CHAPTER VII: GOOD NIGHT KISSES

PART I- ROCK ME TO SLEEP

"Willis, FBI."

"Still manning 1800 hunters?"

"I understand why Bobby's so glad to have us around."

They had been at Bobby's for a little over a week, and they were helping him run "hunter central", as they now called his home base. Their job consisted in doing research, looking for various formulas for spell works, running errands, answering phones, impersonating government agents, and helping other hunters by figuring out how to kill all kinds of obscure creatures.

"I've been here five hours," Sam explained. "Between the police line, the FBI, the Health Department, and all the guys calling, the phones never stop ringing. I forget what name I'm supposed to answer with half the time. I haven't had a moment to eat and I'm sitting in the kitchen."

"Hey! You're taking a break, and you're eating," Dean ordered. "I'd take you to the buffet when I get back, but it's a waste of money."

"Trust me, Dean, you eat enough for two."

"If I didn't fill up your plates, you would never get your daily dose of hunter Wheaties."

"Yeah, about that, you can stop anytime. Forgot how bossy you are."

"Please, you love it. You get to sit like a princess while I go fetch your food."

"Whatever. If I never see a buffet again, it'll be too soon."

"Why you always gotta kill my joy?"

Sam cracked a smile. "What about you?"

"I got almost everything on the list. I'm just missing the rattlesnake root."

"Is that Dean?" Sam looked over his shoulder and saw Bobby walking by, wearing an old kimono and worn out slippers that might have been blue in a previous incarnation. The old man has been enjoying a well deserved vacation since the Winchesters had taken over the 'business'.

"Yeah," Sam answered.

"Tell him Rufus just called me on my cell. A body."

"Dean, Rufus has-"

"Man, another body? What is it this time?"

"I don't know." Sam shrugged since as Bobby had already left.

"Guess I'll be home late again."

Sam sighed. Dean insisted on doing all the field work. He had worked the phone lines for two days, until Bobby mentioned that Rufus could use some help with a demon problem. Suddenly, he had no more patience for all the idiots who kept calling with the stupidest questions they could come up with, plus he hated sitting around doing research all day, and Sam could paper chase like nobody's business all by himself anyway, right?

Sam had seen right through his brother as always. He knew Dean thought he wasn't ready to get shredded by monsters just yet; face acrimonious demons that, no doubt, thought the tale of his torment with Lucifer was the most entertaining piece featured in the latest Demon Quarterly, or stumble into any situation that would trigger traumatic memories and twist the knife in wounds that were still fresh.

In other times, Sam would have been irritated to be treated like he was made of glass, when he was perfectly able to take care of himself and quite competent at his job. But it was before he had spent more time being tortured in Hell than he had actually been alive. It had given him a different appreciation of that valuable, complicated thing that was love, and the strange and unusual ways in which it manifested itself. There were worse things than having a brother with an overprotective streak, and besides, Dean would get over this mother hen phase soon and things would go straight back to normal.

"I'll see you tonight then," he replied. "And Dean? Try not to get arrested again. Sheriff Mills is getting tired of bailing us out."

"It's not my fault that meddling old Mrs. McKee, called the cops when she saw me breaking into the library after hours!"

"Just be careful."

"Aw, what, Sammy? Afraid I won't be there to kiss you goodnight?"

A slow smile slid across Sam's lips. Since they started working, the night was their time to be alone; no pesky phone calls, no errands to run, no Bobby shuffling in and out of rooms looking bored, and no Rufus and his collection of bodies falling out of every crack, crevice, and hole. Just the two of them, meeting on secret playground to end the day the way they had started it, resting in each other's arms. Sam wouldn't mind adding a kiss to their nightly ritual.

There was a silence, and when he answered, his tone was slightly regretful and teasing when he said, "Like you ever do that." Before Dean could react, he added softly, "Gotta go. I have another call."

