PART 3/3

He'd been minding his own business - or, well, minding Dean's, but that was pretty much the same thing.  Dean was sitting in the corner of the Roadhouse, talking to Bobby about what was probably a hunt, which Sam should have been angry about, but he was too busy staring at the back of Dean's sweaty shirt.  If he stared hard enough, he could just make out the muscle under it, the ripple of tight definition over Dean's shoulders and along the tight stretch between his shoulder blades and...

"Whatcha lookin' at?"

Cursing, Sam jumped and turned, sweeping his foot out low to catch the person behind him in the ankles.  His eyes had half a second to register the familiar face before it dropped from view, followed by a few choice curse words of its own.  Shit!  It was Abel, a Hunter only a year younger than Dean who sometimes stopped by for supplies.

"Jesus, Sam, what the hell?!"

Sam flushed in embarrassment and leaned down to help Abel up.  They'd been something close to friends since the first time Abel's mother had dragged him with her to the Roadhouse all those years back.  Mizuki was Asian and it showed in the slant of Abel's eyes and the cocoa of his skin.  His father, Brandon, came through in his slender face and figure and the pale brown of his hair.

Grasping Abel's arm, he lifted, "Sorry, you surprised me."

"Remind me never to get you a Christmas present."

Sam rolled his eyes and went back over to the sink.  It was piled high with the mugs and plates that Sam had been ignoring for the past half hour.  The Roadhouse had been unusually busy all night.  At eleven, it had finally lulled to a slow crawl and when Fred had taken a break, Sam had taken it on himself to have one as well.

"So, what were you staring at?" Abel sat on the counter next to the serving station.  Fred had ripped him a new one the last time he'd done that and Sam almost considered telling him that Fred was going to be back any minute, except it was kind of a lot of fun watching Fred yell at people, because he was only 5'3, but damn if he wasn't intimidating when he wanted to be.

Sam shrugged, "Dean's talking to Bobby.  I think it's a Hunt."

"Ah, and the feud continues."

"It's not a feud."  And it wasn't.  He liked Bobby, he just didn't like it when Bobby helped put Dean in danger was all.

"You keep telling yourself that."

Sam pulled on his gloves.  "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Abel shrugged, grabbing a dirty dish that Jo passed through the window.  "Hey, sweetheart."

Jo scowled. "Bite me."

If there was anything Jo hated more than being treated like a kid by Ellen, it was being called pet names by guys.  Sweetheart was by far the worst offender and Abel usually called her that just to piss her off.  Sometimes, Sam thought Dean rubbed off on the guy a little too much.

He turned back to Sam. "We're running low on supplies.  Mom sent me up here to pick up some of the more ‘illusive' items."  He made finger quotes at the word illusive, which meant he was talking about the less than legal variety.  Ellen didn't like running weapons and she didn't do it very often, but there were some things Ellen just had more access to and she didn't mind sharing with some of her closer friends and contacts.

Besides, it helped her make a little extra money to keep them afloat when they had a bad month.

"How long are you planning to stay?"

"Day or two.  The shipment isn't here yet, so it looks like you're stuck with me for now."

Abel grabbed another plate as it was thrust through and turned, intending to poke Jo a little more, only to find Ellen and her stern expression staring back.  "Hey, Ellen!"

She pursed her lips and pointed in the direction of the door.  "You know the rules.  Stop distracting the boys and get the hell off Fred's counter before he sees you."  At the mention of Fred's name, Abel shoved off and took a look around, just in case he hadn't been quick enough.  "Go wait in the house.  Sam's off shift once that sink is clear and then you two can shoot the shit all you want."

Sam looked at the pile and regretted slacking off earlier.  It would take him half an hour at least.

 

*****

 

By the time Sam finished, Abel was sprawled across the sofa, snoring softly against the otherwise dead quiet of the house.  He considered waking him up, but he had just driven up there from Alabama, so he probably needed sleep.  Then again, if their places were reversed, Abel wouldn't think twice about dumping a bucket of ice water on him and Sam knew that from experience.

Before Sam could take a step, though, Abel moved.  His arms stretched over his head, pulling his shirt up past the waist of his jeans, exposing the hard line of his hipbone and faint trail of hair leading down and Sam's breath stuck in his throat.  One of the best things about living at the Roadhouse was that, besides Dean, the only other man he saw even remotely naked was Ash, who was about as far from sexy as any human being was likely to get.  Or, at least, it felt that way to Sam, who'd seen the inside of Ash's trailer and knew exactly how many times a week the man bothered to bathe.

