Disclaimer – Not my characters, I just use them improperly.

You like? You don't like? Review and tell me why! (Constructive criticism only please, if you don't like the subject, don't read the story.) If you haven't read Full Moon, Fast Cars and Cracks in the Glass yet, you'll probably want to read those first or this probably won't make sense… Betaed by the wonderful Phx :)

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Chapter 5

Dean sat with his head in his hands, that damn armchair of Missouri's trying its best to devour him. He'd relocated to the living room to avoid the questions, the arguments that were just now starting.

His dad had called, and he'd told Dean to go hunting.

He sucked a sharp breath in through his nose, rubbing both hands over his face.

His dad had also said something about Sam. Sam's not… Sam's not, what? Sam's not safe? Sam's not protected? Or something worse?

A gentle knock on the open doorframe surprised him into looking up. He was even more surprised to see Missouri standing there instead of Sam. She waited until he waved her in; polite for someone who'd been ready to accuse him of assault half an hour ago. He watched her warily, didn't trust her sudden nicety at all. But she stepped in quietly, seating herself on the sofa and carefully arranging her skirts around her.

"I have a lead on where you might start looking for this demon." She said suddenly, lifting her head and meeting his eyes. "A friend of mine, Tony, he lives down in Wichita. He specialises in Judaeo-Christian demonology."

Dean cocked his head to one side, frowning. "How is that gonna help me find the demon?"

She rolled her eyes, looking heavenward. "Honestly, you and your father; it's a wonder you can get anything done, it really is." Dean swallowed down his irritation and nodded at her, telling her wordlessly to get to the point. She let out a theatrical sigh before continuing. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. None of you do. You're just reacting – and doing a terrible job at that, from the looks of things. You boys think everything can be solved if you wave a gun around."

"Are you just trying to piss me off here, or do you have something useful to say?"

"What I'm saying is, stop and think for once. What do you know about this demon? What is it trying to do? You don't even know its name. Maybe if you took the time to learn about it, you might find something of use to you."

Dean scowled. "So what you're saying is, while the demon is here in Kansas, possibly trying to hurt someone, and while my dad and Caleb might be in trouble, I should waste time and effort finding out what the demon's goddamn name is. Yeah, I can see how that would be useful."

Missouri's mouth tightened. "Well, I just thought that a lead, any lead, might be better than sitting around here doing nothing. But maybe I was wrong." She gripped the arm of the sofa and made to get up.

Dean closed his eyes, his teeth gritted. "Wait." Missouri paused, looking over at him with expectant eyes. He let out a heavy breath. "Where is this guy?"

She smiled like she knew he was going to give in. "I'll get the address."

"Hey." He stopped her before she could leave the room. She turned and looked at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "How come you can't find this demon? With your…powers, I mean."

"Because it doesn't want me to." She said softly. "Don't you think, if I'd been able to look for it, I would've?"

He shrugged, feeling spiteful. "I don't know, maybe I thought you just didn't want to get involved."

She turned to face him fully, her fists tightening in anger by her sides. She opened her mouth, shut it again a moment later like she was biting back a retort. Dean inwardly smiled. When she did speak, it was calm and measured. "Are you going to be leaving for Wichita today?"

"Yeah, I guess." He nodded. "As soon as me and Sam get the car packed up. It shouldn't take us more than a night to drive down there."

Missouri blinked. "You're taking Sam with you?"

"Well, yeah." He said, the duh in his voice obvious. "What else would I do with him?"

"I just thought…oh, never mind. I'll go find Tony's address for you."

Dean knew he should let her go, let her leave the room before he wound himself up even tighter. But some masochistic part of his brain caught hold of his mouth, and he found himself stopping her again. "You thought what?"

"Well, I thought Sam would want to finish his training first, before he tried facing off against a demon as powerful as the one after you boys is."

He barked a laugh. "We're just going to see some guy, aren't we? Not 'facing off' with any demons. We'll be back in a few days."

"If you say so." Missouri said, her voice blunt. "But what if the demon tries to come after him? I can try and put some wards on your car, I suppose, but they'll never be as strong as the wards around this house."

John's unfinished sentence replayed again in Dean's mind; Sam's not…

"You think I should leave him here?"

