"So how long have you been banging the angel?" Dean asked.

They were in the driveway of the house that belonged to Lamechiel's vessel. The hood of the Impala was up and Dean was leaned over the engine, hands greasy. The engine was running because Dean knew there was something wrong with her.

Sam shot a glare at him and Dean said, "Oh come on. Don't give me the bitch face. It's kind of obvious."

"I am not…. Banging her," Sam said sourly.

"Oh sorry," Dean went on, smirking a little, "How long have you two been intimate?"

He ducked his head back under the hood of the Impala to avoid the death ray in Sam's eyes. At the moment Dean had two problems – the sluggish response he was getting from the Impala and the way his brother was still a little distant and shut down. One problem was pretty easy because Dean's mechanical intuition were telling him what the Impala's issue most likely was – a leak in the vacuum system. Sam's issue was guilt and fear that Dean still didn't trust him; and that was going to take a little more work to fix.

Dean took the can of starter fluid and sprayed a nice even line of it down the hose lines until he heard the Impala's motor come off it idle. Just as he thought it was a leak in one of the hoses. Once he narrowed that down, it didn't take long to find the guilty hose.

"Ah, Baby," he said, "Why you gotta do this to me? Don't I take good care of you?"

The hose wasn't that old since he'd replaced the entire engine after the accident 4 years ago. But it was possible that it had been defective; or it had just given up considering the miles and speeds Dean asked from the Impala on a daily basis. But there was a clear split in it when Dean pressed on it and it wasn't going to take long for it to become a tear, an open wound that would take his beloved Baby off the road.

He stood up and walked around to the open driver's door and reached in to turn the key, killing the engine.

When he stood back up Sam was still on the other side of the car, glaring at him.

"What?" Dean asked, spreading his hands in a gesture of innocence. "How well do I know you? It's your body language. You and the angel are pretty handsy all of a sudden. She sat down in your lap like she'd been there before. So, yeah. It's just obvious; and I don't blame you. She's hot. I'd do her too if I thought she'd go for it. But I get the feeling she'd put me into a concrete wall permanently if I even looked at her the wrong way-"

"Stoptalking," Sam said. His hands had balled into fists.

Dean did know his brother, and very well. There were two ways to break him out of a funk. One was to get him drunk. Drunk Sam was generally a really happy guy. Drunk Sam turned into a big, playful, huggy Great Dane puppy. He would also start talking, sometimes forgetting to be happy long enough to cry and get seriously maudlin. But they could usually work out whatever was eating at Sam when his defenses had been knocked out of the park by a hard hit of alcohol. The thing was, it took a considerable amount of alcohol to even put a dent in his brother's gigantic frame. Beer usually had little to no effect and Sam knew his limits. He'd usually stop way before he was feeling even the slightest buzz. Also, at the moment, Dean didn't have time for a long night at a bar trying to get Sammy drunk.

So Dean had defaulted to plan B – get Sammy mad enough to take a swing at him. The adrenaline rush was the same and the chance to beat Dean up was always cathartic for Sam – especially if it was actually himself that Sam wanted to lay into.

The flaws in that plan were that Sam was preternaturally strong and it hurt like hell to get punched by him. It also didn't always work. Sometimes it just made Sam madder at Dean and he'd retreat farther behind the Great Wall of Silence.

Dean was kind of glad he'd managed to keep the Impala between them.

"So, you're going to hit me now because I think your guardian angel is hot?" Dean asked softly. "Because I got news for you – every guy who looks at her thinks she's hot. So you can either go around beating up a lot of guys or just relax and remember it's your lap she's sitting in."

For a single instance the ice-cold anger continued and then Dean watched it begin to thaw. Sam turned his head and looked, unfocused, into the distance, not quite willing to give up the fight just yet.

"Look, Sam," Dean went on, coming back around the check the damaged hose, keeping his tone light. "With everything that's going on, if you've got something – someone - to help you get through the night and keep that evil bastard out of your head, then I say good for you. But lying to each other has to stop. So from now on, I'm going to call you on your bullshit."

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. "Who I may or may not be ….sleeping with isn't really any of your business. Is it?"

As far as Dean was concerned everything about Sammy was his business. He'd been making sure the kid ate, slept, bathed and had something that looked like recreation since before Sam had turned a year old. But he could see how Sammy might not see it exactly the same way.

