Two days later, Sam helped take some of his dad’s packed gear to the truck. When the other hunters had arrived the day before, Sam had wanted to go with them. But his father told him to stay with Dean, and deep down, Sam knew he was right, and he’d stayed back. Unsurprisingly, the hunters found the old mansion abandoned, and several other bodies.

Meanwhile, both he and his father… and Dean, whenever he felt up to it… had been researching like crazy. All hours. Any time any of them were awake, there was the sound of clicking keys on the lap tops or paper rustling. Mostly they’d run into dead ends. There was nothing worse than finding something that gave you hope, and then finding a theory debunked. Over the course of the two days, there had been too many tears blinked away by three strong men who thought they could take on anything.

Now there was another ray of hope. Sam so wanted to believe as he waved good bye to his dad and watched the truck kick up some dirt and drive out the lot. They’d found the name of someone who might know something about some cure. Yeah… it couldn’t be vaguer than that. No wait, it could. He didn’t have freaking address other than he lived in a remote area three states away.

Sighing, he turned around and headed back inside. He and his dad had mostly gotten along… only two shouting matches, both in the hall, though Dean wasn’t stupid and knew exactly what was going on. And now he had to deal with Dean, who had cabin fever. Just freakin’ great. The better he got, the more demanding and irritable AND irritating he got. Helluvalot better than dead, a soft voice said in his mind. It was right.

Sam pushed the door of their room open and held the bag of items he’d gotten from a convenience store around the corner. “Got cards, dominoes, and… now that dad’s gone… skin mags. Think that’ll keep you quiet for a while?” He grinned, knowing full well that if Dean were completely healed, he’d be trying to knock him on his ass right now.

Dean was laying in his bed. His wounded leg propped up on a pillow, no bandage on the bite for the time being because his father wanted the wound to ‘breathe’ for a while now that the infection was healing.

He no longer had a fever, but the wound was still tender and painful enough that he still couldn’t walk around very much. Not that his brother or his father had really let him. Both of them threatening to tie him down if he didn’t lie here and rest.

So that’s what he was doing. Resting. Flipping through the channels on the TV with the remote for the tenth time and still finding nothing he wanted to watch, while his brother saw his father off. Their dad leaving on a wild goose chase to find some guy about a possible cure while they waited here because it still wasn’t ‘safe’ for Dean to go out with the hunters still in the area searching for signs of the werewolf pack.

So Dean was stuck here. In this god damn room, with his god damn nursemaid of a brother, and he was fucking bored. This so wasn’t how he wanted to spend his last few weeks.

Dean had gone along with helping his dad and his brother with their research, mostly because it was the only thing they would let him do. They hadn’t found anything. Nothing but dead ends, just like Dean knew they would, and he just wished they would give up and let him enjoy what little of a life he had left. But his brother and his father still clung to their ‘hope’ and it made for a tense atmosphere and emotional strain when he saw those hopes dashed again and again.

The elder man’s eyes flickered briefly away from the television when his brother came back into the room, announcing what items he’d brought back with him and Dean’s first response was to flip Sam the bird before he turned his eyes back to the television before replying sarcastically.

“Oh, you mean you’re going to let me beat off? I thought you didn’t want me to strain myself…”

Sam made a face and didn’t answer directly. “Jerk.” Dropping the bag, he grabbed his lap top from the table and went to sit down on his dad’s now vacated bed. At least now he wouldn’t wake up every morning to Mr. Bed Hog laying all over him.

He started to tap away on the keyboard, writing a new list of research ideas, occasionally looking over at Dean staring at the television. His expression was hard and implacable. Great. It was gonna be a fun day. Sam tried to stay quiet. The less he said, the less likely it was that he’d set Dean off.

But the longer the silence stretched, the more Sam needed to break it.

Sighing out loud, he went over and sat down on Dean’s bed. “Stop ignoring me,” he said, shaking Dean’s shoulder lightly. “Look, I know it’s hard, and I know you’re scared… it’s natural, but maybe you just need to deal with your feelings. Get it out there… work them out.” Right, he was asking Dean Winchester to spill his guts, what the hell was he thinking?

“Bitch.” Dean muttered under his breath. Not really surprised when Sam immediately went for his laptop, and the elder man continued flipping through the television channels, trying to ignore his brother and the tapping of the keyboard.

That sound was really starting to get on his fucking nerves.

He could practically feel the younger man’s eyes boring into his head every time the younger man looked at him, and he knew Sam well enough that his brother wasn’t going to just leave things well enough alone. Much to Dean’s displeasure. So it wasn’t too much of a surprise when he finally heard the young man sigh, and felt the bed beside him dip.

Dean’s expression twisting into a grimace as he glanced at his brother in irritation.

“What the hell, are you channeling Oprah now? Christo!” Dean asked, only half sarcastically. Always annoyed when Sam got all ‘let’s share our feelings’.

“I’m not channeling anyone,” Sam huffed. Why did he even bother? “Look Dean, I’m your brother, and I know what you’re going through. Don’t give me that look, cause I do. I feel it too… alright? From the minute I found you all chained up like an animal, to the time I thought you might still … “ he looked away for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

When he looked back, Dean wasn’t looking any less displeased, but he didn’t care. “All my life… all my life Dean, I looked up to you because you’re a fighter. You don’t give up. But right now, right now I get this feeling that you’re shutting down, giving up, and it’s freakin’ scaring me… much more than what you may turn into.” His gaze never wavered from Dean’s. “You want to yell at me, do it. You want to fight with me, that’s fine, I can take that. Just don’t give in to your fear. Don’t. I couldn't take it.”

If looks could kill, Sam would have already been six feet under.

Dean wasn't a complete asshole. Really he wasn't. And, god forbid, if their places were reversed he would have probably been freaking out just as much as Sam was about the whole thing. He'd be doing everything in his power to try to save Sam, too. There was no way in hell he'd let his brother just 'give up' and die…

But it was him, not Sam. He was going to turn into a fucking monster. He was going to become a fucking werewolf, and attack and kill anyone or anything, even his father, even his brother and…

No. He wasn't going to let it happen. He wasn't going to even let there be a chance it might happen. Because when it came down to it, he knew his brother would never shoot, not even to save himself, and that was just… unacceptable.

