Soooo... yeah... *crickets* Sorry about the long absence. Wasn't sure where to go with this, got to writing some other stuff... but I finally finished it! To celebrate, have some bottom!Sam porn!
DISCLAIMERS: I own NOOOOTHIIIIING. Except the AKF shirt I just ordered. Go Jared! Also, mucho swearing and graphic depictions of smexy brother fucking.
Dean lay Sam gently down on the bed furthest from the door in their motel room, fingers lingering on his pulse—Sam was alive and safe with him. But based on its sluggish pace, he wouldn't be for long. The fact that Sam hadn't protested even once to Dean scooping him up in his arms and carrying him attested to that.
"Sam? Wake up. Sam!" He hadn't opened his eyes in three minutes and thirty seven seconds. Dean shook his shoulder forcefully (but not too much force, right? He didn't hear any bones snap. Fuck, he'd never realized how breakable Sam was before… it was so hard to control his newfound strength, every time he touched Sam he was afraid of hurting him). For the first time his demon heart raced in real fear. "Sam!"
The pulse in Sam's neck sped up slightly before unfocused hazel eyes blinked open. "Deeeennn," Sam slurred breathlessly, expending whatever energy he had left in that short burst.
"Hey, Sammy—no, you can't sleep right now, stay with me," Dean murmured when Sam's eyes slipped close again. "Focus on me, little brother." He ran his fingers through brown locks matted and dyed red with blood. Ignored the little thrill of pleasure it gave him to see such a pretty color and focused on the rush of pride he felt for his little brother when he opened his eyes with a soft moan.
"You with me?"
"Mmhmm." Sam's eyes were still open, so Dean let him get away with one syllable responses.
"Good, just stay with me. You're doing great. There's just one more tiny thing I need you to do for me before you can sleep: I need you to drink this for me. It's not going to taste very good, but I need you to swallow it all. Can you do that for me?" He waited patiently for the almost imperceptible head nod in response as Sam's eyes slipped close again.
Quick as lightning (before he could change his mind), Dean grabbed the demon-killing knife from the top of their weapons bag and slashed the blade across his wrist. Just barely managing to suppress the guttural hiss that threatened to escape, he silently raised his gushing wrist over Sam's open mouth. The second the first drop exploded onto Sam's waiting tongue, Sam's eyes flew open—in fear.
Against all odds, Sam somehow found the energy to raise himself up and scoot back against the headboard. "Wh—what the fu—fuck? No, Dean, n-no."
"Sam, you know there's no way that doesn't end with me in handcuffs if we take you to the hospital. You've lost a lot of blood, and you need a transfusion, fucking yesterday. You'll die if you don't!"
"Don't…care. Not drinking demon blood again." Sam pointedly clamped his mouth shut and glared up at his brother, but it was obvious he was fighting to stay conscious. It only succeeded in making Dean feel more justified.
"Who cares what it is if it'll save your life! Just. Do. It."
Sam shook his head.
"Do it!"
Sam shook his head again. He was growing paler by the second and Dean knew it was a race against time.
Dean tore his gaze away from his little brother's unfocused puppy dog eyes and stared at his boots. Let a deep breath out through his flared nostrils. If he didn't do this, Sam would die. He couldn't have that. So he felt no remorse for what he was about to do.
He loosened his control on the demon inside him.
"Don't make me force you. Because I will," Dean growled and looked back at Sam, and Sam immediately sensed the change in him.
This wasn't his Dean.
"I'm not… making you do… anything," Sam panted, struggling to get enough air in his lungs to even speak. "But if you put… that in my… body… again, I swear I will nev—never… forgive you."
There was a beat of silence before Dean shrugged. "I can live with that."
Blood had long since stopped oozing from his wrist, the wound having healed itself with little more than a thought, so Dean slashed the knife across his wrist once more and brought it to Sam's snarling mouth. His little brother tried to turn away, but he could barely move. His attempts to get away were downright pathetic. Dean grabbed Sam's jaw in one hand and pried his mouth open with the other.
