Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The place was like a museum. A twisted, dusty museum filled with artifacts that came out of hunts and archeological digs spanning the last fifty years.

"Don't touch anything." Their father turned, shining his light directly at Dean. "I mean it."

Dean held up his hands and made his "I wouldn't dream of it" face, but the minute their father's back was turned, he was lifting a funny looking statue.

"We're here to get the hex box and nothing else. Joe's son's coming to clean the place out tomorrow."

"Dean." Sam hissed at him as John Winchester moved into the next room and Dean turned to face him, shining his flashlight in Sam's eyes. "Stop touching things. For god's sake, we don't even know what half this stuff is."

"Everyone knows the old man was nuts, Sammy, don't be a stick in the mud. Check this out."

He lifted a small figurine of a squatting man with a very, very large phallus, waggling his eyebrows at Sam.

"Got it." John's voice boomed back into the room and Dean tossed the statue at Sam before turning back to grin at their father.

Sam hid the thing in his hands, shoving them behind him.

John looked suspiciously at Dean, then Sam, but shook his head. "Let's get out of here before either one of you ends up cursed with some horrible disease or the ability to see things or some shit. Last thing I need is one of you bitching about your dick falling off."

Dean's face paled visibly and Sam did his best to set the figurine down without drawing attention to himself or the stupid thing, then punched Dean in the arm. They rough housed all the way out to the car where John cuffed them both upside the head. "Stop. Neither one of you is so big I couldn't put you over my knee."

 

 

It started as an itch. Sam rubbed at his crotch absent-mindedly while he was trying to study for his history exam. All that managed to do was get him hard. He huffed, disgusted with himself and made sure his bedroom door was closed before he reached a hand inside his sweats to beat off. He couldn't concentrate when he was hard.

When he came, it almost hurt and his cock didn't exactly go limp. He huffed again and wiped his hand clean and headed down the hall, figuring a nice, cold shower should do the trick.

Only when he got there, Dean was in the shower, singing some damn mullet rock anthem punctuated with sounds Sam didn't want to think about.

John appeared at the end of the hallway. "Bobby called, he's got a hunt for me and I need to get this hex box to Jim. You boys sit tight. There's money on the kitchen table for food."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, Okay. Be careful."

John smiled at him. "Always am Sammy. Keep your brother out of trouble."

"Right. Like he'd let me."

Sam headed back to his room, tried to concentrate on history. However, history wasn't exactly on his mind. To his dismay all he could think about was his brother in the shower. Naked. Wet. His cock seemed to like the image.

He did everything he could think of to make it stop. He jacked off again, coming hard with the image of Dean in his mind. He groaned and shook his head. It was ridiculous, thinking of Dean like that.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean was in his doorway. Sam turned away to hide his erection, pulling the elastic waistband back up and over himself. He dragged in a deep breath. He couldn't look. Not with Dean right there. Dean who was probably only in a towel. Dean still wet.

"Go away Dean." Sam growled.

"Something's wrong, Sammy." Dean said, his voice edging toward desperate. Sam turned then, unable to not respond to Dean in pain. Dean held the door frame, white knuckled while his other hand held his cock through the towel. "It won't stop. I tried everything."

Dean was shivering with cold, his eyes wild with…Sam wasn't sure exactly what that was, but when Sam's eyes met Dean's there was fire in the room, burning his skin, sucking the oxygen from his lungs and before Sam could think he was across the room, pulling Dean's cold body up against his.

Dean tried to push him off, push him away, but Sam rubbed his hands over Dean's arms and that seemed to calm him some. Dean was panting as he let go of the doorframe, his hands reaching for Sam, cupping his face. "Sammy."

"We…um…we need to get you warmed up." Sam said, though his thoughts weren't on blankets and clothing.

He started them moving toward the bed, but Dean dragged his feet. "No, Sam you don't…I can't…." The towel fell, revealing Dean's red cock, hard and angry looking. "It's the damn…thing…the statue…the one with the cock." Dean gasped. "Fuck but I can't make it go away."

"Always gotta touch shit, Dean." Sam muttered, though he was edging toward pretty frantic himself.

Dean's hands came back to his face, onto his shoulders. "Gotta touch."

"We should call Dad." Sam said, though he didn't really want that. He wanted Dean. He wanted Dean desperately…wanted to taste him, kiss him…wanted to feel him.

"No…god, no, Sam. We gotta deal with it." Dean took a deep breath and gathered himself, pulled himself away. He swallowed visibly and waved at Sam's computer. "You're the research wiz. Find something."

Sam didn't want to, but he turned away from Dean who was trying to cover himself up with the towel again. He opened the laptop, and pulled up the page of Dr. Joseph Mendon's work, which he'd had bookmarked since Bobby had introduced them to the old archeologist-turned-hunter. "It looked…what? African maybe?"

The old man hadn't been the best hunter, but he did have a collection of supernatural objects and he archived them with pictures and descriptions on his web page, sort of a reference tool for hunters looking for a particular kind of thing.

"I don't know Sammy, that's your geeky thing, not mine."

Sam clicked on the link to African artifacts and scrolled down a list. He tried a few of them, but none of them looked like what they'd seen. Dean was pacing behind him, pacing and moaning and…"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, exasperated as he realized his brother was jacking off.

"Dude….I gotta…if I don't…" He was shaking his head when Sam looked up. "Just find it, tell me how we fix it."

"I don't think it's here—Wait." Sam clicked on a link for objects used to attract a mate. "Here." He pointed, clicked and there it was, the same damn little figurine that Dean had thrown to him. "Okay…it's supposed to make you…oh. You give it to the person you want to mate with."

"As in sex?" Dean asked, suddenly leaning over his shoulder.

"Yeah…um…" Sam forced himself to concentrate on the screen, not on Dean beside him, hovering over him…holding his cock. "It makes the object of your desire return the desire." Sam skipped down the page a bit. "It is said to be so powerful that once both parties have touched the phallus of the god, there is no remedy but to engage in sexual intercourse, after which the two are bound by the gods, by tribal law."

"There's got to something about undoing it. Keep reading."

"That's all there is, Dean. Nothing else."

"Come on Sammy, keep looking."

Sam gestured at the screen. "Where? Where should I look? That's the end of the page. We should just call Dad. Or Bobby."

Dean looked horrified at the suggestion. "No! God, Sam…when did you get so…fuck! Make it stop."

Sam's own cock was being pretty damn insistent and he grabbed it as he turned to face his brother. "I don't know how." Except now he did know how. All they had to do was have sex.

Like it was that simple.

"Okay. Okay." Dean blew out and headed for the door. "I need a drink. And another cold shower."

"Dean." His voice came out with a whine and Dean stopped at the door, turning to look at Sam.

Sam couldn't control the way his hand moved over his cock, hard under the soft cotton of his sweats and Dean's eyes got big, as if just realizing he wasn't alone in the situation.

"Sammy?"

"You threw the damn thing at me Dean, what did you think?"

"Oh, Sammy…fuck." Dean was moving back into the room, back toward Sam.

"Yeah, Dean, I think maybe that's the point."

That stopped him. Dead in his tracks. "What?"

Sam gestured at the computer. "You heard what it said. We have to do something."

Dean groaned and shook his head. "We are so not doing that."

"Then what Dean?" Sam turned away, rubbing more frantically at his cock now. It hurt, but he couldn't stop. "Get out then…it's worse with you standing there."

Sam didn't look to see if his brother had listened, but a few minutes later he heard the shower come back on. He came again, a wet spot growing under his hand. He paced around his room, afraid to step outside it, afraid to run into Dean, because at least by himself he was only going to rub himself raw, not ruin his brother.

He heard Dean bang out of the bathroom, cussing a blue streak as he headed to the kitchen. He figured he might as well try the shower too. Though from the sounds of it, it wasn't helping Dean.

Still, Sam grabbed his towel and headed for the bathroom. He eased his sweats down over his still very hard cock and climbed into the shower, turning on the cold water and shivering as it flowed over him.

"Shit." Sam stood in the cold water for as long as he could stand it, but it wasn't helping and he was freezing. He wrapped in a towel and shivered all the way back to his room, sitting at his computer to see if there was anything else.

He was starting to climb out of his skin with need. At eighteen, he wasn't completely inexperienced, but this was more than he'd ever felt, an overwhelming need to come, to fuck someone. But not just any someone. Sam groaned and stood to pace, but it was hard to walk.

His door opened and Dean stood there, his eyes dark, smelling of their father's whiskey. "Sam." His voice was deep.

Before Sam could think twice about it, he was across the room, pulling Dean to him. Their lips crashed together painfully and Dean shoved him away. "Fuck, Sam." He wiped his mouth like it was dirty. "We can't."

"We have to Dean." Sam whined. "It fucking hurts."

"I know. I know." Dean moved out of the doorway, but didn't get close. He was panting and his eyes kept coming back to Sam's cock. "Sit…sit on the bed."

"Why?" Sam asked as he moved. "What are you going to do?"

Dean held up a hand to shut him up and took a knee on the floor next to him. "Maybe we can…" He reached for Sam's cock, but stopped short. "You got…um…lotion, maybe?"

"What do I look like Dean?"

"Okay…it's just…dry…it's…." Dean shook his head and spit into his hand before reaching for Sam again. It felt strange, a hand not his own around his dick. Dean licked his lips and nodded. "Okay. We'll just try this." His hand started slow, pulling up the length and sliding back down. It felt…hot and good and wrong in so many ways Sam lost count somewhere around "brother" and "not gay" and "brother" again.

Sam leaned back, his eyes closed as tight as he could get them. He choked on the sounds that wanted to come out, because Dean would never let him live that down…if they lived through this. "Fuck!" His hips thrust up involuntarily and his cock slid out of Dean's hands, but it didn't matter, he was coming anyway, hot and slick, it slid down his heated skin.

He panted and fell back on the bed, covering his face that he was sure had to be just as red as his cock. "Did…did it work?" Dean asked, his voice strained and cracking. Sam held up his hand while he tried to catch his breath.

"Give me a minute." And for a minute, Sam honestly thought it was enough. His cock lay flaccid and sore against his thigh while he caught his breath, but as he sat up, he could feel it, the deep need for more as soon as his eyes landed on Dean. "Oh, god." Sam covered his cock with his hand as it filled yet again. "Dean…"

Dean's horrified expression was almost more than Sam could take. "This is your fault Dean." Sam accused, trying to stand. Dean shoved him back down onto the bed, suddenly on top of him, skin to skin, breathing harsh against Sam's neck. Sam swallowed. "Okay…okay…we can handle this right?" Sam's breath caught in his throat as his brother's cock dragged against his. "It's okay Dean."

Sam inched back on the bed, spreading his legs as he got them free of Dean's weight. "We can do this." He pulled Dean with him, and to his surprise Dean let him, though he was silent, his face set and hard. A little help from him might be nice, because Sam really didn't know what he was doing here, just going on instinct. Dean hovered over him, his hard cock pressed into the crack of Sam's ass.

Neither of them moved.

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes closed. "I can't."

"You have to. Or you have to call Dad…and even then, you might still have to. I'd rather keep him out of this myself."

Sam kept his hands tight around Dean's arms, anchoring him, holding him. Dean wouldn't look at him. When he pulled away, Sam held on, until his eyes finally lifted and Sam could see the resignation in them. "I need to get something. I'll be right back."

Sam nodded and let him go, laying back and listening as Dean ran down the hall and into the kitchen. He came back with a bottle of cooking oil. "You'll thank me later, trust me."

Dean was back to not looking at him as he opened the bottle. "Roll over." His hands were shaking as he poured oil onto his hand and put his hand to his dick. Sam rolled over, his eyes never leaving Dean.

"Bend your knees."

Sam brought his knees up under him so he was kneeling on the bed, his face pressed into the pillows. He jumped when Dean's hand touched him and Dean pulled away. "Sorry…just…sorry."

Sam brought his hands up, fisting them in the pillow under him as Dean's hand lay against his naked ass cheeks, hot and slick. His first touch against Sam's hole was tentative and made Sam's cock twitch with need. "Dean."

"Relax…I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm pretty sure it's going to hurt no matter what you do, Dean." Sam said, starting to get exasperated.

Dean pressed one finger into him and Sam bit his tongue. It slid in on the slick of oil, deeper and faster than Sam expected. "Shit. Fuck." Dean eased it back out, then in again, pressing it against the sides of Sam's ass, moving it around inside him. "Dean…" His cock was hot and full under him and he eased one hand back to hold it, to keep it from scraping against the bed, but the heat of his hand was worse and he came suddenly, spasming around Dean's finger.

"Sam?"

He nodded raggedly. "I'm okay…just come on already…I'm going to die from dehydration from coming before you get on with it."

Dean added a second finger, easing into Sam. It was filling and it didn't exactly hurt…but then came the third and Sam was biting into the pillow…and this wasn't even the main event. "Dean…please…"

Dean breathed something that might have been words, but Sam couldn't really hear anything over the roar in his head and the endless cacophony of needwantnowpleasenowwantneed bubbling in the corners of his brain. When Dean's fingers eased out, Sam may have moaned, but when something bigger, heavier replaced them, Sam's voice keened out.

The press and burn was too much and Sam wanted to pull away, wanted to yell and fight and flail until he escaped it. Dean eased out before he was half way in and Sam groaned in relief, but all too soon it was back, Dean's cock sinking into him. He felt the heat of his brother's body over his, the stretch of his cock buried inside him. "Sammy…you okay?"

"Just do it Dean. Get it over with." Sam spit out. Tears spilled from the corners of his eyes as Dean moved. It hurt so much and yet, his cock was still hard, still leaking come like it was never going to stop.

Dean's hips stuttered against him and heat flooded him, increasing the pain of fullness until Dean withdrew. He collapsed onto the bed panting and Sam curled up on his side, cradling his slowly deflating cock.

For several long moments, neither of them moved. "I think…I think that's it." Sam said finally, moving his hands away from his sore dick. "I'm okay. You?"

The bed moved as Dean stood. "No, I'm not fucking okay Sam, I just fucked my brother." He stormed out of the room and a few minutes later, Sam heard the shower come on. Somehow he knew that this time, the water would be scalding.

Sam told himself that he understood. He got out of the bed, moving slowly as his ass burned, muscles tight. He stripped the bed, found clean sheets and remade the bed. Dean slammed out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, slamming the door.

It was over. But as Sam climbed into the shower himself, he wondered if that would ever be true. As good as the Winchesters were at ignoring things they didn't want to see, Sam wondered if this would be the one thing that finally broke the bond that was formed the day his father had shoved him into Dean's arms and told him to run.

 

 

 

Dean wouldn't look at him the next morning when he came downstairs for breakfast. He sat at the kitchen table with sunglasses on, head hung over a cup of coffee.

"Are you hungover?" Sam asked as he sat with his bowl of cereal.

Dean groaned and stood. "I think this is technically still drunk, Sammy." Dean drained his coffee cup. "Get your ass to school. Come straight home. We got training."

