Lucas was sprawled out on his stomach, coloring while his daddies cuddled on the couch, the movie playing just for the hell of it, since none were actually watching. Dean was too wrapped up in how perfect he felt. His baby boy, the love of his life, the child they had created, all tucked away in a cute little two story they were on their way to owning.

"I love you." Sam's voice brought a warm tingle to his chest.

"I never get tired of hearing you say that." Dean wrapped his arm tighter around Sam, his nose burying itself in the curls at the nape of his neck.

"Good. Cuz I never get tired of saying it."

"Daddy, look!" Lucas trotted up, his latest masterpiece on display. Dean let go of Sam to take the picture, heart melting at the sight of three stick figures, a house, and trees, all under a smiling sun.

Dean opened his mouth to tell Lucas how wonderful it was, when suddenly a splitting pain shot through him. His hands clenched uncontrollably, crinkling the paper. Lucas cried out in anguish, and Sam put a hand on his back to steady him.

"Are you okay, Dean?"

"Dean!"

Dean fell to the floor, not even feeling the hardwood come up to meet him. He felt Sam roll him over, and then Sam's concerned face came into view. His vision blurred a bit as another wave of pain hit him. The ceiling behind Sam wavered and changed to a funny grey color.

"Dean, this really isn't funny anymore. You're scaring me."

"Focus, Dean. Come on, man! Please!" Sam was slapping his cheek gently, trying to get a reaction.

Then, as the ceiling turned back to white, Sam decided to switch to rubbing his cheek instead, hoping the softer approach would work. "Baby, please wake up. Please."

"Wake up, Dean. WAKE UP!"

Dean came to in a familiar bed, hard mattress, tacky wallpaper, and the distinct scent of old paper and dust. He tried to sit up, but just couldn't find the strength. Sam was right there for him, easily slipping an arm around him, the other bringing a glass of water to his lips.

"Take it easy. You were under for about a week, man. No idea how messed up you actually are."

Dean gulped half the glass, then pushed it away. "S-Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean. I'm right here. We got you back."

"Back from where?"

Sam moved pillows and propped Dean against them so he could scoot back out and talk to him face to face. "Another warehouse full of Djinn."

"As in multiple?"

"Yeah. Six of 'em." Sam looked towards the bedroom door, thinking about Bobby asleep on the couch. "Bobby had to call in several favors to get enough manpower, but they were all pretty willing to help when we told them how many people were being kept and experimented on."

"What?" Dean's vision blurred a bit, but he blinked and solved that problem. Now if he could only stop the ache in his chest. "They weren't just feeding? And why were they together? They're not pack monsters."

"I know. They had a common interest though: prolonging the life of their captives." Sam brushed a hand through his bangs, pushing the too-long hair back again. "They banded together and started testing, seeing if they could change their venom or the size of the dose. As far as we could tell from their notes, they were pretty successful. They got it to where they could feed off one person for up to two weeks. The only downside was that it was easier for the victim to remember flashes of real life. Kinda like you did the first go around, only more flashbacky instead of just an off feeling."

"The memories showed up like dreams." Dean managed to choke out. Sam asked for more, but Dean tried to keep as much of the dream to himself as he could, telling Sam that they were 'living the good life, no demons, no nothing.' Sam seemed to take this as an acceptable statement and left Dean to his own devices to cook dinner.

Not even five minutes later, Dean shuffled into the kitchen, going to the table and watching Sam putter around. Sam was waiting for him to complain about what he was fixing- a salad with grilled chicken- and how long it was taking. He said nothing though, just sat quietly, watching every move Sam made.

When he was finished, he went to the porch to call Bobby, who was out working on an old Mustang, to dinner. When he came back in, he stopped, surprised to see Dean had set the table for three. He had placed the giant salad in the middle with a bottle of beer at each spot. Sam smiled and set the apple pie he had bought in the oven to warm.

"Thanks for the help, Dean. You didn't have to do that." Sam pulled out a chair and slipped into it.

Dean shrugged as he cracked his beer. "Habit, I guess."

Sam's hand froze on the way to his own beer, a shocked look on his face. "We never eat at the table. And we hardly eat anything that requires a plate."

Dean kept his eyes on his plate. "Yeah, I know, but I was under for a week in your time. It was… years, my time. And since we weren't moving around, I got used to plates and stuff."

"Oh," Sam really had nothing to say to that, and thankfully, Bobby came in at that moment.

"Well, glad to see Sleeping Beauty has awakened." Bobby headed to the sink to scrub up, then took the last seat, cracking open his beer. "How ya feelin', boy?"

"I'm fine, Bobby. Not dead, so that's a bonus, right?" Dean smiled, but Sam noticed it didn't seem quite right. He wisely said nothing.

Dinner was a quiet affair, Bobby and Sam catching Dean up on what had happened to him. He had been captured by the Djinn during a completely different hunt. They had been trying to corner some vampires. They had split up, Dean going East, Sam going West, and then things went blurry for Dean. He had gone right past a Djinn hunting ground, and they had decided he looked strong enough to survive quite a while.

Sam and Bobby had taken so long to find him, because they had formed a pack, setting up several different pick up and drop points. They had a total of six buildings all over the city. Of course, with their luck, Dean was in the last one they checked, the biggest building with the most guards.

They moved to the living room, had a couple more beers, then decided to call it a night. Dean may have been dreaming for the last week, but he was far from rested. A nice hot shower and fresh clothes, and Dean was ready to pass out. Except he wasn't.

Sam went through his nightly routine and was surprised when he came in to find Dean still sitting up, staring blankly at the wall. "You okay, dude?"

Dean snapped out of whatever world he was in and looked at Sam. Sam noticed Dean's shoulders tensed and his eyes widened before he shut everything out and looked right back to the wall.

"Yeah. I'm good. Just thinking." Dean was intensely aware of Sam's every move. He had to stiffen every muscle to keep from watching as his brother- his freaking brother- drop his towel and pull on his boxers and sleep pants. He was frustrated and yet excited that Sam didn't wear a shirt to bed, it being slightly stuffy in the room.

That was when Dean realized they were sleeping at Bobby's. Which meant they were sharing a bed. A queen-sized bed they had shared since they were kids. They used to be able to keep themselves away from each other since they were small and the bed was huge. Now they were huge, and the bed was still the same. This was NOT going to be fun.

"You can do this, Dean. Just keep yourself under control. It'll all be okay." Dean kept repeating this to himself. He had to keep himself to… himself. Sam was not his anymore. Had never BEEN his! It was all in his head. His sick, twisted, messed up head.