My very first ongoing (hopefully) Supernatural fic. Nervous doesn't even begin to cover it.

WARNINGS: Language, eventual EXPLICIT Wincest, gore… probably more to come.

DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING. NADA. ZIP. ZILCH. Except my own delusions.

Sam put the last of their things in the trunk of the Impala before shutting it. He looked up and startled to see Dean next to him; he was sure his brother hadn't been there a second before.

Demons were naturally stealthy beings, after all.

"You sure you want to do this?" Dean asked in a low voice, more gravelly now than Sam was used to. He was speaking to Sam but kept his eyes trained somewhere to the left of him.

Sam didn't even bother trying to make eye contact. He didn't think he'd be able to even if he wanted to try. Dean's eyes were green at the moment, they always were whenever they looked at him now, but the memory of seeing Dean with those cold, inky black eyes for the first time still haunted him.

"Crowley! Show yourself! Or I swear to God, I will hunt you down-"

"Now now, let's not be melodramatic, Moose. Impatience does not become you, does it?" Crowley appeared suddenly, inside the Devil's Trap Sam had set with a chesire grin on his face. The fact that Crowley seemed practically giddy when Sam had been waiting for hours waiting for him to show up, each second, minute, hour, making the hole where his heart used to be ache and burn that much more, enraged him.

But Sam didn't have time to vent his rage by screaming at Crowley, tempting as it might be. The demon could refuse his offer, after all. So he settled for an intense glare that communicated everything he didn't have time for (or a bitch face, as Dean called it, and fuck if that thought didn't feel like a knife in his gut). "Bring him-"

"Done and done," the demon smirked, cutting Sam off in the process. It only grew wider when Sam's glare intensified.

Swallowing the anger that threatened to consume him, Sam asked "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," the demon stepped a little closer to Sam while still in the confines of the circle, "that Dean is alive. Well, technically." He cocked his head to the side. "It's a matter of perspective, really."

Sam was already halfway out of the room when Crowley's words stopped him cold. "That isn't your brother in there."

"What?" Sam hissed.

"That is one of my demons, one of my favorite demons, to be exact. MY Knight of Hell. You see, Dean died with the Mark of Cain still intact. Thus, he is a demon."

"No. No, you're lying-"

"I NEVER lie! You know that!" Crowley actually seemed genuinely offended that Sam would think him capable of that. "Tell you what, go see for yourself. But I guarantee you won't like it. It's not a pretty sight, I'll tell ya that. But you're a glutton for punishment, aren't you?" He mimed looking at a nonexistent watch on his wrist. "Well, I really must be going now. Toodles, Moose." And with that, the King of Hell was gone.

"Hey wait! Crowley!" Sam shouted.

Not even a second later, Crowley appeared in front of him again. "Oh, almost forgot. Tell your egghead of an older brother I will not be requiring his services at this time, so feel free to do whatever your little demonic heart desires. And do keep an eye on him, this time." With one last smirk, he vanished.

Sam stood there approximately half a second contemplating the King of Hell's words before he was once again running towards where he could find Dean.

He was always running towards Dean. All paths lead to Dean, as far as he was concerned. For better or worse…

But when Sam reached Dean's room he found his legs wouldn't move. He stood at the threshold, frozen in place. His hand hesitated on the doorknob, ready to turn it any time, and yet it still wouldn't move. Why? Why couldn't he do something so simple as turn a friggin doorknob?

He was scared of what he would find on the other side of that door, that's why.

Crowley said that Dean wasn't the same, implying that Dean wasn't even remotely human anymore. If Dean-

Dean.

Dean. THAT'S what he would find on the other side of the door, and nothing else. It didn't matter what shape he was in, he was still Dean, right?

And suddenly Sam couldn't stand one more second away from his brother. With conviction he turned the doorknob and stepped through the threshold, mentally bracing himself for anything he might see. But the only thing he saw was his big brother sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the door, as if he'd been expecting him.

The sight of his brother awake and seemingly alright, and most importantly, ALIVE, nearly took his breath away. God, he was alive.

In the blink of an eye Sam was crushing Dean in what could only be described as a bear hug. He clung to him as tightly as physically possible and planned to do so as long as Dean would let him, aware of his brother's dislike for physical contact longer than strictly necessary, but he needed this, dammit. The last time he'd hugged Dean he'd felt the life fading out of him and… he hadn't hugged back.

