Title: Burn With Me

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: The Winchesters head to Centralia, PA for a job and find unfinished business waiting for them. Post 6x16 "…And Then There Were None." Tag for "Playing With Fire" hurt/comfort!Sam/Dean

Author's Note: So many hints dropped in the first two chapters that this would be coming back to bite them and still so few people who caught them. LOL I need to be less sneaky, huh? End of the road for this story, kids! Hope you like it!

Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~

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Dean watched Sam's unsteady gait until he rounded the truck and shook his head. He was going to make sure the idiot stayed down for a few days once he got him back to Bobby's. He went to the trunk and tugged open the heavy packs. He pulled out the first aid kit and a few weapons and shoved them into the weapons bag before closing the trunk. Dean hefted it on his good shoulder and groaned. He was really tired of being shot with rock salt. He went around the rig, delivering a soft kick to the cab's grill for making them have to walk half the building to get to their room.

"Sammy, grab me a beer from the fridge," Dean called as he went through the open room door and kicked it shut behind him. He frowned, realizing Sam wasn't there. "Sam?" He went to the closed bathroom door and knocked it while warning bells started going off in his mind. Sam didn't answer and Dean wrenched the door open onto an empty bathroom.

"What the hell?" Dean turned to look back at the room and felt the blood freeze in his chest; there were spots of fresh blood on the carpet by the door. "No. No way." He ran to the door and yanked it open and found a few more spots on the pavement. Dean looked up, watching the big rig that had blocked the parking lot pull away and then around the motel. "SAM!"

Chapter 7

Sam woke in a world of confusion and pain. He had a hazy memory of walking into the motel room. He'd been half-asleep and his eyes had instantly gone to the bed in the corner before the door was even open all the way, and then…pain. Someone had grabbed him from behind, pinned his arms, and he'd been too slow. There had been a searing, tearing pain in his neck and then nothing. He moved to raise a hand and grunted in surprise when he couldn't. He opened his eyes and tried to move. He was sitting up and bound to whatever he was sitting on, stripped of his jacket and shirts and shivering as cold air swirled over his bare chest. It was dark, but as he rolled his head and gasped sharply at the pain in the side of his neck, a light flared to life a few feet away.

"You know, I thought for sure you were going to be more of a challenge." The light revealed a man's face. He was young with a short, trimmed beard of blonde hair and a bald head. "The infamous Sam Winchester. Couldn't believe our luck when we followed the scent of your blood to that ridiculous car."

"Blood?" Sam asked and frowned, still confused. "Don'…don't insult…the car." He swallowed against a wave of nausea. "Brother'll…kick your ass. Loves that car."

"Blood, moron. God, how have you lived this long?" The man came over and knelt in front of Sam, holding the light, a small torch, and he smiled.

Sam sucked in a breath, leaning back in the chair as rows of fangs descended over human teeth, and the aching pain in his neck suddenly made sense. "Vampires." He closed his eyes, hoping that wherever Dean was, he'd gotten away. "Dammit."

The vampire laughed at him. "Shouldn't have killed Joey, Winchester. He was stupid, but he was mine." He leaned in pressed a finger into the bloody wound in Sam's neck until he shouted in pain. "It's gonna cost you."

"Joey?...What….Where am I?" Sam's brain was still playing catch-up, but he was getting there, and he refused to give in to the fear and glared at the creature instead and then around his prison. It struck him suddenly that he felt motion, and, a moment later, it dawned on him and he groaned. "That damn truck blocking the parking lot, and…the rigs at the truck stop…crap."

The vampire chuckled and slapped his knee like they were sharing a joke. "Vampire truckers, man. I'm telling you. It's the best way to hide from you Hunter sons-of-bitches." He snorted. "Most of the time." He reached a hand up to Sam's left shoulder and clamped his fingers around it, squeezing until Sam started to twitch in his ropes. "Had a rough couple days, I take it? We almost went into Centralia after you, but we couldn't smell you in there." He leaned in and sniffed. "Too much damn smoke and something else."

"So…you waited for us to…come back out," Sam gritted his teeth through the pain.

"Well, if you didn't come out, it'd be because you were dead." He grinned that toothy smile and shrugged. "Anyone who knows about you two knows how your brother is about that car of his."

"Good for you." Sam glared at him again. "You realize my brother gets a little…tetchy when I'm hurt? This does not end well for you."

