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Your life flashes before your eyes right before you die.
Dean blinks through the blood stinging his eyes as these all too familiar words seep into his mind like flood waters threatening a doomed levee. Over the years they had been repeated to him countless times in one form or another, never anything more than just empty words he didn’t give a second thought to. But now as the nauseating fumes of the gasoline draining onto the rain soaked asphalt behind them fills his lungs, he wonders if it’s true. He can hear the sound of the engine popping as it cools against the rain falling on the metal surrounding them. He always found the sound comforting and now, as the edges of his vision start to go dark, it feels as much like coming home as it always did.
It’s the sound of winter 1996, a little over twelve hours straight out of Kansas, sitting together in silence, terrified and full of hope, listening to the engine cool in the parking lot of their first cheap motel, with the rest of their lives together ahead of them. It’s fall 1997, the engine pops over the sound of ocean waves crashing onto the sand of the California coast as he holds Sam close, watching the sun disappear below the golden horizon together. It’s the sound of summer 1999, the engine cools in front of him as he fumbles with the buttons on his jeans on the side of a dark highway near the Nevada border just before midnight as Sam waits for him on the warm hood.

If he was asked, Dean would say his life started, really started, on December 3, 1996. Although he lived through nearly eighteen years before, that day is when everything changed. As his mind races through fading memories, he focuses on the sound, it eases him as he surrenders to the darkness at the edges of his consciousness. He closes his eyes and chokes out a labored breath as everything fades to black.

Through the darkness, he hears a voice, quiet and muffled, like it’s coming from behind a closed door. It is speaking to him but he can’t make out what it’s saying. His eyelids are heavy when he tries to lift them, all he can make out is a blur of white around him and bright light. The voice is louder now as he feels a warm touch on his arm. He opens his eyes again, blinking as he tries to focus on something, anything.

“There he is,” the voice says clearly. He turns his head, looking up at the dark shape above him and blinks again, an unfamiliar woman comes into focus. He’s in a white room and he hurts, everywhere. It feels like every muscle in his body is struggling to hold together. He tries to speak but all he gets is a dry scratchy feeling in his throat, he coughs and it feels like his ribs are broken.

“Welcome back,” the woman says with a smile as she touches his forehead. He tries to lift his arm to wipe the crust in the corners of his eyes but the woman shushes him and tells him not to move. “Here, try to drink some water,” she says as she holds a straw up to his lips, he does as he’s told and sips. It chokes him at first, but when he gets the hang of it again it soothes his throat as he swallows.

“Where-” is all he gets out before he coughs again.

“Where are you?” She asks, “you’re at Lawrence Memorial. You’ve been in an induced coma for two weeks, we almost lost you,” she continues.

“What?” Dean asks, confused as he tries to think back to what happened, but the last thing he can remember is going to his dealer Sean’s house. “Where’s my brother?” He croaks out as panic starts to rise in him. He left Sam alone at home, he remembers waking him up to tell him he had to go and he would be right back. But that was- he swallows as his mind races- two weeks ago.

“You’re lucky he called when he did, he saved your life,” she says, looking at the machine next to his bed. Her words barely process in Dean’s blurred thoughts all he can think is he has to get to Sam.

“Wha- where is he?” He asks again, more forceful this time as he tries to sit up. The nurse puts her hands on his shoulders to hold him down. The steady beeping coming from the machines by his bed picks up as his heart races.

“Your brother is fine, he’s in state custody,” she answers, “we’ve contacted him to let him know you’re okay.” Dean chokes on his breath as he moves to sit up again.

“I need to see him,” he says as he reaches over to try to pull the IV out of the back of his hand.

“Whoa,” she says, pushing him back down onto the bed, “you’re not going to see anyone but security if you don’t calm down and do as I tell you.” Dean lays back, his head starting to feel light as his breathing quickens. He needs to get out of here, he needs to get to Sam. “We will restrain you if you make us,” she continues, “you can see your brother after you both meet with your social workers.”

“When will that be?” Dean breathes out as he tries to relax himself so the nurse will let go of him.

“You have an appointment for tomorrow afternoon,” she says in a calming tone, “if you feel up to it, we can get you up and walking beforehand. Now I’m going to leave you to go get you some dinner okay? Are you going to behave for me?” She asks as she fusses with his sheets.

Dean closes his eyes tight and takes a deep breath, “yes.”

That night as he tries to sleep, his mind races with memories of the past few months, repeating his mistakes again and again on a loop he can’t break free from. He throws up the food he managed to keep down until his stomach is empty and cramping, then again just bitter bile. When exhaustion finally takes him under, his dreams are haunted with the sick touches of strange men, their rough hands roaming his body hungrily, unwelcome mouths and tongues slipping against his skin. They invade him inside and out as they sink their cocks into him again and again. He is trapped, unable to stop them because he needs his next fix, this is his payment. This is his hell.

He wakes suddenly in a fit of tears, his body shaking violently as he throws up again, a bright yellow stain on the blanket around his legs. He pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them as he lets out long breaths, trying to calm himself. He never let himself feel it at the time. He was dead inside, numb to their touches and words as they used and ruined him. In the moment, he was gone. Then the needle sank into his veins and he could surrender to the poison spreading through him, taking him under into the high he needed like air. Only to repeat again when he ran out.

The next afternoon there is a knock at the door to his room, his stomach flips with nerves and he feels like he is going to be sick again, the handle clicks and opens without waiting for a response.]
“Dean Winchester?” A man asks as he steps into his room, “My name is Tom,” he continues, “I’m here to check up on you.” He shuts the door behind him.

“You my caseworker?” Dean asks, his voice wavering slightly as he sits up in his bed. He can feel his hands trembling so he clasps them tightly in his lap.

“Yes, I am,” Tom says as he moves the chair in the corner over to the side of Dean’s bed, “how are you feeling?” He asks as he sits.

“Fine. I just want to see my brother,” Dean says. His throat tightens as he imagines what Sam must have gone through.

“And you will, I just need you to answer a few questions for me,” Tom says as he puts his glasses on and pulls a binder out of his bag, “your dad died last year, correct?” He asks as he looks up at Dean over his glasses.

“Yes,” Dean answers, trying not to show the anger beginning to simmer inside him, on his face. He watches silently as Tom scribbles something down.

“And you’ve been living in the house alone with your brother since then, yeah?” He asks, looking back up at Dean.

“Yes.”

“Are you employed?” Tom asks as he writes.

“Not at the moment,” Dean answers quietly as he looks down at his hands.

“What have you been doing for an income?” Tom asks as he looks back up at Dean from his notes.

“Odd jobs here and there.” Dean says and he swallows back the bile rising in his throat.

“How long have you been doing heroin?” Tom asks, looking down at the page in front of him as he waits for Dean’s answer. Dean looks back up at the man and takes a deep breath.

“About a year, but I quit recently.”

“You quit,” Tom pauses as he looks up at him, “was that before or after your overdose?” The skepticism in his voice makes Dean want to hit him.

“Before.”

“Okay,” Tom nods, “in that time, let me see here,” he says as he flips through a couple pages and stops, “you’ve been arrested for aggravated assault and spent around two weeks in jail, and have also been hospitalized for,” he pauses as he looks down at the page, “it says here, severe internal trauma?”

Dean chews on the inside of his cheek as Tom waits for his response, “yes,” Dean says finally.

“What happened there?” Tom asks, turning the pages again without looking up.

“Some asshole hurt Sam so I hurt him,” Dean says matter-of-factly.

“And the hospitalization?”

Dean clenches his fist around the blanket on his hospital bed as he looks at the far wall, “I-” he swallows hard, “I was, um,” the word sticks in his throat, choking him as he tries to get it out.

“It was a sexual assault, was it not?” Tom asks without looking up at him, “that’s what the report says.”

“If it says it in the report why are you asking,” Dean asks, feeling nauseous. The memories of that night he worked so hard to bury deep down claw at the edges of his mind and he can feel himself shaking, terrified of reliving it.

“Standard procedure,” Tom answers as he writes something down. “Okay, Dean, here’s the thing. Because you are still a minor, let alone unemployed and a heroin addict, we will not release your brother into your custody. He should have never been in your care in the first place.”

“You can’t do this,” Dean groans, as his world comes crashing down around him, “don’t do this.” He drops his head into his hands, “the nurse said I could see him, you have to let me see him,” he pleads as he looks over to Tom.

“You can see him,” Tom says and Dean lets out a shaky breath, “under supervision,” he adds, “until you can prove to the courts that you are fit. If you can prove you’ve held a job, lived in a suitable residence, and been clean from drugs for twenty-four months, your case will be reviewed. Until then, Sam will remain with a foster family.”

“You have your requirements, I suggest you get to work as soon as possible if he is really that important to you,” Tom says as he packs his binder into his bag. With that, Dean’s mood shifts, anger erupts in him as he snaps.

“Are we done here?” Dean growls, “because I’m going to tell you right now, you are never going to be able to take my brother from me, or keep him from me. Don’t you fuckin’ worry about that.”

“Okay,” Tom says, moving the chair back to the corner, “that right there, is not the kind of thing you want to say to the man who decides if you see your brother again or not. I’m going to pick him up and bring him in for a supervised visit, but if you make me regret that, I promise you that you won’t see him again and it will be for his own good.”

Dean swallows hard, his mouth going dry as he narrows his eyes. This guy has no idea what he would be willing to do to get Sam back. Nothing can keep them apart, not now. He made the mistake of almost losing Sam before, he won't make it again.

After Tom leaves, Dean asks his nurse for a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbles down the words ‘if he gives me the address, I’m coming for you tonight’ then folds it up and waits.

A few hours later the door to his room swings open, Sam runs in without hesitation and jumps onto Dean’s bed. Dean wraps his arms around him and buries his face in Sam’s neck, holding him close and he breathes him in. Everything else melts away and he feels at ease, wrapped in Sam’s arms, for the first time since he woke up. They sit silently for a long moment, holding each other tight then Dean feels Sam’s body begin to shake as he starts to cry onto Dean’s shoulder. Dean pulls him up so he is sitting, straddling Dean’s hips and holds his face in his hands as he looks at Sam’s crumpled face.

“Hey,” Dean says softly as he wipes the tears from Sam’s cheeks with his thumbs, “hey, don’t cry, Sammy.” All he wants to do is kiss Sam until his tears stop, to pull him against him and taste him again until Sam knows everything is going to be okay. He leans in then stops himself as he remembers they are not alone. Tom is standing in the doorway, watching them carefully, so Dean settles on pressing a kiss to Sam’s wet cheek.

“I thought you were dead,” Sam mutters through his tears, he lunges forward and wraps his arms around Dean again. “I thought you were dead,” he repeats and Dean’s heart shatters. He wraps his arms around Sam’s trembling body again, holding back everything he wants to say to him.

“Can we have a minute?” Dean asks, holding Sam close as he looks over to Tom.

“No,” Tom answers in a flat tone, “we do need to get going though.”

“He just got here!” Dean shouts as he pulls Sam tighter against him.

“He can come for another visit in a day or two, but right now he has an appointment to get to,” Tom says, walking over to the bed, “come on, Sam.”

“No,” Sam sniffs against Dean’s chest as Dean brushes his damp hair away from his face, “I’m not leaving him.”

“If you want to see your brother again, then you need to come with me,” Tom says, laying his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” Dean warns as he smacks Tom’s hand away.

“Come on, Sam,” Tom says again. Sam sits up and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Dean looks at him, hoping to get everything he wants to say across to him without a word. Discreetly, Dean slips the folded piece of paper into Sam’s hand and closes his fingers around it. Sam looks down at their hands and then back up at Dean, he nods and Sam moves to get off the bed.

“They can’t keep us apart,” Dean says with a soft smile as he cups Sam’s cheek in his hand and it takes everything in him not to kiss Sam right then and there.

“I know,” Sam says, smiling as he sniffs back his running nose.

“Can you at least give me the address where he’ll be so I can write to him?” Dean asks as Tom leads Sam out of the room. Tom stops and pulls a loose piece of paper out of his bag, he scribbles down an address and holds it out toward Dean.

“All your letters will be checked before they get to Sam,” he says then hands Dean the paper.

“Of course,” Dean nods.

Sneaking out of the hospital was easier than he thought it would be. Last time he was here, they had him locked in under suicide watch, but this time he was able to just walk out the back door unseen. He didn’t have clothes to change into because he came in naked, bruised and bloody, but the nurses provided him with scrubs to wear upon his request. Walking around bare assed in a hospital gown around Lawrence at night on his way home was sure to get him caught and sent back, or arrested.
A wave of relief washes over him as he rounds the corner of their street and sees their car parked in the driveway still right where he left it. Quickly, he climbs into the house through their unlocked bedroom window and changes. He fills two duffels and Sam’s backpack with as much of their clothes and things as he can then leaves through the front door and never looks back.

The house Sam is staying at is in a nice neighborhood, two stories with a well kept lawn and the thought that maybe Sam is better off with these people briefly crosses Dean’s mind as he parks across the street, then he shakes his head, pissed at himself for even considering it. He cuts the engine and waits, hoping Sam was watching for him.

After a few minutes of waiting, the front door opens and his heart leaps as he sees Sam sneak out quietly. A smile spreads on his lips as he watches Sam run down the front lawn and across the street to the waiting car.

“Hey, kid,” Dean grins wide as Sam opens the door and climbs in. He licks his lips, his stomach twisting with nervous excitement as Sam shuts the door behind him and crawls across the seat toward him. Dean’s breath catches in his throat as Sam leans in and kisses him. Desperate and messy, Dean kisses him back as Sam holds his hands on either side of Dean’s face, cupping his cheeks as he pulls him into him.

“I missed you so much,” Sam breathes out against Dean’s lips then presses in again, his tongue dipping into Dean’s waiting mouth.

“Hey,” Dean says as he pulls back then presses another quick kiss to Sam’s slick lips, “let’s go.” He swallows hard as Sam looks up at him with wide eyes shining in the light of the street lamp and nodded.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

December 5, 1996

They drive twelve hours straight the first day. Down endless miles of two lane road across the flat snow covered plains of America. Escaping Kansas and every part of their old life that isn’t each other and their car. The road ahead of them s absolute freedom and a new beginning, a chance to do it their way. The miles behind them leading back to the place they once called home, were nothing more to them than a memory ready to be forgotten.

It takes five and a half hours to get out of Kansas. They pass the ’Welcome to Colorful Colorado’ sign and never look back.
“So much for ‘colorful Colorado,” Dean jokes, looking out across nothing but flat white ground and grey sky.

