Demons didn't really need sleep, considering they weren't really alive to begin with. Just like they didn't really need food, or water, or even to breathe like mortals did. Nevertheless just like eating and drinking fine foods sometimes Dean indulged in brief naps. Frankly, immortality could be boring and anything to break up the 'routine' from time to time was welcome.

Dean was always kind of amazed that even though demons did not need sleep they could dream just fine. Often when Dean dreamed he dreamed of his years in hell, recalling nightmarish images that would surely drive any mortal insane. Those dreams… were not pleasant. Some might find that a little strange, but hell was hell even for a demon. There was a reason why so many of his kind tried to crawl out of the pit, after all. Very few were strong enough. Even fewer actually enjoyed their time in hells depths. Dean was not one of them, and he certainly had no intentions of ever returning to the pit.

Given that, one might wonder why he bothered to sleep at all. It was because sometimes, once in a blue moon, he would dream of his time before he'd been dragged to hell. It was those dreams he longed for. Those dreams he cherished and clung to. As painful as the memories were, some of them worse than his memories of hell, he did not want them to fade. He did not want to forget…

It surely had to be the presence of the young mortal at his side, because Dean could not remember the last time he had slept so peacefully or deeply. He also couldn't remember the last time his dreams were so vivid, the memories so clear, as though he was actually there…

*

(1609)

Dean trudged slowly along the muddy path leading up to the house. The heavy rain stung his eyes like little needles, and his clothes had long since become soaked through. His muscles ached from both weariness and cold. It had been raining for almost two days straight now, and though it was spring there was still an unmistakable chill in the air. Winter unwilling to give up its grip on the land without a fight it seemed.

The lighted windows, thoughts of a warm fire, and his brother waiting for him made Dean smile. Work on the farm was hard anyway, but when it rained like this it seemed ten times worse. Samuel hadn't wanted him to work of course, worried that he would become ill due to the rain, but the work needed to be done. They were barely getting by as it was, and Dean could not afford to leave the crops and animals untended even for a day.

Samuel wanted to help, of course, but they both knew the boy couldn't. His brother couldn't even help him with most of the work on the farm even on the nicest days. He was simply too frail. Working in weather like this would surely kill him.

His brother helped him in other ways. Some of his 'inventions' had made certain tasks on the farm much easier for Dean and while the work was still hard, Dean didn't mind it. He would do anything for Samuel. His brother was his entire world. All he had left. His only real regret was that the work took him away from his brother's side for most of the day.

When Dean reached the front door of their home, he kicked off his mud caked boots, leaving them outside. Knowing that Samuel would scold him for tracking it in the house if he didn't, and while sometimes he did so anyway just to annoy the younger boy Dean didn't really feel like cleaning up tonight.

Dean opened the door and sighed pleasantly, glad to finally be home.

"Samuel?" Dean called out to his brother as he made his way over to the fire, pulling off his soaked shirt clinging to his skin on the way and hung it by the fire to dry.

Hearing his brother's voice, Sam immediately pushed himself up off the kitchen table he'd been leaning on to rest. He'd managed to get the fire going and had a stew in the pot, wanting it to be ready when Dean got back. "I'm here," he answered, reaching for his crutches. Not wanting Dean to think this was one of his bad days, he decided to use only one of them and slowly made his way to the living room. The minute that his brother thought he was having trouble walking, he was sure Dean would insist on carrying him upstairs and since he'd been up and working since dawn, the last thing Sam wanted to do was add to his burden, if he could help it.

He saw that Dean had already taken his shirt off, and quickly looked up when Dean turned. "You look like a drowned rat, without the beady eyes," he smiled, and headed for the couch. Leaning down, he picked up a a thick blanket off the back of the worn couch,"hurry, get out of those wet clothes, or you'll catch a chill. I brought trousers and a shirt down." Because his hands were busy, he pointed with his chin to where he'd hung them on hooks he'd put on the wall.

The trek up the stairs to get the extra clothes Dean would need had worn him out. But he was afraid that he'd be confined to bed tomorrow, so he wanted to be able to do as much as he could today to help his brother today. "Are you cold?" He put his hand out and felt Dean's cheek, then nodded. "The fire will warm you. There's stew on the fire, and Mrs. Johnson brought a bit of bacon. I'm sure you can smell it." He could hear Dean's stomach growling and bit back a criticism. Dean hadn't taken any food with him, and he hadn't come to lunch. He worked much too hard, and Sam knew whose fault that was. "I'll bring it out here, it's warmer."

Dean frowned a little when he heard his brother’s voice from the kitchen. Damn it. He’d told the boy to stay in bed most of the day, what was he doing in the kitchen?

He turned to face the younger boy when he heard the telltale sound of his brother’s crutch against the wooden floor. Sam was only using one today, which was good, but he’d ordered his brother to stay in bed as much as possible today to keep warm. He didn’t mind that Sam had started the fire, but he shouldn’t be up walking around. Dean was worried that with the rain and the chilly air his brother might fall ill again, even though Sam usually had an easier time in the spring and summer.

“I thought I told you to stay in bed, Samuel.” Dean replied, pretty much ignoring the ‘drowned rat’ description his brother gave him as his fingers worked at the button and laces of his trousers. Probably because he knew it was true. The soaked material clung wetly to his legs and it was a little bit of an effort to get them off, but he managed, then hung them to dry next to his shirt.

When Samuel said he’d brought down dry clothes for him, Dean’s frown only deepened.

“You know I don’t like you walking up and down those stairs when I’m not here too.” Dean repeated for probably the hundredth time. But did Samuel ever listen to him? No. His brother did what he pleased no matter what Dean said and sometimes Dean just wanted to throttle the boy because of it. Instead Dean merely sighed and shook his head.

Yes, he was a little cold, but he was warming up quick thanks to the fire as Sam said. He’d wait until he dried off a little before putting on the dry clothes though. No sense in getting them wet too. He could definitely smell the stew and the bacon and he was starving. He hadn’t had anything to eat since early this morning before he started work. When Sam offered to bring him some food from the kitchen however, Dean caught his arm and shook his head again.

“I’ll get it. You sit and cover up. Have you eaten yet?”

He had expected the scolding and accepted it, head hanging down. Couldn't Dean understand that he didn't want to be a complete burden on him? It was best not to argue though, it would blow over much faster and Dean would forget.

When his brother had said his piece, Sam started to turn but Dean caught his arm. Looking up, he saw it would be best not to argue. Not that he was afraid of Dean, but his brother had a long day and looked exhausted. "Okay. I'll have a little," he nodded. Noticing the goosebumps on Dean's flesh, he once again held up the blanket, only this time he put it around Dean's shoulders with just a little difficulty. His palm slipped across his brother's muscled chest as he pulled the two ends of the blanket together and he quickly dropped his hand.

"You want to eat here, then?" Licking his lips, he turned around and slowly made his way to the couch. Most nights they ate at the kitchen table, but the fire in here was bigger. At Dean's nod, he sat down and grabbed the blanket on the arm of the chair and pulled it over himself. Just as Dean walked away, Sam sneezed. Immediately his eyes met his brother's and he shook his head. "Don't worry so much, Dean. I'm fine, just a sneeze. Go on, get something in you before you get sick."

As soon as Dean was out of the room, Sam's small smile dropped away. He asked for the thousandth time why it was he was like this? Mostly confined to the house and always on the verge of being sick? Why couldn't he be more help to his brother? Their neighbor, Maureen, who came over once in a while to see Dean had made things really clear to Sam a short while ago. She'd told him how Dean refused to go to local dances, to participate in town hall meetings, or to accept the occasional work with influential and wealthy people who could help him make his way, all because of his invalid brother. Basically she'd meant it would have been better off if he'd died at birth or when he'd fallen through the ice and really weakened. Sometimes he wondered if she was right, but then he'd manage to make Dean laugh, or they'd share a silent joke, and then he knew better. Yeah, it would be a lot easier on Dean if he weren't around or if he were healthy, but Dean needed him too.

His brother brought out two bowls of steaming steaming stew and a big hunk of bread. Seeing that Dean was already chewing on a large piece of the bread, Sam laughed. "This isn't a stable, Dean."

Minutes later, they were both facing the fire and eating. Sam would ask him about his day and then listen to Dean's familiar voice run down everything he did and saw. It had been this way forever, Dean allowing Sam to experience the outside world through himself by patiently detailing all of the events of the day.

Then he'd ask what Sam had been up to. Sam would either pretend he'd done less than he had, just to avoid antagonizing Dean, or he'd exaggerate and say he'd done things he wasn't capable of, such as building a new wing to the farmhouse.

Soaking a piece of bread in the stew, then popping it into his mouth, Sam reached for his slate. Putting it on his lap, he showed the chalk drawing to Dean. "Bet you can't guess what that is." Seeing his brother roll his eyes, he shook his head. "You can make fun of it now, but come spring, you're not going to believe how much time it will save you and your back. It's a seeder... or a seed bag. You'll be able to push the cart and the seeds will fall into the rows of soil you've plowed, and you won't have to bend. I'm also thinking about maybe finding a way to harness it to a horse, and you'll have an easier time of it," he said proudly. "When I decide what I need, I'll make you a list." He flashed his brother a grin, knowing how Dean hated going to town and asking for strange pieces, depending on what Sam needed. "Don't worry, your reputation is safe. They'll think its just for your mad brother."

Dean nodded when Sam said he would eat with him, and gave the younger boy a slight smile when his brother wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. Even if he didn’t really need it, he was warming up fast thanks to the warmth of the fire, but better safe than sorry. Dean couldn’t afford to become ill himself for a multitude of reasons. The most obvious being if he got sick there would be no one to take care of the farm, but the bigger worry he had was giving any sickness he might contract to his brother. His brother was so frail, even the slightest cold that might keep Dean in bed for a day could keep his brother in bed for weeks. Dean couldn’t risk that.

He gave the younger boy a nod that they could eat in here rather than the kitchen, and watched as his brother settled himself on the couch before he turned to fetch their food. Samuel’s sneeze made him freeze and turn back to the younger boy quickly, worry in his eyes.

Worry that Samuel simply waved off telling him it was just a sneeze… Dean frowned a little but nodded. Samuel knew better than to try to hide an illness from him. Dean had made it quite clear, many times, if Samuel even thought he was starting to get sick to tell him. So that Dean could buy medicines and arrange for someone to take care of the younger boy, or take care of Samuel himself, if need be. If they took care of an illness early, it was much less strain on Samuel. If they caught it too late… Dean didn’t even want to think of it.

So Dean merely continued his way to the kitchen, inhaling the delicious smells of the stew and fresh bread. His stomach growling loudly as he ladled stew into two bowls and cut slices of bread for them both. Unable to help himself, dipping his bread into his own bowl and taking a large bite from it before carrying the steaming bowls out to his brother. Merely grinning as he chewed at Sam’s teasing.

He passed Sam one of the bowls and took a seat on the couch next to his brother with a sigh, glad to be off his feet finally. He immediately dug into the stew with enthusiasm, it was delicious. Though Dean wouldn’t have cared much right now if it were otherwise, Samuel was a very good cook.

As they ate they spoke about their day, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh a little as Samuel went into his flights of fancy. When his brother reached for his slate however, Dean raised an eyebrow in curiosity as he looked at the picture Samuel showed him. No, he couldn’t figure out what it was, but that was nothing new. Truly, Dean had no idea how his brother thought up the things he did. But he knew from experience never to argue with the younger boy.

In fact, the irrigation system that Samuel had designed and Dean had built had improved their crops so much last year they’d gotten more than triple the harvest they usually did. Dean was able to pay off a vast amount of their dept with the profits, and if the crop was even half as good this year he might be able to pay off all of it.

Though when their father had died there had been some money it had been depleted quickly, especially after Samuel’s accident. Dean hadn’t been able to work on the farm when Sam was so ill and nearly died, he had spent all his time looking after his brother, and medicines were expensive. Dean had worked hard to try to pay off that dept after Sam had gotten better, but there was only so much work he could do alone on the farm.

Mr. Myers had often offered to buy their land to ‘help’ him, but Dean had always refused. He was not going to sell their land his father had worked so hard on, but sometimes Dean had worried that he might have no other choice. If it came down to keeping their land or caring for his brother… Thankfully it looked like it wouldn’t come to that, and it was thanks to Samuel and his ‘inventions’.

