AN: For disclaimer, please see chapter 1.

Much love to all readers (and especially reviewers 😚 😚 😚) I hope you enjoy.

So this is the last chapter of this one, I hope you enjoy xx

Losing My Religion

Previously:

John: "So, you … er … you weren't to the cherufe's taste, huh?" He pulled out a small paper bag which he dropped in the teen's lap. "You'll be needing these then."

Dean peeped in the bag. It contained a box of condoms.

ℼ

Sam: "How do you know if you are really doing good or if you just think you are?"

John: "Ask your brother."

ℼ

John: "I've requested some AMA forms. Your brother can finish recuperating at Jim's."

ℼ

Jim: "Dean! How was the journey? Your father tells me you had a rather hot encounter."

ℼ

Chapter 10: That Was Just A Dream

Dean found it easy to avoid everyone's eyes at dinner, since he could hardly keep his open. Before he had even half cleared his plate, Jim helped him up and led him to the downstairs bedroom that mostly hosted recovering hunters. John handed over the painkillers the hospital had provided and Dean was out before they had sat back down to finish their own meals.

After dessert John took Sam upstairs to get settled, leaving him instructions to sort both his and Dean's laundry so it could be done tomorrow. He wasn't remotely surprised when, a short while later as he was stoking the fire, he heard Sam sneaking back down the stairs. Jim had already set up a camp bed next to Dean's, so the eleven-year-old wouldn't have to try and sleep in the chair.

The men sat in companionable silence. Jim was mending the spines of some old books. John just stared into the flames of the fire.

It was a tricky element - fire. It had saved his life more than once and here in the pastor's home it was welcoming, warm, comforting. But it was also the enemy. Fire had taken Mary and fire had burned away the last vestiges of his children's childhood. Sammy had earned his Combat Action Ribbon and Dean … well he'd discovered a whole different kind of action. Of all the things he'd considered his boys might lose due to hunting, virginity had not been one of them.

Jim was focused on his task and hadn't said anything but John knew he would. He'd want John to talk to Dean, for them to have some hallmark moment and express their feelings and reflect on responsibility. John was sure Mary would be the better parent to talk to Dean. Of course, if Mary had been here the circumstances would be very different. He closed his eyes, his wife's beautiful face filling his thoughts.

"Have you ever spoken to Dean about …" the Pastor cleared his throat. "... the love between a man and a woman?"

John sometimes wondered if the pastor was a mind reader of some sort, he certainly had uncanny timing. "You mean sex," he corrected, opening his eyes to stare dryly at his friend.

"In part. But you know, there are still some of us that believe the physical act of love and the emotional one, can and should go together."

"It's not that simple."

"John, up to this point, for the most part it has been Samuel that has served most of Dean's emotional needs. But Sam is growing up, he is no longer the little boy who idolises his big brother. He is becoming his own man. Dean will be looking for other forms of succour."

"He's a teenage boy, Jim, that's not the sort of suck he's thinking about."

Jim gave John the same look he usually gave Dean when the teen was trying to shock him.

"Hell, I remember what it was like to be that age, don't you?" John defended. "A little fun won't kill the boy."

"I have some interesting research on succubi that perhaps you both should read," the pastor said reprovingly.

But John could see the light in his friend's eyes and laughed. "Right. I bet you were only carrying girls' books and offering them your seat at bible study when you were young."

Jim's smile hinted that his past was quite different from what one might imagine for a religious man. John had long known that Jim was never going to tell whatever secrets he was hiding regarding his youth.

"My point is, you and I both know there is a big difference between a temporary physical release and a deep emotional connection. I would hate for the boy to miss out on the latter because he has become too caught up in the former."

"He'll have plenty of time for all that later."

"Later?"

"When we've finished the job."

Jim looked at John over his glasses, staying silent.

ℼℼℼ

Dean first thought it was the prickles and aches spasming across his chest that had woken him, but as he tried to shift into a less uncomfortable position another whimper caught his ear. Disregarding his pain completely, he rolled his head to the side to see the flop-haired figure of his brother, curled on a camp bed that he was pretty sure hadn't been cramped into the space between the bed and the window when he fell asleep. Sam flinched in his sleep and Dean reached out a hand to rest on his brother's head, biting back a cry of pain as the stretch pulled his raw flesh.

"It's ok Sammy, it's just a dream," he murmured, shifting himself painfully and awkwardly, with one hand not leaving the younger boy, until he was at the edge of his bed. He stroked the soft hair as he had done many times in the past and waited. Sometimes Sam would settle and fall into peaceful sleep, sometimes he would wake. When the hazel eyes opened, there were tears in them. A wholly different sort of pain stabbed at Dean's heart. He shifted back, making room for his brother in the bed with him. Sam clambered in without hesitation.