They didn’t talk much the first few hours. Sam was quieter than usual when he wasn’t sleeping softly pressed against Dean’s side. When Dean had a chance he would look over at Sam staring out his window. He would nudge him with his elbow and think maybe this was a mistake, but then Sam would smile at him and he knew they’d be alright. He could tell Sam was scared, neither of them had ever left home before, but they had their whole lives ahead of them and they didn’t have anyone to tell them how to live it.

“We’re going to be alright,” Dean says, looking over to Sam as he slips his hand into Sam’s.

“I know,” Sam smiles as he holds Dean’s hand a little tighter.

As he stares at the road in front of them, Dean thinks about how a person like him could have got so lucky. Somehow he was blessed with a beautiful little brother who he loves like he couldn’t imagine anyone else loving another person. A boy who looks at him like he is everything to him, even despite all the shit he had been put through. Dean never considered himself a good person, he is selfish, he lies and cheats, he couldn’t take the pressure of trying to raise Sam alone, and he put too much on Sam’s shoulders. The worst thing he could ever imagine doing is leaving Sam alone in the world, and he was so close to it, more than once, and he will never forgive himself for it.

Sam would never know what it felt like to be alone and scared again, he is going to make sure Sam knows he is the center of Dean’s whole world. He would do anything for Sam and he knows Sam would do the same for him. He is Sam’s and Sam is his, and they would burn the world to ashes for each other.

Another hour passes before they see the outline of the Rocky Mountains appear on the horizon. Sam is sitting pressed against Dean’s side, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder with Dean’s arm around him and Dean wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.

“See that, Sam?” Dean asks as he glances down at Sam, “those are the Rocky Mountains, once we get over those we’ll be free.”
Five more hours and they make it over the pass. On the other side, they stop for the night in a small town outside of Grand Junction. They pick the cheapest motel they can find, the money Dean managed to save up is running out fast between fill ups and what little food they picked up.

He cuts the engine and they sit in silence listening to it pop as it cools in the freezing air. Dean wouldn’t admit it to Sam but he is terrified. Self doubt creeps up, invading his thoughts as he wonders if he made the right decision, if they can actually do this, if this is what’s best for Sam. He feels sick again, nerves twist his stomach into knots as he stares out the window at the snow falling all around them, then he feels Sam’s warm hand slip into his and he swallows.

“Ready?” he asks, looking over at Sam and Sam nods.

“Yeah.”

Their room is small and plain with white walls, a table with a TV and a queen size bed covered in an ugly comforter. They kick off their snow covered boots and drop their bags against the wall. Dean turns the thermostat way up and drops face first onto the bed as the heater hums to life.

“You okay?” Sam asks, laying his hand on Dean’s back as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah,” Dean lies as he turns his head to face Sam, “just tired. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam answers with a soft smile.

Dean rolls over onto his side and props his head up on his hand, “were those social workers good to you?” he asks, reaching up to tuck a strand of Sam’s hair behind his ear.

“They were nice,” Sam says as he looks down at the comforter and picks at it, “they just asked a lot of questions.”

“Like what?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know, just about our lives I guess,” Sam pauses, cocking his head to one side as he continues to pick at the comforter, “they asked if you ever touched me.”

“What did you tell them?” Dean swallows.

“Oh, just that you touched me all the time,” Sam says with a nod, “all over,” he continues as Dean pulls his eyebrows tight together. “Oh, and that you even fucked me once,” Sam adds and Dean’s stomach sinks. Guilt pools heavy in his gut as what little he remembers of that night run through his mind. A few months ago, drunk as fuck, high, and out of it, he took advantage of Sam when he was drunk too. He abused Sam’s trust when he should have been strong enough to say no to him, Sam wasn’t ready for what he was asking for. He fucked up and gave in when Sam was vulnerable and he still hates himself for it.

“Sam I-”

“What do you think I told them, Dean?” Sam groans, cutting Dean off with a shove to his shoulder, “of course I told them no, I’m not an idiot, God,” Sam pauses for a moment, “it’s not like it matters now anyway, right?.”

“Right,” Dean swallows, his mouth dry. He reaches out and takes a hold of Sam’s hand and squeezes. He will make it up to him, he’ll make everything up to him, somehow.

Sam stands and Dean watches as he gathers his things and walks into the bathroom. He sits up and pulls his jacket off and throws it on top of Sam’s. He strips out of his jeans and sits on the bed as he waits for Sam to get out of the shower, when he’s finished Dean takes his turn. Back in the room, Sam is laying on his back on the bed and Dean drops down next to him. Sam rolls over onto his side and kisses Dean softly.

“I’m so happy,” he smiles against Dean’s lips then pulls back.

“You’re not scared?” Dean asks, looking over at him.

“I’m scared, but I’m more happy,” Sam says as he lays his head down on Dean’s chest.

“I’m happy too,” Dean says, smiling to himself as he puts his arm around Sam. Dean can feel Sam running his fingertips lightly over the rattlesnake tattoo on the inside of Dean’s forearm. He turns his head and watches as Sam’’s fingertips move upwards to the scars in the hollow of his elbow. Dean feels a sick twist in his stomach as Sam stops over the most recent one. He waits for Sam to say something or move, but Sam just stays still until his shoulders begin to shake.

“Hey,” he says, tipping Sam’s chin up toward him, “it’s okay.” He wipes the tears from Sam’s cheeks.

“I thought I was going to lose you, Dean,” Sam cries, “I thought you were dead.”

“Sam-”

“You’re all I have left, and you almost left me too,” Sam sniffs as he cuts Dean off.

“I’m never going to leave you,” Dean insists. He moves Sam’s head, making him look at him, “I’m never going to leave you,” he says again.

“You said that before and you almost did. Dean, if I didn’t- if I didn’t-” Sam begins to sobs against Dean’s hands.

“You saved my life, baby,” Dean urges, “I owe you everything, and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Sam.” Sam nods as he wipes his tears on his shirt.

“I won’t ever leave you either,” Sam says quietly.

“I thought you said you were happy,” Dean says, offering Sam a smile.

“I am.” Sam wipes his eyes again, “I’m happy we’re leaving and I’m happy we’re together.”

“Now you’re not going to be able to get rid of me, even if you want to. You’re stuck with me for life, kiddo,” Dean says as he reaches out and ruffles Sam’s hair.

“Wouldn’t ever want to anyway,” Sam smiles as he swats Dean’s hand away.

“Good,” Dean says as he leans in and kisses Sam again.

That night, Dean lies awake listening to the soft sounds of Sam asleep next to him. His mind is racing and he can’t make it stop. He gets up quietly, careful not to disturb Sam and walks over to his bag and grabs the bottle of cheap whiskey he grabbed from the house, his lighter, and a joint. Every time he closed his eyes to try to fall asleep, his mind went to those dark places he thought he would get over. Back to that rundown house with the men, back to that bar bathroom floor slipping on his own blood.

He shuts the bathroom door behind him quietly and turns the light on. The porcelain of the toilet lid is cold against his bare thighs and he hisses as he takes a seat. He unscrews the cap of the bottle and takes drinks until he has to come up for air. It burns down his throat and into his empty stomach as he sets it on the edge of the sink and takes a deep breath. As he takes a drag off the joint he relaxes, sliding down the lid to rest his back against the tank and his head against the wall. He breathes out, exhaling thick smoke into the air around him and closes his eyes.

It helps, half of what was left of the bottle later and his body feels relaxed, heavy and tired. He slips his hand into the waistband of his boxers and palms himself lazily as he takes another drag. He tries to focus his thoughts on the sensation, on how good it feels. He takes another drag and pulls his half hard dick out, exhaling as he strokes himself gently. His thoughts start to race again and frustrated with himself, he sits up and looks around the room for something to use as lube as the joint hangs from between his parted lips.

The motel is too cheap to provide the little complimentary bottles of lotion so he settles on the bottle of their shared shampoo still sitting on the edge of the tub. He thinks back, running through memories as he strokes himself, like the time he ate Sandra Delson out in the girl’s bathroom during lunch and how she could barely make it to her next class her legs were shaking so bad. The time Donnie Kane, star athlete, came in his pants as he sucked his Dean’s dick in the locker room after gym class. The time he fucked Katie Lee “pastor’s daughter” Donovan in the ass in the back of her dad’s Oldsmobile “because she was saving herself until marriage” but she thought Dean was cute.

Guilt and self hate begin to creep at the edges of his thoughts again. “Come on,” he groans quietly as he strokes himself faster. He stills his hand after a few minutes and takes another long drink off the bottle and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Come on.” He keeps going, pushing through and soon he’s coming with a quiet groan. Doubled over and breathing hard through his nose, the muscles in his body contract in waves as he spills over his hand. Trembling, he wipes himself clean and tucks his dick back into his boxers. He walks back into the room on shaking legs and falls into bed next to Sam.

December 15, 1995, one year ago.
It’s sometime after nine by the time Dean pulls into the driveway, the sun long since set. He sits for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel and eyes on the front door, thinking about how he let them get to this point. His boss at the factory has him working most evenings now and he takes as many hours as he can get. The stress of dropping out of school and working full time to support himself and Sam is beginning to take its toll. With Sam at school during the day, he feels like the only time he gets to spend with him anymore is at night and by then he’s too tired to do much.

He thinks about how the loss of their father still doesn’t feel real, like any day now he’s going to come through the front door at 5:25, kick off his boots and sit right down in his big chair like he used to. Like maybe he’s on vacation somewhere nice and not slowly rotting in the frozen ground of the cemetery at the edge of town.

Worst of all, is the feeling he’s letting Sam down. Now is the time he needs him most and he’s not there like he should be, a distance is growing between them that they’ve never felt before. They’re talking to each other less and the only time they really touch anymore is when Dean wakes up to the sound of Sam crying next to him. He holds Sam close and tells him it’s going to be alright, that they’re going to be okay. Even if he doesn’t believe it himself, he does his best to make sure Sam believes he does.

Sam is sitting cross legged at the coffee table when he walks in, they exchange ‘hey’s’ as Dean takes off his jacket. There is a cold bowl of store brand mac and cheese waiting for him in the microwave, the pot is washed and sitting in the drying rack, Sam ate without him.

“How was work?” He hears Sam ask over the hum of the microwave, he gives the standard ‘it was fine’ answer.

He sits on the couch and eats while Sam finishes his homework, trying to ignore the empty chair next to them, and the growing distance between him and the only person he has left, a distance that is completely his fault.

“I’m going to take a bath,” Sam says suddenly as he shuts his book.

“Alright,” Dean says back as Sam stands but doesn’t move. He can feel Sam staring at him so he looks up to meet Sam’s eyes and his heart breaks.

“Will you get in with me?” Sam asks quietly as Dean looks at him, he looks like he’s on the verge of tears. Dean knows he’s losing the one good thing he has left for no reason other than his own selfish pain and guilt.

“Yeah okay, Sam,” he answers. He’s not going to let it happen.

They strip down and Dean climbs in as Sam turns on the taps. He sits with his back against the cold edge of the tub and Sam settles down between his knees with his back against Dean’s chest, just like they used to. Sam doesn’t notice the track marks and bruises on Dean’s arm and if he does, he doesn’t say anything. The steady dripping of the faucet their dad never got around to fixing echos off the mint colored tiles around them. As they sit together in silence, he realizes just how much he missed being with Sam like this and how stupid he is to let it slip away.

“I miss you,” Sam says quietly, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted Dean to hear him.

“I miss you too,” Dean answers and it’s the most honest thing he’s said to Sam in a long time.

“And I miss dad,” he hears Sam say and his chest tightens.

“I know, baby, I miss him too,” Dean says as he wraps his arms around Sam’s chest and rests his chin on his shoulder. He holds Sam close as the water starts to cool.

“I feel like I never see you anymore, it’s like you’re gone too,” Sam’s voice breaks the silence again. Dean has never hated himself more than this very moment, he got so caught up in himself that he lost sight of the one thing that matters most to him.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he pauses and thinks about all the things he should be apologizing for. Sorry for not being there for you like I should have been, sorry I’ve been so distant, sorry you’re hurting, sorry you feel alone. I’m sorry I can’t cope with this on my own, sorry I’m going to let you down again when you find out what I’ve been doing, I’m sorry I’m failing you.

He settles on, “for everything.”

Dean feels Sam’s shoulders shake as he starts to cry, he pulls him against him tighter and says, “don’t cry, sweetheart,” in his warmest voice. He kisses Sam’s shoulder then rests his face side by side against Sam’s cheek. “I’ll talk to my boss, get my hours changed. That way I can work while you’re at school and we’ll have all kinds of time together,” he promises and Sam sniffles.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re gonna be alright, okay?” He says, hoping not only that Sam will believe him, but that he’ll believe it himself this time.

“We’re going to catch pneumonia and we haven’t even washed yet, who’s great idea was this?” Dean jokes as he hugs Sam tight again, “you just wanted to get me naked again, huh? You perv.” He gets a tiny smile out of Sam and everything is still going to shit, but at least he’s still got his little brother.

“C’mon,” he says as he moves to stand up, hauling Sam to his feet with him, “let’s get the shower going and warm up.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

January 16, 1996, one year ago.
Dean pulls into the driveway just before noon on a snowy Tuesday. His head is pounding, he feels like it might break apart at any moment, the pain making him nauseous. His clothes are damp from sweat but he can’t stop shivering, he feels like he’s freezing. His hand shakes as he takes the key out of the ignition, he sits for a moment deciding what he’s going to do next.
His boss sent him home early thinking he had the flu, Dean didn’t argue. He told Dean to stay home a few days and take care of himself, and that he could come back when he feels better. Dean thanked him and left, the effects of withdrawal making it impossible for him to work anyway.

It’s been twenty-two hours.

He thought he could make it through to his next paycheck, but now doesn’t think he’ll make it to tomorrow. The car door slams behind him as he pulls his jacket tight around himself and steps out into the snow. By the time he makes it the few blocks to the house he feels like he’s freezing to death. He pounds on the door and then pulls his arms in tight, tucking his hands into his armpits. It takes a minute or two for the door to swing open. He’s never seen the man in front of him before and it makes him uneasy.

“Is, uh-” he starts and then coughs, “is Sean here?” The man at the door looks him up and down then closes the door over. Dean can hear him say something to someone inside then the door opens again and he motions for Dean to enter.

Sean is sitting on the couch next to two other people and there’s two more on the floor. The room is dim and the TV is on too low for him to hear it. He steps in further and makes eye contact with Sean and Sean nods. He stands and walks into the kitchen, Dean follows.

