Dean awoke to the soft rays of dawn stretching its fingers across his face in the gentlest caress from the open window. A small relaxed smile curved his lips as he watched the lightening of the sky. A new day, one he honestly hadn't thought he would see. Yesterday should have probably been his last, and yet it wasn't. He was alive. They were alive.

All of them.

The five men that had made their way back to Jim's house were all bruised, bloodied, and beaten in some way or another and yet they were all alive. They were alive and Azazel was dead. Dean could still barely believe it. A part of him kept thinking that he was going to wake up and find it had all been a dream. A dream as horrible as it was joyous, but still only a dream.

But it wasn't. When Dean turned his head away from the window to the figure wrapped in a blanket and curled up against his side, he knew it wasn't a dream. Sam was still there. Exactly where he had been all night after he had led Sam into the house, both of them so weary they could barely stand. Jim and Bobby reassuring him they would take care of Dad, and Dean had taken Sam to the bedroom that had been "his" since he had first woken up in this house.

Dean had no idea what time it was and he hadn't cared. He had gotten Sam into bed and followed. Wrapping his body as well as his powers around the younger man protectively. As soon as Sam's breath had evened out in sleep, Dean had followed the younger man.

Real. Alive. Safe. It still made his blood boil with rage to think of everything Sam had gone through at the demon's hands. But now Sam was with him now, safe, and he would never let his brother ever come to such harm again.

Dean smiled at the younger man, brushing a soft kiss across his brother's forehead.

It was strange to wake up in a soft bed. Strange to feel the brush of a kiss on his forehead. He was accustomed to waking up to discipline or to Father satisfying his needs. Instead he awoke to find a green-eyed man smiling at him, love in his eyes. Sam smiled back. The feel of the man’s powers wrapping around him protectively, that was new too.

They were in the Human world. Soon he would be leading the demon army to strike down all who defied his father. Father had told him that once he reached the Human world he would have no distractions, no memories, except those which he needed to lead the army and to answer to Azazel. He felt the chains on his soul that led to the naked man in bed with him. It was not Azazel in a new meatsuit. This man felt very different from his father. Perhaps this man was meant to lead the first few incursions and Sam was meant to watch and learn from his new master. He didn’t understand why his soul was chained to this man, but he served. It was not his place to question. Maybe his soul was so chained to protect him from the resistance they would surely meet.

He reached out with his powers, frowning when he did not feel the army of demons standing at ready. In fact, he felt no demons nearby. The man with him was mostly dark, demon blood of his father strong in him, but not a demon. There was one other very weak bit of demon blood nearby, but otherwise he felt no pulse of darkness. With the runes inscribed on the walls of the room, he could feel very little outside of this place. While he could wipe them away with hardly an effort, they must be there for his protection, to keep him hidden from the enemy until the time was right.

If he was meant to lead right now, he would be receiving discipline, hardening him, making him strong and ready. Instead he was in bed with this new master his father had given him too. He was obviously meant to pleasure his new master or his master would not be naked and in bed with him. He had pleasured no one but Azazel, it had always been forbidden, but this man owned him now. His father usually simply took him when he wanted him. This man seemed different, seemed to wait for Sam to act. Perhaps a test to see what his new slave would do?

With a light touch, he dragged his fingers down the man’s chest, glancing up at his master to ensure it was okay to be initiating contact. With no resistance, he leaned forward and fastened his mouth onto the man’s nipple, running his tongue around its quickly peaking nub.

Dean’s eyes watched the younger man intently when Sam stirred awake.

He saw the slight confusion in his brother’s eyes when they fluttered open, but he supposed that was to be expected. After what Sam had gone through, he certainly couldn’t blame the younger man if he didn’t know where he was. Sam had been barely coherent yesterday when Dean had guided the younger man into the house.

Sam’s soft smile and relaxed body language comforted him though. Even though Sam was confused he obviously wasn’t afraid, and that was good.

Dean ran his hand gently over Sam’s side when he felt the stirring of his brother’s powers. Reassuring the younger man that he was safe. Nothing would come for him. Nothing would harm him.

He wasn’t all that concerned that neither of them broke the peaceful silence of the morning. After all, they’d spent most of their lives communicating without words. Dean smiled and his breath hitched a little when Sam reached out to touch his chest. Emotion welling up in his throat, practically choking him.

He’d come so close to losing Sam… so close to never feeling the younger man’s touch ever again…

When Sam leaned in to kiss his chest, licking and playing with his nipple, Dean’s heart sped up. A soft groan of pleasure escaping his throat as his fingers found their way into his brother’s soft hair. Petting gently. His nipple wasn’t the only thing hardening due to Sam’s attentions and Dean couldn’t think of anything he wanted more right now than to touch and hold his brother, to love him, to make him his again.

“Sammy…” He whispered the younger man’s name, almost in awe, before tugging his brother up and kissing him gently.

Sam was more than pleased when he elicited a groan from his ministrations. His new master was so gentle as he ran his fingers through his hair. He anticipated any moment that those fingers would wrap in his hair and pull his head back so his master could kiss him, but that never happened. The man's touch seemed so familiar, but how could that be? Only Azazel ever touched him in this way. He was ready to move to the other nipple when his master said his name in such a loving way it almost made his breath hitch. He knew it was wrong, but already he liked this man as his master much more than his father. His father had never been gentle that he could remember, but then, he didn't remember much of anything, so perhaps he was mistaken.

The older man pulled him up and into a kiss. He didn't ravage his mouth. It too was a gentle loving kiss. It was so…undemon like. Perhaps this was a reward, allowing him to relax a little before the war began? He welcomed the tongue into his mouth, letting his fingers play across the wet nipple he had been working on with his mouth. He wondered if his master preferred to fuck him doggie style or with him on his back. He wormed his way a little further under the man. He liked seeing the caring love in the man's eyes and hoped that perhaps he would prefer Sam on his back. He would like to see his master's face as his master came deep inside him. He wished he knew his master's name. Would his master like for him to say it, to scream it, as he fucked Sam? Or did he prefer 'Master' instead? He had so many questions but didn't want to ruin this or anger him.

He spread his legs so the man had free access if he wanted it. He could feel the beginning of the man's erection forming so he arched a little, rubbing against it, hoping that the action wasn't too bold.

Dean slowly made love to his brother’s mouth. Letting their tongues tangle together at one moment, exploring every inch of the other man’s mouth, only to draw back a moment later, barely brushing his lips across Sam’s in the softest caress.

He knew his desire for the younger man would burn hot and fast if he let it, but that wasn’t what Dean wanted. He didn’t want this to be a desperate rutting against each other. He didn’t want it to be anything like it had been in his cell, desperate, fast, and almost harsh, even though it was what they’d both needed at the time. He wanted to take his time. Memorize all over again every inch of his brother’s flesh. He wanted to kiss and lick all of Sam and make his brother moan and whimper beneath him. He wanted to fill the younger man up slowly, make love to him over and over, and never leave him in between.

He wanted it to be perfect. He was going to make it perfect for Sam.

Dean moaned into his brother’s mouth, pulling back to lick and nibble a little on Sam’s lips when the younger man’s fingers began playing with his already sensitive nipple. Dean returned the favor. Letting his hand slide slowly down the back of his brother’s back from his shoulders to his buttocks. Kneading the firm muscle gently as his head dipped to lap at and circle around one nipple with his tongue while his fingers lightly pinched and played with the other.

He moaned in pleasure when he felt Sam move against him and when he felt Sam shift a little onto his back and Dean moved with him without thought, giving Sam what he wanted. He let his body come to rest mostly on top of Sam as he settled himself between his brother’s legs. Letting his stomach rub teasingly against the younger man’s dick while he continued to work on his brother’s nipples. Shifting his mouth from one to the other and only once he was satisfied both had received equal amount of attention did he begin to kiss his way back up Sam’s body.

He licked a hot wet path up his brother’s throat and jaw, his mouth finally finding the younger man’s again with a moan as he rubbed his quickly hardening cock against Sam’s. Squeezing his brother’s ass again gently and rolling his hips.

His father liked to hear him moan with the pleasure/pain he often caused him. Bringing him to the edge and leaving him unsatisfied. This man wasn't just having sex, he was making love to Sam. Sam moaned softly as his master worked on his nipples and seemed to like Sam rubbing against him. The man wasted no time sliding between his legs and that made Sam smile. Maybe his new master would let Sam see his face as he came. His master was handsome and muscular and…well, he was human. Demon blood, but human, like himself. And for some reason, that seemed to make it even better.

The man's tongue was wonderful, licking at him and swirling over his flesh, tickling and tasting him like he was the best treat ever. He imagined that tongue on his cock and groaned. It would never happen of course. A typical master would never give a slave a blow job, well, unless it was to bring them up to the edge to leave them there. Sam decided that would be okay, just to have that skillful mouth on his dick for a little while.

When the man rubbed their cocks together, rolling his hips, Sam arched and moaned into his mouth. He ran his hands over his master's scarred flesh. He let his powers out just a little, running them over the man's back, hunting for any old scars that might be long healed but might have caused damage that the man had probably long since learned to ignore. He found a few places and knowing he was almost certainly being too bold, he wanted to give something special back to the man for the way he was making Sam feel. He let his powers ripple down his master's back, finding those old injuries and mending them, taking away the scars, smiling into the man's mouth as he felt smooth skin replace those couple scars. Even if he was disciplined for daring to do such a thing, the knowledge that his master would feel a little less pain and move a little more freely was something that he could hold to him. He imagined his master disciplining him, while at the same time bringing him to the edge. It would be exquisite.

He wanted to beg his master to fuck him, but it was not his place to ask. The fingers that kneaded his ass he wished would delve deep, would feel inside of him. What a precious gift this was!

The man finally gave him a moment to breathe and as Sam buried his face in the man's neck, he whispered, "I love you, Master."

Dean swallowed his brother’s moans eagerly, determined to pull more of the sweet perfect sounds from the younger man no matter what. He rubbed his cock a little more firmly against his brother’s stomach, Sam’s dick a hot brand of steel against his flesh, leaving hot wet trails along his flesh. So damned good, he wanted to wrap his lips around that firm column of flesh, suck Sam down and take all of his brother into his throat. He wanted to savor the taste of the younger man fucking his mouth and drink every drop of come that would spill from Sam down his throat.

His sinful imaginings were interrupted when he felt his brother’s fingers sliding over his back. Dean’s breath hitched a little when he felt the younger man’s power stir within him, felt it weaving around him like his own was wrapped around Sam. But then the younger man’s powers pushed deeper, into the flesh of his back.

Dean groaned softly when he felt it reach some of the old deeper wounds in his back. The wounds healed long ago, but some scars simply couldn’t be healed perfectly. If he moved a certain way, he would sometimes feel them, an old wound pulling in a way it shouldn’t, the muscles not working quite right anymore. He’d long ago learned to ignore such minor aches, so trivial he didn’t even remember them anymore. Now to feel the scarred flesh and muscle knitting itself back together as though it had never been injured…

Dean pulled back, panting a little for breath and looking down at Sam in no small amount of awe. Only to have his brother hide his face against his throat. He pet the younger man tenderly, running his hands up and down the length of Sam’s back, feeling all the new scars there and tears forming in his eyes as he realized he couldn’t remove them as Sam had so easily removed his. He could not make his brother’s body whole and untouched anymore.

