As he brushed his teeth, Dean stared at his face in the mirror. He looked as exhausted as he felt, even though he’d slept like a log. Maybe he was catching something, though he didn’t feel at all sick. He spit the water out, finger combed his short hair and walked out of the bathroom.

On the way to the door, he picked Sam’s shirt off the ground and tossed it onto the duffel back. Ha... and little brother called him a slob?

Rubbing his eyes against the sunlight outside, he slowly headed to the diner. The smell of coffee was making him crave it. He’d probably snag Sam’s mug while waiting for a fresh cup. Yeah, that would piss Sam off.

Grinning at the thought, he entered the diner and started looking for Sam. Freaky-tall couldn’t really hide...

Huh?

He went to the cashier and asked about Sam and after pestering a couple of waitresses as well, he got this sinking sensation that they were telling the truth. He hadn’t been there.

Striding out, he looked around the vending machines, and the car, then checked back in the room. Telling himself Sam had probably gone to go get a paper or something, he calmed himself down and dialed.

Shit! The phone rang and rang. It was an unspoken rule between the brothers that they’d pick up each others’ calls quickly, or else it was fair to conclude something was wrong. Rejecting voice mail, he redialed, and when he heard Sam’s voice, let out a breath. “Where the hell are you Sam?”

Where the hell are you Sam?"

Sam sighed, closed his eyes. Dean. His Dean. Unpossessed Dean.
Could he tell him? Should he tell him? He looked at his jeans trying to decide if he could get them on with his wrists bound before Dean got there.
Apparently he was taking too long as Dean said his name again.

"Uh, I'm near the motel. I'm - I'm okay." he was rambling, he knew it, but he had to hide this from Dean, and he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to do that yet.
He needed to stall Dean until he could figure it out. Needed to give himself time.
Sam grabbed his jeans, tucking the cell between his shoulder and ear as he tilted his head and tried to get his pants on with his bound wrists.
"I -" Sam stumbled forward and almost dropped the cell phone. "Shit! Gimme a minute will ya, I'm trying to get my pants on."
He didn't even realize what he said until Dean asked him, 'What?'

Sam paused, eyes wide. "Nothing, Dean. I'm fine. I'm in the woods, um, walk out of the motel, turn to your right and walk eighty six steps straight out, and then..." Sam paused to think about that. That was the point when Dean had kissed him, just before they found the clearing. "Just a few feet further up. That's where I am."
Sam was pulling his jeans on as he spoke, Using the tree's body to balance himself.
"Oh and Dean... can you bring your knife?"
Sam hung the phone up then, shoving it into his front pocket. It was a little awkward, but not terribly hard to do.

Once his pants were fastened, he slowly sank to the ground, wincing slightly when he started to sit down.
"Damn Dean." he whispered softly, frowning.
He sighed, leaning his head back against the tree as he waited for his brother to find him.

The hell... his pants? Dean impatiently demanded again to know where Sam was and if his answer weren’t the strangest direction giving. Shit.

Dean was out the door like a shot, semi counting steps but knowing the distance Sam had given wasn’t that far. They should be able to hear each others’ shouts. If this was some kind of joke...

“Sam! Sam!” he shouted, “God damn it, answer me!”

Then he saw a clearing and a figure. “Fuck.” By the time he reached Sam, all sorts of things were going through his mind, mostly how he was gonna kill him for leaving and finding trouble and,,,

“Sam?” he said very gently as he bent down on his knees, fury lighting his eyes at the sight of his brother’s bound hands. The knife was out of his boot and in his hands, and he had Sam free. “What happened?” he started rubbing Sam’s wrists where the bindings had left deep marks.

“Sammy?” he looked up and saw swollen lips, and a red mark on his bare shoulder. “Fuck no.... no...” Up on his feet, he started to look around, spinning slowly as he listened to the sounds of the woods, trying to detect anything... anything that would give him a hint as to where the sons of bitches who touched his brother were. “Which way... which way did they go. Where Sam?”

Just looking at his brother hurt. It fucking hurt to know what happened to him, not once, but twice. Who the fuck was messing with his Sammy. Dean tried, tried to keep it together. Tried not to shout... not to fucking shoot at the empty space around them.

Sam sat under the tree, head back, his eyes closed as he tried to think of how to hide this all from Dean, not let him know it was he himself who had done... this.

After a few minutes, he heard his brother's voice yelling for him and slowly, Sam opened his eyes and looked over, but he didn't move, didn't yell back.
Dean was heading in the right direction, he'd be here in a minute.

He watched his brother hurry over to him, heard the concern in his voice as he said his name softly. Just his name, "Sam?"
Dean bent down on his knees in front of him then, fury lighting Dean's eyes as he looked at him. The knife was out of Dean's boot and in his hands, slicing through the tie. His tie. Fuck! Would Dean notice?

“What happened?” Dean asked him as he started rubbing Sam’s wrists where the bindings had left deep marks. Sam hung his head, couldn't look at Dean and lie. He shrugged instead, remaining quiet.

“Sammy?”
Sam raised his head, looking at his brother again, but he sure as hell wasn't going to answer that question. No way. If Dean knew, if he even thought... No. Just no.

“Fuck no.... no...” Sam sighed and shook his head as he watched Dean pull up to his feet, start to look around, spinning slowly as if he was going to find whoever he thought had grabbed Sam. While Dean's attention was else where, Sam tucked the tie under his leg, so Dean wouldn't see it.
Had the situation been different, Sam might have actually laughed as he watched Dean, and pointed out that people who... uh, do things like that don't tend to hang around the scene. As it was, it just made him feel more sick to think it, because, well, fuck, hadn't some part of himself... enjoyed it? Not to mention it was his own damn brother.

“Which way... which way did they go. Where Sam?”

Sam sighed and pulled up, hand against the tree for support. He was tired and achy and he really didn't want to have this conversation with Dean right now.
"It doesn't matter Dean. It's over. Just let it go, huh?"
Sam turned to walk back toward the motel, "I'm exhausted, I didn't get much sleep last night." he muttered as he started walking away.

“It’s not over, it’s not fucking over.” Dean stormed after him. “Yesterday you tried to say nothing much happened but... Look, I’m not an idiot. Sam... God damn it,” he grabbed his arm and forced him to stop, not missing how quickly his brother shrugged him off.

“Talk to me, please? I know... Look I get its...” It’s what? Embarrassing? Humiliating? Wrong. Fucked up beyond anything they’d ever known or seen? He took a few deep breaths, trying not to lose it, trying to rein in the rage bubbling inside him... trying not to scare or startle Sam who looked like he was on the very edge himself.

He licked his lips and stated walking, keeping his eyes straight ahead so Sam couldn’t see what was in his heart. “How about we do this, like we’re playing twenty questions, ok?” That was how Sam used to drag information out of him when they were kids, maybe it would work in reverse. “Demons or humans? I’m guessing humans... is that right Sam? More than one?” There was no smell of sulfur and the bite appeared to be human from what he could tell.

“It’s not over, it’s not fucking over.” Dean stormed after him and Sam rolled his eyes as he sighed. Why did Dean have to be so....so....adament about knowing? Why couldn't he just leave it alone? Sam kept walking... maybe if he pissed Dean off enough he'd just not talk to him at all. That would be better than Dean forcing the truth out of him.

“Yesterday you tried to say nothing much happened but... Look, I’m not an idiot. Sam... God damn it,”When Dean grabbed his arm and forced him to stop, quickly shrugged his hand off, as though it burned him.
He just couldn't do this. No, he couldn't. Dean touching his bare skin made images of the night before pop up in his head. Or at least memories of what he knew of the night before, not being able to see, and Sam sure as hell didn't want to think about it. Never again if he could possible help it.

“Talk to me, please? I know... Look I get its...” Sam raised an eyebrow at him. It’s what? Embarrassing? Humiliating? Wrong. Fucked up beyond anything they’d ever known or seen? Dean had no idea what it was. Sure, he thought he did.. actually, maybe what Dean thought would have been the better option. At least then he wasn't outside last night being screwed by his brother and.... oh god.... So wrong, so very very wrong.

But maybe Dean had hit on something there... he could let Dean believe what he wanted... he didn't have to tell him otherwise, and as for the questions, Sam could give just vague answers, after all, he was blindfolded, had it not been his brother Sam really wouldn't have known much.

“How about we do this, like we’re playing twenty questions, ok?” Sam glanced over at Dean then, saw that he wasn't looking at him, but looking straight ahead. Well, thank God for that, at least he could lie without Dean staring him in the face. He gave a brief nod, keeping his face blank, jaw clenched. If Dean asked the wrong question, this was ending. Right then, no more questions. Period.

“Demons or humans? I’m guessing humans... is that right Sam? More than one?”

Sam nodded, yes, human and shrugged, One, Dean. Just you. "I was blindfolded."
He glanced over at his brother then, to see what look he would have on his face and decided if Dean grit his teeth any harder he was going to break them.
Yeah, so not telling him the truth... not all of it anyway.

(This is a joint post – Fetish is Sammy; Cas is Dean)

For an instant, Dean closed his eyes and got as close to praying as he ever had, and all he wanted was some self control here. “Sam, you can count the number of steps you were taken, but you don’t know how many there were. More than one?” he guessed, trying to go back to the game.

Sam sighed, shook his head, "No. just one." This wasn't going well, Dean was asking too many questions that might lead him to the right answers. "And yeah, I counted... I had to.... do something to not..." Sam licked his lips, "panic."

Just one. Dean had been thinking more, cause Sam could take care of himself in a fight. Hell, he’d trained him. Again his fists balled up. “How’d they ... he get you?” His jaw pulsed at the silence. “Did you go out? You were out?”

Sam sighed, "Um, no. I wasn't out... I was...." he cleard his throat totally uncomfortable with this, "Getting a soda and um, he just kinda tricked me. I didn't know what was happening until I was blindfolded and my wrists tied together."

Dean thought back and knew he hadn’t heard anything. “How Sam? You fought him? You had to have called out,” he turned brilliant green on his brother, piercing right through him... cause Sam was hiding something, he just knew it. “I didn’t hear a damned thing.”

"You, uh, you were asleep... I fought, but..." he shrugged, "Out of practice I guess” He looked over at Dean then, frowning, "I was so not going to call for help in that situation! Fuck man! My shirt's off, the guys groping me!" he shook his head,


“That makes no sense. Who are you protecting? Huh Sam? Someone we know?” He put his hand out again, but Sam slipped away. Dean frowned at the way he kind of staggered. “Do you know who did it?” he asked point blank.

Sam paused between the door and the car. He didn't have his key. shit. He looked over at Dean with a sigh, "Look I don't want to talk about this right now. I just want to go inside our room and go to sleep. I didn't sleep all night. I was too busy standing with my hands tied above my head in a friggin' tree."

“Get in the car Sam.” Dean’s voice was deadly serious, his face implacable.

Sam looked at him, but didn't move. "Why?"

“Hospital. Now.”

Sam's eyes widened as he shook his head, "Oh hell no. I am NOT going to any hospital." he sighed, "Look Dean, I'm fine. I missed a nights sleep, my...my...I hurt, but otherwise I'm fine. No hospital."

“You won’t let me help you, you won’t talk to me... Okay, I freakin’ get I’m not the best person to talk to, okay? But you ... just get into the fucking car Sam. Please,” he lowered his voice, trying not to sound like he was about to ignite.

“Fine. Help me. Help me get into the room so I can go to sleep! I'm fine!" He couldn't go to the hospital, they do tests, they find out who, then Dean would find out who. No way. Besides, it was embarrassing enough without everyone else knowing what had just happened.

He was so frigging torn he didn’t know what to do, and that was a new feeling for Dean. Pressing his lips together, he opened the door and followed Sam inside, hardly giving him any space. He tried to put himself in Sam’s place... what if some guy had...

He blinked away the sting of tears, and swallowed. “I would trade places, if I could. But I can’t...” He knew what he’d want to do if it were him. “Do you want a shower?”

Sam looked over at his brother as they walked in, as he spoke. He felt like shit seeing Dean so upset, but god, it would be worse if he knew. A shower? Yeah maybe a shower would be good. He nodded, then, walking toward the bathroom door. "Dean," he said softly as he stopped at the door, head bowed, "Stop worrying, I'm okay." he told him.

“The hell you are.” I his brother didn’t look like he was about to break, Dean would have broken him... shaken the truth, the whole thing out of him. “Go on.” When Sam started to walk in, Dean followed again.

Sam walked into the bathroom without another word. He wasn't going to argue with him about this. Not if he could get some peace and quiet and sleep. Feeling Dean behind him, he turned around quickly, eyes wide, swallowed hard, "Dean?... what, uh, what are you doing?"

“I have to know if you’re hurt.” He averted his eyes from Sam’s.

Sam took a step backward, eyes impossibly wide. "What!? No, uh-uh. I'm fine. You don't need to... No Dean. No way."

“Sam it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, I just...” The panic roiling off his brother was almost too much. Too fucking much. Saying nothing, before he said too much, Dean turned on his heels and left the room.

Nothing he hadn't seen before? HA! That was almost laughable.... almost. Sam shook his head. "I can't." he said softly, just before Dean turned and walked out. Thank God for that. Sam grabbed the door, and quickly closed it and locked it, before leaning a hand, palm flat against the smooth surface, head bowed. How were they ever going to get through this?

With a sigh, Sam pulled away from the door, hands going to the fastening of his pants as digits unfastened the button and zipper.
Bending, he slid them down, the pulled up, stepping out of them. Feet were bare, not having bothered to put his shoes back on before, just carried them in with him.
Hands sat, fingers tucked into the waistband of his boxers, as he looked up into the mirror with a sigh, seeing the bite mark on his shoulder for the first time.
Damn. No wonder Dean had freaked.
He shook his head as he looked back down, pulling his boxers off.
Turning he reached into the shower and turned on the water, letting it get warm, testing it before he stepped inside and just let the water run over him, down his chest and stomach, before turning to let the water run over his neck and back. He stood there a long time like that, not moving, just letting the water soak him.

He could only imagine what Dean was going through, worrying.
Had the situation been reversed, had Sam thought that.... he sighed, closing his eyes and shook his head.
God, he hated letting Dean think that, but the truth was far worse... at least for Dean it was.
Dean had always promised to protect Sam... and now to be the thing that was... well, the problem... Dean would likely hate himself.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there like that, but by the time he finally moved to wash his body and shampoo his hair, the water had begun to get cold.
Once he had finished, Sam turned off the water and grabbed one of the towels as he dried off and stepped out of the shower, going on with things the way he normally would, tying the towel around his waist, combing his hair, brushing his teeth... Nothing unusual, until he turned and grabbed the door handle, opening the door slightly, before he thought better of it and stopped.

He peered his head out the door instead, "Uh, Dean...can you pass me the duffel?" he called from the open door.
There was no way he could walk out there in nothing but a towel, not now.

Dean had gone out and searched every inch of the motel premises and then the area of the woods where he’d found Sam. Curses spewed from his mouth like there was no tomorrow, and a few innocent people had gotten shoved out of his way near the vending machine. He found nothing.

Nothing.

Back in the room, he booted up Sam’s computer and started to search for information on sexual predators in the area. It was a fucking long shot. He didn’t even think it was a random thing because twice in a row... And he didn’t trust his brother. He wasn’t sure this person was human... or any of the other facts Sam had reluctantly allowed him to pull out of him. He got that Sam was hurting... hell... he was hurting and nothing happened to him... nothing except letting Sam down again. But something else was up, and Dean knew it in his gut.

And when his brother popped his face out the door and asked for clothes, that feeling just got stronger. Maybe there were other marks on him, maybe ... Maybe he’d wait until Sam fell asleep and then check him the hell out. Yeah... like waking to someone stripping him wouldn’t give him a panic attack.

Dean got up from the table and grabbed the duffel, and brought it to the bathroom door. As he passed it over, his hand brushed Sam’s. “Sam?” There was a long silence. “Get dressed.” Turning on his heels, he went back to his research.

Sam watched Dean as he grabbed the duffel, he wasn't sure what he had been doing, not opening the door wide enough to look.
Bringing the duffel over Dean's hand brushed Sam's and Sam gasped softly, eyes widening as he looked at his brother.
“Sam?” There was a long silence as they just looked at one another. “Get dressed.”

