It had been five years since Sam knew. Five long, torturous years hiding in silence behind brotherly love. Five years fighting his heart, straining his mind, ignoring his body – desperately trying to stay in control. Five years ago, at thirteen years old, Sammy started seeing his idolized older brother in whole new, pretty disturbing light. And every second since, he's been pushing his seemingly innate feelings down to the furthest depths of his soul, more than willing to pretend they didn't exist.

Sam loved his brother more than anything. He loved him more than a brother should. A lot more. The guilt, the self-loathing, the frustration with this unacceptable truth was all too evident in the countless self inflicted scars scattered across his thighs. At first Sam had chalked it up to the raging hormones at thirteen, the nomadic lifestyle at fifteen – the too-little human contact they received growing up as hunters. But soon, he realized this obsession, infatuation, love - whatever you wanted to call it - had to be chalked up to his own personal vendetta to screw up his life. Only his own perversion and twisted head could cause this. There was no other explanation, and he couldn't accept any other excuse. Because, let's face it, it's not every day you wake up to find your attracted to your brother in ways no one ever should be.

And as much as Sam tried, there was no denying this, only dealing with it.

"Ah, fuck. Yeah, Sam harder." He heard the man under him groan against a chain link fence as he pound ruthlessly into him. The words and rattling of the shaking fence snapped him from his straying thoughts as his enthusiasm began to wane.

Okay focus Sam.

It took a sad amount of effort to get any pleasure out of this without pretending the guy was someone else entirely. He shoved himself in deeper, digging his nails into the man's hips for some kind of purchase as the stirring, bunching heat only just began to flicker deep in his belly.

There it is.

A couple more minutes, no longer fighting the images behind his lids of green eyes, freckles, cocky sarcasm and Sam found that desperate release as the guy in front of him came, clenching Sam impossibly, almost painfully tighter inside. He grit his teeth driving his way through the pitifully weak orgasm and finally pulled out, fixing his pants up around his waist again. Maybe now that he was empty he'd be able to sleep in the same room as his brother for a night. Maybe.

Sam sighed as he turned away from the guy he'd just ruthlessly fucked and made a b-line for the exit of the grimy back alley.

God, this is so wrong.

"Sam, where you headed off to so soon?" The guy asked grabbing Sam's forearm before he was out of reach. Shit, he should really know his name.

"Oh, uh, just back to my motel." The man stared back, expectant, "Thanks." Sam muttered hoping he'd given the response the guy was looking for.

"Thanks?" Apparently not. "You don't want my number or anything?"

"Unfortunately I won't be around long enough to use it, man." Sam said awkwardly as the hand dropped from his arm, "But tonight was…" He only just faltered searching for the right words to satisfy, "Really great. I'll see you around." He patted the guy's shoulder and stalked off into the night.

"Fuck." Sam hissed under his breath as he reached the road that cut off the alley and was out of earshot from the other man. "Shit." He spit a little louder into the black, empty air around him, suddenly thankful no one was around. He had to stop doing this, using people, letting himself be used, but at the same time there was no way he could. He depended on these nights, sad and demeaning as they were he couldn't live with Dean and not have them.

And he couldn't live without Dean.

Sam stopped off at a liquor store on the walk back to the motel deciding quickly sobriety would get him nowhere in terms of sleep tonight. And he just wanted to sleep. He arrived in the last five minutes before close and picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels with the fake ID that'd gotten him into the bar earlier. Unscrewing the top off before he even got out of the store, Sam had half the bottle down by the time he finally made it to the door of the motel. He fumbled with the keys for a minute before lodging the right one in the right hole and twisting the knob to stumble through the doorway.

"Oh, shit." The words fell from Sam's mouth before he had time to register exactly what he was seeing happening on their motel bed. Then the bile rose up in his chest, pricking at his throat as he took in and processed the whole sight. Dean, his beloved brother, was balls deep in another guy clawing at his back as he thrust-

Oh shit.

Here was the contents of his stomach, pushing its way up and out to make its début. Dean was so caught up in his moans and – fuck he couldn't even think it – he didn't realize Sam had even been there till he heard his racing footsteps out of the motel as he heaved up the alcohol he'd only just gotten down.

"Sam?" He faintly heard Dean's voice call from inside the room; the door was still wide open.

"Shit, shit, shit," He heard his brother chanting as sheets rustled and feet stomped around the room, "You have to go, you gotta go. Now. Sorry." Sam coughed and hacked gripping the railing on the sidewalk as he finally finished his session.

