The doctor called him Sam, with a quiet, shy tone to his voice. He was a nice enough man, although maybe a little too self-conscious to be a caregiver. His hair was dark and he had glasses that constantly had Sam playing a game he liked to call 'spot the smudge’. Sometimes it was right in the middle of the lens or he’d have half a thumb print off to the side.

His skin was so pale it almost looked violet. If he were a woman, someone would have said alabaster or porcelain. It looked like porcelain; Sam thought so at least. It was smooth and the coloration, or lack thereof, was even. Every time they met, once a week as it was, Sam had to fight to not ask to touch it, just to make sure it was real. No one had skin like that, at least not naturally. He had never been around women, so his experience with makeup was somewhat limited, but he doubted any brand could do such a flawless job of hiding any discoloration or blemishes, so he had to accept that fact that Dr. Grosse just had very nice skin.

It was a funny name that always had Sam half chuckling to himself, even it if was very inappropriate considering the circumstances of their casual Saturday morning dates. Sam thought of them as dates even thought he wasn’t attracted to Dr. Grosse, who was in fact married and expecting his first child in Spring.

They always made small talk during their meetings, the doctor did at least, Sam never really had anything to say because his life wasn’t very exciting and nothing memorable happened. He got through most days wondering if anything memorable was ever going to happen again.

When he woke up in the morning, he either went to school or work depending on which day it was. When he was done, he usually cooked if he didn’t have any leftovers or frozen dinners. He knew he wasn’t a good cook, but he could boil water and wait. It was mostly spaghetti or the odd chicken breast in a frying pan if he felt confident. He had a steak once a month when his budget allowed, but they were few and far between.

He had to pay his rent and the few bills he had. Most of them were small and he could easily handle it, but one came every month that made Sam cringe as he wrote the check, and feel so utterly helpless he wanted to cry.

Sam was a month into his freshman year at Stanford when he heard a knock on his dorm room door and opened it to find a non-descript, brown box tied up with string, and bearing his name in Dean’s blocky penmanship. He tucked the package under his arm and went racing out of the dorm hoping to catch him, but Dean had made a quick escape.

The Impala was sitting right in front of the building all locked up safe and tight, so Sam waited there with the box in his hands. He waited for Dean to show up, so he could be there when Sam opened what he thought must have been a present.

By the time the sun had set, Sam had given up hope of a surprise visit from his favorite person and opened up the box. Inside was a stack of wrinkled hundred dollar bills, the keys to the car and a note, once again in Dean’s blocky penmanship. It was short, but Sam still ignored it to look at the bottom where it said “Love Dean, your brother.”

The “ther” in brother caught his eye, after he made sure that Dean had written 'love'. It was shakier than the rest of the letters that came before it. They seemed to run together like he was writing while running, away from what Sam didn’t know.

The note offered no real clues. All it said was that he needed a favor, and the money would be enough. Sam didn’t know what he was referring to, but if Dean needed something he was going to do it for him and not ask any questions. He moved the car first so it wouldn’t get towed, and then made it back to his room to place a phone call just to make sure everything was okay.

The number had already been disconnected and for the next month Sam worried and ate at his fingers. His grades suffered, and he suffered because he wasn’t sure where Dean was or if he was even alive. The bill came at the end of September and Sam wrote the first of many checks that would stretch on, until that original money was long gone and he was in his senior year.

The first time Sam went to see him the doctors and nurses wouldn’t let him because they felt it would be detrimental to the progress they were sure Dean was making. It was the end of October before he got to see him, but Sam wasn’t sure it really was him. In the two months he had been at Hill Grove he had lost some weight, but he didn’t even notice that at first, all he could see was the vacant stare of his eyes.

The hospital was only an hour outside of Palo Alto, so Sam went back every day and waited for Dean to talk, but he wouldn’t. He would barely even look at Sam those first few months. He wanted to get an apartment and take him there to care for him, but the mere suggestion made Dean even more isolated, and violent in a way Sam had never seen before.

So he stayed in the nuthouse, that’s what peopled called it. They were also fond of crazyhouse, looney bin, asylum, sanitarium or another number of colorful nicknames for the hospital Dean called home. The nurses called it a haven of wellbeing, some of the doctors liked to call it a facility, but Sam called it hell, because he couldn’t help Dean. He didn’t want help.

He had checked himself in on the same day the mysterious package arrived without saying more than a few words about why he needed to be locked away. He had told the doctors that he was suicidal and dangerous, which Sam didn’t learn until Dean’s second year there, when Dr. Grosse decided to tell him. He told Sam everything that was in Dean’s file including something that broke his heart. Until he was ready to leave, he was staying right where he was.

Sam had been considering ways to take over guardianship of him and force him out of the hospital, but Dean had a clear enough mind when he checked in to make that impossible.

So maybe Sam’s less than memorable life was just an external illusion to anyone who happened to be looking in. He went to work or school depending on the day and every Saturday rain or shine he got into the Impala and drove an hour to see Dean, his brother.

The office he was sitting in was a complete mess, a professional mess, Sam thought. Dr. Grosse seemed like the type of man who worked best amid the chaos; that seemed like it would explain why he had chosen his particular career. The walls were a dull white that had probably been bright white some thirty years ago when the hospital was in it’s prime. Above his desk, next to diplomas and certifications, was a rather strange poster of a small cat in a field of wildflowers.

Sam had almost bought something similar for his apartment, it was a dog, but the feel was the same. It was at a garage sale down the block that he stopped off at on the way home from work. The print was already framed and only a dollar, but Sam didn’t have a hammer and he certainly didn’t have any nails. All those things cost money, which he didn’t have and wasn’t willing to part with even if he did.

He had a shit job at the public library in town where the most exciting thing he did was to order new books when someone requested them. It didn’t pay well, but there was enough downtime that he could study or work on his other job that paid better, but was even less exciting.

Dean’s medical expenses were high and short of sucking cock to make ends meet, he had to do something he objected to almost as much. He wrote his own papers for his classes, and then wrote several more for well-to-do classmates who didn’t even know who he was. He had left a few notes around with his email and people just starting writing asking for a little help in return for a little cash.

Sam would write the paper, usually with a yawn and a cup of strong coffee and then send them after he got some money transferred into his online account. He knew it was wrong, and that it made a mockery of the entire educational system, but he needed the money and they needed papers. They were only hurting themselves and besides constantly being exhausted Sam had no problem with it.

“Sam,” The doctor said as he always did in his quiet, shy voice. “There’s been an incident.”

“Incident?”

He wasn’t sure what that meant. Dean could have tripped on the stairs, stubbed his toe or even been killed. Sam was sure it wasn’t as bad as him being dead, because it seemed like the doctor wouldn’t have tried to sugarcoat that. No one at the hospital really understood Sam. Most of the patients had been there for years and maybe they occasionally got a card in the mail or a phone call, Dean was one of the few that got a visitor each and every week.

It seemed like everyone was waiting for him to give up on the shell he called his brother, but Sam refused to because Dean was more than that. It had only been one night, one incredible night Sam thought about whenever he had some spare time to get himself off.

Unlike the rest of the nameless masses he went to school with, Sam hadn’t had the college experience of a different girl or guy every weekend. He had Dean before he left for school, and then he had his text books, exams, and bills to pay. When he did find the time, he got to relive that night and for a few moments Dean wasn’t just a shell. He was in bed with him, holding him up. He had been there for Sam and now it was his turn.

“An orderly we hired appears to have violated several patients.”

“Excuse me?”

“He’s currently in police custody. I want to express my deepest…”

“Wait,” Sam laughed. “Let me see if I understand. Dean feels safe here. I pay you money I don’t have every month to keep him safe, and now you’re telling me someone raped him and you’re sorry. Is that correct?”

“No,” He answered as he shook his head. “No, we’re not sure what happened to Dean, but his room was unlocked. The orderly said he didn’t do anything to anyone, but he have security footage of him and a female patient.”

“How could you let this happen?”

“I am sorry. (I don’t want this for any of my patients, especially Dean.”

“Now,” Sam said as he leaned forward. “Is that because he’s probably the only one who has someone who cares about him or because you care?”

“Because I care.”

That low quiet tone of his voice kept dipping down with every word until it was just a whisper. Sam felt such rage he didn’t know how he was still sitting when he wanted to throw punches and kill whatever son of a bitch had hurt Dean. Whatever he went through before he checked into the hospital was more than anyone should have to deal with.

“Where is he?”

“He’s in the garden.”

“We’ll continue this later,” Sam said as he stood up.

“There’s more.”

“What?”

“I called you because we’ve called everyone, but…” The doctor paused and sighed. “He asked us to call you.”

“He’s…” Sam said as he rubbed his temples. “He’s talking? He asked for me?”

“He did, I’ll take you to him.”

“He really asked for me?”

“Unless he knows someone else named Sammy.”

Sam wanted to hear that again more than anything. If Dean happened to say his name then it meant that he really was still in there and not just a shell like everyone seemed to think.

They never let Sam walk about the facility alone, because while Dean was relatively calm most of the time, the majority of patients weren’t. The worst cases were confined to their rooms, but Dean was lucky because he had the whole hospital at his disposal even if he was never really left alone.

He was always in the garden when the weather was nice. Some of the nurses had tried to get him to help out with the weeding and planting, but he wouldn’t do it. He was content to just sit on his favorite bench and watch the blades of grass dance in the wind.

The doctor stayed inside once he had walked Sam to the garden. Dean was alone outside like he normally was. Like Sam, he hadn’t managed to make a single friend. They didn’t really need any before; they had each other, even with the miles between them, they were still best friends.

Sam always approached with caution like the doctors and nurses recommended. They had all seen what happened when Sam tried to get Dean to leave and none of them wanted it to happen again. It was Sam’s fault because he unintentionally let himself get angry and told Dean that he didn’t have a choice. They were both leaving and going to find an apartment. He made the mistake of touching Dean’s wrist too hard or too quick and got punched so hard it took his breath away.

It took three orderlies and a doctor with a needle to calm him down afterwards, and as much as Sam wanted to beg for him to leave the hospital he never mentioned it again. He didn’t care about getting hit or having to explain a black eye to people at school. All he cared about was how scared Dean looked when he tried to take away his choice.

Sam walked slowly around the bench, further than he needed to so Dean would see him and not be caught off guard. He looked up for just a second before his eyes went right back to the grass.

“I missed you,” Sam said as he sat next to him. “Don’t think I forgot. I brought them.”

Sam dug in his bag and pulled out the box of store bought strawberry jelly rolls he brought him every week. Sometimes Dean would eat one right away, but most of the time Sam had to open it up, take a bite and then hand it off to him. It was like he didn’t trust anyone even Sam.

“I went to the grocery and they were on sale buy one get one free. I have enough for the next six weeks. I would have bought more, but they won’t stay good for that long. I don’t know if they’d be good if I froze them.”

Sam took a bite of the cake that was so sweet it always made him nauseous. Dean was looking at him watching how he shaved just the tiniest bit off the end with his front teeth. Sam always bought them for Dean, but he had yet to eat a whole one.

“Here you go,” Sam said as he handed it to him. “It’s nice out today.”

“Windy,” Dean said quietly. “Sammy, I need you.”

“Okay.”

He had to keep calm and not let the shock of Dean’s voice register on his face. He sounded like he always did, except now he was lost. Like his voice was coming through from the other side of a darkened room he was trying to find his way out of.

“There’s a man. He’s calls evahone retards, but they aren’t. He came into my room and I don’t want him to come back.”

“He won’t. I promise. Will you tell me what happened?”

“After my medicine I get real tired. Real tired Sammy. I woke up and he was watching me and…” Dean sighed. “Ya’ know.”

“What was he doing.?”

“You know,” Dean repeated raising his voice. “He did it on me Sammy, like you did, ‘member?”

Sam closed his eyes and their one perfect night replayed over again in his mind. He was home alone trying to figure out what he should take when he moved. John was God only knows where and Dean had gone off drinking. When he came home Sam was on the floor folding clothes.

He begged for him to stay with tears in his eyes. Sam in turn begged for Dean to come with him. At the time they hadn’t done anything, but were both well aware of what they wanted. Neither of them would give in, but they did give in to each other. Dean fucked him first and then, without being asked, he got down in bed and pulled his legs back for Sam to get inside.

He had lost his virginity that night, but even if he hadn’t he would have remembered it. Dean wanted him to come inside, like he had, because that way they would always have a little bit of each other. Sam drove in harder and harder until he shot off while Dean was clawing at his back and biting his neck.

Sam was exhausted, but he managed to come again when Dean asked him to on his face. He wanted to wear him and see how he would look in the mirror. The second time he came it was more, because Dean was watching and waiting. Afterwards he got out of bed and looked into the mirror.

He studied his face for at least a half hour. It could have been longer, but the passing of time meant nothing to Sam after the hours they spent together. Dean looked at himself from every angle and tried different light sources to see what worked best. He turned on and off the overhead lights, he opened the blinds in that one small bathroom window to get the moonlight. He did everything but request a flashlight or maybe a lamp.

By the time they went to bed it had all dried on his skin. He didn’t bother washing his face or even wiping it off. He wanted it there as a reminder.

“He masturbated on you?” Sam asked. “On your face?”

“Yes.”

“Did he do anything else?”

“He said he was gonna tonight, Sammy. I wanna to go home wit’ you. Please.”

“I think that would be okay.”

Sam tried to stop himself from crying, but it was impossible. Dean had been there for three years and he was ready to leave. He wanted to do it with Sam, he wanted to live with him where he could keep him safe.

He was only a few months away from graduation, but he could put all that on hold to take care of him, like Dean (had always done for him. Even in his current state Dean was still taking care of him. His fingers were sticky from the fake strawberry jam, but Sam didn’t care. He was clearing away his tears and smiling.

“You’re real handsome.”

“So are you,” Sam laughed. “We need to make a deal, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You can come home, but you have to keep talking to me, even if you don’t want to.”

“I always do, Sammy.”

“Well why haven’t you? It’s been like three years and you haven’t said a word.”

“We can’t tell anyone,” Dean whispered. “’member, it’s our secret, we made a pact.”

They were both adults when they slept together, but like children again afterwards. They had made a pact that it stayed between the two of them. Dean had spit in his hand first and Sam did the same. Dean thought that was stupid though, because they already had spit and come between them. There was a Swiss army knife in the nightstand between their beds. Dean split Sam’s hand and then Sam did his. They were shallow cuts, just enough to get the blood flowing.

Dean had reasoned at the time that he was going to have to shit and shower eventually, but Sam’s blood would always be inside of him. After Sam found out that Dean was in the facility, he split his hand back open, deeper than the first time and let it heal before he did it again. He wanted the scar so that he’d remember every time he looked at his hand.

“I remember.”

“Okay.”

Dean held out his palm and spit into it. It was tinged red and cloudy from his jelly roll and that made Sam stop crying so he could laugh. He spit into his hand next and they shook on it. He his hand was sticky after that, just like the smudge under his eye that his hair was sticking to.

“I have to go talk to Dr. Grosse and we can leave in a little bit.”

“I’m gonna go get my stuff.”

“You have stuff?”

Sam hadn’t been to Dean’s room for a few months. He was never in there when he came for his visits. When he checked in he left all of his belongs in the trunk of the car. Sam had kept them there until he moved out of the dorms and into his apartment. He was holding on to them because he knew in his heart he’d get Dean back eventually. The only stuff Dean had was his uniform of gray pajama pants, a white cotton t-shirt with socks and slippers. Everyone wore the same thing and Sam couldn’t wait to get him into some real clothes.

“These ladies brought us all blankets last Christmas. One of them brought me another one on my birthday so I have two. You can use them Sammy, if you want.”

“Are they good for watching television with?”

“We don’t watch television. I need to get my stuff Sammy, you go talk to the doctor.”

“Okay, let’s do that.”

Sam was just going to walk next to him as they made it out of the courtyard garden, but Dean grabbed his wrist so he could hold on. He wasn’t trying to hold his hand, he just had him around the wrist. Sam could tell he was excited because he was pulling him along. Sam was excited too, until he was back in the chaotic office with the doctor telling him how much work it was going to be to take care of Dean.

He wasn’t going to be able to leave him alone for a while, at least until he was positive he wouldn’t hurt himself. He could handle most things, just not alone. He didn’t want him driving, which Sam agreed with for the time being. He could feed himself, and handle the bathroom alone, but he was worried about leaving him unattended, especially with his past tendencies.

“I’m fine with standing next to him while he’s on the toilet okay? I’ll wipe his ass if I have to.”

“I’m not saying you won’t, Sam. I know you will, but getting him acclimated to everyday life is a full time job. I’m concerned about you being able to finish school and take care of him. You can arrange for someone to stay with him, but he won’t like that.”

“Then I’ll finish school after he’s better. I’ve been working my ass off since I started. I can take a few weeks off.”

“What about months? What about a year?”

“Whatever it takes. You know he’s better off with me.”

“Agreed.” The doctor nodded. “We wrote you a check for the money you paid. It’s most of it since he checked in. We can’t make what happened right, but we’d like to avoid any further complications.”

Sam knew he was being bought off, like the rest of the patients families probably were. He was smart enough to know that if he did take them to court he could probably get a lot more, but that took time and money, both of which were in short supply. He had three years worth of huge bills back, which was enough for him to quit the job at the library and take care of Dean. He wasn’t ready to give up writing papers yet, but once he dropped out for a while he wouldn’t have to write his own anymore. He could always raise prices and then just write for those who could afford him.

“Thank you. This will help.”

“If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to call. I wrote down my number and prescriptions for Dean. I hope you’ll consider getting him a regular doctor to monitor his progress.”

Sam took the check and the whole stack of prescriptions and instructions. Dean had pills to calm him down and level him out. He had pills to put him to sleep and probably one to wake him up. Sam wasn’t getting one of them filled. Dean couldn’t get better, not if he was so doped up every day of his life. He was going to have to do some research after he got home and see what he really needed to be taking, and Sam wasn’t sure if it was anything.

When he made it back to the lobby, Dean was already waiting with his two blankets, his box of jelly rolls, and another box of cookies Sam had given him for his birthday. It was almost a year ago, and he still had them.

Dean was listening while a few of the nurses who really liked him were saying goodbye. He wasn’t really looking at them, which made Sam worry, but as soon as he approached he looked at him.

“I signed my papers.”

“Then we’re ready to go.” Sam smiled. “Those blankets look really nice.”

“They’re comfortable too, Sammy.”

“Are you still eating those cookies? They must be stale by now.”

“No.” Dean shook his head and opened up the box. “I ate them all. I jus’ keep this.”

“Why?”

“Because, Sammy,” Dean said. “You gave it to me.”

Sam expected some kind of reaction from Dean when they got to the car, it was after all the second most important thing to him. He only mentioned how nice it looked and then slipped into the passengers seat with his blankets on his lap. He didn’t want to drive or make sure Sam was putting the right gas in it. He didn’t even ask about getting the oil changed or inquire about the mismatched tire he had to replace after a blow out he had a year ago.

The apartment Sam was living in was close to school, on the top floor of the building and one of the larger units in it. He had really lucked out because he originally leased a much smaller one that ended up getting destroyed by some bad pipes the day before he moved in. The landlord offered the larger unit and three years later she was still apologizing for it. The rent was the same after she discounted it and Sam liked the extra space. It was still one bed and one bath, but the kitchen and living area had a little more breathing room.

“Sammy, this is real nice.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked. “Well, this is where we live now. Come see the bedroom.”

Dean nodded and followed him as closely as he could while they walked through the living room, past the kitchen and into the bedroom. Sam always kept everything nice and neat, so the bed was made, all his laundry was put away and the dresser was cleared off.

“This is real nice too.” Dean smiled.

“I was thinking maybe we could go find two smaller beds for here. I’m going to give you the bed and I’ll just crash on the sofa for a while.”

“I want to stay with you.”

“I’ll just be in the living room.”

“No, Sammy, in the same bed, like sleepovers. Like that night.”

Dean mentioned it again and it all came rushing back. They fell asleep holding on to each other and Sam had the best nights sleep of his life. He felt safe and warm in Dean’s arms. He wanted that again more than anything, but if they did anything beside sleep in the bed, he felt like he would be taking advantage of Dean in his current state.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No.” Sam shook his head.

“Do you have a boy you like?”

“I have you.”

“Even if I’m crazy?” Dean shrugged. “Retarded.”

“You’re neither of those things.”

Sam cautiously took Dean’s hand in his and sat down on the bed with him. He kept thinking 'be cautious' and it made him feel guilty. He remembered the rage Dean had when he tried to get him to leave the hospital the first time and he didn’t want to have to deal with that again.

“You’re my brother and I love you. You’re not crazy or retarded. We’re going to get you better, if you let me help you.”

“I wanna be better, Sammy.”

“I know, we’re going to get there. The doctor gave me a bunch of prescriptions, but how about we try to handle things without them? Are you okay with that?”

“I need the blue ones to sleep.”

“Well let’s make another deal. If we need to we’ll get those filled. If you can’t sleep, I’ll stay up with you and we can talk. We can watch movies, eat popcorn and play games. Maybe I can be your blue one.”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed. “Yeah Sammy, I think that’s okay.”

“Good, me and you are in this together, okay?”

“Okay.” Dean nodded.

“Now, do you want to see something totally cool?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well, come on!”

Sam decided the hell with caution. If Dean needed to beat the shit out of him he was going to let him. If that made things any easier on him he would take every punch he threw.

He grabbed his hand and took off running out of the room with Dean laughing with him. They were both like kids again, kids playing house maybe, which was always really fun. Sam actually had two things to show him, the first was the menu stuck on his freezer. It was to his favorite pizza place that was quick, cheap and the best pizza he ever had.

“We’re going to get the biggest pizza they have loaded with every topping.”

“Except anchovies,” Dean laughed. “And you don’t like olives.”

“Except anchovies and olives. We’re going to order a pizza, their special dessert pizza, and two two liters. We’re going to sit down on that sofa and eat both of them.”

“What’s on the dessert pizza?”

“Cinnamon, sugar, cream cheese icing with chocolate and caramel. I even have some ice cream we can eat it with.”

“You know at the hospital all we had was Jell-o for dessert and when we had pizza it barely had any cheese on it. Can we get it with triple cheese?”

“Whatever you want.” Sam smiled. “You tell me and we’ll get it.”

“We’re gonna get so sick.”

“It’ll be worth it. Now, check this out.”

Sam opened up his special cabinet that was just for Dean. It was where he kept the five extra boxes of jelly rolls as well as his study necessities like bags of skittles, M&Ms and other assorted goodies that he bought on clearance after Halloween was over. It was a candy store and Dean could have whatever he wanted.

“You have skittles.”

“You like skittles, don’t you?”

“I haven’t had any in…” Dean paused. “I don’t even know, Sammy. Can I have a bag?”

“Of course. Do you want something to drink? I think I have some juice and sprite maybe.”

Sam turned around to dig in the refrigerator and was caught off guard when Dean threw his arms around him. Besides the hand holding, it was the closest affection they had since leaving the hospital. With Dean hugging him, Sam realized for the first time what it was like to be a big brother – because he finally was one. Dean was older, but he needed someone to take care of him and Sam could do that.

“I love you, Sammy.”

“I love you too.”

“Can I have sprite?”

“Yeah, I have some.”

Dean finally let go and sat down at the kitchen table with his bag of candy while Sam got his drink. He kept his head in the refrigerator for a second hoping the cold air would help clear his eyes so Dean wouldn’t know they had teared up. He tried to hide them as he handed off the bottle of sprite, the last one he had, but Dean noticed and frowned.

“What’s wrong? I really do love you.”

“I know. I just missed you.”

“I’m gonna to be okay, Sammy. I promised myself I wouldn’t hit you.”

“That’s okay,” Sam said as he sat down. “Don’t worry about that.”

“I needed to be there.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“You know what my favorite thing to do with skittles and sprite is?”

“What?”

Dean had chosen to completely ignore the question and Sam wasn’t going to press it. He believed that he would get better and he’d find out eventually, but for now he wanted to know all about skittles and sprite.

“You take your favorite color and dump them in the bottle. Then you can have like strawberry sprite. The outside soaks off and you have the chewy part. What’s your favorite color?”

“Red.”

“Mine too. It’s like strawberries I think. Those strawberry runts are the best.”

“I like the chewy ones,” Sam laughed. “Do you like real strawberries?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I think tomorrow we can go to the grocery store and get some, we’ll get some runts too.”

“Cool.”

Dean opened up thee packs of skittles and proceeded to separate them in piles according to the color. He looked a little upset that his red pile was the smallest. Sam could tell it was smaller just by looking, but Dean felt inclined to count them and then compare that number to the number of purple ones. If he liked the red ones, Sam was going to get all of them.

He stood up and grabbed the rest of the bags and ripped everyone of them open until the small kitchen table was covered in a mosaic of little rainbow candies. Dean smiled at him for a second and then went right back to sorting. He took a sip of the sprite as soon as Sam gave it to him which was a good thing, because it would have overflowed after he starting dropping in all the red skittles. They sunk to the bottom and red dye started to dissipate into the liquid.

“Now we wait.”

“Why don’t you look at the menu and see if there’s anything else you want?”

“Okay.”

While he looked over the bright yellow menu Sam cleared off all the empty bags so he could throw them away. Dean seemed to be watching him very carefully. Sam hoped that he wasn’t scared, even though he realized how ridiculous that was. He wouldn’t have wanted to live with him so badly if he was scared. Besides studying the menu he also kept wiping at his face with the side of his hand. Sam noticed it on the drive home, and didn’t think much of it. Then he kept doing it until his face started to get a little red.

“Are hot peppers jalapeños?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well,” Dean sighed. “Pepperoni, sausage, ham, onions, green peppers, grilled onions, mushrooms and triple cheese.”

“That sounds great Dean. Are you okay? You’re making your skin all red.”

“I washed my face after I told the doctor to call you. It still feels dirty.”

Sam grabbed one of his well worn dish towels and ran it under the cool water. Even if Dean had already cleaned himself up he wanted to do it for him. He didn’t want him to keep rubbing it, because it would just bother him more if it was irritated. He was still swirling his sprite when Sam set next to him and stopped him in the middle of another wipe across his face.

