A/N: First off, thanks soooooo much for all those who reviewed the last chapter – I was so nervous and you guys were all super nice and I loved hearing what you all thought! You all seriously rock! Part 2 is almost finished now, maybe one more chapter - hopefully you like the rest enough to tune in to Part 3!

BTW, for those of you who missed it, the guy who thinks an angel is talking to him through his TV in the last chapter was none other than Jimmy Novak. This story takes place in Pontiac, Illinois, which is where Jimmy lived and Cas spoke to him for a while before Jimmy agreed to be his vessel :-) Not related to this story but I haven't been able to bring Cas into the storyline yet and was getting a little impatient :-)

CHAPTER 20

"Dean!" Sam repeated, grunting under the weight of the now unconscious form in his arms. He half-dragged, half-carried the man over to the bed and lowered him down gently on his back.

Tasha had woken up when Sam first cried out after opening the door and was now pushing herself off the far side of the bed, holding the sheet bunched up in front of her. She stared down wide-eyed at the man Sam as unloaded him on the mattress.

It was Dean. Or at least it sure as hell looked like Dean. Sam didn't realize he was holding his breath as he felt for a pulse on his brother's – his brother's! – neck. His fingers were trembling but he finally found one, slow and steady. He jerked his hand back and let out a deep exhale, standing frozen over the unconscious man for a moment before looking up as he tried to gather his wits.

He caught Tasha's eye. "Is it him?" she stammered, not coming any closer.

Still unable to speak, Sam could only shrug. He finally leaned over and lifted Dean's head, feeling around the skull for bumps or contusions. Satisfied there wasn't a head wound requiring hospital attention, he ran his hands over the rest of Dean's torso, as he had done on many occasions during their hunting days together, searching for blood or broken bones. He found none. He even lifted the t-shirt, sliding it up Dean's chest and gasping at the lack of scars. His brother had been torn to shreds by the hellhounds, his chest and stomach sliced into ribbons, yet the skin was now smooth and unmarred.

He strode over to his duffle and fished through it for a silver blade, holy water, a rosary, and a Taser before making his way back to the bed. Tasha had picked her clothes off the floor and was pulling them on quickly, holding the sheet in front of herself as she did so.

"Do you think it's really him?" she posed the million dollar question again.

"Let's find out," Sam said simply, pouring the holy water over Dean's face.

He got no reaction. No sizzling skin, no waking demon, not even a flinch of pain.

"Not a demon," Sam announced, encouraged. "At least not a low-level one. And it looks like the same clothes we buried him in," he added.

Tasha pulled her phone from her pocket and held it out over Dean's face, nodding to Sam to open his brother's closed eyes. Sam pulled the lids up while she took a couple of pictures and he held his breath while she viewed them back on her phone.

"No camera glare," she grinned excitedly. "Not a shapeshifter!"

"We'll double-check that when he wakes up," Sam cautioned, holding up the silver knife to demonstrate how.

"What's the Taser for?" Tasha asked.

"Doppelganger," he said simply. "Again, we'll have to wait 'til he's awake and healthy for that one but so far…" He let the sentence trail off.

"So far it looks like Dean's back," she finished for him, her eyes dancing with hope. "He must have come through the gate Succky made after all!"

Sam frowned, wanting to believe this was his brother but not quite willing to let himself just yet. He really couldn't open himself up for that kind of disappointment. Tasha, he realized, wasn't being as cautious.

He sighed and placed the rosary on Dean's forehead. He recited a Latin exorcism in its entirety, his voice shaky and laced with doubt. His brother remained peaceful, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm and by the end, Sam found that he too was daring to hope. He gave Tasha a wary smile. "Not a high-level demon either," he pointed out.

She crawled onto the bed and tucked a pillow gently under Dean's head, tracing her fingers down his stubbled cheek as she sat down on the mattress next to him. "You think he's okay?" she asked Sam quietly, not taking her eyes off Dean.

