Thanks to starliteyes for looking this over for me.

Wayward Son

Chapter Ten

The next day no one said much. Dean was making a concerted effort not to look at Lilah, and she was doing everything she could besides outright yelling at him to get his attention. Sam wisely stayed in the background, not wanting to intrude on their intimate spat.

They drove her to the bank as soon as it opened, waiting outside while she collected her funds. As soon as she was done, they made their way to the airport where a private jet was waiting for them. Dean's anger faded into the background as he fidgeted nervously on the tarmac, waiting for Lilah to confer with the pilot. He couldn't decide if he was more nervous airport security would recognize them from flyers the F.B.I were sure to have sent out, or if it was the thought of being suspended three miles above the earth made him want to vomit instead. The last time he had ridden in a plane it was destined to crash forty minutes into the flight. The nose dive it took while Sam exorcised the demon was not something he wanted to relive—ever.

"Okay, we are all set."

Lilah's brown eyes cut over to Dean, and the frosty expression she had been wearing since they awoke melted from her face.

"Are you okay, Dean?"

She walked over to him, placing a concerned hand on his arm. He shook her off, looking everywhere but at her.

"Fine. Let's do this."

Sam glanced at his brother, noting the pallor of his skin and the clammy sweat clinging to his brow. Bravely Dean entered the plane first, followed by a frowning Lilah. Sam sighed heavily, knowing that it was going to be a long trip.

They settled themselves into the plush seats that were arranged den style so they could face each other and talk during the flight. A pretty stewardess clucked over Dean, never seeing the glare that Lilah threw her way. Dean ignored them both while he fastidiously fastened his seat belt.

"Here."

Lilah stood over him, her tone unfriendly. Dean glanced up, seeing small blue pills in her outstretched hand.

"What's that?"

"Valium. I ordered it for you yesterday." She grabbed the crystal cut glass of brandy from the stewardess Dean had ordered, offering it to him. "Drink up. Doctor's orders."

Dean eyed the pills, before taking them from her with a sigh. Sam relaxed as he watched Dean swallowed the pills, relieved his brother wouldn't be uptight for the entire trip.

The flight was much shorter than either brother expected. The private jet was far faster than a commercial airliner, and the muscle relaxers did their trick on Dean. Normally he would have been an irritable mass of grumpiness, bent on destroying everyone else's piece of mind; instead he lounged in his chair, barely speaking for the entire flight.

Once they landed, Lilah was treated to another surprise. Both brothers spoke Spanish fluently with enough of an accent to be clear that they hadn't learned their skills in a classroom. Lilah shot a questioning glance at Dean, but he ignored her as he took control of their arrangements. Within minutes they had their baggage collected and were on the curb hailing a cab.

As they waited, a flash of color caught Dean's eye. He turned his head to stare at a young boy no more than ten. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing a pair of bright yellow slacks that hung loose on his narrow hips. His black hair brushed over his forehead, drawing Dean's gaze to the boy's unusual gray eyes.

"Don't turn your back on the black cat," the boy muttered in Spanish before disappearing into the crowd. Dean rose to his tip toes, trying to see over the crowd, but the boy was gone and Lilah was calling his name. He turned around to see an orange cab had pulled up and the driver was loading their luggage into the trunk.

"Where to?" Dean directed his question towards his brother, knowing that their trip wasn't for pleasure like they told customs.

"Panteon de Belen," Sam replied without looking his brother in the eye. Dean arched a brow, but didn't miss a beat. He directed the cabbie to drive them to a cheap motel near the famous graveyard.

As he slid into the cab, Dean cast one last glance at the crowd, looking for a bright flash of yellow. There had been something about the boy that made the hairs on the back of Dean's neck stand on end. Gray eyes weren't all that common, and Dean had seen three people in the last week with the exact shade. Normally he wouldn't notice something like that, but when they appeared on a black woman and a Mexican kid, he stood up and paid attention. The cab pulled away from the curb, and plunged into a tangle of traffic that had all three passengers praying for clemency.