So they were going to ignore that anything had happened. Sam wasn't surprised. He finished his cereal and grabbed his backpack, heading for the front door. "This isn't my fault you know, Dean." Sam said as he passed Dean on the broken down old couch. "And I'm okay." In fact, he was more than okay. After his shower, he'd slept better than he had in weeks. He was a little sore, but when he thought back to the night before, past the pain there was something else. His eyes flicked over Dean stretched out on the couch.

"You're going to be late."

Sam hitched the backpack up further and headed out. He supposed he should be grateful that they got through it without something worse happening. Maybe now Dean would learn a lesson and stop touching absolutely everything.

Then again, it was Dean.

Sam trudged to school, his head filled with Dean. Dean shooting. Dean walking. Dean touching. He stopped and blinked. No, that was wrong. Dean's hands on his skin. Dean's body close to his.

Sam shook his head and exhaled, willing his body not to react. He was almost to school. He really didn't want to be walking into class with a hard on. Then again, nothing like one of Mr. Harrigon's lectures to kill any form of arousal known to man.

He held his backpack in front of him and slinked into the room, easing into his seat without looking up. The class filled in around him and Sam relaxed a little. He bantered with Joe and Brian about the basketball game and the head cheerleader Andrea.

Then the door opened and a young man entered the room. He was not Mr. Harrigon. "Okay, settle in people. Mr. Harrigon is out sick today, I am Mr. Dean and I'll be filling in for him."

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. Mr. Dean. It didn't help that he kind of looked like Dean, green eyes, light brown hair that ended in blonde spikes. This was unfair. Sam let his voice wash over him, tried to force himself to think about ghosts and vampires and other supernatural stuff, but that just led to him thinking about Dean hunting.

He growled in frustration and looked up at the clock. The hour crawled by with Sam doing his best to keep his head in the math and off of his brother's body. By the time the bell rang, he'd almost managed to subdue his erection. He booked between students, aiming for the locker room and his gym class. At least some physical activity couldn't hurt, right? Some exercise to get his mind off the way Dean had touched him the night before, the way his fingers had moved inside him…Sam groaned and ducked around two boys rough-housing.

"Winchester!" He pulled up short and turned, looking for the face that went with the voice. Mr. Collins waved him over to the guidance office, holding the door to let Sam in.

"I'm going to be late for class."

Collins smiled. "Sit, I think you'll agree this is worth it." He moved around his desk and sat, pulling an envelope out of his desk drawer. "This came for you Friday, but you were already gone when I came looking for you."

He handed the envelope across and Sam glanced at the logo in the corner before taking it. "Stanford?" His hand shook a little as he turned the elegant paper in his hands. It was rich stationary, creamy and thick, his name printed in bold letters on the front.

"Still not sure why you had all your college apps sent here, but I think you'll find that's the kind of envelope you want to be getting from someplace like Stanford."

Sam's eyes flicked up to those of his counselor and back to the envelope. He licked his lips and nodded. Inside this envelope were words that could change his life. Forever.

"Go on, open it."

"Yeah, okay." Sam slid a finger under the flap and ran it along the seal to open it, then pulled the papers out of it. He exhaled slow and opened the folded packet of papers.

His eyes scanned the page once, then again, flitting up to the counselor's briefly before taking them in a third time.

"Well?"

"I got in." Sam breathed, his heart pounding in his chest. "I got it. They sent me…" He sorted through the papers that accompanied the letter. His eyes caught on the phrase "full scholarship". "Oh my god, Mr. C." He handed the papers over, pointing to the line.

"Congratulations, Sam. I knew you were going to do great, with your SAT scores and your grades."

A full scholarship. To Stanford. Sam couldn't think, couldn't react. It was a way out, out of hunting, out of the crazy chaos of shotguns and salt and never knowing if he was going to live through the next one. Mr. Collins was talking to him, something about applications for dorm rooms and confirmation and Sam blinked to bring himself back to the moment.

"You want to wait and see where else you got in?" Mr. Collins asked, interpreting Sam's quiet to uncertainty.

"What? No. I just. I got in." He grinned and stood. "I didn't really expect to, you know? I don't know what to say."

"You can start by filling in the confirmation that you accept the scholarships and we should have the course catalog by the end of the week, so you can start figuring out what classes to take."

He handed the letter and the rest of the pages back to Sam, who tucked them into his backpack. He exhaled slowly. "Thank you."

He headed toward the boys’ locker room, his mind no longer on Dean. Stanford. It had been a dream. Despite Mr. Collins’ assurances, Sam never really thought it would happen, and certainly not like this. A full scholarship. He'd still need to figure out something for money so he could eat, but he had months to figure that out. It was almost the end of March. The more pressing concern was how he was going to tell his father. And Dean.

 

 

Dean avoided him. Even when they were in the same room. He didn't look at Sam, didn't talk to him, when he did have to say something, he said it to the room, not Sam.

The whole three days their father was gone, Sam tried, but Dean avoided. Sam came into the kitchen, Dean went to the living room. Sam sat on the couch, Dean went to his room. It was annoying.

More annoying was the fact that Sam couldn't stop the way his body reacted to the small glimpses he got of his brother. Of course, now that he thought about it, maybe that was why Dean was avoiding him. It wasn't like he could exactly hide the fact that Dean coming out of the bathroom in a towel, his skin still damp was enough to make him hard. Not when he was standing right there.

John coming back didn't make it easier. If anything it was worse. He didn't know and he just expected things to be the same.

 

 

Something heavy slammed into Sam's chest and he went over backward.

"Pay attention." John barked at him.

Sam pulled himself up, glaring at Dean. They'd been running training drills all afternoon and Dean was sweating, his skin wet and glistening, the smell of him strong as Sam pulled himself up off the ground. "Sorry," he muttered to his father.

"What are you thinking? If that had been an angry spirit or something, you'd have lost your head."

"I know. I'm sorry. I was…daydreaming." About Stanford. And Dean. About Dean at Stanford. Dean touching him, lying with him. Sam shook his head. He needed to get over himself. He needed some distance. "I have homework to finish."

He didn't wait for his father's permission, just turned and jogged back toward the old house they were renting for the time being. He slammed into his bedroom and threw himself across the bed. He was hard. Again. From thinking about Dean.

It had been nearly a month since the whole thing started. Sam pulled the letter out of his history book and opened it again, his eyes skimming over the words. He hadn't told anyone. He'd gotten at least three more offers, but Stanford was still the best.

There was a noise in the hallway and Sam put the letter away as his door opened. "Dad's pissed."

Sam didn't look up at his brother. "I know. Sorry."

"Don't apologize to me. It's you he's upset with."

"Whatever." Sam held his breath as Dean actually stepped into the room.

"You've been weirder than normal lately. You okay?"

Sam closed his eyes. "Yeah, Dean. I'm fine."

"No…lingering effects from the…you know…thing?"

Sam looked up at him sharply, wondering what he meant. "Um…like what?"

Dean shrugged, drinking from the water bottle in his hands. "Just…no feelings, no hard on that won't quit?"

Sam shook his head slowly, squinting now at his brother. "Why? You?"

Dean made a face. "Just checking in Sam. You've been acting weird around me."

"Me?" Sam sat up, covering his crotch with the book in his hands so Dean wouldn't see that he was, in fact, hard. "You're the one who darts out of the room every time I come in."

"See, that right there, I've been doing that for years, and you're just now noticing?"

Sam shook his head. "Dude, whatever. I really do have homework."

"Straighten up, or Dad's gonna kick your ass."

Dean left and Sam sighed in relief. Clearly something was wrong with him. He pulled the letter back out of his back pack and stared at it. It was the right thing to do. Way more right than sitting here pining over his brother of all things.

 

 

The next weeks got progressively worse, as their father started looking for where they would go next and Dean kept avoiding him, and when they were in the same room they fought. Still, he didn't know how to say it.

Not until his father showed up in his bedroom door one night the last week of school. "You packed up, ready to go?" His eyes skimmed the room that more than answered that question.

"I…was thinking." Sam said. "It's only one more week. I kinda want to do the graduation thing."

His father frowned at him. "We’ve got a hunt to get to."

Sam rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans. "Yeah, I was thinking that you and Dean could go, and I'll…catch up. It's just a week."

John frowned harder. "You want me to leave you here. Alone?"

Sam sighed and stood. "I am eighteen, Dad. Fully capable of taking care of myself for a week." He paced. "I can take a bus to Bobby's after, you can swing by and get me when the hunt's done."

John leaned up against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched him. Sam's head filled with a hundred arguments, trying to find one that had a chance of working.

"I mean, I'm top of my class, and it would look strange to not finish, right?"

"Okay."

"I could—wait, what?" Sam turned to see his father grinning.

"I said, okay. With a few conditions."

"Really?" Sam hadn't actually thought this would work. His eyes narrowed. "What conditions?"

"You check in every few days. You keep a loaded gun close. And when this is over you double up on the training you've been blowing off all month."

Sam nodded eagerly. "Yes sir."

"Get your ass out to the car, we'll go get you that bus ticket and some food to hold you over."

Sam scrambled out the door of his bedroom and out to the car. He had no intention of actually going to Bobby's when it was over. He had already planned on hitching his way to California, or maybe stealing a car, anything to get himself to Stanford. He hadn't actually thought about what he would do once he got there since school wouldn't start until September and he would have no money and no place to live, but if his father had taught him anything in the last eighteen years, it was how to survive.

He'd figure something out.

Chapter Text

 

 

 

He traded the bus ticket for one that got him most of the way to California. When the bus stopped in some rinky-dink town in the middle of the night, Sam slipped an envelope in the mail with no return address. It would get to Bobby's about the time Sam was supposed to. It was all he could manage of goodbye, just asking that they let him go, let him find whatever it was that would make him happy and asking them to please not look for him.

Not that it would matter. They would look, at least at first. Sam had already done everything he could to cover his tracks. Maybe he was wrong though. Maybe Dean knew and if he did, if he knew that Sam still wanted him, that Sam dreamed about him, craved his touch, he would be disgusted and maybe that would be enough.

By the time he got to Reno, he had about eleven dollars in his pocket and a couple of bottles of water in his backpack.

Sam broke out one of his fake IDs and found some dive bar as far from the big casinos as he could, figuring he was less likely to get himself into trouble where the security wasn't nearly as tight. He stood in the shadows, watching the pool tables for a while. He wasn't nearly as good as Dean with the hustle, but he was better than Dean at the game.

He put on his best "aw-shucks" country-boy in the big city face and moved in closer, watching a guy that was pretty good beat a pretty girl in cowboy boots. As she moved away, Sam cleared his throat.

The guy looked him over. "You next?"

"I don't know, mister. I'm not very good."

"I'll go easy on ya."

"I don't have much money."

"Fifty bucks. I'll even let you break."

"Well, okay."

"I'm Bill." The guy racked up the balls.

Sam picked out a cue stick. "I'm Sam. It's my first time in Reno."

"Yeah? Where from?"

"Minnesota." Sam said, randomly picking the first state that came to mind. He stepped up to the table, adjusting the cue ball. He made the break messy, but enough to sink at least one ball, grinning up at the man. "I don't usually get one in the first time."

"Lucky break."

"I guess." Sam eyed the table, moving around the side and picking a shot. His ball missed the hole by inches and ricocheted off the rail into several others, scattering them. "Your shot."

He played well enough that when he doubled down he'd be believable, but bad enough to actually lose by quite a bit. His last shot only missed going into the hole because of the angle, leaving his opponent with only one ball and a perfectly placed cue ball, which wasn't as easy as some might think.

"Damn. I guess that's that." He started to reach for his wallet, but the guy grinned at him.

"You did pretty good there at the end. Want to have another go?"

Sam hesitated, wallet in hand. "Double or nothing?"

"If you think you can handle it."

Sam nodded. "Okay, I guess so. Your break then."

He played the next game close, edging past Bill just at the end. He finished with just two balls on the table, Bill's number 9 and the cue ball. He beamed. "I can't believe I made that shot! That was awesome!"

"One more." Bill growled, frowning at the table. They had started to draw attention, a couple hot girls in tight fitting jeans leaning against the wall watching. "One more game, $200."

Sam had him. He glanced at the girls. "What do you think ladies?"

"I think you should do it," the dark haired one said, though her eyes were on his ass when she said it.

"Okay, one last game." Sam agreed.

Bill racked the balls and Sam stepped in to break. The trick with the last game was always to play good enough to win, but not so good that you got made for hustling. That was the part Sam always had trouble with. He sank two shots and missed one to give Bill a chance at the table. Bill had clearly stepped up his game, sinking three in a row and barely missing the fourth. Sam licked his lips and stepped in when it was his turn.

The first shot was easy, the cue ball lined up perfectly on Sam's number 6. He dropped the three next on a long shot banked off the rail and into a side pocket. The four was a hard shot and almost didn't sink, bouncing off Bill's number two and sending it spinning off to the far side of the table. That left him the number one and the number five, plus the eight ball.

Sam circled the table, fidgeting with his cue. He didn't want to leave Bill too much time, or any easy shots. Bill was watching him close, and Sam couldn't help but notice, so were a few guys that looked like friends of Bill's. He exhaled slow and lined up his next shot. He dropped the five, but dropped the cue ball too, forfeiting the turn to Bill.

Bill grinned and pulled the cue ball out, circling around to place it. "Too bad kid." He watched Bill sink two of his four, then make a nearly impossible shot to sink the third, leaving the cue ball lined up for an easy shot on his last ball.

Sam held his breath, eyes focused on the pocket. If the ball went in, Sam was in trouble. Big trouble. All Bill had to do was sink the 8 ball then, and Sam would have to cough up $200 he didn't have or try to convince the man to play one more game, one Sam would have to slam, whether or not that branded him as a hustler.

He made the stroke, smooth as could be. Sam's eyes narrowed and he chanted no no no no no under his breath as the cue ball connected with the number two and sent it straight for the pocket. Sam closed his eyes, waiting for the drop. Instead, he heard Bill curse.

Sam opened his eyes to find the ball spinning in place just shy of the pocket, like a breath of air would knock it in. As it slowly came to a stop, Sam moved to the table, blinking. There was no way he should have missed the shot.

"Fuck, what the hell?" Bill leaned over the table, trying to see what had gotten in the way.

Sam licked his lips and looked for the cue ball. It was sitting a few inches from his last ball, lined up for an easy bank off the side rail and into the corner. He took a breath to steady his nerves and made the shot, sinking the number one ball. He stood up, watching the cue ball spin over the green velvet.

He felt eyes and looked up. Bill and his three friends staring at him. "Um…eight ball in…" he eyed the two likely pockets and pointed to the side nearest him. "…here." He tried to make himself seem nervous and awed and not confident at all as he took the shot, watching the black ball bounce off the rail and across the green fluid and easy into the hole. "I-I won." He turned to the girls watching. "Did you see that? I won!"

He turned to Bill who was seething. "How the hell does that happen?" He looked to his friends. "I don't lose to some hick from Minnesota. Not ever."

"Well, you did tonight, Bill." The shorter of the two girls said, smirking and handing Sam a beer. "Pay the man so I can get him drunk and take him home with me."

Sam choked on the beer, sputtering as Bill dropped a pile of twenties on the table. "I'm sorry, what?" His hand moved to grab the money, pocketing it before turning.

"I'm Mandy, this is my sister Chelle."

