A/N: Just so everyone knows where this is in comparison to the current episodes, this is all days away from meeting addict Crowley. By the way, there is only ONE chapter left to go :)

Chapter 6: Meet the Connelly Brothers

There's too many of them, Sam realizes when he beheads his fifth vampire that night. Three more appear from around the abandoned warehouse and the taller man scours the corpse filled lot for his brother. Dean is holding off on his own better than Sam expects but he tries rushing to the man in fear of their situation turning to the worst.

After returning from the convenience store a few days ago, Sam made good on his promise to tell Dean everything. He told the older man about how Death had paid Sam a visit after the trials and how Sam had been ready to go—to end their suffering and other's for good. He told him how he tricked Sam so an angel could possess him and how it all went downhill from there. Sam knew Dean tried to understand what was wrong with it all because why was it wrong to bring family back? And when the taller man tried to explain that that was the reason why their life was always spiraling down, Sam realizes how selfish he sounded to say it all again.

At that time, Dean had asked Sam if their situation was reversed, wouldn't he do the same? Unlike the first time when Sam answered his brother, the younger man didn't know what to say then. He was so sure of himself before, but after Dean lost his memories?

Words were easier to say than to carry out.

Since casting Gadreel out of his body, Sam could count the times his heart reeled every time he thought Dean was doomed during a case. It's the same response he had when Dean was attacked by a werewolf at 10, when Dean nearly died from electrocution at 26, and when Dean disappeared into Purgatory in his thirties.

Even though Sam didn't know how to answer, he still wanted Dean there and to his great relief Dean didn't say anymore. They just…continued. There is still tension between them, but somehow the coffee in the mornings have been brewing just right (and Dean shares his daily recollections, often with frustration in some instances) while evenings have been spent watching the Game of Thrones with a pack of beer on Sam's bed with their shoulders pressed close. Memories of the taller man have yet to be mentioned though. They have also spent an extensive time researching productively and cohesively in a way that they haven't before.

Yet, Sam has no idea how he has overlooked a vital part of their current case.

This is their second hunt since their patch up and Sam has underestimated the vampire nest they have tracked down. It's a dangerous mistake and Sam should have known better than to immediately storm the vampires' hideout before scouting it out first. He should've prepared his brother for this.

Now, Sam could lose Dean at any moment if they don't pull out.

Just when he's five steps from his brother, a female vampire with dark hair in a pony tail lunges between them and stops him in his tracks. The other two vampires surround Dean as the older man finishes up on his latest victim.

Sam knows that they're outnumbered as he attempts to lop off the female vampire's head. She's quick though and easily dodges. Then she snarls at him with her second set of teeth and pounces on him, knocking him off balance. Fatigue has already crawled into the taller man's limbs because killing vampires is no easy feat, but he manages to force the vampire off and slice off her head just in time to see Dean do the same with their enemies.

"We need to get out of here, Sam!" the older man yells, stepping over a body. "There's too many of them!"

They both take off at a sprint away from the warehouse and towards the Impala that's parked stealthily under the shadow of a great oak. He catches Dean by the elbow just as the older man stumbles and pulls him up. Looking over his shoulder, Sam sees that there are about five vampires after them. If he had brought the proper weapons and ambushed them more efficiently, he wouldn't be in fear for Dean's and his life right now.

To his dread, there are three other vampires waiting at their car as well. Halting, Sam grips Dean's elbow hard and gives him a forlorn look as the blood suckers encircle them. This is it, he thinks breathing heavily. Seeing his brother's face, his life seems to flicker before Sam's eyes like an old film reel with each frame containing his brother in different years. Young freckled Dean with a proud missing tooth. Teenage Dean with stunning eyes and a smart aleck mouth. Adult Dean with a worn leather jacket and a cocky smile. Now-Dean without a memory of Sam but still sticking to him like the true brother he is.

"Sam?" Dean says alarmed, watching both their backs. "What're we going to do—we're surrounded—"

They've been together since the beginning, forged together by tragedy and mayhem, and Sam has a feeling that they would still be together in the end. No one else stuck around Sam that long but here is a friend and brother for life—a companion for life.

Sam's chest swells and is simultaneously bulldozed flat when he realizes how much he really cares about the man beside him.

He catches Dean's determined eyes and whispers, "I'm sorry." He feels like he's back in the abandoned church again with his brother. He feels all he had felt before about being the inadequate sibling—so inadequate that Dean found solace in different creatures. Like the angel Castiel, the vampire Benny, and even demon Crowley. When Dean looks at him with confusion, Sam apologizes again and swallows.