“Let me do it for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dean closed his eyes and cringed when Sam pressed the dripping towel to his face. He didn’t want to wipe at it, he just wanted to press it in and let the cool water soothe him a little.

“That’s better Sammy.”

“Dean, why didn’t you stop him?” Sam asked. “Was he a big guy?”

“No, I was jus’ scared. I thought if I didn’t do anything he would jus’ leave. Then he said he’d be back. I don’t want him to hurt anyone.”

“He won’t, they arrested him, he’s in jail, he’ll be there for a long time.”

“But he hurt people before he came to my room. A lot of girls. That’s what he told me. He said he likes it when they bleed.”

“He won’t…”

“You bled, Sammy, that night.”

Sam remembered it so clearly, the look on Dean’s face once he pulled out and saw the streaks of blood. He was horrified because he thought he had hurt him, but he hadn’t. It was just a little blood and Sam wasn’t in any real pain at all. Even if he was, he wouldn’t have said anything. The sex was amazing and the blood was just an unexpected side effect of what they did.

There was a tiny tear, or something, Sam wasn’t really sure. It was his own fault because Dean had wanted to take it slow and ease himself in, but Sam kept thinking of Band-Aids. He knew it would hurt and thought the best thing to do was force Dean in. He just wanted him inside where he belonged.

When they fucked that first time, Dean didn’t even blink. His eyes stayed open while he stared down at Sam. The only time their eyes weren’t locked together was when he would drop his head down to kiss him or lick up the length of his neck.

When he came his face was twisted up and he was growling from deep within his gut. Sam kept praying that John would come home and catch them. He probably would have beat the shit out of Dean and told them both they were sick, but they would have been free. Sam would have gone to school and Dean would have gone with him. The hospital, the bills, none of that would have happened. Most of all, whatever happened to Dean could have been avoided if John had just come home.

Sam had also had a thought, just once, that John would have caught them and been okay. He would have seen them both smiling and understood even better than they did what love was. At the time they both knew they weren’t just getting each other off, it was more than that. It was love and then a little bit of blood.

Dean actually hurt him more once he pulled out and saw the blood. He pushed his legs back so hard Sam felt like he was going to break in two. There was a wet towel that night as well, one that Dean warmed under the faucet and pressed into him. It was white and by the time it had cooled, it was stained pink. Sam told him over and over again that it just happened when two guys fucked, but Dean was convinced he hurt him.

He wanted Sam to make him bleed, but he wouldn’t do it. Dean forced him in, but he could take it. If he did bleed from the sex Sam didn’t notice. He only bled when they split open their palms and made a promise to keep it a secret.

Sam had never told anyone, although he came close once. His roommate his freshman year had a different girl every weekend. He told Sam that there was no point in going to college if he didn’t sow his wild oats. That sounded so stupid because he was in college to get an education and an eventual job. His roommate was there to fuck as many girls as he could, so he could graduate, meet one girl, and then spend the rest of his life content because before he had her, he had everyone.

Sam wanted to tell him that he didn’t need a different person each week because the first person he slept with was going to be the last. Dean had been his first and it was like a visit to the amusement park. He had ridden the best coaster as soon as he paid admission and the rest just wouldn’t be exciting. They’d probably even be boring. Sam would get through them with a yawn and probably fall asleep in the middle of a two hundred foot drop.

“I told you that happens sometimes.”

“I didn’t bleed.”

“You’re stronger than me,” Sam said as he took the towel away. “Is that better?”

“I feel better, Sammy. Thank you.”

Once again Sam didn’t care about caution. He pressed his lips in against Dean’s damp cheek, where someone had come just a few hours ago. He wanted him to know that it didn’t matter what happened, nothing really mattered anymore because they were finally back together.

As soon as his lips left, Dean’s fingers were where they had been just pressing in firmly enough to displace the red coloration from his repeated wiping.

“I love you, Dean. I’m in love with you.”

“Maybe you’re the crazy one,” Dean laughed.

“Maybe so.” Sam smiled. “I guess I’ve always been crazy.”

“I am too, you know? I don’t know if I’m crazy, but I’ve always been in love with you.”

“You’re better already.”

“Well.” Dean shrugged. “Maybe if I can eat that whole pizza.”

“I’ll order it.”

Sam went to stand, and Dean got up with him. He grabbed his wrist again and spun him around. He still wouldn’t allow himself to take advantage of Dean, but he had no problem with being taken advantage of. Their lips met in the small kitchen, next to the table still covered with all the non-red skittles and Sam remembered that night once more. Dean was a little thinner, but his lips felt the same. His hands felt the same as he placed them at the back of Sam’s head and twisted his fingers in his hair.

“I’m sorry I hit you. I’m sorry I made you bleed.”

“And I’m sorry I left,” Sam said quietly. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you.”

“That was the only way Sammy. It was the only way to stop it.”

“Stop what?” Sam asked “You can tell me what happened.”

“Don’t forget my triple cheese,” Dean said handing him the menu. “Triple cheese.”

“How do you feel about quadruple cheese?”

“Get that for us.” Dean smiled as he sat back down at the table. “Quadruple cheese.”

The expression on Dean’s face made him look like he was about ten years old on Christmas morning. It was joy and a sort of undeserving apprehension about getting the one toy he had asked for. Maybe it wasn’t even a toy like a younger child would want, it was a gift he had wanted and felt didn’t really belong to him.

Their food arrived and Sam had it on the coffee table in front of the sofa while Dean just stared. Sam was hoping he’d rip open the box and start cramming it all down his throat, but he barely even moved. When the delivery driver came he stayed behind the door as close to Sam as he could get. He seemed a little more at ease when she spoke and he realized it was a woman.

Sam was surprised at the weight of the pizza, it was their extra large which he thought was about nineteen inches across, but the toppings did it in. When he finally opened the box, after it was clear Dean wasn’t going to, he was even more surprised because what was inside looked more like a round lasagna than a pizza.

When he ordered it he told them to pile on as much cheese as they could and then charge him accordingly. Apparently they were a business eager to please it’s customers because melted sticky cheese was so dense Sam couldn’t see any toppings on it. It was piled up at least an inch, higher in some areas and looked so good he was tempted to cram it into his mouth.

Dean finally went in for a slice and frowned as everything slid off. The crust wasn’t able to support the massive toppings and shed them as soon as it was no longer stationary. Sam studied his expression again and he no longer looked like a ten year old on Christmas morning and if he did, it as was a ten year old who didn’t get any presents, even though he deserved them.

It must have looked like the pizza they served in the cafeteria at the hospital which was as Sam understood just crust spread with sauce.

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Sam told him. “You know what we need?”

“What?” Dean asked.

“Plates and forks. What do you think?”

“That’s a pretty good idea, Sammy.”

“I’ll get them, check out the dessert pizza.”

Dean didn’t get up to follow him into the kitchen, but he did take his place on the sofa which let him watch. Sam watched back and waited. The entire time he was in the kitchen, which was less than a minute, Dean didn’t even look like he was blinking. Maybe he wasn’t even breathing. Sam didn’t want to find out, so he rushed back and sat down next to him.

“You have real forks.”

“I do.”

“We used plastic forks. They always break. Do you know how hard it is to eat real tough food without a knife?”

“You didn’t have knives?”

“Not me,” Dean sighed. “Not even plastic ones. They said I couldn’t because of the…hey can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Dean was about to refer to the incident, the first one. That was what Dr. Grosse called it. It was the same way he called the looney bin a facility. It wasn’t what made Dean check himself in, rather it was what happened after he showed up. No one knew where he got the razor from and it wasn’t like Dean was in sharing mood at the time.

Sam hadn’t found out what happened until Dr. Grosse took over Dean’s case and shared all the private information with him. When he first checked in, they had him in a normal room with his own bathroom and a schizophrenic roommate to call his own. One of the nurses found him half dead in the shower from the blood loss.

They didn’t view it as a suicide attempt because he had made many shallow cuts instead of one deep one in the right place that would have done it. Vertical was the way to go to finish it up quick, horizontal was for amateurs. Sam had learned that when he did research on what professionals called 'out letting. It was like 'facility', 'incident', or 'haven of well being'.

The act of blade, or any other object capable of cutting, was self mutilation, but the bleeding that came afterwards was 'out letting'. Sam read a dozen books after he found out what had happened during Dean’s first month alone, and while they were informative and borderline interesting, he still couldn’t figure out what had made him slip so far so fast.

Sam had never seen the scars, but the doctor assured him that they were there and numerous. Most people picked their arms because they were close and allowed the best control, but Dean had sat down in the shower and carved up his thighs. After that he lost his roommate and some of his roaming privileges around the hospital.

No one would leave him alone in the shower because if he had found one razor he could do it again. Of course, Dean was smart enough and every tool is a weapon if you hold it right. When he did it the second time he used a bobby pin of all things. They told Sam it looked like he bit off the rubber tip to expose the sharp metal beneath and went right back to work opening up his old scars. It was the same thing Sam had done to the wound on his hand, but knew when to quit and he was only doing it to make it more prominent.

They let him shave once a week, supervised, of course, with an electric razor, but after the second incident in the shower, he was never alone again unless he was locked in his room or outside in the garden. That was why the doctor had been so insistent that he not be left alone, because while it wasn’t a suicide attempt, Dean told them he was suicidal when he checked himself in and checked out from the rest of the world.

“Why didn’t dad ever come to see me?” Dean asked. “Did you tell him?”

“Of course I did.”

“Did you ever not want to see me?”

“Never.”

Dean had a fresh piece of pizza with all it’s toppings still attached on his plate, but there was so much on top of it he was having a little trouble with his fork. Once again Sam got up and Dean watched him while he went to get a butter knife they could share. Without hesitation he handed it to Dean and watched him stare at it like someone had just given him the keys to the kingdom or like when John gave him the keys to the car.

“I trust you with that.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Sam smiled. “If you do anything besides cut the pizza, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Will you do it for me?”

“Okay.”

Sam did trust him, but apparently he didn’t trust himself. While he cut up Dean’s slice of pizza Sam tried to find a way to sugarcoat the reason why John never showed up; at least the only reason he could come to. He hadn’t talked to him since he left for school. He heard his voice a few times a year when he would call on Christmas, father’s day and his birthday, but it was always the voice mail.

This is John Winchester. Leave a message.

And Sam left so many messages those first few weeks. He was going to ignore the fight they had because Dean was a bigger problem, or rather his condition was. Sam wasn’t sure if it was a condition. More than anything he was looking for answers, but John never returned a single call.

The last time he had called was for John’s birthday. He wished him happy birthday and told him he hoped he was doing well and then gave his update that happened three times a year. No, Dean still wasn’t talking, but he hadn’t been cutting so that was good. The doctor told him Dean was comfortable and taken care of, but he wasn’t making any progress.

In every phone call Sam mentioned that he was still paying the bill and would continue to do so even if it got a little harder every month. He closed every message with the address of the hospital and the phone number and then went every Saturday to ask if Dean had any other visitors and he never did.

“He’s dead isn’t he?”

“No, I know he’s not dead. He’s just an asshole.”

“How can you be sure?” Dean asked as Sam handed him the plate back. “He could be dead.”

“I called on his birthday and his phone was still on. The number still works and I have to assume that if he died someone would have called.”

“Are you gonna tell him I live here now?”

“I can leave him a message if you want. I haven’t talked to him since, you know.”

“That night?”

“Yeah.”

They had screamed at each other until Dean couldn’t take it anymore and he left to drink. John left after he told Sam that if he was leaving he wasn’t coming back. That was fine with Sam, because until Dean came back home he had no reason to come back. That night, their one perfect night, had made Sam completely forget everything John had said to him.

“When’s the last time you saw him?” Sam asked.

“When I left to come here. He told me to grow up and stop being a child. I told him that he never let me be one.”

“Is that why you…”

“No, after that.”

Dean had finished his first slice of pizza and got his second. Apparently he had moved beyond utensils and devised his own method for eating the mammoth slice. He slid it onto the plate like he had done with the first one and then held it up to his mouth. With the plate supporting it he could just nudge it forward and take one bite at a time. Sam was still using his fork, because he wasn’t very hungry, but he put it down so he could emulate Dean.

“Still want to be your big brother?”

“Always.” Sam smiled. “I never stopped.”

“Well can I ask you something else?”

“You can ask me anything, Dean.”

“I thought college was all about parties and getting drunk with your friends.”

“I guess it is,” Sam laughed. “But I stay home most of the time. I really just leave for work and school.”

“Still at a library?”

“Yeah.”

“I can come with you right? When you go to work and school?”

“I’m going to take some time off. Dr. Grosse gave me some of the money back so I can stay here with you.”

“You wanted to go to school more than anything.”

“And now I want to stay with you more than anything. School can wait. My job sucks and I’m really going to enjoy taking a break for however long it takes. I’m going to have a lot more fun hanging out with you instead of studying for exams.”

“Sammy, I need to go back to the hospital. I don’t want you to give up your whole life cuz’a me.”

Sam laughed even if it wasn’t funny. He didn’t have a life. He could barely cook dinner for himself. He saw people in class everyday and never talked to any of them. Some of them tried when he was a freshman, but then all those people remembered how preoccupied he always was and never tried again. There was a time when school meant everything, but Dean had always meant everything to him.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“A secret?” Dean asked. “Yeah.”

He had a rather large blob of tomato sauce hanging out the side of his mouth that made Sam smile. Without thinking he cleared it away with his thumb and stuck it in his mouth. That seemed to make Dean happy and him being happy made Sam even happier.

“The last time I had a life was that night with you. I’ve been living for the past few years with my eyes closed.”

“Why are they open now, Sammy?”

“That’s the only way I can look at you. I think I gave up my whole life when I came here and now I’m not giving up anything, just to be with you again.”

Sam felt alive and in love for the first time in his life. That night they were together was so frenzied and primal that the emotion behind the sex got overshadowed. Now as they were sitting on the couch with Dean still so broken, reserved and quiet he felt it, all of it and it was incredible.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting, maybe he thought that Dean would kiss him again like he had in the kitchen or at least say that he felt the same way. He knew how he felt, but Sam really wanted to hear it in the quiet tone of voice he had taken on like he was trying to figure out how to speak again after so much silence.

Like he had done earlier, Sam walked with him to the bathroom because he didn’t want him to be alone. Dean hesitated for a second before he kind of shrugged and sighed. He looked embarrassed, but he had pissed in front of him earlier with no problem at all.

“I have to…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t mind, if you need me, Dean.”

“I’m not going to do anything. I won’t lock the door.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded. “I trust you.”

“Just stay where you are.”

“I will.”

Dean nodded and walked into the bathroom alone for the first time. Before he went to close the door Sam spotted his razor sitting on the countertop. He had every intention of removing it or at least making it less noticeable, but he didn’t have a chance because since they walked into the apartment, Dean had been right next to him.

He had said he wouldn’t lock the door and he didn’t even bother closing it all the way. It was still cracked a little, enough for Sam to slip his fingers against the frame. If Dean tried to close or lock it, he was going to have to get through them first.

When he pissed earlier, before the pizza came and after his bottle of strawberry sprite, he asked Sam to go to the bathroom with him. He had no problem with it at all since he wasn’t comfortable with Dean being alone, especially when the bathroom could be just as hazardous as the kitchen. He had his razor, a whole pack of replacement blades, nail clippers with a little fold out pick that would cut, and a pair of sharp scissors he used to trim the errant nose hair that sometimes popped up.

Oddly enough he didn’t feel strange at all standing outside the bathroom where he could hear everything. He heard the seat lower, and the faint swoosh of Dean’s pajama pants being pushed down. He heard a very happy sigh that made him smile for some reason and finally Dean humming to himself.

He couldn’t place the song and didn’t know if Dean was doing it because he always did or if he was trying to disguise the less desirable sounds he may have made while sitting on the toilet. If he was making any, Sam couldn’t hear them. He heard the humming, the roll of the toilet paper and finally the flush.

The second he heard Dean raise the seat once again he pulled his fingers out of the door and waited. The whooshing water came next, followed by a very satisfying exhalation after he finished with his hands and washed off his face.

“Sammy, there’s a razor in here.”

“I know,” Sam said pushing open the door. “I’ll…”

“Hey, will you help me shave tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so tired of that electric razor, it hurts.”

“I know, I bought one right after I moved into the dorms. I only used it once.”

“Makes my skin all irritated.” Dean sighed. “I ate too much candy before pizza.”

“Are you full?”

“I was,” Dean laughed.

Sam laughed too because that simple exchange sounded so much like the old Dean. He had almost told him that he would get rid of the razor and the replacement blades because he had the electric one under the sink, but he didn’t have to. Dean had a chance to grab it and slam the door, but he didn’t. Then he made a joke, like he used to about making some room so he could eat more.

“There is,” Sam started as he hooked his arm through Dean’s. “A box over there we haven’t opened.”

“That’s dessert.”

“It is. I know we said we’d eat that whole pizza, but I don’t have it in me and you weren’t in there long enough to make enough room.”

“No,” Dean laughed. “I wasn’t, Sammy.”

Sam walked with him until they were back on the sofa and the box just needed to be opened. He could smell the cinnamon and sugar and he knew that Dean had to as well. It was everywhere all warm and spicy.

Unlike the other pizza it wasn’t so loaded that the toppings fell off as soon as Sam picked up a slice. It all stayed together while he held it up and Dean took that first blissful bite. He sighed again with his eyes closed and then chewed with a smile on his face.

“What do you think?”

“Better than Jell-O.”

When Sam showered that night Dean sat on the counter and talked to him the entire time. Sam made sure to leave the curtain pulled back a little so Dean wouldn’t feel like he was alone and if he had to see him he could. While he showered he wondered how long it might really take for Dean to be okay with everything. The doctor seemed to imply that it could take a long time, but Sam didn’t believe that. He was strong and determined about most things and Sam didn’t see it taking more than a few weeks.

Dean told him about when he first checked in and how his roommate really was crazy. His name was Mark, but somewhere along the line he had changed it to an unpronounceable symbol that looked like a musical note or an ampersand. Dean hadn’t said ampersand, but Sam knew what he meant because he said the and symbol, but not the addition symbol.

Mark had changed his name because the people in his head told him to so that when they came back to Earth they could find him. He would tell Dean all about how they were coming and how he was one of the few people that would survive. If Dean was his friend he could get in a good word for him. Of course, even in his state Dean realized that Mark was completely insane and kept his mouth shut.

After “What happened” Dean had to get his own room that was locked most of the time for the first few weeks and he rarely saw Mark. Eventually someone managed to fine-tune his medication and he was released while Dean stayed in the facility, quiet and alone. The only friend he really had was the nice older woman who brought him a blanket for Christmas.

She met with a group of other women, and maybe men, Dean wasn’t sure. They met once a week and either knitted, crotched or sewed up charity blankets and quilts that they would pass out during the holidays at hospitals, nursing homes and, of course, at the facility. The first quilt Dean got was red, white and blue flannel. It was a little lopsided and floppy, but she said it was her favorite because it was constructed with the scraps from another larger quilt she made for her son.

Dean liked it because of the colors, they reminded him of John, and it was very soft. Everyone else had bright fluorescent quilts that looked stupid and childish, but Dean had one that was made for a man and he got the leftovers.

The first time she came with the group, but when she came back on Dean’s birthday, she was alone. Sam had been there for his birthday too, but it was early in the day because he had later classes. He must have missed her, because from Dean’s best recollection she was there most of the day with him.

The second quilt she brought wasn’t made from scraps and it wasn’t part of a charity project. She had bought the fabrics specifically for Dean and worked on it alone with one specific purpose in mind.

The colors were all fairly neutral shades of beige and green and looked nice enough to Sam who didn’t know much about quilts. In an orderly grid across the top were several little white knots tied with a thicker cord, each one done by hand. She told Dean when she gave it to him that it was a prayer quilt and with each knot she tied, she prayed for him. One was for his health and another for his peace of mind. She tied a knot for him to find love and happiness, and to never give up on either of them no matter how dark things looked. She prayed and tied that on his birthday he got some special meal in the cafeteria, something that he would like.

She also brought him a small cupcake from a bakery nearby that Dean ate after she was gone. He spent his birthday on the bench outside, but he wasn’t cold at all, because he had two quilts, one of which was filled with prayers to keep him warm.

When Sam’s shower was done he wrapped himself in a towel before he pulled back the curtain. It was already obvious that they were together again, and while Dean had seen him in nothing at all, Sam wasn’t really ready to just be naked in front of him. It was mostly because they couldn’t do anything, not until Dean’s head was a little clearer. If Sam was naked, that was like a flashing neon sign that said 'look what you’re not sane enough to touch, or taste'.

And that night came back again because Dean had tasted every inch of his body. He started behind his ears and made his way down his neck. He spent what felt like hours on his chest darting back and between his nipples that he teased completely erect with his tongue. Dean even buried his mouth in Sam’s armpits and lapped at the hair. He hadn’t showered since that morning and at the time was concerned that he had the usual end of the day funk, especially after all the sweating he did while screaming at his father.

But Dean didn’t care because he needed to taste every inch of him, every hidden place that hadn’t bled yet. He even kissed the soles of his feet and sucked at his toes while Sam laughed and smiled the entire time.

“You’re hard.”

“What?”

“Your dick is hard,” Dean said pointing. “I can see it.”

Sam pulled the towel a little tighter and prayed to God he hadn’t turned as red as he felt. Dean had seen it before, he had sucked his cock, and felt it shoot inside of him, but Sam was still embarrassed, however ridiculous that may have been.

“Sometimes it’s the warm water.” Dean shrugged. “Or if you’re washing it.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Can I take a shower now?”

“Of course, should be plenty of hot water left.”

“I need you to stay in here with me, Sammy.”

“I will.”

“But,” Dean sighed. “I need you to close your eyes until I’m in there.”

“I’m going to brush my teeth with my eyes closed.” Sam smiled. “Is that okay?”

“I don’t have a toothbrush.”

“You can use mine.”

Dean nodded before Sam squirted the paste onto the brush. After he ran it under the sink he closed his eyes and started to brush. He could hear what sounded like Dean frantically undressing. He did it so quickly that Sam had barely made a full pass over his teeth before he heard the rings rattle against the curtain rod.

When he opened his eyes he could just barely make out the shifting line of Dean’s back and he started the water and quickly stepped away from it.

“You okay?”

“It was cold, it’s better now.”

“Okay. Just tell me when you’re done and I’ll close my eyes again.”

“Are you still hard, Sammy?”

Sam laughed with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and looked down past the ridges in his stomach to the bump in the towel. When he stepped out of the shower he was completely hard, but he had begun to deflate and he could feel the blood rushing away.

“No.”

“I get hard sometimes.”

“Me too,” Sam said. “I do too.”

As he brushed his teeth Sam kept his eyes on the painfully bright shower curtain. He watched how the fish printed on the vinyl would dance as Dean’s elbows bumped into them. When he moved into the apartment it was the very first thing he bought. He didn’t know how to cook, so pots and pans seemed like a waste of money.

The landlord had been fairly generous when he moved in, still trying to make up for his original apartment getting flooded. She had a few pieces of furniture left over from various tenants over the years that she gladly gave to Sam. At first it was just a small television and the sofa, but when she came to fix a leaking pipe under the kitchen sink she had seen that three months after moving in he still hadn’t bought any more furniture.

So the next day the metal kitchen table with it’s mismatched chairs showed up, and then a coffee table and the bed frame. He had to buy a mattress and a box spring, but he got those cheap at a discount store. He rationalized that it was okay to splurge on himself because his back ached every morning when he woke up on the sofa.

The shower curtain was one of the few things he bought and didn’t feel guilty about, mostly because it was cheap. He got it at a dollar store where he had to choose between the fish and something that looked like palm trees. He bought dinner there as well and still got change back from his five.

When he put it up he immediately regretted his choice because all the fish looked so happy and colorful. It looked juvenile and he was a sophomore in college who had been a man long before he was even a sophomore in high school.

That night he ate his dinner sitting on the counter and watching the fish. He still called it dinner even it was just a bag of funyuns, a chocolate bar and a bottle of coke. The next day when he was walking to the car, he spotted a dollar on the ground and that made him happy because his bright shower curtain was officially free. Sam still had that dollar inside the medicine cabinet where he stored it for safe keeping.

“I don’t want you to see me.”

“I know,” Sam said after he spit out the toothpaste.

“Not me, muh scars.”

“I know, Dean.”

“Do you care?”

The voice was so quiet Sam could barely hear it over the rush of the water. He want to rip back the curtain and just see how bad it was, but he wouldn’t do it. He would respect Dean’s wishes forever if he wanted him to. They could live a perfectly normal life not showering together and having sex in the dark under the covers.

The only thing Sam saw as a problem was how much he wanted to touch him, every part of him, because he didn’t care about the scars at all. They were attached to Dean and he was really the only person Sam could ever care about, the only person he could ever love.

“I love every piece of you,” Sam said as he moved towards the curtain. “I could never not love all of you.”

And in the span of one breath Sam saw Dean’s wet and trembling fingers against the bright vinyl. Surely if the fish were real, the pressure of Dean’s grip would have killed them. His nails were a little longer than they normally were and Sam watched as they dug in and separated the colors of the fish under his fingers.

It was a red fish with bright yellow stripes and as Dean dug in, those colors pulled apart like stretched skin and lightened up. Now the fish had scars, just like both of them. There was a low rattle and shake as the rings slid across the rod and he looked at Dean naked, like he did the first time.

Their first night together Dean undressed himself after they kissed besides Sam’s bed. He went slowly, taking his jacket off first and then kicking off his dusty boots. They were always tied so tight, but he managed to get them off with very little effort. His shirt and his undershirt went next until Sam felt obliged to help out.

He sat up in bed and only unlatched his belt buckle. Years later, every time he undid his own belt and heard that noise he would remember and he couldn’t blame his erection on the warm water of the shower.

When he unbuttoned his jeans Sam’s heart started to pound out a symphonic rhythm he knew Dean could hear. He stepped out of them as slowly as he could and took off his underwear. He had always worn black boxer briefs, but now he had white cotton standard boxers issued from the facility.

They were on the floor and Sam looked at them for just a split second before he looked back up to see what Dean had done to himself. It was almost beautiful in the most painful way Sam could imagine. Every raised pink scar was lined up so neatly next to it’s neighbors.

