Dark Desires

Warning: So, warnings will be for language, mentions of past non-con event. It will also have some minor graphic violence and a little smidge of Wincest at the end.

Epilogue

Four days later:

"Are you certain?" Dean hated the whole Fed thing but had to admit it came in handy…when they weren't running for their lives and on the damn Most Wanted list.

Garth had come to Las Vegas personally because he needed to check on Sam's condition himself and because he'd seen firsthand the type of rage Sam's older brother could unleash and that was just on a ditzy girl.

Plus he wanted to deliver his other piece of news to Dean himself so he could hand him the proof that he already knew would be demanded.

"Yeah, it seems like Walt was caught doing some poaching or something on a place just on the line of Sioux Falls a few months back and while in the custody of the local Sheriff's office he had some kind of freak accident," Garth had to stick his tongue in his cheek when he said this but missed the smirk on the other hunter's face.

"Was the Sheriff Jodi Mills?" Dean suspected he knew the kind of accident that asshole Walt had if he ran afoul of Sheriff Mills, especially since she'd know who he was and his connection to Sam's injuries.

Garth peeked into the file he'd gotten a hold of and blinked. "Yeah, it was," he admitted, narrowing his eyes. "How'd you…accident?"

"What's the official story?" not caring so long as the bastard was dead since Dean had owed Walt for shooting him and Sam three years ago, he was sort of curious as to the line Jodi had given to explain a dead man in her custody.

"Guess she was transferring him to county and he tried to escape and grabbed her gun, there was a scuffle and the weapon went off and Walt got hit," Garth frowned a little. "Shot in the chest four times…a little hard to do but no one questioned it so he's no longer a concern."

"Find out where they buried the body cause I want it salted and burned," Dean did not need Walt back as a vengeful spirit since he could pretty much see how that scene played out and decided he needed to send the Sheriff a lot of flowers…or liquor. "Now, give me the rundown on this one."

It had taken Dean promising to allow Garth to go into the local Las Vegas Sheriff's office with him before Sam agreed to let his brother do this without him but there was no way in hell would Dean allow Sam any closer to this than the front seat of the Impala which was parked a block away in the shade of an actual park.

"Well, from what I could find out the local cops, Feds and Sheriff's office have been watching Garret for the past few years, but especially after some bust months ago," Garth heard the sound of knuckles cracking and groaned since they weren't even in the building yet. "He's been running some kind of strip club that's border line porn shop and BDSM club but he's not very popular since it seems like he prefers to deal with the rougher type of people and more than a few of his workers have vanished.

"When you had me start looking online for stuff and a…friend of mine was able to hack into some files he probably didn't want out there a tip was called in and they busted him last night," Garth grinned. "Like I said, he's not popular so the Sheriff's office was only too happy to let you in to have a 'talk' with him."

Dean didn't plan to do much talking but he figured the less Garth knew the better off they all were as he tried not to tense at the approaching Sheriff.

"Agent McCoy?" the Sheriff was a short middle aged man with receding black hair and deep brown eyes that took Dean in carefully before glancing at the skinnier man trailing him. "Agent…Zappa said you had an interest in Todd Garret?" he seemed to almost spit the name out with disgust.

"You could say that," Dean nodded, fighting the urge to slap Garth over the name and made a mental note to teach the other hunter about choosing rock and roll cover names. "He and some friends messed with my partner about six or so months back so I have…some questions for him."

The Sheriff's eyes gazed at Dean more intently, tapping the file in his hand against his leg. "Tall boy, about 6'4" with longish hair, hazel eyes?" he asked but the tone was more like he knew the answer even before he caught the subtle shift in Dean. "I was in on that warehouse bust. It was my officers who got that boy to the hospital and tried to get him to talk but wanted none of it."