It was so easy. Pathetically easy.
He could force Sam to swallow his blood without a second thought.
He could kill Sam without a second thought. Just a little too much pressure when he ran his fingers through Sam's hair and he could crush Sam's skull.
No no no no nonononononononono-
"FUCK!" Dean roared and threw the knife across the room, where it landed embedded in the thin plaster walls. "WHY WON'T YOU DO IT? IT WILL SAVE YOUR FRIGGIN LIFE. WHY WON'T YOU DO THIS ONE FUCKING THING?"
He watched, practically vibrating with rage, as a single tear slipped down Sam's cheek. Sam whispered, "B-Because I… I promised. I m-made a p-promise to myself and to y-you that I would nev-never, never drink demon blood again. Never l-let you down again. Fu-fucked that one up, didn't I?"
The defeated, bitter smile on Sam's face shattered whatever was left of Dean's black, twisted, mutilated heart. He fell to his knees, utterly at his brother's mercy. He blinked rapidly. His eyes burned. Everything was blurry.
He didn't know demons could cry.
"Sam," Dean whispered (begged) "I…I…can't. I can't do this without you. Don't you see? You. Are. Everything. So if you plan on checking out, you might as well stab Ruby's knife through my heart right now. I can't fight this thing inside me without my pain in the ass little brother."
It didn't make sense. Demons don't cry. And yet, here Sam was, watching his brother, a goddamn demon, cry. Through tears of his own, making the world a blurry mess.
His brother.
This was his brother.
He blinked, and Dean stood in front of him, holding out Ruby's knife. Sam stared. And stared. Shook his head.
Closed his eyes.
Opened his mouth.
The metallic tang was almost instantaneous. Dean had acted without hesitation, in fear Sam would change his mind.
Even as he gulped down the deep red liquid like he was starving for it, feeling the fire ignite inside his body and the flames licking at his veins, burning straight through them, a part of him recoiled from what he was doing. The choice he was making.
Another, more basic, part of him rejoiced.
When Dean finally pulled his wrist away (all too soon) Sam was disgusted with his body for chasing after it, wanting more.
"I think that's enough for now," Dean chuckled, healing his wrist with a thought. He held out a hand to Sam. "What do you say we get cleaned up, huh? I smell like vamp juice and my clothes are getting crusty."
Sam warily chanced a peek up at his brother. No disgust or judgement in his eyes. He didn't look at Sam like he was a doomed science experiment for drinking demon blood. Only concern for his well-being, fond exasperation for being kept waiting, and… love… shone in Dean's gaze.
Dean's hand was warm when he wrapped his fingers around it.
It probably should have been weird to share a shower with his brother after all these years, but it wasn't. They'd been through too much together to feel awkward about nudity now. Instead, it felt perfectly natural for Dean to soap him up and then lightly scrub all the blood and dirt off Sam's body. It was just like when they were kids. As if nothing had changed between them. Maybe nothing had, after all.
As Sam turned from Dean scrubbing his back, Dean met him with a kiss. On each of his eyelids. On his nose. Cheeks. Lips. Heart.
Sam nearly collapsed with the weight of Dean's silent apology. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders he didn't even know he was carrying. Dean still loved him. Dean still cared. Dean didn't blame him for that night. A new weight was in its place, a different, fluttery, nervous kind of weight he wasn't sure he knew the meaning of, but warmed his body in a whole other way than the demon blood.
He'd figure it out tomorrow.
That night, Dean held him tightly, keeping the nightmares of red and teeth and black eyes at bay.
Sam woke to the feather-light touch of his brother stroking a thumb over his cheek, practically a caress. It felt nice, so he burrowed in deeper under the covers and let the comforting scent of Dean wash over him, the warmth of Dean's body pressed against his, and the soft caress of his brother lull him back to sleep.
"Sammy?" Dean murmured, and his tone was so hopeful Sam couldn't help but pry one eye open on instinct.
