Title: A Little Help From Bob
Author: Dhvana
Series: 1) The Monster Under the Bed
Rating: PG-13 for language
Pairing: Sam/Dean, but the Wincest is implied and unrequited (so far)
Summary: The brothers continue their investigation of the monster under the bed that attacked Dean.
A/N: The second in the Demon Country series (name subject to change), this will be a little slower than the first chapter since I guess I'll start building. Please let me know what you think!


"I know what I said before about Enchanted Rock, but it really might be the perfect place for the monster to hide."

Dean looked up at his brother and sighed. The two were sitting in the town's library, as they had been for days now, searching without success for any clues that would lead them to the lair of the monster under the bed. Even though their search so far had been futile, Sam insisted on continuing while Dean was more than ready to hit the pavement.

"And I don't think its origin is here in Fredericksburg. I think this was just a convenient place for it to stop and carbo-load before it moved on."

"Two months is not just a convenience stop. It had a purpose in coming here," Sam argued, and Dean's lips thinned.

Yeah, it had a purpose in coming here, and we were it, he thought, but didn't say anything aloud to Sam. In spite of his brother's badgering, there were some things about his encounter with the creature he'd been able to keep to himself. It was his opinion that there were some things Sam just didn't need to know, that he was better off not knowing. His brother worried enough for ten people. He didn't need to add the weight of hundreds to his already burdened shoulders.

But knowing firsthand how stubborn his brother could be, Dean had might as well give in to this so they could start a new search elsewhere.

"Okay, look, if we go out to the damn Rock and look around and find nothing, will you agree to let it drop so we can fight the good fight somewhere else? Ever since the attack in our room, no one else has been taken, and that was two weeks ago. I'm telling you, Sam, it's moved on, and so should we."

Sam glared at him with narrowed eyes, but then lowered his gaze to the yellowed newspaper on the table in front of him and, after a moment, nodded. "All right. But I don't like it. If that thing comes back after we're gone, I'm not responsible for the people it kills."

"Deal," Dean said, knowing with almost total certainty that the creature would not be coming back. At least, not for the people of Fredericksburg.

Closing the book he hadn't really been looking through, he glanced outside to see that night was beginning to fall. The sun set just a little bit sooner every day, and while it wasn't so bad down here, if they headed north after this, he was going to start yearning for that big yellow globe in the sky. Just because he hunted the things that went bump in the night didn't mean he had an aversion to sunlight. In fact, it made him love the day even more. He celebrated the summer solstice the way most people celebrated St. Patrick's Day. It was his favorite day of the year, one he spent months looking forward to, and then missed terribly once it was gone.

Maybe Sammy could arrange it so their next gig was in Florida. Strange shit was sure to be happening somewhere along the coastline if they just looked hard enough for it.

And if they had to spend a few days on the beach counting bikinis and going swimming, well, they'd just do what they had to do.

"It's too late to head out there now," Dean said as the last bit of sun disappeared below the roof of the house next to the library. "Let's go grab a bite to eat, get some sleep, and then we can go first thing in the morning."

Sam stared reluctantly at the pages in front of him, then nodded. "All right. I wasn't finding anything here anyway."

"Good thing, too," Dean smirked, relieved that Sam wasn't going to put up a fight, "because the librarian's been giving us the evil eye for about half an hour now. I think she's ready to go home."

His brother looked up at the librarian who was, indeed, watching them with thinly veiled patience. "It does seem we've worn out our welcome," he said as they stood.

"I think she's just pissed that she keeps having to drag all these old newspapers out of the basement for us."

"That, too," Sam grinned, waving cheerfully to the woman as they passed on their way out the doors.

Hands shoved in their pockets to protect them from the cold wind that had blown in during the day, they walked down the main street towards the biergarten that had become their designated haunt since their arrival. When they weren't actually drinking, the prices were decent and the food plentiful, so they didn't feel too much guilt about indulging in eating dinner there every day. It sure beat the cold cuts slapped between stale bread and the generic pop tarts that made up the rest of their meals, and with Austin and San Antonio pretty much equidistant to the town, every time they got low on funds, Dean just made a little drive to the city.

"Hey guys," Fran said as they walked in. "I was wondering if you were going to make it tonight."

