Disclaimer – Not my characters, I just use them improperly.

You like? You don't like? Review and tell me why! (Constructive criticism only please, if you don't like the subject, don't read the story.) If you haven't read Full Moon, Fast Cars yet, you'll probably want to read that first :)

As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to review, I really do appreciate it :) Unfortunately I do have some bad news; I'm not gonna be around much for the next two weeks, so I'm not going to set a date for when the next chapter will be up because I have no idea when I'll be able to sit down to write it, let alone post it! But don't worry, I will try to get at least one chapter up at some point, and everything shall go back to normal once I'm back with regular internet access… Anyway, hope you all enjoy the chapter, and please review, it makes me happy!

Chapter 20

Dean woke with a start. The room around him was dark and cold, and for a second he felt the tendrils of the dream pulling him back. Sammy…

He sat up quickly, his heart pounding.

And felt the still hand slipping down his bare chest. He looked down at the bed around him. Sam was asleep on his side, one arm gentle across Dean's waist. The punch he'd taken to the nose had darkened, plum bruise lines circling his eyes like he hadn't slept in days. But his lips were twitching in a sweet smile, and Dean smiled back even though the kid couldn't see it.

Sam was okay. Sam was safe. Dean let himself relax, the dark of the motel room no longer threatening. He lay back down, careful not to disturb the sleeping kid.

Sam made a tiny noise and rolled closer to him, nuzzling into Dean's collarbone. His forehead creased in a momentary frown as his sore nose pressed at the skin and Dean gently shifted him to a more comfortable position.

Now Sam was in no immediate danger, everything taken care of for the time being, Dean allowed himself to breathe freely. He hadn't realised how much tension he'd been coiling in his body, the worry lines that had carved themselves into his face. He had been so scared for Sam.

The only time Dean could ever remember feeling fear like that was before, when his father would go hunting by himself and not check in for hours, days. Dean would sit patiently in an anonymous motel room, the TV on constantly so he could give himself the illusion of not being alone. Sam's disappearance had brought back that same type of fear; the desperately avoided feeling that he would never see the kid again.

Dean wondered for a second what it meant. Then Sam snuffled against his neck and his thoughts were wiped away by a big stupid grin that Dean couldn't seem to hide.

Sam was woken by a sharp ray of morning sunlight sneaking in through the crack in between the curtains and falling across his face. He blinked bleary eyes and rolled his head away, his mind trying to catch up and take in his surroundings.

Everything from the past few days floated back to him and he suppressed a wince at having to deal with it all over again. He rolled over and met Dean's eyes, the other man lying close enough for Sam to feel his breath whispering across his cheekbones.

"Hey." The other man's lips quirked in a gentle smile and Sam felt himself soften into Dean's embrace.

"Hi."

"How's the nose?"

Sam reached up, prodding at his face experimentally. "'S'okay I think. Doesn't hurt too bad."

Dean's smile widened. "Well, you've got some pretty face paints at the moment." He stroked a forefinger down the bridge to the tip of Sam's nose.

A blush spread across Sam's face at Dean's attentions and he smiled back.

But apparently he couldn't just let himself enjoy the moment, and he found the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "Are you still mad about the Colt?"

Dean closed his eyes, a pained look tightening his face before he pushed it away forcibly. "Sammy, I wasn't…It wasn't like that. I just…I just don't get why you always have to do it all yourself. I'm here. I'll help."

Sam rolled onto his back, staring up at the off-white ceiling and its spider web of cracked paint. "I know you will. But I had to do this. I had to…to face him, one last time. Just to know."

"Know what?" Dean propped himself up on an elbow beside Sam, leaning over to meet his eyes. He didn't look angry, his eyes half-shut like he was trying to think through a difficult puzzle.

Sam looked away, inexplicably ashamed. "To…to make sure that..." His hands clenched into fists, tugging at the floral bed sheets. "That I wouldn't regret leaving him."

"What?" Dean blinked furiously.

Sam sat up, turning toward him. "Dean, it's…" He took a long breath. "I was afraid that, without me around, he might…"

"Might what? Might drink himself to death?" Dean said, his voice rising. "So what if he does? Sam, you owe that man nothing!"

The other man stood, bed sheets falling to the floor in a crumpled mess. Before he could lock himself in the bathroom, Sam caught his arm. "Dean, wait. I didn't…" He pressed his eyes closed, letting his head drop forward. He continued in a small voice. "I just…I guess I was hoping that, if I could see him again, he might have…changed. Stupid, huh?"

Sam didn't look up at Dean, but he could feel the sudden angry tension draining from the air around them. The mattress sagged beside him and Dean's arm wrapped over his shoulders. "Ah, Sammy. Kid, I'm sorry."

The sympathy in Dean's voice wrenched something in Sam's chest and he pasted on a parody of a smile for the other man's benefit. "It's okay. I knew he wouldn't change. I just…had to make sure."