They wrapped around the front of his thighs, stretching from where his balls hung almost to his knees. Each one was so clearly defined that if Sam tried he would have been able to count them all .He was never going to because that number would be so high and knowing it would make him want to be like Dean even more.

“Do you think they’re ugly?”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “I don’t think that at all.”

“Will you help me?”

“Do you need help?”

“No.”

Dean held out his soapy wet hand and Sam stared at all the little bubbles before he took it and unknotted his towel so he could get into the shower for the second time. It fell to the ground as he stepped in and to his surprise Dean didn’t look down. He had after all memorized every part of Sam’s body during that night.

They both stayed quiet while Dean handed him the slippery bar of soap. Every time he went to the store Sam bought a different brand trying to find one that he liked. He had used gels and bars all with different scents, some were unscented and pure white. The one in his hand was marbled blue and green and some of those colors looked like Dean’s eyes.

Dean had already washed his hair, but left everything else for Sam. He started at his chest, which somehow managed to stay hard after so many years of doing nothing but sitting still and staying quiet so he could hear his own thoughts. The lather gathered up and stayed stuck to his skin because he had moved away from the spray of water. It was pounding down against Sam’s back like beads shaking in the wind.

He slid the bar of soap under Dean’s arms and scrubbed at the hair. He smiled when Dean smiled because it obviously tickled just slightly. He washed off his shoulders, neck and behind his ears. Dean even turned around so he could get his back. Once it was clean, Sam ignored his better judgment and pressed into him so he cold move his slick hands over Dean’s stomach. It was like his chest, just as Sam remembered.

As his dipped lower Sam could hear the quickening of his breath and finally the tiny gasp when he had Dean’s cock in his hand. He was flaccid and Sam wasn’t even sure if there was anything sexual about it. He wanted it to be, but if it wasn’t, that was no big deal.

He was so thick, and while he washed it Sam kept waiting for the inevitable plumping that never came. He ran his thumb around the ridge, and rolled Dean’s heavy wet balls in his hand feeling the thin fine hairs that dotted their surface. He only had him in a proper masturbatory position for a second while he rolled his fingers from the base to the thick head that had once made Sam feel like one of Pavlov’s dogs. It still did, but again he was waiting and swallowing all the saliva.

When he was done Dean turned to face him again with his whole body still covered in soap. It was all white and foamy, but all Sam could really see was his eyes. They watched each other the entire time he slid the bar of soap down Dean’s spine so the lather would slip and pool up.

Sam was hesitating, but stopped when Dean nodded just slightly to let him know it was okay. His fingers inched down barely moving. They were guided by the suds and slipped between the mounds of his ass without any real effort. Again Dean’s breath got a little faster when the tips of Sam’s middle and index fingers just brushed up against that puckered knot he had seen, tasted, and been inside before.

He pressed in with the gentlest pressure he could, using his middle finger to work the soap around in a slow tight circle. Dean was biting against his bottom lip as Sam felt every slow contraction and hot pulse of his hole against his fingertip. He could have stayed there forever, but he kept moving and pushed the lather through Dean’s slightly parted legs, across his taint which Sam had also seen, kissed, and savored until he met the resistance of his balls which were already soaped up and clean.

If he had stayed with his finger so close, he would have done what he did the first time he touched it. He was sucking Dean’s cock, that amazing cock that was built to fuck him, and pressed in gently before pushing in harder and then opening him up with his tongue. He hadn’t just kissed and licked it like he intended to at first. He held Dean open and got as far inside as he could. Dean had been pulling at his hair at the time and that only made him more determined.

Perhaps the most intimate part of the shower, in Sam’s opinion, happened when he bent down and was face to face with Dean’s cock. He still wasn’t hard, but Sam barely paid any attention to it. It was just above all the scars he washed, letting his fingers slide across them until they squeaked clean.

He was still covered in soap when Sam kissed both thighs trying to catch every scar. He would eventually do it properly, but with those few kisses he saw the twitching of Dean’s cock as it finally began to grow larger and turn a little redder.

Sam worked quickly to clean his legs and feet because he didn’t trust himself. He was on his knees and Dean was hard in front of him. He looked embarrassed, but he had no reason to be, because Sam’s erection came back as soon as he stepped into the shower. It was impossible to not be turned on when he saw Dean naked for the first time in years.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” Sam said as he stood back up. “Let’s get you washed off.”

“You felt good,” Dean told him as he moved under the spray.

“So did you.”

After their shower, the day caught up to Sam and he was exhausted. It wasn’t the shower itself, he had just been going all day and was mentally and physically exhausted. He was up early, like he was on most Saturdays because that was his day to spend with Dean.

Normally when he came home he’d sit on the sofa and try to think for a few hours. Every time they met he tried to find the perfect thing to say to get Dean talking. He had tried everything and finally someone else had made him talk.

Whoever the guy was deserved whatever was coming to him for assaulting so many people. The doctor never said how many it was, but apparently it wasn’t just the one girl they caught on tape. Sam wanted to kill him for what he had done to them and especially to Dean, but another part of him wanted to give thanks. No matter what horrible thing he did or might have done, he made Dean finally realize that the hospital wasn’t as safe as it should have been.

The only time either of them were ever safe was when they were together. Whether it was the bench in the garden, the car on the ride home, or even in the shower, Sam felt safe. Dean was currently in no position to be able to fend for himself, but it still made Sam feel secure in a way he never had.

He was sitting on the sofa next to him with a cup of hot chocolate while Sam had coffee to try and keep himself awake. He just wanted to get in bed, and close his eyes for a few hours. He didn’t have to sleep, he just wanted to be still and quiet.

Dean however was anything but quiet. He was talking a lot and as exhausted as Sam was he still listened and hung on every word. Just the noise was amazing to him since Dean had stayed silent for so long. Sam could tell he was getting more comfortable and a little less guarded.

He was telling him everything about his time in the hospital, but still hadn’t mentioned what happened before he went there. Sam reminded himself yet again that he’d find out eventually and that he shouldn’t ask because Dean always changed the subject and his behavior. He got a little angrier, the shift was subtle, but it was there. Sam wanted to keep him calm, because he was too tired to deal with that rage again.

In the hospital he almost made a friend. Her name was Emily and she was just a year younger than him. She was what Dean called a repeat offender. He had lots of colorful terms he had picked up from overhearing whispers around the hospital. He didn’t like anyone, but he was drawn to Emily. She was cute and seemed smart enough, but all Dean could really see was the darkness.

He said it with such conviction Sam had to ask what exactly it was. Dean had smiled and said he wasn’t really sure, but they both had it. Emily’s was a little darker and rooted a little deeper. The way he spoke about it made Sam break out in a cold sweat, because it was almost like Dean had fallen in love in the hospital or facility, he changed the word fairly often. He had fallen in love with the darkness and Emily was just the closest he could get to it.

The first time she tried to kill herself she was twelve and her father had been sneaking into her bedroom since she was eight. At first he was just touching her under the covers and telling her how smooth she was. Then it progressed to him making her suck his cock, and then he would fuck her every night. She’d scream into the pillow while her mother was passed out in the next room.

At twelve years old, after her mother died, she was ready to join her and swallowed every pill in the house she could find. Her oh so attentive father had found her in time and she went into counseling first and lied her way through progress. She told the doctor the other kids picked on her and she missed her mom, but she never said anything about the monster who came into her room every night.

She was sixteen when she got pregnant for the first time with her daughter and sister or son and brother. Her father had taken care of it with his own hands and twisted her up inside so it wouldn’t happen again.

Sam was so nauseous he wanted to beg Dean to stop, but he couldn’t even form words. He just stayed quiet and watched his lips move because any words were better than the silence. Sam just needed to hear his voice even if he was saying things that were so horrible he didn’t think he’d ever be able to sleep no matter how exhausted he was.

She got pregnant again at eighteen, Dean had said that first, and then corrected himself that her daddy made her pregnant. She always called him daddy like a child would, like she probably had when it first started. Emily attempted three times while she was eighteen years old, but her father had brought her the closest when he took care of her problem for the second time.

She bled, hemorrhaged, Dean said while nodding. That’s what she called it, that’s what she told him. Normally he tended to her wounds himself, but they were so severe he had to take her to the hospital where he cried and screamed that he would kill whoever had done it to his baby girl.

Emily tried again in the hospital with the sharp metal of the IV needle, but it was ragged and not precise. They had her on lockdown and under surveillance, but she still managed to slash up her wrists again the first chance she got the very next day.

Someone had finally intervened and got the truth out of her, but her father was long gone by that point. He had done as much damage as he could and no longer had any use for her. She had committed herself, much like Dean had and tried for the fourth time after she found out her ravaged womb would never create life again. She was filled up with too many twists and turns that shouldn’t have been there. There were too many scars, too much baggage for baby.

She had told Dean that since she was eight years old she wanted a child, because at the time she was already an adult. Her friends all had parties and sleepovers and all she had was her father forcing his way inside. He sodomized her every chance he got, and fucked her when he thought it was safe.

He did it every night while she thought about the child she’d have one day with someone who loved her. She was going to have a normal life because she had to prove to herself that not all parent’s were monsters. She’d be a good mother and love her child like her parent’s never loved her. No one had ever loved her.

The last day Dean saw her she asked if he did, and he simply nodded with more force than he had since he checked himself in. He wanted to tell her that he loved her and she’d find someone one day to love back, someone like Sam. Someone she could love with her whole heart and never be afraid of. All he did was nod because after all the only thing she wanted was confirmation.

“What happened to her?”

“Died. She finally did it. I kept listening and I never figured out how,” Dean said sipping his cocoa. “If I ever have a baby girl I’m going to name her Emily. I’ll go into her room every night and tell her how much I love her and make sure she’s tucked in real tight.”

“You’ll be a great dad.”

“Sammy, will you call dad?” Dean asked. “For me? I don’t have a phone. Ring ring.”

“We’ll get you a new one tomorrow, okay? I’ll call, but he may not answer.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded.

“And Sammy? I want you to talk to him like I’m not listening. He might come see me if you tell the truth.”

“I’ll tell the truth.”

Dean had several of his jellyrolls set out on the coffee table in lines and stacks just as neat as his scars. He grabbed one of them, probably his tenth of the day and slowly unwrapped it while Sam went to find his cell phone. Something as simple as unwrapping the cake was progress. He so rarely did it on his own in the hospital and now he had no problem handling it by himself.

Sam was a little nervous about how sporadic Dean’s bouts of clarity seemed. He told most of the story like the same old Dean that Sam remembered, but every few sentences his voice would stumble a little, like things weren’t really connecting correctly. It was probably just his body going through the withdrawals of whatever drugs they had him on. If it kept happening Sam was going to take him to the doctor, but that was a last resort. He felt like Dean had been medicated enough for the rest of his life.

Once he had his phone he sat back down next to him and smiled while Dean nibbled at the cake. That was something that never changed. He always ate them slow because he knew if he finished his box too quickly, he’d have to wait for the Saturday visit to get more.

“It’s ringing.”

“Good.”

“Give me a bite of that.”

Sam leaned over as Dean held it out for him. He didn’t want any, it was just his attempt to express an interest and make sure Dean knew that he was watching him back. Sam taking a tiny bite seemed to make him really happy. He even offered his cup of cocoa which Sam had a sip of.

“Want me to open one for you, Sammy?”

“No, I just wanted a…

“Hello?”

John’s voice sounded so foreign. After all, besides the outgoing message on his voicemail, Sam hadn’t heard it in years. It was live, like he had always been listening to the CD and now he was standing in the middle of an amphitheater. He should have rehearsed, but he had just dialed and not even considered the possibility of him answering.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Everything okay?” John asked. “It’s not my birthday, it’s not Christmas.”

“Nice of you to get my messages and then not return them.”

“What can I do for you, Sam?”

“Dean checked out of the hospital. He’s staying with me and he wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Put him on.”

“No, he’s sleeping.”

“I don’t wanna talk, Sammy.” Dean whispered. “I don’t wanna talk to him.”

Sam nodded and listened to the silence on the other end of the phone. John wasn’t talking, but he knew he was on the road. He was always on the goddamn road when he should have been there, being their father instead of a fucking general.

“Do you know what happened to him?” John asked.

“No, do you?”

“No,” John sighed. “Well, how is he? Is he okay?”

“He’s better,” Sam said looking at him. “We made a deal that he’s going to talk to me no matter what. We ordered pizza and he took a shower, now we’re having cocoa.”

“Sounds like a sleepover.”

“That’s what he wanted.”

“Is he still…”

“No, he’s not going to do that anymore. He was on about ten different medications and we’re going to try and get them out of his system.”

“Maybe he needs to be on them,” John said with another heavy sigh. “Why did he finally decide to leave?”

Dean had asked him very nicely to tell the truth, but Sam wasn’t sure how he should word it. He could say there was an incident like the doctor had. He could tell him someone had masturbated on him and then promised to come back to rape him the next night. He decided on a combination of the two because Dean wanted him to tell the truth.

“They arrested an orderly for raping several patients, so he asked to come home with me.”

“Sammy, did someone rape him?”

John sounded like he was speaking a foreign language when he said 'Sammy'. Dean had yet to call him Sam, which he did all the time before the hospital. He liked that he was calling him Sammy because that was just for him. It was something that he had that no one else would get to have. He could hold on to it and know that he was unique.

“The orderly masturbated on him and then said he’d rape him the next night.”

“Jesus Christ. Why didn’t he do anything?”

“Because they gave him pills and he was too drugged up to do anything.”

“Alright, listen. I’m in Utah. I’ll come pick him up or we can meet Nevada or something. I can be there in the morning.”

“Excuse me?” Sam asked. “No, you can come here and see him, but he’s staying with me. I’m going to take some time off from school until he’s better.”

“No. You can’t drop out when you’re about to graduate.”

“Funny, you didn’t want me to go now you don’t want me to stop going. Since you haven’t spoken to me in three years maybe you don’t realize I’m an adult capable of making my own choices and I choose to stay here and take of my brother.”

“You weren’t concerned with taking care of your brother when you left.”

“What does that mean?”

“You have no idea how hard it was on him. You’re probably the reason he’s been locked up for so long. You did this to him.”

“Get something to write down my address.”

“I know where you live. Top floor apartment, blue building on Sycamore.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’d be a pretty shitty father if I didn’t look after my son. I’ll be there in the morning.”

Those background driving noises faded as the line went dead while Sam still had the phone to his ear. Not once the entire time Dean was in hospital did he think he was there because of him. Because of something he did or neglected to do. He always assumed that it was someone else, something else. If he was in any way responsible for what Dean had put himself through he felt like he would have to go looking for that same seductive darkness.

“You didn’t tell him bye.”

“He hung up.”

“Is he coming to see us, Sammy?”

“He’s coming to see you,” Sam said as he swallowed hard. “He’ll be here in the morning.”

“Does he want me to leave with him?”

“I think so.”

“Well…”

“I can’t lose you again,” Sam said. “You can’t leave. I mean, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to…”

Sam paused so he could take a breath. He hadn’t cried hard since he left the hospital and he wasn’t about to do it now. Dean was watching him so closely with a glazed over look to his eyes. Sam wanted to cry so bad and tell him to snap out of it. He wanted to be selfish for just a second and ask him to be there for him. Instead he sipped at his coffee and bit down on his bottom lip when the mug was hiding his mouth. He tasted copper and sighed a little. That was all it took for him to understand why Dean had carved himself up. That little bit of pain did wonders.

“Is dad coming to see us?”

“Yeah. He’s coming to see us.”

“Does he want me to leave with him?” Dean asked again.

Sam could tell he had no recollection of the conversation that just took place. It was seconds ago, not even thirty if he knew anything about time. Things weren’t lining up for Dean, not like they should have been.

“Yes.”

“I’m staying here, Sammy. I want to stay with you, don’t make me leave with him.”

“Did he do something to you?”

Sam wouldn’t have asked, but Dean sounded so scared and scattered. He didn’t want to believe that John would hurt his own child, especially now that he knew he had been checking up on him at Stanford.

“Like what?”

“Did he,” Sam sighed. “Did he hurt you?”

“My feelings.” Dean shrugged. “I asked for a hug after you left and he told me no, then he pushed me when I tried.”

“And then you left for the hospital?”

“After that.”

“Right after that?”

“No, a few days later.”

“We’re you there because of me?” Sam asked. “You can tell me.”

“I’m real tired. I want to go to bed now.”

“Please tell…”

“I want to go to bed.”

He still wasn’t ready to talk, but he didn’t have to. Sam knew he had to be at least partly responsible for whatever had happened. As much as he was dreading seeing John he might be able to fill in some missing pieces. Nothing made sense, no matter how many different ways he rearranged the pieces. Dean had always been so strong, but now he was broken and holding out his hand for Sam to take.

“Can I hug you?”

“Of course you can.”

While he held on to his hand, Dean went in for his hug. It was so tight Sam remembered the strength he once had and knew that eventually he’d find it again. His arms were the only place in the apartment that felt like home. He wanted to grab his face and kiss him until the sun rose, but he held on instead inhaling deeply to smell the soap on Dean’s skin.

When Sam fell asleep that night he was still holding on to Dean. He thought the apartment was too hot, so they were on top of the covers. Sam had lowered the air, but it always took a while to cool things down. It wasn’t really hot or even warm, but Dean was obviously dealing with those few hours medication free so Sam tried to make it comfortable.

After the conversation about Emily he had no idea how he was going to sleep, but as soon as his head touched the pillow he started to dream while trying to keep his eyes open until Dean drifted off.

As it was most nights, he dreamed about the first bed they shared in that shitty rental house where the kitchen ceiling leaked every time it rained. The landlord had said she fixed it twice and if it was leaking it was their fault. The rain would start and then the plaster would weep drops into a big red bucket and a smaller pot Sam found when they moved in.

The kitchen always seemed to strange to him because they never cooked. Even when they were in a proper house with a kitchen it was mostly ignored for orders of pizza or greasy fast food.

Before Sam and John tore into each other, Dean had driven out of town to his favorite Mexican drive-thru. He liked the tacos there best even though there were Taco Bell’s everywhere. It was a Sunday and they were thirty-nine cents each. He came home with so many Sam was sure he robbed the place but he hadn’t. He had bought them as one last special going away dinner.

They never got to eat that night because John came home and told them to pack their shit. He had made a new enemy and they had to move on. Sam wasn’t going anywhere except to California for school and until he left, he wasn’t leaving.

And then they fought while Dean stayed quiet and ignored his tacos. They were his favorite food at the time, but he wouldn’t eat them. It was like he couldn’t coordinate the function of hand to mouth when they were so much noise.

He eventually left and came back to find Sam crying in his bedroom while he finished packing. Then there wasn’t any noise except for the guttural groans and shallow gasps followed by more screaming when Dean saw his blood streaked cock all pink and shiny from the lube.

Sam was feral that night and he just wanted to feel Dean come hard into him again. He didn’t care about blood, all he cared about was Dean and how good he felt buried to the hilt inside of him.

When it was his turn to get fucked Dean got down in bed and demanded to bleed, but it wouldn’t happen. Sam dreamed about how his cock felt when the fat red head slipped past the tight muscled ring of Dean’s hole. He had hesitated and felt the slit of his cock catching against those velvet soft wrinkled puckers. He had tasted them and traced each one with his tongue. Dean was sweaty when he came home as a result of too many beers while seated on a vinyl covered barstool.

He had the tiniest spray of hair scattered across that pink knot and Sam loved all of it. He savored the sweat on his tongue and how Dean smelled like a man, a real man. He was his man that night. He remembered just popping the head into his hole and how satisfying it felt, like bubble wrap.

His dream felt so real until he heard a tiny near inaudible grunt that woke him up. His dream was being directly influenced by reality. Dean’s fingers were wrapped around his hard cock and he was trying his best to get it inside. It was painful for Sam and he couldn’t imagine how much it must have been hurting Dean.

“Stop,” Sam whispered.

“I need you.”

“You’re going to hurt yourself. Stop.”

“I don’t care, Sammy. I need you to do this for me.”

“No.”

Even though he didn’t want to, Sam still tried to pull away. Dean had such a grip on him, his fingernails dragged across the already sensitive shaft causing Sam to freeze up and bit down on his lip again.

“Let me try, I can do it, Sammy.”

“Not now Dean, please. When you’re better.”

“This will make me better.”

Sam could hear the breaks in his voice between the words. He didn’t need to see the tears to know that he was crying. He was shaking too, subtle little quakes Sam could feel every few seconds. It was like he was scared, but he wouldn’t stop himself from trying to it get inside.

“Please stop Dean,” Sam whispered. “I’m begging you, please.”

“No.”

It would have taken one hard twist to get away from him. He could have rolled over and dealt with the scratches on his prick in the morning, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to fuck Dean back into existence, dry and raw until he emptied his balls inside of him.

“Please, Sammy. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“Don’t make me do this.”

“I need you to get better. It’s so hot in here and I can’t sleep without my blue pills.”

“Let me go get something, I have conditioner.”

“No.”

Dean was still trying his best, but he couldn’t get him in. Sam was going to have to do it. He wasn’t sure if it was actually going to make him better, but if Dean believed it, that was good enough. He slid his hands off Dean’s chest until they were on his hips and with one swift movement he pulled him back and pushed in as hard as it could.

It hurt Sam, it was painful and uncomfortable, but he didn’t scream, not like Dean did for just three seconds at the most. It was loud enough to probably wake the whole building, but Sam had always been a model tenant and he deserved a little noise.

“I want it hard. Make me bleed, Sammy. Please.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I need you to,” Dean pleaded with a backwards glance over his shoulder. “Your brother needs you.”

His childlike voice was back. It bordered on obscene, especially when Sam had his dry cock lodge balls deep in his equally dry, even rough asshole. He remembered the first time Dean had said he needed him. It was four years before they slept together, and at the time he said it through gritted teeth and squinted eyes pouring out tears. It sounded like an order and Sam wanted to follow.

At eighteen years old Dean had taken his first of what would eventually be many bullets and came home cursing, drunk and bleeding all over the house. Sam had been enjoying a nice night at home alone doing absolutely nothing. It didn’t happen often but when it did he was grateful.

He saw the blood first as Dean ran through the door and into the nearest bathroom. They never used it because even flushing the empty toilet left it stopped up. Dean had tried to fix it, but without an engine he was dumb.

Sam felt like Hansel as he followed the trail of deep red drops of blood. They almost looked black against the scuffed and faded hardwood floors. Each one called out to him like drip, drip, this way Sammy. Follow us because big brother is dying behind the door and he needs little brother to save him.

Sam offered assistance and Dean refused because he was fourteen and far too young to dig a bullet out of his arm. The pain was incredible and the bottle of whiskey he downed to numb it only impaired his ability to get it out himself. He finally did need to accept help, and he did it by saying, “Your brother needs you.”

After they finally slept together, Dean confessed he had wanted him since the very moment he walked into the bathroom. He never said he fell in love, but he did. He fell in love with Sam’s long thin fingers against his bicep and the way he looked even more pained to dig the bullet out. Dean fell in love with all those lopsided utilitarian stitches that pulled him back together and closed up the hole.

That experience set into motion what Sam would eventually realize was four years of foreplay. He let his fingers linger on Dean’s skin and kept leaning in to smell the copper and sweat. He even enjoyed the sour smell of his breath that was like whiskey and what he later identified as vomit

Sam had wanted to tell him even at fourteen years old that he wanted Dean to fuck him and finalize his ascent into manhood that had started when he was around six years old and realized their family was different. At the time he had only been masturbating regularly for a year, and every quick furious orgasm he brought himself to happened because he saw Dean in his head.

He thought about sucking his cock and making him come. He’d finger himself in the shower, starting off with one and then moving to three, all the while pretending it was that cock he hadn’t seen nearly enough.

“Fuck me.”

“I will,” Sam whispered. “I will.”

“Hard Sammy.”

The first time they fucked, there was resistance, but Sam had slid in fairly easily. Now it was like he was trying to fuck a brick wall. He was hard, but Dean was far too tight for it to be enjoyable for either of them. Still, Sam fucked him because he said it would make him better, and in the dark, cold bedroom of his apartment he wanted to believe that.

He pulled out slowly until only the head remained before shoving back in hard. They were both on their sides and in that position Sam couldn’t fuck him hard – at least not when there was so much resistance. He was like a vice, tight, but most of all dry and warm.

Sam had always dreamed about fucking Dean again, but it was so uncomfortable and painful he just wanted to come and get it over with. He pushed him over hard and rolled on top of his back. That gave him the leverage he needed to really pound in roughly and do his best to bring up a little blood.

When Sam bled Dean had been so gentle, but his body couldn’t handle it. He tore, or maybe it was a tiny fissure, a crack somewhere inside, even a rip seemed like an appropriate description of whatever happened. It stung a little when he showered and shit the next day, but after that he didn’t feel anything, except the constant phantom sensation that Dean was still inside. Every time he thought about it, he could still feel how his thick cock grew even more and the spongy head pulsed when he came.

Most of all he remembered what it was like afterwards. When he was fucking Dean he could feel his load seeping out slowly. It was dripping almost, coating his thighs in more pink.

“Harder Sammy,” Dean said into the pillow. “I want to feel again.”

“I know.”

If Dean would have been sleeping bare-chested he would have felt those solitary tears dripping onto his back while Sam drove in as hard as he could. It was painful for him, but he didn’t care. All he was concerned about was that Dean needed the pain. He wanted to feel and as much as it was killing Sam, he still pushed in harder and rougher with every thrust.

He fucked him and Sam let his mind wander back to the darkness. He thought for just a second that Dean had been attracted to him for the same reason he was drawn to Emily. Maybe he saw the same thing in both of them. Obviously hers was a little deeper, but Sam had it too. His was dark enough to make him fuck the blood out of someone who clearly wasn’t completely there. Dean was a little damaged and while he might be okay eventually, currently he was shattered.

“Come on, Sammy. Like that night, right inside.”

“I know.”

Sam was close and apparently Dean knew it because he started to raise his ass with every thrust. He wanted it deeper and Sam decided to lose himself in the moment and do as much jerking and awkward twisting as he could. He wanted to see the blood when he pulled out only so he could show it to Dean.

When he came his chest was against the soft cotton of Dean’s back. His hips were twitching erratically as he tried to drive the first shot as far inside as it would go.

