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Dark Miracle

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(1 week ago, December 11)

Walking down the streets of one of the most crowded cities in America and he still felt alone. Alone and depressed, though Sam mused that when one was dying, they weren't likely to be the happiest people on earth. Stopping before the tall building, Sam craned his neck looking up and up at it, a small smile pulling at his lips. Well, he might be alone, his family all dead and gone, no one to share his last days with, his last moments on this earth, no one to tell him that they loved him or that he would be missed, but at least he would get to do all those things he had always wanted to, dreamed of, but had never gotten the chance. Taking a deep breath, the cold crisp air filling his lungs, Sam shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and stepped inside the front door of the Empire State Building.


* * *

[10 years ago]


Dean had never before met this guy, John Winchester, that his dad talked about so much. But now that he finished school and his dad was taking him on longer hunts, he finally got to meet the guy. Just another bad ass hunter, that's what he thought of this John Winchester. But his son? To Dean, the kid looked totally out of place. Oh, he knew his stuff, but the minute his ass wasn't getting ordered around by the elder Winchester, he had his nose in a book.

He grabbed the last large bag off the back of his own dad's truck, and headed into the small cabin that all four of them were going to share until they trapped whatever it was that was killing animals and making people disappear. Pulling the door open, he dumped the bag down near the door and headed for the kitchen, aware that a pair of hazel eyes were following him.

Sam stood with his back plastered against the far wall, his book laying open in one hand as he chewed the nails of his other. Hazel eyes darted across the page, soaking up every word. That is, until Daniel Colt's son walked into the cabin. Sam's gaze darted away from the printed page and up to the boy who walked in, his eyes following Dean to the kitchen. Dean Colt, he reminded Sam a little of his dad, he was really into this hunting stuff too. Well, he was like the rest of them, cept him, Sam had bigger dreams. He would hunt, do as was expected of him, but it didn't stop him from dreaming of something better, something 'normal'.

As Dean turned, Sam quickly tore his gaze away, returning his attention to the book before him, though he no longer saw the words on the page. Glancing up at Dean from under his long bangs, Sam wished he could be like that. Like Dean, like their dads, then maybe this desire for other things would go away, maybe he could be happy with this life he had been dealt.

"You want a coke?" Dean asked, having grabbed one for himself. "Or is that...Shasta... yours?" Now those other sodas in the ice box kinda made sense, he smirked at the thought it sounded like a girly drink.

Sam raised his head, lips pressed together, his gaze darting from Dean to the open bottle on the counter. Pulling away from the wall, he nodded as he walked over to it. "Um, yeah, it's mine," he offered a small tight smile as he mumbled, "thanks," reaching to grab the bottle.


"So, you're," he frowned, "really into this stuff, huh?" Sam asked, his unease at asking the question obvious in his voice.

"Yeah. Family business. My mom... was." He looked away for a moment. It had been more than a year and he still sometimes forgot she wasn't with them anymore. Realizing he was squeezing the hell out of the bottle in his hand, he forced himself to loose his hold. "You? Not so much?" he asked, looking back at Sam. Yeah, the guy looked too... Dean didn't know, maybe he just didn't look rugged enough for what they were all neck deep in. But he'd seen him work with his father, and knew that he might be thin and wiry, but he was also strong, and knew how to handle a gun.

Sam shrugged, "More my dad's thing. My mom..." he hung his head, chewing his lip for a second before he pulled his head up, offering a soft smile, "yeah, so," he cleared his throat, "it's expected. Like some revenge thing or something I guess." He sighed, glancing down at the book in his hands then back at Dean. "So, do you like to read?" Sam asked, his face lighting up. "Some day, maybe," he gave a one shouldered shrug, "I wanna go see all these places I've read about. Do all these things that other people have done. I think it would be so cool," he told Dean, starting to get really excited about it as he put the book down on the counter showing him parts of it that had held his interest most.

Flipping to see the cover, Dean raised a brow. "Travel book?" He'd already criss-crossed the states so many times that traveling didn't really get him all excited, but the the light in Sam's eyes made made him pretend just a little. "Where would you go, that you haven't been?"

Sam looked at Dean and blinked as if Dean had just asked him the oddest question in the world. "Well, I've been a lot of places, but I haven't seen anything, like ever! I mean, look at this, look how much there is to do in Virginia other than chase ghosts! And here, in Washington, a heck of a lot more than hunting a wendigo! And over here, the mountains. I could," he shrugged a shoulder, "I dunno ski maybe." Sam grinned wide as he flipped past a few more pages to New York, "And here," he tapped the book, "there are more museums than you could ever possibly see in like," he shook his head, "a YEAR!" Sam's eyes were alight with excitement as he looked at Dean. "And there's..." he paused, searching Dean's face, his smile slowly falling. "Oh, sorry. I -" he licked his lips, "yeah, I'm a freak, don't - don't listen to me." Flipping the book closed, he added. "I didn't mean to bore you. Sorry, man."


"Not bored... not saying you're not a freak... but not bored," Dean answered, giving him an easy grin to let him know he was kidding. "I know what you mean. Just last year we drove through the Mojavi dessert... this close," he pinched his index finger and thumb together, "... this close to Vegas. Dude... the things you can see there. Paris, Monaco... New York..." he gestured with his hand. "Bet there are museums there... and ah.., other interesting things... now I'm boring you," he faltered. That hardly ever happened.

Sam slowly raised his head, a shy smile on his face making his dimples show as he shook his head. "No, not boring me," he smiled a bit wider. "See? It would just be so cool," he sighed, his smile slowly falling away as his gaze flickered toward the door, then back to Dean. Sam shrugged a shoulder. "But, it's just a dream. Not gonna happen."

Dean ran his hand through his hair, and looked at Sam. "Maybe not now, but one day you'll go on hunts alone, right? You can damn well bet if I'm going past Vegas, I'm stopping." He looked at the door too, then at his watch. "I"m fucking starving. Wanna go get some food?" He had no idea when their dads would get back.

Sam smiled and nodded. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe one day, when he was on his own, he could take a day and go through a museum if he ever had the chance to get to New York, or go to Mount Rushmore and just look if he was ever there. Maybe. "Yeah, food sounds good."


(5 Days Later)


After they'd set up camp, their dads had gone to talk to a couple other hunters also camping nearby. It was fucking cold and Dean missed the warmth of the cabin, or at least the car. He added wood to the fire then went back and dragged his sleeping bag closer, right next to a tree. "Hey, you wanna bring yours over," he motioned to the tree.


Sam looked over from his spot, curled half into a ball inside his sleeping bag. Nodding, he unwound his body, climbing out of the warmth of the coverings, quickly dragging the bundle over next to the tree beside Dean. He climbed back into the warmth of the sleeping bag, shivering with cold.

There was a circle of salt all around them, which meant they were stuck... by orders of their dads... really stuck here. Dean went to get some drinks, but instead of reaching for the soda, he grabbed two bottles of beer and brought them back. He held one out to Sam, holding his breath as their gazes clashed. Looking straight into Sam's eyes always made him feel slightly dizzy, like he was looking down from some high place or something. There was also the rise in his pulse, and he knew what that meant but he wasn't going to fucking believe it.

Having watched Dean walk over to the cooler from under his long bangs, Sam's lips curved into a shy smile as Dean turned back around, his heart thundering in his chest as Dean looked at him. Dean always seemed to make Sam feel nervous, not in a bad way, in an exciting way that had his pulse racing and he just knew he kept blushing often, though he couldn't seem to help it.

Taking the beer from Dean, Sam's smile widened. "Beer?" he chuckled, "Our dads are gonna kill us." he said, even as he twisted off the cap, taking a drink, his gaze still fixed on Dean. Pulling the bottle down and away from his lips, Sam licked them, his gaze falling to Dean's own full lips.

Dean settled down next to him, but sat back against the tree. "Mine's alright with it. I'll cover for you." He forced himself to meet Sam's gaze. "Not your first time, right?"

Sam tore his gaze from Dean's lips, nearly dropping the bottle. "What?" he asked, voice squeaking, eyes wide before he could cover. Clearing his throat he tried again, brows furrowed in confusion. "I mean, uh, what?"

"Beer," Dean grinned. "What did you think?" He took a couple of swigs of the beer, hoping it would calm him down a little, even though he knew he was doing a pretty good job of appearing calm.

Sam swallowed, "Uh, nothing," he glanced down at the beer, "Yeah, sure, I've had beer." Sam lied, clearing his throat, looking back up at Dean, "You?" He nearly rolled his eyes at himself. Way to go, moron.

Dean's only answer was to guzzle a little more. "I'm good at hustling pool... gotta be able to hold your beer for that." Big talk, really he'd never had more than one or two back to back. He leaned his head back against the tree, dragging a blanket up his body. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Sam looked cold.

Licking his lips, Dean pulled the blanket off himself and threw it over Sam. As he pulled it up, his hand brushed over Sam's chest. He gave a sharp intake of his breath, eyes meeting Sam's as he dropped it like he'd been burned. "It's... freezing," he sat back, looked away. He wished the feelings he'd been feeling would go away. Like right now, his mouth was burning... burning because he wondered what it would be like to kiss a guy... this guy. Licking his lips, he looked down at the ground.

When Dean threw his blanket over him, Sam figured it was due to his laying there in his sleeping back shivering like an idiot. His gaze followed Dean's hand as he slid the blanket over him, his own eyes widening as Dean hissed n a breath. If Dean had still been touching his chest, he was sure he'd feel his heart hammering out of control. Swallowing, Sam tore his gaze away. "Mm, yeah, it is." he agreed. It was freezing. Maybe that was all it was, Dean had hissed cause he felt how friggin' cold he was, like a giant popcicle.

Biting his lip, Sam slowly looked back over at Dean, "You could, uh, I dunno, come here and we can, you know, they say that it's warmer if two people share..." he let his words trail off pressing his lips together. He sounded like a complete moron.

Dean looked over at his own sleeping bag, then back at Sam, his heart hammering. "Okay," he nodded, pulling off his boots but leaving his thick warm socks on. He finished his beer, trying to coax his heart into stopping that racket, telling himself all he wanted was a little body heat. But when he crawled over and Sam let him inside, when he felt their legs press together, he found himself leaning over Sam, his gaze clinging to his lips. "I..."

Sam self consciously licked his lips, his gaze darting from Dean's face to his own lips and back, a slow blush stealing over his features. "I - uh," he pulled his bottom lip in between straight white teeth, "better?" he asked softly.

His eyes clung to the movement of Sam's mouth, had his stomach clenching up in knots. He brought his face closer, inches separating their lips. "Yeah... better. Sam?" Since the boy hadn't pushed him away yet, Dean dared to sweep his mouth across Sam's.

Sam's breaths gasped softly, body jerking slightly, though he tried not to show it, tried to be 'cool' about it, like Dean was being. But his heart was banging so hard in his chest, he was certain Dean could hear it.

It was like electric heat... some sort of force, holding him in place. Dean swallowed, eyes meeting Sam's even as he started to slant his mouth across the boy's.

Sam stared at Dean as he leaned in, eyes quickly closing as his lips parted, waiting. Waiting for the feel of Dean's lips against his, lips that he had found himself staring at a lot this past week, staring and wondering... And now, he was finally gonna know.

This time Dean slid his mouth back and forth across Sam's, taking shallow breaths, moving slowly, cautiously... nervous as hell. Soft... Sam's lips were soft, and they were parted. He ran his tongue across the opening, then pushed inside his mouth. A soft moan broke from him as heady sensations caused all sorts of needs to build inside him. Pressing his lips more firmly against Sam's, he started to kiss him, his tongue tangling with Sam's, his body vibrating with excitement.

Sam's hands bit into the material of the sleeping bag as Dean kissed him, his breaths coming a little faster, heart hammering out a crazy rhythm in his chest. Dean's lips were as soft as he had thought they would be, and he tasted good, felt good. Sensations swam through Sam making him nearly light headed, one hand slowly releasing the material of the sleeping back under him to reach up, circle a little around Dean's back, his hand still bound in a tight fist. It was exciting and scary as hell, thrilling,more thrilling than any hunt he'd ever been on. A soft low moan tumbled from Sam's lips, the sound of it scaring him into opening his eyes, hoping Dean hadn't heard. Snapping his eyes closed again, Sam concentrated on kissing him, giving as good as he got, working his mouth and tongue.

The sound Sam made had Dean going hard. Hell, it wasn't the sound... he'd been hard from the moment he'd felt his body heat seeping through his clothes, the instant their thighs touched. Slowly, he rolled on top of Sam, still kissing him, loving how Sam was holding him close, his hand moving over his back. He shifted a little more than he intended found his erection pressing into Sam's hip. Lifting his head in shock, he looked into startled hazel eyes. "I..."


Sam gazed up at Dean, eyes wide with surprise and maybe a bit too much excitement. He suddenly didn't know what to say, couldn't seem to move, so he just stared. Stared up at Dean like an idiot, tongue darting out to lick his lips, though he wasn't even sure he was breathing.

The sound of heavy boots crunching leaves and twigs had Dean scrambling out of the sleeping bag, and jumping into his own. He turned his head to the fire, taking in deep breaths, missing the feel of Sam's body, but afraid ... so afraid of what he would see in the boy's eyes the next time he looked into them.

As Dean moved fast at the sound of footsteps, Sam knew he was breathing, because his breaths were coming too fast, his heart hammering hard in his chest, eyes wide, lips parted his gaze darting from Dean's retreating form to their approaching dads.

Scooting farther down in the sleeping bag, he missed the feel, the press of Dean's body, his warmth. It was suddenly a hell of a lot colder than it had been before. Sam closed his eyes, squeezed them tight, lips parted as he sucked in air, his heart still beating wildly.

John stepped over the salt line and put his rifle down. "Son, you alright?" he asked gruffly as he crouched down next to Sam.

Sam forced himself to open his eyes and look at his dad, forced his head to move so that he could nod. "Uh-huh..." it was the most intelligent thing he could get out at the moment.

John eyed his son, "You look a little flushed," he held his hand to Sam's forehead, "I don't think you have a fever. Don't be gettin' sick on me." John told him with a sigh as he pulled to his full height.

Sam shook his head, "Uh-uh." Sam snapped his eyes closed mentally rolling them at himself. Oh Geeze!


* * *

(Present - 10 years later, December 17)


Dressed in a dark suit, Dean walked up the steps and into the Metropolitan Museum Of Art. The lobby echoed with the sounds of heels and voices, people walking in and out and gathering near the information desks. There were signs that indicated the area of the museum where a fundraiser was being held. Women in long gowns, and men in tuxes were headed that way. So was Dean, he wanted a little champagne in his blood and knew champagne would be free flowing at the party.

The vampire felt the gnawing in his belly, that terrible need for blood. He could control it, he could curb it, he could take less than would kill, but it was always there... as was his fear that someday he'd slip up. Ironic, wasn't it? His mother died fighting a vampire, and now he... a former hunter, was one.

He was walking past the crowd, those who didn't appear to be going to the fund raiser when a scent hit him. Hard. Familiar. It took him back to when he was a kid. Back to when he'd kissed that kid, Sam Winchester. He remembered it like it was today. Remembered how awkward the next three days had been. They'd never been alone again, never met each others' eyes, never acknowledged what happened.

Years after, he hadn't forgotten. Sam Winchester had been the first male he'd ever kissed, but he hadn't been the last. There had been a few others over the years, especially after his transformation. Always dark haired and long limbed, always with green eyes and the faint scent of the outdoors. Always... the knock-offs failed to shine as brightly as the original.

Even now, he knew the scent was a lie. An old memory and someone who had a similar scent. It wasn't even worth the effort of turning his head to look into the crowd, but as always... he did, and he went stock still, seeing a tall man, dark brown hair, showing only a quarter or his face as he was looking toward the party goers.

Sam had been in the museum all day, looking at every single display that he had ever heard about and wanted to be certain to see, then going back and starting over again at ones he knew nothing about. He probably looked like some stupid tourist, but he didn't care, not now, not anymore. It was the 17th after all, and he had only been given roughly two weeks to live, that had been a week ago. Christmas, some 'feeling' down deep in his gut told him that this would not only be the last Christmas he ever saw, it would also be the day that he died.


A friendly smile pulling at his lips, he nodded to people passing as he turned around, watching party goers head in for some event. Sam huffed a breath, he remembered going to things like that... on a hunt, with a fake name, fake ID, fake position. All of that now burned to ashes, just like his hopes for a future. Biting his lip he hung his head, remembering the last time he had talked about a future, about seeing the world. He had been a fresh faced teen and he had been at some cabin in the middle of Nowhere, USA with his dad and the Colts, Daniel and Dean. A blush stole over his features, remembering the kiss that he and Dean had shared that night as they lay nearly freezing, outside in sleeping bags.

He'd never seen Dean again after that week, never even heard about him from anyone. Sam frowned thoughtfully as he lifted his head. Probably just as well, after all, he had been a geeky teen and Dean was... well, he had been something special.

No human eye caught his quick movement but Dean stopped across the lobby, now having a clear view of the man's face. Yes, it was Sam, he was sure of it. Same strong jaw, same easy smile... dimples, eyes that held such depth they made Dean dizzy. He might not have a working heart, but in his mind, Dean could hear it pounding against his chest, urging him forward, urging him to talk to Sam.

Ten years older, a lot wiser, he hoped. If he'd feared revulsion in the boy's eyes because of not only the kiss, but the proof of his arousal, now he had a more realistic fear. Hunters and vampires did not mix. Still, he stared at him, wondering what might have happened if he'd had the courage to face up to that kiss... if he'd kept in contact.

Tearing his gaze from the party goers, Sam headed in the opposite direction, going to the Byzantine Art Exhibit in the next room. His gaze roaming over tapestries and paintings as he slowly walked, bottom lip held between straight white teeth.


He absently wondered if Dean had ever gotten to go to Vegas like he had talked about. A sad smile on his face as he stopped before a painting, Sam thought about that. He hoped that something, some hunt had taken Dean out there, so that he could see the things he had dreamed of too. This, seeing the things he had always dreamt of, it was the only half way good thing about his condition. Inoperable brain tumor. Sam huffed softly, who would have known? With a sigh, he tried to clear his head of his racing thoughts and enjoy the rest of his day, not linger on what if's, who knews, and dreams. Dreams were for the living, not those condemned to death.

Dean pushed off his hunger for a little while longer and stalked Sam, following him to the exhibit room, walking after him, stopping... watching. His eyes were alert, alive, he could see the joy that art gave to Sam, but there was an underlying sadness there too. He didn't know if he was imagining it. He took a few more steps, stood right behind him and breathed in his scent.

He should disappear. Did he really want more irony in his life or unlife? With his luck, the youth... now a man... that he dreamt of for a decade would be the one to hunt him... to drive the stake through his heart. No, he'd know better, he'd decapitate him. Or worse... acting on his self preservation instincts, Dean might kill him.

