Blood Is Thicker...

The door slammed shut, jarring Dean out of a drifting sleep in the chair. He blinked and looked up at Sammy and since he was still half out of it, the thought of what he'd done didn't register. Which meant Sam would think things were as usual. "Hey, Dean," he said, without looking at him. Sam headed toward the bathroom and Dean looked around with a frown, then as he glanced up, he knew it hadn't been a dream. No, they were really going to do this and the duffel sitting on the table grabbed his attention. Dean jumped up and grabbed the salt from inside and when he heard Sammy turn on the shower, he wasted no time in salting the door and all the windows twice. With the curtains hiding it behind them, the salt in the doorway was a little more noticeable. Dean could explain that one easily, he was just looking out for anything that might try to get in while they were sleeping. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie, he should have done it before. Putting the salt back in the bag, he sat back down at the table and opened Sam's laptop, trying to distract himself with something other than porn for once until his brother returned. If he started looking at that, he'd get too distracted and lose time so he'd claim it was research or something.

Sam emerged from the hotel bathroom in sweats with a towel draped over his shoulder and Dean felt those eyes on him. "What are you doing?" Sam asked, tossing the towel over the back of the empty chair. Dean didn't dare look up. His brother would somehow see straight through him. "Just looking something up," he answered with a casual shrug. "Another job?" Sam continued and bent, digging in his duffel for a t-shirt, slipped it on. "Maybe," Dean replied, emerald eyes hooked on the screen. "Well, just don't freeze it up on some stupid porn site like before," Sam shot back and sat on the foot of the bed. Dean's heart banged hard against his ribcage. "Wouldn't dream of it, Sammy," he quipped with a softer tone and a strangled smile fell from his face.

Those eyes shot over to Dean, blue-green and furious when he tried to walk away from the bed...and was stopped cold by some unseen force. "What the hell, Dean?!" Sam shouted and Dean closed the laptop, scooted his chair back and got up. He wandered over as if he'd done this a thousand times. But he was careful to stand just out of Sammy's reach. "You left me no choice here, Sammy," he replied quietly and as he moved toward the headboard, Sam was following him. "What the hell are you talking about? What are you doing?!" Dean exhaled a broken sigh and glanced up, then he gauged his little brother's reaction. Sam Winchester was now caught in the Devil's Trap. "Dean..." The voice was a low, menacing whisper. Sam's face was drawn, the skin taut over chiseled facial bone structure. The rage of anger and fear written clearly in those piercing depths. "What have you done to me?" Sam hissed and Dean stepped back when his brother advanced on him. "It's not what I've done to you, Sam, it's what you're doing to yourself!" Dean shouted in return, his voice carrying out through the door and windows. He stood unsteady and breathless, the sound of his heart nearly drowning out his own voice. "It didn't have to come to this," he said and watched Sam tilt his head. "You put me here," Dean added, his voice having softened once again.

"Don't do this, I'm your brother," Sam pleaded and Dean turned aside, watching the taller man from his side vision. Not the puppy dog eyes. Sam wasn't Sam anymore, not really, but he still had that affect on his older brother. He knew that Sammy was stronger than him, had been for some time now. Quickly, Dean reached down and grasped the iron shackle, then leaned up quickly toward Sam as if he might sucker punch him. Sam darted back and that was all the distraction Dean needed to clamp it down. One down, one to go. "Damn you," Sam snarled and those eyes flashed that raging fury at him again. "Already been done, Sammy. Or did you forget that already?" Dean leapt up on the bed and rushed across it and by the time Sam came after him with both arms extended, hands reaching for his throat, he was distracted enough with his anger at his brother that the second shackle slipped easily into place. Dean smiled. He patted Sam's cheek and turned away when his brother spit at him, narrowly missing his face. The pictures came down and when Sam saw them, he screamed in pitiful fury.

This isn't Sam, this isn't Sammy, he's not your little brother. There's more demon in there than even he's willing to admit. It's an addiction, that's all it is. And you are the only one who can break him out of its clutches. The only one who can save him.