"You want to tell me?" Dean whispered. It was an established routine.

"That thing, the cherufe, was trying to take you," Sam said.

"Well, I'm a desirable acquisition," Dean joked. "What else?"

"I tried to grab hold of you, to pull you back but my hands were on fire too, like the monster's, and they were covered in blood." Sam shuddered.

Dean forced himself to stay calm and relaxed. "I thought I was the hot one. You're supposed to be the geeky smart one, remember? Of course, it is only natural you'd dream of being like me. But now you're awake, you are just going to have to accept that it's not going to happen."

Sam's eyes searched his brother's.

"There was blood on your face."

"Yeah, I remember your finger painting, thank you."

The uncertain shaky voice vanished, replaced by indignance. "You started it!"

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Prove it," Dean challenged with a smug smirk.

Sam grinned and shook his head. The grip of the nightmare was gone. He still remembered it, but it no longer held him in its clutches. He inspected his brother again. "Do you need more pills?"

"In a minute," Dean said.

Sam nodded, knowing why his brother was putting off the pain relief and allowing it, even though he knew that was selfish of him.

"OK Squirt, what's going on in that big brain of yours?" Dean pressed when Sam didn't speak.

"That man, Henry, he wasn't a monster."

"He summoned one, that's close enough."

"But he thought he was doing good. He said he thought it would only want one sacrifice a year, that's what the lore said too. But it wanted more, and the longer it went on the more sacrifices it demanded."

"What the hell were you doing talking to him?" Dean tried again to sit up and once again a combination of pain and Sam kept him down.

"I wasn't! I just heard, that's all."

Dean frowned. He suspected Sam had been eavesdropping on him and Mari, but the genuine worry and upset in his brother's eyes made Dean file that away for later punishment, maybe once Pastor Jim wasn't about for Sammy to hide behind. For now, he stuck with the issue.

"And you think killing off one dude a year, that would have been ok?"

"Of course not. But the woman, Wanda, thought she was doing good too. And in the end, they were both bad."

"People are nuts, Sammy. I've been telling you that for years."

"My point is, how do you know if you are really doing good or if you just think you are?"

"You mean us." Dean's voice had gone flat. He knew his brother struggled with the whole hunting thing but he was devastated to think Sam thought him no different than the crazy Kool-Aid gang.

Sam's big eyes blinked at him and Dean could see the love, the trust, and knew that wasn't what his little brother meant.

"I mean," Sam clarified, "how do we know if we are good or just think we are?"

Dean opened his mouth then closed it again. He didn't ask those kinds of questions. They only led to a headache. He knew they lied, and stole, and that some people would call that bad. But they didn't do it for personal gain. They did it so they could help people. When it came down to it, he trusted Dad and that was all there was to it for him. "Did you ask Dad?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He said to ask you."

Dean snorted. That sounded about right. Dad always used to do that when he was busy and Sam wanted to know why water was wet or why they didn't have a house.

"And you want to know how to know if you are really doing good or just think you are?" Dean clarified. He'd gotten good over the years at finding answers that, while not accurate, usually satisfied his brother, at least for a while.

"Yes."

"It's easy."

"It is?"

"Yeah." Dean grinned. "You ask your big brother and he'll set you right."

Sam flickered through surprise and exasperation before grinning back.

"The same big brother that broke the rules and nearly got melted by a lava monster?"

"Relax squirt, I'm fine."

"Only because I saved your ass."

A swarm of emotions scuttled across Dean's face and buried themselves in his eyes. Eventually he sighed dramatically and gave his little brother a condescending smile.

"Fine, you need the credit for this one? I'll let you have it," he offered generously.

"Yeah right, 'let me'."

"No really, it's all yours."

"Jerkface."

"Bitchbutt."

The door opened and John came in, he didn't look remotely surprised to find them both awake and in the bed. Sam quickly shifted back to the camp bed, squaring his shoulders a little and sitting upright. John came forward and rested a large hand on Dean's forehead.

"How's the pain?" he asked gruffly.

"Not bad," Dean lied.

Sam watched as his father checked Dean's wounds and bandages. He had let his brother distract him from his worries, chase them away like he'd chased away the nightmare.

His big brother was right of course. He often was, though Sam hated to admit it. Sam was awake now and he had to let go of dreams that weren't true. Like the dream of not hunting, of just being normal. He realised now that him thinking he wouldn't hunt was as ridiculous as Henry Shepherd thinking he could create a safe place by summoning a monster.

