Sam was lying in bed at the motel. He'd found a pretty interesting sounding case a couple of hours ago and then, after some channel surfing, had given up on the idea of waiting up for Dean. He was probably out nailing some chick and wouldn't be back until morning. And that was fine, Sam told himself, he wasn't going to be jealous over that. At first it had bothered him that Dean hadn't asked him to come with him to whatever bar he was heading to, but then it occurred to him that Dean probably hadn't asked him to come with because he wasn't planning on going to a bar, or, at least, not a regular one. Dean knew of Sam's distaste for strip clubs and brothels and the way Dean had been so on edge lately, it would make sense for him to try and bury himself inside the closest willing warm body to try and to get some release. He felt anger well up inside him thinking about how willing Dean was to give himself over to just about anyone but him before he pushed it down and reminded himself that no one should want to give themselves over to their own brother and then climbed into bed.

He had been asleep for no more than fifteen minutes when Dean burst into the room. "Sam!"

Sam opened his eyes and looked at his brother. Dean was walking with purpose through their room, heading straight towards him and looking frantic. Sam immediately sat up, fully alert. "Dean, what's wrong?"

"Pack your crap, Sam, we're getting outta here!"

Dean picked up his duffel and began throwing random clothes into it. Sam leapt out of bed and began doing the same, knowing that Dean's urgency could only mean that they were under some kind of attack. "What's going on? What happened?"

Dean shoved the last article of clothing from a dresser drawer into his bag and headed into the bathroom. He peeked his head out around the doorframe for a second. "What's going on is we gotta get out of here and hit the road in the next five minutes." Then he ducked completely into the bathroom and disappeared from Sam's sight.

"What is it? A demon?"

"No."

"Then what? A Shapeshifter? Werewolf? Angel? Vampire?"

"None of the above."

Sam stopped packing and threw his bag onto the bed. He was tired of Dean always cutting him out of things, heading off without telling him where he was going, bossing Sam around when he wouldn't even tell him what the hell was going on. Dean must have heard the lack of rustling going on in the room because he peeked his head back out from the bathroom and said, "Come on, Sam, hurry it up, we don't have much time."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"No. I'm not doing anything until you tell me what is so urgent that we have to leave right now in the middle of the night."

"Sam, I told you, we don't have time –"

"Yeah, I don't give a crap, Dean. What's after us that's so damn bad that we have to tuck tail and run in the middle of the night?" Dean finally fully emerged from the bathroom, zipped up his bag, then grabbed Sam's and began packing it for him. Sam threw up his hands in frustration. "You're unbelievable! Okay, you know what, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."

Dean stopped packing and glared at him but Sam stood resolutely still, arms crossed against his chest. At seeing Sam's stubbornness, Dean faltered and his expression changed to one of shame and embarrassment. He looked down at the shirt he was holding in his hand. "I – I think I might be wanted for a hate crime."

"A what?" Okay, that was not what he'd expected Dean to say. It actually sounded so ridiculous that, despite his best efforts, he couldn't help his face from twitching into a lopsided grin. What could Dean have possibly done to make anyone think he'd committed a hate crime?

"You heard me," Dean growled. He threw Sam's bag back down on the bed. "There, I told you, now pack your stuff." With that, he grabbed his own duffel and headed out of the motel room.

Sam dutifully did as he was told, but there was no way he was going to let this go. Dean was really starting to worry him. Lately he'd been on edge, erratic, and more self-destructive than usual, but now he was committing hate crimes? He threw the last of their bags in the car, slammed the trunk, and jumped into the passenger seat. Dean tore out of the parking lot, hands firmly gripping the steering wheel, eyes ridiculously focused on the road, face firmly set in a look of rage and determination. He was simultaneously beautiful and terrifying when he looked like this and right then, the terrifying was winning out. Sam forced himself to wait for almost an hour, until he was fairly certain that they were out of immediate danger from anyone who might be chasing them, before he spoke.

"Pull the car over, Dean."

"If you have to go, there should be a rest stop somewhere within the next thirty miles or so –"

"That's not my problem. Just pull over!"

Dean sighed heavily but did as asked. The car came to rest on a wide, gravel shoulder so big it could easily be turned into another driving lane with the wide, open road to the left and a tall, grassy hill to right. As soon as the car came to a complete stop, Sam got out and began walking towards the trunk. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean roll his eyes before he also got out of the car and followed Sam to the rear, where he standing in front of the locked trunk.

"Come on, Sam, what are you doing, it's the middle of the night! Just get back in the car and we'll talk in the morning."

