"So Dean's your brother," Jessica suggested when Dean went into the kitchen to find them some beer.
Sam nodded, sitting down next to her on the couch and clasping his hands between his knees. He was still pumped up on adrenaline, flooded with the need to run, to get the hell out of this place where demons knew he lived, where they were hunting him, where they were possessing and killing his friends to get to him. Sitting still right now was a serious challenge for Sam.
"Yeah, that's right," he agreed.
"And you two are demon-hunters," Jessica clarified.
"Demons, ghosts, werewolves, monsters you ain't even heard of," Dean said as he came back with the beers, crooked grin lighting up his stupidly handsome face, making Sam wish they were alone so he could kiss him.
Not that he would, of course. That boat sailed long ago.
"You're serious." Jessica returned Dean's grin with a hesitant smile as she accepted the opened beer.
Sam shook his head at Dean's beer offer, clenching his jaw in his effort to control his frustration. They needed to go, damn it, not sit here drinking casually like everything was fine.
"Drop dead serious," Dean nodded, sitting down on the crate they used as a coffee table so his knees brushed Sam's and their three bodies formed a triangle. "There's things in the world that wanna kill you, wanna eat you, and then there's hunters, like us. Saving the world from evil, one creepy, scary, monstery thing at a time. That's what we do."
Jessica stared incredulously from one to the other Winchester, obviously looking for some sign that they were messing with her. Sam returned her gaze with a shrug and an eye-roll. He suddenly decided that beer sounded good after all, and he grabbed it out of Dean's hand so fast their fingers brushed, sending little sparks of lust up Sam's arm and straight to his dick.
Damn Dean, anyway.
"It's true," Sam let out a resigned sigh after taking a long swig of his beer. "What he says is true, Jess. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. It's supposed to be a family secret." He shot a glare at Dean, whose infuriating grin just got brighter, lighting up his face until Sam had to look away, feigning disgust.
"Okay," Jessica took a deep breath. "Wow. So you two aren't just brothers, you're also brothers-in-arms, which explains..." she gestured between them, and Sam frowned, looking down at where his knee was pressed against Dean's, warm and reassuring.
Jessica cleared her throat.
"So, what Dean said back in the library," she shifted sideways a little, pressing against Sam's other knee. "About something coming for me."
Sam sucked in a breath, looked up at Dean before turning to Jessica. "He didn't mean that," he said quickly. "He was just guessing. No way could he know that."
"Sam," Dean warned. "They know where you are. You just sent one of them back to Hell. You know old Yellow Eyes won't just sit back and let that go. He'll send another demon as soon as he can."
"Not necessarily," Sam argued. "Jesse said I've got three years..."
Dean shook his head. "They're stepping up their game," he insisted. "No way they're gonna wait three years."
"You don't know that! Just because Brady said it...Demons lie, Dean, you know that!"
But Dean hadn't heard Brady say that, couldn't know Brady had told Sam the demons were coming for him sooner. And Sam hadn't planned on telling him, didn't want to involve Dean in something that Sam could handle on his own. Sam should handle this on his own, since it was all his fault in the first place.
Dean was staring at him now, smile gone. "What did Brady say, Sam?" he demanded.
So Sam took a deep, shuddering breath and told Dean what the demon had said, confirming Dean's suspicions, and even Sam had to admit Dean's instincts were right on the money, as usual.
"You mind tellin' me why you decided to keep this to yourself?" Dean demanded when Sam finished.
When Sam didn't answer, just shook his head and lowered his eyes, muttering, "Seemed like a good idea at the time," Dean jumped to his feet, towered over Sam with one fist clenched, the other first still gripping his almost-empty beer bottle.
"What the hell, Sam! Huh? You didn't think it might be a better idea to let big brother in on the change in plans? Huh?"
"I was gonna tell you, Dean," Sam started to protest, still unable to look up, raising his eyes as far as Dean's crotch before looking down again, cheeks suddenly flushed with more than just guilt at being caught out on a lie-of-omission.
