Title: Blood Song

Author: Wincesteriffic Kaz

Info: A castle, an island and men's bodies mysteriously drained of blood…what could possibly go wrong? Post 2x05 "Simon Said" Dean/Sam 6th in the "BYC Verse"

Author's Note: Last chapter. :D Hope you all enjoyed the ride! As usual, my love beta, Janice went through this, added a few lines and made it even better. She's brilliant folks. Throw her cookies…or coffee…or both. She deserves them. I overwork her horribly.

Graphic depictions within.

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em but if I did…they'd never get dressed. Heh heh heh

~Reviews are Love~

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Dean grinned and reached behind Sam to give his ass a firm slap. Though they teased and chatted as they walked, Dean's eyes were scouring the area around them as were his brother's. To anyone looking, it would appear as though they were just taking a stroll unless you realized the way their eyes were cataloguing everything around them from the trees to large bushes where someone might hide.

"Dean." Sam staggered to a halt as pain lanced through his head and only Dean's arm as it slapped out across his chest stopped him from tumbling to his knees.

"Sam?" Dean pushed him upright and looked into his face. "Oh, crap. Again? Hold on, Sammy. Hey. Look at me." He took his brother's face in his hands, but Sam's eyes were already glassing over and taking on that faraway quality that said he was seeing things Dean couldn't. "Dammit, come on! Sam!" Sam's legs went out from under him and Dean dropped to his knees, holding on to him while fear gripped him. "Ok. It's ok. I gotcha. Man, I HATE these damn visions." He pulled Sam in against him and prepared to wait it out and deal with whatever new horror his little brother had been shown.

Chapter 11

Sam gasped as he came back to himself, thrown out of the vision, and felt his brother's strong arms holding him firmly. "Dean!"

"Easy. Easy. I'm here." Dean kept a tight hold of him as his brother sagged and curled forward to rest his head on his shoulder. He knew the visions made Sam's head feel like it was splitting apart and, so soon on the last, it had to be agony for him now. He soothed his fingers into Sam's hair, rubbing at the back of his head, down his neck and back up again to try and relieve some of the pressure. "Take it easy."

"I saw…" Sam panted with his eyes closed tightly while the pain made him want to throw up.

"Just take a minute, Sam," Dean soothed and looked around, relieved that they didn't have an audience for this. "You can tell me in a minute."

Sam shook his head against Dean's shoulder and fisted his hands in his brother's jacket. "No. No. We need to…" Sam reared back finally and looked at him. "We have to get to the docks, now!"

"What's gonna happen? Who did you see, Sam?" Dean watched the horrified expression that flowed over Sam's face and the shine of emotion in his eyes. "Sam, who?"

"Marcus. Oh, God, Dean. It's Marcus. We have to…" Sam struggled to free himself from his brother's grasp and stumbled to his feet. "Please, hurry. He can't die, Dean. He just can't. I can't let this happen, not this time."

"Hang on, dammit!" Dean caught up to his brother's long-legged stride as Sam broke into a run. "What did you see?"

Sam shook his head, too focused on not tripping on the wide stairs as he ran, and kept his eyes trained on the docks down below. "Not Marcus," he whispered like a plea to anyone that might be listening and his heart broke a little with the thought that he would be too late for the man that had shown him and his brother such kindness, the man who had sat with Sam and kept him calm while his brother was buried in the elevator. "Marcus!" Sam called breathlessly when they reached the bottom and turned, picking up speed toward the docks. His head was pounding hard enough to set off little sparks of light behind his eyes, but he ignored it; time for that later.

Dean kept pace with him and knew eventually Sam was going to crash hard if his pale face and the sheen of sweat that covered it were any indication, but for now…he was driven. "Marcus!" Dean shouted when they neared and pulled ahead of his brother. "Marcus, you in here?" The docks were open to the river, a long, canted roof covered them for a hundred yards or more. Small boats bobbed between each short dock in the increasingly rough waves, and Dean looked up to see dark, angry clouds rolling across the river. "Marcus!"

"The end," Sam panted for breath and pulled Dean's arm as he caught up. "End of the dock. There. The blue boat. S'what I saw."

