“You busy?” Hotchner asked as he tapped on the open door.

Gideon responded with no more than a quirk of his lip as he glanced over the tops of his glasses, but it was enough to reveal how amused he was by the question. “No more than usual. What’s up?”

“You did a pysch eval on an Agent Hendricksen a month or two ago.”

“Yes. His partner thought he was obsessed with a serial killer, thought he needed help.”

“And was he? Obsessed?”

“Oh yeah, he was a mess when I saw him. He was barely lucid, hadn’t been eating or sleeping. He hadn’t even been home in weeks. I recommended reassignment but he was relieved of duty when he refused to stand down.” Gideon set aside the file in his hand and motioned for Hotch to take a seat. “Why?”

“The perp must have been something to drive him over the edge like that,” Hotchner said with a gleam in his eye, waving away the offered chair.

Gideon merely shrugged.

“How would you like a crack at him?”

“Who? The unsub?”

“Not unknown. In fact the subject has been on our most wanted list for well over a year. He was apprehended in West Virginia three days ago on trespassing charges. The BAU has been requested to determine the guy’s mental state and sort out his crimes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a little… muddled. And Hendricksen’s notes aren’t much help. They have a lot of speculation in them but not a lot of substance.”

“Hendricksen was unstable. Maybe the subject didn’t do anything.”

“Well, we’ve got more than enough to hold him on credit card fraud alone.”

“So we’re off to West Virginia.”

“Nope, that’s the beauty part. He’s coming here.”

Taking off his glasses, Gideon folded them and placed them in his pocket as he nodded. “All right, let’s do it.”

“JJ is pulling together the information now and the team is scheduled to meet in an hour. The subject is already in transit.”

“What’s his name?” Gideon asked as Hotchner turned away.

“Winchester,” Hotchner called back over his shoulder. “Dean Winchester.”

Four months previous

“Dean… Dean… Dean!”

Dean slapped unsuccessfully at the hand on his shoulder, failing that he pulled the nearest pillow over his head. “Da mit, Samp. Lemme sle.”

“Come on, Dean. Wake up. We need to talk.” Sam snatched the pillow away and pushed the other one off the bed for good measure.

“Aw, man,” Dean complained, his face still buried in the rumpled sheet. “No. The one thing we do not need to do is talk. We need to get drunk and get laid.”

“You did that last night.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed happily. “You’re right. I did.” He rolled over and looked around. “Where’d she go?”

“She left hours ago. I gave her cab fare.”

“Thanks, I owe ya.” Dean tried to wrap up in the sheet but Sam held it firmly, thwarting his feeble efforts.

“She wanted to go to Reno.”

“Ouch. That’s far away, right?” Dean gave up the tug of war with the sheet and just lay there. After a minute he opened his eyes. “Where are we?”

“We’re still in Vegas.”

“Oh. Good. I didn’t try to get married again, did I?”

Sam sat on the bed and let out a weary sigh. “No. I caught you before you got that far. Look, this has got to stop, man. You’re killing yourself.”

“Dude,” Dean protested as he got up and stumbled naked into the bathroom to pee.

Following him as far as the door, Sam leaned against the en suite sink and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s been seven months…”

“And we worked our asses off the first six. Now I’ve only got five left and I’m gonna make the most of ‘em,” Dean said flushing the toilet and moving to the heart shaped tub. He turned on the water and dumped a handful of Mr. Bubbles under the tap. “We are so stupid. We should have been staying in the good motels all along. This place is paradise.”

“Being wasted twenty-four/seven is not making the most of anything.” Sam had to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Dean reached into the mini-fridge and took out a beer. He hissed when he stepped into the ankle deep water but didn’t adjust the temperature before carefully settling down in the rapidly filling tub. “Not twenty-four/seven,” he denied, easing back into the built-in pillow and covering his eyes with a folded washcloth. “Twenty-one, twenty-two/seven tops.” He opened the bottle and took a swig.

“I’ve got a lead.”