"Oh yeah?" Dean was getting loud and belligerent now, and Sam could feel Jessica cowering next to him. "When, Sam? Huh? And what the hell were you doing exorcising that demon by yourself anyway? Couldn't wait a few minutes for me to get there? What was that, Sam? What about our promise to each other never to take these things on alone, huh?"
"It was in my friend, Dean," Sam protested, knowing how lame he sounded. "I needed it gone as soon as possible. Yesterday, in fact. If I could've just gotten to him before the demon hurt him..."
"But you didn't," Dean was pacing now, anxiety and anger pouring off of him in waves. "You can't save everybody, Sam, you know that!"
"I had to try," Sam insisted. "I couldn't leave him like that one minute longer than I had to."
"You could've got yourself killed!" Dean practically shouted at him, and Sam understood his anger now, recognized it as fear for him, for Sam.
"I knew what I was doing," Sam said, keeping his voice low and insistent, soothing. "It's not like it's my first demon."
Dean stopped pacing to glare at him, and Sam stared back, aware of Jessica watching them both, mouth hanging open a little.
"Yeah, well, next time, wait for me. You got me? Just wait!" Dean said finally, deflating in the face of Sam's confidence and reassurance. Then his eyes flicked back and forth as a new idea occurred to him. "We gotta get out of here. Now."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Dean." Sam practically gasped with relief. Finally.
"Okay," Dean nodded, taking control again, although Sam could tell he was scared. They both were. "Pack your bags. You've got ten minutes. I'll call Bobby, see if he can find us a safe house in the area. You, too." He nodded at Jessica as he pulled his phone out, headed toward the kitchen.
Sam stood up like a shot. "Dean, she can't come with us!" he protested. "It's not safe!"
"A lot safer than leaving her here alone," Dean noted as he raised the phone to his ear. "She's got a target on her back a mile wide, Sam, and you know it."
Which is how they all ended up in the Impala an hour later, heading north on I-5 toward Roseburg, Oregon. Bobby knew a hunter who owned a cabin on the Oregon Coast, which was as good a place as any to reconnoitre and plan their next move. Bobby seemed to agree that it was a good idea to lay low for now, especially given the fact that John had been missing for over a month, and it was generally known that he'd been following a lead on the thing that killed his wife when he disappeared.
Sam accepted this news with a long exhale of breath and a shake of his head.
"Over a month, huh? And you didn't let me know because..."
Dean glanced at the rearview mirror, confirming that Jessica had fallen asleep in the backseat before he answered.
"Yeah, well, at first I thought I knew where he was," he explained, staring into the darkness on the road ahead. "He was in the middle of a hunt. Some poltergeist near Poughkeepsie. He asked me to join him there after I was done with this other job in Connecticut, so when Bobby called to say he hadn't checked in, I just assumed. You know. He's Dad."
"Yeah, I know," Sam nodded, trying not to think about how good it felt to be in the family car again, how the familiar smells and feels of home were nearly overwhelming his senses. "Dean, please tell me you weren't hunting alone again."
Dean frowned and tapped his fingers on the wheel, so Sam knew he was about to hear a lie.
"What? No. I was with Rusty," Dean said. "Well, part of the time, anyway. He had to go meet Travis in Illinois about halfway through, so I finished up on my own. Piece o' cake, Sammy. Simple salt-and-burn. Nothin' to it."
"Right," Sam scoffed, glancing at Dean's familiar profile, fighting down the panic he always felt at the thought of Dean hunting without him.
"Anyway, when I got to Poughkeepsie, I found the motel where Dad was staying, but he was gone. Left his clothes, his journal, even his jacket."
"He left his journal?" Sam frowned. "Did you work the case?"
"I did," Dean nodded. "It was done. Witnesses confirmed Dad had been there, expelled the poltergeist. The family was pretty shaken up, but mostly grateful. Planning to sell, though; no surprise there."
"Did Dad check in with the family after he got rid of the poltergeist?" Sam asked, and Dean nodded again.