"Dammit." Dean put on a fresh burst of speed and ran the length of the docks. A part of him knew they were already too late because he could see no sign of Marcus anywhere. He suffered knowing what this would do to Sam. "Marcus!" Dean wrapped an arm over his chest to support his aching ribs and ignored the need to stop and catch his breath. "Sam, where?"

"Water… by the boat." Sam was fading fast. The pain still crashing through his skull was quickly draining his ability to stay upright and he staggered into one of the support beams before pushing off and making himself keep moving. He watched Dean move to what he knew was the wrong side of the boat, shook his head and darted past. Sam kicked his shoes off in a moving stumble and dove into the icy waters of the river.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted in surprise as his brother jumped and dove beneath the water. "Son of a bitch!" He jumped into the little blue boat and lurched to the other side, looking into the choppy waves for any sign of his brother. "Sam!" He blew out a breath in relief when Sam surfaced in front of him. "What the HELL are you thinking?"

"He's here! Dean, he's…I can't get him loose!" Sam slapped both arms up on the side of the boat to support himself while he tried to catch his breath and not throw up with the misery punching through him. "Dean."

"I got it." Dean heard the pleading note in Sam's voice. He tore out of his jacket and boots and jumped into the icy water. "You stay up here, dammit!" He took a deep breath and ducked under the waves. His ribs screamed with the pressure of trying to hold his breath, and his eyes burned with the cold water but he kept them open and spotted something red waving in the water where the boat was moored to the dock. Dean swam over and found Marcus floating. The man's eyes were wide open in fear and his bowtie had been used to tie him to the piling of the pier below the water line. Dean sagged inwardly, knowing it was too late, and untied him anyway. He caught Marcus' body in his arms and kicked for the surface.

Sam was already climbing out of the water and bent over the side of the boat to take hold of one of Marcus' arms. "Here. Let me…push!"

Dean shoved and rolled the larger man into the boat with his brother. He took a moment to catch his own breath and then heaved himself into the boat. "Sammy."

"No. Come on, please." Sam bent over Marcus and breathed for him twice before bending and using his clasped hands to start chest compressions.

"Sam. He's gone," Dean said it compassionately, sadly, but his brother just shook his head and kept trying. "Sam." He caught Sam's hands in his own and pulled his little brother back, ignoring the weak fight he put up until he was holding him close while they both shivered over the body of Marcus Danesby. "There's nothing you can do, Sammy. He's gone. He's gone."

"Not him," Sam sobbed it and gave in to a moment of weakness as he turned and buried his face in Dean's neck to cry. "He was so kind…so happy. I can't…Dean…"

"Shh. I've gotcha. I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry." Dean held him and looked down at the gentle man who had made such an impression in so short an amount of time, and felt rage burn white-hot through him. Wherever the son of a bitch that killed him was, Dean was going to find him and make sure he paid - for Marcus, for all the other people he'd killed, and most importantly for the pain and heartache he'd caused his little brother. "Come on. We need to get warm and let someone know about…let's move."

Sam stood with his brother and took a last look at Marcus. The guilt rose up to choke him as they left him lying there, and Sam knew it was his fault. The killer had come to the island because of him, and now a sweet old man was dead because of him. After nearly losing his brother in the same day, Sam just wanted to curl up in the dark somewhere and never come out. He leaned heavily into Dean's shoulder, suddenly feeling weak under the weight of everything crashing down on him.

"Hey, you good?" Dean asked as they trudged back up the stairs to the castle. Sam was vibrating with chills under his arm, but then he wasn't doing much better. The river was damn near freezing with the storm moving in.

Sam nodded miserably. "Yeah. Sorry." He took more of his own weight back and forced himself to walk on his own, though Dean kept an arm around him for which he was grateful. He needed the comfort. "I'm just…he shouldn't have died, Dean."

"I know, buddy." Dean slid his hand up his brother's back to squeeze the back of his neck while they walked and felt a measure of guilt of his own for Marcus. It sucked losing innocents any time on the job, but to lose one like Marcus, with his gentle demeanor and who had gone out of his way to be kind to them…that always hurt more.

Sam let Dean handle talking to people once they returned to the castle, letting him deliver the shocking news that had the handful of employees fleeing out to the docks. He looked up at a hand on his arm and found Dr. Flagg watching him. "Aren't you going too?"

