Song of Ruin

The lifeless body sat, tied to the chair in the middle of the warehouse. There was no use in even trying to revive the girl. She had a deep knife wound to her side and blood trickled from her mouth onto the dirty floor.

Dean squatted down and started to untie the rope.

"C'mon, Sam. Give me a break. I'm not Superman."

Sam was standing further away from the girl, reluctant to step forward. It had known. It had known everything and had no qualms about opening its mouth and sharing with the whole world.

Of course, Dean was pretending like he hadn't heard anything. Like he hadn't heard the demon talk about Sam and his "pastimes." Like he couldn't hear the demon taunting him about Hell and his approaching trip.

Sam shook himself from his thoughts and saw that Dean was staring holes through him.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry."

Sam started at the other wrist, and eventually the boys got the girl out of the chair, out the door, and into a hole in the ground. No one would find her.

The walk back to the Impala was silent, the only noise the crunching of the dead leaves beneath boots. Until…

"Damn, Sammy. I can hear your gears grinding all the way over here." Dean looked over at his little brother, smirking.

Despite all that had happened in the last year, Dean's acting skills never faulted. It was almost like the hotel room and the scars never happened.

And Sam was perfectly fine with that. It was awkward enough the first few days; he didn't want to deal with that all the time.

Sam reached the passenger side door without a word, while Dean walked around to the other side.

"Fine, then." Dean shook his head and slid onto the bench seat, stroking the dashboard out of habit.

He was right, though. Sam's brain was going a mile a minute. The eminence of Dean's approaching death (it was only a few months now), and how it was virtually Sam's fault that his brother was going to Hell – It all bore down on him so hard.

"Let's just go back to the room, Dean." Sam leaned his head against the window and watched his breath fog up the glass as Dean drove them back to the motel.

He could feel his brother watching him brood. And it definitely was not helping the situation.

"Don't be getting all emo on me now, Sammy. I've only got a few months left and I'm not spending them with you all teary-eyed and emotional."

A sharp laugh erupted from Sam's mouth.

"Nice, Dean. Way to go." Sam shook his head, sarcasm dripping from his mouth as he stared at his brother across the car. He turned back to the dark outside the window.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the motel's orange neon sign was in sight. Dean parked the car and turned the car off. He looked over at Sam, who was just sitting there, staring out the window, fogging up the window.

Dean rolled his eyes and got out of the Impala, grabbing his bag, and heading inside. Sam would follow eventually.

Sam watched as his brother coolly walked into the room, not even glancing his way. He had learned to expect that, though. Ever since Dean sold his soul for Sam and they had that fight… or whatever it was, Dean didn't really share much anymore.

"You were dead, Sammy. What the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"Leave me that way maybe? How could you even think that was okay to do?"

"Because it's you, Sam. Because of you." Dean's voice cracked. He sat in the chair by the desk and put his head in his hands.

Sam's wide eyes just stared at him. He shook his head and turned, trying to find his jacket.

"What are you doing?" Dean was looking at Sam now, eyes wondering.

"Out. I'm going out." Sam looked at Dean when he said this. Maybe he would get the point.

Dean just continued staring at him with a blank look, then light flickered behind his eyes. He stood and almost jumped on Sam, but held himself back to a slow walk before he took action.

"No… You're not. You promised. You fucking promised, Sam."

Sam shrugged and walked toward the door when a strong hand gripped his arm. He turned and knocked the arm away and glared at its owner.

"I'm leaving, Dean. I'll be back tomorrow." Sam placed his hand on the doorknob and turned. 'Finally,' he thought. 'I can do this.' It had been too long and Sam could feel it in his bones.

His shoe made a loud thunk on the concrete outside the door, then the hand was on his arm again, this time turning his around completely.

"Sammy, please. Not with someone you don't know. They could hurt you. I just got you back. Please." Dean's eyes were pleading along with his voice.

Sam couldn't feel anything. There was no pain, sadness, pity; nothing.

His smile wasn't happy as he glared at Dean.

"You offering, bro?"

Dean dropped his hand from Sam's arm and recoiled, face disgusted.

A mean chuckle escaped from Sam's mouth as he walked the rest of the way out the door and to sidewalk.

Yeah. Sam could see where Dean wouldn't want to talk to him. That had only been a few days ago, and Sam could still feel the bruises on his neck from greedy, uncaring hands.

Sam fumbled out of the car, realizing that he was exhausted from the days of hunting that stupid demon. He grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up. Even though the motel rooms allowed smoking, he knew Dean hated it. And even though he wasn't that fond of Dean at the moment, he still didn't want to piss him off.