Dean laughed softly and ruffled the younger boy’s hair. Yes, there were plenty who thought that Samuel was ‘odd’ to say the least. But Dean didn’t care what others said. Samuel was his life, he would do anything for this boy he loved so much.

“Alright then, make me a list and I will go buy what you need the next time I go into town.”

Sam nodded, a wide grin on his face. "One of these days I'll come up with something we can make a lot of, and sell. Then you can get help around this place and rest a bit." Dreams of that day filled Sam's head as he finished his meal. Course it ws no surprise that his brother pulled his bowl, and scraped everything in it with a piece of bread. "There's more in the kitchen," he pointed out, shaking his head when Dean answered he knew, and would be getting more soon.

That evening passed the same as most nights. Dean put his legs up and rested as Sam read him stories, when the local school marm received new ones that she could loan, or from the ancient family bible. Other times, he made up fantastical tales, sometimes throwing in magical elements that his brother kept telling him would get him burned at the stake if certain people got wind of them. Then they'd laugh, and Dean would ask for another story until one or both of them got sleepy.

As Dean took care of securing all of the doors, Sam started up the stairs. His brother picked him up in his strong arms, despite Sam's protests. By the time Dean lowered him onto his bed, Sam was flushed and looked away. "Goodnight Dean," he muttered, closing his eyes when his brother gave him a quick hug, and then panicking when Dean tried to help him off with his clothes. Adamant tha the would put on his own nightclothes, Sam waited for Dean to go to his own bed and change. His eyes lingered on his brother for a moment, then he dragged his gaze away and quickly changed. Pulling the bedcovers up to his chin, he watched Dean until his brother blew out the candles in their room and told him to go to sleep.

*

In the morning, Sam woke with a start. There was a little light coming in through the shutters, just enough to show him Dean was already about. He started to get out of bed, but then Dean came in and ordered him back to bed. it was early, but it was always early when Dean got up. "Someone's got to make your porridge," he said, putting his feet down on the cold floor and shivering.

It was bitterly cold. It seemed they were having a cold snap. Sam's entire body was shaking as he struggled to get up, when Dean was in front of him, pushing him back into bed. His brother hugged him for a long moment, then ran his hands up and down his body, telling him it was foolish for him to get up on days like this, that he was shivering.

At first Sam was busy apologizing, but then he closed his eyes. He pressed his lips together, squeezing his eyes tight. "Stop... please Dean," he whispered thickly, sounding almost bewildered. "I won't get up... I won't." A small sound broke from the back of his throat, and then Dean was apologizing for squeezing him too tight.

Sam didn't say anything, didn't open his eyes until after his brother left the room.

Before Dean left the farmhouse, he was back upstairs with a steaming bowl of porridge, some bread and cheese and water. "Come home for lunch," Sam said plaintively as his brother disappeared and he could hear him running down the stairs.

***

(Present Day)


Dean awoke due to bright light filtering through the slightly parted curtains. Damn it. He'd thought he'd closed them. Normally he might not have cared so much for being woken, even as early as it was. He didn't actually need sleep after all, but he'd been having such a vivid dream.

Samuel. Long before his brother had died. Things had been so simple back then. Sure, life had been hard but they had been happy. It had been just the two of them, but that was all they needed. They had been content… if only they'd been left alone. If only…

Dean hadn't wanted to wake from that dream, and he was angry at the light that had pulled him from his dreams. When was the last time he had seen his brother in his memories so perfectly? The shade of his eyes, the curve of his smile, the sound of his laugh… He'd even remembered things that he didn't even remember noticing as a human. How the younger boy would look at him sometimes… or not look at him. How Samuel would sometimes touch him or react to being touched…

It made him wonder a little if it had even been a memory at all and not a fantasy of his mind. Perhaps conjured up, wishful thinking. To convince himself his brother, his Samuel, might have welcomed the attention that Dean was showing Sam now…

Sam. He was surely the reason why he had dreamt of his brother so vividly. But the boy was not in bed with him now, he was not even in the room. Dean pushed himself up slowly, his eyes quickly scanning the space, lingering on the open door that led from his bedroom to his large bathroom. Thinking perhaps that the boy had just gone there for the moment and would be back… but he wasn't there.

"Sam?" Dean called, but there was no answer. His apartment was far too quiet, and Dean quickly got up. His suite may have been large, but it did not take the demon long to check every room, even ones he knew Sam had no reason for being in. Every room he checked his anger grew and Dean had to admit the simple truth he wanted so badly to deny. Sam was gone. The young man had left. Not even waking him before he'd gone. He'd just… left…

With a roar of rage, Dean picked up the first object within reach, an ancient antique vase and hurled it into the wall with enough force that it dented the wall even as the vase shattered to dust. His demonic energy lashed out. Destroying everything in its path. Throwing furniture. Destroying priceless artwork. Even tearing down walls. Even when everything in the suite was reduced to rubble Dean was left shaking with unspent rage in the middle of the debris. His eyes black as the darkest night.

A part of him, a large part, wanted to go after the young human but much like the first night Sam had run from him, Dean knew he could not. Not yet. In his rage he might do something he knew he would regret later, like tear the fragile mortal to pieces much like his apartment.

So he would wait. There were plenty of other mortals to take out his anger on until he could see Sam again. And make the boy understand it was not wise to toy with the feelings of a demon.

Dean looked around his ruined home in disgust and shook his head. Well… he'd been thinking of redecorating anyway.

Sam felt foggy-brained and distracted. Between that and the pain that came with sitting, he barely understood what the teacher was talking about. It was apparently so noticeable that the the professor told him he should go to the university clinic and get checked out. Right, have someone check out my asshole and ask me what the fuck I've been inserting in it.

His cheeks flamed at the thought, as he trudged back to his dorm, backpack over his shoulder. Every once in a while, it would hit him hard ... the fact that he'd gone on a date with a guy, and then let the guy fuck him. And liked it. A lot. He couldn't even explain the way he'd acted, it was so unlike him. He liked to weigh his every step, pre-plan things. The plan had been to get his fucking wallet and leave.

He tried to imagine himself doing just that, but every time he thought of Dean's eyes on him, his voice so low and raspy... he grew all sorts of warm and remembered how much it had been like a force of gravity, or a magnet, a tugging and pulling so strong, he could not for the life of him refuse. Something about that man sucked him in so hard.

'Sucking' and 'hard'... Bad thoughts! Bad thoughts! Almost panicked, he raced across the greens, despite the physical discomfort each running step caused him. Later, behind the closed doors of the his room, he pulled his cock out and brought himself off in record time just thinking about the way Dean looked at him, like he wanted to devour him, as they fucked.

*

"I'm fine, just tired," Sam told the professor. Giving a forced smile, he walked out of class. He was usually on the ball and had a ready answer on the tip of his tongue. Tonight, he'd been called on no less than four times, and each time he'd had to have the question repeated. After class, the professor had stopped him and told him he looked frazzled, and asked what was wrong.

Wrong? Nothing was wrong. He'd had a one night stand, so what? He shouldn't feel guilty over it.
As he headed to the school's food court, he thought about his feelings some more. No, it wasn't guilt he was feeling. It was fear. It was illogical, there was no reason for it, but he was very afraid of his own feelings. He'd always thought of himself as cool and calm, not real impassioned about anything. But his feelings about one Dean Winchester were so fucking intense, they didn't only confuse, but they hurt.

He took a burger, fries and drink to go. Tonight, he'd keep his mind off Dean by studying hard for tomorrow.

Hours later, he cursed Dean and slammed his books shut. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his mind of Dean. It wasn't even just the sex he kept thinking about. It was the timber of his voice as he spoke, the low chuckle he gave once in a while and the way he made Sam feel. Sam didn't think he was an attention whore. It was quite the opposite. But when he was with Dean, somehow it felt like he held the man's attention, like he was the center of his world for that moment in time. It was crazy, but he couldn't help that it felt that way. At times it was comforting, like being protected from the rest of the world. Othertimes, it was exciting and dangerous and... yeah, it got his hormones going.

Hitting the light switch with his fist, Sam spoke out loud. "I will not be some lame obsessed kid."

*

He slept, he dreamed, and he woke with one raging hard on after another. It was like before, only worse, because now he knew what it felt like to be touched and fucked by Dean. The need that swept over him was was more precise, sharper somehow. He had lotion next to his bed, and a box of tissues, and if he had to jerk off one more time before dawn he was sure he was going to cry.

Sam felt so damned out of control, he didn't know what to do. He'd bet Dean wasn't going through this shit. By now, he had already forgotten about him. Strangely, that thought didn't comfort him. It had him getting out of bed before dawn. He had to clear his head. He had to find his way back to himself, this just wasn't working for him.

Walking across the room, he grabbed his jogging suit thinking a run was what he needed both for his head, and his body.

*

The next day was no better. Sam still couldn't get his shit together. He was listless and inattentive, and even his friends started to question him. Drew dragged him aside and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Eventually Sam cracked and head hanging down, told him the whole story.

For once, Drew didn't joke around. He basically told Sam that he should do whatever felt right, other than going crazy the way he seemed to be. Course that was easier said than done.

Then there was the fact that Sam didn't know what he wanted. Yeah... he'd liked hanging out with Dean and when he thought about the man, all he could think about was how good his hands felt on him, how well their mouths fit together and that... that feeling of walking on air. But Dean had also disrupted Sam's life, and that part of it, Sam didn't like so much. He wasn't used to being out of control, obsessing over anyone. He liked to be able to study, to be logical and disciplined.

Dean Winchester had somehow taken all of that away from him in one fell swoop. He thought about that green eyed devil too often during the day. And he was damned well tortured by him at night. He liked jerking off as much as any other guy, but waking up for it... that wasn't right.

He couldn't answer Drew when his friend asked him if he was gay, or he'd 'gone gay.' Somehow, he agreed to meet up with his friend for a double date. Drew's girlfriend's cousin was apparently in town.

He got back to his room that night around midnight. He was good and tipsy on beer, and he'd tried his damnedest to have fun. He'd even kissed the girl, pulled her into his lap. She'd been into it, he knew that much, but he'd stopped when he realized it didn't matter what he did, who he kissed or touched, in his mind, he was seeing Dean. That just wasn't fair.

* * *

It was quiet, and then all he could hear was the load roar of the fire and of wood burning under him. His hands were tied behind his back and he couldn't pull free, even as he tugged. There was a sea of faces in front of him, some chanting and shouting, some giving him looks of pity, some soundlessly wishing him a quick and merciful death.

He searched the crowd. Felt his feet start to grow warm, felt the panic build within himself. Then he saw him. Green eyes staring at him, tearing but not looking away. The woodpile shifted under him, and he dropped down ankle deep into the fire. Screams erupted from his throat as painful flames peeled his skin and flesh away from bone. He tried to jump forward, toward those eyes... then he saw the panic reflected in them and suddenly stilled. Gritting his teeth together, he tried to hold back on his screams. it wasn't possible, but he stopped trying to fight to get free.

The fire surrounded him, the smell of burning meat nauseated him, and then he'd had all he could bear. He screamed and everything went black.

Sam awoke with a start. His throat hurt, as if he'd really been screaming. The dream was back, full force. Only now, those green eyes were set in a face he remembered, and he had a name for that face... Dean... the name he'd shouted.

Getting up, he headed to the small bathroom to was his face. If this was the alternative to waking with a hard on, he'd rather have to jerk off until his hands were calloused. Yeah, he knew this he couldn't blame Dean for. This dream... he owned it. From ever since he could remember, it would visit him and torture him. Only this time, it had been a hundred times more vivid. And the pain had been far more real.

* * *

Sam was tired. He hadn't slept well, and he still couldn't concentrate much. He'd reached for his phone a couple of times, only to remember he didn't know Dean's number. And even if he did, what was he gonna tell the guy? Yeah you're super hot, and I feel lucky to have met you, but no, we're not doing this again because it makes me go crazy? Right, that would go over like a lead balloon.

All day long, that urge to see Dean, to talk to him, grew stronger. His imagination had him in knots, thinking about telling Dean how he was feeling, or just walking up to him and kissing him, or begging him to stop the pain.

Yeah... pretty much, he was screwed. Staying away wasn't working for him. Freaking out about what he'd done that night wasn't working for him. Trying not to think about Dean wasn't working... hell, he might as well go see the man.

* * *
First, he'd gone to Dean's place. When Dean didn't answer the door, he'd gone down to the garage to find out if the valet knew where he'd gone. The workers remembered him and said he was at his usual hangout. Dante's.

