Deans eyes opened. It was dark, and cold, and he found that his muscles ached. Dead silence, broken up by only the sound of his breath. His hand reached up, coming to an abrupt stop at something hard, he slid his hand up and down the wood. There were no screams. No tears. Only silence.
* * *
He kept reaching, digging, Searching for a way out, for a breath of air. It hurt, everything hurt. A breeze crashed against his hands. He found what he was searching for. He pulled his head out and took in a deep gasp of air. Panting, he tried to pull the rest of his body out.
He stood up, and looked around. Where the hell am I? He started to walk. His cheek was wet, he reached his hand to his face, only to realise that he was crying. He new was Sam. Sammy. He would get to se his baby brother. His heart ached and all that surrounded his mind was Sam. Sammy.
* * *
Sam Heard a knock on the door, he grabbed his gun and hid it be hind his back. His eye got closer to the to the peep hole. Dean . . . what? He opened the door. His eyes searched up and down his brother. He was confused, and he could feel the tears building up in the corner of his eyes, ready to spill over. He just wanted to touch him, and kiss him. He wanted to fuck him, and dig his fingers into his skin. He'd never wanted anything so much. He just needed to slide his hands over his brothers body. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Dean. Deans eyes widened. "Sammy. Sam, it's me. It's really me. Dude, I'm as confused as you are."
He walked into the motel room and closed the door behind him. Before his head was fully turned back around, he was pushed up against the wall, greeted by needy lips against his own. "Dean. Dean." the words came spilling out of Sam's mouth. The tears that had been built up had finally bubbled over and ran down his cheeks. Dean pushed Sam onto the bed, their legs tangled together as they hit the mattress. Greedy hands ran over warm skin.
"Dean. Dean I missed you so much"
"I know Sammy. Me too"
Their lips met again, Sam pulled his shirt over his head. Dean unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants off. "Hey, Dean . . . wait."
"What Sammy?"
"I feel like I'm about to do it with a dead person." Dean laughed. "Dean, it's not funny."
"I'm not dead anymore. Thats not very reasuring, uhm how 'bout this: I'm back, and I'm not leavin', ever. Okay Sammy?"
Their bodies got closer, and they picked up where they left off. Dean wrapped his fingers through Sams hair.
Then there was a knock on the door and they stopped moving imedietly. "W-who is it?" Sam's voice was shakey. "It's Bobby, ya idiot! Who'd ya think it was?" Sam pulled his shirt back over his head, Dean grabbed his pants and his belt and ran to the washroom. Sam let Bobby in. Sam's hair was messy still. "What's up with you?" Bobby looked at Sam.
"What?"
"Your hair. What, did you take a nap or somethin'?"
"... Y-yeah, uhm, I guess you could put it that way," Sam replied reluctantly. A trying-to-hard-to-seem-normal smile spread across his face. Then Dean walked out of the bathroom. "Hey, Bobby," Bobby's eyes lit up. "Dean." Dean walked over to Bobby and gave him a big bear hug. "Dean," Sam said quietly, with an scared look on his face "Dean, I need to talk with you . . . alone." They both looked at Bobby.
"It's alright boys, I got the hint. But, theres a demon in town and I'm going hunting. I was hoping you would come but you boys obviously got some stuff to work out. It was nice seein' ya Dean," Bobby said. "You two," Dean replied. Bobby left. They waited a couple of minutes before they started to talk. "What did you want to say, Sam?"
"Do you think . . . do you think he knows?"
"Are you insane?"
"No, it's just . . ."
"Just what?"
"The way he said 'you boys oviously got some stuff to work out."
"Well, why would his mind jump to . . . . that? I mean, he's smart but he's not crazy. He would never guess that we were . . .you know!"
"Well, we need to stop it."
"Why? Rules are meant to be broken Sammy. Whats so wrong with it?"
"'Whats wrong with it?' Were brothers Dean." Dean started towards the door. "Dean, where are you going?" Dean stopped. He turned around. "You know. I never thought it would get so bad."
"What?" Sam stared at Dean. "Dean."
"That it would be so damn hard just to not touch you. Or dream about you, or think about your body. The way you walk. Talk. Smile. Sammy, you are everything that I can't live without, but were not supposed to because 'it's not right.' What is right Sam?" Dean continued walking, the door slammed shut behind him.