Author's Note Prompt from Moonlttiger via real life. (Haha)


"You take the back, I'll take the front," Dean whispered, cuing the actions with his hands. Sam nodded to him, readying the colt in his hand tightly. They were stationed barely ten feet from 2604 North Scatterfield Road; Anderson, Indiana, home of a small and secluded church. It was snowing heavily, each flake blanketing the extant pristine white of the sanctuary. The view was less then desirable, but this was the Winchesters' one- and possibly only- chance of neutralizing their parents killer Azazel.

"And, Sammy, take it easy in there." Dean gripped his brother's shoulder tightly, locking their eyes for a moment. Sam nodded again, his lips pursed and brow frayed.

They split off, each taking their respective positions.

Sam rounded the back of the church, practically crawling up the small stone steps to the back door, straining to keep in the shadows. Even though it was night, the winter weather reflected most of the street lights and lamps around the building. The younger of the brothers placed the colt down softly, checking each possible venerability in his defenses. Seeing nothing come from his left (thankfully his right was covered by an extension of the church's wall), he focused his attention on the back door, fishing in his pocket for the bobby pin he readied for unlocking the entrance.

Dean trudged through the thick, white snow planted on the front walkway. It was difficult to maneuver through the blanket of snow normally, but crouching was almost out of the question. Dean managed, however. He leaned himself against the front entrance; Huge, brown double doors, decorated with swirls, waves, and religious symbols. Taking one last scan of the area, Dean faced the doors and began to pick the lock.

Slowly, both of the brothers accessed the abbey. Burrowing painfully slow/ The brothers finally met up, disappointed in the empty room.

"Nothing," Sam breathed, heaving his shoulders strongly. Dean nodded in response, correspondent to his brothers findings.

"Man, 's just a huge waste of time," Dean moaned, settling himself against a church pew. Sam did the same, leaning opposite of his brother.

"Oh, were ya looking for me, guys?" The voice unmistakable and horribly unpleasant.

"Dammit!" Dean's voice filled with bane, taking up his pistol loaded with silver bullets. They weren't any use against him, but they would more than likely slow him down enough for Sam to take a shot.

Sam, possibly on the same wave length, fortified his stance and took a stronger hold of his gun. He had a clear shot, but Sam was versed in Azazel's cunning ways.

The yellow-eyed demon's expression was one of grotesques, twisted into a large smirk; His eyebrows coming tightly together. Already able to see through there shaky plan, he held up his hand and tilted his head. "You don't really take me as that much of a fool, do ya boys? I mean, really." He was shaking his head now, grunting out hallow laughter. Sam was starting to get irritated, screwing his face into a grimace.

"Shove it, you son of a bitch," Dean commanded viciously, closing one eye to line up his site with the middle of Azazel's head- dead center between his eyes. That begot a snarled laugh from Yellow Eyes.

Azazel took a step forward, placing his feet on a lower step. From where Sam and Dean were positioned, he looked as if he was standing directly under the cross- which would be an ironic situation to Sam had he not been hot with adrenaline. Azazel continued down the few steps until he was a mere few feet from the boys. They didn't back away, only gripped harder to the feeble weapons they possessed.

"Well, ya gonna shoot me or not?" Azazel taunted which gave rise to Dean's trigger finger squeezing strongly. The pistol jolted back slightly as the silver bullet bolted from the chamber. However, before Sam could ready his shot, Dean was thrust backward, tumbling into church pews. Dean's head smashed into one, causing an audible crack.

"Dean!" Sam scrambled among the scattered church pews, digging and pawing as fast as he could. His heart was racing; his thoughts finding every possible angle to frighten him. When Sam finally managed to spot Dean, his heart fell. Blood was leaking from his skull, Dean's half-lidded eyes showing no signs of life. "Dean, Dean, please wake up!"

All the while, Azazel was shaking his index finger back and forth, tsking Sam. "I told you, you're gonna have to do better than that, Sammy boy."

Sam blocked him out, trying desperately to wake Dean up. Shaking him wasn't the answer, and Sam knew fully well, but by the time a minute had passed, he was all out of options.

