He was on fire. Burning. His flesh melting away from muscle and bone under the heat of the flames. He screamed and fought against the restraints holding him. Screaming in pain, but there was no one to hear him. No one to help him. Why wasn't he dead already? A fire as hot as this should have already killed him, burned him to ash within seconds. Why was he still alive? How could he still feel this pain? Maybe he wasn't alive at all? Maybe he was in hell?

Dean twisted in his sleep. Moaning in agony. His breathing harsh and labored. His heart racing uncontrollably fast.

They'd underestimated him and he'd finally managed to escape. He had been running through the woods for hours, his breath like fire in his lungs and his blood pumping like acid through his veins but he didn't care. He had to get out of the forest. Had to find a road or better yet a town, a house, anything. He was starving, he hadn't eaten in days, and his already bruised and battered body screamed in protest but he still ran.

This was his only chance. He'd endured the fights in the pens. He'd survived their attempts to beat him into submission. He'd ignored the werewolf bitch's attempts to seduce him. He had to get away before she made good on her threat. Before they turned him… made him one of the pack…

If only he knew where he was. If only he knew which way to go. For all he knew he might be heading deeper into the forest instead of out of it, but he had to try. He wouldn't give up. He wouldn't let them take him again. He couldn't. The snap of a branch to his left was his only warning…

He screamed as he fought against unseen attackers. Trying to get out of the way. Trying to twist out of their grip. The sheets tangling around his body as he threw himself back. Growling viciously. Landing hard on the floor.

He screamed and cursed and fought as they held him pinned to the dirty floor. Struggling uselessly against their greater strength, they easily held him down while she ran her hands possessively over his body. Forcing his legs open. No. No. She moved in closer, baring her teeth. Caressing his inner thigh almost tenderly.

You're mine…

"No! Never! Don't touch me, you bitch!" He screamed hoarsely, crawling back. His back hitting the wall in the corner. His eyes wild and unfocused. Dangerous.

Sam came awake with a start, automatically saying Dean’s name even as he forced his eyes open. Dean was thrashing next to him, shouting wildly, but his eyes were still closed most of the time. He tried to hold him down, bodily. “Dream... just a dream, Dean. Listen...”

Dean practically shook him off. “Dean!” Grabbing his brother again, he tried to talk some sense into him, but Dean wasn’t having it... he was somewhere else in his mind.

One touch of his forehead showed Sam how hot Dean was burning again. “I’m gonna run a bath again,” he said, scrambling off the bed though Dean wasn’t listening. Getting him to the tub was gonna be much harder now.

As the water filled, Sam tried to get Dean to get up again. Dean pushed him away so hard, Sam almost shoved him. It was just instinct, but he got a hold of himself. Maybe he should get Dean to the doctor... maybe.

Jumping off the bed, he shut the water down and stared at Dean. His brother was so hot and flushed, the doubts started piling again. Did he have a right to keep him here and away from help? What if something happened, would dad tell him he should have taken Dean in? Blowing out a deep breath, Sam got his phone and walked to the window.

As he dialed his dad, he looked outside. Nope, no full moon yet. But it was getting closer... definitely getting closer. “Hey. Sorry for... no, well, yeah there’s a problem.” Sam bit his lip, already anticipating his dad probably thought he should be able to handle whatever it was that was happening. He quickly gave him the run down on the fever situation. His dad told him about a homeopathic way of bringing the fever down and said if the situation didn’t change by morning, to take Dean in.

“Okay... I’m just...” Sam glanced over at Dean. “As soon as he’s resting easier, I’ll go.” There had to be an all night drugstore, there just had to be. “See you.”

Dean pressed his back protectively against the wall so no one could sneak up on him. He wasn’t going to let them take him again. He wasn’t! He’d kill any of them who tried. He’d kill them with his bare hands if he had to. He’d rip out their throats with his teeth. They’d tried to come for him at the bar, tried to take him and Sam...

Sam...

Where was Sam?

He was close. He could smell him... hear him... but he couldn’t see him. That might have had something to do with the bed in his way, blocking his line of vision. Sammy. Sam. He wanted to see Sam. Dean pushed himself up, using the wall behind him for support, until he was finally standing on unsteady legs. Blinking a few times to clear his swimming vision before his brother finally came into focus. Mostly. The younger man over by the window, talking on the phone...

Who was he talking to? Sam was always talking to people behind his back. When he thought he wasn’t listening. Going outside where he thought he couldn’t hear, and Dean didn’t like it. Not one bit. Talking to people like this... Jess... person who Dean didn’t know. Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Dean growled under his breath, a low dangerous sound, as he stepped away from the wall. Immediately having to reach out to brace himself before he fell over.

Sam had been so upset. Upset enough to almost wreck his car after the first time they’d fucked. Made love... fucked... His brother so upset when he’d asked Dean if he’d ever cheated on anyone. Sam was cheating on him? Wanting to be with that... other... person rather than Dean. I love you. That’s what he’d said. Sam had told him he loved him. But he loved someone else too... no... Sam was only supposed to love him!

Now Sam was talking on the phone again. Talking to them! The person he loved other than Dean. He was going to see them. He was going to leave him. Leave him just like before. Leave him and never come back...

NO!

Dean didn’t know how he made it across the room. Tearing the phone out of his brother’s hands viciously and throwing it. Hearing the satisfying crunch of breaking plastic as it hit the wall hard. The even more satisfying crunch of cracking glass when he grabbed the younger man and shoved him hard up against the window. One hand around Sam’s throat, squeezing. The other around his arm, fingers and nails digging brutally into his skin.

“You can’t leave! You can’t!” Dean screamed, enraged, into his brother’s face.

“Dean!” Sam shouted at his brother the instant the phone was ripped from his hand and thrown clear across the room. “What the—“

Before he got a single sentence out, he found his head smashing back against the glass as hard as the phone had hit the wall. Pain shot through his head and his ears rang, and the shouting in his face wasn’t helping. “Are you fucking nuts? Get off me,” he yelled back, though all that came out of his mouth was a strangled sound.

Awareness of a new source of pain, and the threat of his air path getting blocked, put Sam into a state of panic. “Let go Dean… I can’t bre… God…” Putting all of his strength into it, he punched Dean hard under the chin with the heel of his hand, freeing himself and taking a few unsteady steps away. He gulped lungfuls of air, and started to turn, only now realizing that what had been at his throat was claws… or at least something sharper than nails. His heart thudded hard against his ribs. Please. Please don’t let him have turned. Please… it’s too soon.

Dean tasted blood in his mouth when he was struck, the blow strong enough to make him instinctively let go of his prey as he stumbled back unsteadily and almost fell. Rage more than strength kept him standing, and his eyes were practically murderous when he reached out and grabbed the other man again by the hair and bodily threw him down onto the bed.

There was nothing even remotely rational in his eyes anymore as he pinned his brother down to the bed with his own weight, holding the younger man’s wrists above his head in an iron grip, and his legs trapping Sam’s so the other man couldn’t kick him. He practically snarled at his brother, just daring the younger man to try to hit him again… to try to get away again…

He wasn’t going to let Sam leave him again. Wasn’t going to let his brother go to someone else and forget about him again. He wasn’t… Sam was his, belonged to him… he needed Sam. He was going to make him remember. Make Sam remember who he belonged to.

Dean’s golden yellow eyes watched in fascination as his bright red blood dripped down onto Sam’s pale cheek, watched as a thin line of blood flowed down the younger man’s forehead from his hairline. The elder man leaned in and licked at it almost tenderly. Swiping his tongue across Sam’s skin and then groaning softly at the taste of their blood mingling together. So similar and so different at the same time.

It was two steps. Two seconds. They slipped away so fast between the time he turned and saw the pure rage on Dean’s face, and the time he was thrown onto the bed. Sam fought, maybe for his life, but every attempt to make Dean release him brought with it more pain, and was futile. He wasn’t facing human strength anymore.

Breathing hard, the air puffing his cheeks out each time he blew out, Sam had no choice but to stare into his brother’s face and see the unnaturally yellow glow in his eyes. Holy... Dean... As his chest rose and fell, and as he registered the pain Dean was still inflicting on his wrists, he shook his head ‘no.’ At least he was in human form... Please don’t shift.

Time stood still. His mind slowly unthawed and he started to recall what he’d read about Alpha wolves demanding complete obedience and submission. He felt the droplets of blood land on him, and just managed to repress a sound of disgust when Dean licked it off him.

Animal. No, Dean had to still be there inside... he had to. Quickly looking down, practically shutting is eyes and only able to see Dean as a shadow through his eyelashes, he nodded and whispered. “Okay.... whatever you want, okay Dean. I’ll do whatever you say.” He had no idea what Dean wanted, why he was this angry and upset. It couldn’t just be because he’d promised to go to the pharmacy. No, is brother had to be in the throes of some fever induced nightmare or delusion.

He licked is lips. “I’m not moving, see. Whatever you want,” he whispered, trying to soothe. What if the taste of blood-- His throat convulsed. “Dean, don’t hurt me. Please.”

Blood and sweat. Heat and fear. Dean could smell it all, mingled with Sam’s own unique scent, when he leaned in close to his brother’s neck, inhaling deeply. He could feel the younger man’s heart racing, pounding hard and fast against his chest. His panting, desperate, breaths so loud in his ears it was almost deafening.

Sam was afraid. Helpless in his grip. Like a captured frightened animal waiting for the predator to move in for the final kill.

Dean growled and licked his lips. Still able to taste the blood in his mouth. Thick and rich. But he had no desire to taste any more of it. No desire to rip into the fragile flesh so close to his lips, because he wasn’t prey. Not his prey, just his.

He felt the younger man’s body relax, no longer fighting, no longer trying to get away from him and in turn Dean slowly relaxed his bruising grip on the other man. Staring down at Sam when his brother averted his eyes and the rumbling, threatening, growl in his chest stopped. A primitive instinct inside him satisfied by the younger man’s submission, and that’s when he finally heard his brother’s soft whispered words.

“Don’t hurt me...”

Dean blinked. Surprise and confusion flickering across his face before he shook his head. No... no he didn’t want to hurt Sam. He never wanted to hurt him. He just... didn’t want him to leave. Couldn’t let him...

He groaned softly at the wave of dizziness that washed over him, whatever strength he’d found in the last few minutes seeming to bleed out of him like through an open wound. Pain and heat once more taking its place and Dean moaned in pain as he buried his face against the younger man’s throat. Nuzzling and kissing the soft vulnerable flesh tenderly as he slowly released Sam’s wrists. His body resting heavily on top of his brother’s.

Eyes closed, heart still slamming against his chest, Sam kept as still as he could as Dean kissed his throat. Even when he released him. Even when he lay on him so heavily and motionless that it was clear he’d gone to sleep or was out of it, Sam waited. What he’d seen in Dean’s eyes… he didn’t want to face that again.

The seconds ticked by like hours. First he lightly shook Dean. When that had no effect, he slowly rolled him half way off his body and sat up. He hurt, in some places more than others, but it was worse than he’d thought. One glance at the bed, and even in the dark, he could see the dark marks on the sheets… blood.

Carefully, without any sudden motions, he tried to help Dean up, then took all of his weight and managed to get him the few feet back to his own bed. He barely arranged him on the bed before heading for the bathroom.

Switching the lights on, he touched the back of his head and brought his hand in front of him. His fingertips were wet with blood. He had a mother of a headache, but the cut didn’t hurt. Turning, he saw that most of the blood was seeping through his tee shirt. Pulling it off and looking behind him in the mirror, he saw claw marks… his flesh and skin jagged and ripped. “Christ…”

Ten minute later, he was showered and had done a half-assed job of bandaging his back. He pulled on a new tee, and jeans, then walked to the bed. Turning on the lamp, he stripped his dad’s now bloodied bed. God he was tired. So fucking tired, but also wired. Was he really going to have to bring in the chains and cuffs? His mind, his entire body rebelled at the idea of tying Dean up like an animal again. Yet a soft voice reminded him that he’d thought that very word, animal, when Dean had licked blood off him and looked at him with rage-filled yellow eyes.

Swallowing, he finished collecting the sheets and took them outside, propping the door of their room open. Both the motel laundry machines and janitorial closet were close by. He tossed the sheets into a machine and got it started, having no intention of doing anything else with it… just wanting to hide the blood. Using his knife, he easily broke into the supply closet and took out new sheets.

Once he got back to the room, he saw Dean hadn’t moved. He quickly made up the bed, not caring it was a sloppy job, just wanting the sheets on. He wasn’t gonna sleep, not now. Carefully lowering himself into the chair at the foot of Dean’s bed, he stuffed a pillow behind him, needing something soft that wouldn’t put pressure on his wounds. Just when he got comfortable, he noticed he’d left the light on.

A heavy sigh left him as he got up to turn the lamp off so it wouldn’t make Dean wake earlier or anything. He’d snapped it off when his brain caught up with what he thought he’d seen. Turning the light back on, he leaned over Dean, frowning. His brother’s chest was red and inflamed. Moving the amulet, he noticed the mark went across his chest at just the same level as the amulet.

It couldn’t be… Lifting Dean’s hand, he looked at his fingers… and sonova… the finger he had the silver ring on was red and inflamed. Hoping to hell Dean wouldn’t wake, he pulled the ring off, then used his knife to cut the leather cord around Dean’s neck. Tossing both pieces of jewelry onto the nightstands, he went back to the chair.

He eased himself down. It couldn’t be that simple. It couldn’t.

It was well into the afternoon when Dean woke up with a splitting headache, feeling like he had the worst mother fucking hangover of his life. His throat felt thick and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, he was so thirsty. His muscles ached like he’d pulled every single one of them and, as though he didn’t feel bad enough, he was covered with a cold sheen of sweat that made him shiver and feel all around disgusting.

At least the fever he had yesterday seemed to be gone… was it only yesterday? He had no idea even what day it was. Considering every day only brought him closer to the full moon, that bothered Dean a lot and finally convinced him it was worthwhile to move. Rolling over onto his back with a groan of discomfort, glad at least the heavy privacy drapes were drawn shut or else his eyes might have just exploded right in their sockets.

“Sammy?” Dean managed to croak out, lifting his head. Sensing the younger man was close by but at the same time too far away for his liking. Not that he really blamed his brother, the younger man probably just as grossed out as Dean felt with himself. Fuck, he needed a shower, bad.

He saw the younger man slumped in the chair at the foot of his bed, Sam’s too tall framed squished rather uncomfortably looking in it, and his eyes closed. Seemingly asleep, though the younger man had dark circles under his eyes from obvious exhaustion. Had Sam stayed up all night with him taking care of him? Guilt flashed through him at that thought and he considered just letting his brother continue sleeping, he obviously needed it, but he couldn’t let him keep sleeping like that in that damn uncomfortable chair. Sam was going to be stiff as it was, his brother should at least take one of the beds.

“Sam.” Dean said a little louder as he pushed himself up into a more or less sitting position.

It was better once morning light broke. Before that, during the night, every sound from the bed had Sam tensing. Every time he went to check on Dean and to put a compress on him, he moved cautiously, trying not to disturb, not to wake... afraid of a repeat performance.

By dawn, Dean felt cooler to his touch so some of Sam’s worries lifted from his shoulders. He texted the news to his father, afraid to speak out loud again. Then he sat heavily back in the chair and allowed himself to slip in and out of oblivion.

The sound of his name cracked like a whip and had him gripping the arms of the chair as he bolted straight and opened his eyes. “What? What?” He searched Dean’s face, relaxing slightly as he looked into familiar eyes that held no hint of yellow. He ran his tongue over his dry lips. “Hey.”

Sitting back, he gave a tired smile. “You’re back with the living.” Yeah, seeing Dean sitting up, he knew they’d beat it... beat that fever. “Probably should drink the rest of that water,” he jerked his chin toward the bottle on the nightstand. “And maybe this time you won’t threaten to shove it up my ass.”

He’d get up, yeah he would. As soon as he felt less stiff and could move without signs of his injuries. He knew Dean would bring it up, that he’d freak out about it. Sam would just have to convince him it wasn’t as bad as he remembered.

Dean was taken back when Sam woke with a start, practically jumping out of his skin, and his concern for the younger man only grew. If Sam had looked like shit when he’d been asleep, he looked even worse now that he was awake. His eyes red and his exhaustion even more apparent.

“Hey. You look like hell.” He pointed out unnecessarily with a frown of disapproval. As much as the elder man appreciated Sam taking care of him while he’d been sick, he was more than a little upset that his brother obviously hadn’t taken care of himself at the same time. Like he could really talk? How often had he run himself nearly ragged while taking care of his little brother when Sam had been ill? Nearly making himself sick in the process.

Though the tired smile Sam gave him worked well to disarm him, like always. Damn boy could always wrap him around his pinky too damn easily, and he sighed softly letting go of his annoyance. Returning his brother’s slight smile with one of his own though there was still more than a little bit of worry in his eyes. He nodded and reached towards the nightstand for the water Sam had indicated, chuckling softly in spite of himself at his brother’s comment.

It reminded him of the time Sam had made that exact same threat, though he’d been twelve at the time suffering from the flu and their Dad’s eyes had nearly bugged out of his head. His hand paused and his amusement vanished when his eyes fell on his ring and amulet laying on the nightstand. There was absolutely no reason for either to be there, but Dean didn’t have to wonder long about the reason. His attention drawn to his own hand that hovered over the nightstand and the angry red mark that went all the way around his finger where his ring usually was. It looked like a fucking burn. A quick glance down at his chest found a similar mark.

Silver was like poison to werewolves, especially if it pierced their skin. Was that why he’d gotten sick? That little bit of silver… and why he was better now because he wasn’t wearing the jewelry anymore? Because he was becoming more and more werewolf than man as they neared the full moon?

One glance at his brother and he could tell their thoughts were in the same place.

Fuck.

Forgetting about the water Dean pushed himself up the rest of the way to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hand tiredly over his face. Pleased that he’d been able to do so, though his head still hurt like a motherfucker.

“Why don’t you lay down and get some real sleep? I’m going to take a shower.” Dean suggested to his brother. He wasn’t a hundred percent yet, but it was obvious he didn’t need a caretaker anymore and Sam obviously needed the rest.

He could see the wheels turning in Dean’s head as his brother worked out the connection between his fever and the silver jewelry on the nightstand. When their eyes met, Dean’s seeking confirmation, Sam literally felt sick to his stomach. It hurt to see that flash of self-revulsion in Dean’s eyes. Hurt worse than any pain his brother could physically inflict.

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Get some sleep,” he agreed. “And you… drink that water. Don’t think I didn’t see,” he gave another weary smile. They exchanged a few more words, and then Dean finally left for the bathroom. The lack of any real swagger in his step, and the way he caught the edge of the table as he opened the door told Sam his brother was still weak. Maybe if he got some food in his system, that would help.

Once the door closed, Sam put his hands on the arms of the chair and pushed up slowly. The skin on his back felt like it was pulling where his injuries were. Trying to loosen his neck and back, he did a few stretching exercises but gave up when he thought he might open up a wound.

Walking to his dad’s freshly made bed, he popped a couple of Tylenol and flushed it down with Dean’s water, before slowly lowering onto the mattress and gingerly laying on his side. His gaze focused on Dean’s amulet an ring. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen them off his brother. Just another fucking reminder of all the changes.

Hurry up dad. Find it, find the cure. God, if they ever needed a miracle, it was now. For all his sureness about being able to handle Dean, no matter what, last night had introduced a shred of doubt in his mind. It didn’t change anything. They’d have to deal with it, he’d have to find a way… and maybe he had found a way. All he had to do was agree with everything Dean said. Great. A ‘yes man’ he wasn’t.

He thought his mind would never quiet down, but soon, his eyes closed and he fell into a deep, sleep.

Dean didn’t take a very long shower. Even as amazing as the hot water felt he still felt exhausted and a bit unsteady on his feet, another indication of just how bad off he must have been. But the hot water did at least ease some of the ache in his muscles and even helped clear his head a bit, making it easier to think, though it still throbbed like he had a fucking hangover. Maybe he’d take a few painkillers before he went back to bed to sleep off the rest of the effects of the fever.

Couldn’t hurt… as long as he didn’t swallow any silver.

Dean made a face at that thought and sighed heavily. He just couldn’t fucking believe it. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. Yes, of course he knew that silver was a sure way to kill a werewolf but… fuck…

He didn’t know if it would have been “easier” if it had started affecting him right away, right after he’d been bitten, rather than now. Later. A clear indication of how he was changing, little by little, every single day. Becoming more… like them… less human. He couldn’t help but think, why now? Had it just been slowly building up in his system all this time? Killing him slowly… or had it been triggered when he’d shifted briefly that morning. The same day he’d begun to feel ill, the day his fingernails had turned to claws and drawn his own blood…

Dean leaned his forehead against the warm tile wall. Trying not to think about it and at the same time completely unable to think about anything else. What did Sam think about all of this? His brother had obviously figured out the connection between the silver he’d been wearing and his sickness. He wondered if Sam hadn’t figured it out if he would have been dead by now.

