21: Wanted Dead or Alive

Fandom: Supernatural

Category/Rated: NC-17 for violence/sexual content

Year/Length: 2008/~19,163 words

Pairing: Sam and Dean

Disclaimer: No profit was made off this. The characters belong the originators of Supernatural. Was all in pure fun.

Warning: Wincest

Summary: Sam was left alone for an indeterminate amount of time before he heard the clicking of heels approaching. Another hooded figure walked in, and a female voice emerged from it. "Welcome, Sam."

Series: Supernatural Virtual Slash Season 3

Beta: ailurophile6 for which much thanks.

To Sam, the whirring and battering of wings, and the buzzing and whining of the insects seemed to fill the universe. He fell, flailing wildly as he attempted to keep his feet and found himself lifted, carried, born away on a cloud of insects.

He attempted to yell, but his mouth filled with flies as he opened it, so he soon abandoned that idea. It seemed that there was nothing he could do to protect himself, to stop this from happening, and it wasn't long before he lost consciousness.

When he awoke once more, the insects had gone, and he was lying, bound hand and foot, on the floor of what seemed to be an old church. He could see up through to where the roof had begun to cave in, and although there were stained glass windows, they were dirty and let little light through. He writhed in an attempt to stand up. When that failed he began to yell for Dean.

Sam's voice echoed, and, in turn, ghostly whispers repeated, chattering and hissing his words back to him. At times swirls of ghostly mist moved and eddied around him, ebbing and flowing, first down to the floor then back til they blanketed the room. Thunder outside shook the floor before dying down to a low rumble.

Hooded figures crept in, moving around Sam. Faces could not be seen, hidden deep in black cloaks that seemed to absorb all light and sound. Candles in red and black had been placed down around Sam to form a pattern he didn't recognize, and he could see that he'd been laid upon a sigil that was engraved into the flooring. More chanting in ancient Aramaic echoed around the room, then there was sudden silence as the figures left.

Sam was left alone for an indeterminate amount of time before he heard the clicking of heels approaching. Another hooded figure walked in, and a female voice emerged from it. "Welcome, Sam."

He knew that voice. He frowned, trying to determine where he had heard it before. The woman leaned forward a little, and bright gold hair fell free to cascade over the black of her cloak. Sam's face contorted as he suddenly knew her.

"Jessica?" His voice was harsh, hoarse from yelling for Dean, and he stared up at the woman's shadowy silhouette. It sounded like Jessica, and the hair was certainly hers, but he couldn't comprehend how this could possibly be the girl he'd been all set to marry, the girl he'd seen die so horribly. "I don't understand. You died. What are you doing here?"

"Silly question to ask, since you pretty much sent me here." She reached up and pulled her hood back, exposing the face that he remembered so well. "Thanks for running off with your brother without warning me about your visions. I know you'd been having them for weeks. You sure seemed to forget any concern you had for me the moment he showed up, didn't you? But then again, I understand now why you never talked about him." She shook her head at him and tsked him. "Things like that send you to hell, Sammy."

"I thought it was a dream." Sam felt the grief he'd experienced after Jessica's death rise up all over again to choke him. "How could I possibly have known that it was really going to happen?" He shivered, suddenly cold. "How could I even begin to suspect that I could predict things like that?"

For a moment all was quiet, and then a bell sounded, and the other shadowy figures began to chant again. "Jessica, let me go, please? I need to get back to Dean. He's unprotected." His voice broke. "Please? For the sake of the love we had together...?"

"Love? You didn't love me, Sam. I was just a blonde substitute for your brother. Our birthdays were on the same day. We had the same color hair, and I suppose I took care of you like your brother used to. No, there was no love for me." She walked around him. "But it'll be all over soon. You'll be rejoining him soon enough. You'll both be in hell, and, as a bonus, you'll get to administer his pain. It's what you were born to do, Sam."

"How can you say that?" Sam's tears were falling freely now, and his face was blotchy, twisted in misery. "I loved you. I couldn't sleep for months after you died." He could feel the demon's knife in the sheath in the waistband of his jeans and wondered if he would be able to use it to cut the bonds that fastened his hands. There was no point in trying until he was left alone. Frowning, he looked up at her. "What are you going to do? Dean got away from you, and I've never pledged my soul to hell. If you kill me, I won't go there."

She crouched down and brushed his hair back, "No, you didn't pledge your soul like your mess of a brother, but you do have demon blood in you that bonds you to us. As for Dean, well, if you die, he dies too. Don't forget the crystal that bound you together. We'll get what we want either way. You where you belong, and Dean down here with us as well as a bonus, exactly where he should have been a few months ago. Imagine that! You two fought so hard to prevent this, and it's Helphappening anyway. I realize that your fight for him is more of a battle than you put up for me. You think maybe if I'd changed my name to Dean and got a sex change that would have made a difference." She pushed herself up to her feety and started to move away, "Admit it, Sam. You only cared for one person, and you've used everyone else. Me. The other women - oh, what was her name? Ashley? Yeah, used her too. Don't give a damn about her. Only reason you give her the time of day is because you know Dean can't go without the touch of a woman the way you can. But it won't matter soon enough."

"You're full of it," growled Sam. "Dean loves me, and he's happy when he gets off. He doesn't need it to be a woman." He closed his eyes and tried to ignore her.

There was a pause. He heard Jessica's feet as she padded away, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He relaxed, waiting until there was nobody around him, so that he could try and get to his knife, but it was not to be. As he waited, there was a swish of robes, and then he opened his eyes to see Jessica, who had put the hood back from her face and was in the act of kneeling down beside him, holding a wickedly curved blade of her own.

"What the...?" She reached forward as he was speaking and tore open his shirt. "Sam, Sam, what a pretty tattoo," she said, bending to inspect it. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to spoil it a little." She fumbled in her pocket and withdrew a small metal cup, and then with a deft movement she leaned forward and sliced through his tattoo, holding the cup so that it would catch the blood that began to flow from it.

Dean had been going frantic. He had been left alone at the graveyard, and, with Sam gone, Dean had begun to get flashes of the last time Sam had vanished - taken by the Yellow-Eyed Demon and off to fight some stupid battle for supremacy with the other children. He sighed as he returned to the car and drove away, returning to their room. Even though he knew it was stupid, he hoped that Sam would be there waiting for him, but of course he wasn't. He began to make calls to people he thought might help, but all turned up empty. Bobby tried to calm Dean down, but it wasn't working.

"Damn it, Bobby, they took him, AGAIN! I can't deal with this again." Dean was climbing into the Impala as he spoke, almost yelling at the man who had taken them under his wing.

"Dean, calm down, think. Look, you two are connected, right. Go see Black Feather. He might be able to help. If you can dreamwalk with him again, it might help you get a better fix on where they took Sam."

"I'm on ...." A sudden sharp pain pierced him, and Dean gasped in agony as he grabbed his chest over the site of his tattoo.

"Dean? Dean? You okay?" Bobby called out.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so, but I'm not sure Sam is." He hung up as he started the car, and the Impala roared off at a speed that was likely to have traffic cops frothing at the mouth.

The sleepy reserve shimmered in the late afternoon heat. There were the usual couple of skinny looking dogs in the dusty street, and a horse, tethered to a rail, munched contentedly on the contents of a nosebag, but there were no people visible as the Impala, red from the dusty desert, pulled into the village and parked outside the shop where Black Feather had been when he'd come with Sam a few short weeks before.

As Dean opened the door to climb out of the car, A battered pickup truck came around the corner and pulled up alongside, and the shaman got out to go and offer his hand to Dean.

"My spirit guide bade me prepare for your visit, Dean," he said and then suddenly grinned. "Oh, and Bobby called. He said you were coming, too."

Dean had jerked around, startled at the sound of a truck coming and skidding upon the dirt to a stop. He was relieved to see the old Indian, and he took his hand gratefully. He quirked an eyebrow at him, "Did he mention I would need a stiff drink about now too?" But his features grew serious, and, even though he was tired, barely standing, Dean was eager to try and find his brother. "Sam is missing. Demons took him. I've got to find him. I don't care what it takes. I already know they've hurt him." He pulled his shirt aside, revealing his tattoo. It had an angry red mark running through it, mirroring the cut on Sam.

Black Feather looked solemn as he studied the mark on Dean's chest. "That's bad medicine," he murmured. "C'mon in, and we'll do what we can for ya."

He pushed his way inside past the beaded curtain without waiting for Dean to follow, and once in, busied himself going to a cupboard and pulling out an old, dusty bottle with a silver headed cork. "Come on," he said. "Best take a seat. We've got some ritual to do before you can go into the dream. Do you have anything of your brother's? Something that carries his scent?" As he was talking, he was pouring out a tot of the bottle's contents into a glass, and he handed it to Dean. "There. Drink that."

Dean had to go back to the car to grab one of Sam's shirts. Walking back in, he offered up the shirt, trading it for the strange mixture in the glass. "Does any of this stuff ever smell good?" he asked, eying the glass suspiciously. He sniffed it dubiously then took a sip. "Ewww," he made a face, tried to keep from gagging then drank down the rest. Still grimacing, he handed it back to the old Indian. "I don't want to know what was in that."

"trust me," grinned Black Feather. "You're better off not knowing."

"Okay, so now what?" asked Dean, a smirk creeping onto his face.

"It'll take a few minutes to start working. Time enough for you to strip down to your shorts and wash yourself in this stuff." As Black Feather was speaking, he was pouring water into a bowl, and sprinkling a number of different herbs and liquids into it. "You got a feather?" he asked Dean.

The water for washing had turned a milky color, and the scent from it was pleasantly herbal. "You'll need to be quick, 'cos once that peyote hits, you'll be out in the spirit world, and you need to protect your body while you walk."

"Do I look like a bird?" Dean then thought of the one hidden in the trunk of the Impala. "Be right back." He sprinted back to the car, thinking that was a bad idea, that running would probably make the stuff work faster, but he dug in the hidden compartment and found the feather that had been left behind after his mother had gone from Ashley's apartment. He came back, shucking off his clothes on the way. By the time he reached Black Feather, he was down to his underwear, clumsily stepping out of his jeans as he handed the feather over. "Here." He looked at the bowl for a moment, and then started to wash himself. "I think you're making me do this 'cause I smell bad," he grumbled. Not that he could altogether blame the old shaman. Dean couldn't remember when he'd last showered.

"There's strong magic in herbs," said Black Feather, seriously. "There are things out in the dream world that will try to take over your body while you're out of it." He held out the feather, waving it over Dean as he was washing and began a chant. It didn't take long, and he studied Dean closely as the other man completed his task.

"Okay, Dean Winchester. Take your feather and come with me." Turning, he led the way into the inner room where Dean had been before.