“You can stay with me,” Sam whispered into his ear. “It’ll just be the two of us and no one has to know.”

“You could save me.”

“If you let me.”

As his orgasm faded, he collapsed on top of him exhausted and just as fucked up and emotionally damaged as Dean was. He had fucked him after he said he wouldn’t. He wanted to wait until Dean was better, but he didn’t think he had much of a choice. If it was going to help him, Sam would have gladly emptied his balls into him until the sun rose. They still would have been fucking when John arrived and neither of them would have cared.

Sam pulled out slowly while Dean screamed into the pillow again. It had done the trick and he could feel, but now Sam felt numb like he had fucked every ounce of life he had into Dean because his brother needed him.

“There’s blood.”

“Is there?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “There is.”

He was up on his knees with his pink streaked cock sticking straight out in the night when Dean frantically searched to turn on the lamp. Sam knew he would want proof and he got it when the bedroom lit up and he saw the blood. It wasn’t much, but it was there coating the length of his cock in red, pink and white come colored swirls.

Dean hesitated for a second before he leaned in and took Sam’s cock into his mouth. His tongue swirled and he sucked, not like the first time he did it. Now it wasn’t a blowjob, he was cleaning up and taking back something that was his and savoring something that was Sam’s.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Sam asked.

“No,” Dean said quietly. “Not tonight.”

He had the smallest pink dot on his bottom lip that Sam felt inclined to get rid of for him. He caught it with his tongue before biting Dean’s lip as gently as he could. That darkness was inside of him and he wanted to bite down hard and give his scars a new friend to play with. He held back though and only tasted the copper and salt of his load.

“Let me suck your cock then.”

“No.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I’m just real, real tired.”

“Okay.”

Sam pulled Dean’s threadbare pajama pants back up for him before he pulled up his own pants and laid back down. He wasn’t going to make him do anything he didn’t want to even if it did seem particularly appropriate

“Everyone can feel it,” Dean whispered. “Everywhere, they all know.”

“Know what?” Sam asked.

“How much I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Are you excited about seeing dad?” Dean asked. “Tell me the truth.”

“No.”

“He loves you, Sammy. He loves us more than we can love each other.”

“I know that. I miss him everyday.”

“He was real proud of you. I am too.”

“Thank you,” Sam said as he kissed his neck. “Get some sleep.”

“You too. Goodnight Sammy.”

“Goodnight.”

Sam got his few minutes before they fucked and he completely recharged so he could spend the whole night feeling Dean breathe in his arms.

Sam was jerked out of sleep in the morning by some unseen force that told him to wake up. He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, just that being next to Dean had made him sleep better than he had in his whole life regardless of the amount of time he was out.

His bedroom only had one window on the west side of the room so the sun never shone directly in his eyes. It would filter in slowly and let him wake up even slower. Most mornings he had to set his alarm to get up because he could very well sleep all day if he hadn’t. He was exhausted most of the time from school and worrying about Dean.

Now he only had to worry about one of those things, that was, of course, if Dean was still around. Sam woke up alone still on top of the bedspread. It was the same one he bought for his dorm before he moved to California. It didn’t fit his current larger bed, but it was enough to cover him.

It had started off a deep, rich blue, but repeated washing had faded it into a dusty primary shade. Sometimes Sam missed the color it was because while it was dark it still looked bright and saturated. Dean had actually taken him to buy it and recommended a lighter color to hide the come stains it was sure to be riddle with once Sam got through with it. It was before they slept together for the first time, but Dean had rightly assumed that he was a very messy boy.

In the dim morning light he could see the patch of dusty white that had leaked out of Dean and dried overnight. It looked like chalk and without thinking Sam licked at his thumb and wiped it across the hard fibers. It was the lightest shade of pink that most people would have said was white, but Sam knew better. It was blood stained just barely, like Dean was.

Sam yawned for another second and took in a deep breath. That was when he smelled something burning. It was faint, like the stain, but he still picked it up and jumped out of bed to investigate. It wasn’t enough to set off the smoke alarm he checked every month, but it was there.

He saw the knives on the table before he even noticed Dean standing in the kitchen. Every knife he had was on the table in a very orderly grid. It was his butter knives and the two steak knives he had. The bigger chef’s knife was at the top of the table next to scissors, nail clippers and even the one weapon Sam kept buried deep inside his closet.

Dean had found everything he could hurt himself with and laid it out on the table. Sam wasn’t even sure how he did it without waking him up, because he knew the sickle was buried deep under boxes and behind piles of clothes. He was a very light sleeper, but either the exhaustion caught up to him or Dean was much quieter than he could have imagined.

“What is this?”

“I made you breakfast Sammy,” Dean said turning around. “I burned some toast, but I’ll eat it.”

“What are you doing with all these knives?”

Dean looked at all of them before he went back to the stove. He was frying the bread to make toast which made sense since Sam didn’t have a toaster. He seemed to be doing a pretty good job for himself and even had a carton of eggs sitting on the counter next to him.

“I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“No.” Dean shook his head.

“I’m not mad,” Sam said as he walked towards him. “Why did you take everything out?”

“So you could make a list. Four butter knives, two steak knives, that big knife, your sickle, and the rest of that stuff. Keep track, make sure it doesn’t go missing.”

Sam went for the sickle first. It was still so shiny even after sitting in the closet for so many years. He remembered the last time he held it when he was in action before it got stored away. Looking back, that hunt might have been the first time they fucked without having sex. They were in perfect harmony with each other. Dean was firing his gun and Sam was swinging out with the sickle.

It could have been choreographed because Sam could feel the wind of each bullet passing around him. They worked perfectly together with such precision even John complimented them after it was over.

“Okay.”

“I gave you that, ‘member?”

“Yeah. That’s why I still have it.”

Sam twisted it in his hand so he could see himself just like he had on his sixteenth birthday when Dean gave it to him. He had a gun at the time as well, but after that he always used the sickle every chance he got. It had been wrapped in the funny pages and just covered in tape which was a deliberate choice Dean made to make it more difficult to open.

“When is dad coming?”

“I don’t know, he said in the morning.”

“Do you have time to show me how to make eggs?”

“Sure.” Sam smiled. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not too good. Nightmares.”

“About what?”

“Stuff.” Dean shrugged. “You ever have nightmares?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you ever dream stuff and then it happens?”

“No, do you?”

“No.”

Sam wanted to ask what kind of nightmares he was having and why he wanted to know if his own nightmares were prophetic. He knew better though, because it hadn’t even been twenty-fours hours yet and he could already tell when Dean wasn’t willing to discuss something. He’d answer a question quickly and then avert his gaze. He was very fond of staring at his feet or just off in the distance at nothing in particular. In the kitchen he quickly turned back to the stove and pulled the piece of toast out with his fingers.

“Careful.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Sam said handing him a spatula. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I said I wouldn’t.”

“No, I meant burn yourself. Don’t burn your fingers.”

Dean smiled at him like he was a child again and held his fingers up. Sam didn’t hesitate at all. He kissed the tips and watched Dean’s smile spread a little wider.

“I’m so in love with you.”

“Really?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, really.”

“Thank you for last night, Sammy. I needed you.”

“I needed you too, but I won’t do that again, not like that.”

“Okay.”

“Are you sore?” Sam asked.

“A little.” Dean shrugged. “I was a little sore last time too. Maybe more this time. I tried to check, but I can’t see.”

“Do you want me to?”

“After breakfast?”

“Okay.”

Sam had no problem with making sure he was okay. He seemed fine, even more lucid than he was yesterday. He seemed to be a little more in control of himself. There was no telling what would happen as the drugs kept working their way out his system or what might happen when John showed up.

All those things could wait because Dean wanted to learn how to make eggs and while Sam wasn’t a master chef, that was something he could do. He had them for dinner sometimes if he didn’t feel like pasta or a chicken breast. He usually broke the yolk so most of the time he just made scrambled eggs, but he knew Dean liked them over easy.

“Do you want to break the egg?”

“You better do the first one and I’ll watch.”

Dean already had the butter out for his toast, so Sam grabbed a knife from the table and cut off a small pat. Dean was watching him like he was performing brain surgery and he would be expected to do the same as soon as he was done. As the butter melted, Sam started to pray that just once he could fry and egg and not break the yolk. Most of the time he ended-up breaking it before he even got it all the way out of the shell.

Luck was on his side because the egg cracked in half perfectly and slid down into the sizzling butter.

“It’ll get a little white and then we’ll turn it.”

“If you break the yolk it’s okay.”

“You like to sop it up, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t break it then.”

“At the hospital we always had scrambled eggs,” Dean sighed. “Always real wet. I don’t think they were real.”

“Probably powdered. A lot of places use them because they last a really long time and they’re cheaper.”

“I think we should always use real eggs.”

“So do I.”

“Can I say this is our apartment?”

Sam smiled and held his breath while he flipped the egg over. It didn’t break, in fact it looked like the most perfect fried egg had ever seen, like the kind they sold as fake food for children’s kitchen play sets.

He loved the idea of the apartment being theirs. He had always dreamed about their life together if Dean had gone with him when he left for school. They’d be a couple and make friends together. Dean would have a job, probably at a garage somewhere and Sam would go to school. They could meet up at the end of the day and cook dinner together and just be together.

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I like our apartment. Maybe one day we can get a plant or maybe a cat.”

“We can definitely get a plant when we go to the grocery store later.”

“I don’t want to leave yet,” Dean said quickly. “I’m not ready to leave yet and you can’t leave me here alone.”

“Okay, it’s okay. Dad can stay and I’ll go.”

“No! I don’t want to be alone with him, you have to stay here with me and he can take a list and go. He can do that for us, Sammy, he can do that if we ask him!”

Dean was screaming and shaking. He was talking so fast Sam barely understood the words. It all came out like terror and he wasn’t sure if it was being without him or being alone with John that had him so scared.

He grabbed Dean’s hands and held on to them for just a second until he stopped shaking and his breath slowed to a normal pace. He had even broken out in a sweat that had Sam more scared than all the knives on the table.

“I won’t leave you, I promise.”

“Don’t leave me alone, Sammy.”

“You’ll never be alone again. I promise.”

“Don’t let him yell at me. I didn’t mean to do it. I was just so sad and I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to, Sammy.”

“What didn’t…”

“He yelled so loud at me. Louder than ever. My ears still hurt.”

Sam kept holding his hands while he used his left hand to take the egg out of the pan. If it cooked too long the yolk wouldn’t run and it might as well have been broken if Dean couldn’t sop it up with his burnt toast.

“Why did he yell?”

“He was mad at me because I missed you so much. I just wanted a hug and he pushed me, I hurt my arm.”

“He hurt you?”

“I made him mad. I don’t want to talk, because if I…”

“Okay.” Sam nodded. “We don’t have to. I made your egg and you can eat it.”

“It looks real good Sammy. Like a diner.”

“Yeah, sit down, I’ll get you something to drink.”

Dean nodded too and then moved to the table. He pushed all the knives out of the way very carefully so he could make room. Sam was afraid to turn his back, but he did it anyway to pull out a carton of orange juice.

He had no idea what had happened, but even if John had pushed him, he knew he had never meant to hurt him, and that alone wouldn’t have sent him to the hospital. It had to be something else, something worse than the loudest yelling Dean had ever heard.

“Do you still want him to come?”

“Yeah, I do. I miss him.”

“Me too,” Sam said as he poured a glass of juice. “We’ll make a list and send him to the grocery. We’ll have to go eventually though.”

“I know, but I like staying at our apartment.”

“I like that we have an apartment.”

Dean smiled at him and then went for the yolk Sam had been so careful not to break. He pierced it with his real metal fork sending the bright yellow across the white plate. It looked so sad alone on the plate so Sam cracked another one into the pan. He wasn’t really in the mood for breakfast, but he knew Dean would want more than one.

“This egg is real good.”

“Thanks.” Sam smiled. “I don’t cook much. I eat a lot of spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti is good too.”

“Do you want anything special when we send dad to the grocery?” Sam asked. “I mean I can’t cook much, but if you wanted something we can try.”

“At the hospital,” Dean started. “We never had hotdogs. You know those hotdogs with the cheese inside them?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you make me those? You can boil them and just get some chili from a can, maybe some onions, no, not onions.”

“You love onions,” Sam said as he gave him the second egg. “We can get onions.”

“Dad don’t like ‘em.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Sammy, he told me one day.”

Sam hoped that John would be able to come in and save the day like he always seemed to when they really needed him, but Dean seem to be under the impression that he was coming and would hang out for a while. Even staying for dinner seemed to be hoping for too much. Sam knew that he would go to the grocery for them, but anything after that was a long shot.

“What else doesn’t he like?”

“Tuna fish.” Dean laughed. “Tuna fish sandwiches. He had one when he was a kid and it made him real sick and now he can’t eat them. He used to like them.”

“I like tuna fish.”

“I like Vienna sausages. I can only eat like two before they gross me out, can we get some of those?”

“I’ll make a list.”

“Are there not enough eggs for you?” Dean frowned. “You can have my second one.”

“No, I’m still full from pizza. I’m okay.”

“Well, okay.”

“You tell me everything you want and we’ll get it.”

Sam had his a piece of paper and a pencil ready and waiting. Dean thought about it for a few seconds before he started to rattle off everything he wanted. The hot dogs were their priority because he hadn’t eaten any in a long time. He wanted the Vienna sausages, two cans just in case, and some crunchy peanut butter.

He really wanted some more candy because that was something he didn’t have at all in the hospital, much like hot dogs. He wanted chewy runts if Sam thought John could find them, and maybe a chocolate bar if that was okay, which it was.

Sam had made a dozen grocery lists while he was living on his own, but making one for Dean was the most fun he had in years. Food made him happy and he deserved it after the shitty meals he had been eating in the hospital. He even seemed more coherent when he was talking about it. With a little luck he’d probably be able to gain back the weight he lost in a few weeks. He didn’t look bad, just a little thin especially in his face.

When the list was done, Sam dug out all the cash he had in his wallet and placed it on the kitchen counter for when John came. He’d have to get to the bank to deposit the check, but until then he had his debit card and a few mostly unused credit cards. If they needed to, they’d be fine locked inside the apartment for a few weeks. Sam knew one of the grocery stores had to deliver, and if they didn’t he could always just order food until Dean was ready to venture out into the world again.

After he was done eating, Dean took his plate to the sink and washed it off without being asked. Sam thought he’d maybe just place it in the sink, but he washed it, dried it, and tucked it back into the cabinet. He even washed out the frying pan and made a very quick swipe across the counter to clear up the stray crumbs from his burnt toast.

“I did the dishes Sammy.” Dean smiled. “But I don’t feel too good. I feel funny.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know, just different. Do you think it’s from the drugs?”

“Probably, do you feel nauseous?”

“No, just kind of like I’m standing outside of myself. I’m tired too.”

“You wanna go lie back down and wait for dad?”

“Will you lay down with me?” Dean asked. “You said you’d check my, you know.”

“I did and I will, let me get a wet towel and I’ll check you out and then we can go back to sleep.”

“I was just so hungry.”

“Full now?” Sam asked.

“Yep.” Dean nodded.

Dean followed him to the bathroom shadowing his every step while he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the cool water. He didn’t know how bad off Dean was, but it seemed like the wet towel would help things out.

He was shy again once they got to the bedroom, like he couldn’t look at Sam while he pushed down his pajama pants. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, but he had been when they went to sleep so he must have discarded them after he woke up and ransacked the apartment.

He obviously didn’t care about being naked, it was the scars, Sam could tell just by the way he was trying to shield them with his palms and outstretched fingers.

“You don’t have to hide.”

“You really don’t think I’m ugly?”

“No.” Sam smiled. “I don’t. That’s your story.”

“Three hundred and sixty-five stories,” Dean said as he laid down on the bed. “That’s a year.”

“Why a year?”

“That’s all you get sometimes.”

Again Sam chose to not ask for elaboration because he didn’t think he could handle Dean changing the subject again. Every hour that passed provided a new piece of the puzzle and eventually he knew he would see the whole picture.

Dean was on his stomach and pulled his right leg up as Sam sat on the bed next to him. All he had on was his t-shirt and socks and for just a second Sam lost his breath because he had never seen anything quite so amazing. The sunlight filtering in provided just the right amount of shadow across the mounds of his ass. His skin was smooth and pale from so much time spent inside and undercover. It looked like milk and Sam felt like a tomcat on the prowl.

He swallowed hard and fought every urge to not climb on top of him so they could fuck again. He wanted to so bad. He wanted to fuck him and then get fucked just as hard as he had given it last night. He didn’t want to bleed, but if he did he wouldn’t give a damn. Dean had his cock pressed against his stomach and all Sam could really see was the heavy sack of his balls sitting comfortable right against the come stain on the comforter. He wanted to kiss them and roll them in his mouth, but all he did was touch that velvet smooth skin and smile when Dean laughed.

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“I won’t,” Sam laughed. “Pull your leg up a little.”

As he pulled his leg up Sam moved over to flip on the lamp to get some more light in the room. He was expecting the worst, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it would be. He had imagined something blistered, raw, and bright red, but Dean was just as pink and puckered as the first time he saw him. Around the edges of his hole were tiny dark flecks stuck to the hair and a few random pink smears.

“Did you go to the bathroom this morning?”

“No, why?”

“There’s some dried blood, it might sting a little, okay?”

“I’m okay, Sammy.” Dean said into the pillow. “You can touch it.”

Sam wanted to do so much more than touch it. He wanted to taste him, dried blood and all. He wanted to get inside again, but properly like he should have instead of letting Dean talk him into using force.

He touched it once with his thumb, with the slightest pressure he could manage before he pulled his hand away. Being that close, feeling it press against his fingertip was dangerous, so he moved away and dabbed at it gently with the wet towel.

Dean winced at first and then sighed happily still into the pillow. It must have been such a relief to feel the cool water that softened and soaked up the hard flecks of dried blood. The tip of the towel was pink, just like it had been after Sam bled that night.

“Am I gonna make it Sammy?”

“Yeah.” Sam smiled. “You are. We’ll keep it really clean for the next few days, maybe shower more often so it doesn’t get infected.”

“I’m sorry I made you do that.”

“It’s okay.”

“Did it hurt you?” Dean asked.

Sam shook his head and he pulled Dean’s pajama pants up his legs. It didn’t hurt, it was just uncomfortable and he didn’t want to do it again. He could have said that, but he didn’t want to accidentally make things worse for Dean. After his pants were up Sam laid down next to him and started to wrap his arms around him when Dean stopped and rolled over.

“Let me do it. I’m still real strong.”

“I know.” Sam smiled. “I’ve always known that.”

“You know when I wake up dad will be here.”

“I know, then he’ll go to the grocery for you.”

“If I sleep it’ll come sooner,” Dean whispered. “Everything will come sooner.”

“Then let’s sleep.”

Dean moved his arm’s around Sam and pulled him back into his chest. Sex was great, but given the choice Sam just wanted to be held sometimes, the fact that Dean was doing it again made it all the better.

“I love you, little brother.”

“I love you, big brother,” Sam whispered back. “More now than I have in my whole life.”

“That’s the silver lining.”

Dean fell asleep after that and Sam stayed awake because it would make time pass slower and he could pretend he was spending days in his arms instead of just hours.

When the rain came Sam stayed in bed for a few minutes listening to the trickle outside his window, their window. Dean had held on to him for about an hour before he rolled to the left and curled into one tight little ball. He was hugging himself now like he had found a superior replacement, one that would never go away.

As soon as he was out of bed and peering past the space between the curtain and wall, he could see the rain come down even harder. It had an audience of one and decided to put on a show for Sam. It was pounding, drumming out some aching rhythm everyone could dance to.

Sam loved the rain because along with the howl of wind, boom of thunder, and crack of lightening it was apart of nature’s oldest symphony. It had always been there even before anyone or anything was around to appreciate it. Those four forces would all whip together and serenade the world to sleep.

While he watched the rain Sam wondered what it was like when the earth had first cooled. He thought about how clean the rain would taste. It wouldn’t tasted acrid or polluted because that was a time before man-made toxins and shit covered the earth. It would taste clean, like Dean’s skin had.

It was gray that morning and Sam was sure the sun was up when he woke up alone the first time. The storm had come on fast with dark gray clouds, loud thunder and bright white streaks of lightning. It was an omen if Sam ever saw one, because he knew John was in the middle of the storm and probably navigating his way through town looking once more for the blue building on Sycamore.

When the thunder cracked it’s loudest Sam quickly looked back at Dean. He looked so young due in part to the weight he had lost. Then there was his brand new child like innocence. He was sleeping like a child might all curled up on himself desperate for something to hold on to. He was even shaking a little so Sam covered him up with his side of the bedspread and pressed his lips gently against his forehead. He was salty due to the thin sheen of sweat that always gathered when he was scared.

Whatever dreams he was having must have been scaring him, but the shaking and the sweating seemed to stop on instinct when Sam kissed him. He would have crawled back in bed to be the person Dean could hold on to but he had other things to deal with.

He left the bedroom door open as he rushed to the bathroom, so he could do it alone and then right into the kitchen. All the knives and sharp instruments were still on the table. Since Dean had recommended it Sam made a very neat and orderly list to stick on the refrigerator. He could have very easily committed it to memory, but physical proof seemed so important.

It was like all Dean’s lovely little scars. Each one was proof of a year, but Sam had no idea what the significance was or what had happened in a year. It could have been a year before, a year spent in the hospital or the most likely scenario of a year Dean never had to deal with. That was twelve months, fifty-two weeks and three hundred and sixty-five self inflicted little pink scars.

It made so much sense why Dean cut himself up the second time and then never did again after that. He was interrupted the first time he did or simply passed out before he finished. He got to three hundred and sixty-five the second time and hadn’t hurt himself since. Sam knew that even in his current state he still would have been able to find something that would work, but he hadn’t.

In the books Sam read he found stories about people in similar situations, often institutionalized who could using anything at their disposal to cut. They could pick the eyelets off their shoes or clothing, if they had to they could scratch at furniture to get a big enough splinter. Metal may have cut, but all wood could do was tear away at the skin and rip it open.

Obviously Dean hadn’t considered everything else in the apartment he could use. The television stand already had a piece of loose wood on it and Sam had more than one pair of shoes, so did Dean. The shoes he had left the hospital in, those simple gray slip-ons which looked more like slippers were next to the door where Dean had taken them off. They didn’t have any eyelets or laces. They were just canvas and thin rubber.

After Sam had all the knives and instruments put away he walked over and stared at the shoes. At school he saw the people he liked to call cool kids wearing similar shoes. Of course theirs were expensive often times with bright graphic designs across the toe. He had once found a pair of plaid slip-on shoes he came very close to buying, but at twelve dollars they seemed a little frivolous so he spent his money on a cheap fatty steak instead.

The shoes Dean had worn for three years were nothing like his favorite pair of boots. He had been wearing them since long before Sam left for school, and like the car he took care of them. John had given them to him on one of the few birthdays he had been around for. After that, Dean wore them everyday and cleaned them up each night before he went to bed. He had changed the laces a dozen times because they always wore out, but his boots still looked brand new.

When they left the hospital a nurse handed Sam a bag filled with the things Dean had arrived with three years earlier. His clothes and those boots were inside along with his wallet containing fake IDs and credit cards. It was a wonder the administration didn’t call the cops on him since clearly something was wrong with him besides his emotional state.

Sam leaned down and picked up the canvas and rubber shoes and brought them up to his nose so he could inhale deeply. He had no fetish towards feet or funk, so he didn’t know why he was doing it. It just seemed like something that had to be done, like making a list and checking it twice.

That thought made Sam chuckle and he inhaled a little deeper and tried to find any trace of his brother inside those shoes. They just smelled like bleach, clean but sterile, like the hospital, like a swimming pool.

He went for the boots next which were still in their bag next to the sofa. He pulled back the tongue and stuck his entire nose inside and felt his cock twitch when the smell registered. It still wasn’t unpleasant because everything about Dean smelled amazing. It was salty like the ocean which seemed much better than a swimming pool any day.

Sam closed his eyes and inhaled in deeper while the leather rubbed up against his bottom lip. He knew exactly what he was doing and while he could have pretended he had developed a new fetish out of nowhere that wasn’t exactly the case. The canvas and rubber shoes were the new Dean and those boots were who he was before whatever happened to him.

Dean could have easily woken up and caught him, but Sam didn’t really care. He sat down on the sofa with the boot in his left hand and took his cock in his right. After he had moved into the apartment he fell into a regular schedule of beating himself off after he said his prayers each night. He would never consider masturbating and then praying because that just seemed wrong.

He’d ask God to bless everyone, especially Dean and then take his cock out and put himself to sleep. He always came on his stomach then pulled down his shirt and rolled over. If he got up to piss in the middle of the night which he sometimes did, it was always stuck and he loved the feel of it peeling away from his skin.

On the sofa he licked his palm and started something he had done a thousand times, maybe even more. He had never bothered to count or come up with new material because Dean lived behind his eyes and now he was sleeping next a room away still curled into a ball.

It was always the same thing, Sam never bothered to cast the two of them in any new, exciting scenarios. After they slept together every orgasm he had was because of that night. When he was younger before they slept together he did switch it up fairly often. Sometimes Dean was fucking him while he held on to his shoulders and pulled him backwards onto his cock.

Sam liked to envision himself on top, sliding up and down the length of his dick. If he didn’t have a lot of time he’d just imagine Dean looming over him while he was on his knees. He’d be jerking off and moaning and Sam would be waiting with his tongue stuck out. It was like the rain still falling outside.

With all those old fantasies, the reality of their first night together, and the smell of leather and sweat wafting from the boot, Sam came fast onto his exposed stomach. His cock still hurt a little from last night, like a brush burn from trying to get inside without the aid of lube. If they were going to have sex again they’d have to buy some or find an alternative. He couldn’t very well put that on the grocery list for John. If he had to he could always order it online.

He could wait for it to come, because even if Dean tried, he wasn’t going to fuck him for a few days. He needed some time to heal, and Dean didn’t seem like he was interested in getting off at all, so Sam getting fucked and needing lube didn’t seem to be a problem.

He was rubbing his still warm load into the hills and valleys of his stomach when he heard the faintest knock on the door. It was light, like a child might make so they wouldn’t disturb anyone.