Sam pulled on a t-shirt and sank into the nearby motel chair. "I don't know," he replied, honestly. "I guess we have to wait until he wakes up."

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Two hours later Dean still hadn't stirred. Sam barely took his eyes off the unconscious man the entire time and couldn't shake the irrational fear that if he blinked Dean would be gone. That his eyes were playing tricks on him or that this was just a dream and his brother wasn't really lying four feet from where he sat … alive and breathing.

Tasha was sitting cross-legged on the bed next to Dean and seemed to be of the same mindset for she too was staring down at him, her chin propped up in her hands.

Neither of them spoke much for the first while, each clearly lost in their own thoughts. It was Sam who broke the silence and he did so by voicing his guilt.

"We should have gone back to the mill. It's been two days since we did the ritual. He could have been there for two days," he said. "Hurt, alone..."

Tasha nodded her agreement. "I won't argue with you there," she concurred. "I deliberately didn't mention it when we were searching for the Chupa's lair because I didn't want to go back there."

Sam let out a short, mirthless laugh. "Me too," he admitted. "Just a couple of cowards, huh?"

"Well, I can tell you, I'm scared now."

"Scared it's not him?"

"Scared it's not…scared it is."

Sam gave her a questioning look.

She shrugged. "He's been in hell for two months," she said. "You're the one who told me that people who go to Hell come out demons. Who knows what being there has done to him."

Sam pursed his lips. That thought had plagued his mind constantly while he was trying to bring his brother back topside, every day he failed to do so meaning another day for Dean in Hell. He had wondered on many an occasion how much torture a horde of demons could do to a soul in a single day.

"I think that takes years," he frowned. "Or decades, centuries even. He'll be okay," he said with all the confidence he could muster. "Dean's tough. He's the toughest guy I've ever known. If anyone can push past a tour in hell, it's him. He'll be okay."

She was silent for a long moment. "Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Will he want to see me?"

"What? Of course," Sam gave her a confused look. "How can you even think he wouldn't?"

She rolled her eyes. "He did kinda break it off with me, remember?"

Sam smiled at her. "He knew he was gonna die. If he hadn't had an expiration date…" He stopped midsentence. Now that he thought about it, he had no idea what would have happened if Dean had lived. His brother had admitted having real feelings for Tasha but Dean wasn't exactly the commitment type. Sam didn't know if he was even capable of having a healthy relationship. Too much self-loathing to allow himself something that good. The sad truth was that in all likelihood, if Dean hadn't thought he was going to die, he wouldn't have stuck around Tasha long enough to fall in love with her in the first place.

Then there was the elephant in the room – the fact that he and Tasha had had sex just a few hours ago, that the sheets Dean was lying on were stained with both her and Ruby's orgasms. He swallowed. Jesus, could this get any more twisted and fucked up?

He was admittedly a bit shocked when she brought the subject up.

"You know," she said quietly, giving Sam a guilty look. "I haven't been with anybody since Dean back in Phoenix."

Sam arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"I just couldn't get over him," she explained. "Couldn't stop thinking about him." He saw her swallow before continuing. "Then I find out he's dead and within a week I sleep with his brother," she blurted with a humorless chuckle.

Sam let out a slow, uncomfortable exhale and bit his lip, not sure how to respond.

"Not that it was bad," she said quickly, looking uncomfortable. She groaned loudly. "Ahhgh…this is so messed up!" She rubbed her hand down across her face. "I don't know what to do, what to think, what to expect."

Sam knew what to do - what Winchesters always did. Lie. Dean never had to know. Two hours ago Sam had been thinking he could probably have feelings for this girl if he let himself and now, at the first glimpse of his brother, she was Dean's all over again. Not just in her mind but in his mind too. Ruby had hit the nail right on the head with that one. Dean would always come first, to both of them.

"Uh, let's just chalk that whole thing up to bad timing," he suggested. "A mistake that Dean never needs to hear about, okay?"

