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The Song Changes

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“Now this is what I call heaven on earth,” Dean grinned salaciously at the private show. The model who’d appeared at the start of the catwalk was dressed in nothing but black lace panties and a stunning set of matching wings. The black wings stretched out to either side of him, held on by a leather harness over his broad shoulders.

As Dean watched the tall muscular figure make his way down the catwalk his eyes were drawn to hipbones sharp enough to cut your tongue on. The spotlight at the end of the catwalk illuminated his brother’s figure, displaying miles of muscled flesh for Dean’s viewing pleasure. Sam flung his hair back and posed dramatically – and seriously, shampoo commercials had nothing on Dean’s little brother. His brother slid a hand down over his firm stomach to dip teasingly under his lace panties, revealing a hint of dark coarse hair in the process, and cupped an impressive bulge.

“Come here,” Dean demanded impatiently, he was already tired of being unable to touch. He licked dry lips and reached down to pull his rapidly hardening cock out from his too-tight jeans. “I’ve got something you can wrap those pretty lips around.”

Sam’s bare feet landed silently on the ground in front of him, and then his gorgeous body was sliding down into a kneeling position between Dean’s spread legs. His brother stared up at Dean’s length with hunger in his eyes, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips as Dean stroked himself from base to tip. Before he could make a move to push his dick into that sinful mouth, Sam burst into motion and shoved his hand aside. In the next moment his cock was buried balls-deep in one move down the other man’s throat. Dean gripped Sam’s long dark hair with a yell of shocked pleasure and felt the talented throat swallow tightly around his length.

“Yeah, that’s it baby boy, you’re taking it like a pro,” he gasped.

Dean spread his legs a little wider and slipped further down the chair, trying to give the warm mouth on his cock more room to work. He thrust up instinctively, but he’s held back by a hard grip on each thigh. His brother was forcing him to take only what he’s given, and Dean was not-so-secretly turned on by that, something Sam well knows. Despite their relative positions, Dean knew he wasn’t the one in control here.

Lips and tongue moved expertly over his length, dragging small sounds out of him as he strained against the hold. His hands had a mind of their own; one clenched in long hair, the other stroked down Sam’s cheek down to where he could feel his cock bulging as it moved in and out of Sam’s throat. A loud moan from his brother sent vibrations through his dick, and he couldn’t help but let his eyes fell shut as he fell back against the seat.

“This is what you dream about?” His green eyes flew open in shock at the interruption.

“Anna?” he yelped incredulously. Then hissed as the jaw he was buried in pulled off abruptly and teeth scraped against his sensitive flesh.

“Does your brother know that you dream of him?” She asked curiously. Dean didn’t much like the way she was staring at his brother, like most of the angels did, like he was nothing, like he was abhorrent.

Even in his own head, his brother was more with it than he was, because he moved to carefully tuck Dean back into his jeans – and damn it he’d forgotten he was hanging out for all to see! - and pulled his shirt down over his waning erection. With a narrowed glare of displeasure, the dream version of his brother rested his head sulkily against Dean’s thigh, and refused to acknowledge the intruder.

Dean kept one hand on his brother’s head, taking comfort from the feel of his hair and the slight press of a pulse against his fingertips. “So uh, this is awkward. Why are you gate-crashing my head? Don’t you know a man’s dreams are private? Why don’t you just swing by the motel?”

Anna stared blankly, the unchanging expression made it hard to tell if she’s annoyed that Dean avoided properly answering her first question. “I can’t find you,” she said finally, apparently having decided to ignore the near naked man and rampant incestuous dream.

“Oh, Cas did this thing,” Dean gestured at his ribs with his free hand.