Sam stayed motionless on the sofa with his still hard cock sticking out of his pants. They was one pearl of come resting against the slit that he caught on his fingertips and brought to his mouth. He knew it was John outside and he wanted to make him wait in the rain. The doorway was covered, so he wouldn’t be getting wet, but he still deserved to wait.

The second knock was a little louder and he didn’t want the third to wake Dean up. He kept his cock out until the door was unlocked and he was about to pull it open. He flipped back the waistband of his pajama pants and soon as the seal around the weather-stripping was broken and there stood the father he hadn’t seen since he was a teenager.

When Sam had left for school he was skinny and lanky, but his dorm had a gym and it was something he could do to pass the time. He kept it up at home once he moved and had filled out nicely. He was different, but John looked exactly the same.

He was still scruffy which Sam found attractive on Dean, but messy and slovenly on John. His jacket was probably the exact same one Sam had seen him in years ago. He was a little grayer around his temples and in his facial hair, but aside from that John hadn’t changed at all.

He was holding on to a bright pink box of doughnuts that stood out like a sore thumb against the grab muddled colors of his clothing. The jacket was plain cotton, that had once been a brighter blue, but faded from wear. It looked black against his shoulder where the rain had saturated the threads of fabric.

Sam had always thought about what he would say when he saw him again. He might just hug him and apologize or say “Fuck you.” and spit. He had rehearsed a thousand different greetings and settled on backing up out of the doorway and holding his hand out to usher him in.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

“I brought some doughnuts.”

“Thanks.” Sam paused. “Dad.”

“You look good, Sammy.”

“Thanks, you too.”

John smiled weakly and walked in still holding on to the box. They had already eaten, but Dean would eat again, especially after a nap. He was going to be so excited that John was there, but Sam wanted to let him sleep for a little while longer. He was safe in the bedroom away from the conversation they had to have about everything.

They’d have to talk about the things that happened between the two of them, but that could wait. Dean was their priority and they’d have to exchange information and piece together the puzzle.

“Where is he?”

“Sleeping.”

“Is he okay?” John asked. “How bad is it?”

“He has his moments,” Sam whispered as John peered into the bedroom. “He’s a lot better here than he was at the hospital.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he doesn’t seem as scared. He was terrified when I went to visit him. I go every Saturday.”

“And he hasn’t said why he checked himself in?”

“No. Before he wakes up I need you to promise me you won’t raise your voice to him. Be as mad as you want, but this is my home and I won’t have you upsetting him.”

“Well aren’t you a big man.”

“Someone has to be,” Sam said flatly. “He said you yelled at him. He said you pushed him and he hurt his arm.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“No.”

John sighed and asked if he could sit down. Sam could tell he was tired, but he always was. That was the life he lived where he just kept going even if he was exhausted. It was the same life Sam had been living since he got that package from Dean asking for a favor.

He sat on one edge of the sofa and Sam sat on the other which as much space between them as it would allow. John sighed once more and started to tell the story about what had happened the last time he saw Dean before he left. They were in Texas working a case John couldn’t even remember. It was just something that popped up and he chose to investigate it.

Sam had been gone for a week and he could see Dean slipping a little further with each passing day. He barely talked unless he was being directly addressed. Usually when they had a room at the end of the day Dean would kick back and watch television, but after Sam left he stayed quiet while John went over his notes or cleaned up their guns. Dean wasn’t even cleaning his gun anymore which was John’s first indication that he was missing his brother.

He actually said that and Sam felt nauseous because the story he was telling seemed like it was going to end with Dean going crazy because of him. As John kept talking in a quiet whisper he seemed to be letting himself get upset as he listed the signs he tried to ignore. Dean had stopped eating much and only showered when John ordered him to because he was stinking up the joint.

In Texas, after two weeks alone, John finally sat him down and they talked like a father and son should have. Dean cried the entire time while John told him that he missed him too and it would never be the same, but they had a job to do.

“And I did Sam,” John sighed. “I still do and I’m sitting right next to you.”

“I do too.”

John smiled at him weakly and then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. After he pressed a few buttons he handed it over and Sam brought it to his ear. All his saved messages were in order, every one Sam had left. They started the very day he arrived at school. He had called just to let him know he got there okay. Then he called for Thanksgiving, Christmas, all the holidays and John’s birthday for that first year. The messages were frequent, wishing him well and then updating him on Dean.

Then he only called three times a year on Christmas, his birthday, and father’s day. Sam listened to a lot of them from his first few months alone, trying to remember how he had done anything when he was still such a little boy. That’s how he sounded at least, quiet and unsure. He even sounded small.

Happy Birthday dad. I had a cupcake with Dean for you. Merry Christmas dad. I gave Dean some new socks from you. He’s not better, but he’s not worse. Happy birthday, Merry Christmas. John had saved them all.

“I tried to answer. I knew if I did I’d tell you I could use some help, maybe just for a weekend, so I didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have helped.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you just hug him when he needed it?” Sam asked. “He just wanted someone to care.”

“I did hug him,” John said quietly. “He hugged me and then he…”

“What?”

It was gray out, but the dim living room had enough light to showcase the wetness in John’s eyes. Sam had never really seen it before unless he was hurt, in physical pain which he currently wasn’t. It was something else, like the memory of whatever happened was just as hard on him.

“I was just going to hold him, you know?” John asked. “For as long as he wanted. I could see how much he was hurting. If I had to I would have held on all night, it’s what you would have done.”

“Yeah.”

“We were between the two beds and, I don’t really…” John sighed. “I don’t know what happened, but he held on tighter and then I felt him pressing into me. I felt it pressing into me.”

“He had an erection?”

“Yeah.”

“So you pushed him?” Sam asked. “And yelled at him?”

“No.” John shook his head.

Sam prayed that John’s story wasn’t going to end the way he thought it was. He knew Dean was dealing with a lot after he left and John was the only person around. He knew all his hopes were in vain because he could see the look on John’s face. It should have been disgust or horror, but he just looked sad, broken, like Dean was.

“He tried to…”

“Will you just say it?” Sam whispered. “It’s just us dad. No one has to know.”

“I didn’t mean to push him, Sam. I’d never hurt either of you.”

“I know that.”

“He tried to, well, he did kiss me and I didn’t know what he was doing. I thought he was just really upset, but I backed away. I just backed up some, because I didn’t want to make it worse. Then he tired again and I held him back.”

“Okay.”

“Jesus,” John said shaking his head. “He was trying to get my belt off when I pushed him the first time. Sam, he was crazy, he didn’t have anything behind his eyes. He tried again and he kept telling me I wouldn’t have to do anything back. He said he needed it and if I just fucked him he could get better.”

Sam had heard the same thing last night and it seemed to help Dean because he had gotten up and at least attempted to feed himself. That was really the only thought in Sam’s head. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for John to have to hear that coming out of Dean’s mouth and seeing that emptiness in his eyes. It wasn’t the emptiness though, Sam knew it was the darkness.

John had stayed mostly composed during the story, but after he spit out the reason for his final push he did start to cry and Sam inched over to be closer to him. He wasn’t going to hug or comfort him, he just wanted him to know that he was there.

“He was tugging at my belt and I pushed him. He hit the nightstand, his shoulder hit the corner. I didn’t mean to yell as loud or as long as I did. He told me I never let him be a child and then he left.”

“It’s okay, dad.”

“No it’s not. It’s not okay Sam. If he spent the past three years in that hospital because of me…”

“He didn’t. Whatever happened was after that.”

“If I had just…” John paused. “Maybe he wouldn’t have left and whatever happened could have been avoided.”

“Dad, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either. Sammy, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I guess we shouldn’t have said a lot of stuff.”

“Yeah,” John said. “How am I going to face him?”

“Remember the tacos?”

“The fucking tacos,” John laughed.

When Dean brought them home he was singing to himself he was so happy. He had him some tacos, enough for his whole family. They didn’t have enough bathrooms for the three of them, but if they timed it right they could take shifts being sick all night long.

“Think about him before I left. He didn’t mean to say that stuff to you.”

“Is he going to say it to me again?” John asked. “I mean, I can’t do that Sam. It won’t help him.”

“He won’t say anything about it. I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Come on.”

Sam grabbed at his hand for just a second before he stood. John stood up too and without hesitation he hugged Sam. He felt a lot like Dean, strong and almost painful it was so tight. He didn’t hold on long though because he was still dealing with the last time he hugged one of his sons.

“You need to be patient with him,” Sam said after they broke apart. “Don’t say anything about how he acts.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay.”

John followed him into the bedroom where Sam sat down on the edge of the bed and laid his hand against Dean’s shoulder. It wasn’t cold in the apartment, but he was shivering probably as a side effect of the withdrawals.

“Dean?”

“Are you there, Sammy?”

“I’m here.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” Sam whispered. “I promise. Open your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Dad came to see you.”

The smile spread first before he opened his eyes and sat up quickly. Sam hadn’t seen him that happy in years. He had to have known that if John showed up he wasn’t mad at him and he probably wouldn’t yell.

“Hey.”

“Hi dad!”

“You sleeping late?” John asked.

“Well I got up real whirly to make eggs.”

“What?”

“Early,” Dean said correcting himself. “Sammy showed me how.”

“Good.” John nodded. “I brought some doughnuts, if you wanted to eat again.”

“Can I, Sammy?”

“Of course.” Sam smiled. “I’m actually a little hungry too.”

Dean nodded as hard as he could before he moved to the edge of the bed on his knees to where John was standing. He looked a little nervous, but managed to smile back at Dean because he was remembering the tacos and nothing that happened afterwards.

“Dad, can you go to the grocery for us after breakfast?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“And you’ll stay for hotdogs?”

“I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

“Really?” Dean asked. “You mean it?”

“As long as you both need me.”

Sam had been cautious since he brought Dean back from the hospital, but John clearly wasn’t interested in that. While Dean was still on his knees he hugged him and held on as tight as he could. It made Dean laugh, but that was only because Sam was the only person who saw John crying.

During Dean’s second breakfast that morning, Sam got his few minutes of quiet solitude in which to reflect. His mind had been racing since Dean came home with him and now he could sit and talk to John like they were two old friends who happened to stumble into the same blue building on Sycamore and Sam could relish the luxury of quiet.

He didn’t have to talk and he didn’t really even have to listen. All that was expected of him was to sit next to Dean with his fingertips resting against his knee. As soon as they sat down Dean had placed them there and Sam felt the random small shake or nervous bounce as he talked to John.

He was excited or scared, maybe a combination of the two and his current brain was unable to decide which won out, so he dealt with both at the same time. Sam stayed quiet and half listened to the conversation. It wasn’t anything he actually needed to hear because Dean wasn’t talking about why he checked in or what had happened while he was there.

John wasn’t talking about hunting or anything other than baseball. Dean had brought it up right after he asked if Sam could add a few boxes of cracker jacks to the list. He hadn’t actually said cracker jacks, he wanted kwaker jaks like a child learning of them for the first time.

Sam and John ignored the mispronunciation and everyone that followed. He wasn’t quite sure when baseball season started and John thought it might be in March. The San Francisco Giants were the closest team and he thought the three of them going to a game would be a great idea if it was what Dean wanted. March was a long way off, but it still gave Dean something to look fahwahd to. He was looking fahwahd to going to a game if he was better by March.

They talked about baseball for a while and Sam realized it was just as boring as everyone said it was. He was still half listening and enjoying not talking when Dean finally said something that forced his ears to perk up and pay attention.

“Didja get ‘em?”

“Yeah,” John answered. “I got him.”

He wasn’t just saying it because Dean wanted to hear it, Sam could tell by his small shift in attitude that John was telling the truth. Whoever he was, John had got him, which Sam knew meant he had taken care of someone or something.

“Are ya mad?” Dean asked. “Cuz’a what I did?”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m real sorry, dad.”

“So am I, Dean.” John nodded. “I am too.”

“Sammy says this is our apartment now. Isn’t that cool that we have an apartment?”

“Yeah.” John smiled. “And it’s nice too. How much are you paying Sam?”

“Six fifty.”

“He works at a library, but he came to see me every Saturday. I knew from the time he left that I’d only need six sleeps until he came to see me again.”

“I came to see you a few times. Did you know that?”

John hadn’t mentioned it, and Dean had asked why John wasn’t coming to see him. Apparently he had, but kept his distance which was understandable after what happened between them. It made Sam a little angry because if he had actually spent time next to him, Dean might have snapped out of it a little earlier. He decided to ignore that though because he understood why he didn’t.

“You did?”

“Once a month. Always in the garden.”

“It’s nice out there. Do you think you can buy us a plant for our apartment when you go to the store?”

“Yeah, I’ll see what does good inside. We could all go, if you wanted…”

“No,” Dean said quickly. “I have to stay here with Sammy for a little bit longer.”

Just as quickly he dropped his seeping jelly doughnut and grabbed Sam’s hand under the table. He wasn’t nervous anymore, he was back to being scared. John saw it since Dean wasn’t very subtle, but Sam didn’t care. If he thought it was anything besides Dean needing comfort he was sorely mistaken.

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Dean whispered.

“Hey,” John said from across the table. “You don’t have to. You can stay here with Sammy. When you want to go out we’ll go with you.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, dad, I made the list and left some money on the counter.”

“I’ll get it, keep your money.”

“Okay.”

“I have to pee,” Dean said squeezing Sam’s hand. “I drank too much orange juice, but later we’ll have chocolate milk. Did you remember to put it on the list?”

“I did.” Sam smiled. “Come on.”

Sam stood up first, but he let Dean lead the way still holding his hand while John watched them. Sam thought it was so funny that John had thought he could take care of Dean on his own. There was no way he was going to be comfortable enough with standing next to him while he pissed.

As if he had to see it for himself John got up from the table and stood a few feet away from the door. Sam was leaning against the sink like he always did. He didn’t close the door even if John was there.

“Sometimes I have trouble.”

“Take your time.”

Sam had noticed it the first time Dean pissed in front of him. He seemed to have a little trouble getting started, but once he did it was fine. Sam had offered to close his eyes if he had a shy bladder, but Dean said that wasn’t the problem, he just had trouble sometimes.

“It’s hard to pee?” John asked.

“Yes,” Dean said still trying.

“How long has that been going on?”

“Dad,” Sam said. “Just give him a second.”

“Okay.”

John asking questions was only going to make it harder on Dean. He was just trying to help, but Sam was the only person that could do that. He moved from where he was leaning until he was standing behind Dean.

“Just relax.” Sam said wrapping his arms around his stomach. “Don’t worry about anything else.”

“He’s mad at me,” Dean whispered.

“No he isn’t. He told me.”

“What if he lied?”

“He doesn’t do that. He wouldn’t want to take you to a ballgame if he was mad.”

“Oh.”

Dean laughed a little as he started to piss. It must have caught him off guard because he missed the bowl entirely, but quickly regained his aim.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay, we can clean it up.”

“Oh God,” Dean sighed. “I really had to piss.”

“I can see that,” Sam laughed.

He was pissing hard too and it lasted for quite a while longer than Sam expected. After he was done he washed his hands, wet a towel and wiped the side of the toilet and the floor where he had pissed. He even rinsed the rag out and then threw it in the hamper near the door where Sam put all his dirty laundry.

As soon as he was done he took Sam’s hand again and together they walked to the living room where John was sitting and staring at the wall.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. Did you want me to stay here or should I get a room at that motel down the street?”

“Stay, please. I sleep with Sam in the bed.”

“Okay.” John smiled. “That motel is really nice.”

“How do you know?” Sam asked.

“I always stay there when I came to check on you two.”

Apparently after he saw Sam assisting Dean while he pissed he didn’t feel the need to question why they were sleeping in the same bed. If he had Sam would have been very tempted to tell him why, but he couldn’t because they had scars as their secret and no one would have to know.

Dean finally let go of Sam’s hand so he could sit down on the sofa. He was on the opposite edge from John, but as soon as he sat he started to inch over. He moved a little quicker after John smiled. Dean was trying to be cautious, but he didn’t need to be. John seemed to completely understand that whatever he had done or tried to do was because of his grief. He didn’t understand the darkness yet because it hadn’t come up when they talked.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, I promise. I wouldn’t be here if I was mad at you,” John said. “At either of you.”

“Sammy had to go to school.”

“I know that. Remember what I told you?”

“Yeah. You was more proud of him then ever before.” Dean nodded. “You were, I mean.”

“You were?” Sam asked.

“Proud in a pissed off kind of way.” John laughed.

“Do you think I’m retarded? That man told me that all the time, whenever I saw him.”

Sam hated that word so much. Every time Dean said it he felt like shaking him and demanding he never say it to describe himself again. He wasn’t retarded or crazy, he was just having a hard time. Sam kept telling himself that because he couldn’t think of any other way to describe it.

“I don’t think a retarded person would question whether or not they were.” John laughed. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Okay.”

“And I know you don’t want to leave yet, but if you’re having problems going to the bathroom you need to go to the doctor. I’m promising you that if we leave this apartment, the three of us together nothing is going to happen to you.”

“I just worry a lot. I get real worried.”

“About what?”

Once again Sam was staying quiet because it seemed like John would do a better job at getting at the root of the problem. Whenever Sam got close, Dean would change the subject and he would let him, but that wasn’t going to happen with John. He was able to ask questions without Dean realizing that he was digging.

“Everything.”

“Tell me one thing.”

“I’m worried you’re mad at me because of what I did.”

“I was. I was furious, but you know what? When I went to look for you I was more concerned.”

“You looked for me?”

“Of course I did,” John said. “Like five minutes after you left I was looking. You just needed to talk, right?”

“No. We talked enough. I told you what I needed.”

“You, uh.” John paused and sighed. “You think if we had done that, you would have been okay?”

“I know I would have.”

Sam was tempted to interrupt their conversation because he was like John and didn’t want to hear Dean say it again. He knew why he wanted to fuck; it was his own way of moving on because John had taken away his option of being with the person he wanted . There was no way he would have allowed Dean to move across the country so they could be together. Dean simply moved on to the only other person he had ever loved beside Sam.

“Do you still want to do that?”

“No.”

“I’m not going to be upset if you do,” John told him.

“I said no, dad.”

“Can you tell me why you wanted to?”

Dean laughed a little and Sam’s heart broke because he knew exactly what he was going to say. John probably even knew as well, he just needed confirmation.

“You’re all I had,” Dean said quietly. “No one else loves me. Sammy had to go to school, I know that.”

“And you think because he left that he didn’t love you?”

“You don’t know.”

“Then tell me. Let us both help you.”

“Dad,” Sam said finally after he couldn’t take it anymore. “It’s complicated.”

“I know, but I can’t sit here and try to understand and help you if I don’t know why you needed me to…”

“I didn’t need you,” Dean said standing. “I needed anyone. For one night I felt real good about myself. I felt what it was like and I wanted that back. One night I slept real good and I was happy the entire time I had dreams. You could have done that for me again and you pushed me instead.”

“I told you I was sorry. I would never hurt you, you know that.”

“You wanted me to hurt Sam. You told me in the hospital before you…”

Sam stood up and tried to brace himself or at least try to constrain him, but it was too late. That rage was back, he could see it in his eyes before he saw the darkness take over and consume him.

He swatted hard at the lamp and sent it flying against the wall. There was a loud crack of electricity as the bulb shattered and sparked a little. He went for the television next and nearly had it tipped over before Sam grabbed it and pushed it back onto the stand.

For a second he waited to get hit again, but Dean had made a promise and like he had done before he went for John instead. All that rage paired with the adrenaline made him punch so hard Sam thought he was seeing things. It all happened so fast Sam couldn’t stop it, even if he somehow managed to move at double speed Dean was still faster.

John stood up and as the punch connected with his jaw he went flying backwards knocking the sofa over in the process. He even hit the wall and gasped before he fell to the ground with bright red blood gushing from his mouth and dust fluttering down from the ceiling.

“Dean,” Sam said as he grabbed him. “Come on, calm down.”

“Get off me!”

“No. You need to calm down. He’s here to help. He didn’t do anything.”

“He told me to hurt you!”

“No I didn’t,” John said pushing himself off the ground. “Let him go Sam.”

“No.”

“Let him go!” John ordered. “You need to hit me, then you hit me.”

Sam did as he was told and so did Dean. He practically flew over the upended sofa and pounded his fist into John’s face until he was just a bleeding weeping mass of bruised skin and loose teeth. Sam was crying from across the room because he knew it wasn’t helping, it was only making things worse. John would have to leave eventually and no matter how strong Sam was he couldn’t take a beating like he could.

“You left us!” Dean screamed. “I didn’t know what to do! You would have stopped me! I wouldn’t have lost him if you hadn’t left! I wouldn’t have been alone!”

“I never left you,” John said as he choked on the blood. “I’ve never left you.”

Dean finally gave up and they both slumped to the floor. Dean was right next to a broken shard of the lamp base and went for it right away. He had it just pressed into his forearm when Sam squatted down next to him.

“You promised me.”

“I was alone.”

“You never will be again,” Sam said taking it away from him. “I promise you. You can’t do this, please, for me, don’t do this.”

“I hit him real hard,” Dean cried.

“It’s okay.”

John had to crawl across the floor, but he made it over and grabbed Dean once again to hug him. Sam let Dean cry and John bleed for ten minutes before he took both of them in his arms and they stayed locked together as the rain pounded outside and the lightning flashed. He could feel the rage fading as the minutes passed until it was all gone.

“Listen to me,” John whispered. “Whatever you think happened, didn’t.”

“Almost.”

“Almost doesn’t count.” John said holding Dean’s face in his hands. “It doesn’t count. I never left you. Sam was across the country and you were still never alone. Okay? Neither of us have ever stopped loving you.”

“I hit you.”

“I liked it,” John laughed. “I taught you how to throw a punch.”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed. “I ‘member.”

“I don’t remember you being so good at it.”

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“I’ve been through worse.”

Sam stood up and helped Dean up first before they both pulled John to his feet. He was fucked up, but Sam had seen him worse and he still managed to carry on with whatever he was doing.

They both cleaned him up, with Dean doing most of the work in the bathroom with another wet towel that was pink by the time they were done. Sam still had no idea what Dean thought happened, or would have happened and for the first time he didn’t want to know.

“Shit,” John said looking in the mirror.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Do you feel better?”

“Is that bad?” Dean asked.

“No, not if it helped. You want to do that again just tell me.”

“I won’t.” Dean paused. “I promise.”

They smiled at each other while Sam watched John’s reflection in the mirror. He could take a beating, that was easy, but Sam could see he really wasn’t strong enough to deal with Dean.

Despite their strained relationship Sam was always impressed with John’s ability to function. He had just taken a beating, but managed to get cleaned up and then grab the grocery list and walk out the door as if it hadn’t happened. Before he left he promised Dean that he was going to come back.

They could both see how nervous he was to have John walking out of the apartment, but he seemed to calm down after he had a little reassurance. He wasn’t going to be gone long, probably an hour or less. He needed to get everything on the list, a space appropriate plant and then stop and get some stuff for himself.

Since he was going to be sticking around for a while he wanted to buy a pillow and at least a blanket to sleep with on the sofa. Dean had offered his own pillow, but John told him that was okay. It wouldn’t take him any longer to make two stops and if he had to run through the store he would.

After he walked out the door Dean stayed at the window watching him make his way down the stairs. They could both see his truck parked across the street and he made sure to wave before he got inside and drove off down the street.

“He’s gone.”

“He’ll be back.”

Sam was sweeping up the shattered lamp which Dean had apologized for a hundred times. It was just a cheap lamp the landlord had brought him, something that was probably very stylish before either of them were born. Sam didn’t care about it, but he did care that Dean had come very close to slicing himself up again.

“I know,” Dean said to the window. “I’ll buy you another one.”

“That lamp was so ugly I thought about knocking it over a hundred times.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Sam laughed. “Come sit by me.”

Dean stayed at the window for a few more seconds while Sam dumped the shattered remains of his favorite ugly lamp into the garbage can. It was like Dean had to make sure that John wouldn’t accidentally come back because he forgot something. He wanted to be there just in case so he could greet him as soon as he walked in the door.

He told Sam once that it was his job when Mary was still alive. She’d disappear into the bedroom ten minutes before he was due home every night to straighten her pony tail and maybe freshen up her makeup. Dean wasn’t really sure at such a young age what she was doing, but she always came out looking rested and smelling like roses.

It was her perfume that she always dabbed behind her ears even if her makeup didn’t need touching up or if her hair was already perfect. She let Dean try it once, one morning before they did errands. He remembered that she was pregnant at the time and that was how he liked her best because he knew that his brother was inside her belly and once he was born they could both wait for daddy to come home.

The day he tried on her perfume, just a drop on his right earlobe, she gave him a bath early because John wouldn’t approve of him smelling like roses. He either had to smell like a little boy or like soap. Dean had said he loved her so much, but it wasn’t her job to give him a bath. John always did that at the end of the day after coming home from the garage.

Dean was always waiting in the living room when he came home and wouldn’t take off running until John set down the big black plastic box he kept his sandwich and sometimes soup in. He’d scoop him up and ask all about his day before he kissed Mary, her stomach, which was essentially his kiss for Sam, and finally Dean, right in the middle of his forehead.

They’d have dinner and then watch the evening cartoons that came on Nickelodeon before John gave him his bath. Those baths were their special time together that had shaped Dean into the man he would eventually become. He would fill up the tub, help Dean out of his clothes and then plop him inside. Sometimes he got bubbles, but usually it was just nice warm water which would get all cloudy and slippery from the soap.

While he bathed him, John started the stories about big old cars with big old problems. He had once told Dean, who in turn told Sam, about a big son of a bitch Ford that was more trouble than it was worth. John had been working on the damn thing for almost two weeks and had practically rebuilt it from the inside out. Dean, of course, wanted to know why anyone would go through so much trouble and John had very simply told him that after a woman, a car was the only other thing a man could ever really love.

Since it was their alone time and Mary was busy on the phone with an older relative who couldn’t hear for shit, as John had said, he could tell him a secret and keep it between the two of them. At least they could keep it a secret until that baby came out of her tummy because then Dean didn’t think he could keep any secrets from him.

John told him that he was different, because he loved his wife, then his sons both born and waiting to be born, then their family as a whole and finally his car, which would one day be his if he was a good older brother. At just barely three years old Dean made the first of what would be many promises he always kept. He promised John that he would not only be a good brother, but he would be the best, and he could never love any car, no matter how good it was more than he already loved the brother in his mommy’s tummy.

