Pairing: Dean/Sam

Warnings: Incest, graphic sex

Spoilers: 5x22 Swan Song

Notes: Charity fic for rhondeez on livejournal.

Dean stands outside the motel room, thoughts chaotic and all over the place. Sam is in love with him? Has been for a while? How could he have missed this? How could he have caused this? What is going to happen now? Sam is still intent on saying yes to Lucifer – his confession changed nothing – but is that really fair on Dean? How is he supposed to deal with news like this on top of everything else?

He knows he has to go inside the room and confront Sam about it sometime, but right now he can't bring himself to set foot in there. He doesn't need Sam's apologetic looks or attempts at normal conversation. He needs Sam to have not said anything, to have taken the secret with him and never told him. He needs things to go back the way they were. It is his final night with his brother and he is wasting it outside in the parking lot because his brother is in love with him and he can't deal.

The street lamp barely cut a haze of light through the damp fog, but it is enough to illuminate the bench below it. Dean makes his way over to it and sinks down on it, ignoring the chill from the wet wood and tilts his head up, staring blankly at the orange light from the lamp and the silver stars twinkling.

His hands curl into fists and the pain from his nails digging into his palms bring his attention back to reality. He slowly relaxes his fingers and blinks down at the crescent shapes sliced into his skin. He knows he has to face Sam some time tonight, but he just can't bring himself to deal with the fact that Sam, little Sammy, his own flesh and blood is in love with him and has been for a while, according to him. He doesn't understand that. He can't wrap his head around that concept, but if he wants to spend time with Sam for the last time, he would have to.

He sighs and heaves his body up from the bench, wincing as he passes his hands over his wet jeans and jacket. He slowly walks to the door and leans his forehead against it, feeling the cool surface underneath his burning skin, pain throbbing inside his skull, burning and twisting like a snake trapped there. He groans quietly and lets himself in the room, blinking in the sudden warm glow from the lamp on the nightstand beside Sam's bed.

Sam looks up from his laptop as he walks in, tossing his jacket on the back of the chair and kicking off his boots. Sam bites his lip, but wisely keeps his mouth shut, sensing the leaden need for silence radiating off his brother. Dean disappears into the bathroom and stands, contemplating the shower. Deciding to forgo it for the night, he washes up quickly at the sink. He walks back into the room in just his boxers, ignoring the goosebumps that broke out over his bare skin.

Sam glances up at him from under his eyelashes once more. Dean doesn't miss the way Sam's eyes sweep over his body. He can't suppress the shiver either. He sits down on the edge of his bed and rubs at his eyes. The headache is worse now, but he has to do something to reassure Sam that he doesn't hate him and isn't angry at him. He really isn't, he is just confused.

Sam beats him to the punch though. "Are you mad?"

"No." Dean answers shortly.

Sam cringes slightly. "You sound angry."

"I'm not. I'm just confused mostly." Dean sighs, running a hand down his face.

"I'm sorry." Sam offers.

"Sorry for what?" Dean asks.

"For telling you. It was selfish and I know you don't feel the same. I just wanted you to know before..." Sam trails off.

Dean nods. "Okay."

"Is that it?" Sam asks, brow furrowing.

"What do you want me to say, Sammy? I don't feel the same, but I don't hate you either. What else is there?" Dean snaps in exasperation.

"I don't know! You think this is easy for me?" Sam demands, glaring at Dean.

"I know it's not, but I just don't know what to do, okay?" Dean squints up at the ceiling, wondering when life got so hard.

"I don't either." Sam's voice is softer now.

They fall into silence. It's not awkward like Dean expects, but it's not entirely comfortable either. There is too much on either of their minds for it to be as relaxed as it usually is. Sam is going to say yes to the Devil himself, Dean is going to lose his brother and to top it all off, said brother is in love with him and decides to tell him the night before he becomes Satan's dress to the Prom. All in all, it does not make for a very relaxed atmosphere.

