Know what's great about supernatural fiction? I can make up my own curses and lore and cures...and I DID!

He did not want to be here. Oh, at first he'd been eager to come then they arrived and found other hunters already on the job. Once it was clear they weren't welcome or wanted, he'd done an abrupt about-face and informed Sam it wasn't their problem and it was time to leave. He'd insisted the other hunters were capable of handling the situation; said he felt he'd done his time, paid his dues and owed no more – to anyone.

'Come on Sam, let's go. We don't need to be here.' he'd pleaded. 'We'll head up to Rufus's cabin, do some fishing, you can sleep outside, on the hard ground, in the cold, with wildlife – you're fond of that. You know, under the stars. What do you say? Huh? Let's just go.'

But had Sam listened? No, oh hell no. Not Sam. Oh woe….but the kid had dug in his heels and stood firm. And man-oh-man, he had wheedling guilt-trips down to an art: Please Dean? Just this once, Dean? What can it hurt? We don't have anything else on the books. It's not a bad thing Dean, to know other hunters, to establish a relationship with a couple of them, get to know them. Most we know were Dad or Bobby's associates and you gotta be honest Dean, there ain't too many of them left.

But…with all they had going on in their lives…..still missing Bobby – a hurt that was deep and constant and on-going with no immediate end in sight, and how long had it been? And then there was Benny and oh, poor Kevin! Nearly a loss a year and he wasn't ready to face another – even if it were another hunter he barely knew. He didn't think he could. No…no, he knew; he just couldn't do it.

He was content to take his head, stick it in the sand and flip the world off. He'd had enough, he'd done enough, he'd given enough. It was that simple. Why couldn't Sam see that? Dean hadn't really worked with other hunters since the Campbell clan debacle and he wasn't the least bit eager to do so now. And it wasn't like the other hunters already on the job were pleased to have met the Winchester brothers either. At best, they'd been barely civil – Sam's opinion, outright hostile – Dean's opinion.

He finished cleaning the shotgun he normally loaded with salt shells and set it aside, laying it gently on the mattress next to his hip. The familiar routine gave him peace and calmed his nerves, kept his hands busy, his mind occupied and his annoyance and irritation over where he still was mostly under control. His beloved handgun, he would clean later at the table because that's where he liked to do it. He picked up a machete and a sharpening stone and began swiping, soon settling into a rhythm that within no time, lulled him to sleep.

***000***

Sam swung the door to the motel room open, juggling a bag of carryout, two cups of coffee and a box of donuts; Dean's favorites – a lame attempt to appease him, for the eldest Winchester was cranky. He expected Dean to meet him at the door and relieve him of his awkward burden but the room remained quiet and still.

Suffering a splurge of irrational panic sparked by the fear that Dean had either left room under his own power or been forcefully dragged, Sam swung his foot wildly and the door slammed shut behind him. Mentally stemming the flow of uncontrolled anxiety and stifling his instinct to drop everything and pull his gun from the back of his jeans, he let his eyes survey the room, finally breathing when he saw Dean sprawled on the bed amidst an array of weapons.

Sam frowned, surprised the slamming door hadn't awakened his, hopefully-only-slumbering sibling then stumbled when panic surged upwards a second time; an array of weapons sharp enough to cut a freaking hand off!

"Dean?" Sam plunked everything on the small table and rushed over to the bed, hands reaching, grabbing, shaking; desperate for proof his brother still breathed. "Dean!"

Dean stirred, mumbling with a snort as his hands sought the pillow. Huffing his relief that Dean was merely asleep and not injured or dead, Sam still felt him up, over and down in search of injury, ignoring Dean's feeble, sleepy attempts to slap his hands away. No bumps, no bruises, two hands, ten fingers, no wounds, no blood – brother all in one piece. Thank God.

"Really Dean? Fall asleep on a machete?" Sam muttered, sending up a thank-you prayer as he removed ALL sharp weapons, guns and assorted cleaning utensils from the bed. "Way to keep giving me a freaking heart attack." you dumb ass, he add silently, for Dean never took kindly to being called names. No siree bob!

