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Sam looked up at Castiel. “Hey Cas,” he greeted. “How’s it going?”
“The angelic war is what it is. Our numbers increase but I am somewhat at a loss for what to do with them.” The angel sighed. “Until we find a way to catch Gadreel and Metatron I fear that there may be no way to end the fighting on Earth.”
Sam nodded. Cas was right, of course. “I’m afraid that I haven’t found much useful information,” he grimaced. I’ve been looking but there just hasn’t been much in the way of…”
“Breaking into Heaven after it’s been sealed for eternity?” Cas’ plump lips cracked half a smile. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. I’m hopeful that you or perhaps your descendants will find a solution.”
He huffed a little. “Descendants. Cute. You mean metaphorical, I hope.”
His companion frowned. “The Winchester line must continue, Sam. It is too important to the future of humanity.”
“I’d get to work on Dean then.” He permitted himself the ghost of a grin.
“You don’t intend children?”
“You don’t really think I’d be so irresponsible as to risk passing all this… mess… on, do you?” He waved a vague hand at himself. “The world doesn’t need more abominations, Cas. And honestly, there’s no way I’d pass on those great vessel-for-Lucifer genes. He may be in the Cage now, but I wouldn’t put any descendant of mine through any of what I went through.” He snorted. “Besides, Dean’s not exactly careful about that sort of thing.”
“It is Dean’s… carelessness… that I wished to speak about,” the angel told him, leaning forward. “Not only in matters of procreation, although I must confess that his advice to me regarding using protection seemed rather ill-placed considering the fact that he has required angelic assistance with regards to –
He held up a hand. “I get it, Cas. Thanks.” He cleared his throat. He did not need that information, not even a little bit. “Dean has been kind of reckless lately.”
“Accepting the Mark of Cain was not the sign of someone who is thinking through the consequences of his actions, Sam. He needs his brother. He needs someone who will make him consider more than the immediate impact of the things that he does.” Once upon a time the intensity of Cas’ gaze had inspired awe in Sam, and he was reminded of this now.
Reminded, but not particularly affected. “Yeah. I think you’re right, Cas. He does need someone to help him get through whatever guilt trip he’s got going on over what happened to Kevin.” He kept his face from screwing up with bitterness. It was only Kevin’s death that made Dean feel guilt or remorse for his actions. He would do them all again, and again, and again. Sam himself hadn’t figured into any of them.
“So you’ll forgive him?” Cas put a hand on his. He’d probably seen the gesture on television. Sam stared at it until he took it away.
“Are you… are you drunk again?” he asked.
“You agreed that he needs his brother back. You’re willing to give him his brother back despite your childish snit about being possessed, then.” Blue eyes blinked at him.
Childish snit. Right. Even for Cas, this wasn’t about Sam. It was about Dean, like everything else. Sam was probably the only person on the planet who didn’t see himself as merely an extension of his brother. Maybe the problem really was him. Well, that would make the solution that much better then. “Uh, that’s not what I had in mind. I get that you don’t approve of my having feelings on the subject, but I do. Besides, Dean isn’t interested in my forgiveness. He doesn’t think there’s anything to forgive. I’ve thought of something better.”
Castiel tilted his head to the side. “What could possibly be better?”
“The better brother. Dean always said that Benny was a better brother to him than I’d ever been. If I can convince him to come back and help Dean, Dean will have a brother that he likes better, whose company he actually enjoys and who he can actually trust. He’ll be able to do his job without having to do anything stupid or immoral or whatever to save his brother, because Benny’s pretty damn hard to kill and he’s a better fighter than I am too. And he can’t get possessed, because he’s a vampire. So he won’t be a target for demons or angels in that way. He’ll be a safer hunting partner for Dean.”
The angel squinted. “Why… why would you do this?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Dean gets what he wants – a good brother that he can enjoy. He gets what he needs – someone to watch his back and keep him safe.”
“But you hate him now.”
“I could never hate Dean, Cas. I don’t trust him. He violated me on levels that I can’t even begin to describe, and he doesn’t even want to hear about it. But I don’t hate him. I just… things will never be the way they were, and they shouldn’t. Because the way they were is how we got to a point where my brother forgot that he couldn’t give you permission to possess me to fight Gadreel. He forgot that he doesn’t own me, Cas. And that’s not okay. It’s never going to be okay, because it never was okay.” He paused, taking a few deep breaths to collect himself. “But this? I think having Benny around will be all right. Benny’s not my favorite guy, but he’s not going to let Dean go acting like people are property. Who knows, if he can see Benny as a real live person maybe eventually he’ll see a monster like me as a person too.”
Cas reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not a monster, Sam.”
“Dean would beg to differ. And that’s enough with the touching.”
Cas still didn’t think that it was a great idea – he preferred to have Sam yield to Dean’s view of his place in the family unit – but Sam made it clear that he had no intention of abandoning his plan so he decided to help. He’d found a ritual to call a soul back from Purgatory, so they told Dean that they were following up a lead and kept it vague. Dean’s main area of interest these days was on Hell and Abaddon – why, Sam had no idea – and he didn’t show much interest beyond making sure Sam had a chaperone. They drove up to the Thousand-Mile Wilderness in a four day journey of epic awkwardness that Sam fervently prayed to any pagan gods that might be listening he would never need to repeat. Cas was okay, as angels went. He just wasn’t, you know, the best conversationalist. Four days stuck in a Monte Carlo with a guy whose idea of a good talk consisted of how being the world’s biggest screw-up wasn’t so bad really just really didn’t sit right with him, and even if Cas seemed to be on the side of goodness and light right now there was no way he was drinking around angels after everything that had happened so there was no way to numb the misery of the conversation.
Eventually though they made it up to the Thousand-Mile Wilderness, where Dean had buried Benny’s bones during the Trials. They excavated the corpse from the still partially frozen ground, grateful to nature and an unpleasantly cold winter for the odor suppression. Then Sam prepared and enacted the ritual, repeating the chant and cutting his arm over the grave. Within moments, Benny’s spirit appeared before them. It was transparent, and monochromatic, like you might see on television, but still unmistakably Benny. “Well I’ll be damned,” he drawled. “If it ain’t the littlest Winchester. And Feathers. How y’all doin’?”
“Hi, Benny. Listen, I know you said you preferred to stay where you are –“
“I don’t belong up there, Sam. You know it.”
