A/N: Emeralden Rapley asked me for a multi-chap evil!Dean fic with wincest. Well, I have other fics that I really need to finish, so I can't promise anything. This may not be as graphic as you might have wanted, Emeralden, but it's the best my muse could come up with.

Summary: If I ever meet up with Meg or any of my other relatives I'm ganking the whole damn lot of them. That's assuming Bobby and Ellen don't kill me when they find out there's nothing wrong with me. Evil!Dean POV with implied wincest. One shot.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment only, and not for profit.

I'm so sick and fuckin' tired of hearing Ellen say that "everything's gonna be all right. We're gonna fix this, Dean."

First off, there's nothing wrong with me. Nothing. Nada.

Just thought I'd make that clear.

So Bobby's got a panic room, huh? One minute I'm standing in his living room drinking a beer, and the next moment I wake up in here, strapped down to the bed by my wrists and ankles.

Never figured Bobby to be so damn kinky.

Gotta admit the man knows his stuff. I walked right into the trap like a friggin' newbie. I'm kinda embarrassed by this, y'know?

Don't know what Bobby did to me while I was out. I feel weak. 'm blindfolded and gagged. There's something on my chest that's weighing me down. Feels like metal, but I can't shake it off. All I can do is lie here and breathe.

Whenever Bobby and Ellen come in, Sam always hangs back. I can sense that much with my eyes closed like this. Sam won't come near the bed, won't even come into the room. Guess he thinks I'll bite him if he gets close.

Hey, been there, done that. He's my brother, all right?

Mine. Always has been, always will be. Well, until he decides to leave my freaky ass.

Dad never knew. I mean, Dad knew me and Sam were close, but letting him know that his two sons were screwing each other, and had been for years, well, that kind of freakiness was far beyond even what Dad would have expected. Sam and I decided that bit of info was something the old man just didn't need to know.

And knowing my Dad, he would have had a fit if he'd found out. Probably would have neutered both of his with his Bowie knife.

Speaking of Dad, when I figure all the things I've ever done for this family, you'd think he would have been more grateful, but nooo. Fat chance of that. First person I ever killed? Did it for Dad.

I was sixteen. His name was Ethan Wallace. Dude was a hunter. Cardinal sin, right?

Ask me if I care. I could hear all those thoughts inside his head. He hated Dad. Hated him, and smiled and laughed and grinned in his face, all the while he was planning on stabbing Dad in the back. Literally, first chance he got.

That kind of crap wasn't gonna fly, so all I did was imagine what the dude's heart looked like while it was beating in his chest. The heart's nothing but a muscle. And then I imagined my hands around his heart. And I squeezed as hard as I could.

Full stop.

Talk about dead as a doornail.

I killed a few more people after that before I finally got the hang of being PsychicBoy. Didn't mean to, though. Well, at least I didn't mean to kill half of 'em. Never got tied to any of it, either. The bodies were always found on the other side of town, far away from me, Sam or Dad.

Some of them were bullies at school. Some of the others were just guys who came around to see who the fresh meat in the neighborhood was. I wasn't about to get passed around like a library card. I had Sam and he had me, remember? Didn't need anybody else.

I messed up the electricity in their brains. Closed off the blood supply to their hearts. Some of 'em died of strokes. I've always been able to see stuff like that in my head. Simple, quick and easy. I didn't know my own strength.

All this time I had the feeling that the bastard Dad was searching for, that yellow eyed fuck, was searching for us just as hard. Was searching for me. I could feel it sometimes. Made my skin burn like I stuck my finger into a live electrical socket, and I knew he was close, but he didn't know where I was. I got a glimpse of yellow eyes, smelled sulfur. Didn't take a rocket scientist to realize what was out there, and that was about the only time I ever prayed, to whoever, because I knew if this damn thing found me, the shit was gonna hit the fan.

Seems like somebody up there was listening. Or maybe it was the Dude Downstairs. Yeah. That's more likely.

I had a lot on my mind, and Dean Junior really wasn't up to anything, if you know what I mean. At night Sam crawled into my bed same as he always did, and at first he got mad when I didn't want to touch him. He'd give me those puppy dog eyes, put his arms around me and try to kiss me. Sometimes I'd growl at him and he'd back off. Turn my back on him and give him the cold shoulder.

"What the hell's the matter with you, Dean?" Sam always sounded hurt. He's such a big damn girl.

"Nothin'. Just don't feel like bein' bothered with your Sasquatch ass tonight."

