After Sam left to see his father and Jim provided his sleeping bag to the young man, Jim busied himself with straightening the church. The church had once been a beautiful building and the pastor in him wanted to clean what had once been a holy gathering place. If he enhanced it as a place of protection against demons along the way, all the better. His injured shoulder made the work go slowly but it wasn't as if he had any other pressing business.

He had been working for hours when his grumbling stomach finally reminded him it might be time to break his fast. Glancing at his watch he was startled by how much time had passed. He ought to think about getting himself cleaned up and ready to relieve Sam at the hospital.

Beyond brushing the dirt and dust from his clothes, all he could really do was wash his face and hands and run a comb through his hair to make himself presentable. If he was hungry surely the man chained below was as well. Ashamedly, he realized he hadn't he even checked to see if the man needed water.

He was walking over to the cooler when his phone rang. Checking the caller ID, he greeted the young man warmly when he answered the call. "Hello Samuel. I'm sorry, the time got away from me. I'll be there…"

"Actually Jim, I need you to stay for right now. Bobby and I are just about done shopping. We'll be there soon, and I have a few things I need to talk to both of you about."

"Okay, Sam," Jim said, mildly curious, but content to wait. "How is Jonathon doing?"

Sam gave a soft laugh, "He's doing well. Managed to stay awake more than he slept. We got to talk a lot. How's Dean?"

"I was just getting ready to take him his dinner."

"Thanks, Jim. We're only about fifteen minutes out. Talk to you in a few."

"See you then."

After ending the call, Jim dug into the cooler and pulled out a couple sandwiches not sure what all Sam purchased for them, but quite grateful the young man had been so thoughtful. It looked like Jim had his choice of just about anything he could want as far as deli sandwiches went. The reuben sounded quite good. After a moment of indecision he took out a turkey sandwich for Dean, hoping their guest liked turkey. He put the sandwiches, some chips, a couple candy bars and some soda into a bag and then he walked to the basement and down its steps. The young man in chains immediately looked up, watching Jim's every move.

"I thought you might be hungry. I know I am." Jim strode over to the table and set down the meals.

"I've got a reuben and a turkey sandwich, but there's italian, ham, pastrami, roast beef. I think there's another reuben up in the cooler, too. I brought you a turkey sandwich but if something else sounds better…?"

Jim wasn't surprised when Dean did nothing more than stare at him indifferently from where he sat, leaning against the wall.

"All right, turkey it is." Jim tossed the turkey sandwich, the chips, can of soda, and the candy bar one at a time to Dean.

Returning to the table, Jim sat down facing Dean, and striped the cellophane from his own sandwich. Although he couldn't move his shoulder, his hand was fine and he was able to get the chips open without too much difficulty. He saw Dean's wariness of the meal Jim had provided.

Jim sighed. "Sam would never forgive me if I tried to poison you. It's safe. One-hundred percent safe." Jim gave him a kind smile. "I doubt you care, but I forgive you for trying to kill me. I know, at least from what Sam says, that you may try again if you get free of those chains. But you're following orders, and I understand that. I do hope Sam is able to win you over to our side, and I do hope there may come a day when I can shake your hand without worry." Jim paused to take a few bites of his sandwich. It was surprisingly good.

"I can't say I've forgiven you for what you did to John," Jim said quietly. "That's going to take longer, and take a bit more effort on your part to prove to us Sam's belief in you isn't misguided. If it is…" Jim's face grew momentarily dark. "Well, I pray that it isn't. John needs his son back and Sam needs his brother. John…John will forgive you. The man is as stubborn as a mule, but he has mourned your loss for so many years, that to find you alive is miraculous. The man is like my brother and I know he will want to get to know you. John can deny it all he wants, but some of that soft side of Samuel comes right from John." Jim smiled again. "And that means you have it, too. You may have demon blood in you, son, but you have Winchester blood first. That makes you family. If you prove to us that you truly want to be part of this family, we will welcome you."

Jim slowly ate more of his meal. "If there is anything you need that I can safely provide, I will try. You merely have to ask."

Pausing to drink some of his soda, he continued. "I hope you can eventually forgive Bobby and me for what we did to you. We had no idea the solution would react so violently. We did not mean to cause you so much pain and nearly poison you. Though to my shame, I will admit I couldn't help but think at the time it was well deserved for what you did to John and for all the other hunters you have killed. If you weren't Samuel's brother and Jonathon's son, things would be very different. But Sam believes in you and I believe in Sam. And so here we are. I hope we are not forced to face one another is battle again. The death of you or I would pain Samuel greatly and I know neither of us wants that. That much I can see in your eyes."

Jim stared at Dean a moment, studying him. "I hadn't noticed before, but now that you're calm, I see that you have your mother's eyes. I never actually met her, but I have seen Mary's picture and her eyes were the same shade of green as your own. In fact, you do look a little like her. You've got her finer bone structure while Sam most definitely takes more after John.

"Sam called a few minutes ago. He'll be here soon. Since he and Bobby went shopping, I would guess that hot water Sam asked for will be available for you before you know it." Jim finished off the last of his sandwich and potato chips, then devoured the candy bar. Chocolate and wine, his two major vices. He gathered his trash and tossed it into the nearby bucket.

"Before I go back upstairs, do you need anything else? There are more sandwiches if you're still hungry. Chips, candy bars, soda, water?" Jim asked Dean.

Having not much else to do during the long day while Sam was gone, Dean had slept most of the day. It was better than staring at the wall, or watching how the little bit of light that filtered through the small dirty windows shifted along the floor as the hours slowly passed.

Without Sam here to distract him, his thoughts delved into places he really didn’t want to go. Fears and worries now plagued his mind that he’d never had to consider before now. Because he’d never cared about anything or anyone but himself before. With Sam here it was easy to ignore his fears of what would happen to him once his father found him, and what would happen to Sam once Azazel got his hands on the younger man. It was easy to forget about his orders and his uncertainty what would happen once he was forced to choose… to obey his father’s wishes or protect Sam…

Dean much preferred the oblivion of sleep, even with the nightmares that plagued it. Though occasionally he’d wake up due to a noise he’d hear from above, made by the hunter who’d been left to babysit him, or from a nightmare. It always set him on edge, remembering all too well Dumah’s attack on the church and knowing it was only a matter of time before more demons came.

That tension made it harder to just fall back to sleep. It made him restless. Made his skin almost feel like it was vibrating and he had absolutely no way right now to release that energy.

Dean heard the sound of a phone ring from above, heard the faint sound of the hunter’s voice, though he couldn’t understand the words he hoped it meant that Sam was returning soon. Sitting here like this was beginning to drive him crazy.

His muscles tensed when he heard the hunter’s footsteps approaching the stairs, his eyes snapping to the doorway and narrowing a little when the other man appeared and began to descend the stairs. What the hell did he want? After handing him over the sleeping bag he’d promised Sam the hunter had left him alone, thankfully. So why was he here now? If Sam was going to be here soon anyway… Or maybe the call had been about the opposite, and that’s why the other hunter was here, taking care of the “pet” while his master was away. Maybe Sam wasn’t coming back at all tonight and Dean’s heart plummeted a little at that thought.

Not bothering to answer the other man’s question of whether or not he was hungry, or what he wanted to eat. Like the hunter really cared about either. He almost told the older man to fuck off, but remembered Sam’s request that he try to remain “civil” so Dean merely stared at the other man. Giving nothing away. Catching the items of food easily when they were thrown at him, but he didn’t start eating, even when the other hunter sat down at the table like he had before. Only before, Sam had been here. Now it was only the two of them, and Dean could think of absolutely no reason why the other man would want to eat in his presence, except maybe to watch him choke on his food.

When the hunter reassured him the food was “safe” Dean gave a snort of doubt that was more for show than anything else, because he knew the other man was telling the truth. That Sam would not forgive him if he tried to poison him again, so Dean started to unwrap his own sandwich, if only so he had something to do to occupy himself and make it easier to ignore the hunter. Though to be honest, he was hungry, though he hadn’t really noticed before. He was so used to the irregularities of his meals that he often didn’t register small pangs of hunger anymore, it usually took a couple days of starvation for him really notice it.

No, he honestly didn’t care whether or not the other man “forgave” him for trying to kill him. What was he trying to do now, bore him to death? Poisoning him would have been quicker, and more merciful, in Dean’s opinion.

It was all Dean could do not to roll his eyes as the other man talked about John Winchester and his “forgiveness”. Like he really cared what the man he’d tortured cared about him, if the older man had… mourned… for him. Family… he didn’t need a family… didn’t want a family. All he wanted was Sam. As far as Dean was concerned the rest of them could all take their forgiveness and shove it up their asses. What little bit of human blood was left in him didn’t mean a thing, and they were all fucking hypocrites anyway. They only tolerated him because of Sam, if Sam cast him out they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him or worse, and once they found out about the demon blood in Sam… they would both be outcasts from this little “family”.

Dean froze however when the other man mentioned his… mother. That word meant absolutely nothing to him. Even less so than the word “father” did. At least in the human terms. Still, it made him uncomfortable for reasons he couldn’t explain. Made him want to avoid meeting the other man’s eyes if only so the hunter would stop comparing them to another’s.

He visibly relaxed when the hunter told him that Sam would be here soon. He was even more glad when the other man appeared to be finished with his meal and appeared to be leaving now. Not a moment too soon.

“No.” Dean answered the hunter’s question if he needed anything simply, without looking up. He didn’t need anything. He just wanted the man to go.

It took the three of them close to fifteen minutes to get everything unloaded from the Impala and into the church. Jim looked on in amazement at plethora of items. Air mattresses, water heater, electric heaters, food, water, paper, blankets, clothes, pipes, tools, herbs, bullets, knives… It seemed unending.

"Did you buy out Walmart?" Jim asked Bobby as he looked around at the pile of things they had dragged in.

Bobby snorted. "Damned near. A few other places too. I forgot how much that car can hold."

The two men began carrying the items deeper into the church. After Sam's return from hiding the car, he aided in getting the last of the items into one of the spare rooms.

"So what's going on?" Jim asked as they collapsed into chairs.

Taking a deep breath, Sam began to relate to them his father's thoughts about moving, how that wasn't feasible, and therefore the resulting fortification of the church. "We decided that since you were injured and the church is much more likely to be attacked than the hospital, you, Jim, should be the one to look after Dad. Bobby and I will stay here and protect Dean…and me." Sam knew he had to tell them, but it felt so hard. "They're after me. They want to take me in to some demon. Maybe this yellow eyed one I saw."

"If that's the case," Bobby said, "why didn't the thing just grab you at your apartment?"

"I'm not really sure, this is just a guess, but I think it wanted to push me. It killed Jessica and my friends and then sent my own brother after our dad with orders to kill him and the two of you. I don't know if you were picked out specifically or just fall into the category of kill all hunters. Dad, he was chosen to get me within Dean's reach. And I think to push me, make me angry, make me desperate…make me discover the abilities I have." Sam hesitated then looked between the men. "I have demon blood in me, too."

Jim and Bobby stared at him, their jaws slack.

"It must have done something to me just before it kidnapped Dean. I can't control these abilities, but Dean says I've got more power than anyone he's ever seen. I'm guessing he's seen a lot, so that's kind of scary. I don't have any control over them." Sam gave a half-hearted laugh. "Just don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." He grimaced. "Just call me the Hulk."

Jim recovered first and laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "How about we call you David Banner? He was a kind man who tried to help people and even the Hulk that he turned into tried to help people."

"You really," Bobby started, blanched, and tried again. "You have these demon powers like that –like Dean?"

"Well, he's got a finesse approach. I have a sledge hammer. Or as he put it, a battering ram," Sam said with a nod. "I'm…I'm going to have to learn how to use them."

"No!" Bobby said. "Absolutely not! Are you crazy, Boy?"

"Bobby," Sam pleaded, "I get upset, and things just happen. Maybe use them is the wrong thing to say. I have to learn to control them or I'm going to hurt someone. I don't have a choice and," he swung his gaze to Jim, "Dad doesn't need to know that I'm going to train with these abilities, okay? I laid enough on him today. When he's a little better and stronger, but not yet."

Jim didn't look any happier than Bobby but agreed. "So how, exactly, are you going to learn to control them, Mr. Banner," Jim asked.

Sam's gaze dropped away from his friends. "Dean's offered to show me."

"You're playing right into their hands! This could be a set up from the get go!" Bobby fumed.

"Don't you think I know that?" Sam snapped. "This demon wants me to come into my powers and he's forcing my hand. I don't have a choice!"

"Of course you have a choice!" Bobby said. "You say 'no'!"

Of course he wanted to say "no!" He would love nothing more than to forget he had demon blood, love nothing more than to be normal, and go back to his apartment and his girlfriend and his friends. That's all he'd ever wanted to be. Just normal, dammit! But it was gone. All of it. Literally turned to ash in the case of Jessica and their home. And it was his fault. It was his fault his mother had died, his fault his brother had been taken, his fault Jessica and Mike were dead, and his fault his father had been tortured to within an inch of his life. Sam felt a small bubble energy flare inside him as Bobby's words echoed in his ears.

An old half rotted cabinet behind Bobby exploded into splinters.

Bobby and Jim both grabbed weapons and dove for cover. Sam stood where he'd been, his head down. He would never, ever be normal again.

"Sorry. That was me," Sam said softly. "I'm a grenade ready to go off. I have to let him teach me. It's getting worse. It's taking less and less to make it erupt. Like that."

Bobby and Jim both stared wide-eyed at him. Jim cleared his throat. "We don't like it, Sam, but I guess we don't have any choice."

Sam bit back his anger with effort. "It wouldn't be your choice, Jim. I'm twenty three. I am not a fucking ten year old. I value you and Bobby's opinions very much, but I am not a child anymore. It is my choice."

Bobby measured Sam. "I could make a bag for you, too. It would keep your powers under lock and key. Wouldn't have to put the curse on it. You could take it off when you wanted."

Nodding a little at Bobby, he said. "That's not a bad idea for down the road, but the demons are going to come for me. It isn't a question of 'if' but of 'when.' Hell, I don't know, maybe even big bad-ass himself will show. These hex bags aren't going to hide us forever. Demons found us once. They'll find us—find me—again. I need to know how these powers work. Maybe I can figure out how to counter them, or hold a demon long enough we can get a bag over its neck." Running a hand through his hair, Sam slowly shook his head. "After all this is over, I might take you up on that bag. And if you two see me get out of control, really out of control, do what you have to. But not until after this demon is handled. I promised Dean I would get him free of his…master." That's what Dean was, after all, Sam realized. A slave. He was a soldier, surely, but first he was the demon's slave.

"Please," Sam asked. "I need you to stand by me on this. I'm freaked enough."

After a moment Bobby stepped forward and gave Sam a big bear hug. "Fool kid. 'Course we'll stand by you. 'Course we'll knock you upside the head too, when you need it. And Sammy, I don't care how old you get, how smart you are, how good of a hunter you are, you will always be Sammy to me. I do trust you, Sam. That—your brother wouldn't still be alive if I didn't. And I sure as hell wouldn't be holing up with you for God knows how long ready to fight off an army of demons if I didn't know you was all grown up and able to handle yourself just fine."

"I'm right there with Bobby, Samuel," Jim said. "You know we're here for you. If you feel as if you're getting out of control, tell us. Even if the demon hasn't come yet. Maybe we can do something to help ground you so you can move forward and not lose yourself in the demon blood. John can't lose you too, Sam. Just don't lock us out of this, okay?"

Sam nodded and sighed with relief. It went better than he feared. He supposed if he didn't have a bunch of demons definitely coming after him, and his powers weren't so obviously out of control, he would agree with the elder hunters. This wouldn't be something to mess with. But he was effectively backed into a corner and they all knew it. He had to learn how to use his teeth.

