Heroes

By: Maygin

Summary: "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." -Edmund Burke (1729-1797)

Note: Once again… I am SOOO very sorry about the long wait on this. The craziness has yet to cease here. That and not having the alerts has seriously screwed with my every day living habits. I didn't realize just how much I relied on those stupid alerts to keep me entertained and up to date on fics. ;) Anywho – thank you guys for your continual support and reviews!! I've been horrible responding to them on this fic so I apologize for that too… man, I'm just sorry all over. Well, I hope these last few chapters don't disappoint.

Chapter 10

For the second time that night, Father Jim found himself answering to the pounding echoes coming from the heavy oak doors. He hurriedly ushered the two panting young men inside, locking the door behind them. "Follow me," he urged as he briskly walked back down the Sanctuary's isle towards the nurseries.

"Where'we goin?" Dean readjusted his brother's arm over his shoulder, trying to be careful with his side, and yet still fully aware of the danger no doubt still following them.

Father Jim ignored his question as he passed through a hallway into the housing units for the nursery and children.

Dean and Sam pulled up short behind him as he pulled out another key and quickly unlocked the door. Something dark caught Dean's eye on the floor. He looked down and frowned at the large black drawing beneath their feet in front of the door. "What is this?" He may be a newbie at all the demon stuff, but even he could feel the power the large symbol held; and it made him slightly nervous to be standing on top of it.

"Devil's Trap," Father Jim answered woodenly as he pushed through the door and waited for the boys to pass through as well before closing it and locking it once more.

"A what?"

The older man spared a look out of the small glass partition in the door that separated them from the hallway. "Devil's Trap; it's a protection symbol."

"Let me guess- it won't kill it." He asked snidely.

Father Jim pressed a finger to his lips shushing the younger man, pointedly throwing a look at the sleeping babies crowding the room. "No, it won't kill it," he whispered calmly.

"Right, so tell me again why we came back here?"

"Did you have somewhere else in mind?"

"Well, somewhere a little less obvious-" he broke off as his frustration caused him to jostle his brother's side, eliciting a small hiss. "Sorry."

"It can't go beyond that symbol." The Father said with quiet confidence. "Trust me Dean."

Dean swallowed down the first few responses that flung themselves at the barrier of his lips. He finally latched onto something pertinent, "Is that the only door in here?"

A brief flicker of something akin to delight in not only Dean's insight and quick thinking, but his discretion of his frustration alighted the older man's eyes. He moved beyond the boys, further towards the back of the room. "There are five rooms similar to this one in the children's wing; but most of them connect with each other. Only a few of them have doors that open into the hallways of the church." He opened the door at the far side of the room, noting Dean's expectant raised eyebrow. "I drew the symbol outside those doors as well," he affirmed.

Dean gave a small nod before helping his brother into the next larger room, noting this one was filled with small beds as opposed to cribs. Sleeping toddlers rested obliviously to the dangers surrounding them. He briefly wondered how many of these little guys also wore the charm around their necks. "Where exactly are we going?" he whispered as Father Jim passed by him towards the right hand side of the room.

"There's two sleeping quarters for whoever is working the night shift. One is through the side door back in the nursery, the other is here." He quietly moved around a few beds. "I sent Caroline home for the night."

"Caroline?" Dean shifted slightly as his brother seemed to slowly be getting heavier. He tilted his head down to get a better look at the younger man's face.

"One of the church staff; her and several other staff members take shifts to watch the children throughout the week. This room is usually empty so you'll have some privacy."

"That's good," Dean grunted quietly as Sam's full weight suddenly pulled at his shoulders, "cuz I think Yao Ming here is out for the count." Dean struggled to hold up the taller, younger man who seemed determined to make friends with the floor.

Father Jim stepped forward and lifted his old charge's legs, allowing Dean a moment to shift the weight before they quietly made their way into the room. They carefully laid the unconscious form on the single bed lying along the left hand side of the room. Dean fell into a chair, resting his muscles.

"Jes-" Dean paused, eyes catching with the Priest's, "-eeze… louise," he added lamely.

"Very smooth," the older man said knowingly.

Dean ran a hand over his head uncomfortably. "So now what?"

"Well," Father Jim pulled open another side door that led to a small bathroom. "I imagine you'll be able to leave in a few hours if you choose." He emerged with a plastic white box with a large red cross on it.

"What happens in a few hours?"

"Prayer meeting for our members who are business men begins at six-thirty." He set the box down on the nightstand beside the bed and began pulling items out of it. "And you can wipe that look of revulsion off your face, it's not like you think."

