AFTERWARDS

Sam unwrapped himself from the blanket with a great deal of reluctance and carefully tried to stretch his long body out without waking his brother. The back of the Impala was hardly enough room for one grown man to sleep in, let alone two. He felt as if he had been folded against normal human capability in at least four different joints in his body.

They had tried to get out of the area the previous evening, but the explosions, gunfire and resulting carnage had resulted in so many sirens from all directions and so many alert eyes that in the end Sam had taken the decision to drive the car off the main road and down yet another dirt track, looking for anywhere to hide. Eventually the only thing he could find aside from sparse scrub and rocks was a few more trees, so he gave up and drove right in beneath their protective branches, all too aware of the rough ground against the wheels of his brother's most treasured possession, and parked it as deep into them as he felt he could safely get. Then he had grabbed the knife and slid out of the driver's door to quickly hack down a couple of branches to try and cover their tracks and the rear of the Impala.

Then all he had to grab was the medical kit and Dean's bag, and bring them and his brother into the rear of the car where at least he could start to try and assess his injuries. Hospital was out of the question in any event: he just hoped there was nothing that he couldn't deal with himself.

But of course Dean had been more worried about the blood still spilling on Sam's arm where he had been shot and insisted on checking that first. Sam had sighed and removed his shirt, knowing it was easier that way. Luckily the bullet had passed straight through without doing too much actual damage on the way: it would heal given rest and enough time. Sam sat and studied Dean's face as he carefully stitched the entry and exit wounds: his brother looked exhausted and was obviously in a lot of pain. Gently he leant forward to kiss him.

Dean turned his face away. "You don't want to do that, Sam. Not for a long time." His voice was still rough and rasping, but at least it sounded a little better after the cooling bottles of water.

Sam put his right hand up and caught his brother's cheek, careful not to grip too hard. "I'll always want to kiss you." And he proved it, licking tenderly into his brother's mouth until he could taste him again.

Then he could feel moisture running down beside his fingers as Dean began to cry. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe now."

"No. I… I'm sorry I couldn't stop them, Sammy."

Sam paused from kissing him and gently pressed their foreheads together: "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. That's my job, after all."

"No, I should look after you!"

Sam couldn't help his dimples from appearing as he wrapped his arms fully around the smaller man: Dean would always be his big brother no matter what.

"You done stitching me? I want to check you over!"

The answer was a grunt: "Almost."

Only once he had been satisfied did he let Sam slip the blanket from around his bare shoulders and allow his to examine the open but drying wounds on his back.

Sam felt immense relief: "They haven't gone too deep: they should heal okay. You were lucky."

Another grunt: "Drayton's a master with those whips. He won't risk letting anyone else use them on me: he knows exactly how hard he can strike. Fucking hurts though."

Sam kissed the back of his neck. "He'll never hurt you again."

Dean sounded surprised. "No. No, he won't. He's gone, hasn't he, Sam?" There was wonder in his voice. For the first time Sam realised what the pressure of always being watched; of always being afraid every time he saw the man; wondering what he would be forced to do or have done to him; what that must have actually been like for his brother. He must have lived with so much fear and so much worry for so long. And now it was over. At least where Drayton was concerned.

One bastard down, one to go.

Dean sighed and rested his head against the back of the seat as Sam gently began to wipe away the dried blood and began to bandage his torso tightly. He couldn't do much about the bruises that Dean was covered in over the rest of him: the men had obviously enjoyed hurting him, but such was the authority of the now dead bastard and his obsessive possessiveness over his slave that it meant none of them had dared to go too far. Dean would hurt for a few weeks, but eventually recover. Sam climbed over him so he could kiss every single one of the darkening areas, claiming his brother's body back for himself, and openly letting Dean know he was still very much wanted.

"I heard what you said. About always being mine."

He felt Dean's eyes on him: "It's the truth."

This time he didn't turn away as Sam moved to kiss his lips. "Sam?"

"Yes, big brother?"

"Will you take the rest of it away as well? I don't want the memories of today."

Sam broke the kiss and looked into his eyes. "You sure, Dean? I don't want to hurt you."

"Please?"

Sam nodded and reached for him. They were sitting ducks if their hiding place got noticed anyway. And the only thing that had mattered to him at that moment was his brother.

Which was why Sam was now unwrapping his long and completely naked body from around his brother's smaller naked body and untangling himself from the blanket that he had wound round them both when they had finally settled down to try and sleep...

They had crossed the final line left between them. He had understood immediately why Dean had asked for him to do so. His brother had wanted Sam to replace the bad memories of the last twenty four or so hours with a good one: he'd wanted to be close to the body that he was beginning to know as well as his own, to feel Sam's strong arms around him. To know he was securely back in his master, brother, lover's embrace where he belonged. Where he felt safe.

Where he knew he was loved.

Dean had needed Sam like Sam needed Dean. And knowing that he hadn't forced Dean into anything was a huge relief for Sam, because he would have hated himself for ever if he thought he had. As it was, he had made love to his brother with far more gentle tenderness that he had ever done to anyone before, all too aware of how much in pain his brother must have been.

And it had been absolutely incredible.

Even squashed as they had been in the back of the Impala.

For the last few months, ever since he had found out the truth about Dean, Sam' emotions had felt as off-balance as if he had stepped onto a tightrope stretched high above an abyss; one false step and he would fall. The only safe movement would be to move backwards, but he couldn't turn to see what he would be stepping back onto, whether it was safe ground or something to be run from.

