Set somewhere between seasons 3 and 4, when Dean's in Hell and Sam's trying to save him.

Warning: explicit Wincest

You're my big brother and I'd die for you

Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed in his motel room, clenching his fists and chewing his bottom lip.

Where was he?

It was almost an hour since he made the deal and she said she'd send Dean straight to him...

He was bracing himself for the act he had to put up for Dean. It was terrible, that the first thing he had to say to his brother after a month of missing him terribly was a lie. But it was inevitable.

He got up and started pacing the room, biting his nails.

Come on, Dean, where are you?

Finally, after agonizingly long minutes, there was a knock on the door. Sam tried to calm his rapidly beating heart with a deep breath, grabbed a shotgun and opened the door.

He knew exactly, who would be standing on the other side, but that still didn't prepare him well enough and now he froze. Dean was leaning against the wall, his eyelids halfway closed. His clothes was muddy and his face dirty, probably because he'd just had to dig himself up from a grave. It was surreal, every dream Sam'd ever had about Dean coming back to him coming true. The urge to run to him and hug him until they couldn't breathe was much stronger than Sam expected and he almost did just that. He just stared at Dean with an open mouth and his eyes started to water.

"Hi Sammy," Dean's lips twisted into something, that could have been mistaken for a grin on a very dark night, but it wasn't fooling Sam. Dean was confused and maybe even scared. The raspy and croaked voice, that almost didn't even sound like Dean's woke Sam up from his stupor.

"You don't get to call me that," he pointed his shotgun at Dean's chest and his heart clenched, when he remembered the last time he did it. But unlike in the Asylum, he wouldn't try to kill Dean now. Even though he had to convince Dean otherwise.

Dean didn't even try to fight him. He just raised his arms up.

"It's me Sam. I don't know how, but it's me."

"How dare you look like him?!" Sam yelled as he splashed some holy water from the small bottle in his back pocket in Dean's face. A part of him felt actually relieved, when it didn't react, because who knows? She might have tried to scam him.

"Don't move!" Sam hissed a command.

He closed his door on Dean's face and grabbed a silver knife from the nightstand. He closed his eyes and took a few more deep breaths to stop his hands from shaking. He did it. Dean was back.

The smile that formed on his face was gone by the time he opened the door again. Dean was obediently still leaning against the wall; he probably didn't move an inch. Sam grabbed Dean's arm roughly and made a small cut on his forearm. Cutting Dean felt even worse than pointing a shotgun at him, but it had to be done. It wasn't like it hurt much anyway. Pure red liquid bubbled up from the wound and Dean didn't even flinch, when the silver touched him.

"What are you?" Sam widened his eyes in a perfect pretence of disbelief.

"Just me," Dean answered quietly and shrugged.

Sam shook his head and backed away to his room, but this time he left the door open.

"No, no no no no, this isn't real. Right, it's a dream! I drank too much and passed out again and now I'm dreaming of having you back. Again." Sam sat down on his bed and looked around the room.

Dean followed him inside and he saw how his nose crinkled at the sight of the empty bottles tossed all around the room.

There was a part of Sam that was wishing, he got rid of them. It was the little brother in him that constantly craved his big brother's approval.

He winced at the sharp pain in his left arm. He looked up and saw it was Dean, who pinched him.

"No dream," he said. "Trust me, pinched myself like a dozen times already."

Okay, enough acting. Sam couldn't keep pretending any longer. Dean was here and Sam had so much to tell him. He looked up at his brother with tears in his eyes. Tears that were real.

"D-Dean?" he whispered.

Dean nodded. Sam launched himself from his bed right in Dean's arms. He knew he was crushing him, because his own ribs protested against the press of his body to Dean's, but he couldn't care less. After the worst month of his life, he was finally holding his brother's breathing body in his arms. He let the tears fall freely from his eyes. Dean was solid against him, holding him through the sobs, rubbing his back with one hand and caressing his scalp with another.

"Shh, Sammy," he whispered into his ear. "It's okay, little brother. I've got you."

Sam had to smile through the tears. It was such a Dean thing to say! Dean pulled away after Sam stopped sobbing and looked him in the eyes.

"You know, to be honest, I thought you had something to do with this," he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Sam swallowed, but shook his head.

"I have no idea how you got out, Dean." Lie. "But I wish I knew, so that I could thank them for bringing you back." Half a lie. "God, I missed you so badly!" An honest to God truth.

