AN: Okay, here comes a little of the 'M' rating to this fic. And may I ask where the hell were the condoms when this book was originally published? I had to add some! C'mon people, safe sex!

Dean watched moodily as Sam went off to bed and wondered how he was going to get to sleep himself. When Sam had disappeared into the bedroom, he sprawled in an armchair and considered having another brandy. He needed something to squelch the restlessness that seemed to be thrumming through his veins.

This sensation was far worse than the disoriented feeling he'd had when he'd finally finished the book and uploaded it to the publisher. Then he'd felt suddenly at loose ends, as if everything had ended too quickly. But tonight's uneasiness was multiplied a hundred times by the dull ache of desire.

He could not remember the last time he'd desired a person as intensely as he wanted Sam.

Dean stared across the room at the waiting brandy bottle and decided against pouring himself another glass. He needed it, but this was not the night to indulge. Not when he was standing guard over a man who had no real conception of the kind of trouble that might be waiting outside the door.

'Singer, you old devil, you really pulled out all the stops this time, didn't you?' he muttered, leaning his head back against the chair. 'Who or what are you hunting?'

Whoever Singer's quarry was, Dean didn't have any doubts about the outcome. Bobby had been out of the business for a long time, but he'd once been the best there was at what he did. He'd get his man. In the meantime, Dean knew exactly what was required of himself. Singer had assigned him the task in that phone message. His responsibility was to take care of Sam.

'We also serve who only sit and wait,' he paraphrased, mockingly solemn.

The fact that someone had actually approached Sam that afternoon was eating at him, fuelling his unease and gnawing at his mind. His instincts were to run with Sam, take him as far away as he could, and hide him well. But when he left emotion out of the process and concentrated on logic, he knew Sam was safest here in the house. The alarm system Singer had helped him install was good. The best. The place was a walled fortress. Actually, when he thought about it, most of his life had become a walled fortress. Strong, secure, protected, with everything under control.

Until he'd walked into his den the other evening and found a young man with the crystal apple standing in the filtered gold of a setting sun.

He really should be trying to get some sleep, Dean thought. He wasn't doing himself any good sitting here fantasizing about a man with an apple. And there was no need to stay on guard all night in this chair. There would be ample warning if anyone tried to get to Sam while he was here. But somehow the thought of going off to a lonely bed was depressing. It didn't make any sense, because he was used to a lonely bed. But tonight the prospect bothered him.

Forcing his mind away from the tantalizing image of Sam undressing for bed down the hall, Dean wondered just where Bobby Singer was at the moment. The older man had dropped out of sight and would probably stay out of sight until it was all over. Good, logical strategy. In the meantime all Dean could do was wait and keep watch over the man in his care.

Patience, he had told Sam that afternoon, was of great value. He wasn't sure Sam had believed him. The thought edged his mouth with a wry flicker of amusement. The young man did things with a certain impulsive flair. Dean could see why he probably wasn't cut out for the corporate world in the long run. Sam didn't have the patience for elaborate strategy and he didn't show any interest in restraining his impulsiveness. In the short time Dean had known him Sam had enthusiastically broken into two private houses, comprehended and been a little shaken by the gut-level action of Phantom, nearly gotten himself abducted, and fixed him a celebration dinner with all the excitement of a person who genuinely cared about his success. Sam had topped that off by calmly taking himself off to bed as though he were simply a visiting relative rather than a man who'd been subtly tantalizing his host all evening.

Yes, he could see why Sam probably couldn't have gotten too much further in the corporate world. They liked flair in that world, it was true, but they liked it coupled with a certain amount of predictability and internalized respect for the corporate image. Dean had a strong hunch Sam didn't have any such thing as an internalized respect for that type of image. Just as he probably hadn't had any for the academic image or the artistic image. Sam would play at maintaining the corporate façade the same way he played at being a 'streamer. After a while, upper management would probably have figured out that he wasn't one hundred percent committed to their world. Apparently Sam had figured it out first and decided to make a graceful exit.

