Legalities, as always Sam and Dean and all things Supernatural do not belong to me. They are the property of the CW and Kripke Enterprises. I wish they would share, but I don't think that is going to happen so I guess I will simply play in their sandbox for a bit.

Rating HARD MA: For language, grievously injured Dean and angsty/worried Sam throughout the story. There will also be M/M pairing in the AU style. They are not brothers in this story, but college roommates and then a loving couple in later years.

If you don't like/read this type of thing, then do not read this story I am sure there are ones that would be more pleasing to you. I cannot stress this enough.

Author's Note: I had taken a break from this story and several others, as I needed to refuel the driving force behind them. My goal is to finish all my unfinished stories, so if you are waiting for one, I promise that it is on my list and I am working toward each of their completion.

Also, DO NOT READ if you do NOT read SLASH! If you read my other stories, and this is not your thing, STOP HERE. I will always clearly label any SLASH story as such. This is SLASH.

It also alludes to non-con rape of the M/M variety. You have been warned.

Previous chapter –

Sam carried Adam down the quiet hallways of the ICU ward. He'd had to get special permission to bring the child onto the floor. But somehow he knew that Dean needed to know that they were there waiting for him. Sam needed the other man to know that both he and Adam would fight for him. He wasn't alone.

He didn't know where the knowledge came from, but Sam knew that there was something wrong before he rounded the corner to Dean's room. The moan that emanated from that room was something that Sam will remember for the rest of his life. He quickened his step and gently shifted Adam to his other arm. Sam swallowed the fear that hid risen up inside him.

The small boy in his arms must have sensed the change in him, because he lifted bright blue eyes to Sam's. "Is Dean okay?" He asked in a small voice.

He wanted to reassure the child. Hell, he wanted to reassure himself, but Sam was all out of reassurances at the moment. Instead he stepped into Dean's room and his heart sunk at the sweat soaked blankets covering his lover's body. The soft cast covering his right arm was hanging just above his chest and his other hand was gripping the rail unconsciously. But it was the moan that had just escaped into the room as Dean's eyes rolled back and forth beneath his clenched eyelids.

Sam didn't know what haunted Dean's dreams. Christ knows he had enough monsters in his past to rip him apart from the inside out. Before he could get lost in the emotional upheaval of his current situation, Adam reached up and grabbed his face. "Set me down."

Never in his life had Sam been ordered to do something by a child. But the very adult tone and sincere eyes did what his judgment couldn't…it listened. He set the child down on the bed, careful of the IV running into Dean's left hand. The blankets were sweat soaked and hugging Dean's thin frame. Adam looked at the man that he'd connected so fully with after only a few visits. His small hand reaching out and brushing along Dean's arm. His lift his worried gaze to Sam and swallowed before looking back at Dean.

"It's okay. The monsters aren't real." He was so quiet when he said it that Sam leaned in to hear carefully. "The monsters aren't real." The little boy repeated the sane over and over again. Dean thrashed one more time and then he seemed to settle under the soft words of the child.

Sam watched and a lump rose in his throat at the effect Adam was having on the fevered delusions that were claiming Dean's mind.

He ran his fingers through Dean's blonde hair and nearly recoiled when he felt the heat rolling off him. "Adam, can you stay with Dean while I go get a doctor to take a look at him?"

Adam nodded eagerly, never removing his hand from Dean's arm. Sam hurried from the room. The boy looked over at the man in the bed. He continued to gently pat the doctor's arm. He was trying to soothe him, but he didn't know if it would make Dean feel better. It always made Adam feel better when someone patted his arm.

For a long time he didn't want anyone to touch him. It hurt too much when people touched him. But then Adam had met the nice lady at the orphanage and then he'd met Dean and Sam. For the first time he began to believe that he could have a family. That maybe he hadn't been a bad kid. That his daddy had just been a really bad daddy…a monster.

"The monsters aren't real." He said one last time.

There was a twitch to Dean's face and then his eyelids fluttered and he opened his good eye. The green gaze landed on Adam and his eyebrow lifted in a slight question before he blinked once and drifted back into a blissfully dreamless state.

End of previous chapter-

Chapter Twenty-four

Prisoners of Emotion

The table was beautiful. The white satin tablecloth spread across the deep mahogany wood in a perfect imitation of freshly fallen snow. The shimmery fabric was simply pristine in it's perfection. Ornate crystal goblets glimmered in the flickering candlelight, each on shining like tiny stars and throwing prisms of colored light across the fine bone china. Perfect white roses floated in lead crystal bowls, bright orange goldfish lazily swimming beneath. The entire scene looked like something out of a fairytale, a bit on the romantic side…but certainly worth appreciating.