“I think you might find it a little better up here if you had some support. Dean’s… Dean’s in a bad way. He’s doing dumb shit and he needs you. He needs his brother.”
The vampire’s eyebrows drew together. “Sam, you’re his brother.”
“Yeah, but you’re his favorite brother. If it doesn’t work out we can always send you back again.” He could just force the spirit back into the body – finish the ritual and be done with it. He wouldn’t do that. It would be wrong. “What do you say, Benny?”
He stretched his neck out a little – there would have been an unmistakable cracking in the air, if he’d been corporeal. “I guess I can give it a shot” Sam bled some more over the bones and spoke the rest of the words. The spirit swirled for a moment and shot like an arrow into the corpse. There was a dull red glow for a moment and then the body… wasn’t a body anymore. It was whole again, whole and hearty and sitting up.
Sam extended a hand to help his old rival out of the grave and helped to dust the dirt off his clothes. “I’ve got a change of clothes for you in the car,” he offered. Benny changed and they made their way back to Lebanon, filling the vampire in on the situation since he’d gone to Purgatory. He’d gotten a little bit of data from the various critters he’d encountered but only in bits and pieces, and not really in any useful format. Sam tried to hold back as much as he could from painting Dean in a bad light, but Benny wasn’t exactly stupid. He could read between the lines. When Castiel admitted that “Dean saved Sam’s life in a way that made Sam unhappy,” the entire story came out and Benny came out surprisingly on Sam’s side. “Damn straight it made him unhappy, Feathers,” he whistled. “I ain’t surprised he’s pissed. That ain’t the kind of thing you just shrug off.”
The vampire’s words left Sam feeling better than he had in years.
They returned to the bunker in time to find Dean making dinner. “Nice digs,” Benny whistled as they filed inside.
“Yeah, wait until you see the firing range.” Sam grinned. “Or the garage. It’s a pretty sweet little base. Dean’s in love with it. I cleared out a room – if you don’t like it you can pick any of the others, but I wanted you to have a space to settle into right away.”
Dean heard the commotion and came out to investigate. “Sam, who the Hell are you talking to?” he groused. “How are you bringing people back to our secret lair? It’s ‘secret’ for a reason. We don’t go telling people about it.” He stopped when he saw that the duo that had left had increased by one. “Benny?” he whispered, and passed out.
No one could really have foreseen that in passing out he would have banged his head on the corner of the table. Well, Sam should have foreseen it. That was just how things worked. Hell, he’d lived through the stupid Mystery Spot, a hundred and eighty Tuesdays in a row or whatever it had been and hadn’t subdural hematoma been one of the ways? He vaulted over the remaining stairs and raced to his unconscious brother’s side, not afraid to soften and show too much concern now that he was unconscious and bleeding on the floor. “Dean?” he called, not really caring how desperate he sounded or how his voice echoed through the tiled hallways. “Dean!”
He reached the still form and checked for pulse and airway. Both seemed fine; the only injury seemed to be to his brother’s head. Blood pooled underneath him at a rapid rate. Intellectually Sam knew that injuries to the head or scalp bled a lot, it was just what they did, but from where he was sitting right now crouched beside his only real connection to the world he was not feeling particularly at home to intellect. He gingerly touched the wound; the bone didn’t feel like it had been shattered but he could definitely tell that Dean had a good-sized lump coming. Castiel jogged up beside him; Benny stayed at the foot of the stairs to avoid temptation. “Let me touch him, Sam,” the angel instructed, not ungently. The hunter hadn’t even realized that he’d been “guarding” until his companion spoke. “I will do what I can.”
Sam backed away while Dean’s friend touched two fingers to his forehead. At an instant the wound stopped bleeding and the blood disappeared from everything – the floor, Dean’s clothes, his hair. Only Sam’s hands remained soiled, as it should have been. He frowned in confusion, though, as a red field sprang up around the older hunter. Cas drew his hand back as though it were burning him. “What’s wrong?” Sam snapped.
Cas pressed his lips together. “It’s… it’s the Mark, Sam. It is impeding my ability to heal your brother.” Benny approached now that the danger was past. “I was able to heal the immediate wound, but not to clear up the damage to your brother’s mind.”
“He’s got brain damage?” Sam seethed, cradling Dean’s head in his lap.
“There was some bruising. It is not life threatening or else I would have been able to heal it. I believe he will have lost some memory; what he will have lost I cannot say. We will have to see what it is when he wakes up. I suspect that the memory loss will be temporary, although the duration remains to be seen.” He reached out and put a hand on Sam’s arm. “Sam, it will be very important not to push him on the memories he lost. You must allow him to remember at his own pace, otherwise you could exacerbate the memory loss and make it permanent.” He glanced at Benny. “Do you understand?”
Sam sighed and removed the angel’s hand with his own. “Okay. Yeah, Cas, I get it. Whatever Dean thinks is going on, roll with it.” And of course he was going to have to do this. Just swallow everything between them, like always. It was always something, and it might well damage Dean’s brain to do it differently so yeah, he’d have to suck it up and deal. Damn it. He shifted and lifted Dean to carry him into his room. Benny and Cas followed, and between the three of them they got the older hunter settled into his bed and set up a vigil.
Sam couldn’t keep his foot from jumping the whole time. What the Hell had Dean been thinking? He’d taken the whole Mark without looking at the fine print, of course he had, and of course it had caused problems. It could only cause problems. Now he couldn’t be healed fully by an angel and Dean’s whole modus operandi was to get the crap beat out of him and then have Cas heal him up. This wasn’t going to end well for him. It wasn’t going to end well for anyone. Well, Dean had always said that it would end bloody or sad, and they were already a lot older than they’d ever expected to be. Older than they had any right to be, really, given how often they’d both died. Older than Sam had any desire to be, really.
They watched in silence for an hour before Dean began to stir. Sam stopped holding his hand when the first signs of sentience began to return; they weren’t there yet and they probably never would be. When eyelashes fluttered against freckled skin he called out his name though. “Dean?”
Benny of course didn’t have that kind of baggage. He’d just returned to unlife – again – and could be unalloyedly happy to see his friend. “Dean!” he exclaimed softly, to avoid exacerbating the headache he knew couldn’t be avoided. “Dean, hey there brother!” He reached out to clasp Dean’s hand in his burly one.”
