Burn it to the Ground Part One

[grianchloch]

Back to Masterpost The heavy beat of music pulsed from Babylon every time the doors opened to let someone in or out. It oozed out into the night, thick and intoxicating, enticing the bold and the beautiful of Pittsburgh into its depths to party. A tall man stood in the shadows across from the entrance. The glowing tip of his cigarette lit up his face as he drew on it, illuminating classically handsome features. He watched them come and go. Young men, bright and vibrant, full of life. In a different time, he’d been one of them, drawing admiring gazes and leaving with whomever he wanted. There’d been more discretion back then, and no open displays of affection outside the safety of the club. Now, it seemed to be common place to touch, to walk off into the night entwined around each other. He took one last draw, then threw his cigarette down, grinding it under his shoe as he stepped out of the shadows and towards the club. Taylor Harrison lost himself in the music on the dance floor, his white shirt stuck to his skin, his eyes almost closed as he moved. The club was packed, and the partygoers on the dance floor twisted and spun in close quarters, their bodies working together almost in concert as they danced. Taylor grinned as someone slid in front of him, dark eyes full of lust and promises as the man plastered himself to Taylor’s body. He recognized him from the previous week and thought his name might be Don, or Dan or something. They’d ended up at Taylor’s apartment, and as soon as Taylor was done with him, he’d politely kicked him out. Taylor smiled, half hard in his tight jeans, knowing he could take the Don into the back room and fuck him right there if he wanted to. He could have his pick of partners. All he had to do was turn his gaze on whoever he wanted in his bed, and they’d be there. It was a dizzying thought, and he pulled the man closer, kissing him as they writhed together. The music changed and Don slipped his arms around Taylor’s neck. “Do you wanna get out of here? My place is just around the corner ...” Over Don’s shoulder, Taylor spied a man standing at the end of the bar who looked out of place amongst the half dressed clientele of the club. His slicked back hair complemented the expensively tailored suit he wore, and as he sipped on his drink, his eyes raked over Taylor, and a smirk played around his lips. “Some other time.” Taylor untangled Don’s arms from around his neck and walked towards the man at the bar without a backward glance. “I like your outfit. Costume party, right?” Taylor grinned at the stranger. “No.” The stranger shrugged and went back to his drink. Taylor moved closer, not used to having to work at picking someone up, but feeling the thrill of the challenge. “Would you like to get out of here? Go somewhere quieter?” “Where did you have in mind?” The stranger moved his hand, and ran his thumb over the back of Taylor’s fingers. “My ... my apartment’s only a few blocks away.” Taylor stuttered, the small touch feeling more intimate than all Don’s groping on the dance floor had. “And why would I want to go home with you?” The stranger asked, his dark eyes almost menacing. Taylor shivered, lust curling its way down his spine. “I saw you watching me, I know you want me.” Brazenly, he jutted his hips forward, gratified when the stranger’s gaze slid down his body again. The need to please the man was alien to him, usually, it was the other way round, and he liked being the predator, but here, he felt more like the prey. And he ached for the man to take the bait. The stranger finished his drink and stood up with a smile. “Lead on.” Taylor grinned, and walked towards the doors, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the stranger was following him, impatient to get him alone. ~*~*~*~*~*~ In one of the nicer motel rooms the Winchester brothers had stayed in, Dean sprawled on the bed looking through take out menus as Sam sat at the small dining table with his laptop open, researching a possible case. Dean rolled onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows, watching Sam as his brother talked. “So whatever this thing is, it preys on narcissists. The three men it’s killed so far have all been major players on the local gay scene, known for their decadent lifestyles.” Sam flicked through the police report online. “Well off, good looking, never short of company.” “I don’t know, Sam, maybe it’s just some guy all three managed to piss off, out for revenge, or some homophobic asshole.” Dean sighed, hunger beginning to claw at his belly. “Not sure it’s our kind of gig.” Sam looked at him over the laptop lid. “They were reduced to ash with no signs of an accelerant and hardly any damage to the surrounding area. How is what looks like three cases of spontaneous human combustion not our kind of gig?” Sam went back to studying the screen and read out what he’d found. “They all hung out at the same club. Babylon. It’s got an interesting history.” “Yeah?” Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and picked up his favourite gun and a cloth. “Yeah. It was a gentlemen’s club way back in the late 1950’s.” “Gentlemen’s club?” Dean raised an eyebrow, and Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, and it was burnt out in May 1959. There was one fatality, Byron Mercer.” “He burned? If it’s his spirit, it’s gonna be tough to salt and burn the bones if he’s already ashes.” Sam nodded. “All the same, I think we should check it out. Byron was also known as a local lothario, very handsome too.” He stared at the photo on the screen, of a well dressed man with slicked back hair and an arrogant look in his eye. “Handsome?” Dean walked around and peered over Sam’s shoulder. “Suppose he was.” He shrugged. “So are we gonna look into it?” Sam turned and felt Dean’s breath warm on his cheek, he was standing so close behind him. “Okay,” Dean agreed and grabbed his coat from the bed. “Now can we get something to eat?” “As long as it’s not burgers again. Or pizza. Or chicken wings.” Sam grinned as he picked up his own jacket and slipped it on. “Or pancakes.” “How about waffles? Don’t think there’s an organic tofu dog stand in town, Sammy, and we’ve gotta eat something.” Dean grinned back and ducked out of the way of a swat from Sam. ~*~*~*~*~*~ The Impala rolled into Pittsburgh the next day and it wasn’t hard to find a motel a few blocks from Babylon to use as a base so Sam and Dean could check the place out. Dean was in and out of the bathroom in ten minutes, showered, shaved and patting his damp hair into place as Sam brushed past him with a bunch of stuff from his bag under his arm. The lock clicked into place behind him, and Dean wandered towards the bed where his bag sat, and rummaged around, looking for a clean pair of jeans. He wasn’t sure about what he should be wearing to a club where there wouldn’t be any chicks to pick up. He’d flirted with men before, mainly to get information out of them, and he could appreciate a good looking dude, he guessed. As long as no-one asked him to dance, he’d be fine. He wasn’t keen on dancing with girls unless it was slow and close and a prelude to hot sex, so there’s no way he was planning to hit the dance floor in a gay club. They’d decided earlier to split up before they got there, go in separately. It meant Sam could mingle with the locals and Dean could scope out the club, while keeping an eye on each other’s backs. Dean would have preferred that they stick together, go in as a team, but he could see the logic in Sam’s plan. His only reservation was that Sam had been almost jumpy since they’d hit town, which was making Dean antsy. “You ever coming out of there?” Dean sighed, pulling on a white tee and debating whether to wear a shirt on top. He finally decided against it. “C’mon, Samantha, what’s taking so ...” Dean stopped mid sentence when the bathroom door finally opened and his brother stepped through it. At least he thought it was his brother. Sam was dressed in tight black pants and a sleeveless black shirt that fit him like a second skin. His usually messy hair had been tamed and, well, sleek was the word that came to mind. There was also something different about his eyes … “Are you wearing eyeliner?” Dean asked suspiciously as Sam walked by him to sit on the bed and pull on his boots. “A little. We have to look the part, Dean.” “Look the part? I ain’t wearing eyeliner, Sammy.” “You don’t have to,” Sam smiled, looking Dean up and down. Dean’s trademark jeans paired with the close fitting white t shirt looked good on Dean. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll fit right in.” Sam smirked as Dean blustered, not knowing whether it had been a compliment or not. ~*~*~*~*~*~ Something was stalking the party-goers on Liberty Avenue, something that was out for blood and seemed to disappear after each crime as if into thin air. “He burns them?” Emmett had spent most of the evening glancing over his shoulder as if he was going to be snatched away by the killer at any second. Michael smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Em, he wouldn’t touch you with us around to protect you.” “No offence, Mikey, but you’re not exactly Captain Astro.” He pulled a personal alarm and a pepper spray out of his jacket and Michael threw his hands up. “Watch what you’re doing with that, okay?” Emmett rolled his eyes and stuffed his protection kit back in his bag. “Yes,” Justin butted in. “He burns them to ash, but the police haven’t figured out how.” “What do you mean?” “It’s like an unsolved mystery. Hardly anything around the bodies is burned. Their apartments were hardly damaged. They say it looks like spontaneous human combustion.” “Eeeeew.” Emmett scrunched his face up. “Why so serious?” Brian snuck up behind Justin and snaked his arms around Justin’s waist. He glanced around the small group, and smirked. “Oh, the Narcissist Killer. Apparently, he only targets the most handsome, the most desirable. So the rest of you have got nothing to worry about.” Justin rolled his eyes and shook his