It might have been the most amazing thing that Dean had ever seen. He reached out running his fingers over the silky cloth, even if it was only to convince himself that the whole scene was real. His sparkling green eyes flickered over to the food and he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his handsome face. Because it wasn't some fancy French creation that he couldn't identify, no, the food was completely and totally his type of thing. Sitting on a bed of crisp golden French fries was a tantalizing burger, heavy on the onions with two beef patties, along with a plate of sizzling onions rings. The meal was just waiting to be devoured.

He inhaled deeply as the smell wafted through the air before settling in the most sumptuous way. The whole homey scene was one that reminded him how much the man that had made all this, loved him. His chest tightened, a lump of gathering emotions threatening to choke him, as he stared. Life had not been easy for him and he was grateful beyond words that Sam Weston had come into it.

For the first time in his life, Dean Winchester felt as though someone believed in him; supported him. Aside from his sister, no one had ever given him that and it was like a drug; he craved it. His life could have turned out so much different. He'd like to think that he would have applied to med school without Sam's support. But if he was really honest with himself, he wasn't so sure that that was the truth.

Setting his briefcase down on the sofa table, he turned back toward the dining room, "Sam?" he called softly before kicking off his shoes and stepping quietly toward the kitchen.

The setting sun glared off the spotless stainless steel appliances, casting shadows in long lonely lines across the travertine tiles. "Baby?" Nothing. There was no response and there was definitely no "Sammy" hiding among the immaculately clean counters.

Dean's voice bounced around inside their enormous house like a Ping-Pong ball when he turned and called out again. Silence was his only answer…

The small voice, the one that sound suspiciously like his fathers, started whispering. "Little Sammy finally figure it out, Dean?" It was like the hatred was coming from everywhere…and nowhere all at the same time. There was nowhere for Dean to hide from the cruelty of the words. "He finally understands that you're not worth the effort."

The words hurt. They always hurt. Dean tried his best to ignore that destructive voice, but there was no way for him to un-hear what had just been said and soon he found his eyelids to drooping shut. The pain building slowly in a way he didn't completely understand. It began snaking through his entire body, searching out those warm little places that were reserved only for Sam, wrapping them in ice and loneliness.

His muscles trembled and he slowly sank to his knees, shoulder bowed under the onslaught of self-hatred. Dean was so tired; too tired to fight his inner demons, the ones were threatening to undo all the good that Sam had done over the years. His father's words unknotting the tightly wound ropes of love and affection that the lawyer had wrapped Dean in.

Sammy might not be able to save him from his worst enemy, himself.

"That's not true." Dean attempted to deny. After a moment, he collected himself, lifting his head before rising to his feet and turning toward the long ornate staircase. The rich warmth of the ornately carved wooden banister stretched toward up the second level of their home like a beacon of light, guiding lost souls home; it loomed before him. His gaze flickered up to the top of the stairs. There was a dim glow emanating from the door that led to his and Sam's bedroom. It was a place of sanctuary, for them both.

'So why does it feel so wrong to go to him?' he wondered silently.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat before slowly making his way up the stairs. His stocking clad feet made no sounds as he stepped from riser to riser. His fingers drifting along the smooth wood absently, but his green eyes were trained on that door…

Something inside him begged him to turn around. To never open that door, because if he did, he may not recover. He inhaled, allowing the spicy scent of Sam's cologne to wash over him, filling the cracks and gaping holes inside his heart. The lanky lawyer was everything to him.

His fingers ghosted over the burnished silver handle, but he didn't immediately open the door. An irrational fear held him back and he blinked in surprise. Something had happened recently; something that was trying to force itself to the forefront of his thoughts, even as his mind tried to protect him from it. Dean scrubbed his hand down his face absently. He had no idea what he wasn't remembering, but his heart was screaming that if he opened that door it could destroy him. Yet his head was calmly stating that that was ridiculous. This was his and Sammy's sanctuary, what could possibly destroy that?

In the end it was Dean's head that won out and he pushed the heavy door inward. Slowly he stepped into the brightly lit room, the large four-poster bed taking up the majority of the space. The rhythmic rise and fall of a body breathing beneath the duvet had Dean swallowing thickly. He wasn't close enough to make out Sam's mop of brunette hair and yet he could think of no one else that would be peacefully sleeping in their bed.

Gathering his courage and ignoring the nagging voice inside his head, Dean crept forward seeking comfort in the arms of the man he loved beyond measure. Without thinking he reached over and clicked the lamp off before unbuckling his belt and allowing his slacks to slip down his lean legs. They landed in a puddle of expensive fabric on the hardwood floor, he stepped out and quickly shed his shirt before pulling back the covers to slip inside.