The older man stares at Sam in disbelief. "For what?"

"For dragging you into this. For not being the family you want—for not being the little brother you deserve," Sam answers rushed. He brings Dean closer to him still, keeping an eye on the jeering vampires as he tries to give his brother his last words. "I—"

Dean's eyes narrow as he grasps Sam tightly by the collar and shakes him once. He says with a menacing tone, "Save your sorry death speech for another day, Sam, because you and I are getting out of here alive."

As if fate decided that she just isn't finished with them, a black truck roars across the lot with its high beams blinding everyone in sight. Sam watches in shock as the mysterious vehicle swerves smoothly around into the entire circle of vampires. It knocks one bloodsucker down after another, dust trailing in its wake, until it stops in front of Sam and Dean.

"What the hell," Dean starts breathlessly, too stunned to move.

Angry calls resounded around them as the fog of dirt settles and two tall figures emerge from the truck at the same time. They are giants, even to Sam but being nearly blinded by headlights gives him no further details.

Friend or foe? Sam thinks, hand tightening on his machete; he hopes they're the first option.

Then the strangers come out of the darkness and into the light and Sam sees them for who they really are. They actually are tall, built like Sam and Dean, and intimidating. They wear loose dark coats (one leather, the other denim), and dark jeans, with each a machete and some chain hanging by their hips. Before any words can be exchanged, they cock their shotguns pointing in opposite directions and fire off round after round with frightening control and accuracy.

Sam hears screaming and watches as the vampires go down in pairs. Of course, they aren't dead though and by the way they still move sluggishly and slow, Sam knows that they have Dead Man's blood in their veins. He looks to Dean and a silent agreement of what action to take crosses their eyes and they nod before they sprint off towards the fallen creatures.

Heads are rolling within seconds and Sam no longer hears any shots piercing the air. He turns to look at what's happening and sees the two men dropping their guns in favour of pulling out their machetes. They take down the last three swifter than Sam could've taken down one. He is too busy marvelling at their synchronization to realize that the taller of the two has said something to him.

"I said cheers for doing half the job," the stranger repeats. He wipes his blade clean on one of the corpses before looking at Sam. He has green eyes, short dark-brown hair, a firm jaw, and a clean shaven face. He stands up and meets Sam's eyes. "I didn' think I'd see other hunters around here, but looks like ya two got here first."

"And unprepared at that," the other giant one says walking up to the taller man. "If we didn' come, ya lads be dead." Sam notes that this shorter stranger is built similar to Dean with broad shoulders, an angular face, and long legs. His facial features are similar to the taller stranger's though. They share the same green eyes, high cheekbones, age worn skin, broad brows, and the same thin lips. The only difference is that the shorter man has a crooked nose, a stubble, and cropped hair.

"Yeah, uh, thanks for that." Sam moves to Dean and makes sure he's alright before turning to the other pair. "I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean—"

The taller one startles Sam. "Hold on—Sam and Dean as in Sam & Dean Winchesters? The bastards who killed Lilith and jumpstarted the whole Apocalypse?"

Dean looks sharply at Sam and mouths the Apocalypse?! in silence.

"…Yeah, that's us," Sam answers carefully. His body stiffens as he does so because not many hunters were happy when they found out about that. As a precaution, he shifts himself just a little in front of Dean and eyes the two men warily. They certainly are intimidating with their heights and weapons, but Sam has never been one to back down when it comes to his brother. "Look, I appreciate your help—I really do, but we're not looking for trouble here—"

"Are ya kiddin' me?" the taller man says throwing his arms around Sam tightly. "I fuckin' love ya Winchesters!"

Stunned, Sam doesn't know what to do. No one has ever loved him for starting the Apocalypse before. In fact, he's pretty sure people hate him enough to kill him. "Uh…have we met?" he asks confused.

The shorter stranger (but still taller than Sam) sighs and pats the other man on the shoulders. "C'mere, Christopher Robin," he says. "Ya're a mad piece of cow on their patties."

"…Who are you guys?" Dean asks as the taller man releases Sam.

"Right, I'm Neil Connelly and this one here is me little brother, Chris," the shorter man answers shaking Dean's hand.

Chris, the tallest one, enthusiastically grabs Sam's and shakes it with a broad smile. "It's nice to finally meet ya Winchesters. Neil'd be dead now if it hadn' been for ya two."

Even after their hands part, Sam has no idea what is going on. "And how exactly did bringing the Apocalypse help him?"

