Sam forced himself out of his thoughts and said, "You want a drink? I need a drink." And without waiting for a reply from his brother he went to get the alcohol he needed.

Dean watched his brother's retreating form and sighed, sat down and scrubbed his hands down his bearded face. He was regretting everything right now. He was regretting coming here, regretting interrupting his brother's life and most of all he was regretting that he just laid all of that crap on his brother. Sam didn't need to live with the crap that Dean lived with, and he most certainly didn't need to have Dean's emotional shit shoveled onto his shoulders.

Dean sighed, what was done was done. He couldn't take it back, no matter what kind of supernatural stuff he knew, he still hadn't found the one that took him back in time and fixed stupid things said.

Sam came back into the room, snapping Dean out of his mental ass kicking, and handed his brother a glass of amber liquid. They saluted each other and Dean took a drink. He wrinkled his nose at his brother.

"Dude you make more money in a week than I've seen in my entire life and you drink this watered down…." Dean stopped realized something and then gave a small grin. "Holy water. You laced this with holy water."

Sam smiled over his glass. "Yes brother, I did."

"Way to go Sammy."

"I didn't forget everything you and Dad taught me."

"Obviously not." Dean downed the glass.

"But how was I to be sure that your story was true, and that you really are my brother. Gotta make sure."

"Bet we ate with real silver forks tonight too."

"Yuppers." Both brothers grinned at each other and Sam produced the bottle of spirits and poured both of them another glass. "So, how long ago were you possessed?" Dean's face instantly sobered, and his first thought was to tell Sam that it was none of his business, and to get the hell out of dodge, but he had crashed his brother's home, with his presence he had managed to put everyone in this house in danger, the least he could do was answer his brother's questions—no matter how difficult, or how painful. He looked at his glass, and downed it without a thought. He needed the liquid courage if he was to get through this conversation.

"It was right after you got married."

"You said that you were at the wedding." Sam said also hoping he could get a little of that story out of him as well.

"Yeah. I was." Dean smiled to himself and the picture of Sam and Jessica on the mantle caught his eye. "She was beautiful that day, all glowing and radiant, and smiles. And you looked so happy Sammy. So completely and truly happy." Dean played with the glass for a moment and then looked up at his brother. "I was jealous of the guy that stood next to you, who was your best man. When we were younger I always figured that it would be my spot if it was ever in the cards for us to find hot chicks and marry them."

It was Sam's turn to look into his glass and avoid eye contact with his brother. "I wanted…" Dean held up a hand stopping Sam from finishing the sentence.

"Old crap Sam. It couldn't be helped, it was just the way things were. Nothing we can do to change it, and honestly, it isn't something that should be changed. In order for you to get here…" Dean gestured around him to the house and all of its contents. "I couldn't be here. It's just facts." Dean sighed reached for the bottle and poured another glass. Dean took a drink and then looked at his brother.

"But you didn't ask about the wedding, you asked what it was like to be possessed." He finished his drink in a gulp. "It was a couple of days, maybe a week, after your wedding, I was in Wisconsin chasing a lead on a ghost or something, at the time I didn't know what it was, and I was at a bar, and there was this hot chick there, super hott." Dean said with no trace of his usual smirk or of real fondness of the memory. "I took her back to the motel." Dean shrugged. "Did what I do, and we fell asleep. Or I thought I fell asleep. Turns out she whammied me and the demon got all up inside me." Dean toyed with the glass for a minute. "Most of the time you get to be unconscious when a demon rides you. Nope. Not for me. I was conscious and going the entire time. Turns out they needed me awake so that I could tell them where you were….where you had gone on your honeymoon."

"Her parents gave us a trip to France."

"I know." Dean nodded. "Thank God for small favors." Dean let out a breath. "And when the demons found out that I wouldn't tell them anything, they started the torture." Sam handed the bottle over to his brother, he'd just finished pouring himself a drink and sensed that Dean would need some fortification for the rest of this story. Dean took the bottle with a nod and poured enough to fill the entire glass and downed it.

"They started with going around and killing hunters I knew, using my face and my hands to kill P.." Dean stopped wiped his forehead and took a deep breath and said, "Pastor Jim."

Sam's eyes went wide. "They made you kill Pastor Jim?"

"Yeah, that was the wakeup call, the demon said. Said that if I told them where you were then they wouldn't kill any more people I cared about."

"I wouldn't tell them. I wouldn't. And they realized that killing the people I love wouldn't do it, that they needed to torture me. When Dad and Bobby found me, they found me almost dead, on the floor of some warehouse, filthy, naked, bleeding, and babbling."

"Why didn't you just tell them where I was?" Sam asked softly.

"Sell you out? After all of the work you had done to get the normal, and to have such a pretty woman, and a good woman by all accounts love you? Damnit Sam that is the holy grail in our lives. I wanted you to have it. And something about it just seemed wrong, why would the demons go to all of this trouble to find you? What is so special about you that makes them go to all of these great lengths to find you?"

Sam leaned back against the couch and looked at his drink. He hadn't thought about that before. That was a really good question. "I don't know." He finally said looking at his brother.

"I don't either, but it seems to me, that if they want you that badly, that it can't be good."

"That also begs the question, why would they let Dad sacrifice himself so I wouldn't be hounded by demons? That seems to be counterproductive."

Dean's eyes widened and he ran a hand down the length of his face. "Probably because they knew that if they killed everyone I knew and love, that I'd eventually come right here, and do exactly what I'm doing." Dean closed his eyes hung his head and muttered. "Damnit."