Sam let the ambient noise from the bar settle around him like a familiar soundtrack, casually inspecting the tip of his pool cue and reaching for the cube of blue chalk. Dean chewed his lip in mock concentration before announcing, "I'mma bank it, Sam! Corner pocket. Watch me, I can make it this time."

Too loud. Too cocky. A little bit drunk. That was how his brother's voice carried, catching the notice of the players at the next table. Sam stifled a smile and played it straight for the benefit of the hustle they were setting up. He shook his head. "You've never made that shot, Dean. Not even sober."

Their eyes met for a split second as Dean was lining up the shot he wouldn't make. In that instant, Dean's eyes smiled at him without smiling. It was a look he seemed to reserve only for Sam, a silent nod to the volumes of history between them, something secret and shared.

Dean was safety in a life that promised none. He was the only sure and predictable thing Sam had ever known.

Dean was cold, wet skin that slid under his hands. No pulse. No breath.

Sam's own breath caught, suddenly seeing Dean's green eyes go dead and lifeless underwater.

He was about to open his mouth to say he wanted to head back to the room when a woman's voice called out, "Hey, you're that guy!"

Sam and Dean both turned in the direction of it. A short, dark-haired girl in her mid-twenties was looking directly at Sam, her face an open expression of admiration.

"I…" Sam started. "What?"

"At the pool!" she went on. "You saved his life. I saw you go in after him. You were amazing!" She turned to Dean and added, "That was amazing, right? What he did? He saved you!"

Dean grinned, looking as entertained by the girl's enthusiasm as he was by the flush of embarrassment that was creeping over Sam. "Absolutely," Dean agreed. "That's my kid brother! Genuine hero, this guy. Saves lives every day of the week. Don't you, Sam? Not the first time he's saved mine, either."

"Really?" the girl gushed.

Sam glared at Dean, and his brother's grin widened with mock innocence. "Don't be modest, Sammy. Tell her!"

Mercifully, the ringer on Dean's phone went off, and Dean slipped it out of his pocket to glance at the display. "Bobby," he said to Sam. "We better take this. You settle up?" He gave a friendly nod to Sam's admirer on the way out as he picked up the call.

Sam gritted his teeth. "I'm really sorry about that," he said to the girl, reaching into his wallet for a twenty and laying it on the bar.

"What for?" she asked honestly. "Your brother seems really proud of you."

"Oh, I'm sure he is. He just…" Sam struggled to find the words. "That was just him trying to get a rise out of me."

"By saying nice things about you?"

It didn't make sense to try and explain it, that their relationship was a delicate balance of ribbing, banter, favors returned, and things left unsaid that didn't need saying. Maybe other people came right out and said how they felt about each other. But not them. And that was okay, as far as Sam was concerned. He felt the certainty of it without words, in the way Dean looked at him, smiled without smiling.

"Might as well put me on speaker. You're gonna make me repeat this if you don't."

Dean made a face but he clicked the speaker button his phone, laying it on the table in the hotel room between him and Sam. "Okay, Bobby. You're up."

Bobby's voice filtered through the cell, sounding tinny and far away but still as authoritative as ever. "You boys are gonna need to get ahold of a few things."

As he began listing both familiar and unfamiliar items, Sam grabbed a pen and wrote them down as quickly as he could. "What's all this for?" he asked.

"It's a spell. A tricky one," Bobby said. "Now listen. I think you're dealing with a type of water nymph. Normally they're attached to a body of water – you go near it, it'll draw you in. But this one acts more like a moth. Same way a moth is drawn to bright lights, this thing is attracted to love."

"Love?" Dean looked skeptical.

"It makes sense," Sam said. "All of the victims were in close long-term relationships."

Dean brought his hands together to rest under his chin. "So, water nymph, sees two people in love, snuffs one of them out. Why?"

Sam bolted up straight in his chair, his eyes widening at Dean. "Oh, wait. Whoa," he said. "Hold on. That doesn't..."

Dean looked at him questioningly. Sam shot him an intense you-know-what look.

"What?" Dean said finally.

"Dean. It went after you. We're not… you know!"

Dean instantly caught on, his expression matching Sam's. "Oh. No! Bobby?"

"Don't be stupid," Bobby said. "I didn't say it went after people in love. Put it in whatever bro-speak you want, you two idjits are as close as two people get, always have been."

"I'd rather not put it in any kind of speak," Dean muttered. "You didn't see the lip-lock Sam had on me earlier."

Sam reached over and whacked him in the arm, hard.

"Are you both done?" Bobby demanded.

"Ask Sam," Dean said innocently. "He started it."

Bobby cleared his throat and then went on. "So. What I was trying to tell you is, this thing zeroes in on powerful love relationships – whatever kind of love that might be," he added, cutting off the anticipated objection. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Sam shifted in his seat, and Dean pointedly avoided eye contact.

"Is there any way you could use a different word?" Dean asked.

"Look, you get the idea," Bobby said. "And that's not even really the point. It's not the 'l-word' it's after anyway. It's the grief it leaves behind."

Sam swallowed, flashing back to the moment of terrible hopelessness he'd felt when he couldn't find Dean's pulse.

Dean's heart had stopped. Dean could have died. It had meant Dean to be dead, meant to take Dean from him, to leave him without his brother, his safety, his stability, his life.

"It's like a food source," Bobby was saying. "It kills off one half of a duo right in front of the other, and the grief and loss that the other one experiences becomes like a—"

"How do we kill it?" Sam cut in.

"Hang on, son. I'm gettin' to that," Bobby said. "Because that's where the tricky part comes in. To kill it, you're gonna have to lure it and trap it. And essentially starve it to death."

"Okay, we can do that," Dean said. "How?"

"Well." They could almost hear Bobby shrug. "Either of you feel up to dying?"

To be continued.