Hi, this is my first story strictly about the Winchester brothers' love story so please show mercy!
I tried to write the most realistic and believable story I could, following the show's plot. It's based on season 9, beginning shortly after Kevin's death, and it's mixed with lots of flash backs.
I hope you'll like it!

The story can get dark, I prefer to warn you.

NB: I'm not an english native speaker, so feel free to make corrections if needed, it will be very appreciated :)


How did it all start?

Dean is in the bunker, pretending to research. He has drunk an entire bottle of bourbon, and he's still restless. He feels tense. Staying sit almost hurts. He doesn't know what to do. Well actually he does. He needs the blade. And he needs...he needs...no. He said they were not brothers anymore. He said he would have let him die. So, no. He won't beg for it. He still has pride, somewhere. We're just collegues, right? Collegues don't...well brothers neither. But he wasn't the one to always pretend they were special and that they didn't have to live by the same set of rules than everyone else.

I'm so fucked up.

He's angry at Sam. There is so much anger between them now. It didn't use to be like that before. It used to be simpler.

Dean remembers when they were kids, how easy things were. Well, easy, of course there were monsters and motels and long, long trips in the car but things were simple. There was Dad. Dean was the elder. And Sam was his baby brother.

Dean has always felt sudden burst of love for his brother, at the most unexpected times, since he was just a baby. He remembers very vividly when his mother came back home with this tiny, so tiny human being, and told Dean he could hold him if he was very gentle, and very careful. Dean held his brother, and Sam opened his eyes. He had bright blue eyes then, and even if it wasn't possible, Dean was sure the baby smiled at him. "He smiled Mommy!", he said, and his mother replied "I'm sure he did sweetheart". That was the firt time he felt it. This warmth, filling his heart, making him want to run and laugh at the same time. He certainly did that when he was four.

Now the only thing you could see when it happens is a hint of smile on the corner of his mouth. But the feeling is the same. The same.

After their mother died, Dean took care of Sam like a parent. Like what he thought a parent was. He used his memories of his mom, what he could see on TV, and a lot of imagination, but he always felt like he wasn't good enough. Sometimes Sammy was crying and he couldn't understand why. He was sure a mother, or a real father would have been able to. But the only thing their father said then was "Please make him stop". Sammy was crying all the time when he was little. The only thing Dean could do was holding him, and humming songs he remembered from kindergarten.

At 5, Dean felt already really old.

But the moment Sam started talking, everything became really great between them. All of Sam's attention was focused on Dean, all his love too. Sam was an innocent. In the beginning he didn't know anything about the monsters and everyhting. He was trusting and kind. Afraid of knives and pointy things. At night, he had nightmares, and every now and then he went to sleep in Dean's bed. He never tried to go to their father's, like any other child would. It was only logical, Dean was the one who took care of him. Growing up, when they began to work, hunt together, they became even closer. Dean taught Sam everything he knew, and he saw how good Sam was. Fast, unafraid, calm. Impressive. But he couldn't repress the anxiety that smothered him everytim Sam was in danger.

At 15, Dean knew what it felt like to be a worried parent.

When Sam reached teenage, he was spared by the awkwardness, and grew up gracefully, when other kids were plagued with acne and unease. It had been the same for Dean, and he thought his brother would be a little heartbreaker like him. Though Dean wasn't really a player. Sex, relationships, it was just a way to release the pressure. He never felt anything else than affection for his girlfriends, and he thought it was because of his lifestyle. Because he knew he couldn't get attached. But was it?

Anyway Saw wasn't really interested in girls. At 14, he was already quite tall, and Dean could see all the girls looking at him with shy interest. But he didn't see them. Sometimes, Dean would tease him, ask him if he wanted some dating advice. And Sam would answer agressively, something like "Mind your own business" or "I'm not interested in dating idiots like you do". Back then, Dean never thought about Sam's look when he brought a girl back home. Whatever "home" was, at the moment. He thought Sam was just annoyed. Because yes, usually the girl wasn't very bright and the walls were thin. Dean didn't know why he needed to bring girls back. He said he wanted a proper bed. That Dad took the car. He had plenty of good reasons, you know. Sam's contemptuous gaze whenever he brought a girl home made him laugh. Talking about how great the night was at breakfast made him incredibly satisfied. Oh come on Sammy, you'll find one to someday!

Bitch...Jerk...

Sam's sixteenth birthday was spent on a werewolf hunt. Of course, their father had forgotten, and had asked them to go on a mission for a week. Apparently he noted everything in his stupid notebook except his sons birthdays. As usual.

