A/N: Yes, I know you're probably all getting tired of me starting new Supernatural stories before I even get close to finishing one. But I just got this idea a few days ago (from whenever I'm writing this) and I don't know, I liked it. I've come to like a lot of my ideas lately. Plus I just started reading Wincest – I wanted to give it a go and actually liked it – so I wanted to try writing it. And I've always wanted to try writing an mpreg story, and this seemed like a plausible plotline to throw mpreg into.

So, the way I'm writing this story, it's set after (7:17), but if Castiel took away Sam's visions and didn't go crazy from it, like Castiel and Sam went back to normal. Also, in this story, I'm going to ignore Leviathans and pretend they don't exist. This story is souly about demons and the antichrist.

While this chapter is quite fluffy, they will not all be this way. This story will have dramatics, and heartbreaking moments. But there will also be fluff. And sex, hopefully.

If you write a review, I'll put your name on the wall of fame next chapter.

As always, I do not share any views expressed by any characters in this story. And I own nothing in this story.

Please read, review, and enjoy.

A Year Ago

"Did you really think that you could escape me so easily?"

Sam tossed and turned in his bed, coated in a sheen of sweat. He was torn between hiding under his covers for security and pushing them away to escape the heat.

"You have to know by now that I'm not just gonna go away. I'm a part of you, Sam. It's been that way since the beginning of time."

Dean sat up in bed, rubbing the back of his hand into one of his eyes. He groaned, looking over at his little brother in the next bed. "Son of a bitch." He hopped up, stumbling slightly when he got tangled in his blankets, and sat on the edge of Sam's bed. "Sammy? Come on, man. You're havin' another nightmare."

"You did this to yourself, when you defied me. You fought back against me, and put me in here. And for what? Your sweet memories with your brother?"

Sam wasn't responding. His face was contorted in pain, and a small stream of blood began to trickle from his nose. "Sammy! Please wake up already, before you really hurt yourself."

"I may not've gotten my way with my father, and I may not have gotten my revenge on my brother, but I'm going to get my way with you. One way, or another."

"Sam!"

Suddenly, Sam's eyes snapped open, his eyelashes damp with tears. He was trembling, and he could taste blood on his lips. His eyes darted to Dean, who looked a little more at ease. "Dean…" Sam couldn't help the remaining, straggler tears that escaped from his eyes. He turned away from Dean, and tried to sit up, but he hissed in pain, and Dean pushed him back down. Sam grabbed his forehead tight, squeezing his eyes closed. "Hurts…"

"You know better by now. Don't try to move yet." He sighed, noticing Sam was still trying to hide his face. "Sam, really? This isn't the first time we've woken up this way. You don't have to be ashamed of bein' scared. Your nightmares sound freaky as hell."

"I…I don't wanna talk about it, Dean. Okay?"

It had been about seven months since Castiel reappeared and healed Sam's head while he was in the hospital. Even though he hadn't been seeing Lucifer anymore, he'd been having nightmares for the past few months. He always woke up with horrible headaches, and sometimes nosebleeds, which reminded him of when he first started getting powers from the demon blood.

Sam was grateful to Castiel for helping to put him back together, but when Castiel took away Sam's hallucinations, everything else that he'd forgotten got put back into his memory. That included the bizarre crush he had on Dean. When Castiel fixed him, Sam remembered how he'd begun to form feelings for his older brother just before Dean went to Hell, paying the price for saving Sam's life. He knew that it was wrong, morally, but Sam had a hard time fighting it. Dean had given everything to bestow Sam with new life, and in the time he waited for his brother to return – because in his heart, Sam knew that someday Dean would come back – he found that what he was feeling was more than brotherly love.

Sam had dreams about seeing Dean again and kissing him with all the pent up passion he'd been developing. He wanted to hold Dean in his arms as tightly as possible and never let him go again, never let anything hurt him ever again. Even so, when Dean did come back from Hell, Sam had to bury it all down. It was obvious Dean was struggling with the torments of the past four months, and Sam couldn't blame him. He just knew that it wouldn't be a good time to admit his feelings.

Years passed, and there was never a good time. Then, he went to Hell to save his brother, and the world. After that, Sam couldn't remember the love he had for his brother. All those feelings were trapped down in Hell with his soul. The last moment he spent loving his brother was when the memories from the years they spent on the road together came flooding back, and it was enough to help him overpower Lucifer, just long enough to throw himself into the cage.