It wasn't worth the risk. He wasn't worth that risk. He couldn't even think it without his throat closing in fear. The possibility of waking up one morning after the full moon to find his hands covered in blood… his brother's blood…

If that was 'giving up' then, yes, he was giving up, and he wasn't the least bit ashamed to be doing it.

Dean realized he was still staring at his brother. Glaring at him actually. His jaw clenched so tight it was making his teeth ache, and he knew he had to say something but he really had nothing to say. There was no argument Sam could possibly make that would change his mind about what needed to be done.

Sooner or later, Dean was going to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. Blowing his brains out with a silver bullet, doing what neither his father nor his brother weren't capable of. Hopefully it would be a little later, rather than sooner, however with his pain in the ass brother trying to force him into a fucking Kodak moment he was seriously considering just getting it over with.

"Are you done? Or do we have to hold hands and sing kumbaya now?" Dean finally snapped sarcastically, snorting and shaking his head.

"To hell with this." He decided suddenly, shutting off the television abruptly with a click of the remote and climbing out of the other side of the bed. Limping over to his duffel his Dad had apparently salvaged out of the Impala's trunk before putting it in storage, and pulling out some clean clothes. He started getting dressed without looking at his brother.

He should have expected it, but Sam flinched at Dean's rough response. In the end though, what bothered him more was where he thought his brother's mind was at. He hated this... one minute worrying what his dad would do about a possible werewolf in the family, and then worrying about what said werewolf would do. He wasn't stupid, he got how serious this was, he got how dangerous a werewolf could be. But what the fuck was wrong with securing him during full moons if it came to that?

His nostrils flared as he stared at his brother. "Dean you promised..."

And then his brother was off like a shot, and changing. "What the hell are you doing? Dean?" Swinging his legs off the bed, Sam reached him. "You're not going out. Dean you're hurt and dad said we have to stay holed up. You heard him... there are hunters out there."

Then it struck him between the eyes. "That's what you want, isn't it? You want them to find you, is that it? Is it?" Injured or not, he shoved Dean. "You're not going out, I'm not letting you do this. I'm not." His brother wasn't getting himself killed, not on his watch. Not ever.

Dean pretty much ignored his brother when the younger man demanded to know what he was doing. It was pretty obvious what he was doing, after all, and he didn’t feel like answering stupid rhetorical questions.

He was going out. Plain and simple. He was tired of being cooped up in this god damn motel room, and he needed to get out now or he was going to go insane.

So he pulled on his jeans. Wincing only a little when the rough denim rubbed against the wound on his inner thigh. Then he went for his shirt, only to have his brother yelling in his face a second later, and shoving him, nearly throwing him off balance and onto his ass.

“What the fuck, Sam!” He yelled, shoving the younger man back, though he didn’t have nearly as good leverage as his brother did considering it wasn’t all that easy for him to be standing on his feet right now. That wasn’t going to stop him from going out though, because if he didn’t, he felt he was likely to kill someone.

Either his brother or himself.

“God damn it, Sam! I’m going out for a drink! That’s all! I can’t stand being in here anymore! For six months I haven’t been able to go out, or do anything! So you can either come with me, or you can stay here, but I’m leaving, right now.”

With that, Dean yanked his shirt on over his head, shoved his feet into an extra pair of his dad’s boots the elder man had left for him, and pushed his way past his brother. Heading for the door.

Sam mentally cursed. For one crazy second, he thought about dragging Dean’s ass back, but did he really want to escalate? He wasn’t one to shirk from a knock down fight with his brother but Dean wasn’t in any condition to fight, but he would... and then he’d get himself more fucked up then he already was.

“Wait, Goddamnit,” he huffed, moving to the bed and getting a handgun from under it. He checked that it was fully loaded, and shoved it into his waistband. Grabbing a jacket, he silently followed Dean out of the room.

There was an old shack of a bar down the road a ways. Reluctantly, Sam jutted his chin in the direction of the bar. The way over was a dirt road with lots of pebbles and rocks. He could see his brother was having trouble, his limp was more pronounced, but did the stubborn ass ask for help? Hell no.

Staring at his implacable features, Sam didn’t say anything and didn’t move to help him. The going was slow, and then slower. Still Dean didn’t ask. Sam’s jaw started to ache. His resolve started to dissolve. Eventually, without saying a word, he just moved close and put his arm around Dean’s waist, taking some of the weight of his bum leg.

As soon as Dean stepped outside he felt like he could breathe again. Maybe that was cliché or corny but it was also true. He’d felt like he was slowly suffocating inside that motel room. Like maybe he was still being held prisoner even though he’d been rescued. Only it was a little worse because it was his father and brother holding him ‘captive’ rather than the damn werewolves.

Just being able to stand outside of his own free will. No chains on him, not trying to run for his life, or having rough hands dragging him around, beating him. Just feeling the cool air against his skin, breathing it in. Crisp but not too cold, early November air…

He might have been ok just to stand in front of their motel room, close his eyes, and just breathe in the fresh air for a while. But then his pissed off little brother was next to him, jerking his head in the direction they were going to be walking in, so he started walking before Sam could change his mind and drag him back inside their motel room.

So they started walking. Dean doing his best to keep up with the younger man’s longer stride, not all that easy even under normal circumstances, but now nearly impossible the way his wounded leg immediately began protesting. God damn it, why did that bitch have to bite him there of all places! Every step sent pain shooting up through his thigh, and even before they were half way there he was limping much more heavily than when he first started.

His bruised back and shoulders decided to start giving him misery as well, just for the hell of it, it seemed, and Dean was forced to slow down before he stumbled or something. Sam obviously noticed, because his brother slowed down as well, but Dean stubbornly pretended he was fine. He didn’t need to hear his brother say, ‘I told you so’.

When the younger man suddenly slipped his arm around his waist, Dean looked at him briefly, a little surprised, but didn’t say anything. He may be stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid, and he knew he wasn’t going to make it the rest of the way without his brother’s help. Though he would never admit it aloud.

The fact that he didn’t shove his brother off of him or even make a sarcastic remark about personal space or hugging him, was in its own way its own form of thanks. Walking like this wasn’t exactly quicker or easier, but at least it was less painful, and Dean knew a few shots would do wonders for taking away the rest of his discomfort once they got in the bar. He did force the younger man to let him go before they entered the bar, however.