So ignoring his ‘am I gay' dilemma had been easy enough.  He'd masturbated a few times, thinking about Dean and blaming it on raging hormones or whatever, because without anyone else around, he could safely say Dean was the only guy that made him feel like that, which was okay, because nothing, absolutely nothing was ever going to happen.  Ever.

But Abel... he was lean and muscled.  Whip skinny, but strong and tall.  Not as tall as Sam, maybe, because he'd put on another few inches that year, but at least as tall as Dean.  He tried not to let his eyes wander down.  Really, really tried, but the sharp definition of washboard abs was just visible under the edge of his pink and grey faded t-shirt.  An all too familiar, shameful tingle made him remember where he was, frozen in the middle to the living room, staring at Abel like he was porn.  Shit.

Running through the house, he slammed the door to the bathroom, not caring who heard, or if he woke up Abel, because better he woke up from that than woke up to find Sam standing over him with a hard on.

Breathing deeply, he pressed his hand down over his cock, trying to will it down.  He thought about Ellen and Ash and Jo and every other non-sexual thought he could muster.  He even brought up the memory of two years ago when Dean was teaching him to drive and he accidentally hit old man Berger's dog and had to take the body to the man's house.  He'd refused to get behind a wheel for two months after that.

Slowly, it wilted and he sighed in relief.  Okay, one disaster averted, one to go.  Well, more than one if he was being honest with himself, which he wasn't right now.

Waiting another few minutes, he peaked back in the living room.  Abel was still asleep on the sofa.  Good, maybe this was all just because he was tired.  Maybe if he got some sleep he'd be able to think more clearly in the morning.  Maybe... yeah, and maybe Dean was right and he was gonna wake up with a vagina because he couldn't stop acting like such a friggin' chick all the damn time.

 

*****

 

He'd managed to bury his head in the possibly gay sand for two whole, blissful, denial filled months and now it had come back to bite him in the ass.

Abel was up and sitting at the breakfast table drinking coffee when Sam came stumbling in the next morning.  He sat down for a few minutes, staring numbly, because apparently, the man had decided shirtless was a good look at nine in the morning on a Saturday.

Standing back up, Sam walked out of the kitchen without a word and went to the bathroom for a shower.  The fact that he was going to masturbate in the shower was entirely coincidental.  By the time he came out, he was feeling much more awake and refreshed.  Really, this wasn't so bad.  Abel was only going to be there for a few days and then he could go back to pretending the problem didn't exist.

To make things even better, Abel had put his shirt on and Sam could eat breakfast without having to stare at his nipples.

Jo stirred before Dean, coming in only long enough to get water before going back to bed.  Abel didn't say anything to her, which was probably wise, because last time he'd been there, he'd made the mistake of teasing her before she was fully awake and ended up with a pan thrown at his head.

They both waited until her door was closed before relaxing into their chairs.  Abel grinned at him and Sam tried very hard not blush.  He had a nice grin, warm and mischievous at the same time, with one corner of his mouth and one eyebrow just a little higher than the other. "Wanna go watch tv before the princess wakes up?"

He meant Dean.  About the time Abel picked up teasing Jo from Dean, he decided teasing Dean was even more fun, because, whereas Jo resorted to violence, Dean turned bright shades of red and mumbled under his breath for half an hour.  There really was nothing Abel liked more than to play How-Red-Can-Dean-Get.  Sam had been kinda pissed about it at first - right up until Dean started the prank wars back up again.

There wasn't much on at 9 in the morning on a Tuesday, but Abel managed to find the only thing that could make Sam more uncomfortable than sitting on a couch with a man that gave him an erection.  Soap Operas.  Sam didn't do Soap Operas the way Dean didn't do Opera, which was to say, he watched them whenever he thought no one was looking or he'd checked every other channel and could safely pretend there was nothing else on.

So, when Abel grunted and stopped flipping at ‘Days Of Our Lives', it was all Sam could do to pretend he was reading and no avidly watching to see who was sleeping with Eric Brady II this week.  Hm, still Greta apparently, which was unfortunate, because he could do so much better.  Sam stopped that thought and went back to his book, hoping Abel hadn't noticed him watching...