"Got distracted looking at the antiques two shops down," Dean said, following her through the restaurant. "Rooms filled with tons of fantastic old crap no one else wants. Who could resist?"

She laughed, taking his explanation for what it was--a bold-faced lie. "The day I catch you lingering over an antique chair is the day I join a nunnery."

"The day you join a nunnery is the day I'll catch you over the back of an antique chair and change your mind," he said wriggling his eyebrows suggestively, and she rolled her eyes, though the corners of her lips were starting to curl.

"Can't you control him?" she asked Sam, setting the menus down on a table that was inside because of the cold, but near a front window so they could keep an eye on the goings-on outside.

"Not so far," Sam said, then leaned over to continue in a stage whisper, "but I'm getting him neutered on Friday."

"Not a moment too soon," Fran said, 'accidentally' whacking the scowling Dean across the back of the head as she returned to the hostess stand.

"You're going to get arrested for sexual harassment one of these days," Sam said, ignoring the dark look his brother was giving him. "Or at the very least, kicked in the balls."

"Until you get them removed," he growled and Sam grinned.

"If you behave like an animal, you get treated like an animal," he said casually as he kept his eyes focused on the menu, even though he'd memorized it a week ago. He looked up only when a shadow crossed the descriptions of the various schnitzels the restaurant offered and smiled. "Hey Shelley."

"Hey Sam," their server said as she placed two glasses of water down on the table. "I can't believe y'all are still in town. Aren't you bored yet?"

"Getting there," Dean muttered and she arched an eyebrow.

"He's in a mood tonight."

"He's just hungry," Sam said, kicking his brother under the table, and Dean looked up at Shelley with a huge smile.

"Sorry. Headache," he said, kicking Sam back.

"Do you need some aspirin?"

"Already took some. I'm just waiting for it to start working. Thank you, though," he said, giving her that particular look that had a tendency to make women melt faster than a scoop of ice cream in the middle of the Gobi Desert, and Shelley was no different.

Sam kicked him under the table.

Dean looked at him with an expression that screamed, "WHAT?!" but Sam had turned his attention to Shelley.

"I'll have the usual tonight," he said, and she nodded.

"One bratwurst special coming up," she said, and looking at his brother, her voice softened. "And for you, Dean?"

"The same," he smiled, grabbing Sam's menu and passing both to her, making sure their fingers brushed in the process.

"You got it," she said somewhat breathlessly. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"We'll let you know," Sam said with an edge to his voice. "Thank you."

As soon as Shelley left, Dean's pleasant demeanor vanished and he scowled at his brother. "What the fuck was that all about?"

"We might be leaving in a few days."

"Yeah. And?"

"Don't you think it's a little late to be starting something with her?"

"I was only flirting, Sammy. I do it all the time."

"And she deserves better than that."

"Better than me?" He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose anything's possible."

Sam just sighed. Anything was possible with Dean, but it was too bad his brother could be so impossible at times. He liked Shelley--she was cute, sweet, and he didn't want to see her hurt by his brother's insensitive romancing--and that was all. His irritation had nothing to do with the twinge of jealousy he'd felt when he saw their fingers meet under the menus or the smile on his brother's face. Nope, not a damn thing. He was just worried about Shelley's feelings getting hurt. That's all. Her feelings. Not his own.

Sam set his butter knife in front of him and gave it a twist, making the tarnished utensil spin in uneasy circles on the cracked wood of the table. Every time it looked like it was about to slow down, he gave it another twist. He was able to keep the knife spinning for about three minutes before Dean slapped his hand down over the knife.

"Would. You. PLEASE. Stop that. Jesus, Sam, what's gotten into you?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I think I'm just a little restless. Maybe you're right. Maybe it is time to move on."

"Thank you!"

"Right after we visit the Rock tomorrow."


Sam smirked, an expression he was using a lot more now that he was always around Dean. He liked the idea that his brother was rubbing off on him, and that he was starting to catch some of his own mannerisms in Dean, though he would probably be a little scared if they started completing each other's sentences. He wanted to have some things in common with him, but not that many.