The vampire leaned in to him again and his grin widened. "Oh, your brother's not gonna be a problem for anyone ever again. He was paying even less attention than you were." He patted Sam's chest and enjoyed the way his eyes widened in horror. "You're officially an only child."

Sam's world fell out from under him. "No," he breathed and shook his head slowly, the pain in his neck and shoulder forgotten. "He can't…you didn't…NO!" He jerked against the ropes holding him while the vampire laughed.

"Don't worry, Sam. We're not going to turn you." The vampire rolled his eyes. "I don't even want to imagine the nightmare of the last Winchester, immortal and hunting every undead thing on the planet in revenge." He chuckled. "We are going to make you beg for death before the end though. We owe Joey that." He stood and took a step back. "Don't kill him. Not yet. Just make it hurt."

Sam's eyes narrowed and then he heard the hiss of movement behind him. He looked back at the vampire in front of him and let the rage run through him. "You son of a bitch. When I get out of these ropes…and I will…you're gonna die." Sam jerked as hands slid over his shoulders and arms. He was oblivious to the tears coursing down his face and he shouted angrily as the first set of fangs bit through into his arm. He jerked, feeling the teeth tear, and, in his fury, didn't care. Sam tore his right arm free of the rope and grabbed the head at his arm, pulling with a roar and threw him forward onto the floor.

"Dammit, hold him down!" His vampire captor ordered angrily. "He's one damn guy!"

Sam wasn't just one guy…he was Dean's little brother, a Hunter, born and bred; and knowing that they'd killed him…he had nothing left. He wasn't going to stumble through life again without his brother by his side; not again. Sam slammed his elbow back and heard the satisfying sound of bone crunching, and then the entire chair was pulled over backward. His head slammed into the metal floor and what felt like a boot pushed down on his neck while his free arm was held immobile.

"Not gonna die that easy, Sam," the vampire told him at last over the sound of many people out of breath and a few moans of pain. "You haven't begged yet."

Sam's eyes fell closed while his lungs screamed for oxygen, but the boot on his throat just pressed harder.

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Dean's eyes unerringly went back to the semi as it tried to make the turn out of the motel lot. He didn't bother stopping to think about it. His gut said 'go' and he was off at a run, sprinting the length of the lot and thankful the place seemed mostly empty as he ran up the outside of the eighteen foot trailer and to the cab. He jumped to catch the low rising step, grabbed the safety rail on the side, and ripped the cab door open. He knew he was right the moment he swung into the driver's space and clamped a hand over the man's arm.

"Vampire," Dean growled. Ever since he'd been turned and cured, he could practically smell them. There was a short, pitched battle where the blood-sucker tried to knock Dean loose but finally ended up in the space between the seats curled up and whining around a broken arm while Dean pulled the door shut and threw the truck in gear. He kept one eye on the vampire and the other on the road as he pulled into a vacant lot just down the street from the motel.

Dean parked the rig, opened the door and dragged his still-whining captive out with him and down the length of the trailer. "If my brother's anything but alive and pissed when I open those doors, you're gonna have a very bad day. You hear me?" He snarled it at him as they reached the back of the trailer. Dean threw him down, ignoring the pathetic cries of 'please' and 'it wasn't my idea,' while he pulled his gun. Sure, it wouldn't kill them, but he could still slow them down, depending on how many there were. This was one of those times when he REALLY missed the Colt. He reached up and turned the latch then flung the doors wide…onto nothing. The trailer was empty.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean bent and pulled the vampire up to slam him into the trailer. "Where is he?"

"Not here?" The vampire said as though he suddenly found something very funny.

Dean's rage went up another notch and took him that last little step into calm; the sort of calm he'd learned in the pit. "Mistake," he told the idiot softly and jerked him up until he could throw him into the trailer. Dean found the light switch and flicked it. A single bulb glowed to life above them, and he pulled the doors shut with a resounding clang and turned on the undead thing. Dean put the gun away and stalked over to him while he drew the long knife from the sheath at his back. He was actually thankful they'd just come back from a job or he might not have had the weapon there. It killed him a little to let that side of him out again, but this was Sam. The vampires had him, and he would do anything to keep him safe.

"Go ahead, Winchester. Kill me." The vampire hissed up at him and smiled. "My nest is gonna make dinner outta you two…little brother first, though."

