==000==

It was so quiet in the room. All he could hear was the thudding of his heart, the blood rushing around his ears. He looked over at Sam. This was all so fucked up. Something he had had to stop himself from thinking of a short few days ago was now the only thing that could save his brother's life. If he were to do this, there was no if he corrected himself, when he did this, it had better work and he prayed to the heavens, again, that once he was well, it would all be a fevered dream to Sam. "Please don't let him remember" Dean begged under his breath.

He was just wasting time. He stomach was rebelling at the grossness he had just put in it. He promised himself the hottest chilli yet once this was over. Enough. He stripped off his t-shirt then divested himself of the rest and, quickly moving to the bed, crawled in to lie next to Sam.

On his side, he ran the back of his bent fingers down the closest cheek calling to him softly. Eliciting no reaction, he let his finger press along the jawbone, so prominent in the drawn face. Sam was still beautiful to him, for he could see much more than what others saw. He saw loyalty, sacrifice, friendship and companionship. He saw love, family and the only home he knew. It was not a place, not, wherever his head was laid. Dean lived wherever Sam was.

Pulling the face towards him, Sam's eyes fluttered open but could not stay that way. He was so weak Dean worried that he would be hurt by him so, as gently as he could, he moved to lie more on top of Sam without resting his full weight. He kissed him lightly on the chin then moved to his mouth. He felt so wrong, but knew he had no choice now.

His body was not fooled as was his mind. It did not deny its true feelings for the younger sibling. No convention impeded its desire and now Dean refused to let his mind dwell on the wrongness of this. As he deepened the kiss, caressing Sam's neck with fingers unused to stroking stubble, Sam seemed to wake up. His lips began to respond to the touch and strength appeared from nowhere, just as before, but slowly.

Dean broke contact licking his sore bottom lip. He knew it was raw again as he left his blood on Sam's mouth. It was startling in its bright hue on that sallow skin. Sam must have felt it too as he licked his lip greedily, his eyes now open and focused on him. "Dean." spoken in relief, confusion and a breathy longing.

"I'm right here," a whisper onto his lips.

Sam's hands came up to hold onto his shoulders pulling him down and he kissed him with a thirst that Dean was willing to quench now unlike earlier. He had a thought that Sam had known then what his body needed and gave up on trying to rationalize anything. He kissed as he was kissed, his hands holding, grasping harder than he had intended but the response he was getting just goaded him on.

He climbed fully on top of the too thin frame, lying along his entire length and Sam's legs opened immediately welcoming him. 'He's not himself' he told himself, 'he doesn't know what he's doing', but whatever state Sam was in, he did not seem to think, just react and Dean took a lesson from him. This was not his brother. This was not someone who had been drugged, fooled and was in need of treatment, a cure. This was a responsive body wanting him, enjoying his touch, his attentions. He let himself do the same. Any morality did not matter. Not now as he was being kissed, as a tongue forced its way into his mouth. He met it with his own ignoring the stale taste and joined in the dance, the duel.

It was strange, a body longer than his, and although thinner than usual, he could feel the muscles just under the surface, strong now as hands clutched at his back, fingers spread and pressing in. Sam's legs came up to enclose his waist, heels pressing down on the back of his legs pulling up his buttocks as he tried to encourage Dean to set a pace. To enter him and set rhythm. Dean responded moving on him in time to the goading but it was not enough for Sam. He wanted him inside him, he needed him.

Dean pulled his lips away from Sam's and pushing up on hands either side of his chest lined himself up. Damn. He hadn't thought of that. He cast around, but there was nothing he could use. "Dean. Please." Sam was reaching for him. He knelt up, one hand on Sam's chest to keep him still, and spat into his other palm. It would have to do. Then Sam got his wish as pushing Dean entered him.

Slowly, gently because, as ever, he had no wish to hurt him, Dean pushed in and waited for acceptance. Sam hissed, his back arching, forcing his hard prick against Dean's belly, then let out an almost laugh. Dean's arms trembled as he held himself still, waiting, but the look of pure lust on Sam's face was urging him to continue. The tightness around him relaxed and he pushed in further until he was safely inside. After all, it was not the first time he'd had anal, just the first time with a man. With Sam.

Sam did not want to take it slowly, he wanted to be filled, to be consumed all at the same time. His hands were up on Dean's back pulling him closer, he wanted him closer, his legs were high, feet on Dean's legs and he moved a hand down to grasp a buttock painfully enough to make Dean rear back and drag in a breath. He did not care, he just did everything he could to pull Dean into him.

Dean was amazed at where Sam found the strength and just hoped that this time he would be stronger, cured unlike before with his body being 'used up'. He wanted to kiss him, but it was too awkward with his extra length, so he settled for burying his face in Sam's neck, to nibble, kiss and suck, and he could feel Sam's pulse beating steadily stronger.