He stood in time to see Dean's guest racing out of the room, being shoved out the room really, half-clothed and confused. Dean didn't watch as the guy sped away or turn to answer his call good-bye, but bent to lay a gentle hand on Sam's back.

"Hey buddy, you alright?" Sam shook the hand off violently before standing and backing away from his brother. "Sam," Dean ineptly chuckled gesturing back to the open motel door and shook his head, "I'm really sorry. I thought you'd be out for the night, you've been out every other night this week, I just…" He sighed, defeated, "Are you okay?"

"No, dude it wasn't you, or that. Alcohol. You just caught me by surprise." Sam said holding in the rage, the terror, the racking pain that threatened to shatter him as he forced a blank face and answered his brother.

A few awkward seconds passed as Dean shuffled his weight from side to side, Sam boring his stare into the concrete, seeing nothing but his brother with another man.

Repulsed. Terrified. Jealous. Sam didn't know what to feel he was still in shock.

"Well, we should probably get back in Sammy. It's cold."

Sam shoved past his brother taking another painful swig from his bottle and stomped inside.

"Hey man, take it easy with that." Dean said following after him, "You're still only eighteen, brother no need to be pounded the bottle just yet."

Sam gave a humorless chuckle and plunked down onto his bed trying not to notice the upturned sheets on the bed over. The effort it took not to explode on Dean was nearing a physical strain as the images seared into his mind and flashed before him like some sick porn stuck on repeat. He didn't go off though, no sir. He held it all in and instead, simply asked through tight lips and a tensed jaw:

"We're you ever gonna tell me Dean?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you're gay." Sam nearly yelled, throwing restraint to the wind, beyond frustrated with the situation.

"Sam, you know I'm not gay." His brother replied calmer than expected as he shot that look to his brother. The one that so effectively said drop it Sam.

Sam shook his head and slid up the bed to rest against the headboard, "Whatever." He muttered, slamming his bottle down on the nightstand.

"Please kid, don't finish that." Dean mumbled quietly as he made his way to the bathroom and shut the door. Anger festered deep in Sam's stomach, blazing a fire through his chest - white hot in his veins as he chugged the entire rest of the bottle before throwing it onto Dean's bed, empty.

His pure amazement at not throwing up that whiskey was the last thought he managed before the blackness creeping around his vision swallowed him whole and something hard hit his head.

God Damnet, how did I let that happen?

Dean thought as the heat of the water splashed across his face, trickling down the contours of his chest and back. He never wanted to hurt Sam. That was his little brother, the one thing he treasured in this life. The one thing that mattered. He was supposed to be looking after him, taking care of him, not this. He probably scarred him for life.

The shower ended too quickly before Dean was stepping out, wrapping a towel around his waist and moving out into the room for clothes.

"Ah Sammy, come on." Dean whispered slumping in defeat as he saw his brother falling off the bed passed out, head on the night stand – the empty bottle of whiskey submerged in his tousled sheets. He padded over to his brother pulling him back onto the mattress and laying his head down onto the pillow.

"Gonna have one hell of a headache tomorrow, kid." Dean muttered as he inched the covers down under his brother and back up over his lifeless form. All that jostling around and Sam didn't even stir. "God buddy did you have that whole bottle to yourself?" Dean wondered out loud a moment later watching his brothers slack figure. And how much did he have before that? Out of instinct he pressed his fingers to the valley of Sam's neck checking for status of a pulse. The beat was slow and a little faint but obviously there. He rolled Sam onto his side in case he did end up with alcohol poisoning and couldn't wake up to empty his stomach.

Dean couldn't repress his shudder to the thought, waking up to find his brother dead, suffocated in his own vomit. There was no way he was getting to sleep now with the thought still stirring around in his head. Dean gently slapped the side of Sam's face after retrieving a bottle of water from the mini bar. Sam's head followed the movement but fell limp again.

"Hey Sam, man, gotta wake up. Just for a minute. I got some water." He hit his brother again; just a little harder, reluctant to hurt him, even unconscious. Sam winced, any reaction was a good one, but remained asleep. "No, no, no Sam come back bud. Just a little water, then you can go back to sleep." Dean coaxed tapping his brother's cheek again. Sam stayed asleep, too unconscious for Dean's liking. He could feel the slight swell of probably unnecessary panic rise in him as he hit his brother, hard.

Sam moaned and tried to lift a hand to his face, grimacing.

"There you go kiddo, just sit up real quick." Dean wrapped his arm behind Sam's neck and pulled him up as smoothly as he could manage, settling him against the headboard.

