A/U: Looks like we're going the wincest route. I can never resist. It will be a very slow development I'm sure, but it will be around. Besides that I'm not sure what to say about this chapter. I didn't spend much time on it, and it's probably full of errors, maybe a little slow, but hopefully readable. I'm sorry, I hate it when people downgrade their work, just read it and tell me what you think. And MissTTucker here's the explanation you've been wantin

Warnings: most mildest of wincest, language, and descriptive explanation of medical procedure.

Dean woke to a heavy, very hot weight covering his body. Way too many blankets, he thought, or maybe his duffle had ended up on the bed on top of him, full of weapons and clothes alike. Or maybe Bobby's dog had jumped up and was laying on him. Strange conclusions to come to, he knew, especially since Bobby's mutt had died years ago, but ones his sleep-fogged mind reached nonetheless.

That was until he cracked his eyes open and set himself straight, realizing this heavy thing was no dog or duffle, it was Sam, and it wall all of him. Dean could hardly breathe; Sam had his arms folded under his head and over Dean's chest, his hips had fallen between Dean's legs – snug and right there, meeting places of Dean he never imagined his brother would know – and his legs were intertwined with his, from thigh to ankle.

It was like Sam had gotten tired of the mattress during the night and decided to use Dean instead.

And the scariest part of it all was Dean didn't mind the weight, the heat, the closeness at all. He relished it, the contact: he liked the feel of curvy, hardened muscles rising and falling on top of him. And right now, he was currently sporting some serious morning wood to match the hardened length of his brother, the one he could feel running up his crotch.

And holy shit that was enough for him. Reality broke through that fogged mind and he was almost jumping to get Sam off.

"Sam." Dean said quietly, placing a hand on his ribs to shake him, "Sam c'mon wake up." He urged, voice gravelly and gritty with sleep. He wanted him off, but he wasn't about to shove him across the bed to get him there, so he was gentle.

Thankfully it worked anyway and Sam began to stir.

"Uh-uh." He mumbled his protest into Dean's chest and shifted slightly against him, rolling his hips. The unconscious movement sent heat ricocheting through Dean's body as their cocks slid against each other, the only barrier being the thin fabric of their boxers. He actually had to stifle the groan, knee-jerk reaction that almost escaped him; so he bit down on his lip.

But then it was only a matter of few seconds before Sam realized the bed he was laying on was moving and had a thundering heartbeat pumping up into his chest. "Whoa, what the fuck!" He yelled, quickly shoving up and off of Dean scampering to the other side of the bed.

"Easy man, don't rip your stitches. Just take it easy." Dean calmed holding up his hands to hopefully cool Sam down and relay some confidence that it was okay, whether he felt it was or not.

Sam calmed down marginally and sat back against the headboard, taking a few deep breaths to calm his erratic heart. Eventually, he turned to look at his brother, "Sorry Dean," He said, voice high and still laced with surprise, "I didn't-I don't ever remember…well, just, sorry." He finished choppily, still sounding more stunned than anything.

"Dude don't worry about it." Dean laughed, shaking off his own surprise of the moment and chuckling at the sheer level of sincerity in Sam's voice, "How you ever pulled that snuggle bear move last night and kept me asleep is completely beyond me though." He laughed again gently shaking his head as he swung his legs out of bed.

"Yeah, really. Must be loosin' your touch tough guy," He teased, "Any old shape shifter or vampire could've come in here last night and just laid on top of you. You wouldn't have even twitched." He snickered and climbed out of bed himself.

"Laugh it up geek boy. You're the one who was cuddlin' with your big brother last night. I'm takin' a shower." He said with a smirk and huddled up a bundle of clothes before escaping to the bathroom.

He shut the door quickly and fell back against it in the same beat, tossing his clothes onto the sink counter.

What the hell was that about?

He thought to himself worriedly as he slipped off his boxers and night shirt.

Seriously, what the fuck Dean? That's your brother you were just turned on by.

He scorned noticing then that his hard-on was no less prominent now than it had been with all that heat pressed up against him – his brother's heat, he reminded himself.