"Sammy, get the pills and some water." Dad's voice broke into his retrospection and he hopped off the bed to answer the order. He felt the scrutiny of the two pairs of eyes that followed him.

He would hunt, not because Dad said so. Not even because of Mom. But because that's where his family was, where his brother needed him. He might hate the life, but he loved his family more.

When he returned with the painkillers and glass, and handed them to his dad, there was something softer than usual in John's face.

"You ok, Kiddo?"

Sam nodded and though his father often frowned at silent responses, on this occasion he didn't. He just smiled a little sadly.

ℼℼℼ

By the following morning, John was already getting cabin fever and by the afternoon he'd popped out twice to 'run some errands'. Sam was restless too and Jim suspected the only reason Dean was not, was because the medication tended to knock him out. He was already getting impatient with people asking him how he was feeling and running around after him. Sam in particular had assigned himself the job of seeing to Dean's every need.

This was both a source of entertainment and annoyance for Dean. The next day, he sent his little brother all over the house and even outside a few times, running back and forth for a seemingly endless list of random items that Dean said he needed for something he was making.

When a hot and hard-breathing Sam finally paused, hands on knees to catch his breath, and ask what it was his brother was making, Dean just grinned at him and said he was making a sweaty-Sammy. A brief scuffle followed that ended abruptly when Dean yelped, bringing John running.

After a tirade at both and redressing Dean's chest, John went to a nearby bar. A contrite Sam, contrary to what Jim suspected Dean had really been trying to achieve, would barely leave his brother's side. He insisted on doing everything from straightening blankets to passing the cup every time Dean wanted his drink.

For the sanity of both boys, Jim invited Mrs Stewart, the head teacher at the local school and a good friend of his, to visit. After she'd met the boys and the pastor explained that the small family were staying with him while Dean recovered from an accident, she suggested Sam could attend classes at her school while they were in the area. Jim winked at Dean.

With Sam gleefully going to school and thriving on his homework, and John off doing whatever it was John did when not on a specific hunt - though he returned at least briefly, most days - the pastor took primary responsibility for Dean's recovery. And since it was clear that John was not going to speak to his son about his latest step towards adulthood, the pastor decided to take matters into his own hands.

When he entered the downstairs bedroom with the brown paper bag containing the condoms in his hand, Dean shifted uncomfortably.

"How are you feeling?"

"It itches like a bi –t." Dean looked sheepish as he corrected what he was going to say.

"You haven't been scratching, I hope?" Jim looked severely over his glasses at the young man.

"Not after the first time," Dean said with a frown.

"I'll get you some antihistamines, they can help."

Unfortunately for Dean, Jim did not mean immediately. He came forward and sat on the edge of the bed. Dean avoided his eye.

"I wanted to talk to you about your experience with Mariam Shepherd," he started directly.

Dean held up a hand to stop Jim talking, then pulled on a string that the pastor now noted had been rigged up, across the room and over the top of the door.

Just outside he heard a clatter, then Sam squealed.

Jim went out the door to find Sam sitting on the floor surrounded by several corn cobs which Jim was sure had been in the pantry. He had been planning to have the boys remove the husks so they could have them with dinner.

"What's up Sammy? Dropped some ears?" Dean called, mirth in his voice. Sam got up indignantly and stomped into the room. He had corn silk in his hair.

"It's eavesdropping not ears-dropping, idiot!"

"No, it's you listening in when you shouldn't! Again!" Dean shot back.

"What it is," the pastor interceded with a raised voice before calming his tone. "Is our dinner all over the hallway floor." He decided to separate the boys before bickering turned to arguing. "Samuel, it is not polite to listen at doorways. Please clean up the corn and then go and start preparing it so that we can have it with our fried chicken," he said firmly. Then he turned to look at Dean.

"Sorry, Pastor Jim," Dean said instantly. He did look genuinely contrite, so Jim limited his rebuke. After all, he was well aware the boy could have rigged up something much nastier. "You could have just advised me or your father of your concerns and let us deal with it."

Dean shrugged. "That would only work as long as we stay here." Jim understood that Sam too, would be well aware Dean could have rigged up something nastier and that this was a warning shot.

Jim cleared his throat. "As I said, I wanted to talk to you about your experience with this young lady I have heard about."

Dean blushed and stayed silent. There was a slight pout that Jim interpreted as Dean's irritation with his dad for reporting the incident.

"I am sorry, Dean. That is not what I would have wanted for you."