head. “So you’d better be careful, Brian,” Ted quipped. “Wouldn’t want you to end up barbecued.” Justin scowled and punched Ted’s shoulder. “Well, if he is going after the best, he’s obviously working up to the main event.” Brian smirked, but stepped back as Justin wrenched away from his embrace. “How can you joke about it?” Justin yelled at Brian and stormed off. Brian paused then took off after him with a long suffering sigh. “Ah, true love.” Ted watched them go. Michael was still scowling at him when Emmett gasped and, following his friend’s gaze, he saw exactly what had grasped his attention. “Yes, true love!” Emmett stared openly at the tall man standing shyly just inside the doorway. He was well over six feet tall with soft, silky dark hair, dressed from head to toe in skin-tight black which showed off toned and very nicely muscled arms. “I've never seen him around before,” Ted commented. “And if Brian thinks he’s king of the hill, he’d better watch out if he sticks around.” But Emmett was already on his feet. “Where are you going?” Michael asked. “Seizing the moment,” Emmett replied as he got up, ran down the stairs and strode across the dance floor. “What’s gotten into him?” Michael turned to Ted. “Not sure, but I think I can guess what he’d like to get into him.” Sam paused as he walked into the club. It had been a while since he'd hung out anywhere like this and knowing Dean wasn't far behind him was making him self-conscious. It felt like the first time he’d walked into a gay club, not long after he’d started at Stanford. The freedom he’d found away from his family, away from Dean, had been both scary and exhilarating, and it had given him the chance to explore sides of himself that he’d kept hidden. Not that he thought Dean or John would have judged him for not knowing whether he was into men or women, it had just been easier when he could make his own explorations and mistakes out of the family spotlight. He’d also kept it quiet because his first crush on a boy had been on Dean. Now standing in the doorway to Babylon, watching the dancers on the dance floor writhe in ways he couldn’t help but find attractive, he was nervous about Dean seeing his reactions. It was almost like being fifteen again, and having to hide a very inappropriate erection that sprouted as Dean walked out of the bathroom, stark naked, yelling about Sam using all the towels as Sam watched rivulets of water run down Dean’s skin. Sam took a deep breath, almost ready to bolt, to tell Dean that this was a bad idea, when a hand crept onto his shoulder. He turned to see who it belonged to, he found himself looking into a friendly face with a warm smile. "Would you like to dance?" Emmett asked. "Uh, yeah, okay," Sam smiled back and Emmett's hand slid down his arm, took his hand and tugged him towards the dance floor. "I'm Emmett. Haven't seen you in here before." "I'm Sam, and this is my first time. Here that is, my first time here, not my first time dancing. Or anything. That is ..," Sam flustered. "It's okay, sweetie. There's nothing wrong with being a little out of practice." Emmett grinned at Sam's nervous rambling. Drop dead gorgeous and sweet. That didn't come along very often. Sam blushed all the way down to his toes and Emmett moved closer as the music changed, the beat becoming heavier. Sam relaxed, moving his body in concert with Emmett's until they were both sweating and grinning. "Drink?" Emmett shouted above the din. "Sure!" Sam nodded and followed him to the bar. Drinks in hand, they lounged against the counter. "Sam, do you have a jealous ex?" "No. Why?" "Because there's someone watching us and he seems kind of pissed." Emmet looked pointedly over Sam’s shoulder. Sam turned to look in the direction Emmett had indicated and looked straight at Dean. Dean who was scowling at them and not exactly blending in. "No, never seen him before," Sam lied effortlessly. Emmett gasped in shock and horror as he put two and two together and came up with nine. Sam looked at him with concern. "Are you okay?" Emmett shook his head. "It might be him!" he hissed at Sam. "Him?" "The guy who's burning people up." Emmett grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him towards Michael and Ted muttering. "There's safety in numbers." Sam glanced back over his shoulder at Dean who was doing a great impression of a serial killer, which really hadn't been the idea. "This is Sam," Emmett said, introducing Sam to his friends. "And I think that’s the killer," Emmett hissed, nodding none too discretely in Dean's direction. "He's been watching Sam since he arrived. Just look at him!" Michael and Ted stared over at Dean then back at Sam, who had to nod in agreement. "He has, but I'm sure he's not ..." Emmett meeped as Dean walked past and shot Sam a look that could well have killed a lesser man. Ted's eyes widened. "Well he is new, and he does have an attitude problem." "And he is kind of hot." Michael's eyes followed Dean as he stalked away. Ted rolled his eyes. "What is it with you and jerks?" Michael