"The family said he told them their house was clean, gave them his card so they could call him if they ever have any more problems. That was about three days before I got there."
"And they didn't have any idea where he was going next?" Sam asked.
Dean shook his head. "I've spent the last month retracing his steps, going back over every case he was on for the past year, trying to see if he left any clues about where he was headed."
"I'm guessing you got nothin'," Sam stated the obvious. "Which leads me to ask again, why didn't you tell me? We could've been working this together."
Dean shot a look that took Sam's breath away. How his brother could convey so much pain, fear, and guilt in a single glance just staggered Sam. Made his heart race and his hands sweat.
"I was handling it, Sam," Dean said, his voice shaking only a little, but Sam could hear it. "You were at school. Anyway, I was on my way to get you when you called."
Sam hunched down on the seat, bottom lip sticking out in a pout, angrier than he would admit at the idea of Dean dealing with their father's disappearance all alone for a whole month. He felt guilty for not being there to help, frustrated because the trail was cold now and whatever help he could've offered a month ago would be lessened considerably by time and missed opportunities. He felt angry with Dean for hunting alone after he had promised not to. Then he felt guilty again for being at school in the first place, pretending that his life could resemble a normal person's in any way.
He glanced in the rearview mirror at his sleeping friend and felt another stab of guilt. Sam had done this to her, had brought the evil that haunted him right up to her front door. She didn't ask for this, hadn't even known about it when she decided to befriend Sam, and now she was on the run from something she couldn't even protect herself from. Jessica had called her parents before they left the apartment, leaving a voicemail letting them know she was going away on a little road trip with some friends. It was only a week before spring break, so it wasn't the most unlikely time to go. But when she asked Sam how long they'd be gone, all he could do was shake his head. She didn't press him on that point again, maybe because she was still in shock, maybe because she understood instinctively that her life had been radically altered this night, and that nothing would ever be the same again.
Either way, it was Sam's fault, just like Brady's death. He'd been a fool to try to go to school, to try to fit in and pretend he could have a normal life. Evil had followed Sam around all his life; for a little while he and Dean had managed to keep the worst of it at bay, had even managed to go on the offensive and take down a few of the nasty things, saving a few people in the process. But Sam knew in his heart that he was tainted, marked for evil from birth, and there wouldn't ever be a way for him to escape from that, or win out over it. Ultimately, the evil that chose him would come for him, and there wouldn't be any way he could stop it.
"Hey," Dean's low voice cut through Sam's self-pitying inner musings, his hand reaching out to grab Sam's away from his mouth, where Sam had been worrying his fingernails with his teeth. He kept hold of Sam's hand, lacing their fingers together on the bench between them.
"I know what you're thinking," Dean said, eyes straight ahead on the road, at the darkness beyond the Impala's headlight beams.
"Yeah?" Sam scoffed, glancing down at their clasped hands, surprised and touched that Dean would allow such a display of affection.
"Yeah," Dean nodded, shooting his brother a quick glance. He looked down at their hands, then pulled his away gently to put it back on the wheel. "You're brooding. It won't help."
Sam took a deep breath, sliding both palms down his thighs, the left one still tingling from Dean's touch.
"I can't go back," Sam stated simply, letting out his breath in a long sigh. "Neither can Jess."
"For now, maybe," Dean agreed. "While things are so hot. But once we figure this thing out, find that yellow-eyed bastard and put an end to all this demon shit, you'll go back. You deserve that life, Sam, and I'm gonna make sure you get it."
"That's just it, Dean," Sam shook his head. "Even if we do manage to kill Azazel, figure out a way to stop whatever it is he's planning, there'll always be another monster to stop, another family that needs saving."
"Let other hunters worry about that," Dean growled. "You deserve a life, and I'm gonna be sure you get it. End of story."
Sam gazed baldly at Dean's familiar profile, warmed by his words, more comforted than he could express by Dean's mere presence. He was starting to think it didn't matter so much what he did with his life, as long as Dean was in it. It'd always been that way, as long as he could remember, but he'd also wanted out of the hunting life, wanted to put all the danger and violence behind them. But maybe getting out wasn't as important as it used to be. Maybe the most important thing was sitting right here, next to his brother, doing whatever needed doing.