Sam shifts on the bed, annoyed at himself for telling his brother how he felt and annoyed at Dean for not feeling the same and not being able to make this go away. Mostly he is just glad that Dean doesn't hate him and doesn't think he was a sick freak. Well, a freak, yes, but not for that reason. He is glad he has finally told Dean that he is in love with him, but it doesn't quite bring the relief he thought it would. Sure, he is glad to finally have no more secrets from his brother, but it still doesn't change the fact that Dean isn't in love with him. Not that he had really thought that Dean could ever return his feelings, but there is one small part of him that has hoped blindly for it to be true.

Dean shifts on the bed, glancing over at Sam. There is one thing he could give him. One last thing he can do for his brother that would make it a bit easier on him and make him the slightest bit happy. He cringes mentally at the thought of it, but if their roles were reversed, Dean knows Sam would do this for him without a bit of hesitation. He also knows that Sam would never ask this of him, even if it is his last night on Earth in control of himself.

He slides off of his bed and stands over Sam, looking down at him. Sam arches an eyebrow at him, obviously wondering what Dean is doing.

Last chance to back out. A voice in the back of Dean's mind pipes up.

No. Dean squashes the voice firmly, shoving all his doubt and fear down with it.

Sam opens his mouth to say something, but Dean cuts him off by pressing their lips together, tentatively at first. Sam makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, trying to pull away from Dean. Dean wraps his hand around the back of Sam's head, fingers tangling in his hair. His tongue dips out to trace along Sam's lips. Sam doesn't part them, instead he brings his hands up and pushes Dean away from him, gently at first, then more firmly as Dean refuses to move. Finally, Dean takes the hint and pulls away from his brother.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Sam asks, slightly breathless.

"Giving you the only thing I can now." Dean answers, leaning down for another kiss.

Sam turns his head away and Dean's lips land on his cheek. "I know you don't feel like I do. It hurts, yes, but I don't need or want you forcing yourself to do something like this because you think I want it. I want you to want me because you want me. Period. Not because you're guilty about not feeling the same way as I do and hurting me."

Dean moves back a bit on the bed. "But I want to do this for you, Sammy."

"Dean, don't do it because you think I want it. Do it because you want it too." Sam explains, smiling softly at him.

Dean sighs and settles on the bed next to Sam. "I want it because you want it and it's the last thing I can give you, so please. Just let me do this."

Sam purses his lips and looks away. He does want this, but he wants Dean to want him for him, not out of some sense of guilt over the whole feelings issue and Lucifer-wearing-him-to-the-Prom. He wants it because Dean is in love with him too. He wants Dean to feel the same way. He doesn't want to put his brother through this just because he thought he has to do something to make up for not feeling the same.

Dean moves his mouth down from Sam's cheek to his neck, sucking lightly and nibbling. Sam gasps, hands coming up to push Dean away again, but Dean pins them to the bed with his own hands, pulling back to look Sam in the eyes. "Just let me do this, please?"

Sam bites his bottom lip. Who is he to deny his brother something he wanted, even if he wants for reasons Sam disagrees with? Then again, would he really want to this to Dean? His brother seems to think it was the only thing he could give Sam., but it isn't. Even if they just sat here and said nothing all night, it would still be okay with Sam because he was with the person he loved most in the world and really, how many people could say that on their last day on Earth?

Hesitantly, he nods for Dean to continue. Dean grins briefly, pleased to be getting his way as usual, then leans back over Sam, hovering above him until Sam sinks back into his pillows. Dean kisses him again. Rough, chapped lips move delicately together, feeling the other. Sam whimpers softly in the back of his throat at the first light touch of Dean's tongue against his bottom lip. Dean traces along the bottom and top lip before gently pressing in between them.

Their tongues meet for the first time and it is everything and nothing like what Sam imagined. It's too much and not enough and he can't seem to process the fact that Dean is real and is pressed up against him, kissing him like it is all he ever wanted in the world. Fingers were trailing up his arm. He shivers in pleasure, pressing in closer to Dean, his own hands freed of Dean's. They are cupped around the back of Dean's neck in an attempt to get even closer than they already were.