scowled at Ted while Sam made observations on the little group's dynamics and wondered what had crawled up Dean's ass and died. His idiot of a brother was supposed to be scoping out the club, watching for anything unusual and keeping a discreet eye on Sam while he mingled with the regulars, but no, he had to draw attention to himself for all the wrong reasons. "That settles it. Sam is coming home with us." "I am?" "He is?" "And who's this?" Brian drawled from behind them, making Emmett jump. "This is Sam, and I think the killer may have targeted him." "Really?" Brian looked Sam up and down, his eyes raking over his well muscled form. "Yes. He has been watching him all night." Emmet nodded discretely in Dean’s direction. Brian turned and gave Dean, now standing at the bar, the same open appraisal he’d given Sam. Sam could see his brother bristling even from where he was standing. "Hmmm ... he's new too," Brian observed, noting the heated challenge in Dean's eyes. "Arrogant son of a bitch." "Pot? Kettle?" Ted said. Brian gave him a withering look and turned his attentions back to Dean. "Bet I could fuck that right out of him." Sam choked on the mouthful of beer he'd just taken and Brain eyed him as Emmett patted him on the back. "So both of you turn up on the same night. Stalker," Brian nodded at Dean and Dean's eyes narrowed. "And Stalkee." He looked at Sam. "So who are you two? Undercover cops?" "No! I've never seen him before." "Are you even gay?" Brian peered at Sam suspiciously, suddenly right in his face. The challenge in Brian’s eyes was too much to ignore, and before he thought about what he was doing, Sam slammed his mouth against Brian’s, snaking an arm around his waist and pulling him closer. Brian gave as good as he got, digging his fingers into Sam’s hair and ravaging his mouth. When they broke apart, Sam’s lips felt overly sensitive and he wanted more. “I guess that answered his question,” Emmett sighed as Brian pulled Sam downstairs and into the writhing mass of dancers, but his train of thought was knocked off the tracks by the look on the potential serial killer's face as he watched them go. It wasn't the murderous look he'd been shooting them before, no, this was a much more familiar look. Emmett had seen it on Mikey's face often enough to recognise it. It was the same look Mikey got when Brian got off with someone new. Guilty, hurt longing for something he couldn't have. "Huh." Emmett set off towards Dean with determination on his face. "NOW where's he going?" Ted asked in an exasperated tone. "To pick up a serial killer?" Michael looked worried as his friend approached the stranger at the bar. “Hey, handsome, you want to …” “Not now,” Dean snapped as he watched Brian’s hands cup Sam’s ass and pull him closer. Sam bit his bottom lip and Dean stood open mouthed as his little brother let the stranger maul him. Brian whispered in Sam’s ear as he looked over his shoulder at Dean and Dean’s hackles rose. The creep was taunting him, but what was he supposed to do? Sam wasn't objecting. Emmett huffed and ordered a couple of shots instead, changing his tactics. He turned to talk to Dean as he waited for them to arrive. "So you're Sam's friend?" "What?" Dean looked at the tall blond who Sam had been dancing with earlier and wondered what Sam had said. He decided to play it dumb just in case. "Sorry, I don't know any Sam." "Yes you do," Emmett smiled, determined to find out what was going on between the two newcomers. "Tall guy, dressed in black, dancing with the biggest predator on Liberty Avenue." Dean's eyes narrowed again as Brian's hand slipped around Sam's waist and pulled them tightly together. Emmett saw Dean's jaw twitch as Brian kissed Sam's neck and Sam's fingers dug into Brian's hair. As they turned, Dean froze. Sam's eyes were so blown with lust, desire or something along those lines that Dean had never seen firsthand, that they looked demonic. "Christo," Dean whispered as if it would chase whatever was obviously possessing Sam away and he could get his brother back. He turned away and leaned on the bar, startled when a shot glass was placed in front of him. "You look like a Jack Daniels man to me, and watching Brian at work is enough to drive anyone to drink." Dean looked at the glass, then up at Emmett, then down at the glass again. He downed it and stuck it back on the bar, motioning for the bartender to fill it up again. "How long have you wanted him?" "Come again?" "Sam. How long have you carried this unrequited lust around for him?" "I don't want him! And there's no lust. At all. He's ..." "He's a good friend and you've never told him how you feel?" Emmett helpfully filled in. "No! He's ...," Dean bit back, hesitating to let Emmett know Sam was his brother. "No, I don't have feelings and I'm not, I'm not gay." Emmett raised an eyebrow. "Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, honey." Dean downed another shot, and tried to focus on the case, tried to forget about what was happening on the dance floor behind him. "Look, okay, you