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Soul Survivor

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Dean rolled his eyes as he listened to Crowley bitching about Hell for the millionth time. He was really getting tired of this shit. Honestly, he didn't know why he was sticking around here. There were so many other things he wanted to do right now. Like going back to the bunker and playing with his toy. The only problem with that was that Crowley managed to suck the fun out of everything, and Dean wasn't quite ready to share his little secret just yet.

“I'm not going down there right now!” Dean barked, unable to keep his cool any longer. “You've been yacking about it for weeks now. I like it right where I am. On Earth.” Knocking back the last of his beer, Dean slammed the empty bottle onto the bar before he shoved out of his chair. “If you wanna be down there so damn bad, then just go!”

With that, Dean walked out of the bar they frequented. He felt like his skin was on fire. His palm was itching for his blade, making it feel like he was burning from the inside out. Dean needed to get out of here. And he knew just what he needed – a trip to the bunker to play with his favorite toy. That always seemed to cheer him up. And if he was being honest with himself, it made his need for the blade merely a dull ache.

The whole drive to the bunker, Dean felt like he was going to lose it. Even music wasn't keeping his mind off of it, which was odd. Damn Crowley had really done it tonight. If he would have just kept his damn mouth shut about Hell, Dean would have been fine. But no, he had to keep griping at him and make him angry. Now, Dean was paying for it.

But soon, it would all be okay. There was only about three miles separating him from the bunker, and Dean could hardly wait. Just thinking about all of the things he was going to do to his favorite toy had a smile tugging at his lips. It had been way too long since the last time he'd been able to play. To say that he was looking forward to it would have been an understatement.

Finally, Dean pulled into the bunker's garage, hiding the Impala from view. The last thing he needed was Crowley coming here and seeing the car – that would have blown his cover. A wide smile came to his lips as he pushed himself out of the car, slamming the door behind himself. Just one floor above him, his toy was waiting patiently for his return. It had been a few days since he'd been here, and he was itching for a game.

His palm was twitching as he made his way up the stairs, pushing through the doors into the main room of the bunker. Everything was just as he remembered it – the large table sitting in the middle of the room the only light shining through the bunker. “Honey, I'm home!” Dean called out, making his way through the hallways leading to his old bedroom.

Pushing through the door to his room, Dean reached into his jacket, pulling the first blade from his pocket. He didn't need it for what he was doing today. All it would do was call for him – make him want to use it when he knew he shouldn't. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his toy beyond repair. And when the blade was in his hands, everything got a little...fuzzy.

Now that the blade was not on his person, Dean could focus on other things. Sighing, he headed out of his room, taking one last glance at his blade lying on the bed. His chest constricted and his palm twitched with need once more, forcing Dean to close the door. The mark of Cain on his right forearm burned angrily at the thought of not having its toy, but Dean ignored it. Soon, it would all be nothing more than a dull ache.

He kept his movements slow as he moved through the bunker, each step bringing him closer to his prize. His body hummed as he heard the small whimpers coming from the end of the hall, letting Dean know that he was close. By the time he reached the door, there was a wide, malicious smirk on his lips. Slowly, he turned the knob, pushing the door open with just his fingertips to reveal the bound figure on the floor.

That was disturbing. Dean hadn't left him there when he'd left. He'd been on the bed where he could be comfortable. No matter – he was still bound, still naked, still on display for Dean. “How'd you get off the bed?” Dean asked, sauntering into the room and closing the door behind him. “I told you it was more comfy up there.” Kneeling so that he could touch the man on the ground, Dean ran his fingers up the man's spine. A wide smile came to his lips when his toy flinched away from him. “How long have you been down here, Sammy?”

Time was something Sam hadn't been able to tell in quite a while. Ever since he'd failed to cure his brother, Sam hadn't known the time. All of his days bled together in a mixture of pain. Sometimes, when he was left alone, he could sleep. But it never lasted long. He'd wake up screaming as images of Dean hurting him plagued his mind.

