So, this is my first fic EVER and I'm not sure what to make of it. Should I continue or should I salt and burn it in a way that would make the Winchester boys proud? Review and let me know what you think. ;)

Strong hands gripped a pair of creamy white thighs, forcing them open as a long, wet tongue penetrated the body of a young boy lying spread eagle on his bed. His agonized groan deepened in pitch, bottom lip sucked between his teeth as the rosy skin of his tight hole clenched around his brother's talented tongue.

His brother. The boy closed his eyes as he tried to ignore the guilt flowing through him over what he was doing with his own flesh and blood, moaning once more as a wave of pleasure enveloped his sweat slicked skin.

"Shh," his brother whispered. "Hush, baby. You don't want dad to come in here and see you with your pants around your ankles, do you?"

He made a noise that came out muffled from the hand his sinful sibling placed over his mouth, shaking his head to make his answer clear.

"Good boy. Now, hold still so I can eat your little asshole."

His brother placed his mouth over the outer ring of muscle and sucked hard, sliding that wicked tongue in and out, curling it upwards and licking at that spot deep inside of him that made him see stars. It all felt so good that he cried out again, and the older boy stopped what he was doing to smirk at the child in front of him.

"God, you just can't get enough, can ya?"

The boy's eyelashes fluttered. "I-I don't think we should do this now, Dean. Daddy could walk in."

Dean's smirk grew. "I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Him coming in and finding out his innocent little Sammy likes gettin' it good from his fuckin' brother?"

Sam's cheeks reddened in shame, making his brother chuckle at his discomfort. A tremor passed through his open legs as he stared at the boy on his knees at the foot of the bed, hating himself for the arousal that crept up his spine every time he looked into those green eyes. He'd tried so hard to ignore the urges that spread through his body every time he so much as heard his brother's voice, but, like Pavlov's dog, he'd become conditioned to salivating at the mere mention of his gorgeous sibling, making him realize just how screwed up in the head Dean had made him. No matter how late Sam felt it was, he still longed for a way to break free from the love that kept him chained to the boy before him, a way to ensure his normality and his salvation so he'd never have to feel this guilt ever again. But wishes were no more real than dreams, and he was beginning to see that Dean would always be his Achilles' heel, the pebble in his shoe that just wouldn't go away, not matter how hard he tried to shake it out.

Sighing in defeat, Sam glanced briefly to his left before turning back to his brother. "Did you lock the door?"

Dean grinned, giving Sam that lecherous look that meant his cock was about to work some fucking magic in his little brother's asshole, and climbed predatorily up the small bed, blanketing his body over Sam's.

"No," he whispered.

The sound of Bobby's doorbell had Sam shooting straight up in bed, the book he fell asleep reading falling from his chest to rest between his spread legs. Both Bobby and his father were out back bonding over a recent hunting trip, leaving the sixteen year old alone so he could study for his upcoming History test. After the dream he'd just had, he sees now that that might not have been a good idea.

Looking around the room in confusion, he rose from the mattress with groggy eyes and a splitting headache, making his way down the stairs to the front door. He grimaced at the knock that followed the bell, holding a palm up to his forehead as he tried to stop the pulsating ache attacking his brain.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "I'm coming. I'm coming."

Gripping the knob with a weak hand, he slowly turned it and opened the door to reveal a man with spiky brown hair and a face that could put the most beautiful Victoria's Secret model to shame. The leather jacket he wore resembled the one Sam's father used to have when he was a boy, but the piercing green eyes that stared back at him was what inevitably gave the man away, the emerald orbs as familiar to Sam as his own reflection.

Struggling to keep his composure, Sam refrained from letting his jaw drop to the floor in shock, the instant erection he sported bringing back all the shame he could have sworn he'd buried four years ago.

"Dean?"

Dean's nervous smile would have been adorable, had Sam not felt like vomiting all over the living room floor. "Hiya, Sammy."

This can't be happening. Sam couldn't find the words to speak, so he just stood there in silence, putting his hands behind his back so that his brother-no, Dean-couldn't see his fingers twitch with the need to touch. After all this time, that magical concoction of love and lust still bubbled within the walls of his beating heart for the man in front of him, beckoning Sam to give in to what he knew he shouldn't want so badly.

