This is set during "Born Under a Bad Sign" but takes it in a completely different, much darker direction. Very mature, adult themes. You have been warned. This will turn out to be DeanxSam. Please let me know what you think. :)

The gun in Sam's hand was shaking. His eyes were desperate, pleading for his brother to help him, to save him.

Dean's mind raced. The words 'if you can't save him…' echoed again and again. There had to be some other way to handle the situation—he just needed Sam to settle down and give him some time to find it. So, he did what he thought would be a reassuring gesture: he knocked the gun out of Sam's hand and grabbed his shoulder. The gun clattered to the floor as he searched his brother's eyes. Something was missing from them, but he couldn't really place what and that bothered him a little bit. But, he put on his best big brother smile. "I can't do that, Sam. I won't do that. You're my brother and I need you." Dean's grip tightened on the muscular shoulder beneath it.

Sam's jaw clenched as he lowered his eyes to the floor and exhaled sharply. A couple firm pats and Dean's hand slid off his arm. The older Winchester stepped back.

Slowly Sam reached down and picked the gun back up. "You'll live," he said softly, turning the piece over in his hand. Dean looked at his brother quizzically when he stepped forward, the pistol gripped solidly in his hand now. "You'll live to regret this." And before Dean could even blink, the gun connected with his face, sending him reeling backwards.

Stunned, he landed face-down. Sam hadn't hit him nearly hard enough to knock him out, but he was definitely seeing stars—and not the good kind, either. Groaning, he tried to raise himself up, but his arms wanted nothing to do with that motion. They collapsed on him, striking his chin against the dirty motel floor.

Rough hands reached under his arms and grabbed him around the chest. He was yanked crudely into a standing position, his back pressed against something solid. That solidarity twitched and dumped him unceremoniously onto the bed.

Life was beginning to fizzle back into Dean's clouded mind. Turning himself over, he was able to witness his brother climb on top of him with a wicked glint in his eyes. A heavy weight settled on his chest. Dean managed to ball up one of his fists and take a swipe at Sam's face. Grinning maliciously, he just let the blow connect. When Dean was left staring in disbelief, Sam grabbed both his wrists and pressed them painfully into the wooden headboard. Quickly he brought a length of cloth from his back pocket and tied Dean's hands together.

"S-S-Sammy... What are ya doin', Sammy, huh? What's this about?" The cloth that was binding his hands together was still firmly held by his brother. Sam was sitting far too high on his chest for Dean to draw his knees up and kick him off. So, instead, he stopped struggling and took a deep breath. Dean decided he would just have to wait for a slightly more opportune moment to take advantage of.

"You should have killed me, Dean," Sam answered in a low, mocking tone. "And now you're gonna live to regret it." He slid Dean's hands to rest behind his head. The younger Winchester leaned down, stopping just a hair's breadth from his brother's face. "You're going to live every day of your life regretting the fact that you didn't pull the trigger." Then he moved past Dean's head to his neck. Sam felt the other man freeze and stiffen as he traced his tongue gently up the expanse of his skin, stopping at his ear.

"Sam, just what the hell do you think you're doing?" Dean finally managed to roar, jerking his head away from his brother's. "You let me go, Sammy or I swear to God I'll—"

"You'll what?" Sam breathed, following Dean's head and attaching his teeth rather harshly to his brother's earlobe. He could hear the older man draw in a hiss of air. "You'll kill me?" he said as his tongue worked its way to the outer shell of Dean's ear. Scooting a little farther down his brother's body so that he was straddling his hips, Sam ran a gentle hand underneath Dean's shirt. He could feel the stomach muscles contract violently, like they could run away from the touch. "You had your chance, Dean. And you didn't take it." Sam's nails ranked sensually down the other Winchester's left oblique. Light butterfly kisses were placed down Dean's neck, and along his strong jaw, disturbing the ever-present five o'clock shadow.

"You don't want to do this, Sam." Through gritted teeth, Dean was determined to get through to his brother.

"Oh, but I do." Sam crooned, still speaking softly in Dean's ear. "So long I've wanted to do this. Well, maybe with not so much resistance, but you get the idea." He continued pressing kisses along Dean's jaw, to his chin and finally to his lips.

Dean's entire body froze. Unable to shake the shock long enough to even turn his head away; he felt his brother's tongue exploring his lips, trying to gain entrance. Dean refused to let him. That wasn't his Sam sitting on top of him, molesting him…there was no way that could be his baby brother.

