Sam shivered as he leaned against the splintered wooden wall of the barn. His shoulder ached from the fight with the demon-spawn Mar-Delok and his clothes were soaked from the cold rain which fell outside. He let the knife fall into the dust and turned to his brother.
Dean was shaken up. His chest was heaving with exertion and his shredded shirt was barely clinging to his muscular frame. Sam could see he was hurt.
“Hey. Are you ok?” Sam stepped closer and put his arms around Dean. “We’re going to get out of this, they can’t keep us here long.”
The brothers huddled together in the dark as the sound of the rain drumming on the roof eased their fears of pursuit. Despite the cold outside and the demons who, even now, must be approaching, the warmth of their embrace comforted them.
And then Sam caressed Dean’s clavicle.
“This is wrong.” said Dean.
“Then I don’t want to be right.” replied Sam, in a husky voice.