Pushing his sinful thoughts to the darkest recesses of his tortured mind, Sam let the disgust he felt for Dean overshadow his burning love and looked up at his brother with a hatred that made the smile disappear from the young man's face, uncertainty replacing the charming upturning of his full lips.

"You gonna invite me in, Sam?" Dean asked, a knowing expression making his green eyes bore into Sam's hazel ones.

Before Sam could reply, he heard a clash of dishes behind him and turned to see Bobby and his father John staring at Dean in surprise, the plates Sam's dad once held in his hand nothing but a broken mess on the ground beneath him. John's shock transformed into a glare that made the hairs on the back of Sam's neck stand up, but Bobby's face held a certain pain that made the young boy think he missed Dean more than he cared to admit.

"What the hell are you doing here?" John asked.

Maintaining eye contact with Sam, Dean replied, "I'm here to see my little brother. Is that a crime?"

"You little-"

"Now, everybody just calm down," Bobby interrupted, extending his palms outwards. "I'll be damned if I'm going to allow a physical altercation in my house, especially when it involves a father and his child."

"I told you that you could speak to me over the phone whenever you wanted, Dean," John said, ignoring his friend. "But coming here is highly inappropriate and you know it. I can't tell you how many times I've stressed that this could never happen."

Bobby noticed John's voice rising in anger. "John," he warned.

"No! I want to know what he's doing here and I want to know right now!"

When Dean didn't budge, or take his eyes off his brother, John strode over and grabbed the collar of Dean's jacket with both hands, shaking his son hard enough to hurt.

"Answer me, goddammit!"

Dean smiled bitterly at his father, the pitiful look on his face almost making Sam feel sorry for him. "Rosa's dead."

Sam's brows furrowed in confusion. Who the fuck is Rosa?

John let go of Dean and sank against the doorway, exchanging bewildered glances with Bobby. "Oh, no."

Dean looked at Sam before dragging his gaze back to his father. "I see coming here was a big mistake. I'll just leave, then."

Dean shot Sam a longing look that the younger boy involuntarily reciprocated and was about to walk out the door when a firm 'no' came from Bobby's direction. All heads turned to look at the gruff hunter, just as perplexed as he was about his adamant refusal.

"You're not going anywhere, kid. Like it or not, this boy is family, John, and family don't turn on their blood."

John came up to Sam and put a protective arm around his shoulders, drawing him in close and glaring daggers at his oldest son. "I'm sure some exceptions can be made."

"Don't do this now," Bobby said. "Not in front of the boy. Dean, get in here. You, John, and I are going to have a little chat and Sam is going to go to his room."

John shot an incredulous look Bobby's way. "You cannot be fucking serious."

Bobby's face contorted in bewildered disgust as he walked up to where John stood beside Sam, looking as if he was trying to fight off anger. "This is my house and you'll do what you're told, boy."

For a moment, Sam thought John was going to argue, but when the grip on his body loosened, he knew his father was defeated.

Sighing, John said, "Alright" and made his way to the junkyard in the back, waiting for Bobby and Dean to follow.

"Go to your room, Sam," Bobby said, breaking the silence that came over them when John left. "I'll come and get you when supper's ready."

"But-"

Bobby's no-nonsense expression made whatever Sam was going to say turn to ash in his mouth, and with his head hanging down, ascended the stairs to his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

John's voice boomed like thunder throughout the entire house, shaking the very foundations with its brutal intensity.

"This is insane!" he screamed, his declaration making Sam's head rise from the book he was reading. Standing up, he slowly crept up to his bedroom door and cracked it open, stepping out just enough to where he could spy on the fight breaking out downstairs.

"How can you sit there and say all of this, John?" Bobby roared. "He's your kid!"

"I wish that bastard had never been born! I could have killed him for what he did to Sam. How can you of all people allow him in this house after everything he has done?"

"How can you not? He's your own flesh and blood."

John laughed. "You wanna talk about flesh and blood? Yeah, let's do that. Let's talk about the night I walked in and found Dean with his filthy little prick buried balls deep in my youngest son's ass."

"I don't wanna hear this," Bobby muttered, falling into a chair.