He was surprised to see a flash of hurt cross her face and instantly regretted his choice of words. He didn't think of it as a mistake. He had enjoyed every damn second of it and would have done it all over again as soon as she had woken up but right now, it was as if it had happened a lifetime ago. It was now just part of that empty existence he had been trudging through before his brother had walked through the door and given him his life back.

Her hurt look quickly turned to one of relief and she sighed, looking back down at Dean. "You're probably right," she said finally. "At least not for a while. But I really don't see it as …"

She was cut off by a soft moan from Dean as his head rolled sideways and he began to stir. Sam jumped up from his seat to lean down over him. "Dean?" he called, hesitant to place his hovering hand on his brother's face as the unconscious man twitched and jerked in his struggle to find awareness.

Sam's heart skipped at least two full beats before pounding painfully in his chest the second those hazel eyes fluttered open to meet his. "Dean?" he greeted them, somewhat breathlessly. Jesus, it sure as hell looked like Dean. It had to be Dean.

He forced himself to straighten up as he waited fretfully for a reply, giving the man some space to focus his eyes and take in his surroundings in his own time. Tasha had moved her hand to rest very gently on Dean's bicep but other than that remained still on the bed next to him, her eyes wide and anxious. Dean finally rested his gaze on Sam and the wild, confused look instantly left his eyes.

"Sam," he croaked, trying to sit up.

Sam lunged forward to help, steadying Dean's swaying frame as he reached the upright position and swung his legs off the side of the bed.

"Dean," Sam gushed, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his features. "Is it really you?"

Dean's brows furrowed. "No, it's freakin' Elvis," he scoffed, though the sarcasm was as weak as his voice. He glanced briefly at Tasha on the bed beside him but gave no reaction before looking back to Sam.

Sam took a deep breath and released Dean's shoulder. "You realize I gotta be sure it's you," he said apologetically, drawing the silver blade out.

Dean's eyes shot wide in alarm. "Dude, it's me!" he rasped, giving Tasha another quick, wary glance.

"Dean, you've been dead two months," Sam rationalized, not bothering to sugarcoat the situation. "Do you even know that?"

"Two months?" He tried to push himself off the bed but sank quickly back down as his legs clearly wouldn't hold him yet.

Sam nodded. "You were in Hell," he explained. "Do you remember?"

Dean's eyes darkened and his face tensed at the words and Sam regretted his bluntness.

"I remember being Hellhound kibble," he said slowly. "I remember pain and …well, more pain. Then I woke up in this little room in an old mill. I couldn't remember my name at first, but eventually it came to me. I was pretty out of it for a while, maybe a day or two, I'm not sure, but I finally managed to walk towards town and then I saw the Impala outside this motel and I remembered it was my car and then," he looked up at Sam. "Then I remembered you." His voice was choked with emotion at this point and he looked so vulnerable and lost. "You're my brother," he whispered throatily. "Right?"

Sam couldn't help himself. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around Dean, pulling him into a fierce hug. "Yeah," he breathed into the air behind his brother's head. "Yeah, I'm your brother."

He could feel Dean returning the hug, trembling fingers curling around the nape of Sam's neck and he closed his eyes for a second to let his heart expand, soaking in the feel of his brother, warm and real. He stayed that way for what seemed like a long time and his head slowly stopped spinning. Finally he pulled away again, fisting his hand in Dean's collar, reluctant to let go as he reached a full arm's length. Dean gave him a sheepish smile, clearly a bit embarrassed at the display of emotion and Sam let his hand drop.

"I still gotta make sure," he told Dean, wincing apologetically.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I suppose I'd be disappointed if you didn't," he agreed, pushing the sleeve of his shirt up and offering Sam his arm. "Me and Dad taught you better than that."

Dean scrunched up his face in anticipation and looked sideways as Sam reached forward with the knife. His eyes fell on Tasha, who hadn't moved or said a word since he had woken up.

"Hi," Dean said, looking her over with exaggerated appraisal and a cocky smile before turning back to Sam. "Dude, this your girlfriend?"