Sam shot his brother with an angry, defiant glare. "No, we won't. Dean. So we're going to talk right here, right now. We're not going anywhere else until you tell me what the hell your deal is!" He watched as Dean looked at him with an open-mouthed stare, eyes wide and panicked. After about thirty seconds of this, Dean turned and began slowly making his way back to the driver's side door of the Impala. Sam couldn't believe it. They couldn't separate, Dean knew that, and he had had a hard time believing that he would actually try to leave him there. "So, what, you wake me up and make me leave with you in the middle of the night and then leave when I tell you I need to know what's going on?"

"You don't need to know about this!"

"Yes, I do! Man, you've been freaking me out lately. You're reckless, violent and downright scary, and that's when you're not hunting! Something big is going on with you and I can't help you if you won't let me in!"

Dean got into Sam's face, his jaw painfully tensed, eyes hard and angry. "Who said I needed your help? You can't fucking help me, alright? This is out of your control!"

"Just tell me what the problem is so I at least know what I'm up against!"

Their faces were now just inches apart from each other and Dean backed up a few steps and held up his hands in what looked like a surrendering gesture. "Why? You can't help it and you can't change it. But you're right; I'm not in a good place. And I don't want to end up hurting you. Just get back in the car and I'll leave you off at the nearest town."

Sam felt a horrible stab of pain at hearing those words and knowing that his brother, once again, wanted to be away from him. He laughed bitterly and advanced a few steps towards him so they were once again in each other's space. "That might be the dumbest thing you've ever said. We can't separate, Dean! Like it or not, you're stuck with me, so you better tell me the problem so we can work this out!"

Sam felt himself stumbling backwards as Dean shoved him, hard. "I'm the problem, alright?" He rested his forehead in his hand and looked down. "I'm the problem."

Sam stood still, in shock. "What are you talking about?"

"This, all of this," he gestured vaguely into the air, "it's my fault. It's all my fault."

It was infuriating how decidedly cryptic his brother could be while he was in the midst of a bout of self-loathing, but Dean's face was so broken that Sam couldn't bring himself to be angry. "What's your fault?"

When Dean once again looked up, Sam spied a single tear rolling down his cheek before Dean scrubbed his hand over his face, quickly wiping it away. "I – I think I like guys."

About five different emotions shot through Sam one right after another. For about half a second, all he could feel was shock; that was the last thing he expected to hear Dean say. Had he just heard him right? Shock quickly gave way by disbelief. There was no way he really just heard those words come out of his mouth. Dean, the sometimes whorish womanizer…liked guys? This feeling was almost immediately followed by hope, which instantly changed to elation. Sam was a guy. Not only that, but he was a healthy-looking guy, he knew. He watched what he ate and his body was muscular and firm from working out, not to mention all the exercise they got on their hunts. Could Dean find him attractive? Maybe he even enjoyed their time together a few weeks ago? Maybe that was even when he first realized he liked guys? Although these feelings didn't go away, they were rapidly supplemented by overwhelming shame. Dean had probably been struggling with this for a long time. It was completely unrealistic, wishful thinking to believe that he might have been responsible for some sexual awakening inside of him. Not only that, but if Dean's been coming to terms with this for such a long time, then Sam might have actually unknowingly taken advantage of him a few weeks ago when he had drunkenly attacked his poor, sexually confused brother.

Sam was feeling his face twitching into a smile, which he desperately worked to repress. This really wasn't the time to be carried away in flights of fancy over his brother. "There's nothing wrong with that," he heard himself say. Dean had caught the smile though, and immediately looked like he was going to punch Sam. Shit. Of course, Dean knew about Sam's feelings for him. He probably knew exactly what Sam was thinking and was trying to choke back vomit. Then a disturbing thought occurred to him, permanently wiping the smile from his face. He furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Wait a minute, is this…" he put his hands in his pockets and straightened his posture, "are you…beating up gay guys?"

"I didn't mean to!" Dean barked.

Sam couldn't help laughing a bit in spite of himself. This was such a strange conversation, it felt like out of a dream. "What?"

"It was… I don't know! It was sort of an accident. I was making out with this guy behind a bar –"

"You were what?" Sam's body practically tingled with jealousy. That wasn't so funny. Thinking about some guy putting his hands and lips on Dean was about a hundred times worse than thinking about him doing it with a woman.

Dean ducked his head for a second before he looked back up. "Yeah. So, we were…kissing, and he said something and, I don't know, something in me just snapped and I just hit him before I even realized I was doing it. Then his friends came out of the bar and started chasing me. I thought I'd lost them on some of the back roads, but I wasn't sure, so that's why we hightailed it outta there."

"What did he say to you?" Sam could only imagine what kind of crack the guy must have made at Dean to get him to react that way.