Dean quickly schooled his features, unaware the older man had even noticed. "So uh, how many men are we talkin about here? Enough to deter a demon from risking exposure?"

"Yes, but it's not just the numbers," he answered as he carefully lifted Sam's shirt to reveal the slight laceration along his side and numerous scratches littering his chest and abdomen.

Dean winced slightly at the sight, knowing those would not be fun to wake up with. "Let me guess, their prayers to God are gonna stop it," his voice was clearly laced with sarcasm.

A slight grin pulled at the corner of the older man's lips as he placed some heavy gauze on the laceration. "You'll come around some day," he answered quietly.

"Yeah, well while you're up there prayin would you mind asking him a question for me?"

The Father paused in his ministrations to check the seriousness of the younger man's question. "And what would that be?"

"What was he thinking making Sam taller than me?"

Father Jim laughed, turning back to his subject. "Perhaps he felt you needed a lesson in humility," he jested lightly.

"Whatever," Dean shifted in the chair, watching the older man's movements religiously. "So… what happens next?" At the Priest's questioning glance he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "With this thing gunning for Sam now… I mean, what's he gonna do? Be on the run the rest of his life?" He shrugged his shoulders. "He can't stay cooped up in this room forever."

"Neither can you."

Dean blinked, the allegations of that statement jolting his tired body. "Come again?"

Father Jim finished taping a clean pad of gauze around the cut in the young man's side with a sigh. He shifted on the bed slightly to face the other man. "I'm assuming you faced the demon that attacked us tonight correct?"

"Yeah," Dean answered warily.

"And I'm also assuming you made some heroic remark about not messing with your younger brother?" he asked tiredly.

Dean's eyes widened slightly, a little embarrassed at being so transparent and yet also a little wary that maybe the man before him also had the gift of prophecy. Jumbled responses fondled his lips looking for some kind of order or escape, but Dean couldn't for the life of him choose an adequate one. "…maybe."

Jim nodded. "You're on their radar now Dean. You're a possible threat. That makes you as much a target now as Samuel."

Dean's head lowered as he swallowed thickly; wondering why he wasn't as bothered by this as he thought he should be. He ran a hand across his eyes. In fact, for some reason he felt completely at peace with the ninety degree turn his life had taken in the last twelve hours. The whole idea of a supernatural world existing out there just electrified the blood in his veins. It was real… and despite the insanity of it, he wanted a part in it. He almost laughed at the very idea that being on the Fire Demon's most wanted list was exhilarating to him.

He glanced up at the holy man still sitting there watching him. "So how did you really know about that whole heroic remark thing?"

Father Jim grinned, knowing he'd been caught. "I didn't, I guessed." He gestured lazily to Dean's hand, "You've been marked."

Dean's eyes darted down to the back of his hand. His eyes widened and his jaw went slack as he inspected the black symbol he hadn't noticed before. He rubbed at the symbol vigorously with his other hand. "What the-"

"That won't work," the Priest said helpfully.

"Well what will work?" Dean asked with anger… this had not been apart of the deal. "What is this?"

Father Jim pulled a large band-aid out of the plastic box and held it out for him. "It's a mark of an enemy for all intents and purposes."

"What intent and purposes?!"

Father Jim laughed quietly as Dean angrily swiped the offered bandage. "Don't worry; it'll disappear in a few weeks." He folded his hands in his lap. "It's a supernatural mark so to speak. When you prove yourself a possible threat to the Demon's you receive that mark." He shrugged his shoulders, "After it disappears only they can see it."

Dean looked down at the black symbol with disgust. "Will they… I mean- can they track me with this?"

"No… at least not as far as I know."

"Well that's comforting." Dean slapped the bandage over the back of his hand, effectively covering the obtrusive mark.

"If it makes you feel any better, I've had my own mark for twenty-eight years. Samuel's had his since he was twelve… and we're both still alive."

Dean glanced at his little brother's form. "Why did they suddenly come after him?"

The older man's lower lip peeked out in thought as he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "I don't know," he said simply. "Maybe the Fire Demon was tired of him spoiling his plans." He eyed Dean closely as the younger man stared intently at his brother's prone form. "Or maybe... he saw something that truly frightened him coming into existence," he added on quietly.

Dean's brow quirked. "What do you mean?"

He drew in a deep breath, shaking his head and dismissing the thought. "Nothing." He raised himself from the bed before the younger man could question him further. "I need to check on the children." He held out a clean cloth, "Do you think you can clean these scratches?"