God, he couldn't even bring himself to jack off and properly get rid of his arousal like he did every other morning, knowing where this had sprung from – no pun intended.

He turned the water as cold as it could go and forced himself under the freezing spray. His teeth immediately started chattering, but after a few minutes, his dick admitted defeat and slowly softened, returning to its rightful place between his legs.

"Oh, thank g-god." He breathed and added heat to the water rushing through the rest of the shower.

Dean decided to let the incident disappear completely from his mind after dressing and heading out to the kitchen. There were more important things to deal with after all, he could chalk this up to a number of things. All of which certainly did not point to him being a completely fucked up older brother.

No sought-out distractions were necessary though to put his words into action as he stepped into the kitchen. The doctor, Meyer, was sitting at the head of the table in the middle of the kitchen.

"Oh, morning Dean." He greeted quietly, moving away from the almost empty plate of waffles before him to stand awkwardly. Dean didn't say anything but moved to the fridge in favor of seeking out his own breakfast, opting not to strike up conversation with the man. Lord knows what he'd say this time if he did.

"Look I'm sorry about last night," He tried when he didn't respond. But Dean didn't give an inch and simply kept rummaging through the drawers, "I shouldn't have said those things. It's all just theory and I went into that whole 'doctor mode' just rambling my thoughts. I was intrigued with the impossibility of these medical advancements that I never thought could be made…point is I was caught up in it and forgot how sensitive the issue is. It was basically me just-"

"Dude." Dean said whipping up to put his hand out in a gesture to shut him up, it worked. "Just stop. You're sorry. Got it." He dropped his hand, "It's alright. But for future reference…you ever tell me something like that again, the way you did, I will not be held accountable for shutting you up myself. If there's something I need to know, I want it as sugar coated and vague as you can possibly get it, understand?" He asked pushing aside the fact that he had little right to be bossing orders. Meyer was there of his own accord and could leave them all to flounder on their own at any moment, but at that moment he didn't care – if he was going to be here, he needed to watch his mouth.

Thankfully Meyer just nodded to Dean tightly and said, "Of course," before taking his plate to the sink and washing it off. Dean sighed, little tendrils of guilt slithering up his spine as he grabbed an orange and left the room for more distraction. He'd go see why Sam wasn't down yet.

Bobby entered the kitchen intent on making his morning cup of coffee when he was greeted with Meyer already up, washing dishes in the sink.

"Mornin' Meyer." Bobby said gruffly, "You don't gotta do that, I can have Dean do 'em later." He smiled to himself as he started up the coffee machine.

"Actually I was thinking you could ask him to go buy groceries today or something. Get him out of the house for a little while." He answered continuing on with his scrubbing. That stopped Bobby's task for a moment and caught his attention as he turned around to face the back of his friend.

"And why exactly would I do that?"

"Because I need to talk to Sam." He said calmly as he turned around drying off the last plate, "And he won't leave his side long enough for me to do it alone."

"I don't see any problem with that. Why would you need to talk to him alone?"

"Because Dean specifically asked me not to let him hear anything graphic or unnecessary about the situation. And I need to ask Sam about the last procedure. The one he was awake for." he explained, still calm as ever.

"What?" Bobby exclaimed, "No, no you don't. Don't you dare. It was bad enough the first time, you're gonna ask him to relive it?" He scowled voice grumbling heatedly.

"I need to know what happened." He stressed, "Or at least what he thought happened, what he felt. And before you start yelling at me again, it's important or you know I wouldn't ask." He said giving him a pointed look, "I need to know because…honestly these episodes could be nothing, just a normal bodily reaction that's essentially harmless. But it could also be an allergic reaction or a reaction to infection or a dozen other things that are not at all harmless so unless you want me to perform a very invasive procedure of my own and see what the bastard did for myself, I need to ask him." He said his voice growing stronger and more strained to remain calm as he went on.

And Bobby couldn't argue with that one. When it came to one of these boys' safety, there wasn't much he'd refuse to do.

