He was dreaming.

He was fourteen years old and his father had given him a very important task. He felt honored that Azazel thought he was ready so soon. He'd only been training… for this… for a little over a year. But his father thought he was ready, and he would not fail him.

His father had been in negotiations all week long with another very powerful demon. Yesterday, his father had allowed Dean to accompany him to the negotiations, another great honor. The other demon, Samael, had taken an instant interest in him. His father had been pleased…

That was why tonight Dean was here, in the demon Samael's quarters. Downstairs the demons were all attending Azazel's huge banquet. His father's negotiations last night had gone well, and now they celebrated. With the addition of Samael and his legions it would significantly increase the size of his father's growing army.

Dean was waiting here now to seal the deal…

Dean looked up from where he was kneeling, naked, in the center of the huge king sized bed as the door opened. It was Samael, of course. The demon smiled as his eyes fell on him. Samael closed the door behind him, he did not bother to lock it, and approached him. The demon ran a clawed finger slowly down his cheek, just enough to break the skin. Dean didn't even flinch.

"So pretty…" He said as it licked Dean's blood away. "Tonight, you're mine."

It was an honor... an honor...

Dean told himself that over and over that night and believed it, no matter how loudly he screamed.

Sam had long since taken his shower though his hair was still damp. He was sitting in the dim living room, the glow of his laptop's screen the only source of light except for that sunlight that wormed its way around the edges of the curtains. He wanted to check his email so badly but knew he couldn't. They could back track his IP address and find him in nothing flat. Even if he routed it through several servers, a savvy computer person could still track him down. He did the next best thing he could and scoured the newspapers near his school for death notices or stories that might indicate if any other of his friends had been killed. The tears came when he saw two others of his friends had likewise suffered fatal accidents, one an electrocution and another had been mugged and knifed. Checking on the news where Jessica had lived, he found one of her brothers had been in a fatal car accident. He couldn't call and warn them, but even if he could, what the hell was he supposed to say? Hey, be careful, demons are hunting you because of me. Sure. That would work just great.

Mike's funeral was already over and so was Jessica's. Not that they had a body to bury in Jessica's case. It was just a memorial service. That Sam wasn't there…what would they think? To them, Sam simply fell off the face of the Earth. That was the way it had to be. It practically killed his soul, but he couldn't risk being suckered out into the open. He didn't doubt his friends would continue to be picked off one by one, trying to draw him out. If he didn't come out of hiding for his almost fiancé and his best friend, did they really think he would for anyone else? Maybe they expected him to call or hell, who knew. Sam didn't have any friends outside of school except for Bobby and Jim and a few other hunters who he knew. It surely couldn't be that much of a stretch for them to poke about at either place and see if Sam was there. That thought suddenly concerned him. Bobby was out alone. What if…?

Soft sounds coming from the couch snapped his attention away from the computer immediately. For anyone else, the barest of noises, the very slight shifting would have meant little, but for Dean, Sam knew he was having a nightmare. He saw the thin streak of a tear leave a glistening trail on his brother's face.

He hadn't decided if he was actually going to try to wake Dean up the way he implied he might, and Bobby's order not to have sex on the couch rather put a crimp in that idea anyhow. Sam knew Bobby was making that request because the couch was old and probably wouldn't withstand the weight and stress Dean and Sam might put it through. With Dean's nightmare, any thought of giving Dean a nice hard woodie to awake to was gone. Instead Sam sat on the floor by Dean and slowly ran his fingers through the man's hair, whispering to him that he was safe. He hoped whatever dream Dean was having was chased away by his presence and reassurances. He wiped away Dean's single tear, then planted a light kiss on Dean's lips.

The light gentle touch to his face was both familiar and calming. Cherished as it always was whenever his dream boy came to him, trying to take the pain away. He had come that night too. After it was over, thankfully and not during as he sometimes appeared when Dean was being punished. Dean never wanted the younger, so much more innocent, boy to see when his father trained him that way. He knew the boy did not understand why he was injured so, what kinds of injuries they were, what the scratches and bruises on his hips meant, why his lips were broken and so swollen…

It didn’t matter. Dean was just thankful that he was there afterward. Leaning his face into the almost insubstantial touch to his cheek. A few more tears leaking from his eyes even as they were wiped away. The soft sweet kiss that always told him just how much the boy in his dreams cared about him.

Except something was different. The touch to his cheek was not insubstantial, the fingers on his face and caressing through his hair warm as were the soft gentle lips. Dean’s eyes slid open slowly, confusion flickering in their depths for a moment before he focused on Sam. The dark memories releasing him from their grip and Dean smiled a little at the younger man. His brother. His master.

Dean sighed softly as he turned his face a little more into the gentle caress. He leaned up a little, pressing his lips firmer against the younger man’s. His tongue darting out to taste and silently beg for more.

The confusion in Dean's opening eyes brought forth a reassuring smile from Sam.

"I'm here Dean. You're safe," he said softly as he slowly ran his fingers through Dean's hair before he wiped away new tears. Dean turning into his touch made his heart flutter. Kissing him again, he felt Dean respond and press his lips harder against his own. That light brush of Dean's tongue against his lips and Dean's pleading eyes made him open his mouth in invitation. He would do whatever it took to wash away the nightmare from Dean's mind. They had a good hour or two before any real risk of Bobby returning. He reminded himself, not on the couch.

As Dean's tongue investigated his mouth his hand drifted to his brother's groin, palming Dean through his jeans, slowly stroking the hardening shaft. He slid his other hand behind his brother's neck, playing with the fine hairs there before cupping the back of Dean's head. He swallowed Dean's moans and finally reached up to the button on Dean's jeans, slowly undoing it. When Dean's kissing grew more passionate, Sam broke it off, gasping for air before kissing Dean lightly on his lips and then pushing his own tongue into Dean's mouth. He didn't want frantic and hard. He wanted slow, he wanted to completely distract Dean from the nightmare, wanted to make Dean remember nothing but his loving touches.

He played his fingers along the waistband of Dean's pants, dipping down deeper then running his hands underneath Dean's shirt, searching out the lines of muscle, then returning to rub Dean through his pants. Slowly unzipping the zipper he reached inside keeping the cloth of his brother's underwear between his hand and Dean's member. As before, he ran his fingers along the waistband, this time caressing his way to the small of Dean's back. He dipped his hand underneath the jeans and ran a finger down Dean's crack and between his cheeks until he found that tight hole. He brushed against and over it, loving the sounds Dean was making, his own throat echoing some of the same moans. His hand drifted up Dean's back then, caressing those muscles, kneading his fingers into the tension there.

When he returned his hand to Dean's groin he dove under the shorts and stroked the bare stiffening flesh, feeling his own cock responding and pressing against the material of his jeans. No, this time he wanted it to be about Dean. His brother could pleasure him without coming when he did. He had no idea if he could or not, but he thought he would try. He wanted to make Dean come so hard he practically passed out from the pleasure. He remembered Dean fucking him through his orgasm and how utterly amazing that had been. So he hadn't gotten to give Dean the waking woodie. He would make this even better.

Dean moaned softly into the kiss as he felt his brother’s hand slide down to his groin, and he parted his legs a little more to give the younger man stroking his cock better access. Their tongues twining together lazily in Sam’s mouth and his flesh responded eagerly. Hardening beneath his brother’s touch.

He moaned again, louder, when he felt Sam’s fingers unbutton his jeans and he tried to kiss his brother harder, deeper, nipping lightly on the younger man’s lips, but Sam pulled back. Breaking the contact between them leaving Dean panting and confused, wondering if he’d done something wrong. But Sam’s lips did not leave his for long, his brother kissing him licking his lips for access and Dean understood, parting them eagerly as he let the younger man take control of the kiss.

Small whimpers and moans of pleasure eagerly escaped his mouth into Sam’s as his brother’s hands caressed him gently. Touching his hair and neck. Sliding along his waist and stomach. He honestly wasn’t sure whether to feel relaxed or aroused by the gentle touches. Though when Sam unzipped him finally and slid his hand into his jeans to caress his cock once more Dean couldn’t help but lift his hips with another eager groan.

