A/N: This story is made of EMO. You have been warned.
Also, A/U where our boys are neither brothers nor hunters.

Italics = flashbacks, regular = present.

Don't Own, Don't Sue

"So, you really think we'll be together forever?"

"No doubt," Dean said, tilting Sam's chin up with the index finger of his free hand. "I really really love you, Sammy."

"I love you too, Dean. I love you too."

~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

Raindrops fell heavy on the black umbrellas that were huddled beneath an overcast sky. Dean Winchester stood alone, without an umbrella, tears and rain blending on his face. It did not matter. It was difficult to care when you were as numb as he was. He was soaked to the core, but it did not matter. His favorite black suit dripped water. His favorite silk tie was ruining in the rain. It did not matter. Nothing did anymore.

Just before Dean fell blindly to his knees, he whispered to the sky, "Forever, Sammy. I love you forever."

~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

"So, how'd you two meet?" Sophia asked.

"Oh, wow. Your turn to tell the story," Sam said as he nudged Dean with his elbow.

"Aw, but you tell it so well…"

"Not as good as you tell it."

"Fine," Dean said, laughing at Sam's teasing smug expression. "Well, uh, we actually met at a family reunion. Yeah. Now, before you jump to conclusions, let me explain," he laughed. "Yeah. A couple of years ago, I had this amazing apartment, but rent was getting a little steep, so I used this roommate finding service to get somebody in there to help me pay for the rent. They hooked me up with this total frat boy named Alex. One day right after he moved in, he went off partying and completely smashed his car on the way home, and to top it all off, his family reunion was taking place that next weekend. Of course, Alex still didn't have a car. He said he wanted to clean up his act, so I felt kind of sorry for him, and the reunion was only a couple of hours away, so I told him I didn't mind giving him a lift. I needed to get out for a while. Anyway, there we were a couple of days later, road tripping. Let me add that I practiced tremendous restraint in not leaving Alex at one of the seventy-three rest stops at which he had to stop and take a leak. Anyhow, we eventually got to the park where the festivities or whatever were going on, and he started dragging me around to different people, introducing me to everyone, telling little family stories, all that jazz."

"And the infamous Alex happens to be my cousin," Sam interrupted. "I was already at the park, playing tag with the little kids and I heard my aunt screaming that her 'baby boy' had finally made it home! So, I basically start looking for somewhere to hide, trying to avoid him. But then I catch a glimpse of this gorgeous guy, that is most definitely not a member of my family and decide that it might be worth the torture of spending five minutes with my dreadful cousin just to meet him." Sam squeezed Dean's hand and smiled at him.

"And that's basically it. Introductions were made, and here we are," Dean finished.

~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

Dean vaguely felt a pair of hands gripping his shoulders, shaking him gently. He felt as though he was floating, far away, while his body stayed behind to go through the motions. He stayed in the weightless, warm place for as long as he could, and when it finally felt like Sam's hands were within reach, Dean awoke into the cold rainy world.

After the service, Dean returned to his hotel room. He did not want to stay for the food or the family, and doubted that he could stand to hear another 'I'm sorry for your loss,' or even worse, the 'I understand how you feel.' He had received enough condolences to last a lifetime, and yet they did nothing to help. He just needed out. He could not go back to his house, had not been there since the morning of the surgery. He had slept in the hotel for four nights now. Anything he needed from the house he either sent someone after, or did without. If he could live without Sam, which somehow he had, so far, he could live without anything else.

Dean peeled off the robe lent to him by the pastor of the church. He threw it on the bed beside the bag holding his wet socks and underwear; some relative or another sent the suit to the dry cleaner's. Dean removed his shoes and shuffled to the small bathroom. He turned on the water in the shower as hot as he could stand it, and stood beneath the cascade for a moment before sliding down the wall to the shower floor, where he remained slumped until the water grew cold.

~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

The first time Sam and Dean made love came on the same day they first said I love you to one another. The morning started when Dean pulled up to Sam's apartment and honked the horn. Sam was outside mowing the lawn, shirtless, Dean noted with interest, and looked surprised to see Dean. Dean rolled down the window of his car, remembering not to slobber on his upholstery, and shouted at Sam, "Go get dressed! We've got plans!" Sam laughed.

