Later that night, the red haired teen was ready to flog Sam and Dean to death.

While angst-y teenage boys bitched about their lives from her speakers, Diana ground her teeth together and glared. Things had been going well, but all of a sudden it was as if the story resisted her guidance and went in directions she didn't want. There was no chemistry at all and then *boom* someone was on top! This was no way to write a touching story!

What in the world was wrong with her brain?!

"I appreciate you helping me out." A fourteen year old Sam said over his shoulder, smiling.

The tall, honey-haired seventeen year old that lived next door flashed a grin and replied, "Sure thing. I had a part-time job one Summer to make extra cash. But I was doing yard work mostly... I've never been much of an animal person." Both boys trudged through thick green bushes that haloed the forest behind their neighborhood.

Sam had been hired to watch a dog while its owner went on vacation. But, early that morning, the dog had broken its leash and vanished into the woods. When Sam went out to begin his search, he ran into the neighbor's boy, Dean, who offered to help him. They weren't particularly close but had talked before at neighborhood cookouts. Plus, Sam didn't want to take on the task by himself, so he eagerly accepted.

The shorter teen laughed, "They aren't so bad. It's usually a dog or cat I have to watch, nothing too difficult. Feed them, pet them, and they pretty much take care of themselves the rest of the time. Besides, dogs are fun! Always friendly and happy..." Sam trailed off with a tiny smile.

He didn't catch Dean's whisper, "...Kind of like you."

They made their way deeper into the woods, Sam stumbling from time to time, and Dean as sure footed as if he were raised hiking. Calling the dog's name got no answer and Sam started to fear not finding him; at least safe.

"What kind of person names their dog Lucifer?" Dean quipped from behind, careful not to step on Sam's heels as he slowed to cross a fallen tree.

"I don't know, the brunette answered, "But I think it's a good name. Kind of... cool."

"I had a cat once. He was black as midnight." Dean remembered fondly. "I named him Castiel. Thought it sounded sort of... ethereal."

The younger boy stopped and looked back in confusion, "What does *that* mean?"

"I think it means heavenly. Or something like that."

With a short nod, Sam started walking again. "Okay. I like it. Ethereal." He tried the word out, liking the way it felt on his tongue.

Suddenly there was a push from behind and Sam was falling forward, barely catching himself with his hands before his face hit the ground. "Ow! What-?!"

Diana clamped her hands together in front of her face and concentrated on the scene playing out in her mind. There were two distinct paths this scenario could take.

Either Dean is a good kid who pushes Sam down and covers him with his body because he sees danger and is protecting him. Sam sees it, too, and stills...

Or:

The older teenager gags him and turns out to be a slightly disturbed, dark, lustful boy with designs for Sammy.

Maybe he broke the dog loose and locked it up in his basement? He had a black cat, gets all hot and horny for the innocent boy next door, and isn't above taking the forceful route when it comes to fulfilling his desires.

He might be just like one of the characters out of a stalker movie... Misguided and just a little touched in the head when it comes to boundaries and making good decisions.

How was Diana supposed to make that choice? What would her readers like more? Should she base it on her own preferences?

Why, oh why, couldn't she just take a poll.

Oh, wait.

The sibling thing. Whoops...

Clearing her throat, Diana swiftly saved the file and opened a new, empty 'Notepad'. She mulled over a new storyline, perking up when a song by All Time Low came on wailing about therapy. Instantly, the brain cogs went to work, grinding out yet another situation involving the boys.

'A Brother's Tragesty' (Heehee, word play!)

Dean Winchester was a six foot tall, slender yet muscular, dirty blonde hottie who had girls falling down in the streets begging to be with him. He was in the longest, secure relationship of his life, totally in love with his car, and had all the free time in the world. Life was nothing but smooth sailing for the twenty-one year old.

Except for one minor problem.

No, really... A minor problem. The kind with two legs, bright eyes, and a naivete that would drive anyone insane.

Of course, as far as kids go, especially teenagers, Dean's little brother Sam wasn't much trouble.