And then, without any warning, he kissed Dean. He didn't really mean to, not like this anyway. He wanted to take it slow, tell Dean how he felt about him and hope that Dean wouldn't freak out, even though Sam was more than positive, that Dean felt the same way. His big-brother-protective-shit didn't allow him to make a move on Sam, though and Sam had let it be. But after Dean was gone, he knew that was the biggest mistake of his life, right after getting killed.

He definitely didn't want to ambush Dean like that. Dean wasn't pulling away, but he wasn't responding either. Sam's brain took the control back and Sam pulled away, unable to meet Dean's eyes.

"Sam-"

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry, but I don't regret doing this. The whole time you've been gone, all I could think about was I should have told him. I don't expect anything from you. But I had to tell you. You had to know."

"Sam," Dean repeated, more urgent this time.

Sam finally looked up. The love and affection in Dean's beautifully green eyes were nothing in compare to what Sam was expecting, even if the answer was yes.

"I want this, too. Really. I have for longer than I care to remember. But we shouldn't. We can't."

"Don't do this, Dean. We shouldn't why exactly? I was killed. You went to Hell. We've been saving people ever since I can remember. We deserve this, Dean. We deserve something."

It was obvious, that Dean was fighting an inner battle and Sam was holding his breath to see, which side would win. When Dean opened his eyes, he was still torn. Sam kissed his lips, savouring the softness and sweetness, in case it was the last time he ever got to taste it.

"Tell me you don't want this, Dean," he whispered. "Tell me to stop and I will. I swear I will, just say the word." He meant that. He wouldn't force Dean into anything. But he wanted Dean to be the one to put a stop to this, since Sam didn't have a reason to, now that he knew, that Dean loved him back the same way Sam loved him.

"Shit, Sammy," Dean growled and pushed Sam backwards, until his knees hit the mattress and he fell down on it. Dean hovered above him.

"Am I still allowed to freak out about this tomorrow?"

Sam smiled and pulled Dean down to another soul-searing kiss, so that his eyes didn't give anything away. Oh yeah, Dean was going to freak out tomorrow.

For a long while they just kissed. Sam let his tongue slide over every inch of Dean's mouth, remembering the taste, the way Dean's tongue pressed against him in attempt to gain dominance. Every now and then Sam let him have it.

It was so beautiful he wanted to cry again. Despite everything that happened and what was yet to happen, Sam had never felt happier in his life. At first he thought, he would just spend the whole night cherishing and exploring Dean's mouth, but after some time, his body started to crave more. He slipped one of the hands that was roaming over Deans back under his shirt. Dean's skin was hot, soft and a little sweaty. And to Sam's surprise, completely scarless. He heard Dean's breath hitch and Sam's hand stopped moving. He looked up into his brother's eyes in a silent question.

Dean closed his eyes and pulled back to sit on his heels. Sam was missing his body heat and weight the second it disappeared. He studied Dean's face to know if he changed his mind, but then Dean took his shirt off slowly. When he tossed the shirt on the floor, he slouched a little and looked at Sam from under his eyelashes almost uncertainly. Dean Winchester, of all people, feeling insecure. Had it been any other day, Sam might have laughed.

Now he just sat up to face Dean and put his hand on Dean's chest, right over his heart. He actually just closed his eyes and felt the steady rhythm of the heartbeat. Another proof that Dean was really here with him.

He opened his eyes, when he felt Dean's fingers brush his collarbone and slide down his chest under the bottom hem of his own shirt. He took the hint and lifted his arms, so that Dean could get rid of it; his eyes never leaving Dean's, except for the short moment, when his shirt was peeled off over his head.

They didn't talk. All the questions were asked with looks and touches, because they were hardwired to understand each other wordlessly. Sam had a feeling that words might even ruin what they had, before it was even created.

He put his other hand behind Dean's neck and drew him closer for another kiss. His eyes fell closed. He felt Dean's tongue caressing the inside of his mouth, his hands run over his abdomen muscles, and then he pushed Sam's body back down with his own. The sensation of the skin-on-skin contact was overwhelming.

Dean's mouth slowly left his, but before he even had the chance to think of complaining, it was sucking and biting gently on a sensitive spot on his neck he didn't even know was there. Sam gasped. He felt Dean chuckle against his neck and then proceed to lick his way down to his nipple. Sam arched to the feeling of his nipple being sucked.

Dean shifted a little above him to move to his other nipple and their groins grinded against each other. He was well aware that he'd been rock hard for what seemed like hours now, but this was the first time he got the proof of Dean's own arousal. He moaned and arched his hips a little to gain more friction.

Dean above him stopped moving and rested his forehead on Sam's shoulder. He took a few deep breaths, as if to gather himself.

"How far do you want to go?" he whispered into Sam's ear huskily.