Dean hesitated, looking first at the cloth, then his brother and back towards the cloth before taking it. "Sure." He moved towards the bed, looking down at the first aid kit. "Do I just…"

Father Jim turned at the door hearing the unasked question, "Just pour some hydrogen peroxide on the cloth and gently wipe at them."

"Right." Dean nodded, still staring into the plastic box.

A smile pulled at the older man's lips. "It's the brown bottle."

Dean snagged up the bottle and bounced it in his hand a few times, "Yup, that's the one." Dean rolled his eyes at himself after the quarter door closed quietly behind the Priest. "Good one Dean," he berated. He twisted the bottle top off, glancing down at the still form on the bed. He started slightly as he realized Sam's eyes were open and they were watching him. "Hey."

Sam blinked slowly watching Dean's hesitant movements as he sat along the edge of the bed. "Hey," he quietly answered.

Dean's eyes skirted around the room in the awkward silence before he looked down and remembered the bottle and cloth in his hands and held them up. "Uh… the old guy wanted me… he said you needed those cleaned," he gestured ineptly towards the younger man's chest and scratches and became a little unnerved when Sam continued to simply lay there and stare at him. "So…" he racked his brain for something intelligent to say but nothing presented itself; so instead he simply held the bottle and cloth up again as if that would explain everything.

Dean became a little frustrated when it didn't; and when Dean became frustrated he screwed the social niceties and opted instead for action. He bunched the cloth up and poured some of the liquid onto it and then gently patted down the scratches, making sure to keep a peripheral eye out for any pain he might be causing. "Don't talk much do ya? You got a head injury or something," he asked casually.

"What do you want me to say?" Sam finally responded with a quiet voice.

"Well you could start with, hey Dean- thanks for saving my butt," he picked up one of the younger man's hands and smothered the cringing look that wanted to break free. A few deeper scratches embedded themselves in the palms.

Sam's dark eyes roamed the room a moment before returning to his older brother; he still had a hard time considering that a reality. And even more shocking was the fact that…"You're still here."

Dean paused giving the younger man an obvious look. "Of course I'm still here stupid."

Sam's brow quirked, "Are you supposed to talk to me like that?"

Dean snorted sarcastically, "Why? Because you're one of the 'chosen ones'?" he quoted with his fingers.

"No, because I'm your little brother."

Dean's grin softened a little. "Actually that's exactly why I get to talk to you like that."

"Hey Dean," Dean paused again in his ministrations to look at him, "thanks for saving my butt." Sam allowed a small grin to escape.

"Yeah well, just don't you forget it." Dean shrugged off the appreciation he could see in his brother's eyes despite the joke. He screwed the bottles cap back on and dropped it into the first aid kit. "Oh and by the way, you owe me fifty bucks for that stunt you pulled back at Jimmy's."

Sam ducked his head, "Sorry about that," he muttered, a little embarrassed at his earlier flight.

Dean glanced up from digging around in the box, "And what were you thinking hitting me in the face?"

Sam froze, the blood draining from his own face. He was slowly remembering just all the things he'd said and done this other man… his brother. He'd hit him… he'd actually hit his brother. And seeing as how he knew next to nothing about him, he wasn't sure how he'd react. Growing up he'd quickly learned to always be on guard and ready to either fight or run. If Dean was seriously pissed about his earlier actions, he didn't know what the appropriate action would be. He figured it was different, or at least should be with family.

Dean did a double-take between the box and the younger man's face. He literally saw his face go pale and the silent conflictions storming behind the deep, brown eyes. "Hey," he said gently, nudging him in the arm, "You alright?"

Sam swallowed, his body tense. He figured, when in doubt… "I'm sorry," he quietly forced out of a tight throat.

Dean's brow creased, "For what?" When Sam seemed to struggle with the answer he started guessing. "For hitting me?" He asked, slightly incredulously.

A miniscule nod answered him. "For everything," quietly followed.

Dean raised an eyebrow, "That covers a lot of ground buddy; I think you're gonna have to be a little more specific."

Sam's mind suddenly turned into a hurricane of thoughts, all ferociously assaulting his attention. Here, sitting not a foot from him was an entire life he'd missed out on. And not just Dean in and of itself; but what Dean represented… a family. A normal family with a house and a dog and years of growing up and learning from them and loving them and going to do fun things with them. He represented the consistency of safety and protection that Sam had yearned for; the available council he always looked for… twenty-two years of a life he could've had was sitting here staring him in the face. And it made his chest ache.