The same kind of exit he'd made tonight, Dean concluded grimly. Did Sam know he was sitting here, his body in a state of semi-arousal while his mind tried to anticipate the next move the guy outside in the shadows might make? He wished to hell Singer would call and provide some clue as to what was happening. In the meantime all he could do was sit tight and practice the virtue of patience. It was a virtue he'd learned well.

Two hours later Sam came drowsily awake and lay still in the wide bed wondering what had brought him up out of a light sleep. It had been hard enough to get to sleep in the first place. He was momentarily annoyed at the intrusion.

Then the reality of where he was and why came back and he sat up, absently rubbing his eyes. He listened for a moment but heard nothing. A wary glance at the curtained window showed no menacing shadows. Why on earth was he awake? Perhaps it was simply nerves. He certainly had a right to a small bout of nervous tension, he assured himself. Stretching his arms up over his head, he thought about getting up for a drink of water or a glass of milk. Then he noticed that light was seeping under his bedroom door from the hall. Dean must still be up, he realized in concern.

If Dean wasn't able to sleep, it was because of him. Dean was sitting out there in the living room, worrying. Sam was certain of it. The man took his responsibilities too much to heart. He didn't want Dean staying up all night to stand guard over him.

Pushing aside the covers, he climbed out of his bed and went to the door. The hall outside his room was empty and the light left on in it seemed to be the only light in the house. Perhaps he was wrong. Maybe Dean had gone to bed after all. Sam would feel much better if he had.

As long as he was up he might as well see if there was any milk in the refrigerator. Stepping out into the hall, Sam walked toward the living room, intent on reaching the kitchen. It was as he left the lighted hall and moved into the shadows en route to his goal that he saw him.

'Dean?'

The older man was standing near a window, his lean frame a dark silhouette amid the various dark shapes of the living room. Sam knew he was watching him, although the silvered green eyes were lost in pools of shadow.

'Do you make a habit of running around a lot at night?' Dean asked gently. 'This is the second evening in a row that I've found you out and about instead of safely in bed.'

Sam smiled. 'The fact that you've been awake to observe my nocturnal habits means yours are a little odd, too. Why aren't you in bed, Dean?'

'I wasn't sleepy,' he said simply.

'I don't believe you.' Sam took a few steps forward, his bare feet silent on the wooden floor. 'You're worried, aren't you? I though you said the house was safe.'

'It is.'

'Then you should be in bed, not prowling around out here.'

'Is that what I was doing?' He seemed vaguely amused. 'Prowling?'

Sam moved still closer. He came to a halt a foot away from Dean. 'I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep unless you do. I'm not used to someone fretting over me like this. It makes me feel uncomfortable, Dean. You don't need to assume this kind of responsibility toward me.'

'I don't have any choice.' Dean's tone was suddenly grim.

'You mean because of that voicemail my uncle left?' Sam groaned. 'Dean, you can't take that too seriously. I'm not really your responsibility. There's absolutely no need to feel that you have to play bodyguard.'

'After what happened this afternoon?' he asked dryly.

Sam shook his head resolutely. 'When it comes right down to it, Dean, that was my problem, not yours. I mean, I certainly appreciate your interest in my welfare, but I don't want you to feel you have to get so involved.'

'I've already told you; I don't have any choice.' Dean lifted his hand to touch Sam's cheek. 'And I think you know it.'

Belatedly Sam remembered that Dean could see much better in the dark than he could. He was very much afraid Dean might be able to read the uncertainty in his eyes as he looked at him. 'Dean, please…'

'What are you afraid of, Sam? That you might come to rely on me? Your uncle says you move in a world where you can't count on anyone when the chips are down.'

'Sometimes my uncle exaggerates,' he said huskily, acutely conscious of the roughness of Dean's fingertips. Sam wanted to move away from his touch and couldn't.

'Your uncle knows a lot about human nature. He learned it the hard way.'

'But he's prone to sweeping generalizations,' Sam protested. 'He met a couple of the people I've dated and decided everyone in my world was like them. I don't think he approves of the 'new male,' Sam added, trying for a spark of humour.

Dean didn't respond. His hand slid down the side of Sam's throat, resting just above the collar of his t-shirt. 'I don't think you approve of the 'new male' either, Sam, or you would have been taken by now.'