The body moaned pleasantly next to him and he smiled knowingly as he allowed his fingers to caress the soft skin and the hard plains of muscle. Dean could feel his own body responding and he shimmied closer, wrapping his leg over the hips of the other man. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Sammy hadn't worn a stitch of clothing to bed that night.

Deep in the back of his mind small facts presented themselves. Sam didn't sleep in the nude, not as a rule. The skin along the shoulder and ribcage was puckered and rough, like burned flesh…Sam was smooth and soft. No scars marring the perfection of his flesh. But the realizations were buried under the weight of want and need; Dean never stopped to consider the small facts, he simply relished the physical presence of the other man.

Within minutes the grasping needy fingers of the two men had brought them into a frenzied, fever pitch of erotic excitement and that was when the illusions shattered.

The overhead lights flicked on and Dean's throaty gasps turned into frantic pleas when he recognized the figure standing in the doorway.

Sam never said a word, but the devastation and betrayal shining out of his almond shaped eyes shredded Dean's heart. He didn't have to look over. He knew who was in the bed next to him. Brandon's fingers plucked at the blonde's sweaty hair in a possessive manner that left nothing to the imagination.

Dean's tortured gaze remained on Sam even when Brandon leaned in, pressing his lips against the other man's ear. "I told you were mine, Dean. You always were."

And with that Sam simply turned and walked out.

The crack of Dean's heart had to have been heard across the entire state. Hell, the country. Because never had a heart broken as thoroughly as his did when Sam simply kept walking. "Sammy…please…" he begged softly.

…and the dream reset…the pain of discover forgotten, the knowledge of what was to come hidden and Dean smiled as he walked into the home he and Sam shared…

XXXX

Sam stared out the window at the driving rain. The weather seemed to be a clear reflection of his anger and the violence he was still struggling to control. He'd never felt emotions on this level, not when his mother had died, not even when he'd thought he'd lost Dean after the accident. It was like someone had poured liquid darkness into his soul, tainting the kindness and joy he'd carried naturally since childhood. But Brandon had taken that from him. The bastard had buried the best parts of Sam inside that despicable room where Dean had been kept…and raped, repeatedly…and tortured…and… 'SHUT UP!' he screamed to his wandering mind.

He wasn't under any illusions as to what had been done to Dean while his sadistic kidnapper had held him and Sam certainly didn't need his own imagination throwing those images at him. It almost seemed like some tragic cosmic joke, one that wasn't at all funny, in Sam's opinion. Everything that his lover had been through in his life had led them to this moment. And it wasn't fair, God-dammit! Dean hadn't deserved any of it. Not the disgusting, twisted things his father had done and certainly not the sordid destructive things that Brandon had done.

His blue-green gaze drifted back toward the bed, he sighed. The man lying in that bed had devoted his life to saving children. Children! For fucks sake…his eyes lifted skyward, he deserves a break! No bright light broke up the darkness of the hospital room. Dean didn't suddenly jump from the bed, his eyes bright and his heart whole. There was no epiphany of understanding or anything else that could be effectively called a miracle. Sam's shoulders slumped and he stepped away from the violence of the storm near the window, retreating further into the room and nearer to the silent figure in the bed.

Adam had gone to stay with Anna and Castiel, leaving the lawyer to the not so tender mercies of his bitter rage and paralyzing fear. He was grateful beyond words for the amazing woman that Dean's sister had grown into, not to mention the man that she'd chosen to be her husband. A tiny part of him conceded that in this one thing God had done something right. At least he'd given Dean a taste of love.

He debated on whether he should sit in the chair or if he could get away with slipping onto the narrow bed with the other man. In the end it was their combined sizes that made the decision. Neither of them small men, so the chances of both six foot plus frames' fitting on the ridiculously tiny hospital bed wasn't good. Sam pressed his lips together, allowing the agitation to show easily as he reached over and pulled the chair closer before dropping into it.

Time inched along and Sam soon found his eyelids drifting shut against his will. He'd settled his long legs onto the edge of the bed, crossing them at the ankles in an effort to get a little more comfortable. His slender fingers were clasped together so as to give the illusion that he was praying, rest assured, he was not. But the stresses of the last few months along with the lack of a proper night's sleep in more than a week finally demanded payment. His body shut down and he drifted into oblivion.

The next he knew ragged gasps and pained moans hauled him back toward awareness. Sam's heart recognized what his mind could not immediately place and he surged up, alert and ready for anything. But there wasn't a physical threat for him to attack; another moan had him dropping his gaze to Dean.