Sam had saved his life… again… but Dean couldn’t help thinking how Sam hadn’t been near him when he’d woken. His brother, his lover, had been sitting in a chair far away from him rather than laying next to him. Was Sam disgusted with him now? Now that he could see for himself, so clearly, what a freak he was becoming…

Maybe he was thinking too much. Reading too much into it. He was tired, and he was hurting in more ways than one. He just needed to sleep. No, what he really needed was Sam and sleep.

He wished his brother could have joined him in the shower, that would have made it much more enjoyable even if they did nothing but hold each other, but his brother obviously needed to rest more. Dean was worried about Sam and he just couldn’t shake the feeling. So he finally turned off the water and dried himself off quickly with one of the motel towels.

Leaving it on the floor of the bathroom, not even bothering to cover himself, as he made his way back into the main room to find Sam asleep on the other bed. Not much of a surprise there since Dean had probably sweat all over the other one in his fevered state, no wonder Sam hadn’t wanted to sleep next to him.

Without hesitation Dean crawled into the bed with his brother, spooning up against the younger man’s back and wrapping his arm securely around Sam’s waist.

As deep in sleep as he had been, the sharp pain woke Sam with a sudden jerk that only made it worse. “Dean?!” Arching slightly away, Sam froze, taking a few calming breaths. Dean was just holding him, that was all. He wasn’t trapping him, and he didn’t realize his back hurt. Slowly, Sam managed to fight the panicked feeling that had swamped him.

Putting his hand over Dean’s wrist, he pulled, forcing his brother to loosen his tight grip and allow him to scoot away slightly. “You feeling any better?” He let out a breath. “Did you want to eat, or something? I can get something for you.” Slowly, he pushed himself up, only able to turn once he was sitting.

Then he saw Dean was naked and shook his head. “Dude, you could have put on some shorts or something.” What was it, thirty six hours or so, when they’d been going at it like there was no tomorrow? Heat stained Sam’s cheeks and he cleared his throat. Looking up, he met Dean’s eyes and saw something in their depths. “What?”

The way Sam jerked so suddenly in his arms just as Dean was setting down, yelling his name like he was fucking panicked, Dean’s first instinct was to reach for a weapon to protect his brother from whatever the hell evil thing had scared the younger man. Too bad that evil thing was him, and his brother’s voice wasn’t just startled, it was pained.

The elder man was frozen in absolute confusion as he stared at his brother, feeling the younger man’s heart pounding underneath his hand like it was ready to explode. What the hell was going on? He felt Sam pulling at his wrist, and only then did he realize just how tightly he’d been holding his brother, and he forced himself to let go even though that was the last thing he wanted to do. Watching as Sam sat up, very carefully, moving stiffly, like he was a fucking old man.

He knew Sam was talking, asking him something, his tone casual now but even that didn’t hide the underlying strain he could still hear in the younger man’s voice. The same he’d heard before but chalked up to mere exhaustion before. Dean didn’t really hear anything that Sam was saying however because he became aware of something else too… the smell of blood.

Sam’s blood. Sam was hurt. When? How?

Dean didn’t answer the younger man’s question, he merely leaned closer, sniffing. He smelled dried blood in his brother’s hair, but that’s not where it was the strongest. Not where it was fresh. It didn’t take long for him to figure out the source. Not giving Sam a chance to protest, Dean lifted up the back of the younger man’s shirt, his eyes widening when he saw the bandages on the younger man’s back. Obviously put on by Sam himself considering the crappy job. They were stained with blood, and not a little bit.

“What the fuck happened?” Dean demanded as he looked at his brother, his stomach already twisting, having a pretty good guess, even before Sam said a word.

The strange silence between them bothered Sam. He was about to ask again if he should get food when Dean suddenly moved closer. For a second, Sam thought Dean was gonna pull him close for a kiss, and was prepared to make sure his brother’s hands stayed off his back if they kissed.

His lips parted slightly but before he was able to meet Dean half way, his brother pulled back and tugged his shirt suddenly. “God damn it, don’t... Dean,” he tried to push Dean’s hand away but it was too late. Far too late. His back was exposed and Dean ...

Meeting Dean’s gaze, Sam’s heart lurched. He didn’t need this, he didn’t need Dean on the verge of a freak out, because he knew only too well where that lead. It was clear that Dean remembered none of it. Somehow Sam had thought he’d remember snatches or something, but right now shock was etched too deeply in Dean’s face for that to be true.

“Mountain lion.” Sam gave a shrug, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. The urge to lie, to really lie, not to try to pass of a joke, was real strong. But one look at the injury and Dean would know the truth. He sighed and put his hand out, resting it on Dean’s shoulder.

“It’s not that bad, Dean. Just... you had a fever, and a delusion.” He was just guessing there, but what else could it be? He was sure Dean hadn’t changed. “I made a mistake,” he nodded, afraid, so fucking afraid Dean was going to take this hard. “It was me... I tried to fight you, to tell you what to do. Then I figured you out.” He squeezed Dean’s shoulder, “All I had to say was you’re hurting me. That was it, it calmed your ass down. You listening? It’s all I had to say, and now I know.”

Dean’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached, pushing himself away from Sam roughly. Away from that understanding hand on his shoulder. He stood, backing away from the bed. His hands clenched into fists at his side as though he were afraid he might actually sprout claws, this very second. Fucking claws. Tear open his brother’s flesh… again.

Fuck, he had done this. He had done this.

“Now you know what, Sam?” Dean snapped, surprised by just how calm his voice sounded right now. Especially since he felt anything but calm. “Now you know I’m capable of hurting you when I’m out of fucking control? What?”

He’d hurt Sam. He’d lost control… he’d turned… Sam had tried to fight him, and he had hurt Sam. That’s it… no more…

Shaking his head, Dean turned and went over to his duffel. Grabbing some clothes out of it and started getting dressed. Throwing on a pair of shorts and jeans, just enough to keep from flashing the neighbors. Then he went and grabbed the keys to the impala.

Every word from Dean’s mouth made Sam wince. They cut him as surely as they cut Dean. Forget about this werewolf thing, he knew that growing up Dean had been all about protecting him. From monsters, from truth, from pain, from danger and even from their father. Yeah they sometimes got into fights. Yeah they’d drawn each others’ blood before, but this was different. Dean hadn’t been in control and he could have easily gone too far. So here they were, with Dean thinking he could have killed and might still, the person he was used to sheltering. This went directly against everything that made Dean tick, and Sam knew exactly how his brother was feeling.

Eyes wide, he watched as Dean stalked around pulling clothes on. But when he grabbed his keys, Sam panicked.

He scrambled off the bed, biting down on the groan of pain and moving faster than he thought he could. He reached the door, tuned his back to it and bodily blocked Dean’s way. His eyes flashed with a mix of tears and anger. “I’m not afraid of that... of it happening again, I know how to handle THAT. It’s this... you like this, you’re scaring the crap out of me Dean. THIS is hurting me more than that ever could.”

He licked his lips and tensed, ready to take Dean down if his brother tried to leave. “You promised me. Just like I promised you, you promised me.” He wasn't gonna put his fears into words, it wasn't necessary... and it would make them even more real.

Dean’s eyes widened a little when Sam blocked the motel room door with his own body. Trying to keep him from leaving the room even though they both knew right now Dean was much stronger. He could literally just throw his brother out of the way with hardly any effort, when before they’d been evenly matched. Hell, Sam might have even had a slight advantage over him before, being a few inches taller than him for years now. Not anymore. Now that Dean was a monster. Now that he had werewolf venom pumping through his veins adding supernatural strength to every muscle in his body.

But if he tried to force Sam to move, the younger man might fight him and he might accidentally hurt his brother. He would never consciously risk doing that. Sam was counting on that, his brother knew him too well. Knew what lengths Dean would go to protect him. Which was why this time, it wasn’t going to stop him. If Sam wouldn’t move on his own…

Dean stalked up to the younger man, standing in front of him so close they were nearly chest to chest. His eyes narrowed in warning.

“I promised you I wouldn’t try to blow a hole in my head again. I didn’t promise you I was going to let myself hurt you. Get out of the way.” When Sam, predictably, didn’t Dean grabbed him, turned, and shoved him towards the bed. So if Sam fell at least he’d fall on a soft surface.

Dean didn’t waste time then opening the door and going to the car, unlocking the trunk and lifting up the false bottom where all the supplies were. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. He grabbed the handcuffs, and a set of shackles they’d never had to use until now.

As they stood in front of each other, Sam refused to be intimidated. Even though the wildness in Dean, his strength last night was fresh in his mind, he couldn’t afford to let it. Too much hung on this. He wasn’t gonna lose his brother. He hadn’t fought this hard for nothing. “Dean, please.”

As his pleas fell on deaf ears and his brother started splitting hairs on what he’d promised, Sam tensed. His nostrils flared as he cocked his head to the side when Dean told him to get out of the way. He wouldn’t—

Then Dean did. Sam might have expected a struggle, a fight... but instead he was pushed aside like a mere nuisance. As he staggered backwards, almost falling, Dean shot out that door.

The sudden movement had Sam wrenching his back. He felt wetness seeping through his bandaging, dammit. Grabbing an over shirt, he shrugged it on as fast as he could and chased after Dean, racing to the lot just across the walkway.

His heart pounded with fear at the thought Dean was already gone. Yeah, he’d stashed all the silver bullets, but Dean could easily make more. “Dean!” Running faster, he arrived at the Impala just as Dean was slamming the trunk, “Dean!” he shouted again, starting to reach out and grab his brother, “I can’t do this again, I just... what’s that...”

Taking a step back, he swallowed, still prepared to try to tackle Dean or stand in front of his car... to do whatever it took, if necessary. His gaze snapped to Dean’s as he let out a couple of heavy breaths. “You wanna put me out of my misery already? What’s going on?” he spread his hands.

As Dean slammed the trunk closed and turned he practically ran into Sam. His lips flattening into a thin line as his brother grabbed him. As though that could actually restrain him, hadn’t they already established fighting against him was absolutely fucking useless? All Sam was risking was getting himself hurt again, and it only reaffirmed that this was what he had to do.