"When this is over, I want to go with you," Sam said softly. "Wherever you go, I wanna be there."
Dean raised an eyebrow and shot a quick glance at him. "Get some rest, Sam," Dean directed, and suddenly Sam realized how tired he was. "I'll wake you up when we get there."
Sam hunched down on the bench again, trying to get comfortable, wrapping his arms around himself and closing his eyes. It had been a really long night, full of shock and grief and fear, and Sam was out as soon as his head hit the window, dead to the world in that dreamless sleep that only happened when he was with Dean.
It was light when Sam woke up. The car had stopped, and Dean and Jessica were gone, and Sam had a moment of panic before he saw them, buying supplies in the little convenience store next to the gas pumps. Dean's eyes met Sam's as he strode out of the store, smart-ass smirk lighting up his eyes as he tossed a protein bar into the cabin of the car.
"Breakfast," Dean announced as Sam caught the snack. Then he slung the plastic bag of supplies into the back seat and reached for the gas pump.
Sam climbed out of the car and stretched, taking in the cloud-covered sky, the thick, dark evergreens stretching as far as the eye could see up the two-lane highway, the damp salt-tinged air of the Oregon Coast range.
"Where are we?"
Dean shrugged. "About an hour out of Roseburg, I'd say," he answered as he started the gas pump and lifted the hose.
"Hey! You can't do that here!" A kid in a baseball cap and baggy jeans appeared suddenly from around the back of the convenience store, where he'd obviously been smoking 'cause Sam could smell it on him, not to mention read it in his over-sharing mind.
Dean put the pump back and raised his hands in mock-surrender. "Sorry," he muttered as he backed away. "We're from out of state."
"Yeah, I figured," the kid nodded. "We get a lot of Californians here. They don't know the law. You from California?" The way he asked, voice dripping with suspicion and disgust, made Sam and Dean shake their heads quickly.
"No, no," Dean said. "We're from Kansas, actually."
Sam darted a glance at Dean. It always surprised him a little when Dean claimed their real home, which for Dean was a place of so much pain and heart-break. For Sam, of course, Lawrence had always been "home," although he knew it was only that way because of his childhood dreams. The reality of the place was nothing but tragedy and destruction. It was just his fucked-up brain that made it feel like home to Sam, more evidence of how messed up he was.
The kid had checked their plates by this time, confirming Dean's words as he started the pump.
"That's a long ways away," the kid commented. "I never met anybody from Kansas before. They got those tornadoes there, right? Big storms that can pick up a house, like that movie with them flying monkeys."
"That's right," Dean nodded as Sam's attention wandered. Dean could be so patient with morons sometimes. At this hour of the morning, they were the only customers here, and from the small number of cars that had passed on the road while they'd been here, Sam would guess they didn't get many customers the whole day. No wonder the kid was so chatty. He was probably bored out of his mind, like most young people in small towns. His mind was filled with thoughts of drinking, ATV-riding, and porn featuring busty lesbians twice his age. It made Sam's head hurt.
Sam took a few steps away from the car, keeping one eye on Dean, the other on Jessica, who was still in the store, and pulled out his phone. John had given him this phone, pre-programmed with John's number, over a year before, with the command to use it if anything came up. Until now, nothing had. At least, nothing that Sam couldn't handle.
But he could sense Dean's fear, even if he couldn't read his mind. He could sense the pain at the thought that John would abandon him deliberately and never return his calls, and Sam couldn't stand that.
"It's me," Sam spoke softly into the phone when John's number went straight to voice mail. "Everybody's worried about you. We've got a new lead on the demon; I'm sure Dean's already told you about that, but -- There's other stuff we need to talk about, Dad, so please call me. Or call Dean. Let us know you're still alive, at least."