"Mmmph," Sam grunted, but knew Dean understood that as, 'good morning.'
"I'm so sorry. God, I should have made you eat something, drink some juice, made sure you were totally okay before you fell asleep. But you were so tired I just wanted to let you sleep, and then I fell asleep, and now you're so friggin pale, I thought—I thought…" Dean broke off with a shaky breath that was more of a sob.
Immediately, Sam was on alert. All traces of sleep were washed away with the unabated fear in his big brother's voice. He sat up in bed, ignoring the shortness of breath and nausea that suddenly took hold of him. Dean needed him. "Dean, I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine, you saved me, remember? You can relax now."
"If that's true, why are you as translucent as the ghosts we hunt?" Dean grumbled.
"Huh?" Sure, he felt a little dizzy, but he was fine…
"I think you need to drink some more of my blood."
Sam blinked owlishly for several seconds before what Dean said fully sunk in. His brother wanted him to do that. Again. He opened his mouth to say, "no way in hell," but hesitated when he saw the white-knuckled grip Dean had on the pillow next to him. The small tremble running through Dean's entire body. Dean had truly thought he was dead.
Knowing what that did to both of them, Sam pushed down his initial repulsion to open his mouth nice and wide so there was no mistaking what the gesture meant.
Just like last time, Dean wasted no time in bringing the knife to his wrist and bleeding into Sam's waiting mouth. Sam swallowed it all down, greedily. The fire was back, more intense than ever before, and his body was burning, and he wanted more, more, more…
Dean felt the change come over his brother in the way he gulped down the blood faster and faster. "Sam, what? I think that's enou-" Dean tried to close the wound, but Sam started to suck on it, forcing more blood out. His long, wet, hot tongue lapped at Dean's wrist, swirling around lasciviously. The little mewls Sam made, and the suction, god the suction, made what felt like all the blood in Dean's body suddenly rush south.
"Sam, you gotta… gotta stop… oh… oh!" Sam hummed and the vibrations somehow made the suction even more intense, and Dean couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair and yanked him off his wrist and put his lips in its place. He licked into Sam's mouth, tasting himself, hot and strangely spicy, and moaned.
Sam responded enthusiastically, kissing Dean back just as feveredly. He thrust his tongue into Dean's mouth like he wanted to map it. Dean loved it. He leaned more over Sam and ground his hips into Sam's experimentally. Sam threw his head back and moaned. Dean grinned, and did it again, harder this time. They established a hard and fast rhythm, with Sam meeting Dean's every thrust, grinding their hard dicks together with only the thing cotton of sleep pants between them. They kissed, with too much teeth in their fevered pace, somehow making it even hotter.
"Oh God, Sammy, gonna…" Dean panted into Sam's neck.
"Not yet! I want you. Want you in me," Sam moaned when Dean bit the junction between neck and shoulder.
Dean had to reach into his sleep pants and grab the base of his dick to keep from coming just from hearing that. "You—you really want to, to do that again? For real?" You want me? Try as he might, he couldn't quite keep the outright hope from his voice.
Sam chuckled. "Yes Dean, I want to have the buttsex with you, if you want me to put it in terms your fourteen-year-old brain will understand."
"Shut it, smartass," Dean growled, but playfully. He reluctantly pulled away from his brother and off the bed to reach inside a side pocket of his duffel for the small bottle of lube he kept hidden away. "We do this, we're going to do it right this time."
The answering smile Sam threw him nearly took him to his knees with the amount of unconditional love and trust he saw in Sam's eyes. Even as a filthy demon, his baby brother still trusted him completely, going so far as to truly begin this new facet of their relationship despite the fact he was a fucking demon. The sight of Sam spreading his legs wantonly in an open invitation nearly took him to his knees in a different way, however.
Dean squeezed some lube on his fingers, rubbing it between his palms to warm it up, and then gently pressed a finger into Sam's waiting hole. He crooked his finger and carefully pulled it in and out several times before adding another finger. As he did this, he locked eyes with Sam, intently watching every play of emotion across his face. There was a little discomfort when he added the second finger, but mostly he seemed eager, if impatient. He added a third finger the next time he pulled out, and when he thrust his fingers back in he felt them brush a bundle of nerves. Yahtzee.