"He…" Dean looked down at his shoes and scuffed his boot against the gravel for a second. "He said…" He growled, lifted his head, and looked at something over Sam's right shoulder. "He was going to suck my dick."

Sam couldn't help but give him a smiling, open-mouthed gape. "And that's why you beat him up? Do you usually beat people up when they say that to you?"

Dean glared at him. "It's not funny, Sam. I don't feel good about it. It was, I don't know, like a reflex or something. And I didn't beat him up; I just punched him and took out his legs from under him."

The imagined scene was unfolding in front of him and Sam's body was literally shaking as he tried to contain his laughter. The idea of Dean being so freaked out that he would do something like that was hilarious. Also, some small, irrational part of him couldn't help thinking, "serves that guy right," and was really enjoying the fact that this mystery man didn't get the chance to enjoy Dean's body. He turned and walked back over to the passenger seat and climbed back in to the Impala. Dean continued to scowl at him for another few long seconds before he climbed into the driver's side and they once again took off, driving at a more reasonable speed away from Gillette.

"I found a case," Sam said, breaking the tense silence in the car.

"Where?"

"Montrose, Colorado." He lifted himself off the seat so he could pull the article he had printed out at the motel from his back pocket. He unfolded the crinkled piece of paper and scanned through it to give Dean the highlights. "Candace Adams, thirty-one was found strangled in her home. No footprints, fingerprints, or signs of forced entry. In fact, the house was still armed when the police came in to investigate, and the neighbors all said they hadn't heard or seen anything suspicious during the time the attack would have taken place."

Dean shrugged. "Could be our kind of gig, or could just be some angry ex-boyfriend who knew how to cover his tracks and set the alarm before he left the house."

"Yeah, well, all the same, I think we'd better check it out."

"Sure, okay. Get out your map and tell me where I need to turn to get off this highway."

Sam got out the map and flashlight from the glove compartment. "We'll stay on 90 for a while, until we hook into Route 25 going south. When we do that, I think we should stop at another motel so we can rest for a little before we hit the road again."

Dean nodded and then turned on the radio while Sam hunched down in his seat, rested his head against the window of the car, and closed his eyes.

.

Dean charged into the motel room ahead of Sam, looking surly as he threw his duffel down on one of the beds. Sam trudged in behind him and threw his bag down on the other bed.

"What's got you in such a huffy mood?" Sam asked confusedly as he shrugged out of his jacket.

"Nothing!"

He folded his jacket and managed to throw it over the chair several feet away. "Uh-huh. Clearly."

"It's just…you're in my space."

"Dude, I'm always in your space; it's kind of the way we live."

Before he even realized Dean had moved, he was suddenly about six inches away from his face, arms wrapped around Sam's waist. "Yeah, well, I can't stand it anymore."

Sam felt one of Dean's arms move from around his waist to the back of his head, holding him in place as he brought their lips together. Sam put his hands against Dean's chest and pushed him back, then turned his head and looked away. "Um, Dean, what do you think you're doing?"

"Sam, I just can't take it anymore." He leaned in and nipped Sam's ear. "I want you so bad; you're seriously the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen."

Sam jumped back in surprise. "What?"

"You heard me."

Just seeing the way Dean looked at him so hungrily was beginning to make Sam hard. "Are you sure? I didn't think you wanted this."

Dean grabbed his hand and put it on the crotch of his jeans so Sam could feel that he was already semi-hard. "I want this. Now come on and fuck me already."

Excitement and arousal shot through his body and the only word he could think was, yes, as he grabbed Dean and crushed their bodies and lips together. They both began frantically moving their hands up and down the other's back and arms, feeling hard bodies underneath clothes as they passionately kissed each other so hard that their teeth clinked together more than once. God, Sam needed more contact, needed to touch Dean's skin. He quickly slipped Dean's jacket off his shoulders and threw it to the floor, then broke the kiss so he could take off Dean's button-down shirt. He didn't feel like dealing with the buttons; he was finally realizing years of pent-up sexual energy and he needed Dean naked, now. He grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled, ripping the shirt free of the buttons.

Dean looked at him in shock. "Sam?"

"I'll get you a new one." Dean was still wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt underneath. Why did they always have to dress in so many layers? "Lift your arms," he growled.

