I keep telling myself I'll update sooner. I never do. But classes are almost done. This chapter is longer though. Should make up for the wait. :) Back to another flashback chapter.

Ch. 13

One month ago.

"Alright. She's locked up and safe." Dean sighs, turning to Sam. "I guess it's time to leave Baby behind.

Sam pats him on the back.

Dean gives him a sad smile. "I know. But it still sucks."

Sam nods in agreement.

"C'mon. We have a while to meet Mark, but I want to take our time. Hurrying sucks. Besides, I've never walked across states before."

"We could drive, you know?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Until we run out of gas."

"New car."

"Let's walk, Sammy. This is a post-apocalyptic world."

Sam chuckles. "Dramatic."

"Am not. It's true."

"No apocalypse."

Dean shrugs. "Maybe not, but it's starting to look like there was."

Walking through the town and looking at the ruins and scorch marks on buildings where a fire had worked its way through, Sam has to agree. "Little bit."

"Oh please. I'm right and you know it."

"Only a bit."

"Always."

"Nope."

"I'm the older brother. I'm always right."

Sam snorts.

Dean glares at him. "Bitch."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Jerk."

"Hey!"

The brother's stop, spurting into action a second later in an instinctive move for protection. Back to back, they both look to the three men who walk up to them, guns in their hands. Dean's eyes narrow, assessing them even as he tries to make peace. "Easy, boys. Just passing through. Not looking for any trouble."

Sam is more comfortable with the situation than he thought he'd be. It helps to have the solid weight of Dean's back against his as they press against each other and outwardly face their confronters. He holds his knife on one hand, his other hand ready to grab his other knife from his boot at the signal from Dean.

Dean has his gun out, though he keeps it low and unthreatening. For now. "What seems to be the problem?"

One of the men steps forward. "The supplies in this town are wiped out. You two seem to have quite a bit there."

Dean tenses. Great. Things out here seem to be worse than he thought if supplies are already disappearing. "Now, now. We found these fair and square. We're going to be traveling for a long time. We need the assurance of extra supplies."

A second man steps forward, cocking his gun. "Surely you don't need all of them."

Dean tenses, gun tight in his grip. "If you put the guns away, I can tell you where you can find your own. It's only a couple days walk from here. We drove it in one."

"In what?" the third man sneers.

"A truck," Dean lies. "Ran out of gas a few miles back."

The second man, who had cocked his gun, steps forward again. "We don't have a couple days. We're starving now." He raises his gun to aim at Sam's head. "Just give us one of those backpacks, and your boy here lives."

Sam feels Dean stiffen at his back. He almost grins. This is going to be good.

Dean fingers the trigger of his gun, raising it a little higher. His eyes lock on the man, unwavering and filled with the promise of death. "Put. The gun. Down."

The man is oblivious. The idiot. "Or what? You'll shoot me? He'll be dead before you even raise your gun."

Dean's eyes narrow. "You've got three seconds. One."

The man rolls his eyes.

"Two."

He goes to aim at Sam's head, finger just starting to put pressure on the trigger.

Dean fires. Three shots. One and a half seconds at the most. All three men drop to the ground. "Three."

Sam looks to him in amusement. "You could have just shot him in the hand."

Dean looks to him, eyes still flinty. "He threatened you. That's punishable by death."

Sam chuckles, hand closing over Dean's shoulder before he puts his knife away.

"Besides," Dean continues, "I probably did them a favor. It seemed like they were going a little crazy."

Sam nods. "Losing it."

Dean assesses his brother. "You alright?"

Sam nods.

"No jitters or nothing? Still here with me?"

Sam rolls his eyes, patting his brother's arm in reassurance.

"Just making sure. I need you sharp out here, Sammy."

Sam smiles softly to himself. It's funny how Dean still can't admit to just loving his brother. Always using the excuse that Sam needs to have his back.

"Well… I'm glad our place is back in the woods. And we locked it up pretty tight too."

