Rating: NC-17 or adult for m/m sex and violence
Pairing:Sam/Dean, Sam/OMC
Category: slash, drama, au, future fic
Spoilers: AHBL2, Something Wicked, WIAWSNB, Pilot, Supernatural Origins:1, Hunted, BUABS
Series: Not yet
Disclaimer: I don't own any these characters or the Supernatural universe. This work of fiction is not written for profit.
Notes: I'd like to thank Lapillus for the beta and handholding. Title is from a Springsteen song.

Summary: Twenty years after Dean's death, Sam meets a young man who knows more than he should about Sam and the supernatural.

Gina only noticed the psychic shop in an abstract sort of way. It was nestled between the Chinese massage parlor and one of the obnoxious stands where you shot water into the mouths of creepy looking clowns in order to fill large balloons on the tops of their heads. Every time some kid won, a siren went of and a red light flashed.

She never would have come here except that Cindy swore this guy had helped her. He had broken the curse, or whatever had made Cindy’s life a total hell for the last few months of school. Cindy was her best friend and Gina trusted her. If she said this guy was okay, then Gina would check him out.

The shop was tiny, smaller than the two beside it. The fading paint over the door declared “Psychic” inside, with a hand-printed sign listing the prices for a palm reading or a tarot card spread. Inside, she found a chair under the window, a counter at the back, and a small booth with a curtain swirling in the breeze of a fan pumping on the other side of the room.

“Hi, can I help you?” he appeared from the doorway in the back, probably to a store room or something like that. Gina had to look up, then look up even more. He was huge, and looked nothing like what she expected a psychic to look like. He dressed in jeans and a simple gray t-shirt, smiling with crinkled lines in the corners of his hazel eyes. She might have found him attractive, if he wasn’t like, her dad’s age.

“Um. Yeah. I’m Gina. You helped my friend Cindy out a few months ago.”

He tensed visibly. “Curse came back?”

Gina shook her head. “No, not that I know of. I, well, it’s my brother. I told Cindy about it and she suggested I talk to you.”

“Well, I am a good listener.” He smiled. “I go by ‘Frederick’ but Pam next door calls me Freddy. Would you care to take this to the booth for privacy?” Freddy gestured to the swirling curtain.

“Um, sure.”

“Just so we won’t be interrupted. Though, as you can see, I get so much business.” He tugged the curtain aside and stepped in. Gina followed, thinking how similar this was to the confessional in her church. Inside she found two comfortable looking chairs around a small table, probably where he did the tarot readings. “Have a seat.”

She sat, dropping her purse on the floor next to her. Gina didn’t quite know what to do with her hands, so she folded them on her lap. Eight years of Catholic school training was hard to break, even after three years in a public high school. He sat across from her, stretching out his long legs under the table.

“How can I help?”

“Well, it’s my big brother, Tony. He’s been having these dreams for a few months now,” Gina began. “He didn’t want to tell me about them, but after he woke me up screaming, I made him.”

“Sounds like you’re being a good sister.”

Gina shrugged. “He says he’s dreaming this whole other life.  He’s got another name, and the other morning he didn’t even know who I was when he woke up.”

Freddy frowned. “What do you think it is?”

“You’re the one who’s supposed to know about this past life bullshit! Uh, sorry.”

He smiled. “Lots of people have dreams. They don’t always mean anything. It could just be stress or something like that. Did he tell you anything else?”

“He doesn’t want to talk about it. Although the other night...he said something about the yellow eyed man coming after him.”

Frederick changed before her eyes. He stiffened, face twisting from friendly and open to guarded and frightened. “A yellow-eyed man?”

“Yeah, is that important?”

He rubbed a hand across his face. “Yeah. Yeah it is. Listen, Gina, I really need to talk to your brother. Is there any way you can have him come by? I’ll give you my card...”

“Oh, sure.”  Sensing the interview was over, Gina stood and followed the psychic out. He handed her a tiny business card with the shop’s hours and a phone number.

“Tell him to come by as soon as possible.”

“Is he, this is bad, right?”

Freddy shrugged. “I hope we can catch it before it turns into anything bad.”

Gina hoped so too. She tucked the card in her purse before turning to leave. A chill ran through her as she walked back along the boardwalk.

***

Sam tried to shake it off after the girl had left. He hadn’t heard or seen any sign of the yellow eyed demon since Dean had killed him almost twenty years ago now. Granted there could be more than one yellow eyed demon, but he had read anything he could find on the subject. There had been no signs of another, and no yellow eyed men had haunted his visions for decades now.

He nearly picked up the phone. Sam got as far as putting his hand on the one in the shop before snatching it away. No, he needed to talk to this boy first, find out what exactly was going on. He could handle this on his own, like he had learned to handle every single hunt for the past twenty years. Even still, it would be stupid to approach this without protections. Sam decided he needed to check his stock of salt, and renew the wards around the shop. He would be prepared for anything.

That night, he dreamt of Dean.

Dean as he had been that last night: standing tall, proud, confident. Not afraid of death.

“Don’t go alone,” Sam had begged from their motel room. They had spent the day together, the night eating takeout and watching Dean’s favorite bad horror movies.

“You know what Bobby said.” Dean smiled. “It’s the only choice we have.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I wish I could have...”

“Shh.” Dean stepped back into the room. “Don’t you dare.”

The hug surprised him, it shouldn’t have. Dean was saying goodbye. He buried his lips against Sam’s neck, pulled away slightly. He brought up his hands to cup Sam’s face between them, then leaned forward to press a soft kiss against his lips.

Sam sat up straight in his bed. No, that hadn’t happened. Dean had never crossed that line between them, never kissed his brother, never made them lovers. No matter how much Sam had wished him to. He’d spent the past two decades alone, wondering about what ifs and what could have beens. If he had only approached Dean himself, made his brother face up to what lay between them.

He swallowed hard and slid out of bed. Sam would not be getting any more sleep tonight.

***

The thing about little sisters was that they were pains in the ass. And Tony Del Toro had the misfortune of having two of them. If Gina wasn’t pestering him about his stupid nightmares, then Rosa was asking him for a ride to the mall. And of course, if he denied them anything, his dad would give him the family speech. He could repeat that speech word for word by now.

Tony rolled over in bed, trying to ignore the pounding on his door. Rosa was whining about him promising to drive her today and why wasn’t he up yet. Finally he sat up and shouted, “Because it’s the summer dumbass and it’s too freaking early!”

“Mom! Tony said a bad word!”

Oh god, now he was in for it. Tony tossed the covers aside and climbed out of bed. Rosa had finally left his door alone, probably ran to tell mom.

“Hey.” Gina poked her head out of her room. They shared a wall where their beds rested. That was how she had heard him screaming during his last bout of nightmares. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” he tried to shrug her off. And for once it was true, he hadn’t been plagued by any of his dreams last night.

“You’re going to see that guy today, right?” She opened the door a bit more and leaned against the wall. Gina was still in her PJs, unlike Rosa she didn’t get up at the crack of stupid.

He rubbed his eyes. “Gina, come on. A boardwalk psychic?”

“Shh,” she looked down the hall. “Mom’ll hear. And he totally helped Cindy. I mean, it was really freaky, her hair was falling out in clumps, her mom got into that bad car accident, and then...well, look, after he did his thing all that stopped.”

“Could have just been a coincidence.”

“C’mon, what could it hurt? You go there, throw five dollars on a palm reading and come home and laugh at me.”

“Fine, but if it’s bullshit, you’re paying me back the five bucks.”

“Deal.”

He stumbled downstairs. Rosa was at the table munching on her toaster waffles. She had an evil gleam on her face. Before he could figure out why, his mother twapped him gently on the shoulder. “Don’t curse around your little sister. Now sit and eat your breakfast.”

Tony sighed. “Can’t we have real waffles?”

“Saturday. I don’t have time this morning. You’re taking your sister to the mall, right?”

He poured the maple syrup liberally over the plate of yellow waffles his mother placed in front of him. “Yeah, but I can’t pick her up. I’m working in the Surf Shop this afternoon.”

“Stop by your father’s and let him know. He’ll pick her up.” Mom dropped a brown paper back on the table. “And give him his lunch. He forgot it again this morning.” She planted a kiss on his forehead, ignored his protests. “Be good,” she directed at Rosa, “Listen to your older brother. I’ll see you later. Meatloaf tonight!”

“Yay!” Rosa shouted.

“Yay,” Tony rolled his eyes. He hoped she was making mashed potatoes, nobody made homemade mashed potatoes quite like his mom.

“Hurry up, Tony,” Rosa dropped her plate in the sink.

“You’re thirteen,” he grumbled, “shouldn’t you be sleeping till noon? What’s so important at the mall anyway?”

She just gave him that glare that he swore she learned from Mom and he sighed and gave in, like he always did. “Just let me shower...”

Rosa was just thrilled to be at the mall, so she was in a good mood when he dropped her off. Tony swung his Civic around, towards his dad’s garage on the main drag into town. He knew these streets so well he was pretty darn sure he could drive blindfolded. Somedays he wished he could just get away from this town, travel, see the world. Other times he wondered how he could ever want to leave.

Terry and Jamal waved at him when he entered the garage. They were working on a sweet looking ride in the front of the shop. Tony was tempted to stop by and see, but he was actually on a schedule today. He pushed open the door to the back room. His dad, Tony Del Toro, Sr., sat behind his desk, swearing under his breath at his computer screen.

“Hey Dad,” Tony said, dropped the bag on the desk. “Mom sent me with your lunch.”

“Thanks, kid. Hey, do you think you could?” Dad gestured towards the screen.

Tony swiveled it around and ran his fingers along the motion sensitive screen. The keyboard projected itself directly in front of the machine. “You always forget how to do that, Dad. Don’t close the keyboard this time.”

“I wouldn’t do it if I knew how I did it!”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’ve got work this afternoon. Can you pick Rosa up at the mall?”

“No problem.” Dad pushed some of the keys experimentally. “You should find yourself a better job. How do you expect to afford college on minimum wage?”

“I could work at the garage,” Tony said pointedly.

“No, you’re going to work with your head, not your hands like your old man.”

Tony mouthed the words to himself as his dad spoke them. “Then you’ll just have to keep paying for school then, Dad.”

His father waved his hands at him. “Get out of here, go earn some money.”

Tony laughed as he left. “Love you too, Dad.”

***

Sam knelt in the tiny stockroom behind the counter. A shipment of fresh herbs had just come in and he had to unpack it quickly before it spoiled. He was in the midst of separating the bags into piles when the motion sensor near the door chimed.

“Just a sec!” He called behind him.

“Hello?” a voice called back. “I’m Tony Del Toro, my sister said you wanted to see me?”

Sam stiffened and dropped the packages. He stood and swiped his knife from the shelves, hiding it up his sleeve. Better be safe than sorry. Although if the kid was demonic, there was no way he could have gotten over the salt line Sam had laid on the doorway this morning. “Your sister is really worried about you,” Sam called back, trying to get a glimpse of the kid through the doorway.

“She’s a pain. It’s really no big deal...” his words trailed off as Sam stepped through the door.

Tony wasn’t a bad looking guy, all golden tanned skin beneath wavy dark hair. Under his t-shirt he was all muscle, built stocky, not slim. His dark eyes narrowed when he saw Sam, the color abruptly draining from his face.

Sam held out his hand and forced a smile. “I’m Fred.”

Tony shook Sam’s hand absently. “That’s not your name.”

The words startled Sam. He focused his mind on the skin to skin contact, trying to get a sense of this young man. He wasn’t a mind reader like Missouri, but usually he could get a good sense of a person, or what they wanted from him if he could touch them. Tony wasn’t giving off any vibes that Sam could sense and had caught Sam in a lie. Both of those gave great warning signals, telling Sam he could be dealing with another psychic.

“No. It’s not.” Sam pulled his hand away with a frown. Then he made his decision. “I’m Sam.”

Rather than make the boy feel better, his words seem to have agitated him. Tony looked away, sticking his hand in the pockets of his shorts. “Tony, but I said that already.”

“Do you want to sit down, Tony?” Sam tried to keep his voice light. He pulled back the curtain on the booth. “I have some water in the back if you’re thirsty.”

“No, no thanks.” Tony slid onto one of the chairs, looking up at Sam. He bit his lip, then looked away again. It was almost as if he couldn’t bear to look at Sam for long. Tony fidgeted, then grabbed the deck of tarot cards Sam had left on the table from his previous client. “These things really work?” He began to shuffle them absently, long tapered fingers precise in his movements.

Sam dropped into the seat across from him. “Sometimes. Why don’t you tell me about your dreams?”

Tony began flipping through the deck, raising his eyebrows at an illustration, probably the one with the nudity, Sam thought. “I don’t even know you.” Tony kept playing with the deck.

“Your sister thought I could help.”

“My sister also thinks Olivia Gentry is the next best thing on the music scene.”

Sam smiled. “Would it help if I said I have no idea who that is?”

Tony grimaced. “Trust me, it’s better that way. She has no appreciation for good music.”

“And you do?” Sam couldn’t keep from grinning.

“Nobody appreciates the early 1990s man.”

Sam laughed, then coughed into his hand. “Boybands and Brittany Spears?”

Tony shook his head. “Nirvana and Green Day, man.”

“Ok, stop it before I start feeling even older.” Sam calmed his expression. “Tell me about the yellow eyed man.”

Tony stiffened, all the work Sam had done with the relaxing conversation undid with those few words. “It doesn’t make much sense.”

“Is he...telling you to do things?” Sam asked cautiously. He didn’t want to hear that, didn’t want evidence that it was all going to start happening all over again. Why couldn’t the bastard stay dead?

Tony looked up at him again, his eyes puzzled. “No, he’s dead.”

The voice clearly expressed that Sam should have known that somehow. Sam sat back, confused. “But...”

“In my dreams I’m someone else. He’s after me, but it’s only part of it. It’s like I’m living two lives, I’m him when I’m asleep and when I’m awake, I’m just me.” Tony set the cards on the table, throwing the top card off the deck. “And the two lives never met.” He stood up. “I have to get to work, I’m at the Surf Shop on the other side of the boardwalk. I’m sorry.”

“Tony, wait,” Sam reached for the kid’s wrist. Tony stiffened at the touch, closing his eyes. Sam wondered if Tony was empathic, picking up on Sam’s confusion and panic. “Please, you can tell me more. You can trust me.”

“I know.” Tony said, the simple words startling Sam because the man meant them. “But I do have to get to work. I’ll be back.” He shook off Sam’s hand and moved to the door. “I promise.”

Sam picked up the lone card on the table, frowning at the twined image of the Lovers. Meeting Tony had answered none of his questions and had only given him more.

***

He didn’t see Tony again for a week. That wasn’t surprising. August had just begun and that was the busiest time for the tourist town. Sam had his usual string of teenage girls who wanted to know if their crushes would fall in love with them, bored house wives, concerned people down on their luck and giddy couples wanting to know about their future happiness. Occasionally he’d get a wind of something real, something supernatural going on.

Other times he’d get a call from one of his few contacts. This time it was Jo. They hadn’t spoken in months and it was good to hear from her. She was one of the few left who had known Dean.

“Got a wind of a possession not too far from you.”

Sam smiled at the voice on the other end of his phone line. “When you say not too far, do you mean by plane or car?”

“Two hours at the most, smartass, even with the way you drive. I’m sending you the info now.”

“I didn’t say I was doing it.” Sam grumbled.

“Bullshit, Sam. You’re the demon expert now.”

Now that Bobby was gone, she meant. Sam sighed. “Fine, I’ll go.  Not that I’m surprising you with that or anything. I’ll call when I get back.”

So she would know he was okay. That’s how they’d run it the past few years, bare contact, only when necessary. Sam only saw Jo when something big was going down.

The possession case seemed straightforward. Strange murders in a small town in Pennsylvania, and all signs pointed to the normally sweet natured daughter of the town’s sheriff. Sam hoped he wouldn’t be too late.

For this he needed the Impala. He kept her in decent shape, despite the difficulties in running an antiquated vehicle on fuel that wasn’t readily available anymore. He figured he’d get another year or so out of her, tops, before he had to give in and switch to a more economical car.

Sam rented a garage about six blocks from the apartment behind his shop. There was no way he wanted to park her on the street, never mind the sheer difficulty in finding parking during the hectic summer months. The money he saved in meters went into the price of the garage.

He had unlocked the padlock and threw the doors of the garage open when Sam heard a low whistle behind him.

“Nice ride.”

Tony Del Toro stood behind him, leaning against a car parked on the street.

Sam snorted. “Not so nice if you saw my gas bills.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t had her converted yet?” Tony looked affronted.

“Not in my budget, or my skill set, I’m afraid.”

Tony shrugged. “I could take a look at it for you. I’ve been itching to work on a classic car. Dad doesn’t think it’s a smart hobby.”

Sam could hear the hope in the kid’s voice. “Maybe some other time. I kinda need her right now. What are you doing around here, anyway?” He tried to deflect attention away from where exactly he was going.

“Walking back from work. I have to park in the boonies, Ted’s doesn’t have employee parking.” He pointed to the duffel Sam had left near the front of the door. “Going to be gone for long? I was hoping we could, ah, talk some more.”

There was nothing Sam would have liked more than to talk to Tony.  The mystery of his dreams was too important to ignore. But he couldn’t leave this girl in the clutches of a demon. “Might be a few days. Give a call to the shop on Thursday, see if I’m in. We can set up a meeting then.”

Tony gave him a long measuring look. “Sure thing, Sam.”

Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that he had missed something important. He waved to Tony as he left. Time was too important to waste.

***

He didn’t think of Tony again, the job took up too much of his energy. The girl had split by the time he got into town and it took all he had to track her down. Sam had to resort to a little trick he learned a few years back, a meditation ritual that brought on a vision. Afterwards he popped several caffeine pills for enough energy to finish the job.

He hadn’t figured on how strong she’d be. This wasn’t any of the weaker demons he had faced off against for the past two decades. She had to be higher level, at least on par with the crossroads demon.

Which is why he found himself running in the woods, tripping over branches as he chased the demon girl. Sam ran out into a clearing to find her standing there, waiting for him. Before he could take a breath, he was slammed hard against a tree, the wind knocked out of him. The first words of the exorcism, long since memorized, fell from his lips, before she twisted her hand to gag him with his own jacket.

“The infamous Sam Winchester,” she taunted, “I thought you were supposed to be something special. Instead you’re a joke.”

She put pressure on his wind pipe, like some twisted demonic Darth Vader. He choked, trying to get air, enough to focus his own gifts to fight hers. Just when he thought it was over a figure emerged from the shadows and slammed a shovel across the girl’s head.

Sam fell to the ground, coughing out his jacket. He didn’t waste any time, pulling out his plastic bottle of holy water from his pocket.

“Catch,” he tossed the bottle to the stranger, “dose her.”

“Holy water, I got it,” and Sam started at the voice. Tony Del Toro? He’d question him later, right now he had an exorcism to get through.

Tony kept her smoking and down while Sam chanted, sure of his words now that he could focus. The girl twitched, writhing as the ritual went on. Finally, as he drew to a close, she threw her head back and the demon escaped in a cloud of black smoke.

Sam knelt near the girl, checking her pulse. Her eyes opened and she gasped. “Oh my God.”

“Shh, easy.” He touched her cheek gently. “We’re going to take you to the hospital, when we get there, you’re not going to remember any of this. It’s going to be like a bad dream, okay?”

She nodded and her eyes closed as she faded into unconsciousness.

Sam looked up into Tony’s dark gaze. “We’ll talk later, we need to get her out of here.”

“You can do that?” Tony asked, after they had carried the girl back to the Impala and settled her in the back seat. “Make her forget.”

“Tony,” Sam sighed.

“Later, I know. I’ll meet you back at your motel. My car’s about a mile back.”

“How the hell did you...”

“Followed you. Really kinda rusty of you, Sam, not to notice.”

Sam’s vision blurred in front of him. He needed to sleep, then he could figure all this out. “Back at the hotel. Later.”

***

Tony was waiting for him when he pulled into the motel parking lot, leaning against a dark blue Civic. Sam pulled into the spot next to him and all but stumbled out of the car.

“Easy there,” Tony caught him. “You’re wrecked.”

Sam shook him off. “You owe me some answers.”

Tony stepped back and sighed. He ran a hand through his dark hair. “Look, at first they were just dreams. Weird and fucked up, yeah, but dreams. Then I met you.”

“What did meeting me have to do with it?” Sam bit out.

“I was dreaming about you, Sam.”

“You dreamt you were living my life?”

“No,” Tony said quietly. “Not you.”

Sam swallowed.

Tony continued, “I wasn’t sure it was real. I mean, sure you looked like an older version of the Sam I dreamt about, but I blew it off. It had to be a coincidence. Then I saw the car.” He patted the Impala gently on its side. “I figured you were going on a hunt, when I saw the bag. I knew I couldn’t let you go without backup...”

Sam waved a hand. “Backup. You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying. In your dreams...”

“In my dreams my name is Dean Winchester.”

***

Tony didn’t know why Sam was so reluctant to believe. If his life had been anything like Tony knew it had been, it was really stupid of Sam not to consider the truth.

“Look,” Sam explained patiently, “I know you think what you’ve seen is real, but you’re obviously another psychic, like me. You’ve been picking up on my memories or something...”

They had moved the conversation to Sam’s motel room, where the older man could apply an ice pack to the back of his head. Tony didn’t like how he was moving, stiff and careful. “Does it matter?” he said finally. “For whatever reason, I have your brother’s memories.”

Sam sighed. “How much do you remember?”

Tony shrugged. “If I haven’t dreamt it, I don’t know it. But I remember every single one of my dreams. To the last detail.”

“And what sort of things do you dream about?”

Tony looked away. There were things he could never tell Sam. “I have a few memories from when we, you guys, I mean, were kids. Like the time I, I mean Dean, wanted to teach you to swim, but the motel swimming pool was filled with junk and leftover furniture.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, remember that.”

“And I remember going against the yellow-eyed demon,” Tony continued. “That was the dream where I woke up screaming. Dad...you dad was possessed. And...” he swallowed. “I don’t always finish the story. One night I’m in the cabin and screaming, and the next night, it’s four years earlier and you’re leaving for Stanford.”

Sam stood and tossed the ice pack in the bathroom sink. “You know this is really weird for me, right?”

“How do you think this is for me, man? It’s all in my head. And until last week, I had no idea any of it was real.”

“Look, get some sleep.” Sam said finally after a minute of silence. Tony guessed he really didn’t have an answer to that. “I can’t stay awake for another second.”

“Goodnight Sam.” Tony said, leaving him alone in the hotel room.

He stopped outside the door and rested his head against it. Part of him was torn. He wanted to go back in there, stay and make sure his brother was all right.

But Tony didn’t have any brothers. He had two little sisters and the family he had lied to to follow Sam here. Even Ted at the Surf Shop thought he was home sick. Dammit, he thought, six months ago his life was normal. That was before he knew Sam Winchester was real, that monsters existed. Now he couldn’t unknow it. Tony just didn’t know what he was going to do now.

***


Part 2


Tony flipped his shades up as he walked down the crowded boardwalk. He could see a line of people outside Sam’s shop. Concerned, he jogged ahead and pushed his way inside only to find Sam trying to manage the crowd. Sam looked up with relief as Tony entered and stood on the table ordinarily in the little booth.

“Ok people, you all want to have your fortune read by S...Frederick, right?” he got the crowd’s attention. “I need two orderly lines. Palm readings over here, Tarot over there. Anything else, stand over here by me. Let’s move it, he doesn’t have all day.”

Apparently dealing with the last minute sale crowd over at the Surf Shop was great experience for managing a psychic shop. Sam did the readings and Tony collected the money. They worked smoothly together as if...as if they had been doing it their entire lives.

Tony bit his lip when that thought occurred to him. Being with Sam was like fixing something that he never knew was broken. He had too many memories in his head of what it felt like to lose Sam. Sam leaving on a bus for college, Sam trotting down a long dirt road, Sam’s body hanging limp in his arms.

He had to really focus to get out of the memories, they threatened to take him over. “Thank you, please come again soon,” he said to the girl in front of him, he had a feeling she’d been standing there for a while, holding out the five dollar fee for a palm reading.

A few hours later and the crowd was gone, except for an older woman, clutching a framed photograph.

“Tony, come hear this.” Sam waved him over. “Mrs. Williams this is Tony, my, uh, assistant.”

Tony gave Sam a startled look. Part of him wanted to say ‘assistant? I taught you everything you know, Francis’ but he shoved Dean down for the moment. The other part was flattered. Sam’s acceptance meant that he wanted Tony there. He felt himself flushing under the attention.

“Nice to meet you,” Mrs. Williams said politely. “I hope you can help. I think my father is haunting me.”

Tony blinked. “Why do you think that?”

She sighed. “He never approved of Gary, my husband. He didn’t want me to marry him. Didn’t even come to the reception. Never spoke to Gary when he could avoid it. He was so angry when we moved down here. He passed on shortly after we moved. Ever since then I can hardly sleep at night for all the racket. Things tumbling off shelves, doors slamming shut. I just...can’t take it anymore.”