"Holy shit!" Sam's back arched with the wave of pleasure. "Do that again."
"Your wish is my command." Dean met Sam with an evil grin and thrust his fingers back in, nailing Sam's prostate, and then again and again, fucking Sam with his fingers. He loved the way Sam keened and met Dean's every thrust, trying to take Dean's fingers in even deeper.
"I'm ready, I'm ready, Dean, please, please," Sam moaned and for a second he wanted to scream for the loss when he felt Dean's fingers leave him. But a moment later he felt the head of Dean's heavily lubed cock at his entrance.
"Sammy, are you sure this is what you really want? Because we can stop-" Sam heard the barely contained panic in his brother's voice. He grabbed Dean's hand and squeezed.
"I want this. I've wanted this for a long, long time, believe me. I want you. All of you. Demon and all," Sam whispered. He reached up and tenderly wiped away the single tear falling down Dean's cheek.
Inch by slow, painful inch, Sam gripped Dean's hand as he entered his little brother. When he finally bottomed out, he had to take a minute to simply keep from coming. Sam was so tight and hot and velvety around his dick. Once again, he was struck by the overwhelming feeling of home. That this was where he belonged. With his little brother, inside his little brother, the only home he had ever known or needed. It was even better than he remembered, because this time, Sam could really participate. He didn't let Dean forget that either as he impaled himself a little deeper on Dean's cock.
"Gonna fuck me, big brother?"
Dean smirked. "Don't test me, little brother." The wrongness of it all, of the nicknames, made it even hotter. He pulled out until just the head of his dick was inside Sam, and thrust back in. Sam gasped and spread his legs even wider, wanting more of that feeling. Dean restrained himself at first, keeping an agonizingly slow pace, not wanting to hurt his brother. But when Sam started meeting his every thrust and screamed "Ha—harder! Dammit!" Dean obliged. He was a gentleman after all. He gripped Sam's hips tightly (Sam would definitely have bruises in the shape of his fingers there tomorrow… he liked that idea) and picked up his pace.
It wasn't long before he had Sam screaming on every thrust. Distantly, he heard the headboard banging into the wall, but was too preoccupied with making Sam fall apart to care that the entire motel could probably hear them. He actually kinda liked the idea of everyone knowing Sam was his. On an impulse, Dean threw one of Sam's legs over his shoulder, sharpening the angle, allowing him to hit Sam's prostate straight on, on every thrust.
"Dean, Dean, Dean." Sam cried, beyond words. His entire world was narrowed to the sensation of Dean inside him, and giving him more pleasure than he had even known possible. "Gonna cum…" he moaned loudly but with the way Dean nailed his prostate so perfectly he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed.
"Come for me, Sammy." Dean thrust home hard, sending the headboard slamming loudly, and Sam writhed beneath him, screaming Dean's name as he came. The sight of his little brother coming undone and the clench of muscles around his cock had him coming within moments, burying himself deep inside Sam as he came.
For a moment, it was all they could do just to lay there, remembering how to breathe. That was the most intense orgasm of Dean's life. "Holy shit," he panted into Sam's sweaty neck and resisted the urge to lick the beads of sweat away.
"I know. That was…"
"Awesome?" Dean supplied with a smirk.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Get off me. Or should I say, out of me. You're heavy."
A devilish grin was the only warning Sam received before Dean wiggled his hips, brushing Sam's oversensitive prostate with his soft cock. "Deeeeean," Sam whined.
The sound of Dean's full-body laughter was wholly worth it.
It was weird.
To be exact, it was more weird that it wasn't weird. This thing between them. They settled into it like they'd been doing it their entire lives. In a way, they had. But you'd think there would be some kind of adjustment period, some kind of holy shit I'm dating my little brother that I practically raised (did you know I used to change his diapers?) that I've harbored latent incestuous feelings for, for who knows how long? And oh yeah, I'm a demon now! freak out.
