A/N: Back to that 'plot' thing I've heard so much about. Big thanks to all the lovely feedback. Dedicated to the most sexual of Anglo's I know. This chapter involves the end to a fucking big day for Dean, a little bit of family bonding (because I just freaking can't with the Winchesters, ok? They ruin me with their perfect little brother adorable munchkin fucking bond and adorable and just I have a lot of emotions ok.) Also features Dean getting down to business, to defeat, the huns. There's going to be a bit of a break on the porn side of things for now. Idk if you guys get impatient I might chuck in a masturbation or fantasy scene because I juST LOVE YOU ALL OK. Onwards into glory:
xXx
A joke of their childhood was that Sam could sleep through anything, and that Dean would wake up if a mosquito flew too close to his ear. Dean tested this theory frequently, waiting by his little brother's bed in the early hours of the morning, the first weak attempts of sunlight peeking around the curtains and illuminating Sammy's still sleeping form.
Foghorns had woken him. The triangle hadn't. Tambourines - still sleeping, crash symbol - awake. Rumble of dad's car, nothing, Dean shouting 'MAH!' close to his ear, consciousness.
Ambulance sirens always had mixed reactions, and Dean had a theory that Sam would only wake up for the really serious accidents, like Sam could somehow tell if an injury was worth him being conscious for.
If that ability existed, Dean imagined that the Ambulance that sped past his window around 10 p.m. would have had Sam bolt upright in his bed, urgently turning to Dean.
Instead it had Dean frowning from where he was sitting on the couch, feet propped up next to his beer and laptop pressed against his knees. He checked the time, checked his phone, wondered where the hell Sam had got to for the millionth time that night.
"Paranoid." He told himself, Sam was probably just working late. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread after another call directed straight to voice mail, though.
Despite his own objections about literally every social rule about the first date (or one night stand or… whatever the hell had happened), Dean dialled Cas' number next.
He picked up on the third ring, an irritated 'hello' filling the sound of sirens that were way closer on his end of the phone.
"Cas?" He asked unsurely.
"Dean?" Cas sounded somehow amazed. "I was… actually just going to call you."
"Sam?" Dean asked, because he knew that tone of voice. There was something cold in his stomach, something he thought he would never have to feel again after leaving the goddamn Army.
"He's fine," Cas said quickly, melting away that feeling and making Dean so damn grateful he could have given the guy a thousand blow jobs against a thousand different doors.
"His office isn't though, and his secretary is… well, I'm not sure how much information I can disclose. Sam has been bought in for questioning."
"Wait… Sam's secretary is dead and you think Sam did it?" Dean was on his feet then, his laptop sliding to the seat next to him as he paced wildly to the window. "The guy doesn't even eat meat."
"No, no, Sam isn't a suspect. It's the situation, Dean, it's all rather complicated. Why don't you come down to the station, Sam should be free to go soon and he'll need a lift home."
"Doesn't he have a car?" Dean asked, already walking to where he had placed his car keys and shoving them in his pocket, heading towards the door.
"It was… look. I'll explain everything when you're down here."
"Ok, thanks Cas." Dean said, feeling a little bewildered. God, it had only been four hours ago that they had been standing against the very door Dean was opening.
"No problems, Dean." He replied, and there was the familiar beep and click of a call ending, and Dean was stumbling towards his car a few steps at a time, murmuring 'son of a bitch' to himself and anyone else who wanted to listen.
The drive down to the station went quickly, and soon he was caught up in the traffic of the main road, looking with wide eyes at Sam's building.
Well, what was left of it.
"Jesus," Dean whispered to himself, staring at the fire crews and police cars, colored lights dancing over the debris and faces of those crowded there.
The building was totalled: Dean knew the effects of a bomb when he saw one. It appeared to have gone off in the car park somewhere, the blast taking out the front of Sam's office and a few windows of the buildings next to it.
"Dean!" A familiar voice called, and Dean turned to see the old man, Rufus, standing near a barrier. Dean jogged over, slightly dazed.
"Is your fool brother ok?" Rufus asked
"Sammy's fine," Dean nodded, holding up his phone. "Cas said."
"Officer Castiel?"
"Bingo." Dean replied.
"… Lets you call him 'Cas'?"
Dean shot him an annoyed look, rolling his eyes. "C'mon dude there are bigger things to be concentrating on right now."
"Well let us know if you find out anything." Rufus told him, shaking his head.
"Will do." Dean grinned, jogging back towards the smoking building and finally spotting a beige trench coat.