“Cas. Right. Now, there’s a friend you can count on,” Dean stared at the surprising amount of sarcasm that dripped from her even words. He wasn’t sure where she was going with this. Sure Anna had been the equivalent of Castiel’s boss for probably millennia, but Cas certainly hadn’t had any qualms when he helped Uriel track her down the previous year before her grace was returned. He was pretty sure Cas didn’t consider her a ‘friend’. In truth, he’d fairly clearly gotten the impression that the fact that she’d abandoned her brothers and sisters and ripped out her own God-given grave really hadn’t endeared her to her fellow angel.

“What?” he prompted, in an attempt to get her to hurry along the conversation when she was clearly waiting for a response.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Cas had said a lot of things to Dean lately, once or twice even about Anna and his former garrison. But more often they’d spoken of less serious topics. Like why little people lived inside the small box. After explaining television to Cas, the angel had somehow gotten addicted to some show about a bunch of nerds who befriended a hot girl and made a lot of geeky jokes. Dean hadn’t been surprised when Castiel had become enamored with the tall physicist who had no social boundaries and couldn’t understand sarcasm.

“Where I’ve been. Of course not, why would he?” there she went again, making assumptions.

“Oh that, no, Cas did mention that. Said you’d ended up in the same placed he did last year when he refused to toe the company line. Prison, upstairs. All the torture of hell, with trice the self-righteousness,” he said with a wink.

“Did he mention that he was the one who turned me in? He was always a good little soldier, did anything under orders.”

“With all that reprogramming, I really can’t blame the little guy. ‘Specially since he broke through it and decided to be best buddies with us again,” and he couldn’t help but really feel like she was trying to drive a wedge between Dean and his favorite nerd angel. And that was just not on.

“Look, I broke out, barely, and I really don’t have much time. They’re looking for me, if they find me-“ it was almost like they were having two different conversations.

“What do you need, Anna?” Dean interrupted and his face fell into a hard stare. He was getting sick of her round-a-bout method of imparting whatever it was she was here to say. He still had some unfinished business to attend to and he was quickly losing his patience with the formerly fallen - and formally much cooler - angel.

“Meet me. Two-two-five industrial. And, please, just hurry.” Anna vanished as suddenly as she’d appeared. Apparently she thought something Dean had said or done indicated that he would come at the snap of her fingers.

“She gone?” he asked Sam. His brother was much better at the mind stuff, and he’d know if there was another presence in their heads still. Sam squinted in concentration for a moment then nodded.

“Good, then we’re free to talk.”

Sam lent back onto one arm and stared up at him. “You think she knew I was here?”

“Sammy, you were kind of hard to miss, Baby,” Dean said with a tug on one wing. He was more than expecting the bitch face at his deliberate misunderstanding of his brother’s words.

“I mean, do you think she realized we’re sharing dreams? I couldn’t exactly see her face from down here.”

“Hard to say with the ol’ stone-face, but probably not. I doubt she would have said so much around you. I think she likes me better.” He smirked, thinking of when she’d tried to hit on him a year ago, before she’d gotten her angel-juice back. Never mind that he hadn’t noticed she’d been hitting on him until Sam had pointed it out later. “As far as she knows this was just an embarrassing fantasy.”

“Is that what I am? An embarrassment?” Sam asked with pouted lips. Dean couldn’t take him seriously with that expression. With a huff of laughter, he leaned down to kiss it off his face.

Eventually they came up for air. “You know this meeting is some kind of trap right?” Sam asked, his clever mind already planning ahead. And multi-tasking, as he pulled at Dean’s jeans to tug them open and all the way down his legs.

“Obviously, I’m not an idiot,” Dean said with a roll of his eyes and punished the presumption with a rough tug on Sam’s girly hair. “Cas came out of that prison acting like a pod person. If she’s out it’s because they want her out. She’s either here to kill us or take us to the other angels so they can try to convince us to say yes.”

“So we send Castiel?” Sam asked as he pushed his hands up under his older brother’s shirt to roam across his hard stomach.

“Definitely,” Dean pulled the offending shirt over his head, giving Sam free reign. He squirmed as a tongue pressed hard into his navel. “Now can we please stop talking about angels? It’s really killing the mood and I still haven’t gotten to the best part of this dream.”