When those hands touched him again, Sam flinched, his whole body shaking. He'd known nothing but pain from those hands recently. There had been a time when Sam had longed for those hands – had associated them with safety and love. With Dean. Now though, Sam wanted nothing more than to get away from those hands.

“Are you ignoring me now?” Dean asked, smirking at his brother. Roughly, Dean shoved Sam onto his back, pressing down on Sam's injured shoulder. He'd taken the sling off Sam the night he locked him in here. After all, it was hard to bind someone wearing a sling. Besides, Sam had seen so much worse than a messed up shoulder – he'd be fine. And if not, well, Dean didn't really care all that much.

Still, Sam ignored him. But Dean could see how the younger man was struggling to keep the screams at bay. Dean hated it when Sam tried to be strong. So, he pushed harder, adding a little more of his body weight to the injured limb. That had Sam screaming in pain, a wide smile coming to Dean's lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Mmmm...that's it, Sammy,” he purred. “Scream for me.”

Pain flared through his arm, causing black spots to pop up in his vision. Sam thought he was going to pass out it hurt so bad. By the time Dean let up, Sam's voice was hoarse from screaming, the younger Winchester's breaths panting out of him. “Fuck you!” he spat, groaning in pain when Dean's fist connected with his cheek.

Another wide smile came to Dean's lips when Sam's cheek split under his knuckles. His fingers twisted in Sam's long hair, yanking the younger man's head back so he was looking into Sam's champagne hazel eyes. “Watch your mouth, Sammy,” Dean warned. “You know I'm always just itching to make you bleed for me.” Leaning in, Dean licked a stripe up the side of Sam's face, collecting the younger man's blood on his tongue.

An obscene moan escaped Dean's lips as he swallowed Sam's blood. “So good, Sammy,” Dean complimented. It had been years since his little brother had guzzled demon blood, but Dean could still taste the faint darkness there. That was never going to go away. Once it was there, it branded you forever. “It's been a while since I've been here, huh?” Dean smiled, releasing Sam's hair. He smiled again when Sam groaned in pain as the back of his head smacked off the concrete. “Let's play a game, Sammy.”

Sam's heartbeat picked up in his chest when Dean suggested a game. He wasn't sure exactly what Dean had in mind, but Sam could imagine that it was anything but good. “N-No,” he breathed, shaking his head. The motion had him feeling like he was going to puke, letting him know that he was probably concussed from hitting his head when he fell off the bed. “I don't wanna play.”

The fact that Sam thought Dean cared what he wanted was almost laughable. Chuckling softly, Dean grabbed Sam's good arm, hauling him to his feet. “I wasn't asking, Sam,” he crooned, head cocked to the side as he drank in the sight of his brother's naked body. He loved that Sam was on display for him – it was one of the best decisions Dean had made since he turned the tables on the younger man. “Let's get you back on the bed. I can't wait to spread you open for me.”

All of the color drained from Sam's face at Dean's words. When Dean tried to pull him back toward the bed, Sam struggled. He wasn't going to let this happen. Dean would never forgive himself if he did this. And Sam was going to cure him. It was only a matter of time. “Don't,” he begged, shaking his head as he tried to plant his feet on the concrete. So far, Dean had just tortured him with words and lashes. But Sam wasn't an idiot – he couldn't miss the lust in his brother's green eyes. And he sure as hell couldn't miss the bulge in Dean's jeans.

It only pissed Dean off when Sam tried to fight him. Honestly, he didn't understand it. There was no way Sam was going to win. Dean was stronger than any human – especially one who had endured the kind of torture Sam had in the last few weeks. “Stop it, Sam,” Dean ordered, grabbing the younger man's injured shoulder and pulling. The action tore another delicious scream from Sam before the younger man nearly fell into Dean.

Once Sam had lost his grip on the floor, it was easy for Dean to get him onto the bed. Dean's eyes bled to black as they raked over Sam's naked body. With just a thought, Dean kept Sam pinned to the bed without any extra bindings, his cock twitching at the sight of Sam struggling against his powers. Slowly, Dean closed the distance between himself and Sam, crawling onto the bed on top of his little brother.