Dean froze however when he heard his brother’s whisper against his throat. What? No… he hadn’t heard incorrectly. Sam had called him… Sam had called him that back when he had found him in that cell. After Sam had given him his soul. It was wrong then, and it was wrong now. He didn’t want Sam to call him that. Sam was his master, he was not Sam’s…

“I’m not… Sam? Don’t you…?” Dean’s voice trailed off as a cold fear suddenly pooled in his stomach, the confusion in his brother’s eyes taking on a new sickening meaning. “Don’t you remember?”

He felt his Master freeze when he told him he loved him and his breath caught. His Master didn't want him speaking while they were having sex. He would be quiet then. He wouldn't say anything more. He didn't want the man to stop but he did. His foolishness had ruined it after all.

The confusion he heard in his master's voice made no sense to him.

Did he remember?

Sam slowly pulled back and looked into the man's eyes. They were sad, confused, and maybe even scared? He wanted the tender love back in them. He didn't want to say anything else, wishing that those wonderful hands were still roving over him, that the tongue was still tasting him. But his master asked him a question. He had to answer the question. Some of the runes burned deep under his skin, demanding obedience to his master.

"I don't remember much," Sam said slowly. "Father was training me, putting runes of protection on my body, had me heal the wounds after he put in spell components to strengthen the runes. Father told me later that I wouldn't remember much when I came to the Human world. I…remember I was angry and it hurt me that I wouldn't, but I don't know why. He told me I should have no distractions while leading his army. I would remember what he taught me and I would remember my service to him, but little else. I…don't remember giving him my soul. I don't remember him giving me to you, Master. Forgive me. I…don't feel the army. Where is the army I am supposed to lead against the Humans? Did I fail Father? Does he not want me to lead him army? Am I supposed to help you lead the army? Please, Master, tell me, how am I supposed to serve you and Father?"

If tears were permitted, he would weep for his failures. He wished there were chains visible so he could go to them and let his new master punish him for his mistakes and his failures. But his master was still on top of him and he didn't dare move.

Sam didn’t remember…

The younger man didn’t remember that they had killed Azazel. His brother didn’t remember who he was. Sam didn’t even remember himself!

How? Why? He didn’t understand. It didn’t make any sense. Sam had remembered him when Dean had first entered the dimension. His brother had reached out to him. Had healed him. Even when he had gone to Sam and his brother had attacked him, something in Sam had known who he was. Sam had known himself. He had seen it in his brother’s eyes. They had been confused, but nothing like this. Not like a blank slate.

Why would… Why would Azazel let Sam remember there but not here? It didn’t make any sense! Why would Azazel want a mindless puppet? Why would the demon put Sam through everything he had, just to erase him like a blank slate?

Sam didn’t know who he was… kept calling him master… had spread his legs open for him and he didn’t even know who he was!

Equal amounts of disgust and anger flashed through him as he pushed himself away from Sam as though his brother had burned him. Standing up and backing away from the younger man though his eyes never left Sam.

“Don’t call me that!” Dean snapped before he could help himself, the anger and pain he was feeling making his power react without meaning to. It wasn’t often he lost control like this, but he was losing it now. The dark power practically sparking in the air and he quickly withdrew it from Sam as well, not wanting to harm the younger man. Guilt twisted like a knife in his stomach even as he did, though he didn’t know which was worse. That he couldn’t control his anger now, was probably frightening or confusing Sam even more, or the fact that he hadn’t noticed something was wrong with his brother before… and he’d almost…

Sam repeatedly calling the demon father was practically the straw that broke the camel’s back. Now he knew why Sam had lost control before, why his brother had become so angry, when he had called the demon father…

“He is not our father! He is gone! He is dead! You are not his!” Dean yelled.

He had done something terrible. He didn't understand what he had done but the man who had been making love to him was now angry and disgusted with him. He felt the tears want to come, but he had been trained not cry. He was already going to be punished for telling his master he loved him. What were a few tears? When the man pushed away from him, but stared angrily at him still, Sam trembled just a little. What had he done? Servants were supposed to love their masters.

Master? He wasn't supposed to call him master? He felt the dark powers fill the room. Was this another test? Was he supposed to defend himself and prove he was worthy to lead the army? The comforting protection the man had wrapped him in was practically ripped away from him and he couldn't stop the one tear that ran down his face. He would welcome the punishment because he had obviously earned it.

At his master's outburst, Sam quickly pushed himself off the bed and fell to his knees in front of him. He just didn't understand. He could clearly sense his father's blood in his new master. Of course Azazel was their father.

Father was gone? No, his master must be mistaken. He tried to call to his father as he had been taught, but the runes on the walls blocked him. He could not sense his father and all the chains led to the man before him.

"I am yours," Sam said softly, bowing his head, but a distant voice echoed in his head and he frowned. I am yours. You are mine. Always. He flinched as he felt one of the runes on his chest flare. The voice in his head was gone. He tried to remember what it had said, what it had meant, but the rune had erased that distraction. "I have been well taught how to fight, how to lead, how to kill demon, human, and maybe even angels alike, but fath—Azazel," he corrected himself, "was not certain I was quite that strong. I will try if you wish me to. I will serve you until you no longer find me useful. I will lead your army skillfully and destroy any who defy you. But if I am not to call you master…then what do you wish me to call you? Or should I be silent when in your presence?"

Dean stared aghast at the younger man when Sam dropped to his knees in front of him. Calling himself his…

No…

“No!” Dean snarled almost viciously in answer. Sam was not his damn it! Dean was not the master! Sam was his…

But Sam was gone. His master, his brother, his lover, was gone. Azazel had destroyed him. The demon had taken away everything the younger man was, leaving only his body. Leaving only a… puppet… in Sam’s place. A puppet that thought Dean was his master…

Because of the chains he had on Sam’s soul… that Sam had given him…

Dean viciously cut the chains that bound them together. It felt like cutting himself in half, but he didn’t care. Dean turned away from the younger man and stumbled out of the room, blinded by tears of pain and rage he could no longer contain. He didn’t know where he was going and he didn’t care, as long as it was away from the… shell… of his brother. He could not look at Sam. He could not look into those eyes that did not know him anymore.

His misery and rage had nowhere to go, no outlet, Azazel was already dead. The only place it could turn was inward. He didn’t care. He didn’t care if it tore him apart at the seams, because he had failed Sam… again.

Sam waited for the retribution for whatever it was that he had done that had so offended his master. He was not prepared for the sudden release of his soul and he gasped and looked up. He had done something so horrible the man didn't want to be his master? Just because he had said he loved him? Or had he done something more?

He watched as his master left the room, tears streaming down his cheeks. His master was…crying? Tears were forbidden. They indicated weakness. The dark power rose inside his master but his master wasn't letting it go. It would destroy him!

"No!" Sam screamed and dashed after him. He caught his master in his arms. The man had loved him, even if only briefly before Sam had made such a grievous error. Wrapping his powers around the man he took the dark rage into himself, siphoning off its destructive energy. He cradled the man to his chest and pet his hair reassuringly.

"Shh, it's okay. It's okay," Sam heard himself saying. His master was weak. Weakness should be destroyed, but he just couldn't do that. He mended the chains between them, rebinding his soul to the man. He nudged his way into the man's mind just enough to find what he needed. His master's name.

"It's okay, Dean."

He was not being what he had been taught to be, a killer, a destroyer, a servant, but all he could remember was the love he had seen in those green eyes. "I'll protect you. I won't let anything hurt you," Sam told him. He kissed Dean's head and held him close.

Pulling away just a little, he placed a finger under Dean's chin and made his master meet his eyes. "Please don't leave me. Please don't cast me aside and abandon me. I need you. The protective runes Azazel marked me with, they make me forget things, they burn them away but I know…I just know that you can guide me. You can help me do what ever it is that I am supposed to do. Please don't leave me."

Dean stumbled in the hallway, and that was when he felt Sam’s arms come around him. When he felt the younger man wrapping his own powers around him and forcing him to release the dangerous energy instead of letting it rip him apart as he deserved. Sam held him… Touched him… Soothed him…

Sam whispering his name, trying to comfort him, pulled another angry ragged sob from his throat… because it was all a lie. He had felt Sam in his mind. The same time he had felt Sam bind them together again against his will, but Dean simply didn’t have the will to fight anymore.

He had nothing left to fight for anymore. He had nothing… everything had been taken away from him…

At least when he had served Azazel he’d had a purpose. He had defied his demon master to serve Sam, because he loved Sam. He had tried to protect Sam, he had tried to save Sam, he had tried… and he had failed again and again. He had thought… he had finally fulfilled his purpose. He had thought he had saved his brother. He had killed Azazel, he had freed Sam, he had brought his brother home safe…

He had thought…

Sam’s words meant to comfort were like a slow rusty blade carving him up from the inside out. He did not want to be protected. He wanted to hurt. He had failed… he had nothing… he deserved nothing. He should have let Sam simply kill him back in that cell… at least he would have died at his master’s hand. Sam… who remembered him…

Dean’s eyes met Sam’s when the younger man forced his chin up cold and impassive. His eyes narrowing slightly when Sam said Azazel’s name. The only name his brother remembered. The only thing his Sam remembered. Help him… when had Dean ever helped Sam? He had only ever failed Sam. Dad could help Sam. Bobby and Jim could help Sam. Dean had done enough damage…

Dean pulled away from the younger man’s touch again.

“Don’t touch me.” Dean whispered, barely more than a breath as he stood slowly. He looked away from Sam. “John Winchester is your father. Obey him.”

Dean told the younger man, glad that it wasn’t even a lie, and he walked away from Sam back into the bedroom. Picking up his clothes from the floor that were still stained with his own and Sam’s blood but he didn’t really care as he pulled them on.

The cold eyes he stared into as he begged his master to take him back cut him deeper than he could imagine. His master didn't even want him to touch him. He felt his heart shatter and he didn't understand why and he couldn't stop the sudden sobs. He cast his thoughts back to when he had first woken, to the love they had been making. It wasn't that he had told his master he had loved him! It was because his master had accused him of not remembering! But his father had said he should not have distractions...but his master said his father was gone.

"Mas—Dean!" Sam said, rising to his feet and hurrying back into the room where his master dressed. He slid down to his knees before his master but rather than bowing his head, he looked up at him pleadingly. "You are angry with me because I can not remember? It is only in the Human world! Azazel said I would remember everything when ever I returned to him, when ever I left the Human world and reported back to him on the progress of the army. If you take me to your home, I will remember. I am sure I will and then you will not need to cast me aside. I will not be less than what you want me to be. Please, Dean! I do not understand but my soul says I belong to you always. Bound to you or not, my heart is yours. Always." The words came unbidden to his lips. "I am yours, you are mine, always."

His master told him not to touch him, but he could not restrain himself, even though he knew the punishment would be severe. He reached out and took Dean's hand, kissing it and then holding it next to his tear streaked cheek. "Please Dean. Please let me redeem myself to you. Please, take me to your home and it will be as it was."

