Arc 5: Children, Part 1: Crumbling

Dean worried about his brother more and more everyday, which he realized was ironic since Sam was also worrying about him, and really, shouldn't that make more sense considering Dean was the one going to Hell? Dean tried to tell himself that he had just grown too attached to the 'Sam-on-vacation' Sam, the Sam who smiled and joked and actually made some effort to relax. Being back in the field showed off Sam's serious side, his sometimes vicious side, and Dean just had to get used to that again.

Of course that didn't mean Dean felt any better about what happened in Texas.

It wasn't that Texas was a bust. Far from it. The town was infested with four demons, which might have been a challenge if not for Sam's powers, and the fact that compared to seven anything less than that would always seem like a cakewalk. No, the disappointment of the hunt came when once again the demons—even under Sam's mojo—couldn't tell them anything about the true mastermind behind the crossroads deals. Or so they thought.

Sam was so angry and frustrated by the time they captured the last of the four demons that he repeatedly soaked it in holy water until even Dean wanted to tell his brother to stop. It didn't hurt the host, and Dean certainly didn't care about the demon, but seeing Sam that heartlessly cruel made Dean nauseous. Sam's eyes shimmered the entire time, and the trapped and broken demon looked honestly terrified. Being doused in holy water didn't seem to be the reason either. It was just Sam.

Before sending the demon back to Hell, Sam asked one more time if it knew the identity of the crossroad demon's master. Dean and Sasha were behind Sam now since Sam was crouched just in front of their captive's devil's trap. Dean couldn't see Sam's face but something must have changed in it because the demon's black eyes suddenly went wide and it tried to scramble away.

"No one knows!" it cried, "No one. You'll…you'll never find them…not unless they want to be found. And believe me…your powers would mean nothing if you did."

"They?" Sam repeated in a snarl that Dean was glad he couldn't see, "There's more than one of them? Tell me what you know!"

A sickly smile twitched at the demon's mouth since Sam's usual resonance and command was not present in those words. "No one knows their name or how to summon them," the demon said, "Only the emissary at the crossroads. The demon you killed." It smirked then, clearly getting the reaction it wanted from Sam since it no longer looked quite as scared. "But there is only one," it said, "They are only one."

"What do you mean?" Sam demanded softly.

The demon just scoffed, having regained its confidence. "Azazel may have chosen you as his successor but I will not submit to you."

Upon hearing that challenge, Sam slowly stood up, looking somehow taller than usual and strangely menacing. "You say that like you have a choice," he said too cynically, "Tell me all that you know," he commanded. Dean had started to recognize how Sam's voice changed when he used his powers, and the sound of it made him shiver.

The demon was cowering again, so suddenly that Dean had to wonder if there really was something about Sam that changed and Dean just couldn't see it. But even though the demon could not overcome Sam's power, all it said was, "If you face the keeper of the contracts…all of you will die."

Sam stood so stock-still then that it made Dean twitch to do something, anything. Dean looked to Sasha whose brow was tightly knit. Sam was always more calculating and fierce during hunts, but this was one step further, back to that methodical Sam that made Dean nervous. Dean knew Sasha could feel it too.

The demon screamed so unexpectedly that Dean jumped, watching as black smoke poured from the host's mouth and disappeared downward, leaving behind the body of a dead girl. That was expected. They had discovered that the girl had been hit by a car just before the demon first possessed her. It was eerie though how Sam no longer used words to banish the demons. Dean had jokingly said he thought the whole "Go to Hell" thing was pretty awesome. But Sam didn't need words. His powers were far beyond that now, and as much as Sam continued to be wary of using them too much, he used them anyway—anything and everything to save Dean.

This hunt was another harsh blow to their plight considering what they had just heard, but at least they had some information, ominous as it was.

Dean stepped up behind Sam, intent on saying something smartass or at least something about how any news was better than no news. But Sam was standing too still and Dean's grip was weak when he reached for his brother's arm. Sam immediately shook it off and glanced brief and angry to the side, just enough that Dean saw unmistakably the mottled yellow eyes that were not his brother. Panic seized Dean immediately and he grabbed Sam's arm more fiercely, forcing his brother to face him.

Hazel. Warm brown and green that looked so distraught, so sorrowful that Dean couldn't believe cruel yellow had ever been there. He just needed sleep, he told himself. He was imagining things.

