This fic is pre-fall for Sherlock and in a similar AU where Cas is human, Charlie is their adopted sister (Bobby's daughter) and the Winchesters are just well known hunters, not apocalypse-ending super-hunters. I OWN IDEAS, NOT CHARACTERS OR PLACES.

Chapter III- THE TWO BARS A HUNTER KNOWS

Dean Winchester sat on the creaky motel bed. Several knives, guns and assorted weapons lay polished behind him, strewn with a particular order that only the one who placed them could understand. He was cleaning an iron rod with a smudged cloth when his brother entered the room.

"That ghost put up hell of a fight" Sam laughed half heartedly, dropping a pie on the small table.

"Ectoplasm and everything" He responded with a wince as he wiped some of it from the bar he was cleaning.

"Cas just finished a job and wanted to join us for a while" the tall man spoke through the wall as he washed his hands in the bathroom and ran it quickly through his long hair.

"Fine by me. When's he gonna be here?"

"Early enough to catch a burger before we hit the road tomorrow"

"He got a job?"

"Hoping to catch one, and Dean, you should really keep your phone on"

"What?" The green eyed man sputtered, turning to face his brother who stood in the doorway to the bathroom.

"Cas called you first and you didn't answer" Sam said with a raised eyebrow.

"Is this another thing about me 'getting along' and 'trusting'? Because I trust Cas with my life just as I do with you." The older brother spoke with an indignant tone.

"He answers when you call" Sam noted but didn't have a challenge in his voice because he was too tired for this discussion. He crashed backwards on the checkered comforter of the rundown bed that was like floating on a cloud to the weary Winchester's cramped back.

"Be back soon" Dean sighed, grabbing his keys and heading towards the door. Glancing once back at the bed of weapons, he hooked the 'do not disturb' sign on to the door. He was thinking about heading to the bar he saw a few blocks away, but something made him hesitate at his baby's shiny, black door. He pocketed the keys and looked up at the dark sky. The stars were flickering above, but they seemed fake. Dean felt something pinch inside him. He tore his broken gaze from the sky. He glanced across the road at some teenagers kissing on a roof. Cliche. He thought. Dean felt his fingers clench together like he was holding on to the rope of his sanity. He rubbed his eyes and turned towards the sidewalk. He took a deep breath and took a step. Another. His foot hit the pavement as if testing it to hold not only his weight, but the weight he carried as well. Then another. More and more. Faster. Surer. The world went by in an angry blur.

He stopped suddenly at a park. It was dark and the children's equipment glowered at him in a menacing stance. He collapsed on a park bench that had grass growing taller around it. He buried his face in his hands.

"Why does it have to be my job to save people?" He hissed even though he knew the answer. "What if I wanted a normal life? Oh, wait nobody cares" he spoke in a broken voice. "I'm the puppet" the words were spat this time at the ground. "The plaything of demons" he growled in quiet anger. "Born to be a good little soldier. Did what his daddy said and still hurt so many people" he spat out the poison laced words with hatred. "Can't fix the broken boy, better keep him busy so he doesn't notice" he cried, but he ran out of tears long ago so his voice was scratchy and his face dry. "Let the boy be lonely. He saves more lives that way. Just kidding, he always breaks them" he was practically chanting recited lyrics in a somewhat hushed voice. "The angels are watching me! They must get a damn good laugh! Are you watching? Can you see your broken son? Do you laugh too? Or do you pity the man who cries to his mama when the world don't work out" he spewed his anger in a now collected state. His eyes glinted in the hard light. His fury burned for a moment before folding it's delicate wings like origami and snaking back into his heart, to lash through his veins at another monster.

Dean stood. I should have gone to a bar. He thought. You shouldn't drink so much. A worried, gravelly voice responded in his head. He brushed off his jeans and was going to head back to the motel when he heard a twig snap behind him. He immediately froze. He spun around to see a man fall out of a tree.

"The hell are you doing?" He hissed, but the figure didn't respond. It lay face down in the dirt with it's long arms splayed out. He pulled out his gun and carefully took a step towards him. He prodded the limp torso of the man with his foot. When no response was seen, he bent over and checked for a pulse. It was barely there. Pulsing lightly like tiptoeing steps, behind the strange man's cold skin. He checked for fangs and claws, but all he found was cold. There were no wounds anywhere he could see, so why was he knocked unconscious and on the verge of death at Dean's feet. I can't save him. I always end up losing them right after we become friends. He thought with fear washing over his body. But you try, don't you. With that, the battle worn hunter with steel eyes, scooped up the unconscious black coated man like a princess and walked all the way back to the motel. He ignored the side glances and focused only on the slowing beat of the stranger's heart.

~€.€~

"Dean. Do you care to tell me why there is a strange man in your bed, and you are lying on the bathroom floor?" Sam asked with a hint of amusement and a raised eyebrow.

"Wha-" was the grumbled reply, along with a fairly loud string of curses as he sat up to hit his head on the base of the sink.

"There's a dude in your bed." Sam stated again, glaring at his brother with entertainment rolling across his face.

"Dyeing, fell out of a tree. The hell did I put my toothbrush?" The elder Winchester mumbled, reaching like a blind man for his toothbrush on the ground beside him.

"Get up, then explain you jerk" Sam laughed, lightly kicking his brother in the side.

"Bitch" Dean winced with a violent cough and a more successful rise. Sam offered his hand and Dean stood up promptly without it. He dusted off his crumpled jeans and wiped the toothpaste from his cheek and lips.

"So, you gonna explain the zombie in your bed? Or am I gonna stand here all day" Sam grinned from the bathroom doorway.

"I was walking back last night, when I heard this sound behind me. I turned, expecting some monster to jump me, but no! It was a dead guy, I thought. He was still breathing actually so I picked him up and dragged my ass back here. Happy now?" Dean sighed, spinning to face his brother with his hands raised to his sides. He shook the water out of them, and pushed past him.

"I mean why you brought him here" Sam called across the room, still leaning on the doorframe, just turned around.

"I don't know, okay!" Dean growled, pulling some alcohol from the cupboard. "I just don't know!" He sighed with quiet anger, slamming the bottle back into the cupboard and slumping into the chair. He buried his face in the pile of papers and pretended to go to sleep. Sam sighed and grabbed his coat, heading out the door. Dean took a sharp intake of breath and let himself cry tearless and silently. What's wrong with you? Emotional? What? You can't be emotional. Disgrace. Floated in hissing whispers of voices through his head.

I cut this one a little short, I'm hoping it will help me get more chapters out faster if I shorten them a bit. It's the same length as the rest, just cut off. Thank you for reading and I would love it if you reviewed! everything is just so stressful recently and I haven't had a chance to update, sorry for keeping you waiting!