A/N: Okay, guys, here it is: The final chapter of "What You Don't Know"!

Omg, I'm so proud that I really finished this and published all of it... First off, a big thank-you to all of you lovely readers who faved or followed this story.

Next, I'd like to thank all my reviewers for assuring me and keeping me writing. This would not have been possible without you all! 3Special thanks goes to BlueElly for pointing out a missing content piece to me! I hope I worked it in correctly and that this answers your question :)

In the near future, there will be some oneshots, and I will start writing on another multi-chapter fic for Supernatural, probably even longer than this one. Despite that, you might no see this one up here, because I'll only start posting it when I'm (almost) finished, as I don't want to keep you hanging, should I not manage to finish it.

Now, please, enjoy the last chapter :)

Disclaimer: All characters do not belong to me. I do not make profit from this story.

„Will you come back to the bunker with me again? You… can stay in your room if you want the privacy, I'd understand." Dean's voice was softer towards the end, closer to a whisper than actual speaking.

When Sam didn't answer for a moment, Dean chose to elaborate quickly, hoping to start this off without further misunderstandings between them.

"It's just that I really missed you, missed us being together. This last week – I realized that the bunker doesn't feel like home if you're not there with me."

Sam stilled and fixed his brother with a look that was both longing and surprised at the same time.

Nonetheless, it was like his response didn't even make it to his brain at all before his heart decided for him.

"Yes, I'd like that."

Dean's expression lit up and he positively beamed down at Sam who couldn't hide a shy grin in return. A few seconds went by where all Sam wanted was to lean in and kiss Dean, but he didn't dare. The moment passed, their matching smiles falling off and Sam blushed slightly.

"Awkward," Dean mumbled, the same tone he'd always used and Sam laughed automatically at the familiarity and the normalcy.

Without further words, they started packing Sam's belongings – which wasn't much – and Dean drove them to the nearest fast food restaurant, eager for unhealthy food light banter with Sam sitting across from him.

Sam's familiar grumbling about unsaturated fats only served to make their day even better.

***WYDK***

In unspoken agreement, they'd started looking for hunts again after another two days of being unoccupied at the bunker. Well, Dean was unoccupied – Sam just busied himself with studying the extensive book collection from the Men of Letters.

Things were good between them, Sam decided. Sometimes there was an uncomfortable silence when Dean teased Sam as he'd always done and something struck a nerve with Sam. Or other times when Sam's mind was blank, caught up somewhere in the past and Dean didn't know how to draw him out.

So, things were good but tentative. Their first hunt was therefore something familiar and clean cut, just some ghost haunting an abandoned playground at night and killing teenagers who were stupid enough to be there for their secret meetings.

In the end, no one was killed after they'd arrived and they dealt with the ghost in only two days. The small town wasn't even that far from the bunker, a day of driving at the most.

While Dean was in the shower, washing off the cemetery dirt and cleaning out the cuts from where the ghost had thrown him against the nearest tombstone, Sam was inspecting his own wounds.

Nothing bad, just another cut to add to the myriad of scars on his arms and he'd probably sprained his ankle as well judging from the way it didn't cease throbbing.

The dull pain was definitely worse than the familiar sting of the cut and Sam fetched some ice to cool it with, before setting out the utensils he'd need to stitch his arm up, also laying out the weapons in need of cleaning.

Tearing off the make-shift bandage from his forearm, he reached back around and removed the emergency knife from the pocket of his jeans as well. It wasn't dirty at all, but the way it pushed against his stomach when he leaned over to the small table to grab something was unpleasant.

With the handle of the knife still in his hand, he heard the sound of the door from the bathroom opening and Dean emerged from his shower, already dressed in his sleep pants and an old t-shirt.

Sam felt uneasy when Dean stood in the doorway, not moving at all.

Despite feeling his brother's eyes on him, he diligently cleaned and stitched the wound, bandaging it when he was done. When he caught Dean still standing in the same position, Sam glanced up at him, confused.