“Forget it. As of now I’m officially retired.”

“I think I know how to stop the crossroads demon but we’re running out of time…”

The beer bottle shattering one of the wall-sized mirrors was the only warning Sam got before his soapy, wet brother had his hands fisted in his shirt. “No!” Dean shouted in his face. “Don’t say another word!”

“Dean!” Sam protested in shock and surprise as he reflexively grabbed Dean’s wrists and kept them both from falling. “I’ve got a plan.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dean swore, pushing away, swinging as Sam tried to steady him. “Do not tell me about it.”

“Why? Why won’t you let me help you?” Sam yelled back. “Why won’t you help yourself?” He stared at Dean’s retreating back for a second before storming into the steamy bathroom to turn off the water.

While Sam paused to survey the damage Dean picked a dirty towel off the bedroom floor and wrapped it around his waist before moving to sit on the red settee.

“I’m tired of this argument,” Sam stated when he came back into the room a few minutes later with two cans of beer. He held one out in either guilt or apology.

“I want the good stuff,” Dean pouted.

“You threw the last one of those at the wall.”

Dean finally accepted the can but didn’t pop the top. “Look, I’m tired of fighting, too. But you can’t do anything to help me, Sammy. You can’t.”

“Why not? Just tell me and I’ll quit asking.”

Flopping back onto the cushion Dean moaned and looked at the beer before deciding to use it as an icepack. “A little early for you, isn’t it?” he asked when Sam stopped pacing and sat down to drink.

“It’s four in the afternoon.”

“Oh.”

Sam polished off his beer in record time and went for another. Dean followed his progress by the crunch of his boots through the broken glass on the linoleum. He returned with a whole six pack and sat on the bed across from Dean. After opening the first can, he raised it in a silent toast; ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em’ written all over his face.

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed expansively. “It’s in the fine print,” he finally muttered.

The beer was instantly forgotten. “The fine print,” Sam repeated, sober as a judge.

“You manipulative little shit,” Dean grumbled.

“Tell me,” Sam threatened, holding up the six pack. “There’s a whole lot more where this came from. If you crash and burn, I’m going down with you.”

“Burn?”

Sam winced. “Poor choice of words.”

Dean glared for minute but the effort was too much. “It’s part of the deal. If I do anything to weasel out of the deal you drop dead where you stand.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Quiet. Too quiet.

“Come on, Sam.” Dean sat up and prepared for the coming tempest.

“My brother is going to hell because of me…”

“Don’t do this…”

“…and I’m supposed to just stand back and watch?”

“Don’t!” Dean warned, raising a finger. “Just shut up a minute. If I even try to save myself it’s over. I don’t regret it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

They sat in silence while Sam digested the new information. Dean watched him moodily, rolling the can between his palms.

“I’ll save you,” Sam whispered at last.

“What?”

“I’ll do everything. The…the planning, the execution. You’ll just come along for the ride, you won’t know a thing.”

“We can’t take the chance.”

“I didn’t make a deal,” Sam pointed out. “She has no power over me.”

“I don’t know, Sam. We shouldn’t risk it.”

“I can’t lose you either. I won’t.” Suddenly animated, Sam was off the bed and packing. “Get dressed.”

Dean didn’t budge.

Sam stopped and looked at him. “What you don’t know can’t hurt me.”

“I can’t know anything. Comprende?”

“This’ll work,” Sam insisted. “I’ll just feed you bullshit and keep you in the dark.”

“Yeah, I’ll be your little mushroom. But what if I accidentally figure out what you’re up to? I’m pretty good at this stuff, you know.”

“If it comes to that we’ll split up.”

“I can’t know anything,” Dean reiterated. “Not a damn thing.”

“We have to go to West Virginia.”

“Why?”

“Nuh uh,” Sam said with a grin. “Get your stuff and get in the car. For the next five months I’m in charge. You do what I say when I say it.”

“Kill me now,” Dean groaned once again falling back on the bench.