Ch. 1

The newcomers walking into the camp aren't spared a second look, even though their height make them almost tower over most of the rest. Most people who look the first time are too afraid to look again in case they make eye contact. The men go straight to the only bar there is in the camp. They don't even care to look around them. They look dangerous enough not to care. It's easy to see the two are soldiers fighting against the leviathans. It's hard to scare those types of people.

These two men though, they look different from the rest. Even more dangerous than other soldiers. Even more seasoned. But none look close enough, too busy trying to avoid the feeling of unease they get when looking at them. If they did look, they'd see the chinks in their armor that are still being fixed. The very slightest of limps in the shorter one's step, the taller one keeping a finger caught in a dip of the shorter one's jacket sleeve, and the way neither of them are even the slightest bit relaxed though they look it. Little signs of the less than strong interior covered by their rough exterior.

Walking into the bar, the taller one twitches slightly at the sound of glasses being dropped on the table. The shorter one leans just slightly closer to him for a split second, making the taller relax. The exchange is almost unnoticeable. They walk over to a corner table where a slightly older man is already sitting. No one pays them any attention. People passing through is no oddity here.

"How've you guys been doin'?"

"As good as we ever are these days."

He looks to the other man. "How you doin' Sam?" He eyes the way Sam's face is like stone. The face of someone unpredictable. He'd be nervous if Dean weren't here too.

Hazel eyes dart up, the slight edge of a smile showing through a hard face. "Better." His voice is gritty. Unused?

"And he's not lying Mark."

Mark chuckles. "I can see he's doing better. I'm surprised actually."

Sam shrugs. "Dean helps." Definitely not used to talking much, Mark decides. How weird. He distinctly remembers Dean talking a lot. How would Sam get away without talking?

He nods in reply to Sam's answer. That's all the explanation he expected. The brothers don't get really personal with anyone anymore. They keep to themselves these days.

Dean looks over at Sam, but addresses Mark. "Every day is a question. Each one turns out to have an answer."

Sam snorts almost humorlessly. Almost.

Mark quirks a half grin. These two brothers and their inside sayings... "So. You guys about ready to hear what's been goin' on the past few months?"

Dean nods, leaning back in the booth. His left leg falls over to bump Sam's knee with his. "No one's falling apart anymore," he says with a grin, hand absently running over said left knee in an unconscious reaction.

Mark chuckles. "That's good. Because it's about time we end the reign of the leviathans don't you think?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Don't ever ask that question, Mark."

He nods. "Fair enough." He leans forward, hands entwining on the table top. "It's time to head east. It's where most of the attacks are happening. We think they're going to start a westward motion within the next month or so. Reports from recon are coming in that they're planning on rounding up people. Doing a number on them almost like that turducken thing you told us about in the beginning. Subduing them and taking them in. Not eating them all. Keeping them."

Dean frowns. "Storing them."

"And possibly…"

Sam wrinkles his nose. "Reproduction."

Mark nods. "Farming."

Dean snorts. "That doesn't make it sound any better."

Mark shrugs wryly.

"And there's still no help from other countries?"

Mark sighs. "They're all readying themselves for the attack on their own land. They know it's coming soon. They're trying to come up with ways to kill them. So far, nothing. But we have guys keeping track. If they figure out something, we'll know. But they don't want to get involved until they have a surefire way to get rid of them."

"No attracting attention to more easy prey," Sam murmurs.

"Bingo." Mark looks from Sam to Dean. "You guys ready to get back in the game? We've needed a little extra help."

Dean looks over and slightly up at Sam. "Whaddya say Sammy? Ready to get back to what we do best?"

Sam raises an eyebrow, but quirks an almost-smile. "I don't know, Dean. Do we still do it the best?"

Dean glares. "Why do I ever bring you anywhere?"

Sam doesn't answer, only lets out a smile though soft and small before it disappears and he looks back to Mark.

Dean looks back to him too. "We're in."

Mark nods, motioning for the bar tender. "Alright. Welcome to squad seven. Drinks on me, then we're headed to the camp."

A few drinks later (only one for Sam) and the three are walking out of the camp going the opposite way the two came in. No one pays attention to the three men. Some just look at the two closer together, wondering what about them sparks something in their memory.

"We'll probably make it tomorrow around seven. We're about half way there. We'll just bunk down for the night. Sunrise work for you?"