'It sounds as though you're prone to sweeping generalizations, too! Actually, there is a lot to be said for the new breed of male. He acts as if he's sensitive, communicates his thoughts and feelings with all the right words; he's into things like art and gourmet cooking and he's able to handle the idea of a mate in the professional world, or says he is…'

'And he thinks in terms of relationships instead of commitments. But a man like you needs commitment, according to your uncle. That says it all, Sam. Your uncle is right. You would never have found what you were looking for in your old world.'

'How can you know so much about me?' Sam murmured, feeling a bit confused and unsure.

'Your uncle has told me a lot about you. For nearly a year he's been feeding me bits and pieces of information about you. Enough to torment me and bait me and tease me. I've remembered everything he said. And now that I've had you with me for a couple of days I've had a chance to learn a few things on my own.'

'You're an expert on human nature, too?'

'Umm.' The hand on Sam's throat was warm and compelling. Dean traced the muscular curve of Sam's shoulder as if deeply intrigued by it.

'And did you gain your knowledge the hard way, also?' Sam demanded, striving to maintain his sense of balance, both emotional and physical.

'There is no easy way.'

'Dean…'

'There's nothing else to say, Sam. We're together in this. I'm going to look after you, whether you think I have the right to do so or not.'

Sam moved his head in a slow negative. 'Because my uncle 'gave' me to you?'

'Perhaps. I haven't had a lot of gifts in my life. I've learned to take care of the ones I do get.'

'Just as you've learned to value life's little pleasures?'

Dean muttered something under his breath, something that sounded disgusted. 'You misinterpreted what I meant last night.'

'Did I?'

'And now you're using that misinterpretation as an excuse to withdraw from me tonight, aren't you?'

'Yes,' Sam acknowledged, aware of an ache of pain and regret because of his own defensive behaviour. He wanted to toss it aside and give in to the promise of the moment. Feeling torn in a way he had never known before, he couldn't bring himself to move away from Dean and walk back to the bedroom. It should have been a simple enough action. He knew it would certainly be the wisest thing to do under the circumstances.

'Sam, you don't have to be afraid of me,' Dean said so softly he almost didn't hear him. It was the urgent need in his voice that got through to him.

'I know that.' The bluntly honest words were out before he could halt them, a response to the urgency in him. Hastily he tried to retreat. 'It's not that I'm afraid of you, I simple don't want you assuming so much responsibility toward me.'

'I know. Because you're afraid that if you give me that right, you'll come to rely on me and at some point in the future that could be dangerous, couldn't it?'

'Dangerous?'

'You're afraid that one day you'll turn around and I won't be there or I won't be the man you think I am at the moment you need me most.'

Sam took a deep breath and tried to control the restlessness in his fingers as they reached out towards Dean's sleeve. 'That's quite an analysis.'

'I told you; I've been studying you. Between your uncle's observations and my own, I've got a fair amount of data,' he murmured.

'So you think you know a great deal about me now, is that it? What about you, Dean? What do you need?'

'You.'

The single word was a monolith between them. Sam knew there was no way around or over the starkness of Dean's answer. He could only retreat or accept it. It was not possible to ignore it.

Intellectually Sam knew he should retreat. But his intense emotional reaction anchored him to the spot. He could not move. In that moment he knew he wanted Dean, too. The one element of caution that he had always practiced in an otherwise playful approach to life seemed to be disintegrating. The strange swirl of emotions he experienced around this man was blowing into a full-scale storm. Sam was no longer certain he could resist the impact.

'Dean,' he heard himself whisper, 'are you sure?'

'Do you have to ask?'

'No.' he looked at Dean wonderingly. 'No, I don't think I do. I've never met anyone like you.'

'I know. I've never met anyone like you, either.' The hand on his neck held Sam very still as Dean brought their lips together.

Sam trembled a little beneath the warm onslaught of Dean's kiss, and there was a soft sound far back in Sam's throat that was lost against Dean's lips. He felt the need in Dean and the leashed hunger and knew that the honesty of the other man's desire was going to be overwhelming.

