DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, I do not own Sam or Dean. They belong to Eric Kripke (lucky!) And I am just playing with the boys for my own twisted entertainment.

CHAPTER FOUR: TOUCH ME AGAIN

Dean shut his mouth, real quick, a look of confusion on his face. Slowly, he stood. "What are you talking about, Sammy?" Symptom number two? What the fuck?!

Sam watched Dean as he hesitantly started walking over to the bed where he lay. Quickly, Sam gripped the blanket that was thrown over his hips, worried that Dean would see what he had done. "I-I, uh, said 'symptom number two.'"

"Yeah, I heard what you said, Sammy, but what do you mean by that?" Slowly, Dean kneeled by the bed in front of Sam, looking into his slightly slanted, champagne hazel eyes; his own deep pools of jade full of worry and love for his little brother. However, the eye contact didn't last very long once Sam's eyes darted the the sheets. "Sam?"

"I was just thinking about how-how William died. Alone. In that Asylum." Tears filled Sam's eyes, but not for William, as he kept his eyes locked on the white sheet draped over him. He could tell Dean was still looking at him, waiting for the right time to step in and say the right thing. Slowly, Sam lifted his tear-filled gaze to his brother. "Dean, we have to stop this thing."

Biting his bottom lip, Dean nodded. "I know. We will. The second that bitch comes out of hiding, she's mine." Again, he nodded. "And I'll make her pay for all of the shit she did. I promise, Sammy." Dean reached out to touch Sam's arm for support, but Sam flinched away.

"Uh, I need to take a shower, Dean," Sam explained, quickly walking to the bathroom and locking himself in. Slowly, he turned on the water, fiddling with the nozzles to adjust the temperature to just the right degree. Finally, he stripped out of his messy boxers and climbed in, allowing the warm, soothing water to calm him.

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled up from his kneeling position. Running a hand down his face, he sighed, walking back over to the table to sit with Bobby again. "I want this bitch dead, Bobby," he ground out. "And I want to do it. Me. I want to see the look in her eyes when she realizes that she's trapped and I'm going to end her."

Bobby nodded. "Understood." He looked at the bathroom door, frowning. "Is Sam okay? I mean, he's acting a little weird about this whole thing, isn't he?" Again, Bobby looked at Dean, sighing when he saw the look of confusion on his face. "I just mean, he' still worried about that kid that died after Sam was in the hospital." He arched an eyebrow. "Does he usually do that?"

Shrugging, Dean turned his attention to one of the books Bobby had lying around the room. "You know Sam, he's always so...caring, or whatever. He was pretty broken up when we went to see the kid at the Asylum. Just couldn't understand how someones mother could abandon them and throw 'em in the looney bin." Dean looked at Bobby, knitting his brows and biting his bottom lip. "Symptom number two...symptom number--" His eyes grew wide with realization.

Bobby watched Dean as he thought, wondering what he was getting at. Then, he saw Dean's eyes grow wide as he realized something, but Dean wasn't talking. Finally, Bobby rolled his eyes, sighing. "Dean?!" Dean snapped his eyes up to meet Bobby's at the sound of his name. "What, boy?"

"Oh, uh, symptom number two," he answered. Bobby nodded, obviously still confused. "When we were first researching the case, Sam told me that there were symptoms to let people know that they were infected. Symptom number one was, uh, an odd obsession with someone you love. Symptom number two were dreams...a-about having sex with the person you're obsessed with."

Bobby shook his head. "You don't think Sam...is infected do you?" Bobby sighed when Dean didn't answer, knowing that by not answering he was really saying 'yes.' "Well, what are we going to do? There's no way to know for sure. He could have just been dreaming about something else. I'm sure you've had some dreams like that, Dean. Are you infected by a succubus?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on, Bobby, just trust me on this one. There was this thing that happened last night, too." Seeing that Bobby was looking at him to continue, Dean did. "Well, we were at the bar looking for this succubus and this waitress walked over. And she was hot. Anyway, I had it in the bag, Bobby, but then Sam ruined it. On purpose."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "How do you know he did it on purpose? What did he do? I'll determine if it was on purpose or not."

Again, Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, he spilled his beer on her." Bobby opened his mouth to say something, but Dean cut him off. "And I know that doesn't sound like something that was done on purpose, Bobby, but Sam's not a klutz. He doesn't spill things unless he wants to."

"He just got out of a coma, Dean! Give the boy some time to get his motor skills back before you go accusing him of being some succubus' bitch!" Dean shook his head, looking down at the table again. He seemed so sure about his theory, which made Bobby feel like a real ass. Sighing, he figured they should at least be sure. "All right, boy, how are we going to know for sure?"

"There's one more symptom," Dean answered. "Physical pain when you're not around your person of interest." Dean looked at Bobby. "So, if Sam begins to feel pain for no reason, then we'll know."