Dr. Flagg shook his head. "Doesn't seem there's much need for me if what Dean says is true. He's already gone."

Sam nodded and dropped his eyes. "I tried."

"No, I can see that." Dr. Flagg squeezed Sam's wet shoulder and looked over at his brother, still leaving a wet trail on the floor. "You both need to get in some dry clothes before I'm treating you for hypothermia or, God forbid, a cold."

"We're on it, doc." Dean smiled as he came over and slid an arm around his brother's waist again. "Come on, Sam."

"How are your ribs, Dean?" Dr. Flagg stopped him and tapped a finger over the man's chest. "I'd like a look at that bruising before you go back upstairs. Infirmary?"

Dean scowled but saw the look on his brother's face that meant 'please' and rolled his eyes. "Fine, but I'm freezin' my ass off here." He hooked a thumb at his brother. "He gets a cold 'cause you're keepin' us in wet clothes, I'm gonna be pissed."

Dr. Flagg chuckled and nodded, leading them to the infirmary. "Feels a little indecent to laugh with Marcus down there…dead." He shook his head and opened the door, allowing Dean and Sam to move past him. "Pick a bed."

Dean moved to the bed he'd lain on earlier in the day just out of habit and pulled himself up to sit on the side. "Stop hovering."

Sam gave him a dim version of a smile and moved aside. "I'm not hovering."

Dr. Flagg closed the infirmary door, locked it, and turned to look at them with another small smile. "Of course, laughing isn't the only indecent thing around here right now, is it?"

"Say what?" Dean jerked his eyes over to the doctor with a frown of confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dr. Flagg chuckled. "Dead bodies…incestuous brothers." He wagged a finger at them. "Bet that's gotten a lot easier with dear old daddy out of the picture, huh?"

Sam backed a step beside his brother as Dean shot to his feet beside him. "You."

"Oh, come on, Sam!" Flagg groaned and rubbed a hand down his face. "I can't believe you didn't know it was me the moment you laid eyes on me. I could practically taste you in the air when I got to the island. But then, I guess you're still pretty new to this stuff, aren't you? Takes time to figure it all out. He said you're his favorite and it pissed me off, but, damn, I can see why. You're crazy strong."

"He?" Sam shook his head and grabbed his brother's arm when Dean tried to step in front of him.

"Hasn't started talking to you in your dreams yet, huh?" Flagg snorted. "I would say wait for it, but…you're not going to live that long."

"You stay the fuck away from him!" Dean shouted. He jerked his arm free from Sam's grip and moved in front of his brother while rage boiled up through him. "You psychotic son of a bitch!"

"Careful, Dean." Flagg's grin faded and he closed his eyes.

Sam gasped as a mirror image of his brother blinked into life a foot away from them. "No!" Sam took Dean's shoulders and spun him out of the way. "You leave him alone! It's me you want!"

"Dammit, Sam!" Dean grunted as he bounced off the wall and turned to find the image of himself stalking his brother across the length of the infirmary.

"I was considering letting you live." Flagg raised a hand to his head, rubbing at the familiar pain that stabbed at him with the use of his powers. "But then you stopped me from killing Dean. That pissed me off. Can't say I'm sorry about Marcus. That old idiot was kind of irritating. I mean, who still wears bow ties? Seriously. I'd have killed him just for that, but you actually caring about him?" Flagg laughed. "That was gravy."

Sam brought his hands up as Dean's image reached for him and gasped as they passed through in a cold shiver like it was a ghost. "Flagg, stop!" Sam yelled at him desperately and thumped into the wall behind him. "You're a doctor! You're supposed to help people!"

"Medical student actually but what people don't know won't hurt them…much. I help myself, Sam." Flagg grinned and flung a hand out as Dean took two growling steps toward him. "I wouldn't, unless you want to watch yourself snap little brother's neck from here."

A choked gasp brought Dean's head around and his eyes widened in horror, watching while the image of himself lifted Sam from the floor by his throat. "Let him go."