This time of day the bar was nearly empty, and maybe he should have taken a seat at a corner booth somewhere to stay relatively out of sight just in case there were any hunters hanging around. But instead Dean limped right up to the bar because, damn it, he wanted a drink right now. He didn’t want to wait for the waitress to make her rounds.

“Whiskey, two shots.” Dean told the bartender as he slid gratefully onto a stool, nodding to his brother. “And whatever he’s having.”

Then he gave the younger man a smirk.

“Hope you brought your wallet.”

When Dean was being an ass like this, it wasn’t worth wasting your breath. His hunter brother knew damn well this wasn’t how to keep a low profile, but here they were... Mentally cursing, Sam didn’t return Dean’s smile.

“Coffee. Black.” He felt the weight of both Dean’s and the bar tender’s gazes, and repeated his answer. “Just coffee.” They’d make him think he was crazy for not drinking at the crack of dawn... if he let them.

Pulling his wallet out, Sam tossed a couple of bills on the bar, and spoke once the barman had moved away. “Hope you’re not planning on getting drunk because I’m not planning on carrying you all the way back. You’re a lot bigger now.”

He meant Dean had grown from the time Sam had left for college. Course he was a lot bigger now and had carried his brother’s ass from the mansion to the truck when it was necessary. He just wasn’t happy with Dean right now and didn’t want him going overboard drinking and doing whatever else was going on in that mind of his. He just seemed to be in one of his ‘make trouble’ moods, and this wasn’t the time for it. It just freakin’ wasn’t.

When his prude little brother just ordered himself a coffee from the bartender, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Spoilsport.” He accused. But at least the younger man was paying for his drinks, so he couldn’t piss his brother off too much. Or Sam might just leave his ass here with no way to pay his tab, and that might suck a little.

Because, getting drunk? That sounded really appealing right now. He would have thanked his brother for the suggestion, but he was too busy tossing back his first shot. The strong liquid burning a path down his throat because he hadn’t drank for a while, and instantly filling his belly with warmth.

Damn that felt good.

Dean instantly tossed back his second shot, and held two more fingers up for the bartender.

“Make um doubles.”

By the time Dean was tossing back his fourth round, he was pretty much pain free. Not ready to jump up on the table and sing some karaoke yet, but definitely tipsy.

They’d moved back to one of the back tables after the second round. Just so Sammy would stop glaring holes into the back of his skull. Not that his brother had really relaxed, even then, but the booth cushion did feel a lot better on his leg than the barstool had been, he had to admit that. Not aloud of course.

Dean was currently trying to see how high he could stack his empty shot glasses up without having them topple over. Grinning as he placed his fifth, or was it his sixth, empty glass successfully on top of his tower. He grinned across the table at his brother triumphantly, only to be met with a sullen glare, and Dean rolled his eyes. Picking up one of his full shot glasses.

“Jesus Christ, Sammy, loosen up will you? You’re wound up tighter than a cat’s ass.” The elder man said, snorting a little in amusement at his own analogy, before taking another drink.

He’d been watching one shot after another disappear into his brother, and had kept his teeth gritted together. He’d stop now. Surely he’d stop at two. At four. God damnit...

Reaching out, he grabbed Dean’s wrist before his brother got the sixth glass to his mouth. “Will you take it easy with that? You were just pumped with meds and you’ve been sick... hardly ate anything,” he forcibly brought Dean’s glass down to the table. “And if I’m wound up... there’s a good reason for it and its sitting right in front of me,” Sam huffed.

He started to get up, but leaned in first. “Don’t touch that, not until you get something in your stomach first.” Sliding out of the booth, he headed to the bar and ordered pizza... yeah, it was that or hot wings, and neither sounded pleasant at this time of the morning.

When he returned, he plunked a bowl of peanuts down in front of Dean, and slid back in. He tried to give his brother a stony look, but after a while, his anger had thawed. “I’m worried, okay? We’ve got enough on our plate without you stacking the cards against us. And I can’t shake the feeling it’s intentional. Is it?” His eyes locked with Dean’s.

Dean glared a little at his brother when the younger man grabbed his wrist, telling him to 'take it easy' and not letting him take another drink. But at the same time he couldn't help but grin a little when the Sammy said he was the reason his little brother was so wound up. After all, he'd always taken pride in the fact that he could get his little brother's panties in a twist so easily.

"Yes, mother." He replied in about as sarcastic tone he could muster, rolling his eyes a little as he watched the younger man head for the bar. Barely resisting the urge to toss back the whiskey anyway while his brother's back was turned just to piss Sam off.

He didn't really know why he was trying so hard to piss his brother off right now. Though it probably had a lot to do with the Oprah moment that the younger man had tried to force him into back at the motel. Sam knew he hated talking about this kind of shit, and despite what the younger man said, he really had no fucking clue what he was going through right now. After all, Sam hadn't spent six fucking months with those monsters, up close and personal.

He didn't know what it was like, what it would be like for him once he turned… and Dean had no intention of talking about it. Never. So if keeping Sam pissed off at him was the only way to stop the other man from trying to force him into touchy feely cry on my shoulder moments, then that option was a hell of a lot better.

Dean stuck his tongue out at his brother when the younger man returned to their booth, but he took a handful of peanuts from the bowl and popped them in his mouth just to be accommodating. Washing them down of course with another shot of whiskey.

"You worry too damn much." Dean's words were almost an accusation rather than an observation. Popping a few more peanuts into his mouth and chewing slowly to avoid answering the younger man's question. Even though his brother would no doubt know he was stalling because whenever had he been shy about talking with his mouth full?

"I'm not stacking shit against you, little brother. For being so damn smart, college boy, I thought you'd know a lost cause when you saw one." The elder man finally said, and maybe he was a little more drunk than he thought because he couldn't seem to stop the words pouring out of his mouth.

"I just don't know how you managed to get Dad to go along with all this finding a cure crap, but whatever. I'm just trying to enjoy what little life I have left. Maybe you should try it sometime." He said as he reached for his last shot.

Sam tried not to be hurt by his brother’s cutting words, and he moved faster, grabbing the shot glass away, and knocking it back. He started to sputter, and his eyes burned... not to mention the protests from his burning esophagus and stomach. The last thing he’d wanted was liquor at this time of the morning.