"You need help with something?" he asked, not knowing how to interpret Dean's mood.

His brother's face remained eerily calm, but there was a flash in his eyes. It only lasted a second and when it was gone, Sam was sure he'd imagined it.

"No, nothing. You done?" Dean inquired, making his way to the bed and throwing himself down on his usual side. They'd - wordlessly – gone back to sleeping in one bed after clearing things up between them, even though things stayed absolutely innocent.

Sam wasn't sure why they never did anything sexual now. He'd hoped Dean meant what he said about wanting him like that. He was too self-conscious to ask, though, and he didn't know if Dean would appreciate him initiating the contact.

Pushing his musings away for the time being, Sam simply hummed his assent and laid down next to Dean. It was late in the night, probably around four, Sam gauged. There was no clock in the motel room.

Even though he felt exhaustion settling in after the adrenaline from the hunt was slowly wearing off, Sam felt he was in no state to sleep. His ankle continued shooting dull throbbing pain through his body and the atmosphere was strangely heavy, suddenly almost uncomfortable.

He hesitated, but when he inched closer to Dean who was staring at the ceiling with a frown on his face and his brother drew back, Sam couldn't let it go anymore. He needed honest answer because this uncertainty was slowly eating him up inside.

With a sigh, he rolled onto his side, looking straight at Dean.

"What is it?"

Dean tensed slightly, but fixed Sam with a smile that was fake and forced.

"Hm?"

"You need to tell me what's going on," Sam said in his best no-nonsense voice.

When the smile didn't drop from his brother's face and he opened his mouth to speak, Sam knew immediately what Dean would say.

"And don't tell me it's nothing, Dean. Really, I…" he trailed off, suddenly not so certain he honestly wanted an answer to all his questions.

"I need to be sure. I can't deal with you telling me all these lies to my face and then pushing me away. Maybe… Maybe it's me, maybe I'm just not strong enough. But I believed what you said last week and I need to know it was true. Please, if you didn't mean it, tell me now." Near the end, his voice was full on begging, but Sam didn't find it in him to care.

The grin had fallen of Dean's face, now filled with shock and slight horror at Sam's words.

"No! It's not that!" He turned to face Sam, tucking him in with an arm across his brother's shoulder.

"No matter what happens, now or in the future, don't ever believe what I said wasn't true, okay? No matter what. I want that, I still want you, it's just-"

Sam silenced Dean's rambling with a desperate kiss. It had been all the confirmation he'd needed and suddenly the need to touch Dean was too strong, too much time had passed since they'd done this without him feeling afraid.

He was still insecure and he didn't know where exactly they'd go from here. But this was Dean. His brother and he knew him and loved him and that was enough for now.

After a second of Dean's motionless lips against his, he shifted their positions so that he was on top of Dean and urged him to kiss back. When Dean finally did, their kissing quickly heated with Sam trailing fingers down Dean's collarbone and drawing over a nipple through his brother's thin t-shirt.

The low moan he got in response was enough to make his blood boil and his patience wore thin. He grabbed the hem of the worn shirt, dragging it over Dean's head and off, throwing it somewhere behind him.

The cheap motel bed creaked when he leant back so he could take off his jeans properly, while Dean also ridded himself of his sleep pants.

Now completely naked, Sam moved back to straddling Dean's upper thighs, taking in his already huge pupils and the freckled on his cheeks, more pronounced in the light of the bedside lamp. Sam had lived with Dean his entire life and yet he'd never get enough of seeing his brother like this, completely open and undone, none of the mask in place he put on whenever they were outside.

The jerk of Dean's hips that brought their cocks brushing together, shook Sam out of the moment, desire flaring up again and he groaned, searching for the lube he'd dug out of his jeans pocket before taking them off.

