I was at Nashcon over the weekend seeing the boys, so I had a VERY good excuse for not updating sooner. Eight days isn't that bad, right? :)

Ch. 3

Present.

They're almost out of the danger zone when the leviathans show up. So close. So close to being home free. And it's pure bad luck too. Nothing they did at all. Just some leviathans taking a perimeter scope. The two groups just happen to walk right into each other. No warning for either of them.

"You doin' okay, Sam?"

"Peachy." Reloaded, he turns to look over the rubble they're hiding behind. Clear so far.

"Just asking."

He pats his brother's chest when he turns back around to collapse against the makeshift wall behind them. "You'll know when I'm not."

"I'd rather know beforehand."

"Tough."

"I was afraid you'd say that."

"You notice the canister you tipped over?" Sam looks to Dean meaningfully.

"Yeah. Smelled it. You working on something?"

Sam nods. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Where's Mark?"

"About two o'clock? Ducking."

"On three."

"One."

"Two."

The 'three' is in unison. Both jump out and make a run for it, guns blazing. They may not kill leviathans, but it sure does slow them down.

Mark jumps in with them to make it around the corner. The last thing they see before they duck down again is the wide mouth and teeth that haunt the nightmares of most everyone who lives in this war. Once around the corner, they sneak into a building and go out the back. A little weaving through other buildings and through the abandoned streets before they stop inside another building gives them a few extra minutes. Hopefully.

"What do you mean hopefully?"

Sam glares at Dean. "I'm not a computer, Dean." He turns and starts pacing.

Dean sighs. "Sorry." He watches Sam pace.

"What's he doing? We need to get out of here."

Dean puts his arm out to silence Mark. "Give him a minute. He's doing his thing."

Mark looks to him. "What thing?"

Dean grins, waving his hand in a 'shooing' motion. "His planning… thing."

"Okay. Maybe four of them? It looks like it was just a routine check of perimeters. They were thrown off. No backup can come in time. We don't have any either. But we have someone who knows the place." He finally freezes, looking to Mark. "What's the most confusing way out of here?"

It takes him a second to answer, thrown off by Sam's sharp gaze on him and the way he seems so together right now. Winchester back in his element, no doubt. "Out the back door here and through a few cross sections to make it to the highway. It has a lot of intersections and ramps."

Sam nods. "You know how to zigzag while making good distance?"

Mark nods. "Absolutely."

Sam looks to Dean. "So you smelled what you spilled, right?" He grins widely.

Dean grins back. "Got it."

Mark blinks. "Got what?"

"Just follow Sam." Dean smirks, slinging his bag off his shoulder.

Sam grabs Mark, tossing something to Dean before dragging the older man out the door and pushing him forward. "Lead us out. Confusing but putting distance."

"What about Dean?"

Sam snorts. "You'll see."

Still confused but willing to listen, Mark keeps running, leading Sam farther and farther away from danger. He hopes. They're just getting to the highway when there's an explosion. Sliding to a stop, Mark spins around and ducks behind a building to watch the building they were in not too long ago fly to pieces. It sets off a chain reaction down the street. "What's so explosive around here?"

Sam grins next to him, eyes almost feral as he watches the fire spread. It gives him a whole new level of creepy. There's also pride in the look. Of Dean maybe? "The leviathans are using this area as a supply store in case they can't make it all the way back to their base. Canisters were set in alleyways to not draw attention. Dean knocked over one when running away from them."

"What is it?"

"Fuel. We've had some… experience with them using it to get through defenses. If an attack was set here, they'd have some sort of ammunition back at us. But since it was just us three, I think they were hoping to get us easily." He shoos Mark forward, starting them off again. "We have to keep moving. Dean's following." It sounds like he's trying to convince himself too. It's also the most Mark has ever heard him talk, and notices how Sam's voice really does sound wrecked. Like someone who's so world-weary they don't even talk anymore. He wouldn't be surprised. It seems Dean does most of the talking for them anyway.

Mark leads him again, noticing the farther they get, the more twitchy Sam gets. It's when they've ducked under a few ramps and crossed a big cut in the road that Sam allows them to stop. Then he looks back the way they came. After taking a few breaths to catch what he lost from running, he spares a look at Mark.

"We'll wait here." Then he paces.