Green eyes focused on the vampire’s. “Benny!” A huge smile broke out on Dean’s pain-drawn face, the first Sam had seen in too long. “It is so good to see you, little brother!” He drew the Southerner down for a hug that soon developed into something much deeper. Lips met, then tongues.
Sam’s blood turned into ice in his veins. Dean had never admitted to anything about him and Benny but he’d always suspected. That wasn’t the issue – he wasn’t exactly in a position to complain about the whole inter-species thing, really. It was the “little brother” comment that was the dagger between the shoulder blades. Cas put a hand on his arm. “Could you not with the touching, please?” he growled at the angel.
“Dean, do you know what happened?” Cas demanded intensely, leaning in with his typical disregard for personal space. “Do you remember?” Sam held his breath.
“I saw my baby brother walk into the bunker after being dead for a year. I was so happy – so surprised I must have fainted.” He smiled up at Benny, still not looking away from the vampire’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you know who I am?” the angel wanted to know.
“Yes. You’re Cas. You’re an angel, the only one who’s not a dick.” Sam bit his tongue.
“And do you know… everything about Benny?”
“You mean do I know he’s a vampire? Sure. No one’s perfect. Threw me for a loop when it happened, sure, but I’ve had time to adjust.” He smiled back at Benny. “I lost you twice now. I ain’t losing you again.” He frowned. “What’s going on? I don’t… Did I hit my head or something?”
“Yes. Yes, you hit your head. We’re trying to assess the extent of the damage. The mark on your arm prevents me from healing you entirely. Your memories should return in time, but they must return naturally. No one can supply them for you.” Cas took a deep breath and indicated Sam. “Do you remember that man there?”
Dean frowned and massaged his forehead. “I… no.”
Sam wanted to vomit. “It’s okay, Dean. Don’t hurt yourself. It’ll come when your brain’s ready, not before. It’s not a big deal anyway.” He forced himself to give half a smile. “The name’s Sam. Sam Lafitte.” Benny darted him an amused glare at the name. “I’m a Man of Letters. I’ve been working with you to help bring your brother back. I’m… I’m just going to go let you enjoy your reunion, okay?” He left the room as quickly as he possibly could, racing for his own.
Of course, Castiel had to follow. “Sam, wait,” he demanded before the hunter could close the door. “We should talk about this.”
“There’s not much to talk about, Cas.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “This is… exactly what he needed actually. He needed the better brother. It’s what he got.” He inhaled deeply, let it out slowly. “I’m sure he’ll get his memory back soon and in the meantime, let him be happy in his dream world, you know?”
“Even though you know about their sexual relationship?”
“I was pretty sure before, Cas. Having demon blood doesn’t make me stupid.”
“I have offended you.”
“Maybe a little bit. Look, Cas, I’m tired. It’s been a long week and I’d really like to maybe take a nap or something, okay?”
The angel obviously wanted to say something, but he took the hint and left Sam to his own devices. For the time being his own devices consisted of tossing and turning while he tried to make some sense of the situation. He wasn’t Dean’s brother anymore. Well, he would be again. Dean would remember. Was it right to let him get all… excited… about Benny? Was there a problem with it? He’d been involved with Benny before, they both obviously still wanted it and it wasn’t like Dean had wanted him since he found out about the blood in Sam’s veins. The only right that Sam had to concern was about Dean’s ability to consent, and that seemed covered by the fact that he was apparently able to remember everything except Sam.
He didn’t have the right to be jealous. He wouldn’t have taken Dean even if he’d offered, and Dean wouldn’t have offered even if there had been no Gadreel, no Kevin, no Trials between them. He needed to simply accept things the way they were and be happy for Dean. He spent several hours focusing on that or on at least pretending to be able to do that before Benny came to tell him that dinner was ready.
What an awkward “family” dinner that turned out to be. Dean cooked burgers. Benny could eat, and he did. Dean’s appetite was a little off thanks to the bump to the head, and he kept staring at Sam like he was trying to figure something out. Castiel, who apparently enjoyed the burgers, repeatedly needed to remind him not to try to force memories back into place. Sam poked at his food, rearranging the toppings in size order before taking a bite and repeating the process rather than actually eating. He just couldn’t force the food down, but a lifetime in John Winchester’s Army had made him adept at hiding food when he wasn’t able to handle eating it. After dinner he retreated as fast as he could to the library, where he buried himself in research until he couldn’t stay awake any longer.
Apparently the return of Benny flipped a switch inside of Dean, because he seemed very determined to show his “little brother” just how determined he was not to lose him. Every time Sam stepped outside his room it seemed like he was walking in on something he’d rather not. He went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and found himself confronted by Dean and Benny making out against the cupboards, slow and sensuous like they had all the time in the world. He walked down to the gun range to find them examining one another’s grips. He found Benny on top of Dean in the war room when he came back from a run one morning, and judging by the way that Dean’s pants were hanging from the light fixture they were planning to be there a while. He went into the infirmary before a restocking run and well, he was never going to be able to refer to anything in that room as “sterile” again. He backed away slowly because his eyes were closed and shut the door behind him.
After about three days of this Benny came to find him in the library. It was one of two rooms in which Sam could consider himself safe from the sight of his brother and the vampire frolicking, and even then Sam tended to really bury himself in the stacks as deeply as he could just to accidentally seeing something that might make him want to find the nearest angel and beg to be smote. The winged dicks had to be good for something, right? He brought a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers. “Can we talk?” he asked, holding the bottle up like a peace offering.
Sam sighed. He wanted to say something about drinking around the books. He wanted to say something about how he was really very busy with research, thanks. He wanted to say something about how he didn’t feel comfortable drinking unless he was safely behind a bazillion locked doors and walls that were warded against every known angel in existence. None of this, he reminded himself sternly, was Benny’s fault. “Sure,” he forced. “Thanks.”
His not-rival poured out measured amounts of the amber liquid. “I wanted to see how you’re doin’,” he drawled, pulling up a chair. “I know Dean’n I’ve been kinda… affectionate… lately.”
“It’s okay. I don’t really use but two rooms in this place anyway,” he assured him. “I mean, I’ve already fixed up a few of the motorcycles, just, I guess, leave your hat on the door of the garage or something so I don’t interrupt –“
“He likes the hat.” Benny didn’t blush. He was a vampire. Of course he didn’t blush. Only abominations like Sam blushed and they blushed like carnelian.