He wasn't exactly lying. The Federal Marshall line started ringing as he was hanging up. He promised himself that he would fix himself a plate after the call, otherwise he was in for a lecture when Dean called back to check up on him. Sam's smile widened in anticipation; he couldn't wait for tonight. The strident noise brought him back to reality. He lifted the phone. Until then, he had work to do.

Dean rolled his aching shoulder and pushed the front door close. He heard noise coming from the library and Sam's voice welcoming him in before he had even reached the room. Home, sweet home…

"Hey, Sammy," he greeted when he saw his brother sitting on the couch.

"Hey."

"Man it's good to be home." Dean tossed his car keys on top of a bookshelf. "What are you doing?"

Sam turned the TV off. "Waiting for you. Hungry?"

"Yeah."

"I'll heat up some leftovers for you."

Dean followed his brother into the kitchen. He took a beer from the fridge, threw his jacket on the table, and sagged onto the chair. He was dog tired, his clothes smelled like smoke, and his shoulder hurt like a bitch, but none of it mattered any more when he saw Sam walk toward him with a hot bowl of chili topped with shredded cheese and a bag of tortilla chips.

They smiled at each other as Sam sat down next to Dean, so close that their knees were touching. "I thought you were hungry," he reminded after a while.

Dean nodded, glancing down at his plate. He was. He had just forgotten about it for a second while he wondered how Sam would react if he slid the back of his knuckles down his cheek… ever so gently.

"Eat with me?" he offered, dipping a chip in the spicy stew and crunched into it with gusto.

Sam declined, a fond expression on his face. "I ate an hour ago."

"Yeah, I know, it's late."

"How's Rufus?"

"Better than ever, now that his personal gravedigger is on call."

"I hear you." The elders had been living on easy streets since the younger, more dynamic duo had moved in. "Bobby spent the morning in pajama shorts, and-"

"Dude! I'm eating."

"Like this is going to stop you. He left in the afternoon, supposedly to play cards with Mr. Bennett, but when he came back... I think he's getting pedicures."

"Can we please stop talking about Bobby's legs and feet?"

Sam chuckled when Dean put down his beer just as he was about to drink from it. "Maybe we should ask him where he gets them?"

"Before I hit you."

Sam's lips quivered as he struggled to contain his laughter. "So what was it?" he asked, agreeing to move on.

"Erqigdlit."

Even if Dean had replied with a full mouth, Sam was able to make out the name. Their father had hunted one once, after it had torn a team of mountaineers to shreds.

"In somebody's house?" he asked, dumbfounded. "I thought they never left the mountains."

"That's what Dad always said. According to Rufus, monsters have been all over the place lately."

"But how? They're not shapeshifters. They don't exactly blend in."

"I'm sure they hide during the day. Well this one did. We don't think they are others in town." Dean took a sip of beer. "Sucker was hard to kill. The lore says silver should do it. Apparently, it just put it to sleep for a while. Rufus buried it yesterday. Then found the grave open this afternoon and that's when he called. We tracked the thing down all the way to this girl's house."

Dean exhaled hard and shook his head. He had seen a lot of things in his time, but the red fur-covered part human part canine creature, easily made the top three of his 'do-not-want-to-see-ever-again' list. Seven and a half feet of pure fugly. He was fifteen when he had first encountered one. He had caught glimpses of the human-like torso and arms, tail, sharp claws, and pointed ears before John had pushed him out the way and ordered him to hide behind a rock with his finger on the trigger while he took care of it. This time, he had faced the bloodthirsty monster himself, and held his own, even coming out on top after getting tossed around a few times. He and Rufus had subdued the beast with a barrage of silver bullets, then Dean had dragged it outside to burn it to a crisp.

"She's probably getting nightmares for a whole year. The poor girl was hysterical. She threw herself in my arms, screaming her head off."

Sam's lips thinned into a hard line. "Really."