Oh, this had to work, for he knew that once Sam was well, once he was himself and healthy, he would want to do this again. Not as a cure, not under dire circumstances, but if he could, if Sam would allow him, he would do this again. He would make love to Sam, he would have sex with Sam. He would fuck him.

With this thought running through his mind he knew this was not going to last long. Sam was gasping, pushing down on him, and he was building to a quick climax. He rose up, once more looking into Sam's face, and his eyes came to meet him, staring as intensely up into his. He seemed to signal his assent and, with one more mighty push, Dean came, shuddering, watching Sam's face as he was in turn watched. A couple more movements and he collapsed, breathing deep and sighing out his brother's name as he felt Sam's response spread across his belly.

Slipping from him, he continued to lie on the relaxing body under him. His ear resting over Sam's heart, he thought he could hear it gaining strength. He smiled closing his eyes and let his body relax knowing Sam would be able to take his weight.

After a while, he noticed something was happening. He rolled off Sam onto his side and placing a hand to cup his brother's face, watched as he began to shake. It was not too bad, looking not unlike he was in a fever again. His body jerked slightly and his face looked pained. "Dean?"

"I'm here." He assured him, sitting up, leaning over so Sam could see him as he did not seem able to move except to just shake. He had sounded scared. Dean stroked the side of his face, his hair and a small smile touched his lips. "You'll be okay soon." And he leant to kiss him softly then continued to stroke his hair. He wanted to tell him how much he loved him, but couldn't, as the feeling was just too overwhelming as he watched Sam breathe in deeply then, relax.

Watching him sleep, Dean could see Sam's colour coming back almost before his eyes but guessed that it would take longer for him to regain his strength completely. As long as he was going to be alright. He looked down the length of him. His fingers followed his eyes and he had a momentary feeling of trepidation. He was sure somehow he was going to have to pay for the pleasure he had taken in this. He should not have enjoyed this but he had. There were no lies, no denial. He had enjoyed fucking his brother and thought of being able to do it again and how much better it would be when Sam was at full strength.

He could not help but smile at the thought. In his imagination, Sam would fight him somewhat as he wanted it the other way around and, with a jump in his belly and sudden stiffening, he too realised that that's what he really wanted. He wanted Sam to fuck him. He wanted to feel him inside him. He wanted not to be the older dominant one. He wanted to give up all responsibility and have Sam take control of him.

His fingers continued to play across Sam's skin then to slightly tug at the dark hairs leading down from his navel. Sam chose that moment to wake up.

Watching Dean, Sam was at a loss as to what was happening. He did not dare move but studied the look of concentration on his brother's face. He felt like he had the hangover from the lower reaches of Hell and could not recollect much of the night before. His stomach hurt, he knew that, and it felt like there was something crawling in his belly, deep inside him. He was going to throw up.

Pushing himself off the bed, he stumble on wobbly legs into the bathroom and, collapsing to knelling, held onto the toilet seat as he threw up what felt like everything that he had ever eaten. It went on for an eternity.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed relieved. He was sure that Sam was on the mend. He had done it and now it would be okay. He had him back and he was sure that they would be closer than ever, that they would continue to be closer than ever. He looked up as a very unsteady figure held onto the doorway, looking miserable but alive. "What the Hell happened last night?" Sam asked hoarsely.

Where to start? But before he could begin Sam had more questions. Looking really confusedly at him, Sam asked, "When did you get back?"

Dean's world momentarily slipped. "What d'you mean?"

"When did you get back? Simple question and…..why are you sat on my bed … naked?" he fixed Dean with a 'what the Hell you been doing' look, but he was saved from answering as Sam fled back into the bathroom to be sick yet again.

Dean was numb. Sam could not remember. He did not appear to remember any of it. On automatic he slowly picked up his t-shirt and jeans, pulling them on, trying desperately not to acknowledge that Sam did not know what he had done. Did not know that he had craved it and, what's more, would no doubt freak out if he told him. He slumped onto the bed and felt as if he had just been stabbed. But it was what he had wanted, what he had begged for.

Just how much should he tell him? Sam needed to know, but could he really break the news to him that their greatest threat had possessed the corpse of the man he loved? That she had used it to fuck him, intending that he should have been essentially 'fucked to death', and the only cure was that his brother should, 'fuck him alive'? How the Hell could he tell him that, never mind the rest of it?

He had to get out of here. He felt feverish himself and could not face Sam when he came into the room with more questions. If Sam did not remember what they had done he must never know. That was going to be a hell all of its own, because even now, underneath all the misery that was suddenly heaped on him, in both mind and body, Dean wanted Sam.

He grabbed his jacket and leaving called out, "I'm going to get you something to eat." And could not help but laugh on Sam instantly retching in response. It was in relief, he knew, but how long was he going to be able to keep all this from Sam? Hands deep in pockets, he headed out to find a local market.