"N'im n'okay." the bed now soft and free of impediments, Dean rolled with the pillow and relaxed into the depths of the comforter. "Go'way." but his nose was twitching. "Nat 'offee?"

"Say what?" Sam shed his jacket, booted up his laptop, set Dean's dinner on the counter and sat down at the table to eat his own meal. "Oh, yeah. Coffee."

Dean rolled about, alternating between hugging his pillow and attempting to deny the tantalizing aroma of dinner. If only his nose wasn't connected directly to his stomach. Alas, but it was.

"No cheeseburger?" he rolled over to sprawl on his back, toes wiggling in his socks. Was it worth getting up for something that wasn't a beloved burger? His stomach growled. Okay, so….that'd be a yes.

"Chicken sandwich." distracted, it was a moment or two before Sam replied. "Fried though."

"What are you looking up?" Dean sat up and set his pillow aside. He glanced out the window, huh, dark. What had taken Sam so long to find a restaurant and pick up dinner? What else had the little jerk been doing? And what time was it anyway?

"Nothing." Sam denied quickly. "Just reading. Seeing if, you know, we came up against something like this before."

Dean took a moment then swung his socked feet to the carpeted floor and stood up. "You really think there's something here that needs our attention? Not like the town's being held hostage or infected or whatever."

"It's happened before." Sam said defensively.

Dean sighed. Wow, he knew that tone. Really? Sam wanted to fight now? "I don't think we have to worry about the horseman of War or a demonic virus."

Sam shrugged. "Worth looking into. Something's up. The manner and frequency of the recent deaths on that mountain point towards…"

Dean waved him off with a flick of a limp wrist and padded with a yawn over to the white Styrofoam container that held his dinner. He flipped the top open with a hesitant finger, pleased to find French fries beneath the foil wrapper. He just bet Sam had a grilled chicken breast on whole grain or something with a side salad, probably with spinach.

"What are we doing here Sam?" he asked munching on a fry and pulling a bottle of beer from the mini-fridge. Eat first then enjoy a cup of coffee with a donut or three while watching a rerun of an old Western on cable. That was his plan and a mighty fine plan it was, too. And if Sam dared to interfere with his plan, he'd play the same cassette tape of mullet hair-bands in the car for a month!

"Just thought, you know, maybe we could help."

"Help? Help how? With what? Extra gun? Back-up?" he tasted another fry and made a face. "We got any salt? These need salt. Who makes fries without salt?"

"Knowledge." Sam sighed. "Hell Dean, I dunno, I just….we know shit." he tossed packets of salt at Dean. "Go easy on that, those fries were already salted."

"Don't taste like it." Dean complained. "And those hunters we met when we got here didn't seem too eager for our help." he pointed out, happily over-salting. "In fact, once they learned who we were, they basically told us to go to hell. They don't want anything to do with us."

"Most hunters we've met over the years…."

"Knew us as kids." Dean added grumpily. "We should go, let them handle this. They don't want us here, they say they don't need our help and we should move on."

Sam scowled, but continued undeterred. "Dad pretty much kept us away from other hunters and Bobby don't count." he paused, not missing the murky depths to which Dean's gaze sunk. "New generation Dean….." wow, years, it'd been years since Bobby's…..uh, passing and still…..it hurt.

"And not our problem." Den countered. "We got enough going on Sam, why invite more hatred? They've heard rumors or saw the news, you remember, the massacre at the bank and the diner, or were told an embellished story…..I don't want to deal with it, I don't need to."

"Say what?"

"We aren't exactly the World's Favorite Hunters." Dean continued, munching on crispy chicken breading. "And they don't know what we do, the tablets and…..well….past history and all that. I mean, how many versions of the apocalypse are floating around out here? Who knows the truth?

"You know Dean, that's shit." Sam was instantly defensive, once again tired of having shit constantly thrown in his face. He'd intended to pick a fight but hadn't meant for Dean to go there! Had never dreamed he would! "Enough already. Let it go."

"Just saying, Lilith….."