When Dean's hand touched his abdomen, Sam flinched. He tried to shrink back into the bed – tried to make himself disappear into the mattress. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat, Sam swallowing thickly in his attempt to settle his stomach. “Dean, please...” he breathed, shaking his head as he squeezed his eyes tightly closed. “You don't wanna do this. I know you're still in there. You'll never forgive yourself if you do this to me!”

Eyes bleeding back to moss green, Dean smirked. “Oh Sammy, you have no idea how much I wanna do this,” he countered. Roughly, Dean pressed his index finger into one of Sam's healing wounds, feeling the wet squelch of the younger man's blood pooling around his digit. His smile widened as he watched Sam's head press further into the mattress, a loud scream ripping from his throat once more. Damn, he loved that noise. “I'm just disappointed that I didn't think of this sooner.”

Before Sam knew what was happening, Dean had him on his front, opening the cuffs that had kept him bound while Dean was gone. The wind was knocked out of him when Dean shoved him onto his back once more, not being gentle about any of his actions. With his good hand, Sam lashed out, punching Dean in the jaw. It seemed to knock Dean off guard, so Sam did it again, this time managing to dislodge Dean from his kneeling position above him.

With as much strength as his abused body could muster, Sam lifted his right leg, kicking his brother square in the chest. That knocked Dean off the bed completely, giving Sam the opportunity to run. But it was all false hope – he knew he wasn't making it out of this room before Dean recovered. Still, he made it off the bed before Dean's fingers wrapped around his ankle, effectively tripping him.

Another groan escaped Sam when his head made contact with the concrete, sending a loud crack reverberating through the small room. He felt the blood trickling down his cheek long before he saw it. But he didn't have time to focus on that before he was roughly hauled to his feet once more. His stomach flopped at the swift movement; the younger man was sure that if he hadn't been concussed before, he definitely was now. “Dean,” Sam whimpered, though he knew it wasn't going to do anything.

He watched in horror as the cut on his brother's cheek healed itself, Dean's eyes bleeding to onyx once more. “You shouldn't have done that, Sammy,” Dean growled, shoving Sam onto the bed, hard. He didn't give Sam time to react before he crawled onto the bed with him once more. His hands wrapped around Sam's good wrist, yanking his arm above his head and pinning it to the headboard. “Stop struggling!” Dean ordered.

Of course, Sam didn't listen. Not that Dean thought he would. Actually, Sam's defiance was quite a turn on. But he knew there was no way he could keep Sam pinned to this bed with his mind and enjoy the sex – that just wasn't possible. So, he needed a new tactic. Roughly, Dean let the back of his hand fly over the side of Sam's face. “You're going to take this, Sam,” Dean assured his brother. “You have no choice but to like it.”

“Like it?!” Sam scoffed, spitting blood onto the floor. “You're insane.” There was no way Sam was going to like this. He'd let himself accept the fact that it was going to happen, but he sure as hell wasn't going to like it. And he wasn't about to let Dean know he'd all but given up. “I won't let you do this to me. Not without a fight, Dean.”

Shaking his head, Dean explained, “You have two options, Sammy – that's it. You can stop struggling and let me have my way with you now.” Reaching into the nightstand by the bed, Dean pulled out a knife he'd used to torture Sam the last time he'd been here. He didn't even flinch as the blade dragged across his skin, slicing him open. “Or I'll make you want it.” His smile widened when Sam's eyes got larger, fear evident in their depths. “Do you remember what the demon blood does to you, Sammy? I'll have you begging for me in no time.” Shrugging, Dean leaned closer to Sam, pressing his arm just inches from Sam's face. “Maybe I should just do it. I mean, it'll make you behave.”

