At the relative safety of the motel on the edge of town, Sam took his time to calm down, begin to recuperate and then worry. As soon as they had entered the room, after Dean had checked that he would indeed be alright, he had collapsed onto his side of the bed and practically fallen into a coma whilst in the process of removing his jacket. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the headboard and stared at his brother.

He was filthy, his hands, face and clothes were all covered in patches of dirt and blood from the numerous scratches and scrapes acquired during their nocturnal adventure, their hunt. This was just an interlude. They had not managed to eradicate the threat, just really piss it off, but with their retreat, it was no doubt planning and storing up who knew what for later.

Elbows on knees, Sam's head dropped into his hands as he breathed deeply trying to still the anxious knocking of his heart against his ribs. He envied Dean, already breathing the deep drafts of sleep across from him, and not for the first time. Far from it in fact.

Dean had always been more comfortable with life than his younger brother and not just in their life as hunters but seemed to fit in better with the world all around. That charm that he could turn on and off at need, that he could adapt to his audience almost subconsciously whenever he needed something from them, be it directions, information or something much more direct. He could unfreeze even the hardest heart to get what he needed from male or female and always left people feeling good about his presence about being able to be of help to him.

Nevermind his success with women. He was just so much more confident than Sam was but it was not surprising as he was so much better looking. Dean was handsome the way a man should be. Sam was no fool or falsely modest. He knew he was far from ugly or even plain but his appeal was more of a 'pretty' verity.

Women would focus on his brother so often that he had stopped noticing and would need to be informed, usually by a kick, if it was him that was the appeal. But with his brother about it was rare. No woman wanted to tame Sam, wanted to dice with that bit of danger or be saved by him as they did Dean.

He could fight, hell that's all he seemed to do lately, but on looking at him, he would not be expected to be able to come to anyone's rescue. He was the brains and Dean the brawn. The preconceived ideas on first impression pissed them both off but neither had or would ever admit it to the other.

The only thing they had ever truly, honestly shared their feelings about with each other had been over Dad. The long search for him then dealing with his final loss. They talked about him a lot. Dean had idolised the man but was reluctant to talk about their mother. More envy as Dean could remember her if only slightly and Sam of course could not.

Sighing, he wearily stood and began to strip, leaving a pile of clothes equally as dirty as those Dean had not managed to divest and headed for the bathroom to shower.

On entering, catching his reflection in the mirror over the sink, he saw his face also was covered with streaks of dirt, ash and blood. The sight held no fear for him, unlike when he had seen Dean's damaged face, because Sam seemed to heal remarkably quickly. The scrapes and scratches were nothing and deeper wounds from claws, knives and car wrecks all healed with barely a scar if any at all.

Even his black eye, only two days old, already was that dirty yellow of bruise about ready to fade completely. Only his bones seemed to take the usual time to mend. He had had that cast on his wrist for what seemed an eternity. His fast healing another 'gift' from his Demon heritage possibly?

Deciding he had had enough with thinking, he switched on the shower and standing under the fitful jets of warm water, let them soak then wash the grime away. ===

Sam shocked awake. Rubbing a trembling hand through his hair then across his face, he looked around becoming disorientated by the bright sunshine streaming through the curtains. He sat up, scooting back to lean against the headboard. Shit, that had been bad. A nightmare, well 'day-mare', simple but terrifying. No monsters, nothing chasing him or trying to kill him. No ghost, ghouls or even clowns. He had been alone, pure and simple. In the dream nothing much happened, he got up, went to work, he actually had had a job, but he was alone. No family, no friends. No Dean.

He hugged himself. Lingering over from the dream was that feeling of pure emptiness and, the most terrifying thing about it all was, he had an idea that it was prophetic, how he would be once, if, he lost Dean. It would be unbearable. He drew his legs up, folding his arms across them, dropped his head and simply let the tears fall.

How long for he didn't know but the bed moved and a hand was placed on the back of his neck. Sam slowly looked up into the concerned questioning eyes of his brother. The look pierced his heart and a sob escaped him. He was immediately embarrassed and prepared for sarcasm but Dean gently pulled with the hand on his nape and he relaxed his body as he was pulled into the comforting, encircling arms of home.

Dean did not say anything, he just held him, slowly rocking him and stroking his hair. He should have felt awkward, there had never been this kind of contact in their family once they'd grown but, right now, Sammy needed it.

As he got himself under control, his hands slid to Dean's sides then across his back. His head surfaced to rest on a shoulder and holding on for dear life, he relaxed once more. Still his brother said nothing just returning the pressure of the hug. Sam pulled back to look closely at his face, to study it.

For once Dean was serious and quiet. That's what made him do it or rather allowed him to do it. Cupping Dean's face with his hand, still looking intently at the concern and rare stillness, he leant forwards and kissed him securely on the lips wanting to express everything that he had previously tried to explain, argue and convince him about finding a way out of that foolish deal.

Dean tensed up obviously shocked but thankfully did not pull or push him away. Sam was so grateful, for that would have broken his heart. Looking at his brother once more, he could not say anything and just held his breath for he dreaded that Dean would not understand or even worse ridicule him. "Sammy. What is it?" spoken softly.

"You can not leave me."

"I don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice. We just have to find a way. You have to stop pretending you're alright with this." Dean's head dropped, letting out a resigned breath. "No. Dean!" holding his face with both hands, this time forcing it up. "If you don't give a shit about yourself, do you care about me?"