Slowly his palms lifted to pull against strong shoulders and his mouth opened acceptingly.

'Sam…'

The name was a husky groan uttered deep in Dean's chest and then he was tasting the damp warmth behind Sam's lips. The aggressive intimacy of the kiss seemed to swamp Sam, making him sway against the other man. Dean steadied him, holding him with a kind of fierce gentleness that provided all the strength he needed.

Slowly Dean pulled away until he could look questioningly into Sam's face. His eyes gleamed with a silvery, green brilliance that captivated Sam, and Sam knew in that moment that he was lost. Or found. He couldn't be sure which. Nothing seemed normal or totally rational. But one fact seemed to emerge from the shimmering world of his emotions. If Dean wanted him tonight, he was his.

Dean must have read the intense desire tinged with hesitation behind Sam's lowered lashes because he let out a long sigh and pulled the younger man tighter against his chest.

'It's all right, Sam.' His voice was a dark and passionate stroke along his nerves. 'It's all right, babe. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything. I've waited and wondered so long. I didn't even realize how much I needed you until you finally walked into my life.'

Sam felt the easy power in the other man and tucked his head against Dean's neck. Unconsciously he surrendered the last remnants of his caution and moved blindly as Dean urged him into motion. He didn't care where Dean was leading him or what would happen when they arrived. Never had he been so certain that it was safe to abandon the future for the moment. There was no longer a distinction between the two in his mind. In fact, it seemed to him that there could be no real future without this timeless interlude. Dean needed him and he needed Dean.

Sam was vaguely aware that Dean led him into his own bedroom, not Sam's. Carefully Dean stepped away to pull back the covers. His eyes never left Sam's face. When he'd finished the small task, he stood in front of Sam and put his hands on the younger man's hips, their lips meeting in a heated kiss. There was more than passion in his touch, Sam realized. There was that sense of need and urgency he had responded to last night on the balcony of his motel room. Once more it enthralled Sam and this time there was no barrier to keep his from tumbling into the glittering net.

'Don't think about anything else except us,' Dean whispered against Sam's lips as he slowly slid his hands under the thin t-shirt and pushed it up, lips parting briefly as he pulled the shirt up off Sam's shoulders. 'Please, Sam. Just us.'

'I don't think I could concentrate on anything else even if I wanted to.' Sam said truthfully. Again he shivered. The shirt fell to the floor at his feet.

'Are you afraid of me?'

Sam shook his head. 'No.'

'You're trembling.' Dean seemed incredibly concerned over the fact. His fingertips stroked Sam's bare arms before coming to rest on his shoulders.

'I know, but not because I'm afraid.' he smiled a little as he covered one of Dean's hands with his own. 'You're trembling a bit, too.'

'I'm shaking like a leaf. I want you, Sam. I've been wanting you all evening. No, longer than that. I've been wanting you for months.' The words were raw with honesty.

'Dean, it's probably much too soon-'

'No,' he interrupted roughly. 'It couldn't possibly be too soon. Not for us.'

Dean's hand moved down across his chest and Sam felt the tantalizing heat of the man's palms start to spread through his body. He knew Dean must realize that his body was already responding. Sam could feel the tautness of his nipples as they came tinglingly alive and the slow curl of desire low in his stomach. He caught his breath and began to fumble with the buttons of Dean's shirt.

'Please, Sam,' Dean breathed into his hair. 'Yes, please.'

Dean's need filled Sam with a longing to satisfy and comfort him. Slowly he made his way down the front of Dean's shirt until it parted, exposing the smooth skin of his chest. Sam ran a tongue over one of the nipples presented to him and stifled a moan that was bursting to escape. He was so entranced with the vivid sensuality of the moment that he was hardly even aware of his sleep pants slipping off his hips and down to the floor.

But when Dean's hands slid down his back to stroke the taut skin at his hips, the moan finally escaped and he stumbled a little against him. Sam glanced into Dean's face and read the masculine anticipation there that surely mirrored his own.

'You're so soft, but not,' Dean murmured in tones of wonder. His fingers sank into the strong flesh of Sam's ass and he pulled their bodies tightly flush together eliciting a moan from both men when their hips aligned. The bare skin of Sam's cock felt over sensitized against the rough fabric of Dean's jeans.