Wiping at his eyes, and glaring at Dean who was far too amused to maybe realize the only reason he’d taken the shot was so Dean couldn’t, he lifted his now cool coffee to his mouth and took a few sips. “You think I don’t know your M.O.? When you’re caught at something or don’t want to talk, you just attack... try to be unpleasant and hope it shuts the other person up. Well I’m not shutting up, Dean,” he emphasized by raising his brows.

Damn... that whiskey tasted foul in his mouth now. He gave Dean a reproachful look. “And I have a life which I enjoy.” Yeah, he’d made a life for himself, hard as it had been. “And what you’re doing right now with yours? That’s not enjoying it, it’s wasting it... It’s giving up, not something I expect from you.”

No, he wasn’t going to go emo... cause that would piss Dean off more. But he’d given him a promise, and already it looked to Sam like he was breaking it. He swallowed hard. Dammit... not the time to think about how he’d almost lost Dean. Not the time to think about how Dean had held onto him when he made his promise. If he thought about it too much...

Trying to bring a rougher edge to his voice, he added, “dad’s as stubborn as you, and he came around. Maybe he’d got a good reason, and maybe you should try not to be a stubborn ass sometime.”

Dean glared at his brother like he was trying to mentally drill holes into his skull when Sam snatched his drink away from him and knocked it back himself.

Asshole. Get your own. He had been about to say, but his annoyance quickly turned to amusement as he watched his brother sputter and choke on the strong liquor, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Well, that’s what his pain in the ass brother got. Of course now Sam was glaring at him like it was his fault somehow.

Dean simply rolled his eyes again as he tried to flag the waitress down for another round of drinks. Doing his best to ignore his little brother’s psycho babble because it was really getting on his nerves. Actually it was pissing him the fuck off. Especially when the younger man went on to say how much he enjoyed his ‘life’ back at college, and that Dean was ‘wasting’ his life.

“Oh yeah? Well, if you enjoy your life so much, college boy, then why don’t you just fucking go back to it? It’s my life, god damn it! If I want to ‘give up’ that’s my right! And if I want to eat a bullet before turning into a fucking monster, that’s my right too!” Dean’s voice rose till he was nearly shouting, drawing some stares from a few of the other bar patrons but either he didn’t notice or he didn’t care.

Slamming his hands down on the table, making his glass tower topple over loudly, Dean stood up abruptly. The room tilting a little when he did, but he didn’t really care about that either.

“Who says I wanted your help! Or Dad’s! You should have just fucking left me there with those damned werewolves!” Dean did yell this time, and all but stumbled out of the booth where they were sitting, heading for the door.

Dean’s sudden outburst gave Sam a heart attack. For someone who was injured, Dean could sure say a hell of a lot and move fast. Shit!

As he rushed behind him, Sam gave a sloppy smile and put one arm around his brother, though he was wishing it was his hand around Dean’s throat at this moment. He laughed out loud, “Like you said, wolves in sheeps clothing...”

It might have looked like a friendly hug, but Sam was dragging Dean’s ass out, and right now he didn’t care if the long steps he was forcing hurt his leg, or if his arm was pressing into the bruises at his back. Furious didn’t cover how he was feeling.

Once they were outside and a little ways away, he pushed Dean’s back up against a tree and put his hand on his chest to prevent him from getting away. He’d had it. “Shut up... just shut up and listen for once,” he ground out, pressing harder on him. “That wasn’t what you said when I found you... you didn’t fucking ask to be left back there, you wanted to come home. Home Dean, not with them, not dead... you wanted home. Now you’re out of there, you have a chance, and all you fucking want to do is to piss it away. Well I won’t let you.” Sam’s jaw was set, his face serious as hell. “If you don’t do this for yourself, then do it for me. Do for dad. Just do it, Dean. Live.”

Dean growled, literally growled, when his brother all but dragged him out of the bar. Forcing him to walk a lot faster than his injured leg could really manage. Then practically slamming him against a tree, reminding him exactly how painful the bruises on his back really were.

The elder man’s nostrils flared. This close he could smell Sam’s anger. His frustration. Even his fear. His brother’s scent had been driving him crazy for the past two days, and the younger man’s volatile emotions only seemed to make it stronger. More heady, more intoxicating, than even the booze he’d been drinking on an empty stomach.

Dean grabbed the wrist of the hand that Sam was pinning him to the tree with. Feeling his brother’s racing pulse as his fingers curled around it. No, not only feeling. Hearing it. All of his senses were somehow thrown into overdrive and it was so loud it was almost deafening. Matching the rapid beat of his own heart. Every breath he took, all he could smell was Sam. When he licked his lips he swore he could taste him…

With another furious growl, Dean suddenly grabbed Sam by the front of his shirt, his other hand tightening like a vice around the wrist he held, and suddenly he had his brother against the tree. He didn’t know how he’d managed it. He shouldn’t have been able to manage it. But somehow he had, and the entire length of their bodies were flush as he held Sam pinned there with his own weight.

“And what are you going to do when I go feral on you, little brother? When I get loose one night, because you know it will happen eventually, and when I try to attack you or someone else? What are you going to do? Will you pull the trigger? Will you shoot me? Will you choose to live? Or will you let me wake up with your blood on my hands! Answer me!”

“What the— unh!” One minute Sam was in control of the sitch, the next he found himself slammed into the tree. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised at Dean’s aggression, but his brother was using his entire body as a weapon... pressing him back, in his space, demanding answers and maybe scaring him just a little.

He squirmed, trying to break free, but Dean’s hold was too strong. “What the hell, Dean, back off.”

When his brother didn’t, his adrenalin kicked in and his heart started to pound harder. “It’s not gonna happen like that. I told you, we’d take care of it... you won’t get loose.” He tried to look away from the intensity of Dean’s gaze, but it was impossible. His chest started to heave as he tried to rein in his emotions. It would only piss Dean off more.

In the end, there was only one truth... and it had to be told. “Fine. Bottom line... you don’t wanna wake up and have to bury me. Well what the hell makes you think I want to do the same? Huh Dean? If you’re six feet under the ground, you think I’m gonna ever sleep again? Dammit... you should know...” he pushed Dean, then he slammed his hands into Dean’s chest again. “You should know.”

