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Chapter Text

“He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights


"Time for your pill," the orderly said and placed a small cup in his hand. The cup contained one blue and green capsule of what he suspected was some kind of SSRI content. Not that he really needed it, but he suspected they gave it to all the patients in the ward to keep their moods up.

Five months ago, when he first got here, he had been pretty banged up and in an almost delirious state. It was almost impossible to grasp that the frantically kicking, fighting man they told him he was back then was the same calm, brooding man that stood now thoughtfully looking out the window. The contrast was almost surreal, he thought to himself as he was admiring the different shades of greens in the garden outside.

He brushed his long brown hair out of his face and, for what felt like the thousandth time, reflected; were it not for the bars on the windows, one could almost forget this was a mental institution altogether. Well, the bars and the daily pills he didn't need, that is...

When he came here a few months ago, he hadn't really been in great shape. He could admit that these days. Nowadays, though, he felt fine. Except for the fact that he had no recollection of his life the past few years. Nor much of his life before that, either, if he were to be totally honest…

He remembered that he was a hunter of supernatural beings, but he stopped telling people about that. He quickly realized that the doctors stared at him strangely when he did. Talking about supernatural creatures was actually what kept him locked up in this place. That, and the fact that he couldn't remember his own name. Or where he came from.

For lack of a proper name, they have started to call him John—as in John Doe, he imagined. He was sure it wasn’t his real name, though. It had a familiar ring to it, but didn't really fit with what he imagined his name would be. He found it strange that he could actually have an opinion on that, as almost everything was all blurry and forgotten.

Still, he had glimpses here and there... Well, not so much glimpses as feelings. Feelings that told him there are shallow traces of memories there. Memories that have somehow been wiped out, erased like someone TippExed them out.

It was as if all memories of childhood and growing up was swept away. He had a feeling he had memories like that, but he couldn't seem to access them anymore. Neither could he make sense of the few glimpses of adult life he actually did have. He didn't seem to have any memories at all of the last few years before he ended up here at the ward.

The only thing he knew for sure was that his life had been full of training and hunting the creatures he no longer spoke of. He supposed he had a family; a mother and father, like everyone else. He just couldn't remember their names... or even what they looked like.

It had become more and more frustrating to deal with over the months. The doctors were puzzled, but won't say it straight to his face. It seemed his kind of amnesia was partial, almost in the same way that traumatized victims sometimes suppress memories. He had no memory of being traumatized, though.

Even if he was pretty banged up when they had found him wandering the streets of Chicago, he wouldn't have considered his injuries bad enough to actually be traumatizing. He had a feeling he’d suffered worse in his hunting career and he seemed to remember all those occasions well enough. So, he and the doctors were very puzzled, but they don't know what else to do now. They had tried to jog his memory, using just about every technique available without results. Now, they just hoped that time would do wonders and that his memory would one day come back to him.

He also had memories of studying at, what he thinks is college. But those images don't make sense to him. If he studied at college, why do all his recollections seem to be of scruffy motel rooms and a less privileged life? If he went to college, it would seem he would work with something else than hunting monsters? Wouldn't it? Yet, he had excellent reflexes and fighting skills (something he figured out during one of his fits when he was first brought there), and he seemed to know a lot about the creatures he no longer speaks of.

He had been there several months now and was starting to get really frustrated. He found it very disturbing that he could recall the anatomy of the werewolf perfectly fine, yet he had absolutely no idea how he acquired that information...

The doctors had assured him that his memory would start coming back in small portions, over time, if he just was patient. Well, it hadn't. Not really; only the things that the doctors didn't want to hear about came back to him. Lots of creepy creatures trying to have a go at him, or other innocent people. People he had tried to save.

Nothing about his name or who he really was. Nothing to give a clue to if he had a family or relatives. In a sense, he was grateful the doctors had decided him really crazy and locked him up in this mental institution for his own and others’ safety. Out in the real world, he had a feeling he wouldn't last a day, having no money and no relatives. This ward was the only world that existed for him these days. He spent his days reading and helping out with stuff around the place. He was a trusted patient and the attendants often asked him to help out with the daily chores.

He was friendly with the other patients and, during his time there made quite a lot of good friends.There was Nina the manic-depressive redhead. And there was Garry, the awkward asperger kid. Both have become dear friends to him. With Nina he actually felt comfortable enough to share his memories of being a hunter of the supernatural.

Nina was open minded and, most of the time, a franticly happy influence in his life. She was pretty and lovely, and obviously attracted to him, yet he didn't feel physically attracted to her. He imagined his disinterest in her was due to that fact that she just wasn't his type, but given that she was just about every mans type, he really didn't know what to make of it.

That was another strange thing about this amnesia thing; he could recollect having sex with women, even fuzzy memories of living with a woman in college, but he couldn't seem to recall her name. Sometimes, he had a feeling, like it was on the tip of his tongue. He thought it began with a “J”, but didn't ever get beyond that first letter. Based on those memories, he thought he was mainly attracted to women, but for some reason he doesn't find any of the women on the ward attractive. None of the men either… It's as if he is just not interested in sex at all.

He wondered if maybe it was because of the medications they are given. He had read that loss of libido was one of the side effects of SSRI-medication. He really doesn't ponder any more on the subject until the day there was a new patient on the ward...

Chapter Text

The new patient was another John Doe, apparently. Transferred from Boston to this facility since they specialized in memory loss. He was introduced to him as “Dylan”, and they got to talking immediately, comparing notes on their memory loss. It quickly became apparent that they seemed to suffer almost the same kind of amnesia. Dylan didn't remember his past few years, or his childhood either.

“How do you know your name is Dylan, then?” Sam asked curiously as they sat down for lunch in the dining hall.

“I don't really,” Dylan admitted, shrugging one shoulder. “It was someone who found me wandering the streets of Boston, said I looked like a ‘Dylan’, and it kind of felt a bit familiar so I stuck with it.”

Sam nodded in agreement; he did look like a ‘Dylan’ and somehow it did fit, he pondered to himself.

"What do I look like?” he asked, before quickly adding “ be named that is,” he clarified with a bit of a blush coming on. Shit, this guy made him nervous in a strange way that he never experienced before (not that he could remember anyway).

“Hmm, that is a tough one,” Dylan said, looking John over. “I seriously don't know. Seoul? Rick? David? Yeah, Dave! I think... it's not really right for you, but it's better than John, anyway,” Dylan said with piercing green eyes meeting Sam’s in a way that made him all tingly.

“David? Dave?” Sam repeated, like he was tasting the name. He shook his head, "Nah, I don't think so. Doesn't feel quite right... I'd better stick to John for now. At least I'm used to it," he said with a concerned look while chasing some peas on his plate. He hoped it wasn't obvious, but not having a name really bothered him. He really wanted to have a name that fit him, a comfortable name that felt natural like ‘Dylan’ fit Dylan across from him.

Weeks went by, and he and Dylan quickly became friends that spent almost all spare time together. Out in the garden or in the recreational area. Something that Nina wasn't late commenting on. Perhaps he could pick up a bit of a jealous pang in her words, but he tried to ignore it. She had been on his back with insinuations and comments almost since the first week Dylan came here. Now that the leaves on the trees in the garden started to turn yellow, she obviously couldn't rein in her curiosity and jealousy any longer.

“...So?” Nina said, trying for casual but missing it by a mile. “Have you guys kissed yet or what?” Nina blurted out one day when they sat looking at some stupid daytime show on TV.

“What? No, of course not!” He answered a bit more defensively than necessary. This was just Nina's usual badgering, but he felt as if she had caught him with a hand in the cookie jar. Because truth be told he'd done nothing less over the last few weeks but think about what it would be like to kiss Dylan. He spent his nights tossing in bed fantasizing about Dylan and the days secretly admiring his beautiful features.

Truth was, he spent more or less every waking moment thinking about the new patient. A guy that apparently had awoken his libido in a very unexpected way.

He had even stopped taking his daily pill, as he started having a feeling it dulled him in a way that he didn't want to be when around this new fascinating friend of his. He snuck the medication away and flushed it first chance he got. After a few weeks he actually started feeling a bit more like himself—whatever that was. He wasn't so sure any more, but he felt better.

It felt like there was a special bond between him and Dylan; something beyond friendship. The man had a comforting effect on him that he hadn't experienced around anyone else, at least not that he could remember.

No doubt that he was attracted to the man, and he had a feeling the attraction wasn't purely one sided. And judging by Nina's reaction, the mutual attraction was visible also to others. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of it, though… As far as he knew, he was straight, but when it came to Dylan he most certainly wasn't. He couldn't seem to make sense of the conflicting impulses in his mind.

If he was gay, bisexual or whatever... why did he have the feeling that he wasn't allowed to act on his impulses towards Dylan?

He considered himself to be a fairly open minded guy, and didn't think it was the idea of being gay that kept him from acting on his attraction. Yet, there was something holding him back and he couldn't figure out what it was exactly. So, the two of them hung out together all the time with obvious electricity sparking between them, but neither of them acted on it.

One day as they were playing poker in the common room with another intern, an activity that both of them seemed to be equally good at. So good, in fact, that most of the other patients had given up on playing with them a long time ago. Today however they were playing with a guy they didn't know very well, and apparently this guy didn't handle losing as well as one would have hoped for. In fact, the guy had a violent fit all of a sudden and got up from his chair, prepared to take a swing at him.

“Sam! Watch out!” Dylan shouted, quickly getting out of his chair, reacting to the guy’s threats.

John reacted instantly and effectively blocked the guy’s punch. Dylan was on the guy’s back immediately, restraining any further attempts on attacking him. Two orderlies quickly reacted to the commotion and took the violently screaming and kicking patient off Dylan's hands.

It had all played out in mere seconds and now they both stood there, shell-shocked and panting slightly from the adrenaline rush.

“That’s some reflexes you have there,” Dylan finally said, breaking the slightly awkward silence and stared at John with confusion.

“Thanks, I guess…” John said, shrugging his shoulders. He glanced at Dylan from the corner of his eye, “You’re not so bad yourself,” he replied, feeling and sounding every bit as confused as Dylan seemed to be. “Wait—Why did you shout ‘Sam’?” he added as it suddenly dawned upon him that it sounded very familiar. In fact, it sounded so familiar that he had to sit down, his legs suddenly feeling weak. He continued, “I–I think that’s my real name.”

Chapter Text

“What?” Dylan gaped. “...Is ‘Sam’ your real name?” he asked and looked at him startled, but John only shrugged, eyes still wide with shock. “I don't know man? It just... jumped out like a reflex when I saw what was about to happen,” he continued as he too sat down when the adrenalin was leaving his body. He was starting to shake and tucked his trembling hands in his armpits to hide it.

“Yeah, I think Sam is my real name,” he said thoughtfully. “Sam Winchester, actually!” he replied with a puzzled look. It was the strangest feeling of epiphany. From one second to the other—it was just there. The certainty and the knowledge that his name was Sam, Sam Winchester.

He felt a rush of joy running through his body and he all of a sudden reached out and wrapped Dylan up in a grateful hug, even if it was a bit awkward since they were still sitting.

Dylan stiffened for a second before returning the hug, holding it a lot longer than necessary. Neither of them seemed willing to break the intimacy, and when Dylan finally drew back slowly and reluctantly, Sam found himself hesitantly pressing his lips against Dylan’s. Dylan gasped startled but answered and met his kiss. Hesitantly to begin with but soon opened up and met his kiss with determination.
They kissed deeply for a second before Sam suddenly drew back with wet lips and pupils blown wide, looking around the room to see if they had been observed. Fortunately, it seemed the room was almost empty.

