Title: Into the Light

Author: Wincesteriffic Kaz

Info: Sexy just got scary. The owners of the boys' favorite BDSM club call for a little support and what should be a deliciously naughty vacation for all concerned becomes something much darker and deadly. Hurt/Comfort/Angst and oh yes, Dom!Dean, Sub!Sam and an energetic foursome. Dean/Sam 9th in the 'BYC Verse'

Author's Note: I love you all for putting up with my love of cliffhangers. *huggles* Also, being a sub myself, I do kind of enjoy the threats of bodily harm. Heh heh heh I've been naughty. I should probably be spanked. :P

Graphic depictions within. Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em but if I did, they'd never get dressed.

~Reviews are love~

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Sam turned to follow Steve and spun back to the window as a voice cried out in the night beyond. "No!" Sam barely managed to grab a hold of Steve before the man could dive through the window.

"That was Joe!" Steve struggled against Sam's grip, desperate to reach his partner. "Let me go! Sam, please!"

"Steve, stop!" Sam dropped his shotgun and wrapped both arms around the distraught man, using his height and muscle mass to hold him back. "Wait for Dean!" He grunted when one of Steve's elbows banged into his stomach. "Please."

Steve threw himself against Sam's hold, needing so badly to reach Joe, and yelped in surprise when they both went over backwards. He thumped hard onto Sam's body beneath him and rolled to the side as Sam's arms dropped away. "Sam? Oh, shit, Sam. I'm... I'm sorry." Steve scrambled to lift the man's head and shoulders into his lap and brushed Sam's dark hair from his face. "Are you ok?"

Sam nodded, coughed and swallowed. The impact with the floor had sent his head spinning dangerously. "Don't... don't go out there."

"I won't. I promise. I'm sorry." Steve's head jerked around at the sound of a shotgun firing outside, but he kept his promise. He stayed on the floor holding Sam, while the younger Winchester found his bearings again. "Are you alright?"

Sam nodded carefully. "Uh... think so." He put a hand to his head and then stilled. "Steve. The window." he watched his breath puff out in front of his face and Steve's as well and a sinking feeling ran through him. "Oh, no."

"Sam, what..." Steve's voice broke off in a surprised shout as he was yanked away from Sam by invisible hands. "SAM!"

Chapter 4

Dean walked cautiously away from the house. He watched the thick carpet of grass around him and saw the marks of something's passing. There were drag marks and, as he bent for a closer look, the distinctive shape of the footprints of the creature that seemed to be stalking them. "Oh, man," he said sadly and then glared out into the night. "Dammit, Joe. Don't you dare be dead." He rose to his feet, settled his shotgun in his grip and followed the drag marks through the grass toward a copse of trees at the back corner of the property. He wanted to call out for Joe, to hear some response, but he couldn't risk alerting the creature, whatever the hell it was, to his presence before he found it.

Dean slowed at the trees and listened. For a moment, there was nothing; then he heard something thump into the ground, the trees shake, and then a loud grunt of pain that could only be Joe. He raised his gun and pushed through the screen of branches carefully. They parted and, in the gloom of the corner of the protecting wall, he found Joe. The man lay on his back, bare-chested, spread-eagle, motionless, and alone.

"Dammit," Dean hissed. He looked around the edge of their little hiding place but couldn't see any sign of the creature. He shook his head, not liking it one bit but seeing no other choice. Dean eased across the ten feet to Joe and knelt beside him. "Joe? You alright?"

Joe blinked and opened his eyes. He looked up and saw a dark shadow looming over him. In his dazed state, he panicked and threw his arms up to defend himself. "No!"

"Hey. Hey!" Dean grabbed hold of one of Joe's hands. "Joe, it's me! It's Dean!" He held on until Joe slowly calmed. "You with me?"

Joe tried to slow his panicked breathing and focused on the fact that it was somehow Dean leaning over him. "Dean?"

"Yeah." Dean loosened his grip on Joe's hand to something more comforting. "Are you hurt? Did you see where it went?"

Joe shook his head slowly. His head felt like it was filled with cotton balls. He closed his eyes. "It... the window. I opened the w-window. It was hot. I didn't think... oh, God. It just grabbed me!" He opened his eyes and trembled with fear. "It... it pulled me through the window!"

"Shh. Keep your voice down," Dean warned but Joe was too upset to listen.

"It had a hand, or a... a paw, something on my chest, and it was like I c-couldn't breathe." Joe gasped with the memory and clasped both hands around Dean's arm, needing the contact.

"Shit," Dean cursed. He couldn't free his left arm from Joe's grasp, so he grudgingly set the shotgun down and felt around the man's chest with his right. He grimaced when he felt warm, wet blood on Joe's bare skin. "I gotta get you outta here, ok? Can you move?" Joe gave him a small nod. "Alright. We're gonna go back to the house for Steve and Sam and get the hell out of Dodge for the night. It's gonna be ok. You just gotta keep it together a little longer." He pried Joe's fingers from his arm and grabbed his shotgun. "Here we go."

"All... alright." Joe felt tears running down his cheeks but didn't have composure to even care about trying to stop them. He took the hand Dean held down to him and tried to brace himself for the movement. Joe gritted his teeth, holding a hand over the burning pain he could now feel across his chest, and looked up. The breath stuttered to a stop in his lungs. Glowing orange eyes looked out at him from the trees a few feet away, behind Dean's back. He opened his mouth and no sound came out. Joe swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Dean! Behind you!"

Dean yanked Joe to his feet and spun, leading with his shotgun. Still, he wasn't quite fast enough. The creature leaped from the cover of the trees and slammed into them both. Joe's voice filled the little clearing in a pain-filled shout. Dean rolled to his knees and brought his gun up. "Hey, ugly!" he yelled and fired. The rock salt hit the creature. It gave a deep, angry hiss and bounded back into the trees and out of sight.

"Son of a bitch," Dean groaned and got to his feet. He went to Joe and pulled him up again. "Come on. Move!" He grunted in pain, feeling a burning along his left hip and pushed it away. There was no time for him to be wounded too. "Joe, come on." He slipped Joe's arm over his shoulders and shivered as his brown hair, longer even than Sam's, slipped across his neck. Dean shook himself mentally at the sensation. How the hell was he finding ANYTHING about this situation even vaguely arousing? He forced his attention back to the immediate problem of getting them both out of there in one piece. He gently urged Joe forward. "Let's move, buddy. I've got you."

They moved in a stagger to the trees, and Dean struggled to keep the shotgun up and Joe tight against his side. "You can do this. Just keep walking." They came out of the screen of trees, ducking under the overhanging boughs, and Joe startled against him as Steve's voice carried clearly through the night air. He was screaming for Sam.

"No," Dean breathed in denial. "We've got to move!"

