In hobbit tradition, I'm giving y'all a gift on my birthday. :) -KHK

Staunching the Flow
K Hanna Korossy

Dean was, unsurprisingly, at the laptop when Sam walked in the motel room door. They both knew there was nothing online about how to access Purgatory—or how to stop a misguided angel from doing so—but that wouldn't stop Dean from searching. He was suffering from the double loss of Castiel's betrayal and Lisa and Ben being cut off, and in typical Winchester fashion, he'd thrown himself into the hunt to deal.

He looked up, eyebrow quirking, as Sam shut the door behind him. "Hey."

"Hey," Sam returned, tossing the bulky room key on the table and the empty paper coffee cup into the wastebasket. "You or Bobby have any luck?" He kept his eyes on Dean as he pulled his satchel up over his head and dropped it next to the key. They couldn't be sure now if Castiel was listening invisibly in the room, but he and Dean had a lifetime of silent tells to drawn on if something needed be communicated unspoken.

"Nope." Dean folded down the laptop lid to give Sam his full attention. "You find anything at the library?"

Sam pulled his duffel out from under his bed and unzipped a side pocket. "Found plenty on Purgatory. Not so much about how to get there." Bingo: he ripped open the granola bar and took a big bite. He'd been in too much of a hurry to get back to take the time for lunch.

"Huh," Dean said. Then, just as Sam registered the oddness in his voice, his brother added, "You didn't mention the library was in Battle Creek."

Sam didn't quite stop chewing, and his poker face was better than it used to be, whether a remnant of soulless-him or not. But he still had doubts about how convincing he was when he quickly answered, "There was a school library there I wanted to check." He finished the bar in one big, nervous bite and tossed the wrapper onto the duffel.

"Right," Dean drawled, rising to his feet. He had that lethal grace as when he was on a hunt. And Sam knew who the prey was this time. "So, would that be the nationally acclaimed Kellogg Community College? Or maybe you were at the famous West MU?" Off whatever he saw in Sam's face, Dean's scowl darkened. "I used to live there, Sam, remember?"

"No," Sam answered honestly as he chewed. Dean had barely talked about his time with the Braedens, at least since Sam got his soul back. "I mean, makes sense since…well, they live there, but it's not like—"

"Dude, just cut the bull and tell me." Dean was around the table now, within arm's reach. Sam could practically feel the anger rolling off him.

He gave Dean a wry look. "That mean I can talk about them without getting my nose broken?"

"Depends what you say," Dean gritted out, patience gone.

Sam took a breath, ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, just, uh…sit down, all right?"

Clearly contemplating fratricide, Dean nevertheless sank down on the edge of Sam's bed.

"Okay, so." Sam began to pace. "You remember Adam?"

"Sam—"

He spun back to Dean. "No, just, listen for a minute. Dad didn't tell Adam and his mom about what we do because he wanted to keep them safe, right? Ignorance is bliss and everything?"

Dean's expression twitched. He wasn't stupid, Sam's brother, and could probably see where this was going and didn't like it.

Sam rushed on. "But they still got killed because the ghouls knew they were important to Dad. In fact, who knows, maybe if the Milligans had known, they wouldn't've been…" He saw immediately that was not a good line to follow; Dean still felt some misplaced guilt over having lost his youngest brother without ever having known him. Sam shook his head. "Whatever, the fact is, whether they remember you or not, Lisa and Ben are gonna be in danger as long as anything out there is familiar with your…history. And since Crowley knows—"

"—so does most of Hell, and anything else out there willing to pay for the information." Dean's face twisted and he shoved to his feet, energy needing release. "You think I haven't thought about that? That it's not on my mind 24/7?" He turned back. "I can't unlive the year I spent with them, Sam. That's why I didn't want to go there in the first place, but…" He broke off, hand wiping over his mouth.

But Sam had made him promise. And he was pretty sure Dean wouldn't have been alive to come back to if he hadn't.

