11: Daddy's Little Secret

Fandom: Supernatural

Category/Rated: R for violence

Year/Length: 2008/~11,900 words

Pairing: Sam and Dean

Disclaimer: No profit was made off this. The characters belong the originators of Supernatural. Was all in pure fun.

Warning: Wincest

Summary: Dean stared at the crystals. Sam had seen their mom in the dream walk? The person he’d wanted to see so badly. He pulled his hand away from Sam and fingered the crystals. "Mom gave you these?" He looked at him. "And if we wear these, we'll be safe, you and me? The demon hounds won't get me?" Dean lifted his eyes to study at his brother, searching Sam for signs that he was joking and gasping as he saw him nod.

Series: Supernatural Virtual Slash Season 3

Beta: ailurophile6 for which much thanks.

The weather was rainy as the Impala headed for the coast. The wipers thumbed against the windshield, combining with the hum of the large engine and the tires upon the wet road to make an almost mesmerizing sound. Finally Dean pulled in to the side. The two men inside both stared out through the glass, watching as other vehicles passed them by. The air was cold, yet humid; the heater was on, but the pair were still bundled up.

Dean sipped at some coffee, trying to clear his head, while his brother sat beside him, doing a search online with his phone, looking for any motel that might be nearby. Camp Pendleton was their destination. Dean wouldn't tell Sam his reasons for wanting to go, other than it was the place where their father had trained, and he wanted to see it. In the back of his mind he knew he should tell Sam, but there was still time, and he wanted to hug his father's presence to him for just a little while longer.

There was still a little time, but time was not on Dean's side, and Sam knew it.

Sam was determined to tell Dean about the crystals. Time was pressing now, and Dean had to choose to live. It seemed to Sam that Dean couldn't think about anything else except whatever he was going to Camp Pendleton for. Sam hoped that Dean would come around to confiding in him, and knew that he could wait until his brother wasn't so preoccupied before broaching the subject. Knowing this, he was concentrating for now on facilitating the visit to the base.

"I've got one, Dean. Make a right at the next intersection. There's a motel down there called the Shangri-La. It doesn't look too bad, and there's a swimming pool. It seems reasonably priced too." Sam put his phone away as Dean pulled back out onto the road.

"Do you really think anyone's gonna swim in weather like this?" Dean glanced over at his brother. Stopping at the light, he looked to his left before making the turn and driving the half mile or so Sam had indicated. They pulled into the forecourt of the motel, and Dean surveyed it with a nod. He waited in the car while Sam secured a room and the two of them drove around the back to find it. Climbing out, they grabbed their bags and hurried inside before they got too wet.

"Brr, this weather is nuts," Dean grumbled as he dropped his bag on one of the beds and looked about the place, studying the ugly, seventies decor before snagging the salt to start putting up protection.

"Global warming," nodded Sam. "Guess it could've been worse. The place could've been on fire when we got here." He gave Dean an affectionate smack on the back of the head and went to inspect the bathroom facilities, returning to give Dean a thumbs up. "It'll do. It ain't the Hilton, but there isn't any dubious fungus in the shower." He crossed to one of the beds and tested it, falling back onto it full length with a grin. "Dude, I know you love your car, but it's going to be the reason I have arthritis when I'm eighty."

"Don't you blame that on me. It's your poor driving skills that keep me from letting you drive, so don't give me that crap." Dean was lining the door and windows with salt as he spoke, and as he finished, he straightened up and went to put the can away. "And global warming is some sort of oxymoron or something." He moved over and climbed on top of Sam. "I suppose you want me to kiss your arthritis better," he murmured, dropping his head down to kiss and bite at Sam’s neck.

"Hey, that's a good idea," laughed Sam, wriggling as Dean's rough chin scraped his cheek. "I'd make a fortune on the cure, except you aren't allowed to do this for anyone else." He wrapped his arms around Dean, pulling his brother down, until he lay atop him. "You're also a really good blanket. God, you're versatile."

They kissed for a long time, bodies pressed close, both of them intent on savoring the sensations as they reaffirmed their love for each other with lips, and tongues, hands and bodies. Finally, panting a little, Sam pulled back to gaze at Dean. He never got tired of the way Dean looked when they were making love, his eyes half lidded and predatory and his lips spit-slick and shiny. "So, dude, are you gonna tell me why we're here? Is there a ghost, or something else?"

Dean was running his fingers along Sam's neck, tracing his collar bone, tracing the opening of his shirt. He laid his hand on Sam's chest, "No, not really, but I should." That was honest, for a change. He realized with a start that he was more honest with his brother than anyone else in the world, even his father. "Well, during my vision quest, Dad said he left something here for us. Something we need to see and know."

"Dad did?" Sam cupped Dean's cheek, frowning a little as he tried to determine how Dean felt about that. "You saw Dad? Dude, I hope he was in a good mood and didn't snarl at you for taking a holiday or anything like that." He kissed Dean's chin and then slid his mouth higher, nibbling on his brother’s lower lip. "Did he say what it was that he left? Give you any clues?"

"Just a box of something, and he said it was important." Dean laid his head on Sam's chest. "You know, I'm hungry. Let's order something, okay." He got up and reached for the phone book to see what was around in the way of takeout.

"What do you fancy?" Sam pushed himself up on his elbows so that he could watch his brother. "I could eat something for sure."

Dean still had a tendency to close up, just not quite as frequently around Sam these days. Still there were times like now when he felt as though he had to. Talking about his father was still incredibly painful to him.

"I'm tired of Chinese," he muttered. "How about some Italian?" Handing Sam the book to call, he made for the bathroom. "You call, I'm gonna shower," he said, smacking Sam's butt as he passed.

Giving the yell that was expected of him, Sam turned to the phonebook, and pretty soon he was ordering in enough food to feed an army - or his brother, who seemed to have a bottomless pit for a stomach. "Yeah, lots of garlic bread," he requested, and then replaced the phone, assured that their food would be delivered in 25 minutes. He settled back to sort out their laundry with the intention of getting it done while they were there. The money he'd won had been tucked away securely in the Impala, and he was feeling good about their ability to survive for the next little while.

He'd had no more contact with the demons with whom they'd struck the deal in Vegas, but he had an uneasy premonition that they would be along any day. Til then they'd carry on as they always had. Sniffing Dean's recently removed socks, he tossed them into the pile to launder and settled back to await delivery of their meal.

Dean showered, scrubbing the road dirt off him and trying to get rid of the nervous feeling he had. What was he gonna find here? Would it be something more to disappoint him? Would it merely tell him what he already knew? Whatever it might be, Dean was scared to know the answer in the same way as he’d been scared to know about Sam’s possible future, or what Sam could still become.