"I did my best to calm her down. I tried to channel my inner Dr. Phil, and Rufus checked the house and backyard twice and fixed her a drink her before she finally let go of me. You would have given her the puppy dog thing and it would have probably been over in five minutes."

Dean looked up from his plate. "What?" he asked, surprised by the grim expression on Sam's face.

"When did you get there? The girl's house."

"Nine-ish."

Sam nodded slowly and checked his watch. It was one in the morning. His nostrils flared imperceptibly when he noted, anger contained in his too soft tone, "Wow. Took you guys a long time."

"Told you, I had to baby sit. She was alone there."

"What about Rufus?"

"He was with her while I was burying the carcass. Then, when we were ready to go, actually Rufus was already in his car, she called me back and begged me to stay a while to make sure nothing was after her."

"That was nice of you."

"What can I say, I'm a professional. Helping civis is part of the job. And it wasn't so bad. She likes football, so we stayed in her living room and talked about-"

"Is she pretty?"

"Yeah. Not really your type though."

Easy, frisky, with a deep cleavage and little subtlety. Exactly the kind of girl Dean liked to snack on when he was bored. Great.Sam got up stiffly and walked away from the table.

"You're gonna see her again?" he asked.

"She invited me to diner on Thursday. Says she makes a mean crumble berry pie."

Yeah, I bet she does.

Sam gripped the counter, fire burning behind his eyelids. He could already see it. Some beautiful girl ―of course she had to be―, hanging off his brother's neck, all wet, batting eyelashes, trembling lips, and "oh, handsome stranger, you are my hero!", trying to keep him around, and manifestly not so traumatized that she couldn't arrange for a date the same week. He wouldn't have to worry about any of it, had he worked the spell the way he meant to, before he had started regrowing a conscience.

"Sammy? You listening?"

He could feel it bubbling under the surface. The anger that made him explode from within and demolished everything around him. He needed to calm down before he lost it. He leaned over, one elbow resting on the counter and one hand over his chest, taking deep breaths, trying to gather the parts of him that were trying to get away.

"Sam?"

Dean's worried voice reached him through the fog. God, how was he going to explain this? He was breathing hard and fast, struggling to get himself under control. He knew what happened when he panicked, and he couldn't let Dean see that. The usual method wasn't working, and he no longer had the option to do this quietly. He let out a groan and shoved the eruption down so violently that he collapsed.

"Sam!" Dean rushed to his brother's side. "Sam?" He leaned over his brother's body, one hand placed over Sam's chest while the other pushed the too long hair out of Sam's face to touch his forehead. He slid his palm down the burning skin to feel the pulse in Sam's neck. It was strong, like his heartbeat. He lifted his brother up and pleaded, "Sammy, look at me."

Sam didn't do it. Bobby's tests might not have revealed anything, because whatever he had become had no reaction to salt, holy water, silver, iron, or the word 'Christo', but in moments like this, he was afraid his eyes might reveal something. Once, in his life, they had turned ink black and he hadn't even realized it. It didn't bother him much when he was tormenting Lisa, his goal was to scare her, but he couldn't bear his brother looking at him the way she had.

He felt strong arms close around him and hold on to him as he was praying the ground would open up and swallow him. He dropped against his brother's chest, his head throbbing in pain, wanting to forget all the problems he seemed powerless to solve.

"It's okay, Sammy, I got you. Just, open your eyes, please."

Sam finally complied with fear gripping his heart. He was washed with relief when he saw his brother smile.

"What just happened?" Dean asked.

Sam looked away.

"Talk to me."

"Just… I just need a moment."

Sam's throat tightened. What was he supposed to say? That his powers were back, stronger than ever? That he had become something even demons were afraid of? That these days, when he got pissed, really pissed, scared…jealous, or threatened, in any way, he turned into some kind of nuclear device, and he didn't always know where to find the off switch?

He almost felt like crying. Good thing he no longer did that; it would spare him further humiliation for the day. Things had been going smoothly up until now. He hadn't felt those sudden, painful bursts of power, since he had reunited with his brother, and he felt discouraged that it took so little to throw him off balance again.