Sam nods. Then stops walking. He looks incredulously to Dean. "Go back?"

Dean hears the full question loud and clear. 'We're going back after this whole thing is over? Living the simple life? No monsters?' He gives Sam a crooked grin. "What can I say, I like the place. Besides, I'm ready for retirement now. Wait until we're done with this whole war thing. I'll be ready to die in peace."

Sam lets loose a brilliant smile, bounding over the two feet separating them to crush Dean to his chest in a tight hug.

"Sam!" He flails. "Let me go, Sasquatch!"

Sam chuckles warmly, letting go after another quick second and tight squeeze.

Dean dramatically brushes himself off, giving his brother a dirty look as Sam keeps giving him that same bright smile. "Wipe that smile off your face. You're giving me the creeps. Where'd 'doom and gloom' go? I liked him. Less 'grabby hands'."

Sam sticks his tongue out at him.

"Very mature."

Sam keeps grinning.

Dean shakes his head, turning away before his own smile can take over his face. This is the first time Sam has smiled for this long in a very long time. "C'mon Francis, daylight's awaistin'."

Sam gives him a shove in the shoulder, replacing his bitch face since Dean doesn't turn around to see it.

"Easy. Breath with me. C'mon."

Sam matches his breathing with the rhythm of his brother's, his back pressed tightly to his chest. He closes his eyes.

"Relax. I won't pretend to know what's going on inside your freaky head, but we need to fix this now before something happens where you need to protect yourself. Okay?"

Sam nods, eyes still closed. He's focused on the press and retreat of his brother's chest against his back.

"Alright. Open your eyes. Aim. Keep steady. I'm right here."

He does. Vision centering on the target Dean made for him on an old fence. He steadies his hand. Aims. Fires. Misses. A weird wine makes its way out of his throat.

"Hey, it's okay. I know you've never missed that far in your life. We're just getting you used to this again. Control, remember. Like your knives. Just because it separates from your body, doesn't mean it can't be a part of you anymore."

Something clicks in Sam's mind with that. Like Dean. When Dean stops touching him, he's still a part of him. They still work flawlessly together. Extension. Just not attached. Not like his knives. Like a gun. Dean's like his gun. He aims again. Fires. A new hole appears an inch away from the bullseye.

Dean grins, tightening his hands on his brother's shoulders in a praising grip. "Perfect, little brother."

Sam looks over his shoulder, giving him a bright smile before turning back. He fires off two more shots. The second makes the bullseye. Not perfectly in the middle like Dean can. But good enough to fend anything off.

Dean grins, patting Sam's back as he steps away from where he had himself right behind him for a little more comfort. He knew it'd be easier to help if he were right there with his brother, rather than feet away. "See. I knew you could do it."

"You seem to know more than I do about what I can do."

Dean smiles. "I have faith in you, Sammy. You need to get some of that."

Sam nods, looking down at the gun in his hands. "Guns wouldn't work."

Dean blinks, breath catching when he realizes Sam is telling him something about hell. He doesn't say anything. Waits it out.

Sam continues after a minute or so. "It was only when I managed to get a knife away from him that I was able to hack away like he would to me."

Dean cringes, glad Sam isn't looking at him to see his reaction.

Sam is turning the gun in his hands. Seemingly studying it. "I had no control when I was able to get guns away. And it shocked him enough every time that it took him a while to make it disappear. But it wasn't illusions down there. He was able to create real things. When I could, I grabbed real weapons. It always gave me a minute of satisfaction when I could hurt him back. Before he started in on me again for punishment."

Dean flinches. He forces himself to stay where he is until Sam's done. Doesn't want to break whatever it is that's helping Sam talk this out. He wants to be able to help.

"But guns never worked. He was able to vanish to somewhere else before the bullet hit him. It was when I had a blade in my hand that I was able to get at him. Grab him. Cut off his wings." A bloodthirsty edge creeps into his voice. "Sometimes I was able to get to Michael too. But then Lucifer would hurt me more. So I mostly targeted him." He finally turns to look at Dean, eyes dark.