With barely a thought he let the runes show, their dark writhing energy criss-crossing his flesh. "These protect me from distractions so I may fight and lead in the Human world, but in your home, they will be weak and I believe I can fight their power that keeps the evil distractions at bay. Please do not leave me without a master. I want none but you. I will renounce Azazel if you will take me and let me fight for you." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "If you will love me again."

Dean tried to ignore the man on his knees before him while he dressed. Sam… on his knees… pleading… and breaking him a little more with every word he spoke.

Yes, he was angry. No, he was not angry at Sam. How could he be? Sam was gone. No, he was angry at the demon who had taken his brother away from him and there was nowhere for that anger to go. Azazel was dead. Gone forever. The fact that Dean had killed the demon, had pulled the trigger only yesterday, did nothing to douse the burning hatred inside of him. He wished the demon were alive if only so he could kill him again. Much slower and far more painfully than the first time. Maybe then there would be somewhere for the anger to go, instead of curling into a black seething ball inside of him.

He was also angry at himself, perhaps even more angry than he was at the demon who had taken Sam away. Because if not for him, none of this would have happened to Sam. If only he had pleased Azazel more, been what the demon wanted, he never would have gone after Sam. His failures had destroyed Sam. He had failed to protect him, failed to save him, as he had promised…

Take him home? Where! Dean did not have a home! Back to the dimension where he had found Sam? He couldn’t! It was gone! Just like Sam was gone…

Dean nearly growled at the words the young man spoke. Did Sam steal those from his mind as well?

Then suddenly he could see them. The dark writing magic that Azazel had inscribed into the younger man’s very flesh! He finally had an outlet for seething black hatred inside of him. Dean pulled his hand away from Sam’s face. Hardening himself to the younger man’s tears and pleas. He still had the hex bag in his pocket that was meant to bind Sam’s powers. Dean didn’t hesitate using it now. He wasn’t going to even give Sam the chance to stop him.

Between one second and the next Dean had the hex bag around the younger man’s neck, was dragging Sam up by the throat, and throwing him down onto the bed. Dean’s own powers twined around the younger man and pinned him in place. A second later, Dean had a knife in his hand and he was straddling his brother’s hips.

Now that he knew where they were, Dean didn’t hesitate digging the blade deep into his brother’s flesh. His powers digging just as deep into the wound, pulling out what didn’t belong. He didn’t care how much Sam screamed. He didn’t care about Sam’s blood coating his hands and soaking into his clothes. He didn’t care about the men who were at the door, yelling at him to stop, demanding to know what the hell he was doing. He felt their hands on him, trying to pull him off of Sam, trying to take away the knife he was using. Dean tossed them aside easily and with little thought, using his powers to keep them back.

Even when he felt the first gun shot in his shoulder he didn’t stop, he merely ignored the pain. The second shot was not so easy to ignore. The third the knife finally slipped from Dean’s hand, tasting his own blood in his mouth along with Sam’s as he fell off the young man.

His master yanked his hand free of his and Sam felt all hope wither inside him. He bowed his head. It was no use. He would be masterless. He would serve this "John Winchester" his master had ordered him to obey. He was startled when his master dropped a hex bag around his neck. He felt the immediate binding of his powers and gasped. His master would even take that away from him?

The man had him by the the throat and threw him onto the bed. He could feel his master's powers wrap around him, but they were not the gentle protective caresses from before, they were chains, pinning him and he had no powers to fight back, not that he would. He had dared to touch his master after being ordered not to, he had bound his soul back to the man when the man clearly didn't want him. He had shed tears. He had begged. It was his due punishment. He would not have fought.

Dean was on top of him, a knife in his hand. The blade bit deeply, carving along one of the many runes. He felt Dean's powers reaching in, finding every bit of components he had been forced to heal in place. The first few runes his master cut at he managed to strangle his screams. But as his master disciplined him, it finally became too much and he screamed with each new cut, with the way the black power raped the wound, sweeping away anything inside. His master was taking away the protective runes as well. He was going to punish him and leave him defenseless. But that was his master's right. He felt the seething hatred Dean had for him and wondered if he would even be left alive to serve John Winchester.

The shouts of familiar voices at the door barely penetrated Sam's consciousness as Dean tore into his flesh viciously. His master was attacked and he reacted, only to find himself impotent, unable to use his powers to protect the man. He deserved this discipline. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind. Why were the others trying to stop him? His master shrugged the men off easily as he buried the knife again in Sam's flesh.

Even through his own agony, he felt the echoed pain as the first bullet penetrated his master, and then the second. Dean stopped cleansing him of the runes with the third and final shot.

Sam lay panting, a little light headed, trying to sort through the mangled memories in his brain. The runes still tried to erase them but near a third had been broken and destroyed. He focused his eyes on his friends, and on his father—his dad—who still wielded the black 9 mm, tears streaming down his face. Dean lay beside him, weakly coughing up blood, barely conscious.

With his powers he reached out to heal Dean, only to find his powers still bound. Realizing a hex bag hung around his neck, Sam demanded, "Get this damned thing off me!"

"Sammy," John said, choking on his words. "I didn't have a choice."

"Get this off me!" Sam screamed, tugging ineffectively at the cord of the bag.

Bobby stepped forward, whispered a few simple words, and lifted the bag from Sam's neck. Sam immediately reached out with his powers, healing his brother's injuries, extracting the bullets that hadn't passed through Dean's body. He struggled and finally succeeded in pulling Dean into his lap, even as his own blood poured in streams down his chest. As soon as he heard Dean's labored breathing ease, he healed himself.

"Sam," John said, leveling the gun on Dean, "he was killing you!"

Sam shook his head emphatically. He fought to put his thoughts into understandable sentences. "No. You can't see them. Runes, spell components cut into me. Dean was trying to remove them. Anesthesia," Sam said with a weak smile. "Teach him about anesthesia."

He looked up at the three. "My memory, spotty. The runes take everything away." He shook his head a little. "You're…Dad," Sam said to his father. He cast his gaze on the other two and struggled for a minute and huffed, finally shrugging helplessly. "I know you're friends but, no names. Don't know names. Father, Azazel made the runes. I lead his army. No memory. Kill whatever got in my way. Return to him, remember everything. Until I go out again."

Feeling some of the runes on his back flare, confusion filled his eyes again. "My master needs tending. He needs water. Please bring him some water," he asked of the three. Looking down at the man he cradled in his arms he smiled when his master opened his eyes. Only the servant looked at his master for a moment, then part of Sam made it through and he ran his fingers through Dean's blood soaked hair. "I'm better. Still broken. My head, I'm still," he furrowed his brow as more memories burbled up through the ragged netting that tried to seal them away, "confused. You're Dean. My brother. Memories come. Stolen away. Try to come back. But it's working."

He leaned down and kissed his brother. When he broke the tender kiss he gave Dean a mild glare. "I've been your master. Suck it up. Be mine until I'm better. Need that. Need you."

Dean’s anger finally bled away with his own blood, leaving him feeling cold and empty in a way that had very little to do with the bullet wounds in his chest, his life draining out of them. Well, to be fair, the first had only passed through his shoulder and the second through his side. It was the third that had passed through his right lung when the other two less fatal shots had failed to stop him.

As the anger drained away he was able to think more clearly again, at the same time the pain and blood loss made it difficult to think. It was a strange combination. He hadn’t… lost control… like that in a long time. Azazel had taught him how to use his anger to make him stronger, but the demon had also taught him how to never lose control of it. Dean knew well how destructive it could be. But he had forgotten… no… he hadn’t cared. It was easy not to care when you had nothing…

Sam… He hadn’t wanted to harm Sam… but he knew he had… He knew not all the blood covering him was his. A lot of it was Sam’s. He’d cut the younger man, made him scream… Dean had made his brother scream like Azazel had made Sam scream. How could he? How could he have hurt Sam like that? He felt sick… he wanted to vomit… he might have if he’d had the strength to.

Instead Dean coughed, choking more on his blood or his guilt he wasn’t sure. He knew there were tears in his eyes. He didn’t try to stop them. He heard Sam’s voice, Sam shouting… at least his brother wasn’t screaming. He thought he heard Dad’s voice as well. Dad had shot him… he wasn’t angry at the older man. He was glad that Dad had stopped him from hurting Sam.

He felt Sam’s powers wrapping around him… someone must have taken off the hex bag… Dean groaned softly as he felt his brother’s energy pushing deep into him. Much like he had done to Sam but far gentler. It still hurt though as Sam pulled the bullets out. Dean didn’t care about the pain though. He groaned again when he felt himself being moved, even as the pain began to fade to a dull ache as the wounds were healed.

Why was Sam healing him? After what he’d done…

Dean finally forced his eyes open. He didn’t even remember when he’d closed them. He managed to focus on Sam’s face, his brother’s eyes… his brother. Sam. Dean felt his throat beginning to close up with emotion on him again, he felt the tears in his eyes again, but he didn’t care. A broken sob finally worked its way out of his throat when Sam kissed him softly.

Dean managed to turn, to wrap his arms around the younger man tightly. Certainly not giving a fuck that they were both filthy, covered in blood, or that Sam’s friends and father were watching. Dean kissed the younger man hard. Petting his fingers through Sam’s hair, whispering against his brother’s lips between kisses. “I’m sorry… love you… Sammy… my Sammy…”

The tight hug wasn't unexpected and the intense kiss was welcome. He gave a small sigh at feeling Dean's fingers comb through his hair as he held Dean just as tightly. Smiling at Dean's words, he didn't try to stop him from the incessant, loving kisses.

John cleared his throat, reminding his sons that he was there. It seemed his last weeks had been one upheaval after another. The angel had been right that his sons were…lovers. Heaven approved, more or less apparently, but he knew it was going to take time for him to wrap his brain around it and get anywhere close to being comfortable with it, if he ever actually would get comfortable with it.

"Sam, Dean," John said, "C'mon. You two need to get washed up. You've both lost blood and been through a lot. You need to eat, and we need to get these sheets changed out and the blood cleaned up."

Sam glanced up at his father while in mid-kiss and tapped Dean's back with his hand and pulled away a little. He couldn't stop the small blush that colored his cheeks.

"Dad's right. I'm not going anywhere. Maybe my memories will, but you'll fix that."

Sam realized abruptly that he was naked. The past weeks he had always been naked but he was home now. His Dad and…Bobby and…Jim were there. He grabbed the blood soaked bedspread, blushing more profusely now, and began pulling the cloth toward him, even though Dean's body was covering his groin.

Almost as soon as he remembered his friends' names, the runes fought to erase them and the names slipped away. He blinked and looked into Dean's eyes, his brow furrowing. He held his master. They had been kissing. It was all mixed up in his head but the older man said they should clean up. The older man was John Winchester, his jumbled memories identified. He was to obey John Winchester. But he also knew Dean had forgiven him and was repairing his memories. Because of that, his master was willing to take him back. He wondered if that meant he was still supposed to obey John Winchester. Since he didn't want to risk upsetting his master again, he decided until Dean told him otherwise, he would.

