Powerless

Chapter Four

Four-weeks later:

"Was what it said true?"

He paused, the beer bottle that had almost been to his lips stopping at the question. The voice came softly from behind a half closed motel bathroom door and Dean looked up at it. With a soft sigh, he simply placed the bottle on the scarred table and knew the time that he'd been waiting weeks for had finally come.

Calling Bobby Singer got him the name and address of a small clinic Bobby knew the doctor of and felt it would be safe for what the boys needed. Though the grumpy older hunter had to pull what details he got out of Dean, he was a smart man.

By the time they'd reached the small clinic in Tennessee, Sam had spiked a fever and started hallucinating. Something that had his older brother freaking out a lot more than Dean would ever willingly admit to anyone.

Relieved that Bobby had called ahead to tell his friend about his soon to be new patient and the details as he knew them. Dean was just glad the older man had treated hunters before and didn't ask him any other questions other than Sam's past medical history and medications all of which were things the hunter could rattle off in his sleep.

He had objected when he was told he couldn't stay with Sam during treatment, but gave up that fight when a stern faced older nurse stared him down. He sighed and went to stalk the small waiting room, returning the many voicemails Bobby had been leaving him.

Dean had been drifting, fighting sleep, and planning several different scenarios in his head depending on how things went between them once he and Sam were out of the clinic. He planned to follow Bobby's shouted orders to 'get their asses to his place' to let things settle down and have Sam start to heal before they had to tackle the next Apocalypse mess.

"Sam said I could tell you the details of his case," the doctor said from the door. The grim set of his jaw told the hunter the news probably wouldn't be good.

Based on what he'd walked in on, Dean knew his brother had been sexually assaulted by the shapeshifter, but he hadn't known how many times or to the degree. He had assumed the damn fucking machine had been used and as he was told about the severe tearing in Sam's anal cavity, he had to bite his tongue to keep from snarling too much.

He stoically listened to the doctor explain about the mild concussion, broken ribs, burns around the base of Sam's cock, and tears inside his colon. He went on about the various wraps, ointment, medications and treatments they would be doing. Dean nodded as the standard lectures were given, holding his breath as the blood results were given, showing that Sam's tox screen had come back mostly clean meant the drugs were nearly out of his brother's system.

Dean paid the frowning nurse to not remove him from the hospital after his fist had gone through the wall. He was grateful that part of the rape kit showed Sam free of any STDs because while he knew what had happened, the older brother in him didn't want to think of that goddamn shifter giving his brother more than nightmares.

It had been Sam that had made the decision to release himself AMA against both Dean and the doctor's wishes. He had resorted to using his ultimate secret weapon, causing his brother to relent. A few hours later they were on the road to South Dakota.

"I hate that I taught you the use of those goddamn sad eyes, Sam," Dean had complained but then simply let Sam use his shoulder for a pillow for the rest of the trip.

The physical wounds were bad, but it was the mental and emotional ones that Sam had a harder time handling. He'd always been prone to nightmares but these seemed worse; especially the ones where he couldn't wake up or was confused when he did and started screaming when Dean would try to touch him to help him.

Sometimes, Dean would end up bleeding from a wild fist to the face and it usually resulted in Sam withdrawing more into himself. Sam would be quiet, pensive, as if he were trying not to ask his brother about the things the shifter had said or that he might have heard Dean say.

"You need to either talk to that boy or get him to open up about what happened, or else neither of you will be safe to hunt or be on the road again. He's a walking red light for angst and guilt to be used by those goddamn featherheads and the other side," Bobby Singer said one morning when Dean came into the kitchen after a bad night. The ordeal hadn't been helped by a trench coat wearing angel visiting and reminding Dean the apocalypse was still at large. The constant calls on Sam's phone from a demon made Dean vow to stab her until finally Sam had broken his phone, put his fist through a glass window of an old car out in the lot, and used his brother's back for a punching bag as Dean grabbed him and held on tight. Sam fought and cried, lashing out with all of his bottled up emotions; not only from the shifter's attack, but from the night Dean was first dragged to Hell and Sam's life literally blew up.

"I know what happened to him, and forcing Sammy to talk doesn't usually turn out well," Dean replied tightly, grimacing at the coffee while keeping an ear out for sounds from upstairs. "I also know what he's brooding about but he's scared to broach either of those things while we're here. He probably figures I'll blow up on him about the one and you about the other, so I figure once we're back on the road, once he sees I'm not dumping him, going to hurt him, he'll start to talk. He probably thinks I'm gonna blame him for wasting time or whatever..."

