Too Perfect To Be Wrong

"SAMMY!"

Dean's voice ripped through the air with the intensity of desperation, every last shred of the sound reaching for his little brother. The beat of his boots connecting with the ground echoed the rapid, panicked beating of his heart. Where the hell had Sam gone in this rain? What if he was catching a cold right now? Dean shook his head sharply, briefly clearing rain water from his eyes before it dripped down from his hair to blur his vision again. Such thoughts weren't helping the heart attack he was attempting to give himself. Should have taken the damn car...

"Sammy!" Dean screamed again, cursing when all that came back to him was nothing. He stumbled to a stop, wiping water from his eyes for the thousandth time since he'd bolted from the motel room after his brother almost an hour ago.

Goddamned siren!

When the siren asked Dean to cut his little brother, only a tiny part of him truly realized what he was doing. He heard Sam's gasp of pain, saw the blood trickle over the knife and down his throat, causing that part to scream every curse he knew. The siren's spell drifted over him, cloaking the rest of his senses in a drug-like feel of bliss, coaxing at the small bit that had refused to fall under the song. No one hurt his baby brother, damn it! Especially not Dean himself.

"You poisoned him." Sam's voice was low and angry. Dean could feel him shaking, feel the tight grip curled around his hands where he had a hold of the knife. The small part of him yelled at those hands to let go and protect his little brother. The rest of him, however, was calm. This was what the siren wanted. This was okay.

"No, I gave him what he needed," The siren objected. "And it wasn't some bitch in a g-string. It was you. The little brother that looked up to him. That he could trust. And now he loves me."

No I do not! Dean struggled against the spell, against the rest of his mind saying oh yes he did. He loved Sammy, damn it, not this monster!

Sam made a growling sound of protest in his throat and jerked against Dean's arms. Dean wished like hell they would give but they wouldn't.

"He'd do anything for me. And I gotta tell you, Sam, that kind of devotion, watching someone kill for you, is the best feeling in the world." The siren smiled, a wickedly pleased kind of expression.

"Is that why you're slutin' all over town?"

You tell it, Sammy! The conscious part of Dean cheered.

The siren looked amused rather than offended. "I get bored. Like we all do. And I wanna fall in love again. And again. And again."

"I have fought some nasty sons of bitches but you are one needy, pathetic, loser," Sam spat each insult as though he could physically hurl them at the siren's face.

The siren leaned forward slightly, it's eyes suddenly intense. "You won't feel that way in a minute."

The siren's hand snapped out, grabbing Sam by the chin so he couldn't turn away. Sam's eyes widened in alarm when it opened it's mouth and spat the saliva into Sam's own mouth. Immediately, Sam lifted a hand and swiped at his lips, trying to wipe it off but it was too late. Dean saw the drug take effect, saw Sam's eyes cloud over as they lifted to meet the siren's. It reached out suddenly and took Dean's hand, guiding his arms off and away from Sam. The conscious part of Dean sighed with relief; he didn't know why the siren had chosen to do that but at that moment he didn't care, so long as that knife was as far away from Sammy's neck as he could get it.

"Damn it, Sam, I'm gonna kick your ass when I find you," Dean growled as he peered through the rain.

He'd left the last of town behind half an hour ago and seen nothing but flat fields and an old barn and farmhouse that looked as though they hadn't been used in a few years. At this point it was keep going or check the house, which seemed the most logical place for Sam to have hidden. It wouldn't have been the first time the two of them spent the night in an abandoned building.

Turning around, Dean began making his way back towards where he'd seen the barn. He hoped Sam had chosen to go there, if for no other reason then it would mean he wasn't out here in the cold and wet. It wasn't like it was his fault for freaking out and running. Hell, Dean was surprised he was so calm himself, after what the siren had made them do.

The siren began backing away, making a gesture for them to follow. It sat down on the bed again, where it had been when Sam had first come in. "You know," the siren said with an almost thoughtful expression. "It seems like a waste to get rid of you both so soon. Maybe we should have a little fun first."

The conscious part of Dean didn't like the sound of that. He watched his little brother stop just short of the siren, waiting to be told what to do next.

"Sam," the siren said with another one of those smiles that made Dean want to shiver, even though the rest of him was insisting it was a great smile. "I can see what you feel for Dean. Don't you think you should show him before one of you has to die?"

"Yeah," Sam murmured. "You're right."

The siren's smile widened. It turned it's gaze to Dean. "Dean, put the knife down."

Immediately, Dean threw the knife down on the first bed. He hated how calm he felt, especially when Sammy turned towards him, his eyes glazed over with emotions he couldn't identify. Was it the spell, or something more?