"Steve." Joe took some of his own weight and moved along beside Dean as quickly as he could. "It couldn't have... have gotten to them already. Right?"

Dean nodded but didn't say anything. He knew the creature wasn't their only problem. "Few more yards." He craned his neck to look behind them, but there was no sign of the creature. He looked back to the house and scowled, seeing the curtain billowing out of the window he had left through. That Sam had never gotten the window closed meant he'd probably not managed to get the salt line re-poured. "Dammit."

"What?" Joe asked breathlessly. Fear was skittering up and down his spine. He couldn't shake the feeling that the thing was watching them; was waiting to snatch him away again. It made it hard to breathe.

"Ok, I don't want you to freak out." Dean slowed as they neared the side of the house and the EMF meter in his pocket started to whine, growing in volume the closer they came. "Sam didn't fall. There's a ghost in your house and it knocked him out."

"A... a ghost?" Joe asked in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Dean nodded. "It locked the gate on us when we got here and was blocking your cell phones when we tried to call you." He eased Joe up to the wall beside the window. "I'm thinkin' it's all the renovating we've been doing that honked him off. Knocking down walls, moving shit around..."

"Tearing up carpets? They get pissed about that?" Joe rubbed a hand over his face and tried to process what he was hearing. Coming on top of just being grabbed by some creature out of a horror story, it was beyond overwhelming.

"Oh, yeah. They can." Dean quickly reloaded his shotgun and jacked a fresh round into the chamber. "We could go around to the back deck to get in. It'd be easier on you, but I'm afraid if we do that, the ghost'll lock the door down and we'll just have to come back here." He scowled. "And I can't leave you out here unprotected. You think you can get back in that window if I help?"

"To get to Steve, I can climb the damn house." Joe nodded firmly. "Help me up there."

Dean smiled and clasped a hand to Joe's shoulder for a moment in support. "Ok." He leaned around and looked in the window, hoping to see his brother and Steve, but the room was empty. His heart sank. "Ok, come on." Dean jumped and easily climbed in the window. His left hip protested the movement, and he staggered as he righted himself. He reached back out the window and Joe was there to clasp his arm. "Kick off and I'll pull."

Joe nodded. He took a deep breath and jumped, trusting Dean to keep a hold of him. He yelped when his wounded chest scraped across the window sill, and he was panting by the time Dean had him in the room and was holding him up against his chest.

"Easy. Just breathe. You're alright," Dean soothed even as he took in the room. Something bad had definitely happened since he'd left. One of the chairs was overturned, a bookshelf had been toppled, and the door was standing open, knocked half off the hinges with the once-whole salt line that looked as though it had been scattered by a stiff wind.

"What... what is that?" Joe asked wearily. He straightened against Dean and reached for his left pocket and the electronic whine coming from it.

"EMF meter." Dean moved further into the room and settled Joe on the arm of the couch, leaning there. "Measures electromagnetic activity." He snorted softly. "Which means it goes off for outlets and light bulbs too, but it doesn't sing like this unless there's something dead in the area." He tilted his head and groaned as he bent down and scooped Sam's shotgun from the floor. "Dammit, Sam."

"Where are they?" Joe asked and wrapped his arms around himself. He looked down at his chest and gasped, seeing the shallow gouges across his chest, four of them like something had clawed him.

"I don't know." Dean shook his head and then looked at Joe. "Shit, we gotta do something about those."

"But Steve and Sam..."

"You think Steve won't kick my ass if I let you run around bleeding all over the place?" He managed a smile and went looking for the bathroom. "I know what I'd do to you guys if you let Sam pull a walking wounded routine."

Joe couldn't help but chuckle at that and it made him feel slightly better. He shuddered and slid down the arm until he was sitting on the couch. He leaned back and tried to take shallow breaths to move his wounded chest as little as possible, letting his head fall back on the couch. "Fuck."

"Maybe later," Dean quipped as he returned. He kicked the coffee table closer and sat down in between Joe's knees with the first aid kit he'd found. It was surprisingly well-stocked. "Have you patched up in a minute and then we can go find our boys, alright?" Joe gave him a nod. "Alright. This ain't gonna be pleasant. I need to disinfect these before I cover them. It's gonna sting like a bitch."

Joe groaned. "I can take it." He cracked an eye and smirked as Dean leaned toward him with a gauze pad soaked in alcohol. "Steve's got this paddle..." he let the sentence trail off as he chuckled, but it quickly turned into a pained gasp with the first touch of the gauze. "Crap! That's not nearly as much fun without the foreplay," he managed when he got his breath back.

"Easy. Sorry." It was killing Dean to be sitting there instead of searching that whole damn mansion to find his brother, but he couldn't just leave Joe bleeding. "Ask me something," Dean said and flicked a glance up to Joe's face.

"Wha-what?" Joe lifted his head and met Dean's gaze.

Dean smiled. "Ask me anything. Take your mind off it while I do this."

Joe nodded and slumped back, trying not to twitch while the gauze caused him well-meaning pain. "Uh, can I ask..."

"Anything," Dean said again and bent to get the deepest of the four marks at the base of Joe's sternum. He knew there was no way that one wasn't screaming pain every time the man breathed and he marveled that Joe was taking it so well.

"Ok, Um..." Joe swallowed. "You and Sam. How did that, did you guys... I mean, I swear it doesn't bother me. I'm just... morbidly curious I guess."

Dean's hands stilled in surprise for just a moment and then he bent back to his task. "Not what I expected, but ok. I figured you'd wanna know about ghosts or something."

Joe closed his eyes and mentally kicked himself. "I'm sorry. Forget it. I shouldn't have..."

"I don't mind. There was this amulet." Dean blew out a breath and grabbed a fresh piece of gauze. "It was a hypnotist's amulet, and I accidentally whammied Sam with it. It's kind of a long story, but we both sorta had to fess up after that." He smirked. "Turns out we'd been burnin' a torch for each other since our teens and both thought we were sick twists for it and hid it all those years."

"How long... crap, ow. How long have you two been, you know, together? Shit." Joe curled up at a particularly painful sting and grasped the hand Dean gave him to hold on to gratefully until it passed. He fell back again and wheezed in a breath. "Sorry."

"Quit apologizing and a couple of years I guess." Dean shrugged and started taping bandages in place across Joe's chest. "It was a little terrifying at first, you know? I mean he's my little brother. I've been takin' care of his ass since he was born, but..." He frowned, really thinking about it as he worked. "The way we grew up? We didn't have anything but each other; couldn't trust anyone but each other. I don't think we ever stood a chance of not fallin' for each other."

"And you wouldn't... wouldn't have it any other way," Joe finished with a smile and opened his eyes again to look at Dean. "You guys love each other so damn much it almost hurts watching you sometimes. I mean, that's like, epic love story."