Dean immediately did as directed and Sam lifted the shirt away from his body. Damn, he was sexy. Sam had literally seen him shirtless thousands of times, but couldn't help marveling at how beautiful he still looked every time. His chest and stomach were perfectly toned, his skin flawless and tight. He wrapped one arm around Dean's bad and placed the other hand behind his head so he could bring their mouths together in another needy, crushing kiss. He gently bit Dean's lower lip just enough to make it slightly swollen and sensitive, then swiped the spot with his tongue. Dean moaned into his mouth and opened wide, practically begging for Sam's tongue to fill his mouth. Sam hungrily caressed Dean's tongue with him own. Dean pushed on Sam's chest and for a second he worried that Dean wanted him to stop until he felt his hands quickly working the buttons of Sam's shirt open. Sam responded by moving his hands to Dean's pants to unbutton and unzip his jeans, which he then forcefully pushed down Dean's hips, and they fell to the floor. Dean finished with his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor and then pulled him in close, pressing their bodies firmly together as they continued to kiss. Sam moaned as he felt Dean's overheated flesh finally come into contact with his own. After a few seconds he finally broke the kiss and stood back, staring seriously into Dean's lust-blown, green eyes as he quickly unbuckled his belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pushing them and his boxers down around his ankles. Dean watched him hungrily before stripping off his own boxers. When they were both finally naked, Sam eyed him up appreciatively, starting from his beautiful face, down to his finely sculpted arms, chest and stomach, then finally to his large, fully-hard erection. Without much of a thought, he tackled Dean and they both landed hard on the bed. Sam bit Dean's earlobe, eliciting a moan that made his heart jump and his cock twitch.

"Oh god, Dean," he whispered against his ear before licking the shell, "you sound so hot! Tell me what you want. You want me, Dean? Do you want me to fuck you?"

He moved his mouth down to Dean's neck, kissing and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise and Dean moaned almost embarrassingly loud. "Oh, mm, god! Fuck yes, Sam!"

Sam smiled against Dean's soft skin and moved his mouth down lower to his chest where he once again kissed, sucked, and then nibbled on him hard enough to leave another mark. He wanted to mark Dean as his, wanted to walk around the next day and see the bruises he left on his body and let everyone know that Dean was completely his and no one else's. He licked his right hand than then wrapped it around Dean's cock, pumping quickly as he continued to work his mouth down his body, which just made Dean moan even louder.

"Oh god, Sam! Mm, Sam! Sam! Sam!"

"Sam!" A hard, sudden shake to Sam's shoulder made him jump and hit his head against something hard and glass.

"What the…" He looked around wildly for a moment from the dashboard of the Impala, to the dingy white building in front of him, to his still fully-clothed, smirking brother.

"Dude, you gotta tell me about your dream!"

Sam's cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment but he tried to make his face into an expression of innocence and confusion. "What? I wasn't dreaming about anything."

Dean chuckled. "Well, clearly. You sounded like you were having a hell of a time; I felt guilty having to wake you up. Who was it? Threesome with Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston? Some good hate sex going on there, whew!"

"What? No!"

Dean playfully hit him on the arm, still smirking. "Come on, you can tell me!"

"No, no one – nothing!"

"Seriously, you don't have to be embarrassed; I won't make fun of you. What, was it a guy or something?"

Sam was panicked. "No, of course not!"

Dean grimaced. "Alright, whatever." He cleared his throat. "We're here; first motel off Route 25. You want to come into the office with me to check-in?"

Sam looked down to his lap for a second. He was still rock hard. "Um, nah. You go; I'll grab our bags while you get our keys."

Dean picked up on Sam's problem and smirked once again. "Dude, you seriously need to get laid." With that, he shook his head in amusement and got out of the car. Sam watched him swagger towards the manager's office and sighed. The minute he finds out his brother is bi-sexual he goes ahead and has a sex dream about him. As if Dean would even want that; being bi is one thing, it's a whole other matter entirely to want to have a homosexual, incestuous relationship with your brother and only remaining blood relative. How did things become like this? How long has he felt this way? Could he ever make it stop? Well, other than the loud, embarrassing noises that he apparently made in his sleep, he supposed he could dream about Dean all he wanted, just as long as he never acted on it. Speaking of Dean, he was taking an awfully long time in the office. A quick look through the large window in the front showed Dean leaning over the counter and grinning widely at a pretty, petite girl with long, straight brown hair who, judging by her body language and the way she kept flashing her cleavage, was rather interested in Dean. Well, that was certainly helping his erection go away. Sam groaned and let his head fall back against his headrest, hating his jealousy. He'd been jealous over every single one of Dean's women since around the time he was sixteen, and it seemed likely that it wasn't ever going to go away. He got out of the car, opened the trunk, and grabbed their duffels. He was going to have to walk into the office to pry Dean away from the clerk so he could get into their room. And Sam wanted to get into the room as soon as possible so he could fall back onto his bed and enter the only world in which he could love Dean the way he really wanted to.