(Note: This is an AU. I wrote this back in 2012, so it could be a bit rough around the edges. Sam and Dean managed, barely, to avert the apocalypse and have continued on being hunters.)

Computer monitors went flying as Dean hurtled through them, the force from the demigod tossing him like a ragdoll through the empty warehouse. He really hoped Sam had managed to get all the ingredients from Bobby, because he wasn't sure how they'd take him down otherwise. He hadn't actually intended on confronting the damn thing. All he'd been sent in to do was find the object the demigod of dreams had been cursed into.

"I get it," he commented as he stumbled to his feet with his trademark grin, "you've been trapped for awhile and you're a tad cranky when you wake up. I ain't the best either."

The demigod gave him a disgusted look, his skin dark and glowing tattoos covered every inch of his bald head and probably the rest of his body. They were a kaleidoscope of color, ranging from deep blues to oranges to purples and whites.

He looked around for some kind of weapon and dove for a shotgun that had been knocked out of his hand, but the demigod was faster. Dean gasped as his throat was grabbed and desperately he tried to breathe when unnaturally strong fingers started to crush his windpipe. He kicked feebly, but he didn't even get close. Amethyst eyes were the last thing he saw as he passed out.

What woke him next was the feeling of fingers on his shoulder, shaking him awake. "Hey, if you don't get up you're gonna be late."

"Wha..."

"I even brought you coffee, aren't I nice?" the voice teased.

Dean blinked several times and peered up, seeing…- "Sam?" What was he doing wearing a suit? Sam grinned brightly and handed him a cup of coffee before standing and leaving the room. Confused as all hell, he looked around. He was in...a bedroom? It was a very nice bedroom and he was currently in a king-size bed with some of the softest sheets he'd ever touched. Sounds filtered from down the hallway he could see through the open doorway, probably from the kitchen.

He crawled out of his bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. The floor shifted from carpeting in the bedroom to beautiful, light mahogany laminate. All along the walls, he noted pictures hanging there, of people he didn't know or remember and places he'd never seen. Even more confused, Dean blinked at the bright light of the room he'd come into. It was a huge enough room that doubled as a living room on one side, with a 65" LED tv mounted on a wall and what looked to be very expensive furniture. The rest of the room seemed taken up by an equally expensive mahogany table and chairs.

This dining room area seemed the buffer to the kitchen, where he spotted Sam. The cupboards and drawers were an off-white color, with a black-spotted marble finish and an island table in the center. Tucked away were all kinds of high-tech appliances, including a very large stainless-steel French-door refrigerator. Windows were along all the walls the blinds were open, letting in the bright sunlight to fill the room. He'd never been in a more beautiful area, all light and airy. It was the complete opposite of most of the crappy motel rooms they'd ever been in.

"Uh..."

Sam looked up at him when he tried to speak and failed to find anything of any substance to say. He wandered over to the window and realized that they weren't in an apartment. No, not by any means. They were in a huge house. Not like the house they grew up in that went 'up' with several stories. No, it seemed to sprawl endlessly along the ground, from what he could see. They were in what appeared to be a decent neighborhood, but it didn't seem like the gated type of community.

"Something wrong, Dean?"

Yeah, where did he start? Where was the dreams demigod? Where were they? Why was Sam in a suit? Where was he supposed to go that he was going to be late for?

"Dean?"

"Huh? Oh, well... Where are—"

The sound of a phone ringing cut him off and Sam grabbed his cell, but didn't answer it, just stared at the caller ID. He grimaced deeply, causing Dean's instincts to flare up. Was something bothering Sam? Was it something he could help with or stop? He'd had enough of people pulling Sam's life in five million directions, tearing him apart inside.

"Sorry, I gotta run. We'll talk later." He grabbed a briefcase and was heading for the door before he paused. He turned a bit, looking highly hesitant, and said, "Um...if you've got time...you...might want to call your brother. He's...been calling a lot lately."