got me. I do know him. We're reporters working on a story about the Narcissist Killer. We thought coming here and getting to know a few regulars might give us an insight into what was going on, a new angle on the story since the cops aren't making much headway on the case." Dean turned and scanned the dance floor, brow furrowing when he couldn't see Sam. "Reporters? Well, why don't I introduce you to some friends of mine. We're all regulars and would love to help. Which paper do you work for?" "We're freelance. Where did they go?" Emmett scanned the club. "The way they were glued together, they're probably in the back room by now. Come on, I'll introduce you to Mikey. I think he’s got the hots for you already, maybe he can help with the denial." Emmett put his hand on Dean's arm, but Dean shook it off. "Where's the back room?" "They’ll be out when they’re done. Let me get you another drink." Emmett was beginning to get concerned at the look in Dean's eyes as he continued to look around for Sam. He didn't think it would be a good idea for Dean to see what was most likely going on between Sam and Brian, not if Emmett was right and Dean did have feelings for his friend. "I don't want a drink, I need to see Sam. Right now." There was a determined set to Dean's jaw, and Emmett pointed to an archway in the far back corner of the club. Dean took off, dodging amongst the dancers and Emmett followed him, feeling partly responsible for anything that might happen. Brian took Sam's hand and dragged him towards the back of the club, and Sam was so focused on the man that he didn’t even look back at Dean as they went. In the darkness of the back room, Brian pushed Sam none too gently against the wall, and turned him around. Sam went with it. After so long without the touch of another man, Brian’s bold moves as they’d danced left Sam breathless and lightheaded and now he shuddered and groaned as Brian pressed against him and raked his fingernails down the front of his shirt, making his nipples into hard, sensitized buds in seconds. Brian undid Sam's pants, pushing them off his hips and halfway down his thighs, and he wrapped his hand around Sam's cock, pulling on it as he ground his crotch against Sam’s naked ass. Sam pushed back, desire heightened to a point where he didn't care that he was standing in a room full of other men, also fucking and sucking and bringing each other off. It had been so long since he had strong, self-assured hands on him, taking what they wanted. He'd loved Jess, and would have happily spent the rest of his life growing old with her, but he'd always had an attraction to guys too, one that he hadn't needed to act on while he'd been with her, but now? Now, Brian was cupping his balls with one hand, unzipping his own pants with the other, and then the hands were gone as he rolled on a condom. Sam gasped and squirmed as a lubed finger pressed into him none too gently. "How much do you need?" Brian murmured in Sam's ear, making the hair on the back of his neck prickle. "It's been a while." "The tighter the better," Brian purred, quickly worked Sam open, and pressed the head of his dick into him as Sam panted and tried to relax, revelling in the intrusion, the long missed feeling of being split open and taken. Unseen by Sam, Dean stalked into the room, skidding to a halt at the sight that greeted him. From the perfect sideways view he had, he could see Brian ploughing into Sam’s rounded ass. Sam panted and groaned, reaching round with one hand and grabbing Brian’s hip, pulling him closer and grinding back against him. Brian slammed into him over and over and Sam's fingers curled around his own cock as he was fucked. Dean didn’t have time to process the emotions that battered him. Shock, because he’d never even known that Sam was into guys. Outrage because Brian was touching Sam, his Sammy, like that. Pain because his heart broke a little as he watched Sam’s head fall back onto Brian’s shoulder, mouth open in ecstasy. And anger because, because ... because he was fucking angry!! “Sammy,” Dean staggered backwards, and out of the darkened room that reeked of sex. “Dean?" Emmett put his hand on Dean's shoulder, shocked by the hurt in his eyes. "Let me get you a drink?" Dean shook his head and walked away, leaving Emmett standing in the middle of the dance floor biting his lip and hoping that his new friend didn't do anything rash. Back inside, Brian knocked Sam’s hand away, took hold of his dick and pumped it in time with his thrusts until Sam came hard, spurting over Brian’s fingers and clamping down on his cock. He could feel Brian pulse inside him as he emptied himself into the condom, and while Sam was still getting his breath back, Brian pulled out, efficiently dealing with the condom, and helped Sam tug his pants back up. There was no affection there, not that Sam had expected any, or wanted it from Brian, but he found himself thinking of Dean. He shook his head, really not needing images of his brother’s affectionate smile intruding after he’d just