Dean was teetering on a decision when Sam started to turn toward him and took away his choice. "You made it. To New York," Dean said quietly, looking at the tapestry, not at Sam.

Sam took a step backward, a frown on his face as he looked at the man next to him. "I-" His eyes widened as he realized who was standing there next to him as if Sam's thoughts had conjured him out of thin air. "Wow..." Sam blinked at Dean a couple of times, before shaking himself out of his stupor. "Uh, yeah," he held out his hand for Dean to shake. "Yeah, I did," he stammered, a smile slowly splitting his face. "What - what brings you here? Are you here on a..." his brows furrowed as he looked at Dean, something about him was different, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Even the thought of it had his head starting to ache again. "...a hunt?" he finally finished.

Releasing Sam's hand and trying to appear casual, Dean looked down at his suit and then back up. "You'd think. No, I'm not 'in the business' anymore. You? What is there to hunt in New York, or... you doing the sight seeing thing, after all?" As he spoke, Dean kept assessing the changes. Sam was taller, certainly not gangly, he appeared buff... much more broad chested and muscular than Dean would have expected. One thing was the same though, he was still a little... nervous. Maybe it was the reminder. Bet Sam didn't like to think back on what happened.

Sam smiled, though it was a sad smile. Quickly covering it, he furrowed his brows, lips pressed together as his gaze slid past Dean to the displays behind him before he looked back into jade eyes, eyes that he could remember far too well gazing down at him as they lay in a sleeping bag. "Um, yeah," Sam said after a pause, forcing his thoughts away from things that had started and stopped that same night, that would never, could never be. "I'm not," he shook his head, hanging it for a second before pulling it up, "not in the business anymore either." He swallowed, tried to smile, but was nearly sure it had come out as a grimace instead. Sam licked his lips as his gaze traveled over Dean, coming to rest finally again on his face, "You look," he nodded, "healthy." Why was it, when you were dying people stopped looking 'good' and instead began looking 'healthy'?

"Healthy." Dean flashed a wry smile. Sure, he was dead and healthy, it was a good one.

Clearing his throat Sam gave a nod, pressing his lips together. "Well, I -" he smiled, this time for real, "it was really nice to see you again, Dean." He gave an embarrassed chuckle, "I was actually just thinking about you," he told him, shaking his head. "Too bad that trick doesn't work on everything, huh?" I could think that I'm healthy too. He frowned slightly as he looked at Dean. "Did you - did you ever get out to Vegas?" he shook his head, "Stupid question, I know. I just," his brows furrowed, voice softening along with the look in his eyes, "I just never forgot that."

For a moment, Dean thought he was getting the old 'shove off,' but Sam surprised him with his question, and even more by admitting he'd been thinking about him. "Yeah, I got to Vegas," he nodded. And every fucking time he'd been there, he'd thought about Sam. "So," he licked his lips. "Interested in grabbing a beer later?" He needed to feed, if it were anything else, nothing could have forced him away, even if Sam had blown him off, he'd simply have to shadow him.


Sam opened his mouth to answer only to snap it closed again. In his mind he could see himself sitting on an exam table in one of those damn hospital gowns, his doctor writing prescription after prescription for him. "You are not to drink any alcohol with these, Sam. Also no grapefruit, no high calcium, no -" "Pretty much I just need to die already, right?" he had cut in, stopping his doctors long list of what he couldn't have as he'd taken the scripts. He was dying, goddammit, what the hell would a beer hurt? Sam gave a nod, "Um, yeah, sure. Won't kill me, right?" he asked with a tight smile.

"No, but if I remember right, it could get you into trouble," Dean grinned, bringing out the big white elephant and searching Sam's face.


Sam pressed his lips together, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he gave a nod, a slow blush creeping over his features as he licked his lips. "Mm, yeah well. It wasn't trouble," he bit his lip as hazel eyes searched jade, "not really." Sam told him.

"Really?" Dean couldn't believe him, but he wanted to. "Alright, where are you staying?" Once Sam gave him his address, he grinned. "That's just a block from 'Harry's Bar. Meet you there at 9? Gotta get out of this," he said, pulling on his suit jacket.

Sam smiled and gave a nod, "Alright, sounds good. I'll - I'll see you then."

* * *

Sam sat at a booth in the back of 'Harry's bar', one facing the door. Some old habits died hard, he supposed. He sat fidgeting with the glass of water sitting in front of him, glancing at the door, then his watch. 8:58, Dean would be there soon. With a sigh, Sam reached into the pocket of his hoodie and took out the pill bottle, popping the cap, he dumped two pills out into his hand, lifting it he popped them into his mouth. Closing the bottle's lid, he shoved it back into his pocket before reaching for the glass in front of him, taking a long drink of the water to wash the capsules down.

Frowning, Dean cocked his head as he watched the ex hunter. He'd been in the bar earlier and had hidden in the shadows, wanting to be sure he wasn't walking into an ambush or anything. Old habits died hard, and he had a real reason to worry about hunters these days. He waited until Sam gave the empty glass back to the waitress, the walked up to him.

Sliding into the booth across from Sam, he gave him a nod. "Running into someone you know in the middle of New York gives new meaning to 'small world.'"

Sam smiled up at Dean, watching as he took his seat. He licked his lips, nodding to Dean's statement. "Yeah," he gave a small chuckle, "I never would have thought," he pressed his lips together a small frown creasing his brow before he bit his lip. "Yeah, it's great to see you," he corrected almost shyly as he rubbed his hands slowly together nervously, his gaze dropping to the table.


Waving at the cocktail waitress, Dean ordered a beer, looked at Sam and at his nod, made it two. He should have asked how he liked New York, or some other neutral question, but what came out of his mouth was the question burning in his mind since the moment he'd first seen him. "So you quit... Wife? Kids? It's usually the reason." His gaze didn't waver, and he noticed the nervous movements.

Sam bit his lip, drumming his fingers on the table, his brow creased at Dean's words. Wife? Kids? HA! It was almost laughable. Almost. Finally Sam pulled his gaze up from the table's surface to look at Dean as he shook his head. "Nah, nothing like that. It - it's just me," he gave a nod, lips pressed together. He frowned a little as he dug at a scratch on the table surface with a short nail. "Dad died a few years back," he gave a one shouldered shrug, "maybe you heard." he said, glancing up at Dean.

Dean gave a nod, news like that traveled. He did make an effort to keep up with the news, even if he wasn't really a member of the community.


Sighing, Sam sat back, pulling his arms off the table top as he did. "Let's talk about something better than me and what I've been doing," he shook his head a small sad frown pulling at his lips, "it's not a very interesting story." he nodded at Dean, "So, what about you? You were," his lips quirked slightly, "were always kinda into the whole hunting thing, what made you quit? You, uh, you get married?"

"Nah, who would have me?" Dean leaned back as the drinks were set on the table, and a bowl of pretzels. There was a silence, he knew Sam was waiting on his story. "I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. I'd rather not," he said with a shrug, then lifted his bottle. "I was going to toast to 'simpler days' but... they weren't so simple, were they?"

Sam smirked softly at Dean's words. "Kill me, huh?" he shook his head, but didn't say anything. Sam pressed his lips together thoughtfully as he lifted his own bottle. "How about, to being kids again?" Sam asked, a shy smile pulling at his lips, though sadness shone in his eyes.

"How about wasted opportunities?" Dean answered, "Sometimes, they're the same thing. We should have talked. Afterwards, I mean." Saying nothing more, but watching Sam as he took a sip, he knew something was wrong. Very wrong, and it wasn't just in their past, and it wasn't just what Dean had become. Something was broken in Sam.

Sam gave a small smile, "It would have been nice to keep in touch, but," he sighed before taking another drink. Slowly he pulled the bottle from his lips, eying it before his gaze returned to Dean's face. "I haven't had one of these in a long time now." He shook his head, "But, as I was saying, could have's and should have's, I can't worry about those." Dragging his gaze away and looking around the bar, he softly mumbled mostly under his breath, "not anymore.".


Looking back over at Dean he gave a nod. "So, you never really said what you were here for. Do you live here now or are you just passing through?"

"I move around. Been here a while, not sure I like it. Millions of people and you're still... alone, you know?" A group of rowdy people walked in and it reminded Dean when he had been like that. He'd gone through big changes, but what he wanted to know was what type of change had hit Sam.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, quietly.

Sam's eyes widened as he looked at Dean. ...the Hell? How did he...? No, he didn't know. Couldn't know.

Dean leaned in, locking gazes. "Don't... don't look away, don't tell me it's none of my fucking business, and don't lie. Just... tell me."


Sam clenched his jaw as he stared back at Dean, eyes slowly narrowing as one hand reached down into his pocket. He pulled out a twenty as he slid from the booth, tossing the bill onto the table. "I don't have to tell you anything," Sam mumbled, pulling to his feet, heading for the door. Some things were no one else's fuckin' business but your own. They were things that you didn't want to share, because even though you knew they were real, hearing them said out loud, well, that made them even more real. And it was his problem, he wasn't going to get Dean involved, nor did he want his pity. It was better this way. If he just kept on walking. He'd never expected to see Dean again and he'd gotten to, it was... more than a dying man could have hoped for.

Stonily, Dean watched him leave. Just for the moment. Even if he hadn't given him his approximate address, he could have found him, followed his scent. Lifting the bottle, he drained it. Too bad the liquor wouldn't do anything to him anymore, not in this quantity.

* * *

Just after midnight, Dean stepped off the elevator, carrying a bottle of Shasta. As he walked the long hallway, he could hear people in their apartments, snoring,watching television, arguing... When he came to a stop in front of one of the doors, he stopped listening to all the din and focused on the single heart beat coming from inside. He could also hear the t.v., a grin spreading over his face as he notice there was channel surfing happening.

Lifting his hand, he gave a firm knock and leaned against the door frame.

Sam glanced up from frowning at the television, unable to find anything that would make him stop thinking about Dean. It had been nice to see him, too nice. Made him hope and dream of things that just couldn't be. With a sigh, Sam tossed the remote onto the couch and pulled to his feet.

Walking over to the door, he unlocked the many locks on it, not that he cared anymore, after all, he was dying, what was some one going to do, speed it up? Pulling the door open, Sam stuck his head out, eyes widening as he saw Dean, leaning there against the door frame. "What-?" he pressed his lips together frowning. "Did you follow me?"

"Obviously." He raised the bottle. "Peace offering. It's your... drink of choice... ten years ago," he gave a half shrug and his most charming smile, the one that helped him get away with saying things to women without getting slapped.

Sam sighed, his gaze going to the Shasta in Dean's hand, then back to his face as he reached for the soda and took a step back, opening the door farther. "Thanks," Sam mumbled. He didn't drink them anymore. Yet another thing his doctor told him he couldn't have.

Sam watched Dean walk in, his gaze darting about his place feeling a little self conscious about the fact that it looked a bit too... Christmasy, but it was going to be his last one, so he wanted it to be.... special. He'd planned to go to Rockafeller Center to look at the huge tree there one night too... just stand there and stare at it, maybe burn the image into his brain. If he was lucky it would burn in on top of the damn egg sized tumor.

Dean took everything in, from the tree, to the pillows and red blanket on the couch, the plate and a couple days worth of mugs on the coffee table, to the fake fireplace that had been decorated. "Huh." He turned, "you're like the bachelor who eats and sleeps on the couch crossed with Martha Stewart. Nice place, especially for New York."

Sam bit his lip, hurrying over to pull the pillow and blanket off the couch, "Um, yeah, sorry, uh, sit down if you want. I was just taking a nap earlier." He shook his head, frowning as he turned, unsure that his lie was any better than the truth that he had taken to sleeping on the couch instead of the bed. He hurried down the short hallway, tossing the blanket and pillow onto his bed and closed the door, detouring into the kitchen to put the soda in the fridge before walking back out.

It was the sofa or the hard chair. Dean dropped down onto the sofa, and obviously made room for Sam. He sat with his jean clad legs open, one elbow leaning on his thigh as he looked up. "About earlier, at the bar. Sorry about that." Under the light, he could see the strain in Sam's face. His heart beat was a little erratic, but sounded normal. His color... well, he was paler than when he'd been a kid, but Dean had no idea how much sun the guy saw. Anyway, not like he could talk about paleness.

"Yeah, it's, uh, it's okay." Sam told him, his gaze flickering between the couch and the chair a moment before deciding on the chair and walking over to it. Taking a seat, Sam bit his lip as he looked at Dean. "So, did you," he licked his lips, "I mean, was there another reason you followed me? Or, just so you could say your sorry?"

He hadn't taken Sam for a 'cut to the chase' kind of guy. Dean nodded, "yeah, there's another reason." He ran both hands down his thighs, then deliberately stopped himself. It was fucking ridiculous to be this nervous. Wasn't like he'd never been turned down. It happened, once every couple years, at least how he told the story.

"I've gotten a lot of things wrong in my life. A lot." His mom's death... his fault. He looked down at his shoes. "There's a lot... I can't change." Licking his lips, Dean looked back up. "But one thing, I can. At that camp, that night... you and me. Afterwards, I was a coward, I ran from it... but I never could really run from it. I never forgot. Never stopped thinking... what if then... or a couple years later... what if I went after you, told you."

Sam tore his gaze from Dean's, looking down at the floor a sad frown twisting his features as tears stung his eyes. No, he wasn't going to cry about this, wasn't going to shed another tear over the fact that he was dying. He'd done enough of that after he had gotten home from the hospital. "I-" Sam took a deep breath, pulling to his feet, the room spinning. "I can't do this," he told Dean quickly, staggering forward toward his bedroom. "If - if you could see yourself out. I - I don't - I need to go lay down for a while."

Right after Sam told him he couldn't 'do this,' Dean got up and was prepared to walk out but, now he followed quickly, grabbing his arm when he looked like he was going to lean or fall against the wall. "Sam. Look at me Sam."

Sam staggered to a halt, hand outstretched toward the wall, expecting any moment to topple over like he usually did when the room spun and he didn't lay down fast enough. His eyes were a bit glazed as he looked at Dean, blinking, trying to clear them.

He put his other hand out, touching the side of Sam's face, listening again for his heart. Then he listened to the sound of his blood rushing through his system. Even though he had fed, he felt the sharp pull of hunger. Biting down on his lips, Dean listened more carefully, then moved his hand to Sam's temple... slightly back from that point. The rushing sound slowed there, it was abnormal. "Something's wrong in you brain. What is it? Blood clot... no... tumor?" he asked, not realizing his fingers were biting into the man's arm.

Sam blinked at him, "Huh, uh, no. I'm - I'm fine. Just - just tired. I have," he licked his lips and groaned in pain as the headache started, bringing his hand up to his head, holding it.

"Tired my ass." Lifting Sam up in a fireman's carry, he walked down the hall and turned into the only bedroom. Setting him down on the bed, he grabbed the blanket and spread it over him, memories washing into his mind. He put his hand on Sam's forehead, brushing his hair back. "Rest. I promise... I won't molest you."

Sam frowned, features distorted in pain as he turned his head. "Not - not worried about it. I just - I can't," he held his head in his hands. Pulling one hand away, he pointed toward the bathroom, "pills. I have pills in the medicine cabinet."

In a matter of seconds, Dean was out of the room, and back with a bottle of medication and a glass of water. He opened the bottle and held it over Sam's palm, "how many?" he asked, shaking one out and holding the glass with his other hand.

Sam shrugged, "Uh, doesn't matter. Maybe three I think should do it," he answered, reaching for them and the water as he slowly moved to sit up.

As soon as Sam swallowed them and was done with the water, Dean took it and set the glass down. "You need anything right now, other than rest?" he asked. How had he missed it, all the signs, the little comments, the lack of that spark... the spark of life. He was resigned, he'd given up. Dean might not know him well, but he could see it, and it fucking hurt.

Sam gave a small shake of his head as he laid back down. "Just - stay? Please?" He knew he had no right to ask, wasn't even sure why he was, but he knew he didn't want Dean to leave, not like this.

"Wasn't going anywhere, I just didn't want you to think... Yeah, lay down," Dean helped him back down. "I'll be here when you wake. Hell, I might even have breakfast for you." He squelched the you for breakfast jokes.

Sam gave a small half-hearted chuckle. "Breakfast? Hah. Um, if I sleep that long. You," he licked his lips, his eyes closed, "you don't have to sleep on the couch. Here," he took a breath, blowing it out slow, "here is fine."

"As fine as it was back..." he nodded, "sleep," then walked to the window to look outside. Who knew the cards fate would fucking deal the two of them. Hunters didn't die like this... ravaged by disease. They didn't die and become vampires, or if they did... they offed themselves. He looked over his shoulder, and saw that Sam's eyes had fluttered closed.

Dean could see Sam perfectly, but he'd never turned on the lights, not to get the pills, not for anything. Mistakes like this got you killed, it was why you stayed away from hunters. Sam might be dying, but if he hadn't been in pain, if he hadn't been dizzy, he'd have noticed his speed, and other things, he'd have started to put two and two together.

* * *


Sam woke to the smell of breakfast; eggs, sausage, maybe potatoes cooking, just as Dean had promised. Slowly pulling up to sitting, he swung his legs off the bed, sleepily staggering into the bathroom to do his business. A little later, he made his way out and down the hall, yawning. "You're really still here," he remarked, as he walked into the kitchen, his eyes on Dean. "I -" he ran a hand through his hair, tearing his gaze away, "I never noticed you getting into bed, I guess -" he glanced toward the living room. Was the couch okay?"

"Fine." Dean threw back his head and laughed. "You still have fucked-up morning hair, nice to know some things don't change."

Sam frowned, running his hand back through his hair again, "Yeah, well, you-" his gaze roamed over Dean, seeing not a wrinkle, not a hair out of place. "Get up too early and doll yourself," Sam finished, unable to make the same kind of quip. "What time is it, anyway?" he glanced toward the living room, his alarm clock that he had plugged in near the couch.

Looking back at Dean he bit his lip, "You really could have - I mean, I wasn't a very good host, I didn't even get you a blanket." He swallowed and tore his gaze away, turning to open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. "It would have been alright, I was out of it anyway," he mumbled, taking a side step to the counter. Reaching up to the cabinet, he took out a large pill bottle and popped the cap. Sam frowned as he got out his morning pills, "You said something to me last night," he looked over at Dean, "you said I had a brain tumor. How -" he shook his head, "what made you say that?"

If he'd gotten in Sam's bed, he was damned sure it would be 'Campsite Fun, Part 2' and he was also pretty sure it wasn't what Sam wanted. Turning, Dean went to get the eggs, bacon and toast he'd made when he heard Sam wake up. He brought the single plate to the kitchen table, as well as two mugs of coffee, then sat down. "I've been around," he shrugged. "It was a guess, based on some of the things you said earlier, at the museum and bar... I knew something was up. I could see you got dizzy. Now eat up, it's not every day I cook, you know?"