Dean caught both of his brother’s wrists, pinning the younger man’s hands above his head so that Sam couldn’t hit him again. However the low growl of anger that had been building in his throat died away almost instantly when his brother’s words registered through the haze of alcohol, fear, and anger clouding his thoughts.

He knew… of course he knew. If their places were reversed, Dean knew he’d be feeling the exact same things his brother was feeling now. All the fear of losing someone that you loved more than your own life. Had always loved, since the moment you knew what love was. The desperation to save him, even though he knew deep down he couldn’t be saved, that wouldn’t stop Dean from trying either. Wouldn’t stop him from begging his brother to live… live for him, if nothing else, because he couldn’t live without him…

But the fear of hurting his brother. The possibility of killing him, his brother dying at his own hands because of something he had no control over…

Dean closed his eyes as he pressed his forehead against the younger man’s. Swallowing hard as he tried to control his emotions, tried to keep them from boiling over and spilling out. Because he knew if he didn’t he might just start crying, or screaming, or both.

He could feel Sam’s heart beating hard and fast against his chest, and he knew his brother could probably feel his as well, they were standing so close. So close they were breathing the same air, and Dean knew if anyone happened to walk by them right now they’d probably think they were making out or something. That thought should have bothered him. It didn’t. Not right now.

Yes, Sam was right, he was afraid. So god damn afraid of what he was going to become he couldn’t feel anything else. It tainted everything. If it was this bad now, how was it going to be once it got closer to the full moon? A week before? A day before…? An hour before the moon rose…? Having no control over the monster inside of him during that time. Not knowing what he would do, what he had done, until morning. Never knowing if he’d killed someone ‘this’ time. If he’d killed the one person he loved more than anything else in this world…

“I don’t want to hurt you…” Dean finally whispered so softly he barely heard his own voice. A tremble passing through his body as he pressed himself even closer to the younger man. His cheek brushing against Sam’s. “If I… killed you… it would be worse than dying… worse than hell…”

Sam tried to break Dean’s iron grip on his wrists but Dean was relentless, his fingers bit into his Sam’s wrists, and the back of his hands were pressed into the rough bark. “Dean... stop,” he said through gritted teeth.

His brother acted like he didn’t even hear him. He was using his entire body as a weapon, pressing Sam up against the tree, leaving him no room to move, and hardly any space. He even used his freakin’ forehead to hold Sam back. What was this? New ‘Winchester tactics’ on how to subdue someone? Sam wouldn’t be surprised.

The long silence was starting to get eerie. “You’re drunk. Let go and I’ll...”

But big brother wasn’t listening. He just pressed closer, as if he wanted to push all the air out of Sam’s body. Feeling every part of their bodies touch, Sam started to panic about how it looked. “Dude... you gotta get off...”

Then he felt Dean shift and instinctively knew he was going to say something. Over the loud thundering of his heart, he heard his brother’s admission. Okay... he was the one that had been dying for this discussion, but this was ridiculous... he meant across a table, not in each others’ faces like this.

He licked his lips. “You won’t. Dean, you won’t... you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let you. It’s not gonna play out that way, okay? You’re shivering... let’s get back and talk at the motel.” Instead of being released, he saw something in Dean’s eyes that he couldn’t name. It made his heart constrict... made him look away... made him want to run.

“Dammit. Let go of me, now.” He tried harder to shove Dean, this time twisting his body and trying to fight him off that way.

When the younger man began struggling in earnest against him, Dean drew back just enough to look into his brother’s eyes. So close, it was all he could really see. He felt like he was looking directly into his brother’s soul. His brother was all he could see. The younger man’s heat pressed all along the front of him was all he could feel. Sam was all he could smell…

He was once more keenly aware of the younger man’s scent. This close, it was like he was drowning in it, and he could clearly make out the sharp bitter tang of fear. This time he knew, he just knew somehow, that Sam wasn’t afraid for him anymore. His brother was afraid of him.

That realization sobered him enough that Dean finally released his brother’s wrists from his near bruising grip. Stepping away from the younger man, his shivering growing more pronounced with the loss of his brother’s warmth.

Dean swallowed hard. Looking away, his eyes burning with shame.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” He whispered, but he couldn’t finish the sentence. His voice choking off as he turned away from his brother and started limping slowly back towards their motel room.

I didn’t mean to scare you…

Free, Sam leaned his head back against the tree and took a couple of deep breaths as he rubbed his wrists and watched his brother walk off. He guessed a half-assed apology was better than none, especially since this was Dean he was dealing with.

Even though Dean was limping, the distance between them grew quite far. Stubborn bastard. Never mind that he could find himself hunted, he didn’t give a single backwards glance, or care that he was unarmed. Well, Sam had to admit it was possible his brother had a knife on him, but what the hell good was that gonna do against hunters, or worse… wolves.

Pushing off, he started to follow, lengthening his strides to catch up. The sound of silence between them was deafening. Sighing out loud, Sam put his arm out to help Dean. “C’mon. Lemme help you.” He was only slightly wary until he met Dean’s gaze and saw that the feral look was now gone. Bending slightly, he wrapped his arm around his brother’s waist.

After a while, Sam was fed up again. “We’re not doing this. We’re not doing the silent treatment, and we’re not going to fight over everything, cause Dean… that would just be hell.” He looked over at his face. “How about we plan on little trips outside the motel every day? Some place safe, but outside. I know there’s a lake around here. I could check it out.” He knew it wasn’t the kind of excitement Dean probably craved. “Once your leg’s better, maybe a real bar or something.” It was a concession, something to maybe appease Dean and give him something to look forward to. If it were up to Sam, he’d just keep him holed up and safe, but he knew it wasn’t happening. He’d just gotten a taste of what happened when Dean was cooped up too long, and it wasn’t pleasant.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two before he heard the crunch of gravel and stone behind him from his brother’s footsteps as the younger man caught up to him. Even if it felt like a small eternity, Dean knew he couldn’t move that fast. He supposed he should feel lucky that Sam wanted to be near him at all after the way he’d just acted.

Practically attacking his brother… Dominating him… Overpowering him even though he was still injured, he probably never could have done it if he hadn’t taken Sam by surprise, but that didn’t make it any better. It only made it worse, because Sam had trusted him. Maybe Sam would see his point now. If his brother couldn’t even trust him now…

His thoughts were cut off abruptly when Sam offered to help him, and Dean looked at his brother with a little bit of trepidation even though he had been the one to attack the younger man. Sam didn’t wait for his answer though, just wrapping an arm around his waist to help take the weight off of his injured leg, and Dean let him. Sighing softly as they made their way slowly back to the motel room in silence.