Dean breaks the kiss with a sharp nip to Sam's bottom lip that makes him yelp in response. Dean's smirk is wicked and Sam's mouth goes dry at the filthy promises laced within. He sucks in a breath when Dean leans down to bite at his neck, moving down to his collarbone where he leaves a hickey, marking Sam as his. He laps his way down Sam's torso, leaving bite marks and bruises in his wake. He traces his tongue along the indentions of Sam's abs, making him gasp.

Sam grabs the sheets tightly in his hands as Dean reaches the edge of the waistband of his sweatpants. Dean teases him with little licks along his hipbones, scraping his teeth along the line where his hip meets his thigh. He winces, but moans. It surprises him a bit. He isn't one that is usually into pain during sex, but Dean has that perfect balance of pain and pleasure that it has him aching for more.

He grasps the short strands of Dean's hair and tugs him up for another kiss. Dean's hand settles on his hip and the other one toys with the drawstrings on his pants. Sam hisses when Dean's fingers brush against his clothed erection. Dean smirks into the kiss and abandons the tie to Sam's pants in favor of very lightly trailing his fingers up and down the bulge he finds there. Sam arches his back, tearing his mouth away from Dean's and gasping loudly. Dean grins at his reaction, whispers in his ear, "So responsive to me, Sammy. I like that."

Sam can't scrape together enough brain cells to form a reply that's coherent. Dean is slowly but surely driving him crazy with the barely there touches that make him whine and arch, pleading for more. Dean's other hand comes up to his chest and he strokes his fingers over his nipple mercilessly, rolling and pinching the bud until it's hard and red underneath his ministrations. He leans down and takes the other one in his mouth, flicking his tongue against it before sucking hard.

Sam is going to come soon if Dean keeps this up. He just needs a little bit more friction. He trashes his head against the pillows, groaning when Dean nibbles at his nipple. His fingers are still a feather light touch. Sam thrusts his hips up, desperate for more, but Dean chuckles, voice hoarse and full of lust that sends bolts of arousal straight to Sam's cock, and pulls his hand way from Sam. Sam's eyes fly open and he pants harshly, glaring at Dean. "Why'd you stop?"

Dean just shakes his head and grips the waistband of his sweatpants. Sam pushes his hips up, allowing Dean to slide them off of him. They fly across the room, neither of them caring where they land. Sam reaches out for Dean again, pulling him down into another kiss that is more teeth than tongue, but neither care, each trying to gain the upper hand. Dean glides his hands up and down Sam's sides, a contrast to the roughness of his mouth on Sam's.

His mouth slides away from Sam's, lips flushed and kiss swollen. He pulls away and grins down at Sam as he very purposefully grinds his boxer covered erection against Sam's bare one. Sam hisses at the feel of cotton against his skin and arches into his brother. Sam drags a hand down Dean's stomach, feeling the muscle ripple under his touch and then palms the damp fabric over Dean's cock.

Dean moans and throws his head back, hips stuttering and rhythm thrown off by Sam's touches. Sam shifts, spreading his legs wider and grabs Dean's boxers, tugging at them. Dean gets the hint and takes them off since Sam can't quite manage that in his position. When he presses their erections together again, both groan loudly, pleasure running thick through their veins.

Dean kisses and licks his way back down Sam's torso, nipping here and there and soothing the bites with flicks of his tongue while Sam's fingers curl in his hair. When he reaches Sam's cock, a voice in the back of his head whispers to him again. Sure you wanna suck your own brother's cock? Sure you can handle that? Dean growls and smirks when the sound makes Sam shiver in anticipation. He pushes the voice out of his head and takes a deep breath. His hands pin Sam's hips to the bed and he kisses the very tip of Sam's cock.

