A/N: After all these years, I'm finally putting an end to this series! Keep in mind I wrote this waaay before season 10 even started and couldn't finish it once it started because turns out Dean can be cured with purified human blood. There goes my theory that you can't cuz Dean's special with the Mark of Cain. Anyways, hope you enjoy this alternate take of how Dean is cured. Totally sappy but I'm a sucker for happy endings!

Chapter 7: A Different Kind of Interrogation

God may have created humans to be in his image, and Fate may have spun the threads of destiny (until the Winchesters ganked her), but it's Sam Winchester who refuses to play his part in the natural order. For how many times had he thrown the world into disorder? Escaped Death? And defied the laws of life? It's no joke. Sam Winchester has fought for humans and fought to be human himself, but it'll never be enough. His efforts will never be enough. Evil will never sleep. And Sam knows that, without a doubt, he will never die an easy death.

Such is the destiny of a Winchester.

"Finally couldn't resist my charms, could you Sammy boy?" Dean says pleased. Despite the man being chain-bound to a chair in a Devil's Trap, in a shitty lit room, Dean still manages to sound smug.

It annoys Sam as he unbuckles his own belt and starts working on his zipper. "Shut up, Dean," he mutters.

For nearly four hours, Sam tried cracking down on his demon of a brother. He asked him questions about everything. Why rule Hell? Why not kill him yet? Why go hunting still? Why kill the people who tried to hurt him? Why put a dick in him?

Constantly why, why, why but Dean rarely answered them. He always managed to say something dirty and insinuating. Sam didn't want to torture his brother, just needed to lead him on just a bit. So, the younger man finally gave up his attempt at being a hardass when Dean's taunting words were getting to him. He didn't want to admit it for the longest time but his ass did crave his brother; his hole practically itching to have something in him.

So, it's time to move on to Plan B.

Sliding off his pants nervously, Sam notices how quiet the room becomes. He looks to his captive, expecting mockery, but Dean just stares at him-particularly his lower half.

"What?" Sam mutters as he kicks off his shoes. He leaves everything above the waist on. It's unnecessary to take off all his clothes.

The demon licks his lips. "…You really are a Sasquatch through and through, aren't you?" he says teasingly.

Sam scoffs but feels blood rushing to his crotch anyways. "If you like it so much, maybe I'll fill you up with it." Which, to be honest, Sam has been haphazardly thinking about except…

"Bitch please," Dean says laughing low. "You're the one who wants my dick so bad."

...Which is true. It's a little disturbing how much Sam wants it, considering how he never wanted anything remotely like that in his life before his brother screwed him over. Literally. But this was Sam's last resort if they're last encounter was anything to go by.

Meanwhile, Dean sits all nonchalant chained with a smirk, his face cast in sharp shadows from the lightbulb above. It's creepy, wrong, makes Sam's skin chill, but he wets his dry lips and reaches for his brother's zipper anyways.

God, this is fucked up, Sam thinks before realizing bitterly that there is no God. He's always had a few screws loose when it came to his brother—what does it matter if he fucks himself on this man now? Worser things have been done.

The quiet continues as Sam carefully pulls out Dean's semi-hard member. He swallows audibly. Glancing up at the older man, Sam half-expects some kind of taunt; it never comes. Instead, his brother just stares at him with lidded eyes, pupils dark with desire. It gives Sam enough confidence to wrap his long fingers around Dean's cock and slowly tug it away from the man's body.

After a few minutes, Dean pants out, "Harder," just as perspiration breaks out on his forehead.

Sam gives him a yeah right look and continues to do the opposite. Right hand on his brother's stiff flesh, he uses his left to rummage around Dean's jacket pocket. Sure enough, there's a bottle of lube. Only a quarter or less left. He squeezes a decent amount on his right hand then goes back to his ministrations. Dean tilts his head back this time, giving a low groan. It makes Sam's dick twitch, encouraging him to pull harder, faster, getting high off his brother's groans—then he stops.

In all his years growing up with the man, Sam has never actually seen his brother's dick when it was hard. And it is full mass right now, dark, heavy and thick in his palm, almost as big as his own, and Sam can't quite believe that had actually fit in him before. He's never looked, never got the chance, despite being fucked with it before, but he's up close with it and...

"I'm flattered Sammy, but you're gonna have to wipe the drool off your face if-"

Sam abruptly stands up, quickly dragging a sleeve over his mouth. Well, that's embarrassing...

"Hey!" Dean warns, suddenly struggling and glaring at Sam when the taller man straddles him. "You need prep or I'm gonna rip you."