If Sam had been worried about words ruining the moment, he couldn't have been more wrong. The low, desire-coloured tone of Dean's voice was making his blood rush South in no time and the warm breath on his neck made him shudder.

"As far as you want," he breathed out. Then he caught Dean's head, drew him up and looked at him intensely. "Nothing more."

He knew very well, that Dean would have given up anything, everything if Sam just asked. But that was not what Sam wanted, not at all. He wanted this to be as much for Dean as it was for him.

Dean seemed to get the message and smiled, as if Sam's concern was something to be pleasantly surprised about.

He caught Sam's bottom lip between his teeth and sucked it in his mouth. Sam's eyes fell closed and he growled somewhere in the back of his throat. He opened his eyes wide again, when he realized, that Dean had opened the button fly of his jeans and was pushing them down. Dean noticed his surprise, stopped and pulled away a little.

"You sure?" His eyes searched Sam's face for any sign of uncertainty.

Sam nodded and lifted his hips to give Dean better access.

"Never been so sure in my life," he assured his brother.

As soon as his jeans were on the floor, he started working on Dean's as well. Soon they were in their boxers, sliding their bodies together, touching everything with everything they had.

Sam couldn't get enough of the way Dean felt, smelled and tasted. Not even a month in Hell changed anything about the soap-leather scent that accompanied Dean everywhere and that always felt like home to Sam.

"Dean," he moaned breathlessly.

"Sam," Dean grunted back.

"Dean, I want to," a whimper interrupted him for a moment, when Dean's hand slid down the bulge in his boxers. "I want to go all the way. I want it all. With you. Do you?"

Dean was mouthing the skin on his neck and processing the thought for a minute.

"Yeah," he nodded eventually. "I can do that."

"No, wait," Sam hissed and forced Dean back up to look at him. Dean doing this solely for his sake was exactly what Sam didn't want. "Do you want it? I'm fine either way. 'S just what I want, not what I need."

"It's exactly what I want, Sammy," Dean smirked and kissed him deeply, his hands disappeared in Sam's hair. Dean might have pulled a little harder than was comfortable, but Sam didn't complain.

"Tell me," Dean whispered into Sam's mouth when he broke off the kiss. "Have you ever been with a guy?"

Sam shook his head. He'd given it a lot thought during the years of his suppressed attraction toward Dean and he wasn't even sure he liked men. It was like he was hetero-and Dean-sexual.

Dean bit his lip. Never a good sign.

"Then I guess I should be on bottom," he said.

"Wait, what? You have?"

That surprised Sam. He was absolutely sure he knew everything about his brother. Things Dean didn't want anyone to know, and he would probably kill Sam, if he ever found out, Sam knew. Even before he became obsessed with his brother as a man, he was following him around, because Dean was a hero. Everybody envied Sam his big brother when he was little. Sam was generally a happy and smiling kid, but he was gloating, whenever Dean was around.

Presently, Dean looked away. Sam placed a hand on his face, because he didn't want Dean to be ashamed of anything, when it came to Sam. But the pained expression on Dean's face had Hell torture written all over it. Sam sat upright and gaped at Dean.

"They-they...hurt you?" He couldn't even bring himself to say it.

Dean was quiet, his lips pressed into one thin line.

"Dean! Oh my god, Dean!"

Sam was freaked out. That wasn't fair. Dean didn't do anything wrong, he didn't deserve to be tortured like this. He didn't deserve to be tortured like anything. There should be a special place in Hell for people that sacrificed their souls for the sake of someone else. Then Sam realized that Dean was doing it again, now, even though Sam thought he was being so careful with taking only as much as he was giving back.

"And you let me do this! You should have just told me no, I wouldn't have loved you any less for it! Why, Dean?" Sam demanded.

"I want this, Sam. I swear I do," Dean said and it sounded honest. Even his face didn't show any usual signs of lying or hiding the truth. "What we have, what we do," he gestured between them, "that's love, Sam. It feels like love. What they did..." Dean trailed off and his face was full of pain again. "It was nothing even remotely close to this," he said finally. "I had to do this, you know? I had to feel you, because-" Dean closed his eyes then and looked away, obviously unwilling to finish the sentence. But Sam was smart. There was a reason he got the full ride for Stanford.

"Oh my god," he gasped. "They used me to hurt you?"

Dean nodded.

"How long was I gone?" Dean asked.

"A month."

"Really? Only?" Dean sounded surprised. "Felt like ten years down there. They had plenty of time to dig out everything I tried to hide from them. That's how they found out about you."

Sam covered his mouth with his hand, because there were no words for this. He put his other hand on Dean's chest.

