Sorry I haven't posted in practically forever. Things were busy, and then my writing was directed at other projects (stories and scripts) that made themselves more present than Supernatural fanfic (sadly). But this story had been lingering for a while, and it had an element that I found interesting. So here it is.

Supernatural is owned by the CW and all that, nothing is mine, I'm just borrowing it to play with.

Thank you all for reading and hopefully I'll post this all in a timely fashion. I'll do my best. Thanks for sticking with me through the absence.

---SN---

There was a bad feeling in Dean's gut. It had been there for the past week and he couldn't figure out why. Without anything to back it up, he was almost able to ignore it, especially with Nikki at his side. She was one of those girls, the kind that look all sweet and innocent, but always know where everything goes. Dean liked those girls. He liked most girls, but girls like Nikki were different. He smiled as she nibbled her way down to his shirt collar. Her hand snaked into the top of his jeans.

"Never met a boy like you, Dean." She muttered against his neck.

"I can guarantee that." He smirked.

She sat back, big eyes and lips pouted. "Met any girls like me before?"

He pulled her close, his hand up the back of her shirt. "Never."

"Good."

She kissed his lips, caught his bottom lip between her teeth and met his eyes.

His phone rang.

"Fuck." He breathed.

She unbuttoned his jeans. "Ignore it."

Oh, how he would have liked to, but he couldn't. Not with a case open like it was, not with those strange, unsolved murders still unsolved. If it was his dad, he'd catch hell for not answering and if it was his brother, he'd give himself hell for not answering if it was important.

"One second." He reluctantly pulled away from her hand. "Promise."

She sat back and managed to look hurt and seductive at the same time. God, how Dean loved girls like her.

He flipped open the phone. "Yeah."

There was nothing but static, he thought he heard movement, like a fight or a struggle.

"Hello?"

"…Dean…" Sam's voice came through. It sounded far away and scared.

Dean's heart paused. "Sammy?" He pushed away Nikki's hand on his shoulder.

"…help…Dean…"

That bad feeling in Dean's gut finally had the proof he needed. The call ended, that was never good. Dean stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair.

"Dean."

He turned to Nikki. "I'm sorry, I really am. Family emergency."

She pouted her bottom lip. "Will you come back?"

"If I can."

"Will you call?"

He paused at the door. "If I can. I really am sorry."

She nodded and he disappeared into the night air. He ran to the car and jumped behind the wheel. It took a second try to get it to start and he cursed each second that went by. He couldn't get the way Sam said his name out of his head. Something had gone wrong, but he couldn't figure out what, or even how. Sam was with Dad and they were over at the Jones's. They were taking a night off from the case. After a solid week of dead ends, they all needed it.

He dialed Sam's number and counted the rings. "Pick up your phone, Sammy. Damn it, pick up." When he was about to hang up and try again, the call went through. "Sam?"

"Dean." He breathed.

"Where are you?"

"Jones." He gasped, like he was in pain and moved wrong.

"What the hell happened?"

There was nothing but Sam's breathing on the other end.

"Sammy?"

"I'm sorry." His breath caught like he was trying not to cry.

It was in that moment that Dean knew everything was screwed up about as bad as it could be. Sam was fourteen, he did everything in his power to never shed a tear. He said that only kids cried, and he was trying to distance himself from being a kid. Even that time a few months back, when that arrow went through his arm, he didn't shed a single tear. Dean nearly did, but not Sam.

"I doubt you have anything to be sorry about, Sammy. Are you still at the Jones's?"

He took a slow breath, like he was testing broken ribs. "Yeah."

"Dad with you?"

"No."

Dean nearly slammed on the brakes out of shock. "What?"

"Left. Few hours ago." He took another breath. "Dean."

"Are you hurt?"

Nothing but breathing, until. "Yes."

"Bad?"

"How long?"

Dean knew his brother well. "Ten minutes. You'll be okay until then." It wasn't a question, it was a command.

"Yeah."

He drove faster, he had to see his brother and figure out where in the hell his father went. If John hadn't already had his ass kicked by something else, Dean would do it without hesitation.

"You still with me?"

Sam's voice was getting quieter. "Yeah."

"Sam, you have the worst timing of anyone I know. I was about to get laid and it was going to be as close to heaven as I'll ever get. Then you had to go and call." He was going for distraction, for him and Sam both. "I swear kid, it's like you have a 'Dean's having a good time' detector. There aren't girls like Nikki in every town, you know."

A soft breath of a laugh was all Dean wanted. "Jerk."

"Seriously Sam, she had my pants unbuttoned."

"Don't need to know."

"You need to know what girls are for some day soon, kid. It's getting embarrassing to be seen with you."

"Dean." There was something different in the tone, the joking and faint smile from a second ago was gone.

Dean's blood ran cold. "Yeah, Sammy."

"Scared."

"I'm nearly there. Just hold on."

The house came into view. It looked perfect from the road. Lights on, warm and inviting, he could practically smell the cookies that could have been baking in the oven. All outward appearances aside, he pulled a gun from the back seat, checked that it was loaded with silver, and ran from the car. He went around to the back door, some habits die hard, and picked the lock. He stepped into the kitchen and held his breath to listen.

A movie played in another room. The basement door was open and the light on. Instinct, the one that could bring him to his brother no matter what no matter where, told him to go down the stairs. He was prepared for any scenario, any demon, ghost, or monster. He didn't expect to see Kyle on the floor, unconscious, pale, with blood on his hands and shirt.

Dean knelt down next to him. "Kyle?" He checked for a pulse and found it. The kid was simply unconscious.

"…Dean…"

He turned and saw his kid brother. Sam was curled in on himself, the phone near his hand. His eyes were locked on Dean, but the fear and fatigue was evident. Sam was covered in blood, a gash under his hair ran blood to the carpet. Blood dried under his nose. He shivered, he was in shock.

Dean ran to his brother's side. "What the hell happened?"

Sam's eyes shifted to Kyle. "Is he okay?"

"Shit, Sam. Are you okay?"

Sam's hand clamped on Dean's wrist and that was all Dean needed to know. "I'm gonna call dad, then we'll get you some help." He flipped open his phone and dialed. "Dad? Where the hell are you? Well get your ass back to the Jones's now."

Sam closed his eyes, but kept his iron grip on Dean's wrist.

Dean turned his full attention to his brother and eased Sam into his lap. Sam hung onto his older brother and shivered.

"You're okay, Sammy." Dean ran his hand through Sam's hair. "I'm here and everything's okay."

Dean wanted to call an ambulance, but he knew better. He could still smell the sulfur in the air and there was a pentagon drawn on the floor. He'd recognize Sam's work anywhere and wondered what the hell the kid had to do. Sam clung to Dean like he hadn't done in a while.

"Dean?" His voice was quiet.

"Yeah."

"Glad you came."

Dean glanced down at Sam. "Of course I'd come." Again he wondered just what Sam had to do.