"And also I doubt Sam would say much with his brother around anyway." Meyer added to resolve his request. Bobby nodded.

"True." He hesitated, "Alright. I'll ask him to go pick up a few things, but if Sam wants to tell him what we did or tell him whatever he tells us you're not stopping him."

"Obviously." Meyer answered simply.

Dean had walked into their room to see Sam had fallen back asleep, jeans halfway on but not buttoned around his waist, one sock on, and the other hanging from his limp hand, like he'd passed out in the middle of getting dressed. He would've found the sight pretty hilarious had the situation been less tense and worrisome. He rushed to his side and shook his shoulder gently, "Sam?"

Sam's eyes fluttered and snapped open as he tried to shoot upright, but Dean held him down and shushed him. "Hey you're okay." He said quietly, "Just makin' sure you hadn't passed out or something. If you're tired man sleep. There's nothing better to be doing around here anyway." He told him as Sam settled back into the bed.

Dean smiled fondly at his little brother, half reassured because he hadn't fainted, and half freaked that he was so tired he almost fell back asleep instantly when he relaxed again.

But then he guessed if his body had been through what Sam's had, he'd want to grab every second of sleep he could too. So he let it go, softly working Sam's pants back off without waking him any more than he had to, and tugging the comforter from under his legs to place it back over him.

He quickly made his way from the room and decided to try for a real breakfast this time, hoping Meyer would be out of there now as he quietly padded down the stairs. He stopped just short of the kitchen though when he heard intense voices talking in hushed tones from inside.

And man, this felt so familiar he almost couldn't stay hidden to eavesdrop again, he felt too guilty. But then he caught his name in there and well, how could he not listen then?

"…because Dean specifically asked me not to let him hear anything graphic or unnecessary about the situation." He heard Meyer's monotone voice explaining, "And I need to ask Sam about the last procedure. The one he was awake for."

Oh fuck no. There was no way he was letting Meyer put his little brother through that hell again. Dean grinned slightly when he heard Bobby voice his thoughts and told Meyer there was no chance in hell he was doing it. But then as he listened on Meyer's reasoning won over Bobby, and he had to admit, himself too. Because it was Sam's health, and he'd trusted Meyer when he said he thought the episodes were nothing harmful. But now hearing that he honestly didn't know, that it could be something dangerous, well that scared the hell out of Dean. He'd already reassured Sam that this was nothing to worry about, he couldn't be wrong. Not now.

He quickly moved away from the kitchen once he heard the conversation end and escaped to the bathroom upstairs. He closed the door behind him, breathing heavily but quietly through his nose to calm down and process all he'd heard.

Bobby was going to ask him to go out, run an errand or something, and then they'd talk to Sam.

Well fuck if he was letting that happen. He would be here when Sam told them, if he was resorting to eavesdropping, hovering, hiding the shadows again, so be it. He'd be there for his little brother.

It was a mere twenty minutes later when the inevitable request came and Bobby asked him to run out and grab food for lunch, that they were out of lunch meat for sandwiches or some bull shit. So Dean got in his car and waited about thirty seconds before racing out and back inside as silently as he could, making sure every room was empty before flying through them. He was outside his and Sam's closed bedroom door in a matter of seconds.

Bobby was thankful it hadn't taken much effort to get Dean out of the house as Meyer and he walked into Sam's room and quietly shut the door behind them. Bobby pushed Meyer back as he advanced to wake the sleeping boy and instead made his way over to Sam's side taking a soft seat on the chair by the bedside.

"Sam?" He asked, his voice hushed. A part of him hoped Sam wouldn't wake so they couldn't do this, he really didn't want to know about it remembering what Dean had said: Sam screaming, thrashing, in that much pain. There wasn't even the smallest part of him that wanted to do this.

But Sam's eyes fluttered open after a moment anyway and crushed his hope as they flitted up to meet his, half-lidded and hazed with confusion. "Hey kid, sorry to wake ya." He grumbled still keeping quiet so as to not completely shatter the deafening silence surrounding his words, "But Meyer needs to talk with you a minute." He said as he looked from Sam's puzzled gaze to his friend, still hovering by the door.

