-Note- This is one of those songs that just grabs you and doesn't let go, at least for me. It screamed Sam and Dean. I listened to it over sixty times when I was writing this, lol. So I decided that this song was just too amazing to pass up and that you needed to be able to hear this while reading to completely feel it. SO! go here: http://www. sendspace. com/file/165xt3 (take out the spaces between the www. and the .com too!) and review away! -Note-

Your fear it moves me.

Sam shivered beneath his hands. Anticipation and fear vibrating off him. Dean knew it, could feel it. It was the same fear and anticipation he felt when he saw Sam or when Sam looked his way. It'd gotten worse since they'd started this.

He'd never thought a hug could bring him to this place in time where Sam whimpered at his kisses and clung to him. His fear pushing him and pulling him until he was so lost in Sam he couldn't find his way back out again. Didn't want to find his way out again.

Your weakness I taste.

Dean bit lightly at Sam's mouth, his eyes traveling down the arch of his neck to his clenching stomach muscles. It was so hard to turn away from this when he knew he could have it. Sam had always been his weakness, but this was something different. This was a weakness they both shared. The kind of weakness that was palpable to the point of drowning in it.

He trailed kisses along his jaw, the soft hitch in Sam's breath turning his stomach. His tongue darted out, tasting salt, sweat, and Sam. Tasting their weakness, overwhelming and numbing to his senses.

I breathe you, I hate you.

Sam's hands threaded in his hair, dragging Dean's mouth back to his. Pleading with him to stop thinking, to just feel. Feel the way he was and forget that they were brothers. That their lives were twisted up and entwined forever.

He loved Sam. And he hated him. For every sinful look or touch, he felt that hate grow just a little bit more. For every kiss or bite, he felt that love grow just a little bit more too. He hated him for all the ways he confused him and he loved him for every way he made him feel alive.

He'd always made him feel alive.

So irreparably damaged and alive.

You course through my veins.

He tore his mouth from Sam's, guilt filling him up. He pressed his lips softly to Sam's forehead, silently asking for his forgiveness. He'd been the one to start this, to bring these feelings to the surface despite everything they'd been taught. Who was he to have doubts? To want to push him away, to pull back after he'd forced Sam into facing facts?

Sam was in every part of him. Always had been. Deep down he'd known it all their lives, in the darkest parts that they never talked about. That they would never talk about. He'd felt it grow with Sam.

Every year his brother grew older, stronger, more independent. And that need grew with him. Wanting to keep him close and safe and completely his as he'd always been. He didn't want change. He didn't want anyone else to be a part of their lives, a part of them.

Not even Dad. It had always been him and Sam, and that was how he wanted it. Needed it. Dean and Sammy.

And now.
And now.

Now he had him. In every way he could.

He growled low in his throat as Sam's fingers deftly popped the button on his jeans. He'd become much too good at this, too impatient. Knowing with each passing night that it grew harder for Dean to lie to himself.

Not about loving Sam, because even when he hated Sam he loved him more. But about living through this. His heart was tearing, ripping at the seams with every kiss, every stroke of Sam's slender, knowing fingers.

Dean kicked his jeans off, making quick work of Sam's as well. The pain in his heart and the screaming in his mind couldn't keep them apart. The love and pleasure he felt inside and out when he made love to Sam was stronger than anything in him. It had to be or Dean would never have strayed this far from his father's expectations.

You want me. You love me.

Sam reassured him with every kiss that he wanted this, that he loved Dean. Sam reassured him with every kiss that he owned him. That Dean would never be able to get away from him. That this would kill him.

And he kept coming back for more. Because Sam wanted him, because Sam loved him. In every way Dean had always known and feared.

Next came Sam's boxers and the gasp of surprise, like this was the first time and the last. They both knew it wasn't true, deep down, somewhere, they knew. Dean stared down at his younger brother, memorizing the rise and fall of his chest. The muscles in his neck standing out in stark contrast. Such self restraint that Dean couldn't even pretend to have with him.

And I hate myself.

He'd ruined something elemental in Sam. He hated himself for it, but he couldn't deny it. Sam's words, his accusations of being too selfless and never doing what was best for himself mocked Dean. How selfless was he now?

His hands traced the curves of Sam's body. Sick satisfaction at Sam's release of breath and need forcing him to keep going. To keep pushing until he got to the point that none of it mattered. Until he got to the point that it was all about Sam and what he needed.

Until he got to the point that he could lie his way through anything. Even this.

I need you, but I hate you.
'Cause I want nothing else.

Why did he have to need this? Probably more than Sam did.

Why was this the only thing he'd ever wanted for himself? His younger brother wasn't property. Wasn't something he could buy or sell and yet here he was, marking him. Staking his claim on the one man in the world he had no right to. Should have no right to.

Right or not, he sucked Sam's sensitive flesh into his mouth, leaving blood bruises on every exposed piece of skin he could find. Blood bruises already scattered across his well defined body, next to scars and half healed wounds with tremendous irony. None of which was lost on him.

And I bleed you since I've healed you.