“The usual?” Sean asks as he sits at the table.

“I don’t have the money at the moment,” Dean confesses, “our bills were due this week and the heating bill,” he coughs again, “was more than I expected, what little we had left I spent on a few groceries.” Sean shakes his head and moves to stand up.

“I feel like I’m fuckin’ dying here, man,” Dean’s voice shakes as the words come out, “I need it,” he pleads, just about ready to drop to his knees and beg.

“I can’t give you anything unless you pay,” Sean says as he stands, “you know that.”

“I’m desperate, man,” Dean blurts out as he moves to block Sean’s path back to the living room.

“Alright,” Sean nods as he looks Dean over, “maybe I can figure out a way you can pay me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean says, “anything.”

“Go to the bedroom and take your clothes off,” Sean says, nodding toward the door at the far corner of the living room. Dean hesitates for a moment, but the sickness is too much and he is too weak. He nods and walks over someone lying on the floor. The door to the room is unlocked, he pushes it open slowly and steps into the dim space, Sean follows him in and closes the door behind him. Dean stops and looks at him, making sure this is really what he meant.

“Go on,” Sean says, so he does.

He pulls off his layers one after another until he’s standing in front of Sean, naked and shivering. He wraps his arms around his torso to try to warm himself up.

“Get on the bed,” Sean orders as he digs through the top drawer of the dresser. Dean hesitates again, then does as he’s told. “Lay down,” Sean says as he turns back around with a kit in his hand.

The mattress dips as Sean climbs on next to him. He grabs Dean’s arm and pulls it over to him then wraps the rubber tubing around Dean’s bicep and ties it tight. Dean lays his head back and breathes deep, knowing relief is within reach. He closes his eyes and listens as Sean taps the syringe, his body shivers as Sean searches for a vein.

The needle pierces his skin and the wave of heat flowing through his veins is immediate. Sean pulls the needle out and sets it on the nightstand next to the bed, then unties the tubing. Dean lets out a sigh of relief as the heat spreads through his body. He feels his shaking start to still and his body relaxes as his pain disappears all at once. He lays there, unmoving until he feels Sean’s hand cup his dick. He moves to try to brush him off but he feels heavy, like he can’t move, then Sean is rubbing him and telling him to turn over. The realization of what is about to happen sinks in and he wants to feel ill but he can’t. His protest dies on his tongue as he sinks further into the high and he does as he’s told.

His face is pressed into the mattress as Sean lifts his hips so he’s on his knees. The edges of his vision start to fade like he’s in a dream as he watches Sean grab the crusty tub of Vaseline off the nightstand.

He’s never done this before and he’s terrified.

For a moment, he wants to stop this before it goes any further, but he’s fading and the thought melts away. He feels Sean smear the cold, slimy Vaseline onto his hole then Sean’s thick fingers are pushing it into him. He takes a deep breath and then as quickly as they entered him, they’re gone. Suddenly he’s feeling the sharp, burning sting of being stretched too much too quickly and he cries out. Sean hushes him as he pushes in further, he tells Dean to relax as Dean feels Sean filling him. He feels like he’s going to rip open any second. The sheets under his face are soaked with tears as he bites onto his lip to keep quiet. It’s too much then all at once it fades into a dull ache as his body become numb.

Then it all goes black.

When he comes to he’s face down on the mattress and alone. He starts to turn over and the sharp pain he feels brings it all flooding back.

Sean fucked him.

Sean fucked him and he let him do it.

His body protests and he lets out a sharp groan as he sits on the edge of the bed. He drops his head into his hands, ashamed of what he’s done and what Sam would think if he knew how far he let himself sink into this pit of shit. He pushes the thoughts out as best he can and stands, he reaches behind himself to check the damage. He touches his abused and swollen hole gingerly, there’s a little blood in the Vaseline left on his skin when he looks at his fingers.

He walks into the attached bathroom and grabs a washcloth from the shower. He runs the tap until it’s warm then soaks the washcloth. He lifts his leg up onto the toilet and gently cleans the area, checking for blood as he goes. It hurts like a bitch but there isn’t much so he guesses he’s okay. He rinses the washcloth and walks back into the room. He notices the little baggie sitting on the bed next to where he had been laying. He pulls on his clothes and tucks the baggie into his pocket, then leaves the room. Sean is sitting on the couch again, but now he’s alone. He looks at him and motions for him to come over, so Dean does.

“Here,” Sean says as he reaches into his pocket, “go buy you and your little brother some decent food.” He hands Dean $200, “and some new clothes.”

“Thanks,” Dean says as he takes the money. It feels wrong and he can’t look Sean in the eyes.

“I’ll keep helping you out, if you come around here more often,” he smiles as he looks up at Dean, “and do some more favors for me.” He reaches out and cups Dean’s cock through his jeans. There is no way Dean can keep the house, keep Sam alive and support his habit on the money he makes at the factory. He needs this to survive.

“Okay,” he says and his voice sounds distant.

He feels numb.

Its after seven when Dean opens the front door to their house, Sam is already home.

“Hey,” Sam smiles as Dean closes the door behind him. Dean doesn’t answer. “Where have you been?” Sam asks.

“Out,” Dean says as he walks down the hallway to the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him and turns the hot water on. He reaches into his pocket and turns the baggie over in his fingers as the mirror starts to steam up.

He stands under the hot water and doesn’t move, just closes his eyes and feels the water run down his skin. As the water starts to cool, he lathers up and scrubs the traces of Sean from his body.

He knows the whole situation is fucked, but he can’t stop it.

December 06, 1996

Sam wakes early to Dean shaking next to him, crying in his sleep, he puts his arm around Dean to pull him closer and Dean wakes with a start, slapping Sam’s hand away from him. “Hey,” Sam asks quietly, “Dean, what’s wrong?”’

“Shit,” Dean groans, wiping his eyes as he lays back down, “nothing, sorry. Just go back to sleep, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Sam asks, he can smell the stale whiskey on Dean’s breath, he knows he is lying.

“Yeah, Sam,” Dean insists as he leans forward and kisses Sam’s forehead, “go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” Sam says softly, watching Dean in the darkness.

The sun rises filling the room with dim light through the closed curtains. Sam waits until he’s sure Dean is asleep again, which took hours, and climbs out of bed. He goes about his morning routine quietly and pulls on his clothes from yesterday, still waiting for him on the bathroom floor. When he’s finished, he tries to smooth his bedhead hair down with some water, but it doesn’t work so he pulls on his hat laying on the floor next to his jacket.

Sam picks up Dean’s jacket and digs through the pockets until he finds Dean’s wallet. He takes two twenties out and puts the wallet back where he found it, then lays Dean’s jacket on the foot of the bed.

“Where are you going?” Dean asks quietly, his voice muffled against his pillow and Sam freezes.

“Just out to the car,” he lies with a shrug.

“You need money to go out to the car?” Dean asks, sitting up now. He looks exhausted, dark circles and bloodshot eyes.

“I’m just going to go get some food,” Sam admits, “there’s a diner across the street,” he pauses, “it was supposed to be a surprise.”

“I’ll go with you,” Dean says, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s just across the street, I’ll be right back,” Sam insists as he opens the door, “you just stay here.”

“Okay,” Dean nods, his eyebrows pulled tight together as he watches Sam walk out the door and shut it behind him.

It looks like it snowed all night, their car has a few inches on it and their footprints from the night before are gone. Sam steps into the parking lot and kicks at the fresh snow as he walks to the road. He stands on the sidewalk and squishes the slush beneath his boots as he waits for the traffic to pass. When he gets a chance, he runs across the street to the diner on the other side. There is a neon sign in the window that says ‘breakfast’ in bold capital letters, and another one that says ‘open’ hanging next to it. The bell on the door jingles as he steps inside, it’s pretty empty, considering how many seats there are.

He steps up to the bar and takes a seat on one of the stools. The menu is written out in little plastic letters on a big white board behind the counter, he looks through the options as he waits. It takes a few minutes before an older woman appears from a doorway leading to the kitchen.

“You waitin’ on somebody?” She asks as she steps up to him.

“No, ma’am, it’s just me,” he answers as he takes off his hat and sets it on the counter next to him.

“Well what can I get for ya?” She asks, taking a small notepad out of her apron pocket.

“Two omelets, one with ham and cheese and one with everything except mushrooms, both with hashbrowns,” Sam pauses while she writes it down, when she looks back up at him he continues, “um, and two short stacks of pancakes, with extra butter and syrup if you can. Also two large coffees, both black and an apple juice. To go.”

“That’s an awful lot of food for such a little guy, you must be hungry,” she says as she clicks her pen closed and tucks it back into her apron pocket.

“Oh, it’s not all for me, I’m buying surprise breakfast for my big brother,” Sam says with a smile.

The waitress smiles back at him, “well that’s sure nice of you.” She rips the sheet out of the notebook and clips it to the order wheel, “we’ll get that right out for ya.” While the food cooks, she brings him out his apple juice in a to-go cup to drink while he waits, which he is grateful for. He hadn't realized just how hungry he was until he smelled the food cooking.

“That’ll be twenty-seven thirty,” she says as she sets the bags of food on the counter. Sam hands her the twenties and thanks her, then takes the bags in one hand and picks the drink carrier up with the other. He backs out the door then jogs back across the street, careful not to slip on the slush. When he gets to the door to their room, he balances the drinks on his arm with his chin and opens the door with his free hand. Dean is pulling on a t-shirt as Sam walks into the room and rushes over to help him.
Dean sets the food down on the foot of the bed as Sam toes out of his soggy boots by the door. He pulls his coat off and lays it over Dean’s then climbs onto the bed.

“It smells amazing,” Dean says as he sits down next to him, “I’m starving.”

“I bet,” Sam answers.

“I feel like I haven’t eaten in weeks,” Dean says as he reaches for one of the coffees. “Hospital food leaves something to be desired.” Sam hands Dean his omelet and hashbrowns and Dean nods in thanks as he swallows his coffee.

“I got pancakes too,” Sam says as he pushes another styrofoam box toward Dean.

“Really?” Dean asks with a smile, “you’re too good to me,” he says as he pours one of the little buckets of syrup over the stack. He cuts through the pancakes with his fork and takes a bite. “Holy shit this is good,” he says through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah it is,” Sam laughs as he shovels hash browns into his mouth.

After a few minutes of silence, Dean looks up at Sam. “So where should we go now?” He asks as he pushes a cube of ham around with his plastic fork. Sam wipes his mouth on a napkin and pushes the last of his food to the side.

“Let’s go to the ocean,” Sam says after a moment.

“The ocean?” Dean asks as he looks at Sam.

“Yeah, let’s go to the beach, where there’s sun and it’s hot. I’m tired of the snow.”

“Okay,” Dean says with a smile, “the beach it is then.”

“I want to see palm trees,” Sam says as Dean lays back down on the bed and props his head up with his hand, “and cities that go on forever,” he continues.

“What else?” Dean asks.

“I want to lay on the sand under the sun,” Sam says as he lays down next to Dean and faces him, “we could go skinny dipping in the real life ocean!”

“I like the way you think,” Dean laughs.

“Can we go everywhere?” Sam asks with a smile.

“Anywhere you want, sugar,” Dean says as he leans in and presses a kiss to Sam’s lips again.

February 12, 1996

Dean knocks on the front door of the little house on the outskirts of town, he knows what’s coming but he’s past the point of being able to stop. He breathes into the air as he waits, watching his breath float away and disappear into the cold. After a few minutes he hears a familiar voice asking who it is from the other side of the door and his stomach drops. No turning back now.

“It’s Dean.”

Dean hears the lock click and the door cracks open, the tall man whose name he never learned looks him over then opens the door wide enough for Dean to squeeze in. Dean pulls his coat off and hangs it on one of the hooks next to the door. Sean is sitting on the couch by himself watching TV, he looks at Dean then gestures to the tall man to leave the room. Sean motions for Dean to come over to him so Dean does.

“Take your clothes off and get on your knees,” Sean orders. Dean strips out of his clothes without hesitation, grateful for the warmth inside the house. He kneels down in front of Sean and looks down at the carpet under his knees as Sean pulls his cock out of his jeans and spreads his legs wide to make room. Dean scoots forward and opens his mouth.

“Take your time,” Sean says as he rubs the head of his cock against Dean’s lips. Dean closes his eyes and takes hold of it, he licks up the underside as Sean leans back against the couch and changes the channel. Dean works him over slow and Sean runs his fingers through Dean’s hair with one hand as he takes a swig off his beer with the other. The gentleness of Sean’s touch makes him sick. Dean’s knees are starting to hurt by the time there is a knock at the door and Dean flinches as Sean yells above him, asking who it is. Dean pulls back to look at the door but Sean tells him to keep going and guides Dean’s head back to his lap.

“It’s Chuck, you fucking moron,” the voice on the other side of the door says as Dean closes his eyes again and nuzzles at Sean’s heavy balls, trying to be good because he and Sam both need him to. Sean’s cock bounces against his cheek as he lets out a laugh and Dean hears the door unlock and then shut and lock again, then the couch dips as Chuck sits down next to Sean. “This is Dean,” Dean hears Sean say as he sucks at the base of Sean’s cock, “he’s working off his debt.” Dean furrows his brow as he tries to pretend he isn’t really there. “Ain’t he pretty?” Sean asks as he takes a hold of Dean’s jaw with one hand and holds it open as he guides his cock into his throat.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” Chuck says, looking over Dean’s naked body as he chokes.

Sean holds Dean’s head still with both hands as he fucks Dean’s throat. Dean tries to relax, tries not to gag or choke, but it feels like his throat is on fire and tears start streaming down his cheeks. Sean finally pulls out with a grunt, long strings of spit and precome stretch between Dean’s swollen lips and the shining head of Sean’s cock as Sean strokes himself fast. He comes, spilling across Dean’s lips and cheek and Dean wants to throw up.

“Lick it clean,” Sean says, holding the head of his cock in front of Dean’s messy lips. Dean closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath and leans in to gather the last beads of come from the tip onto his tongue.

“Good boy,” Sean purrs as he tucks himself back into his pants. A sick mixture of disgust and pride twists Dean’s stomach into knots at the words. Sean stands and leads Dean into the bedroom. Dean knows the drill by now, he sits on the edge of the bed and presents his arm, his body aching for the relief he knows is coming.