As it turned out, it was another week and a half before that bridge was crossed and as Dean lowered the bottle of beer back to the table, he wasn't sure to be relieved or terrified.

"Which part?" Dean returned, glancing towards the half open bathroom door and giving a small grin at the soft breath of frustration he heard. He could visualize Sam leaning on the small bathroom sink, in probably just a towel, since he knew his brother had gone in to take a shower after their salt and burn had ended with Sam getting thrown by a pissed off ghost before Dean had lit her bones.

"Either. Any. All of it," Sam replied, staring at his reflection and wondering if he looked as pale as he thought he did.

"Do you remember hearing anything I said to the bastard toward the end, Sammy?" Dean asked calmly, keeping his tone light since he could tell by how soft Sam's voice was that he brother was battling doubts and nerves. He knew by the sidelong glances in the car lately that Sam was also about at the end of his rope waiting for whatever shoe he feared would drop.

Sam did actually have a lot of memory around hearing his brother in that place, more than he had let on to either the staff at the clinic or to Bobby. He thought he'd heard Dean admit to the shifter that the memories it had scanned from him had been true, but still a huge piece of Sam feared that he'd misheard or had just imagined it to keep himself sane during that horror.

"Y-yeah, I… I think I do," he murmured, glancing down at the still faint marks on his wrists from where he'd fought in the ropes.

"But you need to hear me say those words to you." Dean let out a soft grunt that Sam knew could mean anything. Hearing the chair by the table had been pushed back, Sam nearly panicked. He didn't want to start a fight with Dean or have his brother go back to being the cold, hard ass bastard he had been. But before he could think of something to say to back out or tell Dean to forget it, there was a warm hand pressing against the center of his chest. At hearing Dean's voice, he became aware that he'd started hyperventilating.

"Breathe for me, Sammy. Just take a few, slow breaths for me and calm down, little brother," Dean urged. "That's it. Just calm down and breathe. You're safe with me, baby boy." He went on after another few seconds, eyes locked on Sam's pale face in the mirror. His gaze flicked down and he noticed his brother's bare chest wasn't heaving like it had been when Dean stepped into the bathroom.

Dean smiled when Sam's eyes snapped open to immediately lock with his, and he loved the confused little furrow between his younger brother's eyes.

"Okay, I want you to just focus on breathing and listen to me," Dean began slowly, careful to keep his tone even. He kept his hand pressed against the center of Sam's chest, a grounding comfort for them both. It gave him something to focus on instead of the fact that all his brother had on right then was a towel.

"Should I have you do the silver knife or salt water rinse again?" Sam asked quietly, very much aware now of where they were and what little he had on. He wasn't sure if standing this close to his brother in a towel was a good idea, not if they were going to end up in a fight. But he couldn't shake the feeling he got when Dean used 'baby boy'. It was something Sam hadn't heard him use in years, not since he'd been sixteen and his Dean was drunk.

"No, but I will if you want me to," Dean replied easily, knowing that Sam was still cautious. His comfort, however, was what mattered and if he needed Dean to? Dean would prove he was himself a million times over. "Do you want me to, Sammy?" he asked. While Sam's breathing had began to regulate, his heart was beating a little faster beneath Dean's palm.

Sam debated briefly before glancing down to see the silver ring on his brother's hand and the small bronze amulet hanging from his neck. He took a moment before finally shaking his head. "No. No, I think we're good. Dean, I don't want a fight. You don't have to -"

"Yes, what the bastard said to you was true," Dean interrupted, stopping Sam from saying he didn't have to answer. "I need you to stay calm and listen, because regardless of what I tell you, which still won't be everything, there won't be a fight, there will be no guilt or shame placed on you."

Dean paused, taking a slow, deep breath of his own and hoping he could do this. As he lifted his free hand to push Sam's hair back from his face, he noticed how his fingers were trembling.

"First, let me say that yes, even when I got off the rack and began doing Alastair's dirty work, his torture didn't stop. Most of it is crap we don't need to go over right now, not when you're still raw from what happened to you," Dean began, fighting to keep his voice even; these were things he didn't like remembering much less having to bring up to his brother at all. "No, nothing that happened to me in Hell, while I was on the rack or after, was your fault. I knew the risks when I made the deal and I knew some of what I was getting into when I finally gave into the bastard when he threatened you.

"Yeah, okay, I wasn't expecting everything he did to me but, like anything else in my life, if it kept you safe? I was going to deal with the consequences," he went on, shaking his head when he saw Sam about to speak. "Hear me out and then you can cross examine me, okay?"