He climbed out of the shower, dried then dressed, padding out to look for some socks. Just his luck, he thought, he didn't have any left. "Dude, we need to do laundry." He sat down on his bed, cross legged as he tried to warm his toes. "Does the heater in here even work?" Rising to his feet, he moved over to his brother’s bed, tucking his cold toes under Sam.

"Get off me, jerk!" grumbled Sam, rummaging down to the bottom of his duffel to pull out his one remaining pair of socks. "Here. Just this once, you may insert your stinky feet into my pristine footwear. I've got all the laundry sorted, and I'll do it after we eat." He rose to his feet as he heard the knock on the door and went to get their order. "Okay, grub's up," he called, returning to lay their food out on the table. "Come and get it."

They were soon eating pasta and sauce with garlic bread and salad, and Sam studied his brother, looking for signs of stress. "So when do you want to visit the camp, and how are we going to get in past the gate guards?"

The key in Dean's pocket was weighing heavy. He glanced up, "Tomorrow, ‘cause we need to do some research. Dad didn't exactly tell me where we can find it, whatever it is. So we can catch some z's now and go tonight, or we can wait till morning. I have some ids and stickers that’ll get us past." Dean nodded. "Dad made them up for me a while back. You were still at college."

"Well, okay," murmured Sam, somewhat mystified by this confession. "Got any clues as to what I'm looking for?" Sam was booting up his laptop as he scooped up more pasta. "It's kind of important that we know where we're going and what we're looking for, otherwise we won't find it, will we?" He took an enormous bite out of his garlic bread and began to type. "Right. When would Dad have been at Pendleton? Help me out here, dude."

Dean gave a shrug, "I would say early seventies?" He took a bite. He then reached into his pocket, "He gave me this." He laid the key upon the table. "It looks like it opens some sort of foot locker or box." He stared at it for a moment. "Dude, you look about as lost as I am."

Sam took the key and turned it over a few times. "Says on it W-J14, which doesn't mean much to me. I suppose that maybe we could try explaining to someone there and see if we can get an answer."

He started to type again, googling, 'key W-J14 Camp Pendleton Winchester', half expecting the returns to be zilch. He sat up straight and dropped his fork when a news article was the only hit. "Hey, Dean, there's a whole thing here about a series of time capsules. Some of the guys from Dad's platoon decided to set up time capsules, with the idea that their descendants would get a look at their lives and understand more about them. That looks pretty damned likely to me, don't you think? There's a photo of a marine and his time capsule from back in '73. It isn't Dad though."

"Time capsule?" Dean placed his fork down and moved closer. "Does it say who we need to get in touch with to get into the damn thing?" Dean was tempted to reach over and grab the computer from Sam and restrained himself only with difficulty.

"Not here, dude. Should be available though, because it does mention that the capsule owners would periodically update the contents with items they thought significant." Sam pushed the computer around so Dean could see too. "Dude, that's got to be it. I bet we could go to the gate and just ask. They're bound to know about it there." He picked up his fork again and resumed the meal he'd temporarily forgotten in the excitement of finding out about the time capsules. "So I guess we do laundry, get some sleep and then turn up at the camp bright and early in the morning. You got Dad's dogtag, just in case?"

Dean stared at it for a long moment then he nodded, "Yeah, around my neck," he pulled it out. "Okay, laundry, sleep, and then we find that damn thing and figure out what Dad was telling me." Dean was still finding it hard to believe his father had given so much as a rats ass about him. He finished his meal and rose to his feet, leaving Sam to clean up. "I'll go get the laundry going." He grabbed their bag and headed out, lost in his own thoughts.

When he returned, he made a big deal out of rushing over to grab Sam, exposing him to the cold he’d had to endure. "It's freezing out there," he lamented, hugging Sam to him and shoving his cold hands up his brother's back.

"Get off me, you friggin' jerk!" Sam fought back, but Dean was inside his reach and his superior arm length wasn't helping. "So help me, Dean, I'll trade you for a dog and then shoot the dog if you don't quit putting your cold bits all over me." He finally maneuvered Dean around, until he could throw him onto the bed and dived on top of him, pressing down, until he could immobilize him. "There. Now you can't do anything can you! That'll teach you," he growled.

Dean squirmed and fought his brother, but then he settled, chuckling. "Got you where I want you. You’re my blanket, and I'm getting all toasty, thank you." He grinned like he’d won the lottery. "Dude, you are such a tool."

"May be a tool," smirked Sam, bending to bite Dean's ear. "But I'm your tool, and don't you forget it." He chuckled at his brother. "Okay. What now? TV? Mindless fucking? Sleep? Truth or dare?" He snickered as he rolled off Dean again and sat up. "Name it, dude, and it shall be yours."

"Truth or dare? What are you now? Madonna? You don't have the pointy tits for it." Dean tweaked one of Sam's nipples. "Yeah, why not? Let’s do truth or dare? That sounds interesting." He sat up and looked at Sam, expectantly.

"Why not indeed?" Sam looked back at his brother with a fond little smile on his face. "Okay, you want to toss a coin to see who goes first, or do you just want to go first?" He snickered as he settled back against the pillows. He knew what he was going to ask when his turn came to quiz Dean.

Dean smiled, "I'll go first since I'm older. Okay, when I was gone on my little five state road trip and you were stuck with dad, what happened?"

"I cursed your name, that's what. He turned his undivided attention on me and decided to make me into a good little soldier just like you. It was training from morning ‘til night until I turned on him and threatened him with violence." Sam frowned. "I was shaking in my boots, but I remember screaming, 'I'm not Dean, you fucker,' at him, and he kinda stopped and stared at me." Sam laughed as he remembered how he'd felt. "Anyway, you know what he did? He took me out that evening - told me that we were due a night off, and took me off out to a fuckin' strip joint. Is that whacked out or what?"

"Yeah but a way to burn off steam. Jack off to a few good dancers, just don't touch them," He smirked. "I remember Dad taking me to one way back when. Cause he thought I was too wound up." Dean crossed his legs. "Okay. It’s your turn."

"He did? I never really even thought of Dad as being a sexual being," murmured Sam. He eyed Dean, speculatively. "Okay, Dean, truth time. Tell me... if you knew for a fact that I was able to save you from dying when your year was up, would you say yes or no? What would be your answer, dude?"

Dean stared at Sam. Blinked, opened his lips to speak and then closed them again. "Can't I take the dare?" But when Sam shook his head, Dean looked down. "Funny how all I can think about is that I would finally be given a choice." He looked at Sam, hurt mixed with the hurt in his eyes.

"Yeah. I'm giving you a choice, bro. I can do it. I can get you past the due date on your soul and keep you alive. What's your answer?" Sam's heart seemed to lurch as he looked at his brother. He honestly had no idea which way Dean would jump, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with the answer if Dean said no. He hung his head, hoping that Dean wouldn't feel the pressure he wished he could put on him. His mom had told him to let Dean choose, and he was trying to do that, but the pain of waiting was terrible.