Even now, after so much time had passed, and Sam felt even stronger than he had before, he still didn't feel like he could tell Dean the truth. He started to ask himself, why would Dean ever be okay with all of this? It wasn't as if his big brother could ever return his feelings, so what was the point?

Sam felt exhausted. With an elbow propped up on the window, he leaned on his hand as Dean was kind enough to drive slower than usual and avoid potholes. Sam hadn't been sleeping enough lately, so it wasn't unusual for him to snooze in the car. It worried Dean, though. All of this stuff with Lucifer was supposed to end when Castiel took away the hallucinations Sam was having. From what he could tell, things were better, but the nightmares were doing awful things to Sam's body.

After they'd been driving for a few hours, Dean had to pull off at a gas station. He lightly jostled Sam, who looked like he was sleeping well, but was uncomfortable at the same time. "Hey Sammy," he mumbled, "I've gotta get gas. If you want, you can go inside and grab some breakfast or something."

Sam groaned, attempting to stretch out his long legs. When his eyes opened to the harsh sunlight, his brows furrowed, and he tried to hide his face in his elbow. "Do you want anything?"

Dean chuckled a little at how groggy his brother was. "I don't know, surprise me." With that, he stepped out and put his credit card into the machine. He watched Sam slowly lumber into the store as he punched in a few things on the keypad. "Poor guy…"

When he reached to push the glass doors open, Sam was a little surprised to see they were automatic sliding doors, and almost fell forward. He laughed at himself then made his way to the pastry section, where he picked out a softball-sized blueberry muffin for himself.

As he stood looking at the selection, wondering what he should get for Dean, something caught his eye. He glanced up at the mirrored camera to see that someone was walking towards him quickly, and it wasn't Dean. Sam turned with an eyebrow raised, thinking maybe this person was just in a hurry to get some mini donuts, until he was shoved back hard into the shelves.

Sam groaned and dropped his muffin, swinging at the other man in a suit. 'A suit… Either one of Crowley's guys, or an angel,' Sam thought. His punch landed on the man's face, but he hardly recoiled from it. As he reached for his gun, on impulse, Sam was grabbed again, this time by his throat, and shoved back once more into the shelves, boxes falling around him.

Sam was struggling to get the man's iron grip off his windpipe, who looked nightmarish with veins popping out of his forehead and his eyes looking crazy, but not black. Through grit teeth, the stranger said, "I'm going to kill him now…" Sam's eyes widened, and he reached out for the other man's face, attempting to push him away. "I'm going to do it now! This can't happen again! Judas cannot be born!" As Sam tried with everything in himself to scream, the angel pulled out its angel's blade, raising it up. "You have only yourself to blame, Castiel, for proving that you cannot deal in situations like-"

Suddenly, another angel's blade was shoved through his chest, and he screamed, releasing Sam, and falling to the floor, where his wings were emblazoned with black on the tile. Sam slid to the floor, holding his throat and gasping for breath as Dean knelt next to him, a bloody angel's blade in his hand. "Are you okay?" Dean asked.

For a moment, Sam said nothing, but only nodded, and looked over at the angel. "What…what was he talking about?" he asked, panting, looking befuddled.

"Why, what all did he say?" Dean asked, glancing back to see that the clerk had ran out of the gas station. He reached forward, taking a bag of mini powdered donuts off the shelf.

Sam's brows narrowed in confusion. "He said…something about having to kill me, because Judas can't be born. And he mentioned Cas."

"Cas?" Dean asked, cocking a brow. "Do you think somethin's goin' on upstairs?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe Judas is the name of the next prophet. But then, why wouldn't the angels want another prophet?"

"And what would that have to do with you?" Dean asked.

"That's none of your concern." The brothers turned to see Castiel, looking sternly at the boxes of cakes and brownies. "Why do humans indulge on these? Don't they know the harming qualities of factory-made sweets?"

"What are you talkin' about? What's not our concern?" Dean asked, standing so that the angel wasn't looking down at him. "If someone attacks Sam for any reason, it becomes my business."

Sam felt a little warm and fuzzy about that.

"I understand your concern for your brother, Dean, but there is nothing to worry about. Anaphel was simply a broken angel, who lost sight of his purpose." Castiel picked up a box, looking at the nutrition facts. "What are calories?"

