The bar was almost empty, the dim lights turned up. It was that restless time in the evening after everyone that had stayed here had left, but before anyone new arrived. A few calm poker games carried on in one corner, thin tendrils of smoke from their cigerettes making Sam cough. Dean grinned.

"Can we get a few burgers, William?" He asked the teenager that was tending bar.

"Wrap them up, we're getting out of here." Sam cut in, and the boy nodded. Dean shot him a questioning look and he shrugged.

"You said you could take me the rest of the way today. We're only about a half hour away." Dean studied his face for a moment, then nodded.

"Alright, I can do that."

Dean wouldn't let Sam actually eat in the car, so he sat on the hood.

"Why don't you just eat inside?" He teased, sitting next to Sam as he inhaled the meat. Sam shrugged, finished off the last piece with a hungry gulp.

"If I'm going to be stuck in your musty car for the next half hour, I want some fresh air." He grinned, and Dean made a face.

"Just get in the damn car, smart ass." He said, but his eyes were smiling. Sam dutifully climbed in, and Dean held out one hand, filled with a dull green roll of bills.

"What's this?" He asked, taking it from him.

"That's what you won playing last night. Or whenever." He shrugged. "You didn't think I'd steal it from you, didya?" He asked as he started the car. Sam was silent for a moment, then turned to him.

"I was hustling so I could pay you for helping me." He said, eyes down, and Dean laughed.

"I know, dude. I'm not an idiot. But there's no need. I have to go near the coast anyway. I have a case."Sam glanced at him.

"Near the coast?" He asked, voice shaky.

"Well, yeah. The salt doesn't run off everything, or even as much as we'd like. I wouldn't worry though." He said. They were cruising now, and Sam nodded.

"I'm not worried." And he wasn't, at least not about the creatures.

They both sat on the hood, looking over the ocean. Sam pushed back, leaned against the cool glass of the windshield and stretched out his legs. He closed his eyes, but he could feel Dean's eyes on him, worried.

Just let it go, man. I'll be fine. Dean was talking to him. "So what are you going to do now?" he asked, and Sam could feel his gaze slide back to the ocean. Why do you even care? Sam wanted to ask, but instead he shrugged.

"I don't really have a plan." He admitted, opening his eyes. Dean's back was to him. He was clenching his fists.

"Oh, well. You know. I am staying on the coast for a while." He glanced back at Sam expectantly. "I could take you to the next outpost." He said. He was chewing on the inside of his lip, casting Sam little, axious glances without meeting his gaze.

Oh, shit. Sam thinks, but he hears himself saying, "Yeah, okay. Thanks. As long as we can rest in actual beds tonight." Dean is grinning at the ocean, nodding his head.

"Yeah, okay, Sammy, whatever you want." Oh shit.

What are they, setting up franchises? Sam thinks as he stares at the old motel. Its tiny, but the wall surrounding it juts out a dozen feet, and inside it people are drinking, partying, like they are oblivious to the world around them. Maybe they are. Leave it to Dean to know about this place.

He glances down at the map, and sure enough, there is a tiny little dot right where they are. Sam remembers Dean raising his eyebrows, smirking.

"Oh, I always know a place." Inside, he grins, but its a grotesque grin. Sam wants to hit him. If you wanted to get away from him so bad, you wouldn't have taken him up on this dumb ass offer. He reminds himself. He knows thats true, but he finds it hard to accept when Dean is giving him snark through the check out window as he flirts with the girl behind the counter. He settled low in his seat as Dean comes around to the car.

"Carry in the bags, will ya? I got us in for free." His tongue darted from behind his teeth, and Sam feels something in his center tighten in disgust.

"Yeah, whatever." He says before he hauls the bags in.

An hour later, Sam's leaning against the worn brick of the salt barrier. Its taller than most, and sturdy. That comforts him in some small part of his mind. A pretty brunette is leaning next to him, flashing a smile. She's talking about her familly, and how they moved down to South America where the demons are alot scarcer because of the wet heat.

"I wonder how long it takes a vessel to die out." She's saying. "I mean, I know they last a while, you know? But, like, they can't last forever, right?" Sam can't focus on her train of thought, doesn't want to.

"Hey, I'm going to go get a beer." He says to Candice?...Kira? Courtney?...and she giggles.

"Oh, thanks." He rolled his eyes, went to the table thats half leaning against one side of the building. The cheap plastic cup flew from his hand as someone knocked him, soaking down one leg of denim.

"Hey, watch where you are going!" Oh, great, it's the cliche drunk biker. And this night was going so well. He thought, muttering an apology.

"Hey, aren't you Daniel Audum's boy?" He asks. Sam feels his stomach tighten. "What the hell are you doing out here. You know, your old man almost got me killed. You ain't welcome here." Sam threw out his fist, connected with the guys jaw. He fell, hard.

"Don't talk about my father!" He screamed, throwing a kick to the guys ribs, backing him up against the wall. Faces turned to him as he braced himself against the brick, the man's body turning to puddy as he landed blow after blow. Strong arms wrapped around him, pulled him away. Suddenly Dean was in front of him, had him pinned to the other side of the narrow alley.