It'd been comfort and the need to heal gaping wounds that had drawn him in. That had ripped away what was left of his resistance. Or more accurately it was the fresh tear tracks on Sam's face that drowned him, his mouth the only source of air he could even think of drawing from now.

Pain and torture- things that should never mar his brother's sweet face; wounds on Sam's soul that Dean bled for. Wounds he'd taken voluntarily. Anything to get that look off Sam's face. Anything to stop his tears and trembling jaw.

Sam was so strong and sure. When Dean wanted to pack it in and run, to protect Sam from the future everyone had set upon him, he was the one that pushed on. That pushed Dean. To see that strength dissipating with his tears was all the convincing Dean needed to bleed.

His mouth returned to Sam's jaw, remembering how it had trembled the first time. First from his tears, then from fear and pleasure just after. He kissed it softly, slowly, taking his time in remembering. It was steady now and strong again. The only trembling it would do ever again, would be from pleasure.

Your pain escapes through me.

He could take on Sam's pain. Let it out through kisses and soft cries in the dark. This was Sam. Sammy. His baby brother. The only one that had ever made him feel. What was a little pain for the one that could bring you to life so easily?

"I love you," he whispered softly against Sam's jaw.

He moved on, not waiting for an answer. Unable to hear the words he needed the most. Reveling in what he could have- the physical.

For now at least.

'Cause I breathe you, but I hate you.

Fuck if he didn't love this moment when he had Sam pinned beneath him, begging. Breathing him in, tasting his desire. He hated this moment more than he hated himself. That's what he told himself anyway, because he hoped it would help him move on. It hadn't worked yet. He was still there. Wanting and asking for more. Demanding Sam's eternal soul.

It was no small price they were paying. For Dean it was nothing, but Sam…this was his soul. Dean was selfish enough to ask him night after night to sacrifice that, to damn himself in life and in death. Still he asked. He hated, he loved, and he begged. Only Sam's begging echoed in his ears, his screamed back silently.

Dean's mouth pressed harder, more insistently as he moved lower. All of Sam's clothes were gone and he's left with no excuses or reasons to pull back. Not because he wanted to, but because he needed to. That's not enough reason for him to stop though. Never had been.

'Cause they say we could never be.
They can't see.

The wet heat of his mouth wrapped around Sam hungrily, a loud cry echoing in the room around them. Neither said it, but he knew they were both thinking it. That first time or last time it would never get any better than this for them. No one could ever change this. No one could ever understand them. No one could ever see beyond brothers.

How could they when they were barely able to themselves?

Dean least of all. The instinct to protect and love guilt tripping his desire at every turn. Kicking and clawing at his heart with every wasted moment of guilt when he could be inside Sam. Could be tasting him.

I know I shouldn't love you.
There's just too much to fake.

Dean knew this was wrong. He didn't need anyone to tell him that. How hard was it to understand that you didn't love your brother? That you didn't think about him every waking moment and wonder how he'd taste or feel underneath you? You didn't have to be a genius to know that this was wrong. That if anything in the world was wrong, loving your brother was.

He was supposed to protect him. To keep people from hurting him or taking advantage of him. But how could he protect Sam from himself? When he was everything he'd ever had, ever wanted…he couldn't give that up so easily.

It was too hard to play games anymore. To fight what he'd been fighting since Sam had turned sixteen.

Sam's hands fisted in his hair, guiding his mouth up and down his throbbing member. His hips stayed obediently on the bed, giving a little jerk now and then when Dean's tongue wrapped around the head or took him further than was comfortable down his throat.

But you see me, and I feel you.

Dragging himself from Sam's cock, he devoured his mouth again and tried to forget everything else. To forget how wrong this all was. To forget that he wanted Sam to come in hot spurts down his throat and fuck his mouth raw. It wasn't as easy as he'd hoped, but it wasn't as hard either. Sam had been his for so long, had been the only one who had bothered to see him as something more than a son, a hunter, or just another guy in a bar that could give them a night of great sex. And as much as he wanted to forget that or the fact that he felt everything Sam felt without even trying, he couldn't.

There were a lot of things he couldn't do when it came to Sam.

Like forget. Or move on.

And I am not afraid.
I'm not afraid.

Sam stared up at him through lust filled eyes, his tongue flicking out to wet his red, swollen and bruised lips. He wouldn't ask. He never did. Sam swallowed back feer and took what Dean would give him; gave everything Dean would take.

Dean wasn't scared like Sam was. He was too numb and guilt ridden to feel any fear. He'd resigned himself to the fact that his soul was condemned and had been since Sam was sixteen.

Sam hadn't had the kind of time Dean had, had to get over that. And yet Sam was the one that kept pushing and begging. Maybe Dean wasn't as resigned to this as he'd thought, too caught up in his brother to realize even that.

His hand slid between them, finishing what his mouth started. Sam's eyes slipped shut, his back arched, and he let go when Dean couldn't.

And I bleed you since I've healed you.

Wrapped up and tangled in sheets, in Sam, he could remember every reason clearly that he shouldn't do this. Could taste the regret on Sam's tongue. Or maybe it was his own regret he tasted. It didn't matter, did it? Regret tasted the same. Bittersweet and intoxicating. Regret had Sam's name written all over it.

