Title: The Monster Under the Bed
Author: Dhvana
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence
Pairing: Sam/Dean, but the Wincest is implied and unrequited
Warning: on going series
Summary: Sam and Dean travel to Texas to investigate a series of mysterious disappearances and end up in danger themselves.
A/N: My muses seem to have caught the Supernatural bug and are running with it--they wouldn't let me sleep until I wrote this one, and when I woke up, they had another story waiting. Please let me know what you think!


It began on a Sunday morning in the historic town of Fredericksburg, Texas. A mother entered her daughter's room to get her up and dressed for church only to discover her daughter missing. The police found no signs of forced entry or that she'd run away; they found no clues as to where the eight-year-old girl could have gone. Except for the tangled blankets of her bed, there was no sign at all that the girl had even been in the room. It was as if she had disappeared.

On Friday, a second person turned up missing--a nineteen-year-old college student home for the weekend from Texas State. Again, there were no signs of forced entry, no clues that the boy might have run away, just the tangled sheets of his bed.

Tuesday the next week, it was an elderly woman from her nursing home bed. Saturday, a thirty-eight year old banker, single, so his disappearance wasn't noted until he failed to show up at work on Monday. There was no connection between the victims, nothing to explain why they were chosen. It seemed they had all been taken at random, their only tie the fact that they had all vanished without a trace from their beds sometime during the night. Two a week disappeared for a nearly a month and a half before these strange occurrences made national headlines and by the time Sam and Dean reached Fredericksburg, thirteen had been taken in all.

"Maybe it'll stop at thirteen," Dean said with feigned hopefulness as he drove down the crowded main street. The news of the mysterious disappearances had done nothing to diminish the town's tourist trade--in fact, the tales had probably brought in more people, drawing the morbidly curious to the town like rubber-neckers around a three-car pileup on the highway. They all wanted to slow down and get a better look.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Like it ever stops at thirteen."

"It did once. That ghost in Lynchburg."

"That the one who possessed people and then hung itself thirteen times?"

"Brought a whole new meaning to the name 'Lynchburg'," he nodded. "You found us a place to stay yet?"

"This whole town is filled with bed and breakfasts," Sam said, scrolling down the list on his laptop. "Looks like every couple in Texas makes this their destination for a romantic weekend."

"Why, darlin'," Dean cooed, fluttering his eyes, "if you wanted us to spend some time together, you didn't need to lure me here with tales of a strange disappearances. You could have just asked."

"Fuck off."

"Isn't that the point of a romantic weekend?" Dean said, stopping short to avoid hitting a casually dressed couple who walked out in front of them as if they owned the whole road. "Assholes," he grumbled.

"Here's one that looks like an old trading post--oh, and look, its bike, horse, and hunter friendly."

"At least our guns would blend right in."

"Yeah, nothing like a sawed-off shotgun to fit right in with a hunting rifle. Although, we are in Texas. No one's going to blink an eye if we're wandering around armed," he said, and continued scrolling. Something about sleeping in a dilapidated building that looked like it was about to fall down at any second did not appeal to him. "Here, the Fredericksburg Budget Inn. It's outside of town but on the main highway so it should be convenient and relatively inexpensive, and it doesn't look like it'll be a total fleabag. You should blend right in."

"You keep up with that sweet talk, Sam, and I'll have to ravage you right here."

"Ha ha," he said absently, taking his brother's comments in stride. "It looks like it's just a couple miles ahead, so keep driving."

"I will, as soon as I get out of this hell," Dean muttered, scowling at the weekend tourists who were overflowing over the sidewalks onto the street itself. "They can't all be here just for the shopping, right?"

"Well, there's also the German food and the German beer."

"Now you're talking," his brother grinned. "First thing we're going to do is find a biergarten where I'm going to drink a gallon of beer and eat my weight in schnitzel."

"Sounds disgusting," Sam said, closing his laptop and leaning his head back against the headrest.

"We've just driven from Oregon to Texas in two days. Tell me I haven't earned this."

"You could have let me drive more, and then maybe you wouldn't feel so drained."