Sam nodded and took her hand. “We’ll do what we can to help. We need to come to your home though, see what I can sense.”

We? thought Tony, feeling that flush of pride again.

“Oh, of course. Not today though, Gary is home and he doesn’t believe in all this nonsense. He thinks it’s just the house settling. Can you come by tomorrow at two?”

Sam looked over at him and Tony nodded back slightly. He could work with that. “We’ll be there,” he told Mrs. Williams.

After she left Sam turned and gave him a grin. “You did good there.”

“It’s all my retail experience.” Tony grinned back. “If you’re this popular you really need an extra hand around here.”

Sam was putting the ‘closed’ sign in the window. “It rarely gets that bad. I guess word of mouth is spreading.”

“That you’re the real deal?”

“I’ve helped a few people around here.” Sam shrugged. “You want to grab something to eat?”

“How about Rich’s ice cream?” Tony led the way out of the shop. “Best ice cream on the boardwalk.”

Sam locked the door behind him and fell into step with Tony. “Sounds good.”

“So, uh,” Tony gave him a sideways glance as they walked. He had a million questions to ask and didn’t know where to start. “My sister’s friend Cindy. She was one of the people you helped. What really happened?”

Sam shrugged. “Your basic high school rivalry gone wrong. Someone got their hands on a witch’s grimoire and cast some nasty spells. I found the kid, reversed the curse and burned the damn book.”

Tony winced. “Nobody got killed though, right?”

“I found the book in time. It was a pretty nasty curse. And then I hit every library in town looking for anything else that was ‘miss-shelved.’ Found two other spell books in the archives. I liberated those.”

Tony laughed at the sudden mental image of Sam setting the books free from the libraries. They had reached the ice cream place and got in line. The influx of people would only die down after labor day. Until then they’d just have to deal with the tourists. Tony bounced on the balls of his feet, he never really liked staying still.

“So the psychic thing,” he asked softly, mindful of the crowd, though everyone seemed involved in either choosing flavors or their own conversations. “How much has changed?”

Sam was quite for a moment, staring through the glass display at the Very Berry Chocolate Swirl. “I still get visions, though not frequently. The telekinesis is very basic, I can toss a car, but I really have no control which way it goes.”

“What about making that chick forget? And all the crap at the booth? You said you didn’t read minds.”

“Remember Andy? I mean, have you dreamt him yet?” Sam turned to look at him. “He could make people do what he wanted.”

“He Obi-Wanned me.” The words slipped from Tony’s lips without thinking.

Sam looked away again. He pursed his lips and Tony wanted to brush his thumb across them, remove that expression from his face. Then he swallowed hard at that thought and turned his own gaze towards the ice cream.

“Anyway, I can do that, but only if I’m in direct physical contact with the person. And of course it doesn’t work on demons or anything supernatural. I don’t like to use it on humans.”

“Unless it’ll help them.” Tony thought of the girl in Pennsylvania. Although he wasn’t sure Sam did her much of a favor, forgetting the crimes she had committed. She was still going to be liable for them.

Then it was their turn to order, so Tony got the triple chocolate special on a waffle cone, while Sam ordered boring frozen yoghurt. “Need to watch the figure, old man?” he teased, hoping Sam took it in the spirit he intended.

“You’re the one who’ll have to deal with clogged arteries if you keep eating like that.”

“I got news for you, they have pills for that now.” Tony managed to grab a two seater table out on the boardwalk just as a couple got up to leave. He slid into the seat and gestured at Sam to take the other.

For a few minutes they didn’t speak, too caught up with their respective flavors. Tony licked around the edge of the cone, catching the droplets of melting ice cream that attempted to escape. Sam furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at him, but didn’t say anything.

Tony decided it was now or never. “So, you know my dream thing. I don’t claim to know every single thing about Dean or you. But I think... We don’t know why this is happening to me, right? I’m thinking it might help to figure it all out if I knew...” he swallowed. “How did Dean die?”

***

Sam nearly dropped his cup of frozen yoghurt. The flavor had turned sour and his stomach roiled. Tony had completely changed the mood with that one question. He was looking down at the table, hiding behind his thick hair. Sam gave into the impulse, reached out and ran his fingers through the mop of hair, brushing it out of Tony’s face.

Tony looked up, and Sam couldn’t read the expression in those dark eyes. There was no denying the connection between the two of them. They worked smoothly in the shop and Sam had invited him along on the Williams hunt. But Tony wasn’t Dean, Sam had to remind himself of that. Tony just got the short end of the stick and he needed to figure out why and soon.

Sam made a mental note to get some of Bobby’s books out of storage. He was going to need them to research this. “Do you know about Dean’s deal with the crossroads demon?” he asked.

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I dreamt that last night. I saw you die last month.” His voice had gone real low, very different from the exuberant young man Sam had gotten to know this past week.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Sam whispered.

“It’s more than just seeing it,” Tony spit out angrily. “I live it. Every night. I close my eyes and I’m Dean. Just, just tell me what happened.”

“I couldn’t save Dean,” Sam’s mouth went dry and he took another mouthful of frozen yoghurt to try to help. “I couldn’t save his life and his soul. Bobby finally found a way to save his soul, but not his life.”

“How?” Tony leaned forward, eyes gleaming.

“I don’t know.”

“But you have to.” Tony looked agitated. “You know about the clause right? If Dean weaseled out of the deal, you would have died.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

Tony sat back, his waffle cone hanging forgotten in his hand. “He didn’t tell you. Of course, no way would I tell you.”

“Tony, slow down. What do you mean?”

“The deal he made. If he even tried to back out of the deal, you’d drop dead immediately.”

Sam’s thoughts whirled. Dean had never told him. Granted, Sam should have been suspicious when Dean refused to even look for a way out. God, how could he have been so stupid?

“Hey, you with me?” Tony’s hand had clamped down on his wrist, Sam still clutching his plastic spoon.

“He never told me. And I don’t know what Bobby did. They only told me that the ritual would save Dean’s soul. That they couldn’t save his life.”

“Well, why don’t we ask Bobby then?”

“Bobby’s dead.”

Tony closed his eyes. “Fuck. When?”

“About five years back. Died in his sleep -- aneurism.”

“That’s,” Tony sighed. “Well, at least he died peacefully.”

Sam looked at the hand on his wrist and Tony let go sheepishly. He picked up the container of melting yoghurt. “I have his books. Most of the good stuff is in storage, don’t want to risk losing them when I go on the move again, but I can look.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. Listen, I’m supposed to be home for dinner. Uh, I’ll meet you at the shop tomorrow? For Mrs. Williams?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.” Sam watched Tony throw what was left of his cone into the trash. He kept watching the young man walk away, down the boardwalk. Even among the crowds of people, the families with screaming children, the teenagers plastered against each other, and the young couples in love, Tony stood out. He walked alone, head straight and determined.

Sam had to figure this out.

***

“Tony?”

Tony closed the front door behind him as he walked into the living room. He checked the clock over on the mantle. Phew, he wasn’t late for dinner. “Yeah, Mom?”

She ducked her head out of the kitchen. “Brian called. I thought you stayed with him the other night?”

Crap. “Did I say Brian? I meant Tim. I stayed over at Tim’s place. What did Brian want?”

“He said to call him back, that he hasn’t heard from you in a while.” Mom frowned, wiping her hands on the dish towel she had carried. “You guys used to hang out all the time. What happened?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Brian went off to college. He’s the big man on campus. Partying, sorority houses, all that. Not my kind of thing.”

She patted his cheek with a smile. “You’re a good boy.”

“Thanks Mom, that’s just what every boy wants to hear.” He smiled at her before turning to go up the stairs.

“Dinner in ten minutes!” she shouted after him.

Tony dropped onto his bed, suddenly tired. He had started the day out at the Surf Shop, then ended up spending the afternoon working with Sam. Tomorrow he was going on his first real hunt with Sam. The thought made him feel kind of giddy, almost as if it was some kind of date.

He groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes. He was acting like he had some silly crush on Sam. Tony wanted to hang out with the guy, talk to him. Touch him. It was weird, but at the same time, it felt right.

“Tony!” Gina pounded on his door.

“I’ll be right down!” he yelled back.

She pushed open the door. “Where’ve you been? I swear I haven’t seen you in like a week.”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

Gina pounced onto his bed, sending the whole thing jiggling. “Uh, yeah, it has. You never told me, did you go see Frederick?”

Who the hell? Oh, she meant Sam. “Uh yeah.”

“And? What happened?”

Tony ran his fingers through his hair. He was going to have to explain his continued visits to Sam and he really didn’t want to explain the situation to his sister. The whole dreaming he and Sam were brothers thing could take a while. “He’s been really helpful, actually. He’s, uh, looking into things, doing some research on it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How much are you paying him?”

“Nothing,” slipped out before he could stop it.

“So what, he’s helping you out for free?” She tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. Like Tony, she tended to play with her hair when she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

“He’s a pretty cool guy, actually.” Tony decided to go for part of the truth. He really didn’t like lying to Gina.

She looked kinda shocked at his words. “Shyeah, he’s like dad’s age. What, have you been hanging out with him?”

“I just think the psychic stuff is kinda cool.”

“Don’t tell me you think you’re psychic now?”

“What would you say if I said I was?” he waggled his eyebrows at her. “I could be reading your mind right now. You have a huge crush on...Jimmy Kaplan.”

Gina gagged. “Oh my god, I was so over Jimmy by sixth grade.”

He pounced at her distraction, going for her belly with his fingers. Gina shrieked and fell off the bed giggling. “You jerk!”

He had to stop himself from saying ‘bitch!’ in return.

“Tony, Gina! Dinner!”

Tony held out a hand and helped her up, feeling out of sorts. This didn’t seem right. He missed being with Sam, and considering he hadn’t known Sam until two weeks ago, that was pretty strange. He shook his head, trying to shake Dean Winchester out. Time to go eat with his family.

***

Tony seemed pretty eager to get going, Sam thought, watching the younger man fidget outside the shop. Of course, that may just be him trying to keep warm. The weather had turned unseasonably cold and rainy for this late in August. Tony had a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up to protect himself from the spritzing rain, although he also wore shorts and flipflops.

“I bet you’re the kind of guy who wears sandals in October,” Sam said, pushing the door  open.

Tony looked at him, flushed, and then looked away. That was strange.  After his initial confession of having Dean's memories, Tony had never had any problems looking at him before.

“Um, I parked behind the boardwalk, do we want to take my car?” Tony asked, looking out at the gray ocean slamming against the dull sand.

Sam shook his head. “I need the Impala, all the stuff we’ll need is in there, and don’t take this wrong, no way any of it is going to fit in your car.”

When Tony didn’t say anything, Sam knew something was wrong. He refrained from commenting that Dean would never drive such a small car. Or an import for that matter. He wasn’t sure they were at that point where he could joke about what was happening to Tony.

His research had unearthed three possibilities. The first was that Tony was a medium, somehow channeling Dean’s spirit and gaining his memories. The second was that Dean was possessing Tony while he slept, though that was dependent on Tony having some latent psychic ability in the first place. And both needed Dean’s spirit to be free from the confines of Hell to be true. Sam wished he could confirm that, but Bobby never said afterwards whether he had been successful or not. Perhaps he didn’t know.

The last possibility, of course, and the most worrisome was that Tony was Dean reincarnated. There was a variety of literature on the subject, but as Dean would say, there were tons of stuff written about unicorns and they just didn’t exist. Sam had never encountered the phenomena before, and he couldn’t judge the situation without more research.

Tony seemed to perk up once they reached the Impala. He smoothed his hands along the dashboard, almost caressing the leather interior. A hand paused at the radio. “Music?” he asked, something catching in his voice.

Sam frowned. “There’s a box of cassette tapes at your feet.”

“What are cassette...oh, I remember, I think.” He pulled up the shoe box and flipped through the music while Sam started the car and peeled out. Mrs. Williams lived a good half hour away, a minuscule amount of time for the number of hours he’d spent on the road. But it was the first time he’d sat in the Impala with Tony.

“The engine shouldn’t sound like that,” Tony said, finally choosing a tape from the collection.  He pushed it into the tape deck.

“She needs work,” Sam admitted, “And I don’t have the knack for it.”

The sounds of AC/DC’s Back in Black emanated from the speakers and Sam had to grin. It was appropriate. He wondered if Tony remembered rebuilding the Impala after the accident, when Dean and Sam took to the road, exhilarating in the freshly rebuilt car. But then he might remember what had gone before it, the accident, Dad dying. No, Sam thought, he’d prefer if it Tony didn’t remember. But he knew he didn’t get to have a say in what Tony saw in his dreams.

“I can see about getting her converted to bioFuel,” Tony said. “There’s this guy in Baltimore who does engines for classic cars. We could take her to my dad’s garage...”

Sam flicked his gaze to the rear view mirror to watch Tony’s expression. He got more animated as he spoke. “Your dad owns a garage? And won’t that be kind of expensive?”

“I’ll look into it,” he promised. “I’ll let you know what you need. Honestly, I’ve always wanted to work on a classic car. Dad always says I need to spend more time studying than under an engine.”

“You going to school?” Sam asked. He knew so little about Tony, really.

“Community college. Start my second year after labor day. Just general ed right now, I don’t know what I want to do.” Tony dug into his pockets. “Oh, before I forget, I gotta make a call.”

“Go ahead, we’ve got a bit to go,” Sam said.

Tony pulled out his phone and hit a button. Sam tried not to be obvious about listening in.

“Tim? It’s Tony. If anyone asks, I was at your place a few nights ago.” Tony paused, looking out the window. “Well, just don’t be like Brian who calls my mom and says things like ‘oh I haven’t seen Tony in so long.’ Dumbass. No, I don’t know why he called my house line. What? That’s tonight? When’s he leaving? That soon? Sucks. Don’t know man, I have to be at work early tomorrow. No, I can’t ditch it. Fine, fine, see you later.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and hit another button.

“Trouble?” Sam asked.

Tony shrugged. “Just covering my tracks from the other night. Told my mom I was at Brian’s, only to have Brian bust me. He’s going back to college next week so they’re having a party for him tonight.”

“I guess I have to get you back in time,” Sam said, twisting his lips. It reminded him too much of when Dean came to take him from Stanford. Tony was the one with the normal life, Sam the hunter. He frowned, not liking the association, he remembered how it had ended for him, and he didn’t want to think about something like that happening to Tony.

Tony gave him a sideways look, but didn’t say anything. “I guess it depends on how long the hunt takes.”

“Guess it does,” Sam agreed.

***

Tony watched Sam pop open the trunk of the Impala. He couldn’t help the assault of memories, the many times they had done this, choosing the weapons or other tools they would need for a hunt. Usually he was the one at the helm, propping the lid open with a shotgun and going through the stuff hidden in the spare tire compartment.

Dean, Tony corrected his mental thought. Dean was the one who owned the Impala, cared for her, kept the weapons in the trunk sharp and oiled. He had to stop thinking of himself in that role.

Especially after last night. He still couldn’t meet Sam’s eyes, afraid he would flush and give everything away. Dean Winchester had had an active sex life. Some of the things Tony had dreamt had him waking hard and desperate for release. It didn’t help that when he dreamed, he was truly Dean, complete with Dean’s thoughts and fantasies.

Last night started like most others. Tony Del Toro closed his eyes, and Dean Winchester opened them to see Sam coming out of a motel shower, with only a towel slung low around his hips. Dean bitched about Sam using all the hot water, then pushed past his brother into the still steaming bathroom.

He stripped quickly, methodically. Showering was just another routine, among hundreds his dad had instilled in them both. But once he got under the water, still blissfully warm, Dean let himself drift. His hand soaped up his chest, but slid lower, taking his dick between slippery fingers. God, Sam had looked better than any man had a right to look. Dean appreciated both genders, though he was more likely to pick up a hot chick in a bar on most nights.  Sam, he was pretty sure, didn’t know. His brother might have been more careful with his casual nudity then.

Then again, probably not, because no way could Sammy know Dean was perving on his little brother. He tugged on his prick with one hand, brushing the top with his palm, encouraging it to thicken in the warm shower. He had only a few minutes before the water turned cold and he wanted to enjoy this. Dean pictured the droplets of water running down Sam’s smooth chest, lingering on a nipple. God, he wanted to drop his head down, lap at one of those nipples until they stood up in hard points. He wanted to hear Sam’s whimpered moans, feel Sam’s large hand cup him around the back of his head and push Dean down, down to where the white towel concealed Sam’s own erection.

God, the thought of Sam hard for him. Dean sped up his movements, tugging his balls with his free hand. He arched into his own touch as his orgasm rocked him, spilling onto the tile of the shower. Leaning his head against the wall, he closed his eyes, still working his spent cock. Dammit, Sam, he thought.

“Can you handle one of these?” Sam’s voice broke into Tony’s thoughts.

He jumped and turned to where Sam held out a sawed off shotgun. Blushing, he took the gun, cracked it open, deftly loaded it with rock salt shells and slid it shut.

“Guess so,” Sam said with a grin. “Drop it in the duffel, don’t want to scare Mrs. Williams just yet.”

Sam slung the bag over his shoulder and they climbed the steps to the modest looking suburban house. Mrs. Williams let them in with a smile.

Tony stood back and watched Sam work. He convinced Mrs. Williams to wait downstairs while they checked the rest of the house, and she was glad about it. Sam gave her his best smile, showing off his dimples.

Tony wasn’t Dean, he told himself, he didn’t find men attractive, he never had before. Then why was he blushing at Sam’s smile and why couldn’t he concentrate? Thoughts of Sam in the towel came to haunt him at the most ridiculous times. Maybe he could take Sam surfing, he thought, see if that physique had held up over time...

“The EMF is lighting up,” Sam said from a few feet ahead.

Tony caught himself, dammit, he was no good on a hunt if he kept getting distracted. He hurried to Sam’s side. They stood in the main hallway directly up the stairs. “Well, that’s good, right, that means something is up?”

Sam frowned down at the device. “It doesn’t feel right.”

For a second Tony thought he was talking about the EMF. Then he realized, “Oh, you mean your shining?”

“It’s creepy when you do that,” Sam snapped, opening the first door they came to.

“Try being me,” Tony murmured. Before Sam could respond, a vase filled with flowers hurled itself across the room and directly at Sam.

Sam ducked in time and the broken glass only grazed Tony’s bare feet. Mental note, he thought, no more shorts and flip flops on a hunt. No wonder Dean covered himself in a heavy leather jacket and thick boots all the time.

“Shotgun might be a good idea,” Tony hissed.

“Won’t help,” Sam said as he stepped into the room. As soon as he did, objects lifted off of the dresser and end tables, lamps floated in midair, cords waving behind them like tails.

Tony held his breath as he followed Sam into the room. His finger itched for a shotgun, anything to dispel the spirit before it attacked again. “Sam?” he whispered as the objects began to spin around the room, almost dancing.

Faster and faster the objects spun, twirling around the room in a small tornado. Tony held an arm up against the rushing wind. He threw himself to the floor as a lamp suddenly broke free from the whirlwind.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, and then called, “Enough!” Every single thing just dropped to the floor.

Tony winced at the crashing noise. He had caught Sam’s slip, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

“It’s not her father’s ghost,” Sam said, leaving the bedroom, Tony at his heels.

“How do you know?”

Sam just looked at him. “What do we know, Tony?” Hmm. Back to ‘Tony’ when he was out of danger.

“Didn’t know there was going to be a pop quiz,” Tony grumbled. He stopped to think for a moment. “She said that things usually moved around at night, and we’re here in the middle of the afternoon. Ghosts tend to keep to a pattern.”

“Good.” Sam smiled.

“Plus, nothing I can shoot,” Tony complained. “No apparition.”

Sam nodded and led the way back down the stairs. “Mrs. Williams, your deceased father is not haunting you.”

She stood from the armchair, her hands clasped together. “But the noises, the things moving...”

“What you’ve got is a poltergeist. Not a particularly bad one, thank goodness.” Sam swerved to avoid the picture frame that came hurtling across the room and nearly decked him in the head. “Unfortunately these things tend to be drawn to me.”

“Psychic thing,” Tony said in explanation.

“But we can get rid of it. I just need some herbs from my shop and we can come back later to finish up here. The thing shouldn’t bother you again.” Sam flashed his famous smile.

So much for everything they needed being in the Impala.

***

“You called me Dean,” Tony said quietly when they were back in the car heading towards the boardwalk.

He noticed Sam clenching the wheel tighter. “I’m sorry.”

Tony shook his head. “Don’t be. Just...why?”

“I guess it felt familiar,” Sam said. “Hunting with someone else.”

“You haven’t hunted with anyone else since he died?”

“I’ve worked with other hunters,” Sam explained. “But that’s not the same thing.”

“No,” Tony agreed, shifting through memories in his mind. There were so many now that he had to work to consider them. Over and over he had images of Sam at his side, covering his back, in danger, or saving his ass. They worked together as the perfect team.

“Dammit,” Sam swore, “I need gas.”

They had to take a detour to one of the few stations that still had traditional gasoline. Sam paled at the price, grumbling under his breath as he pulled out the bills. After they left the station behind, Tony asked why Sam didn’t just use one of his credit cards.

“Can’t scam close to home. Cash from the shop usually covers food and rent. I’ve been able to use the cards when I’m off on a hunt.”

“Reconsidering my offer to convert the car?”

“Maybe.” Sam threw him a grin.

They pulled into a spot near the boardwalk. Sam plunked a couple of quarters into the meter and led the way to a set of wooden stairs.

“Aren’t we going back to the shop?” Tony asked.

“Shop’s on the other side. I live in the apartment above it.”

Now that Sam pointed it out, Tony realized they were on the other side of the boardwalk from the psychic shop. He never noticed the apartments on this side of the building however. “You’re taking me to your apartment?”

“The herbs I need I keep up there.”

“Like the ones we used in Lawrence?”

Sam paused, his key palmed in one large hand. “You remember that, then?”

“I remember they didn’t work so well.”

“I’ve modified the recipe a bit.” Sam pushed the door open and stepped inside, Tony following at his heels.

Honestly he looked forward to seeing what Sam’s apartment looked like. He wanted another picture of how the other man lived, what personal objects he kept around. Tony wasn’t expecting animal skulls and potions, but he was disappointed to find a barely furnished studio with nothing more than a table and some chairs in the kitchenette, a battered couch and a tiny TV in the main living area. A double bed was tucked into the corner, bedclothes bunched up at the end.

Tony only noticed the shadow of another person in the room when Sam tensed. He turned to meet the gaze of a woman standing behind the door. She had a glock out and pointed straight at Tony. He reached behind himself before he remembered that he normally did not keep a gun tucked in the back of his pants.

Then he recognized her. It took him a second, she had aged a lot since he’d last seen her. She’d been only a girl then really. Now he was faced with a woman, with a hard face, blond hair pulled back, making her features harsher than they should have been. She looked quite a bit like her mom.

“Jo Harvelle?” He blurted.

She frowned at him. “Jo West.”

“Traded up for the cooler name?” he asked confused.

“She got married, dumbass,” Sam snorted. “Jo, what are you doing here?”

“Somebody forgot to call me when he got home safely.”

“You couldn’t have just called? Jo, put the gun away. This is Tony.”

Tony held up his hands and tried to look non-threatening. He smiled, but Jo only scowled at him.

“Right, Tony. Sam’s never mentioned you.”

“At least you’re not pointing a shotgun at me this time,” Tony said absently.

Jo dropped the gun. “Excuse me?”

Shit, didn’t quite meant to drop it on her like that.

***

Sam rolled his eyes. He probably shouldn’t have expected anything better, although Tony had been better about hiding the truth from Sam when they first met. Jo was the first person from their past that Tony had encountered, and now that he was embracing his Dean-memories, he probably had lost the knack of hiding things.

Or maybe Tony was channeling Dean’s crush on Jo, or whatever that little bit of tension between the two of them was. Sam never knew if anything had happened between them, though he was willing to bet nothing had. He had never asked Jo after Dean’s death and she had never volunteered the information. Sam would ask Tony about it later, but he found he didn’t want to hear the answer.

He didn’t want to think of Tony with Jo, or anyone else for that matter. Sam blinked at the sudden thought. Oh, he thought. Oh, that was bad. He hadn’t indulged in his attraction for another man since college, hadn’t wanted anyone else like that, except for Dean. Now Tony, with the golden skin and brilliant smile, had stirred something inside, something he’d thought long since lost.

“It’s a long story,”

Jo tucked her glock into her jacket. “I’m used to long stories.”

Sam opened his mouth to explain, then clicked it shut. How did he put this exactly? He had accepted the situation, Tony had proved himself over and again, pulling out something that only Dean could know. Jo didn’t have that experience.

Tony fortunately took the lead. “I apparently have Dean Winchester living in my brain.”

“Excuse me?” Jo blinked.

“For the past six months I’ve been dreaming his life. Then I met Sam and found out the dreams were real.”