But then Sam was releasing him on his own. Stepping back. Looking at the chains Dean held in his hand and the elder man followed his gaze briefly before looking back to Sam’s eyes when his brother demanded to know what was going on.

It had crossed his mind, for more than a few seconds, to simply get in the car and drive away. Dump it somewhere not far away so his brother would find it fairly easily and steal another. Driving as far as the gas tank would take him before switching cars and doing the same, again, and again, and again. Until there was absolutely no way his brother would be able to trace him.

Hell, it had taken six fucking months for his father to track down the werewolves that had taken him. There was no reason why Dean couldn’t disappear, maybe forever. To chain himself up to a few trees in the middle of fucking nowhere and let himself rot. Far away from his father, his brother, any other innocent people. Hell, maybe even one day a hunter would come along at random and put him out of his misery for good.

But maybe a very small part of him still hoped that his father would find the answer. Find the cure… if there was one. A part of him, even after everything, was still unwilling to leave Sam. But he wasn’t going to put his brother in danger anymore. It was obvious he couldn’t be trusted. Not for a second. He was worse than a wild animal, because at least a wild animal was wild all the time. A wild animal never hesitated in attacking. That was better than never knowing when he would attack.

“What does it look like, Sam?” Dean asked, half annoyed half resigned as he pushed past the younger man again, heading back into their motel room with the chains. Looking around the room he tried to figure out where to do this. There weren’t exactly a lot of things in the room that could secure a werewolf.

Getting an idea he brought the chains into the bathroom and started to wind the heavy chains around the base of the toilet. Feeling a little stupid doing so but he couldn’t think of anything else. Besides, at least this way he won’t have to be unchained for any reason and he could always sleep in the tub he supposed.

Sam cursed under his breath and followed Dean back, then stood filling the doorway to the bathroom as he watched Dean moving around. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to give me an answer once in a while. Dean.”

He made a face and took a step toward his agitated brother, clamped his hand on his shoulder. “Dean, stop, look at me. What are you doing? First you scare the hell out of me, and now...” he gestured toward the chains on the ground. “You’re not thinking straight. Can we talk about this.” He tried to bend farther and made a sound of pain, immediately straightening.

“Dammit, listen. When it’s time, Dean, when it’s time, its not gonna be in some bathroom like some animal.” He remembered how freaked Dean had been that one time he’d left him cuffed to the bed, this had to be killing his brother. “Godsakes ... “ He got down on his knees again, and put his hand on the side of Dean’s face, making him look at him. “I’ll tell you when it’s time, I’ll know. I’ll find the beams in the walls in the room, and secure the chains to it. When we need them, they’ll be there, alright?”

He brushed his mouth over Dean’s, kissing him lightly. “Trust me. Please... don’t be like dad. Don’t think I’m just some chump... I’m not. I’m really not, and I’m not soft like you think. I will put those chains on you myself when you need them, but not now... and not like this.”

Dean ignored his brother’s hovering in the bathroom doorway while he worked. He ignored the younger man’s hand on his shoulder while he secured the chains tightly in a way that would give him enough room to move around a bit but not to get close to the door and definitely not to leave the room. He ignored his brother’s comment that he wasn’t thinking straight when he checked the shackles that would fit around his ankles, attached to the chains, determining that they would indeed hold him. He ground his teeth to keep from snapping back at Sam when his brother said he wasn’t thinking straight.

This was maybe the first thing he’d done that was smart since this whole damned thing started.

His eyes flickered briefly to Sam’s face when he heard the small groan of pain that had involuntarily escaped from his brother. Pain crossing Dean’s own face to match it before he turned back to his task. What the hell was there to talk about? Not a damned thing. He wasn’t going to let… that… happen again. No matter what, and the only way that was ensured was if he was restrained. If he couldn’t reach Sam then he couldn’t hurt Sam. Plain and simple.

A small growl escaped his lips when his brother forced him to look at him. The small sound making him wince all over again, his stomach twisting so violently he thought he might just vomit. The only thing that stopped him from immediately pulling away from the younger man. Even when Sam leaned in too close. Close enough to kiss him. That’s when Dean pulled away, like he had been burned, and looked away from the younger man.

“God damn it, Sam. I am a god damned animal! What is it going to take? When is it going to be time? When I hurt you enough that you need stitches? When I break a few bones? When I put you in the hospital? When I try to rip out your throat? When?”

Dean closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.

“I’m not ‘being like dad’. I know you’re not soft, and you know I’m not a damned idiot. I can make my own choices. I’m not just doing this for you, I’m doing it for me. Selfishly. I need to know you’ll be safe. So it’s either this or I walk out that door and don’t come back.” Dean whispered softly then picked up one of the shackles and locked it securely around his ankle.

Sam winced each time Dean raised his voice, each time he voiced his fears. He ran his hand over his brow as his brother ranted and demanded to know when the time would come to chain him.

The threat to walk out that door didn’t sit at all well with Sam. He practically bristled at the fact his brother knew his weak point and was using it so callously against him. He gave Dean a look that said as much, then backed up to the opposite wall.

“Right, you have choices. You could be tied at the bed or here. Good choice, Dean. I’d pick the cold floor too,” he nodded, “perfect real estate here and not only can you use the head whenever you need, you get to watch me... and dad when he gets back.” He threw that in for good measure.

Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground and sat. “Yeah, it’s much nicer staring at me or the wall, or listening to that faucet drip... much better than the t.v. you could be watching inside. At least there’s a nice echo in here.”

Leaning his head against the wall, he silently watched Dean, knowing he was getting him pissed off but unable to help himself. He got where Dean was coming form, but that didn’t mean this wasn’t idiotic.

“Eating. That should be real pleasant in here. You really know how to pick winners when it comes to atmosphere, no wonder the girls all step over each other for a date with you.” This time, a laugh escaped him, though he tried to prevent it. Crossing his arms over the tops of his knees, he leaned his chin on them and looked expectantly at his brother.

Dean’s jaw was beginning to ache quite a bit by now, he was clenching it so tight. Holding his tongue wasn’t really something he was all that good at. Not talking about something, avoiding an issue, that was easy. Sitting there letting his brother verbally lash him, letting his brother basically call him an idiot and doing nothing to defend himself, saying nothing in return? That was something else. But he tried to tell himself he deserved it. He had fucking slashed open his brother’s back with his claws for god sake! That reminder was enough to keep him from going off on his brother, saying something he might regret later to Sam, who stood there mocking him so casually.

He ignored the younger man’s comments about him watching him use the toilet, because Sam was just being spiteful. Especially when he mentioned dad too. Bastard. Sam knew damn well he wasn’t that kind of fucking pervert. If it was an issue he could sit in the tub with the curtain closed while his brother used the toilet, what the hell difference was it from standing next to a total stranger and using a urinal in a public restroom? If Sam couldn’t handle it, fine, he could get another room. That might not be a bad idea anyway. Then Sam wouldn’t have to come near him ever, not even for “necessities”.

“I’ve had worse.” Dean stated flatly as he finished locking the shackles around his ankles and picked up the handcuffs. Glaring at his brother angrily as he purposefully snapped them around his own wrists. Sam wanted to laugh at him, fine. Sam wanted to punish him, fine. He could take it. He had endured far worse conditions over the last six months. Maybe Sam had forgotten that. The one thing he couldn’t take, though, was “waking up” again, from a fever, bad dream, whatever, and finding out he’d hurt his brother again.

Scooting back to lean against the wall Dean pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his arms on them, turning his face away from his brother. Because right now he’d honestly rather stare at the wall.

They sat like that for quite a while, their positions mirroring each others’, except that Sam was looking at Dean, and his brother was refusing to look back at him. Sam sighed and closed his eyes for a while. Tried to rest, but how the hell could anyone rest like this. The silence was pissing him off too. He hated getting the silent treatment, hated it with a passion.

“I was kidding.” He used his foot to knock his brother’s leg and get his attention. That got him nowhere. “You’re not a danger to me Dean,” he said quietly, pulling up to his feet when Dean still wouldn’t talk to him. Taking a breath, he stepped over his brother, and walked into the room.

Where had Dean put the damned keys? Seeing they’d been tossed next to the broken phone, Sam took them and walked out the door.

The silence was choking. Sam’s soft words only making it seem all the more intense. Dean didn’t look at his brother, didn’t make a sound, didn’t move. He had to resist his first instinct to roll his eyes and sigh.

Kidding. Sure.

It seemed more often than not when Sam was “kidding” was when he really told the truth. Sarcasm the younger man’s way of telling him what he really thought, what he really felt... He used to be able to read his brother like an open book. He used to know Sam better than he knew himself. He had to keep reminding himself that before the last couple of weeks they hadn’t seen each other in years. Sam was different now.

So was he, and he was only going to get more different every single day. More dangerous. Sure, he wasn’t a danger. That’s why his brother’s back was shredded open like tissue paper. It had started with bruises. Did Sam really think he’d forgotten about the diner? Sam’s wrist? The tree outside the bar? How much he had hurt Sam the first time they’d…

Now, he was starting to shift. Starting to turn. At least twice he had sprouted fucking claws, and it wasn’t even the full moon yet. He was like them, like that mother fucker Daniel, like her, the ones that could change at will. Sam wasn’t safe from him. His brother would never be safe from him again.

Dean didn’t watch his brother go, though when the younger man finally left the bathroom he moved for the first time in what seemed like hours. Closing his eyes and pulling his knees up tighter, resting his forehead down on them. He heard the outer door of the motel room open and close, and a choked sound escaped his throat before he could stop it.

Sam tried to swallow down the feelings churning inside him, but it was impossible. It always affected him when Dean shut down like he had. And even more now that they had this… this crazy relationship going between them. Maybe it made him expect Dean to share more, to act different… something. But the silent treatments really hurt.

He slammed the door of the Impala shut harder than necessary. Maybe he hoped Dean heard and was pissed or worried about his precious car. That he'd probably want to talk about and discuss to no end. Starting the car, he backed out and pulled out of the lot faster than safe.

His first stop was a hardware store. By the time he was checking out with everything he needed, and had counted out his money, he realized they'd need to do something about their cash situation. He hadn't stolen in years. The thought of going back to that was unsettling. He'd always much preferred hustling to stealing but the latter was quicker.

Tossing his purchases into the car, he saw a drug store across the street. Maybe he should go get some… not that he was even sure there would be any more sex, the way Dean was acting as if it was all over. Sighing, he did cross the street. Dammit, he'd kind of hoped Dean would take care of getting the lube.