But he hadn't wanted to: he had continued wobbling forwards, because he knew his brother was on the other side of the crevasse….

And last night in the car, with all the emotions and pain and fear of loss, it felt to him as if Dean had himself finally stepped onto the wire to meet Sam, holding out his hands in something far more than just support. Although Dean could still try and turn back to get back to safety…Sam supposed he could as well if he wanted to….

They would have to wait and see if they fell together, each returned to where they had been….or if just one of them fell alone.

Gently Sam leant forward to rub his nose against Dean's, adjusting his angle as the other man stirred in his sleep to bring their lips together in a gentle but loving kiss. It woke Dean fully and he blinked sleepily up at his brother.

"Good morning." Sam smiled as he stared down into the crystal-clear waters of his brother's shining green eyes, and knew that there was no way he would be stepping back.

"Mornin'." Dean rubbed at them oblivious of how he was ruining the effect as his voice came out as a sore-sounding croak. He coughed as he tried to clear it. "Have we any more water?"

"There's some left in the front seat. And still some potato chips if you can bear them on your throat, How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. But I'll live. We'd better try and get moving."

Sam nodded reluctantly: "You just get dressed, I'd brought your bag of clothes into the front, then you go back to sleep if you want. I'll go and clear the branches." But he had to kiss Dean again before he got dressed just because. And the way it was returned….

For the first time since before Dean had come to fetch him from Stanford, Sam felt hopeful about the future. They were going to catch and destroy the yellow-eyed bastard then perhaps Sam would go back to College, perhaps he wouldn't. But either way, Dean was going to be there with him. Either as a brother or as a lover: Sam would just have to wait and see whether Dean felt the same as he did.

But it was going to be okay.

Just as long as they were together.

Reluctantly, he got out of the car and cleared the way, hoping that he hadn't snagged the bottom of the car on anything that would damage it as he reversed. Dean also struggled out to go and relieve himself, stumbling a little as he did.

"Shit, just take it steady, Dean. We'll find somewhere to lay up and just let you rest for a while. No jobs for at least a week."

"That sounds good, Sammy." And his brother did sound really grateful.

Sam got behind the wheel and tried not to wince at the pain through his arm, but Dean had noticed it anyway. "You okay to drive?"

"I'm fine. You sure you don't want to just settle down in the back again? You really do look rough."

His brother grunted: "Been better," he admitted. "But then again, I've been a lot worse. I…erm…" His face suddenly flushed bright red. "Were you okay last night, Sammy? I know you were trying to look after me, and… nobody's ever worried about me like you do and it was amazing. But….were you okay? Was it alright for you? I mean, I won't break. And you can do anything you want to me: I'd…I don't want you to misunderstand me if I say I'd let you, because I'm not meaning it that you'd order me 'cos I know you wouldn't….but I'd like you to. I'd like to make you happy, keep you pleased with me….Fuck, I'm bad at this."

His mumbled words were cut off as Sam leant over, pulled him across the front seat to be closer to him and kissed him on the mouth. "I want you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"I love you. And , once you're better, we're going to spend some time exploring our….erm, hopes, erm…what I like in bed, what you like. Believe me: I've got lots of things that I want to try with you, Dean." He smirked mischievously as his brother's eyebrows rose and decided that there was still time for yet another last kiss. "But you're gonna tell me what you don't like. I mean it, Dean. If you want to make me happy and pleased with you, then you'll tell me what you're not happy with, okay?"

Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, Sam."

"I mean it. I'm not going to enjoy myself if I think you're not. That's important to me, you're important to me. You really are." He added with a third kiss that turned into a fourth, fifth and sixth as his brother snorted and flashed him a disbelieving glance.

Sam finally forced himself to get back to the subject of getting out of the area and went to start the engine .

"Oh, I forgot," he fished in his pocket. "There's your wallet. I know how attached you are to that old thing. And your jacket's in the back, you had dad's journal in it, didn't you?"

"Thanks Sammy."

He thought he must have misheard how emotional Dean had momentarily sounded just then, but his brother was turning his head away to stare out of the window. Carefully Sam reversed the Impala out of their hiding place with the intention of heading to anywhere that wasn't there. He drove steadily, trying not to give the impression to any of the numerous marked and unmarked official cars still around that they had been anywhere near the events of the previous day.

They ended up driving for a long time until they were well away from there, not even risking a rest for a proper meal. Sam was hungry enough and he at least managed to grab some snacks the previous day: he wondered if Dean had been even allowed to eat at all when he had been taken. Eventually though, they both felt safe enough to try and find somewhere, and Dean had felt better enough to insist on doing some of the driving.

"There's a Sunnyside." he pointed the sign out with pleasure and pulled in. "Get me extra onions."

Sam made a face: "Dude, I'm the one who's got to be in the car with you when you've had your extra onions!"

"And pie! Get me pie!"

Dean watched his brother enter the small diner and sat back to listen to the radio, frowning as it suddenly began to stutter and crackle. Then he looked back at the diner and realised there was no longer any movement in it.

Grabbing for his gun he struggled out of the Impala and hurried inside, but he was too late.

Everyone else was dead.

Sam had gone.

And the stench of sulphur hung in the air.