—SNS-SNS—Chapter Five-SNS-SNS—

Victor would never be certain how it was the three of them made it back to his cabin, but the stubborn streak that was such a challenge at times also apparently was an asset. Dean white-knuckled the walk back, pausing only once to toss his cookies and once when he nearly walked into a tree. Somehow he made it up the steps and into the cabin, but as soon as Sam guided him down to the bed he was out for the count.

"Probably just as well, since he's going to need stitches." mused Sam.

"Can you see well enough?" jabbed Victor without any real heat.

"At this point I could probably do it in my sleep." came the reply as the first aid supplies were handed to Sam. And what a commentary on our lives THAT is, he thought. Threading the needle took a few tries, as he could feel his adrenaline waning and every ache and pain warred to be acknowledged. Tamping down on the hurt, however, Sam blinked to focus, and then tended swiftly to Dean's injuries. Once finished, he shook him awake, asked the usual concussion questions, received the finger for his troubles, then let Dean sink back into sleep. Sam stared at his brother who had always seemed larger-than-life and indestructible, and felt anew the fear of what life would be like without him if they did not find a way to free him from his damn demon deal. Reaching out, he rested his hand on Dean's arm, ostensibly to check his pulse, but really just to settle himself. It didn't matter which of them was injured or how deep the crap was they were in, his brother's presence never failed to provide a sense of calm and protection that he had taken for granted for far too long. "Going to figure this out Dean." he whispered, promising.

A rustling across the room reminded Sam that Henriksen was there and had been injured too. He forced himself to rise, stifling a groan, and made his way slowly over to the couch where he had landed. Sitting on the coffee table in front of him, Sam reached for his arm to tend to the cuts there. Victor could tell the only way he was going to be allowed to help the young man in front of him was if he capitulated, so he meekly held his arm out for inspection and submitted to the first aid, finding a strange and surprising sense of comfort in being cared for by someone else. His life, even with a partner in the FBI, had been a very solitary one, and rarely did he have another person care enough to put him first and make sure he was whole. He swallowed the unfamiliar emotions that were stirred and instead forced himself to refocus on visually checking Sam for the injuries he might need addressed.

Sam finished bandaging Victor's arm, and then handed the bandages over without being asked and lifted his shirt to show the ragged, blood soaked bandages on his side. Victor clucked in dismay and set to work redoing the bandaging. He checked Sam's bruises, thankfully determining no ribs were broken, and then started to get up so Sam could lay down on the couch. He was stopped by a hand, gently pressing him back down. "Lay down. I'll need to do concussion checks on Dean through the night, and it's better if I do them -" he hastened to finish even as Victor started to offer help, "He wakes rough, but recognizes me pretty quickly. You, he might not…" Victor read between the lines what was not said, not all that long ago YOU were the enemy, and he might not remember that has changed. He simply nodded, watching Sam slowly and gingerly slide down to sit on the floor, back against the bed, long legs stretching out in front of him. He tipped his head back to rest and Dean, seemingly without waking, moved a hand to rest on Sam's shoulder. Shaking his head again at the closeness of these two, and feeling an ache of emptiness for the lack of a close relationship like that in his own life, Victor stretched out on the couch, only to startle as a blanket came sailing over the couch back to land on him. He heard the smirk, but didn't bother to sit up, just gave the universal sign of "thanks" and closed his eyes to sleep.

The morning brought lots of groans as everyone began functioning but at a very slow pace. Hot showers and sweet, heavenly coffee helped, however, and a few hours later they were out the door and down the path. Finding the remains as they had been left in the cabin, the three men made quick work of clean-up, burning the bodies and making sure that nothing would indicate that they had ever been there. Sam had stared pensively at the fire until Dean smacked his arm, another silent exchange clearly telling him to let it go, that they had not had any chance of saving the girl. Sam reluctantly shook his head in agreement, and then they finished their tasks silently.

Back at Henriksen's cabin, the Winchesters gathered their gear, knowing they needed to be on their way.

"What's next?" Dean questioned Victor.

"I keep hunting." he replied. Both boys nodded, not really surprised by the response.

"If you can, find yourself a hunting buddy." Sam encouraged, "Someone to watch your back."

"Easier said than done." Victor acknowledged.

"Agreed. We know of a few good ones, though, might be worth trying to connect." Sam said thoughtfully.

Dean nodded in full agreement. "If nothing else, hunting with someone more experienced will give you a chance to learn, beyond what you can get from books." He paused and looked away, then pierced Victor with a stare. "We grieved you once, man. Take care of yourself, and don't die." A sense of warmth flooded Henriksen at the level of caring from these young men who by all rights should hate him, and he nodded, shaking hands with both firmly.

"You boys do the same. And if you ever need me, for ANYTHING, you call, y'hear?" They both nodded in reply, then grabbing their bags, headed out down the path towards the Impala and wherever their journey might take them next. Watching them as they walked away, body language showing awareness of each other even without words exchanged, Victor sent up a silent prayer for protection over them. There was something rare and priceless in the selfless nature of these Winchesters, and he was beyond grateful to have been given the opportunity to see who they really were. Looking down at the paper that had been thrust into his hand by Sam with several hunter's numbers, he stepped back into the cabin, pulling out his phone as he went.

"Bobby Singer? My name is Victor, and I got your number from Sam Winchester - "

THE END