"I'll let you bring along your laptop. That way you can do research while I gorge myself on schnitzel and sausage."

"You'll let me, huh?" he asked, arching an eyebrow, and Dean smirked at him.

"It's the least you can do since I've been driving this whole time. And if you find anything good, I'll even buy you some apple strudel with a big scoop of ice cream on top."

Sam backhanded his brother lightly across the arm. "For that, I might make you go to a winery instead."

Dean made a face that was a combination of horror and disgust and Sam started to laugh.

"Wine really isn't that bad, you know."

"Quiet, College Boy. Keep your Ivy League tastes to yourself and I'll stick with my good old dependable beer."

Sam chuckled as he kept an eye out for any more tourists with death wishes. Finally, they made it through the shopping district and to the motel, which was barely one step above fleabag status. The dilapidated trading post probably would have been a better bet, but authentic looking wear and tear usually cost more, and this place would definitely be easy on the budget.

"You wait here, I'll get the room," Dean said, hopping out of the car.

"Yeah yeah," Sam grumbled. Like they hadn't done it the exact same way a dozen times before. As usual, he sat in the car and waited while Dean secured their lodging for the next few days. Or, at least, he hoped it wouldn't take more than a few days, but he had an uneasy feeling that this particular case was going to take a little longer. So far, he hadn't found anything that would lead them to the identity of whatever it was that was causing the disappearances. He only knew that something this unusual was right up their alley, but even that wasn't a whole lot to go on.

Dean returned ten minutes later with a spring in his step and a sparkle in his eye.

"Cute, huh?" Sam commented as his brother slid into the driver's seat.

"And destined to be a fount of information, among other things."

Sam just rolled his eyes and waited as his brother pulled further into the parking lot and stopped the Impala right in front of room eighteen.

"Home sweet home," Dean said, and they both climbed out of the car.

Sam sighed with relief to feel the blood returning to normal circulation in his legs and he stretched to his full height, raising his arms high above is head, working the kinks out of everything from his toes to the tips of his fingers.

"Jesus, Sammy, sounds like you're about to come over there," Dean teased as he started pulling bags out of the trunk.

Sam ignored him and continued stretching, realizing that, yeah, the satisfied little moans and whimpers coming from the back of his throat did sort of sound like he was having sex. And, to be honest, finally being able to stretch felt almost as good as getting laid.

"We've got to start stopping more," he said, lowering his arms.

"Which would be fine, if we weren't always in such a hurry. Come on, let's get all this stuff inside and then we're going to look for that beer."

The room was nothing special. Two double beds with a faux-Western design on the bedspreads, a table and a couple rickety-looking wooden chairs next to the window air conditioner, a television locked to a surprisingly solid wooden dresser, a sink with a mirror above it in the back, and a door to the left of it which probably held the toilet and shower. The carpet was threadbare and covered in stains the identities of which he had no desire to learn, there were cigarette burns on the comforters, and the air conditioner sounded like it had pneumonia, but frighteningly enough, he'd seen worse.

Sam dumped his bags on the bed closest to the window and turned to his brother. "Let's go find that beer."

It took them twenty minutes to find a place to park and twenty minutes more to get a table at a biergarten right on the main street, but the table they did get was outside beneath a large oak tree so they were able watch the people who came and went. The tourists seemed oblivious to the town's distress. They walked around carrying shopping bags, laughing and chatting as if they didn't have a care in the world, the sunglasses over their eyes blocking out the undercurrent of uneasiness that spread through the town. The locals were ghosts in comparison--pale and jumpy, with circles under eyes that darted nervously over the faces of every newcomer, and they were noticeably quiet, none of them participating in any of the easy banter offered by the tourists or the brothers. Even Dean's charm couldn't coax an ounce of trust from them.

"This entire town's spooked," he said, and Sam's narrowed eyes looked out over the street.

"Not that they'd notice. It's just another gimmick to them."

"Well, we know better, and that's what matters."

"I guess so," Sam said, opening his laptop. "Are we reporters this time?"