Dean looked at his brother, "If it were possible, Sammy, you know I would say yes. I can't leave you. I don't want to let you do this on your own. I can't." He reached out, lifting Sam's head. "Would you really give me that choice? If it were possible?" Dean asked.

"Told you, dude." Sam lifted his eyes to Dean's, and a tear spilled over to fall onto Dean's hand. "I can do it for you - for us. You got that key from Dad, and I got... I got these from Mom." Reaching into his pocket, Sam pulled out the crystals Mary had given to him. "We have to wear one each, and that will tie us together so that we live and die together. You will be safe from the demons while you wear it, and it will give us time to find out which demon is holding your pledge and get it back."

Dean stared at the crystals. Sam had seen their mom in the dream walk? The person he’d wanted to see so badly. He pulled his hand away from Sam and fingered the crystals. "Mom gave you these?" He looked at him. "And if we wear these, we'll be safe, you and me? The demon hounds won't get me?" Dean lifted his eyes to study at his brother, searching Sam for signs that he was joking and gasping as he saw him nod.

"Yeah, man, for as long as we wear them, we'll be safe. Mom told me to give you a choice, to let you decide if you wanted to stay or... or go..." Sam's voice caught at the thought of Dean choosing to leave him and go with the demons. "So I'm giving you that choice, and I promise that I'll abide by your decision. I think Mom came to me because I've been trying so hard to save you. She told me that she would see you again, soon, but she wouldn't tell me how, so that's all I know."

Dean looked at Sam, "She said that? She..." Dean moved closer then took one of the crystals. He held it up to the light then raised his eyes to meet Sam’s anxious gaze. "Stay," he said to Sam. "I'm choosing to stay with you."

"God!" Sam couldn't speak, could only look at his brother and let the tears that had been pricking the backs of his eyes spill over to roll down his cheeks. He leaned in and caught Dean's cheek with his hand, pressing his mouth against his brother's and owning the kiss as his shoulders shook.

When he finally drew back, his face was tear-stained, his eyes reddened, and his nose too. "We have to put them on together, and then we can't ever take them off, until it's time. It binds the two of us together, until we separate our lives again. Mom said that there was a ritual for that. Said that we'd have it when we needed it."

Dean's own eyes prickled with tears, red rimmed his eyes. He wiped his thumb over Sam's cheek, brushing away the moisture there. He gave Sam another kiss before taking one of the crystals. "So we just put these on?" He waited ‘til Sam had his, and then, after a couple of false starts, they both placed one around their neck. Dean looked down to see it dangling alongside his talisman. Looking over at Sam, he could see the one hanging around his brother’s neck start to glow. When he looked down at his, it was glowing as well.

Looking back at Sam, he smiled, feeling somehow as though he needed to say something more. "I want to live. I want to stay with you," he said at last The brightness of his necklace grew with each word and then hung, glowing, seeming to wait in turn for Sam to respond.

"I want you to live, Dean," Sam said, softly. "I want you to be linked to me, until we can beat this demon thing." There was a flash, and it felt as if something had burned him. He closed his eyes against the sudden flare of light, uttering a curse at the searing pain in his chest.

It was over fast, and he frowned as he looked at Dean. "Dude, what the fuck?" He could see a similar expression on Dean's face, and put his hand up to feel the crystal he'd hung around his neck. He fumbled, then rose to his feet to look around himself. The crystal had gone. Sam looked stricken at its loss. "No! No, this can't happen. I need that crystal."

The flash had blinded Dean, and then he too had felt the white hot, searing pain. His chest burned over his heart. He reached up in unconscious mimicry of Sam and felt no chain, no crystal. Sam was panicking as Dean looked at his chest where the crystal had hung a scant few moments earlier. In its place there was a mark, a sun with a pentagram inside it. "Dude," Dean reached out and grabbed Sam, pulling him in close. "Look."

"Oh, jeez!" Sam gaped, open mouthed. "Wow! Will you look at that? Matching tattoos!" He lifted his eyes to Dean and gave him a still-stunned smile. "Well, that solves a problem I was foreseeing." He peered down at his own chest in disbelief. "Was thinking that it could get lost pretty easily, so this is cool. Fuckin' hurt though, didn't it?"

Dean rubbed at his marking, discovering that it would not come off. Smirking at Sam, he reached out and slapped his tattoo, "There. Does it still hurt?" He asked, looking very pleased with himself.

It hadn't, but Sam wasn't going to tell Dean that. He gave a growl and launched himself at his brother, bearing him backwards onto the bed so that he was pinned down. "Jerk!" he hissed. "Gonna get you for that." Bending his head, he studied the tattoo on his brother's broad chest and then licked it. The skin was perfectly smooth as if it had been there forever, and Sam licked it again, then turned his attention to Dean's nipple, pulling the shirt his brother had on down until he could chew on one as he pinched the other through the fabric.

"Bitch," Dean hissed out only to arch up against his brother. Instantly he trembled and groaned. Hands that had been shoving his brother away now gripped, holding him still. He moaned and squirmed, rubbing against Sam, feeling the bulge in his pants grow as he sought out the friction he so desired. One hand flew into those thick dark locks, caressing, gripping. "You so like to cheat, you always were a cheater."

"Oh, yeah," laughed Sam. "It's my secret strategy. I was taught it by my big brother, who is the master of the art of cheating." He raised his head so that he could drag his lips down over Dean's jaw. "And you love it. I'm your best creation, aren't I?" He pressed his lips to Dean's then, pushing them open, snaking his tongue inside to curl against Dean's and taste. For a moment, all words were lost in the sweetness of love returned, and then Sam pulled away. "And now you an' me, we're tied together. It's kinda like being married, dude."

"Eww, married," Dean started trying to push Sam back once more. "You’re the girl, ‘cause you’re the mushy one." Dean rolled, but, unfortunately, he rolled Sam right off him and onto the floor. There was a stunned silence, and then he peered over the edge of the bed and started laughing. "Dude, turn over and let me see if you cracked your ass," he said, something that he used to tell Sam when they were kids and were wrestling each other.

"It was already cracked, asshole," growled Sam, sitting up and grabbing one of Dean's feet. "You broke it years ago. You seem determined to damage me. How'm I gonna function when my ass is broken in two?" As he was speaking, he was pulling off Dean's sock and tickling the foot itself. "But one of these days I'm gonna tame you, dude. You'll be my bitch and beg me for more by the time I'm done."

Dean started thrashing and kicking at his brother. "You couldn't tame a kitten, butt-wipe," Laughing, he pulled his foot back, grabbing a pillow to hit his brother with. "And it's not damaging you, it’s toughening you up." He tossed the pillow at his brother and lay back on the bed, looking up at Sam as he climbed to his feet and pounced, then rolling to get out of his way.

