SquidgeWorld Archive

Not Shadow
By Anne Higgins

Dean Winchester hated stupid costumes. He hated the expense and the use of dumb props when he could do just fine with a fake ID and smile. But what he really and truly hated was how hot his brother looked in the freaking jumpsuit. Could it possible get more uncool than lusting over a sibling in polyester? But, shit. The stupid blue thing hugged Sam's shoulders, then tapered down to hug a waist normally hidden by layers. If that weren't bad enough, the leather tool belt made Dean's eyes drift where they absolutely should not drift. It all made him … testy. So he bitched about the cost and the stupidity of it all while Sam smirked at him proving he knew damned well what gutter Dean's mind lurked in.

Just freaking perfect. He was on the verge of saying something melodramatic like take me now before they even got to the victim's front door. That being unwise in the middle of a city street and downright tacky given what they'd come to Chicago to investigate, he switched gears and teased Sam about a school play Sam had appeared in years ago. Kind of a subtle "keep your hand and eyes off my ass because I know I look good in this stupid jumpsuit, too" warning. Or at least it should have been a passion killer to talk about a time when Sam was a gawky dork, but damn, he looked hot in his freaking costume.

Dean sighed and didn't resist when Sam pulled him into a kiss the minute they were safely inside the apartment building.

Sam smiled when he released Dean, then said, "You are so damn p-"

"If you say pretty, I swear you won't get any for a week."

Sam's smile turned into a smirk.

Okay, so he'd shot too high. Easy fix. "For at least two hours," he amended.

That wiped the smirk off of demon-boy's face. "Fine, but you're stripping for me when we get back to the hotel."

Dean's mouth went dry. "Deal. Now get your hands off my ass and knock on the super's door."

Sam muttered something about a killjoy, then knocked.

To Dean's disgust, the phony alarm company uniforms worked like a charm and they were soon alone in the murdered girl's apartment. Nothing like blood everywhere to kill a guy's libido. Something had done a nasty job of ripping the body apart. Yeah, it all looked like their kind of gig all right. He got out the usual gadgets and started taking readings.

"So, you talked to the cops."

"Yeah, I spoke to Amy, a charming, perky officer of the law."

"What did you find out?"

"Well, she's a Sagittarius. She loves tequila. I mean, whew. …"

"Dean!" Sam snapped jerking him into his arms.

He smiled at Sam, amazed he could still wind him up. "Did you forget that you fixed it so my parts don't work for anyone else?"

"That smile of yours still works fine."

Dean gave him a kiss. "Possessive bastard," he chided him, squirming out of his embrace. "Anyway, that love of tequila made Amy talkative in the absence of something more than my smile. Turns out our vic's heart was missing."

"Shit."

"Or words to that affect."

*

Sam entered the bar and shook his head slightly at the sight of Dean flirting with the pretty bartender. While it was true he preferred to have Dean glued to his side that was because he enjoyed his aggravating brother/lover's company, not because of an irrational jealous streak. But Dean loved teasing him and who was he to deprive the man of his pleasures? Besides, Dean sparkled when he was running a con, even if it was simply creating the illusion that his mark might get lucky.

He sat down where Dean could see him and turned his attention back to his research. Dean wandered over in less than a minute. Sam had to fight a smile to give him the expected scowl. "Having fun?"

Dean grinned which wasn't fair given this wasn't the sort of bar where Sam could kiss it off his face. "Oh, yeah," he said holding up a napkin with numbers scrawled on it – no doubt the poor doomed-to-frustration girl's phone number.

"You are such a jerk," he said with a shake of his head.

The smugness factor went up a few degrees instead of dissolving into shame. "Actually, she forced it on me." Ah, so all of the points for annoying Sam and none of the guilt over leading her on. Right.

"Did you learn anything?"

Dean sighed, his mirth fading. "Nothing useful."

They went over what each of them had learned which amounted to a whole lot of useless tidbits. They'd have to dig deeper, but finding at least a hint at where to look would have been good. Then Sam looked up and discovered the mother load of hints in a familiar face. Meg. Now how likely was that?

*

Dean walked out of the bar only vaguely listening to Sam going on about coincidences and how the chick had to be part of this mess, but he got the jest of it and handed over the keys to the Impala. Have to take a cab back to the hotel. He took a step toward a line of waiting taxis, but a big hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Dean."

