Sam opened his mouth to speak but no words came out as NotDean's body toppled to the side and the creature's cock slid out of his ass with an audible squelch.

Sam just stared at his older brother. Dean had aged since Sam last saw him. He looked dangerous; weathered and panting, splattered with his doppelganger's blood as he slowly lowered the giant blade then kicked the naked corpse to the floor.

"Dean," Sam croaked, finally finding his voice.

"Sammy," Dean growled, his tone roughened by shock and exertion, his eyes flickering around the room to take in the entire scene before him.

Hearing Dean say his name made Sam hyper-aware of the display his brother had walked in on. He scrambled back on the bed, desperately trying to cover himself. He felt NotDean's come leaking out of his ass as he moved. "Dean," he repeated, "Oh, God." Then Sam was violently ill over the side of the bed.

When Sam's body stopped heaving Dean was still just standing there at the foot of the bed, jaw set in a hard line. Sam couldn't meet his eyes.

"I didn't think you'd ever find me," he wept, waves of relief alternating with even stronger waves of shame. "I'd given up all hope."

"I'll always find you, Sammy," his brother replied, a trace of warmth in his tone. "I just didn't expect to find...this." He cocked his head to indicate Sam, the bed, and the naked, headless body at his feet.

Sam heaved again at his brother's words, but he had nothing left in his stomach to empty.

"I'd say I can explain," Sam answered between convulsions, "but I don't think I can." He curled into a fetal ball and pulled the ruined sheets over himself, self-disgust radiating from him in waves.

"Doesn't matter, Sammy," Dean cajoled. "What does matter is us getting the fuck out of here and burning this place to the ground." He hesitated, clearly trying to find the words. "Do you want to, um...clean up here or...?"

Sam just moaned and curled tighter in on himself until Dean's sharp tone pierced his shell of self-recrimination.

"We gotta go, Sam."

"Okay," Sam replied, slowly uncurling his long limbs. "Give me five minutes." He knew he had to wash away as much of the creature's fluids as he could, but also knew he'd likely never feel entirely clean again. "But first, could you..?" Sam made a cutting gesture with his hand.

Dean placed the huge blade carefully on the end of the bed and pulled out a small silver knife which he used to slice his forearm.

Sam was so relieved when he saw the thin stripe of red that he flung himself into Dean's arms, heedless of his naked, blood soaked, come-dripping state. Dean hugged him back, awkwardly at first, but then leaned in to it and held Sam close. Both brothers turned at the sound of a throat being cleared and they pulled back, suddenly reminded of Sam's clothing-challenged state. An unfamiliar bearded man stood in the doorway.

"All clear," he drawled in a thick Louisiana accent, then withdrew.

Dean pushed Sam away from him gruffly but with affection, "You clean up. I'm gonna find some clean clothes. It seems like there should be some around here that fit me." Sam's stomach clenched hard at the reference, but he managed to make it to the bathroom without retching.

The two Winchesters sat side by side in the Impala as Dean put as much distance as possible between them and the burning warehouse that had been Sam's prison for the past nine months. Sam was floored when he saw the date on Dean's phone, not believing he could have been held captive for so much time without being able to escape. Dean seemed almost as happy to see Baby as he'd been to find Sam and explained that when they'd lost Sam's trail two towns over, it was tracking the classic car the finally led them to him.

The words that weren't being said were louder than any that the brothers spoke, but Dean cut Sam off any time he started to explain the scene Dean had walked in on. "Doesn't matter, Sammy," was the refrain he kept hearing until he bundled himself into the stale-smelling blanket he'd hauled from the trunk and tried to get some sleep. Sam was still shaking from the shame of what his brother had seen. He'd let Dean down so many times over the years, but he'd never felt like more of a failure than he did in that moment.

The slam of the heavy steel door jarred Sam out of his slumber, and he sat up as Dean held out a bottle of water, a microwave burrito and a couple of pills. He took the water bottle in shaking fingers and frowned at the pills. Dean shook them at him encouragingly, "Listen, Sammy. They were drugging you for a long time. I found detailed records of the doses you were getting so I grabbed a bunch of the medicine. We should wean you off gradually so the withdrawal isn't so bad."

Sam just shook his head at the proffered pills. "I can't, Dean."

"Don't be a martyr, Sam. You had this crap in your system for nearly a year," Dean intoned, frowning.