"You really think I need toughening up?" Sam snickered. "I bet I can beat you any time, bro, just bring it on!" He rose to his feet again and dove at Dean across the bed, dragging his arms around Dean's neck and giving him noogies. "Take that, pretty boy. You know you love me."

Laughing, he rolled onto his back, releasing Dean. "Wonder what's in that time capsule. What time you wanna go in the morning?"

Dean shrugged, "I don't know. Hopefully won't be his old underwear." He checked his watch and then shrugged, "Eight gonna be okay with you?" he asked. He rolled onto his side and looked at his brother. He brushed his hand through his hair then rolled to his stomach and reached for the remote, "Let's see what kind of pornos they have on here."

"Dude, you're insatiable." Sam rose to his feet and went to get himself washed and ready for bed. When he returned, Dean was engrossed in something involving multiple chicks in a tangled heap. He raised his eyebrows as he climbed into the bed and snuggled down beside his brother. "Whose arms belong to whose legs?" he asked. "Better study hard. There will be a test." He yawned and reached to put his hand on Dean's crotch. "Strange how it doesn't seem to be getting you going. The great Dean Winchester going soft?"

Dean shrugged, "I don't know, legs, arms, it's all good. I hope it's a hands on test though." He looked down at Sam's hand then back to his brother. "I'm not always horny, you know." Rolling into Sam he gazed long and hard into his brother’s eyes. "Why, are you horny tonight?"

"Horny's the wrong word," frowned Sam. "I guess I'm... grateful... loving. I feel like I just got you back after fighting for your life, dude, and it makes me want to just confirm that I'm not dreaming." He laughed. "If you want the truth, I'm tired, and if you just want to snuggle up I'll probably be asleep in about ten minutes.

He gave a yawn and pressed his body closer to Dean’s, humming out his approval. "Tomorrow's gonna be awesome; I can feel it."

Pulling Sam to him, Dean wrapped his arm around him. "Okay, sleep it is. And you aren't dreaming. When you get up in the morning and shower, just look down at your chest and see if you can scrub that off." Dean ran his fingers over the marking tattoo that showed their bond. Dean felt good - nearly as good as when he’d made the deal in the first place to get his brother back. For once, he felt free.

The morning dawned bright and warm, and all traces of the previous day's rain had vanished. Sam woke up with Dean wrapped around him, drooling onto his shoulder. He lay for a moment, just loving the way things had changed between them in such a short space of time. He wondered what they would find today, and that made him give his brother a shake. "Dean? Hey, dude, come on. Up and at 'em."

"Uh?" Giving a snort and a grunt, Dean woke with a start and looked about the room, orienting himself. "Oh, yeah, up and at 'em." Crawling out of bed, he stretched. Clad only in his underwear, he padded over to make the coffee. "You can shower first if you like. I'll make the caffeine. We can stop and get something to eat on the way when we head out."

"Yessir, massa boss," mumbled Sam as he rolled out and stumbled to his feet. Making for the bathroom, he scratched his belly and tried to get both eyes to open at the same time and maybe even track together.

He was soon back, clean, dressed and looking much more alert. He reached gratefully for the coffee Dean had brewed. "Okay, we go with our real ID, and Dad's dog tag and key and ask to see inside his time capsule, yeah?" he asked.

Dean had his coffee half finished when Sam emerged smelling clean, hair slicked back from being wet. He nodded, "Okay, I’ll have to find it though. Haven't used it in so long." Dean started for the bathroom. "And don't drink all the coffee."

Within a half hour or so, Dean returned, dressed, smelling fresh and pulling on a shirt over his black tee. "Dude, I swear I'm showering before you from now on. You use too much hot water." He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on as well before digging into his bag to search for his real ID. He looked for a long time before he finally discovered it and extracted it from a bundle of letters that he’d bound together with a rubber band. "Hah, found it," he crowed, grinning widely. "Let's roll."

While Dean had been in the shower, Sam had found his ID as well, and he rose to his feet in a sinuous unfolding of limbs, falling in beside Dean as they went to the door to go and discover the secret of John Winchester's time capsule.

In the Impala once more, Dean pointed the car towards the camp, and they set off. It was obvious that he was excited at what they would find, and Sam could feel anticipation building in him too. He hoped that this would be another step on the way to redeeming his brother.

The camp gates were manned by soldiers, one of whom stepped in and bent to their window to inquire their business. As Dean began to explain, the man waved him into a parking space and asked the two of them to step out of the car and come with him.

Dean glanced at Sam, a little nervous, wondering if the FBI had informed the army that they might show up and to keep a look out for them. As he pulled into the spot, Dean climbed out of the car as soon as he’d slipped the gear shifter into park. He followed the solder, walking alongside his brother behind their guide. "I hope this isn't some kind of trap Hendricksen laid out for us. I will be severely pissed. Not surprised but pissed."

The solider led them along a convoluted path to a single storey building tucked in between a group of trees. Escorting them down a hallway to an office, he turned to them and ushered them inside. "The officer here will be able to help you."

Dean glanced at Sam, then he shrugged and walked in.

Following behind as usual, Sam frowned, looking around himself as he tried to spot anything that might give away the fact that they were expected. The man sitting at the desk rose to his feet as they entered the room and raised his eyebrows at the sight of them. "Can I help you?" he asked as Dean stopped in front of his desk with Sam right behind him.

"We... uh... our Dad died a little while back, and before he died he... told us that he'd put together a time capsule here. We wondered..." Sam looked over at Dean, offering him the chance to explain further.

"Yeah, see our father left us this. Left us a note to come here and get his time capsule." He reached into his pocket and held up the key.

"What was your father's name?" The man asked.

"John Elroy Winchester," Dean said, preparing himself for a bunch of FBI agents to leap out at them.

"John Winchester. Well let's see what we got." He turned to the computer, which made Dean even more nervous.

Sam bit his lip as he watched the officer type with two fingers, wondering if it would even be possible to get out of there if they were threatened with arrest. As the officer rose to his feet and headed to a printer at the back of the room, he let go of a breath he didn't even know that he'd been holding.

"Would you like to follow me?" murmured the officer, heading back towards the door with his printout. "The capsules are this way."

Leading the brothers down the corridor, the officer turned back to Dean. "Sorry to hear about your father. He was decorated for valor after ‘Nam. The world has lost one of the best."

"Yeah, one of the best," Dean repeated, wishing that the man truly knew what was lost. Dean might have had misgivings about John Winchester as a father, but, as a hunter, he’d been a hero. He suddenly felt his feet grow heavy as if they were unwilling to move. He wasn't walking as quickly as when he first entered, and he felt a weight upon his chest. His heart thumped, and his lungs tightened. What would they find? What was it their father had kept in the capsule?

John's words from Dean's vision echoed in his head.

