Title:

Title: Where Angels Fear to Tread

Author: stopwatchplz
Rating: NC-17. Huzzah!

Warnings: Wincest; dub-con; knife-play – all the good stuff ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to SPN. However, I do own many of the wrongs :D

Word Count: 4, 098

Summary: A follow on from a href"stopwatch-plz./94690.html"this/a.

AN: I blame lj user"katzb101" for this! ;)

…

Dean woke slowly. Pushing through the layers of sleep like satin sheets that entangled his body and his mind as both, pushing upwards through the heaviness.

Finally, he surfaced, and he breathed in, a huge breath that filled his lungs to almost-bursting. Then he let it out in one short gasp.

"You're awake"

Dean turned to the sound, and saw Sam sitting at the other side of the room, in an armchair, laptop open next to him.

"Gold star for the man over there!" Dean said, sarcastically, as he tried to get up. It felt like he hadn't moved in years and the communication between his brain and his limbs had been cut.

"It's gonna take you a while to get used to things again…" Sam said, as he closed the laptop and walked over to the bed where Dean was. He sat on the edge of the mattress and looked into Dean's eyes.

"But it's ok. I saved you" and his eyes flashed fire.

Suddenly, the memories all cam back to him, flooding his sense and tearing out his mind. He didn't know whether he actually screamed or if it was all in his mind, and he didn't care.

Then Sam had him, held his head in his lap, cradled it like it could break any moment, and Dean was lucid enough to think 'Makes a change from all those times I held you' but then it goes.

Sam whispered soft words to Dean, none of them he could really make out, but they tasted of ihome/i and ilove/i and isafe/i. Slowly, Dean became more aware of his surroundings and tried to speak.

"Wha…. What's going on?" he stuttered out.

"Shhh, it's ok. You need to rest" and Sam smiled at him, a huge beatific smile.

Dean's head fell back against the pillow as he tried to process everything that was going on.

iOk, so, he wasn't in Hell anymore. This was good.

So, where was he now? Mental note – ask Sam.

Speaking of Sam… what's the deal with that weird eye-thing going on?i

With that thought, Dean focused and looked at Sam, into his normal hazel-green eyes.

"Umm, Sammy, earlier… y'know, earlier… what was with the eyes?" he asked, carefully.

"Oh, you mean this?" and Sam blinked, and when he opened them again the bright gold-white light shone from them.

Dean squinted at his brother, and a little voice in the back of his head started shouting iThis is Not Good!/i, but Dean had never been one to listen to the voice of reason.

"Sam… what's happened?" he asked, cautiously.

Sam regarded him oddly and spoke "You went to Hell, I couldn't save you then… but I saved you now" he smiled.

"Yeah, Sammy… that's kinda, well, obvious… but how on iearth/i…" he trailed off, suddenly nervous.

Sam inclined his head sideways, as if listening to something just out of Dean's hearing range. Then he turned back to Dean

"As I said before, Dean, Ruby was right… It hadn't gone, it was just lying there, waiting… waiting for me to be ready, waiting for me to come round. Waiting for me to accept it" and he smiled a smile so fucking pure it almost makes Dean cry.

"Dude, what the ifuck/i is going on here? What have you done? What's going on?" he finally broke, the questions spilling over themselves in desperation to be heard as he shouted at his brother.

For a second, Sam looked scared. Panic welled up inside him and he didn't know what to do. He stared at Dean, eyes gleaming and burning and intense.

"I don't know what happened, Dean…" Sam whispered, as he lay out next to his brother and stared at the ceiling.

"I don't… I don't remember much since… since you…" Sam couldn't say it, hand viciously swiping at the single tear that had broken rank and was making its way down Sam's cheek as he sighed.

Dean lay there, thinking, praying, hoping,. What on earth had happened to Sam? And was there a way to reverse it? He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice his brother turn over and throw a long arm over his stomach, face buried deep into Dean's neck.

Dean sighed, as he reached out to take Sam's arm. Something in the back of him mind popped up saying "Isn't it a bit weird being like this with your brother?" but that was pushed back by the iright/i, by the ihome/i that he was feeling at that moment, and sighed. Sam responded by pulling Dean closer.