The words don't make sense to Sam's lust fogged brain though. They've gone without prep before and it wasn't so bad. Plus, Sam is getting more impatient by the second. His hands are positioned on the back rest behind Dean and he uses it to balance himself as his ass hovers over his brother's member. Sam can feel the head of it catching his rim before he shudders, mentally groaning in anticipation.

The older man tries to convince him again.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam retorts, trying to angle the cock properly against his entrance. "We went at it before with nothing but lube."

Struggling again, jingling the chains that hold him, Dean growls out in anger that's never actually been directed to Sam before since the day Dean became a demon. "You were already loose but I haven't fucked you in days. You're gonna hurt yourself, you jackass."

"...Why do you care if I hurt myself?" Sam asks bitterly, carefully. You're a demon, is left unsaid but nonetheless implied. Sam can only hope his plan would correct that.

Dean frowns."You think I'm gonna be any better? You're gonna peel my dick off with how tight you are. Just free me and I'll give it to you nice and proper on that table behind you, alright lil bro?" Dean tries to sound reassuring if just a little cocky, which gives Sam a little more hope. Said table is just outside the demon trap, and has a flask of holy water, just in case. The thought doesn't even occur to Sam.

He grits his teeth. "Don't call me, 'lil bro," and then he's pushing himself down an inch and half.

Of course Dean is right—he's always right when it matters—and the pain that blooms around Sam's hole is harsh enough that his body tenses where he is and he gasps. Desperately clutching his brother's shoulder, Sam tries to breathe, tears prickling at his eyes as he does so.

"Fuck…! …S-Sam, are you alright?" he can hear his brother asking with difficulty himself. Pain is still singing in the younger man's skull though. "Sammy?" cuts through the fog in his head and that catches Sam's attention. He carefully leans back and looks at the older man, whose forehead has creased with what looks like concern. "I told you it would hurt," Dean mutters.

Sam doesn't say anything at first. His legs are trembling and his tender bottom is in no better shape. The twisted side of himself, the side that's still chasing the pleasure he wants from this man, wants to continue. Well, he has to, it's part of the plan. It'd be hopeless any other way.

"Dean…." Sam murmurs, hands moving from his brother's shoulders to his face in desperation, "I don't care that it hurts." Thumbs sweep past the corner of his brother's eyes, wiping the sweat there away. "I thought I would hate myself for wanting this. And I do." He stares anxiously at his brother, who has less than a quarter of his cock up Sam's ass, and his voice trembles when he continues. "But now that I want you, just you…what're you going to do?"

Green eyes gaze at him and Sam could swear he sees his big brother in there briefly. Then Dean opens his mouth—"If you take off these fucking chains, I'll show you."

Sam scoffs, feeling foolish and suddenly alert. "Yeah right. You're going to kill me."

"Sam," Dean says gruffly. Sam doesn't yield though—how stupid would that be? He's confused when his brother sighs in resignation instead of fuming at him like he expects a demon would do. "Fine. If you're going to ride me, at least do it properly."

"Wha—"

"Relax your muscles and lift yourself up slowly," Dean instructs.

Sam does. He cautiously pulls off and hears Dean's sharp hiss against his ears. A little sympathetic, the younger man continues at a snail's pace until he's completely off. Sweat has already broken out as he breathes a sigh of relief, and yet, there's also a sense of loss. Sam looks at his brother, wanting back on. As if knowing this, Dean glares and gives the next instructions.

Obediently, Sam reaches behind, pushing in one long thick finger into himself. It's simultaneously arousing and appalling what he's doing to his own body. Pleasure runs up Sam's spine as his sphincter contracts tightly over his digit.

"Relax, baby, just relax," Dean murmurs into Sam's ears as if he's actually soothing him with his hands. And Sam tries; he thinks about his brother, about how he fingered him before, how his hands were warm and strong along his inner thighs, and then Sam begins to act in earnest.

He wills his body to relax, pulls his finger out, slick with lube from before, and pushes back in carefully several times. Dean murmurs another order. Then Sam's slipping two fingers in. His hole stretches nicely, less painfully, and when the thick skin of his joints slightly tugs at his entrance, Sam shivers in satisfaction. He likes how his inner walls give way to the intrusion, closes up, and then repeats with each penetration. It goes on for two minutes. At the fifth, Sam has his third finger in, shoving relentlessly into himself just when Dean tells him to stop.