"I'm going to go see Dean for a little bit, kinda fill him in. I'll be back up in a half hour or so to help get all this stuff," he waved his hand at the piles of supplies, "sorted out. I'm going to shut the door to the basement. I want to talk with him in private. Okay?"

Glancing at one another, Bobby and Jim reluctantly agreed.

With a thankful smile to them, Sam strode quickly to the basement and pulled the door closed behind him. He wanted to catch Dean up on everything, give him the plans and strategies he and his father had worked out, and see if Dean could punch any holes in them or make any recommendations of further fortifications. He didn't figure Dean would be ready to open up about such things in front of either Bobby or Jim yet.

He hurried down the stairs and the look on Dean's face warmed his heart. Before he knew what he was doing he had Dean up against the wall, pressing as much of his body as he could against Dean, kissing him deeply as he could.

It was all going to be all right. If the Winchesters couldn't beat it, then nothing could.

Dean finished his meal alone, much to his relief. Wadding up his trash when he was finished and tossing it across the room into the waste basket, smirking slightly when landed inside perfectly without even touching the sides. Then it was back to waiting.

The minutes seeming to stretch even longer since the hunter had told him that Sam would be here “soon”. What exactly was soon? Not soon enough for him. He’d never liked waiting. He wasn’t the sit around and do nothing kind of guy. Sitting around all day with nothing to occupy him but his own thoughts was almost a torture in of itself.

When he thought he heard the sound of a familiar car engine pull up just outside the church Dean sat up a little straighter. Listening intently.

He was sure he heard three distinct sounds of footsteps from the floor above, the two other hunters and Sam? Yes, he was quite sure he heard Sam’s voice, along with the voices of the other two men, and that restless energy that had been humming underneath his skin all day long only seemed to grow worse.

There was a lot of movement. Things being moved around, Dean tensed a little when he heard a loud crash. What the hell were they doing up there anyway? What was taking so long? When he finally heard the sound of footsteps approaching the stairs to the basement, Dean had to restrain himself from jumping up like some kind of excited kid, though he couldn’t stop himself from smiling like some kind of love struck fool when he finally saw Sam walking down the stairs towards him.

All that waiting, and finally between one breath and the next, Sam was in his arms.

Dean clutched at the younger man, framing Sam’s face between his hands as he returned the desperate kiss Sam gave him with just as much enthusiasm. Pouring all of that energy, desire, longing, he’d felt all day into every touch, ever flick of his tongue, every caress of their lips. His hands sliding down Sam’s body and up under his shirts to caress soft skin greedily, clutching him even closer. Every pleasured moan ripped from his throat telling without words just how much he’d missed Sam.

Sam knew they only had a half hour, maybe forty-five minutes at best and he really did need to fill Dean in on a whole lot but at the moment all he cared about was the sounds coming from Dean and how it made him feel. He stripped off his flannel and they barely broke their kiss long enough for Sam to get his thermal shirt and t-shirt off. The next thing he knew he was down on the mattress, Dean on top of him, Dean's roaming hands like fire on his skin, running his hands over Sam's back, pinching then rubbing Sam's nipples, sliding his hand underneath his jeans and shorts squeezing his ass.

Sam was groaning and gasping into Dean's mouth, sucking on Dean's tongue, scraping his nails along Dean's back, squeezing Dean's ass, and getting so hard so fast he thought he was going to end up light-headed from the sudden diversion of blood. He rubbed against Dean, groaning. Dean smile was practically evil as he broke their kiss then planted that hot mouth of his on Sam's left nipple. Sam had to swallow his groan as he arched into that experienced mouth. Dean's hand came out from beneath the cloth of Sam's jeans and Dean cupped and groped Sam's already hard member through the front of the pants.

"Oh, God, Dean," Sam whispered, practically bucking under him. His touch was electrifying, and his mouth was a titillating machine working Sam's nipple hard enough Sam thought he was trying to suck milk out of it.

He hardly noticed his jeans come undone until his cock was out and tenting his under shorts and Dean's hand slipped underneath to wrap around it.

Less than two or three minutes ago wasn't he at the top of the stairs? How the hell was he already on the mattress, hard as a rock, already beginning to sweat? He wanted to be driving Dean as crazy and started to push himself up and over, intent of getting Dean under him so he could rub his cock against Dean, so he could be sucking on Dean's nipple and digging his fingernails into Dean's back. He'd barely started the move when Dean tightened his hold on Sam's dick almost painfully and switched over to Sam's other nipple, his free hand drifting up to the still firmly erect left nipple his mouth had just abandoned. Dean pressed his weight down on Sam and as soon as Dean began stroking his hard shaft again, any thought of moving flitted out of Sam's mind like a leaf on a breeze. A hurricane level breeze.

"Suck me off Dean," Sam begged. "Please," he keened, already bucking up against the man. "I need your mouth on me. Oh fuck," Sam gasped as Dean sucked hard on Sam's nipple and pinched the other one almost painfully.

"I'm yours…" Sam breathed. "Anything…Do me any way you want. Just fucking do me…"

It was like he couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t touch, couldn’t taste, enough of Sam’s flesh to satisfy him. It was like he’d been starving for days and Sam was suddenly a buffet laid out in front of him for him to devour at will. But he’d never hungered quite so much for anything as simple as food or water like he hungered for Sam now.

Dean caught Sam’s hard erect nipple between his teeth. Tugging on the firm nub gently and flicking it with his tongue before he finally released the tortured slightly swollen flesh and looked up at Sam again. Giving the younger man’s hard weeping flesh one final firm stroke before slipping his hand out of Sam’s underwear, and releasing his other nipple, sliding both of his hands possessively up and down the length of the other man’s body before settling on his hips.

“Anything.” Dean echoed, his fingers hooking in the waistband of both Sam’s jeans and shorts, tugging both down the younger man’s hips as he kissed and licked his way lower. His tongue mapping out every scar and curve of muscle down Sam’s chest and abdomen, darting briefly in his bellybutton, before continuing down to the younger man’s crotch.

Bypassing Sam’s thick firm arousal pointing up towards his belly for the moment to nuzzle the soft heavy sacks beneath it, sucking one ball into his mouth and then the other, teasing. Glancing up at the younger man with a small smile before finally dragging his tongue slowly up the length of Sam’s hot shaft from base to tip. Closing his lips greedily around the head, sucking and moaning at the taste of the younger man’s dripping precome as his tongue flicked over the slit, swirling around the crown, and rubbing against the sensitive spot just underneath the head.

Finally giving in to the younger man’s pleas, Dean took Sam’s cock deeper, letting it fill his mouth, his throat, swallowing him down all the way despite Sam’s size easily. Moaning around the thick hard shaft as he buried his nose in the soft curls at the base of the younger man’s cock. His only desire to give Sam all the pleasure he could as his hand’s settled on the younger man’s hips and urged him to fuck up into his mouth.

Sam just wanted his touch. He wanted Dean's very essence draped over him and wrapped around him, keeping him safe from whatever might be out there. He wanted Dean's tongue in his mouth, or working his nipples, or licking and kissing and sucking on him where ever the hell Dean damn well pleased. If Dean wanted his cock buried deeply in Sam's ass, Sam wanted it too. He couldn't explain his hunger for Dean's touch and he didn't try. He simply wanted Dean. Everything that was Dean. And he wanted Dean to give himself over as readily as he wanted to give himself over to Dean.

The end to the torturous pleasure of Dean attacking his nipples, of Dean's grip on his member made him whine with discontent, then Dean's hands ran over him and Sam's skin positively thrummed under Dean's hands. When Dean repeated Sam's words back to him, he shivered. God, yes, anything. Anything, so long as Dean stayed with him. He heard the possessiveness in Dean's voice, the confirmation that Sam was his and his alone.

"Yours. Only yours," Sam whispered and knew it was true. He couldn't imagine ever wanting another one's touch on him again. Sam ran his fingers through Dean's hair.

When Dean exposed him to the cool air, his skin prickled and he held his breath, waiting to see what Dean wanted, ready to spread his legs, ready to give Dean whatever he desired. Dean's hot breath and wet tongue caressed and marked his body in a way no one could see but Sam could feel. There were no runes, no magical means, nothing but the hunger they felt for one another.

Sam thought he was going to lose it when Dean didn't touch his so hard and ready cock. Sam gasped when Dean sucked his balls into his mouth. He thought his eyes were going to roll back into his head.

"Dean, oh, fuck Dean….please, touch me…" Sam begged.

Dean's tongue finally, slowly slid up his cock and then his mouth took in the tip but only the tip of his needy flesh. Sam moaned trying to press into Dean's mouth but Dean would have none of it, licking him, sucking him, but leaving the shaft untouched.

"Please Dean," Sam gasped, his pleasure reaching his pain threshold as Dean continued to tease him.

Suddenly his whole cock was in Dean's hot silken mouth. Not just part way but fully. Not even Jessica had been able to take him in that far. No one ever had. Dean's moans vibrated along the length of Sam's member and with the small urging from Dean he couldn't have stopped it if he wanted to. He pulled out a little then pushed back in, feeling Dean's throat adjust with each thrust, feeling Dean's tongue run along underside his cock, feeling Dean's lips pull and suck at him. He wrapped his fingers in Dean's short hair and pumped harder, trying to keep his groans and grunts soft enough not to draw the attention of the hunters upstairs.

Dean could have had anything from Sam and instead, he gave Sam what Sam had asked for. That made Sam even hotter, knowing that this was what Dean wanted most. To give Sam what he wanted.

"Mine…" Sam groaned as he thrust harder wrapping his fingers tighter in Dean's hair. "You're mine…" Sam said possessively. Just let anyone try to take his brother, his lover, from him.

Dean groaned an obscene needy sound when Sam started to thrust between his lips. He relaxed his throat to take his brother fully into his mouth with every single deep thrust, keeping his lips tight around the thick full shaft as he sucked, his tongue caressing every inch of the beautiful hot flesh. He worked the younger man using every skill he’d ever learned in order to please him. Ignoring his own arousal, his cock heavy, leaking inside his jeans, and almost painful trapped within the tight denim. His only desire was to please Sam. To give his brother all the pleasure he could, and more.

He caressed Sam’s thighs, his stomach, his ass, everywhere he could reach. Squeezing the firm round cheeks, occasionally letting his fingers drift between them. Teasing over the younger man’s hot sensitive hole, remembering exactly how good Sam had felt wrapped around him, so tight, so hot.

Dean looked up, watching Sam’s beautiful face etched in ecstasy through heavy lidded eyes. Feeling almost drunk on his own pleasure he received doing this for Sam, even though his cock was never touched. He could come just from sucking his brother off. Feeling the hot splash of the younger man’s seed against the back of his throat, the taste of him filling his mouth… Dean groaned as he worked him harder, trying to bring them both to that point.

Mine…

Sam’s words, the way the younger man clutched at him so possessively, he wasn’t sure why it shocked him so much. Almost enough to make him stop what he was doing. Almost. He was trained too well for that however, and only worked Sam’s cock harder.

Mine…

Maybe it surprised him because it was similar to… his father. When Dean was in this position, giving him pleasure, his master, his father, touching him, owning him, giving pain, sometimes pleasure, taking whatever he wished even if Dean didn’t want to give it. But his wants, his desires, didn’t matter. He belonged to Azazel, body and soul. He was his…

Mine…

Sam said it like he really did belong to the younger man. No other. Like Sam believed it… and Dean was shocked how much he wanted to believe it too. How much he wished he were Sam’s. That Sam was his master, and not…

For now, like this, he was Sam’s. As long as he wore these chains he belonged to Sam. As long as they were like this, Dean didn’t care whether he was a prisoner or a slave. As long as he was Sam’s…

The way Dean took him in so deep, the way Dean's tongue seemed to be exactly where it needed to be at exactly the right moment had Sam in the throes of pure ecstasy. Dean's hot wet lips tightening, releasing, caressing his cock. He had had blow jobs. For his nineteenth birthday his buddies had paid no small sum for a high end hooker to supposedly give him the blow job from hell. She was an amateur.

No matter his pace Dean seemed to match it, and yet seemed to be able to control his pace. Dean would suck and his cheeks would surround Sam's shaft as Dean's tongue played along Sam's well leaking slit. That tongue would dive into the slit, flatten along the head, wrap around the crown and tighten and pull and rub the sensitive spot. Sam's head lolled back. Nothing, not ever, came close to how perfect this blow job was. The only time he had ever had anything better was when Dean was fucking him--was it only yesterday?

Dean's hands ravaged Sam, sliding over his body, slight squeezes here and there as if marking discreet parts of him with his mere touch, every touch bringing with it the essence of desired possession. Dean's pure pleasure-filled groans sent tingles through Sam.

He didn't think it was possible but Dean worked him harder still when Sam declared Dean as his own. Sam had no idea how he hadn't come yet, how Dean was keeping him on that knife edge but he was.

"Oh fuck Dean," Sam panted pumping harder still.

Sam moaned loudly, too loudly he feared and desperately grabbed for the nearest thing within reach. He grabbed hold of one of his discarded shirts and stuffed part of it in his mouth, allowing him to make the sounds he wanted, he needed, to, and still not be heard by those upstairs.

When Dean's fingers again brushed over Sam's still tender hole, Sam suddenly wished Dean would be inside him, filling him, but he didn't want that beautiful unbelievable mouth to leave his cock. If Dean's own cock couldn't be inside him, Dean's fingers could be. Sam loosed his hold of Dean's hair and reached blindly for Dean's hand, encouraging Dean to go where he obviously wanted to. He knew he was so near coming... if Dean would only let him.

When Sam reached down to grasp his hand, guiding his fingers to where the younger man wanted him to be, Dean understood immediately. Groaning obscenely around his brother’s cock, Dean didn’t hesitate giving Sam what he wanted. Letting two of his fingers, already slick with the younger man’s own come, carefully push past the tight ring of muscle guarding Sam’s entrance into his body. The tight velvet heat surrounding his fingers immediately making his own cock throb agonizingly harder just imagining that tight velvet heat wrapped around his aching member.

As he sucked his brother’s cock deep into his throat, Dean pushed his fingers deep, curling them and rubbing that all too sensitive place hidden within. He slid his fingers in and out of the younger man slowly at first. Letting Sam once more get used to the sensation of having him inside his body before he picked up the pace. Circling and scissoring his fingers, always making sure to pay special attention to that tight bundle of nerves, before sliding a third finger in alongside the others.

Dean’s moans of pleasure vibrated around Sam’s cock as he fucked Sam with his fingers, letting Sam fuck his mouth at the same time. Concentrating only on giving the other man all the pleasure he could, completely ignoring his own, but at the same time gaining more pleasure than he could ever believe without a single touch to his cock. Single mindedly concentrating on bringing Sam over the edge, his only real regret not being able to hear the younger man scream his name in passion while Dean swallowed his brother’s come.

Sam would have winced at the burn as Dean's finger's slid in to his tender hole but Dean seemed to focus a little harder, if that were even possible, on Sam's cock and any sound of complaint was buried in his groans. When Dean hit his prostate with his fingers Sam arched and whimpered and practically screamed into the shirt stuffed into his mouth.

That damned slow pace of Dean's. His fingers working him slowly, touching him inside where he never thought he would ever want to be touched. But he did. Each time Dean touched that sweet spot Sam arched burying his dick as deeply as possible in his brother's hot mouth, a mouth that was giving him unbelievable head. When the third finger came inside him it didn't hurt like it had before, it felt more natural, if it was natural to have your brother's fingers up your ass. Dean stretched his tight circle of muscle and somehow Sam managed to relax that muscle, tightening every time he thrust into his brother's mouth, then releasing as he pulled out.