Sam moans throatily, fingers tightening in Dean's hair. Dean licks the head gently, teasing the slit there before taking it in his mouth and sucking slowly. Sam whimpers and groans, trying to thrust his hips, but Dean keeps him still on the bed. Dean slowly takes more and more into his mouth. It isn't his first blowjob, after all. His hand makes up for what he can't fit in his mouth and he sets up a fast pace, sensing Sam is too close to the edge for any more teasing.

His hand and mouth work in perfect rhythm, driving Sam closer and closer to orgasm. It nearly undoes Sam when he manages to open his eyes and look down, seeing his cock disappearing into the tight, wet heat of Dean's mouth, those perfect lips stretched obscenely around his cock. A few more hard sucks and Sam is falling back on the bed, barely managing to warn Dean with some garbled sentence and a few tugs of his hair that he's coming now.

Dean ignores the hand in his hair and brings his brother off, swallowing all Sam has to offer and milking him through his orgasm, suckling softly until Sam is too sensitive to handle any more touches. He crawls back up his brother's body and hovers over him, smirking like the cat who ate the canary. He kisses Sam one more time before trailing a hand down his own body to his neglected erection, tweaking a nipple on the way down.

His hand curls around his cock and he strokes shallowly a few times, spreading the pre-come around, slicking the way. He slams his eyes shut as his hand picks up speed, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, drawing blood. Sam sits up and licks the blood away from his brother's mouth and wraps his own hand around Dean's, matching the rhythm he has set up. Dean whimpers, arching his hips as he pumps faster and faster, Sam helping him. It isn't long before curses are flowing out of his mouth and his hips stutter and lose their rhythm, finding his own orgasm.

They sink bonelessly back onto the bed, Dean grimacing at the feel of the cooling come on his stomach. He doesn't want to get up just yet though, so Sam leans over and snags Dean's boxers from the nightstand where they landed in their haste to get out of them. He wipes the come off Dean's stomach and Dean mumbles something that might have been a thank you, but Sam can't understand him really.

They don't speak, but they don't have too. Sam doesn't feel the need to start questioning everything that just happened and Dean is already starting to doze off, so Sam wrangles him under the blankets and turns off the lamp on the nightstand.

The meeting with Lucifer goes exactly how Dean thought it would. It's an utter failure and his brother is now the Devil's plaything. He rages against everything. He gets in the Impala and drives to Bobby's where he screams and yells and breaks things in the junkyard. Bobby watches, a worried frown on his face. When Dean tires himself out from screaming and throwing things around, Bobby is there, handing him a drink. Dean takes it gratefully, nodding to Bobby because his throat aches something fierce and he can't speak any more.

He even yells at Castiel, which the Angel takes in silence, blue eyes fixed on him as he rants and raves and he wants to hit the Angel just because he is an Angel and Angels are dicks, but he doesn't because it would only cause him pain and Castiel wouldn't even feel it any way. He settles for hurling an empty bottle of whiskey off the front porch steps and watching it shatter on the ground.

The pieces of glass sparkle in the sunlight, mocking him with their happy twinkling. He glares at them as though it's their fault that his brother is the Devil and he's stuck with a fallen Angel and no way to get said brother back because their only plan failed spectacularly. His youngest brother is being worn by Michael, another dick, and there's still going to be a fight to end all fights because Angels are dicks and don't care about humanity anyway and he just wants his brother back, but apparently God hates him or something because what he wants never seems to matter.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He has one last plan to try and help Sammy. He gets in the Impala and drives to the cemetery where the ultimate showdown is supposed to happen. He cranks up Def Leppard on the tape deck and lets the music flow through him, calming his nerves. He pulls up and Adam and Sam – no, Michael and Lucifer – are there, facing each other and just staring, which is a little creepy, but all Angels like to stare apparently.

He gets out and leans against the open car door. "Hey, boys. Sorry, am I interrupting something?" He isn't sorry at all. He shuts the car door, careful as always with his baby and walks towards them.