With that, Sam watched Dean turn and walk away. He let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and nodded as he pulled the duffel into the bathroom and closed the door again.
Sam sighed as the door closed, walking to the counter top he set down the duffel and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. Normally he would have just worn his boxers to sleep in, but nothing these days was 'normal'.

Slipping on clean boxers, he pulled on the sweatpants, then grabbed a tee and pulled that on as well, before opening the door and walking out, tossing the duffel onto the floor next to his bed, before sitting down on the side of the bed, wincing as he did.
He glanced at his brother then, trying to see if he saw that and sighed when he looked wrapped up in whatever he was doing on his laptop.
Sam laid back against the pills, "I'm just gonna take a nap. Wake me up in like an hour, okay?"

He was exhausted, mentally, physically, emotionally.... just exhausted.

Dean's jaw was pulsing. He didn't turn to look at Sam, afraid his brother would see the homicide written in his eyes. Whoever had done this to Sam... turned him into a jittery, scared. drained of life version of himself was gonna pay... big time. Dean didn't care if the guy was human. He didn't care if Sam hated him for killing a human. There were two things that he was sure of in his life now. One, he would die in six months. Two... he was gonna take that sonovabitch with him, and he wasn't making it easy on the guy. First he needed to find him, without Sam's cooperation, unless his brother changes his mind.

He finally turned his head slightly, just as Sam went down. It was hot. The airconditioner wasn't worth shit, and Sam was in sweats. There went that muscle in his jaw again. "You want tylenol?" he asked, almost gruffly.

"You want Tylenol?"

Sam had closed his eyes and still didn't open them, only nodded, "Yeah, might help." he muttered, before licking his lips and slowly opening his eyes.

Pulling up, Sam rose from the bed, and walked over to the duffel with the Tylenol. Bending to grab it, Sam winced and hissed slightly, before looking up at Dean with a shake of his head. "Muscles are sore Dean, from standing like that. I'm fine."

Grabbing the medicine, Sam turned and walked back toward the bed, popping the cap as he went. Taking a seat on the bed again he dumped, one, two, three pills into his hand, then recapped the bottle.

He looked up toward the bathroom then and sighed, hanging his head. "Forgot the water."

He'd have gotten him the damned tylenol and he didn't know why Sam had gotten up himself. Then he said he'd forgotten to get water, almost like he was gonna go get it himself, or like he couldn't bring himself to ask Dean.

"Don't move." Had his brother flinched at that innocent order, or was it his imagination. Did it make a frigging bit of difference? Dean walked into the bathroom and filled a glass, staring at the reflection of his own tired face. For someone who looked like crap, he sure had slept like a baby the times his brother needed him. He took a deep breath, released, then headed back to the room.

"Here." He passed the water to Sam and watched as he took the medicine. "Do you want me to rub your shoulders?" Deep down, he knew the answer, but fuck it all, they'd always taken care of each others' physical pain.

"Don't move." Sam looked up at his brother, couldn't help the way he flinched slightly at the command, so much like.... Sam swallowed hard and looked away from where his brother had disappeared into the bathroom, looking back down at the pills in his hand with a sigh.

"Here." Luckily, Sam had felt Dean's presence, known he had walked over to him and managed not to flinch or jump like a damn fool. This was Dean. His Dean. Unpossessed Dean. He needed to just relax, Dean wasn't going to do anything like what had happened last night.

Taking the water from Dean, he popped the pills into his mouth, then raised the glass to his lips taking a drink to wash it down, and thank God he had already swallowed the pills and was just taking another drink when Dean spoke. "Do you want me to rub your shoulders?"

He nearly choked on the second sip he took, jumping away from Dean as he did. "No!" Sam almost yelled, before he had the presence of mind to make himself hide the panic on his face, lower his voice. He moved, making sure not to touch Dean as he did, and set the glass down on the nightstand, before looking back at Dean. "I - I'm fine. Really, I don't need you to do anything." Sam told him, knew he was stammering, but couldn't help it.

He leaned back against the pillows, weary eyes still on Dean, "I just need to sleep."

"I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna tear that bastard into little tiny pieces and then I'm gonna kill him." Dean's vehement response to Sam's reaction came unbidden. He clamped his mouth shut too late. Sonovabitch, he couldn't get anything right. Not this week. You'd think he'd lost that damned cursed rabbit's foot.

As he headed back to the desk and sat, he knew there was one thing he could do... he could keep Sam safe right here, right now. He could make sure nothing touched him, and that he got some sleep. Maybe in sleep, he would find the old Sam.

Still frustrated as hell, he tried to make no noise as he abused the computer, only preventing himself from slamming it against the wall at times. Dammit... nothing... nothing that seemed plausible.

He rubbed his eyes, and started to read yet another article on a predator. His eyes were starting to close but he kept forcing them open. He was gonna guard Sam... he wasn't gonna fall down on the job, not this time.

*

Dean lowered himself onto the bed, next to Sam. The were face to face, only an inch or two separating their bodies. What had he done to his brother, to his Sam? Dean could kill himself for having been such an idiot. Unable to help himself, he put an arm around Sam's waist, holding him close and intending to sleep.

"I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna tear that bastard into little tiny pieces and then I'm gonna kill him."
Sam looked away from his brother then, "Dean, don't." his words so soft, he wasn't sure his brother even heard him.
He watched as Dean finally walked away, back over to the table and laptop. Sam closed his eyes then, relaxing back against the pillows.
It was no time at all before sleep claimed him. Sleep, welcome oblivion, where he could pretend that none of this freaky ass weird shit had happened.

**

Sam felt the mattress dip, but only rolled, adjusted the way he was laying, curled his legs slightly as he lay on his side.
Then Sam felt the warm... breath? against his lips... someone breathing?.... and the arm what went around his waist....
Hazel eyes snapped open wide as he looked at his brother. He swallowed hard, licked his lips. "Dean?" he asked panic evident in his voice as well as writen on his face.

“Sam?” Dean searched his face and immediately felt ashamed. Pressing his lips together, he made a face as he looked for words... dammit, he wasn’t the one who had words to describe his feelings, Sam was the one who did that best.

“I... You could have died, I...” He forced the words out. “If you had, I don’t know how I’d have continued. I can’t believe I did that.”

Seeing a question flash in his bother’s eyes, he cocked his head. “I left you with your arms up for hours... I... I must have fallen asleep.” He knew that leaving someone with their arms above their heads was dangerous, that their hearts would have to pump harder and after hours and hours of it, it would give out. “So sorry, Sammy,”he whispered, brushing his lips over Sam’s, tasting him ever so lightly.

He ran his hand up Sam’s back. “I put you in a world of hurt, didn’t I? I was pissed off when I left, but I didn’t mean to leave you like that, I swear... I’d never hurt you.” He hugged him then, so tight that neither of them could breathe. “Forgive me.”

“I... You could have died, I...If you had, I don’t know how I’d have continued. I can’t believe I did that.”

Sam wasn't sure what he was talking about... was this Dean or was this...? And if it was Dean, why did he have his arm around him?
He watched his brother cock his head, “I left you with your arms up for hours... I... I must have fallen asleep.”
Oh hell. Oh no. Well, that answered that question.

“So sorry, Sammy,” His brother whispered, and Sam swallowed hard, just as Dean brushed his lips over Sam’s.
Sam tensed, tried to pull back without seeming like he was.

He felt Dean run his hand up his back. “I put you in a world of hurt, didn’t I? I was pissed off when I left, but I didn’t mean to leave you like that, I swear... I’d never hurt you.” Angry? Why was Dean angry?

Dean hugged him then, so tight that neither of them could breathe. “Forgive me.”

Sam panicked, squirmed, raised a hand to Dean's shoulder to push him away as he forced a smile. "I'm - I'm okay. Just tired." he told him softly, licked his lips as he looked at him, tried to guess what he was going to do next so he'd be ready for it.

Dean’s gaze was transfixed for a minute on Sam’s tongue. Need washed through him and any other day, he’d have taken what he wanted. Not today. “Okay, Turn around.”

He saw a flash of panic in his brother’s eyes. “Just turn Sammy. There’s no tying today. No... Just gonna take care of you, I swear.” He gave him a push, to roll him over to his stomach.

Getting up on his elbow, Dean untucked Sam’s tee shirt and slid his hand under. He felt the muscles bunch and tense under his calloused hands as he started to lightly massage his brother. “Relax Sam. Close your eyes... sleep if you want.”

He didn’t feel any change, and could have kicked himself. “Don’t move.” Dean left the bed for only a minute, and returned with the same ointment he’d used to prepare Sam. A voice in his head reminded him he hadn’t done a good job of the prep, that he’d rushed. Guilt ate at him, but there wasn’t much he could do about that now.

This time, sitting on the bed next to Sam, he used the ointment and massaged him with both hands, splaying his fingers wide over Sam’s back. He worked on the muscles that had to have been stretched to their limits, and on his shoulder blades. He wished he was kissing a path down his spine, or up his sides... but this wasn’t about that, he reminded himself, doing his best to rein in the thoughts that would lead to sex if he wasn’t careful.

“Feel good, Sammy?” he moved his hand to Sam’s sides, letting his fingers dip under him to touch part of his stomach, then pulling back and starting over.

Okay, turn around."

Sam's eyes widened and he panicked, didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do...
“Just turn Sammy. There’s no tying today. No... Just gonna take care of you, I swear.”
Take care of me? What exactly does that mean? Then Dean gave him a push, to roll him over to his stomach.

Reluctantly, Sam rolled, though he tried to keep his eyes on Dean, see what he was going to do.
Dean raised up on an elbow and untucked Sam's tee, slid his hand under. Sam tensed, bit his lip, hands gripping the bed sheets. Don't Dean, just... don't.
Dean started to rub his back, but Sam was waiting for the other boot to fall. What was this? Rub little brother's back so he'll relax then screw him into the mattress?

“Relax Sam. Close your eyes... sleep if you want.”

Sleep? Was he insane? Yeah, that so wasn't happening. He was not going to fall asleep and wake up to...to... just no.

“Don’t move.”

Sam nodded, just before he felt Dean rise from the bed. He tried to look over his shoulder to see what he was doing, tried to look over his shoulder without looking like he was looking.
As Dean came back to the bed, Sam's eyes widened when he saw the ointment in his hands. No, no, no, no.
But then, Dean started to just massage his back with it, just a massage. Nothing more.... and Sam almost relaxed.

“Feel good, Sammy?” Dean was moving his hands to his sides, letting his fingers dip under him to touch part of his stomach, then pulling back and starting over.

"I - Mmm, yeah." Sam was torn between the fact that yes it felt good and the fact that he wasn't quite sure about this, wasn't sure where it was going... hoping it wasn't leading where he thought it was.
Maybe... since Dean wasn't going straight to that maybe... "Um, Dean?" Sam licked his lips, "You -you could just lay with me."
If he could get Dean to lay down, go back to sleep, maybe he wouldn't have to worry about anything.

“Lay with you?” Dean chuckled, “did you think I was going anywhere?” He nudged Sam to roll over on his side, so they were face to face again. Cupping Sam’s face, he stroked his mouth with is thumb, pulling his lower lip down slightly with each pass until Sam parted his lips.

Irresistible. That’s what his brother was, and he had no fucking clue. Dean leaned in and started to kiss him, slowly, letting their tongues tangle, exploring every corner of Sam’s sweet mouth. He slid his hand from his cheek, to the back of his head, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

With Sam’s hard frame pressed against him, Dean couldn’t help getting hard. It was just a condition he had to get used to being in around Sam. Needing to be closer, he inserted one leg between Sams, a sound breaking from the back of his throat when his thigh made contact with Sam’s cock.

“Relax Sam, just relax,” he said breaking the kiss and moving his leg lightly. God he loved it when Sam’s pupils got dilated like that ... Dipping his head, he moved his mouth over Sam’s eyes, his cheeks, his jaw... sliding down to suck on his throat.

The scent and taste of Sam, the feel of Sam fitted against him ... the sensations vibrating from the point on his thigh where he was pleasuring his brother... holy fuck, how was he supposed to fight the waves of lust rocking his body? Dean fought for control, struggled harder than he ever had... reminding himself how he’d taken things too far last night, and how he owed his brother something soft... something very very Sammy.

If he hadn’t been hurting, he would have laughed. Sammy thought he could sleep... just sleep with a lover. Fine, this was Dean proving him right... even if it fucking killed him.

"Lay with you?" Dean chuckled, “did you think I was going anywhere?” Sam parted his lips, was about to answer when Dean nudged him to roll over on his side, so they were face to face again. Sam rolled, letting go of the sheets as he did, with a bit of relief, but only a bit. Dean cupped his face, stroked his mouth with a thumb, pulling his lower lip down slightly with each pass until Sam's parted his lips. Sam watched his brother, weary of what he was going to do, yet he held perfectly still.

Dean leaned in and started to kiss him, and Sam opened his mouth to his brother without protest. Well, he had to, right? Dean kissed him slowly, letting their tongues tangle, as he exploring every corner of Sam’s sweet mouth. Dean slid his hand from his cheek, to the back of his head, pulling him closer.
Sam couldn't suppress the soft moan as Dean deepened the kiss. It wasn't that he liked it, wanted it. Dean was just a good kisser.

Dean moved slightly, inserted one leg between Sam's, Dean moaned as he moved his leg, his thigh brushing against Sam's cock. He jumped slightly, tensing.

"Relax Sam, just relax," Dean said as her broke the kiss, moving his leg lightly. Oh God, here it starts...
But, as Dean's leg moved, Sam's look of panic turned into one of passion. Mmm...why did it have to feel so good?
Dean dipped his head, and Sam's eyes slowly fluttered closed. Dean moved his mouth over Sam’s eyes, his cheeks, his jaw... sliding down to suck on his throat.
Sam's lips parted in a soft gasp of pleasure as Dean's mouth went to his throat. He needed to stop this... needed to tell Dean he just wanted to sleep.

Sam's head fell back, giving Dean better access as Sam's hips moved, rubbing his cock against Dean's denim clad thigh. A moan escaped his softly parted lips, eyes still closed.
He slowly raised his head again as Dean pulled his mouth away. "Dean..."
He watched his brother smile softly at him before lowering his head down on to the pillows, just gazing at Sam for a few minutes, before his eyes slowly closed.

Sam blinked at his brother, lips parting in shock. That was it? That was all he was going to do? ....oh, well, good. Right. Good.
Sam slowly lowered his head back to the pillow and looked at his brother for a long time, until he could hear Dean's soft snores.
Sam frowned as he laid there. Why the hell did he feel jipped? Feel like Dean should have done more... And why the hell was he hard as a friggin rock!?

Okay, this was just annoying as hell! Not to mention weird.... and wrong..... right?
With a sigh, Sam pulled from the bed and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower, before stripping his clothes off almost angrily.
Getting into the shower, his hand went to his hard cock and began to stroke himself. And no, he was not ready to admit that the image he came to was that of his brother fucking him in the rain.

Dean dropped to his knees and closed his arms around his brother. Nooooooooooooooo! He shouted to the heavens as his brother’s life seeped out of his body, and there wasn’t a God damned thing he could do about it. No.... no it wouldn’t end here... it wouldn’t end like this, it fucking couldn’t.

Unable to breath, Dean jackknifed up into a sitting position. “Sammy?!” His heart was pounding so hard against his chest, he thought it might fucking leap out.

Only the sound of the shower kept him grounded. His chest heaved as he tried to get himself under control. Nightmare... his nightmare... losing Sam. Again.

Dean swallowed. What happened to Sam was almost as bad as dying. His gaze drifted to the door of the bathroom. Showering again. How many would it take for him to forget the bastard who raped him?

“Sonova—“ Mid curse, he realized he was on Sam’s bed. He looked over to his own, then to the table, where the computer was still on. He got up to take a look and frowned. Last thing he remembered was sitting there. His eyes were closing, but he never got up. What the fuck.

Shaking his head, he went to the ice chest to grab a brew and clear his mind of sleep, and then he saw the duffle bag. The one he’d thrown Sam’s shirt on that morning he’d found him missing. “Wait a fucking.... no... oh hell no... no...”

Staggering backwards, Dean tripped over the chair and scrambled up. His face drained of all blood as pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Denials were still tripping from his mouth as he viciously kicked the fallen chair, sending it smashing against the door.