Dean wanted to tell him that they should all stay together and celebrate for once but Sam stopped him before he could end his sentence. Later in the car he said "I don't care he forgot, if there's one person I want to spend my birthday with, it's you, not that dick". Dean told him not to call their father a dick, and thanked him, before making a stupid joke about Sam being such a girl with all his feelings. But inside, he had felt that familiar burst of love, and joy.

The night of Sam's birthday, Dean invited him to the restaurant. Well more of a diner. But it was nice. There was music and burgers and beer. It was warm and people were friendly. Dean was checking out the waitress, out of habit, and Sam told him to stop. Dean asked why. Sam said it was annoying and Dean laughed. He said "maybe I could ask her to...you know. As a birthday present". He saw Sam clenching his jaw and mutter "Listen, it's not because we live in motels that we have to turn into truckers.". Dean didn't see he was angry, so he went on laughing and said "hey Sammy, one day, you'll have to use it, so why not tonight?". Sam left the diner. Dean thought he had been an idiot. Sam certainly felt humiliated. Why did he always felt the need to brag about his sex life with his brother? He was 20 damn it. Not a 14 years old.

So he ran outside. Sam was standing on the sidewalk, heavily breathing, turning his back on Dean who guessed his eyes were filled with tears. He suddenly remembered what he told him when he was little, when he had these panic attacks: "Breathe Sammy, breathe, happy thoughts ok?". But Sam wasn't a baby anymore so Dean apologized. "I'm sorry Sammy ok, I'm sorry, come back inside, I didn't mean to upset you". Sam turned to him, trying to look composed and said, "I'm not upset, I'm sad". Dean felt like a worried parent again. "Why are you sad Sammy? Tell me". "I can't tell you", said Sam, "It's not your fault and there's nothing you can do about it alright?". He had a sad smile, like he was longing for something. Dean thought he was probably sad their father forgot his birthday but didn't want to admit it. Sam and John had always had a complicated relationship.

After a big hug and a hair ruffle - Sammy and his girly hair! - they went back to the diner and had a nice time. A nice normal evening. And Dean promised himself not to make fun of Sam and girls anymore. That was a promise he was never able to keep.

Things got more and more tense between Sam and their father after that. It was difficult for Dean whose life revolved around his family. His worst fear was loosing that fragile balance. It was the only thing he had, and Sam was ready to toss it. A few weeks after Sam's 18th birthday, he told him he planned to go to college. Dean felt his heart break. He would never had thought it could be possible, to feel yourself crumble into a million pieces. But he was Dean Winchester. He tried to remain calm as everything was collapsing inside him, listening to Sam saying he couldn't stand this life anymore, that he wanted to leave, that he had a way out. "And you should come with me", he said, "you're intelligent Dean, I'm sure you could make your way out of it". Yeah right. "Stop pretending you're a redneck, only good at hunting because you're not". Dean suddenly felt anger filling his body. He stood up and said "Because you know who I am better than I do?". Sam walked to him and said that yes, he did, and he also knew what he really wanted. Oh really, what do I want then, tell me!

You want to be with me, he said, with something dark in his eyes.

Dean didn't want to see that darkness. So he said "But I am already with you! We're family!". He told him that leaving him and Dad before they had caught Yellow Eyes was treason. Sam laughed, desperately, saying "What is that? Full Metal Jacket? Are we in the fucking army? I've never signed anywhere, have I? Oh right! I was a baby, no one asked me!". Dean felt angrier and angrier. "Who took care of you", he said, "did you lack of anything? Huh? Tell me!". Sam had his sad look again. "This is not against you. You always took good care of me. That's why I...I think you, we deserve better. We could do better just the two of us, just...". He was getting closer to Dean, and he put a hand on his shoulder. Dean felt the warmth of his brother hand, and he put his hand over it. He didn't know what to say. Something was boiling inside him but nothing understandable could come of it. He couldn't look at Sam. He was half angry and half something else. Sad? No. Resentful? Maybe. But it wasn't it.

And Sam kept talking, he kept saying "I don't want us to be separated. I just want to be away from Dad. I don't want us to get hurt, I don't care about Dad's quest, Dean... I don't want to loose you". Dean froze. "Why would you?".

"Because we hunt monster, because we're not unvincible, because...you drink too much, you drive too fast because...There are so many reasons...Why won't you come with me?" Dean said he wasn't fit for the real world. That without hunting he would get bored. And as if to piss Sam off, he grabbed a bottle of Jack and began to drink. Actually he thought it would ease the turmoil he felt. Sam took the bottle and drank too, putting his lips right where Dean put his. And they kept on drinking, until the bottle was empty and the world felt a little fuzzy. Sam was trying to get some honesty from Dean, and he thought only whiskey could lower his brother's defenses, and he was right. Dean started to talk again.