"The bastard had him for three weeks, Sheriff. Sam was in shock, hurt, scared and…he doesn't do cops well, especially under those circumstances," Dean wasn't surprised but hoped this wouldn't become a huge issue in what he needed to do. "I…I was somewhere else when this happened to him and we just recently got put back together and since it's still an open case I thought I'd drop in to…have a talk with your prisoner. Is that a problem?"

Eyeing Dean shrewdly as if judging him, the Sheriff slowly offered a small smile with a shake of his head. "None that I can see. FBI has power over my office usually anyway. Follow me," he gave a nod to a couple officers that it was fine to leave the hall as he led Dean and Garth down toward an older section of the building. "We've been kind of busy with arrests this weekend so when I heard you wanted to see him I had him moved to one of the older interrogation rooms.

"He's been one of those pain in the ass prisoners since we busted his little operation. Tried more than once to jump one of my men so you make sure you watch him real close," the Sheriff removed a set of keys as they walked to the end of the hallway. "Garret's the kind who thinks he can always get away with the things he does because no one will testify against him or the bodies were never found. He got off last time because we couldn't find your partner…and Garret cast all sort of doubt on his character so the DA was leery of pushing the case through."

Dean had been scanning the file the man had handed him but it was when he got to the photos taken of the scene and the standard hospital photos taken after Sam was in the ER for initial treatment that he began to understand just how much his brother had understated his injuries.

"Sonuvabitch," he breathed, teeth clenched against the most basic response and he jerked away from the slight hand that tugged the sleeve of his suit jacket.

Garth was very close to chewing his lip as he watched Dean's whole demeanor begin to change from tense to downright white hot furious which the other man knew could turn deadly in a blink.

The Sheriff leaned against the wall to also watch the way the short haired Fed's face and body changed and he knew barely covered rage when he saw it, suspecting something else as well but keeping quiet for the moment as he unlocked the door.

"Agent Zappa and I'll wait for you at the end of the hall. Take your time," he remarked, adding as he gave a startled Garth a yank. "Oh. Since these rooms are on the old side…they don't have all the high tech fancy stuff my newer rooms do. In case anyone later on wants to claim prisoner abuse or anything," he added easily.

Dean narrowed his gaze at what all he could read into that message but was already reaching for the knob before his brain could process too much except that he was now face to face with the sick perverted bastard who'd hurt his little brother not once but on two occasions and the odds were high that one of them would not be walking from the interrogation room.

Todd Garret as Dean remembered him was a tall man in the 6'2" range with a lot of upper body muscles. He'd been a hunter but was also more bully who enjoyed picking on those he thought he could get the jump on or were weaker than him.

Sam was not weaker but every time the asshole went after him he'd been hurt, distracted and not up to handling being attacked by several men which was another of Garret's trademarks. He never went anywhere alone.

As Dean stepped into the room to close the door and flick the lock, he noticed the same cocky and arrogant set of the man's shoulders as he sat at the battered table in the middle of the room.

Since leaving the world of hunting, he'd put on a bit of weight but not enough to be called heavy. His black hair was more out of place than it seemed like he was accustomed to as he slumped in an almost bored way. He was clearly not used to being treated like this lately and was ready to let the first person who would listen know it.

"I demand to be allowed to call my lawyer, Sheriff. I've been held for over a day without contact with my legal representative and I've been treated poorly by your officers," his tone also still held the arrogant one of a man used to getting his way one way or another. "By the time I get out of here I'll have your badge, your house, your wife and…"

"You can turn off the attitude since I really don't give a crap about what you want and I honestly don't think the Sheriff does either," Dean finally cut in, tossing the folder onto the table as he also removed the suit jacket and loosened the tie that he hated most of all. "Hey Todd, remember me?"

Jerking his head up and around at the unexpected voice, Garret stared before he sneered. "The Feds want a piece of me too? Talk to me lawyer…ugh!"

A hard fist shot out to slam into the man's jaw, knocking him off the metal chair to the floor where he laid stunned with his eyes looking up in shock. "What the hell kind of police brutality is this?" he demanded, tasting blood as he took a better look at the glittering green eyes of the man glaring at him and a tiny kernel of worry began to fill him. "You…you're not a Fed, are you?"