“Of course he does. Leave something on the door of the garage so I know not to walk in, okay? And the shower room. Just so I know.”
“You’re okay with it. With me and Dean.”
“Why shouldn’t I be? It’s not like you weren’t sleeping together before.”
“He told you?”
“I’m actually kind of smart, Benny. I figured it out for myself.” He sipped at his drink, more of a sniff than any real consumption. “It’s okay. I knew before I went and brought you back. It’s part of the reason I brought you back, honestly.”
“Really?” He huffed. “And here was me thinkin’ you were all jealous.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know you then. And Dean was very, very cagey about you. There’s other stuff, stuff from years ago that you don’t know. Stuff you don’t need to know. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the way Dean was acting about you, if that makes any sense. But he’s happy with you. I’ve seen him smile more with you around than I’ve seen him…. Well, since he popped out of Hell, to be honest.” He sipped from his drink. “He’s happier with your resurrection than he was with any of mine.”
The vampire chuckled. “Now that’s something you don’t hear every day.”
“Yeah, well. You’re apparently a Winchester now.”
“Temporarily.”
“It’s your own second resurrection, Benny. Whenever Dean recovers his memories I’m pretty sure you’re stuck now.”
He drank from his cup. “You may be right. But you’re sure you’re okay. I mean, it ain’t really incest.”
“It’s not for me to care one way or the other. You’re both consenting adults who were in a relationship before he got hit on the head.”
“So how come you’re avoiding us?”
“Well, there’s that whole stuffing an angel inside me and lying about it for months thing. It still kind of rankles.” He rubbed at the back of his neck.
“I guess it would, at that. Ever gonna forgive him?”
“He’d have to admit he did something wrong first. And he never will. Even when he gets his memories back, he never will. But… it’s not even about that. I can’t trust him. I can’t trust anyone. And it… well, it bugs me. So yeah, I’ve been keeping to myself.”
“He notices, you know.”
Sam shrugged. “Meh. He’ll get over it. As far as he’s concerned right now I’m just some random geek.”
Castiel, of course, was not convinced that Dean would “get over it” when he confronted Sam a few days later, about a week after Dean’s accident. “Dean will never remember you if he doesn’t have something to trigger memories of you,” he urged. “You avoid the common areas like they are contaminated –“
“They are contaminated, Cas. I feel like I need a biohazard suit just to use the bathroom.”
Castiel paused. “Sam, you have not been intimate with your brother in many years. Why does his relationship with Benny cause you problems?”
“Dean ‘being intimate’ with anyone else doesn’t bother me, Cas. I wouldn’t let him touch me if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t, and he’d want to even less if he knew who I was. What I am.” He smirked at himself. “I’m not a big fan of bodily fluids on household surfaces, though.”
“You and Dean were not as… exuberant and inventive?”
He cringed inwardly. “No. We also didn’t have as much opportunity. We, uh, didn’t actually have a home, remember? We had motels and a car. And Dean was real picky about the interior of the car.”
“He appears to be less so now.”
“Thank you for pointing that out, Cas.”
“You haven’t been eating, Sam. You must take better care of yourself?”
“Why?” Cas couldn’t answer. “Dean’s memory isn’t getting any better.”
“As I mentioned, it might be more helpful if you left more trigger objects around. Things to remind him of your existence.” He sat down on the chair to Sam’s desk.
“Do we have to?” He wasn’t sure how he felt but it definitely felt different when the words left his mouth – lighter and heavier at the same time.
“Sam, he’s your brother.”
“Mmm. But look at him, Cas. He’s so… happy. He doesn’t remember me. He doesn’t remember me at all. He doesn’t remember Hell – he knows he was there but he doesn’t remember why and he doesn’t remember being there, because it was all caught up in me. He remembers that there was an Apocalypse but he doesn’t remember being involved, because it was all caught up in me. He remembers Lisa and Ben but he just remembers that he left for their own safety, not that I had anything to do with it. He doesn’t remember that he let in the angel that killed Kevin.” He could feel a tear escape and fought like hell to hold the rest of them back. If he could hold back Lucifer he could hold back tears. “He’s so… he’s happier than I have ever seen him, Cas. No joke. He’s so… he’s so free. With Benny. When he was with me he was never this open. He never smiled this much. Never laughed this much. Never enjoyed himself this much.”
“So what is your plan – entomb yourself like an anchorite in your room and pretend to be this Sam Lafitte character?” Cas folded his arms across his chest. “If we are going to break open Heaven we will need as much help as we can get, and you will be of very little use hiding in this storage closet.”
“I’m not going to be terribly useful to you anyway, Cas. But I’ve got an idea. Let me flesh some things out.”
Sam redirected his research. He poked around a little more. He had a plan for Dean, but he needed a plan for himself. Eventually he found what he needed, buried deep in some old ledgers in a box in his room. He’d never been so grateful to have left all the crap in there.
After a few more days it was Dean who found him, yet again in his room. Benny followed. “Hey, Sam,” the Winchester greeted. “I’m just checking in to see how you were doing. I, uh, I haven’t seen you around much.” He sat on the desk expectantly.
“I’ve been busy. How’s your head?”
“It’s getting better. Cas thinks I should be able to get back to hunting soon. I’m just wondering why you’ve been avoiding us – is this really your bedroom? You’ve been sleeping in a storage closet for a year?”
He looked around himself. “I don’t have a whole lot of personal effects, Dean. Lost most of them the last time I died.”
“Oh.” He blinked. “I thought it was just Winchesters.”
“We’re probably distantly related. I think all the Men of Letters are.”
“Huh. Anyway, is it because of Benny and me? Is it the vampire thing?”
Ugh. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone to research in peace? “What? No. I – Benny’s a good guy. He’s good about his sources, he doesn’t hurt people – unless they’re attacking him I guess – and he’s always stood up for you. Why should I care about his teeth?” Benny huffed but grinned.
“Is it the incest thing?” Dean pressed.
Sam schooled his face. “You are both consenting adults. I don’t care who you do it with or what you do with them, as long as everyone involved is a consenting adult.”
“Because most people, Sam, that’s kind of a deal breaker.” “I’m so not in a position to cast stones, Dean.” He looked up.
“Really?” Dark blond eyebrows ascended. So did Benny’s.