"You saw what they made me become, Dean." Sam's voice broke. "I can't let them keep their claws in me." He huddled down deeper into the blankets, looking so much smaller than a man of his height should be able to look.

"This is going to be rough, Sam. Demon blood rough."

"I know, Dean, and I kicked that." Sam flinched at the muttered, "Barely," that he wasn't supposed to hear.

Dean pocketed the pills but threw the burrito into Sam's lap. "Take at least a couple bites for me, okay, Sam. I want to try to get you somewhere comfortable before the worst hits and having some food in your stomach will make you stronger."

They drove straight from Texas to Rufus' cabin in Montana, stopping only for Dean to grab a handful of hours sleep in a rest stop before continuing on. Dean left Sam's quaking form in the car as he quickly loaded up on food and supplies then made a beeline for the hunter's property. Sam leaned heavily on Dean as they negotiated the steps and entered the cabin, only making it as far as the couch before Sam collapsed. Dean piled him with blankets and settled in for a long, tough wait.

It took seven days of Sam sweating, shaking, puking, and convulsing to come out the other side. Dean tended to his brother and slept fitfully in a nearby chair, looking nearly as haggard as Sam did at the end of the agonizing week. When it was apparent Sam could look manage on his own, Dean convinced him to move to the camp bed then collapsed face-first on the shabby couch and slept for fourteen hours straight.

Sam was cooking breakfast when Dean roused himself and stared blearily at his younger brother, who was damp from the shower and dressed in real clothes for the first time in more than a week.

"You hungry?" Dean asked, hopefully.

"Not really," came the reply, "but I knew you needed to eat and thought I'd see what I could choke down."

Sam was wearing a long-sleeved stretch t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up as he cooked and Dean's eyes locked on the scars that adorned his younger brother's wrists. Sam caught his gaze, frowned, and quickly pulled the fabric down to cover the marks.

They ate in silence - Dean ate ravenously and Sam nibbled half a piece of toast - then cleaned up. Dean threw all the filthy bedding into the ancient washer then hung it to dry on the outdoor lines as Sam swept. The brothers then sat on the couch to watch a movie with Dean giving Sam worried sidelong glances every now and then until Sam paused the movie and stared pointedly at Dean, who returned his eyes to the screen.

The next few weeks passed in a similar fashion and the Winchesters gradually fell back into their former routine: camaraderie, teasing and gentle abuse mixed with multiple heated arguments (Sam's decision not to look for Dean and that he'd stopped hunting were the main topics). Sam slept a lot and Dean worked on his beloved car, muttering under his breath about the bastards who'd left her neglected under a tarp for most of a year. Sam slowly lost his haunted look though he was still alarmingly thin and Dean stopped reacting to every small sound as if it were about to attack. Anytime Dean tried to bring up Sam's imprisonment the younger man quickly redirected the conversation to Dean's time in purgatory and he gradually learned about Dean's experience in Hell's suburb.

They were playing cards one night when a particularly decisive win cracked Sam's face into the first true smile Dean had seen since his return. The flash of dimples and bright white teeth pierced his heart and something caught in Dean's chest. Sam's smile turned to a look of concern but Dean just held up his hand.

"Shit, Sammy. It's just such a relief to see you smile like that." Dean blinked back the tears that threatened to form. "I wasn't sure I was ever going to see that again, and I'm so glad those fuckers weren't able to take it from you."

Sam frowned and looked at the floor at the mention of his imprisonment and exactly what had been taken from him.

"Stop it, Sam," Dean admonished. "It's not your fault. They did it, not you."

"But I-" Sam started but Dean cut him off.

"I fucked you in Hell," he blurted, eyes widening at his own confession.

"Wha-What do you mean?"

Dean shook his head and studied his fingernails. He took a big breath and continued, "I fucked you in Hell. Every day. Often multiple times a day. So you can just cut it out with the whole shame-spiral thing."

"Dean," Sam breathed.

Dean took a huge swig of beer and stared at the wall straight ahead of him. "I fought so hard at first. I struggled and screamed, tried to think of the worst things imaginable, anything so I wouldn't get hard, so they couldn't make me do that to my baby brother." His deep voice was harsh with emotion, "But they'd pulled the torture from my own brain. They found the memory I tried so hard to hide away. Of you. Your mouth." He ran a hand quickly over his face. "You probably don't even remember."