They looked at each for several long moments – Dean bent over the Impala's engine, elbows resting on the metal; Sam standing with his feet and shoulders braced. But they were prevented from saying another word to each other when Raeth and Castiel appeared. Cas was almost on top of Dean. Raeth was right next to Sam.

"Dammit, Cas," Dean said. He had stood up and spun around on instinct. His hand had automatically gone for the gun that wasn't actually in his belt.

"What?" Cas asked, genuinely confused.

"Don't sneak up on a hunter," Dean advised.

Raeth in the meantime had taken a step closer to Sam, who reached for her hand and wrapped his around it.

"What's wrong with the car?" Castiel asked.

"Busted hose," Dean answered, "Or it will be soon. Does Lamechiel's vessel have a ride I can borrow? I need to get to an auto parts store."

"What's so important about a hose?" Cas peered into the baffling complication that was the combustion engine, trying to see the problem.

"Car won't run without it," Dean answered. The Impala was a miracle of engineering as far as Dean was concerned. But the truth was the whole damned gleaming mass of metal, chrome and glass ran on air.

"Which one is it?"

Dean pointed without really looking. It was always a little painful to see Baby damaged.

"I do not see anything wrong with it."

Sighing Dean shouldered him aside and said,

"Fuck, Cas, it's right-. What the hell? It was right there."

The offensive hose was now in pristine condition, no signs of wear or splits at all. It was even clean. Dean didn't really let anyone but Bobby or Sam touch the Impala, and even then rarely. But Cas hadn't really touched it, not physically at least.

"You fixed the car?" He said, stating the obvious.

"Yes," Cas answered, gruff as usual. "But if you'd like I can return it to its former condition and you can waste your time driving to a store and repairing it yourself."

His snarky humor got a short but sincere bark of laughter burst out of Sam. Glancing at him, Dean got the first hint that maybe things were going to go back to normal; normal for them anyway.

"Naw," he said, releasing the support on the hood and closing it with a gentle thump.

"So is that why you came out here?" Dean asked, "To play car mechanic?"

"No, "Raeth said, "We have news to share."

Both brothers came alert, tensed like sleeping lions who had suddenly been alerted to potential prey.

"You found Belial?" Sam guessed.

"No, but we found another fallen angel," she went on, "Valac. If we can trap him he'll tell us where Belial is."

"Why would he do that?" Dean demanded.

"It is part of his nature. Trapped in a triangle of certain symbols and words, he will be compelled to tell the truth and reveal secrets," Castiel explained.

"Trapped in a triangle?" Sam repeated, instantly intrigued by a new thing to learn, a new hunting tool.

"Yes," Raeth said, "The three of us are going after him. We wanted to offer you the chance to come along."

Dean and Sam shared a long communicative look. They both knew what the blood of a demon could do to Sam, and how addictive he found it. Neither of them knew what the blood of demon enhanced with angel juice would do or whether Sam would be able to resist it.

But Dean knew that Sam needed to be trusted; and he would be going with three angels, one of whom was sworn to protect Sam.

And Sam needed to be trusted right now. He needed to know his brother trusted him.

So Dean shrugged and said, "Sounds like you got it covered. I'll stay here and work on the car some more."

Surprise flared in Sam's eyes and it hurt Dean for a moment, how much Sam wanted to know that Dean trusted him.

"Yeah," Dean said, trying to sound casual, as if the idea of Sam being exposed to any kind of angel-enhanced demon blood wasn't even an issue. "Go ahead. Take notes."

Relief and a sincere emotion that Dean recognized misted Sam's eyes for a moment. It was devotion as deep and relentless as a storm gray ocean. Dean's throat closed up and he had to clear it before saying, "Have fun."

"Yeah," Sam said, sounding equally choked. He glanced down at the battered canvas sneakers on his feet. "I need to change my shoes."

He turned away and Raeth went with him back to the house. Cas lingered but then turned away also. Before he could get too much farther Dean said,

"Hey, Cas?"

"Yes?"

"Watch out for him. Okay?"

Cas held Dean's eyes for a moment. Handing over Sam was a sacred trust for Dean, something he never did lightly. Cas knew that, so he considered it seriously before nodding and walking away.

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