"You know...I've never done anything else. And I'm not that clever, no, don't look at me like that. I'm street smart. But I'm not a nerd like you. I won't fit. I can't make friends, you saw me at school. Outside hunting I'm...I'm no one". And after saying that he walked to the fridge to grab another bottle. Sam let him, weighing every word he was going to say. " You're not no one." Dean began to drink again. " Yeah, I am. I'm your big bother, I know you think I'm awesome", he said, laughing a little, "but take my gun away and I'm just a John Doe". Sam drank " Not to me. Never to me. It should matter.", there was a pleading tone in his voice he wished he would have hidden better. " It does. It does but...". Dean couldn't quite grasp what he wanted to say and his brain was in a blur. But he kept drinking. Slowly sipping the bottle. There was something inside him he wanted to drown in alcohol.

Until Sam took the bottle away, and knelt right beside him. "Stop it." he said, slowly. "Talk to me, don't get wasted". Dean watched his brother's face, his beautiful eyes hidden behind his bangs, his concerned look...He ruffled his hair and Sam caught his hand, holding it tight. He remained silent, but rose slowly, until his face was on the same level than Dean's, their foreheads almost touching. "Come with me. Please." Dean caught Sam's neck. He could feel his pulse, and he noticed Sam's heart was racing. His own heart was too. What was he so afraid of? What was this fire in his veins, adrenaline?

"Tell me you'll come" Sam had just grabbed the back of Dean's shirt while saying that, and pulled him even closer. Something inside Dean urged him to push his brother away, but Dean didn't listen. Why would he push Sam away? He wanted to tell him he couldn't come because he was afraid, but what responsible adult would say that? He wanted to beg him to stay because he was the only one who actually care about him but he didn't want to sound needy. His heart began to feel painful.

"Please".

At that moment their forehead touched, and Sam touched Dean's cheek with his other hand, eyes closed, whispering in Dean's mouth "Please". And kissing him. It was almost accidental. Their lips touched, and Sam kissed Dean's upper lip while saying another please. Something in Dean broke. Before he could process the information, he was kissing Sam back, holding his face with his two hands, leaning into it. He felt that Love, but like a hundred times stronger. When they finally broke the kiss, Sam's cheek were wet with tears, and he kissed Dean again, on the mouth, the cheekbones and the corner of his eyes.

He said I love you.

And kissed him again. Suddenly Dean felt a feeling of fear he never experienced. Like a wave. Crushing him.

What have we done?

What the hell have we done?

He looked at the bottle and tried to blame it on the alcohol, but actually, said a vicious little voice in his head, you should thank it. You should thank it for not having a boner right now. For not being turned on by your little brother, and his swollen lips, his tears and...

Dean got up, mumbled a "sorry Sammy, I'm sorry" and stormed out the room. He tried to wipe his mouth with his hand several times, but the feeling wasn't going away. He felt like throwing up. His whole body was painful, and the adrenaline rush was so strong he could barely walk. He had to silence the voice in his head repeating endlessly he was a criminal.

He spent the night in a gloomy bar, spending all his money on cheap booze. Getting the most wasted he could to erase the memory. He remembered what his Dad said about Sam and how "different" from them he was, whatever that meant. And then he instantely called himself a dick for thinking for just one second that he could blame Sam. It was his fault. His. Everything he had done since that very moment led there. He created that situation by being too close to Sam. By being constantly with him. By being flattered by his interest, by his jealousy, by his...worshipping. By letting him sleep in his bed when he wasn't a kid anymore, and by far. By liking his touch. By...It was entirely his fault. And why didn't he push him away? Why did he even... He had never wanted this so why did he reacted like this. The voice was still there saying "oh yes you wanted this, and you know it". So he drank more shots to make it finally shut up. Shut up. I've never wanted any of this. We're brothers. He's my little brother. This is beyond wrong.

After throwing up once or twice he got into a bar fight about something he couldn't even remember the next morning. A fight he lost miserably. But he needed to be beaten up. He needed someone to hit him hard, to punish him, to kill him, maybe? But they just hit and hit and hit until they got bored, and two humans were never stronger that one vamp or one werewolf. He could still walk. Pussies he said. Pussies.