Dean increased the pace just a fraction more. Let him come, for Chrissakes Sam begged in his mind and he pumped harder and harder as Dean licked and sucked. He felt Dean's fingers press hard and sudden on his prostate and stay there, giving little pushes into the nerves and Sam was in so much pleasure it hurt. He screamed Dean's name and whimpered at the waves of fire going through him and Dean might as well have been clamping his hand around the base of Sam's dick. He couldn't come. The waves passing through him seemed to lock him up in a writhing mass of agonizing pleasure and he just couldn't come.

He was ready to cry, to beg when Dean eased the pressure just a little and Sam was able to give another hard deep thrust, feeling everything inside him tighten into a ball. With a slight increase of pressure on his prostate again, Sam screamed his brother's name into the shirt, still arching and tight but finally everything bound inside him released. He came so hard he thought his brain might be being ejected along with his spunk. Dean kept up the pulsing pressure inside him and Sam couldn't do anything but thrust again and spew more into Dean's throat, again and again and again as he moaned Dean's name over and over. The sweat poured off of Sam as the pulses rippled through him. When Dean's fingers finally released the pressure on his prostate, Sam lay gasping, still seeing sparkles in front of his eyes. Dean's little push back into his prostate made Sam whimper and his cock jerked in Dean's mouth. There was nothing left in him but Dean tried to suck every last little tiny thing out anyhow. His rapidly softening cock made him tug on Dean's hair as he struggled to lift his head to look at his brother. He wanted that mouth on his and he pulled gently, hoping Dean understood because he wasn't sure he had the breath for words. He found he was wrong as he panted out, "You..if you…haven't…come…stretched…can take you in me."

He really wasn't sure he could handle anymore stimuli, and he really did need to do something important with Dean, tell him something, but the blood hadn't really returned to his brain yet. He couldn't for the life of him remember what he needed to do other than offer to Dean the chance to fuck him if Dean wanted to.

When Sam came, so hard it almost choked him, and screaming into the shirt that the younger man had stuffed into his mouth, that was all it took to push Dean over the edge at the same time. His throat aching as he swallowed every thick burst hot come that his brother shot down his throat eagerly. His own dick pulsing over and over, almost at the same time as his brother’s, and making a hot sticky mess in his jeans that he knew would feel damn uncomfortable really soon, but Dean hardly gave a flying fuck at the moment.

All he cared around was how Sam’s body shook and writhed beneath him with ecstasy, his tight hole fluttering around his fingers, as he continued to ease them in and out of the tight clenching muscle. How his cock continued to twitch and throb in his mouth and he swallowed and licked every last delicious drop of thick spunk that leaked from it like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted in his life.

With Sam’s increasingly insistent tugging on his hair, Dean finally released his brother’s softening cock with an almost regretful sigh. Letting his tongue play lovingly over the sensitive head another moment before he let Sam drag him up. Laying his body heavily over the younger man’s as he pressed his lips to Sam, teasing his lips open with his tongue and sharing Sam’s taste with him with a low moan. His fingers continuing to play gently within the younger man’s body, even knowing how sensitive and sore Sam must feel right now, unwilling to break that final contact. He simply loved being able to touch Sam so intimately. In a way no one else ever had.

Pulling back from the kiss with a sigh, Dean propped himself up on one elbow to look down at the beautiful flushed young man between them with a tender smile. Shaking his head a little at Sam’s offer to let him fuck him.

“I’m fine. I’ll take a rain check though.” Dean’s grin widened, “and you owe me a new pair of underwear.”

Sam groaned softly as Dean finally let his cock slip from his mouth, but not before Dean gave him a last tease around his crown. Dean's fingers still toyed inside of him, sending shudders through him with every brush across the nerve bundle, causing small jerks and thrusts and pushes against Dean's fingers. He liked to think he was in shape but he knew he was going to ache like he had spent an entire day in the gym. His muscles felt like jelly. When Dean crawled up his body letting his weight press Sam into the mattress and yet still his fingers slowly pumped inside of him Sam couldn't help the small arching and upward pressing against his brother. Dean lips touched his but Sam was still so caught up in the continuing aftershocks, Dean had to lick his way into Sam's mouth. Sam briefly wondered when the hell he had pulled his shirt free of his mouth but that thought was lost when Dean's tongue entered his mouth at the same time as Dean gave a small push inside Sam. Sam jerked up against his brother and he could feel his brother's smile as he whimpered into Dean's mouth. Sam wrapped his arms so tightly around Dean his brother probably couldn't breath. He tasted himself on Dean's tongue, tasted Dean's own flavor as well, and still shuddered and arched under his brother's skillful hands.

Sam's kiss was almost desperate, sucking on Dean's tongue as he tried to rub against Dean. He whimpered again when Dean finally broke the kiss but Dean's fingers still slid in and out of him. Reluctantly he let his brother go. He still panted, his head lolling as Dean's fingers teased him.

"Oh, Jesus Dean, either fuck me or stop," Sam begged, pressing against Dean's hand and clenching around Dean's fingers.

Sam ignored Dean's words and pulled Dean's grinning mouth back down on his own, moaning as he slipped his hand inside Dean's pants and felt the cooling come. He ran his fingers along Dean's cock returning the tease as he began pumping Dean, leaving Dean bound in his jeans. Two could damned well play the game he thought as he thumbed Dean's slit. The come slicked his hand and he couldn't resist pulling his hand out, licking his fingers with an obscene groan and then plastering his mouth back on Dean's before putting his hand back down Dean's pants.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh softly at Sam’s demand before the younger man pulled him back down into a deep kiss. His amusement abruptly silenced in a deep moan that escaped into his brother’s mouth as Sam’s hand slid down the front of his pants, taking his soft, yet overly sensitive, cock and stroking him purposefully.

The elder man couldn’t help but groan, his hips jerking forward into Sam’s fist, as the younger man played with him. Teasing his slit and smearing the sticky mess in his pants all over his cock and Sam’s fingers. It was so damned dirty and hot he felt his dick twitch in the younger man’s hand even though Dean wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get it up again so soon.

Dean was panting heavily, staring down at the younger man in near awe when Sam finally released his lips and pulled his hand out of his jeans. Only to groan again as he watched the younger man clean his fingers free of his come, watching Sam licking away the traces of his spilled seed, that perfect mouth curling around his fingers and sucking greedily, probably one of the hottest things he’d ever seen in his life.

He all but swooned when the younger man pulled him back down into a kiss, sharing the taste of himself while the younger man licked the remaining flavor of his own release from his mouth. His cock already half hard again by the time Sam stuck his hand back down his pants. Oh yes, he was definitely going to be taking Sam up on his offer now.

Dean removed his fingers from the younger man’s tight hole and pushed himself up onto his knees with a grunt that was half complaint and half desperation. Wasting no more time, he popped open the button of his jeans and shoved them down to the middle of his thighs. He took his cock in hand and stroked himself in an almost punishing rhythm. Despite his initial doubts he was hard again in seconds, smearing his come liberally over his entire length, and he released his almost painfully sensitive flesh with a moan.

“Turn over.” He ordered, barely giving Sam the chance to obey, as he grasped the younger man’s hips and rolled the other man over onto his front. Pulling him up so that Sam was on his knees, he lined up with the younger man’s hole and began to push his cock inside.

He really had just wanted to return the favor of torturing Dean the way Dean continued to torture him with his fingers inside him, but he felt Dean growing harder in his hand. Dean's little thrusts told him he was succeeding and made him grin, especially when he swallowed Dean's deep groan. Dean had to be as sensitized as he was, and knowing Dean was still bound up in those teasingly tight pants made him so hot. When the hell had he found bondage of any kind so damned exciting? And fuck, how the hell was he getting hard again? He had just had the mother of all releases, the blow job from hell, and yet his cock was getting hard? This was just so fucked up, so excitingly, exquisitely fucked up beyond belief. And he was getting it on with his older brother who was in chains, who was thrusting into his come-slicked hand, and it was so very very wrong. And Bobby and Pastor Jim were probably quietly talking upstairs, having no clue John Winchester's sons had it so bad for each other they were doing it hard and heavy right below them. …And that made Sam even hotter. When the hell had he become such a pervert, too?

Dean finally removed his fingers from inside Sam and Sam wasn't certain if he was relieved or upset. He felt …empty. He was sore. He was damned sore, but he couldn't stop his whine even though he had asked Dean to stop. He didn't want Dean to stop kissing him though dammit. Okay, so they needed to talk. They would, but when Dean pushed himself away from Sam, Sam almost panicked. No, no, no! His hand slipped from Dean's pants with protest. He wanted Dean back on top of him, holding him down on the mattress, finger-fucking him, rubbing against him, kissing him, and he wanted Dean fucking into his hand. He wasn't ready to stop yet!

He watched as Dean popped his jeans open and pushed his come soaked pants down to his knees. Watched as Dean jacked himself hard so fast it had to hurt, and if the look on Dean's face was any indication, it did. He couldn't do anything but watch in fascination as Dean's cock hardened and swelled and Sam felt his own respond. Dean's order only began to register and he started to move when his brother all but flipped him over himself. He pulled Sam's hips up and to him and Sam felt the tip of Dean's cock begin to press into him.

None of this slow bullshit. Not this time. Yeah, it was probably going to hurt like a bitch at first, burn like hell, but Dean had had Sam in throes of pleasure and unable to do anything but writhe and whimper like a girl. Sam knew he was pretty well stretched out and he just hoped he was stretched out enough. He was going to have a little control this time, dammit.

He pressed back sharply on Dean's firm cock, biting back his cry as he felt Dean suddenly fill him, felt Dean's sac pressed against his ass. Dean's own startled cry made Sam wince and he grabbed his discarded thermal shirt and tossed it over his shoulder at his brother wordlessly. He took up his own flannel shirt again and used it to quiet what he knew was going to be loud cries otherwise. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt like a mother-fucker and he really hoped he hadn't torn anything, mostly because that meant they wouldn't be able to do this again at the next opportunity. Of course, he was going to be so sore after this, he wasn't sure when he would be able to do it again. Hell, he just hoped he could get up the stairs after this, but he didn't care.

He clenched down on Dean's member, letting himself get adjusted, letting the pain and burn subside. Dean wasn't going anywhere. Not in, not out, not until Sam was ready.

Dean was in no way prepared for Sam’s sudden movement, shoving his hips back and impaling himself on his cock in one swift motion. The elder man couldn’t have contained the sound of surprise and pleasure that was ripped from his throat if he’d tried. The pleasure was so intense it was painful, and left him feeling dizzy and shaken to the core. He could barely think. Nothing had ever felt like this, and Dean knew he’d take any amount of pain if only to remain like this with Sam always…

His brother’s shirt smacking him upside the head barely a second later made Dean laugh in spite of himself and he draped himself over the younger man’s back with a low moan. He panted heavily against the other man’s sweat damp skin, raining soft kisses down the back of Sam’s neck, as he tried to regain some sense of control over his body.

Though it wasn’t easy the way Sam shuddered and clenched around his cock. So fucking tight, Dean couldn’t help but moan, sinking his teeth into the muscle of the younger man’s shoulder. Wrapping his arms tightly around the other man’s waist, letting his hands roam freely over the sweat slicked abs and chest, as he remained perfectly still inside the younger man. Allowing them both to adjust. Letting Sam tell him when he was ready.

The weight of Dean draped across him sent a shudder through Sam. It felt so very good to have him there, it felt so very good to have Dean inside of him. He wished the moment could last, and he was tempted to hold Dean there for as long as he could. He felt Dean's chest heave as he blew warm breath across Sam's sweat-soaked skin.

Sam wasn't prepared for for the soft kisses along his neck and when Dean bit hard into his shoulder, he echoed Dean's groan and threw his head back, feeling his cock jump and somehow, he was already beginning to leak come again. Dean's arms wrapped around him, his hands wandering all over him left trails of fire over his skin. As always, it seemed, Dean did just what Sam wanted, just what Sam needed. He stayed pushed up inside him, staying still, not trying to force Sam to his will.

Sam sighed in contentment. Dean was and always would be his. Maybe always had been. Maybe had always been the one thing missing from his life that could make him complete. At this instant in time he felt complete, he felt joined with Dean. He felt the flow of power bubble inside of him, but this time it wasn't a flare of anger or fear. This time is was a warmth that engulfed him and stretched out to swallow his brother. Pure love, pure happiness, pure contentment. As insane as it seemed, he couldn't remember feeling quite this way ever before.

Sam savored it all. He felt his insides relax around Dean, felt as if Dean was meant to be there and Sam was meant to sheath him. It no longer hurt like it had and he slowly tightened his muscles inside him, rolling the tightening wave along Dean's hard shaft. He was ready. He was definitely ready and as perfect as the last time had been, as slow and careful as Dean had been to make it perfect, that wasn't really what Sam wanted this time. This time he wanted it dirty.

He relaxed that ring of muscle clenching Dean and twisted his head, spitting his shirt out for the moment. He grinned at his brother, nothing but pure lust in his eyes.

"Fuck me hard Dean," he whispered. "I want to feel you for days. Fuck me harder than you've ever fucked anyone." His voice roughened and it grew throaty and husky, "Make me yours."

Dean loved the sounds of pleasure Sam made and the way the younger man arched against him. His tongue laved at the little indentations his teeth had left on the younger man’s shoulder. He sucked on the fragile skin, nibbling, sucking again. His efforts leaving an increasingly reddening mark of passion on Sam’s flesh he knew the other man would carry for days, and that knowledge only made him hotter if that were possible.

Still he didn’t move, his hips remained still, their bodies flushed together, his cock buried to the hilt in that exquisite tight ass as he waited for Sam to relax. Waited for the younger man to tell him he was ready for more. It didn’t matter how long it took, didn’t matter how much he ached, and throbbed deep inside of Sam, He would have stayed like this forever if Sam asked him to.

The ripple of power Dean felt inside Sam, flowing out from the younger man, surrounding them both shocked him and he couldn’t contain his soft startled gasp against Sam’s neck. A part of him was worried. He wanted to warn Sam, because this power was not to be taken lightly. It was something that the other man needed to learn to control, not the other way around, it was dangerous for Sam to be letting it loose randomly right now. But at the same time he was in awe because he’d never felt anything like this before.

It was warm, soft, like the gentlest rays of sunlight caressing his skin. Winding around them, flowing through him, like it was searching for something and yet it wasn’t invasive. In fact, nothing had ever felt more right in his life and Dean couldn’t help the sigh of pleasure and contentment that escaped his lips, pressing more soft kisses to any inch of Sam’s flesh he could reach. Letting his fingers map out every line and curve of muscle on the younger man’s chest, stomach, and thighs.

As good as it felt, it also seemed almost a poor substitute. He wanted to reach out and touch Sam with more than just his hands. To answer that gentle searching warmth with his own, but he couldn’t. He was trapped and he ached deep inside in a way he couldn’t explain, missing that warmth like a piece of himself had been ripped away leaving an open bleeding wound.

Sam’s demand to fuck him as he felt the younger man’s body relax and push his hips back against him made Dean practically growl low in his throat. He grasped Sam’s hips hard, holding him steady, as he pulled his cock almost all the way out. Leaving only the head of his shaft buried inside the other man teasingly for a moment before he snapped his hips forward again hard, just like his brother asked. Quickly picking up a pace that was almost brutal, but it felt amazing. Pulling Sam back against him every time he thrust forward, angling his hips to make sure he hit that place inside his brother with every deep thrust. The pleasure that washed over him every time he thrust hard into the younger man’s body almost making up for that strange missing feeling inside of him. Being joined together with Sam physically, at least, though he wanted so much more.

“You feel so good, Sam… Sammy… so good…” He whispered, burying his face against the younger man’s neck to muffle his moans of pleasure.

He felt the tension, the predator, return in his brother and it reached deep inside of Sam, touching a place buried in his soul. If it had been anyone other than his Dean, he would have been afraid. He heard the sound Dean made, like a guard dog finally let off its leash and Sam practically trembled in anticipation. He returned the shirt to his mouth because he had no doubt Dean was going to make him scream, to make him shout, to make him his, just as he asked.

