Pure

A/N: Thanks to OnlyWishedYouKnew for beta-ing.

Btw, the phrase in the previous chapter's note, "sissy British accent", was from Dean W., in 2.11 Playthings.

4- Dream on*

"So, when are you gonna tell me what's happening in there?" Bobby asked.

"Nothing worth telling." Dean answered without raising his eyes from his plate.

"Yeah, and I'm the mother goose. You gotta share it sooner or later, you know."

Dean did not answer this time. Bobby was right, sooner or later, he had to let Bobby in that room. But he preferred later than sooner.

"Let me check on him." Dean got up from his chair, "I think it's time to suckle." And before waiting for an answer from the old man, he left the kitchen.

xxx

When Dean lay down next to him, Sam did not say anything; just skit to the side to leave some space for his older brother. He was busy with the memories flowing in his mind; not his memories though. It did not take him too long to understand what was going on with all those weird dreams. They were Dean's memories, his secret memories, kind of memories that you don't want to share with anyone else. Sam knew them all, felt them all, lived them all. Possibly he could remember them better than his brother right now. Dean scored way too many women to remember each one; but Sam lived all of them in past couple of days, he kept re-living them with same intensity again and again. He could taste the flavor of each kiss, smell the aroma of each woman, live the climax of each orgasm his brother went through.

The dreams made him so horny that Sam had a constant boner. It was not too bad at the beginning; but it became really painful in time. He really needed to relieve himself soon, again… He knew some of the pain was due to excessive masturbation, he lost track how many times he jacked off since yesterday. He was afraid he was going to tear his skin off if he continued at this rate.

"Dean?"

"If you're gonna start with your sorry feelings, it's not the time man. I'm hiding here to avoid chatting with Bobby."

"Don't worry; I'm saving my chick-flick moments for the road trips." Finally there was something that could be called as resemblance of a smile on Dean's face. "I was gonna ask… I need…" Damn! There was no easy way to ask for lubricant from your older brother, especially in the bed where you were constantly sucking his blood…

"What?" Dean was curious now, scanned his brother's face with questioning eyes.

"I need some… some cream… for…"

"Are you serious?" Dean was laughing, actually he was cracking up. "You're seriously asking for cream, in a freaking panic room, in this freaking situation? This is just hilarious, Samantha. What happened, your hands are dry?"

It was easier to be made fun of; Sam could not imagine the response from his brother if he had mentioned the real reason. And it was always good to see Dean cracking up; Sam missed hearing his laughter, he missed it a lot.

xxx

Sam started to think that he was actually hooked up to his brother's blood now. Yes, the intensity of the pain hitting him before each feeding was not as bad anymore, the rate of the attacks decreased too; but… but the taste was not changing, it was not getting old. It still gave him immense pleasure; sucking Dean's blood, sucking it from his flesh, the taste, the smell, the aroma... He wanted to hate himself for it, but… oh, this taste… it was pure bliss. The way it was flowing through his lips, spreading over his tongue, its warmth filling his mouth… He had never experienced anything like this. Yes, he was hooked up to Ruby's blood before, but it had nothing to do with the taste. The taste of all the other blood he tried, demon blood that is, had been actually disgustingly repelling. He had had to force himself to swallow each time. But Dean's… oh Dean!

He looked at his brother from the corner of his eye while savoring his blood. There was a little bit pain on Dean's face and Sam felt horrible for causing it; but it was not enough to stop. He could not stop, while the blood was still pouring between his lips, and all those sweet memories swarming his mind. The pleasure was not only due to the taste –although only the taste would be more than enough to make him addicted- but it was also due to the kick coming from those memories. Each time he was drinking Dean's blood, the memories became alive again; he could feel everything as if he was living them right at that moment. The intensity of the pleasure was overwhelming at first, but now Sam could take them all. There was no way Sam would stop; he was going to enjoy it to the end.

Suddenly one of the new memories turned out frightening, really frightening. He already had seen all the different kinkiness Dean had been into time to time, the ropes, the whips, the blades –Dad's blades for crying out loud! What was Dean thinking?- a little bit of pain to spice things up. Not so much Sam's style; but the pleasure, Dean's pleasure, coming with them was so intense, he enjoyed them all the same. But this time, he still felt the buzz Dean had felt, but it was different… Sam was in it. There was no way it could be one of Dean's memories. There was no way Dean could do such thing to Sam, to his Sammy. And also, Sam would have remembered if someone had fucked him in the ass, or if he had scored a cheerleader –that he would definitely have remembered. This was sick… it was sick even for a guy who enjoys the taste of his own brother's blood. It was sick to have a memory of being fucked –no, raped for goodness sake- by his brother; it was even worse to feel his pleasure while doing it. Would Dean really enjoy something like this? Would he really enjoy it this much? Sam could feel the very sensation of entering his own ass, ripping it apart, pumping in it harder and harder, hearing his own screams – and fucking enjoying all of these. This was sick alright!