Dean snorted and taped the last bandage in place. "More like Harlequin romance novel of the week some days. Just bad porn on the others. Come on. Here." He grabbed a shirt he'd found in the bathroom and handed it to Joe.

"Thanks. It seems like you've done this before."

"Too damn much," Dean sighed.

Joe pulled the shirt on with a pang in his heart. It was Steve's. He buttoned it and stood with Dean's help. "What do we do?"

"Here." Dean picked up Sam's shotgun and handed it to Joe. "Point and shoot if you see something impossible."

Joe was surprised into a laugh and settled the sawed-off shotgun in his grip. "Ok. Lucky for you, my dad was a gun enthusiast."

Dean picked up his own gun and headed for the door. He let a bit of a command tone slip into his voice, knowing Joe would respond to it automatically. "You stay next to me. I don't want you running off. If this bastard splits us up, we're in trouble, so you stick by me." He looked over at Joe and caught his eyes. "You're my backup here."

Joe sobered with that and nodded. "Not leaving you."

"Let's go find them." Dean stepped out into the hall and just about jumped out of his skin when his phone went off over the constant whine of the meter. "Shit." He fumbled it out of his pocket and answered it. "Bobby, now is not a good time."

"Dean? What's going on?" Bobby asked worriedly, hearing the tone in Dean's voice.

"We've got a spook in the house and its got Sam and a friend of ours." Dean met Joe's eyes and sighed. "Also, our creature had another go at us."

"Balls. How come you boys can never just keep things simple? Alright; well, there's nothing you can do about the creature right now anyway." Bobby tapped the book in front of him and sat back with the phone. "It's pretty much unkillable except in daylight."

"Awesome," Dean rolled his eyes and started down the hall toward the center of the house.

"A ghost? Really?" Bobby asked and tried not to think about what might have already happened to Sam; or what would happen if Dean lost his brother. He knew he'd be burying the last of the Winchesters in no time flat and he went cold with fear. "What can I do?"

Dean stopped and thought. "You up for more research?" He rattled off the address of the mansion. "It was bought recently, but this place is big and old. Gotta be something somewhere on it."

"If there is, I'll find it." Bobby was already scribbling the address down while his laptop booted. "You go find our boy."

"I will," Dean said firmly, with no room for doubt and put his phone away. "Don't you die on me, Sammy," he whispered to himself and started further into the house, looking for any sign of their passing. "If the meter in my pocket screams or the temperature drops, that means Casper's about to be on us. So you... son of a bitch!" Dean shouted as the lights went off and they were plunged into darkness.

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Pain was the first thing Sam was aware of. It throbbed all along his body in every limb. Then came the cold. He was shivering and lying on something hard. He groaned softly and lifted his arms. They ached and he remembered a dizzying swirl of motion as he'd been pulled down a flight of stairs before everything had gone black. He heard the sound of breathing somewhere close to him. Sam forced his eyes open in the spite of how badly he wanted to pass back out.

"Steve?" Sam called as loud as he dared. Still, the sound of his own voice shot pain through his head. "Fuck, that hurts. Steve?"

A soft moan answered him, and Sam forced his protesting body to roll to his side. It was a mistake. He scrambled to get his arms underneath him and threw up violently. It seemed to on forever but passed at last and left him gasping for breath. Sam rocked slowly back onto his knees and blinked to clear his vision. It was dark, but not pitch black. The dim glow of an emergency light gave him just enough illumination to see that he was in the cellar of the big house. There were unfinished concrete walls, stacks of boxes labeled 'bar', and rolls of carpeting all waiting for the club to be built upstairs.

His eyes adjusted and roamed around the long room he was in. He sucked in a breath when he saw a body against the wall across from him. He could just make out blonde hair in the meager light. "Steve." Sam crawled slowly over to the man and put a shaking hand on his chest. "Steve, please be alright." Sam smiled in relief as Steve moaned and rolled his head toward the sound of Sam's voice. "That's it. Wake up." He gently ran his hand over Steve's chest and then his shoulders and arms looking for broken ribs and bones, amazed when he didn't find any.

"God," Steve said in a hoarse whisper as he swam back to wakefulness. He felt caring hands running over his body. In the dim light, he could just make out Sam leaning over him. "Sam. Wha'... what happened?"

"The ghost." Sam sat back a little. He rested his head in one hand, balancing himself with the other on Steve's chest. "We're in the basement."

Steve's eyes opened wide in shock. "How the hell did we get down here?"

"The ghost dragged us." Sam smiled ruefully. "Like two sacks of potatoes down the stairs."

"Jesus." Steve cautiously got his elbows under him, trying to sit up, and he caught Sam's hand as it slid down his chest. "Sam, are you alright?"

"Been better," Sam admitted with a small laugh, then added "Been worse, too, so there's that."

"Oh, man. Your head." Steve sat up all the way and wrapped an arm around Sam. He smelled the faint odor of vomiting and knew without having to ask that Sam had thrown up getting to him. "Come here. I've got you."

"I'm ok," Sam protested, but he allowed himself a moment of weakness and rested his aching head on Steve's shoulder.

"Are we safe?" Steve asked softly, warily, and felt the answering shake of Sam's head against him.

"Playing with us." Sam lifted his head carefully. "We have to get back upstairs. Dean."

"Ok, Sam. Ok." Steve pulled his legs in and groaned softly at the pain all over his body. "Feel like I was dumped in a cement mixer."

"Fairly accurate," Sam chuckled. He braced a hand on the floor to stand and ended up tilting into Steve instead.

"Hey. Hey." Steve caught Sam against him again. He could feel Sam shaking with cold and frowned worriedly. "We really need to get you somewhere warm. Let me help."

Sam nodded. He focused on not throwing up again as Steve slowly and painfully got them both on their feet. Once there, Steve was the only thing that kept Sam from sliding back to the floor in a heap.

"You're alright." Steve grunted under the weight of keeping Sam standing and braced them both against the wall.

"Sorry." Sam took a deep breath and planted his more securely beneath him. "I've got it." He couldn't afford to give in to his injuries, not while he had Steve to protect. "We need to move. If you see any..." Sam had to stop and swallow hard as his throat tried to crawl back up his throat. "... anything made of iron, grab it. It can hurt spirits. Temp... temporarily banish them, like the salt."

"Alright. Lean on me, Sam. Come on." Steve didn't take no for an answer and pulled the taller man's arm across his shoulders, holding firmly onto Sam's right wrist.

"Emergency lights." Sam wrapped his free hand around his aching skull and wished he still had his shotgun. "Ghost must have, uh, knocked out the power. Or he just likes screwing with it." Sam startled as dots connected in his head. "That's why the motion lights didn't come on." He looked over at Steve. "When we first went out looking for the creature. The lights didn't come on right away. The spirit must have been keeping them off."