"Uh, Sam. I'm Sam."

She slid a hand up Sam's arm. "We've never seen anyone take Bill for two games before…and you have the hottest ass I've seen in weeks. So how about you come to the bar, let us buy you a few drinks and we'll let you take us home and do all kinds of nasty, dirty things to us."

"I…uh…" Her hand was on his chest until Bill pulled on her arm.

"I don't think so."

She pulled her arm away. "You don't own me, Bill." She threaded her arm through Sam's and started toward the bar. Chelle trailed after them while Bill and his friends stared.

"I really think I should—” Mandy put a shot in his hand.

"Shut up and drink." She pushed the shot up to his mouth and Sam had no choice but to drink it, or let it spill all over him.

Chelle handed him a beer to wash the shot down with, and Sam couldn't help but grin at the sight of himself in the mirror over the bar. Dean would be proud; here he stood, having successfully hustled a pretty decent pool player, a pretty girl on each arm, and apparently about to get very, very lucky.

Sam's grin faded a little at thought of his brother. Dean would be all swaggering confidence, cocky grin, one arm around each waist, letting them pour drinks into him. Sam swallowed and turned away from Mandy with the next shot. He couldn't do this.

He shook his head and backed off a step. "I gotta…" He gestured toward the restroom and bolted, dodging through the crowd until he got to the relative quiet of the bathroom. Dean would never forgive him for blowing a chance like this. He could almost hear his brother's voice in his head. It had his cock hard, aching inside his jeans.

He'd never been with anyone. Well, except for Dean. And he couldn't even think about what he would do with those two girls. All he could think about was Dean…the way Dean's hand curled around his cock…the feeling as Dean came inside him. Sam stood in the only stall and eased his cock out.

He stroked himself fast and hard, remembering the sound of Dean's voice as he moaned in heat, whispering his name as he came into the toilet. He couldn't go out there and face those girls. Maybe if he hid in the bathroom, they'd get bored and move on to someone else.

What Sam needed to do was get the hell out of the bar and find some cheap hotel to crash in for the night. He'd take the two hundred dollars in his pocket and get a bus ticket to Palo Alto the next morning. Maybe if he went to the school and explained his situation they'd let him enroll for the summer semester, get into dorms early…or maybe he'd have to get a job for a few months.

Either way, he really didn't need Mandy and Chelle and all that went with them. Not now.

Sam pulled the money out of his pocket. He didn't want to be walking through this neighborhood with that kind of money floating loose. He'd lose it if anything happened. He considered his shoe, but didn't really want to walk on that much, not when he didn't know how far he'd have to walk.

He ended up settling for his underwear, tucking the money in before zipping up. Not the most original idea, but he was starting to really feel the alcohol, his head buzzing as he let himself out of the stall, shouldering his backpack.

Sam ducked out of the bathroom, keeping his head low. He just had to get to the front door without the two girls spotting him. He used other people as shields, inching forward until he reached the door. Okay, so Dean would never, ever do anything like this. Dean would still be at the bar, drinking and kissing…Sam groaned and closed his eyes, breathing in the stifling heat of the Reno night air.

He opened them quickly when a fist connected with his stomach.

"Over here."

Hands dragged him away from the door, fists hit his face all before he got his bearings enough to yank himself free, staggering back, only to be grabbed by still more hands. "Hustling me at pool is one thing boy, but you ain't man enough to be walking off with Mandy."

Sam was shoved forward and got a good look at his situation. Five guys circled around him. Sam wiped at the blood already coming from his nose. This wasn't going to be pretty. "Okay, guys, really…is this necessary?"

The fist to his jaw said that it was necessary and Sam moved with the blow, coming back with one of his own. He may have been outnumbered, but these guys were going to know they'd been in a fight too before it was over.

A steel-toed boot in his knee knocked him down and he covered up as other boots joined in, trying to protect his ribs and his face and lashing out with his own feet.

Almost as suddenly as it all began, the beating stopped. A hand fell on his shoulder. "Hey. Hey, you okay?"

Sam opened his eyes, blinking up at the face of some woman in a uniform. "I…uh…think so." He struggled to sit up. "Nothing broken I don't think."

"Well, maybe that nose." She smiled when she said it. "Harry?"

A man in uniform squatted on Sam's other side. "He'll live, Sue." He gestured up at the men who had just been beating him. "You want to press charges?"

Sam shook his head, regretting it as it set off clamoring bells and thunder inside. "It was just a misunderstanding."

"You sure? These boys are trouble."

Sam let the man help him. "Thank you Officers. I'm okay."

"Let us at least give you a lift." Sam looked at Bill and his friends, proud to see at least a black eye or two.

"Yeah, okay…I…" He wanted a bed, but maybe just getting the hell out of town was better. "I was on my way to the bus station."

"Right then, Harry, you got this?"

Harry nodded and Sue herded him toward the police car. Sam fussed with his nose as he got in, but didn't think it was broken. He tilted his head back, squeezing gently to stop the blood flow.

"You sure you don't want to go to an emergency room?" Officer Sue asked.

"Trust me, I've had worse than this and not needed an emergency room."

"Awfully young to be getting beat up at a bar, aren't you?"

Sam looked at her, trying to decide if she was going to make things difficult. "Like I said, misunderstanding." He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "I'm on my way to school in California."

"School, eh?"

"Stanford." It was silly, but sitting here alone he just wanted someone, anyone to be proud of him. To be proud of what he'd managed to accomplish. With as much as they moved around and as little emphasis as his father ever put on education, Sam had managed to get a full scholarship to a tough school and no one knew but the guidance counselor in the small town he'd left behind when he'd slunk away on a bus without even finding the nerve to call his brother and tell him. "Full scholarship and everything. I just need to get there."

"You sound like a smart kid. Smart enough to keep your nose out of trouble."

"Yes ma'am." The car came to a stop and Sam opened his door. "And thank you."

Sam shouldered his backpack and headed into the bus station that he had only walked out of a few hours before. His first stop was the men's room, standing under the flickering overhead light to wash up the blood from his face and clean up his shirt as much as he could. No matter what he did, he was going to look like he got beat up.

Already he could see that his left eye was going to blacken and his jaw line was swollen and probably going to bruise. Just how he wanted to show up on Stanford's door, looking like trouble. He fished the money out of his underwear, grateful he'd thought to hide it in case the misunderstanding had gone on any longer.

He wouldn't have been surprised to wake up in some gutter with nothing but his clothes by the time it was over. He sighed and pulled a hand through his hair. One bus ticket to Palo Alto, and he'd have enough left to eat something when he got there, maybe get a room for a night or two. After that…well, he'd figure that out when he got there.

 

 

Getting from the San Francisco bus station to anything near the Stanford campus wasn't as easy as he'd anticipated, but Sam finally found himself at a diner near the campus, counting out the last of his money.

He had ended up paying out more than fifty dollars the night before for a room in the outskirts of San Francisco. Another ten getting down the peninsula.

That left him about seven dollars. Sam exhaled. At the very least he should be able to get a meal. He slipped into the diner and took a seat in a booth. Before he was fully in the seat a blonde in an impossibly pink uniform was at the table, smiling at him. "Don't you look like trouble looking for a place to happen?"

Sam covered the worse of the bruising on his face with one hand, wincing a little. "I ah, there was a little misunderstanding."

"Between his fist and your head?"

Sam shook his head, wincing again. The woman, Jessica, if her nametag was telling the truth had no sense of boundaries. "Something like that."

"A girl? Or money?" She leaned on the table to get a better look. "I'm betting on a girl." She inhaled as she stood. "Or guy…whatever, you know?"

She held a pad and a pen and lifted both eyebrows when he didn't answer. "So, what'll you have?"

"Water, and whatever is good for seven dollars or less."

"Ooh, both girl and money, eh? That's a tough one. You just sit there. I'll bring you something good."

She sashayed away, turning to smile at him before she went into the swinging door that led to the kitchen. Sam sighed and tried to concentrate on figuring out a way to get a little cash. He had a credit card in his wallet, but that was only as a last resort. Dean knew the name on the card, and if his brother did look for him, using the card was like drawing him a map.

He could hustle some pool if he could find a bar, but he didn't have anything to start with. He looked up as the waitress returned. She dropped a bag of ice on the table with a towel and a big glass of water.

To his surprise, she sat down opposite him. "Ice your face. You'll thank me later."

Sam huffed, irritated with her, and the whole situation, but he lifted the ice and towel and held it to his face.

"I'm Jess."

"So I gathered." Sam gestured at her nametag. She grinned. "Sam." He pointed at himself, then held out his hand. "Winchester. Sam Winchester."

"Welcome to Palo Alto, Sam Winchester. Here for a reason?"

Sam frowned at her, but she plucked the bus ticket out of his open backpack. "School."

She crossed her arms and waited for more. He exhaled, even more irritated. "Stanford. I…"

"You do realize school doesn't start until the fall, right?"

"Jess, order up."

She got up and went to the window, coming back with two plates of food. She put one in front of Sam and sat down with the other. "I'm taking my break."

The hamburger on his plate smelled really good. Sam ignored her for a moment while he ate, focused on that so he wouldn't have to think about what came next. "I was hoping I could…start early, or something." Sam said after a while.

"Well, this happens to be the first of two weeks where there is almost nobody at the school to talk to. Summer semester starts in a few weeks, but you had to be registered for that a month ago."

Sam squinted at her and got another of her bright grins. "I'm a sophomore, Psychology." She licked at the ketchup on her lips. "You got somewhere to go while you wait?"

Sam didn't even try to hide his disappointment. "Not really. I…" He exhaled. "I have a full scholarship waiting for me…but it took everything I had just to get here."

"So what you need is a place to stay, a job, a friend or two."

"You make it sound like I can just order it off the menu."

She smiled and lifted her burger. "What I'm offering Sam isn't on the menu." Her foot ran up the inside of his thigh, pressing lightly into his crotch.

"I…uh…" He could feel his face turning bright red.

She laughed and pulled back. "Eat. I'm kidding."

He got the distinct impression she only said that to get him to relax. "I happen to have room in my apartment. My former roommate left and won't be back. And, it just happens that Phil…" She pointed to the man Sam could see through the window into the kitchen. "Needs someone who can chop and slice and wash dishes. Interested?"

"Um…just like that?" Sam shook his head. Stuff like that doesn't just happen. Ever.

"Pay sucks, but you get to eat free and the apartment's in walking distance."

"You're just going to offer me your apartment? You don't even know me."

"I know what I need to. You're smart; you got a full scholarship to Stanford. You're resourceful; you got here without any help. You're tough; you took a beating and are still standing."

"How do you know I'm not just lying to you? Maybe I'm some kind of psycho serial killer or something."

The grin faded and she got very serious, looking at him carefully. "I'm a very good judge of character, Sam. I think there's a reason you came into my diner today and sat at my table."

Sam looked around them. He was the only one in the place. All the tables were hers. He had a nagging feeling in his stomach, a suspicion that it shouldn't be this easy. He wanted to say no. He wanted to believe it could all be real though too. She was a beautiful woman and offering him everything he needed right at that moment.

Sam took a deep breath. "Okay, but just until I get on my feet."

She nodded, still quite serious about the whole thing. "Of course."

Sam turned his attention back to his plate as the door chimed and a young family came in. "Ah, duty calls. I'll be back."

 

 

That night Sam slept on Jessica's couch. The next day he started working at the diner. Just like that, just like she said. When they weren't working, Jessica turned out to be a witty, friendly woman with a taste for esoteric literature, really cheesy porn movies and late night conversations about whatever random topic came to her over ice cream or popcorn or pizza.

"So…Sam Winchester. You're eighteen, away from home for the first time, but won't tell where home is. You make faces when I say family, so you must have some, but no pictures, no names…you're like a mystery."

Sam laughed nervously and toyed with his ice cream. "Also, you seem to not like chocolate ice cream or strawberry. I'm bewildered."

"Maybe I'm just a vanilla kind of guy." Sam said, putting his bowl down on the bed.

She raised an eyebrow. "Now why is it I don't believe that?"

Sam pulled a pillow from behind him and fluffed it before shoving it between him and the headboard. "Believe what you want, Jess. I'm a pretty simple guy."

"And you want simple things." Jess added, lifting a spoon full of strawberry ice cream. "Like a simple job and a simple bowl of ice cream."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Normal. I want normal."

She smirked at him. "Normal is overrated."

"When you've never had it, normal looks pretty damn good."

"Ah now we're getting somewhere." She licked her lips. "So Simple Sammy hasn't had a normal life. Do tell."

Sam pursed his lips and groused a little. He hadn't meant to lead into that. He sighed and crossed his arms. "It was just…complicated. We moved around a lot."

She moved so that she was straddling over his stretched out legs, her ice cream bowl held up near her face. "We? Who is we? Mom, Dad, sister, brother? Fat Uncle Mike?"

He wanted to fidget, moving his legs under her, his sweatpants riding up his legs a little. She squirmed and pressed down and he swallowed hard as he realized she wasn't wearing underwear under her nightshirt.

"No sister. My mother…" He was obviously going to have to tell her something or she'd never let it go. "My mother died when I was just a baby. My father and brother and I never really settled down after."

She inched up his legs, eyes on his face, even after he looked away. "No Fat Uncle Mike then?"

Sam shook his head. She was sitting on his thighs. "But someone obviously hurt you."

Sam felt the color drain from his face as he struggled to find his voice to deny it. "No…I…"

Her eyes were filled with sympathy as she leaned in closer, setting her ice cream bowl on the table beside the bed. Her hand was cold as it fell on his chest, the chill seeping through the thin material of his sweatshirt. "It's okay Sam."

No, he was pretty sure it really wasn't okay. If he told her…if she knew what he had done, she wouldn't keep touching him that way, wouldn't brush her lips over his and inch ever closer to straddling his groin. Her kiss moved from his lips, up his jaw. "I wasn't…I've never…" Sam couldn't figure out what he was trying to say with her tongue sliding over his ear.

"Are you trying to tell me that you're a virgin, Sam?"

Sam pulled back from her, clunking his head on the wall behind him. "What? No…well, I mean…not…not exactly."

She smirked at him and in one long, fluid motion had her night shirt off and tossed onto the floor. She was straddling over him, naked, long blond hair just tickling her nipples. "It’s an easy question, Sam. Either you are…or you’re not."

Jessica's hand slid down his arm until she found his hand and lifted it up to her breasts. "Ever done this?"

Sam licked his lips, his eyes trapped on their hands, on the way she was moving his hand in tiny circles over the skin of breast. "Ah…I…once. On a dare. I was thirteen."

She lifted his hand, licking long and slow over his palm before putting it back on her nipple. "That's sweet…How about this?" Her free hand slid up his thigh and onto his slowly hardening cock.

Sam squirmed and shifted as if he could escape the hand. "Yeah…I mean…"

"Yourself?" she asked as her hand closed around him, the material of the sweatpants bunching up under her fingers. As she pulled down, the material came down with it, slowly exposing the head of his cock.

"Yeah…Yeah." His eyes transfixed on the tip of his cock, on her fingers now circling it. Sam's hand twitched on the bed, lifting up to grab her wrist. He didn't pull her away though. No one else, no one other than Dean had ever touched him there, like that. He licked his lips and tried to keep from thrusting up into the tight circle of her fingers.

