*

A/N: So, it's okay if I totally screw with mythology, right?

*

*

What am I supposed to do now, Sammy? What the hell am I supposed to do?

The rage inside him is rolling in his belly, black and stinking, so fierce and hating he can barely see with it.

He can't believe-

He never thought Sam-

Christ!

Dean's belly gives a lurch and he's pulling over, yanking open the door and puking his guts out all over the side of the road. When he leans back in, trembling and gasping, weakly wiping at his mouth, he's fighting back tears that sting and burn at his eyes but he won't give in to it, won't let them out and he clenches his jaw so hard he's surprised his teeth aren't cracking under the pressure.

He has to be strong, take care of this business and work the case and then, when it's over and done with, he can slink away and hide, find somewhere to hole up, try to heal from this, away from Sam, away from this damn thing that's killing him inside, slicing him open and spilling out his blood-

He should have known better. Ever since he'd let his love for Sam out, let it see the light of day, he'd known something like this was bound to happen, known that he could never be happy, not Dean Winchester – it just wasn't in the cards for him. Now, look at him…he's a festering wound, half the man he used to be, no pride, no self-respect-

And sweet Christ, the only thing he can think of right now is how much he wants to lay with Sam again, just the two of them, letting the rest of the world fall away, feeling the heat of Sam's body wrapping around him, earning sweet whimpers out of his brother with each deep thrust, Sam's trembling orgasm bringing his own staggering release.

He closes his eyes with a groan and lets his head fall back onto the leather seat, just want to go away from this, somewhere quiet, peaceful-

And he looks around at the idyllic setting surrounding him, the air humming with insects, birds chirping lazily from nearby trees, the smell of the woods through his open window sharp and pungent, all around him, crowding in on him, honey cedar and soft moss, the fresh smell of dirt recently turned for planting-

With a wrenching, his stomach rolls over again and he's hanging back out the door, face bent low over the dusty road, dry heaves racking through him, belly empty and he's cramping with spasms, wuffling in great gulps of air. The image of Sam, his hand on that guy's dick, Jesus Christ, it's burned into his brain, so crystal clear that all he has to do is close his eyes and he's back in it, and no matter which way he turns it, no matter what his practical brain says must have happened, he can't be rational, sane about this because he's twisted up with it, it's replaying in slow motion over and over in his head-

When he'd crashed into the cottage, he'd been stunned, horrified, his mind taking in the situation at a glance, the man hanging onto Sam, Sam's hand surrounding the thick cock, fingers covered in strings of white come, and the look on his face-

Sam had been gone, absent, rooms empty, nobody home, moving his hand like a robot, unfocused, unaware…until he'd seen Dean, that is and then Sam had jolted back, realized where he was but by that time, Dean had been too busy punching 'dick man' a new face to notice much of anything else.

What the hell kind of mojo had the guy worked on Sam, that he was able to control him, to pull strings that had Sam jerking and dancing like a puppet, reasoning and free will gone but still there enough to move, to function, to get an erection so bad he needed to jerk off before he could make it to the car?

And what the hell had that been about?

Dean had tried to help, tried to get Sam off the ground and into the car but Sam couldn't so whatever it was had taken away Sam's will, his decency and humanness, and left him crude, caveman, blistering sexual need, all hungry and rutting until nothing else mattered except touching himself, getting off, shooting his load and putting out the fire in his balls, in his cock.

Dean's rage was a blessing in disguise because watching Sam, on his knees in the gravel, pulling and tugging on himself, palm tight, working the red, pulsing shaft, the image had spoken right to Dean's dick and it was all he could do not to shove Sam forward, work him open with rough, plunging fingers, and take him hard, right there. His anger had stopped him, the cold hurt in his heart doing the rest and he'd done the only thing he could, gotten Sam the hell out of there as soon as Sam had finished and was able.

The guy had to be some sort of warlock or hoodoo priest to wield that sort of control, that's the only explanation, because if he wasn't, if he was human, that meant-

That meant-

Dean's mind skitters across the thought, his stomach jolting back up into his throat again, the taste of bile slick on the back of his tongue and he forces it down, forces himself to think the words, to know it-

If James was human, then Sam had done it on his own, hadn't been on autopilot but had jerked the guy off because he wanted to, because Sam still had feelings for the man and if that was true then-

He pushes a finger against his temple, rubbing away the piercing stab of pain that's taken up residence there, his belly ebbing and flowing like the tide, nausea swimming in and out of him and he swallows fast, trying to hold it in, keep it down.