Only to whimper again at the loss when Sam’s hand moved from his groin to his back. However when his brother’s hand slid down to his ass, his fingers playing between his cheeks and over his hole, Dean couldn’t help but push back into the touch. He was so hard now he was beginning to leak, his precome leaving a damp spot on his shorts and he wanted so badly to feel Sam’s fingers inside of him or on his cock. Whatever Sam wanted…

But Sam’s teasing fingers moved away again, gently caressing and kneading along his back and it only relaxed him a little, his whole body thrumming with need by that point. Then finally Sam’s fingers returned to his front, sliding down and underneath his underwear to wrap around his aching cock. Dean couldn’t help arching his back, lifting his hips, and thrusting into his brother’s palm with a whimpering moan.

He had wanted to give Dean a long couple hours of gentle loving but Dean seemed desperate and needy. Dean had moaned often during their lovemaking but the sounds he was making now was more whimpers desiring Sam's touch. Dean was already bucking up against Sam's hand and Sam had barely teased him hard. Whatever the nightmare had been he apparently needed more rather than less. As Sam grew in knowledge about how Dean had been reared, injuries he didn't understand when he was young were now becoming all too clear. The nightmare had likely been sexual, probably rape, and the older man needed Sam to erase that. How best to do that? He thought Dean needed his touch. Just as he had desperately needed his brother's touch when the loss of Jessica was at its freshest, though by no means had the pain faded, Dean needed his now.

Then he better get what he needed before he got Dean any harder.

He broke away from Dean's kiss as he continued to stroke Dean's shaft. "I want to do this right," he whispered. "Stroke yourself if you need to. I'll be right back."

He planted a light kiss on Dean's lips before pushing himself to his feet, hating leaving Dean like this. Maybe he ought to just start carrying lube with him, or place some in strategic locations around the house. Yeah, Bobby would love that.

Dashing to the closet he grabbed two blankets, dropping them on the floor in the living room on his way to the kitchen where he knew there was another first aid kit. Pawing through it he found the KY, closed up the kit and put it away. He hurried back to Dean's side, pushed the coffee table out of the way, and laid a thick blanket on the floor. Since Bobby would kill him if they broke the couch, the floor was the next best thing. He didn't want to make Dean walk all the way downstairs. There was the guest bedroom just up the hall with the twin bed…no, the floor would work just fine. He looked over at Dean with love in his eyes and glanced back to the blanket meaningfully.

Dean panted softly when Sam broke their kiss, watching his brother through eyes heavy lidded with lust, as he bucked up into the younger man’s hand. But his expression shifted quickly to confusion despite the desire thrumming through his veins when Sam’s hand left him and the younger man moved away.

He didn’t understand where Sam was going or why. The younger man telling him to… stroke himself… if he needed to. Do this right?

Dean didn’t touch himself of course. Dean was well practiced at denying his own need, sometimes as a punishment, sometimes simply for his master’s amusement. He simply didn’t understand why now. Had he done something wrong? Had his reactions somehow displeased Sam? He had been willing and eager, as always. Perhaps he had enjoyed too much?

Most of the time Azazel had been amused by how eager and wonton he behaved, begging for any touch, writhing and moaning like a good little whore. But sometimes, he would be punished for taking too much pleasure. He never knew when those times would be, however. Perhaps now was one of those times?

When Sam returned, Dean honestly did not know what to expect. He watched closely as Sam moved the table and laid the blanket out on the floor. Still he did not move until Sam looked at him and then back to the blanket and Dean nodded in understanding, pushing himself up quickly from the couch and kneeling on the floor instead in front of his master. Waiting.

When had Dean shifted from being so eager for him, so bold, to being so subservient? Had he said something, done something that brought this change? He missed the stronger Dean already. When Dean knelt in front of him, head bowed, his breath caught in his chest. How did he tell Dean this wasn't what he wanted without confusing the man more? It seemed as if anything he did now brought confusion into his brother's eyes. It was beginning to frustrate him. He liked it better when he didn't know Dean was doing what he thought Sam wanted.

Kneeling in front of Dean he lifted his brother's chin with two fingers so they were eye-to-eye. "I never want you kneel like this before me again unless you're giving me a blow job or I tell you to. I liked you being bold and strong around me. I liked you showing me new things. I don't know when exactly you …" Sam paused, trying hard to phrase his words properly, "…switched your alliance to me. I've never been a master before, Dean. I'm still trying to learn how to be a good master so I'm bound to do things to confuse you. It's not typical in mainstream America for someone to own someone else. I want you desperately as my lover, as my friend, as my confidant, as my brother. I want you free from Azazel's control and from anyone's control. I know the idea of you being free of everyone's control is beyond your grasp. You serve. That's what you do. That's all you do. You are your master's dog. And I am deeply honored that you consider me worthy enough to be your new master. I know you probably think that you are the one undeserving but after everything you've lived through, you are so very strong." Sam stroked Dean's cheek with his fingers. "I am so proud of you for having the strength to love me enough to leave Azazel."

He smiled at Dean. "I never want to hurt you. If I tell you to do something and you don't understand, ask me. You always have permission to ask me anything. Maybe I won't answer you, but you always have permission to ask. You have permission, if we're sitting down to eat, to start eating before I do. It's okay with me if you're served before I am. It's okay if I stop eating first, for you to keep eating if you want to. Or stop eating before I'm done. It's okay if you want to get a shower, for you to get one without me and without asking me if you can. It's okay to tell me if you're tired, hungry, hurting, cold, or whatever. Wouldn't you do these things for yourself if Azazel wasn't around? I want you happy. I want you comfortable. Because I love you so much, I may put your needs before my own. That's what a good and loving master should be like. I doubt Azazel was ever like that toward you, but I'm not Azazel."

He kissed Dean deeply then and slowly guided him backwards until Dean was lying down, sprawling himself over his brother. If his brother wanted eager, needed eager, then that's what Sam would give him. He moaned as he pressed his lips more firmly against his brother's, running one hand through his brother's hair while tracing down Dean's side with his other. Sliding his hand down fair enough, he got it under Dean's shirt.

"We both have too many clothes on, don't you think?" Sam said in between pants as he kissed his brother.

Dean lifted his head at his brother’s urging, blinking a little in surprise when Sam told him not to kneel in front of him. That Sam had… liked him… better… when he had been “bold” and “strong” for him. Before… before Dean had started treating Sam like he was his master.

Honestly, Dean could not pinpoint an exact moment in time when he had stopped thinking of Azazel as his master and pledged himself to Sam instead. It was not like the switching of a light, on and off. It had been a… shift… so gradual that he hardly became aware of it until it had already happened. If it had happened any other way, if it had at any time been a conscious change, a conscious decision, Dean wasn’t sure it would have ever happened. A slave choosing his own master? The idea was almost laughably absurd.

Had it started back in the church? When he had first made love to Sam? Or when he asked Sam not to release him from his chains because he… didn’t want to return to Azazel, wanting to stay with Sam? Maybe when he had begged the hunter to release him from his bonds when Sam had lost control so he could stop Sam from going to his master? Or when he had used his knowledge of demon magic and his own blood to protect the church, to protect his brother? How about when he had joined his unconscious brother in the car, choosing Sam… or the first time he let the younger man fuck him… or even earlier still when they had been merely ghosts to each other…

No, he didn’t know when it was. How it had happened. Dean only knew that he loved Sam, loved him more than anything, needed him more than anything, his only desires now to protect him and please him, and he was so afraid of doing the opposite. Of displeasing Sam… he didn’t want to be “free”, he never wanted to be free, he wanted to be Sam’s! Always!

No, Sam was not like his demon master. Sam was nothing like him. Yet Dean had been so afraid of displeasing Sam he had shifted his manners to that which he knew Azazel had enjoyed most. What pleased his demon master most, how Azazel had trained him to behave in his presence, thinking it would please Sam as well… that in itself was inexcusable. Because Sam was not the demon Dean once served, he should only be doing what Sam wanted. If Sam wanted him the way he was before… he had thought of Sam as his master… then that was what he would be. He would be anything Sam wanted him to be.