Dean was quiet for a moment. "Sam, do you…do you want to go back to your dad?"

"What? No!" Sam answered, his head spinning to face Dean. "No, I hated it with him. But I still…I guess I just wanted his approval or something."

"Sammy…" Dean's hand squeezed at the back of his neck.

He let himself take comfort in it for a second before standing quickly, Dean's arm falling away from his shoulders. "I'm gonna take a shower. Your dad probably wants to meet up, talk about what we're gonna do next."

"Sam…"

"I'm fine. Really." Sam heard the often-repeated lie as he spoke it, biting his lip and turning back to Dean. No more lying, not to Dean. "I'm just…working it out. In my head." He tried a smile; hoped it worked better than the last one. "I'll be okay."

Dean knocked on his father's motel room door, feeling Sam's presence like a shadow behind him. He didn't understand the compulsion the kid had, always striving to make his own father want him. The words from earlier echoed in his head. I hoped he would change… People like Jim Miller didn't change. They were ruthless, focused on their goal. They didn't care who might get caught in the crossfire. Sam deserved better.

Caleb opened the door, a smile growing on his face as he caught sight of Sam.

"Hey kiddo, you're still here." Dean inwardly winced at the man's words, hoping Sam wouldn't shrink away at them. But to his surprise, a self-deprecating grin spread across the kid's lips.

"Yeah, decided to stick around this time."

"Glad to see it." Caleb said, patting Sam on the back as they entered the room.

They'd only been in the motel one night, but from the explosion of books and print-outs on every surface, take away boxes of Chinese food littering the table, anyone would think John had been camped out here for weeks.

"Dad's really gone to town with the demon hunting." Dean observed idly, trying to keep the resentment out of his voice.

Caleb nodded. "You know your daddy. Been up half the night looking for new leads on the demon, now we got the Colt to kill it with." He grinned at Sam again, acknowledging him with a nod. "He's gone for breakfast, should be back soon."

"So what've we got?" Dean asked.

"Not much right now. Seems pretty quiet out there. But John thinks the demon's plannin' something soon."

"Yeah? How does he know?"

"Well, he doesn't. But all these recent attacks on kids, he thinks there's gonna be a few more before the demon disappears again."

Dean closed his eyes, trying to shut out the clamouring thoughts. His dad didn't really have a clue. They were going on less than nothing, and all because John Winchester wanted the demon dead.

"Well we should get researching." Sam's voice broke in on his attempt at zen calm. Dean breathed out, hoping it didn't sound too much like a long-suffering sigh.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam said, quiet so that John and Caleb wouldn't hear. The other two men were in the corner of the motel room, examining the Colt for perhaps the fiftieth time this morning.

Dean dropped the heavy book he was holding, letting the spine bang on the table. "I'm fine, Sam, why?"

"You just…every time we talk about going after this demon, you look like there's a thousand things you'd rather be doing."

Dean looked at him, eyes unreadable. "Well, yeah. Killing a demon isn't exactly my idea of a fun time."

Sam blinked, looking down at the table. "No, I mean, it's like you're indulging a little kid. Like you don't really want the demon dead, but you're going along with it. I just don't get why? I mean," he blushed, "the demon did…you know, kill your mom."

A flash of anger lit up Dean's eyes, quickly suppressed by that resigned look the other man had been wearing all morning. "Yeah, it did. And I really don't want it to kill any more of my family, thanks."

"Your dad can take care of himself, you know that."

"Yeah, he can. But I wasn't just talking about him." Now Dean blushed as he realised what he'd said, looking away as he picked up the book again and seemed to immerse himself in its pages.

Sam blinked. Oh. He stared at Dean a moment longer, but the other man resolutely didn't look up.

"Okay boys. I think we found something." John announced loudly. Dean looked up from the book spread across his lap, his back clicking painfully as he shifted on the bed. They'd been researching for hours, none of them with any real idea of what they were looking for. Sam was scrunched up on the floor beside the bed, his head inches from Dean's hand. Dean had found himself toying with the long strands of hair spilling onto the bed more than once, and he hoped neither his father or Caleb had noticed. That was a revelation Dean could do without having to deal with.

"What've we got?" Dean asked. John stood, pushing his chair back from the little table in the corner. The Colt rested in its box beside him. Dean hadn't seen his father let it out of reach all morning, like now he had it, he wasn't going to let it slip away again. Dean caught his fingers sneaking their way into Sam's hair again and thought that maybe he knew how his dad felt.

"Summoning ritual, to call the demon." John held up an old leather-bound book, its cover scuffed and scarred. "We can bring it right to us."

Dean blinked a few times. "Are you serious?"

John glanced over at him, his face calm. "Yes. We can get it here and take it out."

"Easy as that, right?" Dean said, pushing himself up from the bed. "Because its not gonna be prepared for anyone summoning it."