By the time he walked out, he was carrying other things he didn't really need. It had just been a way of 'burying' the lube in a bunch of stuff, but it hadn't prevented his cheeks from burning as he paid. On his drive back, his mind wandered to thoughts of having sex. The night that Dean had fallen into that fever, it had been so good between them. Just thinking about that and recalling the image of Dean with his legs chained threatened to get him hard. Dammit. Now he was turning into Dean with his one track mind.

By the time he got back to the motel, a couple hours had passed. He had picked up food and beer, so when he pulled out of the car, he had a lot of packages. When he pushed the door of their room open, he listened to the sound of utter silence, and sighed out loud.

The lights were out. It had been daylight when he'd left, now he realized Dean had been left in the dark. He didn't know whether Dean could reach the light switch or not.

Crossing the room, he looked in and hit the light switch. "Got you something, if you're hungry." He dropped the bag holding a small bowl of soup and a pastrami sandwich with fries next to Dean, giving him a choice as to whether he felt well enough to have the sandwich or not.

Dean hadn’t moved from the position he’d been in since Sam left.

Surprisingly, he’d fallen asleep at some point. Probably from sheer exhaustion, having just recovered from such a serious fever, though he certainly felt all right now. More than all right, he felt pretty damn good, which only made his mood darken even more if it were possible. If he were human there was no way he’d have recovered as fast as he had. But he wasn’t human anymore… and the little things that kept reminding him of that were starting to really get to him.

Little things? Fuck, how about the big things? Like growing claws and attacking his brother? Those were pretty damn big things.

Dean sighed heavily, sitting back against the wall, stretching a little, but he didn’t bother to get up. He realized what had woken him when he heard the familiar sound of the Impala’s door shut. Sam was back. Was he surprised? He almost was. Not that he really thought his brother would run off and leave him chained up in a bathroom and not ever come back. But considering how pissed his brother had been, he was more surprised Sam was back so soon.

He listened to the younger man moving around in the other room when he came in. Tensing a little when he heard Sam approach the bathroom, not sure what to expect. He couldn’t stop from wincing and blinking rapidly to clear his vision when the sudden burst of light nearly blinded him for a second. Dean looked up at his brother with an uncertain expression when Sam dropped the paper bag down next to him.

“Thanks.” He replied softly, his stomach already rumbling a little from the smell of the French fries alone. Despite recalling his brother’s little jab about pleasant eating atmosphere as he reached for the bag, he didn’t hesitate digging in.

Guess they were still not talking. Heart sinking lower, Sam walked back inside the bedroom and setting aside his food, took out the power drill and other equipment he’d gotten from he hardware store.

Then he flipped on the television and put the volume up as high as it would go. Getting on Dean’s bed, on his knees, he used a stud finder to find the beam behind the wall board. Drilling into it, not too high above the mattress, Sam used toggle bolts that could withstand hundreds of pounds of pressure, to secure metal rungs to the wall. He’d threaded hand cuffs through them, ones his dad had left behind and which were

Picking up the remote, he lowered the volume of the t.v. and set it on the nightstand. It had been irritating to him, he could only imagine how much Dean had loved it. And that pissed him off too... the fact he hadn’t yelled at him to shut it off or something.

His last task was to set up cuffs that attached to the footboard. They wouldn’t be as secure as the ones in the wall beam, but in conjunction with each other, should more than adequately hold a werewolf. Or a stubborn ass of a brother.

Looking around the ground, Sam found the key Dean had tossed earlier, the one that secured him to the toilet. He picked it up, walked to the door and looked in. At least Dean was acting normal in that he was almost done stuffing his face, and his cheeks were puffed out with too big a bite of food. Saying nothing, he dropped the key down next to his brother and went back in.

He’d done what he could. If Dean wanted to be a stubborn ass, then there was nothing else he could do. Settling down on dad’s bed, he opened up his now cold sandwich, and started to eat with the remote in his other hand, looking for something to watch since he was getting the silent treatment.

What the fuck is he doing? Dean wondered, frowning and tossing a glare towards the open bathroom door when Sam turned the television on all the way up to the max. But he couldn’t see his brother from this angle and couldn’t hear anything over the noise of the TV to tell him what his brother was doing, other than being an asshole.

So Dean ignored it, to the best of his abilities, even though the volume with his much more sensitive hearing was giving him a terrible headache. Couldn’t the bastard at least have found something good on to watch rather than some fucking infomercial?

After some time, the volume on the TV finally lowered and Dean couldn’t help but smirk to himself. The fact that Sam’s efforts to annoy him had probably annoyed his brother just as much.

Dean continued stuffing his face in the relative peace, surprised just how hungry he was, though he probably shouldn’t be considering how sick he’d been he probably hadn’t had any food and barely any water for at least a day. He looked up when he heard his brother at the door, and frowned when Sam said nothing, just tossing something to him, before leaving again. Dean looked down at the key the other man had thrown down on the tile next to him and his frown only deepened.

Damn stubborn asshole.

Dean ignored it. For now. Next time Sam stuck his head in if he didn’t take it back he might just bean the younger man in the head with it, or flush it down the toilet. See how Sam liked that. He was doing this to keep his brother safe, why was it so difficult for Sam to understand that? He didn’t want there to be any reason for him to be unchained, so he couldn’t take Sam by surprise, so he couldn’t hurt him again… Dean just knew that was the reason it had happened, because Sam was too damn trusting. Sam couldn’t trust him. If Sam wasn’t going to treat him like the dangerous animal he was, then this was the only way.

An hour passed, and there was no movement from the bathroom. Dean was apparently prepared to sacrifice his comfort, to martyr himself. Everything he’d said, which really was a handful of sentences, replayed in Sam’s mind over and over.

So Dean thought he couldn’t handle him. One injury and that painted him as some chump who wouldn’t do whatever was necessary to keep Dean under control. And he gave no credit at all to his discovery that submission worked. Fine, whatever. He glared toward the bathroom, and channel surfed some more, intentionally landing on channels that would bug his brother. Maybe if he wanted control of the remote, he might just use that damned key.

Another half hour passed, and still nothing. Not even a word was exchanged between them. Biting back a curse, Sam pulled to his feet and walked out of the room without saying anything. He drank a coffee in the diner next door, withstanding the waitress’ jokes about him being broody. If you had Dean as your brother, you’d be damned broody too, he wanted to yell, instead of giving her the good natured smile that he did.

When he was done, he headed back to the room, cutting a small gash in his arm ten feet before he reached the door. He stumbled, grunting as his head hit the door. Clumsily, he fiddled with the key, and finally opening the door, slammed it shut.

An almost inaudible groan broke out of him as he all but fell onto the chair directly in front of Dean’s bed. “Fuck… ahh…” he swallowed hard and took deep breaths, refusing to answer any questions put to him by Dean.

Dean finished eating, tossed his trash in the waste basket, and sighed softly as he leaned back against the wall. Listening for a long time to the sounds coming from the other room, wondering if maybe he should have hid the remote before locking himself in here, considering the shows his brother liked to watch and he would now be forced to listen to. But if Sam wanted to act childish about this, what could he really do? Fuck, it was usually him being the immature one and Sam acting all “responsible”. He wasn’t really liking this role reversal, not one bit.

He wished he could talk to Dad. Tell him what had happened. He was certain that their father would agree with him that this wasn’t an unnecessary precaution, or whatever Sam believed, and maybe that would get his brother off his back.

Did Sam really think he wanted to be chained up like this? Hell no, but he was still willing to do it because it needed to be done. If he couldn’t even be trusted to follow the cycle of a normal fledgling werewolf, that were usually only dangerous during the phases of the full moon. Dean could only guess that he was “different” like a few of the older werewolves he’d seen during his months of captivity, was because Cassandra herself was so old. Powerful. When she bit him, some of that must have been transferred to him too.

Just his fucking luck.

So if he couldn’t be trusted not to turn at any fucking time, how could Sam trust him at all? Dean wasn’t willing to take that risk. Not with Sam. If his brother wanted to throw a tantrum like a five year old girl about it, well, he didn’t have much choice but to sit here and endure it, did he? Or maybe he would use the key, unlock the chains when Sam was asleep and slip out. Get as far away from his brother as he could… maybe he’d check in every once in a while, see if their dad or Sam found anything else regarding a possible cure, and if not…

Hearing the television click off and the door to their room open and close brought Dean out of his thoughts and he couldn’t help but frown towards the doorway again. Just where the fuck was Sam off to this time? Couldn’t he at least tell him where he was going? Why did his brother have to be such an annoying prick sometimes! Sure, Dean knew it was probably part of the annoying little brother’s handbook, but still!

Dean waited, more than half tempted to unlock himself just to go hunt his brother down and beat his ass, growing more agitated the longer Sam was gone. Sighing with no small amount of relief when he heard the door open again, until he caught the scent of fresh blood, heard his brother stumble, his soft groan and curse of pain.

“Sam?” He asked worriedly, his heart beginning to beat harder and faster in his chest when there was no response. “Sam! Answer me. Damn it, this isn’t funny!” Still no answer, and Dean began to panic. Grabbing the key his brother had left on the floor, immediately grateful that he hadn’t flushed it like he’d considered before, he unlocked the chains as fast as he could. Stood and rushed out to the other room. Seeing Sam slumped unmoving in the chair by the bed, he was by the younger man’s side in an instant. About as close to freaking out as he ever was, as he tried to check the other man for injuries.

“Sam, what happened? Sam…”

Perfect.

“God... Dean, help me up,” he said as if he was forcing the words out. He put his arm on Dean’s shoulder, the one dripping with blood and sure to hold his brother’s attention as he forced Dean to bear most of his weight. “Thought I could...”

A few steps, and they were close to the bed. He could practically hear his brother’s heart slamming against his chest, his face worried and angry. Yeah... he’d feel guilty about this, later. “You know... handle...”

Just as Dean’s knees hit the mattress, Sam brushed his mouth over his brothers. “Sorry ...” he whispered, his hand snaking out like a whipcord to grab a length of chain he’d left on the bed, and simultaneously shoving Dean back, using his weight to force Dean to fall.

His brother wasn’t going down easy, not that he’d expected him to. As his brother’s hands reached for him, Sam wrapped the length of chain around Dean’s throat and shoulder, using it to force him all the way down to the bed.. “God you look hot, Dean. Fuck, I gotta tap that,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing Dean again. Keeping Dean confused as to what the hell was going on was his best chance of getting this down without setting Dean off.