Meyer took his cue and stepped forward until he was seated in the chair beside Bobby's. He took a deep breath, shot a fleeting glance toward the closed door and opened his mouth to speak when Sam interrupted.

"Where's Dean?" He asked pushing himself further upright and rubbing a knuckle in his eye, "Why couldn't this have waited a couple hours? What time is it?" He continued turning to steal a peek at the clock, his brow shooting up when he saw the time.

"Dean's out gettin' lunch, this couldn't wait cause it's important and it's a little after eleven." Bobby fired off without missing a beat as Sam resettled in his bed, folding his legs Indian style under him.

He couldn't believe it was half past eleven, sleeping that late was like sleeping all day for a Winchester.

"Okay then. Shoot." He said tentatively, looking at Meyer with wary in his eyes.

Meyer gave him an equally guarded look in return before sighing, "Sam these episodes you've had…I don't think they're anything serious or life threatening, but in order for me to really judge I need to know what exactly is happening. There could be injuries I don't know about or things that happened before that could be influencing what's happening now, and I need to know." He explained, easing his way into the conversation, but Sam just looked at him expectantly obviously hoping he'd stop beating around the bush and just ask whatever he needed to ask already.

So he obliged just as ready to spit it out as Sam apparently was to hear it, "I need you to describe what happened when the doctor performed the second procedure. Or at least what you think he did, I know you don't know exactly because he never fully explained, but just be as detailed as you can. Please," he added remembering his manners, "this is important." Meyer finished, taking on his full professional doctor persona again to try and emotionally detach himself from the conversation.

"Uh, why?" Sam stammered quietly, avoiding eye contact, "It was nothing, I'm fine. It doesn't have anything to do with what's happening now." He said stupidly, knowing full well that everything that'd happened with the doc was causing what happened now.

"It could have everything to do with what's happening now. The ultrasound did the best it could to give me a picture, but I'd need an MRI or CT to really understand what he did, which both could potentially harm the fetuses or you, and since I can't do that, the only other option - if I don't just ask you - is to use a camera and look for myself. Which…I'm sure you'd rather not have me do as much as I'd rather not put you through it." He concluded, huffing a short breath and folding his hands in his lap as he leaned forward, hoping everything he'd said made sense. Because he honestly wasn't sure.

Sam was eerily silent for a minute, debating his options through his still mildly sleep-muddled mind. He eventually looked up to Meyer, eyes wide and trying desperately to stay neutral as he made up his mind – or had it made for him. However you wanted to look at it.

"Obviously I don't have much of a choice here." He said, his stern, chilled gaze fixed on the doctor before a less hard, more frightened one flickered over to Bobby. He looked away just as quickly though, his face flushed red as he averted his eyes to his hands.

God, he did not want to be talking about this with anyone let alone his oldest, closest family friend. But Bobby seemed to realize that as he stood and clapped his hands on his thighs, "I think I'll go get a…beer." He said coming up with a reason to excuse himself on the spot before he patted Sam's shoulder gently and walked across the room, pushing open the door and swinging it closed behind him.

Dean had made it to the bathroom in the nick of time when he'd heard Bobby's footsteps approaching the door, heart thundering in his chest at almost blowing his cover. He stayed hidden until he heard the footsteps descend the stairs and then his hand immediately grabbed for the door handle, ready to take his place outside their room again. But he hesitated.

Oh, this is wrong.

Eavesdropping on his brother as he described what was sure to be one of the most invasively personal and horrific experiences of his life?

Really wrong.

He wanted to be there for Sam, not to abuse his trust and get information by hiding in the shadows. He thumped against the door and slid down until he was on his butt, wrapping his arms loosely around his knees as he waited in silence, hoping he'd be able to go see his brother soon.

Neither Sam or Meyer mentioned Bobby's absence once he was gone and the room remained silent for a good thirty seconds before the doctor prompted him to start again.