It took them nearly an hour to wind their way into downtown Guadalajara, near the Panteon de Belen. They found a cheap motel that was just a strip of rooms attached to a dingy cantina. Lilah frowned as she exited the cab, but Dean was in full dick mode, determined not to change his usual routine in any way just to accommodate her. If she wanted to tag along then she had to go where they went. If she wanted to be an uptight bitch who was too good for the likes of him, then that was her problem.

They piled into the office, Dean striding up to the desk with a furious frown on his face. He couldn't seem to sort out who he was maddest at: Lilah for rejecting him, or himself for reacting to it. The Valium was obviously wearing off, because the tension was back full force in his neck and jaw.

He was ordering one room with two beds when Lilah stepped up next to him. The shudder of awareness that skittered down his spine was instantaneous. He could smell the soft lilac scent of her lotion on her skin and feel the heat of her body next to his. He wanted to shift his weight and settle his arm around her shoulders to make room for her at his side. The urge to do so was almost instinctual, and it made him even angrier.

"Dos," she told the receptionist softly, holding her fingers up in a vee.

Dean stopped what he was doing and tilted his head down to look at her.

"What?"

She looked up, meeting his hard green gaze straight on. Her whiskey colored eyes had darkened to a deep umber, and had none of their usual sparkle. Her full lips were compressed into a tight line and when she spoke the words were bit out from behind straight white teeth.

"Dos. Tell him two rooms."

Dean's square cut jaw clenched and a muscle jumped in his cheek. He hadn't shaved that morning, and the dark hair on his cheeks made his face look almost feral. His eyes turned to chips of stone, and his thick lashes swept down to hide his hurt before he turned away without a word. He ordered a second room, ignoring the wad of cash that Lilah thrust his way, choosing to spend the last of his money instead of accepting hers.

Sam stood at the back of the room wondering if it was possible to actually fade into the stripped blue and white wallpaper. It seemed like he was doing a lot of that lately; trying to make himself smaller so his big brother didn't notice him. The more Dean concentrated on Lilah, the more freedom he had to put his plan in motion. The days were ticking by, and three months was melting into two before Dean would be pulled into Hell.

He hoped that Dean would repair his tenuous relationship with Lilah soon, lest he turn his brotherly attention to him. As desperately as Sam wanted to spend time with his brother, he refused to believe that he wouldn't have a chance to do so after the deadline was up. If he could just pull this together, find another soul to swap with Dean's, then just maybe they both could have a real chance at Happily Ever After.

Dean spun on his heel, stomping out of the room. Sam followed tentatively after him, casting a regretful glance at Lilah who was left to carry her own bag to her room.

Dean was eager to drown himself at the cantina, but not before he weaseled some details from Sam. There was something at the cemetery the Powers That Be were interested in. Sam refused to give any information other than that no matter how intensely Dean hounded him, which given his foul mood was pretty serious. They decided the easiest way to gain entrance to the walled cemetery was by infiltrating a tour group, then loosing themselves among the crumbling mausoleums. The last hour long tour was at midnight, giving them plenty of time to collect their treasure and get out.

Once that was settled, Dean disappeared for the cantina. He knew that his brother was hiding something important, but Dean couldn't seem to get his head in the game. Every time he cornered Sam, a random memory of Lilah would make him lose track of his thoughts. He wasn't happy about the situation he was in. His brother was lying to him, the woman he desperately wanted was shunning him, and he was in a foreign country. The only good thing so far was the tequila. He ordered another shot, and stared at his ragged image in the mirror above the bar.

8888

"Wanna talk about it?" Sam asked while staring at the back of his brother's head.

"No."

They were standing in line, waiting for entrance to the cemetery. Dean had decided, despite Lilah's protests, that Sam was healthy enough to join him on the hunt. They didn't expect trouble beyond not getting caught, and it was high time Sam got used to standing on his own two feet again.

