Dean stayed away from Lecter the rest of the evening. The guy was focused on Will and Sam, so it wasn't hard to stay under his radar. Things got hella awkward when it was time to go to bed. Will kept making noises about him sleeping on the couch upstairs and letting Lecter have his bed. Or putting the boys downstairs, giving Lecter the bed upstairs and him sleeping on the couch. Sam volunteered to sleep downstairs with the dogs, but Dean vetoed that right away. No way in hell was he sleeping upstairs and leaving Sam down here.

Lecter, meanwhile, just smiled through it all and assured Will that everything would sort itself out before offering him some more whiskey. Dean was tempted to ask for some but he doubted the answer would be yes. Even Dad only let him have some when it had been a shitty day, and while today had been a spectacularly shitty day, he didn't think that reasoning would work.

As soon as Sam started to slow down, Dean seized his chance and suggested they go to bed. It was early yet, but he'd only gotten a few hours last night before the hunt. Will insisted on walking them up, and asking over and over again if they needed anything. Sam was half passed out in the bed in a t-shirt and his undies. Dean planned on sleeping in his jeans in case something happened but there was no reason for the both of them to be uncomfortable. Mostly he just wanted Will to leave so he could lay down some salt lines and feel a bit safer. While he suspected Will knew what he was going to use the salt for, he didn't have to make a show out of it.

With one last look, and a promise to return if they needed anything or had a nightmare, Will shut the door softly and Dean could hear him padding down the hallway and stairs.

"I'm not a little kid," he muttered at the shut door. Sammy was pretty good about not having nightmares and Dean had learned how to keep still when he woke up from one so as not to disturb his brother. Knowing Sam, he'd want to know what kind of nightmare it was and Dean was so not going there.

He checked the corners, checked under the bed and the closets. Pulled open every drawer or box and checked inside it. Nothing fishy. There was just enough salt in the shaker that he was able to cover both the door and the window if he kept his hand real steady.

"Don't mess 'em up," he told Sammy.

The boy grunted back. He'd woken up a bit during Dean's routine checks. He had most of the blanket wrapped around him, with only a head of tousled hair sticking out of the top. "I like it here," he announced. He knew to keep his voice quiet in an old house like this.

Dean scowled. "We're leaving as soon as I figure out how."

Sam sat up a little straighter and Dean groaned out loud. Lord, here they went. Sam had that mulish look on his face. "Why?"

And God did Dean wanna kill the man who came up with that word. "'Cause, this isn't our home."

"We don't have one," Sam muttered and Dean wanted to shake him.

"Yes, we do. It's the Impala with Dad."

"Can't we just wait here for a while? Till Dad comes to get us? Like we do with Uncle Bobby's?"

"Will's not Uncle Bobby."

"He could be. Like Uncle Bobby, I mean. He's nice, and he has dogs and a big yard we can play in. And he doesn't think we're weird."

Dean frowned but climbed into bed alongside his brother. Sam was smart enough to understand their family wasn't exactly normal. "Yes, he does."

"No, he doesn't," Sam answered back, not missing a beat.

Dean sighed. "Alright, stupid, what makes you say that?"

Sam thought for a moment. "He just doesn't look at us the way other people do. And he wanted to help us when there were monsters."

Well, shit. How to argue with that? Yeah, Will kind of sort of treated them pretty normal for a fed who thought their dad was a crazy killer. And Dean couldn't tell Sammy that monsters weren't real. Life would be a hell of a lot easier if he could lie to Sammy like that. "Will thought Dad was the monster," Dean finally admitted.

Sam scowled. "The deer?"

Crap. "No, Sammy, not the deer," he told him before taking a deep breath and hoping for the best. "Sam, these cops think Dad did something really bad. He didn't. Dad's a hero. But they don't get that. They think he's a monster and that's why they took us away from him."

Sammy shivered and Dean pulled him closer. "Dad's gonna come get us, right?" he asked so quietly Dean barely heard him.