As they kissed, he managed to get the cuff at the end of the chain around one of Dean’s wrists. Having secured one of his brother’s arms, he was able to pull the chain away from his throat, though he kept the weight of his body on top of Dean, straddling his hips as he sat up and secured his other wrist.

With the chain loose as it was, Dean’s hands were free to move. Sam changed that in a minute. Leaning forward to the wall, he tugged on the main chain that fed to the ones attached to the cuffs. The instant he pulled on it, Dean’s wrists were pulled up over his head and against the wall. Sam twisted the chain around a hook, and sat back, grinning slightly. “What’s your safe word, Dean, he whispered, inching his brother’s shirt up and grinding himself down on him. Maybe if he made this about sex, there wouldn’t be a fight.

As the elder man worriedly tried to check his brother’s wounded arm that was bleeding, waiting for Sam to tell him what the fuck had happened, the last thing Dean had been expecting was to have Sam suddenly in his arms. He supported his brother’s weight when the younger man suddenly stood up easily enough, but he definitely didn’t think Sam should be standing up at all right now, considering all the weight the younger man was putting on him.

He tried to push Sam back down into the chair, even as his brother’s broken words confused the hell out of him. Handle? Handle what?

“Sammy, it’s ok. Sit down. Just lemme look…” Dean tried to reason with his distressed brother when he felt his knees bump into the edge of the bed, and before he could think too much on how exactly he’d gotten here, Sam was kissing him. Dean startled a little in shock, but didn’t kiss his brother back. Too worried at the moment, was the other man delirious? Had he lost that much blood or was in that much pain?

Before he could push his brother away however Sam was pushing him, shoving him was more like it, and bearing him down with more strength than he thought the younger man could have possessed right now. Dean worried about fighting back, not wanting to injure his brother further, but he had to check that arm, stop the bleeding, find out what the hell had happened.

He tried to grab his brother, hold him still, but the chain that was suddenly wrapped around his throat, almost choking him, kicked his survival instinct suddenly into overdrive and he struggled harder in spite of himself.

“Sam, stop…” He tried to reason, even as Sam’s words, not to mention the tongue his brother suddenly shoved into his mouth, shocked him so much for a moment he froze in place. What the fuck!? Had Sam lost his mind?! That moment of indecision cost him dearly.

As Sam pinned him in place with the full weight of his body, Dean felt the cold metal cuffs click around his wrists, and then his arms were suddenly forcefully yanked above his head. He stared at the younger man for a moment, anger, fear, worry, and confusion all warring together for a moment before Sam sat back on him, looking all too smug, and understanding finally dawned. Sam wasn’t hurt. Sam had been fucking playing him. Fear melted away and fury rose up quick and hot inside him then.

“You fucking bastard! Get the fuck off me!” Dean practically snarled as he yanked hard on the chains holding his wrists but they didn’t budge, not even an inch. “Let me up!” He ordered, though to be honest maybe it would be a good idea if Sam didn’t because he was seriously considering strangling the younger man for this little stunt.

Sam just ran his hands up and down Dean’s abs and chest, not reacting to his brother’s temper tantrum. “Uh uh, not until you calm down. I know you think I’m stupid... I’m not.”

He met Dean’s furious gaze and held it. “And that I’m weak... I’m not, really, I’m not. But I’m tired of explaining that to you. You want to remember your little kid brother who didn’t quite have the right edge... fine, do it. But you’re just closing your eyes and mind to what’s in front of you now, fooling yourself..”

Bending forward, he licked a trail up Dean’s stomach, lifting his face up when he felt Dean tense and thought he might uses his legs to capture or roll him. “Uh uh, use your legs as a weapon, and I will fucking tie them down too. The cuffs are ready. Or you might manage to hurt me again.” Yeah, he hit below the belt. It worked with the wolf... it sure as hell had to work with his brother.

“One more thing. You cool off... get in a little better anger management, and you can come with me tonight. We’re almost out of money and we’re gonna need to hustle or steal. “I can do it with you or without you. But if you’re in this mood, you will get what you wanted... stuck in the room.”

He licked his lips. “Look, I know you’re mad I tricked you. I’m sorry about that, about the way I did it. I know you care about me. I know hurting me is your worst nightmare. I know all this and a lot more, Dean. And I know where your buttons are, and when necessary, I will push every one of them. Physical, mental, emotional... whatever it takes, but I will keep you from doing anything you don’t want, I swear I will.”

Suddenly he realized his hand had crept down over Dean’s fly. Yeah, he’d been kidding about the chains... but now that he had his brother under him, helpless and tied up, all sorts of heat was flooding through his system. Which was all sorts of wrong... he knew that. His mind knew it. But his brain didn’t. His hardening cock was paying no attention. And his heart was beating so damn fast you’d think they were having sex.

It was distracting, to say the least, when Sam’s hands began sliding up under his shirt. His palms rubbing firmly over his stomach making his muscles flutter and clench beneath them. His fingers grazing over his nipples, making his breath and heart rate speed up for an entirely different reason than before. It made it hard for Dean to focus on being angry at what Sam had done to get him here when he was beginning to enjoy being here. The younger man’s touch, the way his brother was grinding his ass against his crotch, making it hard to think at all beyond his growing arousal. The heat of lust trying to replace the heat of anger in his eyes despite his best efforts to ignore the way Sam was playing with him. His brother literally using sex against him, and Dean didn’t appreciate it in the least.

No, he wanted to protest, he didn’t think Sam was weak. He’d never thought Sam was weak, he knew his brother could handle himself. But that didn’t mean that Dean wasn’t stronger than him, didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. Why was that so fucking hard for Sam to understand?

Fine, maybe Dean was a little bit guilty of still seeing Sam as his “little” brother who needed looking after, but Sam was guilty too. Of only seeing him as the big brother who’d never lay a finger on Sam to hurt him, part of Dean still was that, but he had something else inside of him now too. Something Sam couldn’t reason with, and something Dean couldn’t control, that would hurt or even kill his brother.

Dean tensed when Sam leaned down, sliding his tongue up his stomach, his muscles clenching and his breath hitching in spite of himself, and he knew he had to get Sam off of him now. He was done letting his brother play with him like this. But when Sam made his threat to chain his legs down too, Dean’s eyes widened in shock at first. And if that wasn’t enough to make him freeze almost as still as stone, Sam’s next blow, reminding him how he might hurt him again if he fought back, the elder man’s expression fell as though Sam had just killed his puppy or something.

Dean swallowed hard and looked away from the younger man, all the fight leaving him abruptly and his body went utterly limp beneath his brother’s weight. Of course he heard Sam mention going out later on to hustle for some money but he honestly didn’t know what the hell his brother expected him to say about that now. He didn’t know what his brother expected him to say about anything. Fine, Sam knew how to “handle” him. Knew how to play him. Knew exactly what to do and say to “keep him in line”. He’d made his point. Clearly. Why didn’t it make him feel any better?

Nothing was working. Not his attempts to sex Dean up. Not his attempts to tease him out of this mood. Not even a slap of reality, telling him how it was and that he didn’t have to worry... that Sam could take care of himself. Sam felt as if his heart was being squeezed.

“So we’re back to this. You won’t talk to me or look at me, and I’m just... God damn it. God damn you, Dean,” he lifted himself off his brother and clear to the edge of the bed, his legs planted on the floor as he braced his face in his hands.

“I just didn’t want to see chained to a fucking toilet and on a bathroom floor, is there something wrong with that? You’re chained, you can’t get away... it’s just as good, only you’re on a soft bed, and we can talk... or whatever else, and you REALLY think I should have left you there.” He rubbed his eyes and gave a weary sigh.

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I used to be able to read you. Used to be every fucking word out of my mouth wasn’t wrong, or everything I did. And hell, even when you thought it was, you’d just get it out of your system instead of this...” His voice broke as he used his thumb and index finger to wipe the tears threatening to fall from the inner corners of his eyes. “I try... I really do.” He bit his lip. “I should have gone and dad should have stayed, because you don’t need me Dean, you don’t.”

Dean flinched more than a little when Sam finally gave him what he’d “wanted” climbing off of him, and the elder man closed his eyes in misery. Yeah. God damn him. This was so fucked up. He was so fucked up. More than he’d ever realized and a lot of it had nothing to do with the whole damned werewolf thing.

Yes, a big part of him believed that Sam should have just left him there on that damned floor. It had been hard as hell putting the chains on himself, but at least it had been his choice. Then Sam had tricked him, in one of the worst possible ways. Pretending to be hurt to chain him up here, to the bed, instead.

Maybe there was little difference. Being chained up in the bathroom versus the bed, but in his mind there was a huge fucking difference. One of them had been his choice, the other one hadn’t. He might have been helpless both times, but here he actually felt helpless. Just like he’d felt with them. He’d been a prisoner for six fucking months, beaten, tortured, starved, trapped, helpless…

He’d panicked, plain and simple. His whole being rebelled against those feelings, being forced to endure them all over again, even though logically of course he knew Sam wasn’t like them, wasn’t like her. Sam would never hurt him that way, just like he would never hurt Sam… except he had. That thing inside of him had. That thing that also rebelled at the idea of being caged, trapped, and helpless. He was so afraid of what it might do, especially to the one it might consider its captor, regardless of the fact it also saw Sam as its “mate”.

Dean felt all the hopelessness Sam felt and more. He didn’t know what to do anymore than Sam did. His feelings were so jumbled up and twisted inside of him. One part proud of Sam for what he’d done, the other hating him for it. One part deathly afraid of what he was, what he might do, to his brother, and the other needing Sam so much he felt he couldn’t breathe without him.

Dean’s eyes snapped open when Sam said he should have gone. He shook his head, even though Sam’s back was to him and couldn’t see him. Sam’s back… that Dean had clawed up like an animal… Dean barely managed to swallow down the sick feeling that rose up in inside of him. The chains rattling around his wrists as he instinctively tried to reach out for the younger man, and couldn’t.

“Sammy… I do… please… I’m sorry…” He tried to keep his voice from trembling, breaking, hating how it made him feel even more helpless, but he couldn’t. He was so god damned tired of apologizing. It felt like that was all he did, was apologize to Sam for hurting him. Could he possibly fuck things up any more? “You’re right, ok? I’m fucked up. I’m going out of my mind, Sam. I’m trying to hold on… and every day it gets harder. She said it would get harder… Fuck!”

