Greetings oddballs!! I am continually amazed there are people who enjoy this as much as I do. Thanks again!!

Chapter Twenty

Sam tried to concentrate on their research, but it was a losing battle. He was too preoccupied with other things, like archangels taking a special interest in them. He sighed, leaning back in the hard chair and pressing his palms into his eyes.

"Sam?" Dean's smooth voice drifted through the room, soothing his frayed nerves.

"Sorry Dean," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I just can't concentrate."

"Obviously," Dean snorted. Sam cracked his eyes open. His brother leaned past him to read the computer screen. Right now, viewing Dean without his brother watching, Sam could note the differences. Years of worry seemed to have fallen away, stripping those early wrinkles from around his eyes. His skin not only seemed more youthful but almost shone with a healthy radiance. Dean's eyes danced as he read the computer screen.

"Quit staring," Dean snapped, "it's creepy."

Sam forced his gaze back to the monitor. "Find anything?"

"Yep." Dean pointed to an article. "Right here. Ben was buried in a cemetery not too far from the apartment building." Bright green eyes turned on him. "Ready?"

Sam shrugged. "As I'll ever be." Translation: Hell No. All Sam felt like doing was curling up on that filthy mattress back at the house and sleeping for a month. By the expression on Dean's face Sam knew his brother did not buy it for an instant, but they were going. Dean must want this hunt over as much as he did.

He followed his big brother out to the car, enjoying being in Dean's wake. Yeah, all the crap with their so-called abilities changed everything, but sometimes the more things changed the more they stayed the same. Dean literally put himself between Sam and Gabriel. The Gabriel. Gabriel the angel of death and the vengeful hand of God. He wondered if Dean realized who she was.

"Yeah, I knew," Dean said, sounding a little too casual for his liking.

"But if you knew…" Sam protested, folding his legs in and pulling his car door closed.

"Trust me, Sam. I did the right thing. It could have gone much, much worse. She wasn't even after you this time," he said, slamming the door a little harder than normal.

"This time?" Sam asked. "Wait, you mean she was after you?" Anger flowed easily these days and now it bubbled up from that bottomless well, seeping through his defenses and pooling in his extremities.

"Easy, tiger," Dean warned. "It's not like she's here now anyway. Besides," one finger waved in Sam's face though Dean's eyes never left the road, "I don't want you so much as looking at her, you hear me?"

"Dean, I'm not just going to run away…" Sam began to protest when Dean cut him off.

"Yes you are. She scares Mike, therefore we are steering way clear of her." That was the tone Dean always used when he was really serious, when he insisted on following Dad's orders.

"Wait a minute," Sam said as a new realization struck him. "Mike warned you to stay away from her, didn't he? When?"

Dean shrugged, refusing to look over, although that was pretty normal these days.

"When Dean? If he stopped time, Gabriel would have known." Sam pondered that in Dean's silence. "New trick?"

He waited for Dean's response. "Wheat. The guy has wheat in his head."

Okay, that was not anywhere close to what Sam expected. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing but wheat," Dean continued. "Miles and miles of wheat, all in his head." One hand waved in the air near Dean's ear. "Weirdest thing I've ever seen, and that's saying something."

"In his head?" Sam wondered. "You were in Michael's head?"

"I think he likes you, Sam," Dean said. Before Sam could respond to that, Dean continued with, "Really. He can't lie, and in his head I don't think he can mask his emotions either." Dean's fingers drummed on the steering wheel.

"Oh?" Dean flinched. Yep, his brother said a little more than he intended. "What emotions couldn't he mask, Dean?"

Dean shook his head. "I probably shouldn't… He's worried about us. That's all."

"If that's all, then why shouldn't you tell me?" Sam demanded. God, Dean really was turning into Dad! Was his brother actually resorting to that need-to-know crap?

"Dude, relax." Dean's hand flew out, slapped him in the shoulder. "What's eating you, anyway?"

The instant his brother's hand made contact all those bitter emotions, the anger and resentment, shattered. Before Dean could pull his hand away, Sam grabbed it. It was starting to be clear that the longer they had any kind of physical contact, the longer it took for those dark thoughts to come back. Right now, Sam wanted more than anything to hang on to the light Dean represented.

"Uh, Sam?"

"What?" Sam clutched Dean's hand in his, knuckles turning white with the exertion.

"Can I have my hand back?"

Sam shook his head. "Not yet."