Sam bit back his argument, wondering how Dean could possibly say there was no guilt or fault that laid with him… But meeting the sharp green eyes that were pinned on his face clued him in that this was much harder for Dean than he was letting on. He gave a slight nod and reached forward, his fingers slipping through one of Dean's belt loops, needing that connection.

"It was never a secret in Hell that you were my biggest weakness. Alastair knew you were the reason I made the deal, so I don't know why he waited so long to use it against me. The second he told me how easy it would be for him to have you down there and what he planned to do to you? I didn't give a damn about myself. I was not letting him or his cronies touch you, Sammy.

"I would take all his pain, all the shame. He was not touching you." Dean had to stop, too many memories hitting him at once. He made a move to step back, but the second he went to drop his hand from Sam's chest, strong fingers caught him, twisting their fingers together. Dean's heart almost shattered at the show of support. "Sammy."

"You… you agreed when the shifter said if he was a sick ass monster then so were you. You agreed with him, Dean," Sam was understanding more now why his older brother had been so on edge, so much harder when he returned from Hell. Watching Dean's face as he spoke also told Sam how much they'd both been played. If there was one thing Sam was certain of, is that Dean was not weak. Now he just had to risk damaging the calm by touching the next topic.

"Yeah, I agreed because in so many ways I do feel like it," Dean glanced at their joined fingers before moving his eyes back to Sam. He took a deep breath and took a half-step forward that brought him close enough that Sam's bare chest that he brushed him with the black t-shirt he still wore. "Between what I did down there, to what was done to me, I'm broken, Sammy. And it makes it harder for me to control things, myself." He felt Sam tense just slightly at the closeness but wasn't sure if he was uncomfortable with Dean so close or a flash of memory.

"The other thing the shifter said to you..." He hesitated again, biting back a groan when he looked up to see Sam chewing on his bottom lip.

"That you had feelings for me that weren't so brotherly?" Sam had heard this part of his brother's speech to the shifter as well, and this was the part he silently hoped he hadn't misheard. "Was that true, Dean?" he asked, voice dropping softer. He slowly lowered his eyes until a hand caught his chin, lifting so their eyes were once again locked. Sam swore his heart slammed into his throat at the depth of emotion he could see from deep green eyes.

Dean licked his lower lip, smiling as he watched Sam watch the movement. Dean smoothed his thumb over a bruise on his cheek and silently wondered which of them shook more. "Yeah, that was true," he admitted, voice dropping lower as emotions began to hit him. He knew in the back of his head that he needed to move back and let Sam process. Instead, he took a step closer, pressing his knee between Sam's legs. The towel now did very little to hide his brother's reaction to being this close.

"Did… oh my God. Did you mean it when you said that you hated yourself for not leaving with me?" Sam asked, gasping as he felt rough denim slipping between his legs. He silently prayed he wasn't dreaming. "You… you would've left Dad to come with me?"

"If I had been sure he wouldn't come after us or could keep him from lashing out at you? If I had the guts to stand up for myself like I did for you? Then oh hell yeah, I would've left with you," Dean replied, his voice huskier one that Sam hadn't heard in a long time. "If I'd been smart, I would've grabbed you and gotten us both the hell out of there the moment I hit eighteen."

Sam didn't really think their Dad would've allowed that, but he understood why Dean felt that way. Though right then, he didn't want thoughts of their dad. He was focused on the way his body was now heating up, reacting to how close Dean was. But what nearly did the younger Winchester in was the feel of soft, hot lips just ghosting along the hard line of his jaw, making him shiver

"Do you… do you still feel that way?" he asked, groaning at how stupid that question was considering their positions, but shivered once more at the low laugh it earned him.

"Sammy, if I didn't? I wouldn't be debating on how to ask you to let me kiss you." Dean chuckled, focused on moving his lips down Sam's neck but not actually touching his brother's skin.

Sam blinked at that, fingers itching to reach up to touch the amulet just as an excuse to touch his brother. "You… you want to kiss me?" he seemed so shocked that Dean actually stopped what he was doing to look at him.

"I have wanted to kiss you since you were fifteen, Sam," Dean admitted with a slow smile that was the one he only allowed his brother to see. "Can I?" he asked but this time, his honey-coated voice sounded like pure sex.

"God, yes!" Sam figured even if this was a dream, he'd be happy; he'd only been dreaming of feeling his brother's mouth on his since he'd been a teenager.