"It's okay, Sam," the siren said soothingly. "He won't stop you."

Slowly, Sam walked towards Dean. Dean just stood there, watching him come, feeling helpless and wishing the rest of him didn't like it. It was just the spell, he told himself firmly as Sam suddenly reached out, fingers sliding around to cup the back of his neck. Just the spell...

And then it didn't matter what it was because Sam's lips were touching his own in a gentle, chaste kiss.

Suddenly, Dean didn't care about the spell or the fact that there was a siren sitting three feet away. What he did care about was the fact that it was his little brother kissing him. That the sensation rushing through him wasn't disgust or shock but pure liquid desire, burning into his blood and making him lift his hands to lock them against Sammy's head, holding him there while he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. The conscious part of him was scared shitless by how natural it felt but he couldn't find it in him to stop, spell or no.

When Sam pulled back to breathe Dean reached behind him and knocked the knife from the bed. Then he reached over and grabbed Sammy by the shoulders, throwing him down in the knife's place, the fear at what was happening and the fact that he couldn't stop it making his actions slightly rough. The bright flare of lust in Sam's eyes said he didn't mind in the least. He lay there, staring up at Dean, waiting for him, and Dean lapped up the image as hungrily as his favorite beer. The spell, he thought with sudden desperation as he kneeled down at the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Sammy's leg. It had to be the spell. He adored women, they both did. So it had to be the spell.

Dean watched his hand run slowly up Sam's leg and over his hip, almost brushing the obvious bulge in his jeans. His little brother didn't seem to care what was happening and for the moment, for the pure sake of self preservation, Dean let himself think he didn't care either.

Dean yanked open the door to the house and stepped inside hurriedly, shivering violently as he shut the door behind him. If Sam wasn't here he was definitely going to kick his ass. That rain was cold!

Swiping a hand across his face and through his hair to rid himself of the excess water, Dean began stomping through the old, dusty house, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was here. Almost instantly he heard the sound of someone scrambling to their feet and saw the flickering light of a fire shining from what he assumed was the living room.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled. "Don't move!"

Dean stormed around the corner and promptly lost all the anger he'd managed to build up on his way in.

Sam was standing in front of a fire he'd built in the old, open fireplace, staring dejectedly at his feet, looking so much like a beaten puppy that all Dean wanted to do was cross the room and hug him until he smiled again. Instead he walked over to the fire, collapsed beside it and began pulling off his sopping wet boots.

"Dean?" Sam asked meekly.

"I'm pissed," Dean muttered as he yanked off his other boot and held them upside down until they stopped dripping.

Sam sat down in front of him, still refusing to look up at his brother. "Sorry," he said with a soft sigh. "I just...I thought...the rain seemed safer."

"What did you think I would do, beat you up?" Dean burst out as the anger suddenly rushed back in. "I just spent the last hour in the rain trying to find your dumb ass because I was too occupied to think about taking the car! What the hell were you thinking!"

"I was thinking you'd hate me!" Sam yelled back, finally looking up at his brother.

Instead of answering, Dean pulled off his wet socks, balled them up and threw them at Sam's head. The look of complete shock on his little brother's face made his lips twitch, amusement threatening to overtake the anger.

"I don't hate you," Dean said finally. "We were under a spell."

Sam sighed and picked up the socks, fiddling with them before throwing them down near Dean's boots. "No, Dean. It wasn't just the spell. Not for me."

Dean's hand slipped under Sam's shirt, across the warm, smooth skin of his stomach, tracing the lines of his abs before pushing upwards, taking the shirt with him. When the coat got in his way he pulled back his hand and without any urging Sam sat up so that Dean could push it down and off his shoulders. The shirt went next before Dean reached up to remove his own.

Sam laid back again as soon as his shirt was off. Dean found the complete release of control not just arousing but somehow fitting, as though even in this strange situation Sam was still letting Dean be the 'big brother.'

No! No one was letting anyone do anything! It was the spell!

The distant thoughts didn't stop him from leaning down and placing a kiss on Sammy's chest, roughly in the center. He moved up, bringing his hands in to ghost across Sam's nipples while his mouth found the cut he'd made earlier. Carefully, Dean licked the length of it, cleaning away the blood and somehow apologizing for it at the same time.

"Dean..." Sam's voice sounded distant, almost strained, as though he'd had to force the name past his lips. Dean felt hands slid across his back, pushing down, encouraging, and he understood. This wasn't enough. They had to get closer.

Pushing himself up onto his knees, Dean reached down and began to work at the fly of Sammy's jeans. Just the spell, just the spell, he told himself as he slid them and the boxers down until he got stuck on Sam's shoes. He yanked those off, not even bothering to untie the laces. Then he tore at his own shoes and jeans, desperation abruptly taking a hold of him. He had no idea where it had come from, all he knew was that he had to be touching Sam again NOW.