"Or what?" Flagg said dismissively. "What do you think, Dean. Is the church right? Does incest earn you a one-way ticket downstairs? Let's let Sammy find out fir…" His voice choked off, the gasp lost in the sound of the shot, and Flagg stared in disbelief at the gun Dean Winchester had pulled and aimed at him. He watched the smoke curl from the barrel for a moment before letting his eyes fall to his own chest and the blood beginning to seep through his shirt.

Dean watched the doctor fall with no remorse and ran to his brother as the image of himself snapped out of existence and Sam dropped. "Sammy?"

Sam coughed and gagged, drawing air in desperately as Dean's comforting arms slipped around him. He looked across the infirmary to Flagg and suffered just that little bit more for yet another person who couldn't escape what had been done to them as infants. What hope did Sam possibly have? "I'm alright."

Dean put his gun up at the small of his back, more grateful than ever that he'd taken it before they left their room. "Come on. Someone's gonna have heard that. We need to get out of here." He pulled his little brother to his feet and got him moving. Dean could see the look of open guilt on Sam's face and shook his head. "I didn't have a choice, Sam. He was gonna kill us both and God knows how many other people. He was batshit crazy."

"No. I know. It's…I know." Sam coughed again and was relieved when they opened the door to find no one there. Everyone, it seemed, was still down at the docks with poor Marcus. They backtracked and reached the stairs unseen, moving as quickly as Sam was able until Dean finally closed the door to their room behind them with a grateful sigh of breath.

"Come here. Lemme look." Dean turned Sam and lifted his chin with gentle fingers. "You having any trouble breathing?" There were bruises beginning to come up around his throat but Sam shook his head.

"No. Just sore. I'm fine." Sam pushed away and headed for the bathroom. "I'm fine, Dean. I just…"

Dean watched him go and closed his eyes when the bathroom door banged shut. He turned and planted a fist in the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster that made his knuckles sting when he hit the stone beneath. "Son of a bitch," he said softly, angrily, and rubbed his hands through his hair in a bid for calm. He stripped off his jacket and shirts, leaving them in a wet pile and headed for the bedroom as he opened his jeans. He listened and heard Sam gagging in the bathroom. "Dammit." He quickly rolled the wet denim off, tossing them aside and went for the bathroom.

"Sammy?" Dean pushed the door open and found his brother sitting beside the toilet with his head resting on his forearm. "You sure you're alright?"

Sam nodded without opening his eyes. It had all just suddenly rushed up to choke him, the deaths, Marcus, the doctor, the things he knew about himself and didn't have the courage to tell Dean… Sam sighed with relief when he felt his brother settle a cold washcloth over the back of his neck and then felt more miserable, feeling as though he didn't deserve the comfort.

Dean rubbed a hand up and down Sam's back and then gave his shoulder a pull. "Come on. Get outta these clothes and brush that taste outta your mouth. You'll feel better." It bothered him the quiet way Sam simply nodded and rose, along with the fact that his little brother barely seemed to register that Dean was naked; that almost never happened.

Sam brushed his teeth quickly and then stripped out of his wet clothes, leaving them in a heap in front of the sink. He leaned on the counter and hung his head. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit," Dean said and took hold of his brother's shoulder to turn him around. "What's goin' on with you?"

"This is my fault." Sam pushed away from the sink and walked into the bedroom with his arms wrapped around himself. "Marcus is dead because I came here, because Flagg was drawn to me and because I wasn't fast enough to save him!"

"That's bullshit, Sam, and you know it!" Dean followed his brother out of the bathroom and glared at him. "Don't you let what that sick son of a bitch did weigh on you. This is not on you!"

"Yes, it is! I'm…I'm wrong somehow, Dean!" Sam threw his arms out and looked at his brother. "You know it! Hell, Flagg knew it! These visions, the things I see, the things I can…I think maybe part of me is evil!"

"Shuddup!" Dean's temper flared and he grabbed Sam's arm, giving him a shake. "You're not evil, you idiot!"

"You don't know that!"

"Sammy…" Dean let his arm go because the temptation to shake sense into him until his teeth rattled was too great just then. He couldn't bear to hear the broken catch in his brother's voice that made it all too clear Sam truly believed what he was saying. Through it all, his dad's last words to him echoed in his mind - save Sam or kill him. He shook his head fiercely with anger - anger at his father for dumping that on him and then leaving him alone to deal with it, at Sam for thinking that way about himself, at fate or whatever had thrown all this crap at his family to start with. Sometimes it was just too overwhelming.