"I can't do anything about that," Dean continued. "All I could do was give them back their lives—wipe out the possession, the stabbing, what Ben heard and saw." He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Wait, you weren't… You didn't go back to tell—"

Sam's eyes went wide. "No! No, I didn't tell them what happened, I swear."

"But you talked to them," Dean said flatly.

Sam dodged his gaze. "Uh, not exactly."

"How not exactly is 'not exactly,' Sam?" Dean was ducking to try to see his face.

Sam gave in, looked him in the eye. "I just talked to Lisa."

"And said what?" Dean asked, still in that dead voice. His bark was harmless, but Sam knew it was this fake calm that you had to watch out for.

He took a breath; this was it, what he'd worked out on the way back to Battle Creek. "I told her I was with the CIA."

Dean blinked, clearly not expecting that one.

"Wore the Fed suit and everything. And I told her," Sam inhaled, "that she'd had a guy staying with her who was an undercover agent hiding out from some seriously bad guys. But they found him—you—and that was why Matt was dead and the house was trashed and she'd ended up in the hospital."

Dean stared at him, looking like he was trying to figure out if Sam was insane. "And she believed that, even though she didn't remember any of it," he scoffed.

"I said she and Ben were dosed with something to make them forget." Off Dean's incredulous look, Sam shrugged, sheepish. "Dude, most of what people know about the CIA comes from 24 and conspiracy movies. A lot of people really think the government can do stuff like that. And it explained everything. You think Cas squeegeed the memories of all of Lisa and Ben's friends who met you? Or zapped all the photos and other reminders of you in the house?"

It was Dean's turn to not look at him. Maybe he'd thought of the details later on, or maybe he never went that far, but Sam knew the immediacy of needing to fix a loved one right away, screw the consequences. And he knew Dean knew it even more.

Sam sighed, leaning back as he realized how much he'd crowded into Dean's space. "I told her," he continued more quietly, "that she and Ben would probably be safe now, but just to keep her eyes open, and to call me if she saw anything suspicious or if anything happened."

Dean peered up at him, deflated and hesitant now. "And by 'me,' you mean…"

"The Fed line," Sam answered. It was the dedicated phone they used on cases where they needed to separate business from…well, other business. It wasn't a number they had to keep changing, and it protected their real identities.

Dean nodded. His jaw shifted, eyes stormy. He didn't like what Sam had done; that was exactly why Sam had had no intention of telling him. But when it came down to it, it was what he had to do, what Dean would've known they had to do if he could have been objective for even a second.

Sam turned away from him, giving him space to digest. He balled the empty wrapper and tossed it in the trash, zipped his duffel up, and slid it back under the bed. The remaining stickiness on his hands he rubbed off on his jeans.

"How'd she look?"

Dean's voice came quietly from behind him, and Sam knew in that moment that, barring another crisis, this would indeed be the last time the Braedens would be mentioned between them. "She looked good," Sam said earnestly without turning around. "Ben, too. Kinda confused, but calm. Solid. I think they're gonna be okay."

"Yeah." The wistfulness in the one word made him ache.

Sam studied the teal and magenta swirls of the bedspread. They were in the first town they'd hit outside Battle Creek, as if Dean couldn't bear to stay but couldn't bear to leave yet, either. Sam knew they'd be gone by morning.

Another beat. Then Dean's hand unexpectedly slapped his shoulder. "Chinese or deli?" he asked briskly.

"Uh." Sam took a second to jump tracks. "Korean? I saw a place down the street." He peered back over his shoulder at his brother.

Dean's eyes were bright, but they weren't shying away from Sam. In fact, his look said everything his words didn't. "Is that the kind with the awesome barbeque?" His smile was pathetic, but that he even made the attempt had Sam grinning back.

"Yep. Remember that place—"

"—in Maryland? Oh yeah. Gimme ten?" He headed for the bathroom. Paused on the threshold, head lowered, back to his brother. "Thanks, Sammy." Dean thumped his hand on the jamb, then the door was clicking shut behind him.

Sam didn't bother answering the empty room, just smiled.

The End