After a few seconds he realized something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Normally no matter what Dean would hug back just as tight, but now… now he was as stiff as a bored. His body language gave no indication that he was being embraced. And with a start Sam realized something… Dean smelled different. He buried his face deeper into the hollow of Dean's neck as if willing the scent to be a trick of his imagination. But it wasn't.

Dean smelled like sulfur.

Like a demon.

"Dean…" Sam whispered. "Dean, please." He didn't even know what he was asking him for. To hear his voice? To tell him that this was all just a sick joke? To tell him that everything would be alright, even if nothing would ever be alright again? To just be Dean, his brother again? It was all of them, and none of them.

Dean was still unnaturally still. With a hitch of his breath, Sam came to the conclusion Dean wasn't going to move anytime soon. Slowly, Sam released Dean from his embrace just enough that he could see his face. His eyes were closed, as they had been when he'd walked into the room.

"Dean? Come on, answer me. Dean. Please, Dean." He was close to begging now.

And Dean did. In the time it took Sam to blink, Dean had his eyes open and was fixing Sam with a steely glare. Their faces were level so Sam saw it perfectly.

Dean's eyes were black.

"Get. Away. From. Me." Dean hissed in a low and threatening tone.

Sam didn't need to be told twice. He jumped across the room as if burned. "Dean, what… what the HELL is going on?" Sam gasped.

Dean's answering smirk was made all the more intimidating by the inky black pools that were now his eyes. "Heya, Sammy. It's just me. Your big brother, Dean. Something wrong?"

Sam opened his mouth but nothing came out. His mouth was dry. He supposed if he thought about it he'd recognize that he was in shock, but at the moment it was all he could do to keep looking at Dean. To stare at Dean's eyes, specifically. It was as if it were physically impossible for him to look anywhere else.

"Hmm? Cat got your tongue?" Dean mimed looking confused for a second and then made a show of snapping his fingers as if suddenly realizing something important. "Oh, yeah! The demon thing, right? Is that it?"

When Sam still refused to answer he seemed to become irritated. "What, too GOOD to talk to your brother now? Ha. You always were a hypocrite. Probably can't speak because you're too SCARED. The fear is eating away at you about now, right?" The frown on his face morphed into a smile that looked sick and twisted on Dean's face with those eyes. It was wrong, all wrong. "Well, I'll tell you something, Sammy. You should be."

In a raw display of strength Dean stood and grabbed the chair by the bed and ripped the legs off with his bare hands. He stomped on what was left of the chair and ground it beneath his boot, turning it to dust. He then yanked the guns off their displays on the wall one by one and smashed them, crushed them, stomped on them, and tore them apart with his bare hands as easily as one would a pastry. When he was done with that he simply set upon tearing the room apart. He threw the bed, kicked whatever debris was on the floor and threw anything he could find. Through it all he kept his cold black eyes trained on Sam's.

When it was over, when there was nothing left to destroy Dean just stood there glaring at Sam. He should have been panting, but he showed no signs of exhaustion and appeared as cool as ice. "See, Sammy? THIS is what I'm going to do to you if you don't stay the hell away from me. I will END you. I will DESTROY you. SO STAY AWAY FROM ME!" For the first time Dean lost his cool as he shouted at Sam.

And it was that moment that Sam knew what Dean was doing: protecting him.

Protecting him from all the dangers his being a demon could entail. Protecting him the same way he'd been doing his entire life. Always protecting him, even if he didn't want it. Except this time, Dean was protecting him from himself.

"You can stop the whole 'Big Bad Demon' act now, Dean," Sam said and lifted his head to glare at Dean. "I know this is all just macho bullshit to get me to leave you so you can go off on your own."

"Sam…"

"No! This is just more of that 'protect Sammy' shit, isn't it? When are you going to realize I don't need you to protect me anymore?"

"Maybe when you can clean up your own messes without screwing everything up for once? Because you need it? Because I need it? Take your pick!" Dean shouted back, venom clear in his voice.

Sam flinched as if he'd been slapped. "You're right. Maybe you should go. It's probably for the best. You obviously don't need my help now that you're a DEMON."