Sam frowned, as he slid into the chair at the table. "What did I say?" He couldn't remember saying anything, at least not loud enough where Dean would have ever been able to hear him. Sam picked up his fork, his gaze still on Dean as he shook his head,brows furrowed, "No, I don't think I ever said anything that would lead you to believe I had a brain tumor and people get dizzy from other things, things a lot less severe than..."he cleared his throat and looked down at his plate, "than that." He wasn't gonna say 'than inoperable brain tumors'. If he said it, it would be too real and then he might start blubbering and crying again.

Dragging his gaze away, Dean found that Sam's emotions still beat at him, made him want to rail at fate, the way he'd railed when he'd been turned. "I also thought it might be a blood clot, I didn't see any reaction from you when I said it. I would have kept guessing until you reacted." He picked up the mug, then looked back at Sam. "Eat, then we're going to go out and do one of those... seriously bookish things that are on your list." He'd been a list maker as a boy, it just made sense to Dean, why Sam was here, why he'd been at the Met. "If you don't mind the company."

Sam smiled a little as he picked at his food. He shook his head, glancing up. "No, I don't mind." He cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away. "Dean," he said, his voice soft, small. "I - I can't," he sighed forcing himself to look up at the other man, the man he had thought about for years. "It's not that I don't," he frowned, "wouldn't want what you were talking about last night." He pressed his lips together, "I just can't do that, not now, it's," he licked his lips, "it's not fair to you. I can - we can hang out, when you want to, while you're in town, until Christmas. After that," he shook his head. "I can't see you anymore after Christmas." He shoved food into his mouth so he wouldn't blabber on or start bawling like he was a little kid and not a man.

Dean's eyes stung, but he forced back the tears. They'd be blood red now... another tell. "Maybe... maybe you could put me on your... list." He let that hang between them and got up, freshening up his coffee, his back to Sam, shoulders tense, afraid he was going to scare Sam... cause right now, he just wanted to pull a man he hadn't seen in ten fucking years, and had known for only for the blink of an eye, into his arms, and to hold him, and fucking protect him from everything. From life.

Sam's chewing slowed as he looked up at Dean, reached for his mug and washed it down. "My list," he licked his lips, "it's all stuff I wanna do before Christmas, so yeah I guess you are on it." He blushed and bit his lip, tearing his gaze away from Dean's back. "Uh, I mean, you know. Seeing you and all."

Dean looked into the mug for a long moment, then turned. "Doing me, or seeing me?" he asked, bluntly. "I'm good either way, not leaving."

Sam sputtered, his fork dropping from his nerveless fingers before he could catch it, the clatter seeming to echo in his ears as he stared wide eyed at Dean. Clearing his throat, Sam tore his gaze away. "Wow, that was... direct," he mumbled softly, "I - I can't be in a relationship, Dean. I just can't," he took a deep breath, "and I've never been too big on the one night stand deal, so -" he bit his lip staring at the bright red and green table cloth, "I guess that's our answer," he said softly, feeling suddenly more numb than he had after he'd realized this was it, that soon his life would be over.

"I've never been big on relationships, I'm more of a one night stand man." He waited for Sam to change his mind, then walked back and sat down. "Fine. So what are we seeing today? I know... the statue of liberty. No wait, that's not bookish. You pick," he forced a smile.

"I'm sorry," he told Dean softly, his heart aching. If only he weren't dying, he might have said yes. He'd always wondered, always thought about what might have happened if their fathers hadn't come back when they did, and now, when it seemed he had his chance, the truth was, he really didn't. "Um, actually tonight I wanted to see the tree," he shrugged a shoulder, "lame, I know, but I won't be here next Christmas, so I won't get to see it then."

Dean thought he heard regret in Sam's voice, but didn't really understand why Sam couldn't take him up on what he offered. "You don't know that. No one knows when they're going to die, and Sam... You're not dead. We have the whole day to do something, time enough to come back, rest and go out again."

Sam frowned, tearing his gaze away, his hands moving to cradle the mug between them, rolling it slightly back and forth. "Some people know." He gave a small. "Yeah, all day," he frowned, "Well, I -" he smirked, "I know it's stupid, but I kinda was planning at some point to go to Central Park. Did you - I mean, if it's not too lame for you, would you want to go with me?"

"The park, the zoo... can even take one of those carriage rides if you're feeling like Cinderella," he half mocked.

Sam shook his head as he pulled from his seat, reaching for his plate, "Mm, Cinderella had a happy ending," he remarked, turning and walking into the kitchen, "and she got the guy," he added from the sink. "No, I'm not Cinderella. Maybe more like Snow White," he offered, "the original version," he added as he headed down the hall toward the bedroo. He didn't figure Dean knew that in the little known original, Snow White died. "I'll be out in a bit, just need to get a quick shower," Sam called as he gathered his clothes.

Dean drummed his fingers on the table. She could have been saved in the original version too, if they'd known about the simple antidote to the poison used by the queen. Just like he could 'cure' Sam, by killing him. But what self respecting hunter would choose to be a vampire? Sam wouldn't even bend his principles when it came to a one night stand.

* * *

Sam walked out twenty minutes later, freshly showered and fully dressed in jeans, a long sleeve pullover and boots. "I guess I'm ready. Are you sure you wanna do this," Sam asked as he walked over to the door, grabbing his coat off the hook, "I mean, if so, then cool. I just don't want you to think you have to. I'm a big boy, whether I'm sick or not, I can take care of myself."

Walking up to him, Dean looked him up and down. "Big... definitely big. Big godamn Sasquatch, if you ask me." Grinning, he avoided the punch he knew was coming and headed for the elevator.

Sam followed after Dean, chuckling softly, a wide smile on his face, making his dimples show as he shrugged on his jacket, closing and locking his door behind them. "Sasquatch, huh? Yeah, well, just remember you said that come lunch time and I order half the menu," he answered they walked to the elevator. Standing inside of it next to Dean, Sam stole a glance over at him. "Thank you," he said with a nod, tearing his gaze away to look up at the numbers that glowed counting slowly down.

Dean gave a sharp lift of his chin to acknowledge he'd heard.


* * *

It was supposed to be Sam's day, but Dean wondered. He hadn't had a good time like this in forever. Maybe until he spent time with Sam, he hadn't realized how lonely he really was. He saw a lot of people, went places, met people at bars and clubs and sports events, but he was never 'with' them. This was different, spending a lot of time with one person, hanging out, seeing their point of view on shit. Hell, Sam even had him excited about going to another art museum. Sure, he'd promised him ancient porn, but still... it was the company that was the draw.

The park. Wasn't that for old people and kids? Well he felt like a damned kid, strolling around, listening to Sam give him the history of the place, including some salacious tid bits that Dean wasn't sure weren't made up and thrown in to keep his interest, but whatever. Watching Sam eat 'the world's BEST hot dog' and lick his fingers free of ketchup had been fascinating in more ways than one way. Dean had leaned in, almost licked the ketchup off Sam's lip, then pulled away. Well he couldn't fucking help it. The color red did something to him these days.

At least Sam hadn't been angry. He'd just given a shy smile and asked about the zoo. It turned out their ideas about walking around a zoo were very different. Dean wanted to march through, but Sam... he lingered in front of every damned pond, cage and habitat. Sometimes Dean forgot Sam was dying, but other times... the sharp pain in his gut reminded him. More than once, it was on the tip of Dean's tongue to broach an offer to turn him, but fear that Sam would either toss him out of his life right here and now, or would try to kill him, had him biting down on the words.

They reached the exit, and it was late in the day. It was clear Sam had been growing tired because he'd had a couple of those dizzy spells, and they'd had to keep stopping.

"So..." Dean bumped his shoulder into Sam's to get his attention. "How about one of those carriage rides home?" He could easily have carried Sam, could have gotten him back faster than Sam could recite the things they'd seen. "Just... not the one with the fairy lights... please?" Two of the carriages that would take you to the edge of the park were a solid color, but there was a fru fru one that was decorated.

Sam chuckled, his smile wide as he looked over at Dean. Clearing his throat he tried to curb his laughter. Laughter, it was something Sam had thought was gone out of his life now, along with everything else his doctor had told him he couldn't have, but when he was with Dean, it just seemed to bubble out of him. He'd had the best day he could remember having. Even before he'd been told the news of his imminent demise, he couldn't remember being this happy. Sam licked his lips, hazel eyes searching Dean's face.

"No fairy light, huh?" Sam's lips quirked up once again into a broad smile as he gave a nod, "yeah, I think we can do that. Whichever one you want." He wasn't going to mention how grateful he was at the idea, how tired he was, or that he was probably going to have to fight to stay awake on the ride. Instead he simply tore his gaze away from Dean's looking down at the ground before them as they walked slowly together.

When they reached the plain black carriage, Dean helped Sam up without making a deal of it, and then negotiated the price of the ride... all the way to the apartment rather than to the edge of the park. Then he pulled himself up, and sat next to Sam instead of across from him. As soon as they got going, he noticed that the wind had gotten even chillier and Sam's jacket wasn't all that thick. One again, acting as natural as possible, Dean put his arm around Sam and pulled him closed. Seeing Sam's face lift, he gave him a look. "You taught me about sharing body warmth."

Sam smiled shyly, licking his lips. "Yeah," he said softly, hanging his head, "I guess I did, huh?" he asked, pulling his head up, looking back into Dean's face. "I wish," he stopped, pressing his lips together as he shook his head, "nothing, doesn't matter." he told him, tearing his gaze away with a sigh. Wishes were for the living, not the dead, or those rapidly running out of time.

Sam slid a little closer to Dean, snuggling up against him, though he kept his gaze straight ahead, not wanting to look, to see what might be there in those jade eyes. Instead allowing himself to just enjoy this moment, it was selfish, he knew that, but sometimes, when you knew that you were in your last moments, a person tended to be a little selfish.


Dean just held him, looking at his profile for a long moment, and then out at the street. He broke the silence, pointing at things on the crowded sidewalk, trying to get Sam to relax and to stop thinking so much. After about ten minutes, they were back to bantering and as they laughed, they turned toward each other. Dean hadn't realized it, but his hand had slipped to the nape of Sam's neck, and he was playing with his soft, silky hair. His gaze dropped to Sam's lips, his mind going back in time, recalling how they'd glistened after he'd sipped on the beer, how Dean hadn't been able to resist a taste. His lips had been so soft, his kisses so tentative... like the fluttering of a butterfly.

Sam's smile slowly slid away as his gaze became more intense, more focused on Dean's face, his awareness of Dean's hand at his nape, his fingers toying with his hair more acute. A small shiver worked it's way though Sam as he sat there, enjoying Dean's touch. Feeling Dean's gaze on his lips, seeing it, Sam licked them self consciously, unconsciously leaning toward him a little more, his own gaze darting down to Dean's lips, remembering their forbidden kiss in the woods so many years ago.

He heard Sam's heart kick up a notch, heard his blood rushing. He couldn't help himself, slanting his mouth to one side, Dean started to lean in, his mouth brushing Sam's. God... he needed to know if he'd built this thing up in his own head. He started to kiss him when the carriage came to a jerky stop.

Sam gasped in a breath, his heart beating harder in his chest, eyes flitting closed as Dean's lips touched his, his hand sliding against the back of the carriage seat toward Dean, hand fisting in the material of Dean's coat. When the carriage came to an abrupt stop, Sam jerked his head up, licking his lips as he looked out at his apartment building and blowing out a hot breath. Turning his head, Sam looked shyly back at Dean, a small smile pulling at his lips. "It's warmer inside," Sam told him softly with a slight shrug, "our lips won't get stuck together in there," he mumbled, smiling wider, though a pink blush stained his cheeks.

"Tease," Dean grinned and jumped off, paying the driver and daring him to give him any lip. A few moments later, he had his arm around Sam and was getting him inside the building. "Keep looking at me like that Sam, and I'll show you what can happen between the first and fourty-fourth floor." He gave the guy a side long glance, as they waited in the lobby.

Chapter Text

If only... Sam frowned, a pained look on his face before he lifted it, not looking at Dean, but at the elevator before them. "It's not fair, ya know?" Sam told him softly as he shook his head, "A few years ago, things might have, could have been so different, but now." He huffed and looked over at Dean. "I don't need to think of you here regretting anything between us because I can't-" he sighed and tore his gaze away, looking back at the elevator. "Yeah..." he pressed his lips together, brow creased in a frown as he stepped into the elevator.

Dean followed him inside, stood facing him, and in his space as the doors closed. "Don't know about you Sam, but I don't regret what happened at that camp. It's what didn't happen that I regret."

Sam pressed his lips together as he looked back into Dean's eyes, unflinching. "No, I don't regret it. I -" he licked his lips and gave a nod, "Yeah, me too. What didn't happen," he cleared his throat nervously. "What can't happen now." he added, voice softer and this time full of regret.

Leaning in, his entire body touching Sam's, Dean whispered in his ear. "I was the coward before, now it's you." He didn't pull away, wouldn't budge unless Sam pushed him, and he didn't. So they stood like that, until the elevator finally reached Sam's floor and the doors opened. Finally moving away, he left Sam a little space to pass him, his gaze seeking Sam's. He could hear his heart beat, he knew... he knew Sam was just as interested. Maybe if he... if they got involved, maybe he could tell Sam... and offer ... but seeing the resolve re-enter Sam's eyes, he knew it would never work.

Sam shook his head from side to side. "Not a coward, I - I guess I am Cinderella," he licked his lips, "and the clock is striking midnight."

"I may not be a prince, but I don't give up either..." Or maybe he could end up being the fairy godmother, if Sam would only let him. The thought of having someone, no, not just anyone, having Sam with him for eternity was getting increasingly harder to resist.

* * *

Sam woke nearly three hours later from his nap, he hadn't meant to sleep that long and now he was slightly embarrassed that he had. Hearing no sounds, he assumed Dean had gone home. The thought had Sam's chest aching, though he couldn't say he blamed the guy.

When he made his way out, only to find Dean still there waiting for him, even offering him a mug of hot tea, his heart soared. He'd blushed probably five shades of red when Dean made a joke about him now being Sleeping Beauty.

After Sam got more awake and had finished the tea, they got ready to head out again, there was still a tree that Sam meant to see, and things he needed to do. He had less than one week to fit in an entire lifetime, and somehow, he would.

Leaving the apartment building, Dean offered to get them a taxi, but Sam shook his head. He wanted to walk. He didn't care that it was freezing out, or that his nose and cheeks were turning pink from the chill, he wanted to walk and soak everything in, see the lights and enjoy the city. After all, what was going to happen? Was he gonna get a cold? That thought would have made him laugh if he wasn't pretty sure his laughter would have turned into tears. He'd give anything for a simple cold right now.

Walking, Sam wasn't sure if the earth was suddenly tilting more on its axis or if one or both of them were doing it on purpose but they seemed to be winding up closer and closer together, finally at one point their hands collided and Sam jerked his head up to look into Dean's face, even as he allowed him to take his hand. "I'm still not gonna sleep with you," had been Sam's amusement-filled reply to the gesture, only to receive a "We'll see," from Dean, that had his heart racing.

The tree was beautiful, but Sam couldn't help stealing glances at the man by his side, even if he was suppose to be looking at the tree. Sam wasn't sure which of them was more beautiful, the tree, or Dean.

Slowly walking away from Rockefeller Center, they held hands and talked about most anything that didn't take them to looking into the future, because it was just a place Sam couldn't go. Stopping at a small bistro, Sam laughed at the look on Dean's face when he ordered half the menu for himself. Dean however didn't order much at all. A small quiche, which Sam ended up finishing for him, and coffee. At least Dean did drink the coffee.

"I know you ate a lot, but do me a favor?" Dean cocked his head to the side.

Sam looked up at him, lips pressed together, brows raised, "Hmm?" he licked his lips, "What's that?"

"Have some cherry cheesecake," he gave a slow grin. "I have a thing... for red..." He didn't have to say 'and your mouth' cause that's where he was staring.

Sam started to smile, thinking he was kidding, but the look on Dean's face, his gaze focused on his lips and the memory of earlier when he had seemed rather transfixed by the sight of him licking ketchup off his fingers had Sam clearing his throat instead. "Uh, red?" he licked his lips, "Aren't you supposed to ask me to like eat some whipped cream or something, not... something red?" he frowned slightly. "I mean, red's like blood not -" he cleared his throat again, tearing his gaze away from Dean to look down at the red table cloth, nervously fidgeting with his dessert spoon.

Was he thinking of death? Of his mortality? "Red is... sexy, sensuous. It's Valentines hearts, and red velvet furnishing for rooms made for sex." He put his hand over Sam's, stopping his movements, his thumb brushing over his pulse.

Sam pulled his head up, his gaze intent on Dean's face.

"Cream comes ... later, and I did say cheesecake... you could finish it off with whipped cream." He pulled Sam's hand up, and brushed his mouth over his inner wrist. "Say yes."

Sam swallowed, licking his lips. Giving a nod, he straightened in his chair. "Share - share it with me?" he asked, even as his gaze darted away to look for their waitress.

Dean gave a nod, then ordered. Since she had all the desserts on her cart, she placed the cherry cheesecake in front of Sam. "And a little whipped cream," Dean said.

Her eyes went to Dean's, her cheeks coloring as she added the whipped cream. It wasn't what he'd said, but how he'd said it. "Enjoy," she said, and pushed the card away.

"She's like you, has a thing for cream," Dean whispered, taking just a little cream onto a spoon, and bringing it to Sam's mouth.

Sam's eyes widened, "I didn't say -" his gaze dropped to the spoon held before him, then flickered up to Dean's face as he leaned forward, opening his mouth for Dean to feed it to him.

"Yeah... you didn't say, but you do... you'll see." He oozed with confidence as he brought the spoon back, this time to scoop mostly the red cherries and sauce on the cheese cake. When he brought it to Sam's mouth, he smeared it just a little over his lips, his gaze locking onto Sam's mouth. "I can hear your heart," he whispered, licking his own lips when he saw Sam's tongue dart out.

Sam's heart kicked up at Dean's words. He'd see? Sam suddenly realized just how much he wanted to see, and it tore at him that he couldn't. He had started to smirk, feeling like he should be some stupid groom at a wedding being fed, badly as Dean smeared the dessert over his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the stickiness away. Sam's brows furrowed as he looked at Dean. Sure, his heart was banging pretty hard in his chest, but there was no way Dean could hear it. You couldn't hear another person's heart. "Oh really?" Sam asked, deciding it was another of Dean's smooth lines. Somehow, even now, Dean had the ability to make Sam feel like that kid back in the woods again. Shy and unsure, timid and afraid, but they were such highs, feelings Sam had always longed to feel again, but never had.