"Have you really been out of the game that long that you've forgotten how it works?" Dean smirked, hardly feeling the stinging in his knuckles as he slowly walked around the table toward the man. "Fake US Marshals, fake FBI, fake Homeland Security, fake anything so long as we can get an ID to claim it. The only thing I never fake is the promise that any asshole that touches my baby brother will get fed a body part of my choosing."

"Winchester," Garret whispered, suddenly very aware who he was locked in a room with and not stupid enough not to suspect why even though he still tried to play it off with a sneer. "Thought you were long past dead or that's what the rumor mill said."

"Yeah and like I warned your buddy Walt three years ago it's damn hard to kill me but touching Sam? That's a real easy way to piss me off and get yourself killed," Dean returned, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile that was nowhere near friendly and just a touch on the dark side as he reached to pull his .45 out to place it on the table along with a knife.

"You're not looking as cocky now, Todd. Did it sink in that you screwed yourself over so bad this time? Did you seriously think you could go after my brother, twice mind you, and me not eventually find out about it?" he demanded curiously, watching the now backpedaling former hunter. "It's never been a secret in the community that Sam was off limits. You touch my brother, you look at him the wrong way and I'd be in your face. Guess what? I am about to be in your damn face so hard!"

Garret shoved to his feet to try to put some distance between himself and Dean, eyeing the weapons on the table and the door. "You…you can't touch me, Winchester!" he yelled, glancing around the room. "This place has cameras and microphones and…ugh!"

"Wanna bet, asshole?" Dean's fist flew again to hit the other man in the gut, grabbing him by the throat to slam him face first into the back wall. "Guess the Sheriff really doesn't give a crap what happens or knows what's going to happen and still doesn't care because he stuck you in the bowels of this place. No security, no cameras, no nothing. You wanna take a guess to what the means, Todd?" he smiled while fingering the blade as a photo of his brother's bloodied and bruised body came to mind and slowly the rage built again.

"It means that I can do whatever the hell I want to you and all it'll be is a tragic accident by some two-bit asshole porn dealer trying to escape from Federal custody," Dean picked up the knife as he stepped away from the table, leaving his Colt there. "It means I will make you feel just a portion of the pain you put Sam through and…"

Wide-eyed now that the full weight of his circumstances was kicking in, Garret swallowed as he looked around the room before taking in Dean.

Of the two brothers Dean was the one with the edgier personality and the quicker temper. It was also known in the hunting community how protective the older man was toward his brother and how more than once he'd gone after someone who'd tried to hurt Sam.

It was also known that his temper was also his weak point because once Dean got too angry his focus slipped which was a danger in a fight but Garret figured it was also his strong point because once he got the hunter mad then he could take him easily.

"Walt said you were dead and how little Sammy would be easy meat for us," he picked up immediately on the muscle tick in Dean's jaw, smiling with a little more confidence. "Sam's never been the hunter you are or even that your Dad was. He's too soft…but so good for other things."

Garret had noticed the file on the table and figured what it was. "Did he tell you everything about those three weeks, Dean?" he asked, slowly easing his way toward the table but keeping the tensing hunter in his sight. "You see the photos in that file of my little place? Was there one of the cage I kept your precious little brother chained up in every night I wasn't using him or the bondage rack Walt had him on the first week?

"Did he tell you how we made him scream and beg for you when I was fucking that tight ass of his? Or how many other people paid to have a go at him? Or maybe how by the time those fuckin' cops showed up he was begging for it?" Garret sneered at the sound of teeth clenching, going on gleefully while imagining the hunter's shock when this was turned on him.

"Have you seen his back, Dean? Let me walk out of here and I'll give you all the tapes of those weeks and you can watch Sammy screaming and begging but the best part of those three weeks was forcing him in that sealable cube with so many toys and making him come until he was begging to stop.