"Let me finish this patch, and then I'll go get changed. You can go on up if you want. Get a cold beer waiting for me."

"Sure. Is it unlocked?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"True. You are way too trusting when it comes to stuff like that."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I'll be up in a few!"

Dean took the stairs two at a time and opened the door into Sam's tidy apartment. He left his shoes at the door and set his coffee on the counter before walking to the small double doors leading to Sam's balcony. Dean opened the doors and stepped gingerly onto the concrete landing. It was a solid veranda, but Dean was not a fan of heights, and did not insist on taking unnecessary chances. He could barely climb a stepladder without freaking, but this was worth the view. Sam was on the lawn below, pushing the lawn mower past the last straggling patches of grass. Even from the second floor, Dean could see the sweat glistening on Sam's body, and the ripple of every muscle in his back.

A sudden boom of thunder swept Dean from his reverie. Rain began to fall, out of nowhere it seemed. Sam cursed, and hurried to get the mower back to the property owner's gardening shed. Dean hurried to the front door, slipped into his shoes, and ran down the stairs. He cut Sam off on his way up and pushed him back into the rain. They danced there for a moment, spinning around in the rain. Then Dean took off running, a man possessed with a sudden burst of boyish exuberance. Sam ran after him and the two laughed and laughed.

Dean slipped in the grass and Sam piled on top of him. Their laughter ended abruptly, but not in a bad way. Sam pushed an eager kiss onto Dean's lips.

"I love you, Sam Wesson."

"I love you, Dean Winchester."

"Good. Glad that's settled," Dean said with a grin.

Sam smiled, and then got serious, "Come with me."

Sam stood and untangled himself from Dean's frame and then pulled Dean to his feet. Still holding Dean's hand, he walked up the stairs to the apartment. Once inside, Sam pinned Dean against the wall and kissed him with a fervor Dean had never experienced. With Sam's help, Dean tugged off his waterlogged shirt. The two men moved through the apartment, leaving a trail of clothing. When they finally reached Sam's bedroom, they were completely naked, and neither of them had ever been happier.

~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

When the water in the shower got too cold to stand, Dean stood up and turned the water off. He grabbed a towel off the nearby rack and buried his face in it before wrapping it around his waist. He stood before the mirror as he dried himself off. He used a hand towel to wipe a small hole in the steam on the mirror. He almost jumped at the sight of himself. He looked like hell. His eyes were sunken from lack of sleep, but at the same time swollen from all the crying. He desperately needed a shave. Dean grabbed a robe from the hook behind the bathroom door and went to shut the curtains. He opened the motel room door and hung a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the front handle. After locking the door, he shuffled back to the bed, removed the robe, and climbed between the blankets. He took some sleeping pills with a glass of water he kept on the bedside table. Dean turned away from the lamp. Silent sobs racked his body until he fell asleep.

Dean woke with a start a few short hours later, jarred out of sleep by a nightmare so vivid, it would haunt him for days to follow.

The dream started innocently enough. Dean, in his dream, was walking along a path that resembled one leading beyond Bobby's junkyard. There was no junkyard here, however. The scenery was beautiful. The deep green grass swayed gently in the wind and the birds chirped just loudly enough to be entertaining, and not obnoxious. Dean walked down the path; towards what he was walking, he could not be sure, and nearly collided with a Detour sign. The tall, metal, Day-Glo orange sign was out of place in the dream, but still Dean followed its directions. The arrows pointed him one way and another through, but Dean never tired, and the sun never moved even an inch in the sky. After what seemed like no time at all, Dean arrived at a small meadow surrounded by trees. A waterfall burbled in the distance, but that was not what caught Dean's attention. A small blanket lay in the grass and a picnic basket rested atop it. Trees rustled to his left, breaking that spell only for a new one to cast itself as Sam stepped from the woods.

"It is okay, Dean. Remember, forever and ever, babe. I'm with you forever."