There wasn't any. Sam and Dean fit together seamlessly like two halves of a whole, no assembly required. This new facet of their relationship didn't just feel natural, it felt inevitable. The touches, sharing a bed, making love, it all felt so right.
Dean waited. He waited for the freak out, for the epiphany at four a.m. that this was disgusting, sick, wrong, dirty, how he was manipulating his little brother into this. It never came, for days and weeks he waited for the other shoe to drop and it never did, but still he waited. Instead, all he felt was a tentative, transitory sort of happiness.
That's exactly what he was afraid of.
ONE MONTH LATER
Dean had dragged Sam to a bar in Chicago. They'd just come off a hunt, a malicious spirit haunting some old abandoned factory, and it had gone off without a hitch (for once). To celebrate, Dean wanted to go to a bar and have a few drinks with his little brother. Despite his protests that he just wanted to go back to the motel and sleep, when Dean stuck his lower lip out in a pout, Sam found himself unable to say no.
The bar was a mite classier than they were used to. The tabletops were actually clean and the place didn't smell like the usual combination of whiskey, death, and piss. It even had a more modern feel, with the black and white tables and flooring.
"I'm gonna get us some beers," Dean said, leading Sam with a hand on his lower back to a table in the back of the spacious room before heading to the bar.
Sam sat down and tried not to blush at the small public display of affection. He looked around the bar cautiously; there were only four other people in the room and not a single one of them appeared to have witnessed it anyways. He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Dean had been a lot more… touchy feely wasn't the right word for it, but… Dean touched him a lot more often now.
Not that he was complaining.
"Hey, haven't seen you around here before."
Sam looked up to see the man seated at the table in front of theirs turned around in his seat, staring at him expectantly. He was blonde, with angular features. The first word that sprang to Sam's mind was pretty boy.
"Uh, yeah, just blowing through town on business," Sam muttered quietly and flashed an awkward smile before looking back at the direction his brother had gone in. As if on cue, Dean appeared with two bottles of ice cold beer. He set them down with more force than necessary and took his seat across from Sam.
Dean subtlely cast a dark glance at the man he'd seen talking to Sam, who'd quickly turned back around the second he'd seen Dean coming. He then looked to Sam. The message was clear. He bothering you?
Sam shook his head and took a long pull from his beer. Let it go.
Dean shrugged, ignoring his first instinct to bash the man's face in, in favor of picking up his own beer.
The incident with the blonde man was soon forgotten, and four beers later, Sam and Dean were doing exactly what they came here for: laughing, relaxing, eating greasy bar food, and hustling pool. Between them, they'd even managed to make over a couple grand in one night by hustling a group of overprivileged college kids.
It was a good night.
But when Dean noticed Sam swaying on his feet after his fifth beer, he decided to call it a night. He lead a grinning Sam back to their table and laughed when Sam didn't seem to want to let his hand go. "I'm gonna hit the head. You be good til I get back, ya hear?" Even demons needed to piss when they drank that much, apparently.
His little brother nodded and smirked back cheekily. "Hurry back," he slurred his words slightly. He watched Dean leave shaking his head fondly. The world was starting to spin, so Sam closed his eyes. He felt a hand on his shoulder but was too out of it to startle.
"Deeen?" Sam slurred, expecting to see his brother, but when the room stopped spinning long enough for him to focus he was met with the intense blue-eyed gaze of the blonde man from before.
"Where's your friend? He get lost?"
"Noooo, man," Sam laughed, because for some reason it was really funny, "he went to the, to the…"
The man grinned. "I'm Chad." Sam sloppily shook the offered hand, almost missing by a wide margin. Chad leaned in and through the haze of alcohol Sam could smell… lemons? The scent was so unexpected he couldn't help but giggle. "Care to clue me in on what's so funny?" Lemons! Pretty boy Chad smelled like lemons! He was too caught up in laughing to notice Chad leaning in even closer, invading his personal space, and laying his hand on Sam's. All Sam knew was that he smelled lemons and lemons smelled good—lemons! Ha!