"I saw that."

Shit.  "You put it on."

"To see if you'd watch."

Sam looked over, but Abel was smiling in that way that said he was trying to get a rise out of Sam and it had worked.  Double shit.  "Yeah, well, didn't see you turning away."

Abel raised his eyebrows, "So, you were watching me then?"

Trying to keep the heat from his cheeks, Sam rolled his eyes and went back to his book.  A moment later, a hand poked his arm. "Sam."

Don't look.  Don't look.

Another poke, this one harder. "Sammy."

It's a trap.  It was always a trap.

This time the finger pressed in hard enough to bruise. "Sammy!"

Finally he looked up and Abel's toothy, shit-eating grin immediately told Sam he shouldn't have.  "You like me, don't you?"

Sam rolled his eyes again, because it was all he could think to do.  "Whatever."

"Come on, admit it.  You like me."

"I don't like you."

"You like to watch me."

Abel leaned closer and Sam tried to push him away.  "Quit it."

"You like to touch me."

"I said, quit it."  Abel poked him low in his side and Sam jerked away, keenly aware that he was ticklish when he was nervous and nervous was just the tip of the iceberg right now.

He was too busy trying to disappear into his book to notice Abel reaching out with both hands until it was too late.  Fingers dug into his sides and he kicked out, twisting around to try and get away.  "Stop it!"

Abel pinched his sides ruthlessly and Sam couldn't help laughing as he moved convulsively to try and get the upper hand.  If he could get his feet under Abel, he could push him away, but Abel knew better, because he was just as well trained as Sam and he'd been at it a hell of a lot longer.

They struggled for a minute, Abel laughing manically and Sam jerking around, unable to catch his breath, let alone wiggle free and really, the only way this was going to stop was if Abel decided to be merciful before Sam pissed himself.

Finally, Sam managed to wedge his foot under Abel's hip and suddenly, Abel wasn't tickling him anymore.  In fact, Abel wasn't moving at all and it took Sam a moment before he realized that his foot was pressed against a very obvious erection.

Oh.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.  Abel was looking pale and staring at Sam as if he expected him to jump and run, because for all his joking, he apparently hadn't actually thought Sam was watching him that way.  Okay, this could go one of two ways.  Sam could either laugh and pull away, sweep it under the rug and never talk about it again, or…

Without giving himself a chance to back out, he moved his foot, purposeful rubbing it against Abel's hard on, never taking his eyes off Abel's face so that he wouldn't miss the reaction.  Good or bad, which would it be?  For about the longest second Sam had ever held his breath through, he couldn't tell.

Just when Sam was thinking that maybe he'd overplayed his hand - maybe Abel was just hard because they'd been wrestling and not because… well, because of other things - Abel dove forward, pressing his lips to Sam's with a kind of blind determination that mirrored how Sam was feeling right about then. 

Before Sam could respond, though, a door creaked open and they pulled apart, practically flying to opposite ends of the couch in their desperate attempt to put as much distance between themselves as they could.

A moment later, Dean stumbled into the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes and scowling.  "What the hell, you two?"

Sam wasn't sure what to say, but thankfully, Abel was as quick on the draw as ever.  "Did we interrupt your beauty sleep?"

Dean grumbled, but didn't say anything else as he thumped his way into the kitchen in search of coffee.  Sam sighed heavily in relief and melted back into the sofa.  He mouthed, "thanks" at Abel, who winks and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.  Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything in response and he was still pink when Dean came back in, carrying a cup of cold coffee, because first thing in the morning, Dean didn't care what temperature his caffeine was.

"So, Abel, what brings you here?"

Abel shrugged, "Usual."

"How long you staying?"

"Till the shipment gets here.  Ellen said in a day or two."

Dean hm'ed and leaned against the wall, gulping down half the mug and sighing happily.  "You up for sparring?"

Abel grinned, "When am I not up for kicking your ass?"

"You wish, errand boy.  I'll get dressed and meet you out front."  With that, he turned and walked back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Sam glanced back over at Abel, who was still grinning.  He put a finger to his lips and said, "sh," before leaning over and kissing Sam quickly on the lips.  Without another word, he got up and walked out the front door.