Jo pulled out one of the chairs and plunked down onto it. “You got any whiskey in those cabinets, Sam?”

“Just some beer in the fridge.” Sam shrugged apologetically.

Tony leaned on the back of the couch, crossing his legs out in front of him. He continued to study Jo.

“You got any proof, kid?” She kept her gaze on Tony, meeting his eyes. He didn’t flinch from her at all.

He shrugged. “I can tell you how you first met Dean. Held a shotgun to his back. Then when he turned it around on you, you gave it to him right in the nose.”

“Sam could have told you that,” she snapped. “Hell, you could have gotten that from anywhere.”

“What do you want from me?” he asked, face flushing. Sam figured he had done Tony a disservice by believing him so readily.

“Tell me something Sam doesn’t know, can’t know.”

Tony frowned. He looked away, his voice distant as he spoke. “When Sam was possessed and shot me...”

Sam twitched at the pronoun. Tony rarely referring to himself as Dean, usually he spoke of the memories as if they happened to someone else.

“You asked me if demons always lie.” Tony continued, his voice still sounding strained. “If they ever tell the truth. I told you they sometimes do, to mess with your head...”

Tony turned back to look at them and Sam gasped. Tony’s eyes were a gleaming green, bright in the dim light of the apartment. Then he blinked and they were back to his normal brown.

Tony sprang up from the couch. “I just, let me grab some air.” Then he was out the door and out of the apartment.

Sam watched him go and jumped as Jo punched his arm, hard. “What was that for?”

“Sam Winchester, what the hell do you think you’re playing with?” Jo snapped.

Sam rubbed his arm and looked away. “I’ve done some research, there are a few possibilities I’m looking into.”

“Right, I know you. Have you even considered this is a demon trick?”

“He’s not a demon. He could be a medium, somehow picking up on Dean’s soul...”

“Sam, Dean’s in hell.”

Sam swallowed hard. He stalked over to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He needed the fortitude. “Bobby saved him.”

“You were the one who thought Bobby and Dean only made that whole thing up just to make you feel better about the deal.”

Sam slammed the bottle on the table. “He knows things, Jo. He knows things only Dean would know. Memories from when we were kids. Stuff about my dad. How can he know this stuff?”

“Demons read minds, you know that. And if Dean’s...”

“Stop,” he didn’t want her to mention it again. Just the thought of Dean suffering in hell, being tormented by demons made his skin crawl. He couldn’t deal with it, not when now he had proof that Dean might not be in hell.

“Sam, please, I’m just asking you to have a lick of sense here.”

“Like you did, traveling all the way out here to check on me?”

“You didn’t call. For all I knew you were possessed again. And now I’m not sure what’s going on with you. Sam, that boy is not your brother.”

“I know that!” Sam shouted. The beer bottle flew off the table and crashed into the opposite wall, a dark stain spreading across the paint. Damn it, he hated when he lost control like that.

The door swung back open and Tony poked his head in, apparently having cleared it sufficiently. He eyed the mess and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Christo,” Jo snapped out.

Tony laughed. He pointed to the door to the flat welcome mat in front of it. “If I know Sam, there’s a salt line under there.” He hopped over it, then back again. “Demons can’t cross salt. They can’t touch holy objects.” Tony reached into his sweatshirt and pulled out a gold crucifix. “And if you knew how much holy water my mom keeps around the house, you wouldn’t even question me, lady.”

“Then what the hell are you?” she demanded.

“You’re the ones who’re the experts in the goddamn supernatural, you tell me!” he snapped. “I didn’t ask for this.”

Tony was back through the door again and Sam followed him out onto the wooden porch. He grabbed Tony’s arm to stop him from going.

“Tony.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony’s voice was muffled.

“Look,” Sam said finally. “Go hang out with your friends tonight, that party you mentioned?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t look at Sam.

“I’ll finish up for Mrs. Williams. You can come by the shop tomorrow after work...”

“Sammy,” Tony breathed, the first time he had ever called Sam by that name and Sam held his breath. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Sam moved his hand to Tony’s shoulder which he squeezed gently. “I’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Tony shrugged him off and walked down the stairs. He never looked back.

***

“So what do you guys want to do?” Tim threw himself on Brian’s parents’ couch, his feet up on the coffee table. He had a capped beer in one hand, and his free arm slung over Debbie who already curled on the couch with her own drink.

Tony sprawled over the floor, his head propped up by his folded arms. Brian’s parents were out for the night, which was why they had the luxury of hanging out here, instead of taking their beer into the woods outside of town like they normally did. A few more years and they could go to bars like adults.

He remembered being able to fool bartenders at the age of 16. Although that wasn’t his life and Tony had decided he wasn’t going to think about that tonight. Tonight was about sending Brian back off to his dorm in style.

“We could go to the boardwalk,” Debbie suggested.

“If we want to get busted for underage drinking.” Brian stood near the mini-fridge, trying to decide what to make.

“We could go to Delilah’s Den,” Tim suggested, talking a long drink of his beer.

“Um, hello, if I’m going to a strip club, there had better be naked men there,” Lila chirped from the pool table in the corner of the basement. She had racked up the balls and Tony was fighting the urge to go over there and show her how it was done.

“C’mon guys, we have to do something special. This’ll be the last time we’re all together until winter break,” Brian whined.

“Nobody told you all to go away to school,” Tony griped from the floor.

Tim poked him with his foot. “You’re the one who’s been busy all summer. What was up with me covering for your lazy ass?”

Tony moved away from the prodding. “I didn’t want my parents to know where I was.” How was he going to explain demon hunting?

“Why, you finally getting laid, Tone?” Brian finally picked a Corona out of the fridge, along with a slice of lime. Only Brian would have that kind of thing -- actually it would be his parents who stocked the fridge.

Tony sat up and picked up his forgotten beer. “Maybe,” he said, because that was better than the truth.

“Anyone we know?” Debbie leaned forward, eager for the gossip.

“Nobody from his half-assed town,” there, Tony thought, that was a bit of truth. Sam wasn’t from Oceanville, and though their activities were about as far from getting laid as you could, Tony felt confident in playing with the truth.

“Bet he’s getting it on with a benny,” Lila said, “Some nice touristy girl who’ll be gone by the end of summer.”

Tony ripped at the label on his beer. Would Sam be gone by the end of summer? He had said he rarely stayed in one place for long. After all he knew from Dean’s life, Tony should have been surprised that Sam had hung around this long. Why? He should have asked. He didn’t even know...

“Hey, Tony, you with us, man?” Brian’s voice cut into his thoughts.

Damn it, he swore he wasn’t going to dwell on Dean’s life tonight.

But Sam wasn’t just part of Dean’s life anymore, he was part of Tony’s too.

“Yeah.” Tony stood up and walked over to the pool table. “Let’s do something nuts, like go skinny dipping in the ocean or something.”

“At one a.m.?” Debbie asked.

“Best time!” Tim shouted.

“Great idea,” Brian slapped Tony on the back. “Trust my man Tony to come up with all the best ideas.”

“We’re sending you off in style, Bri.” Tim grabbed some extra beer from the fridge.

Tony drained his own beverage. He was going to enjoy tonight.

***

The end of summer brought the bulk of the tourists, trying to hold onto that last bit of the warm weather. Sam didn’t know how visiting a boardwalk psychic helped with that, but it paid the bills. He’d rather they spend the money on his rather honest assessments than on the freaky clown booth next door.

“You’re getting a reputation Sam,” Jo had lectured him yesterday. “People are starting to think you’re real. You can’t stay here much longer.”

He couldn’t. He had dreamed of being something like the roadhouse, a place where hunters could go for information if they needed it. But he couldn’t afford to attract attention. There were still too many people out there who wanted to get a piece of Sam Winchester, especially after it became public knowledge that Dean was dead.

Sam frowned at the tarot reading he currently laid out, much to the concern of his client. “Oh, no,” he said at her look, “that means change...” The motion chime alerted him to a new customer. “Just one second, I’ll tell them to have a seat.”

He poked his head out of the booth pleased to see Tony standing there. He didn’t look good, in fact he wore the same clothes as yesterday and his eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses.

“Long night?” Sam said.

“Ugh, I didn’t even go home, I went straight to work.” Tony tore off the glasses revealing bloodshot eyes rimmed in dark circles.

“Must have been fun then,” Sam laughed. He pulled his apartment keys out of his back pocket. “Why don’t you go upstairs and sleep it off? I’ll  wake you when I close for the night.”

“Oh God, thank you.” Tony snatched the keys.

Sam showed him the entrance behind the stock room, then went back to his client. Tony had come back. He couldn’t stop grinning. His client grinned back at him. “Now this card,” Sam pointed, “represents love of someone close to you...”

Much later he did his last palm reading for the night and closed up shop. The boardwalk still thrummed with activity. Children ran past his shop, clutching cotton candy and stuffed animals. The attendant at the creepy clown booth handed out another giant panda bear. But the arcades were sweeping up and the Chinese massage parlor had long closed its doors.

Sam looked out at the ocean, marveling at how far the sky seemed to stretch at night. The waves shivered like satin, barely visible in the pervasive blackness. He stood on the very edge of the country, wind tossing his hair into his eyes. Sam smiled and went back inside, turning the bolt to lock the door. Time to go upstairs.

Tony had curled up on Sam’s bed, his sandals and sweatshirt discarded on the floor next to him. His dark hair was mussed and stuck up in weird patterns. Sam resisted the urge to smooth it down.

He debated the likelihood of the comfortableness of the couch, since it didn’t look like Tony was waking up any time soon. And he had looked so exhausted, Sam didn’t want to wake him.

Then a muffled song began to play from the confines of Tony’s sweatshirt. Sam dug through the pockets, pulling out the tiny phone. “Mom” stood out in sharp letters on the display.

Sam set it on the end table where it continued to thrum the last few notes of the song. He sat on the edge of the bed and shook Tony gently. It was only then that he noticed the tears streaming down Tony’s face.

“Hey,” Sam said, “C’mon, wake up.”

First Tony curled away from Sam, as if trying to get away from his touch. Then he woke all at once, eyes wide at the sight of Sam sitting near him. The eyes were green.

“Sam!” Tony cried, throwing his arms around Sam and clutching the other man tight. His fingers dug into Sam’s back, tear-stained face buried into his shoulder. “You’re alive. God, Sam.”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam lifted a hand to give into temptation and run his fingers through Tony’s thick hair. “Tony?”

Tony pushed away and gave Sam a funny look. “You need glasses or something?” he stood and looked around the apartment. “How did we get here? Where’s Bobby?”

A sliver of cold ran down Sam’s back. He whispered, “Dean?”

Tony turned, eyes still burning green. “Yeah? Sam? What happened to the cabin...How...” Then Tony was scrambling behind Sam, lifting up his shirt and running his fingers up along Sam’s spine, stopping at the scar midway up his back.

Oh, Sam thought, oh god, he knew what this was, when this was. “Dean. What do you remember?”

Dean looked around the apartment, then down at himself. “Why am I dressed like this?” he turned to Sam, “Sammy, you’ve got gray hair...Sam, what the hell happened?”

Sam took a deep breath, then stalked to the opposite side of the room. He raised his hands and cupped Tony’s face between them, thumbs caressing his cheeks gently. “Dean. It’s so good to talk to you.”

Tony - Dean!- batted Sam’s hands away. “What’s going on Sammy? Did the Impala turn into a DeLorean or something?”

Sam smiled. “Not exactly.”

Dean frowned at him. He still seemed confused. It was still Tony’s voice, Tony’s body, but the movements were all Dean. He searched the apartment, nodding approval at the salt on the windowsills, the shotgun under the bed. Then he stopped at the door to the bathroom.

“Dean, don’t,” Sam whispered, because he knew.

Dean looked at himself in the mirror. When he turned back towards Sam, his eyes were brown.

“Oh, God.” Tony gasped, tripping as he backed away from the bathroom

“Tony,” Sam caught the man’s arms to keep him from falling. “Calm down...”

“Calm down? It’s never happened while I was awake before. Sam, please. You have to help me.” He turned in Sam’s grasp, so they were face to face. His eyes filled, but no more tears stained his cheeks.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment. He let Tony embrace him again, holding the shaking man in the shelter of his arms. Tony even felt different than Dean had, only moments before. “We have to find out what spell Bobby used,” he said finally, to try to get Tony’s mind off of it.

Tony pulled away and stalked over to the bed. He retrieved his sweatshirt and tugged it over his head. “How the hell are we going to do that?”

“I have his books. Tomorrow I’ll drive out to one of my storage centers and pick up the most likely candidates. He had to have gotten it from his own library.”

“And if he didn’t?” Tony narrowed his gaze on Sam.

Sam sighed. “The only other person who knew was Dean. So we can try to guide your dreams. See if you can force yourself to remember that night.”

“And what if I wake up Dean again?” Tony whispered. “What if I can’t come back?

“I don’t know,” Sam said finally. It was all he could say.


Part 3


Tony’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel of the Impala. The leather had worn away in strategic places, scraping his skin as he pulled and turned the wheel. He had the radio on, not wanting to face one of Dean’s cassettes, set to a classic station and one of his favorite Green Day songs blasted out of the speakers.

Sam had finally threw up his hands in exasperation and let Tony take the car to Dad’s garage. They had spent weeks knocking heads over Bobby’s books. Labor day came and went, closing the gates on the tourist season for the year. Ted’s Surf Shop closed down and college started up again. Tony called it thirteenth grade when he brought his books to Sam’s place to get some studying done. Sam just raised an eyebrow and went back to paging through one of Bobby’s books.

They’d had their first big fight shortly after Sam went to retrieve the first trunk full of books. The dreams had gotten bad after that, full of blood and possession, images from the last demon/human war Dean had fought in. Tony had taken to locking his bedroom door at night, to stop Gina or Rosa from coming in at the wrong moment.

He had finally tried sleeping at Sam’s whenever he could, brought his sleeping bag and camped out in the living room in front of the TV. One night he was propped up against the couch, math textbook open on his lap watching Sam page through a large leather bound tome.

“You said you were only taking the most likely books.” Tony slammed the math book shut. He couldn’t deal with numbers at the moment.

“Bobby had a shitload of books,” Sam said, sitting back and rubbing his eyes. “I grabbed all the spell books and anything that might have information on dreams, visions or reincarnation. There’s no catalog to his stuff. I just have to keep going through it until I find it.”

“I can’t believe you have no idea what it was,” Tony snapped. “How long have you been doing this? Can’t you use your psychic powers to figure it out?’

Sam pushed the book away from himself angrily. “Oh while we’re on the subject of that, how about working on that guided dream thing. That’ll be a hell of a lot faster than me doing this. Oh, that’s right, you don’t want to do that.”

Tony sprang to his feet bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I think you want Dean to wake up permanently. You want your brother back.”

“Dammit, Tony.” The book lifted off the table and hovered a few feet above it. “I love my brother. Of course I want him back.” Sam put his hand on the book and it floated back down to the table. “But you’re not my brother, Tony. Dean is dead.”

Tony turned away, his mouth dry. He knew what it cost Sam to say that.

“Do you really think I’d let you turn into someone else without a fight? Do you think that little of me?”

“No,” Tony choked out.

“Besides,” Sam said, coming up behind him to place a warm hand on his shoulder. “You’ve kinda grown on me.”

“Like a hemorrhoid,” Tony laughed. He leaned back into Sam’s touch, wanting more of it.

But Sam drew away.

Tony swung the Impala into the driveway of his Dad’s shop, driving under the sign that proclaimed “Del Toro and son” though the son in question was his Dad. Tony was supposed to be making something of himself at school. He didn’t know why helping to run the family business wasn’t good enough for his dad.

He parked the Impala over to the side and slid out. He heard a whistle behind him and turned to smile at Jamal.

“Your dad finally let you get that ride?” Jamal came over to appreciate the car.

Tony shook his head. “It’s for a friend. He needs the engine converted.”

“This thing still on gas?” Jamal balked. “That’s a crime.”

“Not for long. You want to help me with it?”

Jamal crossed his arms across his chest. He was a large man, resembling nothing so much as a barrel. The work suit only emphasized this, with its long shapeless form and single color. Jamal grinned, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll help if you can work on it without your old man screaming the place down.”

“It’s business,” Tony said. “The guy gave me his credit card. Money is no object.” Well, that wasn’t precisely true. Tony had indulged in a bit of credit card fraud, guided by Dean’s memories with a dash of his own technical know how. He couldn’t afford to get caught. And he didn’t want to tell Sam, instead just explaining it all away as something that Tony would be happy to do.

“Pop the hood, junior, let’s see what we have to work with.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.” Tony popped the hood and joined Jamal to stare at the engine. It wasn’t original to the car, he knew. Most of her had been replaced after the wreck in 2006. He frowned, trying to push those memories as far back as he could. He was getting better at it, at picking out what bits of information he needed and discarding what he didn’t.

“Anthony, what the hell is this?” his dad’s voice carried across the garage.

Tony winced. Dad only used his full name when he was pissed. Jamal threw him a knowing grin. “I didn’t buy a car, Dad,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s a job, for a friend of mine. I told him you could take care of it.”

“What friend?” Dad came around to join them staring at the engine. Tony held his tongue, waiting for his dad to start poking at the interior. He grunted. “Still on gasoline? We’re going to need to replace the whole damn engine.”

“There’s a guy in Maryland,” Tony began. “He does replica engines for classic cars. I can order the parts from him online.”

Dad sighed. “You really want to work on this, kid?”

Tony nodded. “I’ll do it after school. It won’t interfere with my studying, I promise.”

“Or hanging out with this mysterious friend?” his dad raised an eyebrow.

Tony flushed and turned back to the car. He didn’t want to lie, but he couldn’t explain his relationship with Sam, not yet. There was something between them, fragile, a friendship that began because of Dean’s memories, but Tony hoped, he hoped for more. “Dad, I’m not a kid anymore.”

His dad thumped him on the back. “I know, Tony. C’mon, we’d better start figuring out what parts we’re going to need.”

***

“I think I found a job.”

Sam looked up from the counter, one of Bobby’s books tucked safely between his arms resting on the counter’s surface. Not a single customer had frequented the shop all day and rather than waste time, he kept up his search. “Uh, congrats?”

Tony waved a newspaper from the doorway. “Not that kind of a job. A hunt, Sam.” He tossed the paper at Sam.

“Suspicious deaths at popular bed and breakfast,” he read the headline. He skimmed the article for a second, then looked up at Tony’s eager face. “You want us to investigate.”

“Duh.” Tony snagged the spare chair and plopped down into it. “It’s only in Cape May. That’s like a hour from here.”

He’d gone farther for less. Sam tapped the spell book. “What about my research?”

Tony rubbed his palms on his jeans. “You’ve been working really hard, and I want you to know I appreciate that.” He kept his gaze trained on the floor.

“I thought working on the car was thanks for that.” Sam couldn’t help the smile.

Tony laughed. He seemed to be in a better mood. Sam guessed the dreams had been good ones this week. After all this time, Tony deserved to see some of the happier times in Dean’s life.

Though Sam knew Dean had been his happiest in the middle of a hunt, with the exhilaration of fighting the bad guys, saving people, hunting things. Sam squinted, trying to see from this distance if Tony’s eyes were green or brown.

“You want to go?” Sam asked, trying to feel him out.

Tony stood and began to pace. “Is that so wrong? The last couple of times, I mean, it was awesome.” He stopped at the curtain, fingering the soft velvet between his fingers. “Before the dreams started...”

Sam waited.

“I mean, I always liked classic cars. And classic rock. Just like Dean.”

“Not exactly like Dean...” Sam murmured.

Tony ignored him. “Maybe there’s something about me that’s always been a little bit like Dean. I want to do this Sam, I want to make sure nobody else gets hurt. I want to save people.”

Sam’s chest hurt suddenly, like he couldn’t get in enough air. Tony was like Dean, he thought. He stared at Tony, taking in the younger man’s earnest face, his open, clear brown eyes. He wanted to reach out and touch him, take him in his arms. And then what?

Tony wasn’t Dean. They shared some of the same qualities, yes.  But Tony had a family and a life. He shouldn’t be worrying about hunting and saving people. That was for those too damaged to function in the light. Only the shadows for people hurt like that, like Sam. Sam didn’t want to drag Tony into that darkness. But he found he didn’t want to stay there alone, either.

“Only problem I see is that the Impala is currently in the shop.” Sam tried not to notice how thick his voice sounded. “And we’re going to take your tiny-ass car. How the hell are we going to fit the shovels in there?”

Tony grinned. “The trunk is larger than it looks.”

“When do we leave?” Sam asked, already running mental tallies in his head. He needed to close up the shop and put up a sign. Oh, and Mrs. Jenkins needed to be called about her possessed cat. Well, the cat probably wasn’t really possessed, though Sam had seriously entertained the thought after meeting the feline in question.

“I don’t have any classes tomorrow, and I have Monday off for Columbus Day. We could make a weekend of it. It’s the perfect excuse to get a room at the bed and breakfast.”

“Let me guess, you’ve already made the reservations.”

Tony held up two fingers. “Two queens,” he said.

Dammit Dean, Sam thought fondly. For once you couldn’t have gone with the king?

***


“Ok,” Tony said from the passenger seat of his own car, “This is what I’ve managed to dig up.”  He had given up the privilege of driving in order to brief Sam on the way down the parkway.

October had blown in chilly and remembering the lessons from his last hunt, Tony showed up at Sam’s place in jeans, wearing hiking boots and a thick jacket. Sam had grinned and told Tony he missed the flipflops. Tony hoped he didn’t notice the blush that rose at that comment.

“The Whale’s Tavern is a popular place right on the water. It has a dock that circles the place. In the past two months, four different customers of the B and B threw themselves off the dock into the water.”

“Did they all die?” Sam asked.

“Except for the latest victim. She’s in a hospital not too far from the town, but she’s in a coma. We could stop there if you think it’s important.”

Sam shook his head, still keeping his eyes on the road. “We’ll keep it in mind if nothing else comes up. Do you have any information on the bed and breakfast?”

“Do you know how many stories about hauntings there are in Cape May?” Tony grumbled, flipping through his papers. “Every other hotel has their own resident ghost. There’s even a goddamn walking tour that takes people around to see these places.”

“What have you found on our hotel?”

“Absolutely nothing. No reports of any hauntings. It was a private residence until 1950, when the Whittaker family sold it. It was divided into rooms and opened as a hotel in 1953. Was sold again in 2001.” Tony flipped through the pages. “Leslie Monroe and her daughter run it now.”

“What do you have on our victims?”

Tony dug around looking for the obituaries he had printed off that morning. “First one was Alex McMasters. War veteran, grandfather, traveling with his second wife. Second was Doris Claybourne, corporate attorney, there with her best friend. Third was Harry Gonzalez, factory worker, traveling with his wife. Last one is the girl in the hospital, Beverly Vassar. She’s only 17. The others were all over 50.”

“All tourists. No locals?”

“Nope.”

“Mark it down, that’s a pattern.”

“Yessir.” Tony winced as he said it and he noticed Sam wincing too. “Sorry.”

“You did a good job, Tony. You pulled a lot of information together quickly.”

Tony shrugged. It had been easy enough, once he knew what he was looking for. Easy to find strange patterns in what were ordinary deaths to the average person.

They rolled into the town shortly after noon. Sam drove expertly through the narrow streets, past the colorful old Victorian homes, towards the beach and the Whale’s Tavern. More people walked the streets than Tony had expected and he all but gaped at the people in traditional Victorian clothing.

“You ever been here before?” Sam asked, pulling into the tiny parking lot.

“When I was a kid. You?”

“A haunting a few years back. Was Victorian Week then too. Tends to bring out the spirits for some reason. I think it’s all the people looking for them.”

“They want to be noticed, I guess.” Tony got out of the car, moving to the trunk to get his duffel. They had managed to fit the shovels in the trunk, but just barely, with one of the back seats pushed down to make rooms. Sam had hidden the shot guns and other weapons in their own bag. This car didn’t have a storage compartment to hide them from prying eyes.

Tony led the way inside and greeted the tired looking woman behind the counter. “Uh, hi. I requested a reservation for this weekend?” Tony slid one of his fake credit cards across the counter towards her, hoping Sam wouldn’t notice.

She smiled. “Oh, yes, I remember you. You were lucky that we had a cancellation at the last minute.”

Tony grinned. “Very lucky. Didn’t want to miss, ah, Victorian Week.”

“It’s the best time to see the town really. Weather isn’t too warm, the crowds aren’t that bad.” She nodded at Sam who stood at Tony’s shoulder. “You traveling with your father?”

Tony choked and ended up coughing, Sam pounding on his back until he could gasp air again. “Uh, no, he’s...”

“We’re cousins,” Sam said smoothly. “My parents had kids early, that’s all. We’re both big fans of this town, so we decided to come down together.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” She had taken Tony’s card and swiped it through the register.

Tony could feel his ears burning with embarrassment. Sam wasn’t that old, really. And they looked nothing alike. How could she think he was Tony’s dad?