His brother's fingers dug into his hips painfully, almost bruising them. Sam gasped as Dean pulled out, just the tip still inside Sam. Sam grunted and threw his head back as Dean buried himself deeply inside Sam again, hitting his prostate and sending a ripple through Sam. Then Dean began to fuck him, to truly deeply fuck him. Sam felt the bruises forming on his hips as Dean pulled Sam back against him with every hard thrust forward. It felt good, so very good. It was harsh, it echoed in him with the pain he felt inside over all the loss he had experienced in such a few short days. It ripped into that loss, making it bloody, digging into it as surely as the demon had dug into Dean's shoulder with the knife. The pleasure washed over top of that bloody aching wound and with each wave, Sam cried out louder, but his voice was lost in the cloth he had wadded into his mouth. The sharp hit on the nerve bundle, the feeling of Dean buried as deeply as physically possible, the hard yank on his hips, it was a kaleidoscope of emotions and feelings and Sam let them spin their way through him.

He would never feel Jessica in his arms again.

He shuddered under Dean.

He would never be inside her the way Dean was now inside him.

He groaned as the fresh spike of thrill rinsed over him.

He had found his brother alive.

He moaned and arched against Dean.

He had never told his father and left Dean to the demon bastard.

He felt the emptiness as Dean pulled out, then the full exquisite pleasure as Dean re-entered him.

His brother almost killed their father.

He moaned as Dean whispered into his neck.

Sam almost killed his father with the news.

He rolled he head toward those lips at his neck brushing his head against his brother's.

He had demon blood in him, just like his brother.

He pushed himself harder against Dean, demanding more.

He was a sick pervert who got hot over seeing his brother in chains, over wanting to suck him off, wanting his brother inside him, wanting to kiss and fuck and make love to his brother forever. Wanting no other lover ever again.

Dean's pace increased and Sam cried and moaned, winced and whimpered as Dean claimed every part of him. Dean's own sounds thrummed over his skin.

He knew Dean wouldn't understand his tears so he hid them from his brother. They had nothing and everything to do with Dean. He embraced each hard, punishing, pleasure-filled thrust and let that which was his brother fill the gaping emptiness within him.

It was the exact opposite of when they’d fucked the first time. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was hard, fast, and almost punishing. It was almost more painful than pleasurable as sensitive as they both were. Both of them pushed to the limits of their endurance. Both of them close to breaking….

And it was so damned perfect. Just as perfect as the first time. Maybe even more so. Because this was the way Sam wanted it. Because it was what they both needed, marking each other, owning each other, for this moment in time belonging to each other, and no one else.

With his every deep thrust, he knew Sam would feel him for days. His mouth and hands left bruises of passion on Sam’s flesh like brands. He fucked Sam hard. Harder than he’d ever fucked anyone. Savoring every shudder that rippled through the younger man’s body, every groan, every muffled cry of pleasure… Knowing he was giving Sam that pleasure was all that mattered to him. He wanted to give Sam more. He wanted to give him everything.

He thrust deep into the younger man and stayed there, groaning at the exquisite painful pleasure he felt being buried so fully in his brother. He pulled Sam back against him, sitting up and pulling the younger man up with him so that Sam was sitting in his lap, impaled upon his cock. He tugged the shirt Sam had been gagging himself with out of the younger man’s mouth, urging Sam to twist around just enough so that he could kiss his brother hard.

Holding Sam tightly to his chest he thrust a few more times up into the younger man’s exquisitely tight body while he swallowed Sam’s moans greedily. Only breaking their kiss when the need for air forced them apart, panting against the younger man’s lips. “Ride me, baby. Ride my cock.”

Then he covered Sam’s mouth with his hand to silence the younger man as he started to fuck Sam again. Reaching around the other man to grasp Sam’s leaking cock, stroking him hard. Forcing himself to hold back even though it felt like his orgasm was approaching with the speed and force of a freight train. Waiting for Sam to find his pleasure first.

When Dean made that final deep thrust into him, he expected Dean to come. He didn't want that yet, but he expected it. Instead Dean pulled him suddenly upright and Sam's breath caught at the shift and change of pressure points of Dean's member inside him and just how the hell could Dean have gotten deeper inside? Sam was certain Dean had and he moaned his agony, his pleasure, unsure which was the stronger.

His shirt was ripped from his mouth and he inhaled sharply. He would never be able to stay quiet! Dammit why had Dean done that? Because he could make Sam squirm and watch as Sam tried to keep his moans silent? If so, his brother was a bastard because all Sam wanted to do was to keep shifting his weight and enjoy all the new feelings, moaning and groaning with the throes of pleasure/pain he was in. There was no doubt in his mind he was going to feel Dean for days, just as he asked. But now the shirt that was his gag was out of reach and he froze. If he moved he wasn't sure he could stop the sounds coming from him. He was going to have to, but he was worried he couldn't.

His brother holding him tightly against his chest was heaven and he wanted to stay there sitting on Dean's cock and held in his arms. He bit hard on his lip to keep his moan silent as Dean shifted in him again, his brother's lips sliding along his neck, his tongue flicking out along his jaw. He knew what Dean wanted and twisted enough to allow their lips to lock. He let his moan out into Dean, knowing it would be swallowed in that hot velvet mouth. His tongue shot inside his brother's and chased Dean's tongue, kissing back as fervently as Dean kissed him. It felt so good, so dirty, to be sitting like this on his brother. He was ready to squirm on Dean's cock, giving them both pleasure, when Sam's eyes widened as Dean thrust into him and he moaned loudly into Dean's mouth at the unbelievable feeling.

He didn't want to break their kiss and when he had, Sam felt suddenly lost at Dean's request, not really sure how to do what Dean asked at first. And then Dean's hand was across his mouth to silence his cries. It struck both a small cord of fear in him and thrilled him at the same time causing him to shudder. He played his tongue in the hollow of Dean's palm, flicking and tasting. He was completely at his brother's mercy in so many ways and he loved every last moment of it.

He practically screamed into his brother's hand when Dean began to stroke him, his whole body tensing and jerking as he arched and Dean's cock inside him pressed in new places. He would have been shouting Dean's name, begging him to stop, or not stop, he wasn't sure, if he could have made anything beyond unintelligible sound. He let his head fall back against his brother as all of the feelings overpowered him.

He felt Dean thrust a little, nudging him into motion. Dean wanted him to do this and he wanted to give his brother whatever he wanted. He began to to try, to pump, to ride and Dean stroked him and thrust into him and it was fucking unbelievable. He moaned into Dean's hand again and again, growing louder in his moans, his sounds of pleasure muffled by Dean's flesh. Each thrust seemed deeper and deeper inside him, each caress of Dean's hand on his member exquisite pain. Their rhythm increased and Sam wasn't sure his system could stand much more stimulation.

He screamed into Dean's palm as he felt everything inside him draw up and his aching, overworked balls readied themselves for release. He rode Dean desperately, harder and harder, until there was no holding back and he shouted as his come shot free in a white thick rope. He felt Dean tighten his hold on him as Dean pulsed inside him, Dean's own cry buried in his back as Dean bit into his shoulder. Sam felt Dean's come fill him and it made him moan again. Sam continued to ride Dean, as they shuddered and pulsed in unity with one another and his brother continued to stroke and work his cock. Sam wished he could shout and scream Dean's name with no one to hear him. He wanted his brother to know just how good it all fucking felt.

He finally sagged against Dean and would have collapsed if not for his brother's strong arms around him, holding him up, just the way he knew it should be.

Dean groaned low in his throat at the feeling of the younger man’s tongue swiping over his palm, Sam’s hot panting breaths, his cries of pleasure, all muffled by his hand covering his brother’s mouth. He could do anything he wanted to Sam. Anything, and there was nothing the younger man could do. He couldn’t even call for help. That kind of power both thrilled him and almost frightened him, but Sam’s trust was absolute. Sam arched back into his chest, his head resting on his shoulder, lifting himself up and down on his cock while he thrust into the younger man. Whimpering and practically screaming while he stroked Sam’s cock. He gave himself over completely. Trusting Dean to hold him up, to keep him silent, to give him pleasure, everything.

“Sam… fuck, so good, Sam… Sam…” Dean whispered his brother’s name over and over into the back of the younger man’s neck as he fucked his brother faster, harder, if it was possible. Dean gave himself completely over to the younger man. He was as much a slave to the passion between them as he was controlling it. He felt the tension building in the younger man’s muscles. He felt his own cock, so impossibly hard, start to jerk inside his brother’s body, his balls drawing up tight. So close. So damn close.

He held onto Sam tighter. So tight he knew there would be a slight imprint of his hand over Sam’s mouth when he finally removed it. As he kept the younger man as silent as possible when Sam practically screamed behind it. He muffled his own loud moans of pleasure by biting into the meat of Sam’s shoulder, so hard it was a wonder he didn’t taste blood in his mouth. Barely letting himself breathe as he felt his brother’s cock pulse hard in his hand, Sam’s hot come drenching his fingers. His own cock releasing so hard inside the younger man, it left him feeling almost dizzy.

It seemed to never end, the pleasure, almost too intense to bear and yet he never wanted it to end. But it did, and he didn’t know whether to feel relieved or to mourn its loss as it began to fade. Groaning as he felt his own come dripping out of his brother around himself as he softened inside his brother, coating his balls and thighs.

They continued to move together. Riding out every wave, every shudder, every pulse, echoing every moan the other made. Always together. One. They came down from the high together. Sam resting heavily against his chest while he leaned his forehead against the younger man’s neck and shoulder. He released his brother’s spent cock to hold his brother steady around his waist instead. His heart still beating so fast he was sure Sam could feel it against his back, because he could feel Sam’s. Their breaths and moans mingling, almost simultaneously, so it was difficult to know which sound came from whom.

Dean finally released Sam’s mouth, his hand petting through his brother’s sweat drenched hair as he lifted his head to kiss the younger man’s jaw, his cheek, searching out his lips.

Sam was utterly and completely spent. He thought he had ached before when Dean had played his body like a fine instrument, making Sam writhe in pleasure. This second round was almost, maybe better, than the blow job. No, it was better. Because Dean had been inside him with more than just his fingers. He didn't want to be empty, he didn't want them to be separated by anything. He felt like Dean was all he had to hold on to. He cared about the older hunters and his father, of course, but Dean was…Dean, the boy, the teenager, the young man, that had always been with him.

When Dean's hand slipped from it's firm grip over his mouth, Sam drew in a deep breath of air. "Dean," Sam moaned, "that was…you were…all perfect. Perfect."

Dean's hand running through his hair drew more soft moans and he pressed into that gentle touch. He reached over his shoulder and let his own fingers run through Dean's hair. He felt Dean's lips press kisses along his jaw and he twisted his head, capturing those lips. The kiss was soft and gentle and he was ready for soft and gentle. Their tongues stroked one another, investigated each other's mouths slowly, delicately, lovingly. Reluctantly Sam broke the kiss. It was time. He pulled himself off Dean's softened cock with a sharp hiss. He was so very sore but it was worth every moment of the ecstasy they had just experienced. If he walked funny for days, it was still worth it.

He saw the come drenching Dean's thighs and cock and eased himself down, slowly nuzzling and licking at the come. He did it carefully, wanting to make certain he didn't arouse his brother, knowing just how overly sensitized they both were. He just wanted to taste his brother and he moaned quietly as he licked at the still warm fluid. He finally ran his tongue up Dean's stomach, tasting the salty sweat mix with the flavors already on his tongue. He dragged his tongue higher, over Dean's chest until he found his brother's lips again. Wrapping his arms around his brother, he pulled Dean close, kissing him deeply. He tried to ignore the fact they were running out of time before Bobby and Jim might start to check on them. And he really did need to talk with Dean. But right now he just wanted to kiss him and be with him. For whatever moments longer he could steal, that was what he wanted.

Dean couldn’t help but smile at Sam’s soft words, the joy he felt at hearing them such so that even if he’d received no pleasure at all from what they’d shared he would have been completely satisfied. He sighed softly at the gentle fingers petting his hair, mimicking how he caressed the younger man, and Dean moaned softly again when his brother’s lips finally found his.

They kissed each other slowly, as though they had all the time in the world and no one else existed in it but them. Dean let his fingers continue to play along Sam’s body, lightly stroking his fingertips over the younger man’s chest as their tongues twined together so carefully one would think this was the first time they’d ever kissed. Taking the time to relearn every millimeter of each other’s mouths before they finally drew apart, much to the elder man’s regret.

“No, you’re perfect.” Dean whispered, a small groan escaping his lips when Sam finally eased himself up off his lap. A shudder rippling through his body as his over sensitive cock slipped free of the younger man’s body. He let his hands slide down Sam’s sides and hips warmly, prepared to pull the younger man back into his arms, but before he could, Sam bent over his lap.

Dean bit his lip to silence the loud groan that almost escaped as the younger man began licking him, combing his fingers through Sam’s hair and caressing his back. Loving the feeling of Sam’s tongue on him, the sight of him licking his seed from his skin, even though he was so sensitive that slight stimulation almost hurt more than anything.

He wrapped his arms tightly around Sam after the younger man licked a path up to his body, parting his lips once more eagerly for Sam’s kiss. One hand cupping the back of the younger man’s neck as they thoroughly explored each other’s lips again. Tasting himself now on Sam’s lips and tongue and moaning again into the younger man’s mouth.

His other hand coming to rest on Sam’s firm ass, pulling the other man even more tightly against him, not caring in the least what a fucking mess they both were. Unable to help himself, his fingers drifting down between the warm cheeks to lightly trace around the younger man’s wet hole with the barest touches.

Dean pulled him closer and Sam winced a little. It was probably going to be a week before he was walking normal and healed up enough…and then he grinned to himself…to do it all over again. He nipped a little playfully at Dean's lips. Yes he was spent and he would not be able to tolerate any level of arousal at this point without it being more pain that pleasure, but he knew Dean was right there with him. He felt Dean's fingers sneak their way down his ass and lightly touch and run around his very sore hole. This time a slight hiss escaped him. He felt Dean tense.

"Do that again and I'll do more than lick your balls, I'll give you a blow job here and now, Jerk." He put his lips back on Dean's and let Dean feel his smile, but he also slid his hand down Dean's side and shifted it to caress Dean's stomach, threatening to drop lower. Honestly, he really did hope Dean didn't do that again. He really truly ached. Next time, maybe going back to the slow method Dean took would be a good option.

He wanted to sit there with Dean and kiss him and playfully torture him as he was threatening to torture Sam, but they were going to have to tend to reality, at least for a little while. If he got those things handled, maybe he could sneak back down here and curl up with Dean for a little while and they could…cuddle. He chuckled at that thought. Big tough Dean cuddling with him.

He gave Dean a final long deep kiss then broke it with a sigh. "I know you don't want to hear it. I don't want to either, but we do have to do a few things other than fuck each other into perfect exhaustion." He ran his hand through Dean's hair, staring into his beautiful green eyes. "We have to get cleaned up. We are both a sticky mess. Then, if you can without risking trouble, help me see if I've missed covering any of our bases. We're going to stay here, hole up, and fortify this place. You can teach me how to use these abilities of mine and hopefully either I'll get good enough before the demons come down on us with a major attack, or Dad's well enough to move, and we can reconsider our options then. We've got a hot water heater to install, I got us air mattress," he paused and grinned at Dean, "so next time we're going at it, it's going to be even better. And I got you some clean clothes and other things, like a toothbrush and stuff." He kissed Dean again. "And I even got you some fresh underwear. You did say I owed you a pair. And I'll do my best to ruin those soon, too."

