"Look at this," and he turned the screen to his brother but held onto it as Dean reached out with a hand still holding the 'sandwich'. "Watch it! You're dripping stuff," he said disgusted but Dean just grinned and took another bite. Sam sighed in a, 'I give up' manner then said, "Fine. But look, its newspaper archives from way back. Do they look familiar?"

Dean peered at the screen then nodded but not too certainly. "It's a bad picture but it could be them," he admitted. "It looks old," then he went back to demolishing the 'thing' in his hands.

"Nineteen fifty seven. I thought their clothes were dated so I started in the forties." Dean cocked an eyebrow at the fashion comment but with a mouthful, missed the opportunity to mock. Sam carried on oblivious, "A teenage girl and her younger brother went missing, Alice and David Johnston. Went walking to visit grandparents and never got there. I think it's them."

"You think they've been screaming at people all that time?" Dean could still hear the shrill noise and dreaded to think what had happened to make the girl sound like that.

"Could be. They weren't the first. A few more teenagers and early twenties went missing in the three years before them. Both male and female but they were the last before a local farmer who had been questioned a couple of times also went missing."

"Let me guess. The disappearances stopped?"

"Yep. Until nineteen eighty three. Then people have been vanishing at the rate of one or two every couple of years. The last, a local high school student, Tomas Harvey. That was over seven months ago."

"You think we need go and see his family?"

Sam was not keen, "I can't see much point. We'd only upset them and they wouldn't tell us anything different than to the Sheriff's Department. It's not as if they wouldn't have done all they could. And after half a year ….. ?" shrugging.

Dean had to agree, also relieved. He hated lying to, dealing with grieving families. He focused on a nagging detail. "What happened then? Why eighty three?" fixing Sam with a suspicious look. It might just be a coincidence but who knew?

Sam just answered him with another shrug, "So you think matters were taken in hand and the chief suspect just happened to disappear?"

"Makes sense why he's still here doing what he does. No trial or justice."

"Bet someone thought it was justice," Sam said nodding in agreement pausing to consider while Dean finished off his meal then ventured, "My bets the Sheriff. They had him, Burt Glummer, in several times but couldn't prove anything."

"Got a picture?" asked Dean cleaning his hands on a paper napkin.

Sam shook his head, "Lived on a small holding that backed onto the woods," spoken like a question as if wanting Dean to agree that that was their 'spirit'.

"Sounds like a candidate to me," he had to agree. "Don't suppose you found out where he's buried?" it had been too much to hope for. Sam looked glum shaking his head so he added, "You did good. When'd you have time to find all this out?"

"While you were in the shower."

"I didn't take that long."

Sam laughed at that, "You take forever! Then there's the hair!"

Dean grinned, "Looks good though. You gotta agree."

Yes, he thought to himself, he supposed he did, it did, but he was not going to tell his brother that.

"Speaking of which. When you gonna get a descent cut?" and Dean raised eyebrows at him.

"The day you eat something remotely healthy," thinking his hair was safe.

"Hey it had vegetables in!" mock defensive, pointing at the empty plate.

"Dill pickle does not count as a vegetable," as if speaking to a child.

"They're green. Sort of," deflating slightly.

Sam sighed again and sat back rubbing at his eyes. He was tired and had no idea how he was going to be able to cope with the hunt tonight.

"Man. You look how I feel," Dean told him, "What say we rest up tonite and go after it tomorrow? He's not going anywhere."

"You sure?" surprised as Dean was usually all about rushing in and getting the job done.

"He's been around this long."

"No. I mean about waiting. You promised that girl."

Dean looked to be having second thoughts but he ached so much and it was not that long since Sam had been knocked out by that ghost axe. It had sounded solid enough and Sam had been out for a hell of a long time. "No. You…We need to rest up."

Decision made, he called for the check. =====

Sam slammed his laptop shut in frustration then immediately checked to see that it was okay. "Nothing then?" he looked over at Dean lying on the bed, beer in hand, watching some dumb cop show on TV. He tried to think of a sarcastic comeback but he was too tired and just shrugged, "No."

"Want a beer?"

"No," just as tiredly and stood up too quickly causing stiff muscles to complain. He arched back, hands in the centre of his back.