"I think you should do what's best for Sam." Missouri said, a sharp note in her voice. She turned on her heel and sweeping out of the room before Dean had a chance to replay. He drew in a breath, pressing his head into his cupped hands again. A headache was niggling at his temples, and he was reminded of Sam's headaches. His most recent, which ended with blood pouring from his nose.

The last time Sam saw the demon, he started haemorrhaging from the brain. Dean had promised himself a long time ago that he'd never let anything hurt Sam so bad as Jim Miller had, not while he was with Dean. But that demon had hurt Sam, and Dean had been powerless to stop it.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted the tang of blood. He had no idea how his father had intended that sentence to end, but Dean could find his own words. Sam's not getting hurt like that again. Sam's not going anywhere that's unsafe.

Sam's not coming with him.

Sam caught up with Dean as he reached the top of the stairs. "Dean!"

Dean closed his eyes, stopping where he was. Of course Missouri wouldn't keep her mouth shut, let him explain to the kid himself.

Sam caught his arm, spinning Dean around to face him. "Missouri said you're leaving! If you think you're going anywhere without me-"

"Look, Sammy-"

"No! You're not going without me, okay?" Sam looked honest-to-god terrified, his eyes wide and unblinking. "Dean, please!"

"Sam, I gotta do this, man. This guy Missouri knows, he might be able to help. I can't just sit around-"

"Okay, then I'm coming too." Sam pushed past him, his mouth set in a thin line. Trailing after him into Sam's bedroom, Dean grabbed him by the shoulder, his other hand coming up to cup the kid's face.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. You gotta stay here. You've got to deal with this psychic stuff, and that's got to come first. Look, I'm only gonna be gone a couple days. It won't even be that interesting." Dean said. Sam's hands reached out to fist in the front of his shirt, like the kid was trying to physically stop him from going. It was the first time Sam had let his guard down long enough for Dean to read every emotion in his face, he realised. It made him ache to see it.

"If it's not gonna be a big deal, then why do I have to stay here? It won't kill me to take a couple days out of training."

"Because, Sam." Dean felt exhausted, like he'd been wrung out and awake for days.

"Don't give me that! You can't just decide stuff like this without even consulting me!"

The final word was punctuated by a poke to the chest that made Dean sway backwards. Like an electric shock, it lit a sudden burst of anger in him. "What? I thought that was our new thing," he spat the word out like it tasted bad, "doing stuff by ourselves. Y'know, keeping each other out of the loop?"

Sam paled. "Dean, I said I was sorry-"

"Yeah, well." He bit his lip, looked away. Margaret had been right, he knew – Sam hadn't intentionally set out to hurt him by not telling him about his dad's call. Starting an argument over it now wasn't helping anyone. It might make it easier to leave Sam if they were fighting, but he'd regret it as soon as he was out of sight of the kid. He sighed and sat down heavily on the bed, his irritation deflating. "Look, Sam, I'm not trying to-to punish you or anything. But my dad told me to hunt this thing. He said I should."

"You didn't hear exactly what he said." Sam took a step into his space, his eyes pleading. "Maybe he was telling you not to hunt it."

"I can't take that chance, Sammy. You know that. If the demon's here, going after some other kid or thinking up a way to come after us…" He trailed off, rubbing a hand through the shorn hair at the back of his neck. "I can't just sit by and do nothing. Not if there's a chance to stop it happening." He looked up, meeting Sam's wide-eyed gaze. "I'm not gonna try and kill it by myself, okay? But maybe this guy can, I don't know, find a way to track it down. Find some other way to stop it."

"Don't you think if there was another way, your dad and Caleb would have found it by now?" Sam knelt in front of him and put one hand on his knee, his head upturned like he was receiving Holy Communion. "They've been hunting this demon a lot longer than we have, and so far the only thing they've found that even stands a chance at working is the Colt. Which they have with them. If you start trying to track it, maybe it'll…maybe you'll get hurt. I don't want you to get hurt, Dean."

The unshed tears in Sam's eyes made him look unreal, a porcelain doll of a boy. Dean gritted his teeth so hard they ached.

"I can't do nothing, Sam." The words sounded worse than useless even as Dean said them.

"Then I'm coming with you." Sam said, standing. His fists were clenched by his sides, determined, but his face was white and scared. Scared for Dean.