A painful moan falls from his throat, eyes swimming with unshed tears, vision blurring in and out, and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, won't lose it, won't fucking let it out, and if Sam wants to be with James then Dean will give him that, won't stand in Sam's way or hurt his brother's chance at happiness and if this dude, this asshole makes Sammy happy that's good enough for Dean – but that doesn't mean he has to stand around and watch, be best man at the wedding because there's just no way…

He just can't, ok? He's not strong enough to stay-

There's only one thing Dean can do at this point and that's leave, run, reverse gears and high tail it out of here before Sammy even knows he's gone, go underground and bury himself so deep there's no way Sam could find him. And when he's finally hidden, then he can think on things, decide what to do but he can't now, not when he's in the thick of it because he loves Sam so much-

One tear spills out, trailing a hot path down his cheek and he slaps it away, pounding on the steering wheel with a hard fist, picturing the man's face, the one who held Sam's heart, the fucking son of a bitch Sam loved, had loved this whole time.

Shit, Goddamn and fuck!

How in hell is he supposed to handle this? He hiccups over a scared laugh, not too well, is how and his fists clench tight, just wants to beat something bloody, rip something apart, scream out his rage and his pain to the skies above, the fucking sunshiny happy blue sky that smiles down at him mockingly.

What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Sammy?

An errant thought from the back of his mind has fear trickling through him, sudden and sharp, the realization that if this guy is some kind of warlock or mythical being, the asshole could take Sam again, at any time and fuck, Dean totally forgot to check Sam's pockets for charms or talismans-

He feels the cold purpose flow through him, filling him up, familiar and normal in this fog of hurt, and this he knows, it's been his job since his brother took his first breath…protect Sam, take care of Sam.

Dean firms his jaw, sitting up straight and punching down his foot, hitting the gas hard, the car leaping forward with a growl of engine, gripping the road tight, wheels squealing with the glee of the chase.

If the guy is a supernatural being, he's only got about two minutes left to live.

*

The Impala skids and slides into the driveway, throwing up rocks and stones before coming to a shuddering halt and Dean jumps out, stalking up to the cabin on stiff, angry legs. He stands on the porch for a moment, breathing hard before he lunges forward, raising a boot, and giving the door a sturdy kick, square in the middle and it flies inward, rocking on its hinges, making the whole cabin shake. The kitchen's empty and Dean glances around quick before marching into the living room.

The man is kneeling in front of a safe, blood soaked ice pack against his nose and his eyes flicker to Dean's, no alarm in them, looking like he was expecting him.

"Did you come back to break it again?" His voice is nasally, stuffed and he moves the towel, his nose huge and swollen.

"Get up." Dean snarls at him, legs spread wide, fists bunched against his thighs.

"Or what? You'll beat me up? You've already shown you can do that, the question is why do you want to?"

"I said get up!" And Dean reaches down, grabbing the man's collar and yanking him to his feet, shaking him like a rag doll even though he's taller than Dean, almost as tall as Sam.

His hands are gripping Dean's shoulders, hanging on tight, staring down in alarm, in fear, yeah, you'd better be fucking scared, blue eyes searching his face, "Wait! It's Dean, right? You're Dean?"

Dean's fingers tighten into the cloth of the man's shirt, twisting the collar around his throat, effectively cutting off his air supply "And you're James, the fucking college geek that took advantage of my brother!"

And he shoves James back against the safe, glaring up at him, seething in his skin, the other man's hands dropping the ice pack and coming up, tugging on Dean's, trying to get air, coughing out the words in a tight whisper, "Can't breathe…let go…"

Dean eases up just enough so the guy doesn't pass out, "What are you – a witch, a trickster, what? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't gank you right here!"

"I'm just a-just a man!" the voice is hoarse, wheezing, "Not…witch…not anything…just a teacher…"

The words slice into Dean-

No, NO. He has to be supernatural, has to have powers-

That way Dean can kill him, easy, without questions or doubts because his hands are itching to do just that, snap his neck or stab his heart with his silver knife, hell, gag him on holy water if that's what it takes-

But-

If he's just a man, as he says…then Sam wasn't possessed or taken over. Sam touched him willingly, wantonly, and fuck! Dean can't deal with that at all-

He throws the man back in disgust, wiping his hands against his thighs to get the feel of him off. James collapses against the safe, huffing in deep pulls of air, holding his throat like it's on fire, "Almost choked me to death…"

Dean sneers at him, "If I had wanted you dead, you'd be dead. What'd you do to my brother?"