"Come on old man. Lighten up. Have a bottle," and Dean reached down to get one from the floor for him, eyes still on the TV.

'Why not?' Sam thought and moved across to accept the bottle held out to him. "Funny," as it moved every time he made to take hold of it. Finally relenting, Dean let him have it and Sam dropped onto the bed as if felled making Dean grunt as he nearly lost his own beer.

"Please tell me you ache as much as I do," Sam pleaded.

"Yep. Hey…" as if he'd just had a bright idea but Dean had been thinking about it for a while, "we could order in a couple of masseuses. That'd be good. Maybe get a little relief?" and he turned his head, waggling his eyebrows at Sam.

"Asshole."

"I'm serious! A massage would do us a world of good and you could really do with some action. Stop you being all tense and pent up for a change." The pillow hit him hard. "Hey! Watch the beer!" but he was laughing.

Sam lay back regretting the loss of the pillow and closed his eyes thinking that Dean was right. It had been a long time since he had had any 'action' or, as he would prefer, been intimate with someone. And now he set to brooding about the lack of contact, that human touch that could be so light but could be felt clear through to your soul.

Restless now and somewhat pissed off, he turned onto his side and tried to get comfortable but with everything sore, he just slumped back and stared up at the ceiling. The sound on the TV changed as his brother flicked through the channels, his attention span lessening the more he flicked through the distorted channels then at last settled on one, "Now that's more like it."

And Sam groaned at the noises coming from the screen. "Oh my G … Please. Dean? Do you have to?"

"Awe come on! Watch it, it'll do you good. See now look at that. That's what a woman is 'n' ya see what the man's doin'? Now that's called fu…"

"Shut up!" and jumping up off the bed, grabbed the remote from his brother and moved to unplug the TV.

"Sam! Come on. Give me a break! I thought we were supposed to be relaxing here?"

"Fine!" and he threw the remote back then stormed off into the bathroom.

By the time he had gotten ready for bed, the TV was back on but on a music channel with the least relaxing cacophony he could think off. He stood and looked down at Dean exasperated. He had to put up with it in the car but in the 'bedroom' as well? And how the hell had he managed to get the channel in the first place?

"What?" asked in all innocence by his brother sprawled out on the bed still wearing his boots.

Sam gave up and getting undressed, climbed under the covers and prayed for the oblivion of sleep but it was not to be so, turning stiffly, he laid on his side and watched Dean who cradled his beer and sang along to the videos badly, oblivious to his regard.

Sam found he could not help but smile at the seemingly contentedness of his brother. At times like this it appeared that it didn't take much for him to be happy. Dean did not crave material possessions or recognition, rarely bought anything other than food and ammo and now was relaxed, foot tapping along to the music, his singing getting worse but thankfully quieter and looking as if all was right with the world.

Of course it was not. This was just a very brief interlude in the nightmare that had become their lives. Did Dean, he wondered, actually hanker after a normal life? If things had been different right from the start, no demon, no death, no life on the road, would they be as close? He doubted they could be but would they not still be in each others lives? He tried to imagine what Dean would be like. Married, job children maybe? But it was all pointless wondering. This was just a respite and tomorrow they had to deal with Glummer.

Sudden quiet other then the noise of Dean attempting to get up. "Dude, you shoulda let me phone for a masseuse. I ache from here to Sunday," he complained and eventually, on the third try, Dean managed to get up and headed to the bathroom. Sam had to smile at the continual running commentary on all the various aches and pains coming from the small room. The door slammed but his voice continued on, muffled through the wall, then Dean was back in the room, still complaining.

He could not help but watch as Dean began to strip. Sam knew he should not be interested but he was. He wanted to see just as earlier he'd been fascinated by a view of his thigh. "Shit Dean!" and he sat up at the sight of the bruising all down the left side of his brother, livid purple and burgundy. It brought a pain to his heart and a fist to his belly.

Dean looked around and down at himself, nodding and commenting simply, "Ur…huh," and carried on stripping off his pants. The bruising continued down to his briefs and lower.

