Once they were back at the clearing, Sam took a look at the inside of the bus as Dean's urging. The frantic handwriting spoke of a man losing his mind and he wondered if the magic had done that to Hector or if he had already been suffering from a mental illness. Either way, the words held no power and appeared to be benign. Just to be sure, Sam cast a simple purification spell he'd copied from one of Rowena's notebooks. He'd left the spell book with Dean who wanted to burn it. The grimoire was obviously evil, but it was important to study and document what it held. Sam had never forgotten that it was magic from a similar book that had saved Dean from the Mark of Cain. They had a curse box in the car that would keep it contained until they got home to the bunker.

After the bus, they destroyed the flower garden. Dean enjoyed chopping the blousy heads off while Sam yanked the stems out of the earth. They piled them into a red mound and soaked them with some lighter fluid and salt. Just to be extra careful, they donned their masks. Based the notes that Sam had studied on the drive over, it was a compound in the flower pollen that played a role in Hector's magic-enhanced powder. Just as he had suspected, the masks were uncomfortable to wear.

Dean kept the fire small in deference to the forest around them. The flowers burnt with strange colours and unnatural speed. They buried the ashes with more salt. Between the respirator, the fire, and the sun above, they were both sweaty and soot streaked by the time they were done. Sam pulled off his mask and wiped his face on his sleeve while Dean upended a bottle of water over his head, soaking the collar of his t-shirt.

"C'mon, let's get this done."

The cabin itself wasn't much to see, small and grey with age. There was just the one room, lit only by the daylight through the tiny windows. The opening to the tunnel yawning dark in the middle of it. Dean kicked the trap door closed with a loud thud and Sam shot him a look.

"What? You didn't crawl a hundred miles on your hands and knees."

"It was hardly a hundred miles, Dean." His brother shrugged, unrepentant and Sam let it go. He couldn't really be mad considering Dean had saved his life.

There really wasn't much left in the room. The whiteboards had been erased, the bookshelf was empty, and the cot held nothing but a grungy sleeping bag. The only thing of interest was an antique looking candle holder on the table. Sam was considering whether to purify the cabin too when Dean picked up the candlestick.

"Hey, do you think we could sell this on eBay?" he joked.

Before Sam could react, there was a loud bang from the ceiling and sweet-smelling powder filled the room. Instantly it covered everything, blinding Sam as he tried to breath air that was suddenly thick. He could feel it coating his tongue as he coughed and sputtered. With a flailing hand he caught Dean's sleeve and heaved them both towards the door. Blinking dust out of his eyes, he spat trying to clear his airway.

"Here," a bottle of water appeared in front of him, and he took it, washing out his mouth and pouring it over his face. Holy hell, they were in trouble. Beside him Dean had splashed his face clean, but his eyes were wide with alarm.

"Tell me that isn't what I think it is?"

"I wish I could."

As Dean cursed in multiple languages, Sam's mind began to race. There had to be something he could do. There might be an answer in Hector's papers, but they didn't have time for him to read them all much less interpret the complicated chemistry. Maybe he could modify Rowena's purification spell. Gingerly peeling off his overshirt and folding the powder coated side inward, Sam wiped the zipper of his backpack as clean as he could and pulled out his notebook. He flipped through the carefully recorded spells and counter curses but there was nothing that seemed like it might help. Panic began to flutter in his stomach along with a less welcome feeling. Sam did what he had always done when things went bad – looked to Dean.

Beside him his brother squared his shoulders and gave him a grim smile.

"C'mon, let's get back to the car."

They made it to the clearing in just over an hour, dropping their bags once they cleared the trees. Baby was waiting patiently for them, gleaming in the bright daylight. Normally coming back to his favourite girl after a job was a comfort, a sign of home and safety. But this time Dean sagged against the sun-baked side of the car, just this side of panic. The heat of the metal against his back was nothing compared to the burning beneath his skin. An excruciating mix of pleasure and pain, it was all he could do to keep control of the bizarre lust that had him practically vibrating. Beside him Sam was the picture of dejection, hands clenched on Baby's roof as his head hung between his shoulders. The midday sun wasn't helping things, cranking up the heat even further.

"What are we going to do?" Sam's voice was muffled as he wiped his sweaty face against the shoulder of his t-shirt. The panic that was settled deep in Dean's stomach writhed in counterpoint to the pounding of his heart and the inferno that seemed to be building within him. He tried to think through the urges screaming at him.

"Uh, we burn rubber back to town, find some working girls and…."

"It's almost two hours back to the city." Sam was practically oozing solemnity and sincerity, but Dean refused to look at him and studiously kept his eyes on the trees surrounding the clearing. Part of him wanted to take off running as if that would solve the terrible problem they were facing or avoid the even worse solution that kept popping unwanted into his head. The little opening in the forest where they were parked was barely big enough for the two vehicles, so there was nowhere to run. He wiped a hand across his mouth.

"Well unless you want to turn into a pair of statues, we don't have much choice. Let's get a move on." Dean couldn't help but snap as he dug the keys out of his jeans, trying to ignore how tight they had grown. Anger was easier than admitting that they were in serious trouble. There had to be some way to get out of this mess if he could only think straight for a second. Well, a way out other than the unthinkable. A quick glance to his right and he could see the muscles in Sam's arm tremble as he clutched the chrome around the open driver's window.

