Title – Not An Addict

Chapter B 1/?

Rating – R-ish

Pairing – Dean/Castiel, Sam/Dean (non-con)

Word Count – 1,554

Disclaimer - All characters and original plots belong to Eric Kripke, The CW, Wonderland, . No disrespect or copyright infringement is intended.

Spoiler B Seasons 4 and the first half of 5

Warnings – Implied non-con Wincest. Evil, Darkside Sam.

Summary- Sam has gone darkside and wants his brother by his side, but Dean has other ideas.

Author Notes- This little idea wouldn't stay away from my keyboard. I am planning a series here! Wee! Reviews are appreciated muchly.

"I'm not an addict," Sam yelled, turning to punch a hole in the wall behind him. "I'm doing this—Ruby, the demon blood, the training—to protect the world."

"Yeah?" Dean asked with an agitated headshake. "How's that working out for you? Because I don't see the world getting any better, Sam."

"I'm not ready," Sam ground out, flexing his fist to dislodge the fragments of sheet rock clinging to his knuckles. "I just need more—"

"More what?" Dean interrupted, jerking his head forward to dare his brother to respond. "More time? More training? More blood?"

"Yes," Sam said simply. "All of it. Just give me more. I swear I will protect you."

"I don't want your protection," Dean shot back. "I don't needit."

"Yes you do," Sam laughed and rolled his eyes as if his brother had made an idiotic joke. "You're weak, Dean."

"I guess you proved that last week, didn't you?" Dean asked with a huffing laugh of his own. He pursed his lips and cocked them into a pained smirk. "You showed me, huh?"

Regret flashed in Sam's wild eyes, but triumph quickly prevailed. "I only took," he said with a dimpling smile. "What you wanted to give."

"I offered you love," Dean said from behind clenched teeth. "Not a fuck."

"You liked it," Sam taunted, taking several steps closer to his brother. Dean turned his chin up to meet his baby brother's cruel gaze. "You always wanted me, so I gave it to you. And now here I am—all yours."

"No," Dean said firmly, not bothering to push Sam away. The smell of demon blood mingled with PBR beer threatened to gag him. "I wanted you to be my brother, man, never my lover. Never."

"You went to Hell for me," Sam reached out and stroked Dean's cheek, purposefully dragging his fingers over the cut he'd put there himself less than an hour ago. "The Hellhounds came for you because you love me."

"I will always love you, Sammy," Dean said adamantly, but turned his head to shake off the uncomfortable feel of his brother's clammy hand. "No matter what you do, I will love you."

Sam smiled and leaned in for a kiss to seal the vow.

"No," Dean wrenched his face away and shoved at Sam's chest. "Stop it. We're brothers, man. It's the demon blood. We've got to get you dried out."

"Not happening, dude," Sam opened his arms wide in a shrug. "Sorry, but I finally understand my destiny. I can save the world. I can save you. Stay and love me, Dean. I will protect you."

"Okay, Sammy, okay," Dean pulled out his cell phone, dialed a number and held it to his ear. "3916 Pleasure House Road, Onancock, Virginia."

Before he disconnected the call, Castiel stood between the Winchester brothers, his eyes fixed on Dean's tense face.

"Castiel?" Sam huffed, but finally backed away. His skin crawled whenever he stood too close to the angel. "You called your bodyguard? See, you are weak, Dean."

"He is not weak," Castiel explained to Sam seriously. "He is human and his body is frail, but his spirit is strong. He has the strongest soul in existence."

Sam spat on the floor at his feet and made a disgusted sound.

"Can you get me out of here?" Dean asks, grabbing Castiel's arm and holding it tightly. "Angel Express?"

"Don't leave me," Sam rushed forward to beg, his face collapsing into a well-rehearsed expression of need. He'd crafted that exact face to wield control over his brother's love and devotion years earlier. "I need you, Dean."

Dean's hold on Castiel's arm tightens, which the angel is unable to interpret.

"You promised you would save me," Sam accused, forgetting that he'd just called Dean weak.

"Yeah," Dean stepped closer to Castiel. "I also promised to kill you. I guess that makes me a liar. Let's go, Cas."

With a ripple of air, the pair disappeared leaving Sam panting and alone.