Dean had told him the entire story before they slept together although Sam couldn’t remember exactly when it was. It was just more foreplay that had been going on for years.

Sam was already on the sofa when Dean sat down behind him as close as he could manage. He smelled like sweat with the faint sugary traces of processed raspberry jam from all the doughnuts he had consumed after his second breakfast.

“Did you remember the Ramen?”

“Yep.”

“They’re pretty gross if you think about it, but still real good.”

Dean had said 'real' so many times, even when 'really' would have been a better word. It was like some new habit he picked up from the hospital and couldn’t be without now that he was gone.

“They’re pretty good. Good when it’s cold.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “You don’t think dad hates me, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“Even after I said stuff and hit him?”

“I’m sure of it Dean. Don’t worry about me or dad. We both love you and nothing could change that.”

“Sammy, after you left for school, did you think about me before you came to the hospital?”

“Wanna know another secret?”

“Okay.” Dean nodded.

“I can’t remember ever not thinking about you, all the time. When I did laundry or homework. Even before I left for school we could be talking like we are right now and I’m always thinking about you.”

“I wasn’t there because’a you.”

Sam scanned his face quickly for any hint that he was saying it because it was what he so desperately wanted to hear. It was really the first time he had brought it up when they were talking about something else and he could have taken that opportunity to dig a little deeper, but he had made up his mind. It didn’t matter why Dean went, all that mattered was that he was back.

“Or dad,” Dean sighed. “I was there because that’s where I needed to be. I needed time to be alone where I could be quiet.”

Dean was speaking so slowly, it was like someone had set his speech to half speed, but it was working because he sounded more coherent than Sam ever heard even before the hospital. He didn’t want to hear the reason, but if Dean needed to tell him he would listen.

“I am not mad about the things he made us do. I’m mad because he didn’t give us the option to not do them. I am so proud of you because you wouldn’t take no for an answer. He told you no and you left anyway. I’ll tell you everyday for the rest of our lives, but you’ll never believe how much I wanted to go with you.”

“I do believe you.”

“You can’t.” Dean smiled. “You can’t Sammy because you always did whatever you wanted to do. I never could even if I wanted to more than anything. I didn’t want to be there, but I had to make sure you were safe.”

“And I was safe alone?” Sam asked. “Without you?”

“Yes.”

“Am I still safe now?”

“We all are now. Before you left I couldn’t keep us together, but I can now. I make a choice to hold your hand or stand next to you when I try to piss. I want to do that because I want to, not because I need to.”

“You sound really good right now,” Sam said. “I’ll hold you hand whether you want to or need to.”

“I still get nervous around dad.”

Sam held out his hand and Dean took it right away. Being nervous around John was completely understandable. Sam felt that way sometimes too and he had never said the things Dean did or beat the shit out of him even if he wanted to. Hopefully he could stick around for a week and they could all work together to get comfortable with each other for the first time in their lives. With a little time together Sam thought they might even be able to figure out how to become a family.

“Why don’t you tell me all the reasons why you’re nervous and we can talk about it.”

“Well I said that stuff to him. I tried Sammy.”

“And he understands as well as he can why you said it.”

Sam was a little nervous himself about how much John may have understood. He was extremely smart and had probably been able to figure out why Dean was so upset once he left for school. He had pretty much said they were together without actually saying it. Either John didn’t care, which seemed very unlikely, or he chose to focus on the bigger problem.

“Why wouldn’t he do it?”

“You’re his son.”

“You’re my brother and you did it.”

“It’s different, you know that, right?” Sam asked. “He has to have you as his son because you and me are the most important things to him. We’re not just brothers anymore and if he had slept with you then you wouldn’t have just been his son.”

“I just thought,” Dean said wiping his nose. “I thought that if we did then we could do it again. He might be happy if I could love him like that.”

“Is that what this is about? You don’t think he’s happy?”

“I think he could be happier.”

“Everyone can be happier, Dean.”

“I can’t,” Dean whispered. “I have you Sammy. I couldn’t be happier. Dad’s getting us groceries and a plant. It wasn’t just about him, it was me doing something for me for once.”

“Okay. So you think that if you had slept with dad, you two could have kept doing that and been happy?”

“Yes.”

“What about me?” Sam asked. “You always had me, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded.

“Would you be happier with me or with dad?”

“Don’t be stupid Sammy.” Dean laughed. “That’s stupid.”

“See.” Sam smiled. “Don’t worry about this Dean. He understands. Were you telling the truth when he asked if you still wanted to?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, if I wasn’t here, would you still want to be with him?”

“Yes.”

Sam wasn’t expecting that, he thought for sure that he had gotten through to Dean and made him realize that what he wanted to do with John was wrong, at least his reasons why. All he wanted in his life was someone to be with that he loved and trusted. Sam and John were the only two people who could do that. He could care for someone if he tried, but he could never trust them and never love them quite as much.

“But you are here.”

“I am.”

“And you’re not going to leave me ever.”

“You can’t get rid of me. I know I can’t make you less nervous, but if dad was still angry he’d tell you, right?”

“Yeah, but sometimes he might not say stuff. Sometimes I don’t say stuff.”

“Like what?” Sam asked.

“Like I feel weird since I left the hospital,” Dean said putting his hand on his stomach. “In here.”

A big part of it was probably the lack of medication. He was on so much shit and hadn’t had any in almost twenty-four hours. Sam was blaming the medication for everything and it wasn’t because he couldn’t deal with any new problems. He knew that it was the cause of the sweating, probably even his bouts of clarity.

The entire time they talked Dean had been fine. His words were all perfectly pronounced and while he spoke slow and softly, he spoke flawlessly. He had been doing a lot worse when John was there, but he had said he was nervous and worried so that made sense. Sam had faith that in a few days, maybe a week Dean would be clearheaded again and he’d return to the person he was.

If his stomach hurt, Sam had a perfectly acceptable reason for that as well, one that Dean probably wouldn’t want to hear but he was going to tell him anyway.

“Are you nauseous?”

“A little, still like standing outside myself.”

“That’s the medication and your stomach probably hurts because whenever you’re awake you’ve been eating non-stop.”

“You said I could.”

“You can,” Sam laughed. “But your stomach is going to hurt. You weren’t eating much in the hospital, were you?”

“It was all gross. I think I’ll go to the bathroom, that might help.”

“Okay.”

“I think maybe you can stand a few feet away from the door instead of right outside of it, but I’m going to leave it open, jus’ incase.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Okay.”

Dean went through what seemed to be a very complicated series of events to determine where exactly Sam should be. He was obviously trying to figure out how much distance he could handle between them. He walked into the bathroom and then came right back out counting to himself. He walked to the left of the door into the living room and then over to the right closer to the kitchen. He even seemed to be measuring angles based solely on his stride.

“Dean,” Sam said stopping him. “I’ll sit right on the edge of the tub if you need me to, right next to you.”

“I know, but I can’t have you doing that forever, Sammy.”

“Why not? I don’t mind.”

“You won’t want to be with me if you have to sit there while I go to the bathroom. Right here is good.”

“I’ll always want to be with you.”

“Not after Mexican food.”

Sam laughed as Dean moved him over and got him at what must have been the perfect angle. Sam could see into the bathroom, but only the tank of the toilet was visible. Dean had spent so much time trying to get everything perfect that he ended up having to rush into the bathroom in one mad dash.

“Even after Mexican.”

“No way.”

“Way,” Sam laughed.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Sam’s razor was back on the bathroom counter and he started to move towards it when he saw Dean’s hand hovering. Luckily he stopped himself when he saw Dean turn on the faucet in an attempt to drown out the noise of two eggs, two pieces of toast and at least six jelly doughnuts. Unlike the first time he heard everything and was surprised that it didn’t disgust him or make him uncomfortable.

Everyone had to shit and as unglamorous as it was, Sam didn’t care. He’d listen or sit next to him if it made Dean feel better. He was willing to do anything to make him feel better and apparently listening to him on the toilet or having uncomfortable sex was going to be the worst of it.

“Oh,” Dean said as he flushed the toilet.

“Everything okay?”

“I’m bleeding.”

“A lot?”

“I see some.”

“Can I come in?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

Sam walked to the bathroom as the toilet was refilling with water. Dean had pulled his pajama pants up and was staring at the bright red drop of blood near the top of the seat. It seemed like if he had been bleeding it would have been near the back.

“When I stood.”

“Oh.”

“Now it does hurt a little.”

“A little?” Sam asked.

“Just uncomfortable. We’re running out of towels.”

Sam had used one that morning when he cleaned Dean up the first time. Dean used one to mop up the piss when his aim faltered and they had both used one on John. They were all wet and messy in the hamper, and Sam only had one left that he wet again as Dean lowered his pants and leaned against the sink without being asked.

There was some fresh blood which was just a result of him going to the bathroom. The same thing had happened to Sam the first time, but he spotted it on the toilet paper after he stood up to flush.

“Is it bad?”

“No.”

Sam dabbed at it a few times and pressed in with a little force to see if he could tell where the source was. Right near the bottom was a tiny tear that was just barely glistening crimson.

“We’re not going to be able to do anything for a while.”

“I know.”

“It’s a little tear. Can I clean it up for you?”

“How?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I think we have to keep it really clean though.”

Sam moved over on his knees so he could wet the other end of the towel in the shower and grab a bar of soap. He wanted to clean him up and then maybe get some peroxide on it, because an infection would be so much worse than a little tear and he knew Dean would never allow a doctor to check him out.

Dean stayed motionless and rigid as Sam gently soaped up his hole and then wet the rag three more time to wipe it down and get rid of the foamy lather. He cringed and winced with the peroxide, but it didn’t seem so bad.

“Don’t put a bandaid on it.”

“I won’t,” Sam laughed. “I have some Neosporin in the cabinet, can you get it for me?”

“Okay.”

When Dean handed it over Sam put a tiny dot on his index finger before he covered the tear. It looked a lot better already and he made a note to move the supplies to the bedroom so John wouldn’t question what they were going in the bathroom together with the door closed.

“Good as new.”

“Are you sure everyone bleeds?” Dean asked as he pulled his pants up. “I feel gross now.”

“A lot of guys do, especially after what we did. What do you mean gross?”

“Greasy.” Dean frowned. “I guess that’ll teach me.”

“Just for a few days.”

“Thanks Sammy.” Dean said hugging him. “You always take care of me.”

“That’s my job.”

The garbage pickup came on Monday, and since it was Sunday Sam was thinking about it while he sat on the sofa. He knew the small can in kitchen was mostly full due to the box their pizza had been in. They had barely made it through the pizza, but Sam combined the leftover dessert pizza into one box and threw the other into the garbage can.

It was another one of those things he splurged on even if it was a necessity. He wasn’t sure if a shower curtain was, but he had to have a garbage can. He needed a place to throw away his plastic bags of empty spaghetti or the Styrofoam trays his chicken breasts and occasional steaks came in.

More than once he had printed out a paper and then found a mistake when reading the hard copy. He’d have to toss that in the garbage as well, correct the file and then print it again. It was mostly kitchen waste he threw away because he had another much smaller and cheaper waste basket in the bathroom that became the home of little bits of toilet paper if he cut himself while shaving or the discarded used up q-tips.

He made the mistake of buying generic cotton swabs on one of his first trips to the store after he moved into the dorms. They bent inside his ear and he had to use more than one to complete the job a solitary brand name q-tip could have done.

In the kitchen garbage there was also the pastel pink box left over from Dean’s completely consumed strawberry jelly rolls. It had a picture of Strawberry Shortcake on the box which Sam thought was clever marketing. It was the same way cereals all had colorful cartoon mascots like Captain Crunch or the Trix rabbit, neither of which Sam was particularly fond of.

Dean had loved those cereals even as an adult. He never went to the grocery, relying instead on diner and take out menus people would leave rubber banded to the door knob. He made an exception so he could get some sugary sweet cereal with more chemical dye than actual nutritious value. Sam had even put some on the list without Dean asking him to.

Most lists would have been general guides of the purchases required, but the list John was busy with was unusually specific. Dean may have been a little off, but when it came to food he knew exactly what he wanted, what they wanted.

If they were going to have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, they had to be made with Jiff crunchy peanut butter, Smucker’s strawberry jam on white Wonderbread. During his freshman year, Sam had spotted a boy in his class wearing a Wonderbread t-shirt which he thought was weird, like he was a walking advertisement for something so incredibly random.

Dean wanted Top Ramen which Sam had never seen advertised on a shirt anywhere in his life. He wasn’t sure the brand of the Vienna sausages, but he knew the can was blue and he was sure John would remember, which he did. All his favorite food, a plant, and his father were going to be in the apartment very soon.

Until that happened they had it to themselves. Sam had taken care of Dean and his tiny tear and he wanted to repay the favor by indulging his sweet tooth. He had said that Sam had something that was much sweeter than anything strawberry shortcake could sell to him.

Sam didn’t need a blowjob, but he figured that if he let Dean suck his cock he would be less inclined to make him fuck once they went to bed. So he sat down on the sofa with his baggy pajama pants around his knees while Dean kneeled before him like he was about to seek absolution or do his best to completely pervert the very meaning of the word.

He was flaccid until he felt just the push of breath coming through Dean’s lips. It wasn’t even real contact just the air barely shifting across the thick head of his cock. It might have been moving around and not across like the waves breaking against the hull of a ship. All Sam knew for sure was that one little exhalation got him hard and that was all Dean needed to get what he wanted.

Sam sat on the sofa and thought about the garbage first, then the grocery list, and finally he had nothing left to think about except the fact that he was a few months away from graduating from college. He was a senior who had sex twice in his life and was currently getting his second blowjob ever from the hands and magnificent mouth and tongue of his big brother.

He wasn’t thinking about Dean doing it as his brother, just that he was the only person who had. Sam didn’t need to have any deep internal conversations with himself about their relationship because it just felt right. Sam knew he could have spread himself around, he knew there were parties every weekend where the girls who came to school in argyle sweaters and pleated skirts would get drunk and spread their cunts open for anyone with a hard enough cock.

Even his roommate once told him that he got head from three separate sluts during the same party. He had told Sam he’d take him and he could at least get a blowjob, most of the women he knew would gladly swallow and he wouldn’t have to bust his nut sitting on the toilet down the hall.

Sam had never actually done that, his masturbatory emissions were reserved for when he had the room to himself. It was never because he was horny. He always took his cock out and stroked himself to orgasm because he was stressed. He could handle school and an indifferent father, but he worried constantly about Dean alone, probably scared in the hospital wallowing in his unbelievable insanity.

Moving out of the dorms was one of the best things Sam had ever done for himself because his roommate, however well meaning, continually casually joked about his inability to go out and fuck a few chicks just for the hell of it. It wasn’t inability at all. He knew he could fuck, probably even get it up for a chick, he just didn’t want to.

He thought about it, of course, especially because his roommate was extremely gifted with words and liked to share his exploits while Sam tried to study or do homework. Fucking, getting his cock sucked that was great, but more than anything he liked to taste them. When he ate pussy he did it like a man just out of jail and they fucking loved it.

He liked those soft velvet folds which were even better if they were shaved or amazing if they were waxed. He wasn’t just interested in the outside he liked to hold them open and bathe their insides with his wide flat tongue. Sam entertained the thought for just a minute, and again, once he was alone. He imagined himself down on the edge of the bed with some nice girl’s legs resting on his shoulder while he sucked on her cunt like his roommate told him they loved.

He couldn’t get his dick hard when he thought about that nice girl, but it sprang to life when she turned into Dean and he was kissing hole instead of cunt. Sam wanted to tell his roommate so bad that he had done things that would even make him blush. He had buried his tongue so far up big brother’s tight hole he could taste his fucking eyeballs and if he got the perfect angle he could savor a little gray matter.

Sam never did tell him because he had to keep a secret. He let him harmlessly tease him about being the only virgin in the state of California, which he still did occasionally when Sam saw him around school. He had just seen him the previous week sporting a rather impressive sore over his lip that Sam laughed about when he was alone. Apparently after they parted ways the summer after their freshman year he kept up his exploits and his lifestyle finally caught up with him.

He probably had a hundred sexual partners and Sam had just one who could suck cock like he had done it a thousand times. Dean was an expert, probably more skilled than the entire female student body at Stanford.

Sam was rubbing the back of his head when he came and rhythmically moving his hips. He wanted to drive into his mouth hard, but he would never last long like that. He took it slow and let Dean work his cock for a half hour before he shot deep into his throat.

“Thank you,” Sam sighed. “That was incred…what’s wrong?”

Dean was frowning as he backed away and sat on his heels. He looked so upset, but it wasn’t the anger or rage, it was sadness. His eyebrows were just barely furrowed while Sam watched his tongue slide back and forth behind his lips. Once he swallowed he sighed too and then stood up to sit next to Sam on the sofa with his erection proudly sticking up under his pajama pants.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked again.

“Wasn’t a lot.”

“Want another secret?”

“How many you got?” Dean laughed. “Too many, Sammy.”

“I masturbated this morning while you were sleeping.”

“On me?”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I may be crazy, but I remember differently.”

“I meant while you were sleeping.”

Sam was a little upset and offended that Dean thought he would ever do that especially after what happened in the hospital. It was only natural that it was the first place his mind went so he decided to completely ignore it.

“You could have woken me up.”

“Well, it wasn’t planned.”

“You need to do that again you wake me up, ‘kay?”

“Absolutely.” Sam smiled. “He’s going to be gone for a little while longer.”

Sam nodded in the direction of Dean’s obviously erect cock. He wanted it incredibly bad. Dean had gotten him off twice, three time if you counted the boots but Sam hadn’t sucked him off yet. He didn’t even need to suck him off, he just wanted to see him come and watch the relief wash over his face.

He realized that wasn’t going to happen when Dean quickly grabbed his favorite quilt and spread it over his lap. Sam had never begged much in his life, but he came dangerously close.

“You shouldn’t hafta’.”

“I want to.”

“I don’t want you to,” Dean said shaking his head. “Not yet, not for a while.”

“That’s fine.”

“No it isn’t. You want to suck my cock real bad,” Dean laughed. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“That I want to suck his cock real bad look,” Dean laughed again. “I can’t.”

“Can I share your quilt a little?”

“I said you could use it with me.”

Dean pulled it back and got comfortable against the sofa so Sam could lean in against him. It was just what he wanted to do and Dean knowing that was just further proof of his progress. Sam pulled his knees up and squeezed in as tight as he could to get as close as possible and let Dean hold on to him.

“Can you tell me why?”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t tell me?”

“No, I can’t do it,” Dean sighed. “I tried a lot. All the time when I was alone which never happened. Dr. Grosse told me not to do it in the garden, but that’s the only place they ever left me alone.”

“You can’t have an orgasm?” Sam asked looking back.

“I tried,” Dean said “All the time.”

“How long has it been?”

“I can’t…” Dean sighed. “I think that night, inside of you. Don’t tell dad.”

“Dean,” Sam said sitting up straight. “Do you really think that’s something I’d talk to dad about?”

“I jus’ gotta be sure. He thinks something’s wrong with me because I have trouble peeing. I peed when I went to the bathroom jus’ fine.”

“Next time you have to pee we’ll kick him out.”

“Just,” Dean said slowly. “I mess up words and then you don’t say anything.”

He said with a severe emphasis on the T. Sam didn’t know what he was supposed to say. He understood what he was talking about and if he wanted to condense “Have to” into “Hafta’” or get up bright and whirly Sam had no problem with that.

Sam sometimes even condensed his own thoughts into short little half words inside his head. It was a sort of internal shorthand he used to cram more information into his brain. Dean hadn’t talked in so long it was completely understandable that he might sometimes use words that weren’t proper, but inside the apartment he could say whatever he wanted.

“Do you want me to say anything?” Sam asked as he leaned against him again.

“I don’t want you to make fun of me. I know you wouldn’t.”

“That’s right.”

“Even if I can’t pee or talk or come for you.”

“I’m sure you will soon enough.” Sam smiled.

“Hopefully not all at ones.”

“All at once.”

“Right, at once.”

“I think you were right, this quilt is incredibly comfy.”

“I told you.”

Sam got more comfortable and relished the feel of Dean’s behind him. He could be lying under sandpaper and he still would have felt just as good as he did under stitched cotton. It was all about Dean, but then it always had been.

When Dean shifted a little Sam thought he was trying to get more comfortable, but he had other ideas. Dean squirmed his arm over so it was hooked under Sam and then rested the soft palm of his hand flat against his stomach. Just that skin on skin contact made Sam sigh, it made his cock twitch.

He could still feel Dean’s erection gently rubbing against his back. Dean was doing the rubbing with slow twists of his hips. The cotton of Sam’s shirt and the flannel of Dean’s pants were between them and that just wouldn’t do.

“Take it out Dean.”

“It won’t do anything,” Dean whispered.

“It won’t hurt anything either.”

“Sammy, I…”

Dean shook his head and then used his free hand to push down his own pants and release his cock. He worked fast and yanked the back of Sam’s shirt up their skin could touch. Sam could feel the moist tip of his cock gliding across his spine. He knew it was the drugs because nothing would ever stop Dean from getting off.

Sam moved with him trying his best to make him come with little friction. He didn’t want to push it because there was a very good chance Dean would get frustrated and angry if he thought that Sam needed it.

“Can I…” Dean paused as he slid his hand down Sam’s stomach. “Can I jus’, just touch you.”

“Whatever you want to do.”

Sam wanted to be perverted and violated if necessary. He wanted Dean as rough as he could managed. He wanted to be spit on and kicked or just held and kissed. He wanted gentle loving making like in great romance novels or outright fucking like he sometimes looked up on the internet. He wanted to get fisted or shit on. He wanted Dean to light a dozen candles and bring him roses. He didn’t care what happened as long as Dean, his big brother, was happy.

All Dean wanted was to touch him. No whips or chains were necessary. He didn’t need chocolate dipped strawberries or bottles of wine. All he needed were his soft fingertips gently caressing Sam’s hole. He completely avoided his cock even though it was hard. Sam had come enough already and one more time would have made him sleep for hours.

“You never let anyone else in.”

“No,” Sam moaned. “Who else could fuck me like you can?”

“You’re so hot inside.”

“You can go deeper.”

The tip of Dean’s middle finger was just resting inside the knot. With a little encouragement he pushed though to the first knuckle and his thrusting against Sam’s back became a little more urgent. He was a little wetter and Sam could smell the sweat hanging in the air.

They hadn’t had actual sex, but the air was telling lies. That scent of two men fucking was unmistakable. It was like a locker room and Laundromat all rolled up into one. You could do your cardio and then a load of whites all in the same space.

“I’m real sorry for wanting to do this when you were a kid,” Dean whispered. “You were just a boy.”

“I’ve never been a boy.”

“I shouldn’t have thought about you like I did.”

“Dean,” Sam sighed. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“I loved you first, before I wanted to.”

“I know.”

Dean pushed in even deeper a little quicker than Sam would have liked, but he still didn’t really care. He felt so fucking good inside of him where he belonged he didn’t care about anything at all. Almost anything.

“Oh.” Dean moaned slowly. “Dad.”

Sam’s whole body went rigid and his heart sank. Dean had called him dad and Sam had to wonder who he was thinking about when they were in the shower or fucking last night in bed. He wanted to know who Dean had sucked off a few minutes ago and was currently in the process of fingering. Whose back was his cock sliding against?

“Dean.”

“He’s back,” Dean said slowly taking his fingers out. “We have a secret.”

“Oh.”

Dean hadn’t called him 'dad', he was just letting him know that he was back from the grocery. Sam quickly got up and spotted him walking across the street from where he had parked. His knees were a little weak as he stood at the window and opened it up, but Dean had that effect on people, especially when he used his fingers.

Sam was opening the window hoping that a few seconds of fresh air would clear the thick sex smell out of the apartment. He didn’t know if it was going to do any good or if he really cared at all.

When Dean stood up to join him, he had the quilt wrapped around his waist covering his erection. Sam’s disappeared as soon as he said 'dad' and he was furious with himself for thinking that Dean was imagining John in his place. Dean may have convinced himself he wanted to fuck him, but Sam was the only man he could actually be in love with.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“I think I was close,” Dean said kissing his cheek. “Thanks. Sammy, there’s an elephant outside our apartment.”

Sam laughed wondering how Dean was just now noticing the twelve foot fiberglass elephant across the street. It was bright pink, huge and completely obnoxious which was one of the main reasons Sam chose his particular apartment building.

“It’s a daycare.”

“Fah’ kids?” Dean asked. “For kids?”

“Yep. On the weekdays you can hear them all playing, see the playground in the back.”

“Yeah, I see it.” Dean nodded. “I see it.”

It took John three trips up and down the stairs to unload his truck with everything he had bought. He did it all with a smile on his face because he could see how excited Dean was each time a new bag entered the apartment. Sam had no idea how he had managed to buy so much stuff in such a short amount of time until he reminded himself that John always got the important jobs done. Making sure Dean was alright was probably his most important job to date.

The first thing he did was hand off the crinkled list just in case Dean wanted to make sure he got everything. He said he didn’t have to, but he would anyway because it might be fun. Kind of like a game they could all play. Sam could unpack everything and Dean would check it off. If John got everything on the list, then he could have hotdogs with them.

John had a few bags off to the side that he didn’t bring into the kitchen. Sam was praying they were presents because he knew how much that would mean to Dean. He saw a pillow and a blanket sticking out of the bag. It was from Linens-n-Things of all places which seemed like the least likely store John would have been to. It was in the same shopping center of the grocery store Sam always went to, so he had made a choice to spend a little more money in an effort to save time.

Once Dean was set up with a pencil at the kitchen table Sam started to take out all the groceries thankful that he had a lot of empty cabinets to stick them in. John bought their cheese weenies, chili and hot dog buns for dinner. He bought a huge bag of frozen French fries, another of onion rings, and a third of tater tots all of which weren’t on the list. Sam had no idea how they were going to cook them because he didn’t have oil to fry them or a pan to bake them in, but they’d figure it out.