Sam was met with wide, unseeing green eyes. Shiny tracks ran from the corners of those pictures of grief and anguish, Dean didn't usually cry. As a matter of fact in the years that Sam had known him he'd only ever seen the doctor cry a handful of times. He leaned closer, "Dean?" it was a whisper and a plea all in the same word.

As he continued to stare at the fixed gaze that Dean wasn't seeing him. He wasn't seeing the hospital room. He was stuck in some sort of pain loop inside his own hellish mind. The muscles along his neck were clenching, buckling under the internal strains Dean's body was placing on them. The pale skin stretched, pulling across his Adam's apple and outlining the thick carotid artery in a sick parody of healthy tissue.

Sam's fingers ached to touch his lover. To offer what little support he could, but he found his seemed to be frozen. It wasn't that he didn't want reach out and take the bruised left hand into his, but he was terrified of causing Dean more pain.

"Sammy….plse…" The desperation and loss in Dean's voice instantly changed his mind and grabbed frantically at the other man's uninjured hand.

"I'm here, Dean."

Agonized, unfocused emerald green eyes shifted in his direction and Sam's breath caught in his throat at the sheer magnitude of love he saw shining through. "Sam." His name floated past the tight, thin lips, almost sounding like a prayer. And Dean's strained expression softened into the first peaceful lines that Sam had witnessed since before the bombing at the hospital.

Emotions that he couldn't have named if he'd had a lifetime to consider them built into a thick lump choking off his words. A burning ache just behind his eyes, one that he was all too familiar with, finally released in a stream of tears that he wouldn't have stopped for all the world. He'd seen a small glimpse of the Dean he'd fallen in love with, which meant that Brandon hadn't completely destroyed the man beneath the pain. There was still a chance that his beautiful Dean could be saved. And at the moment that was more than the tearful young lawyer had believed possible when he'd found the broken, bleeding mess that was his greatest love.

Shaking fingers reached absently for the soft blonde hair and he carefully slipped them into the thick mass. He didn't know what he'd expected, if he'd been convinced to reflect on it later, Sam would probably say that he'd expected the other man to shy away from physical touch. But his heart sang with joy when Dean didn't do that. He hummed in his sleep and turned his face toward Sam's caress, the tiniest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his chapped lips.

The rational part of his brain knew that they were far from okay. That Dean was so far from okay that it was terrifying, but this one action proved that he wasn't completely lost to those who loved him. It wouldn't be easy and there was little doubt in his mind that it would be pleasant and yet Sam knew that he would fight all the hounds of hell and the sadistic demons that would now claw their way out of the blonde's perfect memories if it meant saving him from his past.

Without any warning the smile slipped away and Dean's face screwed up in a mirror image of earlier. Pain, loss, and devastation lined the contours of his face. Sam gulped back his shock at the sudden shift in Dean.

"Sammy…please…" Pain. Anguish. Heart-wrenching loss. Guilt. Shame. Fear. And a million other negative emotions were woven into those two words and Sam's heart broke.

He gently tightened his grip as Dean weakly tried to pull his hand from the warm embrace of Sam's fingers. "No, Dean. I'm not going anywhere and I'm not going to let you go. We're going to fight this and we're going to win. Because—" tears choked off his words and he had to gather himself together before he could continue. "—I can't lose you Dean. I won't."

The more he talked the calmer Dean became. So he kept talking, whispering, murmuring the words of love and devotion that he'd felt since the moment he'd seen the handsome soldier stalking toward him in a deserted library.

XXXX

It was early, too early and he'd rather be in bed, but he had to know. How much damage had he done? Had his plan worked? Was Dean beyond redemption…beyond help? Brandon couldn't stop the wry smile that split his once handsome face into a sick imitation of what it had once been. A nurse walked briskly down the long hallway just ahead of him, he pulled the ballcap lower, hiding his face from the distracted eyes of the woman. He'd slipped past the posted security easily enough and finding out which floor Dean was on had only taken him a few minutes of listening.

The admissions nurse had been whispering to her co-worker about the tragic figure on the sixth floor. A man that had barely survived a horrific kidnapping. Satisfaction blossomed in his chest as he thought of what he'd done to Dean. He'd earned every one of those crushing blows, not to mention the fact that he'd owed the man something for shattering his heart by refusing what Brandon had demanded.

You're mine, Dean. Now everyone else knows that too. He schooled his expression before turning up the long hall toward the elevators and the sixth floor.

TBC…

Author's Note: My goal is NOT to leave you all hanging on this ledge for long (like months…cuz that would be a bit cruel). I'm already working on the next chapter and don't worry…Sammy's gonna get his shot at Brandon. I know it's been a while since I posted on this one…I hope you're all still out there? It sure would be great if you could review and let me know if you are?

I would love a review for this…maybe…please…