Suddenly, Dean realised that they were both topless, Sam having discarded his shirt at some point earlier. As they lay there, together, bodies fitting into each other as if they were carved from the same mould. Dean's breath hitched.

"You ok?" Sam said, voice slightly muted by Dean's neck.

Dean hesitated for a second and then he whispered "What happens now?"

Sam looked at Dean strangely, as though being faced with an unfamiliar object that may harm or be friends. He looked straight at Dean – felt like this soul was being dragged out – and the Sam gave a huge grin.

"Now – we go hunting!"

…

The first few hunts back… after… were just insane. Dean couldn't remember much about any of them, save being stood there, back to back with Sam, demon blade in his hand and hacking and slicing anything that came near him with a triumphant yell. He'd even gotten used to Sam using his weird telekinetic thing, picking up and throwing aside any and everything that came near him with screams of conquest .

Every night they'd get back to the motel, tired and bruised and bloody and broken. And each night they would soundlessly strip off their ruined clothes and lay in bed, together, each taking comfort in the other's presence.

…

"Sam…?" Dean said into Sam's neck, as they both came round from sleep,

Sam murmured something that Dean couldn't make out and rolled onto his side. "Didn't say it could be morning yet" he grumbled.

Dean smiled at his brother. He couldn't remember having slept so well, not in… not in a long time. It seemed so… normal for them to be like this, protecting each other in sleep at they do awake.

"Plans for today?" Dean asked, softly.

"Yeah, staying in bed," Sam replied with a smile, and for a second – just for that second – Dean thought that everything was normal, that everything was ok.

But he couldn't keep out the memories coming back to him, invasive and disturbing, of their recent hunts. They had become almost primal in their intensity and, if Dean was honest, seeing Sam hack and tear at anything that got within a mile's radius of him was a little scary. He drew in a breath then let it out.

"Hey, d'you think we should call Bobby?" he asked, softly.

Sam tensed beside him, and his head snapped round to Dean, his eyes burning again with such an intensity that Dean was actually iscared/i. He shrank back.

"Why? Why do we need him? You have me!" Sam hissed, as he snaked an arm over Dean's stomach, raking his fingernails across the taught skin, and Dean sucked in air sharply. God, that had felt iso good/i and that was just iso wrong/i. But everything was wrong at the moment, and he didn't know what to do. He wished he could talk to Bobby.

There was movement beside him and Sam got up, stretching, and Dean looked at his brother, naked save for a pair of light-blue shorts. The morning sun was coming in through the curtains and reflected off Sam's hair, giving him an almost-halo that surrounded him. Dean gasped then, at just how ibeautiful/i his brother was, and he felt so sick at that thought he rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow.

"Dean?" Sam's worried voice came into his head, but he ignored it. He also tried to ignore the heavy hand resting on his shoulder blade, which then dragged its way south, running over knots of muscle that made him wince at the touch.

"Hey, you're in pain…" Sam said, voice taken on a slight manic tone. Dean didn't have time to react before Sam had slunk onto the bed and was now sitting on his back, straddling him, the weight bearing down on him just on the tops of his thighs. He went to protest, to argue, then Sam bent over and started stroking his back, long, heavy strokes that seemed to go deeper than just his skin, seemed to actually touch his fucking isoul/i.

Dean knew he should stop it, knew he should say no, but damn it – he hadn't felt this good in years, if ever, and he found that even if he's wanted to stop it, he didn't think he could. It was almost like he was drugged, or in a trance and he decided, for the first time in his life, to not fight it.

"See, told you I could make it all better," Sam leant down, chest pressing into Dean's back, and it felt so warm, so good, that all he could do was let out a moan. Sam's hands continued to work, going deeper and deeper, and with a start Dean realised he was fucking ihard/i, pressure building up in his crotch that he couldn't stop. Oh man, this was so totally ifucked up/i…

Suddenly, Sam stopped, and Dean almost cried with thanks. His head was going some dark places there and he needed to breathe, needed to rest. Unfortunately, the break was only that, and he suddenly found himself being flipped over like an egg on a griddle, so that he was on his back, staring up at Sam who was still straddling him. Dean looked up and blinked as he looked into his brother's burning eyes and he shut his eyes, as tight as they could go, desperate to block it all out.