When he got back to the motel in the morning, he was still drunk and bloody. Sam was silent, scarily silent. He patched him up and put him to bed. Dean woke up only in the middle of the afternoon. And pretended he didn't remember anything. Not his finest hour. But he didn't see what else he could say, and maybe that if he refused to think about it he would just forget. Forget about what he felt when their lips...stop. It never happened.

Two months later, Sam was gone.

He drove him to the bus station since John wouldn't talk to him. The trip was heavily silent. Since that night they barely talked to each other, especially after Dean said to their father "If he wants to leave, let him go!" with a little contemptuous smirk that Sam would have liked to wipe out of his face with his clenched fist, he could see it in his eyes. He knew he was hurting him, but that was what he had to do. He had to let him go. Sam had a way out. A way to a normal life. And Dean didn't want to spoil it. He didn't want to taint him any more than he already did. Sam was still pure. Whatever Dad thought. And Dean rather had his brother hating him and having a normal life than loving him and wanting things that are just plain wrong.

When they arrived, they were early, and Sam got out the car and sit on the Impala's hood. After a few minutes, Dean joined him, a flask in his hand, and sipped a little alcohol.

"Sammy..." said Dean, not looking at him. Sam didn't let him continue. "Listen Dean, the bus is coming in 10 minutes, and since I might not see you again..." Normally, Dean would have joked about Sam using the word "might", but he remained silent. "I have to tell you something, and please don't interrupt me. I know you remember what happened that night and I want you to hear that: I don't regret it. I don't regret a second of it, and I would do it all over again if given the choice. You've been beating yourself up about it for days now, and I want you to stop. I wanted it, I still want it, and there is a seat for you in this bus if you want to come with me". Dean slowly turned towards Sam. "What?".

"I bought you a ticket", said Sam, with his sad smile Dean knew so well. "I thought you could change your mind" .

Dean first intention was saying yes and kissing Sam. But his self-righteous side crushed it before it could even reach his lips. He needs to be away from you, for his own good.

So he kept silent and he drank more. Sam looked even sadder.

"I see", said Sam, moving from the Impala. Dean grabbed his sleeve. "I can't. We can't.".

"We can", replied Sam, desperate anger filling his eyes."You're just afraid."

You're right, thought Dean. Afraid. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff and having no other choice than jumping to your death. Dean didn't even know how he would process Sam being gone, but going with him would mean...no. No.

"I know what you think. But i don't want to hear those word."

(Wrong, twisted, evil)

"Because it's not what I feel. There's nothing like that. I know you always tell me there is only right and wrong, humans and monster but you're wrong. Life is more complicated than that. We are more complicated than that."

No, we're not, thought Dean. There are rules, and rules are meant to be followed. We don't have a say.

"Just tell me something, just one thing, before I go." Dean drinked again and mumbled

"What?"

"Do you feel the same?"

Another sip.

"Do you?"

Another sip.

Sam tried to remain composed while his heart was crumbling.

"Since when?"

Another sip. Dean was amazed at Sam's ability to voice something like this. Something that made him want to grab his gun and burn his own brain. He couldn't say it. But he couldn't stand Sam's expression either. His "so you don't love me anymore?" face. It was a punch in the gut.

Sam tried to control his voice and said "Since my 16th birthday, for me. That's when I realized. When you invited me to that diner and tried to invite that waitress. I wanted you to see that...she...or anyone...wasn't the person I wanted to spend my evening with... "

Dean turned to him, his eyes filled with tears. "Sammy..."

"But you're still gonna let me go right?"

Dean got up and grabbed Sam's shirt, his voice trembling: "It's not what I want for you. I want you to have a normal life, the apple pie life. Don't laugh! I'm serious. I want you out of that darkness. You need to forget all of that, look at me, you need to forget that. You go to college, you get good grades, a girlfriend, friends, you can have it all Sammy you can have it all, I know it, just please, please...You said you loved me, then if you do, Sammy, if you love me, listen to me. You know i want what's best for you. What's best is away from me, for now."

Sam whispered "What about you?"

"I'll be ok. I'm always ok." said Dean, trying to smile. "And your bus is here, grab your bag" Sam grabbed his bag, and hugged his brother, maybe a little too long, making him promise to call, and write. Knowing he wouldn't. He walked to the bus, put his bag with the others, and then turned to Dean, standing on the other side of the road, looking at him, leaning on the Impala. He said "wait a minute" to the driver and ran to his brother.

Before Dean could say anything, Sam caught his jacket's collar and kissed him. Dean had to fight hard not to kiss him back. Sam then said sadly "Goodbye Dean", and ran back to the bus.

"Your boyfriend?" said the driver.

"Brother", said Sam.

And I don't care what you all think.