Somehow managing to summon a smile, Dean gently pat Sam's arm where he had just grabbed it. "Hey, one out of four ain't bad. You look like someone just ran over your puppy." Or like you want to run over someone else's puppy, Dean thought, though he tried to shake the memory of yellow from his mind. It was just like that time he saw his own eyes black in the mirror in Bobby's bathroom. It wasn't real.

Sam smiled despite himself and the tension started to ease from his body, leaving him looking perfectly normal and Sam-like again. "So I guess that makes you my puppy then, huh?" he snarked back. But then he deflated just as quickly, his tall form slouching as he said, "I ruined it though. I ruined it. I…killed the crossroads demon and ruined everything."

"Sam…"

"She could have told us how to find the real demon and I killed her! Finally, someone gives us an answer. But they might as well have said 'None Shall Pass' because how the hell are we supposed to find this they, them demon something if no one knows its name or how to contact it other than the one demon I killed!"

"Easy," Sasha broke in, smiling over at the brothers with ease and confidence if only to force a little on them, "We give it a reason to come looking for us."

Dean grinned. How did they ever manage as just a duo? "And if chasing down demons doesn't do the trick, maybe using your mojo to send a few down looking for it might. Just coz they don't know its name doesn't mean they can't find it."

This suggestion seemed to pacify Sam like he might have been about to snap back there but now he was bringing himself down, slowly but surely. They still had time. There was still time. Dean kept telling himself that. It was one of the few things that kept him sane in all this. That and his wayward partners.

Sam turned back to the body inside the devil's trap and his expression melted into sympathy. Dean had to choke down an inappropriate smile upon seeing it. That was Sammy, no doubt about it.

"We can't just leave her here," Sam said, "Her family already had to deal with a car accident and the miracle that she survived. Now they have to lose her again."

"She's home," Sasha said, walking up next to them finally, "At least there's that. We can make her comfortable. Clean up the trap. Someone will find her." Sasha's hand moved up to squeeze Sam's shoulder, that sad, sweet smile beaming.

They were one step closer. As long as Dean thought of it that way then he believed they could succeed. They could beat the deal without Dean having to lose anything or anyone in the process. Dean glanced at Sam as he thought that, remembering the momentary vision of yellow eyes. It wasn't real. It couldn't have been. But then Dean had to wonder what had made the demon they just exorcized look so damn afraid.

Azazel's chosen successor.

Dean didn't believe that, refused to believe it, but his subconscious seemed to like that line of thinking.

While Dean had remained nightmare free since before their stay at the Roadhouse, the dreams came back with newfound gusto after Texas. Every time Dean closed his eyes he saw that same yellow, mottled and horrible and staring at him from his brother's grinning face. That wasn't Sam, Dean told himself whenever he woke up shivering and covered in sweat. It wasn't Sam.

Sasha was always right there too, roused by Dean's dreaming and asking what was wrong. Dean couldn't tell him. He just couldn't. "Another nightmare," he would whisper, snuggling back into bed and trying not to be too obvious when he glanced over at Sam, always still and peaceful, sleeping like a rock in the other bed.

"Okay," Sasha would say, not pressuring Dean for more but clearly wanting to. Sasha would just kiss Dean's temple, enveloping Dean in his arms easily, and Dean allowed it, weak as it made him feel when he realized how dependent he was on Sasha now, on Sasha being strong when Dean couldn't be. Just like Dean had always been dependent on Sam. And before that, Dad.

Dean wanted to be the one that was needed not the other way around. He wanted to be that for Sasha, but even more so for Sam. Dean couldn't quite envelope either of his companions but he wanted to try. Dean needed to be stronger because he saw how Sam was crumbling and that scared him. Scared him to think those yellow eyes might hide somewhere beneath the surface.

No. Dean was strong for them. And Sam was not the frickin' anti-Christ or the second coming of the Yellow-Eyed Demon. Dean wouldn't allow it. He protected them even if he was physically the weakest. Even if both of his companions had crazy powers. Dean protected them. And he always would. He refused to leave them, refused to leave Sam to some unknown fate and for Sasha to be his brother's keeper when Dean was gone. They deserved more than that.

After Texas they were on their way to Indiana to stop at Sasha's storage places before finally making their way to Massachusetts. The other storage place was in Pennsylvania, and the third, which they would not be going to, was on the other side of the country in northern California. Sasha said he needed to change out a few things, and that stopping at just the two of them would be fine. Dean remembered that the one in Indiana was for Sasha's non-hunter stuff though, so he wasn't quite sure what needed to be 'changed out' there.