Sometimes I gave in. Couldn't help it. All this time it was me and Sam, and never mind that we're brothers. Nobody else gets this. I don't expect them to. I'd lay there feeling like a total girl afterwards but it felt good to have somebody care for me, somebody to get close to me. Everyone leaves me. Maybe it would be better if I left. I'd rather see Sam and Dad mad at me than see them get ripped apart.

That store clerk in Breton, Indiana? He was just some poor schmuck doing his job. I was a little pissed off that day…well, hell, I was more than a little pissed off, all right? Dad had been gone for over three weeks on a hunt, the rent was coming due again and Sammy and I were staring at a refrigerator filled with cobwebs and half a clove of garlic. Gee, thanks, Dad.

When I walked in the store I glared dark gold at the cashier and his brains exploded out of his ears.

There were three other customers in the store that day. I took them out too, and the surveillance cameras. I hate those things.

Figured if I was in deep I might as well go all the way. I cleaned out the cash register. Didn't take anyone's wallet or purse.

Felt kinda funny about doing that. This wasn't about their money.

Knew something was wrong when I staggered inside the apartment with the bags of groceries. Felt like the top of my head was gonna come off. I was burning up with fever. Sam touched my shoulder and I felt like killing him, too, but I didn't.

I don't remember how I got into bed after that. I do remember Sam kissing me on the forehead before he put a cool towel against my forehead. He held me, rocked me to sleep.

I dreamed some bad shit while I was out. Dreamed that Dad found out what I am. There was plenty of blood and at first I couldn't figure out who was screaming, begging like that.

Then I realized it was me.

I kept waking up. I'd jerk myself awake, and Sam was always there, on the bed beside me. He looked spooked, and there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it. Couldn't stay awake. I'd drift off again, and it would be the same old thing all over again, me spreadeagled naked on top of this devil's trap, while Dad carved into me with a blessed knife, told me how disappointed he was in me.

Sometimes Dad had yellow eyes. I knew who was fucking with me, then.

"You're special, Dean," he'd say to me as he made the first cut. He stuck the tip of the knife into my collarbone, dragged it all the way down to my belly button. "Gifted. You've come so far, so fast. And you hid yourself from me. Until now." He jammed the knife into my hip and when I bucked upwards and screamed he smiled. "Can't hide anymore, little boy."

Last time I passed out I didn't wake up until the next day. Stumbled around the apartment with a headache for two days after that. Sam's eyes were as big and round as saucers. He was scared for me, and I sure as hell didn't like that. When I looked in the mirror I was pale, with large dark circles underneath my eyes.

Now I might not be the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer, but I knew that if I kept on like this I was gonna wear myself out. I'd pushed myself too damn hard. When the landlord showed up for the rent a week later, I said something to him. My voice sounded funny , but I wasn't mad or anything.

I just said out loud that we had already paid the rent for that month, and he should just get in his SUV and drive until he reached California, and the Pacific Ocean.

Mind you, we were in Indiana at the time.

The dude did. I didn't tell him to drive into the ocean. Dumb sonofabitch did that on his own.

I had dreams about that yellow-eyed bastard from then on. Talk about a friggin' drama queen. He came around wearing different meatsuits. I could always recognize him, even without the gold in his eyes. I guess I was supposed to fall down and worship him. I never did, and that really pissed him off.

I told Ol' Yeller to back off and leave us alone.

Never told Dad.

Then there was that business with Meg and the Colt, the crash and the hospital later. Dad made the deal for me. Even though he probably would have killed me on the spot if he'd known what I was, I wish…I wish he hadn't. He was still my Dad, y'know? My Dad, not that yellow-eyed creep.

Me and Sam's sex life during that whole year was nothing to write home about, namely 'cause it was nothing much. I couldn't go to sleep in the same bed with him. I didn't trust myself. It wasn't the same, you know? I don't cuddle. Hell no. But I sleep better with Sam's arms around me. Not gonna let him know that. Fucking him and then jumping in the other bed to go to sleep? That didn't appeal to me. At all.

I'd dream about Ol' Yeller dressed in Dad's skin carving on me with that knife, and I'd always wake up yelling. Once I pulled my knife out from under my pillow and slashed at the air with it.

Sam was halfway across the room by that time.

I was afraid I'd lash out in my sleep, make Sam have a heart attack or something. We tried separate rooms, even though if I really got that wound up and wanted to hurt him, he could have been halfway across the country and none of that would have mattered.

And I swear I could hear that yellow-eyed sonofabitch laughing his ass off.