Dean followed, padding along behind, starting to feel light headed. He stumbled a bit but didn't quite fall over. Making his way inside, he settled down where he was told to, still holding the feather. He remembered his father telling him Indian lore about how the feather protects a dreamwalker on their journey, forming a of weapon when needed. "Hey, I'm feeling pretty good, really good. Kind of invincible," he joked but when Black Feather didn't get the reference to the movie Big Trouble In Little China, the smile on Dean's face faded.

There was only the small fire that burned in the center of the room, and its red eye glowed sullenly as Black Feather threw on a handful of sweet smelling grass, kicking it so that it blazed up, filling the room with shadows.

As Black Feather leant over Dean, he pressed a pebble with a drawing of a lizard on it into his hands. "Go and find your brother," he murmured. "this will show you the way.

Dean looked down at the pebble in his hand. He barely seemed to hear the Indian, but the words echoed, and he found himself concentrating on the stone, finding it fascinating. He was startled as the lizard seemed to turn its head to him and crawled off the rock, moving across the floor. "Hey, wait up!" Dean got to his feet, suddenly full of energy and started to follow the lizard out. When he pushed through the bead curtain he found that he was dressed, and an old, ruined church was in front of him. He still held the pebble in one hand, and the feather in the other. Tucking the rock away into a pocket, he started walking toward the dilapidated building.

Sam was feeling disoriented. There was heavy incense in the air, and the smell of it made his head swim. He'd been left to lie inside the sigil, and was struggling to have his numb, bound hands extract the demon knife from its concealing pocket in the back of his pants. He had no idea what was going to happen to him, but knew that, whatever it was, it wouldn't be good. He'd finally succeeded in getting his fingers onto the hilt of the knife and was painstakingly extracting it so that he could cut himself free when Jessica returned.

"Showtime, Sammy. I guess this is where you and I say our final goodbyes, because in just a few minutes you're going to be food for Moloch." She smiled coldly. "The fire is nice and hot. I bet you'll burn really quickly. It'll be a nice gesture of solidarity with me, don't you think?"

Dean could see the stone steps that led up to the entrance, and as he started toward them, he saw the lizard that had been guiding him. It didn't go inside, and Dean moved up beside it, wondering what preventing that. His heart beat heavy and hard in his chest. His blood pounded in his ears, and his breath seemed to stick in his throat. He moved to the top step and then stopped, unable to go any further. Something was preventing him, and it seemed to be preventing the lizard too.

He could hear chanting, so he moved to try and see what was going on, finally spotting a window that had a pane of the leaded glass missing. He peered through it, trying to find out what was happening. What he saw, he didn't like.

Lying on the floor, listening to Jessica's words, Sam felt rage building inside him, a rage he never knew he had until that moment. He squirmed, disregarding his own discomfort as he brought the knife around beneath him to sever his bindings. The knife cut him first, and Sam heard distant weeping, felt strange energy pour through him, felt something join him, claim him as its own. Jessica laughed as she saw him writhe, but as Sam's eyes suddenly filmed with black, then yellow, she gasped.

The ground shook, and the old church groaned. The chanting that was going on around him faltered as Sam sat up and laughed.

"I'm tired of being the victim, Jessica," he growled. "You think Moloch cares who burns, as long as there's a burning? I don't. How about you revisit the flames. You've had practice, so you should be able to burn really well." Leaning forward, he cut the binding around his ankles and knees and then rose to his feet. "I'd say take me to your leader, but since I'm going to be your leader, that wouldn't make any sense."

Dean was watching, and what he saw sent a chill through him that was like ice. His eyes went wide, and he shouted out, "SAMMY! NO!" but it was clear his voice was not heard. "SAMMY!" he tried again, but it did no good. Dean saw darkness surround his brother like a blanket and embrace him like a loving mother. He felt his own heart turn cold and ache. And then he was falling.

The world was pale and fuzzy. Sparkling dust surrounded Dean. The lizard that had led him to Sam seemed to grow, until it finally stood erect on its hind legs, looking at Dean with a smile on its face.

"You are troubled?" it said, in a harsh, high voice. "You have questions that must be answered? Ask."

Dean jumped and fell back, tumbling down upon his butt. He looked up at the figure, and anger laced his handsome features. "Tell me where my brother is. Tell me how to stop this. Tell me how to make things so it will never happen."

"I cannot do that," hissed the lizard. "You need to seek out Old Man Coyote. He can do it, if he will. He's the tricky one. He can weave through time and make things as they were. Summon him, and he may grant your desire, if you amuse him."

The lizard slowly began to shrink down again until it was no longer visible. As it disappeared, a wave of smoke and ash rolled over Dean.

Dean jerked awake, the smoke around him thick and pungent as the fire crackled in the center of the room. He sat up, finding the rock still in his hand. Jumping up, he looked around. "Black Feather, I need to summon the trickster," he croaked, his voice hoarse and rasping.

"You want to disturb Ol' Man Coyote?" Black Feather looked up from the corner where he sat, patiently honing a long, wicked looking knife, and frowned. "You sure? He doesn't always do what you want, you know. Sometimes he's mean." He grinned. "Hell, he's mean all the time. Sometimes he's downright bad to know."

Dean looked at the Indian as if he was kidding, "Dude, he made us investigate his dancing horny aliens. He turned me into a girl. I know he's mean. He likes to play jokes. Let me worry about him. I need to call him, so are you gonna help me or not."

The old Indian sighed. "Son, of course I'm going to help you; you're Bobby's kin in all but name, and I owe Bobby bigtime. I just wanted you to know that Ol' Man Coyote is not all joy." He paused, laid his knife down and grinned. "He turned you into a girl? Really? Did you get a chance to... you know?" He blushed.

"Pop the cherry? What? You think I'm a fool? Didn't want to take the chance of being sacrificed as some virgin? Yeah, I did, and it was good," Dean answered. "Okay so what do we need. And don't say a virgin either."

"Nah. Virgins are too hard to come by these days." Black Feather rose to his feet. "We need a bowl of milk, some jerky and pemmican and a good pipe of tobacco. Let's go."

As he was leaving the room, the old Indian was shucking his oil covered overalls, and he turned back to Dean. "Here. Get your pants on and go get the stuff from my buddy, Two Horses, over in the store. Tell him it's for me, and he's to settle up with me later. Time for me to get my medicine man garb on, and it'll take me a few minutes."

Dean grabbed for his clothing, pulling it on frantically. He thought about making a comment about wearing the whole make-up thing and sporting showgirl feathers, but he decided that discretion was the better part of valor for the moment and held his tongue. Pulling his boots on, he dashed out, running over to the general store to retrieve what Black Feather needed. As he placed the order, the other man looked at him suspiciously, but when Dean said the order was for Black Feather, he grumbled something and shrugged as he began to gather the requested items into a paper bag.

Dean waited, all the while thinking about his brother. God, he hoped he wasn't too late, but the feeling inside him said he was. He had to convince the Trickster to let him go back in time, but how? What could he offer up that the demigod would accept besides not hunting him down? That was already a done deal.

When Dean arrived back at the house, Black Feather was ready. Gone was the oil smeared mechanic, and in his place was an Indian medicine man. He wore buckskins and feathers, and there were beaded ornaments around his arms, and a sigil painted on his chest. Wordlessly he indicated that Dean should remove his shirt, and when he did so, the same sigil was applied to him, overlapping the marred tattoo that lay over his heart.

"Did you bring the stuff? Black Feather was reaching for the paper bag as he spoke. "This will take a little time. You want a beer?"

Dean tried to keep from giggling as the stuff was painted on him, holding it back with difficulty. He extended the paper bag in offering and gave a shrug, "Could actually use something a little stronger." He knew this was not going to be fun - or easy for that matter - but he would do what it took.

"You got it. Coyote gets some, but that don't mean we can't have some to keep him company." The medicine man took a large bottle of Jack Daniels from one of the cupboards, and poured some out into a couple of clay bowls. "There ya go," he murmured, handing one to Dean and taking the other himself. "Should get us in the mood for the old man."

He was putting together a tray of food and drink as he spoke. "Makes it easier that you've got ties to the old man already. All you gotta do is pull on those ties. When he turned you into a girl, did he say anything to you?"

"Yeah, said I was Sam's weakness, and that he was mine. That Sam needed to be more like me and stop trusting all these demons around us. They would sell us out the first chance they got." Dean reached for his jacket and reached into a pocket, pulling out some Twinkies. "Oh, and he likes sweets." He set the package down with the other stuff. "We should make an exploding Twinkie, since he likes jokes so much."

"You know, that's not a bad idea. He'd appreciate that." Black Feather poured them both another drink and then added a third bowl to the tray for the trickster. Reaching into a carved box in the corner, he pulled out a beaded headband and tied it around Dean's forehead. "It sounds as though he likes you anyway. He doesn't just give advice out to people, and you ain't even a red man, so that's good." His fingers were filling the pipe with tobacco as he spoke, and with a grin he crumbled in a little cannabis resin for good measure. "There. That ought to get his attention. Now all we gotta do is get in there and do the dance."

"WHAT?" Dean looked at him. "Dance. Whoa, I don't dance, dude." Dean shook his head. "I don't fly. I don't do shorts, and I sure as hell don't dance."

"Yeah you do," said the other man, grinning at Dean's apparent outrage. He carried the tray into the other room and set it down beside the fire. "If you want this enough, you'll dance the sun up." He showed Dean a series of shuffling steps that ended with a stomp of his foot on the ground. "This is what we're gonna be doing. Come on. Do it with me, and you can have another drink when we're done." Without waiting for Dean to answer, he began to dance around the fire, chanting softly as he did so.

Dean gave a groan, sighed heavy and half heartedly started to mimic the old Indian. He tried to repeat the words and knew one thing, the Trickster had to be laughing his ass off. Dean felt silly and probably looked it as well. He groaned and then kept going, putting a little more energy into it. This was for Sam after all.

The scent of cannabis within the hut was growing, and it was evident that there had been some tossed onto the fire along with the sweetgrass and other herbs that Dean could smell. As the pair performed their shuffling dance around the fire, all sound from outside slowly deadened until the only thing that could be heard was the stamp of their feet and their voices chanting. The fire was dying, and the smoke from it was throat catching, but all of a sudden it flared, and as it did so, a mangy dog trotted in through the curtain, sat down beside the tray, scratched behind its ear and then slowly became a man.

Dean stopped, looking over at the dog and recognized it from the last time. He turned to face the Trickster. He moved around the fire. "What? No water balloons being tossed. No wise cracks?"

"You've got a smart mouth, Winchester," smirked the god. "You'll need to watch that tongue of yours, or you might find that it starts to grow. Wouldn't that be fun?" He stepped forward and surveyed the contents of the tray. "For me? You shouldn't have!" Picking up the bowl, he sipped the whiskey appreciatively. Black Feather ducked his head in an obeisance and went to get the rest of the bottle.

"I brought you the Twinkies," Dean offered up. He moved around and stepped closer. He drew a breath and looked at the funny little man. "I remember what you told us before. About the demons. Not trusting them. That Sam should become more like me." He drew a breath and sighed. "They took him. They have him and ... are changing him."

