Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Sometimes Sam couldn't help but identify his brother with James Bond.

When he had been young and foolish as a five year old, he would watch as Dean and himself would get accidentally caught in the middle of a hunt and Dean would expertly save them just as their father had taught them to. And when they would hurry back to the seclusion of their somewhat secure motel room, Sam would fuss over his brother. Even the smallest scratch would need lots of awing as Sam would admire his bravery and 'play nurse' to fix the wound. As much as Dean would try to push his brother away, Sam's small, usually clumsy hands would gingery place on a band aid and nuzzle his arm.

"You're a superhewo, Dean!" Sam would mumble, smiling a grin that missed several teeth. Dean would ruffle his hair and tell him to sleep without another word.

Whenever Sam would confront his brother about his silence, Dean would always say "You're too young to see stuff like that, Sammy. I feel like you're not a normal five year old and it's all my fault."

"But Dean!" Sam would reply with wide eyes, "I'm not afraid! I have you to look over me!"

And of course, as Sam grew older, his cheesy view of the world had changed. But Dean was still a superhero.

This time, however, Sam noticed he had all of the girls pouring over him.

And that was so not superhero lifestyle.

Superheroes were too busy fighting crime to hold down a steady girlfriend. And while Dean certainly didn't stick to one girl, Sam still felt as though it was going against the grain of his hero image.

And with the fact that he had one girl in every town the Winchesters ever laid a foot into, Sam realized that Dean was like the exact replica of a mini James Bond. Too cool for life itself, fancy gadgets stuck in his belt, gorgeous girls hanging off each arm, and blowing all of the bad guys away.

"Do you ever notice that you're a lot like James Bond, Dean?" Sixteen year-old Sam asked distractedly one afternoon, splayed out on his motel bed while he idly cleaned rock salt guns. Dean was the bed across from his, restocking all of the guns Sam was cleaning. He raised an eyebrow up to his hairline as he stared at his brother inquisitively.

"Wow, Sammy," Dean said with a whistle, "I know a lot of girls who come up with a bunch of cheesy lines. But that may be the best I've heard so far, and you're my damn brother."

Sam pursed his lips together and glared at his brother, "It's not a pickup line, Dean, it's just an observation."

"All right," Dean said with a shrug, "tell me how I'm like James Bond."

"Well," Sam began, "You always have a girl but never really a long-term one. You have all of the guns I've ever dreamed of underneath your pillow. You work under cover from the police. You always beat the bad guys. And somehow you always manage to save my ass, too."

"That's 'cause your ass needs saving, Samantha." Dean said with a chuckle, "You're a bit like my sidekick."

Sam frowned, "James Bond doesn't have a sidekick." He pointed out.

The older boy shrugged, "Maybe not. But I like the thought of having one!" Dean smiled dreamily, "It's like having a secretary."

Sam rolled his eyes wordlessly, concentrating on rubbing out the dirt on the guns.

"Tell me, Sam, how does this sound," Dean slid off the bed, extending his hand to his brother and smiling seductively, "I'm Winchester. Dean Winchester."

Sam shook his head, "Nah. Can't pull it off, Dean."

Dean snapped his fingers, "Damn," he joked with a laugh, bouncing back up onto the bed, "but still. Really Sam, James Bond? Am I that much of a hero to you?"

Sam looked up at his brother incredulously, "You're the strongest person I know, Dean. Of course you're a hero to me."

"I don't have a license to kill." The older hunter mentioned underneath his breath.

Sam smiled, "Exactly. You do it without a license. It's totally James Bond."

"I like the way you think, Sammy." Dean said with a wink.

--

"Hey, get out of the friggin' bathroom! Double oh seven has priority over the mirror, bitch!"

"Jerk!" Sam shouted through the crack in the door as he combed his hair hastily, "What's up with the double oh seven?"

"Don't you remember, Sammy?" Dean asked through the door with a fond smile, "You said I was like James Bond once. And I think James Bond needs the John!" He pranced on the tips of his feet with a growl.

"Just relax, Dean, keep double oh seven in your pants." His teasing laugh sounded through the door.

Dean pounded on the wood insistently, "C'mon, Sam! Don't be such a girl and stop worrying about your damn hair!"

Calmly, Sam opened the door, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, "All yours, Bond. Don't know if you can save anybody being in there, though."

"Well, you just saved yourself from a pretty hard beating from being in the bathroom for so long from me." Dean said with a smirk, and vanished into the bathroom with a steady stream of curses running out of his mouth.

Sam laughed.

--

"All right, here's your receipt, Mr. – uh, Mr. Bond."

Sam cocked his eyebrows as he heard the woman behind the hotel lobby counter hand Dean's credit card back to him. Dean winked at her as he shoved the card back into his pocket.

"Mr. Bond?" Sam repeated incredulously as they made their way over to the hotel elevator. Dean nodded smugly.

"Oh yeah. It was time for a new round of credit card scams and Dad asked me what I wanted as a name. I thought James Bond would be fitting."

Sam shook his head, tutting at the thought, "You know, Dean, you have the biggest ego I know."

"Hey, don't talk to me that way! You're just the sidekick."

Sam shrugged, "At least I don't eat two plates of chicken wings for breakfast." He told Dean with a smirk as they strode into the opening elevator doors. Dean looked at his brother indignantly.

"James Bond needs his strength! Big missions require big meals."

"All righhttt." Sam said with a roll of the eyes, pushing a button on the doors.

"And you know what else big missions require?" Dean whispered huskily, "Some drunk, hot party girls. The moment I settle into our room I'm hitting the bars. You with me?"

"Uh, no. I think we should be looking up on that hunt, don't you?" Sam pointed out fixedly.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to."