Dean’s hands clenched into fists and he kicked at the footboard of the bed angrily. How many times had they had this same “discussion”, how many more times? How many more times would he wish Sam hadn’t found him on that bridge or that he’d managed to eat a bullet before his brother had come back to the room? How soon before Sam began to wish the same thing?

“I don’t know what to do… I don’t…” His strongest instinct had always been to protect his brother. What the hell was he supposed to do when he couldn’t even trust that instinct anymore? What the hell was he supposed to do…

Was all this about his new werewolf hormones? Maybe Dean couldn’t help it. Maybe it wasn’t his own attitude, but this thing’s inside him. The anguish in his brother’s voice. The rare apology. That made him want to break down right there. Made him want to give up. Only he couldn’t... he never would where Dean was concerned.

Biting his lower lip, he took a moment, trying to stop the flood of tears, trying to get a hold of himself. A few breaths, a quiet sniffle later, and a sleeve brushed over his eyes was what he allowed himself, before rolling back on the bed, reaching up and loosening the damned chains.

He looked down into Dean’s equally strained features. “I can’t stand seeing you like this a moment before it’s necessary,” he shook his head before Dean started to argue with him. “You feel it’s necessary, fine... we’ll go with that.” His voice cracked slightly. “Just don’t shut me out Dean. Every time you do that, it gets harder.” His gaze dropped to Dean’s mouth but he dragged it away. “I can take anything, except that.” It was worse than any physical blow, but he didn’t know if his brother would get that about him... about how he was hardwired.

In those moments when Sam didn’t move, even to look at him as he spoke, Dean was afraid that his brother might just walk away from him and leave him like this. Maybe he’d finally pushed Sam to the limit. There was only so much anyone could take. Maybe Sam really had finally given up on him.

Then his brother was releasing the chains from their tightened position, allowing him to move his arms again, but Dean was almost afraid to. Even though every fiber of his being wanted to reach for Sam, to pull his brother close, and just hold onto him and never let go.

Dean swallowed hard. Don’t shut him out… how many times had Sam asked, begged, pleaded with him not to do that. Yet every time it came back to that. Every time it did get harder. Dean had never been the “caring and sharing” type to begin with. His problems were just that, his problems. He didn’t share his problems with anyone, especially not his brother. Because it was his job to look after Sam, his job to make sure the younger boy was always taken care of first and foremost.

If Sam had a problem, they dealt with it. If Dean had a problem, he dealt with it himself or he buried it. His dad had enough to deal with and didn’t need the extra hassle of his eldest son’s problems, and Sammy certainly didn’t need the burden of worrying about his big brother… it was the way things always had been.

This… wasn’t something that could be pushed aside or buried. This wasn’t something either of them could forget or pretend wasn’t there. This wasn’t something Dean could deal with on his own, though he tried, fuck he tried. He’d always needed Sam, but this time he really needed Sam, and… fuck… that scared the shit out of him. Everything scared the shit out of him. Everything was changing. He was changing. Every day. Losing himself a little more every day…

Dean licked his lips and nodded shakily. “Ok, Sammy. Ok.” He whispered, feeling like he’d said the same so often in the last… god… few weeks? It was so fucking hard to believe it had only been a few weeks… and in another couple more would be the full moon and he’d change completely.

Almost hesitantly Dean tugged on the now loosened chains giving himself enough slack to reach out for Sam and pull the younger man closer to him. Wrapping his arms around the younger man, careful of Sam’s back, hugging him close. Maybe it was a bad idea, but damn it, he needed this and he had a feeling his brother did too right now.

“Don’t fucking scare me like that again, Sam.” He said softly, even knowing he was being the pot calling the kettle black, “I can’t handle the thought of you hurt. Ever.”

Dean’s agreement didn’t extinguish the pain inside Sam’s heart. They’d been here... right here... before. And they’d be back, he was sure of it. ‘Okay Sam’ was just code for he’d try, or he’d do it for a while. “Sure, Dean,” he let his eyelids flutter shut, not wanting his brother to see too much.

That lump that was nestled in his throat grew larger as Dean pulled him down. He was so careful, so damned gentle, Sam knew he was still thinking about having clawed his back. One palm over Dean’s heart, he rested his head on Dean’s chest, snuggling close and nodding as Dean told him not to scare him again. “I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry.”

He’d been scared for Dean. Seeing him like that. Seeing the guilt and revulsion and reading between the lines, guessing that chaining himself to the toilet had been in part a punishment he’d meted out onto himself... that had scared the shit out of Sam. That and wondering if Dean would ever talk to him again.

He shouldn’t be this needy. If Dean wanted time to himself, he should be able to give it to him. Why couldn’t he do that for his brother? Why couldn’t he take the silences, even if they hurt? Why did he have to challenge Dean, force him to make it better?

Because Dean had always made things better. That’s why. Clutching a handful of Dean’s shirt, he lifted his face slightly and kissed Dean under the chin. Then again. Before he knew it, he was feathering kisses along his brother’s jaw line, and working his way to his mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry Dean,” he whispered between kisses. “I know it’s harder on you, and I shouldn’t push.”

Bracing himself on his elbows, he looked down into Dean’s face. “But I can’t help it. I need you. I feel so fucking lost when you...slip away like that.” He didn’t have to say ‘shut down.’ Dropping his head down, he rested his lips over Dean’s for a moment. “Find me, find me Dean,” he begged, suddenly kissing him hard, pushing his tongue inside the heat of his brother’s mouth, demanding Dean take away the pain in the way only Dean could. “Please...find me.” He crushed his mouth down again, this time cupping the side of Dean’s face and moaning lightly with need.

It always amazed Dean that even though his “little” brother was such a fucking giant now, that in moments like this, when the younger man was snuggled up against him, he felt just like the little scrawny kid he used to be in his arms. Even as he tugged his brother a little bit closer to him, running his fingers gently through Sam’s hair, and brushing his lips across the younger man’s forehead, Dean wondered if that was part of the problem, because though Sam would always be his “baby” brother, he definitely wasn’t little, scrawny, or a boy anymore.

Sam was a grown man. Dad had trained him, trained them both, to be deadly weapons even without a blade or gun in their hands. There was nothing but strength in the muscles beneath his hands, his brother more than a match for him, at least until this whole fucking werewolf thing… Sam was strong. So fucking strong, in so many ways. Though in moments like these Sam seemed so young, even fragile.

Dean needed both, he realized suddenly. He needed to know that Sam was strong, that he could handle anything, that nothing and no one (especially not him) could take his brother down. He needed to know Sam would always be safe, even when he wasn’t around. At the same time he needed Sam to need him, like his brother had always needed him, because it was all he knew how to be. For protection, for love… He needed Sam to look up to him, he needed Sam to want him, and he needed to be the barrier between Sam and all the fucking evils of the world.

Was it any wonder he was so fucked up?

Dean made soft soothing noises, whispered reassurances, when he felt his brother’s desperate kisses along his neck and jaw.

“It’s ok. It’s ok, Sammy. Shh…” He whispered in reply to his brother’s apologies. Looking up at Sam with all the adoration in the world, brushing his fingertips over the younger man’s face, his heart aching and fluttering in his chest like a girl’s at the same time. It seemed Sam always knew what to say, what to do, to bring him back. Always giving him exactly what he needed, even though he didn’t know it, or might not like it, at the time.

His hand slipping through his brother’s hair to cradle the back of his skull, Dean pulled his brother in close, licking his way into Sam’s mouth and kissing him hungrily. His cock that had already been a little interested by Sam’s actions earlier, more than ready to pick up where things had left off. His other hand slid down to grip his brother’s hips hard, tugging Sam in close and arching a little beneath the younger man. Letting Sam feel just how much his brother was affecting him. How Sam always affected him.

“You’re right here, Sammy. Right here, with me. I’m right here. You always bring me back…” Dean whispered against his brother’s lips, kissing him again with a needy moan.

There was a desperate edge to Sam’s kisses, the way he clutched Dean, clinging to him like his brother might evaporate. He needed Dean in so many ways, so many… but he didn’t think Dean understood that. “Right here,” he echoed, shoving his hands under Dean’s tee shirt, fingers splayed wide and touching him, groping him hard, like he was proving to himself that his brother was still there… that they both were.

He moved over Dean, forcing his lower body down harder over him, his tongue battling his brothers, his hands roaming, memorizing, gripping, apologies and assurances breaking from him each time he remembered the bleakness of the hours before, when he thought he was alone again. “Love you, Dean,” he said shakily, meaning every word. “Love you.”

He heard the clinking of chains and sucked his breath in as a rush of unexpected excitement flooded his system. Lifting his head slightly, he looked behind him, at Dean’s hand, his wrist cuffed, chained… His gaze followed the chain to the wall, and he bit his lower lip, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. Wasn’t it sick that the sight of Dean like this made him wild with need? After he’d seen his brother chained like an animal by the werewolves, after he’d protested the chaining to the toilet… how the fuck could he feel like this.

Breathing hard, he swallowed. “Dean, I….” Bracing his weight on his arms and lifting up, a question in his eyes, he forced the words out. “Probably shouldn’t… not like this…” But his body was screaming for it. His cock was hard, and throbbing, straining against his zipper and pressing into his brother’s hip. And his mind… holy hell, he’d thought he liked it when Dean held him down but the sight of Dean in chains was doing things to his insides… making him so fucking hot, he thought he might explode.

Dean couldn’t help but groan as Sam’s hands slid possessively up underneath his shirt, caressing his chest, grazing over his nipples, and the elder man arched again, greedy for more of his brother’s touch. He caressed Sam’s hips, his sides, and ass, carefully not to slide his hands too far up on the younger man’s back. He didn’t want to hurt Sam any more. Dean was almost afraid to ask his brother how much it did hurt still. He would do anything to take that pain away.

Near constant moans of pleasure spilled from his lips as his brother straddled him, rocking their hips together, feeling the younger man’s arousal pressing firmly against him. His own dick growing even harder, trapped inside his jeans.

“Love you too, Sammy. Always…” The heartfelt words spilled from his lips easily. Surprisingly easily. He didn’t even care if the younger man ribbed him later for all this girly romantic talk. It was true. Plain and simple truth. No matter what else changed, this would always be true. Always.

Sam’s sharp intake of breath made him afraid for a moment he had accidentally hurt his brother again. But then he noticed the younger man’s gaze going to the cuffs around his wrists, saw his blush, smelt the spike in arousal, and Dean couldn’t help but grin at Sam.