It was just... His face. And his slim body. And that soft, hushed tone when he spoke. And the way he always had that adorable little nose between the pages of a book he wouldn't need to read until college.

It made Dean crazy.

...

The older Winchester was moving around the kitchen, slapping together a combination of ingredients only a man could stomach, building himself a sandwich to hold him over until dinnertime. His father, John, worked on the road a lot and often the boys found themselves sharing meals alone.

Of course, since he'd started dating Lisa, Dean rarely ate with Sam anymore. The seventeen year old usually nourished himself with hot pockets buried his attention in a book. It helped make the solitude bearable.

On this particular day, Dean was taking Lisa out to the mall. As much as he hated shopping trips, it was part of his responsibilities as a decent boyfriend to suck it up and suffer silently.

Striding out of the kitchen, sandwich in hand- and mouth-, he passed Sam on the couch, long legs stretched out to the other end, reminding Dean how tall he'd gotten. Pausing for a moment, Dean mumbled with his mouth full, "'Cha read'n?"

Sam glanced up and then back down, answering, "It's a book about Psychology."

Dean lifted and eyebrow. Sam wanted to be a shrink? This was news to him. Last he'd heard the kid wanted to hunt for treasure in the ocean.

...He would be fucked if Sam ever figured out the way his older brother's mind worked.

"I'm going to head out and meet Lisa." Dean said with false cheerfulness before taking another large bite.

Sam didn't meet his eyes and muttered, "Have fun."

Dean could have swore he saw a change in the boy's posture, like he tensed up. No, it must have been his imagination.

Just as the older of the two was about to leave the room, Sam spoke up quickly, "Will you be coming home tonight?"

Dean faltered mid-step and thought before he answered. "Yeah." Sometimes he stayed over at Lisa's or purposefully didn't make it in until the wee hours of the morning. But he was afraid being absent too much might mess Sam up, and that couldn't happen at any cost. After all, that was the reason for all of this right?

...He could spend a few harmless hours with his brother.

"Dad called and said he'll be gone for at least three more days." Sam said, and Dean nodded in understanding. Fishing the keys out of his pocket, Dean almost missed the next thing Sam said, "I... I'm going on a date tonight."

Dean stilled.

Sam went on, "If I'm not back by the time you get home, you can eat without me. There's a pizza in the freezer. All you do is take the plastic off and put it in the oven on... Well, I'm sure you know how to read direc-"

"Who is she?" Dean cut off Sam's light hearted words with a carefully level voice.

"Oh, uh, she's in my Advanced Math class. Her name is Ruby."

Ruby. Sounds like a stripper's name. Dean thought with distaste. He didn't want to feel resentful, but he did all the same. Never before had Sam been on a date or even mentioned a girl's name. Dean wondered why he thought it was okay if Sam didn't ever find a girlfriend; but he knew the answer.

His brother wouldn't stay a kid forever, but Dean was still surprised. He thought there was more time before Sam grew up and left home. But every day he was getting older; and closer to creating a new life, one without Dean in a leading role.

It was painful. And bitter. And it hurt like nothing else.

Keeping his casual demeanor in place, Dean forced himself to refrain from growling, "I won't be home tonight after all. Have fun on your date. Remember to use a glove."

"What?" Sam's clueless voice quipped and Dean squeezed his eyes shut, mentally berating himself. Why did I say that?

Without another word, Dean left and clamped down his emotions as best as he could. Nothing like years of practice to master a poker face.

...

"Lisa, I didn't mean it that way!"

The curvy yoga instructor ignored the protest and stalked up her driveway, seething. "Yeah, right! I know you, remember? You always say exactly what you mean!"

Dean scrambled out of his Impala and up the pavement after her. "I was wrong! It wasn't supposed to sound like that."

Spinning on her heel, Lisa faced Dean and cried, "How else would it sound?!" Imitating his voice, she quoted his previous words, "'Those are cute, but do you need to advertise being a slut?"

"I didn't mean it in a bad way!"

"Oh, you meant it as a compliment. Thanks a bunch!" She screamed at him, rushing towards the house.

He followed her, pleading, "Come on, babe. I shouldn't have said it. I know you're not a slut. You just act like one when you're drunk."