"Definitely," Dean promised. "If we don't go to him first. But that's why we can't stay here long. It's okay for now," he reassured him. "Will's an okay guy for a fed – "

"You just don't like him 'cause he's a teacher," Sam mumbled, the smart ass.

"But this is just for a little while," Dean continued, pretending not to hear.

Sam was quiet and Dean started to hope he might just go to sleep. "But it's okay to like it here?" Sammy finally asked. "To like Mr. Will?"

"Yes, Sam, it's okay. And not just because of the dogs. He seems like an okay guy."

"Dean? You won't let the evil deer hurt Mr. Will, will you?"

Dean closed his eyes and tried to think, think, think, what Dad might have said about an evil deer spirit. "No, Sam, I'm not going to let it hurt him." Somehow.

Hannibal was sitting by the empty fireplace, a glass of whiskey in one hand and Bernie sitting at his feet. The tableau was a modern update on the traditional portrait of a European gentleman with his favorite hound. Will wondered once more how far off that comparison was. He didn't have a lot of experience profiling old European families, but there was a definite air to Hannibal that spoke of old money and the quiet confidence that came with it.

Hannibal's head turned as Will descended the last step. He didn't smile, but there was something direct and personal about his gaze that had Will looking away and forgetting what he had been thinking about. "Are the children tucked safely in their beds?" Hannibal asked, his voice a soft rumble.

"What?" Will replied, startled by the question. He should have expected it, even lost in his own head. It was a reasonable question. But the setting and tone and emotion added up to something strange and confusing. "Oh, yes. They're fine. I think Sam was already asleep before I left the room. Dean wasn't far behind." As much as it made him want to smile, there were always the shadows that followed the two boys. "Dean was waiting for me to leave," he announced.

Hannibal nodded. He gestured for Will to sit across from him. It should have been awkward, Hannibal playing host in Will's house, but it fit them. Will would have stayed hovering in the doorway, uncertain and slightly off balance without Hannibal's guidance. Instead he fetched his own glass and curled up in the comfort of his old chair. The room was smaller than Hannibal's office, the chairs not quiet facing each other, but closer together and his pack was spread out around them.

Hannibal waited until Will was settled and comfortable before continuing. "Given his state of hyper awareness and the violence that has characterized his life, it is to be expected that Dean would feel uncomfortable in a new environment and wish to take control of it."

Will nodded. "The salt plays into that," he added. He enjoyed building profiles together with Hannibal. It didn't leave him feeling as alone in the dark.

"Yes, undoubtedly. Nearly all of Dean's actions are motivated by a need to ensure his safety and that of his brother. He is, very much, a survivor." Coming from Hannibal, there were few words of such high praise.

Will smiled into his drink. "Yes," he agreed. He wasn't oblivious to the tension between Dean and Hannibal. Dean was far too independent and suspicious of 'official' adults to feel comfortable around the doctor, while Dean's aggressively defensive behavior bordered on rude by Hannibal's standards. But he also hadn't missed the way Hannibal had included Dean in his preparations, finding a clear task for the boy to accomplish.

Hannibal nodded as if he could tell where Will's thoughts had gone. He stared at the empty fire place for a moment, giving Will the chance to study him unobserved. "I can understand Dean's drive to protect his brother," Hannibal announced and Will felt a shiver work its way down his spine. There was something fierce about Hannibal in that moment and Will wondered what it would be like to inspire such fervor. A part of him wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end, what lengths would he go to. "Sam is a remarkable boy," Hannibal continued.

The sudden switch from fierce to gentle left Will reeling a little. It didn't feel natural to Will, but he tried to keep up. "Do you think he will recover from this?" he asked. He knew what he thought, but he didn't have Hannibal's expertise and knowledge.

"I think he will do splendidly," Hannibal assured him, without a doubt in his voice. His confidence made something in Will relax. Hannibal smiled at him. "Sam has an awareness of things around him that is unusual," he explained. "It should be encouraged and developed."

Will smiled back but his was a bit more strained and sardonic. "Funny, it's the things about Sam that are so normal that I find myself liking the most."

"Such as his fondness for dogs?"