And then there was a loud crash echoing throughout the mostly empty room, ringing in his ears and Chad wasn't there anymore.
"Don't touch him. Don't touch him. Don't. Touch. Him." Dean snarled, smashing his fast into Chad's face again and again and again in the middle of the rubble of where the bar stood only moments before. A resounding crack rang through the entire bar and with each swing of Dean's fist into Chad's face it grew louder and louder. Blood gushed freely from Chad's nose and mouth and he still hadn't woken up from when Dean had thrown him into the bar.
It all made Sam horribly nauseous. His stomach rolled, and it wasn't from the alcohol. "Dean, stop."
Dean continued to pummel Chad's face, blatantly ignoring Sam.
"Dean, stop it!" Dean didn't stop. "I said stop it!" Sam sucked in a shakey breath at the sight of Chad's now unrecognizable face. "Dean. Stop. Please stop," he whispered.
Finally, mercifully, Dean did. He pulled away from Chad and stood, turning to face his brother… but not before delivering a good hard kick to Chad's ribs, without a doubt breaking them. Sam thought they sounded sickeningly like castanets as they broke. He stalked towards Sam like a hunter facing its prey and Sam could see nothing of his older brother behind the blazing black eyes.
Sam stood there frozen, unable to force his body to move even with the rush of sobering adrenaline. For a moment he wasn't sure whether Dean would turn on him next. Dean pressed his body up against Sam's. It was the first time Sam ever flinched away from his brother's touch. But to his surprise Dean simply bowed his neck and nuzzled his face into the crook of Sam's shoulder. As if he was marking Sam with his scent.
"Mine," Dean growled.
Sam swallowed heavily. "Y-Yeah Dean, y-yours." That seemed to appease Dean and he ducked his head again. When he raised it his eyes were green again.
"Let's get out of here."
Everyone else had left the bar, screaming, when Dean had flung Chad into the bar like a ragdoll, so it made for an easy get away. Sam was sure he heard sirens in the distance and was thankful they left before the cops arrived. He hoped they had an ambulance with them.
"What was that?" Sam rounded on Dean the second they were safely out of the parking lot.
Dean shrugged. "He touched you."
"All that because he got a little touchy-feely?" Sam asked in disbelief, clenching his jaw.
"Uh-huh."
"You broke his fucking face, Dean. That is not okay!"
"So?"
Sam's jaw actually dropped a little. "You could have killed him. Don't you understand that?"
"Again I repeat: So?"
ONE WEEK LATER
"Sam?"
"Yeah, over here in the library."
Dean strode over to where Sam was hunched over an old tome in a corner of the library. "Whatcha doing, geekin' it up in here?" After the bar incident, they'd decided (as in, Sam gave Dean the puppy eyes and Dean reluctantly agreed) to return to the bunker
"Well," Sam cleared his throat, "I think it's time we got back to work on our original objective: getting the Mark of Cain off you and turning you back into a human."
"Not interested." Dean came up behind Sam and rested his chin on Sam's shoulder to see what he was reading. It was in some dead language he couldn't make heads or tails of, but apparently Sam could.
He felt his brother's body tense immediately. "You're joking, right? Cause that's not funny."
"Dead serious. You're wasting your time."
"There has to be a cure somewhere! We'll find it, just give me time-"
"There isn't. Quit kidding yourself," Dean hissed, flashing black eyes as he gripped Sam's shoulder painfully tight. "Ever if there was a cure, I wouldn't take it."
Sam whirled around in his chair so fast it fell over with a thud. He gripped the front of Dean's shirt with shaking hands. "You don't mean that. Whatever's going on inside you, you have to fight it."
Narrowing his eyes, Dean raised his own hands over Sam's squeezing them so tight Sam let out a pained gasp. "I like things the way they are. Leave them."
