Part One

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Dean grinned as a wad of bills was slapped into his hand, yet another win in a long string of them. He and Sam had just finished a hunt yesterday, killing off a werewolf in Maine. Both of them were tired and sore, and Dean had decided that it was time to take a short break, at least for a day, before finding a new hunt.

After getting some well-deserved shuteye, Dean had driven them to a bar. He and Sam spent some time just enjoying a beer and hustling pool, and-not for the first time-Dean suddenly realized how much he loved having his brother back. All that time without him, while Sam was away at Stanford, Dean had always felt that there was something missing. And while he had been glad Sam was happy, he still had that Sammy-shaped hole in his heart that nothing else could fill.

His heart broke for Sam when he was forced to watch the reflection of that fire shining in his little brother's eyes. The same fire that had consumed their mother had now also taken the one Sam loved. There had been nothing Dean could do about it-and he hated that.

That was another reason he was glad he'd finally taken them out to a bar. It made his heart swell to finally see his little brother smile and laugh, and just do something so utterly normal for a change.

Dean took a step back from the pool table for a moment while he took a swig of his beer. Glancing across the room, he spotted Sam-who had played a few rounds and then left to take a break-sitting at the bar. Dean stopped and raised an eyebrow at what he saw.

Leaning against the bar next to Sam was a tall, biker-looking dude, wearing lots of black leather, tatted up, and a ring glittering on his nose. He was giving Sam the most suggestive look ever, an almost predatory gleam in his eye. Dean's protectiveness flared, and when the guy put his hand on Sam's leg was when Dean snapped and angrily began wading through the crowd towards the two of them.

When he got there, Sam was standing and had pushed the guy back. Dean stepped up next to his brother. "Is there a problem here?" he asked, glaring at the biker.

"This your boyfriend?" was the gravelly response aimed at Sam, with an accusatory eye on Dean.

Dean stepped between the two of them. "Why don't you just skedaddle on off somewhere else now?" he said in a low voice.

"Give me one good reason." The biker stepped closer until their faces were inches apart.

If looks could kill, biker dude would've been splattered across the walls. "I'll give you five," Dean growled, raising a fist.

For a moment, it looked like the biker was going to argue or start swinging. But he just smirked and stepped back. "Have fun with your boyfriend," he said over Dean's shoulder at Sam before turning and walking away.

Sam lightly punched Dean's arm. "Dude, chill," he said with a small laugh. "I can take care of myself."

Dean acted as if he didn't hear him. "Did he try anything else before I got over here?"

Sam shook his head. "Not really, he just kept hitting on me and being creepy. You know, I could've handled him on my own."

Of course Dean knew that. But this was his baby brother, and ever since getting him back and Jess's death, Dean felt the need to protect him at every turn, as if that would make up-at least somewhat-for the all the pain Sam had been through. And he definitely wasn't about to let some sleaze ball douche bag feel him up. But Dean being Dean, he tried to hide his outright concern-stay a safe distance away from a chick-flick moment-instead planting a smirk on his face and saying, "Well, Samantha, it's my job to watch out for bitch-ass little sisters, isn't it?"

Sam snorted. "Just go back to your game, jerk."

"Sure you don't want me to stick around? Maybe with a baseball bat to beat off all your suitors?"

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