Frustrated because he wasn't getting his way, Sam's hand withdrew from under his brother's shirt and grabbed Dean's chin roughly. His fingers dug painfully into his skin, pressing into his teeth and forcing his mouth to open. Smirking triumphantly, Sam leaned down and kissed Dean again, this time his tongue gaining the entrance it desired.

That's when Dean took his opportunity. He bit down hard on the inquisitive muscle. Sam bellowed in pain, wrenching himself into a sitting position, hand clasped to his mouth. With a grunt of effort, Dean swung both his legs up and across Sam's chest, one foot knocking him in the side of the head during the process. Using all his lower body strength, he pushed the unsuspecting Sam onto his back and raised himself up.

"You're going to regret that Dean," Sam said, a line of blood dribbling from his mouth. An evil and determined gleam possessed his eyes.

Scrambling to his knees to allow himself some leverage, Dean swung his bound hands at Sam's head. "Am I, Sam? What're you gonna do...kill me?" He landed another blow, bruising Sam's eye.

Sam was laughing. As Dean brought his fists down for another punch, Sam caught them and yanked them down, pulling his brother off-balance. Deftly he maneuvered out from under Dean and flipped him over onto his hands and knees. A fist came around and caught Dean in the side, sending the air whooshing right from his lungs. Quickly, Sam grabbed the bonds around the older man's wrists and secured the lead to the post next to the headboard. "I'm not going to kill you, Dean. That'd be too easy. No, I'll do you one better." Voice dripping with calm, soothing seduction, Sam reached around to the front of Dean's waist and undid his pants button with both hands.

A dreaded realization overtook the older Winchester. Still trying to catch his breath, Dean collapsed his legs so he was no longer as vulnerable to the wandering hands. "Sam, this isn't you. What are you doing? Stop and untie me, Sammy!"

Two hands grabbed either side of Dean's pants and pulled them clean to his ankles in one swipe. "Well, Dean…" he said approvingly.

"I'll never go commando again," Dean muttered, making a solid promise to wash his underwear more often if he got out of the situation alive. "Sam, let's talk about this!" he tried, panic beginning to set in. A sharp smack to his left cheek did nothing to ease the turmoil racing inside him. "You know, any other time this would be okay, but not today Sam. Stop!" He shut his eyes and tried to buck his brother off the back of his legs. He could hear Sam unzipping his jeans behind him.

Sam was hard as a rock. The salacious thoughts of what he was going to do to Dean saw to that quite expertly. Almost quivering with anticipation, Sam licked his hand, coated his dick and shoved it as deep inside Dean as he could go.

Over the years, Dean had been through many agonizing experiences. He prided himself on having quite the pain threshold, but the pain that now raced up his spine and down his legs was like nothing he'd ever felt before. It was white-hot and blinding. Tears sprang to his eyes as he yelled, fingers clenching the sheets for dear life. His cry was long and loud, his whole body one giant ball of rigid tension. Dean felt as if he were being split in half. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, his knuckles starting to turn white. Through the miasma of pain, Dean was going to make sure his brother got as little pleasure as possible. Anger was building in the pit of his stomach and for a brief moment, he wished he had killed Sam.

That initial thrust sent stars flying behind Sam's eyes. The intense heat and enclosed space felt better than anything he could recall. And he didn't want to waste the opportunity—it really was a once in a lifetime thing. Sam pulled out almost completely and then slammed back in, waiting to hear the cry of pain from Dean. When nothing but a muffled whimper came out, Sam doubled his efforts; moving faster, thrusting harder. He moved with primal abandon, a growl emanating from deep in his chest and then finally…it was too much. Still driving hard into his brother, Sam came; the orgasm quite possibly the most intense ever.

Breathing hard, he opened his eyes and withdrew, noting with satisfaction the blood that followed. He leaned over the side of the bed and picked up the gun he dropped after hitting Dean the first time.

"S-Sam?" Dean groaned, his lip split and a grimace seemingly etched into the hard lines of his face permanently. He didn't want to move; he was afraid he'd literally fall apart if he did.

"I told you you'd live to regret this." Sam's voice was smug and menacing as he clocked Dean right in the back of the head with the butt of the pistol. Dean's head dropped immediately into the pillow; he was out cold.

With a self-satisfied smirk, Sam zipped up his jeans. He threw a few things from the room into his bag and stopped to straighten his hair in the mirror. A final look around the room at a job well done and Sam left, slamming the door behind him.

There was so much work to be done and so little time.