"1, 2, 3, PUSH!" Sam and Dean steeled themselves, backs straining and arching at the heavy wooden door. They heard the hinges creak, but the massive door didn't budge. They were smack in the middle of a demon hunt, not far outside of Atlanta, Georgia. The pastor of one of the country's largest mega-churches had been possessed by a crazy powerful demon, and he had been giving the boys hell for the last three days. Castiel himself had enlisted their help, but he had suddenly been called back to heaven, leaving them to fight the monster themselves. To say it wasn't going well was an understatement.

With one more desperate shove against the door, they collapsed against it, exhausted. The demon had sealed them shut inside the giant sanctuary, toying with them, and they were both tired of it, exhaustion seeping into their bones. Demons weren't supposed to be able to tread on holy ground, but clearly this one had no issues with that. Dean swore he could hear that thing laughing, the sound of it echoing in the vast space. They had checked every door that could possibly lead out of the church, but they were sealed shut, held closed by a supernatural force that neither of them had ever experienced when dealing with a demon.

"Dean.." Sam's breath was ragged from exertion "I hate demons. Fucking hate them." Even though this was completely understood between the two of them, it seemed to Sam that it was a necessary thing to say.

Dean turned his head and looked at his younger brother. "Yeah Sammy. I know. Fucking hate demons. Got it." Sam clapped the back of his head lightly with one of his giant hands, eliciting a small noise of discomfort from Dean. Sam would never hurt him he knew, but all the same he knew Sam needed something to direct his frustration at.

Dean stood up, hands planted on his hips as he paced, trying to figure out something, muttering about useless angels under his breath. Sam watched him, could see the wheels turning in his big brother's head, trying to figure a way out of this. Sam couldn't help but smile. Dean was smart, even if it wasn't book smart like Sam. He stood up and laid a hand on Dean's shoulder.

Dean stopped pacing and met Sam's gaze. Immediately some of his frustration dropped away. "We'll figure this out, alright Dean?" He gave him as warm a smile as he could, his face streaked with sweat and dirt from where they had been in the bowels of the church earlier. Without really thinking, Dean reached out and stroked the side of Sam's face, silently reveling in the smoothness of the skin there. The barest shade of desire spread over Dean's face, and at the sight of it Sam sucked on his lower lip. "Sammy I-"

A loud crash echoed through the sanctuary, and suddenly the demon was there, eyes gleaming black. With a synchronized motion, the moment between them dissolved, Sam and Dean tackled him to the ground. Sam wrapped his arms around the back of the demon, restraining him as Dean's knife plunged right into his heart. Normally, bright flickers of orange light and an awful gasping sound signified the end of a demon's life. This time, the demon exploded, throwing Sam and Dean against hard pews and spraying blood and flesh all over the sanctuary. As if by magic, Castiel appeared, angel blade at the ready. He saw blood everywhere, fearing the worst. Then he saw Sam and Dean lying on the floor opposite from each other, covered in red.

Cas looked sheepish, if it was possible for an angel to do so. "I see that I am... late." Dean stared daggers at the angel, trying to telepathically end him. "Yeah, you just missed the finale where that thing exploded." Sam sat up, groaning and shaking his head where he had slammed hard into a pew.

"I'll get this cleaned up – you two get out of here." Dean helped Sam to his feet, and didn't even look at the angel as the massive door finally opened and they made their way outside.

Sam finally recovered enough to where he could speak. "When did they start doing that – you know, exploding?"

"Guess Lucifer decided he needed some time bombs in his arsenal or something." He looked over Sam, making sure all the blood on his body was the demon's and not his own. "You feel anything broken Sammy?"

"Just the back of my head." Sam's vision started to cloud and his head lolled forward. He would have fallen to the ground had Dean not already been helping steady him.

"Whoa there Sammy – let's get you out of here."

. . .

Two hours and a pile of burned clothes later, Sam was sitting on his hotel room bed with an ice pack pressed against the back of his head and a glass of whiskey in his hand, trying his best to not wince every time he blinked. Dean was sitting opposite him, wrapping his hand where he had fallen and cut it on glass. He finished and lay down across the bed at Sam's feet.

"Hand me that whiskey bottle, would ya?" Sam reached to the bedside table and handed Dean the amber colored liquid, and Dean pulled straight from the bottle.

"Shouldn't drink lying down Dean – might choke."

Dean raised a hand and flipped him off, continuing to down the liquor. He finished and passed the bottle back to Sam. Dean turned his head and looked at his younger brother.

"Looking kind of green there Sammy. You alright?"

Sam cracked an eye open. "Honestly Dean, no. This really fucking hurts." Sam's breath was wheezy and shallow.

Dean sat up and crawled up next to Sam. "Let me see Sam." He gently removed Sam's hand and the icepack, and as gently as he could parted his hair. Sam winced at the contact, and Dean whispered apologies to him. There was an ugly, ugly bruise, and he could see that a blood vessel had burst, leaving the skin dark. Sam had had some close scrapes before but this was bad, really bad.

"Sammy I think we need to get you to... Sammy?"