He ranted about it when they got up to their room, a tiny thing at the back of the hallway at the top of the stairs. It didn’t even overlook the ocean, although the view of the street was just as nice.

“Tony,” Sam said, sitting on the bed and digging through the weapons bag. “How old do you think I am?”

Tony shrugged. He hadn’t thought about it really. “Don’t know.”

“I’m 45.”

“My dad’s 50,” he said helpfully.

“Thanks,” Sam pulled out a worn looking leather book from the bag. “Dean died 20 years ago.”

“I’m nineteen,” Tony said. Strange that he’d never said it before. “I turn twenty in March.” He sat next to Sam on the bed. “Is that your dad’s journal?”

“Yeah,” Sam thumbed through the yellowing pages. “I have most of the information saved in other places, but I still like paging through it. It’s kinda comforting.”

“May I see it?” Tony asked.

Sam gave him a measured look. “I searched through it Tony, there’s nothing in it about your situation.”

“I just want to...” Tony didn’t know how to explain. Seeing Dean’s father’s journal would make things more real somehow.

Sam handed it over.

Tony just held it in his hands for a moment, feeling the weight of it. Then he opened it, seeing the familiar handwriting. Dad, he thought, feeling the loss as if it were his own. Why did you do it? he thought, running his fingers down one page, as if he could feel the indentations of ink through his skin. Tony paged through it, noting entries he remembered reading and those he didn’t. At the back he found the photographs. He smiled at the one of Sam and Dean as children, sitting with Dad on the hood of the Impala. His smile faded at the one of Dean alone. He didn’t remember it being in the journal before, Sam must have put it there.

Sam’s hand closed over his wrist. “You don’t look like him.”

Except when I go nuts and my eyes change color, Tony thought. “You miss him.”

Sam took the photograph and tucked it safely back into the journal. He didn’t need to answer. Tony heard him loud and clear.

I want to be him for you, Sam, he thought. I want you to need me like you need him. I want you to want me with you, at your side. Me and you against the world. But how much of that was Tony and how much was the part of Dean that always lived inside of him? He couldn’t tell, not anymore.

“C’mon.” Sam took the journal out of his hands and put it away. “We need to salt and ward this room, then start interviewing people. And try to get to the library before it closes. We don’t have time to sit around and enjoy the room.”

Tony bounced back onto the squeaky mattress. “High quality accommodations here.”

Sam laughed, his mouth tight and his eyes dark. But still, he laughed.

***

It turned out to be too late in the day to do more than ward the room and take a quick spin to the library to look for any newspaper articles about the hotel. Sam found that Tony’s original assessment was correct, they had found the one bed and breakfast in all of Cape May that didn’t have a single ghost story attached to it. No pirates, no war heroes, no nannies hiding out in bedrooms setting cradles rocking.

When they went back to the place for the evening, the girl at the counter told them that her mother, the owner, would be there tomorrow morning. Sam made a mental note to speak with her, then they settled in for the night.

Despite the lumpiness of the bed, Sam slept soundly, without any nightmares, visions or odd feelings. Even Tony seemed to wake refreshed, and not plagued by any of Dean’s dreams.

“They start breakfast at eight.” Tony dug into his duffel. “Want to run the EMF along the dock before any of the guests are up?”

The dock was more like a long deck that circled the Bed and Breakfast, with a rickety looking guardrail along its length. Tony shook one of the railings. “Are they sure the guests just didn’t fall over?”

Sam walked the length of the deck, following the path out over the ocean. The EMF lit up in his hand. “Pretty sure.”

Tony joined him, resting his hands on the worn wood. “Huh. It’s pretty.”

Sam looked out over the sun-kissed ocean, the blue-green water sparkling in the morning light. The wind blasting him smelled strongly of salt air.  He pulled his jacket closed. “But deadly.”

Tony jostled him. “You sure know how to kill a mood. C’mon, let’s grab some food before we have to act polite around the other guests.” He turned and walked back along the dock and Sam watched him for a long moment before following.

By the time they made it to the communal dining room, several guests already had seats and were talking excitedly. Sam slid next to an elderly woman who poured him a cup of tea before he could refuse. Tony sat on his other side, across from a family with young children.

“Did you hear?” the man on Tony’s left said. “About the poor girl?”

“Uh, who jumped off the dock?” Tony asked. Sam tilted his head to hear better.

“She’s come out of her coma!”

The whispers and chattering continued. Sam noticed the newspaper on the table and asked for the man across from him to pass it over. “Looks like she woke up yesterday.”

Tony took the paper out of his hand. “We should have...”

Sam nudged Tony’s leg with his knee. Not in front of the other guests. Tony nodded and moved to take a muffin from the platter on the table.

An older woman appeared with a tray filled with warm pancakes. Sam’s mouth watered from the rich scent. “Come now, who wants my famous buttermilk pancakes?”

At her appearance the chatter quieted down. While she served, she introduced herself to Sam and Tony, the newest guests. This was the owner, Leslie Monroe. She didn’t want to talk about the girl or the recent tragedies. In fact, she changed the subject when the other guests asked about it, instead giving a listing of upcoming events for the tourists to attend, including the famous haunted walk tour that evening.

After breakfast, Tony pulled Sam aside. “We should go to the hospital and talk to that girl.”

“I want to talk to the owner. She might be tight lipped for a reason.” Sam frowned.

“Okay, I’ll meet you back here later then.”

“Are you sure?”

Tony sighed. “I can handle it Sam.” He tapped the side of his head. “Got it all up here.”

Sam nodded and let him go. It would probably be safer for Tony to be away from the Whale’s Tavern. He made the wise decision not to say that out loud. Instead he took his time with the owner of the bed and breakfast. He ended up helping her with some chores around the place and had her eating out of the palm of his hand. So when he finally asked about the accidents, she didn’t bite his head off completely.

“It’s a load of nonsense,” she said, snapping the side of the sheet she was folding. Sam held the other end. “I’ve had twelve cancellations. All sorts of rumors are starting up. And it’s not even the kind that will get me more guests.”

“Ghosts seem to be popular in this town,” Sam said with a smile. “You’ve never...seen anything like that?”

She gave him a funny look. “You’re not one of those freaks with the tape recorders are you?”

“No ma’am,” Sam smiled his most innocent smile. “I’m just curious why four people would choose the same place to commit suicide.”

She shrugged, taking the folded sheet from his hands. “It started on 9/11. Happened nearly thirty years ago now and it’s still hard on folks. Especially with that new monument in the center of town.”

Sam’s ears perked up. “Monument?”

“A memorial. They just dedicated it last month.”

When the accidents began. “Where is this monument?”

A few hours later he walked to the center of town, to the monument with the marble plaque listing the names of those lost. He pulled the EMF out of his pocket, but nothing registered. This had to be it, there had to be a connection somewhere. He scanned the list of names. No Monroes.

Wait, didn’t Tony say the bed and breakfast was sold in 2001? Sam needed to get back to his notes and then maybe the library. He was so close he could smell it.

***

Tony didn’t expect to feel guilty after he left the bedside of Beverly Vassar. He was trying to save people dammit. But he couldn’t help but feel dirty after tricking a teenage girl into thinking he was a cop. Especially a sick girl who had just woken from a coma.

He wasn’t even sure what good the information he found would do. Beverly had admitted to being depressed after breaking up with her boyfriend. She said she didn’t remember the night she went over the railing of the dock. Only that she felt at peace when she went to sleep that night.

Tony pulled the car over to the side of the highway, wanting to check out something before it left his mind. He pulled out the obituary of the first victim. Alex McMasters had just lost his son. The second victim had lost her husband a year ago. He couldn’t find any other information about the third guy, but that was a pattern. All the victims had lost someone they loved, pretty recently.

That still didn’t mean it was a spirit, now that he thought about it. If not for the evidence of the EMF, it could just have been four people having very shitty days and poor Mrs. Monroe being the unlucky proprietor of the best place to commit suicide in Cape May. He needed to talk to Sam.

He dialed Sam’s phone before he got back on the road, but he didn’t pick up. Tony frowned, and then pulled the Civic back out onto the road. He needed to get back into town.

A half hour later, he pulled into the parking lot of the Whale’s Tavern. Sam wasn’t in their room, nor was he in any of the common areas of the hotel. Tony walked around the deck twice, a feeling of apprehension growing, his neck prickling with the sense of something wrong.

“Are you looking for your cousin?”

He turned at the sound of the girl’s voice. It was the girl at the counter, the one who had asked if Sam was his dad. “Uh, yeah. Have you seen him?”

“I think I heard my mom giving him directions to the 9/11 memorial in the center of town. It would have taken him a while to walk there.”

He must have found a clue. “Can you give me directions there?”

“It’s easier if you walk, you won’t find parking near there.”

Of course he ignored her advice, then ended up parking the Civic illegally while he ran around the street looking for Sam. Frustrated, he made it back to the car before he got ticketed and drove back to the bed and breakfast. Inside the room, he found why Sam didn’t answer his phone, he had left it in his duffel.

“Dammit.” Tony threw himself on the squeaky bed. Only once he fell onto its soft confines did he think Sam probably went to investigate elsewhere. The memorial had obviously sparked something. However, Tony had no idea what. The only thing he could do was grab something to eat and wait.

He ended up asking the owner’s daughter -- her name was Maggie -- if she could fix him lunch. After the rather large and delicious result, he staggered back to the room and decided a nap sounded like a fantastic idea.

He awoke to darkness and a shadow standing over him.

“Fuck!” Tony sat up, clutching at the place under his pillow where there should have been a knife. That was one practice of Dean’s that he really should follow. He always ended up waking up with Dean in his brain anyway, why not actually provide support if he needed it.

He flicked on the light to see Sam standing at the foot of his bed, fixing Tony a heavy stare. “Sam? What’s wrong? What did you find?”

Sam didn’t say anything, just turned and stalked out of the room. Tony slid out of bed, not bothering to put his shoes back on to follow Sam. Something was wrong and that sense of foreboding from his afternoon came back in full force. “Sam? Sammy?” he called, hoping the nickname would break Sam out of whatever funk he happened to be in.

But it didn’t. Sam continued to walk down the stairs, then out the back door. Twilight had come and gone, leaving the barest hint of light around the horizon. Sam stepped onto the wooden deck and walked towards the dock that stretched over the water. Tony had to run to catch up with him.

“Sam? What the hell, Sam, c’mon?” Tony grabbed his arm, but Sam shook him off, pushing him away so violently Tony slammed against the floor of the deck. He sat there, staring in shock as Sam kicked off his shoes, then balanced on the very edge of the railing. “No!” he yelled as Sam leapt off the dock.

Tony got to his feet, and took a running start off the dock. He hit the cold water like an arrow, desperate to get his hands on Sam. Sam started sinking, he didn’t even try to swim or stop himself from drowning.

Tony fought the current, diving deep on only a mouthful of air. Kicking hard, he managed to get his arm around Sam’s torso and dragged him up. He slammed into one of the pillars of the dock and nearly lost his grip as he was overcome with pain. Gritting his teeth, Tony continued to kick and drag Sam back to shore.

“Sam?” he whispered. Tony coughed, then checked Sam’s airway. He rolled Sam onto his side, frightened at how unresponsive he was. Tony ran through his checklist in his mind, hoping he remembered how to perform CPR. It had been a few years since he had worked as a lifeguard and his certification was out of date.

Sam started coughing out water, curling in on himself with a moan.

“Oh, thank god.” Tony made the sign of the cross quickly. “Sam?”

“Dean?” Sam croaked, his voice weak.

“No,” Tony said softly. “C’mon Sam, stay with me.”

Sam opened his eyes, then pushed himself up on his elbows. “Tony? What the hell happened?”

“You tell me!” Tony shouted. “I don’t hear from you all day, and then you show up in time for me to watch you take a dive into the ocean. You’re damn lucky I remembered my life guard training!” Tony’s arms flailed as he spoke. He couldn’t seem to restrain himself. He had almost lost Sam, nearly lost him forever.

“Fuck, she got me.” Sam let himself sink back to the sand. It caked the back of his head and hair. Tony knew they both would be feeling sand in strange places for hours afterwards.

“You found the thing?” Tony asked.

“Spirit,” Sam coughed. “Committed suicide after losing her fiance on September 11th.”

“All the victims lost someone they loved,” Tony said. Even Sam. “There must be some kind of loop they get caught in.”

“And it started when the memorial was dedicated. It must have stirred the ghost up.”

“You okay?” Tony asked, moving to help Sam to his feet.

Sam coughed again and cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“Good, cause we have to go burn the bitch now.”

***

Sam kept wanting to apologize. Realistically he knew it hadn’t been his fault. He tended to be more susceptible to spirit interference than the average person and he figured Tony knew that. Tony had sat stiff and silent in the driver’s side of the Civic, hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly as they drove to the cemetery. Sam ended up saying nothing at all.

They split up looking for the grave, the tiny beams of light from their flashlights the only illumination in the entire cemetery. Like most graveyards in old towns, the stone varied, from very modern and shiny marble, to tiny, broken and cracked granite, hundreds of years old. Sam nearly tripped over the top half of one such stone, having split and fallen off somehow.

“Here!” Tony called, his voice short and bitten off.

Sam trudged to his side. His head swam and the world tilted for a moment. He gripped onto the nearest thing he could find -- a tree-- to keep from pitching over. Nearly drowning had taken more out of him than he had realized. He swallowed and took a deep breath, waiting for the horizon to settle down before starting again.

By the time he reached Tony, the other man had already started digging. Sam tossed his shovel into the dirt and plopped himself down. Let the youngen have all the fun. He’d tease him about it later. Right now it seemed like Tony needed the physical act of digging, much like Dean needed and used action to clear his mind. Sam bit his lips at the thought and hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

After a while, Sam’s head cleared and he stood to help Tony finish the job. Tony slammed his shovel through the wood of the coffin, revealing the tattered corpse. He climbed out of the grave, holding on to Sam’s hand for support before sprinkling the lighter fluid and salt over the body.

Sam handed Tony the pack of matches. Tony lit the book, then dropped it into the hole. Flame erupted, crackling loudly in the darkness. “You almost died Sam.”

“I...” Sam started to respond, although he still wasn’t sure what he should say, when Tony had him by the arms and slammed him against the closest tree.

He expected to be yelled at. To be lectured for forgetting his phone, not waiting for backup. For Tony to demand Sam never be so foolish again. Instead, instead Tony reached up and kissed him.

Sam gasped, opening his mouth and Tony slid right in. He sucked at Sam’s lower lip gently, before licking tentatively, as if unsure. Sam licked right back, letting their tongues caress and lips meet. He lifted a hand and tangled it in Tony’s hair, pulling back a bit. Tony let himself be led away, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered. He wanted to know whom he was kissing: Tony or Dean.

Thick eyelashes fluttered open, revealing dark brown eyes. “Are you disappointed?” Tony asked.

Sam bit back a laugh, “That you’re not my brother?”

“Well, when you put it like that...”

As if given the green light, Tony moved forward again, capturing Sam’s mouth. He didn’t stop there, settling between Sam’s spread legs he brushed his groin against Sam’s. Sam moaned at the sensation, growing hard from the friction. “Tony, not here. So don’t want to get arrested for indecent exposure.”

Tony made a sound low in his throat before leaning forward for just one more kiss. Sam obliged, his fingers running up and down Tony’s back, almost of their own accord. He wanted, oh how he wanted, to just push Tony down onto the grass, to strip him slowly, reveal every inch of his naked body, see how smooth that skin really was.

But they had a job to finish up and two perfectly good beds back at the Whale’s Tavern. “I’ll drive,” he said, breaking away for a gasp of air. “Let’s hurry.”

Sam hurried. They cleaned up as best they good. Sam found he could only concentrate if he didn’t look at Tony. Looking made him want to touch. His hand itched as he watched Tony put the bags back into the trunk of the Civic. He wanted to run his hand along that tight ass, see if it felt as good as it looked.

Soon, he thought. Soon.

He pulled into the parking lot at the Tavern none too steadily, pretty sure he took up two spots. Sam didn’t care. Tony flashed him a grin as they exited the car and Sam stopped to brush his fingers along the other man’s cheek. “You sure about this?”

“You kidding?” Tony said, his breath misting in the brisk night air. Sam shivered as it touched his hand.

“C’mon.” Sam led the way up to the room, shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his boots before Tony even had the door closed. He turned around and pressed Tony up against the wall, nuzzling at that spot beneath his jaw. “Bed?”

“Squeaks,” Tony said.

“Damn.”

“Like this,” Tony whispered, spreading his legs a bit as he leaned back against the wall.

“You’re going to kill me,” Sam muttered, fitting his hands to Tony’s hips, pulling up the t-shirt’s edge so he could find skin, dammit. The touch scorched his fingers, going straight to his cock. Damn, it had been far too long.

Tony’s hands roamed, pulled at Sam’s shirt, tugging until Sam broke away long enough to tear it off. “Oh, Sam,” Tony murmured, his fingers mapping the scars along Sam’s torso. He leaned down, mouth covering the worst of them, sucking the path up to one of Sam’s nipples.

Sam cried out, and reached for the back of Tony’s neck, guiding him where he wanted next. Tony swirled his tongue around Sam’s other nipple, nipping at it gently. Sam had to reach down and grab himself through his pants. “Take it easy on an old man, kid, we don’t want this show over before its started.”

“You’re not old,” Tony snorted. “C’mon, off.” He tried to undo Sam’s jeans, but the zipper seemed stuck. Sam swore and tugged at it himself, pushing his pants and underwear down with one swift movement, stepping out of them only to watch Tony pulling off his own jeans. He moved slowly, with a sly grin on his face, as if he knew what that did to Sam, with those slow seductive movements.

“You’re perfect.” Sam had to touch, had to run his fingers along that perfect curve of Tony’s erection, blushed a dark red against the golden tones of his skin. Tony shivered when Sam’s hand encircled his cock, sliding up to cup the crown and catching the drip of precome waiting there.

Tony arched his hips into the touch, his hands flat against the wall. He was flushed all over, his eyes heavy lidded with want. His t-shirt rode up under his armpits and instead of looking silly, it only made Sam grow harder. “Like this?” Sam used his free hand to tug on his balls, still caressing Tony’s cock with slow strokes.

The noise that came out of Tony’s mouth was something between a moan and a whimper. “More, god.”

Sam needed more contact, he shifted so he could grind his dick against Tony’s thigh as he continued to work the other man’s cock. Tony tilted his head away, eyes shut tightly, as if it was all too much. Sam leaned and bit his throat, pleased when Tony shivered. God this was too good, this young man lost in his touch.

“Fuck me,” Tony gasped out, his head jerking away from the wall. His eyes opened wide, wider than Sam had ever seen. “Please.”

Sam swallowed. “You ever done that before?” He moved one hand along Tony’s side, down over his ass, finally touching the soft skin there.  

Tony shook his head. “Not in this lifetime.”

The words were unspoken, perhaps in another? But Sam was too far gone to question. If Tony wanted it, he would provide. The thought of sliding into that tight heat had him so hard he could drive nails into wood.

“Turn around, brace yourself against the wall.”

Tony did as he said, pulling away from Sam’s body long enough to obey. Sam slid his hands along Tony’s back, squeezing his waist, then pinching his ass playfully. He pulled Tony’s legs a bit wider, then pushed against the small of his back gently. The effect was that of Tony spread out against the wall, his ass tilted up, just waiting to be fucked.

Sam pressed two fingers against Tony’s mouth. Tony opened his plump lips, sucking on the digits. The warmth and moist heat were only a preview of what was to come. Sam pulled them away reluctantly, Tony seemed eager to suck. He’d have to have him blow him later, on his knees, Sam rocking his cock into that skilled mouth.

Enough of that, no more fantasizing when he had the real thing right here. Sam circled the entrance to Tony’s body, but he could only fit one finger in at first. Tight, he thought, too tight for what he had planned.

He leaned forward and showered gentle kisses along Tony’s shoulder and up his neck. “Take it easy, I need to find some lotion...”

“Bathroom,” Tony ground out, “Behind the sink.”

Sam broke speed records getting to the bathroom and back, the tiny glass bottle already uncapped by the time he made it back into the bedroom. Lotion poured into his hand, and it made his entry so much easier, fingers slipping inside. Warm skin enveloped his finger, as if Tony welcomed Sam into his body.

“Ok?” Sam asked.

“Feels...not like I expected,” Tony said.

“Good weird or bad weird?”

Tony laughed. “Weird weird.”

Sam crooked his finger upwards and Tony’s entire body jolted.

“God, definitely good weird.”

“Wait until I get my cock up inside you,” Sam hissed, his lips caressing Tony’s ear as he spoke. “So deep in you, we’ll be like one person. Nothing can separate us...”

Tony turned his head a bit desperately, his lip straining to meet Sam’s. He allowed it, kissing his lover, but taking control of the action, forcing Tony’s mouth open, only standing for his tongue to invade the other man’s mouth. Sam ground his hips against Tony’s back, needing to be inside that heat right now.

He added a second finger, circling again and again until he felt Tony could take him. Then Sam slowly pulled out, his fingers still coated with lotion and Tony’s hole glistened with slickness. He placed a hand on each hip and lined himself up.

Sam didn’t warn Tony, didn’t want him to tense up before Sam plunged inside. It took time, Tony was tight and Sam had to keep pushing, more and more pressure until finally, he was through.

Tony gasped, that same half whimpering noise he had been making all evening. Sam forced himself to still, although all he wanted to do was thrust. “Okay?” he ground out, voice deeper than normal.

Tony nodded, perhaps all he could do at the moment. Sam grinned, then held on harder, toes digging into the carpet for leverage as he pulled back and then slammed forward. Tony rolled his hips with the movement, meeting Sam on the upswing. They fit together, their bodies perfect curves against each other.

Sam thrust with the motion, stuttering only as he reached his climax. The heaviness rose in his balls and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He pushed forward once more, hard, jerking Tony off his careful balance.

“Sam,” Tony choked, nearly falling.

Sam collapsed against the other man, curving one arm around to hold on to that flushed, tortured cock. Tony gasped as he came, ropes of white decorating the wall and floor. Sam’s breath came heavy and he rested his head on Tony’s shoulder, holding on as tightly as he dared. Tony trembled in his embrace.

“Doesn’t matter if the bed squeaks now,” he murmured, pulled back just enough to slip from Tony’s body.

Tony grunted and let Sam drag him to the bed. Sam tumbled in next too him, too exhausted to think of clean up. There would be plenty of time for that tomorrow.

***

Light filtered into the tiny room. No one had shut the curtains the night before, so Sam ended up squinting against the brightness of the morning. He opened his eyes to see a head of shaggy dark hair on the pillow next to him. He had only managed to half get under the covers himself, one leg caught in the tangle of sheets and comforter. Tony curled away from him, hands tucked under his pillow like a child.

Sam couldn’t help but press a kiss at the back of Tony’s neck. He ran his hand down Tony’s arm, hoping Tony would be interested in round two. The shower seemed a good size in this place.

Tony made a grunting noise in his throat and rolled over, away from Sam a bit, onto his back. He turned his face towards Sam and opened his eyes.

They were green.

Sam swallowed. “Dean?”

“Sammy,” Tony’s voice came out raspy, sounding more like Dean than he had any right to. “Tell me we didn’t?” His eyes were wide, startled. He rolled onto his side, facing Sam, motioning between the two of them with a quick hand gesture.

“I’m afraid we did. To be fair, it wasn’t you at the time.”

“Why’d you let the kid do it?”

Sam gasped. “I didn’t...”

Dean rolled his eyes - Tony’s eyes. He reached forward with a shaking hand to card his fingers through Sam’s graying brown hair. “Sammy...what happened to you?”

Sam shrugged. “I got older. It happens...” he was about to ask Dean what he remembered, where he was in his roll of memories.

Instead, Dean spoke first, his voice tight. “Why didn’t you go back to school? Make a life for yourself. You’re still hunting. Without me.”

This was Dean with full knowledge of what he had done. Had Tony finally followed the dreams to their logical conclusion, to the night of Dean’s death where he thought he was leaving Sam behind?

“I sorta have you now.” Sam realized he could touch now, could walk his fingers along Dean’s back, move their bodies closer together. “And I couldn’t go back to school. There’s a little matter of being wanted by the FBI.”

Dean shook his head, they were so close now they were breathing each other’s air. “You could have forged something, did something. Gotten out, Sam. Away. The demon’s dead.”

“There are other demons, Dean.” Sam said. “The visions didn’t go away. I got stronger. I couldn’t stop. God Dean, I’ve missed you, so much.”

He couldn’t help himself. Sam darted forward, catching Dean’s lips with his own, kissing his brother, through Tony, but still Dean for the first time. Dean kissed him back, lips warm and wet and willing.

Sam pulled back, his eyes filling with tears. Tony’s brown eyes looked back at him. Tony shivered in his arms. “Sam?”