"Shit! Sorry man… I – I don't know what happened there," Sam panted in a low embarrassed voice, before Dylan drew him in again for another, more controlled kiss this time, clearly wanting this as much as he himself wanted it.

Sudden movement in the room had them break away, though. They looked at each other with obvious want in their eyes, disappointment of getting interrupted clearly visible as well.

“Don't worry, I wanted this,” Dylan said. “Fuck, I wanted this since the first time I saw you,” he admitted, as he placed a hand on Sam's thigh and squeezed it reassuringly, and gave Sam a beautiful, if slightly embarrassed, smile.

The common room started to fill up with more people, and Dylan's focus shifted. “Uh, so... Sam Winchester, is it?” John—No, Sam—nodded. “This is amazing news! You should have them check up on the name for you. Maybe you have family out there looking for you?” Dylan pointed out with a smile, a hint of distress in his eyes.

Sam looked at him and realized that it was true; he could very well have family out there. This could actually be the beginning of the end at the ward. That thought scared him more than a bit, and judging from the look on Dylan's face it scared him, too.

Sam revealed his new learnings to his doctor a few days later and Dr. Brown promised to check up on his name and see what they could find out about him. Sam hoped that his surname wasn't that common that it wouldn’t be too hard to find out anything. Since he had no real clue to as where in the country he originally came from, there was really no way of narrowing it down, either.

He tried to not get his hopes up, and didn't really expect much to come of it.

They didn't talk about the kiss, but a few days later it happened again. This time in an secluded nook of one of the endless corridors of the ward. They had made a habit of walking the corridors of the ward, talking about everything that sprung to mind. Sam had told Dylan about his memories of hunting supernatural creatures. But Instead of getting the questioning, disturbed look he was expecting, Dylan had just nodded knowingly.

“I knew it! We know each other! We have to—there can't really be that many hunters like us out there. Can there?” Dylan asked and stopped walking, mid-stride, looking at Sam with an excited look on his face.

“W–What? Are you saying you’re a hunter too?” Sam stuttered. That was just too much of a coincidence for him to grasp right now.

“Yeah! I'm a hunter too,” Dylan said and grinned. “That explains so much…” he continued, mostly to himself, and suddenly fell silent, as if he realized something he shouldn't share.

“What does it explain?” Sam blurted out, still too puzzled about the revelation that he didn't really notice the awkwardness on Dylan's face until it was too late…

All of a sudden the normally so cocky self assured Dylan turned nervous before his eyes.

"Uh… I thought maybe it explained how I feel about you,” Dylan said in a low voice, looking intensely at something very interesting on the floor, not raising his eyes until many heartbeats went by.

This time Sam didn’t falter in picking up on the tension and the awkwardness before he takes a deep calming breath, trying to collect himself and get his thoughts organized.

“So, you also have this feeling we know each other, maybe more intimately than just friends?” he asked as he very boldly stepped into Dylan's personal space. He waited for Dylan to grasp what was happening before leaning close enough to let his breath wash over Dylan's pink lush lips for a moment before meeting those distracting lips with his own. After the initial confusion, the kiss was soon met with the same passion he himself poured into it. In a flurry of action,they found themselves pressed up against the wall of the secluded nook, making out like teenagers.

"Fuck! I wanted this so bad," Dylan panted against Sam's throat as he kissed his way over Sam's tilted chin. “Can't think of much else these days,” he added before catching Sam's lips again.

Unfortunately, they hear footsteps approaching in the hallway and quickly break away from each other and start to walk as ‘casually’ as possible towards more populated parts of the ward again. Both men clearly flushed from their recent activity.

“I feel the same way, obviously!” Sam said, letting out a nervous chuckle nodding towards the place they just left behind them. “...But it's strange that I can't recall ever being with a man before. If I'm gay, bi or whatever?”

“Yeah, I know, right!” Dylan said, nodding along, he knew exactly what Sam meant. “Whatever it is you are to me, you are very special—that's the only thing I'm certain of. That and the fact that I'm really into girls. Like… really into girls,” Dylan added with a suggestive wide grin.

It was obvious that Dylan was into girls; he had been hitting on everything in a skirt since the first day he got here. Sam suspected there weren't really that many unmarried females left on this floor that he hadn't already slept with (or was about to).

“I actually think I may be married or something,” Dylan suddenly admitted with a serious look on his face. “I have glimpses of this woman and a kid. I just can't make any real sense of it though… I don't have a wedding ring, and quite frankly I don't seem to be the type who has that apple pie life, you know?” he added with a sad smile.

"Yeah, I know what you mean,” Sam agreed with a nod. “I have these glimpses of going to college, and even living together with a woman for a while, but it seems life on the road has somewhat been the predominant feature in my life, too. It doesn't make any sense. Like this, what we have here,” Sam said and gestured between them. “It feels like the most natural thing in the world. Yet, I have this strong nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I'm not allowed to have you. Maybe it's because I'm married too? I don't know, but it’s very disturbing.”

"Yeah, man I have that same feeling. Like you are forbidden fruit or something” Dylan said in a low voice, checking their environment for observers before placing a quick kiss on Sam's lips.

"Yeah, so anyway, everything you have told me so far indicates that we have some common shared history down the line. We seem to have had the same kind of crappy life on the road, but that may be true of all hunters, I don't know," Sam said after the short peck from Dylan on his lips.

He would have given anything to be able to extend that kiss, somewhere in private. He couldn't seem to get enough of his newfound friend’s lips. They were intoxicating, and he spent almost every waking hour thinking about them or reminiscing just how good they had felt on his lips the other day. He found himself seriously falling for this guy.

He was sure they had known each other before they met here; he figured they had been really close friends, or even lovers, in the former life neither of them seemed to remember. As they continued to compare notes on their amnesia, it also became more and more obvious that their partial amnesia couldn't be just a strange coincidence.

They had discussed it on many occasions and both agreed that whatever it was causing their amnesia it had to somehow be involved in them being hunters. They agreed that they needed to research this, but also recognised that it would be very hard doing any research as long as they were locked up in the ward. They didn't really have any access to the books they needed to consult or have any access to internet.

But most of all what kept them from cracking this mystery was the fact that they didn't really know who they were.

Sam at least got a bit closer to solving the mystery a few days later at his weekly session with Dr. Brown She looked a bit concerned when Sam entered her office and he sensed this couldn't be good news.

Chapter Text

"So, Sam Winchester, is it?" Dr. Brown asked as they began their session.

“Yes!” Sam agreed excitedly. “I'm pretty sure it is my name. My real name, that is," he answered a bit nervously. "Have you found anything? Uh, about me? Family?" he continued, nervously fingering the sleeve of his shirt.

"Well, it's not really that easy to find someone if you don't have anything more to go by than a name. We didn't have an area where we thought you had lived," the doctor explained, seeing how Sam's hopeful eyes lost some of their shine. "We actually were about to give up on it altogether when it suddenly hit me that you remembered going to college. That, at least, gave us some way to narrow things down a bit. That and given an approximate age actually gave us only five hits,” she added, holding up a thin folder.

“I think I will need your help screening these five though, because I seem to be stuck. Are you sure you have no more information than your name?" she asked curiously. “Sometimes, remembering one detail often unlocks a whole cluster of memories—like a social security number or home address, for example. Are you sure there is no more information?” she asked him, getting a head shake in the negative as an answer.

She held out a sheet of paper towards him, nodding for him to take it. “These are the names we narrowed it down to. Can you have a look at the information and see if we can rule out a few more?"

Sam grabbed the paper and looked at the information. He quickly ruled out number one on the list as it stated him to have five siblings. He didn't feel like he had had a lot of siblings. He couldn't explain why, but he was pretty sure he was an only child or only had one brother or sister. He informed Dr. Walker of his thoughts, and she nodded in agreement.

He looked further down the list and his eyes got caught on ‘Sam Winchester’, with a father named John and a mother named Mary. He reflected out loud that maybe that was why the name John had seemed so familiar to him. This guy had went to Stanford, though, so he fairly quickly ruled that option out. It seemed unlikely that someone in his line of trade had gone to Stanford. Besides, he couldn't imagine how he could have afforded that school. He didn't remember his childhood, but something told him they hadn't been wealthy enough to send him off to one of the country's most prestigious schools.

Besides, it stated that his parents were dead and that his only living relative was a brother. Somehow he had hoped that if he had relatives alive, they would be out there looking for him. But, maybe, they weren't that close?

He sighed and returned the paper to the doctor, apologizing with an embarrassed smile for not being more helpful

“Don't worry, Sam,” Dr. Walker was quick to assure him. “At least we ruled out one name on the list. We can still try locating the rest of them and rule them out by finding them, so not all hope is lost yet. You just have to wait a bit longer for that kind of information,” she told him in an attempt to comfort the clearly disappointed man in front of her.

Later, he filled Dylan in on the meager results of the name search. Dylan tried to comfort him, but Sam just couldn't hide his disappointment; he’d had had such high hopes for this. Finding out who he was had become the single most important thing to him over the months he spent here. It was what had kept him afloat, the thought that somewhere out there he had a family, somewhere where he belonged. Someone who was looking for him.

“Okay, so you didn't find out about any family out there, but maybe we should go about this another way? Maybe we should start with what we do remember, and work the puzzle from there?” Dylan said with a hopeful look at Sam. “We’re both hunters. Right? We both suffer almost identical amnesia. Right?”

Sam nodded in agreement with each point, a spark of interest lit in his eyes. He had followed this line of thought before but thought it seemed a bit too surreal to consider as facts.

“What if our amnesia wasn't caused by trauma? What if this was caused by some supernatural being?” Sam interrupted excitingly.

“Yeah! Some kind of being,” Dylan filled in. “We just don't know what kind. The only supernatural beings I know of off the top of my head able to pull this kind of thing off are angels and high level demons. And quite frankly, I'm not even really sure angels really exist,” he continued.

“We really need access to a computer,” Sam answered. The wheels turning in his head was almost visible.

"I think maybe we can distract the night nurse long enough for you to do some searches online” Dylan stated with a wide grin. “I think she has a thing for me,” he continued with a smug smile and a lewd wink.

All the nurses have a thing for you” Sam stated, not quite able to hide the jealous twang. He really didn't want to think about the way that Dylan had charmed just about any female—and some of the male—orderlies and nurses around here. He felt a possessiveness towards Dylan that he was aware he had no right to. There had only been the occasional kissing and making out between them, he really had no right feeling this way about the man. It wasn't like he was his boyfriend or anything. Dylan had every right to flirt with whomever he wanted to, but Sam couldn't seem to help himself; he was falling real hard for this guy.

“Hey! C‘mon,” Dylan said, nudging Sam’s shoulder. “It's not like i'm going to sleep with her or anything—just distract her long enough so that you can do some research,” he stated when Sam obviously hadn't been able to hide his feelings good enough.

A few evenings later the perfect opportunity revealed itself and Sam and Dylan went to work on their plan to ‘borrow’ the computer in the night nurse's office. Dylan had lured her away to his room under some false pretence. As soon as they left, Sam picked the lock to the office and eased in. (He really didn't want to think about how he knew how to do such things and just focused on ‘waking’ the computer and getting the browser open.)

He quickly googled the creatures he and Dean had put up on the short list of creatures possibly responsible for the amnesia they experienced. And so far, he was coming up with a big fat nothing. He had to quit the research when he heard some laughing and talking in the corridor closing in. He quickly shut down the computer and snuck outside just in time to meet Dylan and the nurse. Dylan, with a cat-like smug expression on his face, as if he just caught a mouse.

Sam felt his stomach turn at the sight, but managed to get a nearly visible headshake across as a sign to Dylan that things hadn't worked out the way they had planned.

“Dude! What happened?” Dylan asked as soon as the nurse was out of hearing range.