He sighed, knowing he was not going to escape without talking. Damn, he hated this part. "I just forget sometimes how much he hated me." Luggage. God, had he really done that? Had he really treated his brother like some ratty old suitcase?

Not the right district for it, but he didn't fight Sam when he pulled him close. "I didn't hate you," Sam said, reminding him that most of the "he" in question was holding him. "I hated myself because I knew this is the life I needed to live and I didn't want to do it. You were just a convenient target."

Dean knew that wasn't the whole truth – everyone hated their sibling from time to time and Dean was the first to admit that he could be a pain in the ass.

His slowness to get the point, earned him a hug, then more soft, earnest words. "That part of me is gone now, babe. There's no place else I want to be, no one else I want to be with."

"I know," he said, annoyed that his eyes were getting … moist. He was turning into such a girl. Be wearing pink soon at this rate. He opted to stop this revolting turn of events by kissing his lover in the middle of a public sidewalk. Sam had a thing for that sort of display – liked being able to show anyone who happened to glance their way that they belonged to each other and Dean had to admit a growing fondness for it, too. So not good – one of them should have some sense of restraint and how crazy had the world gotten when he had to be the one?

He drew back before the inevitable drifting hands made their way over his anatomy. "I'm okay and you've got one hell of a bitch to follow."

Sam pressed a kiss to his forward, then nodded. "I have a feeling that's exactly what she is."

"Your Spidy-Sense tingling, Sammy?"

He rolled his eyes. "Dude, I've told you, I don't have some secret power to sense demons. I've just got a hunch."

Yeah, but it was so much fun to send him up. "Whatever you say, bro. Whatever you say."

*

Sam took great satisfaction from the sight of Meg going flying through the window to fall to her woefully quick death. Too bad he couldn't deal with the daevas in a similar fashion. He always liked ripping apart anything that dared hurt his Dean.

He cut Dean loose, then stopped him from standing up. "It's over. You don't have to move."

Dean gave him a stubborn look, but Sam ignored it and scooped him up into his arms. One of the annoying details of their new reality was that Dean paid for immortality and fast healing with mind-numbing pain at the slightest injury. And his current injuries weren't slight.

Pressing a kiss against the rapidly healing gash on Dean's forehead, he carried him over to the window so they could both get a look at Meg's body.

"Ding dong, the wicked bitch is dead," Dean said, then let himself relax into Sam's hold. "Get me out of here."

Sam carried him down to the car, then washed off the blood with a clean rag and some water they had stashed in the trunk. Regular water, not holy water. They didn't need that to heal their injuries anymore and truth be told it stung a little – like alcohol in a cut. A little reminder that demon energy was the reason neither had died more than a year ago.

Dean returned the favor, getting rid of the bloody slashes across Sam's cheek. Would have been a real mess if the cuts beneath had lasted more than a few seconds. They were both lucky they'd bled enough to hide the healed skin from Meg's sharp little eyes.

Clean up done, Sam cupped Dean's face in his hands, then touched foreheads and feed Dean some energy. They'd used to need to have sex to do this, but Sam had learned how to manipulate the energy web linking them with enough skill that he could give Dean a jolt from across the room. Of course, they both still preferred the sex-route, but it could be damned inconvenient at times like this. "You okay now?"

"Right as rain, but I may still die of embarrassment," he answered. "Can't believe we walked into that trap."

Sam didn't argue. It hadn't been one of their better moments, but they'd both gotten too excited over the prospect of finally catching the thing that had killed their mom. "At least we didn't call Dad." They'd thought about it, but they were indestructible and John Winchester wasn't. Losing one parent to the thing was enough and both of them had admitted to the uneasy feeling that Dad's destiny revolved around dying with it.

Dean nodded. "Bitch still managed to get him into town without our help." He started the car up, then pulled out onto the street. "I'm not liking the implications of this."

Yeah. They were the only form of bait Dad would go for. "Guess we've gotten careless with the immortality. We aren't the only ones who can get hurt."

"No, we're not." Dean was quiet for the rest of the drive back to the motel, and Sam didn't feel the need to draw him out of it. They'd seriously misjudged the situation and their confidence had suffered the ravages their bodies had already dealt with. As long as Dad lived, they needed to be a hell of a lot more careful.