Dean takes this as his chance to move forward.

"I was able to cut both of his wings off once," he says with a purely satisfied grin. "The way he cut into me after was so worth it. It takes months for them to grow back."

Dean has to keep from shivering at the tone of his brother's voice. The 'Lucifer echo' is starting to make its way in, but if Dean shows any discomfort with Sam sharing what went on, he might close up. "Easy, Sammy. You're here now. I won't let anything hurt you ever again." He slowly reaches out to take the gun still in Sam's hands, easing it gently away.

Sam looks down like he's shocked he's still holding the gun. He releases it instantly, almost jumping back from it. He looks to Dean, eyes wide. The windows to his soul are wide open, emotions like a hurricane swirling inside. Fear, pain, anger, desperation.

Dean drops the gun on the ground, pulling Sam into his arms as his 'Sam the killer' side melts away and he becomes Dean's little brother again, just pleading for him to make it all better. "Shhh, Sammy. I'm right here. I'm right here. It's okay."

The sobs are silent. A small snub to Lucifer. But he can't hold back the tears. He just clings to Dean, knowing his big brother can make it all better.

"God, I am so proud of you. Hurting him for what he did to you." He tightens his arms when he feels Sam tremble. "Easy, Sammy. Sammy."

Sam relaxes at the nickname, peace washing over him with his brother's low timber. He soaks in the sound, reveling in the Sammy, Sammy being whispered in his ear. "Dean." He breathes the name into his brother's neck.

"Sam." He runs his fingers through Sam's hair. "You're alright. I'm here."

Sam takes a deep breath, suddenly pulling away and trying to compose himself again. He wipes away his tears and runs a hand through his hair, not looking at Dean as he gets his breathing back under control. Just whispers a quiet, "Sorry."

Dean rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "Now c'mon. Don't do that. Come here." He pulls Sam back, giving him a normal hug this time, not a clinging one. "I keep telling you I'm fine with this. Just believe me. Okay?"

Sam eventually relaxes into the hug, bringing his arms around Dean too. He lets out a sigh. "Thanks."

Dean's quiet, just waiting a few more seconds before giving his brother's shoulders a last squeeze before letting go and stepping back. "You alright now?"

Sam nods. He gives Dean a small smile.

Dean smiles back. Smiles are good. Dimples are better, but it doesn't look like those are coming back for a while. Sam's almost content now, but not happy. He can work with that. "Alright. Let's get moving. The way things are cleared out around here makes me think we might have a settlement somewhere nearby."

Sam nods.

"You okay with that? We can stay on our own if you want."

"Settlements are safer."

Dean nods. "Okay. But if you want to leave you just tell me."

"Okay." He links his finger in Dean's sleeve.

It's a good five hours before they come across the first signs of a big group of people. Dean's limp is starting to creep up on him. The hints of civilization are traps set up. Fences. Gates. Lucky for the brothers the traps are easy to see for them and they follow the fence around the perimeter, knowing there's probably a front gate somewhere. They find it, open but guarded by a few men.

Dean walks up, feeling Sam's finger link onto his sleeve again. "Easy, Sammy," he murmurs quietly. He pulls on his old Dean Winchester persona. The one that hasn't softened for Sam. "Hey guys."

One of the men ambles over, totally at ease. "You looking for a safe place?"

"Just for a day or two. Me and my brother are on our way east."

"Not exactly the safest way."

Dean shrugs. "We have our reasons."

The man snorts. "Don't we all." He nods back towards the gate. "C'mon. We have plenty of room here."

Dean frowns. These people don't know how to check for leviathans… "Don't you want to make sure we aren't one of the bad guys?"

"We do," one of the other men at the gate says, suddenly stepping forward to grab Dean's hand and pull his arm out to give him a quick cut right above his wrist. He nods when he sees it's red, taking a step towards Sam.