It makes Mark uneasy. The longer time drags on, the more antsy Sam gets. The tension around his mouth gets harder, the tightness around his eyes gets worse, he runs his hand through his hair every once in a while. But Mark doesn't bother him. It's not his place. He wouldn't know what to do anyway. He does realize the effort it probably took to wait this long to freak out. It's obvious Sam knows when to buckle down. Now that they're out of the line of fire though, the obvious discomfort of being apart from Dean is showing. Badly.

Sam paces. He tries to stay calm. Tries to keep his jitters to a minimum. If he were alone, he'd be muttering to himself. Telling himself how pathetic this is. Tearing himself apart at how dependent he is on Dean. It's what he's done whenever Dean went out to get supplies on his own when Sam was recovering. Testing his limits. Sam never let on how much it got to him.

It seems like hours, though it's probably only minutes before Sam freezes and turns to his left, grabbing Mark's attention who watches the rest in awe. Sam's eyes close, and every line of tension suddenly drains from his body as he releases a breath neither he nor Mark probably knew he was holding. Then he waits, unmoving in his vigil.

Mark waits, confused. What does Sam know that he doesn't? The silence is eventually broken by the scuff of boots kicking up dust and gravel, and Mark realizes that somehow Sam knew Dean was coming. Then Dean comes around the side of a collapsed highway bridge, bag slung over his shoulder and sauntering over with a grin like he just won the whole world. His eyes are on Sam.

"Damn, Sammy. You shoulda been there to see that."

Sam grins so bright Mark thinks his face probably hurts. And my God, the man actually has a smile. "Oh I saw," he chuckles. "Quite a show you put on."

Dean gives a bow, arms out on either side, before standing and putting an arm around Sam's shoulders. He finally turns to Mark. "So… how far from here?"

Mark shakes his head at both the way Sam relaxes into Dean's arm and to how he still has no clue what just happened. "What did you do back there?"

Dean grins. "Bought us time. I left an explosive on one of the barrels before tracking you guys. Set it to blow once I was far enough away and we have the all clear while they probably try to put out the fire or think we're still around there somewhere."

Mark blinks. "You tracked us?"

Dean laughs. "I'm the best tracker you've ever seen, Mark." Dean claps Sam on the back before tugging him around to start walking. "C'mon. Let's get a move on!"

Mark shakes his head. These boys are something else. He can see why Bobby was so entranced by them. "You did good, old friend," he murmurs to himself. He follows, eventually taking up the lead again.

Dean stops him when he says they're an hour out from camp. Then turns to Sam. "Will it make you feel better if we don't tell them who we really are?"

Mark looks to Sam in confusion, then realization, seeing for the first time how much the younger brother is tense and jittery. His hands are shaking. It's clear he doesn't want to go into a new place with people he doesn't know. He's already standing way inside what should be Dean's personal space. Of course, it seems these two don't have personal space apart. They share the same one.

Sam frowns. "Why?"

Dean shrugs. "Nothing to stand up to. You can just be what you want. We won't get attention. You won't have to be strong. We can just be two more people in this crappy fight."

Sam considers it. His hands stop shaking, one coming up to link a finger into the end of Dean's jacket sleeve. "That might… help," he allows quietly.

Dean grins victoriously. It's hard to find things to help Sam these days. And this is going to be a huge thing for his brother, still struggling with something he doesn't quite understand. Something that's taken a lot of his confidence in himself away and given him a ton of fears instead. "Yeah? You can make up your own name and everything." He starts getting excited as if talking to a little kid.

Sam rolls his eyes though his mouth quirks up a little. "Who will you be? No famous names either."

Dean glares. "Well you're no fun. What should my name be then?"

Sam thinks a minute. "Campbell?"

His brother blinks. "That works I guess. What about you? We shouldn't be brothers. It would give away too much I think."

"You sure?" Mark interrupts. "Not to be rude or anything, but you guys seem to share the same space more often than most guys would."

Dean chuckles, leaning into Sam when his brother lets go of the hold he had on his sleeve in embarrassment. "Let them think what they want. After the world ends, nothing anyone else thinks matters anymore." He looks to Sam. "Sammy Colt."

Sam looks down to him in surprise before returning the grin still on Dean's face. "My name's cooler."

Dean sticks his tongue out at him. Honest to God sticks his tongue out.