"We're not doing this. I can't."

The pain that was in Dean's eyes changed into something more present and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. Sam couldn't help but think it was him, who hurt him now. But he was just trying to do the right thing.

"Yeah, I understand. I wouldn't want me after that either, I guess."

He started getting up from the bed, but Sam pulled him into a hug. Leave it to Dean to always think the lowest of himself.

"Don't be an idiot," he whispered. "I still want you, that didn't change. I just don't want it now, like nobody of a right mind would force themselves on any other victim."

Dean's body stiffened and he started to pull away. Right, Dean Winchester doesn't do victim.

"But I was wrong," Sam hurried and pressed Dean's body against his even harder. "You're not a victim. You're a hero. You survived all that and still came here to be my big brother. And I love you."

With the last words, Sam felt Dean's arms wrap around him and he buried his head into the crook of Sam's neck. Sam was almost terrified, when he heard a quiet sob bubble up from Dean's chest, followed by wetness on his neck and shoulder, but he manned up and rubbed soothing circles on Dean's back.

"That's right. I love you. I'll always love you, no matter what. Shh, it's okay Dean. You're okay now."

After a while, Dean pulled back enough for Sam to reach out and wipe his tears away.

"I love you too," Dean whispered.

Sam smiled. He kept his face as readable and open as possible for Dean to know, that he was telling the truth.

"Let me do this, Sam, please," Dean looked up at him with pleading eyes. "I really want to do this."

Sam sighed, but nodded. "Okay, but I'm the one on bottom."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam was faster.

"They tortured your soul. It felt the same, but your body doesn't remember it. It would feel the same for you as it would for me. And I trust you not to hurt me any more than necessary."

Dean winced. Sam knew how he felt about hurting him, but there was no way he would take Dean in the way Hell had god knows how many times before. Wearing his face. Jesus Christ!

"But-" Dean started, but Sam cut him off.

"It's either that or nothing, Dean. Your choice."

Dean looked extremely uncomfortable with it, but nodded eventually.

"Okay," he resigned.

"Okay," Sam smiled and leaned in to capture Dean's lips with his. The mood was kind of ruined to just continue, where they left off, but Sam didn't mind. There was still time.

He lowered himself slowly on his back, pulling Dean down with him, but not breaking the kiss. He knew he had to coax Dean back into it patiently, because he was still too caught up in remembering and admitting to the things that happened in Hell, even though they were by no means his fault.

So he slowly stroked Dean's back and rubbed his foot on the back of Dean's leg, while licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue.

Finally, Dean's body fully relaxed on him and his breath quickened. Sam arched his hips against Dean's, earning a moan from him. Dean moved to his neck and then even lower, down his chest to his abdomen. He stopped there, to suck on the flesh right below Sam's navel. Sam was well aware, that the noises he was making were probably making him sound like a girl, but he couldn't help it. He felt his boxers being removed and gasped, when his dick ached on the contact with the air. When he opened his eyes, he saw Dean had removed his own underwear as well.

"You got something to use as lube? You know to make it easier," Dean scratched the back of his head nervously.

Sam scooted up and reached into the nightstand and pulled out a small bottle. When he handed it to Dean, he didn't miss the raised eyebrow and the amused smirk.

"What?" Sam frowned. "Was lonely."

Dean's smirk turned into something more like a sad smile and he reached his hand to touch his face.

"I'm sorry," he mutters.

"No," Sam enveloped the hand on his fingers with his own, pulled it to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on the top of it. "I am."

"Look at us," Dean laughed a little. "Bunch of girls."

Warmth spread over Sam's chest. Now that was the Dean he knew.

"Come here, then, Deana," he grinned and kissed Dean again.

"You might wanna...turn around," Dean said. He was still so nervous, it made Sam laugh, but he did lay down on his stomach.

His body tensed involuntarily, when Dean's hand touched one of his butt-cheeks. He willed it to let go and relax, but his body wasn't listening. He felt the mattress shift and then Dean was breathing into his ear.

"Relax, little brother. I'm gonna take care of you."

As he was speaking, he was running his hand across Sam's back and down his spine. He was doing it long enough, that Sam finally stopped tensing, whenever Dean touched his ass. The next thing he felt was Dean's finger, covered in lube, pressing into him.

"Fuck," Sam gasped.

Dean stopped trying to get his finger further in.

"We can stop, whenever you say."

"No, don't stop." That sounded too much like a plea, but Dean didn't call him on it.

Dean wriggled his finger inside him to stretch him enough for another finger. It didn't really hurt, but it still made Sam clench. Dean was patiently working him open with one hand, while still massaging his back with the other.