Dean's eyes had remained locked with Sam's ever since he'd opened them, never once straying for so much as a second. So Sam was able to see the brief flash of hurt cross Dean's features, even with the black eyes, before the same expressionless mask he'd been wearing slip back into place.

Sam didn't know if it was a trick of the light or just wishful thinking, but he could have sworn he'd seen a flicker of green as Dean turned away to leave, and every bit of his resolve crumbled instantly. He grabbed Dean's sleeve and held it tightly between his fingers, like a child silently begging his parent not to leave them alone. His grip tightened as he felt Dean stiffen. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?" He whispered. "Hurting you. Letting you down. Like always."

Dean shook his head, but still did not turn to face Sam. "No. No, you're doing the right thing by letting me go."

"How many times have I thought I was doing the right thing when I was only hurting the ones I care about? Dammit Dean, let me help you this time. You didn't give up on me when I was addicted to demon blood or even when I was soulless, or during the trials. I'm not giving up on you. Ever. It's my turn to save your ass for once, and I don't care what I have to do to do that."

"Sam…" Dean's voice came, low and a little gruff, to Sam's ears and it sounded so much like the old Dean it was music to his ears. "Don't… being with me is a huge risk, and- and I'm not willing to risk your life again. Don't ask me to. Don't make me take that risk. I can't. I just can't."

"Just… please don't go. Dean- I… I need you, okay?" His voice was barely audible, but Dean heard it loud and clear.

I need you.

Those three words rang in Dean's ears. He repeated them over and over in his head, like a mantra, because he just couldn't believe they had really come out of Sam's mouth. Really, that was all Dean needed: to know that he was needed. That his shitty life had a purpose.

And that did it. Dean's mask, the act he was putting on in an attempt to scare Sam away, shattered to pieces. He could never refuse Sam anything, not when he sounded so desperate. Never.

Dean turned to face Sam, and his eyes were the same bright shining green Sam had been gazing into his entire life. Sam's own eyes were suddenly burning and he pulled his big brother into an embrace.

This time, finally, Dean hugged back just as tightly. Sam was so elated to feel Dean reciprocating he wasn't surprised he couldn't stop a few of the tears in his eyes from escaping. He smiled a little when he felt Dean leaving a similar wet spot on his shoulder. Regardless that he'd surely be embarrassed about it later, Sam continued to cling to Dean like a lifeline long past their normal amount of contact.

When they finally pulled apart Sam was pleased to see Dean's eyes were still green. He idly wondered if Dean could control it like other demons seemed able to, and continued to stare before becoming aware Dean was speaking to him. "I'm sorry… what?"

Dean sighed. "Enough with the meaningful eye contact crap. This is all one huge chick flick and it's making me sick. I was saying, if we do this, we do this MY way."

"And what way is that, exactly? Care to share the master plan?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm working on it."

"Well… what do you want?"

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, confused. "What do I want? What do you mean?"

"I mean… what do you WANT? Crowley told me you're off the hook, at least for now. Apparently your 'services are not required at this time', whatever that means."

"Yeah, I remember him saying something like that after I woke up… huh. I dunno… kind of leaves me with the heebie jeebies. Since when does Crowley ever let us off easy? And without it coming back to bite us in the ass?"

"I know, it smells fishy, I smell it too. But… why look a gift horse in the mouth?"

Dean shrugged. "I guess… Either way, we'll find out how he's screwing us over this time later." He paused. "Sam, look-"

He didn't even need to finish his sentence. "Dean, no. We're sticking together, whether you're calling the shots or not. End of story."

Dean gave a long, irritated groan. "Uggghhhh, why can't things be black and white the way they used to be? Before all this angels and demons shit happened? And you used to actually listen to me at least part of the time?"

Sam looked momentarily stunned before a small smile crept on his face. He'd just gotten an idea. Who knows if it would actually work, but he was willing to give it a try. "Dean, why don't we?"

"Huh?"

"Let's do it. Let's go on the road, just us two, the way we used to. No big picture stuff. Just us and the open road. Saving people, hunting things, the family business, right?"

Dean bit his lip. "It can't be that easy. You know it'd never work."

"Why not? Crowley's god knows where. Cas is dealing with Metatron. What's stopping us? And it's not all or nothing. We stay gone only as long as we feel like."

