Warnings: Spoilers for Playthings. Wincest. NOT SO mild.

Author's Note: I am sooooo sorry that it took so damned long, but real life caught up with me! I'm sorry! But I think it was worth the wait! FINALLY SOME ACTION! *lol*

Second Note: LOOOOOOOOL I just watched episode 10x6 of Smallville. And there was the woman that played the god from the chrismas episode of SPN and my first thought was: NOOOOO SHE WILL EAT YOU! NOOOO! And guess what...I was right!

Disclaimer: Wanna bet that Kripke made a deal to come up with this show? Would explain the 5 year story arc... 5 years fame, 5 years spending the money.

Playlist: These Things - She wants Revenge

So here you have it.

Reviews are highly desired ^^

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Chapter 12: Unexpected

Grandma Rose knew they were onto her. Dean could feel it. He didn't know how she did it, but he was convinced that old witch was using some hoodoo to toy with their heads trying to get them off her back. It just wasn't normal that a little misunderstanding as earlier at check-in would've got him reeling like this. Every time he looked Sam in the eye he just wanted to bolt from the room. Since that was out, he stuck with taking the piss out of him, whenever he got a chance. Yes, his little show act with the dolls had been overdone, but he just couldn't deal with this situation any other way.
He had separated from his brother to find some dirt on the old woman. At least that was what he had told Sam. To tell the truth though... he couldn't stand to be jammed together into their little room right now. However his fruitless investigation were soon to be interrupted by the whining of a police siren. When he reached the porch his eyes fell on the body bag. Dean had been dreading but also expecting another murder to take place.

What he hadn't expected was the sight unfolding before his eyes when he returned to their room. Just thirty minutes had past since the newest case of 'bad luck' had taken place, as Susan had put it. Thirty minutes. In such a narrow time frame his brother had managed to get himself drunk as a skunk. Goofy laugh, wobbly head, bleary eyes, the whole package.
Empty spirit bottles were scattered all over the little cabinet by the window and the bundle of research papers had somehow ended up all over the place.

"Dude, what are you thinking? We're working a case."

The last time Dean had seen Sam touch anything stronger than beer had been months ago after they ran into a homicidal clown. He had gotten a good laugh out of his brothers inability to conquer his 'clown-o-phobia', but not this time. This time the drinking was uncalled for and right down reckless, since it left Sam vulnerable for attacks. He wanted to be angry but the only feeling he could muster was concern. This just wasn't Sam's style at all. He was usually the one reminding Dean to go easy on the booze, especially when they hadn't figured out what they were up against yet.

"That guy who hung himself...I couldn't save him."

"What are you talking about? You didn't know, you couldn't have done anything."
"That's an excuse, Dean." The young hunters eyes were glistening with unshed tears as he finally looked up from the chair he was slumping on.

"I should have found a way to save him. I should have saved Ava too."

At last things were falling into place. Of course this was about Ava. Frankly, Dean shouldn't have been surprised. He had feared that Sam's sudden calm concerning her disappearance had only been a facade, that would start to crumble eventually. He hadn't wanted it to go down like this though.

The older hunter approached the picture of misery that used to be his brother.

"You can't save everyone, even you said that."

Sam's fist came crashing down on the table beside him. Unchecked anger glistened in his eyes, his chest heaving with every breath he took. Dean took an intuitive step back, not wanting his face to be next thing his brother felt obliged to hit.

"No, Dean, you don't understand, all right? The more people I save, the more I can change!"

"Change what?"

"My destiny, Dean!"

The older hunter felt his own fist twitch, tasting bile in his throat. If he heard the word 'destiny' ever again he might actually have to vomit. But he pulled himself together when he registered the look on his opposite's face. Sam had always had the puppy eyes down to the nail, but now he looked downright like a lost whelp, abandoned by the side of the road. So he pushed his snappy remark back.

"All right. Time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch."

Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and manhandled him into a standing position. There was no way he could reason his brother out of his self-pity right now anyway.

"I need you to watch out for me."

"I always do." Dean replied with a grunt. It was hard to move 6'4'' of muscle and bones with a little help by the owner, but a drunk Sam was nearly impossible to deal with.

