A few hours later, both of them were laughing raucously, trading hunting stories like nobody's business. By this point, Dean had established that Sam was a 'total geek', and Sam had decided that for a guy whose main topics of conversation usually led to violence or porn, Dean seemed to have his heart in the right place. All in all, they were feeling pretty close, especially in the warm atmosphere of the bar, with alcohol running lazily through their veins.

So when a break in conversation fell, Sam found his usual inhibitions fading away. "Made a vow to myself this morning."

Dean giggled. "Nerd. You sound like one of those fantasy gamers."

Sam stuck his tongue out, smiling back (he'd always been a happy drunk). "Takes one to know one…"For a moment his line of thought faded away, and then it was back. "No this is serious. I decided to find them."

"Find who?"

"Dean and John Winchester. My brother and father. If they're alive. See, when I was-"

"Four years old you were discovered in a motel room in Evansville, Indiana. You were asleep in a ring of salt and on a pentagram. The police took you into protective custody, and then you went into care. You never saw them again." Dean was white as a sheet, his voice rough and soft, and suddenly he seemed far more sober than Sam had thought he was.

Squinting, because he was definitely drunk, Sam frowned at Dean. "How'd you know that?"

But Dean's hands were on his shoulders suddenly, too tight, too close, and Sam was twelve years old again and Gene Hadley was coming for him….He wasn't really sure what happened next. He was pretty sure he punched Dean, and then he was stumbling out of the bar, into the cool night air.

Dean ran out after him. "Sammy!" Sam whirled, trying hard to focus, and Dean held up his hands as if he was calming a wild animal.

"Woah, calm down kiddo. It's alright, I'm sorry if I spooked you."

Sam shrugged, shaking his head and pushing his palm into his eyes. "S'not your fault. What were you saying?"

Dean came close again, not as close as before, but close enough that Sam could feel the warmth of him, see how level headed he was (and Christ, that was impressive, how much did this guy normally drink?)

"Sam, I'm your brother."

A beat of silence passed, and then Sam shook his head, frowning. "No you're not."

His words were slurring and Dean looked impatient as he reached into his jacket, dragging out his wallet. "Look at this picture Sam! Look at it!"

By now the warm fuzzy edges of drink were creeping back from Sam's mind, and he found his vision coming into focus as he was presented with the four year old version of himself, next to a small kid with freckles and a larger, grizzled looking military man in a leather jacket. Memories of warmth and sunshine, freckles and "Dean, look after your brother" in a voice he barely remembered came swimming into his mind.

Sam bit his lip, feeling suddenly very small. He looked from the photo to this Dean, stranger Dean, his brother Dean's desperate face.

"You're my brother?"

Dean nodded, and his eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I found you Sammy. I finally found you."

He'd never be sure who initiated it, but after a second, both of them were in each other's arms, holding on for dear life. Sam shut his eyes, and just for a second, he could imagine everything was going to be ok. And then Dean was pulling back and shaking his head with a twitch of his nose.

Sam stared at him, unable to stop his own tears from coming as he stared at Dean, taking him in in a whole new light. He had a brother. (He wasn't alone).

Laughing, Dean shook his head. "You've still got the same damn puppy eyes."

"You're smile hasn't changed much." Sam snorted. "Or those cute little freckles." He'd meant it as a tease, but Dean looked like he'd been punched in the gut.

"You remember that? Me?"

Rubbing a hand over the back for his neck, Sam shrugged. "Well sure, bits and pieces at least."

Half a smile pulled itself onto Dean's mouth, and he ran his hands over his face. "I….well you know, I was 9 when we lost you. I always remembered you. But I was always worried that if I found you, you wouldn't…you know, you just wouldn't want…"

"What, a brother? You?"

Dean shrugged helplessly and Sam punched him lightly on the arm, smiling. "Geez, you really are an idiot, aren't you?"

"And you're still drunk."

Sam giggled, taking out a cigarette and lighting up. "Maaaybe. And I suggest." He took a long, slow drag, feeling it calm the shaking nerves he'd barely noticed under the warm blanket of drink still settled on his bones. "Once I've finished this, that we head back inside and celebrate."

"Oh no." Dean was smiling, but he shook his head. "I think that's enough for you tonight."

Scowling, Sam pinched his cigarette and deliberately blew a puff of smoke into Dean's face, wanting to laugh at the way the guy childishly screwed his eyes shut. "Come on man. You can't be taking care of me yet. Big brother duties don't start till morning, deal?"

"Uh-uh." There was a pause, and Dean frowned, though he was fighting back a grin. "No damn puppy eyes yet Sammy. Let me pay, and we're getting you back to your room."