When the food arrived, they shoveled it down like two starving men, and then they made their way back to the motel. They took turns showering and once their evening rituals were complete, they crawled into bed. Ever since the night of the attack, they'd agreed the safest thing for them to do would be to share the same bed. It just wouldn't look good for a couple of badass demon hunters to sleep in the car every night because they were afraid of the monster under the bed. Therefore, each night they surrounded the bed with salt and blessings and layers of wards to keep them safe, and then both lay down under the covers to sleep.

Sam didn't mind at all. It was kind of nice knowing his brother was just an arm's length away, or sometimes closer considering they more often than not woke up tangled around each other. Sleeping with another person was something Sam had gotten used to while living with Jess, and he supposed he just naturally gravitated towards the other warm body in the bed. Why Dean was more often than not the one who made the first move, Sam wasn't quite sure, but he'd be lying awake, trying to sleep, and suddenly find Dean's arm around his chest.

The first time it had happened, he'd thought Dean was just messing with him, so he'd thrown the arm off. When the arm returned a few minutes later, he'd rolled over to yell at his brother only to discover he was fast asleep. Sam had been so stunned that he had just watched him. While anyone else would relax in their sleep, not Dean. No, his brother managed to look at peace and yet vigilant at the same time, ready to jump up and fight at any second, unable to rest even in his dreams.

The thought saddened him.

Their lives had done that to Dean, had made him so wary that he couldn't even sleep without worrying about what might be waiting for him to let his guard down. While Dean didn't seem to mind, Sam did. His brother deserved better. They both did. And even now, after having accepted that this was his life despite all those years fighting against it, he still couldn't help wishing for more. Maybe one day they'd finally find the thing that had killed Jess and their mother, destroy it, and then allow themselves to settle down.

What would Dean be like, he wondered, if he had a chance at a normal life? Sam couldn't picture him in the role of accountant or lawyer, though he was good enough with kids, so he could see pediatrician. But Dean would better fit an outdoor life, one with lots of activity. Maybe not farming, but perhaps something with Parks & Rec. A ranger in Glacier National Park, maybe or Big Bend. Or perhaps he'd run one of those outdoor outfitting places that offered whitewater rafting and hiking in the summer and skiing in the winter.

Sam smiled. He could see Dean doing that--working all day outdoors and then returning home at night, eyes still glowing because he was doing something he loved. He'd play with the kids until it was time for them to go to bed, where he'd tuck them in and read them a story while they fell asleep, and then he'd sit snuggling by the fire with his wife, listening to her talk about her day and feeling happy just to be alive. That was the life Dean deserved.

Too bad he'd never get it.

Sam scooted closer to his brother until he could feel the touch of Dean's breath on his face. He continued to lie there, watching his brother sleep, wishing he could do something more for him, until his eyes closed and the next thing he knew it was morning and he was waking up to find Dean watching him.

After that first time, Sam had come to expect it. He would fall asleep watching Dean, and he'd wake up with Dean watching him, and they would always be connected somehow, whether it was by a hand or an arm or a leg. They never said anything to each other about why they slept this way, they just accepted it.

"This is. . . the BIGGEST. . . goddamn rock. . . I have ever climbed," Dean huffed as he paused, pretending to take a look out over the horizon when really he just needed a chance to catch his breath.

"As soon as we reach the top--"

"IF we reach the top," he corrected.

"--I'm going to collapse flat out on my back and not move for an hour," Sam said, leaning against his brother for support.

"Just make sure you don't fall on me," Dean agreed, shifting his weight against Sam's.

It wasn't that they were out of shape--on flat land, they were unstoppable, but this was far from flat. While the hike to the summit of Enchanted Rock was relatively short, it included an incline of 425 feet up the Rock's face, and for people used to sitting in a car all day, it was a whole new experience for their bodies. A new and unpleasant experience.

"Come on," Sam said, slapping his brother's chest as he turned and faced the other half of the granite mountain. "Just think of how good we'll feel when we reach the top."

Dean groaned but began dragging his feet along the path. "I'm going to be dead by the time we reach the top. And it'll be all your fault. We're not going to find anything and when you finally admit that, you'll realize we'll have gone through this torture for nothing, and I'll be dead."

"You know, you'd save a lot more breath if you stopped bitching."