He was fed up. He wasn't asking for too much, was he? Just a place where he could feel safe again. Something he wouldn't have to fight to keep, every single day. He was so tired of fighting; that's all he had done in Hell, fight the pain, fight for his sanity, fight to hold on to the shreds of his humanity. Even when he had come back, he had to fight again. He was still fighting this curse that was trying to take over his life, and after being crushed under Lucifer's cloven hoof for over a hundred years, his tolerance for things that hurt was exhausted.

He let out a tired sigh. Dean squeezed him a little closer, rocking slightly and giving him a moment's peace before trying again.

"Flashback?"

Sam jumped on the all-too-convenient explanation. "Yeah. Sometimes a memory hits me out of nowhere. Not just the memory, but the physical sensation too, and it's just…too much, and I can't…"

"It's okay." Dean spared Sam from saying more since he obviously wasn't ready. "Let's make you a drink."

"I just want to go upstairs."

Dean helped his brother up. He slipped his good arm around Sam's and walked him to their room. He didn't care that he was still hungry. At this point, his one thought was to get into bed, and he stripped down to his t-shirt and underwear and dropped onto the mattress like a sack of potatoes while Sam was in the bathroom.

His eyes closed, he extended his arm toward his brother when he sensed him in the room. He felt Sam crawl next to him and rest his head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around him and recalled, "When you were little, like really small, sometimes I would place you against my chest. You used to love it. I think you were listening to my heart or something. Worked like magic."

"I'm sure it did. You were probably the one who always knew what to do with me."

"Damn straight. I had a bunch of tricks, and they were all foolproof," Dean said proudly. And as the leading expert on all things Sammy, he had no problem telling the few baby sitters they had how to do their jobs. How they were supposed to hold Sam, what irritated him, what made him laugh, and what to do when he scrunched his face like a dried prune. "You weren't too much trouble, but when you got a little cranky, the fastest way to calm you down was to pick you up and lay you on top of me. Of course now, you'd only crush me to death."

"Shut up."

Dean opened his eyes long enough to see a smile lighten Sam's features. He started rubbing his brother's back, tracing soothing circles on his skin. He felt the tense muscles gradually loosen under his touch, then Sam stretching out against him with a moan before making himself more comfortable, throwing his arm and his leg across Dean's body. Dean pressed a light kiss on his brother's forehead.

"Dean?"

"You asked for it, now shut up, and relax."

Sam hid his smile and avoided further comment. He knew if he was an ass about Dean's chick flick moment, his brother would make sure it didn't happen again.

"How you feeling?" Dean asked.

"Better."

Dean wished Sam's answer was enough to reassure him. It wasn't. What is it that you're not able to tell me? he wondered. What the hell happened downstairs? Does it happen often? Is it something I did? Something I said? He had a million questions, but he knew from experience that pushing for answers would do more harm than good. He wasn't too eager to delve into the gory details, of what had happened to him after he had come back from Hell himself. Sam would get there on his own time. Still, knowing it didn't help ease his worries. There was this weight crushing his little brother's soul, and he desperately wanted to help. I wish I could take this pain away from you… "Good night, Sammy."

Sam cleared his throat. Dean raised his eyes to the ceiling and dropped another kiss on his forehead.

"High maintenance bitch."

"Lower," Sam demanded, not minding the taunt. He'd show Dean high maintenance. "I get stiff from working at the computer all day."

Dean scoffed. "You should be giving me back rubs. I'm the one out there digging."

Sam twisted his body to guide his brother's arm lower down his back. "A little to the right," he added, "and this would be a lot more relaxing if you didn't speak."

Dean shook his head. "You're loving this, aren't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Dean chuckled, and then he lowered his hand, moving it slightly to the right. Anything for you, Sammy.

Part II – The Magic Fingers