At least until his brother broke it again. Yeah, yeah that would be hell, and the last thing Dean wanted was for them to be at each other’s throats constantly until… He didn’t want those to be the last memories Sam had of him. So Dean sighed again and nodded to the younger man’s suggestion. Not that he was the walk-in-the-woods-hang-out-by-a-lake kind of guy, it would be better than being cooped up in that motel room all day, every day.

He even offered his brother a small genuine smile when Sam suggested they could go to a ‘real’ bar once his leg was better. His brother was trying. Really he was. The least Dean could do was try too.

“Ok.” Dean finally agreed. Not really sure what else to say. He almost wanted to apologize again to his brother, but at the same time, he didn’t really want to think about the argument they’d just had, so he didn’t say anything more as Sam let them back into their motel room.

Dean immediately laid back down on his bed, glad to have the weight off of his leg, but also because all the shots he had were really starting to hit him now. He’d barely managed the last few steps to their room and knew he would probably have fallen on his ass without Sam’s help. It was probably only a minute or two after his head hit the pillow that he started snoring.

Sam shook his head. Served Dean right and maybe he’d get his just desserts and wake with a headache or something. Right, it was Dean… he’d just wake up irritating. If Sam were a good brother, he’d take Dean’s shoes off and throw something over him. Snorting at the thought, he went to grab the lap top and brought it to the other bed.

Stacking a few pillows behind his back, he turned the t.v. on low, and continued his research. This time, instead of looking for cures, he searched for symptoms and the stages that a person who’d been infected by the bite of a werewolf went through. He needed to know what to expect, and maybe find some markers indicating when a full change was close. The moon had a lot to do with it, but he’d seen some references to changing at other times. That he’d kept from both his brother and his father. It could be false anyway, just like all the possible cure references that were debunked in other materials.

Once in a while, he glanced over at his slightly snoring brother. A sense of trepidation wormed its way into his belly. The promise he’d extracted when Dean was too weak to argue too strongly was off the table, he knew it in his gut and it scared him something terrible. Maybe he should keep Dean drunk and asleep or drug him. Okay, not now… but later, if he had to, he would.

Settling on that crazy scheme, he felt better. Slightly. Dad… bring back a cure. It was all he could do not to call his dad up for an update. Letting out a breath, he went back to collecting information.

Dean caught both of his brother’s wrists, pinning the younger man’s hands above his head so that Sam couldn’t hit him again. A low warning growl forming in his throat as the younger man tried to struggle ineffectually out of his grip. Twisting and bucking against him, trying to throw him off, but Dean had much more leverage over Sam at the moment and he held him in place easily against the tree.

Crushing their bodies together. Dominating him. They were so close he could taste his brother’s breath on his lips. So close all he could see was the younger man’s wide, fearful, eyes. All he could feel was his brother’s heat, soaking into him all along his front, practically burning him. All he could smell was his brother’s intoxicating scent. Fear and confusion the strongest… but when Dean shifted his hips against the younger man, an unmistakable spike of desire…

Sam’s breath quickened, his eyes growing even wider as Dean pushed against him again. Dean's growing arousal obvious and his brother’s lips parted in a soft gasp. Sam’s tongue darting out to lick his lips and with a soft growl, Dean chased that teasing tongue back into his brother’s mouth.

Crushing his lips against his Sam’s. Moaning into his brother’s mouth as he rubbed his groin hard against the younger man’s. Swallowing his brother’s pleasured whimpers and moans greedily.

First Dean was thrashing around a little, which was odd because Dean had the tendency to sleep like a big unmoving log, and then he was making some sounds and moving his head from side to side. Thinking either the fever was back, or his brother was having a nightmare about all that had happened to him, Sam got off his bed and went to Dean.

“Dean, you alright?” he asked, bending over him and shaking his shoulder lightly. A low sound broke from Dean, like a whimper. “Dean… it’s just a—“

Before he could reassure his brother, Sam felt an iron grip go around his waist, pulling him down toward Dean. Since he detected a slight smile on Dean’s face, Sam was ready for anything. “Come on you ass, lemme go. I know you're awake.”

Dean wasn't awake, not in the slightest. He wasn't fully asleep either, but that didn't matter much when your brain was swimming in half a bottle of whiskey. He was aware that his brother was standing close to him. He was always aware of exactly where Sam was lately, just from his scent. He'd felt the younger man's hand shake him. Not startling him really, and not waking him from his dream just, changing it a little.

Missing Sam's warmth the elder man immediately reached out for him. Wrapping his arms tightly around the younger man's waist and dragged his brother down to him with a smile. Oh yeah, that was better.

It was even better when he leaned up, one hand still on his back, his other sliding up to cup the back of his brother's head as he crushed his lips against the younger man's. His fingers tangling in Sam's hair as he held him close, not letting him pull away as he licked between Sam's lips. Forcing his tongue past them into his brother's mouth with a groan of pleasure.

Sam came down hard on top of Dean, and didn’t even try to break his fall since he thought Dean was awake. The next moment proved him wrong… so freakin’ wrong…

Before he knew it, he was in Dean’s embrace and unable to turn his face as Dean’s mouth found his. He started to protest. Big mistake. He’d opened his mouth and now found Dean’s tongue delving inside. And oh God, the sound Dean made… like he was in the throes of sex. He should have recognized the sound earlier… not a nightmare, but a freakin’ hot dream.

Okay so while Dean was probably having a wet dream about some blonde chick, his tongue was doing things to Sam. Sliding in and out of his mouth, tangling his tongue. Hell… if he were asleep like Dean, instead of panicking, he might be the one groaning.

No, this was waaaay wrong. Heart pounding, Sam tried to break free. Problem was, the last thing he wanted was for Dean to actually wake. This was hella embarrassing, and would be doubly so if Dean… whoa…the way Dean’s tongue lightly stroked before deepening the kiss sent a strange shiver down Sam’s spine. Before he could process it, Dean was kissing him so fiercely, it felt like a branding. Breathless and unable to stop the incredible surge of heat inching through his veins, Sam felt totally out of control.