Dean waltzed out of the elevator with a stance too egotistical for his own good, not bothering to turn around as Sam huffed acrimoniously underneath his breath.

"You can't just leave your sidekick behind while you go out and meet girls!" He exclaimed, trying to suppress the soft hints of jealousy at the end of his words.

"Yes I can. That's why you're the sidekick. Only the hero ever gets the girl."

Sam sighed heavily.

--

There was nothing like the feel of grimy hands curling around Sam's face to force him to his torture, his piercing screams long forgotten by his captor. Sam gritted his teeth as he felt a knife close in on his throat, his aggressive kicking fruitless.

"Dean!!" He managed to yell hoarsely.

His eyes desperately scanned the dark area he had been enclosed in, growling when there was no Dean in sight. No frantic footsteps. No concerned yells of Sammy! echoing through the building.

All right, then maybe James Bond couldn't save everyone.

His eyes starting to shut tightly as he felt a piece of sharp, icy metal on his skin, he wished to hear Dean bounding up like all of the heroes did the second before the victims said hello to death. But still, there was no one.

Sam screamed as he felt the knife dip into his skin and draw blood.

"Step away from him." The sound of three loud bullets pierced through the air and Sam fell to the ground as his captor's hold on him was released.

"Sammy, you all right? God, I can't even leave you alone with one simple demon." Dean's voice floated through the area until it reached Sam dazedly.

"It – it pinned me to the wall, Dean, what was I supposed to do?"

Dean extended his hand helpfully to Sam, who took it and stumbled up to the floor. "Well. At least we're both still in one piece."

"Yeah." Sam grunted, following Dean out of the area.

"Just thank Mr. Bond." The older hunter said over his shoulder with a playful smirk. Sam huffed.

"I'm guessing you need to go get a girl now in celebration, hmm, Mr. Bond?"

"Why not?" Dean said with a careless smile.

"Well, what am I supposed to do while you… have fun?" Sam said the last part with a scowl.

"C'mon, Sammy, don't you know that double oh seven mixes business with pleasure?" Dean muttered suggestively, laughing at his own joke.

"Ha ha." Sam replied dryly. "And I, what, mix business with business?"

"Yup."

"You know what… I'm just gonna make it an early night."

Dean cocked his eyebrows, "Uh… okay. That's… real fun."

"Jerk." Sam muttered sourly.

"Bitch.

--

Sam's right eye was idly watching the TV. Sam's left eye was watching the door to his and Dean's hotel room as though he was waiting for it to explode. Sam's right ear was vaguely taking in the tinny background noises coming from the television. Sam's left ear was perking up at the sound of footsteps padding on the carpet in the hall.

With a heavy sigh, Sam flicked through the channels.

Sometimes Sam wished that he was the James Bond in the family.

It was so much better than being the unremarkable, can't-fend-for-himself, helpless sidekick. Kissing all the girls, being the hero, drinking thirty martinis but still being able to walk in a meticulously straight line, posture like a king, a license to thrill and kill, and completely fearless.

Perhaps Dean wasn't all of these things, but he was pretty damn close. And Sam was the talking and walking teddy bear, sensitive and sensible, but still pretty vanilla compared to the ever so bold and brazen Dean.

The door opened and Sam scrambled to sit up on the bed, turning up the volume on the TV to appear engrossed in the screen. Dean smiled at his brother as he entered, kicking off his shoes and flopping onto his bed.

"Ahhh, what a night. Had one girl on each arm and one trying to hop on my back." Dean laughed underneath his breath.

Sam pursed his lips together, wordlessly flicking through the channels and completely ignoring the older man.

"Sammy? What were you up to?"

Sam remained persistently silent.

"All right, Miss Priss," Dean said with a sigh as he saw Sam's set face and pursed lips, "silent treatment it is. Tell me what's up."

"Are you sure? Because I think there's a girl knocking on the door. Or maybe there's two." Sam muttered sardonically.

"What, are you jealous?"

"Yes," Sam said bluntly, "I'm sick of being the damn sidekick. I want to be the hero in the family for once."

Dean watched his grim brother for a few silent moments before he threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Sammy, you'll never grow up."

Sam frowned, "Jerk."

"Bitch!" Dean replied promptly, shuffling up to his brother's bed and throwing an arm around Sam consolingly, "You know, being James Bond is hard work. The pressure to be the best, the pressure to rescue all, the pressure to save everyone."

"Yeah, well, I want you to save me for once." Sam murmured quietly into his lap, pouting slightly.

"You're such a girl, Sam." Dean said with a shake of the head.

"I'm serious, Dean, I'd love to be you for a day."

"You know what? The moment I'm gone, you'll be next in line. But until then, you're just gonna have to let double oh seven handle–"

Sam grabbed Dean's collar and a tuft of his hair firmly, pulling him in for an ardent kiss. Dean gave a small noise like mmph before he pressed into the kiss, only pulling away to pant breathlessly.

"What the hell, Sammy? You can't make James Bond a queer!"

Sam laughed softly, not being able to resist scoot closer to his brother, "Sorry." He mumbled quietly.

"And, uh, I don't think double oh seven is into incest, either." Dean scratched at the back of his head uneasily.

"Then maybe," Sam began, his hand sliding down to rub at his brother's neck, "you're not like James Bond as much as I thought." Lightly, he connected their parted lips again before pulling back a hairbreadth.

"Wow." Dean mumbled to the bedspread silently, smiling when Sam laughed. He connected their foreheads, leaning in for yet another gentle kiss. The younger brother lightly let his fingers brush down to Dean's thigh. Dean's breath hitched up his throat.

"Oh, you really do have a license to thrill, don't you?" Sam asked with a grin as another shudder ran up his spine when Dean attacked his mouth once again.