Sam stood in the shower long after he'd come a hell of a lot harder to the images in his head than he would ever admit out loud.
Okay, he was the one who was seriously messed up here, at least Dean was possessed. At least he couldn't help feeling... what was buried deep inside.
Sam's eyes widened as he thought about that. He hadn't thought about it, hadn't applied what they already knew, not to this, not to Dean.

He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, dried quickly and pulled back on the clothes he's had on before.
Okay, maybe he could talk to Dean about this... from a different angle...
Sam opened the door to the bathroom to see his brother turn and look at him eyes blazing with anger.

Sam's eyes widened in response. What the hell?
"Dude, what's wrong? I didn't use all the hot water...." Sam's sentence trailed off as he took in the chair on its side by the door, then his eyes slowly moved toward the floor, seeing his shirt from the other night... the shirt he'd let Dean believe.... Oh hell....

"Hey! You found my shirt." he tried to pull it off, tried to cover it up, but if Dean's huff meant anything, he was fairly sure it wasn't working.
Slowly he looked back at his brother. "Dean?"

(Joint post: Fetish as Sam; Cas as Dean)

Inside, Dean was trembling. Hoping he was asleep. Hoping he’d wake and this would all go away, or that Sam would say something that would make him feel like a fool for jumping to this conclusion.

“Enough!” he shouted, slicing his hands through the air. “Enough lies Sam. I know what happened. I know.” His gaze locked with his brothers.

Sam frowned at him, licked his lips, and nodded, "Yeah, I told you what happened. You found me, so yeah, of course you know." He looked away from his brother then, he couldn't lie and look into his eyes anymore.

The blood shot straight up to Dean’s temples. “Your shirt was in the room. In OUR room Sam. Not outside. In our room,” though he was shouting, the last came out in a tortured whisper.

Sam looked down at the shirt thrown haphazardly onto the duffel, "Was it?" he swallowed then, not looking up. Not meeting Dean's gaze.

“Stop it. Just fucking stop.” In a few strides, he was in front of his brother, roughly forcing him to turn and look at him. “Just yes or no, Sam. Did I rape you?” His chest heaved with the strain of trying to breathe. “Did I?”

Sam's eyes looked away and he sighed heavily. Technically, yes, it was Dean's body, but it hadn't been Dean. "Not exactly." Sam finally answered softly.

That nailed Dean’s coffin, right there. He gasped for air, trying to deal with the storm of emotions boiling inside him. “You could have stopped me. Sam you could have stopped me,” he insisted, jerking him forward and back as his eyes filled with tears. “You could have FUCKING woke me.”

"No, Dean, I couldn't have. You would have died." he shook his head again. "I would never do that."

“I am dead. In six months I’m dead... you should have... You should have Sammy, you should have punched my fucking lights out.” Seeing the protest still in his brother’s eyes, rage and self loathing coursed through him. “You think this is better... you think this is the way I wanted to go out.”

His hand shook as he gently touched the side of Sam’s face, his hair. “You think the last thing I want to remember is you flinching... God damnit... Godmannit Sammy...”

Sam's eyes moved to watch Dean's hand rise as he touched his face, his hair. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he looked at his brother, before his eyes narrowed angrily, "Dammit Dean, I tried to talk you out of it the first time and I nearly watched you die!" He huffed then, shook his head, "I wasn't going to watch that happen, Dean! I'm sorry, but you're my brother and ....no, I just couldn't."

“And how the fuck am I supposed to live with this? How can you?” Dean sniffed, taking his hand off Sam and using his sleeve to wipe at his nose and his tears. “So you were just gonna take it. Night after night, and not do anything about it.” He shook his head in a ‘yes’ motion, answering his own question.

Bile was rising in his throat as his imagination wanted to fill in the blanks. He calmly walked to the duffel and dug into it. “Come over here,” he met Sam’s gaze.

Sam looked at his brother, at the duffel, "Why?" What the hell do you want me to come over there for?

“I’m not asleep Sam. I’m not gonna...” This time it was Dean’s turn to look away.

"You didn't the last time either." he said softly as he stepped over to Dean.

So trusting. So fucking naïve. How the hell was Sam gonna survive in this world. How? But it would be the same today or six months from now. “Great, you can put that on my fucking headstone.”

Taking another deep breath, Dean moved lightning fast and grabbed Sam’s arm. His brother tried to fight, but he’d taken Sam by surprise and within seconds had him cuffed to the foot board. One hand only, he wanted him to be able to get out later.

Hot tears flowed down his cheeks, though he tried to blink them away. “Fuck. Sam...” he wiped his hand across his eyes. “I don’t even know how to say ‘I’m sorry’ for something like this. I don’t know where to start. Just... You just... you know... take care of yourself. Maybe one day forget...” What was he thinking, how could he ever forget?

Sam yanked at the cuff, looked at Dean in shock and panic, "Dean, what are you doing!? What.." He yanked at the cuff again, "Dean dammit, uncuff me!"

"Dean!" Sam shook his head, jaw set, angry now, "Don't you leave me like this! Dean, uncuff me and we can talk about this!" Sam looked at the cuffs and back to his brother, fear and panic on his face, "Dean...please...."

“You’ve probably said that to me before. It’s the last time.” The bitterness in his voice was laced with sorrow. He wanted to hug Sam, to just... one last hug, but he couldn’t. Not after what he’d done.

Dragging his gaze away, he walked to the nightstand. From its open shelf, he pulled his silver pistol, and shoved it into the waistband of his jeans. He almost ran to the door, because if he didn’t get out now, he might never. Yanking the door open, he said hoarsely, “see you on the other side bro.”


Sam watched his brother with wide eyes, lips parted in shock of what he was doing. "Dean!" he wasn't listening, just grabbing his gun, running toward the door. Sam tried to grab him as he passed by, but missed. "Dean!!"

As the door started to close Sam's heart was beating like it was trying to bust it's way out of his chest. "DEAN!!!!" he screamed his brother’s name, as tears stung his eyes.

Sam continued to tug at the cuffs in panic, hazel eyes wide. No, no! This wasn't happening! Dean was not... No!
"DEAN!!!" he screamed again in the empty room, tears falling now as his eyes darted around his surroundings. He needed to get free, needed to go after Dean. Talk to him, get him to see he was okay, that they were okay.

Hazel orbs fell on the duffel just out of his reach. The key!
Sam pulled on the cuffs, walking toward the duffel, only to be stopped short of being able to grab it. "No!" he muttered to the emptiness as he yanked harder on the cuff, the metal slicing into tender skin, but it didn't stop him, he didn't care about that.

The bed, the entire bed, slid with him toward the duffel and Sam gasped, looking back at the bed, tugged again and the bed slid more.
Yes! Yes! Yes!
Taking a breath, Sam took a step back, grabbing the foot board and pulled the bed one more time. Perfect!
Crouching, he grabbed the duffel and turned it upside down, spilling it's contents onto the floor, free hand searching through the contents.
"No, no, no, no...." he muttered, finding nothing of use.
Pulling up he looked toward the table, his laptop, and the case leaning against the far wall. Paperclip! In the case.
Looking back at the bed, Sam grabbed the foot board again and tugged hard, the bed sliding a bit farther than it had the previous times.
He reached out, but was still just shy of reaching the case. "Dammit!"
He made a mental note, to kick Dean's ass later for this, after he saved him from himself.

Grabbing the foot board again, Sam grit his teeth and pulled hard, the bed slid across the room, nearly knocking the table over and his laptop onto the floor.
Success!
Grabbing up the laptop case, he quickly threw it up onto the bed, unsteady hands searched the pockets for a paperclip, finally finding one, he pulled it out, looking at it as though he had just found the Holy Grail.
With a slight smile, he went to work picking the lock on the handcuffs. He was lose and heading for the door a few minutes later.
"Dean!!!"

Dean strode right to the impala and opened the trunk. He dug around and quickly found the shovel. Then walking to the driver’s side, he tugged the door open and dropped the keys on the chair. Running one hand on the roof of his car, he tapped it twice.

His gaze lifted, and he looked one last time at the motel door to his room, then he turned on his heels and left every fucking thing he’d ever loved behind.