Sean pulls his kit out of the drawer and shoots Dean up. Dean lays back onto the bed and rolls over onto his stomach. He lets the heroin take him under as he waits for what comes next. This is the third time Dean has sold himself to Sean for a fix. Physically, it hasn’t been as bad as the first time, at least he knows what to expect now and can prepare. But he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the self loathing that comes after. As Dean drifts farther and farther away, he hears Sean ask Chuck if he wants a go with him. He can hear a belt unbuckling behind him and before he can protest it all goes black.

Dean wakes up a sticky mess in a dark room. He sits up and walks into the attached bathroom and flips on the light, it flickers and buzzes to life. He grabs a towel and runs it under the faucet, avoiding the mirror as he wipes the dried come from his face and body. He walks back into the bedroom and sees someone left his clothes on the bed for him, he pulls them on and tucks the little baggie and desperately needed $50 Sean left for him into his pocket. He walks into the living room to get his coat and sees Chuck sitting on the couch. Chuck looks at him and licks his lips, Dean feels his stomach creep up into his throat.

He makes it out to his car before he can’t hold it in anymore and he throws up on the driveway, bracing himself on the door handle. He heaves until he’s empty and spits the last of it onto the ground then wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He feels disgusting and needs a distraction, so he drives to the nearest bar on the way home and grabs the first girl he can and fucks her on the couch while Sam sleeps in their room.

He wakes up on the living room floor feeling like shit. He groans as he sits up, the girl is gone. He looks around the room lit by cool early morning light and sees Sam’s backpack sitting on the floor by the front door. Dean drops his head into his hands, sick with guilt he decides it’s better to not to be there when Sam wakes up. He couldn’t stand to see the disappointment on his face. He gets in the shower and leaves just before seven.

A few nights later, they’re sitting on the couch together eating dinner. Sam sets his bowl down on the coffee table and turns to Dean. “Do you still want me?” he asks quietly. Dean furrows his brow as he looks over to him.

“Why would you even ask me that?” You know you’ll always be my number one,” Dean says as he reaches over and cups Sam’s cheek.

“Yeah I know, but-” Sam trails off as Dean guides his face closer to his.

“Don’t you ever forget that,” he says, looking Sam in the eyes.

January 3, 1997

“We’re officially out of money,” Dean sighs as he drops onto the bed next to Sam. He closes his eyes as he tries to keep himself from freaking out. The little money he managed to save didn't last as long as he hoped.

“What are we going to do?” Sam asks, Dean can hear the concern in his voice and his stomach turns at the thought of failing Sam again.

“Well,” Dean says, “I could get job, but that would mean staying here for at least a week or two, but we don’t have money to pay for the room for that long.” Sam’s shoulders slump as he looks down at the sheets. "We could hustle," Dean suggests with a shrug, "rob a couple rich assholes?"

Dean lets out a deep breath when Sam doesn't respond, “I have another idea,” he says, chancing a glance up at Sam. In the back of his mind he always knew selling himself was an option, he’s only ever been good for one thing. At least now it would be his own choice, he wouldn’t be forced into it like before. Sex always calms him down and soothes his mind, but the thought of selling himself to strangers again still twists his stomach into knots. “But you’re not going to like it,” he adds.

“What?” Sam asks curiously.

“Well,” Dean starts and the pauses as he looks back down, “I could make money really fast if I just, you know,” he shrugs, “sell my body.”

“What?” Sam asks, his face twisting in confusion, “like prostitution?”

“I’ve done it before,” Dean admits, “more than a few times.”

“Dean, what the fuck?” Sam hits him in the shoulder, “are you serious? Why would you do that?” Dean swallows back the truth.

“We needed money, Sam,” he says then clears his throat.

“Does this have to do with Sean?” Sam asks, standing up now and Dean’s heart skips a beat as Sam looks at him with hurt in his eyes, “is that what you were doing?”

“Sam, it’s not like-”

“They told me you were a heroin addict, Dean,” Sam says, his face crumpling as he fights back tears, “and that you overdosed, that that’s what happened to you,” Sam continues, “that whole time you were out fucking creeps for money? For what, so you could get more heroin?”

“Dont’-” Dean starts the swallows hard against the lump in his throat as he feels like he’s going to be sick, “you don’t know wh-”

“I was miserable, Dean!” Sam yells, “I thought about-” he pauses as tears begin to slide down his cheeks, “I felt so alone that whole time, I didn’t know what to do! I thought I did something wrong!”

“Sam-”

“That night I drank myself sick to try to make myself feel better like you, like dad? That night we-” he swallows, “that night we fucked? Why do you think I was so desperate, Dean? I thought if you realized I could be enough for you you wouldn’t go out and fuck other people!”

Dean’s chest feel tight, like he can’t breath, “I- I didn’t know that,” he swallows again.

“I was so stupid,” Sam lets out a shaky laugh as he shakes his head, “of course I wasn’t enough.”

“Sam, of course you’re enough! You’re everything, you’re all that matters-”

“Yeah, that’s what you keep saying-” Sam huffs out a laugh.

“I didn’t care about those other people,” Dean all but pleads for Sam to understand, “I hated most of them! It was just sex, it didn’t matter!”

“It matters to me!” Sam yells, pointing at is chest.

“You want to know the truth?” Dean asks, “do you really want to know what happened?”

“Yes,” Sam said and Dean could feel himself starting to shake.

“Yeah, Sam, Sean passed me around to random assholes so I could pay off my debts. Most of the time I didn’t even know what I was getting into before it was too late,” Dean swallows, “do you know what that feels like?” he asks, “being violated by a stranger you can’t even fi-” he chokes, “I couldn’t say no to them.”

“Why didn’t you just quit?” Sam asks and Dean feels sick.

“I did, didn’t I?” he looks at Sam, “I did quit.”

“Then why do you want to do it again?” Sam asks, sitting back down on the bed.

“It’s not the same,” Dean lets out a deep breath, “I’ll get to say no. I’ll have that choice, it’ll be on my terms.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you,” Sam asks, scooting closer.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean asks back, “if I would have realized how bad you were feeling, I would have quit sooner.” He swallows, he wants to think that’s the truth, but deep down he doesn’t know if it would have made a difference to him at the time. “Listen,” Dean starts, “it’s just sex, it doesn’t matter to me,” he insists, “unless it’s with you, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam nods, but Dean can tell he is still upset.

“Hey,” Dean leans forward and tips Sam’s chin up to look at him, “I only wanna be with you, just like the song, right?” He says to try to lighten the mood and make Sam smile.

Sam nods again, “okay.”

“I don’t know what it is that makes me love you so,” Dean sings quietly, “I only know I never want to let you go-”

“It doesn’t matter where you go or what you do,” Sam sighs.

“See? Exactly. Dusty understood,” Dean smiles.

“I guess you’re right,” Sam says.

That night, Dean leaves Sam alone in the room and heads out down the street on foot.

The first guy Dean finds drives him to an ally and parks. The guy is nice enough, noticably nervous, but he hands Dean a twenty and asks if he will blow him. Dean nods, “sure.”

When the guy finishes, Dean opens the car door and spits the his load onto the pavement and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “See you around,” Dean says as stands in the open door.

“Thanks,” the guy says and Dean nods then shuts the door and walks away. It wasn’t so bad, he likes sucking dick anyway, and this guy wasn’t gross. Sex with strangers was never the issue, in fact, he kind of liked the anonymity of it.

He ends up coming back to the room with $67 and Chinese takeout from the place down the street one of the john’s recommended.

As he tries to sleep, his nasuea as his mind races gets so bad he throws up his dinner in the toilet. He is still awake, leaning against the tub on the floor of the bathroom when Sam gets up the next morning.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks as he walks into the cool bathroom, wrapping his arms around his bare chest.

“Yeah,” Dean nods, “I just-” he trails off as he gestures half heartedly to the toilet. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He is exhausted, barely able to keep his head up.

“It’s freezing in here,” Sam says as he turns to glance at the thermostat by the front door.

“I was hot,” Dean explains, shivering as he pulls his knees up to his chest. He watches Sam as he walks over and turns it up, the heater hums to life and Sam walks back over to him.

“Come on,” Sam says, offering him a hand, “come to bed.” Dean closes his eyes, nausea creeping back up but he has nothing left in him. “Please?”

Dean swallows and looks up at Sam. His hair is a mess, sticking up in the back, his bangs pushed to one side and his face is still flushed pink with sleep. He looks beautiful and Dean closes his eyes again, pulling his eyebrows tight together.

“I don’t deserve you,” he groans as he drops his head against his crossed arms resting on his knees. “You’re so good to me and I-”

“Hey,” Sam eases as he crouches down, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to stop.”

Dean looks up, confused by Sam’s response, “what?”

“You need to stop,” Sam repeats. “You and me,” he continues, gesturing between them, “are all we have and I wouldn’t want it any other way. You’re all I want,” he pauses as he scoots forward, “you’re all I need.”

Dean flicks his eyes between Sam’s, searching. “I’m sorry,” Dean says, nodding his head as his eyes drop to Sam’s parted pink lips and back, “you’re right. I’m messed up Sam,” he shakes his head, “and it’s not, it’s not like before, I’m not on anything. It’s my head,” he swallows as he closes his eyes again, “it won’t shut the fuck up.”

“Come to bed,” Sam says again as he lays his hand on Dean’s forearm, “I’ll suck your dick and then you can try to get some sleep.”

Dean lets out a huff of a laugh as he moves to get up, “you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Sam insists as Dean stands, “who knows, it might help.”

March 12, 1996

Dean gets a call from Sean around two telling him to come over. His stomach drops as he hangs up the phone, something feels off but he can’t say no.

When he gets to Sean’s, he’s let in by a man he’s never seen before and there is another strange man sitting on the couch next to Sean. Dean nods at them and stands by the door waiting for his instructions.

“Take your clothes off, Dean,” Sean says with a smile.

Dean looks from Sean to the man on the couch to the man standing next to him by the door, then back to Sean. Sean nods at him and Dean strips out of his clothes and cups himself, trying to shield something from the hungry gazes of the strange men. He feels uneasy and he wants to run.

“Go on and show them how pretty you are,” Sean says and Dean drops his hands to his sides. “You ever seen a prettier cock before?” Sean asks as the men take him in with smiles on their faces, the one on the couch turns to Sean and leans in, Dean can’t hear what he says to him, but Sean tells Dean to turn around and bend over, so he does. After the men get their fill, Sean stands and motions for Dean to follow him to the usual bedroom and Dean sits on the bed, ready for Sean to give him his fix, so he can pass out and it will all be over quickly.

But Sean hands him the tub of Vaseline from the bedside table instead.

“Go ahead and get yourself ready,” he says then turns to leave.

“Wait,” Dean stops him, “what’s going on?”

“You’ll get your stuff after, I want you conscious for this,” Sean say as he reaches out to stroke Dean’s cheek.

“What is ‘this’?” Dean asks as he looks up at Sean, turning the Vaseline tub over in his hands.

“Me and my two friends out there are going to take turns with you,” Sean says with a smile. Dean starts to protest but Sean shushes him, “you’ll get $300 if you’re a good boy for us.” Sean pats him on the shoulder then leaves the room and shuts the door behind him. Dean wishes he didn’t need that money so badly, but who ever gets what they wish for anyway. He lays back on the bed and opens the tub, he gathers some on his fingers and spreads his legs wide. He fingers himself open the best he can then gets on his knees and rests his head against the pillow as he waits. His body trembling with nerves as he fights back the nausea.

He hears the door open as Sean leads the men inside. Dean thinks about what Sean said, about being good for them, but what if he can’t take it and breaks down. What if he doesn’t get anything for this. Dean closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing, then reaches behind himself with both hands and spreads himself open for them. He hears one of them mutter something, then then all too familiar sounds of belts being unbuckled and zippers being lowered. He doesn’t know which of the two men is first, but one of them is sliding their thumb into him, rubbing his slick rim. The touch is gentle and slow and in a fucked up way, it relaxes Dean a little.

Dean feels every slow inch as the man eases into him. He drops his hands back to his sides as the man slides back and sets up a rhythm. Dean tries hard to forget he’s being fucked by a stranger for money, he tries not to be sick. He breathes through his nose as he tries to relax, then the man hits just right and pushes a moan out of him. For a second, Dean is horrified at himself, then it happens again. He can feel himself getting hard and it makes him want to throw up. As the man starts fucking him faster, Dean bites onto the pillow to keep himself quiet.

He’s never felt more disgusted with himself. The man pushes into him and holds tight as he comes, filling him in waves. Dean opens his mouth with a gasp, he tries to steady his breathing as the man pulls out of him. Before he has a chance to think, the next man is sliding into him. He can feel the first man’s come sliding down his skin as the second one fucks it out of him. His body pulses out a bead of precome onto the sheets and he wants to die, he wants them to kill him right here because some sick, fucked up part of his body likes this.

The man picks up his pace and Dean feels the pressure low in his gut building. He’s whimpering into the pillow with every thrust, tears streaming down his cheeks as he tries to fight it. He holds on as long as he can but then the man runs his hand slowly down Dean's spine as he groans out "come on now, that's a good boy," he Dean tips over the edge and spills onto the sheets at the words. His body goes lax under the man and he feels hazy and far away as he is filled again. He feels like he’s dreaming as Sean takes his turn. He’s all but out of it by the time Sean pulls out of him, then Sean is sinking a needle into his vein.

“Here,” Sean says as he throws the money onto the bed next to Dean, “the extra hundred is for blowing your load,” he walks to the door and stops, “you sure did me proud, boy.”

Dean drinks himself stupid in the dark driveway of their house. He feels filthy, like maybe he’ll never feel clean again. But at least he’ll be able to pay some past due bills. As he sits alone in the car, some dark corner of his fucked up brain decides the only thing that can help him is the one pure and good thing in his life. He needs Sam.

Sam is sound asleep as Dean stumbles into their room. Dean scratches at the fresh mark on his arm as he finishes the last of the bottle in his hand. He kicks off his boots then strips out of the rest of his clothes. Sam wakes to Dean crawling on top of him. He pulls the blanket down and kisses Sam’s neck as he slides his hand into Sam’s pajamas and rubs against him.

“Dean, quit,” Sam says as he moves his head away, trying to find Dean’s eyes.

“C’mon, baby,” Dean moans as he rolls his hips down, rubbing his hard dick against Sam's hip. Sam closes his eyes, about to give in, but something isn’t right. Dean is fucked up again, Sam can smell it on him and he’s pissed.

“Get off me,” Sam groans as he tries to push Dean onto his side of the bed, “I don’t want to.”

“Sure,” Dean says as he moves down Sam’s body. He pulls Sam’s pajama pants down and wraps his mouth around Sam’s dick.

“Stop it!” Sam yells as he kicks at Dean.