"This topped the night my boys and I had with him in Oklahoma because I had to drug him there and it wasn't as much fun to fuck him when he wasn't really with it, y'know?" the ex-hunter smiled, licking his lips. "I've heard the rumors floating around that the old drunk tried to squash about the two of you. Tell me the truth, Dean. You pissed at me because of what I did to Sam because you're trying to still hold on to that old protect your brother line or you pissed off because someone else fucked him?"

Dean had kept his eyes on the floor through all of this, letting the words and the bragging tone wash over him until he slowly raised his head at the last comment to show the rage building on his face, the shake of his hands. "Are you done trying to piss me off more?" he asked tightly, slowly shifting so he was braced more.

"No, I'm trying to piss you off, jackass!" Garret laughed, grabbing the metal chair that unlike the newer style hadn't been screwed to the floor and threw it at Dean while lunging to grab the Colt up from the table. "Stupid! Leaving a loaded gun on a table so I can…huh?"

He had whirled to aim and fire the weapon only to gape at it when it clicked on an empty chamber and kept clicking empty before a low cough drew his attention to see Dean's eyes were still glittering with rage but now his face was taking on an oddly calm look while shifting the knife in his hand.

"Yeah, like I would really leave a loaded weapon laying around for you to grab?" he smirked, cocking his head to watch the man's face go from shock, to disbelief to fury as he reached behind him to pull his Colt out. "This one, on the other hand, is loaded."

"Bastard!" Garret shouted, furious that he'd been so easily tricked and went to throw himself toward the door only to scream as the knife pierced his leg, buckling it and causing him to go down hard with a grunt as the weight of a knee pressed into his back and the knife twisted to have him trying to dig his fingers into the cement. "Stop! Stop! You can't…argh!"

The rage and fury had settled into a dark spot in Dean, the one he'd tried to leave behind in Purgatory, but he could still hear and see Sam as he described his three weeks of hell because of this man and the months of recovery that he'd faced basically alone.

"Begging already, Todd?" he shook his head but yanked the knife out to jerk the man over to glare down at him, fist clenching in his shirt before he began to punch. "That's less than ten minutes. How long did it take before my brother actually broke down and begged you for anything?" he demanded harshly, slapping hard at the silent glare. "I've got all day, asshole since the Sheriff isn't gonna come looking for you. How long?"

"He begged…from the first damn…aghrr!" Garret screamed as stiff fingers slammed into his kidney, trying to buck the weight off but Dean was holding firm. "Two weeks!" he relented finally, gasping. "Kid was too stupid to beg or I might've cut him some slack but it…wasn't until Walt got that damn little hunk of crap that he freaked out and…oh shit."

Dean pulled the amulet out from under his shirt to allow the sweating and bloody man to see it, waiting for the understanding to pass over his face. "Sam gave me this when he was nine years old. I wore it every damn day except for four months and then after I was stupid enough to let crap come up and I thought I'd lost it for good. My brother pulled this from the trash to keep it in hopes that one day I'd want it back.

"I have given the kid every goddamn reason to not trust me or stop looking up to me and assholes like you and your sick pals just try to hurt him using what's important to him," Dean slid the amulet away before yanking Garret up closer to his face. "You hurt my little brother in ways that I swore no one would again. Hell, you did crap that makes me sick and you still couldn't break him like you probably wanted and you want me to tell you why that is?" his fist began punching methodically until he felt bones break under his fist. "Because Sam's a Winchester and we don't break for assholes like you."

A final fist to the face and Dean let the man drop back to the floor, standing to reach for his loaded Colt. He was half to the point of deciding to let the bastard take his chances in court and a cell when the choice was made for him.