been well and truly fucked. Brian led him back out into the club, smiled, and headed off, something Sam was pleased about. His eyes scanned the club, and he frowned when Dean was nowhere to be found. Emmett, who’d stayed around after Dean stormed out, took pity on him. "Dean left," he told Sam. "Dean?" Sam was still more than a little shell-shocked after what had happened with Brian, but he was sure that he hadn't told Emmett who Dean was. "Your colleague Dean. He told me about you two. Researching the killer?" Sam nodded slowly, thinking Dean must have gone with the reporter story after all. "He saw you with Brian in the back room and left. He seemed pretty upset." "He ... he saw me?" The colour drained from Sam's face and Emmett thought he looked as if he might pass out at any second so he wrapped his arm around his shoulders and guided him to an empty seat at the bar and ordered up a couple of shots. “Did you ever think that he might like you? I mean as more than just a friend?” “What? No! No, I really don’t think he likes me like that.” Sam’s eyes widened as he thought through what Emmett had said. He looked so startled that Emmett shook his head, patted Sam’s shoulder and bought him another shot. ~*~*~*~*~*~ Dean ran all the way back to the motel, ran until the sweat poured down his back and his heart hammered in his chest. He really didn't want to go anywhere that Sam would be able to find him, but he didn't know where else to go. He started stripping his clothes off as soon as the door closed behind him and he made straight for the bathroom where he stood under the shower, wishing he could scrub away the images that had burned into his brain as easily as he could scrub the smell of the place from his skin. He didn't want to think, didn't want to analyze how he was feeling or why he was feeling it because none of it made any sense. Sam had been with women before while they had been on the road. Not many, granted, but Dean had always been cool with that, had openly approved, so why the hell was he having such a hard time accepting that Sam liked guys too? He'd always been open minded and for a while before Sam left for Stanford, Dean had wondered if his brother might be gay, given the lack of girls he mentioned, but then he didn't mention guys either, so Dean had eventually put it down to being a geek rather than being gay. The one emotion that Dean could acknowledge was a deep hurt. Some of the others that were roaming around his head were too scary to dwell on, so he focused on the hurt. He'd helped raise Sam, and they'd been there for each other through thick and thin, saved each other's lives and tended each other's wounds, not just the physical ones. Dean had never been one for talking about feelings and stuff, but he'd always instinctively known when Sam needed him. Brotherly hugs weren’t something they did much, but Dean was always there with a distracting beer or even a warm bed when things got too much for either one of them and the only thing that could offer comfort was resorting to the way they'd dealt with it when they were younger. Falling asleep wrapped around each other like a pair of kittens. As long as they didn’t talk about it the morning after, Dean was fine with that. Dean rubbed shampoo none too gently into his hair. Did Sam think he would have judged him? Would have pushed him away? Dean rinsed the soap from his skin and hair and stood under the shower spray, letting it pound down over his shoulders and bowed head. His heart sat like a stone in his chest, physically aching as if a demon had taken a hold of it and was squeezing it tight. He didn't understand why it hurt so much and he didn't understand why Sam hadn't trusted him enough to tell him. He just wanted the ache and the confusion to stop. He dried himself off, rubbing his skin too hard with the coarse motel towel, and slipped into bed, wrapping himself in the blankets, burying his head under a pillow. As much as he tried to will himself to sleep before Sam came back, he heard the door crack open a couple of hours later. He lay still, snuffling as if he was asleep, and ignored Sam's whispered "Dean? You awake?" ~*~*~*~*~*~ The next morning, tension hung between them, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. It didn't take long. “Seems the spirit has been building up to the main event and your ‘boyfriend’ might be next.” “He’s not my boyfriend, Dean,” Sam glared and hunched a little lower over his laptop, his forehead furrowed as he concentrated. “No? Well, you two sure looked cosy last night.” Not for the first time since he’d barged through the curtain at the back of the club, Dean wished he could erase what he’d seen from his mind. Images of Sam, his Sammy, being fu … shit, no, he couldn’t even think the words, not with Sam sitting so close and an ache in his heart every time he thought about it that made him incredibly uncomfortable for a whole heap of reasons. Dean growled to himself and pushed his chair away from the table, stalking over to stand at the window. “And