As beautiful as Dean looked like this – sprawled beneath him with flushed cheeks – Sam needed his brother inside him. He needed Dean to push away all the bad memories he had of this, all of the doubt still hiding in his mind.

Bringing their bodies flush against each other, Sam resumed kissing Dean, pushing his tongue in his mouth and making his intent clear by thrusting in and out while pulling away one of Dean's hands from around his face and closing Dean's fingers of the small bottle of lube.

Dean stilled for a moment, opening his eyes and waiting for Sam to look at him. The question was clear even though he never used words to say it aloud.

Apparently being satisfied with the want and need he found in Sam's heated gaze, he popped the bottle open and coated the fingers of his left hand, pressing his index finger against Sam's hole.

With the way it had been so long and with the trauma Dean knew was still there and would never completely go away, he took his time, circling his finger around a few times without pushing in. Distracting Sam by sucking on the sensitive spot behind his ear Dean knew he loved so much, he carefully inserted one finger, sliding it in in one fluid movement.

Sam turned his head to give Dean more access and only moaned when he felt Dean's finger breaching him, pushing back against it to urge it deeper.

Dean groaned against Sam's skin, the vibrations sending sparks all the way down to Sam's cock.

"So hot," Dean mouthed against Sam's ear, blowing warm air over the skin he'd just licked.

Dean aligned a second finger to join the first and inched them inside up to the first knuckle. Twisting them gently, he pulled back and then thrust in deeper until he could press them against Sam's prostrate.

At the first touch of Dean's fingers so deep inside him, Sam gasped and then whined when they brushed over that spot, sending shocks of pleasure through him and making him push his hips down to get them deeper.

His brother only chuckled quietly against his neck, bringing his right hand between their bodies to pinch Sam's nipple, eliciting another low moan.

Sam was getting more and more impatient the longer Dean's careful preparation and teasing touches wore on, the need to feel Dean inside him getting stronger by the second.

"Dean, please… I'm ready. Please," he begged, needing more.

"Shh… Relax. There's no rush," Dean reassured him right next to his ear and the fucked out voice, low and rough, did nothing for Sam's patience, instead making his heart skip and his pleasure spike higher.

Sam started rocking his hips to get friction against his cock trapped between them against Dean's while he felt a third finger entering him. He panted against Dean's shoulder, feeling his orgasm already building low in his stomach.

When Dean rubbed them against his prostrate deliberately, he couldn't hold in the high whines of "please, please" anymore.

Thankfully, Dean deemed him ready because he heard a low "okay" against his throat and then the fingers withdrew, leaving him empty. Remembering how he'd originally planned to watch Dean while doing this, he gathered his remaining strength and sat up, picking up the lube from the bed and spreading some in his palm.

Locking eyes with Dean, he applied the lube to his brother's cock, jerking his hand up and down slowly a few times.

Then Sam positioned himself and slowly sunk down on Dean's cock, not stopping until he was all the way down. Clenching a bit to test if he could move, he reveled in Dean's choked off moan.

"God… You're so tight, Sam."

Sam rolled his hips experimentally in a figure eight pattern and when there was almost no pain or discomfort he pushed himself up slowly until Dean was almost completely out and then lowered himself back down again, just as slowly.

Dean threw his head back against the pillows, his eyes rolling back a bit. Sam was tempted to draw this out as Dean had done, but his own need was too strong. He could already tell this wouldn't last long and so he quickened his pace until he was fucking himself down on his brother's cock hard.

Dean kept himself still beneath him, but it wasn't what Sam wanted.

"C'mon, Dean," he gasped out between thrusts, "fuck me."

With a desperate groan, Dean did, angling his body slightly to hit Sam's prostrate on every thrust and bringing a hand up to jerk Sam off in the same rhythm.

Sam came with a cry, shooting white hot cum over Dean's hand and painting his chest and the clenching of Sam's muscles on his cock was enough to send Dean over the edge as well.