It nearly broke his heart to turn away from the kid. "You're not coming." He said, almost lightly. There was silence, and Dean busied himself by picking up his duffle and shoving the few clothes he'd left littered around the room inside it.

He was ready for the anger, the yelling, but when Sam spoke again it was with tightly reined fury that almost physically burned.

"You are not leaving without me."

Dean forced a nonchalance into his tone that was so far from what he was feeling it was practically alien. "Yeah, I am. See, you've got to stay here and do your thing, your psychic thing, and I've gotta do mine." He risked a quick grin in the kid's direction, unable to meet his eyes for more than a fraction of a second. "Besides, I'm pretty much useless here as it is. Better if I have something to do. I think Missouri might be ready to beat the crap outta me, and it hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet. Give it another day and she'll be burying my body under those pretty flowers that you like so much, princess."

"Oh, don't you do that." Sam said, and Dean could feel him pressing up behind him. "Don't you pretend this is all fine and dandy, like you're just going out of town for a few days."

Dean shrugged, keeping his back to the kid and his hands busy with balling up odd socks. It didn't surprise him when he was whipped around and bodily thrown into the nearest wall.

Sam's face was tight with anger and barely concealed terror, and those extra inches of height he had on Dean were in full use now he wasn't conscious of hiding them. "Dean, just…" His mouth worked on soundless words, half-thoughts. Dean could see he was out of rational arguments.

Pulling away felt like pulling out his own fingernails, but he forced a calm he didn't feel. "It's gonna be fine, Sam. I'm not gonna do anything stupid, and I'll only be gone a couple of days, tops. If this Tony guy can't find any signs of the demon, I'll work on tracking down dad and Caleb. And we needed to get fresh supplies anyway; we're almost out of ammo for the handguns, and I know you need a new whetstone."

"So this is a shopping trip with a few extras?" Sam's voice was flat but Dean decided to play along anyway.

"Sure." He grinned brightly.

Sam threw up his hands suddenly, spinning on his heel. "God, you're…"

Whatever he was apparently provoked an emotion too strong to put into words. Dean watched Sam as he started pacing the room, back and forth in restrained bursts of energy, fierce and angry as a caged animal.

Sometimes Dean could lull himself into thinking Sam was just a kid, just the sweet boy he'd met at Elmstead High, shy and small and inconspicuous to everyone who wasn't Dean. It made him feel selfishly glad because he got to keep this incredible person all to himself, keep every one of those brilliant grins, and it made him feel like the centre of the universe every time Sam looked at him. But then something would happen to remind him of Sam's other side, the hunter that hid under his skin, ready and capable of killing with his bare hands. It sent a shiver down his spine to see this Sam, too powerful to be contained in a tiny room, too strong to be touched.

Dean reached out and touched him anyway.

The hand on his arm seemed to melt all of Sam's anger. He sagged into it, a kid once more, and Dean found himself holding Sam up with an arm looped around his waist.

"Why can't you just stay here if you're only tracking it? You could call Missouri's friend on the phone!"

Dean closed his eyes, briefly pressing his lips to the elegant swell of Sam's cheekbone. "Sam, you know I can't. I can't sit on my ass while the demon might be out there, hurting someone. And besides, you know what it's like, doing research. I have to be focused. And I think if I started pinning shit to Missouri's walls, she really might kill me." The gentle humour only made Sam press closer, his face hidden in the curve of Dean's neck.

"I don't want you to go. Please."

"I'll be back as soon as I can, Sam. I promise. I won't be more than a day away from you." Dean wrapped his other arm around Sam's back as he spoke.

Sam's voice was tiny and muffled by Dean's skin. "Only research."

"Only research." Dean echoed. Neither of them acknowledged the blatant lie.

Sam sat on the front porch of Missouri's house, staring blankly at the patch of yellowing lawn. Dean was packing up the trunk of the car. He couldn't bear to watch.

"Hey, Sam, you mind giving me a hand over here? I think there's about a month's worth of your junk lying around in the back seat." Dean's tone was light, like he was going off on vacation or something. Only Sam could see the shadow behind the false brightness in his eyes, the taut skin around the corners of his mouth as he forced that plastic smile, all for Sam's benefit. Sam heaved himself up to a standing position with an effort.

