Hey guys! Okay so this is me first Supernatural Fanfic. It is wincest and it is has a very distinct lemon scent. So ye have been warned!!!!

For those of you who have read 'A Curse's Upside.' Don't worry I haven't given up onit. I just have a severe case of writer block.

Disclaimer-Supernatural does not belong to me. Eric Kripke is the genius who gets to claim that.



Sam started to wake up slowly. The fogginess of sleep was still clinging to the edges of his mind, dulling his senses. He thought he heard a voice, or perhaps it was just another dream. He had those often. Often enough to learn to ignore them, but this time it seemed different. The voice seemed real.


His head whipped around to the figure on the bed next t him. Dean. He hastily threw back the covers of the small motel bed and got up. He crossed the small distance separating the two beds in less than a second and stood in front of his sleeping brother. His dark eyes scanned his brother's body swiftly, checking for any signs of injury or distress. But nothing seemed to be wrong.

They had just finished a hunt less than seven hours ago and had decided to stop at the run down motel for some much needed shut eye. It was just a simple salt and burn. A poltergeist had been terrorizing a young newlywed couple. It turned out to be the wife's ex who had committed suicide in the name of love and was now taking it out on the couple. It had been easy to salt and burn the bones. A heck of a lot easier compared to all the angel crap they had been dealing with lately. But not so easy as to get away without being thrown into a couple of walls before leaving.

But being covered in bruises and scars was nothing new to them in this life they had led, so that shouldn't be what was causing his brother to moan so piteously. Sam sat on the edge of his brother's bed and gently touched his shoulder. The same shoulder that was covered with the mark of Castiel. The angel who had saved Dean. The angel who did the one thing Sam hadn't been able to do.

Gritting his teeth he gripped his brother's shoulder a little harder and gave a firm shake. Dean started to stir but was still asleep. Still dreaming.

Dean was back there. Back in this place of continuous torture and pain. Stuck in an ever constant loop of death and screams. Looping over and over again. Think you reached the end of the disk? Nope. Just hit replay. Over and over and over.

Except it wasn't ever the same. Not really.

There is comfort in balance. Safety in stability. Normalcy breeds contentment. Even if the norm for you is pain, death, and hate. So even those in Hell had learned to be creative. Always changing up the pace. Stop. Go. Slow Down. Speed up. Dean was never sure if he was being starved or filled until bursting. HE could have been drowning in water for all he knew, but at the same time all he would feel would be the sensation of falling.

That was a personal favorite of his torturers. Falling. Never sure of when he would hit the ground and go splat. The panic always riding his body never letting him relax his tense muscles, tears streaming from his eyes. In a way it was a relief when he was finally allowed to die. Again.

Dean smiled grimly in his state of dreaming. Being burned alive seemed to be the only thing that people got right when talking of Hell. And they weren't even close to the truth of how horrible it really was. When most people spoke of Hell it was always fire, and brimstone. A lake of fire. Flames licking at your feet, ash clogging the atmosphere so completely that you are unable to draw a breath. Lava and the scent of sulphur permeating the air around you. Screams of those who are burning up, never dying. Still alive when your bones split and turned to dust, just like those who he used to hunt. Yeah, that was Hell.

But there were so many more aspects of it that people had never seemed to consider. He was stuck in of those scenarios now. And he was cold.

Freezing. Frigid. Frost bitten. Hypothermic. And he knew he would never be warm again.

In this frozen tundra of a wasteland he was positive that he was the only living being. His heart was beating a much slower rhythm than usual. It was basically flat lining. But he didn't care. Not really. Because all he wanted was to be warm. He would even trade this landscape for the fire and brimstone.

There wasn't any snow.

He found that odd. Shouldn't a place as freaking cold as this have snow? Just like that time in Michigan when he and Sammy had been celebrating his 'final' Christmas there had been snow eventually. Of course that only after they had killed the pagan gods who had been eating a few happy holiday goers as a little early Christmas gift to themselves, but who really stressed the details today anyway?