Sam glanced up quickly at Tasha and didn't miss the shocked and hurt look that passed over her features. "Uh, no Dean," he said as he sliced his brother's arm just below the elbow.

Dean flinched a little at the cut but no more than Sam would have expected. "No?" Dean raised a hopeful eyebrow and grinned cheekily. "Fair game then?"

"You don't remember Tasha?" Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he wiped the blade and tucked it away.

Dean's expression quickly became wary and skeptical. "No…" he said slowly. "Should I?" Before either Sam or Tasha could answer him he gave her a sincere look. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I don't remember a lot of things. It's coming back to me in bits and pieces but there's huge holes in there…" He tapped his head. "Surprises me that I would forget you though," he added, his cocky smile returning. "Please tell me we know each other…intimately."

Tasha returned his smile, though Sam could tell it was a bit forced. She winked at him. "I'll let you remember that in your own time," she told him, letting him off the hook.

"So exactly what do you remember?" Sam pressed, not liking this new revelation. He'd take his brother back any way he could get him, but whole and with memories in tact would have been his preference.

Dean sighed wearily, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Like I said," he shrugged. "Bits and pieces. I remembered my name. I didn't remember my car until I saw it, but then I remembered you." He looked back at Sam. "Now I remember Dad, I remember Mom and what happened to her, I remember we killed the Yellow-Eyed son of a bitch responsible, I remember being on the road with you and Dad, us as kids, a diner in Delaware with awesome cheeseburgers, your smokin' hot prom date, hunting a Black Dog in Vermont, a Poltergeist in Philly that tore you up pretty bad, Meg taking a swan dive out a high-rise window a couple of years ago…all sorts of stuff … it's kinda all over the map in here. Pretty random. And more things keep coming back to me but it's still jumbled right now."

Sam took it all in. "That's probably understandable," he said finally. "I'm sure it'll all come back to you eventually."

"Well one thing I do remember," Dean quipped, "is that alive people gotta eat. What do you say we find us some bacon double cheeseburgers because I feel like I haven't eaten in a month."

"Actually, it's been two months," Tasha joked back at him, getting quickly off the bed. "And there's an all-night Burger King just down the street. I'll go get us some grub." She winked at him. "Extra bacon and pie for the zombie."

Dean grinned back at her. "I like this one, Sam," he laughed. "Tell me we can keep her."

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They let the resurrected man finish his meal and replenish some of his strength before Sam insisted they try out the Taser on him. A well-fed but reluctant Dean finally held out his arm for Tasha to zap him while Sam peered into his eyes. They had it on the lowest setting, but supposedly a doppelganger's eyes turn white if it comes in contact with any substantial electric current. Dean's remained hazel as he hissed through the shock.

Relieved beyond words, Sam finally let himself accept that he had his brother back. He couldn't wipe the grin off his face as the three of them sat and talked and Dean was filled in on how they had managed to pull him out of Hell. Dean asked a lot of questions, his memory clearly still working on a part-time basis. He asked what happened to Ruby and Lillith when the Hellhounds had come for him and Sam told the same combination of truth and lies that he had told Tasha – that he was apparently immune to Lillith's power and that as far as he was aware, Ruby was dead. Dean insisted he didn't remember anything from his jaunt in the pit except for a fuzzy notion of extreme pain and a lot of screaming.

The younger Winchester hung on his brother's every word and studied every movement and facial twitch, mesmerized by the mere sight of him, flesh and bone sitting on Sam's bed. Tasha seemed to be experiencing the same overload of shock, relief, and happiness because she too couldn't take her eyes off him as he spoke. When Dean so much as hinted at a smile, both Sam and Tasha beamed back at him like kids at Christmas time, even if what he was saying wasn't intended to be funny.

Dean only lasted a couple of hours before he was nodding off where he sat propped up with pillows against the headboard. It was past dawn now and the motel patrons were starting to stir, the noise of the traffic outside increasing to a steady hum. Sam and Tasha finally reined themselves in and backed off enough that Dean could lie down. The hunter was fast asleep within seconds.