"Yeah..." Dean watched Sam's throat convulse, then brought his eyes right back to his red coated lips. Bet his blood tasted sweet. One hand on Sam's thigh, he leaned in and licked his mouth, curling his tongue to scoop up the sauce. "Really." He passed the fork back to Sam, letting him feed himself.


Sam cleared his throat, a smirk pulling at his lips as he slowly reached up, taking the fork from Dean's hand. Now he was pretty sure Dean probably could hear his heart, along with everyone else in the restaurant as it pounded wildly in his chest.

A battle raged inside Dean. Need. The urge to push Sam back, and just... take him, show him what they'd missed. He had to reel it in, the wildness that was a part of his nature now, had to control it... gentle it... to do it for Sam. His jaw pulsed, he tried to look away, but Sam moved closer and spoke, and he could smell the cherries on his lips.

Sam leaned in as if to tell Dean a secret, a smirk pulling at his lips. "You realize, eating it off my lips is not the same as actually sharing this with me? Just saying…”

Dean shook his head, "Yeah. But saying isn't complaining," he answered, swooping in and sucking Sam's lower lip into his mouth, then slowly pulling back, a soft moan breaking from him. "I remember wanting you... not even knowing exactly how I wanted you."

Sam could feel the color invade his face, even as he forced himself to keep his gaze locked on Dean's and played in the cheesecake with his fork. "I remember wanting more, hoping, wishing," he licked his lips, dropping his gaze for only a moment before he looked back, "that after our dad's were asleep you'd come back."

"I couldn't sleep. I just kept thinking of how you felt, how you tasted. I didn't realize you taste like cherries," Dean lifted one of the round cherries to Sam's mouth, intently watching him suck it in. "If I'd known... I'd have braved your dad. I'd..." he swallowed. "I want cherries Sam, I want them so bad," he leaned in and kissed Sam, full on the mouth, his tongue sweeping inside, and stealing the cherry back. When he pulled away, he looked into Sam's eyes. "Don't you want cream?"

Sam's breaths were coming heavier as he sat there staring at Dean. "Don't you want cream?", Dean's question echoed in his mind... his very broken brain. He wanted... God, he wanted so much that he didn't even dare to say it all. But what he wanted didn't matter. The dead or dying, they weren't allowed to have wants, were they? Tears pricked Sam's eyes before he tore his gaze away from Dean's to look down at the table cloth. He ran the palms of his hands against the edge of the table nervously as he sniffled, fighting back tears. "I want," he gave a harsh soft laugh, his gaze darting up to Dean's as he shook his head, "so much." He licked his lips as a stray tear made its way down his cheek, "but I can't." He shook his head, face starting to crumble before he fought it back. "I only have until Christmas."

Don't make me cry. Dean blindly reached for his wallet and tossed enough money on the table to cover what they ate . "Come on," he pulled Sam out of the chair, his grip around the ex hunter's wrist unbreakable as he forced him to walk out. Right next door, there was a deep alcove that lead to an apartment building. Pulling him into the alcove, where plants covered them from view, he reached up and wiped Sam's tears with both his thumbs. "Take what you want Sam. What can it hurt. Tell me... goddamit Sam, who... what are you protecting? You want me? Be with me. We all die. Some early... some are the walking dead... they walk through life, but they don't live it. What have you been doing these past months? Living. Then live... let me be part of it. Let me love you," he said thickly, wanting so badly to pull Sam into his arms.

Sam had been a little shocked when Dean pulled him from the restaurant, but he had been too focused on the one thing he seemed good at these days, self pity, to say much. Now, as he gazed into Dean's face, his back against the wall, outside in the cold, it was almost like they were back there again. No longer were they in New York, no longer was he dying, but they were kids outside, sleeping under the stars, snuggling together for warmth and kissing, wanting.... God, he wanted so much.

Sam sniffled, lips parted as his eyes searched Dean's. "I don't want to hurt you. I - one time, maybe," he shook his head slightly, "and then I'm gone." Tearing his gaze from Dean's, Sam glanced around them and closed his eyes. "We aren't in New York anymore, and I'm not dying. We're kids again," he sniffled, "we're in those woods, and this time our dad's won't be back anytime soon." Sam opened his eyes slowly to look into Dean's. "Kiss me again. Make it like we weren't interrupted, like our dad's never came back too soon," he swallowed, his gaze searching Dean's. "Please."

What here? Sam would freeze. Unable to say 'no,' Dean nodded, and pushed him flat against the door of the building, trapping him. "Your sleeping bag is so warm, but that's not why I'm hot. I've been staring at your mouth, at your hands. I've been wondering what you taste like, how you feel... under your clothes. I think I'm crazy for having these thoughts... cause I never fell for a guy before, and you're the wrong guy, your the son of John fuckin' Winchester, and he'll tear me a new one if I touch you. But right now? I don't care if he's a Wendigo... I need to taste you."

Sam gasped in a breath, heart pounding in his chest as his hands rose, fisting in Dean's jacket, holding onto him, not wanting to ever let go. "I've been staring at you too, when you don't realize it, when you think I'm reading. I look up at you from under my hair, watch you. Something about you keeps me off balance, has my heart racing, making me so fucking unsure of myself and clumsy that I fear you'll never want anything to do with me. Besides, we're suppose to be hunters, the sons of John Winchester and Daniel Colt," he shook his head slightly, "we're not suppose to feel like this about another guy. But, I do and I can't help it and then there you are, in my sleeping bag with your lips on mine and I can barely think, all I can do is hope that it doesn't end. Know that I don't ever want it to fuckin' stop."

Dean's hands slid to Sam's hips, and he started walking backwards, but not allowing any room between them. "You're smart, and you read books, for fun." He kept walking, dragging Sam to the sidewalk, heading in staggering steps toward Sam's building. "And you're funny, even when you don't know it... make me laugh, or make me want to cry because I want you in ways I don't understand. And I know... I know you don't really want to be a hunter... and all I am is... a hunter..." Dean's back hit a bus stop post, and he pulled Sam close, mashed his mouth over his and kissed him hard, tasting cherries and cream... and Sam... the taste he'd never been able to get out of his mind.

Sam's hands slowly released the grip they's had on Dean's jacket and slid around him, arms wrapped around Dean he gripped his jacket again, pulling him in closer as he kissed him back, tangling their tongues together, head moving side to side as the kissed turned more desperate. One hand slid up Dean's back, digits tangling in the short strands of his hair at the back of his head a low moan sounding deep in his throat.

Fuck. They weren't kids anymore and there was nothing... nothing tentative about these kisses, these touches. With superhuman control, Dean turned them around, this time pushing Sam along the sidewalk, their mouths meeting, parting, and meeting again. He could hear people talking... whispering about getting hotel rooms, but he didn't give a shit. All he knew was that Sam was in his arms... saying yes... and he just ... just needed to get him home.

They pushed, and pulled, and groaned, and as they stumbled into the lobby of Sam's building laughed... separating as an old woman that stood at about the height of Sam's waist walked between them, muttering. Dean hit the call button, and once the elevator doors opened, grabbed Sam and dragged him inside. By the time they were at the fourth floor, he had kissed his way down Sam's body and was at his belly button, hand fumbling with the button of his jeans.

Sam moaned, his head dropping back against a wall of the elevator, his hands lowered, still clinging to Dean, one fisting in the material of his jacket at his shoulder, the other tangled in the short soft strands of his hair. "We should..." he licked his lips, "we'll be there in a second." He panted the words, pulling his head off the wall to look down, his hand moving from Dean's head to his shoulder to grab there, pulling on him to get him to stand. "Kiss me again. Need it, need you..."

Letting Sam drag him up his body, Dean wrapped his arms around Sam's waist, pulling him up hard against his body, his aching cock pressing against Sam's hip as he brought his mouth close to Sam's, moved it slightly away, forcing him to chase, chuckling, and giving him an open mouthed kiss. Their tongues instantly twined, Dean moaning as Sam rubbed against him like he needed it bad. When he tried to break the kiss, to let Sam breath, he found his back hitting the door of the elevator. "I think I created a monster," he said, meeting and returning the heat in Sam's eyes.

Sam smiled shyly. "Been waiting a long time," he told Dean breathlessly, before leaning in and slanting his mouth back over Dean's, grinding against him, his hands running over Dean's back, up into his hair and down as their tongues tangled and danced together. Sam's mouth slipped off Dean's kissing along his jaw, down to his neck, teeth scraping over sensitive flesh. "Oh God... I think we would have died back then if we'd have continued. Maybe it was self preservation."

"I think I died back then," Dean whispered back, between kisses. His hands grasped Sam's jacket as the door opened behind him and he pulled Sam out with him. "I looked for you in so many faces... so many Sam..." Pushing Sam against the wall, he locked gazes with him. "I thought I was crazy... looking for you in all the wrong faces, like being with someone like you would make this go away."

Sam pressed his lips together, nostrils flaring. He knew what Dean meant, no he'd never been with another guy, but a lot of the girls, had the same hair color, green eyes, freckles. Yeah, he understood. Leaning back in, Sam's mouth met Dean's in a messy kiss as he fought to get his door unlocked without looking, one handed, as he couldn't seem to bring himself to let go of Dean completely.

When he got the door open they staggered inside, both still holding onto the other, mouths hitting and missing, tongues tangling, touching. Sam shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall onto the floor. "Bed or Christmas tree?" Sam asked breathlessly.

"Christmas...what...?" Dean couldn't unravel what Sam was talking about but also had his own jacket off and was unbuttoning his over shirt as he used his body to make Sam walk backwards.

It was on the tip of Sam's tongue to explain that he was asking if he wanted to be in the bed or under the tree for this, only to decide that he didn't care where they were and it didn't matter, not as long as he got to have Dean, just one last wish before he died. Even hunters were allowed one last wish, right?

Just before they reached the window, Dean turned them around and half sat on the window box type wide ledge, pulling Sam between his thighs, clamping them like brackets around his sides. As he desperately pulled Sam's shirt up and nodded towards the glass window behind him. "Like we're outside again. Stars..." Well, the city lights were close enough, not that he was about to take the view in.

Sam's gaze didn't waver from Dean, though he gave a nod just the same as he bit his lip, unable to stop himself from running his hands over Dean as much as he could.

The instant Sam lost his shirt, Dean was kissing him again, they were mouth to mouth, so much closer than they had ever been in the sleeping bag. His hands roved Sam's body, his back, his ass, pulling him closer, groaning as Sam's erection pressed against his belly. "Want you... so fucking bad... want you," he whispered, kissing his way down Sam's throat and chest, dragging his sharp teeth along his sensitive skin... soothing him with his tongue.

Sam's lips parted, breaths panting as he swallowed, arching his neck back to give Dean better access. "Oh God, yeah... yeah, don't stop... please don't stop this time..." Sam mumbled the words in a breathless rush, eyes closing as he drew Dean closer, his hands running over him, down to his ass, squeezing. Sliding his hands around, Sam lifted the hem of Dean's shirt, sliding it up and over his head as Dean pulled back enough to let him. Sam's hands slid down Dean's flesh, over his chest and lower to the fastenings of his pants, popping the button open and lowering the zipper, his hand sliding inside, underneath his pants and boxers, long fingers wrapping around Dean's length. Sam groaned softly as if he were the one being touched, as if it were him now being slowly stroked instead of Dean as his hand slid slowly over velvet covered steel.

Dean groaned, biting his lip, his neck arching back as Sam pulled him out. Fuck... he looked down, watched Sam's large hand... well shaped fingers sliding, stroking him... making him so damned hot ... so damned needy. Gripping Sam's shoulders, he kissed him again... and again... and again, hard, unforgiving, almost brutal kisses... venting need that had built up over years. When he heard Sam's struggles for breath, he pulled his mouth away, and reached for his pants. Gaze locked with Sam's, he unbuttoned and unzipped him, shoving his hand under his boxers and wrapping his hand around Sam's hard length.

Time stopped. They jacked each other, gazes never wavering, their moans echoing. It was just them. No death, imminent or arrived. No separation. No fears, no anxiety, just a love that had budded one night long ago, and refused to be nipped.

Dean suddenly stood up, his hands going to Sam's hips, he pulled him close again. "Need you naked... naked and under me," he said, pushing Sam's jeans down.

Releasing Dean's cock, Sam's hands moved to Dean's jeans, pushing them down as Dean pushed his. Toeing off his shoes, Sam stepping out of his jeans and reached down tugging his socks free so that he stood naked before Dean, his hands running over each new expanse of his body Dean revealed to him, that he could reach, as he undressed.

The sound of Sam's heavy breaths, his pounding heart, his blood singing through his veins were inflaming Dean's needs. For a moment, as Sam touched him, Dean stood stock still, eying him like a predator, like a snake about to lash out. He bared his teeth... just barely, his eyes glued on Sam's throat, watching his pulse beating. And then he heard Sam say his name, and came back to himself.

Dean swallowed. "You're not that skinny kid anymore." His heated gaze traveled slowly over every beautiful fucking inch of Sam's body. He walked behind him, still watching, taking him in, his palm stroking Sam's ass, before he wrapped his hand around him from behind and pulled him up against his body.

Sam turned his head, watching Dean through passion heavy lidded eyes, "Yeah, I grew up." he mumbled breathlessly. His muscles tensed, twitching under the feel of Dean's hands running over his ass, as Dean pulled him back flush against him, back to Dean's front a small whimper sounded in Sam's throat before he swallowed, grinding himself back against Dean, reaching back with his hands to touch him, hold on to him, run his hands over naked flesh.

"Put your hands on the wall," Dean said, grinding his cock against Sam's ass cheek, his palms now traveling up and down his abs, chest and throat, pulling Sam's head to one side so they could kiss again.

With a nod, Sam leaned forward a little, placing his hands against the wall at each side of the window, breaths panting heavily out, heart hammering in his chest. Sam gasped and moaned at the feel of Dean's hands running over him, his cock grinding against his ass cheek. Sam turned his head towards Dean, kissing him, his body starting to turn at the waist as the kiss grew deeper, one hand slowly lifting from the wall to reach back, cupping the back of Dean's neck at the nape. "Never," Sam panted, gulping in breaths, licking Dean's taste from his lips, "never done this with a guy before."

Once again, Dean was fascinated by the pulse beating under his fingers caressing Sam's throat. Before he slipped into predator mode, Sam's whispered words coupled with the rate of his pulse had him vowing he'd go slow, he would make this work for Sam, no matter what. "Shshsh." Dean kissed Sam's lips, then cheek, moving his mouth back and forth... he couldn't get enough of him. "Relax... we're just going to enjoy each others' bodies. Not going inside," he whispered near Sam's ear, "okay?"

Sam's lips parted, eyes closing before he swallowed, a soft moan sounding deep in his throat, "Mm-hm." His eyes opened, hazel gazing into green, "yeah, okay." He agreed softly, turning slightly more in Dean's arms, holding onto him with the arm he had pulled from the wall as he dipped his head, running light kisses along Dean's neck, biting softly, then running his tongue over the bite, sucking the tender flesh into his mouth. "Mm, taste as good as I thought, always imagined you would."

The nipping at his throat drew a sharp reaction from Dean, one he hadn't anticipated. Feeling like he'd been sucker punched, a groan tore out of him, his fingertips digging into the side of Sam's throat where he'd been caressing him. The shudder of pleasure ripping through him had him squeezing his eyes closed, fighting to keep the hunger at bay... trying to force the predator in him to stay still. Slowly, he moved his hand down Sam's body, sure he'd left bruises on his throat. "Sorry I..." he licked his lips. "Biting kink," he whispered thickly, taking Sam's mouth with his hard... as hard as he could from the angle behind him. His hand started to move faster on Sam's hard flesh, so hot... like velvet covered iron... proof of his need. He had to move the focus off himself, back to the man in his arms... and do it fast. "Hands back on the wall," he said, pulling Sam back a step by his waist.

Sam slowly did as Dean told him to, turning back toward the wall, placing his hand back down palm flat against the cool plaster, breaths panting out as he bit his lip, nostrils flaring.

He was satisfied when Sam was looking out the window again, bent slightly, so his ass was accessible. Dean slowly fucked his cock up and down the cleft of Sam's ass, then using his hand to guide it, teased Sam's hole, nudging against it, smearing his precum over his opening... knowing how sensitive Sam would be in that area.

Sam sucked in a gasp of air, shuddering slightly at the feel of being touched, prodded in an area no one had ever touched, in a way no one had ever touched before. He licked his lips, head hanging as he moaned softly, muscles clenching and unclenching.

"Open your legs for me... going to fuck your balls," he said, his head rearing back slightly as thoughts of ramming himself inside the man he'd dreamed about for so long teased him, just as he was teasing Sam.

Sam pressed his lips together as he did as Dean told him, widening his stance a soft whimper sounding deep in his throat as he pulled his head up, tilting it back, hips thrusting his hard length into Dean's fisted hand, breaths hissing in through clenched teeth.

Almost reluctantly, Dean repositioned himself and started to thrust between Sam's legs, his cock hitting and sliding along Sam's sack. Once he had a rhythm going, he kissed the side of Sam's neck and started to fuck against him a little harder, moaning when he pushed his fist down to the base of Sam's cock, pushing his balls back... and getting more pressure for himself. He looked up, saw the window getting misted with Sam's breaths. "So fucking hot Sam," he whispered, wishing he had more hands, as he used his free one to touch, explore every hard plane of Sam's stomach and chest, learning, mapping his body as he increased the pace of his thrusts to match the movement of Sam's hips.


Sam panted thrusting his hips, his cock into Dean's hand, pressing back against him, writhing in his arms. "Mm, God.. Dean..." He moaned the words, eyes squeezing closed, blinking them open, unfocused hazel eyes gazing out the fogged window at the smear of lights beyond. His head dipping and raising as he groaned, rocking in Dean's arms, back against him, pushing forward, his aching hard cock into the hand wrapped tightly around his dick. Face flushed, Sam turned his head, looking back over his shoulder at Dean. "Want," he panted, swallowing hard, "want to touch you." he groaned softly, eyes squeezing closed as he turned his head back, hanging it. "Ohmygod..."

The raw desire in Sam's voice twisted Dean up inside, had more blood surging to his already rock hard cock. They were touching... every point of their bodies that could. Dean's mouth was constantly moving over Sam's ear and neck and shoulders, his chest and the length of his body was pressed tight against Sam's back as he fucked between Sam's legs, their limbs slid together with each thrust of his hips. He kissed Sam's cheek and tongue fucked the corner of his lips, whispering. "Then touch me... touch me Sam." Taking Sam's hand off the wall, he pulled it down Sam's chest and between his legs, under Sam's cock, to his own throbbing dick.

Sam groaned, heat spiraling through his system as he wrapped his hand around Dean's cock, squeezing him, letting Dean fuck his fist as they moved together, his eyes slowly closing as he tilted his head back. "Ugnah... so good, Dean... oh God, so good.." Sam whispered breathlessly.