'You're not soft at all,' Sam gasped unthinkingly and then buried his flushed face against Dean's neck as the older man growled an amused response.

'No, I don't suppose I am. I feel as though I'm made up of angles and rough edges. You, on the other hand, are composed of strong plains and gentle valleys. Places where a man can lose himself.'

Dean let his fingers trail into the cleft between his buttocks and Sam's nails dug lightly into his skin as Dean followed the path down to run a finger over the sensitive rosette near the juncture of Sam's thighs.

'Dean…'

'Say my name like that again,' he demanded hoarsely as he gently pushed Sam back and settled him on the bed. 'It sounds different when you say it.'

'Does it?' Sam lay watching as Dean yanked off his shirt the rest of the way, stepped out of his shoes and unclasped his jeans. A moment later he stood nude beside the bed, the light from the hall emphasizing his lean, hard body. He was wonderful, Sam thought dazedly. Everything he could ever want in a man. It was strange to be so certain of that, because until now Sam hadn't been quite sure just what he had wanted in a man. He had only known that he hadn't found it.

'God, Dean,' he whispered as Dean pulled open the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms and came down beside him. 'Dean, I…'

'What?' Dean flattened his palm on Sam's stomach and smoothed his skin down to the curling hair that framed his manhood. The heat of Dean's palm wrapping around his cock with a gentle slide scattered any coherent thoughts Sam may have had.

'Never mind.' he arched into Dean, shifting restlessly under the continued onslaught of his touch. 'I can't even think right now.'

'There's nothing to think about.' Dean leaned down to run a line of kisses across Sam's chest. His tongue teased the firm bud of his nipple until Sam cried out and pulled him closer. 'That's all you have to do right now,' Dean told him approvingly, the words heavy with desire. 'Just give yourself to me. Let me open my present. I've been waiting so long for you, Sammy.'

Sam could do nothing but obey, wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders and digging his fingers into the once rigidly controlled hair. When prowling fingers caressed Sam's twitching entrance and a suddenly lubed finger finally pushed in, he said Dean's name again, this time with an urgency that matched Dean's own.

'Sam, my Sam, mine.' Dean pinned one of Sam's legs with his strong thigh and probed him deeply with a deliciously questing touch. When Sam shuddered and gasped, Dean muttered hot, dark words of encouragement into his ear lips moving along the strong cord of Sam's neck.

Sam lifted himself against Dean's hand, unable to resist the caress. Never had he responded so completely and so readily. His senses seemed inflamed, thoroughly alive and aware in a way that was new to him. Fascinated by the world of sensation that was beginning to spin around him, he stroked Dean's smoothly muscled frame. His palms slipped over the sleek contours of Dean's back, down to the hard planes of his thigh. Then, with rediscovered boldness he moved his fingertips around to find the flat terrain of Dean's stomach. For an instant longer he hesitated, teased. Then his hand went lower.

'Yes,' Dean grated with harsh need when Sam's hand finally closed around him and firmly stroked his male hardness. 'Touch me, Sammy. Let me have all of you. I need you so.'

Sam couldn't find words but Dean seemed to know he was ready. With passionate aggression Dean pushed him into the pillows, quickly rolled on the condom and lowered himself down along the length of Sam slipping his arms under the younger man's knees.

'Put your arms around me, Sammy, and never let go,' he commanded. 'Never let go…'

Sam did as Dean instructed, pulling Dean against him until he felt the blunt hardness of Dean waiting at the gate. The knowledge that Dean was on the verge of entering him fully and completely brought a brief, startling flicker of alarm. For an instant Sam had a vision of the reality that lay beyond tonight. This man was unique. After tonight nothing would ever be the same.

The fleeting glimpse of the future was gone an instant later as Dean moved heavily against him. All of Sam's senses returned to the moment, lost once more in the pulsating excitement.

'God, Dean…' The words were torn from him as he felt the full impact of Dean's body taking possession of him.

'Hold me, Sam.'