The third finger burned a little, but somehow, knowing it was Dean made the pleasure more intense than the pain. Then those fingers were out and the bed shifted again as Dean was positioning himself. Sam braced himself for the penetration.

"You ready?" Dean whispered.

"Ready," Sam nodded.

Dean's dick was huge, much thicker than those three fingers and even though the preparation saved Sam from any real pain, he still hissed because of the burning. Dean slid in as far as he dared without hurting Sam and then stayed completely still until Sam relaxed.

Sam took a few deep breaths and found himself relaxed enough, that it didn't hurt anymore. So he thrust back a little to get a little more of Dean inside himself.

"Easy, tiger," Dean chuckled, but thrust slowly all the way in. He leaned in, wrapped his arms around Sam's chest and hauled him up into his lap.

Sam was overwhelmed. It was everything he ever hoped it to be, and more. He loved Dean so much he felt his heart would burst out of his chest any minute.

"Oh, God, Dean," he panted.

"Yeah?"

"It's perfect."

Dean answered with a kiss pressed to the nape of his neck and then one of his hands was wrapped around Sam's cock. Sam bucked a little to the touch, but couldn't do much, unless he wanted to move away from Dean's dick buried deep inside of him.

"Go ahead. Move," Dean encouraged.

So Sam lifted up, into Dean's fist and back down, fucking himself on and into Dean, both at once.

His movements were getting faster as he was coming closer to orgasm. He felt Dean's breath on his neck come out harsher with every movement and his fist tightened slightly. Then Sam's back arched and he screamed his brother's name as he shot his load all over his lap and Dean's hand.

When he calmed down enough to be aware of anything else than the white light behind his eyes, he realized he stopped moving and Dean's dick was throbbing desperate for release inside his clenched hole, but Dean wasn't urging him to move. Sam leaned back on his brother, looked up into his eyes, darkened with lust and moved up and down again, while running his hand inside Dean's hair.

"Let go, big brother," he breathed out, not leaving Dean's eyes.

"Jesus, fuck, Sammy!" Dean yelled and came inside of Sam.

Sam rode him through his orgasm and then slowly got up enough for Dean's softening dick to pull out. He turned around and wrapped his arms around Dean's blissed out form.

Dean's eyes were unfocused, when he opened them and Sam had to smile. Fucked out Dean was even more beautiful than the usual one.

They collapsed down on the bed wrapped in each other. Dean was slowly stroking Sam's hair and Sam cuddled closer.

"I love you," he blinked sleepily at Dean.

"And I love you," Dean smiled and leaned down to kiss him.

The kiss was lazy and sloppy and soon they were just nuzzling each other's faces.

Sam felt Dean drifting off against him and he turned around to face the wall, so that Dean could spoon him.

"Night, Dean," Sam murmured.

"Night, little brother," Dean answered half-asleep.

Sam waited until Dean's breathing evened and deepened enough for Dean to be sound asleep and then let the tears he'd been holding fall. He was going to miss this so bad. It was much harder than he'd imagined it. But it was still worth it. Dean was here, he was alive and away from the torture, he didn't deserve.

Very carefully, he untangled himself from Dean's grip and got up. Dean sighed from his sleep, but didn't wake up, thankfully. Sam checked the time. 11:21 PM. He still had a little over 30 minutes left, so he took a piece of paper and a pen and started writing.

Dean,

You're going to be angry. Furious, at least. You're also not going to understand, but it was you who said "What's dead should stay dead."

I'm going to miss you, but I'm taking this memory of us with me and I know it'll help me withstand whatever torment Hell has for me.

Please, move on with your life, find a wife, have a kid. Leave hunting. Don't try to save me, you can't. It's not like they're going to buy your soul again.

I couldn't live without you either.

Love you always,

Sammy.

He put it in an envelope, wrote Dean's name on it and put it on the nightstand. Then he dressed up and quietly left the room. Outside he broke down. He wasn't sure if he wasn't killing Dean all over again, but he knew he couldn't leave him in Hell. This was the only way. Dean would do - Hell, Dean did exactly the same thing.

He looked up and dried his eyes. There she was, in the distance. He was here, on time and she was here, without hellhounds. Just like they promised they would. Sam slowly walked toward the red-eyed demon.

"Ready?" she asked him. She wasn't even smirking. She just held out her hand to him.

Sam turned around one last time and nodded.

"I'm ready."

For someone who desperately wants every story to have a happy ending, I tend to have rather sad ideas. My muse's evil. Feed her some reviews and perhaps she'll change her mind (;