Oh look. One of his blackened frost bitten fingers had fallen off. Ow. He could feel that. He shouldn't be able to feel that. If he was that cold then his whole body should be numb. That was one of the things that seriously sucked about Hell. Nature never followed the rules.

So. Cold.

He wished he was warm. Just a little bit.

The arm beneath Sam's arm started to shake. At first he thought that maybe Dean was starting to wake up.


But he received no answer. Sam frowned. His brother was the lightest sleeper that he knew off. He made the mistake when he was ten years old of trying to sneak into Dean's bed after he had had a bad dream. He still had a pale white scar on his arm from where Dean had slashed before he was fully awake. So Dean not waking up, arms swinging, was disturbing.

Sam leaned over his brother a bit more and gripped both arms now.


His whisper was harsh but not overly loud. But in the end it did the trick. Dean shot up chest heaving as he tried to gasp in lungfuls of air. His moss green eyes were round and anxious. He looked everywhere sketchily, as if the very shadows cast by him and Sam would hurt him.

Sam felt the clammy skin on Dean's back and noticed the sheen of sweat that covered his entire body. His hand lay flat against his back, trying to rub soothing circles into his tense muscles Sam couldn't help but notice how fast his brother's heart was beating. A minute passed of them just sitting there. Sam comforting his brother and Dean trying to calm the freak down.


Dean's voice broke through the silence that had encompassed them and restored Sam's relief at his brother waking up.'

'Yeah, Dean, I'm here.'

Dean let out a sob of relief that he tried to muffle. Sammy. The motel. Here. He was here beside Sammy. And it wasn't a dream. It was real. Hell was in his past. He didn't have to go back, and he didn't have leave Sammy again. He was so happy right now that he could hardly stand it. Even on the edges of his nightmare he was able to have hope all because of his little brother.



Sam heard the question in his brother's voice and had to grin. His brother always did sound like a four year old when he wanted to ask something. His innocence that he had lost long ago would always shine through in those moments.

'I'm cold.'

Dean hated to ask anybody for anything. He was raised to be self sufficient. Especially when it came to his brother. He was supposed to take care of Sammy. He bit his lip after saying Sam's name out loud. He glanced towards the bed and then back at Sam, a question and a plead all in one glance. Hope coursed through him as Sam's face lit up.

'Scootch over.'

Sam happily lifted the covers and slid in next to Dean His body molding perfectly to fit his big brother's. Sam had worn his customary t-shirt and boxers to bed but Dean had been to tired to do much else but strip before getting into bed, so he was only clad in his underwear. And even though Dean shivering with cold was not something that made Sam happy, a half naked Dean more than made up for that fact.

He quickly draped his large arm across Dean's chest and pulled him against him tight. He smiled slightly when he heard Dean mummer, 'Warmth.'

'Sam nuzzled the back of Dean's neck, his nose being tickled by the dark blond strands of his brother's hair. Even in the moonlight you could see the goldenness of his skins, the smattering of freckles across his perfectly shaped nose. And his lips. Gol, Dean's lips were so full, and pouty, even now when they were pulled tight over his chattering teeth.

'What's wrong Dean?'

'Nothing Sammy. Its just freakin cold.'

Sam looked at the dormant air-conditioning unit dubiously. HE then glanced at the full moon shining brightly on the Arizona desert outside.

'Dude, it like seventy degrees outside.'

'Yeah well, I'm freezing.'

Sam was quiet for a moment, deciding whether or not to call Dean out on, what he was sure a lie.

'I heard you Dean.'

Dean stiffened immediately. Shoot. What did he say? He never had been prone to sleep talking before but lately he had let a few murmurings get past his shields. He didn't want that. Didn't wasn't to burden Sammy like that. Didn't want Sammy to know.

'Heard what?'

'You. Moaning. Saying 'please', saying 'no'. You were dreaming about Hell, Dean.'

'Shut up Sam.'

