Warnings: Slight bondage, anal. Wincest. Slightly modified version of 2.08 Crossroad Blues. The last conversation they had is in a motel room instead of the Impala.

This one's shorter than the others, but I think I'm pretty okay with how it came out. Could definitely be better. Let me know what you think. And as always, if you want to give me any sort of prompt for my next story, I'm always open to requests.

Enjoy.

"You never actually considered making that deal, right?"

What the Hell would Sam know? How the Hell was he supposed to understand? Of course he did; it took everything he had to stop himself from doing it. Knowing that his dad sold his soul for him, that he was burning in Hell because of him, it tore at Dean in ways that words couldn't explain. The hole that formed inside him from his father's death grew to swallow him whole, and all that was left was drowning. Guilt, sorrow, anger, self hatred, the whole nine yards. What the Hell was Sam supposed to do about that?

"Dean?"

He spared his brother a glance from the crappy sci-fi flick that was the only source of light in the room, then subsequently turned it off and rolled over, away from him. "Good night, Sammy."

"Dean—"

"I said goodnight." He didn't want to deal with it. Didn't want to face those sympathetic eyes of Sam's that bore down on his soul, made him feel lower than he already did. He couldn't take it. Dean shut his eyes against the dark of the motel room, as if it'd somehow hide him from everything he refused to face. But he knew he wouldn't be able to run away. Sam's sudden presence at his back all but guaranteed that.

He had a hand on Dean's shoulder and was trying to make him face him, "Dean…"

"Get offa me, Sam." but no, of course he didn't let go. Instead, Sam pulled harder and successfully got Dean flat on his back long enough to press their lips together in a rough kiss. Dean struggled out of it, "Sam," but he wasn't having any of that either, and held Dean's wrists firmly at the sides of his head, then went back to kissing his older brother deeply and passionately until they were both out of breath and panting.

Dean's mind was getting foggy then, a familiar tightness already growing in his pants, but Sam made no move to relieve it. He started kissing lightly at Dean's neck, the small areas of his collar bone showing through the hole of his shirt, keeping Dean pinned to the bed.

"This is why he did it, Dean," he said between kisses, his hot breath against his skin sending chills down Dean's spine.

"Really," he gasped a little, squirming at the light sensations in so many sensitive areas, "Really doubt that this is what he sold his soul for." That earned Dean a glare and then Sam was kissing him again just to get him to shut up and listen.

"For us," he said against his brother's lips, "For you," nibbling at Dean's ear, "For me," kissing against the inside of Dean's wrist where he still held fast. Dean was quickly losing his mind. "So that we can keep doing what we were always meant to do."

Breathlessly, Dean replied in short gasps, not even really remembering the point of the conversation anymore, "What's, what's that?" and then Sam was above him, perfectly seated on his hips so that their cocks were pressing against each other through the fabric of their pants. Dean exhaled deeply, almost a growl, and started grinding his hips upwards as Sam looked down at him earnestly.

"Live, Dean." That froze him in place, and he started trying to find Sam's eyes in the darkness. His chest was suddenly tight and he needed that cool hazel to stop the burning in his throat. "We're fighters," Sam continued, moving his hands from around Dean's wrists to his hands and intertwining their fingers. He spoke against Dean's neck, placing more gentle kisses here and there between words, and Dean started a slow rocking again. "We were born to wage through gore and make our way through this mess of a world one bullet at a time. We were meant to live." Sam was driving Dean crazy, and the more he spoke, the longer he was kept from what he wanted.

But what did he want?

"That is worth everything."

What did he want?

"We are Dad's legacy." and oh, there it is.

He wanted his dad. He wanted his family, and he wanted home. But he had all those things, every single one of them, right in front of him. John gave everything he had and more to make sure Sam made it to this point in life. He was the only family Dean had left, and home was wherever Sam went. Home was Sam sitting in the shotgun seat of the Impala. Home was Sam sleeping next to him in a motel room in the middle of nowhere.

Sam was everything Dean wanted. Sam was everything Dean needed. And that was all.

"Sammy," he moaned a little, back arching ever so slightly when his younger brother started sucking at the hollow of his throat. A muffled hum was all he got in response, and there was no stopping the small smile that formed on his lips. "Anyone ever tell you," using the new leverage from Sam's hands being in his, he flipped him underneath him, more than pleased at his new position between Sam's legs, "you talk way too much during sex."

Sam started laughing and Dean took that as an opportunity to free his hands and slide them under his brother's shirt, which changed the laughter to drawn out moan. As he lifted the shirt from Sam's chest, he mimicked the teasing kisses all along his torso and reveled in the way his little brother's breathing got harsh and ragged. He stopped his shirt around Sam's wrists and grinned down at him when he started bucking, urging him forward.

"Easy there, tiger. You got your chance to pin me down. Now it's my turn." and he used the shirt to tie Sam's hands together above his head. Sam kind of froze in disbelief.

"You can't be serious."

Dean smirked and pulled off his belt to tie the shirt to the head post, effectively restraining him, "Oh, I'm very serious. Don't worry, baby brother," he slid his hands down Sam's chest then firmly grasped his hips, "I'll take good care of you."

He kissed him much more vigorously than Sam had before and the younger man immediately started writhing against his restraints. He exhaled hotly, head tilted back, "Dean. Dean, you can't-"

"You brought this on yourself, Sammy," Dean replied between kisses along Sam's jaw, hands keeping his hips grounded on the bed so he couldn't rub against him. They were both so close to bursting through the seams, but Dean had a goal and it wasn't to finish any time soon. "You spent so much time lecturing me," kiss, suck, "So much time telling me to live," nibble, scrape, kiss, "When you should've been telling me to fuck you."

Sam started moaning and gasping and struggling and it was just about one of the hottest things Dean had ever seen. He could've taken him right then and there, but he had a goal, a purpose, and he couldn't finish until he had accomplished it. Slipping a few fingers under the elastic of his boxers, Dean slowly began to finish undressing his little brother.

"You told me to fight, Sammy." He pulled both his pants and boxers off at the same time, but slowly, agonizingly slow, and Sam started pulling against the make shift handcuffs in anticipation. "You told me to live." and then he had his hand wrapped around Sam's harder than usual cock, but gently, lightly, and the younger man was thrusting himself up and down out of sheer frustration and desire. "Well, I'm gonna live," and then he was pushing two freshly lubed fingers into Sam's ass and he groaned loudly, rocking even harder. Dean maneuvered his way back up to Sam's lips and hovered just above them while he worked to loosen his hole, "but only if you come with me."

"Dean," Sam begged, already at his wit's end but Dean wrapped a hand around the base of his cock to hold him back.

"Come with me, Sammy," he urged, and both of them knew that he wasn't talking about sex anymore.

"Anywhere, Dean," Sam breathed, eyes desperate and longing and suddenly the pain in Dean's chest needed more than just those hazel eyes to settle. "Everywhere." He reached up to untie him and Sam's hands immediately took their familiar place around Dean's shoulders, clinging to him. "Always."

And that was all he needed. That was all Dean wanted from life, and that made everything worth it. John's sacrifice made sense, because there wasn't anything Dean wouldn't give to keep his younger brother by his side. Because he was everything.

As long as he had Sam, Dean could live through this Hell for eternity.