"Get in there! Now!" He ordered, gestured to the small office that branched from the side. Sam took a deep breath, nodded. "What the hell are you guys staring at?" Dean said after him, followed him in. "What the hell were you thinking, Sam!? Do you have any idea who that guy is? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I don't need your help, Dean! I never fucking asked for it." He said, throat raw. Fuck, his hand hurt.

"You better start asking! This is the third time I saved your ass since I met you. You are a walking fucking disaster, you know that?!"

"Yeah, well you told you to save me? I sure as hell didn't! Face it, Dean, you just want to keep me around, but I am not sticking around! Do you honestly think I want to stay here with you!?" His back hit the wall, and Dean's eyes were wide and glassy in front of him, his hands digging into the thin material of his shirt.

"Shut your mouth." He said, low in his throat.

"Or what, Dean? You gonna hit me? Gonna shut me up? Huh?" Dean was so close he could taste his breath, feel it skid across his face. He wrenched forward, slammed that mouth into his, tasting whiskey and salt and Dean. Dean was moaning against him, hands pushing him back into the plaster, jaw working his mouth open forcefully. Then the feel was gone.

"I...am going to get a drink." He said, so quiet Sam almost didn't hear it. His lips tingled, and he touched them, wincing. Dean had bit him, drawing a thin line of blood.

Oh, shit.

Dean swallowed his beer, no longer enjoying his party. Fuck. I kissed Sam. The thought swam sickeningly through him. I'm not even gay. Is he gay? Oh, fuck. The voice reared back, giggled. Well, you do have good taste Dean Winchester. Very good taste. He's a pretty thing, isn't he?

Shut up, I'm not listening to you. He stared down into thin liquid.

Yes, you are. You can't ignore me. You think he liked it, Dean? Think he's thinking about it right now? Or maybe you disgust him. Were you planning on asking him to hunt with you? Well, that's out of the question now, ain't it? Or maybe not. Maybe this is what you've wanted since the beginning. You thinking about running your hands over that muscled body, Dean? Come on, Dean, you can tell me...what do you want to do to that boy? Dean clenched the cup, thin plastic cracking and dribbling cheap beer down his wrist into the dark dirt. He threw the beer asde, tried to shake off his hand.

Shut the fuck up. For once just shut up. For once stay out of this. Please get out of my head...

And he got himself another beer.

Sam rested his hand against the shower wall.

"Look, Sammy, I got us the best room in the house." Dean had gestured to the lopsided mattresses and the broken window on one side. All in all, it was a pretty good room, really. Way better then he had stayed in with his father.

Dean's face, a look of sheer joy as he opened the bathroom door. "Theres a shower! And it works! Ha!" Sam had still been moping, tired from listening to Dean's remarks about various women and how Sam could have better luck with them "if you'd...," but seeing Dean so pleased with something as simple as running water had made Sam's stare turn to a lopsided grin.

"I can't think about this anymore tonight." He said to the cheap plastic. Running a hand through his damp hair.

Finally, he shut off the shower and lugged himself out of the tiny bathroom, finally forcing himself into clothes.

What if he doesn't come back? What if he just leaves me here? This isn't the middle of the desert. It's not an outpost either, but its almost decent. He might just drive off, there's nothing stopping him. He let his own mind go silent and tried to listen to something deeper, the warnings of demons close, but heard nothing. That silence lulled him to sleep.

Nononononononono. Sam had to stop something, had to destroy something, had to save something. The dark was swallowing him and he couldn't get away. A little white light inside him burned so hot it scorched his soul, seared his eyelids to his pupils painfully.

Getawayfromhim! He was frantic, searching. Protecting. That was new. He didn't like it. he didn't like being responsible for something other than himself.

"This must be what Dean feels." he suddenly thinks, and then the dark is eating at that light, and he's fading. Again. And no one is saving him.

And he is saving no one.

"Sam?!" Dean was shaking him awake, and he bolted up. Dean was immediately tuning away, towards his bag on the dresser.

"Hey." He said, unsure of what to do. He waited for a response, but Dean was staring into his duffel, giving careful attention to yesterday's clothes as he folded them.

"Get your shit, the next outpost is three hours away. Its a real big place, a town. Civilization." Dean grunted, and Sam could practically taste how bitter he was.

"Dean..." He started, rising from the bed. They had to talk about this, he couldn't leave Dean like this.

"Sam. No." He said. Sam. Not Sammy, Sam.

"Okay, I'll get my stuff." He said, and they were silent. Finally, Dean turned and stared at Sam. "What?"

"Sam, you don't have to come with me. If you want to stay here, that's fine, there is probably someone willing to take you th rest of the way. If you don't want to...you can stay here if you want." He ended shortly, but Sam was already shaking his head.

"No, people don't like me here." Dean wasn't looking at him, he was staring at the tops of his boots. "Besides, I trust you, not them." He admitted quietly, then turned back to his bag before Dean could respond, say something to make him regret it.

Author's Afternote

Last chapter that is just a buildup to the real story. Sorry, but I had to give a little backplot. I could've just begun at the next chapter, but it wouldn't have made much sense, without knowing about how they met.

After this, there will be less drama and more action...well, there will be more action.

Review, and whatnot.