Dean sipped at his beer and nodded. "I think that would be best. We can be intrusive and still blend right in. As much as a man as gorgeous as me can blend in," he said, winking at his brother.

"Right. You nearly caused an accident in the middle of the street not because you were jaywalking or anything, but because they were stopping to stare."

"It's been rough, but I've gotten used to the attention."

"Or maybe you should just look where you're going," Sam said, pulling up the document containing his few notes on the case, "because next time you might not be lucky enough to have me around to keep your ass from becoming road kill."

"What can I say, little brother, you're my hero."

"Whatever," he said, then slammed the top of the computer down in frustration. "Damnit, Dean, this is getting me nowhere. There's nothing in dad's notes, there's nothing online--it's like this thing hasn't existed before now!"

"It had to exist, Sam," Dean said, his eyes growing serious. "These things just don't suddenly appear--they all have a history. Sometimes it just takes a while to find it. We'll go check out the town's archives tomorrow, see if there's anything to be found in the old newspapers or even just the town's legends."

"Yeah, good luck with that. As far as I can tell, this place doesn't even have any decent hauntings, just a museum with rumors of flickering lights and footsteps with no source. Nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, Enchanted Rock is right up the road, but its stories primarily consist of ghost fires and strange noises and uneasy spirits. Admittedly, the Tonkawa Indians also believed that the Rock could weave spells that caused people to disappear and reappear at will, but somehow I think a big-ass piece of granite wandering around town would be kind of hard to miss."

"We can probably count out the Rock as a source," Dean nodded, taking a big drink of his beer, "but you're right. So far, we've got nothing, which means we'll just have to keep looking."

Sam sighed. There was no escaping it--more research. Any other person who'd graduated from college would have never again stepped foot in the dusty confines of unused library stacks unless they were forced to, but here he was, spending half his post-college years doing all the research he'd hoped to leave behind. Maybe he could convince Dean to let him wander around town and try and get something out of the locals.

He inwardly rolled his eyes. Yeah, right. That was about as likely as Dean donning a tutu and leotard and dancing down the main street at the height of tourist season. Ever since Lawrence, Dean had been keeping him closer than ever. Sam couldn't be out of his sight for more than five minutes without Dean freaking out. He understood that his brother was worried. He understood that what had happened in Lawrence had shaken Dean to the core and cracked his normally indestructible shield of confidence, but damn if having two shadows wasn't getting old fast.

As their server set down another beer for each of them, Sam glanced over at his brother and realized just how tired Dean was looking. A long drive did do wonders to wear him out, but Sam also knew his brother had been waking himself up throughout the night to make sure he was still there. Nothing Sam said or did could convince Dean he wasn't going anywhere and, in truth, he knew it was a lost cause, but he hated being a source of constant fear in his brother's eyes.

Maybe if he got Dean drunk enough, he'd finally be able to sleep through the night.

From that point on, Sam only took one drink for every five of Dean's and by the time they left the biergarten, his brother could hardly hold himself upright.

"Come on, Dean," Sam grinned, his arm around the swaying man's waist as he led him to the car. "I think it's time we got you into bed."

"Promishes promishes," he slurred, leaning heavily against Sam--a little more heavily than necessary he thought, but wrote it off to Dean being exhausted as well as drunk.

He stood Dean up against the car and opened the door, helping him into the seat and lifting his legs inside before shutting the door.

"Sammy Sammy Sammy," Dean murmured as Sam started the car.


"Hmm?" he said, his head lolling to the side so the bleary green eyes could attempt to focus on Sam.

"You said my name."

"I did?"

"You did. Actually, you said 'Sammy', but I figure that's close enough."


"We've had this argument before, Dean. I'm just Sam now."

"You'll alwaysh be Sammy t'me," he grinned, his whole upper half sliding down the seat until his head was in Sam's lap.

"Great," he muttered. "Just don't get comfortable down there."