He got crunchy peanut butter, smooth and the kind already mixed in with the jelly because he thought Dean would love to sit down with a jar, the spoon and a glass of milk. Not only did he purchase the strawberry jam, but he got strawberry jelly and preserves. He bought grape jelly, orange marmalade and some apple butter for himself. He figured that if they were going to be living together he was going to have a real breakfast each morning, the kind his mother used to make with eggs and toast smeared with apple butter.

He bought the ramen noodles and the exact Vienna sausages Dean was craving. He had a case of drinks, a pack of beer, and two gallons of milk since peanut butter and jelly practically demanded it. He bought all the cereal, chewy runts and four different kinds of cookies. Not only did he purchase everything on the list, but he managed to buy more food then they’d probably be able to eat in a month. He bought things Dean would love as well as a whole assortment of fresh fruit which he remembered Sam ate like candy as a child.

John was in it for the long haul and until they ran out of food or Dean said it was okay he wasn’t leaving. They were going to stay in the apartment eating and talking for as long as it took. He never actually said it, but Sam could tell that the life he lived was ending so he could finally be a father again.

He had always kept them fed and safe, but he stopped actually being a father when Sam turned six months old and his world fell apart. Dean needing him was his second chance. It was their second chance to become a family again which was so fucked up and wonderful Sam started to cry while staring at all the bright boxes of sugar laced cereal.

“What’s wrong Sam?”

“Nothing.”

“He’s real tired,” Dean said walking over next to him. “Exhausted.”

“I’m just…” Sam paused and smiled. “We’re all under one roof again. I really like that. I really missed you dad.”

“I missed you too. Both of you.”

“Thanks for getting us this stuff.”

“Hey.” John shrugged. “Everyone needs a job, right?”

“Dad, Sammy doesn’t have a pan to cook those fries on.”

“He doesn’t?”

“No, I checked everything this morning.”

“Well.” John laughed. “Will you help me with something?”

“If I can.” Dean nodded. “Sure.”

John smiled at both of them and nodded towards the living room and his mysterious bags which were filled with more things than linens. He pulled out the blanket and pillow first before he tossed them against the wall making Dean laugh.

He was sitting right where Sam was when he got his morning blowjob. That was funny to him for some reason and it made him feel a lot better about everything. He still wasn’t sure if John knew about them, but if he did he was a damn fine actor.

The very first thing John pulled out of his bag of goodies was one gigantic dark gray baking sheet. He may have not been a very good father, but he knew his sons. He knew that Sam was living by himself and was so busy with school that he probably wouldn’t be doing much cooking. All his cooking was mostly likely done stovetop with one pot and one pan.

“You’ve probably never even…”

“Turned the oven on,” Sam laughed. “You’re right. Thanks dad.”

“This is like Christmas!” Dean smiled. “’Cept it’s in California, so no snow.”

“I guess it is.” John said digging in his bag. “That’s good because I don’t feel stupid about this.”

John pulled a giant gift bag out of the bag from the store. It still had the tag on it which was so like him Sam laughed again and sat down on the sofa next to Dean. He was smiling like Christmas morning again while John struggled with the bag. It was obviously quite heavy and Dean had done a very thorough job of kicking his ass so he had a little trouble lifting it. He eventually managed and set it down between him and Dean.

“Go ahead.”

“It’s for me?”

“What did I always tell you to do with your brother?”

“Watch out for him?” Dean asked. “Are you mad because I wasn’t?”

“No Dean,” John laughed. “The other thing.”

“Oh,” Dean said quietly. “Share with him. You know I gave him my car.”

“I do.”

“You can have it back,” Sam whispered.

“I can’t drive for a while.”

“Well eventually you can have it back.”

“Thank God,” Dean laughed. “Can I open this?”

“Go for it.” John smiled.

Dean pulled out one huge tub of gummy worms first, then chocolate covered raisins, jelly beans, and bears, also in gummy form. He pulled out a tub of rainbow gumballs, chocolate covered pretzels and finally some sour patch kids all stuck together and sugary.

“Wow.”

“Good, right?” John asked digging in his pocket. “And I got you some Pepto.”

“I feel okay.”

“You think you still will after you eat all of that?”

“Oh, I guess you’re right,” Dean laughed. “Thanks, dad. I have two quilts, you can have my red, white and blue one.”

Sam knew how much those quilts meant to Dean and without any hesitation he gave one of them up. He had already said it reminded him of John, but Sam felt saddened that Dean thought he couldn’t get a gift without giving one back. It was really all he had besides his clothes. He had already given away his car and he wanted John to have his extra quilt which had meant so much to him in the hospital.

“I don’t need your quilt, Dean.”

“I want you to have it. I don’t have anything for you.”

“Do you think maybe you could do something for me later?”

“Like what?” Dean asked.

“My clothes are kind of funky. Do you have a washing machine here, Sam?”

“Downstairs, there are a few of them. I usually do laundry today.”

“I can fold.” Dean nodded. “I’ll help you.”

“Will you come downstairs and help us with the laundry?” John asked. “If you don’t want to that’s okay, but I thought we could do that together.”

Sam was incredibly impressed with John’s ability to handle Dean. Standing next to him while he pissed might have been something he would have a problem with, but he knew how to get him out of the apartment by asking for a favor and then pretending like it was something they were going to have a lot of fun doing.

Sam wasn’t even sure if he was pretending. Something as simple as laundry with his brother and father seemed like a perfectly fun way to spend a Sunday afternoon. He wasn’t sure how Dean would take the suggestion since he already said he didn’t want to leave yet. He could get angry or ignore it completely, anything could happen.

He looked at all his candy covering the coffee table and then back at John like he was wondering if he would lose his gift if he didn’t help him out. Sam knew he had to be thinking that he had already told John he would help if he could and if he didn’t then that was almost as bad as breaking a promise.

“I don’t know dad.”

“Is it far, Sam?”

“Nope, just near the bottom of the stairs.”

“Think we can try?” John asked. “If you don’t want to we can come right back up.”

“We’re out of towels.” Dean shrugged. “If I want to come back, we’ll just come back.”

“That’ll be the plan. It’s good to have a plan.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “Did you buy something for Sammy?”

“I got this cool baking pan.” Sam said picking it up. “Big enough for fries, onion rings and tater tots.”

“Nothing else for Sammy?”

“I got something for Sammy, don’t worry.”

John pulled up his second bag and handed it over to Sam. It was just as heavy as the first and even if it wasn’t a gift bag he didn’t really care. The thought was there and that was all that mattered. Dean was smiling even bigger than he did when he got his candy as Sam pulled the George Foreman grill out of the bag and set it in his lap. He had almost bought one a dozen times, but never wanted to splurge. He kept telling himself he’d get one the day after Thanksgiving when everything was on sale. but he never managed to drag himself out of bed on time.

“This is awesome.” Sam smiled.

“Dad, you remember when we watched that?”

“I do.” John nodded.

“Before I asked you to…” Dean sighed. “Sammy you cook food in there and the fat all drains off.”

“I know and you can cook anything in it.”

They must have watched the infomercial before Dean asked John to fuck him, or begged him. It seemed like he was begging. He might he able to get over everything but Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get over that. He had to be embarrassed and ashamed even though John had said he understood.

“Dean,” John said. “It’s okay.”

“I know. I jus’ feel real bad.”

“It’s okay.”

“I said that to you dad,” Dean said without looking at him. “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have wanted to do that.”

“How do I make this better?”

“You can’t,” Dean sighed. “I said that and I can’t take it back.”

“Would you feel better if we all said it?” John asked.

“Maybe.”

John nodded and took in a deep breath while he looked past Dean and directly at Sam. Sam was willing to do anything it took to make Dean feel better, even if it was having to listen to John talk.

“Sam,” John cleared his throat. “I…I want to fuck you.”

“I want to fuck you too dad. Then Dean.”

“Sammy.” Dean laughed.

“After I fuck you I’ll fuck Dean then you can both fuck me. Twice.”

“You two are so dumb,” Dean said shaking his head. “It’s different because you don’t mean it.”

“Like hell I don’t,” John said pointing at Sam. “Look at him. He’s tall and smart.”

“Dad’s been wearing the same jacket for ten years and it still looks good on him.” Sam smiled.

“I get a lot of exercise.”

“And I don’t know right from wrong.”

“Yes you do,” Dean laughed. “I taught you.”

“Well, there’s got to be something else good about me.”

“You’re you,” Dean told him. “That’s the best thing about you.”

“See.” John shrugged. “Now we’ve all said it. We’re all in the same boat.”

That wasn’t exactly true because Sam did want to fuck Dean. He wanted to do it all over the apartment and then get fucked right back. Dean obviously didn’t care whether or not it was true. He was smiling and laughed while he took turns looking at both of them.

Sam loved to hear him laugh because it sounded exactly the same as it did before the hospital. It was deep and hearty and his eyes would crinkle up while all his perfect white teeth glowed.

“I am real sorry dad.”

“It’s okay. I promise you I’m not mad. I stopped being mad as soon as I couldn’t find you.”

“Okay.”

“Do you believe me?” John asked.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “I do.”

“Great. Now I have one more thing for both of you.”

“You forgot our plant.”

“I don’t forget anything.”

John leaned over the sofa and pulled out their very own windowsill herb garden. It wasn't an actually plant yet, but Dean would probably appreciate it a lot more because he could plant the seeds and check the progress daily. They might even be able to use the herbs in cooking something in Sam’s brand new grill.

“Awesome.” Dean said taking it in his hands. “There are six.”

“Don’t plant any pot in there.”

“I won’t,” Dean said as he studied it. “Sammy this says we can be enjoying fresh herbs in as little as three weeks. Can we put it in the kitchen window?”

“Best window in the house.”

“Will you help us plant it dad?” Dean asked.

“I think me and Sam will supervise.”

“I can do it by myself.”

Once again John was a master at what he was doing. Getting Dean to plant the herbs by himself wasn’t anything big, but it was a major step for them. All three of them got off the sofa with Dean leading the way. He read the directions several times before he got to work wetting the pellets to make pots and shaking in the tiny envelopes of seeds. He even wiped off the windowsill before he place it in the exact center.

“Now we wait,” Dean said as he washed his hands. “In a few weeks we can make something.”

“Awesome,” Sam said looking over the dark brown soil. “That gives us just enough time to figure out how to cook with herbs.”

“I think we should take shifts.”

“With what?” John asked.

“With cooking dad. We can each take two days and then order food on the seventh day. Since you bought the food and Sam made breakfast I can make the hot dogs for dinner then you can cook tomorrow. We’ll take turns with the dishes too.”

“I guess you’ve got it all worked out.”

“I think I do,” Dean said as he sat down. “I mean that seems to be fair.”

“Except none of us know how to cook,” Sam laughed.

“It’s not hard, Sammy.”

“And even if it was.” John smiled. “I think the three of us can handle anything.”

Sam thought Dean was making amazing progress until they tried to do laundry. As soon as he stepped out of the apartment he started crying and squeezing Sam’s hand so hard he thought sure it would break. It was like just being outside was more than he could handle, even more than should realistically be expected of him.

He was always outside at the hospital, but as soon as they left he seemed anxious and practically ran up the stairs towards the apartment. He needed walls around him to feel safe, but Sam and John must have been a pretty good substitute for wood and plaster because he didn’t try to head back inside.

He squeezed a little harder and took a few steps forward. John was waiting as patiently as ever with the laundry basket in his arms and his bag slung over his shoulder. Ideally Sam would have been carrying the laundry, but he had to hold Dean’s hand.

“Everyone is gonna laugh at me.”

“I have dirt on all these people,” Sam whispered. “Every person that lives here. If they laugh at you I’ll fuck them up and kick their asses.”

“I’ll shoot ‘em.”

“And dad will shoot them. Do you want to go back?”

“No, I said I’d help.”

If anyone even looked at Dean they were getting their asses kicked. If he heard one whispered comment Sam was going to drag all their dirty laundry out for everyone to hear. The woman who lived below him had special study sessions with another woman whenever her boyfriend was at work. They’d meet up and spend hours moaning into each other while Sam sighed and tried to turn the music on his laptop a little louder.

There was a man on the first floor who was financing his education by selling pot. People were in and out of his apartment all hours of the night. Sam had actually seen money exchanged for a small green bag once. His complex was filled with cheating girlfriends, drug dealers, and binge drinkers. He was the only person who lived there that could keep a secret.

The only person he actually liked was a girl who was in a few of his classes. Her name was Wendy and she was perfectly nice. Sam had participated in a mild flirtation because he thought she might like that. It had never gone anywhere because he wasn’t interested, but it was still fun. She might ask to borrow a pen during class and once she had gotten brave and come up to his apartment for a cup of sugar. Sam didn’t have any and apologized and then seriously considered buying a bag the next day.

She was doing laundry when they finally got Dean down the stairs. It had taken a half hour one step at a time. He cried the entire time and Sam did his best to stay strong. John looked like he was on the verge of tears more than once but he held it together.

Sam was a little worried about Dean having to deal with a stranger, but at least it was Wendy who he knew wouldn’t make any comments or stare at him. She was a good trial run, like the best of the real world. If Dean could get through a couple loads of laundry with her, then Sam knew he could eventually deal with everyone else again like he had before the hospital.

“Hi Sam.”

“Hi Wendy.” Sam smiled. “Laundry day.”

“It’s got to be done.”

“This is my dad, John and my brother Dean.”

“Hi,” John said sticking out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“Hi,” Dean said quietly. “Are you friends with Sammy?”

“We have some classes together.” She smiled. “I don’t think it’s fair that three such good looking guys are in the same family.”

“I’m only partly responsible for these two.” John laughed.

“My mom was real pretty.”

“I bet she was. You look more like her, don’t you?”

“That’s what she told me.”

“You do,” John said looking at him. “You look a lot like her.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

1. Dean’s voice was so quiet and he was still holding on to Sam’s hand. Wendy wasn’t going to say anything even if she noticed something off about his behavior. It was probably very confusing because she didn’t know what to think. Dean was still very articulate so she wouldn’t think he was mentally handicapped or if she did she must have thought he was highly functional. Maybe she knew that darkness that was hiding right behind his eyes because she only smiled at him.

“Because of your pants?”

“What?” Dean asked.

“Your pants.” She pointed. “I wouldn’t make fun of those because they’re Sam’s favorite.”

“How’d you know?”

“Well he’s always washing them on Sundays.”

“He said I could borrow them.” Dean smiled. “I was in the hospital, but I’m going to live upstairs with him now. Did you see that elephant across the street?”

“Yep, we call him Tiny.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

“Because he’s so big.”

Dean seemed extremely interested in her and as he laughed he finally loosened his grip. Things were going much better than Sam expected. It was almost like Dean had made a friend and that made him very happy.

“We’re going to do laundry now.”

“Okay. It was nice to meet you Dean.”

“You too.” Dean smiled. “If you need help folding just tell us.”

“I will.”

“She’s nice,” Dean whispered after she walked off. “Real nice.”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “Let’s do this thing.”

The laundry room of the building only had a few washers, but Sam always used the same one because he thought that was cleaner, more sanitary. It was one of those little things he always did. It was the same washer Dean went for after he picked up the basket of laundry John had placed on the floor.

Just like the Winchester family tradition had always been Dean dumped all the clothes in at once without sorting anything by color or fabric. It needed to get done and their clothes were so well worn nothing would run.

The priority was the blood stained towels and John’s clothes but Dean had very nicely asked if he could wash a few of his old things that had been sitting in his bag for the past three years. He picked out his jeans and one of his favorite shirts and a whole armful of socks because he didn’t like the ones Sam had without gray soles.

John was watching and he had noticed the three bloody towels going in when there should have only been the one they cleaned him up with. He was at the next washer over doing the same thing Dean was, cramming as many of his clothes in as he could.

“Dad, I want to put the quarters in.”

“Okay.”

“You get to push that thing in, it’s fun.” Dean nodded. “I like that.”

After everything was in Sam pulled out the small fortune in quarters he always had on hand. Dean took eight of them and started their load first and then John’s. He even measured the detergent with a smile on his face. Sam could never remember him ever enjoying laundry even in one magnificent rental where they could do it and stay at home.

Sam hated Laundromats because they were always so sleazy and smoky sometimes. He didn’t mind the room at the apartment because it was kept up fairly regularly and aside from the occasional empty can or bag of chips it was clean.

“How long do they usually take?”

“Twenty minutes.” Sam smiled. “How do you feel?”

“Much better.”

“Good,” John told him. “Do you want to go outside? There’s a courtyard out there.”

“I think we should stay here, just in case.”

“In case what?” John asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Dean.” Wendy waved. “Can you help me with my sheets.”

“In case someone needs our help,” Dean whispered. “Sammy, I’m going to help, don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” Sam said hopping onto one of the dryers. “I’ll stay right here.”

“Okay.”

As soon as Dean’s back was turned Sam mouthed “Thank you” towards Wendy. She would never know anything that had happened to Dean, but she could tell he wanted to help. Sam had helped her with the sheets more than once although she had confessed that she only had one set and once they were washed they went right back on the bed.

“I’m very concerned,” John whispered.

“So am I.”

Sam expected John to at least make a little causal conversation first, but as soon as Dean was out earshot he laid all his concerns out.

“Did he hurt himself in the apartment? I saw the towels.”

“No.”

“He’s so innocent again. You really have no idea what happened?”

“You know everything I do,” Sam whispered. “I don’t want to know unless he has to tell me. Both of us are better off not knowing.”

“How do you know that?” John sighed. “He asked you too, didn’t he?”

Sam had figured John knew, but he never expected him to bring it up. He thought it was one of those things he’d completely ignore like when he told him that he got into Stanford and he was going. John ignored the passing months and then blew up when it was time for him to leave.

“And you didn’t tell him no,” John said staring at him.

“I didn’t want to.”

“Jesus.” John sighed again and exhaled hard. “Was he there because of something you two did together?”

“No, he said it was after that and that it was the only way to keep us safe.”

“I don’t think you two should be doing anything together.”

“And I don’t think you have a say in the matter.”

He hadn’t actually told their secret because he promised he never would. John hadn’t asked if they were together or in a relationship. Sam knew he’d never ask that because he didn’t have to.

“Is this healthy?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you love him?” John whispered. “Does he love you?”

“What do you think dad?”

“I think he wanted me because you weren’t there. I think he didn’t go with you because he didn’t want to disappoint me. I think he’s a child again because I never let him be one.”

“And?”

“And I think,” John said looking over at Dean. “Even now he may be better off than he was.”

“So do I.”

“He’s dealing with things instead of ignoring them. He’s terrified, but he seems happy. Are you both happy?”

“We are.” Sam nodded. “Please don’t…”

“I won’t.” John shook his head. “Whatever you’re about to say I won’t. I won’t say anything. I won’t do anything. I’ll sleep on that sofa and go to the grocery until my son is okay again.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” John smiled touching the side of Sam’s face. “You’re a good brother.”

“And you’re a good father.”

John backed away and pretended to check on the laundry when Dean came walking back with Wendy. She had all her clothes folded and ready to go.

“Dean invited me to dinner.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked. “That’ll be nice.”

“But she has plans.”

“Yeah.” Wendy frowned. “We can have dinner another day. I have some lame study group tonight. I don’t even want to go, but I promised Jess I’d give her….”

“Who?” Dean asked. “Who did you promise?”

“Jess. Do you know her Sam? Blonde hair? I can’t remember if we had a class together last year.”

“Do you know her Sammy?” Dean asked frantically. “Tell me!”

“No,” Sam said shaking his head. “I don’t know any Jess. I’ve never met any Jess.”

“Nevah?”

“No, what’s wrong Dean?”

“If you come to dinner you can’t bring her.” Dean told Wendy. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” Wendy nodded. “Don’t worry, she’s a pain in the ass.”

“Is she?” Dean asked.

“Always needing a ride all over the place. It’s annoying. I’d much rather have cheese hot dogs with you.”

“We don’t have any onions.”

“I bought you onions,” John said touching Dean on his shoulder. “A whole bag.”

“I might use onion rings.”

“On hot dogs?” Wendy asked. “What a smart idea.”

“You think I’m smart?”

“Of course you are.” Wendy nodded. “Smart and cute. It really isn’t fair. Dean, meeting you has been the highlight of my day. My sheets have never been folded neater.”

Dean laughed and stuck out his hand like he had neglected to do when he met her. Wendy shifted her basket and shook it firmly making him smile even bigger. She was just a casual acquaintance, but she had maybe done more for Dean than Sam and John could do alone.

She had helped him realize that life outside the apartment wasn’t nearly as scary as he thought it was. There were nice people out there who didn’t make fun of him and complimented him on how smart and cute he was.

“Well she was real nice.”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “She’s sweet.”

“And you promise me you don’t know Jess?”

“Not that I know of.” Sam shrugged. “I mean if I saw her I might recognize her from around campus, but I doubt it. I don’t really have any friends.”

“You don’t?” John asked. “You’ve been here for three years, why haven’t you made any friends?”

“Well,” Sam sighed. “My roommate freshman year was a whore mongering idiot. With school and work I’ve just been really busy.”

“That job at the library must pay pretty well.”

“No, it doesn’t. I’ve kind of been writing other peoples papers on the side.”

“Sammy!” Dean laughed. “You could get in trouble for that.”

“You could get expelled for that,” John said. “Why would you risk your education doing that?”

“I needed money, dad. It’s easy, I could do it fast and people are stupid.”

“Did you do that for me Sammy? So I could be in the hospital?”

“I did it for rent and the bills.”

“I lef’ you a lot of money.”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “That’s what I paid the hospital bills with.”

Sam was lying, but Dean looked very upset at the idea that he was working to keep him in the hospital. It was easy money, but it was exhausting and Dean’s money had run out after a few months. Dean breathed a sigh of relief and hopped up on the dryer next to Sam. One little lie wouldn’t hurt anything, but Sam was only going to lie to him when it was absolutely necessary.

John had to have known too why Sam had taken such a demeaning job, but he didn’t say anything. He playfully swatted at Dean for a second making him laugh while he swatted back.

“Stop.”

“We used to do this all the time when you were a kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Dean laughed.

“So what are we doing tonight guys?” John asked. “We gotta do something besides hot dogs.”

“Like what?” Sam asked. “I have a deck of cards.”

“That won’t work, we all cheat,” John laughed. “We’ll have to make a promise not to cheat.”

“We could get some strippers,” Dean said looking over at Sam. “Nah, cards sounds better.”

“We can compromise and play strip poker.”

“Sammy,” Dean said nudging him.

“So cards?” John asked. “Regular poker?”

“That sounds fun dad.”

“Can me and Sammy be on the same team?”

“Can I cheat a little?” John asked. “Two against one isn’t fair.”

“Neither is one against the world.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“We’ll play cards tonight and that’ll be fun for us.”

Dean nodded and looked at his hands while Sam and John stared at each other. He seemed like he wanted to tell them what happened, but every time he tried he thought better of it and changed the subject. Sam knew John wanted to ask, but he had already learned in just a few hours with Dean to not press anything and let it come out on it’s own.

“Hey dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you about something?” Dean asked.

“Of course.”

“I’m having trouble when I try to…”

Dean looked up from his hands and over to Sam. He couldn’t believe that Dean was actually about to talk to John about his inability to have an orgasm especially after he made sure Sam wouldn’t say anything. It was probably a step in the right direction because it showed that he was trusting him again. If he trusted him there might be a chance he’d be okay alone with him if Sam ever had to leave him for whatever reason.

They had never really talked about sex. Dean had questions and concerns when he was just becoming a teenager and apparently John had given him a very short and awkward speech about sex, women and masturbation. Sam only had one question that he asked Dean instead of John. He wanted to know if anything bad was going to happen if he masturbated too much and Dean just laughed and told him he’d probably spend a lot of time napping and then promised nothing bad would happen.

“Nevah mind.”

“You can tell me.”

“You won’t get mad?”

“Nope,” John said looking over at Sam. “I won’t get mad, no matter what you tell me.”

“Sammy, will you tell him? That thing we talked about?”

“Dean, uh, he can’t seem to have an orgasm.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know why,” Dean sighed. “I want to.”

“It’s the drugs.” John nodded. “You ever had a problem before?”

“No.”

“Then it’s the drugs. I think if you take a few days, maybe drink some uh,” John laughed. “Whatever it is, that juice.”

“Cranberry?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, cranberry juice. You’ll be in detox.”

“Detox?” Dean asked.

“Oh yeah, like a celebrity.” John smiled. “I’m not going to be mad at you Dean. I don’t want you to think that you can’t talk to me about anything.”

“Anything?”

“Whatever you need to say I can listen. I can do my best to understand.”

Dean’s eyes had been locked on him, but with one little laugh he looked away to stare at Sam. He could tell him since he already knew. If Dean wanted to share everything they had ever done together Sam would have been fine with that if it helped him. He could have given John a play by play of their first night together and Sam would have filled in the details about who came first and how good Dean tasted.

“I want you to stay here with us.”

“I said I’d stay as long as you need me.”

“That’s the thing,” Dean whispered. “You’re our dad, we’re always gonna need you. I saw a sign, right under our apartment, you can live there.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want my family back.” Dean nodded. “I want my dad and my brother. I’ll live with Sammy and when it’s your turn to cook we’ll just walk down the stairs.”

Dean had the sweetest smile on his face while he spoke, just barely whispering. He really wanted John there with them and Sam knew that even once he was better he’d still want him around even if they were adults and didn’t actually need him.

“Hey, maybe I can get me a twenty year old girlfriend,” John laughed. “I’ll stay with you two for a while and then I’ll move into that apartment.”

“Really?” Dean asked. “What about everyone else?”

“Fuck everyone else.”

Sam had seen Dean at his happiest in the few seconds before they kissed for the first time. He had pulled Sam up off the ground and was holding on to his hand so tight it was uncomfortable. Sam had smiled at him because that happiness could have easily been confused with the look on a dying man’s face after living a whole life full of wonderful moments free of heartache and loss. That was Dean as his best with his thumb sliding across the skin of Sam’s cheek.

When they did kiss it was so innocent and quick like brothers that had been raised different might have done it. Sam wasn’t sure if adult brothers ever kissed, but it seemed plausible to him at the time. Dean had made it quick because he still wasn’t sure of Sam’s reaction. Sam had made their second kiss much more passionate with hands and tongues searching until they fell backwards into the bed.