"No! No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever turn into something that I'm not"

Sam was pausing for a beat, as if he was reassuring himself that his brother was actually listening. Dean really didn't like the direction this conversation was heading, but couldn't help but simply stare at his taller brother, dreading the words that would irrevocably leave his lips.

"You have to kill me."

"Sam." He needed to get his brother into bed, needed to stop this talk here an now. This wasn't supposed to happen. Sam wasn't supposed to think about this stuff. Not like this.

"Dean you have to do it. Even now, everyone around me dies!"

"Yeah, well, I'm not dying, okay? And neither are you. Come on, sit down."

With a thump the younger one landed on his bed, as Dean pushed him into a seating position. Sam's hands were still tangled in his older brothers jacket, holding on to anything he could reach. "No, please! Dean, you're the only one who can do it. Promise."

They were only inches apart now. Dean smelled the alcohol in his brother's breath that washed over his face in warm waves.

"Don't ask that of me." He wanted to run, this was never supposed to happen. Sammy was never supposed to dread his own existence, to be scared of his future. His hand tightened around his brother's shoulder, desperately trying to lift this weight from him. It was too late though, he knew that. But he didn't want it to be too late. There had to be a way to change things, to make everything stop.

"Dean, please. You have to promise me."

He wished his father was here to take control of the situation. He prayed for his mother to be alive to stop him from doing this. Every fibre in him hurt as he answered, but this was the only way to help Sam right now.

"I promise."

Before he had time to regret his words Sam shot forward, crashing his lips onto Dean's. There was no hesitation, no second thought, just pure, uncensored need.
Dean was too shocked to pull back. Too shocked to do anything, but freeze. His entire body tensed in a mixture of surprise, fear, confusion and adrenaline. He needed to get away, needed to stop, to distance himself from Sam as far as humanly possible. However his brain shut off as he registered the feeling of Sam's lips. They were soft against his own, hot and still tasted of tequila. Before he realised what he was doing he felt himself responding, just slightly tilting his head into the kiss. His heart was banging against his ribs, making him anxious they might break. Sam's hand was on his neck, desperately clutching him closer. His own hand somehow ended up in his brother's too long hair, grasping for redemption from the horrible obligation he had just laid upon himself. The silence in the room was only interrupted by their heavy breathing and racing hearts. Sam's lips parted just enough for his tongue to ghost over Dean's lower lip. It felt like electricity running through him, making every fibre of his body over aware. Without thinking he let his own lips part, permitting his brother entrance.

The very second their tongues met, Sam thought he was going to pass out. Nothing had ever quite felt like this before. Yes, he was drunk and he had no idea where this was coming from, and yes, he was practically forcing himself on his brother, but this just felt...right. There was no other way of putting it. His never-resting mind went blank, all thoughts of blame and destiny forgotten. For the first time in a log time he felt complete. Save.

A low moan escaped his throat and vibrated through Dean's body like an earthquake. As if waking from a dream, Dean came to his senses. What was he doing? This was Sammy, his little brother he had known for all of his life. The little guy with the running nose, sore knees, open innocent eyes and a heart as vast as the sky. This wasn't right. This was anything but right.

Jerking his head back, his hands restraining Sam from moving in closer again, Dean could only stare. Mouth slack, breathing still labored, eyes wide with fear of himself.

"Sam."
His voice was barely a whisper. Hazel eyes gaped back at him, reflecting his own confusion like a mirror.
The tension filled the room like a thick rain cloud, threatening to raven the air from their lungs.

"All right. Come on."

Dean bated Sam's hands away and shoved him back on the bed. His head still felt numb, caught in the haze, but he couldn't deal with this right now. Without much resistance Sam let himself rolled onto his belly, burying his spinning head in the musty pillow.

The older hunter stared at the still form in front of him.

'What have we done...'

Disgust for himself ascended in his throat, leaving a sour taste behind. His hand scrubbed over his mouth, trying to erase the lingering warmth of Sam's lips. He could still feel the softness of his brother's mouth against his own.

'I'm so going to hell for this.'

Dragging his hand over his face and through his hair he decided to do the only thing he could do right now - find the nearest bottle of Scotch.

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tbc

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Steamy enough for now? I just love that scene, wincest goggles or not. The tension is just heart breaking. Just imagine your sibling asking you to kill them... I admire Dean for his strength.