Some guy seeing him head into the woods asked if he was going to dig for treasure. Dean just gave him a ‘back off’ look and took a path he’d learned only too well. How many times had he stubbornly gone ‘back there’ trying to find clues, hints… anything that would tell him who was fucking with… no… fucking his brother.

By the time he reached the tree where he’d first found Sam broken and waiting for him, Dean was breathing hard. He knew he had to do this fast.

Stripping off his overshirt, he set the shovel down, stepped on it and forced it into the grassy ground. The familiar smell of wet earth and grass surrounded him as he rhythmically worked to dig a shallow grave. It was one thing he could spare Sam. Not a big thing… not in the grand scheme of things, but it was something.

When he was done, he tossed the shove aside and sat on the side of the grave, legs hanging in. God he could use a drink right now. No. Nothing should make this easier. Nothing.

He pulled the pistol from his waistband and on auto pilot checked it was loaded.

Watch Sammy. Make sure you walk him to school and back.

I know dad, Dean rolled his eyes. When hadn’t he walked his pain in the ass kid brother?

He ran his hand over the weapon. It had served him well. Taken out a lot of other monsters.

Dean? Monsters are real, aren’t they.

Don’t worry Sammy, they won’t get near you. I got your back.

Yeah, right. I got his back alright. Dean took the off the safety. This was it. His hand shook slightly as he held the gun to his head. He took a few deep breaths, tightened his grip.

I trust you Dean.

Well you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have. Gritting his teeth, Dean started to pull the trigger. “Sonovabitch!” Taking a couple more breaths, he pushed the barren into his mouth and pointed it at his pallet.

Stepping outside the door, Sam saw that the Impala was still parked outside.
He frowned for a moment, then slowly looked toward the woods, "Oh hell no." he mumbled as he took off, almost at a run, feet still bare, toward the woods.
He ran through them, remembering the way from the night Dean had brought him out here.
Just as he reached the clearing the sight before him had him gasping, eyes wide.

Dean. Barrel of his gun in his mouth. Dean. sitting at the edge of what was obviously suppose to be his grave. Dean....

"No!!!" Sam yelled out as he ran and lunged himself at Dean, tackling him to the ground, the gun flying from Dean's hand in the process.
They wrestled for a few moments, before Sam managed to pin his brother, "Dean! No! No! You didn't know what you were doing! Don't do this!"

He knew it wouldn't be long and his small victory would be short lived. Dean always managed to turn the tables on him when they fought.
"Dean! Listen to me dammit!"

He wasn't listening, he was just upset and hurting and...
Sam grabbed the front of Dean's shirt, bunching it in his fist, and pulled his brother's upper body up from the ground slightly, then lowered his head and crushed his lips to Dean's.

A sheen of cold sweat covered Dean. Steadying his shaking hand, he blew out a breath and started to squeeze the trigger, concentrating so hard on getting this one thing right, he never heard Sam’s approach.

His brother’s yells seemed to be coming from far away, but only because Dean was so disconnected. The weight of Sam’s body, and his stubborn grip, on the other hand, was very real. “Sonovabitch... get off me...” so close, and now he’d have to start over.

He tried to scramble toward the gun, to do the right thing even when his brother hadn’t been able to, and was still blind to what was necessary. “I don’t wanna hurt you, get—“ Realizing he wouldn’t listen, Dean suddenly got rough. He’d already given Sam the ultimate pain, what was a little more? Not like he could make anything worse.

Dean closed his fist to knock Sam out, not like he’d never done that before. But before he got the punch off, he was dragged up and then Sam’s mouth descended over his. The unexpected act stunned him into pure inaction as he tried to make sense of this, sense of firm male lips crushing his own in a fierce kiss. It was both strange and familiar, it sent heat and icy cold inching through his veins and his body was reacting in ways it was not meant to.

The sudden urge to open his mouth and take control of what Sam started brought him to his senses. Grabbing Sam’s shirt, he pushed him roughly back. “Nice 'shock and awe' move, you feeling as dirty as I am now?” His chest rose and fell as he pushed Sam again and managed to get up, “I’m not gonna tell you again. Go back, get into the car, and drive the hell away from here,” he said through gritted teeth.

Dean grabbed him by the shirt shoving him away, effectively breaking the contact of their lips.
“Nice 'shock and awe' move, you feeling as dirty as I am now?” Dean was yelling, his chest rose and fell as he pushed Sam again, “I’m not gonna tell you again. Go back, get into the car, and drive the hell away from here,” Dean told him through gritted teeth.

Sam shook his head, "No." he said simply, "I'm not gonna do that, and I'm not gonna let you do," Sam looked around them then back at Dean, "this."

He took a step toward his brother and smirked as Dean actually took one back. "Who's flinching now?"
"You are not going to kill yourself, Dean, I won't allow you to. And if....if what happened means that you need to die, then shoot me too."
He waved a hand, "Come on, pick up the gun and shoot me!" Sam yelled at him, as he opened his arms wide, giving Dean plenty of target.

Sam narrowed his eyes on his brother, "Cause you know, what's really botherin' you, man, what really is freakin' you out, is now I know." Sam told him, his voice low, "Now I know how you really feel. The damn Aps couldn't have made you do that if it wasn't already in there somewhere." Sam told him, as his eyes ranked over his brother, "But, you wanna know the really fucked up thing? The thing that has really messed with my head about all this?" Sam asked him.
"Is the fact that after the stunned numbness went away, after I stopped kicking myself over the fact that you're my brother.... I admitted to myself that... I kinda liked it... so if you think about it, if you wanna punish yourself for being fucked in the head, you're gonna have to shoot me too."

Clenching his jaw, he stood, waiting, "So, come on, Dean, DO IT!...put us both out of our misery."

He hadn’t flinched, he’d backed away. Big difference when little brother was coming after you to stop you. Dean had himself convinced as he took the few steps to reach for the pistol. By the time he had it in his hand, Sam had his hands up and was shouting at him.

He waved a hand, "Come on, pick up the gun and shoot me!" Sam yelled at him, as he opened his arms wide, giving Dean plenty of target.

Like that was gonna happen. Dean just wanted him out of there, so he could finish what he started. What needed doing.

Sam narrowed his eyes on his brother, "Cause you know, what's really botherin' you, man, what really is freakin' you out, is now I know." Sam told him, his voice low, "Now I know how you really feel. The damn Aps couldn't have made you do that if it wasn't already in there somewhere."

“That’s not how it is,” the denial was hot on Dean’s lips, even as a dark cold stain spread in his stomach. “You don’t have a fucking clue, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Sonova… I would never… never Sam…”

Sam’s eyes raked over his brother, "But, you wanna know the really fucked up thing? The thing that has really messed with my head about all this?" Sam asked him.

No, he really didn’t want to know. It made no fucking difference. Alp or no Alp, he’d messed his brother up… messed him up good. He’d been the enemy within the gates. He could hardly stand to listen to this anymore. It had to end. He didn’t need to hear anymore about what fucked with his brother’s head.. he knew.

"…Is the fact that after the stunned numbness went away, after I stopped kicking myself over the fact that you're my brother.... I admitted to myself that... I kinda liked it... so if you think about it, if you wanna punish yourself for being fucked in the head, you're gonna have to shoot me too." Clenching his jaw, he stood, waiting, "So, come on, Dean, DO IT!...put us both out of our misery."

The blood shot to Dean’s temple, had it throbbing. “You might be the one who went to college, but I’m not an idiot. I can’t remember what happened, but I fucking know the consequences. You couldn’t look at me, you were in pain… pain Sam, what the hell did I do? You couldn’t bear for me to touch you… and now you think I’m buying this fucked up story you’ve concocted?” He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s a sick story… sick, you got that?” He shouted.

“Whatever that thing felt or did… it’s not ME.” Liar… somewhere inside, it had to be him. “And it’s gonna come back, and you’re gonna sit there and let it… and I can’t allow that. I won’t.” His hand gripped the gun and he pointed it at Sam’s knee. “Start walking.” He was through with tears, he was through with talking and his hard, implacable features said so.

Sam huffed at his brother as he aimed the gun at his knee.
"So, now if I don't walk away, leave you to kill yourself you're gonna shoot me in the knee? Is that it?" Sam shook his head, then nodded, "Yeah, that's so much better than fucking me, Dean. Great, thanks."