"Don't." Sam warned, his finger in his brother's face and boy, Dean hated that. He struggled not to slap it away because that would undoubtedly lead to a fist fight and he was just too tired to best Sam. "Don't say it. Don't bring her name up…ever again."

"You started it." Dean argued childishly.

"How did I…...you know what? Never mind. Don't talk about it. Don't….just don't."

Oh, jeesch, was he still rambling on? "You don't think someone will here?" Dean slurped beer from the bottle, licking the foam from his upper lip. "Her name, Ruby, the apocalypse, or opening the devil's gate, Gordon spreading his hate. Should I go on?"

"Years ago Dean, that was all years ago."

"And that's what we know was spread about." Dean ignored the interruption. "Now, there's Cas and uh, well, Gad and Kevin and no Bobby as a go between…"

"You want to get into this shit again? Now? Smash and rehash Dean. It's what we always do and it gets us nowhere." Sam was angry at himself. He'd started this shit, okay, maybe it'd gone too far, and it was on him but Dean always kept pushing.

"Just trying to make you understand being here with other hunters ain't the best place for us. It ain't safe. None of that shit was explained. Not to everyone anyway. Need I bring up that Tracy chick? Remember her? Yeah, thought so. Ain't nothing wrong with helping via the phone."

"Maybe there's a hunter who's new to this game and doesn't hold a grudge. Someone we can help learn the rules." anything Sam, say anything that will throw Dean off his current train of thought before it gets out of hand and becomes a fist fight.

Dean paused, a fry between his teeth, say what? "Learn the rules? What the fuck, Sam? A mentor? Us?" he snorted, rooting through the fries with a finger in search of more mayo. "Sam, come on, really?" he paused again, what the hell was he up to now? It was going to take some further thinking, just not now.

"What's so wrong with that?" Sam growled defensively. He so did not want to be having this conversation. How come something he wanted to do always ended up being the wrong argument? Oh yeah, right, because you're lying and sneaking behind your brother's back, his mind taunted. Traitor.

Dean frowned, for the first time realizing Sam was serious, and just how serious gave Dean a reckoning. "Okay, sure, I get that Sam, I do and that's not such a bad idea…..but not here. There are too many hunters out there with prior knowledge – most of it false – and they hold a grudge. They're prejudice against you. Again, hello Tracy? Hell, they probably got it against both of us and why the hell would I want to deal with attitude? Why should I have to?"

"Not all of them." Sam said mildly. His emotions reeled in and his original goal within his grasp, he was able to continue the conversation and not blow up. "Didn't think you'd be so against this. You wanted a hunt….I found you one."

"How many of them are here? Ten?"

"What? No!" Sam scowled. "Five."

"Just saying Sam, we can't watch them all. There's gonna be a time when our back is turned or exposed and can we count on everyone not to stick a knife it? Or risk their lives to protect ours?" nope, no packs of hiding mayo – bummer. "One snide comment too many and my fists will do the talking. You know that."

"And you think it's easier for me? You're right, we don't know who knows what or who believes what, but I don't think anyone is out to stab us in the back." Sam paused. "And yeah, I mean that literally."

"And that's a chance you're willing to take. Me? Not so much."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Sam demanded. "Are you saying I'd willingly risk your life?" so much for having control of his emotions. Man, Dean knew just what buttons to push.

"Anything can happen to me at any time Sam." Dean pointed out, finishing the last fry. "It's life, it's our life and there's no changing it." he balled the wrapper from the chicken sandwich with the foil from the fries and a napkin. "You've lost me before, probably will again. Hell, you've left me and let me go, so don't stand on some soap box and preach." he tossed the ball of trash into the trashcan. "You land on your feet, find someone, always do. I just don't want to meet another untimely end at the hands of green, wet-behind-the ears hunters."

