Sam collapsed on the motel bed, feeling about a hundred years old. Nathan had claimed first shower and disappeared while Sam was still trying to figure out when they hell they'd agreed to share a room in the first place. He'd been there that morning when Nathan had checked out from his motel, but somehow he'd missed the agreement that they'd share.

The little twit better cough up his half. Bad enough the motel had been out of single room so Sam had needed to get one with two beds. Now he had a guest who kept trying to feel him up. Money better be part of the deal.

And, oh, crap, that wasn't what he meant at all.

He sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Dean answered on the first ring. "Dude. Talk to me."

A laugh bubbled out of Sam's throat. "You sound desperate."

"Yeah, you think?"

"How's Rachel?"

Dean sighed. "Fine. I guess."

"Remembering anything?"

"Some. Stuff about her childhood. She's sounding more like herself. Less spacey. Well, you know what I mean."

He snorted. "Yeah, I know. Her brother's the same way. One minute, we're talking about trolls, the next thing, he's going off on the political structure in Bavaria."

"I never thought I'd miss her tangents about the history of clowns or the Dewey Decimal system or whatever."

He nodded. Traced his fingers over the pattern on the bedspread. Bit back a sigh and the frustration clearly welling in his brother's voice. "We'll get her back, Dean."

There was silence across the line.

This time he did sigh. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "So, we didn't find much at the cave. Well, we're pretty sure that Rachel got caught by the troll and was being held for a snack or something."

"Oh, that's pleasant. I can't wait to tell her that. How'd she escape?"

"Someone with about a size ten shoe got her out."

"What?"

"We found footprints. One set of male boot prints and then her bare foot. By a pyre where they burned the bodies of the kids that were killed."

Silence. Then, "Can you explain that one?"

He shook his head. "No. Well, the only thing Nathan and I can figure is maybe someone found Rachel stuck in the cave. And she insisted on burning the bodies."

"So she convinced some random hiker that it was okay to burn some dead kids? I mean, come on Sam, Rachel can be persuasive, but most men find a girl stuck in the woods, they're either gonna get her the hell out or…"

"She was fine, Dean. I mean, I'm sure she was fine. They burned bodies. And she can talk up a storm when she wants. And, who knows. Maybe there was a hunter in the area."

"Then where is he now?"

"Well, that's the thing. Maybe whoever helped her got possessed and then took her to the cabin." He rubbed his forehead. "We can't find any of her things. We were thinking of going to the cabin tomorrow, see if we can maybe trace the way they got there. Find anything."

"Bobby and Ellen went after Rachel was released from the hospital. They couldn't find anything. Even the clothes in the closet weren't hers, even though they were all her size. And no evidence of man, hunter or no."

Sam shrugged. "Nathan wants to see it."

He heard Dean let out an angry sigh. "You know, Nathan should spend his time doing something more productive, like talking to his sister. She's asked about him. She's been reading her old diaries, and he comes up a lot." There was a beat of silence, like Dean had just thought of something. "Her diary."

"What about it?"

"I just… it's probably with her stuff." He sounded defeated again. "I wonder if she had it with her. And what it says."

"We'll keep an eye out for it."

"She never leaves that thing. She carries it in her purse. Which is also missing." Another angry sigh. "Think I should buy her a new one?"

"Purse?"

"Diary, dumbass."

He grinned. Shrugged. "I'm sure she'd appreciate the gesture." Of course, she'd probably also like a new wedding right, but Sam didn't say that. And, really, knowing Rachel, she'd rather get the diary. At least at first. "So," he asked after a moment. "What's going on there?"

A strangled moan. "Her grandfather showed up."

"They psychic one?"

"Yup. He wants to root around in her head a little, see what he kind find. Hypnotize her or some shit."

"I take it you don't like the idea?" He lay back on the bed.

"I don't know. Seems a little fishy to me. I mean, her mind's been mucked up enough. Now someone's going to go inside it? And, what? Make her cluck like a chicken?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm sure he has some better ideas than party tricks, Dean. Besides, he's been doing this a long time. I'm sure he knows what he's doing."

The bathroom door opened. Steam billowed into the room, a half-naked Nathan emerging from it. A towel was wrapped around his waist, water beading over his chest, hair sticking up in all directions. Sam watched as Nathan went to his duffle and began rooting for clothing.

"Yeah," Dean was saying, "I know. I just don't like it. But that's pretty much my catch phrase these days. And, her grandfather doesn't really like me that much."

"Well, someone in her family was bound to dislike you. I mean, let's face it, Dean. She's… well, a sheltered Yale graduate and you're… a Winchester."