"What if I turn into them? Into Flagg?" Sam moved into his brother, into his personal space, and wished Dean was wearing a shirt so he could fist his hands in it. "What if I turn evil, Dean? They all have!"

"I get that you're scared, Sam, but you need to shut up now." Dean growled it angrily and backed away a step, but his brother came with him, as if silently enforcing what his dad had told him without even realizing; there would never be a scenario where killing his brother would be an option. Sam was still yelling, his face turning red with anger and fear as he watched, and Dean realized suddenly what he needed…what maybe they both needed. He snapped his hand out and curled his fingers around the collar at Sam's throat. "Stop." It was like flicking a switch. Sam cut off in mid-tirade. His eyes went wide and then softened with gratitude as he calmed and went slack in Dean's hold.

"Please, please, please," Sam whispered the words as he curled over and let his head rest on his brother's shoulder. He couldn't begin to express the gratitude that Dean understood and would take the weight of responsibility off his shoulders, even for a little while.

"Get on the damn bed." Dean pulled hard at Sam's collar and used his grip to turn him and shove him forward because needed or not, he was still damn well pissed. The things Sam were saying were hitting too close to home, to that secret he couldn't bring himself to tell his little brother because he had a frighteningly good idea what Sam would say. "On your stomach."

Sam went in a stumble and then crawled onto the king size bed. The fear and the guilt still moved sickly through him, but Dean was going to help him. He knew his big brother would never use their relationship to try and control him, but that Dean could look at him right then and understand that Sam NEEDED to not be in control for a little while…a warm feeling of love flowed through him and he let himself sink into the comforter.

Dean went to his duffel and pulled it open, quickly finding the padded, leather cuffs he'd stuffed into the bottom of it just because…you never knew when you were going to have the chance to tie Sammy down to something fun. This was the first time since they'd arrived that he felt secure enough to tie his brother down with both the creature and that bastard Flagg dead. The castle was safe, or safe enough for this at least. "Spread, Sam," he ordered in a voice still heavy with temper, but he wasn't so far gone that he didn't shiver with appreciation at the way Sam wordlessly moved to obey.

Sam put his hands and feet at the four corners of the bed and concentrated on his breathing while Dean attached the cuffs to the posters and then restrained him. Each brush of Dean's fingers sent a shiver of need through him and he turned his head to watch as Dean stepped back to look at him. "Don't you go easy on me. Don't you dare."

Dean snarled and went back to the duffel. He pulled out the whip that Steve had gifted him with. It was much shorter than the one he'd used on stage, more suited for intimate play in a bedroom and the end had a light weight covered in felt. Dean gave it a practice twitch, listening to the muffled 'snap' and gave a dark smile at the shiver he saw run through his brother's body. "You're gonna stop talkin' about yourself like that, little brother."

Sam turned his face into the pillow with Dean's words and shivered again, both at the chill in the air and the promise in Dean's voice. "Do it," he said breathlessly into the pillow and groaned with the first sharp touch of the whip across his back.

Dean pulled the whip back and flicked it out again, dragging the weight across his brother's lower back and left a long, red line. He wouldn't draw blood, but he'd made it hard enough to hurt, enough for Sam to feel it long after they were done, knowing it was what Sam wanted. He let his mind drift into the place he'd gone on the stage that night as he snapped the whip out over and over. All the anger and grief and helplessness that had been building up inside him only to get shoved down into the dark recess of his mind seemed to finally find an outlet on the willing, vulnerable canvas of his brother's skin. Sam's muffled cries filled the room with each strike, and slowly Dean's temper worked out of him, the anger and frustration bleeding away as he strode back and forth around the bed.

Sam gave himself over to what Dean was giving him. Each lash of pain on his skin was like a balm to the guilt and self-loathing still curled sickly in his gut. He deserved it and more, more than Dean was giving him, and he whimpered with the frustration of not hurting enough. "More," he begged. "Please, Dean…more."