"Fu-" Sam huffed a breath lolling his head to the side, "-ean" he moaned. "Wha' the fu-" He puffed out another breath as if the effort to speak was just too much, "you doin' Dean?"

Dean didn't answer, just grabbed his brother's chin firm in his hand, keeping him steady, and put the bottle up to his lips. "Alright, easy brother. Just some water."

"Ah, Damnet Dea-" Sam feebly pushed the bottle from him, "The hell, man?"

"Look, I'm not leavin' you alone until you've had some so suck it up. You'll thank me tomorrow." Dean warned growling in aggravation and as promised, didn't leave until half the bottle was down his brother's throat.

"We done?" Sam asked, eyes still closed, body still limp.

"Yeah, Sam. How do you feel? Did you have anything to drink before that bottle?" Sam nodded in his delirium and began slipping into unconsciousness again. Dean sighed and grabbed a trash can from the corner of the room setting it down next to the bed. He pushed a hand to Sam's forehead feeling for a temperature drop; there was only a little, but any mere sign of a symptom had Dean freaked. It would just be his luck that his brother would get alcohol poisoning tonight. He pulled the covers off his own bed and put them on top of Sam tucking them around his still seemingly dead figure.

The worry kept Dean awake another hour or so as he flipped through fuzzy TV stations, waiting for any sign his brother wasn't alright and checking every so often to see if his temperature had dropped any more. Somewhere in the midst of the long passing minutes he dozed and couldn't help it, soon lost in his dreams, oblivious to Sam.

Unfortunately, the first thing Sam woke to was the sound of violent coughing racking the pain in his head; it took a moment to realize it was his own. And the coughing wasn't coughing, but more choking. He flipped over to his side to clear his airways and he hurled into a trash bin he didn't know was there.

"Ah," He moaned gripping the side of the nightstand hoping it could keep him grounded – the world, he could've sworn, was falling sideways. He tried to look up; someone's voice was calling to him, but could only watch as things tipped one way then the other blurring into a mesh of doubled shapes.

"Sam?" Dean. "Sam." He should answer.

"Dean?" He thought he heard himself say.

"Yeah buddy, it's me. It's me, you okay? Can you hear me?" Pause, there was some shuffling, Sam's eyes couldn't stay open, "Shit." Dean whispered taking his hand away from Sam's forehead, "How did I fall asleep? Come on, let's get you into the tub." Tub?

"No, Dean." His voice started coming through clearer now as his head tried to focus and process his surroundings. His vision lessened its haze and sway and unfortunately, the memories of the day before were becoming all too clear in his mind as well as Dean tried to wrap his arm under his shoulders and hobble him over to the bathroom. "No." He repeated trying to make his voice louder, but it came out a rasp whisper as sleep was still tugging at his senses. The effort to fight his brother was simply too much.

Sam felt water rising along his body before he realized what was happening. How had he gotten to the tub so fast? How was it already full?

"Dean wha's goin' on?"

"Just getting you warmed up brother. Try and stay awake for me, huh?" Dean encouraged lightly shaking Sam's bare shoulder. When did he get all but his boxers off? Even in the beyond drunk stupor Sam was currently struggling with, he still could register the heated chill that emanated from the skin his brother touched.

"Lea' me alone." Sam muttered putting real effort into making his voice sound authoritative. It didn't work, still just a horse undertone.

"Yeah okay Sammy I will but only once your stupid ass is sobered up a little."

"'M fine. Jus' cold." And with that everything went black again.

Sam slid down the side of the tub as his eyes fell closed again and was submerged under water before Dean ever realized his brother had passed out again. He ripped him above the surface with a fresh start of panic. Sam didn't stir, didn't even twitch.

"Sam? Sammy! Come on you stupid-" Dean didn't bother finishing his sentence too busy listening for his brother to breath. He felt it, the slightest puff of air and slow drag back in. He didn't suck in any water, but then as he kept listening it took another ten belated seconds before Sam inhaled again. He pulled Sam out of the tub, wrapped a towel around his pliant form and carried them both out to the car.

It took ten minutes to get to the hospital. Ten long agonizing minutes trying to wake Sam up, to get any reassuring reaction from him. But Sam was out; the alcohol had taken its time digesting its way through his system and now its full effects were killing his brother. Literally. He swore he'd never take another sip of it in his life if only his brother ended up okay.

"I need some help." Dean called out carrying his brother through the emergency doors of the hospital; Sam stirred at the noise of his brother's voice. The nurse behind the counter stepped out, concern all over her face, "Pretty sure he's got alcohol poisoning." He said to the woman who ushered him over to a gurney.

