Bobby led them up the mountain at a leisurely pace, and Dean felt his tension ease a little more with the completion of each curve. He was in his baby, his brother snoring softly beside him, window down with the scent of dew and pine needles wafting in, looking at an entire week of pretending that evil didn't exist in the world. What could be better?

The contrary voice that he hated so much tried to provide some answers to that rhetoric, but he mentally bludgeoned it into silence.

They topped a rise, looking down on a tree-studded valley, and Dean brought the Impala to a halt.

Clouds caught in the branches like alcohol-soaked cotton in a three-day growth of beard. The rising sun painted the top edge in water-colors of pink and lavender and gold, and the beauty of the new day carried so much promise that it brought tears to Dean's eyes.

Without removing his gaze from the wonder before him, Dean reached over and patted his brother's chest. "Sam."

The younger man startled awake, sitting up, rubbing his eyes. "Are we there?" And then he looked to where his brother was pointing.

The beauty momentarily paralyzed him, and he half sat, half reclined, right hand curled near his face, mouth open in a wide 'o'.

"Dean," he finally breathed. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah." His brother's voice was gruff, and Sam glanced at him, noting the pink and gold reflecting in the line of moisture on his brother's cheek.

"Dean?" It was a rare moment of vulnerability from his always-stoic older brother, and Sam would never let him suffer that alone.

The moment was lost when John rapped on Sam's window, startling them both.

Sam rolled his window down, answering their father's inquiring look with a sweeping gesture at the vista spread out before them. "Sorry, Dad. We just had to stop for a minute."

John chuckled. "Gorgeous, isn't it?" He squatted, leaning a shoulder against the door. "Good reminder of…' his voice trailed off, and he deliberately did not look at either of his sons.

The rumble of an engine heralded the approach of Bobby's old pick up as he backed down the winding road. The older man's face could be seen in the side mirror, watching them, and he broke into a smile as he parked.

He stepped out, then came to lean against Dean's door. "Kinda restores your soul, don't it, boy?" he queried gently, having caught Dean's expression.

Dean licked his lips, and his swallow was embarrassingly audible to all present. "Yeah. Never seen anything quite like it before," and he knew the lame excuse would be accepted, because that's the way they were. Tearing up because you've been confronted with unexpected beauty was still manly. Tearing up because you've just realized that maybe, just maybe, you're going to be okay, you're going to survive gang rape and near death experiences and your brother leaving and your whole reason for being changing - that was too much like a chick-flick moment.

You might be shattered, your whole everything may go dark and silent, but the world will keeping turning and what you become tomorrow or the next day, it may be - his gaze swept the scene before him one more time, and he breathed in Bobby's engine oil scent and Sam's deodorant and the crisp, unpolluted air - awesome.

Maybe.

But that wasn't something he could say, or that any of them - except maybe Sam - would be able to hear.

He wiped his eyes with a rough fist. "We should prob'ly get goin', huh? I bet this place serves one helluva breakfast."

Bobby patted him on the arm, then squeezed gently, letting the boy know that he understood all the things that went unsaid.


The caravan continued, weaving past the entrance to some fancy resort - "Rich chics, Sammy! Bored and horny, guaranteed!" - before turning onto a barely noticeable track through densely packed pines.

They pulled to a stop beside an enormous log cabin.

"Whaddaya think? This good enough to call 'home' for the next week?" Bobby's beard split in a wide grin.

"Seriously?" The surprised pitch of Sam's voice made him sound younger than he was. "It's - "

"Who else is stayin'?" Dean interrupted. Any of them female?

"It's just us," Bobby clarified. Catching Dean's look of disappointment, he added, "but there's four-wheelers in the shed and we can go down to the main resort whenever we like."

Dean's smile rivaled the sunrise, and John glowered at him. "You are expected to behave like a gentleman and not call undue attention to yourself, Dean."

The harsh tone didn't touch him. "Yes, sir. Always." He winked at Sam, then went around to pop the trunk and grab his duffle. "Let's get this party started, boys!"

John shook his head, hiding a smile, but Bobby chuckled and Sam let out a whoop. "Our first vacation!" He clapped Dean on the shoulder, earning a grin from his older brother.

"It'll be epic, Sam. I guaran-damn-tee it."


"The lodge is fully equipped," Bobby explained as he led them around. "Full kitchen, each bedroom with its own bath, pool table, couple arcade games, foosball. Got a jacuzzi on the porch. Everything's warded up the yin-yang, here and at the resort. They got it cleared of supernatural critters all through the areas that tourists like to go, and about a mile radius around this cabin." He paused, failing to hide a smirk. "Once we get some groceries, should be no reason to leave here. Ought to be able to get a nice, big dose of family bonding time in over the next week."

Dean looked appalled at the suggestion, and Sam laughed. "Gee, Bobby, that sounds awesome! We can all go for a hike first thing in the morning, catch those sunrises, come back and cook breakfast together, maybe play a little foosball -"

"Stop!" Dean held up a hand. "Know what my goal is this week, Sammy?"

"Getting laid?" his younger brother drawled, somehow managing to convey both boredom and irritation in those three syllables.

Dean shrugged. "Well, that's my goal every week. No, my goal this week is to get you laid, Saint Samantha."

That was the start of their first wrestling match of the holiday.


They took the Impala into Gatlinburg to stock up on supplies and get some breakfast.