"Didn't find anything,” Sam said with an annoyed huff. “I'm going to need a lot more time with that computer if I'm to figure this out. What I really need though isn't online. I need the antique books on these creatures, but I don't know where to find those," he complained as they made their way through the corridors. “Whatever did this to us, I doubt we will find it online. We need a specific old book—I know what it looks like. I even know most of its content, but what I don't know is where to find it.”

He mused that a surprisingly lot of information in his brain was like that these days; the knowledge was there, he just didn't seem to know how to find its original sources anymore. He sighed in frustration.

“Would it help if you could have a full night with the computer?” Dylan asked looking at Sam with hopeful eyes.

Sam could see where this was heading, and quickly answered, "No!" with perhaps a bit more emphasis than needed. “I can't ask you to pimp yourself out just so that we may or may not find anything more on this case,” he added, hoping that his explanation sounded believable. Besides, it wasn't all a lie; he couldn't be sure he'd find anything more, even though the odds would certainly improve if he could have a few hours alone time with a computer.

“Okay, okay,” Dylan said soothingly, “I was just asking. No need to go all ‘mister morality’ on me,” he said, a puzzled look on his face.


“So, Sam! I think I have found out who you really are,” Dr. Brown said with wide smile on her face at their next meeting. She handed over a paper to him. “This was the only name on the list that was unaccounted for. And judging by what you have told me, I think it probably is a quite good match,” she added, tilting her head towards the paper. “Apparently, you went to Stanford with a full scholarship! Something that doesn't really surprise me, given what I've seen of you so far. You are no doubt an intelligent young man!”

Sam looked at the paper with the detailed information confirming what she had just told him, and suddenly felt like he was about to throw up.

“It seems you have a brother,” Dr. Brown continued on, oblivious to Sam’s growing unease. “We’re trying to locate him as we speak. When we find him, you need to prepare yourself for life out there in the real world. I really cannot see any reason for keeping you locked up here. now that you are no longer delusional. If we can only find any relatives of yours, you will do fine out there,” she said with a smile. That faded quickly when she saw the pale face of the patient in front of her. “Sam! What’s the matter? Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

“No, no,” Sam said quickly, shaking his head. “I'm fine. Just a bit... overwhelmed that's all,” he said with a strained smile, wishing to get out of her office as quickly as possible. Something that was clearly obvious to the doctor when she nodded and put her usual pad away.

“Yes, yes of course,” Dr. Brown readily agreed. “We can cut the session short for today. I guess it is kind of overwhelming finally finding out who you are after such a long time. Go get something to eat and some water to get your bearings again okay?” She followed him to the door, clearly signaling that today's meeting was over

Chapter Text

“So, Dylan! I've been thinking—maybe we should try your proposal from the other night, anyway. Distracting the night nurse for a few hours I mean… “ Sam said a few hours after the revelation in Dr Brown’s office.

“Yeah? Really? You think it would help?” Dylan asked with an enthusiastic expression in his eyes.

Sam nodded. “Yes, I think I could be able find out where to find the book I need, if I could just have a few hours with the computer.”

“Great!” Dylan enthused, clapping his hands and rubbing them excitedly. “When do we get down to business?” he asked, whispering when an orderly passed them. He glanced at Sam curiously, “What made you change your mind, anyway? You didn't seem so keen on the idea last time…” he trailed off, looking thoughtful. “Maybe you’re not that into me any more?” Dylan added in a teasing voice and placed a kiss on Sam's neck that made the other man gasp before pulling away.

“Uh! Stop it! Someone can see us,”Sam angry-whispered, looking around nervously. He put a few inches of distance between him and Dylan.

“That didn't seem to bother you before,” Dylan pointed out and closed the distance between them, pushing his groin against Sam’s. Making his intentions clear as he grinded his arousal into Sam's thigh.

Sam helplessly grinded his pelvis back with a hushed growl before firmly pushing Dylan away from him. “Fuck, Dean! We can't do this, get away from me! ...okay?”

Dylan looked at him with confusion and hurt. “Look, man, I don't know what your problem is or what side of the bed you woke up on this morning, but I'm not into playing games. You better get your act straight because I really don't know what to make of this,” he said with hurt in his voice, gesturing between them.

He paused, lips pursed. “Besides, who the fuck is Dean? Some lover who fucked you up or something? I really don't appreciate you going all ‘Jack Nicholson’ on me right now.”

“Which one? ‘Cuckoos Nest’ or ‘Shining’?” Sam joked, hoping Dylan would drop the ‘him acting strange’ conversation. He really wasn't up to arguing with him right now. Dylan just stared back, though, and huffed.

“Look, can we not do this right now? I'm really tired and I think I'm coming down with something. Don't want you to catch it, that‘s all. Okay?“ Sam explained in resignation.

And finally it seemed Dylan was going to drop the conversation. Sam scurried off toward his room as quickly as possible after the awkward incident.

There was some obvious tension between him and Dylan after his strange behavior, but they put all awkwardness aside for the benefit of executing their plan the next evening.

Apparently, Dylan had no trouble luring the nurse away this time either. Sam was able to get hours of undisturbed research done in the nurse's absence. He tried very hard to not think about what was going on between Dylan and the nurse in some part of the ward. Instead, he distracted himself with finding the information needed.

At midnight, he heard the sound of a dropped tray in the hallway and was quick to get out of the office; that was the agreed signal for him to retreat. He headed back to his room and there was a soft knock on the door a few moments later.

Dylan sneaked into his room quietly and looked at Sam expectantly. "So... What did you find?" he asked in a low voice, walking past Sam and into the room.

"I think I found out whom might have the books we need,” Sam said. “Some private collector of occult books. Lives here in Chicago, actually. If one of us could just get out of this place we could ask nicely if we are allowed to botanize in his library. If we are allowed to go on permission leave that is..." Sam explained with excitement. He was pretty enthusiastic about his findings, and was quite sure he would be able to find the information needed in this connoisseur's library.

"Awesome!" Dylan answered with a huge grin. "Then tonight was totally worth it!" He added stepping closer to Sam

“Um, Yes! Totally worth it! Mixing business with pleasure," Sam added not quite able to hide how he felt about that last part...

Dylan stepped even closer. “Well, during the pleasure part, I was thinking of you the whole time," he said with a implicative smile in a low and seductive voice as he slid one arm around Sam's waist, pulling him into a hot kiss.

Sam was startled by the kiss but couldn't help but return it with passion as he felt Dylan's hands stroking up and down his torso while whispering "I was thinking of this and what your cock would feel like in my mouth," Dylan panted, one hand stroking the bulge in Sam's jeans.

Sam couldn't hold back a gasp of pleasure and surprise when Dylan undid the top button in his jeans while licking his way into his mouth. He had to muster up an willpower he had no idea he possessed to break away from the arousing man. The man who was shamelessly pressing his gorgeous body against him. But he did break away a few seconds later.

"Fuck! Dean, you have to stop this," Sam stated in a voice that sounded much sterner than he thought he could muster up right now. He pushed Dylan off him and stalked over to the bed, sat down and hiding his face in his hands.

Dylan stood, shell-shocked, exactly where Sam had left him, staring strangely at Sam before realizing what had just happened. “Jesus! Sam what the fuck is wrong with you? No one is here, no one can see us here—and don't give me that crap about coming down with something. 'Cause I don't buy it, okay? And stop calling me Dean, for crying out loud!” he added in an angry voice

"But, it's your name," Sam said almost whispering in reply to the furious outbreak from the man in front of him. After a deep breath he continued "It's your name. –Dean Winchester."

Dylan had quieted in an attempt to hear what Sam said in that low tone of voice, barely able to hear the whisper even in the quiet of the ward after-hours. He had a few moments in silence in order to come to grip with what he just think he heard.

"Winchester? As in Sam Winchester?" he added in disbelief. He got only a nod in reply from the shattered man on the bed, before he turned around and walked silently out of the room.

Chapter Text

Sam was left devastated on the bed. He wanted to run after him, but it was after curfew, and all patients were supposed to be in their rooms sleeping. Besides, he didn't really know what to say. There was no way to soften this blow, or explain himself.

There wasn't that much to explain, really. He had known as soon as he laid eyes on the paper in Dr. Brown's office. He had know that the brother stated as “Dean” was, in fact, Dylan.

He still had no recollection of Dean in his life, but It had to be him, given the stated age of his brother and their shared unusual line of business. It had to be some kind of family business...

He tried not to think of exactly how much of a family business it had almost become, and once again felt the nausea welling up in his stomach. A feeling he was quite familiar with by now. He sighed deeply and decided to get some sleep, even though he highly doubted he would actually get any.

Dean didn't show up for breakfast the morning after. Sam figured he was avoiding him. He didn't blame him. He figured he needed some time coming to terms with the facts, so he didn't seek him out that morning. In fact, he didn't seek him out even when Dean didn't show up for lunch or dinner either.

Not until next morning, when Dean once again didn't show for breakfast, did he muster up the courage to knock on Dean's door. Sam felt avoidance was undoubtedly one way of dealing with the problem in a 'non dealing' way, but he seriously doubted they would be able to avoid each other forever staying in the same ward. That was why he decided to talk things out with Dean. If they would have any chance of figuring out what caused their mutual amnesia they would have to work together.

Besides, they were brothers. Sam really wanted his only existing family to be part of his life, no matter how strange the feelings he had for that family. He took a fortifying breath and knocked on the door.

“Yes?” an irritated voice came from the room.

“Dean! It's me, Sam. We really need to talk about this. Let me in will you?” Sam could almost hear how reluctant Dean was to letting him in by the slow shuffling footsteps he heard behind the door. After what felt like minutes, the door opened and Dean’s embarrassed form gestured for him to come inside.

Sam, who had used up all his courage just knocking on Deans door, didn't really know what to say now that he stood in Dylan’s room—his brother, Dean’s, room he corrected himself. He needed to remind himself of that almost every time he laid eyes on Dean.

He stood there in the middle of the room shifting his weight awkwardly and wishing he hadn't knocked on this particular door. What was wrong with avoidance anyway? Maybe he could still walk out of there, pretend nothing happened?

“Okay. So, now you’re here. What do you want to talk about?” Dean asked in a defensive, aggressive voice.

Dean knew very well what Sam wanted to talk about, but obviously he was intent on making this even harder than it already was for Sam. Sam took a deep breath and walked over to sit at the edge of Dean's bed.

“How are you, Dean?” Sam asked, trying to steady his glare. Hoping he looked much more comfortable than he really was.

"Oh, let's see?” Dean started, tone sarcastic. “Apparently, my name is Dean. And for the last few months I have have been thinking about fucking my brother—in that bed, against that wall, and on that desk,” he said, pointing around the room in sharp jabs with his finger. “Other than that, I'm peachy, Sam! –Just peachy!” he snapped, glaring. “How do you expect me to feel after that kind of revelation, Sam? It's not like I can drench my brain in bleach or something to make all those thoughts vanish. Is it?” he asked accusingly as he paced the small room. Obviously every bit as uncomfortable with this as Sam was.

“‘M sorry, Dean, I really am!" Sam mumbled as he felt his stomach turn in agony.

"That's just it—it's not your fault!” Dean said, throwing his hands up. “Neither of us could have known, right? It's just one of these freak incidents that happen sometimes. I can't even be angry at anyone for this. I've brought this one upon myself. I should have known...” he said, shaking his head. “It was all too familiar, too comfortable around you. I really should have known... How could I have been so stupid? Jesus, I kissed you, for fucksake! Kissed you! My own flesh and blood!" he rambled, outraged and running his finger frantically through his wild hair. "Oh, I'm going to be sick again..."