Dean gave Sam a look as they walked out of the building and across another walkway to a building that looked like a warehouse. The man took them inside, down a row of cage-like lockers. He stopped before one of them, opened it then stepped inside and reached for a box that looked almost the same as the one given to them by the woman who now lived in their house in Lawrence. Dean met Sam’s eyes and shuddered as he reached for the box.

"I'll leave you two be." The man nodded and walked out.

Dean drew a breath nervous now and set it down as if scared to open it.

"Well, go on, dude," muttered Sam, his eyes round as he studied the box. "I can't wait to see." He gestured at the key that Dean held in his hand. "Dad gave it to you, Dean. He trusted you. You need to find out what it is that he wanted to tell you."

Dean placed the key into the box and turned it, hearing the lock give. With a hand on each side, as if he was opening some magnificent treasure, Dean lifted the lid, looked inside and saw... papers. Scowling, he pulled one out - a newspaper, yellow with age - and turned it over, carefully opening it to see that it had an article circled. Reading it quickly, he saw that it was about Sam's soccer team when they’d won some championship.

Handing it over to Sam, he riffled through more, finding yet more stuff related to Sam. He felt his heart sink. "This is all about you," he said at last, not feeling the urge to dig further. "It’s a bunch of things he kept about you." He turned away from the box, failing to see further down where there were a bunch of photos, and a small, old, leather-bound journal that had his name in black sharpie written upon it. Inside were more photos, some of them just shoved in and others taped down. Inside there were words written in John Winchester’s sprawling script.

Dean turned and started heading for the door. He didn't want Sam to see his eyes glazing over with hurt. They’d all been right. Everyone who’d told him John loved Sam more. Sam was more important. Sam was his parents’ world. Dean felt all over again as though he wasn't even a part of the family.

Sam had frowned as he'd watched his brother sift through the papers. As Dean moved away, he dug in, always wanting to see everything. Fumbling down to the bottom of the box, he felt the solid weight of the small journal and lifted it from the welter of loose papers and articles, examining it curiously. Suddenly realizing what this was, he beamed. "Hey, Dean, you really ought to come and see this, dude. I'm not kidding."

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, "What? He has a picture of you dressed as a girl?" He walked over, feeling weary. "What?" he asked, somewhat irritated.

Sam was grinning from ear to ear as he handed the journal over to his brother. "Dude, I forgot just what a dork you looked like when you were ten. Check out those freckles, man. You look like someone splashed you with fake tan or something." He elbowed Dean in the ribs. "How come you have a freakin' book to yourself, and I don't? I think I'm jealous."

Dean frowned as he took the small book and opened it up. His eyes widened as he gazed at the photos and tried to decipher the yoda-scribbles that John always wrote in. there were a couple of small hair clippings, one dark and one blonde. Dean read under it,

"Sammy, Deano (as Sam likes to call him)." He ran his fingers over them as he read on. "Sam is attached to Dean's hip these days, trying to be like his big brother. But he has been that way since I could remember. Dean was the first one to hear Sam's first words. Dean was the first to see him walk. Dean had a lot of firsts with his little brother. And as much as I envy him, I know that Sammy needs Dean almost as much as I need him."

Dean looked at Sam in disbelief.

"I think you need to take it with you and read it, dude," murmured Sam. "Maybe we should take everything and go through it all. It's all the stuff he never let us see." He began removing the papers from the box, pausing to smooth each one out and lay it in a pile until he'd amassed the bulk of them. There was a small photograph album inside, and, flicking through it, Sam found photographs of his mother and father's wedding along with a few baby photos that were Mary and Dean together. Each photo was carefully dated and contained a caption, and Sam felt his eyes welling with tears as he looked at the past that had been stolen from his brother.

Dean helped Sam, stopping to look at the photos. "I didn't even know we had these. I thought everything was destroyed in the fire." He took the photo of him and his mom and ran his fingers over it before handing it back to Sam, "Let's get out of here," he said finally. He gathered the papers that Sam didn’t have already, then he pushed the box back and took the key once more.

The brothers left as fast as they could, getting back to the car and leaving the fort as fast as they possibly could without attracting undue attention. Back at the motel, Dean told Sam not to get out of the car. He went inside, collected their things and checked them out. He wasn’t taking any chances. Returning to the car, they were off down the road as soon as he could start the engine. "We can't take any chances," he murmured as he drove them up along the shore. It was an hour or so later that he finally spotted a motel he was happy with and pulled in off the road.

Once inside, with the salt laid down, Dean sat down with Sam upon the bed to look through the papers they’d brought.

Sam had collected everything Dean hadn’t and was now spreading things out on the table, sorting them into separate piles depending on whether they related to Dean, his mother, or himself. John had evidently paid frequent trips to his time capsule, right up until around three months before he had died, because there were news articles up until that date. Sam almost missed the sealed envelope that had been slipped inside a newspaper that carried an article about 'Dean's' death, back during the incident with the shapeshifter. As it fluttered to the ground he saw that it was addressed to Dean in the careless script his father had employed.

"Here, dude. This is one for you."

Dean took the sealed envelope. He turned it over in his hand before looking for reassurance from Sam.

"Go on." Sam watched his brother opening it. Dean pulled out the paper and unfolded it. It was in John's scrawl but a little more carefully written than usual. Dean started to read.

Dear Dean,
I know right now you're mad at me for leaving you on your own. I don't blame you. I've left you on your own to raise your brother since you were four. I shouldn't have. I know that. I put too much on you too fast, too young. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I put so much on you. But you know what I am battling. What I am doing. Not only for your mom, but for you boys as well. Dean, when I first started, I saw things. Horrible things. Things I hope you never will see. But you know, there was always this light I came home to. You. You were always there for me. When I would come home, no matter what the time, you would get up, greet me at the door, take me to a chair and start patching me up. You shouldn't have had to do that. You shouldn't have had to see me look like that. But you were the light, you and Sam were the reason I kept functioning. You were the reason I fought. You were the reason I knew I had to get home.

All the other things I did. Pushing you both. Pushing you away emotionally, was to protect you. To get you both to rely upon each other. Because I knew that one day what killed your mom would eventually take me, although hopefully not before I killed it. I couldn't have you there. You or Sam. I’d already lost Mary, and it nearly killed me. If I’d lost you boys as well my world would be over. It was wrong of me, but I knew if you focused your love on Sam, you two would be close - very close - and that is what I needed.

You are precious to me, Dean. I've never been prouder of you for becoming the man you are. You've become more than I could ever have hoped for. I just wish I could say these words to you, and not have to write them down. But if I don't put them here, sadly, you may never hear them. I know what I am, Dean. I’m not proud of it, but I know.

Give my love to Sam. I am as proud of him as I am of you. Yes we fought, but I guess I showed him more attention than you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for a lot of things. But know this, I love you, son. I love you both.