His brother made a sound that was something resembling an acknowledgement and Sam let it go. It wasn't that he objected to Dean using his thigh as a pillow. It was just that it had been so long since that sort of familiar weight had been anywhere near his crotch--or so he told himself that was the only excuse--that he had to bite his lip and concentrate on the road with all his mind in order to keep from enjoying it. Fortunately, the motel was only a few minutes away and it was with no small amount of relief that he pulled into the slot in front of room eighteen.

"Dean," he said, smoothing down the light brown hair with his fingers. "Dean, we're here."

The head in his lap just murmured and snuggled closer, sending an unwilling jolt through his penis.

"Okay, that's it. Up!" Sam said, lifting Dean's head and sliding out from under it, letting it drop roughly onto the seat. He then went around to the other side and began the long ungainly process of pulling his brother out of the car.

"Shammy!" Dean protested, his voice nearing a growl. "Yur bein' a real pain 'n the ass."

"You'll thank me for it when you wake up in bed instead of in the front seat," Sam said, lugging him into the room and dumping him onto the bed he'd originally designated as his own, but at that point, the closest mattress was the best choice.

Dean chuckled as he landed on the bed, waving a drunken hand in Sam's direction. "I'll alwaysh thank you 'n we wake up 'n bed t'gether."

"I didn't say anything about us waking up together," Sam said, yanking off his brother's boots and wondering why it was this strange perverse streak only became prevalent when Dean had been drinking particularly heavily. He folded both halves of the comforter up around his brother like a burrito, and patting Dean on the knee, got himself ready for bed.

Dean didn't know what time it was when he felt the hand come to rest on his thigh. He could barely rouse himself enough to pay attention when the hand moved down the length of his leg to his ankle.

"Sam?" he asked with a fuzzy tongue and a throbbing head. He tried to look up but his skull had never felt so heavy and he let it fall back on the pillow. "Sammy, what're you doin'?"

The hand on his ankle began to tug and he realized he was sliding down the mattress.

"Sammy, this ain't funny," he growled, raising himself up enough to see the head of a dark figure peering at him over the edge of the bed. He scowled and kicked at the hand. "That's enough, Sam."

A groan from the bed next to his focused his attention real fast and he looked over to see his brother's lean body curled up under the blankets.

Oh shit.

His eyes shot back to the figure in time to see a set of white fangs gleaming in the semi-darkness of the room.

"Fuck! SAM!" he shouted, struggling as the thing began pulling even harder. "Sam, HELP!"

He began sliding faster down the mattress and he twisted onto his stomach to give himself better leverage, his hands clutching at blankets, sheets, the edge of the bed, but the thing was stronger than he was. He tried kicking at it, but it refused to let go.

This was the last--the very last--goddamn time he fell asleep without his knife under his pillow!

Fortunately, his brother's instincts finally kicked in and Sam woke up fully awake and ready to fight. "Dean!"

Sam leapt over to his bed and grabbed onto his brother's hands. He tried to hold onto him, to tear him away from the thing's grasp, but both of them continued sliding down the bed.

"Come on, Dean, hold on! Don't let go!"

But Dean could tell that the creature was too strong. They'd have to make it release him. "Sam, grab the holy water and the salt!"

Sam shook his head. "I'm not letting go!"

And then he felt it, the cold of the creature's fingers sliding beneath his jeans to touch his ankle. As soon as skin met skin, he could hear every thought that passed through its twisted mind, and he knew--he KNEW--the creature wanted him to know what it was thinking.

"SAM!" he roared. "DO IT!"

"FUCK!" Sam shouted and let go, diving for the holy water and the salt he'd placed on the table between their beds before falling asleep.

Those few seconds were enough for the creature to drag Dean almost entirely down the length of the bed. He was holding onto the corners of the mattress with all his strength, panicked eyes begging his brother to hurry, and then an immense pain rushed through his body, causing him to scream.

"Dean!" Sam yelled even as he began throwing salt and holy water under the bed.

"God DAMNIT! The fucking thing bit my ass!"

But already he could feel the monster's own pain as its skin burned beneath the assault. Finally, it couldn't take any more and released him.

"Sam, grab my hands!" he shouted and Sam dove onto the mattress, hauling him back up onto the bed.

