Chapter 1

It all really started when Sammy was six months old, our mother killed by the demon, and Dad thrusting baby Sam at me and yelling me, a four year old boy, to run out of the burning house. When he placed that baby-my brother- in my arms I felt a click. A small bolt of electric shock in my brain that made me have this epiphany, 'He's my little brother- mine!'

After that night everything in my small world changed for me, and now i had tunnel-vision and it was centered at Sammy-my Sammy.

3 and a half years later

Sammy is four years old, the same age I was when my whole world was turned on it's side. He makes a better four year old than I did; cute as a button that one is. He is a quieter kid than I, and damn polite (I still don't know where it came from because hell if it was from Dad and I!). He is also a fast learner, the kid could read books that are assigned to second graders and he could tie his own shoes, something he always informed me of when I was only trying to help him.

And even as independent my little brother was, the majority of the time you found him by my side, small fist tightly holding on to the bottom of my wholly jeans, as if I were going to suddenly disappear. He sleeps in my bed,cuddles by my side as I grip his frame to mine; he mimics everything I do, looking up to me as if I were some kind of hero. Even at the age of eight, almost nine, I still felt humbled by that, and I treasure him all the more. Not that I didn't act my age some times; I continually tease and mock him, and i pull small pranks on him all the time, as any good older brother should do. But with Sam and I, no matter the age, I felt a responsibility to him- he was mine after all.

One day, we had just gotten to another flea ridden motel, Dad ordered us a room with two queen beds and a cot with extra blankets, something we don't usually get. When we got in to the room, he threw his duffle on to the bed closest to the door, and then proceeded to tell me to throw my stuff on the other and Sammy's on the cot. I frowned, why would they need a cot? There were two perfectly-okay moderately good beds- that the three can sleep in.
"What is with the cot, sir," I asked?

"Dean, you are getting a little old to sleep with your brother and I know I haven't been the most observant father. This way you can have some space without your kid brother always around you." John said, like he thought that this was issue he had to resolve. It was like he thought I was a regular boy, wanting nothing to do with my younger ( and usually annoying) siblings, but he would be wrong.

"Sorry Dad, but I am okay with sharing the bed with Sammy," I told him with a shrug. "Anyways, Sammy gets nightmares, and I would end up back in the bed with him by the end."

John's face showed the guilt he had for not even realizing-even though he slept in the bed next to theirs, that he had never noticed his youngest's terror. He also felt guilt that he let his eight year old handle Sam when it was his job. He had to fix this-giving Dean less responsibility at night was one thing, because at night (well most nights) John was here, so he could take care of them and not just pass out like his usual routine.

"No, Dean, sleep on the cot; I am Sam's father, and if he has a nightmare, I will take care of him from now on." John nodded, by the end he was really talking aloud to himself, forgetting he was talking to me in the first place. Now I was pissed.

"Listen to me Dad," I got up right in front of him, my short stature none too impressive but my fury and stare were enough to gain his attention, " Sammy is Mine! He is my little brother, my responsibility, my life! He is not yours! So back off!" I nearly growled at him, backing up to latch on to the nearly forgotten boy behind him and held him close. "You hunt, you do what you need to do, but leave taking care of my Sammy to me, you got that?"

Freaked out by his oldest change in behaviors, a behavior so unlike him, he just nodded his head slowly. He would leave Sammy up to Dean, but this new possessiveness had him worried, and so made a mental note to keep an eye out for his oldest in the future.

About eight years later

Sammy was in eighth grade, having gotten to skip a grade when they changed schools yet agin, due to his impressive test scores. As proud of my baby brother as I am, I am still upset that we go to different schools, his a middle school, mine a high school, five miles down the road. It would seem that my protective-possesive instincts became even greater as time went on. I felt like ripping apart any innocent young friend Sam gets whenever they move, and the kids have a natural instinct to shy away from me when that mood hits, and at means also leaving Sam in the dust. Sam, innocent as to why none of the kids would stay friends with him, would cry into my shoulder.

