he's the one who stopped a fire elemental from taking over Steelstown, Pennsylvania last year-"

"Yeah, but he also believes he saw a unicorn. And this... who knows what he thinks could possibly be here."

Camila shrugged. "So, go check it out. You're a big boy."

Mason scoffed with disbelief, his smile one of annoyance. "I am not going out there."

Camila glanced at Dean who gave her a single shake of his head. She needed to just stop. She rolled her eyes. "It'd be far easier for you to check on something like that than me and Alex. Look... I could probably even talk Alex into going in with you, if you think-"

"That's not the point, Camila!" Mason shot his eyes at her and Dean swore he caught the same usual gleam in them.

"Then what is it?" she asked hotly. Mason turned away, shaking his head. "Oh, come ON, Mason! You have to get past this... jag you're on. Just accept who and what you are!"

"Well, Alex hates my guts. And I am not interested."

She scoffed, huffed and turned away, meeting Bobby's eyes. "He's good," she said, pointing back at Mason. "I mean, he can do things nobody else can-"

"STOP IT! JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!" Mason erupted. He shoved the photocopies off the desktop and wove his way around the other three. He took the steps two at a time, and disappeared.

Dean looked to Camila. "Congrats on getting him to Hulk-up, Sweetheart." He did not wait to watch her stare at the ceiling, wordless. Dean took the stairs and traced Mason's path through the kitchen and out the front door. Sunshine forced his eyes to squint.

The half-second he touched the porch, Marco's teeth shot into his face, but never touched him. Marco cowed quickly and gave Dean a set of pitiful guilty eyes. Dean waited for his heart to slow down. He shook his head at Marco. "Okay, Pooch. First off, I'm not the bad guy. We clear on that note? Secondly, let's find Mason. Can you-" he did not need to repeat. Marco wuffed once and trotted round the house. Dean followed and found Mason beside the tool shed, sitting on the steps, his face creased with a frown. His shoulders slumped upon seeing Dean.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

Dean's heart swelled. When was the last time he heard that? Not so much the words, but the tone. He sat a step below. "What's with the drama between you and Lady Storm in there?"

"Oh, she wants me to be a part of her team."

"That's bad?"

"No, not really. Camila is good. Alex is also good. But Camila wants me to do things I'd rather not do. Alex hounds me constantly about my past. He's on this mission to stick his nose in everyone's business." Mason stared into nothing, a mask of misery hung heavy on his face. "Dean... why are you here?"

Dean blinked as though waking. "What?"

"You know you do not have to hang around for your answers. I can easily email them to you. And I know you know that. Why are you here? Why have you stayed?"

Dean shrugged. "I like the drama." he joked. Mason gave him a distasteful, annoyed expression. Dean spotted the glint of hot copper in Mason's eyes again. It was beautiful and frightening at the same time.

Sunday night. Camila left an hour before Mike came home. She did not say her good-bye or apologize to Mason. Dean thought that was a bit cold, but typical among most hunters. Not that it mattered much. His problem was Mason. Dean still could not decide if he should leave Mason here with Abby, cozy and homey, or if he wanted to tell Mason who he really was. Bobby returned to the motel to pack the truck. Dean did not want to sleep. He did not want to leave. Abby fixed them a wonderful dinner and Mike finally came home after pulling a rugged eighteen-hour shift. He mumbled his greeting, welcomed Dean with an exhausted smile then staggered upstairs to their bedroom and crashed.

Dean crashed on the couch again and allowed Abby to fuss over his comfort. She kindly wished him a good sleep and retired.

Dean fell right to sleep. The cozy smells of a real home, complete with the scents of grass and sunshine off Marco, lulled the former hunter into a sense of complacency. Just before his mind fell blank with rest, Dean briefly wondered if Abby would allow him to come back for another visit.

The soothing tones of a clock chimed at four A.M. Dean dragged a long breath and shifted in the couch. Marco lifted her head, ears perked and alert. The rottie-mix sat up, ears tight and high.

"Yer related to a monster," Gordon said to Dean.

"Sam is not a monster."

"He drinks blood."

Dean rolled his eyes. "What sins have you never committed, Gordon? And don't tell me murder was one of them. I know better."

"Monster. That makes you the monster's brother. That makes you a monster, too!"

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam. "You belong here."

Sam's gentle voice came deathly-soft. "Don't let me go. Don't let me go."

Monster.

Sam opened his eyes, fully black but a light film covered them in a fiery copper tone. Dean did not know why, but he thought they were beautiful. No, he decided, Sam was no monster. Not freak or demon child. Just Sam Winchester.

My baby brother.

Gordon growled, low and menacing. He snorted and growled again. Dean woke, his face drenched with tears. He sat up and wiped his cheeks as Marco growled again, this time more pronounced.

"What's a matter?" Dean whispered. He withdrew the demon knife and crouched as Marco stared at the door, snarling. Dean flinched when the dog's eyes rolled solid silver-white. Her teeth dropped a good inch down.

The window by the couch shattered and a black figure leaped into the room. Marco cleared Dean by two feet, attacking the intruder with several sharp barks between growls. Another figure crashed through. Dean rolled back and swung tight. His assailant hissed and snapped back with equal speed. A third invader entered and threw something in Dean's direction. He ducked as a throwing iron sang through the air and sunk into the wall behind him. Dean met the third attacker's charge, blocking an attempt at his neck then swung again with the knife. The dark manifestation hissed while the second opponent drew a long sword. It gleamed cold in the lightless room. Dean kicked the third assailant away and met the second one, knife blade to sword. The creature struck Dean along the right cheek. Dean jumped back just as the sword came at him again. It sliced along Dean's shoulder, leaving a trail of blood. Dean snapped his wrist and sent the knife piercing blindly into shadow and soft tissue.

Marco barked and cried out in pain. Her attacker abandoned the dog, leapt over the couch, and aimed for Dean.