AN: Would I dump gratuitous schmoop all over you before our lovely boys even get to the house? Yes. Yes I would.

* * *

Dean knew he could have had Sam spell him for driving for a while again. Sam had driven a lot of the morning, and had offered more than once to take over again. Dean also knew he'd be plenty justified finding a place to stop. Nothing said they had to be in Hampton tonight. The disappearances didn't happen often – sometimes there was a year or more in between, which was probably why no hunters had checked it out before. So the chances of someone else going missing so soon were miniscule. Which were also the chances that the poor woman was still alive after four or five days.

But it was often here, behind the wheel, Sam in the passenger seat, where Dean found his peace. After it was full dark and Sam had yawned twice, Dean had popped in an Aerosmith tape, ignoring Sam's look of confusion. Sam was nodding before they were halfway through Angel and dead to the world by the end of Jamie's Got a Gun. Sam wasn't sleeping much, and never a full night without nightmares. He was embarrassed about it (which Dean thought was asinine), and didn't want to talk about it, which bothered Dean because it seriously deviated from what had been the Sammy norm for so long. From the moment he could form sentences, Sam told Dean everything. Showed Dean everything, from a cool looking acorn he found to the picture he'd colored to report cards with all A's.

It was very different now. Sometimes it felt like Sammy had faded into this stretched out stranger who spoke a different language, and he didn't mean Latin.

It didn't always feel like that. When they were on the hunt, so much was instinctive. When Sam said you do x and I'll do y it was usually what Dean was already thinking. And when they disagreed about what they should do, typically the right answer was somewhere in the middle. There was trust and ease and a sense that they were doing something good. Something important. The boring parts of a hunt were less boring with Sam there. The hard parts were easier. The mystery stains in an ugly motel room didn't matter when his brother was in the next bed. Even the fights about Dad felt familiar.

Sam not giving in when Dean put his foot down was not familiar. Sam was a man now, more private, more reserved, and no less stubborn. He demanded to be a full partner, and yes, he deserved to be. And he sometimes resented Dean stepping in to protect him, not seeming to understand that it didn't matter how big or old or smart Sam was, if Dean stopped doing that, he'd stop being Dean.

It wasn't a respect thing. For all Dean gave him shit about being slow or out of shape or out of practice, Sam really wasn't any of those things. He'd slipped back into the hunting groove almost like he'd never left. And he was significantly larger and more muscular than when he'd left for Stanford. He hadn't lost his instincts or his nose for research. He was a tough mother, too. Not long before, Sam had gone down with a knife wound in his thigh, and the offending ghoul had rounded on Dean, wrongly figuring Sam was down for the count. Seeing the ghoul head for Dean's unprotected back (as Dean fought its buddy), Sam had lurched to his feet with a roar that frozen Dean and both ghouls. And he'd swung a massive tree branch so hard he'd all but taken the ghoul's head off. Even after Dean blew the head off ghoul number two, he couldn't stop staring, because Sam had looked and sounded so much like Dad.

Dean had been proud. And when he heaped on the praise in the light of the burning bodies, Sam had reverted to a stuttering, embarrassed teenager, basking in big brother's approval.

Dean looked over his brother now, taking the chance to really study him. Sam had slumped low in the seat, one hand pillowing his cheek against the door. His lips were barely open, face young in its relaxation. He didn't look like Sam Winchester, Fearless Hunter, 6'4" and 22 years old. He looked like Sammy. Medium sized Sammy, sacked out with his latest book on his lap. Little Sammy, dozing off right in the middle of one of his never-ending questions. Or even tiny Sammy curled in Dean's lap with Bearly Bear dangling from his fingers.

Dean smiled. He missed the little squirt, but maybe that kid wasn't completely gone.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Dean flicked a French fry at his brother who was studying some stupid papers he'd copied at the library and very much not eating. He grinned to see the fry bounce off Sam's forehead and was slightly impressed that the kid caught it before it hit the table. His grin widened at the face Sam threw his way. Earning himself a patented Sam Winchester bitchface always made his day. Though, that wasn't been his only motivation right now.

"Food's here, egghead. Less reading, more eating." He had no idea how Sam kept that huge body moving on how little he ate, much less putting on muscle the way he was.

Sam frowned down at the fat sandwich and onion rings he hadn't even noticed. "What did you order me? Why not a salad?"

Dean had purposefully called the waitress over while Sam was in the bathroom because he was convinced that man could not live on salad alone. He mentally crossed his fingers that he'd chosen well and Sam would actually eat it. "Well, I saw this on the menu and it reminded me of that summer you were hungry if you didn't eat every hour and Pastor Jim introduced us to the wonder that is a BLT."

A reminiscent smile drifted across Sam's face and Dean sadly realized just how rare that smile was since Jessica had died. But he was thrilled to see it there now, especially when Sam picked up the sandwich enthusiastically. "I bet I haven't had a BLT since then!"

Things got even better when Sam devoured the entire oversized sandwich and a couple of the onion rings before not so subtly pushing his plate toward Dean, who quickly took him up on the silent offer. Full and content, they went over their findings. They'd separated for the day, Dean talking to the families of the missing and Sam spending the day at the library looking for information on the land.

Dean hadn't learned much, but he was pretty sure that everyone had the house in common. Rumors were starting about a serial killer.

