Dean didn't really want to leave the car once he had fallen asleep and woke up inside his own mind. He didn't want to uncover anything, more importantly he didn't want Sam to uncover anything, to learn Dean's dirty little secret.

"Come on, let's go"

Sam hadn't even finished his sentence before jumping out of the car to explore the confusing world that was his brother's head. Sam wasn't really sure what they would encounter, he hoped to hell he did not have to witness any "Busty Asian Beauties" fantasies that Dean was likely to have. Dean was open enough with Sam as it was and there was some things that he didn't need nor want to know.

Dean forced himself to move, to get out of the car. His movements were heavy and slow, sluggish even. He was aware that he probably looked like a man walking to his death. Hey, there was a chance Sam would be so disgusted that he might kill Dean thinking that his brother was possessed. Dean looked up at his brother, the fact that he had to still annoyed the hell out of Dean - he was the oldest goddammit, and saw that Sam was watching him, waiting for him to take charge. Because that's how it was for the Winchesters, it didn't matter how much of a fuss Sam would kick up, Sam would always follow his older brother's lead. Always. And, Dean, in his own sick way loved it, because it meant that Sammy was his and my God, did that make Dean feel all warm and happy inside. It made his dick happy too, but he tried to ignore that.

So, Dean strode on ahead, making sure to swagger. He couldn't have Sam knowing he was afraid, no, that's not how it worked. And Sam followed him, matching every step like he always had. Dean hated walking next to Sam, it physically hurt being close to him and not being able to touch him. He wasn't saying he wanted to walk off into the sunset holding hands with Sam, but he'd like every now and then to just brush against him or something. Or, you know, grab Sam and push him up against a wall, that'd be pretty awesome.

In accordance with Dean's thoughts, a wall sprung up. In the middle of a fucking forest. And Sam was looking at him like he had about 4 heads.

"Shut up"

Dean growled at Sam and continued to walk forward. His feet crunching on the twigs and dirt beneath him. It just seemed as if there were trees and trees going on forever and Dean knew he never dreamt simply about trees. Dean sighed and tried to focus on finding this Jeremy kid and when he did find the little shit, Dean would tear him apart.

Sam was quiet by his brother's side, well as quiet as a fucking sasquatch could be with heavy footfalls. In all honesty both brothers were quiet, both scared of what they might find.

They seemed to reach some sort of clearance and there was themselves, Sam and Dean on the impala bonnet. Dean forgot how to breathe as he watched his dream self crush Sam to him and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. All teeth and tongue and aggression. And Sam was making these noises, proper happy noises and Dean's hands were everywhere and so were Sam's and god was Dean jealous of his dream self. Sam and Dean didn't seem to notice they had an audience as they continued to kiss and bite and lick at each other. Their clothes were beginning to scatter over the grass and fuck, Dean was bending Sam over. And Sam was moaning like a fucking porn star and Dean could practically feel his dick trying to get out of jeans.

And that's when dream Sam looked over and smiled, all bright eyes and dimples and goddammit if he didn't look fucking edible. Dean could tell the real Sam was looking at him too but Dean couldn't take his eyes of dream-Sam. Because dream Sam was looking at Dean like he was a fucking god and Dean wanted to punch his dream self for touching what was his. Dream Sam just kept moaning and chanting Dean's name and Dean was doing all he could to not go over and take his dream self's place, to be the one of top of Sam, to be bending him over, to be kissing and biting his neck, marking him.

Dean's train of thought stopped dead when he felt a fist smack into his face sending his head flying back, and there was Sam, the real Sam. Sam who looked like he might throw up. Sam who just punched his brother.

"Sammy"

Dean's voice was barely a whisper, desperation leaked into his voice. No, no, no, Sammy, I'm sorry, please, no, don't hate me.

"Don't. Just don't"

Sam's reply was harsh, his voice sounding full of gravel. Dream Sam and Dean had long disappeared leaving the real Winchester brothers alone. The tension seemed to radiate from them and Dean couldn't even bring himself to look at Sam's face, to see the hatred that was undoubtedly there. And that's when they heard the sound of twigs snapping beneath feet and there stood Jeremy, baseball bat in hand and a smirk planted across his ugly face.

"And I thought that I was fucked up"

I want to give a massive thank you to everyone who has followed this story, added it to favourites or reviewed. You guys are amazing and let me know if you want more, reviews are always helpful :)