Missouri had wisely decided to stay inside while Dean got going – Sam wasn't sure what exactly had gone down with the two of them earlier, but he thought it probably wouldn't be a bad thing if they both got a little distance from each other. Of course, he'd rather they got that distance by staying in separate rooms, but whatever. It wasn't like he could talk Dean out of this, no matter how much logic he threw at the situation. If there was one thing Sam had learned in all his time with the older man, it was that Dean only applied logic when it was beneficial to him.

He made his way to the sidewalk, and the Impala gleaming black as sin in the brilliant sunlight. Dean looked up with a grin as he came to stand beside him, holding out a black trash bag. "Here, hold this. I swear, we gotta start tidying up in here instead of just tossing it all in the back." He bent down into the car, emerging a second later with armfuls of empty plastic bottles and Burger King wrappers and half-eaten candy bars.

"Hey, also, I can't find my bowie knife, you know, the black one? D'ya think it could've got mixed up in your duffle by mistake?" Dean asked, taking the now-full sack of rubbish from him and knotting the end. "'Cause I'm pretty sure I stuffed it in the trunk when we left New Hampshire, but maybe I put it in your duffle thinking it was mine?"

Sam swallowed hard. "Yeah, maybe."

"Can you check? I don't wanna leave without it. I mean, I know I probably won't need it, but still, never hurts to be prepared, right?"

"Yeah. Sure."

Dean flashed a smile his way and turned back to his car, leaving Sam to drag his feet back up to the house. It was stupid, but there was a tiny part of him hoping that if he delayed long enough, Dean would decide not to go, to leave it until tomorrow, or the day after.

"Sam? While you're checking, can you also see if you picked up my green-checked shirt, too? You know, the one you said makes me look like a lumberjack." Sam thought he was probably supposed to laugh at that, remember the good old days or something. But honestly, the whole thing seemed a little too much like something he would see on daytime TV. Dividing up the stuff, going separate ways, it all equalled leaving.

Sam bit his lip and walked slower.

Dean heard footsteps coming up behind him as he was attempting to force a crossbow into the wheel well, and getting ridiculously hot and sweaty doing it. Why they were even carrying a goddamn crossbow around in the first place was a mystery to him; it wasn't like they'd ever used it on a hunt. But Sam had some weird fixation with standing in fields and hitting targets with various projectiles, even though his aim was pretty much perfect already. So the crossbow stayed. Of course. He sighed and gave up, slamming the trunk shut as the footsteps approached him.

"Did you find my-" He began absently, cutting himself off as the unfamiliar-sounding footfalls registered. He glanced back to find Missouri standing on the sidewalk, her arms crossed over her chest and her expression impassive. "Oh. Sorry. Thought you were Sam."

"I assumed as much. I just came out to give you this." She handed him a scrap of paper, a Wichita address neatly printed on one side. "It's Tony's address. He owns a used bookstore, you'll find him there most of the time. I'll call and let him know to expect you in the next day or so."

Dean took it, mumbling a quiet 'thanks'. Missouri seemed to be waiting to see him off, standing with her hands clasped chastely in front of her like a schoolgirl. The silence became awkward after a moment and Dean shuffled on his feet, wishing she would turn away and let him out from under her even gaze.

Sam's reappearance at the door of the house was a relief, and Dean eagerly called out to him. "Hey Sammy. Did you find them?"

Sam stopped at the little white gate fencing off Missouri's front yard, gripping the wood with one hand and staring at it like it held the answers to all his problems. His hair fell forward into his face and Dean's fingers itched to push it back. "I found the bowie knife, but I couldn't find the shirt. You can borrow one of mine though."

He didn't look up as he held out the material; it revealed itself to be a plain blue button-down. Dean remembered this shirt, remembered buying it for Sam in the week after Elmstead and the werewolf. All of the kid's clothes had been left in the wreckage of his car, and he had been living in one pair of jeans and Dean's too-small tee shirts. Sam had been holed up in a motel somewhere, still healing, and Dean had slipped out while he was sleeping and bought him about twenty different button-downs in various sizes, blushing pink when he handed them over to the kid because he was pretty sure none of them were going to fit and then they'd be stuck with twenty useless Walmart shirts. Sam had modelled them all for him, tossing the ones that would do onto the spare bed and striking stupid poses in the ones that were now being used as rags to clean the guns.