Sam was all too familiar with the nauseated look he saw on Dean's face. “Hey, hey! Dean, breath! Calm down!" Sam said and wanted to go over and comfort the tense shoulders of the man that apparently was his brother, but he didn't dare. Maybe it would be misinterpreted?

Instead he tried a different approach.

"I don't know if this actually helps but, I read this article once about siblings and parents and children that had been separated from birth, and when they reunited as grown ups it wasn't all that unusual that they had sexual or romantic feelings towards each other,” Sam said slowly. “I think they called it genetic sexual attraction or something like that... Apparently when there is no recollection of growing up together or having a shared life together, it was common that the feelings of attachment got a bit... confused when they reunited. Since I have no recollection of growing up with you, I'm thinking maybe that's what happened here? Somehow we both subconsciously knew that we were family, but having no real memories of growing up together we simply mistook our feeling of attachment for romantic feelings," he explained, looking hopefully at the older man.

“I really don't know what to make of what you just said?” Dean said, looking just as confused as he no doubt felt. “The fact that you actually have absurd, nerdy facts like that in your head is somewhat disturbing...“ he said as he stopped the frantic pacing and instead sat down in the chair by the desk, wringing his hands awkwardly.

Sam instantly wished Dean had continued the pacing, because having him at eye level was almost worse than the frantic pacing.

Dean fell silent for a minute, pondering on what had been said, before continuing. “But I guess you could be right, in a way...” he finally said. “What did the article say about acting upon those feelings?”

"Uhm… “ Sam really didn't want to share this, but put it out there. He tried to meet Dean's gaze, but failed and settled on staring at his feet instead. “The article actually strongly advised against it. I can't remember the exact reason, but I'm sure having romantic feelings involved in any kind of family relations can be utterly confusing and mess up any chance of healthy relation for the reunited parties. Right?" he mumbled eventually.

He couldn't agree more; he couldn't figure out how he and Dean would ever have a normal relationship after this. Even though he knew his feelings towards Dean were terribly wrong, he couldn't seem to get rid of them. It seemed almost as if the more he tried not to think about it, the more he thought of just that.

When Dean had talked about fucking him in this room earlier, he had almost gasped out loud in arousal and recognition, because he had had the exact same thoughts about him—in just about in every familiar place on the ward. He just didn't know how to stop it...

Sam looked at Dean, who looked seconds from running out of there like a frightened animal. He didn't, though. Instead, Dean seemed to come to some kind of resolution in his head.

“Right! You’re right!” Dean said emphatically, pointing at Sam. “That's probably what happened here,” he finally said with determination, nodding his head. “Once we get our memories back, all of this incestous confusion will be gone. Right?” Dean continued, but not really convincing anybody.

Least of all Sam but he didn't feel this was the time to tell Dean that.

Instead, Sam nodded enthusiastically in agreement. “We’d better get our asses in gear on finding out who—or what—did this to us then!" he concluded, happy to see some hope put back into his brother's eyes.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

The frosty grass crunched under their feet as they crossed the grayish-green lawn a few days later. Humid vapor welled out of Sam's mouth as he explained how surprisingly easy it had been for him to get a day's leave for both of them. His and Dean's first since he had been admitted here.

Dr. Brown had been very forthcoming towards both of them. Sam suspected she saw this as a first step to gradually releasing them into the world outside. Sam didn't want to misuse that trust but he couldn't really tell the nice doctor he and Dean was going to visit an eccentric collector of occult books on their day off, so instead he had told her that he and Dean were going to see a movie and just hang out. They would be back well in time for supper, he had promised her.

He explained to Dean that the collector lived about an hours walk from here. Since they didn't have any means of transportation, they just had to wrap their thin jackets around them and bite down facing the icy wind and chill of Chicago. It had been strange walking out of the gates of the hospital, but once they had started walking with a goal it had all felt better.

Sam felt happy walking alongside his brother towards what could be one step closer to solving this fucked up drama. For probably the hundredth time in the last few days, he cursed the beautiful looks of his older brother.

He was sure he wouldn't feel this way once they get their memories back, but until then he couldn't help losing his breath as he watched the rosy cheeked man walking shoulder to shoulder with him, bumping into him every now and then. ‘Stop it, he is your Brother for christ's sake’, Sam thought and shook his head, as if the shaking could somehow rid his brain of the inappropriate thoughts.

Sam had called the collector a few days earlier under the pretense of research for a paper he was writing and really needed access to his library. The collector seemed to be a rich, well educated man that was heavily involved in the academic world so Sam had a hunch the academic approach would be easiest in order to get a meeting with the guy. He hadn't been wrong, and it turned out the guy was more than eager to show off his extensive collection to a fellow scholar.

An hour later, they had reached a gated community. They both felt out of their element as they approached the huge tudor style house that matched the address Sam had been given.

Sam rang the doorbell, and a minute later a middle-aged, tall, dark-haired man opened the door. The guy was taller than Sam, which startled him for a second but he soon got his thoughts together when the man stretched out a hand and introduced himself as Andrew, a wide, upperclass smile showing off perfect teeth.

“You must be the guys from the university,” Andrew said as he showed them inside, checking out the taller of the two guys out, head to toe much to Dean's disapproval. But Sam was oblivious to it all as he entered the impressive house, stamping his feet and rubbing his frozen hands together in an attempt to get the circulation going.

“Yes! I’m Sam and this is my assistant, Dean,” Sam said as he peeled off his jacket and welcomed the warmth of the house. “We don't have that much time unfortunately, so I would really appreciate if we could see your library right away.”

“Of course. This way,” Andrew said with a somewhat dissapointed look on his face, but Dean imagined he was the only one noticing it.

The library was impressive and extensive. Andrew showed Sam and Dean around, advertising his most precious gems to an enthusiastic Sam with pride. Dean’s mood became more and more brooding as he watched the two of them bonding over the books.

“So, I'd hate to interrupt this lovely conversation in ‘nerd’ here,” Dean interrupted, sounding anything but sorry, “But we really are on the clock here, if you remember Professor Winchester?”

“Uhm, Yes,” Sam said, clearing his throat awkwardly. “You’re quite right, Dean. We really should get started. Is it okay if we botanize your library on our own? It will probably be quicker,” Sam, who finally came out of his nerd-daze, explained to the obviously disappointed millionaire.

When finally alone a few moments later, they got to work. It didn't take long before Sam had located the relevant book. It took a bit longer to read through it as it was written in ancient Greek, but about an hour later he seemed to have found what he was looking for.

“Aha! Here it is!” Sam said excitedly. “So get this! We’re not dealing with a common monster here. The only thing powerful enough to cause this kind of amnesia, had to be some kind of god. I just didn't know what kind and where from, but I think this is it; There is this Greek goddess Hekate; She was a torch-bearing goddess of the night, the leader of haunting ghosts and goddess of the moon. Hekate led the ghosts of the dead to the upper world at night. Her passing was heralded by the baying of dogs. I'm not entirely sure she is the one but she is the goddess of witchcraft and ghosts, and given our occupation i think maybe she is our best guess,” he explained with wrinkled eyebrows.

“That's great news! Now let's go gank this bitch!” Dean said happy to finally get out of the stuffy library. “...but judging by the look on your face, maybe not?” Dean added when he noticed Sam's concerned face.

“First off, we are talking about a god here,” Sam said. “It's not like we can go salt ‘n burn this thing. Second, we’d need to summon her with a spell of necromancy.”

“So what?” Dean countered, “It's not like I haven't summoned things before. What's the problem?”

“Problem is the spell is encrypted. And we probably need a dead body…”

“Yeah, that could be a problem,” Dean nodded. “But you’re a bright kid—you’ll figure it out, Sammy. The body, though... that might be harder to solve,” Dean pondered.

“I’m flattered you have such confidence in my abilities, but this spell won't be cracked in a heartbeat. I need to bring a copy with me.”

“So ask the guy to photocopy it for you? I’m sure he would be happy to oblige,” Dean spat out.

“You think he would do that?” Sam asked, not really sure what his brother was implying.

“Uh—yeah!” Dean snarked. “I'm pretty sure he would do that while happily wagging his tail for you, among other things…” Dean said with a sarcastic look on his face. “You really are that oblivious, aren't you?” he added when he saw Sam's puzzled face.

To Sam's surprise, and Deans disappointment, Andrew not only offered to copy the pages for Sam, but offered to let Sam to borrow the whole book so—as he put it—’he then had a reason to see them again’. Sam accepted the offer, and they started the long walk back to the hospital.

Chapter Text

Sam managed to keep the book under the radar. The next day, he approached his friend Garry, asking for his help with it. Garry was brilliant with puzzles and Sam was sure Garry could solve this crypto much quicker than he himself could ever hope for.

It hadn't taken long for Garry to get the hang of what he wanted help with. Even though the spell was written in an ancient language, the hyper smart kid had solved it a few hours later much to Sam's joy. Sam figured Garry was some kind of idiot savant; the kid had extreme trouble coping with people, but he had taken to Sam almost instantly when he first got there, something Sam was real grateful for in times like these.

He was really going to miss this kid if he ever got out of this place. As things were progressing right now, he actually thought he could have a fair chance of discharging himself in a few weeks or so. Dr. Brown didn’t think there was any need for him to stick around. If he could only find himself a job, and somewhere to live outsid, he’d be out of there in a heartbeat. How that specific part of the plan was going to be solved, he had absolutely no clue. But as long as he had Dean, he was sure everything would work out fine.

That was the part that troubled him the most these days; Dean! He couldn't get him off his mind, no matter how many cold showers he took. He was obsessed with incestious thoughts of his own brother. Dean seemed to have gotten over him easy enough and always held a sufficient ‘brotherly’ distance between them these days. Sam only wished he could be able to put it behind him as easy as Dean had...

He comforted himself with the thought that everything was going to feel different once they had their memories back. If they ever get their memories back.

The 'If' in there was a thought too scary to entertain, so he focused on the subject at hand instead.

“So, Dean! I have–no, Garry solved the crypto, and I have the spell!” Sam said enthusiastically. He handed over a paper to Dean to read and watched as Dean's face went white as he read it.

“We can't do this,” Dean eventually said in a weak voice. “This is too dangerous. What if the spell doesn't break as it’s supposed to? What then?” he asked, looking at Sam with fear clearly shining in his eyes.

“Yeah, I know it’s risky,” Sam said, “But one of us must go down to the underworld to talk to Hekate. It's the only way to find out why she did this—or who did this to us, if it wasn’t her.”

“I know, but you’re not doing it, I am,” Dean said in a stern voice, signalling he didn't expect any further discussion on the subject.

“No! No, you’re not!” Sam almost shouted back at his imbecile brother. “No, I couldn't stand it if I lost you…” he added in a lower, almost embarrassed, voice. He really couldn't stand the thought of losing Dean. Even though they, as far as he remembered, haven't known each other for more than a few months, he had such strong, deep feelings of love (?) towards this man, that he'd rather risk his own life instead of living in a world without Dean.

He cringed slightly at the L-word, but it was true; he was in love with this man—his brother.

Dean looked at the embarrassed brother in front of him and placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. "Hey, hey, calm down. You’re not gonna lose me. Besides, who said I would do any better without you, than you would do without me," he confessed looking Sam deep in his eyes.

Sam couldn't hold it back; he threw himself at Dean, wrapping his arms around him in a hug. A hug that wasn't really appropriate for two friends, maybe not even for two brothers, not with how they both pressed into it like there was no tomorrow. They stood there hugging for a long time. Sam listened to how his blood started to throb faster and louder in his ears with every second that passed.

He really should break away, he really should, but he couldn't help stealing a deep breath of the scent by Dean's neck. God he smelled good. How was he ever going to be around this being without wanting to smell him, touch him or taste him?

