Chapter 12:-

They were about a hundred and fifty miles outside of Lincoln when Dean spoke next. "You feel guilty about leaving them back there to deal with the fall-out alone?"

"Yeah, I guess. A little bit. You?" Sam looked up from the paper they'd picked up at a rest stop a few miles back. He massaged the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes closed

"I did, for maybe five minutes. I gotta say though, that woman, she's seriously got one fucked up Oedipal thing going on, Sammy. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Demons I get, its people that are just crazy."

Sam frowned. "I think you have that wrong, Dean. Oedipus was in love with his mother, not the other way around. But yeah, I get what you're saying. And yeah, I'm glad it's over, too."

"Whatever," Dean smirked. "Just let's stick to the supernatural hunts from now on out, 'kay?"

"Okay," Sam nodded thoughtfully. "So, what's the plan now? I mean, we don't have another hunt lined up or anything…"

Dean smirked harder, more lasciviously. "I'mma gonna pull off at the first roadside motel we pass and fuck you three ways to Sunday. If that's all right with you…"

Sam snorted loudly. Hell yeah, that was more than all right by him.

"And I'mma gonna fuck you so hard, you're gonna scream my name until you have no fuckin' voice left…"

Sam didn't snort this time around. This time he just sighed as if all the breath in his lungs was on fire. "Better find one quick…" he breathed, voice instantly raw with heated passion and desire, low and thick like molasses. He reached across the seats and rubbed his palm along the ridge Dean's rapidly hardening cock formed beneath the denim confines.

"Sammy…" Dean groaned hotly. "Gonna fuck you up against the wall… in the shower… on the bed… on the fuckin' floor…"

Sam covered his own cock with other hand and pressed against the heated column. It did nothing to help the pressure he felt growing in his balls.

"Gotta find somewhere quick…" he grunted, close to coming in his pants, rutting against Sam's hand rubbing through the various layers of his clothing. "Sammy… gonna make me crash if you keep that up… and when I come I wanna come buried deep in your ass…"

"Find a motel quick…" Sam gasped, close to coming himself.

True to his word, the next roadside motel they saw, Dean swung the Impala into the parking lot out front and had them a double room for the night. They didn't bother getting their bags from the trunk, and they were barely through the door before they were on one another.

Lips claiming… teeth clashing… hands possessing… bodies, hard and lean, needing release…

Dean slammed Sam up against the wall, kissed him hard enough to split his lip, tongue pushing into his brother's mouth eagerly, possessively, tasting, exploring.

Hands pushed at clothing, tearing, fisting, clutching at fabric in a bid to get to the smooth, heated skin beneath. Muscles tensed, firm and hard as they each made short work of their clothing, dropping it on the floor, not caring where it fell. Fingers tracing beloved lines to favorite body parts.

Sam fitted his hand on the handprint covering Dean's shoulder.

Dean's fingertips traced the scars on his brother's body that he hadn't been there to tend. Aching… longing… precious need… all jumbled into their lust as they careened towards the bed.

"Fuck… lube…" Dean muttered, leaving Sam's side for less than a moment while he scrabbled around in his jacket pockets, trying to find the small bottle he'd sneaked in there earlier. "Got it…" he waved the bottle like a trophy and then pounced back on Sam, now stretched out on the crappy motel bed.

Dean lay on top of Sam, lining up their cocks and just rubbing – not touching, just using the sublime length of his body against the sensitive head of his brother's cock, using Sam the same way.

He could feel the slippery pre-come leaking out between them, but had no idea if it was his, Sam's or a mixture of both. He didn't care. He was too far gone to think clearly any longer.

Reaching between them, Dean wrapped his hand around both of their cocks and slid his palm along the length of the shafts, loving Sam's groan… loving the way his back arched into it, thrusting his cock against Dean's… against his fingers… smearing their juices together…

"Fuck, Dean… Keep doing that and I'll come…" Sam panted out, hips thrusting helplessly into Dean's fist.