“Fuck you, Sam,” Dean growls as he collapses onto his side of the bed.

Sam wakes up an hour later, Dean is lying next to him, naked and shivering. Sam gets up and grabs a spare blanket, he covers Dean and tucks the blanket under him, then climbs back into their bed and falls back asleep.

Dean is gone when he wakes up the next morning.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

February 4, 1997

“Rise and shine, sleepy head,” Dean hears Sam say just before bright, blinding sunlight fills the room as he throws open the curtains. Dean rolls over to his other side and pulls the blanket back up to his chin, “come on, it’s 2:30. It’s a beautiful winter day outside,” Sam says as he climbs onto the bed. “Let's go do something,” he says as he lays against Dean’s back and wraps his arm around him. He nibbles gently at Dean’s earlobe and Dean pulls the blanket up higher to block him.

“You go ahead,” he says from under the blanket. The last thing he wants to do right now is leave this bed. He closes his eyes and tries to shut his brain off.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asks as he sits up, “are you sick?” Dean doesn’t answer. Maybe if he doesn’t say anything, Sam will take the hint and let him be. Sam climbs off the bed and walks around to Dean’s side, the mattress dips as he sits down, “do you need me to go get you something?”

More silence.

“Okay,” Sam draws out the word, “well, I’m going to go get something to eat, do you want anything?”

“No,” Dean answers, then adds “thank you,” so Sam won’t think he’s mad at him, he doesn’t need to deal with that.

“Did I do something?” Sam asks and Dean sighs in frustration, there it is.

“No, Sam, please,” Dean groans as he turns over away from Sam again.

“Okay,” Sam says as he stands, “fine,” there’s a pause while he gathers his things, “well, I’ll be back,” he says at the door and Dean sighs again.

He hears the door to their room shut and wishes Sam would have closed the curtains again before he left. The sun is shining bright through the window right where he is trying to sleep. He throws the blanket off himself and climbs out of the bed.

He walks over to the curtains and tries to slam them shut but one sticks on it’s railing, he pulls again, harder this time and it’s still stuck. “Fucking close,” he growls as he pulls it as hard as he can and immediately hears a crack as the railing snaps. “Fuck!” he yells as he yanks the curtain off the broken railing and tries to rip the fabric but it doesn’t tear. He throws it to the ground and kicks it across the room, he sits down on the bed, fuming.

After a moment of trying to calm himself he gives up and walks to the bathroom, he stops in front of the toilet and pulls his dick out. He closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, listening to the sound of piss hitting water. He shakes off the last few drops and tucks himself back in, adjusting his dick so it’s sitting right, then flushes the toilet.

He turns on the hot water and sticks his hands under the cold water coming out, he stares down at it as it runs over his hands. It doesn’t look real, like he’s watching it through a TV screen and he doesn’t realize he hasn’t moved until the water starts to burn his hands and he pulls them back. He turns on the cold tap and grabs the soap off the little dish, lathers up, then rinses.

He falls back into the bed, facing away from the half covered window and pulls the blanket back over his ear, leaving his face uncovered so he can breathe. He closes his eyes and tries to will himself to sleep, but all the bullshit comes flooding in. Dean sits up and puts his head in his hands. As his mind is racing, dark thoughts and memories swimming around his head and he feels himself start to shake as he looks at the ceiling and fights back the tears starting to break the surface.

Fuck.

He looks over to the bedside table, there’s a half empty bottle of tequila sitting under the lamp. He reaches out and brings it over to him. It hits his empty stomach and immediately turns, he drinks until he’s gasping for breath. The nightmares were becoming less frequent as the time passed, but he still had trouble sleeping. His thoughts kept him awake most of the night. He just needs to pass out. He drinks until he finishes the bottle as he fights with all he has his urge to go out and find a fix, then lays back down, his head spinning and his hands are shaking.

After a while, the door to their room swings open and Sam steps in, “what happened?” Dean hears Sam ask as he shuts the door behind him. He sets the paper bags of fast food on the table and picks up the curtain off the floor. He turns back to the window to look at the broken railing, “you didn’t have to break it,” he says and Dean doesn’t answer.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam says as he sits back on the bed, “you haven’t left the room since we got here, what, two days ago?” Dean feels Sam lay his hand on his side, “and you haven’t eaten anything,” Sam’s hand rubs gentle circles against him through the blanket, “you need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry,” Dean says as he starts to feel nauseous. He hears Sam pick up the bottle from the bedside table.

“I see you hit this while I was gone,” Sam says as he sets the bottle back down, “is it your head again?” Sam asks and his voice is so soft it breaks Dean’s heart.

Dean moves to sit up and all at once his stomach is in his throat. He covers his mouth with his hand as he scrambles off the bed and stumbles to the bathroom. He drops to his knees as he empties his stomach into the toilet.

“Hey,” Sam eases from behind him, “hey, you’re okay,” he says as he runs his fingers through Dean’s hair. His stomach heaves again and he spits the last of it into the toilet. He sits back against the bathroom wall and looks at the floor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asks as he sits down next to him.

“No,” Dean shakes his head, sniffing back the snot running out of his nose as he crosses his legs, “not really.”

“Okay,” Sam says as he scoots over so their legs are resting against each other, “you know I’m here to listen when you do, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, “thank you.” He lays his hand on Sam’s thigh and pats him gently. Sam leans over and lays his head down in Dean’s lap. Dean looks down at him as he brushes Sam’s hair away from his face and pets his head.

“You’re safe with me,” Sam says and Dean swallows. He meets Sam’s eyes and Sam offers him a soft smile, “you can relax.” Sam's words cut to the core of him and he swallows back the wave of emotions threatening to break through his walls.

He takes in a deep breath and nods, “yeah, I know.” He takes a hold of Sam’s hand and kisses the back of it, “you and me against the world,” he says, laying his cheek against Sam’s knuckles, “right?”

“Right,” Sam says, “now get your shit together and come eat, the food is getting cold.”

Dean can’t help but smile at that, the kid has a point. He ruffles Sam’s hair, spreading it across Sam’s eyes as Sam swats at his hands.

“Hey!” Sam laughs as he tries to sit up, “knock it off!”

“You’re beautiful,” Dean says as he stills his hands. Sam looks back up at him, brushing his hair from his eyes and Dean feels his stomach jump.

“Shut up,” Sam smiles. Dean can see his cheeks turning a deep shade of pink and he feels like maybe there’s hope for him after all. Maybe he can get through this.

March 20, 1996, one year ago.

After the last time, something inside Dean snapped.

Sean won’t shoot him up until after anymore if at all, says he like it better that way. In the moment, Dean’s mind is gone, shut off front reality in a protective space of nothingness until it’s over. He doesn’t even bother closing his eyes anymore, he stares at the wall or water stained ceiling as he lays there, quiet and unmoving, taking whatever or whoever Sean subjects him to.

Some sessions are worse than others. On those days, hot tears stream down his cheeks as his body reacts autonomously to the pain, or more rarely, pleasure. Both twist into the same sick physical sensation but his mind feels nothing, he’s dead inside. Afterward he buries it deep down as he cleans himself, going through the motions robotically until he can lose himself again in a bottle or willing body and forget everything.

His abused body aches as he silently scrubs the remaining lube mixed with come and shit off his skin with a damp washcloth in the dark bathroom of Sean’s house. When he’s finished he drops it into the sink and gathers up his things from the bed. He walks passed the people in the living room without saying a word and out the front door. As he makes his way down the walkway toward his car, he hears the front door open and close again. He doesn’t stop walking.

“Hey,” he hears a voice come from behind him. He stops for a moment before turning around, the tall man who is always around is walking toward him. Dean stares at the ground as the man steps into his space, he reaches up and brushes the pad of his thumb gently against Dean’s split bottom lip. Dean keeps his eyes on the ground as the man leans in and presses his lips to Dean’s. Without a thought, Dean automatically opens up and kisses him back. He lifts his arms and cups the man’s face as he pulls him in, moving with him as the man licks into his mouth. Going through the motions, doing what he thinks the man wants. Satisfied with Dean’s reaction, the man pulls back, licks his lips then wipes his mouth on the back of his hand with a grin.

“Call me sometime,” the man says as he slips a piece of paper into Dean’s hand, his fingers lingering on Dean’s for a moment. Dean turns the paper over in his hand as the man heads back toward the house.

“What’s your name?” Dean asks as he looks up and the man stops.

“Neil,” he says with a smile then disappears into the house.

...

“What are you doing up?” Dean asks in a gravelly voice as he walks into their house late that night.

“I need to talk to you,” Sam says as he watches Dean carefully.

“Can it wait? I have some stuff I need to do,” Dean asks as he heads for the hallway with his head down, not waiting for an answer. He doesn’t want Sam to see him like this.

“No, Dean,” Sam says as he stands, “it can’t.” Dean stops and turns around. Sam can see how dead Dean’s eyes look in the light of the lamp between them and it turns his stomach.

“Fine, what?” Dean asks, looking defeated.

“You aren’t you anymore, what’s going on?” Sam asks. His voice shakes, throat tightening as tears threaten to break the surface.

“Sam, you wouldn’t understand even if I wanted to tell you,” Dean says, unable to look at him, “I’m fine, Sammy, just don’t worry about it, okay?”

“No it’s not okay!” Sam yells, unable to keep it in anymore, “you’re not fine, Dean! And fuck you for saying that.” He wipes away the tears forming in his eyes and Dean huffs out a laugh as he looks at the floor and Sam snaps. “I hate you!” Sam screams.

The back of Dean’s hand connects with Sam’s face before Sam sees it coming.

“You hate me?” Dean yells back, stepping into Sam’s space. Sam stares at him, frozen with shock as he presses his hand to the burning spot on his cheek. “I am killing myself trying to support you, trying to work and keep this house, trying to keep you alive!” Uncontrollable tears start to stream down Sam’s cheeks.

“Hey,” Dean says, his voice suddenly soft, “hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, sweetheart.” He reaches up to brush Sam’s bangs from his eyes and Sam flinches at the touch. He smacks Dean’s hand away from him then pushes past him as he runs for the bathroom.

“C’mon, Sam, don’t be like that,” Dean pleads as he reaches out to grab Sam’s shoulder, “I’m sorry.” Sam slams the bathroom door in Dean’s face and locks it behind him. Dean is quiet for a moment as he rests his head against the door and closes his eyes. “I’m messed up, Sam. You know I would never hit you,” he says quietly, “please come out.”

April 8, 1996

Dean knocks on the front door of Sean’s house earlier than usual, there isn’t an answer. He closes his eyes in frustration, he ran out last night and now he’s pissed he didn’t come by right then. As he waits, he pulls his hood back and shakes the raindrops from his coat, then knocks again, hoping someone inside just didn’t hear him.

“Who is it?” A voice asks from the other side of the door after a few minutes and Dean answers. He sniffs back his running nose and waits as they unlock the door and open it for him. He pushes into the dim room and looks around for Sean.

“He’s not here,” Neil says as he shuts the door behind him.

“Fuck,” Dean says under his breath as he slides his hand down his face, “I’m empty.”

“I can help you out,” Neil says as he looks him over, “but not here.”

“I can’t pay you,” Dean groans, “that’s why Sean-” he trails off, gesturing to the bedroom door as he drops onto the couch.

“Yeah, I know,” Neil says as he grabs his coat off the hook by the door, “I can help you out, just not here,” he repeats as he opens the door again.

Dean looks at him for a moment, standing in the open doorway as he waits, then stands. He leads Neil out to the car and drives back home. He parks in the driveway and kills the engine. Rain pounds against the metal and glass around them as Neil pulls a kit out of his pocket. He hands Dean a tie as he readies a needle. Dean pulls off his wet coat half off, exposing one arm, and rolls his sleeve up, then ties off and waits.

Neil slides the needle into his vein and Dean closes his eyes, melting into the warm calm that washes through him immediately. Neil unties him and Dean lays his head back against the seat as Neil ties himself off. He doesn’t know how long he was out for, but it feels like days when he comes to.

He turns his head toward Neil, “what do you want for it?” he asks without opening his eyes. He already knows the answer.

They barely make it through the front door of the house before Neil is on him. He pushes Dean up against the closed door as he presses himself against him, kissing him hungrily. Without a thought Dean cups his face, pulling him in, breathing hard through his nose as he kisses him back. He shuts down, his mind empty and body running on autopilot as Neil breaks their kiss and drops to his knees in front of him.

Dean stares at a crack in the plaster on the far wall of the living room as Neil pops the buttons of his fly open and pulls his soft dick out. "Beautiful," Neil breathes out as he rubs his fingers down his length, "I always wanted to taste you, but Sean never shared," Neil says as he guides him to his mouth and licks him gently, humming contentedly to himself as he works. "I've imagined you a lot, Dean," he says then sucks him down then comes back up for air, "wanted you for a long time," he continues against Dean's skin.

"You gonna keep talkin'," Dean groans, balling his hands into fists, "or are you going to make me come?"

Neil lets out a laugh and goes back to work. Dean closes his eyes as he drops his head back against the door, letting out shaky breaths as his body begins to react to the stimulation. He loses track of time, before he knows it Neil is kissing him again. Tasting himself on Neil's tongue turns his stomach and he wants to push him away, tell him to fuck off, but he owes him.

“Fuck me,” Neil sighs against his lips as he strokes his fingertips along Dean’s aching cock gently.

Dean grabs a hold of Neil’s hand and leads him down to the end of the hallway, to the bedroom he shares with Sam. Once inside, Neil is on him again and Dean kisses him back, performing automatically as they strip out of their wet clothes. Neil steps back from him with a grin as he looks Dean up and down.

“God damn,” Neil breathes out as he takes Dean’s naked body in, eyes lingering on his flushed cock. “Ain’t you just the prettiest thing.”

Dean swallows hard as he looks at the stain on the carpet under Neil’s feet, the one from the grape juice Sam spilled there months ago. “You want it or not?” Dean growls, grabbing a hold of his cock, shaking it in his hand as he looks up at Neil, unwilling to let his thoughts drift to Sam, knowing full well he’ll break down.

Neil licks his lips as he nods, Dean watches as he climbs onto the bed and drops down to all fours in front of him. He walks to the dresser and digs through the top drawer until he finds the lube and condoms he keeps there. He tosses them onto the bed next to Neil and climbs onto the bed behind him. He closes himself off to the reality of the situation as he robotically goes through the motions of lubing up and prepping Neil.

...