Sam ended the call with an angry punch. Damn John, anyway. He'd been doing this all their lives, running off after some lead without letting them know where he was, without answering Dean's increasingly frantic calls. Sam was sick of it. Sick of the way it hurt Dean. And now that they had so much intel on Azazel and other kids who'd been kidnapped like Sam had been, now that they knew that John had been trying to summon the demon -- It was just irresponsible of John to take off without keeping in touch with someone.
Irresponsible, maybe, but so typical. It made Sam even angrier now that they knew things were heating up, now that more demons were probably on their way from Hell, probably pissed off at the Winchesters for stirring things up. For messing with their plans.
And of course John would choose this moment to disappear.
Jessica had come out of the convenience store and was looking lost and anxious, standing helplessly just a few feet away with a plastic bag of snack food dangling from her fingers.
"Hey, Jess," Sam tried to smile. "How're you doing? You reach your folks yet?"
Jessica's eyes filmed over with tears as she shook her head, looking away from him as she swiped the back of her hand over her nose.
"Mom gets up really early to walk the dog," she said. "It's not like her not to call back. I texted my sister to ask her to check on them."
Sam had a bad feeling about that, but he didn't say anything. Maybe it was nothing. There was always a chance.
"Did you get ahold of your dad?" Jessica asked, and Sam shook his head.
"But that's normal," Sam hastened to assure her. "Dad's always disappearing. He's good at it. When he's working a case, especially one that's really important or where he thinks he's close to something big...He can go deep underground like nobody's business. He knows how to cover his tracks. Keep well hidden."
"Even from his own sons?" Jessica sounded skeptical, worried for him, and it occurred to Sam that she was taking her mind off her own anxiety by empathizing with him, trying to put herself in his shoes.
"Yeah. Especially us," Sam confirmed. He put his hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him, trusting and brave, and he could barely stand it. Didn't deserve it. "Hey, it's gonna be okay," he lied.
Jessica stared into his eyes for a moment, seemed to find the strength or reassurance she was looking for and smiled shakily. She nodded, then let Sam pull her into his arms for a long hug, pressing her body along the length of his and burying her face in his shoulder.
"Hey, when you two lovebirds are done there, we need to hit the road," Dean's warm baritone cruised into Sam's soul, made him lift his head so his eyes met his brother's over Jessica's shoulder. Dean was giving him a bemused smirk, and Sam frowned, pulled back from Jessica's embrace.
"Okay?" He asked, holding her shoulders as she brushed the back of her hand over her eyes.
She nodded, let him lead her back to the car and tuck her into the backseat before shooting another bemused frown at his brother.
Dean shrugged as he slid into the driver's seat, glanced into the rearview mirror at Jessica.
"Nothin," Dean said as he cranked the car to life, pumping the pedal to make her roar before peeling out onto the road.
When they reached the cabin, Sam and Dean lay down salt-lines and gathered firewood while Jessica tried calling her family again, this time from the land-line in the cabin, since cell service was sketchy. Then Dean called Bobby, who confirmed that reports of demonic activity had picked up in the past week or so, mostly in California, but also in Wyoming, Illinois, and Kansas.
"You kids just stay put, now," he told them sternly. "Use those protection charms I gave you. Make sure that girl's got one on too. Whatever you did in Palo Alto sure got their attention. There's freak hail-storms and lightning strikes all over that area this morning. All over California, as a matter of fact. A tornado touched down in Los Angeles."
"Los Angeles?" Sam gasped when Dean repeated what Bobby had said. "Dean, that's where Jessica's family lives."
They were speaking quietly, hunched down feeding the fire as Jessica explored the small kitchen area.
Dean shook his head. "Maybe it's just coincidence," he suggested, but they both knew better.
It was almost noon when Jessica's cell phone rang. Sam's stomach lurched as he heard her voice rise, the tone of panic as she answered whoever was on the other end of the call. Her sister, presumably, given the content of Jessica's side of the conversation.
"Oh my God! Are you sure? Oh my God, Jen!" Jessica began sobbing into the phone, shaking so she could hardly hold the phone. Sam crossed the room to put a steadying hand on her back, her arm, and she slumped over into his embrace, collapsing against his chest as she heaved huge, gasping sobs, the phone slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor.