Dean moaned eagerly into his brother’s mouth as Sam kissed him deeply and pushed him back against the blanket. Wrapping his arms around the younger man, his fingers digging into his brother’s back as he arched up into the hand that slid underneath his shirt to caress his stomach. Nodding in agreement that less clothes was definitely better right now as he licked and nipped at his brother’s lips.

Hooking one of his legs around the younger man’s hips, Dean quickly flipped them over so that Sam was beneath him. Pinning Sam to the floor he grinned down at the younger man playfully before he pushed himself up. Straddling his brother’s hips as he slowly pealed his shirt off of him over his head, tossing it carelessly aside. Then he proceeded to do the same with Sam’s. Grasping his shirt from the bottom he began to pull it up off over the younger man’s head, however before he got it free of Sam’s arms he twisted the material tightly, bunching it and trapping his brother’s wrists, and pinning them to the floor with one hand.

“Much better…” Dean practically purred, still grinning down at the younger man Dean began to rock his hips, rubbing his groin and his ass against his brother’s trapped erection. He slid his hand up Sam’s now bare stomach and chest, tweaking Sam’s nipples.

He watched his brother closely as he tried to explain how hard this was for him to be Dean's master. He didn't begin to know how to treat someone as subservient. People were paid in customer service to treat you as the boss. Or if you worked for anyone, you 'served' the boss, but that was entirely a different animal. Outside of the office, everyone was equal, more or less. He knew he could tell Dean to jump off a bridge and Dean wouldn't hesitate. He could tell Dean to put a gun to his head and Dean would. And that just scared the fuck out of him. If he said something wrong, Dean might misconstrue it and there could be all sorts of bad results.

He saw the flicker of misery in his brother's eyes as he pointed out he wasn't Azazel. That he didn't want Dean to act like he was Azazel. That was when he kissed him and he felt Dean being eager, ready to please him and while that was good and nice, he missed that more, well, evil streak his brother had. The one who teased him sexually, who gave him everything he wanted and needed whether he realized it or not. He…liked…Dean being dominant. That was almost absurd enough to make him laugh. He never would have thought that of himself. Still, he had really liked it when he fucked Dean in the shower and that was his intent now. Whatever had been in Dean's dream, if it had been sexual, then he wanted Dean's memories replaced with new ones. Ones of him fucking his brother. But he enjoyed Dean taking control maybe even more. Maybe because he knew Dean had never had a lot of control and it was a gift Sam could give him. As he ran he hand under Dean's shirt and along his bare skin he shook his head to himself. It was probably a bad idea anyhow---

Sam's eyes widened with surprise to suddenly find himself being pinned by Dean. He watched as Dean stripped off his shirt and he couldn't help but admire those muscles. Damn did his brother have one helluva hot body and his cock agreed. He let Dean help getting his shirt up over his head and ….shit. Dean had his arms bound up as tightly as any shackles or rope. It was the devil's own gleam in Dean's eyes, but Sam also saw the love and without a doubt, the knowledge that all he had to do was tell Dean to stop and he would. Knowing that, he relaxed, matching Dean's grin. Yes, he definitely liked this Dean better.

Dean's teasing pressure against his erection had him moaning while he began to grow harder. He arched against the callused hand that slid up his body and when Dean tweaked his nipple, Sam gasped and arched more. He wondered what Dean would do if he didn't tell him anything, didn't ask for anything. What would Dean think he wanted? He did need to define a couple simple rules though.

"We have two hours, no breaking furniture, no sex on the couch, and the lube is in my back pocket." Sam grinned broader and didn't say anything more, waiting, letting Dean do what he wanted.

Seeing Sam’s pleased grin in response to his actions was all the reward Dean could ever want or need. Hearing Sam moan, seeing the younger man arch in pleasure in response to his touch and knowing he was pleasing him… it was all Dean wanted, it was all he ever wanted…

Though he stilled when Sam spoke, listening carefully to the younger man’s words. His head tilted to the side a little, as though expecting more, but when Sam said nothing Dean merely nodded in understanding before he leaned in to claim his brother’s lips in a slow easy kiss. Teasing his tongue into the younger man’s mouth and slowly twining their tongues together as he ran his hand over Sam’s chest again and again.

He nipped and teased his brother’s lips gently with his teeth as he slid his hand lower, down Sam’s stomach once more, tracing the definition of his muscles as he went. When his fingers brushed along the waistband of Sam’s jeans Dean finally pulled back. His softly panting breaths washing over the younger man’s moist lips as he gazed into his brother’s eyes. One hand still twined in the shirt that trapped the younger man’s wrists while his other deftly worked open the button to his jeans.

Dean eased the zipper down, letting his fingers brush over his brother’s prominent bulge in the process. Impatient to feel Sam’s hot eager flesh in his hand Dean wasted no time slipping his hand into his brother’s jeans and shorts, curling around the hot column of flesh he found with a low moan of pleasure at how hot and heavy Sam felt in his hand as he began to stroke the younger man.

He was pleased Dean listened, something the "old" Dean might not have done and at some level that eased his mind while perhaps a very small part of him would have been pissed at, but also liked a little rebellion. Though hell, there was plenty of furniture around that the two of them wouldn't break and somehow he wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up on one of them. The thought of Sam bent over Bobby's desk while Dean fucked him from behind flashed into his mind.

Sam welcomed Dean's kiss, though made him work a little to get his tongue in. The sweeping of Dean's caress across his chest felt so good and as he worked lower, Sam's cock was definitely ready for some attention. He nipped back at Dean's lips. When he felt Dean's hand reached his waist and felt Dean's hot breath whisper over him, he tensed in anticipation. He groaned as Dean slowly opened the zipper, bucking a little as Dean's hand whispered over his erection.

When Dean reached inside with barely a tease and gripped him, Sam bit his lip and moaned, pulling a little at his bound arms. He fucked up into the warm hand, feeling the precome already leaking. He wanted to tell Dean to jack him off or kiss him, but he refused. Let Dean do what he wanted. With each long easy stroke Sam bucked up with a groan.

Though he wasn't about to tell Dean what to do, he couldn't help his moan. "Oh, God, Dean, feels so fucking good."

Dean grinned at the sounds Sam made, the way the younger man thrust up into his hand, as he ran his fingers up and down the length of his brother’s thick shaft. Gathering the leaking precome from the dripping head and smearing it down, slicking the younger man’s dick. Letting his brother fuck into his grip easier.

For a long time that was all he did. Alternating his strokes between fast and hard to light and almost teasing. Sometimes gripping Sam so tightly that the friction was probably almost painful rather than pleasurable, and then switching to holding him so loose he barely touched him at all with his teasing fingertips. All the while watching Sam’s face closely, listening to his moans and gasps of pleasure, seeing what made his brother groan the loudest and writhe beneath him.

Finally Dean pulled his hand out from his brother’s jeans, his fingers wet with the younger man’s leaked fluids. Leaving a moist trail up the length of Sam’s stomach and chest as he slid his hand up, pausing to toy with his brother’s nipples as he grinned down at the younger man with no small amount of mischief.

“Time for another lesson, Sammy.” Dean said, and with barely a thought he called on his powers to keep his brother’s arms pinned to the floor above his head while the elder man removed his hand. He sat back on his brother’s hips then, tracing up and down his brother’s chest with both hands now. “If you can break my hold, then I’ll let you come.”

Dean knew it was probably not the best idea to do this outside of the “panic room” that would shield Sam’s powers, but this was also one of the best ways to teach Sam control. The panic room was a “crutch” in a way. Sam would try much harder to keep a lid on himself if he knew any big “flares” would alert demons searching for them. Besides he was only applying the smallest fraction of power to keeping Sam’s arms pinned, Sam would barely have to try to actually break it, and Dean was ready to contain his brother’s powers if things went out of control.

Dean leaned down over Sam then, flicking his tongue out to caress one of his brother’s already peaked nipples, swirling around and flicking it gently as his fingers continued to play with the other. He licked and sucked, moaning at the taste of his brother’s precome that Dean’s fingers had left along his brother’s skin. His tongue eagerly lapping at the trail as he mapped out every curve and muscle of Sam’s chest with his lips and tongue.

