DISCLAIMER: Don't own it!

Okay, so if you have read anything of mine before, then you know that I am a complete SAP for happy endings and hiliarious stories...However I though I'd try my hand at something a little different...you know, try to expand my writing abilities. lol. This story is Dedicated to one of my most favourite and fellow Fanfic Wincest writers, Poeticallypathetic (if you haven't read one of her stories you are missing out hard core!) lol, it'll be a couple of chapters, cuz i'm not quite sure how long I want it yet, so ENJOY! and remember that REVIEWS are a writers best friend.


There was no denying it, not while he was curled beside his brother's warm body. Not while the room still smelt of sex. Not while the pain inside his chest was becoming so unbearable…He was in love. And it hurt.

It might not have been so bad if it had been someone, anyone, other than his brother. Dean who had not only been his brother, but his father, his mother, his teacher…his everything. Even his lover, as of the tender age of fourteen.

But it was his brother. And that went against everything that Sam had ever known. Even the first time that he had quickly pecked Dean on the lips and ran away like it had been a game, he had known it wasn't normal. It had continued in similar manners for a couple of years, mostly in the times when Sam had known that Dean was pissed at him…because for some reason unknown to him at the age of eight, his quick kisses made everything better.

At ten, the quick kisses stopped getting him what he wanted, because he found out that what he wanted was something that he couldn't put a word to. So out of frustration he made the kisses less quick and more demanding because he wanted something and he knew that Dean was the only one that could give it to him.

At eleven they had been wrestling over the shower, practically naked with only their boxers on but it was nothing new…except the overpowering urge Sam got when he had Dean trapped between his legs. Everything had stopped when Sam's little hands had rested on Dean's hips and slowly began exploring their way up his torso.

They kept moving up until he cupped Dean's neck and leaned in to lick the back of his ear. Dean had shoved him off faster than Sam had been ready for and he got slammed into the wall with his head snapping back into the drywall. Dean had mumbled his apologies and slammed the bathroom door. Similar incidents had happened in the following three years.

At fourteen, Sam had thrown himself into school and ignored Dean and their father altogether. John thought it was a teenage rebellion, but Dean knew better. Sam had caught him screwing some completely random chick and had ignored Dean until he had finally cornered his little brother.

"What the hell is the matter with you?"

Sam, being thirteen, tried to hide it. "Nothin'"

Dean practically snarled. "There's something the matter, and you had better figure it out fast and get over it before dad thinks something is wrong."

Sam narrowed his eyes, but remained silent.

"This is about her, isn't it?"

"And what if it is?" He replied arrogantly with a what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it look.

Dean had shoved his hard against the wall and had branded Sam's mouth with his own hungry lips. He didn't break the scorching kiss until they were both panting.

"She was just a replacement, Sam, for something that can never happen." He gave Sam a sad look. "They're all just going to be replacements." His tongue darted out to flick over his bottom lip, and he turned to walk away.

But it had happened, two months later to be more exact. It had been amazingly wrong, but Sam wouldn't have had it any other way.

Dean shifted and Sam held his breath praying that his brother wouldn't wake. Dean was never much for cuddling, so Sam took whatever chances he had…and there weren't many.

He settled and Sam tightened his grip on Dean's torso. What would people think if they knew? Or for that matter, what would their father think? What would the almighty John Winchester do if he ever found out that his only children found light in each other in their world of darkness?

Sam shuttered at the thought of their father finding out. For the past five years they had been careful as to not tip their father off to anything suspicious. They had managed, but had their father taken more notice he would have seen the subtle glances and feather light touches. Not to mention the countless times that they had almost been caught necking in the motel beds.

Again, Sam tightened his grip on his older brother's waist and murmured in his ear "I love you, Dean." Dean shifted and Sam stilled, faking sleep, not wanting to get caught saying something sappy that would result in him getting kicked into his own bed.

"Sammy?" He heard Dean mumble. Sam didn't reply and Dean sighed. "Damn geek is such a clinger."