Quickly, Sam shook his head, lips pressed together in a thin line. “No!” he protested, turning his head away from Dean's blood. “Please...don't.” Sam couldn't keep the begging tone from his voice, the younger man feeling even more defeated now. The last thing he was going to allow Dean to do was dose him with demon blood. Sam didn't want to be that person – not again. “I-I'll do whatever you want me to do. Just please...don't make me do that.”

The sound of Sam begging was definitely something Dean enjoyed. “Whatever I want you to do?” Dean asked, his finger trailing from Sam's chest down to his belly button in a zig-zag pattern. His cock twitched in the confines of his jeans when Sam nodded. Placing the blade on the nightstand where Sam could still see it, Dean leaned in close, lips brushing against the shell of Sam's ear as he spoke. “Don't try anything stupid, Sammy. I can easily change my mind about feeding you my blood.”

Sure that Sam had gotten the message, Dean climbed off the bed. His black eyes locked on Sam, Dean shrugged out of his maroon button up shirt. Strong arms lifted over his head, Dean's fingers gripping his T-shirt and yanking it off his body. Smirking, Dean pressed his hand against his chest, slowly making his way down his body to the fastenings of his jeans – making a show out of it for his brother.

He made quick work of popping the button and dragging down the zipper, his black eyes fading to moss green once more as he cocked his head. “C'mere, Sammy,” he instructed, arms falling by his sides as he waited for the younger man to do as he was told. When Sam didn't immediately move, Dean's eyes ticked to the knife, smirking at Sam briefly.

At first, Sam wanted to protest. He wanted to ignore Dean and just stay right where he was. But when Dean looked at that knife, Sam knew he had to listen. Slowly, he pushed himself into a seated position, using his good arm and his feet to help scoot him to the end of the bed. Once he was at the edge, Sam merely sat there staring up at his brother, waiting for Dean's next instructions.

Seeing Sam following his orders without protest had Dean's cock jumping in the confines of his jeans once more. “What're you waiting for, Sammy?” Dean teased, lips twitching into a smirk. “I'm not gonna bite you. Unless you ask for it. Touch me.”

The thought of touching Dean anywhere had Sam swallowing down the bile rising to the back of his throat. He wanted to protest again, but he knew he couldn't. His hand was shaking as he lifted it, chilly fingers pressing against Dean's hot skin before his palm laid flat over washboard abs. Sam had no idea what Dean wanted from him, so he just kept his hand there, figuring Dean would tell him what to do next.

As soon as Sam's hand landed on him, Dean felt his body ignite. He really didn't understand why he hadn't thought of this earlier. He'd had Sam here for a few weeks now, and this had never crossed his mind. But now that the thought was there, Dean wasn't about to not follow through. Roughly, he gripped Sam's wrist, forcing his hand downward. His eyes remained locked on his little brother's, Dean's smile widening when Sam tried to pull his hand away just before he reached the goods. “Don't!” Dean warned, his grip threatening to snap Sam's wrist.

A small pained gasp escaped Sam when his brother's grip tightened on his wrist. Swallowing thickly, Sam relaxed, allowing Dean to shove his hand into the opening of Dean's jeans. His fingers jerked involuntarily when his skin connected with bare flesh – apparently demon Dean liked to walk around commando. “Wrap your fingers around me, baby,” he heard Dean order. With a resigned sigh, Sam did as he was told, feeling tears welling up behind his eyes.

Dean hadn't been prepared for the fire shooting through his veins when Sam's large hand wrapped around him, causing his hips to jerk involuntarily. “Fuck, Sammy,” Dean groaned, shoving his pants down his thighs as he rocked into his brother's hand. “Look at me, Sam,” he ordered, his free hand moving to grip Sam's chin, forcing his head back so he could see Sam's eyes. The threat of tears was evident, bringing another smile to Dean's lips.

After a few minutes of thrusting into Sam's hand, Dean wanted more. Slapping Sam's hand away from him, Dean reached forward, fingers curling in the soft strands of Sam's greasy hair. The kid needed a shower – if he was good, Dean would let him take one. “C'mon, Sammy,” he breathed, forcing Sam's head closer. “It ain't gonna suck itself, baby brother.”

