Dean had wanted to cry right along with his brother after Jessica died; he had wanted to pull his brother close and make it okay. The only problem was the rift, the giant tear in his relationship with Sam. Dean was the enemy, the one who had initially hurt Sam. Dean knew better than to try and stitch the cut, his fear of rejection pushing him to simply drive Sam away from the normal life that had stole him and onward into the night. Facing monsters was easier than facing the tears and distant look on his brother's face.

Time moved slowly after Jessica had died; a thousand distant faces and a thousand ghosts begging Sam to come home. Dean was inside a shell, isolated from his haunted brother, and all but dead inside. The cold existence quickly turned to numb, a pact with the ghosts to simply exist. There was no feeling outside of pain and need, Dean filled his time with women, food, and the simple pleasures that helped him hide from the truth. Sam was always going to be that truth for Dean, the one thing worth living for. Dean let his eyes roll closed, his mind blank as he avoided images of Sam, before he slipped into another world all together.

Sam was spread out under Dean, his fingertips trailing up Dean's back in slow circles. Chills spread quickly down Dean's spine as he leaned down to seal his lips over his brother's, sucking the plump bottom lip in to his mouth. Dean let his hands trace down Sam's bare flesh, his fingers flicking over the hard nub of dusky nipple before traveling lower. Opening his mouth, Dean let Sam explore his mouth, nearly moaning as their tongues met at long last. It was all perfect, slow and gentle as the world finally shifted into perfection. Dean let his hand explore lower, fingers trailing down the small line of hair leading to his brother's groin. Gripping firmly and pulling up his brother's erection, Dean couldn't help but moan into Sam's lips. Everything was spinning as his brother rocked up into his hand, as though time made no difference and they were teenagers fooling around again. Only, Dean wasn't fooling around. He wanted to be with Sam, he wanted this caress to mean more than it did. He wanted to make everything right again, to kiss away the pain.

The pain was never going to fade, but the pleasure could only build, so Dean focused on that. Slipping past Sam's balls, Dean's finger slowly circled the tight knot of Sam's wrinkled hole. Pushing knuckle deep, Dean moaned in unison with his brother as he slid deeper. Crooking his finger, he gently teased his little brother's prostate. Soft sounds fell from Sam's lips, his eyes closed tight against the sudden waves of pleasure. Dean reached out for a tube of lube, slicking another finger before pushing inside of his brother. Stretching and scissoring his brother open, until he could squeeze another finger into the tight heat.

Pulling free from the perfect warmth, Dean watched Sam's hole greedily twitch in anticipation before lining up. Pushing gently inside, Dean moaned at the sudden heat around his cock head. His brother's legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his thighs as he was pulled deeper, finally balls deep. Dean pressed his lips against Sam's, hoping to prolong the connection, to prove that this was real and not in his mind. Desperate pleads fell from Sam's mouth, his breath skating across Dean's lips. Circling his hips, Dean began to gently explore the tight heat. Angling his hips, Dean began to circle faster, his cock head catching Sam's prostate with each pull.

Wrapping his fingers around his brother's erection, Dean began to pull his brother towards his release. Obscenities fell from both brothers' lips; pleads and demands swirling together as they moved as one. All too soon Dean felt his balls clenching, his hand pulling faster, his thumb flicking over the head to smear his brother's precome. Warmth covered his hand as hot ropes of come shot out of Sam, his ass clenching in a too tight glove around Dean, practically pulling his orgasm from him. Trembling as waves of pleasure washed over him, Dean moaned Sam's name.

"Dean? Dean, wake the fuck up." Sam's voice cut through the vivid image and sensations, pulling him from the perfect world he had discovered.

"Wha…?" Dean forced his eyes to open, his lungs burning as he sucked in a deep breath, dizzy in the after shocks of his orgasm.

"You're fucking sick, you know that? Jacking off in the same room as your brother and then moaning his name. We are over, Dean, you saw to that years ago." Sam was angry, his eyes practically burning Dean.

"I…I was sleeping. I didn't mean-"

"Yeah, well I have to deal with it. I don't want to know you dream about fucking me. And I don't want to wake up to you screaming my name as you finish, whether you are sleeping or not." Sam backed away, his eyes distant as he looked at his brother like he was a monster that needed hunted.

"Sam, if I could go back and change what I did-" Dean was cut off again by his brother, his frustration slowly building.

"I don't want to hear this shit, Dean. It is over; it has been over for a long fucking time. I'm sick of feeling like you're my everything, like I am suppose to just forget that fact that you abandoned me in my time of need after promising me everything. Go fuck your bar wenches and leave me out of it. Fuck off." Sam's hands shook as he threw out an arm, sending all of the items resting on the bed stand flying.

"Sammy, calm the fuck down. It was just a dream." Dean wanted to pull himself from the bed, to force Sam to stop throwing a pathetic tantrum, but he was covered in come and twisted in damp sheets.

"You calm down, I'm going out. Don't fucking hold your breath, I may not come back." Sam shook his head and headed for the door, stopping only to pull on jeans and a jacket.

"Sit the fuck down," Dean commanded, knowing it was futile.

"Make me." Sam waited a moment, waiting for Dean to move. "I thought so." Sam rolled his eyes as he threw the door open, slamming it behind him as he wondered off into the night.

Dean could only stare in awe at the closed door, his heart lodged in his throat as he swallowed around the bitter taste of rejection. Pulling himself free from the soiled bed, Dean made quick work of washing the sin away from his skin. The image of Sam slamming the door played on repeat in his mind, reminding him that the time to fight for his relationship with Sam had long since past. The only thing he could hope to fight for was his brother, the brother who had just lost the woman and life he loved. Guilt washed through Dean as his eyes lingered on the door hoping in vain to see the only person who could save him.

(A/N: Thanks to MissTripTucker, who happens to have great stories, for being my beta. Reviews=happy fangirl dances…and this fangirl has bright blue spikey hair….you wanna see me dance don't you? REVIEW!)