He helped his master to his feet. No one had gotten his master the water he asked for. His powers shifted restlessly, wanted to strike them for not bringing the water, but he didn't. If he was to obey John Winchester, then John Winchester was of higher rank and worthy of a servant. It had not been his place to ask for water but it still rankled him.

"Where can I do as you ask? Wash up?" Sam asked.

John saw that Sam was lost again. Dean could remove this spellwork, but there had to be a better way than carving his younger brother up to do it. And since John couldn't see the runes, he had no idea how many more had to be removed.

"The bathroom's up the hall. It has a shower in it. We'll get you both some clean clothes and get lunch ready for you," John said. "I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't know what you were doing but why don't we come up with a less painful way to get these runes removed? We can numb different areas of Sam's body with anesthesia and hopefully it won't hurt Sam while you do whatever you have to do, and I guess, well I guess he can heal up the injuries before the anesthesia even wears off. I," John swallowed hard, "I don't want to hear either of you screaming in pain again anytime soon."

Motioning for the two to follow him, he led his sons down to the bathroom. Sam wrapped his arm around Dean's waist protectively as they walked down the hall.

"You should have everything you need in here," the father said, waving them in. "I'll have some clean clothes in here in just a minute."

Sam looked at John and tilted his head. "Thanks…Dad," Sam said, his eyes clearing a little.

After John gave a curt nod and shut the door, Sam immediately turned to Dean and wrapped his arms around him, pulled him close, and covering Dean's mouth with his own, he pushed his tongue in. He could still taste the blood but he didn't care.

Dean certainly didn’t appreciate the older man’s interruption of him kissing his brother. Unfortunately John Winchester was right. They were both covered in blood and weak. He needed to take care of Sam, and kissing the younger man breathless wasn’t what his brother needed right now. Sam needed him to take care of him. Sam needed him to be the master… at least for a little while. He would do it for Sam, because the younger man had asked him to. Until his brother was better, he would be the master.

So, tasting the younger man’s lips softly one last time he let his brother draw away, nodding at Sam’s words. Yes, they would fix it. He would make Sam better.

He saw when his brother began to slip away again, but even though it made his heart ache, and he felt another spark of anger for the demon who’d done this to Sam, it didn’t ignite the all consuming rage as it had before. Dean still felt intense guilt over what he had done. How he had lost control. How he had hurt Sam.

When his brother helped him up and their Dad apologized to him… for shooting him… Dean said nothing. The older man really had no reason to apologize to him. He couldn’t possibly have known what Dean was doing. Dean himself hadn’t really known what he was doing. Driven completely by rage, despair, and desperation. He shouldn’t have done that to Sam…

Dean merely nodded a little, acknowledging the older man’s words. Yes, they would have to find another way. A way that would not hurt Sam.

He almost protested Sam’s help to the bathroom, but he was a little shocked to find how much he actually needed it. He must have lost a lot more blood than he thought. Not to mention the expenditure of power they’d both made. They were not even fully recovered from battling Azazel yesterday. Sam must be feeling just as weak as he was, maybe even more, because of all the energy he must have spent healing them both. Yet Sam did not show it.

Once they were in the bathroom and Sam pulled him even closer, Dean did not hesitate going into his brother’s arms and kissing the younger man again for all he was worth. Once more wrapping his powers gently and protectively around his brother as their tongues twined together, caressing Sam tenderly with his hands as well as his powers, a silent apology for his roughness earlier.

The blood was beginning to dry sticky on their skin however, and while on one level he didn’t care, Dean knew they would both be more comfortable once it was washed off. Besides, Sam had very much enjoyed touching and kissing him in the shower before, they could just as easily continue there.

So Dean reluctantly pulled away from Sam, giving the younger man a reassuring smile and guiding Sam towards the tub. He adjusted it to a comfortable temperature and helped Sam inside. Not bothering to take his clothes off first because that would only make a bigger mess. Dean pulled the shower curtain shut, locking them away from the world, and then finally stripped off his blood soaked shirt. Dean pulled Sam back into his arms, and guided the younger man beneath the spray, noting how most of the blood was already being washed down the drain.

Dean smiled as he ran his fingers through Sam’s wet hair, helping the water rinse away the blood.

“I love you…” He whispered, guiding the younger man back into a kiss. Tasting more of Sam and less copper this time between them and Dean moaned softly in approval.

Sam felt the warm embrace of Dean's powers as readily as the strong arms that wrapped around him. Kissing Dean simply gave him a warm spot in his heart and he felt safe in those arms. The agony of the knife cutting into him, the rake of the dark powers in those wounds were still sharp, even in his confused mind, but Dean had done nothing worse that what Azazel had done to him and a part of him still considered it just punishment. Another part of his mind acknowledged Dean had done it to help him. In either case, he could tell Dean regretted the pain he had to cause Sam. Admittedly, Sam was not looking forward to the future sessions that it would take to fix him. Could they have a more fucked up family right now?

Sam wasn't particularly happy when Dean pulled away from him, but Dean's smile and the look in his eyes consoled Sam. He could feel himself slipping again and struggled to hold on, but he was so damned tired.

"Hard to stay with it. Tired," Sam said softly to Dean and then grinned, "but I'll remember 'Master.' So make sure we have fun."

He stopped fighting the spell and let his memories drift away.

Accepting Dean's help into the shower, he was glad when his master followed him in. The water immediately ran red with their blood as the spray cascaded over them. He was very pleased when Dean pulled off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest. His master had forgiven him and the love in those green eyes were back. He didn't think he could feel greater joy. He enjoyed the feel of his master's, no he was not to call him that, Dean's fingers running through his hair.

When the man told him he loved him, he smiled adoringly at Dean. That love was easily felt it in the gentle caress of the powers protecting him, in the soft touch of those hands, in the taste of his master's lips. He liked the Human world where there were soft beds and hot water and a master who loved him. He liked too, that he had no distractions, no worries. Remembering that his father was dead gave him a strange little empty spot in his heart, there was a larger part of him that was happy, knowing that no one would ever discipline him again except for Dean. He did not have to lead an army, he did not have to kill. Killing wasn't something he mined. He liked absorbing the life out of the living, but he liked just as much, if not more, simply basking in his master's presence and love. He had no one to answer to but Dean and that was wonderful beyond wonderful.

He responded to Dean's moan with his own, wrapping his arms around him and feeling the slick skin between them. He rubbed himself against Dean, wishing the man would finish disrobing and remove his pants. He contented himself with running his hands all over his master's back and running his fingers along the waistband teasingly. He decided he would not ask anything but rather let his master lead him to whatever his master wanted. He did not every want to see the fury take of in his master's eyes or feel the rage and the discipline of his master's knife. He simply wanted to love and serve him.

Have fun? Dean hadn’t been sure if Sam were serious or joking. But he supposed he felt relieved that the younger man was taking this so “well”.

Dean didn’t find it particularly amusing, what Azazel had done to his brother, making his brother forget him… everything… But there wasn’t much they could do about it now. At least, nothing he could do that wouldn’t cause his brother pain, and Dean refused to cause that kind of agony to Sam again. Sam had endured enough pain. Having “fun” sounded like a much better option right now.

So, Dean would do as Sam asked. He would pretend to be the master, and he would make sure they had “fun”. The way his brother kissed him, running his fingers along the waist band of Dean’s wet jeans, he had little doubt what that “fun” would entail.

Dean’s dick, already hardening again as he pressed and rocked his hips against the younger man, was in perfect agreement.

But instead of pushing forward, Dean ended their kiss gently. Drawing back and caressing Sam’s face with his fingertips, smiling tenderly at the younger man, and ignoring his body’s needs for now. He was going to take care of Sam first. That was his main duty, whether he was the master or the slave.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Dean said as he reached for the bottle of shampoo and squeezed a good amount into his hand. Drawing Sam out from underneath the spray just enough so he could run his fingers through the younger man’s hair and lather without having the water immediately wash away all the suds.

Guiding Sam back under the water he gently tilted the younger man’s head back and rinsed away the shampoo. Satisfied as he ran his fingers through the clean hair, he reached for the bar of soap next. Not bothering with a washrag, he used his hands. Running his hands over Sam’s shoulders and down his chest, cleaning away the blood and grime of his brother’s captivity. Dean wished he could so easily remove the new scars his fingers ran over, and mourned that he did not have the healing power that Sam did to even try.

“Turn around.” He told the younger man, guiding Sam around so he could wash his brother’s back next. Dean washed all the way down from the younger man’s shoulders to his buttocks. Though his fingers lingered a little longer on Sam’s ass cheeks, slipping between them to soap around his brother’s entrance with a soft moan. But as much as he wanted to slide his soapy fingers into the younger man’s body, he forced himself to wait. Kneeling down behind Sam as he began washing down the younger man’s legs.

Sam could feel his master's arousal and was surprised when Dean broke their kiss. That Dean wanted him clean first made perfect sense and he certainly had no idea when he had last bathed. The man's gentle hands washing his hair and rubbing over him, scrubbing away the blood and grime of what might have been days felt wonderful. He noticed how those callused fingers lingered occasionally over a scar. Azazel had given those to him he thought, but perhaps his master had given him some, and those were the ones he was pausing and admiring.

When Dean's finger teased his hole he moaned softly, more than ready for his master to finger him or fuck him. He readied himself for that entrance when instead Dean continued to wash him. He saw his master kneeling and shifted subtly so that if Dean wanted, his hole was ready and within easy reach. He leaned forward ever so slightly in offering. His own cock was growing heavier with each touch of Dean's hands and if he hadn't known he would be punished for it, he would readily be stroking himself.

He eyed his handsome new owner. Blood was still in his hair and he wondered if he should offer to wash Dean. Of course if he got to, he would spend some extra time on Dean's cock. He wished again his master would finish disrobing so he could see that throbbing member, touch it, take it into his mouth and suck and work it until Dean came so very hard he would never want another servicing him. He would give his master the absolute best head ever.

"Would you like me to wash you?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Dean looked up at Sam from where he knelt behind the younger man and couldn’t contain a groan at the sight that his brother made. Of course he’d noticed how his attentions were affecting Sam, how his brother’s cock was filling with his every touch along Sam’s skin. Of course he’d noticed how his brother had shifted, parting his legs and leaning forward in blatant offering. Giving Dean a perfect view of his ass, cock, and tight willing hole. So damned beautiful…

But Dean had ignored how Sam’s subtle seductions had been affecting him, instead concentrating on taking care of Sam, getting him clean. He couldn’t ignore them now though not when his cock reacted to the perfect picture of submissiveness, eagerness, and longing on Sam’s face and in every line of his body. Dean was so damned hard now his tight wet jeans were painfully constricting.

Wash him? Yes, Sam had liked that the first time they’d showered together. Dean nodded and stood, groaning again this time in more discomfort than pleasure. Yes, the jeans had to go.

Instead of reaching down to unbutton and push them down, he found himself reaching for Sam instead. Turning the younger man around again and pulling Sam against his chest, he kissed his brother again. Running his hands possessively over the younger man’s fresh clean skin and moaning a little in Sam’s mouth. So good… so perfect…

Sam was a bit confused by his master's actions. Dean obviously wanted him. He then confirmed he would like Sam to wash him, but before Sam could, Dean pulled him so tightly against him, kissing him, and his hands were everywhere, practically making Sam shiver in delight. Still, he should do as his master said.