It was beautiful, wonderful, delicious…torture. Dean just continued to stroke him, kept him hard, making him grow harder by the minute. The slow strokes brought out long soft moans from Sam's throat. He rolled his head, his eyes shutting as he couldn't do anything but seek more pressure. The fast strokes brought almost relief as he gasped and moaned, thrusting harder, murmuring his brother's name. He would be coming soon, the painful pleasure that he didn't want to end would, but he was nearing the point where he needed it to. But then Dean slowed down again and he'd have cursed his brother except then his brother gripped him hard and Sam couldn't even speak as he bucked up against the sudden needed pressure, tugging harder at his pinned arms. Slow and fast and slow and fast. And then the feather light touch that had him whimpering and rolling his hips to try to regain that pressure, practically fucking air until Dean was back to the long slow strokes that nearly had Sam trembling as cursed and praised and moaned his brother's name.

When Dean took his hand out Sam thought he was going to die. He thrust up against nothing but air now and he whimpered as his heavy balls ached. He felt Dean's come wetted hand inch its way up his stomach, swirling with the sweat that Sam was drenched in at this point.

"Dean," Sam panted breathlessly. Finish me," he begged. Fuck not telling Dean what to do.

Arching and bucking was all Sam could do when Dean ran his fingers over his erect nipples. He saw Dean's eyes and knew he was in trouble. Not the shit he's going to put a knife in my stomach sort of trouble but more the shit he's going to make me come four or five times this time sort of trouble, if he lets me come at all. That mischievous glint spoke volumes.

Lesson? Dean had him so hard and at the edge, what new torture was his brother going to do to him now? He was supposed to what?? He could barely think let alone try to use his powers. If he used his powers now, he would surely lose control and they weren't…they were out in the open! There wasn't the panic room to hide his uncontrolled powers. When he had tried to just levitate the book he had shredded it!

Dean's two hands roamed over his chest and he still bucked occasionally, hoping his brother would take pity on him but he knew that voice. He knew that look. He had to break his brother's hold. He arched his neck as Dean's mouth began to suck on his nipple, as that hot tongue traced its aureole then came back to his nipple again, then began tracing its way all over his chest, Dean's moans making him fucking harder if that were even possible. Dean's other hand toyed and twisted Sam's and he practically writhed under Dean.

He needed to come, he so needed to come. He needed Dean's touch on him, his mouth on him. Tugging as hard as he could, he couldn't budge the iron grip on his wrists.

"Dean, please," Sam begged, gasping, but it was as if Dean hadn't even heard him. His brother just continued to moan and lick at his chest. Sam pulled at his invisible bonds again. There was only one choice. He had to do what Dean said (and damned if that didn't thrill him just a little bit).

He couldn't just open up, he couldn't just assume the power was going to be well behaved. His heart was racing, his adrenaline was surely through the roof. He couldn't let the demons find them. He couldn't. He wasn't ready, he wouldn't be able to save his brother…

He searched deep, like he was looking for a small loose thread, just enough, just barely enough to forge into a weapon that he could use. He had no idea how much power Dean was using, but it didn't feel like a lot…and all his concentration went out the window when Dean went back to sucking on his nipples. Dammit!

It took him a minute to find that thread again but this time he had frustration mixed with anger and the thread seemed to fairly glow and call to him. He wouldn't be tricked….the things Dean could do with his mouth…no, focus…the brush against his hard member made him buck and whimper. God dammit Dean was intentionally trying to wreck his concentration. Every time he got close! He practically growled underneath his moans and grabbed hold of that tiny string of power. The only thing he could think to do was treat it like a rubber band. He didn't want to hurt his brother…okay maybe he did want to thump him one at the moment, but he didn't want to hurt him, not really. So he twanged that little string a bare light smack right between Dean's mischievous eyes.

Dean couldn’t deny, he was extremely impressed how well Sam was doing. The elder man carefully monitored Sam as he felt his brother reaching for a small thread of his power. His own hovering over them both like a blanket, or a net, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice if Sam began to lose control. But the younger man didn’t.

In fact, Sam did so well, Dean did his best to distract his brother for two reasons. One, because making these “lessons” too easy for Sam was no way the younger man was going to learn in the short time they had, and two, because rarely would Sam need to call upon his powers when there were no other distractions. Rather he would have to concentrate and deal with what was happening around him as well, like now.

He felt Sam reaching for that small thread of power, felt it slip away, felt Sam trying again, almost…

Then all of a sudden Dean reeled back, startled by the light smack to his forehead between his eyes. It surprised him enough he almost lost his own control, almost released the younger man’s arms from his grip. Dean couldn’t help it, he laughed.

“Good. Very good.” Dean praised the younger man, though he had a feeling Sam wouldn’t appreciate his pride right now, but there was definitely another reward he could give his brother.

Sliding his hands down to Sam’s waist he tugged the younger man’s jeans and underwear down to the middle of his thighs. His brother’s hard and eager dick bouncing up, pointing eagerly to his bellybutton, dripping precome and Dean’s mouth practically watered at the sight. But he had something else in mind.

He quickly pushed his own jeans and underwear down, just enough to expose his ass as he straddled his brother’s hips. Dean gripped the younger man’s cock in one hand, steadying it, and pressing the blunt head against his entrance. His other hand braced on Sam’s stomach as he began to ease himself down onto his brother’s thick flesh, moaning at the stretching burn as his muscles gave way to allow the younger man’s dick into him.

He'd done it! He thought triumphantly, watching as Dean stumbled back. Not too hard, just hard enough…and his fucking arms were still held firm. He didn't know if he wanted to snarl or whimper. He did know he just wanted to come. Dean's laugh did not help, though his compliment did not seem empty. He really did seem pleased even though Sam hadn't managed to break his hold.

Sam lifted his head as Dean moved to his groin and pulled Sam's pants open and down. His tremendously hard cock was finally free of those binding jeans and he gasped a sigh of relief. He wasn't coming but it was better at least. He watched as Dean pushed his own jeans down, rather like he was getting ready to moon someone. When Dean took hold of Sam's cock his head fell back onto the blanket once again. Finally. Finally he was going to be allowed to come. He suddenly felt Dean's puckered flesh, that tight ring of muscle at his leaking tip and moaned as Dean slowly slid down on Sam's needy cock.

He felt that tight heat around him and groaned. He didn't think he could have stopped if he had to as he began a slow thrust into Dean's ass, trying to hit that spot Dean always managed to hit for him. He was so hard it hurt. He thrust harder and faster, pulling at his bonds without success as Dean rode him. There was nothing then, nothing but he and Dean as he pumped in and out of his brother, listening to the sounds Dean made, those sounds making him work harder pushing up into his brother, Sam's own groans crescendoing in volume the closer and closer he got to release.

A handful of threads suddenly unraveled inside of him. One thin tendril reached up and wrapped around that invisible bond that held Sam's arms, snapping that bond effortlessly. Then the other tendrils snaked out quietly, discreetly, and webbed around Dean, finding every sensitive spot Dean had and stimulating them, calling softly to Dean's power. Sam's control was pure emotion, wanting Dean to feel how good Dean was making him feel. The tendrils seemed to wrap around Dean's cock, gripped and squeezed his prostrate, and bit and twisted at his nipples. When Sam gave those final thrusts, so did the threads twist inside of Dean, mirroring Sam's pleasure. Sam arched suddenly, plunging deeply and when he finally came, the threads transmitted every last bit of Sam's orgasm straight into Dean.

Dean threw his head back with a moan as he sank down onto his brother’s hard cock, taking him all the way inside his body, and loving how full Sam made him feel when he was balls deep in his ass. As his brother began to thrust up into him, Dean began lifting himself up and down, riding the younger man’s cock with enthusiasm. Squeezing and releasing his tight muscles around the hot throbbing flesh inside of him, trying to give Sam all the pleasure he could. Lifting his head and forcing his eyes open to watch his brother writhe in pleasure beneath him. Groaning deep in his chest every time the head of the younger man’s cock brushed deep inside over that tight bundle of nerves that gave such pleasure.