The rasp of the lighter was loud in the almost empty parking lot. Sam took a drag from the Pall Mall and held it in as long as he could. After only a few seconds, he exhaled, blowing smoke into the night air.

A door opened to his left, but he ignored it and kept up his habit; inhale, hold, exhale.

A hand appeared from nowhere and grabbed the cigarette from his hand, turning it around and thrusting it into the back of his hand.

"Fuck! What the he-?" Sam's head whipped around to see Dean standing there with the lit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger.

Dean was breathing heavily, hardly believing that he was out here doing this.

"You offering, bro?"

If it kept Sam away from murderous freaks, yeah, he was. He kept trying to tell himself that that was the reason, but there was something in the back of his mind that told him he was wrong. The hard length at his hips told him he was probably wrong, too.

That realization almost made Dean back away and run, but the moan coming from Sam's open, panting mouth made him think twice about splitting.

Wow. So his little brother really did like this kind of kinky shit.

Dean had no clue how Sam could stand the feel of a cigarette being put out on his skin. From the few times Dean had ever been burned, he knew it wasn't pleasant. But everyone's got their own drum, and Sam's just beat way off the path of normal.

"Dean… Please."

Sam's voice cut off his concentration. The deep, throaty moans following his plea went straight to Dean's dick. Which was not normal. This was just supposed to be for Sam. Dean wasn't supposed to like it. Fuck!

Dean tossed the cigarette onto the asphalt and grabbed Sam by the arm, pulling him into the motel room.

"Don't want to wake the neighbors, Sam."

He could see his brother's face better in the light. It was slack and looked totally fucked out. And Dean hadn't even done anything yet. Jesus…

A fast glance over Sam let Dean see that his hand was bleeding and that its owner sure didn't mind. That look was still plastered over Sammy's face.

It vanished when Dean tossed him into the wall next to them. Sam made an oomph noise, his eyes widening in fear.

But that was part of the game, right? Sam completely trusted Dean; with everything. But he also knew what his brother was capable of, and what if things turned bad? That was the thrill.

Sam whimpered when Dean drew closer and shoved a knee between his legs. He could feel that Dean wasn't exactly unhappy to be in his current position.

"Dean. Oh… God. You don't have to… Please." Sam couldn't get his words out fast enough. He knew his brother probably did not want to have to do this. He was going to wake up tomorrow morning and bolt. As much as Sam wanted this, he had no desire to see Dean walk out that door.

He stopped worrying about it when Dean grabbed his crotch with his left hand and his jaw with his right. The pain and pleasure mixed together and Sam forgot everything around him but Dean.

"Of course I have to, Sammy. Wouldn't want you hanging around the wrong people." Dean's grip tightened and Sam moaned, sending vibrations up Dean's arm. He tried to hold in a moan, himself.

"Dean, please." Sam closed his eyes and whined, trying to hold onto Dean's shoulders.

Dean smirked and grabbed Sam's shirt. Sam found himself being thrown onto the bed, face first. A heavy weight laid itself across his back and it smelled like Dean's aftershave. Sam moaned again, but was cut off with a fist to his ribs.

"Don't try and touch me, Sam. I swear to God, if you do…"

Sam could feel Dean's breath on his ear, followed by teeth grinding onto his earlobe.

A throaty growl leaked out of Sam's throat as he nodded.

"Good, Sammy."

The warm body was gone and Sam looked, searching for his brother. His eyes found Dean digging through his duffel bag on the other bed. He was pulling something out of it, but Sam couldn't really see what it was. An impatient whine aimed at Dean sounded out of Sam's mouth.

Dean turned toward his brother, hand behind his back. His eyes found Sam's and he almost came in jeans.

God, Sam was so into this. He was just waiting there for Dean to cut him up and fuck him. And Dean wanted to do it. As much as it hurt him to admit it, this was doing it for him; completely and without mercy.

Another not-so-kind smirk flashed over Dean's face.

"Close your eyes, Sammy."

A rush of fear shot through Sam's veins, but he closed his eyes and yearned for Dean touch him again.

Sam had never though that Dean would follow through. Since the night of the fight, Sam had been thinking of the possibilities. What if Dean topped him, and hurt him? Thinking about it made him rock hard in seconds. But he never thought that Dean would actually do it.

But here they were. Sam on his stomach, and Dean coming to him with the sole purpose of making him bleed.

Dean walked toward his brother and lifted a leg, straddling his oh-so-tempting ass.

Sam heard a fast slicing sound and then cold air was breezing across his back.