If he'd been thinking straight, Sam would have waited another day and worked on his bike. Once he got it fixed, he would be able to get around better. Instead, he'd taken the last bus over. if he didn't find Dean, then he'd have to go back by foot, just like he'd done on his birthday. It was fine... but stupid.

He showed his license at the door and was allowed inside. It was a weekday so even though the club was crowded, there hadn't been a line outside.

The music thrummed around him, it's beat insistent and sensuous, making him think of sex with Dean. Licking his lips, his heart banging against his chest, he started looking for him. There were so many people grinding together, touching, making Sam think of that first night when they'd been on the dance floor groping each other. He still couldn't believe he'd been like that, but he was also sure if Dean touched him, he'd react the same way.

After a while, he started to head for the bar, to ask the bartender, but the man's eyes drifted upwards. Standing nearly in the center of the dance floor, Sam looked up and saw the balcony. There was a wrought iron railing, and big couches, and a private party. Dean! His heart constricted seeing the guy who haunted not only his dreams but his daydreams as well.

Dean had an arm around a blonde and was speaking close to her ear, maybe kissing her. There were a couple of guys next to him, clearly trying to get his attention, and a couple dirty dancing nearby. Sam's eyes immediately went back to Dean, the smile he had wavering when the blonde kissed Dean and ran her hand over his chest.

He'd made a mistake. What had even made him think Dean would want him. He'd already had him so it had to be time to find new territory. No, he wasn't gonna analyze how crushed he was, how much he wanted to go into hiding and never come out. He took a single stagger-step back, then felt a jolt go through him as Dean's gaze met his, piercing through him. Like a deer trapped in headlights, he was powerless to walk away.

The last few days had been… difficult… for the demon.

A few phone calls and enough money had his apartment back into order within a day and a half despite all the damage Dean had done to it. The walls were repainted, the floors re-carpeted or re-tiled, new drapes, new furniture, new appliances, and new pieces of artwork pulled from the vast amounts he had in storage. Everything was neat and pristine, shining and new, orderly… the complete opposite of how Dean felt inside.

The days following the night he’d first seen Sam had been bad enough. When his desires for the beautiful boy had been all but insatiable and nothing could quiet the burning hunger he’d felt for the young man. He had managed to dampen that hunger somewhat, sooth the fires of his lust in the bodies of other mortals in various ways, at least enough to keep him… sane. So that on their next meeting Dean had not simply raped the boy and torn his body to shreds in the process.

Now? It was even worse because he had no desire to bed any other mortals, no matter how beautiful they might be. Kill them? Oh, he’d done plenty of that. Dean had collected on a few of his contracts himself rather than sending hellhounds to finish the job and it had been quite satisfying.

But once the screaming stopped and the blood started to dry on his fingers his thoughts would turn immediately back to Sam. A part of him wanted to go find the boy and punish him, to make him scream and beg, in pleasure, in pain, both... Maybe to prove to himself that Sam meant nothing to him. He was just another pathetic meat sack like all the rest of them…

But Dean knew that was a lie he could not even make himself believe as much as Sam had angered him. So Dean waited. His anger going from boiling rage to a low simmer over the next few days while he busied himself with ‘work’. But tonight he wanted something different. Tonight he wanted to play.

So he’d gone to Dante’s and while it was only a week day there were plenty of beautiful young mortals there willing to give him his every desire, obey his every command. He’d selected a handful, each one of them gorgeous, perfect examples of youth, and taken them to the private area for his pleasure. He’d ordered food and drink for them to enjoy. Danced with each in turn, or sometimes together, fondling them boldly beneath their clothes. He’d decided he would take them all back to a luxurious penthouse hotel room, let them fuck each other while he watched and pleasure him, then the fun could really begin…

Then… he felt something. Just like that night.

Dean turned his attention away from the young female groping him, completely ignoring her now because she wasn’t important. None of them were. Just like that night, somehow out of the entire crowd his eyes zeroed in on Sam. His eyes locking with the young man’s and the sparks were practically visible even across the room.

The girl, irritated at having lost his attention, started trying to regain it and Dean simply pushed her away without taking his eyes off of Sam. Dean started for the stairs that would take him down to the dance floor.

Sam was truly surprised when Dean pushed his girlfriend or whatever away and got up so quickly. He'd been sure that Dean had moved on. The guy hadn't lied to him. From the first day they'd met, he'd made it pretty clear he came here to let off steam, and sampled whoever he wanted.

He watched as Dean walked down the narrow spiral stairs, hardly breathing under the intensity of his gaze. His lips parted as Dean reached the dance floor and headed towards him with graceful, purposeful steps. Dean's face was unsmiling, maybe a little forbidding and predatory. It made Sam want to squirm or run, just like he had that morning. Why... why did he keep hoping that the next time he saw this man, he'd find that he'd lost whatever power he held over him? It was still there, pulling him toward Dean at the same time as his flight instincts kicked in.

Someone bumped into Sam and mumbled an apology he barely acknowledged. And then Dean was there, right in front of him in the flesh. Sam's pulse beat out of control. He wished he had a clue what Dean was thinking, what he wanted or expected. He licked his lip and spoke softly, unsure if he'd be heard above the sound of the music. "I didn't mean to..." He looked up, toward the balcony, then back at Dean. "You didn't have to leave your friends. I can..."

God. Just what was it about Dean? He was nervous as hell, but for the first time in days... focused. Focused on Dean and the way he made him feel. Alive. Excited. Scared, like he was about to fall of the edge of a cliff. And yet... he was sure Dean would catch him. But it was all just inside his head, Sam knew it. Dean could make him feel special, but it didn't make him special. No more special than the girls and guys he'd been with upstairs.

Sam’s eyes never left him as Dean slowly approached the young man. Dean liked the fact that the young man’s attention was so riveted on him and only him they might as well have been the only two people in the room, everyone else meaningless. Though the young man also had a decidedly nervous demeanor about him, the look in those eyes watching him almost scared, and Dean was still angry enough at Sam that he liked that as well.

Even though the demon was pleased that the young mortal had sought him out again.
There was no other reason for Sam to be here, after all. Even though this was where he’d first laid eyes on the beautiful young man this was not a place for Sam. Dean would have known that even if the young man hadn’t told him that many times already. But once more Sam was here, he’d come back to him, and this time the young man did not have the excuse of a lost wallet for his motives.

Still, Dean was not pleased at how Sam had left him that morning and the young man deserved to be punished. Just a little. A little torture would be good for the boy, in Dean’s opinion.

The demon arched an eyebrow slightly at the young man’s soft, almost stuttering, half apology.

“Didn’t mean to, what exactly? You can leave? Are you saying you didn’t come here looking for me then?” Dean asked, neither his face nor voice giving anything away.

Sam didn't know what he'd expected, but this wasn't it. Dean was good at putting him at ease and calming him down, but his coolness and questions had the exact opposite affect. His stomach clenched and churned as he searched Dean's face, trying to read behind those eyes that could make him hot with need... did make him hot with need. He ran his hand through his hair trying to find the words that seemed to stick in his throat.

"I was looking or you. I ah... went to your place and you weren't in," he nodded. "So I came the only other place I know that you might be." Dean would never know how hard it had been, how he angsted over the decision. If staying away hadn't literally been painful, if it hadn't interfered with his life so bad, Sam was pretty sure he'd never have come, never made himself go through this... this anxiety.

Still, Dean didn't say a thing to smooth over the awkwardness of the moment. It was like he was waiting for more, for answers to the rest of his questions when all Sam wanted at this moment was to feel Dean's strong arms close around him, and his low gravelly voice whisper that it would be okay. Was he angry that Sam had come looking for him? "I didn't mean to... to interrupt your party." And why should Dean choose him, inexperienced and awkward as he was, when he had the choice the people he'd been hanging with on the private balcony, none of them with hangups, all of them more like Dean than Sam would ever be.

"I just..." he blew a hot breath out and leaned in, one hand on Dean's shoulder as he spoke close to his ear, afraid to speak the words too loud. "I don't know what's happening to me. I can't stop thinking about you. I don't have anyone else to talk to about this, thought you might..."

He sounded fucking nuts, and he knew it. Pulling back, he swallowed. "It's not your problem. I'll leave. Sorry about... yeah about this," he whispered on a sob. Maybe he'd get one of those smokey drinks on the way out... something, anything to take his mind off Dean and to stop making a fool of himself.

Sam practically squirmed under his gaze, and there was more than just nervousness or awkwardness in the younger man’s eyes. There was pain. Real pain. The young man was obviously torn by his decision to come back here, looking for him. But Dean did nothing to alleviate the young man’s obvious discomfort.

After all, it was Sam’s fault. Sam had left him after all, and he deserved to be punished for it. Any pain the young man was in was of his own making. At the same time, the obvious misery on the young man’s face tugged at feelings inside of Dean that the demon honestly didn’t think existed inside of him anymore.

Pity, for one.

Dean wondered if it was because Sam was so like his Samuel. Dean would have done… had done… anything for his brother, he loved that boy so much. The last thing Dean ever wanted was to see his brother hurting much less be the cause of that hurt.

When the young man leaned in close to him Dean’s eyes slid closed. The young man’s voice was so low that Dean could barely hear the soft whisper over the throbbing pulse of the loud techno music, but at the same time it was all he could hear. It was the only thing that mattered anyway. Sam’s soft breath against his ear, the warm press of the hand on his shoulder, and that beautiful body mere inches from his own, so close he could feel the heat.

But then the young man was pulling away, and finally Dean moved, reaching out to grasp the young man’s arm in a firm but gentle grip, pulling Sam back to him. When his eyes slid open again, Sam’s soft hazel were about all he could see they were so close.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He whispered.

Despondent at the lack of reaction from Dean, Sam had been ready to walk away. His eyes widened when he was suddenly pulled so close to Dean that their mouths were only inches apart. His heart hammered against his chest so loudly that he barely heard Dean's whispered response. Though he wasn't sure what he wanted, what he needed from Dean, a sense of relief washed over him. Dean wasn't going to leave him to twist in the wind and to try to figure this thing out on his own. "Thanks, Dean," he whispered back, not sure whether to read more into Dean's words than he was willing to talk.

Slowly, Sam pulled away. "Can we..." he nodded toward the bar. "Maybe get a drink and talk, or get out of here, go somewhere quiet?"

Without answering him, Dean just pulled him toward the stairs. Sam looked up at the balcony, and wasn't sure that was a good place to talk. He didn't argue though, he followed Dean up the spiral metal stairs once Dean let go of him. As climbed, he had a birds eye view of the dance floor. The way some people were dancing together, grinding their bodies against each other made him flush with heat. That's how he and Dean had been on that night they'd met. He still had trouble believing he'd been like them, but he had to admit that Dean was like some sort of magnet he couldn't resist.

When they reached the top of the stairs, the blonde immediately came up to them and put both arms around Dean's shoulders. Sam stiffened, hearing her whisper to Dean.

"What took you so long, baby? I missed you," she said breathily, leaning in to kiss him with her perfect Barbie lips.

Sam looked away and tried to get a hold of the emotions raging inside him when one of the guys in the group came to him and placed a warm palm on his cheek and asked for a 'sample' of his party favors. Jerking away, Sam moved behind Dean, then eyed the stairs. This wasn't what he'd had in mind and every fiber in his body told him to run. The only thing that held him in place was his apparently traitorous body. It seemed he'd somehow worked his hand into Dean's waistband and was gripping his belt as if for protection. What the hell... Slowly, he forced himself to let go.

The sheer relief the demon could see in the young man’s eyes… confused him. Or maybe more correctly, the feelings it stirred inside of him was what confused him. Sam shouldn’t be relieved. The boy shouldn’t be thanking him. He should be running as fast as he could to the other side of the fucking planet, not that it would stop Dean from finding him, but still that’s what the boy should be doing.

Dean thought he could read people pretty well. It came with the territory after all, figuring out exactly what someone wanted and would be willing to trade their soul for. But with Sam, he honestly didn’t know what the boy wanted. Sam had run away from him once right here on the dance floor even though the boy obviously wanted him, wanted what Dean had offered. Then Sam had come back ‘for his wallet’ and eagerly took everything the demon had offered and begged for more, only to run from him again the next morning. Now he was back again… and Dean had no intention of letting the young man run away from him again no matter what Sam wanted.