"I just can't wrap my head around ghosts being real." Steve sighed and adjusted his grip on Sam to steady him. "I mean, you see this kind of shit on TV, not in real life. What about psychics? They're still full of shit, right?"

Sam coughed. "Um, well, some of them, yeah. But some are real too." He didn't mention his visions to Steve. He didn't even want to begin to explain about all of that, or worse, finally give the man a reason to look at him like the freak he believed he was.

"Wow." Steve considered making a bad joke about lottery numbers, but something in Sam's voice, some odd undertone he couldn't place, told him the joke probably wouldn't be appreciated. "Ok, stairs are this way, I think. Pretty sure where we are."

"Glad one of us is," Sam said on a groan as the world did a lazy spin around him.

"Shit, Sam. Hang on." Steve stopped and wrapped both arms around Sam's torso, just barely keeping the larger man on his feet. "Sam? Can you talk to me?" The fear he'd been keeping at bay came back full force when Sam's head dropped to his shoulder and then Sam's knees went out and took them both to the floor. "Sam, don't. Stay with me, ok?" He palmed the side of Sam's face to get a look at him.

Sam scrunched his eyes tightly shut while a fresh wave of pain trampled through his skull. It ended and Sam opened his sluggish eyes to realize he was kneeling on the floor with Steve holding him. "Crap."

"Yeah," Steve said with a relieved smile. He watched Sam blink repeatedly and felt him slowly steadying and smoothed a thumb over his cheek when Sam's eyes met his again. "Ready to move again?"

"Sorry." Sam turned, leaving his arm over Steve's shoulders. "One too many knocks to the head today."

Steve nodded. He swallowed back his own fear and turned them to the right. "I think... yeah." He smiled when the stairs appeared, bathed in the glow of an emergency light. "Those go right up into the kitchen. We're gonna put the wine cellar down here."

"Good. That's good." Sam put a hand out to the wall to help ground him against the swaying he knew was only in his head. "Kitchen means salt. We'll get that and then we can..."

"What?" Steve looked on as his breath and Sam's misted out before them. "Oh, God. It's... it's coming back, isn't it?"

Sam nodded. He pushed away from Steve and leaned against the wall instead. "Get up the stairs. Get to the kitchen and find all the salt you can. Pour a ring around yourself. It'll keep you safe until Dean finds you."

"You're coming with me." Steve reached out to take Sam's arm, but he was shaken off.

"No. I'll slow you down." Sam looked up the flight of stairs, and to him right then it looked like Mount Everest. "I'm not gonna make it up those fast. You will. When it comes to this crap, you do what I say," Sam ordered the man. He managed a small smile. "Later, when we get out of this mess, you can remind me what happens to bossy subs." He was rewarded with a hint of a very Dean-like smirk, and he took Steve's shoulder to give him a shove toward the stairs. "You ring yourself in salt and then you start yelling for Dean. He has to know where we are. Go, Steve. Go!"

Steve felt his heart in his throat as he backed away from Sam. "Sam."

"I'll be fine," Sam assured him, but he didn't really believe it. "Run!" He watched Steve turn and run for the stairs as the air around him chilled even further. His body shuddered forcefully with the cold. "Come on," Sam muttered as Steve jogged quickly up the stairs. "You come after me. Here I am." He turned to put his back to the wall and wrapped an arm across his sore ribs while ice crystals formed on his lashes, obscuring his vision, and a glowing white shape began to form in front of him. "Wounded prey, asshole." Sam swiped an arm through the forming ghost, turned, and ran deeper into the cellar, leading it safely away from Steve.

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Dean almost wished for blood. At least that would have left a trail for them to follow. As it was, he was going to room to room out of necessity, checking each because calling for his brother and Steve had earned them nothing, so either they were too far in the house to hear him, or, more worrying, they weren't in any condition to answer back.

"Dammit. Where the hell are they?" Dean snarled and kicked another door open onto an empty room, shining his flashlight inside and turning away angrily.

"It's a big house." Joe was having trouble containing his fear, both for himself and for Steve and Sam. It was Dean who was keeping him calm. Rather than panic, the elder Winchester was methodically and quickly searching every room as they moved and still casting a glance to Joe every so often to make sure he was still on his feet.

"They couldn't have gone far." Dean stalked into the entry hall of the house and played his light around the room. His eyes narrowed when he spotted an overturned planter on the far side, near the door leading back to the kitchens. "There. That wasn't knocked over when we came in. Sam!"

"Steve!" Joe shouted and groaned, hunching over his chest. "Damn."

"Let me do the yelling," Dean placed a hand briefly on the man's shoulder and gave a lock of his hair a small tug until Joe smiled weakly. "We're gonna find them." He waited for Joe to give him a nod and started off toward the kitchens. He had a feeling they were getting close. Suddenly, he heard a door bang loudly somewhere ahead of them and then Steve's voice was echoing through the hall.

"Dean!"

"That's Steve!" Joe jumped ahead a step and then stopped himself, remembering what Dean had told him, not to go running off and leave him without any backup."

"Come on." Dean smiled and appreciated the fact that Joe had managed to catch himself and not overreact. Together, they ran across the wide entry and into a short hall. They burst into the kitchen and found Steve tearing open cabinets in the moonlight that streamed through the big window. "Steve!" Dean ran and grabbed the man and had to dance out of the way when Joe barreled past him and threw himself at his partner.

"Oh my, God. Joe." Steve encircled Joe in a hard hug, pressing him to his chest and buried his face in the man's neck. "You're ok. Thank, God. I thought..."

"I'm ok," Joe cried into Steve's shirt and fisted two handfuls of the fabric, not even caring about the pain that burned through his chest with the embrace. "Dean saved me."

"Steve. Where's Sam?" Dean demanded. A quick look around the kitchen had made it clear Steve was alone.

"Cellar." Steve pulled back from Joe finally and met Dean's anguished eyes. "He's in the cellar. He... he took another knock to the head. He couldn't make it up the stairs, and the... the ghost was coming back." He looked down at Joe and back to Dean and hated himself a little. "He made me leave him. He told me to find salt and protect myself and call for you so you'd know where we were."

"You did the right thing." Dean said, though it cost him. The thought that his little brother was now alone beneath the house with a violent ghost terrified him and made him want to scream, but he knew Sam was right to have sent Steve ahead. "You do what Sam said. The two of you stay here and stay safe until I come back."

"Dean, no! I can't!" Steve shook his head vehemently. "I can't just leave him down there again! I'm coming with you."

"Joe's hurt," Dean said bluntly. He nodded when Steve's mouth fell open. "I need you to stay up here and keep each other safe until we can all get out of here. Joe's got the salt gun. If that asshole Casper shows up, you shoot him."