Dean dropped to his knees in the meadow. Sam walked over to him. Dean grabbed Sam's wrist and pressed it to his mouth, tears coming anew.

"Don't cry, Dean. Look how beautiful it is here."

"I only want to look at you. I miss you so much, Sammy."

"Come on, let's check out the casket."

"What? Did you just say…?"

"Basket? Yes, I did say basket. What did you think I said, silly?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Let's check out that basket."

They moved to the blanket. Sam pulled every delicacy imaginable from that small picnic basket. The men sat together. Sam ate, seemingly unfazed by this dream reunion, but Dean was scared to take his eyes off Sam for fear he would disappear. After Sam ate, he began to rummage around in the picnic basket.

"Hmm. I guess that's it," Sam said.

"That's all the food, you mean?" Dean asked.

"No silly! I mean this," Sam said as he pulled a small gray rocklike object from the basket.

The smile fell from Dean's face and he could not form a coherent sentence. Sam was holding the tumor from his brain. "Sam, where'd you get that?"

"Out of my head, Dean. Where else, silly?"

It began to rain in the meadow. Suddenly, the forest dropped away and revealed a bleak and unwelcoming landscape. Something pulled Dean from where he was sitting and pressed him against what he could describe only as a ceiling. He looked down upon the scene that had moments before been breathtakingly beautiful, but was now no more than a wasteland. Sam stood.

"Goodbye, Dean."

He walked away from Dean, who felt like Alice when she fell down the rabbit hole, only he was going in the opposite direction. Dean screamed when Sam's back was turned. A piece of Sam's head was missing; a gaping, bloody hole existed where the tumor had been. Dean thrashed, but to no avail.

A crash of lightning woke him up.

Dean sat up gasping, feeling tears run down his cheeks. He stumbled to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He rested his hands on the sink and breathed deep. He stared down at his ring, trying to forget the nightmare.

~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

"With this ring, I thee wed," Sam's voice then dropped to a whisper meant only for Dean, "I don't care if it's officially called marriage or not, but I want to spend my life with you. I do not need the government to approve of it. I just need you," Sam uttered. His husky voice was barely audible as he slid a thin platinum band onto Dean's left hand.

"I thought we were leaving the politics out of the vows," Dean murmured before continuing his own vows and slipping a ring onto Sam's finger. Loudly, he declared, "With this ring I thee wed."

The judge: "By the power vested in me by the great state of Kansas, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now do what you've been waiting to do since you got here."

Sam and Dean looked at one another and laughed.

At the same exact moment, each man spoke the same sentiment: "I love you."

They laughed again until Sam pulled Dean in for a chaste kiss. The small gathered crowd of friends and relatives cheered.

"Forever and ever, babe."

~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

Dean found himself unable to return to sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the gaping wound in Sam's head. Sometimes he could block it out, exorcise the grisly image by conjuring up a better one in its place, but that tactic worked only for a minor time. It soon became obvious to Dean that he would be sleeping no more that night.

He sat up in his bed and swung his legs around until his feet brushed the carpet. He glanced at the clock: 4:19 am. He sighed and stood up, the mattress squeaking as he moved. There was not much to do at this early hour, much less in a motel room. Dean lumbered stiffly to the window and moved aside the thick polyester curtains. The revealed scene was a rain sodden panorama of a city mostly asleep. Few cars traveled the road in front of the motel. Of the few that did, most drove by without slowing, but some pulled into the motel. Dean watched each approaching group of people, imagining what business they had in this town, especially at this hour. In the time he stood at the window, he saw two carloads of teenagers, one local, and one from way out of state, three nervous-looking executive-types accompanied by scantily clad females, and even a young family on vacation, Mom and Dad looking exhausted, and each carrying a sleeping toddler. Each little cluster ran to reach their room; it was as if they were afraid they might melt in the downpour.

Somewhere between the fifth and sixth prostitute/politician combination visiting the hotel, Dean dozed off in the uncomfortable chair parked beside the window. When he awoke, the morning sun glared through the window. Dean was glad that the sunshine, and not a bad dream, had jarred him into consciousness; if he had any nightmares at all during his drug-induced sleep, he did not remember them. Dean turned his neck to look at the clock, and winced at the pain when he did so. He cracked his neck and then turned his head again, slower this time. Noticing that he had gotten four more hours of sleep, he then stood and reached his arms as far upward as they would go.