Dean cleared his throat. "Well, uh, would you mind at least letting some blood flow in there?"

Sam felt Dean's fingers wriggle in his grasp. He loosened his grip, sensing Dean's relief. Had he hurt his brother? Sam watched Dean's emotions for signs of pain or fear, but he only saw regular Dean. He could tell his brother was concerned, but would not ask. Sam experimentally slacked his hold on Dean. Those dark thoughts and emotions rose instantly. Panicked, Sam slammed his fingers around Dean's wrist and the darkness scuttled away, hiding in the recesses of his subconscious.

"Sam, we are not walking into a graveyard at night holding hands. I'm sorry, but it's just not happening," Dean's words intruded on Sam's thoughts.

Sam wanted to laugh at that, but the thought of releasing Dean was enough to hold any jocularity at bay. "I'll be okay by then," he insisted, lowering their hands to the seat between them. Sam kept his fingers wrapped loosely around Dean's wrist for the duration of their drive. He noticed Dean stealing glances at him while driving through town, something Dean had not done since driving his car off the road, so he knew Dean had to be really worried. Sam wanted to reassure his brother that he was fine, there was nothing wrong. Unfortunately, he did not think he could do that convincingly, even though he was the brother who could lie.

Okay, this was officially the weirdest thing ever. Sam never, ever, even when he was a little kid, willingly held hands. Now Sam clung to Dean's hand like a freaking lifeline. Yeah, that was enough to freak him out, not that he was going to let Sam in on that little secret. They needed this hunt to be over. Now. He knew exactly how tired Sam felt, like he needed to sleep for a hundred years, but not now. Right now they had to finish this hunt and move on.

There was something about these brothers who were bonded in death that made Dean's skin crawl. He glanced over at Sam again, and except for the fact they were holding hands like a couple of girls, his brother appeared perfectly normal. Ha. Like that word should even apply to them anymore. Dean knew, deep in his gut, it was the older brother who was causing all the trouble at that abandoned apartment building. Not that he could really blame the guy. He understood Sam's reluctance to do a full salt and burn, this whole thing hit way too close to home.

What if there was another way? Dean pulled off into a grocery store parking lot.

"Dean? What are you doing?" Sam asked, sounding so much like he did when they were just kids, before they were out hunting things that hid in the dark.

"Thinking." Dean stared out the front windshield. "What if we summoned them? The brothers?"

"Why?" The pressure on his wrist shifted as Sam turned to look at him. "What good would that do?"

"Well, I was thinking that if the younger brother was anything like you, he'd be plenty pissed at Jerry for all of this." Dean drummed the fingers of his free hand on the steering wheel. "He might be able to stop it, get them both to cross over."

"Dean," Sam sounded so weary and tired it made Dean want to yawn in sympathy, "it's the younger brother doing it. I'm sure of it."

"Why?" Dean did not bother toning down his eyes when he looked at Sam this time, wanting to see all that he could. "How could you possibly be sure of something like that?"

"You're, uh…" Sam motioned to his own eyes.

"Tell me something I don't know, like why you think it's Ben," Dean demanded.

Sam winced, looking at Dean through his long bangs. "Because older brothers are always protective and younger brothers are destructive." Before Dean could respond, Sam's hands flew into the air to wave expressively. "I mean, just look at me! I ruin everything! I broke up our family, I screwed up my education, Jessica died because of me, Mom and Dad died because of me, and …"

Before Sam could go any further, lightning struck just outside his door. The pavement only feet from Sam's window sizzled and hissed with the dispersed energy. Sam lifted his head to glare at Dean. "Do you think you can stop interrupting me for five damn minutes?" he hissed.

Dean clenched his hands closed, realizing only then that Sam was no longer hanging on to him. Sam seemed to be immersed in a dark cloud of self-crimination and doubt.

"I might, if you were making any sense," Dean snapped back, unable to control his own anger. His brother could be really dense for a genius. "If it isn't both of them working together, then it's Jerry. Ben is probably trapped in there and he's trying to protect his little brother from the big, bad, scary world." He leaned in close, until he could smell Sam's breath. "I'd probably do the exact same thing."

Sam turned his head away, mumbling something.

"What was that?" he demanded.

Sam shook his head, staring out the window.

"So I was thinking, before I was so rudely interrupted," Dean continued, "that if we summon them, maybe little brother can work his little brother magic and get big brother to cross over."