Wait, brother?! "O-Oi, Sam—"

"It doesn't bother me, really. It's just..." Sam shook his head as Dean almost jogged to him, trying not to spill the coffee over his hand. "Never mind, you know me."

"Wait, Sam—"

"I gotta go, Dean. I'll see you tonight, though."

Dean was about to argue further, to make him stay, but then something happened. Something he had not, in his wildest dreams, remotely expected. Sam reached up a hand, cupped his face, and kissed him fully on the mouth. Dean was so stunned that when a tongue asked for entry, he let it in. For some reason, it made his knees go a bit weak.

"See you," his brother whispered as they pulled apart. Dean's voice had left him, too stunned to reply, and the door closed in front of him.

What the hell?!

He shoved the coffee carelessly on the counter of the kitchen, not caring that it spilled over the edges, and started hunting for information. He needed to know what was going on. After all but tearing apart the bookshelves in a study he'd found, he managed to find a photo album. What he saw was even more confusing. It was his album, he noted, seeing baby pictures of things that had never happened. He saw Bobby standing next to Ellen, an arm wrapped around her shoulders, and Dean as he was when he was six, standing next to a young, four year old boy that he didn't recognize. What the hell?!

He thumbed through page after page. Halfway through, the pictures started to change until he saw what could only be university photos. Finally! There was Sam! They didn't really tell him anything though, just that they appeared to be close friends. Frustrated, he headed into the bedroom, looking for an address book, and paused when his eyes landed on a photo in a frame sitting on the bedside table.

Dean almost couldn't believe it. It was him and Sam...wearing tuxedos...and kissing. Upon closer inspection he noticed rings on their fingers and with a snap, he realized that there was indeed something heavy on his ring finger. It was a gold and silver band, exactly like in the picture. Sam and he...they weren't related? They were...together?

The phone rang, startling him in the silence, and he found his cellphone on the table as well. The caller-id stated 'Work'. Hell, he couldn't go to work today! He didn't even know where he worked or even what Sam did, but whatever they did, it enabled them to afford really expensive shit.

"Hello?"

"Dean? Where the hell are you, man? You're late!"

"Uh...I'm not...feelin' well today, so I'm gonna have to miss it..."

"Aww, what, Sam keep you up late?"

"Shut up!" Now his nudity this morning seemed to make sense...

"Don't worry, I'll cover for you. Shit, gotta go! Boss is here. See you!"

He thumbed through the names and numbers in his phone once he'd hung up, stopping when he spotted a familiar name. Jessica? Sam's girlfriend? He quickly set it to call and after three rings, a cheerful voice sounded. "Dean! Oh my god, it's been so long! You should keep up with your friends more often!"

Dean managed a shaky laugh and wandered out to the living room, pretending that he wasn't freaking out. Had the dreams demigod done something to him? "Oh, you know. Been busy."

"Yeah, I heard."

"Heard what?"

"About that building you designed. Everybody loves it!"

Building he'd designed? Was he an architect? "Oh, well...thanks."

"How's my childhood friend doin'? Did he win any big cases in court?"

"Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, you know, a few here or there."

"You guys still keeping quiet about your relationship at his work? It's really sad, you know? I mean, I know why from a logic standpoint, he's working with police and all and they're really finicky with that kind of thing, but still! It's nothing to be ashamed of!"

He was feeling more and more at sea with this conversation despite having learned a helluva lot. "Yeah. Say, it's our, uh...anniversary coming up soon."

"It is, isn't it? Gonna have a party or something?"

"Nothing's been decided yet," he lied, gritting his teeth a bit. "It's just...I need your help."

"With what?"

Uh... "Well, you know Sam's a romantic..."

"Hell if I don't know that."

"Well he's got our first meeting and all emblazoned in his mind and I'm a bit too embarrassed to admit I don't remember much at all. I was dead drunk," he ad libbed.

"You were pretty drunk at the time..." she mused.