“She’s expecting you,” Sam pointed out, giving the tip of his leaking cock a firm lick.

“She can damn well wait half an hour,” he groused. “She’s expecting to wait for me to wake up and drive there anyway. Cas can be there in seconds,” Dean gripped Sam’s hair tighter, using double fistfuls to pull Sam upwards until he was seated on Dean's lap. As much as loved his brother worshipping his dick, he wanted to move this along to the main event.

Forcefully, he claimed his brother’s lips, plundering his mouth with tongue and hard teeth. Sam gave as good as he got, biting at Dean’s bottom lip with his teeth and battling with his tongue until he was pressing his way into Dean’s mouth instead. Someone moans, possibly both of them, as Sam grinds against him causing delicious friction as two cocks were pressed between solid abs and a single layer of soft lace.

Dean pulled at the panties impatiently, needing them off right the fuck now. Sam, the bendy slut, rose up onto his knees and contorts his body so he can help get them down his long legs and off each foot. He placed Sam’s hand on his shoulders, pressing them there firmly with a silent command to leave them there and stay raised on his knees so Dean can reach around to get him ready.

He's grateful that the dreamscape responds to his whims as he slipped two fingers suddenly slick with lube all the way into Sam’s hole. Sam arched back with a gasp, his wings dipping to scrape against Dean’s legs. His hands clenched on Dean’s shoulders hard enough to bruise. Or what would be hard enough, if they were actually awake, and actually physically doing this.

Sam was riding his fingers like he would Dean’s dick within seconds, forcing the long digits to press where he wanted them. “Just do it,” he begged brokenly.

“Yeah? You want this in you, little brother?” he asked, removing his fingers so he could grasp his aching erection. He’d barely had time to prepare Sam, but they can’t hurt each other here. Not permanently. And anyway, Sam’s real body was currently curled around Dean in their motel bed, passed out after Dean had fucked him senseless only hours earlier. The younger man’s body would be sending the signal to his brain that he's more than capable of going again, hole still stretched enough to accommodate Dean a second time. “Why don’t you show me how much your greedy hole wants my dick?”

Sam responded by positioning his ass so he can force himself down on Dean’s thick length. He was making the most beautiful panting groans by the time he was resting on Dean’s thighs.

“Fu-uck,” Dean moaned, his hands moved by reflex to grip at Sam’s ass and knead the firm flesh.

“That’s the idea, big brother,” Sam gasped, knowing how Dean gets just as turned on at the appellation. He's already started to rock his hips, not waiting to adjust. His hands, still gripped tightly on Dean’s shoulders, push heavily so that he can get the leverage to lift almost all the way off and drop back down again. “So get to it.”

Dean responded by spreading his legs a little more, forcing Sam’s long limbs further apart and then thrust up hard into him. The movement against his prostate had Sam crying out in pleasure, and Dean wanted to rip more of those beautiful sounds out of him. So he did it again, and again.

Unable to get physically tired, he could do this forever. And they’d certainly spent entire nights with their minds and bodies entwined together before. But they had places to be, so he reached between their bodies to take hold of Sam’s cock. With quick, practiced movements he jerked his brother off just the way he liked it.

Their mouths clashed together again, and he swallowed the yell that the other man let out as he slid a nail across Sam’s slit. Body stiffening, Sam came explosively all over his hand. The clenching of Sam’s body around his dick was almost but not quite enough to make him come.

Sam fell boneless against him, but Dean wasn’t done yet. He pulled out, but only so he could grab hold of Sam's arm and twist him around forcefully to push him face-first onto the knee high catwalk. Sam ended up with half his body hanging off the catwalk, perfect ass on display for Dean's greedy eyes. It didn't take long for Dean to fall to his knees behind his brother. With a hand on each cheek to part them, he forced his cock back into the heat of Sam's body. The position gave him the extra leverage he needed to thrust hard and fast. Sam’s body jerked with the forceful movements, but he was still too blissed out to do much but clench his muscles feebly around Dean and moan prettily.