Sam sighed, shrugging. "Yeah, whatever. I just don't think it will work."

"Why not?" Dean asked. "I try all your hair-brained ideas."

"I didn't say I wouldn't try it, Dean!" Sam shouted, his voice way too large for the inside of the Impala. "I just said it wouldn't work!"

Dean sucked in a breath and held it. He did not know if this was his anger, Sam's, or both combined, but it was pretty obvious it was taking over. Dean closed his eyes in an attempt to rein in all of his emotions, put them on lock-down before they blew up his beautiful car.

"We need a backup plan," Sam said, breaking the silence. "In case it doesn't work."

Dean nodded, risking opening his eyes. "Salt and burn?"

Sam nodded back. "Fine," he breathed out.

"You know what we need?" Dean asked, nodding at the store. "If you don't feel like going in, I can do it. I still have some cash."

Sam shook his head. "I'll go. You, uh, are coming, right?"

"Of course," Dean said, pushing his door open. These moods of Sam's were getting worse. Dean could not imagine what might be causing them, except that they were dark. Really dark. As he walked by Sam into the store, where his thoughts might be safe just from the fact they were surrounded by people, Dean tried to understand where these moods were coming from. As they picked up a few more canisters of salt, he remembered the darkness that fought him when he tried healing Sam.

Dean froze, his hand clutching the salt. What the hell was that? And why had Mike been so relieved Sam could see the healing light? Was that what all this crap with Gabriel was about?

A hand in his face distracted his thoughts. "Dean!" Sam hissed. "Hello?" Sam's hand waved in his face again.

Dean batted the hand away. "What?"

"Dude," Sam's voice dropped to a whisper, "you totally zoned out there. What happened?" Sam glanced around suspiciously. "Was someone here?"

Dean shook his head. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"Well, that's a first," Sam snapped, but he still looked concerned. His dark eyes weighed heavily on Dean.

Dean shook himself, punched Sam lightly on the shoulder. "What do we still need? Candles?"

Sam nodded slowly. "And lighter fluid."

"Meet you at the checkout," he said, moving away from his brother. Dean could feel Sam's eyes on his back as he looked for the right aisle for candles. When he located the right aisle Dean ducked into it, wanting to escape Sam's penetrating gaze for a few seconds. He found some white candles that should work.

"Dean?" Mike's voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.

"Not again," he grumbled, looking around.

A large man wearing stained blue coveralls with wild, dark hair rounded the corner. He smiled when he saw Dean, brilliant blue eyes glowing softly. "So you think that's it, huh?" he asked, motioning to the candles.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe. Sam thinks I'm crazy." He sighed. "He's probably right. Sam's the one who usually comes up with this kind of stuff."

"Don't sell yourself short, now," Mike chastised, a frown marring that perfect face. "What would Bobby say?"

Dean shrugged. "Probably that we're both idiots and that…" He stared at Mike. "How do you know about Bobby?"

Mike stepped closer. That used to intimidate Dean, make him feel like he was in over his head. Now he felt secure, confident, the closer Mike came. It was kind of weird, but at the moment it did not bother him. Mike smiled and warm feelings washed over him. "I know your father, remember?"

Dean gave a short, self-conscious chuckle. "Right. Forgot about that."

Mike shook his head, wild hair bouncing around. "You're really something sometimes, Dean. I've been thinking about dropping in on him, just to talk. Would you have a problem with that?"

Dean arched an eyebrow at him. "Are you asking permission?"

Mike shrugged. "There are rules. I figure Bobby probably falls under your protection? Like Sam?"

Dean shifted one shoulder. He had no idea he could just declare people under his protection.

"You can," Mike replied with a nod.

Dean gave him a strong look. "You know I hate that."

Mike blew out a breath. "It's not like I'm doing it on purpose anymore, Dean." He gave Dean a small shrug. "I really can't help it. So? Is he?"

Dean studied Mike for a moment before he answered, knowing full well what his answer would be. "Yes." Dean looked deep into Mike's eyes and an understanding of the type of conversation Mike wanted seeped into his mind. "And yes."

Mike's eyebrows lifted. "So I can go talk to him?"

"I said yes. Now, are we missing anything else?" His eyes scanned the shelves in front of him. He snagged a couple of packages of batteries for their flashlights. "Gonna wait long enough for me to warn him?"

Mike laughed. "Nah. What would you say?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, give me about twenty minutes anyway, so I can call him."

"Fine. Thanks, Dean."