Dean nods. "That's fine." He heads towards the room farthest down the hall of the dark house. Sam follows, Dean's shadow tied to him like a string. When they get inside the room and Dean closes the door, a weight lifts off Sam's shoulders, letting him breathe easier and giving him the ability to relax. Dean motions towards the bed. "Sit. Shirt off."

Sam sighs.

"We need to check it, Sam. Do you want to have nightmares?"

"It's been working, Dean. It's fine."

"I just need to make sure."

Sam doesn't argue. He knows it'll make Dean rest easier just to look. He pulls his shirt over his head as Dean pulls one of their battery powered lamps out of his bag. He closes his eyes and relaxes, feeling Dean sit behind him and seeing the faint glow of light through his eye lids. "It's fine, isn't it?" he asks as he feels Deans hands move his back around to look at the lines of the wide symbol on it in the light.

"Don't be a smart ass. Bitch."

He smiles.

"It's fading though."

His smile disappears, eyes opening. "What do we do then?"

Dean sighs. "I hate to say it, but we do it again. Until we find a tattoo parlor with clean needles and good ink left."

Sam grimaces. The first time was bad enough. "So the scar is fading?"

"Around some edges."

"Great." He pulls his shirt back on.

"We have painkillers this time."

Sam shakes his head, turning to lay on his back. Swinging his legs over his brother's head to lay flat, they barely miss swiping him. He grins at Dean's glare. Then looks serious. "No need to waste them. I made it through the first time."

Dean frowns. "Sam…"

"I'll be fine again."

Dean cringes at the thought of hurting Sam again. Even if it is to keep the nightmares and memories away. It takes a long time. "Too bad we couldn't find a permanent spell." He stands, throwing his jacket on the back of a chair and pulling a gun and knife out of his bag before making his way over to the bed. He slides them under the pillow after sitting down.

"I'm glad you found something at all, Dean."

Dean shrugs, turning to fall backwards, laying almost exactly like Sam. He moves his arms up to rest his head on his hands. "You sure you're ready for this?"

Sam snorts. "No. But if we wait until then, everyone will be dead."

Dean doesn't comment. The room is silent for a long time.

"Your knee okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You ask me, I ask you. Only fair."

Dean rolls his eyes, rolling over to his side. "Just keep to your side of the bed, sasquatch." He closes his eyes as Sam chuckles, but listens until Sam's breaths even out before letting himself drift off too.

Sam makes it without nightmares to Dean's relief. But as usual, an arm is thrown over his chest when he wakes up and it's way too hot to stay in bed any longer. It's routine now. Sam's arm or leg spread out enough to flop on him. Better than pushing him off he supposes. He just lifts it up, dropping it as he gets up and puts his weapons back in his bag. Sam doesn't even stir.

He throws his jacket at Sam's head. "Sam. Time to go. Sun will be up in a few minutes. Then we're outta here."

Sam groans, not even looking as his arm throws the jacket back in the direction it came from before flopping back down.

Dean catches the jacket without looking. He doesn't even bother turning around. He knows the routine by now.

Sam slowly pushes himself up, running a hand through his hair to push it back out of his way. "Your internal clock never ceases to amaze me."

Dean grins. "Big brother skill. C'mon Sammy. Get up."

"I'm up."

Dean grins to himself. Their roles have been reversed over the years. It used to be Sam who was the morning person, waking Dean up who grumped about early wake up calls. Now though, Sam's body has accustomed itself to get as much sleep as possible before a nightmare takes a night away. Which hopefully won't be happening anymore.

"I want coffee."

"Don't have coffee."

"I know." Sam shuffles over to where he left his jacket the night before, then goes to stand by Dean at the door of the bedroom. He sighs once before finally opening his eyes and running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face for the last time. "I'm ready."

Dean pats his chest twice before turning around. "Today is a new question."

"I'm going to find the answer," Sam mumbles back. "With yer help," he tacks on.

Dean chuckles.

He follows Dean's slight shadow down the hallway with his head drooped and hands in his pockets. Mornings are the worst. He's still trying to get back to himself. Feel as strong as he used to. As self-assured. It hasn't been easy getting to this point. But Dean helps. He keeps him close at all times. In fact, it's technically Dean that protects him from nightmares.

"You sure you're awake?"

Sam looks up from under his bangs to see Dean's slightly amused face. "Working on it." He yawns, looking around to where the horizon is lighter. His shoulder leans into Dean's. His brow furrows. "Where'd we leave the impala?"