"I will," Joe said surely but he was speaking to Dean's back, the man already disappearing through the door down to the cellar. He stopped Steve when he started after Dean.

Steve snarled and closed his eyes. "Ok, he's right. He's right. I know it." He turned to Joe instead and his eyes blew wide when he saw spots of blood Joe's shirt. "Oh, my God, baby!"

"Whoa, I'm alright!" Joe gasped as Steve's fingers inadvertently pressed against his wounds while he pulled up his shirt. "Stop, I'm... Dean patched me up enough for now."

Steve's breath stopped in his throat. His hands hovered over the covered marks on his lover's chest and tears pricked at his eyes, both for how close he had come to losing Joe and for the fact that Dean, despite probably being frantic with worry for his Sam, had taken the time to make sure Joe was taken care of.

"Steve?" Joe raised his free hand, the one not still holding the shotgun, to Steve's cheek. "Are you ok?"

Steve sniffed. He cleared his throat and gently pulled Joe's shirt back down. It struck him as he did that it was actually one of his own shirts and he smiled. "Hang on." He turned and pulled the big container of salt he'd found out of the cupboard, then went to the stove and plucked an antique, long-handled ladle from the back of it. "Solid iron," he told Joe as he turned around to face him again. "Sam said iron will work just as well salt. We're going after them."

"Dean told us to wait!" Joe shook his head.

"I know." Steve went back to him and carded his fingers back through Joe's shoulder-length brown hair fondly. "And I know what I felt when I knew you were gone, when I heard you scream out there." He gritted his teeth and placed a hand atop Joe's chest. "When I saw the blood. I know what Dean's feeling right now too, and I can't leave him alone for that. I can't abandon Sam. Not again."

Joe's resolve firmed and he straightened his back. "Ok. But, if Dean gets pissed about this later, promise you'll let him spank me?"

Steve was surprised into a chuckle, though he could hear the thread of fear in Joe's voice. "Deal." He leaned forward and traded a quick brush of lips with his partner and then headed for the stairs.

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"Sammy!" Dean yelled when he reached the bottom of the cellar stairs. He'd hoped that he would find him there waiting but he was gone. Fled or taken, he had no way of knowing. "Sam!" He jogged down the hall and reached a t-junction. He looked left and right, shining his light each way and moved closer to the wall on the right. There were four faint marks scraped across the surface of the wall; fingernails.

"Jesus, Sam," Dean breathed and knew this was his brother's way of leaving him a trail. The meter in his pocket had gone silent as he ran down the stairs, but it began to whine again as he moved down the hall, slowly gaining volume to let him know he was getting closer. "Sam!"

Dean pushed open a door onto a small room and found crates of wine bottles but no sign of his brother. He pulled the door closed and kept moving. "Sam, you answer me, dammit!"

"Dean!"

The sound of his brother's voice made Dean's heart pound in his chest. It was close, and Dean broke into a run again. He heard what sounded like some sort of scuffle, a series of thumps, and then Sam's voice raised in a shout of pain. "No!" Dean kicked open a door at the end of the hall and shined his flashlight into the room. Sam was on the floor across from him, sitting with his back to the door. "Sammy."

"Dean." Sam sobbed out a breath and reached one arm out as his brother slid to his knees beside him. He shivered when Dean's warm fingers slid over his hand and up his arm. "He's here. Guy's pissed."

"Yeah, I noticed." Dean grimaced, taking in the trickle of blood from Sam's left temple. "Damn. Where else are you hurt?"

Sam shook his head slowly and leaned in to Dean's presence. "Ghost is strong." He pulled his other hand up and held out a short, iron poker. "Found it when he tossed me into a box. That hurt."

Dean smiled for his brother, always thinking on his feet. Even injured and barely standing, Sam had managed to protect Steve, get him to relative safety, and find a weapon of his own. "We're gonna get out of here. Steve and Joe are upstairs. They're safe."

"Joe?" Sam's eyes shot open and he stared up at his brother. "He's alright?"

Dean grinned. "Yeah. He's gonna have a few new scars, but he's ok for now. He's got your gun."

"Good." Sam slipped his arm over his brother's shoulders and rolled his face into his neck. "My head... s'bad."

"It's ok. I've got you." Dean stood cautiously, pulling Sam up with him. "Take this." He put the flashlight into the hand hanging over his shoulder. "Casper killed the lights in the whole damn house."

Sam nodded with a soft groan. "Know. I know. Emergency lights... down here." He bent forward a little while swallowing repeatedly to stave off the need to throw up again.

"You gonna yak?" Dean watched his brother's profile and knew that look, but Sam shook his head.

"Nothing left. Should... we should move." Sam clenched his hand more tightly around the poker. "S'gonna be back."

Dean frowned, realizing that Sam had already been throwing up, but he pushed it down. There'd be time for that later. "Ok. Here we go. One foot in front of the other. You can do that." He started forward, and it took Sam a couple steps to catch up but he managed. "That's it. You got it. Just keep moving. Don't make me carry your heavy ass."

Sam chuckled and got his head up enough to watch where they were going and shine the flashlight ahead of them, albeit unsteadily.

Dean shook his head as they reached the hall and started back the way he had come. "Dude, how did you even manage to run this far?"

"Steve," Sam said simply. "Ghost was coming. Had to... to draw it off."

"So he could come find me." Dean squeezed Sam a little tighter against him. "You did good, Sammy." He tensed when the EMF meter in his pocket began to whine steadily into the upper register again. "Asshole couldn't wait until we were out of the damn cellar?"

"No." The word echoed through the hall and stopped both men in their tracks.

"Uh... Dean?" Sam swallowed.

"Great. That can't be good." Dean groaned and started them moving again. He kept his shotgun level, waiting for any sign of the spirit so he could blast it away again. "Just keep move... shit!" he yelled, feeling invisible hands grasp the front of his jacket and he was lifted from his feet. Dean flew sideways through the air and into the door he had kicked open before. He landed in crash and shower of glass and wine and that blinded him for a moment.

"Dean!" Sam staggered to his knees with the loss of his brother's support. He saw him crash into a stack of boxes and heard glass shatter. Sam used the door frame to get unsteadily back to his feet. The flashlight spun inside the room in a dizzying, disco effect as the light twirled and flashed. For just a moment, he caught sight of his brother's shotgun between them on the floor and he started for it.

"Fuck," Dean groaned. He coughed and spat wine from his mouth while he scrubbed his hands over his face to clear his eyes so he could see. "Sam? You ok?"

"Better than... than you." Sam groaned and hit his knees again as his head spun dizzily.

"Doubt that." Dean lifted up on his elbows. He hissed out a pained breath, feeling broken glass poking and slicing in various places. "Dammit. You see him?"