Sam's favourite was the blue shirt he was holding out; a little too tight around his shoulders and long on his arms so only his fingertips poked out the ends of his cuffs. Sam wore the thing at least once every week, and it had been washed so many times that the collar was soft and floppy - Dean's own favourite place to absently stroke over while they watched TV on the same motel bed or when Sam fell asleep with his head against Dean's shoulder in the car.

Dean reached out and took the offered shirt, his eyes pricking suddenly. Wrapped up in the material was his bowie knife. "Thanks kiddo."

He stood there for a moment, scrap of paper in one hand and cloth-wrapped bowie knife in the other, feeling like there was something he'd forgotten. Something he should do. But the car was packed up, the streets were quiet after the morning rush, and Missouri and Sam watched him from in front of the gate. Waiting for him to leave. He spun on his heel suddenly, tossed the knife in the front seat and stuck the paper under the passenger side sun visor.

"Well, I guess I'm ready to go then."

"Have a safe journey." Missouri said, smiling at him as if she was glad to see him gone. She turned away after a second, making a pretence at examining her flowerbeds.

Sam took a faltering step towards him, stopping a foot away and glancing to one side. "So, uh…"

"Yeah." Dean bit his lip. How was this supposed to go, saying goodbye to Sam, even if it was only for a few days? How was he supposed to act?

Awkwardly he reached out, hooking a hand behind Sam's neck and drawing him close. "Uh, so look, I'm only gonna be a day away at the most, and you can call me, y'know, whenever. In the middle of the night, if you want."

Sam met his eyes, imploring. "Dean, what the hell are you even planning to do? I don't even know…are you trying to find the demon? Trying to find your dad?"

Dean looked at the floor, his hand hot against Sam's skin. He opened his mouth and shut it again, all his words deserting him. The truth was, he didn't know what he was planning on doing. Honestly, he doubted he'd find any signs of the demon, especially if it knew they were after it. But he couldn't just abandon his dad either, ignore his order. "I'm just gonna be doing some research." He said hollowly.

Sam let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging. "Yeah. You'll call? If you need any help?"

"Of course I will." He tugged Sam in, feeling the kid's arms wrap around his waist. The hug went on a beat too long to be friendly, and the quick kiss Dean pressed into the dip of Sam's jaw would have given them away to anyone passing by, but he didn't much care what the neighbours might think right then. Breaking away, he caught Sam's shoulder with one hand, squeezing it tight for a moment before letting his arm drop. "I'll call you when I'm at a motel for the night, okay?"

Sam put on a smile for his benefit. "Sure. Drive safe, okay?"

He grinned back, feeling sick to his stomach. "Always do."

A lingering beat, and Dean turned towards his car, climbing in. He didn't look at Sam, not until he was pulling away from the curb, and then it was only to flash that false grin at the kid, capturing one last image of his face before it was gone. In the rear-view mirror, Sam could have been anyone standing at the side of the road, but Dean kept his eyes trained on the silhouette of his body until a corner took him out of sight.

"Don't worry about Dean, sweetie. He can take care of himself." Missouri's words were cold comfort as Sam watched the Impala pause at the corner, turn, and disappear like it was never there.

He nodded anyway, his eyes still on the last spot he'd seen the car. "I know."

Missouri touched his shoulder gently, her hand on the same spot Dean's had fallen. She rubbed his shoulder-blade, a repetitive motion that against his will felt reassuring, consoling.

They stood like that for several minutes, staring at the end of the street. Some of Missouri's neighbours called out to her, throwing what Sam would bet were concerned looks his way, if he cared to turn and examine them. But Missouri didn't ask him to move, and he was grateful for that. He wasn't ready yet, Dean might come back.

But Dean wouldn't come back, he knew. Dean was gone, off on his own adventure. Without Sam by his side, and might Dean decide he likes it better that way? Sam shook his head, finally turning away. Missouri's smile was the first thing he focused on.

"Shall we go inside? Margaret's probably done making the iced tea by now, and I think we could both use a glass."

He smiled back, the expression stretching his skin to its limits. "Yeah. I'd like that."

They walked up the small garden path together, Missouri's arm tucked into his. It was only when they were inside, the door latched shut behind them, that Sam felt he could finally breathe again.