Dean stroked his tongue along the roof of his brother’s mouth. Tracing the outline of his teeth. Coaxing the younger man’s tongue into his mouth so he could suck on it with a moan of pleasure that seemed to be pulled from the depths of his soul.

His fingers sliding through his brother’s soft hair. Petting. His other hand trailing along the base of the younger man’s spine. Sam’s shirt inching up to reveal a soft strip of flesh which his fingers immediately sought more of greedily. Sliding underneath his brother’s shirt, stroking up the length of his back.

It was so good… so fucking good… Sam’s taste. His brother’s smell. He was drowning in it and he didn’t care. It was perfect. So perfect. Sammy… His Sammy… Why had they never done this before? His little brother had always meant everything to him. Everything. Why not this too? He wanted this. Needed this. Needed him… Sam was his, always his… Always…

Growling softly in the back of his throat, Dean wrapped one of his legs around his brother’s hips and quickly flipped them over. Never breaking their kiss as he pinned the younger man beneath him. Pressing his hips down, and rubbing his growing erection against Sam’s stomach as his hand on the younger man’s back slid lower. Dipping beneath the waistband of his brother’s jeans, giving the other man’s ass a firm squeeze as he moaned.

Dean, no. His senses were swimming so bad, he didn’t know whether he was coming or going. How had his tongue ended up in Dean’s mouth? He was vaguely aware his brother tasted like whiskey and lust, and God, the things he could do with just his mouth and tongue…licking, stroking, sucking… using them as skillfully as he did his weapons, drawing reactions Sam didn’t want to give, and slowly bringing Sam to a fevered pitch. The groan he heard this time wasn’t Dean’s… it was his own.

He was so lost in these sensations that he didn’t notice until it was too late that the Dean had reversed their positions and he was trapped under Dean. His heart banged out of control as he realized Dean’s hand was inside his pants… inside. Hell no, this wasn’t happening. The kiss had lulled him but this… this was out of control.

And then Dean squeezed his ass. Sam instinctively raised his hips to get away from his hand, but found himself in much harder contact with Dean’s frame. With Dean’s arousal pressing into him, with his brother practically dry humping him, he was left with no illusions about where this was going if he didn’t stop it.

He pulled his head back, breaking the kiss and worked his hand between them. Just as he was about to shove Dean off, he felt Dean’s hand on his fly, and froze… just froze.

When he felt his brother arch beneath him, Dean responded by grinding his hips even harder against the younger man’s. Squeezing Sam’s ass again even harder, and pulling his brother tighter against him with a desperate moan. His trapped erection heavy and painful inside of his jeans begging to be set free. Everywhere his brother’s body touched him the younger man’s heat burned, he’d never been this hot for anyone. Never needed, wanted, to touch someone so badly, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to be closer. Needed to feel Sam against him. Skin to skin. Nothing between them.

Dean released his hold on the younger man’s hair, trailing his hand down the length of his brother’s body. Sliding his hand over the younger man’s chest. Caressing him boldly through his clothing he had every intention of getting rid of very soon. And when Sam arched his neck back, breaking their kiss, the elder man’s lips immediately latched onto his brother’s throat instead.

His teeth nipped, and bit. Hard enough to bruise but not to break the skin. His tongue licking away the sting of his teeth, before his lips latched at the younger man’s pounding pulse point at his throat, sucking hard.

His hand working its way down, lower. Over his brother’s stomach, lower, to the front of Sam’s jeans. His fingers of his other hand digging into the younger man’s ass, holding him firmly, as he unbuttoned his fly. Letting go of his Sam’s ass only so he could tug his brother’s jeans down his brother’s hips.

Hard, warm hands groped Sam mercilessly, touching his chest and abs, leaving fire in their wake. Sam groaned as Dean wreaked havoc with his senses, made him ache in ways he would never have guessed possible. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. When he tried to push Dean off, and Dean let go of his hair, Sam though he was free.

Wrong. Instead of letting him go, Dean’s mouth descended over his throat and sucked on him so fucking hard, Sam nearly shouted. Suddenly, Dean’s hands were everywhere… on his ass, on his stomach, touching, claiming… and the way Sam was trapped and vulnerable, he knew his brother was trying to take complete possession of him.

“Dean stop, Dean please,” he groaned, knowing it sounded as much like a plea to continue, as to stop, and he couldn’t help that. Dammit. And then Dean was single-mindedly opening his fly and dragging his jeans down, and Sam knew this was about control.

He felt the brush of Dean’s palm over his cock… and dammit, he was hard… and panicked… and confused. He bit his lower lip and arched towards Dean touch before he realized what he’d done. This was it, this had to stop.

He worked his hands between them and started to push Dean off again. This time, his brother gave a nasty snarl and bit down on the sensitive skin of Sam’s throat. “Dean!” Sam’s heart pounded with fear that Dean would break his skin and infect him. “Oh God Dean…”

Dean was touching him again, over his briefs but he was touching him so intimately, threatening to move inside his briefs… “Oh fuck, Dean…” Sam squirmed, but Dean kept holding him like he owned him. What the hell…

His heart was thundering in his chest with the pace of a jackhammer, pumping pure lust through his veins he was blind and deaf to almost everything else. All he could feel was his brother’s perfect body writhing underneath him in pleasure. All he could taste was Sam’s skin, the salt of his sweat, the sweet taste of his desire. All he could hear was the younger man’s breathy moans and his pounding heart.

More… He wanted all of him. Every single inch…

Dean pushed his brother’s jeans down to his mid thighs and he wasted no time palming the younger man’s erection through the thin cotton briefs. His brother’s cock so hard, so hot. The younger man lifting his hips to his touch driving his desire up another notch. The elder man was so hard he was leaking, leaving a sticky wet spot against the front of his own jeans.

Mine…

He growled softly as he pushed his erection against his brother’s thigh. Practically humping his leg, needing some relief from the unbearable pressure against his trapped arousal.

When he felt his brother’s hands push against his shoulders, Dean reacted on pure instinct, biting down hard on the younger man’s neck with an angry growl. He was not in the mood to play games right now. He wanted Sam and he wanted him right now.