No! Sam's mind screamed the word, practically begging him not to do it. The grip on his hair tightened, pulling strands at the root and splintering them from his scalp, he was sure. “Dean...” he sputtered, trying to put all of his pleas into that one little word. Had this been his brother – his realBreathe through your nose. Relax. You're gonna pass out if you keep freaking out like that. Relax, dammit, Sammy!

A hard jerk on his hair brought him back to reality, Sam steeling himself and forcing his breathing to slow. He breathed in through his nose, releasing the breath slowly as Dean pistoned his hips into his mouth, forcing Sam to take his cock. For a split second, Sam allowed his mouth to go lax, feeling a sense of triumph when his brother hissed in a breath. His victory was short lived when Dean pulled his hair, growling at Sam to not try that again.

By the time Dean pulled out of his mouth, Sam's jaw was aching. He tried to move his head, but Dean's grip was still tight in his hair, causing him to whimper slightly. Sam was helpless to do much more than just stare at Dean while he stripped his hand over his length in quick motions. The only warning he got was a loud moan from Dean before he felt the wet, sticky warmth of his brother's release splattering against his cheek.

Humiliation spread through Sam, turning his cheeks pink and tearing a broken sob from his throat. Finally, Dean's grip on his hair was gone, allowing Sam to turn his face away from his brother. He wanted to hide – he didn't want Dean to see him like this. The demon had managed to break him, and Sam couldn't let Dean see him like this.

Seeing Sam covered in his cum had a satisfied moan slipping from between Dean's parted lips. Taking two fingers, Dean slid his digits through his spunk, smearing it into Sam's skin before he forced his fingers past Sam's lips and teeth. His free hand came up to grip Sam's hair once more, pulling roughly when Sam bit him. “Tastes good, doesn't it, Sammy?” Dean smiled, pressing his fingers roughly against Sam's tongue before he pulled them from his younger brother's mouth.

“You're filthy,” Dean remarked after a moment, shoving away from Sam. Quickly, Dean moved to grab the discarded cuffs he'd made Sam wear while he was gone, plucking them from the floor. “Gimme your hands,” Dean ordered, roughly crossing Sam's wrists over each other as he locked the metal rings in place once more. “C'mon, let's get you cleaned up.”

Each time Dean tugged on the metal chain connecting the cuffs together, pain shot through Sam's right arm. He had no choice but to stumble through the bunker behind Dean, completely at his brother's mercy. When Dean led him into the bathroom, Sam wasn't sure if he should be scared or relieved. “Dean,” he whispered, biting into his bottom lip as he watched his brother turn on the water.

Without a word, Dean turned to Sam, releasing the younger man from his cuffs. “Don't try anything stupid,” he warned, shoving Sam toward the shower. “Get in.” He watched as Sam did as he was told, quickly climbing in after him. “Is it warm enough, baby?”

The sudden gentle and caring tone in Dean's voice confused Sam. “Y-Yeah,” he answered with a nod, unable to help but curl in on himself in his attempt to get as far away from Dean as possible. “It's fine.” He swallowed thickly once more when Dean just stared at him, the younger Winchester wondering what Dean could possibly want. “T-Thank you.”

A wide smile came to Dean's lips when Sam thanked him. “You're welcome, Sammy,” he answered as he reached for Sam's shampoo. Popping the cap, Dean squeezed a generous helping into his palm. He glanced at Sam briefly then, motioning with his hand for the younger man to come closer. Dean couldn't help but smile when Sam did as he was told. He could tell that Sam was confused – a little scared, even – but at least he wasn't fighting him on this.

When he was close enough, Dean rubbed his hands in Sam's hair, lathering up the dirty strands with the shampoo. Sam always used this girly, fruity smelling shit – Dean actually kind of liked it. And it smelled a lot better than the odor Sam had been starting to get from lack of hygiene. Dean was going to have to come back more often and clean Sam so he didn't start to get dirty and stinky like this again. He made sure to work his fingers into Sam's scalp, getting Sam's hair good and clean. “Feels good, doesn't it, baby?” he whispered in Sam's ear, lips brushing against the shell.