He muttered something that Sam couldn't have possibly caught, but his brother flipped him the bird anyway. Dean chuckled, and began hustling up the Rock. Best to just get it over with so he'd at least have a chance to look around before he had his heart attack.

"Come on, bro," he said as he passed Sam on the trail, "beat you to the top!"

"You wish!" Sam grinned and broke into a run.

Their momentum lasted about one minute, but they continued to race at a fast climb up the Rock. When the end was finally in sight, Dean gathered the last of his energy and ran the remaining few feet to the top.

"Yes!" he shouted, holding his arms in the air and jumping up and down on the Rock. "I win!"

He turned to gloat, then stopped jumping, his arms falling to his sides. "Sam?"

Dean quickly scanned the area around him and frowned when it looked as if he was alone on the Rock. That couldn't be right. They'd either passed or been passed by a couple dozen hikers on the trail up. The granite mound should have been crawling with people, but instead, there wasn't a single soul to be found.

"SAM? Sammy, where are you!" he shouted as he began running around the summit, searching for his brother--or anyone, for that matter. When he looked down the side towards the parking lot, his legs nearly gave out from under him. The parking lot was gone. The picnic tables, the grills, the cars, HIS car--HIS IMPALA!, all were gone. And so was his brother.

Oh shit. He'd reached the top and then had actually had a heart attack. He was dead, and Sam--Sam was all alone.


"No good. Can't hear you."

"What?" Dean whirled around to see a man sitting with his back to him on the granite surface. Okay, where the hell had he come from? "What did you say?"

"I said it was no good. He can't hear you. Which should be obvious by the fact that he's not here."

"Am I dead?"

The man gave a sort of half snort, half sneeze. "And leave me stuck with you here for eternity? I wouldn't wish that on either of us."

So he wasn't dead--good to know. But that left a whole slew of other questions, and Dean's eyes narrowed as he slowly approached the old man. "Who are you? What have you done with Sam? I swear, if you've hurt him--"

"Your brother is safe," he said calmly.

"Then where is he?" Dean demanded as he drew closer another couple of feet.

"You'll find him where you left him."

"And where is that?"

"In your own time." The man turned to look at him with eyes that were so dark, they appeared depthless, and Dean bit back the series of swear words and threats that had been about to erupt from his mouth. His newfound companion was an ancient Native American with dark weathered skin, gray hair that hung in a long braid down his back, and though he was dressed in jeans and a red and white plaid flannel shirt, Dean could sense there was something otherworldly about him.

Great, just what he needed--another demonic bounty hunter out to kill him.

The man's lips curled, the skin around his eyes crinkling easily as he chuckled. "I'm not going to kill you. I just wanted to see you for myself."

"See me? Why would you want to see me? Who are you?"

The man shrugged and turned his gaze again out towards the land. "That's not important."

Dean heaved an aggravated sigh and tried to keep hold of his temper. There was no point in pissing off the only person that could put him back where he belonged, but he wouldn't have minded getting at least one shot in.

"Glad you think so, Cochise. Can you send me home now?"

The man's expression darkened. "That's not my name."

"I don't care if your name's Tap Dances With Prairie Dogs. I need to get back to my brother!"

"Why is it you white men always assume we're named Tonto or Cochise or some stereotypical convoluted name related to nature? How do you know my name's not Bob?"

Dean blinked. "Is it?"

"No, but you didn't know that."

"So what is your name?"

"I don't have a name."

Dean took a deep breath, grinding his teeth as he tried once more not to strangle the man. Better to see if he could placate him, show some sort of respect, and then maybe the man would get him back to Sam.

"Look," he said with an attempt at a conciliatory smile, "I'm sorry if I've offended you. I didn't mean to. I would just like to--"

"Don't patronize me, boy. I know one of my people has told you this before, but you really shouldn't speak unless you're planning on telling the truth."

Dean's feigned pleasant expression vanished as he growled, "Lies have gotten me this far."

The man looked at him. "They won't get you out of here."

"So what will?"

"I will, when I'm ready."

Having reached the end of his rope, Dean began tearing at his hair. "All right!" he shouted. "You win! I give up! Just tell me what you want so I can get the hell out of here!"