Another low growl left the elder man’s throat, a warning, as he slowly relaxed his bite against the younger man’s neck. The possessive mark his teeth had left had nearly broken the skin and would probably leave a spectacular bruise that the younger man would carry for days, if not weeks, and that thought only inflamed him more. Because everyone would see, and know who his brother belonged to.

Once he was sure the younger man’s struggles were through, Dean continued where he’d left off. Kissing his brother’s neck softly, occasionally nipping lightly with his teeth in reminder of his warning, while he teased his brother’s trapped flesh tenting his briefs. Sliding his fingers up and down the length of the firm shaft, his thumb circling around the head, feeling the thin material barely concealing Sam’s cock grow damp to his teasing.

His other hand working at his own fly, finally managing to get his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped one handed, sighing as the pressure against his straining cock was relieved a little. As he slid his hand into his brother’s underwear, wrapping his fingers around his fever hot length, Dean grabbed one of his brother’s hands and led it to his own aching cock. Pressing the younger man’s hand against him with a desperate sound.

Between the hint of danger from Dean’s aggressive snarls and threats to bite his throat if he moved, and the relentless teasing and touching that had Sam involuntarily lifting his hips and moaning at each heated touch through his briefs, Sam didn’t know whether he was coming or going. Nothing like this had ever happened to him. Hard, firm lips, where they should be soft. An iron grip that held him tight against a powerful, all male body, where there should be soft curves. Fear and excitement mingling low in his belly from not knowing what came next, when he himself should be leading the action, calling the shots. As he helplessly writhed, he knew he was being mastered... and right now he couldn’t bring himself to care.

His breaths grew heavy and mingled with Dean’s He wondered how long this would last. And then he felt Dean’s hand go inside his underwear and a brief protest broke from his lips as warm, calloused hands, gripped him. “Dean don’t,” the husky plea broke out of him... almost broke him. His brother didn’t listen and almost dragged him back into a fevered state of need... almost, because when he felt his own hand shoved down Dean’s body, his palm forced over the velvety hot shaft, and heard the desperation in his brother’s groan, Sam came to his senses.

He couldn’t do this, couldn’t let his brother jerk him off. This was wrong in so many ways... so many ways. “Dean wake up, Dean!” All he got for his troubles was a warning squeeze that had him seeing white and lifting his hips.

There was only one way out of this... he swallowed hard as he took Dean in his palm, closing his fingers around Dean and started to pump him hard and fast. He thought it would be distasteful... he was wrong. The need, the hunger Dean showed him with every movement of his hips, and every sound that broke from his throat, had Sam’s entire body clenching. He hadn’t expected a thrill at the sense of power that flowed through him, despite being dominated in every other way.

Holding on to the last shreds of his control, holding on so he wouldn’t come in Dean’s hand, Sam’s strokes grew faster and faster. Come on Dean, finish... come on. He knew just when Dean was on the edge... wanted to keep him there, wanted to know how far he could push him. No... finish him.

Follow the plan. And Sam did, helping Dean go over the edge. Just as Dean stiffened and arched, Sam pried his brother’s now looser fingers off his own rock hard arousal and managed to twist out of Dean’s grip altogether. Deep in the throes of his climax, there were no snarls, no attempts to regain control over him, and Sam managed to roll away.

As he got of the bed, the temptation to watch Dean come was so fucking strong Sam thought he would die if he didn’t look. But he was trying to make sense of what happened, and was trying to deal with the aftermath... and giving in to one more depraved desire was not the right way to go.

Storming across the room, he stopped mid stride at the sound coming from Dean... swallowed and headed for the bathroom. He hardly recognized his reflection in the mirror. He’d been kissed senseless, he had a dark mark low on his throat... fuck... his clothes were fucked up and his cock still pulsed and ached. Resisting the temptation to jerk himself off to completion, Sam cursed and quickly changed into clean underwear and pulled his jeans back up. Rinsing his mouth with water, he spit out the memories of his brother’s tongue in places it didn’t belong. Yeah right.

By the time he had his clothes on straight, and the hicky hidden, he felt slightly better. Dry scrubbing his face, he walked out of their room and stood outside, against the wall, taking in the fresh air. He tried to remember Jessica’s face, tried to block Dean’s out in his mind. Then he dialed her number, closing his eyes as she spoke about school, and their friends, and normal things... slowly easing his fears and anxiety.

Dean’s grip tightened around his brother’s shaft, groaning, almost as though he were in pain, when the younger man’s fingers wrapped tightly around him and began to stroke his cock. It was good, so damn good, but it was almost too fast, too hard. He wanted Sam to go slower, to make it last longer, but he was too far gone at this point. Lust, more powerful than he’d ever felt in his life, overriding everything else and he didn’t want Sam to stop.

He panted heavily against his brother’s neck. Grunting and groaning with every movement of the younger man’s hand on his sensitive flesh. His hips snapping forward, thrusting between Sam’s fingers, desperate for more. Always more. Needing, wanting, burning, for more of his brother’s touch.

His own hand moved on his brother’s rock hard shaft to the same almost punishing rhythm. Speeding up his stokes whenever Sam did, as though it was now some kind of a race to see which one of them would finish first. Competing, fighting, in this like they did in everything else.

Dean was close, so damn close. Every muscle in his body drawing tight. The fire pooling in his belly ready to burst free and he didn’t want it to. He wanted to stay there on the edge where the pleasure was almost unbearable, but at the same time so sweet you wanted it to last forever. But Sam wasn’t letting him, forcing him over almost before he realized he was there, and the cry that was wrenched from his throat when he came was more protest than pleasure for a variety of reasons.

Though he was far too gone at that point to stop his orgasm from ripping through him like a tidal wave, he was left feeling unbearably cold when his brother suddenly wrenched himself out of his arms. Shivering with the loss of the younger man’s warmth even as his release coated his stomach in a hot sticky mess. Leaving him feeling unsatisfied even as his cock continued to pulse and his body shook with the aftershocks of pleasure.

The elder man’s eyes slid open, vision bleary and glazed, watching his brother walk away from him, and Dean whimpered softly. Reaching out for the younger man but Sam did not stop, turn around, or even look at him. The twist in his gut he felt then had nothing to do with pleasure, but at least the pain did not last long. The combination of alcohol and drowsiness quickly pulling him back under into a deeper sleep. Muttering his brother’s name softly.