Dean's hand shoots out, gripping the man's wrist in a bruising grip.

The man winces as his bones grind together, hand almost opening to drop the knife. He grunts, looking to Dean.

His gaze is cold. "Don't. Touch him." He shoves the man away, pulling out his own knife. "I'll do it."

Everyone watches him with both wary and confused looks as he turns to Sam and asks him with his eyes if he's okay.

Sam hadn't even taken a step back when the man had turned towards him. He knew Dean would interfere. He's glad. He doesn't think he'd be able to handle someone else coming at him with a blade right now. He meets Dean's eyes, holding out his arm and mentally reassuring his brother that he's fine. He barely even flinches when the knife cuts him. He notices Dean makes it only about an inch long. As little as possible.

Dean turns to them, holding out his brother's arm to show the red. When he gets a nod from the man who came out to meet him, he continues inside the settlement. "Next time," he growls, "ask the person to show you themselves outside the gate before you ambush them."

They keep to themselves, observing everyone and what life is like here.

Everyone seems to give them a wide berth. No one tries to talk to Sam. Dean makes the deals with the suppliers. Sam stands back at Dean's shoulder or waits in eyesight nearby to look at something or someone. He's nervous, but his curiosity is stronger, Dean observes proudly.

When Dean is finishing up and about ready to head out and find a room to stay in, he turns around to look for Sam. He finds him and, as he's walking over, he pauses. Sam is watching kids playing with a ball in the street. And there's a little girl, a cute little thing with light brown hair and one of those adorable noses, maybe about three or four years old who can't keep up with the other kids. Sam's gaze is on her, face a mix of adoration and pity.

The kids run by, the little girl following behind. She runs right on the edge of the road in front of Sam, tripping on a dip in the cement and starts to fall.

Dean is already smiling before the girl even trips because Sam sees the dip. He knows. He's already crouching down and reaching out as the girl starts falling. She never hits the ground, though her knee does get a little scraped up. Sam saves her from a lot of pain. Dean notices a lot of the adults tense up when they see Sam reaching for the girl. They're all watching with baited breath to see what he'll do. Dean smiles. Sam is about to show them how much of a gentle giant he can be when he lets his walls down.

The girl squeaks as she trips, and does again when Sam catches her. She whimpers when her knee drags across the ground before Sam can stop it, but even as her eyes fill with tears, she looks to Sam as he sets her back on her feet. Dean can't hear what he's saying. He doesn't think anyone can. His brother is murmuring to her as he's pulling a tissue from the stash Dean knows he has in his pocket and wipes her knee off, his other hand still holding one of the girl's hands.

The girl nods at whatever he's saying, already trying to stop crying.

Sam folds up the tissue, using the clean part to reach up and wipe the tears off her face. He says something else that makes her smile. He smiles back, bright and pure, something Dean's only ever seen when Sam looks at him. Sometimes, very rarely, Dean wishes he had a camera. This is one of those times. It's actually beautiful, Sam's big form crouched so he can be almost eye level with the little girl and one of his huge hands holding her tiny one as he wipes her tears away.

When he's done, Sam says something else that makes the girl smile. Then she jumps at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Sam blinks in surprise before he slowly returns the hug, a smile spreading across his face. Everyone around watches in shock. The girl leans back to kiss Sam on the cheek, making his smile wider. He runs a hand through her hair when she pulls back, telling her one more thing that makes her giggle before he nudges her the way the other children had gone.

Dean realizes with a jolt of certainty, that this is what Sam would have been like with a daughter. He feels a hole in his gut as he thinks of how Sam will never have that. But he feels better when Sam immediately looks for him and gives him one of those smiles brighter than the sun, dimples and all, when he sees him. Like a little kid, asking 'See what I did?'

He smiles back. Yeah I saw. He walks over, patting Sam on the back when his brother stands back to his towering height. "C'mon. Time to find a place to sleep." They both ignore everyone's questioning and awed looks as they walk away.