Tasha sat on the mattress next to him as he slept and Sam sank back into the motel chair by the bed where he could keep an eye on him, checking every few minutes to ensure he was still drawing breath. Neither of them spoke for the entire time Dean was out.

They packed up and left town as soon as he woke up, going through the Burger King drive-thru to get fast food for breakfast at Dean's insistence. He snickered at Sam for giving in so easily and wondered out loud how much his little brother would let him get away with, how long he could milk the whole 'back from the dead' thing. Tasha followed them in her Fiero and Sam was surprised that Dean had not made any derogatory comments about her car. He was even more surprised when Dean started searching through the playlist on the newly-installed iPod and settled on some U2. Not Dean's favorite band but Sam supposed there wasn't much AC/DC or Led Zeppelin loaded on there for him to choose from.

Subtle differences. There were subtle differences in his demeanor; not much, but enough for Sam to think the past two months had affected his brother more that he was letting on. Sam could tell Dean was hiding things, keeping things to himself rather than sharing and suspected the hunter remembered more about his time in Hell than he was willing to admit. Dean was trying too hard to act as if things were back to normal and they could just pick up where they left off and get back to hunting. Sam suspected he needed some time to pull himself together and suggested instead they go to Bobby's for a little R&R.

Dean shook his head. "Na," he said. "Let's not tell Bobby just yet. Let's just keep it on the down low for now, kay?" He gave Sam a tired look. "It's not every day a guy comes back from Hell and I just don't want to be in the Petri dish right now."

"As if Bobby would look at it that way!" Sam scoffed, though slightly relieved since he didn't particularly want to face the cranky mechanic's wrath for disappearing like he had after they had buried Dean.

"Yeah, well, I don't remember a lot about Bobby yet," Dean said quietly and Sam relented, feeling guilty for pushing. He realized it must be hard to go through what Dean had and then get shoved back into your old life with only half your memories in tact. He decided not to press and to take it easy on Dean until he was back to his old self. At least Dean remembered him.

"I want to keep it just you and me," Dean continued. "You, I know I can trust."

"And Tasha?" Sam asked curiously. Dean still had no memories of her when he had woken up this afternoon. Did he want her to leave? Sam hoped not because he was fairly sure that would devastate her. Sam could see how much she wanted to throw her arms around Dean and let him know how she felt and although she was restraining herself admirably and playing it cool, Sam could see it was hurting her that Dean didn't remember her.

Dean threw a cheeky grin sideways at him as he took a huge bite out of his cheeseburger. "Oh, she can definitely stay," he said with his mouth full. "But dude, you gotta tell me, was I tapping that?"

Sam snorted his disapproval but grinned despite himself. "I'm gonna let you two figure that one out," he said evasively. Surely his brother's memory of Tasha would return soon.

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The next two days were like being on a roller coaster for Sam. He was ecstatic to have his brother back but the 'subtle differences' soon started to accumulate and began to eat at him. He ordered his burger without onions. He took a half-hour shower and didn't complain when the water ran cold on him. He laced his boots left foot first. He put cream in his coffee. He rested his right hand on the steering wheel when he drove instead of the left.

They had ended up in Lincoln, Illinois for no particular reason except that was as far as they had been able to drive in what little was left of the day. Tasha went into the motel office and rented two rooms, as they had done most nights while she had been with them before. She was quieter than she usually was and Sam found her studying Dean whenever the hunter wasn't looking, much like he was doing. It wasn't openly awkward that Dean didn't remember her because he was acting quite cavalier about it, clearly not realizing the nature of their pre-mortem relationship. Sam knew it had to be bothering Tasha and approached her about it while Dean was in the shower the following morning.

"You okay?" he asked sincerely. "About the whole memory thing?"

Tasha dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "I'm sure he'll remember at some point," she answered sounding positive. "He keeps remembering new things all the time."

"Does he…" Sam paused, not sure if he was being paranoid. "Does he seem different to you?" he asked cautiously.