"Em, it wasn't the Apocalypse perse," Neil mutters rubbing the back of his neck. "I was in me last year with a crossroads demon deal and Lilith was the contract holder. So, when you lads offed her, I was off the hook."

"Of course, livin' through the Apocalypse was no frolic in the woods, but it was definitely bearable with me brother still around," says Chris. "And I've got ya Winchesters to thank for that."

Sam honestly doesn't know how to respond. "Well...I guess we're even now. You did just save the both of us."

The Connelly brothers have other plans though and the next thing Sam knows, they're out camping in the woods with a fire between all of them. Since Neil had seen Dean's ride, the two have been getting along famously; Sam thanks the stranger for that because it puts him out of Dean's radar for the time being. He doesn't want to relay what happened during the Apocalypse again. It wasn't exactly the time of his life.

While the older brothers leaned against Neil's truck talking, drinking, and laughing, Sam sat two feet away from beside Chris with their own beers. He learns that they are from Massachusetts, usually working on the east coast, and have come inland because they were tracking the nest of vampires from earlier. Throughout their interaction, he notices how both Chris and Neil are nearly armed to the teeth. They wore iron and silver rings on their fingers, iron salted chains on their waists, knives in their jackets and boots, and when asked, Sam discovers that they also have two anti-possession tattoos somewhere on their bodies and an exorcism inscription on one of their forearms.

Sam is a little in awed by these brothers and thinks that maybe he should adopt some of their practices. After all, they were prepared for almost any supernatural creature.

With Chris, conversation comes easy to Sam. Fifteen minutes in, he realizes that it's because they are more alike than he would have ever thought. The Connelly were a family of hunters and after the death of their mother by a demon called Belial, Neil, Chris, and their father went on a hunt for it. After a few years, they found it, took revenge, and it cost them their father's life.

It's not just their background that makes Sam connect with Chris; it's the simple fact that they have an over-protective older brother that makes the younger man open up to him.

"So I'm assuming Neil's deal with the crossroads demon had something to do with you?" Sam asks, swishing his beer in its can.

Chris nods, elbows resting on his knees as he hunches closer to the fire. "I died with our father," he answers quietly and doesn't say anything more because it's obvious what happened after that. A person only has one soul and seeing Chris now just goes to show exactly who Neil traded his life for.

"Well…at least one good thing came from me killing Lilth," Sam murmurs. He doesn't want to talk about the subject anymore because every time he glances up when he hears Dean's laughter, he remembers the one year the man had left. They were good, they were bad, and they were desperate; it made Sam long for his brother even more. He doesn't even want to think about what he did after Dean was dragged down to Hell.

"So, what about yar brother there? He seems off—not quite the man rumours paint him to be," Chris asks.

"Car accident. Lost his memories last week," Sam answers glancing at the older man (at least he thinks Chris is older). "He's slowly recalling a few details and he remembers people when he sees them, but not me."

"…Ya want to keep it that way?"

It's an unusual question and Sam quirks his brow but he responds with a negative. "Sounds like I have an option. You know something?" he asks.

The dark-haired man looks at Sam and starts with a grin. "Well, there's a man by the name of Flying Arrow in Oregon…."

And the more Sam listens, the more he feels hopeful.

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"Soo, what'd you guuys talk. About….?" Dean asks almost in a slur. He slumps heavily in to Sam's body as the taller man pulls his arm over his shoulder.

Sighing, Sam hauls his brother up and walks him to their car. "You only had, like what? A few cans of beer?" Sam asks. "Why are you so drunk?"

Dean laughs lightly. "Neil…had some of the gooood stuff…can't miss that.."

Despite himself, Sam chuckles. He hasn't seen his brother as a happy drunk in far too long; it's definitely better than angry and miserable drunk Dean.

The fire has been put out leaving nothing but a trail of smoke heading skyward. Moonlight from a cloudless sky guides Sam's feet through the shrubbery and uneven ground. After reaching the Impala a few feet away, Sam can still smell burnt wood. Then he pulls open the back door and struggles to put Dean in.

"Hey, you dudn't..answer me, Sammy," the older man mumbles half-way through the door. "Whad'you guys talk about, huh?"

Chris and Sam talked about a lot of things. They talked about how Dean could get his memories back. They talked about how sometimes big brothers were dicks. They talked about how being on the road all the time sucked. They talked about loved ones left and lost, and they talked about how they could never really live a normal life.

It didn't surprise Sam when he learned that Chris was the same age as Dean, but what did surprise him was that Neil was four years older than Chris. Considering their past, how much more alike can they be to him and Dean? While they spoke, Sam noticed the way Chris would often shift his gaze towards the scruffiest looking man there. It wasn't just for the sake of looking at something. They were intense stares every time they talked about brothers or Neil, and by the time two hours slipped by and Neil stumbled towards them, Sam saw the stares for what they really were.