The throng of people were mostly American tourists and a few local teenagers looking for a good scare by going on the midnight tour in the supposedly haunted graveyard. The people chattered nervously, and a couple of young boys were horsing around by the thick, ivy-covered walls. A tour guide appeared at the head of the group, speaking a mix of Spanish and English as he led them inside the wrought iron gates. Wordlessly the brothers drifted to the back of the crowd, following along until they reached their destination.

"How long are you going to pout for?"

"I don't pout, Sam. That's all you," Dean bit out without looking at his brother. Sam sighed deeply, and Dean hunched his shoulders against the sound.

"I think you're going about this all wrong."

"Well, there's a shock. You bitching about how I do things." Dean shot Sam a scathing look, shoving his fists deep into his jean pockets. The air was warm and thick with humidity. From the west a cloud bank was rolling in, promising a spring thunder storm in a few short hours.

"You never know, Dean. You might benefit from my advice just this once." Sam fought the urge to stick out his tongue at Dean's back. His brother could be so childish sometimes that it elicited the same irrational urge from Sam.

"Yah, cause you know your way around women."

An overweight white guy, herding two teenage daughters glanced back at them, the thick skin on his brow set into rolls. Dean sneered back at him, daring him without words to start something. The man's jowls trembled and he ushered his daughters deeper into the crowd.

"As a matter of fact, I do. I have been in a relationship for longer than one drunken night."

"Dude, so have I," Dean shot back.

"Yeah, Cassie. Look how that turned out."

Dean didn't reply, just stared at the tour guide as he rambled on about the numerous haunts in the cemetery throughout the years. They followed along for a few moments, and Sam thought the conversation had been dropped.

"It's just, that---I never know what's going on in her head. One minute she's all cuddly and the next she doesn't want anything to do with me. She's just so—Fuck, I don't know, Sam."

"Persnickety."

Dean wheeled around to face his brother, his face drawn into a mask of confused disgust.

"Dude, what are you eighty? Who talks like that? What did they teach you at that ass backwards school of yours?"

Sam rolled his eyes and kept walking, body-checking Dean on the way. Dean easily let himself be knocked off the cobbled path, conscious of Sam's cracked ribs, and trailed after him.

"That's what Jess used to say whenever I accused her of being wishy-washy. She said it was her duty to be persnickety. That a woman's job is to keep her man on his toes."

They paused under a huge oak, their guide rambling on about the legend of the Vampire Tree as they spoke. The crowd moved on, and by unspoken agreement, the brother's melted into the shadows. As soon as the group was well out of range they emerged from the darkness to stand next to the tomb that the old tree grew out of. The marble was cracked and broken, and there was plenty of room for someone to slide their hand inside to feel around.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Sam."

Dean was staring at the tomb considering his options as he spoke. He squatted near the edge, grimly rolling up his sleeve on his over shirt.

"Look all I'm saying is that Lilah probably wasn't too keen at the thought of making out while I was lying in bed three feet away. She's not like the other women you are used to dating, Dean. She does have dignity. Probably standards too," Sam muttered the last part as he watched his brother reach into the crack, idly wondering what sort of poisonous spiders inhabited Mexico.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at his brother, an embarrassed flush spreading across his cheeks.

"You heard that?"

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, scrubbing the toe of his boot over the crabgrass.

"Dude. It's me. As soon as you guys moved, I woke up. I am a hunter, you know."

Dean snickered, and Sam thought he heard his brother mutter the world 'barely' under his breath.

"Shut up."

Sam just barely resisted the urge to kick his brother in the ass as he squatted in front of him. It would serve him right if he nose-dived into the crumbling marble.

"What am I looking for here, Sam?"

Sam shrugged, stepping closer so he could peer over his brother's shoulder.

"I think it's kinda long and thin. Made of metal. Probably has a lot of carvings on it."

"So this femur bone I got my hand wrapped around probably isn't it."

"Probably not."

Dean leaned in further until his entire arm disappeared up to the shoulder. After a minute, he grunted and withdrew from the tomb. In his hand was a golden tube about six inches long and an inch in diameter. It was intricately carved, and if Dean didn't know better he would say that it was made of solid gold.