Bobby bit his lip. "Yeah, but Dean, there's one thing we're forgetting." Dean looked at Bobby confused. "Who's Sam's obsession? There's a lot of people that Sam loves. How are we going to know for sure who he's focusing on?"

"Sam said that the victim would become obsessed with the person they're closest to. The person in their life that means more to them than anyone." He grabbed the stack of papers that Sam had given him that first night they were researching, his brain not really wanting to work. "Uh, the first victim focused on his college teacher. The second on his landlord. The boss was the third victim's choice, and William focused on his mom."

"Dean!" Bobby yelled, causing him to jump. He had been saying his name the whole time Dean had been babbling about the victims' choices of people to become obsessed with, but Dean hadn't heard him. "If he's focusing on the person he's closest to, then he's probably focusing on--"

"Me," Dean interrupted, realization clear on his face. "Sam's probably obsessed with me." That sounded a little more conceited than Dean had intended it to, but there was no other way that he could think of to describe it. Slowly, Bobby nodded. "And I'm always around Sam so he probably won't experience the third symptom." Again, Bobby nodded. "Well, then I'll just leave for a while." Dean stood, grabbing his jacket as he walked to the door. "If Sam starts feeling pain, call me."

As Dean opened the door, a scream sounded from inside the bathroom. Dean's eyes snapped towards the bathroom door before meeting Bobby's. Slamming the door closed, Dean ran to the bathroom door. Locked. "Sammy?!" he yelled, pounding on the door. "Sam, open the door! Sam!" When Sam didn't open the door, Dean stepped back, raising his foot before he slammed it forward, causing the door to fly open. As soon as the door wasn't blocking them anymore, Bobby and Dean ran into the room.

Sam was laying on the floor, curled up in a ball, clutching at his chest. Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes when he saw that Sam was fully clothed. Sam had this obsession with getting dressed in the bathroom after Dean had put that itching powder in his boxers that one time. However, all thoughts of making fun of Sam flew out the window when he heard Sam cry out in pain again. Running over to his brother, he slid onto his knees, grabbing Sam's arms and pulling him to a keeling position in front of him. "Sam? Sammy, what's wrong?"

Sam gripped Dean's jacket, biting his bottom lip as Dean held him up. "N-Nothing, I just fell." Sam looked away from Dean, trying to stand, but Dean was still holding him.

Dean sighed, looking at Bobby. Yeah, sure he fell. "Okay, Sammy," he answered, letting go of his little brother. "Try to stop being so clumsy, okay?" He went to stand, but Sam yelled again. "What?! What's wrong with you?! And don't say nothing!"

Sam reached out, trying to grab a hold of Dean, but he was too far away. "Dean, please, ahh, touch me again." Sam desperately tried to grab onto Dean, but he couldn't move, and the pain in his chest was making him just want to pass out.

Dean kneeled back down in front of Sam, placing an open palm to Sam's chest, right over his heart. "Better?" he asked, his face full of worry. He felt Sam relax and grab the sleeve of his jacket. Slowly, Sam nodded. Again, Dean looked at Bobby before returning his gaze to Sam. "Sammy, I think you're under the influence of the succubus." Sam's eyes snapped open, full of shock and worry.

After all of that drama was over, Bobby had left the motel room to go around the town, looking to see if anyone knew anything about either the succubus or any of her victims, leaving the boys alone. Sam was more calm now, and didn't need Dean touching him to make the pain go away, but he did have to be in the same room. So, they sat in the kitchen, Sam on his computer and Dean leafing through a book that Bobby hadn't read through yet. Finally, Sam looked up, sighing.

"Dean, if I'm infected by the succubus, it had to have happened when we were fighting her the last time. You know...before I went into the coma." Dean nodded, not understanding where Sam was going with this. "And that was almost a month ago. So, why am I not dead."

Good point. And Dean had been asking himself that same question. So, he had done some research. "Well, I think it's because I didn't leave you." Seeing the look of confusion on Sam's face, Dean continued. "The first victim, fell for his teacher. When she found out, she had him removed from her class. The landlord, evicted the second victim. Third victim, fired by his boss. And, well, you know what happened to William." Sam nodded, looking away. Dean leaned forward, capturing Sam's eyes again. "Sammy, I'm not going to leave you."

Again, Sam nodded, a small smile pulling to his lips. "Yeah, I-I know that." Closing his eyes, Sam nodded again. "I know." The pain was back, and he wanted to cry out, but he needed to control it. "D-Dean," he started, his breathing increasing, "Can-Can you touch me again?" He smiled when he felt Dean touch his leg. Opening his eyes, however, his smile turned to a frown. "Dean, I'm not a footrest."