Holy shit. Dean had a knife. Sam almost shot in his pants, right then. But he wanted to hold out for his brother, who was obviously having a good time, too. If the hardness pressing into Sam's ass had anything to say about it.

Warm lips and tongue made their way up Sam's back; teeth nipping at scars every time they crossed a rough line.

Sam was visibly shaking and Dean had a moment to feel bad, but that went away when he threaded his fingers through his brother's hair and jerked up.

Sam groaned into the air. He felt Dean's grip loosen and teeth at his throat. But there was something else at his throat. It was cold and sharp. His brain was going so slow with pleasure.

He soon realized what it was when a sharpness bit into his skin. Just a small nick, but it was enough.

"Dean. God…please. Fuck… Fuckfuckfuck… Dean."

The teeth were gone from his throat and the knife was somewhere out of sight. Dean hand wasn't in his hair anymore. Then Sam felt where they had traveled.

Dean was fumbling with the button on his jeans. It just wouldn't cooperate with his shaking fingers. God, Dean needed it so bad. And Sam was just laying there, ready to let him do whatever to him.

Dean finally let the moan he had been holding in, out.

"Pants off… Now." Dean slapped a hand across Sam's ass before he went back to freeing his dick from its prison.

Sam lifted his hips up, pushing his ass into Dean's crotch. He cried out as he reached down, fumbling with his own button and zipper. Finally, he got them undone, but he couldn't push the jeans over his hips.

"Dean… Fuck. Help…"

Dean laughed; a sultry, slow laugh.

"Poor Sammy. Wants to get fucked so bad and he can't even get his pants off."

Sam whined and tried once more to push his pants over his hips and erection. It wasn't working. But he didn't have to worry because Dean was jerking the fabric down to bare his ass to the air.

And to the bare skin of Dean. His brother's cock lay across his ass.

"Jesus, Dean. Please, fuck me." His voice was smothered by the pillow in his face, but he knew Dean had heard him from the way he twitched above him.

"Fuck. Sam, okay. Hold on." Dean leaned forward and opened the drawer of the nightstand.

Sam watched his brother's hand pull out a bottle of lube from the drawer. Before thinking, he reached forward and grabbed Dean's hand.

"No." Apparently Dean had forgotten his "no touchy" rule because he just stayed there. His hand in Sam's grip and the echo of his brother's one word.

Dean just stared at the back of Sam's head with wide eyes. He wrenched his wrist from Sam's grip and growled.

"What do you mean, no? You want me to fuck you, don't you?" He popped the cap open on the bottle and opened his hand.

Sam turned his head to look at Dean as best he could.

"No. Don't use… Fuck." He really didn't want to explain to Dean that he didn't want him to use lube; that he wanted Dean to hurt him. "Put that away. I don't want you to use it."

Silence. Not even breath. Sam had almost given up when he heard a cracking inhale.

"Sammy… I can't do that. That's… That's so wrong. I don't want to hurt you." Dean couldn't believe how broken his brother was. How could anyone want to get cut up and burned and hurt like this?

Was Dean… almost crying? What the fuck? Sam just turned his neck more to see Dean's broken expression.

"Fuck, Dean. Do it! Don't you get it? I like it. Just do it!"

Dean didn't move. He just sat there, debating in his head. On one hand, he was horny as hell and this was really turning him on. But he just didn't want to think about the shit going on right now; how much of a failure he was in the big brother department.

Sam let out a sigh and started wiggling around to get out from under Dean. He knew it was over. Dean had started thinking and he finally realized what he was doing.

Sam ended up on his back, staring up at Dean, who had emptied his hands of everything and was holding Sam's wrists down on the bed.

"You're not fucking going anywhere. I'm not done yet." The dark glimmer in Dean's eyes made Sam clench his fists and moan. He could feel his brother's erection pulsing against his own.

Dean lifted one hand off of Sam's wrists and traveled down Sam's body, tweaking a nipple on its way.

Sam's eyes shot open in ecstasy as he felt two fingers push at his opening. He relaxed for two seconds and then immediately tensed as the digits pushed in and explored Sam, opening him as much as they could.

Sam cried out and grabbed his dick with his now-free hand. He squeezed the base, trying to hold back on the orgasm that pooling at the base of his spine.

Dean's fingers were gone and gripping onto Sam's wrist once more.

"Don't touch yourself." Dean closed his eyes and inhaled slow and deep. "My job."

He skimmed his hand down Sam's chest again, throwing Sam's leg over his shoulder before placing his hand on his own cock. He led it to his brother's opening; so tight. He inhaled, really wishing that Sam was right and he was going to like this. If he hurt Sam for real, he didn't even know what the fuck he would do to himself.