Dean frowns for a second before letting it go. He knows Sam forgets things sometimes. His mind has been fragile since the break. Forgetting random things isn't that bad. "Dad's lockup remember? It took us hours to make room for it," he answers, handing Sam their last bag of chips from his duffel.

Sam suddenly grins at the memory. "A shelf almost fell on you."

"Because you pushed it," he grunts. "Freakin' giant."

Sam laughs, honest to God laughs, for the first time in about a week. He almost chokes on a chip in the process.

Dean smiles. As he opens his own bag. It's the best sound he's heard in a long time. "Quiet Sammy, you'll wake the neighbors."

Sam snorts another soft laugh. "Yeah. The ones twenty miles away?"

"Your laugh? Yes."

Sam shoves him with his shoulder, grin still in place.

Dean takes that as a sign that it will be a good day. "Where'd that question come from anyway?"

Sam shrugs, smile dimming but turning more fond. "Miss it I guess."

Dean nods. Instead of standing here, shoulder to shoulder, they'd be leaning against the Impala. Doing just that. "Me too."

"You ever gonna get it back?"

Dean shrugs. "Someday. Kinda wanna check on her though. Hope she's still locked up." He huffs once. "Hate the thought of someone getting in there."

Sam nods.

They stand in silence for a few seconds and finish their chips before footsteps approach from behind. Sam tenses, but relaxes again when Dean touches his arm. "Mark. Remember?"

He nods. Let's out a breath. "Yeah." He squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds before huffing out a deep breath. "Sorry."

Dean pats his arm before turning. "No need to be sorry." He grins at Mark as he gets closer. "Morning."

Mark nods. "Morning. Sleep well?"

Dean nods. "Perfect."

Only Sam notices the slight relief in his voice. He feels slight satisfaction that he was the one that caused that. Not waking him with nightmares like he feared.

"We'll need to travel carefully today. We go right between two leviathan posts about four hours from here. As long as we're quiet and careful we'll get through just fine. The camp is about five hours away from that."

"Awfully close don't you think?" Dean comments.

Mark grins suddenly. "Oh our camp isn't just a camp."

Dean nods. "That's right. That's why you asked me to come."

Mark nods. "We're The Compound. All soldiers stop there before they go out to separate camps. We're the base of operations. And we're waiting for you two."

Sam snorts, suddenly looking quite irritated.

Dean looks to him, tilting his head slightly.

Sam scowls. "I'm not going to be much help."

"Sam…"

"You kidding?" Mark cuts in. "Sam Winchester? The guy who saved the world?"

Sam looks at him, wide eyed.

Dean looks at him too, thrilled with how his brother is known to the hunting community. "It's about time he got some damn credit for what he did."

Mark grins at Sam's look. "You ever sit in the middle of a camp when the moon is bright and listen to people tell stories around their bonfire?"

Sam shakes his head, still dumbstruck.

Mark puts a hand on Sam's shoulder, ignoring the slight flinch when he sees Dean lightly touch the other arm and sees Sam relax again. "Winchester is the name whispered around the camp fires. Sam and Dean are the names known to hunters only. You and your brother are legends now. Mostly thanks to bored hunters and people you've saved. And a hunter who got the whole story from Bobby Singer when he bragged about you two."

At the mention of Bobby, both brothers get the same look on their face. A loving, yet sorrowful look.

Mark gently takes his hand from Sam's shoulder so as not to spook him again. He doesn't fully understand the extent of damage, but he knows Sam's a little more fragile mentally than he used to be. Especially with the way Dean watches over him. "You guys have been through more than anyone just from the crap you were caught up in. And now you're right in the middle of this too though you think you're out of the fight. Legends don't give up, do they?"

Sam looks to Dean, eyes wide and frantic with everything Mark just told them.

Dean looks up at him, gives him his signature smirk, and winks at him. "Yeah, Sammy. Do legends give up?"

Sam's face calms at the familiar display of cockiness. He draws strength from Dean's faith in him. Always has. "I guess not," he finally murmurs, looking back to Mark.

Mark grins. "I can see you're not exactly the Sam Winchester you used to be," he allows. "Though I never truly knew who that was. But what I see now, is someone who is still dangerous. He just needs to remember it."

Sam's face turns serious, jaw clenching as he nods once.

Mark looks to Dean to see a striking look of thanks on his face. It's obvious he knew Sam needed to hear the same thing he says from someone else. He pats Dean's arm as he goes around him in a silent 'you're welcome'. He likes these boys. Bobby was right about them. "C'mon boys. Daylight's awaistin'."