Sam had some interesting things to report, however. "The entire area was basically skipped on land surveys as far back as the records go, and nobody seems to think that's weird. Every so often, somebody requests a survey, but somehow they just drop it after a while."

"Or they disappear?" Dean guessed, using his teeth to pull a long string of onion out of an onion ring. He slurped it into his mouth and smiled, daring Sam to complain. Sam ignored him and nodded.

"Right. Now I got lucky with the librarian – "

"Wait, right inside the library? You dog!"

"Shut up. That's not what I meant. He – "

"I don't judge. I'm just glad you're getting some."

"Dean!" Sam took a long, slow breath and his lips moved like he was praying for patience. Seeing Dean unrepentant, he gave up and continued. "It's lucky that he happens to be local historian. He copied a bunch of information about local legends for me. I haven't read them yet because somebody interrupted me."

"Trading sexual favors for special treatment?" Dean pretended to ponder that as he loudly slurped the last of his Coke. "I can respect that."

Sam groaned and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. "You okay, hon?" asked their matronly waitress, catching the sound. Sam blushed lightly and gave her a rueful smile.

"I'm fine, thank you. Just a headache that I can't get away from cuz he's got the keys." He shot a meaningful look toward Dean, who endeavored to look innocent.

The waitress chuckled knowingly. "I see. I have four older brothers." She very deliberately set the check down next to Dean's elbow.

Sam's smile widened at her commiseration. "My condolences."

Mr. Librarian's papers must have been interesting, because Sam was already reading them in the car by the time Dean was finished paying for their meal. He didn't even look up as Dean got in, making Dean snort in amusement. Sam had probably read thousands of books in the Impala over the years, quickly learning to carry a flashlight because Dean would filch the tomes when he deemed the light was too low. Geek never outgrew some things, he thought fondly.

Just before they reached their motel, Sam's body language abruptly changed. "Find something?" Dean asked, accidentally letting his fondness seep into his voice. Sam didn't seem to notice.

"Think so, maybe," he mumbled, voice distant. "Gimme a couple…" He got out of the car and walked into he room without ever lifting his head and sadly didn't trip or run into anything. Dean wondered in passing if Sam had ever walked around Stanford while reading. That kind of distraction drove Dad crazy, but for Dean it was just one piece of what made Sam, Sam.

They weren't in the burnt orange room more than 10 minutes before Sam waved a hand vaguely in Dean's direction. "So get this – " he started as if they'd been in the middle of a conversation. "There were enough suspicious events way back in the 1690's that in 1699 the colonists requested an official inquiry about the possibility of witches. The church turned them down because of the danger and expense of having their people cross the ocean."

"What made them think witches?" Dean asked with distaste. He hated witches.

Sam hummed in thought, another habit he'd had forever. "Reports vary, probably because it's been so long. But some claimed that people were dropping dead in the street, spitting up blood. Others said there was a girl – or maybe a guy – who could tame or talk to any animal. And of course, some claimed there was a house and entire family that disappeared. There's no way to tell if it's the house though."

"Sounds hex-y and witchy to me," mused Dean aloud. "Nothing more recent than 300 plus years ago?"

"Not that I've found so far," shrugged Sam. "As for the disappearing people – who knows? There are an awful lot of supernatural things that grab people. The house is the only thing that ties into anything specific that I've found."

Dean thought about Sarah Dwyer's mother, who had cried through the entire interview. Dean had claimed he was a private investigator hired by the family of another missing person, and the frail, elderly woman had grabbed Dean's hand and begged him to bring her daughter back home. "We need to check out the house," he decided. "Tonight."

Sam looked a little surprised. "We should see what else we can learn first, Dean. The house may not be anything but one of those small town stories."

"Sarah Dwyer could still be alive," answered Dean, a little tersely. He could still feel those shaking hands holding his. "We can take two guns each and have loads of rock salt, consecrated iron, silver, and regular old lead. Between that and our blades, we can handle pretty much anything."

Sam didn't look convinced. At all. But he looked more uncertain than defiant, and Dean could work with uncertain.

"We'll watch each other's backs," he promised. "I just promised the lady's mom I'd do everything I could, and my spidey senses are telling me the house is the place to start looking."

"Mine too," admitted Sam. He sighed. "I just hate going in unprepared."

"Part of the job, dude," Dean replied, not unsympathetically. "You can research until dark, see if you find anything else. The nice part is it's far enough outside of town that we don't have to wait until o dark thirty to go out there."

Dean grinned confidently. "Piece of cake."

* * *

printandpolish: Possibly! Stay tuned. hehe

muffinroo: Thank you! I adore the brother banter too. You are very sweet!

Shazza19: Yes, Dean was very insistent. lol I'm glad you're reading!

Stormy: You are far too kind! *blushes* I write because I love it and making friends from all over is the best side benefit! I promise you'll find out soon exactly what the house does.

Iowa Kat: You're welcome. I heart Bobby. I personally would run from a house that eats people, but that's because I'm a wuss, unlike the Winchester bros. :-)

sfaulkenberry: Your thoughts intrigue me...hmmm... It's so sweet of you to say you're excited to see another story from me. I feel all warm and squishy now! And you go ahead and scold Dean...I'm scared of him! lol