Dean paused instantly what he was doing when he heard the soft hiss of pain escape the younger man. Giving Sam a slightly worried look before the younger man’s “threat” made him laugh softly against Sam’s lips. When Sam’s hand drifted low on his stomach, as though to make good on that threat, another small moan escaped his lips, his skin already tingling under the touch, but he moved his hand back to the “safer” area of the younger man’s lower back. Even without him feeling just as spent and sore as Sam must feel, though admittedly Sam probably felt worse, he would not have continued. The last thing he wanted to do was cause the younger man undue discomfort.

The elder man echoed Sam’s regretful sigh when their kiss ended and the younger man went on to explain what else they had to do, other than this. Sam talking about helping him come up with defenses for the church sobered him quite quickly. That was definitely on the list of things he probably shouldn’t be doing, right up there with teaching Sam how to use his powers, and fucking him… but since the next demons that found them might be like Dumah. Coming to kill one or both of them, he had good reason to help Sam so he nodded slightly.

Though when Sam went on to describe all the other things that the younger man had brought for him, clothes, toothbrush, even an air mattress, he couldn’t help but stare at Sam in a bit of awe. None of that was anything he particularly needed to survive. Though it would definitely make him more comfortable in the long run. That Sam was thinking of his comfort at all…

Dean ran his fingers gently through the younger man’s hair, brushing his thumb across his cheek at the same time.

“I look forward to it.”

Sam furrowed his brow at the look that crossed Dean's face, as if he were shocked by the supplies Sam and Bobby had purchased. Then the way Dean had been reared, where he had been reared and who had reared him slammed into Sam. He turned his head into Dean's touch, laid his hand over Dean's, and twisted his head so he could kiss Dean's palm.

"You're not with them anymore, Dean," Sam said softly. "You're with me, with us. Dad was rough on me at times, making me train constantly, always moving us, keeping me in a life that I pretty much hated, but even so, he loved me. He always made sure I had clothes and food and a decent place to sleep. If I was hurt or sick, he took care of me. If you had been with us like you should have been, you would have had that, too.

"I'm not sure I really believed him that it was important I spend all my childhood training, but I guess he was right." He gave Dean a small smile. "These things I got for you, you deserve them all and more. You know I want you out of these chains, even if they do," and Sam blushed, "kinda turn me on. You would be out of them if you hadn't asked me to leave you in them. I understand they give you security, a reason to stay with me. That you feel you would have to follow your orders to do what ever it is you're supposed to do if you were free. I understand you don't feel enough allegiance to us to fight by our side yet." He ran his fingers over Dean's lips. "I know you would do almost anything for me, but I know you don't trust yourself enough to fight the orders they gave you. I know you can fight them. I know you can beat them and stay with me. I also know until you believe that, you can't be let out of these chains. You're willing to help us and that's a start. Even if you weren't, you're my brother. I'd do anything for you Dean. If you're cold or hungry or hurt or need something, you have to tell me. I don't want you to have to endure any of those things. Ever." He kissed Dean gently. "Now help me get up. I've got a feeling this is going to hurt."

Sam slowly climbed to his feet with Dean's aid, his breath hitching at the pain. At seeing Dean's concerned look he squeezed his shoulder. "Stop worrying. I'm sore as hell, but I expected that. I don't regret what we did. Of course come tomorrow, when I'll probably really be hurting, I might regret our enthusiasm a little. But I wouldn't change any of it."

He glanced over at his clothes scattered on the mattress. The thought of bending over at this particular moment in time to pick them up was unpleasant. He gave a wave to his clothes and a hopeful look to his brother. "Uhm, think you can help me get those?"

Thanking Dean once he held his clothes in his arms, he gingerly walked over to the bathroom. He cleaned himself up just as quickly as he could manage and worked his way into his clothes. As soon as he was dressed, he took a fresh bucket of water out to Dean so Dean could clean up. Between the pain and the exhaustion, both from the long tense day and from having Dean fuck his brains out, Sam was honestly ready to sleep for a week. That would have to wait though. Too much had to be done. If he got some aspirin and caffeine into him, he was certain he would feel much better.

As Dean took the equivalent of a sponge bath, Sam quickly ran through their plans for further fortification of the church and listened intently to the additional counter measures Dean offered.

Dean listened as Sam spoke though after only a few words he found he couldn’t meet the younger man’s eyes. He had no idea what to feel, much less say, to much of what Sam said. His life… he’d never imagined anything different for himself than the life he’d lived. Though he wasn’t foolish, he’d always known that Azazel had gotten him from somewhere, though his father had never said from where, he’d never thought of it as being taken away… being stolen… maybe from something better than he’d known all his life.

In fact, despite all the pain and suffering he’d endured during his training, he’d always been grateful for being chosen by Azazel. His father had handpicked him after all from dozens of other potential children. Azazel had reared him himself, had trained him himself. His father had made him into something more than a mere human. His father had saved him from being nothing more than mere cattle.

When his father’s years of planning finally bore fruit, while the rest of the human race was reduced to slavery or as hosts for other demons, he would be sitting at his father’s right hand, sharing in the glory…

At least, that would have been his fate if he’d succeeded in his mission. Now… he would probably suffer a fate worse than the other cattle. He would suffer the fate of those who failed, tortured to within an inch of his life over and over, and most likely killed horribly only after his father got bored. Then, in hell, his suffering would truly begin… Though there was still hope, if he completed his mission, bringing Sam to his father. He may be allowed to live if Azazel was in a generous mood, though by the time the demon was done with him he might wish for death. Not only for his own fate, but for the fate that awaited Sam…

Even as Sam spoke of switching his allegiances, to fight on their side, not the demons, not his father’s… such a concept was almost unfathomable to him. Every time he tried to wrap his mind around the idea, he felt physically ill with fear. Despite all the pain and suffering he’d endure now at his father’s hands for his failure, it was far preferable than to suffer the fate of a traitor…

Dean’s eyes flickered up to Sam’s at the light touch across his lips. To stay with Sam… that’s all he wanted. All he’d ever wanted. To never wake up from the dream. To always have the boy, the man, Sam, with him forever. But how? How…

The elder man managed a small smile when Sam kissed him softly, more for the younger man’s sake than his own, and helped the other man to rise when he asked. Unable to stop the flash of concern from crossing his face at the obvious discomfort that his brother was in. He could not help but worry, even as Sam asked him not to. Even though he knew Sam was not truly hurt, only sore as he said, he couldn’t stop feeling guilty for it either. Even as, like Sam, he didn’t think he could ever truly regret what they’d shared. He still regretted the pain the younger man was in because of it.

From now on, perhaps Sam should enter him when they had sex. Dean was used to the discomfort, he had been taken so many times, it would not affect him so much. He decided he would suggest that the next time they fucked, as he watched Sam carefully make his way into the bathroom to wash up. Dean sat back down on the mattress, waiting for Sam’s return.

When the younger man returned with the water for him to clean up, Dean did so quickly and efficiently. Doing his best not to “tease” this time, as he listened to Sam discuss the fortifications of the church. When Sam was done, Dean hesitated only a moment before offering his own insight. Well aware that every word out of his mouth would be considered practically blasphemous, and would surely mean a fate worse than death if it was learned what he was about to tell Sam.

“The word of God is a powerful weapon against the minions of Hell because most demons in hell are the twisted souls left of humans. Most of what God made them burned away in hellfire leaving only pain, rage, and evil. However the essence of their soul remains, though it’s blackened almost beyond recognition.” Dean practically whispered as he washed himself carefully, not meeting Sam’s eyes as he spoke, as though he could pretend he was speaking only to himself made it easier to utter them.

“Holy ground will keep away most lesser demons. The same with holy water, rosaries, and other relics of God. However the older demons, the original demons, were once fallen angels of God, cast out of heaven and the light completely, and those measures will have no effect at all upon them. The only law they obey is the law of their own God. The word of the Light Bringer. Lucifer…”

Dean paused, his eyes flickering up briefly to Sam’s before looking away again as he adjusted his clothes and pulled them back into place.

“My father has many enemies among the elder demons. The war for power in hell has raged constantly since… well, that’s more than you need to know. The point is while the laws of God are powerful and most demons must obey, the laws of hell are what all demons must obey. My father taught some of it to me, the language of demons. Spells, devils’ traps, and other sigils are useless if they are destroyed somehow, broken, and that might be as simple as tearing up the foundation of the church or bringing the walls down on top of you. I can write down some spells and they must be copied in blood, any will do, on every wall in the building. It will stop demons from simply destroying the structure around you to get inside.”

Sam forced himself to listen to Dean rather than watch him as he bathed. Dean's soft words were hard to hear and Dean's refusal to meet Sam's eyes told him that Dean shouldn't be telling him this. That these things were things the demon master would know Dean had spoken. His brow lifted at learning demons were once human. Did anyone else know this? Did Bobby or Jim or his father? Why hadn't he ever heard of it? He knew Dean was telling the truth, but the thought that demons were not just supernatural evil, but human souls who had lost everything of themselves to Hell was terrible. Lost all their humanity to Hell. He wasn't sure he could understand what could do that to a person, but then recalled the things he had seen done to Dean, the things Dean had done to their father. After years of experiencing such horrors, yes, maybe he could understand.

Original demons were fallen angels. If demons were fallen angels…then angels were real. He had always believed in angels and if demons existed it surely suggested their counterparts did as well, but he had never really made the connection that fallen angels would be demons. It made sense but a part of him was horrified by the idea that angels could fall so far as to become such doers of evil. Then again, angels were warriors of God and warriors, no matter to whom they swore allegiance, were killers. Whether what they killed was darkest evil or purest good, warriors were warriors and death was what a warrior meted out.

Sam's breath caught and any portion of his mind contemplating the implications of Dean's words ceased. His father had taught him? His father? The demonic bastard that stole Dean from them told Dean he was his father? He heard Dean's words continue, about the laws of the underworld, about blood spells and how they offered the hunters protection, but his mind stayed locked on Dean's words. "My father…"

The bastard. The son of a bitch demonic bastard. He was not Dean's father! John was his father. Mary was his mother, and Sam was his brother. He was not the son of some twisted fallen angel. He belonged to Sam. He had and always would belong with Sam. The demon stole Dean. Took Dean from him. From Dean's family. Killed their mother, killed Sam's almost fiancé, killed his best friend, and ordered Dean to kill others. Made his brother into a heartless, cold murderer.

He felt the power begin to burn inside him as he seethed over those brutal, horrific facts. He felt all his fury, all his unabashed anger, flow together, roil together into a growing flame that blossomed dark and black in his chest. He felt the heat begin to build around him, felt something twist deep in his soul.

The demonic bastard would know pain unlike anything Hell had ever seen. Sam would shred the angel's black soul, would rip it apart, put it back together, only to shred it again. For every year it had kept Dean, for every day it masqueraded as Dean's father, for every single time Dean had been hurt or abused, that demon would experience more pain than even it could tolerate. It would scream and Sam would drink in its agony, each whimper a delicacy, each cry a feast….

Dean froze in the middle of buttoning up his shirt when he felt it. His eyes snapping up to Sam again in shock, and not a little bit of fear, when he realized what was happening. The hair on his neck standing on end as the air around them practically crackled with electricity. No…. A cold icy feeling bloomed in the pit of Dean’s stomach, a sharp contrast to the fiery buildup of dark energy he could feel inside of the younger man.

“Sam… stop, please, you have to stop… Sam? Sam!” Dean tried but it was like his brother wasn’t even listening to him. Maybe the younger man couldn’t hear him at all.

Dean knew all too well what it felt like. The feeling of all that rage, all that power, building up within the younger man. Dark. Seductive. Anger. Rage. Building up inside like a bomb ready to explode. His father had taught him how to channel it. Use it. Control it. It was what gave him power. It was what made him better, stronger, than other humans. Worthy to sit at Azazel’s side…

Yet feeling that same power echo, no, stronger building up inside of Sam scared him. No, this shouldn’t be happening to Sam. This darkness, this taint of evil, inside something so pure, horrified Dean. It sickened him. He wanted to reach inside of Sam and tear it out himself. Dean didn’t care if he was tainted, corrupted, evil… but Sam… no, not Sam. He wouldn’t let it have him. He wouldn’t!

“Sam look at me… please…” Dean said as he reached out for the younger man, framing Sam’s face in his hands, trying to get his brother to focus upon him rather than whatever had triggered this. If Dean only knew what had triggered it… but he didn’t have a clue. “Please, Sam. You have to calm down. You have to focus. Listen to my voice. Relax…”

Nothing.

He could feel it all. All the darkness inside of his brother. He could feel the power inside of him answering in kind. Blooming up in his chest, even as it was held trapped inside of his body, under lock and key thanks to the magic pouch around his neck. Keeping it confined, keeping it from lashing out destructively without a target. Sam didn’t have that. There were only two options. The power building up would either last outwards, or within. Dean didn’t much care what might happen to him if he became the target of that rage fueled power, but if Sam drew it inside it could destroy him…

Desperately Dean reached out and pulled the younger man tightly against him. Chest against chest. Part of him hoping the physical contact would somehow reach his brother when his words did not. Another part of him hoping that the magic containing his own powers might somehow be transferred to Sam, at least in part, to soften the blow.

Desperately, not knowing what else to do, Dean called out to the hunters above.

“Help! Hunters! Bobby! Jim! Sam needs you! Help!”

Jim and Bobby had been diligently working to sort everything out that Bobby and Sam had purchased. Everything was divided up into stacks. Clothing. Protective supplies of salt and herbs and holy symbols. Food. Comfort items like air mattresses, blankets and heaters.

They really hadn't been paying any attention to the time, both silently agreeing to let Sam have whatever time he needed with his brother. Jim told Bobby about the earlier events and how Sam trusted Dean. Probably too much, but Jim felt confident Sam was right that Dean wouldn't hurt him. Not so long as he was in chains, anyhow.

When they heard Dean's muted voice of a cry for help, both men immediately stopped their respective tasks and rushed to the basement, salt loaded shotguns and holy water in hand. Bobby yanked open the door and practically took two steps at a time. He felt the pure electricity in the room, and one look at Sam's face nearly made his heart stop. The dark power that emanated from the young man, the twisted fury on his face. This was hardly the Sammy he knew and loved.

"Sammy?" Bobby asked, warily approaching the young man. "What's the matter Sammy?"

Sam's gaze cut to the old hunter. "He claimed to be his father! The bastard that stole him from us told Dean he was his father!"

A hot wind swirled in the room.

"I'm going to rip that bastard apart," Sam seethed. "He took Dean from us, made Dean into this," Sam howled. The basement windows shattered, blowing outward in unison.

"Sammy," Bobby tried to soothe, the sheer power surrounding the young man frightening him. "We'll get him. We'll save your brother. This isn't the way, Sammy. This isn't the way. No sense saving him only to lose you."

Sam's dark gaze raked over Bobby and Bobby went airborne, thrown across the room. Sam's gaze went to Jim next and ripped the gun and water from him. With a slight wave of his hand, Jim was pushed aside so he stumbled to his knees, but was not thrown through the air.

Ripping the hex bag from his throat, Sam screamed, "Come and get me you fucking coward! You want me? Here I am!" Sam pushed Dean away from him and stalked toward the stairs.

Dean only felt a moment of relief when the hunter’s appeared barely seconds after his shout. He was relieved even more when Sam, finally, reacted to them. Reacted to something other than the fury, pulled out of his dark rage long enough to actually speak, at least. However that relief was brief at best when Sam’s words penetrated and Dean understood the cause.

Sam was enraged because he had called Azazel his father… he hadn’t even thought of it, the word coming automatically to his lips. If he had known… but it was too late now.

Pain exploded in Dean’s head at the sudden burst of power from Sam, the ringing in his ears he barely heard the sound of the windows shattering. It became painfully obvious the hunters would have no luck in talking Sam down, any more than Dean himself had as he watched, horrified, as the younger man lash out at them. Not that Dean really cared in the least what happened to them, he only cared about Sam. What this was doing to Sam.

He had to stop it. He had to!