Dean moved from Sam's left side to his right and crisscrossed the marks he'd already laid across the smooth, round cheeks of his little brother's ass. He moved his strokes up high across the small of Sam's back and Dean sucked in a shocked breath when Sam anticipated him. His little brother arched up into the whip's next strike so the felted weight finally struck hard enough to break the skin. The last of his anger drained away in a dizzying rush of realization as he watched blood seep up through the lash mark and run down Sam's heaving side.

"Don't stop," Sam gasped, panting for breath with the pain rolling through him. "Please, Dean. Please. Please."

"What…what am I doing?" Dean breathed the words, staring at the trickle of blood, horrified, and let the whip fall to the floor with a thump. He untied the cuffs at Sam's ankles with shaking hands while his brother muttered 'no, no, no' over and over, lost in some truly dark place inside his own head. Dean ignored him and crawled up the bed. He untied Sam's left arm and then lay beside him, slipping one arm under his chest and curved his free hand around his brother's face, turning it toward him. "Sammy, God. Stop. Stop." Dean brushed the tears from his brother's cheek with his fingers and leaned their foreheads together. "I'm sorry. I should have figured it out sooner, what you were trying to do. I was just…I was pissed, and you…I'm sorry, Sam."

"No, Dean. No." Sam cried and burrowed his face under his brother's chin. "I deserve it. Please, don't stop."

"Sam, no." Dean shifted and pulled until he had his brother diagonal on the bed with only his right arm still handcuffed to the post and he wrapped himself around him. "You don't deserve to be punished. None of this is your fault, Sammy. These deaths, they're not your fault, and you're not going to turn into Flagg or any of those other murderous bastards."

"You don't…you don't know that." Sam couldn't seem to stop crying, even as he curled around Dean's warm body.

"Yes, I do." Dean took Sam's face in his hands and pulled him up so he could place a gentle kiss on his lips and look into his watery eyes. "I know because you have something they didn't." He kissed Sam again, breathing into his mouth and sharing his breath with him. "You have me." Dean wrapped his brother's shaking body up in a tight embrace. "You have me and I am never gonna let that happen to you, you hear me? Not while I'm around, little brother. I love you."

Sam felt his heart break in his chest and sobbed into Dean's kiss, curling his free arm around him in a desperate attempt to crawl inside him and hide. "Love you, Dean. I'm sorry. Oh, God…I'm sorry."

"Shh, Sammy. Stop, now. Stop." Dean loosened his grip and leaned back enough to see his face again. He kissed his brother's salty cheeks and brushed their lips together as he felt his own tears crowd his eyes. "I'm not gonna punish you. You don't deserve it, and that's NEVER what this" he waved his hand in a vague gesture between them, "is supposed to be about." Dean bit gently at his brother's bottom lip until he heard his breath catch and tremble. "I am gonna make you beg. Gonna make sure you know you're loved…" he moved his head down to bite Sam's neck below his ear. "…and safe…" Dean took hold of the collar and gave it a firm tug before sliding his fingers up and fisting them tightly in his brother's hair. "…and mine."

Sam nodded and darted his head forward to capture his brother's mouth, needing to taste him. "Yours, Dean. Yours…always yours."

Dean let Sam kiss him, tangling their tongues together in a breathless dance for a few minutes and finally pulled away grudgingly. He caught Sam's free hand in his and brought it up over his head to the post, deftly tying the cuff to his other wrist and pinning his arms there.

"Wanna feel you," Sam arched up into Dean's body, feeling their semi-hard cocks brush together and huffed out a frustrated breath when his brother moved away.

Dean smiled and slid slowly down Sam's body. "I'll get to that, but not yet. Not even close."

Sam shuddered and warmth moved through him as Dean's teeth closed on one of his nipples, biting and sucking. He squirmed on the bed, feeling each welt from the whip on his back, buttocks and legs. "Dean…fuck."

"I gotcha, Sammy." Dean moved off to the side and pulled Sam's hip, turning him onto his stomach. He moved to straddle his brother's legs and leaned up. Dean started at Sam's shoulder blades, brushing his tongue and lips over each mark he had put on his little brother like a benediction. Sam shivered with each touch and seemed to settle more firmly into the bed as he moved down his back. Dean stopped and looked at the broken skin of the last lash he'd given him. "I'm sorry, Sammy," he whispered and he bent down to run his tongue along the open welt, gathering the drops of coppery blood on his tongue while Sam whimpered beneath him.