John

Dean felt tears prickling at his eyes, flushed red as one of them dropped onto the paper. He handed it over to Sam. "You should... read this too."

Nodding, Sam took the proffered letter and turned it round so that he could read it. His brows drew down into a frown as he perused the message his Dad had written, and his nose began to turn pink. When he'd done, he sat staring at it for a moment. "God, Dean, he fucked you up so badly."

He set the letter down carefully and went over to sit beside his brother. "He wanted us together. Do you think that the manipulative bastard wanted us to be lovers, too?"

Dean just stared for a long moment, "I think he caused a lot of things he really hadn't intended, but he did his best. He knew it fell short, but one thing he did was love us in his own way. We always knew he wasn't perfect." Dean looked sadly at Sam. "You know, not once did he ever call me son to my face." He held up the letter. "Always made me feel like I wasn't. He says things in here I always wanted to hear him say in person."

"Better late than never." Dean sighed heavily. "He loved me, Sam. He may have been a bastard but he finally told me that he loved me." He leaned heavily against Sam as he reached over to take a photo. It was of Dean holding the two year old baby Sam. "I remember this. It was before Dad left. He was gone for a couple of days, and I was so scared being alone with you. It was the first time he ever left us alone together. When he came back, it was one of the few times when he walked in the door, saw me on the couch with you sleeping, that I ever saw him look at me proudly. He was a mess too. I got up, cleaned him up and sent him to bed and then crawled back on the couch with you."

"You were only six?" Sam put his arms around Dean and held him, unable to speak for a moment. "What the hell was he thinking?" For a moment, Sam sat holding his brother, loving him wordlessly. He caught sight of another photograph - the three of them together, Sam a skinny six year old, between Dean and his father, clutching a knife that was almost as big as he was, and all three of them covered in mud. "God, I remember this one. That was actually fun, flopping around in the mud after that undine. She nearly got you with her song, too. I remember sticking my knife into her and screaming 'exorciso te' at her, while she had you down and was going to drown you. Dad said I'd been a good man, and I remember feeling so proud."

"He had to go out there and kill the evil to keep it from hurting others the way it had hurt us. Dad didn't trust leaving us with too many people." Dean gave a shrug. He then glanced at the photo Sam held. "Six years old, and he thought you were a man! Sammy, you were just a kid. And a kid your age should not have been exposed to that. I tried to keep you from it but I guess that was just one of the many failures I’ve had in my life. I just wanted you to be able to be a kid - a normal regular kid. To have a better life than I could ever have. I sometimes wished Dad would have put us up for adoption, so none of this would have happened, but that was just a foolish pipe dream, I guess." Dean pulled away from Sam, reaching for more of the papers, looking through them to hide the emotion that was so visible on his face.

"You didn't fail, dude. You gave me more than anyone, and don't think I don't know it. Without you I'd have been just an ordinary boy who wasn't prepared for being demon spawn. Then what would've happened to me? Jake would've killed me for sure, because I'd have had no clue how to defend myself, and there'd have been no big brother to save my ass." Sam dropped everything he was holding and pulled Dean into a kiss. "Thank you," he whispered.

Dean felt tears welling in his eyes as Sam spoke. He was scared for Sam. Scared of what had happened to him during those few moments he was dead. He wasn't a hundred percent Sam. Dean knew it in his heart, but his brother was still his brother. He just wished... He returned Sam's kiss deeply, letting his lips play over Sam's before pulling back. "Hey, it’s what big brothers do."

"See, dude, you've gotta believe in yourself the way that I believe in you. You and me, we're joined now. I can feel you, and I bet you can feel me." He didn't want to let Dean go, but he knew that Dean would only take so much of the chick-flick conversation before he rebelled. "So just believe me when I tell you that you succeeded. I'm here, and you're the one that made it possible." He ducked his head to poke his wet tongue into Dean's ear and snickered. "And if you don't believe me, then believe Dad. Remember what he said in his letter? You should. You only just read it."

Dean looked back to the letter. Why couldn't John have said this to his face? It would have meant so much more. At least now Dean was learning how his father felt. How much he really loved his two unlucky sons, and it eased some of his pain. He studied Sam, feeling that his heart was beating along with Sam's. And he could feel something else. Not just the love, but fear, too, fear of what he could become. Dean knew that Sam had to be feeling his fear as well - or was that what he was picking up? It didn't matter; he was staying with his brother now. They were going to find a way out of this stupid-ass deal he got himself into, and his brother had made sure that was possible.

Dean made a face and wiped his ear, "Dude, eww."

Laughing, Sam moved back away from his brother, before he could retaliate. "Show me the photos, dude. Tell me a story. What've you found?" He snuggled up against Dean and stuck his thumb in his mouth, giving Dean a wide-eyed look through his bangs. "You're out of practice," he mumbled. "You need to get back in the habit."

"Out of practice? Of what?' Dean asked as he rummaged through the photos, looking through them and letting the memories flood him. He held one up of just himself and Sam. "Your birthday." he handed it to Sam. "Dad got you a cake. It was the first cake we’d had since mom's death. It was for your fifth birthday. I told dad to get you it, and for once he did what I said."

"You told me you made it, dude. I believed you." Sam leaned his head on Dean's shoulder and gazed up at him through his eyelashes. "What a con artist you are. You were even then." Sam laughed and rubbed his cheek against Dean's shoulder. "You gave me that catcher's mitt for my birthday, dude. I was so proud of that glove. I think I took it everywhere with me, ‘til my hand grew too big for it."

"That didn't take long, you grew like a bean sprout after that." Dean lifted his arm, wrapping it around Sam and rubbing his arm. "Yeah, I used to pick on you a lot too. But I guess that tends to happen when you’re locked in a room together for days on end." He picked at the pictures. "We had good times as kids too, didn’t we? Yeah, some were bad but ..."

"I always looked up to you, Dean," mused Sam, eyes misty as he recalled his childhood. "You were everything I wanted to be. Dad gave you responsibility, and he wouldn't give me any. I used to wish I was you." He frowned. "I think that, when I left to go to college, in one way I was trying to prove to you that I wasn't a little kid any more, because neither you nor Dad seemed to believe it. You'd have kept me wrapped in cotton wool forever, and I wanted you to let me be adult."

"I knew you would leave one day. Always did. I just didn't want it to happen. Dad pushed me away. I could already see the signs of him doing so. Then when you left, it tore me apart." Dean stared at the wall. "You know, Dad wasn't the only one checking up on you in Stanford. I used to sit there and watch you in the library, just plugging away at your books. How did you think I knew you were always there?" He looked down at Sam with a wry smile on his face.