It was enough. Dean came hard after a dozen fast thrusts, spurting warmly into Sam’s tight heat. When the last of his orgasm trailed off, he collapsed across Sam's back. He was breathing hard, but more because his mind thought he should be then because his body back in the motel needed the oxygen.

“Well they ain’t letting you back into heaven, you look positively sinful,” Dean said with a faceful of feathers. “I guess we should wake up,” he added, without any real passion.

He didn’t even have to see Sam’s face to know it was twisted into another of his epic bitch faces at the interruption to his post-orgasmic bliss. But after a moment Sam's body tensed in concentration and their dreamscape fell away. In the next instant they were no longer lying in an empty club but in the motel bed they had fallen asleep in.

Dean pulled away from Sam reluctantly, his body extremely rested and sated despite all the exertion they’d just been doing in their sleep. He kicked the blankets off, grimacing as cool air hit their sweaty and sticky bodies. “Come on, Bitch, we gotta clean up quickly. Then call Cas.”

“Fine, Jerk,” Sam said with a grumble, his legs a bit shaky as he climbed to his feet. “But tomorrow night we’re doing one of my fantasies. Maybe this time you can be the angel. Only you can be the Devil, and I’ll be God, and I’ll spank you till you’re begging Daddy for forgiveness.”

“Kinky role-play of the incestuous and sacrilegious kind, Sammy? I think I’ve corrupted you, I’m so proud!” A pillow hit him in the face as his brother retreated across the room with a smirk and swagger.

Dean stared at his brother’s firm ass until he disappeared from view. He jumped out of bed to follow Sam into the bathroom. Anna could wait a bit longer.

Chapter Text

February 4, 2010

Sam never did get his turn the next night, because Sam died. Again.

Dean had his head rested against Sam’s chest, re-attuning all of his enhanced senses to his brother, his guide. His brother’s heartbeat resonated through his body. The deep and steady tha-thump of his most vital organ pushing blood around his veins was the most beautiful sound in the world right now.

His nostrils were flooded with the scents of sweat, pheromones and semen, the aftermath of their frantic love-making. He could taste Sam on his tongue, and in the air, it was a mixture of salt and musk and Dean’s own odor spread across his tanned skin. Every inch of his skin that was pressed to Sam’s side was alive with sensation, he could feel not only warmth and the soft scratch of body hair, but the subtle movements of his pulse, the strong rise and fall of his chest, and the slight tremble in his tired muscles.

“Hey, I’m fine,” Sam soothed, running his hands down Dean’s back.

“Six minutes,” Dean whispered, and tried to press impossibly closer. “You were dead for six minutes.”

1978

Uriel punched Dean repeatedly in the kitchenette, and the angel had to be pulling his blows because he was strong enough to take Dean's head off in one hit.

Over Uriel’s shoulder, he saw Anna grip John’s chin and force him to his feet, then shove John through the window with one thrust of her palm to his chest.

He watched helplessly as Sam climbed to his feet dazedly amidst the rubble of the door he had been thrown through. He stepped in front of the woman who would be their mother one day, the woman who currently had a small life growing inside her that will grow up to be Sam’s sentinel. Sam was futilely trying to protect her – or maybe his unborn brother - from the angel in front of him.

Sam noticed the discarded angel blade at the same time as Anna did, but he was closer. Anna punched a hole in the wall and ripped out a piece of pipe, moving much faster than Sam. Dean realized what was about to happen the same moment Sam did, watched as his brother desperately reached for the angel blade only steps away. But he was moving slow, sluggish from a cracked skull, bruised ribs, and the echoes of pain he was getting from Dean. Before he could get his fingers around it, Anna was in front of him,

And for the second time in his life Dean was forced to watch helplessly as his brother was fatally impaled. Dean could feel the agony as the pipe thrust into Sam’s flesh, could hear the shattering of his bones and tearing of his muscles as it was forced up into his chest.