Instinctively Sam obeyed as he adjusted to Dean's sensual invasion. Then Dean began to move within him, slow, tantalizing strokes that pushed his senses into tighter and tighter bundles of energy that strove for release.

The end was a revelation to Sam, a new understanding of his body and its responses. He found himself grasping the man above him with an abandon that he would never have believed if he hadn't experienced it firsthand.

'That's it, babe,' Dean rasped as Sam cried out his name once more as he came. 'Let go. Just let go. I'll take you with me all the way.'

Willingly, unable to do anything else, Sam gave himself to Dean completely and gloried in the knowledge that he was returning the gift in full measure. He heard the sound of his name as it was wrenched from Dean and then he was pushing deeply into him one last time. His hard body shuddered for a long moment and then collapsed. Outside the window the night breeze briefly stirred a stand of fir and then all was silent.

It was a long while before Sam became aware of the sprawled weight that still trapped him in the depths of the bedding. He opened his eyes to find Dean lying on top of him, his head on the pillow beside him. He was watching him from behind half-closed lashes.

'Am I too heavy for you?' Dean asked lazily.

'Umm.'

His mouth flickered in brief amusement as he recognized Sam's deliberate imitation of his characteristic response. 'What does 'umm' mean?'

'I don't know. You're the expert. You tell me.'

'It means 'uh-huh.'' Dean sighed regretfully and slowly rolled onto his side pressing a soft kiss to Sam's lips as he gave a hiss of discomfort before quickly removing the used condom and dropping it in the wastebasket next to the bed. Then he gathered Sam close, uncaring of the mess across their stomachs and chests. 'Too bad. You're very comfortable.'

'Am I?'

Dean's head inclined downward once in a short nod. 'Incredibly comfortable. I can't recall when I've been this comfortable. Or this relaxed. Or this content.'

'Neither can I,' Sam said honestly. It was the truth. Tonight there were no pretences or games or caution. His fingertips worked small, idle patterns on Dean's chest, a little surprised to find that Dean was a cuddler. 'Dean, I've never felt quite like this before in my life.'

'You don't sound as if you're sure you like feeling this way.' He touched Sam's hair.

Nothing will ever be the same. 'If feels strange.'

'We'll get used to it,' Dean assured him.

'Will we?'

'You're nervous all of a sudden aren't you?'

'No,' Sam denied quickly.

'Sam, don't try to fool me now. You can't do it,' he told him gently.

'Well, maybe I am a little nervous. It was too soon, Dean.'

'It was inevitable, so the timing doesn't really matter.'

'We hardly know each other.'

'You were a gift to me, remember? I was bound to open you as soon as I could.

Sam flushed. 'I thought you were a great believer in patience.'

'Only when it's the best option.'

'You don't think we should have waited awhile longer? Made certain of our feelings?' Sam asked curiously.

'I am certain of my feelings,' Dean told him roughly.

'I don't want you confusing your feelings of responsibility for me with… with your, uh, more personal feelings.'

Dean looked down at him in mocking pity. 'Believe me, I'm not mistaking a sense of responsibility for raw passion. From my point of view the two are quite distinct. You're the one who sounds confused.'

'You're not?'

'Not at all, Sam. If anything, tonight just makes everything even simpler and more straightforward.'

Sam eyed him curiously. 'What does that mean?'

'It means we don't have to have any more arguments about my right to take care of you, for one thing.' He brushed Sam's parted lips and then drew back to study his expression. 'You belong to me now. That gives me all the rights I need.'

Sam bridled slightly. 'I've never met a man so anxious to assume responsibility,' he tried to say lightly. But he was very much afraid his voice cracked a little on the last word.

'I've never been particularly anxious to assume responsibility for anyone else,' Dean told him seriously. 'With you, it's different.'

'And what do you want from me in return?' Sam asked carefully.

'I've already told you, remember?' He pushed a strand of hair back behind Sam's ear. 'I want you to love me. I like the idea of having you love me. I like it very much.'

'You think it would be 'pleasant,'' Sam couldn't resist saying somewhat smartly.

'You said you fell a little in love with the hero in Phantom.'

'So?' Sam challenged softly.