Sam sighed, his eyes, that were until then full of various different emotions, grew cold and distant, like he was withdrawing himself from the situation before he began, looking up to stare at the wall before him,

"The doc meant to knock me out for it. He wanted me on a surgical table or something, but they ran out of anesthetics," Sam's eyes remained dark and so empty they almost frightened Meyer, along with his voice, so hollow. But he didn't stop him and instead waited patiently until he spoke again, reminding himself this was important, "He just said time was of the essence and started anyway. I was standing up sort of, you know, hanging from the ceiling, so he got behind me…on a chair or something and he had a tray of supplies next to him. I tried to see what was on it before he started, but all I saw were metal tools I didn't recognize and a long, flexible…hose, I guess. Then he started and I didn't have a chance to look any closer."

The grave monotone of Sam's voice had Meyer on the edge of his seat, wanting to bolt from the room and erase the last few minutes to get rid of the sound. But he didn't. He waited again and instead tried to regain some of the same emotional detachment Sam had.

"He…put something in me," The boy continued keeping his eyes glued to the blank white wall before him, "It was just uncomfortable at first, but then something started clicking like he was cranking a wheel or something. And whatever it was got bigger, I think he was making room to…work." He stopped and looked down, that emotional distance faltering ever so slightly, but he slowly exhaled a long breath and brought his eyes back up, hard and empty again, "Next I felt something metal and then pressure, and then stinging like he was cutting me. But it was deep…in me, so it was different…I don't know how it felt. It just stung and pulled, I guess, and that went on for a while." Meyer's stomach rolled uncomfortably, that was the stitching; he was sure. God to be awake through that, he just couldn't imagine.

"Once he was done with that, he pulled the stuff out, and I can only guess he used that plastic tube cause something else went in, and it just kept going, I actually thought I might die…" He admitted almost surprised at the revelation, but he made sure to quickly return the terse distance in his eyes, "And my stomach started cramping, like it has now, but worse and then I heard something…sounded like he was putting something up the tube and then I don't what he did, I couldn't feel anything besides that pressure, but he kept me like that for a few minutes before he was done."

Sam concluded finally looking at Meyer, still so void of…anything. Like the conversation had drained him of any human emotion at all. The sight scared him and he found himself suddenly really wishing Dean was here. He quickly stood, "Sam, thank you. I know this was…well, just, thank you." He muttered quietly, "You did really good. Helped a lot." He said sincerely before leaving to gather his thoughts…and to get a beer. Or a double shot of whiskey, he'd decide when he got there.

He was passing the bathroom to get downstairs when he heard a scuffling on the other side of the door. It wouldn't have caught his attention if he hadn't heard someone shut the fridge downstairs at the same time. His heart leapt, he guessed Dean was back and quickly continued down to the kitchen to tell him to go see Sam.

He was surprised when he reached the kitchen and saw Bobby at the table nursing his second beer. He jumped up from his chair when Meyer walked in, "How'd he do. He okay?" Bobby asked in one quick breath. Meyer's brow crumpled,

"Did come in while I was gone?" He asked ignoring the questions.

"No, not that I saw. I didn't hear the car or the door." Bobby offered equally confused now, "Why?"

Meyer didn't answer that question either but headed back up the stairs, Bobby in tow. He noticed the bathroom door was open now and the small room empty. They both continued to the end of the hall and to Sam and Dean's room. The door was closed.

Bobby looked at Meyer expectantly; his brow raised as he tried to figure out what exactly they were doing. Meyer held up a finger to him and leaned an ear against the door, quieting his breathing to listen closely.

A quiet muffled crackle sounded from the other side. Like the comforter rustling on the bed, "Heya Sammy," He heard, then a quiet sob, "Sh, sh." He heard, then some a few more nonsense words of comfort and rustling of sheets.

He could've sworn he heard the crack slither up his heart as it broke and fell in two.

"Dean never left." He whispered almost silently to his friend as they each retreated quietly, leaving the boys to do what they did best and heal each other.