The two lay shaking in each other's arms for several minutes, gasping for breath as the adrenaline pounded through their veins.

"Fuck," Sam eventually whispered, summing the night's events up into one neat word, and Dean could only nod.

"You can say that again."

"What the fuck was that?"

Dean looked down towards the edge of the mattress and then up at his brother. "It was the monster who lives under the bed."

Sam's eyes widened and he looked like he was about to protest, but then he nodded. In their lives, there were some things they just learned to accept. "Are you all right?"

"I'm alive, but we've got to do something about my ass. I can't believe that thing bit me."

"It was probably trying to tear a bite out of you to eat."

Remembering the images he'd received from the creature's mind, Dean nodded. That's exactly what it had been trying to do. It stole its victims from their beds, sucked the flesh from their bodies, and then ground their bones into dust. All that remained of the people it ate was a gathering of dirt beneath their beds. There was nothing else left.


Dean closed his eyes, resting his head against his brother's chest. He suddenly realized they wouldn't be able to save any of the missing, that they were forever lost to this world, but now that they had a lead, hopefully they could prevent it from happening again.

"Dean?" Sam asked, his voice filled with concern as he reached over to turn on the lamp. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Just. . ." But he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I know," Sam said softly, wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders and holding him close. "We should probably look at that bite."

"Probably," Dean said, and they both warily eyed the floor beyond the bed. "I'm guessing it's gone for the night."

"But we don't know for sure," Sam said, a tremor in his voice.

"We can't stay trapped here forever."

"I know," he said, then looked down at his brother. "It's like when we were little kids, isn't it? Afraid to get out of bed because the monster under the bed will grab us."

"Only this time, there really is a monster under the bed."

"Dean, what are we going to do?"

Sighing, he reluctantly removed himself from his brother's arms. "I'm going to get up and make sure it's gone, just like when we were kids."


"Sammy, it's all right," he said, forcing a smile as he met his brother's terrified eyes. "I really do think it's left. You hurt it pretty bad."

Sam gave a tentative nod, but kept hold of Dean's hand as his brother slid off the mattress and looked under the bed. He knew it was gone. He'd seen the thing's intent to flee back to its realm and nurse its wounds, which meant Fredericksburg and its surroundings were safe for a while, but it never hurt to be sure.

"I don't see anything. It's gone."

But Sam didn't let go of his hand until Dean was on his feet again, though he was standing rather awkwardly thanks to the pain in his butt. He leaned over, trying to get a good look, but he couldn't see a thing.

"Sam?" he asked, turning his back to his brother. "What do you think?"

Sam crawled forward on the bed to get a closer look. "From here it looks like your jeans helped protect you--there's still some blood there, but not a lot, so I don't think it's very deep. I won't be able to know for sure, though, until I can see the bite itself."

"Any excuse to look at my ass," Dean said with a dramatic sigh as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans.

"Trust me, if I wanted to look at your ass, I'd just spy on you in the shower. I wouldn't get a demon to try and take a chunk out of you."

"Gee, Sammy, you think about me in the shower?" he grinned, distracting him enough so that Sam was still sputtering with indignation when Dean pulled down his jeans and boxers.

The sight of the bite was enough to make him go quiet and he was silent enough that Dean started to get worried.

"Is it really that bad?" he asked, then stiffened as he felt his brother's tentative touches over his skin. Goosebumps rose as Sam's fingers grew bolder, circling the outline of the bite, coming just close enough to brushing the part in his cheeks. Worried about his growing reaction, he shifted and Sam jumped.

"I've never seen anything like it," he said, his voice rushed. "We should get a picture."

"A picture? I really don't think--"

"Dean," he said, and his brother sighed.

"All right, but if I ever find any pictures of my ass on the internet, I'm going to make you pay."

Sam smirked, hesitating only a moment before letting his feet hit the floor.

"Sammy," Dean said, his voice calm as he placed a hand on his brother's arm when he passed by. "It's okay. I'm not going to let it get you."