Pausing, blinking owlishly at his brother, Sam has to remember the reason why he's loosening his hole up in the first place. When he looks to his brother, he remembers. How did Sam forget? Then he's grabbing Dean's leaking hard dick. He's quick, ahead of Dean's instructions, when he roughly descends on the thick cock. This time, pain doesn't greet Sam. Perhaps a little discomfort with his insides stretching so unnaturally, nonetheless, it's pleasure that hums through Sam's body. He gasps out silently as his forehead drops against his brother's shoulders to ground himself.

"Dean," Sam breathes out heavily, lips moist against the man's warm skin.

"C'mon, Sammy, raise yourself and—ugh…!" Dean himself presses his forehead against Sam's nape. "Son of a bitch," he rasps.

Wanting to hear the older man groan once more Sam lifts his ass up again, cock almost slipping out of him, and drops down heavily. They both cry out. Clutching Dean harder, he lets go of his inhibitions. All the fear, the uncertainty, all the morals that drive him evaporates. Then Sam's hips suddenly have a will of their own. They lift him up, pull him down, roll, slam, and for minutes nothing could be heard but heavy breathing and wet squelches.

Despite his frantic movements, Sam is barely close, despite him stroking himself. Even the thickness holding him open is not enough anymore—he wants all of Dean around him, not just in him. He's a lone cowboy on this ride, searching for gratification, and Sam just can't seem to find it. "Dean," he breathes shakily, arms weak from supporting himself. He grinds down on the long cock and swivels his hips, groaning low as the skin around his hole stretches side to side.

"Un…unbind me Sam," Dean murmurs.

To his own surprise, Sam does. It feels as if he's not in his own body as he mindlessly unlocks the irons around his brother's wrists and ankles. As he completes this, Sam doesn't leave once from his seat, the seat that thrusts upwards just as the last lock clicks.

"Fuck, Dean!" Sam yelps, scrambling to hold onto his brother before he is bucked off. The leisurely pace Sam had set is easily replaced with Dean's brutal one. The younger man can only steady his hips, butt cheeks parted by a pair of callous hot hands, and endure Dean's dick driving roughly in and out of him. He can barely breathe as each stroke brushes against his prostate and pounds deep into his guts. It's damn good, despite his own cock being neglected. Weakly, he calls his brother's name again, opening his eyes to see the older man staring intently at him. It makes his heart trip. "W-what?"

"Nothing," Dean gives a faux smirk and lifts Sam up before the younger man can analyze that response.

Cock still in him and all, Sam automatically brings his legs around his brother's waist while they cross to the table, holding tightly, Sam's dick straining between the rough flannel shirts they're wearing. He's simultaneously baffled and turned on-no one has ever been able to carry him during sex. Sam decides he likes the sturdy arms holding him though, right before his ass feels cold metal that is. "Shit," he hisses, body clenching.

Consequently, Dean moans. Sam's ears twitch at the sound and he squeezes the man's dick again, experimentally. Sure enough, his brother lets out a similar noise.

"Fuck …turnaround Sammy," Dean demands, hands on Sam's legs to release their grip. "Bend over for me."

"…Then get off me."

Dean shakes his head with a cheeky smirk. "No way. You're gonna turn around with my dick still inside you."

Sam begins to protest, but Dean interrupts with a thrust every time words try to leave the man's mouth. "I'm—ugh—not—ah—stop that De—fuck!"

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean grins and stops.

Panting and scowling, but mostly aroused, Sam carefully shifts away; Dean's cock slides out just a little bit. As the taller man tries to get his long legs between them and turn around, he can feel his rectum twisting around the thick member in him. The sensation makes Sam's dick harden even more. Breathing deep, Sam continues. He's half way around, with one leg folded upwards and the second on its way down before he's stopped. Dean's hand catches the leg in the air, pushes it up and back, and thrusts into Sam's hole while the man's still on his side.

Of course, Sam complains at the interruption, only it sounds more like a whine than anything else.

"C'mon Sammy, don't stop," Dean says, voice low. "Keep turning." He lets go of the leg.

Like a good little brother, Sam does, all the while squirming and having his ass continuously penetrated. By the time both his feet are planted on the floor, and his chest and elbows are against the table, Sam is soaked in sweat. His balls and cock lay trapped between his body and the hard surface, squashed every time Dean rams into him from behind.

"Jesus, Dean!" Sam nearly screams. He pushes his palms against the table, trying to meet every thrust with a shove back with his hips.

There's no response from behind, not that Sam notices when he's drowning in equal parts pain and pleasure like never before. He pants wordlessly, holds in his cries as Dean pushes his shirt up, whispers filth, bites his shoulders, his back, and at the last frantic thrust against his prostate, Sam's whole body stiffens as incomparable orgasm rips through him and sends his seed streaking across the table. On the opposite end, Sam knows he's being filled in more ways than one judging by his brother's satisfied groan.