Caleb straightened from his slouch on the other bed. "John, maybe Dean's right on this."

John shook his head. "If we can summon it and trap it here, we can shoot it with the gun."

"Yeah, but John, it's gonna have the advantage of knowing we're here and up to something. Better to do what we've been doing, go after it when it's goin' for some kid and take it by surprise."

"If we summon it, we can be ready, we can have exorcisms and bindings on hand if it goes wrong. And it knows we're tracking it, hell, it probably knows we're all here." John insisted.

Dean shook his head, his face tightening. "No, dad. We can't risk it. If it knows we're here, then we prepare. We should wait for it to make the first move."

"Dean…"

"Dad, I mean it." Dean wondered absently where the sudden ability to stand up to his previously impenetrable father came from. "We wait, or we don't do this at all."

John's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He put the heavy book down on the table carefully and gave a brusque nod in Dean's direction. "Fine. We wait."

Dean didn't miss how his father's fingers lingered on the cover of the book.

Sam felt Dean's finger tips tugging at his hair again and suppressed a happy smile. He tilted his head back on the mattress a little to give the other man better access, letting his eyes drift half-shut. Dean didn't realise he was doing it, Sam was pretty sure. Like it was a reflex action, a reassurance that Sam was there, and okay. He felt a faint trace of guilt touch him, knew it was his own fault for disappearing on Dean, but he pushed the feelings away and let himself enjoy the moment of contact.

His family. Dean was everything he had, more than he'd ever expected. And it felt good, felt like how a family was supposed to feel. Like someone cared about him.

Sam let his eyes drift over Caleb, sat on the bed staring at a handful of print-outs with a blank look on his face. Sam was pretty sure the other man stopped seeing them about an hour back. As he watched, the corner of Caleb's mouth twitched upward like he was remembering something amusing. John was still focused on the five open books spread around him on the table, one hand screwing in his hair. His mouth was set in a determined expression and his eyes were darting back and forth across lines of text.

He wondered what he'd be doing right now if he was still with Jim. Probably curled up in the corner of a motel room, keeping quiet. Or enduring some inventive form of torture. Sam pushed it all away, focusing on Dean's fingers massaging his head instead.

"You boys want to take a break and get some lunch?" John broke the silence suddenly, apparently enough for Dean to realise that his hand had migrated to Sam's hair yet again. Sam's head was yanked backward as the other man's finger got caught in a knot of hair. There was a frantic second of Dean trying to discreetly untangle himself without drawing his dad's attention, Sam's scalp protesting the treatment.

"Yeah, yeah okay." Dean stuttered. Sam glanced up, watching in amusement as the other man's face rapidly reddened. John was watching him quizzically, his head tilted to one side.

"Dean? Are you alright?"

"Fine, I'm fine." Dean said, ducking away. "We'll, ah, go pick up some food. C'mon Sam."

Dean hustled him outside.

"Are you okay? God, I didn't hurt you, did I?" His hands encircled Sam's head, tugging it forward and stroking through little patches.

"I'm fine, really." Sam tried to hide his smile.

"Sorry." Dean's subsiding blush flared up again and he dropped his hands with a wide-eyed glance back at the closed motel room door separating them from John. He turned quickly and started walking across the lot toward the diner at the end of the street. Sam hurried to keep up with him.

"Hey, don't worry. I don't think your dad saw anything."

Dean gave him a little smile. "Yeah, I know. Just, I don't really want him to find out. Like that, I mean."

"Dean, even if he did see, I doubt he's gonna jump straight to the conclusion that we're…you know…" Sam ducked his head.

"Together?"

"Yeah." Sam peeked through his hair, trying to gauge Dean's expression. They'd never discussed out loud what they did in the privacy of motel rooms, never classified it. It made him feel warm deep in his belly to know he hadn't wrecked this fragile thing by running away. "Together."

They stood waiting for their order in the mom-and-pops diner, Dean scowling at the abundance of kitschy décor, Sam smiling and scrunching his nose up at a blond-haired boy in a highchair.

"Sam," Dean began, startling him out of his face-pulling contest with the toddler.

"Yeah?"

"About…about my dad." Dean looked at his feet as he said it, rubbing at the back of his neck like he always did when he was uncomfortable. "Do you think - that summoning ritual, do you think he'll try it?"

"What? No, he knows how stupid that'd be. Even Caleb said so."

"Yeah, but people do stupid things when they think they have to." Sam heard the pointed remark and worked to keep the apology off his face. "And my dad, he's always been set on killing this demon. There's-there's not much he wouldn't do to kill it." Dean met his eyes and Sam couldn't remember the other man ever looking so young and unsure before.

"Dean, he wouldn't do it, not by himself."

Dean didn't look convinced. At that moment the pretty waitress called their order, interrupting whatever he was going to say.