"Hey, we need to talk." He heads for Sam first. He has to think of the person standing before him as Sam and not Lucifer, because it will kill him if he doesn't believe that Sam is still in there somewhere.

Sam glances over at Adam (Michael, the annoying voice in his head corrects), and Adam (Michael) looks annoyed at being interrupted. Sam looks back at Dean, amused. "Dean, even for you, this is a whole new level of stupid."

Dean glares. He hates it when people insult his intelligence. Sure, he's not a genius, but he's not stupid either, thank you very much.

"I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to Sam." He snaps.

"You're no longer the vessel, Dean. You have no right to be here." Michael chimes in. (It's not Adam anymore. He could pretend before, but now he can't. Not when Adam is talking to him like he's scum. That's all Michael there. Dick.)

Dean flicks his gaze over to him, even more annoyed. Why can't Angels just shut up when the adults are talking? He turns his head and looks Michael straight on. "Adam, if you're in there, I am so sorry." He means it too.

"Adam isn't home right now." Michael sneers at him. Dick.

"Well, then you're next on my list, but right now, I need five minutes with him." He turns back to Sam.

"You little maggot. You're no longer a part of the story." Michael moves towards him, anger clear in his face.

"Hey! Assbutt!" Castiel says suddenly.

They all turn to face him. He throws a Molotov Cocktail at Michael and watches as he screams in fury and pain as the flames engulf him and he disappears. "You got your five minutes, but he'll be back." Cas nods at Dean.

"Castiel, did you just Molotov my brother?" Lucifer asks, glaring at Castiel.

"Uhhh, no?" Cas raises his hands, but Lucifer snaps and Castiel, well, he explodes. Lucifer also breaks Bobby's neck when he makes to help Dean.

It doesn't stop there. He beats the shit out of Dean as Dean pleads with Sam to take control. Somehow, he does. He uncurls his fist, stares down at Dean, eyes full of sadness and scoops up the four Rings of the Horsemen. He opens the Cage and drags Michael with him as he reappears.

Dean sinks to his knees, staring at the spot where the ground opened up and swallowed his brother and won't let him go now. Castiel comes back, heals Dean and restores Bobby.

"Are you God, Cas?" Dean asks, willing to hope for once so Castiel can bring his brother back.

Cas denies it, pleased as he is though. He looks remorseful that he can't bring Sam back for Dean. Dean isn't sure what he's going to do now. What can he do? He lost his brother. The one he swore to their father that he would protect and love no matter what. He had broken that promise when he went along with Sam's stupid idea and now he's paying the ultimate price.

His heart aches with every beat and he wants nothing more than to drink himself into oblivion. He does just that when he gets back to Bobby's place with Bobby joining him in silence. He doesn't bother raging against the Angels and Heaven and Hell and God. All it does is make him hoarse and angrier.

He goes back to hunting. It's the only thing he can do. The one thing he can count on. It's what Sam would have wanted, though he's sure Sam wouldn't have wanted him to be so reckless. He never stops looking for ways to bust Sam out of the Cage either. He knows he told Sam he wouldn't, promised him even, but this is one promise he has no intention of keeping. He doesn't know how Sam even asked that of him. Sam wouldn't just let him rot in the Cage if their roles were switched.

He spends a year looking, finding nothing. He's staying at Bobby's when the knock comes. He frowns and gets up from the desk. He opens the door and stares.

"Sammy." He breathes, hardly daring to believe his eyes.

"Hey Dean. You gonna let me in?" Sam smiles at him, looking so incredibly alive.

He drags his brother into a hug and just holds him there, feeling him solid, warm, and real in his arms. Sam hugs back just as tightly.

Maybe he gets what he wants sometimes. Maybe God doesn't hate him as much as he thought. He got his brother back. That's all he needs. The Impala, a nice classic rock tape, pie, and Sammy sitting shotgun on a hunt with him. Life is good again.