Those were the demon’s thoughts as he steered Sam through the crowd of mortals back towards his private balcony. A drink… a talk… and more if Dean had anything to say in the matter. The demon was not one to deny himself, and oddly enough Dean had done so quite often for this boy, but not now. Sam should have stayed away. The young man had awoken something inside of him that night, and Dean hadn’t had nearly enough time to lock it away once more. He would have the boy again, and again, before this night was over.

Dean had almost forgotten about the other mortals he’d chosen earlier until one of the bitches came up to him and wrapped her arms around him once more. The taste of… jealousy… Dean could pick up from the young man behind him would have been satisfying if not for the sudden rage he felt when one of the other young men dared to touch Sam. Dared to touch what was his…

When Sam jerked away from the other man and moved behind him Dean was even more surprised by the feeling of… protectiveness… both familiar and foreign that washed through him. Ironic indeed since Dean knew all too well that Sam didn’t need protection from these mortals. It was Dean himself the boy truly needed protection from.

The demon pushed the woman away from him almost roughly and the dark glare he gave the young mortals he could tell sent chills down many of their spines.

“Get out. All of you.” He said darkly and even though his voice was pitched low he knew his message had been heard. They’d gotten off light in his opinion, since he would have loved to snap that boy’s wrist who’d dared to touch what belonged to him. As they rushed to obey him, leaving he and Sam now alone on the private balcony, Dean turned back to the young man and his expression softened.

“What would you like to drink? Hungry?” Dean asked as he motioned for the boy to sit on one of the plush couches. There was still plenty of food and drink left from his ‘party’ and if Sam wanted something else he could easily call up a waitress and order it.

Sam's face jerked up when Dean ordered his 'guests' to get out. Sure he was relieved, and more than glad that that woman was no longer hanging over Dean, but a part of him questioned the situation. Dean had been entertaining or been entertained by these people only a little while ago. Now he tossed them out like he hadn't invited them, or like they were yesterday's trash. That could be himself at some point. He knew that he better get that, understand it, or he might find himself more confused and fucked up than he already was. He kept telling himself that, like it was a mantra until Dean spoke with him again.

Right there. The way Dean looked at him, it made it hard for Sam to think... to believe Dean would get rid of him in the same way he had those other people. The rational part of his mind told him that those others probably thought that too, before it happened. But basking in the heat of that gaze, it was difficult to stay rational. It was like his braincells shorted out and all that was left was his heart and emotions. Not real smart... not smart at all.

"I've eaten," he answered, moving to the center couch and sitting down. He'd eaten a few bites, but his stomach was just too nervous to hold more and he didn't want to eat now. On the table next to the sofa, there were liquor bottles. Hard liquor, something he didn't want or need. That smokey drink he'd had here sounded good, but he didn't want to be any trouble. His gaze went to the ice bucket on the coffee table. "I'll try the champagne," he offered, leaning forward to fill up an empty flute glass. Seeing the label identified the champagne as Dom Perignon, he glanced at Dean, then poured a second glass. Yeah, he had no clue how much it cost, but everyone knew Dom Perignon was expensive.

He waited until Dean came over and sat down, then he wiped his palms on his thighs before reaching for his glass. Taking a few large swallows, he honestly couldn't see why it should be so expensive. He'd had champagne before, on various New Years and when his family had celebrations going. He'd never thought the stuff tasted great, and this wasn't an exception. Still, what he needed was to take the edge off, and this was as good a way as any. But he didn't intend to get stinking drunk... no way. He had to keep his head.

Licking his lips clean of the champagne, he looked over at Dean. "How... how've you been?" He'd already spilled about not having been doing too well himself, and yeah, he'd probably elaborate, but he he had to work himself up to it. "I ah... I didn't have your number." He looked down, unsure whether he would have had the courage to call.

Sam's face jerked up when Dean ordered his 'guests' to get out. Sure he was relieved, and more than glad that that woman was no longer hanging over Dean, but a part of him questioned the situation. Dean had been entertaining or been entertained by these people only a little while ago. Now he tossed them out like he hadn't invited them, or like they were yesterday's trash. That could be himself at some point. He knew that he better get that, understand it, or he might find himself more confused and fucked up than he already was. He kept telling himself that, like it was a mantra until Dean spoke with him again.

Right there. The way Dean looked at him, it made it hard for Sam to think... to believe Dean would get rid of him in the same way he had those other people. The rational part of his mind told him that those others probably thought that too, before it happened. But basking in the heat of that gaze, it was difficult to stay rational. It was like his braincells shorted out and all that was left was his heart and emotions. Not real smart... not smart at all.

"I've eaten," he answered, moving to the center couch and sitting down. He'd eaten a few bites, but his stomach was just too nervous to hold more and he didn't want to eat now. On the table next to the sofa, there were liquor bottles. Hard liquor, something he didn't want or need. That smokey drink he'd had here sounded good, but he didn't want to be any trouble. His gaze went to the ice bucket on the coffee table. "I'll try the champagne," he offered, leaning forward to fill up an empty flute glass. Seeing the label identified the champagne as Dom Perignon, he glanced at Dean, then poured a second glass. Yeah, he had no clue how much it cost, but everyone knew Dom Perignon was expensive.

He waited until Dean came over and sat down, then he wiped his palms on his thighs before reaching for his glass. Taking a few large swallows, he honestly couldn't see why it should be so expensive. He'd had champagne before, on various New Years and when his family had celebrations going. He'd never thought the stuff tasted great, and this wasn't an exception. Still, what he needed was to take the edge off, and this was as good a way as any. But he didn't intend to get stinking drunk... no way. He had to keep his head.

Licking his lips clean of the champagne, he looked over at Dean. "How... how've you been?" He'd already spilled about not having been doing too well himself, and yeah, he'd probably elaborate, but he he had to work himself up to it. "I ah... I didn't have your number." He looked down, unsure whether he would have had the courage to call.

Dean gave a simple nod, his eyes following the young mortal as Sam moved over to one of the couches and sat. The demon followed, sitting down close to the nervous looking young man but not so close as to be in his personal space. Dean lounged, half turned towards the young man, and his arm draped casually over the back of the couch. He could easily touch the other man’s shoulder or neck with his fingertips this way, but for now he didn’t. For now he was actually a little curious about what the young man had to say and didn’t want to distract him. Unless of course whatever Sam said was something the demon didn’t want to hear.

When Sam started by asking him how he’d been, Dean arched an eyebrow at the young man. He wondered if the boy was just making polite conversation, or if he really wanted to know? Dean supposed it didn’t matter, because the young man certainly wouldn’t want to hear the truth and the demon wasn’t really in the mood to come up with a lie either.

“I’ve been working.” He finally replied with a half shrug, deciding to give a half truth instead.

“You didn’t exactly give me the chance to give it to you.” Dean then stated the obvious. Reminding the young man it had been Sam who’d left that morning without a word.

Sam's head snapped up. Trying to read behind Dean's eyes tonight was impossible, but there was censure in his tone. "Yeah..." he ran his hand through his hair. "I didn't want to wake you. Early classes," he shrugged. Dean's gaze pierced through him, like he was waiting for the truth, the whole truth. He grimaced and gestured with his hand. "I panicked. I don't know why... I just... I woke up in someone else's room, a guy," his voice dropped. "And I just... I didn't know what I was doing there, Dean. I don't know what I'm doing here, now."

Letting out a breath, he took his glass and downed the champagne then refilled the glass. He turned back, his eyes downcast, afraid to look into Dean's eyes. "You probably think I'm a freak, I mean, we're so different. You... you know, every night, with someone else, those people who were here." The words tasted bitter as he forced them out, but he knew Dean was a player, the guy had told him that from the first night. "Me," he gave a small laugh. "I never even thought about a guy, any guy. And now you have me wondering if I'm gay and... I don't know. I don't know what this is, or even if I can do this."

He licked his lips and finally looked. "Or not do this. It's like I'm screwed either way." He felt his cheeks warm, and huffed. "Not literally." Or maybe, yeah. "Is this... is this too much to lay on you?" He really, really didn't know who else to talk to. Drew's ideas were usually limited to dating others or screwing others. But it didn't take care of how he was feeling inside. "I should shut up. I'm shutting up," he nodded, and had a little more of his drink.

Early classes… right… Dean wondered if he should be insulted, that the young man actually thought he was that much of an idiot to believe that. The disapproval and disbelief must have shown on his face because Sam quickly amended his story. Though the demon wasn’t any more pleased by the young man’s truthful answer.

Sam said he didn’t know why he’d ‘panicked’ but it was pretty obvious that the young man did. Considering he’d even said why. Because he’d woken up with a guy. Because he’d slept with a man. Because now Sam was afraid he was (gasp) gay.

Dean knew he shouldn’t be disappointed that the young man was obviously so closed minded, but he was. Samuel had always been open to new ideas, hell, his brother had thrived on them. Even though homosexuality was much more taboo than it was now, Dean was sure his brother would not have ‘freaked out’ so easily over the concept.

Of course Dean didn’t know for certain that this young man and his brother were one in the same. Even as similar as they were, even though he suspected… he wasn’t sure. He would need to find out for certain, find proof, soon, one way or another.

Then again, even his brother Samuel might have panicked more than a little at the idea of sleeping with his own brother. Could Sam’s ‘freaking out’ somehow be attributed to that, more than the fact he was a man? If Sam subconsciously knew him… possibly…

Dean sighed heavily, finally reaching for the second glass of champagne that Sam had poured, even though he had a feeling this conversation was going to make him wish for something harder. He took a drink from the glass before answering the young man.

“So, if I weren’t a man, you wouldn’t be freaking out, is that it?” Dean asked almost casually, though there was a slight reproach in his tone as well. He took another drink before continuing in a more neutral tone. “I never asked for a ring, Sam. When I said no strings attached, I meant it.”

Of course that was a lie, but Dean knew if he behaved too possessively right now it would only scare the young man more. He needed to sooth the spooked boy first, before he could begin making Sam his.

“But when I said I wanted you more than anyone that was true too. It still is. If you want there to be a ‘this’ then I’m willing to take it slow and see what happens.”

If Dean meant to make him feel foolish, his crack about never having asked for a ring from him was very effective. Sam was embarrassed, and maybe a little hurt, but he didn't look away. His fingers tightened around the delicate glass in his hand, knuckles whitening as he fought against the temptation of leaving. Of leaving and curling up in a ball in his own bed and just waiting for all this to go away, for the confusion to clear, for him to come to himself. "No," he whispered too softly, then cleared his throat. "No, honestly I don't think I'd feel different if you were a woman."

He licked his lips. "It's not..." He pressed one hand into the sofa, squeezing the cushion and releasing. "It's not the gay thing, other than I'd like to know if I am, or I'm not." He raised his hand, dismissing that notion with a hand gesture. "It's that I'm not acting like me. I don't sleep around and there I was, waking up at your place, my clothes dropped all over the floor. The fact that you're a guy just made it doubly unlike me." He took a deep breath, trying to explain himself. "I don't get obsessed by things, think about them for hours... I'm just not like that. But since I met you, I haven't been able to concentrate, to focus and I feel completely off balance." He gestured again. "And it's like there's something, a piece of the puzzle that's missing... and I don't even know what the fucking puzzle is."

God, he sounded crazy. Dean was going to tell him to leave, like he had to those other people. "Dreams, " he nodded. "You're in them, and don't bother asking what they are but in one of them..." He drank the rest of the champagne and got up, started to pace. "You're not supposed to be in that one, or you were in it all along and I just couldn't see you before, I don't know. It's a dream I've had since forever, I can't fucking shake it." He wiped his face. "But how is it possible, when I never saw you before?" He turned and looked at Dean, confirming those were the green eyes in his dream. Eyes that were filled with anguish and glistened with tears, but never looked away from him, never.

"I'm not drunk, and I'm not crazy, even if it sounds like it. I like you. A lot," he said, his voice slightly husky. "I had a good time here, at that restaurant and at your place. I don't know you but I feel... connected?" He gave a half shrug as he struggled to put his feelings into words. "So when I say I don't know if I can do this, it has nothing to do with you. It's me. I don't know if I can handle walking around feeling this. And you," he searched Dean's face. "How can you want this... me?" Sure the words had made his heart kick up a notch, but Sam had trouble believing them. "You have everything, could have anyone."

Dean listened as Sam tried to explain himself in silent. Merely watching silently as the young man got up and started to pace in agitation, trying to put to words things he’d never had to feel before. Desire, obsession, want, and need… things that the demon was all too familiar with, though he supposed they could be frightening to someone like Sam who’d never felt such base human emotions so strongly before.