"God, Dean, I'm so sorry." Sam pressed closer to Dean, trying to recapture the comfort that Dean had afforded him when they were both younger. "You never know how much you hurt someone ‘til after the fact. I wanted you to be proud of me, but I needed to find out who I was too, and Dad... Dad thought that he could treat me like some kind of robot kid. He wouldn't let me be myself. He wanted me to be him."

"He just wanted you to be part of the family business. To make sure people didn't end up like us. But I was proud of you. So was Dad. He was always proud of you." Dean kissed the top of Sam's head. "All I ever wanted from you was to just be you."

"Well you sure got that in spades," said Sam with a reluctant smile. "Be careful what you wish for, and all that." He lifted his head and smiled at his brother. "So now you've created a monster, how do you like it? Was it all worth it, dude, or are you wishing you'd stuck with your GI Joe doll?"

"Action figure, it was an action figure not a doll. Boys don't play with dolls. And you are not a doll. You are more ... " Dean thought a moment and smiled, "Like a giant, huge, giant blow-up doll." He grinned at Sam then pushed him down, rolling on top of him and starting to kiss him. "Sammy," he paused for a moment. "Glad you gave me a choice. Love you." He lowered his head and deepened his kisses.

"When you say that, it makes my whole stomach melt down." Sam reached up to cup his brother's cheek and answered the kiss with one that he hoped would curl Dean’s toes. He slid his other hand into Dean's back pocket and pulled him close. "Mom told me you deserved a choice, and I agreed with her. Dean, you've spent your whole life being pushed one way or another, doing things because other people wanted you to do them, rather than doing them for yourself." He spread his legs wide so that he could roll his hips up against Dean's. "I love you. I want you to choose from now on."

Dean's eyes roamed over Sam's face as he spoke, leaning down and kissing the mole on his brother’s chin. "I know what I want right now." He smiled at his brother and pulled back, pushing up to his knees and pulling his shirt off. Tossing it aside, he turned his attention to his tee shirt, discarding that as well. When he was done, the only thing he had on was his talisman, which he never removed. The tattoo stood out on his pale skin over his heart. Dean reached for Sam's pants to undo them as his brother scrambled out of his shirts.

The new tattoo seemed to glow on Dean's chest, and as Sam put out a finger to run it over the black design, he felt an answering tingle in his own. He shivered, then arched his spine as he pressed himself up against Dean, lifting his knees so that he could wrap long, strong legs around his brother's waist. "Good that you want it," murmured Sam, smiling up into Dean's eyes. "Because I can only let you have so many choices in one day, and then I have to start demanding."

Dean got Sam's pants open while still holding Sam's gaze. He ran his hand over Sam's chest, his own finger tips playing over the tattoo that stood out over Sam's lightly tanned skin. As his fingers moved, Dean felt the touch upon his own chest, and it made his cock fill even more. "You were always demanding," he growled as he leaned down and kissed the tattoo then dragged his lips up his brother's neck. He slid his hand back down, caressing, counting ribs, feeling a tremor as he moved his fingers down between skin and underwear to cradle Sam’s cock and curl his fingers around it.

Dean started stroking, ever so slowly. Sam was hard, throbbing, and Dean loved the little sounds coming from Sam's lips. He smiled against Sam's skin, licking his ear. He nipped at Sam’s lobe then dragged his mouth along the firm jaw ‘til he could nibble on Sam's chin. Sam could always make Dean so hard and so desperately needy.

There were only the two of them in the whole world. For the space of a few moments, Sam could forget the secret war raging outside the four walls where they were and believe that he and Dean had forever to hold between them. He threw back his head to give Dean access to his throat, gasping at the little nips and bites with which Dean was gifting him. His own hands were restless, sliding over Dean's smooth back, tugging him into position and pulling him close enough that Sam could rub himself up against hard muscle and firm flesh.

"Too many clothes," he protested, trying to wriggle out of the constraining jeans and press skin to skin. He chuckled as he managed to knee Dean in a sensitive place. "I'll kiss it better, dude, I promise."

Dean made a sound, wincing and cursed a bit before pulling away and getting his pants off. "You better, punk," he grumbled. Climbing back on the bed, he pushed Sam back and crawled over him, caressed him and began to kiss him.

Naked now, Sam wrapped himself around Dean, giving back kiss for kiss, tongue exploring every part of Dean's mouth. He'd succeeded in the task he'd set himself, and Dean was safe from hell for now at least, and better, he'd chosen to stay with Sam. For Sam, that was everything. That was the moon and stars in his pocket, and he wanted to love Dean, show him just how overjoyed he was that Dean had chosen him.

He rolled them over, pressing Dean down into the mattress and smiling down into his eyes. "Okay, show me which bits I hurt, and I'll kiss them better right now," he said, grinning wide. "No part too small!"

"I don’t have any small parts." Dean stuck his tongue out. "So start here," he pointed to his chest.

Taking him at his word, Sam began to kiss Dean's chest, mouth wide and avid as it traveled over the thick slabs of muscle. From collar bone to short ribs he moved, licking and kissing and biting, trying to cover every last part of Dean with his mouth. Pausing to feast on a nipple, he teased it to a little, hard peak and tickled it with his tongue before moving to the other and bringing up his fingers to tease the one he'd left. "Feeling better?" he asked Dean, a smile on his face. "Wouldn't want you to suffer."

Dean gave a moan, "Famous last words. You want me to suffer. You like to make me suffer." Dean’s face was a mask of pleasure as Sam nipped him, and a little sound escaped his lips. He felt his cock fill to near painful amounts as it was trapped between his own and Sam's body. He couldn't help but squirm, wanting friction. Wanting to feel more contact. He reached down, fingers in Sam's thick dark locks, caressing.

"Okay, where else now?" Sam moved down to Dean's belly button, swirling his tongue around it as he spoke. "Don't want you to have a sore belly button!" Dean's cock, thick and lean, was nudging at his cheek as he played, and he lifted his eyes up to smile at Dean. "Guess there are parts of you that really want attention, aren't there? Haven't they ever heard about waiting in line?"

"No," Dean answered, "You hit me in the balls, start there and work your way up." Dean lifted his head to look his brother as he spoke. Sam's cheek glistened with little droplets of his juice, so he reached down with a thumb and smeared it, then pressed it into his brother’s mouth.

Smirking, Sam slid down further until he was crouched between Dean's legs, face nuzzling in against the solid weight of cock and balls. He licked at Dean's thumb and then turned to lavish attention on his balls, catlicking, nibbling and smoothing out the fuzzy skin. "Wonder if I can make you come just by playing with your balls," he murmured. "I could try."

"You’re a bitch if you do that. A teasing bitch," Dean bent his knees, opening up wider. He whimpered and winced as if he was in pain, and, in a way, he was. He groaned deeply then gasped. "Shit, Sammy," he moaned, shuddering. "Suck me, Sammy."