Before he knew what he was doing, he had his lips on Dean's neck. Only the slightest touch of brushing lips before he drew back and looked at Dean, whose eyes were blown wide.

He was going to pretend that it had never happened. That the brush of his lips had been too swift for Dean to even notice, but his face spoke another language entirely. He and Dean finally drew apart hands trailing and lingering on each other much longer than necessary.

“Let's draw straws for it, okay?” Sam finally managed to say a moment later. That suggestion was eventually accepted by both.

A few days goes by. He and Dean meet up to discuss details of the spell. There were material needed for the spell that weren't lying around the ward. The brothers acted incredibly weird around each other, so the opportunity to focus on a task that distracted them from each other was extremely welcome.

By pulling some strings, Dean had managed to get his hands on some wax. Sam asked Nina to sculpt the wax in his image. She was a talented artist and the wax doll came out a spitting image of Sam. He told her they needed the doll for some ritual, but he didn't tell her what the outcome of the ritual might be, as he doubted she would agree to it if she knew. (She probably thought it was being used in some voodoo ritual or something, and Sam saw no need in setting her assumptions straight.)

Now, they had everything they needed for performing the spell. Unfortunately, the spell required six hours of chanting and six undisturbed hours was hard to come by here on the ward. It looked like they would have to ask for day leave again in order to complete the spell.

Getting the day leave hadn't been hard this time either, but leaving the hospital meant leaving the only roof over their heads they knew of, and having no money or friends or relatives on the outside they didn't really know where to go to in order to perform this spell.

Sam suggested they contact Andrew again. Under the pretence of having more research done, Sam was sure they could have six undisturbed hours in the millionaire’s library. Unfortunately, Dean had thought it to be a terrible idea for reasons that didn't really make sense to Sam.

After a few days, when they had ruled out all other options, Dean had finally come to his senses regarding staying at Andrews place. But only after revealing the reasons for his reluctance in the first place.

“So, let me see if I got this right—we can’t do it at Andrew’s place because he is looking at me funny. You're jealous? Is that it?" Sam said with a condescending voice, but inside he was rejoicing. He had been sure Dean didn't harbour any of those romantic feelings towards him anymore.

“Yeah, kind of,” Dean admitted, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, I know what this looks like, but It's purely out of brotherly concern, and I was thinking maybe we could rent a motel room instead?” he added hastily in an attempt to distract from the embarrassment.

"Yeah? With what money—our trust fund?" Sam replied sarcastically.

"Uhm, no, I have some money, not much, but enough to get a room I think," Dean reluctantly admitted with a hopeful smile

“And, where, might I ask, did you get this money?” Sam asked, not really sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“A few dollars here and there on the poker games on the ward. Nothing major, just symbolic sums, but it still added up to enough to be of use in times like this,” Dean hastily replied, fully aware of how terrible he sounded in his brother's ears.

Sam gave out a sigh of resignation before agreeing to the proposal. Maybe it was the better alternative? Having a guaranteed undisturbed place to themselves for this thing. He, for some, reason didn't find Dean’s conning of the fellow patients of the ward all that surprising. Maybe it was something he expected of his brother somehow?

Sam did find it a bit morally questionable. But who was he to pass moral judgment on anyone; having thoughts of questionable nature about his own brother. No, he surely shouldn't pass judgment, he thought to himself with distaste filling his mouth

Chapter Text

"They were actually doing this," Dean thought as he sat down on the bed in the shitty motel room. A room that hadn't seen a paintbrush in at least three decades—Apricot? Really? He wasn't sure he was prepared for this. He didn't think he would ever be prepared for the possibility of losing Sam. His kid brother! The thought that he was an big brother was preposterous in his ears.

He really couldn't imagine himself being the older, caring brother of anything, especially not the grown man sitting across him on the other bed. This guy, whom he couldn't imagine ever have been little and helpless. He sure as hell wasn't little any more. Dean knew that for a fact—Sam wasn't little anywhere.

Oh, fuck, now he was trailing off into No-No Land again...

Somehow, he had known that the happiness he had felt the first few weeks in Chicago with Sam, they were just too good to be true. He instinctively knew that! Yet, he had let himself get all wrapped up in the warmth of those ever changing eyes, take comfort in those huge hands on his body. He really should have known better, and now they were going to spend the day and night together in this crappy motel room watching Sam die? Nothing good ever came to Dean. He remembers that. Now he most likely is going to watch his Brother die in this shitty room.

... and there is nothing he can do about it.

Anyhow, he was going to get his act straight and go through with this. Support Sam in any way he could, not let his fear of losing him shine through his armour. He could do this! If Sam was able to put the attraction between them aside, so was he. He was a big brother after all. Time to start acting one.

Sam talked him through the procedure, it wasn't really that complicated; six hours of chanting, set fire to the wax doll. Sam died, wax burned out, spell was broken! At least, that was how it was supposed to work out, but Dean doesn't really trust any of this witchcraft mumbo jumbo.

"What if the spell doesn't break? What then?" he had to ask, although he already knew the answer.

“There is always the possibility to mold the wax back into a doll again, when the wax is mouldable again, but I'm thinking maybe we are better off just letting the wax burn out completely to break the spell, it will take a bit longer but this way we don't have to rely on your artistic skills," Sam replied with a wink and a wide smile showing off those amazing dimples.

“Uh, Yes! That’s probably a good thing," Dean thoughtfully answered, eventually. It really should be illegal with dimples like that. Dimples that distract from much more important tasks... like listening to his brother.

“Okay, let get started then shall we?” Dean asked, rubbing his hands together as he sat down opposite Sam. Symbols were drawn on the sheet between them, spread out on the hideous orange-y apricot carpet. Dean lit the candle in the middle and they both started chanting the spell that was supposed to set them both in a trancelike state. Sam more so than Dean though.

When the alarm on his phone went off, all he had to do was set fire to the wax figure in the bowl, and Sam would go into a state of coma, or something resembling death. That was the tricky part of communicating with the underworld and the gods in it; you either needed to have a dead soul do the talking for you (that usually required a dead body though) or you did the talking yourself by dying.

Since they didn't have dead bodies lying around, they had decided on the latter. Well, not so much decided, as being forced to if they wanted to solve the amnesia mystery.

Sam had been confident that it really was the greek goddess Hecate who was behind all this (or, at least would have some answers for them if nothing else). Dean couldn't really argue with that. They needed answers and Hekate could probably provide them. Dean really would have preferred it was him doing the dying though, but apparently his big brother word didn't outweigh the shorter straw.

Six hours later, his phone went off, waking him from a deep state of meditative trance. He set fire to the wax figure in the bowl between them and watched as it slowly started to melt. He looked over at Sam, who was still seated up on the floor but seems to be far away in his trance.

When the wax was totally melted a while later, he heard Sam falling back on the floor. He crawled over on his knees and helped placing Sam's body outstretched on his back.

He looked at his brother and could practically see how the life was seeping out of him. Sam's lips were turning slightly blue, and when he felt for a pulse on his neck, Dean could almost feel how the warmth was fading away from Sam's body.

Dean could feel himself working himself up over this. He was seconds away away from panicking; there was no pulse and Sam was dead. He tried to feel Sam's breath on his hand, holding it over his lips.

He tried reasoning with himself. ‘This is only a temporary state of ‘death’. ‘He will come back to him in a few hours time.’ It didn't help though.

He suddenly found himself panicking, anyway; slapping Sam's face, picking him up by his shoulders shaking him violently. Desperate for some kind of reaction or sign of life. There was nothing. Nothing, but the cold body with blue lips.

Dean started sobbing to himself silently. He knew it wasn’t a permanent state, but he couldn’t help himself—the thought that it actually could be permanent was enough to make his stomach turn inside out, and it hurt so bad.

Eventually, he picked himself up off the floor and sprawled out on the bed. He told himself not to be such a fucking girl and stop with the crying. What if Sam could see him now? Wouldn't that be embarrassing? Unfortunately, Sam couldn't see him. That thought only forced another series of sobs out of him instead of bringing any comfort. He really was quite pathetic.

He soon gave up trying to rest on the bed as he felt a desperate urge to check on Sam for any lifesigns. After getting on and off the bed several times to check on his brother, he gave up and just sat down besides Sam's body, grabbed his cold hand and placed it in his lap squeezing it tightly.

After what must have been an hour, but felt more like five, Dean saw that the melted wax in the bowl was starting to thicken. Maybe he could mold it into something that resembled Sam, so that he could have him back sooner?

He picked up the still warm wax and started modelling it. He had figured that the wax model was only a representation of the one the spell was concerned, like in Hoodoo. He figured it didn't have to be portrait-like. Apparently, that wasn't the case with this magic though, because when he finally sculpted something that vaguely resembled a human being—well, it had legs and arms and a head… close enough!—nothing happened to Sam. He was still cold and no pulse. Lifeless.

Dean sighed and set the wax on fire again realizing he just had to wait for the wax to burn out. Sadly, he had now made the time Sam had to spend in the Underworld longer. He hoped it wasn't a too bad place. It couldn't be as bad as Hell, right? Strangely enough, he remembered hell; all 40 years of it. That was a part of his life he gladly would have forgotten.

The flame of the burning wax finally started to flicker a few hours later. Dean pulled himself together, sharpening his senses. Ready to take notice of any life signs in the cold body in front of him. The flame finally died and Dean put his fingers on Sam's neck in order to feel a pulse.

There was nothing. Nothing but cold skin against his digits.

Don't panic! he scolded himself. This isn't exact science, he reminds himself, it can obviously take a while. No need to panic just yet. He put his ear to Sam's chest. Listening for anything, a heartbeat, a breath. He placed his fingers under Sam’s nose, hoping to feel air streaming out of it.

There was Nothing.

Now, he was panicking for real. This wasn't happening! He was not losing his brother when he had just found him. He just wasn’t...

"Please, Sammy! Please wake up," he sobs desperately as he leaned down to place a desperate kiss on the blue, cold lips.

"Please come back to me..."

Chapter Text


Sam slowly eased his eyelids open to take in his surroundings, expecting the unexpected. But instead there was nothing. Nothing, but darkness and a feeling of terror. He couldn't breathe. The feeling of suffocation was panicking. The urge to take a deep breath and fill his lungs with air was overwhelming. He tried over and over, but not a single atom of oxygen passed through his nostrils or filled his lungs. He was choking, suffocating, but still alive. There was no air in this place and no light. Yet he noticed a lack of environment.

This is a vacuum, he reflected, pure lack of anything substantial for his mind or body to hold on to. His mind was struggling to make sense of it all before eventually noticing that he had some kind of astral body. It was fuzzy and blurred around the edges, making him want to squint to improve the picture. It didn’t help though. He was in some kind of ghost-like, transparent form.

There are others.

There are others like him. There are lots of others like him, all around, scattered around in this seemingly endless space. Looking as confused and terrified as he probably looked himself. Transparent vaguely illuminated figures with their faces twisted in pain? Fear? Screaming! Agonized crying souls that were utterly confused about what they were doing there.

Innumerable faces were screaming, but there were no sounds in this place. Because of the vacuum, he figured. They all floated through space.

Yes! That's a good analogy. This must be what space feels like: dark, cold and no air –nothingness.

Nothing but souls floating around. Searching, screaming.

A woman floated through him. She didn't seem to notice him at all even though she passed right through him. It felt like she dragged a piece of his translucent body with her as she passed. Like he lost part of his soul to this unknown ghost.

After that, Sam kept better track of the souls getting close to him. Moving was like moving in quicksand or under water. Very thick pressing deep sea water.

Moving his "body" in this place was nothing like he was used to. Any quick movements were met with resistance. How could it be so hard moving a transparent airy body? After a few moments acclimatizing to his new environment, he looked around, searching for some kind of clue as to where to go to now. He found nothing but darkness.