"Cause I do. You know that!" angry pulling away from the hands. If he didn't, he wouldn't be in this mess.

"Then don't give up. Fight. We will find a way to break this deal of yours."

"I can't," pained.

"Why the hell not?" Sam was getting angry. They did nothing but argue about it, knowing the out come of that pact he'd made at the crossroads, and arguing about why he had done it. That's if Dean was even willing to speak about it at all.

Dean held him by the shoulders, shaking him in emphasis as he said, "I just can't. Trust me on this. I can't do anything."

"Well I can. And I damn well will! I will not let you go to Hell and become one of them. Not because of me or for me. I can not lose you!" and if Sam had ever doubted that his brother loved him, the look he was receiving now would have put him to shame. Dean looked gratified but scared, all mixed up with love.

Sam's anger fled and he just stilled, studying Dean's face, the eyes so clear and piercing, admiring the fine features whilst trying not to see the scratches and dirt marring his appeal and his eyes settled on the lips, slightly parted, waiting for them to speak.

"Dude. You're not going to kiss me again are you?"

Damn, he really wanted to, not entirely sure why now but he did. He smiled, "You so need a shower. And toothpaste wouldn't go a miss either."

Dean stood and, hand in Sam's face, pushed him roughly to the bed and laughing walked off towards the bathroom, peeling off the filthy clothes and dropping them to the floor on the way.

Sitting up once more, Sam pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them again but this time smiled turning into a laugh as he heard, "Shit!" as Dean had obviously just seen his reflection. Then "Sammy! We need a truck load more rock salt. He is going down!" Then the sound of the water being turned on. ===

"You hungry?"

Looking up from the laptop, Sam realised that yes, he could eat and nodded going back to the screen. "You need to put something on those cuts." The brief glance was all he could take seeing the angry red slashes and bruised flesh. He studiously concentrated on the newspaper archives he had found on the net ignoring the sounds as Dean, clad only in the thin motel towel, moved towards his bag.

Riffling through the duffel he asked, "Where's the kit?"

Sam looked over and found now he could do nothing but stare at the play of muscles across his brother's back as half kneeling, he searched the bag. His attention now caught, his gaze slowly travelled along Dean's spine then down past the towel, which failed in the job of being big enough for its current purpose.

Getting no reply, Dean discarded the bag and twisted around then looked down at himself curious as to what Sam was staring at, "What?"

"Huh?"

"What you staring at?"

Sam's eyes slowly moved up Dean's body from the exposed thigh that had had him intrigued. Making eye contact, he came back to himself and quickly covered his embarrassment by standing and moving to his bag to retrieve the first aid kit they constantly had need of. "You're bruised all over. What happened last nite while we got separated?" turning his back and fumbling, trying to get the tube of antiseptic cream.

What the hell was wrong with him? He had been fixated on the tightness where the towel was stretched across Dean's buttock and the gap as the edges failed to meet and cover the tense thigh as he crouched there.

Dean used the bed to pull himself up, groaning under his breath at the ache in every part of his being, "Trees!" he groaned, "Trees with roots."

"So, you got all that from tripping over tree roots?" Sam asked incredulous.

"Yes," Dean answered disgustedly, "and the couple of times that manic giant in the plaid threw me at them!"

Sam winced as he turned to look at him, holding out the ointment. Dean just sat on the bed looking like his battery had wound down. Moving closer, Sam took the top off the tube and squeezed the white cream onto a finger then tilting Dean's chin up, gently began smearing antiseptic on the largest cut. "Sorry," he added at the sharp hiss of sucked in breath before him. He knew the stuff stung like hell but it would do its job.

Dean let Sam continue even though it hurt and he was taking so long about it. He studied the intent expression on the younger man's face. There was something up with him. Something more than the usual that is and he was trying to figure out what it was exactly. The fingers touching his face were delicate and Dean was convinced that there was no way he had that many scratches and scrapes as Sam's fingers were everywhere. They traced the line of his cheekbones down to his jaw and lingered on that place below the ear where hard bone gave way to softness.

The cream had been forgotten as the fingers moved up and outlined his eyebrows. The concentration on Sam's face fascinated him and he had to admit that he was enjoying the attention on his abused skin. It was delicate, soothing and relaxing. His eyes became heavy and settled on watching Sam's mouth as he bit at his bottom lip in an unconscious manner that suddenly brought Dean slamming back to the weirdness of the situation.

He jerked 'awake' startling Sam who stood there looking pole axed. He wasn't sure who was the more shocked but the moment was awkward and Dean coughed getting up saying, "Food. I need food," and proceeded to dress, quickly grabbing clothes from his bag but convinced without turning around that he was being watched.

How was he going to justify his actions to Dean when he was uncertain of them himself? Sam could pretend like he had not just been caressing the face before him and was just applying ointment but that was so obviously untrue. He had just done it. No thought, no reasoning, just let his fingers have their will and Dean looked to be aware but had decided just to ignore the matter as he stood there impatiently.

Dean was waiting for an answer and as none was forthcoming repeated a bit more harshly than intended, "Well? You coming or not?"

"Where?" confused, embarrassed but also relieved that he was speaking to him still.

"To get something to eat, duffuss!"

"Sure," and grabbing up jacket and laptop, Sam had to hurry to catch up as Dean almost fled the room. ===

TBC…