But they flew open again when Sam's heavy hands started tracing lines across his stomach, trailing upwards to his chest, fingertips drawing lazy circles there. And again, he was powerless to stop it, powerless to stop his treacherous body arching up into his brother's touch, a low moan escaping his throat as his eyes rolled back into his head.

Just when Dean thought he might actually go mad with the pressure, Sam stopped and withdrew, trailing his nails along his stomach and legs making his shudder and sigh. His eyes fluttered open, and tried to focus.

In one fluid movement, Sam slid off the bed and stood up, and Dean could've sworn that his entire ibody/i was burning, as though lit from the inside. He lay there, transfixed, staring at Sam and a small voice at the back of his head said:

"We're iscrewed/i."

…

"Hey, Sam, I'm just going out for a while, 'k?" Dean kept his tone light as he walked towards the door, grabbing his jacket from a nearby hook. The afternoon sun was slowly sliding down the sky, and the light was turning pink-grey.

"Why?" Sam looked back from the doorway he was standing in, head to one side, eyes burning into Dean so hard that his resolve almost snapped. He steeled himself against the gaze and soldiered on.

"I just fancy some fresh air, y'know? Just going round the block" and he gave an Oscar-winning smile.

Sam walked over to Dean, wrapping his arms around his brother's waist, and pulled him close, kissing him on his forehead.

"You be good" he smiled.

Dean walked out the door with what seemed like agonising slowness, and paused outside the motel door. Looking around, he shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets and set off, across the car lot and onto the main sidewalk.

As soon as he was round the corner, Dean fished into his jeans pocket and pulled out his cell. He pressed a few buttons and sighed with relief when it started ringing.

"Yeah?" Bobby's voice came, hesitant and cautious.

"Oh, thank fuck, Bobby… Shit, man, there's something seriously wrong going on here and I don't know what to do!"

There was a slight pause.

"Dean, is that you?" Bobby asked, stunned.

"Yeah, Bobby, it's me, and I don't have a lot of time here… Something… something's happened to Sam…"

"Where are you?" the older hunter's voice was back to business, and Dean could hear him rooting around for something to write with.

"Blue Rose motel, somewhere… somewhere in Ohio. Shit, I don't even know where we are! I can't remember!" Dean started panicking.

"Hey, calm down, calm down, it's ok – I'll come find you. Don't panic!" Bobby started.

"Oh, it's a bit late to not panic, Bobby!" Dean almost shouted. Something drew his attention upwards to the end of the road, and Dean almost cried when he saw Sam standing there, looking at him. "Oh, ishit/i…" Dean swore softly as he heard Bobby's insistent voice come over the other end of the line. He stood there, like a rabbit in the headlights, caught in his brother's stare. He dropped the phone onto the gravel below and waited for Sam to come over.

"What you doing?" Sam asked, softly, with a slight undercurrent hint of anger.

"I was, uhh, talking to Bobby, y'know? Haven't seen him since it all went under, thought it'd be nice to catch up…" Dean trailed off.

Sam just gave an imperceptible nod, and then stepped forwards onto the phone lying on the floor, smashing it to pieces with his goddamn giant feet, and Dean's heart sank lower. He just hoped Bobby'd be able to find them in time. And that he could help.

Sam looked up at Dean and smiled "There. Won't be doing that again!" and he turned. "Let's get back to our room".

Dean followed in mute agreement, head down and a terrible feeling in his stomach.

…

"Come on, you have to eat!" Sam's voice was insistent, worried, pleading. Dean just ignored him, laying face-down on the bed, the only escape he could get. He tried to block everything out, retreating into his own head for a few moments of quiet.