"I'm not gonna kill you," Dean drawled slow and heavy, and he kicked the vampire over onto his stomach, knelt with one knee pressed into his back to keep him still, and grabbed a handful of oily hair to pull the thing's head up. "Not yet. First, we're gonna have a little chat and you're going to tell me where my brother is." Dean pushed the point of his knife into the back of the vampire's shoulder just hard enough to break through his jacket and slide into the skin below the bone. He smiled grimly when the thing howled.

"If you tell me where he is, I promise to kill you quick." Dean pushed the blade in further, angling it in a way that had once been second nature to him during the worst time of his life, so that it grated on bone. "Until you tell me, my knife is gonna get damn personal with your tender bits, and I promise you…" Dean leaned down to growl directly into the now crying vampire's ear. "…you don't know anyone better at bringin' the pain than me, pal. Where is he?" Dean shoved until the knife punched through the vampire's shoulder and tapped on the metal floor of the trailer while the thing screamed for mercy. "Where's Sam?"

It took Dean all of ten minutes to break the vampire. He was both relieved and a little disappointed that he'd only had to put three more holes in him to get what he wanted. "Everything. Now."

The vampire, Bob, as he'd told Dean a minute earlier, cried and tried to catch his breath from the immense pain the Hunter had inflicted on him. "There's…there's a truck. S'got a…big red devil on the side." He coughed and couldn't stop the whimper when Dean tapped the blade on the back of his head. "You killed Joey, ok? We followed the smell of his blood here, but you…you were already gone, and we searched the room and…and found your car and realized who it was and…Sebastian lost it a little." Bob cried when he felt he blade move along his throat and swallowed hard. "He's gonna take…take your brother to the Fifty."

"What's the Fifty?" Dean asked and kept the blade where Bob could feel it.

"Abandoned bar, off the road on the interstate at…at mile marker 50." Bob let his head drop to the floor of the trailer. "I swear, man, that's all I know. We run the roads, and we were just…we'd parked the convoy at the damn rest stop…went to the town over the hill to find…find…"

"Lunch," Dean said darkly. "How many of you are there? And don't lie to me."

Bob shook his head furiously. "N-no. No way. Nine. There were ten, but then…Joey, you know?"

"Yeah I know." Dean nodded, satisfied. He didn't warn him, seeing no need to further scare the pathetic excuse for a vampire. If this one and Joey were anything to go by, he wondered how the nest had survived. He braced the edge of the blade against Bob's neck and gave a mighty thrust down so it severed his head to roll a few inches away and lay, staring.

Dean wiped the knife clean on Bob's jacket and stood, slipping it behind his back again. "Thanks, Bob," Dean said softly. He shook himself and slipped out of the trailer, relieved to not see anyone watching, and jogged back to the motel. He went back to the room to recover the weapons bag and slammed the door closed behind him as he ran to the Impala and slid behind the wheel and burned rubber out of the parking lot. All the while, his brain reminded him that they had almost a fifteen minute head start on him; that they'd had Sam alone that long. His little brother was somewhere with nine…Dean shook his head firmly, thinking of Bob…eight vampires, and he'd been damn close to passing out when they had reached the motel.

He pulled out his cell and dialed Bobby, not waiting to hear his voice when the gruff Hunter picked up. "Bobby, that nest of vampires I asked you about? Found 'em. They're travellin' cross-country in a damn caravan of big rigs, and we pissed them off. They've got Sam." He shook his head when Bobby started firing questions at him. "Off the interstate at mile marker 50 is where I'm goin'. It's where they've got Sam. You don't hear from me in a couple hours, you should probably send someone to clean up the mess." He flipped his phone closed on Bobby's frantic questions and shoved it back in his pocket. He needed to focus.

"Hang on, Sammy," Dean whispered the soft plea as he hit the interstate again and saw mile marker 68. "Hang on."

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"Wake up, kid."

Sam jerked as cold water splashed into his face and ran over his bare chest. He blinked it out of his eyes as he shivered and found the vampire from the truck standing over him. They'd moved him. There was a bright light over him, and he lay on something fuzzy and hard with his legs hanging over the sides at the knees and when he turned his head, realized he'd been tied down to a pool table in what looked like a long, abandoned bar. "Where are we?"

"End of the line, genius." The vampire thumped a fist into Sam's bare stomach over his solar-plexus and forced all the air out of his lungs in a rush. He smiled. "Might take a while, depending on how…hungry some of my family is, but this is it for you." He leaned in while Sam sucked in a gasping, desperate breath. "A world without Winchesters. Whatever will we do?"