Dean's groans matched Sam's as they fucked each others' fists. He was careful, not to push too hard, not to send Sam through the damned window now that he was holding himself away from it only with only one hand. He was also careful not to break the skin on his shoulder... Dean's fangs had extended, and though he teased himself by dragging them across his lover's smooth skin, he could leave no evidence of what he was. Need churned low in his belly, a need to be inside Sam, a need to taste him, to have his blood, to be locked in an erotic vampire dance... but this would have to be good enough, it was more than he'd ever thought could happen.

He started to spiral hard toward his climax, fucking harder, grunting Sam's name, his hand moving faster over Sam's cock, squeezing, wanting him to find pleasure at the same time. "Fuck... Sammy... ungh..." he pulled Sam's face to the side, kissing him hard then releasing so he could thrust harder and faster. "Now... come with me... Sam..."

Sam groaned, soft mews sounding deep in his throat as his breaths panted, heat pooling low in his belly. Biting his lip, Sam pulled his remaining hand from the wall, his forehead hitting against the glass softly, lips parted as he reached back, gripping Dean's hip tightly, fingertips digging into his skin. Balls drawing up, Sam cried out Dean's name as the first rope of his spunk left him.

Dean's stomach clenched at Sam's sudden move. "Sam! Ungh... God..." he groaned, giving one more sharp thrust of his hips and shooting cum onto the wall, mixing with Sam's. A few more thrusts, and more ropes of cum left him, peace slowly settling into his gut. Finally easing back from between Sam's legs, he turned him around and stared into his face, taking in his lust blown pupils and swollen lips, before crushing their mouths together in a heated kiss as he dragged Sam down to the ground with him.

On his knees with Dean, his hands cupped his lover's face as they kissed, slowly easing down to lay on the floor together. As the kiss ended, Sam glanced up toward the couch, reaching across Dean to hook a throw blanket with his long fingers, pulling it down onto the floor for them, pulling the soft material over their bodies as they lay there, gazing into one anothers' eyes. "Mm, that was..." Sam licked his lips, a small shy smile pulling at his lips, "incredible."

Dean ran his hand over Sam's face, echoing him. "Incredible. Better than I ever thought, even if we were a bit... rushed." it wasn't how he'd wanted to be with Sam their first time. "Next time I'll love you... slower," he promised, kissing him on the mouth as he half pulled Sam over him to cushoningg him from the floor.

Sam didn't respond as he laid his head on Dean's shoulder, a frown creasing his brow. Next time... He wasn't going to have many 'next times'. Sam licked his lips, chewing at the bottom one. "Love me?" he asked softly, a very small chuckle working out of him, a mere rush of breath as he ran a hand along Dean's arm, threading their fingers together. "I don't - you can't love me, Dean." He closed his eyes, chest aching. "I don't want you to." he added softly, unwilling to allow Dean to fall for a man condemned to death.

"Okay, okay Sam. Next time I hate you, I'll go slower," he squeezed Sam's hand. "I'm gonna hate every part of you from your head to your toes," he promised, closing his free arm around Sam and holding him tight. As if you could order your feelings around. "And I want you to... hate me back just as hard, okay?" He couldn't help the laugh in his voice. It was either that or he'd cry, and that was not happening. Sam was not dead.

Sam's lips quirked upward as he snuggled closer, glancing up at Dean's profile. "I think I 'hate' you already." he whispered softly, leaning in to press his lips against Dean's jaw, before lowering his head back down to his shoulder, closing his eyes. "Night, Dean."

Dean smiled in the dark, and held back his 'me too,' just tightening his arm. He held Sam like that for hours, wondering if he should offer the dark gift. It hadn't changed him so much, he hadn't become evil. He was coming to understand there were different types of vampires in the world, and also choices. The thing of it was, the type of vamp he'd become... animal blood just didn't do it for him. It had to be human blood. He couldn't see a hunter going for that. He probably wouldn't have. Did he really want the last memory of Sam to be hate-filled hazel eyes? It hurt ... in his heart, even if his heart was supposedly dead. Thoughts kept swirling in Dean's head and as the early hours of the morning came, he couldn't fight off the sleep he had fought off the nights before. His eyes drifted closed, and he was dead to the world.

* * *

Sam's brow furrowed in pain as one of his headaches started, waking him from his sleep. It took him a minute to remember how, why he was on the floor. Looking over at Dean, his arm and leg flopped over the man beside him, Dean's own arm still wrapped around him, holding him in a loose embrace. Sam smiled in the darkness as he stared at Dean, his gaze flickering over his features. He needed to get up, get some of his meds, but right at the moment he couldn't bring himself to leave Dean.

He still couldn't believe it, after all these years he had finally run into the boy, now a man, who had haunted his dreams, his thoughts. Sam's smile slowly slid away as he looked at Dean's face, noticed for the first time just how pale he seemed to be, the darkish circles under his eyes, fanned by long sandy brown lashes. Memories of Dean's being able to guess his ailment came crashing back to Sam so hard, his breath was nearly knocked from his lungs. There - there couldn't be something wrong with Dean too...

Dean didn't deserve that, he was kind and beautiful, funny and caring and... he was perfect. Some odd protective instinct rose up in Sam, as if he was able to protect Dean from a disease any better than he had been able to protect himself. Sam's gaze slid lower to Dean's slightly parted lips and his blood ran cold. There, between Dean's lips, softly parted in sleep, he could see his teeth, and not just any teeth, fangs. Vampire fangs...

Scurrying back as though Dean's touch burned him, Sam's eyes were wide as he stared at the monster before him. Rushing to the kitchen, half staggering in his shock, still unable to believe that Dean, his Dean was a fuckin' monster. Sam hurried over to the counter, hands blindly moving, pulling out one of the large bucher knives, nearly falling as his head pounded harder, vision blurring on and off as he moved.

The sounds instantly brought Dean awake. Scrambling off the floor, he rushed to the kitchen, and seeing Sam bent over the counter, he reached for Sam from behind. "You alright?" he asked, about to help him stand.

Sam whirled around, knife held out before him threateningly. "When were you going to tell me you were a fucking monster!? A damn vampire!" Sam asked him. "Did you think I wouldn't know!? Did you think the dying fool was just stupid enough never to notice!?" Sam yelled, tears stinging his eyes.

Dean took a step back, eying the large knife, then looking into Sam's eyes. The tears, they were at odds with the threatening stance. His own eyes stung. "No, I didn't think that at all. I thought... what I thought was... I was too scared before and I lost... lost you. Now... I had another reason to be scared but I took the risk... I couldn't run from this again." He swallowed, knowing Sam wouldn't believe a word he said... why should he believe a monster? Why should he believe that which he had always hunted? He licked his lips. "I didn't choose this... either."

Sam's brow furrowed as he looked at Dean, lips pressing together before he clenched his teeth. "Don't fuckin' lie to me! It's bad enough you... we..." he shook his head. "Just don't lie," he told him, eying the vampire. None of this made any sense, he had been totally weak and at Dean's mercy that first night, when he's had an episode. Dean could have drained him of blood then, but he hadn't. Hadn't touched him, only helped him and then - then he'd slept on his couch.

Sam's features twisted into a look of pain and it wasn't just the pounding in his head. "I - I don't understand this, any of this. What do you want from me? You could have killed me already and you didn't. Why?"

"Take your pills." Dean waited the space of two heart beats. "Take your fucking pills, I'm not going to move, I swear."

Sam started to move to do it, only to stop and turn back, frowning. "No," he eyed the vampire, "what do you care? Answer my questions!"

"I didn't lie to you, about anything. I just didn't tell you what happened to me... what I am. Everything else.... you know what, if you can't tell that was the truth, then you're not half as smart as I ever thought. Now use the knife, or fucking take the pills. Please," he added softly, hands clamped onto the edge of the counter behind him so Sam would see he was not threat, that he wouldn't fight.


A tear slid down Sam's cheek as he stared at Dean for a moment, blinking as his image blurred, then coming back into focus. "I - I dunno what to think," Sam admitted softly. As he stood there trying to make sense out of all this, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Dean Colt, the man he had thought about all these years, the one who's arms he had just spent most of the night in, was a vampire.

Slowly a trickle of blood ran from Sam's left nostril, dripping over his lip, making Sam lift a hand, wiping at the wetness, only to find his hand smeared with his own blood.

A hiss left Dean's lips as he reared back, eyes clinging to the red trail... now smeared across Sam's face. He felt his fangs ache, lengthen, his body harden like flint. "Wash it off, please... then I'll help you," he said, forcibly tearing his gaze away and praying for strength. He'd help him, then he'd need to go feed... right now... "Hurry," he added, the slightly metalic scent almost overwhelming his senses.

Sam tore his gaze away from Dean and used the hand holding the knife to turn on the faucet. Setting the knife aside on the counter, he rinsed his hands off, cupped water in his hand, splashing it up on his face, his nose and upper lip, until the water ran clear. He patted himself dry with a paper towel. "The headaches, when they get bad -" he didn't finish the explanation, swallowing as he looked at the vampire. "It's stopped."

Sam bit his lip. "I'm sorry," he told Dean softly before lifting his gaze to Dean's. "Drink from me. Kill me and let this end now. Let me decide when and where, how. Not the damn tumor." He gave a wavering smile, "Dying on Christmas kind of sucks anyway."

Dean was on Sam, his naked body aggressively pushing Sam back against the counter, forcing him to bow slightly back as Dean's nostril's flared. His hands were around Sam, fingers biting into his shoulders. He could see the blue marks on his throat... careful as he'd tried to be, he'd left his marks. "I drink from you, and there will be no real dying. You'll be like me... just like me, a monster... but alive," he whispered the half threat, half warning. He could hear the blood rushing through Sam's veins... could almost taste... "I have to go... need to feed."

Sam stared up into Dean's face, heart pounding in his chest. For all his bravado, he was afraid, afraid to die, even if it was Dean who would do it. Sam's face slowly twisted into a look of confusion, brow furrowed. Not die? Be like him? He didn't understand why Dean wasn't willing to drain him, to let him die this way instead of slipping into a coma he would never wake from like the doctors had told him it would be. This way, this way had to be better, and at least he would be in Dean's arms, be giving to Dean, feeding him. The rejection hurt more than learning that his dream lover was now a vampire.

Pulling away abruptly, Dean pointed at Sam. "Don't you die on me, not until we talk this out... Sam," he said, moving quickly to the livin groom and pulling his clothes on almost too fast for human eyes to track. At the door, he stopped. "Pills," he ground out, then left, slamming the door behind him.

Sam stood blinking after Dean, lips parted, breaths coming a little faster from his fear, his gaze darting to the knife and back to Dean. No, he didn't need that anymore, of that he was certain. Sam watched Dean leave, slowly turning, he reached into the cabinet to take out his pills, which he took with a glass of water before walking out of the kitchen to his room, to collapse onto his bed.

* * *

It was late morning Dean returned and entered Sam’s room carrying a tray of food and coffee. "Hey," he set the tray on the bed next to Sam and reached for a pillow. "How does breakfast in bed sound? Then we're gonna see the statue of liberty." He was very unsure of his welcome, and averted his eyes, almost in self defense... he didn't want to see Sam look at him like he had in the morning.

Sam rolled over, looking sleepily up at Dean. It smelled like breakfast again and Sam's stomach rumbled with hunger. He gave a small nod as he allowed Dean to set the food before him, watching his hands instead of looking up at him. "Did you," Sam cleared his throat and looked up, "you didn't hurt anyone... because of me, did you?"

"I don't kill, I just take a little and give them happy dreams," Dean answered pulling away to go lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching him... searching his face for a clue as to what he was thinking.

Sam frowned thoughtfully as he stared at the food for a moment. "But, you didn't want mine." He turned his head to look over at Dean, hazel locking with green, "why?"

"I didn't say that." He gave Sam a look, like he should know. "I want it too much. You're not just... just a mark, just food. Stopping might be a problem, I don't know. I wasn't born this way... I'm still learning." He wanted to look away, but he didn't.

Sam gave a small nod scooping up egg onto his fork. "I, um, I'm sorry," Sam mumbled, "about earlier. I just… woke up. My head was hurting and it woke me. I looked over at you and ...," he frowned, tearing his gaze away, "it's when I noticed things. It was a shock."

"I'm surprised there's no knife at my throat now." Dean looked down. "I couldn't tell you. And if you don't want anything... anything like last night from me again, I get it," he said, his hands clenching into tight balls, hidden from view under his arms. "Just don't shut me out... please. I can do G rated if I have to, I swear."


Sam huffed as he stared at his plate, reaching for the coffee, but not looking at Dean in the process. He took a sip, swallowing, letting the hot liquid burn a path down his throat into his stomach. Concentrating on that so he could say what he wanted to. "G - rated," he nodded. "Somehow I doubt that you could do that. I doubt either of us could."

"Yeah?" Dean couldn't hide the relief in his voice. "Good. I mean..." he finally chuckled and dropped his arms down to his sides. "So, we doing this?" He saw what he thought might be a flash of fear in Sam's eyes, and clarified. "Dude... the statue trip..."

Sam sighed softly before giving a nod, "Um, yeah, just, um," he set the pillow with his plate of food aside, grabbing the sheet to wrap around his waist as he pulled up off the bed. "Just lemme get a shower," his gaze lowered shyly, "get dressed," Sam told him, reaching for the cup of coffee to take another drink before setting it back down.

Laughing, Dean thoroughly checked him out, from his bare chest, to the contours of his body showing clearly against the tightly pulled sheets, and shaking his head, spoke. "You're one of those, huh? Only get naked in the dark types. Alright... take your shower, eat a little, and meet me in the living room." Pushing off the wall, he had to smack Sam's ass before he walked out, whistling under his breath.

* * *

Like the day before, they found that they really enjoyed each others' company. Sure they were different in a lot of ways, but they made each other see the world a little differently, got each other a little more interested in things that might have passed them by without thought before. The jokes came easily too, and laughter. Dean had missed that in his second life as a vampire, and Sam... he probably hadn't had too much to laugh about recently.

They got back to the apartment and ordered pizza. Dean took a bite or two of Sam's pizza but mostly sat back enjoying his drink and watching Sam from under his lashes. He knew they needed to talk, that Sam didn't have much time, but he was so damned afraid of breaking the spell... of making Sam sad again, or reminding him that he was a vampire.

Sam looked over at Dean, a smile curving his lips, even as he chewed. "You keep watching me like that, I'm going to develop a complex. I'm starting to think something might be wrong with my crazy hair, or that I have dirt on my face or something."

Damn hunters... too observant. "Or maybe I was waiting for the clock to strike NC-17," Dean said, lips curing into a smile. "You gonna eat the tomato stuck right there," he asked, his gaze moving to the corner of Sam's mouth.

Sam stilled, as he looked at Dean, licking his lips. His tongue darted out to brush along the corner of his mouth, before he reached for the napkin to wipe his face, his features blushing a soft pink as he tore his gaze away, "Oh. Yeah."

"I wanted it," Dean said almost petulantly, even as his stomach tightened at the sight of Sam's tongue.

Sam's lips curved upward as he lifted his gaze to Dean's face. "Well, sitting all the way over there," he bit his lip, eying Dean, "it would have gotten cold."

"I move fast." He showed Sam, turning up at his side on the floor next to the coffee table in the blink of an eye. "You thought about it at all? What I said this morning?" he asked, searching Sam's face.

Sam blinked at him, giving a small nervous chuckle as he nodded. "Mm, fast." He frowned at Dean's question, turning his head as he brought his tomato sauce covered thumb to his lips, sucking on it. Pulling his thumb from his mouth with a small wet suction sound, Sam licked his lips, "Thought about what?"

Oh God, didn't Sam know what he was doing to him? Dean waited for him to swallow, then slanted his mouth over Sam's lips, seeking a little satisfaction for the torture. When the kiss started to get a little heated, he pulled back. "About this... forever this." This time when Dean's stomach tightened, it was out of fear... fear of what he'd see in Sam's eyes, or the words with which he'd be rejected.

Sam's lips parted and closed as he looked at Dean. "I - I'm dying, you know that, I can't..." he gave a soft sigh, "and if you mean," he frowned, "Vampire?" he shook his head. "I don't - I don't think I can - I..." he sighed softly, staring down unseeingly at the pizza, eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Just - just let me think about it." He lifted his head, his gaze searching Dean's face, "okay?"

The thought of losing Sam... of just letting him slip away when he could prevent it ... cut Dean up on the inside. He swallowed over the lump in his throat. "Okay. I know..." he gripped Sam's hand, threading their fingers. "I know what it's like... to be asked, when you're a hunter. I know what you want to say to me." His jaw pulsed. "But I'm not just any vampire Sam, I'm... I'm still that guy who wanted to kill evil things, I'm still that guy who would kill anything evil... including myself. I'm not evil... a monster, yeah," he nodded, "but not evil."

Sam frowned at hearing Dean call himself that, knowing he had done the same. Leaning in, he buried his face against Dean's neck as he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Pulling his head back, Sam's gaze searched Dean's face, hand raising to cup his cheek, he shook his head. "Not a monster," he told him softly, "I know what I said and for that …I'm so sorry." His thumb ran slowly along Dean's jaw line. "It's not everyday I sleep with a vampire," he shrugged a shoulder, "I guess I was a little stunned." He swallowed. "Definitely not everyday I confess that I love one," he added, voice a bare whisper.

Dean was trying hard to believe Sam even as Sam stroked his face and whispered words Dean could only dream about. "Don't be sorry. I know what I am," he nodded, "if I weren't a monster... your decision would be easy," he said, bluntly. It was the truth... he lived with it every day, and if Sam made the decision Dean hoped, he would have to live with it too.

The rest of what Sam said made Dean's heart soar. He'd hoped, he'd definitely hoped. And they'd both been thinking about each other for a decade, had to mean something, right? He licked his lips. "If you love me... that's the best Christmas gift ever," he whispered, his eyes gleaming, then he felt a tear slip down his cheek, but didn't hide it.

Sam’s gaze followed the blood tear that ran down Dean's cheek. Pressing his lips together, he swallowed against the lump in his throat as he reached with his thumb to wipe the tear away. Smiling softly, his gaze darted back to Dean's eyes, sniffling softly. "We're a pair, huh?" he asked, softly. "I just," he blew out a breath slowly, "yeah, I need to think about it." He tried to offer a smile, but it was forced. "We have until Christmas anyway, right? Still a couple of days away." He gave a nod, answering his own words.

Sam could die before or after Christmas or after, but somehow Sam had got it in his mind that it was going to be Christmas day. Dean worried he'd wait too long. "Yeah, we do," he said, forcing his own smile. "Tell me... even chick flicks go NC-17, right?" He started to pull Sam into his arms, "I think we could both use a dose of it just about now... unless you want to break out the fucking tissues."

