"We're putting you two in a protected place. Kind of like a middle dimension, or something. It'll keep you shielded from demons while you work." John leaned against a wall, arms folded over his chest, watching Dean fight his way into sweats and a t-shirt.

White room cinder block walls smells like a basement

Sammy

Dean pretended to lose his balance in the struggle to get his foot into his pants, using the motion to turn away from his father, hiding a growing erection that he was loathe to explain, even to himself.

"How long?"

"How long have you got?"

Dean nodded, tugging soft cotton over his hips.

John shrugged. "As long as it takes, I guess. Or until Lucifer finds you. Not sure we can prevent him from taking both of you if it comes to that."

The shirt in Dean's hand shook with the force of his heart beat. "Sam...Sam can't be here." His voice was ragged.

"Then do your job, Dean." There never had been nor ever would be any compromise with John Winchester.

He nodded submissively. "Yes, Sir."

"Sammy." Dean crossed the room in two long-legged strides, nearly choking on his brother's name.

"Dean!"

They fell into each other, arms compressing with enough force to drive the pain of separation into a deep corner of each man's soul.

"I thought I'd never see you again."

"I tried, Dean. I tried so hard. You have no idea."

Dean felt his brother's tears soaking into the hair behind his ear, and he ran his hands over the boy's back, soothing him. "I know, buddy. I know."

When they separated, it was just enough to be able to see each other's face: their palms still rested on the other's forearms.

"This place looks familiar." Sam turned his head, taking in the pristine white of the cinder block room. "Like I've seen it in a...in a dream, or something."

We sucked each other's cocks in this room. Dean took a step back, using feigned curiosity as an excuse to break contact. He did a slow turn. "Not big on decorating, huh?"

Sam's chuckle sounded nervous. "You have any idea where we are?"

Dean licked his lips. "Sort of. Some in-between space. Dad said the demons can't find us here."

Sam pulled his head back, brows furrowing. "Wait - what? That was a lot, Dean! 'In-between space', 'Dad', and 'demons'? Care to enlighten me, here?"

Dean started pacing. He knew it was a tell, that Sam would figure out that he was going to be filtering and maybe even lying, but he couldn't help himself.

"Did you just lie to me, Dean? Are we both in Hell?"

Dean stopped immediately, facing his brother, hands out. "No! No, I swear! That's not it!" He sighed, looking for pockets to stuff his hands into, at a loss when he realized that the sweats had none. "It's just...Dad said…."

He glanced up.

Sam's bitch-face was firmly in place. Somehow Dean found reassurance in that predictable response.

"He said that...that you're….your soul…"

Sam shook his head, impatient with the inadequate explanation. "So, back up: Dad's in Heaven. How did he tell you anything at all?"

Dean relaxed, finally seeing the path this conversation could take. "He's an angel, Sam! He got me off the rack, healed me." He bit his lip, fighting the urge to start pacing again. Forced his hands to stay still at his sides. "He said that they sent him to get me out so I could...save you."

"Save me from what, exactly?" Sam had his arms folded over his chest. To Dean his little brother seemed to swell, bulging with malevolence.

Sammy?

"He...uh...He said...you've been hanging out with a demon."

"Yeah? So what if I have? You left me, Dean. Pulled me out of Heaven and then fucking left me. What did you expect me to do?"

"I expected you to get a fucking life! Go back to college, find a girl, get married! Not start fucking a goddamn demon, Sam!"

"I tried, Dean. I tried. But you wanna know something? I had that life, and I hated it."

Dean stared at him, a vague feeling of disquiet pooling in his chest. "What? What are you talking about?"

Sam took a step closer. "I was in Heaven, Dean. When I died. Did you know that?"

Dean shook his head, surprise rendering him mute.

"You said I was gone three days, but up there, time is different. I mean, every day is pretty much the same, your idea of perfection playing over and over again, so it's hard to keep track. Three weeks, three months, three years...I don't really know."

Now it was Sam's turn to pace. "I got to make it what I wanted it to be, Dean. So there was college, and Jess, and Mom and Dad." He stopped, facing his brother. "But there was no hunting. No threat of pain or death to make living something worth savoring." One long stride closed the distance between them until they were sharing one another's heat. "There was no you."

"Sam - "

"Shhh." The younger brother laid his palm over the elder's lips. "Let me finish."

Dean's eyes were as wide and trusting as a child's.

Sam smiled fondly at him, withdrawing his hand, curling his fingers against the echo of his brother's lips on his palm. "I didn't tell anyone, but I started getting bored. Started hating it."

Dean realized that he could taste his brother's breath. Close he's too close

Missed him. God, I've missed him.

"I was looking for a way out, Dean. And then...you saved me."

"Sammy," Dean's voice was choked. "D-Dad said...he s-said I have to s-save you. Again."

Sam's eyes roamed his brother's face. "Save me how? Save me from what?" He raked his fingernails along Dean's temple. "I'm here. You're here. This is my Heaven, Dean."

He's touching me why is he touching me

Feels so good

Dean swallowed, forcing a mix of emotions he didn't understand deeper into his core, just enough to free his vocal chords. "This is...we can't stay here, Sam. They won't let us." He took a step back, hoping to regain his equilibrium. "Dad said if you - if you d-die now, you'll go to Hell, Sammy." The thought of his brother suffering that fate straightened Dean's spine and blew cobwebs from his mind. "That can't - I can't let that happen to you, Sam. You gotta repent, man. You gotta - not sayin' you're gonna die, not any time soon, but someday you will, we all do, and you can't - you can't end up here, man." His voice broke, and he chose to ignore it. "You don't deserve this. I can't...I can't…" He shook his head. "All my life I tried to keep you from getting hurt, Sammy, and that's all there is down here. I can't see you hurt. I can't watch them do the things to you that they've done to me." He felt the tears on his face, didn't care if Sam saw. "Please, Sammy. Please ."