Which was shattered when he felt a weight alongside him as Sam sat down on the bed. He tensed when he felt those big, heavy hands ghosting over his back, sliding up and down over his t-shirt. He felt like his body was betraying him, acting against his will, and he was so caught up in that feeling that when Sam slid his hand up between his t-shirt and his bare back he shuddered with the sensation. Dean practically iheard/i Sam smile, and a moment later, those hands were sliding his t-shirt up his body, over his head and dropping it on the floor.

Dean didn't have a moment to think before Sam had draped himself along Dean's body, skin on skin. Sam felt so warm, so inviting, that he moaned under the feeling. Sam bent forwards to take Dean's earlobe in his teeth, and was rewarded by Dean letting out a sigh, heavy and weighted.

"It's ok, I'm here… I'll always be here…" Sam whispered into his brother's ear, as he pressed down into bare skin. Dean responded by arching his back, raising his head from the pillow and moaning softly.

Suddenly, Sam drew back. Dean felt the loss, the sudden disappearance of the close-and-warmth of his brother, then felt himself being nudged sideways, being rolled over, oh-so-gently, so that he was on his back, staring up at Sam's brilliant eyes as he straddled his hips.

"Wh…?" Dean started, before Sam bent down and placed a finger over his lips.

"Shh, you don't need to speak…" and Sam trailed his fingertips over the soft mouth, tracing a line under the lower lip that brought a gasp from Dean, dragged out from deep within him.

"I know how to do it, you know." Sam said, suddenly. Dean blinked, willing his mind to catch up.

"Do what?" Dean asked, cautiously.

"Make us together. Whole." Sam smiled, and Dean felt himself spiralling out of control as Sam leant forwards and pressed their lips together. All pretence of having a fucking iclue/i as to what was going on left his head and he felt himself lean forwards into the kiss, lips clashing and bruising as though nothing else mattered. As though nothing else could ever matter.

"We will never be parted again, Dean, never. I'm never losing you again!" and Dean saw for the first time the real madness that had taken over his brother. He might have been the one that was taken the Hell, but Sam had sold more than his soul to save him, and he wasn't sure if he could be brought back.

Sam trailed his hands over Dean's chest, circling them around his stomach and trailing lower. The bulge in his jeans hadn't escaped Sam's eagle-eyes, and he smiled a dark, hungry smile as he trailed his fingers over Dean's crotch.

"Want us to be together." Sam purred, reaching down and popping open Dean's fly. Something in the back of Dean's head shouted at him, but he ignored it. He was too tired to fight anymore, and what's to say this was wrong? Hell, they came from possibly the most dysfunctional family in the world. Normal rules don't apply here, boy. And it was strangely poetic when he realised that the only person he'd ever wanted – the only person who'd ever wanted him – was his brother.

When Sam reached into his shorts and found him hot-and-hard and iready/i, he smiled. Bringing him out into the open, Sam bent down and looked up at Dean through those fucking ridiculously long lashes, and whatever Dean had been thinking flew out of his mind when Sam took him in his mouth, warm and wet and iso fucking good/i.

"Ugh… Sam, Sam… I…" Dean tried to speak but couldn't get the words out, couldn't keep it together enough to string a sentence together. He gave up trying to speak and instead reached down to wrap his fingers in Sam's hair, and thrust himself erratically into his brother's mouth, low groans emitting from his mouth.

Suddenly, he felt himself near the edge, and he thrust harder, back arching off the mattress to meet with Sam's mouth, his hands clasped round his hips, fingernails digging in so deep it should've hurt yet strangely didn't… With a cry, he gave one last thrust which took him over the edge, a headrush that would've made him pass out if he hadn't already been lying down. As the thrill of the climax fuzzed through his body he fell back with a sigh, and he lay there, trying to catch his breath. Fuck, if this was wrong, he didn't think he iwanted/i to be right! He smiled when Sam curled up alongside him and draped an arm across him.

"Hey," Dean started, as he looked at his brother, wondering if he had the same smug-satisfied look on his face. He would've bet he did.

"Hey yourself…" Sam smiled into Dean's neck. They lay in silence for a while, breathing in each other's air, and then Dean spoke.

"Sam… what did you mean about knowing how to keep us together?" Dean couldn't believe he was even asking, but the thought of losing Sam again…

Sam stretched out alongside Dean and sighed.