As soon as he was free Dean stretched himself out over his brother, leaning down to kiss him as his body settled across Sam's. Sam's hands appeared on his shoulders again as their tongues met and dueled. His legs slid upwards, holding Dean against him, lining them up perfectly as Sam rolled his hips upwards, rubbing their erections together. Dean broke the kiss with a sharp hiss of pleasure, grinding his own hips down to meet Sammy's.

They continued that way, pressing against each other frantically, their mouths occasionally meeting before they were forced to tear away from each other to breathe. When Sam came, his head thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open in an ecstatic, breathless smile, Dean had a brief moment where the siren's spell was forgotten. All that existed was Sam's expression as his climax gripped his body, Sam's smell as Dean buried his nose in his little brother's throat when his own orgasm burst through him. Just Sam, in every way.

It was too perfect to be wrong.

"Yeah," Dean muttered suddenly. "I know."

There was a moment of silence as the brothers stared at each other, each trying to think of something to say, to do, if only to alleviate the pressure building in the air between them.

Too perfect to be wrong. That had been Dean's last thought before the siren had made them duke it out over it. He'd wanted so badly to think it was just the spell, that he'd been forced to do what he'd done to his little brother but he knew he couldn't. It had opened the door, maybe, but the feelings they'd felt had been real, too real to ignore.

"How long?" Dean asked finally.

Sam glanced away but not before Dean saw fear in his eyes. The urge to comfort his brother drove him to his feet before he could stop himself. He paused a moment before deciding they'd come this far. There wasn't much he could do to make it worse.

Moving around behind Sammy, Dean sat down and yanked his little brother against his chest before he could protest. Then he just sat there, staring at the fire, unsure what to do now that he had Sam in his arms.

"Dean?"

"Not a word," Dean growled, smiling just slightly when he heard Sam give a weak laugh.

His little brother relaxed, leaning back against Dean's chest. "Since I was a kid," Sam said suddenly. "We were always moving and it was always just the two of us. Even when Dad was there, you were the one who really looked out for me. I never got a chance to see what families were supposed to be like. I honestly didn't know it was wrong until we stayed in that one town for six months, when Dad was hunting lycanthropes. Remember, there were six or seven of them in the same town?"

Dean nodded; he remembered. He'd been twenty then and had tried to convince their Dad that Sam, who had been sixteen, didn't need to be in school anymore. It had been like talking to a brick wall.

"I had a friend there, I used to go over to his house after school. That was the first time I saw how a family is supposed to be." Sam paused. He shifted slightly, then suddenly let his head rest back against Dean's shoulder. "Do you remember when I came back to the motel and I was depressed? You couldn't figure out why."

"Yeah, I remember. I thought some chick had rejected you," Dean answered.

"That was because...Dean, I was going to ask you...I was going to ask you to be my...well..." Dean saw just a hint of pink flush Sam's cheeks.

"Your what?" Dean asked, perfectly oblivious until the pieces fell into place. "Your first!" He blurted.

"Yeah," Sam muttered. "It seemed perfectly natural at the time."

"But...I thought you always liked chicks," Dean said, the confusion in his voice crystal clear.

"I did. I do," Sam answered with a sigh. "It never had anything to do with gender with you, though. With you it was, well...you. You know?"

Strangely enough, he did. "Yeah, I think I do," Dean murmured. "Damn it, Sammy. This is weird."

Sam laughed. "You were expecting something normal?"

Dean shrugged his free shoulder. "Maybe we don't get normal."

"Maybe," Sam echoed. "Are you okay with that?"

"That's what's so weird. I am okay with it," Dean grumbled. He didn't want to be okay with it but it didn't change anything.

"Then let's not worry about it," Sam said, tipping his head back a bit so he could see his brother better. "There's really no point now, is there?"

"Guess not," Dean answered. Then he leaned down and sealed his mouth over Sam's, shaken again by how perfect it felt.

"You know," Dean said as he pulled back. "You have some making up to do. I'm soaking wet here and it's your fault."

"How is it my fault you forgot the car?"

"What? No!" Dean reached up and clocked his brother lightly on the back of the head. "You're supposed to say something suggestive."

"I'm not a chick," Sam said as he sat up and shoved hard on Dean's chest, sending him sprawling back onto the floor. He was grinning despite his words. "You might catch cold, though. Better get those off so they can dry."

"That counts as suggestive," Dean teased as Sam leaned down over him.

"Shut up," Sam answered before he dipped his head for another kiss.

END