The man sighed, shaking his head. "Why they send a white man to do an Indian's job, I'll never know, but here you and your brother are. The gods must be desperate."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence," he said sourly.

"But," the man continued as if Dean hadn't even spoken, "you were born a warrior. I can see it in your eyes. You've got the potential. You just need to focus if you're going to save your brother."

So this man knew something about what the monster under the bed had told him. But how much did he know? Deciding that information about Sam's welfare was more important than yelling at an Indian spirit until he was blue in the face, Dean took a deep breath. And then another one. And another one. And then he knelt down next to the old man.

"Why are they after Sam?"

"See?" he said, nodding with approval. "Focus. You're learning already. Your brother has power, great power."

"This power--what does it do?"

"It will give him the strength to fight evil."

Dean shook his head, confused. "But we already fight evil, and I have to say, our track record is pretty good."

The old man looked at him, eyes dancing with amusement. "You've been lucky. There are larger evils out there, evils that will be coming for you. Evils that will be coming for him."

"But why Sam?"

"His power has been lying dormant all these years, but it's tired of waiting. If he won't use it, it will use him, and if he doesn't learn to control it, they will control it through him."

"Okay," Dean said cautiously, "I admit, that scares the living shit out of me, but it's good to know. Now, what--exactly--does this power do?!"

"You are the warrior sent to protect him," the old man said, and Dean rolled his eyes at not being answered yet again. "You are young, but you will suffice. You have to be careful. You must not let your brother leave again."

"I wouldn't have left him now if you hadn't taken me away!"

"Which is why I will send you back to him."

"And that's it? Well that's not very fucking useful, is it? What about the monster under the bed? What about the demons that are after us? What about the thing that killed our mother?"

"The next time you encounter the monster under the bed, I suggest you hold on to him a little while longer."

Oh, that was helpful. "What about you? What if I want to talk to you again?"

"I will always be right here," the man said, nodding sagely. "I never move, but that doesn't mean you'll be able to find me."

Dean sighed, slapping his hands on his thighs as he stood up. "Well, thanks for a whole lot of nothing, Bob. Give Jim Morrison a big kiss for me."

The old man snorted derisively. "Morrison. Now there was a waste of potential."

Wait--what?! Dean's mouth opened to question the Indian about Jim Morrison when the world around him grew hazy and the ground beneath him seemed to shake.

"What the--oh hell."

Dean fell back onto his ass, scraping his palms on the granite, and blinked rapidly to try and clear his vision. When he could finally see again, he was looking into Sam's terrified face, as well as about half a dozen others he didn't recognize.


"Oh, thank god," his brother said, taking him in his arms and giving him a bone-crushing hug. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I. . . I don't know," he answered, not wanting to go into family business while surrounded by strangers. "Why? What do you think happened?"

Sam drew away to study his brother, still keeping his hands on Dean's shoulders as if afraid to let go. "You got to the top and you just sort of collapsed. Your eyes were open and you didn't ever blink, but your lips were moving as if you were talking to someone. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he shrugged. "I think I just took the hill a little too fast."

"That's what I thought," a man said from behind his left shoulder. "Dehydration. Here, son, take this."

Dean took the offered water bottle and twisted the lid off, taking a big drink. "Thanks, man. That helps."

"You just take it easy for a few minutes, all right?" he said, patting Dean's shoulder and wandering off, the rest of the crowd slowly dispersing once they realized Dean was going to be okay.

As soon as they were alone, Sam looked him in the eye. "You wanna tell me what really happened?"

"Later," he nodded. "Right now, I just want to get back to my car and make sure it's okay."

"What would be wrong with your car?"

"Long story."

"Can't wait to hear it," Sam said, helping him up. "You okay to walk?"

"I should be." Unless some kooky Indian spirit decides to take me for a joyride again, he added to himself.

Dean was about to step forward when he again found his arms full of Sam.

"Don't ever scare me like that again!" his little brother whispered, his voice rough with unexplored emotions, and Dean smiled and returned his embrace, soothingly rubbing his back.

"Don't worry, Sammy. I'm not going to. I'll keep you safe, I promise." That's what I'm here to do. "Now can we please get off this damn rock?"


Next story in series - The Temptation of Dean.