'How do you think he would treat a person whose love he wanted?'

The question startled Sam. He frowned. 'I think he would take care of them. They could trust him.'

'I want you to trust me the same way.'

Sam half smiled. 'You're not Phantom.'

'I created him. There must be something of me in him and vice versa.'

Sam studied his intent features. He had asked himself so many questions about the similarities between Dean and his hero the previous night when he'd read the manuscript. 'Yes, I think there might be.'

'Trust me, sweet Sam,' he grated, rolling onto his back and pulling Sam over on top of him. 'Trust me with your love. Like your uncle, I know what has value in life. I'll take good care of you.'

'Aren't you worried about how well I'll take care of you?' Sam parried, aware of the renewing tautness in his body.

'You won't play games with me.'

'What makes you so sure?' Sam demanded, rather irritated with the certainty in his voice.

'Because it would tear me apart if you did,' Dean said simply. 'You wouldn't do that to me, would you, Sam?'

Horrified at the thought, Sam cradled Dean's face between his palms. 'No, Dean. Never that,' he vowed.

Unaware of how deeply he had just committed himself, Sam kissed Dean, translating the verbal promise into a physical one. Dean's hands came up to wrap around Sam's waist and he arched his lower body demandingly into the younger man's.

'Dean?'

'Umm.'

Sam didn't bother to ask him what he meant It was becoming very obvious. Sam thrust his own hips against the other man's, locking their mouths together as they began the spiralling climb to passion.

-o0o-

The first hint of dawn was in the sky the next time Sam came awake. There was a moment of lazy curiosity as he opened his eyes and absorbed his surroundings. Dean's room was a thoroughly masculine affair, with its warm cedar walls and heavy, clean-lined furniture. It was as orderly and controlled-looking as the rest of his house. Sam was finding it interesting until he became aware of the weight of an arm across his stomach. Then he awoke completely.

Memories of the night filtered back in a haze of lingering passion and midnight promises. He turned to look at Dean and was grateful to discover he was still sound asleep. What exactly had he agreed to last night, he wondered with a sudden feeling of panic.

There had been talk of love and responsibility and a promise not to play games. But it seemed to him that most of the dangerous, reckless promises had come from him. The only thing Dean had vowed in return was to take care of him.

It was crazy, Sam chided himself as he cautiously slipped out from under Dean's arm. He hadn't intended to let things go so far. He had never meant to wind up in bed with him, at least not so soon. Sam had barely met the man. This was exactly the sort of behaviour he had instinctively avoided in the world he had just left. What on earth was the matter with him?

Dean stirred restlessly when Sam slid off the bed but he didn't awaken. On silent feet Sam slipped down the hall to his own room and scrambled about for his jeans and a shirt. He badly needed to get out of the house for a while. He needed time to think and re-evaluate the whole situation. His family had often warned him that his periodic bouts of impulsiveness would land him in real trouble someday. Even Uncle Bobby had felt obliged to point out that there were some risks involved in playing games with life.

But last night had been no game. Last night had been for real. Twenty-four-karat real.

Shoving his feet into a pair of boots, Sam yanked a lightweight windbreaker out of his duffel bag and strode down the hall to the living room. He let himself out the front door and stood on the porch, inhaling deeply of the sea-sharpened morning air.

For a moment he hesitated, unable to think clearly enough to decide on a destination. Then he remembered the car he had left parked in the inn parking lot. With a small sigh of relief at having provided himself with a focus for the morning walk, he hurried down the steps and out to the road. He would walk back toward town and pick up his car. Wonderful. It would give his something useful to do while he tried to sort out his future, he thought. Sam patted his jeans pocket to make certain he had the keys.

Behind him he was unaware of the house purring to life with news of the unauthorized exit. Dean came instantly awake as the nearly silent vibration in the headboard jolted him. The alarm-clock radio beside the bed was blinking in a fashion that had nothing to do with its normal function. The message was quiet but clear.

The house was doing its duty. Faithfully it undertook to warn its owner that Sam was gone.

With an oath that was half rage and half pain, Dean threw off the covers and reached for his clothes.

tbc