He kept up with Sam’s increasing pace easily. Coming down faster when the younger man began to fuck up into him harder. Whispering encouragement’s he wasn’t even sure that Sam heard over the sounds of pleasure the younger man was making. Dean loved and cherished every single one. Loved the expression of ecstasy written all over Sam’s face, a perfect gift he would always cherish.

Of course Dean felt it immediately when Sam’s power began to awaken again. He wasn’t really expecting it, nor was he ready for it. However concern quickly burned its way through the lust and pleasure he was feeling and Dean stilled, even as Sam continued to fuck up into him. He was afraid that Sam was starting to lose control over his power and it would be another explosion like in the basement or the church...

He was ready of course to try to contain Sam’s power if that was the case... Instead the fine control Sam was suddenly displaying over his powers as the younger man easily broke the hold Dean had on his wrists astounded him. But not so much as when Sam’s power slid over him, touching and caressing him as though his brother’s mouth and hands were suddenly everywhere on him, and Dean couldn’t help gasping sharply in pleasure.

“Sam!” Dean shouted his brother’s name in surprise and pleasure as every sensitive place on his body was stimulated, his nipples, his cock, inside of him. Dean couldn’t stop writhing over the younger man even if he wanted to. Gasping and moaning as Sam fucked him, and Sam’s power touched him everywhere, gave him so much pleasure at once he felt like he just might go mad from it.

He wasn’t sure he didn’t when suddenly he felt his brother’s pleasure slam into him as though it was his own, and then suddenly it was his own. His back arching as he cried out at the top of his lungs, spilling his seed hotly all over the younger man’s chest. He couldn’t tell where Sam’s pleasure ended and his began, it was one in the same. Every wave that hit him seeming more intense than the last until he finally collapsed heavily on his brother’s chest. Shuddering as though every nerve ending in his body was on fire and gasping as though he’d just run for a hundred miles.

The timbre of Sam's voice mimicked Dean's as every pulse of pleasure echoed between them. Every moment of ecstasy Dean felt, he felt. Every ripple of delight Sam felt, Dean felt. The younger brother could tell he was guiding his own power, and that even in the throes of passion he had it under perfect control. He just had no fucking clue how he was doing it.

With every pulse of pleasure Sam knew he was somehow tightening the web around them, entwining every thread of his own power with every thread of Dean's. They were one. One in pleasure. One in power. One in soul. The threads of Sam's abilities traced their way back to Dean's mind and attempted to invade but Dean's walls stood between them. Reluctantly they fell back. The power thirsted to burrow through Dean's walls, hungering to learn how the well-trained man controlled his abilities but Sam's fear of hurting Dean kept that power from pushing deeper and possibly causing injury without meaning to. The darkness, reigned back from its goal, snapped and snarled at Sam, frustrated by the way he thwarted its desires. Mentally Sam gathered the multiple threads in his hands and wrapped then tightly in his fingers, just as he wrapped his freed arms lovingly around his older brother who collapsed onto him.

He kissed Dean slowly and felt the power twist yet again as if it twisted inside out. The black anger transformed and instead of trying to force its way in to learn Dean's secrets or striking against Sam's control, it sought to share its own secrets with the older man. As Sam's love for his brother spun the threads' own darkness into golden filaments, that same power attempted to coax the black of Dean's power to mirror its gold, seeking out Dean's love for Sam as the pivot point of change.

Dean panted heavily against the sweat slick skin of his brother’s shoulder. The waves of pleasure traveling back and forth between them making his body continue to shudder in the younger man’s arms. So intense… everything… he’d never felt anything like this before in his life. Not only the physical pleasure Sam had invoked in his own body, but feeling Sam’s as well… sharing the younger man’s pleasure. Feeling him… his love…

Perfect. Utterly perfect.

At first Dean didn’t even realize it when he felt Sam’s powers beginning to try to dig deeper into him. Trying to force their way past his barriers inside his mind, and it was a good thing he was well trained enough not to automatically drop those walls. But by the time he did feel that push, that attempted invasion, they were already drawing back. Sam was drawing them back, and Dean relaxed even as he didn’t even remember tensing in the first place.

The elder man lifted his head to look down into his brother’s eyes. Feeling Sam struggle with his power for a moment, ready to help him if he needed it, before Sam gained control over it and Dean smiled down at the younger man. Sam was learning quicker than Dean ever anticipated.

Before he could offer any other kind of praise, verbal or otherwise, Sam was pulling him in for a soft yet deep kiss and Dean went willingly. He parted his lips for his brother’s tongue and when he felt the shift in Sam’s power, felt it reaching out for him again, this time he met it half way. The tendrils of their power winding together so tightly and flaring so brightly Dean felt nearly blinded by it and he honestly couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began. It didn’t matter.

They were one…

Sam felt it as Dean's power reached out for his own and the way they interlaced. He felt the shift in Dean's darkness. It wasn't hard and defined; it was little more than a shadow, maybe little more than a glimmer. But still, some of Dean's power answered Sam's and found the gold. His soul was touched, a delicate lace webbing faint among the dark ropes, but there all the same. Destruction and hate was no longer the only thing that made up his brother's soul. Creation and love existed and made up a point from which a fresh start may one day be made. Sam soul too was touched as the pure darkness of Dean's power bled into and mixed with his own. He would have to feed and accept the darkness, the darkness he would need to master to save his brother. He would pay that price. He would pay any price.

As he investigated Dean's mouth with his tongue, the web of power cocooned and protected them. And that moment nothing could touch either of them, not the Chosen One with the seed of dark, not the Stolen One with the seed of light. They were one. They were balance. They were perfect.

And then the web of power dissipated like a spider web in a strong wind. Sam cried out at the sudden loss of connection with his brother and the sudden jolt back to a world made up of more than just the two of them.

It was a little like breaking the surface of water when you’d been drowning. Like taking that first breath of air that your lungs were dying for, needed more than anything, but was so painful at the same time you almost wished to be pulled under again. When the strange web of power that had been binding them together broke, Dean was left reeling. Gasping and shuddering on top of the younger man, thrown back into his own body with such force it was dizzying and a wonder he didn’t simply black out from the force of it.

That… he had no idea what that was… He had never heard of anything like it. Never experienced… For a moment it was as though their very souls had touched. Bled together. Became one… He had felt it. Felt Sam’s soul touch his. That bright flare of light… and he had felt his own touch Sam’s. So dark… tainted… If it had went on any longer…

No, that could never happen again. Whatever it was, no matter how… right… it had felt. He could not allow Sam to be tainted in that way. He would not.

Still gasping for breath, Dean pulled back. Just far enough to look into his brother’s eyes, gently caressing the younger man’s face, running his fingers through his hair, petting. Searching for the darkness he had left inside Sam, but he could not see it with his eyes alone. He could feel it, however. Just as he felt the glimmer of warm light Sam had left inside of him…

“I’m sorry…” Dean finally panted. “We can’t… do that again…”

The touch of his brother's fingers on his face and hair seemed so paltry when compared to the union they had just experienced. His cock was still inside Dean though he had grown soft and even that wonderful feeling of being encased by Dean seemed pale. He didn't understand the pain and confusion in his brother's eyes. Surely that was just as amazing for him as it had been for Sam?

Dean's words confused him then. Why the hell couldn't they do that again? Next time, since Dean knew Sam's power wanted in, maybe he could let it in and maybe Sam could see how Dean had such good control. It could save him days or even weeks of training maybe. And he wanted to do it again. He wanted to be…one…with Dean. The way they had touched each other was like nothing he had ever experienced. He didn't have a bald-faced clue how he had done it, but he really wanted to do it again. He didn’t' think Dean had done it at any rate, though he could be wrong. Maybe with each time they came together like that he could chase away some of the dark and leave the light in his brother's soul. Certainly he knew he needed to grow harder and darker if he had a chance in hell of beating Azazel.