"Well, do something." The trickster frowned, studying Dean. "You can't let them turn him, you know. The consequences would be terrible." He held out his bowl and nodded as Black Feather replenished it. "What are you going to do to stop them? Surely you aren't going to let them turn him without any fight?"

Dean looked at him. "It's why I called you. I need your help to stop it. To stop all of this." Dean's green eyes stared straight at the demigod, imploring, and he took a breath. "I want you to take me back to when Sam was first taken by the yellow eyed freak that killed my mom. Drop me off in that town, and I can keep all of this from happening. Let me take care of Yellow-Eyes."

"Have you considered the consequences of that?" The trickster reached for one of the Twinkies and tore open the wrapper. "You're going to be altering the past - starting a whole new stream of reality. There's no guarantee that you'll come out of it any different." He bit into the cake in his hand. "Well, I guess you did give me the Twinkies." Turning to Dean, he spoke with his mouth full. "I suppose it could be fun. All right. I'll do it, so listen here. When you go to sleep tonight, you'll be able to enter your sleeping brother's dreams. Tell him what you need to tell him, and make sure that he listens, all right?"

Dean had been worried. He knew what he was asking. But it had to be done. In the back of his mind he knew it would be undoing a lot of what bound he and his brother together, and that it would mean having to do things all over again if that were even possible, but for his brother he knew that he would suffer anything. "Okay, I'll tell him. And I know how to make him listen. I'll make it so he doesn't have a choice."

"You know he won't remember." The trickster stared into his eyes, apparently waiting for him to realize and understand something he thought was important. "He won't recall anything that's happened during the past year, and neither will you. All the good will disappear along with the bad. Your Christmas together won't even be a memory."

Dean grabbed the trickster's collar, "Then how am I supposed to save him if I don't remember what I'm suppose to do?" He tried to get the Trickster to understand, "I have to remember. You understand me?" Suddenly that white angelic glow that had appeared around him when he'd faced off against the demons was wrapping around him. "We've played by everyone's rules and now, for once, things need to go our way."

Smirking still, the trickster allowed himself to be manhandled. "Listen to me, shortbus. You go back into your brother's dream and tell him not to get killed, right? So let's just suppose that he does what you tell him, and doesn't get killed. You won't be making your dumbass deal with the demon of the crossroads, and you'll have the rest of your life in front of you. You got that?" He took hold of the pipe and kindled it with a flick of his fingers, filling the room with the smell of tobacco and pot. "So you've succeeded, but that means everything that happened after that moment is gone, didn't happen, goodbye is all she wrote. You want to remember what didn't happen? I can do it, but why would you want to?"

Dean looked at him, "Because of my mom. I want that memory. I need that memory." He released the demigod and let his head hang, defeated. "Besides, who knows? I might even learn from those mistakes and be stronger for the things we did right."

The god pursed his lips, considering this. "You know, I like you, Winchester. I think you've got chutzpah." He waved a finger in the air. "Your brother won't have any memories. You're going to have so much fun seducing him all over again, aren't you?"

Dean was relieved, but then he gave a little shrug, "I'm sure it will amuse you greatly." He looked at him, "So it's a deal?" Of course those words stung him. Again, making a deal for his brother. "You aren't gonna make me kiss you are you?"

"I'd rather kiss that bottle over there," said the god. "Pass it over." He gave Dean another long appraising look. "You already made the bargain when I accepted your Twinkie. The offering was acceptable." He snickered. "Just don't start worshipping me. You know how that shit goes to my head. I'll be hell to live with."

"Dude, I kind of worshiped you when you did the dancing alien thing, that was good." Feeling weak from sheer relief, Dean reached for the bottle and handed it over. "So tonight, I tell Sam. Make him listen. Then what?" I wake up in that old run down town?"

"If he listens, yes. If nothing changes, you'll wake up here, with a hangover." The trickster drained the bottle, set the pipe down on the tray again and nodded to Black Feather. "I'll be seeing you," he said, and dropped down to all fours, morphing into his doggy form ready to trot out again, tail high.

"Well, there ya go," said Black Feather, grinning. "I knew you had him when he ate the Twinkie. Come on back. I've got another bottle. You can sleep here tonight and take the feather with you when you go dream walking."

"I'm so gonna have a hang over," Dean mumbled. He tucked his feather into his shirt pocket and followed Black Feather. "You know, I'm really grateful for all you have done to help us." He walked back into the house and yawned. Reaching into his boot, Dean pulled out his favorite knife. "Here, I want to give this to you. I know you likely won't remember where you got it from, but maybe you will."

Taking the knife, Black Feather turned it over in his hands, tested the edge and admired it for a moment. "Sweet," He said softly. Holding out his left hand, he stabbed the tip of the knife into it so that a small pool of blood welled up. "Give me yours," he said.

Dean held out his hand and turned his head away, wincing a little as his hand was stabbed. Putting on a tough front, he made like it didn't hurt.

Black Feather clasped his hand to Dean's so that the little wounds were pressed together and their blood mingled. "Call on me when you need. I will remember that you and I have lives that run together. You're gonna need that, I think, so I've made you my brother in blood, so now go find our little brother and bring him back safe, Dean Winchester."

The demons were about to come into their own. Sam had formulated a plan that would unleash all the devils in hell on the world and put an end to the struggle once and for all. It seemed to him that there had once been something - someone - that he'd cared about, but when he tried to bring it to mind, his thoughts seemed to fragment, scatter, and all he could recall was blood. He'd decided that he liked blood.

The preparations were almost complete. Sam was going to need a lot of blood for his ritual, and he'd decided that Jessica, pretty, blond Jessica, who had been going to burn him, would have almost enough blood in her for his invocation to work, so he'd had her stripped and bound, and now she lay where he had been a few hours earlier, on the uneven paving stones of the old church.

"We need to wait until the moon rises," he said to the demons that hovered round him. "I'm going to bring the moon down out of the sky, and I want it to land where I can see it. The moon brings madness, and we want a lot of madness, don't we? It'll help if everyone watching the moon goes mad. It'll make things... juicier. Imagine the fuss there'll be when something the size of the moon crashes into the earth."

He had the knife Star had given him, and he was honing it, ready. This would be the last night before the world went mad.

The sky overhead was heavy with storm clouds. Lightning danced in the sky. Thunder rumbled and clashed heavy and loud. Dean knew instinctively that wasn't good. Sam was off somewhere, no longer his brother, and in this time line there seemed to be nothing more that Dean could do. He'd failed in everything. The world was going to pay for his failure, and that thought alone was slowly killing him. Because he knew that when he died, Sam would too.

Dean refused point blank to let that ever happen. Things would change. The Trickster had promised him that when he went to bed that night he would be able to find Sam in the past and warn him about the things he'd seen in his dream walk. He could alert Sam to what he was likely to do, and make him understand what was going to happen to happen unless... Dean would go back to the turning point before he made his deal - before Sam had been killed - and prevent it from happening.

Knocking back one last drink, Dean thanked Black Feather, and then went inside the medicine room to go to bed. He sat upon the edge of the bed that the shaman had arranged for him, taking off first his boots then the rest of his clothing. Finally down to his underwear and tee shirt, he tucked himself in bed. "Everything will be different, Sammy, better. Promise." He drew a breath and lay back, closing his eyes and feeling sleep wash over him.

It was Sarah Winchester who came for him, blushing at her own daring. "You have a long way to travel tonight, Dean Winchester. Best come with me now, while there is still time."

She turned to go, not waiting to see if he was following, and there were suddenly clouds above him, a fresh breeze blowing, and the scent of blood somewhere close by. "Hurry up. We'll be late," she called.

Dean had jumped at the voice, and now he looked around 'til he spotted Sarah. "Huh? What?" He started after her. "While there is time?" Running to catch up to her seemed like running through molasses. "Late for ..."

"Dean?"

Dean turned at the sound of another female voice. "Ashley?" Moving over, he took her hand. He'd never dreamed of her before, but yet here she was.

Ashley gripped Dean's fingers. "What is going on? I went to bed and ... here I am."

"Ashley, things are happening. Not good ones either," he pulled her along, following Sarah.

"Who is she?" Ashley asked.

"Sarah Winchester." He called out to the little lady ahead of them. "Sarah, where are we going?"

"Back." Sarah pouted at him, and viewed Ashley with distrust. "You need to go back. That's what I was told."

She took his other hand and began to tug him, her small hand surprisingly strong. "Come on. We have to be at the gate when it opens, or we'll miss the chance." She looked at her watch and frowned. "It's nearly time. You need to remember everything about when you want to be, and the gate will take you there. Once you're there, you'll need to do what you came for as quickly as you can."

Ashley was still following. "Dean? Where's Sam? Why isn't he with you?"

Dean looked down at her, heartsick. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, Sam's ... Sam's gone." It was all he could tell of the truth. "But I'm gonna change that. I'm gonna fix it all. I have to. Go back, Ashley. I promise everything will be right again."

"No! He can't be gone." Tears filled her eyes. "What are you going to do?" She was slowly falling behind as she spoke, and Sara was yanking on his hand, and he could only go where he was being dragged.

"Look! There's the gate. It's about to open." Sarah was behind him, shoving him towards a darkened area. They seemed to be running through long grass now, and Dean was finding it hard to keep up. Sarah was gliding over the ground, barely moving, and he wished he could slow down long enough to determine how she was doing that.

The darkness began to sparkle, and all of a sudden, Sarah was shoving him, pushing him towards the place where the sparkling began, and then he was falling, body loose and flailing as he tried to catch hold of something - anything - that would stop him.

"Find him, Dean," she shrieked, and then she was gone.

Dean panicked but then his memory triggered, recalling the night Sam was taken. Dean remembered the motel room, remembered stepping on a roach, remembered Sam's face looking disgusted. They'd decided to go for a burger rather than wait and eat where the bugs were, and that was when Sam had been taken from him. He knew that he had to warn Sam what was in store for them, before it happened.

Dean sat up in bed, opening his eyes to find that he was back in the roach ridden motel. Looking over at the other bed he could see Sam there, mouth open as he snored softly. He threw the covers back and quickly made his way over to Sam, knowing that he hadn't much time. "Sam. Sammy. Wake up." Sure, this was a dream but it felt real enough. "SAM!" He shook his brother.

Sam lay on his back, sprawled out, arms spread wide, and his hair like a nimbus surrounding his face. It was a moment before Dean's urgent shaking began to take effect, and he groaned. "Dude, 'sup? Go 'way! 'M sleepin'."

"Wake up, I have to tell you something important, and I need you awake," He shook his brother, desperately trying to wake him. "Dude, c'mon and wake up."

"Jesus, Dean, what is it?" Sam managed to get both his eyes open at once and struggled up onto his elbow. "Are you okay? You ate too many hot wings last night?"