Arms still outstretched, Dean moved to the coffee machine. He surveyed the small selection of crappy coffee grinds, and went with the strongest of the three he could find. The coffee machine was simple enough, and Dean set it up to brew as he went to take a shower. This was his usual routine. Wake, stretch, make coffee, shower. Then he would grab the newspaper and drink his coffee while Sam badgered him into giving up the caffeine for something healthier. Dean would politely refuse, saying that coffee took him to his happy place, and that Sam should shut up and leave him alone. Sam always made the funniest face when Dean sent him and his fruit juice packing. Back in the present, Dean laughed, the noise of it startling him. Then the face in the bathroom mirror crumpled as he realized he would never have another of those moments.

Oh, God, how he would miss those little moments.

~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

After the wedding ceremony, Dean and Sam finally moved in together. Even though their relationship had already been consummated (multiple times, to Dean's great joy), Sam tried to keep things as traditional as possible, and told Dean he wanted to maintain separate residences until things were official. Dean fought back, of course, but Sam always got his way. Dean knew his only option was to take the plunge, yet he did not feel pressured as he thought he might. He loved Sam enough that it did not matter if he had to wear a monkey suit and say mushy stuff in front of his friends and family. He would stand up there naked on stilts and recite the Chinese alphabet if he had to. Sammy was worth everything imaginable, so Dean got brave and finally popped the question. There were no theatrics and no special effects. All Dean offered was some fantastic beer and a promise to love Sam forever. Evidently, that was enough.

Two months later, both men were officially off the market, and it was time to join their households. Rather than merging two small apartments into one small apartment, both Sam and Dean severed their leases, and they picked out a larger apartment together. On their first night together as a married couple, it was not until the wee small hours of the morning that the men fell asleep, exhausted, holding each other like the first time they had ever been together.

That next morning, Sam was the first to wake. He felt a small moment of panic, not realizing where he was, but then a smile settled on his face as the last twenty-four hours came rushing back to him. He snuggled closer to Dean, who blinked his eyes a few times and looked unhappy to be awake. He yawned and threw his arm around Sam's waist.

Sam greeted him, "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

"Mm-hmm. It is way too early to be a good morning. Well, except that you are here. That's pretty good in my book."

"Ditto. But, dude, it's ten o'clock."

"Yeah, for people that went to bed at a normal time. Well, that went to sleep at a normal time. We didn't go to sleep until like four this morning," Dean released Sam and then rolled out of bed. He stood and cracked his neck. Then he reached as arms as far as he could toward the white sandblasted ceiling.

"Well, I guess tonight we can go to sleep early, if you're so tired."

Dean stopped mid-stretch. "That's totally not what I meant. I just meant that we could sleep until maybe noon. I'm gonna go fix some coffee. Want some?"

"I've told you, I don't drink that much coffee. Caffeine is a drug, Dean."

Dean turned and began walking toward the kitchen, mouthing along with what Sam was saying about the evils of coffee. He cut him off early. He would let him spout the entire spiel tomorrow morning. "A fruit juice, then?"

"Sure. Thanks, hubby."

Dean smiled.

~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

Dean remained in front of the bathroom mirror until the little bout of dizziness passed. He studied himself intently, searching for some bit of his former self. Did anything remain? How could it? Was it possible to lose the only thing you loved more than life itself, and still wholly exist? No, Dean thought, it is not possible. What's the point in trying? Another voice sounded in his head, one of wishful thinking, if you asked Dean. The second voice reasoned, But Sam would want you to try. If he were in your place, would you not want him to be happy and to stop wallowing?

"Easier said than done," said Dean aloud, to no one in particular but himself.

He reached for the faucet and turned on the cold water. Cupping his hands beneath the faucet, Dean scooped up some water and splashed it onto his face. He shook off what he could and dried the rest with a tacky bronze towel dangling from a holder that was barely clinging to the wall.