With that in mind, Sam kept their gear with him when they went back to the room, but it gave him an awkward enough bundle that Dean went inside first. His blood went cold when he heard Dean snap, "Hey!"

He tensed up to protect him, but stopped when the dark figure near the window turned and for the first time the current version of Sam Winchester found himself looking at his father.

"Dad," Dean whispered in an almost reverent prayer.

"Hey boys," John said with a soft smile, then Dean moved easily into his arms.

Something swelled up inside of Sam. He hadn't known what he would feel. A lot of the part of himself he'd lost when he'd died had taken the resentment of his father as well as his brother with it. At the same time, the memories of all the fights remained. And some of what they'd been through made him angry at Dad on Dean's behalf, but to see him. … All the pain Sam had felt since that last angry separation welled up inside him and he couldn't move for a few moments. Then he managed to walk closer as Dad released Dean.

He exchanged a look with his lover, drew strength from it, then met Dad's gaze.

"Hi, Sam."

He let the bag drop from his arm. "Hi, Dad." So damned awkward, he didn't know what to say or do. Dean came to his rescue by launching into a description of the trap they'd escaped.

Their ending up bait to ensnare him didn't seem to surprise Dad. "I've been expecting it to try something like this. It's why I tried to keep you away from me. I'm getting close."

Dad alone with the demon, not a good idea at all. "We need to be there when you catch it."

"No, I don't want you two caught in the crossfire. I don't want you hurt."

He shook his head and wished he could tell them the truth, but he knew Dad would never accept it. He tried to say what little he could. "Dad, you don't have to worry about us."

"Of course I do. I'm your father." Sam's heart clenched. He wanted to make this right, but how? Dad beat him to it. "Listen, Sammy. Last time we were together we had one hell of a fight."

"Yes, sir."

"It's good to see you again. It's been a long time."

"Too long," he answered, then he was in his father's arms. Gods it felt good. A part of him wanted to stay there forever, but their new reality didn't leave much room for their dad to be a big part of their lives. With great regret and a sad smile, he drew back.
John's smile held nothing but happiness. Sam knew he would always picture it when he thought of him, but before he could think of anything to say, Dad flying across the room.

Sam blinked uncertain what was happening, then all too familiar claws raked his flesh and heaved him against the far wall. He heard Dean cry out in horror. No! Dean! In one smooth motion he got to his feet and launched himself forward. For one brief second he covered Dean's body with his own, then the daeva was ripping into him, dragging him off to rip apart, Dean temporarily forgotten.

Claws savaged him. It hurt, but the beginning of a slash healed before the daeva could finish the wound. He needed to get these things off of him and get Dean out of here. He needed –

"Eyes! Flare!" Dean shouted, then the room filled with a brilliant light. Sam didn't have any trouble looking straight at the source and saw Dean scrambling to his feet, the bag clutched in his hands. "Sam, get Dad!" he shouted and moved toward the door.

Dad? Horror gripped Sam even as he obeyed. He'd forgotten all about Dad.

*

Dean staggered out of the hotel and over to his car. God, he hated this. Hated hurting so much he'd have done about anything to make it stop, hated leaving someone he loved to someone else to rescue, but it made more sense. Sam would have to hide it, but he was strong enough to carry Dad easily. Dean lacked the same level of strength even when his nerve endings weren't screaming like they'd hit an acid bath. Sometimes he really missed the days when he'd simply bleed and get over it.

He tossed the bag into the back seat and had a brief thought of his father curled up beside it to sleep off his wounds, but no, that couldn't happen. Hell, if Dean hadn't spotted the flares Sam had dropped into the bag, Dad would never have done anything again. Saved by dumb luck despite every blunder his sons had made.

"All right, come on," Sam said, helping Dad over to the car. "We don't have much time. As soon as the flare's out, they'll be back."

"Wait! Sam, wait!" He stopped the move to put Dad in the back while he scrambled to collect his thoughts. Somehow looking into his father's bloody face made the words flow, "Dad, you can't come with us."

For once Sam was slow to catch up. "What? What are you talking about?"

"You boys – you're beat to hell." It broke his heart that the only protest Dad offered was his desire to look after them when both of them had already healed beneath the blood.