Letting his brother fuck him through the aftershocks, Sam caught himself from falling down by steadying himself with one hand on either side of Dean's shoulders, panting for breath. When he felt his brother slump and still under him, he carefully drew off, making Dean's softening cock twitch in response and Sam lay down on the bed next to him, completely unwilling to move.

Dean drew him against his body, until Sam was almost resting on top of him and then trailed his right hand through Sam's slightly sweat-soaked hair.

Sam would have been happy to lie there until the sun rose outside and they needed to vacate the motel room, but apparently Dean had other plans, because he started speaking softly after a few minutes.

"Y'know, when I saw you earlier…" Dean stopped and drew in a deep breath, Sam could feel his chest expanding under his head.

"You wanted to know what was going on. It's… I saw the cut in your arm and your hand on the knife and all I could think about was you, cutting yourself. I just - I couldn't deal with it, knowing you've been doing it for god knows how long and I never noticed." Dean stopped again, but when Sam didn't outwardly react – no flinching or tensing, no verbal response either – Dean kept on.

Maybe this would be good for them. Talking about these things. He didn't want to start this by keeping secrets again and Sam needed to know.

"It hurt, Sammy. I don't think any less of you, but to think you couldn't trust me with this… And I can try to understand that because of what happened between us. But, Sam, how can I keep myself from wondering if all those cuts and injuries all these years were really an accident? I've seen your scars, Sammy. They're not just from the last year…" Dean let the statement hang in the air, not wanting to make an accusation out of this. It wasn't his intention to blame his little brother for any of this, he only wanted answers.

They needed to start somewhere to repair the trust they'd had. Or, maybe they needed to build more trust than they'd ever had, because even then, Sam had kept this from him.

Sam sighed wearily against Dean's chest. Deep down, he knew that he had to talk about this sometime. Still, he couldn't help being tempted to lie, to deflect the question or evade it somehow. In the end though, he settled for the truth. Everything else would only hurt them.

"I can't remember when it started, not the exact date at least. I think it was when I was fifteen and I started noticing you in the way I shouldn't have. I kept thinking about everything that was wrong with me, how screwed up I was. And when something happened in training, when I wasn't good enough to dodge a blow and I got hurt… It was easy, understandable. There was nothing to think about, the pain was there because I wasn't good enough."

He felt more than heard Dean's quiet gasp of shock. Sam was glad when he felt the hand in his hair resume its soothing strokes.

"At some point, it wasn't enough anymore. The bullying at the schools we went to and studying while Dad pushed us to hunt, to research… It helped cope with the stress, I guess. I stopped when I got into Stanford. It had been hard to hide back then, even though we always got hurt somehow, but in Stanford… There was just no way I could hide it forever. So I stopped before anyone found out."

They were silent for a long moment, Dean processing the information and Sam caught up in memories of shame, insecurity and doubt.

"I had no intention of doing anything now, I promise. I'm not saying I won't ever think about it, but… it's always easier with you there."

Dean's hand went from his hair to his chin, drawing his face up until they had eye contact.

"Good. I'll be there for you, Sammy. But you have to promise me, when you want to… cut yourself and it gets too much, come to me okay? We can fix it. I can't deal with wondering all the time if you're alright or if you just don't want to tell me. So please," Dean said, searching Sam's eyes for doubt or hesitancy, "please promise me you'll talk to me."

"Yes," Sam answered with conviction, "I promise."

And after sharing deep and intimate kisses for another hour, Dean wiped down the caked and dried mess of their bodies before they went to sleep.

***WYDK***

Sam was sure he'd left it there. They were on another hunting trip three weeks later and while Dean was off to get dinner, Sam was checking their bags to make sure everything was in working order.

The only thing missing were the knives. Not just one little pocket knife but all of the knives. The simple ones, the machete, even the demon knife.