 

*****

 

Sam spent the rest of the morning trying to ignore Abel.  Well, Abel and Dean, because while he was helping Ellen by taking out the trash, he could hear the two of them grunting while they spared and very nearly had to choose between running back to the house for five minutes in the bathroom or explaining to Ellen why he found taking out the trash so exciting.

Then, as if God himself were trying to prove a point, they felt the need to strip off their shirts before coming in for drinks.  It being barely noon, there were no customers, so Ellen decided to let them get away with it and Sam was forced to give beers to two sweaty, half naked men with well defined abs and low slung jeans. 

After that, he did excuse himself for five minutes and he kind of hated himself while he did it, but at least afterwards he was too tired to get it up again immediately and by the time he probably could have, Ellen was kicking them out the back door, telling them to "Stop stinking up the place and, Dean, you'd better be back here in half an hour or I'm sending Ash out to get you!"

Abel got back before Dean, but that was okay because Jo had shown up after they left and was helping Sam with the prep work in the kitchen.  Abel wouldn't risk coming in and being asked to help.  Still, Sam snuck glances at him out the pass through whenever it was safe and one time, Abel caught him at it and winked back, with the same grin he'd used just before kissing Sam, which had led to this conversation with Jo.

"Sam, are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You look flushed."

"I said I'm fine."

"Mom, come here, I think Sam is coming down with something!"

"I said I was fine!"

"All right, god, I was just trying to help."

By the time the first customers arrived and Sam could just breathe, he felt like he'd been running a marathon.  He was tired and heavy and wanted nothing more than to go back to the house and sleep for the rest of the day.  He looked at his watch groaning.  It was only one thirty.  He still had a long day to go.

Ellen popped her head in through the swinging door, "Sam, honey, I need your help."

He dropped the wash rag, giving Fred an apologetic shrug before following Ellen out back, more than eager to get out and do something.  Unfortunately, that something was about six crates of illegal whats-its and Abel was standing next to them.

"We got that shipment in, I need you to help Abel get them into the weapon's shed and make sure everything's accounted for."

He nodded and waited for her to leave before turning around, only to find himself staring at Abel, who, for reasons he had yet to discern, had taken his shirt back off.  Oh, hell, this wasn't working.  None of this was working.  It was one thing to pretend he might not be gay when the only person he was attracted to was decidedly unavailable ever, it was another when he was standing alone with a man he thought he was maybe very much attracted to and who had, just a few short hours ago, kissed him, so there really was no question as to whether said person was attracted to him.

Deciding work was the best way to take his mind off the subject, he grabbed one of the crates and lifted it with a strained grunt.  Great, he would have grabbed one of the heavier ones.  Abel ran over and grabbed one end up, taking up half the weight and they lifted it into Ellen's pickup, which had been parked nearby.

Neither of them said anything as they finished loading the crates, or while Sam drove them the last few yards and backed the truck up to the shed.  Abel didn't even say anything as they unloaded the first crate and set it on the floor.  He also didn't say anything when he took Sam by the shoulders, pushing him up against the wall and kissing him, mashing his teeth against Sam's lower lip hard enough that he tasted blood.

Sam didn't say anything, either, because there really wasn't anything to say.  Besides, it would have been hard to talk with Abel's tongue in his mouth.  He wasn't sure what was expected of him – was he supposed to be the top or the bottom or did it even matter at this point?  He settled on wrapping his arms around Abel's back, running hands over the smooth skin, taught muscles and jutting shoulder blades.

If he'd had any doubt as to his feeling towards the same sex, they were dashed when Abel pressed his cock against Sam's and Sam thought he was gonna cum from just that.  Okay, gay then, or, well, bi, though mostly gay at the moment.  Moving his hands down, he fit them over Abel's ass cheeks and squeezed, enjoying Abel's deep moan of appreciation.

Abel slid his hands under Sam's shirt, resting them against the plateau of Sam's stomach and Sam couldn't hold back his own moan.  This was good, this was really good.  Hell, this was better than Kay blowing him, because back then he'd been too surprised to really enjoy it.

Pulling away, Abel bit at the side of Sam's neck and he had to grit his teeth as shocks of electric pleasure shot to his cock, making him light headed.  "Hey, Sam."

"Hm?"  He didn't want open his mouth for fear that he'd do something undignified, like squeak.

"You ever done this before?"