He couldn’t deny that the obvious obsession the young man had with him pleased the demon greatly. Even knowing what obvious pain and confusion it was causing Sam, the fact that the beautiful boy wanted him so much, it was practically tearing him apart, was one hell of an aphrodisiac.

If he was anything but what he was, Dean might have felt pity for the young man. Instead, Dean wanted nothing more than to push Sam up against the wall and have him again, right now, begging for him.

Control… patience… Dean didn’t need to take anything from Sam, since it was obvious that the boy would give it to him willingly. As soon as he stopped fighting it, that was.

Dean couldn’t deny he was very curious about the dreams Sam mentioned, but he could save those questions for another time. Finally when Sam stopped and looked at him again, Dean stood up and approached the young man slowly. Trying to appear as non threatening as possible even as he crowded into the boy’s personal space. His hands coming up to rest gently on each side of the young man’s neck, his thumbs gently caressing Sam’s cheeks.

“Sam… I think you’re being a little hard on yourself and not completely honest either. How often have you forgotten to eat or sleep, your mind constantly occupied with the design of some new gadget you are building? How often have you studied obsessively, thinking of nothing else, but your next school exam? The difference is because you’ve told yourself that these obsessions are right, they are proper, and socially acceptable.”

Dean brushed his thumb and pressed gently against Sam’s lips to make sure the youn man remained silent and simply listened to him until he’d finished.

“Life is not static, Sam. Life is constant change. Wants change. Desires change. And now you’ve found something that you want and desire more. Me. That’s normal, Sam. People, they should mean more to you than trivial things like grades and gadgets. You say you don’t sleep around. Fine. Just because you slept with me, that doesn’t make you a whore. Were you planning on staying a virgin your entire life?”

Stepping a little closer to Sam, the front of their bodies almost touching, Dean let his hands slide down over the young man’s shoulders and down his back. His hands coming to rest at the base of Sam’s spine. He was close enough now he was sure that the young man could feel his every breath caress his lips.

“You like me. I like you. Why is that a bad thing? Stop questioning it, Sam. It’s not that you want me that’s causing you pain, Sam. It’s trying to deny to yourself that you want me. I could have anyone… but I want you.”

When Dean walked up to him, Sam's pulse predictably kicked up about ten notches. And Dean didn't stop a few feet away, no, he walked right on into his space, holding his face between his hands. The slow strokes of his thumbs along Sam's cheeks were a gesture of caring, but a part of Sam also understood he was being forced to look into Dean's eyes and that it was a controling move too.

The analogies Dean gave him made sense in some ways. Yeah, that was exactly how he was. If he was in the middle of a project, there were times when he hardly slept or stopped to eat. But that was different. Just when he was going to argue though that that emotions weren't tied into his projects, Dean pressed his lips, made them burn and crave for another type of contact, effectively shutting him up so Dean could have his say.

Yeah, he had found something he wanted too much. This man. Only he still wasn't sure how he wanted Dean, and why he couldn't shut his mind off, why he craved him in his waking and sleeping moments. Wasn't it too much? Too much desire? The too accurate description had him swallowing hard, then Dean's question about whether he'd intended to remain a virgin forever had him blushing.

Before he could take even another breath, he found himself enveloped by Dean's arms, their bodies touching, heat from Dean's body seeping right through his clothes. He was suddenly so fucking aware of Dean, of every hard line of his body, his scent, his nearness, he could barely think. That wasn't fair. And it wasn't fair that Dean's deep, slightly raspy voice wrapped around him like a full body caress and made Sam want to drop to his knees. Dean's words, his hot breaths teased Sam, had him hot and needy... aching, hurting for something only Dean could give him.

Shivering, he swayed closer to Dean, his burning mouth slip-sliding against Dean's. Why did he have to resist? Dean was right, there wasn't any real reason for it. Dean wanted him. Sam wanted to give himself to Dean, it shouldn't be as complicated as he was making it. Frustrated with himself, and with the days of agony he'd suffered, Sam repositioned his mouth over Dean's in a clearer message of what he wanted, needed right now. His eyes closed as he opened his mouth to Dean, sucking lightly in invitation, his fingers closing around Dean's forearms, holding tight in contrast to the gentleness of his mouth pressed against Dean's.

Dean could see the denial melting away in the young man’s eyes. The resistance, slight though it was, in Sam’s body faded as the boy relaxed into him and moved closer. The fight leaving the beautiful young man as their lips touched and victory had never tasted so sweet. As Sam gave into him, the young man’s lips warm and inviting against his own, Dean pressed his mouth more firmly against those soft lips. His own tongue flicking out to taste and tease as the demon pulled the boy’s body closer to his own and Dean started to move.

Much like that night they’d danced for the first time his body rubbed up against Sam’s and he could feel every line and curve of hard muscle beneath the young man’s clothes. His hands started to slide up and down the body he had memorized that night, caressing the boy’s back, ass, and hips. Pressing their groins closer together, letting Sam feel his dick starting to harden thanks to the stimulation.

His movements, even though they were slight, were not random, and soon Dean had pushed Sam up against one of the walls. Dean pressed his body firmly against the other man’s, practically pinning Sam to the wall with his body as his tongue delved deeper into the young man’s mouth. He kissed Sam hard and deep, pouring all of his passion into the contact.

He wanted Sam here, now, he did not want to wait to be alone or in privacy. Dean wanted to fuck the beautiful boy right here up against this wall, where anyone who bothered to look up could see them and watch as he made Sam his. Watch as he made Sam beg for more while he fucked him and either wish to have him or wish to be him, but they would have neither.

Sam willingly let Dean pull him closer, until their bodies fit together and there was no space between them. His skin burned everywhere he was connected with Dean, everywhere their bodies slid together as they swayed ... his chest, his hips, and legs. Dean's hands roamed over him, firm and possessive, spreading the fire and heat. He moaned softly as he was molded, his heart skipping as he felt Dean's arousal pressing insistently into his thigh.

He was dizzy, spinning out of control now that everything he'd been craving, needs he'd been fighting against for days, were suddenly met. Maybe it was the lack of hesitation on Dean's part, the full control he took over the situation, but Sam was swept along and powerless to resist. More. His body, his soul craved more of everything. Of Dean's kisses, of the things he was making him feel and desire, of the euphoric feelings that eclipsed everything... everything else.

Dean's mouth was wet and hot against his, aggressive, his tongue sliding in and out, taking over... taking Sam completely over. Sam gripped Dean's shoulders, moving with him, letting him do whatever he wanted until he found his back pressed against the wall and didn't even know how they got there. Trapped between Dean's body and the wall, Sam could only thrust his hips against Dean's, trying to get a little relief for his swollen cock straining painfully against his jeans.

A pained, needy groan broke from Sam. He moved his hands down Dean's body, desperate, clutching at his hips, his hard ass, trying to get impossibly closer. Fuck... he couldn't fathom how he could fell this much, want so much. When Dean roughly kicked his legs apart and stepped between them, Sam's entire body clenched hard. God, did Dean know how he was affecting him? How the rub of their jeans encased cocks was making him throb and driving him insane now? "Dean..." he whispered breathlessly before his mouth was taken again in a deep kiss.

The things Dean was doing to him had him so fucking aroused, tremors raced through Sam's body. He was in heaven, in hell, he didn't really know or care. He felt the press of Dean's warm palm under his shirt, over his stomach, and jerked against him. His mouth broke away from Dean's, slipping over Dean's ear. Between hot breaths gusting from between his lips, Sam whispered, "need you. Need to get out of here." The sexual charge between them was too strong, if Dean didn't break this off now and help him return to his senses, Sam didn't know what would happen.

It was pretty clear that Sam was just as desperate, maybe even more so, as the demon was for Dean to fuck him again. The way the young man clutched at him. The way Sam begged him with his moans and every move of his body. Dean knew it even before Sam’s whispered words, barely discernable over the loud thumping of the techno music.

Though when Sam said they needed to get out of here, Dean merely grinned, and he was sure the young man felt it their lips were so close. Instead of answering Sam however, Dean merely kissed the boy again hard. Not letting either of them up for air until they were both panting. When he finally did he leaned in even closer to the young man if it was possible, pressing Sam harder up against the wall, his breath warm and tickling over the boy’s ear as he whispered.

“Turn around.”

Dean didn’t even really give the young man the time to obey him, or even think about what the command meant, before he was guiding Sam around. Pulling back just enough to allow him to move the young man and then press his body up against Sam’s now from behind. Dean rubbed his hard cock against the curve of the young man’s ass as his hands slid everywhere he could reach over Sam’s body. He touched the young man from his shoulders and back to his thighs, then around to his front, sliding up underneath Sam’s shirt to caress his chest.

He pinched Sam’s nipples while he sucked on the young man’s neck for a while, loving every groan and moan of pleasure he pulled from Sam’s kiss swollen lips. Then his hands worked their way back down, one of them cupping and caressing the young man’s cock through his jeans while his other hand went about unbuttoning them.

The wicked grin was no answer to Sam's request that they get out of there, and Sam was pretty sure that the kiss wasn't either. Once Dean's mouth worked over his, Sam was swept away in the moment. Pressed back against the wall, he felt every contour of Dean's hard body, imagined him naked and in bed and wanted so badly to be writhing under him when relief would be possible. By the time Dean broke the kiss, Sam was completely breathless, moaning softly as Dean ground his hips closer. As he felt Dean's mouth move over his ear and felt his hot breaths fanning against his skin, his eyes closed. Arching restlessly against him, he almost choked at the unexpected command.

As if in slow motion, Sam found himself turned around and facing the wall. He never had a chance to put his thoughts in order, not with the way Dean was grinding his hard cock against his ass and making him hot with memories of Dean breaching him, filling him, fucking him within an inch of his life. He felt Dean's hands slip under his shirt and they were everywhere, sweeping up and down his stomach and chest, leaving trails of fire in their wake. "Deeeean," he breathed, his hands flat on the wall, his head hanging down as he reminded himself to breathe.

The sudden pinching of his nipples had Sam jerking back, his neck pressing more firmly against Dean's wet lips and his ass grinding against Dean's cock. "Oh God... what are you doing to me?" he asked, moaning loader as Dean's hand moved down and stroked his jeans encased cock. His cock thickened and strained against his jeans. Sam couldn't help thrusting against Dean's hand, his movements desperate and needy, pleas falling from his lips, needing to be touched under the rough material of his pants.

So good, so fucking good, Sam moved back and forth like he was a toy in Dean's hands. He barely noticed his zipper being pulled down, but once Dean's hand touched his bare flesh and closed around his dripping cock, Sam gave a sound of relief. "Yeah... yeah, jerk me off," he practically demanded, leaning back against Dean, fucking his fist as hard as he could, needing release so bad, he couldn't think any farther than that.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.” Dean whispered in reply to the boy’s desperate command, smiling as Sam fucked into his fist and the demon gave the young man exactly what he wanted. Stroking Sam’s thick dripping cock with long steady movements, his other hand moving down to grip the boy’s hip tightly to control his almost frantic movements. He didn’t want Sam to bring himself off too soon, of course. Sam was not going to come before Dean was ready for him to come.

He wanted the boy in that place where he was beyond thought. Beyond anything rational where he was only listening to the needs of his body. And since Dean had complete control over Sam’s body, the beautiful boy would willingly obey anything that the demon commanded of him.

Dean continued to rub his hard cock against the young man’s firm ass as his fingers rubbed over the leaking head of Sam’s dick. Gathering the fluids dripping from the tip and slicking his fingers generously. Then, hardening himself to Sam’s protests, he released the young man’s needy cock and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans, pushing them down to reveal that beautiful ass.

Groaning hungrily, Dean licked his lips as he watched his fingers slide down the cleft of that perfect ass, searching for the tight hot hole that belonged to him. Taking Sam’s cock back in hand he started to stroke the boy’s cock again as his fingers wasted no time breaching that tight ring of flesh. Two slick fingers pushing their way deep into the young man’s body, fucking in an out and scissoring slowly. Making Sam ready for him.

After preparing the boy only enough that he was sure that he wouldn’t tear the young man, Dean removed his fingers and then released his cock from the confines of his jeans. He was so hard it was almost painful as he slicked himself up with what remained of Sam’s precome on his fingers and his own leaking fluids. Kicking Sam’s legs apart a little wider, Dean pressed the head of his cock against the young man’s hole and giving the boy no chance to protest, started to push his way inside.