He wasn't sure what to expect, but he figured it had to be better than what the shifter had done with his mouth or the few sloppy kisses he'd experimented with during Freshman year at Stanford. He gasped, blinking at the gentle fingers brushing over his face and realized his brother was watching him, gauging things.

"No pain or shame, baby boy," Dean murmured before slowly letting his mouth brush over Sam's in a simple, light, almost playful kiss. It was cautious, testing to make sure Sam really was okay with this. Dean was careful to watch Sam's face during the first few light kisses, careful not to deepen the kiss or take it any further. He smiled as he felt shaking fingers curl into his T-shirt, Sam finally returning the kiss slowly, hesitantly as if unsure.

A late night nightmare had told Dean what the shifter had made Sam do, so he was leery of going too far, too fast. But then he heard a soft, almost frustrated whimper against his mouth and understood. "Shh, just relax and don't overthink. Don't let what it did scare you, because trust me, baby brother, what we will do one day will be nothing like that," he promised, his hand moving up to curve around the back of Sam's neck, bringing him closer for another kiss. This one he deepened, just a little more, and heard a soft moan of pleasure that soon had the elder brother's jeans tightening.

Finally having to break the kiss to give them both a chance to breathe, Dean was pleased to see more golds and blues in Sam's hazel eyes which spoke of his pleasure, not a single trace of fear. "Okay, Sammy?" he asked with a soft smile, fingers of the hand that still held Sam's giving a quick squeeze. He felt something loosen inside his chest at the first sign of a dimpled smile aimed at him.

"Those girls in all those schools were wrong," Sam began after a couple seconds, his brain still needing a moment to come back on circuit after, what he knew was a simple kiss, nothing like he knew his brother was capable of. "You kiss so much better than they said."

Dean's eyebrows shot up with that comment but then he let his lips curve into a slow, sinful smirk. Usually the look made Sam roll his eyes, but this time got a shy smile back at him. "Sammy, I have gotten so much better at kissing than when I was sixteen, dude," he teased lightly, feeling the fingers gripping his shirt give a light tug, glancing down to see the damp spot on the tented towel. He had to remind himself to take this slow. Too bad for Dean that his little brother wasn't seeing it that way.

"What else have you gotten better at, Dean?" Sam asked quietly, gasping as he shifted and rubbed his very interested cock against Dean's thigh. "No, wait. Before you say it's too soon to do anything else…" he caught his brother's t-shirt with both hands when Dean seemed to hesitate. "I want to be able to sleep tonight without waking up screaming. I mean, I'm not stupid,I know I'll still have nightmares, but I… I… just need… I need you to… to…" He stopped, frustrated at his lack of words. But suddenly it seemed like no other words were needed as Sam felt his brother's hands frame his face a second before he found himself being kissed and kissed well.

By the time Dean broke the kiss, Sam was being lowered to his bed; sometime in between the bathroom and the short distance to the beds, he'd lost his towel. His focus was now completely on the way Dean's fingers were teasing the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion. Sam swallowed hard, having to be quick on his feet not to say what was on the tip of his tongue, setting himself up for a lifetime of teasing.

"You do know your poker face sucks, right, Sam?" Dean asked with a laugh after he tossed his shirt over to the other bed, reaching for the snap of his jeans. He paused, reaching out to brush Sam's hair back out of his eyes. "You're blushing now, so I'll just go ahead and say this: if anything I say leaves this room? Your hair is getting chopped the next time you get drunk and pass out," he warned in mock sternness. "You're gorgeous, Sammy."

Sam had been debating a reply to defend his hair only to go silent at this, realizing his brother was serious. It was the most open that he'd seen Dean in years. Deciding to keep his mouth shut to avoid saying anything that might break the mood or embarrass either of them, he simply moved a hand and immediately felt it caught and held.

Dean hadn't been planning to go this far tonight. In fact, he had been planning to work up to actual sex. But hearing Sam in the bathroom, watching the raw emotions that crossed his face and recalling some of what had been said at night during his nightmares, Dean thought he understood why his brother wanted him to make love with him.

The term made Dean pause as he began to slowly let Sam get used to being with him, to having his hands on him in a way that didn't hurt or humiliate him. Usually when he had sex, either now or back in high school, it was fast and just for release. Oh, he'd always made sure the girl he'd been with enjoyed it, but he never really thought much of it. Not until he began paying more attention to every move Sam made, every sound that fell from his lips with each touch or kiss they shared.

"Dude! I'm not a girl!" Sam burst out as he realized Dean was taking his time, being gentle and careful as his lube-slicked fingers started opening Sam's body up. "Just fuck me and mmhm!"