"No." Sam reached out toward the shotgun and reared back as the spirit appeared before him. "Uh, yes. Dean, look out!" He lunged forward again reaching for the shotgun, and the ghost flung it away from his hand. Sam scrambled backward and startled badly when a shotgun blast sounded over his head. The spirit dispersed with an enraged scream, and then hands were sliding behind his back and pushing him up.

"Sam?" Steve held on to the shaking man.

"Holy crap," Sam slumped back into his arms and pointed while the whine from the EMF went silent. "Dean. Help Dean."

"No, Joe. I'll do it. Here Sam." Steve propped him against the door and went quickly to his brother. "Dean? Oh my, God!" He stared at the man and his eyes couldn't even make sense of just how much red Dean was covered in. A sickening feeling churned through his stomach, the feeling that he was looking at a dead man and then Dean moved. "You're alive?" he asked, shocked.

"Wine." Dean wiped his face off again and held out an arm. "It's fucking... it's wine! I'm covered in it. Get me up and watch the glass."

"Holy shit," Steve breathed out and took Dean's hand. "I thought you were dead." He pulled him up, bracing his foot against Dean's to keep him steady and touched his sopping shirt front gingerly. "Are you sure all of this is wine?"

"Most of it." Dean grimaced and felt the pull of multiple wounds. He hoped they were minor because there was no time right then to deal with them. He scooped his shotgun up from the floor with a determined face. "I got Sam. You grab Joe. We're going up those stairs and out of here right the hell now. Go. Go!"

They were surprised into motion with his shout and Dean went to Sam. "Ok, buddy. Up you come."

Sam groaned and helped his brother get him up with a hand on the door frame. "Fast."

"Yeah." Dean slid in beside Sam and followed Joe and Steve's slightly faster pace up the hall.

"Charms." Sam coughed and cleared his throat as they moved. "We can... make more of those charms we used at the bed... bed and breakfast."

Dean smirked when Steve looked at him over his shoulder. "Dude, I did shots with Jess James' ghost."

"Bullshit." Joe said and craned his head to get a look at Dean.

"He did," Sam said with a hoarse laugh. He groaned again when they turned a corner and the stairs were in sight. "Dean..."

"You can make it." Dean hitched Sam's arm higher on his shoulders and started up them, not giving Sam's abused head time to protest. He hiked Sam up the cellar stairs, taking more and more of his weight until they reached the top. "Keep moving. Front door, now." They only had a finite amount of time to escape the house before the ghost returned and made sure they were locked down. Every inch of him was itching with the need to get out before their ticking clock ran out. Of course, outside was a pissed off monster full of rock salt, but first thing's first.

Sam moved in a daze and startled when hands took his other arm. He turned his head and found Joe watching him worriedly. Sam managed a small smile as they reached the front door. "M'ok."

"Dude, you look worse than me," Joe said softly, miserably. He let Sam lean against him while Dean yanked the front door open and grinned.

"Nice. Go. Go! Quick!" Dean forced the other three men out of the door and down the steps to the driveway. A moment later, the front door of the big house slammed shut, surprising them all. He turned and watched as every light in every room began to flicker on and off randomly. "That was close.

"Are we safe?" Steve asked and started Joe moving toward the van.

"Not that way. The Impala's at the gate, and no, we're not exactly safe yet." Dean grabbed Sam again and pulled him along. "That bastard's got the gate sealed shut. We're gonna have to go over it. Oh, and there's still a monster out here somewhere."

Joe groaned loud and long at that and let his head roll over to rest on Steve's shoulder as they walked. "Just throw me over."

Steve snorted and pulled him close. "I'll get you over."

Dean eyed the gate once they neared it and sighed. "This isn't gonna be fun."

"I know." Sam reached his hands out and took hold of the bars. "Just, shove me up and I'll roll over."

"Steve, go over first and catch him, ok?" Dean wasn't about to hop that gate without Sam being over it first; not with the spirit still lurking. Just for the hell of it, he went to the bars and checked. The lock was still open. Dean took hold of one leaf and pulled, but as before, it rattled and stayed stubbornly closed. "Would have been nice."

Steve reluctantly left Joe leaning beside Sam and scrambled over top of the gate with a hand up from Dean. He dropped to the other side and reached through the bars to touch Joe's shoulder. "Easy."

"Alright, Joe. Let's get you..."

"Sam first," Joe argued and pushed Dean toward his brother. "Before he passes out. Look at him."

"Shit," Dean said with feeling when he got a look at his brother's pale face. Joe was right; Sam was heading for some serious unconscious time whether he wanted to or not and soon. "Steve?"

"Yeah, get Sam over here quick." Steve gave his consent easily. He smiled at Joe and put his arms up to catch Sam.

"Ok, little brother." Dean knelt down and cupped his hands together. "Gimme a foot, Sam." He waited but his brother didn't move. He put the force of a command into his voice. "Sammy. Foot."

"Uh, right." Sam shook his head and opened his eyes, responding instinctively to the tone. "Sorry." He put his right foot into Dean's hands and concentrated on not falling over backwards as he was lifted quickly up to the top. Dean kept pushing and Sam had no choice but to go over and roll his legs to the other side. He felt Steve's hands push his legs out of the way, and then he was falling. Steve was there to catch him, grunting under his weight, and soon he found himself being leaned against the Impala's comforting hood.

"I saw that." Dean called and grinned. "You smiled. You missed mah baby."

Sam gave a weak laugh and waved an arm. "Shut... shut up and get over here before I puke on her."

Dean's grinned widened and he turned to Joe, kneeling in front of him like he had Sam. "He called her 'her'. He loves her. He just won't fess up to it, the big girl."

Joe shook his head, laughing fondly as he gave his foot to Dean. When he reached the top and took hold, he froze; unsure how to get over without scraping his bandaged chest on the metal. "Um... how?"

"Ok, just..." Dean grunted and pushed, straining to get all his might under the heavy man. "Sit... and swing... fuck... your legs over." He shoved, raising his arms and Joe higher up the gate until the man was able to sit. Dean panted for breath and stepped back to watch as Joe swung first one leg and then other over, and the way Steve was there to wrap him up in his arms as he dropped. Dean grimaced in sympathy with Joe's pained cry on the landing, knowing those wounds had to hurt like hell.

"Ok, Dean. Your turn." Steve eyed the top of the gate. "How are you going to get over that alone?"

Dean snorted and rolled out his shoulders. "Same way we got in." He ran for two steps, jumped and caught the top of the gate. He swung a leg up, balancing himself at the top and dropped over the side, landing with cat-like grace despite his injuries. In spite of the situation, Steve's eyes widened in admiration, and maybe something just a little bit more. He frowned and pushed that thought out of his head just as the meter in Dean's pocket began to scream again. "Shit," Dean gasped and danced backward while the gate rattled in its frame. "Ok, everybody in the car. We're outta here."