Sam finally gave me the bitchface one day, just as we were about to check into another skeezy motel. "Separate beds, maybe, Dean." He thrust his chin out and glared at me. "No separate rooms from now on."

I opened my mouth to say something. Still can't remember what.

"I mean it, dude. We gotta track that bastard down soon and kill him, 'cause I can't take much more of this."

I closed my mouth and paid the clerk for a single room. With king sized beds.

I really thought at one point Sam was going to say "to hell with this freak show" and ditch me. Hell, everyone else does, right?

He didn't. He hung in there. We had our moments. In the back seat of the Impala on an open road somewhere isolated. On the hood of the Impala.

And the trunk.

Felt like apologizing to my girl afterwards. I washed and waxed her. Gave her a tune-up, too.

Three months later Ol' Yeller made his move. I walked into that diner looking for onion rings and pie, and as soon as I set foot in the place my head started hurting like a bitch. I saw all these neon colors and then pitch black.

I woke up in Cold Oak.

Met a few of my brothers and sisters up there, like Ava, Andy and Jake. I cleaned house. Hadn't come this far just to be offed by damn amateurs. Felt kinda sorry for Lily, but I did her a favor when I killed her. She didn't seem to mind.

The good news was Old Yeller showed up. Even better news was, I had the special Colt with me. Got the impression he really thought I wouldn't pull the trigger.

His mistake.

That night Sam and I celebrated by humping like rabbits. Used the credit cards and bought champagne and everything.

And pie. Blueberry. And cherry.

If I ever meet up with Meg or any of my other relatives I'm ganking the whole damn lot of them. That's assuming Bobby and Ellen don't kill me when they find out there's nothing wrong with me. Said that before, didn't I? Don't think I'm getting out of this.

Everybody leaves me. Cassie did, and I expect Sam to. He can have normal after this. Wouldn't blame the kid for that. Life around me would be anything but.

Somebody just opened the door, so I guess it's showtime. 'm tired, you know? Tired of hiding what I am. All I can do is just lie there, and when whoever this is unbuckles the restraints from around my ankles, I don't even react. I can't move anyway.

It's…it's a trick. Gotta be.

And then they pull that containment amulet off my chest.

I take a deep breath, and my wrists are freed next.

Gag's off next. I start blinking when the blindfold is taken off.

Everything's still fuzzy, but it's Sam, I know it is. He didn't ditch me. He didn't.


My body starts shaking and I can't stop it. My teeth are chattering. I'm cold all of a sudden, like I'm in a damn meat locker or something. I'm too weak to do anything else but lift my arms up as he slides something around me.

Takes me a minute to realize it's my leather jacket.

I put my arms in the sleeves, and I'm so weak I can't even put on my own leather jacket without Sam's help. He puts his arms around me, and pulls me onto his lap. I don't know how long it is before I finally stop shaking like that. I feel warmer now. I don't wanna move but hell, Bobby and Ellen are around somewhere and we sure as hell can't stay here.

"You okay?" Sam mumbles. I can feel his breath on the top of my head.

"Hell yeah."

"All right then, Princess. Let's roll."

I lean into Sam as he lifts me up. Him being taller than me doesn't bother me most of the time. Hell, Sasquatch is taller than damn near everybody out here. The floor seems further away than I thought, but by the time we reach the door I've gotten the hang of walking again. Sorta.

"What about Bobby and Ellen?"

"They're around," Sam says flatly.

I smell blood and salt, gasoline and smoke. "Dude. You didn't."

"They wouldn't listen to me. Told them you were nothing to worry about."

I roll my eyes at him. "Geez. Thanks a lot."

I'm still limping by the time we get to the Impala. My thighs are still cramping up on me, and I don't bitch much as Sam leans me against the side of the car and massages both legs down to my knees.



"Give me the keys, 'cause 'm drivin'."

We hit the highway and five minutes later the smoke from Bobby's place is even more visible. I glance at Bobby's books, at the duffels filled with Bobby's stuff on the back bench seat.

Sam shrugs. "All they had to do was let me leave with you." His fingers tighten on the steering wheel. "They wouldn't listen."

All I can do is nod.

No more hiding then. We'll have hunters after us now, hunters and demons too. I heard through the grapevine that Azazel's people weren't too happy about him dying. I'm number one on the hit parade now.

And so is Sam.

Sam sees that look on my face and frowns. "Something wrong?"

I start laughing then. Doesn't matter how this thing ends. Probably bloody. Maybe not. We're together, and that's all I care about. Sam's all I need.

I slip my sunglasses on as I scoot down against the seat. "Nothing's wrong. Drive, dude. Just drive."