Dean was his most charming with every female he encountered, eye contact and a seductive smile freely given to any woman who appeared to be of legal age.

Sam noted the surprised looks and pleased blushes and rolled his eyes. "Dude," he hissed at one point as the two passed a matronly woman whose reaction to Dean's interest was to drop the cantaloupe she'd been inspecting, "could you tone it down a little? You're going to start a riot!"

"Can't help it, Sam. It's a brand new day, and the possibilities are endless!"

"Yeah, but she's somebody's mother. Show some respect!"

Dean stopped to give his brother a surprised look. "How was that disrespectful, dude? I just smiled!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Whatever."

"Seriously, I wanna know: how was that anything but nice?" Irritation edged his voice.

"Did you see how flustered she got? Clearly there was more in your 'smile' -" he punctuated the word with air quotes - "than a simple 'hello'."

Dean rolled his eyes, examining a wrapped head of lettuce with a look of distaste before dropping it in the cart. "Older women have experience. And all those soft curves…." He trailed off, eyes losing focus, and Sam snorted.

"That's exactly what I mean. Perv."

Dean shook his head, still smiling at some memory that he was tempted to torture Sam with. "Still not disrespectful, Sam. In fact, it's the exact opposite: I respect the skills she's worked so hard to learn."

Sam sniffed a bundle of fresh spinach, nodded to himself, then pulled a thin produce bag from a reel. "Skills that you assume she's earned," he corrected.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Trust me Sam: she has them. I can tell."

Sam glanced around at the mostly female shoppers populating the produce section. "Whatever," he conceded in a whisper. "Let's just finish this and go before a group of them forces you into a supply closet or something."

A dirty living room, furniture replaced with mattresses

The image was there and gone, leaving Dean breathless and cold, heart thudding in his chest.

"Yeah." He flicked a glance at his brother. "Wanna get back and kick your ass at Donkey Kong, anyway."

Sam rolled his eyes even as he chuckled, relieved to turn the conversation to something that wouldn't get them kicked out of the grocery store if others overheard. "As if!"

If he noticed that Dean kept his eyes down for the remainder of the trip, not even acknowledging the young cashier who tried so hard to capture his attention, Sam chose not to mention it.


Sam was looking forward to the Donkey Kong tournament on the arcade game in their lodge, but Dean begged off, reminding Sam that he'd been driving all night while his princess of a brother snored in the seat next to him.

Sam was just as happy to take a book out onto the wrap-around deck, settling into one of the lounges with a contented sigh. After all, he had an entire week to humiliate his brother with his unrivaled arcade skills.


hands, so many hands -

"You're here to breed. He wants Winchester children" -

straps at his wrists, elbows, ankles, knees, and waist -

silk was looped around both of the girl's wrists, arms bound to a cast iron ring in the headboard and coarse hemp secured each ankle to a ring on the pillars at the foot of the bed, leaving her spread wide -

"Please...please." But he didn't even know what he was pleading for, only that his entire body was aching with need, straining to reach her -

"Please, Dean. Please! You're killing me here!" -

suddenly his hospital gown was gone, and his body was tight, coated with a thin sheen of sweat, eyes squeezed tightly closed, braced for some sort of punishment -

what the fuck? Dean slowly lowered himself to one knee, forearm pressed to his side and abdomen. Jesus, that hurts -

"Someone else is going to go through this because you're too stubborn or stupid -"

the restraints had turned to silken ties, the table to a firm mattress covered in satin sheets -

she was lowering herself onto him, and she was hot - he groaned - so wet, and she began to move, and he couldn't think, it felt so good, each stroke sending a jolt of electric pleasure down his legs to rebound at his curled toes before shooting back up through his torso to fuzz his brain -

someone is devouring his cock, soft-moist-sucking warmth, and his back arches as he groans, and it shouldn't feel so good, he can't remember why but it shouldn't -

a part of Dean was distantly aware that his father was whipping him with the buckle-end of his belt, that the metal was tearing his flesh, and the warm liquid he felt on his skin could only be blood -

Dean was stretched, every muscle taught, sweat once again sheeting his skin -

the scream that started behind Dean's teeth erupted in a strangled shout, ending abruptly as his back arched and his heels began drumming on the table -

Dean groped blindly for his dad's collar, pulling himself across the few inches that separated them to bury his face in the warm comfort of his father's neck, and sobbed until there was nothing left -

he mumbles "No," or he thinks he does, but Jeff is there, and he sounds paternal -

"You think a blow job is worth more than your brother's life?"

Dean jerked into a seated position, hands fisted in his blankets. He was gasping, covered in sweat, the beat of his heart a painful stricture in his chest.

Frantic eyes darted around the room as his head swam, visceral memories of blood and agony and naked bodies and intense pleasure and terror all vying for dominance while his conscious mind sought to assert itself, to put a halt to the nightmare and bring Dean back to reality.

Lodge. Family vacation. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes, focusing on his breathing. Safe. Sam's safe, Dad's safe, Bobby's safe. You're safe. Everyone is safe .

He eased back onto the pillows, one arm draping over his eyes while the other pushed the blankets down to his waist. He pulled the ever-present t-shirt up, baring his moist abdomen to the cool air.

Nightmares weren't new to the young, yet seasoned hunter.

After a time he sat up, swinging his legs to the floor. Not gonna waste this whole day on bad dreams.

He headed to the shower, determined to chase down that pink and gold sunrise and make it his own.