Spitting blood and teeth out, Garret rolled to his side to glare through the only eye not swelled shut. "Winchester!" he coughed up more blood but couldn't help the sick smirk as Dean paused. "You won't kill me…cause hunters don't kill humans…so you be sure to tell Sammy…that I'll look him up after I get out so we can pick up where we…"

The sound of the Colt firing was loud and ringing in the small room but Dean didn't hear it as he slowly lowered the weapon to stare at the dead man on the floor with a hole in his heart. "You don't get to call him that," he whispered, picking up the other weapon to shove it and the knife away while pulling his jacket back on. "Hunters don't kill humans…but today I'm not a hunter. I'm just a brother defending what's mine."

"Oh geez!" Garth's voice came from the door as he and the Sheriff looked in since after the gunshot there was no denying that someone needed to check on things. "Ummm, ohhh, this is…"

"He tried to escape. Went for my gun, we got into a fight and he ended up dead. End of story," Dean's tone was lower as he walked out of the room without a look back. "Any problem with that?"

Taking in the beaten body of the cooling corpse to how Dean looked, the Sheriff finally shook his head. "Nope, sounds right to me and that's what I'll tell the DA when I call to tell her that the tax payers won't have to pay for a trial," he considered what he'd heard after unlocking the door to what he'd heard months earlier. "You're who he was asking for."

Dean's foot was on the bottom step to go up and away from this place when he stopped. "What?"

"When we got that boy outta the warehouse and were waiting for the EMTs to get there he kept asking for 'Dean'," the Sheriff explained, still able to hear the pain and loss in that shattered voice to this day. "That you?"

"Yeah, that's me," Dean answered after several seconds of hard silence, still hurting and angry at himself for not being there when his brother needed him the most. "I couldn't be there for him when he needed me but I could make certain that his nightmares ended. Now, is this an issue or can I go?"

Something in the way Dean was holding himself warned the Sheriff that trying to detain him would probably end up with more people in the ER. "Just do me a favor and get out of the city tonight in case anyone else has questions," he urged, nodding at Garth. "And take him with you?"

"We're on the way out as soon as I get out of here," Dean replied, pulling on Garth until the other hunter was up the steps but he paused to hold out a hand. "Thank you for trying to help him."

"I have sons, Agent McCoy. I know what I'd do if any of them was ever hurt like Garret hurt your…" the Sheriff shook the extended hand but nodded when Dean merely smiled a little but made no move to explain his relationship since he suspected the man had heard enough already. "Go on, get out of here now since I figure you're in a hurry to get back to him. I'll handle this."

Dean didn't ask how. He just nodded and met up with a nervous Garth on the steps of the Sheriff's office. "Whatever you saw, whatever you heard does not get back to Sam," he growled warningly, jerking off the tie to catch sight of a familiar black car sitting a little ways down the street and reminded himself not to leave the keys in the Impala the next time.

"Just watch your backs," Garth warned as he also saw the Impala and the nervously pacing hunter with it. "I'm on my way to a case in New Jersey so yell if you need me," he encouraged before giving Dean his usual hug, tossing a wave to Sam and jogging to where he'd parked his own car.

"He'll get ate by something," Dean muttered, debating on saying what was on the tip of his tongue until Sam turned and he caught the worry on his brother's face. "This isn't where I left you."

Sam fought the urge to grab Dean by sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans, looking around them as people passed by without paying any attention to them. "You took longer than you said and I was…" he bit off the word nervous as Dean's hand brushed over the back of his neck in a casual move but only Sam would understand the depth behind it.

"The Sheriff was the chatty type," Dean shrugged, nudging his brother around to get in the car. "Get in."

Hearing and recognizing the tight tone of voice Sam sighed as he eased into the Impala's passenger seat, only grimacing if he sat too long in one spot now. "Are we back on the Fed's Most Wanted list?" he wanted to know, not doubting what Dean probably did but a little worried about how he did it in a building filled with cops.

"No," Dean snorted, sighing at the look he knew he was getting even without seeing it. "The Sheriff agreed that it was a totally justifiable thing since Garret tried to jump me and he ended up dead…oh and we need to send Sheriff Mills some flowers or hard liquor."