"What did I-? Nothing! I didn't do anything! W-where is Sam…is he ok?"

The familiar way Sam's name falls off his lips has Dean seething, possessive, red-hot and angry, fury sliding around the edges of his vision, threatening to take him over and he's clenching and unclenching his fists, wanting to beat this jerk bloody "You don't worry about my brother – I take care of Sam. You need to worry about yourself right now."

"Listen, I never took advantage of Sam. If anything, it was the other way around!" James takes in a breath, his mind sharpening once oxygen is flowing back into him again, his blue eyes searing Dean's face, "Wait, why did Sam even tell you about me? He didn't have to - all he had to say was an old friend from school called for his help. But no, he told you about us, about what we were to each other. Why?"

Dean glowers at him, brows drawn together in a forbidding frown, "None of your fucking business."

"Holy shit! You're together, aren't you?" And James catches the slight blush on Dean's face, takes it as confirmation because he gives a sharp laugh, "You are! Well, that answers another question. I often wondered if Sam ever managed to find the courage to tell you how he felt and I guess he did. And you reciprocated."

"That's right. And you need to stay the fuck away from him."

"And if I don't? Are you so insecure that you think Sam would choose me over you?"

You don't know the half of it, man…Sam did choose you over me…and Dean's heart rips open a little more, God, it hurts, hurts so fucking bad-

"I wasn't insecure until I walked in to find Sam's hand on your dick. That kind of made me sit up and take notice, you know?"And Dean grabs James's hand, twisting it around and slicing into the palm with his silver knife, a deep cut that instantly blossoms blood and James gasps, a whispered, "Fuck!" making its way to Dean's ears but James doesn't change, doesn't morph out-

"What the hell did you do that for!?" James's hand is at his mouth, sucking down the blood as he frantically looks around for something to staunch the flow. He's bending, retrieving the towel around the ice pack and wrapping his hand, "Fucking assh-" and his words are cut off when Dean throws holy water in his face.

James wipes off his dripping face with a free hand, staring at Dean like he's gone crazy right there in front of him, mouth opening to let loose with some choice words but shutting up quick when he sees the gun in Dean's hand.

"Ok, wait! Wait, please, just...put that away, ok? Come on, man..."

And Dean's shoulders slump when he realizes James isn't evil, dejection in every bone because the bastard is human and the slash of pain shooting through his gut leaves him numb and breathless. He uncocks the gun and slides it back into the waistband of his jeans, locking stone-cold eyes on the other man when James asks, "Didn't Sam tell you what - I mean, you have no idea what happened, do you?"

"Sam didn't feel much like talking, you know? He was too busy jerking off in your driveway so you're gonna have to fill me in on the horny details, like how the fuck Sam ended up with your come all over his hand!"

James scowls at him, looking at Dean like he's the biggest jerk in the world, "You know, Sam was right about one thing. You are a dick." Icy blue eyes stare into Dean's, James's mouth pressed into a thin line, "I always hated you, you know that? You held Sam's heart, something I never could and you had no fucking clue what you even had! He wouldn't let anyone else near him, he wouldn't touch me, wouldn't kiss me and I could never figure out why. At first I thought he was freaked out by the gay thing but that wasn't it...nope, not at all and when I finally got it out of him, God, it made perfect sense that he was in love with someone else-"

He continues, sneering right back at Dean, "I wanted him so bad – still do, truth be told and if he even gives me so much as a nod, I'm going for it, going after him and you can go fuck yourself because it's every man for himself at this point. Your brother is the best man I've ever met and maybe if you took the time to see that, took the time to really appreciate him, you wouldn't be in this mess!"

James takes a breath, makes a decision, "You need to know what happened. I'm drawing the line right now...I want Sam and I'm going to try my best to get him but I'm not taking advantage of the situation. If Sam ends up coming to me at the end of this, it'll be from his own free will and not because I forced or tricked anyone. You'll know it all, everything but I'm not going to tell you what went down because it's better if I show you."

And James gestures to the open safe, "With your permission…" and bends down, one fluid motion, grabbing the flute and tossing it over quick, right at Dean's head so he has no choice but to reach up and grab it, and Dean catches it in one hand without thinking, turning it over in his palms before unwrapping it and holding it up.