Sam needed to come so bad. He could have too, if Dean weren't holding him so tight, preventing him from thrusting harder into Dean's fist and getting the pressure he needed. Though he was whispering reassuring words, it wasn't helping the building desperation with which Sam needed to come. "Please... please Dean, please," he begged, trying to break Dean's iron grip on his hip.

The shock of the sudden loss of Dean's hand around his cock had Sam complaining loudly. Was Dean playing with him? Didn't he get how badly he'd needed him for days? How badly he needed release like now?

Suddenly, he felt his jeans get tugged down and the cool air hitting his bare ass. "Dean!" Half panicked at the view he was giving, and half panicked that he wasn't going to get the release he craved, he tried to collect his thoughts, first he needed to pull up his pants, then run to the bathroom and--

His heart lurched when he felt Dean's fingers move between his ass cheeks. He didn't mean to... not here. "Dean?" he asked, rooted to the spot, needing his lover's touch but so very afraid of what was coming. He gave a soft cry when Dean's fingers invaded him. He wanted to say 'no,' but now that Dean was stroking his cock again, he found he'd been robbed of all will. Leaning his forehead against the cool wall, he concentrated on fucking Dean's fist, on getting what he needed, getting there fast.

He was almost shocked when Dean kicked his legs apart. Then he felt his thick blunt tip at his entrance and despite the way his cock twitched, he whispered "no... no Dean." Dean wasn't listening, or he hadn't heard him over the music, but he was relentlessly pushing inside him.

Sam's fingers curled up and pressed against the wall. He whimpered, "hurts, Dean..." Tears stung his eyes as he realized unlike their first time, Dean wasn't gonna stop, wasn't gonna let him get used to it. He tried to resent him for it, to be angry, but too soon he found himself bucking into that fist stroking him just right. He groaned when Dean's hips finally pressed against his ass and he was fully inside him.

He was stretched so far, so full with Dean's cock inside him, so vulnerable with everyone seeing what they were doing. There was pain, and there was pleasure, and Sam didn't know if that was normal, if he was normal. Why wasn't he pushing Dean away? Why was there this need inside him, to please Dean? Christ, he hadn't known Dean for so long, what the hell kind of power did the man have over him?

Before he knew it, Sam was thrusting his hips again, and pushing back against Dean's cock, moving with him, following the rhythm Dean set. There were tears on his cheeks, and he didn't know whether he was crying from the pleasure, from pain, from humiliation? He just couldn't understand any of this, and yet he was participating. Yeah it was his moans that where echoed by Dean's. His breathless gasps followed by deep exhales. His 'noes,' followed by 'please... please... please Dean.' His body wasn't his anymore, it was taken over by these powerful needs. "Harder," he pleaded, fucking into Dean's hand, fucking back against him, clenching around Dean's cock each time Dean angled his cock just right, hit that spot that sent Sam spiraling closer to release.

His body overheated, quivered. His breaths panted out. Suddenly, he was on fire. Turning his head, he reached back, one hand behind Dean's head, he dragged him close, begging for a kiss, that's what he needed... that's what was missing, what had kept him completely calm that night.

Dean had heard the whispered refusal, but he’d ignored it. Sam’s lips might have been saying ‘no’ but the young man’s body was screaming yes. So he didn’t stop forcing his cock into the boy’s tight clinging hole, even when he heard the soft whimpers of pain that Sam made. Only going slow enough that he knew he wouldn’t tear and injure the young man. He knew the boy would adjust to his size soon enough, after all, and even with the pain Sam didn’t refuse him. Not really.

The demon groaned in pleasure against the back of Sam’s neck when he was fully inside the beautiful young man. Sam’s body was gripping his cock like a vice, and felt so fucking good. Perhaps even better than that first night, tighter because Dean had barely prepared him, or maybe it was knowing just how much Sam wanted this. The boy accepting the pain and humiliation without complaint as Dean began to fuck him for everyone to watch.

Even though he could see the flush of humiliation that stained the boy’s cheeks, Sam didn’t stop him. The boy’s whispered no’s barely audible, though his moans of pleasure and the way Sam began to move with him very clear. Dean began to jerk the boy off again in counter point to the way his cock slid in and out of his ass, and when he heard the softly whispered ‘harder’ the demon smiled and gave the boy exactly what he wanted.

His cock moving like a piston in and out of the young man’s ass, the slap of his hips against Sam’s bare ass almost audible over the music, as he fucked the beautiful young man harder. As a reward, angling his hips a little more to make sure he hit Sam’s prostate with every deep penetrating thrust.

When Dean felt the young man’s fingers in his hair, he groaned and lifted his head, allowing Sam to bring their mouths together he moaned his pleasure into the boy’s mouth as they kissed. Almost a complete contrast to their dirty fucking, he kissed Sam slowly and lovingly. Their tongues twining together in the young man's mouth.

Sam's ragged breaths were taken in fits and starts as they kissed. He moaned into Dean's mouth, his tongue clinging to Dean's, sliding against it, caressing it. It was the strangest feeling, like he was being made love to or wooed, like this was all for him, like he wasn't being fucked within an inch of his life at the same time.

It was confusing. It was intoxicating... addicting, and Sam didn't want it to stop. He moved back and forth, taking Dean's cock deeper, knowing tomorrow might be a bitch but not caring. Right here, right now was all that mattered. He'd missed him. Maybe he hadn't known him long, but he'd definitely missed him, seeing his handsome face and that sometimes crooked smile. Basking in the feelings he generated. The way he made him feel, so alive and full of questions.

He didn't know how Dean did it, kept him on the very edge, had him needing to come, needing it so bad but striving for it, reaching for it. "Please... Dean oh God, please," he started to thrash, and pulled away from Dean's mouth. "Need." Groaning, he turned to the wall and bent down lower, instinctively knowing the invitation would get him there faster.

Lower lip gripped between his teeth, he had his hands against the wall, preventing his head from slamming into it as Dean fucked him harder, making him spiral out of control. He clenched his muscles around Dean's cock inside him, encouraging Dean to get there with him, and then his orgasm slammed into him so hard, Sam almost lost his balance. The force of his release sprayed his cum over Dean's hand and splattered the wall, and still he was moving, still he rodewave after wave of pleasure.

Sam kissed him like he was a drowning man and the demon was offering him his last breath, and Dean couldn’t deny how much that turned him on. He groaned his pleasure and approval into the young man’s mouth, letting the young man know exactly how he was affecting him. How much he was loving every slide of his cock deep into that beautiful tight body, how tightly the boy’s body gripped him. How much he loved the feel of Sam’s cock so hard and dripping as he pushed the young man closer and closer to ecstasy but not letting him find release.

Not yet...

But he would give the beautiful boy everything he wanted, everything he needed, even if San never would have asked for it had he not already been so far gone in lust. All he needed to do was ask... and the demon would give him anything...

When Sam broke their kiss almost too soon, leaving them both panting, and the young man bent over even further the spike of lust that went through the demon at the sight took his breath away. He did not deny the boy’s obvious invitation, thrusting harder and deeper into the tight willing body, stroking Sam’s dick faster. Not long now, for either of them.

All too soon he felt the young man’s body practically convulse in pleasure as Sam’s orgasm ripped through him, and the demon had to practically hold the boy up while he continued to fuck that gorgeous body. Sam’s body clenching around him so tightly through his pleasure making the demon moan loudly, and he held back his own pleasure until the young man was nearly spent before he finally allowed himself to come with one final deep thrust. Wrapping his arms around the young man’s waist and burying his face against Sam’s sweat dampened neck as his cock pulsed over and over, filling the beautiful boy up with his seed.

"Mmm, Dean," Sam whispered leaning back against Dean, glad he was being held so tightly because he wasn't sure he could stand on his own. Instinct, or something, had him clenching and releasing around Dean's cock, milking him of the warm liquid filling him on the inside.

As they stayed like that for a few moments, Sam realized that all the tension, that wound up and standing on the edge feelings he'd been carrying around for days was gone. In its place was peace, and warmth, and Dean's scent, his wet lips on his neck. Even if they'd had dirty sex, in public, it felt like anything but that. It made Sam feel complete, and sane, and whole.

He felt Dean pull out of him and some liquid slid down his thigh. Feeling shaky and unsure what to do, he was glad Dean turned him around and kissed him, his tongue sweeping inside Sam's mouth. It was so gentle, so sweet, like he was being reassured. Wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders, Sam kissed him back with everything he had, practically forcing Dean to extend the kiss until they both needed to breath.

A sound of protest escaped Sam's lips as Dean pulled away. He didn't know where Dean got the towel, but he was pulled away from the wall and Dean started to clean him up. He felt his cheeks burn, his lips parting as he let out a breath. Probably he should have been cleaning himself up and maybe if his mind hadn't been so fuzzy, he would have. Dean dropped down rubbed the towel up the insides off his legs, glancing up once.

It was like a tug on his soul, like the one he often felt when Dean first walked into a room, only different. This time it was as if he was tugged across the universe, into a dream. He was in bed, he knew that by the softness of the mattress under him. And Dean was bent over him. He was different, not as close shaven, and didn't smell exactly right. He was darker, like he'd been in the sun for long hours. His eyes were full of concern. It all changed when Sam pushed up and kissed him. Horror and disbelief was etched in Dean's expression, so strong, it made Sam's stomach lurch as shame washed over him.

Blinking, he brushed Dean's hands away from his zipper and did his jeans up himself. His heart was pounding, his hands shaking a little. But when he looked up, it was into cool jade green eyes. His Dean's. "I should have... myself," he mumbled, calm again. "Thanks." Leaning in, he brushed his mouth over Dean's lips and pulled back to look into his face. No disgust there, and no guilt for Sam. "No one was watching, right?" Lips quirking into a smile, he urged Dean to lie to him.

Dean couldn’t imagine heaven itself offering the bliss he felt at this moment. In fact, he knew it couldn’t. Never mind the fact that they were both men and the righteous winged bastards would frown on that alone. If Sam was Samuel... Dean had just fucked his baby brother for the second time. Such a dirty little word. Incest. This kind of pleasure had no place in heaven because it was born of sweet blissful sin. That was one of the reasons the demon loved Earth so much. Heaven, in his opinion, was highly overrated.

The demon nuzzled soft, barely there, kisses against the young man’s neck. Enjoying the feeling of Sam’s inner muscles milking him dry and his cock softening slowly inside of him. Only then did Dean gently pull out and ease Sam around to face him. He kissed the young man with infinite tenderness, smiling faintly as Sam held onto him so tightly, kissing him back almost desperately. As though they were the only two people in the world.

Dean suddenly felt quite jealous and possessive. The people downstairs who might have noticed what they’d been up to had gotten a spectacular show just now but this... this was for him alone. When the demon drew back, summoning a towel to him quickly and began to clean the young man gently, he made sure to keep himself between Sam and any who might be watching. Not really caring how he himself was still exposed as he started tugging the young man’s jeans back in place, but letting Sam do himself up as he wished. Dean cleaned himself off quickly and tucked himself away, buttoning up his own jeans as well.

The demon shook his head slightly when Sam muttered he should have cleaned himself off, but smiled when the young man leaned in for another quick kiss. Sam’s question certainly wasn’t a surprise, and Dean already had the lie ready on his tongue.

“I doubt anyone noticed.” He said reassuringly, though his tone certainly implied he didn’t care if anyone did. His arms slipped easily back around the young man’s waist, pulling Sam to him. “Feeling better, I hope? You’re not going to run away again, are you?”

"Uh uh," putting his arms around Dean's shoulders, he leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Never gonna run away. Promise." His lips curved into a smile as he pulled back and looked into Dean's eyes. "Yeah feeling better, Doctor Dean. Do you make house calls? I'd call you between every class for starters." He felt Dean swaying and only then realized they were dancing. It would always make him remember that first night, his birthday. Running his fingers through the short hair at the nape of Dean's neck, he wondered if maybe Dean had been his birthday present. Yeah, that's how he was going to think of it.

He rested his chin on Dean's shoulder, very aware that they weren't moving to the beat of the music, they were just swaying. Who knew sex could be so taxing? He felt like he'd gone on a very long run. Turning his face, he kissed Dean's throat. Then he sucked a little bit of Dean's skin into his mouth. A tiny little mark wouldn't be a bad thing to leave on him, so he'd remember this tomorrow. It was only fair since Dean had left his own mark, Sam could almost still feel him inside his body.

