Hey! Sorry for the delay, classes have been retched. So enjoy this chapter and I will try and post again next week end.

Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: don't own 'em yada yada

The Impala's constant rumble slowed. When the loud purring of the engine died, a startled gasp issued from the back seat.

Dean glanced back to find Lisa looking around with sleep-sore eyes. She rubbed her hand over her face when she noticed him watching her.

Castiel stared intently at the dark house looming through the windshield. Dean opened the door and stretched his legs. They ached but standing felt good. He could feel his own eyelids getting heavy. Whatever Castiel had done to him, he hadn't been able to stop it in time. He felt drowsy the entire drive only the bright headlights had kept him alert.

Dean paused, his sleep deprived brain reacted slower than he would have liked. His mind sent up a red flag and Dean turned to look across the hood of the car. The night seemed brighter for an instant before it darkening once more.

Dean shook his head. His eyes were playing tricks on his. He could have sworn he just saw…

But how?

Castiel's door never opened; the angel appeared next to Dean. He stood oddly close, his stance protective. Vibrant blue eyes drifted over the surroundings without actually seeing into the darkness. Castiel didn't seem to share Dean's nagging feeling.

Lisa was already out of the car. She held the still sleeping Ben on her hip. They walked toward the house. Castiel opened the door from the inside as Dean reached in his pocket for a lock pick.

The house had changed. The repairs, completed after the fire, altered the layout of the first floor. It still sent Dean reeling into memories.

Angel's are watching over you.

His mother's voice whispered in his ear. Her soft words sent a warm shiver down Dean's body.

Dean ignored Castiel as the angel turned toward him protectively, Castiel's hand flinched. There was no way Dean was going to let Castiel knock him out again. Dean held up a hand to both Lisa and Castiel to wait while he searched the house.

Some of the furniture from the previous family was still there. The living room had an old couch and a leather chair.

Dean circled the first floor before climbing the stairs under the wary eyes of Castiel. There was a queen sized bed in the room at the end of the hall. His parent's old bedroom. Dean's own room was empty.

He stood for a moment at the door near the top of the stairs. Brightly colored letters flashed on the white door.

Sammy.

Dean's hand rested for a moment on the handle. He turned the cold brass; it felt like breaking a seal. It felt like the room was forbidden, sacred, and he wasn't supposed to be there. The air was cold as he pushed the door open. A small bed, without sheets, was the only furniture in the room. The yellow walls were hideously pale in the street light filtering in the window.

Dean stepped back and shut the door. He went back to Castiel and Lisa already knowing what he would have to do.

"Hey, so… There is a queen and a twin upstairs. Cas, you don't sleep so…" Dean trailed off.

"I'll stay down here. This will be fine," Castiel turned to wander off, his expression nearly curious.

"Don't ask," Dean waved a hand at Lisa's question. She didn't need to know everything, especially when she wouldn't understand it anyway. Dean just wanted sleep.

"You and Ben take the queen, it's in my parents old bed room. Up the stairs, last room on the left. There is a bathroom attached to the room."

"Ok," she mumbled behind a yawn as she started up the stairs. "Dean?" He turned to look at her. "Thank you for saving my… our son… again."

"It's my job," he joked with a crooked smile. It faded quickly. He nodded and bit his lip. "Get some sleep Lisa."

"Night, Dean."

The stairs still creaked under Dean's weight. Everyone settled in and the house grew quiet. The silence left too much room to think. Dean's thoughts crowded his head.

He sat on the small bed and buried his face in his hands. Dean rubbed his tired eyes and tried to focus long enough to get his shoes off.

The laces were slick in his clumsy hands. Dean slid his boots off and placed them next to the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head and fell back on the pillow.

The buckle of his belt slid from between his fingers. The ceiling faded and sleep came a little too easily.

Dean still dreamed images not fit for a horror film. Dark and hellish pictures flitted from his memory as much as his imagination.

Demon's raced over the earth. It was a field of death and decay, and still he ran over the bodies of the fallen.

The convent swam with light.

Pain shot through Dean's chest as Lucifer clawed his way through.

A burning kiss turned his veins to fire.

Dean's eyes snapped open. The street light filtered in the window. Sam's mobile spun gently above Dean's head, twinkling with soft music. Light blue wall paper surrounded him and the fresh smell of baby powder filled the air.

Sam's hand wrapped itself roughly around Dean's throat. The hazel eyes, glaring down at Dean with dispassion and hatred, were Sam's and Sam's alone. Dean fought to breathe on instinct, his hands curling around Sam's wrists. He didn't try to remove Sam's grip.

The vibrant green of Dean's eyes was reflected in Sam's hazel. He watched his younger brother intently, waiting for the hazel to turn bloody red. Dean's vision swam with black spots but nothing changed. He struggled for air, but even without it he was alive and waiting.

Waiting…

Light started to crack through Sam's image. The vision faded behind Dean's eyelids, now glowing with Lucifer's light. Dean needed to wake up.

Smooth strong hands slid against Dean's throat. The audible scratch of skin brushing the growing stubble on Dean's neck was the only noise. The large hand seemed like it fit there, like it was meant to be wrapped tightly around Dean's throat.

Or maybe, it was just meant to be there… There for Dean whenever he needed help or comfort, family or love. Dean just wanted to feel the instinct run through his body in calming waves.

Sam was here.

Dean felt the statement ring true, coursing over every inch of his skin like goose bumps on a cold day. For a moment he forgot. Forgot that Sam wasn't Sam, that Sam wanted him dead, that Sam was…

Dean needed to wake up.

For a second the touch was gentle, more careful. For a second Dean wanted it to be like it used to be, when they were brothers. Then he opened his eyes and instinct took over.