"Someone else?"

"What?" Sam blinked and looked up at her.

"Has anyone else touched you like this?"

"Dean." Sam froze, but Jessica purred at him. He hadn't meant to say that. He didn't want her knowing about Dean.

"Oooh…naughty boy."

Sam tried to move, wanting to get away, be anywhere but where he was, but Jessica's mouth was on his, her hand stroking his cock, her body moving and before he could figure it all out, she was sinking down onto him, his cock inside her hot, wet pussy. "Someday you'll have to tell me all about him." Jessica said, moving up his cock and sinking back down. "But right now, it's all about me…and you…"

Sam bit his lip as she rode him, his hands falling to settle on her hips. She was smaller then Dean, lighter. When Dean had pressed against him he'd been solid, heavy, every bit of his body a part of what he was doing to Sam. Even when Jessica's full weight rested on his hips he could barely feel her there, all but where his dick disappeared inside her body. That he felt every hot, wet inch of.

As he started to come, he had a brief moment of panic, realizing belatedly that he hadn't worn a condom, but she just bore down on him, grinding against him as she guided the hand she still held against her nipple down to where they were joined, pressing Sam's finger into the wetness, rubbing over a hard nub that made her shudder and ride up on his still mostly hard cock as she groaned.

Her bright blue eyes fixed on his as she climaxed, her body clutching at him, holding him and she grinned as her thighs squeezed him tightly. "Bet Dean never did that."

Sam closed his eyes as she moved off him, flopping down onto the bed beside him. "So…obviously you're not gay."

Sam groaned and covered his face. "Seriously? You…you just…and now you want to talk about…" He shook his head.

"It was just sex Sam. You're so uptight! You need to relax."

"Relax? I'm relaxed." Okay so maybe relaxed wasn't exactly the right word for what he was…but his brain was misfiring and his thoughts about Dean were getting all mixed in with what just happened and he wasn't sure he could trust himself to talk at all.

"Right, because your voice always squeaks like a girl's when you're relaxed." Jessica lay on her side, her fingers walking down his stomach and circling his cock. Sam fumbled with the waist of his sweatpants and covered himself before she could touch him again. "You embarrassed? Freaked out? What?"

"I…don't know." Sam answered honestly. "I just…I've never thought much about…it."

"It being sex?" Jessica lifted an eyebrow and leaned in to kiss him. "You are a guy, right?"

Sam sighed in frustration. Talking to her was difficult. "About…gay or…whatever."

She seemed to accept that and nodded. "Okay, that I'll buy." Her fingers slid under the hem of his t-shirt. "So…now you've had both…and…?"

Sam had always been good at reading people, at knowing what answer they were looking for and giving it to them, because it helped him fly under the radar. Jessica he couldn't read. At all. "And what?"

"Which was better?"

"Better?" The squeak was back in his voice and she smiled at him. "Just…different."

"Good answer." She kissed him again. "So, who is Dean?"

That was where Sam had to draw the line. He sat up, getting off the bed before she could pull him back. "Just someone I used to know. That's all. I don't want to talk about it." He grabbed the ice cream bowls and headed to the kitchen, half surprised when she didn't follow him.

He dropped the bowls in the sink and went to the second bedroom. The one that held his things, all still stashed in his backpack. The used mattress he was using as a bed still lay on the floor with the sleeping bag she had loaned him. He flopped onto the mattress and stared up at the ceiling, wondering where Dean was, if he was looking for Sam.

He imagined Dean angry, eyes flashing, fists clenching…angry because Sam left, because he couldn't find his brother…because he needed his brother. Sam's cock filled again, hard at the thought of Dean needing him the way Sam wanted Dean. He started to stroke himself, but then pulled his hand away.

Dean didn't need him. Not like that. The very thought sickened Dean. The fact that they'd been forced to fuck had made Dean hate him, made it so he couldn't even look at Sam. How could he feel so aroused thinking about it?

He rolled to face the wall, staring at some imagined spot until he finally managed to close his eyes and sleep.

 

 

It took almost a month for Sam to stop expecting Jessica to kick him out onto the street, or Dean to show up at the diner out of the blue or for it all to fall apart. It took almost two months for him to use some of the money he made working for Phil in the kitchen to buy a few things other than clothes off the rack at the Salvation Army store.

It wasn't like he and Jessica were a couple…not exactly, but it was comfortable. They each lived in their own space, but she would show up in his doorway and smile and they'd end up in his bed…or hers. The sex was incredible and she proved over and over that she was nothing like Dean, but that did nothing to stop him from thinking about his brother.

He had friends. They were mostly her friends, but they seemed to like him too. They hung out at the diner and talked and went to movies and played stupid games. It was so much like normal he let himself believe he could do this, that he could have this.

He got registered for classes and picked up his books and when he got home that night, Jessica was waiting with pizza and a smile. They ended up having sex on the kitchen floor, Jessica on her hands and knees as Sam pounded into her from behind and she squealed when his thick fingers found her clit, rubbing it in tight circles until she came.

It was later, when they were laying on the couch, a movie on the television, casually touching that she asked, "Is this normal enough for you Sammy?"

Her voice was soft and he was comfortable, murmuring, "Yeah, Dean," into her hair before he realized it. Something in the way she said his name made him think of Dean, dropped him into a fantasy of having Dean here, like this.

She didn't react the way he might expect. She didn't stiffen, or get angry, just turned to look up at him, concern in her eyes. Her hand caressed his face. "I'm sorry, Jess. I…I don't…"

"Shhh…" She kissed him lightly. "It's okay. I wish you'd talk to me about him…but I'm not angry."

Sam sighed, sagging under her into the couch. "I…just can't."

"He really fucked you up, didn't he?" She lay against him, setting her head on his chest.

"He…loved me." Sam said hesitantly. "In his own way. I just…needed more and he couldn't give it to me." His heart skipped. It was more than he'd said before, more honest maybe than he'd ever been, even with himself.

They were quiet, the movie playing along without either of them really noticing. "Sam…I haven't said anything before…but…" She sat up slowly and looked at him, tucking long blond hair behind an ear as she put a hand on his chest. "I know someone…a counselor of sorts…he helps people…like you."

Sam couldn't look up at her, at the pity in her face. "Jess…I don't want…"

Her fingers tapped on his chest. "I know. You're a guy. You don't want to talk about mushy feelings." She shook her head, knocking the hair loose she just tucked away. "He's not like that. He…makes it okay."

She bit her lip and sat back, falling to the other side of the couch. "I never told you I was raped." She moved so she wasn't touching him at all. "I was fifteen and the guy was…someone I knew pretty well, or thought I did. It really fucked me up, Sam. I went…frigid. I couldn't let anyone touch me. Daniel helped."

Somehow Sam couldn't see Jess frigid, not when she was so willing to touch, so natural and easy in the way she flirted and loved people. "Jess, I…I'm sorry."

She smiled and stood. "Don't be. If it hadn't happened, I might not have found him…and finding him…changed my life." She turned the television off and turned to look at him. "He's having an open house thing this weekend. We could go…" He must have made a face that expressed his distaste, because she crossed the room and sank onto the couch, kissing his hands and holding them. "Just once. Meet him and if it isn't for you, I'll never bring it up again. Okay?"

The last thing Sam wanted was some New Agey psycho-babble pusher to tell him to get in touch with his inner child or whatever shit he was peddling, but Jessica looked so genuinely concerned and it was just the one time so he found himself agreeing. "Yeah, okay. One time."

She beamed at him and straddled over him, peppering his face with tiny kisses. "You're going to love Daniel."

Sam found it hard to think about Daniel or anyone with her grinding against him the way she was. In minutes he wasn’t even thinking about Dean as she held his cock and slid down onto it.

Chapter Text

 

"So what is this place again?" Sam asked as Jessica led him by the hand up the stairs to the rather church-like building in San Francisco.

"It's a retreat of sorts. Brother Daniel lives here, and so do some of the others. There are classes and special events too." Jessica smiled at a man in a white tunic and sandals at the door.

"The Temple of Liberation?" Sam asked skeptically as she led him through the main doors and into a long hall. There were stacks of white clothes on low tables and curtained off rooms. Jessica sorted through the piles and handed Sam a tunic and pants. "Really?"

Jessica patted his hand. "Really. It symbolizes leaving the world outside."

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Sam went into one of the changing rooms and stripped out of his clothes, pulling on the tunic and pants. By the time he emerged, Jessica was already dressed and putting her clothes in a cubbyhole near the doors out of the hall. "What about shoes?" Sam asked as she took his clothes and tucked them away.

"You won't need them." She took his hand and led him to the doors. "Okay, remember what I said, relax and just be yourself."

Sam inhaled and held it for a minute, wondering what exactly he was when he was himself. He exhaled and she opened the doors, leading him inside.

He wasn't sure exactly what he had been expecting, but the first thing he saw certainly wasn't it. The doors opened onto a courtyard of sorts, with stone walkways around the perimeter and an expanse of grass where people in the same white clothes were stretched out on blankets in couples and small groups talking, some of them kissing. There was a fountain in one corner and the whole place had a peaceful quality about it, like a church.

Jess tugged on his hand and led him along the right side of the courtyard, stopping as they neared the double doors at the other end to greet another man in white. Her kiss was a lot more friendly than Sam expected and he felt a light tinge of jealousy, chastising himself immediately because he had no hold on Jessica.

"Brian, this is Sam. I'm bringing him to meet Brother Daniel."

Brian smiled broadly at Sam, holding out one hand that Sam took hesitantly. Brian's eyes closed, his other hand joining the first, holding Sam's between them in a soft, warm embrace that was oddly soothing and yet disconcerting at the same time. "Welcome, Sam. I hope you find what you are looking for."

Sam wasn't sure what that meant, or why Brian thought he was looking for something…but he didn't really get to ponder it because Jessica was pulling on his arm, dragging him through the doors and into a lobby of sorts. They passed by a series of rooms that looked like classrooms, a meeting hall, and then Jessica knocked on an office door.

The man that opened the door was not what Sam expected either. He was maybe six foot tall, with dark brown hair that he wore cut close. He was young, maybe twenty-five, dressed in the same white pants they all wore and nothing else. He smiled and hugged Jessica, kissing her deeply. Sam squirmed a little.

"Is this the young man we spoke of, Jessica?"

Sam blushed a little as Jessica took his hand. "Brother Daniel, this is my good friend Sam. Sam, Brother Daniel." She put his hand in Daniel's and he covered it with his other, the same way Brian had.

"Ah, yes, yes. It is good you have come Sam. Won't you step inside?"

Jessica rose up on tip toes and kissed his cheek. "I'll be around when you're done."

"What? You're not…?"

Daniel's hands tightened around his and Sam found himself drawn in out of the hall before he was aware he was moving. The office wasn't what he was expecting either. There was no desk, just comfortable places to sit, from a couch to beanbags and rugs and pillows. The walls were painted various shades of blues and purples and there was incense burning somewhere he couldn't quite see.

There was a doorway into another space, all draped with beads and fabric.

"You are uncomfortable." Daniel said with a soft smile. "I understand. Please." He released Sam's hand and gestured expansively to the room. "Sit."

Sam didn't sit, not right away, instead he wandered the room, looking at the abstract art on the walls, half surprised to find that it wasn’t all that abstract and fairly erotic.

"You do not really desire to be here, do you, Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "Not really, but I promised Jessica I'd let you try…whatever it is you do."

"What I do Sam, what I try to do, is help people who need help." Sam turned to find Daniel hadn't moved yet from where he had released Sam's hand. "Do you need help?"

"Jessica seems to think I do." Sam sighed. "Look, no offense, but I'm not…I don't believe in…all that New Age crap."

Daniel laughed. "Good, neither do I. You think that's what I do? You think I'm going to talk you into the ground? Tell you to love yourself so you can love others? Tell you that only you can heal the hurt? Teach you how to make yourself better? Sorry, Sam. That isn't what I do."

"No? Then what is it, exactly, that you do?"

In three strides, Daniel was across the office, both hands in Sam's hair, drawing his face in, kissing him. His tongue was hot and swift, pressing into Sam's mouth, like he was mapping it out, licking into places Sam had never thought of as erotic before but that were suddenly sending out fiery sparks of arousal throughout his entire body.

When he released Sam, his face was flushed, his body thrumming with desire. "What I do Sam is help you realize that your body is sacred, that it is beautiful, that nothing it desires, nothing that makes it happy can ever be wrong, no matter what the world outside our doors may tell you."

Daniel moved back a step and Sam followed unconsciously, blinking a little and trying to center himself. "I…no…that can't be true." Sam said it softly, the image of Dean filling his mind. He tried to push it away, only to find that he couldn't.

"Is he the one who hurt you?" Daniel asked as if he could see Dean too.

"He…is…I…" Sam was dangerously close to telling this man everything and he couldn't figure out why. "My…first."

Daniel's hand caressed over Sam's cheek. "Yes, the one's we love most…oh…" Daniel's mouth was on his again and Sam felt his knees buckling, both of them sinking into the plush carpet. "You are a very special young man, Sam Winchester."

"My name…" Sam swallowed and tried to clear his head. "How do you know my name?"

"I see you Sam. I see you for who you are, and you are beautiful." Daniel's breath was moist on the skin of his face, or maybe his face was moist. "This is beautiful." Daniel's hand was on his cock, hot through the thin fabric of the pants. "Your love for him is beautiful."

His lips touched Sam's face, soothed over tears he was only vaguely aware he was crying. "Please…"

"I see what you want, Sam. I can give you what you want."

"How?" Sam swallowed, blinked.

"Close your eyes. Breathe with me. Listen to my voice." Sam's eyes closed almost as if he was no longer controlling them, his breathing falling into rhythm with Daniel's. "Good. Now show me Sam. Show me."

Sam's mind filled with Dean…the way he looked that night, body glistening with wet from the shower, the smell of his arousal, the feel of his hands, the sound of his voice all husky with need. "That's it Sam."

Dean's hands slid over his arms, Dean's cock hard against his skin. "Sam."

Suddenly Daniel's voice wasn't Daniel's voice and when Sam blinked, opening his eyes, Daniel wasn't Daniel, he was Dean. "What…I…" He swallowed and tried to look away, but his hand was on Sam's face, caressing him. Dean's lips parted, Dean's eyes looked at him with love that was burning Sam's skin. Hands pulled on the tunic until it was up and off and Sam was only wearing the thin white pants.

"Dean?"

"I am who you need me to be, Sam." His kisses slipped over Sam's face, and Sam's lips parted easily, his eyes fluttering closed as Dean leaned into him, his hand on Sam's cock. "Let me love you Sammy."

Sam whimpered as hands dragged his pants away, as Dean’s body covered his, naked skin to naked skin. They rolled until Dean was under him, holding their cocks together. "Need you Sammy, need you. Love you."

Sam knew on some level that this wasn't real. This wasn't Dean, but his body couldn't tell the difference and as they rolled again, Sam's legs spread wide and Dean was there, fingers pressing into him, working him open, easing into him.