"What the hell is this? Is this the magical flute that makes you see Cupid or something? Am I supposed to be impressed?" And Dean puts it to his lips, blows across the top of it gently, producing a clear tone, "Doesn't seem like all that much…"

And James stares at him, eyes glittering like diamonds, waiting for something, anticipation in every bone, and Dean looks back at him, shrugging, "What?"

And he hears the clattering against stone, sounds like a horse or something and…is that music? The sweet tones of it, dulcet and soft, reach his ears and he cocks his head, "What in hell is that?"

He feels the tickle of arousal in his balls, flames licking at his dick with each pulse of the beat, the song slithering its way into the dark recesses of his mind, and he's suddenly sweating, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck and what the hell-

The notes sway in the air, he can almost see them, touching a deep, buried part of him, the beast, old and primal, back to a time when it was just man, taking what he wanted when he wanted it, survival of the fittest-

A fierceness rises up inside him, guttural and harsh, pulsing to the stuttering tunes of the panpipe-

And he feels the music shoot up his back, the melody touching him, stroking him and he's starting to steam up, getting hot, really hot, the air around him pulsing, sweltering and it's muggy, close, can't breathe through it, like a soggy towel has been laid across his nose and mouth.

Dean catches the shadow out of the corner of his eye and it stays there, in his peripheral vision when he looks dead on at it, dancing just out of reach, just out of thought, the music growing, swelling and his erection is sudden, swift, his hand rubbing against it before he even knows what he's doing and he glances across the room-

At James whose eyes are glowing with passion, with lust and he sees James's hand go down, to his own dick and wow, that's pretty fucking hot, watching him caress himself and no wonder Sam likes him, he's sure handsome enough, oozing sex appeal even with the busted nose, the odd grin crooking his mouth, confident in his own skin and yeah, Dean could smack that, sure he could-

What the fuck is he thinking? Dean shakes his head, trying to clear his brain…it's that music, it's filling his mind with images, giving him ideas he would never even consider, wearing down his defenses and it's getting louder now, more strident, the beating of it faster and faster and he's panting along in rhythm, his dick twitching and growing in his pants and he's sweating, Christ, sweating up a frigging storm, so hot, can't get a breath-

Touch yourself-

The shadow dances faster and Dean can feel the throb in his cock, pulsing and heavy with each twist and bend and he can see it full on now, it's dark mystery, dancing just for him, Come on, you know you want to, feels so good, rolling your hot palm over your cock, and it wants him to touch himself, pull himself out right there and stroke along his shaft, and wouldn't James be nice to fuck right about now?

He rips his eyes away from the twisting shadow, sheer force of will, looking for James and Dean feels him before he sees him, he's right there, behind him, hands sliding around his waist, reaching down to cup Dean's dick through his jeans, groping, squeezing and Jesus, that feels fucking good and he turns, ready to slide right into that mouth, to hump against that hand and James's blue eyes stare up into his-

Blue eyes-

Not Sam's eyes-

And No, No, NO! This is not gonna happen, now way, no how! He doesn't know what the son of a bitch did to him but this is over, now, right the fuck now!

His hand curls around the flute, making a fist and before he knows it, he's slamming into James's jaw once, then again, whipping his head around with the force of it and knocking the tall man on his ass, standing over him, glaring down into the pained eyes, James's hand holding the wounded cheek and staring up at Dean with lust-filled eyes.

"Come on, Dean…It'll just be between you and me…Sam won't ever know. I-I want you so bad-."

Dean can barely see with the heat surging through him, the flute playing crazily in his ears, incessant, impossible to ignore, zinging through his brain and lighting it up with sparks, with fire-

Fuck, he needs Sam now, right now-

He stares down at James, fighting himself, fighting the crazy lust until he's able to pant out the words, "You're-you're not my fucking type, asshole!"

And he's out of the house, out to the car in seconds, jumping in and throwing it into gear, can't barely drive, gotta get off, gotta come now, right now but he holds back, the image of Sam's naked body taking over his brain, and he's careening over bumps and around curves, racing back to the motel and shit, he can't wait, can't wait to take Sam hard, rough-

*

Sam towels off, his skin still tender from Dean's scrubbing earlier but he's better now, clean and calm, ready to explain, to talk, hoping he can get Dean to try to understand what the hell happened, hoping Dean's okay and James is still alive-

The sound of the door opening has Sam coming out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist as he searches the room for Dean and he sees him standing at the door, back to him, hand on the knob and Sam's tentative, worried, "Dean? You ok?"