There was only cold, darkness and emptiness. After what felt like an eternity. ––Maybe it was? He had no way to determine time in this place. He saw a weak light to his right. He moved toward it, and noticed it was Dean and him in the motel room. He could see his brother hunched over his prone body. Hadn't he known better, he could swear it looked like Dean was crying.

None of the other souls seem to notice the illuminated scene in front of him though. Was he the only one able to see the light steadily pulsing out from his brother's body in that room? He found himself hypnotized by the scene.

It must be warmer there than it was here. He had never been so cold in his life. He was not freezing; this was another kind of coldness. This was cold to the very core of his being. He felt dazed and sleepy. The cold was starting to slow his mind down. Unable to form coherent, logical fluent thoughts.

Why am I here?

"Find Hekate!" He repeated it to himself like a mantra. Yet, it seemed to slip from his mind as soon as he didn't give it his full attention. It was tiresome to keep his focus on anything longer than a few seconds.

After yet another eternity of drifting off in timeless and senseless delirium, he thought he heard dogs howling in a distance. He moved toward the noise.

Was there something about dogs that I was supposed to remember?

He could make out three dogs at a distance. One of them illuminated in a strange way—like moonlight. When he came closer, he noticed the dog had three heads. The dogs were huge and had he not been so numbed, he’d probably be scared right now.

“Hekate?” he tried saying, but nothing came out of his mouth. The dog must have heard him though, because the three headed Doberman-like dog walked towards him. One of its heads looking intensely at him, sniffing the air. Growling low in its throat, showing its teeth.

"Hekate?" Sam tried again, focusing with all the sharpness he could muster this time. Hoping his voice—thoughts?—got through clearer this time.

Shit, it's so hard staying focused.

He'd most of all just like to float off, surrender to the numbness and darkness around him. The cold was getting to him –– this place was getting to him.

He suddenly heard a woman's voice inside his head. "What do you want?"

He thought it more than heard it.

“What do you want from me?" the voice continued as the three headed dog in front of him shifted into a woman in an ancient robe.She had long, dark hair and beautiful features and cold piercing eyes. But something was very off with her head and her face... Her faces!

Sam realized as he took in the luminescent creature before him, it was actually three faces he noticed . It was the middle face that had been talking to him. If talking was actually the appropriate word here.

“ I need to talk to you about something... but can't really remember what about right now...” Sam explained, desperately searching his mind for clues. It was as if he was even duller now than when he first got here. As if he was being pulled away from this place by some outside force.

The intimidating goddess before him makes some kind of Jedi hand move in front of him and all of a sudden he is able to think clearly again, he seriously doubted that this ancient Greek goddess ever heard of a Jedi. Nevertheless, he was grateful it did the trick.

His thoughts cleared instantly as she did her “swipe”. For the first time since he got here, he was able to think straight coherent thoughts. The brain fog was gone, as well as the awkward pull he had felt. It felt like pulling a deep breath breaking the water surface, even though he actually didn't.

He sighed out a grateful “Thank you!”

Now that it was all clear to him what he was doing there. He quickly explained what had happened to him and his brother, and that he was hoping Hekate would have some answers for them, being sort of a goddess of wisdom and all…

Perhaps she could even restore their lost memories? He asked this in his head with a hopeful expression on his face, although he started to get the feeling this somewhat frightening goddess in front of him didn't concern herself with something so irrelevant as human expressions.

Hekate listened to him patiently before speaking again. This time it was the left face talking.

“The Winchesters! You two and the likes of you have caused enough trouble for my followers through the years. I can't help feeling this punishment quite suits you,” she said turning her head so that Sam could look at her face from the past. “I would probably have gotten rid of you both permanently for all the mischief you caused,” she said sternly with a look that frightened Sam.

But all of a sudden her right future face interrupted. “But I’m not going to, because you two brothers have a destiny to fulfill.” She said sounding slightly less hostile now. “One that will save my realms from further darkness.”

"I'm not the one causing you this amnesia, but I'm fairly certain one of my followers is," she continued with a frown. "This is a spell used by witches under my protection, but it can only be performed with water from the river Lethe. To my knowledge none have requested my permission to use it though...that means that one of my followers has used it without my permission.

Her middle face spoke with annoyance, brushing her dark hair back. “That is something not taken lightly here in the Underworld. I will let you and your brother live if you can find the one who has used my magic without permission and bring them to me.”

She suddenly began shifting before Sam's eyes arms turning into paws, hunching her body forward getting down on all fours. Her faces transformed into three dog heads again, and within seconds she was transformed into a huge dog. The middle head sniffed the air and frowned a hot puff of air into Sam's face. She shook her heads eventually and walked off arrogantly. Sam, a bit startled by the transformation, tried to collect his thoughts before realizing his "talk" with the goddess apparently was over for now.

“Yes…yes, of course we can find the guilty one!” Sam said as he nodded cooperatively. “But it will probably be very difficult without having our memories back.”

But Hekate was already walking away. Clearly not listening any more.

“ –We need our memories back!” Sam shouted desperately after the retreating three-headed dog. He didn't know if she had heard him. If she hadn't it seemed his trip here had all been in vain...

Chapter Text

There was nothing but a faint whiff of air against Dean's cheek giving away that the spell eventually was broken. Just the slightest movement of air against Dean's skin, and it felt like his heart stopped.

‘Please don't let this be my imagination,’ he thought, still not moving his lips from where they were placed over his brother’s.

But no, there it was again! Another puff! Barely noticeable if you weren't looking for it. Dean most definitely was looking for it, though. Desperately looking for any signs of life since the wax had burnt out.

He had been at the point of giving up. Placing one last quivering kiss on his brother’s lips, when he felt it. The relief was massive. He didn't really realize what he was doing until he did it; slowly parting his lips over Sam's. Tasting the cold lips and his own salty teardrops on them. Desperate for them to fill, warm up, and part against his. Desperate to feel Sam's breath pass over them, feel his whole body warming up, moving, returning from that awful state of unresponsiveness.

Dean placed desperate euphoric kisses all over Sam's face before returning once more to the mouth that just then drew a deep breath. He pressed his lips against Sam's once more and this time they parted for him slightly, opened up for Dean's tongue that just couldn't help dip into Sam's mouth as he felt how warmth quickly returned. Returned to the mouth that had been awfully cold just seconds ago.

The slight movement of Sam's lips gradually increased and soon Dean felt his probing desperate kisses being meet with urgency. Fuck! This felt so good and Sam was awake. Not Dead! He couldn't control himself any longer—he wasn’t sure he even wanted to.

His trembling hands started tugging at Sam's shirt. Sam opened his eyes and looked up at him with today's hazel eyes. He never thought he'd be so happy labeling the color of his brothers eyes. Something he up until only moments ago thought he'd never do again.

Sam's hands came up around his shoulders and squeezed him tight while still meeting Deans kisses in earnest. "Dean, Dean!" Sam panted, before tugging Dean's shirt out of his pants. Seemingly every bit as desperate for skin as Dean himself was. Dean continued his exploration of Sam's shirt buttons and with Sam's help managed to get it off fully.

Argh, the sight was too much. Oceans of smooth, tanned skin pressing up to meet Dean's hands as he stroked over it.

“God! You are beautiful" he managed to whisper out as he leaned back to take it all in.
He quickly rid himself of his own shirt with the help of Sam's cheering hands. He was so hard he could smash diamonds.

Dean let his hands trail over the tanned skin. Put his mouth to the two pink islands of Sam’s nipples and pulled the most beautiful sounds out of Sammy as he did. Twirled his tongue over them again and again until Sam's hands in his hair tug him off under pained sounds of pleasure. His mouth traveled down, over Sam's stomach, down until he found himself stranded on the bulge confined in Sam's jeans.

“Fuck, you're huge,” he panted with a nervous chuckle. His own cock was throbbing, desperate for attention. Without even noticing the slight protests coming out of Sam's mouth, he unbuttoned Sam's jeans and dragged them down far enough to get a hold of what he desired touching the most. God! he wanted this so desperately; to make Sam squirm under his attention, making him pant and moan out his name.

This wasn't right he knew it but fuck. It felt so good. He needed this so badly.

"God, I thought you were dead, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed more to himself than anyone else as he wriggled Sam's cock out of its confinement. Sam bucked up into his hand with a groan. Dean darted his tongue out, sweeping over the hard, shiny warmth of his brothers cock.

Sam’s breath hitched and let out a choked "F-fuck!".

Dean parted his lips slowly to let his mouth sink over the rigid cock, one inch at a time. He had no idea it would feel this good, the texture, the warmth against his tongue. Oh, the warmth, was intoxicating after all that cold. This right here was pulsing with warmth and life. He took it deeper and started sucking down on it, listening to Sam's moans as he let it press deeper into his mouth.

Sam's hands were back in his hair, grabbing desperately as his brother was moaning out profanities. Sam's hips were hitching upwards uncontrollably and Dean pressed them into place with one hand on Sam’s hip, the other stroking his own aching hard-on through his jeans.

Sam's cock was drenched in his saliva and Dean took his brother’s cock deeper and deeper, until he actually gagged a little from his own enthusiasm.

Sam wasn’t able to take the stimulation any longer. He tried desperately to tug Dean's mouth off his pulsing cock. “Fuck, D-dean! Fuck—that was... Fuck!" Sam cursed as he threw his head back and his body shook with pleasure, painting Dean's mouth with his come. He finally managed to get Dean off, but only after most of his come landed in Dean's obviously willing mouth. Dean moaned happy noises as he stroked and licked Sam through his last pulsing twitches.

Sam eventually dragged Dean up into a deep kiss. kissing himself off his brother’s lips, moaning out his arousal. He slid his hands over Dean's body, searching and stroking over Dean's crotch. He drew back, looking up at Dean questionly.

“Yeah, it's already taken care of," Dean confessed with an embarrassed smile "That was the hottest thing I've ever done. Couldn't hold it," he confirmed with a chuckle.

“Fuck, that’s so hot, Dean,” Sam said through a moan. “Did you just come in your pants from sucking me off? Jeez!" He smiled and caught Dean's lips in another kiss with a pleased growl.

They lay there stilling themselves, sated and content. Feeling each other's steady breathing and beating hearts. Suddenly Dean stirred, went rigid against Sam's side.

Sam lifted his head to look at Dean, reacting to the change in Dean’s body. "What?" he asked.

Dean looked at him with distress, searching for something in his face. Seconds of silence passed, before Dean suddenly jerked away and pulled himself off Sam.

"You don't remember, do you? Oh, fuck! fuck... I'm going to throw up," Dean said before he launched himself towards the bathroom.

Sam heard the hurling sounds of his brother and felt how the bliss from only minutes ago was quickly replaced with confusion, shame and guilt.

Chapter Text

"Let me get this right—we make our living by hustling pool and playing poker? When not getting our hands on fake credit cards, that is?" Sam asked in a sceptic tone, disbelief on his face as he sat down on Dean's bed back in the ward. "You do know, that sounds just a little bit illegal don't you?" he continued, seriously questioning what Dean had just told him.

“Yeah, I'm sorry princess of high moral standards if that isn't 'nice' enough for you," Dean sarcastically threw back at him. "I seriously don't know what happened when you lost your memories, but I honestly don't know how not remembering our life together can put you up on that high horse. It's not like we had any choice in the matter. Hunting isn't exactly lucrative business, but somebody has to do it or people get killed. You know that!" Dean explained, irritated and placing himself beside Sam on the bed.

‘Fuck, not that close, Dean,’ Sam thought to himself, cursing Hekate's cruel trick on them once again. The trick, making sure only one of them remembered their past. Ensured knowledge enough for finding whomever it was did this to them, yet kept them motivated to do their best in order to get Sam's memory back, too. It was clever, he admitted.