Dean looked up, confused. The Pastor chuckled.

"Much as I would advocate it, and certainly wish you were at least a little older, I am not so naive as to expect a young man such as yourself to save himself for marriage," he said. "But if it had to happen, I would have hoped for something more … meaningful."

"It saved my life, that was pretty meaningful," Dean said.

"Indeed, and I for one am very glad that you are still with us. But, …" the pastor paused, gathering his thoughts. "I do not know how much you remember of your life before, of your mother," he spoke carefully. He knew the topic was a sore one for the boy.

Dean shrugged, unwilling to comment.

"I only bring it up because, as you are well aware, your mother and father loved each other very much."

Dean nodded.

"Unions born of such love bring a joy and fulfilment far beyond the physical. I would hate for you to get caught up in the purely physical and miss out on the true joy."

Dean's frown was one of doubtful contemplation rather than dispute.

"I hold you in very high regard, Dean. You deserve the best. I hope you will not settle for less." The pastor left it there. He hoped he had planted the seed that there could be more to it, if the boy would open himself up emotionally one day.

He patted the boy's knee and got up, leaving the paper bag. There was no point in kidding himself that the contents wouldn't be needed. Given the Winchesters' lifestyle, there was little chance of the boy finding a nice steady girlfriend and waiting. Indeed, there was little chance of him ever settling down unless things changed. In the meantime, John's attitude to the subject wouldn't encourage chastity.

ℼℼℼ

As his wounds started to heal, Dean quickly got impatient with being laid up, of course he could feel almost normal once in a comfortable position, but movement quickly reminded him that he was not fully recovered yet. Jim went out of his way to find safe activities to keep him occupied.

The church had received a large number of donations for a recent Goodwill drive, and Jim brought home some boxes so that Dean could help him sort through everything. Looking at the state of some of Sam and Dean's clothes, he considered topping up their wardrobes from the items too. Afterall, surely the Winchester boys qualified as much as anyone for the services the charity provided. Assuming John didn't go on a pride rant.

John had been gone more and more, though neither of the boys seemed particularly surprised by this. Indeed, Sam almost seemed relieved. When John was there in the evenings, the youngster would find some quiet activity to occupy himself. However, when John was gone, Sam would bounce around the room, chatter away about all manner of things, and bug his brother to play games with him.

Most nights Dean might begrudgingly play a hand of cards before insisting he was tired and just wanted to watch TV. So both Sam and Jim were surprised when suddenly one night, after Sam had tentatively suggested they play something, Dean turned off the TV instantly and grinned.

"Check under my bed," he said. Sam grinned back and jumped up. "Right hand side!" Dean added urgently, calling after his brother's retreating back with a grimace. He avoided the pastor's eye.

A few minutes later, Sam returned carrying a battered box. Jim recognised it from a large pile of board games he'd had Dean check. Those with all their pieces had been boxed back up to go to the charity. This one had been in the pile for broken or incomplete games. As Sam put it down on the table, Jim noticed the name on it had been altered. It now said: 'Guess What'.

"I thought you said this was lame?" Sam said cautiously, as if expecting some sort of trick.

"It was, I improved it," Dean grinned.

Carefully, Sam opened the lid. Inside looked as it should, though Jim noticed the signs of repairs Dean had made. Sam pulled out the plastic stands and tipped one so the cards stood up. Looking over Sam's shoulder, Jim frowned. On each card, the picture of the character had been replaced by a picture of a monster that they hunted.

"I figured, since you're a hunter now, this might be more useful," Dean said, watching his brother carefully for his reaction.

Sam's eyes moved over the cards. Then he looked at Dean and grinned.

"Cool!" he said.

Jim shook his head as the boys settled each side of the coffee table with their trays of cards.

"Does your monster have claws?" Sam asked eagerly, starting first without waiting for it to be agreed.

"Nope," Dean said. Sam flipped down several of his cards.

"Does your monster react to silver?" Dean asked.

Jim watched them play. Despite the alterations to the game, he couldn't help but smile. Both had lost some part of their innocence on this last hunt, just as they had lost so much in the past, but they had each other. And he had faith that, in the end, that was God's plan.

The End

AN: So that's all folks - well for this story. I really hope you enjoyed it. Lots more in the works ✍️. I have part-stories and drafts for lots more Shadows stories as well as more Brotherhood AU and the first part of another AU story not related to either that I just need to polish.

Thank you for reading and if you have a mo, please do drop me a line. All feedback helps me improve and even a quick thumbs up or smiley can really make my day xx

I hope you and yours are all well.

Love and hugs to all.