"Screw…you, asshole." Sam managed between heavy gasps as he got his breath back.

"Sebastian, Sam. Call me Sebastian. I expect you to beg properly for death and use my name." Sebastian chuckled and waved a hand over the table as he turned away. "Taste him. If he dies before I say…" He fixed the seven vampires of his family with a steely glare. "…you'll find yourselves begging in his place. Understand?" They gave him a silent round of nods and he smiled and stepped back out of the way.

Sam tried to steel himself as the group of vampires circled the pool table, and he definitely tried not twitch when too-cold hands slid over the skin of his arms and chest, like they were studying him. He was grateful they hadn't stripped him. He smirked and shook his head, for some reason amused that he got to keep his dignity intact if nothing else. He shouted as the first set of teeth bit into his arm, jerking away from the touch only to feel the head of another vampire brush the side of his chest and those vicious teeth sink in over his ribs.

Sam lost track of the number of mouths against his skin. They fed at his arms, his chest…someone shoved his head up and forced him to look down his own body and cry out as teeth bit behind his neck. "Shit!"

"All you have to do is beg, Sam," Sebastian said suddenly and moved where Sam could see him. "Just beg."

"Go…to hell!" Sam yelled angrily.

Sebastian sighed and shook his head. He crooked his finger at his mate who had patiently waited and now came eagerly to his side. "Lizzie." He ran his fingers through her white-blonde hair and kissed the end of her nose between eyes so light blue they were almost silver. "Have a treat, love, but Do. Not. Kill him." Sebastian punctuated each word with a tap to her nose until she smiled and nodded. "Good girl. Back!" he yelled, and the rest of his family of vampires hastily moved away from the tasty human on the table.

Sam was panting for breath, dizzy and in enough pain that it began to fall into the background for him. He picked his head up nervously when he felt a hand brush his thigh, and his eyes widened as Lizzie moved between his legs. "No offense, sister, but I…I like my women…with a pulse and fewer dental issues." Sam grinned weakly and could almost hear his big brother's chuckle, but that thought drove fresh tears into his eyes again, and he let his head fall back. Dean was gone. Sam had been too slow, too damn stupid, and Dean had died. Now it was his turn, and he found himself welcoming it. He ignored the ache in his back at being bent unnaturally over the table. His legs were going numb below the knee where they were tied to the legs of the pool table. He looked up again as Lizzie's light weight settled over his chest. Her mouth opened revealing the rows of razor teeth and as she neared his face, Sam found just enough strength to lunge forward and slam his head into hers…or he tried, but a hand twisted savagely in the back of his hair, making him shout as he was pulled back to look into Sebastian's eyes.

"Play nice, Sam." Sebastian warned him and looked up at his mate.

Lizzie smiled and slid back down Sam's body, letting her fingers play through the trails of blood over the fine muscles of chest and stomach. "I like this better than his throat anyway," she whispered softly.

Sam felt her hands brush his thighs as panic swamped him. "Wait, what…" He shouted in surprised pain when he felt teeth cut into the meat of the inside of his thigh, and then his breath seemed to clog in his throat. Sam could feel his blood being drawn out of him and into her mouth. A broken groan of disgust escaped him as she sucked harder and pressed a hand into his stomach far too intimately.

Sebastian leaned in, maintaining his vice-like grip in the man's hair and smiled into Sam's glazing eyes. "That would be Lizzie's second favorite place to drink from. Trust me, Sam." He glanced down at his mate and watched her throat work as she swallowed. "You don't want her to show you the first. Beg."

Sam managed the smallest shake of his head while the world swam. "N…no." He closed his eyes when Lizzie's mouth pulled harder at his blood, her fingers wrapping around the front of his belt, and Sebastian pulled hard enough at the back of his hair he thought his neck would break as he bent it over the side of the pool table. "Dean," he whispered sorrowfully.

"Beg or I'll let her," Sebastian warned him and really hoped that Sam would continue to defy him. He frowned, watching as the boy's eyes began to roll back and sighed. "Lizzie, dear. Stop…" Chaos erupted inside the abandoned bar. An arrow hit Lizzie in the back and she slid to the floor with a strangled cry while holy water seemed to rain from some of the holes in the ceiling. Amid the surprised screams and shouts from his companions, Sebastian glared up, trying to see around the light when another arrow sliced into his chest. He stared in surprise for a moment, and then the sickness of dead man's blood oozed through him. He lost his grip on Sam's hair and went to the floor on his knees.