"So could you, you know, give me a refresher? Maybe it'll give me some ideas for our anniversary."

"Yeah, it's gonna be your, what, sixth year being together?"

Jesus, six years?! He hummed a sound of agreement.

It turned out that Jessica was a bottomless well of information and she never once asked any questions why he was asking. He'd learned that they'd met in college in a party, and he'd been drunk as hell, stumbling into a spin the bottle game. Sam's turn had landed on him even though he wasn't part of it and had, in his drunkenness, kissed him. After that, he'd passed out and Sam had taken him back to the dorms. They'd become friends are that, but it wasn't until six months later when Sam had asked him out on a date in the middle of lunch that they'd become an item. A hot ticket item to hear it told.

He'd also heard, reading between the lines, that his little brother Adam absolutely hated Sam and their relationship, blaming him for leading Dean 'down the wrong path'. The more he listened, the more he didn't like Adam at all. Who the hell was this guy to criticize or yell at Sam?! Adam… Why was that name so familiar…?

By the time four o'clock rolled around, he felt as if he'd at least gotten a handle on what was going on. However, he couldn't find a way out of this dream. It had to be a dream, what else could it be? A dream that was created by that damn demigod. He really hoped that Sam hurried on sealing it again and when he did, he'd be free.

Sam was talking on his phone when he opened the door and he had that look that said he was distressed about something. "No, but— Yeah, but Dean is happy— I'm not—" He pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at it. Apparently someone had hung up on him.

"Sam?" he said, poking his head out of the kitchen.

Sam looked up with a sigh, dropping his briefcase on the table and yanking off his shoes. "Dean. What...are you doing? I thought it was my turn to cook tonight."

Dean looked down at the food he'd made. It wasn't anything fancy, at all, and he hadn't realized they'd had schedules. Shit. "Well, you know..."

But the smile that Sam gave him somehow seemed to make it all worth it. That smile... He hadn't seen it for so long. "I'm gonna hit the shower and change, then we can eat, okay?"

He nodded, barely managing to keep himself from jumping a bit as his brother placed a kiss on the side of his temple and headed back down the hallway to the bedroom. Dean waited a minute before coming around and grabbing Sam's phone, looking at who called last. His mood turned icy when he noticed the name. That supposed 'brother' of his. He didn't care what anyone said, Sam was his brother and his whole damn world at this point. Who the hell was this guy to get in the way of that?

It didn't matter that in this odd 'reality', they were actually lovers and not brothers. His deep feelings hadn't changed one bit and that protectiveness welled in his chest. He reached out and grabbed the landline, dialing the number as he heard the shower start running.

"Dean? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," he replied, affecting a pleasant tone that he didn't feel in the least.

"Great! I've been calling you, but you haven't gotten back. You've probably been so busy, being a famous architect. I was worried though, so that meant I had to call Sam." There was an intense sound of hatred when he said his brother's name.

"Yeah, you see, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Dean told him, sounding at ease as the shower shut off and Sam wandered out in a shirt and loose cotton pants.

There was a suspiciously long pause on the other end of the phone. "What about?"

"What did you talk to him about just now?"

"Oh, that. I just told him that I know that he's hiding your relationship at his work and that it'd be really bad if it got out that he seduced someone's brother."

Dean couldn't stop the fake smile he had, the one he always wore just a second before he was about to hit someone that really pissed him off. Sam noted it and looked a tad concerned. "See, Adam," And here Sam's eyes really widened, "here's the thing. I don't like you calling Sam and telling him shit like that."

"Dean... but I never said I'd do it!"

"I don't care." Here his voice became hard and immobile, harsh and almost cruel. "Don't you dare say a damn thing, to anyone. And don't you fucking call Sam again unless it's to apologize for the things you've said to him and about him. Because do you know? He's the most important person in the world to me and if you want to have any kind of 'relationship' with me, it's gonna have him in it and you've got to accept that. If you don't, well...then I assume this means you don't want to have anything to do with me."