"We'll, be all right," he assured him with every ounce of conviction he could convey. "We almost got you killed in there. They'll try again. They'll use us to get to you." He sighed. "You're stronger without us with you." And so were they without him. Sucked, but it was the truth.

They were all silent for a minute, then Sam nodded his agreement. "Just, Dad, don't try to face the demon alone. Send for us when it's time."

"I will." Dad gave them both a quick hug, then walked over to a big dark truck. He got in and all they could do was drive away. A few seconds later they were in the Impala and headed in the opposite direction.

Neither of them said a word until Chicago was two hours behind them and Dean spotted a sign for a rest stop. Even better it looked deserted for the moment. "Best get cleaned up," he said, once the car was stopped, then headed for the men's room with the water jug.

He'd washed the blood off his face and gotten the jug more than half-filled before Sam showed up.

Sam washed and Dean figured that if no one looked closely at their clothes they wouldn't have any trouble checking into a hotel. Yeah, he could go for a room with a decent bed. They didn't need to sleep, but he wanted to lie down and not think for a few hours.

He felt a warmth move through him and recognized the energy boost. Sam was topping him off without even looking at him, let alone touching him. Hated it when he did that. It was an intimate thing to do, so damnit, he wanted the intimacy, too. He wanted to say something, but Sam had already … fled from the room. Fortunately there wasn't any place but the car for him to run to.

Dean stopped a few feet away from the car and looked at Sam through the windshield. God, he looked miserable, like all the blame in the world had come to rest on those broad shoulders. Stupid. Dean deserved a good part of it, but Sammy never had liked sharing. He sighed, putting the water and a stash of paper towels into the trunk. He glanced around and saw another couple of cars pulling into the rest stop. So much for privacy.

He got behind the wheel, started the engine, then drove away from the lights, but pulled over instead of continuing back out onto the highway. "Sammy," he said, putting the car in park, "I could use a kiss."

Sam shuddered, then swiftly moved to give him the requested kiss. Oh, not just guilt. When their lips parted Dean asked, "You wanna tell me why you think I should be mad at you?"

Sam pulled away, but Dean caught hold of his jacket and didn't let him slide to the far end of the seat. "I'm so sorry," he sighed.

"What for?"

"Dad."

"Dude, I screwed up, too. You mad at me?"

"No, of course not. But, Dean, I forgot all about him. All I saw was you in pain and I couldn't think of anyone else."

"Yeah, I noticed you came charging to my rescue." Not to Dad's. Didn't make much sense to save the immortal while the mortal was being ripped to pieces, at least it didn't to anyone who didn't understand the weird mojo they had between them.

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are." He sighed. "Look, Sammy, I've spent months enjoying this whole 'Dean is my world' thing you've got going for me. Just didn't get that it might have a downside until tonight."

Sam's head came to rest on his shoulder. "He's out there all alone."

"He was before and he was doing okay," Dean answered, rubbing his cheek against Sam's hair. "I love him, I worry about him, but he'll be fine without us."

"Simple as that?"

Dean snorted, "Oh, yeah, like anything in our lives is ever simple. I had to learn move when I'm in pain. You've got to learn to focus on less durable asses when we're hunting."

"I'll try."

"No way, Sammy. Not to sound like friggin' Yoda, but you'll do. Otherwise, Dad faces that fucking demon on his own."

"Not gonna happen. I'll beat this." He gave Dean another kiss to seal the pact.

"I know you will." He put the car back in gear, then accelerated out onto the highway.

Sam twisted around until he was angled enough to rest his head on Dean's thigh, and Dean opted to drive one-handed so the other could rest in Sam's hair. If thinking of anyone besides Dean proved even half as hard as functioning through the pain had been for Dean, Sammy was in for one heck of a fight. No doubt about it, the side effects of immortality could be a real bitch.

Dean sighed and thought of their father somewhere out there on a dark road, still hurt and alone. Soon as it was safe for him, they'd track him down again and do their best to get him through his quest alive. Although Dean often wondered if his father even wanted to survive – John Winchester had never done anything to move on, never tried to give himself someone or something to survive for.

Almost as if he could hear his thoughts, Sam squeezed his knee and said, "I love you."

He smiled in darkness of the car. Yeah, side effects could be a bitch, but he would never be alone. "I love you, too, Sammy." They gave each other someone to live for and that was … everything. "Love you, too."

end