"You think I don't remember secretly blowing my drunk brother?" Sam stood up and huffed out a breath at Dean's epic cluelessness. "That's the kind of thing that sticks with you."

Dean also stood and glared at Sam. "You know what else sticks with you, Sammy?" he snarled, "Fucking your little brother every day for forty years. Doing every possible sick, disgusting, depraved thing they - and eventually you - can think of to the only person you have ever truly loved in your entire waste of a life. And loving it. I fucking loved it!" he screamed.

They stood staring at one another for a few long seconds then Sam closed the distance between them in three long strides and took Dean in his arms. The older man fought the embrace and pounded his fists against Sam's back until he finally collapsed into the unrelenting grip. "I'm so sorry," Sam whispered in his ear, wrapping one large hand around the back of Dean's head and tucking him in under his chin. "So sorry," he repeated, kissing the top of Dean's head before tilting the shorter man's head back and looking straight into the pools of green he'd worshiped his whole life. "So sorry," Sam said again and pressed his mouth to Dean's, kissing him softly and repeatedly until he felt his brother begin to kiss him back.

Wounded moans escaped from Dean's lips as Sam continued his tender assault. "Shh," Sam reassured him between kisses. "It's okay." They were moving now, Sam walking Dean backwards across the small room as the older man opened his mouth and the kisses became heated and wet. When they reached the small camp bed, Sam pressed Dean down and climbed on top of him.

"What are we...We can't...Sammy," Dean protested, though his pupils were wide with arousal and his tongue continued to plunge into the wet heat of Sam's sweet mouth between words.

"We can, Dean," Sam answered, tracing his thumb along Dean's bottom lip and dragging it down a little. Dean instinctively angled his mouth to capture Sam's digit, closing his eyes and humming lightly as he suckled. Sam gasped but continued, "We've each done this before. Others have forced us because they know it's something we've always wanted deep down. But that wasn't us. They twisted our feelings into something ugly. I don't want ugly. I want something pure. I want to be with iyou/i." His hand dipped lower to brush against his brother's hardness. "It feels like you want it too, but I'll stop if you don't." Sam paused and looked into Dean's eyes. "Do you want me to stop?"

Dean replied by slamming his mouth against Sam's and rolling them until he was the one on top. The bed frame creaked ominously under their combined weight and Dean pulled back. Sam looked dismayed as his older brother stood up but grinned when Dean pulled him to his feet. "C'mon. The bed in the attic is a lot bigger and I don't think this one will stand up to what I'm planning to do to you."

They wrestled their way up the narrow staircase trying simultaneously to reach the top first and rid themselves of a few pesky layers of clothing. Stripped down to his boxers, Sam held his arms up in victory when he reached the top and was tackled from behind by Dean, knocking him face-first onto the bed.

"I think I like this view, baby brother," Dean growled into his ear before biting the nape of Sam's arched neck. Sam's cock twitched at the nickname, feeling not the sickness caused by the shapeshifter using the name, but a low, deep twist of pleasure.

Dean thrust his cotton-clad erection in the crease of Sam's ass a few times, eliciting moans from both of them. He then sat back and stroked his spread fingers along the contours of Sam's back before slipping his fingers under the waistband and pulling Sam's boxers down and off. He palmed the firm globes of Sam's ass admiringly before sinking his teeth into one cheek. Sam yelped then rolled over, laughing, and Dean was face to face with Sam's flat abdomen and impressive cock. He touched his tongue unconsciously to his lower lip. "Shit, Sammy," he murmured before ghosting his lips along the velvety length; not licking nor sucking, but mapping out the contours with his perfect, plump mouth.

"Dean," Sam called, interrupting Dean's reverie. "Turn around. I want you too."

A gorgeous, wanton smile crossed Dean's lips as he realized what Sam was suggesting. "I like how you think, Sammy." He stripped his underwear off and reversed his position so his head was still at Sam's cock but his own leaking member was dangling over Sam's face. "Oh fuck," he moaned as Sam's hot mouth encased the head of his prick then sucked him down. Dean could barely breathe, let alone think with Sam's mouth wrapped around him, but he grabbed the fat length in front of him and lapped lightly at the bead of pre-come forming at the slit.