"You've got it, Dean, baby." Sam was chuckling now as he looked up at Dean's sweaty, anguished face. "Gotta love the tease, boy. Makes it all feel so much better at the end, when you finally get off, doesn't it?" He scooted up a little and placed a long, loving, wet kiss onto the head of Dean's cock. "And you know I'll do you right, don't you?"

Dean pushed his back off the bed, his shoulders pressing down into the mattress as Sam teased him, heating up his cock. Sam’s mouth was wet, his breath made Dean shiver, and he groaned again. He wanted his brother so much, and here he was. "Just remember, the more you tease, the more it’s gonna come around to bite you."

"Bring it on," smirked Sam, twirling his tongue around the head of his brother's cock, determined to take it slow. "You taste so fuckin' good, Dean, salt and desperation. I love doing this to you." He took hold of Dean's shaft and began to spread the moisture that was oozing from it, mixing it with his saliva. "Ready for it," he murmured, husky voiced and sly, and then took Dean in, his mouth a heated rush as he dropped down over it, sucking and sliding, until it was right inside.

Dean gasped hard, his eyes closing tightly, his fists curling in the sheets to tug. He saw a kaleidoscope of colors as Sam took him to new heights. he felt as if he was flying apart but being gathered into loving arms. Sam stroked him, working him and then pausing ‘til Dean was nearly out of his mind.

"Sammy," Dean moaned out, raising his hands over his head to grip the headboard.

Sam didn't have time for words, so he reached up to pet Dean's belly in acknowledgement and went for it, sucking, licking, trying his best to draw Dean's brains out through the end of his dick. He reached for his own pants, fumbled for the lube he had in the pocket and returned to dabble his fingers in it, and then slipped one in between Dean’s straining buttocks to press inside him.

The finger slid in easily, and Sam quickly followed with a second, loving the sounds that Dean was making in response to his caresses. "Yeah, Dean, that's it. I'm gonna make you beg for it, and then I'm gonna make you come." He crooked his fingers to find the gland that would make his brother feel really good.

Dean jerked and trembled. Sam was incredibly talented with his mouth and even more so with his fingers. His body shifted, rocked and tried to press down into those maddening fingers. He wanted more, more than just fingers. His mind had melted and so had his ability to speak, and all he could do was groan deep in his throat and buck his hips. "Stop teasing, Sammy." He begged again.

"Oh, there's no tease here, man. I'm gonna do you 'til you scream." Sam said, pulling himself up onto his knees without stopping the in-out motion of his fingers. "Gimme one of those pillows, please? I think we're gonna need it." Reaching for it, he lifted Dean's ass and slid it under, then pulled away to set his cock in place. "You ready, dude?" he asked, slowly pushing himself into his brother's body at last. "You gonna take it?"

Tipped back, Dean had to use his arms to keep from being pushed into the headboard. Sam spread him wide, and he winced in pain momentarily, and Sam paused, petting him, letting him adjust until he nodded to give the go ahead. It didn’t take long ‘til he felt the burn give way to pleasure and let out a shuddering breath. "Give it to me, all of it." Dean moved his leg to place it at the bend of Sam's arm. He was ready now, needing and wanting.

And Sam did, slipping deep into Dean, deep enough that he could feel his balls touch Dean's buttocks and had to let go a little gasp of his own. He slipped Dean's leg across his shoulder and bent to kiss him, licking along the plump lips. He could feel Dean's slick-soft tissues cling to him as he pulled back, tentatively driving in again and feeling the wave of sweet feeling consume him. "You're incredible, man. I love you so much. How come we never did this before?"

Dean gasped, jerking. Sam was bending his body to a point where it nearly hurt, just so he could kiss him. Pushing him back a little with one hand, Dean refused to answer. He wanted to say that Sam had left him before they could get together. He wanted to say that Sam had abandoned Dean, but that he, Dean had never abandoned his brother. Instead he grunted with a thrust and allowed his spine to melt into the action, "Harder, Sammy," he breathed.

Harder was not only possible, it was desirable. Sam moved faster, pounded harder, driving into Dean until he wasn't sure where he ended, and Dean began. The tattoo on his chest was glowing now, a burst of pleasure from it with every inward thrust Sam made. He bent to lick at the tattoo on Dean's chest and felt a sensation like electricity tingling through his own, warm and sweet, filling his chest as he did so. Kneeling up, he lifted Dean's hips higher so that he could fuck him hard and threw his head back as sensations grew in him.

Dean shivered and grunted, letting out sounds of pleasure that left him in soft whispers only to grow and fill the air. He grabbed Sam's arms, holding them tightly as that cock moved in and out of him, thick and dragging, tickling his prostate in the right way. He tried to push back, tried to squeeze, tried to bring his brother on, and then grasped his own cock, started pumping, drawing more groans as his body lit itself on fire.

Sam continued to fuck Dean, his eyes never wavering from Dean's, holding his brother's gaze as he stared down into glazed green eyes, blinded with passion. "Gonna come in a minute, Dean? Want you to come. Want to see it when it hits you." He reached with one hand and pinched one of Dean's nipples, then dragged a finger over the tattoo beside it. "Ready, man? Come on. Let me see you."

Dean growled up at Sam then shivered as fingers touched the tattoo. The caress caused him to jerk, and his face turned blissful as he released, the wetness spilling over his hand and stomach. He shivered and shook, tightening around his brother, pulsing.

Love filled Sam's heart as he watched Dean fall apart. He bit his lip as he watched Dean's eyes lose focus and the pupils eclipse any vestige of green. There was a light dusting of freckles covering Dean's cheeks where the sun had kissed them, and Sam had a sudden urge to lick each one of them. Jess had been beautiful, but Dean was transcendent. Watching him, Sam lost the battle to hold back his own orgasm. He gave a little cry and came, shuddering as his muscles locked up. "Dean..." was all he could say, and all he would ever need to say as he collapsed onto his brother.

With careful movement, Dean slid his brother from him and down beside him. They were both a mess, and neither of them could move too much. Dean thought himself lucky to get Sam off him with the remaining energy he had. Upon lying Sam down, Dean kissed his brother softly, and then wrapped his arms around his brother, holding him against his body. He let his actions speak the 'chick flick' words he didn't want to say. Actions had always meant more to Dean than words, though he was beginning to realize at last that those were just as important. He had learned early on from his dad that words, though said with meaning, could be, and often were, lies.

Not with Sam though. And that was something Dean treasured. He was beginning to realize that he loved his brother more than his own life.

Sam felt exhausted, body and mind calm in the aftermath of passion. He sank into Dean's embrace, feeling as safe and secure as he ever had, content in the knowledge that Dean had chosen life and him rather than the death he'd insisted he deserved for so long. Before much longer, sleep took him.

Back: Episode 10 –|– Next: Episode 12

---

| Back to My Stories –|– Email Dr. Ruthless |