A/N: another shorter chapter I'm afraid, but with another big reveal so I don't feel so bad; besides I spent last night writing the first big wincesty scene (coming your way soon) so I figure it all evens out.

Thank you to those people who took the time to review the last chapter, it's always apprecited and (incert plea for R&R here) is always welcome.

Anyway on with the chapter (If anyone's even read this anyway lol.)

Disclamer: I own nothing.

Chapter Six

..

Prey for…

Those who wait in darkness?

For the children at the gate

Who will not go away and cannot prey:

Prey for those who choose and oppose…

Prey for those that offend..and

Are terrified and cannot surrender.

Ash-Wensday (V) T.

--

Little Rock, Arkansas.

The first high-school in America to be de-segregated was here. Fifty four years ago now.

It was Sam who'd taught him that, the first time they had come.

Told him of Orval Faubus and the National Guard and the Little Rock Nine.

He was supposed to be learning it in class for black history month but James never seemed to retain any of that kind of knowledge unless it was Sam who taught him it.

Sam had told him of so many things- of history and hunting, Latin and Ancient Mythology. Weapon Care and Car Repair and the life and death of Dean Winchester.

Dean Winchester, who so wasn't what James had expected. Who was cocky and caring and utterly devoted: to the hunt and his car and his brother.

Dean who was just like every story Sam had ever told about him, all the ones James couldn't, or wouldn't believe. Not when he'd spent 16 years hating Dean-or at least wanting to.

Now, it would be so easy to hate Dean- Dean who was there when all James wanted was Sam and his soft, patient voice and seemingly infinite knowledge of the world.

Sam, who's loss made James an orphan twice over. Who's memory made James feel guilty, shameful for hating Dean the way he had always wanted to.

When he was a child it had only been James and his mother, his beautiful, wondrous mother with her tender smile and laugh lines and gentle hands.

Yes, it had only been his mother, but she had filled the world up so he'd never needed anyone else.

Then his mother had died, skin waxy and stretched from sickness. His mother had died but Sam had been there, Sam with his own wild greif… who seemed the only other person in the universe who understood the loss.

James knew, that others found it strange, that though only twelve yeas between them, Sam took the role of a father not brother.

Yet, his mother (Waxy skin, laugh lines) had only been seventeen at the time of James's birth so it had not been such a leap for him.

And Sam had been so old, in his head when he'd found James in Mississippi. So tired.

The last winchester, unrelenting in the quest for his brother.

Yet, James had given up all faith in Dean Winchester long before their meeting, before his knowledge even of Sam's existence.

So the sight of it in Sam, the man he idolised, his Dad (even if only called such in his head), had disturbed him. He'd tried to ignore it, that unyielding loyalty Sam so clung to; tried to make it false in his mind. The only fault he ever found in him.

But now, Dean back less than a week, James was forced into truth. To acknowledge that Sam, who he loved, was the product of Dean, who he hated. That the things that had seemed so utterly Sam, he had learnt to do from Dean. And it made James so angry,so confused.

And he didn't even know how all this had happened to begin with; because James had been given a wish, and although it was from the Trickster and James' request had never been vocalised, it had been clear.

He had cried out, internally, for Sam, for all the things Sam represented and made James feel. How could that have possibly been confused?

' How could he have ended up with Dean Winchester, the opposite of Sam; a negative, absent presence in his life. Who had made his mother so tired and Sam so sad and for so long had been the sole focus of all the anger James had ever known.

Yes , How could they ever be confused?

James had wanted Dean once, a very long time ago, and some part of that need had lingered with him. He remembered, on some some long drive last year, rather timidly asking, what Dean would have thought of him.

Sam had looked at him and through him and at some distant and unretchable thing.

"Your a lot like him." Sam had said, longing, "In so many little ways. It would have driven him nuts-he wouldn't have understood…he would have found you so frustrating and he would have bugged me over it and you two would have fought, all the time. My turn to be in the middle I suppose."

He'd laughed, eyes bright, glassy but then he'd looked, entirely at James, at nothing beyond him. Reassuring and wistful and accepting.

"He would have loved you, so much. He would have loved you as much as I do."

James hadn't believed, that Dean could have loved him, yet not been there. That Sam who was amazing, could be so devoted to him. He could not believed it possible.

Now he knew it was not, knew that Dean could never love him, not even if he knew the truth, not even having witnessed the passion with which the man took family.

It would be impossible to forget, in the end, all the lost years, all the years of hate and absence. And though he could see, perhaps, his fury had been misguided, that time, James' lifetime, was permanent none the less.

And James did not relent to having been completely wrong about Dean, not entirely, even if he would grudgingly admit that Sam had been partly right.

He could not reconcil yet, the barstad who had caused so much pain, with the man who had inspired so much love.

Even his mother had not blamed Dean, though surely she'd had more reason than anyone in the world. Had never faulted him, had disliked it when James had. He still did not understand that, thought perhaps he never would, but that was besides the point.

And the point was, infact….

He'd had a mother and she'd died. Then he'd had Sam and he had found a Dad. There should have be no space for Dean, there was no space for Dean.

Yet.

Everything seemed to tie back to him, in the end. Every part of James and those he loved. Dean was intrinsic, a loathed epicenter in the world.

And he had once wanted him, a long time ago, he had wanted Dean but he'd gotten Sam and been more grateful than words could say.

Now he wanted Sam, had wished and preyed for him, but what he'd gotten was Dean, the man he no longer needed.

He'd wanted his father and he'd been given a Dad. He'd wanted his Dad and he'd been given his father.

It was, James realised, the irony of life.

TBC.....

DunDunDUN!!

okay so a lot of you probably saw that coming, but hopefully I got a few of you, right? PLease review and tell me, cause I'm a little stuck on the next chapter and in need of the inspiation.