"Ah, G…God!" Sam writhed with the bite of pain/pleasure from Dean's tongue and moaned as Dean's hands smoothed around his hips and pulled him up so he was kneeling with his face on the bed. His cock had long gotten back into the game with Dean licking his way down his back over each welt and strained between his legs now. It ached to be touched but Dean pulled him just high enough that he had no relief.

"Not even close to enough begging yet," Dean said with a warm smile as he brushed his cheek against his brother's hip. He dragged the fingers of one hand between the cheeks of Sam's ass, letting the tips of each catch briefly on the edge of his hole and making his hips jerk in response. Dean moved to rest between his brother's legs, spreading him wide but making sure to keep his hips in the air. He needed to make Sam scream with pleasure. He was driven by his own guilt that he'd essentially abused his brother with a whip by not paying attention to what was really going on. He'd actually injured him, however unintentionally, and that was definitely not okay. Dean was going to do his best to make sure Sam remembered nothing but how loved and cherished he was…that he was worth saving.

"Dean!" Sam shouted and pulled on the cuffs with the first swipe of Dean's tongue between his cheeks. He was desperate for his brother's touch, any touch, and he cried out in need, arching his back and pushing against Dean's agile tongue.

"Fuck, Sam," Dean pulled his face back and easily shoved two fingers inside his brother. He groaned as Sam's muscles fluttered around his fingers and he could tell he was close; Sam's whole body seemed to be vibrating with pleasure. Dean slipped a hand around Sam's hip and clamped his fingers at the base of his brother's straining cock. "Not 'til I say, Sammy."

Sam cried out again with Dean's fingers thrusting inside him and nailing his sweet spot with each jab. The cuffs were the only thing keeping him from giving himself relief, and he pulled at them frantically.

Dean watched Sam writhing and pushing back against his hand, seeing desperation in every line of his body. "You can stop me, Sammy. You know you can," Dean leaned up over his back rubbed his cheek on Sam's shoulder blade like he was marking him. "Safe word, Sam. Remember?" he asked, because he wasn't altogether sure right then that Sam did, but his brother's movements stilled for just a moment and he nodded.

"Not…not saying it," Sam assured his big brother and pushed back against him again. "Please, Dean…please lemme come!"

"Fuck, I love you," Dean moaned and leaned back again. He was careful to keep his fingers tight at the base of Sam's cock. He knew the moment he let go, Sam would come whether he wanted to or not. "You ready for me, Sammy?" Dean pressed the head of his cock against his brother. It was going to be rough and they were both going to feel it later with only Dean's saliva to slick the way, but he thought that was something they both wanted just then. Dean's breath was punched out of him when Sam shoved back suddenly and took him in. "Fuck!"

"More, dammit. More!" Sam was frantic and needed to feel Dean moving inside him. He needed it like he needed air to breathe, and he sucked in a breath around the burn of too much/not enough as Dean pushed further in.

"Pushy…bottom," Dean smirked and had to concentrate on not coming as he slid all the way inside and leaned over Sam's back. "Son of a…feel so good, Sammy. God. Too good."

Sam nodded, beyond speech as Dean slid his cock back out in a drag of flesh on flesh. He was so far past needing to come, he was in tears as he sobbed breaths into the bed and held on to his own cuffs to anchor himself.

Dean set up a tortuous rhythm, just fast enough and hard enough to shove Sam up the bed a little at a time. He held on to his hip with his free hand, bruising his fingers into Sam's flesh. There'd be marks there later and Dean was looking forward to paying attention to each one with his tongue. Now, he used his knees to force Sam's legs a little further apart and knew he'd found what he wanted as he shoved home again and Sam shouted hoarsely. "That's it, Sammy. Want…want you screamin'…when I come. Fuck." He drove in and out a few more times, listening to Sam shout and jerk beneath him in an overload of pleasure. Dean took a breath and slid his hand up Sam's engorged cock in a hard stroke.