"Oh, Dean!" he could think of nothing else to say. Dean looked at his brother, lifting one of those brows again. Sam sounded so sorrowful and looked about to cry. He was going to make some crack about him being a big girl but the expression on Sam's face, as he slowly moved towards him, kneeling on the bed with hand out unsteadily to touch his side, stilled his tongue. He hissed at the contact bringing Sam to look him in the eye and stop staring at the bruising, "I'm so sorry, Dean."

"Sammy? It's not your fault. You've nothing to be sorry for." Dean tilted his head to the side wondering why Sam should think so.

"I shouldn't have let us get separated in the woods. I should have followed you."

"It doesn't matter now." This was getting a bit afternoon movieish so he added, "You better do damn well as I tell you tomorrow though bro'!"

Sam looked him in the eye and solemnly nodded and agreed, "I will."

Dean laughed, "Dude?" making Sam flinch then retreat looking not unlike he used to do when he would not let him have his way when they were kids. He felt bad about denying Sam anything, much as he had then, but this had been getting a little intense. He turned away and bent to get a t-shirt to sleep in and could not contain the groan as once more everything complained.

Sam could not stand to hear that noise anymore, the noise of his brother in discomfort. "Lie on the bed," he instructed as he once more went to get their first aid supplies. He turned holding a tube of muscle ease and waited, looking impatient as Dean just stood there, shirt in hand, staring at him with one of those 'you got to be kidding me' expressions. "Lie on the bed," he repeated sounding annoyed, "I am not going to listen to you groaning and moaning all night. Get on the bed and I'll give you that damned massage!"

"I don't think so!" Dean said aghast.

"Get on the bed now!" through gritted teeth. He had wanted to do something to ease Dean's pain, pure and simple, but of course Dean had to be downright awkward and make everything into a joke or sneer and it frustrated him. It made him damn well angry.

Dean wanted to argue and was about to say something about keeping his girlie hands off him but the tone of his voice and that look he was receiving made him think better of it and he acquiesced by gingerly lying down, full length on his front, leaning on his forearms.

Sam sat carefully next to him and repeated his actions of earlier with the antiseptic. "Jeez Sam! That's cold."

"Stop bitchin'"

"Me?" incredulous, twisting around then, really wishing he hadn't, collapsed down finally giving in as Sam gently spread the cream across his shoulders.

Sam was watching intently as his fingers moved across the lightly freckled skin. He massaged the tense shoulder muscles causing Dean to groan and then begin to moan, "Oh that's good. Sammy. That's really good," making him smile. He continued as Dean sank further into the bed and found he enjoyed the feeling under his hands.

He had not really planned this exactly but had wondered what Dean's skin would feel like while staring at that thigh. He had found himself remembering that glimpse all day, while on the net, while in the diner, while waiting for Dean to come out of the bathroom.

He added more cream and slowly continued kneading Dean's flesh down his back and right flank, avoiding the bruised area thinking a cream that is designed to heat up tired muscle would not be the wisest choice for damaged skin. He continued to press along the spine with his left hand, his right cupping around Dean's side, feeling the ribs under the stretched side as Dean's arms moved up to either side of his head.

This had not seemed such a good idea but Dean had to admit Sam knew what he was doing. He could feel the tension seeping out of his back and shoulders as the cream began to heat on his skin and his brother's fingers down his side felt good. As they continued to press, knead and gently pinch his side, he felt himself relax and begin to drift. Fingers circling in the small of his back just under the waistband of his shorts made his hips move.

Breath held, Sam dared to let his hand continue to massage, sliding the elastic of Dean's briefs down slightly, his fingers spreading out onto his hip, palm on his buttock. His left hand began to move upwards, back to his brother's shoulders and the back of his neck. He did not want Dean to stop him. He wanted to explore even though he had a nagging voice in his mind telling him he shouldn't be doing this.

Dean was watching from the corner of his eye, his head turned to the left on the pillow. He had been enjoying the hands on his shoulders and back whilst letting his mind drift. The continued attention pressing his hips into the bed had made him relax then a part of him take an unexpected interest. It was not until a hand enclosed his butt cheek, pushing around onto his hip, that he really noticed how much interest his body had acquired. He had opened his eyes and saw Sam's face so intent on his actions. He had his bottom lip trapped between his teeth again.