And Dean turns around, his eyes bright, fevered, hungry and wild and he takes two long strides towards Sam and reaches out, whipping the towel off Sam's hips and dropping to his knees in front of him and before Sam knows what's happening, Dean's hot mouth is on him, slippery wet and sucking him down and ho, Christ, that feels fucking awesome-

Sam is instantly hard, growing in Dean's mouth as the tongue works him, slipping and sliding over and around, sucking and licking and Dean's grunting with the taste, growling in his chest as he pulls Sam in deeper, opening up his throat to swallow all of Sam down-

His hands go to Dean's hair, threading through and clutching the short spikes, his hips are jerking and stuttering in time to the rhythm of Dean's tongue, involuntary, out of control and suddenly in it, out of nowhere, steamy and so fucking aroused, he's moaning and whimpering as that mouth takes him, shooting sparks up and down his legs, jolts of lightening that leave him shaking and weak in the knees.

Dean's urging him backwards, pushing at his hips with his hands, walking forwards on his knees to make Sam reverse and the bed presses into his legs, and Sam lets himself fall back, feeling Dean's teeth rake his dick as he tumbles, his mouth popping off with a wet thwuck and his cock is on fire, the sensitive skin now tingling with memory of the sharp edges of those teeth-

The softness of the bed fills his mind for a moment before that mouth is back on him, warm and wet, tongue slowly lapping the chafe away, gently, so tender after the rough scrape that Sam is whimpering, reaching down to caress his brother's cheek with the pad of his thumb and Dean releases him, Sam's dick red and swollen, bobbing up between them with desire, with need.

Dean's tongue works down, licking at the sensitive vein on the underside, sucking against the velvety skin, taking Sam's balls in his mouth and rolling them, licking and working them and Sam's gasping at the heat, the sizzle surrounding him, it's like Dean has a fire inside him and he's so hot, scorching his skin and that tongue-

Jesus, sliding lower, Dean's hands behind his knees, urging his legs up towards his chest, and Sam grabs his knees, pulling them up, spreading himself wide to help so Dean has room, has access and God, he'll give Dean whatever he wants at this point in time, just fucking splay himself wide open, all wanton and turned on, showing his need, his stupid, fucked-up, embarrassing need for his brother's mouth and tongue and touch-

God, he loves this man so fucking much!

Dean's hands spread him wide, so wide it's like he's gonna split wide open and the wet licks, slurping and sucking over his entrance has him twitching, jerking out of control and he's begging, making no sense but can't stop himself because that erotic tongue is like a hot poker now, working its way inside and wiggling, circling around, diving deep and pulling out-

"Jesus, ahhh…shit, so hot, just, fuck, fuck, God, so good…uhhhh..."

Dean's lips are humming against him and Holy shit, it's like nothing he ever felt before, vibrating before each hot poke in and out, then sucking around the puckered ring until he's wild, feels himself thrashing, trying to hold his legs up but they're shaking so bad, he's struggling and Dean's still fucking into him with his tongue, so hot, so wet-

"Dean, God, Dean, please-"

And Dean's mouth is gone, leaving him empty, bereft, shivering with loss and he's flipped over, urged up onto his knees and the sound of Dean's belt buckle sends him swooning, there's no better fucking sound than that, knowing what's coming next and he spreads himself as wide as he can, waiting, trembling wet-

And the hard tip nudging against him, slipping inside and Jesus, Dean's bigger than he remembered, fucking huge, stretching him and Sam's breathing out through his mouth, trying to relax and the heat is flowing through him, like a furnace has been lit up in his ass, and the growling behind him grows in intensity, Dean sounding like a wild tiger. Sam feels the pause, hard palms fall on his hips and grip like iron and he closes his eyes in, steeling himself, knowing in an instant what's coming next and the shove forward, the splitting of his ass has him crying out-

The pain is there, God yes, burning into him hot and sharp but it's the fire of Dean's dick, buried halfway into him, that's shooting flames right through his cock and he's desperate to come, reaching down and jerking himself hard, God, the heat seeping through his ass is too much for him and he can't stop, can't figure out how Dean isn't combusting with the inferno inside him-

Dean's sliding out and shoving in, grunting with exertion, with the tightness of Sam's ass, his fingernails scraping at Sam's skin, clawing red marks on the flesh and Sam's reaching out, taking hold of the head board with a white-knuckled fist and gripping tight, holding on for dear life, and when Dean finally speaks, his voice is deep, harsh, "Gonna fuck you till you can't stand, till you don't even know your own name-"

And he steps up the pace, pulling out and thrusting in, going deeper with each dive until he's buried and the fire in Dean's body, seated up close under Sam's balls, sends Sam over the edge and he's falling, falling, body stiffening and he's coming, so fucking hard he sees stars, hand pumping up and down his length, spurting all over his hand and the bed, until he's finally spent, drained.