"Dean!"

"I mean it! You don't fucking mess with Sam again. As of right this minute, you're out of my life!" Without waiting for a reply, he hung up and tossed the phone on the counter.

"Dean..."

He looked up at the sound of Sam's stunned voice. His eyes widened when he realized that he looked as if he was about to cry and he hurried over. Not good. Not good at all. He'd never been able to handle it when they were kids and Sam would start crying. "Sam? What is it?"

"I just... I've never heard you sound so harsh to Adam...ever."

He blinked. "What?"

"He's always meant so much to you and I thought... I told myself that it was okay that I was second, you know? That Adam meant more to you than I did. I couldn't, and didn't, want to come between you like that."

"He doesn't mean more to me than you. Listen to me, Sam," he said truthfully, "there is no one in this world that I love more than you."

It was the simple and unfettered truth. Dean loved Sam way too much to ever let him go. He was his world, the one he'd sold his soul to save. He'd always come back for him and Achilles heel or not, that wouldn't ever change. Saying so didn't bother him at all because maybe his Sam needed to hear it just a little more after all that had happened and how he'd been so harshly and cruelly tricked.

What Dean didn't take into account was the changes from reality. Sam reached out, almost too quickly, and he found himself being pulled into a tight hug, a tongue sliding into his mouth. Shit! He'd rather hoped to avoid any more of that until he was free, but with the passionate and almost wild way he was being kissed told him that there was no getting out of it.

It took a very short amount of time, much to his surprise, that he found himself kissing back. There was something addictive about those lips, those strong arms going around his back. He didn't even notice when Sam had picked him up and carried him all the way back to their bedroom, not breaking a mind-blowing kiss as he did so.

It was only when he was set down, Sam shifting overtop him, that Dean was getting the idea. "Sam! Ho—"

"We'll reheat dinner later," his brother whispered, leaving nips and bites along his neck as he divested Dean of his clothes like lightning. "I can't wait, not after hearing that."

"W-What?"

Those eyes were bright with happiness. "I just...never thought I'd hear something like that. I never knew you loved me that much. I always thought Adam was more important."

"Hell no! No one's more important than you!"

"I love you too much to put into words right now," Sam murmured in his ear and Dean didn't realize until too late that Sam's nimble fingers had pulled off his pants and gone straight to his unwanted erection. Why the bloody hell was he aroused?! He gasped loudly when large fingers started to stroke him and those kisses began to trail down his chest. More nips and bites and it was really, really hard to do something other than just writhe on the bed. He reached up and grabbed his brother's shoulders, but was stopped. "Please, just let me pamper you tonight. I want you to just lay there and feel."

"H-Hey..."

But Sam wasn't paying him any attention. He was making his way lower and lower. Dean could only watch half in shock as his brother, no matter what anyone said, had dipped his head between his legs and began to suck. Sure, other girls had done it to him, but somehow it meant nothing in comparison to Sam doing it to him. He let out a shout, fingers diving into longer hair. All higher thoughts had fled and he just reveled in the feelings that expert tongue was invoking. He was sufficiently distracted that he didn't realize what was going to happen until he felt something cold and wet slide between his legs.

Oh hell! "Sam!"

"Shhh," Sam murmured as he leaned up, giving him a besotted smile. "I love you, Dean. I love you." Just as he said that, he pressed on something with two fingers and Dean's spine almost bowed in pleasure.

"Oh fuck!" Shit, what the hell was that?!

Sam abused that spot endlessly. Between that and his tongue, it didn't take long for Dean to reach his peak. "So thick," Sam teased lightly. "Am I not satisfying you every night? I'll have to be more...vigorous."

"V-Vigorous?" he replied, a little nervous. "Uh, no...I'm uh...good." Was there a way he could broach the subject of maybe 'returning the favor' without ending up going all the way?