He could not continue any longer; had to stop. The bleeding was almost ceased anyways. But stopping did not change the memories; they became his memories already. He knew he was going to feel the sick pleasure of fucking his own ass for a while. Sam looked at his brother's face to make some sense out of this madness.

"What? Why are you staring me like that dude?"

Sam lowered his eyes. He could still feel the sensation of coming into his own ass; and the worst part, it made him horny, again.

"This is fucked up!"

"I told you, we'll keep doing this till…" Dean answered almost automatically.

"I don't mean this… this blood sucking fucked up… I mean… damn!"

"If you have something more fucked up than sucking my blood, little brother, I think I'd be jealous."

"If you only knew…" thought Sam. He was confused. If these were not Dean's memories, does that mean they were his fantasies? Like the ones with Megan Fox? Sam enjoyed those ones too, but he was sure Dean was never close to her to do any of the stuff he did -oh, the stuff he did with Megan Fox… Sam knew his brother's obsession with her; it had to be one of his fantasies. It sure felt like real though, at least to Sam. But this last thing, even as a fantasy it could not be possible. He could not help but look at his brother's face again, to see a sign, any sign... There was no way Dean would even think such a thing. Never!

"Dude, stop looking at me like that. You are freaking me out."

"Sorry Dean… I have to go…" said Sam, and continued as Dean gave him that curious look. "to the bathroom of course, where else?"

"Dude, does my blood loosen your bowels? How many times does a man go to bathroom in a day?"

Sam wished that his bowels were the only reason he was using the bathroom. He secured the cream in his pocket and walked after Dean to the bathroom. "Let's see how it's gonna feel like to jerk off over raping your own ass."

xxx

Dean woke up with the whimpers of his brother. He could recognize a nightmare when he saw one; he had woken Sam up just like this, way too many times.

"OK, Sammy. It was just a nightmare. It's over now."

Sam finally woke up, fear and pain was written all over his face. He looked at his older brother, tears were blocking his sight, he had been crying in his sleep.

"Sammy, it's OK." Dean said. He could only offer words for his brother's pain.

"It's not OK Dean. And it wasn't just a nightmare." Sam was hysterical. "I had no idea Dean… I could… have never thought… I… I…"

"Shhh… What is it Sammy?" He looked at his brother with compassion. But Sam could not answer. The pain was too much for him now, the horror was too fresh. He hugged Dean, squeezed him; comforting him as well as himself. Dean let him be for a while; waited till his little brother's sobs were quite.

"You feel better?"

But Sam could not feel better, not anytime soon. It was something to share his brother's very busy sex life –Dean loved boasting about his ladies anyway-; it was a totally different thing to have firsthand experience to his daddy issues.

Sam should have known; he should have recognized it. It was so obvious… but sometimes it was the most obvious thing that you would miss. Now everything made sense; Sam could put all the pieces together: Dean's blind faith in his father, his fixation of pleasing him all the time and always finding excuses for him, his sucky romantic life, his over-protection of his little brother... How come Sam had been so blind… so clueless? Had he intentionally chosen not to see all the signs because he had not wanted to deal with the problem? Had he deliberately left his brother alone in his own torment for all those years?

No! He honestly had not had the slightest clue. He had not turned a blind eye to all those signs; he was just plain stupid. It had never occurred to him that Dean might have needed someone, needed his snotty little brother. Sam had believed that he had a super hero as a brother; genuinely believed that no human can actually hurt Dean Winchester. Yeah, just plain stupid…

"It wasn't your fault, you know." Sam whispered; he could finally understand the reason behind the constant guilt his brother felt for anything and everything ever happened around them, why he had such low self-worth, why he could not live away from this self-destructive life. "It wasn't your fault, Dean."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Dean, I…" There was no way Sam could talk about it; at least for now. "I love you man."

"Me too, Sammy. Now rest. You look like a mess."

TBC

* 3rd track on Aerosmiths' 1973 album, Aerosmith