“Oh yeah. Long time ago. But uh, my brother, he uh, he died. And when he came back some folks – angels – they didn’t like me too much and they made sure to let him know some things about me that I’d been keeping pretty secret.” He ran his hands through his hair. “He never touched me again.”
“Must’ve been a pretty big secret,” Dean commented.
“Yeah, well, when you’re raised to be hunters and your brother finds out you’re part demon yeah. It’s a pretty big deal.” He stood up. He could take whatever it was Dean dished out now; it had been long enough.
Dean’s jaw dropped. So did Benny’s. “You’re part demon?”
“Yeah. You remember the demon Meg?” He nodded. “Her father was Azazel.” There was no glimmer of recognition. “He did… experiments, I guess. On human infants. It changed us. Not fully demon, not even half, but not fully human either. The angels call us abominations. Called us abominations, I guess. I’m the only one left. I found out maybe a year before he did and I was pretty repulsed. I didn’t want to think about it much less talk about it, so I didn’t.”
“Did you ever try to explain things to him?” Benny wanted to know, stepping closer.
“Once or twice. Got caught up in some crap, made him even more disgusted with me. Made myself even less human, I guess, and you know. Stuff. He made it pretty clear he’d never want me again. It’s fine.”
“Wow.” Dean shook his head. “Do you ever hear from him?”
“Oh sure. I mean, we worked together for a while. I died again for a while but then we worked together and stuff, and then he died or I thought he did and he hated me even more for thinking he was dead, but whatever. We, uh, had a bit of a falling out recently. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.”
“Do you want to?”
“I love him,” Sam admitted. “He… he did something to me that… I mean, there are no words. I… he was the last person I could trust and that’s destroyed now, you know? He doesn’t believe he did anything wrong and me… I mean, I’ll never… I’ll never even know an affectionate touch again. Because I can’t let anyone. Um… but I don’t think there’s anything I can really do about it. I want him to be happy. And I want to… I don’t know. I’m not sure what’s possible. Anyway. This isn’t about me. This is supposed to be about getting you well.”
“Right.” Dean looked visibly affected. “Do, uh, part-demons need to sleep or stuff?”
“Usually.”
“I’ll leave you to it then.” He disappeared.
Benny stayed behind. “Sam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“There’s no reason you would have, Benny.” He gave a weak smile. “It’s okay. Like I said, it was a long time ago. Once he found out I’m not pure he wouldn’t touch me with a ten foot pole. Lot of the stuff I did after that didn’t really help me.”
“Would you… “ “No. Not after what he did.” He smiled thinly. “And he wouldn’t offer. I keep telling you, Benny. It’s fine.”
Alone in the dark in his room, though, he had to admit that it was not fine. He loved Dean. He’d never stopped wanting Dean. He knew how amazingly inappropriate it was; so was about ninety percent of the rest of their lives. There wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t miss the press of Dean’s lips onto his neck, the grip of his hands on his hip, the inexorable press of his body. He’d known then that it was gone forever – as soon as he found out that the angels had shown him Sam’s shame, the guilt of his blood and his mother’s deal, it had been over. The filth that ran through his veins, the impurity that he’d felt since before he could speak, they were too much for Dean to bear and he’d been repulsed by the body he once couldn’t get enough of. Sex with Ruby had just been icing on the cake. Drinking demon blood hadn’t mattered then. That didn’t mean that he didn’t miss it. It didn’t mean that he hadn’t lapped up every crumb of affection and approval that Dean had cast in his direction, like a starving mouse. Jumping into the Cage hadn’t been enough to cleanse him of his guilt, to prove himself human enough to regain Dean’s love. Defending him from Osiris hadn’t been enough. Killing Osiris, killing Chronos, killing a damn dragon – none of it had been enough and Sam had accepted it. They were partners in hunting. Dean still chose other ways to keep his body amused.
And now – well, now the very idea was just a joke, wasn’t it? Sam could no more give himself to Dean if Dean wanted him than he could fly. It was one violation too many, one excess in a lifetime of violation. He couldn’t trust Dean. He could barely tolerate a comradely hug from another person. The thought of sex made him want to hide. The thought of allowing Dean, who had actually helped Gadreel to take him and now continued to believe that nothing had been done that was wrong, to even touch his arm made him want to shower. But God, he missed it.
His empty bed had never felt so lonely.
It only took another couple of days to come up with a solution. At that point he called his companions into the library and sat them down. They looked at him and at the items spread out on the table beside him expectantly. “What’s going on here, Sam?” Cas demanded with probably justifiable suspicion.
The tall hunter let out a long sigh. “All right. I’ve been looking into Dean’s memory issue – it’s been going on for about two weeks and it’s not showing any signs of getting any better, am I right?”
“I’ve told you what needs to happen to encourage a change, Sam,” the angel scowled. “Suitable placement of trigger objects should allow for a gradual reclamation of Dean’s memories –“
“Right. And we’ve talked about why that’s not really feasible, Cas.”
Now it was Dean’s turn to pull a face, and Sam had really not missed that particular expression of distrust and frustration. “What the hell is this?”
“I’ve identified what’s missing from your memory, Dean. Castiel thinks that leaving trigger objects around the bunker that might spark a memory would be helpful. The issue here is that there aren’t a lot of physical artifacts of these…. Aspects of your life.” He forced himself to keep himself calm. “It’s not really possible to leave trigger objects. I suppose I could strategically scatter a few salads around but that doesn’t exactly seem sanitary.” He managed half a smile, as close to humor as he got anymore.
“Okay, so what’s your solution?” the blond pressed. “Well, I’m going to offer you a choice. You seem…. You seem pretty happy right now, right, Dean?”
“What’s not to be happy about?”
“Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about. I know what you’ve forgotten and believe me when I tell you that you are much happier now that you’ve forgotten… that crap. So, so much happier and better off. You’ve got Benny here by your side, you’ve got Cas, just… trust me. So. I’m going to give you two options. I’m going to leave you here with a spell I found in the Men of Letters archives. It comes from ancient Cappadocia, if you care, and it comes with a potion that I’ve already mixed up and put into this handy cruet set. The potion will finish setting at the end of a week. At the end of the week, you can mix the cruets, drink it up, read the spell that I’ve written out phonetically on this handy piece of paper here and those memories will be permanently erased from your psyche. Even if someone comes up and tells you what they are, you won’t remember them.”
“Sam, no.” Cas stood, eyes blazing. “I won’t let you do this to him.”