Sam groaned around Dean's thick cock as he felt his older brother's first tentative licks then broader tongue strokes along the length of his shaft. What Dean lacked in experience, he made up for in bravado and within minutes he was attempting to deep throat Sam's prick. "Slow down, Dean," Sam sputtered as the older Winchester gagged around him, "just copy what I'm doing to you." He grabbed the lower shaft of Dean's cock in his hand and swirled his tongue around the head. He felt Dean duplicate the motion and Sam moaned his approval. Dean did the same and the vibrations coursed through Sam's shaft. Sam continued to teach through example and quick study that he was, Dean soon had him gasping and whimpering beneath him.

Sam was gently rolling Dean's balls in his hand when he felt them contract and he opened his throat to swallow the hot, salty load. Dean pulled off Sam's cock for a deep breath just as Sam's orgasm hit and Sam painted his older brother's pretty features with thick strands of come.

Dean turned his head to look at Sam, jaw open in shock. Sam's jaw also dropped open then a predatory gaze crossed his angular features and he dove at Dean, pinning him to the mattress with long limbs and devouring his perfect mouth. Sam licked and nipped at Dean's pink lips until they were red and swollen then he lapped at the streaks of his own come and fed it all into Dean's welcoming mouth. Dean sucked their combined flavour off Sam's tongue with a low moan.

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean muttered when he could form words again.

"Yeah," Sam agreed and flopped down, blanketing his brother's body with his own.

They dozed for a few minutes until Dean pushed Sam off to lie face down beside him. "Even scrawny as you are right now, you're still a bit heavy for a blanket, kiddo." Sam just grumbled into the pillow as he lay boneless with pleasure. Dean smacked Sam's bare ass and was rewarded with another lazy grumble. The older Winchester grinned wickedly and moved until he was kneeling between Sam's legs.

He kneaded the firm muscles of Sam's ass then parted the cheeks to display the rosy pucker nestled in the centre. The younger Winchester stirred as the cool air hit and Dean saw the delicate skin clench at the assault. He stroked one finger soothingly over the affronted tissue and then Dean bent forward and pressed his warm tongue to Sam's entrance, smiling as he heard his brother gasp. At Sam's positive response he spread the skin wide with his thumbs and began to work the tight little bud with his tongue. Dean stroked and caressed the area with his hot tongue until the skin became soft and pliant, and he was able to slip the muscle into the musky heat at Sam's core.

"Mmmmm," Sam sighed as he felt Dean's tongue breach the outer ring of muscle and skate inside.

Dean formed his tongue into a dart and fucked it in and out of Sam's quivering hole, spurred on by Sam's cries and whimpers until he was able to slide one finger in to join his tongue. Sam moaned and squirmed and bucked his hips wildly at the welcome invasion.

"More," he panted, but Dean did just the opposite and slid his finger out, leaving Sam feeling empty and abandoned.

"Be right back, Sammy," Dean called over his shoulder as he tore down the rickety wooden staircase and Sam stared incredulously at the flowered pillowcases in front of his face as he heard Dean crash around for about a minute then thunder back up the stairs.

"I should have been a Boy Scout," Dean bragged brandishing a bottle of lubricant. "I stole it from the bunker for my private time. Be Prepared, and all that."

"I don't think you should be mentioning Boy Scouts while holding a bottle of lube, Dean," Sam admonished. "Now get back here while my ass is still open for business."

Dean gave his brother a saucy wink and settled back down between his spread legs. "Now where was I?" he murmured against Sam's skin. "Was I here?" He nipped lightly at Sam's inner thigh. "Was I here?" He drew Sam's balls into his wet mouth. "Or was I here?" He licked a broad stripe over Sam's waiting hole. Sam cursed and Dean grinned. "Ah yes, I thought so," he preened, and jabbed his tongue back inside.

Sam thought there was a good chance he was going to murder his brother, but it was going to have to wait until he stopped doing that with his tongue. Ooh, and that. And that thing with the finger - no wait, Jesus - the two fingers. Sam's brain stopped forming any more coherent thoughts as Dean found that incredible spot inside and Sam just gave himself over to the delicious sensations. He was eagerly riding three long digits when he felt Dean's breath against his ear.

"Turn over for me, Sammy. I need to see your face."

Sam rolled slowly onto his back and opened his legs to bracket his brother's hips with his knees. Dean bent down and kissed him deeply, the swaggering stud expression replaced with a look of tenderness and concern that nearly broke Sam's heart.

"Don't go there, Dean," he remonstrated. "I want this. You want this." Sam hesitated and took a big breath. "Unless you don't want this…."

"I do, Sammy," Dean answered, his forehead pressed against his brother's.