Sam started toward the passenger door. He staggered and turned around when a fresh rattling sound filled the night air. He watched in surprise while the heavy metal gates slid slowly open. He stared for a moment, then smirked and started laughing so that he had to lean up against the car to avoid falling down.

"Casper, you ASSHOLE!" Dean screamed through the open gate toward the house.

"That's..." Steve wiped his eyes as he laughed and rested an arm on Joe's shaking shoulders beside him. "That's just insulting."

All three men laughed at the outrageousness of the whole situation while Dean glared between them and the open gate. "Gonna find your ass and I'm gonna dance on your damn grave!" Dean yelled and finally turned away to the car. "Get in the damn car, Sammy."

Sam wheezed out another laugh and pulled the passenger door open. "What'd you do to piss him off? I mean, wow."

"Fucking ghosts," Dean grumbled. He slid behind the wheel and gave the house a last glare before he started the car and pulled away with all his precious cargo intact.

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Dean sat beside Sam on the spacious, king size bed and smirked down at him. Sam was on his side and curled up around Dean's hip with his head resting against his bent knee. "You ok, Sammy?"

"Bed's still spinning," Sam reported in a muffled voice. "S'getting better though." He sniffed his brother's knee and smirked. "You still smell like a winery."

"Dude, I've showered twice!" Dean sniffed his own shoulder and sighed because Sam was right; he could still smell wine on his skin. He looked over at the other king size bed when he heard a snort of laughter and raised a finger at Joe. "Don't you start." He didn't know how Steve had known there was a hotel in town with a king size double but he was glad. It made him feel better having all of them in one room after the night they'd spent, and knowing that, despite being away from the freakin' haunted house, there was still a monster prowling the area that had apparently set its sights on their friends. He smiled when Steve opened the room door and appeared with a fresh bucket of ice and new towels.

"How are the patients?" Steve asked while he set the bucket down on the table.

"Ornery." Sam raised a hand and slapped his brother's arm lightly.

"Ow, bitch!" Dean grimaced and held a hand over the bandaged cut Sam had smacked. He had a half-dozen shallow cuts on his arms, back, and chest from the broken wine bottles. "Knock it off." He dragged his fingers through Sam's hair a last time soothingly and stood. "Ok, Joe. You ready for some stitches?"

Joe groaned but nodded. "You sure we shouldn't be letting a doctor do this?"

Dean smirked and sat next to Joe's hip. "Dude, the only way you get stitches neater than mine is with Sammy."

Sam smiled at the praise. "We used to practice on orange peels when we were kids." Sam shrugged, groaned as abused muscles all across his back pulled and rolled onto his stomach. "Ow."

"That's a little sad. No offense." Steve loaded a few Zip-Lock bags with ice and watched while Dean uncovered Joe's wounds again. He shivered, seeing how close he had come to losing the love of his life.

"Hey. He's gonna be fine," Dean said and smiled when he saw the look on Steve's face. It was the same feeling he'd had as a teenager the first time Sam had been hurt on a hunt. "Few stitches and I'll have him fixed up good as new."

"Thank you," Steve said gratefully. Another pained sound from Sam put his attention back on the younger brother. He grimaced in sympathy, taking in the bruises across his back. Steve knelt up on the bed next to him. "Here, Sam."

Sam gasped with the feel of thinly wrapped bags of ice laid against the skin on his back. "Crap."

"I know. But it will help." Steve swung a leg over Sam's hips and settled carefully atop him. "I can help. Joe says I've got magic hands."

"Fuck yeah, he does." Joe grinned over at Sam. "You're gonna love this. Shit!" he exclaimed suddenly as Dean brushed a wet pad of gauze over his chest.

"Sorry." Dean flattened his palm to Joe's stomach below the claw marks. He took the antiseptic in his other hand and started again. "Wanna be sure these don't get infected." Dean's head jerked to his right when heard Sam let out a filthy-sounding, happy groan. He grinned and watched Steve work his fingers over the back of Sam's neck above and below the collar.

Sam sighed in bliss as Steve moved from his neck to his shoulders. He turned his head to the side and watched Dean working on Joe. He didn't get many opportunities to watch Dean care for someone the way he did Sam. It was somehow sexy as hell watching Dean's sure hands soothing over Joe's skin in between the stitches. He felt Steve leaning a little heavier over his back and smiled knowing they were both watching.

Dean laid a row of careful, precise stitches along the wound lowest Joe's chest, seven in all. He snipped the last thread and ran a hand soothingly up and down the warm skin over his ribs. Joe shivered under his touch and Dean smiled.

"You do this for Sam?" Joe asked softly and a little breathlessly. "Take his mind off of it?"

Dean smiled again and nodded. He brushed his fingers over Joe's nipples until they tightened under the pads of his fingers. "He has trouble staying still for me sometimes."

Joe arched carefully as Dean dragged one hand down to his stomach and laughed. "Can't imagine why."

Steve huffed out a little laugh. It was tantalizing watching Dean handle Joe so gently and do it so well. He put his attention back on Sam though. He enjoyed the feel of shifting muscles under Sam's skin as he massaged back and forth. Steve pulled his knuckles heavily down either side of Sam's spine and earned another dirty groan. He smirked when Sam's hips pushed back into him reflexively.

"Good, Sam?" Steve asked and began tracing the faint scars across Sam's back, wondering faintly about how much these two had really been through in their lives. Sam 'hmmm'd in response and Steve chuckled. He leaned down tentatively, unable to help himself, and ran his tongue along one jagged, old scar on the back of Sam's left shoulder blade.

Sam shivered, moaned and rolled his head back into the pillow with the sensation of Steve's tongue. He knew what he was doing without having to ask. "Poltergeist."

Steve hummed and moved his mouth to the next, this one lower and nearly invisible with age. It sat above Sam's left kidney and he laved it with his tongue. "This one?"

"Uh... that's..." Sam's hips rolled back into Steve again and he could feel the man's cock against his ass; already half-hard. "Wendigo."

"Mmm hmm." Steve pulled his nails lightly down Sam's sides, toppling the little bags of ice as the man shuddered with the touch. He found a new scar and licked around the little half moon before biting his teeth around it gently.

Sam whined softly, unable to stop the noise or his hips from humping into the mattress below him. "Fuck... uh... vampire."

"Fuck me, that's hot," Joe's voice breathed into the room.

Steve and Sam both turned their heads and found the other two men watching avidly. Steve indulged himself and rolled his own hips down again and felt Sam's breath stutter with the friction. He met Dean's eyes and saw his own hunger reflected there. "Think they'd both feel better if we... relieved a little tension. Don't you?"