He turned then started walking away, one hand on his hip, the other at his mouth as he bit his nails. Dean was just going to kill himself, just bow out and let this...thing win?

He turned back around suddenly and glared at Dean, "You know, you are the most self-centered, conceited, bastard, I've ever known!"
Sam huffed then, "You're just gonna take the easy way out of this, just shoot yourself, and leave me clean up the mess." he shook his head, "And when you die, where's the Alp gonna go? Into me? Into someone else? Wouldn't that be nice?"
He turned back around with a huff, "Thanks, Dean, thanks a hellova lot for being such a damn coward."

He kept walking, angry strides carrying him away from his brother. He looked back over his shoulder as he walked, "Excuse me if I don't get to burying your ass right away, I gotta clean up the friggin mess my brother was too much of a pansy ass to help me with."
He turned around then, though continued to walk backward, as he glared at his brother, "You wanna know what's the most fucked up of all? I use to want to be just like you." Sam shook his head, jaw set, "Not anymore."

"So, now if I don't walk away, leave you to kill yourself you're gonna shoot me in the knee? Is that it?" Sam shook his head, then nodded, "Yeah, that's so much better than fucking me, Dean. Great, thanks."

Dean’s eyes glittered. His aim never wavered.

Sam turned then started walking away, one hand on his hip, the other at his mouth as he bit his nails. Dean was just going to kill himself, just bow out and let this...thing win? He turned back around suddenly and glared at Dean, "You know, you are the most self-centered, conceited, bastard, I've ever known!"

A muscle flexed in Dean’s jaw. Yeah, he was all that. He’d never claimed to be anything else. But mostly he was the bastard that raped his brother.

Sam huffed then, "You're just gonna take the easy way out of this, just shoot yourself, and leave me to clean up the mess." he shook his head, "And when you die, where's the Alp gonna go? Into me? Into someone else? Wouldn't that be nice?" He turned back around with a huff, "Thanks, Dean, thanks a hellova lot for being such a damn coward."

Dean’s gut twisted. Trick… just another trick. His brother knew how to play him. Knew him to well. He wasn’t gonna be talked out of this, it had to fucking be done.

Sam kept walking, angry strides carrying him away from his brother. He looked back over his shoulder as he walked, "Excuse me if I don't get to burying your ass right away, I gotta clean up the friggin mess my brother was too much of a pansy ass to help me with."

Crap. How was Sam gonna take care of this alp. What if he was right and it came after him again, through someone else, or took him over too? Various scenarios flashed through Dean’s head, none of them ending well for his brother. Then there was the hurt accusation in Sam’s voice. Strange, he hadn’t sounded like that when they’d argued over whether Sam should have wakened him.


He turned around then, though continued to walk backward, as he glared at his brother, "You wanna know what's the most fucked up of all? I use to want to be just like you." Sam shook his head, jaw set, "Not anymore."

Dean lowered the gun and stared at Sam for a long time, struggling to find an answer where there were no good ones. Sam had wanted to be like him? A lump rose in Dean’s throat. He swallowed over it and strode toward Sam, brushing past him. “Not my fault you picked a fucked up role model.”

He’d failed, again and again, he’d failed Sam, he’d failed his dad… he was just a fuck up. He’d help Sam with the alp thing if they figured a solution by night time. If not… he’d walk right out the door and never come back. Nothing would stop him from killing himself because waking up to Sam tied up, or hurt, or … it wasn’t an option.

Sam watched as Dean finally lowered his gun. Something, something he had said had hit it's mark, finally.
Dean stared at him for a long moment and Sam started to feel uncomfortable, like his brother was looking right through him, though he never looked away, kept his jaw set as he stared angrily back.
Then finally, Dean moved, started to walk toward him. Sam watched him as he walked up to him, then brushed past him.

“Not my fault you picked a fucked up role model.”

Sam sighed, as he turned his head to watch his brother walk back toward the motel.
So that was what had made it through. Not the fact that he hadn't minded what had happened, not that Dean was being a selfish ass, not that Dean shooting him was a hell of a lot worse than what he had already done. It was the wanting to be like Dean.
He huffed as he turned and started to follow Dean back. Wouldn't Dean be shocked to find out that he still felt that way... still wanted to be like Dean.
Sam made his way up to walk next to his brother, falling into step with him, "I figure we oughta go back. Look at the site where we did the ritual. Maybe we messed up. Maybe some of the things we used weren't good enough. Maybe we did something wrong." Sam suggested.

But no, he couldn’t even fucking die in peace. Little brother had to remind him that he was about to fail again by leaving him unprotected against the Alp.

Then Sam was suggesting they re-do the ritual, and Dean was trying to keep his seething under control. You should have awakened me. God damn you Sammy... you should have.

He wasn’t in the mood to talk, so he mostly cross-examined Sam, demanding to know why he’d waited so long before coming up with that ‘brilliant idea’ of reworking a ritual that hadn’t worked. Even his brother’s explanations that he’d been cross referencing the ritual, trying to find out if maybe the version they had was corrupt and there was a more complete one out there, didn’t satisfy him.

What the fuck made him think that a re-do would work? Sam said he’d gone over every reference to the ritual and found nothing wrong with what they’d done, but he had a gut feeling. “Gut feeling, my ass. Get what you need.”

He didn’t dare walk into the motel room with Sam, he didn’t dare look at him, and he did his best to not to visualize the things he might have put his brother through. That was hard. If they didn’t get out of here fast, he was going to have a melt down.

"Gut feeling, my ass. Get what you need.”

Sam looked at his brother for a second before shaking his head, as he walked into the room.
"You know, if you insist on not looking at me, it's gonna be kinda hard to work together." he mumbled just before closing the door behind himself.

**

Sam walked out of the room ten minutes later, dressed in his jeans, boots and two shirts as always, jacket on too as he carried all the supplies he thought they might need with him.

Stopping next to the car, Sam looked over at his brother, "Dean," Sam sighed, "Dean, look at me."
When his brother finally looked over, Sam nodded, "We're gonna take care of this, it's gonna be okay, dude."

Dean stared at him across the roof off the car, kept staring even after Sam disappeared into the car. “It’s never gonna be okay.” Lips tightening, he got inside. As soon as they were out of the lot, he cranked up the radio so loud, it drowned out the voices in his head... the accusations... the regrets. But the guilt... nothing could drown that out.

He took the highway like he was being chased, the Impalas’ engine roaring as he stepped on the accelerator. Even seeing Sam grab the ‘oh shit’ handle didn’t have him slowing.

There was no chit chat. No laughs. Not even any arguments. He could barely bring himself to answer Sam when he talked. He did stop to get coffee a couple of times already. There was another one hour to go, and he pulled off the highway again.

Once he got to a gas station, he parked near the mini mart. “Coffee?” he asked, looking out the front windows. He couldn’t take the risk of falling asleep, especially now that he knew that he hadn’t been getting any sleep at nights.

Sam looked over at his brother as he asked about the coffee. "No, dude. We've had like three cups already. Don't you think that's enough?"
Sam shook his head, "A coke, I'll take a coke." he told his brother with a sigh, shaking his head.
Dude was gonna have to stop to piss every five minutes if he kept drinkin' so much coffee, then they'd never get there.

Sam sat back in the seat, letting his head fall back with a sigh and closed his eyes.
His brother really needed to stop punishing himself over this. He had been possessed. It wasn't his fault. Sam knew that even though the feelings had obviously been in there, Dean never would have acted on them otherwise.

He remained in that position until he heard his brother's annoyed huff.
Opening his eyes, Sam pulled his head up and took the coke he was holding out from him. "Thanks."
He popped the top on the can and took a drink as he watched his brother, "You know, you don't have to OD on caffeine, Dean. It's gonna be okay."
He sighed and shook his head then as Dean pulled the car back out onto the road.
They would get there, fix whatever they had obviously messed up and this whole thing would be over.

Sam glanced over at his brother from the corner of his eye. Well, the Alp would be over, he wasn't so sure about anything else.

Dean had kept a lid on it this whole way. Did his best not to blow up, not to pull over, order Sam out and drive the hell away from him, from this nightmare. He’d stuck to the plan... get rid of the Alp for good, then work on a new one... figure out how he was supposed to keep it together and not self combust. Or maybe that was plan B...