Sam laughed, head tilting back as he licked his lips and wiped his hands on his denim covered thighs. Turning more into Dean's embrace he grinned, glancing toward the hall closet, "Well, I do have a lot of tissues. Seems the flood gates opened around here a few weeks ago." He gave a self conscious huff. "I think the NC-17 rating is much better than a tissue warning," he agreed leaning in so his lips were a hairs breath away from Dean's, "much better," he added, brushing his lips against Dean's.

Licking Sam's lips, Dean couldn't agree more. His hands moving up Sam's sides as they kissed, tongues tangling, squirming to get closer, their problems fell away. They fooled around for a long time, just like Dean had promised... to take his time. When they'd both lost their shirts, and their hands kept creeping into each others' pants, Dean stood up and pulled Sam with him. Hooking his hand into Sam's waist band, Dean walked backwards toward the bedroom, tugging him along. "Glad you told me all those tourist facts about the statue of Liberty," he said, "I'm gonna have to recite them all in my head to keep from coming quickly."


Sam chuckled as his hands ran over Dean's back, down to his ass and up again. "Oh, glad I could be of service," he mumbled, leaning in to lick a path up the side of Dean's neck.

Then they were in the bedroom and Dean half threw Sam on the bed and landed next to him. "Sixty nine... it's my favorite number, what do you think?" he asked, grazing his teeth over Sam's jaw as his hand went to the button of his pants.

Sam licked his lips as he gazed up at Dean. "Mm, yeah," he nodded, "sounds good." His eyes closed as he arched against Dean, his hands running over his back, sliding slowly around and between them to unfasten the button and fly of Dean's pants.

Sam's eyes suddenly flew open, staring up at Dean with wide eyes. "Just, um, no biting," he swallowed. He hadn't thought about just who, or what he had just said 'yes' to having his dick in their mouth. "Not that I think -" he cleared his throat, shrugged a shoulder, "kinda protective of that," he frowned, "area." Sam started to relax his eyes closing once more, "Oh!" he added, eyes flying open again. "And no 71, not, uh well," he licked his lips, "at least go slow," he pressed his lips together with a nod.

Dean pulled away. "You're kidding... you're not kidding?" Astounded, he blinked. "Well... I'm protective of your areas too... kinda selfish that way, but ... I could give you another hand job. Don't want you to be all uptight and nervous and... what the fuck is a 71?" Here he thought he knew it all when it came to sex. He eyed Sam a little suspiciously, though he went ahead and threw his leg over him, straddling his thighs as he unzpipped Sam's pants.

Sam frowned as he looked at Dean, "71? It's 69 with two fingers up my ass." Sam answered. "So, yeah, if you have that in mind, just, um, a little warning or something." He cleared his throat, his gaze darting away as he shook his head. "And no, 69's fine. I just," he shrugged a shoulder, "all that blood down there and the pulsing and um," he pressed his lips together, "I just didn't want this to go from an NC 17 rating for sex to an R for graphic gore." He glanced back at Dean, "Sorry."

"NC-17 to R," Dean nodded, a little miffed, even as he pulled Sam's pants down. "I'll do what I can to resist. And if you want two fingers up your ass, tell me now, so I can get some lube ready." As he scrambled backwards on his knees, he muttered about fearing the things his bookish lover might have read about in some sex encyclopedia.

Sam frowned as he watched Dean, he had a pretty good idea he'd hurt his feelings, though he hadn't meant to. Pulling up, sitting on the bed, Sam drew Dean to him, wrapping his arms around him as he slanted his mouth over Dean's kissing him hard, tongue stroking along Dean's own, running over the roof of his mouth. "M'sorry. Jus' nervous," he kissed him again, "or somethin," he added when their lips parted again, his own sliding down Dean's jaw to his neck, sucking hard on the skin there. He'd seen the marks Dean had left on his own neck and some possessive streak he had no right to made him want to mark Dean.

"Don't bite," Dean said quickly, feeling that same rush he had last night when he'd felt Sam's teeth against his skin. He closed his arms around Sam's back, his head thrown back, giving Sam access to his neck. "I'd never hurt you, I promise you that. Never," he vowed, his fingers running through Sam's hair.

Sam moaned against Dean's neck in answer, running his tongue along the tender flesh after he'd sucked it hard. Pulling his head back, Sam looked into Dean's face, giving a nod. "Yeah, I -" he pressed his lips together, "how about you just hate me then? Hate me until I can't take it anymore. Hate me and I'll hate you and we can both just pass out from all the hate."

That had Dean chuckling and getting up onto his knees, straddling Sam's shoulders with his ass toward Sam's face. "I can do that." He looked down at Sam's face from between his own legs, his mouth almost touching Sam's belly. "Start here," he said, rolling his hips forward and tapping his jeans clad cock against Sam's face, near his mouth. "Get this off me... then I'll hate you ... a lot... with it." As Sam's hands rose to his waistband and button, Dean bent down and kissed his belly and moved down toward his cock. By the time the night was over, he'd have Sam begging for not only a 71, but for every fucking number he could think of...

* * *

Several days passed and it was Christmas eve day. They'd gone out in the morning and stopped by the Guggenheim Museum, but Sam had gotten dizzy and tired, so they cut their visit short. They'd planned on going to the grocery together, then cooking dinner at home. But they decided that Sam would take a nap and Dean would handle the groceries.

Even as he left him, Dean had a terrible gnawing in his stomach. He never liked leaving Sam alone. Even when Sam was showering, he'd listen, make sure everything sounded right. He hadn't asked him again about turning, didn't want to pressure Sam. But the question was always in his eyes and at the tip of his tongue. Fear, something he wasn't used to, was Dean's constant companion.


Sam laid on the couch, not wanting to get into his own bed alone. He'd hated going back there before, and doubly hated it now, when Dean wasn't here to lay in it with him. Curled under the throw blanket, his head on a pillow, Sam closed his eyes, tried to will the room to stop spinning, the horrible ache in his head to go away. He'd taken as many of his pain pills as he'd dared. Four of them was likely as much as a person could handle, even a person of his size, seeing as they had narcotics in them. Even still, they didn't seem to be helping the throbbing pain in his skull. Not this time. If anything, it only seemed to be getting worse with each breath he drew into his lungs.

He of course hadn't told Dean about how badly his head was hurting, only fessed up to the nauseating dizziness since he couldn't very well hide that, not when he had nearly run into a wall two or three times before they got him back and onto the couch. He'd told Dean he'd be fine after a nap and Sam had to believe that was so. He wouldn't die, not yet, not until tomorrow. Tomorrow was the day he had a gut feeling about. It was one of those hunter's instinct things and he had learned early on to trust his gut. He knew that tomorrow was it. This would be their last night together and Sam wasn't about to let some damn headache or a little (yeah okay, a lot of) dizziness ruin it for them. Dean would come back and Sam would muddle through, the pain would subside. It had to.

Another wave of nausea hit Sam and had him rolling off the couch onto his hands and knees on the floor as he panted in breaths, breathing deeply to try to get it to pass. Oh God, don't let me throw up. Not now, not tonight.

Reaching behind him, using the coffee table's edge to balance himself, Sam pulled up onto his knees, slowly pulling to his feet one leg at a time, using the table, then the couch to steady himself, before nearly pushing himself away, launching himself toward the hallway to the bathroom door.

Staggering inside, Sam dropped to the floor in front of the toilet. Arm resting on the closed lid as he hung his head, the world spinning so fast he felt like he was stuck on a tilt-a-whirl gone haywire. Blood started to pour from Sam's nose down his face. Reaching for toilet paper to wipe his nose with, Sam pulled a good amount into his hand, pressing it to his face, his nose, only to have it soaked with blood within minutes. Dropping that bunch of used paper, he reached for more, his hand blood stained and streaked. As his hand hit the roll, a wave of dizziness hit Sam so hard, his eyes rolled up into his head, body slumping onto the floor on his side, curling up into the fetal position as he shook, muscles stiff and locked, the whites of his eyes showing, blood covering his face from his nose, running down his chin, wetting his shirt.


Dean pushed the apartment door open and balancing the bags of groceries, looked over at the couch. "Sam?" he called out, taking them to the kitchen and figuring Sam was in the bathroom. "Sam?" he called louder, turning toward the hall, and focusing. Yeah, he could hear a heart beat... and faint breaths. "Fuck!"

Chapter Text

Some of the groceries fell to the ground, knocked over by the draft Dean created as he ran. The bathroom door was open, and Sam was laying on his side, blood pooling on the white tile and staining his light blue tee. Dean gripped the door frame for a second as the scent of blood slammed into him, then went inside, dropping to his knees and putting his arm under Sam's neck, supporting it. "Sam... Sam... please be okay... Sam," he repeated, over and over, then pulling him close to his body, he picked him up, trying not to breathe, not to be tempted, and on some level, concentrating on the temptation as a way of fighting the panic threatening to engulf him.

He maneuvered to get this big man through the door way, then lifted him up in his arms again, and laid him on the couch. The blood at his nose was dry, he'd stopped bleeding. Dean quickly tore Sam's shirt off and threw it far away from him, not that it helped much. "Sam... oh God..." he touched his forehead, his face, listened to his shallow breaths and hoped he had not slipped into a coma. "Please baby... please, Sammy," he felt his eyes well up. "Don't do this to me... please... don't slip away from me again, I can't take it... Sam I can't take it... please," he cupped Sam's face, pleading, begging him.

Darkness had engulfed Sam, blessed darkness that was free of pain, no more headaches, no more dizziness, only warmth and darkness. At first Sam had welcomed it with open arms, wanting to be nowhere else but there in that dark abyss where he wasn't a man condemned to die on Christmas. He wasn't anything, only finally, blessedly at peace.

It had been his every intention to stay there, to stay in that place of warmth and no pain, but then from far off he heard his voice. Heard him begging him not to go. Sam chuckled in his head at that, he hadn't gone anywhere, he was right here. Couldn't Dean see him, even in the darkness? Couldn't he see that he was there and well, happy, and free of pain? Why would he want him to come out of this? It was... heaven. Sam's brows furrowed as he tried to understand where he was, why Dean couldn't see him, he was standing right there. Standing there in the darkness. His lips parted, but no sound came out. Sam didn't under stand that either. Why couldn't he talk? Where was he?

If Dean couldn't see him, if he couldn't talk, maybe... maybe the darkness wasn't a good place, maybe he should go back? He turned and tried to, tried to walk toward Dean's voice, but he felt like he was walking through quicksand, warm comforting quicksand that didn't want him to go. He struggled more, trudging through the inky blackness toward the sound of Dean's voice.

Sam's head slowly turned on the pillow, lips parting as he drew in a breath, though he made no other sound, no other motion.

Blood red tears were streaming down Dean's face as each of his pleas were answered with silence, until Sam moved... turning his face toward him, like he'd heard. If he heard, he couldn't be in a coma, could he? If he'd reacted? "Sam... Sam, please, oh God please don't leave me alone. We're going to cook dinner. You're gonna teach me how to make special Winchester spaghetti sauce... so teach me... Goddamit Sam, teach me," he insisted, stroking his face, his voice so husky now that it was hard to make out his words. "Please... baby please..."

Sam could feel his own heart pick up it's pace, his breathing going stronger, heavier, it suddenly wasn't as hard to drag in each breath. But, he still had to fight, the darkness wanted to keep him, clung to him and pulled at him, tried to seduce him with it's warmth and pain free embrace. But, it wasn't totally pain free if he couldn't find Dean there, if he couldn't see him, if they couldn't touch or talk or kiss. It was a lie. The darkness was a lie, so Sam continued to struggle, fighting his way out of it, even as his eyes started to burn as they shifted under closed lids, shades of red and blue starting to come into focus, joined by whites and yellows.

Slowly, Sam's lashes fluttered, his eyes opening to mere slits as he looked up at Dean, a small frown creasing his brow. "You're crying." Sam said, his voice whisper soft and hoarse.

A bark of laughter left Dean before he did cry, his chest heaving as he pulled Sam close. "Can't... can't leave you alone, even for a minute or you get yourself in trouble," he said, chin on Sam's shoulder, one hand wiping his tears. "Bought so much fucking food, who was gonna eat it?" He sniffed but wouldn't release Sam.

Sam frowned in confusion, his arms sliding up to wrap around Dean as he held onto him. Held onto his vampire who cried for him. Sam's lips quirked just slightly. "Food? Mm, yeah I forgot." He turned his head, face against Dean's neck. "What happened... exactly?" he mumbled softly. "I don't remember much after trying to get into the bathroom." He pulled his head up, licking his lips, "I think I had a bloody nose."

"Yeah." It took Dean a little longer to pull himself together, then he pulled back. "Bloody... everything. How're you feeling?" He was still touching him, reassuring himself more than anything.

Sam gave a small nod, "Oddly, sleepy." he gave a soft half chuckle, "But, I think I've slept enough." Bringing a hand up, he wiped at is face, noticing that the blood had dried. "Um, did you - were you okay? Coming in... with the blood? I - it started out just the dizziness and a headache. I didn't know or I would have sent you home. I don't want to put you through that. I -" he sighed, biting his lip. "I remember hearing you calling me. I thought I was awake, but I guess not."

"No, I was not okay, and the hell you would send me home," Dean was almost irritated, now that he knew he hadn't lost Sam, and Sam was spewing nonsense. "I am not leaving you alone, just... just get that through your head," he said, meeting Sam's surprised gaze. "You weren't awake. I thought you were d..." He stood up. "I'll get some wet towels, get you cleaned up and changed. Don't... don't move."


Sam turned his head, watching as Dean walked down the hall. With a huff he let himself fall back against the couch, closing his eyes. His head felt a lot fuckin' better that was for sure and the room seemed to have stopped spinning, so whatever it was that had happened, maybe - may be had fixed something. At least temporarily.

Sam licked his lips, waiting until he could hear Dean's footsteps in the hall once more. "I seem to be saying only the wrong things lately. I'm sorry for that. I just - I wouldn't want to put you through more than you should have to deal with. This is," he sighed, "it's a lot to ask of someone." His lashes fluttered as he looked up at Dean when he returned, "I didn't mean to upset you or whatever it is that I did. I tried to take care of it myself." He tore is gaze away, "apparently I didn't manage that very well."

"It's not you," Dean shook his head. "It's me... I just... I thought you were gone. Just... don't ask me again to leave, please?" Licking his lips, he started to wipe Sam down with the wet towel, once again doing his best not to breath in the scent of blood. Walking into that bathroom had wreaked havoc with his senses. At least he'd kept himself well fed, that helped a little.

He put the towel down and picked up the dress shirt, holding it open for Sam to put his arm through.


Pulling up into a sitting position, Sam moved to slid an arm into one of the shirt sleeves, turning at the waist to do the same with the other. "Gone?" Sam asked, once he was sitting with is back against the cushions, "you mean as in dead?" Sam quirked a brow, then shook his head, lips pressed together. "We have tonight before that will happen. And since I almost ruined it, lets not dwell on this anymore," Sam told him, slowly pulling to his feet, "I think we were suppose to cook, right?"

"Why don't we order in, Sam? Or you sit here, tell me how you want me to make this famous sauce," he let Sam button himself up, and searched his face.


Sam's jaw tilted to a stubborn angle. "Because that wasn't what we planned and I don't want my little episode, or whatever it was to ruin my last night with you, that's why," he answered through clenched teeth.

"It doesn't have to be your last night. It doesn't have to be our last anything," Dean answered, through equally tightly clenched teeth. Yeah, he'd promised not to pressure, but hell, he hadn't been prepared, not as prepared as he'd thought.

Sam closed his eyes, through his posture didn't change. Slowly he opened them. "So, I become what you are and then what, huh? What then? You said yourself you were a one night stand type of guy, so what I get changed into a fucking vampire and then one day or night or what the hell ever, you up and get tired of this, and you walk away? Leave me a fucking," he grit his teeth, tearing his tear filled gaze away. He wasn't gonna say it, wasn't gonna say monster.

Dean flinched. He didn't need to hear the end of the sentence to know. "So you heard me say I do one night stands once, and that stayed with you... but you're not listening when I tell you I won't leave you, ever?" He nodded. "I get it, it's not about me leaving... you don't want to be me. I get it."

Sam ran a hand through his hair as he huffed, looking back at Dean. "You said that to a dying man. 'Ever' isn't a very long time to one of those. It is to a vampire, you said so yourself. A few days ago when you asked me about this, about forever." He gave a nod, "I get that, I know I'd be a vampire, alive, forever. And if you walked away..." he huffed, shaking his head, his gaze darting away again. "It has nothing to do with what you are, as long as you were there, I wouldn't care," he told him softly.


Cupping the side of Sam's neck and jaw, forcing him to look at him, Dean gave him a piercing look. "I am not walking away from the best thing in my life, as human and as vampire, not ever. You get that Sammy... I don't know how to make it clearer, I want you with me always. And if you leave me, I will ALWAYS have a big gap, right here," he thumped his own chest. "Like I've had since that night at the camp. A hole I spent my life trying to fill... but nothing did it for me, Sam. Is it crazy, is it fucking nuts that I fell for you in a couple days... that we were just kids? Hell yeah, but it is what it is. Dammit, don't pretend you don't see that, that you don't know..." His hand slipped off Sam, but his eyes held him still, demanding he acknowledge the truth.

Sam stared back at Dean, jaw clenched as their gazes locked. "Do it then," Sam ground out, giving a nod and taking a step closer to Dean. "Make me what you are."

"Because I want it, or because you want it?" Dean asked, taking a step back, afraid he would launch himself at Sam and do it, without giving him a chance to weigh his decision.

"Son of a..." Sam pressed his lips together, eyes narrowing. "First you want me to say 'yes' and now you're not sure that I want it!? I told you I needed to think about it," his hands clenched into fists at his sides, head bowing as he closed his eyes. Lifting his head, Sam opened his eyes. "I needed to think about it because I didn't want to be... that and be alone, I couldn't be. Maybe it's because I was a hunter and maybe it's not, I don't know. Maybe it's just because I didn't want to think about going through an eternity alone, without you." He blew out a breath, licking his lips, "but if you say you're in it for the long haul, then do it, change me," Sam told him, the anger slowly melting from his features as his eyes misted, "I think I kinda need it," he added softly.

At first, Dean stiffened, but as the words spilled out of Sam, he relaxed. Seeing Sam's eyes tear up again, he stepped close, putting on hand on the side of his face. "I think I kinda need you, for eternity," he answered, thumb wiping away one of Sam's tears.

Sam pressed his lips together, his gaze searching Sam's face as he gave a nod. "Yeah," he breathed the word, "me too."

Dean pulled him into his arms, and closed his eyes, resting his cheek against Sam's. It felt like he'd lost and found Sam too many times, all in one day. He couldn't go through this again. He pulled back, and asked. "Now?"