This was weird, way past weird, it had gone into wrongness but how to get out of it with out embarrassing them both? After all, it may be Sam who had decided to 'touch up' his brother but it was said brother who was getting excited in his shorts. Just a purely physical reaction he was sure but what was up with Sam? Okay, that was a touch too far as the hand on his hip circled down around onto his thigh then was dragged back up over his buttock, clasping it.

"Sam?" he spoke as if sleepy and rubbed his face against the pillow continuing with the ploy.

"Yeah?" distracted, not really listening.

"Would you do my shoulders again? It felt really good," and yawned.

"Sure"

And Dean was relieved when the hand left his ass and both were used to give, he admitted, a damn fine massage to his shoulders. He began to relax his body once more but his mind was thinking furiously. When he'd told Sam that he needed to get laid it had been in jest but now he was convinced. He had to get his brother laid and quick. He was obviously in need of that kind of attention and the way he was going, if he didn't do something soon, all that pent up frustration might just well be turned on him as the closest available body.

No. That was stupid. There was no way his brother had fixated on him like that. What the hell was he thinking? He knew he was attractive, damn, he was devastating, but come on? This was his brother he was thinking about. Damn, that felt good. Where had Sam learnt to do that? Dean pushed his head down as fingers crept up his neck into his hair. He could not help letting out a small moan as he twisted his body, his leg bending, moving up until its progress was stopped by the figure sitting there. This was wrong, so wrong but it felt so good.

Sam let his left hand follow the line of Dean's shoulder down his arm then back to lie gently as his other fingers continued to push through the freshly washed hair. He was not really thinking much at all other than the feel and textures under his hands. He had no ideas or plans, just enjoyed the contact in the stillness of the room.

A leg bumped him from behind disturbing the calm and he realised with amazement that Dean was now enjoying his ministrations. He must be for he was letting it continue. His eyes came back into focus and he actually saw what he was doing.

He was suddenly very self conscious and did not know what to do. Just stop? That would make it appear he knew there was something wrong. Well, there was he admitted. He was touching his brother and what's more his brother seemed to like it. Sam shifted slightly where he sat, not wanting to lose contact, but having to accommodate the part of him that was definitely letting him know he was getting enjoyment from this.

The fingers had stilled their movement in his hair so Dean turned his head to look at Sam wanting to know why. He was just sat there looking back at him, looking very nervous. Damn, this was awkward. If he were to push Sam off he would feel all dejected and become sulky and if he said anything that would leave the way open for them to, 'talk about this'. Sam always wanted to talk about stuff. If he did nothing though, what would Sammy do?

"Turn over and I'll do your front,"

Dean knew that that was not a good idea. There was no way Sam would not notice what his ministrations had done to his body. "No. But thanks. That was great. I think I could really sleep now," it sounded lame but he hoped Sam would take the hint without the rebuke.

"You sure?"

Oh, "Yes," he was sure. Sam was disappointed he could tell but really, just what the hell had been happening here? This was new and he hoped an aberration. He watched as Sam slid from the bed and, grabbing the covers, crawled beneath without another word or glance, his back to him. Slowly and carefully, Dean did the same wary not to lie too close, watching Sam all the while, wondering just what had been going through his mind.

Crap, crap, crap! Had Dean realised what he had been doing or had he drifted off into sleep as Sam had supposed? Whichever, at least he had not reacted violently or worse, ridiculed him as his hands had continued to explore Dean's body all on their own without any real conscious thought. And why? Sam had caught himself watching his brother more often lately. He knew he was worrying about the seeming inevitability of losing him much more now since that trickster had given him a taste of what it would be like without him.

Watching him die over and over again had been beyond nightmare. It had been an excruciating reality for over a hundred Tuesdays. The only saving grace was that Dean had remained unaware. He could not bare the thought of it being a reality and not just a 'trick'.

The light went out and Sam buried his face in the pillow, clutching it tight. He was cringing at what he had done and the realization of what he had wanted to do if Dean had let him continue. What was wrong with him? Why had he started having all these fantasises about touching Dean, being with Dean as lover not brother? It was recent, very recent, just the last couple of months but enough to have driven him to distraction and to be mesmerised by a mere glimpse of thigh.

And Dean thought he was the one going to Hell. =====

TBC….