"Okay, Sammy. Fuck…" He pushed into Sam, who threw his head back and fucking howled. Dean pulled back, but not out, and watched his brother's face. Pain was nowhere in his expression. It was all pleasure.

And that drove Dean to the edge.

He pushed into Sam's tight ass, holding Sam's wrists hard enough to bruise. He vaguely remembered a burn on Sam's hand that was probably stinging like a bitch, but the thought was quickly forgotten as he found as much a rhythm he was going to get.

So tight. It felt amazing.

Sam had his eyes shut and was chewing on his bottom lip, whimpering. Dean could feel him trying to push against his restricting hands. Despite the pleasure coursing through his body making him weak, Dean kept his hold on Sam.

Sam cried out one last time before he came all over his own chest. He stopped resisting against Dean's grip and just lay there, panting. Dean was still pumping into him, but he could feel that he was close.

Dean lost it as Sam pushed his hips up to meet Dean's thrusts. He fell over on Sam, still thrusting into him as his orgasm slowed. His hands slid down Sam's arms as he tried to find support to roll of his brother.

Dean's eyes shot open and he tensed as Sam's free arms wrapped around him in a soothing hug.

"Dean…"

Dean shot off of Sam and stood next to the bed, staring at his brother.

"Fuck… Umm…" Dean was freaking. Had he really just fucked his brother? And fucking burned him with a cigarette? He looked over Sam, trying to take in everything. When he saw the blood soaking into the sheets at Sam's neck and ass, he broke.

Sam sat up and tried to call to Dean as he ran into the bathroom. Fuck. He knew this was going to happen. Dean was freaking out and he was going to leave Sam alone.

Holding back tears, Sam stood and walked to the bathroom. He hurt like a sonofabitch, but he was proud of it. He secretly hoped it wouldn't stop hurting. Especially since it was Dean. But he knew that in a few days, the evidence that this had ever happened would be gone and so would Dean.

Sam knocked softly on the bathroom door, unsure if his brother could hear him. He had turned on the shower, but Sam wasn't so sure that Dean was actually showering.

Dean wasn't. He was sitting on the toilet lid, head in his hands. He heard the knock and tried his hardest not to yell at it.

"What?" Dean managed a loud bark instead of the yell that would surely set him off, trashing shit around the room.

"Dean." Of course. Sam wanted to come in and fucking show Dean what he had done to him. How he had hurt him. "Can I come in?"

Dean stifled a sob and stood up. He threw open the door and glared at his naked brother, standing there with fucking pity all over his face.

"Everything's fine, Dean." Sam stepped forward and Dean cringed against his touch. He back toward the shower, staring holes into Sam.

He straightened up and clenched his fists at his side.

"How the fuck is everything fine? I hurt you, Sammy." He dropped his gaze to the crappy tile on the floor and tried to stop his body from shaking.

Arms were around Dean. He tensed, but then just fell into them.

"Dean. I swear it's okay. You didn't hurt me, alright? Everything really is fine." Sam could still feel Dean's body shaking with sobs. "Let's get a shower, 'kay?"

Dean was silent, except for the quiet sobs still coming from his mouth. Sam opened the shower curtain and led his brother under the spray.

Sam cleaned himself up, and then Dean. By the end of the shower, Dean just stared at him with empty eyes.

Dean walked into the bedroom and sighed when he saw that Sam had covered his bed with a comforter. He didn't have to look at it, didn't have to remember the blood.

He shivered and just turned to his own bed. It looked so warm and safe. Sam was still at his back, leading him from spot to spot. Maybe it really was okay. Sam didn't seem hurt. He seemed… happy. Dean tried to analyze Sam's expression. He hadn't seen a smile like that on his face since Dean found out what Sam was doing. It was nice to see. Dean's lips lifted a bit, causing Sam's smile to widen.

He felt a hand at his back, pushing him onto the bed. Dean was suddenly exhausted. He gratefully climbed under the clean sheets and closed his eyes. He wasn't shocked when Sam's warm body slid in behind him, spooning him.

Dean reached his arm behind him and laid a hand on Sam's hip.

"I didn't hurt you, right? You're telling me the truth? I don't wan-" He was interrupted by Sam's hand on his, and his brother's lips at his ear, whispering.

"No, Dean. I'm fine. Just go to sleep and stop thinking so hard." Sam started tracing circles on the back of Dean's hand. "That's my job."

Dean sighed, still a little worried, but he knew that Sam was right. He was thinking too much. He could freak out some more in the morning.

Dean had a feeling he wouldn't be, though.

A/N: End of the series. Thanks for those who are reading.