Rummaging in the weapon bag for another long minute, Sam gave up with a frustrated growl, kicking the bag on the floor for good measure. Exasperated, he went into the bathroom to shower. Ten minutes later, he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror and even through the fog he could tell he needed to shave.

Sighing, he dug through his bag in search of the razor and the blades, intending to hurry before Dean got back with food because he was starving.

The only problem was that the razor and the blades were missing. All of them. Not a single blade in sight.

Abruptly, Sam tensed, the thought leading to a creeping suspicion. None of the blades were there. No knives, no razors, nothing. No demon knife. No, Sam reassured himself desperately, he wouldn't.

Dean wouldn't take all the knives without him knowing and stash them somewhere else so that Sam wouldn't be able to cut himself in his absence. Dean wouldn't do that. But then Sam's mind flashed back to the pill incident as he'd started calling it in his head and suddenly he wasn't so sure anymore.

Dressing quietly, his hunger almost forgotten, Sam sat down on a chair at the small table and waited for Dean to get back.

Not even 15 minutes later, the door was thrown open, his brother dropping the bags on the table before shrugging out of his jacket. "Man, I swear I had to breathe through my mouth because I'm starving and these smell really good. I almost couldn't keep myself from eating them there."

Sam listened, but the words never made it to his brain. The sound of Dean's talking was slightly muffled, almost as if from far away.

When Dean took the chair opposite from Sam and really looked at his brother for the first time, he stilled.

"Sam? What's up?" There was an undertone of concern and worry in his voice even though he still looked calm.

Sam was getting angry instead of disappointed now, because how could Dean act so calm around this when he'd simply taken all the knives to keep stupid little Sammy from doing something wrong?

Sam focused hard on keeping his cool.

"Where are the knives?"

Dean frowned and fixed him with a curious stare, almost as if he didn't know what Sam was talking about.

"What?"

"The knives. The demon knife. The machete. Oh, and my razor blades. Where did you hide them?"

If possible, Dean looked even more confused now.

"Hide them? They're in the other bag." He took a long sweeping glance over the room, finally settling on a smaller bag at the edge of the bed. "There," he said while pointing at the spot he meant with his finger.

Sam was silent for a moment, then he got up slowly and checked the bag Dean had pointed at. And, sure enough, there were all the missing knives.

Confused, he returned to his place at the table, only picking at the wrapper of his burger, suddenly too nervous to start eating but not angry enough to ignore it anymore. "And my razor blades?"

Dean fixed him with a pointed stare at Sam's bag, but when Sam only shook his head to convey he'd already looked there, Dean blushed. Sensing his suspicions confirmed, Sam hardened his glare and tried again.

"Where are they?" Dean rubbed one hand over the back of his neck, looking down at the table for a moment.

Inhaling deeply, he sighed.

"I, um,… May have lost mine and took yours instead?" Voice raising in the end as if forming a question. But after a moment of silence, a though entered his mind.

"Where did that come from?"

Now it was Sam's turn to be embarrassed. He chose to say nothing, but it didn't take long for Dean to make the connection.

"Oh… You thought…. You thought I took them." Dean hesitated for a moment.

"Sam, look at me." Sam shyly raised his eyes to Dean's keeping his head lowered and glancing up though his lashes.

"Sam, I wouldn't do that. I trust you with this. You promised me you wouldn't do that and I trust you. Okay?" Dean reached out to take one of Sam's hands in his, squeezing gently.

Sam blushed even more, but a small smile broke out across his face.

"Yeah, okay." And the more important thing: "Thank you."

He was so relieved, his head was dizzy with it. Dean really trusted him…

He didn't even notice that he'd drifted off, until his brother's voice shook him out again.

"Good. Let's eat, I'm starving."

Sam laughed, feeling his own hunger returning full force and the atmosphere light and happy around him.

And just like that he knew, they'd be okay.

Final A/N: Please leave one last review (even if you didn't for the last chapters) to let me know what you think of this story as a whole and what I should keep in mind for future stories :)