He slowly turned them so Dean was under the water. Red tinged water cascaded over the man's shoulder as blood was rinsed from his hair. He couldn't help returning Dean's moan into his mouth. It was so wonderful to feel Dean's love for him.

Reaching out almost blindly he laid hands on the shampoo and even as their tongues continued to twine and tangle he poured some shampoo into Dean's hair. He lathered the man's hair, carrying the suds down Dean's shoulders and across his back. He ran his hands up and down Dean's back as the shower water rinsed Dean's hair clean. Running his fingers through the shortly cropped hair, he ensured the last of the soap was washed away.

His master's needs were apparent and the tight wet pants were surely uncomfortable. With great trepidation and being more than prepared to be admonished for his actions, he reached between them and undid the button and opened the zipper. He pushed down the waistband, freeing Dean's firmness and moaned louder as he felt it, flesh against flesh. Using the bar of soap, he lathered up his hands and ran them over Dean's back and now deeper, massaging the man's cheeks, running a soapy hand between the crack as he slid the pants down further.

As soon as Dean paused in their kiss to take a breath, Sam took that opportunity to begin to kiss his master's neck, washing each area before he reached it. He ran his hands along Dean's muscular chest, groaning with every touch of that wonderful skin. Expertly he toyed with the man's nipples, using one free hand to twist and pinch the one his mouth was not on, while the other dove down to Dean's abdomen and then he took the hard cock in his soap-slick hand, rubbing and stroking.

Dean went willingly wherever Sam wanted to guide him. Moaning a little in pleasure at the feeling of the warm water running over his hair and skin, though he certainly enjoyed the feel of his brother’s hands even more. He loved kissing Sam while the younger man worked. Twining his tongue with his brother’s while Sam massaged his fingers into his scalp was heavenly. Everywhere Sam touched him his skin felt even more sensitized, and he couldn’t stop his pleasured moans from spilling into his brother’s mouth. He didn’t even try to.

When he felt the younger man’s hesitation when Sam’s hands reached for button on his jeans, he ran his palms soothingly up and down his brother’s back. Encouraging his brother without words and groaning in obvious relief when he was finally freed of the constricting wet material. Not really caring that the wet jeans clung stubbornly around his thighs, only caring about Sam’s hands squeezing his ass, his fingers playing between his cheeks. Dean moaned again, thrusting his hips forward a little and rubbing his stiff erection against the warm wet skin of his brother’s thigh.

He almost hated to break their kiss, even though they were both panting hard by then. Needing air, but he still felt he needed Sam more. His fingers tangled in the younger man’s soft wet hair as Sam kissed and sucked on his throat. His other hand sliding possessively up and down Sam’s back, moving all the way down to squeeze his brother’s perfect ass, pulling Sam against him.

His breath hitched a little when Sam’s mouth and hands moved down to play with his nipples. Sam’s free hand curling around and stroking his aching member was almost too much. His fingers clenching in his brother’s hair as he cried out in pleasure, holding Sam to him as he thrust into the younger man’s palm.

“Sammy… so good…” Dean praised, knowing how much his master’s praise had always meant to him. Knowing how much pleasure he took just from pleasing Sam.

Sam's own heart jumped that much faster at hearing his master's words. He was doing well, he was pleasing Dean. That encouraged him to be more aggressive, biting and sucking Dean's nipples as he stroked his cock. Wanting to keep his master pleased, he began working lower with his mouth and his hand that had been at the man's nipples he slid around Dean's back. Freshening the slickness of his fingers with some soap, he slid his middle finger down Dean's crack, toying with the tight puckered flesh of his master's hole, rubbing and pressing as his tongue played in the man's belly button and his hand gave firm slow strokes to the hard member his mouth watered at the thought of being on.

When he just couldn't stand it any longer he went to his knees and using both hands slid the wet jeans down those firm muscular legs. He took Dean's hard cock deep in his throat, tightening his throat and relaxing it alternately as he moaned, beginning to bob his head. He pushed his middle finger inside Dean's hole, pushing past the ring of muscle and finding that spot he knew would make his master groan in pleasure. Feeling his master relax his sphincter he pushed in a second finger, slowly finger fucking him while he pulled back from Dean's cock so he could swirl his tongue around the sensitive crown and then play in his slit, lapping up the delicious precome before swirling his tongue around again and then taking him deep. The sounds his master made sent more blood to his cock and were he not so well trained, he would be stroking himself, but he wanted to focus everything on Dean. He wanted to give Dean the absolute best he possibly could and that meant ignoring his own needs. He dug his fingers into Dean's hip, helping to keep control of Dean's thrusts into his mouth.

He worked teasingly front and back, keeping it as long and drawn out as he possibly could, giving him everything he had, caressing Dean with his own powers, using his powers to caress Dean's balls, to make his two fingers feel larger and driving deeper than they in fact could. Only after his master's sounds of pleasure were reaching loud exquisite peaks of moans did he finally release Dean's hip and open his throat in full invitation.

Dean’s breath hitched and he groaned louder as Sam began to suckle and bite his nipples harder. The slight pain only making the pleasure more intense as his brother stroked his cock harder, making his already weeping dick leak profusely with precome. As he watched Sam pleasuring him and he felt he could come just from the pleasure Sam seemed to be taking from doing this. He looked so beautiful. So content and so needy at the same time. So desperately wanting to please him… as much as he wanted to please Sam.

His fingers pet gently through the younger man’s wet hair, encouraging without guiding too much. Dean wanted to see what Sam would do on his own, and he was not disappointed. Moaning deeply at the finger toying over his sensitive hole as Sam continued to lick his way down his chest and stomach. His nipples hard and aching now, begging for more attention even as the water running down his chest over them was almost more than he could bear.

God, what Sam could do to him…

When his brother finally fell to his knees, yanking down his wet clinging jeans completely, Dean did his best to help the younger man. Kicking away the constricting material and standing with his legs parted, giving his brother access to every part of him. Sam’s mouth engulfing his cock in slick wet heat made him moan and buck before he locked his muscles to stop himself. Letting Sam set the pace. Letting his brother pleasure him. Knowing it was what the younger man wanted, needed, most.

“So good, Sam… so good…” Dean continued to murmur soft praises between his moans of pleasure. Letting his brother know just how much he was affecting him as if his rock hard cock down his throat wasn’t enough. Dean groaned louder, forcing himself to relax to take in the fingers that penetrated him, his knees trembling a little as the pleasure became almost too much. The duel sensations of Sam sucking him off and playing inside of him bringing him to the very edge. His hips started to move of their own accord, fucking between Sam’s perfect lips and then back onto those exquisite fingers, even though he still tried to hold back as much as he could.

Dean remembered the first time Sam had sucked his cock. It was sloppy and inexperienced, and so damned good… His brother was far from inexperienced now, he knew why, and Dean felt tears of pain and anger stinging his eyes before he could stop them. Thankfully the water washed them away before Sam could see them. He didn’t want Sam to think he was angry at him or disliked what he was doing. He loved it… he just hated the way Sam had obviously learned it… He wished he could have been the one to teach Sam, he wished he was still the only one to ever touch Sam inside, he wished his cock was the only one Sam had ever tasted…

It didn’t make Dean want or love Sam any less, but that knowledge had been… special to him. He would never have that back. Another thing that Azazel had taken from him, taken from them…

Dean forced himself to let go of the painful thoughts and focus only on the pleasure. Moaning louder than ever as Sam expertly drove him insane with every deep touch inside him, every lick and suck, Sam’s powers caressing every sensitive spot on his body. When he felt Sam’s throat relax Dean couldn’t help cupping the back of his brother’s head, holding the younger man in place as he started to fuck Sam’s mouth in earnest. It didn’t take long after that, and soon his balls were drawing tight and he was coming down his brother’s throat with a loud shout. Yelling Sam’s name and not giving a damned who heard him.

The praise was so encouraging it only made him want this more. As soon as he felt Dean's hand go to the back of his head, he tightened his muscles and held himself steady. He kept his fingers inside his master's hole, stroking that special spot every time Dean pushed back. The man's pace increased and Sam took him deep. He felt the shift in his master's muscles and he readied himself. Greedily he swallowed it all down, refusing to let even a drop escape. He didn't want beaten for being so careless as to let any of his master's seed touch the ground.

Hearing Dean shout his name was almost too much too bear, his own cock begging to let loose, but he wouldn't, he couldn't, not until he was given permission. He continued to work on Dean's cock, licking and sucking until the hard member had begun to soften and until nothing was left for Sam to pull out. He finally extracted his fingers slowly from the man's hole. He looked up adoringly at his master then hugged Dean to his chest, resting his cheek against the solid muscle of Dean's abdomen. It was wonderful. He had never liked the way father had forced him, had beat him if he made the slightest of errors when pleasuring him. A part of him even seemed to loathe it, which he didn't really understand, but he didn't think too hard on it. It didn't matter. He was Dean's now and he wanted to stay Dean's forever. He picked up the soap and began washing Dean's legs as he had not gotten that far previously. He wanted to make certain his master was satisfied with everything he did.

Upon rinsing the last of the soap free of Dean's skin, Sam stood, ignoring his own need, his own erection still stiff and small drops of precome forming and rolling down his cock.

"Should I dry you and help you dress, Dean?" the young man asked, obviously anxious to please and trying hard to hide how happy he was at having brought such pleasure to his master.

Dean continued to groan obscenely as Sam sucked him dry. Making sure that the younger man knew exactly how fucking good it felt. He continued to push languidly into his brother’s mouth until his dick started to soften and Sam finally let him go and slid his fingers out of his ass. The look on his brother’s face when Sam looked up at him and hugged him tightly, pressing his cheek against his stomach, made Dean’s breath catch and he began to softly pet the younger man’s hair again. Murmuring words of love and praise he knew that his brother needed to hear.

“So good, Sammy. That was so good. Love you so much…” Dean whispered as Sam finished soaping him up and rinsing him off. He smiled at the younger man when his brother finally stood up, though when he noticed that Sam was still so hard his cock was weeping confusion crossed Dean’s face for a moment before he realized… and wanted to kick himself for being a moron.

He hadn’t given Sam “permission” to come. It had never really been an… issue… between him and Sam before. Because he knew how much Sam liked it when he came, but one of Azazel’s favorite games had been to work him up into a state and either leave him unsatisfied or force him to come without permission and then punish him. Dean should have known, but he hadn’t thought of it, and he found himself wanting to shed tears again but he wouldn’t. He would deal with this. He would take care of Sam. Sam needed him.

Dean shook his head slightly at Sam’s question, pulling the younger man against him once more.

“Not yet.” He said softly before kissing Sam gently, making love to his brother’s mouth as he slid his hands slowly down the younger man’s back to cup his ass. Turning them both and pressing Sam up against one of the shower walls, before finally breaking the kiss and smiling tenderly at the younger man.