“Sam!” Dean cried out desperately to the younger man as his brother shoved him away roughly. Not nearly as roughly as the two hunters, but Dean had no way to hold onto the other man. No way to contain him, no way to stop him. Not the way he was now. Now he was just as helpless as he’d been while Dumah had tortured him. Now he was merely human, and Sam…

“Sam, no!” Without thinking, Dean reached up and tried to tear the hex bag off from around his throat and nearly screamed in frustration when he couldn’t. “Get this off me! Get this off me now! I have to stop him! Hunters, please…”

Bobby grunted as the air was knocked out of him. At least he hadn't been slammed into the fucking wall this time. He saw Sam knock Jim aside, but he hadn't sent the injured man airborne. Bobby nearly ignored Dean's scream of frustration and then his pleading. His gaze went from Sam, now without his hex bag and surely a beacon for any thing nearby, to Dean. The look on Dean's face was torment and fear and concern. If the man was faking it, he should win an Oscar. The panic in his voice cut through to Bobby's core. He grabbed the holy water and pulled out his silvered knife and strode over to Dean.

"Stand still," Bobby growled at him. "This is going to hurt like a sonuvabitch because I don't have time to do it right."

Bobby drenched the bag with holy water, muttering under his breath in Latin. He cut through three of the runes on the bag, feeling the electricity wash through him and he nearly staggered, but doggedly kept up the chant. Bobby knew he would be taking the brunt of the backlash from the spell bag. Running the blade across his palm, drawing blood, he then poured holy water over both the knife and the wound, then drew the blade through the purified blood. He took hold of the leather thong and wincing as he finished the Latin, using every ounce of strength he had to sever the leather cord. He let loose a cry of pain as the power in the spell bag all but exploded in his face. He fell backward, practically blinded, pain tingling through out all his nerves. He lay on the floor, small convulsions jerking his body.

"Save him, Boy. Save Sammy," Bobby begged before a final wave of power from the broken spell bag washed over him and the bag fell from Dean's neck. Darkness swallowed Bobby as he passed out.

Dean didn’t have time to feel the utter shock he knew he should have felt that the hunter was actually doing as he asked, removing the one thing that was truly keeping Dean a prisoner, keeping him from killing them all. While on some level he knew that what the older man was doing had absolutely nothing to do with any trust he might have in him, but everything to do with fear for Sam. They both knew that Dean was the only one who could stop the younger man right now. Quite frankly, Dean didn’t care one fucking bit the hunter’s reasons. He didn’t even care when the hunter warned him that removing the hex bag like this would hurt like a bitch. All Dean cared about was Sam.

The hunter was true to his word. When the leather cord around his neck snapped, Dean staggered a little from the pain of the backlash, but he didn’t fall. He barely spared a brief glance towards the hunter on the ground who had freed him, Dean was already running up the stairs, following Sam. Not caring how he stumbled, dizzy and more than a little unsteady from the feeling of his own powers rushing back to life. The feeling almost like having your arm or leg fall asleep, numb for hours, and then being forced to move it before all the circulation had returned. Of course the feeling was multiplied by about a thousand.

As Dean made it to the top of the stairs, Sam was already almost out the door, and the elder man reacted without thinking.

“Sam, stop!” He yelled, and almost before the words were even out of his mouth, the doors to the church slammed shut and locked themselves without barely a thought from Dean. His power surged outwards, wrapping around Sam and freezing him in place. Weaving itself around his brother like a net, like a cocoon, forcing the darkness back, keeping it contained. His brother might have more power than him, but Sam had no idea how to use it. Right now it was controlling him, not the other way around, and that gave Dean the advantage.

Dean ran to Sam, grabbing his brother’s arm and forced him around with both his physical strength, reinforced by his power. Dean held Sam firmly in both, forcing his brother to look at him, to listen to him.

“Stop. This isn’t you. This is what he wanted. But this isn’t you…” Dean said, softer now. Pulling Sam closer to him, wrapping his mind around his brother. Letting Sam feel him. Trying to force calm past the anger. “Come back to me. You’re mine. I’m yours, Sammy. Only yours…” He whispered, pulling the younger man hard against his body and kissing Sam hungrily. Pouring everything he was, everything he loved, into the kiss and into Sam.

Sam walked up the stairs, the darkness in him driving him. Why hadn't he opened up to these powers before? They were intoxicating, they promised him the ability to do almost anything. These powers promised him that he could take down the demon who dared to take his brother and thought no retribution would be suffered for it. The demon was in for the biggest shock of its life. Sam didn't care if it burned everything out of him, if it turned him to ash, so long as that demonic son of a bitch was dead. So long as his brother was free of the false father, the master, the owner of his soul. Dean was his. He felt his power flare stronger as it coursed through him. He embraced it. He knew he would need everything to take the fallen angel down. Once outside the church, he had little doubt the demon bastard would come. He strode with determination toward those beckoning doors.

He heard his brother's voice, his demand, and Sam was about to brush his brother off when the doors to the outside slammed shut in his face. How dare anyone do this! This was his time to fight, to rend, to destroy.

And then a power wrapped around him and he couldn't move.

Sam dug deeper, feeding the fire with everything inside him. But then…that wave of fury and strength was pushed back, was chained. He railed against the net that held him firmly in place and struggled against his bindings.

Dean was suddenly there, forcing him to turn, forcing him to listen to him. What who wanted? He didn't care. He didn't care at all. Of course this was what he was meant to be and so it was him, no matter what Dean thought. If this is what it took to save Dean and destroy that demon, then he accepted it all without hesitation or regret.

The warmth and love suddenly poured into him, shattering the spell of the darkness. The power was still there, still at his fingertips, still ready to explode. Dean's kiss, that desperate kiss on his mouth, Dean's body pressed against him, and finally, Dean was totally and completely open to him. Everything that was Dean engulfed him. The sorrow, the anger, the pain, the rage…and his utter and complete love for Sam. In that moment, Sam could have destroyed Dean. Obliterated him. The hunger he felt in Dean, the desperation pulled him from his darkness. Dean shouldn't, wouldn't hurt like this. He wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, answering the kiss with equal hunger. He wanted Dean. And yes, he was Dean's. Totally and completely. The power in him shifted, entwining itself with Dean's until there was no division. There power was one. They were one. Their power wrapped around them both and the darkness that it had been shifted. It was not lust that now fed the power. It was love. The black turned golden, it caressed them, it healed them, and Sam pulled Dean as close to him as possible. His tongue met Dean's and Dean chased Sam's tongue back into his mouth. Sam moaned as his hands slid down to Dean's ass and pulled Dean against him. They were one. They would always be one. He was Dean's and Dean was his. That's the way it was meant to be and absolutely nothing could come between them. Sam had no doubt he would kill anything that tried.

For a moment Dean was afraid that Sam was actually going to try to fight him. He actually felt the younger man struggling against his power binding him, and Dean’s heart twisted painfully. Fighting Sam was the absolute last thing he wanted, but he would do what he had to. Even if Sam killed him in the process, Dean would do absolutely anything to keep the younger man from going after Azazel now like this.

Yes, Dean realized quickly with no small amount of horror, this is exactly what Azazel had wanted all along. Why he had been sent to capture, torture, and kill Sam’s father in front of him. Why the younger man’s friends had been murdered. He knew he was meant to test Sam, to awaken his powers, but this was what Azazel had truly wanted. For the younger man to lose control completely. For the darkness, the anger, the rage, to consume him completely…

If Dean had succeeded, there was a good chance Sam would have killed him then, in the mill, because he wouldn’t have been prepared for this level of power Sam displayed now. Hell, he truly hadn’t been prepared for the power Sam had used then, even without the magic solution that had bound his powers, making them absolutely useless.

Was that really what his father had wanted? For Sam to kill him? For Sam’s soul to burn away completely in the wake of his awakening powers? For Sam to take his place? The more powerful son… The boy, the pure, innocent, loving boy Dean had known lost forever, corrupted forever…

No. Dean wasn’t going to let it happen. As long as there was any breath left inside of him, he would never let that happen. He wrapped his arms around the younger man tighter. Pulled Sam so close not even air separated them. Prepared to do anything, absolutely anything, to stop it from happening. Then he felt the sudden shift in the power within Sam, he felt Sam respond to him, his brother’s arms wrapping around his body. Sam’s power no longer fighting against his, instead embracing it, reaching out to him, and Dean allowed it.

Dean gasped into his brother’s mouth. The feelings running through him, around them, flowing between them, were intense and indescribable. It was like what he’d felt before from Sam, when Sam had healed his shoulder, and again when they’d made love, he’d felt this power washing over him but he hadn’t been able to answer it before. Now he did, and it was beyond anything he’d ever felt before in his life. Even as close as he’d felt to Sam when he’d been buried deep inside him as a lover, it almost paled in comparison. As their powers, their minds, twined together, he honestly couldn’t tell where he ended and Sam began. In this moment in time there was no them. They were truly one, the same soul trapped in two different bodies, finally reunited…

He had no idea how long it lasted. It could have been for a few seconds or an eternity. But when the surge of power finally began to fade, throwing them back into their respective bodies, Dean could have wept at the loss. In fact, he wasn’t sure he wasn’t. The elder man clung even tighter to Sam, even as their desperate kisses grew soft and tender. The thought of being separated from the younger man more unbearable than any torture he’d ever known.

Sam didn't want the power to fade. He wanted to be united with Dean as they were now, body and soul. He tried to shore it up, to stop it from disappearing through his fingers like sand, but he couldn't control it. Without the rage to feed it, the darkness dissipated and the golden love, while still there, urged the release of the burning power, urged Sam to find his way back to sanity.

Dean's kisses had gentled and Sam's softened in response. He pulled his mouth from Dean's but held Dean tightly, running his hand over the back of Dean's hair. He still felt it, the anger at what the demon had done, but revenge no longer consumed him. The power no longer held Sam gripped in its jaws. He had no idea how to control the power within him and Dean just proved to him he was no where close to ready to face the demon. He would have fallen—or been taken by it. To what purpose Sam could only guess, but suspected Sam would lose himself. A twisted soul, blackened beyond recognition as Dean had said demons were.

"You saved me, Dean," Sam whispered. He pulled back and was startled to see Dean's face wet with tears. Sam smiled at him as he wiped them away. "I'm okay. I'm myself again."

He let their hug end with regret and he could tell Dean didn't want to let him go either. "We have things to do. Blood spells to write on the walls, and you and I both need to get hex bags back on, just in case anyone this side of Hell missed what was probably a massive beacon announcing just where we're holed up."

Sam touched Dean's chest where the spell bag had hung. He wondered how Dean had escaped it. If he had the power to escape it, he would have before now. That meant…Jim or Bobby removed it. Concern filled him suddenly. He had tossed his friends aside like rag dolls. But whichever of the two—probably Jim, Sam suspected since Bobby didn't trust Dean worth a damn—removed it, they put faith in Dean to stop Sam, to save Sam. And Dean had. He gave Dean a last kiss. "I need to check on my—on our friends. And you have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt I have to learn to control these powers, or they will control me."

Sam looked at Dean's face and realized all the bruising that had been there was gone. Sam frowned as he felt something small stabbing him in the chest, and pulled up his shirt. The black threads that had stitched his injuries closed tumbled out and fell to the floor. Running his hand over the healed wound, he saw only a faint scar still visible. He realized too that he no longer hurt from his earlier recreation with his brother. He pulled Dean's shirt up and saw that the wicked bruising along Dean's ribs were gone. He healed again. Damn he really needed to learn how to control that power too.

Sam laughed softly. "Guess I won't be walking funny for the next week after all. When we have time, maybe you can fix that."

Overwhelmed didn't really begin to cover how Dean was feeling right now. In fact, he was overwhelmed by so many different emotions at once, he could barely define one from another. Of course he was relieved that he had managed to stop Sam. To keep his brother from trying to face off against Azazel. At the same time, Dean was terrified, because of what he'd done. Azazel wanted Sam. Dean had stopped Sam from going to him. Dean had just all but directly defied an order from Azazel...

He couldn't stop the slight tremors from running through his body as Sam drew away from him no matter how he tried. The gentle hand running through his hair, his brother carefully wiping away the wetness from his cheeks, his whispered thanks, did not even calm him. He simply couldn't believe what he'd just done... but Dean knew deep down if he had to make the choice all over again he would do exactly the same thing, no matter what the consequences.

Dean would never let any harm come to Sam. Not from anyone. Not even his fa... from Azazel.

The elder man gave Sam a nod of agreement when the younger man listed off the things they had to do. Sam was right. Someone would have felt that burst of power from Sam. Perhaps even Azazel himself. Something would be coming to investigate, and would be coming soon. They needed to be ready.

Though Dean wasn't exactly sure how to respond when Sam said he should check on our friends. The two hunters downstairs were certainly no friends of his. As far as Dean was concerned, nothing had really changed. He had done what he'd done to save Sam. The hunter that had released him had done so for the same reason. He did not give a damn really whether those two men lived or died... but they would not die by Dean's hand. For Sam.

It was only when Sam suddenly pulled up his shirt and Dean saw the completely healed wound on his brother's chest that he realized he was no longer in pain either. Still he was a little shocked when Sam pulled up his shirt as well and even the heavy bruises on his chest were gone. The power Sam had was incredible... even the gunshot and stab wounds were healed, he felt completely fine now. Well, except the massive headache he had from fighting against Sam's burst of raw power. Yes, they needed to start training Sam how to control his abilities as soon as possible. Right after they were done setting up the defenses for the church.

Though Dean couldn't help but grin slightly when Sam mentioned them finding something else to do with their time... maybe. First things were first however.

"I'll start the blood spells." Dean said his own blood would have to do for the time being, besides, blood spells were always stronger when the blood used came from the caster. Very reluctantly Dean released the younger man and stepped away from him. "Go check on your... friends."

Sam saw Dean's grin at his suggestion, but he also could tell that Dean was deeply troubled by something. He wanted to ask, but then Dean spoke of the spells and stepped back, focusing on the very things Sam had mentioned they needed to do. He would ask later, once they were protected and had the luxury of pursuing whatever was bothering his brother.

With a soft sigh to himself, he could only hope Dean would eventually accept Bobby and Jim as allies, even if not as friends. Of course, he also had to convince the elder hunters to accept Dean in return. Somehow he figured mentioning that he and Dean, his brother, were also lovers would do little to help matters.

Sam walked with Dean toward the basement. He paused outside Bobby's work room. "You should find anything you would need in there." He touched Dean's arm and waited for Dean to look at him. "I know you said I can't trust you, and now you are out of your chains. There are weapons in there. There are the supplies for making the demon poison. There is demon poison in there. Since you stopped me, I'm going to guess you just went against your orders, unless training me is part of your orders. If…if you still feel you have to follow your orders regarding Jim and Bobby, tell me. I'll make them leave. I'll stay with you, but let them go. I…I don't want to have to chose between you and their lives. Just don't hurt them or Dad. If your demon wants them dead, then make him send someone else after them. I couldn't…it can't be you that hurts them. Please."

After giving Dean a tremulous smile he left Dean there as he picked up his pace to get to the basement. If he hadn't hurt Jim and Bobby then why weren't they up here? Or were they afraid of him? Sam snorted. He was afraid of himself, so he wouldn't blame them if they were.

"Jim? Bobby? I'm sorry," Sam called from the top of the stairs. "Dean stopped me, brought me back," he said as he started down the stairs.

Jim was at Bobby's side and Bobby was apparently unconscious. That was not where he had thrown Bobby, and he had been careful not to do more than move them out of his way. Even in his fury, he tried not to do more than maybe give them a bruise or two, which now almost made him sick. How could he believe that hurting his friends was acceptable?

Bobby lay near Dean's chains. Had Dean hurt him? He saw the fallen spell bag practically next to the hunters. A long cleansing process, Bobby had said would be needed to break the curse, to remove the bag. Bobby had released Dean? And now Bobby was paying for the breaking of the curse.