Sam only tightened his grip on his brother. 'No, Dean. I'm not going to shut up. You've been dreaming about hell for months now. And I have kept quiet, thinking it was going to get better. But its not. Its only been getting worse. You need to get this off your chest or its going to destroy you.'

Dean was in a dilemma. While he immensely enjoyed having Sammy at his back providing much appreciated body heat, the 'lets get Dean to spill his guts', attitude was a little off putting. He knew if he kept silent that Sammy might let it go. But surprisingly he didn't want to keep it in this time. It wasn't one of the worst flashbacks he ever had, and he might even get something in return if he played his cards right.

'I was cold.' Dean began. 'Like, extremely cold. One thing about Hell it's not all lava and fire and sulfur down there Sam. It's cold too. Like really really cold. You get hypothermia and frostbite and you never get numb. You just get frozen; the temperatures get so low that even your blood freezes solid. But you can't find anything to warm you up. I don't know. I think it was just that that I was dreaming about.'

Sam couldn't help the tears that pooled in his eyes. Dean finally was starting to open up, but still. The way he told him his dream, about Hell, so dead. It was sad. He sounded so accepting of the horrors that had been afflicted upon him. He hadn't deserved that, hadn't deserved Hell.

'I'm sorry.'

'S'not your fault.'

Sam gulped. Yeah, it was. If only he hadn't been a naïve, compassionate fool, and killed Jake, then Dean wouldn't have had to go through any of this. Wouldn't have sold his soul.

Dean felt the tremors controlling his body start to cease, his core body temperature staring to rise once again. His Sammy was doing a good job as a blanket.

'I am sorry, though.'

Dean sighed. Didn't Sam get it? This was nothing. Nothing to what he would have been if Sam had remained dead.

'You shouldn't be.'

Dean was staring to warm up, but not fast enough. He was still really cold. But he had an idea of how to get his body temperature up.


'Yeah Dean?'

'Kiss me.'

'Sam needed no further invitation than that. He quickly found his brother's lips and latched onto them with a ferocity that surprised the both of them. Sure they had done this before but the sensation of kissing Dean would never fade or get old. Sam was sure of that. Their teeth clacked together as both tried to take even more of the other in. Sam's tongue swiped across Dean's lower, pouty lip, asking for entrance. Dean happily obliged, open his mouth, letting Sam take control of the kiss. Because even though he was the older one, and, he was sure of it, the more masculine of the two, he could never deny his Sammy anything.

Dean's hand snaked around Sam's neck pulling him down closer, curling his fingers into the soft tresses of his hair. Sam was on top him and resting all of his weight on his forearms so he wouldn't crush his big brother. But Dean didn't care. He needed more contact, darn it! More heat. He used his other hand to knock Sam off in the middle of their kiss and turn him on his back. He quickly straddled Sam's waist and grinned down at him wickedly.


'You're going to slow.' He shrugged his shoulders as if that made sense, and of course in Dean logic, it does. He hungrily pounced onto Sam, making contact between their bodies, not leaving out an inch. Sam was sweating at this point and didn't mind it when Dean's hands gripped the hem of his shirt, exposing his abs little by little. His stomach tensed a little underneath Dean's splayed hand. Dean seemed to chuckle at this a bit.

'Forgot you were ticklish.'

He quickly discarded Sam's shirt and threw across the room into some little forgotten corner.

'That's better.' Dean quickly took in the sight of his little brother's body. He was panting from the lack of oxygen that all their kissing had caused and was covered in fine sheen of sweat. His lips were swollen and his cheeks were flushed. Sam was no longer the skinny boy he had picked up from Stanford a few years ago. His shoulders had broadened and he had filled in considerably. All the hunts they had done had given him the perfect body. He was just so freaking perfect.

He hesitantly traced his fingers down Sam's broad shoulders across his chest and over those sculpted abs that quivered underneath his touch.

'What's the matter big brother? Got cold feet?'

