Dean sat in the same bar as the night before, drinking beer as he attempted to make sense of the day's events. It was early, only about four o'clock and the bar was just beginning to fill up.

He searched through his memories of their childhood, but he was fairly certain that he had not looked at Sam like that when they were growing up. And he was slightly concerned that a teenaged Sammy had been looking at him like that and he hadn't friggin' noticed.

Still if he were honest with himself, Dean admitted that he had certainly noticed the differences that took place while Sam was at college. Every time that he had stopped by Stanford, it seemed that Sam had grown up more, filled out, acquired a grace like he were more comfortable in his own skin, his face becoming more masculine and adult.

Yeah, Dean had to admit that his own attraction began when he picked Sam up from Stanford. It had just taken Sam kissing him to make Dean realize his feelings for what they really were.

God, that kiss had been hot. Dean shifted restlessly on his seat thinking about it. Sam had taken the initiative, Dean just trying to keep up as he got over his initial shock. For once, Dean hadn't been in the lead, hadn't been leading quickly toward a bed. He had just felt, felt Sam's big hands firm but gentle on his face, controlling but not dominating, felt Sam's lips and tongue moving over his, the light stubble on Sam's jaw catching on his own.

Of course Dean wanted to do it again. He wanted more. Sam was the one person Dean could see letting have that power over him. The one person Dean could let that close. Sam already held his heart. His life had always been about Sam, about protecting Sam and caring for Sam and being there for Sam.

But he couldn't. Sam still wanted normal, still had a chance at normal. Asking Sam to help find Dad had been the most selfish thing that Dean had ever done and he still didn't know whether he should regret it or not. But he wouldn't do anything more to take away his little brother's dreams.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam stood in the motel room devastated. Everything had just gotten out of his control. He had hidden this desire for years, especially since he had left Stanford. But there was no way he could have controlled his dick with Dean down on his knees in front of him.

So he had put it all out there and Dean had shot him down. He didn't know how he was going to move past this. He had never been more humiliated in his whole life. Dean had said forget it but that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

And Dean had kissed him back! What was that about? The kiss had been amazing, perfect, Dean had totally been into it. Sam had no idea what had gone wrong.

He thought back over Dean's words. Dean had said, 'it's not normal'. Well, no, incest wasn't normal, but they weren't exactly normal to begin with. He loved Dean, he wanted Dean, and, most of the time, he liked Dean.

But Dean hadn't said that he didn't want Sam. Dean had said that he was doing it for Sam. That Sam could understand. Dean was always thinking of Sam first, always thought that he knew what was best for Sam.

But this was ridiculous. If Dean didn't want him, Dean should just say so. But if Dean was just doing what he thought was best for Sam…Suddenly determined, Sam decided that he wasn't going to forget it or not talk about it. He was going to wait for Dean and then bother his brother until he got a straight answer.

As Sam settled down to wait though, he realized he hadn't had dinner and Dean had the car. Damn him, Sam thought as he searched the yellow pages for pizza delivery.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

It was getting pretty late and Dean was still at the bar. He wasn't drinking heavily and, in fact, was pretty bored. He had played a few games of darts, not hustling because he didn't think he could be attentive enough.

He thought of finding someone to go home with in passing. As much as he wanted to lose himself in soft curves, he irrationally didn't want to erase Sam's kiss from his lips.

Sighing into his beer, he looked up to see a familiar face, the guy who had hit on him the previous night, whose name Dean didn't even know.

The guy smiled as he sat down at Dean's table, eyes knowing. "So you couldn't stay away."

Dean didn't have the patience to be nice to this guy tonight. The kiss with Sam had only re-iterated that he couldn't have that kind of connection with any other guy.

He smiled weakly. "Not many other bars in this town, you know."

"No other reason?"

Wow this guy was forward. But he was only hoping for a hookup, no time to be smooth, Dean supposed.

"Listen, you're very attractive. I'm just not interested at the moment. Bad timing, you know?"

The guy laughed a little self-consciously, getting the message. "Figures. No way I'm lucky enough to take home a guy as hot as you."

Dean choked on his beer, his face heating up in embarrassment. He shook his head thinking that if this guy only knew. If this guy only knew what a fuck-up he was, how dysfunctional and worthless, unable to save the only people who mattered to him. Much less that if the guy knew what Dean did, he would run screaming in the other direction.

Finishing the beer, Dean stood, ready to leave. He didn't particularly want to go back to the motel room and crawl into the bed with Sam, but he couldn't stay here with this guy any more.

Climbing into the Impala, he was headed down the same road that the victims had been found on, the same road that he and Sam had been at earlier. He was surprised to see a car stopped on the side of the road with its hazard lights on.

He pulled over, not only because he usually pulled over to help a stranded motorist but because he was worried that he was looking at the Lizard Man's next victim.

Getting out of his own car cautiously, keeping attentive to the sights and sounds of the nearby swamp, Dean approached the other car.

"Car trouble?" Dean called out as he saw a figure leaning against the car's hood.

"Yeah, afraid so."

It was a man who answered, a man shorter than Dean by a few inches but thickly built.

"Well, I know a few things about cars if you want me to have a look, or I have a cell phone if you need to call someone."

The man pushed himself off, opening the hood. "If you could just take a look, I'd be much obliged. It's probably just something small…I just had a car inspection."

Dean nodded, taking the flashlight that the man held out to him before bending over the engine. It only took a moment's glance for Dean to realize that there wasn't a thing wrong with that car…

Dean turned just in time, hearing movement behind him. Sharp pain exploded as something scraped over his side while he twisted away.

The man had overbalanced, following through on that swing and not prepared for Dean to deflect. It was embarrassingly easy really. Dean brought his fist down hard on the back of the man's head as he swiveled away from the car.

With the man passed out on the ground, Dean took a moment to catch his breath as the adrenaline left him. He shone his flashlight on the weapon that the man had dropped. It was some sort of hand held garden tool, with three prongs.

Dean couldn't believe it. The Lizard Man was just a serial killer and Dean had just friggin' stumbled onto it. He was awesome! Case closed.

Moving quickly back to the Impala's well stocked trunk, Dean grabbed some rope and quite literally hog-tied the man before dumping him in the backseat of the car whose hazard lights were still blinking.

Dean admitted to himself, that he was tempted to just dispatch the man like any other evil monster who killed innocent people. But that wasn't his job. He made a quick phone call to the police, 'there's a car off the road, a man with a three-pronged tool that might have blood on it, might have something to do with the recent murders'…and the informant's name…? Click.

Dean was practically chuckling at the strange turn of events as he got back into the car. He couldn't wait to tell Sam.