"Score," Dean chortled, standing up to examine it in the moonlight.

Sam stood stock still next to him, his hands clenched at his sides. He knew if he tried to snatch it from his brother that Dean would know something was up. But the urge to do so was overwhelming. Combined with the blood ritual that was locked away in his brain, he would be able to free Dean from an eternity in Hell. All he needed was one last piece, and he was sure that Madison would be visiting him soon with the information he needed to save his brother.

For now he had to resist the need to run his hands up and down the carved metal cylinder. Dean was eyeing him curiously, and Sam fought to keep his face impassive.

"You know what this is for, Sam?"

"No."

"Do you know why you are having freaky visions about it?"

"No."

Sam's responses were clipped and emotionless. This was the first time Sam was having visions unrelated to the demon. Now that Old Yellow Eyes was dead, the continuation of Sam's Shining was freaking Dean out more than just a little.

He decided to ignore the little skitter of unease that raced down his spine, and stowed the tube beneath his shirt. They fell in step together, heading back to their tour group. Sam wanted to tackle Dean to the ground and snatch the tube from him, but he controlled himself. It didn't matter who held it for now, only that it was in their possession.

"She didn't have to be so mean about it."

It took a minute for Sam to backtrack and figure out what Dean was talking about. The words were so soft it could have been mistaken for Dean talking to himself. However, Sam knew better. His brother was hurt by Lilah's actions, having never been rejected by a woman before.

"Yah, she was a total bitch."

Sam meant the words to be sarcastic, but the way Dean rounded on him had him thinking that he hadn't pulled it off so well.

"She's not a bitch!" Dean grit out from behind clenched teeth, his lips pulled back into a fierce snarl. Sam jumped back, his hands raised in submission.

"Dude! I was joking. I actually think she was pretty nice about it. After all she could have jumped up screaming about what a filthy pervert you are."

Dean opened his mouth, and Sam held up a hand to dissuade him.

"You are a filthy pervert, Dean. You can't deny it."

Dean glanced at him sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders in a way meant to convey his apologies for jumping down his brother's throat. Sam took that as permission to push his point further. He grabbed Dean's arm as he was turning away, looking his brother in the eyes.

"Listen to me. You've got something special here, Dean. Don't fuck it up."

Dean's eyes flickered towards the ground, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably. Sam waited in silence, knowing something was on his brother's mind.

"What's the point, Sam? I've got, what? Two months left? That's hardly fair to her."

"Two and a half," Sam corrected automatically.

Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. "You know what I'm saying."

Sam swallowed the hard lump forming in his throat. The thought of Dean dying made him sick, and it reiterated what he already knew in his heart. He had to save his brother no matter what.

"If you didn't know, would you still pursue her?"

"Are you kidding? I would totally try to tap that."

Sam fought the urge to rub the pulsing ache forming between his eyes. His brother was nothing if not an enigma--first defending Lilah's honor then objectifying her.

"She'd reject me of course, 'cause I am a total pig." Sam stared at Dean like he had lost his mind.

"What? I'm not completely unaware, Sam. It's just now, with my end nearing, I'm more--" Dean waved his hand in the air, looking at nothing in particular. Sam could have sworn he heard the word girly come out of his brother's mouth, but he wasn't sure.

"Sensitive?"

"Whatever. All I'm saying is that I have a real chance to be with a woman who normally wouldn't look twice at me. And as totally awesome as that is, that's not why I want to get with her. I really like her, Sam. What am I supposed to do about that? I'm going to die in two months, and she's going to be left with that. I can't do that to her."

Sam stared at Dean, his heart constricting in his chest. It had been a long time since Dean had been so brutally honest with him. He didn't know what to do with this new insight into his brother. He slipped his fingers into his front pockets, his eyes boring into Dean's.

"Maybe you should try being honest with her," he said softly.

Sam walked past him, merging with the crowd. Behind him, he heard Dean's grunt of acknowledgement.