Sebastian turned his head and could only watch in a daze as the unholy fury that was Dean Winchester laid waste to his vampires one by one. The older Winchester moved through the empty bar like death on legs as he scythed through the nest with his machete and the undead quickly became the truly dead until at last, Dean was standing over him.

Dean sucked back the rage enough to lean down into Sebastian's face and smile. "My little brother did two hundred years in a cage with two…very pissed off archangels, asshole. Sam doesn't beg for anyone." He pulled Sebastian away from the table and met his fearful eyes. "You understand now?" Dean asked and raised the machete high. "You get it? The depth of your mistake."

Sebastian's eyes flowed around the room and his destroyed nest and he nodded, closing his eyes. "Should never…have taken…Sam."

Dean swung and severed his head cleanly, then kicked his corpse over. "Damn straight! One more minute, Sammy," Dean told his brother softly, though he wasn't even sure Sam could hear him at that point. Dean went around the other side of the pool table and pulled the bitch who'd had her head in his brother's crotch up. He didn't bother saying anything. Dean sent her head rolling with the others, and only then, knowing they were all dead, put his attention where it needed to be. He looked down at his hands and snarled. "Dammit." Vampire blood coated his hands, and with the wounds on Sam, he couldn't risk touching him without being clean. Dean strode to the crumbling bar and found the sink behind it. He twisted the knobs and grinned in relief when the water flowed. It took him precious minutes to scrub his hands clean and finally he was at his brother's side again.

"Sammy?" Dean laid his hand over Sam's bleeding neck and smiled when he found his pulse, weak but steady. "Ok, buddy. Hang on." He gave himself a moment to take in the numerous bites and knew it was a minor miracle that he hadn't been bled dry. Dean went to the end of the table and slashed through the ropes holding his brother's legs until they swung free and then cut his arms loose. He looked at Sam, the bites and the blood, and the still sluggishly bleeding wound in his inner thigh that was far too close to the femoral artery for his liking and sighed.

"Really wish you'd wake up now, dude," Dean took his phone out, dialing Bobby again and rested a hand on Sam's blood-wet chest so he could feel his heart beating…feel him breathing. "Bobby. I've got him." Dean took in a breath and let it out. "The nest's dead and Sam's alive, but…Bobby, I need help. You know someone…no, I can't take him to a hospital. How the hell am I gonna explain why he looks like a miniature shark's chew toy?" Dean said angrily and knew it was just the fear talking. Apparently, so did Bobby because he kept his calm. "Alright. Bobby, thanks."

Dean slipped the phone away and bent over Sam. "Ok, Sammy. Bobby's got a friend about a half-hour from here that can fix you up." He took his brother's arms and pulled him up until he was leaning against his chest, swallowing hard at how boneless he was. "Bobby says the guy's a vet now, not a people doctor, not anymore, but you being a sasquatch and all, a vet works, right?" He wondered if his voice sounded as worried as he was afraid it did, but it didn't matter. Sam was out. His rambling words of comfort were as much for his own sake as Sam's. Dean slid his brother over his shoulders in a fireman's carry and staggered across the bar, around the bodies and severed heads, and out into the sunlight.

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Dean snapped out of the light doze he'd fallen into when the arm under his hand twitched. "Sammy?" He sat up and leaned forward before he was even completely awake and smiled as his brother's head turned toward his voice on the pillow, still working his way toward actual consciousness. Sam was a patchwork of bandages on his arms and chest, and the skin that did show glistened with fever sweat. Infection had set in in the wounds in his shoulder from the Makawe, and Dean had suffered through playing nurse for Dr. Laramie while he sewed up the jagged, torn bite in his brother's inner thigh. Dean would tease him about that one when Sam stopped looking like he was going to drop dead any second.

"Sam," Dean called again and put his hand in Sam's hair to stop his head rolling and aggravating the healing wounds on his throat. "Come on, buddy. Wake up already. I'm runnin' outta Cosmo mags to read here."

Sam frowned as he heard his brother's voice, because…Dean was dead. If Dean was dead and he was hearing him then… "M'I dead?"

"What?" Dean asked, surprised. "Dude, no! Come on, dammit. Open your eyes, Sam."