"Bullshit," Sam said. "We can and we will. I don't have any idea how it happened, but I want it to happen again. We can learn from each other a whole lot faster. Face it, Dean. I'm weak. If Azazel walked in that door right now, he would swat me like a fly. This power…it's not made up of sugar and spice. I've got to grow darker if I am going to control it. If I don't, it will control me. You know I'm right. And if I have to pull rank and call due my rights as your master about all this, I will. God only knows how long we can stay hidden from the demons. We may have hours. Maybe days or weeks, but not months. Eventually they will start looking for me at the homes of hunters and Bobby's will surely be one of the first places they check."

Dean’s eyes widened at his brother’s response, though he couldn’t honestly say he was surprised. At least, he wasn’t surprised by all of it. He wasn’t surprised that Sam wanted to do it again, if only because the younger man obviously didn’t understand the full ramifications of what had happened. He wasn’t surprised that Sam tried to sway him by appealing to his need to protect his brother from Azazel. He was surprised however when the younger man “threatened” to flat out order him, as his master, to do it… something that Sam hadn’t done until now.

Learn from each other…

“No.” The word escaped his lips barely more than a whisper, and it shocked Dean probably more than it did Sam. Then he was shoving himself away from the younger man as though his very touch would burn his brother. Taint him. Defile him. An expression of pain crossing his features as he stumbled to his feet that had nothing to do with the abrupt way that Sam’s flesh had slid from his body and everything to do with the realization that the priest was right. Dean was more demon than man and being with Sam like this would only damn him.

He would not allow that to happen. He would not allow Sam to be tainted by the darkness inside of him. He. Would. Not.

Without looking at his brother Dean grabbed his clothes, throwing them on as quickly as he could.

No? Sam didn't know what startled him more, Dean's refusal, the sudden way the older man pulled free of him, or the pain he saw crease Dean's face. Dean had to see that he was right. Sam had about as much control of his powers as a butterfly in a monsoon. Obviously his love for Dean and being with Dean allowed him to keep much better control but otherwise he had nothing but anger and frustration to feed it.

So much for the value of being Dean's "master." Obviously it didn't mean anything to Dean, not really. Maybe it was only for show. Azazel still held Dean's soul and Bobby said that Azazel could force Dean to do anything. Dean would betray him when Azazel came. Maybe by refusing to help Sam learn that much faster was all part of the plan.

He watched through narrowed eyes as Dean dressed while refusing to meet his gaze.

"Fine," Sam snarled and got to his feet. He grabbed his clothes and walked to the bathroom. He quickly rinsed himself free of their combined spunk, dressed and headed downstairs, slamming the door behind him. Without Dean soothing the upheaval of emotions inside of him, he had enough anger to work on his abilities without his brother's help. The panic room seemed strong enough to keep his powers hidden so he could unleash them with out fear. If Dean wouldn't teach him, he would teach himself. They killed his girl. They killed and were still killing his friends, they had stolen his brother, sent the same to kill their father. Oh yes. He definitely had enough fury inside of him to work with.

Maybe Dean didn't see it, or didn't want to see it, but the sweet innocent dream boy died years ago. The kinder and gentler nature he had nurtured at college, that too was history. He couldn't fucking go see his ill dad without risking everyone's life further. His father had been right. His father had always been right. No normal life. No normal anything. Kill or be killed.

He felt the darkness flare inside of him as he walked into the panic room and shut and locked that door as well. He went into the back room where they had cleared most things out so he couldn't damage anything. He carried in a handful of books and other miscellanea. He wanted to destroy something. He wanted to scream and shout his pain. He needed Dean beside him but if Dean refused to accept the truth of what Sam had to become, then fuck him. If he turned as dark as might be necessary, if he had been able to give Dean enough of the gold, his brother might have been able to bring him back if Sam crossed a line. But that small hope was now lost too. He would free his brother, he would kill Azazel and then…he guessed it all depended upon how dark he had to become to wield his powers adequately to beat the demon. He laughed bitterly. If he went too far off the reservation one of his own hunter friends would likely feel compelled to hunt him down. Maybe even his own father. The world loved irony and that certainly fit the bill.

Dean flinched as though Sam had struck him. In all honesty, he wish that Sam had. He would have rather felt a hundred lashes across his back than feel the younger man's anger, knowing it was directed at him. Because he had... disobeyed... He had said 'no' to his master, and that alone was a horrible sin that could never be forgiven. He wished Sam would simply punish him now, take out his rage on him. He would gladly accept it. Knew he deserved it... Instead the younger man simply... left. Dean stood frozen in the middle of the room with tears burning in his eyes, twisting his shirt in his hands as his brother stormed into the bathroom and then down into the basement, into the panic room.

Dean didn't move, even though he felt like he was being torn into pieces. All he wanted was to drop to his knees in front of his brother and beg forgiveness. His instinct to obey, to give Sam, his master, whatever he wanted, to please him, warring with his even stronger instinct to protect Sam at all costs. To protect his life, protect his soul, for that he would risk Sam's wrath. For that he would sacrifice his own life, without hesitation. He loved Sam enough to even try to protect the younger man from himself. If Sam's own wishes might harm him...

He knew the door to the panic room was closed, locked, when the feeling of Sam was abruptly cut off from him and the shirt finally slipped from Dean's slightly numb fingers. It felt like a piece of himself had just been carved away. Leaving nothing but a gaping bleeding hole inside of him. Leaving him with nothing. Not even Sam's wrath. Helpless. Alone. Realizing Sam didn't want him any longer…

The tears he'd been fighting slid down his cheeks before Dean could stop them and he wiped them away angrily. As he stood there, alone, he couldn't help but wonder what Sam most needed to be protected from. From Dean, or Azazel. Right now, both were a danger to his brother. Sam was right. It was only a matter of time before Azazel came for his brother, or came for Dean. He had been fully prepared to teach Sam how to control his powers, So Sam could protect himself from Dean's former master, but never if the cost was Sam losing himself. He had sworn to his brother that he would not allow Sam to become like him. He would not let him be tainted… and it seemed no matter what Dean did the longer he was with Sam the more dark Sam became.

Dean knew he could leave now, if Sam didn't want him what was the point of him staying anyway? He could try to lure Azazel as far away from Sam as he could, as he had told Bobby before he would do… but he was afraid that even now, even as angry as Sam was with him, that Bobby might have been telling the truth. About the lengths his brother might go to try to "save" him. Or worse, there was also a chance that once Azazel found him, handed him over to the torturers again, that he would break. That he would lead his former master back to Sam, that he would perhaps even attack his brother if Azazel commanded him. No, he would not be used as a weapon against his brother. There was really only one choice left then…

Dean lifted his head and despite the tears in his eyes they were determined as he walked into Bobby's work room. Where the older man had shown him just the other day where he kept all of his magical ingredients. Dean could see that the older man had been hard at work creating more of the herbal substance that could be used as a weapon against demons. The poison that Dean knew first hand was so effective. A large beaker of the smokey liquid sat on the edge of the table. Dean ignored it for the moment, instead picking up a sharp cutting knife from the table and he slit open his wrist deeply without hesitation. He would not leave his brother completely unprotected.

He spent the next half hour drawing the most powerful protective runes around Bobby's house that he could think of, the open wound on his wrist offering him plenty of blood to work with. Though by the time he was finished Dean felt so light headed and unsteady he stumbled over his own feet as he returned to Bobby's den. The blood loss alone would have probably been enough to ensure his demise, but Dean had always liked to be thorough. Dean picked up the beaker and tossed back its entire contents without hesitation. Briefly he wondered how fast the poison would work, being ingested rather than injected…

At least pain when it finally hit him was strong enough to make him black out almost immediately before he even hit the floor.