Sam fell back against the wall, gravity forcing him downwards with the pipe wedged into his ribcage. He clutched at the pipe uselessly as blood bubbled up through damaged lungs and out his lips.

“Sammy!” Dean yelled, anguished as all of his senses told him undeniably that his brother was dying. He struggled, but Uriel’s grip on him was stopping him from running to his brother’s side. Their eyes met across the room and Dean’s ears were filled with the terrifying sound of Sam gasping for breath as his lungs flooded with blood. His brother’s heart beat, usually so strong, was failing, slowing with every beat.

~I’m sorry,~ Sam whispered into his mind.

~Don’t leave me, Sammy! Please!~ Dean sent desperately. Sam couldn't die, not here. Back home, in their own time, they had Lucifer’s promise to bring Sam back if he died or tried to off himself. It’s one of the only good things about the shit storm that was their lives right now. But the Devil was still trapped in the Cage in 1978, doesn’t even know his true vessel was here, let alone dying. ~ Sammy!~

But he's not even sure if Sam heard him, because his brother’s mental voice fell silent and he slid bonelessly to the ground. As his head hit the floorboards, his heart stuttered to a stop.

“Sam!” Dean screamed as their bond snapped. His senses started to spike wildly, out of his control. Too many sounds to distinguish were roaring in his ear, every sound for several miles thundering into his eardrums. There were a million insects screaming their mating calls, rustles as animals move through the trees and across leaf littered ground, the wind was screaming. It all easily overpowered the angels and human in the room with its sheer enormity.

Everything was too bright, the faint light in the room suddenly blinding; and the taste of blood in his mouth threatened to make him vomit. The pain of dozens of bruises and cracked bones was amplified, his sense of touch causing his pain receptors to flare.

All of that was nothing though, compared to the burning, soul-tearing sensation that rushed through his mind and body at his brother's loss. The hand around his throat squeezed tighter as Dean slumped in Uriel’s grip, but it was barely noticeable compared to the agony of a broken bond. Dean had the strongest desire for that hand to tighten further and just snap his neck. He was nothing without Sam, didn’t know how to function without him.

Even before his return from Hell had finally activated his sentinel genes, before Sam became absolutely vital for him to function, he hadn't lasted long when his brother first died. Only one day before he'd summoned up a demon to bring him back. Now that they were bonded, their souls were so tightly wound together that it felt like they were two bodies with one mind some days. Their thoughts and actions were so completely in sync that they barely had to start a sentence before the other was answering, and they were deadly sons-of-bitches when hunting together.

But now, half of his mind, his soul, Sam, was just gone. Dean felt like he was dying too, like he’d been cut down the middle and his mind was bleeding out.

The scent of blood, Sammy’s blood, was thick in the air all of a sudden, threatening to cause a sensory zone. Even with his senses flaring wildly out of control it's suddenly all he could concentrate on. He struggled to focus on anything other than the rich ferrous scent tinged so very vaguely with sulfur that he had memorized as his brother's unique blood.

He barely noticed as another angel entered the room wearing his father's body. Dean slumped against the kitchen cabinets as Uriel finally released his throat to step towards the newcomer.

"Michael," Anna had time to say, startled that the archangel had shown up personally on Earth.

Then everything just stopped, everyone in the room utterly still and every sound and smell instantly gone.

~Dean,~ the single syllable, formulated out of Sam’s mental voice filled his mind and it was the best thing he'd heard in forever. His brother was standing in front of him, whole and uninjured and perfect. For just a few moments he was filled with the greatest sense of relief.

Only then he realized there was still no heartbeat. And he can still see Sam's body sprawled motionless on the ground surrounded by a puddle of blood. The Sam in front of him followed his gaze to stare at his double and then turned back with a sharp laugh. ~Look at that Dean, not even death will break our bond completely! Remember, I promised you after Burkittsville that I wouldn't ever leave you willingly, and I won't, Dean. I can't. We leave together or not at all.~

With a shaky hand, Dean reached out to his brother, trying to believe that this was somehow Sam's spirit that had refused to leave his side, and not a trick that the angels were playing on him. Sam's fingers met his halfway, and instantly his mind was flooded with Sam, with their bond. No angel could fake that.

~Sammy,~ the single word had a thousand meanings depending on tone and situation. This time it shared with his brother his relief, his joy and his love at having him back - even if not completely.

His senses were still unable to pick up any of the sounds, smells or sights that he associated with Sam that he would normally use to keep his senses in check. But nor were his senses out of control anymore, at Sam's mental touch he had instantly dialed everything down to a near mundane level.

~Michael will bring me back, Dean. He has to. He needs me alive just as much as Lucifer does,~ even dead, Sam was ever the logical thinker and was managing to keep his head while Dean was struggling to even breathe. Maybe because Sam had the benefit of not having to breathe, he thought somewhat hysterically.

~Hey! Dean, you can do this,~ Sam said, getting right up into his space. He couldn’t feel flesh pressing against him, but he did feel an icy chill – like a ghost – and static electricity was running across his body causing every hair to stand on end. ~Find out what the angels want, play along, then everything will be fine. Okay?~

Dean breathed in shakily a few times, then fortified himself and nodded. ~I'll make them fix this, Sammy. And I ain't beyond calling on the devil himself if they won't.~

~It won’t come to that,~ Sam promised and pressed icy lips to Dean’s mouth. ~Do me proud, Sentinel.~

Time resumed, and Dean was face to face with the archangel Michael for the first time. And he watched with sadistic pleasure as the bitch who killed his brother was burnt from the inside out and Uriel was banished at a snap of Michael's fingers.

With Mary comatose on the ground, Michael believed them to be alone. Dean wasn't worried, he had his brother there with him still. Even when Michael insisted on talking before reviving Sam, Dean was able to inject the correct amount of sarcasm into the pointless conversation.

And somehow throughout it all, the archangel doesn't notice Sam pressed against his back, and wrapped around his mind. Dean realized that this was an extension of their sentinel and guide abilities, which had also proven undetectable by other angels they’d encountered. Sam would probably explain to him again later how the Norse pagan god responsible for sentinels had made his creations gifts immune to influences by other pantheons. Angels couldn’t tell that Sam and Dean were bonded - and unbreakable. And he wasn't sure how he knew, but he was certain that they could use that to stop the apocalypse.

Finally, when Michael had finished his posturing and monologue about destiny, he moved over to Sam’s fallen form. Dean had to restrain himself from getting between the angel and his brother. As much as he didn't want Michael touching Sam, it was a necessary evil he would put up with to get his brother fully back where he belonged.

The archangel pressed two fingers to Sam’s forehead, and Sam’s spirit visibly snapped away from where it was wrapped around Dean. Like a rubber band, Sam was dragged across the room and forced back into his newly revived body. At the same instance that his heart started beating again, there was once again only one version of his brother in the room. He barely had time to begin to process the sudden input of sensation he was getting from his restored brother, before Sam vanished and the pipe clunked to the floor.

Dean was left reeling once again, decades of time now separating him and his brother and stretching their bond impossibly thin. He leant heavily against the nearest surface and wished that Michael would hurry up and send him back to Sam so he could get rid of the ache in his chest and engulf all of his senses in his guide.

Michael rose to his feet and didn’t seem to notice – or more likely didn’t care - that Dean was seconds away from collapsing. “He’s home. Safe and sound. Your turn. I’ll see you soon, Dean.”

Two fingers brushed against his forehead, and in the next instant he was back in his motel room in 2010. And Sam was there, and he was alive, and Dean had little thought for anything else but his brother.