"Let's get a drink," he eventually said, pulling away from Dean. "I'm thirsty."

They sat close together on the couch and had a few drinks. Sam told Dean a little about school, and was very excited to report he was almost done with repairing and fixing up a motorcycle. "I picked it because it was a wreck. Everyone thought it was only good for scrap metal but I like fixing things, I kind of see what something could be like with a few changes here and there, you know? It's going to be one hot ride when I'm done, as hot as your Impala." He was sure that Dean would disagree with him there, and that had him smiling. He might not be good at a lot of things, but one thing he was good at was surprising people with the things he made.

He leaned forward and reached for his drink on the coffee table when a woman came up the stairs. She had a dark mane of hair, teased kind of wild, a tight red dress that clung to her curves and dangerously high heels. Attractive was an understatement, until she opened her mouth.

"Well now, aren't you just precious. Dean, where do you find your toys?" she asked, throwing her hair back as she met Dean's gaze. "He's not your usual type," she said strutting closer and lifting Sam's face with one finger. "But I approve."

Feeling her nail bite into his chin, Sam pulled away and gave her a look. "Don't. Please," he added as an afterthought, giving a questioning look to Dean. Who the hell was she?

"Have you told Dean your deepest wish? What would it be, I wonder. Riches? Fame? Dean?" She asked with a smile.

He didn't like her, but not wanting to be impolite to Dean's friends, he answered. "Actually, I --"

Dean couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips as a kind of… peace… settled over him. He wasn’t sure if it was the after sex glow, the warmth of the young man in his arms, or the whispered promise in his ear that caused it but it was nice. For once he decided not to analyze the feeling and simply enjoy it. Chuckling softly at the ‘Doctor Dean’ comment and holding the beautiful boy close to him, swaying to a music all their own in a slow peaceful dance. The rest of the world could go to hell as far as Dean was concerned.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Dancing slowly, enjoying soft touches and kisses, until finally Sam requested a drink. Dean nodded slightly, not about to deny Sam anything right now, then led the young man back over to the couches. He summoned a waitress that quickly came and took their orders, bringing their drinks up to them in minutes. Feeling generous, Dean gave her a healthy tip before sending her away again, wanting to be completely alone with the young man next to him.

The content smile never left his face as he listened to Sam speak. Most of the time when talking with mortals, Dean’s interest was only feigned, but with Sam he was genuinely curious about the young man’s life and interests. He listened intently, but also asked questions and prompted the young man for more details here and there during the conversation. Maybe he simply enjoyed hearing Sam’s voice, especially when he was excited about something. He sounded so much like Samuel…

That was when he felt it… the dark ripple announcing the presence of another demon close by and it was only with the greatest effort that Dean kept himself from suddenly frowning. There were not many demons that would dare come here. These were his hunting grounds after all, and it was a well known fact that Dean didn’t enjoy the companionship of other demons not to mention the competition. As the competition quickly, and permanently, found out.

Dean turned an icy glare to the demon bitch when she sauntered up to them, a glare that took on a decidedly dangerous edge when she dared to touch Sam and address him.

“Carmilla!” Dean said sharply, interrupting whatever the young man was about to say. His expression softened however, when he looked at Sam not wanting to alarm the boy as he reached into his pocket and took out his valet ticket and handed it to him.

“Sam. Will you have them bring the car up? I’ll be down in a minute.” Dean said, giving the boy a slight reassuring smile before he turned his eyes back to Carmilla and his expression hardened.

Sam's face snapped toward Dean when he cut off his answer. Seeing Dean's anger was directed at the woman, he relaxed a little and accepted the ticket. Making his way around the woman, Sam walked slowly, his head turning to look back and not at all happy to leave Dean with that curvy bombshell. Putting one hand on the rail, he watched for as long as he could, more than aware that neither of the pair were saying a damned thing.

As soon as she felt the younger boy was out of sight, Carmilla gave a trill of laughter which she was sure would reach his ears. "Hello darling, tell me how much you've missed me," she said, running her hand down the side of Dean's neck and resting it on his shoulder. "Oh, don't be such a sour puss, you know he'll work ten times harder to please you now that he's seen me," she practically purred. "In fact, why don't the two of us put on a nice show for him. And if your pet is very good, I'll let him join us. I bet he bleeds pretty," she sucked the tip of her finger.

Dean was glad that Sam hadn’t questioned his abrupt dismissal and simply obeyed him. Though the young man certainly took his sweet time leaving. He knew he would have to explain to Sam later what this was all about, but he’d worry about that later. Right now he only cared about getting Sam away from Carmilla as quickly as possible. Dean’s glare did not waver, his eyes locked with Carmilla’s in an almost test of wills. He almost expected her to say something else before Sam had disappeared, but wisely she didn’t. She knew him too well by now.

Finally Sam was gone, though probably not completely out of earshot, at least there was no way he’d hear the details of their discussion over the loud music of the club. Dean didn’t relax however. In fact he only tensed more as Carmilla laughed and touched him, and he didn’t hesitate slapping her hand away from him with a scowl. She had no right to touch him anymore. His contract was over.

Dean remembered the first time he had seen the demon bitch, four hundred years ago. She’d been wearing a different meat suit then, of course, but she’d still been beautiful. Carmilla had always been quite picky about the physical form she possessed. She had come to him in his jail cell. He’d been arrested soon after his brother’s execution because he had tried to stop it and caused a ‘scene’. It had taken six men to hold him back while he watched his brother burn to death, but in the end he had slumped to the ground and they’d had to drag him away to jail. He hadn’t eaten or slept in a week when she’d finally come to him, offering him the deal. His soul in exchange for teaching him what he’d need to take revenge on those who’d murdered his brother, Samuel. It had been the easiest choice Dean had ever made.

Despite the fact that she had ‘helped’ him all those years ago, Dean certainly did not feel indebted to the demon bitch. Time passed more slowly in hell, and he’d spent thousands of years enduring her torment. He had grown into a powerful demon however, despite his relative ‘youth’, and his power at least matched hers. As he’d always made it clear he did not desire her company, it meant she could only be here on business... or to fuck with him. If she dared to lay a finger on Sam...

“My new ‘pet’ is none of your concern. Keep your fucking claws off him.” Dean all but growled, his eyes flashing black dangerously. “What do you want, Carmilla.”

"Tsk tsk, why all the impatience? Surely its not over that boy, you just fucked him. I have to tell you, I'll be keeping that image in my heart for a long, long time." Smirking, she gave him a little space. "I came to check on you. I know, you didn't think I cared," she said, waving her hand.

"There were reports that you've been extra... how shall I put it? Zealous in dispatching humans to their death lately, but I haven't seen an equivalent rise in the number of contracts you've obtained. That boy, what did you say his name is?" Her eyes flashed with malevolence. "He was about to make a wish. You ruined it... you owe me an extra one, or... I could go down and talk to him now."

Anticipating a little violence, she disappeared and reappeared a bit farther. "Don't tell me you really are that interested in him. Haven't I taught you better? You care for anything in this world and it turns into your Achilles heel. Take my advice. If you're just enjoying him, enjoy him to death. If it's more, then take his soul. He'll come back to you. Maybe."

Backing up to the stairs, she blocked Dean's way. "How about a dance lover, one for old times."

* * *

The Impala had been brought and parked up against the curb. Sam paced restlessly, looking at the entrance to the club and wondering how angry Dean would be with him if he walked inside to go get him. Maybe he'd wanted a few moments with that woman. Maybe he'd wanted to... If she was his ex or... He ran his hand through his hair as he thought of all the other guys and girls that had been hanging onto Dean before he'd gotten there. Maybe Carmilla had been invited to that party too.

His stomach twisted. For some reason, he saw her as a bigger threat than all the others. Of course, before he saw her, he'd wondered how far down the line he was on Dean's list of fun dates. Dates? Fucks? He didn't even know. He didn't even know what Dean was to him, just that he was important. That he needed him, as sappy and stupid as that sounded, he needed him if he wasn't going to go around the bend.

“I know you don’t care.” Dean snapped. Giving Carmilla a glare that would have had grown men pissing in their pants, though he knew it had little effect on her.

She had long grown used to his ‘rudeness’ as she called it. Though she hadn’t quite gotten the hint yet and learned to leave him be. He knew she did it on purpose, his anger amused her far too much. If he behaved indifferently she probably would not have half as much interest in him as she did. Hell, who was he kidding? She would always have an interest in him whether he liked it or not. She’d always said he was one of her ‘favorites’.

He did not like that she had seen him with Sam, for more than one reason. For one, he didn’t like that he had been apparently so distracted by Sam that he hadn’t noticed her presence long before now. Unfortunately she was right. Dean had stepped on quite a few toes in his rise to power. Demons had long memories and it was certainly in their nature to hold a grudge.

There were plenty that would see Sam as a weakness and exploit it. Carmilla was one of them. The only reason why Dean had gotten as far as he had was because he hadn’t had any weaknesses…

Dean’s eyes narrowed and the growl that left his lips certainly wasn’t human when she pointed out that he now owed her a soul for letting Sam ‘get away’. He could point out that he contracted more than his share of souls, he was one of the best, but instead he bit his tongue. If he argued he risked her turning her attention back towards Sam and if one ‘extra’ soul would make her forget about the boy it was a small price to pay.

It was a little satisfying at least that she’d made sure to stay out of ‘arms reach’ when she made her demand.

“We’re done.” He said with finality, turning towards the stairs but was forced to stop when she blocked his path. Dean was very tempted to shove her down the stairs, but since they were still in the presence of an audience appearances must be maintained.

“Don’t come here again.” He said, making his answer quite clear with a well aimed mental push that would only look like he was shoving her out of his way. With that, he made his way quickly down the stairs and outside to where Sam was waiting for him. Thankfully the Impala was ready and waiting as well.

“Get in.” Dean told the young man as he made his way around to the driver’s side and got in. He didn’t even tip the valet attendant.

Sam blinked at the sharp order. He started for the passenger seat, then stopped and pulled his wallet out. The hopeful look on the valet's face, as he fished his money out, was hard to miss. So was the cool stare of disbelief when he gave the guy two bucks. "I'm... ah..." without looking at the door handle, Sam pulled it open and got it.

The instant he had the door closed, Dean gunned the car and they took off. He stole a glance at Dean and noticed how hard his expression was, like he was furious. Running his hands up and down his jean clad thighs, he looked out the window. Immediately, he realized they were going to Dean's place, which was very close.

He cleared his throat. "I... If I'm sleeping over," and he wasn't sure now about anything. "I need to get some stuff, unless I'm not, then it's okay." Licking his lips, he looked over at Dean nervously. "I mean okay either way."

Dean glanced over at Sam sitting in the passenger side of the car as though he just remembered that he was there. Which wasn’t true of course. He just hadn’t been thinking how his demeanor must be affecting the young man. It was obvious by Sam’s tone that he was boy nervous, however, so Dean forced his expression to soften and to stop trying to strangle the steering wheel.

“Sorry.” Dean apologized softly, giving the young man a slight reassuring smile. “I didn’t know she was going to show up tonight. We don’t exactly get along.”

He hoped the young man would take the explanation as is and leave it alone. Though if Sam was anything like Samuel, Dean knew he probably wouldn’t get off that easily, even if Sam did let it go tonight.

“I would like it if you stayed.” Dean replied sincerely. For a moment considering just going straight home, he certainly already owned everything the boy might need to take care of personal hygiene. But if it would make Sam feel more relaxed in his home having his own things... Thinking for a moment Dean drove past his building to a 24 hour drug store parking lot. He gave the young man a grin as he shut off the engine.

“Get anything you want. I mean anything.”

There was a story there, and ' we don't exactly get along' didn't really tell it. For now, Sam accepted the apology and probably would have, no matter what it had been. It wasn't as if Dean had known he'd show up tonight anyway. But there was history with that woman, Carmilla. She made Sam feel insignificant next to her and if she went for Dean, the way she seemed to be, Sam had the feeling he'd lose hands down.

He was real glad Dean answered him quickly about where he wanted him to stay. He'd felt awkward asking the question to begin with but he'd needed to know so that he could get his things if necessary.