just when were you gonna tell me you played for the other team? All this time, I’ve been pushing every girl we’ve met at you, well, half of them anyway, and thinking you weren’t interested because you respected women.” Dean glared out through the stained curtains at nothing in particular as he ranted, still reluctant to meet Sam’s eyes. “But this Brian, this stranger, gives you the come on and half an hour later you’re in the back room getting fu …” Nope, couldn’t say it either. Dean grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the motel room, muttering under his breath. “Need some air.” He slammed the door behind him, leaving Sam alone. The urge to get into the Impala and drive until there were several hundred miles between him and Pittsburgh was a strong one, but that would mean leaving Sam, and no matter how confused and strangely hurt he felt, he couldn’t leave his brother behind. Dean dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket, and changed direction, following the wonderful smell of breakfast right to the door of a diner and he was so hungry that he didn’t even pause to check it out before opening the door and walking in. The Liberty Diner was warm and welcoming and full of reminders of the night before. Dean scowled at the appraising looks he got from more than a handful of the men in the place as he found a table and sat down. “Hi sweetie, I haven’t seen you in here before. What’ll it be?” Debbie asked, a beaming smile on her face. Dean glanced up at her, taking in the bright red hair and rainbow buttons. “Uh, I just got into town. Breakfast would be good. The works and lots of coffee?” “Coming right up.” She winked and wove her way back to the counter. Dean watched her go and turned to see who she was waving at as the door opened again, letting a small gust of chilled air into the diner. Dean cursed under his breath and hoped the tall slim man hadn’t spotted him, but a soft pat on his shoulder a moment later told him he hadn’t been that lucky. “Dean! You left in so much of a hurry last night I didn’t think we’d be seeing you again.” Emmett sat down across the table from Dean and patted his hand. Under normal circumstances, Dean would have pulled away from another guy touching him like that, but it was such a comforting gesture that he left his hand where it was and gave Emmett a shaky smile. This whole gig had him so off balance that he didn’t quite know which way was up anymore. "Have you seen Sam since last night?" Dean nodded glumly. "He's back at the motel." "Have you spoken to him about ..." Dean snorted. "No, and I don't want to. I just want things to go back to how they were before. I hate Pittsburgh." "You don't seem the homophobic type, and if you don't like him that way, what's the problem?" Debbie arrived with breakfast, and Dean picked at it as she exchanged small talk with Emmett. After she'd gone, Emmett turned back to Dean. "Well?" "We grew up together, been friends since forever, shared everything and now I find out he didn't trust me enough to tell me this? I'd never judge him and finding out like that? It hurt." Dean pouted and Emmett smiled sadly, petting his hand again. "Maybe he was waiting for the time to be right to tell you and other things got in the way." Dean nodded again and took a long sip of bitter black coffee. Emmett had a point. They'd had plenty to deal with over the years since Sam had left Stanford to help him find Dad. Plenty and then some. But it didn't make Dean feel any better.. "I just wish he'd trusted me enough to tell me." Emmett looked over Dean's shoulder and smiled. "Hi Sam!" Emmett waved and Dean sighed. "Well, now his secret is out, you have to show him that you still love him, even though you might be hurting." Emmett left, with a smile and an encouraging pat on the arm for Sam and Sam slid into the booth opposite Dean. "Hey." Sam fiddled with a napkin. "Hey," Dean replied, considering munching on a piece of toast then changing his mind. Debbie brought coffee for Sam, and Dean continued to pick at his breakfast. "Sorry." They both spoke at once, and smiled at each other, unsure, tentative smiles, not the laughter that would have been natural at any point up until the night before. "Were you ever gonna tell me?” Dean asked. Sam played with his coffee cup before answering. "It never seemed like the right moment," Sam shrugged and Dean nodded. "But Jess? And Sarah?" Sam shrugged again. "I like girls too." "Oh," Dean still wasn't quite ready to let things be okay between them, not with the way it still felt like a betrayal. "It hurt. Finding out like that, seeing you ..." The reactions Dean was refusing to deal with came back to mind, the jealousy and the sharp, sour spike of arousal at seeing Sam come apart like that. He blushed, thankful that Sam would most likely think it was from embarrassment, and not shame. "You could have told me." Dean mumbled into his coffee. "I'm sorry, Dean, if I'd known what was going to happen ..." Dean nodded. "Yeah, okay. So did you pick up any leads