“First I’m going to make you come.” He whispered, kissing Sam again softly ,but briefly. Working his way down the younger man’s throat to his chest. Pressing soft kisses into his brother’s skin between his words. “I love it when you come.”

Dean licked at one of the younger man’s nipples gently, sucking on one and then the other. Loving how hard and sensitive they were already, but he wasn’t going to tease Sam. His brother had waited long enough already. So he didn’t linger there long, kissing his way down Sam’s stomach as he went to his knees, and looked up at the younger man with another fond smile.

“I want you to come whenever you want when you’re with me.” Dean said before he took the younger man’s cock into his mouth, swallowing down the entire thick hot length, and moaning.

Sam was so proud of how he had done so far, but his breath caught just a little when he saw confusion flicker across his master's face. What had he missed? His master had seen his hard erection. No matter what, he just didn't think he could pleasure his master without getting hard himself. But he would try. He was almost ready to fall back to his knees and beg forgiveness and promise it would never happen again when the man denied that he wanted Sam to dry him off. He had screwed up. His master would need to punish him and then maybe he would let him try again, and this time he would…

And his master was kissing him. Kissing him like he had before everything had gone so wrong in the bed. Sam couldn't help the moan. Such a loving and wonderful kiss. He let his master lead him until his back was against the wall. He was breathless by the time Dean ended that kiss and then gave him such smile as to make his heart want to burst.

Wanted him to come? So quickly? His master was ready to go again so quickly? Dean was going to fuck him and stroke him until he came? Or maybe punish him and then bring him off at the height of pain? Azazel had always loved making him come, too, and he furrowed his brow just a moment. It had always…disgusted him…the way his father had done it. But he loved it when Azazel…he was so damned confused.

Dean's lips on his chest, his hot breath whispering over his skin was heavenly and he didn't care that he was confused. He liked what Dean was doing. When his master licked at his nipples he tried not to arch, tried not to moan, but it felt so good, and it took every ounce of control not to just come then, he was already on the razor's edge of it.

To come whenever he wanted?

"But I want to come when you want me to come, Dean," Sam said breathlessly, more confused than ever now, but when his master's mouth slid over his weeping cock, his knees nearly gave. Dean must be trying to get himself hard again so he could fuck him. But he could come whenever…?

Practically all thought left him when Dean began working on his need. The way Dean's tongue caressed him while he was inside that precious mouth, the way Dean pulled off enough to tease his slit and then swallowed him back down. He tried so hard to keep his hips still and he knew he would be punished for it, but he just couldn't stop himself from beginning to fuck into his master's mouth. His groans were loud as he fucked harder and his master didn't stop him, his master seemed to encourage him, and even seemed to like it. Dean was nothing like Azazel. Nothing. His love for Dean deepened to a level he thought was impossible, but he was Dean's. Utterly and completely. He hoped his master truly wanted him to come in his mouth because he wasn't even able to string a warning together when he felt his long denied need finally release. His master's name was a shout from his lips as he came so hard into Dean's mouth and he came again and again and again.

Sam’s words… echoing so closely to what he had told Sam once before, wanting what he wanted, made his heart ache. But it did not distract Dean from his goal. Namely, to give the younger man the most pleasure he possibly could. Wishing, foolishly perhaps, that if he gave Sam enough pleasure and love it might make the younger man forget all the pain he had suffered. It was a foolish wish perhaps, but Dean wished for it all the same.

It was so good. Having Sam’s hard cock in his mouth again. Dean moaned in pleasure and encouragement, squeezing the younger man’s luscious ass as he bobbed his head. Licking down the length of Sam’s flesh and then sucking and playing with the head. Encouraging his brother to fuck into his mouth, down his throat. Moaning around Sam again and again whenever the younger man thrust deeply, swallowing around him.

He felt Sam tense, knew his brother was already on the edge, and Dean pushed him over without mercy. Groaning when he felt the first hot splash of semen down his throat, swallowing every drop that pulsed from that precious cock in his mouth. His fingers tightening on Sam’s hips, steadying the younger man when his brother seemed to go a little weak kneed from the pleasure.

Just as Sam had done for him, he didn’t release the younger man from his mouth until his brother’s cock began to soften. Finally letting it slip from his mouth, rubbing his lips over the head to catch the very last drips, savoring them, before finally pulling away and looking up at his beautiful brother. He kissed the tip of Sam’s cock one last time before he stood. Supporting Sam with his hands on his brother’s ass and his body pressing the younger man against the wall, he claimed those sweet lips once more. Sharing the taste of Sam with him, still able to taste himself in the younger man’s mouth, he groaned in pleasure again.

“Perfect… utterly perfect…” Dean whispered between tender loving kisses.

He looked down, watching in awe as his master continued to suck on his cock until the last of his erection had all but disappeared. There was a memory, of seeing Dean do this before and he struggled to find that memory. He couldn't place it, couldn't remember it, so he decided to burn this memory in his mind instead. His breath hitched a little as Dean kissed the tip of his now soft cock and rose, his master's knees red from having been on them, having given him, his slave, the best blowjob in the world. A master should never be on his knees before his servant, but Dean so treasured him as to do this for him? If Dean so loved him now, he couldn't wait until all his runes were removed and his memory was regained. Maybe he would remember all the ways he had pleased Dean best before.

Dean's warm wet flesh pressed against his front while the cool wet wall pressed against his back in counterpoint. His kiss was heavenly, tasting himself amidst the lingering taste still in his mouth from his master's seed. Sam responded with pure passion, throwing his arms around Dean and holding him tightly, never wanting to let him go.

Perfect…? Sam beamed into each loving kiss. He wasn't sure if he could get better than perfect, but he would try. He never wanted to displease his master ever again. He wanted to be whatever Dean most wanted him to be.

He knew it was bold, but he wanted to let Dean know how much he loved him. He wanted to serve Dean and only Dean. "Can-can I be yours, forever?" Sam asked in between the kisses.

Sam’s soft hesitant question made his heart ache with how much he loved the younger man. It was so... almost innocent... That a part of that in Sam had been preserved, even though all the pain and torture that the younger man had been through, made Dean happy. Gave him hope that once Sam remembered himself he could be close to the person he was before all this happened. Dean knew the younger man would probably never be the same but... he hoped for Sam’s sake it would be enough. He would help his brother, do everything he could. The desire to protect and cherish his brother forever the only thing Dean could genuinely say he wanted for himself. He smiled at Sam adoringly and hugged the younger man even closer.

“Forever. As long as you want me. I am yours and you are mine.” Dean whispered softly into Sam’s ear, pulling back to kiss him again softly, and caress the younger man’s face tenderly with his fingertips. As much as he didn’t want this moment to end, he knew Sam needed more than this. His brother needed food and more rest, so after giving the younger man one last tender kiss relaxed his hold on Sam. Pulling away enough to shut off the shower.

“Lets get some food in you and then we can go back to bed.” Dean suggested, and he really did mean to return to bed to rest and sleep. But he certainly would not say no to pleasuring the beautiful young man one last time before they slept.

The way Dean smiled at him made him feel so very special. As long as he wanted Dean? He would always want Dean as his master! That they were each other's, he liked that, like that so much. I'm yours. You're mine. Always. He had said that to Dean. He remembered that. "Always," Sam said, finishing what Dean hadn't.

Dean's fingers brushed so lightly and gingerly across his face as if he were made of glass. He loved the tender kisses and his brother was a very good kisser. His brother…? The offer of food erased the thought almost as fast as the runes did. And the thought of bed was nice. He hoped Dean would give him a blanket maybe while he slept on the floor, though it was okay if he didn't. It was an indulgent wish and he really shouldn't expect such indulgences. They would weaken him. At least he wasn't hanging in chains and could actually lie down to sleep. He remembered it was a rare privilege to be permitted out of the chains to sleep on the floor. Smiling a little, he was pleased little bits and pieces were coming back to him. He knew the runes took them away again quickly, but he knew Dean wanted him to remember and this was very promising. Maybe his master would remove some more of the runes before they went to bed. It hurt a lot, but really not any worse than when they had been inscribed. And with each one his master destroyed, the closer he would become to being what he was.

Seeing that Dean was through kissing him, he quickly grabbed one of the towels and began drying off his master, planting light kisses as he did. Once his master was dry he cast his eyes on the clothes. Why were there two pairs of jeans and shorts and t-shirts? Perhaps to give his master a choice. One t-shirt was black and the other green, but he could tell no difference in the jeans. He was still dripping water and hastily wiped away just enough that he could be certain not to get the clothes wet.

"Shall I help you dress?" Sam asked, hoping Dean would indicate to him which set of clothes he wanted and which should be set aside for later.

Dean smiled and caressed Sam’s softly one last time.

“Always.” He echoed and stood still to let his brother dry him off. Sam touching him, even through the thick fluffy material of the towel, felt like heaven and he was almost disappointed when his brother was through. Dean reached for a towel to return the favor frowned a little when the younger man got out of the tub without drying off first. Instead going over to where the clothes were sitting that someone must have left for them at some point while they were busy in the shower.

Dad most likely since the older man said he would bring them.

Dean almost wished he hadn’t though because the look of confusion on Sam’s face as he stared at the garments made his heart ache. Another reminder that Sam wasn’t completely himself yet. Dean finally got out of the tub and approached Sam when the younger man asked to dress him. Instead Dean grabbed a towel began to finish drying off the younger man more thoroughly than Sam had done.

“In a minute.” He told Sam. Once he was finished with his brother’s body he ran the towel playfully over Sam’s shaggy hair a few times with a grin. Satisfied Sam was as dry as can be, Dean let the towel drop then finger combed through the unruly mop with a smile. “There, much better. Let’s get you dressed first now.”

Because of Sam’s earlier confusion he did not for an answer. Dean picked up the green shirt and a pair of underwear and handed it to Sam. He then picked up both pairs of jeans and shook them out, one of them was definitely longer than the other, and he gave that pair to Sam also with a smile.

“Do you need any help?” He asked the younger man. Dean was fairly certain that Sam remembered how to dress himself, since Sam had offered to help him, but if he didn’t he would certainly help his brother.

Instead of pointing out which set of clothes he wanted, Dean brought a towel over to him. Sam thought he had done a very good job of drying his master off but if not, then he would do it again and this time get it perfect. As he started to reach out to take the towel, the man took hold of his arm and began drying him off. He stared at his master, almost as surprised as when his master not only let him come but got down on his knees to do it. He stood docilely and let his master dry him off. The way Dean mussed his hair with the towel, grinning, made Sam return the grin, but he couldn't help his sudden shyness. His master was enjoying teasing him…and it was without pain. The feel of Dean's fingers through his hair felt wonderful.

Dean wanted him to get dressed first? The man had to be the most confusing master in the world. Sam hesitated only a moment when Dean asked him if he needed help getting dressed. Sam shook his head, the shy smile returning. He remembered how to dress. You couldn't lead an army naked, after all. It was just strange. And that he was dressed as well as his master? That seemed wrong, but the man seemed happy enough. He couldn't help but watch his master through the hair that had fallen across his eyes, admiring every ripple of that perfect body. If he hadn't just come, he thought he could get hard just watching him.

