Purified

A/N: Sorry again for the freakishly long break. But I'm continuing it nevertheless.

Warnings: Prostitution in this chapter beware.
It's beta'd by MalfoyMaladyoftheDark; thank you darling!

Chapter 4- Poison

The house was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight seeping through half-filtered windows. The floor was filthy and messy with God knows what; also it smelled like an old grave filled with sewage. Although it was completely quiet, the hunters knew that was not the case. There were demons in this building; definitely more than one and hopefully not too many.

Dean caught his brother's eye and signaled him to move upstairs. It was a challenging task in this old house; hard to keep quiet while climbing the squeaky stairs. It took them longer than it should to find the room where the demons were keeping the defenseless angel, but luckily they did it without blowing the surprise factor.

Sam started drawing a demon trap in front of the closed door, so that they would not have to worry about anyone attacking from their back. Dean tried to catch any sound coming from the room to estimate the number of demons waiting inside. He heard three distinctly different voices and hoped there were not many others sitting silently. With Sam here, they could take down three demons even though his brother was not in his best shape yet; they were equipped with holy water, salt guns and the blade. Killing the demons was not the priority anyways. If the black-eyes could manage to run away, Dean was not going to try to stop them; the priority was taking Castiel back.

Sam gave a silent nod to his brother and Dean kicked the door open while spraying the room in holy water. There were five demons in the room; waiting just outside the holy fire, circling the bed Castiel lying unconsciously.

"Well, well, well… ain't it the infamous Winchesters?" The bulky guy farthest from the door acknowledged, after the screams rising from the burned demons died out.

"Let's cut it." Dean answered, not patient enough to listen to what they were saying, "We're here for Cas; I suggest that you take the shortcut to safest point and don't look back."

Sam added, "I'd listen to him if I were you."

"Oh, isn't that just sweet." Another demon, who did not look intimidated by the hunters at all, interjected, "I see you're back to being a bitch to your brother. Tell me Sam, how is he keeping you? Binding, beating or just plain offering his sweet ass like Ruby-"

Dean gave him a good dose of holy water before he could finish his words. Sam took care of one demon attacking them in the process, but not without taking couple of blows.

"Stop fighting and go back to your father," Sam yelled while keeping his position next to his brother, "Say 'hi' from me too, it might help as an excuse."

"Father?" The demon smirked, "Do you think we can have face-time with him? It's Meg we answer to."

Dean could sense the fear fuming from the demons when they mentioned Meg's name. They were afraid of her more than the blade or the Hell or maybe even more than Lucifer himself. So, the hard way it was, apparently.

The fight was ugly and definitely not fair. Sam managed to kill one more demon before another one took him down and kept him under its body with a gun to his temple.

"Come on Dean, leave the holy water. You can't dose all of us before we send Sammy to the hell."

"You're bluffing, he is the vessel." Dean tried sounding confident, his poker face on.

"Yeah, but how hard do you think it would be to bring him back to life? For Lucifer I mean. We only need the body to submit to him. But the real question: Do you wanna take that chance?" The demon continued with an ugly grin, "You know how easy to break down someone's stubbornness down there. Believe me; it won't even take that long for your baby brother, he's already halfway there. Of course, I only mean the way he's torturing himself, Dean-o, nothing else."

From where he was pinned down, Sam could only see a part of Dean's face. He tried to interfere, but the demon on top of him was holding his mouth shut tight. He could see Dean's eyes trained on him; he tried to beg through his eyes not to listen to the demons; but Dean's listening had never been at its best when protecting his brother. However, something unexpected happened when Sam was waiting his brother to drop everything: Dean smiled. It was not a big enough smile that anyone could understand what it was; but Sam, counting each of his brother's smiles as blessings, could recognize it clearly. Before Sam could process the meaning behind the smile, Dean started dousing the holy water towards the empty part of the room.

It surprised the demons that Dean was wasting his only weapon. That surprise cost them precious seconds to realize where actually the water hit and the small opening it created in the ring of holy fire; the seconds which exactly how long it took for Castiel to move out of the circle and to take care of the demon closest to him. The other two ran away in the from of black smoke, not realizing that the angel could not even stand after his first kill.