He watched as Chris stood up and met Neil half-way; watched as the man steadied his brother and scolded him for drinking too much, and watched as Neil just ignored Chris and kissed him fully on the mouth before resting himself lazily on his younger brother's shoulders spouting gibberish.

Sam didn't say anything, partially due to shock and partially due to the fact that for some reason he just understood, but it was the unfazed look that Chris gave him as he shouldered his brother and wrapped an arm around the older man's waist that kept Sam quiet. Chris gave the younger man a weary smile. "He was given five years for the deal. Best and worst years of me life," he murmured, "and I'm glad ya killed the bitch so we can keep living the best part. Now…don't ya have your own brother to take care of?"

Sam leans over Dean who's lying on his back and mumbling a bunch of mumbo jumbo. The taller man sighs as he half lifts and drags his brother further to the opposite door. "Even if I tell you, you're not going to remember tomorrow."

Dean grabs Sam's jacket and tugs feebly at it. "C'mon, Sammy…"

Since the incidence in the bunker garage, every time the older man would say that name, it made Sam's stomach tumble and his fingers tingle. Right now, it's all those things as his heart sings too. "…There's a shaman in Oregon. Chris says he can get your memories back," he murmurs, smoothing his hand over his brother's scalp. "Do..you really want it?"

With the coordination of a clumsy drunk, Dean lightly slaps both his hands on Sam's face, smooshing the taller man's cheeks together, and stares at him the best he could without dozing off. "..Want to rememember you," he mumbles and Sam has to stifle a smile when he hears the stumble in words. "Tired…of aaall…the holes where you should be," he continues and pulls the taller man on top of him with a heavy sigh. Sam doesn't really understand what his brother means, but he listens and feels touched. "Hate it," Dean says and repeats it with greater enthusiasm and a huff, "I hate it!"

Sam lets Dean get his way partly because he finds it amusing and partly because he doesn't mind the close contact. He rests his head over his brother's shoulder, hears and feels the man breathe, and finds comfort in it all. It's been a long time since Sam lay like this in the back of the Impala. He thinks maybe the last time was when he was thirteen and their father couldn't spare the money for a motel. It was cold then and Dean blanketed him like a furnace.

It isn't cold now, but Sam still presses closer to his brother, throwing an arm over the man's shoulder to cradle his head as Dean's hands rested high on Sam's broad back. "If everything works, you won't like what you'll remember," the taller man murmurs. He shifts his leg so one knee is between his brother's and sighs.

"I'll…decide that..for myself…Sammy," Dean says sleepily.

The taller man blinks sluggishly at his brother's profile and murmurs in a low quiet voice, "Say that again."

"…Say wha? …Sammy?" Dean asks chuckling deep so that the taller man could feel it reverberating in his chest.

Sam shifts closer until his forehead touches his brother's temple, then he breathes out, "Yeah."

Sam Winchester, one of America's greatest hunters, doesn't know how he devolved back into a child wanting all of his brother's attention because he's bathing in it now. It's so luke warm that it makes his head daze, his muscles relax, and his chest bloom. He wants to soak in it forever.

"Saaammy," Dean says almost sing-song and laughs quietly amused.

"…Again."

The older man repeats the name again and again, changing the tone just a little bit as if teasing. In a minute they become whispers in the dark, fading out as Sam is lulled to sleep by his brother's voice.

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Dawn filters out through tree limbs while white wisps rise into the air. Sam wipes his face over with his hands and exhales deeply. He sits alone by the fire he made that morning feeling refreshed despite only six hours of sleep. The camp is quiet save for wood crackling and birds chirping. When Sam exhales again, his breath is white; for a moment, he wants to return to where he slept last night where the cold was kept at bay and only everlasting warmth surrounded him.

But he can't, because Sam woke up that morning with his chin over Dean's head, his chest to Dean's back, his arms around Dean's middle, and his legs tucked up with Dean's. It's the position he wanted to sleep in at Jody's place except any brotherly affection he felt back then was absent this morning. He thinks it's mostly due to the fact that his hard-on was pressed into Dean's lower back, but Sam knew that when he woke up, he was feeling more than just aroused and a little afflicted.

He felt hopelessly right. Having a warm body, and not just anybody's but Dean's body, pressed to his after a night from a grueling hunt—Sam didn't think it possible to have such a privilege in his supernatural filled world. It was why he always sought out the normal and a woman here and there to sleep with. He didn't think he could hunt and have someone he loved too. There was always some dilemma where he had to choose: school or family? Normal or hunt? Love or Dean?