After Dean was dressed, Sam reached up and tucked the tag from the t-shirt that was sticking out, back inside Dean's shirt. With a light hand he stopped Dean and when Dean turned questioningly to him, he ran his own fingers through Dean's hair, making it look presentable. Hesitantly he stepped closer to Dean and gathering his courage, he planted a kiss on his master's lips, then felt his face redden as he hurriedly stepped back, his head down, unsure if he was going to get in trouble for it.

Sam’s sudden bouts of shyness was doing things to him that Dean didn’t fully understand.

On one hand, it made him want to take Sam into his arms, hold him tight, and simply keep him there. As long as the younger man was safe in his arms nothing could ever harm Sam again. The tender feelings he had towards the younger man and no one else were always strong, even when they were children. What he was feeling now was the same feeling he had when he would wrap his arms, as insubstantial as they were, around the younger boy and just hold him for as long as they were allowed together that time. Comfort him. Love him. Keep him safe…

At the same time, Sam’s shy looks and smiles were building such a heat inside of him. Even though he’d just come, he felt his cock twitch. He wanted to take Sam back to the bedroom, forget about the fucking clothes, because he wanted to touch and taste and worship every inch of his brother’s flesh. Dean wanted to kiss and fuck Sam until they were both utterly and completely spent and then do it all over again.

He wasn’t sure why Sam’s behavior was affecting him so. His brother was anything but innocent now… but he was behaving so, and it was really turning him on. The soft quick kiss his brother gave him making him somehow hotter than the passionate hungry kisses they’d shared not so long ago.

Dean smiled at the younger man and drew Sam close again, pressing a soft kiss to his temple and then his cheek.

“I like it when you kiss me.” He said softly, then pressed another tender, almost chaste, kiss to Sam’s lips. Biting back a soft moan that tried to escape him when he felt his cock twitch again.

Maybe he simply enjoyed pretending to be the master… a little too much…

Elation barely covered how Sam felt. Not only was his master not upset he had taken it upon himself to kiss him, but Dean returned the kiss three times and told him he liked it. That meant he could kiss Dean more often, and when he wished, unless his master indicated he didn't want the attention at the moment.

"Me too," Sam said softly. He was almost disappointed when Dean released him. He liked the way he felt so safe in his new master's arms. He knew, simply knew, he had never felt so safe in his father's arms. Azazel, he corrected himself. Dean didn't want Sam calling him father. He was having a hard enough time remembering that Dean didn't like to be called master.

He followed Dean down the hall and smelled the wonderful odor of cooking food. It smelled like a feast. When they entered the dining room he looked around, not quite certain where he should sit. He saw a place off to the side that should keep him out of the way while the others ate. He couldn't help but hope after they were done eating, his master might give him some water. He was very thirsty after have lost the blood he had. He was a little hungry and then he remembered his master said he was going to get him some food. That thought cheered him even more. He had done well enough to earn a meal! He quickly slipped over to the niche he had spotted and sat down pulling his long legs in close to him. Not surprisingly, he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, and he wasn't certain, but he didn't think he had ever eaten outside of his room nor without his chains on. He hoped that his master wouldn't forget his promise of food, but if he did, that was okay. He wasn't really that hungry.

Seeing Sam so happy and hearing the younger man shyly admit how much he liked kissing him made Dean want to pull his brother into his arms and never stop kissing him. But Sam needed more from him right now than just Dean making love to him, the younger man needed him to look after all his needs.

So Dean led the younger man out of the bathroom towards the kitchen. From the smells coming from that area Dean could tell that breakfast was probably almost ready. Surely Sam was hungry and thirsty even though he knew Sam would never admit it. Just like Dean would have never admitted it.

Dean moved to the table to sit down and it took him a moment to realize that his brother had not followed him. Of course it did not take much searching to find Sam, he knew his brother would not have gone far without his “permission”, however seeing Sam crouching down in a corner broke Dean’s heart a little more. Even though Dean had been trained to do much the same thing in Azazel’s presence. He knew is place...

But that was not where Sam belonged.

“Sam...” Dean said softly and held out his hand to the younger man. “You belong with me.”

Sam was surprised when Dean held out his hand. He hurried to Dean's side and took his hand and began to kneel on the floor beside him when Dean instead guided him to a chair. He didn't think he had done well enough to earn a place at the table beside his master, but he wasn't about to argue. He could hear the three men in the kitchen talking and the clatter of dishes. He tried not to fidget. The table was set and orange juice was already sitting in front of his empty plate.

The door to the kitchen opened and he saw surprise cross the older man's face. John Winchester. The man he was also supposed to obey. The man smiled then and set down a plate of hash browns and another plate filled with sausage and bacon.

"We don't need to call the boys, they're here," John yelled into the kitchen.

Jim brought out a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, followed by Bobby who brought in coffee and a bowl of grits.

The three men sat down and Jim bowed his head. Bobby and John followed suit. "We thank thee Lord for this bounty before us, for the aid of Briathos, and for returning the Winchesters to us safely. Amen."

Bobby and John echoed Jim's amen and started to dig in. Bobby glanced over at Dean and seeing Dean making no move to take any food, he finished filling his plate to overflowing. Taking Dean's empty plate, he slid the full plate in front of the young man. Meeting Dean's gaze he flicked his eyes to Sam and then to the overflowing plate he had put in front of Dean. He then started filling his plate with a more reasonable amount of food and set it at his own spot. Both John and Jim gave Bobby a curious look, but didn't say anything. Since the coffee was in front of him, Bobby motioned for the mugs to be passed down and he filled each one, handing them back.

The plates hadn't much more than been set in front of Dean when Rumsfeld slunk into the room and planted himself by Dean, and gave a soft, hopeful whine.

The way Sam hurried so quickly to his side tugged at Dean’s heart again, but he only continued to smile gently at the younger man. Quickly guiding his brother into a chair before Sam could kneel to him. He didn’t need to guess that was what his brother had been planning to do. He knew. It’s what Dean himself would have done if he were submitting himself to Azazel. Of course that thought made equal amounts of anger and sadness well up inside of him again but Dean pushed it down, reminding himself that Sam wouldn’t always be this way. He would remember, soon, and then things would be the way they should.

Dean was glad that not long after he took a seat beside his brother that the other three men came out of the kitchen with the food. He wanted to get Sam fed. Who knew when his brother last ate?

The young man did not bow his head during the short prayer and neither did Sam, not that he’d expected him to. But when the other man began taking food for themselves, Dean felt an almost panic well up inside of him.

Of course Sam would not take any food for himself. The younger man thought it wasn’t his place. Neither was it Dean’s place. But Sam needed to eat. Dean didn’t know what to do. Too many years of conditioning warred against his need to care for Sam.

Thankfully Bobby took the matter out of his hands. Setting a full plate in front of him and the older man’s meaningful look easing the panicked feeling that had settled inside of his chest. It was not only permission for himself to eat but for him to give some of it to Sam. Dean didn’t hesitate then scooting Sam’s empty plate closer to his and splitting the portion on his plate between the two.

He set the full plate back in front of Sam with a smile. Taking one of the coffees given to him and putting it next to the plate, and even moving the glass of juice that had already been sitting at Sam’s place setting a little closer. He brushed Sam’s cheek then with the back of his knuckles and gave the younger man a small nod.

“Go ahead. If you’re still hungry or thirsty let us know.” Dean said, and hearing the soft whine from his other side he turned to look at the dog with a grin. Snagging a piece of bacon from his own plate and giving it to the animal. He patted Rumsfeld on the head before he began eating his own meal. His eyes constantly darted between Sam to see if the younger man needed anything more and to the dog, occasionally offering up portions of his own food to the animal.

Sam’s eyes widened at all the food his master put on his plate. All for him? And he was fed before the dog? He leaned into his master’s gentle touch on his cheek just a little. Even though Dean had given him permission to eat, he didn’t touch anything until his master began eating. The first thing he did was scoop up the juice and drink the glass empty. Bobby immediately pushed himself away from the table and brought in two glasses of water that he set in front of Dean, one obviously meant for Sam. As soon as Dean gave it to him, he emptied half of the glass of its contents. With his thirst quenched he focused on the food. He started to scoop the food up with his fingers when he realized he had silverware. It felt strange at first to pick up silverware but after a few moments of awkwardness, he grew more comfortable and began eating the food at a steady but almost mechanical pace. He kept his features schooled showing neither pleasure nor displeasure at the food’s taste, but he couldn’t remember anything ever tasting quite so good. How much of that had to do with his master having given him the food and how much had to do with the food itself being good, and nothing in it but cooked food, he wasn’t sure. It seemed a little strange not to have the crunchy bugs he remembered was typical in his bowl of scraps. By the time he was half done with what was on his plate he was getting full.

“Rumsfeld will take anything either of you two can’t finish,” Bobby said, beginning to slow down on what he was eating himself. He slid a few more pieces of sausage onto Dean’s plate.

“His bowl for food,” Jim said hastily, ”is on the back porch.” The last thing he wanted was the slobbering dog eating off of his plates.

Bobby smirked at him. “Don’t want your dishes washed by Rumsfeld? I guarantee he won’t leave a morsel.”

Jim harrumphed as he pushed his not quite empty plate away from him and began sipping on his coffee. He glanced over at Sam. “How are you feeling Samuel?”

Sam glanced up guiltily and looked at Dean. He had never earned the right to eat at a table and he wasn’t at all certain what he was and wasn’t permitted to do. He certainly never expected to be addressed by any of the others. He immediately set down his silverware. He was actually a little relieved. He was quite full but hadn’t wanted to leave anything his master had given him. If he was being addressed, he was surely expected to stop eating.

With Dean’s permission to speak he straightened his shoulders and looked at Jim. “Strong and ready to fight as my fath—as Azazel taught me. My new master need only tell me what I am to do and it will be done. I await Dean’s guidance and orders.”

Dean had felt a flash of guilt go through him when Sam had drank the juice down so quickly. He wanted to kick himself for being an idiot. For not anticipating that Sam needed to drink because he knew Sam would never ask for something to drink no matter how thirsty he might be. Just as Dean would not. Already he was not taking care of Sam like he should… he had to do better, he couldn’t fail in this too. He couldn’t fail Sam again.

He was grateful when the older man got up and brought more water for Sam. Dean gave one of the glasses to the younger man but didn’t drink from his own. Leaving it untouched so that he could give it to his brother if Sam was still thirsty after he was done drinking.

Dean watched Sam eat, wondering if his brother liked the food or if he wanted more… or less. Maybe he should ask Sam if he was full. But he didn’t want Sam to think he wanted him to stop eating if he wasn’t full.

He hoped Bobby’s words that the dog would finish whatever they didn’t eat would be enough to reassure the younger man that Sam didn’t need to finish everything if he couldn’t. Dean gave a nod to Bobby and then to Jim when the other man indicated where the dog’s food bowl was.

Dean noticed Sam’s glance to him when Jim addressed the younger man and he felt his heart twist a little again but he tried not to show it. Instead giving the younger man a reassuring look and nod that he could answer, when Sam finally did answer… he couldn’t say he was really surprised by it. But still he could not stop himself from feeling the hot spark of anger inside of him again towards Azazel for what the demon had done to Sam. He knew that feeling would never completely go away, not even once Sam was better.