I made sure not to tell him it was wasn't his fault, and no that was not a mistype. Because if Sammy kept on believing that he drove off the people, he would never expect it was me all along, and really it is only for his own good. He was too precious and sweet, and he didn't need these kids killing that innocence. So I made sure at the end of the day, Sam would always come to me, no matter the issue. Mostly we talked when we were in bed, and yes we still share a bed, I had refused to be separated with him.

Being sixteen, I now had needs that I hadn't when I was younger. So, most nights I would wake up, my front molded to Sam's back; cock pressed against his ass. When Sam was really exhausted, usually from a day of training, I could get away with clutching him closer as I rocked back and forth, moaning silently as I got off. I knew it was wrong, that it was basically a mixture of incest and rape, but Sammy way mine, so that line was non-existent.

On even rarer nights(the nights John left us for all night hunts), when I could get my hands on some, I would slip a sleeping pill or two in his glass of water he insists on having every night before bed. On those nights, I would pull his pajamas pants off and i would touch him. I would probe his tight little hole and pull at his small dick till he came. Than I would take out my bigger cock and press it between his cheeks, clutching them together as I thrust forwards, creating a tightness as I haven't wanted to take his virginity till he was conscious and screaming my name.

The thought made me hard again and I was tempted to pull my cock out now to stroke it, right in front Sammy who was currently doing the homework that was not due for another month; he tongue poking out between his teeth, a habit he has when trying to concentrate. I had the hole situation mapped out in my head of what could happen if I did just that. I would unbutton my jeans, and it wouldn't be until I slowly pulled down my zipper, a rather loud action, that Sam would notice me. I than, through the hole in my boxer, would processed to take my man meat out and start stroking, all the while my eyes trained on Sam. Sam, would be in shock, but couldn't help but stare and somewhat drool at the sight. I would lick my chapped lips and gesture sensually for Sam to come to me, for which he would do so eagerly. Getting to his knees, he would stare, first at my cock, than into my eyes questioningly. I would nod and would grasp his hair to urge him forward. He would wrap his luscious pink lips around my dick and than...

I groaned, because even though I didn't touch myself, I still came.

During the next few days I kept on hearing about the Jimmy kid, who was not Sammy's new best friend.
"Why don't you invite him over, Sammy?" I offered, wanting to meet the kid myself.
"Sure!" Sam smiled widely, excited at the prospect and I clenched my fists because Sam should only smile like that for me.

So the kid came over; except he wasn't a kid. He was more my age than anything. Apparently, he is home schooled and since his house was in that area he would come over and make friends with the middle school children (a/n:honestly I had no intention of making the kid sound creepy, it just happened). Sam said I should be nice, so I plastered on one of my fake smiles and met 'Jimmy'.

The conversation only lasted about a half an hour before I snapped. See during this whole meet and greet, Sam sat next to Jimmy and occasionally Jimmy would brush a hand over Sam's thy; or, he would rest his arm behind Sam like they were a couple. What really made me snap was how he made Sam laugh at a joke he made and he proceeded to clutch him closer till Sam was practically on his lap.

I was on my feet, in an instant, moving Sam out of my way and my right hook was for this guy. He fell back in shock, and I continually kept hitting and kicking him for daring to even touch my property. I could scarcely here Sam yelling at me to stop, but I couldn't! I needed to teach this punk and Sam that Dean will not take this behavior from anyone. Sam needed to learn that he couldn't whore himself to anyone that comes along being friendly to him and Jimmy needed to be an example that this was not tolerated- that Sam was off limits. Period.

I heard several bones cracking and snapping during the 'lesson' as I call it. Sam tried to stop me, but my tunnel vision was focused right now only on this dick. Finally, after the guy was unconscious and in a severe state, I stopped, huffing as I did so. I was breathing hard, I turned to face my little brother who stared at me in a mixture of fear and arousal that I knew at his age, he wouldn't understand. I took long steps to reach him and I pulled his hair back so the his head was tilted, and then proceeded to devour his mouth; my point made.

Sam is MINE!