"What's his name?"

"Sam." The word fell from his lips soft and treasured, bearing all the raw fear that devoured him as the reality of the situation sunk in.

"How long has he been unconscious?" The woman asked. Sam's eyes just barely fluttered open, and Dean's heart jumped.

"Uh, about ten minutes? Hey buddy, can you hear me?"

"Dean? Dean." The befuddled but still clear panic was too obvious on his brother's face.

"You're gonna be okay Sam. Don't worry, it's gonna be alright."

"Relax, son." The doctor who had arrived soothed as he laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. His eyes flickered over to the man with distrust and confusion as they wheeled his little brother away through automatic glass doors. They slid shut with such finality Dean suddenly felt the urge to shatter them.

"Is he gonna be alright?" Dean asked as soon as his brother was completely out of sight.

"He's in good hands." The nurse said retrieving paper work from the other side of the counter and handing it over, "Fill these out and take a seat. The doctor will come speak with you as soon as he's finished with your…?"

"Brother. He's my brother." The nurse nodded and turned away as Dean, in his haze, somehow made it to sit.

He's in good hands? Did people know the meaning of reassurance? We're they capable of saying something else in hospitals? Something other than good fuckin' hands?

Dean's thoughts raged on as he scribbled away their fake insurance, making sure he used Sam's fake ID to fill out all the information regarding him and his age. They definitely didn't need any jail time for underage drinking now that Sam was eighteen and actually liable for it.

An hour and a half after the paper work was done a young, rather short man in an overly long doctor's coat finally approached Dean with some information. The older brother ignored everything besides what they did to Sam and whether or not he could go see him yet.

"…We pumped you're brother's stomach…he's resting now…he's awake. You can go see him." Ah, there it was. Without another word Dean was escorted to Sam's room, his brother's rising and falling chest being the only thing he could see. Sam's head faced away from the door.

"Sam?" Dean entered the room slowly making sure not to wake his brother if he was asleep. The head rolled over, bright hazel eyes staring back at him.

"You fuckin' suck." Dean laughed too relieved to hear his brother talking without a slur again to care about the words. "That was hell." Sam continued as Dean took a seat on the bed.

"Sorry kid, you were awake?"

"Yeah, you don't gotta be out for that." Sam paused and coughed wincing, "but it sure as hell helps."

Dean gave another weak chuckle, "Well serves your dumb, light-weight ass right."

"I'm not a light-weight."

"Well then you're a dumb ass."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious Sam." Dean said, his voice taking on a new, somber tone, "You're not a kid anymore; I didn't think I needed to watch you like one but after this?" Dean shook his head, "How am I supposed to trust you now?"

"I never asked you to trust me. I don't really care if you do. And I woulda been fine if you'd just left me alone."

You're kidding me.

"Sam, are you listening to yourself?" Dean's voice escalated, "You could've died if I'd left you alone. What's wrong with you? Why'd you finish the bottle anyway?" It kept escalating, "Cause I told you not to?"

"I was thirsty." Sam said simply turning away from his brother again.

"Fuck you." Dean spit, "You scared the shit outta me, man and this is what I get?"

Sam just shrugged. How had this conversation turned so quickly?

What the hell was his problem? Seriously what the fuck?

"Look, brother I don't know what the hell's gotten in to you, but obviously you don't want me here. So, since I've been takin' care of your ass all night, I'm gonna go take a shower and get some sleep. Call me when they let you go." And Dean left, with one last confused and baffled look, disappearing from the doorway.

It was seven hours that they kept Sam, seven extra long hours drawn out with the guilt of snapping off at Dean. Was it really necessary keeping him? He just wanted to get the hell out of there – the nerve, really, after shoving a tube through his nose and down to his stomach, heaving him dry. What ass holes.

Okay, so maybe Sam's angry thoughts weren't directly related to the hospital, but it wasn't helping he was stuck here.

"How're you feeling Sam?"

"I'm fine. Can I go now?" Sam whined a little unsuccessfully as his throat was raw from the tubes as the nurse walked in, checking his IV and vitals.

"You've been asking that the past four hours, you were very sick Sam. You need to take that seriously; and we need to make sure you're going to be okay before we let you go."

"I'm gonna be fine. Pinky promise." Sam said gruffly eyes intent on the TV above him, "Now can I?" The nurse stopped in front of him grabbing his attention; Sam's eyes flitted down to her.

"I'll go get your doctor. We'll see what he says."

Twenty minutes later Sam was free and not calling Dean for a ride.