Okay everyone, so I'm so very sorry it's taken me this long to update this story – I was overseas for a couple of weeks and I've just been super busy with a new internship and school. I wanted to give you guys something to read, let me know if you see anything that needs fixing. I'll be updating this and other stories soon. Hope you like it!

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Chuck groaned and rubbed two fists over his eyes as he stared into the cold, dark space of his bedroom. "Really, guys?" He shifted his head on the pillow and stared up at the blank ceiling as his mind vividly and unrelentingly played back his last vision. He was happy in a way for Sam and Dean, or as happy as someone could be for two people who had to resort to such a dysfunctional relationship because they were so royally boned by the universe, but his life would be so much easier if they weren't sleeping together. And then there were times, like now, that it was going to especially cause him trouble.

He lingered in his bed for a few minutes, then let out a long-suffering sigh and slowly dragged himself and a bottle of whiskey downstairs to his work desk. Running straight to his computer after a prophesy to prevent future graphic repeats of it had become commonplace since after he'd had his first sex dream about Sam and Dean in early September. Over the past five months, he'd seen the two of them have sex in almost every position imaginable and, while nothing could cleanse his brain of those images, writing it down right away while drinking a fifth of whiskey helped at least a little.

He took a swig from his bottle, sat in front of the blank screen of his computer and wondered what in the fuck he was going to do. Normally, he could cut out most of the stuff that made his books unpublishable – that is, full of incest – with minimal sexual subtext lingering between the brothers. Like he'd told the guys earlier, sometimes it took a massive amount of editing – leaving out exchanged meaningful stares, deleting pieces of conversations, cutting parts of scenes or even whole scenes entirely – and at times it had made the remaining parts awkward, unbalanced, or a little too short, but it was a small price to pay to keep his remaining fan base. But, as he thought about his latest vision, he realized that one scene was going to cause him some serious trouble, even with his normal editing approach. He couldn't just cut it; the scene was integral to the storyline, as it had important character development for Dean. It wouldn't work to just cut out the sexual content, either or none of the scene would make any sense. It was possible that even the rest of the story wouldn't make quite as much sense without it.

He opened up the heavily edited official transcript and began to type that out first. He began with the opening scene between the first two victims, Alice and Russell, finishing it with the detail about how Alice's intestines felt hot and chewy inside Russell's mouth, then moved on to Sam questioning Alice's roommate about what she'd seen. But then Sam came back to his and Dean's motel room and Chuck was stuck. As he'd already established, he obviously couldn't cut it, but there was also no way in hell that he could keep it as-is.

Well…maybe he could just…change the scene a little. Not much, but just enough to be able to omit the things he needed to. As he hit the first keystroke to the new scene, he felt himself break out into a little sweat. He'd never actually changed one of the scenes before. Omitting he was pretty good at, but…actually changing it? It felt odd for him to realize that he'd eeked out a small living as a fiction writer and yet, he was considering, for the first time in his life, actually writing fiction. And then it occurred to him that there were reasons, other than his fan base and lack of talent, why he shouldn't change it. He'd been given these visions for a reason; after all, he was writing the fucking Winchester Gospel, the holy testament that would one day be a part of the Bible, or some other equally holy book. It was one thing to omit some…controversial details, but this? On the other hand, he also probably shouldn't be writing gay incestuous sex into the Bible. It wouldn't be the first time incestuous sex was written in it, but knowing that didn't make him feel much better. After all, Sam and Dean were supposed to be heroes and, soulmates or not, how many people would still sympathize with them if they knew what they did? And if he wrote in this scene as-is, he was going to have a lot of explaining to do about their relationship.

He stared at the screen as he found himself waffling back and forth between wanting to alter the scene and feeling like he needed to finally come out and tell the full story of what had been going on between the Winchester brothers behind closed doors. As he considered his options, Chuck's thoughts went back once again to his fans. God, if he ever got to start publishing again…A Tale of Two Incestuous Brothers, written by Carver Edlund. He cringed. Other people had changed the Bible over the past several millennia…Technically, the current Bible was only 66 books because two thousand years ago, some monk decided to throw out the unpopular books and only keep the ones he liked in his translations. This wasn't a whole lot different than that, maybe even better… That guy threw out whole books, that paled in comparison to changing one little scene. He nodded to himself confidently. Yeah, of course it did.