Sam swallowed, his gaze darting down to Dean's lips, at the fangs that were showing just slightly, and gave a small nod before his gaze rose again to Dean's. "I'm ready."

The tension in Sam's face drew a chuckle from Dean. "It's not a fate worse than death. I won't hurt you," he promised, tugging him to the sofa. "In fact... I'm the one who needs to be careful. When you wake up from this, you're gonna be so damned hot, horny and hungry, you'll probably tear my clothes to shreds," he teased, dropping down onto the couch, and pulling Sam down so Sam sat to his left, near the arm rest.

Sam gave a small weak smile, a mere upturning of the corner of his lips that lasted only a moment as he gave a nod. "Is that," he frowned as he looked at Dean, "Is it how it was for you?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Definitely how it was."

Sam tore his gaze away, looking down at the floor as he gave a small nod.

"What... Sam, what's the matter?" He leaned over Sam, one hand pressing into the seat cushion on the other side of Sam's hips as he tried to get him to look up. "You scared?"

Sam looked up at Dean and shook his head. "No," he licked his lips, "I was scared of dying. I'm not scared of living," the corner of his lips quirked, "even if it is forever." He bit his lip, his gaze darting away. "It's stupid, you'll laugh at me if I tell you, so, let's just skip it. I'm fine."

"I like to laugh, tell me." Wrapping an arm around Sam's thighs, he pulled them up so they draped over his own legs, and stroke Sam's thighs as he waited for an answer. "Come on, can't be that bad? What... you already feel like shredding my clothes off and you're worried about what will happen when your lust is on steroids?" He quirked his brows.

Sam raised a hand, running it over his face as he sighed. Letting his hand fall away, Sam's gaze strayed to some point on the wall behind Dean. "Can we just skip talking about that? I really don't need the gory details if you don't mind. As stupid and as selfish as it might be, because really, what right do I have to say or feel anything?" he sighed again, closing his eyes, "Still," he added softly, eyes still closed, "I just really don't want to think about that, okay?"

"About what? Sam?" Confused, Dean leaned in and kissed him lightly. "Tell me... Come on, open those pretty eyes and just say it, unless you're gonna say you expected a cape or...something." He had the feeling it was something funny or embarrassing, but wanted to be sure Sam wasn't really worried or scared.

Sam's eyes opened and narrowed on Dean, jaw clenched as he glared at him. He'd thought he had pretty well spelled it out for Dean, but apparently his vampire wanted him to write it in fluffy letters in the sky for him. "I'm jealous, okay?" he huffed, tearing his gaze away from Dean and swinging his legs off the couch at the same time. Pulling to his feet, Sam started walking toward the kitchen. "How would you like it if I told you about the werewolf chick I banged? Or about the antiques dealer that I -" Sam let his sentence trail off as he tugged open the refrigerator door and grabbed the shasta Dean had brought him all those days ago. He hadn't really done anything with Sarah, so he couldn't really finish the sentence anyway, but he was sure Dean got the point.

Popping open the bottle, Sam brought it to his lips, taking a long pull as he turned back around to face Dean. It wasn't like he cared now that he wasn't suppose to drink the stuff, he was about to become a vampire. Somehow he was sure that would be higher on his doctors list of 'don't do's' than the stupid soda.

A stunned expression crossed Dean's face. He silently mouthed 'jealous.' He had to clear the smile off before he stood up and turned to watch Sam in the kitchen. "I'd say they're in your past and the reason that when I kiss you, you kiss me back like I need. The reason you're the way you are now. As for the vampire chick... would it make you feel any better if I told you I took off her head?" His tongue slid to the corner of his mouth as he looked down, then back up. "Not my most brilliant move, since I didn't know what the hell I was and I had to learn how to deal... on my own. Now, c'mere... lemme tell you... show you... you don't ever have to be jealous."

Sam eyed Dean for a minute or two before placing the bottle on the counter and walking around it toward him. "Like I said, I know it's stupid, alright? You don't have to tell me, I know. And I know that I don't have any right to be, so, let's just drop it."

Dean put his hand out, "Fine. Just know... everyone else in my life were people I met while I was looking for you. You can believe it or not, but that night in the woods... there was something magic about it, but I dunno, maybe our timing was off. You were never just a 'face' to me. I remembered everything about you, your name, the sound of your voice, your scent... I knew it was you in the museum that first day before I ever saw you."

Sam gave a small huffed smile as he hung his head at Dean's first words. They sounded like something out of some greeting card, something people always wanted to hear, but that no one ever really said to someone else. Pulling his head up, Sam looked at Dean as he continued, his gaze searching Dean's as he spoke, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

He took a step closer to Dean, his hands raising to Dean's hips, holding him there as hazel locked with jade. "Vampire," Sam nodded, "it's easy to detect scents as a vampire," he shrugged a shoulder, "or so I'm told." Leaning his head in, he placed his forehead against Dean's. "I'd given up hope, condemned myself to death as much as the doctors had." He licked his lips, "I didn't plan on letting anyone in, not giving more of myself than maybe a few minutes," he frowned, "even when I first saw you." He squeezed his eyes closed, "even when I wanted to so badly." Sam opened his eyes, "But, I couldn't do it. I couldn't lose you twice. Couldn't watch you walk away from me while I just stood there helpless to stop you for the second time in the same lifetime."

Dean put his own hand on Sam's hips, drawing him closer. "Thank God. It was really touch and go," he nodded. "Every time I tried to get close," he nodded. "But we found each other. And both of us had damned good reasons to run, and didn't. That's what counts Sam." He brushed his lips across his lover's. "You know what this makes you?" He gave a slow grin. "You're my Christmas present... the one I've been wishing for all these years. Now come make-out with me..."

He had started to get a little misty eyed, eyes stinging with unshed tears. Damn tumor was turning him into a girl, had to be what it was, he knew he'd always been a little emotional, but not like this. At Dean's declaration of 'what he was', Sam laughed, head tilting back a little before he lowered it again, shaking his head at his vampire. "Christmas present? Dude, I think you were totally robbed." Sam chuckled, as he moved back to the couch with Dean, his arms sliding around him as he leaned in, lips brushing Dean. "Make out with you?" he gave a small nod, "I think I can do that," Sam told him softly, slanting his mouth over Dean's, lips parting, tongue flicking out into Dean's mouth to slide along his, tangling them together.

Dean pulled Sam closer, one hand on the back of his neck, his thumb under Sam's jaw, easing his face to one side and the other as they kissed and murmured each others' names. One heated kiss lead to another, but Dean took his time. There was no rush now... they had the rest of eternity and it would come soon enough "Mmm, love you Sam," he muttered, once again pulled Sam's legs up over his lap so when he pushed Sam back against the arm rest, Sam was practically laying back.

Lifting his head, he gave Sam a chance to catch his breath, his gaze sweeping over swollen lips and eyes shining with love. His hand moved up and down Sam's chest, eventually starting to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Sam's breaths panted out through parted lips as he gazed up at Dean, hands running over his lover's back and arms. "I love you." Sam answered softly, glancing down at Dean's hands moving down the buttons of his shirt, then looking back into Dean's face. Pulling a hand away, he moved it to the back of the couch, leaning up as he did, crushing his lips against Dean's once more, kissing him deeply, hungrily, though not for as long. Pulling back, Sam sucked on Dean's lower lip, slowly releasing it before he allowed himself to drop back against the arm rest once more. A small smile tugged at Sam's lips as he gazed up at him, "Just... had to do that."

"Oh yeah? Never stop," Dean answered, glad it wasn't that Sam was nervous. He licked his lips, tasting Sam on them, then leaned over him again, kissing his lips lightly, then moving over his cheeks, and jaw, tracing the outline of his face. The sound of Sam's blood rushing through his system, his pulse beating at the base of his throat seemed to get louder, almost eclipsing every thing else as Dean moved toward that moment when he would make Sam his forever.

He ran his thumb up and down Sam's throat, tracing over his veins even without looking at them, and then trailing heated kisses along Sam's throat until his tongue was pressing over his vein, the pulse jumping against his sensitive tongue. He kissed, and sucked the spot, one hand moving over Sam's chest and belly, hoping to distract him from.

Sam had almost forgotten what they were about to do, almost. But, the feel of Dean's mouth at his neck, at his jugular, had Sam swallowing hard as he closed his eyes. He knew Dean was trying to distract him with his loving touches, his caresses and Sam loved him a little more for it, but when you were about to be changed into something you spent your whole life being told was evil, even if you met one that wasn't, that was so far from evil it made you want to laugh at everything you ever were taught, it was still hard to get your mind off what was about to happen. Sam was pretty sure a nuclear bomb could go off and it wouldn't take his mind off of what exactly Dean's mouth was doing at his neck.

Wrapping his arms tighter around Dean to show that he wasn't backing out, Sam licked his lips. "Will it hurt?" he asked softly, figuring Dean knew him well enough to know he wasn't asking about a simple bite, that he was referring to the change, to dying.

The question had Dean lifting up, to look into Sam's eyes. "No... just a scratch, and then your mind tricks you. You think you're making love, that's why your heart's beating so fast, that's why your blood's rushing. You just fall asleep making love... that's all, promise." He tightened his arm around Sam and started moving back in. His vampire instincts were telling him go.. to do it... to take Sam's blood, make him his.

Sam gave a small nod, "Sounds... nice." he tried a small smile, but his nervousness prevented it from going far. Taking a deep breath, Sam closed his eyes, his own grip tightening as he held onto Dean. Slowly, Sam slid his head, arching his neck to the side to give Dean better access as he ran his hands up and down his lover's back.

He could hear the doubt in Sam's voice, and immediately dipped his head down to prove him wrong. He licked Sam's throat, kissed and made as if to lick again. Instead of his soft tongue, this time it was his razor sharp fangs that pressed against Sam's sensitive skin. By the sudden thud of Sam's heart, he knew Sam was aware, and cradling his head, Dean pressed down, biting... moaning as his fangs sank in and sweet blood surged up into his mouth.

Sam's eyes shot open as Dean's fangs sank into his neck, a soft gasp escaping his lips as his hands fisted into the material of his henley, bunching the fabric in his hands, holding onto him tightly. He grit his teeth as he squeezed his eyes closed, instinct telling him to fight, to defend himself, his upbringing shouting at him to kill a vampire, but Sam fought to ignore it, clinging tightly to his love, though his body seemed to want to move away from what was taking it's blood anyway.

He didn't allow Sam to move, not at first, as he swallowed quickly... greedily, at last tasting the nectar he'd been craving. With each mouthful that he drank, a little more of Dean's own essence was released through his fangs, traveling through Sam's body... tricking him... tricking the prey into relaxing... stimulating the sexual nerve centers of his brain.

Slowly Sam relaxed in Dean's arms, his hands fisted in his shirt slowly loosening their grip, lips parting as his breaths started to come faster, his heart beating fast and hard in his chest.

Once Dean was certain Sam wouldn't fight him now, he started to lap slower, his hands moving over his lover, enhancing what Sam's mind would be telling him by now, making him forget about the vampire's bite... making him feel each touch like a thousand.

Sam gasped, arching into Dean's touch, moans and soft groans tumbling from his lips as his body writhed, hips bucking just slightly, seeking the friction he craved. His hands moved over Dean, caressing, pressing hard against him with the heels of his hands, running short blunt nails up his cotton covered body as Sam groaned and shuddered in Dean's arms.

That's it... that's it love... think of me... of my hands all over you, of my mouth all over you... that's it baby. Dean continued to run his hands over Sam, lifting his hips under Sam's legs, the external sensations would enhance whatever he was dreaming about, and Dean knew Sam wasn't hurting, that he was being pulled into the erotic web of a vampire's bite. The sounds Sam made, the movements of his body confirmed it. Dean's own stomach tightened, stimulated by what Sam was going through. That... and of what would come later, when he woke... just the thought spiked Dean's adrenalin, something he didn't need right now.

One of Sam's hands pulled off Dean's back, gripping the back of the couch as he arched and moaned, his hand on Dean's back fisting in his shirt once more, Sam's teeth clenching as his bucked his hips, undulating on the sofa, a deep groan tearing from his throat before his lips parted, gasping in a breath, hand on the couch cushion tightening, clenching it in his hand.

Breaths panting, Sam slowly started to go completely calm. His hand slipped down the back of the couch to fall to his side, the hand fisting in Dean's shirt loosened it's grip completely, slowly sliding off to hang off the side of the sofa as Sam's body became deathly still, quiet, peaceful, as if he were in a deep sleep.

Dean tore his mouth away from Sam's throat with a pained groan. He was used to taking small quantities, but Sam was different. He lusted after Sam, so his lust for Sam's blood was sharper than for others. At this point, it made no difference, his heart beats were slowing and would still, no matter whether Dean drank a little more or a little less. Feeling under the cushion next to him, Dean pulled out a knife he'd left there. Using it, he cut himself across the forearm.

With one hand, he pulled Sam's now slightly bluish lips open, his fingers spreading the top lip away from the bottom. He let his blood spill into Sam's mouth. Whether he managed to swallow or not, it would mix with the essence that Dean's fangs had injected into him. The process would begin right away.

He heard one last sigh from Sam, then there was absolute quiet. Dean dropped his arm down, and now just watched over Sam, occasionally running his fingers through his hair. It wasn't a permanent death, he kept reminding himself, pushing the small doubts that crept in, that threatened to send shards of ice into his gut. Sam would come back to him, and then they'd have the best damned Christmas, and they'd watch the ball drop at Time Square on New Years... celebrate Sam's presence.

Nodding, he kept telling himself that, kept envisioning it... though he knew the wait could be long.

* * *

Consciousness slowly returned to Sam with two blaring hungers gnawing at him. One he didn't understand completely, the other he definitely did. His eyes shifted behind closed lids a moment before they shot open, lips parting, his fangs elongating. As his gaze settled on Dean, Sam nearly launched himself up from his position reclining back on the sofa and into Dean's arms, his mouth at Dean's jaw, licking and sucking, kissing his flesh as his hands pulled and tugged at his clothes. "Want you," he whispered huskily against Dean's skin.

"Right back at you," Dean answered, instantly closing his own arms around Sam, pulling back only to look at his face, see... see the light come into his eyes once more. "Missed you, missed you so bad," he said, slanting his open mouth once again over Sam's, giving him access. He gave as good as he got, long hard kisses, neither of them having to breathe. He molded Sam's body against his, hands moving up and down his back, needing him closer. "Right here ... baby," he whispered, answering Sam's desperate sounds.

Sam moaned softly, his mouth on Dean's tongue tangling with his, his hands running over Dean's body, up under his shirt, down to the waistband of his jeans. Pulling his hands out from under the material, Sam started to tug it up and over Dean's head, only pulling his mouth away when the fabric stopped moving and he had to. Tossing it away, Sam leaned back in, nearly devouring Dean's mouth as he shrugged out of his own open shirt, desperate moans and mewls sounding in his throat.

Once they were both undressed to the waist, Sam ran his hands over Dean, fingertips digging into his flesh as he moved slowly, wantonly across Dean's flesh before wrapping around him, his tongue trusting harder into Dean's mouth pressing him back until they both tumbled off the end of the couch onto the floor.

Groaning, Dean rolled on the floor with Sam, each of them clawing to get closer. He managed to end up on top and thrust his knee between his lover's legs, pressing his thigh against Sam's already hard cock straining against his jeans. Mouth to mouth, he kissed him, his tongue darting away from Sam's, tangling, chasing, and battling. Sam's desire, his absolute, almost mindless need inflamed Dean. He kissed Sam's throat, his chest, and moved lower, despite the hands tugging at him. He dragged his razor sharp fangs down Sam's chest, this time with no fear of hurting him.

His hands skittered, dancing down Sam's abs to his fly. Dean ground the heel of his hand against the thick buldge in Sam's pants, hissing at Sam's reaction.

Sam's head raised off the floor, body squirming and bucking under the heel of Dean's hand, a low sound nearly a growl tearing from his throat as he reached for Dean, breaths panting through parted lips. One hand wrapped around Dean's bicep, Sam groaned tried to thrust his aching cock up against his lover's hand. "Nauugh! Mmm.. fuck!" he hissed in a breath through his teeth as his head fell back against the floor. "Take 'em off, get 'em off me..." Sam panted, writhing.

If he'd stop squirming, it would be easier, but Dean didn't argue. He ripped the button off, then pulled Sam's zipper down, the sound making his gut clench. Hands moving roughly to Sam's hips, he dragged the jean's down, slamming his mouth down over newly exposed skin, low on Sam's belly. He sucked the sensitive flesh into his mouth, hard, then moved lower. His hands moved under Sam's ass, and the instant he raised up, he had the jeans down to his thighs.

Sam gasped in a breath at the feel of Dean's mouth low on his belly, his hands lowering, digits tangling in the soft short strands of Dean's hair as he clenched his teeth, hips bucking, lifting up off the floor. "Mm, more! Pull 'em down!" Sam panted the words, even as Dean pulled his jeans down his hips.

The hard outline of Sam's cock was visible against his briefs. Dean licked over the material, but feeling Sam's struggles, pulled that down too. He licked him, from base to tip, repeating the motion and then opening his mouth and guided Sam's crown inside.

Insane. Dean was going to drive him utterly insane with want. The feel of his mouth over his achingly hard cock, the damn briefs separating them, tore a whimper from Sam's throat as he squirmed and writhed. His lips parted on panted breaths as Dean's tongue ran along his length, chest rising and falling hard. "Oh God, Dean..." Sam mumbled the words breathlessly, pressing his lover's head down as he thrust his hips upward. Needing, wanting, craving more. Sam's neck arched back on a tortured moan as the crown of his cock was engulfed in Dean's wet mouth, soft full lips wrapping around his weeping, throbbing cock. "Nuaggh! Oh shit! Yeah," Sam bit his lip, sharp fangs piercing his own flesh, making small ribbons of blood trickle down his chin.

As Dean took him completely in his mouth, sucking hard, giving Sam the pressure he needed, the scent of blood was thick in the air. Sam's. Thoughts of feeding from each other as they fucked had Dean rock hard and groaning around Sam's hard flesh. Need slammed into him, had him touching, greedily moving his hands all over Sam as he sucked and moving his mouth up and down his rock hard shaft. He felt Sam lift his hips, try to fuck his mouth... gave him everything he could, his cheeks hallowing out, head bobbing.

It became almost a struggle, Dean trying to hold Sam back, Sam pushing for more. If he'd needed to breath, if he'd had a gag reflex, it would have been over. Dean released his hold on Sam's hips and found himself rolled onto his back, Sam still desperately fucking his mouth. "Mmmm," he worked harded to keep a little distance between them, to keep Sam's hip from banging into his face.

As Sam rolled them over, the denim still caught around his thighs dug into his skin as he moved a knee to the floor beside Dean's arm, the sound of material ripping nearly drowned out by Sam's desperate gasps, his moans and groans and nearly anguished whimpers, as he thrust his cock harder into his lover's mouth.