It did feel good. As much as Sam hated to admit it. He'd always liked it when his hair was played with. Sometimes, when he wasn't on a hunt and he could slip away from Dean long enough, Sam would go to the salon just to have his hair washed. There was just something about having someone else's fingers massaging his scalp that made Sam relax. “Yes,” Sam whispered, not missing the pet name his brother had used for him.”But-But I can do it. You don't have to.”

“I want to,” Dean assured Sam, gripping the younger man's bicep when Sam tried to turn toward him. “I told you if you were good, I'd give you a reward. This is your reward. So just stand there and enjoy it. Without speaking.”

Once Sam quieted down, Dean maneuvered him so that he could rinse the shampoo from his hair. His eyes followed the shampoo as it slid down Sam's long body, washed away into the drain by the warm water. Again, his dick took an interest in the younger man. Dean was going to be inside him before he left this bunker this time.

After the shampoo had been washed from Sam's hair, Dean slicked Sam's hair full of conditioner, knowing that Sam had a strict routine. Now, it was time to move on to Sam's body. He was covered in dirt and grime, and Dean had every intention of getting all of that filth off of his brother. Grabbing the soap, Dean lathered it up in his hands, getting them all sudsy. “Time to get clean, Sammy,” Dean explained with glee. “Why don't you turn around here so I can see what I'm doin'?”

Sam knew that it wasn't a request. Sniffling slightly, Sam steeled his features, not willing to let this demon see how much he was breaking him as he turned to face him. His eyes slipped closed when Dean's hands landed on his shoulders, massaging the soap into his skin. Dean took his time, making sure every inch of Sam was clean before moving on to a new section. His whole body tensed when Dean squatted down in front of him, his hands working the muscles of Sam's thighs. Sam sure as hell didn't like Dean down there in that area.

Still, Sam kept quiet, knowing that if he said anything, Dean would probably get pissed. He couldn't suppress the whimper that broke from him when Dean's hands slid back up his legs, palms sliding over the firm globes of Sam's ass. As Dean rose to his full height, one hand slid around to Sam's front, strong fingers wrapping around his flaccid cock. “Dean...please...don't,” Sam whispered, biting into his bottom lip.

The instant Sam tensed up, Dean knew he was going to try to fight this again. “Stop me,” he challenged, knowing that Sam wasn't stupid enough to believe he could win if he chose to fight. This was happening, and there was nothing Sam could do to stop it. “You know you can't. You know I'd win if you tried. And it'll be worse for you when you piss me off.” Groaning softly, Dean slipped a soapy finger in the crack of Sam's ass, teasing at the furled muscle there. “Just take it, Sammy.”

For a small fraction of a second, Sam thought about fighting. Dean had told him to stop him – had given him permission to fight. But then Dean was speaking again, reminding Sam that anything he tried would be futile – it would be for nothing. Dean would win. Sam couldn't beat him – not like this. “I can't,” Sam whimpered, shaking his head as he clenched his teeth together once more.

There was no warning before Dean shoved his finger into him, causing pain to shoot up his spine. “Yes, you can,” he heard Dean assure him. When Sam looked at Dean again, his eyes were onyx once more. Roughly, Sam was shoved face first into the shower wall. Instinctively, he shot his hands out to catch himself, causing pain to explode through his shoulder when his hand connected with the wall. He cried out in agony, voice cracking from the abuse his vocal chords were taking today.

Pressing his body close to Sam, Dean kicked the younger man's feet apart, settling between Sam's spread legs. “Relax, baby,” he cooed in Sam's ear, his finger fucking inside of Sam at a brutal pace, sliding soap inside the younger man's body to lubricate his way. “This is just the first finger. We still have two more to go. Maybe three. And then the fun can start.”

