A/N: Well, here I am again, with yet another chapter... (seriously, this fic is coming out easier than what I thought it would be :|) anyway... don't wanna bore ya guys to death (not until you read and review at least *smiles apologetically for sick humor*)

See that you'll read carefully the ratings, warnings and details on every chapter, for they'll vary.

For chapter 4:

Story Details: 4x10 "Heaven and Hell", specifically the scene where Dean speaks about Hell to Sam, [Search "Dean tells Sam about hell (a must-see)" on YouTube to refresh your memory], and from then I created an AU sort of story in which Dean has nightmares and Sam comforts him (frequently).

Can be read as Wincest or as brotherly love... take you pick! ;)

Rated: M

Warnings: generically dark themes, references to violence and torture, bad language.

Disclaimer: Do not own Dean and/or Sam. Wish I did.

IV: Avaritia [Greed]

They took everything; They sliced and carved and tored him until there was nothing left. Making him feel so empty that he believed he was alone in the world; that he was forgotten; that no one never, ever cared about him.

He waited; with such longing for a kind word, a gentle touch, one moment of being held instead of chained.

He prayed; to whom and for what he can't excactly say.

He begged; for redemption, for an end, for forgiveness, and, above all, for Sam.

For those piercing almond eyes that had the power to warm his very core and to spread heat through his every part like wildfire.

"Whatever you're thinking, whatever reasons are churning you up inside for why you deserved what you got, forget them all."

"You and me, we can do anything, Dean, anything we put our minds into."

All he needed was Sam by his side, and that would be true; he can say, without a doubt, that if Sam was in the rack (key word: in -not on-) with him, he would have lasted for three hundred years, not thirty. He knows the only soul he wouldn't touch, or let Alastair touch for that matter, would have been his brother's.

But Sam wasn't there.

And Dean broke.

Oh, God. Oh God, all those people. All those souls.

He didn't even know how many they were; how many he tortured. How many had he sliced, and carved and ripped apart until there was nothing left?

Oh, God. All those people. All those souls.

"Dean? Wake up, Dean! C'mon wake up."

Dean woke with a start, hearing the faint reverberations of a hoarse scream in the confines of the dark room. He was sweating, shaking, and crying. And someone was holding him in a really really tight grip.

"Bad dream?" Sam whispered, and the warmth of his breath close to Dean's cheek melted away the tension of his shoulders, but not the memories of his dream.

"Yeah." He whispered back, without adding that they were from his time in Hell. Sam already knew that.

They were getting old, really.

But at least they weren't the same each time. If any entertainment was to be gained, it was the variety of violent scenes and disturbing images his subconscious could conjure up from repressed memory.

It was getting easier, to talk about them with Sam; not about their themes per se, but rather about the feelings that evoked in Dean.

Sam listened, somewhat curiously even, but he never pushed Dean to say more. He'd hold Dean, gently caressing the base of his neck, or the skin down Dean's arms.

"I know you don't wanna hear this, Dean, but it wasn't your fault."

"Don't say that, Sam, I could have-" He tried to say that no matter what he shouldn't have accepted Alastair's offer, but Sam wouldn't have any of it.

"You could have what, Dean? You could have lasted longer? Do you think many people would have beared thirty years of torture?" Sam demanded.

"You don't understand, Sam." He sobbed, unable to stand the shame. "I enjoyed it. I enjoyed torturing all those souls. I'm- I feel like I'm no better than Alastair; like I'm evil." Uncontrolable crying came again, and Dean's muscles quivered under Sam's hold.

"Yeah, you're so evil, Dean.", Sam deadpanned. "You have evil little meetings with Angels that drag you out of Hell, because you're destined to help God. You evilly run about hunting creepy things and saving innocent lives. And to top off your evil schemes, you spend thirty years getting tortured cause you couldn't bear harming others, you bastard!"

Probably noticing just now, how real and honest Dean's tears were, Sam dropped his playful tone and gave him a sad smile.

"How can you forgive me like that?" Dean asked avoiding Sam's gaze.

"There's nothing to forgive you about." Sam said taking a hold on his chin, gently forcing Dean to raise his head. "You were only protecting yourself.", he placed his palm over Dean's heart, "Protecting this." he added closing his eyes, as if reveling to Dean's heartbeat.

"How I feel... this... -inside me. I wish I couldn't feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing."

Sam stared at him hard and then sighed. "Lie down for me, and close your eyes.", he ordered in a strict tone and Dean nodded desperately.

He needs this; he needs Sam.

With the soft pad of his ringfinger Sam touches Dean's wrist bone and begins to slowly drag the digit up the underside of Dean's arm, until he reaches Dean's elbow to stroke the opposite of it's bend.

Dean knows this is weird (to put it mildly); Sam caressing and massaging his whole body and face slowly and languidly as if he would have done with a lover. Truth is, Dean doesn't care anymore, whether it's normal or not. He has existed without Sam for forty years -not lived; merely existed- and behind the shadows of the night Dean can allow himself to admit that he's addicted to this, to Sam's touch. And he muses that even if Sam was to spend days, discovering Dean's flesh, it still wouldn't be long enough.

Dean craves this touch; and the words Sam always whispers as if they're a spell.

"Whatever you're thinking, whatever reasons are churning you up inside for why you deserved what you got, forget them all. No matter what you did, you're still my Dean. You'll always be my Dean. You're strong, you're a fighter and you'll get through this, I know it. And I'll be here with you, every step of the way..."

"You and I, we can do anything, Dean; anything we put our minds into. I love you; and I need you. I need you to heal, because I can't be whole with you being broken. So you'll help me fix you, and I promise that I'll never let anyone break you again."

It goes like this, for a time Dean doesn't care to count, and when sleep claims him again, all Dean can remember, see and feel in his dreams is his brother's touch; Protective and strong, and always there. But never plenty; never enough.

A/N: And that would be Greed...

Hope you enjoyed reading!

Which Sin is up next? The hell if I know... :)