"You're not coming until I'm buried deep in your ass," Dean ground out, biting back his own need to come. He pulled his hand out from between them and licked across his slick palm, tasting them both. Nothing could ever taste as good as they did together, like they were made for each other, belonged to no one but each other.

"Better get a move on, then…" Sam growled. "`Cause I'm so close already…"

Now was not the time for foreplay. Niceties could be done later. Now was the time to satiate raw need and satisfy aching hunger.

Dean wrapped his hand around the lube bottle and quickly flicked the lid with his thumb nail, spreading the viscous fluid down his fingers. He circled Sam's hole with his fingertip, smearing lube around the tight pucker.

Dean felt Sam's body shudder as he slipped the tip of one finger inside him, thrusting deeper and deeper and only adding a second and a third when Sam begged for more.

Unable to resist, Dean shimmied down the length of Sam's body to lick and suck at his leaking cock, taking the head into his mouth and swallowing as much as he could until Sam's long fingers twisted tight in his short hair, pulling, and directing a husky growl at him.

"If you don't want me to come yet, stop teasing me and fuck me already," Sam gasped, unable to stop his hips from bucking involuntarily.

Dean let Sam's cock go with a wet-sounding slurp. Grinning lasciviously, he stalked back up Sam's body, pushing his thighs wide and grasping up the lube bottle again. Seconds later, his own cock was slicked and in his hand, swollen head pushing against his brother's hole.

Sam wrapped his legs around Dean's waist and thrust his hips up until Dean was fully seated inside him, thick and hard and deep.

"Fuck me," Sam panted thickly.

Dean slid out and thrust back in.

"Fuck me," Sam panted louder, begging.

Again, Dean slid out, only to slam home, harder, deeper.

"Fuck me," Sam ground out, voice hoarse and raw. "Fuck me…"

Dean levered himself on his arms and withdrew so that just the swollen tip of his cock remained inside Sam. Taking a deep breath, Dean rocked back into Sam, burying himself to the hilt, over and over, finding the speed and rhythm they both needed from this.

Though it felt like hours, they lasted just a few short minutes before Sam came, spurting thick jets of milky come between them, catching both his and Dean's abdomens in the process and shouting out his brother's name, chanting it over and over until he couldn't come any more.

The heady scent of his brother's come filled Dean's nose and within seconds, he was coming himself, aided by the rapid clenching of Sam's ass around his cock, and filling Sam with gush after gush of thickly viscous semen.

Collapsing on top of Sam, Dean panted heavily, breathless and boneless. It had been short, sharp and perfect in their own fucked up way. He started to roll off Sam, but Sam just tightened his arms around him and held Dean tightly.

"Not yet… don't go… need to feel you… inside…" Sam panted incoherently.

Dean could feel himself softening inside Sam, could feel his release against the sensitive glans, wet and warm… knew that when he pulled out, they were gonna need to clean up… but he couldn't make himself move. With his face buried in Sam's sweat-dampened neck, Dean brushed wet kisses against the smooth curve, sucked on Sam's earlobe and bit gently. An intimate – loving – gesture.

Sam in turn stroked as much of Dean as he could reach, hands skimming lightly down his back, short nails dragging along his sides, tickling but not tormenting. Fingertips tracing intricate patterns on his skin that only Sam understood, but what Dean guessed were sigils of some sort.

Since Castiel had pulled him out of Hell, it was something Sam did a lot of. Tracing incantations on his skin after sex.

Thinking about Cas just made Dean remember the angel's words… the possibilities too obscure to contemplate… but there anyway…

Sam's breathing was starting to even out, deepen in Dean's ear and Dean took the moment to move, to slide out of Sam's body and roll to the side. He waited while Sam shifted, turned on his side and curled up. Dean smoothed his brother's hair out of his eyes, leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Sam's forehead.

Sliding out of bed, Dean padded barefoot and naked to what he figured must be the bathroom since the only other door was slim and looked like a closet door.