Tears welled up behind Sam's eyes once more as he was roughly handled. At this rate, his shoulder was never going to heal – not that Dean seemed to care as he pinned Sam's right wrist to the shower wall. He tried to do as he was told – to just relax in hopes that the pain would stop – but it was easier said than done. “D'n...” he begged, teeth clenched tightly against the pain.

“Oh Sammy, you know I love it when you beg,” Dean groaned, sucking the lobe of Sam's ear between his teeth before he nipped at the skin. “You want more, don't you?” Pulling his finger almost all the way out of Sam, Dean pressed a second finger along the first, brutally shoving them into his brother. He moaned softly as Sam cried out, loving the sound. “That's it baby,” he breathed, rubbing his growing erection against Sam's ass cheek. “Take whatever I give you. Such a good little slut.”

It wasn't long before Dean added a third finger, twisting to probe at Sam's abused hole. “Do you think you need another one, Sammy?” Dean asked, groaning softly in his brother's ear as he rutted against Sam's body. “I don't think so, either,” he agreed when Sam whimpered in response. “I need to be inside you, baby. Can't wait another minute.”

Paralyzing fear washed over Sam when Dean's fingers slid from his body with a sickening pop. Dean's words barely had time to register before Sam felt the blunt tip of his brother's cock pressing against his entrance. “Please?” Sam whispered, feeling his knees buckling under him. He couldn't do this – he couldn't take this anymore. At this moment, he would have rather been dead. “Dean, don't, please?”

Not listening in the slightest, Dean slapped Sam's ass in warning. “Shhh,” he shushed, his right hand gripping Sam's hip with bruising force. “You're gonna love it, Sammy. Just relax.” That was the only warning Sam got before Dean thrust into his brother's unwilling body, another smile curling at his lips when Sam's screams filled the room. “Yeah baby, that's it,” Dean encouraged. “Scream for me.”

Without giving Sam any time to adjust to the invasion, Dean started moving. He pulled almost all of the way out before slamming back in, his grip on Sam's hips forcing the younger man back against him to meet each thrust. Sam felt like he was being split in two – his vision went white hot with pain, and he wished that he would just pass out. But he wasn't even given that luxury. Apparently, God really hated him.

As his torment continued, Sam felt something sticky and wet sliding down his thighs – he didn't have to look down to know that it was his own blood. “Dean,” he cried, his voice breaking on a sob as he pressed his head against the cool wall of the shower. “Hurts...please?” He hated that this demon had done this to him – had turned him into a sobbing mess. But he hated it even more that his body was responding to it. This thing was wearing Dean's face, and Sam was responding to it – responding to his brother.

“C'mon Sammy,” Dean moaned, his breath hitching with each thrust. “Don't act like you're not enjoying this.” Slowly, Dean's right hand circled around Sam's abdomen, strong fingers wrapping around Sam's semi-hard cock. “You want this just as much as I do. And you can say you don't all you want, but your body doesn't lie, Sammy.” Angling his hips just right, Dean jerked his hips, smiling cruelly when Sam gasped in pleasure, his cock twitching in Dean's hand.

Another sob tore from Sam's throat when Dean's cock brushed against his prostate. Everything Dean was saying was true. Sam's body did want this – wanted Dean. Sam had known that since he was old enough to understand lust. But he'd fought it – always fought it because that was the right thing to do. But now, there really wasn't any point in it. Right now, all he could do was stand there and let Dean do whatever he wanted with his body.

It seemed like Dean's assault lasted forever. His brother's hand was jerking his cock with each thrust, driving Sam wild with need. “Dean...” he breathed, straight white teeth capturing his lower lip in an attempt to stop the moans that wanted to break from him. “Please...gonna cum. Dean...I-I can't...please?”

When Sam told him that he was going to cum, Dean felt a sense of triumph wash over him. “Do it, baby,” he groaned, moving his hips in a circular motion against Sam's body. “Cum for me, Sammy. Cum for your big brother.”