"Lost sight of his purpose?" Sam asked as he hobbled to his feet. "What are you talking about? Who's Judas?"

The angel narrowed his eyes at the youngest Winchester. "Judas?"

"So you really don't know what Anaphel was talking about?" Sam questioned. "He mentioned you, that it was your fault he was going to kill me."

Castiel sighed. "Please try to understand, Anaphel was out of his mind. Some of the angels have been that way since…I swallowed Purgatory." At this, Dean turned away, walking to a different part of the store. Castiel looked after him with sad eyes, and for a moment, Sam actually felt a little sorry for him. The angel swallowed, looking to Sam again with a despairing expression. "Please, don't let what Anaphel said bother you. I apologize for his attack on you." And as soon as he'd appeared, Castiel was gone, taking Anaphel's body with him.

Sam sighed, picking his muffin off the floor, and groaned when his hand was covered in blood. A perfectly good muffin, gone to waste. Dean would've said that Sam should just ignore the blood, because none of it had actually gotten through the cellophane to his muffin, but Sam didn't like the idea of eating it with blood on his hands. He dropped the muffin back to the floor, wiping the blood on his jeans. Sam was about to walk away, but his stomach tightened, and he sighed, grabbing two other muffins off the shelf and putting them in his jacket pockets.

When he went back outside, Dean was waiting in the car, munching on a Zebra Stripes cake. Sam chuckled a little to see the crème in the corner of Dean's lips, but he didn't say anything about it as he climbed into the impala. Dean didn't seem to notice that Sam was trying his hardest to hold back childlike giggles. "I don't like what happened in there, Sam. Cas was lying, I could tell. He knows something, but he's not going to say anything."

"Yeah, maybe you're right," Sam replied, looking out his window. He couldn't look at Dean and take him seriously in that moment. As he opened his muffin, Dean pulled away from the station, shoving the rest of the cake into his mouth. Sam couldn't help it anymore, and he laughed, saying, "Hang on." He leaned over, swiping the crème from Dean's mouth with his thumb, and Dean never moved, but his eyes followed Sam's hand. Sam chuckled once before sitting back in his seat and sucking the crème from his thumb. He didn't catch how that took Dean's breath away, and how they swerved ever so slightly for just a second.

"Help me…"

It was late, or really early, so much that it was still pitch black outside. Dean groaned a little, his eyelashes flickering open, as he turned over to look at his brother in the other motel bed. He gasped, seeing his brother arching off the bed, blood pouring from his nose, mouth open slightly. Sam sputtered against the blood, making it evident he was having troubles breathing. Dean leapt to his side, shaking him. "Sam! Sam wake up!" When Sam was unresponsive, and the blood kept gushing from his nose, it nearly brought Dean to tears. "God damn it, Sam!"

Finally, Sam took in a large gust of air, and it sounded like it must've hurt his lungs. He collapsed into Dean's arms, and it took him a second to realize that he was being held. "Dean?" His voice came out in a weak whisper. "Was it…another…?"

It really scared Dean that Sam didn't have the strength to put a sentence together. "Don't worry," he said for both Sam and himself, "it's okay." He only let go of Sam for a moment to take his shirt off so that he could use it to clean the blood from Sam's face. "I'm here, you're okay." Sam threw a fit, reaching out for Dean, already hating that he wasn't being held. Dean took Sam's face in his hands. "Calm down! Hey!" Sam's eyes slowly fluttered open. Dean licked his lip, giving a small, reassuring smile. "It's okay."

Sam looked like he was in a daze, but at least his eyes were partly open now. "I can't do this… They're too awful." Of course he was talking about the nightmares. "Please don't leave me," Sam pleaded in a small, weary voice.

Dean swallowed, searching his little brother's eyes. "Sammy, you know I'd never leave you for anything." Sam stared back at him for a few seconds before turning away and trying to hide his face in his arm. "Hey, you don't have to do that," Dean told him, putting hands on his little brother's cheeks again. "You don't have to be embarrassed, okay?"

Sam didn't stop hiding his face, so Dean sighed, lying next to him and pulling the blankets up to his chin, also covering Sam. As he closed his eyes, Dean felt Sam curling up next to him, hesitantly resting his head on Dean's shoulder. Smiling, Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders, pulling him just a little closer. Eventually Sam drifted, and Dean shuddered, looking down at his brother's beautiful sleeping face.