"Dean…god, Dean…" Sam's hands tightened on his arms, holding him as his cock thrust into him. It hurt like before, all burn and full and then sparks as the cock that wasn't his brother's pressed in on some spot inside him that had him gasping and squeezing and coming heavy against his stomach.

Prostate, his brain supplied as he opened his eyes. Daniel still looked like Dean, still smelled like Dean, still fucked into Sam, faster and harder now. Sam closed his eyes, let the illusion fill him, let it be Dean inside him. His cock stirred, filled as a hand closed around it. The fullness doubled as he came, gasping and falling forward onto Sam, bellies pressed together, sticky with come.

"Is that really how you want it Sam?" Dean's voice whispered in his ear. "Is that all you want? Or do you really want me on my knees for you? Do you dream about fucking me the way I did you?"

Sam groaned, his cock fully hard again. "Dean…" He was on his knees, bending over, his hand on Sam's cock, pulling him in.

"Do it Sam…show me what you really need…"

The pictures in his mind all shifted around until Dean was the one moaning with Sam's cock inside him. He let the hand on his cock guide him, suddenly sinking into tight heat, shuddering as he nearly came in just one thrust. Dean pushed back at him, his voice husky and dark as he begged for more, for deeper, for harder…and Sam obliged, shifting his hands to hold slender hips, lifting up for better angle, and coming with a strangled cry before falling to the floor, panting.

 

 

 

Dean leaned back against the Impala and swallowed the last of the beer in the last bottle. It was freaking hot and he was sweating like crazy in the late Nevada sun. It was the middle of July and everything around him shimmered in the heat.

He had finished up the haunting his father had sent him to handle and since he was in the neighborhood, he had stopped. This was the last place Dean knew without a doubt his brother had been. The letter had been postmarked from this small town in the middle of nowhere.

It had been more than two years.

They'd hunted for him at first. Backtracked the bus that had likely brought him to this nowhere town, followed it to Reno, but there was no convincing evidence Sam had gone to Reno. No one remembered seeing him. None of his aliases popped up anywhere.

It was as though his little brother had just dropped off the map. Checked out of the world.

Not that Dean could blame him, not after what had happened between them. In fact, he was nearly surprised Sam waited so long. It had been Dean's fault after all. Dean was the one who picked up the damn idol. Dean was the one who threw it at Sam, knowing he'd catch it. Dean was the one who had ended up fucking Sam. His brother. Who he was supposed to protect.

They might have gotten past it, at least Sam didn't seem to hate him, kept telling him he was fine with it, but Dean…he couldn't stop thinking about it. Couldn't stop reliving the moment when he touched Sam, when his cock sank into the dark heat of his brother.

Worse than that, he couldn't stop wanting more. Every time he saw his brother he got hard. Every time he heard Sam's voice, his cock twitched. Every single time. Sam obviously saw it, despite Dean's attempt to hide it. Sam saw and was disgusted and decided to leave to spare Dean the embarrassment.

Their father had been furious when he found out that Sam had lied to him. Sure, he'd hung out for graduation, but then he traded in the bus ticket that would have taken him to Bobby's for one that ended in Reno. John Winchester had stormed through the state of Nevada after the letter turned up at Bobby's, questioning anyone and everyone about his wayward son.

Sam covered his tracks well though, and he could have gotten off at any of a dozen towns along the way, could have gotten on another bus in Reno, hell, with his skills, could have stolen a car or hitched a ride or pretty much anything he'd wanted.

Their father had given up looking. Decided that if Sam wanted out that bad, fine. Dean still kept his eyes open. And when he was in the neighborhood, he ended up here. Not that he actually expected to find his brother, but he felt somehow like he was closer to him when he was here.

Still, his father would be expecting Dean to meet up with him soon. He half expected a call before now. So, when his phone rang, Dean didn't even look at the caller ID, just grabbed the phone off the seat of the car and flipped it open. "Hello."

"Dean?"

Dean froze. He cleared his throat. Shook his head. He was hearing things. "Yeah?"

"Dude, I had to call Bobby to get your number."

Dean opened the door to the car, frowning fiercely. His body was tense, his pulse racing. "Who is this?" He sounded angry. He wasn't sure he wanted to sound angry.

"Come on, I know you're pissed at me, but seriously?"

Dean sat down, bumping his head a little on the roof of the car, his cock twitching in his jeans. "Sammy?"

There was nervous laughter on the other end. "Yeah. It's me."

Dean shook his head. "What the hell? Where the fuck are you?" There was so much more to ask, but Dean was stuck on where, because he had to get there, wherever there was. He started the car and slammed the door shut. "I mean it Sam. Where are you?"

"California. Palo Alto." Sam sounded nervous, maybe even scared. "I…um, got into Stanford."

California, Dean could be there in twelve hours. Maybe less. "Stanford?" White noise thundered through his brain as he started driving. "College? You left for that?"

"Dean…I don't want to fight. I just…wanted to hear your voice."

"Not fighting, Sammy. Fuck. Just…need to see you."

"Yeah…okay. I'm staying at this place in San Francisco for the summer. Just you though, okay? I'm not ready to face Dad."

Dean could understand that. Their father was going to flip. "Just me. I'm on my way. I'll be there tomorrow."

"Call this number when you get close, I'll give you an address." Sam hesitated a moment. "I've missed you."

Dean couldn't breathe for a minute. "Yeah, Sam. Me too."

"So, I'll see you tomorrow then."

Dean hung up the phone and dropped it on the seat next to him. All this time, Sam had been in California. In one place. In school. He left them for the normal life he'd always said he wanted. Somehow that was something Dean had never actually considered.

He was only an hour outside of Reno when his phone rang and this time he looked at the display. Shit. His father. "Hey, Dad."

"Where are you?"

Always to the point. And Dean knew there was no point in lying. "Almost to Reno."

His father sighed, sound exasperated. "Dean--"

"Not for that." Dean shook his head and changed lanes to get around a slow truck. "I got a line on something in California. Thought I'd check it out since I hadn't heard from you."

"What kind of something?"

"Nothing I can't handle."

He half expected his father to argue. Half expected him to tell Dean to hold up in Reno and wait for him. "You sure?" John asked instead, sounding tired.

"Yeah, I got this."

"Okay, I'm heading to Pastor Jim's for a few days. Call me when you're done."

"Will do." Dean hung up and refocused his attention on the road. Sam was waiting.

 

 

Dean never had been a big fan of big cities, and San Francisco was no exception. Too many people, too many big buildings, too many one way streets. It took him a while to find the place, and then he sat in front of it squinting up at it, pretty sure that he'd written down the address wrong.

The sign above the door said "Temple of Liberation" and two guys moving up the steps into the place wore long white tunics over gauzy white pants, looking very…new-agey.

Dean was just about to pick up his phone to call Sam for the right address when Sam came bounding down the steps, smile as big as Texas. Dean got out of the car, meeting him on the sidewalk and letting Sam wrap huge arms around him. "You made it." Sam was beaming, undeniably pleased, happy even. He looked good, trim in nice fitting jeans and a button down shirt.

Dean thumped his back and pulled back before his reaction to seeing Sam became obvious and Sam remembered why he left in the first place. "You hungry?" Sam asked.

"I could eat."

Sam gestured with his head down the street. "There's a great diner down here."

"So…college?" Dean asked when the silence had stretched out between them.

"Pre-law." Sam said with a grin as he held open the door to Mel's Diner. "Full scholarship."

Dean shook his head as they sat. "I have to say, I thought about lots of reasons for you to have booked, but that wasn't one of them."

Sam's grin faded and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Can we…save that for later, and just…"

Dean nodded, grabbing a menu. "Okay, so next subject. Temple of Liberation? What the hell kind of place is that?"

Sam laughed and leaned back in the seat. "It's not what it sounds like." Sam insisted, but he was cut off from saying more by the approach of a waitress. "Hey Sheila."

She smiled brightly. "Hi Sam. Wasn't expecting you today."

"This is my brother Dean. He just got into town."

Sheila was all bright blue eyes as she turned from Sam to Dean. "So, you're the infamous Dean Winchester. I was beginning to believe you were just a figment in our Sam's head."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Real as rain, Sheila. I'll have a cheeseburger."

She smiled, her eyes scanning over him. "Oh, I've got just what you want, Dean."

"Okay, down Sheila." Sam said with a chuckle. "I don't know he's ready for you just yet. How about just a couple of the specials?"

She pouted slightly, but took their menus with a nod. "You got it, Sam."

"Dude, cock-block much?"

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "Don't worry. There will be plenty for you to get it up for before the day is over, Dean."

Dean frowned, but not directly at his brother. Looking at his brother was making him crazy with want. "Okay, what about this temple?" Dean asked instead, sliding back to lean in the corner of the booth.

Sam sighed and nodded. "I'm just helping out a friend. Beside, Jessica's place is being painted and she went back east to see friends and---What?"

Dean hadn't realized he was staring and shook his head. "Jessica?"

Sam closed his eyes. "I forgot. Seeing you again makes it feel like you've been here all along, Dean. Jessica…she's…a good friend. I live with her during the school year."

"You're living with some chick?"

Sam's smile looked a little bit strained. "She's not some chick, Dean. She's a friend. Helped me out a lot. She's a psych major, and she has her own apartment just off campus. Her room mate left just before I got here, and I took over his room."

"So you're living with her not living with her." Dean said, watching Sam swallow down his frustration.

"If you're asking if I have sex with her, the answer is yes. Sometimes I do."

Dean sat up as Sheila dropped off their food, winking at Sam. "And sometimes he has sex with me too."

Sam grinned at her and shooed her away. Dean looked at his plate, then up at Sam and turned to watch Sheila's retreating ass. "You and her?"

"Things are different for me Dean." Sam said quietly, picking up his burger. "You'll see."

Dean picked up his burger and took a bite, his mouth suddenly filled with the most perfect taste of greasy old-fashioned hamburger. "Oh my god." Dean mumbled around the mouthful of bread and burger and cheese.

"Good, right?" Sam asked, laughing.

Dean watched him swallow and had to look away. He was going to hell. He was so going to hell. He'd hoped two years away would have softened his perverse desire a little, but it hadn't. If anything it was sharper.

"Okay, temple?" Somehow they kept getting dragged off topic.

"Right, so with Jessica out of town and the apartment under drop cloths and stuff, Daniel asked if I wouldn't mind staying up here and helping out with a few…little problems he has."

"Daniel? Problems?" Dean stuffed fries into his face so he wouldn't have to look up or anything else that might betray the way he was feeling.

"Daniel…he's a friend. He runs the place. And, just your average problems. The kind that um…might need…salt and holy water to deal with." Sam picked up his milkshake and stuck the straw in his mouth.

Dean swallowed at the same time Sam did. He blinked as Sam's words sunk in. "So, it's haunted?"

Sam shrugged. "So far I haven't found any signs. But, I'm staying there for a few weeks, so I should."

"History of the place?"

"Well, it's been a number of different things, a convent was on the site back before the big quake, but that was destroyed. Then there was a series of stores, and there was a big fire back about fifteen years ago. Then a Buddhist temple was built there, but the monks didn't stay. I'm not sure how Daniel came to have the building."

"Any deaths?" This was easier, focusing on the job. His cock even softened a little, as long as he didn't look at Sam, or smell Sam or god forbid, touch Sam.

"None that I can find."

Dean realized they'd gotten off the topic of what exactly the temple was yet again. "So what kind of activity?"

"Daniel said that some of the…students heard a woman's voice crying in one of the corridors, and things disappear from the rooms on that level. One of the visitors a week ago got shoved down a flight of stairs and broke her leg, but the witnesses all say that no one was there."

"Sounds pretty standard."

He could see Sam nod. "This why you called me after two years?"

Sam put his hamburger down. "No. I meant what I said. I missed you. I really just wanted to hear your voice."

"Dude, girly much?" Dean said reflexively, hoping it hid the way he flushed with need, the way his heart stopped beating and his lungs stopped working for just one second. "Who's this Daniel guy?"

Sam stretched out his legs under the table, on either side of Dean. "He's…a counselor of sorts, I guess. He helps people."

"With what? Liberation?" Dean asked with a snort, pushing his plate away as he finished the last French fry.

"You can joke all you want. But I've seen him work miracles with people. Jess introduced me a while back. He helped her overcome some serious shit."

"You know I don't get off on all that new-age, touchy-feely bullshit." Dean said, thinking that Sam always had been a little too gullible for his own good.

"Me either Dean. This isn't bullshit. This is the real deal. He takes people with serious problems and gives them the time and the space they need to deal and heal. Pretty basic psychology, really, just applied in a very real way."

Something in the way Sam talked about it made Dean look up, fear wrenching in his stomach. "Sam?" Sam was trying to tell him that he had needed that kind of help. Of course he did. His brother fucked him. It was practically rape. No, scratch that. It was rape. Dean had raped his brother…and Sam had run away.

Sam had run away and needed some stranger to give him the time and the space to deal and heal, whatever the hell that meant.

Sam's hand fell over his and Dean nearly jumped out of the seat. "It's okay Dean. I'm okay." Sam stood and dropped some money on the table, waving to Sheila. "I mean it this time. I'm really okay."

Chapter Text

 

 

Sam was half way to the door before Dean managed to get out of the booth and follow him. "Okay, Sam. If…I don't know. I just…as long as you're happy I guess."

He smiled that brilliant Sammy smile and clapped a giant hand on Dean's shoulder. "I am Dean. I'm so incredibly happy."

"Good." They stopped between the Impala and the stairs leading in to the temple. "So, you want some help with this ghost thing?" Dean leaned back against the car, squinting up at the building.

Sam crossed his arms and shook his head. "I'm not even convinced it is a ghost yet."

"Well, two heads are better than one, Sammy. Just let me get some gear." He moved to the trunk and Sam caught his arm. The heat of the touch burned into him, straight to his dick. He yanked the arm away before he realized that he was doing it. "The hell?"

"Dean…seriously. It's okay. Whatever it is, I'm sure I can manage. You don't have to."

"I didn't come all the way to California for a hamburger Sam. I'm here, let me help." He popped the trunk and frowned at his brother. "It's almost like you don't want me in there. Hiding something?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "No, of course not. It's just…you'll have to dress like we do to go inside."

Dean shoved some rock salt into a bag alongside his gun. "I gotta wear some freaking dress?"

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "No, just a tunic and pants, but you can't bring the gun."

Dean dropped the bag in the trunk. "No gun, and I gotta wear some freaking tunic?"

"You don't have to do anything, Dean. Seriously."

"Hey Sam!" Sam turned toward the doors. "You know you're late?"

Sam held up a hand at the man leaning out the temple doors. "Yeah, tell them I'm coming." Sam turned back, his face showing something other than the plain happiness of earlier, but it was fleeting, buried under another smile. "I really should get back inside. We—I have a class and…"

Dean's eyes flicked over Sam, then up to the temple and back again. "I'm coming with you." Dean closed the trunk as Sam started to argue. "You're going to show me this place, and we're going to find us this ghost. I'm not leaving until I know everything is good."

Because he had the sneaking suspicion that something wasn't.

Dean followed Sam up the stairs and into a long hall. "You can change there." Sam pointed at a curtained off space. Beside it were stacks of white clothes. Sam fished through it until he found one and thrust it at Dean. "This should fit."