Will laughed happily. Hannibal wasn't as fond of his dogs as he and Sam were, but he appreciated them in his own way. "Yes," he agreed.

Hannibal was now smiling at him. It was surprisingly nice. Normal. Will held his gaze for one long moment before letting his eyes drift naturally away. "I believe Sam would do very well long term under your guidance," Hannibal told him, his voice once more warm and almost vibrating behind Will's chest bone.

Except the words were ridiculous. Will's eyes widened before jerking his head around to stare at his friend and this madness that had suddenly come over him. "Long term? As in permanently? You're not serious."

"Very much so."

Will did not know what to do with that. "Why on earth would you think that?" Hannibal was supposed to be the logical one. The one that kept him grounded in reality and reasonable expectations. If he was this far adrift then the two of them were in serious trouble.

Hannibal stared back at him steady and timeless. "Why would I not?" he answered. Affirmed. In the way only someone as self-controlled and proficient as he was could. But then Hannibal glanced away, his chin tilting downward slightly and a small smile on his face that was different than the ones Will had seen before. "I confess," he said slowly. "My reasoning may be somewhat influenced."

Will stared at him in surprise, trying to figure out where the conversation was going. Usually he was better at predicting people but Hannibal had always been somewhat of a blind spot. "Influenced by what?"

"A desire to see you happy," Hannibal stated bluntly. He looked up suddenly and Will couldn't look away. He had to know, had to see. "Sam could be very good for you," Hannibal continued, his voice growing more impassioned as he went. "And you could be very good for him. I would very much like to see what both of you could be together."

There was longing there, and determination, and something that had been growing in his friend for some time but something he had kept hidden from him. "Hannibal," he said softly. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear more. He wasn't sure if he could bare it if he was reading this wrong.

"My apologies," Hannibal said as he suddenly pulled back and sat up straight. His glass was set aside, his hands folded in his lap as he faced Will with his complete attention. "My behavior is inappropriate. I am having more difficulty with maintaining my distance when presented with such a pleasant possibility."

"Maintaining your distance," Will echoed faintly as he tried to catch up with the conversation. "Because you're my doctor." That had to be it. It was a line he had heard before. A consequence of their professions.

"No, dear Will," Hannibal corrected gently with a look on his face as if in pain. "Because I am your friend. And I would want nothing to threaten that friendship between us."

"And I threaten that friendship?" Will demanded, confused and suddenly hurt. He was losing something and he didn't even know what it was.

"No. That fault lies in me," Hannibal told him firmly. "And my desires."

The word rolled off of Hannibal's tongue more visceral and with more weight than the English language ever intended. It filled spaces between them. Will's mind raced as he reevaluated every conversation, every action, every observed trait with this new information. There was a lot to reevaluate. Will hadn't realized how much of his life had become wrapped up in Hannibal.

"Oh."

Will said nothing more. He offered no protest. And Hannibal saw him and understood him.

Hannibal leaned forward and smiled slowly but wide enough to show a hint of teeth. "I am afraid," he said deliberately. "That I am not as good a man as I would like you to believe. Temptation can be too much for me to wait." Hannibal was very courteous in his apology. But it was also a promise. All of the earlier reluctance seemed gone as if it had never truly existed.

"Oh."

That smile only grew and Will stared at it in fascination as the other man continued. "If you would like me to leave, I will. But I would rest much better tonight if I knew you were not alone."

"Oh."

Really. Will had to find something better to respond with. But it was so hard when one of the central fixtures of his life had changed so drastically. So unexpectedly.

Hannibal stood up but only enough to crouch down in front of Will's chair. He reached out one hand and lightly laid it on top of Will's. His thumb gently traced the bone underneath. "Will you look at me, Will?" he asked quietly. It was harder with Hannibal so close. More difficult to maintain the distance between them. But it was not every day that someone was offering him something like this. Certainly not someone like Hannibal. And Will wanted to see everything. So he took a deep breath. Ignored the flush running down his cheeks and the way his hands were clammy. And he stared back at Hannibal.

"May I stay by your side?"

There was only one possible answer.

"Yes."