Sam had passed out, his head moving freely in Dean's hands. Dean quelled his rising fear and scrambled for his phone. He dialed 911, and he began to explain as soon as the operator answered him. "Hello? Yeah my brother is hurt, bad..."

. . .

Sam opened his eyes, and the lights he saw were bright. Heaven? No, can't be. Dean would be here if... unless they were both dead. He sat up quickly, immediately regretting that decision and the room began to spin. His stomach heaved, and as if by magic a pair of hands holding a silver bedpan was right there, and he wretched, puking up God knows what.

He heard Dean's voice. "Easy there Sammy, I got you. Just let it all out." Sam doubled over again, and his head started to throb. After awhile, he finally felt like he wasn't going to throw up again for at least a moment or two, and picked his head up, taking in the room.

Dean was right there, his hands setting aside the bed pan and then coming up to rest on Sam's shoulders, wearing a look of relief. His eyes were full of concern, concern like Sam had never seen in his brother's eyes before.

"Dean – where..."

"Hospital Sammy. I called 911 when you passed out. First time you've been awake in two days." Sam's eyes focused on Dean's face. Dean looked like he hadn't slept in all that time, his face covered in stubble, dark circles under his eyes. He wiped away a tear and smiled as best as he could. "Glad to see your pretty eyes open again Sammy. Was starting to miss'em."

Dean hugged Sam as tight as he dared, quietly sobbing into his shoulder. Sam buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck, holding on for dear life. After what seemed like hours, Dean backed off of him.

Sam wiped his eyes and Dean took his hands. "What happened Dean?"

"You passed out while I was checking that bump on the back of your head." Sam reached up and gingerly felt the thick bandaging that swaddled his brown-maned head. "Doctor said you were lucky you didn't fracture your skull. But you're gonna be hurting for awhile Sam. She said it was the nastiest concussion she'd ever seen. I told him we had been playing football and I guess I tackled you too hard." Dean chuckled lightly, and looked at Sam's hands, tracing them over with his fingers.

"Dean you... you didn't do this." He removed his hands from Dean's and tilted his head up. "I don't blame you in the least. You killed that demon, did what you had to do. Not your fault he went off like that. If you didn't gank him then both of us would be in a far worse place right now." He pulled him in for a kiss, long and deep. Sam still tasted like puke but Dean could care less. His Sammy was awake, and he was alive. "Not your fault, alright?"

Dean nodded his head and wiped away more tears. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at Sam, whose eyes were full of warmth and forgiveness. "Can I get you anything Sammy? You name it, I'll find it. Even a frappe caramel whatever it is." Sam laughed as much as his aching body would allow. "You want to know what would make me feel better? If you go and take care of yourself Dean. You look bad. Go get some food and rest, okay? I'm not planning on moving anyway." Sam turned those big puppy dog eyes on him, putting seriousness behind his words.

"Okay Sammy..." He knew that there wasn't enough room in the hospital bed for the both of them, but he desperately wanted to try.

"Dean, really. No use in both of us being down for the count – and your condition is avoidable. Go on, I'm safe here. Look in my wallet, and hand me the silver chain." Dean grabbed the worn leather wallet and fished around for it. He extracted a thin metal band. Sam took it and held it up to him. Etched into each link was a tiny symbol.

"Remember when we made these Dean? It's a charm to ward off every bad thing out there Dean. They can get close but can't touch me." Sam leaned in to whisper in Dean's ear, his voice taking on a dark shade that made Dean's insides turn hot. "Only you're allowed to touch me. No one and nothing else." Sam nipped at Dean's earlobe with the barest hint of teeth, just enough for him to feel it. Dean had never gotten so hard so quickly in his life, and that was with his body shot from exhaustion.

Dean looked at Sam with lust blown eyes and was about to plunge his tongue into his mouth when the door handle jiggled and the doctor made her way in. Dean settled back into the chair next to Sam's bed, crossing his legs to hide the erection that had sprung up. Sam looked up at the doctor, giving her his best "I'm a good patient" smile. Dean had to cast his eyes down because he knew that there was nothing sincere about it.

"Nice to see you looking so well, Mr. Campbell." She was a pleasant looking woman in her early fifties, long blonde hair streaked with gray, clear blue eyes assessing her patient. "Let's remove this bandage, shall we?" As she held Sam's head steady and unwound the white gauze strip, he looked at Dean and winked, grinning impishly. He licked his lips, mouthing "want you," as the doctor continued her examination. Dean shifted in his seat, feeling precum slick against his leg as he did. Dean mouthed back at him "I'm wet" and he watched Sam's fingers curl against his kneecaps. The doctor was bent over Sam's head, her fingers working through his hair, completely ignorant to what was going on literally right next to her.

Dean moved so that Sam could see the outline of his hard cock straining against the thigh of his pants leg, and Sam's eyes went wide with lust. His expression changed suddenly as he winced in pain, the doctor gently feeling the spot where he had hit his head. It was all Dean could do to restrain himself from jumping up and forcing her off of Sam, but he knew that she meant him no harm.