"Please Dean, don't leave me. Not now." Sam was murmuring shakily through hot tears. Some of them fell on Dean's face, other on his own shirt. But Sam didn't feel them run down his face or hit his chest. He only felt fear, emptiness, and suddenly a pang of hope. Dean's eyes fluttered ever so slightly, his thick eyelashes moving just inches. The shadows they cast on his cheeks danced faintly, playing a soft cord in Sam's heart.

"Dean..." And he could see a small slit of green just before Dean started to cough. He scrunched his eyebrows together and screwed his lips into a frown. His eyes were fully open now, only slightly off green then usual, but Sam couldn't have been happier. "Dean."

Looking over his shoulder, Sam couldn't see Azazel anymore. He had disappeared maybe two, three minutes ago? Sam didn't care. He brought his attention back to his older brother.

Dean looked up at the over-sized man and cocked his head slowly, visibly aching by the look on his face, "Who are you?"

"What?" Sam's eyes widened, lips parted in confusion. "What do you mean- Dean this isn't funny."

"I... don't remember you, sorry. Wait, who the hell am I?"

"Dammit, Dean," Sam breathed, some of the hot air brushed over Dean and he twitched his his brother's arms.

Sam helped Dean up then, being careful of any injuries he had. He hooked his brother's arm over his shoulder and held him by the waist. "It's alright. We'll get back to the hotel room and see what we can do about your... forgetfulness."

"Well, at least there are two beds," Dean muttered as Sam sat him down on the bed closest to the door.

"What's that suppose to mean?" Sam questioned what Dean really remembered, and what he didn't. Or if Dean was ever going to remember again.

"So, that means we, uh, aren't...," Dean motioned between them with his hand, sticking out his lower lip like he always did.

"Ehh, not exactly. No, not at all." Sam stuttered a bit, grabbing at his coat to shed it. He dropped it on his own bed and then began digging in his duffel for a change of clothes. A hot shower would really help right now.

"I'll take shower first."

"Something tells me I should get it first," Dean stood up quickly in protest, but Sam pushed him back down on his way to the shower.

"No, actually, I always get it first," adding a quick, "I promise" shortly after Dean gave a quizzical look to Sam. He smirked to himself after he turned away, out of Dean's sight. At least a couple of good things could come of this. That didn't keep him from worrying about Dean, though. Maybe Bobby could help them out.

Sam took an unusually long shower, not that Dean could really remember how long he usually takes, but it still got Dean antsy. He didn't know where he was, who he was, or who this freakishly tall, yet extremely attractive man was. They seemed to have spent a large amount of time together, so perhaps they were good friends? Although good friends don't typically share a hotel room, especially being two guys. Dean took in a copious amount of air, lifting up his shoulders, until it hurt. When Sam stepped out of the bathroom door wearing only a towel, Dean held his breath tightly. He almost choked when Sam caught his eye.

"You okay?"

"Yeah...," The elder Winchester deterred, fumbling his hands on the blanket, pulling them up to cover his lower half. He looked away when Sam inched closer.

"Man, you're scaring me here, Dean," Sam held his brother's shoulder causing Dean to look up at him.

"Are you sure... we aren't..." He didn't even bother finishing his sentence before he pressed his chapped lips up against his brother's, wrapping his arms tightly around Sam's shoulders.

Sam knelt in front of the bed from Dean's weight pulling him down. Dean slid off the bedside, slumping toward it uncomfortably, but he didn't care. It only served to bring Sam closer, cradling his brother's head in his large hand. Sam's other hand held the small of Dean's back lovingly.

"Dean...," Sam mumbled against Dean's lips, unsure of whether to break the kiss or not.

"It's okay, Sammy. I remember." Sam broke the kiss anyway, looking into Dean's eyes. "I don't give a crap anymore. We deserve this."

Sam eyed his brother, still slightly confused. His eyes glanced from one green eye to the other, settling on his lips.

"If you're sure..."

"I'm sure."