Sam held back his disappointment when he thought Dean was going to pull away…but to his surprise Dean gently pulled him closer and Sam could have sworn that he'd heard what could have been a sound of contentment from his brother's lips.

It was the first time that Dean had actually pulled him closer. Even though it seemed like a massive step towards…something, Sam was hesitant to embrace it. Whenever Dean broke out of his protective shell, there was always hell to pay after.

He had fallen faster than he could save himself, or Dean for that matter who had done everything in his power to save Sam. Lying in his brother's arms like he was sometimes caused him to fly into a blind panic, because things between them just seemed too natural. What they were doing was beginning to feel too normal, when it shouldn't.

The next morning they were sitting at a dingy coffee shop waiting for their father to show up. That was just one of the things that was pissing Sam off though. The second…

Dean.

Or more, the sleazy waitress that he was consistently flirting with everytime she came to refill his coffee cup…and he seemed to be jugging it back even faster than usual.

She let out a shrilly laugh when Dean whispered something under his breath, Sam rolled his eyes, ran his tongue along his teeth and leaned down to pull out of his books. Conversation with Dean would have been boring that morning anyways, considering he was in one of his 'flirt with every bimbo to make himself feel more masculine' moods.

He was just reading on the broad based approach for jury selection when Dean ripped the book out of his hands. "Dean!"

Ignoring his brother's protests Dean looked into the book that Sam was reading. "Dude, you're only nineteen, why do you need to know about shit like jury selections?" He flipped the book closed and looked at the cover. He gave Sam a skeptical look. "What the hell does Forensic Psychology have to do with hunting?"

Sam's look pretty much called him an idiot. "Absolutely nothing. Give it back." He said as he reached for it.

Dean grinned and held it back. "I don't think so, Sammy. Does dad know what you waste your money on?"

Sam's brow furrowed. "No, but why the hell does it matter anyways. It's my money."

"Why do you waste it on stupid books like these? They won't help you on a hunt."

Sam's patience snapped. Dean was always prodding into the things that he did and usually criticized him when it had nothing to do with hunting. "And I suppose wasting your money by giving large tips to floozies that you will never see again seems to be a better way to spend it?"

The tone in Sam's voice had Dean giving Sam his book back. He licked his lips and leaned back into his chair. He remained stubbornly silent, one of his classic moves. He refused to talk, just like always.

Sam took his time putting his book away and then leaned in to whisper to Dean. "Why do you still need distractions, Dean? Or is it that they never were and you were just trying to protect your little brother, like always?"

Dean leaned forward until their foreheads were nearly touching. "I'm not talking about this here."

Sam gave him a disgusted look. "You never want to talk about this. But then again why wouldn't you? You love to talk about things that aren't normal…so why can't you talk about fucking your brother?" Dean's eyes flicked to the side and he hissed at Sam. "Cause that sure as hell isn't normal, Dean."

Dean leaned back and plastered his typical fuck-me smile on his face as the waitress returned to fill his cup…again.

Sam practically snarled at Dean as he got up. "Tell dad I took a walk." He threw his backpack over his shoulder and walked out of the diner.

He kicked the gravel as he walked, or more or less stomped, away from the parking lot. Their dad would be pissed that Sam had taken off and even more furious that Dean had let him.

He stopped walking when he came to an empty side street and sat down on the curb, with his bag between his knees. He opened it and looked at the small collection of books that he had started accumulating a little over four months ago.

Diversity in the Justice System. He flipped to the next one. Human Rights and Civil Liberties. The next one. Criminological Theory. Next. Qualitative Research Methods. Law, Politics and the Judicial System. Forensic Psychology.

He'd been confused for the past year, not really knowing what he wanted. He'd be done school in just under a year and his nerves had been on edge for reasons that he couldn't understand. Then one day four months ago he's been in a library researching on a dead serial arsonist when he'd read up on the trial. It was amazing and something just clicked into place as he searched the library on more information on the Justice System.

Things were changing and there was nothing that Sam could do to stop it. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to.


...And the jury says...?