It was while staying the night in a little hotel in Illinois—not far from their destination but they had been too tired to carry on—that Dean had what he considered the worst of his dreams yet. He was glad that this time he and Sasha had gotten their own room, even though they usually didn't bother, unless one or both of them was particularly frisky, that is. Then it was just polite. Sam said he didn't mind sharing a room with Dean and Sasha together in the other bed just so long as nothing happened while he was there. So far they had only crossed the line once, and not by much, but Sam sure knew how to throw a pillow damn hard.

That night Dean was brought back into the too recent past and at first he didn't realize he was dreaming. It was too normal, the way everything had actually happened, right up until Dean touched Sam's arm after the exorcism in Texas. Again there was that flash of yellow, but this time when Dean grabbed Sam a second time there was no relief of hazel eyes. The mottled yellow was still there.

Sam grinned. "That demon was right you know," he said, his arm shooting out to grab Dean by the throat, "You can't break your deal, Dean. That pledge is binding. Why fight it?" Sam was still smiling while Dean choked on the strong hold, unable to even struggle. "You won't be in Hell alone for long, Dean," Sam continued, "I promise you that." The yellow eyes glowed then and suddenly Dean met air, thrown to hit the far wall hard enough that he couldn't immediately get up or move.

"Dean!" Dean heard Sasha call, having almost forgotten the incubus since he was coughing and gasping for air, crumbled on the floor. He heard another cry then, one of agony and pleading. Dean looked up and saw that Sam was doing something to Sasha. He couldn't tell what it was since all Sam was doing was pointing an arm at the incubus, but it had Sasha on his knees, screaming.

"S-Stop…" Dean tried, but even if his voice had been heard, he knew better than to think it would be heeded.

Sasha's screaming stopped and Sam dropped his arm. Sasha wasn't dead or unconscious though. He was getting up. And when he looked over at Dean his eyes shone incubus red, his fangs glistening dangerously as he smiled. The sight didn't have the usual effect on Dean. Not even a little. This was the dream, Dean realized. Just like that first dream when it was both of them and Dean couldn't get away.

"No!" Dean choked out, trying to get to his feet, to move, escape, anything, but his body hurt too much after striking the wall. Sasha and Sam were walking so frustratingly slow towards him too, and there was nothing he could do. He only managed to get himself into a sitting position and press himself back against the wall. "Wake up," Dean said to himself, clenching his eyes closed, "Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

Dean opened his eyes again, hoping to see their motel room's ceiling, but instead he saw Sam and Sasha again, demon eyes blazing.

"You're not real!" Dean screamed as Sasha lifted him bodily from the floor. The incubus slammed Dean back into the wall then and Dean stiffened. Everything hurt. Everything.

"That's not a very nice thing to say," Sasha said through a growl, grinning just as cruelly as Sam was now, "We just wanna play, Dean. Don't you wanna play with us? Don't you want to…stay…with us?'

"You don't really think Sasha can resist me all on his own, do you?" Sam asked scornfully, pressing in close to Dean so that there was hardly any room to breathe, "This is the future in store for me, Dean. Sasha too, pulled to my power, under my will. So you won't be alone for long. We can all be together," he said, pulled in so close that Dean could feel Sam's breath on his ear and how his brother's body was pressed tight against his side. Sasha was closer too, kissing Dean's neck with nips of his fangs that made Dean tremble. "We can be together, Dean," Sam said again, "Why fight it? Isn't that what you want?"

With both of them pressing his body back into the wall, Dean was paralyzed. He felt tears spring to his eyes. "Together…in Hell?" he asked, horrified, "You think that's what I want?"

"Hell on Earth, Dean," Sam said, leaning closer yet to kiss Dean's cheek too tenderly, while Sasha sucked hungrily now on Dean's neck, "You can have us. Forever. Stop fighting. You were destined for this, to be more than what you are. Hell is only the beginning for us, Dean. We can be greater than all of it. Together."

As demon Sam spoke on, Dean came to the most horrifying realization.

He wasn't dreaming.

"You are real, aren't you?" Dean said, staring hard into yellow and red eyes when Sam and Sasha pulled back. They were both grinning, so joyously cruel that Dean did the only thing he could think of. He grinned too. "You're real," he said to his demon brother, "But you're not Sam."