There was a lot to be said about Dean's devotion to his brother in this moment, especially considering that Police Officer Castiel had his authoritative voice on and his hair was still scrunched in a pattern that, if Dean had checked, would probably match his hands – that he didn't simply jump on the officer right then and demand that they finish what they started.
As it was, Dean's internal voice was saying something along the lines of
Sammy, make sure Sam is ok, look after Sam, is Sam alright, Sammy, Sammy, Sam-
"Sam?" Dean finally managed to say when he got close enough to be in hearing range of Castiel. Cas turned to look at him, some of the worry lines melting off his face, and gestured to the back of an ambulance a little while away.
Sam was sitting there, his suit askew and a sad look on his face, meekly speaking to a police officer with a shock blanket wrapped securely around his large shoulders.
"Thanks, Cas." Dean managed to mutter before he turned and jogged to Sam, holding back from a full embarrassing family embrace, but managing to do the awkward man hug which involved a lot of hand shaking and back hitting.
"Hey, Dean." Sam said, which meant I'm fine and I'm glad you're here and I'm sorry that I made you worried.
"Hey there, Sammy." He replied, which meant Jesus Christ don't ever think of scaring me like that again, I'm just glad you're ok and I'll always be here for you even when you're eighty-freaking-years old and I have to drive one of those old-people-mopeds to get to you. But I'm never going to say this out loud, and if I did I would deny it.
Dean Winchester is a goddamn man.
With an unnaturally clean ass, but that's…
Dean frowned, his train of thought derailing and his brother frowning at him as it happened.
"Never mind." Dean said, grinning. "I'm glad you're ok, Sam."
"I just feel horrible about Emma," he replied, his lips pressing together tightly.
"Secretary?" Dean asked
"She was just going home when the blast went off. She was in her car and it just…" Sam shook his head, averting his eyes.
"Huh." Dean frowned. "Was she parked near you?"
"Right next to." Sam nodded, "I was just telling Officer Gabriel."
It was then Dean noticed that the man next to his brother was indeed the soda-drinking, gay-advice-giving, weird-compliment-purveyor that he had met earlier today.
"Good to see you again, Officer Gabriel."
"Please, Dean. Call me Gabe. How did things go with Officer Castiel?" He wiggled his eyebrows obscenely and Dean did his best – manly, manly, man. – to fight down the blush.
"You had to talk to an Officer, Dean?" Sam asked
"Oh, it was about something yesterday, nothing serious." Dean brushed off
"Dean here captured the friendly neighborhood psychopath that has been slipping us for weeks." Gabe grinned, beaming at Dean like he was the goddamn policeman's kid.
"Dude!" Sam said accusingly.
"Hey, I was going to tell you!" Dean said. "As soon as you got home from the freaking office!"
The mention of the building made the three men remember the situation they were in, and the mood grew sombre once again.
"Hey Sam, I can get the rest of your statement tomorrow. You should go home with Dean." Gabe suggested, offering a brief smile that seemed to be heavy with something Dean couldn't quite read, but then he had left and Sam was shrugging off the shock blanket to follow Dean to his car.
"Let's get home, I'm starving." Sam complained, getting into the impala with a bit of difficulty and then settling into the leather as if he had lived in the passenger's seat for years.
"Sure thing," Dean agreed, his eyes scanning the crowd and finally finding Cas, he was in the middle of talking to three other officers and Dean guessed that maybe he'd talk to him later.
Once he had reinstated his manliness and gotten his kid brother something to eat.
xXx
Dropping Sam off at work the next morning had Dean remembering their childhood with an almost painful accuracy, and he felt as though he should be checking that Sam had his packed lunch and reassuring his dad that he'd make sure no one gave Sammy a hard time.
"Dude, if you make a stupid joke right now I will literally break your nose." Sam warned when they pulled up at the police station – where Sam was setting up a temporary office in the back of.
"Just have a good day at work, Sammy." Dean replied, unable to keep the grin off his face.
Sam huffed out an annoyed breath mostly through his nose before clambering out of the car and walking with measured pace to the office. Dean waited until he was out of sight before edging forward in the Impala, surveying the damage of Sam's old office.
Most of it had been cleared, but Dean's brain sucked in as much information as he could whilst building on the millions of theories that had kept him awake all night.
He scrubbed his hand over his face as he looked at the spot his brother had parked his car, the office where Jim Lyons used to work…
Something in his gut told him that these attacks weren't random, and it had probably come to the police officer's attention that the attack seemed to be targeting… well…
"Sammy." Dean breathed out lowly, shaking his head. "Will I ever be able to stop looking out for you, man?" He muttered.
But why would anyone want to hurt Sam?