Sam was smirking at him for going slow for a change but Dean didn't care. He wanted to take his time. Wanted to engrave every image of Sam onto his brain. Every sight, every smell, every taste, and every touch. His fingers stopped at the waistband of Sam's boxers.

Well that's enough lingering he decided. Off with those pants! He gripped the elastic waistband in his fingers and ripped them off in one motion.

'How's that for cold feet, little brother?'

Sam's hazel eyes darkened with lust. He sat up forcefully and gripped Dean's head and brought His mouth down over his own. He forcefully kissed Dean, trying to drag up every pent up emotion and feeling he had for Dean since he knew he loved him. It was a good kiss.

Dean was startled a bit at first but then slowly smiled into the kiss. He felt good knowing he was the only that could make Sam lose control like this. As he was sitting on Sam's lap he felt a familiar bulge underneath him. The only one that could get that type of reaction out of him.

'Why, Sammy, are you carrying a gun on you or are you just happy to see me?'

Sam only growled in response and flipped them over reversing their positions. Dean was on his back again and could clearly see Sam's cock standing at full attention. He looked at Sam's straining erection and then back at his face.

'I take it you are happy to see me.'

Sam grinned wickedly and pressed his palm flat against Dean's clothed bulge.

'I could say the same for you.'

Dean gasped at the touch and involuntarily arched his back, lifting his hips off of the mattress trying to get more contact. But Sam had taken away his hand and was languidly running it up his side, his long deft fingers barely touching his ribcage. He was making him go insane. Touching him but not touching him enough. It wasn't fair. He needed friction!

Sam caught the mischievous grin flit across Dean's face a split second before his brother s hips ground into his. His brother's clothed erection and his own rubbed against each other with the most incredibly pleasurable friction. Both closed their eyes in pure pleasure.


'Amazing?' Sam finished for him.


'Well, then. Why did we stop?'

'Good question.'

Sam immediately lowered his hips and ground their bulges together. Never stopping the delicious contact. Dean gasped at the sensation.

'Like that big brother?'


' Try this then.'

Sam reached his hand down Dean's shorts and grabbed the long swollen shaft in his hand. It was hard and Sam could, already dripping with pre-come. Sam flicked his thumb lightly over the slit of Dean's head. Dean's back arched almost painfully as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through him Suddenly Sam's hand stopped. He frantically tried to continue the sensations by thrusting his hips into Sams loose fist.

'Why did you stop?'

'You'll see.'

Dean felt his boxers being pulled off and hastily lifted his hips in an effort to help. They were soon off and finally both boy's naked bodies were pressed completely upon one another's . Nothing was between except their breath. They both took a minute enjoying the completeness they both had in this simple act of having no boundaries between. But they souldn't vey much longer without having to do something about it.

Sam lowered himself against Dean until both of their cocks were touching. He frimly grasped both of them together in his hand and slowly started to stroke them both. The pace he set was slow and languid at first but started to soon pick up speed. He felt Dean's hips start to thrust and he took it as a sign to pick up the pace. He brushed the rough pad of his the thumb across the overly sensitive heads. He felt Dean's breath against the side of his face and the whispers of his name being said a like achant.

Sammy. Sammy. Sammy.

Dean could tell Sammy was getting close, he wasn't that far from it either. But he didn't want Sam to do all the work. SO he put his hand over Sam's hand and helped him along. They stroked themselves in a rhythm. But that pace was soon lost as they started to move faster and faster, their brath coming in shorter pants. They were close. So close. He locked eyes with his Sammy secondsbefore he felt the blinding white hot pleasure coursing through his veins. And as he came, he said Sam's name, just as he heard Sammy calling his.

Afterwards as they both lay there in their motel bed, the moonlight peeking in through the cheap curtains, they wrapped a blankets around themselves.

'Hey, Sammy?'

'Yeah Dean?'

'I'm not cold anymore.'


Note-awwwwwwwwww. No but seriously please review. I looovveee hearing what people think. So go right on ahead! :]