"We're out of time, Dean." There was a horrible resignation in Sam's voice, and Dean found himself vigorously shaking his head.

"No! No. There's got to be an antidote or...or something that can slow it down."

"Dean. I'm out of time." Something quiet and sad in Sam's voice made him look over at his brother. Sam held out his right arm. A small patch of skin on the inside of his elbow had turned the mottled grey of stone.

"Shit!" Dean slammed his palm against the car, for once not the least bit concerned about denting the door panel. The panic in his gut cranked up another notch. He took a breath and held it for the count of 4 before letting it out and asking "How long?"

Sam ducked his head and shrugged self-consciously, "Not sure, 20, 30 minutes. Maybe."

Dean tilted his head back and stared up at the cloudless sky. Perspiration stung his eyes as he desperately ran through every scenario he could think of. But Sam was right, they were out of time. He needed a damn drink, preferably many, many drinks. But now wasn't the occasion. He was barely holding onto his self control as it was, and he doubted he could ever get drunk enough to make what had to be done to save Sam be okay. Silently he cursed Hector Yanez with every expletive he could think of and a few he invented on the spot.

Dean forced himself to really look at his brother. Sam was miserable and anxious. His hair was dark with sweat and stuck up all over in unruly curls. His cheeks were flushed with unnatural rosy spots and a rivulet of sweat ran down his neck into the collar of his already damp t-shirt. Sam normally ran furnace-hot, so he had to be practically on fire and if Dean didn't do something, he was going to lose the kid.

"What are you thinking?" Sam asked, his fingers gripping the window frame so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"That we're not going out today - not like this."

Sam snorted softly. "So what? Tandem suicide?"

The joke wasn't even a little bit funny, but gallows humour was a Winchester hallmark. Dean wanted to smile but the thought of what they were going to have to do wiped away any trace of amusement. Still, he'd made his decision and even the worst course of action was better than watching Sammy die.

"Tempting, but no. We're going to let this freaky ass magic dust run its course. No matter what, we're not dying today." Beside him Sam sucked in a ragged breath.

"Dean," Sam began, but Dean cut him off. There was no time for debate, or analysis, or for his brainiac baby brother to think things through. In fact, the less thinking they did the better.

"No Sam, we're doing this. Did Hector's notes say exactly what needs to happen?" If Dean didn't already feel like he was being barbecued from the inside, he probably would have blushed.

"It's not clear, he didn't test it thoroughly. But from what Georgie told us and what I read in his notebooks, as long as both people uh," Sam paused, obviously choosing his words carefully, "culminate together - it should satisfy the magic." Dean just nodded, not able to meet Sam's eyes just yet.

"And some uh, solo action won't work?" He was grasping at straws, and he knew it. Lust was practically punching him from the inside out.

"Not according to his notes."

"Okay, uh," Dean wiped his sweaty palms down the thighs of his jeans. "So, I guess we should…" He actually had no idea how to get this insane trainwreck started.

"We're really going to do this?" whispered Sam. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded again. They had no choice. Still, it was one thing to make the decision, it was another thing altogether to take the first step. Slowly Sam shifted, putting one arm on either side of Dean's head, caging him against the car. Dean found himself staring into Sam's eyes. Holy crap, he was pretty sure his heart was going to come right out of his chest and his mouth was drier than a god-damned sand dune. But at the same time the magic fire that was racing through his veins flared in response.

"Close your eyes Dean."

Dean tried to swallow around the anxious lump in his throat but did as he was told. Randomly, he thought of those crazy fans of Chuck's books who wrote those nasty stories with him and Sam together. Wouldn't this little scenario blow their minds! Then Sam's lips were on his and all thinking stopped as his brain disconnected.

Like an animal clawing for release, Dean found himself surging up to meet Sam. If the magic burning within him was strong before, it was nothing compared to the inferno raging through him now. His body screamed for contact, even as the kiss deepened. Reaching out, Dean grabbed Sam's t-shirt and yanked him closer. Sam leaned into the move, pressing Dean between the hot car and his even hotter torso. Dean couldn't help but moan into Sam's mouth. The searing need coursing through him was absolute, driving any thought, any idea of "brother, bad, wrong" out of his head.

Sliding one hand up, Dean curled his arm around Sam's broad shoulder even as his other hand crept farther down Sam's back to press him even closer. He slid his palm underneath Sam's shirt to touch the scorching skin beneath and his brother shuddered. Sam snaked his own arm between the car and Dean's back and dragged him impossibly tighter. But the magic demanded more.

Pulling away a few millimeters, Dean sucked in some much-needed oxygen and then skimmed his hands up Sam's ribs, tugging to peel the damp fabric out of the way. Getting the message, Sam leaned back just enough to yank his shirt off. Then it was Dean's turn and clammy cotton barely skimmed by his face before their lips met again. He couldn't repress a shiver. There was a fierce, urgency to the kiss that did nothing to quell the wild, unnatural arousal that ran through him. Sam's hand was flat between his shoulder blades, crushing them together. The other hand was on the small of his back. Every nerve ending was aflame with sensation as the coarse hair on Sam's chest scraped his skin. Sam rolled them both, leaning back against the car and almost pulling Dean off his feet. Dean broke the kiss again for a moment, panting open mouthed against Sam's neck as he clung to Sam in an attempt to keep his balance.