Sam sees the car parked in the driveway as he turns the corner to their street. His heart flutters with a tiny twinge of hopeful excitement as he walks toward the house. As bad as things have become, as hurtful as Dean has been, he can’t help but want things to work out. He needs his happy ending and he needs it with Dean.

Sam unlocks the front door and as he opens it he hears the unmistakable sound of Dean fucking someone coming from their bedroom. He sees red as he slams the door behind him and throws his backpack onto the floor. He storms through the living room to the hallway, leaving wet footprints behind him. The sounds get louder as he closes the distance to their bedroom door, the low grunts and rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin twist his stomach into sick knots as he turns the doorknob.

He stops cold when he sees Dean on his knees, pounding into a man in front of him. Without a second thought he grabs the lamp on the dresser next to him and pulls the cord from the wall. He throws it at them as hard as he can, it flies past Dean’s face and lands on the floor with a loud crash. The man on the bed lets out a pained noise as Dean jumps back, pulling out too quickly and losing his balance. He hits the floor at the foot of the bed hard as the man gets up on his knees and looks around confused until his eyes land on Sam, red faced and standing in the doorway.

“What the fuck, kid? Get out of here!” The man yells as he steps off the bed and moves to push Sam out of the room. Sam punches him in the balls, knocking the wind out of him as he doubles over. The man straightens as Sam looks over to Dean, and before he can move, the man punches him in the jaw, sending him to the floor. Dean jumps up and tackles Neil, he straddles his chest and he feels cartilage crack under his knuckles as he connects his fist to his face again and again. As Neil struggles under him, he wraps his hands around his neck and squeezes.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice rings through the emptiness, bringing him back to reality, “Dean, stop!” Dean blinks his eyes as he looks down at his hands around Neil’s neck, watching him struggle for breath beneath him then suddenly lets go, his body shaking with adrenaline.

Neil pushes him off onto the floor next to him, coughing and gasping for air as he stands. “Fuck you, man,” Neil chokes out as he spits blood onto the floor next to Dean, “you owe me.”

Dean is panting on the floor next to the bed and Sam can see the panicked look in Dean’s eyes as Neil gathers up his things and leaves. Sam kneels down next to Dean and lays his hand on Dean’s heaving chest, trying to calm him. Dean is shaking under his touch as he looks down at Sam’s hand and then up to Sam, meeting his eyes. The way he looks at him breaks Sam’s heart and all Sam wants to do is to make it right.

“You can do it to me instead,” he offers quietly, just above a whisper, “I want it, Dean.”

“Sam,” Dean groans, closing his eyes as he lays back against the carpet.

“Please?” Sam says as he lays his head on Dean’s chest, feeling Dean’s racing heartbeat under him.

“No, Sam,” Dean says as he covers his eyes with his arm, “stop.”

“Why?” Sam asks, “you do it with everyone else,” his voice breaks as tears form in his eyes.

“God, Sam,” Dean groans as he lifts his arm and looks up at him. He reaches out and cups Sam’s face, carefully tracing over the red mark on his jaw where Neil hit him, a tear rolls down Sam’s cheek as he leans into the touch. “You’re just a kid,” Dean says as he wipes the tear away with his thumb, “I can’t.”

“I’m almost as old as you were when you did it with Cheryl, remember?” Sam asks. He remembers that night perfectly, Dean got up from bed to go to the bathroom and was gone too long. When he climbed back into bed with him something about him seemed off. Sam asked what was wrong and Dean told him he had sex with Cheryl, dad’s girlfriend at the time, on the couch while dad slept, passed out drunk in bed. He told him he could never say anything to anyone about it, ever.

He could smell her on Dean and it made him sick.

“That’s the problem,” Dean says quietly as he closes his eyes again.

...

The cops show up at the house about an hour later. Sam hides, crying quietly as he watches them handcuff Dean from the closet. Dean is booked on aggravated assault charges and locked up in the city jail awaiting sentencing. The withdrawals start to get bad the next day. It becomes so unbearable that on the third day he is taken to Lawrence Memorial and handcuffed to a bed to be monitored through it.

He feels like he’s dying.

As the days pass the physical effects slowly become more bearable as the detox takes its course, on the sixth day he is cleared for release back to the jail. He spends almost two weeks locked up all together before Neil drops the charges and he is released.

He’s back at Sean’s that night.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

April 7, 1997*
Dean lays on his back on their bed, studying the brown water stain on the ceiling until he has every inch memorized. He flicks the ash off the end of his seventh cigarette in a row, trying to keep his mind off how long Sam has been gone. The gas station down the road should have been no more than a ten minute walk from the motel, but it’s now an hour later and he still isn’t back.

“Dammit, Sam,” he groans. His mind racing through the worst scenarios as he crushes his half-smoked cigarette out in the ashtray and grabs his keys. It’s passed 8pm and it would be dark soon, finding Sam then would be next to impossible, he waited long enough.

His heart is racing, pounding hard against his ribs as he drives, telling himself Sam is probably just sitting on the curb, finishing a cherry slushie like nothing. He pulls into the parking lot and slams the car into park. Sam is nowhere to be seen. He searches the store top to bottom, even asks the disinterested clerk who is no help, which just pisses him off more.

Around the back, he checks between the dumpsters, calling Sam’s name. Panic starts to set in, he can feel his hands shaking as he bangs on the locked door to the bathroom, “Sam?” he calls out, “are you in there?”

“Fuck off,” a voice that isn’t Sam’s tells him.

Shaking and out of options, he climbs back into the car and leaves. He drives as slowly as he can without holding traffic up, keeping his eyes open for any sign of Sam. He grips the steering wheel as he searches so tight his hands start to cramp. As the sun begins to set over the buildings, he swallows against his tight throat as nausea sets in. “Fuck,” he says under his breath, slamming his palm down against the steering wheel, “come on, Sam.”

About two blocks from the motel, he finally spots him, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chin against a chain link fence surrounding a baseball diamond. He lets out a shaky breath of relief as he parks, illuminating Sam with the headlights.

“What the fuck, Sam?” Dean asks, his voice sounding angrier than he meant it to. As he gets closer, he realizes Sam’s shoulders are shaking, his head is buried in his crossed arms and Dean feels a jolt of panic again.

“Hey,” he says as he kneels down next to him, “hey, what happened, are you okay?”

“Go away.” He hears Sam say in a frail voice, muffled against the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Sam,” Dean says again as he reaches out and lays a hand on Sam’s arm.

“Don’t touch me,” Sam says as he pulls his arm away, his voice more insistent this time.

“Hey!” Dean snaps, pulling Sam’s arm away from his face, “look at me.”

Sam finally lifts his head and Dean’s stomach sinks. There is a deep purple bruise blooming beneath the skin around Sam’s left eye under long black trails of mascara running down his cheeks. His mouth and cheek is smeared with bright pink lipstick and there’s a scrape on his chin.

“Who did this to you?” Dean asks, frantic now.

“Dean, I-” Sam chokes out as Dean grabs hold of his shoulders.

“Who, Sam?” he asks again, shaking Sam to get his attention, “who the fuck did this?”

“I don’t know,” Sam cries, “just some guys.” He wipes his eyes, smearing long black smudges across face.

“What guys,” Dean growls, he’ll fucking kill them, “tell me.”

“Some guys behind the gas station-” Sam gasps for breath between sobs, “I’m sorry, Dean,” he sniffs, “I shouldn’t have put it on, I’m sorry I thought if I put it on after I left you wouldn’t-”

“I don’t give a fuck about the makeup, Sam,” Dean urges, “I want to know where they went.”

“They’re gone,” Sam chokes out, “I don’t know, they left after, after-” he breaks down into tears again.

“Hey, hey,” Dean soothes as he lays his hand on Sam’s shoulder, “hey, I’m not mad at you, Sam,” he says, “okay?” Sam nods as he wipes his nose on his sleeve. “I’m pissed at myself, I should have been there, and I’m fuckin’ pissed as hell at them,” he pauses, “but not you, okay?” Dean takes a seat on the grass next to Sam and wraps his arm around him. “What happened?”

“They, they jumped me when I left the store,” Sam sniffs, “they dragged me behind the building by the dumpsters and called me a faggot.” Tears start to roll down Sam’s cheeks again as he talks. “One of them asked if I suck dick for money, he tried to stick his fingers in my mouth so I bit him and he hit me.”

Dean nods along as he listens, seething as he clenches his teeth together.

“They were all laughing, I was scared.” Sam’s voice shakes as he speaks and Dean snaps.

“I woulda fucking killed them,” he says shaking his head as he looks out toward the street, “I would have torn them apart for touching you like that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam says as he wipes his nose again.

“Did they do anything else to you?” Dean asks as his chest tightens, dreading the answer.

“They stole all my stuff and told me I better start running,” Sam swallows, “so I ran but I tripped, that’s how I got this,” he says, pointing to the scrape on his chin.

“Dammit, Sam,” Dean says as he pulls Sam closer against his side, “I’m so sorry. I should have been there.”

“It’s okay,” Sam sighs as he lays his head against Dean’s shoulder.

“Why didn’t you come back home?” Dean asks.

“I was scared, and I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Sam says as he wipes his eyes again.

“Because of the makeup, or what?” Dean asks, tipping Sam’s chin up to look at the mess on his face.

“Yeah,” Sam nods, avoiding Dean’s eyes.

“Sam,” Dean offers a small smile, “I don’t care if you want to wear makeup. I don’t know why you would think you had to hide that from me.”

“It was stupid,” Sam says as he tries to wipe the pink stain of lipstick off his mouth with the sleeve of his sweatshirt pulled over his hand, “I shouldn’t have tried it out.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s something you like,” Dean insists, finding Sam’s eyes as Sam finally looks at him. “I bet you looked real pretty before those assholes messed it all up,” Dean says as he brushes Sam’s bangs away from his face.

“Thanks,” Sam sniffs and Dean sees the barest hint of a smile spread on Sam’s lips.

“Will you wear it again, so I can see?” Dean asks.

“Sure,” Sam nods, “okay.”

“You're still pretty," Dean says with a smile as he nudges Sam, “even when you’re a snotty mess.” Sam laughs and turns his head away from Dean and it makes Dean’s heart flutter. “You’re beautiful, Sam, no matter what.”

“Thanks,” Sam says again, meeting Dean’s eyes.

“Come here,” Dean grins as he leans in and Sam meets him halfway, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. “Now let’s go home.”

Back at the motel, Dean helps Sam wash his face, dabbing carefully at the scrape on his chin as Sam sits on the bathroom counter.

“You did the right thing,” Dean says, leaning in to examine the bruise, “biting that prick.”

“But that’s why he hit me,” Sam says as he pulls his eyebrows together.

“Yeah, but you showed them that if they fucked around with you that you were going to fight,” Dean takes a step back and grabs onto Sam’s shoulders. “If anything like that ever happens again for whatever reason, you fight back, do you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Sam nods, looking Dean over, “okay, Dean.”

Dean hopes Sam understands. He hopes Sam will never be in a situation like that again, or worse, but he hopes if he is he’ll do what Dean couldn’t, he’ll fight.

“There’s a Godzilla marathon on tonight, what do you say we order some pizza?” Dean asks, giving Sam a soft smile.

“Okay,” Sam smiles back as he nods, “yeah.”

April 18, 1997

“Do you ever think about mom?” Sam asks as he picks up a few fries out of the paper tray sitting between them on the curb. The question comes out of nowhere and hits Dean harder than he would have thought. He takes a sip off his chocolate milk shake as he watches a group of people head for the door to the retro fast food place behind them.

“Sometimes,” Dean admits after a quiet moment. It had been a long while if he thought about it, probably years. He could barely remember what she looked like anymore, but he still missed her like crazy.

“What was she like?” Sam asks as he sets his strawberry milkshake down on the pavement between his sneakers.

“She was sweet,” Dean says, “and full of love, like you.” He looks over and sees Sam smile as he looks down. “She loved you so much, she was crazy about you.” He feels his chest tighten at the memories. He never told Sam what really happened to her, that she passed out drunk with a lit cigarette and burned up with the rest of their old home, thought it would be better that way.

“I wish I could remember her,” Sam sighs as he picks at some loose rocks.

“You kind of look like her, you know?” Dean says as he nudges Sam with his elbow.

“Really?” Sam asked, looking over at him with a smile. All their family photos went up in flames when Sam was six months old, he never even got to see her face.

“Yeah, a little bit,” Dean smiles back, “not like me, I look like dad.” He lets out a deep breath as he thinks about how rough it was growing up with John. They’re both quiet for a moment as Dean grabs a few fries and shoves them into his mouth. “Dad was better then, he was happier,” he says as he looks over at Sam again, “not like he was when you were little,” Dean pauses, “he was messed up after.”

“I would be messed up if I lost you,” Sam says as he looks over to him, “so I get it, I don’t blame him.” Dean nods, thinking about how if he lost Sam he would put a bullet in his head, but he doesn’t mention it.

“I don’t blame him either,” Dean says, “I think he did his best.” John was a drunk and it eventually killed him. He was distant and cold, but he worked hard to provide what he could for them. He gave them a home and Dean knew he cared, even if he didn’t show it very often. Because of that, Dean grew up eager to please and hungry for affection and would seek it out anywhere he could. When he was ten, it lead him straight into the predatory grasp of his friend’s father who, Dean realized later, molested him repeatedly over the course of that summer. But at the time, he didn’t see it like that, he craved the attention from this new father figure and confused the abuse for love. It messed him up and caused daddy issues he still isn’t quite ready to admit even to himself.

He never told Sam that either.

“I do too,” Sam says, bringing Dean out of his thoughts. He nods and reaches for more fries as Sam licks some of the whipped cream stuck to the plastic lid of his milkshake. “What do you think-” Sam trails off as a loud wolf whistle catches their attention. Down the street two women, not much older than Dean are walking side by side down the sidewalk toward the bar across the street. They’re dressed in jackets and shorts cut high on their hips, Dean thinks they must be freezing. There is a blue car driving slowly alongside them, he guesses that’s where the whistle came from.

“Fuck off!” he hears one of the women yell as she flips off the man in the passenger seat.

“Come on, baby,” one of them men says loud enough for them to hear, “what else can that filthy mouth do?” The women keep walking, neither acknowledging the man’s question.

“Assholes,” Sam says as he chews on some fries, “I hate guys like that.”

The two women finally make it to the bar and the blue car parks in the parking lot next door. Two men get out, one wearing green plaid and jeans, the other in a white t-shirt under a denim jacket. Dean watches as they both head for the bar’s back door.

“Hey,” Dean nudges Sam with his elbow, “I have an idea, come on.” He picks up the rest of their fries and dumps them in the trash along with the what was left of his milkshake, then gestures with his head for Sam to follow him.