Collapsed on the table, Sam's breaths comes in shallow bursts. He tries not to mind the sticky mess soaking through his shirt; he can barely stand with his legs weak as a newborn calf. If it wasn't for the weight behind him, in him, Sam would've slipped off the table by now.

It takes a minute or two for the sex haze to clear when Sam remembers. That's right, there's still a demon on the other end of his ass, one who's still breathing hotly against his neck and smoothing hands over his ribs.

"So," Dean murmurs in his ears, and Sam can feel the man's flesh in him reharden, at the same time that fear fills him. "I'm out of the devil's trap…"

At the corner of the table, just within reach, the Holy water Sam keeps for emergencies suddenly looks very useful.

One breath, two.

Sam's right hand darts for the vial, which he can't believe didn't fall off from the fucking earlier, and grasps it. Almost. His hand was slammed down before he could reach it, another hand on top of his, pressing hard and curling fingers in between his, dragging the whole length of his arm down and away. It's too intimate, confusing, and for a few seconds, Sam just stares at the joined pair of hands without moving, thinking.

"You won't be needing that, Sammy..."

The younger man slowly turns his head around, stomach in knots and heart skittering. There's no way he could defeat, let alone restrain, his demon brother in this position. So Sam is prepared for the worst when he looks behind; what he doesn't expect are the warm lips that press over his own in a languid and chaste manner. Gone almost as quick as it came.

"That was your plan B, huh?" Dean says quietly, his rough hands pressing in to Sam's lower back. "Pretty reckless. I could've killed you."

Sam's voice is hoarse when he finally manages to speak. "But you haven't...won't." He gulps and continues, interest stirring back in his groin when Dean runs his thumbs around where they're connected. "How long—"

"Since you nearly skinned my dick off," Dean answers before Sam could finish his question.

Suddenly recalling sweeping tears that Sam thought was just sweat, he burst out in disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Of all the times, you cry because I hurt your dick?!"

"In my defense, you were very tight," Dean shot back. "That's a compliment Sammy!"

"Fuck you, Dean! Get off me!" All the power that Sam couldn't muster before, he had it in him now in a rage. "All this fucking time you could've stopped it…!" he growls and tries to horse kick his brother off. In doing so, he also tries to ignore how that's doing good things to his own dick against the table and pushing more into his hole.

"Hey," Dean says firmly, shoving his whole body over Sam to immobilize him and even pinning Sam's left arm behind his back. "Are you telling me you wanted it to stop at any time?"

Sam quits struggling and goes still, not that his heart slows down at all with what his brother is implying.

"Because I specifically remember you saying you wanted me, Sam," Dean lightly squeezes their right hands together, "just me. Or was that just part of your plan?"

For a brief moment, Sam considers lying. But he thinks about how much they've been through, how much there's left to go through, and he can't imagine going through it all without his brother. Not anymore.

He squeezes Dean's hand back and mutters, "You made me this way."

"I'm...sorry," Dean says quietly as he releases Sam's left arm, "for treating you that way when I was a demon. Somehow, all my affections for you just twisted...wrong."

"...Then make it up to me," Sam suggests and when Dean just stares at him quizzically, Sam adds, "for one, by letting me up cuz looking back at you is killing my neck."

Hesitantly, Dean carefully releases them, hands and cock slipping away with obvious longing. Sam slowly gets up and turns around, letting his brother watch him while he massages his neck and leans against the table.

"Anything else?" Dean asks nervously, as Sam adjusts his ruffled clothes.

They stand there a few seconds more in tense silence before Sam says in a straight face. "Yeah. You're gonna make it up to me by fucking me properly on a bed, and then I'm gonna fuck you back for every time you did me when you were a demon. And then after that, we're gonna keep fucking each other whichever way we want until death do us apart."

Sam watches his brother mouth drop slightly open, gaping at his demand in disbelief. Then Sam's grinning, wide and cheeky, and somehow a little happy. He reverted his brother back to a human all through the cheesiest, and quite possibly the strongest thing ever: love. They were already dysfunctionally attached brothers, but now they would be partners in every sense and somehow, Sam feels right by it.

When Dean finally closes his mouth and nods, Sam realizes death doesn't do them apart. All these years they've only been brought closer by death and now Sam knows it's going to be together. Neither could be alone and they're tragedies prove it.

It isn't exactly a comforting thought, but as Sam leaves the interrogation room, with cum dripping down his thighs, and Dean following behind making lewd comments, he thinks there's hope for them yet.