"They're dead, Sam!" she sobbed, staring up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. "My parents are dead! Somebody broke in during the night and killed them!"
"Okay, shhh, okay." Sam did his best to soothe her, rubbing his hand up and down her back as he held her, but she wasn't having it.
"No, no, I have to go," Jessica pushed away from him, staring wildly around her as if she'd suddenly realized where she was. "I have to go! My sister's there by herself and she needs me! You have to take me home!"
"The sister's probably already possessed," Dean said, low and dark and just for Sam to hear as Jessica continued to sob and pace.
Sam stared at Dean, shock rippling through him as Dean stooped down to retrieve Jessica's cell phone, punched in the redial to connect him with the last caller.
"What are you doing?" Jessica demanded, stopping her pacing to turn on Dean. "I have to go! You have to drive me home, now!"
She started to grab for Dean, as if she could physically force him to take her to Los Angeles, but Dean ducked away easily, phone to his ear as he listened, raising an index finger in a gesture for her to wait a minute.
"No, this is Dean Winchester. Who's this?" he said into the phone. "Is this Jessica's sister?" He listened another moment, then pulled the phone away from his ear and grimaced. "Not Jessica's sister," he announced to Sam. "Unless Jessica's sister is a vindictive demon with a mouth like a sailor who's mad as hell because it's just been caught trying to lay a trap."
"What?" Jessica reached for the phone but Dean held onto it, shaking his head.
"I really don't think you want to hear this," he warned.
"The hell I don't!" Jessica cried, grabbing at the phone again. "What's going on?"
This time Dean let her take the phone, and she pressed it to her ear frantically. "Jen? Jennifer? What's going on?"
She listened for a moment, then raised pleading eyes to Sam, who took the phone from her gently as she covered her mouth and clutched her stomach.
"She's gonna hurl," Dean announced helpfully as Jessica backed away from them, then turned to run to the kitchen sink, barely making it before giving up the meager contents of her stomach.
"I'll just go find some more firewood," Dean said as Sam joined Jessica at the sink, rubbing her back and holding her hair back as she dry-heaved over the stainless steel surface.
The front door shut with a click as Jessica reached for the faucet, splashed water on her face and rinsed her mouth before glancing her thanks at Sam.
"She's dead, isn't she?" Jessica took a deep breath before asking the question, composing herself, and Sam had to hand it to her; she was being incredibly brave.
"Probably," Sam agreed gently, keeping his hand on her back, rubbing reassuring circles as Jessica gazed out the window over the sink, into the dark evergreen woods behind the cabin. "Demons are usually pretty hard on the people they possess. From what we've seen, the possessed people usually don't survive." Especially when the demon has a vendetta against the family whose daughter and sister had the audacity to befriend a Winchester, he added silently. "I'm sorry, Jess."
Jessica shook her head, taking a shaky breath and closing her eyes. She leaned against Sam and let her head fall back onto his shoulder. Sam laid his hands on her hips, just holding her steady, feeling a little awkward. He wanted to give her comfort, but it didn't feel right to wrap his arms around her from behind; it was too intimate, like something he might do with a lover. Besides, Jessica had pushed her ass back against his crotch, maybe even deliberately rubbing against him, and that was definitely awkward. Then she spoke.
"I know it's totally inappropriate," she said, grinding back against him again, "but I really wish we could have hot, blinding, forget-everything sex right now."
Sam stiffened, let out a huff of breath, and gently but firmly moved back so they were no longer pressed together. He kept his hands on her arms, though, partly to keep her upright and steady, partly to keep their bodies separated.
"Jess – " he shook his head a little, and she sighed, leaning forward, away from him, then turned around to face him as he dropped his hands to his sides helplessly.
"I know, I know," she said. "I took Psych one-oh-one. It's just the shock. My emotions are all fucked up."
