Nathan stood leaning against the door to the bathroom as he brushed his teeth, looking into the motel room at Sam. He'd been watching Sam for quite a few minutes now, and the other man hadn't said a word. He didn't seem to notice, as he was engrossed in Nathan's spell book, turning the pages slowly.

The lust spell would be gone by morning. In fact, Nathan was pretty sure it was gone now, but he didn't want his sister to go into that cabin at night. Not that it mattered, not really. The house were Rachel had been raped was the house Rachel had been raped, day or night. He really didn't think that the ordeal had been confined to one particular time, and he really didn't think that there was any danger going there anymore.

He just didn't want to be there at night. The place gave him the creeps. It was cozy and well decorated. Comfortable. Romantic, even.

It made him feel ill.

Luckily, the rest seemed to feel the same. They'd let Nathan set the cleansing spell, done a half-hearted sweep of the outside for clues, then gone to check into the nearest hotel. Rachel and Dean were next door, leaving Nathan and Sam alone. He'd wanted to get a room of his own, or sleep in the car or something. After what happened today, he just didn't think it was right to stay in the same room as Sam.

And yet, here he was. One room. Two beds. And Sam was just sitting there, acting like nothing had ever happened.

Nathan couldn't forget, though. The way Sam's mouth had felt on his. Or his hands on Nathan's body, stroking his hair. How they hadn't been able to stop kissing. Couldn't keep their hands off each other.

It'd been wonderful. And horrible. Being out of control like that, it'd been terrifying. He'd never done anything stronger than pot and almost never drank. But being in that room had been like being high and drunk and out of his mind all at once.

He had no idea how he'd managed to summon the strength to push Sam away.

"You going to stand there all night?" Sam asked. He glanced over at Nathan and grinned. "You look like a rabid dog."

Nathan blushed and he ducked back into the bathroom. Sure enough, there was foam dripping down his chin, making him look like an idiot.

He quickly rinsed out his mouth. Swished some mouth wash through it, then wiped the last of the foam away. Then, he took a deep breath and went back into the bedroom.

"This is interesting stuff," Sam said, shutting the book. "It's lucky you had it."

Nathan shrugged a shoulder. "We all have our little collections, right? I have my magic books, Rachel has her computer program, and you and Dean have your dad's journal." He climbed onto his bed and crossed his legs under him. "If I hadn't had the right spell, there are always people to call."

"Yeah, but this saves us time." Sam lay out and propped his head on his fist. "I wouldn't have expected you to get all freaked out about what happened this morning."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not flirting with me. Haven't since this morning. It's like you're a completely different person."

He cleared his throat. "I, uh. I just didn't think it was appropriate. Besides, you're straight and not interested, so it's time to give up, right?" He gave Sam what he hoped was a gracious smile.

Sam just looked at him with a steady gaze. "You weren't flirting because you thought you actually stood a chance with me. Maybe you hoped, but that's not why you did it. You're like Dean. Flirting is like breathing to you."

Nathan could feel himself blushing. He hadn't thought that Sam would be quite so perceptive. Most men were so freaked out by another man flirting with them, they either reacted with fists or did their best to ignore it. Nathan figured Sam fell into the second category; he hadn't been expecting him to actually think about it.

"Maybe," he finally conceded. "But it feels weird now. It went too far."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, but…"

"It wasn't your fault, Nathan. In fact, you were the stronger one. You stopped it. I would have kept going if you hadn't pulled away."

He cleared his throat again and rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't know what to say.

Sam sat up, swinging his long legs over the edge of his bed. Leaned forward. "Look, Nathan. I always thought that kissing another guy would be gross. But it wasn't. It actually wasn't any different than kissing a girl, except you have stubble and don't taste like lipstick. Other than that, it was the same. It was nice. I'm not saying I'm gay, or even that I'm interested. I'm just not freaked out. Or grossed out. I'm fine." He frowned, forehead furrowing. "This demon keeps messing around with my family, trying to get us to dance to its tune. If you stop being who you are because it got to you, then it wins."