He wrote out the newly constructed scene quickly; Sam, being Dean's brother and not his significant other, volunteered to stay in their room and do some work while Dean went out to a bar on Valentine's Day to get laid. That sounded like something Sam would do; Sam didn't really do casual sex, so he wouldn't want to go out himself. And because Chuck still had that "Unleash the Kraken!" Clash of the Titans movie quote in his head, thanks to Dean, who had repeated it ad nauseam since Christmas, he found himself including it in something Sam said when he encouraged Dean to go out. But Dean decided he didn't want to go out and get laid, making Sam concerned over Dean's passing on casual sex. He kept in as many original lines as he could and then finished the scene with Sam eyeing Dean up with concern and not any other kind of emotion. He read it over once, fixed a few awkwardly written phrases, then saved the document and minimized the window so he could start going through his complex list of files to the other version, the one that Dean had once sarcastically called "The Wincester Gospel." Really, Chuck didn't relish this thing's existence any more than Sam or Dean did, but he wrote in it just so the disturbing sexual images wouldn't come back and he could get a peaceful night's sleep. He took several more deep swigs of whiskey in preparation of writing the motel scene as he'd originally seen it. As he started to type, he began the scene with, "As Sam walked into his and Dean's motel room with a bag of fast food in hand…"

.

As Sam walked into his and Dean's motel room with a bag of fast food in hand, Dean was sitting at their small table in front of the laptop with his feet up. There was an open but untouched bottle of beer sitting beside him and he appeared bored and tired, the exact opposite of how Dean usually looked at the beginning of a case. Sam hunched his shoulders a little as he realized that his brother was in another one of his withdrawn moods. This was very odd; even when they were going through a lot of shit, Dean usually saved his moodiness for at least the middle of the hunt. He began talking to Dean about the case, hoping it might lift his spirits a little, but it quickly became clear that it wasn't going to help.

Dean looked thoroughly disgusted as he relayed to Sam what he'd seen at the coroner's office. "I mean, their stomachs were full, like Thanksgiving Dinner full." He grabbed his beer, slowly brought it to his mouth, and took a swig. "Talk about co-dependent."

Sam smiled a little as he thought about that doc at the mental institution calling his and Dean's relationship "dangerously co-dependent." God, if that guy had had any idea just how wrapped up in each other they really were… but if Dean was thinking about anything that'd happened back there, it couldn't be a good sign. A lot of heavy-hitting stuff had happened at that place, and Dean still wouldn't talk about what he'd experienced when they were there. With the shell-shocked expression that had washed over Dean the one and only time Sam had even tried to broach the subject, Sam was sure of at least two things: whatever Dean had experienced inside his own head was horrifyingly traumatic and, even if they lived a thousand years, his brother would never talk about it.

Sam ran a hand down his tie and sat opposite of Dean, contemplating his next move. He should do something to help pull Dean out of his slump, but he wasn't in the best place himself at the moment, either; he was feeling a little angry and aggressive from some unexpectedly strong demon blood cravings he'd been having since the second they'd hit town. They were stronger than anything he'd ever experienced since the height of his addiction when he was getting it regularly from Ruby and, as a result, he'd been walking around all day wanting to either punch or fuck everything and everybody who'd gotten in his way. Somehow, he needed to help his cravings and at the same time drag Dean out of his current mood and, fortunately, he had a pretty good idea of how to do it.

"Well, we've got our feelers out, not much more we can do tonight." He turned the laptop around and pulled it towards him. "Alright, I'm just gonna go through some files and then, since we're going out tonight, I'll grab a shower and get ready. What were you thinking? Strip bar?"

Dean eyed him up with a confused expression. "Wait, why are we going out?"

"No special reason really, but it's Valentine's Day, you usually go out, and…I don't know, thought it might be nice, thought you might want to."

Dean frowned. "Oh. Ah, yeah, well…" he got up from his chair, walked over to their cooler sitting on a nearby counter, threw open the lid, and grabbed a beer. "I don't know, guess I'm not feeling it this year."

"So, you're not into drinking and ogling half-naked women?"

Dean stopped to think about it. "Nah, I guess not."

"Huh. Well, okay. You just wanna skip straight to the sex?"

Dean put down his beer and gave a quick shrug of his shoulders, looking like a bored kid who didn't know what to do with his afternoon. "Nah, think I'll pass tonight. I'm feeling kind of tired." Sam's eyes widened and he blinked in surprise. It wasn't that Dean was turning down sex, but the way he was doing it; he actually looked bored over the idea of it. Dean returned a hard glare at Sam's wide-eyed astonishment. "What?"

"You don't want to have sex?"

"No."

"Like, at all?"