“It isn’t your choice, Cas. That’s the whole point. It’s his damn choice. I’m not forcing this on him. I’m not taking away his choice the way – anyway. The other option is that you do nothing. I do have one trigger object that might help. I’d rather not leave it behind but I guess whatever works. I’m going to leave it with your brother.” The word tasted like ash on his mouth. “I’m going to ask that he let you see it in a week’s time – however you think is best, Benny. Whatever works for you. I think my work here is done and it’s time for me to move on, so I’m going to go ahead and move on. I’ve already fixed up one of the bikes; I’ll take that one and head on out now.” He passed Benny the package containing the amulet Dean had discarded after their free tour of Heaven. “Give it a week, Benny. Then do what you want.” He gave Dean what he hoped passed for a smile. “Either way, good luck, Dean. I’m glad you’ve got a brother you can love and trust.”
“Thanks, man. Good luck to you. I hope you can work things out with yours.”
“Thanks.” He saw that Dean was already looking at the potions on the table. “See ya.”
He left for the garage. Cas and Benny both followed him. “You can’t do this, Sam,” Cas insisted. “You’re not safe out there!”
“Bullshit, Cas. No one’s gunning for me and you know it.” He huffed. “I’m not important, now the Apocalypse’s over. No one’s in the market for a slightly used Antichrist these days. I’m safer out there than I am in here if Dean remembers who I am, and if he decides that he doesn’t want to well then I just don’t want to know.”
“I thought you said you wanted him to be happy, Sam,” Benny challenged.
“I do. Doesn’t make it any easier.” He sighed and shook Benny’s cold hand. “I… take care of him, Benny. Thanks for coming back.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Sam got on his bike and drove away.
It took him about three days to get to Manhattan. He’d found a reference to another Men of Letters facility, a mini-bunker, underneath St. Patrick’s. It wasn’t huge, no mega-bunker in the center of the country, but it was a lot more than most New Yorkers could claim – bed space and a decent library, a better-than-bad stock of spell supplies, and the fantastic water pressure that seemed to obsess the Men of Letters. It didn’t take long to get the place into working order, just a matter of fixing and updating the wards checking the wiring and updating the security. Once he had that taken care of he was able to go out and find a job. It wasn’t hard to get one tending bar at a nice place in Hell’s Kitchen, a place that was so far off the scale from the typical Winchester hangout that he was positive he’d never encounter anyone by accident here. He kept an eye on his phone by the end of the week, when Dean either would have chosen to erase him or to remember.
After a few days he was forced to admit that no one would call. He tried not to be hurt by it. After all, he’d left. Either Dean had chosen to erase something permanently that he’d warned would be painful to remember on his advice – which was what he’d told him was the best idea – or he remembered and didn’t feel compelled to contact Sam. Either way, this was his life now. He needed to get used to it – and to find something else to keep him going.
He settled into life in the Big Apple pretty readily. He’d been kind of hesitant about such a big city with so many cameras but honestly the only place he ever really felt overly crowded was Times Square and there wasn’t any real reason to ever go there. He found that he got along well with the other staff at the bar, and he found that some of the regulars at the bar were pretty easygoing too. He even made a couple of friends – other bar staff who kept similar hours and shared a relatively similar lifestyle. He wouldn’t call them exactly close, but who was the last person he’d been close to? Meg? They were people to trade books and watch games with. Most of the time he stuck to the Men of Letters library in his underground dwelling and tried not to think about it. Sometimes there were Yankee tickets; he never said no when they became available.
It wasn’t as though there wasn’t anything supernatural going on in New York. He just didn’t go looking for it. Sometimes it found him. One of the bouncers was a vampire. Sam caught him drinking from a blood bag one night after closing. The poor guy panicked – he’d thought Sam had gone home, and how had he missed Sam’s heartbeat and scent and everything? Sam assured him it was cool so long as he didn’t go killing people, it wasn’t like he was the first vampire Sam had met. He met a couple of psychics, a witch or two. They weren’t really sure what to make of him – it wasn’t like he advertised himself or really had much left to advertise these days – but they did start coming into the bar more often, seeing it as a safer place to be, so there was that.
A month turned into two. He got a text from Benny. “Saw you on TV yesterday at the game. You look good.” He gave a little laugh. He hadn’t even known that the camera had panned the crowed at that point.
Two months turned into three. Sam found himself working a Sunday afternoon shift with Marcel, a graduate student who had the singular advantage of looking like a slightly older Cykeem White. If Sam was going to be lonely and working on a slow Sunday afternoon he might as well be in the company of someone pleasant to talk to and look at. Sam liked working with Marcel. He could talk about just about anything – physics, literature, art, baseball, Doctor Who – and he would never ever expect more than a good conversation and the occasional appreciative glance. Sometimes they even went to a game or the Met off-hours. At the moment there weren’t a lot of people in the place, just one guy in the corner reading and a handful of local guys in the back watching the Mets lose.
And that’s when they came in. Cas, Benny and finally Dean. Marcel wasn’t psychic or at least hadn’t ever disclosed to him that he was psychic but he sure picked up on the change in Sam right away. He straightened up and moved closer to his colleague, hand on the old baseball bat that they kept under the bar just in case. “You okay, Sam?” he muttered. “You want me to call the police?”
“No,” he said after a second’s hesitation, not taking an eye off the trio. It was hard to get a read off them, especially Dean. Dean had gotten to be difficult to read since he’d taken the Mark anyway, and well, it wasn’t like Sam could trust his idea of Dean anymore. “Just… don’t go too far.” The trio approached the bar. “Can I help you?” Sam asked. He had an angel blade on him, sheathed in his oversized pants.
“New York, huh?” Benny drawled. “Never did think that I’d see a Lafitte in New York City. Always figured it was too Yankee.”
“New York’s always had deep ties to Louisiana,” Sam told him almost absently. “Not in great ways, but you know. Can’t erase history and all that. You looking for a drink or a history lesson?”
“It’s good to see you, Sam,” Cas monotoned, stepping forward. “We’ve been looking for you.”
Marcel pulled his head back, face contorted in confusion. “Dude’s got a phone. He’s not the most social guy but he’s around when you call him.”
Sam couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth twitch at that. He pulled out his phone at that and waved it at them. He pulled up the text from Benny. “I know you know the number,” he pointed out.