But Sam had to keep on about being okay, and the blood shot straight to Dean’s temples. He turned his head, fire practically sparking from his eyes. “Keep saying it, and maybe you’ll fucking believe it some time.” He gave him a sharp, both of them knew it was a lie.

Deliberately looking away as if the conversation was over, he put his elbow on the window frame, and drove with one hand over the steering wheel. Fight it. Fight the confusion. Fight the disgust. Fight the darkness inside.

He was so tired of it, of fighting. But couldn’t rest... his dad always said, no rest for the wicked.

The car ate up the miles and by the time they reached their destination, the moon was high in the sky. Dean pulled over and pulled the brake.

In unison, the opened their doors and were out the door and at the back of the car, getting their supplies out of the car. Dean grabbed a flash light, and then started flashing it over the ground where they’d performed the ritual.

Sam turned around, items in hand as he watched Dean looking around the area like he was going to find the secrets to the universe if he looked hard enough.
He sighed as he walked away from the trunk shaking his head.
He hadn't said anything to Dean since Dean had snapped at him earlier. He really did believe everything was going to be okay, he was just trying to get Dean to believe it... cause he sure as hell didn't look like he did.

Sam stood looking around the area as Dean continued searching round muttering curses as he went and that's when Sam saw it, the candle, unburied, still burning.
"Dean! I found the problem!" Sam called out to his brother as he dropped to his knees, trying to snuff out the candle.

When Dean came over, Sam glanced up, "The candle wasn't buried, still lit. If we put it out and bury it, we'll be good."

At Dean's out burst, Sam sighed and sat back, candle still not out.
"Dean I did the research, we did this right, All we gotta do is get the candle out and bury it, dude. Trust me."

(JP: Fetish as Sam and Cas as Dean)

He was so pissed off he could barely hold it together. That night they’d performed the rituals, they’d had trouble snuffing the candles... had they really left it behind, God damn it...

“I don’t care what your research says, we can’t take any chances.” A muscle pulsed in his jaw at how lightly Sam seemed to be taking this. “We start from scratch.” His voice brooked no argument.

An hour later, the ritual was complete and he just couldn’t walk away. Three times, he walked back from the car to be sure. One last look, and he joined Sam in the car.

He hadn’t been this tired since the time he’d had to stay awake to keep that dreamwalker out of his head. But back then, he hadn’t been on edge. Not like this.

Sam watched his brother walk back to look, and then do it again and again. By the third time Sam was sighing and rolling his eyes.

He waited until Dean started the car and pulled away, before he looked over at him. "So, exactly when did it begin?"

Lips pressed together tightly, Dean glanced over. “What?”

Sam raised an eyebrow, "You know... how you feel...about me."

Turning back to look at the rode, he answered. “I don’t feel like that... that’s one thing you can bet on.” Again, the ache was back in his jaw. The darkness chilly feeling spread in his belly.

Sam sighed, shook his head, "That's not what the Alp found."

There was a long, charged silence. He gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white. “It was a long time ago.” Blow my brains out. Please blow my brains out. He turned up the music, as if there was nothing more to say.

Sam leaned forward turned the music back down as he shook his head, "If it was gone the Alp wouldn't have found it, Dean." he said softly, watching his brother.

Dean took a couple of deep breaths. “So what now? You think I walk around with thinking of you all the time? You think I’m some pervert who walks around wanting to fuck his brother, is that it?” He looked over, “if that was it, I’d have left your ass at college. It’s not how it is.”


Sam sighed, "No, that's not what I think, Dean." he looked away, licked his lips, then looked back, "When - when was the first time...that you thought it? Is it something I did, or..?"

Stepping on the gas pedal, Dean tried to prevent those memories from crawling back into his head. He’d worked so hard to keep them out, and now Sam was making it impossible. If he crashed into a tree...

If he crashed into a tree, he’d kill his brother. Dammit. He pulled off the road, and skidded to a stop. Opening the door, he got out and walked to the front of the car, and sat down on the hood. It was dark. The moon was hiding behind clouds now. Maybe he could spit it out here, where his brother couldn’t see his face.

Sam's eyes widened as Dean pulled off the road, the car skidding to a stop. [I[What the hell? [/I] He looked from his brother, out the window to the darkness and back, just in time to see him slide from behind the wheel, stepping out of the car. Sam watched him through the window as he sat on the hood. Sam quickly grabbed his door handle, opened the door and got out, walking up to his brother, he stood beside the car, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. "Dean?"

“You’re not gonna let up, are you?” It was almost rhetorical.

Sam sighed, "Why can't you just tell me? It is about me after all, I think I have a right to know."

“Right to know what’s in somebody’s head?” He put his hand to his temple and took a deep breath. “What should have stayed buried there?”

Unconsciously emulating his brother, he stuffed his own hands deep in his pockets. “Mt. Hood.” He swallowed hard. “I found you in that cave and...” He started to flash back. Sam had been what? Maybe sixteen? He’d found Sam, spread eagled to the ground, hands and legs bound. Eyes covered with a black piece of cloth.

Shame washed over him at the memory of his first feelings. He hadn’t been angry at the thugs who’d tied him up. He hadn’t been worried that Sam might be out of his head with fear. No... he’d felt all of his blood pool to his groin. His breath had caught in his throat. He’d imagined leaning over him, kissing him while he wouldn’t know who it was... while he could get away with it.

Sam frowned, brows raised, "Mt. Hood? But, when you found...." Sam looked down nodded slightly, "Oh." he said softly. "I see."

There went the pulse again. “Well I didn’t. I didn’t see. I didn’t understand... I was just...” A couple more deep breaths. “I was blindsided. The whole time I was untying you I was thinking... I don’t know what it was about that moment, that scene... I couldn’t get it out of my head.”

He swallowed. “I tried, but every once in a while, when I was alone... I just... I beat off to what I’d been thinking, and then I was sick over it.” He remembered how he’d fought it, how he’d railed against the images that warmed into his mind when he was in bed, or in the shower. How he’d rearrange what happened, so that he was kissing and touching Sam, safe in the knowledge his brother didn’t know who was doing the touching.

His voice deepened with emotion. “Then I just started doing every girl that moved. Thought about a girl every time I wanted to think about Mount Hood. It took a while, but it was over.” He’d compartmentalized, just like he did with his other emotions. Then he’d buried it so fucking deep, he’d forgotten about it. “It was over Sam, I swear.”

Sam stood there, speechless as he stared at his brother. "I - I had no idea." he said softly, before hanging his head. Sam inhaled deep as he raised his head, licked his lips as he looked over at his brother, a muscle in his jaw twitching, "I apparently wasn't totally over... When did it start again?" he asked softly. “If it hadn't started again, or else stayed there, just as fresh, just as alive, the Alp never would have found it. If you stopped liking something, it's residue wasn't sitting inside you for a demon to find, so yeah, when?”

“Aren’t you fucking listening,” Dean growled. “It was over. I never thought about it again. I’m not lying... hell, what the fuck’s the difference? It was there, it found it... and I raped you. Talk over, I can’t do this anymore.” He pushed off the car.

Sam pulled his hands out of his pockets, turned to look at Dean as he walked around the car, "You didn't rape me, Dean. Remember, I could have woke you up... or did you suddenly change your mind about that?" He sighed then, ran a hand through his hair.

Dean rounded on him. “You could have. You fucking should have. But you couldn’t. You decided to take one for the team, because you couldn’t kill me. And you’ll say anything... anything you think I want to hear. Well there’s nothing... not a damn thing that you can say to make this any better Sam.” Angry, he strode to the driver’s side and got in. If he could have puked, he would have.


"You know what, Fine!" he walked to the car door, pulling it open, "Let's just go back to the room and get some sleep." he told him as he climbed into the car, closed the door, looking out the side window. Did you also forget that I told you I kinda liked it?
Sam huffed, kept his gaze turned out the side window. They'd talk about this later...when Dean was in a better place to talk.

That was the end of the talk, or any talk. They made several pit stops to take a leak and get more coffee, but otherwise drove straight back to the motel. If Dean had been thinking straight, they would have packed their gear instead of going back. The thought of spending another night there scared the shit out of him.