“Tony,” Sam breathed. He wanted them both, he realized. He wanted Dean, his brother, his other half, here by his side. He missed Dean so fiercely his heart burned for him. But he wanted Tony, the man who had wormed his way into Sam’s life these past few months. Tony had brightened his world, had brought hope and vigor and made Sam want for himself for the first time in years.

God help him, he just thought he might be able to have them.

“He knows,” Tony said, wonder in his tone. “He knows about me.”

“Tony...”

“Do you know how often he thought about you?” Tony said, his eyes not looking at Sam. “He wanted to touch you, so bad. But he never let himself do it.”

Sam nodded. “I knew, and I knew he’d never do it.”

“You didn’t either, and you wanted to.”

Sam didn’t explain. This was something Tony had no part in. What had been between he and Dean was in the past. They moved forward, together now. All three of them. He felt the laughter building up and couldn’t help the giggle that burst out of his lips.

“Sam?” Tony asked, concerned.

“Weird threesome,” Sam finally choked out.

Tony snorted, but he grinned. Sam decided they had enough talking for pre-coffee and rolled Tony over, Sam straddling the younger man. Tony winced and Sam remember how Tony was pretty much a virgin until last night. He had to be sore.

Then he realized something else.

“Fuck.” Sam’s eyes widened. “I forgot, I was so into it last night....”

“What?” Tony rose up on his elbows.

“Condom,” Sam whispered.

“Oh, that.” Tony reached out and drew Sam back down to him. “Too late now.”

Clearly. But he didn’t protest when Tony raised his hips, grinding his morning wood against Sam’s. "We’ll just have to improvise something else."

Yeah, Sam thought he could handle that.

***

Tony drove on the journey back up the parkway. He still felt sore and shakey, but figured it was only fair since Sam had driven down. He wanted the distraction, the excuse to keep his eyes on the road, darting between other cars and keeping slightly above the speed limit, to avoid talking or thinking about last night.

Hell, it didn’t work. All he could think about was last night. Sam, god, Sam had given him everything he had asked for. And then some. When he thought of being taken, slammed up against the hotel wall, he could feel his skin burning, the flush rising in his cheeks. He had to bite down on his lower lip to keep the arousal at bay.

Tony risked a look at Sam over in the passenger seat. Sam met his eyes and grinned. God knows they didn’t really resolve anything. Tony still had Sam’s dead brother living in his brain, was still subject to the whims of his dreams and memories. But now he had Sam too, in a way that mattered.

“Sam,” he said, then cleared his throat because his voice just sounded awful. “That, that thing between us last night?”

He took a risk and rested one hand on Sam’s thigh, fingers digging into the worn denim.

“That wasn’t a one time thing, right?” He looked over again, meeting Sam’s changeable eyes.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” Sam said, his lips pursing together in a grin. Then he put his own hand over Tony’s, threading their fingers together.

That was all the answer Tony needed.


Part 4


She looked exactly the same as the last time he saw her, which, really should be impossible, since that had been twenty years ago and she always took a new host when summoned. Dean watched as she approached, unable to move, caught by her blood red gaze.

She smiled and he knew he was fucked.

“You thought you were so smart,” she said, her voice loud and mocking. It hurt his ears and he winced.

“That’s my brother,” he said. “I’m the pretty one.”

“And how is dear Sammy? Still up and breathing?”

Dean’s blood went cold. Mist rose from the ground, swirling around them both.

“You only delayed the inevitable, Dean. Your soul still belongs to me.”

“Did you get that speech from old comic books? From where I’m standing, you can’t do a damn thing to me.” He changed his stance, spreading his legs a bit and letting his arms hang loose. If she wanted to fight, he was ready, but he also tried to look like he didn’t give a damn what she did to him.

“I can wait,” she said. “Remember that Dean, for as long as the spell lasts, I can wait.”

He opened his eyes to a white ceiling. Someone was in his room. He had his hand slipped under his pillow before he remembered. Then he sat up and stared at the girl sitting on the edge of the bed. She was way too young to be his type. Wait, it was his sister, what was her name again?

“Cool, Tony, how’d you get your eyes to do that?”

“Rosa,” Tony said, pulling his hand away from the knife he now kept under his pillow. “How’d you get in here? I locked the door.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like Gina didn’t teach me to jimmy the lock when I was twelve.”

“Oh and that was so long ago.”

Rosa took after their mother more so than Tony or Gina. She had their mother’s storm gray eyes, and unlike the thick mops of unruly dark hair they both possessed, hers hung straight down her back. She already showed the promise of the beauty she would one day become.

“C’mon,” she said, “It’s almost time for church, and then we’re going to The Lighthouse for brunch.”

Tony frowned, there was a reason he spent last night in his own bed instead of Sam’s. The dream had knocked it out of him, but then he remembered with a breath. “Oh. Crap. Happy Birthday.”

She grinned at him.

“How does it feel to be the youngest freshman at Oceanville high?”

Rosa slugged his arm, hard. Damn, the girl had been taking lessons from Gina. “Judy Tremontaine’s birthday is in December, so I’m not the youngest. Hah.”

He ruffled her perfectly straight hair, laughing as she sputtered in outrage. “You’ll always be my littlest sister. Here.” Tony pulled open the top drawer on his end table, pulling out the pink envelope there. He had agonized over a gift for days, until Sam had finally dragged him out to the mall to pick something out. He smiled, he couldn’t help but smile when he thought about Sam.

Tony didn’t know what to call it, relationship sounded so trite for what they had. Sam turned out to be more than his boyfriend, but he shied away from the word lover, though they were lovers. He handed the envelope the Rosa, this was not the time to think about sex with Sam.

“Gimme!” she tore the gift open eagerly, opening the ridiculously cute card without a glance for the purple unicorn on its front. “A giftcard...?” she pulled out the slim credit card.

“It’s for the entire mall. You spend so much time there already,” he rolled his eyes, “but you can spend it on food, ice cream, whatever.”

She bounced forward and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you, Tony, you’re awesome.”

Thank my boyfriend, he thought with a smirk, but hugged her back. “You okay, kid?” he asked, when she pulled away. Rosa had been too quiet lately, she was usually bouncey, like today, only all the time.

She shrugged. “Freshman year, kinda busy.”

“You’ll do fine. Now come on, I want food.”

She pulled away and tore out of the room shouting, “Gina! Look what Tony got me for my birthday! What did you get me, huh?”

Tony grinned and fell back on the bed. Littlest sis was growing up. Fourteen. He remembered when Sammy was fourteen, and shot up to nearly six feet. He was all limbs and awkwardness.

No, he thought, not me, that was Dean. Dean who remembered.

***

Tony showed up on his doorstep with a large plastic bag and a backpack thrown over one shoulder. “Play hooky today. Unless there are any possessed cats needing your help again?”

Sam felt his face burn at the jibe. “I did get her to take it to a vet.”

Tony threw back his head and laughed. His heavy coat and jeans were belied by the pair of leather sandals he wore. Apparently he was the type of guy to wear sandals in...was it November already? How quickly the fall had come. “Come on.”

“Where are we going? And what do I need to bring?”

“Just follow me.” Tony tossed him a grin and started to walk away from the shop.

Sam quickly tossed his “come back later!” sign up and locked the door before following Tony down the boardwalk. Most of the tourists had gone, the brisk cold of winter on its way. There was no more reason to sit on the beach, no way to enjoy the freezing cold ocean. Though in a few months Sam knew the polar bear club would be plunging into its depths and last week the Harley Davidson enthusiasts had taken over the boardwalk for their convention.

Now all was quiet, except for the wailing of the wind and the roar of the ocean.

Tony stopped and waited for Sam, standing at the railing to the steps that led down to the sandy beach. “Best time, you don’t have to pay to get on the beach.”

“That’s because it’s 45 degrees out here.” Sam followed him down onto the sand, balancing carefully on his worn sneakers to keep the sand from getting in.

Tony had kicked off his sandals and let his feet sink into the snowy white sand. They’d be cold, Sam knew, and maybe he could offer to warm them up later. Man, he had to be far gone if he was thinking with pleasure of offering a foot massage. Maybe Tony just brought out the kinks in him.

They stopped not to far from the water, just enough to keep out of the way of high tide. Tony pulled off his backpack and spread a blanket out on the sand. “That’s for later.”

“Oh?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

Tony pulled something bright and colorful out of the plastic bag. “First we’re going to fly a kite.”

“You’re not serious?”

“Have you ever flown a kite before?” Tony asked, a bit imperiously. Sam knew Tony knew the answer to that question. He sighed. “My parents used to take us here when it got cold and the wind picked up. I took my first girlfriend here.”

Sam caught Tony’s hands, the ones clutching the kite like a lifeline. “So is this like a date?”

“Closest we come,” Tony said with a shy smile.

“Show me.”

It turned out to be a lot more work than Sam had imagined. A lot of running and laughing, trying to catch the kite into a good wind, get it further than a few feet into the air. Eventually Sam kicked off his own shoes, too warm from his exertion to mind the cold. When they succeeded, the brightly colored scrap of fabric high in the sky, Sam threw an arm around Tony and kissed him.

Tony let go with one hand to clutch at Sam’s shirt, nearly losing his grip on the kite. Sam laughed and grabbed the free handle on the spool of thread. “Let’s bring it in,” he whispered, now in the mood for other things.

Tony gulped and nodded and began to wind the white cord, the red fluttering coming closer and closer. They brought it down safely, not harming it in the subsequent crash and Tony tucked it all next to the blanket.

Sam tackled him down onto the scratchy blanket, straddling him and covering his face with open mouthed kisses. Tony reached up with his hands, getting them underneath Sam’s shirt, cold skin a shock to his warm torso. “You ever have sex on the beach?” he asked.

Tony laughed. “I think everyone in Oceanville lost their virginity on this beach.”

“Even you?”

“Even me.”

Sam frowned down at him, rolling his hips so they teased Tony with just the hint of contact. “I don’t like being non-original.”

“And sand gets up in weird places.”

Sam rolled off him with a laugh. “Maybe we’ll just make out and head back to my perfectly good bed later.”

Tony sat up and poked him. “What’s up with you and beds anyway? We did perfectly fine without one the first time.”

Sam liked the way Tony blushed when he talked about sex. He wondered if the younger man even knew he was doing it. He sat up and pulled Tony until he had him settled between his spread legs, facing the ocean rolling towards them. Sam wrapped his arms around Tony, holding him tight to his body as he buried his face against that soft hair.

Tony leaned back against him, tilting his head to the side for a kiss. It was awkward and it probably killed his neck, but Sam went for it, loving the feel of having this man in his arms. They broke apart and Sam went back to mouthing at the skin below Tony’s ear while his hands slid under Tony’s shirt to rest against the curve of his belly.

Sam couldn’t stop touching him, he thought he would never be able to stop running his fingers over the smooth skin Tony gifted him with. He breathed deeply of Tony’s body.

“You smell so good,” Sam whispered, “you always smell like the sea air.”

“You’re a sap, Sammy.”

Sam stiffened, then held on tighter. “Dean?”

“Shh, just, just hold us.” His eyes were clenched tightly shut.

Sam leaned his head against his lover’s shoulder and shut his own eyes. “Yeah,” he said, “I can do that.”

***

They walked leisurely back along the boardwalk, fingers brushing together as they moved. Tony didn’t think he was quite ready for any major public displays of affection in front of other people, but he liked the physical connection. He liked the way Sam would turn and smile at him. Sam needed to smile more, and that was something both he and Dean believed.

Dean. He seemed much closer now, just under the surface, as if all Tony needed to do was summon him and Dean would take over. But Dean seemed content to stay where he was, only surfacing in the aftermath of one of Tony’s dreams. They were no closer to finding out the spell Bobby had cast and Tony found he was starting not to mind. Not if it had given him Sam.

“If this is an official date, shouldn’t we go out someplace fancy to dinner?” Sam said as they walked, stopping idly at various booths and shops, seeing which arcades were still open.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, maybe Andersons?” Sam said.

Tony laughed. “Everyone knows that place is really a front for the mob.”

Sam looked stricken. Tony had probably ruined his favorite restaurant for him. He hit Sam’s hip with his own, jolting the man off his stride just a bit. “We’ll use a fake credit card, it’ll all work out.”

Tony pulled Sam back towards the shop. “Let’s do the crazy clown booth.” He laughed at the expression on Sam’s face. “C’mon. You’re a good enough marksman that you’ll show those clowns what for.”

“I don’t know what I’d do with the giant panda.”

“You can give it to me. Anyway, no way we’ll have enough players for the giant panda this time of year.”

Sam let Tony drag him over. Definitely being a good sport. Tony didn’t mind, he was having too good a time to care that he was being indulged. He paid for both of their chances and a random guy, probably another local, took up one of the other guns down the end of the booth. So they had enough players to qualify for a medium size prize.

Tony hefted his water gun and took aim. When the siren went off he shot straight for the clown’s mouth, filling it with water that inflated the balloon above its head. The game was pretty obscene. Funny how he had never noticed that before.

Sam’s balloon popped first and the winning siren went off, complete with flashing red light. He grimaced and Tony figured Sam would rather have been aiming a real gun at each of the clown heads. Sam picked out one of the medium size stuffed dogs and handed it to Tony. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

“Dude, I paid for the admission,” Tony laughed, taking the big brown dog. The eyes reminded him a bit of Sam. “Come here.” He threw an arm around Sam, and stood on his toes to give him a sloppy kiss; an appropriate response to the receipt of a goofy stuffed animal prize.

“Tony?” A familiar voice broke into the moment.

Tony stumbled away from Sam, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Gina?”

He didn’t think, he couldn’t explain how or why, but his sister stood there on the boardwalk, just outside Sam’s shop, her hands tugging her coat around her body. Her face twisted into an expression he had never seen before. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” he blurted.

She cocked her head to one side and pointed to her watch. “It’s four o’clock. I got out two hours ago.”

“How, how did you know I’d be here?” He tried to process the situation. He still couldn’t conceive of how or why Gina would be here.

“I didn’t. I came to talk to him.” She threw Sam an angry look, her eyes burning. “I asked you to help him, not seduce him!”

“Gina,” Tony moved to stand between them. “It’s not like that...”

“No? I didn’t just see you making out with our resident psychic?” She turned and started to walk away.

Tony looked back at Sam. He wasn’t sure of the expression on his own face, but Sam’s looked almost panicked. “Go.”

Tony ran after Gina, tugging on her arm to get her to look at him. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

She didn’t look up at him, just kept walking though at a slower place. “I’m sure you didn’t.” Her voice cut like ice. “You didn’t mean to lie to me and mom and dad for months.”

“I didn’t,” he started to deny it.

Gina knew him better than that. “So you spent all those nights studying? At the library. And Freddy was just helping you with the dreams, and they’re no big deal now.”

“Sam.” Tony said softly.

“What?” she shook her head.

“His real name is Sam, not Freddy. That’s just his uh stage name.”

“Right. And he’s not a con artist.”

“You’ve been watching too much television.”

“You’ve never liked men before. You always had girlfriends.” Gina ran her hand through her curls, mussing them more than usual.   

“He didn’t seduce me. We started out friends. I told you that.”

“He’s dad’s age.”

“Five years younger than Dad, actually.”

“God, Tony, like that makes it better.” She threw up her hands as she spoke, turning away again.

“The dreams, Gina.” he said, when the silence grew too much. “Sam was in them, before I ever met him.”

“Are you saying you’re psychic too?”

“No, Gina. I’m saying that twenty years ago Sam lost someone he loved. And I’ve been dreaming that guy’s life.”

“Did he tell you that?”

Tony wanted to grab her, wanted to yell at her for not trusting Sam. But she had no reason to. Hell, she had no reason to believe Tony. He had been lying to his entire family. He thought of the Impala, sitting in his dad’s garage, ready for pick up. He never explained the source of the job. Just someone he knew on the boardwalk.

God, he felt like an ass.

“Gina. I trust him,” he said finally.

She frowned, then punched him in the arm. “This isn’t over, bro. I’m not leaving it.”

“I know.” Then he let her walk away.

He went back to the shop. Sam had opened it up again and sat behind the counter. He looked up when the sensor chimed and hopped up when Tony entered.

“Here, sit.” he motioned to the counter and pulled out a bottle of whiskey from underneath. He poured Tony a shot and ordered him to drink.

“You realize you’re aiding and abetting underage drinking?” Tony tried to joke, but it fell flat.

“Just drink. You could use it.”

Tony rolled his eyes and downed the shot. It burned going down and set a pleasant fire in his stomach. Part of him felt relieved. He hated lying to Gina and now he didn’t have to. “You know,” he said, “I wanted today to be perfect. I had a surprise for you.”

Sam leaned against the wall, tilting his head back against it. “Instead you got one.”

“Yeah.” Tony rubbed his eyes. He reached out for Sam, bringing him close. He put his arms around him and laid his head on Sam’s belly.

Sam ran his fingers through Tony’s hair and he closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the gentle massage along his scalp. “You still want to...”

Tony pulled away. “What? You think that Gina finding out changes things?”

“I know how important your family is to you.” Sam’s eyes were tired.

You’re my family. Tony knew better than to say it. “Gina won’t tell my parents. Now Rosa, Rosa would tell the whole damn town and not realize it.”

“Tony.” He heard the warning in Sam’s voice.

“Can’t we just go upstairs and forget about this?”

Sam kissed him. Tony could feel the sorrow in it, like Sam was saying goodbye. “No, Sam.” he whispered. “It’s always going to be you.”

“You don’t know that.”

Tony stood up and tugged Sam away. “C’mon.”

“Let me lock the front door first.”

Sam followed him up the back steps to his apartment. Sam always followed wherever he led. Tony turned and watched Sam enter. They stared at each other for a moment, neither moving.

Tony took the step forward and Sam came to him. He stripped Sam of his jacket and shirt between kisses, not an easy feat. Sam returned the favor, taking his time nipping along Tony’s chest. Every time they did this, Sam took his time with Tony’s body, worshiping him with fingers and mouth.

“Can we do it like this?” Tony asked when Sam came up for air. Sam had one hand behind Tony’s neck, playing with the soft hair there, the other curled protectively around his waist. “Face to face? You inside me?”

Sam closed his eyes, then leaned forward to press a kiss against his forehead. “Yeah.”

They ended up twined together on the bed, Sam on his back with Tony above him, slowing working himself onto Sam’s thick cock. It felt deeper this way. Tony felt spread open, his thighs spread wide by Sam’s waist. Sam guided him with large hands on his hips, holding tightly, though he tended to slip past and massage Tony’s buttocks, holding him open as he sank down ever further.

Tony groaned as he slid down completely, Sam as deep as he could get. “Move,” Sam choked out, fingers flexing on Tony’s skin.

“Yeah,” Tony rolled his hips. He almost felt too full and tried to shift upward, away from the thickness inside him. Sam followed with an upward thrust of his own. It sent shocks of sensation all along Tony’s center.

Sam sat up, carefully, scratching his fingers up Tony’s back as they moved. They melded, thrusting against each other, trying to find a rhythm. His cock left trails of precome all along Sam’s belly, the smell of musk strong in the air of the tiny apartment.

Tony held on to Sam’s shoulders, needing the contact, but wanting to watch Sam’s eyes. Sam’s face shifted expressions, his eyes clenched shut and mouth open wide. He dropped one hand to his own dick, wanting to come with Sam still hard inside him. He wanted Sam to feel it too.

“Sam,” he cried out, coming around his fingertips and onto Sam.

Sam flipped him over, effortlessly, as if Tony weighted nothing. Tony knew it would cost the older man later. Sam’s back wasn’t what it used to be.

Tony’s legs were stretched back, Sam had him bent almost double as he pounded inside him. His orgasm come and gone, Tony just held on to enjoy the ride, enjoy being this close to Sam, connected in the deepest way two people could be.

Sam rumbled deep in his throat and stilled as he came. His fingers tightened around Tony’s arms and Tony knew there would be bruises.

They lay tangled together after, Tony fit himself in Sam’s arms as they spooned. Sam kept one hand over Tony’s stomach, petting him almost like a dog or cat. He didn’t mind.

“Oh,” he said. “Your surprise.”

“If you can still think right now I’m not fucking you hard enough.” Sam groaned, already halfway to sleep.

“The Impala is ready. We can take her out tomorrow. Well, after class. If you don’t mind.”

Sam snored on behind him. Tony smiled.

***

The motel looked familiar. Sam had lived in hundreds of rooms just like it throughout his life. In fact, he felt sure he’d been in this very room. He just couldn’t place it in his memory.

He turned, trying to get a better feel for the place. That’s when he saw the boy.

The child slept cocooned in motel blankets, dark curls spread out on the thin pillow. Over the boy something coalesced, almost transparent in the darkness, but clearly a figure of some sort, leaning over the bed. Sam ran forward, realizing what the creature was.

But he walked right through the bed, unable to dislodge the Striga from the boy. A noise behind him made him look up.

Another boy in the doorway, this one with a shotgun cocked in his hands. This boy he recognized at once. Dean.

Sam whirled back to the bed. He knew when this was. “Dean,” he whispered.

The motel door slammed open to reveal their father, larger than life and madder than hell. He fired when Dean could not and the thing drew away from Sam’s child self. Dad ran to the bed and cradled his youngest, his glare all for the disobedient Dean standing still in the doorway.

***

Sam sat up bed, his thoughts jumbled together. Tony still slept on next to him, curled around both of Sam’s pillows. He reached out and shook him gently. The ceiling fan’s humming seemed loud in the dark room. “Tony?”

Tony startled awake, jerking at Sam’s touch. “Sammy?”

“Tony, c’mon, wake up.”

Tony sat up, rubbing his eyes like he always did in the morning. Sam wondered if maybe he needed glasses. “Sam?”

“Yeah. Were you dreaming of the night with the Striga?”

“How did you know?”

“Because I dreamt it that time too.”

Tony gasped. “I thought your freaky mind powers didn’t work on me.”

“Maybe since we started, you know.” Sam gestured to the bed.

“What? We mind melded?”

Sam laughed. “When you put it like that...”

“I should get home.” Tony pushed the covers off of him. “Class tomorrow.”

Sam touched his arm, running his thumb along the soft skin inside Tony’s elbow. “It’s not that late.”

Tony looked away. “I really think I need to go. Talk to Gina.”

He was right. Who was Sam to keep Tony from his family? He needed to stop pretending this could go any further. Tony wasn’t Dean, and once Sam figured out what Bobby had done...

Well, Tony deserved to be happy. He deserved a normal life, far away from hunting. Far away from Sam.

“I’ll be back after class.” Tony said. He stood and started picking up his clothes. “We can take the Impala out for a drive.”

Sam’s mouth twisted, he hoped it looked enough like a smile. “Sounds good.”


Part 5


Sam didn’t want Tony to go on this particular hunt. He wouldn’t have even told him about it, didn’t in fact. He made the mistake of leaving his computer open, the holographic display filled with maps and conjectures, the newspaper articles strewn on the table.

Tony had come in and made himself at home, which had become routine over the past few months. Sam hadn’t needed to even give him a key, seems like Tony had learned how to pick the lock on the front door just fine. It amused Sam at the time, though now he worried about how quickly Tony had picked up Dean’s skill.

Sam left the shower to find Tony flipping through the documents, tapping the keyboard projected onto the kitchen table. “Looks like we got ourselves a werewolf.”

Didn’t he have a single clean shirt? Sam sniffed at his laundry pile, trying to find the least smelly of the bunch. Time to hit the laundromat. “Not sure it’s a werewolf.”

“Attacks on hikers? Corresponding with the full moon? Sure looks like a werewolf to me. When do we leave?”

Sam leaned over and snapped the computer off, the displays disappearing with a spark of light.

“Hey.”

“I’m not hunting it. I’ll call Jo, have someone else go after it.”

“Sam, it’s in the pine barrens. It’s practically our backyard.” Tony sat back in the kitchen chair, frowning up at him.

“It’s too dangerous.” Sam opened the fridge and sniffed at his milk. Looked like he needed a trip out to the grocery store too. Maybe he could get Tony to come with him.

“C’mon, Sam, it’ll be fun.”

“Fun?” Sam whirled around, angry. “Don’t you remember the last time we went up against a werewolf?”

Tony scrunched up his forehead, trying to remember. “You were kids, Dean was, anyway.”

Oh, Tony didn’t remember. Sam hadn’t thought of that. He’d been so used to Tony just knowing, just falling into place as Dean would. “No. Much later than that. It was bad.” That was an understatement.

“I don’t remember.” Tony said.

“It doesn’t matter.” Sam said. “I’ll call Jo and she’ll find someone. She’s good at that.”

“And if she tells you that you’re the only one who can do it?”

“We’ll deal with that if we need to.”  Sam picked up the newspapers and shuffled them into neat little piles. “Want to go out for breakfast?”

Tony sniffed. “I think you seriously need to do some laundry first.”

“Not all of us have mothers who wash our clothes for us.” Sam meant it as a joke, not prepared for the stricken look on Tony’s face.

Tony stood so quickly the chair nearly fell over. He caught it before it got that far. “I had this dream.”