He should have known that the minute his gaze had lingered a little too long on Sam's body, or his hands a little too long in his hair or against his stomach after an afternoon of what should have been brotherly bonding instead of sentencing.

Sam rolled over onto his side, cuddling closer to Dean. Hs eyes were heavy with sleep. He barely had the energy to smile reassuringly or pleadingly, more than likely both, before he was dragged under. Being in love with your older brother is emotionally taxing, it had to be when Dean pulled and pushed so infrequently.

Your pain escapes through me.

Cursing himself, he nudged Sam awake and sealed his mouth over his before he could question him. Sam didn't protest, his hands cupping Dean's face gently as he took control of the kiss. Dean had been in control all night and he wanted this kiss for himself. Sam could have that kiss and a thousand more as far as Dean was concerned. He'd give everything up to him.

If he thought it could ease Sam's pain he would do it. Regrets and hatred be damned. He wasn't going to sit back and watch him hurt when he could bleed for him.

'Cause I breathe you, but I hate you.

'Cause they say we could never be.

Dean fought down the sudden anger boiling inside of him. Sam hadn't done this to him on purpose. He'd been a victim in this; more than Dean. Controlled by emotions and desires that had surpassed them in strength and logic.

Logic had no place in the whirl wind of emotions that had taken them over. Logic had no place with Dean when it came to Sam.

Only pain, pleasure, hate and love could find their way to the surface. Tightly leashed behind kisses and moans. The physical was so much easier to deal with than matters of the heart.

It seems the pain's been traded,
Since I pulled you through.

Sam's tongue tangled with his, stroking and loving Dean's mouth with an intensity that surprised him each time and melted his resolve. He moved closer, pressing his body full against Sam's. He felt his brother smile against his lips before renewing his efforts to suck Dean's soul out through his mouth.

He slipped his hands into Sam's silky brown hair and kissed him back with as much passion and raw emotion as he could without breaking what was left inside of him. Sam's leg pushed between his, grazing his painful erection. He jerked his hips back but refused to let Sam break the kiss. He wanted to give to Sam tonight, not take. There'd be plenty of other nights for him to give in. He was as sure of it as he was of his love for Sam and the fact that walking away would take more strength then he would ever have.

And now my mind's been so jaded.

How could he walk away from this and from Sam? How could Sam not? He was so confused. So lost, he felt like screaming. At Sam and at himself for letting things go this far. For letting a hug, letting innocent comfort destroy what was left of them.

He would only half mean it so he doesn't breathe a word. It would be like denying he loved Sam. It would be like flat out lying.

Sam sighed against his mouth, sucking air into his abused lungs while Dean held his a few seconds longer. Only breathing when it became absolutely necessary. He wanted to remember the breathless feeling that came with Sam's kisses.

It only took Sam a few minutes to get his breathing back to normal and his mouth back on Dean's. They were both suckers for abuse, for breathless, soul damning kisses that ripped open old wounds and made new ones without meaning to.

And I would kill myself for you.

I'd die for you.

It would kill him to walk away from Sam. But he would do it. Somehow, some day he would find a way to save Sam. He just didn't know how. Or even why. They were both damned already. Him long before Sam.

Not only that but Sam wouldn't let go easily either. He'd fought for Dean once and he would do it again. If he loved him he'd never let go. If he loved him he'd never let him stay. Each emotion contradicted the other and confused him a little more.

And I bleed you since I've healed you.
Your pain escapes through me.

Sam pulled back to relearn how to breathe and this time when he tried to take Dean's mouth back, he stopped him.

"Sleep, baby," he whispered and hid his face in Sam's hair.

A contented sigh broke free of Sam and he nodded. He pressed his hands to Dean's chest and buried his face in the crook of his neck. "I love you," Sam answered sincerely. Dean had stopped him earlier, but now what was the point?

He'd called him baby. He'd thrown in the towel. What difference did any of it make anymore?

'Cause I breathe you, but I hate you.
'Cause they say we could never.

He wrapped his arms around Sam and let him sleep peacefully now. They were both drained and would wake to soul searing kisses no matter how long they kept it up. He might as well make sure Sam got some rest this time.

Dean had been keeping him up every night the past two weeks. His guilt and anger growing faster and stronger. He'd needed to mark Sam, to claim him in every way he could before the tension inside built so strong it snapped and shattered every last bit of his heart and soul.

And I bleed you since I've healed you.
But I hate you, but I breathe.

God, this was so wrong. How many times before had he said that? How many times had he chanted that to himself over and over again when Sam walked into a room?

And I see you.

He didn't understand how it could feel so right. How the taste of Sam could make him so weak. How he could let it make him so weak.

And I feel you.

He felt Sam in every part of him. He couldn't walk away from him. But why couldn't he try?

And I hate you.

He loved him and hated him so much he felt as if his heart would give out. And it only made him hate Sam more because that was what he wanted.

But I'd die for you.

He wanted his heart to give out. He wanted his love and his hatred for his brother to swallow him whole; he wanted to die for Sam.

I'd die for you.

For his love, this sin. He'd die for Sam.