“Never realized you were so damned kinky, baby brother.” Dean teased, and without a word he lifted his arms above his head again. A part of him didn’t really like the idea of what he was offering, the idea of being helpless like this. There was a big difference between what they’d done before, Sam being in control, telling him not to move and Dean obeying, and simply not being able to. But this was Sam and he trusted his brother with his life and more. If this was what Sam wanted, it was the least he could do… and it wasn’t as though his cock was complaining.

“Go ahead.”

When Dean teased him, Sam’s embarrassment had doubled and he’d been almost ready to make his escape. Then Dean raised his hands up and the sight of him chained up like that, incredible heat pooled low in Sam’s belly. His flush darkened.

Then his brother gave him the go ahead, and nothing could stop him. Nothing.

Stretching to the wall, he pulled on the chain to secure it so that Dean’s hands wouldn’t fall down again, then he swallowed. “I didn’t know either, Dean.”

Sliding a hand under Dean’s neck, he pulled him up off the mattress, his eyes sweeping over is brother’s straining muscles from shoulder to the cuffs before he lowered his mouth and kissed him. Hardly knowing what to do with the intensity of lust wreaking havoc with his system, he crushed their mouths together in a furious kiss. His tongue wove in and out of Dean’s mouth, hard and fast, even when they both ran out of breath and it was almost painful to continue.

All he knew was that his hormones were raging out of control. Maybe it was from all the fear of losing his brother. Maybe it was because he was kinky. Sam didn’t know... didn’t care... it just had to be this way, right now, it had to be this way.

His hand moved down Dean’s semi bare chest. He lifted up and started to undo Dean’s belt, then broke the kiss, sat up and pulled the belt completely off. Looking down at his brother’s swollen mouth, knowing he was responsible, his eyes burned with heat.

He unbuttoned and unzipped Dean, moving back and pulling his brother’s jeans off in one strong tug. His gaze fell to where Dean’s shorts tented up, and made his breath catch. A second later, he tore the shorts off Dean and tossed it on the ground. He peeled off is own shirt and tee shirt, and jeans, dropping them down onto the same pile before.

Naked except for the tee shirt pushed up his chest, chained, and eyes dark with lust, Dean looked so damned hot. The fact that his cock was erect was just and crying out for some attention was just a bonus. No it was Dean being Dean.

Sam would have smiled if he could have. Instead, he used his knees to part Dean’s legs wider, then dropped down and closed his fist around is brother’s cock. He moved his hand up and down Dean’s shaft, twisting his wrist and taking in his brother’s expressions before licking his crown and slowly taking it into his mouth.

If anything the darkening blush that began at his brother’s cheeks and traveled down his neck, maybe even his chest, either from embarrassment, arousal, or both, caused heat to flow southward in Dean as well. His cock swelling even more in the confinement of his jeans and just knowing how much this was turning his brother on was quickly evaporating any sense of unease or hesitation he might have at being chained up, helpless, and allowing the younger man to do anything he wanted with him.

His heart rate climbed steadily as Sam tightened the chains once more. Dean tugged on them experimentally and of course they didn’t budge an inch. The hunger in his brother’s eyes made him groan and his lips parted, his breath quickening, when Sam tugged him up. His arms straining against the cuffs and his second groan was lost into his brother’s mouth as Sam devoured him.

Sam ravaged his lips, claiming him, and it was all Dean could do just to moan in pleasure under the treatment. His brain short circuiting and hardly any other thought managing to penetrate through the fog of lust but how good it felt, how good Sam tasted, how much he never wanted the kiss to end. His moans only increasing in volume as his brother’s hands mapped every inch of the flesh of his chest on their way down to his jeans.

When his brother finally broke their kiss Dean was left gasping. Barely having enough control over his own shaking muscles as he lifted his hips to help Sam remove his belt and strip off his jeans and underwear, leaving him nearly bare under his brother’s raking gaze. Dean groaned and licked his lips as he watched Sam strip himself just as quickly, more breathless gasps escaping his lips as his brother pushed his legs apart wider. Somehow feeling even more naked and exposed still wearing his shirt pushed up so high on his chest and naked everywhere else.

“Fuck yeah…” He whispered, his hips bucking up, thrusting into his brother’s fist that wrapped around him. His arms straining even more against the chains, his fingers practically itching to reach down and grasp his brother’s hair, tugging Sam’s mouth down to where he wanted it, but unable to. God, he was just realizing how much his brother could torture him right now, tease him, make him wait, make him beg…

“Sammy…” Dean moaned his brother’s name, his head falling back in pleasure as he arched beneath the younger man. Trying to push himself deeper into Sam’s hot wet mouth, spreading his legs even wider, silently begging for more.

Dean's reactions ratcheted up the tension coiling in Sam's belly. Though he refused to take all of Dean inside his mouth just yet, he stroked his shaft with his fist and sucked his tip, making sounds of pleasure geared to make his mouth vibrate around Dean's dick.

The harder Dean got, the harder Sam got. His cock ached and pulsed between his legs, and yet he had no relief. He pulled off Dean's tip, and bent lower, licking up from Dean's balls along the underside of his shaft to his tip. "Taste salty." He pressed the flat of his tongue against the side of Dean's cock, then tried to suck. "Damn, you're so hard your skin's pulled too tight."

He sensed Dean was getting impatient. "You want to fuck my mouth, don't you? You want me to take you deep and suck you off. I'll do it Dean, but you gotta tell me what you want... exactly what you want."

The thought of Dean talking dirty had his cock twitching. But the brief silence had Sam slightly irritated. He stopped squeezing Dean and let his cock rest against his mouth, letting Dean feel as he spoke. "What do you want? Some tongue action? Mouth? A handjob? Or you want to fuck me?" Turning his face slightly, he licked the inner part of Dean's thigh, and sucked on it, very aware this was the place his brother had been marked by that bitch. But Dean was his now... whether she knew it or not.

Dean growled low in his throat, loving the feel of Sam’s mouth and hand teasing his cock and hating it at the same time. More, he needed more damn it. He needed to feel the heat of his brother’s mouth all around him, he needed to feel Sam sucking on him and stroking him with his tongue while he thrust his dick between those perfect lips. He wanted to feel himself so far, so deep, that Sam had to take him into his throat. Sam’s saliva and his own come slicking lubing him up and letting him slide easily, feeling his brother moaning around him.

Instead Sam continued to tease him, giving him only a taste of what he really wanted. Sucking only on his head. Pulling off him with an obscene pop to lick up his shaft, the younger man’s tongue leaving a trail of fire up his cock followed quickly by the cold air once it was gone. His hips kept jerking up, thrusting himself between Sam’s fingers, providing him some friction but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what he really wanted, and he couldn’t do anything about it but wait until Sam gave it to him.

Dean gave his brother a look that said he might just contemplate fratricide if the younger man didn’t get on with it. Groaning like he was in pain as Sam asked him what he wanted. Sam knew damn well what he wanted. Though when Sam asked him to tell him exactly what he wanted, Dean couldn’t help but remember the last time his brother had asked him similar. Remembering just how hot it had made the younger man before they’d been… interrupted.

The elder man groaned as Sam began to suck on his inner thigh, so close to where he really wanted it, his cock throbbing in the younger man’s hand Dean barely was able to manage to think much less speak. But knowing Sam could leave him like this indefinitely if he didn’t give Sam what he wanted was more than enough incentive to find his voice. That, and knowing Sam would probably do anything he asked right now, as long as he described it in graphic enough detail.

“I want you to turn around, 69 baby, and wrap your lips around my cock and take me in your mouth slowly. I want you to take me all the way while you play with my balls. I want you to let me fuck up into your mouth, getting me all wet. Dripping wet.” Dean whispered, licking his lips and moaning just imagining how fucking good it was going to feel. His voice lowering an octave, trying to keep himself from coming as he continued.

“While you’re sucking on my cock I want to watch you finger yourself open. I want to watch you fuck yourself while I suck on your cock. I want to use my tongue inside of your while you use your fingers, get you nice and wet. Then I want you to get on my cock and ride me until you scream.

Sam practically stilled as his brother came through. Every dirty, nasty word that fell from Dean's lips made his body pulse with hunger... an absolute need to make the words come true. Graphic images of Dean branding his mouth, and his ass, in his own special way, tortured his mind, pushed Sam to the very edge. Giving an almost animalistic groan, Sam crawled up Dean's body and looked him in the eyes.

"You had me at 69. Where the fuck did you learn to talk this dirty?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead bringing his mouth down hard over Dean's and sweeping his tongue inside, exploring every inch, tongue fucking it the way he imagined Dean would be fucking his mouth. By the time he lifted his head, both their mouths were swollen, and he tasted blood.

His heart was beating so damned hard, it felt like his chest was about to explode. He leaned over and grabbed the package on the night stand, dropping it on the bed, then sat up again. Lips pressed tightly closed together he started to collect and swish spit in his mouth, making sure Dean knew what he was doing, before he glanced at the chains one last time and changed positions, straddling Dean's chest and facing Dean's now dripping cock.

He palmed Dean's balls, squeezing them gently a few times as he bent over to take his cock in his wet mouth. He was so hot, so hard—like steel—he was desperately grinding his own cock against Dean's chest and couldn't worry about how he looked to Dean, with his ass facing his brother.

He took Dean's cock, every inch of it in his mouth, relaxing his throat as he allowed himself time to get used to it before sucking hard. Feeling Dean nudge his cock even deeper into his mouth, Sam got to work, sucking moving his mouth up and down his brother's length, squeezing his balls and holding him steady.

He didn't know if he set the punishing pace or if it was Dean with his own frantic motions, all he knew was that he could easily come against Dean's chest if he continued for too much longer. Fuck Did Dean think he had superhuman concentration powers and could finger himself at the same time as this?

With his free hand, he fumbled with the paper bag he'd dropped on the bed. He retrieved the tube of lube he'd bought, pulled his mouth off Dean's cock and held the cap with his teeth so he could twist it open. It took a fraction of a second but Dean was already protesting the absence of his mouth. "Right here... fuck my mouth Dean, like you wanted," he said, opening for Dean and letting him push inside again.

Leaning forward, balancing himself, he shoved a lubed finger inside his hole. Sam's mouth pressed closed tighter around Dean as he got used to the pain and found a rhythm, taking care to make sure Dean could see his long middle finger appearing and disappearing inside him.