She gave him a long, thoughtful look before answering. "Yeah," she admitted with a sigh. "But it's just little things. Like rolling his cuffs twice instead of three times and not tapping his boots for roaches before he puts them on. Most of that stuff was probably more habit from memory than instinct so it makes sense he'd do it different. As for the other stuff, I think he's just trying too hard to pretend he's okay. I think … I mean after being in Hell … well, that's bound to affect someone, change them. Right?"

"I suppose," Sam agreed hesitantly. "I think he remembers more than he's letting on."

"About Hell?"

Sam nodded.

"Yeah, I kinda agree. It's hard to tell because he acts differently around me than he used to because he doesn't know that he used to talk to me…" Her face took on a defeated expression. "Like, really talk to me."

"Give it time," Sam told her sincerely. He genuinely wanted her and Dean to find their way back together again. As much as he had begun to think he could be happy with her, he knew deep down she belonged with Dean and he wanted his brother to be happy far more than he wanted it for himself. He was surprised she hadn't just come out with it and told Dean about their history but she had said she didn't want to put the added pressure on him of a relationship he didn't remember. Especially since they hadn't been together when he had died anyway. "He'll figure it out," he assured her.

She shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, Sam," she said. "I couldn't be happier that he's alive again. But if he's different on the inside," she tapped her hand just above her left breast to better demonstrate what she meant, "then maybe this Dean won't feel the same way the old one did. Ever."

Sam noted the sadness in her brown eyes. She was thinking that maybe this time round, Dean wouldn't fall in love with her. "He's still Dean," he assured her, though still not a hundred percent convinced of his own words. "His taste in food and music may have altered slightly but his core is the same. He's still the cocky jerk you fell in love with." He grinned at her, hoping to cheer her up. "I mean, he did totally fake that tripping incident with you at the diner last night when he copped a feel."

She returned the laugh and threw a pillow at him just as Dean emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. "Oooo," he grinned. "A pillowfight? Don't girls usually do that in lingerie?"

Tasha laughed and Sam couldn't help but feel better at the familiar playful tone of his brother's suggestive words. Maybe he was searching too hard for that bad crap that always came along with anything good that ever happened to a Winchester. Maybe for once, he should just stop looking a gift horse in the mouth and allow himself to be happy that his brother was back.

They found a hunt that day, a poltergeist gig in the immediate area that seemed fairly routine and spent the daylight hours preparing hex bags to plant in the corners of the house in question. The ritual went down with only a few minor hitches which included Sam being thrown out the back door into the yard and landing in dog poop, Tasha getting half the contents of the family's pantry dumped on her including a big bag of flour, and Dean pretty much getting groped by the form of the old lady poltergeist.

They stumbled back into the Winchester's motel room still laughing. Sam called first dibs on the bathroom, claiming shit definitely trumped flour and old-lady funk. He changed and scrubbed his soiled pants in the sink, breathing in the wonderful sound of Dean laughing. Smiling at himself in the mirror, he found himself unintentionally eavesdropping on the conversation in the room.

"You know, I remembered something about you," his brother said.

"Really?" Sam could hear the hope and joy in Tasha's single word.

"Yeah. You have the cutest little mole on your left inner thigh." Dean's voice grew hushed but it was a cheap motel with hollow doors and Sam could still hear him. "Right … here."

There was a moment of silence before he heard Tasha's reply. "And do you remember how you came to know that interesting tidbit?"

"Well, I can tell you," Dean replied, adopting the tone Sam recognized as his predatory 'looking for a lay' tone. "I am really enjoying the images that are coming back to me."

Not sure what sprang him into action, Sam rattled the door handle to give them the heads up before stepping quickly back into the room, an uneasy feeling spreading through him.

"Hey," he greeted them casually. He nodded to Tasha, who was standing just a couple of feet from Dean, her hair still coated in flour. "Bathroom's free," he told her.

"Uh, thanks," she said, giving Dean a beaming smile before passing Sam on her way to wash up. The elder Winchester watched her intently the whole way.