Benny let out a laugh. “Probably should have thought of that before we started harassing people about you. Talk about hiding in plain sight, you were on national TV, Sam. Right there on Saturday Baseball – the announcers kept making them pan back to you. The Bleacher Hottie, they kept calling you.”
“That’s Marisol,” he corrected. “I was sitting next to Marisol.”
“No. No, they were definitely talking about you. Marisol’s biceps were not of interest.” The vampire shook his head.
“So what is this place, Sam?” Dean wanted to know. “This your new Stanford?”
Marcel looked at him. “You went to Stanford?”
“I had to drop out. It’s a bar, Dean. You might be familiar with them.” So Dean remembered him. Well, that was something at least. Now he knew, anyway.
“No dartboard, no pool tables, no normal beers on tap. This is not a bar, Sam, this is pretension with a men’s room.”
“And yet you’re standing here.” Stupid to think that anything would be different when he got his memories back. “Why?”
“Why? To bring you home, dumbass. I’ve let you perpetrate this little charade long enough. It’s time to get back to work.” Dean scowled.
Sam folded his arms across his chest. “I am at work, Dean. Here. Now either order a drink – with cash – or get out.”
The trio exchanged glances. Benny and Dean retreated to a table where they could see the game and the bar. Cas stayed at the bar. “I would like some tequila please,” he informed in the same deadpan monotone. “I believe that we will wait for your shift to be over.”
Sam shrugged. “You can wait all you want, Cas.” He poured some of the good stuff for the angel. “Here – it’s better than that rotgut you drank at Bobby’s.”
He texted Jose, the vampire bouncer, and asked for backup at the end of his shift. He knew his ally would take care of the others.
“I like this place. It’s very… you.” The angel looked around and gave half a smile. “It suits you.”
“He suits us too,” Marcel told him flatly. “He’s been good for this place.”
Cas blinked. “Are you suggesting that women objectify him and therefore spend more?”
The grad student gaped. “Not real well versed in subtlety, are you? No. I mean maybe some do, but Sam’s easy on the eyes. He’s also a professional. He puts all the customers at ease. It’s a good thing. I take it you three know him then?”
“Yes. I’ve known him personally for about five years now, by reputation for rather longer. I live with his brother and his brother’s partner in Kansas.”
He glanced at the pair. Brother’s partner. So getting his memories back didn’t mean that Dean and Benny had split up at all. Well, that was fine. It was what Sam had wanted. Still wanted. Dean needed an anchor. He needed to not feel alone. He missed Dean, missed his touch, would never not miss his touch but he would never have it again.
His shift wore on. Cas remained at the bar; Dean and Benny stayed at their table. Sam knew what they were doing of course. They were keeping watch over him, preventing him from leaving. He tried not to let it get to him but Marcel knew him well enough to see the effects. “You want me to call the cops and throw these guys out?” he asked quietly. “They’re obviously making you uncomfortable. If your shoulders got any tenser you’d have no neck.”
He grimaced. “Trust me, no one wants to get the police involved with these guys. I’ll sit down and have a quiet conversation with them after my shift ends and Jose gets here.” He glanced around. Martina the witch was already on site; that was a huge relief to him. He scribbled a note under the coaster of the drink he poured for her – the newest IPA in the rotation, like always; she liked hops and excitement.
“So it’s one of those kinds of things,” Marcel smiled. When Sam raised an eyebrow, he snorted. “Please. Like I don’t see you guys talking amongst yourselves. I don’t know what it is that you’re into specifically, but I know that Martina over there is someone you don’t want to mess with if you know what’s good for you. And Phil? I’ve seen what he can do with his mind. Telekinetic.”
“You know about that stuff?” He shrugged. “I was always kind of interested in research. I just got a scholarship to research Harlem Renaissance literature instead.”
A thought occurred to Sam. “Ever think about doing both?”
“You know me and books, Sam.”
He grinned. “We should talk. After this, I mean.”
Sam’s shift ended as the bar got fuller. Jose was not the bouncer on duty tonight, so he got there right as Sam came off duty and shook hands with Sam. “What’s up, buddy?” he demanded.
Castiel stood. “Your shift is over. It’s time to go home now.”
“I see.” Jose smirked a little.
“Cas, meet Jose Chavez. He’s a friend of mine. Jose, this is Castiel. He’s an angel.” The vampire managed to keep a straight face. Sam wasn’t entirely sure how. “All right. We can go sit at the table with Dean and Benny – uh, Benny, by the way, is a vampire and Dean is a hunter – but I’m not leaving the premises. We clear, Cas?”
The angel tilted his head to the side and considered. “You want to talk.”
“I’m willing to talk.” Cas probably lacked the subtlety to know the difference. Dean might too at this point. Benny wouldn’t. “Let’s go.”
They grabbed chairs and pulled them up. Sam introduced his companion around. The two vampires stared for a moment, but ultimately behaved themselves. The former hunter wondered if there was a story there. Dean had calmed down a little; Sam couldn’t miss the unmistakable sight of Benny’s hand on his. “So… Hot Bartender Guy. You and him?”
“He’s asexual, Dean. No.”
“Well, you’ve been a monk since Amelia –“
“That’s different. I’m feel attraction, I’m just not capable of acting on my attraction because I can’t trust anyone to get that close and the thought of someone touching me makes my skin crawl. It’s… pretty frustrating, actually, and I wouldn’t put anyone through that.” Jose glanced at him.
Dean rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”
He shrugged. “You asked. I answered. You can speak freely in front of Jose, by the way. He doesn’t know everything about me, but he knows enough about what’s out there.”
His brother sighed. “So you’re trying to tell me you gave up sex because of Gadreel.”
And of course Dean wouldn’t get it. “No, Dean, I didn’t ‘give up’ sex. I lost the comfort of sex because the person I trusted most – the last person left to me, stone number one – was part of violating my mind, body and soul and then lied to me about it. You made me doubt my sanity. You made me doubt what’s left of my humanity. You made me believe that I was becoming more of a monster than I already am.”
Dean slammed his hand on the table. Customers at nearby tables flinched and turned around. “Damn it Sam, you were going to die!”
“Yeah, about that. You heard me tell Death that I specifically didn’t want anyone to be able to undo it or deal it away because I didn’t want any harm to come to anyone because of me.”
“I couldn’t have that, Sam!”