Sam screamed as the pressure released. Dean's work-roughened fingers squeezed his cock in a hard pull that was too much. His release slammed into him and was so big, so powerful, Sam couldn't have said if it was pain or pleasure that arched his back and drove another scream from his mouth with Dean buried deep inside him.

Dean's back bowed over his brother as his own orgasm burned through him. It stole his breath on a shout of his brother's name and he wrapped his arms around Sam's chest, holding him while his little brother shook himself apart. "Fuck…fuck…fuck," Dean's voice was a breathless pant as their bodies slowly stilled and collapsed together. His vision came close to tunneling into black with the strength of his release. Dean took a few deep breaths and tried to rein in his frantic breaths. He slipped slowly out of Sam with a grimace of discomfort and eased beside him.

"Sammy." Dean forced his arms to move and reached up, unhooking the cuffs from his brother's wrists. He pulled Sam's arms down and pressed gentle kisses to the skin of his wrists, chafed in spite of the padding. "Hey, baby. Sammy." He pulled Sam into his arms and slid a hand into his hair around the back of his brother's head, cradling him gently. "Come back to me now. Come on." Dean kissed him, slow and deep and smiled when he felt Sam breathe in and begin to kiss him back. He pulled back just a little until their lips were barely brushing and smiled. "You alright?"

"Mmm hmm," Sam hummed, refusing to open his eyes. His body was lax and still trembling gently with aftershocks from what Dean had given him. It took more effort than he wanted to think about to slide one arm over his brother's waist.

Dean chuckled softly and kissed him again. "Yeah, I don't wanna move either. Hang on." He tried to pull away and the arm Sam had over his waist grew heavier as his little brother mewed his discontent. Dean smiled more widely and kissed his forehead. "Just getting something to clean us up. I'll be right back. Two seconds."

Sam sighed and nodded once, letting Dean ease away from him. He shivered with the loss of warmth. A haze of pleasure still hung over everything. Sam could distantly feel how sore he would be later but he smiled. It was worth it.

"Why you smilin'?" Dean asked softly as he crawled back on the bed with a bottle of water and damp washcloth.

"'Cause my big brother's kinda awesome," Sam mumbled and finally cracked an eye when he felt Dean smoothing a soft cloth between his legs. He wanted to be embarrassed about being cleaned like a child but in truth, it simply felt caring and comforting. He reached a hand out and brushed his fingertips against Dean's knee while he worked. "Love you, Dean and…I'm sorry. I kind of, uh…lost it a little before, huh?"

Dean nodded. He tossed the cloth away and pulled the comforter over them as he laid back and pulled Sam into his arms. "We both did a little. Here, drink some of this." He held the bottle for Sam, letting him take several long swallows before he took one himself and set it aside. Dean leaned back into the pillows while Sam settled against his chest and tangled their legs together. He rubbed a hand up and down Sam's arm and put his cheek in his shaggy hair. "Seriously, Sam. You ok? Your back…"

Sam cut off the apology he knew was coming. "Is gonna be sore for a while, but I'm not sorry. And I don't want you to be either." Sam kissed Dean's chest and tilted his head up to look at him. "Aside from the whole unhealthy, wanting to be punished thing…" Sam flushed and ducked his face away. "…the rest of it was…holy shit, dude. That was amazing."

Dean smiled, relieved and wrapped both arms around his brother. He was careful of his back but held him close. "Yeah, that was kinda mind-blowing, even for us." He pulled his fingers through Sam's hair, tugging tangles out and smiling with each happy shiver he earned. "I meant what I said before, Sam." Dean let his fingers slide under Sam's collar around his neck. "Nothin's gonna happen to you while I'm around. You are never gonna be like them. Never."

Sam slid his arm over Dean's stomach and snuggled into him under the comforter. "I know," he said softly and did his best to push his fears to the back of his mind. "I trust you."

"I know you do," Dean whispered and held him as Sam went heavy in sleep. He ran his fingers lightly up and down Sam's arm, easing him deeper into sleep. He hoped that he'd be strong enough to keep his promise because the truth was, there were days when Dean felt like something huge and terrible was bearing down on them, just out of their sight and it made him twitch. "Love you, Sammy." He kissed the top of Sam's head and closed his own eyes to join him in sleep. "Swear I will take care of you, little brother. Always."

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The End.