He barely gets a breath before he's pulled up to a sitting position and he's being skewered on Dean's dick, gasping because he's never gone in this deep before, Dean's hands are on his thighs, spreading him wide until he's straddling Dean's knees and Dean's bucking up his hips, stabbing into Sam's ass, hands moving now over Sam's nipples and flicking them, rubbing them, making the nerves jerk and twitch and then one hand moves down, fist closing over Sam's shaft and dragging the skin up and down-

"Dean – man, I can't, I just-"

But Dean won't stop, just keeps working his dick with a hand and thrusting in, adjusting his position so the next jab hits Sam's prostate and a surprised moan jumps out of Sam's throat, the white-hot slash jolting his body and when Dean does it again, Sam feels his erection start growing, can't believe it but there it is-

And then Dean's mouth is on his neck, frantic and wild, sucking and biting at him, the sensitive skin showing marks as Dean chews and then licks, pain and pleasure, until Sam's head falls back, surrendering himself to his brother completely and that drives Dean over the edge, and he's pushing down on Sam's hips, grinding himself up into that hot tight channel and rucking back, shoving in again and again while he works Sam's dick, until his brother is delirious with desire, with need-

Dean's nuzzling against his ear, tonguing around the lobe and inside, moist breath moving the hair over it gently, erotically, words breathy and sensuous, "God, when you come, so fucking hot, Jesus, love watching you, man, makes me just want to shove into you harder-"

And Dean gives a thrust up, punctuating his words and earning a gasp of pleasure from Sam as he rakes across that sweet spot, Sam jumping like a live wire just touched his ass, trembling against him-

"And harder, until you can't take any more-" Dean does it again, pulling back and bucking up, going deep, hard.

"Shit, Dean, shit! I'm gonna-" And with a rocking spasm, Sam's coming again, gasping at the jerking of Dean's wrist, pearly liquid shooting out all over them both, and Sam's collapsing against Dean's chest, huffing loudly into the air and Dean keeps pulling, tugging on Sam's dick until Sam's begging, pulling Dean's hand off, "No more, Dean, please…fucking please, man…I've had it…"

"Need to-need to get off…shit, can't –" And Dean's pushing into him harder, faster, yanking down on Sam's hips as he bucks, rolling himself around and wiggling in deeper, and then changing rhythm, changing pace, giving short, sharp rubs up as he pulls Sam down, grinding himself in and Sam clenches himself around the hot, hard length buried inside him and Dean gives a shout, Sam feeling the tell-tale throb of orgasm inside him, the wet flood of come filling him and Dean's whispering in his ear, "Yes…fuck, yes!"

And he pulls out of Sam's ass, leaving him wide open, gaping and he tugs Sam over on his back, staring down, gaze fiery, fierce, looking different, strange and intense-

"That was…delightful."

Sam barks out a laugh, "Delightful? Dean, don't hurt yourself!"

"What?"

Sam shakes his head, "I mean, since when do you talk like that? And dude?"

He stares down at Dean, running a finger though downy curls, staring at Dean like he has two heads, "Since when do you have chest hair?"

*

Sam jerks awake, fierce throb in his jaw telling him he's been out for a while and he reaches up, touches his mouth and fingers come away crusted with dried blood.

Shit!

He looks frantically around, seeing their motel room, seeing himself naked, sprawled across the bed and the memory comes flooding back into him-

Dean.

Changing, becoming something else…

The silence in the room tells him Dean's gone and Sam remembers asking him about the newly grown chest hair, realizing at the last possible moment that the thing standing in front of him isn't Dean, the eyes are wrong, mischievous and playful, the glint in them pure fucking fire, and he sees the fist swing but he's too slow…all caught up in the mind-bending orgasm he just had and goddamn! That fucking hurts!

The last thing he remembers is Dean (not Dean) grinning down at him-

*