"No, just listen to me." He forced Sam to look at him. "Sam, you are gonna be taken by the Yellow-Eyed Demon. He's gonna take you to a ghost town, along with the other kids. Ava, Andy and a few others, but there's one you especially have to look out for; his name is Jake. The demon wants you all to fight each other. I know you don't want to, but you're going to have to, or die. You have to kill Jake. If you don't, you die, Sam, because he'll kill you. You got that? You die and... And I go to the crossroad demon and give up my soul so you can live. I get a year, and at the end of it, I will have to kill you to keep the world safe ... from you. I don't want to kill you. I don't want any of this. Sammy, you have to fight Jake. Don't ever turn your back to him. He will stab you and you'll be a goner. You understand me, man? I'll be there to help you as soon as I can, but I won't be able to get there in time to save you from Jake, if you turn your back."

"Whoah, whoah! Hold up there." Sam pushed himself up to sitting. "What are you talking about? Did you have some kind of bad dream?" He blinked at Dean, sloe eyes glittering in the half light that was filtering through the undraped window. "Slow down a minute and tell me what on earth you've got your panties in a bunch about."

"Just trust me on this, Sam. For once in your life, trust me. Believe me." Dean could feel moisture pricking the backs of his eyes and swallowed, willing his brother to understand what he was being told. "Sam, you've got to remember this and not just play it off as a dream. You got me? You have to kill Jake if I don't get there to you in time."

"Okay, okay. I hear you. Kill Jake, right!" Sam nodded. "And how do you know all of this stuff, anyway?" The younger Winchester stumbled from his bed and made for the bathroom. "You have some kind of vision?"

Dean watched his brother and then shifted, the year flashing back before him. He could give up the love that they'd shared if it would only save his brother. "Something like that. It's complicated, Sam. Just please, please believe me. It will change the future. Change things for us. For the better."

Sam returned to sit on the edge of the bed and studied his brother, a faint frown on his face as he drank in the panic in Dean's eyes. "Well, okay, dude. If you say it's important. I guess I'll know what to do if and when some guy called Jake turns up." He reached to put one large hand on Dean's shoulder and pat it. "So come on. Tell me how it's going to change things."

Dean looked at his brother, and he sighed. "You won't turn evil. I won't sell my soul. And I'll keep my promise to you and to Dad." He looked at his brother, his eyes still bright with the tears that remained as yet unshed.

Sam bit his lip and frowned. "Listen, dude, you're being weird, but I can tell that something's got to you." He squeezed Dean's shoulder, slid his arm so that it rested around his brother's back. "It'll be all right. I won't let this Jake dude hurt me. I won't turn my back on him, I promise, and you'll be fine."

Dean looked at him. The moments between him and Sam in the past year were going to be gone. They'd remain merely as memories to Dean, but it was all going to be worth it. Sam was worth it to him. Worth his own soul. Worth the world. "Say, why don't we go get something to eat. I have this sudden craving for pie." He smiled slightly, knowing this was the first step towards that new journey.

"You really think that there's gonna be a place that sells pie at this time in the morning? what is it? four am?" Sam gave Dean a good-natured grin. "Dude, you're a slave to your stomach."

Rising to his feet again, Sam looked around for his pants. He was just stepping into them when he stopped and straightened up, frowning. "Dean, did you say that you'd sell your soul to that demon at the crossroads for me?" Sam licked his lips. "And she only gave you a year?"

Dean was getting dressed as well, zipping his pants up as he met Sam's eyes. He nodded. "Yeah. Just a year," He answered then turned to pull his shirts on. "C'mon, finish getting dressed. The master wants pie."

Sam was on him in a flash, had him braced against the wall, one muscular forearm against his throat as he thrust his face into Dean's. "What the fuck would you do that for? Do you care so little about yourself that you'd throw your life away?"

Dean was shocked as he looked up at Sam. "I couldn't let you die. You were my responsibility, and I.... I couldn't. Sam, what was I suppose to do? Tell me. Huh?"

"You aren't fit to be let out alone, are you?" There were tears standing in Sam's eyes as he kept Dean pressed back against the wall. "To give yourself over to a demon? You do realize that you're talking about doing exactly what you railed against Dad for doing, don't you. Let me think. What were your words? 'What's dead should stay dead,' I think they were." Sam suddenly let him go, but then grabbed him into a fierce hug that almost squeezed the breath from him. "So how come you know all this?" he growled into Dean's ear.

Dean felt ripped apart. Scared. Hurt. Angry. Sam had him in a bear hug that kept him from moving. The tone of Sam's growl pierced him. Even worse was feeling his brother like this, knowing they had never been together. "I was only righting what Dad screwed up. He was a bastard. He put everything on me. There's been so much left to me since I was four. I've already cheated death twice. Maybe it was just time. Third time pays for all." He swallowed, wondering how to answer the last. "Just trust me, Sam. I know. Please."

There was a moment's pause, then Sam relaxed his hold on his brother, but didn't let him go. "I don't know what I'd do if you died, man. You can't just give yourself away like that. I... wouldn't want to live." Sam's eyes were still glittering with unshed tears, and his face was very close to Dean's as if he was afraid to let him go. "So when is this going to happen?" he said at last.

It was so tempting. Those lips close to his, remembering what they felt like against his own, remembering how Sam's hands felt against him, against his body, feeling them so close to him even now. Dean looked at his brother, fighting to keep from closing that gap. "Soon, tonight. But everything will be okay, Sammy. It will be. Please, just trust me, Sammy. I'm doing this 'cause I love you." God, he loved Sam so much more than he should.

"I love you too, man." Sam gave Dean a long, curious look as he stepped away and allowed Dean to move from the wall. Then he grinned. "Who are you, and what have you done with my brother? Does this mean that you're okay with the touchy-feely now? You want to go get a half-sweet, non-fat caramel macchiato now to go with your pie?"

"Moment's passed, too late," smirked Dean, pushing away from the wall and going to put his boots on. "C'mon." Dean cleared his throat and tried to push all other lingering thoughts aside as he grabbed his bag and started heading out to the car. "Shake your ass, my pie is waiting," he shouted.

Sam liked Jake. The other man seemed to be very like him in a lot of ways, confused by his special powers and not even slightly evil. They'd co-operated all the way through until now, and it came as a very real shock when all of a sudden Jake turned on him.

Dean's words came back to him. Even if he liked Jake, this battle was either Jake or himself - not just himself, but Dean too. He set his jaw. He couldn't let Dean die for him. The love he had for Dean was immense, and although Sam didn't like the idea of killing a kid that had been thrown into this mess without any choice, Dean came first. Dean deserved better than a single year of life with the promise of hell to follow. Sam refused to let that happen. Jake would die.

When it was over, and Jake's body lay smashed and bleeding beside the fence where they had fought, Sam turned to walk away, but after a moment, remembering what Dean had said, returned to plunge his knife into Jake's heart.

Dean felt like he'd lived the nightmare all over again. The Roadhouse had still burned. Dean hadn't been able to get through to warn them. And when he tried to tell Ash, the man cut him off and hung up. Dean had managed to get Bobby to take him to the ghost town where the battle was playing out, arriving earlier than he had before. This time he ran, not shouting Sam's name to distract him, arriving just in time to see Sam plunge the knife into Jake. Skidding to a stop, he was in the act of walking over to put his arms around his brother when he saw the bastard Demon appear.

"Well, well, Sammy. Knew you had it in you," Yellow Eyes slapped Sam's back then looked over at Dean. "Sorry, bucko, but me and Sammy here have some more business to take care of." Azazel smiled at Dean and grabbed Sam again, whisking his brother away. This time Dean knew where they were going.

"C'mon," he told Bobby, "I know where they are going." It wasn't long before the pair were back in the Impala and racing off towards the Hell's Gate.

Even to himself Sam seemed strangely calm. He said nothing as the yellow eyed demon transported him from the ghost town and away from Dean. The demon smirked at him and reached to clap him on the shoulder again. "Well congratulations, Sammy. You're it--last man standing. The American Idol. I gotta give it to you, I had you figured out for the winner right from the start."

"Go...to hell." Sam shrugged his shoulders, his show of bravado one that would have made Dean proud.

"Been there...done that." Azazel's smirk increased as he studied Sam.

"Everything you put me through-- dragging me to that place, making me kill those people..." Sam felt strange - somehow dislocated from time, as if this was not his place at all.

"All part of the beauty pageant. Sammy, I needed the strongest, and that's you."

"Needed me for what?" Sam's tone was sharp.

The demon turned glittering, yellow eyes on him. "Oh, I got a laundry list of tasty things for you."

"The only thing I'm going to do is kill you." The growl in Sam's voice brought a big smile to Azazel's face.

"You know, others have tried. It's not easy." Again the creature stared into Sam's eyes, and he felt slightly sick. "Trust me, Sam. You want to be a good little soldier here"

Sam knew threats. He'd grown up with them, and he didn't take kindly to them. "And if I'm not?

"If you're a bad little soldier, that heroic big brother of yours -what's his name? Ah, yes, Dean. Well, I'll make certain that he lives long enough to know the chewy taste of his own intestines. No, Sammy. I'm not bluffing"

Sam pictured that, saw the widening, shark-like smile on Azazel's face, and caved. "What do you want me to do?" he sighed.

It was night again. Dean felt as if time were telescoping. Somehow, henew he'd reached the devil's gate before Azazel with Sam. And he knew what the tracks were. Sam wouldn't. "Dean, would you like to clue me in?" Bobby insisted as he got out.

Striding around the car to the trunk, Dean he grabbed a sack of salt and made for the gate. "This is a hell's gate. A damn doorway to hell. Yellow-Eyes wants Sam to open it, and the Colt is the key." He started dumping the salt down, hoping it would contain anything that made a bolt for it as the gate opened. He marked the ground where he knew the bastard would appear, knowing he could trap him there. Dean was going to kill the yellow eyed bastard and make sure things were different this time.

"And how do you know this? Come to you in a dream?" Bobby grabbed Dean's shoulder.

Dean looked at him, "Sort of like that. Just trust me. I've been right so far, yes?" He checked his gun. "Sam should be here any moment. Azazel can't get in so he's safe. This is inside one big Devil's Trap formed by the railroad."

Sam couldn't believe it. The demon had given him the Colt. Just like that, he'd handed it over. Now, the way he saw it, all he had to do was find his brother and then together they'd find Azazel and shoot him. He couldn't wait.

He pulled out his cellphone as he ran through the trees towards the place the demon had directed him. If only he could get a hold of Dean they would be in clover. Thumbing Dean's number on speed dial, he held the phone to his ear as he ran.

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when the phone rang. Ellen had shown up not too long ago, scaring the bejezus out of him, and now his phone was ringing. He felt wound up tighter than a rattler ready to strike, and his skin seemed full of bees. Sliding his phone open he held it to his ear. "Sammy, that better be you."