"Well you never told me how to touch you," Dean countered. "And my feet hurt. So deal with it." A smile pulled to his lips as he heard Sam huff, but Sam didn't push him away. Leaning back, Dean held his hands behind his head, closing his eyes. Softly, he kicked Sam in the arm. "Make yourself useful and give me a foot rub, Sammy."

Sam scoffed. "Seriously, Dean?!" He shook his head. "You want me to give you a foot rub?!" When Dean nodded, not even bothering to open his eyes, Sam huffed again. "Fine, Dean." Slowly, he took Dean's foot in his hand, massaging gently at first, then pushing his thumbs in deeper, rubbing harder. "Does-Does this feel right, Dean?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, feels fine." He leaned back in the chair, pressing his feet harder into Sam's all too talented fingers. "Mmmm...Sammy, you can press harder. I really hurt." Slowly, Dean opened his eyes, looking at his brother. Noticing that Sam was looking at him in a way that he could not read, he sat up, knitting his brows in concern. "Sammy, what's wrong?"

Sam looked away, blushing slightly. "N-Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I was just...thinking." Dean raised his brows, silently telling Sam to spill what was in his head. "I was thinking if you were sore, I-I could give you a massage." Sam's cheeks turned a darker shade of pink as he looked away from Dean again. "I-I mean if you wanted me to."

Dean frowned a little. Sure, he would have loved a massage, but from Sam? After all, they weren't fifteen anymore. Wouldn't that be weird? "Uh, Sam...I don't--I mean, we're not kids anymore." Sam nodded, trying to pretend that he didn't care and that he understood, but Dean could see right through him. Shit, he'd hurt Sam's feelings. What the hell? "You know what, Sammy, go ahead." When Sam looked up at him again, he nodded. "Come on, I'm all achy. But I'm not moving, so you have to come over here."

Smiling Sam stood, walking over to Dean and positioning himself behind his brother. Gently, he places his hands on Dean's shoulders, noticing that Dean's entire body tensed at the small movement. Frowning, Sam began to work all of the knots out of Dean's body. "Dean, relax," he complained, digging his fingers into the skin on Dean's back. "You're already tense enough. You're only making this harder."

Dean rolled his eyes as he tried to forget Sam was the one giving him this massage. After a while, it kind of worked, and he managed to be less tense than before. But still, there was that voice in the back of his head saying 'This is your brother! You're grown brother giving you this massage, you sicko!' He pushed the voice back, mentally yelling at himself to shut the hell up and just enjoy the damn massage. Suddenly, Sam's hands weren't on him anymore, and he was staring into slightly slanted, champagne hazel eyes. "What?" he asked, leaning back a little. "I thought you were going to give me a massage."

"I am, Dean," Sam answered, his hands coming up to massage Dean's thighs. As he felt Dean try to pull away, he fisted his jeans, holding him in place. "Calm down, you're fine. You said you wanted a massage, so I'm giving you one. A full body massage. Trust me, you need it."

Dean stared down at Sam who was thankfully waiting for some kind of reaction out of Dean before he continued with his full body massage. A back massage, Dean could handle, but having Sam's hands on every inch of his body massaging him? Wasn't that a bit odd? A little un-brotherly? But as he looked into Sam's eyes, he just couldn't find it in his heart to say no. Slowly, he nodded. "Okay, Sammy," he said. "But stay away from my ass." He relaxed, then tensed up again. "And my dick."

Slowly, Sam released his hold on Dean's jeans, nodding to let his brother know that he would stay away from the mentioned areas. Smiling, he began to run his hands over Dean's thighs, moving down his legs, all the way to his ankles, kneading the flesh in an attempt to get all of the knots out of Dean's body. He didn't bother with Dean's feet again since he had already given them attention earlier. Running his hands back up Dean's legs, Sam gently spread Dean's legs, slipping into the newly made gap.

Dean pushed himself back into the chair further, practically crawling up the back of it as Sam crawled between his legs. "Sam, what are you doing?" He had been very clear about the no touching of his dick. Very clear. And Sam nodded in approval. So what the fuck was he doing?

"Shhh," Sam shushed, gripping the hem of Dean's T-shirt and pulling him close again. "Upper body needs attention. I can only imagine how tense your upper body is." Slowly, Sam began to knead the flesh on Dean's sides, pushing hard sometimes and soft others. All the while, he was watching Dean's face. The way his eyes closed as Sam's fingers worked wonders on his body. How his lips parted when Sam would work out a particularly rough knot. And finally, Sam just couldn't take it anymore.

In one fluid motion, Sam thrust his hand up Dean's shirt, wrapping his arm around Dean's back, his open palm feeling the heat of his brother's skin as he held Dean close. Before Dean could say or do anything to protest, Sam pushed himself forward, capturing Dean's lips with his own.