The mottled yellow eyes flashed with anger and in a moment's time they were no longer mottled, but pure yellow irises against black. Sasha was the same when Dean turned his gaze, red on black, and Dean knew he was right.

This was more than a dream.

"Bravo," said demon Sam.

"Pity you won't remember this," demon Sasha finished, "After all…dreams are so hard to hang onto."

"But you can believe me, Dean," the fake Sam continued, "This is the future that awaits your brother. It's only a matter of time now. He makes his choices day by day, and soon he will make one he cannot take back. All for you, Dean. All. For. You." Sam's hand shot out towards Dean's face too fast and Dean screamed at the blackness it brought, the cold, hard darkness.

Dean was surrounded by that darkness, by his demon self, losing himself to it like falling prey to a sickness. He could feel hands on him, hear voices, muffled and yet somehow clear. Dean couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear any of it. They were going to take everything away from him. He could feel it all slipping away, seeping out of him like blood from a wound, the wounds on his chest that were so close to healed but still ached. They were going to take everything and he wouldn't remember any of it or even know to mourn the loss. He would die, fall to Hell, and rejoice with a black heart and black eyes to match it.

And Sammy and Sasha would be there with him.

"No!" Dean cried, struggling against the hands trying to hold him down and the seeming restraints he was tangled in, "D-Don't touch me! Stay away from me! I don't—! I don't…I don't want it. I don't want any of it. I just want them. I just want them…" Dean choked on a sob and struggled even more wildly, despite how his voice cracked and softened.

Before he could realize what he was struggling against, he suddenly fell, and the hard floor met his body painfully. Dean immediately snapped awake.

"Fuck," he cursed, swatting at the comforter that had tumbled on top of him, "What the hell happened?" Dean managed to free his face and gulped for cool air. He was sweating something terrible. He looked up and saw Sasha's bright blue eyes staring down at him from the bed, looking way too concerned for the middle of the night. "Dude, what the hell? You kick me out of bed?"

Sasha blinked a few moments, his brow furrowed, and finally he said, "Dean…you were screaming at me. Trying to get away. You kicked yourself out of bed. Don't you remember? You must have been having another nightmare."

"I was?" Dean blinked back at Sasha, trying to clear his mind. Everything was kind of a haze. "Sorry. I didn't scream anything bad, did I?" Dean tried to smirk, tired and disoriented as he was, but it didn't have the desired effect of creating a like smirk from Sasha. The incubus just looked sad.

"You were telling me to stay away from you. To stop touching you. And that you…I don't really know, but…you sounded so scared, Dean. Are you…" Sasha's eyes disappeared as he looked down at the mattress, "Are you having nightmares about me again?"

Shit. Dean sat up. He honestly couldn't remember anything about his dream, but Dean knew he had definitely grown out of his incubus and intimacy fears. "Don't do that," Dean grumbled, climbing his way out of the tangled comforter and kneeling beside the bed so he could look at Sasha squarely, "Don't get all sad and weepy on me just coz I…sort of mutilated the bed." Dean grimaced as he looked at the mess he had left of their sheets, wondering how Sasha had managed to stay so unmarred. "I don't remember, okay? But I don't have bad dreams about you. I don't think I do." Dean hated that he wasn't sure, but he remembered a lot of his other more recent dreams, and Sasha's appearances were always benign, even when Sam was wearing yellow eyes that made Dean want to throw up.

"Okay," Sasha said, smiling but smiling sadly still so that Dean wanted to kiss all the sadness away. Apparently, Sasha had the same idea, because he reached for Dean's face and pulled their heads together, kissing slow and simple with just the barest hint of their tongues touching. "Is it about…the deal then?" Sasha asked in a small whisper, like he was afraid Dean would get angry with him for saying it, "You know you can tell me."

Yeah, Dean knew, just like he knew he could always tell Sam things since Sam reminded him of that so often. Still, it didn't mean he had any plans to take either of them up on those offers. Some things were better left unsaid. Besides, Dean didn't really remember what he dreamed tonight. What was the point in mentioning that what he really dreamed about lately was—

"Is it Sam?"

Dean hadn't even noticed how he had zoned out and that he was staring at Sasha's neck rather than looking into the incubus' eyes. He looked up now and what he saw was heartfelt concern that would have made the stingiest of men want to open up. Damn the puppy eyes. "It's…it's not that I don't…think he's still Sammy, you know?" Dean said, since he wasn't really sure how else to explain things, "I just get worried. He says he's scared to use his powers too much, that he's afraid he'll lose himself to them, but he keeps using them anyway in the name of saving me. It kinda drives me crazy."