As soon as Dean gave him permission, Sam's hips jerked one last time before he was shooting his seed onto the shower wall. His fingers dug into the cool fiberglass, trying to keep himself grounded. The whole time, Dean stroked him through his orgasm, milking him for every last drop.

Dean groaned loudly when Sam came, the younger man's inner muscles clenching tightly around his cock, pulling him over the edge with Sam. His whole body stilled as he filled his brother, Dean's grip on Sam's cock tightening along with the grip he had on Sam's hip. “Fuck Sammy,” Dean groaned, head falling to rest between Sam's shoulder blades.

He didn't give Sam time to recover before he pulled out of him, flipping the younger man onto his back and holding him against the wall. Roughly, Dean crushed his lips against Sam's, claiming the younger Winchester's mouth. “Let's get you all cleaned up, baby. I think you've earned another reward,” Dean breathed against Sam's lips, his eye brows wagging mischievously.


Sam wasn't sure how it happened, but he managed to get away from Dean. He barely remembered fighting back. All he remembered was that Dean had The First Blade, and there was this look in his eyes that promised pain, and Sam just lashed out. Luckily, he'd been able to pull on a pair of baggy sweatpants before Dean recovered. Now, he was running through the bunker in some semblance of a cat and mouse chase in his attempt to get the upper hand with Dean once more.

All he had to do was get Dean back into that room with the Devil's Trap. If he could manage that, he could give Dean more treatments, and then everything would be okay. Dean would be human again, and Sam would finally have his brother back. It sounded easy, but he knew that it was going to be a damn near impossible task.

But he was ready for the challenge. He had the demon killing knife, and he had the handcuffs that would hold Dean and weaken him. Sam was ready. At least that's what he thought. When the opportunity to use the knife presented itself, Sam chickened out – he couldn't use it. Not on Dean.

Fortunately, just as Dean was about to come at him again, Castiel appeared, his strong arms wrapping around Dean as his brother's eyes bled to onyx and he screamed out his rage. Castiel just kept repeating to Dean that it was over, holding him tightly as he screamed. The whole time, his onyx gaze was locked on Sam.

It took a few hours, but Sam finally finished the treatments. He and Castiel both held their breaths as they waited for Dean to wake up. Only when the older man looked at them with those jade green eyes and he didn't react to the holy water Sam splashed on him did they finally release that breath. Now that Dean was human again, Sam didn't know where they stood, but he was determined to make sure they were good.

After about three hours, Sam finally emerged from his brother's room, smiling at the angel waiting for him in the main living area when Castiel asked him how Dean was doing. “He's uh...he's doing alright,” Sam assured him. “He's still a little out of it, but better, I think. I mean, I think the whole thing – the blood cure, and the...all of it – really wrecked him, you know?” Sam wasn't sure how much Castiel knew, and he wasn't sure how much Dean remembered, but he wasn't about to disclose any information to either one of them just yet.

“On the plus side, he's hungry again,” Sam continued. “So I'm just going to go pick him up a big ol' bag of crap food and stuff it in his face myself. You mind keeping an eye?” Dean may have been cured, but that didn't mean Sam was willing to leave him alone quite yet.

Before Sam got too far, Castiel stopped him. There was something weighing on him, and he needed Sam to see the gravity of the situation. “You realize one problem is solved, but one still remains?” Castiel prodded. “Dean is no longer a demon, that is true. But the Mark of Cain...that, he still has. And sooner or later, that's going to be an issue.”

Yes, that had crossed Sam's mind a time or two. But Sam was tired. He didn't have the physical, nor the mental energy to deal with that right now. “You know what, Cas? I'm beat, man,” Sam explained, chuckling humorlessly. “One battle at a time, you know? So I'm just gonna grab my brother some cholesterol. And then, I'm gonna get drunk.” Because boy did he need it.

Without giving Castiel a chance to say anything else on the matter, Sam hurried out of the bunker. He just wanted to forget this whole ordeal had ever happened. And until something came along to make him remember this, he was going to try his hardest to forget.