"Sam?" Dean quietly baited.

Sam swallowed the annoyingly huge lump in his throat, "So what happens next?"

Dean paused a moment, trying to follow the younger man's wandering emotions. "What do you mean?"

Sam self-consciously shifted on the bed, finding everything but Dean extremely interesting. "Do we exchange numbers or… meet for lunch here and there or… what?" Sam fumbled through the embarrassing question.

Dean's head tilted back in understanding and then gave serious consideration to the question. It wasn't as if the same thing hadn't been swimming around his own head. "Well… where would you normally go from here?"

Sam shrugged, "Home."

"And where's that?"

"Off of Sunshine Drive."

Dean blinked, piecing that one together pretty quickly. "Sunshine drive," he said flatly. "As in the shelter on Sunshine Drive."

Sam shrugged, trying to play it off; people with jobs and homes always found the idea of living in a shelter horrific and never failed to give him that look of pity. "It's not that bad."

Dean felt a flare of anger spike in his chest, "Sam, it's a shelter," he clarified slowly.

"Yeah, it's a roof over my head, food for my stomach and a warm bed at night. What's the big deal?" Sam defended.

"Alright you know what? I'm not arguing this with you," Dean finalized, back to digging in the first aid kit. "When we leave here you're staying with me got it?"

Sam hated that his soul wanted more than anything for that to happen; but the acidic poison of doubt quickly tainted and corroded that desire. Doubt that once Dean got an idea of who he really was… he'd be back on his own again.

"Hey," Dean interrupted his brothers obviously brooding thoughts, "would you wipe that look of horror off your face? It won't be that bad; besides…it's not like we'll be sticking around here anyways." Dean absently muttered the last part in annoyance as he tossed the cloth still in his hand onto the nightstand.

Sam blinked, "What do you mean?"

Dean sighed. "Well apparently you've bumped yourself up on Evil's top 10 ten list," he jerked his head to the side, "And I managed to make a nuisance of myself." He pulled the band aid off his left hand and casually held it up.

Sam's eyes widened, he knew that mark all too well. It had scared the crap out of him when he'd woken up with it one day; not to mention his foster parents at that time were rigid and strict and what they had assumed was a tattoo was simply not tolerated. It would turn out to be the first of many re-placements he'd had to endure. And now his brother had one. He turned sad eyes to the older man next to him, "That's too bad… I was just starting to like you."

Dean's head tilted slightly, "Did you just make a joke?"

Sam fidgeted self-consciously. "Considering the situation, an entirely inappropriate one; yes."

Dean blinked hard and wide, "Do you always complicate your sentences like that?"

"Unequivocally."

Sam gave a small grin and Dean frowned; he wasn't certain because he didn't really know Sam all that well yet, but he was pretty sure he was being mocked.

Sam cleared his throat finally, ending the light stand-off. "So, if we're not sticking around… where are we going?"

Dean's hands flung out, "Wherever the road leads us."

"The road could lead us into the ocean," he said flatly.

"What, you don't know how to swim?"

Sam gave his brother a skeptical look to which Dean finally conceded with a roll of his eyes. "Well wherever you wanna go. It's up to you."

The younger man watched Dean with a wary look. "Seriously?"

Dean shrugged, "As long as it's far away from here. We gotta get off the radar for a while… figure out what we're dealing with."

"But..." Sam shifted uncomfortably again, "what if I… you know," he said, awkwardly gesturing towards his head.

Dean briefly considered it. "Then we'll make a call."

"To who?" Sam asked skeptically. "Father Jim? What's he going to do, go knocking on their door and say, hi- I'm here to stop a demon from scorching your wife and baby?"

"Well I wouldn't say scorching but-" he broke off at the younger man's glare and held up a complacent hand. "Alright look… I've got a lot of friends and contacts around here." He watched his brother's reaction. "We'll figure out Sammy, but right now we gotta get outta town. You aren't gonna do anyone any good if your dead… okay?"

Sam seemed to consider it for a few moments before conceding with a small nod. "Alright." Dean nodded in agreement. "Could you just do me one favor though?"

"You name it."

"Stop calling me Sammy?"

"Never gonna happen."

TBC…

Yeah I know… how much longer can I actually drag this thing out huh? Well you'll be happy to know there are only two chapters left… I think. However, for those of you who have actually enjoyed this – I've already started on a continuation. It's only about two-fifths of the way finished, but it's coming at least ;) The ever ambiguous "Soon" is not coming soon enough!!