Sam's pupils were wide. A flush had crept up his neck into his cheeks. He had not removed his fingers from Dean's hair. "What, Dean? What do you want me to do?" He sidled closer, their bodies nearly touching.

Why's he so close?

Just want to hold him

My baby brother

Keep him close

Never let go

"I - I don't know. S-say you're sorry, I guess?" Dean needed room to think, wanted to draw back, but didn't know how. "I...Dad just said...said I had to… you have to repent. Didn't say what that means." The last words came out as a breath.

"And what happens if I don't?" His eyes were on Dean's mouth, fingertips running from his temple to the curve of his ear and back again.

"I...I'm supposed to...to make you." Without turning his head, Dean looked away, advertising his shame.

"Are you supposed to hurt me, Dean? Is that what Dad asked you to do?"

Now Dean did turn his head, breaking the contact between them.

Sam allowed his arm to drop to his side. "What am I supposed to be sorry for, Dean? Because that's what 'repentance' is: saying you're sorry. That you're wrong, and you'll never do it again. So: what is it that I'm supposed to repent, Dean?"

Dean's chin dropped. He avoided his brother's eyes. "Dad said...he said...you were killing people."

Sam shifted back enough to allow him to cross his arms over his chest. "Monsters, Dean. I killed monsters. The 'family business'."

Without looking, Dean could tell that his brother had tightened his jaw, that the ridges in his brow had made an appearance.

"'Saving people. Hunting things.' You remember that, don't you?"

Dean nodded mutely.

"So, not apologizing for that. Next?"

"You...you had s-sex...with a..with a demon."

"And you've had sex with half the waitresses from Minneapolis to Houston. Your point is?"

"They weren't demons, Sam."

"Neither was she, before one possessed her." Dean's posture didn't change, and Sam huffed out an irritated sigh. "Oh, for Christ's sake! It's not like I plan on marrying her! We're not hunting partners or anything! She's just a really, really good lay. Are you honestly going to stand there and tell me that you'd condemn me to Hell for that?"

Dean's eyes shot to his brother's, pleading. "No, Sam. It's not me! I'm not condemning you for anything!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Just Daddy's little messenger. His good boy. Is that it?"

Dean dropped his eyes, and Sam snorted.

"What else did dear old Dad say, Dean? C'mon, spit it out. What are my other unforgivable sins?"

Denial burned like a beacon, calling out to Dean to just stop now, leave it where it stood.

"He said you...you're d-drinking…" his voice faded to a whisper, "demon blood."

Sam chuckled and his posture relaxed. "Well, he's got good intel. I'll give him that." He reached forward, curling his fingers beneath his brother's chin. "Dean? Hey. Look at me, buddy. Look at me."

Fear and pain and love and hope lived in the reddened eyes that did Sam's bidding.

"I only did it to try to get to you. To get you out of this place."

For me. He's going to Hell because of me and for me.

Dean couldn't breathe.

I can't let him. I can't.

"Dad's gonna get me out, okay, Sammy? He and the angels, they are getting me out, and I'll be topside and whole, and we can...we can do whatever you want. We can hunt or you can go back to school and I'll go with you but I won't do school, I'll just… I'll get a regular job, like a mechanic or something, and I'll pay for your college, and we'll both get girlfriends and...and ride off into the freaking sunset together, okay? You and me: Butch and Sundance. Alright? And you won't need to drink that shit anymore, or - or kill anyone. And forget the demon snatch, we'll find you a - a stripper or something, someone with whatever skills you're looking for." His voice had taken on a panicked edge, and he had cupped his brother's chin in the webbing of his thumb, keeping their gazes locked. "Alright, Sammy? 'S that sound good? All ya gotta do is say you're sorry. Say you won't do that stuff no more. Can you do that, Sam? For me?"

His brother's chest-deep chuckle held a seductive note that Dean tried hard to ignore.

Once again, Sam stepped in, fingers of one overly large hand curling around the base of Dean's skull, thumb grating pleasantly over the stubble on Dean's cheek. "What about this, Dean?" His head dipped, lips nearly brushing his brother's as he breathed, "Can we have this topside? Because I really, really want this."

Dean pushed back into the warmth of his brother's palm. "Sam, no. It's...it's incest. It's wrong."

"Is it, big brother? Who else can get this close to you without you tensing up, feeling like you're under attack? Huh? All those women you've been with over the years, and did any one of them make you feel this safe?" He eased forward, slotting his knee between Dean's thighs. "This loved?"

An abrupt change of scenery had Dean standing in front of his father just in time to receive a backhand blow to the face that sent him crashing into the rack.

John followed, and his hand on Dean's throat forced his son's head up, a clear target for John's wrath.

"What the hell was that, Dean? You're supposed to cleanse his soul, not fuckin' soil your own!"

He pulled Dean forward only to slam him back again before turning away, disgusted. He flicked his wrist and Dean was back on the rack, eyes wide with panic. His frantic "No! Dad!" carried the frost of betrayal.

"Calm down, Dean! It's just so you can see what you're working with. What your brother has become. Just take a deep breath and watch, and then maybe you'll understand what you need to be doing here."

Once more he pressed fingertips to Dean's forehead, and the younger man's eyes glazed over as the scenes from his brother's life began to unfold, filling his mind even as they drained his soul.