"Cas!" was the last thing Sam heard before the meat-suit fell on him and blocked all his hearing. He strenuously moved himself from under the long-dead, gigantic body to find Dean hugging the wasted angel.

"Tell me you can walk on your own." Dean pleaded, his eyes worrying over Sam's wound.

"I guess so. It's just a flesh wound," Sam answered, but his face crumbled with pain after his first step. "OK. Maybe, crawling is better."

"Don't be a baby!" Dean smiled, "Come on, we gotta go."

XXX

It was not the pain that made Sam miserable during the trip back to Bobby's. It was the freaking blood… on the blade, on him, on every-fucking-where. It had been hard enough to resist while waiting in a room full of demons. Sam had managed it though. He had not licked even a single drop, which by the way would be so easy, so freaking easy. Dean would not even sense anything. Sam could have done it; but he had not. And for what? To sit down for six fucking hours, covered with the very blood that poisoned his soul. As if it was not enough torture, his brother started to smell even better, even more irresistible, and even more delicious. It was so hard to resist the temptation that his frustration was gradually growing into a full-blown fury.

Sam was angry; he was furious. Angry at himself for lusting after something lower than street crack, fucking demon blood. He was lower than the vampires who crave -at least- for the blood of humans. No, Sam Winchester could not have that. He had to aim even lower down in the freak pole. He was angry at Dean too; for not even considering to stop on the way so that they could clean up. Dean did know how demon blood affected Sam. How many times he had accused Sam for the very same thing? He fucking knew perfectly. However, here they were, cramped up in a car which stank with blood so bad, so freaking bad that Sam could taste it in his tonsils. There was no way Dean did not sense this stinking smell. He was deliberately forcing Sam to choose between enduring this torture or the humiliation of speaking up about his fucking addiction. Yeah, that was probably it. It had never been enough how much humiliated Sam was; Dean always looked forward for the next chance to rub it into his brother's face.

His brain was working overtime; he could feel himself heating up like an engine burning its oil. The smell was overwhelming, intoxicating, and Sam was losing it.

"Sammy, you alright?" Dean asked worriedly.

"Just drive, Dean." Sam could not trust himself to speak any more than that right now. The fury rising inside him was pushing his limits. All his efforts to calm himself were futile. Everything was making him angry; even the angel on the back seat. He could not help but replay the scene of Dean reaching for Cas, carrying him as if he was a freaking damsel in distress. The gentleness in Dean's touch, which by the way Sam could no longer have unless he was on the brink of death, was making his skin crawl. Dean was freely giving that intimacy to his –HIS!- angel. Same as all the flirty smiles that he gave away to those nameless sluts, but begrudged even a sniff to his own brother.

"Stop at the first chance." He managed to ask finally, "I gotta clean up from this shit."

Dean gave him a strange look, as if he could not see the redness covering Sam's jeans.

"What?" Sam was agitated enough; he did not need the look on top of everything.

"Nothing man. Cool down. I'll stop. I gotta visit the bathroom too," Dean answered, knowing for sure that something was wrong, but having no idea what it was. He saw the red spots on Sam's jeans when he searched for them; but they were way too small to cause such reaction. Sam could be considered obsessively clean only when compared to Dean; he was not Mr. Clean by a long shot.

XXX

The anger did not go away. It had not mattered that Sam had cleaned his jeans during the trip; cleaning the blade or washing his face had not helped either. The smell had travelled with Sam, even into Bobby's house. It had taken two whole days until Sam could smell anything other than demon blood or his brother. Even after he had got his sense of smell back, it had not got any easier. The urge for demon blood had lessened, probably because there was not any to remind him, but the desire for his brother's skin had not. Not even slightly. Always there, always pushing –or pulling more accurately- always... He had snapped at Dean or Bobby so many times in the past two days that he lost count. He sensed that they were inches away from having an intervention. And Sam was suffocating between these walls.