"No, I don't think you are," Sam replied and how the hell had that man gotten so damn sexy and smooth? His voice was chocolate, like silk running all along his skin and distracting him. A deep kiss muffled his sounds as Sam eased himself deep within his body. Dean let out a shout, the sensation something he had never, ever felt before. Sam didn't wait and instead started to thrust with hopeless abandon.

It was probably the hottest thing he'd ever felt. Even as Dean clutched onto Sam's shoulders and held on, he realized that never once had he had any kind of sex that was as powerful as this. He was drowning in the pleasure and pure joy. Something primal had awakened in him, as if he were some kind of wolf that had found his mate for life. He shouted and his hips thrust into the movements, aroused beyond belief.

"It's like...our first time..." Sam grunted in his ear.

"Fuck!" It was the only word that Dean could utter, voice filled with awe. He felt complete, in all senses of the word. Safe, secure, loved. Was this why the demigod of dreams was so powerful? Was this world, somehow, constructed by the demigod, based all around a deep seated feeling in his heart? It had to be, because he didn't view Sam as anyone different. Even if in this world they weren't brothers, Dean still viewed him as such. Did that mean...that he wanted Sam in bed regardless? Was he really incestuous like that?

It didn't matter, he decided, as they both shouted out their orgasms. No, his feelings hadn't changed at all. The Sam currently lying bonelessly on top of him was the same as the one he'd left, just a little less emotionally scarred.

"Don't you even think about sleeping."

"...What?"

Sam grinned at him in a wolfish manner and his hands gripped Dean's hips. "I'll be ready again soon. I'm going to make love to you all damn night long."

The threat proved true. Dean was completely worn out by the time he was allowed to collapse into sleep and Sam whispered gleefully in his ear about how it was the weekend now when he snuggled up to his bare back. He was lucky if he managed to get anything done and it was this way for the entire weekend. It was as if they were newlyweds or something. Dean was in the middle of getting molested for the millionth time that day, a hand down the back of his pants and a tongue deep in his throat when it happened.

"—Dean!"

His eyes snapped open at the sound of Sam's voice. His face was close, very close, and he couldn't help it. "Gah!" He threw himself backward, falling off the edge of the twin bed and onto the floor. Wildly he looked around, taking in the details of the dark motel room.

"Dean?"

"Sam...?"

Sam sighed in relief. "You okay?"

"Shit, what happened?"

His brother frowned. "The demigod grabbed you when you went to that warehouse. I've been looking for you for the past three days. Bobby and I got him imprisoned again and I've been waiting for you to wake up. It's been about...four hours since then." Dean sat up, rubbing his throbbing head. "Bobby said that you've probably been asleep since he grabbed you and put you in a dream he constructed, supposedly based from some kind of feeling from your subconscious or something. Just that he bases it off something you want really badly, whether you know it or not."

"...Sounds about right," he muttered. He'd wanted Sam really badly and just never recognized it? Was that what he was saying? Hell no, it couldn't be. Denial reared its head, blocking off the uncomfortable thoughts. Bobby wasn't right all the time. He couldn't be.

"So?"

"So what?"

"What was it? What did you dream?"

Hell no was he telling Sam, or anyone else for that matter! "Don't remember," he lied.

"You're lying." When Dean frowned, Sam glared a bit at him. "You think I can't tell when you're lying?"

"It's no big deal. I'm out now, that's all that matters."

"...Fine, I'll let it go for now, but only because we need to go. With everything that I had to do, we made a big scene." Sam stood from his chair and patted Dean on the back as he passed to pack up their stuff.

He tried not to wince, he really did, but it was impossible. Thanks to that damn dream, which was fake, it had to be, it was not real, he was so highly sensitized to Sam's touch, to his very presence. All he could think about was how those fingers had buried themselves in his body, how those kisses were filled with barely restrained passion. The house they'd shared, lived in together. It was all in the forefront of his mind, unable to forget.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, I'm comin'," he muttered, getting off the floor. Shit, what was he supposed to do now?