Hi kids! Again, please review... I love hearing what you guys think! This is what Dean was doing while Sammy was away at school.

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Four years apart, and the haunted look in Sam's eyes was still breaking Dean's heart. Dean had tried to move on. Tried to forget the way his brother's skin blossomed with angel wings as his father beat him. Tried to forget the way he had stood still. Frozen. Dean had tried to forget the pain that ripped his heart into shreds when Sam walked out that door.

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"Maybe I don't deserve to get hit, Sam!"

Silence dropped suddenly over them. Silent tears spilled over Sam's pronounced cheekbones as he yanked the duffel bag over his shoulder.

"Fuck you, Dean."

Dean flinched as the motel room door slammed behind his baby brother. Regret washed over Dean in a vicious tide. If he'd never said those things to Sam, hadn't let the words fall from his mouth—violent, just like John—Sam would have stayed. He was the perfect little soldier, his father's words echoing in his head even now—Sam deserved this, Sam was a problem that needed to be taken care of. How could he have said that to Sam? Dean felt the worthlessness he always felt watching John hit Sam cut through his heart. Worthlessness because he had always failed to protect his brother...but they weren't brothers anymore. Dean surveyed the contents of the folder with shaking hands. John hadn't been lying—Sam had been adopted in 1983. Dean threw the folder on the floor, watching as the papers scattered across the dingy carpet. His hands shook, his breathing shallow. He needed to forget. The Impala beckoned from the parking lot.

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The club was dirty, glitter on every surface and a sound system that said there may have been a party here, once upon a time. Dean didn't care, he was just looking to get drunk. Looking to escape. Looking for a way to take the hit for Sam. His beautiful younger brother, who didn't even know. Dean ordered shots, and took them with beer as chase. He thought back over the twisted roads that they'd been down together, the creatures, his father, the mess their lives had become. Helplessness skittered across his eyes, making them shine with desperation. More shots, and his eyes showed nothing but black, from pupils blown so wide with the desire to forget.

"Hey pretty boy, you wanna get outta here?"
His stomach dropped as his father's nickname for Sam entered his ears on hot, wasted breath, slick hands slipping under the hem of Dean's shirt. It wasn't the first time he had been propositioned by a man, but it was the first time he couldn't bring himself to care. He turned around to tell the man to fuck off, but the dangerous glint in the man's eyes stopped him. This stranger would hurt him, he was certain of that...but this time he would be the pretty boy. He'd take the hit for Sam.

"Yeah, okay."

Slurred speech, and Dean realized he had been drinking for hours. Dangerous, probably. Maybe this man would kill him. Maybe he could forget the way his hands felt on Sam's skin. Maybe he could forget the way his baby brother called out for him in the night. God, he felt dirty. Maybe since they weren't brothers, Sam could forgive him...but he doubted Sam would see it that way.

The brick was rough and hard against Dean's back, the wind knocked from his lungs as the man slammed him into the wall of the grimy alleyway behind the bar. Graffiti lined the walls, dim lit by the single, flickering streetlight. Women, prostitutes, lurked in the shadows, and Dean suddenly wasn't sure he could go through with this. The man pinned by his wrists with iron grip, and although Dean knew there would be bruises, he didn't struggle. Didn't struggle as the man bit into his neck hard enough to draw blood. Didn't struggle as his shirt was ripped open, fingernails leaving track marks down his arms, across his back. Didn't start to struggle until the man undid his belt, and yanked his pants down around his knees. Dean realized he was in trouble as fingers dug into his hipbones, pulling him up.

"W-wait, please..."

Low, a keening groan more than anything, as his fingers scrabbled to find purchase against the dirty wall.

"Whatsa matter, pretty? You gonna chicken out on me now?"

Harsh, rough with desire words that made Dean's stomach drop. The man's fingers gripped tighter on his hips, and Dean could see the dirt under his fingernails. His stomach churned. Dean realized he didn't even know the stranger's name.

"Please, I just..."

The man snickered.

"Just what? Is it your first time with a guy, pretty?"

Dean nodded, desperately willing the man to let go. He didn't, instead using one leg to slam Dean's legs apart while still pinning his wrists to the wall. His breath was hot against Dean's ear,

"Don't worry, pretty boy. I'll be gentle. I promise."

Dean bit his lip to keep from screaming as the man slammed inside of him, ripping him open, blood spilling from somewhere deep inside. Even as his hunter's instincts kicked in, Dean knew he wouldn't be able to escape. He was too drunk, too weak for this. The man pounded against him, abusing his flesh, slamming his head against the wall with each thrust. Dean closed his eyes, feeling the too-familiar burn of tears for his brother, and tried to detach from his body.

"I'm sorry, Sammy...I'm so sorry."

All those nights, all the shitty motel rooms, every hit his brother ever took, washed over Dean as the world slid away into black.

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After the night in the alley, Dean was careful. He always made sure he was in control of his fucks, his body. Never allowed anyone else to have the upper hand again. John wondered, questioned him, but Dean never told a soul. He kept tabs on Sam, knew he was applying to law school, knew he had a girlfriend. Had to fight the bitter tang of jealousy that shot through him at the thought of Sam with someone else, but shoved his feelings down, because where the hell would that get him anyways? Dean flirted with women, fucked other men—always the same boy, hazel eyes, dirty brown hair, dimples...he moved on from Sam. He worked his way through a string of alcohol induced one night stands that would put the devil to shame and moved on. Hunted fearlessly, recklessly even, put his world back together, and learned to trust his father again.

He knew Sam had only worked the case with him because he was afraid of what Jess would say if she knew. Knew Sam was preparing to forget him forever. But somehow, Dean couldn't bring himself to care. He knew he was flirting with danger as he laced every word with sweetness, the kind that talked every girl he'd ever met into bed. But Sammy, with his eyes, and dimples, and the body he'd filled out while he'd been away...it would be devastating when Sam left him again. But then Jess had been killed.

And tonight, with Sammy sitting in his passenger seat, his eyes so haunted, his little piece of normal taken away, Dean couldn't help but feel the rush of old emotions coming back, undoubtedly reflecting in his eyes. Things were different now.

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Pleasie please review everybody. I'm going home for Christmas break, so I won't be updating until January! ): In the meantime, happy holidays kids! (: