Title: Possession

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rating: R

Spoiler: Season 3

Summery: It's been three years, four months and fifteen days since Dean's deal came due, and while Sam had dreamed every night of him coming back…this wasn't exactly how he pictured it.

Author's Notes: this came out of some sleep deprived conversations I had with my friends…just a random one shot that came to me out of no where, though I could expand on it if anyone would be interested. Anyway it's my take on after Dean's deal. Demon!Dean and shower fun!

Three years. Three years, four months and fifteen days since Dean's deal came due. Three broken years since Sam watched his brother walk off to meet his fate alone; unable to bare watching the hellhounds tear him apart anymore than Dean could bare to have him watch. Three years since Sam could remember even remotely feeling whole. He still took care of the Impala, listening to Metallica and Zeppelin, unable to let go of the last pieces of his brother, but there was nothing that resembled life in his eyes. Bobby checked up on him often still, though less so since it became clear that Sam had passed the suicidal stage in his grief and Sam occasionally stopped by for a visit. It was hard though, to know that when people looked into his eyes all they saw was emptiness. It must be doubly strange for someone who knew what he used to be like to see.

With a sigh, Sam turned away from the hollow eyed stranger in the mirror. He carefully removed his shirt to look at the damage the spirit from his latest hunt had done. It wasn't bad, three almost vertical slashes, long but not that deep….right through his tattoo. Sam closed his eyes, a lucky shot on the part of the ghost had left him venerable, great. That tattoo was one of the few things that kept the demons from, when they found him, getting inside him and merging their powers with his. Something they desperately seemed to want as of late. Carefully, Sam cleaned the wounds. He'd have to pick up an amulet from Bobby to wear until he had healed enough to repair the design, but the echo of loss at the thought of losing the original, which had so perfectly matched Dean's, was as surprising as it was bitterly ironic.

When he was done with the rough patch up, Sam moved out of the tiny bathroom and into the main part of the motel room. He still got two beds, it was a habit he never could quite bring himself to break. Laying down on one he flung an arm across his eyes, wrapping the other hand around the hilt of a knife. It was his new favorite sleeping position. Idly he mapped out the route to Bobby's in his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

&x&

When he woke up he was already sitting in the Impala.

At least you kept my car in good condition, which I'd totally kill you if you'd messed her up by the way, Dean's voice informed him conversationally. Sam tried to look around only to find he couldn't move his body.

Whoa, easy there tiger. Don't hurt yourself, I'm driving right now. Sam watched as his hand reached up to adjust the rearview mirror so he could see his reflection. Onyx eyes stared back at him above a familiar smirk, though one he'd never seen on his own face.

Dean? Sam thought wildly, terrified and euphoric all at once. What? How?

Sam, I thought you already understood what was going to happen when I went to hell. Do you need a refresher course? Dean replied, the smirk in the mirror widening. Been following you for weeks now, thought about possessing someone to get your attention but couldn't risk you exorcising me before I had a chance to explain. Damn lucky that spirit gored you where it did.

Sam was stunned, literally in the sense that Dean had total control over his body, and figuratively in that his mind couldn't wrap itself around more then Dean and Demon and Here. Dean, you're a demon.

Dean rolled his, no Sam's, eyes. Very good, Sam, you have been paying attention. Apparently demon-Dean was twice as sarcastic. Though Sam imagined three years in hell might do that to a person.

Dean, I mean, what happened? Sam figured that it was a relevant question though it didn't quite relay the underlying questions of why are you here? How long have you been like this? How did you get out of hell? and most importantly are you evil?

Sam felt himself shudder. Dude, I really don't want to talk about it. I can't, not yet, maybe not ever. Fuck if it weren't for Ruby I'd probably be ten kinds of Evil right now, but Sam, look I'm here, I don't want to kill people…mostly…I promise I'll explain as much as I can but, I really just want a hamburger.

A hamburger. It was so typically Dean to spend three years in Hell and come out craving a hamburger that Sam wanted to cry. Or maybe do a polka. Thankfully for his dignity, with Dean in control, he did neither.

Okay, Dean, but do you mind if I drive us there? Sam agreed.

Oh, yeah. Sure.

The black eyes were gone from the mirror and Sam could move his own limbs again.

"Dean?" Sam asked, almost afraid that this was some very vivid dream.

Yeah? Dean replied immediately.

Sam smiled slightly, and for the first time in three years it reached his eyes. "Just checking."

Hamburger, Sam. And curly fries. And, oh god, beer! Dean moaned.

Sam shook his head and drove.

&x&

Sam sat at a table in the local dinner and watched through his own eyes as Dean wolfed down a hamburger making little happy groans after every bite. Sam might have been embarrassed by some of the looks he was getting if he weren't so happy to feel his brother's presence again.

You have no idea how much I missed food, Sam. Dean though at him as he washed down another bite with a swig of beer.

Yeah, well my arteries hate you right now. Sam thought back, surprised at how easy it was to fall back into the familiar pattern of meal-time banter with Dean. Dean, man, I wont push but you have to give me something here. It's kind of unnerving to go from watching you walk away from me to waking up possessed.

I'm not going to tell you what Hell's like. One, I really don't want to think about it and two, I'm going to make sure you never have know what it's like. I can tell you this. The only reason I'm not a completely broken, twisted individual is because, well lets face it I wasn't entirely all there to begin with, and because your little demon-girlfriend Ruby made sure I hung on to my humanity as much as I could. She seemed to think that was the least she could do for you after destroying Lilith for her. Dean said, not pausing at all in his quest to savor every bite of food he possibly could.

She never, I mean I never saw her again after that. Sam replied.

Yeah, well that's because she was with me, mostly. Dean said. Seriously, Sam, we owe that girl like a big sacrifice….or, ya know, a steak dinner or something.

Let's go with the steak dinner, okay Dean? Sam said nervously.

Sorry, I said I mostly hung on to my humanity. There are still some….issues. Dean apologized.

Issues, well even the most well adjusted person in the world would come out of Hell with…issues, so Sam could understand. Kinda.

Yeah, okay.

I mean, C'mon, I'm friggin' smoke, man. You have no idea how weird it feels to have a body again. And dude, you're tall. How do you not get vertigo from being up so high? Dean went on.

Uh, Sam said eloquently, because really, what does one say to your demon-brother when he starts rambling? Where is your body Dean? I….We never did find it. Sam asked hesitantly.

In Hell somewhere, under close guard probably since my rather impromptu escape. Ruby's looking but no guarantee I'll ever get it back again. Dean shrugged…Dean made Sam shrug…oh hell, whatever. but she's looking. I figured I'll just hang out in you in the mean time.

Oh.

&x&

It had been three years, four months and sixteen days since Sam last saw his brother. While he had dreamed every night of him coming back…this wasn't exactly the way he had pictured it. Dean had agreed…reluctantly…to go see Bobby. Bobby who was two days drive away. Sam hadn't spent a significant amount of time around anyone in three years so suddenly being aware of your brother at all times took some getting used to.

A lot of getting used to.

Sam stood under the shower feeling extremely awkward. He was naked, irritatingly aware of his morning wood, and Dean was keeping up a running commentary in his head. Mostly about all the food he wanted to eat, and all the things he wanted to do now that he had a body again, but it was decidedly uncomfortable for Sam who's usual morning routine for the past three years of shower, jerk-off, dress, and head out was suddenly thrown off-kilter.

You going to do something about that? Dean asked suddenly, mid way through a detailed description of a spaghetti dinner.

What? Sam asked, confused for a moment before he realized what Dean meant. What! No Dean, that's… Sam trailed off, aware that he was blushing.

He could feel Dean's amusement. Shy?

I'm not jacking off with you in my head, Dean. Sam said flatly.

Sam, we don't know how long that may be. Are you going to just give up jerking off forever? Dean asked.

Yes.

Oh, hell no, Sam. I'm not living as a monk for the foreseeable future and neither are you. Dean said firmly.

Sam once again found himself an observer in his own body. Dean! What are you doing? Sam yelped as he felt a soapy hand travel down his stomach to wrap around his cock.

Just let me take care of you, Sammy. Dean whispered, his voice velvety soft in Sam's mind.

Dean! Sam was sure his voice would have been a squeak had he been able to use it.

Hush, Sammy. Dean ordered, slowly stroking Sam's erection.

Sam, while haveing no control over what was happening, could still feel every slick-soft sensation of his hand on his cock, his body arching into the pleasure while his mind tried to process what was happening.

Damn, you really are proportional huh? Dean teased softly even as he moaned into the sensations that he was washing over both of them.

Sam wasn't sure if this counted as incest or masturbation but it was by far the weirdest hand job he'd ever had.

Still he couldn't help but echo Dean's moan mentally as he felt a thumb brush across the head teasing the slit before rejoining the other fingers to twist downwards again. His hand, Dean's hand, the lines between them already so confused, blurred further as Dean deftly caressed them higher.

Dean, Sam wasn't sure what he was pleading for exactly as years of separation burned away with the sense of his brother permeating every part of him. Was he asking to stop or keep going? Or was he pleading for Dean to never leave him again? Maybe all of it and none of it. It had been too long since his body had felt something beyond a primal itch and aching numbness that the sensations of pleasure were almost painful in their newness now that there was no longer a Dean-shaped hole where his heart had been.

I'm here, Sammy, I got you. Dean replied even as Sam felt the orgasm flood through them both. Sam felt his own name slip through his lips even as he sighed Dean's in his mind. Sam felt a peaceful lassitude spread through him, a sense of completeness he'd long forgotten, and he felt his mind drift as Dean lulled him into a strange sort of sleep.

&x&

When Sam came to again, they were already driving. Dean had the windows rolled down and the music blaring as he tapped out the rhythm against the steering wheel.

"Hey, Sam. Welcome back. We should make it to Bobby's by late tomorrow if we shag-ass, but you have to make sure he doesn't try and exorcise me. Or slip holy water in your beer or something, that shit is painful," Dean said aloud. It probably should be disturbing to hear Dean's vocalizations coming from his own throat, but considering the circumstances, Sam wasn't entirely sure what couldn't be considered disturbing anymore.

Dean, uh, Well really, what does one say to your brother after jerking you off in the shower that morning?

"If I'm going to be hunting with you we have to find some way to keep me in you when you have to do exorcisms," Dean said, happily ignoring what he knew Sam was trying to talk about. "I was thinking we could do a binding link, like Meg did to you that one time." Sam could feel a flash of irritation from Dean at that memory.

Yeah, okay. Sam agreed, letting Dean avoid the subject. He had no idea what to say to it either. It had felt good, but because it was Dean, or just the first time in a long time that it had been more then a morning formality, Sam didn't know. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know, really.

Hey, Sam? Dean asked silently after an hour or so of driving.

Yeah?

I really missed you, Sammy. Dean said at last.

Sam wasn't sure if the tears he felt pricking at the corners of his eyes were his or Dean's. They both ignored them as Sam replied.

I really missed you too, Dean.

End