Sam felt the familiar weight of Dean's hand slide around the side of his neck and then the pain of his wounds, and that made him snap his eyes open. He blinked until his blurred vision showed him Dean, very much alive with exhausted eyes and a sloppy grin on his face. The memory of believing that Dean had been killed swept through Sam and stole his breath.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, seeing the odd look on his face and then he grunted as his little brother surged up out of the bed, ignoring the pain from sudden abuse to the numerous stitches, and wrapped him in a desperate, clinging hug. "Dude! What gives?"

"You're alive," Sam gasped and didn't give a damn about Dean's chick flick rule just then. He buried his face in his shoulder and held on feeling the tears of relief and gratitude slide down his cheeks. "Said he killed you."

"Holy crap." Dean groaned and nodded, understanding. "Ok. Hey. I'm good, Sammy." He wrapped his arms around Sam's shaking shoulders and let him have his minute. Dean smirked. "You missed me savin' your ass, princess. I was Rambo."

Sam gave a wet chuckle that turned to a groan as the myriad pains throughout his body made themselves known. He loosened his grip and was grateful beyond words that Dean was there to ease him back to the pillows. "Vampires?"

"What'd I just say? Toast." Dean rubbed his knuckles on his shirt. "Went back yesterday and burnt the whole damn place down."

"Yester…how long have I been out?" Sam scowled when Dean cleared his throat.

"You lost a lot of blood, and that skank damn near tore out the artery in your leg." Dean smiled and tried for relaxed. "Four days."

Sam stared for a moment while that sunk in and then looked down at himself and the bandages covering him. "Am I…you know, ok?"

Dean nodded. "Yep. Nothing a few pints of awesome couldn't fix." He grinned and pointed to the bandage taped to his inner arm that said he'd donated to his brother. He leaned in, smile turning serious and set a hand back on his brother's chest. "How you feeling?" Having Sam awake and alert was enough of a relief to make him want to curl up and sleep for a month after the last four days of watching his temperature climb, fall, climb again, and Sam mutter deliriously about his brother being gone through the whole thing.

Sam considered and raised one arm, letting it fall back. "Tired. Hot."

"Yeah, you're fever's still up, but it's coming down." Dean smiled again and patted his chest. "How's soup sound?"

Sam wrinkled his nose. "How about…Gatorade?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "And soup. Four days, dumbass. You need food, and the doc's got some homemade chicken noodle in the fridge."

"Doc?" Sam really looked around then and realized they weren't in a motel or a hospital. "Where…"

"Friend of Bobby's." Dean said simply and smiled as he stood and stretched the kinks out of his back. "Needed someone to patch you up."

"Ok." Sam nodded, accepting that and then frowned. "Dean, how come there are band-aids on the ends of your fingers?" Sam pointed.

Dean looked down at his right hand and the band-aids on four of the fingers. He snorted and then chuckled and shrugged. "I'm a man of my word, Sammy." He gave Sam a lopsided grin and reached over to the table next to the bed, handing Sam a blue and white china glass to drink from. "John's wife? Got some lovely china."

Sam stared at the china and then up at his brother as the laugh bubbled up and he shook his head. "Holy crap. Dean, you didn't?"

"I did." Dean nodded cheerfully and slapped Sam's leg while his little brother laughed. He rolled his right shoulder and the still sore wounds from the rock salt and didn't feel sorry at all for sneaking into the man's house and gluing half his wife's china to the wall of their dining room. "Paid him a little visit after I torched the nest."

Sam laughed and gasped and curled over around his chest and the ache of the wounds while his eyes watered. He nodded when he felt Dean's hand on the back of his neck. "M'ok." He managed after a minute and snorted softly. "You're lucky he didn't put another round of rock salt into you. He's…he's gonna kill you."

"Only if he catches me." Dean smiled and decided soup could wait a little longer. He sat next to Sam again and didn't comment when he felt his little brother twine his fingers in the hem of his shirt. The last time Sam had been awake, he'd thought he was about to die and that Dean had already been killed. It earned him a days' reprieve on being clingy. Tomorrow, though…tomorrow Dean started teasing about vamp chicks with their heads in his crotch and looked forward to how many shades of red he could make Sam turn. "Go back to sleep, little brother." He smiled and kept his hand on Sam's neck, easing him back to sleep. "I gotcha." He rolled his eyes as Sam let a long, relieved breath and dropped back into sleep like Dean had flipped a switch. "Such a girl," he whispered but didn't move which, he guess, made him a big girl too.

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The End.