"Dean!" Sam was breathless, still running, wondering just how much further he had to go to reach the place that the demon had told him. "I have the Colt. The demon... gave it to me. Now all we have to do is get together, wait for him and then shoot him. Where are you?"

As he spoke his last words, he burst out of the trees to see three figures in the distance clustered together beside a graveyard. "You need to come find me. How long before you can get here?"

"Already here, little bro," Dean raised his hand and waved at his brother. "Get over here before he shows up, quick." Dean slid his phone closed and started to run to meet Sam half way. "Give me the Colt." Dean was holding out his hand as he rushed toward Sam.

Sam felt an urge to fling himself into his brother's arms. He handed the Colt over to his brother and gave him a relieved smile. "You think we can beat him?"

There was a roll of thunder as Sam was speaking. Azazel appeared suddenly behind his brother, and before Dean knew it, he was flying through the air to crash head first into a tombstone. "Boys shouldn't play with daddy's gun," the demon said as he captured the Colt. "You I'll deal with later," he snarled at Sam, waving one hand to send Sam flying after his brother. Stepping over to the large, ornamental iron door of the crypt to which he'd directed Sam earlier, he inserted the muzzle of the gun into the hole at the center. As the doors slowly ground open, he began to laugh. "Better I do it myself anyway. So much better."

Dean had hit the tombstone with an ugly sounding thud and rolled over. He looked over at Sam, who seemed out for the count. Wincing, he got up and sprinted, rushing over to grab the Colt from the door. "Only thing is, you underestimated us." Dean was aglow in a bright, white light as he raised the barrel of the gun.

Azazel turned his head and frowned at Dean. Perhaps he had, the demon thought as he sent the persistent young man flying back again, "You're like a wasp. I just have to keep swatting and swatting at you." He turned away to watch as demons began crawling up towards him through the gate. Demons flooded out of the gate - demons, and one more.

Dean's eyes widened as he saw his father emerge from the gateway and move up behind Azazel. He reached for the colt and scrambled to get up, watching as John grabbed hold of the demon. The struggle began. Waiting, watching as the demon came back into the host's body, Dean raised the gun.

"This is for our mom, you son of a bitch!" Pulling the trigger, he watched as the bullet sailed out and struck the demon in the head, sending him flying back. Dean lowered his arm. Things hadn't worked out quite as he'd thought, but it didn't matter, the demon was dead, and his father was free. Bobby and Ellen had closed the gate, and all was well.

Looking over to where Bobby and Ellen were tightening the bolts that held the gate closed and making sure that the door was shut on the gateway once again, Sam shuddered. Turning to Dean, he frowned. "Dude, you know that demons got out when the door was open. Did you see who else escaped?" He beamed at Dean. "Dad! He was here; I saw him."

Breathing hard, Dean nodded as he looked over at his brother. Sam looked much better than he did. He could feel the blood running down his nose. "Yeah, well, if anyone was stubborn enough to crawl his way out, it was Dad." Dean moved around the demon's body and closer to Sam. "Dude, I'm surprised. For once you listened to me. You remembered to kill Jake."

"You didn't think I would?" Sam looked hurt. He reached up with one thumb and smeared the blood from Dean's upper lip. "You've saved my life over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me. Don't you think I'd do the same for you? You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. I didn't want to kill him. He wasn't evil or anything; he was just like me - some kind of hapless pawn that got caught up in the stupid game, but you're my bro. You come first."

Dean gave Sam a loving and thankful smile. "For once, little brother didn't just stick his tongue out at his big brother and do it anyway." He pulled Sam into a hug. "I'm proud of you, Sammy." Dean clung to him for a bit longer before pulling back, "But I have to say, dude, Jake, if you hadn't of done what you did, he wouldn't have been a hapless pawn. You did the right thing, Sammy."

Sam flung one arm around Dean's neck and scrubbed the top of his head with his knuckles. "I plan on making up for it by sticking my tongue out at you twice tomorrow." He grinned as the two of them went back over to where the Impala was parked. "So did you ever get your pie?" he asked Dean.

"Nope." Dean answered, grinning as Bobby and Ellen joined them.

Ellen looked at the two brothers, "Well...Yellow Eyed Demon might be dead. But a lot more got through that gate."

Dean nodded. "Probably a hundred, maybe more."

Bobby looked between the brothers, his face grim. "Hope to hell you boys are ready. 'Cause the war has just begun."

Dean turned to the Impala, opening the trunk and throwing the Colt inside, "Well, then," he looked to Sam, "We got work to do. But not till after pie." And it felt damn good to know that he didn't have to tell Sam, he was going to die in a year. Sam would never know how good that felt.

"Does Dean have a pie fetish?" Ellen asked looking between the brothers.

"Oh, hell, yeah," murmured Sam. "He's never met a pie he didn't like." He gave Ellen a fond smile. "I promised him a slice last night, but then I got abducted by the demon when I was trying to buy it for him." Elbowing Dean in the ribs, he gave Ellen his best puppy-dog look. "Can we go back to the Roadhouse and find him a slice? He deserves it."

"Love to, but there is no more Roadhouse. It burned down," Ellen answered. "But if Bobby is kind enough, I can bake one at his place." She raised an eyebrow at Bobby in inquiry.

"If you can find the pans," Bobby started heading for his truck, "Besides, we got to figure out what we're gonna do next. Look for those signs your father talked about. Those demons been in hell a long time, and they are like an all-girls' catholic school being released for the holiday."

Dean looked at Sam. "Shall we?" He smiled at his brother and put a hand on Sam's shoulder, patting it before going to open the . "Besides, you stink; you need a bath." He looked at Sam over the top of the car.

Snorting, Sam reached out one long arm to try and smack his brother over the top of the car. Of course he failed. "I guess we could go get cleaned up at Bobby's place, if Ellen thinks she can make pie for you." He turned to Bobby and Ellen. "You do know just how much this guy eats, don't you? What am I saying? Of course you do!"

So saying, he slipped into the car. "Dude, take me; I'm yours."

Dean slipped in and was about to push the keys into the ignition when Sam spoke those words. Dean's head jerked around, and his fingers fumbled so much he dropped the keys. "WHAT?" he squeaked out then cleared his throat. "Dude!" he said as he grabbed his keys, cleared his throat and started the car. Oh jeeze, the trickster was right. Bastard! But then he'd known this was how it would be. Still, the trickster was a bastard. And so was he, a grateful bastard.

Sam slept for much of the trip back up to Bobby's. The dreams that he had were strange, arousing, and he woke with a hard on and a stiff neck. "We getting close?" he asked, groping under the seat for a bottle of water. "And you'll note that I didn't say, 'are we nearly there yet?' in my kid voice." Frowning, he eased himself around, trying to take the pressure off his dick. "I had these weird dreams, dude. You were in them, and so was our mom."

Dean couldn't help noticing while Sam was asleep that he was aroused. He ached inside to touch Sam, to reach over and stroke him firmly, watching as his brother's face contorted with pleasure. Dean shifted, now trying to think of something that might help him calm down. Witches spewing goo. That damn gator thing they'd fought in the bayou. The body they had to burn in Florida. eventually he thought that it was beginning to help.

Looking over at Sam, he frowned. "Yeah, I noticed you were dreaming." He eyed his brother up and down. "I was in it? And mom? What were the dreams about?" He hoped his brother wouldn't just blow him off the way he'd done lately.

"I don't know, man. It was weird. Mom was there, and she was telling you that she was an angel - that she was watching over the two of us. It was crazy, really." Sam shrugged. "Anyway, I don't know where we were, but you and I were fighting some kind of black dog, and then mom came and assisted. She kind of electrocuted them. It was like she was Susie Storm or something. What do you think of that?"

Dean remembered it all to clearly, and he tried to hide his sadness. "Yeah, well, just a dream, Sam. We always knew mom was an angel, well at least to me." He looked over at him as he pulled the car up to the house behind Bobby and parked out of the way, hiding it. It felt strange, things were different to him, and he was alone in that knowledge. Still, at least he didn't have to worry about dying, and that was liberating.

"Hey, Sammy, what do you think of getting some tattoos?" He raised his eyebrows at Sam. "You know, to protect us from possible possession?" They walked up the stairs together onto Bobby's porch. "Maybe a Hello Kitty for your ass, too."

"You think way too much about my ass," smirked Sam. "But it might not be a bad idea, since that bitch Meg managed to get inside me. What did you have in mind?" He crowded Dean as he followed his brother to the door. The idea of Dean selling his soul to save his life had shaken Sam, and he wanted to keep touching his brother to make sure that he was still real. He bit his lip and put his hand on Dean's shoulder, stopping his progress and turning him around so that they faced each other. "Dean, I..." He didn't know exactly what he wanted to say, so he lifted his hand to touch Dean's cheek, face painfully flushed. "Dean...?"

Dean felt his heart leap into his throat. His heart was racing from the mere touch and closeness of his brother. He he reached up and pulled Sam's hand down, "I know, man," he murmured, his voice soft. "C'mon, I'll show you the ones I mean." Reluctantly, he pulled away and led Sam into Bobby's library, already hearing Ellen cursing in the kitchen. He smiled to himself and tried to tell himself that this was what he wanted. Needed. Things had been set right.

Pulling a book down off one of the shelves, he flipped through it to find the page he was seeking and then pointed out the design he meant. "Here, these, right here," he touched Sam's broad chest, near his heart.

"How do you find anything in here?" Ellen shouted out. "God, it's like ..." Thankfully, Dean couldn't hear the rest.

Looking at Sam, he gave his most infuriating smirk. "And we can get 'Zeppelin Rules'. Well, I can, anyway. You can get Britney if you'd rather."

Snorting, Sam shot him the kind of expression he'd used even as a kid to signal when things weren't to his liking. "I'm good with the sigil for protection, dude, but no way am I gonna have zeppelin tattooed onto my skin. I'd rather get Hello Kitty, and that would make me cry like a little girl!"

"Dude, you are a little girl!" Dean grinned broadly. "Okay, Hello Kitty it is." He walked toward the kitchen after smacking Sam on the ass in passing.

"Dream on, jerk!" Sam grabbed Dean's shoulders and began to massage them. "Jesus, dude; you're tight as a tick. You need to loosen up, or you're gonna break into little pieces." He pressed long, strong fingers into Dean's traps, using that as an excuse to keep touching him. "So tomorrow we'll get the sigils tattooed on, and we can get you your lead balloon or whatever."

Dean shivered a bit as Sam massaged his shoulders. He could swear that Sam was doing this to him on purpose. "Yeah, well, can you blame me? After what we have been through?" He bit back a little whimper that was trying to escape him. "Tomorrow sounds good. The sooner the better for those tattoos. They'll help in the long run." And knowing what he knew, things would be different. This time, they'd stand a chance of winning.

Nodding, Sam patted Dean's back, then slapped his ass, "Come on. I'm thinking that we have weapons to clean and get ready while Ellen rearranges Bobby's kitchen."