Dean had already, for reasons not entirely known to him, decided against involving Sam in the little private investigation he was doing. He had spent the night going over theories, trying to work out what on earth Sam might have done to warrant an aggravated attack.
He felt a painful twinge in his gut, remembering what Sam had said after their mother had died in a house fire.
"But what did mom do to make the man so angry?" his little brother had been looking up at him with those huge puppy eyes, and Dean, all of eleven years old, had only been able to shrug and hug Sammy tighter.
That house fire was the thing that had stayed in Dean's memories for so long, the unprovoked attack, the fire that somehow started in Sam's nursery and might have killed him if John hadn't come running at Mary's scream…
Dean slammed on the brakes to the car, his head whirring, because suddenly he was remembering another fire that had cost the life of a mother and almost cost the life of a son.
"Son of a bitch." He whispered to himself, turning his baby around immediately and heading home at something that was just a little over the speed limit.
He ran in the door and fired up his laptop, kicking his boots off and shrugging out of his jacket as the machine slowly whirred to life. He managed to open the internet and then he was back on pages he had poured over a thousand times, finally seeing what was so glaringly obvious.
The fire that had killed Sebastian Lyon's mother happened in the same year as their mother's murder.
Reading the account again, he cast his memory back to that night and to any subsequent conversations.
The Lyon family were at home together when a fire started in six-month-old Sebastian's nursery.
Dean could remember, vaguely, their family being at home by themselves. Mary going to check on the baby.
Rosetta Lyon, unfortunately, was killed in the blaze along with her child. Jim Lyon, the sole survivor, claims to have seen a man running from the scene. Though unable to get a good look, Jim states the man was around 6ft, Caucasian, with blonde hair.
That's where Dean's breath caught, because he would never forget the information that John had told him when he was fifteen.
That after hearing Mary scream, John had ran upstairs, found his wife already dead, found a man leaning over the cradle.
John's army training had kicked in and he had managed to protect Sam, long enough to make the man run, but not long enough to put out the fire or to save his wife.
Dean walked to the kitchen, head spinning, pouring himself a whiskey despite the fact it was only 10 a.m.
So what had happened?
Dean had often wondered what that man was doing, standing over Sam's cradle.
Had he been trying to do what he did to Sebastian?
What did he do to Sebastian?
Dean was staring at his phone, knowing exactly where he could get answers but not sure how much his probing would be appreciated. He needed to find out what had happened to Sebastian in those years that he was missing.
Did the man steal Sebastian from his crib? Start the fire?
And why was Sebastian back to kill Jim and… Sam?
Dean downed the whiskey in one gulp and resolutely picked up his phone, dialling Cas' number and leaning against the kitchen bench. He needed answers if he was going to continue his research and find out how to protect his little brother.
"Hello, this is Officer Castiel Novak speaking?" his voice was low and rough, it threw Dean off for a moment and he was acutely reminded of just how goddamn sexy the officer he was on the phone to was. He was momentarily stumped, ready to ask 'what are you wearing?' instead of continuing with this rather serious conversation he had planned.
"Cas? It's Dean. I think I know something about the case." He didn't think it was necessary to mention which case.
"Dean? You… how do you kn- you know what, never mind. Ok, what is it?" Castiel asked.
"Can I come in and see you? It's kind of a lengthy story." Dean muttered, already pulling his boots back on.
"No, Dean, you can't just come down here and-" Castiel was cut off by another voice on his end of the line, and Dean could practically feel the tension thrumming down the tiny speaker in his phone. A twinge of guilt hit him somewhere in the abdomen, wondering about how Cas was getting on in the wake of everything that was happening.
"Dean?" His voice came back through the phone, clear and authoritative.
"Yes?"
"I'll come over after work and we can discuss your new lead." Cas said in a voice that booked no arguments.
"And while you're here we could maybe go over some of the finer points on our previous conversation?" Dean couldn't resist slipping in the line, and he heard Castiel clear his throat on the other end.
"Yes, well. I do believe I promised you we would continue that conversation when we had more time." Cas acknowledged, his voice somehow a semi tone deeper.
"I'll be waiting, Officer." Dean said, smirking.
"Good bye." Cas replied, his phone beeping to let him know that the conversation was over.
Dean was torn between giving his enema kit a follow up usage and jumping on the laptop to do more research. In the end, it was research that won out, and Dean collapsed on the couch with a muttered curse and a vow that one day, Sam would get him back for all the blue-balling that had occurred because of him.
A/N: Lovelies, my sincerest apologies for the break in updates. I hope you liked the chapter, big thanks to all the reviews. You are all my favourites. Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.