Dean gave him a dirty grin and slid down to lay in the 'v' of Joe's legs. "Sam likes it to burn."

"Oh fuck," Sam breathed and dutifully lifted his hips as Steve's hands slipped under him to tug his sweatpants down.

"Joe's got a weak spot on the inside of either hip." Steve grinned and moved just enough to leave Sam naked before pushing his legs far enough apart to slide between them; mirroring Dean but with Sam on his stomach.

Joe groaned while Dean's fingers tugged and shimmied his own sweatpants down. He slid a hand over his chest to brace it and his fingers tangled with Dean's. He lifted his head and found Dean's beautiful green eyes peering up at him.

"Don't worry. Won't let you hurt yourself," Dean assured him in a husky voice. He bent his head while Joe moaned again and licked a wet path up the inside of his right hip.

Joe threw his head back as Dean sealed his lips over that spot on the inside of his hip and sucked. "Fuck. Fuck!" He whimpered and was left gasping when Dean finally pulled back. He gasped a little as the motion pulled at his stitches. Dean leaned away a bit and frowned in concern. "Don't you dare stop!" Joe said breathlessly.

Dean chuckled, leaned back down. and licked at the head of Joe's cock. He let his eyes fall on the next bed over as Sam's voice rose in a loud, cracking moan. Steve's head was buried between his brother's legs. "Fuck yes."

Sam writhed on the bed with the sinful feeling of Steve's tongue tracing the outer rim of his hole. "Oh, God." He twitched as the muscles in his back pulled and a moment later, Steve's hands slid up the curve of his ass, over the small of his back and pressed down to hold him in place. Sam's breath stuttered out of him and he fisted both hands into the bed sheet. He was left with his mouth hanging open as Steve forced two fingers into him. It burned along his spine and quickly faded into mind-numbing pleasure. "Yes, yes, yes," Sam panted. He begged and tried to lift his hips higher in search of more, and the fact that Steve managed to hold him down so effectively made him whimper as the man brushed his fingers over his prostate.

Steve leaned back and slithered up over Sam to rest himself on his back, using his weight to keep him from hurting himself. He pulled his fingers out and added a third with a quick thrust that earned him a yell. "That's it, Sam."

Dean gave a thunderous groan of his own just watching. His mouth watered with the urge to taste his brother, and he turned to Joe instead. He let Joe's cock slide across his lips and waited for the man to pick up his head and look at him, knowing just the picture he painted, having had Sam tell him more times than he could count. Dean met Joe's glazed eyes, blink his long lashes and slowly sucked in Joe's cock and let his eyes flutter closed.

"Oh... my fucking God." Joe whined blatantly. "Your lips, and... I can't... Steve, his lips!" Dean hummed as he pulled Joe's cock to the back of his throat and grinned around his length when he was forced to press Joe's hips into the bed to keep him still.

"Christ," Steve shoved his fingers hard into Sam, making him whine again, and nudged his head with his chin. "You see them, Sam?"

Sam turned his head with a whimper that became a groan of his brother's name. "Dean." He watched Dean's mouth work Joe's cock, those soft, pillowy lips stretching and glistening, and Sam's own cock thickened more where it was pressed between his stomach and the bed.

"Gonna come for me?" Steve growled in Sam's ear. He used his free hand to slide down under Sam and curled his fingers around the stiff length of his dick. He smiled, feeling how wet it already was from precome. He squeezed Sam's length in his hand and felt him trembling underneath him as he used his fingers inside Sam to rub at his prostate constantly. "Go over for me, Sam."

Joe's eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the sight on the other bed. He couldn't stop watching the way Sam began to vibrate beneath Steve, and he knew his lover was milking Sam's prostate. Lord knew he'd done it to Joe enough times. "Sam," Joe gasped and felt his own orgasm sneak up on him as Sam arched beneath Steve and cried out. "Fuck!"

Dean pulled back until only the tip of Joe's cock was still in his mouth and he sucked, as if pulling the come from him. He had to use real force to keep the man from reinjuring himself as his body tried to curl up on the bed. Dean tilted his head just enough to watch his brother and Steve. The sight of Sam shouting out his pleasure and shaking as he came hard brought Dean's own orgasm thundering down on him. He shoved his hips into the bed while he swallowed around Joe and came; groaning around the cock in his mouth and drawing Joe's release out even more.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck. Too much." Steve gasped. He rolled his hips into Sam's over and over while Sam continued to come and tremble beneath him and took a mouthful of skin at Sam's neck as he came in his pants. He yelled into Sam's flesh and collapsed carefully to the side of the younger Winchester with an exhausted chuckle. "Holy... holy shit."

Sam nodded but didn't move. He had no energy left to do anything but watch his brother while Dean slowly drew his mouth from Joe and leaned up on an elbow. "Dean."

Dean grinned over at his brother. Sam was close to unconscious from the force of his orgasm- and probably the lingering effects of a concussion- and he nodded. "Right here, little brother. You can sleep." He turned to look down at Joe and curved a hand around the man's face as he panted. "Joe? You good?"

Joe chuckled softly, completely out of breath and managed to crack one eye open. "So... so good. Wow."

Steve snorted a laugh and got carefully out of the bed. He brushed a hand down Sam's naked back as he withdrew his fingers and smiled when Sam whimpered. "Easy, Sam."

"I got him." Dean smoothed a hand down Joe's hip and slid off the bed. He stood and pulled his jeans away from his crotch with a grimace. "Feel like a teenager."

"You and me both." Steve shrugged and shucked his jeans off. He vanished in the bathroom for a moment and returned, tossing a damp cloth to Dean with a smile. He stopped beside him and reached out to unbuckle Dean's jeans for him. "Thank you for taking care of Joe."

Dean sucked in a breath when Steve's fingers brushed his still sensitive cock through the denim. He glanced at the two sleeping man and looked back to Steve with a smirk. "You know, once we get all this shit taken care of, we could drive them fuckin' nuts makin' 'em watch." He trailed a finger nail up the center of Steve's chest and chuckled as the man shivered.

"Oh. Oh, we are so doing that." Steve laughed and clasped Dean's shoulder before heading to the bed and climbing across it to lay beside Joe. "Hey, baby."

Dean grinned and stripped his own jeans off. He cleaned himself up, tossed the rag into the bathroom and quickly pulled on Sam's discarded sweat pants before getting into bed beside his brother. He made sure his knife was under his pillow and his gun in easy reach before he settled in. "We'll find your ghost and toast his happy ass tomorrow. Guaranteed."

"Fucking hope so," Steve groaned and pulled Joe carefully in against his chest. "I like that house."

Dean chuckled and slid an arm low across Sam's back. He pressed a kiss to his brother's shoulder and rested his chin above his head on the pillow. "Night, Sammy."

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To Be Continued...