"Well, then cut out the chick-flick crap and fuck my tight ass," Sam commanded.

Dean's pupils flared and he growled deep in the back of his throat. He poured lube onto his fingers and slicked up his cock as Sam watched, chest heaving in anticipation. He guided the crown of his prick to Sam's waiting hole and stroked it back and forth over the opening teasingly until Sam snarled and reached between them to line it up. Dean's breath caught as he pressed forward, watching with wide eyes as the tip slipped inside.

"Fuuuck," he croaked. Dean paused until he got Sam's go-ahead then thrust with slow, shallow strokes, getting barely half of his shaft inside before withdrawing and sliding in again, teasing Sam open slowly. When Sam started pleading for more, Dean continued his gradual advancement, pushing in a little deeper each time then pulling out almost entirely before plunging in again. Sam's breaths came in small punched-out gasps but he was arching his back and tilting his hips up to meet his brother's thrusts. The controlled rhythm was almost as torturous for Dean as it was for Sam, but he kept it up until Sam was fully impaled on his aching cock. Dean pressed his chest against his younger brother's, cupped Sam's faced in his palms, and kissed him hot and slow. "So much better, Sammy. They got it so wrong when they tried to replicate you in Hell. You feel so much better."

Sam clenched and released around Dean's shaft, then he began to move his hips tentatively, bending his knees up to take Dean deeper inside him. Dean whined against Sam's mouth before starting long thrusts into Sam's tight channel. The brothers worked together to find a rhythm and soon their skin was prickled with sweat as their bodies heaved and arched in unison.

Sam hooked his heels over his older brother's shoulders and Dean folded him nearly in half as he dove deeper and deeper into Sam's welcoming heat. Sam wrapped his massive hands around the back of Dean's head to pull his face closer, feeding on his older brother's mouth as Dean pounded him into the mattress. The sharp slap of skin on skin filled the room along with harsh cries and low moans of pleasure.

The minutes stretched into a hazy dream state where nothing existed but heat and skin, tongues and sweat, slickness and slide. Dean grabbed Sam's wrists and brought them to his mouth, tenderly tracing each thin, white scar with his tongue. Sam was quivering by the time Dean gave each a gentle kiss and then pinned Sam's arms over his head, gazing down at his brother through long eyelashes. Eyes locked on Sam's, the older Winchester's lips parted slightly as he slid his cock all the way out of Sam's embracing heat then plunged back in. Sam's breath caught in his chest and his eyes widened as his older brother repeated the movement several times before he began to slam into Sam steadily and rhythmically.

Dean reached one hand down between them to encase Sam's thick cock as he felt himself skating closer and closer to the edge. Sam's back arched off the bed at the added sensation and it only took a dozen or so strokes before he spattered their bellies with his come. Dean watched his younger brother fall apart on his cock and slowed his movements as he milked Sam through his climax and the aftershocks.

As he marvelled at Sam's muscular torso, now painted with come, Dean's dick twitched in its sweet confines and he increased his rhythm. Sam moved languidly beneath him, watching his brother through a haze of bliss as Dean increased his tempo. "Jesus, Sammy, feels so good."

"C'mon, Dean," Sam implored, tongue tracing his bottom lip. "Wanna feel it. Come in my ass. Please."

The wooden headboard slammed against the wall as Dean let go of his ever-present control and fucked his brother full force. His orgasm ripped through him, threatened to split him into his component atoms. Dean's hips stuttered erratically as he continued to ride Sam through his climax until he was incapable of any further movement.

Dean collapsed forward panting against Sam's broad chest as the younger man carefully lowered his long legs and looped them around Dean's bowed pair to lock them in place. They breathed together as their pounding hearts returned to their regular rhythm.

Dean tried to pull away as he felt his cock soften and slide out of Sam, fearing he was crushing his brother under his weight but Sam wouldn't let him out of his grasp.

"You're staying right there, Dean," Sam instructed, his hold unyielding.

"But I'm-"

"Yep," Sam interrupted.

"And you're-"

"Yep," Sam interrupted again.

"But-"

Sam silenced Dean the only truly effective way he knew, by sticking his tongue in his older brother's mouth and kissing him until he could protest no further.

"We'll figure it out when we figure it all out." Sam explained when Dean was too kiss-drunk to speak. Sam paused, reached down, and pulled the sheets up over the two of them.

"Tomorrow."