Dean ignored the other men’s reactions to Sam’s words and reached over to lay a gentle hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Don’t think about what Azazel taught you. You only need to worry about getting better and remembering.” He said gently.

Sam didn't really understand the looks on the faces of the three men. Shock? Surprise? Pain? Dammit, he was tired of being confused. He felt a spike of anger go through him that Azazel had taken away his understanding. He understood that distractions in battle were bad and could prevent him from taking the most expeditious course of action, but surely confusion was worse. If they would just give him an army to lead, he knew what to do. He didn't know what to do without a goal.

His master's hand on his shoulder calmed him immediately. If his goal was to get better and remember, then they knew how to do that. The runes had to be removed. The men, including his master, did not seem inclined to rush to that though. Perhaps they could only remove so many runes at a time. It seemed to him it had taken his father at lease a couple sessions to set them all in place.

He nodded to his master and then looked back down at his plate. He was fairly certain if he ate much more that he would make himself sick. The one man who had just spoken to him had left food on his plate and appeared to be done. The other man said the dog could be given what ever he didn't finish. He decided he would do as the first man did. He pushed his plate forward and begin drinking the coffee. He would watch his master and if it appeared his master was displeased, he would continue to eat. If not, he would feed the remains to the dog.

The first sip of coffee was a strange comfort, though admittedly he realized he like milk and sugar in it when it was this strong. With hardly a thought he reached out and pulled the sugar bowl close and scooped a teaspoon into it. He poured some milk into it and stirred. He sipped it again and a small smile touched his lips. That was better. That was right.

He suddenly set the coffee down in horror and turned guilty eyes on his master. "I-I'm sorry Dean," he said, and bowed his head, his hands going to his lap. How stupid was he to think he had such rights to take what he wanted from his master's table? He sat stone still, awaiting Dean's punishment, knowing it would be severe for such a terrible presumptuous act.

Dean let his hand slip off Sam’s shoulder and went back to eating, taking a bite of one of the sausages that had “appeared” on his plate and he was surprised but pleased as he watched Sam reaching for the sugar and milk and adding it to his coffee. It was something so simple, but it was a relief nonetheless to see Sam take something for himself. It was a reassurance that Sam was getting better, becoming more like himself, already.

Of course the smile immediately slipped off Dean’s face with Sam’s almost horrified realization of what he’d done and the younger man’s apology. Dean didn’t hesitate reaching over to touch Sam again, this time cupping the back of his brother’s neck and leaning towards him. Pulling Sam to him for a tender lingering kiss.

Once he was sure that Sam would not feel like he was going to be punished for his actions, Dean pulled back though his hand remained on the back of his brother’s neck caressing gently.

“Don’t be sorry. You can have whatever you want. You don’t need my permission first.” He said, smiling at the younger man again, before drawing away. “Are you done? Or would you like some more of anything? If you don’t want anything you don’t need to take it either.”

When Dean's hand went to the back of his head, he braced himself for the tightening of the fingers, for the slam of his face into the table, for whatever Dean deemed was justice. Dean leaned toward him and he expected gnashed words, fury, and he deserved it all and more. Instead Dean pulled him close and he stiffened, unsure what Dean was going to do in just retribution. But all he did was kiss him and knead the back of his neck where the muscles were tight as steel. The kiss was so very loving, he realized he was forgiven and felt his muscles unclench and the twisting in his stomach eased.

Sam looked at the half full plate at Dean's question. "I think if I eat any more I'm going to puke," Sam admitted softly, growing a little more confident his master wasn't going to be mad at him for not eating more. He chewed on his lip then asked. "Orange juice? Could I get half a glass of orange juice? I won't be able to drink more than that, but it was really good."

John stared as the man he knew was his eldest son kissed his youngest son and wasn't sure what he felt. He didn't consider himself prudish, and had never judged when he saw two of the same gender together, though he never quite understood it. He didn't consider it 'wrong', he just couldn't imagine himself kissing another man. That his son was kissing another man was…strange. That his son was kissing his older brother was even stranger, but John hadn't quite put Dean into the category of son yet. He accepted he was, he was grateful beyond measure his eldest was alive, but the connection, the classification just hadn't quite solidified for him yet. He still had moments when Dean was the man who had tortured him, made him scream, and enjoyed it. But when he saw the tenderness and love Dean had for Sam, the gentle touch, his mind pushed the memories of that torturing son of a bitch image from his mind. The young smiling face of his happy four year old Dean slipped into his mind. The demon bastard had taught Dean this was the way to show affection. And Sam. Sam's whole world had been uprooted. In just weeks he had gone from a pre-law student in college with a girlfriend he planned to marry, to a wielder of demonic power, to a gay lover of a boy he had apparently known all his life, who was also his brother, to the broken slave of the same demon who had ruined his eldest. And now his young boy considered his older brother his master. Sam had turned nearly white when he had realized he had done something without permission, and Dean reassured Sam the only way he had been taught to reassure. John suddenly hoped Dean never felt the need to reassure him.

Sam wanted orange juice. He'd always been a juice freak. It was a toss up if apple or orange was his favorite. But orange juice was his morning preference. Apple juice was something he would drink later in the day. John pushed himself away from the table and headed into the kitchen. In part it was to get the carton of juice from the fridge. In part it was to try to gather himself. He wanted to reclaim Dean as his son, but he wasn't sure he could if Dean and Sam were going to be together…that way. But maybe he could accept Dean as Sam's boyfriend. You treated your child's lover like an offspring, right? This was just a little more…twisted, trying to separate son from 'son-in-law' or however the hell he should think about it.

It was just going to take time, just as Jim had counseled him. He knew Jim wasn't particularly thrilled either, but when an angel of the lord gives it his blessing, not like Jim could say much. John took a deep breath and went back into the dining room, poured half a glass of juice as Sam asked, and set the carton on the table in case Sam decided he wanted more.

Of course he’d felt how Sam had tensed initially to his touch but when he felt his brother’s muscles relax underneath his fingers he smiled. Relieved when he ended the kiss and drew back the fear in Sam’s eyes was gone.

He nodded when Sam said he was done but he wanted more juice.

“Whatever you want.” He said, turning his head when John Winchester got up and went into the kitchen, assuming the older man was going to get it for Sam. Dean would have gotten up to get it himself, because Sam wanted it, but he was glad the other man did so he didn’t have to leave Sam’s side. When their Dad returned and filled Sam’s glass Dean moved the juice a little closer to Sam to further reassure the younger man that he could drink it.

Since they were both done Dean picked up Sam’s plate and dumped the remains back on his own plate while his brother drank his juice. Once Sam was done he got up and picked up the plate, Rumsfeld jumping up excitedly and wagging his tail knowing that it was meant for him.

“Would you like to come outside with me, Sam?” Dean asked.

Sam watched as the John Winchester got to his feet and returned with orange juice. His brow furrowed a moment. Dean said John Winchester was his father. How could someone have two fathers?

Only after Dean moved the orange juice closer to him did he pick up the glass that the older man poured for him. He drank it down slowly, but it one long draught. That was really really good. He wiped the orange mustache off his lips with the back of his hand and smiled at Dean and bobbed his head a little at his 'father' in thanks.

Sam quickly got to his feet. He was really kind of tired, but being outside, that would be nice. He sent out light tentacles to see if maybe the demon army was nearby, but the runes stopped his search. Maybe outside he could sense them. He laughed a little at the very excited dog. The dog certainly didn't look like it was starved but it was certainly excited about the food. Well, it was very good food.

He followed Dean outside and watched as his master put the food in the bowl. The dog stuffed his face into the bowl barely before all the food had been scraped into it. Now that he was outside, he reached out with his powers. Nothing. The place was very well protected against things such as demons, he could sense that, but there was no army. Dean had said Azazel was dead. Maybe that ended the planned invasion of the Human world.

"Dean, please tell me. Is the war Azazel planned still going to happen? Are you going to lead it? Am I still going to lead an army?" the young man asked. He didn't want to leave Dean's side, but he wanted, more than anything, to please his master and would do whatever was asked of him.

Of course Dean had felt his brother’s power reaching out but said nothing of it. If it would reassure the younger man to know for certain, rather than simply take their word for it, that there were no demons nearby, Dean could certainly understand that. He probably would have done it himself in fact, if Sam hadn’t, just to be sure. Despite the fact that he was pretty damned certain that now that Azazel was dead the demons under his command were probably too busy fighting amongst themselves for control to even think to worry about them.

Besides, the grounds around this property were so well protected against demons it would take nearly an army to break through. Of course, Dean had thought Bobby’s house and the panic room would have withstood a little longer than it had… but who could really gauge what would hold back demons against the power of a fallen angel? Hopefully neither of them would ever have to face another one any time soon. Azazel had been the first fallen angel to be able to crawl out of the deepest depths of hell in over a thousand years, so again, it was unlikely.

Dean smiled a little hearing Sam’s laugh behind him as the younger man watched him feed the dog. He gave Rumsfeld a little pat on the head after filling up his bowl before he straightened and turned to face Sam again. His brother’s question wasn’t really expected but Dean honestly wasn’t completely sure how to answer.

The demon army still existed after all and were, like he suspected before, probably all fighting over the leadership of it. That could take decades for all Dean knew, unless an extremely powerful demon came out on top very quickly. Would that demon try to follow through with Azazel’s plans? He had no idea. He doubted any demon, would turn to Sam for leadership however. Most likely they would either ignore Sam’s existence completely, thinking Sam was dead, or try to kill him because of the plans Azazel had for him.

Dean wasn’t going to let that happen. He crossed the small distance between them and gathered the younger man up in his arms.

“Whether or not there is a war, we won’t be a part of it. You are all that matters to me. I’m going to take care of you, keep you safe, always.”

They wouldn't be part of the war? All his training…? Sam wasn't certain he really understood, but if that's what Dean wanted who was he to argue. He was a servant, a slave, and he would of course accept it. He liked very much that Dean held him close and that Dean promised to take care of him. He wrapped his own arms around Dean and shut his eyes, resting his chin on Dean's shoulder as he tentatively twined his powers with his master's. Dean could be one of the most powerful if he chose to be. Dean was strong and Sam knew he himself was quite powerful and with their powers so entangled, Dean had full access to everything that was Sam's. Dean didn't seem to care about the power though. He didn't seem to care about anything other than Sam and Sam felt so safe and loved in his master's arms. He felt…important. A slave probably shouldn't feel that way, but he felt important to his master and that seemed, in his mind, to be okay.

Dean said he liked it when Sam kissed him. He liked it when Dean kissed him too. He twisted his head and kissed the side of Dean's neck, sucking a little and slowly working his way up his master's neck, nibbling and nipping at the man's jaw, before continuing up to Dean's mouth. He groaned softly as he kissed Dean deeper and felt his cock twitch in anticipation. Rolling his hips forward, he pressed against the man, inviting the man to take him and enjoy him if he so chose. Although Sam was tired, he wanted to pleasure his master again. he wanted to make his master feel as happy as his master made him feel.