He led the way back out of Bobby's study and was about to leave the house to go back and get the weapons when Bobby himself stopped them both. "Okay, Dean. I let it ride while we were battling the demon, but you're gonna tell me how come you knew what was going to happen, before it did, and what the hell was that glowing thing around you when you faced off with ol' yeller."

Dean stopped and looked at Bobby. Lies came easily to Dean, and he'd spent years of coming up with them on the fly. Whenever he tried to plan one, it always failed, but now it was going to be a little more difficult. He swallowed and shrugged. "It was a dream. A sort of warning dream. And no, I'm not pulling a Sam." How could he tell Bobby that his mom had told him that he and Sam were part angel? That Dean had the light abilities, balancing Sam, who had the dark ones, thanks to Azazel. However he was being honest when he told Bobby, "But as for the glow, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Well, I guess we've got to be thankful for your dream, kiddo." Bobby seemed satisfied with his explanation. "Having the drop on ol' yeller made all the difference to the outcome. You should maybe cultivate those kinds of dreams." He turned back to his desk on which he had an old chart that he'd been busy plotting onto a modern road map. "Maybe you two should take a few days break. You took quite the beating in the last twenty four hours. Stick around for a few days. We've got a bunch of demons to hunt down and exorcise, so you need to eat your Wheaties and rest up for the fight."

Dean nodded, relieved that his explanation had worked. Turning, he headed out after Sam. "Okay, clean the weapons and patch me up, if you please?" He rubbed at the dried blood on his face, grimacing. "And then we both need to get some much needed rest. Man, I'm beat." He pulled open the trunk and dug around for his bag.

Heading back inside the house and making their way up the stairs to the bathroom to clean the blood and grime from Dean's face, Sam studied the way his brother moved. Dean had always been a little bow legged, but the way he walked was fluid, graceful, like every part of him flowed. Sam wished of all things that Dean wasn't his brother, so he could touch and be touched without shame. He knew that Dean would be disgusted at the way he felt, the things he wished for. Sighing, he bit his lip and tried not to think about the events that had unfolded during his dream in the car.

Sitting his brother down on the toilet seat, Sam gently cleaned the grime from Dean's face and applied arnica and antiseptic. "Okay, dude. I'm out of Little Mermaid Bandaids, so I guess this will have to do."

"No Transformers?" Dean asked as he tried to keep his mind off the things that were wandering through it. Like how Sam would look all wet. How he was touching him now with such tenderness. How close their faces were, so that Sam's breath tickled over Dean's cheeks. Sam would surely run away if he knew what was going through Dean's mind. And he missed the closeness they'd once shared in another time. Another life it seemed. Dean looked down, flushing, then pushed up to standing, backing off. "Thanks. Why don't you shower while I start to clean the guns?"

"You first, dude; you smell like a polecat. What've you been doing while I was out there in Frontierland?" Sam grinned at him as he straightened up, hand going to cup Dean's cheek just for a second. "Besides, you're shattered; I can see it. You need to get clean and then take a nap. I promise to wake you when Ellen serves up the pie."

Dean had frozen the moment Sam touched him, and now he just gazed at his brother. "Shattered?" he asked softly, but he knew what Sam meant. He gave a nod of understanding and then stepped back, pulling his outer shirt off. "I think I could sleep for days."

"Okay. Don't let me stop you." Sam watched as Dean pulled off first his shirt and then his T-shirt. They'd been naked in each others' presence many times in the past, but for whatever reason today felt different. There was a charge in the air, and Sam could taste it, metallic and strange on his tongue. He seemed drawn to Dean, couldn't look away. He swallowed. "Right, well, I'm going to go clean the guns..." he murmured.

He didn't move.

Dean was about to take his pants off when he stopped. The air around him felt thick. Tingly. His blood raced, and he held his breath for a moment. Time seemed to crawl as he slowly lifted his eyes to the brother who wasn't moving, merely staring. Dean felt the urge to rush him, slam him against the door and just take what he needed. The comfort of being with this brother.

Summoning up a supreme effort, he swallowed and stood up right more, "Dude, the guns ain't gonna come to you. And if you're gonna watch me strip, at least hum some of that cheesy music." He forced a smile, one of those naughty, nasty ones that was calculated to make Sam roll his eyes and walk away.

Sam seemed to wake up from a trance. He shook himself and gave Dean an uncertain smile. He took a deep breath, then turned, a hand on the door handle as he tore his eyes away from Dean's. "Okay. See you when the pie's on the table, man. Just get some sleep. You look like you need it."

As he left the room, he wondered why he felt like he'd just broken something infinitely precious.

Dean slept, until Sam came to wake him and then showered. He dressed himself in his last change of fresh clothing, just jeans and a black tee shirt and went downstairs to sit at the kitchen table, Ellen had cleared the books and dirty dishes away, and now she was serving pie. Dean had a cup of coffee in front of him, and was currently trying to listen to Bobby, who was talking about what they needed to look for when tracking demons. The old hunter had guessed things would ramp up quickly, given that the escaped demons would be feeling like kids let loose in a candy store.

All of that was a mumble to Dean as he thought back on the year that now had never been. He thought about the Christmas they'd spent together, the birthdays, meeting Ashley. Oh shit! That was one stop they had to go make. That was one thing that had to be taken care of first thing. He couldn't let Ashley relive the torment she'd gone through with that demon who had invaded her dreams.

He glanced over to Sam then cleared his throat. "Well, in a few days, we're gonna hit the road. We'll stock up on supplies and then see what it's like out there."

"I'll call you two if I hear anything." Bobby put the Colt down. "And I'll see what I can do to fix this thing."

Dean looked at it, remembering. "Yeah," he said, softly. "Thanks."

Watching Dean sip his coffee, Sam couldn't stop frowning. There was something he was forgetting, or should be seeing. Something... Dean sat there, looking somehow more drawn, more fragile than he had even a day earlier. It was as if he'd been through some terrible trial and come through it battered and heartsick. Sam ached to put his arms round Dean and hold him, so that he could rest, but he knew that his brother's response to him doing anything like that would be sharp and likely painful.

"I'm going up to bed, dude," he murmured. "You coming, or you gonna sleep down here next to the pie?"

"Not that much of a pig!" Though it was tempting, Dean feared that when he woke, all of this might be gone. He got to his feet with a yawn. "Guess I'll head up too." He followed his brother toward the stairs, letting Sam go first. Reaching their room, Dean let out a belch and a yawn, then started stripping. "We should head into town tomorrow, get the tattoos and then some supplies." He dropped down onto his bed, clad only in his shorts.

"You got it." Sam stretched his great length, arms almost touching the ceiling as he yawned. "I feel like I could sleep for days. We are gonna hang here for a day or so and catch up on our beauty rest, aren't we?" He gave a sigh and peeled off his own tee shirt, tossing it into a corner of the room, then dropped down onto the bed to toe off his shoes. "When do you suppose we'll head out? I'm happy to stay here and get rested up 'til the weekend at least."

"Couple of days, I need to make a phone call first," He really should call Ashley. She would probably be freaked out at him calling her out of the blue like that, but she would soon see how necessary it was. Then there was Bubba's brother. Dean needed to save him too, to warn him not to take that trip. There were so many people to be saved it made his head spin. "No rest for the working, Sam. We rest when we're dead," he murmured as he settled down in his bed feeling more than just tired.

The following morning dawned with thick, leaden clouds scudding across an inhospitable sky. Sam peered out of the window at the thick frost that was covering the ground and felt like crawling back into bed. His brother was flat out on his stomach with one hand under the pillow as usual, and Sam wanted to go and lick along the length of his spine. Instead he pulled on his jeans and went downstairs to look for coffee, knowing that Dean would be cranky 'til he got a cup of java inside him.

Dean woke about an hour latter, yawning and running his hand through his hair as he padded down the stairs in the same jeans and black tee shirt he'd worn the previous night. Shuffling in, he made a beeline for the coffee. Sam was cooking breakfast. "Dude, you cooking? That is a dangerous combination." He reached for one of bobby's thick, earthenware mugs and poured himself a drink. "Man, it looks cold out there." He leaned over Sam's back, looking around his shoulder to see what his brother was cooking, "Wha'ya making?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," murmured Sam, smirking. "Omelets actually. Bacon and cheese. You want one?" He flipped the culinary marvel in the pan and reached for a plate to slide it onto. "I figured you'd want feeding. Here."

"Well that's a stupid question." Dean took the plate and sat down, his fork digging into the mess of eggs. "Oh, man, who knew you could cook? Dude, you've been making me eat that reheated stuff for years when you could cook like this?" He took another huge mouthful. "Bad brother."

"You think I'm gonna be turning into some housewife and cooking for you every place we go?" Sam snickered. "Forget that, man. You want to learn how to cook, take a class." He gave Dean a long look from under his eyelashes. "besides, I can only do omelets. All you do is smoosh the eggs up some and put 'em in a pan."

"Hey, I'm the one who always cooked for you when you were a little kid, so don't give me that crap." He took another large bite. "Maybe you can learn to cook with Ellen," he grinned. There was no further talk until his plate was empty, and he sat, enjoying his coffee as Sam ate his own breakfast, mentally running through a list of things they had to do after getting their tattoos. "After you primp your hair and stuff, we can roll, 'kay?"

"My hair?" Sam reached to run his hands through his unruly mop. "What's wrong with my hair?" He tossed a piece of bread at Dean as his brother gave him his patented smirk. Getting up, he stacked their dirty dishes into the dishwasher, then turned to Dean. "You're all ready now? I'm just gonna change my shirt, and I'll be with you." He galloped off back upstairs and returned a few moments later clad in t-shirt, shirt and hoodie.

The pair of them drove into town and began looking for a decent tattoo place. Locating one at last, after Sam consulted the internet, they parked the car, and Dean retrieved the sketch of the design they were going to get tattooed. The inside of the store was small, but festooned with page upon page of designs ranging from flaming skulls to teddy bears, and all the stations in between. A woman emerged from a small office at the rear. She was dressed in tight leather vest that laced up in the front and strained to keep her breasts in. Dean raised his eyebrow and smiled back at Sam, "I think I'm gonna like this."

"Can I help you, boys?" she asked, in tossing her mane of long, black hair back over her shoulder.

Dean thought she looked damn fine, and her body was not even littered with tattoos either. He approached, his sweetest smile lighting up his eyes. "I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam, and it's his birthday. We want to get these put on us." Of course the birthday was a lie.

The woman smiled at Sam, her eyes a bright blue, her lips full and red. "Birthday, huh?" She patted the chair in invitation. "So where would you like it?"

Sam bared his chest and indicated the place where the design was to go. "We're both getting the same thing," he said, giving her a smile as he sank into the seat. "Can you make sure that it's exactly the right proportions? It has to be exact."