Sam was at their side almost instantly. "Jim, is Bobby…?"

"He's okay, Samuel. Knocked unconscious I think from the backlash of breaking the removal curses," Jim said.

Sam tried to find that healing power inside him, but all he could feel was a darkness beneath still waters just waiting for him to grow angry again, waiting to latch on again and try to take him over. He shuddered a little and let go of any attempt to draw upon his abilities. Unless Bobby was dying, he wasn't going there. Not without Dean to help him.

"I'm sorry, Jim," Sam said, hanging his head. "It just swept over me. I couldn't do anything to stop it. I didn't try to stop it. I wanted that demon's head on a platter for what it did to Dean and our family."

Resting his hand on Sam's shoulder, Jim smiled briefly and said, "That's okay Sam. It is obvious that you are going to have to learn to control these demonic powers or they will get you killed, or worse." Jim's gaze went toward the basement door. "Now that your brother is free, is he staying? Do Bobby and I need to watch our backs?"

"I asked him to tell me if he felt he had to follow his orders regarding the two of you. If he felt he had to hurt you. I think he will tell me, and I think he will let you two go if he does feel that way. He's going to work on some blood spells to put on the walls to keep the demons from knocking the church down on us. He needs blood, so we need to supply him with some. He can't cover every wall with his own."

Sam looked down at his unconscious friend. It was his fault. He got those he loved hurt or killed. Maybe he should make Bobby leave with Jim. However it played out, Dean would stay at his side, he knew that. And, he truly believed, would protect Sam with his life. Just as he would protect Dean. "I'm going to get an air mattress, a heater, and a blanket and bring them down. We'll get Bobby moved on to…"

His words died off as Bobby began to stir, groaning. "Anybody get the license of that train?" Bobby muttered.

"Yes," Jim said, "It was called Robert Singer's magical mystical curse of the spell bag."

Bobby grunted, giving Jim a half-hearted glare. He had a mother of a headache. He looked up and saw the worried face of Sam watching him. "I'm fine," Bobby said. "So Dean stopped you."

Sam nodded. "And he's putting blood spells on the walls. You want to try to get a little sleep? Dean and I can finish fortifying the church. And Jim, you need to get out of here. I have a feeling something will come calling before too much longer. I was surely all but a signal flare to every demon in the area…maybe you ought to go with Jim, Bobby."

"You ain't gettin' rid of me that easy Sammy. I'm the only one that can whip up the mojo juice and we're going to need it more like as not. Just get me some aspirin and give me about fifteen or twenty minutes and I should be back on my feet."

"Once he's up, I'll leave," Jim said. "Besides, you need my blood. Come on, Samuel, let's get to it while we wait for the old man here to get off his lazy butt."

Bobby gave them both the one fingered salute as he slowly sat up. His head was surely going to split open and maybe even shatter like the basement windows had. Speaking of which…

"Get the salt lines back on those windows down here, too!" Bobby called after them.

It was a little ironic that Sam was asking him, all but begging him, not to harm the two hunters downstairs now that he was free outside the very room he’d once been held prisoner. The room where the two men had injected him with the solution of herbs that had kept his powers bound and had caused him such torture.

When Sam left him standing there, Dean almost reached out to grasp the younger man’s arm to keep him here. The last thing he wanted was to be alone right now. He did not want to be alone with his thoughts, his fears… It was easier with Sam standing next to him, with his brother in his arms. Easier to remember why he was doing this, why he was… disobeying… something he’d never done in all his life. Why he was willing to suffer unimaginable torment. For Sam. He was willing for Sam…

Dean looked briefly towards the double doors that led out of the church. It would be easy, so very easy, to walk out of them now. Return to his father’s side. A disgrace. A failure. His punishment would be terrible both before and after his death. But at least he wouldn’t be a traitor… But that would not stop Azazel for coming for Sam. Taking his brother. Training him, as Dean had been trained. Turning him into something else…

He couldn’t let that happen. He simply couldn’t. Sam… the boy in his dreams that had always offered him such comfort, the only love he’d ever know… he couldn’t bear the thought of Sam being turned into something like him. Something worse. He would stay. He would train Sam. He would protect his brother with his life, or with his death. It didn’t matter, as long as Sam was safe.

Dean walked into the room, his gaze sweeping over the table and its supplies. Frowning as his gaze fell on the various herbs, vials of what was most likely his own blood, and the solution, the poison, he’d been injected with. He picked up a knife from the table, examining the razor sharp blade thoughtfully. It wasn’t his knife, but it would do.

Forgiveness wasn’t exactly a notion he was used to, and he certainly did not forgive the hunters for what they’d done to him. For that reason alone, he would have killed them slowly and painfully, without hesitation… if it wasn’t for Sam’s wishes. If it wouldn’t obviously cause Sam pain if he were the one who ended their lives.

No, they would not die by his hand. That did not mean if something happened he would go out of his way to protect them. Sam was his only concern. Sam was the only one he cared about. The rest of them could burn in hell for all he cared.

Dean ran the blade over the flat of his palm, the blade slicing easily through his flesh, opening up a wound that bled generously. Muttering the ancient, forbidden, words under his breath he walked over to the first wall. Dipping his fingers into blood on his hand and then tracing the runes onto the old wood, feeling the ancient power vibrating through his fingers and up his arm, swirling around him with every stroke he made.

Dean couldn’t help but smirk slightly as he finished the first spell. It had to be terribly ironic that he was using the language of the devil in order to protect a church of god. If he didn’t already know he was going to hell, this blasphemy would have surely given him a one way ticket there. The universe certainly had a sense of humor. Of course a joke was only funny when you weren’t the punch line.

"Jim, I really think Bobby ought to go with you," Sam said.

Jim laughed softly. "If he puts his mind to it, he can out-stubborn a Winchester, and I guarantee you, he'll put his mind to it. He's not going to leave you and your brother to fight alone. And he is right about the 'mojo juice.'"

"He can make it back at the motel and drop it off for us. We probably have enough to last us, and he can make more and then back us up outside."

"Samuel," Jim said patiently, "he's not going to leave, no matter what you want. So where is your brother?" Jim scanned the hallway once they got to the top of the stairs.

"Bobby's workroom. Figured it would have everything he would need." He watched Jim to see his reaction. They both knew everything that was in there.

Jim blanched a little at the idea, but took a deep breath and managed a small smile. "What say you find out if he intends to follow his orders regarding Bobby and I before I go into that room?"

"He won't hurt you so long as I'm with you. I promise," Sam said confidently, though he wasn't quite that one hundred percent confident on the inside. Almost, but there was that tiny doubt. He couldn't quite forget when Dean begged Sam to leave him in chains, telling Sam he couldn't be trusted. But Dean had proven he could be. Well, at least when it came to himself. But he believed Dean would honor his wishes. After all, Dean would surely know Sam would step between Jim and Dean if Dean threatened the older man.

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Jim gave a nod. "All right. Then let's go see him and how he's doing. Then I'll get the salt and aspirin and get it down to Bobby."

Sam led Jim in to the workroom where Dean was busy drawing on the wall with his own blood. A soft growl of words echoed ominously in the room, the murmur of syllables pouring from Dean in distinct sounds that overlapped and blurred together as the feeling of dark power permeated to room. A thrumming surged inside Sam, his skin prickling with icy fire as he listened in morbid fascination. A part of him wanted to fall back from those words, reject and deny them. Another part, however, rejoiced at their sounds, embracing and devouring the words and their meanings. Sam wasn't sure if he was going to puke in disgust, or sigh with pleasure. He felt the power that wrapped itself around Dean and saw the intangible shadows that danced in that power's wake. The words and power was old and strong, and he had absolutely no doubt the symbols would keep all but the most powerful demons away. He glanced over at Jim.

Jim was frozen and pale, staring aghast at the spell work Dean performed. "I cannot let him use my blood for defiling this holy place, no matter if it protects you, Sam," Jim whispered. "Nor will I permit Bobby's blood to be used in such a way. You must make your own choice, but I would argue against it."

Sam glanced back at Dean and his work, his brow creasing in regret. "We both know some of the blood inside me is demonic," Sam replied softly. "I understand that you can't do it. They are after me, and until I can stand and fight, I need this protection or I'm lost to them. If God has a plan like you always tell me he does, then Dean was returned to us to help us. To help me. And hopefully, in turn, I can save myself, Dean, and others. I don't have a choice Jim. I'm sorry. God will have to forgive me."

Jim finally turned away from the bloody symbols and retrieved the aspirin and a bag of salt. "I'll be downstairs with Bobby, Sam," Jim said, not looking back at the young man.

Jim felt the cold finger of fear run down his spine. If it took power like this to keep whatever was after Sam at bay, then he had little hope for Sam's survival. If Sam was truly strong enough to fight off such powerful external evil, he didn't know if Sam would have the strength to fight off the internal evil as well. Sam may be lost to them, regardless. He wished he could help Sam but this crossed a line the priest in him would not cross. As a hunter in self defense he had killed possessed innocents and often wondered if God would forgive him those murders. All he could do was pray for the souls of those he killed.

He had killed and destroyed evil ever since he had become a hunter those long years ago when the black dog had taken and killed his brother and little changed when he took up the bible. Bu this…how different was this? It was a sacrifice to save Sam. Whatever the demons wanted him for—no, there could be no doubt they wanted Sam for his power—then if Sam fell, evil would gain a powerful tool. Such a powerful tool would work to undermine God and if what Sam's brother had done before his capture was any indication of what lie in wait for Sam, it was imperative Sam not fall, no matter the cost. Even if it meant his damnation for such blasphemy. Jim briefly closed his eyes in regret. He turned back to Sam.

"If…if the two of you do not have enough blood, then…then I will help. But only then. Bobby's blood will only be used as a last resort. I will stay until your brother has done as many walls as he can with the blood between the two of you. Let me know either when you are done or when you need…my blood." With a small shudder, Jim quickly left the room.

Sam watched the elder hunter hurry out. That Jim was willing to do this told Sam just what Jim thought Sam's chances were, and just how dire the situation was. He had no delusions Jim was doing it to protect him, but rather to keep his power from the enemy.

He watched Dean a moment longer and found he was drawn to the power he felt his brother wield so effortlessly. He, like Jim, should retreat from this evil and he knew it. Instead he picked up a knife and cut his palm open, a soft hiss escaping him, mimicking what action his brother had apparently taken. After slipping the knife into his pocket, he approached Dean from behind, spooning himself against his brother as he wrapped one arm around Dean's waist and held his bloody palm beside his brother's in offering. He felt the power writhing around his brother stretch out its tentacles and entangle him in its dark warmth; the energy in the room flared darkly. Sam neither embraced nor refused that power that he felt. Inside he was so torn between horror and joy, he could not make a choice. He knew he could not work this spell himself or he may well give in to it. All he could do was offer what power was in him to join with his brother's in the protection of the church from the enemy that certainly would be calling all too soon.

Dean had felt, more than heard, them come in the room but he did not acknowledge them. He did not allow his focus to shift, not even for an instant, away from the spell he was weaving. The ancient powerful words falling from his lips never faltered. His fingers drawing the blood runes onto the wall never stopped moving. Dean knew all too well the consequences of breaking the spell in the middle. Knew all too well the dangerous fires he was playing with.

He had been taught by Azazel himself how to control his powers as well as the dark forces he was conjuring up now. If there was one thing he could say the demon had been proud of him of, it was how well he’d learned his lessons. All of his lessons. Even the ones that a “mere” human were forbidden to learn.

However he’d never used his powers or his knowledge for something like this before. Using it against his master. There would be no doubt at all his involvement in this, for this knowledge was all but forgotten except by the most powerful of demons. Like his father. Given to no human before him… with every drop of blood he smeared onto the dirty half rotten wood of the abandoned church he was sealing his own fate.

And though he made no outward sign at all of reacting to the words passed between the other hunter and Sam, every one made him wish to bury the blade he was using to draw his own blood deep into the older man’s neck. Despite his “promise” to his brother that he would not harm the two hunters. His refusal to “allow” him to use his blood to “defile” this so called “holy place” even if it meant protecting Sam. Not that he could say he really expected anything differently from a fucking human, a hunter no less. It was probably a wonder they had not put a bullet in Sam’s heart the moment he’d returned to the basement to check up on them, after the display of power the younger man had shown. A glimpse of what Sam could become if Azazel had his way…

Dean felt his brother come up behind him, felt the power around him shift to encompass Sam as easily as though the younger man had always meant to be there. Dean’s voice did not waver, even as he dipped his already bloody fingers into the pooling blood on his brother’s hand to finish the spell, feeling the power of the spell intensify. Their blood mixing, stronger together then apart, perhaps even strong enough to defy the master who had taught him this magic.

When he had finished the first spell Dean rested a moment, knowing they really didn’t have much time before he had to start the next. He took a moment however to look over his shoulder and offer a brief smile to his brother before covering Sam’s hand around his waist with his own, then folding his bloody palm over Sam’s, twining their fingers together. Feeling a surge of power flow through him both warm and cool at the same time as their blood mixed and flowed between them.

“Our blood should be enough.” Dean said, looking at their joined hands, before muttering darkly under his breath. “They do not deserve your protection from me.”

When Dean finally finished the spell Sam felt both relief and, perhaps frighteningly, a sense of longing to hear that ancient tongue spoken again, to feel the power that paced and flowed in the room during the casting. He smiled when Dean put his hand over his and he pulled Dean tighter against him. When his brother placed his bloody palm over Sam's and tightened his fingers, Sam felt the fresh flare of power as their blood mixed. It tingled and raced along his nerves, cold fire left in its aftermath. Tension tightened Dean's muscles as the anger at Jim was voiced. Sam nudged him for a kiss and Dean twisted his head. The kiss was brief, but long enough for their tongues to tangle and Sam to bite and tug a moment at Dean's lower lip with a grin before letting their kiss end. After the kiss he responded to Dean's soft and angry words.

"This simply surprised him. It surprised us both. For him the thought of using his blood like this goes so far against his nature at first blush he couldn't agree to it. You," and he tightened his hold around Dean's waist briefly, "should completely understand how hard it is to go against one's beliefs and one's nature. Jim recanted after he had a chance to wrap his brain around it. He did offer his blood if we need it. Knowing Bobby, he's going to want a blow-by-blow on this spell. Regardless of what Jim says, I think Bobby would be willing to offer his blood if needed. He's a bit more practical and certainly a lot less religious. If Dad were here he'd probably slit his wrist open and tell you to get on with it already. He is the epitome of practicality."

Turning his eye to the crimson runes, Sam watched small droplets of blood gather here and there along the marks. "I would guess, though, that only our combined blood is going to have any chance of being strong enough to stop them."

Sam leaned his head against his brother's, "If they can't get to us, are they going to go after Dad and Jim? I can't lose him, not now. If they even threaten to, I'll walk out of this church and you know it. Just like with you, knowing it's a trap, I'll go. Are Dad and Jim's hex bags going to be enough to hide them? If not, can you make stronger ones?"

Stiffening suddenly, Sam began cursing and pulled away from Dean. "Dammit, we need our hex bags back on." He glanced back at his brother. "Or are they moot at this point?"

Dean tilted his head back when he felt Sam nudge his cheek, knowing exactly what his brother wanted and he opened his mouth eagerly for the kiss he was given. Sighing softly as he leaned back into his brother’s weight, twining his tongue with Sam’s warm and slow, and returning the younger man’s slight grin when Sam nipped at his lower lip before pulling away. Dean’s next sigh was one of regret.

Though the elder man frowned a little at Sam’s defense of the hunter, Dean not really liking the comparison between himself and the older man, he nodded in acquiescence. A day ago, if he’d been freed, Dean wasn’t sure he’d be doing this, even for Sam. Now he was defying his master, his “god”, to protect his brother.