"This exactly?"  His voice rose embarrassingly high as Abel undid his jeans and shoved a hand down his pants.

"Yeah."

"Then no, but I've really…" he bit his lip hard as Abel stroked him, "thought about it.  A lot."

Abel worked his hand faster and Sam fumbled with Abel's buckle and jeans before finally managing to get his own hand down the man's pants.  It was strange holding another man's cock.  The weight of it was different.  Abel was thinner around and perhaps a little shorter than Sam, but by no means small.  The idea of having that put anywhere near his ass was intimidating to say the least.

"What have you thought about, Sam?"

Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, trying to form coherent thoughts.  "Just… you know.  God, I can't think like this."

Abel chuckled, "That's good."  His free hand took the back of Sam's head, pulling it down and they were kissing again, deep and hard and desperate and Sam saw white as he came.

As soon as he'd come back to himself, he realized Abel was still rock hard in his hand and he tightened his grip, working Abel harder.  A moment later, Abel dropped his head against Sam's shoulder and moaned deeply.  Thick cum coated Sam's hand in the next instant and it was strange to know it wasn't his, but not entirely unpleasant.  Actually, the idea was pretty damn pleasant.  Pleasant enough to make him half hard again, which was saying something considering he'd jerked off two other times that day.

They stayed like that for what felt like several minutes, catching their breath.  As he came down from the highs of his orgasm, guilt settled in the pit of Sam's stomach.  He knew it wasn't rational, but somehow liking men felt like a betrayal – like Dean would somehow find him disgusting after this.  Part of him knew Dean could never hate him, not really.  There was a connection between the two of them that went beyond the usual sibling bonds and nothing Sam could ever do would change that, but still…

"Hey, Sam?"

Sam blinked and Abel was staring at him, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips.  Blushing, Sam pulled his hand out of Abel's pants, wiping it on his jeans and returned the grin, "Hey."

It got quiet again.  Sam was trying to press down the guilt, suppress it, because it wouldn't do any good to dwell on it right now and Abel was just staring and smirking, like he knew what Sam was thinking, even if he didn't.

Then the shed door opened.

"Sam, make sure and double check the Hail Mary Hand Grenades.  This says there are…"

Ellen looked up from the invoice and stopped, staring at the two them.  They'd jumped apart the minute the door opened, but Abel was still busy zipping his pants and Sam was wiping his hand more vigorously on his jeans, just in case.

After several seconds of silence - in which Sam realized his pants were still unbuttoned and Abel decided the floor was the most interesting thing ever – Ellen slammed the invoice on the packing crate.  Sam jumped, Abel flinched, but neither of them said anything.

"Samuel Winchester, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Sam thought of everything he could say.

‘I'm almost eighteen.' 

‘I started it.' 

‘This isn't what it looks like.'

What came out was, "At least it was inside this time."

Abel looked over at him, "This time?  How many men have you dragged out here?"

"I told you, I've never done this before.  Kay jumped me."

"When?!"

"Year ago."

Ellen coughed before Abel could ask anything else, which was a huge relief, because Sam really didn't want to keep explaining how he was apparently turning into the Roadhouse slut.

"Are you two finished?"  Sam and Abel both nodded.  "Good, let's start with you, Abel.  That isn't legal for two more months.  You want to come back in two months, you two can have sex six ways to Sunday and it's none of my business.  Until then, you don't lay one more finger on him, you got that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Sam wanted to say that was unfair.  Dean and Jo'd had sex before Jo turned eighteen, but somehow he didn't think that would help his cause.

"Now, am I right in assuming your parents don't know anything about this?"  Bringing up Abel's parents was low, even for Ellen.  Mizuki and Brandon were hard-core, bible thumping Christians from the back woods of Alabama.  Most Hunters didn't mind because, bible-thumping or not, they had the best stocked armory in the state.

Still, there wasn't a Hunter they hadn't encountered that enjoyed listening to them preach for three hours, which was what they did if they found out exactly what sins you'd committed since the last time they saw you.  If Mizuki and Brandon found out their son was gay, there was no telling how many hours it would take for them to consider his penance paid - probably never, which was why Sam couldn't stop himself from yelling, "Ellen!"

Ellen raised a finger at Sam, a clear, ‘shut up,' and Sam wanted to protest, but he couldn't think of anything to say, so he closed his mouth.