Dean stood at the foot of the bed as Sam flopped down on the side, tugging at the iron chains, first one and then the other. Dean wasn't worried this time, he knew it would work and Sam was not going anywhere. "Why?" Sam muttered, yanking at the chain holding his left wrist. Fierce eyes turned on Dean, his body breathless. "I told you why, Sammy. What, I gotta spell it out for you?" Shaggy, dark hair fell over one eye as Sam lowered his head, glaring at his older brother. "You're getting sloppy, dude. You're letting someone else's judgement cloud your own." Sam stared angrily at Dean as he paced just out of his reach. If he could have gotten his hands on his throat, there would be a great deal of enjoyment in watching him squirm. Begging for his life just before Sam would give in and let up. "Ruby? Seriously, little brother," Dean gave his brother a quirky frown. "You can do a whole lot better than that." Sam snarled, a flash of white teeth contrasting against the flushed, dark pink skin of his face. "I hate you."

Good thing his back was to him right then. Dean winced, his hand stilled after he reached into the duffel bag. "Ouch, Sammy," he returned, his voice pure sarcasm. His heart, purely breaking. He set the piece of paper aside, the one with all those Latin words on it. There was no way in hell Sam would get his eyes on that thing, his kid brother was smart enough to figure a way out of it. He could hear him now, the chains banging and clinking together against the headboard behind him, struggling and he growled furiously. "Don't...don't you dare take this away from me, Dean! I'm doing this for you, for us!" Dean turned around, his body straight and his attitude cocky as hell. "Good intentions, right, Sam?" Right now, he couldn't afford one chink in that armor. It would give away his weakness to Sam. The sight of him there laid out on that bed, struggling hard enough to break a sweat against something Dean had done, it was breaking him apart inside. But he couldn't show it, he wouldn't.

Sam was scared. No, that wasn't right. He was beyond terrified! Dean could see that and he knew why. Chained up here, caught in the Devil's Trap, he couldn't get what he wanted, what he thought he needed. It was all in his head, that's what Dean thought. All in Sammy's screwed up head and the sooner he broke him of this monster, the sooner they could get down to real business. You know, like saving the whole world? "I got something big coming up, man," Dean said in a quieter tone, not wanting Sam to know his anger was gradually getting the better of his big brother. "I mean, this is huge, Sam," he continued and casually wandered closer, ignoring how Sam thrashed against the restraints. "And, I don't know, you know, this whole Apocalypse thing..." Dean paused, staring down silently into those bright, furious blue-green eyes that stared back up at him. "I kinda need my little pain in the ass brother with me." He eyed Sam warily when he suddenly stilled, all but the quick rise and fall of his chest. Those eyes, they were just staring so hard into him that Dean wondered if Sam could bore holes right through his heart, killing him instantly, if he tried really hard.

"I killed Alastair. For you," came Sam's harsh and biting tone. He watched Dean's emerald eyes widen and Sam felt hope welling up inside of him. "That's right, big brother," he continued and spat the words in sarcasm. Dean blinked. Sam did that? How? It wasn't possible. "That's not possible, Sam, you're making it up," Dean countered and Sam laughed, a dry and hollow sound. "I'm getting stronger and you know it. That's why you don't want me to do this, because then I'll be stronger than even you." Dean straightened, the invisible shield he'd been wearing started to fade. Sam fought dirty and he knew it. "That's not true, you said it yourself. It was just the siren talking." Another empty laugh filled the room. "And you actually believed that?" Sam scoffed, his eyes narrowed. "Dude, I can kill demons. With my bare hands and not even touch them, not even flinch." Dean felt his insides trembling. He didn't know this, had no idea that his brother was being swallowed up by his demon blood this fast. Too fast, even for Dean. "Now...you let me go and I can help you. We can beat this, we're on the same side," Sam went on, his anger subsiding enough so that he was believeable. "Who better to fight these things than me? Think about it." Sam leaned up, his expression dark and Dean realized then by looking into his little brother's eyes that he wasn't talking to that same kid anymore. He was talking to the darker side of Sam Winchester. It was enough to mend that opening hole in the armor and weld it back shut. "You need me, Dean," Sam said quietly and Dean nodded, watching his brother smile. "You're right," Dean agreed with a heavy breath exhaled as he sat in the chair. "You're right, Sam, I do need you." Sam's smile widened. He was home free.

"But not like this."

Sam's enraged scream made Dean wince visibly.