Bobby was glad when he was finally done shopping. He hated 'shopping.' Going to the grocery store was tolerable. Going out to buy new clothes, that was a pain. Going to look at weapons or car parts or tools, well, any of those trips he always enjoyed. Getting things like extra sheets and crap, that simply annoyed him. He tried very hard to distract himself with other thoughts as he picked up the things the boys needed for their….recreation. Still, if it helped keep Sam grounded and kept the Demon Boy under control, it was, in a round-a-bout way a good thing. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what Sam could be capable of if pushed. He had been on the hunt with Sam and John when they had taken down the goblin. The goblin had killed fifteen children, and another a young boy had gone missing two days before. They had been unable to find the boy even after laying hands on the goblin. John and Bobby had both tried to get the location of the boy out of the goblin but Sam stepped up after only a brief time and asked to give it a shot. John had reluctantly agreed. Sam had been … efficient… and now Bobby understood. If Sam had "watched" Dean being tortured, some of the techniques he used now made sense. He had explained them away as things he learned in a history class, but neither John nor Bobby every fully accepted that answer. Sam could easily walk that road again if Dean wasn't with him, keeping him on the higher path. For as evil as Dean was, Dean loved Sam too much to let Sam fall.

A small sigh of relief escaped him as it always did when he saw his house in the distance. He was always happy to be home. They could get everything unloaded and they would be set for a while. He would probably run out to get fresh milk and eggs and such every few days, just to get out of the house if nothing else. He snorted to himself. They were going to be a real nuclear family. Demon Boy playing with Rumsfeld out in the yard, Sam learning to use his demonic powers, and Bobby brewing up demon poison. The brothers passing a baseball out in the yard in between training, sex, eating and sleeping. God, what a fucked up situation.

When he saw Rumsfeld barking his fool head off at the door, Bobby grabbed his salt filled shotgun from beneath the seat and barely parked the car before he was out and running for the door. He unlocked the door, and busted in, his gun ready. Rumsfeld shot by him and into the den. Bobby took in the bloody trail in house and the symbols on the walls and rushed after Rumsfeld. Dean was on the floor seizing, blood splattered around him and the empty beaker of demon poison broken into glimmering shards by his body. Rumsfeld was lickinghis face and whining worriedly. What the fuck had happened? Where was Sam? God, Sam had to be hurt. Maybe Azazel had gotten in before Dean finished the protection runes and made Dean drink the poison. Ripping a drawer clean out of the bureau nearby, magical components scattered everywhere. He picked up a bottle with blue tinged liquid and forced the liquid down Dean's throat. Almost immediately everything in Dean's stomach emptied onto the floor. The elder hunter rolled the young man onto his stomach to let him finish puking up the poison, grabbed his gun and began his frantic search for the youngest Winchester.

"Sam!" Bobby screamed, running from room to room searching for John's boy. There were no signs of struggle, nothing out of order except for the moved coffee table and blankets on the floor and Bobby didn't have to be a genius to know what happened there. He went to the basement. If the place had been attacked maybe Sam had gotten to the panic room safely.

The door to the panic room was locked from the inside, giving him some hope. He pounded on it, screaming Sam's name, opening the window to peer inside.


Sam wasn't foolish. He had seen how his powers could strike back at him. He forced himself to only let a little out as he tried to levitate a book. It hadn't gone well. As before, the book ended up in tattered shreds and he had to wrestle his powers back under control. Doggedly he tried again and again. When he finally embraced his anger, he gained some measure of control. It was still a Mack truck careening around the room but at least he was sitting at the wheel this time. He couldn't steer it worth a damned but being behind the wheel was progress. Sort of.

He was drenched in sweat as he struggled to keep reign over his powers. Once out, his powers really didn't like to be reeled back in. Finally he got them buried back inside and was contemplating lunch might be a good thing. He was starved and tired and he had left Dean all alone upstairs. He had half expected Dean to come after him and it hurt a small part of him that Dean didn't. Dean didn't come to say he was sorry, didn't come to help him. Didn't his brother realize how much Sam needed him? Yeah, so he was mad. He didn't tell Dean to stay away. Maybe he shouldn't have locked the door. Maybe Dean was sitting right outside the panic room, waiting for Sam to cool off. They were going to have to reach some sort of understanding. Hell, maybe Sam shouldn't have said anything to Dean about the way Dean had been acting like a slave. Sam would have had puppy dog Dean at his whim…and hated every minute of it.

He was pushing himself to his feet when he heard the pounding, when something seeped into his consciousness now that the dark powers no longer had his full attention. Dean. Something was desperately wrong with Dean. Like when he had gone to see his father and Bobby and Jim and had injected Dean with the poison. Sam ran for the door, unlocking and opening it before he'd even gotten within ten feet of it. God dammit, how did he do that so effortlessly when he couldn't fucking lift a book without ripping it into pieces?

He barely saw Bobby's concerned face when the door opened. Instead he felt the thin thread of Dean's life fading away upstairs, saw the image of Dean on the floor in Bobby's mind. Dean's name was ripped from his throat as he pushed Bobby aside and took the basement stairs two at a time.

He felt the power encircling them, the power of the spells Dean erected. He knew exactly where Dean was and found Rumsfeld at Dean's side whining and circling Dean's body helplessly.

"No!" Sam screamed and fell to his knees not even feeling the shards of the broken beaker cut into his knees or the burning pain of the poison left on them as he scooped Dean's jerking body into his arms. Books flew off the shelves furniture moved, loose objects flying into the air. Tears streamed down Sam's face as he clutched his dying brother to him. He let out everything inside him, every ounce of power and drove it into Dean. The bloody froth at Dean's mouth was washed away as Sam pulled out what poison little poison still remained in Dean's stomach. The poison that invaded Dean's veins gathered and rushed out of the wound in Dean's hand. Every ounce of hate and fury filled Sam, causing the entire house to shake and cracking the plaster in the room. Every ounce of love and need for his brother spilled out. He wrapped his brother in that force of fury and love, webbing them together as he had before, uniting their souls. He ate Dean's darkness while he filled its gaping hole with his love. He saw what had driven Dean to do this and he suddenly understood why Dean didn't want them to ever join like this again. Dean's soul was marked and chained. By joining with Dean part of his own soul became chained and was potentially under Azazel's control. He fought to break the chains and yank out the hooks that threaded Dean's soul but he couldn't. He knew the contract couldn't be broken except by Azazel or through magic Sam didn't yet know how to work. In his fury he followed the chains back to their owner and lashed out at the demon. He felt its startlement and though he had hurt the demon it wasn't near enough to loosen the chains. Sam's impotence infuriated him more but he returned his focus back to his brother. Healing was all he could do, all that was left to him. He clutched Dean's soul to his own and viciously expelled every drop of poison, pouring every bit of his strength into Dean. To save his brother he would give his own life if that's what it took. He would give his own soul. He would give anything. So long as Dean lived.

Dean had always known from a very early age that he would one day die painfully and violently. His entire life was pain and violence so why should his death be any different? The fact that he had lost consciousness rather quickly due to the agonizing pain of his guts feeling like they were being incinerated from the inside out had been a blessing he hadn’t expected. He didn’t have to feel how his body jerked and writhed uncontrollably as every nerve ending in his body felt like it was on fire. He didn’t have to feel as his blood practically turned to acid, burning through and exploding in his veins, literally boiling inside of him even as it bled out from the wound on his wrist.

He did however feel as his soul began to separate from his body. Hooks and claws digging into every part of him, dragging him down into hell, and Dean didn’t try to fight it. He’d always known this was his fate, and because of his betrayal to Azazel his torment in hell would be worse than any human mind could comprehend.

But at least this way he could not be used as a weapon against his brother. He would not drag his brother’s soul down into servitude to Azazel, or worse hell itself. He would not be the one to taint Sam’s soul with darkness. Defile him… Dean had no doubts that hell would eventually break him, but it could take years, centuries, before that happened, before he became a true demon. By then the only thing he cared about would already be long dead.

He was in no way prepared for the feeling of being ripped, quite literally, out of hell’s clutches. Claws and hooks ripping and tearing at his soul even as it was thrown back into his body with a jarring force. Unfortunately with it came consciousness and all the pain he had been “lucky” enough not to experience before. Now he felt it all at once, a low moan of agony escaping his bloodied throat as he convulsed in his brother’s arms.