In the dark, Dean whispered, "Do you remember, when we were kids, and you would have nightmares? They were always about huntin' – you'd have a nightmare about a monster Dad and I had hunted the week before. It was always my mistake tellin' you about our hunts, about monsters. You would have nightmares, and you'd crawl into bed with me." Dean chuckled a little, his chest shaking slightly, which made Sam stir. As his little brother snuggled closer, already dreaming, Dean continued.

"You would crawl in the bed, and I would bitch and moan about it. I thought it was uncool to share a bed with my little brother when he had nightmares. Plus, sometimes I was scared that you'd pee on me." The older Winchester laughed quietly again, looking up at the ceiling. He sighed. "But really, as we got older, and you kept gettin' in bed with me, I guess everything about it started to feel bittersweet. I liked the feelin' that I was your comfort, that you depended on me and needed me to keep you safe…"

He paused for a second to swallow, and he looked at his brother again. "But sometimes I got a little scared at how good it felt. By the time I was a teenager, and you would still get in bed with me now and again, I hated it, because I loved it so much. I would lay there and hope that you'd have nightmares, because that meant I'd get to hold you, hear your little heartbeat." He swallowed again, his throat dry, and he half smiled, sighing through his nose. "I wish you didn't have to have nightmares for me to be able to hold you like this, Sammy."

For the rest of the night, Sam lay contently in his arms, so serene. It was as if Sam had never seen death or bloodshed in his entire life, and all he knew was happiness. Dean wished that was the case, and that they could both feel that way. Right now, he felt more than fine, holding Sam loosely in his arms, legs tangled together. He pushed his nose to Sam's ear and let out a brief chuckle before mumbling, "Promise you won't pee on me?"

Dean woke up first the next morning, a smile stretching on his face before he could even open his eyes, because Sam was still there, nose pushed to Dean's chest and his hands curled up in fists on his abs. He peeked to look down at his little brother, who still looked so peaceful. Carefully, he slid his arm out from under Sam in order to scoot down to make their faces even, just to get a better look. Sam grumbled a little in his sleep and moved close again, hands on Dean's chest and his nose pressing Dean's cheek. Dean's breaths became shallow, his heart did calisthenics and his stomach threw a hissy fit. Sam had never been this close to him before.

For a moment, Dean couldn't move, so he just enjoyed the vision of the man he so wrongly loved being right there. He could count Sam's eyelashes, and admired the fact that Sam didn't have freckles like he did. Dean decided to move, and reached out, cupping Sam's cheek with the hand that wasn't sandwiched between them. Unlike his own, Sam's skin was smooth and Dean guessed that he must find time each night to shave. He was just so perfect, and he was right there for Dean to enjoy staring at, like a Van Gogh piece just on the other side of a red, velvet rope.

Dean wanted to cross that rope.

There would be no turning back once he did; Dean knew this. He had made many mistakes in his life, and if this was going to be one of them, he would be willing to pay the consequences. It would be worth it, to finally reach out to that Van Gogh piece, bend the rules just a little.

Dean tempted fate with a delicate kiss. It wasn't his style, to be this gentle and feather light, but this was his little brother. Nothing else would ever be so sacred to him. The kiss was hardly anything, just the faintest brush of Dean's chapped lips against Sam's cut ones. Yet, it was enough to wake Sam, whose eyes steadily and slowly opened. They weren't wide in an animated fashion, or narrowed in anger, just open and frozen. He stared at Dean, who still had his eyes closed for a few seconds before they cracked open and Dean quickly pulled away, just an inch or two. They were both quiet, and Dean wanted to apologize. He wanted to assure Sam that it was an accident, to never happen again. But he said nothing, and neither did Sam. And Dean found that his heart relaxed once more when Sam didn't protest to being kissed again, or kissing back. And when Sam let out the faintest of sighs into the kiss, Dean had finally found the relief of euphoria he'd been searching for.

A/N: What do you think? Like it? Am I doing the Wincest okay? Please tell me, because I'm planning on there being sex next chapter, and if I don't have the behaviors right I need to change them. Don't worry, there will be apprehensiveness, as to be expected when committing incest.

Is that the right way to say it? Committing incest?