A searing kiss caught the younger Winchester's mouth, cutting the words off. The move also served to calm him, and the kiss softened as soon as he started to relax back against the mattress.

"No, it will never be just fucking when we do this, Sammy," Dean corrected in a voice full of emotion. He caught Sam's face so their eyes could lock, and he made sure Sam was listening. "I will make love with you tonight, and any other night you want. And only because you are my pain in the ass little brother, I suppose it you want and ask nicely there might even be some post sex cuddling."

Now it was Sam's turn to wing his eyebrow up but he wasn't stupid enough to turn that offer down, assuming he survived the actual making love part. He was half certain he was going to explode if his suddenly too patient sibling didn't do something.

Only one time did Dean stop to ask Sam if he was alright with continuing, and that was after Sam had rolled to his knees with his arms braced on the headboard, Dean's cock pushing against the hole he spent as much time as he could stretching and prepping.

There was a brief flash of pain, of cruel mocking words, but Sam forced his mind to focus on the warm, soft voice murmuring reassurances in his ear. Dean's lips glided over the back of his neck, offering light kisses before sucking the skin at the base of Sam's neck, until he was nodding that it was okay to go on.

"Mine, Sammy," Dean growled lowly once when Sam, in frustration over how slow he thought things were going, made a comment again that he wasn't a girl. "No. N, but you are mine. My little brother. My partner and now my lover. And no one, not angels or demons, or monsters, will tear us apart, Sam." He pressed a kiss to the side of Sam's throat while moving the hand that was stroking Sam's cock faster until he could tell his brother was at the end of his rope. "Come for me, little brother."

A final, firm stroke at the same time as Dean's cock hit Sam's prostate had the younger Winchester shouting Dean's name, spilling hot come over his brother's hand, Behind him, Dean let his eyes close against both his emotion and what he could feel from Sam. He felt his own balls tighten a second before he followed Sam over that cliff as he climaxed in a way that Dean couldn't recall doing in a long time.

The next few moments were silent except for the sound of flesh meeting flesh. No words were needed between the brothers. Dean had a brief moment to remember being boys in the back of the Impala when simple touches had been all that was needed to soothe his brother.

He moved his hand away from Sam's cock when he heard his brother make a sound that was more pain than pleasure, and managed to support them both as he pulled out of his brother's body. He cursed when he caught a sight of white a second before Sam's eyes rolled back in his head and he was literally dead weight in Dean's arms.

"Sammy?!" he called, grunting as he managed to not lose his balance while trying to adjust their positions on the one double bed without having to let go of his brother yet.

A quick swipe of his hand on the bedspread to clean it, he carded his fingers back through Sam's sweat soaked hair to see his brother's face was calm, relaxed, with just a hint of a smile on his lips. He realized the force of his climax on top of all the stress and not sleeping had knocked his brother out. Dean blew out the breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"He's going to give me a damn stroke one of these days," he muttered but smiled at the feeling of the warm, hard body trying to snuggle back against his chest and knew he had to do a fast clean up. "Uh-huh, little brother, I'll hold you! But not until I grab something to wipe us off with." Dean chuckled at the softly muttered complaint he heard once he gently slid out to grab his t-shirt and almost instantly Sam complained about the loss of connection. "I love you, but I am not getting glued to you if this stuff dries."

Sam's brain was slow to come back online and he had to take a second to try to remember things. It had been a long time since he could recall sleeping without waking up screaming. He knew he'd been dressed in his sleep pants, but his chest was bare. When a gentle touch of a hand over his heart and lips kissed his neck, his eyes started burning with tears when he realized Dean had kept his promise to hold him after they'd made love.

"You okay?" Dean asked quietly from where he had settled behind Sam, holding his brother against his chest. "These tears I should be worried about, Sam?" he asked, meeting Sam's kiss with a soft smile as his brother shifted to roll towards him. "Guess not?"

"I'm good," Sam replied and wondered if he'd ever get used to this side of his brother as Dean brushed the tears off his cheek with his fingertips. "Are we, Dean?" He had to know, even as he was being tugged more into his brother's arms, Dean shifting them so Sam could lay against his chest, his head over Dean's heart - a position he'd loved to lay in when they were kids.

Dean suspected it wouldn't be easy; they seemed to have too many sides trying to drive them apart. But as he laid still, watching Sam fall back to sleep, he considered how easy it had been for his brother to be a target for that shifter because of how far they'd been pushed apart. He smiled and nodded, kissing his brother's head softly.

"Yeah, Sammy. We're good and it's all gonna be good from now on."

The End