The worst Sam had ever seen him was the first time the doctors allowed him to visit with Dean in the hospital. He was so scared and he still looked like he was dying, but that was after a tragic life where nothing ever went right and he was never in love. Even when Sam told him they were leaving the hospital and Dean got angry he didn’t look as bad or as lost as he did that first time.

That night when he started dinner Sam got to see him at his most content. It was completely different from happiness because he was happy, calm and safe in the kitchen. Since they had come back to the apartment after finishing up the laundry, Dean constantly asked if he could still make dinner. He didn’t stop asking until Sam promised him he could do it.

Sam had finally realized that in order for Dean to understand something he had to promise him. Just saying something wasn’t good enough, he needed the promise. So Sam did it, he promised that as soon as Dean wanted to he could fix dinner.

He was a little worried about doing it by himself, so Sam and John made another promise that they would help. If he needed anything they were both going to be sitting at the kitchen table ready and waiting to offer any assistance.

By six o’clock John had lost thousands of imaginary dollars at poker and Dean was ready to fix dinner. He was sitting next to Sam on the sofa while John sat on the ground on the other side of the coffee table. John was absolutely cheating because he rarely won a hand. He was letting Dean win unless the stakes weren’t very high. Besides the imaginary money John was betting small steps forward and he always won those hands.

So far Dean owed him another trip outside with the three of them. He owed him a half hour in the courtyard with Sam. John even managed to win himself a trip around the corner with both of his sons. He didn’t have any timelines for when he expected to be paid, but when Dean was ready they were going to do it.

If he wanted to they could walk the block or get in the Impala and just go for a drive, like the three of them had when they were kids. John would even drive and let Dean sit in the backseat and crack jokes with Sam.

During their game Dean seemed so coherent. The only time he had either of them asking what he meant was when he mentioned how much of a relief it was that he never had to rebuild his car and that Sam’s laptop was still okay. John had begun to question what that meant, but instead just told Dean that if he ever had to rebuild the car they could do it together.

The first thing Dean did once he was in the kitchen was rip open everything that had to go into to the oven. He read over the directions and asked his first question about whether or not it was okay to bake everything at once even if the fries and onion rings needed two separate temperatures. They ended up compromising and baking them at 375, halfway between the recommended times for each.

He sprayed the pan and slid it into the oven as soon as it was preheated like the directions told him to. Sam was amazed the thing even worked because it had never been on, not even once.

Dean took Sam’s solitary pot next and asked for assistance in getting the can of chili open. John wasn’t sure what they might like so he bought it with beans and without. Dean was going to mix both of them together so it wouldn’t be too beany. Sam opened one can while John got the other one open. Dean was still cooking dinner though because he dumped them both into the pot and got to work on the hotdogs.

John had set up the grill on the counter and once again Dean gave the instructions a thorough reading while the chili simmered. He removed the grill pans and gave them a quick washing just in case they were dirty. He was having so much fun and besides having to make sure he was doing everything right he was pretty efficient. He even set the timer on the microwave so he’d know exactly when to take everything out of the oven.

As the chili came to a boil he dumped all ten hotdogs onto the grill and closed the top, smiling when he heard them sizzle. With a few minutes to spare he set the table and got John a beer. He got himself and Sam a soft drink and ripped off a few paper towels for napkins.

He didn’t bother with any presentation once all the food was cooked. The pan from the oven went on top of the stove and Dean tore open the bag of buns so everyone could help themselves. He had everything out, the extra cheese, mustard and a huge bottle of ketchup which tastes good on everything.

Sam made his hot dog with just a small spoonful of chili and some cheese. John’s had no chili at all, just some mustard and cheese with a few fries on top of it. Dean added everything to his. He put the cheese on first, then layered chili on top so it would melt. He dressed it with onion rings, mustard and ketchup. Then he put even more cheese on top of that until the thing was so big he grabbed a fork and his own knife without any hesitation at all.

“How is it?” Dean asked after John took a bite. “Did I do good?”

“You did great, this is exactly why I never made hotdogs when you two were growing up.”

“What?” Sam laughed.

“There’s no way I could get them right.”

“Are they really that good Sammy?”

“Lemme see.”

Sam took a bite of his hotdogs while Dean studied his face. He could have faked something that was close to ecstasy, but he didn’t want to give too overblown a performance so he just closed his eyes and smile while he chewed. Hotdogs with canned chili were extremely easy to make, after all it was just really warming, but Sam was certain that if anyone else had tired they wouldn’t have been half as good.

“Oh man. I think you need to cook at least three times a week.”

“Three times?” Dean laughed. “Really?”

“They’re great Dean. You did a really good job.”

“Thanks, Sammy.” Dean said as he took his first bite. “Oh, they’re best with the cheese inside.”

“I’ve never had these,” John said as he looked at the hotdog. “It’s just kind of mixed in.”

“They’re real good still cold.”

“Really?” John asked. “Good hot too. Do you like the grill?”

“Yeah and they had recipes in the book. It’s real easy. I bet you could put just about anything in there.”

“It’ll be fun finding out,” Sam laughed.

“Not eggs though,” Dean said looking over at the grill. “We’d have to save those for a pan.”

“I’m really good at making eggs,” John laughed. “That’s really all I ever cooked.”

“Dad, you can make breakfast for us tomorrow. You can make us eggs. You don’t break the yolks, do you?”

“No.” John smiled. “I’ll keep them together for you.”

“I can tell you what happened, both of you. If you want me to.” Dean nodded. “If you need to me.”

“Do you need to tell us?” John asked.

“No.”

“Do you want to?” Sam asked.

“Not really.”

“Then don’t. You’re going to stay here with me and dad will live really close by. We’ll be a family. Okay?”

Dean nodded and smiled at both of them before he went back to eating his hot dog which even he thought was the best one he ever had.

Sam thought things were going great when he went to sleep next to Dean that night. Dean was getting more coherent with every minute that passed. He was functioning fairly well for someone who had been so scared just twenty-four hours ago. He even managed to take a shower in the bathroom alone. The door was still open, but Sam was on the sofa.

He had sat down with John and once again waited for him to start talking about Dean, but he never did. He wanted to know all about school and everything Sam had done since he left home. They didn’t have to talk about Dean because neither of them wanted to know what happened especially if he didn’t want them to. If he had to relive it there was a very good chance it would be detrimental to his progress and neither of them wanted that.

While John sipped a beer Sam told him everything he wanted to know. He spoke of his hypersexual roommate in great detail which made John laugh and quite seriously say that he had never heard of anyone actually sucking on a cunt. He said 'cunt' which had Sam coughing on his bottle of water. They were just talking like two guys, maybe even like friends which was just as weird as anything else that had happened in Sam’s life.

It was the kind of conversation he had always imagined if John had been a more traditional father raising two boys on his own. They could be crass and a little filthy because that’s what guys did when they were alone. They drank beer and burped without hands over their mouths. John never did burp, but he laughed while Sam told the stories of his first three years at Stanford.

They were hard and challenging, but he knew he had made the right choice because he was going to be someone. Once Dean was better he’d go back to school, finish up his last year and then start law school. John had no idea he was majoring in Political Science or even what it was until Sam explained it.

They talked the entire time Dean was in the shower and even after he came back smelling like soap which he had done all by himself. They fell asleep in bed that night next to each other with door open and even after all the lights were off they were still talking with John.

Dean had rearranged the pillow so they were at the end of the bed and their feet were against the wall. John had moved on the sofa so they could see each other and keep up the conversation until Dean’s light snores filled the apartment and they all fell asleep.

That night when they finally got to be a real family almost replaced the night they first slept together as Sam’s favorite. It was second on his list and only missed first place because even a perfect night wouldn’t be able to trump his night with Dean.

The first time they slept together Sam woke up alone with Dean standing at the window looking out at the street and ready to say goodbye. After their first night as a family Sam woke up alone again, but Dean was nowhere to be found.

He jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen and then the bathroom. He even checked the closet before roughly shaking John awake with tears in his eyes. Dean had said he wanted more than anything to have a family and now they were alone. He was gone and Sam felt that darkness at the thought of losing him again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dean’s gone!”

“What?” John asked quickly sitting up.

“He’s gone dad. He’s not here. I checked everything.”

“Okay, calm down. Did he leave a note or anything?”

Sam got up off his knees and ran back to the kitchen to scan every inch of it searching for something, like that first note he got asking for a favor. There was nothing anywhere, no hints or clues. He quickly dug through the drawers and then his closet making sure all the sharp instruments on his list were still there. He counted them all. Dean had left and not taken anything with him, not even the car keys that were hanging on a hook where Sam always put them because he always lost them even in a very neat apartment.

He stared at the little herb garden that hadn’t had time to sprout anything. It was just dirt or moss, he wasn’t sure. Dean had read the directions, Sam hadn’t even glanced at them because he trusted him. He trusted him and he just left without a word, not even a note.

“Sam.”

“Why would he leave?”

“Come see,” John said beckoning him over. “I see him.”

Sam ran to the window and ripped back the curtain to make sure he really was out there. Dean had left the apartment all on his own, but he hadn’t gone far. Across the street at the day care where all the kids were already having fun in the playground, there was Dean sitting on the curb of the parking lot with his head in his hand. Sam could see him rocking like he was crying.

He looked like he had wandered off and couldn’t find his way back home, like he was lost again, but now Sam could find him.

“Go.”

“I thought he left.”

“Just go, Sam.”

Without bothering to get dressed or even put on shoes Sam ran out of the apartment and down the stairs he had been on a thousand times. The most amazing thing about Dean leaving the apartment wasn’t that he did it on his own, it was that he managed to sneak out while John was sleeping just a few feet away.

Even in his sleep John was vigilant and would stir with even the quietest noise. Dean had snuck out without making a sound. All that silence had paid off because now he could evade the master and be undetected when he needed to.

Sam was running through the traffic just trying to get to him. He knew if one of the cars honking had hit him he would have dusted himself off and kept on running. His socks were turning black which wouldn’t have been so obvious if he had the gray soles Dean favored. Once he got back to the apartment he was going to make the switch because he still wanted to be his big brother.

He was out of breath and sweating as he closed in on Dean. He was raking his hands through his hair and still rocking, but all Sam could really see was how neatly laced his boots were. He loved those boots and the fact that Dean had woken up, dressed in silence and left all by himself.

“Dean?”

“Sammy?” Dean said looking up. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Sam said as he squatted down in front of him. “I was worried.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“With what?”

“I’m going to get a job in there. I was at least. I don’t think they’ll hire me though.”

Sam looked up at the help wanted sign in the huge glass window of the daycare. Dean must have spotted it when they did laundry or when he first noticed Tiny the elephant. They had money and he didn’t need a job, but he obviously wanted one. Sam wasn’t sure if they’d hire him, especially when he was still getting better. They might not trust him around kids even if he would be great at it.

“Because I’m…” Dean paused. “Crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.”

“I’m…”

“You’re not retarded either. You remember how you said you never got to do what you wanted to?”

“I never did.”

“Do you want to do this?”

“Emily wanted a baby.” Dean nodded. “If I had told her that I loved her instead of nodding she might have been able to get better and get a job like this.”

“She knew you loved her.”

“Did she? I never said it.”

“We never said it and we knew.” Sam smiled. “You don’t need a job, but if you want one, I know you can get this one.”

“What if I say the wrong words?”

“You know how many wrong words you said when we were talking to dad last night?” Sam asked.

“A lot probably.”

“Not one. You didn’t jus’ or hafta’ anything. You showered alone and made it down by the stairs by yourself.”

“It was really hard though.”

“That’s what life is Dean,” Sam said as he sat down next to him. “It’s not easy. It’s hard and scary, terrifying sometimes, but when it’s not it’s amazing.”

“You are Sammy.”

“So are you. See dad up there?” Sam pointed. “He’s at the window.”

When they both looked over John waved. He hadn’t moved an inch since Sam left the apartment. He was standing still and waiting because he knew Sam could fix whatever happened to Dean. They had been doing that for each other their whole lives.

“I see him.”

“I bet he’d tell you that you could get a job here. I bet he’ll be so proud of you for at least trying. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“They’ll tell me no and to get out.”

“Is that so bad?”

“I guess not.” Dean shrugged.

“Go ahead.” Sam motioned with his head. “I believe in you.”

“If I get this job you have to go back to school. Promise me.”

“I promise. Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck Sammy.” Dean said as he stood up. “I have you.”

For an hour Sam sat outside and John stayed in the window. He thought about how amazing it would be if he really could go back to school after only missing a day. Dean could work at the daycare and walk back and forth since the apartment was so close. At the end of exams the three of them could all get together and cook something or go out and eat.

In his senior year Sam could finally have the experience he wanted all along. When he made the dean’s list John would be proud of him and Dean would be there when he graduated. After his first day of law school they could all kick back with a beer and laugh with each other like families were supposed to.

John would be in the apartment below them and Sam wouldn’t have to worry about him getting hurt of killed. Most importantly Dean would be in the same apartment with him where he belonged. They would leave together for school and work and then meet up at the end of the day for dinner.

For an hour Sam thought about that life, even the possibility of it made him just as happy and being with Dean always did. He was so proud of him because the doctor had said weeks, even years and Dean had acclimated to everyday life over the course of a weekend.

“Sammy.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked quickly standing up.

“It’s a bunch of women in there. The said they need a strong guy who can help out moving big boxes and sometimes I could read to the kids if I wanted to.”

“Yeah?”

“And I got to see the playground and they have a little garden. It’s really nice.”

“Really nice?” Sam asked.

“It’s really nice,” Dean said again. “I can start tomorrow.”

“Congratulations.”

Dean smiled bigger than ever as he hugged him and even picked him up a few inches off the ground. Those women inside wanted a strong man to help out with heavy boxes, but they had no idea just how much strength they were about to get.

Dean thought he was at about eighty percent. Sam said he was probably closer to ninety-five and John thought ninety-eight sounded better. The only thing the three of them agreed on was that he was just shy of complete again.

He had managed everything on his own from going to the bathroom to leaving the apartment. If he was going to complete his recovery he wanted to do one more thing before he went to his first real job.

As expected John was incredibly proud of him and quite sure he’d do an amazing job even if it was just moving around boxes and sometimes reading. He knew that with a little hard work Dean would be able to do something else at the daycare more involved with the kids, if that’s what he wanted, which he did.

Even though John had a bet to collect on he didn’t mind that Dean wanted to go for his ride alone with Sam. They weren’t just going around the block. They were driving an hour like Sam did once a week to go back to the hospital. Dean wanted to return to Hill Grove just to prove to himself that he was better off outside the walls and high fences. He wanted to have a real conversation with Dr. Grosse since he had mostly ignored him for three years.

Just like when they had left Sam held his hand as they walked inside. He had driven only because Dean didn’t feel like he was up to it. He was so much better, but still feeling a little funny from the lack of mind numbing drugs they had been giving him. He couldn’t risk a twitch or anything else that might hurt Sam. He didn’t care about what happened to the car because John had promised to rebuild it with him if anything happened, which Dean was sure never would.

In the office Sam sat down and stared at the poster on the wall and prepared to play spot the smudge. He had told Dean all about it and wasn’t surprised that he always did the same thing during his sessions with the doctor whether they be one on one or the group therapy he always hated.

Sam stared at the poster of the small cat in wildflowers while they waited. He remembered every Saturday where he did the exact same thing usually after talking to Dean and occasionally having a bite of a jelly roll. It looked different now, but then everything did. The colors were brighter and the cat looked a little clearer. Sam even thought he could smell the wildflowers even though he realized that was ridiculous.

The world had changed for him one night with Dean and then it changed again when they left the hospital. It wasn’t his home anymore. Dean was living in a blue building on Sycamore street. They lived there and eventually John would have the apartment underneath.

The cheating girlfriend was moving out and he’d move in. They could decide on a day by day basis where they ate dinner, it would be fun and they’d be a family for the first time in their lives. Sam didn’t feel bad about thinking that. He had always assumed that they were bonded together stronger than most families would have been, but the things that bonded them were fading away. John was going to stop and finally rest his head.

They could forge new bonds while learning to cook, talking about work or school and going to ball games. That was the kind of family Dean wanted and to insure they were going to get there he had to get to one hundred percent and become the person he was before he realized what could have happened.

When Dr. Grosse stepped into the office he apologized for keeping them waiting while he sorted through the stack of papers. He didn’t know who he was meeting with until he sighed and looked up. His glasses were gone, but Sam knew wherever they were they would be a smudged.

“Sam, Dean. What a nice surprise.”

“Hi, Dr. Grosse.” Sam smiled. “No glasses?”

“No, my wife’s been on me about not wearing them if I can’t keep them clean, so I’m trying my contacts again.”

“You look good.”

“Thank you. How’s he doing?”

“Good.” Sam nodded looking over at Dean. “He’s doing real good.”

“Really good,” Dean laughed. “I like you better in contacts, you don’t look quite so geeky. Not that everyone in glasses is a geek, but with the coat and the glasses, it’s a little geeky.”

Sam laughed to himself when he saw the look on the doctor’s face. It was shock because Dean had become a completely different person from the man who had checked himself in and then bled all over the hospital. He was funny and articulate again, just like he was before.

“How did you…”

“He’s good,” Dean told him. “No more drugs. I can still feel them, but it’s getting better. How much longer until they’re completely out of my system?”

“Uh…uh…”The doctor stuttered. “Pro…probably about a…a…week.”

“Take your time.” Dean smiled. “That’s what I do. No one cares if it takes you a little longer to say something.”

“Probably about a week. How are you feeling Dean?”

“I feel okay.” Dean nodded. “Not quite there yet, but I slept all night though last night. I woke up this morning and got a job.”

“You got a job? That’s great.”

“It’s just at the daycare across the street. I’ll be moving some boxes, probably straightening up a little. They said I could read to the kids. I figured it was good to start small.”

“Absolutely.” The doctor smiled. “Your progress is amazing.”

“My brother is amazing.”

“Mine too,” Sam said.

“I spent all weekend worrying about you two. How did you manage to level out so quickly?”

“I have my brother. My dad came in yesterday and we’re just taking it one step at a time. It wasn’t easy, I had to beat the shit out of him, but he was kind of mean to Sammy before he left for school so I don’t feel too bad about it.”

“I see.”

Sam loved the look on his face. He was probably thinking that Dean was an amazing actor who was either faking how bad off he was or currently faking how good he was doing. It didn’t matter what he thought because Sam knew he really was fine. He probably felt a little worse about hitting John then he was letting on, but everyone deserved a beat down every now and then. It kept them in line and he did ruin Dean’s taco night so many years ago.

“I wanted to thank you for helping me so much.”

“I couldn’t help you though. We just prescribed medicine you apparently didn’t need.”

“Dr. Grosse,” Dean said leaning forward. “You’re the only person here who didn’t treat me like a child. You never talked down to me and helped keep me from slipping any further. Some of these people in here need drugs to fall asleep at night and wake up. I just needed someone to talk to until enough time had passed.”

“Time?”

“Oh,” Dean laughed. “You don’t want to know. I’d end up right back in here.”

“I am astounded.”

“I have that effect on people,” Dean said smiling at Sam. “Can you do me a favor?”

“If I can.”

“I want you to keep doing what you’re doing. You’re a good doctor and you were a good friend. The people in here need friends more than they need doctors. Their families have forgotten about them and just swept them under the rug. As long as someone cares they’ll be okay. They might never function like they should, but they’ll have peace of mind.”

“I’m just one man with a hundred patients.”

“Sammy was just one man dealing with a hundred problems. One day at a time.”

“I’m so proud of you Dean.”

“I’m pretty proud of myself doctor.” Dean laughed. “I’ll never fall asleep inside these walls again, but I’d like to come back once a week and just talk to them. Even if they’re not talking back, I want to help, like someone helped me.”

The doctor was proud of him, but Sam had him beat. On Saturday Dean was terrified and just a shell of the person he was and sitting in the doctor’s office with it’s scattered papers and poster of a kitten he inched his way up to at least ninety-nine percent. He was close, closer than he had previously been.

“We’d like that. They’d like that.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Dean.”

Dean sighed and started at his hands for a second. Sam knew what he was going to ask because it seemed like his second reason for returning to Hill Grove was more important than talking to the doctor and letting him know he did a good job. He had to know the truth even if it would be hard.

“What happened to Emily?”

“She committed suicide.”

“How?” Dean asked.

“I don’t think that’s something you…”

“Please, I need to know what happened and if she said anything or left a note, anything.”

Dr. Grosse sighed and dug in his pile of paperwork. Sam had always thought he knew where everything was and he was right. He didn’t even have to search for her folder. It might have been in his stack of losses where he kept all of them, Sam wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure if Dean should know how she did it, but it wasn’t his choice to make.

“She hung herself,” He said as he opened up the folder. “We found her in the morning. She used the bed sheets.”

“Was it quick?”

“I hope so.”

“I do to.”

“She left a note in the bathroom.” He sighed. “I don’t know what it means. We usually keep this stuff for a few years. I don’t know if you’re aware of why she was here.”

“She told me.”

“I shouldn’t be sharing this.”

“Please,” Dean said. “I need to know.”

“It’s a quote from Martin Luther King. “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about the things that matter.” I guess that was for you. This whole note may be for you.”

“Is that all it says?” Dean asked.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, Sammy.”

Dean was crying while he waited to hear what else was in the note. He had loved Emily and the last thing she did was leave a message for him to not be like her. Don’t give up before it’s too late. She wanted him to stay strong and yell as loud as he could about the things that mattered, like Sam always had.

“It says…um… “ You fell in love with the garden and then I fell in love with you. All I wanted out of life was for someone to love me and I’m glad that was you. After you told me I forgot all the bad things and focused on that. I’m taking the easy way out, I want you to stick to the hard road. Emily.””

“She said I told her?”

“That’s what it says.”

“I just nodded though.”

“Maybe,” the doctor said as he closed the folder. “That’s all she needed.”

When Dean looked over Sam nodded too. He had taken the hard road just like Emily wanted him to. It didn’t matter whether or not he nodded or yelled he loved her from the rooftops. Even if he loved Sam more, he still loved Emily and that had comforted her as the pain finally stopped and she left the world with no memory of every bad thing that had ever happened to her.

As they left the hospital Dean decided to follow her lead. He slipped into the drivers seat and focused on the fact that someone loved him and it was strong enough to shatter all the pain of memories that never happened in the first place. He had Sam and John. They were always there for him and he was never alone. There was no darkness anymore, all he saw was light as he drove back to the apartment ready to gain back his missing one percent.

After one more stop that Dean managed all by himself they made it back to the apartment where John had some excellent news. He wasn’t quite sure how he did it, but he got Sam’s laptop up and running and did a little research. He owed Dean a couple of tacos and found the exact same chain just a half hour outside of Palo Alto.

He hadn’t made eggs that morning so he was in charge of dinner and they were going to eat the tacos they never got a chance to have on that one perfect night.

“Dad.”

“Yeah?”

“Before you leave, I wanted to tell you that me and Sam, we’re…”

“Best friends,” John interrupted him. “You’re brothers. You tell me anything else and I’ll know you’re lying.”

“Is that all that matters to you?” Dean asked.

“Anything else is your own business. You’re my sons. One of you never listened to a word I said. One of you might have been crazy for a while.”

Dean laughed at himself while he moved a little closer to Sam. They could still have secrets, but they’d stay in the family, in their family which was suddenly stronger than ever.

“Crazy or disobedient, I love you both and nothing could change that.”

“What if I need help peeing later?”

“I’m getting tacos. Anything you need help with you better ask your brother.”

“Do you need help with anything?” Sam asked.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll be back in an hour,” John laughed.

“We love you dad,” Dean told him.

“We both do.”

“I know.”

Once he was gone, Dean decided he didn’t really need help with anything, but he could pretend to. He could do everything by himself, but sometimes asking for help was the best thing a person could do.

“So, he’ll be gone for about an hour.”

“He sure will, come with me,” Dean said grabbing his hand. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay.”

Sam followed him into the bedroom expecting that Dean was finally ready to become the person he was. The basket of laundry they had done was sitting on the bed in one twisted heap still unfolded. Dean knocked it over and pushed Sam onto the floor with a smile on his face.

“Can you fold those for me?”

“Really?”

“Really,” Dean said walking out of the room.

Sam stayed on the floor and started to fold the clothes wondering why he was doing it at all when they had the apartment to themselves and Dean had stopped at the drugstore on the way home.

He was rolling up socks and placing them in a neat pile when Dean walked back into the room wearing his trademark grin and staring.

“I was crying the first time I walked into the room while you were folding clothes.”

“Oh,” Sam said quietly. “Yeah, you were.”

“I begged you to stay.”

“Yeah.”

“And then what happened?”

“You pulled me up and kissed me.”

Dean walked over and pulled him up. Sam had always been so reliant on that memory of them together for the first time and he got to relive it, most of it at least. It wasn’t frantic anymore. It was calm and slow, just perfect. Sam didn’t want to be perverted and humiliated anymore, he just wanted to be with Dean, who no longer had his rather serious problem.

And for just under an hour they were together. There was no blood or scratching nails. There was nothing except the two of them and then some tacos once they had dressed and John came back home. They were both sitting on the floor folding the clothes together when he walked in with a huge bag nearly overflowing.

“Let’s eat!”

“We’ll be right there, dad.”

“You’re finally getting your tacos,” Sam whispered.

“Unless he starts yelling.”

“I think he’s done yelling.”

“I can’t believe I tried to have sex with him.”

“I don’t think you would have done it.”

“Really?” Dean asked. “I don’t know. I was pretty crazy.”

“Nah,” Sam leaned in and whispered. “Even if you like old cars, you know the newer model always performs better. Less maintenance, less of a headache.”

“Smoother lines,” Dean said looking at the scar on his palm. “You don’t mind the scars?”

“Not at all. They taste just as sweet as the rest of you.”

“You’re crazy,” Dean laughed as he stood up.

“You are.”

“Well, Sammy,” Dean said as he pulled him up. “Entirely your fault.”

“You said it wasn’t. I think you promised.”

“Come on, you made me crazy long before I checked into that hospital.”

“Guilty,” Sam laughed.

“Hey,” John said sticking his head into the room. “Are we eating or what?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “We are.”

“Everything okay?”

Dean walked past him nodding, because that was just as good as a loud vocal yes.