"Tough shit!" John retorted hotly, hunching over to yell at his best friend. "You weren't there, Bobby. You didn't hear the sound of it all, the moaning and groaning he did, the filth he spewed from his lips, Sam's helpless whimpering as his underdeveloped body was given pleasure it had no business receiving. You didn't see the look on that poor boy's face when he was getting fucked by his big brother. You didn't see his eyes and mouth wide open, his body completely rigid, the surprised gasps that made him sound like he was struggling to breathe. If you could have been there to see just what went down, there's no fucking way you would dare step up to me and tell me I'm being a rotten human being for wanting to abandon that pervert a second time. He molested his little brother, dammit! He's toxic and I want him gone. Do you hear me? Gone!"

Bobby stared at John so long Sam thought for sure that he would acquiesce to John's demands. But after what felt like forever, Bobby instead rose and slowly came up to John, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"Do you honestly think I didn't feel the same way you did when all of this shit first went down?" he asked, his voice so quiet, Sam could barely hear him. "Don't you think I would have strangled him too, if I'd had the chance? You're not the only one who loves Sam, goddammit! I love him too! But as much as you don't want to admit it, Dean is still the same little boy who used to come to my house and eat up all of my apple pie, the one who took care of Sam when you were too busy tracking down a demon we all knew you'd never catch, the one who did every single fucking thing you asked him to because he looked up to you like a son should and the one who comforted his mother while you were off doing god knows what. He was the one who constantly picked up your slack, and the one who I always knew would grow up to be more of a man than you'd ever be. He may have done wrong, but he is still the closest thing I've ever had to a son alongside Samuel and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you throw him away!"

Tears were falling down Sam's cheeks by the time Bobby was done, the angry and tortured tone he'd developed by the end of his tirade echoing loudly in Sam's ears. Going back to his room and shutting the door, he fell on his bed and cried harder than he'd ever allowed himself to, bitterness and befuddlement rattling his very core. He hated his brother for what he'd done, for taking away his innocence long before he'd had the mental capacity to refuse Dean's lascivious advances. He hated the molestation, the virginity that should have been his to give away, and all of the memories that still clung to the walls of his mind, the good merging with the bad to leave Sam with a confusion so great, he was sure he'd end up insane before the last breath of life left his body.

Dean was here. He still couldn't get over it, and what was worse, he didn't know how to feel about it all. He hated him, but he also loved him, and that love wouldn't go away just because of the things he made Sam do in the dark. It was still there because his brother was the one who practically raised him for the first twelve years of his life, and that was something Sam couldn't just forget.

A knock on Sam's door made him jump in surprise, tension straining his muscles as he thought of what he'd do if Dean was on the other end. A sigh of relief fell from his lips as Bobby entered, followed by a gasp as he tried to hold in sniffles he didn't want the old man to see.

Silence fell like a dark cloud over Sam and Bobby as they stared each other down, neither one wanting to start a conversation they both dreaded having. When it all became too much, Sam's shoulders slumped in defeat as he bowed his head, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his black sweater.

"I can't do this, Bobby. I thought all of this was behind me and now I see that it's not and-" Sam interrupted himself to let out a humorless laugh- "I still love him."

Bobby nodded. "I do too, kiddo . . . which is why I have to let him stay. He doesn't have anywhere else to go and I refuse to just put him out on the street. I'm so sorry, Sam. I feel like I've failed you."

Sam looked up, astonished. Springing up from his bed, he all but ran into the arms of the man who'd been more of a father to him than his own, crying softly into his denim jacket.

"You didn't fail me. You've never failed a thing in your life."

Bobby snorted. "Trust me, I'm guilty of my fair share of wrongdoings. But I promise you this, kid; no matter what happens, nobody is ever going to hurt you again. Not in my house."

Sam allowed himself to be held, taking in the events of the past couple hours. Darkness descended upon the city, the sun disappearing into the west as the young boy thought back to when this all started, and what it meant for the people living under Bobby's roof. There was a war being raged within the Singer household, a war which Sam was sure would inevitably lead to bloodshed. One thing was for sure though; Dean's presence was going to alter Sam's very existence without his consent, and only time would tell whether he'd be able to pick up the pieces like last time . . . or whether this all-consuming storm would destroy him forever.