"It looks better Mr. Campbell, but you're not going to be playing football for awhile." She backed away from Sam, who still had his eyes partially shut from pain. She turned to Dean, who was doing a magnificent job of keeping a concerned look on his face. "I'm going to give him some painkillers that are going to have him loopy for a couple of days. Keep him off his feet and make sure that he sleeps on his side for at least three days – try to keep pressure off the back of his head." She turned back to Sam. "No strenuous physical activity, no driving, and lots of rest for you for a week. Try to keep your heart rate low, and abstain from sexual activity. You're strong and healthy, but you still need to heal. You're free to go when you like, but please be mindful. If you're not, it could get worse."

On her way out the door she turned and smiled at them both. "By the way, the two of you are absolutely adorable together." As she left, the two brothers looked at each other, blushing fiercely at having been noticed.

. . .

A week had gone by, and Sam was feeling a lot better. Dean had been really good about taking care of him, making sure he took his medicine, keeping him positioned right when he slept, and Dean had bitched about it not once. Dean had actually enjoyed taking care of him, and always had. They had just laid low for a few days, allowing Sam to recover and for both of them to get some much needed downtime. The last hunt had been strenuous, and both wanted to breathe easy for a bit.

They were curled up together in Sam's bed, Dean resting on his little brother's shoulder, eating popcorn from a bowl in Sam's lap as they watched Robin Hood: Men In Tights. It was one of a few movies that they always watched when it was on, and they still laughed uproariously at it, saying the dialogue along with the actors, belting out the signature "Men In Tights" tune. The movie ended, both of them wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. Dean turned the t.v. off and snuggled closer to Sam, who moved the empty popcorn bowl and breathed in the scent of Dean's hair. He closed his eyes and drank the scent in, letting it fill his head. Dean smelled safe and warm. He always did, even when he was dirty and sweaty from hunting.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?" Dean shut his eyes and kissed Sam's shoulder before resting there again.

"Why me?"

"Why you what? Why do bad things happen to you? Family business, I suppose Sam. We're on every bad thing out there's hit list." Dean was starting to feel sleepy.

"No Dean – I mean why me. Why pick me when you could have anyone else in the world?"

Dean picked his head up and opened his eyes, looking at Sam. "Sammy do we really have to do this?"

Sam gave him a half smile. "I was just thinking. Been doing a lot of it lately, you know?"

Dean raised a hand and laid it against Sam's cheek, rubbing it tenderly. "You remember the first time Sammy?"

"The first time what?"

"The first time we f- made love."

"Of course I do." He kissed Dean on the lips, just the barest of brushes as the memory ghosted through his mind.

"That night, not too long after Jess died and you had gone to her grave. Sam I had never seen you so broken up, so helpless – and you're not the kind of person who gets broken up often. I didn't know how to help you, how to take some of that pain away. Sam I've always loved you – hell you're a better partner for what we do than any other hunter I can think of. But when you looked at me with those tear-filled eyes, Sammy, I saw it. I saw the burning need to just feel loved, whole, accepted so that you could get back down to earth. You remember Sam?"

Sam's inside clinched at the memory. Losing Jess still hurt occasionally. But Dean had been right there to pick him back up. "Yeah I... I do Dean."

Dean rubbed Sam's chest, trying to erase the memory. "And I didn't know what else to do, so I kissed you. I thought you were gonna freak, run for the hills and never look back. But Sammy, you didn't. You kissed me right back. And I've never asked you, but Sam – why?"

Sam turned his body so that he was facing Dean. "Because you make me feel safe Dean. Loved. I had literally no one else to turn to, but you were right there. Just like you always were. Always are. And yeah, something in my mind that night might have temporarily said 'Stop kissing your brother' but Dean – it felt right. It felt like the rightest thing I had ever done. Now I missed Jess, don't get me wrong. I missed her a lot. But being with you... it lessened the pain until she was a pleasant memory, not a girl I saw burst into flames on my dorm room ceiling. Maybe somewhere deep down in my subconscious, I had always known that I wanted you. I wasn't in denial or anything, it just worked its way to the surface because of all that. And then in my darkest hour, you saw it. And I couldn't say no, didn't want to say no. Dean, you've been completing me ever since. You're the best I've ever had, and I mean that in every possible way. There's no one, absolutely no one who can make me feel like you do."

There were tears in Dean's eyes, and he let them roll shamelessly down his cheeks. He put his hands on the sides of Sam's head and pulled him in for a kiss, a kiss so warm and tender that it seemed like time stopped and that was all that existed – that single gesture of bonding. Dean held Sam like that for a long time, bodies pressed together, two souls that needed each other like air.

Eventually, Dean removed his mouth from Sam's and pressed his forehead to his, running his fingers through his long brown hair.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, his voice a quiet prayer. "Sam I swear the words that come out of your mouth are the last thing I want to hear before I die."

Sam hugged him close, enveloping him in his long arms. "So long as I am near you when I take my final breaths, I will be happy."

Dean didn't want to think about his Sammy dead, but the words touched his heart regardless. "I love you Sam. So, so much." He whispered them into Sam's ear, and even though there was absolutely no one else to hear them, they were for Sam only.

Sam turned his head and held Dean's gaze. "I love you too Dean. More than I could ever say."

Sam fell asleep that night with his head on Dean's chest, and he had never felt more safe in his life.