"Yeah, but you couldn't stop it from almost getting you," he said, quickly meeting Dean's eyes before ducking his head and walking over to their gear, digging through the bags for their digital camera.

Aw, hell, Dean thought, swearing to himself. Like Sam needed another nightmare to plague his sleep and he needed anything else to feel guilty about. He was going to have to take Sam to Disneyland or something to make up for this. They were in Texas--maybe he'd settle for Six Flags. Far fewer creepy animatronic creatures to jump out at them. In his eyes, there were few things scarier than the 'It's a Small World After All' ride.

Tired of holding up his shirt, Dean stripped it off and waited, feeling more than a little ridiculous as he stood two-thirds of the way naked in the middle of the room with his dick hanging out and his brother getting up close and personal with his ass.

After five snaps and bursts of light from the flash, he twisted around to look at Sam.

"You enjoying the show?"

"You're the exhibitionist here. You tell me."

"It's the highlight of my day," he growled. "Would you please hurry up?"

Sam took one more shot and then set the camera down. "All right. You'd might as well get undressed the rest of the way and then lie down on your stomach on the bed so I can finish up."

"And with a pick-up line like that, it's no wonder you don't get laid," Dean said, and Sam punched him in the shoulder.

"I need to clean that bite before it gets infected and you know it, so stop flirting and lie down. And it's still better than any of yours."

Dean shot him a dirty look, but obeyed, choosing to lie down on Sam's bed rather than his own for obvious reasons. Placing a pillow under his chest, he folded his arms in front of him and stared defiantly at the wall.

He could do this. There was nothing weird about it. They'd had to dress each other's wounds before, and all right, never on their backsides, but it was no different from any wound he might have gotten on his arm or one of his legs. It wasn't Sam's fault that it had been so long since either of them had gotten laid that the slightest touch was enough to get him excited. He'd just have to focus on the monster under the bed and the remnants of its thoughts that were still floating around in his head in order to keep his libido under control.

One thought in particular was enough to turn his blood to ice as Sam used holy water and alcohol to clean the bite before covering it with antibiotic ointment and a bandage. All he had to do was think about the thing's slithering voice promising that as soon as they got rid of him, they would be free to go after Sam, and that was enough to keep him sober and soft.

He'd known Sam was a target. Their dad had suspected it a long time ago when that demon had taken their mother. What Dean hadn't known was that they were now setting up an offensive to come after his brother. He hadn't known that he had become number one on their hit list and there was now what was essentially a demon bounty on his head. It was why the creature had lured the brothers to Fredericksburg in the first place and they'd fallen into its trap without ever suspecting they were the prey. He didn't know where their dad stood on the demons' list, or whether or not he'd already been removed from it. The important thing was that Sam's life was in danger, and Dean needed to find out just who 'they' were before they succeeded in taking him out and gaining free access to his brother.

"There," Sam said, lightly slapping the bandage. "You're all set."

"Great. Grab me a pair of boxers, would you?"

"Just because you're hurt doesn't make me your slave," he said, but hopped off the bed anyway to find Dean some underwear.

Dean rolled over and wriggled into them, Sam carefully averting his eyes until he was through, then handed him a couple pills and a glass of water. He eyed the pills with suspicion and Sam sighed.

"For the pain. I swear it."

Still wondering whether or not they were safe, he decided out of pain and unconscious and just plain out of pain were both equally attractive options and he downed the pills.

"Good boy," Sam said, setting the glass aside and crawling into the bed next to him. "No way I'm sleeping alone," he said in explanation, and Dean gave a weak laugh, relieved that Sam had joined him without him having to ask.

"No way we're sleeping anyway."

"You should. You're hurt and you're exhausted; you've got to get some rest."

"If we sleep, we sleep in shifts."

"Or. . ." he began, and Dean looked over at him.


"Or we both sleep in the car."

Sam's suggestion was all it took. Moving as one, they jumped up from the bed and stuffed everything they owned into their bags, Dean sliding on some clean clothes and his boots before heading out to the car. The second he stepped outside, he instantly felt better, much of the tension easing from his shoulders and back. Oh yeah, getting out of that room had been a fucking incredible idea.