"Honey, have no fears." She took the drawing of the amulet over to her photocopier and made two copies, then she sprayed one of the copies with something. Returning to where Sam sat, watching her, she laid the design face first onto Sam's chest and pressed. The result, when she peeled it away, was a perfect replica of the sigil. "There," she said. "How's that? Shall we get started?"

Sam nodded as he inspected his chest in the mirror she held out. "Looks good enough to me."

"Okay," she murmured. "Let's hurt you, shall we?"

Dean was to busy being entranced by the view he was getting of both Sam's chest and hers, nicely pressed against Sam as she started up the gun to create the outline. He moved in closer and took a seat on the other side of Sam. "This is gonna look so much better than that Hello Kitty one you wanted," he teased.

"Oh, I don't know, I think he would have made it look sexy." she looked up at Dean and winked.

"Yeah, Dean. Sexy, you know?" Sam snickered, then yelped as she smacked him and told him to keep still. "Let's not forget that you wanted Betty Rubble on your ass. You could still have that. I think it would suit you."

The design was soon inked in on Sam, and the lady wiped away the blood for the last time, then covered the completed design with a gauze pad and some Bandaids. "There you are, Sam," she said. "Happy birthday to you. And now let's have that very vocal older brother of yours, shall we? I'm looking forward to inking him."

Dean grinned and took off his shirts, handing them to Sam before taking his place in the chair. "You aren't the only one, sweetheart." He looked over at Sam and smirked. "You didn't have any Little Mermaids? Sammy likes those." Turning back to her again, he gave her a long, appraising glance and winked at her. "Be gentle with me."

"Oh, I'll be gentle." She rubbed the design onto Dean's chest and peeled it away. "Nice."

Dean settled back, glancing at his brother, who was prowling around, examining the designs on the walls. He smiled, sending him a rare look of tenderness that made him look like a little boy.

The sweetness of Dean's smile went straight to Sam's groin, and he gasped. There was something about Dean over the past day or so - something Sam couldn't put his finger on, but which made him shiver with lust. He watched, wide eyed as the woman inked Dean's skin. Blood stood out in beads on the smooth skin, and she kept wiping it away as she continued to apply the dye under his skin.

After she had finished and held out the mirror to him to examine her work, Sam was still gazing at him hungrily. In his mind he was licking the droplets of blood from Dean's chest, caressing the wound over his tattoo and pulling him close to kiss him. When Dean met his eyes, he turned red and dropped his gaze, embarrassed.

Dean had noticed the look upon Sam's face, and how he blushed and looked away. He found himself clearing his throat as he asked the woman how much it would cost. The older hunter found he had a suddenly growing hope that things might go the way he wished them to be.

The woman moved behind the counter, and Dean, being Dean, couldn't help but watch her ass and legs in the tight jeans and high heels she was wearing. She'd pulled out a pad and begun writing on it, her mouth tight with concentration. Looking up at them, she smiled suddenly. "Well, as its your birthday, I'll give you a deal. Let's say a hundred and twenty-five for the two of them, shall we, handsome? That's a fifty dollar discount." She looked at Dean, one eyebrow raised.

Dean smiled. "I like discounts." He reached into his wallet and counted out the cash.

The woman handed Dean the receipt and winked at Sam as they turned to leave, and it was evident from her flush that she'd caught some of the tension between the brothers. "Enjoy your tattoos, boys. Hope to see you two again soon."

"Maybe," Dean answered and motioned Sam out, already dismissing her as he studied the way that Sam's shoulders filled the doorway.

For a while, neither man spoke, but once back in the Impala, Sam turned to his brother. "That didn't hurt too much. I would totally get a big snake around my arm or something. It looks pretty damned cool." He peeled away the corner of the dressing over his tat and peered in at it. "So now we're warded against demonic possession, yeah? I hope so. That interlude with Meg was pretty damned unpleasant. I don't know if Jo is ever going to forgive me for what I did to her."

Dean looked at Sam with a frown. "Dude, what about me? You full on shot me!" He started the car, making for another store where Bobby had said they could pick up supplies. "Don't worry about Jo. She knows you were possessed. And ... if she is like her father, a hunter now, she'll forgive you. She must know you weren't in control." He paused, then grinned. "Still, if she has a lot of Ellen in her, she's still gonna kick you in the shins."

"Yeah. I'm counting on the physical harm. That girl packs a mean wallop." Sam smiled lazily. "But I didn't shoot you that time, dude. That was Meg. I'm sorry though. I couldn't stop her, the bitch." He patted his chest where the tattoo remained and shot Dean a sudden, worried look. "You an' me, we're all good, aren't we? You seem different since you woke me up to tell me about Jake, older somehow. Don't wanna find that you're freaking out about me for whatever reason."

Dean cast a swift glance at him, then quickly went back to the road. He flushed, but his voice was normal when he answered. "Why? Do I have gray hairs already? If I do they're all your fault," he teased. He grabbed Sam's leg and gave it a squeeze, "Don't worry, Sammy, you and me, we're in it for the long haul. 'Til the end. We're good. Now lets go find some silver, some candles, salt and stuff." He pushed open the car door and hopped out.

Following Dean, Sam could feel the place where Dean had gripped his leg tingle. It was no good. He was going crazy for his brother. He wondered if he needed exorcising - if this constant craving he was experiencing was the result of some possession or enchantment. Finally, he decided that he needed to say something to Dean, even if it mean that Dean would blow his stack and send him away. "Dude, I think... I may actually be possessed, or enchanted, or something."

Dean stopped and looked at Sam. "Huh? We just got the tattoos to make sure." He studied his brother, a worried look on his face. "Want me to spray you with holy water?"

"Might not be a bad idea," said Sam, grinning unwillingly. "Although it's pretty damned cold. Maybe when we get back I'll drink one of Bobby's holy beers. That'll give me a clue. Do you suppose some witch bitch has cast a spell on me or something? Does that even happen in real life?"

Dean frowned and wondered where the hell all this was coming from. He shook his head, "Beats me, let's just get what we need and get back." He shoved open the door of the store causing a jangle of cracked bells and headed in, going one way while Sam went another, each with their list of requirements. They slowly assembled the supplies they needed, and Sam commented on how ghetto some of the available stock was. Dean shrugged and said they'd have to make do with what they could find.

Returning to the car laden with their purchases, they were soon back at Bobby's. Dean went and got the beers for them while Sam looked over their inventory. Remembering their earlier conversation, Dean slipped some holy water into Sam's beer just in case. Coming back to take a seat beside his brother, he took a deep draft of his own drink before passing the other to Sam.

Of course there was no demonic possession, and Sam didn't suddenly start to smoke as he drank his beer. He threw his head back as he tilted the bottle to his lips and swallowed, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt no pain. "Okay. Looks like whatever it is, it's not a demon. That's something. What else could it be? I haven't been around any pissed off fairies or anything like that."

He could feel the warmth of Dean's thigh pressing against his own, and he wondered what Dean would say if he suddenly did what he wanted, which was to lean in and lick the moisture from his brother's lower lip. That made him suddenly aroused, and he had to wriggle to adjust himself in his pants.

Dean frowned, looking at his brother. "Okay why do you think something is effecting you? Cause you actually got a tattoo to avoid that kind of thing? What?" He shifted to look at his brother.

Now it had come to it, Sam didn't know what to say. His tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth, and all his words had left him. For a moment he sat, willing Dean to divine his problem from the expression on his face or something. Then he shrugged, made an impatient noise and leaned forward to press a kiss to his brother's mouth.

As a kiss, it wasn't so great. Dean turned slightly so that Sam's mouth only caught the corner of his. Sam drew away, muttered, "Goddammit!" and waited for his brother to punch his lights out.

Dean was shocked. He'd been about to look away, because he was thinking Sam was going to pull one of those silent routines on him and not answer. But when lips suddenly caught him, even at the corner of his mouth, Dean's body erupted. His heart raced and he caught his breath as it went from zero to sixty in five seconds flat. He looked at Sam, round eyed, then grabbed his brother by the back of his neck and kissed him, fully on his very surprised mouth. His lips parted the way Sam had seen them do often when he would kiss a woman, and Sam was lost. Dean didn't hold back on his need or hunger, taking his brother's mouth and claiming him. Tongues danced, and Dean made a little sound that might have been triumph as he sank himself into Sam.

For Sam, it was as if the world had come to a complete stop. He could hear his heart pounding, feel the blood racing through his body and Dean, his much loved, long desired Dean, pressing close, his tongue invading him. Sam gave a long, throaty sigh and settled into the kiss, because if this was the only one he would ever have he wanted to make the most of it. His fingers crept up and cupped Dean's face, turning him this way and that as he devoured his brother's mouth, and he let loose a little soft sound as he allowed his eyes to drift closed.

Dean worked his mouth against Sam's making the moment last for as long as possible. He drew breath through his nose, and their mouths clung, slick and wet and silken. His lungs were burning with the need of more air when he finally had to break the kiss. He pulled back slowly, his eyes still closed for a moment before they opened to meet Sam's.

Sam's fingers still cradled Dean's face, and as he opened his eyes he saw his brother, heavy lidded, looking stunned, his lips moist and slightly puffy from kissing... from kissing him! He gave a little whimper. "Dean?" he whispered. "Do you...? Can I...?" He slid his hands down to press against his brother's shoulders. "Want you so bad," he growled. "Always have, but it's worse now."

Dean pushed himself up, away from his brother and grabbed Sam's hand, "Then prove it," he growled, pulling him up and making for the stairs. Pushing open their bedroom door, he shoved Sam in, slamming it closed behind them. He stood staring at his brother for a moment, his chest heaving. "I missed this between us."

Frowning, Sam paused as he reached for Dean to pull his tee shirt off him. "What do you mean?" he asked. Dean looked edible, his body trembling, and his pupils dilated so wide that his usually green eyes seemed black. Sam felt something tighten and flutter inside him, and stalked towards Dean, not caring if he answered or not. Picking Dean up bodily, swung him round and dumped him on the bed, dropping to cover him almost immediately. "Dude, I've been going crazy," he whispered as he pressed his mouth to Dean's again.

Dean bounced upon the bed, shivering as Sam pinned him. Dean grabbed at Sam's shirt, pulling it up and over his head, forcing their kiss to break for a moment before locking his mouth over Sam's again. He was starting to realize just how Jo must have felt when demon-ridden Sam had dominated her. He felt suddenly small and helpless as Sam began devouring him, need and desire so strong it virtually branded his skin.

Wanting to feel Dean's skin against his own, Sam scrabbled against his brother's shirt, finally finding the hem and tugging it up, hearing it rip a little as he tried to get it off. He growled in frustration, trying to get the thing over Dean's head, and when he finally managed that, he threw it onto the floor with a snarl. "Get that thing off," he mumbled, seeking out Dean's mouth again and pressing down as he ran his hands over Dean's torso. "Want to touch you."