There Sam was though, in the back of the Impala, being comforted by his brother's body when he thought, why can't I have both? He always chose Dean in the end anyways.

"Ya're up early this morning."

Sam turns his head and sees Neil plop himself heavily onto the log beside him. The younger man didn't even hear the hunter approach him. "Yeah, just couldn't stay asleep anymore. How're you feeling?" Sam asks, rubbing his hands and warming it by the flames.

"Grand," the older man mutters and massages his forehead with a frown. "Did I…do anything weird last night?"

"Other than kiss your brother?" Sam shrugs nonchalantly. "No."

"…Em…about that, I was drunk—"

"You don't have to explain yourself, Neil. I understand." And Sam does. He knows that they aren't like any regular siblings they've met. Despite Renee growing up with Ewan, she only saw him as a brother while she fell in love with her actual long lost brother. Again: not normal. Chris and Neil? They grew up together, much like Sam and Dean, but in their not normal supernatural world, they got by together. "As long as you're happy, and that's a hard thing to come by in our line of work, I'm no judge," Sam says. With honest curiosity, he even asks, "Besides, what's with the name Christopher Robin? That's the curious part." Sam has heard it a couple times and he's pretty sure that Chris wasn't named after a fictional character when he was born.

After staring at Sam for a good few seconds, Neil half-laughs and rubs his palms over his knees. The only thing he has to say is that Chris liked to wear short shorts and ran in the woods a lot as a kid—looking for a golden bear and piglets; Neil has teased him ever since because of course that's what big brothers do. Sam knows all too well that big brothers are also fond of nicknames because usually no one else calls them that; faintly, he wonders how Dean came to call him "Sammy." Then Neil turns away and they sit in companionable silence.

By the time Dean and Chris are up, one with a hangover and one sleep deprived, the sun has already rose high above the horizon. They part shortly after a few brief conversations.

Just as Sam gets comfortable in the driver side, he glimpses Chris in the rear view mirror and does a double-take. The taller hunter is pressed along Neil's side, his arm casually around the man's lower back as they walk back to their truck talking. Sam, not that he wanted to be nosy, watches with a burst of envy as Chris smoothly touches his lips to his brother's neck and laughs into it. Neil swats the taller man away, says something that makes Chris laugh again, and as if nothing happened, they climb into their truck.

Sam wants what the two brothers have. He wants the kind of intimacy that comes like breathing in air—the kind that has always been denied to him ever since he learned the first girl he liked turned out to be the monster his family was hunting.

Sam had Jess, Sarah, Ruby, Amelia…but his relationships never lasted long. Why?

"Man, I need a few more hours," Dean gripes beside him. The older man fidgets in the passenger side, trying to get in a comfortable enough position to sleep off the rest of his hangover.

Sam's stomach does a funny twist. They couldn't all be signs, could they? Omens to tell him that the only person he needs, the only person who has been through thick and thin with him, is this hung-over big brother beside him?

Dean clears his throat, breaking Sam's trail of thoughts. "By the way, just because I was a little drunk last night doesn't mean I forgot what you said," the older man mutters. His head rests on the jacket that Sam has given him, eyebrows scrunched with his eyes closed in what Sam figures is because of a major headache. "We're going to see Fleeing Arrow whether you like it or not."

"Flying Arrow," Sam automatically corrects even as his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. He wants so badly to just lean over the gear stick between them and just—

"Whatever, just get us there."

Sam knows better than to argue and drives.

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Fifty miles out and Sam still feels the urge to lay a hand on his brother for no reason other than to feel the man's warm body, and confirm that this is what Sam left everyone behind for. It happens a hundred times or so, killed by Sam imagining a dozen drowning puppies.

In the late afternoon, Sam stops for lunch at a small diner. He turns to Dean, asks him what he wants, and receives no reply but a snore. So, the taller man leaves and comes back in fifteen minutes with two take out boxes in his hands.

Dean's head is in the same position it has been for the past few hours: lips tightly sealed, frown a constant on his features, eyes scrunched to hell, and neck craned to sleep on Sam's bundled up jacket. There's the same urge he feels and Sam finally decides to scratch the itch that has been following him since he started driving this morning.

Throwing caution and dead puppies to the wind, he leans into the passenger side window and kisses Dean lightly on the corner of his mouth. Then Sam is in the Impala again, his heart purring as loud as the car, before he guides them back onto the highway.