"I know how to share this… this power." He said, in an almost-whisper. "And I want to share it with you. We could be unbeatable, think about it. No-one would ever hurt us again. And we could destroy every demon in our path!" His eyes had taken on a manic glee, and Dean could feel the hysteria rising up inside him too, bubbling under the surface. He thought for a moment what it would be like, what it would ifeel/i like, to fight alongside Sam, tearing the hellspawn apart side-by-side. He shivered.

"How..?" the question left unfinished.

"Dean, we're bonded by blood, but not with blood. Once we share that, we'll be bonded. Forever. And no-one can separate us!" Sam spoke low and urgent, and Dean realised there wasn't a choice.

He nodded silently, and Sam slid off the bed, returning a few moments later with a wicked-looking athame. Sam hesitated a second and looked down at Dean.

"Are you sure…?" Sam asked, softly.

Dean couldn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded. Sam smiled, and raised the blade to his palm, dragging it over the skin to tear it open, crimson-blood welling in the gash.

Sam leant forwards and put the tip of the blade to Dean's chest, just above his tattoo – their matching tattoos. With almost reverential awe, he trailed the blade across Dean's skin, and smiled to himself when his brother let out a long, low moan. He waited for the blood to bubble up through the tear he had made, and when there was a small pool there he leant forwards, and placed his bleeding hand over the tear in Dean's chest. He felt a skip in his heart as the two connected, then Sam reached down and placed his lips on his brother, desperate and needy and ihome/i

The hunt that night was glorious. No other word came close to it. They stalked their prey together, eyes sharp and bright, sensed keen and eager. They moved as one, each mirroring the other's deadly grace, and for the first time Dean felt what it was like to have ipower/i - deadly, addictive, power. The two of them fought for most of the night, taking on whatever they could find, laughing into the night as they tore enemies to pieces.

By the time they got back to the motel, they were still high from the hunt. Slamming the door open, they fell into the room, laughing and smiling, hands tearing and grasping at each other. They all but ripped the clothes off each other as they tumbled into the bedroom, all mouths and hands and iwant/i.

…

By the time Bobby pulled into the parking lot of the motel it was late. Later than he'd planned to be, that's for sure. Goddamn car had to blow a tyre halfway along the route and he'd had to stop in the middle of fucking nowhere to fix it.

With a grunt, he pulled into a free space, noting the Impala a couple of spaces down, and gritted his teeth. Dean had sounded iscared/i, and nothing got to him that badly, so he loaded up with anything and everything he could carry.

After a few subtle questions with the lady on reception (Marcie, 38, two kids, divorced) Bobby found where they boys were staying. Taking a deep breath, he made his way across the lot to room number 42. When he got there, he paused for a second, and then raised his hand to knock on the door.

What felt like hours passed, until the door slowly creaked open. Glancing around, he pushed the door open, and walked through the door – to see the boys standing together in the opposite side of the room, in the shadows.

"Boys, you're ok! Goddamn it, had me worried out of my imind/i with it! Now come here…" Bobby started forwards, then stopped midway as Sam and Dean turned towards him, and he looked into their eyes – their burning eyes.

"What the… Boys, what's going on?" Bobby sounded shaken as he pulled out a flask of Holy Water, shaking it over them both. When there was no response, he shuddered.

"Oh, there's no need for that!" Sam said, slowly, lazily, a smile playing over his lips. Dean came up behind him and snaked an arm around his brother's waist, leaning into him and resting his head on Sam's shoulder. He looked up at Bobby.

"Bobby, if I were you, I'd get outta here inow/i." and it wasn't a threat, but a warning.

The older hunter took one last look at the two men and shook his head.

"I'm so sorry…" and with that, Bobby turned and left the room, slamming the door shut behind him leaving the sound echoing around the room.

Sam looked down at Dean, pulling him towards him in a firm, but not rough, manner. Reaching down, he pulled his brother towards him, and their lips met in a kiss of fire and desire.

Their eyes met – twin stares of shining-gold brilliance – and Sam smiled.

"We have work to do."