When he glanced that way again, Mike was gone. Dean checked his watch. He only had twenty minutes before Mike showed up at Bobby's. He tried not to look rushed as he headed over to meet Sam by the checkout.

Sam was already in line when Dean joined him. Sam gave him an odd look. "Something happen?" he whispered.

"You're driving," Dean said simply, adding his purchases to Sam's. "I have to call Bobby."

"Why?" Sam looked at him quizzically. "Want to run this by him?"

Dean had not thought of that. "I could do that."

Sam dogged him all the way out to the car, but Dean just waved him off until they were safely inside the Impala. "Mike is going to pay Bobby a visit and I want to warn him first."

"Why?" Sam asked, openly staring at Dean.

Dean stared back. "I don't think Bobby would appreciate an archangel arriving out of the blue without some warning."

"No," Sam shook his head, hair whipping across his eyes, "I meant, why does Mike want to see Bobby."

"Oh." Dean paused in searching through his cell phone list for Bobby's number. "I don't know. I didn't ask."

"What!" Sam slammed his hands on the steering wheel.

"Hey!" Dean leaned forward, getting in Sam's face. "I'm still not too happy about the dash, don't you dare screw that up, too."

Sam turned guilty eyes on the two imprints in the dash. "I'll fix that. As soon as I figure out how."

Dean ran a hand over his head. "Just tell me what's bugging you."

"Why didn't you ask Mike why he wants to talk to Bobby?" Sam asked, his words measured like he was just keeping his temper in check.

"It didn't seem important," Dean replied, wondering why Sam was so upset.

"Not important?" Sam's eyes bugged out. Dean might have laughed if Sam didn't seem so…disturbed. "How can Mike visiting Bobby not be important?"

Dean shrugged. "He asked first. If he were up to something, he wouldn't have asked."

Sam's mouth flopped open and closed a few times. "Fine," Sam finally said, when he regained control of his jaw. "Call him. I want to hear this." Sam crossed his arms over his chest as he glared at Dean.

"The reason I asked you to drive was so we wouldn't lose any time because of this call." Dean motioned towards the road. "You gonna drive or what?"

Sam huffed loudly, but he started the engine. Dean's finger trembled as he pressed the call button on his cell. He had to wait for Bobby's phone to ring several times before his old friend picked up.

"Yeah?"

Dean grinned. Bobby always assumed he knew whoever was calling. "Hey, Bobby. It's Dean."

"Dean! Well, I haven't heard from you boys in a while. How the hell are ya?"

Dean winced at Bobby's word choice. Funny, certain words never bothered him before. "We're okay," he replied, fully aware of the glare Sam gave him over that one. "Listen, I just wanted to let you know that a friend of mine is going to be, ah, stopping by."

"Is this friend a hunter?" Bobby asked. Well that was an understandable assumption.

"Uh, no." Dean squirmed uncomfortably. "Not exactly, but he does know about it. He's been finding some of our jobs."

"Really?" Bobby did not sound pleased. "How's that?"

Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. He stole a glance at Sam's triumphant face. "It'd probably be better if Mike explains it in person. I just didn't want him to show up without warning."

"Why?" Bobby demanded. Dean could picture his friend's confused face at the other end of this conversation. "You boys aren't dealing with demons, are you? Do you think this Mike guy is possessed?"

"No!" Dean laughed at the suggestion. "No, Bobby, relax. No demons involved. Look, Mike isn't a threat, I swear. Just answer any questions he has, if you want to. Mike can be a real pain in the ass, so I'll understand if you don't even want to talk to him."

"Friend of yours that you don't care if I talk to. Not exactly a ringing endorsement, Dean," Bobby chided.

"Oh, if he gets to be too much of a pain in the ass, just remind him about his harp lessons," Dean suggested, grinning. He wished he could see the look on Mike's face when Bobby said that.

"Harp lessons. Right. Uh, Dean?"

"Yeah, Bobby?" Dean took a closer look at those handprints in his dash. He did not see any way to fix that kind of damage.

"You do plan on telling me whatever is going on, right?"

Dean fingered one of the handprints. "Bobby, can you keep an eye out for a new dash for my car? I think this one needs to be replaced."

Bobby sighed. "Fine. Just promise me that whatever you boys are in the middle of, you'll be careful? Well, okay, I know better than that. Promise me you're being smart about it."

"We're trying, Bobby," Dean promised. "We're really trying."