Walking back to the motel, carrying a brown paper sack with some actually healthy food in it, he encountered Bobby exiting his beat up truck where he had been sat waiting. He looked relieved to see Dean out and about and asked after Sam.

"It worked." Dean told him but could not bring himself to look the older man in the eye. "He doesn't remember. Bobby?" and sort of peeped at him.

"I won't say anything," obviously also embarrassed. "What are'ya goin' to tell him?"

"As little as I have too," sighing, his shoulders dropping.

"I'm glad I caught you out here." and motioned Dean to follow him. "We got a problem. Guess we aught to deal before Sam sees." And, on reaching the Impala, indicated the body in the passenger seat. Dean sagged and swore under his breath as Bobby said "I take it then that that was the David?"

That fuckin' bitch. He glanced at the motel room window, dreading seeing Sam looking out, but it was clear. "We gotta …get this done now."

"Come on. I won't make you do this alone." And Bobby went to his truck to fetch a sheet then, once they had gently wrapped and laid Sam's lover on the back seat, he returned ready to follow the black car onto the road. It was a small funeral cortege, but a sad one.

"Where've you been? You promised me food."

==000==

Dean had trouble looking at his brother as he could still smell the funeral pyre smoke on himself and he went back out to collect the paper sack, dumping it on the nearest bed and headed into the bathroom.

Sam practically pounced on the food tipping the bag up. He was ravenous now his stomach had finally settled down and did not want to think about what had been happening from the other end. Around a mouthful of sandwich he yelled out, "You gonna tell me what's been happening?" What with the graffiti and all, he had had a worrying time cataloguing all that had been done to the room. There was a muffled shout and then the sound of the shower been turned on. He sat down and carried on eating while he waited.

Bundling his clothes up, Dean wrapped himself in a towel and, taking a deep breath, entered the room throwing the bundle into a corner and quickly found a clean set of clothes to put on. "I'm still hungry." Came from behind him and he turned slowly to gaze at his brother.

"Well you look a hell of a lot better. I was worried there for a while." Making light of it.

"Are you going to tell me now?" pointing at the two word message.

"You don't you remember anything?" but all he got was a frown.

Sam had been trying to recollect, to work out just what had been going on for the last two days. The TV had told him the date and it was Wednesday. The last thing he remembered clearly was Dean driving off without him on Monday. He had had some wild dreams and did not doubt they were just that.

Dean came to sit on the bed opposite him. He seemed really nervous. Sam tensed, what had he got to tell him? Nothing good by the look of it. He asked, not wanting to know as he dreaded the answer, "Dean? What did I do? Please don't tell me I hurt someone."

"Not you." And Dean finally looked at him.

"But because of me." It was not really a question.

"Sammy. Did you go out on Monday?"

"After you told me not to?" he was thinking hard and he sort of remembered something, an offer of a drink, a woman. "Yes." He admitted feeling like an errant teenager.

"Did someone give you a drink?"

"She offered but I said no. I wasn't in the mood." A pause then, "Why?"

"You were drugged. Then somehow there was a 'ritual' performed on you." And he turned away not wanting to say anymore. He was not going to tell him what it involved or more importantly, who.

"Who by?"

Dean gave him a look that Ruby would have been proud of and, raising an eyebrow, also raised a finger to point over Sam's head to the wall. "Oh." Was all Sam said, then after a pause, "If she got in here why not just kill me?"

"We thought of that and we think…."

Sam interrupted him with, "Who thought?"

"Bobby, Ruby and me." He admitted. "We all headed back here when we realised that we'd been sent on a wild goose chase and they'd not really tried to kill us." He thought back. They had hurled rocks and sticks at them, tried to break through the barriers but not one had shot at them. A ring of salt and incantations would not have stopped a bullet.

"You thought what?" Sam prompted.

"That you were to die slow and I was to suffer." He shrugged. "Probably thought it would be more 'fun' that way."

"What makes you think that?" he was not thinking that clearly and wanted it all spelt out for him because all he could truly think of was his stomach. It was sore but hungry. "I'm hungry." He added absently.

Dean wondered, 'How can he think of his stomach at a time like this', and nearly burst out laughing. It was similar to what Sam had asked him on numerous occasions growing up. At the look he received, he shook his head in apology and gestured over his shoulder at the message on the back of the door.

Sam had forgotten about that. He had noticed it earlier and been unable to ascertain its significance. He could not think clearly and did not like the feeling, never mind that he appeared to have had a blackout lasting at least two days. "So?... How did you …break the….spell?" and looked up inquiringly.

Dean had practiced this and hoped that Sam would never find out that he lied to him, and that he should never ever find out why. "Dude. You do not want to know what we made you drink!" laughing as if he found it hilarious.

Perhaps he didn't, but he did need to eat. "Come on." Getting up and getting his jacket. "I'm famished." And left the room without further question confident, as always, that Dean would follow him. They had been following each other around near all their lives.

==000==

TBC...