Here's part two, it's a little longer than the first part and you might read it wondering 'where's the movie reference?' but trust me, you'll get to it. I kept veering off in all directions with this and it's kind of ended up a tag for 'Mystery Spot', which is weird considering I don't write episode tags. Ho hum, guess that's fanfic writing for you.

Huge hugs to everyone who read Chapter One and especially those who took the time to hit the 'review' button.

"You Ever Dance With The Devil In The Pale Moon Light?" Chapter Two

Dean's weary, wiped out to the point where even his bones ache. Could sleep for a month, could sleep for eternity, but that's not something he wants to chew on for too long because that's exactly what he will be doing in no time at all. The prolonged sleep. Boy, he's going to make one fine sleeping beauty. Only there's no way in hell Dean's letting a handsome prince come within a lip-puckering yard of him.

Pushing up daisies or a pile of smouldering ashes, one way or another that's how the year's going to end for Dean.

No more Sam, no more Impala, no more women, no more head banging toe-tapping rock, no more pie (Dean's not too distraught about that one, he lost his taste for pie sometime ago). No. More. Sam.

Now that's a serious kick in the nuts if ever there was one and yes Dean knows what he's on about there. He's been on the receiving end of several stiletto'ed groin strikes in his time. ('What? I thought your name was Sandra not Amanda"…."How was I to know she was your sister").

Since the Broward County Mystery Spot Sam's been, well, like Sam only spread out too thinly. He'll laugh at Dean's jokes but the sound is just one note away from hysteria. He'll make an effort to kid around and rib Dean like he's always done but it's softer now, gentler. Too submissive, like he doesn't want to poke fun at the brother he's not going to get to keep.

Sam's not been giving Dean an inch of breathing space lately, barely letting him out of his sight. Asphyxiated by a paranoid little brother, Dean wonder's whether he'd get a Darwin Award for that one. Dean knows little brother is there right now, hovering outside the bathroom door. He knows that if he were to yank the door open, he'd end up flattened by the sasquatch who's lent up against it. Hmmm that might be a better way to kick the oxygen habit than waiting to end up a hell hound's chew toy.

Dean took sanctuary in the bathroom because he couldn't stand much more sitting around in their motel room. Sam's been staring at the television set but not really seeing it and Dean's been staring at his little brother but not really seeing him either which is funny considering the geek was sitting right across from him. There's no hunt on the cards. Since they settled in this rundown motel on the edge of Death Valley, Sam's not even bothered to fetch his laptop from the Impala. Dean's bought a newspaper from the last gas station they stopped at but it mysteriously disappeared, Dean didn't even get to glance at the funnies let alone scan the obituary column. They've not quit hunting but Sam clearly needs a little relax time. A day or two maybe more, maybe less but enough to get himself together because at present whenever Dean looks in Sam's eyes, all he sees is emptiness. A hole so big it could swallow them both.

Dean's turns on the tap and lets the cold water run for until it's icy enough to numb his fingers; cupping his hands underneath the flow he collects a handful and splashes it over his face. Sam's knuckles rap at the bathroom door. "You okay in there Dean?"

Dean's been doing this dance with Sam for a couple of days now and he's trying hard not to loose his patience, but it's becoming a challenge after he's been asked the same question for the umpteenth time in an hour. "Fine." He shouts back, knowing full well that if he doesn't come out soon, Sam will be back rapping at the door again.

Dean does eventually emerge from the bathroom. Towel wrapped round his waist, billows of steam spewing forth as he opens the door. Sam's sat on his bed. He'd obviously given up his sentry post outside the bathroom but had replaced standing guard with gazing at the door as though he could develop x-ray vision if he just stared hard enough. Dean's pleasantly surprised to see there's a coffee waiting for him. Looks like little brother trusted him to survive alone for five minutes after all.

The coffee's still hot, black and strong with two sugars. Dean peels off the plastic lid and sips at it, hoping the caffeine hit kicks in fast. Sam's supping a coffee too, Dean doesn't ask what girlie crap his brother is drinking this time but he can smell a hint of hazelnut in the air and there's a thin streak on cream on Sam's top lip. (Wussy hazelnut decaf mocha with whipped cream and mini marshmallows no doubt.) Dean peers through the steam rising from his coffee to glance at Sam and notices that little brother is wearing his patented kicked puppy dog look, which matches the drippy coffee he's drinking perfectly.

"You okay?" Dean asks, ignoring how easy it is to be a hypocrite when the boots on the other foot.

Sam's avoiding eye contact, not answering the question and concern absently starts to pummel Dean in the gut. Dean takes another long swig of coffee, draining the cup and jeez; he's really tired now. Even more so than before he took his refreshing shower. His head is so heavy it keeps tipping forward causing his chin to bounce against his chest like a nodding dog but without the car. Dean shakes his head trying to clear it. He didn't see Sam move but Sam's stood before him, gently lifting the cup from his hands. Sam's enveloped in mist, hazy around the edges and Dean opens his mouth to speak but all he can manage is a slurred, "Sammy? Wha--you done?" Before he face plants on his bed. He's distantly aware of Sam shuffling around the room and then, nothing. The darkness is alluring and Dean relaxes into its arms.

It's almost nightfall when Dean opens his eyes. His first thought is that his mouth is dry and there's an odd taste on his tongue, like he's been sucking on a piece of chalk. His second thought is 'Sam' and that wakes him up faster than a bucket of ice water ever could. Sitting up too quickly causes his head to pound and he has to rub at his eyes before he can get rid of the white dots, which are doing the polka across his vision. The room is empty and all Dean can think about then is that he's only got months left, months and Sam's deserted him.

