Chapter 4

Warning... A mention of parental incest.

Sitting up sluggishly, swinging his legs off the side of the bed, Dean answered the cell loud in the dim room. "Yeah?" uninvitingly as he washed his face with his free hand.

"Dean? You okay? You didn't call."

With a smile he answered, "I'm fine," only just stopping himself from saying his brother's name, looking over his shoulder at the still sleeping older man. He never spoke Sam's name within hearing distance of John Winchester. He let the sheet slip, leaving him naked, as he rose from the bed and headed into the bathroom, quietly closing the door.

As if he knew, Sam's voice turned cold, "He's there isn't he?"

"Yeah. In bed." Then thought shit. But he was so used to telling Sam near everything.

"At this time?" scandalised, then quieter, "Is he hurt?"

"No," not liking the almost hope in Sam's voice. "Late nite."

"You on a hunt?"

"Yes." Dean closed his eyes and dropped his head. He had never lied to Sam. Not about real stuff anyway, 'pranks' aside. Now it was a common occurrence.

"You okay?" concerned.

"Yes," smiling. Sometimes his brother could be a complete mother hen.

"You sure?"

"Yes!" with a laugh.

"Dean. Leave him."

"I can't. Sammy, I don't trust him."

"But… Damn it. I can look after myself."

"No. I won't risk it. I'll keep him away from you."

"Why? Why do you have to? Come here. If you think I can't protect myself, fucking come here and do it for me!"

"Sammy!"

"I'm not twelve. I'm twenty and I don't want you with him!"

"Sam. Please!" he begged. He could cry from the emotion in his brother's voice, for his desire that it could be so.

"No. Damn it! Dean! Why the Hell are you doing this? Either come here or go home."

"But I still don't know why. He won't tell me."

"I don't fuckin' care anymore. It's not worth it."

"Yes, you are."

Silence then as they both took a breath to calm the emotions between them.

"Dean? What are you doing?" Sam had a really bad feeling. He remembered a lot from the time before. Much more than he had never admitted to anyone. Things that had never really registered, that had not made sense. He was older now, now he understood.

"What d'ya mean? I told you. I'm keeping you safe."

"No, Dean. What are you doing with him?"

"Hunting, drinking," a note of fear in his voice. Sam was fishing for something but Sam must never know. "Women. You can guess," making his voice light. He was imagining it. His brother was perceptive but he did not have a clue. It was just his own guilt making him think that.

"Okay. Okay then. Don't forget to phone on Thursday," Sam said softly knowing his brother too well to expect him to tell him. He hated it when Dean insisted on shielding him from things. He loved him for wanting to.

"I won't," even quieter. He could never forget Sammy. He was always in his mind.

"And don't forget to phone Dad."

"Sam!" relief entering his voice.

"Dean!" but with a laugh making Dean feel better than he had in days. "See ya. Luv ya." Something they had been saying to each other for years.

"See ya. Luv … I love you, Sam. Don't forget that."

"Never," softly, with commitment.

Closing the phone, Dean let his head drop. That was why he felt like shit. Why he was hung-over, feeling used. Why Dean had still been in bed at gone noon. He loved his brother.

Using, then leaving the bathroom, Dean gazed at the man sat leaning against the headboard watching, waiting for him. "Who you talking to?"

Shrugging his shoulders, moving to pick up his jeans, "Just a friend."

John made a disbelieving grunt, "Sure you were."

Dean ran a hand through his hair as he stretched, licking his lips, making a show of it.

"Come here," as John threw back the sheet.

Dean looked at the man, looked at what he was stroking with one hand, his other arrogantly behind his head and, dropping the jeans, slowly moved to kneel on the bed, crawling up to settle between John Winchester's spread legs. Bending down, he began once more to distract the man from thinking about the person he had been talking to.

==000==

It had been nearly two years since he had seen his brother face to face.

"Dad's missing."

"What d'you mean, missing?"

"He went on a hunting trip a few days ago and he's not come back."

"But I spoke to Dad this afternoon. He's not missing."

"Not Bobby. John."

"Jess? Will you excuse us a moment please?"

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I finnished it there but i think i may need to continue this. please let me now if i should. Cheers.