"Yeah," Sasha smiled, still all somber-like, "But he can handle it. I really believe that, Dean. How can he become evil just by using innate abilities, regardless of where they came from? Especially since he's doing it to save you. You can't go evil from trying to do good, can you?"

"You do remember what they say the road to Hell is paved with right?" Dean joked.

Sasha didn't smile. "Dean, Sam loves you."

That made Dean frown and he hated how it also made them mirrors of each other. "You think I don't know that? It's what drives me the craziest. People go too far for love sometimes. Sammy could walk right into whatever plans the Yellow-Eyed Demon really had for him, something bigger than leading an army of demons maybe, and he wouldn't even notice or care as long as it saved me. I don't want that." Something tasted of familiarity in what Dean was saying but he wasn't entirely sure why. Then again it had always been an issue that Sam would go too far for him.

"But that's what I'm here for," Sasha shrugged, smiling at least a little more real finally, "Someone has to keep an eye on you two. Half the time you're so wrapped up in each other you don't even notice what's going on around you."

A snort left Dean at that. "I could have sworn that was us," he said with a larger smile.

"Well," Sasha grinned. He didn't say anything else, but he pulled Dean into another kiss and before long Dean was climbing back onto the bed. He didn't reach down to retrieve the comforter, although they did rearrange the sheets, because really Dean was far too hot after his dream. Burning up even. Sasha didn't help much with that either. Not that Dean would complain.

By the time they were both asleep again, Dean was so exhausted he slept like a rock, dreamless. He woke up feeling refreshed but with the strangest sense of foreboding. His dream last night had definitely been the worst of them, he just couldn't remember why. Dean decided it was probably for the best. There were some things he didn't want to think about.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me it was almost your birthday, Dean."

Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "No big deal," he said, staring forward at the road ahead of them. They were almost to Logansport, Indiana where Sasha's storage locker was. Dean's birthday would pass about the time they were finishing the hunt in Massachusetts. January 24th. Dean would be 29 and had a good chance of never seeing 30.

"You make a big deal out of my birthday but yours is just another day?" Sasha scoffed from the backseat, "We celebrated Christmas and New Years. Kind of," he shrugged.

"That's different," Dean said, though he didn't really have a reason why. His birthday just felt like it was too much about him. And his damn ticking clock. Dean would much rather stick to hunting. Each hunt brought him closer to stopping that clock, which seemed so much more important than cake and ice cream.

Sasha wasn't letting up though. "You even got me a present. You don't get other people presents this close to your own birthday." Sasha was smiling as he said that though, not at all chiding. Still, the incubus' insistence was starting to get on Dean's nerves.

"First off that was a joint effort," Dean said, nodding over at Sam beside him, "Figured we owed you since it was mostly us that destroyed your old one." Dean glanced up into the rearview mirror, seeing Sasha's crooked smile and just how good he looked in his new leather jacket. "And another thing," Dean went on, "You're crazy. So leave me alone. Buy me a beer come the day and we'll call it good, huh? I don't want a big deal made of it. If I make it to thirty, we'll throw a frickin' party," he added with a grumble.

Silence filled the car almost instantly, thick enough to drown out the radio even. Damn it, Dean thought. He hadn't meant to say that. He liked to think things were going well. He didn't need to ruin everything with angst just because his birthday was looming.

"Hey…ignore me," Dean said after a minute, looking first up into the mirror and then over at Sam too, "You guys do whatever. Just…nothing too crazy or embarrassing. I'm an old man compared to you two, ya know," he said with a smirk.

Sam and Sasha both chuckled a little, the silence broken, and Sam reached over to pat Dean's arm as he said, "Well, I guess that's true. Come next year," he continued, stressing those words like a promise, "We'll be throwing you an over the hill party."

"Only if there's strippers," Dean said.

Sasha belted a much louder laugh at that. "Well you know you always have one for free," the incubus called from the backseat, "But I'm game for that."

"Too much information," Sam said loudly, holding up his hands as if what he had just heard was something he really didn't want to touch. It made Sasha and Dean both laugh harder of course, but Sam spoke on, quiet and suddenly serious. "Hey…uhhh…I've sort of been wondering actually…if…well…" Sam shook his head, "Nevermind."