on the case?" Sam recognized Dean's change of subject for what it was. He'd talked enough and needed an out. So Sam gave it to him. "I talked to Ted and Michael last night. Emmett's friends?" Dean nodded and nibbled half-heartedly on the side order of hash browns. "And Michael gave me the name of someone who would have hung out at the club around the same time as Byron," Sam continued "I called him on the way here and set up a meeting for this afternoon." ~*~*~*~*~*~ The Hillside rest home in Hermitage was pleasant enough, with large gardens and a view over an open landscape. A motherly care assistant directed them to a bench at the edge of the grass overlooking a pond. The man sitting there had his eyes closed, a cigarette hanging from his fingers. “Dominic Brown?” Sam asked gently, not wanting to startle him. “Yes, I’m Dominic.” He looked up at Sam. “We spoke on the phone this morning. I’m Sam, and this is my colleague, Dean.” “Oh yes, Sam. Have a seat.” He waited until Sam sat down beside him on the bench. “So what can I help you boys with?” “Did you know Byron Mercer?” “Byron? Of course I did.” “Yeah?” Dean cast about for somewhere to sit, and Sam scooted along on the bench to give him room. “Everyone knew Byron, but why are you kids so interested in him?” “We were researching the history of Babylon ... for a story, and heard the legends about Byron’s ghost.” “His ghost?” Dominic cackled. “Oh boy, he would have loved this, reporters digging around and making him famous.” The old man got his laughter under control. “There was no ghost, it was a story that started not long after the fire.” He shook his head. “But the sightings over the years?” “Flights of fancy, nothing more.” “How come you’re so sure?” Dean asked, his forehead creasing into a frown. “Because Byron didn’t die in the fire like most people thought he did.” “He ... didn’t?” It was Sam’s turn to look confused. “Nope.” “So what happened to him?” “I was an orderly in a sanatorium just outside the city. Patients were transferred to us after the hospital had done what they could, and one day I was helping out with a burn victim, his face all scarred and pitted, and recognised the tattoo on his arm. It was Byron, without a doubt, although I didn’t say anything to him.” “He used a fake identity?” “No, he used his real identity. Norman Arthur, and Norman Arthur was alive and well until three months ago.” “How do you know?” “Because I went to his funeral. Still felt a tie to the man even after so many years.” Dominic took another drag before explaining. “He was my first, and you don’t forget a man like that. He may not have recognized me, but I’ll never forget him.” So it was a routine salt and burn, and then they could leave. That pleased Dean immensely. That Sam wanted to see Brian, to suggest he stay away from Babylon for a few days, didn't please him at all. "He doesn't have to know." You don't have to see him again. Dean's unsaid words were as loud as the spoken ones. "What if Byron strikes again before we finish? He has a right to know something, Dean, and one of us should stay with him in case he is attacked." "What?!?" Dean glared at his brother, weighing up the options in his head and not liking either of them. "Fine. You go dig Norman up, I'll babysit Brian." "What? No! You hate him and I thought the whole point of this was to protect him." "It's not like I'm gonna hurt him, Sam. Not unless he asks for it." Dean mumbled the last part and Sam looked daggers at him. "Okay, you stay with Brian and I'll go dig up the stiff. On my own." "We could check with Bobby, see if there’s anyone else in the area to help out?" "You want to bring another hunter in on something as simple as this? What the hell is wrong with you?" "What the hell's wrong with you, Dean? You've been pissed at me ever since the night at Babylon. How many one night stands have you had and have you ever heard me complaining?" "You've complained. Once or twice. What about Cleveland?" Dean asked. "The enthusiastic steel worker with arms bigger than mine who snorted when she came? While I was in the next bed? I think I had a right to complain! The difference is that you brought her back to our room, but I didn't ask you to come looking for me, Dean. Some things I'd rather keep private." While Dean would admit that Angie from Cleveland hadn't been one of his best conquests and he had felt guilty the next morning, waking up with Sam in the next bed glaring at them, but that was different, he was sure. And since when did they keep anything private from each other? "Yeah, I'm getting that." Dean sighed, and resigned himself to a night if digging up a corpse while Brian had another chance to get his hands all over Sam. “Have you got Brian’s number?” Sam shook his head and Dean couldn’t help feeling happy that they hadn’t swapped numbers. “I’ve got Emmett’s, I could call him, arrange a meet with Brian?” Sam suggested. “Yeah, call Em,” Dean agreed. Sam nodded, surprised that Dean already had a nickname for the tall blond, and made the call. Part Two