"Wow." Sam pushed his salad away, appetite gone. "Way to say, fuck you Sam." he paused, trying hard to let it go, but nope, couldn't do it. "Leave you? Find someone?" his fists clenched and he forced himself to remain seated. "How well did I do the first time I lost you, huh Dean? Tell me! You sure as hell weren't shy about it back then. Oh, right, yeah…..I only set the end of the world in motion. Full speed ahead, no stops. No big deal, right?" he got up to dump the remainder of his meal in the trash. "Until…..Lilith, I never had to face a life – the world – without you in it. She could have let you go, she could have…but she didn't and I can't forget that. It's something I will never forget either, no matter who it was, no matter the reason. So shut the fuck up."

"Where are you going?" Dean asked when Sam reached for his jacket. "Sam, come on."

"Out."

"To do what? Chill out dude, you just got back. Have a beer and we'll watch an old Western that's coming on." that was Dean extending both an apology and an olive branch. Huh, apparently not enough. "We'll meet up with the Scooby gang in the morning, see what's going on." he pulled Sam's laptop around. "Happy?"

Sam caved like he always did, mission accomplished. He hated picking fights with his brother and goading him into a confrontation neither wanted to face but he got the result he'd sought. He needed time alone and Dean would go to sleep - movie forgotten - to avoid the possibility of further arguing.

"Whatever." he went into the bathroom for a hot shower. He got it, he did. Dean did not want to be there. Oh, he'd been all hot and horny for a hunt, one he'd thought would test their limits, expend energy and give him a chance to work out some aggression, depression, hostilities and god only knew what else. But all that had changed when they'd arrived in town and found a group of hunters already on the case. A group of hunters who all knew one other and hadn't been eager to greet the brothers.

One brief meeting, okay sure, there'd been some curt words, hostile looks, sneering attitude and not-so-subtle innuendo's, and Dean had been ready to U-turn and high-tail it right out of town. Hell, he'd flat-out refused to even do further research on the case. It'd taken pouts and sullen moods to stop Dean from leaving town.

Sam shed his jeans and adjusted the water. Sam had risked arguing, but the verbal fight had taken an ugly turn he hadn't expected – Lilith. Yet another calculated decision that had bitten him in the ass. Dean wasn't exactly in the best state of mind these days and pushing him wouldn't end well for anyone. Sam should pack up and let Dean drive them out of town, but one of the hunters already on the job was the reason Sam had arrived to join the hunt. The kid, having met him the previous night, was full of piss-ass attitude and he was going to get himself killed hunting with a group of hunters who didn't put safety first.

And Sam needed him alive…..for he wanted answers. The kid had information Sam sought and Sam didn't care if his ulterior motive for joining the hunt became known. A hunt Sam cared nothing about. He didn't care about the job, the hunters, the danger or the outcome of the hunt. Nope, he was here for one reason and one reason only.

To find the hunter who had shot his brother in the shoulder several weeks ago.

He just needed to keep that from Dean, 'cause if dear ole big brother figured out what Sam was up to before Sam had what he needed, there'd be hell to pay…..again. Dean was hazy about that day, that hunt, being shot and Sam had brushed him off, claiming he didn't know exactly what happened either and Dean had been content to let it go. But not Sam. Oh, hell no, never Sam. He knew exactly what happened and he'd never forget.

His brother had been shot by another hunter, albeit accidently…but that didn't matter to Sam. The injury had been minor….but that didn't matter to Sam. Dean had healed as good as new…..but that didn't matter to Sam. No, Sam had quietly and patiently bided his time, searching and tracking all the while letting Dean believe it was done, settled, and over with.

Not while Sam still drew breath.

When he emerged from the bathroom, just as Sam had planned, Dean was in bed and asleep. Good, because Sam had more reading and researching to do before the hunt in the morning and he did not want to have to explain to Dean why. It was close to midnight when he quietly got dressed, mouth curling into an affection grin when Dean mumbled about the light being too bright. He waited half an hour to ensure Dean once again slept soundly, then left the motel room. To complete his research, he was forced to make a middle-of-the night run to pick up an odd thing or two. He was gone maybe an hour before he returned and finally fell into his own bed for a couple hours of sleep.

Dean mumbled about Sam not enjoying the movie but didn't wake up.