There was definitely something buried in that rambling. "What?" Dean pressed, "Coz if you're looking for a sex talk, I'd prefer you called Bobby." Dean smirked to himself as Sam looked over and scowled.

"Very funny," Sam deadpanned, "No, I was…well I've just been thinking about…errr…" Finally, Sam just closed his eyes and said what he meant to say as quickly as his lips would allow. "Do you two have sex everyday?"

If Dean had been eating or drinking anything he definitely would have choked. "What!" he all but shrieked. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or die of embarrassment. Sasha had clearly chosen the latter since the incubus' giggles rose loudly from the backseat. "Stripping is too much information and you ask that?"

"It's not like I want to know…personally," Sam managed with a grimace, "It's just…well I just want to make sure you're being safe."

And dying of embarrassment it was. Sam couldn't really be asking what Dean thought he was, could he? Talk about sudden nausea.

Thankfully, Sasha spoke up before Dean could gape in horror at his brother any longer.

"I understand," Sasha said, leaning forward and somehow managing to maintain his smile, "He means he wants to be sure we're being safe with me feeding from you, Dean. And he's right to be concerned. Prolonged feeding from one person without sensible breaks would eventually start to take a toll. But I promise you I'm being careful. I'd never let anything happen to Dean."

"I know," Sam said, looking back at Sasha between the seats, "You I trust."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Dean said with a frown.

Sam turned to Dean entirely skeptical. "Sometimes I wonder which one of you is really the incubus," he said.

Well of course Dean had to offer some kind of nasty comment to that, but when he tried to think of one he ended up realizing how right Sam was and just gave a shrug. "Whatever. Look, can we maybe not talk about sex? Like ever. Wouldn't want to give him any ideas," Dean said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Sasha.

Sasha made a face that almost got Dean laughing again when he looked up and saw it in the rearview mirror. "No Winchester sandwich for me, thanks," Sasha said, "I was never all that good at sharing anyway."

The phrase 'Winchester sandwich' had Sam and Dean scooting closer to their respective doors. That image was just plain disturbing.

Logansport was a little bit bigger than their usual town, but since they were just driving through, Dean didn't mind. It wasn't like twenty thousand people were cause for Dean to ask Sam to drive or anything.

At first Dean teased Sasha for choosing a storage place on Main Street, but as it turned out East Main Mini Storage was so far out on Main heading out of town that it was actually fairly well out of the way. Sasha had a key and lifted the garage-like door easily once they arrived. Dean was immediately reminded of his Dad's storage place as they stepped inside.

"I just need to change out a few things. Don't need the other acoustic though," Sasha smiled over his shoulder, patting the guitar case that was leaning against a shelf, "I'll only be a few minutes."

"Take your time," Sam said as the brothers followed in after him. It seemed like they knew so little about Sasha in some ways that getting the chance to look over his dad's non-hunter stuff was like a sneak peak or something. Dean took no shame in scrounging either. If Sasha didn't want him to look at things then the incubus would have said something. Sam, although more conscientious and careful about it all, seemed to be thinking the same way.

They both looked things over while Sasha disappeared into the back. There were a lot of shelves, filled with various things, none of which spoke a word of being hunter's property.

"Wow, Deklin Kelly was a real music hound," Sam said, indicating the rows and rows of boxes filled with records and cassette tapes, "Puts yours and Dad's collection to shame. Look at all this." Sam flipped through a few records in a box at chest level. It was alphabetized, presumably by Sasha, and covered decades of music. Dean watched as Sam flicked away record by record. This seemed to be the 'B' section, because Dean saw the Beach Boys, Chuck Berry, the Beatles, James Brown, and even artists as modern as Blondie from 1981, only a couple years before Kelly's death.

"This guy's my hero," Dean grinned, reaching down into the 'M' box to pull out the 1977 first album of Motorhead, "He's got everything."

"Had everything," Sam added somberly.

Dean looked up from his crouch on the floor and frowned.

"Sorry," Sam said, shaking his head as he looked down at Dean, "But doesn't it get to you? Sasha's just like us with all this. All this…stuff…and it's supposed to say so much about who his father was but Sasha can never really know. I've always felt that way about Dad. He only died a year and a half ago but with everything he kept from us…I feel like I don't know him at all. That man we saw in those home movies…I never knew that man."

Before Sam started saying all of that Dean had been feeling light and carefree getting to look through Sasha's father's things, but now Dean just wanted to punch something. Why did Sam always have to talk about their dad like he was a bad guy? Like he was a bad father? All he ever did was try to protect his boys and avenge his wife's killer.