Palms flat against the floor above Dean's head Sam held himself like that, fucking Dean's mouth with bruising force. Tongue darting out, Sam licked at the blood painting his bottom lip, moaning at the taste, the need that spiked through him, different and yet the same as his lust. "Anugh!"

Dean let Sam have his way for a while, his fingers digging into his lover's flesh, controlling him only as much as he had to, listening to the sounds he made, his own lust whipping up. His head rolled back, allowing Sam more access, swallowing around his cock, giving him what he needed. As Sam's movements became even more frenzied, Dean forcibly pushed him up, turned his head to the side, letting his cock slip out of his mouth.

Sam gasped and groaned, wanted no part of Dean stopping. He struggled to pull him back, to force Dean to take his cock again.

Both arms around Sam, he pulled him down, forcing him to slide down his body, his hard cock leaving a wet trail down Dean's chest and abs.

"No, no," Sam groaned, hands grasping at the wood floor trying to find purchase, only to find none.

Now that their bodies were once again aligned, Dean raised up, hand behind Sam's head, slanting his mouth across his lover's, kissing him hard... licking away the blood, moaning at the sensations rocking his body.

As their bodies slowly lined up, Sam's hands gripped Dean's shoulders in a bruising grip, fingertips digging hard into his flesh, fangs bared, breaths panting out. As Dean's mouth covered his, Sam moaned into the kiss, his hips thrusting his aching cock against Dean's jean clad one frantically as he kissed him back, always demanding more.

With a groan, Sam tore his mouth away from Dean's, pulling back as he sat up slightly, hazel orbs fixed on jade, hands slowly releasing their grip on Dean's shoulder's to slide down his body to the waistband of his jeans.

"Sam... Sammy..." Dean 's words fell on deaf ears. His lover was intent on getting his way, and anything that would slow them down was not an option.

Without unfastening the jeans, without even trying, Sam took the material in two hands, ripping them open, nearly tearing them from Dean's body before releasing the denim to do the same with his boxers, hands dipping below the elastic band, yanking hard to tear the material away.

Lowering himself back down onto Dean, Sam's hands moved to grip both sides of Dean's head, holding him still as he lowered his head, slanting his mouth over Dean's. He thrust his tongue into his mouth at the same moment that he started to thrust his cock against Dean's once more, matching the rhythm of his tongue in his lover's mouth with that of his dick sliding along side Dean's as his hips moved.

Dean lifted his hips, moving against Sam, tangling his tongue with with Sam's, hands roaming over his body. He knew Sam didn't want it gentle and soft, not this time, so his fingers dug into his back and ass, gripping him hard, raking down his body, showing him that Dean wanted him badly too. He knew the fires that burned in Sam's body would demand more, and soon.

He rolled over on top of Sam, still kissing him, still fucking up against him. His cock pulsed and ached so fucking bad, he groaned. "Want to be inside you," he held Sam down, to stop him from attacking his mouth again. "Want to be in you when you feed. You're hungry... what you're feeling, it's hunger... it's gonna be okay, baby." Lifting his own wrist, he slid it against his own fangs, then allowed the blood to drip on Sam's mouth. "Go slow... control it... don't let it control you."

Sam lay panting, arching, bucking and writhing under Dean, wanting more. Wanting his mouth back to kiss, his taste, the press of his lips. His aching cock nearly driving him mad, the other sensation, it was building, nearly driving him as mad as his lust for Dean's body, for release. Hazel orbs watched, nearly transfixed as Dean brought his wrist up to his own mouth, some part of Sam, some inner knowledge made him squirm more, his stomach tightening. Wanting to be the one who - what?

The scent of Dean's blood assailed his senses a moment before his lover turned his wrist, offering it to him. With the first drop that passed Sam's lips, his back arched, hands reaching up, pulling at Dean, trying to get him closer, one hand wrapped tightly around his forearm, so afraid he would take it away. His hips moved at a frantic rhythm, thrusting his aching erection against Dean, lips painted red with his blood as he took it in through parted lips, eyes locked with Dean's, low groans sounding deep in Sam's throat.

Gaze transfixed on Sam, Dean continued to thrust against him, grinding his cock over Sam's, moving against him so hard if he were still human, it would be sounds of pain not pleasure that came at him from Sam. As Sam lapped at his wrist, Dean knew it wouldn't be enough. Sam needed to bury his teeth into Dean's artery, but this would help... so he'd be less needy, could control it when he needed to.

"That's it, that's it baby," he encouraged, bringing is mouth down, kissing Sam's face, writhing over him as his lover sucked at his wrist.

Sam's eyes slowly closed, deep groans and moans sounding in his throat as he all but made love to Dean's wrist with his mouth, lapping at it, tongue fucking the wound, running his lips across it, sucking on the tender flesh as he raised his head up off the floor so he could reach. Sam's hands never strayed from Dean's form, clinging tightly, unable or afraid to let go, needing to know he was there, that he would not take this from him. His body ground up against Dean's, thrusting and aching, his chest rising and falling hard.

They moved together like that, not quite getting satisfaction, but on the brink of something wild and wonderful. Dean tried a couple of times to re-adjust their bodies, but each time he managed to pull a part of himself up, Sam's heavy hand would come down on him, his fingers digging into him. The same went for when he tried to lift his head, or his wrist away from Sam's mouth.

A chuckle worked its way out of him, despite the heat of lust burning through his body. "You're like a baby tiger, your nails are digging in me everywhere," he put more force behind his actions, and found himself looking down at puppy dog eyes filled with worry and disappointment. "Gonna fuck you, Sam. And you can have more... right here," he ran his finger down his own jugular. "All the blood you need, just ... you have to control it... ride it, don't let it ride you, okay?" He stared intently at Sam, trying to make sure his words got through.

Sam's lips parted on a groan, head tilting back as he gasped in a breath, straining up against Dean's body, "Mm, want," he clenched his teeth, "want so much." Sam squirmed and writhed under Dean, though he forced himself to loosen his grip on his lover slightly, hazel eyes intent on Dean's face as he panted out his breaths, his hips thrusting hard against Dean's, one leg moving to wrap around one of Dean's, holding him there... just in case.

Dean nodded, brushing his thumb back and forth over Sam's mouth, watching him chase it... knowing full well that if he let him catch it, those extended fangs would be digging in him. "Let go... a little more," he said, moving his body. "Sam... I'm right here... swear."

Sam stared up at him, uncertainty evident in his hazel eyes as he swallowed hard, fingertips digging into Dean's flesh as he closed his eyes briefly. Opening them, he slowly relaxed his grip on Dean, letting his hands slide downward across Dean's shoulders. "Don't leave me." Sam told him as sudden panic gripped him when Dean started to move slightly.

"No, not leaving. Want you too, Sam," he answered, finally able to lift his body without interference, though his lover was watching him with the intensity of a cat about to pounce. He pushed Sam's legs apart, and pushing his own knees under Sam's thighs, lined his cock up to Sam's hole. Sitting on his knees, he leaned in towards Sam, biting his lip as his sensitive tip rubbed against his tightly puckered hole . "Won't hurt," he whispered, nudging against his hole again, then gripping Sam's hips, raising him slightly, he breached him with a single sharp thrust, burying himself to the hilt and hovering his throat over Sam's mouth.

Sam watched Dean intently, watched every move and ripple of muscle, his own body taut like a bow and ready to pounce if Dean didn't stay with him like he'd promised. At the feel of Dean's cock at his hole, Sam bit his lip, uncertainty in his eyes, even as his body started to push back against him, wanting, needing it.

As Dean pushed into him, Sam's lips parted, breaths gasping out, eyes wide. In the next second, his arms wrapped around Dean, pulling him in with force, mouth open, fangs elongated, sinking them deeply into Dean's jugular vein. Ribbons of crimson ran down Dean's neck before Sam could latch on properly, gulping in mouthfuls of his lover's blood.

Some part of Sam's mind screamed at him that he should be grossed out, should hate it, but he didn't. Dean's blood was sweet and spicy, warmed his body and sang through his own veins. All Sam knew was that he wanted more, needed more. His arms wrapping tightly around his lover, holding him as tight as he could, unwilling to release him, to give up what he'd found.

A groan tore out of the back of Dean's throat. Sam's bite was like an echoe of his own invasion of Sam's body, filling him with a lust for blood that competed with the needs of his body, even as he single mindedly pulled out and slammed back inside Sam, seeing white behind his eyelids. His lover was so damned tight... would always, for all time, be this tight around him. "Fuck..." Between feeling him lap at his throat, feeling Sam tug on him, and fucking Sam increasingly hard, Dean was going up in flames.

The scent of blood thickened in the air. The sound of Sam sucking on him, making sounds of pleasure, the way he bucked against him... it was so fucking heady... so erotic. It would be so easy to spin out of control, to forget where he was, and that Sam was a fledgling. So tempting.. the thought was tempting, but Dean kept pulling back from the edge, reminding himself Sam was a fledgling, that he wouldn't know when to stop, that in a frenzy, he could drain him. He didn't want to miss Christmas by being out for the count while he healed.

Sam's legs rose to wrap around Dean's waist as he held onto him, thrusting his hips upward and pushing back against Dean's cock, all the while he drank, lapping and sucking at his throat for all he was worth, low moans and groans sounding deep in his throat, eyes rolling up under lowered lids, fingertips digging into his lover's skin as he clung to him, straining beneath him.

Sam's increasingly erratic motions had Dean fucking harder. "Right here... right here," he reassured him. Palms flat on the floor on either side of Sam's shoulders, he pushed himself up each time he moved back, then rammed into his lover, moving like a well oiled piston. He started to test Sam, to pull away slightly, but felt him gripping tight, not allowing any space between Sam's mouth and his throat. "Don't you want to kiss me," he teased, though his voice came out strained as white hot heat lanced through him.

Sam moaned, but didn't answer, couldn't have at the moment if he'd wanted to. Lust and bloodlust swirling through his body, stealing away every coherent thought, just the knowledge that he needed, needed Dean like he had needed to breathe when he was human. One of Sam's arms moved, the motion jerky, as if he had to pry it off of Dean himself, sliding up to his lover's head, digits tangling in the short soft strands, his hand curling into a fist, pulling Dean's head more to the side as he tried to bury his face, his fangs deeper into Dean's neck.

Pleasure and pain had Dean groaning. He fought the need to take control, allowing Sam whatever he needed, how he needed it. He started to angle his thrusts, short and long, sometimes stopping the movement of his hips until he heard Sam's complaint, felt him push at him. He lapped at Sam's neck, licking his skin, his teeth scraping Sam's skin, the temptation to bite growing by the second. His own life essence was being drained, but he didn't want to take from Sam until he was coming. "Need you ... Sam, need you so bad," he whispered, one hand slipping between their bodies and closing around Sam's dick. He squeezed, then started stroking him, feeling him get harder in his closed fist, groaning as precum dripped through his fingers.

Sam groaned, hips thrusting hard forward, shoving his cock into Dean's fisted hand as he lapped hungrily at his throat. Feeling Dean move, shift slightly, Sam's eyes flew open a near growl sounding deep in his throat before his legs slid from around his lover and he rolled them in one quick fluid movement, pinning Dean under him as he thurst his hips forward, pushing back against the cock buried deep inside of him, the suction of his mouth on Dean's neck becoming more fierce.

"Sam... calm down... Sammy!" Dean gripped Sam's hips, still raising his own and fucking him hard, but feeling his life essence draining faster as Sam greedily fought to take it all. "You have to fight it, listen to me... slow the fuck down." Despite his words, his demands, the absolute need emanating from his lover, the lack of control, the almost predatorial moves Sam was using on him excited Dean in ways he'd never known. Every nerve ending in his body was firing. His cock grew impossibly harder inside Sam, as his lover rode him hard. "Fuck... Sam..." he gripped Sam's jaw, and squeezed hard. "Slow the fuck down... now."

All of the need, the fire that had been singing through his veins with the first taste of Dean's blood, suddenly seemed to rush low, pooling in Sam's belly with force, making his muscles tense and lock as he held onto Dean, arms like steel bands, fingertips digging hard into his flesh. Sam's eyes squeezed closed as he fought to continue to drink, even with Dean squeezing his jaw to try to make him slow. Slow wasn't want he wanted. His body rocked, thrusting his cock into Dean's fist, pressing back against his cock, as a low groan slowly grew from deep in Sam's throat, slowly building in volume as his balls drew up, his body bucking erractically, his hips forward, then pressing back. Sam cried out, the sound muffled against Dean's neck, as the first ribbon of spunk left his cock.

He hadn't expected Sam's almost violent reaction, but it pushed Dean over. Lust took control over his body, burned away every thought of safety and slowing down. Gripping the back of Sam's head, he sank his own fangs deep into the side of his lover's throat, groaning as tangy blood filled his mouth. Sam... his unique taste, sweet and hot and spicy... his scent filling Dean's nostrils had him wild. Lifting his hips harder, slamming his cock deep into his lover, he came hard and fast, violent shudders of pleasure rocking his body as he held onto Sam as greedily as Sam was holding onto him. His lover. His friend. His mate forever. There was nothing... nothing he could want more... nothing.

As Sam's orgasm slowly ebbed and ended, his muscles relaxed, a soft sound, nearly a sigh breaking from him as he collapsed down on top of Dean, though he continued to lap lazily at the site where his fangs remained embedded in Dean's neck, his tongue dancing acoss the sensitive flesh as he drank slowly.

It took Dean a while to wind down, then he slowly rolled them over again, his mouth never leaving Sam's throat. His blood surging into Sam's mouth, and Sam's in his... it felt like they were still fucking, only slower, taking their time. Groaning against Sam, he finally lifted away from his throat, and holding Sam's jaw once again, pulled up completely.

This time, his lover didn't fight him. He looked down into lust blown pupils, and blood red lips, and his stomach clenched tight. Dipping his head, he licked Sam's mouth, then slanted his over his lover's and tangled their tongues together in a long, heated kiss. They rolled over again, and again, tasting each other, touching and gripping, until Dean's back banged into the wall. Laughing, he broke the kiss. "You're a greedy sonovabitch... and I love you for it."

Sam smiled as hazel orbs searched his lover's handsome face as if seeing it for the first time. "If you didn't taste so good, feel so good, I wouldn't be," he told him softly before leaning in again to slant his mouth back over Dean's, moaning softly as their tongues tangled and stroked against one another, their hands sliding over naked flesh, mapping out, learning, caressing. Pulling back, Sam looked into Dean's jade eyes, "Merry Christmas."

"Yeah... yeah it is," Dean nodded, touching his forehead to Sam's. "Cause you're still here. So glad... so glad you went for it, Sam." He'd been worried, didn't know how he'd handle it if Sam refused his offer. "Now we can do all those things you wanted. Travel, see places. You can drag me into museums, and I'll show you the best gambling places and... I guess we won't be doing whorehouses," he chuckled. "Clubs... with sexy music and dark corners and ... you."

Sam smiled and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he looked at Dean. "Sounds good." He tightened his arms around Dean, pulling him closer, "And then what? I think we'll run out of museums, and gambling places before long," he told him, leaning in to brush his lips across Dean's. "Maybe we'll go camping," his voice grew huskier, softer. "...When it's cold... with just one sleeping bag between us. I don't think our dads will interrupt this time."

"I'd like that... a lot," Dean answered, his hand stroking Sam's hair, sweeping over his ear and the side of his throat. "Like a re-do of that night. This time there won't be any stopping." He kissed Sam again, because he couldn't resist. "Besides... we hardly use a bed." It was true, almost every time they made love, they somehow seemed to end up on the floor.

Sam smiled as he gave a slight one shouldered shrug. "It's cause I'm so big," then this words dawned on him and had heat rising to Sam's face, a slight blush stealing over his cheeks. "Tall, I meant -" he licked his lips and tore his gaze away, smiling shyly, "nevermind."

"Big n' tall... yeah, I can vouch for that," Dean agreed, nudging his body against Sam's for emphasis.

Sam's blush deepened a shade as he leaned closer to Dean, trying to hide his face against him. He wasn't sure if vampire's usually blushed or not, but for some reason he wouldn't be surprised if it was just him. It seemed to be something he was cursed with from birth.

"So... if you're not too tired from molesting and eating me... I'm taking you to the movies later today. Figured the theaters will be nice and empty and we can do whatever we want..."


Sam pulled his head up, eyes widening, "Molesting and - I did not molest or eat you. I -" he pressed his lips together as he thought about it, nostrils flaring. "Okay, fine, but I didn't eat you... I drank you. It's different," he said with a near pout, rolling over onto his back, pulling one of Dean's arms over with him and bringing his lover's wrist to his mouth, darting out, the tip slowly tracing over the vein. "Is it horrible if I don't think I ever want us to get dressed again? We could just stay here, on the floor where I can molest and drink you when I want to." Sam mumbled the question softly.

His gaze slid over to Dean's face, though his tongue continued to trace the vein in his wrist, pausing only to ask, "What movie?" before continuing on.

"Why do I feel like the moth being toyed with by the cat?" Dean asked, his gaze laser focused on Sam who seemed to be mesmerized by his vein. "Movie... right, a real sexy movie, you'll like it. Twilight. It's about us... vampires... only, the Disney version," he chuckled, his laughter trailing off as Sam's tongue reached the inside of his elbow. "If you drink me... prepare to be molested," he said in a mock threatening voice.

Sam glanced at Dean, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Oh, I'm scare,." he teased softly, returning his attention to the vein in Dean's arm, tongue pulsing against it a few times, before his fangs slowly broke through the skin, a low moan tearing from Sam's throat as Dean's blood rushed into his mouth.

Biting his lower lip, Dean watched Sam for a few moments, loving the look of sheer ecstacy on his face. "Oh... you should be," he answered, reaching out and closing his hand around Sam's cock. "You really, really should be." His own smirk firmly in place, he merely held Sam, waiting for the blood lust to turn to lust, and drive him crazy with need. Feeling Sam start to squirm, he mused out loud. "Maybe we'll pass on the matinee, and go at night, hmm?"


Sam moaned, squirming and bucking his hips as he nodded his head, mouth securely latched onto Dean's arm.

Laughing, Dean let Sam have his arm, but started to make his way down his body, kissing, licking and teasing. All the while, his hand was perfectly still around Sam's cock, almost earning him a knee in his groin. "Patience... Or you're getting a lump of coal."

Sam's eyes had been closed, but now opened to glare up at Dean as he made a sound of frustration, brow furrowing. Sam's grip tightened on Dean's wrist as he reached for his lover with his free hand, palm sliding over the skin of Dean's shoulder as Sam slowly closed his eyes once more.

Feeling that heavy hand shove him down, Dean chuckled again. "Okay, okay... I'm molesting you, I'm molesting you..." Slowly