“And what about me, huh Dean? You couldn’t have that. So instead I have to go to sleep every night and watch my hands striking Kevin down and live with the fact that he’s going to stay trapped as a ghost forever because of the problem with the Veil.”
“I told you that’s on me!”
“No, that’s on fucking Gadreel. He made the choice to do it. But they’re still my hands, Dean. And he was able to get to Kevin because Gadreel was in my body. And Kevin believed he was safe in the bunker, and he thought he was safe then because he thought he was talking to me. There are other people who Gadreel killed – there’s a father, who has a little girl and now she’s got to wonder the rest of her life what happened and she knows that this is the face associated with her father’s murder. Because you handed it to him. You…. My…history with possession… that didn’t matter to you. I saw his memories. You knew what it would do to me, you just didn’t care. You didn’t care what it would do to me, you just didn’t want me to leave.”
“Did you forget that I went to Hell for you?” Dean spat.
“Nope. I never do. That doesn’t mean you own me. I love you, Dean. But you don’t own me. Have you forgotten that I’ve done a tour there myself?” He forced himself into a calmer state. “Anyway. Why are you really here? I see you have your memories back. I told you that was a bad idea.”
“Who took the choice away from who there?” Dean demanded triumphantly.
Sam stared for a moment. “Uh… I presented the choices, made sure that you couldn’t jump the gun before both choices were available and left. What choice exactly did I take away from you?”
Benny snickered. “He’s got you there, brother.”
“You left, Sam. Why didn’t you just give me the amulet yourself?”
“You don’t think it bugged the shit out of me to be replaced, Dean? Again?” He sighed. “What did you want me to do, sit around and watch the two of you? Do you hate me that much that you want to rub my nose in it twenty-four seven? Or is it that you think I’m too much of a monster to actually have feelings, or to have them count for anything? It’s the only way I can account for what you did to me, after all.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he hissed. “You brought Benny back from Purgatory, remember? All by your damn self. You didn’t even ask me.”
“You were spiraling. You needed your brother.” He shrugged. “Thing is, you needed a brother you respected, a brother you would actually listen to. Not just a brother you felt compelled to warehouse and rent out to any passing angel or demon or whatever. So… I found you a better brother.”
“What?”
“All those times you told me that Benny was a better brother to you than I’d ever been? That he’d never let you down? Did you think I was deaf too?” He slumped back in his chair. “I gave you the brother you wanted. I didn’t expect him to become your only brother but whatever.”
Jose held up a hand. “Back it up, hold up. You reached into Purgatory and resurrected a vampire?”
“Uh… yeah?”
He glanced at his buddy. “Damn, you are one useful bartender.” He let out a barking laugh that, after a moment, Benny shared. “Goddamn, son. You are something else.”
Benny grinned. “He sure is.”
“Jose, could you give us a minute? I have some family stuff I need to say to Sam.” Dean glowered at the vampires.
The New Yorker glanced at Sam. “I’ll be right here, Sam. You just say the word. And Martina’s here, and I know I saw Phil and Eric both come in.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Surrounding yourself with vampires these days, Sammy?” Dean sneered. Benny kicked him under the table. “Ow!”
“Among other people. We find friends where we can, Dean.” He pushed his hair back. “What is it that you want to say?”
“Did it make you jealous to see me and Benny together?”
“I already told you that it did. You replaced me, Dean. And it’s okay, because it’s what I expected. You needed a brother you didn’t need to manage, a brother you didn’t need to warehouse. Well, you have that now. You’re not alone.”
“But I remember you now. You can come back.”
“Why?”
“You’re jealous because of me and Benny…”
“So?” He snorted. “Are you seriously trying to pretend that we were ever going to go back to what we were? Like you were ever going to go back to not being disgusted by what you saw every time you looked at me after you found out about Mom’s deal? After Ruby? Are you seriously trying to pretend that if I went back to the bunker that you would even be able to bring yourself to touch my face with your bare hand?”
Dean’s breath hitched. “I…if I had to. If that’s what I have to do.” What did that little hitch mean? Did it mean revulsion? Steeling himself to do something that he didn’t want to do? Or did it mean that somewhere deep, deep down he missed what they used to have too?
“No, Dean. Just… no. I’m not…” He felt a tear drop down from his face. “I’m not willing to be something you ‘have’ to do. Here? Here I may be lonely, but at least I’m not an obligation.”
“It’s not like we’re monogamous, Sam,” Benny murmured, squeezing Dean’s hand. “He loves you.”
“But he’s happy with you, Benny. I’ve got eyes. He’s sitting here holding your hand. He never held mine. Only one person’s ever held mine and that was - well, that’s irrelevant. Dean, even if you’re making yourself overcome your revulsion, because what part of I can’t do that anymore do you just not get? When you put that thing in me, Dean – when I found out what you did, how you just kept lying about it and making me think something was wrong with me, that I was turning into something awful again – I just can’t let anyone. I can’t.”
“So, what now?” Dean had that tear, that One Perfect Tear that squeezed out when he was feeling upset. “We’re not brothers anymore?”
“Heh. Dean, we’ll always be brothers. But even you have to admit that what we were was toxic. It was by the end, anyway. To both of us.” He glanced over at Marcel, who was watching the exchange from behind the bar with a look of extreme distrust. “I’m going to restart the Men of Letters.”
Dean’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. “You’re gonna what now?”
“I’m going to restart the Men of Letters,” Sam repeated. “I’ve got some promising candidates already. I’ll swing by the bunker every now and again. We’ll do the research thing. You’ll do the hunting thing.”
“And you’ll just hang out in New York by yourself being lonely.” Dean snorted. “That’s healthy.”
“I wasn’t healthy before, Dean. That’s kind of my point. But I want you and Benny to be… Look, I can’t get over what you did to me. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. I’ll always love you. And I want you to be happy. I also want to be a person, do you understand me? I want to be a person in my own right, and I can do that here.”
“I… I don’t think I can do this without you, Sammy,” his brother told him shakily.
He beckoned Jose back over. “It’s not really without me. It’s just different. And that’s okay.”
Dean slid the amulet over to him. “I guess I don’t need this anymore then. I thought you left it behind because you wanted to be brothers again.”
He let his fingers trace over the familiar lumps. “Keep it, Dean. We were brothers while you were in Hell. We were brothers while I was in Hell. We can sure as Hell be brothers while I’m in New York.”