"Nothing wrong with being a Winchester." He said it halfheartedly, though, which Sam knew he would. He knew his brother, and knew that Dean had had these thoughts a zillion times.

Not that Sam necessarily agreed with them, but he knew the impulse. He'd had them himself, when he'd met Jess's parents. And when they'd met Rachel's for the first time. He kept waiting for one of the Adamses to say something against Dean and Rachel's relationship, and yet… "Her parents are freakishly accepting."

"They have to put up with me," Nathan said. He somehow shimmied into his boxers while keeping the towel on, then immediately allowed it to drop. "Plus, Dad's younger brother was disowned by his parents for falling for this guy, and then he got killed on a hunt, so Dad always says that all he wants is for us to be happy."

"That Nathan?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"Put me on speaker."

Sam pressed the speaker button and tossed it onto the bed.

"Call your sister, douche bag."

Sam rolled his eyes.

Nathan draped himself on the bed next to Sam. Feet at Sam's head, face near the phone. He propped his chin on his fists and rolled his eyes at the phone. "Is she okay?"

"She's been better. She'd be better if her brother would talk to her."

He sighed. "I know. I'm just… not ready yet."

"You're an asshole."

Nathan lowered his face to the comforter. Nodded. Voice muffled, he whispered, "I know."

Silence.

Finally, Sam sat up. "Okay, well, Dean, we need to get dinner. Call us tomorrow after her grandfather does whatever he's going to do?"

"Yeah, I will."

"Give a hug from me."

A snort. "You are such a girl." The line went dead.

Sam reached over and flipped the phone shut. Lay back on the bed. For a long time, he and Nathan just lay there like that, listening to each other breath and thinking their own thoughts.

Not that Sam knew what to think. None of this made any sense. He and Nathan had looked for missing persons reports for the town and the surrounding towns going back a month. But there'd been nothing. So, either whomever had gotten Rachel out of the cave hadn't been declared missing, didn't come from around here, or…

Or what? What were they missing?

Nathan sighed and turned his head. "Wanna fool around?"

"What?"

"To take our minds off this." He crawled around until his head was facing the same way as Sam's. Scooted up next to him, then, very suddenly, jumped on top of Sam. "Come on." He brought their faces so close together, Sam could practically count every little black fleck inside the chocolate brown of his eyes. "It'd give us something to do."

His heart pounded and it was suddenly a million degrees in the room. Feeling awkward, he put his hands on Nathan's still damp shoulders, pushing, feeling his warmth. Smelling the clean, fresh scent of his soap and shampoo and…

"I'm not gay."

Nathan rolled his eyes and climbed off Sam. "Neither am I."

"I'm not bi."

He glanced down at Sam's crotch, then back up. "You sure about that?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "You were wiggling on top of me. It's just the body's response to…"

"Uh-huh. You keep blushing around me."

"You keep embarrassing me."

And then Nathan was back in his face. This time, his mouth hovered inches away from Sam's own. Warm, minty breath brushed over Sam's face and… and a current sort of hung between them.

And Sam couldn't breathe. His heart stuttered in his chest and he couldn't look away from Nathan's long, dark lashes, lowered over his eyes as they slowly swept over Sam's body.

And then they were locked on Sam's eyes. "I know hunters can be kind of conservative and stuff, but the ones I've meant have also had a kind of… carpe diem sort of attitude towards life. Maybe you should try it some time."

"Maybe I don't want to turn into a… a person in every port type of guy." He sounded breathless even to his own ears.

Nathan's eyebrow quirked. "Not saying you should. Just, maybe, step outside your comfort zone sometime. Try a new way of thinking. You're the rebel in the family. Rebel a little."

And he lowered his mouth closer, so Sam couldn't help but close his eyes, every muscle tensed, waiting…

"Maybe you're not bi," Nathan whispered against his mouth, their lips just ghosting against each other. "Or maybe you're just too afraid to open yourself because of what you've lost instead of thinking about what you might find."

There was just the slightest hint of pressure against Sam's mouth, and then…

The bed shifted. Lightened.

Sam lay there, heart still thudding, muscles still tensed. Still waiting for… for something.

"I'm gonna order a pizza." Nathan's voice came from across the room. "Any toppings you want?"

He cleared his throat. Forced his eyes open. "Um. Don't care. Whatever." His voice cracked on the last syllable.

Nathan flashed him a smile. "Hope you didn't have your heart set on pineapple. It doesn't belong on pizza."

"Yeah. I know. I live with Rachel. I've heard the fifteen minute lecture. Multiple times." Still feeling shaky and off balanced, Sam slid himself off the bed. He managed to make it to the bathroom before he collapsed against the door.

"Oh," he swore, exhaling hard. "iFuck/i."