Sam watched eagerly as Dean struggled internally for a few more seconds. He turned to him with, for the first time in a long long time, hope in his eyes. "You mean it?"

Sam smiled. "Of course."

Dean laughed, actually laughed. "Let's do it."

Sam sighed. "Of course I'm not sure. Far from it. I could potentially be making the greatest mistake of my life for all I know." He finally looked up and met Dean's eyes with a crooked, tentative smile. "Let's do it."

Dean's answering smile was all human.

Dean had supposedly wanted to get as far away as possible. His mood seemed to improve the further away from the bunker they got. He'd even sang "Back In Black" at the top of his lungs, and the irony hadn't been lost on either of them (he'd even flashed his eyes black once). Sam had simply rolled his eyes at his big brother's antics.

It was so typical, so Dean, for him to make a joke about a very serious situation, such as his new status as a demon. Dean should really be taking this more seriously… but the more he thought about it, wasn't it a good thing? It meant Dean was being Dean. Not even losing his humanity could change his demeanor; smartass comments, sarcasm, and pop culture references included. The thought made Sam smile, a real smile, like he hadn't in a long time.

Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam shook his head in response. It wasn't something he could easily explain.

They finally stopped for the night in a seedy looking motel after about nine hours of driving, only stopping for the occasional rest stop for Sam. It was strange for him to think that they were only stopping because he needed to, though. Usually it was Dean pushing to stop and take a break. But now that he was a demon, he didn't need that.

Sam's stomach churned.

When they arrived at their motel Sam got out of the car to get their room while Dean parked. When he returned he found Dean standing in front of the trunk with a look of intense concentration on his face. "What's up?" Sam asked, mildly curious.

Dean grit his teeth as he answered. "I don't know if I can open the trunk." For a supposedly all-powerful demon, he looked remarkably like a five year old told he couldn't have dessert.

Sam couldn't take it anymore. All the stress, the tension building inside him for who knows how long, left him as his shoulders slumped. He'd been on edge for days and he just couldn't do it anymore. That was his reasoning as he doubled over with laughter, laughing so hard tears streamed down his face. It sounded hysterical, even to his own ears, but he couldn't stop. Maybe he was finally having a nervous breakdown or a psychotic break or something. He found he didn't care as he heard Dean laughing along with him.

Their first hunt was a Werewolf hunt in a small town in Montana.

There were already two corpses, both killed with their hearts ripped out on the nights of the full moon. Classic Were hunt, and Sam was more than confident in identifying it as so.

So he really should have been more prepared.

They were in the forest where the two victims had been killed, waiting for the wolf to show. Against Sam's better judgement, they'd split up because they didn't know from which direction the wolf would come from. It was dark, he couldn't see or hear his big brother, and that made Sam nervous. Logically, he knew that was ridiculous; his brother was a demon now, but… old habits die hard.

Suddenly, Sam heard a branch snap behind him. Instinctively, he knew it wasn't Dean.

Shit.

He barely had enough time to turn around before the four-legged creature was on top of him, trying to sink it's fangs into his neck and tear his heart out. It snarled and growled and snapped its jaws as it tried to kill its prey, something that should have alerted Dean already. In the scuffle, he lost his grip on his gun with silver bullets in it. And with the wolf on top of him, it was impossible to reach the silver knife stuck inside his boot.

Double shit.

"Dean!" Sam called out. No answer.

Sam only had one thought as he fought the losing battle of keeping the wolf's claws out of his chest.

Where was Dean?

SOON:

'Dean was currently having second thoughts about this whole thing.'

"Uh… yeah. It's kind of my job to save your ass, Sammy."

Sam smiled. "I knew you would."

"Yeah, in a small town in Minnesota four women found dead, strangled, in this past month alone."

"Dean, I-I need… What's happening to me?"

'Then the full weight of what he'd done slammed into him like he'd just crashed the Impala into a wall of bricks at a million miles an hour.'

'He'd just had sex. With his little brother. Oh god.'

All that and more to come in the next chapter folks, if you want it. PLEASE let me know what you think! Please leave a review on your way out! You'll get homemade cookies and my undying love if you do…

This chapter was unbeta'ed… Anyone wanna change that? *hint hint*

Only a little over twenty-four hours to go guys… I'm scared. Someone hold my hand?

Thanks for stopping by! *waves*