That thought is enough to suck all the air from the room and leave Dean gasping.

No. It doesn't add up. Sam wouldn't do that, wouldn't leave him. Not like this. Then Dean spots Sam's duffel bag still sitting in the corner of the room where Sam left it and suddenly breathing is simple again. Dean gets up from the bed and lurches over to the trash can. His polystyrene coffee cup is discarded at the bottom and Dean reaches in to fish it out. He sniffs at it and notices there's a powdery residue at the bottom. "Son of a bitch, I've been roofied."

SNSNSNSNSNSN

Sam's phone is going straight to voicemail and Dean scrawls through his contacts until he gets to 'Bobby'. Bobby's sure going to love this, another 'hunt the Sam' adventure. His thumb is hovering over the 'call' button when he hears the familiar roar of the Impala's engine outside. Dean's barely has time to get his angry face ready when the motel room door opens and Sam stumbles in.

Sam looks a little surprised to see Dean up and around. A little pale too but Dean's too busy being pissed off to notice. "Dean?" Sam's sucking on his bottom lip like it's a lollypop.

"What the hell is going on Sam?" Dean's angry face is firmly planted by now but it vanishes when his eyes spot a trail of blood, which is winding its way leisurely down Sam's hand and dripping steadily onto the carpet.

Dean hurries across the room as well as he can manage considering he's still woozy. At first Sam flinches away from Dean's hands, which try to remove his jacket. Then he surrenders to them and sinks onto the edge of Dean's bed, unresisting as his jacket is peeled away. There's a bullet wound in Sam's arm, a flesh wound really but deep and bleeding badly enough to leave Sam's face whiter than a TV Evangelist's favorite suit.

"You've been hunting and you drugged me so I wouldn't come with you and get hurt?" Don't let his good looks fool you; Dean's a very smart boy.

"I was faster with the exorcism this time but she still managed to get a shot off….again." Sam mutters and Dean wonders whether to check for a head wound because that didn't make any sense at all.

"What are you talking about Sam?" Dean's still mad and none too gentle as he folds Sam's jacket and presses it against the wound, well, the jacket was ruined away.

"Demon. She needed taking care of. I couldn't just leave her alone she was killing people Dean."

"So you drugged me?" Dean's not getting over that one in a hurry.

"I didn't want you getting hurt. She is—was insane, murdering as many hunters as she could find. I knew I could handle her alone."

"How, how could you possibly know that? You could've been killed. Jesus Sam you can't drug me and go hunting on your own. What the hell were you thinking?" Dean's voice has softened but not because he's forgiven Sam. It's just that he can't bring himself to yell when he can see pain in Sam's eyes and not the type of pain caused by a bullet either.

"I woke up and it was Wednesday but you were dead Dean. For months I hunted on my own until I found the Trickster and then I begged, pleaded with him to bring you back. I killed the demon when I was hunting alone. Bitch shot me then too."

That wasn't what Dean had wanted to hear. Wasn't a whole lot which would make him feel better about the fact his own brother drugged him to begin with but this, this really sucks. He knew some bad shit went down at the Mystery Spot. Knew Sam was keeping stuff from him too but hadn't wanted to press Sam for information. Sam seemed like he'd had his buttons pressed quite enough already. Dean grabs hold of Sam's chin and turns his brother's face towards him. There's a smear of blood on Sam's cheek which Dean tries not to look at. "Listen to me. You do this and I may as well be dead already. I'm still here Sam."

Sam's lip quivers and Dean doesn't know if he can handle seeing Sam cry. "We need to get you stitched up." Dean's heading for the first aid kit in the bathroom before Sam can get a word out.

SNSNSNSNSNSN

Sam's asleep on Dean's bed by the time the wound is stitched, wrapped and the pain pills have finally kicked in. He still looks pale and Dean knows he could go and sleep in Sam's bed but he (doesn't want to) is convinced his own bed has the softest mattress so he lays down and tries to get comfy even though Sam's elbows are pointy and Sam's like gigantic so there's barely enough room. Dean shifts around and he's pretty much hanging off the bed because Sam has to sleep like a friggin' starfish and is all legs and arms sticking out in different directions. Dean gives up in the end and pulls himself into a sitting position and looking down at Sam all he can see is chestnut curls. It's like being kids again, sharing a bed, and if Dean closes his eyes he can almost hear the sound of dad's quiet breathing coming from the other side of the room.

Dean reaches for the TV remote on the nightstand, presses a button and the screen flickers to life. Dean smiles when he see's the 'Batman' movie is on. It's already half way through but Dean never did see the end so he turns the sound up, just loud enough for him to hear all the cool lines and hunkers back against the headboard to watch.

The movie is almost over when Dean notices that's Sam's awake and watching it with him. Sam looks up finally cottoning on that he's in Dean's bed and...so is Dean. "Dean?"

Dean looks down at Sammy and smiles, "Nope, I'm Batman."

"Yeah Dean, you're Batman." Sam's eyes get moist and Dean tries to pretend he's still watching the movie. "Guess if you've been promoted that makes me Robin."

"Or Batgirl."

Sam smiles softly but isn't dissuaded. "That means we're partners then, we work together and sometimes Dean, sometimes Robin can pull off the saving thing too."

Dean nods a little but he already knows who Sam is intent on saving.

When Dean's year is up and he walks through the valley of souls to stand before the gates of the underworld he'll take each step knowing Sam will save him because Dean might like to pretend he doesn't know much but he knows that much about life at least.

-end-