Sam cocked his head to show that he was listening. Of course Tony had a dream.

“Dean had met up with a Djinn...”

“Oh. That job.”

“Yeah, that job. Do you know how fucked up it was to dream about a guy dreaming? Anyway, I started to think, what if this was just a dream?”

“Am I going to need to get out the whiskey again?”

Tony made a face. “I mean, what if Dean dreamed me up so he could have you?”

“I think I need the whiskey,” Sam murmured. “What are you talking about?”

“He wanted you. And you were his brother. So this is his chance, cause we’re not related anymore.”

Sam backed Tony against the fridge, leaning down to whisper into his ear. “So you think this is the dream? This isn’t real?”

Tony swallowed, lifting his head to give Sam access to his throat. Sam obliged, nuzzling at his Adam's apple. He sucked on the skin just below it, licking it when he pulled away, so as not to leave a bruise. He could only mark Tony beneath his clothes. Best get him out of them then.

“Even if this isn’t real,” Tony gasped, “I might as well enjoy myself.”

Sam laughed. “C’mon, lets go make some more dirty laundry. If I have to go anyway, might as well make it worth the trip.

Tony followed him back to the bed.

***

“How’s the boyfriend?” Gina asked from the doorway to his bedroom, watching as Tony stuffed clean clothes into his backpack.

Tony winced and stood to shut the door behind her. “Do you want to give Mom a heart attack?”

Gina rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re going away on another overnight trip and they haven’t said a damn thing to you about it.”

“I’m an adult now,” Tony said and tried to ignore her laughter.

“Seriously,” Gina wiped her eyes, recovering from her fit of giggles. “Now that I know, it’s so obvious you have a significant other. You’re like glowing.”

Tony was glad Gina had gotten over her initial shock over his and Sam’s relationship. He wasn’t sure if this total acceptance was a good thing or not. He had forgotten Gina’s tendency to tease him about his girlfriends.

“Shut up.”

“Tony’s in love,” she drawled, dropping herself onto his bed, propping her hands behind her head on his pillow. Tony winced, remembering the knife that was hidden there.

“Don’t know about that,” he mumbled, ruffling though his pack to cover his unease.

“Oh right. You get together with this guy who you were in love with in a past life. Like that’s not sickly romantic.”

“I shouldn’t have told you.” He zipped up the bag and dropped down next to her on the bed. “Now I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Are you going to tell Mom and Dad?” she asked, suddenly serious.

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know.” He and Sam, they fit together, it felt right. But he couldn’t see the future, didn’t know how this would work. And he couldn’t imagine telling his parents that he liked men, never mind introducing him to his twice-his-age boyfriend.

“I wish you would, only so we’d have you around more. You’re never here.” Gina touched his back gently.

“Thought you wanted me out of the house.”

“Turns out the free bathroom time is not all that it’s cracked up to be.” She poked his arm. “Not when Rosa’s in there brushing her hair a hundred times.”

He chuckled. “I’ll try to be around more, really.”

“Invite your boyfriend over for dinner, I’m sure Mom will love that. She’s already asking about your new friend from the boardwalk...”

Tony cringed. “Oh yeah, that would go over so well.”

***

Tony didn’t seem surprised when Sam told him no one else could hunt the werewolf up in the pine barrens. In fact, he seemed to know before Sam, showing up with his overnight bag the day before the full moon, all but bouncing in his hiking boots. Like Dean before Madison, Sam thought, too eager to kill something that had to be a monster. Tony didn’t have the memory though, didn’t recall the pain of caring for someone who turned out to be a creature he hunted.

“Look, you stay back in the car,” Sam said on the way there, taking the Impala out on her first real job since replacing the entire engine. She was almost too quiet, her gentle purr less a rumble and more a soft growl in the night. This was better, he knew, but he still missed the rumble. “You know what to use, right?”

Tony had rolled his eyes. “Silver bullets and silver knives. Either will work and we don’t even have to worry about decapitating the suckers.”

“Oh, the vampires you remember,” Sam bitched. “Seriously, stay in the car, keep your weapon ready. These things are strong.”

Tony seemed to agree and didn’t question Sam’s orders after they pulled into the sandy track of the state park where the mauled hikers were found. They pulled in past the parking area to find a wooded area to park and wait for moonrise.

Later, Sam left Tony by the car and headed out onto the trail, armed with a shotgun, two handguns tucked in his jacket and his knives, one strapped to his ankle, the other his wrist. He figured with his abilities, he’d be all set to take down the werewolf, no matter the roiling of his stomach at the thought. He’d avoided seeking out werewolves since having to shoot Madison, while in her human form and pleading with him to set her free. But Jo couldn’t send anyone out there, not without making Sam a target too.

Part of his reluctance led him to avoid trying to find the human persona of the wolf. It would be easier to kill if he didn’t have to worry about wide eyes, begging for their lives. He’d just shoot the bloody thing and get the hell out of there before he could be found with the body of a person.

He didn’t count on there being a whole fucking pack of them.

Sam stumbled on them by accident, hunting in the thick darkness of the woods. He had expected one, not six. He fired his shotgun, killing the leader first shot, but that only made them angry. They moved, quickly, too fast for him to see and he fired again, blindly. He had to drop his flashlight and move, the light made him a target.

Sam ran, diving over logs, desperate to find the trail again. In these deep woods, they had the advantage. He heard a growl next to him, and fired at the shadow. A yelp told him he had hit his target. Two down. Maybe.

Fuck, why hadn’t he thought of this? The last werewolf had been alone, hell, Madison hadn’t even known she was a werewolf until she couldn’t ignore the evidence anymore. He wished he had gone with Dean and Dad all those years ago when they first encountered werewolves, then at least he’d know how Dad would have handled it.

He came to a halt, forced to by the growling beast in front of him, crouched on all fours. Sam fired the last of the silver shells in his shotgun, and the creature blew to bits in front of him. The distraction was enough for another to get the jump on him, forcing Sam to the ground

He ended up using the shotgun to keep the things teeth from him, but he was stuck, trapped under it with no way to reach any of his other weapons, not if he wanted to keep its mouth away from him. Sam jammed the barrel of the gun farther, holding on to each end as tightly as he could, despite his increasingly sweaty palms.

Then he heard the growl to his right.

Sam found that spot in his brain and pushed. The werewolf on top of him went flying backward. He stumbled to his feet, gripping his hand gun in his right hand. Before he could fire, something grabbed his other arm and threw him. Sam hit a tree hard, his head slammed against the bark. His arm hung from his shoulder and he realized, in that detached slow motion sense that often occurred during a fight, that he had dislocated it.

Growls surrounded him on all sides and Sam slid to the floor, trying to find his dropped gun. The floor of the forest spun and he was pretty darn sure he had a concussion too.

Then the crack of a shotgun broke the silence, hitting the wolf directly in front of Sam. Two more went down before the rest scattered. Sam thought only two were left, but he wasn’t sure. “Tony?” he called when the human figure entered his line of sight.

“Guess again.”

“Dean,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“C’mon, Sammy, don’t black out on me.” Dean helped him stand. “We gotta get you back to the car.”

Sam stumbled, his good arm thrown around Dean’s shoulder. “Two more out there.”

“I’ll get them, bro.”

“You going to yell at me?” Sam asked, when they found the trail again and started off towards the car.

“What, for coming out here without backup?”

“Brought backup.”

“You left the kid out in the car,” Dean grumbled.

“Knew you’d be around,” Sam said softly.

“Bullshit.”

Dean led him to the car, his body tense the entire way. They didn’t hear any more howls or growling and Sam knew the wolves had gone to ground. It would be a bitch of a time flushing them out.

“We gotta take care of that shoulder,” Dean said once they got back to the car. Sam leaned up against it’s side, letting the Impala hold him up, give him strength. He braced himself with his good hand.

“Do it.”

Sam closed his eyes, letting Dean -- Dean in Tony’s body, something he could forget in the darkness of the forest -- grasp his shoulder and pop it back into place. He bit his lip against the pain, against shouting out and letting their quarry know their location. “Fuck,” he whispered when Dean stepped back. The entire side of his body throbbed.

“This time, you wait in the Goddamn car. I got this.”

Sam let him go.

***

Light threaded through the tree tops by the time Dean made it back to the car. The front of his shirt was caked with blood and his face, Tony’s face, was stormy and closed off. Sam had never seen that expression on Tony’s features before. He hadn’t known Dean to stick around for this long either. He was responsible for that, he thought, Dean only stayed to back up Sam, to protect him from his own fuck up.

“Get out. I’m driving.” Dean ordered.

“Dean.”

“You’re not driving with that busted arm.”

“What if Tony comes back in the middle of the drive?”

“He’s a smart kid, he’ll figure it out.”

Sam relented, shifted over to the passenger’s side of the Impala. This felt more right, after all. The Impala was Dean’s car and Sam’s place was by his side. He leaned his head against the window, cradling his left arm carefully. “You know the way?”

“I’m all for stopping at the closest motel...”

“No, home’s not that far.” Sam closed his eyes, hoping Dean would just drive back to the boardwalk. His first aid kit was still there. Damn, he had gotten complacent, should have kept it in the trunk. “Not that I’m complaining, but why are you still here?”

“Where do you want me to go?” Dean said, carefully pulling the Impala back onto the sandy track. He grumbled under his breath about the rocks and his baby’s undercarriage.

“I mean,” Sam struggled to explain. “You’ve only had control over Tony’s body for a few minutes at a time. You’ve been, uh, out for hours now.”

Dean shot him a sideways look before turning his attention back on the road. “The kid let me out.”

“Um.”

“He knew you’d need help, and that you wouldn’t let him give it.”

“Fuck,” Sam swore, turning to look at him. If that was true, Tony had summoned Dean, forced the personality out of his own subconscious in order to save Sam’s life. He felt humbled all of a sudden. Humble and like shit. Damn it Tony, he thought, it’s not worth your life.

“What the hell are you doing, Sam?” Dean’s voice rumbled like the engine of the car used to. “He’s a kid.”

“With you in his head.”

“That’s not the point.” Dean concentrated on driving for a bit, guiding the car onto the almost empty parkway. Though the sun shown, few rush hour commuters ventured out this early. “My head is all swiss cheese. I know I’m missing years. Years Sammy.”

“Dean...”

“What I want to know is what you’ve been up to for the past twenty years.”

“We talked about this Dean...”

“No, you gave me some pansy ass excuse for not going back to school and getting yourself a normal life. Why do you think I did it, Sam?”

“Dean.”

“What are you doing all alone, Sammy? What are you running from?”

Sam wanted to reach out and touch Dean, reassure him. He twisted around to get his right hand on Dean’s thigh. He decided to answer the second question. “Other hunters, mostly.”

“What the hell?”

“Not all of them. Lots come to me for help. Especially when a demon’s involved.” Sam let those words hang in the air. Dean knew as well as he did that there were those who would consider anyone dealing with demons to be marred by the same taint. He closed his eyes again, weary down to his bones. Dean didn’t bother him until they reached the apartment.

Dean got him upstairs and cleaned up. He found the first aid kit under the bed, and pulled out painkillers and muscle relaxants. “You feel any numbness, Sam?” he asked, prodding at Sam’s shoulder blade.

Sam winced. “No. Just sore. Gimme the drugs. I’ve had worse.”

“Fuck.” Dean muttered, handing them over with a bottle of water. Before he could leave, Sam grabbed him with his good hand and pulled Dean down to the bed. “Sam, don’t...”

Sam slid his hand up and cupped Dean’s jaw, running his thumb over his stubbled cheek, relishing in the prickly sensation. Tony tendency to forget to shave resulted in such simple pleasures. “We’re not related now, Dean. Isn’t that what you said?’

“It’s what the kid said.”

“His name is Tony. You’re really not that much older than him.” Sam smiled, then leaned forward to kiss Dean. He half expected those eyes to be brown when he pulled away, but Dean’s hazel-green gaze still watched him.

Sam swallowed. What if Tony couldn’t come back?

“You’re hurt. Sleep, Sam. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Wish I wasn’t screwed up,” he muttered as Dean tucked him into the bed and climbed in behind him. He held Dean’s hand around his waist, glad for the weight of it over him. Maybe they’d sleep without dreams tonight.

***

The piercing shriek broke the heaviness of the dream with a sudden shock. Dean opened his eyes and groaned. He remembered now, in living color burnt against the inside of his eyes. No wonder Sammy didn’t want this hunt.

Didn’t want Sam waking up with that in his head. Dean dug through his jacket and found the damn phone. He made a mental note to change that ring after this call. Damn annoying.

“Hello,” he rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up. What time was it anyway? They had staggered in around four A.M. He felt like he could sleep another twelve hours.

“Tony? It’s Gina.”

“Who?”

He could hear the silence down the line.

“Your sister?”

Oh, crap. He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts to stop jumbling around. His dreams had been full of Madison and gunfire and Sam’s tears. He needed to be here, twenty years later.

“Gina,” Tony said, still not sure he was entirely Tony. Dean had been in his brain for so long, he didn’t know where he ended and Tony began. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you all right, Tone? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“I just woke up,” he said. Gina would understand. He’d done it to her before, after all.

“It’s 3:30 in the afternoon.”

He rolled his eyes. “Trust me, it was a long night.”

“I bet.” her voice dropped to a low register.

“Oh god, don’t even go there.”

“If you can drag yourself out of bed, can you go pick up Rosa at school? I had a flat and I’m at Dad’s waiting for Terry to patch up my tire.”

“What’s she doing now? Debate team or something?” He started pulling clean clothes out of his pack, couldn’t show up in a blood covered shirt, now could he?

“Literary magazine. She knows you’re coming.”

“Thanks for, you know, asking me first.”

“Just don’t leave her hanging, Tony. See you at dinner.”

“Right.” He ended the call, absently changing the ring before shutting his phone. He sat back on the bed and ran a hand through Sam’s hair. “Sammy?”

Sam stirred in his sleep, opening his eyes slowly. “Dean?”

“Not quite sure,” Tony said honestly. “I gotta go pick up Rosa. I’ll call you later. Rest up. Take care of that arm.”

Sam caught his hand before Tony could draw away. He laced their fingers together and squeezed. Tony swallowed. “I’ll be fine. Do what you need to do.”

Tony kissed Sam, carefully, mindful of his injuries. He worried there was an injury he missed. When he got back, he’d have to convince Sam to at least go to the free clinic and get checked out. “Bye.”

He left the apartment, double checking the salt lines and making sure he locked the door before he left. Tony had the Impala unlocked and the engine started before he realized what he had done. He stopped, hands on the steering wheel for a moment. Then, carefully, he shut off the car, got out and closed the door. Tony rested his hand on the shiny black hood, feeling oddly comforted by the touch.

His Civic seemed too small when he finally got in. Still, his fingers found the grooves in the steering wheel and the car responded to his commands, though he moved almost as if on auto pilot. Tony still didn’t feel quite right. He remembered all of last night. He remembered sitting in the car watching as Sam walked down the darkening path. If Sam had trusted Tony, trusted Tony like he trusted Dean, he wouldn’t be sitting in the Impala, useless, waiting for Sam to come back. If only he really could be Dean, just long enough to give Sam the backup he needed.

And Dean had come out with a vengeance, as if Tony’s hope had been an engraved invitation.

A horn drew his attention back to the road and Tony swerved to avoid hitting the car in the lane in front of him. Damn it, he needed to keep his mind on the road. He gritted his teeth and focused on driving. He’d have time later to sort out how much of Dean had stuck around in his brain.

The high school still had plenty of activity for being so late in the afternoon. Tall yellow buses pulled away, loaded with the basketball team. Students walked through the parking lot, some with backpacks loaded on their backs. Others sped past on their skateboards and bicycles. Tony swung into one of the visitor spaces near the front of the school.
 
Rosa wasn’t near the entrance and Tony mentally groaned. Gina hadn’t told him where to pick her up. He pulled the door open. He nodded at the security guard near the door before signing in. The guard must be new, he wasn’t one Tony recognized from when he went there.

If he remembered correctly, the literary magazine worked out of the English wing upstairs. Tony strolled the hallway, looking around for any teachers who’d remember him. He waved to Mr. Craig, his old geometry teacher, who looked busy tutoring in the math resource center. There were a few other club meetings going on, but the place seemed quiet.

Upstairs he got to the English classroom he thought Rosa might be in, only to find it empty, notes scratched on the board about things like font and editing. Tony pulled out his phone as he left, checking each classroom as he walked. He should have called as soon as he set foot in the building.

“No, please!” He heard a muffled scream that had him dropping the phone and running down the hall.

What he saw had his blood boiling hot in his veins.

Inside another empty classroom, the door half ajar, his littlest sister was backed into a corner, crowded there by a much larger teen. He had his hands on her arms, pushing her back, his thigh pressing up between her legs. “C’mon Rosie...”

“Get off,” she bit out.

He put a hand over her mouth.

And Tony slammed the door open with a bang, storming across the room to drag the boy off of her by the back of his collar. He threw the kid against the wall, happy at the sound of the crack that resulted. A scarlet curtain dropped over his eyes, all he could see was red.

“Tony!” Rosa cried out behind him.

He ignored her, curling his hand into a fist and slamming it into the little bastard’s face. “If you ever come near my sister again, I’ll kill you,” he shouted as he continued to rain blows against the kid’s face. He registered the teen trying to hold his hands up and protect his head. Too little too late, he thought, noticing the blood on his knuckles for the first time.
 
They they were dragging him off the scumbag and Tony wanted to shrug them off. Nobody would hurt his sister. Not if he could help it.

Then Rosa was in his arms, tears in her eyes. “Shh,” he whispered, just holding her.

***


Part 6


Gray clouds hung heavy in the sky, nearly touching the faded ocean waves that crashed to the worn sand. Sam hadn’t expected to be spending another winter on the boardwalk. He had forgotten all about the gloomy skies of December. The sun couldn’t quite poke through the foreboding gloom.

Sam sighed and moved away from the glass door. He had a cup of coffee in his good hand, his other arm encased in a sling. After a day of intense pain he’d finally dragged himself to the free clinic downtown. He’d been out of it for a while, only opening the shop this morning.

He hadn’t spoken to Tony since the hunt. He’d woken with dreams of Madison behind his eyes and knew Tony must have finally had that dream. Bile rose in his throat and he had barely made it to the bathroom in time. Tony could have died; Sam could have died. The entire hunt was a massive cock-up from the beginning.

It was only the latest event that told Sam it was more than time he moved on. The back of his mind itched with that sixth sense he had learned to harness over the past twenty years. If only he knew what to do about Tony, about the specter of Dean in his brain. Sam couldn’t leave Tony alone with Dean’s memories, not till he knew how and why this was happening. The answers hadn’t magically appeared in Bobby’s books or Dad’s journal, or anything he had come to rely on in his life.

The door swung open, the motion sensor chiming. Tony stood in the doorway beneath a heavy winter coat, holding a plate in his hand. “Hey, Sam. I, uh, brought you a funnel cake.”

Sam smiled, he couldn’t help smiling around Tony. “How romantic?”

Tony smiled and entered the shop, putting the paper plate on the counter, the greasy treat already soaking through the paper. He tore a piece of it off and popped it into his mouth. Sam gave in and tore off a piece for himself, swirling the dough in powdered sugar before tasting it.

“You went to the hospital?” Tony gestured to the sling.

“The clinic. I should be back to normal in a week.”

Tony winced. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I fucked it up from the beginning.” Sam reached out with a sticky hand to cup Tony’s cheek. He was surprised when the younger man turned away instead of kissing Sam.

“I guess, you haven’t seen the papers?” Tony started to pace the tiny shop, not looking at Sam.

“Been out of it,” Sam shrugged as best as he could with one shoulder.

“I’m in a bit of trouble, Sam.” Tony swallowed. He stopped pacing and leaned against the glass window, away from Sam. “I caught some guy trying to hurt my sister and I beat the crap out of him. Little fucker is pressing charges.”

For a moment, Sam thought he saw a flash of green in Tony’s gaze. He stalked across the room and gathered Tony in his free arm, holding him close. Sam breathed in the scent of Tony’s hair, somehow always sea kissed. “Did you think I’d be mad at that?”

“I was just so angry. He hurt my little sister. I wanted to kill him. Sam, I don’t, I never hurt anyone like that before.”

Sam heard the unspoken ‘but Dean has.’ “Tony...”

“I put a fifteen year old kid in the hospital. It’s made all the local papers.”

“I always knew you were an overachiever.”

Tony snickered against his chest. He punched Sam’s good arm. “Stop it, it’s not funny.”

Sam pulled away slightly, just so he could bend and kiss Tony. He deepened the kiss, needing to feel more. They had only been apart for a few days and already Sam missed it. How hard would it be to let go?

Tony moaned deep in his throat, fisting Sam’s shirt in his hand. “I can’t. God, Sam, I want to go upstairs with you right now, stay in bed until next week.”

“We can do that.”

“I have to go meet with my lawyer.” Tony pulled away. “My dad is so pissed at me. Now he had to call in a favor from his second cousin Luciano. He hates that guy.”

Sam let him go, his arms feeling empty. “I want to help you, Tony.”

“Well, that law degree would have come in handy.” Tony looked away.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed.

He hated watching Tony leave. Sam clenched his hand into a fist. Maybe, maybe there was something he could do. First he needed to find a newspaper.

***

Tony got home with just enough time to change into his suit. He ran back downstairs, doing up his tie as he sped through the living room. A horn beeped from the outside, Dad was waiting.

“Tony.”

He turned at the sound of Gina’s voice. She and Rosa stood on the landing, both looking solemn, their faces pinched and worn. He walked back to them. “Yeah?”

Rosa threw her arms around him, hugging him tight and wrinkling his shirt. “Don’t care what they say, you’re my hero.”

He patted her gently, smiling down at her. She was safe, that was all that mattered. When he looked up Gina still looked grim. He reached out with a hand and she grasped it.  “I’ll be fine.”

The horn blared again and Tony drew away from them both. He cleared his throat, choking on spit. I’d do it again, he thought. Give that son of a bitch what for. And he didn’t care if it was Dean’s skills, Dean’s rage, Dean who had influenced the entire incident. Tony would do it again to keep his sister safe. He’d do it to keep any member of his family safe.

He slid into the passenger seat, straightening his jacket under the seat belt. His dad sat silent in the driver’s seat. Tony fiddled with his tie, not knowing what to do with his hands. He had never had trouble just talking to his dad before.

“Aren’t you happy that Rosa is okay?” Tony finally burst out, unable to take it anymore.

His father let out a long breath, not looking away from the road. “Of course I am. I’m worried about you, kiddo.”

Tony looked out the window at the dreary sky. Rain threatened, but never fell. He almost hoped it would snow, but it was far too early for that, not cold enough at all. “I just got so mad when I saw him...”

Dad shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about. This is just the icing on the cake, Anthony.”

Oh, man, his dad resorted to his full name, Tony was in so much trouble. “Dad.”

“You’ve been hanging out with this new friend on the boardwalk. All the time. You miss family dinners, you go off on weekend trips and you come back with bruises...”

“That’s not how it looks...”

“You’re not acting like yourself, Tony. You know that. When have you ever in your life punched someone?”

“Not this life,” Tony murmured to himself.

“I want to help you, son.” His dad looked over now. “What have you gotten yourself involved with? Is it...is it drugs?”

“God, Dad. No.” Tony couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. He knew his dad loved him and only wanted the best for him. Dean whispered in his mind, that’s not my Dad. Stop it, he thought, go away. “Maybe,” he said hesitantly, “It would be good if you met him. Then you’d know it has nothing to do with drugs or, or anything like that.”

His dad let out a long sigh. “I was hoping you were going to say it had something to do with a girl.”

Tony wanted to laugh. “No. I’m sorry.”  They pulled onto the main drag of downtown Oceanville. All the streetlights were strung with sparkly garland. “Can I bring him to Christmas Eve dinner?” he blurted.

“That’s a family thing,” Dad protested.

“He doesn’t have any family. He spent Thanksgiving alone.”

“That’s where you snuck those leftovers to?”

Tony closed his eyes, remembering the thrilled look on Sam’s face when he snuck in late that evening, complete with tupperware filled with turkey, veggies, baked ziti and his mom’s apple cobbler. They had camped out in front of the ancient TV in Sam’s apartment, watching cheesy black and white movies while they ate. And then spent the rest of the night in bed.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Fine,” Dad relented. “I’ll let your mother know.”

They swung into the parking lot for the lawyer's office and all conversation ended.

***

Sam didn’t think it would be so easy. He had found the newspaper articles Tony had talked about, most painting Tony as an overly aggressive bully who had overacted to the situation and put a child in the hospital. A rare few hailed him as protector of a young girl’s virtue. None listed the name of the teen he had beaten half to death.

So he had just gone to the only local hospital and started chatting up the nurses. With his sling, he passed himself off as coming from an appointment. When he had one of them alone, under the pretext of flirting, he put his hand on her bare arm and then pushed with his mind and asked for the room of the boy from the article.