As he stared into the inky black abyss of his brother's eyes, Sam was reminded with startling clarity that this was not his Dean.
But he would get him back. One way or another. No matter the cost.
The old wooden floors beneath him creaked as Sam paced back and forth in Dean's room. It was more like their room now, ever since Dean had surprised him by moving all of his meager belongings into the admittedly homier room. The bed was much too small to fit the two of them comfortably, and Dean talked about buying a bigger one, but since Dean didn't technically need to sleep it worked for now. Demon or not, Dean still smelled the same, which was comforting, so Sam didn't mind the lack of space.
Dean was on a local hunt, a haunting, so Sam didn't have long to do this. Dean would finish in no time.
Biting his lip, Sam wearily fell to his knees where he'd abruptly stopped his pacing; in front of the bed. He always felt odd doing this, as if he didn't have the right. Every time, he half expected a bolt of lightning to smite him.
With closed eyes, clasped palms, and a racing heart, Sam prayed.
He couldn't help but think about Cas as he did so, even if he knew the angel would most likely not be able to answer.
"Hey… Cas… Um, things are… they're bad, and getting worse. Dean doesn't want to be cured anymore. Everyday he loses another piece of himself. You know, he even had the nerve to lock me in the Bunker while he goes on hunts all by himself. Spouting bullshit about my safety. As if I'm some kind of princess or something! He won't let me do anything or go anywhere! I'm going crazy. We gotta get him human again so I can kick his ass for that, right?"
Sam swallowed heavily against the sudden lump in his throat. "I—I need him back. I have to get him back, no matter the consequences, do you understand? What I'm about to do… it's for Dean, okay? I need you to understand that. If you could just, uh, watch over us like you always do, that'd be great. Thanks. Hope things are going okay in Heaven. See ya soon, I hope. And I'm rambling."
Sam muttered to himself, standing up with a red face. He looked over at the bowl on the nightstand, seeming to grow larger with each passing second. This was such a bad idea, but he didn't have any other options. He needed to get Dean back, and he knew without a doubt his brother was still in there.
It was in his smile, his laugh, his concerned gaze, how gentle he was when he made love to Sam. It was up to him to bring his brother back, and he wasn't going to let him down like so many times before.
Not this time, Sam repeated like a mantra inside his head.
Grabbing a match, Sam said a silent prayer that Dean would forgive him for what he was about to do.
"Soup's on!" Dean called out as he entered the Bunker attempting to balance several bags of food.
"Hey." Sam came in and took a couple bags from him and set them on the kitchen counter.
They ate in comfortable silence, occasionally exchanging banter or stealing each other's food. Sam kept glancing at him with a weird expression on his face when he thought Dean wasn't looking. He almost looked nervous, while trying to hide the fact that he was nervous. But what did Sam have to be nervous about? He'd grill Sam about it later, if Sam didn't initiate a chick-flick moment on his own.
"Hey Dean, can you give me a hand in the library?"
"Yeah sure, I'll be right there."
Before walking out Sam pulled Dean in for a long, deep kiss. A familiar warmth spread through Dean, and he deepened the kiss even more. When they finally pulled apart for air purposes, a string of saliva joined them. Sam looked absolutely debauched with kiss bitten lips, mussed hair, and adorably flushed cheeks.
"What was that for? Not that I'm complaining."
Sam shrugged and gave him that weird look again before walking away, leaving Dean with a little problem.
Several minutes later, Dean stepped into the library and froze in confusion when he tried to take another step and couldn't. A sneaking suspicion in his gut made him look up. A freshly painted Devil's Trap stood above him.
"What the fuck Sam?" Dean growled.
Sam stepped forward, looking like he was about to apologize, when another figure appeared next to him.
"Hello boys."
Ah yes, the two words that make any Crowley fan worth their salt squeal in joy! Next chapter's the last one folks. If anyone's still reading this, any reviews and thoughts would be highly appreciated. I have apple bread... *pleading*
Thanks for reading!