"What? Why?" Sam knew he was still tired and the heat was taking a toll on him but he was now worried it might be affecting his brother more. "What does Sheriff Mills have to do with…"

"I'll tell you later," Dean assured him, knowing to expect a royal bitch face when he did because while Sam may accept some things being protected all the time, especially by people other than his older brother, annoyed him.

They drove for a few hours in near silence with only the sound of the wind in the open windows and whatever cassette Dean played before he glanced over at Sam, checked the rearview mirror and pulled off the highway at an empty rest point.

"De'n?" Sam woke up after they stopped to look around before finding himself gently pulled across the seat into a hard hug that woke him up more to enjoy the flutter of warm breath along his neck.

"Missed you today, Sammy," Dean murmured, lightly kissing along Sam's jaw before catching his mouth to give in to what he'd wanted to do from the second he'd stepped out of the Sheriff's office. "Didn't feel right going in there without you but…you know why I wouldn't take you, right?"

"Mmmhn…yeah," Sam did and accepted it, even if he didn't like letting his brother face Garret alone. "Is it…I mean is he…you keep this up and we're gonna get arrested," he moaned against Dean's lips at the feel of fingers sliding down and under his shirt just to skim up his chest.

Smiling as he pulled Sam tighter against him to feel the erection that was just starting to push against slacks of his Fed outfit, Dean heard another moan and decided against telling his brother he knew how far the next motel was from where they were while pulling a few more of those sounds he'd always enjoyed hearing from Sam out of him.

"Yeah, baby boy. It's over and he'd handled," Dean assured him, feeling a shiver go through Sam before he also felt something drop against his neck. "You okay?"

Sam nodded, trying to wipe the sudden wetness away before Dean could see but wasn't quick enough as he felt a gentle wipe of his brother's thumb over his face. "Is it wrong that I don't feel bad because you killed him?" he asked quietly, knowing the rules they were raised on but it was hard to care after what he'd been through.

"No, because we were taught not to kill humans but like Pastor Jim and Bobby used to say there are grey areas to those rules and in my book I didn't kill a human," Dean caught Sam's face in his hand to meet and hold his eyes. "I killed a bastard who put his hands on my little brother. That negates the other rules."

While he had his doubts if others would agree, Sam was content to let it go while he reached up to pull the amulet out so he could see it. "How much longer until we get to a motel?" he asked suddenly, tired but also hungry but not for food as he moved his hand down to press against his brother's groin.

"Ten minutes…or five if you keep doing that," Dean groaned low, giving and getting another kiss before putting them back on the road to the relaxing sound of his brother's laughter and accepting that while he had a lot of making up to do that things were definitely looking up when he noticed the way Sam kept squirming now. "You in pain back there?"

The concern was still high because no matter how hard he was or how much Sam complained, Dean still would not touch him if there was even the slim chance of hurting him.

"Not the kind of pain you mean," Sam coughed, shifting again as a faint blush rounded his cheeks and took a slow breath to try to control the ripples going through him. "Got bored…waiting on you today so before I drove over there I…since I was hoping when we stopped this time we'd…I kind of…" he nearly arched right off the seat when Dean's hand moved off the steering wheel to find and slide down the back of his jeans.

"Sammy…what is that?" Dean asked while biting back a moan when his fingers touched hard rubber in his brother's ass and the mere touch nearly had Sam whining.

"Vibrating butt plug," Sam's voice dropped along with his eyes until he was tugged closer again for a hot kiss that included a very through tongue that licked over his mouth until Dean pulled away with a gasping oath.

"Less than five," he decided, tightening his hands on the wheel while shooting his brother a very pointed look. "Once I get us checked in and we get in that room, don't expect to be leaving it for the next twenty-four, little brother."

Sam shivered at both the husky tone and the promise that was hidden in the words as he settled back to count just how much time his brother could cut off those five minutes and what was to come for them.

The End

A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope everyone enjoyed it and thanks for the reviews since those are always welcome.