Dean watched Sam disappear into one of the curtained off closets and held up the tunic, shaking his head. There were no sleeves on the damn thing.

What the fuck kind of place was this that made everyone wear pajamas? What had his brother gotten himself into?

Dean pulled off his boots and eased out of his jeans and shrugged out of his layers of shirts. There were no mirrors, just three flimsy walls and the curtain. He pulled the tunic on over his head, and fumbled with the gauzy material of the pants. He got them on and opened the curtain. "I feel like I'm freaking naked."

Sam laughed and took his clothes, stuffing them into a cubicle. Dean reached for his jeans, but Sam blocked him. "Dude, my phone."

"No phones. Not allowed. It's okay. You won't need it."

"No gun, no phone and where the fuck are the sleeves on this thing?" He looked at Sam and his amused face. "You have sleeves."

"You're wearing a visitor's tunic Dean." Sam headed toward the door with Dean following, pulling on the clothes, trying to make them…well, something else entirely. "I'm really running late."

They emerged into a courtyard with a fountain and the smell of flowers. Two women emerged from another set of doors, arm in arm, smiling. They stopped, each kissing Sam like he was their lover, then smiling at Dean.

"Dude, who are they?"

"Karen and Chelsea." Sam said, taking Dean's hand and tugging him toward a set of doors. Dean had an image of Sam's hand in other places, touching him, and pulled away.

"Yeah? You fucking them too?"

Sam just laughed and pushed open the doors. "Not everything is about sex."

"So you say now, when you're fucking four different women." Dean grabbed his shoulder. "Dude, are you some kind of man-whore?"

"What?" Sam snorted at him and kept walking. "No, I'm not…I…look, I have to go in and lead this class. Are you going to behave?"

"Lead this class?" Dean was beginning to think his brother wasn't telling him the whole truth.

"It's just for an hour or so, then we can go to my room and I'll show you the information I have."

"Right. About the haunting." Sam smiled and Dean could feel it in his stomach. It was a pull that made him want to kiss Sam, hold him.

Sam pushed open a door into a room where men and women were all sitting around on mats. Most of them wore the sleeveless tunics, all of them in the white.

"Okay, Dean, why don't you sit…" One of the guys with sleeves on his tunic got up off his mat and Sam sort of gestured vaguely. "There's good. You don't have to…participate or anything…just don't interrupt."

Like Dean was going to get involved in any of this…whatever the fuck this was.

He settled onto his mat and watched Sam step up to the center of the room. "Sorry I'm late everyone. Shall we get started? Let's begin with grounding and centering. Everyone sit up straight, close your eyes and breathe in deep."

Dean watched them all do exactly that, breathing in and holding it until Sam told them to exhale. He let his eyes wander the room. There were definitely some hot chicks in the room. That blonde on the end in particular.

Dean felt eyes and looked up to find Sam watching him as he spoke. Dean turned his eyes from the girl and focused on Sam instead, but that only made him harder than he already was, and damn, in these clothes it was getting hard to hide.

"Everyone pick a partner, preferably someone you haven't worked with before." Dean watched as everyone in the room stood up and sought out a partner. The pairs ended up primarily paired off with male/female partnerships, but there were at least three female/female couples he could see and several male/male ones. "For this exercise there is no physical touching. We will be exploring our partners without our hands, learning how the touch of eyes and breath affect us, learning to read the subtle cues."

Sam hooked a thumb in his neckline and pulled his tunic up and off, tossing it in the direction of the door. Dean's eyes were drawn instantly to the toned muscle, broad shoulders, defined abs and arms…dude, when did Sammy get arms like that? His baby brother definitely wasn't a baby anymore. Dean found it hard to swallow around the lump of need in his throat, harder still to tear his eyes away.

At least until everyone else in the room followed Sam's lead and pulled off their tops. The woman closest to him, a red head with a rack he'd love to bury himself in, smiled at him as she dropped her tunic near his feet, then turned back to her partner. That hard on problem was only getting harder. Although, he wasn't the only one. It was becoming obvious at least a few of the guys in the room were having the same problem as they adjusted themselves.

Sam was talking, passing through the room and adjusting the positions of various people, but Dean couldn't make out what he was saying…there was too much naked flesh in the room. Not the least of which was that long column of Sam's back. He felt Dean's eyes and turned his way, smiling.

Dean bit back the groan just before it would have escaped. The last thing he needed was for this whole room of people to know just how fucked up he was. He dragged in a breath and stepped back, away from the heat of the other bodies, and maybe it was just him, but damn the room was getting awfully hot.

Sam's voice fell into an almost hypnotic rhythm. The men and women in the room were taking turns staring and breathing and it looked insane. And hot. Then, Sam was in the center of the room and dragging his pants off.

Sam was there, in the middle of the room. Naked. Dean's hand went to his cock involuntarily, holding it as the whole room started to follow suit. "We're going to be switching partners now. If you are with a woman, you need to partner with a man. If you're with a man, I need you to partner with a woman."

There was some murmuring and a few uncomfortable looks, but no one argued as they shifted around until only two women near the middle of the room didn't have partners. Sam stepped in beside one of them, his eyes scanning the room. They fell on Dean, who shivered as he felt the question in them. Sam didn't have to ask, Dean glanced at the girl who didn't have a partner and could feel her embarrassment at being the only one, could almost feel the pleading.

"Fuck it." Dean murmured, pulling at his tunic and dropping it in the corner. He stalked over to where Sam stood smiling at him.

Sam's eyes tracked down Dean's torso and damn but that felt dirty. His eyes stopped at Dean's crotch, then darted back to his eyes, an eyebrow lifting in question. Dean shook his head minutely. He was not taking his pants off.

Sam went back to talking, leaving Dean standing there, nearly in the center of the room with some girl he didn't know, the only one in the room wearing anything at all. He grumbled to himself and tugged them down, leaving them in a puddle under his feet as the girl's bright brown eyes found his, her smile tentative. "It's okay, I'm new at this too," she whispered. She glanced around at the others, and lifted her hand to mimic what the others were doing.

It ghosted over his skin, not even an inch between the skin of her palm and the flesh of his chest. It gave him goosebumps. He looked around him, even though he supposed he should be focusing on her. Sam's cock was hard. So were a lot of the other cocks in the room.

Dean was fairly certain that should be disturbing. Warm air glided over his nipples, pulling his attention back to the girl in front of him. She smiled and licked her lips, her tongue only just missing his skin. And yes, that was enough to make him stop thinking about his brother's dick for a few minutes. In fact, the touch of her breath was almost enough to have him humping the air as she focused her attention over his navel.

Sam chuckled somewhere nearby. "Very good. We will continue these techniques next class. Remember to drink plenty of water, and work off that energy in constructive ways." He laughed, but Dean was fully occupied with the girl who was touching him now, hands drawing his face to hers and suddenly his mouth was filled with her tongue, her naked body sliding against his.

He was vaguely aware that all around him other couples were engaged in similar activity, but then her hand was on his cock and stroking and holy fuck! He yanked back, grabbing at his pants to cover himself.

She frowned at him. "Did I…do something…"

Dean sputtered for a minute, shaking his head. His cock was thinking she didn't do enough, but they were in public, in front of at least twenty people.

"I don't…" He looked around them and sort of shrugged. She giggled, leaning down to get her own clothes.

"Oh, you really are new. It's okay, I get it. Maybe another time then." She shimmied into her tunic and set off in search of someone else to work off her energy with.

Sam thrust a bottle of water into his hand. "Drink. And put your pants on."

He was entirely too amused with this whole situation, Dean decided. He smacked his brother on the shoulder once he got into his pants. Somehow Sam was already dressed. Dean crossed to where he'd dropped the tunic, scooping it up while Sam spoke quietly with students. Dean was pulling on his shirt when he realized Sam was making out with a guy.

A guy in a long sleeved tunic. Like Sam's. Making out. With tongues. Dean's cock twitched and his stomach lurched with jealousy. Which was stupid. He looked away, breathing through the emotion. Suddenly though, he was toe to toe with a guy who looked a lot like Sam, broad shoulders and a mop of dark blond hair and startling blue eyes. Those eyes pinned him to the spot and he couldn't think or fight or react as the guy kissed him. Really kissed him. His tongue didn't request entrance to his mouth as much as it demanded it, a hand holding the back of Dean's head.

He ended the kiss before Dean could get himself to react, smiling into Dean's face. "You are beautiful."

"Um…thanks?" Dean fidgeted, trying to look around him for Sam.

"I was wondering…if you wanted to go someplace a little more private?"

"You know…" Dean scratched at his head and tried to figure out what to say.

"Ethan?" Sam's hand was on the big guy's shoulder.

"Hey Sam. Awesome class."

Sam grinned and nodded to Dean. "Thanks. Why don't you and Marcus go deal with your needs, Dean here is with me today. He's new and I'm showing him around."

"Oh, yeah. Awesome. Great to meet you Dean." Ethan kissed him again, a lot lighter and quicker, but Dean was just as motionless until he was gone.

Sam chuckled and clapped his big hand to Dean's back. "You okay?"

"What? Yeah…Um…yeah. Sure. I guess."

"Which means really no." Sam said, guiding him to the door. "Don't worry, Ethan's a talker, he'll make sure everyone knows you're off limits for the moment."

"Because he thinks I'm with you?" Sam just laughed and headed down the hallway. "What if they find out who I really am?"

"What? That you're my brother?" Sam asked, heading down a flight of stairs.

"Sam!" Dean hissed, jogging a little to catch up to him.

Sam opened a door and held it. Dean went through it, into a small room with a bed that didn't look big enough for Sam and a small table next to it and not much else. It felt crowded as soon as Sam came in and closed the door. "No one here is going to care very much, Dean."

He bent over the table and opened a small drawer, pulling out a very thin file folder. "This is all I have."

"Wait." Dean took the folder, but didn't open it. "You're telling me that you're okay with these people thinking that you're in here with your brother?"

"Well, I am in here with my brother." Sam said, dropping onto the bed. Dean stood at the end of the bed, just holding on to the folder and staring at his brother.

Dean watched him reach down, adjusting his cock through the thin pants. He was painfully aware that he was still hard, of the fact that Sam knew Dean was looking at his cock, and that Sam was waiting for him to say something.

The only problem was the only thing he could think of to say would only lead to bad places. He really didn't want to fight with Sam, not now, not when he finally had him back. And, what he really wanted with Sam he knew he couldn't have, even if Sam seemed to be hinting that he could. Dean scrubbed at his face. "Sam…I…what exactly are we doing?"

Sam didn't move, his stare holding Dean immobile. "I thought we were going to hunt a ghost." Sam's voice was calm, even.

Dean couldn't look up at him. "There isn't any ghost." He wasn't sure, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Sam had only used the notion of a ghost to get him there. And he was there now. "You wanted me here. I'm here. So…if this is where you tell me you hate me or blame me…shit, Sam." Dean looked up at him. "This is my fault. You're here because of me."

For a long time Dean didn't think Sam was going to say anything, then he sat up, turning his eyes to the wall. "Yes. Actually. I am."

Fuck. Dean had to find some way to make this better, because Sam didn't belong here, not like this.

"Before you say anything, let me…" Sam sighed and folded his hands in his lap. "I left because of what happened Dean. And that, was your fault. You're the one who picked up that idol. You're the one who threw it at me."

Sam was quiet again. Dean put the folder down on the end of the bed and thought that Sam really didn't have to say anything else. Dean had fucked him. Dean had continued to want to fuck him. Dean was fucked up and Sam hated him for it. Dean was wrong in the head and it drove Sam away, drove Sam to this.

"My god Dean. Is that all you think about?" Sam asked suddenly, standing and filling the small room. Dean cringed back.

"What?"

Sam rubbed his face. "It isn't all about you, you know? Fuck. I didn't expect this to be this hard." He turned to face Dean. "I wanted you. I wanted you so bad it hurt. I jacked off two, three times a day with your face, your body in my head, Dean."

Dean involuntarily stepped toward Sam, his body thrumming with need.

"I left because I thought you would hate me if you knew."

"Sam…I…" Sam was crying. Fuck and shit and damn. Sam's big hand lifted between them, cupping Dean's cheek, drawing him closer. He was there, right the fuck there, his breath ghosting over Dean's lips and it made his whole body tighten, expand, his cock all but ready to cream the inside of his gauzy pants. "Shit."

"I know what you want, Dean." Sam said so softly, Dean wasn't sure he really heard him. "I want you to know that it's okay. Here, in this place, it's okay."

Sam's lips brushed his and for just a minute, Dean didn't think, didn't breathe. Slowly Sam's words trickled into his brain and Dean closed his eyes, forced himself to step back, shaking his head. "No, Sam it isn't."

Fuck. He was hurting with the need to give in, to let himself believe Sam was right, that this was okay, that what he wanted, what he fucking needed, wasn't a sick and twisted thing that would send them both straight to hell.

"Sam." Dean turned away as Sam reached for him. "I can't."

His hand found its way to Dean's back, hot, tender. It seemed to echo the words. "It's okay. It's okay." Dean shook his head. Clearly this was worse than he'd imagined all this time. This had to still be the work of the idol. They had underestimated its affects. The fucking they'd already done had only addressed the immediate need, but somehow they were still connected, his body's desires matched in Sam's body.

"It doesn't matter why, Dean." Sam said, moving closer again. "It isn't important. I love you."

Dean wanted to melt into that touch, but his stomach churned. Sam didn't love him; it was just the fucking idol. He lurched forward, out of Sam's reach, his hand on the doorknob. "I can't. I can't."

"I can." Sam responded softly. Dean could feel him moving again, the room stifling, the heat pouring off of Sam too intense.

"I need some air." Dean wrenched the door open and stormed out, just hoping he could find his way out of the place again. He hadn't really been paying much attention on the way in.

He found himself in the courtyard with the fountain. The night was cool, and the air felt good on his skin. The sky was filled with stars and he stopped when his feet sank into the cool grass, sagging a little now that he was away from Sam. Things were so much worse than he'd imagined.

Sam had implied he came here for help, that this guy…Daniel had made him better. But Sam wasn't better. He was…delusional. That was the only explanation for Sam thinking that two brothers wanting to do those things to one another could ever be okay.

"You must Dean."

Dean whirled, surprised that anyone could sneak up on him like that. The guy was not what he expected. He was young for starters. Somehow Dean had pictured someone his father's age. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was not about to bring that image into this particular situation. "And you are?"

The guy smiled and Dean could actually feel himself relax, which was odd, when he considered that this was anything but relaxing. "I'm Daniel. Your brother's told me a lot about you."

Great. "Is that right. He's told me almost nothing about you."

Daniel smiled again and stepped a little closer. "He's worried about you."

"Me?" Dean frowned, stepping back. This was the guy who had done whatever it was he'd done to Sam, turned him into…the new-agey man whore. Dean needed to figure him out. "I'm worried about him. This isn't like him."

"Perhaps you don't know your brother as well as you think you do, Dean." Daniel looked him over. "I certainly can see why he feels like he does."