"Take your boots off," Sam demanded hoarsely into Dean's ear, his warm breath sending a shock wave of desire through Dean's body. Doing as he was told, Dean toed off his boots, pinned in place by Sam's massive hands. Then it was Sam's turn to moan as the movement ground skin to skin. Sam skimmed rough fingertips just under the waistband of Dean's jeans and he bucked, arching into the feeling. The buckle on his belt caught and tugged against Sam's and they both hissed from the delicious friction it caused.

Wedging a hand between them, Dean fumbled with his belt, the need to get free from the constricting denim, was suddenly uncontrollable. His knuckles brushed against the twitching muscles of Sam's stomach and Sam broke their fervent kiss and released his death grip with a shocked gasp. Now that there was an inch or two between them, Dean was able to wriggle his way out of his stifling jeans, stepping on the cuffs to get his legs free.

Sam leaned into Dean, resting his damp forehead on his shoulder and gasping for breath like an asthmatic. With trembling fingers, he reached for Sam's belt and began to work the leather out of the loops. Sam's hands drifted to Dean's hips for balance as he kicked off his own boots. The heat from Sam's palms was like a brand through the thin cotton of his boxers.

Dean's knuckles brushed against Sam's stomach again as he pulled the belt free. Sam groaned and he shoved Dean's hand away to roughly thumb open his jeans. Dean helped shove the thick fabric down his legs. Standing in nothing but their underwear, the effects of the magically enhanced aphrodisiac was embarrassingly obvious. Or at least it would be in any other circumstance. A tiny part of Dean's brain wanted to freak out, but not only was he unable to resist the uncontrollable urgency pulsing through his body, he caught a glimpse of the growing patch of stone that marred Sam's arm. Like a rollercoaster, all he could do was hold on until the end of the ride.

They writhed against the car, the sun beating down on them as they hung on to each other. One of Sam's long arms was wrapped around Dean, whose own hands were restlessly travelling across Sam's back. Dean lost track of things for a few minutes, totally overwhelmed by the intense sensations twisting him into knots. It wasn't until Sam pushed him away slightly that he came back to himself.

"Dean." There was a ripple of fear in Sam's voice. He was staring at Dean's torso as the callused pad of his thumb rubbed against a spot on Dean's ribs. A bloom of stone-grey had crept across the area. Damn it! They were cutting things too close, but it was so hard to concentrate with what felt like fireworks going off under his skin. Running his fingers into Sam's hair, he tugged lightly until his brother met his eyes.

"We need to finish this," he said. Sam licked his lips and a jolt of need surged through Dean. His fingers still tangled in Sam's curls, he bit off a curse and brought their mouths together in a heated kiss. One of Sam's giant hands was still at Dean's waist, but with the other he was able to pull open the back door of the car. Sam lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bench seat, drawing Dean forward as he shimmied farther into the car. A shiver ran through Dean, and he found the strength to resist the gentle tug for a second.

"Should we..." he waved his hands towards his boxers. Despite the burning, desperate need thrumming through his body, he recognized this as the point of no return. There might only be a minor difference between humping your brother in your underwear and getting naked with him, but it was an important distinction. Luckily Sam understood what he was saying and shook his head.

"No, I don't think we need to." It was cold comfort considering just how far over the line they already were, but Dean was grateful for even the smallest of mercies right now.

Sam shuffled back a little further and Dean put a knee on the seat between his legs and crawled closer. The inside of the car was like a sauna, steamy and airless and the bare skin of Dean's legs stuck to the hot leather. There wasn't enough room for the two of them, but Sam curled himself sideways and Dean found himself wedged between the seat back and a wall of Sam. It should have been ridiculous, but he sure wasn't laughing.

Dean was not a guy who enjoyed being out of control. Some of the worst things he'd ever done had happened when he wasn't 100% in command of himself. And right now, he was dangerously close to the edge. They were pressed tightly together, chest to chest and more importantly groin to groin. Dean was hyper aware that there were only a couple of thin layers of cotton between them. The fabric did nothing to disguise their arousal or to blunt the intense pleasure that shot through him from the pressure. The heat, the feeling of slick skin on skin, and the searing demands of his body were overpowering. Sam put a hand on the back of Dean's neck pulling him closer and Dean had no choice but to surrender.

With a thick moan, Dean drove his fingers into Sam's hair, instinctively his hips began to move, chasing what the magical Viagra demanded. Sam shifted, aligning their bodies even more directly and then they were moving as one. Everything melted into a spinning, exhilarating build towards a powerful precipice. Sam's labored breathing was like fire on his neck and their combined movements became more ragged and frantic. Dean was breathless too; all the air punched out of him in a series of muffled grunts. Finally, his belly tightened, his eyelids slammed shut and he tumbled over the brink into oblivion.