"Something wrong with that?"

"No, I guess…actually yes."

"What?"

"It's when a dog doesn't eat, that's when you know something's really wrong."

"Remarkably patronizing concern duly noted. Nothing's wrong, I'm not allowed one night to be tired and not in the mood?"

Sam squinted at him. "You're not in the mood?"

"Is there an echo in here? Come on, we gonna work or what?"

Sam quickly looked back down at the laptop screen, which at the moment was turned to a crime scene photo of the two vics. The camera angle showed a full view of Alice's face. He'd seen pictures of her, but the girl in the photo was almost unrecognizable; her nose was nothing more than a bloody, bitten-off stump, and she no longer had cheeks. And there were other parts of her missing too. He couldn't see the man's face, but what he could see wasn't pretty. Sam looked away from the screen and back up at Dean. He was really hoping Dean was going to say 'yes,' especially since he needed it so bad at the moment. He was still able to control the cravings and hide them from Dean, but sex would make doing that a lot easier. Dean was resolutely staring at the case file in front of him with an annoyed look on his face as every few seconds he glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam looked down to the photo. This picture was grizzly and terrible, why was even the sight of blood making him horny? Holy mother of God, he was sick. If only he could get laid, he was sure that the physical release would make him feel better. He could just go to the bathroom and try to jerk off, but that wasn't nearly as good and it wouldn't help for long. He wanted one of them to take it hard and punishing, and he didn't much care which one of them it was. Obviously, he loved to top and be in control, but with Dean's surly mood, there was no way he was going to get Dean to agree to bottom. That was fine though, Dean could fuck him, as long as he did it good and hard. He wanted to really feel it – Dean's hip bones slapping his ass with every hard thrust and fingers leaving bruises on his hips from being held in place as Dean took him, the sheer adrenaline from the mix of pleasure and pain bringing him quickly over the edge… it seemed unwise to push, but maybe he'd think of something later. It usually wasn't hard to convince Dean to have sex.

"Sam, for the last time, I'm fine! Would you stop looking at me and do some fucking work already?"

Sam quickly shifted his eyes back to the laptop. "Yeah, fine."

Later that night, as Sam lay in bed next to Dean, the thirst for demon blood clawing at his throat and his body bow-tight from the effort he had to make to not go mad and run out into the night to hunt down a demon to drink, he looked over at Dean's sleeping form and felt resentful. Dean's face looked completely untroubled and uninterested in anyone else's problems. Normally, the oddness of that look on Dean would make Sam smile, but not tonight. He needed Dean right now and so damn much that his brother could probably never fully understand the depths of it. Making a split second decision, Sam crawled under the covers, deftly unzipped Dean's jeans, reached inside his boxers, took his still soft cock out and gently began suckling the tip. Okay, so Sam was going to admit that it was a little underhanded, but he was pretty sure Dean would appreciate it. After all, what guy wouldn't like to be woken up to getting a blowjob? He'd happily let Dean do it to him any day of the year.

After about thirty seconds when he was finally semi-hard, he heard Dean's sleepy, deep, groggy voice. "Hm-mm-wha? Sam? What're you doing?" In answer, Sam merely hummed a little around the hardening cock-head, but Dean's response was a bit different than he'd envisioned. He sighed deeply and turned the covers down to look at Sam's face. "Sam, I told you, I'm not in the mood. Get offa me."

Sam took his mouth off of Dean and looked at him, feeling wounded. "You don't like it?"

"Well, it feels good, if that's what you mean. But, look, I just don't want to, okay? Not now. I just want to sleep."

Dean lay his head firmly back on his pillow, looking more old and weary than actually tired. Sam felt disconcerted and a little concerned, much like he had earlier over Dean's passing on both a strip club and sex, but he also felt himself being filled with rage that was so strong and irrational that he knew it had to be caused by little more than his demon blood craving. He tried, poorly, to control it.

"Fine," he snapped. He threw the rest of the covers off of him, got up, and walked to the bathroom to jack off, hearing the swooshing of fabric from behind him as Dean stayed in the bed and pulled back up his pants. Five minutes later, Sam came back out of the bathroom and got into bed again with Dean, only feeling a slight edge taken off of his need. If things stayed like this, he was going to have to jack off first thing in the morning too, just to be able to stay civil with other human beings. From the other side of the bed, he heard Dean sigh as he pretended to be asleep and Sam knew that he'd have to jack off first thing in the morning because, for whatever reason, his own hand was the only thing he was going to be getting for a little while.