Clever, cruel and awfully painful for him.

Dean, having all his memories back, had no problem keeping his brotherly distance from Sam.

Sam, on the other hand, was worse off than ever in his longing for Dean. Not an hour went by without him thinking of how Dean's lips had looked like around his cock, or how his kisses spiced with his own scent had tasted.

He looked at his brother’s bubblegum-pink lips, hoping Dean didn't know how many times he had jerked off to that image over the last few days. An image that instantly had him hot and bothered, with just as much boiling shame accompanying it. If only Dean's memories had returned earlier, they wouldn't have found themselves in this awkward situation at all. He really needed to have his memory back—right the fuck NOW!

This was agony; no matter how much Dean told him about their life together, his yearning for his brother didn't fade. The guilt and the shame became worse the more he knew, but nothing was enough to put this hot burning fire for his brother to sleep.

Here and there small details actually did come back to him. When Dean had aired his concern for Baby yesterday, he actually remembered it was Dean's car. He guessed some things slipped through the curse. Things that had been important to him, like his name and now obviously a sleek, black ‘67 Impala.

Sam had tried talking to Dean about what happened in that apricot motel room, but his brother always made some avoidant jokes or eventually said straight out –he didn't want to talk about it. It was obvious to Sam that this was extremely painful and embarrassing to Dean. He had a feeling he should avoid being around his brother altogether, to spare him the feeling of disgust Dean no doubt felt with him since the incident.

God! He had forced himself on his brother, choking him on his cock. Dean really had every reason to feel disgusted with him. –He was disgusted with himself. He really should make himself disappear, make sure those green eyes never had to rest on him again, he really should get out of here. Problem was he just couldn't make himself stay away from his brother's presence more than a few hours at a time...

He was lost. His only hope was that he would someday get his memories back. A small part of him was conflicted, though. He didn't want his memories back if it meant that his feelings towards Dean would turn into even more crimson shame and inkstained guilt. He watched how Dean suffered from what they had done. Even though he'd never admit it. It was obvious that Dean was ashamed and disgusted from the way he dodged eye contact and generally acted weird around him. Sam desperately wished he could do something to make it go away. Make it all like it was before. Before Hekate.

Even though they had known they were brothers, it hadn't seemed like such a big deal. They were both willing participants, so what was the harm? Now, everything was different...

Dean remembered everything! That changed everything. It changed his behavior in some ways. But not in all. Sam still had a feeling something was off with how Dean behaved. But who wouldn't flinch at his brothers accidental touches? Especially after said brother forced himself to a blowjob? Maybe it was him imagining things or just Dean feeling weird around him. But something was off. He was so extremely fucked up about this whole thing, he had absolutely no idea what ‘brotherly’ behavior was supposed to even feel like these days.

The one great thing about having Dean's memory back, though, was the fact that they could now get out of this place. Not to the apple pie life he had deep down hoped for, but to life on the road hunting things and saving people. They just had to convince Dr. Brown that they would be able to manage out there.

Dean was now comfortably stretched out on his bed getting Sam up to date on their road so far. It was all a little too much to believe at times, but Sam listened in suspense as his brother filled him in on their lives together. He sat there studying his brother as he told him lovely memories of their childhood, giving Sam expectant looks of enthusiasm, expecting his stories to be confirmed, but Sam didn't remember a thing. Not a single thing.

Sam wanted to ask more questions about what he did remember, Stanford and some other later parts of his life, but he let Dean explain all the little details of their childhood just to watch how Dean's face lit up reminiscing it all. He had hoped that getting to know more about their childhoods would somehow dampen his feelings towards Dean, but all they did was add to his sizzeling guilt…

“I've been trying to get a hold of Cas, but nothing so far, he's not answering. Maybe you should, try?" Dean said after finishing his latest anecdote and looked at Sam with an exhorting look.

"Try what?" Sam questioned with confusion. It was clear his brother expected something from him here, he just had no idea what that was.

"Pray to Cas or call for him," Dean explained impatiently. "They like being prayed to!”

“Who likes being prayed to?” Sam asked, still not making any sense of what Dean just said.

“Oh, for crying out loud. Just say 'Cas are you there?’ And think of an angel, Okay," Dean said impatiently.

"Cas, are you there?" Sam parroted. "Wait—what? Angels? They’re real?"

“God, how far back were your memories erased?” Dean sighed heavily and gave his brother an inquiring, glance. “You do remember the Bunker –Right?” he continued. Dean caught his brothers blank expression. “Dude! Our batcave! You have got to remember our batcave!” he added with an expectant grin and raised eyebrows.

“Last thing I remember is living in some crappy motel room in godforsaken nowhere. I'm on a case I think and there's this gorgeous woman... A dark haired woman, and god am I addicted to her,” Sam explained with a smile, clearly indicating just how thoughts of that woman made him feel. "I think her name was Ruby or something...?"

"Fuck, Sam! That was ages ago. And that precious Ruby of yours was a fucking demon. Man! She really fucked you up good on that demon blood addiction. Don't you remember any of this?” Dean asked clearly upset, getting up off the bed—just to sit down again seconds later in frustration.

"Nah, not really. Maybe something about the blood thing, but that was too weird. I didn't think it had really happened…” Sam confessed, feeling a blush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. Dean gave him a worried look, and sighed heavily before he seemed to get to some kind of decision in his head.

“Hey, whatever." Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes statedly "It's time for dinner,” Dean concluded with a sad smile and got up, goal clearly set on food.

In the dining hall, Sam suddenly seem to recollect some of their earlier conversation.

“Batcave? Bunker? Dean do we have a place to live?” he whispered so as not to raise the others attention.

“Yeah we have a place, it's awesome!” Dean grinned between bites.

"Why haven't you told me before? What are we still doing here?” Sam angry-whispered with a frown.

“You really think they’ll let us out of here just like that? If we explain we have a place to live ––a bunker in Kansas?" Dean frowned looking at Sam like he must realized this before he continued, “No, I think we need someone to vouch for us. Cas isn't answering his calls... don’t know what’s up with that. So, I'm trying to get hold of a hunter to come get us out of here. Didn't want to worry you, in case it takes some time. Besides, the food is great here, isn't it?” Dean explained, chewing said food loudly demonstrating his enthusiasm.

Chapter Text

Sam didn't like the look on the driver's face, not one bit. The truck driver had looked at them like they were some kind of exotic animals from the second they got in the truck, but he had been the only driver heading in their direction, and Sam figured they were two grown men against one slightly obese short guy. He didn't pose much of a threat. And the guy had offered them to sleep on the bunk behind the seats. They had gratefully accepted the offer, since they’d been on the road for almost two days without any proper sleep.

“It's a bit cramped back there, but I think you and your boyfriend are used to a snug fit,” the driver said addressing Dean with a suggestive smile and a wink.

“Not my boyfriend,” Dean sneered at the man while climbing back in the truck cab after Sam.

Sam looked at the slim bed and the ton of stuff that was dumped at the foot end of it. There was nowhere to move it to. He finally decided to just shove it to the side as far as possible, fit his long legs around the junk and squeeze himself towards the back wall as far as possible.

“Looks like we have to spoon in order to fit here,” Sam said with a bit of concern. Silently dreading the close encounter with his brother. It was too late to get out now though without making this a bigger issue than it really was. It really wasn't anything strange with this at all, not if none of them made it one. So he held his mouth shut, and braced himself for what to come. Placing his long limbs on the narrow bed, making as much room in front of him as possible.

“It wouldn't be the first time,” Dean answered casually while arranging his body in front of Sam. Pressing into Sam like it was no big deal at all. It probably wasn't. Not to Dean, Sam figured. To Sam though, the presence of his brother’s ass pressing right up against his crotch had him rock hard in seconds.

Jesus, there was no way Dean didn't feel that through the layers of denim. Sam tried desperately to will his erection down. This was not ok. Not at all...

“You may be more comfortable back there with some less clothes on,” The driver said after driving for a while, with a hopeful grin in the rearview mirror.

“Look man! I know he is hot as fuck, but you’re not going to get some gay porn show here. No matter how grateful we are for the lift. Okay?” Dean once again sneered at the driver. If Dean was going to keep this attitude up, Sam suspected they would get thrown off at the next truck stop.

“Hey, take it easy will you. Or do you want to walk to Lebanon?” Sam whispered in a volume he hoped wasn't audible over the trucks rumble and the country music playing in the cab.

“It's just—he gets on my nerves! He's just such a dick and I fucking hate this music..." Dean angry whispered so only Sam could hear it.

After five minutes of silence, when Sam finally had managed to get his thoughts off Dean's ass pressing against him, he asked quite boldly: “What did you mean with that this isn't the first time we've spooned?”

Dean turned his head to look at him, but changed his mind and instead rolled onto his back looking at Sam. “We shared the same bed all the time as kids. Don't you remember that?” he asked with a slight smile of nostalgia, not commenting at all on Sam's embarrassing state minutes ago.

“I take it we were close then?” Sam asked, when no memories of this sprung to mind.

"Yeah, we were close—are close," Dean explained with what Sam thought was a sad smile. It was hard to make out in the dim lighting of the cab.

He wanted to find out more about him and Dean, hoping it might trigger something buried in his confused brain. Right now, he was hoping for any miracle of revelation. Anything that could take his mind off exactly how close Dean's face was to his, or how Dean's torso pressed into him as he tried to fit on the narrow bunk. Anything would do right now, anything that could make his breathing less labored, and slow down the pace of his racing heart.

Anything to keep him from noticing just how Dean's lips glimmered in the flashing headlights, or how his brother looked at him right now as if he was about to kiss him.

Why would his brother look at him like that? And why was Dean's breathing as heavy as his own right now?

Not able to control himself any longer he cautiously pressed his lips to Dean's in the dark of the truck, expecting to get shoved off. nothing happened though. Instead, Dean met his kiss firmly. Allowed Sam's lips on his for several mind blowing seconds .Grabbed Sam's hand and placed it on his crotch, rubbing it against the very obvious arousal Sam felt there.

This isn't really happening, Sam thought to himself, checking the rearview mirror to make sure the driver was focusing on the road and nothing else. He then pressed a hard kiss to Dean's lips while rubbing his hard-on through the fabric. Dean gasped into his mouth in an attempt to keep quiet.

“Why? Why are you doing this?" Sam had to whisper in Dean's ear. "This is not what you want," he added, pulling back and looking at his brother with confusion.

“Oh, believe me I want this. I want this badly... always wanted this, even before our experiments in the ward," Dean admitted in a whisper, guiding Sam's hand inside his jeans and boxers.

God! The feeling of Dean's warm cock against his hand made Sam forget all about the potential audience and the fact that it was his brother’s cock he was wrapping his hand around and jacked slowly.

“But you didn't want this, you regretted this a few days ago?” Sam still had to ask, because this didn't make sense. He couldn't have this—he shouldn’t have this. He knew that. Yet he couldn't keep himself from stroking Dean's cock, making his brother squirm against him, panting hot into his ear. Dean biting into his lip to keep the moans as silent as possible.

“That was the shock of having the memories back in combination with what I had just done to you. It wasn't until later I realized I had had these feelings towards you since forever,” Dean said in a strained voice. “I never acted on them, and I never would have acted upon them, because you didn't feel that way towards me."

"You have to believe me I would never have acted on those feelings, but now—now by the twist of fate, I have the opportunity to feel what it's like to have those feelings reciprocated,” Dean said through a moan. “Oh, God you have no idea... I just can't resist this opportunity to kiss you and hold you now before you have your memories back again. I know it will probably fuck things up between us, but God I can't think straight anymore... I just need this once. Please, don't hate me for it!" Dean panted out in Sam's ear, making Sam shiver.