"I call back seat," he said, slamming the trunk down on their bags. With one look at the near-panic in his brother's eyes as Sam finished drawing a circle of salt around the car, he sighed. "Or, we could both try squeezing into the back."

It would be a little awkward and horribly uncomfortable, but if he were to be honest with himself, he didn't really want to be separated from Sam, not even by a car seat.

They arranged themselves in the back of the Impala, Dean lying on top of Sam with his head resting on his brother's shoulder so he wasn't putting any pressure on the bite.

"We used to fall asleep like this all the time when we were kids," Sam said softly once they'd settled in, one hand absently stroking Dean's hair, "only you were on the bottom."

"That's because I was heavier and would have crushed you," Dean said, trying not to feel too relaxed by his brother's touch or too safe in his brother's arms. He was the one who was supposed to protect Sammy, not the other way around, but he was so damn tired, he was having trouble staying awake.

"Besides," he yawned, "we both know that of the two of us, I'm the top."

There was an admonishing tug at his hair and Dean chuckled. "This is going to look mighty strange in the morning," he said sleepily, his eyelids growing heavy.

"We'll just say we were both too drunk to make it to the room," Sam said, his voice seeming to come from a distance even though he knew Sam's mouth was only inches from his ear.

"Sounds like a plan," he murmured, and in spite of the dull throbbing of his ass and the confusing hardness pressed against his stomach, Dean allowed himself to be carried off to sleep by his brother's comforting warmth.

Sam watched over his sleeping brother, knowing there was something Dean hadn't told him even though they hadn't really had a chance to talk about the attack. He could sense in the way those green eyes looked at him that there was something his brother was going to hold back, and he knew he'd have to fight like hell in order to get Dean to tell him. He needed to make Dean understand that best way to protect him--to protect them both--was not through ignorance, but through knowledge.

He also knew it was wrong to find the weight of his brother's body on his own so appealing, but it was better than the alternative. He could either endure the distress of an arousal that would find no release, or he could think about the fact that he had come too fucking close to losing Dean tonight. No, it was better to be hard and uncomfortable than to be terrified, to lose himself in his brother's indifferent warmth than to let his emotions overwhelm him, forcing him to spend the next two hours finding a way to cry without waking Dean.

They'd grown so close over these last few months, closer than they'd ever been before he'd left. He'd let Dean become a part of him, but with that acceptance came feelings that often left him bewildered, enraged, repulsed, and worst of all, intrigued. He hadn't taken so long to study the bite on his brother's ass because of its strangeness, but because it had taken him so long to get himself under control. He'd been close--so close!--and then to touch him...

Sam shifted beneath his brother, which did nothing to disturb the sleeping man.

He knew he had to do something about this, but his unbidden attraction seemed insignificant compared to the danger of the monster under the bed and protecting those who would become its future victims. Always, just when his urges were about to become unbearable, something came along to push his feelings to the backburner, right where they belonged if he couldn't get rid of them entirely.

But then there were times. . . rare times. . . when he thought he saw something in his brother's eyes that made him think he wasn't alone in trying to keep his attraction from boiling over, and that just made things worse. The underlying hope that the one person in the world he trusted, the one person in the world he could ever truly be comfortable with, the one person in the world he loved unconditionally and without fear, that he might feel the same. . . But he would never press Dean for an answer. Better to be right and let his feelings go unrequited than to be wrong and risk having Dean hate him while remaining bound to him through family and blood.

Right on schedule, Dean forced himself to wake up and check on his little brother. "Go to sleep, Sammy," he said, still half asleep himself. "We're safe here."

"I will," he said, unable to resist leaning down to kiss his brother's forehead. Dean smiled and returned his head to Sam's shoulder, drifting back to sleep. Sam stayed awake only a few minutes longer than decided that they were safe enough--that Dean was safe enough--he could close his eyes. He fell asleep in seconds and neither of them woke again until morning, both of them ready to hunt down and destroy the monster that slept under the bed.


Next story in series - A Little Help From Bob.