Dean heard the little tear and made a face thinking that now he was going to have to buy a new shirt. He forgot all about it a moment later, when Sam went back to kissing him. His own hands were mapping out the body he was so familiar with, running down over Sam's back and down to his ass, gripping him and pressing him close against his groin. Dean groaned and rocked, pressing his desperate cock up against Sam and feeling the answering hardness behind the much-washed denim of his brother's jeans.

Fingers fumbling desperately, Sam tried to get into Dean's pants - anxious to feel him. He let out a little groan as his fingers curled around Dean's cock to grip it and slide it up and down, listening frantically to Dean's hissed out breaths. "Thought you'd be mad," he mumbled as he began to lick and kiss a pathway down his brother's neck towards the newly exposed chest. "You're not mad?"

"Mad for you, yes, at you, no." Dean shuddered, then groaned as his hips lifted to press himself further into Sam's hands. He suddenly remembered that this was all new to Sam. He ran his hands over his brother and turned his head as Sam licked his throat. "Wanted this. Want you, Sammy, always." Pushing Sam back, he started undoing his pants.

"You never said." Sam was still kissing wherever he could, but he lay back and allowed Dean to unfasten his jeans, then press them down over his hips so that he could kick them off. "Always wanted you. Was one of the reasons I had to leave, back when I went off to Stanford. I was always scared that I'd go too far and make you hate me. I couldn't bear for you to hate me."

"That was silly. You knew I could never stay mad at you no matter what you did. Even when you left for college. Dad wasn't the only one who checked up on you." Dean crawled over his brother then leaned down and kissed him.

"Yeah?" Sam looked dazed, his eyes dilated so that only the thinnest ring of color could be seen. His hands cupped Dean's buttocks, and he pulled Dean against him hard and fast, grinding up into his brother and moaning at the feel. "Wanna lick you, suck you, do everything to you. God, Dean, you have no idea how much I want to do to you."

"I think I do. Same things I want to do to you." Dean smoothed his hand over Sam's chest, caressing then leaning down and kissing along his chest.

Sam felt so hard that he thought he might burst. He was trembling now with the need for Dean to touch him, bite him, anything! He slid his fingers through his brother's short hair and cupped the back of his head. "M not a girl. Don't have to be gentle. Bite me, c'mon!" Bending his neck, he sucked a hickey onto Dean's shoulder. "Please, Dean?"

Dean leaned up to him and kissed him harder this time, taking his hands and pinning his wrists over his head. "I know I don't," he breathed, moving down Sam's body, pausing for just a moment to tell him not to move his hands. He kept working his way down, kissing and biting at ribs and abs as he moved down towards Sam's hips. He was teasing Sam. He'd grown to like teasing his brother, loved hearing Sam whimper and whine for him. Loved feeling Sam squirm under his touch and beg Dean to suck him off.

The pathway Dean was taking led inexorably down towards his dick, and Sam was torn between holding his breath and begging for Dean to suck him. He wanted to curl his fingers into Dean's hair, scratch his skin, beg and scream for Dean's mouth on him. It was getting hard to find the breath to curse with. Sam was just about crying with the need to come as Dean strayed to lick and nip at his hipbone. "God, Dean, please..." he whimpered.

Dean merely lifted his eyes, gazing at his brother from under sinfully long lashes. He smiled against Sam's skin then used those perfect white teeth of his to nip at it. He used his hand to grip his brother's stiffness and started stroking, then leaned in, running his lips along the side of Sam's cock. His tongue pressed in the all the places he knew would make Sam squirm as he moved up, licking at the crown. Without warning he suddenly took Sam's cock all the way into his mouth.

Gasping, Sam bucked up into Dean's mouth. He opened his mouth in a soundless scream. His voice seemed to be locked up as he tried to draw breath from air that seemed way too thick for his lungs to absorb. His chest heaved. His body trembled with the intensity of sensation, and he twisted his fingers into the bedding beneath him in an effort to stop himself grabbing Dean's head and shoving it down on him.

Dean shifted to get his body and head better positioned over Sam. His hand pumped in time with his mouth, taking his brother deeper into his mouth with each downward swoop. Unlike the first time with his brother in the now redundant future, Dean was used to it and could suck on him just the way he knew Sam liked best. Now and again he pulled off, hand still pumping as he licked up the underside and then ran his lips along the sides.

Dean's free hand that had been caressing his brother slipped down to massage Sam's sac and rub a finger behind on the silky skin there. When Sam moaned softly and bucked against him, he ventured it down to his ass to stroke around the tight bud there, wanting desperately to sink his cock inside.

Desire had been locked up inside Sam for so long, that it was a wonder he hadn't let go already. He was fighting now, trying to stop himself coming. If this was the only time he'd ever have with Dean he wanted it to go on for longer than a mere minute and a half, but sadly that was definitely not going to happen. He could feel his climax tightening up his balls, and when Dean slid his finger over his opening, he suddenly got a picture of Dean fucking him, and that was enough to tip him over the edge. He sobbed out, "No!" as he came, spunk jetting to cover Dean's lips and chin.

"Awww, fuck it! I wanted it to last," he said softly. "Didn't want it to be over like that."

Dean moaned and closed his eyes as he was splattered. He licked at Sam's crown before wiping his face and crawling up Sam's body. "It's okay, Sammy, because now I can have fun working you back up." Dean smiled as he lifted one of Sam's legs to open him up and started rubbing his finger over Sam's back entrance. "But trust me, I'm gonna make you feel really good."

Swallowing thickly, Sam nodded, then sought Dean's mouth, sucking on it greedily as he spread himself wider for him. Their kiss was long and deep and wet. Sam's tongue slid over every moist crevice, tasting the faint memory of coffee and pie, and the bleach-bitter taste of his own cum. Dean was experienced, he knew that only too well, but he didn't know if his brother had ever been with a man, and the thought made him tremble as a bolt of lust shot through him and began to fill his depleted cock. "Did you ever...?" he murmured hopefully. "With a guy, I mean?"

Dean was about to answer a quick yes when he bit it back. "No, but hey, watched enough porn to know," Dean figured that in a way that was true, because the things he and Sam had done hadn't happened yet, and now never would. Porn watching would explain why he seemed to know what he was doing. He pushed a finger inside his brother, curling it and letting the tip rub against Sam's gland. "Have you?"

"C-couple of times." Sam was biting his lip in his efforts to stay still as Dean found every last tingling place that would give him pleasure. "A full ride only pays for tuition, dude. Doesn't help with the rent. Needed money when I first got to Stanford." He shivered, pulling Dean closer, bit his chin and then licked his way into Dean's mouth. "I pretended it was you, and it wasn't so bad."

"Should have told me, Sammy, I could have sent you the money." Dean spoke softly, his heart melting for the loneliness in Sam's voice. He kissed his brother. "And you won't have to pretend any more." He pushed two fingers inside his brother, working him open.

Closing his eyes against the sudden pain Dean's words gave him, Sam reached for Dean's cock, letting it glide across his fingers, slippery with the juices Dean was leaking. It was thick and heavy, his balls high and full, and Sam knew that Dean was holding himself back in order to give him as much time as he could. He sought for Dean's ear, whispered, "Now, Dean. Want it now," and tugged on his handful, trying to get Dean to reposition himself so that he could impale himself on his brother's cock.

Dean had been kissing and licking at Sam's skin, tasting the salt from his sweat. He could feel Sam's pulse beating strong, and hard and eager for him. He moved, following Sam's eager shifting. "So do I," he breathed as he took his cock in hand and stroked a few times, rubbing his juices over Sam's ass. He positioned his cock, wincing at the pressure against the sensitive head of his cock and moaned a little, feeling Sam's tight opening start to give. Damn but Sam was tight, and the initial push into him made him gasp. Pain gave way to hot, sticky, tingling sweetness, and Dean trembled as he felt the slick walls and heat of his brother.

It seemed like long moments passed before he was able to push all the way inside, but when he was finally there it felt like coming home. He moaned as he held still for a moment, eyes closed the better to drink in the feeling. "Gawd, Sammy," Dean hissed as he started to fuck him, rocking in and out of him slowly.

At first, it hurt. It felt as if he were being torn in half, and Sam tried his best to relax, breathe through it, knew that he was being an idiot, but wanting Dean so much. At last Dean was fully inside him, pressing him almost in half as he adjusted to the tight squeeze of the tissues that surrounded him. The initial pain slowly died away as Dean remained still, and Sam grew used to having him deep inside. As Dean began to move, the burn subsided, and a dull, throbbing ache began, threatening to turn to pleasure if only... "Want you to touch me, Dean," he whispered, reaching to grip Dean's ass and pull him deeper in.

Dean didn't need to be told, he just wanted to make it feel good. He started to move, motions slow and steady. He started fucking his brother, pressing him so that he was nearly bent in half, knees at his chest, Dean holding him with one hand as he pushed up to get more leverage, more movement. He heard the whispered plea from his brother, and he granted his wish, started stroking his cock. His hand curled around it as he pumped it.

This was what they'd both needed. Dean rocked into Sam, moaning as he moved, soft curses whispered out as his face contorted with pleasure. Sam was hot and tight and perfect, and the movement became easier with each thrust, each pull on his cock. He concentrated on fucking his brother, making Sam his, claiming him as his own. He kept fucking him, feeling Sam grow harder in his hand and knowing he was close once again. "Gonna come, Sammy." Dean warned.

"Oh, yeah," gasped Sam. He was finding it hard to breathe again, and Dean had pretty much folded him in half as he plunged in and out of him. "Want you to. Wanna watch you when you do." His eyes drank in Dean's features, watching as effort turned to bliss, and his face contorted. "Dreamed about seeing you like this," he whispered. "Dean, god, yes."

As Dean lost his rhythm and began to spasm his way through orgasm, Sam drank in the sight, clinging to to his brother, so close himself that all he would need was one more tiny push. He could feel the hot fluid pumping into him, and he moaned as Dean arched and drove in deep. A quick hand over the one Dean had loosened, and he was there himself, sending his own sticky libation to spatter against Dean's belly and his own.

Pulling free from his brother at last, Dean allowed Sam to unfold and stretch himself as he dropped down beside him. He lay there, panting, satisfied and content. He turned his head to his brother, his own eyes glassy with pleasure, feeling joyfully that somehow things had returned to normal. They could rewind, make a fresh start and discover each other all over again and that thought made Dean happy. He had a jump on his brother, but he knew Sam was a quick study, and he'd catch up. Leaning over, he kissed Sam gently.

Blissed out, exhausted and as happy as he'd ever been, Sam wrapped his arms around Dean and pulled him down so he could cuddle with him. Dean belonged to him, and somehow that was the most precious thing he could ever have. "I love you, man," he whispered.

Dean closed his eyes and held Sam tightly. "Nothing's gonna take you from me, ever." And he wasn't going to let anything come between them either, no matter what it cost. Hopefully, history would not repeat itself. Hopefully the luck of the Winchesters had changed for the better.

Back: Episode 20 –|– The End

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