He couldn't believe what he just heard his brother confess. It was weird and strange probably, but Sam couldn't help feeling his prayers had been answered. He could have this. –he could actually have this!

"I don't think I can hate you. I actually think I love you," Sam replied before he placed a sincere, hot kiss on Dean's lips. He gently increased the speed and pressure of his hand working Dean’s cock. Preserving each silent moan he caressed out of Dean as if they were rare gems. Only minutes later, he felt his brother’s cock pulsing warm come in his hand, spilling over his fingers as he worked Dean through the last convulsions.

He wanted to bask in this moment as long as possible. If only they had been alone and somewhere he could have clearly seen the expression on Dean's face as he came for him. He was happy he had this, though. Even if it was the first and last time he would be able to touch Dean like this.

"Fuck!” Dean panted. "Fuck,” he said as he started to come down from his high. He grabbed Sam's neck and pressed a grateful, hot kiss into Sam's mouth.

Sam tried to ease his hand out of Dean's messy boxers while wiping the come of his hands as much as possible on the way out. He wasn't entirely successful, though, so the remains ended up on Dean's shirt and his own jeans.

They kissed softly now, not wanting to catch the driver's attention. Sam was achingly hard still, but happy he could have this moment together with Dean. He reflected a moment on what Dean had confessed, but after a few minutes they were both overcome with sleep

Chapter Text

“This is our Batcave?” Sam inquired with a sceptical look on his face as he looked out over the mess in front of him. Overturned bookshelfs, books and paper littered all over the place. Dean ran franticly all over the place, Sam supposed he was checking out the damage in other parts of the bunker.

“What happened here?” Sam called out, running his hand through his hair. Confused about what to do here. Should he grab something and start tidy up? He had no Idea where things were supposed to go though, so he doubted he'd be of any actual use.

“Baby is fine!” Dean announced as he entered the library a few minutes later, panting slightly from running. “And our rooms are untouched as well,” he continued looking at Sam with a concerned expression.

“It seems the library had taken the worse of it. I’m sorry,” Dean said as he approached Sam and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, casually, in a calming and intimate affectionate gesture.

Apparently this was something Sam was supposed to be upset about, but he didn't really understand what there was to be sorry about. To him, all this was just a huge mess of books and it didn't look like anything other than a smashed up library to him. Right now, he was more concerned about the heat radiating out from Dean's hand on his shoulder, than stupid old books.

“I don't know what happened here,” Dean said after a long pause of silence, reluctantly removing his hand from Sam's shoulder. ”We’ve been away for a long time. The last thing I remember is killing Death, losing the mark of Cain and some weird smoke surrounding us. I believe you were involved in a lot of what happened that day, but I was kind of hoping you would be able to explain it all to me—instead of me playing guess and seek here,” Dean said as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

He studied Sam's confused look with a pained expression before continuing. "Anyway, if you’re to provide any answers, I'm sure they’re somewhere in that mess,” he nodded towards the books on the floor. “This is your baby, and you write almost everything down, so I'm sure you can backtrack your movements if we just get this place cleaned up.” He got up, shooting a questioning look at Sam, as if he expected instructions or something.

Sam hesitantly walked toward the nearest bookshelf. Nodding to Dean to come help him get it upright. He figured if he was to be in charge of restoring the library, this was as good place to start as any. After having had Dean's help putting all shelves back in their places, Sam started sorting the mess of books on the floor. Pretty soon he realized that there seemed to be some system to the placement in the shelves and after that realization he was so engaged in his work he startled when he heard Dean call for him to come eat. He hadn't even noticed Dean leaving.

Sam approached the kitchen and was met with a radiantly happy grin from his brother as he showed a plate of food in his hands, kissing his cheek quickly before bidding Sam to take a place at the counter.

Sam, still a bit startled by the kiss on the cheek, sat down in a daze, bewildered at this new side of his brother. Was this how it was now? Affectionate cheek kisses and touching casually, as if they were an actual couple? Was Dean really okay with that? Dean grabbed a plate of his own and pulled a chair right up alongside Sam and sat down, much too close for common decency, and Sam guessed he had his answer.

“Any clues yet?” Dean asked halfway through his plate

“Uhm, no… not yet, but I think I had a system. It feels kind of familiar,” Sam replied, putting down his silverware for a moment to look at his brother, whom was sitting so close to him their thighs and shoulders pressed into each other.

“Of course it’s familiar—It's your system, Einstein!” Dean replied, smiling and gave Sam’s thigh a reassuring squeeze, but not really removing his hand. Instead, it just sat there, burning holes through Sam's jeans. Sam couldn’t hold back a sharp gasp as Dean's hand moved slowly up the inside of his thigh, Dean watching Sam's face closely.

As if on a given signal the both of them got off their chairs and meet each other in a desperate kiss, caressing and groping each other as if they may never again have the opportunity.

And maybe they won’t, Sam figured as he slid his hands under Dean's shirt. The food all forgotten and eyes only for each other, they pressed desperately into each other, the arousal of the other firing them both up in a never ending spiral of heat.

Their food went ice cold on the counter as they found themselves pressed up against the stainless steel refrigerator, panting and feeling each other up. When one was trying to break free and round off this heated makeout session, the other was quick to draw him in for another heated, violent kiss. Neither of them really wanting to end this opportunity for licking, biting and tasting the other’s mouth.

Eventually, though, after what might have been ten minutes—or twenty?—they managed to break away from each other. Neither of them really daring to take things further at this point.

Dean ran his fingers through his messy hair after disentangling himself from his brother and took a few steps towards the sink, cleared his throat before asking "Are we okay?" with a worried look on his face. He began picking up the dishes, distracting himself, but was obviously awaiting his brother’s answer with more concern than he was willing to admit.

"Yeah! We’re okay!" Sam smiled. In fact, he was more than okay, but for some reason he didn't want to jinx whatever it was they had going here by picking it apart. He didn't know if this new kind of relation between them was something lasting or just a need for them both to feel close again.

Like brothers.

Maybe not really like brothers, but he wanted to feel as close to Dean, as Dean obviously felt to him. Even if that was slightly more sexual in nature than what was considered appropriate.

He got back to his chores in the library eventually. The sorting and placing of books was soothing and distracting. Kept his mind off how much he enjoyed this; the two of them, here, together, playing house. Watching TV together, curled up on each other. Stroking Dean's hair absently. Kisses on the cheek while cooking, when someone said something adorable. Usually only kisses on the cheek, but sometimes something more, something more heated that left them panting and needy, longing for more but not giving themselves the pleasure.

Sam could live like this forever, him and his brother having this intimacy. He wanted more. God! He wanted so much more. If this was all that he could have though, he'd take it over the alternative any day.

“You’re stalling,” Dean's voice woke him up from his thoughts. Sam scrambled to his feet from where he was hunched over a pile of old books on the floor. He pushed hair out of his eyes before he shoved his hands down into his pockets. He had hoped to have a few more days before being confronted with the obvious. This had been to good to be true after all.

“Why do you say that?” Sam asked eventually, bowing his head letting his hair drape in front of his eyes again, as some kind of protective curtain. Protection from Dean’s probing emerald eyes. Eyes that got him so easily off balance. It was safer not looking at him.

“You have been in here sorting through books for a week now. Not even I would have been that slow at tidying this place up,” Dean said dragging his hand along a table where Sam had started sorting a bunch of journals. “I know you work faster than this, so I'm a bit curious— what's up with that?” He got closer to Sam and didn't stop until he was standing right in front of Sam.

Sam looked curiously at Dean with a tilted head, eyes peeking from under under the protective drapes of hair.

There was no use in pretending any more. He had been revealed. Sam took a deep, strengthening breath, straightening his posture and met his brother’s eyes. “Uhm… Well, I don't want this to end,” he mumbled eventually, once again stroking his hair behind his ears. There was no defenses now, he had to face this.”I don't want us to end,” he added and stroked Dean's upper arm affectionately in an attempt to soften the look on Dean's face that threatened to go stern on him.

“You think finding who did this to us and getting your memories back is going to put an end to this?” Dean stated just to make sure he didn't have the wrong impression.

Sam nodded in embarrassment. “D...Dean, I love what we have here together and if I get my memories back, I'm afraid I won't feel the same about you anymore, or rather feel differently about you,” he said and stepped in closer to place a light kiss on Dean's lips. “I don't want to feel differently about us,” he mumbled into Dean's hair, enjoying how Dean pressed into him at the slightest touch, wrapping strong arms around him.

“Hey, Sam, hey!” Dean said after a long pause of silence, he drew back slightly to meet Sam's eyes. “I love you! I love you like a baby brother and like a lover. I know I'm not supposed to feel the latter. I'm touched that you are willing to renounce your memories in order for me to be able to love you in both of those ways, but I can't let you do that,” Dean said in a low voice, kissing Sam gently on the cheek.

“Those memories of your childhood and you and me together are much more important than how we are together now,” Dean said and rubbed Sam's back soothingly.

“But I seemed such an awful person, Dean,” Sam said breaking free and pacing away from his brother. “Addicted on demon blood, hunting creatures ruthlessly, not giving a damned about anything as long as I got the job done. It wasn't a happy life, Dean—not that I can remember. All alone in different motel rooms. Why would I like to bring back more memories of that?” he demanded, upset.

“I wasn't happy. Not like I am now, when I'm with you. This makes me happy, Dean! Us—here. Please, let me have this just for a little while longer,” he pleaded, hoping his brother would understand what he meant.

“But you weren't an awful person, Sammy,” Dean said earnestly. “You made some mistakes. We both have made tons of mistakes, but you weren't alone. We always had each other. If you had your memories back you would know that, and you would know that what you apparently remember right now is only glimpses of you when you weren't yourself. Believe me, I know what it's like not being yourself. Hell, I spent last year not being myself. I probably would still be under the spell of the mark hadn't it been for someone—probably you—getting rid of it. I don't know how you did that though or what happened there,” Dean explained, walking towards the shelf containing the journals Sam had arranged there.

“We need to find out what really happened, and we need to figure out what that Smoke or darkness thing was? We need to find answers because if what Death implied before he died is true, we may be dealing with something awful here. The hunter community is upset and buzzing with all sorts of rumours,” Dean continued, picked out some journals at what seemed random. “I'm going to read through your latest entries in these journals to see if I can find any clues. I can do it myself, but I would appreciate your help. You are way faster than me at this research stuff,” Dean said and sighed heavily as he sat himself down at one of the tables. Apparently settling in for a few hours of research.

“There is no use in doing that,” Sam finally mumbled reluctantly, shifting his weight nervously. When he finally had his brother’s inquiring eyes on him he continued, “I've already read them,” he confessed and sat down on the nearest chair seemingly all too weak to stand all of a sudden. He desperately ran his hands through his hair, sucking in a deep shaky breath. “Please, Dean! I've fucked up so badly, I don't even know where to begin. I don't even know why I did what I did according to my notes in those journals, but I must really care about you a lot for doing all that,” he continued, head in his hands and rubbing his eyes in despair before he got off the chair all of a sudden. Walking over to Dean's side and dragged the nearest chair up alongside his brother, turning towards Dean so that they were eye to eye.

“Dean! I'm begging you one more time to let this alone. I really don't want my memories back. I think I may have caused something really bad to happen, a-and I'm not sure I can live with the guilt, or you hating me. God, Dean. I really messed up this time—big time,” he admitted, pleading into Dean's emerald green eyes.

“Yeah? Let me be the judge of that okay,” Dean eventually said after meeting his kid brother's gaze softly and stroked a wild strand of hair behind Sam's ear. “Tell me what you know, okay