The ground beneath Dean's feet shifted, but it had nothing to do with the recently touched down Angel Express. The compulsion to drop to his knees and weep was great. I am not weak. But he had expended his considerable strength in leaving Sam.

Castiel maneuvered out of Dean's grip and took his charge's arms in his own hands, granting him silent support in his attempt to remain stoic and upright.

"I can grant you temporary peace," Castiel said, schooling his voice with gentleness he'd heard humans use at funerals. "Will you allow it?"

Dean hesitated as he tried to summon anger to bolster his strength, but anger was not the emotion that doused his soul with the color of night. It was grief, trapped and unexpressed that threatened to suffocate him. His eyes closed as he ignored Castiel's hands on him, the hands that saved his pride and held him tall. He could not escape Sam's accusations or actions. His brother was his very existence. He could never kill Sam, no matter how many people it would save. What was the world, his life without his baby brother, his soul mate?

"Please," he finally rasped, willing to accept angelic assistance for the sake of a few moments respite from the anguish creeping up his spine. "Please, Cas."

Castiel touched his fingers to Dean's forehead and then caught him as he fell.

Castiel had been an angel of the Lord since the inception of time. He'd seen humans struggle from his place in Heaven, where watching the foibles of humans is considered entertainment. It is akin to humans' affinity for sitcoms and football. Over the millennia, he'd gotten vicariously involved with certain humans. He loved them for their shortcomings and attempts to gain glory.

He'd followed Galileo for his mad creativity. He'd loved the nameless Roman slave boy for his courage and honesty. He'd been enraptured by the innocence of the Russian Princess Anastasia Romanov. But he had never intervened in any of their ill-fated destinies. He had mourned their passing and then greeted them warmly into Heaven.

But Dean Winchester had caught and held his attention since his birth thirty short years prior. There was a purity, a rightness that bordered on divine… although Castiel was careful to keep that blasphemous thought to himself. He tuned in to observe Dean with religious fanaticism, watching impassively as the boy learned to walk and play and love. The one night Castiel had not watched over Dean—the only one he had ever missed—was the night of November 2, 1983. He'd been on assignment; otherwise he never would've missed the house fire that turned the boy's life inside out. The anger he felt toward his assignment and the event he'd missed had resulted in punishment. He had been forbidden from viewing Dean Winchester for the period of twenty human years. The punishment was mild, but for Castiel, it was like having his wings dipped in hellfire.

The very moment his sentence terminated, Castiel frantically searched for Dean. It took great effort to find the boy because the generous soul he'd known so well was bruised and battered beyond instant recognition. Dean was twenty-four and yearning for a missing piece of himself. The angel was frustrated and saddened that the soul he'd come to love was so damaged. He watched as Dean battled spirits and demons alongside his father. He was horrified to find that the boy launched into every altercation as if he wished to die.

After two years under Castiel's intense scrutiny, Dean finally reunited with the missing piece of his soul: his brother Sam Winchester. Castiel watched their interactions with interest. He had never watched Sam before, finding the younger Winchester to be dull in Dean's presence. But that had changed while Castiel was kept away. Sam's soul glowed when it was in close proximity to Dean. There was a codependence of spirit that fascinated the angel. He came to love Sam, if only because he made Dean's soul complete.

The night Dean bartered his soul for Sam's life, Castiel wept… and then started a dedicated campaign to save him from the Pit. He risked further and more severe punishment for his persistence, but it was a risk he was prepared to take. The angel had already decided to die if he could not save Dean. He needed the human with an intensity only surpassed by his love for his Father.

When the Hellhounds came, Castiel wailed his impotency. His grief was such that it triggered earthquakes throughout South America. That got the attention of his superiors, one in particular.

"Brother," Michael had said in his oddly human-like way. "Is your heart so set? Do you love this human more than you love yourself?"

"I do," Castiel had said with great conviction and agony as he watched Dean's body be ripped to shreds. "Save him, Michael."

"He is for you to save, Brother," Michael said. "Find a suitable vessel and then go to him. I give you my blessing and the blessing of our Father."

True to his word, when Castiel found Jimmy Novak to be a suitable and willing vessel, Michael sent him, protected by the full grace of all of the archangels, into Hell to retrieve the soul of Dean Winchester.

~~ TBC~~

A/N: I love reviews. They inspire me to write.