"You're childish."

"You need to act younger. You're getting old as it is Sammy." Dean looks back to Mark. "Call us just by Campbell and Colt. It's not like names are important anymore."

Mark nods. "We have interesting nicknames at camp anyway. No one really knows real names anymore. No one really cares."

Dean nods, clapping a hand to Sam's arm as they turn to start walking again. "See, Sam. You'll be fine. Yeah? We'll be fine here."

Sam nods. "Fine," he murmurs softly to himself. His finger attaches itself back to Dean's sleeve. He'll need a little help for this.

"Mark, go on up ahead. We'll be following. We just need a while."

Mark nods. "No problem."

Dean stops with a confused Sam and waits until Mark is too far away to possibly hear anything. Then he shoves back the mental wall labeled 'no chick-flick moments', the wall that's so thin now it barely even exists, and pulls his arm away to get Sam's finger off his sleeve but takes Sam's hand to get his attention. "Hey. You know how this goes. You're turn to start."

Sam is silent for a while, hand twitching in Dean's almost as if he wants to pull away.

"I'm not letting go until we get through this. It's really awkward but it keeps you grounded. Now come on. The question of the day is…"

Sam bites his lip before answering. "What if they know?"

Dean nods, understanding. "So what if they do? You hear what Mark said about you? You aren't known as the guy who started the apocalypse anymore. You're the one who saved the world. Who took on the devil and won. They won't hate you Sam."

He continues on to the next one. "What if they see?"

Dean understands. "Things have happened to you. It doesn't matter what they see or what they say about what they see. They'll never understand what you're going through. They'll never understand what you do to get through it. They don't need to understand. So what if they see what you're like now? Only I know how far you've come. I'm the only one that matters when it comes to knowing who you are. Right?"

Sam nods. "Right." His voice is quiet, but the conviction is still evident in his voice.

Dean grins. "Damn straight." He nudges his shoulder into Sam's. "What else?"

Sam goes back to biting his lip.

"Sam. Every day is a new question…"

"I will find the answer," he murmurs back after a few seconds of silence. Then adds, "with your help," ruefully.

"When did that become a permanent fixture to that sentence?" Dean asks, amused.

"Since I realized it's true."

Dean makes a contemplative face to himself. The day it isn't true, Sam will be himself again. And Dean will be happier than he's been in what seems like a very long time. "What's next, Sam," he asks again.

Sam lets out a sound that is suspiciously close to a wine.

"Spit it out, you big baby. I'm tired of holding your hand."

Sam glares ahead before finally opening his mouth. It takes him a second to get his voice to come out. "What will they think about…?"

"Us?" Dean finishes. Then snorts. "I told Mark the truth, you know. I don't give a crap to what people think. We aren't like other people. Just like we've figured that out over the years, genius. I don't care what they think or what they say about us. We're just us. You and me. Like it or not. So stop trying to put us in with other people. Sure, like Mark said, we're more touchy feely than others. I've be trained by you."

Sam snorts.

"But who cares? And maybe most people like us wouldn't be able to stick with each other with all of our issues and problems. But I'm right here. And you're right here. And who cares who else is around us? Alright? I don't know about you, but I'm tired of trying to live up to everyone's expectations."

Sam doesn't answer for a while. The walk is silent, with only Mark's lone figure in front of them to keep them headed in the right direction. Then he looks over to Dean. "Okay."

Dean looks back. "Okay?"

Sam nods. "Okay. Just us."

Dean blinks before grinning, turning back ahead as Sam does. He gets it. Sam doesn't care what anyone else thinks either. He's ready to try and integrate himself back into society. Well… the society that's around now. He doesn't even notice when his hand stay's in Sam's for a few extra minutes. As he said earlier, Sam trained him.

When he does notice, he shakes it away with a scowl. "Okay. Chick-flick is one thing, but this has gotten way too girly for my taste."

Sam chuckles. "Was waitin' for you to notice."

Dean nudges him with his shoulder. "Shut up. How's your voice?"

"Hurts. Don't think it'll go back to like it was. Don't use it enough."

"Makes you sound scary," Dean teases.

Sam grins a little. "Yeah."

"You can be the strong silent type. I'll talk for you."

Sam snorts. "You already do."

Dean shoves him again, laughing when Sam sends him his bitch face.