He leads Sam across the street toward the parking lot where they find the blue car. After checking if anyone is watching, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his knife.
“We’ll show them,” he says, smiling at Sam as he flicks it open. A smile spreads on Sam’s lips around his straw as Dean kneels next to the back left tire. He stabs his knife in and wiggles it as air gushes out then works the knife down until there’s a gash a few inches long in the rubber and moves onto the next one.

He’s on his third tire when someone comes walking toward the car a few spaces away. Dean looks up at Sam, still watching and nods. “Come on,” he says and they walk back to their car, parked down the street. “You wait here,” he says as he opens the passenger door, “I’ll be back, okay?”

“Wait,” Sam asks as he climbs in, “where are you going?”

“Just be ready to start the car when I come back out,” Dean says as he shuts the door behind him.

“Dean!” he hears Sam call out after him as he walks toward the bar but he doesn't turn back. Once inside, he scans the crowded room for the two men and spots them sitting on stools at the end of the bar. He walks over and takes the one in plaid’s drink off the bar and before the man can react, Dean throws it in his face and follows it with a punch to the man’s throat. The man chokes, stumbling back as he grabs hold of his neck and gasps for air.

The one in the denim jacket takes a moment to realize what happened but then he’s coming at Dean. Dean swings but the man ducks and counters with a fist to Dean’s gut. Dean chokes out a breath then laughs as he stands back up. His heart is racing with excitement, he feels alive and he can’t help but smile as he struggles for breath. As the man comes toward him again, Dean gets a solid hit in on the man’s face, but before Dean sees him, the man in plaid gets a hit in on Dean’s jaw and he stumbles back.

“Hey!” he hears the bartender yell over the commotion, “take it outside!”

Dean lunges forward, knocking the man in plaid to the floor. He swings again, pounding his fist into the man’s face as the man reaches for Dean’s neck. The man in the denim jacket pulls Dean off his friend and slams his head against one of the bar stools. Dean stumbles to his feet, his head pounding as he grabs one of the empty beer bottles off the bar and swings it against the man in the denim jacket’s head. The man stumbles back into another man standing at the bar watching the fight.

The man in plaid gets up again and wipes away the blood streaming out of his nose. “You’re dead, motherfucker,” he says as he moves toward Dean again and Dean lands one last blow with a kick to the man’s balls and heads toward the exit followed closely by the man in the denim jacket.

When he reaches the street, Dean laughs as he turns back to the man, stretching his arms out wide as he spits blood out onto the pavement. “Come on,” he says with a grin as he hears the engine of their car start, “what are you going to do?” The door to the bar swings open and the man in plaid rushes out. The man in the denim jacket turns to look and Dean takes off running toward the car.

“Hey!” one of them yells behind him as he runs. When he reaches the car, he gets in and shifts into drive without stopping. He watches the men run toward the parking lot in his side view mirror and laughs as he turns back to the road ahead and speeds away.

He lets out a loud howl of excitement as he turns up the stereo and hits the gas, the car rumbles as it picks up speed. His heart is pounding in his chest as he turns to look at Sam with a bloody grin and Sam smiles back. He reaches for the pack of smokes sitting on the dash with his bruised and swollen hand and pulls one out with his teeth then throws them back down and grabs the zippo sitting next to them. With a quick back and forth flick on his jeans, he lights it and brings it to the cigarette. When it lights, he tosses it back on the dash and takes a long drag as he settles back again the seat.

His hands are shaking as he grips the steering wheel, holding the cigarette between two fingers. His body is buzzing with adrenaline running through his veins, he’s coursing with electric energy and it’s going straight to his dick. He reaches down with his free hand and palms at it, shifting his weight as he adjusts it into a more comfortable position.

“Fuck, I feel good,” Dean says as he taps the ash off in the ashtray.

“Yeah, well you look like shit,” he hears Sam laugh.

“You should see the other guys,” Dean grins as he looks over at Sam.

“Shut up,” Sam says, trying not to smile, “you’re an idiot.” Dean lets out a laugh as Sam reaches over and touches the bruise Dean knows is forming on his jaw by now gingerly.

“I wish you wouldn’t do this,” Sam says as he looks at him more closely, “I really like your face the way it is.”

“You got a crush on me or something, kid?” Dean asks, glancing over at Sam with a grin as Sam’s fingers move to the cut on his lip, the softness of Sam’s touch makes his stomach flutter. He rubs his palm down against his dick now straining in his jeans, trying to shift it or relieve some of the pressure and swallows hard at the touch, his body on edge, aching for relief.

“That’s cute,” Sam says as he moves his fingertips over Dean’s swollen lip, “you’re very funny.”

“I’m hilarious,” Dean says with a smile then purses his lips and kisses Sam’s fingertips. He lifts his hand from his dick and takes hold of Sam’s hand as Sam watches. He guides Sam’s first two fingers between his parted lips and slides his tongue between them. With that, Sam leans in and catches Dean’s mouth with his own, sliding his tongue in alongside his fingers as he drags them out against Dean’s bottom lip. Dean closes his eyes, losing his grip on the situation for a moment as he kisses Sam back, then looks up at the road and jerks the steering wheel to the right to get back in their lane. He hits the breaks as he pulls off to the side, the tires spitting gravel as they come to a stop.

Dean kisses Sam again, hungry for more as he shifts into park. He snuffs out the last of his cigarette in the ashtray as Sam slides his tongue against the cut on his lip. He licks into Sam’s mouth, kissing him clumsily as he unbuttons his fly with trembling hands.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, looking down at his lap as he pulls his dick out through his open fly. Sam slides his spit slick lips over his neck, kissing and sucking along his skin as Dean spits in his hand and closes his eyes. Dropping his head against the back of seat, he strokes himself fast a few times then stills his hand, breathing heavily as his dick twitches in his grip. A bead of precome pulses out of him, sliding down to his fingers wrapped under his flushed pink head.

Sam pulls back and Dean opens his eyes. He watches as Sam rubs his thumb over the head of his dick, making the muscles in his stomach tense. He slides his thumb over his slit, rubbing there gently for a moment and Dean lets out a choked off noise as precome beads out of him again. Sam smears it around then brings thumb to his mouth and licks it from his skin.

“Shit,” Dean breathes out as Sam meets his eyes.
...
Back at their motel room, they clean up and gather their things quickly then hit the road, heading south toward New Mexico. They stop at a rest stop for night and huddle together under their few blankets as rain falls on the metal and glass surrounding them. Sam passes out almost immediately in Dean’s arms and it takes a while to get there, but Dean actually sleeps through the night. He manages to make $35 the next morning off a trucker while Sam waits in the car and they stop at a diner for breakfast.

“Your birthday’s coming up,” Dean says as he pushes a piece of chicken fried steak stuck to his fork around the gravy and runny egg yolk on his plate. Sam nods as he chews on a bite of his pancakes. “You got any ideas?” Dean asks as he takes the bite.

“I don’t know,” Sam shrugs, “I mean, there’s so many places to go and stuff,” he pauses as he takes a sip of orange juice, “it’s hard to pick.”

“Is there something you want to do?” Dean asks and takes a drink of coffee and Sam laughs. “What?” Dean asks, pulling his brows together as he looks at Sam across the table.

“I mean-” Sam says, dragging out the word as he looks around the room, “other than you?”

“Nice,” Dean groans as he leans back in his chair, “you know what I meant.”

“And you know what I want,” Sam shrugs again, “I don’t know what to tell ya.”

“We’ve been over this,” Dean says in a hushed tone as he leans back in and glances at the family sitting at the next table over.

“I’m going to be fourteen, Dean,” Sam says as he takes another bite of pancake, “I think you’ve made me wait long enough.”

Dean glances at them again, “we’ll talk about it.”

“When?”

“Not here,” Dean gestures around them, “obviously.”

“I just,” Sam starts then sets his fork down, “I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?”

“Why you’re fine with doing everything else, I mean,” Sam laughs, “we’ve done a lot of stuff, why is that,” he emphasizes the word with a tilt of his head, “such a big deal?”

“I said we’ll talk about it,” Dean says, his voice more firm this time.

“You put other stuff in m-” Sam says and Dean shushes him loudly and flags down their waitress.

“Hi, sorry,” he starts as he gives Sam a quick glance, “can we get two boxes and the check? My little brother is being a brat and we need to go.” She nods and Sam scoffs.

“A brat” Sam says, his eyes narrowing, “really? Fuck you.”

Once inside the car Dean turns to Sam, “what the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” Sam asks as he stares out the window and Dean can tell he’s still fuming.

“Why you insisted on talking about whether or not I’m going to fuck you in a very public place,” Dean pauses and adds, “Sam,” with emphasis.

“Why does it matter anyway?” Sam groans, “they’re strangers, they don’t know us.”

“You’re a fucking kid, Sam,” Dean argues, “most people tend to look down on that sort of thing, and the ones that don’t are fuckin’ creeps.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Sam says, throwing his hands in the air in frustration, “they don’t know me, they don’t know us,” he points toward the diner, “they don’t know what I want!”

“Sam-”

“No!” Sam yells, “am I a kid when you’re eating me out, or when I suck your dick?” He lets out a frustrated breath as he looks at Dean, his face is flushed and Dean’s stomach sinks, he can’t look at him. “What’s the difference?” He asks. “Wanting to fuck me doesn't make you a creep, Dean,” his voice is shaking now, “those guys want to touch kids because they’re kids, you want to touch me because I’m me, right?” They sit in silence for a long while, Dean’s mind racing as Sam waits for him to say something, anything.

“Yeah,” Dean says quietly and it twists his stomach into knots, “you’re right.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Sam asks.

“Listen,” Dean says, finally looking at Sam again, “people have done a lot of shitty things to me, some when I was too young to understand what was happening,” he swallows hard, admitting this much makes him feel sick, he can feel his mouth watering as his breakfast threatens to come back up, “and it fucked me up, Sam,” he continues, “it really fucked me up.” All at once his emotions come flooding to the surface and he looks up at the headliner as he blinks back the tears trying to break the surface. “I don’t want to fuck you up.”

“We already did it,” Sam says softly and Dean takes in a deep breath, “we already crossed that line once, sure we were fucked up but it happened, and I’m fine.” Sam rests a hand on Dean’s thigh as he continues, “I am so sorry that happened to you, but this is not the same.” They are both quiet as Dean takes in deep breaths, trying to compose himself. No matter what Sam insists, he knows there's no way what he did didn't fuck Sam up, that he didn't hurt him in ways he can't fix. “I just want to be able to remember it, Dean.”

“Okay,” Dean nods, “okay,” he repeats as he looks at Sam, “you’re right.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

May 1, 1997

They cross the Arizona border sometime after dark going west on HWY 60. Cool night air streams through Dean’s half open window, whipping his hair around as he stares at the road ahead of him stretching out over endless black desert. Staticy classic country plays quietly on the radio over the hum of the engine. Sam is leaning against his door with his head resting on his window, his mouth is slack and his eyes are closed.

There hasn’t been another car for miles, it’s only the two of them and the open road, just how Dean likes it.

Two hours later and they hit Winslow, Dean hums the tune of Take It Easy quietly as they pass the sign for the exit. Every few miles he chances a glance over at Sam’s sleeping form illuminated by the dim dash lights and can’t help the fond smile the spreads on his lips. Last year on Sam’s birthday, he woke up to Dean passed out on the front lawn. He sat on the front step and threw empty beer cans at him until he had to leave for school. When he came home, Dean was gone. Dean didn’t realize what day it was and honestly, he doesn’t know if he even would have done anything differently if he had known. He had a hard time facing Sam then, he couldn’t handle seeing the disappointment on his face when he looked at him, so he took the easy way out and instead of fixing himself, he just avoided him when he needed him most.

He knew he had to make up for it this year, it was the least he owed Sam. Ever since they saw a nature documentary on it when they were little, Sam wanted to see the Grand Canyon. He would go on about it to dad, asking him how far away it was and if they could go. Dad’s answer was always ‘too far’. Dean hasn’t heard Sam mention it in a long time, he probably gave up going a long time ago.

May 2, 1997

It’s around 3am when Dean finally pulls into a parking spot near the visitor’s center at the edge of the canyon. Sam stirs as he shifts the car into park and turns the key. He watches quietly as the engine cools to see if Sam wakes, but he just curls up tighter against the door and Dean watches him until he’s still again. After a few minutes, he rolls up his window and grabs his jacket and their blankets from the backseat.

“Happy birthday, Sam,” he whispers as he lays the blankets over Sam’s shoulders. Exhausted and ready to try to sleep, he leans back against his door and closes his eyes.

Cool, early morning light fills the car as Dean blinks awake, he must have finally passed out about an hour ago. Sam is curled up against his side, still fast asleep, his soft breaths coming out in puffs in the cold car. He looks so fragile in the warm, golden glow of the sun now rising over the horizon. Right on queue, Dean’s guilt comes bubbling back up, twisting his stomach into sick knots as he watches Sam sleep, he put him through so much. Dean closes his eyes and rests his head back against the window and waits, going through all the things he did wrong on a loop until Sam wakes. Sam stirs under his arm after about an hour, bringing Dean out of his thoughts. He rubs his eyes and Dean smiles down at him as he turns to look up at him.

“Mornin’” Dean says as Sam yawns and nestles back under his arm.

“Good morning,” Sam answers back.

“Happy fourteenth,” Dean says as he pulls Sam in closer and Sam looks back up at him.

“Thanks,” he says with a smile that makes Dean’s heart skip a beat, then sits up and stretches. “Where’d we make it to?”

“That’s your surprise,” Dean says, unable to keep from smiling as he watches Sam light up as he looks out the windows.

“Where are we?” He asks, looking back at Dean.

“C’mon,” Dean says, gesturing with his head as he opens his door. He steps out into the morning sun and takes Sam’s hand as he climbs out of the car after him. He leads Sam through the parking lot and down a rocky trail, excited nerves turning his stomach. They round a corner and Sam stops dead as the canyon comes into view. Dean stops, squeezing Sam’s hand gently as he turns back to him with a smile. Sam’s eyes are wide and shining as he takes in the magnificent view.

“Oh my God,” he breathes out as he looks from the canyon and meets Dean’s eyes, “Dean,” he says and it’s just above a whisper as tears break the surface of his eyes.

“Come on,” Dean says. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Sam look this happy and it makes his heart soar, “there’s more,” he smiles. He leads Sam to the lookout and stops, Sam lets go of his hand as he steps up to the stone barrier in awe, Dean waits a moment before stepping up next to him. He wraps his arm around Sam’s shoulders and takes in the view. It’s bigger and more beautiful than Dean could have ever imagined.