Sam nodded, sympathetic but careful. "Can I fix you something to eat?" he asked. "I think Dean bought some cans of soup."
"Nah, I'm still a little queasy," she said, smiling weakly at him. "I think I'll just lie down for a while."
Sam nodded, helpless in the face of Jessica's grief and shock, but willing to agree that rest was a good idea right now.
There was a single bed in the room, tucked under the stairs which led to a second floor covered with old mattresses. Dean had already claimed the single bed for himself, leaving the upstairs for Sam and Jessica. But the cabin was chilly, and the heat from the fire hadn't yet warmed the second floor, so Jessica lay down on Dean's bed, clearly not wanting to be all alone in another room right now. She curled up facing the wall, with her back to the room, and Sam covered her with the only blanket they had and left her to sleep. He was busy heating soup for himself and Dean when Dean came back, arms loaded with firewood.
"How's she doing?" he asked after putting the firewood down as quietly as possible. He smelled like smoke and whiskey, and Sam stifled a gasp as lust stabbed through his gut, making his knees weak.
"She's okay," Sam answered, forcing himself to focus on stirring the soup, keeping his back turned on his brother so he couldn't see his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. "She's tough."
"True dat," Dean agreed as he knelt to feed the fire. "That girl's a keeper, Sam."
"Shut up, Dean." Sam set the soup and a loaf of bread on the little kitchen table, then found a couple of bowls and spoons and wiped the dust off them with a dish towel.
"I'm just saying," Dean grinned as he took a seat and reached for the bread, knee bumping Sam's under the table. "After everything that's happened to her in the last twelve hours, she's holding up pretty well. If I found a girl like that, I might be tempted to settle down."
"Fine," Sam snapped. "Ask her to marry you, then. See what she says. I'm sure she's in a real marrying mood right now."
"Who said anything about marriage?" Dean winked and smirked, and Sam huffed out an exasperated breath. "Besides, you're the one she wants."
Sam shook his head, stared down at his soup, and fought down the inconvenient surge of lust that was making his dick hard and his cheeks burn.
"That's not happening, and she knows it," Sam murmured, keeping his eyes down, unable to meet Dean's teasing gaze.
"Doesn't stop her from wanting, though," Dean commented, voice a low purr so that Jessica wouldn't overhear. "Doesn't stop her from pining for you."
Sam sank his teeth into his bottom lip, biting back the moan that almost slipped out. He was hard enough to cut diamonds now, just on the sound of Dean's voice and the press of his knee.
"She'd probably let me fuck her just because I'm your brother," Dean mumbled, voice low in his chest.
Sam pushed back from the table with a start, grabbed his empty soup bowl and clambered to the sink, avoiding Dean's eyes like the plague.
"Hey, I was just stating the obvious." Dean put his hands up with a laugh.
Sam clenched his jaw and grabbed hold of the sink to steady himself before turning to glare at his brother.
"You can be a real ass sometimes, Dean," he hissed. "You know that?"
Dean's gaze fell to Sam's crotch and he flushed to the tips of his ears, blessedly speechless in the face of Sam's obvious need. He looked away and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, giving Sam some idea of the state of his own cock, which made Sam harder than ever.
Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Look, Dean, we may be stuck here for a few days, until things quiet down. That's not gonna be easy for any of us. Close quarters make for short tempers and all that. So why don't you just ease up on the porn and give us all a break, huh?"
"I think you know me better than that, Sammy," Dean said, wiping the bottom of his soup bowl with the last piece of bread before stuffing it between his full, pillow-soft lips.
Sam closed his eyes and dipped his chin to his chest. "Yeah, unfortunately, I do," he sighed. "I'm gonna go take a walk. Check out the perimeter," he added the last bit lest Dean think he was going out to commune with nature, as Dean called it when he went outside to whack off.
Nevertheless, Dean's smirk got wider and he winked again, just to be sure Sam knew what he was thinking. "Sure thing, Sammy. Enjoy your me-time."
And of course the thought that Dean was thinking about Sam's dick made Sam's dick way happier than it had any right to be.