Dean suddenly felt very dirty as Daniel's eyes dragged over him. Dirty and naked, like the clothes didn't really matter with Daniel, like he could see right past them anyway. Dean groaned as he parsed through the words. Sam had told this guy about him. About wanting him. That was maybe worse than knowing himself somehow.

"No offense, Daniel, but I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Perhaps not. Sam is a good man. I hope you can see that."

"Sam is my brother." Dean said forcefully, though even to his own ears it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than this stranger.

"Yes, and you want him in a way that society has taught you is wrong."

Dean scowled at him. "You don't know what I want."

Daniel's hand reached out and touched his shoulder, down to his bare arm. His smile was disconcertingly pleasant and Dean felt his own face relaxing out of his scowl. "I mean, we only just met."

"Why don't you tell me then?" Daniel said, moving to sit in the grass.

Dean was pretty sure he didn't want to do that, and yet, he sat down beside Daniel, looking up at the sky. "It's not that you're wrong, exactly. I mean…it is wrong, isn't it? To want to…do things with your brother?"

Daniel didn't look at him, just leaned back on his elbows. "In some societies it is the older brother's sacred duty to initiate his younger siblings in the ways of sex. In others, it is practice to marry sisters and cousins to keep the family's power intact. It is not always forbidden."

Dean shivered and considered that. "We live here, and the rules say you can't have sex with brothers, or sisters or mothers or fathers."

"Rules are for the weak minded." Daniel said, his voice pleasant. "Or perhaps this has more to do with the idea that he is a man and less to do with the fact that he is your brother?" He turned so that he was looking at Dean, his head leaning on one hand. "You don't consider yourself gay, do you?"

"What? No." Dean sat forward, his stomach tightening, his body going rigid around a memory he'd spent ten years suppressing. "No, I'm not."

"And yet, you desire Sam." Daniel's voice was neutral, no accusation to the sound. "Could it be there is something you are not admitting to yourself?"

His hand touched Dean's arm, slid down until it was holding Dean's hand. Memory crashed through him. He was fourteen again, at the high school in Minnesota. He'd tried out for the football team even though his father had told him not to, forged the permission slip and when John was off on his hunt, Dean had taken Sam with him to the school. Sam sat on the sidelines with the coach's wife and daughter while they played, and followed him into the locker room when the game was over. Dean didn't bother to shower, but by the time he'd settled Sam in on the bench nearest his locker and fought his way out of the stained up uniform and pads, the rest of the team was gone.

Dean pulled away from Daniel, trying to shove the memory away. "Don't fight it Dean." Daniel said softly. "Let it come. You'll never be free of it if you keep it inside."

He should be concerned that Daniel knew what he was thinking, that Daniel was touching him, soft hands moving to hold his hands, body moving too close, almost touching. His face was hot, the memory bursting out of the closet he'd kept it hidden in all these years.

"Winchester, got a minute?"

Dean looked up to see the coach at the door to his office. "Now, coach? I need to get my brother home."

"It'll only take a minute."

Shit. He must have figured out that Dean had faked the permission slip. "Yeah, okay. Sammy just wait here. I'll be out in a minute." Dean followed the coach into the office, swallowing hard when the coach closed the door. "Look, coach…if this is about the permission slip, I can explain."

The coach crossed his arms and leaned against his desk. He didn't say anything, just looked at Dean. "My father…he meant to sign it, but he had to go to work and he forgot." Dean shifted his weight nervously.

The coach grabbed at him suddenly, dragging Dean forward and shoving him down over the desk. "You lie to your daddy like that, boy?"

Dean's heart thundered as he pressed sweaty palms to the desk under him, trying to push himself up out of the awkward position. "No, sir…I…" The hand on the back of his neck was brutal, pinching under and behind his ears. His other hand was on Dean's ass, slapping him several times before Dean felt his sweats being yanked down.

He bucked up, but the coach was bigger, stronger and he pinned Dean down, his body rubbing over Dean, a finger finding Dean's asshole and pressing in. "I'd think twice about yelling, boy." Coach pressed in, had to be more fingers, too full, too much. "Bring your brother in here and I'll have to hurt you both."

Dean bit down on his lip. The fingers were gone and he tried again to buck up, but something bigger was there, something that scared him more. "No…please…don't…"

There was no escape though and Dean's eyes swam with tears as Coach shoved his cock into him. He wanted to scream, to thrash, but Sammy was out there, and Sammy couldn't ever know. Dean's fingers scrambled against the desk, trying to hold on to something, anything.

Coach grunted, held him down and something warm and wet flooded him. Dean slid to his knees when he was released, moving a shaking hand to wipe his eyes. Coach moved to sit in his chair, shuffling through papers like he hadn't just…Dean shook his head and pulled himself up off the floor.

"Best get that brother home." Coach said. "You mind your manners, get to practice on time. I'll overlook the whole permission slip thing."

Dean couldn't speak, just slipping out of the office door, calling for Sam.

Daniel's arms were around him, holding him. His voice made soft sounds Dean couldn't quite make out as words. He tried to pull back, but didn't really seem to move. Daniel's kiss was soft, easy and Dean found himself falling into it, his mouth opening. His face was wet when they separated, Dean's breath coming in short gasps as he started to realize where he was again.

"That isn't the same thing you did to Sam." Daniel said, his hand still on Dean's face.

This time Dean did pull away. "Yes, it is." He was angry with himself, his arms folded around his stomach as if he could stop the way his mind was crashing from that memory into what he'd done to Sam.

The need was intense, his cock so hard even after he'd jacked off over and over again. It hurt to touch, it hurt to move, and all he could think about was Sam. "It's my fault. I did it."

Daniel's lips pressed to his cheek, sliding back to his lips. "That isn't the story Sam tells."

"Sam…" Dean swallowed and looked away, getting up off the grass. "Sam should never have…I hurt him."

Daniel was behind him, arms sliding around his waist as though they were lovers, intimate, familiar. Kisses trailed over his shoulders before Dean was turning in his arms, his eyes sliding closed as Daniel's mouth covered his.

Dean's eyes opened, blinked when the kiss ended. "This is what you want Dean. Let me give it to you." Daniel was touching him, holding him, but Dean could nearly feel Sam, wanted Sam more with each passing moment. His cock was hard again, hard and needy like it had been that night, like it had been almost since he saw Sam again.

Dean shook his head to clear it, trying to see through the illusion, but Daniel held his face, kissed him. "I see you Dean. I see you for who you are, and you are beautiful." Daniel's breath was moist on the skin of his face as he kissed away the tears Dean didn't want to admit. "This is beautiful." Daniel's hand touched his cock, hot through the thin fabric of the pants. "Your love for him is beautiful."

He wanted to turn away from the soothing voice, from the forgiveness that was being offered, the release from the guilt that had been gnawing at his stomach for more than two years. "I don't deserve this." Dean looked down, but Daniel's fingers cupped his chin, lifted his face. Daniel's lips touched his, tongue teasing along the curve of Dean's lower lip

"I see what you want, Dean. I can give you what you want." His hands caressed over Dean's face. "Close your eyes. Breathe with me. Listen to my voice." Dean's eyes closed slowly, his breath stuttering before slowly settling in to match Daniel's slow, deep breathing.. "Good. Now show me Dean. Show me."

Dean's memory bubbled up, the moment Sam touched the idol Dean's dick had jumped, his body filled with want, the sight of him, dick hard, red…the realization that Sammy needed him, was begging him to touch him even, the way Sam's eyes closed and his words stopped and that needy sound echoed in his throat as he came over Dean's hand.

"Dean." His eyes opened and Daniel wasn't Daniel, his hands were bigger, his voice different…he was Sam somehow, kissing him, those hands sliding up under his shirt and dragging it up.

"Wait…" Dean breathed out the word as their lips separated long enough to get the shirt off.

"Let me love you." Dean swallowed and tried to look away, because this wasn't real…couldn't be real, it was an illusion. Sam's lips parted, his tongue sliding over his lower lip. Sam's eyes looked at him with love that burned through Dean's notion of right and wrong and real. Hands dropped the tunic and slid over his skin, down to his hips, fingers running under the waistband of the pants he wore.

"Sam?"

"I am who you need me to be, Dean." His kisses slipped over Dean's face, and Dean's lips parted easily, his eyes fluttering closed as Sam leaned into him, his hand on Dean's cock, sliding into his pants and dragging up over his cock. "Let me love you Dean."

Dean panted as his pants fell, as Sam's body pressed to his. "Need you Dean, need you. Love you."

It was Sam's voice, Sam's hands…it wasn't Sam. Dean let himself be guided down to his knees, to his back, the grass cool and damp against his skin. Sam covered him, laying kisses over his collarbone, down his chest, all the way down to his cock, which he licked once before engulfing it in the hot, hot heat. Dean groaned and bucked up…hands fisting in the grass, yanking and filling the air with the smell of damp earth.

Sam’s mouth worked over him and it wasn't going to take long for Dean to fall over the edge. He tried to warn him, but his orgasm ripped through him, shooting up into Sam. Hands slid over his thighs, opening him, spreading his legs open as that mouth traveled over sweaty skin, onto his thighs, tongue slipping down under Dean's balls, through his crack and Dean moaned when fingers joined it, wet, slippery, pressing into him, opening him up.

Memory surged, pain, humiliation. "Dean, love you." Sam's voice soothed, his lips traveling back to his cock, coaxing it back to hardness despite just coming moments before. "Let me show you how beautiful it can be."

There was lube and fingers, and Dean wasn’t sure where the lube came from but those long fingers stroked inside him, opening him, brushing over a spot inside that made him jump, made his cock flood to full hardness. "Sam!" He gasped out the name, his hand relinquishing the grass in his fist to grab at Sam’s arm. Fingers gave way to cock and Sam was inside him, not moving, just there, looking down into Dean's face. "Beautiful Dean. So beautiful."

His cock stroked over that place inside him, that spot that had to be his prostate and Dean's back arched, his cock twitching against his stomach. "Please…god…Sam…" And he knew it wasn't Sam, but he couldn't help the way he clung to him anyway, both hands now, gripping his hips, pulling him in, not enough, not nearly enough.

Sam’s cock filled him, his come hot and strong inside him as Sam’s hand grabbed his cock, stroking him twice to pull him back over that edge, Dean's come spilling out onto his stomach as his eyes rolled closed and he passed out.

 

Chapter Text

 

Everything was fuzzy in his brain as he rolled over, and nearly off the bed. "The fuck?" His hands landed on either side of him, defining the space. This was no motel bed. It was too small, little more than a cot. His brain scrambled to remember where he was.

It got as far as Sam and sex and stopped. His heart thundered as he sat up, remembering Sam under the stars, kisses and touches and--no. Not Sam. It was all sort of jumbled, and if he tried too hard it all slipped away into the dark.

It was someone who…looked like Sam, was helping him…but Dean couldn't remember what he was helping with, exactly. The room was small, dark. No windows, one door. Dean was naked, but there were neatly folded white clothes on the table by the bed.

Sam had called him and he…Dean frowned, the memory slipping away. He shook his head. San Francisco. That's where he was. He remembered driving into San Francisco.

Dean stood, stretching. There was a small light on the table and he turned it on, looking around the room. There was something familiar about it, like he'd seen it before. He dressed in the gauzy white pants, pulling them on with a sense of déjà vu.

He crossed to the door, half expecting to find it locked, half surprised when it wasn't. He looked up and down a long hall dotted with doors just like this one, then retreated back into the room. He needed to figure out what was going on, figure out what he should do.

He reached for the shirt on the little table, but stopped when there was a knock on the door. Dean eased the door open, gaping at Sam.

Sam. He blinked as Sam frowned at him. "Brought you breakfast, figured you'd be starving."

Dean stepped aside as Sam shouldered past him with a tray of food. "You okay?" Sam asked, setting the tray on the bed. "You look spooked."

He frowned and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Fine. Confused. A little disoriented. I--you--"

Sam laughed and clapped a mammoth hand on Dean's shoulder. "Ah, yeah…I forgot. Morning after can be rough. I was out of sorts for almost two days. Daniel is…something."

"Daniel…" Dean vaguely recalled someone called Daniel…and he'd looked like Sam, told Dean he was beautiful. He shook his head. "You…damn Sam." He yanked his brother into a hug. "I missed you."

Sam's hands slid up his sides, cupped his face. Sam's lips brushed his. "Missed you too, Dean." He was gone just as fast, leaving Dean's lips warm, his heart thumping as Sam sat on the bed. "Here, coffee." He handed up the covered cup, grinning as Dean took it. "I know how you are about it."

Dean opened the cup and inhaled the rich scent. The first swallow was amazing, the taste filling him with a warm feeling. Sam uncovered a plate filled with French toast and a cup of syrup for dipping. Dean's stomach rumbled, as if the smell of food was the catalyst it needed to tell him it was hungry. Dean perched on the end of the bed and picked up a piece of the French toast, folding it in half to dip in the syrup.

"So…how are you feeling?" Sam asked after a few minutes of silent eating had Dean somewhat sated and leaning back against the wall.

He hadn't really thought too much about it, but he let himself take inventory, vaguely surprised at the ache in his ass. Less surprising was the fact that he was incredibly horny and still a little confused. Sam was smiling at him, this dopey smile that was wrong somehow…and yet…Dean smiled back, his face warming.

Sam leaned forward, his finger brushing along Dean's lip before sliding it into his own mouth. "Syrup."

Dean could feel himself nodding, leaning. He wanted to taste the syrup, taste Sam. He licked his lips as Sam licked his and Dean wasn't sure which one of them moved, but suddenly they were kissing, tongues sliding together.

A little voice in the back of his head was telling him that this was wrong, but he was having trouble figuring out why. Sam sucked on his lower lip and sat back, dopey smile in place. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." And he was, even if he wasn't sure exactly where here was, or how he got here.

Sam stood and picked up the shirt that was on the small table. "You should put this on. Daniel said I should give you the tour, and bring you to him when you're ready for your next session with him."

"Session…" That sounded ominous, but Dean took the shirt and shrugged it on, frowning at his bare arms that stuck out of the sleeveless tunic. "Are you serious?"

Sam chuckled. "It's temporary. Come on."

There was a niggling thought that something about this just wasn't right, but Sam was already in the hallway and Dean scrambled to keep up. "These are dorms, mostly for people like you, new here. You'll meet them later, right now they're all at breakfast."

Dean frowned a little. "Why did we eat alone?"

Sam smiled at him. "I wanted some time alone with you." He shrugged as they started up a flight of stairs. "I've got a little pull, you get special treatment. Daniel wants to get you up to speed as quickly as we can."

That should bother him too, Dean's fairly sure, but he couldn't place why exactly. Sam stopped and pointed down a long hallway. "More dorms, my room’s down that way. Daniel's suite is at the end of the hall. I'll bring you there later. This is where Daniel's Alphas room."

"Alphas?"

Sam nodded. "I forget you didn't take the primer class, so yeah…the alphas are Daniel's assistants. We run classes, handle problems, stuff like that."

Sam was already moving, up another flight of stairs. "This is where we do classes, which you'll probably start tomorrow." They stopped outside one of the rooms, letting Dean watch through the window as the women inside went through something that looked like yoga, only naked.

"I like these classes." Dean grinned.