Throwing open the front door and glaring daggers at him, the woman shrieked, "Go to Hell!"

She slammed the door in his face before he could stop her. With a sigh, Dean shook his head and made his way back to his car. There was no talking to her when she was like this. They'd played this scene out many times before. So he called her a slut, so what? It was her idea to sleep with him when she was drunk and ask him out the evening after just to screw again. One or two sweet words and they were 'romantically involved'.

Of course, she put out so often Dean didn't have to look for it anywhere else. But it was almost impossible to get along with her when they were one on one outside of the bedroom.

The blonde man reached home just before dark only to find it empty. He knew there was a chance Sam was on his date but even then the quiet was unexpected.

Part of him thought maybe his brother had cancelled or made it up. But apparently not.

Dean opened the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He sat down in an armchair, lights out, and waited.

...

Two hours later, Dean heard a car stop outside, followed by the sound of someone getting out.

A minute passed and then the car drove away.

Another minute and the front door opened. Sam's silhouette filled the doorway and he felt the wall blindly for the light switch.

When the room brightened, Sam saw Dean and jumped, clutching his chest. "You scared me." He breathed, recovering quickly and taking off his jacket, hanging it on a hook near the door.

Dean stayed quiet until Sam passed him and went into the kitchen. He heard the cabinets being opened and then the sound of running water. Sam emerged with a glass of water and sat down on the opposite side of the room, not meeting Dean's eyes.

"I thought you were staying at Lisa's tonight?" The teen asked, picking up one of the many books on the coffee table between them.

Dean watched as Sam lifted his legs onto the couch and slid down against the arm, opening the book and holding it above his face, seeming to pretend to read it. "I changed my mind." The older Winchester said, his voice low and void of emotion. Sam hmm'ed in acknowledgment and the room was quiet.

Then Dean spoke again, intentionally adding a hint of suggestiveness to his voice, "So, did you lose it?"

Sam's eyes widened briefly, then he pursed his lips and feigned ignorance, "Lose what?"

A lewd smile lifted one corner of Dean's mouth. "You know," He said, leaning forward in his chair, "It. Your virginity."

Sam's cheeks tinted pink and he swallowed, then said, "I haven't been a virgin for a while, Dean."

Immediately the blonde's eyebrows raised and he stared at Sam's face, looking for the signs of a tell. He had to be lying. He had to be...

All of a sudden Sam dropped the book on the floor with a heavy thud and sat straight up, both hands flying up to his face. "Ahh!" He cried.

Dean leapt up out of his chair and jumped over the coffee table, kneeling beside Sam. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" He demanded, momentarily forgetting everything else.

"There's something in my eye!" Sam groaned, grinding his palm into his left eye trying to relieve the pain somehow.

Gently, Dean pulled his hand away and said, "Let me see." Concern creased his brow and he cupped Sam's face, tilting the teenager's head so he could get a better view. Slowly, Sam opened his eye, which was rimmed with red from rubbing it. Dean looked carefully and spotted the problem. "It's an eyelash. Don't blink, it's right near the edge. Hold still, I'll be right back."

Dean stood and ran to the kitchen to retrieve a napkin. When he returned he saw Sam once again rubbing the eye.

"I said don't move." He huffed, getting back down on one knee beside the couch. "I think I got it out." Sam said, blinking away the weird feeling.

Dean laid the napkin down and used both hands to turn Sam's face back towards him. "Let me look." He instructed Sam to look up, down, over; which he did.

Sure enough, the eyelash was gone.

Relieved, Dean gazed intently at Sam's hazel eyes, while the other regarded him with a slight awkwardness at the close proximity. The older of the two marveled at the small specks of gold that lit up his brother's eyes. And he had surprisingly long, dark lashes. They were a girl's lashes but suited him perfectly nonetheless.

Suddenly the mood changed, and the taller man found himself face to face with an extremely embarrassed Sam. A blush bloomed across the boy's face and he dropped his eyes to avoid the now heated pair of twin emerald pools.