And tell Dean he might have to one day kill the very brother he had always been told to look out for.

"There's a record player back here if either of you wants to try one of those out!" Sasha called from the back suddenly. He must have noticed how Sam and Dean had stopped at the music. "You can take any of the tapes if you want too! I don't mind adding to your collection under the front seat, Dean! I'll never get to listen to any of them otherwise!" Sasha sounded entirely at home and at ease. It made Dean feel so ridiculous for getting upset.

"I'll end up taking them all if you say that!" Dean called back.

There was only one box of cassettes compared to the many boxes of records. Apparently, Deklin hadn't been too quick to change over to the new format when tapes started coming along in the early 70s, but he still had a few.

Dean mostly found tapes he already had, including a lot of Black Sabbath. It was funny, Dean thought, since he saw Sam pulling out Frank Sinatra records up above him. Deklin had been a Renaissance man of music. Dean liked the old hunter more and more.

"I'm sorry," Sam said too softly after a few minutes, breaking Dean from his self-imposed silence, and staring into the contents of yet another box of records, "I keep trying to think of good things about Dad now that he's gone but I just…can't. I really hate that, because I know there were good times. I know there were times when he tried to seem just like any other dad, and he did as good of a job as he could manage. But you know what I really hate about all of it?" Sam looked down at Dean again, and really, Dean had no choice but to look up into those hazel eyes, more brown than his but so green just now. "I hate that there are so many good things I'll be able to think back on about you…and it'll make it that much harder if they take you from me, Dean."

Fuck. Dean really hated it when Sam got all emotional out of nowhere like this. It made him want to follow suit and hug his brother or something, but Dean couldn't bring himself to do that. Sam couldn't be allowed to have a break down every damn week. "You know…Deklin's got a few mixed tapes in here he must have made himself. Even has some REO Speedwagon, if you can believe it. Can't fault the guy one mistake though, right?" Dean smirked.

And there was that look that Sam and Sasha both knew how to give Dean so damn well that it made him ache, that sadness through a smile that broke Dean's heart into a million Winchester pieces. "Any Motown?" Sam asked. The kid had always been a sucker for those old harmonizing groups like the Four Tops and the Supremes. Dean had his own secret love for Smokey so he grabbed a tape marked Motown Classics and smiled.

"First round of music chosen," Dean said, pocketing the tape, "And besides…even if they do manage to snag me away, Sammy, I'm sure you'll more than happily remember all the times I drove you crazy." Dean tossed his brother a wink, and while Sam looked halfway to tears, the other half laughed.

Sammy was Sammy. As long as Sam looked at Dean with those pleading eyes, or rolled them in distaste when Dean got on his nerves, then Dean knew nothing was wrong. It just couldn't be. And Dean hated it that he doubted Sam so much more now just because of one hallucination and those god damn dreams.

Several minutes went by where Sam and Dean continued to look through music. They finally turned to some of the other shelves where Dean found mostly stray junk—though he did kind of dig the old pez dispensers from the 50s and the vintage Ouija board.

Eventually, Sam and Dean decided Sasha's "I'll only be a minute" wasn't exactly true, and they weaved their way into the back. They found Sasha sitting cross-legged on the dusty floor next to a bookshelf with several folders and bound journals scattered around him. He must have heard or sensed them coming because he immediately looked up and bit his lip.

"Sorry," he said, "I always get caught up in these things when I'm grabbing a new one. I think I'm going to take this one so it won't be much longer."

"What's that you're looking at?" Dean walked up to the bookcase and crouched in front of it. There were variously bound books as well as folders. They weren't labeled themselves, but Dean could see that the side of the shelves was, listing different dates.

Sasha smiled as Dean hunkered down into a sitting position too, and Sam sat down on his other side, despite how dirty the floor was. "They're my dad's journals. All his notes. Only they're not just hunter stuff so…I kind of thought they fit better here. Dad wrote down everything. It took me forever to organize it all. Some of it is still out of order with so much of it being random, like a few folders that have scraps of paper or napkins even. I've come across everything from phone numbers to song lyrics. I like to keep one of these with me, and every so often I'll change to another one. All these years and I still haven't read through all of it."

Dean nodded, awed by how Deklin Kelly's library of journals and notes put their own father's journal to shame. Then again, John Winchester stopped writing about anything unrelated to hunts after the first few months.