"You believe that load of crap?" Nathan asked with a lopsided smile.

Sam returned it. "Yeah, I do. It sounds cheesy, but it's true."

He nodded, turning Sam's words over in his head. Then he rose, crowded into Sam's space. "Wasn't gross, huh?"

Sam looked up at him. Rolled his eyes. "Nathan."

Nathan leaned down and pressed a light kiss against Sam's mouth. "A straight guy would think it was, even under the influence of a lust spell. After it faded away, they'd be disgusted."

"Maybe I'm enlightened."

Nathan kissed him again. "Maybe you're bent." This time the kiss was longer, lingering. Closed-mouth, but their lips clung and held on.

Sam pulled away first. "I'm going to bed."

"That an invitation?"

"Good-night, Nathan." He turned off the light and crawled under the covers.

Nathan watched him a moment, then went back into the bathroom. He needed a cold shower.


Rachel leans against the railing of the porch and gazes out into the darkness. Her feet are bare and she curls her toes against the wood. She feels relaxed. Almost happy, in a quiet kind of way. She's been here nearly two weeks and has moved beyond anger and denial to acceptance. It's been her only choice, after all; she's tried everything else.

A strong pair of arms wraps around her waist and pulls her into a warm, familiar body. Rachel leans back against it, allowing her head to loll against his chest. She doesn't say anything, just continues listen to the chirping of the crickets and whistling of the breeze.

"Hello, Princess."

The voice is the one she's heard every day since her rescue from the troll cave. But she knows.

Rachel stiffens and tries to pull away. He doesn't allow her to, just holds her tighter.

"Now, now," he admonishes, mocking laughter in his voice. "You were so comfy a minute ago. Why start fighting now?"

She clenches her teeth. Forces herself to relax. Not to fight. She knows he'll just hurt her, and he's stronger than she is.

Instead, she lets out a long breath. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Been here the whole time. Just let someone else drive for awhile."

This time when she pulls away, he lets her.

She turns, arms crossed over her chest. "Get out of that body."

His grin is so achingly familiar, her eyes prickle. "What are you talking about? I made this body."

"It's not yours. You don't deserve to be in there. Get out."

He grabs her by the arms and pulls her to him. "Can't leave until I'm sure the job's done, Princess." Still holding her by the arms, he hauls her up. Smashes his lips against her.

Her heart pounds in her ears. All she can do is fist his shirt as he ravages her mouth, force herself not to fight. She's too frightened, too afraid of what he can do, what he's already done.

She's taken by surprise when her fist smashes into the underside of his jaw.

He laughs. "What's the matter, Princess? Or would you rather I called you, 'little girl'? Seemed to like it when he did it."

She tries to punch him again, but he catches her arm. Twists it behind her back, then sweeps her from her feet. "Playtime's over, baby doll. The real fun begins now."

The world swirls around her and suddenly she finds herself on the bed. He's over here, boring into hers, weight pressing against her.

Something is different. She's not sure what, but something…

"You're not gonna remember, Rachel," he says. "Might as well stop trying. I've got it locked up tight and you ain't getting at it." He taps her on the forehead.

"I'm not going to stop. I'm going to find out what you did to me."

"Not before I want you to. You already got a taste of what happens if you get too close."

She raises her eyebrow. "You're going to kill me if I try to remember?"

He smiles that smile that makes her gut wrench. "I won't kill you, Princess. But I will put you away for a very long time." He lowers his gaze down her body, hand following in a possessive caress. "Put you away and keep you all to myself." He lowers his head and presses a soft kiss to her lips. "Think about," he whispers.

Then he disappears.

Rachel opened her eyes. Dean was sprawled out in bed next to her, arm draped over her stomach. He was snoring very softly. Outside, it was raining, drops pattering against the window.

She licked her lips.

They tasted faintly of sulfur.