Azazel had been all he knew. He had no will of his own. Azazel’s will was his will. He obeyed, nothing more. Before he’d met Sam, all he had ever known of love and comfort was a dream. A dream that had meant the world to him, but it had still been only a dream. Intangible…

Now that he had held Sam in his arms, real and alive, felt his love… he couldn’t let him go, couldn’t give him up, not for anything. It didn’t matter to him what punishment he might suffer. What damnation awaited him… perhaps it was too much to expect others to value Sam as much as he did. But the priest had, in the end, given his consent to give his blood if it was needed. Dean supposed that was something.

Dean gave another slight nod, though he wasn’t exactly sure what he should say, if anything, to the younger man’s comments about Bobby and Sam’s father. But it wouldn’t really surprise him if both were true. Bobby, the man who’d taken such satisfaction in torturing him yet had freed him, given him the chance to save his brother. His… father… their father…

Dean was glad when his brother changed the topic to more reasonable, if not safer, subjects.

“Animal blood alone would have offered a powerful protection on its own. Human blood even more so. Our blood… It would take the demonic equivalent of a nuclear explosion to destroy this spell.” Dean said matter-of-factly.

Dean frowned a little when Sam spoke of risking himself to save his father if he were threatened. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have cared about the injured man in the hospital or the hunter going to guard him, but if keeping Sam safe meant keeping them safe as well… Dean sighed. “I can copy the runes on paper. Give them to your priest and tell him to use animal’s blood, it will be strong enough protection in most cases.”

When Sam suddenly pulled away from him, asking him about the hex bags, Dean frowned again but closed his eyes. Reaching out a little with his powers, though not wanting to be a beacon like his brother had been he tried not to use too much. He felt the dark ripple of evil energy, closing in much too quickly for his liking. It wasn’t his father, that much was for certain. A small blessing at least. Dean opened his eyes again.

“You’ve just come into your powers, they won’t recognize your signature yet. That gives us a small advantage. The way the power changed at the end is sure to throw them off too. Unfortunately something is coming, and quickly, to investigate. It will need to be destroyed before it can send word back to my fa… my master.” Dean said before turning quickly to the next wall. “I need to finish the spells before it gets here. Tell your hunter friends to be ready.”

When Dean closed his eyes at Sam’s question, Sam felt tendrils of power quietly reach out from Dean, searching. He wanted to explore if he could follow those tendrils or replicate those tendrils, but he knew now was not the time. His brother was obviously looking for something that would answer Sam’s concerns and it would be all too easy for Sam to mess up. If he tried, it was likely his “battering ram” approach would be another signal flare telling everything out there that the brothers were watching for them.

Sam felt the tendrils draw back and when Dean opened his eyes to meet Sam’s steady gaze, his words eased Sam’s mind some but only some. That the enemy wouldn’t know it was Sam would be a benefit and probably help limit what came hunting him. It may buy them some time for Dean to give Sam a crash course. Yeah. Demonic Powers for Dummies. There's a book he needed. Heck, maybe he would write it. If he survived this.

He couldn't help a small smile when Dean corrected himself and didn't call that demon bastard his father. Master. Yes, slave master. One that Sam swore he would emancipate his brother from. He watched as Dean turned to the next wall, his discomfort, his…fear, as tangible as the dream boy was now.

Striding over to Dean, he gripped Dean's shoulder and turned Dean to face him. "We'll protect each other. Like brothers should. Like…lovers…should. We'll survive this. We'll both escape because I'm not losing you and I'm not leaving you."

He pulled Dean into a firm embrace, not caring that he was smearing his blood across Dean's back, not caring that Dean was doing likewise, and he kissed Dean with every bit of passion in him. His drove his tongue deeply into Dean's mouth, tangling with Dean's and spending a moment investigating and claiming everything his tongue touched. When he finally broke the kiss, he followed it with a small kiss then stepped away. Taking Dean's hand that was wounded, he clenched his own into a fist, drawing forth fresh blood, and held it above Dean's hand, letting his blood flow to mix with Dean's.

"I'll go let them know. I'll be back in time for the next wall."

Sam headed out the door and lengthened his stride to carry him to the basement quickly. He raced down the stairs, noting that Jim had fixed all the salt lines on the windows. Jim sat at the table, still looking a bit pale. Sam's attention turned to Bobby who was definitely looking better. Sam flicked his eyes back to the pastor.

"You okay, Jim?" Sam asked worriedly.

Jim broke into soft laughter. "I'm letting demonic blood and spells protect a church. It may be old, it may be abandoned, but it is still a holy place. At least it was."

Bobby snorted. "Still is and you know it, Jim," he said as he climbed a bit shakily to his feet. He waved at Sam. "Get your damned hex bag back on, Boy. And I guess I need to make a new one for your brother that doesn't have the fancy extras."

"They know we're here. Something's coming to investigate my fireworks display. Dean says we have to take it out before it can report back to Dean's boss.

"I'll be the bait," Jim said. "They can't resist going after a priest."

"Let's talk this over with Dean. Hopefully he'll know the best way to take this demon out. I don't know if it's a lesser or greater demon, but he might and he'll be able to use his abilities to help." His gaze swung back to Bobby. "Thanks for believing me, for trusting him enough to let him go."

Bobby gave a curt nod. "Don't take a genius to see that boy cares as much about you as you do about him, demon reared or not. That desperation and fear that was on his face weren't something anyone could readily fake. Not to say I trust that boy at my back, mind you, but I trust him at yours."

A lopsided smile split Sam's face. "Yeah. Probably a wise call."

"Jim," Bobby said, "why don't you go check the rest of the salt lines. I need to whip up a new hex bag for demon boy and by the time I'm done, maybe the four of us can sit down and come up with a plan that'll keep Sammy, and the rest of us, in one piece for another day."

Bobby leaned in close to Sam as they headed for the stares. "I hope he's not done casting yet. I want to see that boy in action. And I really hope he don't hold grudges."

When he felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder Dean turned around with a raised eyebrow in question. He accepted Sam’s words of comfort with a slight nod. Sam’s confidence reassuring him maybe more than it should, given the direness of their situation, but it did. When his brother leaned in to kiss him, even knowing they really didn’t have time for such things, Dean accepted it as well. Opening his mouth with a moan of pleasure, allowing his brother’s tongue free reign inside his mouth, loving the way Sam claimed it for his own. Loving the way Sam held him so securely. Claimed him for his own. His brother. His lover. His everything…

A small sigh of regret escaped Dean’s lips in spite of himself when Sam pulled away from their kiss and embrace, but the elder man reminded himself they would have plenty of time for that later. Dean would make sure of that, no matter what it took. He was not going to lose Sam now. Nothing was going to take his brother away from him. Nothing.

Dean cupped his hand to catch his brother’s blood, giving the younger man another small nod before turning back to his task. The ancient words coming easily to his lips. The power flowing even easier to his fingertips than before.

His control over his power feeling greater somehow. Perhaps it was because he was using his brother’s blood as well as his own to complete the spell, the younger man’s blood, like his abilities, much more powerful than Dean’s own. Or perhaps it was because of the way they’d been joined, however briefly, their powers twining together, becoming inseparable.

He didn’t know, but something was definitely different. Another thing he would have to try to understand… Dean snorted, add it to the fucking list. As though he wasn’t questioning enough about his entire purpose for living already. Though the answer to that seemed to be quickly narrowing down to one thing, and one thing only. Sam.

Dean finished the spell runes on the wall as quickly as he was able to, this definitely was not something to be rushed, but he didn’t have much choice about that. At least he only had to worry about the outer walls. They definitely wouldn’t have enough blood to complete the task if they had to do the inner walls as well, not without slitting open one of their necks at least.

He completed the last wall in the workroom and moved quickly to the main room just as the hunters came up the basement stairs. Dean barely spared them a glance before turning back to his task.

As Sam started to head for Dean, Bobby grabbed his arm. "Boy, don't you know better than to interrupt a man when he's casting?"

Sam smile. "It's okay Bobby. The runes are stronger when he has both our blood to work with, and I know what I left him with has got to be getting thin. And," Sam blushed a little, "uh, don't be reading too much into what I'm about to do, okay? It's the only way I know of that won't interrupt his focus."

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at him. His glance went from Sam to Dean and back again. He gave a sigh. "Yeah. I know."

Sam's eyes widened just a little and his blush grew stronger. "You know what, Bobby?"

After a moment of hesitation, Bobby said, "That you two are stronger together. What did you think I meant idjet? Now, git. I'll get his hex bag made up."

"Bobby?" Sam questioned.

Bobby ignored him and headed into his workroom.

Sam watched him disappear through the doorway. Bobby knew. Well, fuck. Maybe he only suspected and didn't want Sam to confirm it. Sam was fine with that option. Better than fine, in fact. So maybe he hadn't managed to cover as well as he hoped he had.

His gaze went to his brother. With a few quick strides he rejoined his brother just as he had before, pushing the embarrassment aside for now. Dean didn't need any distractions. He still felt the mix of repulsion and joy at hearing Dean's words and feeling the power, but as before, he knew his brother would protect him. He swore Dean's voice grew stronger when he spooned himself against Dean and the power definitely flared just as it had before. Yes. Bobby was right. They were stronger together.

Dean felt Sam come up behind him again, and though his words never faltered he leaned back into his brother’s embrace. Once more feeling the power swirling around both of them. Sam’s strength adding to his own, his brother’s blood and his own turning this old abandoned church into a nearly impenetrable fortress.

Dean moved from wall to wall, not stopping, even though he felt his exhaustion growing with every cast. The energy required to perform the spell beginning to take its toll on him. Which wouldn’t much of an issue if he could rest afterwards, but there was a good chance he would have to fight not long after he was finished protecting the church.

What if he didn’t have the strength left to combat the thing that was coming? He would have to. Somehow he would have to. It had to be destroyed, before it could inform Azazel about Sam and his powers. It couldn’t be allowed to escape.

When Dean finally finished the last of the runes on the last wall, he all but collapsed back against Sam, breathing heavily and sweating a little from exertion.

Sam felt Dean’s weight shift against him and he pressed against his brother, confirming he was there and offering all the strength he had to help. He felt the slight tremor in Dean as his brother continued the work undaunted, but Sam could feel the sweat beginning to roll down his brothers back. He honestly was beginning to feel a little light headed himself as the blood from his palm was used and more pooled into his palm to replace it. It wasn’t as if a light sheen of crimson would build the runes; they needed to be solid and strong. Maybe if they hadn’t had their sexathon, he would feel less tired but he knew he couldn’t afford to waver any more than Dean could. He prepared himself to take over for Dean if he had to. The spell, at this point, was burned into his brain and he wasn’t particular sure if that was a good or bad thing. He suspected it was going to get ugly and get ugly quickly if what Dean said was true about company coming and he had no doubt it was. He wondered briefly if the church was so strongly fortified how they would draw the demon in, how they would stop it from telling Dean’s master that they were here. A devil’s trap would force the demon back to Hell once expelled but he wished there was a way to flat out destroy it. He wasn’t sure if by sending it back to the depths of the Underworld it would simply allow it to report that much sooner. He would have to ask Dean that. Maybe Dean knew a way to completely destroy it.

With the last wall done, Sam was a bit caught off guard when Dean practically collapsed in his arms.

“You’re done. I’ve got you brother. I’ve got you,” Sam murmured, kissing Dean’s temple. “What say we let you rest until Mr. Badass makes an appearance?”

Dean’s mute agreement told Sam just how exhausted his brother was. He helped his brother up and turned to guide him to Bobby’s workroom, surprised to see the elder hunter leaning against the wall watching them. Bobby stepped forward and took Dean’s other arm, helping Sam get Dean into the room.

“Dean.” Bobby said a little gruffly, I’ve got a hexbag ready to be made up, but I want you to look over it, make sure I didn’t put something in there that would mess with your abilities. Yours and Sam's are the same. If it messes with you, then his bag will mess with him.”

With a jerk of a head Bobby had Sam help Dean into a chair. He had lain out on the table a grouping of herbs, talismans and crystals.

“The spell bag Sam’s wearing has: fragments of obsidian, bloodstone, clear quartz, tiger eye and cats eye shells. This is all mixed into purified and blessed sea salt. Herbs of sage and vervain, a rowan wood twig, dragon’s blood, white and red silk braided thread, a silver pentagram, salt and pepper goofer dust, holly splinters soaked in black water, lodestone peppered with iron, amulet against possession, fern seeds soaked in heliotrope oil, mistletoe and poppy seeds…” Bobby pointed each item out until each small pile was accounted for. “And the bag is soaked in salted holy water. Anything you want in it I don’t have? Anything that ought not be included? And do I need to make these changes in Sam’s bag, and ours for that matter?”

Bobby glanced at Sam. “I’ve got some coffee made up.” He jerked his chin toward the table on the other side of the room where the coffee pot had just finished brewing. “Those donuts we picked up should be in one of the two or three bags beside that table. You both look like you could use some sugar and caffeine. And there are those orange juice boxes in with the donuts. For the blood you boys used, you need that too. Bring me back a coffee too, if you’ve got enough hands.”

Sam squeezed his brother’s shoulder and headed over to the table with the coffee. Bobby was right. They needed food and this would give them a jump start until they could get some real food down their gullets. He silently prayed Dean was cooperative and civil to Bobby. At this point, Bobby seemed to consider Dean just another hunter. Maybe a dangerous one that he couldn’t necessarily trust, but a comrade all the same. He hoped Dean recognized that.

Despite how tired he was, Dean couldn’t help but smile faintly when his brother’s lips touched his temple. Normally such a display of weakness would be unacceptable. Maybe he was getting soft. Dean didn’t really like that idea, but at the same time he couldn’t say he minded the feeling of the younger man’s arms wrapped securely around him. Sam helping him… he’d always had to stand on his own, before now. It was a little strange, though he supposed not in a bad way, having someone willing to stand with him.

Dean nodded to Sam’s suggestion, yes, he needed to rest and recover his strength so he’d be able to fight. He was just as surprised as Sam, even more so, when he saw the older hunter standing there watching them. He was even more surprised when Bobby came over to them… to help him.

Though he’d tensed when the older man took his arm, he allowed it without complaint, mostly because Sam was there. He probably wouldn’t have allowed the help, despite his exhaustion, if his brother hadn’t been there. Dean let them lead him back into the workroom and gratefully sat down.

He raised an eyebrow however when the older hunter addressed him, by name, Dean was sure it was the first time he’d done so. Dean tried not to be, but he couldn’t help being more than a little impressed when Bobby listed off the components of the hex bag he was making. To protect him and keep him off the demon’s radar…

This man who’d injected him with that poison with no idea what it would do to him, now willing to protect him? At best, he would have expected the other hunters to want him back in chains, with the old mojo bag around his throat again to contain his powers once he’d saved Sam. Not that he would have allowed them to do either of those things, but he’d still expected it. Not only had it not even been mentioned, the other man had helped him into a chair (without chains), and was now making him a new hex bag to protect him.

Dean couldn’t help feeling a little mystified, and more than a little distrustful, but he couldn’t deny his own eyes. Though he didn’t know exactly what had been in that old mojo bag, nothing laid out on the table would harm him, as far as he knew, and he knew quite a bit about spell and poison ingredients.

“They should be efficient.” Dean finally had to admit, there was really only one thing he could think of to make them even stronger. He leaned forward and picked up an empty bowl, making a fist over it and squeezing a bit more blood from his hand that was still bleeding sluggishly. He’d probably have to wrap it after this. Then he reached for a scrap of paper and sketched out some symbols similar to the ones he’d drawn on the walls.

“Draw these symbols on the bags in the blood, it will offer extra protection.” Dean said before he sat back in the chair again. Giving the older man no other explanation of what the markings would do. His eyes instead following Sam as the younger man went over to get them all some coffee.