Abel had gone ghostly white at the mention of his parents, although he did manage to keep his voice steady.  "No, they don't and I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself."

"All right.  Now, why don't you go help Dean and Jo while I have a word with Sam?"  Abel hesitated.  "If you really want to stay, there are some bathrooms that need cleaning."

Throwing Sam an apologetic flinch, Abel left and Sam couldn't really blame him.  No one wanted bathroom duty at the Roadhouse.  Alone with Ellen, Sam was having flashbacks to the time he's been caught with Kay.  If that had been embarrassing, this was mortifying.  He was bright red and if there had been a hole he could crawl into, he would have gladly done so.

There wasn't any hole though, there was only Ellen staring him down with her lips pursed and her arms crossed too firmly over her chest.  "Care to tell me what you were thinking this time?"

Sam flinched.  Apparently, he wasn't the only one having déjà vu.  "Not really."

"Too bad."

He bit his lip and sighed.  This really couldn't get any more embarrassing.  "I just… I've been thinking lately that I might like guys and Abel was… well, interested, so… and it wasn't like there was anyone else around, because… well, Ash wasn't an option, so…"

Ellen tried to keep a straight face and she managed right up until he mentioned Ash.  Her mouth twitched up and Sam chose that moment to look up.  The poor boy was so bright red, he was doing a passable impersonation of a tomato. 

Seeing her barely suppressed laughter, though, turned the embarrassment to indignation.  "It's not funny!"

It took her a minute to get the laughter under control because, contrary to what Sam may think, it was funny - maybe not the situation in and of itself, but the look on Sam's face and his stuttered explanation?  She wouldn't trade that for anything.  Stepping forward, she put her arms around him, pulling him into a hug and he reluctantly returned it.

When they parted, he wasn't nearly so red, and even had a half grin on his face.  "It's still not funny."

She ruffled his hair.  "You keep telling yourself that."

He pulled away, but didn't move to straighten his hair.  "How much trouble am I in?"

"Bathroom duty tonight and next time you feel like fooling around, you find a room like a normal person."  He flinched, but didn't object.  "When you're finished with this, get back to the bar.  I don't want you and Abel out of my sights until he leaves tonight.  Got it?"

Ellen waited till he'd nodded his compliance before turning to leave.  As she headed back to the bar to keep an eye on their guest, she had to admit, this wasn't exactly the worst thing that could have happened.

Sure, it was entirely unexpected – she thought about all the long looks Sam had been giving Dean when he thought no one was looking – okay, not entirely unexpected, but she honestly hadn't thought Sam was entertaining the idea of being gay so much as he was entertaining the idea of being into Dean, which might seem like the same thing to anyone who didn't know those boys.

Sighing, she leaned against the outside of the house and watched Sam unloading another crate.  Of all the people he could be experimenting with, Abel was by far the safest.  With Abel it wasn't going to be a one night stand and it wasn't going to get around.  Abel had too much to lose with just his parents involved, never mind the fact that Dean would most likely hunt him down.

She sighed again and crossed her arms over her chest. 

What other options did Sam have?  She couldn't think of anyone in town that was openly gay, or even that she suspected might be gay.  In a town like theirs, you didn't go advertising things like that.  As far as Hunter's went… well, most of them were older men, grizzled and dirty from life on the road. 

Which left her with another question: What other option did Abel have?  Who could he trust not to tell his parents or tell someone who would get it back to his parents that he liked to bat for the home team?

Cursing under her breath, she stormed into the Roadhouse and stopped at the bar, staring down Abel, who was nursing a beer with a worried pout.

"Get out there and help Sam."  The beer had been halfway to his mouth and he didn't put it down.  Slowly, he opened his mouth, but closed it again.  Dropping her voice, she raised her eyebrow, "and for god's sake, close the door this time."

He waited all of thirty seconds before running out the door, and she almost missed the stupid grin on his face.  Sitting down in his chair, she took his beer and finished it off, keeping half an eye on Dean.  She'd have to drag Ash out of his trailer to help tonight, because she wasn't going to risk Dean wandering off on his own and bumping into something he shouldn't.  She'd gone twenty years without a murder on her property and she wasn't planning on breaking that streak now.

Dean looked over at her and she pointed at the table he was standing in front of, a clear instruction to get back to work.  It was going to be a long night.

-Finis-