Picking up one of the stray journals on the floor, Dean started paging through it. He saw that Sam did the same, grabbing one of the folders and leafing through loose pages. Dean assumed Sasha picked these at random but probably had some idea of what was where if he ever wanted to look up something specific. Sasha was already buried back in the journal he was looking over, so Dean randomly opened the one in his hands and started reading.

April 23rd

Happy Birthday, Jonathan. Snagged quite a mean looking thing for you last night, right about midnight, and couldn't help thinking how you would have loved to be there with me. Never did hunt together, but I hope you know you're responsible for every life I save. Every one. Always miss you most about this time. Still looking for that demon all these years later too, but one day I'll find it. I hope you understand that saving others has become more of a priority than hunting down your killer. Figured you'd appreciate that more anyway. Poor Danny never did forgive himself and I don't know if he believed me when I said it was a demon and not him. Hope you're keeping Ma and Dad company up there (and off my back, if you don't mind). As always, just down here doing the best that I can.

Love, Dek.

Reading that made Dean feel like he had just stumbled upon something secret and precious, and that by finding it he had done something horribly wrong. The next entry was so entirely different too. It talked about a hunt in more detail and then about the pretty waitress Deklin hooked up with while still in town. The man's wording was casual but definitely more polite than Dean might have put things. Deklin sounded like a true gentleman and yet like a gritty hunter too. He would have been born in the early 30s, Dean realized, so it was no wonder about the gentleman part.

Dean jumped when he realized Sasha was leaning over his shoulder, having scooted closer to see what Dean was reading. The incubus smiled when Dean looked up feeling guilty.

"Every hunter starts for a reason," Sasha said simply, "For my dad it was his younger brother. A demon possessed a friend of theirs and…pretty much ripped him apart just for the fun of it. There was a hunter on its tail, but it was too late by the time Dad helped him with the exorcism. The way I've read it, Dad wouldn't leave the hunter alone after that, just twenty years old, his brother having only been sixteen. Dad learned everything he could and never looked back. Every hunter has a reason. Seems to me…99.9 percent of the time…it's because of family." Sasha smiled then, to himself and at them.

Neither Dean nor Sam said anything. Sam just nodded, trying to smile in reply, but Dean looked back down at the book in his hands and stared. That wasn't going to be him. He wasn't going to be the hunter that carried on after losing his family, seeking vengeance for his brother or anyone else, and he wouldn't let Sam be that man either.

Deklin Kelly was a great hunter, but no one deserved that burden.

"We can go," Sasha smiled wider, waving the book he had been reading, "I've been meaning to read some of the stuff in this one. Has a lot on demons and devil deals. Never know," he shrugged.

Fifteen minutes later they were back in the Impala but the silence seemed to linger after them. Dean had his pockets full of tapes and Sasha had switched out some of his clothes from a bag in one of the storage closet's corners. He really was the simplest guy, changing out T-shirts he had been wearing lately for some different ones, and a few other pairs of jeans. Dean had to wonder how often Sasha actually bought new clothes, but he figured it was probably as rare an occurrence as it was for him.

Dean popped in the Motown mix tape and grinned as the first song came on. 'Cruisin' by Smokey Robinson, one of Dean's favorites when he was in the mood for this kind of music. It seemed a good enough mellow tune to start them on their way out of Logansport.

Sam had opted to take the back seat for awhile, saying he wanted to rest his eyes, and Sasha almost immediately dived back into his father's journal. It was a peaceful drive for a while, Motown's greatest singers filling the car and a kind of peace settling over them, much as Dean found himself worrying over too many things anyway.

When Dean looked up into the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of Sammy, he had to smile at how the hazel eyes were heavy and eventually drifted closed. It would be okay, Dean told himself, no matter what loomed dangerously in the future.

It would be okay.

tbc...

A/N: This was a difficult chapter for me, because it introduces alot of ideas and beginnings to things that will be brought up throughout the arc. Next we will get to Dean's birthday in Massachusetts where there is a surprise waiting. Hehehe. Then its off to Maine for a very interesting hunt. This arc plans to be pretty damn epic with all that will happen before its over so please...review? And man, do I love you guys for sticking with me.

Hey, if you haven't checked out deangirl1's kisses, then you are missing out. The final chapter has just been posted, and it is another new favorite, but I can assure you that my good friend plans to create more for us, just set further in the story, and is always open to suggestions. Don't miss out!

Crim