Dean honestly wasn’t sure which pain was worse. The agony caused by the poison ripping his body apart at the seams or the feeling of Sam trying to force it back together. As Sam forced the poison out of his body. Forced horribly damaged tissue to knit back together. Forced life back into his soul. Dean felt all of his brother’s anger. All of Sam’s love. All of Sam’s power… and there was nothing that he could do to stop it. He was powerless, would have been powerless even if he wasn’t already weakened, on the verge of death. Only to be pulled back from the edge by Sam’s will alone.

He also felt what it was doing to his brother, and Sam didn’t care, wouldn’t stop… he had to stop…

“Pl… ease…” He barely managed in a stuttering wheezing whisper, his fingers clutching weakly at Sam’s arm. Dean felt it, him, Azazel. Sam had definitely caught the demon’s attention. “St… op. Az… az… el…”

Some part of Sam's mind acknowledged that he had successfully stolen Dean back from Death's grasp. The chains of slavery still entwined his soul, but he was alive. Sam could do little more than continue to heal Dean's poison ravaged body while protecting his soul from anything trying to take it. United as they were, he felt the boiling of the blood and the wicked agony of the poison. He would keep working until his brother was healed. Dean was his god dammit and no one was taking him away ever again. Even if God himself showed up, Sam wasn't entirely certain he would be willing to give Dean up. He couldn't explain the attachment, the deep and complete love he felt but it was there and it was right. Without Dean he would be lost and scared and helpless and angry and any other slew of types of emotional turmoil would hold Sam in their tight grip.

Dean's agonized plea for him to stop he ignored. Yes, he fucked up. He should have carried Dean down to the panic room, but Dean was dying and seconds mattered. If he had tried, he doubted he could have saved his sibling. As it was, he was pretty certain he had one pissed off reaper hanging around. Tough shit. It wasn't getting Dean. He would make certain of that.

The reaper was the least of his problems. Sam had used everything in him to literally rip Dean's soul back from the jaws of Hell. It might as well have been a nuclear bomb going off. Every fucking demon would be on top of them within minutes? Hours? Who knew. Soon. He needed to recuperate. So did Dean. The panic room would buy them a little time. Likely not enough for Sam to learn to use his powers but every little bit might help. He knew Azazel would try to train him and bend him to his will. He knew Dean would be forced to join them and be used against him. He couldn't very well send Dean away though. Azazel owned his brother's soul. There was no place his brother could go and be safe. There was no place he could go and be safe so that left making a stand here, for as long as they could.

When the panic room fell and Azazel had him, Sam knew he would go darkside. At least, a part of him would. He accepted that. He would have to in order to beat the demon at its own game. He didn't really grasp what he was doing or how he knew to do it but he took a part of himself, a part of his soul, and buried it deep in Dean's own, secreting it in ways he didn't understand but that he knew would work. His brother probably wouldn't even be aware of it until it was needed. If they survived, if they escaped, Dean might be able to use it to help Sam find his way back to being human because Sam wasn't sure he would be at that point. He trusted his brother would go to any lengths to get the Sam he loved back.

The last of the damaged tissue mended, Sam stroked Dean's hair. "Sleep, Dean. Rest. I'll keep us safe," Sam encouraged and forced his will on Dean. He didn't have time for heroics or worrying about the man at the moment.

He disentangled himself from his brother and looked up at Bobby who stood nearby.

"Get the books with the spells to win back a soul. I need to see the spells. Unload the car. Just dump it all on the ground. Leave. I want you gone. Azazel knows we're here and he's coming. Dean and I will stay in the panic room as long as possible, as long as it will hold up. Go to Jim's. Look after Dad. Tell him…tell him he was right. He had always been right and I was too arrogant to see it. Tell him I love him." Sam paused a moment. "And take him a king-sized Snickers from me."

Bobby, having followed Sam back to Dean had watched the brothers, seen the tears and terror in Sam's eyes and stood by helplessly. His heart clenched at Dean's gasped words. Azazel…. "I'm not leaving you boys!" Bobby said firmly.

Sam stood up, scooping his brother into his arms as he did so. "It's bad enough that Azazel will have Dean to use against me. I don't want to give him you too. Besides, two of us will last longer than three. Do what I say Bobby. I'll have my cell phone. I'll call if I can. Don't believe it if I tell you we won." He leveled his gaze on his friend. "We won't. If I survive, if we survive, we'll come to Jim's. Make sure it's me. Don't trust me. Holy water, silver, everything. Make sure it's me."

"Son," Bobby began, his expression pained.

"We don't have time for niceties," Sam snapped. "I know you care. You know I care. I know you want to try to help but all you'll be to me is a liability I can't afford. So get moving."

Turning from the old hunter, Sam carried his sleeping brother downstairs, laying him gently on the air mattress, pulling a blanket up over him. Shutting the door behind him he went into Bobby's den where Bobby handed him the books Jim had given him. Sam sat down and quickly memorized the spells Bobby marked while Bobby went out to get the supplies out of the car. Sam didn't understand the spells, he didn't know what they meant, but he memorized them anyhow. He would understand them eventually. He pushed those spells as deeply into his mind as he could, hoping Azazel couldn't find them and eradicate or even use them. By the time he was done, Bobby already had what few things he needed gathered.

Bobby glanced around at all the books. All the unique and most important ones he had long since scanned in and had backups in a few different places. Scanning in Jim's books had been one of the first things he had done once he realized just what he held. Bobby pulled a few dusty volumes from the bookshelves and stacks and headed out to his car, whistling for Rumsfeld. Setting the books down gently in the back seat, he shut the door, then motioned Rumselfd to get in the front seat. He rarely took Rumsfeld for a car ride and the dog was so excited Bobby wasn't sure if Rumsfeld was wagging his tale or if his tail was wagging him.

Sam started to hand the Jim's books to Bobby but the man shook his head. "Already got them copied. Take the black box on the third shelf of the north book case, the bottom drawer next to the fridge, the red toolbox in the hall closet, and the box of supplies in my bedroom closet. That and what I have here will have the spell components you need for at least a few of the spells. If the panic room falls, destroy those books, son. Especially this one." Bobby tapped the thinnest book."

"Understood," Sam said and handed Bobby a slip of paper with some information on it. "My storage locker in Montana. It has some stuff in it that might be useful, some personal mementos and some money. I've also listed my bank account that no one knows about and the password. If…if something happens to your house…it should help at least." When he saw the protest in Bobby's eyes, Sam shook his head. "Just in case, okay?"

After giving his old friend a tight hug and a strained smile, he shook Bobby's had a final time. "King Sized Snickers. Don’t forget."

With a sharp nod, Bobby climbed into his car and drove away.

Sam watched Bobby's car until it was out of sight. He looked at all the supplies on the ground. He simply couldn't think about how to use his powers. If he did that, his control went to hell. It was like Yoda said. Do or do not, there is no try. Time was important. He latched on to that and didn't bother to try to focus. He just simply lifted the supplies with his mind and took them inside and down to the panic room. He returned back upstairs to gather his laptop, a few odds and ends, and dumped everything out of the refrigerator he could into bags and hauled them downstairs. He went back upstairs securing the house and in places where the plaster had broken, where sigils had been damaged, he used his own blood to repair them and set down fresh salt lines. He looked out a window. The day outside was clear and beautiful. It would have been a good day to pass a baseball back and forth, or sit on the porch drinking Bobby's sweet tea and relaxing. Shaking his head he quickly gathered the spell components Bobby told him to grab and took every other spell component he could readily find. Bobby had created a handful of darts of poison so he took that and the tranq guns. It took him several trips but he got everything down to the panic room.

He took the time to rig the basement door closed, laying fresh salt and setting several glass bottles along the step. They would hopefully hear the glass break if the door was carelessly opened. Reaching the panic room, he closed the door and bolted its many locks. He shoved all the food into the fridge that would fit. That completed, he looked around. Everything had been done that needed to be done. He and his brother were as safe as possible and hopefully Bobby was out of danger. They had all the supplies they needed for a few months if the room held up that long. Bobby built things right, but Azazel was strong. It might not last more than one blow.

That was Sam's last thought before he saw the ground rushing up to greet him and he collapsed into unconsciousness.