She gave it without hesitation. With one last squeeze, he told her to forget she saw him. Then he took the elevator up to the fifth floor. Sam walked through the hallways, having long ago mastered the appearance that he belonged somewhere when he really didn’t.

The door to 507 was ajar and Sam peaked in before he went inside. All he could see was a figure wrapped up on the single bed. No roommate. And no visitors. Sam pushed the door open and strode inside. He closed it carefully behind him, dragging a chair in front of it so it wouldn’t open before he was ready.

The teen looked so innocent, face sickly pale against the hospital sheets. Dark bruises colored his face, metal visible where they had wired the broken jaw shut. Don’t feel sorry for him, Sam thought. He threatened Tony’s sister, he threatened Tony.

Sam’s good hand shot out and gripped the kid by the side of his head. Wide blue eyes opened with shock.

“Listen to me, because I’m only going to say this once,” Sam growled, putting all the mental power into his voice that he could. “You’re going to drop all charges against Tony Del Toro. If your parents don’t want you to, you WILL convince them otherwise. And you will never, ever harm another girl again.” Sam tightened his grip. Then he added one last thing. “You never saw me.”

He let the boy’s head drop back to the bed and turned back to the door. With a wave of his hand the chair slid out of the way and the door popped open. His entire body felt alive, lit with psychic fire. This was dangerous, Sam knew. He had to hold tightly to himself and not give in to the temptation to use any more. He wasn’t that guy.

He made it out of the hospital and back to the boardwalk in record time. Sam didn’t even remember the drive. When he went to open his apartment door, his hands were shaking.

“Freddy!” a voice called.

He turned and waved to May-Ling, his neighbor. She worked at the massage place next to his shop. He liked her far more than the guy who ran the crazy clown booth. She trotted up the steps and looked around warily.

“Listen, Freddy, there was a cop here, asking questions about you.”

Sam stiffened. It was too soon, he had just committed his little act of sabotage. “Do you know why?”

She shook her head. “Just wanted to know about your shop, when you were open, how long you’ve been around, stuff like that.”

Sam relaxed a bit. “He could be looking for a reading.”

She shot him a look that said they both knew better. “You be careful.”

“I will,” he nodded, watching her go.

If he needed any more evidence that he had stayed in one location far too long, this was it. He had a neighbor who cared about what happened to him.

***

Tony rested his head against the brick wall of the lawyer’s office. He stood near the sign that said “Maroni, Feldman, Feldman and Guzman.” Dad’s cousin was the Maroni in the listing and the guy was taking his case for a steal. Tony had left the two of them to catch up, not able to stand the stiff uncomfortable air in the room any longer. Dad really hated that guy and it hurt to watching him groveling like that just to get the lawyer to take on Tony’s case.

He hated having to resort to this. Especially when he still believed he was in the right. The little bastard deserved it. It had felt so satisfying to slam his fists into that guy, get out the frustrations from the hunt, hurt someone who deserved it.

“Hey,” a  said.

Tony opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them. There was a man standing there, holding a cigarette limply in one hand. Probably out for a smoke break. “Am I in your spot?”

The man laughed. He wasn’t much older than Tony, probably around the same age.  Something in his dark eyes made him look older. His dark hair was cropped close to his head and the goatee stood out in black relief against chocolate colored skin. “No, man. Just passing by, y’know.”

Tony nodded like he did.

“You the kid from the papers?”

Oh, lovely, he was a celebrity. “Look,” Tony held up his hands. “I don’t want any trouble.”

The guy flicked his cigarette absently. “Nah, man. You did the right thing. Gave that bastard what he had coming to him.”

Well, that was the first positive reaction he had gotten, other than from Sam. But Sam had to be supportive. He was his brother, uh, boyfriend. Something.

“Some guys, they’re just monsters, you get it?” the guy winked. “They aren’t even human. Anyone who’d hurt a girl? Not a man.”

Something about his words bothered Tony. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. “I don’t think that’s, I mean, he did something wrong. That doesn’t make him evil.”

The guy shook his head. “You’ll see, my man. Some times things are just that simple.”

He tossed the cigarette away and kept walking down the street. Tony frowned as he watched.

***

Bobby’s books had started to take up most of the apartment, as Sam retrieved more and more from storage. Now he knew his time was limited, so he focused on packing them up and shipping them back out to his storage locations. The books were the only thing he couldn’t afford to lose if he had to go back on the road suddenly. Weapons, first aid kit, hell, even the Impala could be replaced. He could get another car. Bobby’s library was priceless.

Sam had kept two books with him, two spell books he hadn’t gone through yet, but he had good feelings about. He send out applications for new credit cards, using his different PO Boxes from across the country. No telling where he would end up next. He kept a duffel bag packed in the trunk of the Impala. Only one other item of value he kept in the apartment, in the end table next to his bed. And soon he would be giving that to its new owner.

“You got your sling off?” Tony’s voice broke into his musings. He stood in the doorway, probably having picked the lock again.

Sam tossed the spell book onto the bed, hoping Tony didn’t notice the sudden lack of books around. “Yesterday. Not my first dislocation, I’m good as new.”

Tony grinned. He looked better than the last time Sam had saw him, confused and sad in the psychic shop downstairs. With an exaggerated motion, he closed the door behind him and locked it. “I think we should celebrate.”

“Oh?” Sam said, “Why’s that?” As if he didn’t know.

Tony pulled off his winter coat, tossing it on the ground. He pulled off his sweatshirt as he stalked across the room, kicking off his sneakers.

“In a hurry?” Sam asked, catching Tony before he could tackle him to the bed. He ran his fingers along the smooth skin of Tony’s upper arms, liking it when Tony shivered at his touch.

“Missed you.” Tony leaned up, opening his mouth for Sam’s kiss. He obliged, sucking onto that full lower lip. Every time he watched Tony speak or smile or laugh, Sam wanted to latch onto that plump lip, suck on it, press his teeth down gently, savoring the sweet taste of his lover. Tony moaned deep in his throat, that sound he made whenever lost in Sam’s touch and the moment.

Sam pulled away long enough to pull off his own shirt. He’d missed Tony just as much. He could only assume that Tony’s presence here meant it was all over, the charges had been dropped and the kid was free. Sam’s powers had finally saved someone he loved.

As he thought it, he stiffened. Tony cocked his head to one side, puzzled. “Oh, Tony,” he said, finally. You deserve better, a better life than this, a better man than me.

“It’s ok, Sam,” Tony said, resting his hands on Sam’s hips, his touch almost ticklish. “I’m gonna be fine. The charges were dropped against me, my dad says you can come to Christmas Eve dinner...”

“What? Did you tell them?” Sam asked, startled.

“Uh, no, you’re still just my friend.” Tony ducked his head. “Don’t think they’re quite ready for that yet.”

Sam laughed. “Guess not.”

Tony moved forward, nuzzling against Sam’s chest, his slightly stubbled jaw rising goose-bumps all over Sam’s skin. “Sam? Can I fuck you?” He blushed a deep red as he spoke.

“Not until you can say ‘fuck’ without blushing,” Sam kissed him on his ever so slightly upturned nose.

Tony made a face and tried to pull away. Sam caught his hands before he got too far and put them back on his skin. “Joke, Tony. Remember, we went over those about, oh a week after we met?”

“Jerk,” Tony said, lips curved in a smile.

“That’s bitch to you,” Sam said. Dean would understand that. He saw Tony’s eyes widen a bit, but Sam took the opportunity to swing him down to the bed.

“Easy, your shoulder...”

“It’s fine.” Sam crawled down Tony’s body, unbuttoning his jeans with a flick of his wrist, sliding the zipper down and pulling out the already hard erection. Ah, to be nineteen again.

Tony turned his head away and fisted his hands in the sheets. “Do it,” he begged.

Sam knew how much Tony liked being sucked. He had spent hours one night, just tormenting him with his tongue and lips, pulling away every time Tony got the least bit close. But this time they had something else on the menu. He placed a long sucking kiss on the tip of Tony’s flushed dick, enough to have his hips rising off the bed before drawing away.

Sam pulled his pants the rest of the way down, leaving them to pool at Tony’s feet. Then he stood and shucked off his own clothes, kicking his jeans somewhere. Their clothes tended to spread out over the apartment whenever they got intimate. Sam still couldn’t find his favorite pair of boxers.

Tony writhed out of his jeans and grabbed the lube from the bedside table. He stared at it in his hand for a moment. Sam touched his wrist. “I’ll show you what to do.”

He nodded and watched as Sam spread himself out on the bed, canting his hips up with a pillow underneath for support. Tony’s face flushed with more than just embarrassment, his eyelids heavy with his desire. Sam fisted his own cock, appreciating the view of his younger lover, strong body with tufts of chest hair, just sitting on the bed, watching Sam.

“You’re incredible,” Tony whispered, settling in between Sam’s spread thighs.

Sam cursed himself for blushing. “Look who’s talking.”

Tony’s hands were dancing up his inner thigh, fingers tentatively touching the entrance to Sam’s body. Sam twitched at the touch, startled. Tony looked up at him, eyes dark. Sam nodded. “Like this...”

He sat up a bit, and guided Tony’s hand with his own, showing him how to circle the muscle a bit before penetrating. Sam swallowed, closing his eyes. Just that one finger felt huge inside him. “More lube,” he choked out, cringing when Tony slipped out then back inside with more slickness to his finger. “Been a while,” he told him. “Bend your finger, up like....oh god yeah...”

Sam didn’t have to give any more directions after that. Tony prepped him as thoroughly as Sam had taught him. Then Tony tucked Sam’s thighs back, hooking him by the back of his knees, a direct mirror of the first time they had done this, when Sam had turned Tony over and fucked deep into him. Sam held on to the headboard with one hand, the other reaching out for Tony as he leaned over, slowly, almost too slowly, sliding into Sam’s body.

They fit together, as they always did, perfect together, hips meeting in their own rhythm moving just as smoothly as when Sam thrust inside Tony. Sam cradled Tony between his legs, his cock hard and heavy between them, not getting nearly enough friction against Tony’s stomach.

Tony had his face buried in Sam’s neck, his body stuttering in his movements. Sam turned his head, seeking blindly for Tony’s lips, needing that connection. They kissed lazily, Tony’s hips almost stilling, losing the rhythm for a moment. Sam cupped Tony’s face between his hands, holding him still as he devoured his mouth.

Tony pulled back and started to thrust hard, hips snapping forward. Sam groaned at the sensation, feeling too full, wanting to come so badly. Tony thrust forward again, hard and stilled, his body flush against Sam’s, so deep it felt like he wasn’t ever coming out. “Sam,” he choked out, eyes wide as he looked down at Sam as he came.

Green eyes looked down at Sam. He groaned. Dean, he thought, oh god, Dean. That pushed him over the edge, setting his orgasm free, ripping it out of him when he wasn’t ready. Too much, he thought, letting Dean sooth him off his high. They curled around each other, ignoring the musty smell of sex in the air, the soiled sheets. Sam held on to that warm living skin, that perfect, loved body. He let Dean’s heartbeat follow him into sleep.

***

Sam remembered this, like the dream of the Striga, watching his child self and not being able to influence the events the followed afterward. Like a spectator to his own life, he could only stand and watch.

Sam didn’t remember this place, a clearing in the woods, two large torches burning around something that could only be an altar. A man stood in the center, arranging items carefully on the altar. Sam willed himself closer and to his surprise, saw Bobby standing there.

Holding the same spell book Sam had saved to read later.

The Impala drove up, throwing dust and dirt up as it stopped. Dean stepped out of it, slamming the door shut. He stood there, hands over the hood of the car, for a few moments, breathing deeply. Then he made his way over to where Bobby had paused in his preparations.

“Hey, Bobby,” Dean said, as if this was everyday, as if this wasn’t the moment that changed everything.

“Dean,” Bobby lit a stick of incense, its heady aroma spreading across the clearing.

“We gonna do this?”

Bobby took the book in hand, clutching it to his chest like a lifeline. “It’s the only way I could find to save your soul.”

“I’m actually not too attached to it,” Dean snorted, ignoring Bobby’s glare. “You tell me what we’re doing here isn’t going to leave Sam dead in the motel.”

“Because you’re not getting out of the deal.” Bobby’s voice was steady, too steady.

“Thought you said you were saving my soul.”

“I’m keeping it out of hell. But it’s a curse, a dark one, older than the demon you made that goddamn deal with. I’ll be binding your soul to the wheel of rebirth. You’ll come back again and again, never resting.”

“So, what, I’ll wake up a frog or a tree?”

“You won’t know,” Bobby said. “You’ll never know.”

Dean looked away for a moment, then he dug inside his jacket and pulled out a few torn out pages. “Can you do this?”

Bobby took the pages, his eyes widening as he looked at them. “Dean, where did you...?”

“Can you bind my soul to Sammy? So when I come back, it’ll bring me to him?”

Bobby snarled, “The whole plan was to keep you out of hell, Dean!”

“What the hell are you saying, Bobby? You don’t think Sam’s good enough to stay out on his own?” Dean’s voice was light, like he didn’t care.

Sam frowned from where he stood, not liking the nonchalance Dean expressed. Then he saw Dean’s hands, clenched tightly at his side, so tight the knuckles were white and blood dripped from his sliced open palms.

“Sam has demon blood,” Bobby said, the words cutting across the silence of the clearing.

Sam didn’t know Bobby knew. He had to tell Dean eventually, over the course of that one last year together. Bobby never questioned Sam afterwards, never brought it up. He never treated Sam any differently.

Dean shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, as long as I’m with Sammy.”

Bobby turned away and Sam realized he was attempting to get himself under control. He gasped at the tears he saw gathering in the older man’s eyes. “You’re one stubborn son of a bitch, Dean Winchester.”

Dean nodded. Not the first time he had heard that, after all.

Bobby walked over to the altar and pulled out a long handled knife, the flickering torchlight reflecting off the sharp blade. This explained why they neatly sidestepped the terms of the deal. Dean still died one year later, his soul would merely be out of Hell’s grasp, bound by this sacrifice, Dean’s blood spilt on this altar. For Sam’s life.

“No,” he whispered, shivering in the night. “Dean. Dean!”

Then he sat straight up in bed, arms akimbo, reaching out, not knowing where he was. “Dean!”

“Sam!” Tony crawled onto his lap, using his nude body to keep Sam pressed against the bed. “God, Sam!”

Sam gathered Tony in his arms, holding him tightly, running his fingers down Tony’s bare back. Like always, he needed to touch, keep Tony near him, exalt in the warm, alive body of his lover. His brother.

They couldn’t pretend anymore, Tony was Dean. He held Dean’s soul, kept it safe from the fires of Hell. Now Sam knew and he couldn’t forget it. No way would he leave Dean here when he left. He’d just have to figure a way to take Dean and Tony both with him.

***

Tony looked at his reflection in the bathroom of Sam’s apartment. His eyes seemed lighter, not their usual dark brown. They weren’t the clear green Sam had said appeared whenever Dean took over.

Took over. What a joke. He was Dean. Or rather, he was just the shell Dean had spilled into. A life lived for twenty years with one purpose in mind, to find Sam. He held onto the sink, closing his eyes. No, he thought. He was more than that. Sam cared about him. His parents loved him, his sisters, they cared too. Tony felt real.

“Are you all right?” He could picture Sam standing outside, his hands against the bathroom door. He would be worried. Sam was the type of guy who worried.

It really shouldn’t be so shocking. The dreams had started long before he ever met Sam. Even then he entertained the thought of reincarnation; it was why Gina had wanted him to meet with a psychic, after all, and not a psychologist. But after meeting Sam and learning that Dean was real, had really lived, Tony had believed Sam’s constant assurance of “you’re not my brother.” Maybe that’s what Sam needed, what Dean needed to cross the line between brother and lover.

“I’m not sure,” he called back. Tony Del Toro looked back at him from his reflection, but he wasn’t just Tony. Not anymore.

“Tony? Dean?” Sam’s voice came hesitantly through the thin wooden door.

Tony took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Sam had pulled his jeans back on, which made Tony feel more than a little naked in his boxers. “This shouldn’t be a surprise,” he said, “we knew there was a reason Dean was in my head.”

Sam touched the side of his face gently, lifting it. Tony didn’t realize he had looked down, looked away. “I’m sorry.”

Tony snorted. “Why are you sorry? Apparently I chose this.”

“Dean.”

“And I’m Dean,” Tony pushed past him and moved to sit on the bed. “Aren’t you glad? You’ve got your brother back.”

Sam sat next to him. His hand hovered over Tony’s back for a moment, but he seemed to pick up on Tony not wanting to be touched. “I would rather you had the chance for a normal life. That I could take Bobby’s spell and make you forget, make you just be Tony. Go to school. Have a family, get a job.”

“Not without you,” Tony said firmly, lacing his fingers with Sam’s. “That’s the one thing he and I both want, no exceptions.”

“You deserve better.” Tony could almost taste the bitterness in Sam’s voice.

“Who did that to you?” he wondered. “Who made you feel you weren’t worth it?”

“Twenty years alone,” Sam said, his voice raspy. “Without Dean. Being hunted by those who thought I was a monster. Watching Jo have a family.” He shrugged. “Pick one.”

“You can have a family now,” Tony said firmly. No matter what, he wanted Sam by his side. “You’re coming for Christmas Eve.”

“You might not be able to have both,” Sam said softly.

Tony knew what he meant. Sam thought he would have to choose between his family and Sam. “Why not?” he asked.

Sam looked away and there was something he was hiding there. “I want to give you something.”

“It’s not even Christmas yet,” Tony tried to joke.

He watched Sam get up and kneel in front of the end table, pulling out the drawer and turning it over, knocking its contents everywhere. Underneath the bottom of the drawer he had taped a small package. Someone searching the room wouldn’t have found it right away. Sam turned back and placed the package on Tony’s lap.

Tony slid his fingers under the clear tape, pulling apart the rough brown paper. Inside he found tissue paper and once he pulled that away, he saw a long cord. His amulet, he thought, and his ring hanging next to the medallion. Sam had kept these safe for twenty years.

“Sam,” he said. “Are you sure?”

Sam took the cord from his fingers and placed it around Tony’s neck, covering the amulet and ring with his palm when he finished, hand warm against Tony’s chest. “They belong to you.”

Tony closed his eyes. It felt right. Sam at his side. Together they could face anything.

***

Sam had closed the shop and boarded up the large glass windows. He put a sign “closed for the holidays” on the front door, but knew he would not be coming back here.

Jo had called early that Christmas Eve morning. He answered the phone sleepily, worn out from pouring through the last spell book. He had no idea where Bobby had acquired it. Unlike most of his texts on demonology, this had a different origin. It appeared to be a journal from a British scholar traveling in India. The scholar had recorded his experiences of ancient rituals, the words more powerful once written. Sam wondered how many hands had held it.

“Sam,” Jo’s voice had him sitting up in bed. “You’ve got to get out of there.”

“I should have been gone,” he griped. “What’s wrong?”

“The Walkers. They’re in your part of town, they’ve been in town for weeks.”

“Which ones?” he asked.

“The children. I haven’t had a lead on Gordon in years. His kids don’t know how to operate under the radar.”

He promised Tony he’d be there tonight, at his parents for Christmas Eve dinner. It was an Italian thing, Tony had said, to celebrate the night before, instead of the actual day. Sam rubbed his eyes. “I’m packed,” he told Jo, but not that he was staying for one more night.

“Good.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said sweetly down the line. “Give Will a silver blade from me, will ya?”

“Sam, you even think of corrupting my son like that...”

“Fine, fine, a shotgun then.”

She laughed. “Come here when you can. We’d be happy to put you up.”

“Sure,” he lied into the phone.

Not again, he thought. He wasn’t going to put Jo’s family in danger again. He wasn’t his father, hell he wasn’t even enough like Dean. He had hung up the phone, showered and started making his preparations for the rest of the day.

He would leave tonight, after the dinner. And, if he was lucky, Dean would be with him.

***

Tony’s parents’ home matched all the houses on the road, strung with bright Christmas lights, obnoxiously bright. Sam parked the Impala on the street, not wanting to get caught up in the sea of cars currently swarming the driveway. He felt grouchy, angry at having his hand forced, knowing that he would have only one chance to ask Tony to come with him.

And after his words about Tony living a normal life he felt like the worst kind of hypocrite. He wanted Tony to stay with him, he needed both of them, both Tony and Dean at his side, watching his back. He wanted his lover, and his brother back. His only scrap of decency was that he would allow Tony to make the choice himself.

He grabbed the brown paper bag he had shoved in the back seat and made his way up the front path, making a face at the animated reindeer in the front yard.  A light activated as he walked, probably a motion detector. He rang the bell on the front door, then knocked, avoiding the large green wreath.

The door swung open to a familiar face. “Sam.”

“Gina,” he said with a smile.

She reached out and tugged on his coat, drawing him inside the warmth and giving him a half hug. Surprised, he hugged her back. “I brought your parents some wine. Tony said that would be good.”

“Sure,” she took the bag from him. “Stay away from Uncle Lou’s homemade wine if you expect to drive home tonight.”

He grinned down at her. “Gotcha.”

The room swarmed with people, gathered in groups, talking and laughing. Food platters seemed to sprout on every available surface. He saw chips and dip, vegetables and tall plates of cookies and pastries he had no name for.

Tony came running down the stairway, dressed in an ugly red sweater decorated with a light up Christmas tree. Sam laughed as he saw him. Tony grinned back, and seemed to have eyes only for Sam. He came forward and slapped Sam’s back. “I’m glad you came. Did Gina introduce you?”

“Oh, god no,” Gina said. “I’m not doing your dirty work for you.”

“You know I’ll just get Rosa to do it.”

“Be my guest.” Gina gave a hand wave. “She’ll eat it up.”

Tony snagged the arm of a girl walking by. “Rosa, this is Sam. Introduce him to everyone?”

She didn’t look like Tony or Gina, Sam thought, finally meeting Tony’s youngest sister for the first time. Rosa seemed so young, at first, grinning up at him with a happy smile. The smile didn’t quite reach her pale eyes.

“Hey everybody!” she jumped up onto a chair. “This is Sam, Sam this is everybody!”

Sam waved as attention was suddenly all drawn to him. Tony rolled his eyes and dragged Sam into the crowd of people. “I always have to do this myself.”

He met Tony’s Uncle Lou, short for Luigi and his wife Sara, their twin boys, Dominick and Frank -- they were fraternal twins, although they apparently did everything together.   Then he met the other Tony Del Toro, Tony’s cousin who everyone just called Junior because he was born before Tony and named after their mutual grandfather, even though his dad was named Michael. His Aunt Rosa, who little Rosa was named after, was there with her husband Guiseppe and their three children, ranging in ages from 5 to 14.

“You got all that?” Tony asked, leading Sam away from the crowd and into the kitchen. “My dad is cutting the chestnuts and my mom and Aunt Dora are working on dinner...”

He met Tony’s father for the first time. Sam’s palms were sweaty and he rubbed them on his pants before shaking his hand. The elder Del Toro resembled his son, with the strong brow and same jaw line. Most of the delicacy in Tony’s features came from his mother. She smiled when Sam was introduced.

“Call me Barbara,” she said, “Or Mom if you prefer.”

He coughed at that. Tony’s father still gave him a hard look. He hadn’t said anything beyond hello and nice to meet you. Sam had a feeling he didn’t think it was very nice to meet Sam, not at all.

Sam ended up helping arrange the long fold out tables for dinner. The best way to win over people, he had learned a long time ago, was to appear helpful. And this was something he could do.

“We’re not relegated to the kids’ table?” he teased Tony as they arranged chairs along the line.

“We haven’t had a kids’ table since I was five,” Tony retorted. He took a chair from Sam, letting their fingers brush as he did so. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Sam said.

“Oh,” Tony whispered, “Don’t bring up politics. My uncle is a sworn Republican, Dad’s a Democrat. Last time one of Gloria’s boyfriends brought up the election and they didn’t speak for months.”

“Gotcha.”

They settled down to dinner, Sam tucked in between Tony and Gina, thankfully. He really wouldn’t have known what to say to any of Tony’s other relatives. The appetizers came out, huge trays laden with smoked sausage, olives, cheeses and other things Tony had to explain to him.

“Don’t eat too much,” Gina warned and four courses later, Sam figured out why. He thought the baked ziti was the main dish, and didn’t account for the trays of various fish dishes being brought out.

“You have to eat seven different kinds,” Rosa told him, passing him a plate over Gina’s seat.

He burped. “I’ll try.”

Conversation continued around him, getting louder and more animated as the wine began to flow. Sam remembered Gina’s warning and stayed away from the homemade wine.

“So what did that bastard Luciano have to do to get those charges dropped?” the voice of one of Tony’s uncles carried over the table.

Sam saw Tony wince. He slid his hand on Tony’s thigh under the table, hidden by the long checked table cloth.

Tony’s father shrugged. “He didn’t do a goddamn thing.”

“Anthony, watch your language,” Tony’s mother slapped his arm. “There are children around.”