It did not help at all that Dean was spending all his time with Castiel. The angel had managed to stay unconscious since his miraculous save-the-day and Dean was trying to help him as he had learnt from Harut: Applying some stupid creams, burning some disgusting incense and chanting some Enochian spells which Sam was sure it was not supposed to be pronounced like that. Sam wanted to go out and kill something, anything… OK, definitely not a demon, but anything else: skinwalker, werewolf, zombie or ghoul… anything that he could aim his fury towards. However, Dean decided to wait until his angel was back. So, no hunting because Dean's decisions were orders now. Sam was left with only one other choice. He hated that choice; but he was also aware that he could not keep it together any longer.

Sam did not like paying for sex, it was degrading for both parties and Sam was better than that. 'Right.' The voice in his head mocked him. Old-Sam maybe; but he was sure that there were not that many steps lower than the new, blood-thirsty, brother-fucker Sam. The main thing that made his stomach turn upside down in this choice was that he was going to use something he learnt from Ruby. It felt like he was betraying Dean. On the other hand, it definitely trumped over raping his brother… again… so no contest there.

It had been almost two years since Ruby had brought him the boys; right after Dean was taken to Hell. How miserable it was that Sam still remembered/knew all the places that he could find a cheap street hustler? The boy Ruby had found was probably not working there anymore, but Sam was sure he could find someone else just fine. This was his only way out of this clusterfuck.

XXX

Sam could not find anyone even remotely resembling his brother. Of course, he had not checked every single hooker in the town, but he did not have time to do so either. He felt like an addict desperately in need for the next fix: miserable and fervid. Someone had suggested this bar, claiming a dark blond with green eyes worked here. Sam hoped for everybody's sake that the boy was available.

It did not take him too long to spot the boy in the bar. Sam did not know what it said about himself that he could easily spot a hustler in a crowded bar. The boy was a little bit younger, shorter and skinnier than what he had in mind, but he was the best Sam could get. The desire in him was burning so hot that he was afraid flames were going to gush out if he exhaled even slightly stronger. He did not even play it cool; just went directly to the hustler. The boy's eyes were not the same shade, but he had those ridiculous freckles on his nose and cheeks. Also, from up close, Sam realized he was actually older than he was presenting himself; probably it paid better looking young, but Sam did not find in himself feeling sorry for the boy; not right now. Tomorrow, when he doused the fire in him, he could feel as bad as he wanted, but now the fire was burning too hot to be able to feel anything else.

"Hello there." The boy had already recognized Sam's intentions apparently. He put that flirty smile on his face and shook his hips subtly. "See anything you like?"

"I'll take you in the bathroom now, and then we'll go to a motel-"

"Awww, I like it fast, but I need to see the money first."

"That's not a problem." Sam held the boy's arm in an attempt to move him towards the restroom.

"I'm sure, but I gotta-"

"Here." Sam shoved the money into the boy's hand. "Now, walk and don't talk." He did not want to listen to the too thin voice.

The hooker apparently did not need to count the money one by one to get a sense of how much Sam gave him. He silently pushed the stack into his pocket and moved towards the dimly lit corridor.

Sam wanted to go to a motel and spend the whole night pounding the ass swinging right in front of him; but he did not trust himself to be able to wait until he made it there. So, one quick fix in a dirty bar toilet was unavoidable.

The restroom was larger than necessary, indicating that this type of business was actually encouraged by the management. Sam shoved the boy into one of the large stalls.

"Turn your back and don't make a sound." Sam groveled while opening the buttons of the hustler's way too tight jeans. He had to get in there like yesterday, he had to-

"Fuck! How do you even get in these things, get rid of them."

The boy was a smart one apparently; he did slide out off the jeans without making a sound and pushed his tight ass back to grind on Sam's pulsing erection. Sam could not wait any longer; he could barely stop himself to put the condom on before pushing right into the boy's ass, balls deep. Only then he realized that he had not even attempted to prepare the boy. Luckily, the hooker was ready; took all of Sam in only with a deep groan, his lips sealed tight.