Dean ran his thumb across a rose colored cheek down to Sam's soft bottom lip. He lightly pressed it against Sam's lips, which parted, and smiled to himself. "You are such a virgin." He teased quietly.

Sam's eyes met Dean's and glinted defensively. But before he could say anything, Dean kissed him, pressing their mouths together. At first it was simply their lips touching; then when Sam didn't react, other than his eyes doubling in shock, Dean deepened the kiss.

He slipped his tongue into Sam's mouth and explored, finding the other's and working against it with a steady rhythm. Sam's eyes closed and Dean angled his head to plunge his tongue deeper, claiming unopposed dominance.

They kissed for a few more moments until Dean ended it, catching Sam's bottom lip carefully between his teeth and gently tugging. The boy moaned softly, his face flushed and his breaths rapid. Dean's own ragged breathing was audible and he inwardly urged himself to calm down.

Then it was as if an electric current ran from Sam's skin through Dean. The blonde realized all at once what has happening and dropped his hands and stood. What did I just do...

Sam's eyes slowly opened and, when he saw Dean's furrowed brow, he looked away, ashamed of his reaction.

"I'm sorry." Dean's tone made the apology sound less apologetic and more appalled.

The house was silent and pitch black in darkness except for the one light in that room; like the world didn't exist outside those four walls. But it did. And their father was somewhere out there.

Sam's expression was pained. His mouth was clamped shut and he looked like he wanted to run away.

Dean couldn't blame him. That had been crossing a line. "I'm so sorry." He said again, running a hand through his unruly hair.

Swallowing, the younger Winchester murmured, "Don't worry about it."

Looking at his brother, and realizing the only thing he wanted to do was hold him down and defile him in every way imaginable, Dean, filled with self-hatred, fled. The night was cold and damp, but it brought Dean back to his senses as he strode to his car.

It was too hot in that house; hot and closed in with Sam there.

Denial tried to chase away the dread building in Dean's stomach, but there was no diguising the truth. He'd just lip-locked with his little brother. He made him moan...

And that one memory had Dean ready to go.

The kissing wasn't the big issue. He could easily write it off in the morning as older sibling teasing getting a little out of hand, or a little 'teaching' for the poor virgin, or just a joke. Despite the way Sam reacted, he was sure the teen would be as quick to dismiss it as he was. No, that wasn't the problem.

The real problem was the fact that that one short kiss had Dean pitching a tent.

Being the playboy that he was, getting hard was never difficult for Dean. But all those girls, especially Lisa, would kill him if they knew that while they were doing it, Dean was playing the same memory over in his head... of Sam jerking himself off in the bathroom.

It was two years ago, and Dean happened to be walking by the bathroom door when he heard Sam's voice on the other side. It was a sound he'd never heard the boy make before, a hushed moaning that instantly turned the other boy's blood to fire. For roughly ten minutes, he sat ouside the door, listening intently to the gasps and groans on the other side, carefully rubbing his own erection to lessen the need he felt. He had never wanted to break a door down more in his entire life. But Sam was only fifteen, and his innocence would be no match for Dean's lust filled advances.

Since then, every time he had an erection it was because he was thinking of Sam. Taking him, corrupting him, savoring every last drop of innocence until it was all gone, washed away by blackened sin.

It was the worst thing that could have happened. Not because Dean took a step into forbidden territory; but because that one taste was enough to make him want more. If Dean hadn't had so much practice with self restraint, he would run back into that house and fuck Sam right now, whether he wanted him to or not.

Whether he wanted him to...

Dean laughed bitterly. A flashback to the look of pain and distress on Sam's face after that simple kiss stabbed regret into his chest and twisted the knife. It was unbearable to know that he was the cause of such hurt for his brother. The one person he cared about, wanted to protect, ...just wanted... more than anything.

Completely satisfied with the headway she was making, Diana stored the file and turned off her computer. If only night owling was a socially acceptable practice.

Que sera sera.

Excitement danced behind her closed eyelids as Diana curled up beneath a blanket and prayed sleep would take her. The sooner the teen left behind this day the sooner she could begin the next and return to her beloved work.