When they pulled up at the drugstore, Sam looked over at Dean. He couldn't help giving an answering smile, but he shook his head. "Dean, I need my lap top and books. I need to turn something in by noon. I could leave early in the morning," he offered, but had a feeling Dean wasn't an early riser and that he wouldn't want him slipping out early again. "Or you could come see my room, you know, in case you do decide to make house calls," he grinned. "Housing is about fifteen minutes from here, we'll hurry."

Dean raised an eyebrow at the young man when Sam clarified what he needed. Toiletries Dean could actually understand, in a way, and it wouldn’t be a bad thing for Sam to have his own toothbrush among other things to use when he slept over. Which would be often, if Dean had anything to say about it. But books and laptop?

“You’re planning on coming over to my apartment to do homework?” Dean asked, a note of disbelief coloring his words for a moment, before he couldn’t help but laugh. He gave Sam a teasing grin even as he pulled back out of the parking space and started to drive towards the college campus.

“Well, not quite the activity I had in mind, but if you can still think afterwards...” He gave the young man a playful wink and grinned.

Actually, Dean didn’t plan on letting the boy get any rest tonight, much less have time to finish his homework. But since he didn’t want Sam to get it into his head that he had to leave early in the morning again, and if it would make Sam feel better to have them, it wasn’t any trouble. Besides, he wanted to see where Sam lived. He was sure he could convince the young man to play hookie from school tomorrow with little trouble.

Besides the fact that Dean wanted to make up for several days lost when Sam had run away from him, he didn’t want to leave the boy alone when Carmilla was obviously sniffing around. Maybe while Sam was gathering his things Dean could discretely put up some wards that would alert him if any other demons came within miles of the young man.

He would need to put his mark on the boy soon. A clear sign to any demon to keep their hands off his property or pay the price. Unfortunately that would have to wait until he fully gained Sam’s trust. He could not reveal his true nature to the boy too soon. Dean did not want Sam to fear him.

The look Dean threw him had Sam laughing. He shook his head, "You'd be surprised how good I am at multi-tasking." As they headed for UCLA, he stole a glance at Dean. The guy probably did not get that Sam liked school, that he actually did study quite a lot. Carmilla's words came back to haunt him. He wasn't Dean's 'usual' type. Yeah, he'd bet his ass he wasn't, he thought, unable to imagine any of his other 'friends' cracking the books.

When Dean looked over at him, he gave the guy a smile. He might not be the type Dean usually hung with, but he was
hanging with him now. Maybe he needed a change, the same way Sam guessed he'd needed a change. It wasn't like Dean was exactly the sort of guy he socialized with either. Maybe that's what made it exciting.

As the approached the school, he gave directions to the housing and they parked near the building. He had expected Dean to say he'd wait in the car but was pleased when the guy came out, and walked with him. Their shoulders bumped and he felt Dean's arm touch his back just as they passed some students. No, not chance of them mistaking the situation. Realizing he didn't care, he put his own arm behind Dean, pushing his hand into the guy's back pocket.

Just then, a few people came out of the lobby, including Drew who immediately spotted him. His mouth dropped open, but unfortunately, not for long enough. "I guess this means I don't have to fix you up with dates anymore," he blurted.

Sam gave him a dark look. "Dean, this is my ex friend Drew, also known as the school trouble maker and--"

"And the guy who dragged your boring ass to Dante's." Drew gave Dean a nod. "Hey. I was starting to think our boy here had dreamed you up cause...'nothing compares... nothing compares to you..." he started to sing until Sam kicked him.

"Come on, Dean," Sam practically pushed Dean around Drew and toward the lobby.

Dean could tell that the young man was a little surprised he’d decided to walk up with him to his dorm room, but from Sam’s expression it was a pleasant surprise. The young man definitely seemed far more relaxed here than at Dante’s, much more in his element, and Dean couldn’t resist testing his boundaries a little. Slipping his arm around the younger man’s back and letting his hand come to rest low on Sam’s hip. About as possessive and intimate a gesture that could be made without being labeled ‘obscene’.

Sam had said it did not matter to him that he as a man, but Dean couldn’t help wondering if the boy would feel differently if Sam’s ‘friends’ and others he’d have to interact with on a daily basis were to see them together. Would Sam accept his touch if it meant being possibly ridiculed by his friends? Would Sam want him to pretend he was merely a friend, nothing more, and push his hand away?

He had his answer when Sam did not even hesitate in putting his own arm around him, going so far as to slide his hand into one of his pockets over his ass. Dean glanced over at the young man and smiled warmly. He was tempted to pull Sam even closer and kiss him right there, but they were interrupted by the appearance of one of the young man’s friends.

Dean couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the first comment that spilled from the other man’s mouth, and barely resisting giving him a death glare. If he tugged Sam a little bit closer to him in response it was unconscious. No, Sam certainly wouldn’t need to be ‘set up on dates’ anymore if Dean had any say in the matter. Which he did, since he did not share. Ever.

The demon reminded himself to be polite, giving the other young man a nod of greeting when Sam introduced them. Thoughts on what it would be like to disembowel the other man ceasing when Drew revealed he was the one to bring Sam to Dante’s that first night. Well, even if the young man was annoying, if not for him Dean might never have met Sam so... he would tolerate him. For now.

Dean couldn’t help but smirk at the swift kick Sam gave the other young man, and certainly didn’t protest as Sam thankfully dragged him away from his friend.

Once they were inside the lobby, Sam let out a breath and stole a look at Dean. He'd been afraid Dean would ask Drew questions, and Drew would be more than happy to share, after exaggerating like Drew always did. "I've got... weird friends," he muttered, still a little embarrassed.

"So, there's a study hall in here," he pointed to a door. "But I'm never in there. I like the old library, it's quiet there and you can really study." The study hall in the dorms was more for socializing, or so the residents believed. They'd walked about half way down the hall when he stopped. "And this is..."

A couple of girls came out of the room across from his. "Hi Sam."

"Hey," he grinned, noticing how they were checking Dean out. He also noticed how they turned back after they walked away. Laughing under his breath, he pushed the door open. "My ah... place," he turned the light on and let Dean inside. The room was large enough for him and he wasn't sharing it like many other students did. He kept it quite neat although many surfaces were taken up by paper, designs and books. He also had some models of various machinery he was putting together to understand how they worked and maybe come up with his own ideas.

"You can sit on the bed or at the desk, I'll be quick," he said, hitting the blinking message light on the answering machine and moving around the room to grab clothes and put them into his duffel. There was a message about a class being canceled, and another one from a friend asking if he wanted to go to a football game. Then his dad's second cousin's voice started to come over the speaker and he froze while folding a shirt.

"How many times do I have to call, Sam? You better knock this shit off and call me back or get the damned papers to me. I'm your only family, don't fuck it up." There was a brief silence, and the voice softened. "Sorry, I'm just frustrated. You know I want to do the right thing, for you, John would expect me to. Call me, alright?"

That was the last message. Sam silently finished packing and walked into the small bathroom to get his toiletries. When he came out, he dropped them into the bag and went to unplug his lap top.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle softly at Sam’s muttering about his friends. Yes, he could see that. But at least Drew seemed safe enough at first glance. As long as he didn’t try to get in the way between him and Sam. But sooner or later Dean would take the boy away from all of this, so it really didn’t matter. Dean’s ‘friends’ on the other hand... that could be a problem.

He was still very angry about the way Carmilla had shown up tonight. He almost didn’t want to believe it was a coincidence, that she had shown up when she had purposefully to catch him and Sam together. But since Dean hadn’t even known Sam would be coming to the club tonight, it probably was just coincidence. Either that... or she had been watching him or Sam for much longer than Dean wanted to think about.

Carmilla wasn’t even his biggest worry. She might be a bitch and still treated him as though he belonged to her, but she was still relatively harmless. There were plenty of other demons that would gladly take advantage of his new Achilles Heel. He would have to make a contract with the boy soon. Once a human’s soul was marked by a demon, no other demon could touch it. The stealing of souls was strictly forbidden and any demon who tried would be put to death by his former brethren.

But it had to be the right contract. Where Sam’s soul would belong to him for all eternity, and would never see the fires of hell. Dean would not let his brother’s precious soul be tarnished that way... if Sam was his Samuel. Dean was almost certain now, but... Sam had mentioned dreams. About him. He would have to ask the young man questions about those dreams soon. Could they be memories belonging to Samuel?

Dean followed Sam closely through the dorm, nodding every once in a while as the young man showed him around. The demon couldn’t help but grin a little at the two young women checking him out as they were leaving their room. Dean wasn’t interested, but he threw a charming smile and wink to the two girls as they were walking away anyway. Maybe the girls would ask Sam about him later, if he was available, and Sam would get jealous.

He followed Sam into his room, and somehow it looked exactly as Dean thought it would. A decent sized room, painted in neutral colors. Books and papers stacked on every available surface, but while cluttered the room was obviously clean. Even the bed was made. Dean wandered towards the desk, where some gadgets and obvious design sketches were stacked and felt a twist in his heart as he looked at them.

“Bet you can’t guess what this is.” Samuel would always say with amusement in his eyes as his brother showed him his drawing for his latest invention. No, Dean never could... and he couldn’t now either. Samuel’s drawings had confused him then, and technology had become far more advanced in the recent century. Dean had even less understanding of what the designs could be for now, but he had no doubt they were brilliant. Just like Samuel had been...

Dean was pulled out of his musings of the past by the sound of an angry voice coming from the answering machine and the demon frowned as he looked at Sam. The boy was obviously upset by the message, if his body language was any indication. A swell of protective anger flashed through him and Dean’s eyes flashed dark for a moment before he schooled his features.

“What was that about?” The demon asked as casually as possible when Sam came out of the bathroom. He didn’t want to upset Sam further, but he wanted to know what was going on and if it was anything Dean needed to... take care of.

"Nothing." Sam stood up and started to wind the cord, a frown marring his features. He finished and put it into his messenger bag, then closed up the lap top to put it away too. He felt Dean's gaze, but when he looked over at him, Dean was just inspecting one of his models.

He let out a sigh. "My parents... they died last year." He swore he wasn't going to get all teary about it and forced himself to push away his emotions. "There's the house and some money that's invested and insurance..." Blowing out a breath, he looked up. "That was my dad's cousin. I've only seen him a couple times he... he looks a lot like my dad. I guess he thinks he needs to be taking care of me or something, I dunno. He wants me to sign stuff over but... Just doesn't feel right, and I hate talking about things, you know? Money, when I'd do anything to get them back, but he makes me feel like I'm putting money over family."

Zipping the bag up, he pulled it over his shoulder, the got his duffel. Moving a couple books from his bag pack into the duffel, he hefted that over his shoulder as well. "I guess I just have to man up and tell him again." Giving a mirthless smile, he walked to the door and opened it.

Nothing huh? Well, it most certainly wasn’t nothing, but if Sam didn’t want to talk about it with him, then Dean wouldn’t push.

Maybe Sam didn’t trust him enough to talk to him about it, and he couldn’t even really blame the boy. After all, they’d only spent one night together, and a handful of hours beyond that. Just because Samuel had told him everything, had trusted him completely, didn’t mean Sam would. Though Dean hoped eventually Sam would...

Dean turned back to Sam’s desk, carefully picking up one of the models and started to look it over. He had absolutely no idea what it was supposed to be for. It wasn’t long before he felt Sam’s eyes on him and then heard the young man sigh. When the young man finally began speaking, Dean set down the model carefully and turned to face Sam but Sam wasn’t looking at him anymore.

Yes, he remembered Sam saying that his parents were dead. That he had no family, and Dean remembered thinking what good news that was. How no one would miss the boy if he suddenly vanished off the face of the earth. Obviously, Sam did have some family even if they were only distant relatives. Didn’t seem like Sam thought of the man as family, and the demon could see why.

It certainly didn’t sound like the man was interested in taking care of Sam, more like trying to take care of himself and line his pockets with the money that rightfully belonged to Sam. Dean pushed down his anger at the man, not wanting Sam to notice it and maybe get the wrong idea. Humans. It was really no wonder that some souls became demons so quickly in hell. Well, Carmilla wanted a soul...

Dean walked over to the young man and gently grabbed Sam’s wrist before he could escape out the door, giving the boy a reassuring smile as he pulled him close and kissed him softly.

“Hey, if it doesn’t feel right, then don’t do it. Don’t let anyone push you into anything you don’t want. Not even family. I’m sure it will all work out.” Dean said, kissing Sam again, and then taking one of the young man’s bags from him. “Alright, lets go. You need to relax and I’ve got just the thing for it.”