"God!" The warm tightness surrounding his dick was like a drug. Sam felt that the painful flames got a little bit more under control. He slowly pulled himself back, but before he could go all the way out, he had to push back in; he could not stand staying out of this warm cocoon right now.

"Fucking… tight!" How was that even possible, a common street hustler feeling this tight? Sam had no idea, but it was purely gratifying. It had been too long since Sam had had any kind of release with anyone and the last couple of weeks had made everything even harder. His dick was happy, throbbing, searching for a release. However, something was missing, wrong. The groans the hustler was giving him, for example. It was too playful, too staged. Also, Sam might get over the lack of physical resemblance by closing his eyes, but the smell was completely off. His body knew it was not the object of his desire, only a poor surrogate.

Sam was determined though; he increased his pace. First, he shut the boy's mouth with his way too large hand. The hustler got the message and went into a complete silence. Then, he bent the boy over the toilet bowl to keep him far enough away to not smell the cheap aftershave. The ridiculously scented bar bathroom was all he could smell right now, not ideal but... He could close his eyes and imagine it was a different person under him now. He held the narrow hips tight and started pounding like there was no tomorrow. He did not realize that the boy started whimpering from the almost brutal fucking. He did not realize that he was grunting his brother's name while banging the boy either. He was way too close and his ears were ringing with all the blood pounding there. Finally, finally he was getting rid of the poison that had been accumulating in him for days, weeks.

When he came, it felt almost like the real deal; he could even feel the familiar scent of leather and gun-oil too. He kept going on few more times before taking his dick out and getting rid of the condom.

"Fuck man!" The hustler spoke while pulling his jeans up. "Sorry dude, but I can't do this all night. If that's what you want, you gotta increase-"

Sam, under his orgasm induced haze, realized that the boy stopped as soon as he turned, that something was wrong, that they were being watched. When Sam looked back, he saw that the door of the stall was open and the very person who had that familiar gun-oil scent was standing right there, with a gun pointed towards them.

"I… I haven't seen anything. Please, please... I'm nobody... Please." The hustler was shivering with fear; his eyes were stuck to the gun.

"Get out of here, kid." Dean lowered his gun, sliding to the side to give a way to the trembling hustler.

However, instead of running away fast, the kid turned towards Sam and held out the money Sam had given him previously. His hands were shaking so intensely that Sam did not need to second-guess the hustler's fear; the boy was afraid of being chased for couple of hundred dollars.

"Keep it." was all he could say and the hooker was gone in the next moment.

The awkward silence between the brothers was growing and Sam was feeling more and more ashamed with every drop of blood returning back to his brain.

"Dean…" He started, only to end that silence.

"Stop! Stop it." Dean sounded furious and that was when Sam remembered whose name he was calling while empting his balls into a hustler.

"I… I don't-"

"Shut the fuck up! Do you have any idea what I thought when you just ran away? Do you have any fucking idea?" Dean's voice filled the bathroom, scaring a couple of patrons away. "I thought they finally got you, you stupid fucker. I was… Was it too hard to say something? Hell, what did you think I'd say if you told me that you need to get fucking laid?"

"Dean…"

"Fuck you!"

Sam saw that Dean's fists were throbbing, ready to hit someone, most probably Sam. What could he say?

"I… I can't control-"

"Control what? Your fucking dick! How old are you?"

That's when Sam lost it. He knew he had no right, but he was furious too. He had been resisting the two strongest temptations known to man –this might not be confirmed by the rest of the humanity just yet, but Sam was sure- and not a single person acknowledged how hard he was trying.

"Old enough to fuck someone without asking my brother's fucking permission."

"Oh! That was grown up, Sammy boy! Sneak away and put your dick into first available hole. What if it was someone else here instead of me? You didn't even lock the freaking door, you stupid son of-… I'm not even talking about the demons, it could be-"

"Is there a problem guys?"A muscle man said, probably one of the bouncers, standing by the door.

"No. No, we're leaving." Sam fled towards the door without looking back, knowing that Dean would follow him.

TBC...