The bathroom was chilly and the sweat he'd worked up with Sammy had cooled on his skin, causing Dean to shiver. He used the toilet quickly and then washed his hands at the sink, waiting for the water to run warm enough to dampen the end of one of the thin motel issue towels so that he could clean Sam up a little bit before they slept.

His hand was on the door handle when a voice made him startle. "You made all the wrong choices."

"I never claimed to be anything other than what I am," Dean whispered, his eyes falling shut, his teeth biting into his lower lip.

"I never expected you to be anything other than what you are," Castiel replied.

"What do you want, Cas? I'm tired and all I want to crawl into bed beside Sam and just sleep." Dean turned around to face the angel, unabashed at his own nakedness – until he felt Castiel's eyes rake down the length of his body.

"I don't want anything," Castiel growled. "I just want you to consider the choices you made."

"Yeah, but they were our choices to make…"

"No," Castiel stopped him. "Not Sam's. He has no idea the path you've set him on. The choices you made for the both of you."

"We want the same things," Dean snarled, taking a step closer to Castiel and meeting his eyes.

"How could you know what Sam wants?" Castiel frowned, his eyes shimmered intensely as if he were looking deep inside what was left of dean's shattered soul. "What if I gave you the same choices you gave Sam?"

"You can't do that," Dean retorted, narrowing his eyes daringly.

"You don't know what I can do," Castiel raged restrained. "You have no idea the extent of my powers."

Dean stepped even closer to the angel, lips drawn in a snarl. "The things I have seen… the things I have done… the things that are out there… and you think you can scare me? You have no fuckin' idea."

Castiel closed the distance between them, eyes flickering angrily. He grasped Dean's face in his hands and pressed his lips to Dean's.

Flashes of images filtered through Dean's mind. Snippets, like old snapshots, grainy and unfocused. A cottage. Overgrown, thick with weeds and trees too big but still somewhere better than anywhere. Sam, smiling. Dean smiling back. A kid with blond curls running from one to the other, a football at his feet. Happy laughter…

Castiel pulled away, leaving Dean panting, confused.

"You think that's what you're going to have?" Castiel asked, a cruel edge in his voice.

"We can have whatever we want. You can't take this away from us," Dean maintained.

"How? How can you, when Sam has no idea what he's gotten into? How can you have this when hunting is in your blood? When you have a path to follow?" Castiel surged forward again and pressed his lips against Dean's, showing him another way.

This time Dean was alone. He could feel the ache inside him, and he knew he was completely alone. Nothing but searing desperation pulsed through his veins. Misery hid in the corners of his soul. There was no Sam here. No laughing child. No pretense of normality or happiness. And it made Dean sore inside, made him ache and scream and sob for the dream he wanted…

Castiel pulled away again. "You need to tell Sam what he's walking into."

"Don't take this away from us… from me…" Dean whispered, voice broken, eyes pleading in desperation, lashes wetly spiked. "Don't… Cas…"

Castiel cradled Dean's face in his palms, almost tenderly the way a lover would, thumbs brushing the tears away. "It's not my choice to make. It's yours. It's always been yours."

Dean opened his eyes and he was alone. His hands clutched the cold damp rag he'd picked up to clean up Sam. He dropped it into the sink, leaning over and staring at his reflection in the grimy mirror. He knew in his heart he should tell Sam, but truthfully? He was scared. He was scared that Sam would walk away from him forever. Dean couldn't live without Sam by his side – he'd had to once before and Dean knew he couldn't do it again. He couldn't take the chance that Sam would leave him… alone… until he knew… one way or the other…

Ha! Like it was going to happen, anyway. Not only was it impossible, it was also ludicrous.

Dean snapped off the light and closed the door behind him, crawling into bed beside Sam and curling tightly around him, hand splayed across his brother's smoothly muscled stomach and let his mind play make-believe with him.

It couldn't hurt to dream.

~ finis ~