“It’s amazing,” Sam sighs as he leans into Dean’s side, “thank you,” he says looking up at Dean.

“Does it make up for last year?” Dean asks with a smile.

“Yes,” Sam laughs as he wipes the tears from his cheeks, “thank you,” he says again as he stretches up on his tippy toes to reach Dean’s lips. Dean kisses Sam softly, just for a moment, then Sam pulls back and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, resting his head against his chest as he looks at the canyon.

They spend the day exploring and going anywhere Sam wants, eating overpriced food and enjoying every moment. Through it all, Dean’s stomach is in knots, his nerves getting the better of him as he anticipates what he has planned for the rest of Sam’s surprise.

As evening approaches, he books them a room at a tiny roadside motel on the outskirts of the park. It’s small, one bed and a seating area, decorated in a kitschy southwestern style that Dean should hate but doesn’t.

Quietly while Sam is in the bathroom, Dean digs through his duffel and stuffs a bottle of lube and a few condoms into the pocket of his jacket and swallows hard against his dry, tight throat. “Come on,” he clears his throat as Sam walks back into the room, “there’s one more thing.”

Sam’s face lights up again with a big smile, “what?”

“You’ll see,” Dean says grabbing the comforter off the bed and tossing it over his shoulder, “come on,” he repeats as he nods toward the door. Sam follows him out the door and shuts it behind him.

“Where are we going?” Sam asks as he walks behind Dean out into the low bushes behind the motel.

“Just out here to watch the sunset,” he admits, looking around them as they walk for a suitable spot of dirt with minimal rocks, he wants Sam to be comfortable after all, “I thought you would like that.”

“Okay,” Sam says behind him, “sounds good.” Twenty minutes later, Dean finds a good spot, far enough from the motel and road they can be alone without interruptions.

“Here’s good,” he says, kicking some of the larger rocks out the way. Sam gets the idea and joins him in clearing the space and when he’s satisfied, he lays out the comforter and offers Sam a crooked smile as his stomach twists with nerves again.

“Thank you,” Sam says as he sits down, “today was really nice, I loved it.” Dean swallows hard, nodding as he takes a seat next to him. He lets out a deep breath, annoyed at himself for acting like a fucking virgin going to Lovers Lane for the first time. He can feel himself trembling and if Sam notices, he doesn’t say anything. He’s more nervous than he was his first time, it was over too quickly to even matter and he never really liked her that much anyway. But this is Sam, and he just wants to do right by him.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Dean says and clears his throat. It takes him a few long minutes, but finally he works himself up to it and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out the lube and condoms and sets them on the blanket in front of them, “what do you say?” he asks, his voice thin as he turns to Sam.

Sam’s lips spread into wide smile and Dean’s stomach flutters, “really?” Sam asks.

“I mean,” Dean huffs out a nervous laugh, “if you want to.”

“Are you kidding?” Sam snorts.

“I mean it Sam,” Dean says, meeting Sam’s eyes, “I need to know you’re positive this is what you really want.”

Sam’s smile falls as he looks back at him, “yeah, Dean,” he says softly, “I’m sure. It’s what I really want.”

Dean swallows again and nods, then leans in, cupping Sam’s jaw as he brings his lips to meet Sam’s, soft and gentle. As they kiss, he lays Sam back against the blanket, bracing himself on an elbow as he moves his lips to Sam’s neck. Dean rolls his hips, rubbing himself gently against Sam’s thigh as Sam runs his fingers through his hair.

“I’m kind of nervous,” Sam says with a breathy laugh, “it’s stupid, I know.” Dean sits up and rests on his heels as he looks down at Sam, flush faced and illuminated in the golden light of the sunset. He looks beautiful.

“It’s not stupid,” Dean assures him as he pulls off his jacket, “I’m nervous too,” he admits.

“What?” Sam asks, cocking his head to one side as Dean sets his jacket down beside them, “why are you nervous?”

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugs as he reaches down for Sam’s fly, “I just-” he pauses as he pops the buttons open, “I guess this is the first time it’s ever really mattered to me.” His stomach flips as he glances up, meeting Sam’s eyes. Sam sits up and kisses Dean again and Dean closes his eyes as he kisses him back.

“Thank you,” Sam says against his lips then lays back down as Dean opens his eyes. “I’m really happy,” Sam adds, offering him a soft smile and Dean’s stomach jumps as he smiles back.

“Me too,” he says as he take hold of the waistbands of Sam’s jeans and briefs and works them down as Sam lifts his hips to help. Dean pulls them off Sam’s legs and Sam settles back down, spreading his knees a little as Dean looks down at him. His mouth starts to water as he feels his dick twitch against his fly in anticipation. Sam’s skin is impossibly soft as Dean runs his hands up his shins to his knobby knees.

“Lift your hips up,” he says as he lets go of him and reaches for his jacket. He wads it up as Sam does as he’s told as Dean stuffs it under his ass, lifting it off the blanket. Sam rests his head back and lets out a long shaky breath as Dean lays down on his stomach, resting his weight on his elbows between Sam’s legs. His heart races as spreads Sam open and presses his tongue to the pink puckered skin of Sam’s hole. He feels it twitching against his tongue and he hums as he rubs himself against the ground.

After a few minutes, he presses his tongue against him and pushes in, Sam lets out a breath that melts into a moan as Dean licks at his rim. “Always feels so good,” Sam breathes out and Dean can help but smile against his slick skin at the praise. After awhile, he pulls back and reaches for the lube. He pops the cap and squirts a little on his first two fingers then nudges them in, making Sam’s breath hitch. Dean moves his tongue over him again, relaxing him enough that his fingers slide in easily the rest of the way.

He rubs his fingers against the velvety soft tissue inside Sam, sliding them in and out, spreading them gently as he stretches Sam open. When he hits the right spot, Sam lets out a moan and closes his legs, whimpering as he presses his thighs against Dean. Dean rubs there, feeling Sam’s legs start to shake against him and he kisses Sam’s thigh.

“Wait,” Sam says, his voice shaking as Dean stills his hand, “I don’t want to come yet.”

“Okay,” Dean says as he pulls his fingers out and wipes the mess on the blanket next to them.

“I want to come with you inside me,” Sam breathes out, letting his legs fall open again. Dean sits up, swallowing hard as he looks down at Sam, taking in the sight.

“Are you ready?” Dean asks as he rubs his palm down against his dick and Sam nods.

“Yes.”

Dean’s hands tremble as he unbuttons his fly, his stomach is tight and his heart is pounding against his ribs. He slides his jeans down his hips and his dick springs free, he hears Sam take in a sharp breath and he glances up at him. Sam’s heavy eyes move from his dick to meet his eyes and he bites his lip. Dean curses under his breath, he’s so gone for Sam, he never stood a chance.

He steadies his breathing as he tears open a condom package with his teeth and rolls it down his dick then glances at Sam again. Sam’s hands are resting between his thighs as he waits. He pours more lube onto his hand for good measure and slicks himself up as much as he can. Finally, Dean climbs over him, resting on his hands and knees as he looks down at Sam.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks as he reaches up and touches Dean’s cheek, Dean’s eyes flutter closed at the touch and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” Dean swallows as he opens his eyes again and looks down at Sam, meeting his eyes. Sam smiles softly and Dean can’t help but smile back.

“Thanks for this,” Sam says again, brushing the hair hanging around Dean’s face back.

“Thanks for giving me another chance,” Dean says quietly. He didn’t deserve one after what he did to Sam and he’s so grateful Sam still even wants him. “Ready?” he asks again and Sam lets out a laugh.

“Dammit, Dean,” he smiles, “yes, I’m ready.” Dean huffs out a laugh and nods.

“Okay.” He reaches back and takes hold of himself and looks down as he lowers his body and guides himself forward. His stomach flutters as rubs the tip of his cock in slow circles against Sam. Sam lets out a little noise as his hips jump and Dean looks up to meet his eyes again.

Sam takes in a deep breath and bites his lip as Dean nudges forward, pressing into him. Dean watches his mouth slowly open as the head of his cock sinks into him.

“Is it okay?” Dean asks, his body shaking with strain as he waits, careful not to move in case it hurts.

“Yeah,” Sam breathes out, nodding as his eyebrows pulls together, “keep going.” Dean moves forward, sliding slow inch after slow inch in as Sam’s hole stretches around him, gripping him tight. Sam lets out a choked off whimper and Dean stills again, giving Sam’s body a moment to adjust to the new sensation.

“God,” Sam moans, “I don’t remember feeling this full last time.”

Dean looks down to where he disappears into Sam and back up, “I’m only in about half way, baby,” he says sympathetically.

“Fuck,” Sam whimpers as he drops his head back against the blanket and Dean starts to panic.

“Are you okay? Do you want to stop?” he asks, starting to pull out carefully. The last thing he wants is to hurt Sam.

“No,” Sam chokes out and Dean feels him clench around him, “no, it hurts but I want more.”

“Okay,” Dean nods, his stomach tightening as he starts to nudge in further. Sam’s face scrunches up and he holds his breath as Dean slides the rest of the way in until his hips are resting flush against Sam’s ass. “There,” he says as Sam lets out the breath his was holding and his face finally relaxes, “how does that feel?”

“So fucking good, Dean,” Sam sighs as he looks up at Dean and licks his lips, “how do I feel?”

“You feel like heaven,” Dean says as he adjusts their position carefully so he’s resting on his heels. He leans forward and catches Sam’s mouth, Sam reaches his hand up, gripping the back of Dean’s head as he pulls him against him and kisses him slow and lazy. Dean starts to pull out slowly, his stomach tightening as he moves. Sam’s head falls back and he lets out a long moan as the head of Dean’s cock catches on his rim then slides back in, spreading him open again and making him whimper.

Dean can’t help the choked off moan that escapes his lips as he pulls back and sets up a slow rhythm. As he moves, he feels the overwhelming weight he has felt for so long start to melt away. He leans down, catching Sam’s mouth again in a lazy kiss and closes his eyes as Sam licks the doubts from his tongue. His mind quiets as he focuses on how fucking good Sam feels wrapped around him, pulling him in. Sam strokes himself gently as Dean picks up the pace, pulling back for longer strokes and pushing tiny whimpers out of Sam every time he slides back in.

Sam keeps his eyes on him until he can’t anymore and they flutter shut, he lets go of himself and rests his hands on Dean’s shoulders, digging his fingers in as Dean moves. Heat courses through Dean’s body, radiating from where their skin touches, his body feels like it’s on fire. He shakes the fallen hair away from his face and sits back on his heels, pulling Sam by the hips flush against him again and drives in.

Sam’s back arches, his hips lifting and toes curling up in his socks, Dean can feel his body tensing and he clenches tight around him. He’s moaning, his body shaking as Dean fucks into him then all at once, Sam comes apart under him. His hole spasms around Dean’s cock, whimpering as his body contracts in waves as Dean watches him spill again and again onto his heaving stomach.

“Fuck,” Dean groans as Sam scratches his fingernails down Dean’s back through his shirt, scrambling for grip. He leans down and swallows Sam’s moans with a kiss as he starts to move again, faster this time, driving into Sam harder. Dean can feel Sam trembling with every thrust into his oversensitive body and he holds on with limp arms as Dean fucks himself over the edge.

He pushes into Sam deep, their bodies flush against each other as his body tenses up. He lets out a choked off moan, the worst of his insecurities disappearing as he comes, spilling deep inside Sam. He rolls his hips, gently working himself through it until the aftershocks stop. He stills for a moment, breathing heavily through his nose as his body trembles.

Reality slowly sets back in as Dean sits back, he starts to pulls out and Sam stops him with a hand on his arm, “wait,” he says, “stay in me for a little longer.”

Dean drops down to his elbows and kisses Sam again, it’s wet and clumsy and Dean can’t remember the last time he was this happy. He pulls away and looks down at Sam, his heart flutters as Sam smiles up at him and Dean fucking melts. He brushes Sam’s damp hair out of his face and slides his thumb across Sam’s bottom lip before leaning in and kissing him again.

“Was it good?” he asks against Sam’s lips.

Sam lets out a breathy laugh and nods his head, “so good.” Dean closes his eyes, savoring the warmth of Sam’s body against his as he realizes just how cold it has become. “Was it good for you?” he hears Sam ask quietly.

“Yeah, Sam,” Dean says, “you were amazing.” They stay like that for a while, until Dean feels Sam start to shiver beneath him. “Come on,” he says as he sits up, his soft cock slipping out of Sam easily, “lets get cleaned up and get back to the room where it’s warm.”

“Can we do it again?” Sam asks as he looks up at Dean with a smile and Dean can’t help but laugh.

“You gotta give me a minute, kid,” Dean smiles, shaking his head as he hands Sam his jeans. He slides the condom off his dick and ties it then tosses it into the bushes. He helps Sam up as he stands and tucks himself back into his jeans as Sam pulls his jeans up his shaking legs. Dean smiles to himself as Sam slips on his sneakers and Dean gathers up the blanket in his arms.

Sam stumbles in the darkness as they start to walk back toward the motel and Dean stops. “Come here,” he says, bending over slightly, “jump on.”

“Thanks,” Sam says as he climbs onto Dean’s back, “my legs are still shaky,” he adds as Dean stands again. Sam wraps his legs around Dean’s waist and holds onto his shoulders as Dean starts to walk again. “I really liked that,” Sam adds after a few quiet moments, “it kind of hurt, but it felt so good.”

“I did too,” Dean smiles, “and it gets easier, you get used to it.”

“Can we try it the other way sometime?” Sam asks, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck.

“Sure,” Dean nods as he walks carefully, “if that’s what you want.”

“Do you like it?” Sam asks, resting his face against Dean’s.

“Sometimes,” Dean admits, “but I bet I’d like it a lot if you did it.” Sam lets out a small laugh and squeezes his legs tighter around Dean’s waist and Dean feels his dick react. He lets out a sigh and realizes the real reason he thinks he was so hesitant to cross this line, really cross it, was because he knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

He wants Sam so badly, he always has.

Once inside the room he drops Sam off onto the bed and he laughs as he bounces. Dean climbs on after him, hovering above him for a moment then kisses him softly. “I’m not going to be able to stop wanting to fuck you now,” he says against the skin of Sam’s neck, “I hope you know that. I won’t be able to get enough.”

“You promise?” Sam asks, meeting Dean’s eyes and Dean can’t help but smile.