Sam took his hand and tugged him along down the hall, not letting go. Dean thought it odd, to be holding hands, but he didn't pull away either. "We don't all live here, and most everyone has lives outside of here. A lot of people here are students. Outside of here you can spot us by this." Sam turned and pointed to a blue stone on a leather cord around his wrist. "Some wear it around their neck. You'll learn what the colors mean later. Blue means an Alpha though. Daniel will give you one when you're ready."

The next few things Sam showed him were all a bit of a blur, mundane things like dining rooms and kitchen and a rec room with a pool table that's seen better days. Then they were in a long hall with alcoves around the edges, not really rooms, but each decorated in its own color, each built for comfort and luxury, and quite clearly, fucking. Several of them were occupied.

"Every fantasy, Dean. Anything." Sam's hand in his tugged him through the hall and into the next that resembled something like an emergency room, each alcove set up with medical equipment and curtains. The next would put most BDSM clubs to shame. There were more things than he could follow, his head swimming as they emerged into a half familiar hall.

"It's a lot to take in, I know…but I'm going to be here. I'm going to help you."

They stopped again outside another room. "This is where things get sticky." Sam said, grinning. "Don't interrupt." He led Dean in through a curtained doorway into a warm room. The walls were curtained, the carpet plush and filled with couples kissing.

Naked couples kissing. There were maybe ten people all together. All making out like horny teenagers.

Sam's hand in his was hot. The couple nearest them was a gorgeous blond woman and a man that looked like a linebacker. She moaned into his mouth, apparently oblivious to the rest of the room.

A bell rang and the entire room moved, shifted, changed partners, and fell back to making out. Linebacker guy lay back as a tall, skinny guy with braces kissed him. Sam pulled on his hand and led him through a series of curtains out into another room where writhing couples were doing far more than kissing. Moans and groans and the rhythmic sounds of flesh hitting flesh rose with the scent of sex and sweat. Dean's body thrummed with the energy, the desire.

"Feel that?" Sam asked softly, his eyes tracking to Dean's crotch. Dean felt himself harden. "It gets better." The next room was a group of four writhing together.

Sam led him out, into a private corridor and pressed him against the wall, his hand on Dean's cock, his mouth covering Dean's. Sam's tongue slid into him, hot and demanding and Dean felt light headed as Sam stroked him almost to the point of coming in his pants, then pulled away.

"Sorry…all that energy…it gets me going." Sam said breathlessly. "Come on, there's more."

"More?" Dean's voice was little more than a squeak.

"Those are Power rooms, dedicated, set aside. It takes a lot of training before you're ready for that. Stamina…the ability to hold an erection even after orgasm. You'll get there, but…I just wanted you to see…"

Dean pulled on Sam's hand, stopping them, dragging Sam back in, needing to taste him. "Just…kiss me." Dean whispered when Sam seemed to hesitate. "I need you."

Sam's lips smiled against his, then Sam was opening his mouth, taking Dean's like it belonged to him, rubbing their bodies together. Dean could feel Sam's cock against his thigh, heavy, hard. He panted as Sam pulled away again. "Can't…want to…but…I have…and you need…" Sam shook his head and smiled. "God I'm glad you're here."

He looked up and around them, seeming to get his bearings. "I should take you to Daniel."

Sam's lips were swollen and red and Dean wanted them. Wanted them desperately. That was…Dean stopped, cocking his head, rubbing a finger over his lips. He shouldn't kiss Sam. Sam was his brother and brothers don't kiss.

"Dean?" Sam turned to look at him quizzically. "What's wrong?"

"What's going on here, Sam. What….what are we doing?"

"I'm taking you to Daniel." Sam came back, his bulk seeming to cut Dean off from anything and everything as he crowded Dean into the wall. The scent of him was overwhelming. Dean wanted to lick him.

"No." Dean shook his head, fists digging into his hips. The pain helped him focus. He remembered Sam calling him, Sam tricking him. "You…we need to go."

Sam's hand was on his shoulder, shoving him into the wall. "You need to be here, Dean. You need help. We're helping you."

Dean shook his head again and tried to push Sam off him. "No. Sam, this is wrong. Wrong. We need to go. Let me help you."

Sam's kiss was hard and Dean's head cracked against the wall trying to escape it. "Don't make it harder Dean."

"He's a strong one, Sam," another voice said beside them. Dean turned to the man…familiar…but no one he could place. "Do you remember me Dean?" His smile was soft. "You asked me to help you. You came here because you wanted help with your sexual issues. You said you wanted to know how to love freely."

"Doesn't sound like me." Dean said through clenched teeth, pushing harder at his brother.

"Dean, please." Sam's voice was pleading, but somehow it didn't match the hardness in his eyes. He was pushing Dean, holding him, except, his hands were not actually touching him.

"Christo." Dean murmured, half expecting Sam to react, but it was the other man who did, his eyes flashing yellow as he grinned.

"Almost as strong as you, Sam. Let's get him up to my room; we'll start by getting him calmed down. Can you knock him out?"

Sam's smile was the last thing Dean saw before darkness fell over him and no matter how he fought to stay awake, he slumped down the wall and into the dark.

 

 

 

He couldn't move. Not that he'd actually tried, he just knew somehow that he couldn't. His body was flushed with heat and need and want, his cock full and hard between his thighs.

He could feel the other person in the room, knew what was going to happen. The hand closed around his cock and stroked him. A voice whispered in his head, telling him he was beautiful, that he was loved, that sex was a gift, sex was power.

Dean squirmed against it, against the voice and the hand, because he knew on some level he should.

"Don't fight, Dean." That voice was more familiar. Sam. "Let go, let us help you. Let us make it better." Not Sam. He couldn't piece it together.

He wanted to shout at Sam, but couldn't remember why, not with his dick so ready to come, not with the heat and the need and the goddamn hand leaving him just shy of orgasm. There was something in his head about a demon, but Sam wasn't a demon.

"Please…"

The hand came back, rubbing over his ass, up to his hole. He knew what they wanted. He had to ask. He had to let them fuck him if he wanted to come. Eventually they would anyway, and he'd come because they wanted him to…he'd done this before. How many times now? He couldn't remember. The hand was still on him, finger resting against his hole. Sam's hand was on his head.

"I love you Dean. I want to be with you. Let me be with you."

"Sammy, please…" Not Sammy. He shook his head, but it didn't clear, he wanted this, wanted Sam, wanted to be loved, to be held, touched.

The hand on his ass slipped away and Sam's glided down off his head, over his sweaty back, down to his ass. There was the slick-cool touch of lube and Sam's finger inside him. "May I Dean? May I love you?" His finger found Dean's prostate, rubbing in tiny circles over it until Dean realized that mewling whimper he heard was himself.

"Tell me Dean…tell me why you fight this?"

Memory bubbled up inside him. Coach and the desk and the pain and the humiliation. Dean's fingers clenched tight and he tried not to, didn't want Sam to know that, but even as the fear rose up in his stomach, he pressed back onto Sam's hand.

"Tell me Dean, and it'll be over." Sam's lips traced over his spine and Dean shuddered.

"Sammy…he…it hurt so much, Sam." Dean gasped and bit down on his lip. He hated saying it, admitting how weak he was…couldn't stop it, couldn't fix it…

"What did he do?" Sam asked, his breath warm on Dean's skin.

"No…" Dean clenched up, his whole body tensing. He'd never spoken it out loud. No one knew. No one. His secret. His guilt. Never tell.

Sam's tongue slide down through his fingers, working away the sting and burn in Dean's ass. "Tell me Dean, how did he hurt you?"

"Couldn't stop him, Sammy." Dean's voice was ravaged, hoarse and creaking as the image played out over and over inside his brain; those hands shoving, pushing, holding…his cock inside Dean, his voice so calm even as he threatened to hurt Sam.

Pressure on his prostate nearly dumped Dean over the edge, raggedly gasping in air. "Say it Dean. Say the word."

"Please, Sam…Please…" Dean could feel the word in his mouth, like it was a physical thing, sitting there, waiting for him to spit it out. "R-r-rape, Sam. He…he…raped me." In his mind he could feel it, the shame as Coach just dropped him like he was worthless.

"Sammy…please Sammy…need you…" His voice broke and Sam's fingers pulled back, his cock thick and heavy as it pressed in.

"Love you Dean." Sam murmured as he thrust in and Dean shoved the bad memories away, the feeling of that first cock all those years before, the fear, the anger…but somehow the memories wouldn't leave, like he was being forced to remember…then slowly the coach wasn't the coach. The coach was Sam…Sam was fucking him over the desk, and the hand holding his neck eased up, slid down. "That's it Dean. Let it go." Sam murmured.

The heavy weight that had been keeping him from moving lifted. The hand was back on Dean's cock and he was coming, yelling, screaming as Sam slammed into him and filled his ass with come. Sam's hand petted over him. "Better Dean. Better. Sleep now."

 

 

"I love you, Sam." He looked up, smiling a little as the blush crept up his neck and into his face.

"Yeah, I love you too, Dean." Sam laughed and damn but he looked happy. He sat at the small table in the room, gesturing at the food laid out for them. "You eating today?"

Dean stretched and got off the bed, achy, but in a good way. "Starving." He sat down and picked up the fork, diving into a plate of home fried potatoes and eggs and sausage that tasted incredible.

"How are you feeling today?" Sam asked, sipping on his coffee.

"Better." Dean said, nodding. "Daniel says I'm almost ready to move up to the dorms."

Sam nodded. "He told me. I'm happy."

"Me too Sam. I am so happy." He smiled and blushed a little harder when Sam took his hand. "I've never felt so…free."

Sam pressed a kiss to his palm. "I told you Dean. I knew you belonged here. With me." Dean pulled his hand back, bringing Sam's with it and kissing his palm as well.

There were parts of him that still sounded out warnings, vague thoughts about their father, about Sam not being Sam, but they were easier to forget now, especially when Sam's foot was in his groin, massaging over his cock. Everyday for a while now began this way, breakfast and conversation, Sam's touch working him to a heightened state of arousal that was never satisfied…not with Sam.

They would come for him after Sam left, sometimes men, sometimes women, sometimes both. He would be immobile at first, subjected to their whim, to their touch, to the words they whispered to him and only when his resistance faded, when he gave in to the love they offered, to the physical and emotional stimulus, only then was he free.

The sex that followed never failed to blow his mind, and leave him a quivering, sweaty mass of naked, sated bliss when it was done. It was still Sam though that he wanted most of all.

"Soon Dean, I promise." Sam said softly, his long fingers petting over Dean's. "I should go, I have duties to attend, young, beautiful people to have sex with." He let go of Dean's hand and stood. "I'll come for dinner, okay?"

"I'd like that." Dean stood too, letting Sam pull him in, melting against the tall, solid presence of his brother and breathing in his scent. It never failed to arouse him.

Sam chuckled and kissed him, soft lips covering Dean's, but he was gone before it could become more. Dean paced the small space of the room, but he didn't have long to wait, there was a knock and then the door was opening to reveal the warm smile of the leggy blonde that had come to be one of his favorite of the alphas responsible for his transformation. "You ready, Dean?"

"For you, always, Jess." There was a vague sort of memory that Jess was somehow responsible for Sam coming to this place, but it faded under her smile as she held out a hand for him. She led him down the hall into the room where they worked, only instead of there being just one or two of them, the room was full. All twelve alphas, including Sam were there and so was Daniel.

"What is this?" Dean asked a little breathlessly after they'd all come to greet him, sloppy, open mouth kisses rocking him a little. Sam's smile was brilliant. Hands were stripping him and he stood there letting them, not sure what was going on.

"Graduation Dean." Daniel said finally once Dean was naked. "Welcome to the family." His arms slid around Dean's waist, his mouth kissing Dean insistently. There was a brief resistance, a need to hold back, but it melted and Dean abandoned himself into the heat of the embrace.

Daniel led him to the bed in the center of the room. Daniel crawled up on the bed, sitting back against the headboard as he drew Dean to him. Dean kissed over his skin, up to his mouth and let Daniel turn him, pull him back so they were back to chest and Dean was looking at the others who had gathered around the bed.

"You held on to your pain for a long time, Dean and used it as a weapon and a shield to keep love away, and it has taken us a long time to penetrate that pain, and show you what real love and intimacy can do for you, how it can heal you. You fought us, clinging to the pain that you knew and understood to avoid the pain that might come from the new…and yet, this morning, you broke the final barrier yourself." Daniel held up a leather band with its white stone. "And in telling Sam that you loved him spontaneously and without pretense, you took the last step into our circle, you became our brother, our lover."

Dean let Daniel put the leather on his wrist, holding it up to admire. White, a christening of sorts, marking him as new, reborn. "I love you." Daniel's kiss was a little awkward with the angle, but lacked nothing in passion.

Dean smiled softly and nodded. "And I love you."

One by one, the alphas came, kissing him, touching him, professing their love to him and he responded until there was only Sam. Sam, who was looking at Dean like he might eat him whole, who was crawling up onto the bed, kissing, licking, nipping at bare skin, up his legs, over his hips.

His hands guided Dean's knees up and out, spreading him open, and leaning him into Daniel. His tongue swirled over Dean's already hard cock, lavishing attention on each tiny inch of skin, lips closing as he hummed and sucked and Dean was bucking up, his ass lifting, letting Daniel's position itself at his hole.

Sam lifted his face, kissing Dean deeply, his own ass poised now over Dean's hard cock, one hand holding it in place. Sam sank down onto him and Dean sank down onto Daniel as if it was all one motion, the three of them tied at the core.

Dean panted through his initial rush, fought against the immediate orgasm as Sam lifted them both up, sliding off him to repeat the slow sinking. "Open your eyes Dean."

He blinked, not really remembering closing his eyes. Sam's hand was on his chest, fingers splayed out, holding him there as he moved slow and easy up and down Dean's cock. "I love you so much Dean. I've waited so long for this, for you to be here with me, us."

Sam's free hand cupped his chin, his thumb tracing over Dean's face. It came away wet and Dean's breath hiccupped as he realized he was crying. His heart was going to burst, it felt so good, so fucking good and before he could stop himself, he was coming, his body bucking between them as his ass clenched and pulled Daniel along and Sam's cock exploded come all over Dean's chest and face.

For a moment no one moved, then the remaining alphas fell on them, licking and sucking and kissing until the come and sweat were gone and all three of them spit-polished. Daniel was laughing as he got up off the bed, tossing Dean his clothes. The room emptied out until it was just Sam and Dean getting dressed.

"You know he's a demon, right?" Dean asked, though there was no malice in the question.

Sam nodded. "I know. Does it matter?"

Dean took his hand and kissed it. "No. I don't think it does."

Sam's smile was all the reward Dean needed. Everything was right. He was where he belonged, with Sam. "So what now?"

Sam stood. "Well, I have a class to get to. School started yesterday. You…get to do whatever makes you happy." Sam's arms circled his waist and his lips kissed over his upturned face. "Whoever makes you happy…wherever makes you happy."

"We still on for dinner?" Dean asked as they headed for the door.

"Oh yeah, and after, I'm going to fuck you until neither one of us can move." Sam said, waving as he headed upstairs, leaving Dean to ponder how to spend his first new day free of his old self.