As soon as the shower started, Dean let out a long groan. "Now that," he said, gesturing towards the bathroom door, "Is a nice piece of ass."

"Piece of ass?" Sam repeated sternly. "She's more than that, Dean. Don't talk about her that way. Don't you remember anything about her and you?"

Dean gave him a long, hard look. "I remember some," he said slowly. "Enough to know I care about her." He grinned. "And enough to know I'd like to make some new memories with her." He glanced towards the bathroom door. "Maybe I should join her in there."

Sam clenched his teeth. There was something about the way Dean was talking, the way he was acting, that just wasn't quite Dean. He was getting an uncomfortable feeling and really, really didn't like the way his brother had been eying Tasha. Like a piece of meat, not like he truly remembered what they had shared.

"Dean, just … just take it slow, okay?" he said, putting on his best sensitive-Sammy act. "She's been through a lot and she …" He wasn't quite sure what his reason was for wanting distance between Tasha and Dean right now. "She's vulnerable."

Deep creases appeared in Dean's forehead. "To me?" he accused. "You're worried about me hurting her? How did I become the bad guy?"

"It's not that," Sam said quickly. "Just, please, give it a couple of days, okay?"

Dean rolled his eyes but shrugged. "If I didn't know you better Sam," he said, "I'd think you had a thing for her." Sam gave him a sharp glare to portray that wasn't the case and Dean relented. "Fine," he said, raising his hands in the air in defeat. "I'll leave her alone."

Sam plopped down on his bed, fully clothed and on top of the covers, as was his usual sleeping habit of late. Dean paced for a few minutes before doing the same. By the time Tasha emerged from the shower, only the dresser lamp was on and the Winchesters were both quiet. She looked back and forth between them both and smiled as she picked up her weapons duffle from the table and slung it over her shoulder.

"Guess I'll see you in the morning then," she said softly before turning to head to her own room.

"Good night," both men said in unison, watching her as she made her way to the door.

Sam lay awake for a long time, listening until he noted the sound of Dean's breathing even out to the slow, steady breaths of slumber. He just couldn't let go of the nagging feeling he had that something was wrong with his brother. That the Dean next to him wasn't the Dean he'd grown up with. He felt a pang of guilt shoot through him and worried that his motives for interfering with Dean's obvious intentions tonight weren't entirely above suspicion. Could the doubts he was feeling be the product of jealousy? The green-headed monster affecting his perception?

He couldn't deny that two nights ago, he was contemplating being – really being – with Tasha. He hadn't been surprised when she had turned immediately back to Dean upon his return, which she clearly had, even if Dean didn't realize it. But he just couldn't shake this bad feeling that gnawed at him whenever he looked at his fresh-from-the grave brother.

Then a solution hit him. It meant leaving and he didn't like the idea of leaving Tasha unprotected but… that thought was interrupted when he scolded himself for even thinking it … she didn't need protecting from Dean! He glanced over at the bed next to him. Dean's eyes were closed and he seemed to be sleeping soundly. Sam sat up and, without making a sound, pulled on his boots and his jacket and slipped outside.

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It was well into the night by the time Sam made it back to the small field outside Pontiac. He grabbed a shovel from the trunk and trudged through the dark to the small clearing.

The wooden cross was still there, the grave seemingly undisturbed. He got to work right away, jabbing the shovel into the dirt three feet in front of the cross. Twenty minutes later, he struck wood. He quickly scooped the rest of the dirt off the plain wooden box he and Bobby had buried his brother in, dropping to his knees to shove the last grains away. He took a deep breath before pulling the lid open, pleading with the powers that be that he would find the box empty.

It wasn't. Dean was still in there, two months rotten and wearing the same clothes Sam had buried him in. Sam's heart lurched fiercely with shock and renewed sorrow.

That thing in Lincoln wasn't his brother. His brother was dead. His brother was still in Hell.

And that thing was still in Lincoln with Tasha.