“Did you have Louie rough ‘em up?” the other uncle asked.

“Uncle Lou’s a cop,” Tony whispered.

Sam felt himself pale. Lou hadn’t reacted when introduced to Sam, but Sam hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Had Lou been the officer snooping around the shop, trying to find out Sam’s secrets? Was Tony’s dad the kind of father to ask his brother to snoop on his son’s strange new friend?

Sam had a sinking feeling the answer was yes.

“So, Sam,” Tony’s mother said, “Tony says you work on the boardwalk, what is it you do?”

 Oh, now that was a difficult question. “I run a store,” he said, trying not to lie. “It’s more busy in the summer, but everything is like that except for the arcades.”

Tony’s father fixed his slightly inebriated gaze on Sam. His faced was flushed. “How old are you, Sam?”

Oh, not the question he wanted to answer.

“Dad, c’mon,” Tony interrupted, “Stop interrogating the guy.”

“When are we going to open presents?” Rosa burst into the conversation. The five year old squealed in assent.

“Not till after dessert, you know that Rosa.”

Sam found himself liking Tony’s sisters. And he found himself disbelieving there could be any more food left to eat after the feast he had just consumed.

Later, after the plates were cleared away, Tony led Sam outside through the sliding glass doors of the kitchen onto the deck in the back yard. Sam appreciated the gesture, needing to get away from the heat inside, and the constant pressure of being surrounded by people. He had gotten out of the habit and felt uncomfortable, knowing that all eyes were on him.

Sam gripped the railing, staring out at the backyard. He wished for snow, would have liked to see the brown grass and wilted trees blanketed in beautiful pure whiteness. “I have to tell you something.”

“Sam?” Tony joined him by the railing, one hand braced on Sam’s back.

“The reason the guy dropped the charges against you.” Sam focused on the worn wood at his fingertips, not looking back. “I visited him in the hospital and used my mind thing on him.”

Tony dropped his hand from Sam’s back. He turned and hopped up on the railing, pulling on Sam’s shoulder to get him to look at Tony. “Hey. Man, I’m touched. I know how you feel about your mind thing.”

Sam put his hand over Tony’s, meeting the younger man’s gaze. “I’d do anything for you, you know that right?”

“Within reason, Sam,” Tony whispered. “I don’t want to hear about any deals on your end.”

Sam shook his head. He knew better. After losing Dean and Dad he promised himself he would never do that same thing. Not that he had ever found anyone he cared enough about to be willing to sell his soul for. Until now.
 
“I’m leaving town,” Sam blurted. “And I want you to come with me.”

Tony blinked. “What?”

Sam lifted his hand to touch Tony’s cheek, bringing their heads together, foreheads meeting. “I have to get back on the road. Things are catching up with me. I know I said I wanted you to live a normal life but...” Sam swallowed. “I want you with me.”

“Do you want Tony or Dean?” Tony asked. He didn’t seem surprised, asked the question with nothing in his dark eyes but curiosity.

“I want you, whatever you’ll give me,” Sam replied.

“Oh, Sam, you’ve always asked for too little,” Tony shifted, just a bit, tilted his head so they were kissing, lips meeting and clashing, devouring each other with all the intensity of the moment.

They forgot the glass door behind them. That is until a crashing noise alerted them. Sam sprang away from Tony, his heart thudding a racket in his chest. Tony’s mother stood in the doorway, a shattered casserole dish at her feet.

That started the beginning of hell breaking loose. Tony’s father happened to be behind her and while Barbara Del Toro might have kept silent, her husband started to yell.

Sam helped Barbara clean up the broken dish, wincing at the shouting match. Tony had gotten to the “I’m an adult and it’s my life” portion of the fight and it all seemed familiar. Sam didn’t expect to be on this side of it thought. Now he knew how Dean felt, but he had no right to come between Tony and his father.

He put the pieces of shattered china in the trash, looking up to meet Tony’s mother’s eyes. “I should go,” he said. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

She looked away, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. “I should have known, the way he talked about you.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, because he was. He walked away from her.

Gina held out his coat and he ducked out the door, feeling the eyes of every single member of the extended Del Toro family upon him.

“Sam!” Tony cried.

Sam turned from halfway down the path back to the Impala. He waited while Tony ran to catch up with him.

“I just, I just need to talk to him. Make him understand,” Tony pleaded.

“You know that might not happen.”

Tony looked away. “Come back tomorrow morning. Can you do that? And, and if I’m ready, I’ll go with you.”

Sam nodded, it was all he could do.

***

Tony came back into his childhood home, not expecting the silence as all eyes were on him. He swallowed and moved past them, taking the steps two at a time up to his room. His father followed.

“We haven’t finished, Tony.”

“I’m finished, Dad,” Tony said, his hand on the doorknob to his bedroom. “I’m sorry I’m not the son you wanted.”

“Tony, would you listen to yourself? What has that man done to you?”

“He hasn’t done anything.” That was true, this all started before he met Sam. If his parents hadn’t been too blind to notice they would have been able to see the changes in Tony a long time ago now.

“What do you even know about him, anyway? He’s twice your age and he’s a criminal, I had Lou check him out...”

“What?” Tony’s head whipped around so fast he felt dizzy. “You did what?”

“Tony, I want what’s best for you...”

What’s best for me isn’t getting Sammy caught by the cops, Dean thought. He knew the shift must be obvious by his face, because Tony’s father stepped back, his eyes widening. Dean pushed the door open, he knew he couldn’t speak to Tony’s father. Not now, maybe not ever. He wouldn’t tear the links Tony kept to his family, even though he felt nothing towards these people. If they stood between him and Sam...they were nothing.

***

He heard his family coming home from midnight mass at around one. Tony rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, clenching the handle of his knife with one hand. He had lain awake until he heard the front door close, the hushed whispers as his sisters got ready for bed. Tony still didn’t know what he was going to do, but his eyes grew heavy, the stress from earlier finally catching up with him. He sank into a deep sleep.

Only to be awakened, who knew how much later, by a hand over his mouth.

Tony woke up swinging, but whoever had crept into his bedroom had training, met him blow for blow. He reached for his knife, but got cold clocked on the side of the head with something hard. Disoriented, he went down, one final blow to the side of his head knocking him out completely.

“Tony, Tony!”

He snapped his head up at Gina’s urgent voice. Tony tried to move his arms, but found he couldn’t. He opened his eyes and groaned. Someone had bound his arms around the back of one of his mom’s dining room chairs. Gina was tied up right next to him, his parents on the couch, also bound with thick ropes. And Rosa...Rosa was across the room, being held at gunpoint by a tall woman Tony had never seen before.

She looked like a hunter, he thought, or a soldier. Cargo pants, a black t-shirt, and weapons strapped to her body completed the look. Her black hair was braided tightly to her skull in rows, and her dark eyes looked familiar somehow.

Then he saw the man at the front door, with a familiar smirk and a shotgun in his hands. Tony hadn’t forgotten the stranger he had met downtown weeks ago. The entire encounter had unsettled him, and he had a sinking suspicion he knew what this was. These were the hunters looking for Sammy.

“Glad you could join us, Tony,” he said.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, wincing at the pounding in his head.

“Your boyfriend never mentioned us? I’m hurt, Tony, really.” He stalked across the room, till he stood right by Rosa and the woman who kept the gun on her.

Tony’s heart thumped loudly in his chest. Fuck. He hated being right. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

“Tony, what’s going on? Who are these people?” His father hissed from the couch.

“We’re not the bad guys,” the woman said.

“You’re just hunting Sam,” Tony snarled. “He hasn’t done a damn thing to you.”

The man snorted. “He really hasn’t mentioned us. Leon Walker.” He gestured to the girl. “My sister Jazz.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be related to Gordon Walker?” Tony asked slowly, the pounding from his heart bottoming somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach.

Leon grinned. “Now my daddy you know.”

Just not in the way you think, Tony thought.  A second look at the girl revealed she wasn’t much older than Tony himself. “My family has nothing to do with this. You can let them go...”

“Cute.” Leon said. “This your phone?” he held out Tony’s phone. They must have searched his room. Maybe found the knife, the gun in his duffel. Tony gritted his teeth.

“He’s not stupid,” he said. “He is not going to come running in to save me.”

Leon smirked, flipped the phone open and hit the phonebook. “Let’s see, how many Sammy’s do you know?”

Tony cringed. He cursed the impulse that put Sam into the memory that way. Why didn’t he use some sense and put in an assumed name? “I’m not going to tell him to come!” he shouted.

Leon ignored him and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello Sammy,” he said into the phone. “Who do you think this is?”

Tony strained against the ropes binding him, trying to pull his hands out of their bindings. His skin scraped against the rough fibers. “No...”

“I’ve got your little boyfriend, oh and the rest of his lovely family. Yeah, yeah, you’ll kill me, you haven’t done it yet, Winchester. See you in five.” Leon closed the phone with a snap. 

“Tony, I thought you said this didn’t involve drugs,” his father said.

Tony choked. He didn’t know whether his father was serious or not. “Oh, I didn’t tell you about the mob ties?” he threw back, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. Sam wasn’t stupid, he wouldn’t just rush in here, guns blazing. Sam’s words from earlier echoed in his mind: ‘I’d do anything for you, you know that right?’

“Look,” Gina broke in, “Can’t we talk about this? You haven’t even said what you wanted...” She was looking at Rosa. Tony felt a spark of guilt, he needed to get Rosa away from that gun.

“We want Sam Winchester,” Jazz said. “We want him off-guard and panicking over his boyfriend. And then we’re going to put him out of his misery.”

“You said you weren’t bad guys,” Rosa said, her voice trembling only slightly.

“We kill monsters, little girl,” Leon said. “And Winchester’s a monster.”

“We’re not monsters,” Gina spat out. “What the hell is your excuse now?”

“If you’re good, you’ll live,” Leon snapped out. He walked over to the wall and flipped all the lights off. They sat in darkness, the only illumination from the Christmas lights outside, creeping in through the curtains.

Tony wondered how long it would take for Sam to come back from the boardwalk. He wondered if he would speed, if they would all hear the Impala as it entered the driveway. No, he thought, Sam wouldn’t. He knew better, he had to.

Now would be a really good time for Dean to take over, he thought. The memory that flashed behind his eyeballs didn’t assuage him, he remembered being bound and helpless, waiting for Sam to save himself from Walker’s trap. His head snapped up. “You don’t have any grenades set up, do you?”

Silence, then only, “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Great. Now he had something else to worry about.

The front door creaked open, slowly, squeaking in a way it never had for a long as Tony lived there. They all looked at it, expectantly, Leon aiming his shotgun right for it. The motion detector light went off in the front yard, illuminating the living room with its brightness. When no one appeared, Leon glanced over at Jazz and she nodded.

He walked out the front door, gun cocked and ready to fire.

Jazz pushed Rosa down. “Sit with your folks. Don’t move unless you want a bullet to the brain.”  She kept her weapon trained on all of them, glancing to the front door every so often.

The only reason Tony heard the glass door open was because he was listening for it. He didn’t expect Jazz to go flying across the room, the gun clattering somewhere. Sam appeared behind him, started cutting the ropes binding him without saying a word. Before he could finish, Leon appeared in the doorway and fired over both of their heads. Sam dropped the knife and stood, hand splayed before him, sending Leon against the wall.

He walked over to him, rage obvious in the tension in his shoulders. Sam pulled his glock from behind his back. “I won’t make the same mistake this time, Walker.”

“Neither will I, Winchester,” Leon gasped, having trouble breathing from the pressure of Sam’s powers binding him to the wall.

Sam dropped the gun, his fingers like rubber. He fell to the ground, clutching his head.

“Sam!” Tony gasped.

“What,” Sam choked out.

Jazz stumbled to her feet. “You haven’t met our brother Wes.”

Tony looked at the teen standing on the landing of the stairs. He hadn’t seen the boy before, they must have been hiding him upstairs. He looked young, Rosa’s age maybe. He stood, hand on the railing, eyes almost golden in the light still streaming in from the open front door.

“He’s a psychic?” Sam asked, turning his head. Tony saw crimson rivers of blood seeping from his nose.

Leon lifted himself from the wall, hunting around for his shotgun. “He’s something. He’s enough to finish you off.”

Sam directed his next yell up at Wes. “You’re no different from me. How long will they use you before they decide you’re a monster too?”

“I’ve never killed anyone with my gifts,” Wes spoke for the first time, his voice different from his siblings, slower, more precise.

Sam clutched his head again, groaning in pain.

You’re about to! Tony thought. He pulled at his ropes and was startled when they came loose. He looked behind himself to find Rosa kneeling there with Sam’s knife. She had cut him free when everyone’s attention turned to Sam. He took the knife from her, checked its weight, gripped it by its tip and hurled it at the boy on the landing.

The knife struck him in the center of the chest and Wes tumbled back.

“No!” Jazz turned and Tony ran after her, tackling her to the ground. He could hear Sam and Leon fighting, Sam struggling for control of the shotgun.

The girl had one hell of a right hook, and he had to pull his attention back to the fight. He didn’t have any problems hitting a girl, especially one who had tried to kill Sammy. Jazz tried to roll them and he let her, using the force of her own movement to slam her head against the edge of the coffee table. Dazed, she feel back, losing her grip on him.

“Tell Daddy Dean Winchester says hello.” He slammed her head again, appeased when her eyes fluttered shut.

A crashing noise had him up and turning his attention back to Sam and Leon. Rosa had hefted one of her mother’s crystal vases and knocked Leon in the head. He dropped to the floor, as boneless as his sister.

Sam stopped, breath coming in deep gulps, blood smeared on his face. He looked like hell. “You all right?” he asked Rosa.

She nodded.

“Go untie your parents and Gina,” Sam said. He tried to catch his breath, but his hand shook as he raised it. “Dean?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. Everything looked different, the house familiar and not. His hands felt bruised and achy. The people staring at him, they were family and yet...there was Sam. Sam he knew. Sam he needed. Sam, who he had possibly just killed for. “Sam?”

“It’s okay.” Sam moved fast, holding on to his shoulders, grounding him. “You have a bag ready?”

He nodded.

“Go get it, we’ll get out of here.”

Sam turned to the others, speaking as he ran upstairs, stepping over the unmoving boy on the landing.  He didn’t know what Sam said, couldn’t imagine anything that would make it better.

They had gone through his stuff. His gun and knife were not where he left them. After a minute of hunting, he gave up, zipped the duffel and carted it back downstairs.

“Tony?” the older woman - Mom - said, staring at him as he walked towards Sam.

“Tony doesn’t live here anymore,” he said. He felt tired, he needed to sleep.

Sam had picked up the cell phone from the floor and handed it to him. But he didn’t need it. He dropped it on the couch. “Let’s go,” he told Sam.

“Wait fifteen minutes, then call the cops,” Sam said.

“Tony, what are you doing? Where are you going?” Gina grabbed his arm. She had tears gathered in her eyes. He hated it when girls cried.

“I can’t stay. Tell them it was me,” he motioned up to the landing. “We’ll be okay.”

Then he walked away.


Part 7


Sam kept driving. At first they had no destination in mind, just wanted to get as far away from New Jersey as possible. Sam started driving west and just kept going, straight through Pennsylvania, stopping only once they got to Indiana. Dean stayed quiet in the passenger seat, sleeping most of the time with his head up against the window.

He called the man beside him Dean because he didn’t know how else to refer to him. Tony hadn’t come back since that night at his parents, Christmas morning breaking sometime while they were on the road. His eyes weren’t exactly Dean’s shade of green, they seemed stuck at a weird golden hazel. He didn’t object to being called Dean, didn’t say much of anything at all.

The hotel wasn’t much, but Sam couldn’t drive anymore. Dean didn’t ask to take the wheel, so he called it in Indiana. They had the TV on, Dean switching channels too quickly. Sam wondered if he was looking for news of a Christmas home invasion.

“Just pick a channel,” he said, coming out of the shower with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. The heater seemed to be stuck on high, but he wasn’t going to complain.

In response, Dean shut the TV off. “Not in the mood for ‘It’s a wonderful life’ for the fiftieth time.”

Sam nearly dropped his towel at the first words Dean spoke since Jersey. He knelt on the bed next to him. “I should have told you about the Walkers.”

“Twenty years I don’t know about,” he said softly.

He took that as an invitation to continue. “When Gordon got out of jail,” he started, hoping Dean remembered that much about Gordon Walker. “He found out he had a son. I guess after meeting us, seeing how Dad raised us, he got it into his head to start up his own hunting dynasty. Leon and Jazz...they’ve been riding my tail for the past five years.”

“Just like that?” Shrewd eyes gazed as Sam. He couldn’t look away.

“I killed Jazz’s mother,” he admitted, the first time he’d ever said those words aloud.

“God, Sammy,” Dean’s hand grasped his wrist, holding him tightly. “What the fuck?”

“I’ll tell you everything, I promise, just, not now, please?” Sam leaned forward, hoping Dean wouldn’t turn away. He didn’t, he let Sam kiss him. At first he didn’t respond, then he was tumbling Sam down onto the bed.

Sam tore at his clothes, having given up his towel as a lost cause the moment his back hit the bed. They clung together, too wrapped up in each other’s bodies for anything complicated, too desperate for more than humping against each other. Sam held on, grasping, touching, biting and kissing when he could reach.

Dean slept in his arms, and Sam still didn’t have any more answers than he did before.

***

He wished Sam would stop looking at him like he was going to disappear. Tony leaned his head against the glass again, it was easier to pretend to sleep than to face Sam’s concerned glances every so often. Sam kept calling him Dean and maybe he was Dean, but he was Tony too.

After the fight, everything had changed. Dean’s memories weren’t something strange and abstract, dreams he could call up at a moments notice. They became his memories, some elusive as his own childhood, others distressingly clear. He now was Dean in any way that mattered.

His phone beeped, the new phone he and Sam had gotten in Indiana, prepaid cash down. No one had the number, but he had set his email up on it. Tony flipped it open, frowning.

“What is it?”

“Email from, from Gina.” He slid it closed and put it back in his pocket.

“Are you going to answer it?”

“And tell her what, Sam?”

“Does she say at least what happened? Are they all okay?”

Tony didn’t like the reminder that he hadn’t cared to check up and see if anyone was going to be charged with Wes’s murder. “I didn’t read it. If you care so damn much, you can call them. I’m sure they’d love to hear from you.”

“Low blow, Dean.”

“Whatever.”

Hours later he realized they had driven into Kansas and weren’t heading straight out of it. “You are not taking me to Lawrence,” he choked out.

Sam didn’t answer, just tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I think Missouri can help. Should have thought of her sooner.”

“She’s still alive?”

“I’ll think she’ll outlive us both.”

“The way you run your life? Probably.” He couldn’t stop himself for some reason, couldn’t stop biting at Sam. Sam refused to take the bait, just gritted his teeth and drove on.

He couldn’t believe how little her home had changed. They stood on the snow covered lawn, the Impala parked as best as they could. It looked like Kansas had gotten a white Christmas at least. It seemed unnatural to him, too soon for the blanket of perfect white.

“Well, Sam Winchester are you just going to stand out there and make an old lady wait or are you thinking about ringing the damn doorbell!”

Tony couldn’t help but smile. She looked older yes, more worn, her dark hair gone completely white, her face weather worn, but still comforting, somehow. He kept behind Sam, following him up the porch steps.

She twapped Sam on the side of the head. “You should have called me sooner.”

“Sorry, Missouri.”

Tony stepped up beside Sam, not sure what welcome he would get.

To his surprise, she smiled. “Dean. It’s been a long time. And it’s very nice to meet you too, Tony.”

He blinked, not knowing how to respond to that.

“Well of course I’d know, silly. Now come on inside so none of us freeze half to death.”

They followed her inside. She sat them down in the kitchen and wouldn’t let them help with the tea she served. “You both look like you could use a cup of tea.”

Tony sipped his tea, surprised at the rich flavor. It felt good to sit and think and not worry about dealing with Sam, finding a motel or if someone was going to come after him.

Missouri sat and sipped her own tea, watching them. She set one wrinkled hand over Sam’s. “You haven’t lost Tony, Sam.”

Tony fixed his gaze on Sam. “What?”

Sam drew away from her touch, stood up and turned away from them both. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers shaking a bit.

“Sam, what’s she talking about?” Tony asked quietly.

“It’s my fault.” Sam turned around, but he wouldn’t look at Tony. “You kept asking me if I’d rather have Dean back. Over and over. You -- Tony -- got Dean to back me up against the werewolves. Then the Walkers threatened your family...they were after me. You had to kill, for me. And Tony hasn’t been back since.”

“Fuck, Sam,” Tony stood, pushing his chair back. “You’ve been blaming yourself the whole time?”

Sam shrugged. He really shouldn’t be surprised, the Sam he knew tended to do shit like this. “I wanted Dean back. And now you’re Dean.”

Tony wanted to slap him upside the head, just like Missouri had done, but he resisted the impulse. “Not quite.”

“Which is what I was trying to tell you,” Missouri huffed, still sipping her tea. “One soul, but two lives, Sam.”

“I’m not Tony and I’m not Dean either. I’m just me.” Tony took Sam by the shoulder, drawing him close. He cupped his jaw and kissed him, reminding him that they had loved each other before Dean had emerged into this body.

Sam drew away. “Aren’t you going to tell us we’re disgusting?”

“Maybe twenty years ago,” Missouri said softly. “If you only see your brother, you’re fooling yourself, Sam.”

Tony tugged onto Sam’s hand. “Finish your tea.” He wasn’t sure what to make of Missouri’s interference. He was the one who turned his back on his family, embraced the part of him that was Dean. Tony sat back down, grasping the mug in his hands, feeling the last bit of warmth seep into his fingers.

He looked up at Missouri’s gentle touch. “You’re under a powerful curse, child.”

“It’s saved my soul.”

She frowned. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. A curse can always be broken. And a soul grows weary.”

“What do we do?” Sam asked. Tony felt the weight of his hand over his shoulder. He leaned into the touch.

“What you should have done twenty years ago.”

“Break the deal,” Sam murmured.

Tony didn’t know about that. If Sam couldn’t do it then, how could he do it now? He felt old, suddenly, as if his body was the 49 years he had lived. “Well, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us then, don’t we?”

“We have time,” Sam said.

Later, when Sam had gone to answer a call of nature, Tony asked the question that had been on his mind since the night of the dream. “If Sam dies...”

She stopped him. “You don’t want to borrow trouble.”

“I just want to know if my soul will follow his, no matter what.”

“Don’t you know the answer to that, Dean? It was your spell.”

He sighed. “We never found the pages. Bobby must have destroyed them. And I don’t remember the specifics.”

“Then don’t worry before time. Don’t look at me like that. You take care of that brother of yours.” She handed him a bundle of sandwiches and fresh herbs for their stock. “Remember there’s no force on this earth that can tear you two apart. There’s no shame in that kinda love.”

“I’ll remember.”

***

Sam watched Tony from Missouri’s porch, as Tony leaned up against the side of the Impala, typing furiously into his phone. For once he could see Tony in the young man’s movements, his furrowed brow, the way he pursed his lips when he concentrated. The posture was all Dean though, slumped shoulders and exaggerated sprawl. Somehow Sam had gotten exactly what he wanted, his brother and lover both.

He felt thankful, happy to have Dean back with him. Relieved he hadn’t destroyed the spark of life that was Tony. Sam figured they’d need the combined strength and minds of all three of them in order to free Dean from his deal and his soul from the curse. But Sam was darn glad he wouldn’t have to figure it out alone. Once again he had a partner by his side.

He hopped off the porch and strolled down to the car, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. Maybe he’d talk to Tony about getting a leather jacket. He didn’t look quite right in the parka. “What are you doing?” Sam asked.

He didn’t look up. “Emailing my sister.”

That was the first time he’d referred to Gina as his sister since they left Jersey. Sam felt even better.

“Anything good?”

“Telling her to give Rosa the Civic. It’s a girl car anyway.”

Now he sounded like Dean. Sam smiled. “Should I call you Tony-Dean now?”

Tony made a face. “Real clever there, Sammy. Give me the keys.”

“What?”

“My ride, I’m driving my baby.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but tossed the keys over anyway. He got into the passenger seat, a bit of the tightness loosening his his chest. This might actually work out.

“DT.” Tony said abruptly.

“What?”

“That’s what you should call me. DT.”

“Is that like your street name?”

“Oh, fuck you.” Tony leaned over and switched on the radio. He pulled a cassette tape out of his jacket and pushed it into the tape player. Sam grinned at the music coming out of the speakers. “You got a problem with Green Day?”

“Shutting my cake hole,” Sam said, miming closing his lips.

“So,” Tony threw the car into gear and eased her onto the road. “Where to?”

“I was thinking we go see Jo and her family up in South Dakota.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Well,” Dean said. “Sure beats Jersey anyway.”

Sam closed his eyes, curling up in the seat as best as he could. For once he felt like he could sleep, safe in the embrace of the gently rumbling Impala.

end

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