Italics indicate a flashback! Enjoy!

The ride back to the motel was beyond silent. Sam and Dean had just suffered through their most trying hunt yet.

The boys had been hunting a particularly nasty demon outside Virginia City, Nevada; the damn thing had been torturing humans for days before tearing their heads clean off and mailing the rotting fleshes to the victims' families. Sam had gone ahead of Dean to the rundown house the demon was holed up in while Dean grabbed loaded up with extra ammo. Sam stalked through the halls, ruby's knife at the ready when suddenly he felt a sharp pain shoot from his lower back and spread throughout his entire body. The last think he remembered seeing was Ruby's knife clatter to the ground before it all went black Sam awoke to a horrific burning sensation on his left side when he looked down to see the demon literally carving away at the flesh on his side. He tried to scream but it came out as a gurgle as he began to choke on his own blood.

Sam shook his head, trying to clear away the pain that reliving what happened brought; it was too soon, the pain still raw and very real. The only sounds heard the entire ride was the purr of the Impala's engine as Dean put the pedal on the floor and barreled into the night, trying to fight away the thoughts of what transpired.

Sam was in trouble, Dean could feel it, an ache deep in his very bones. He wasted zero time in kicking down the damn door when he arrived at the house."Sammy," Dean yelled, stealth be damned, he needed to find his little brother. He heard what sounded like someone choking upstairs and he bolted straight for the source of the sound, Colt drawn. The scene that Dean walked in on will forever be burned into his memory. The demon had Sam pinned against the far wall, blood dripping from every possible place, falling into an ever increasing puddle beneath Sam's feet. The demon had one hand gripped tight in Sam's hair, ready to carry out the final deed. At the sight Dean lost all control. He ran in, surprising the demon and without a hint of hesitation, unloaded six rounds straight into the demon's head.

Somehow Dean's foot came down even harder on the gas pedal, determined to get away from the events of the night as fast as humanely possible. Finally the Impala slowed to a legal speed as the lights of the Gold Hill Hotel came into view. Dean pulled in and shut the engine off. Sam wasted no time in grabbing his duffel and getting out of the car, albeit gingerly, he desired nothing more than to lie down. Dean hesitated for a second, biting back tears, determined not to break down before following his brother inside. Sam dropped his bag with a thud, shucked off his boots and jacket and threw himself onto his back on the bed, regret washing over him immediately as the pain in his lower back kicked up. He swore up and down he could feel his side tearing open again. Dean tried to ignore the whimper of pain from his baby brother and the consequential stab to his heart it produced.

Dean set his bag on the rickety motel table; he hung his jacket on the back of the chair before sitting down. He pulled out his cleaning brush and gun oil to begin work on his guns, the only thing he could think of that required no emotion or effort on his part. He laid out his Beretta, the Colt, Bobby's Taurus and his dad's Desert Eagle; all four guns he worshiped. He picked up his sound suppressed Beretta first. He put CLP on a brush and inserted it from the barrel into the chamber, scrubbing back and forth, making sure to coat it generously with oil. Sam watched his brother beneath hooded eyes as he wiped down the outside of the barrel, the slide are, breech face, adding just a little oil to the firing pin block and safety. Sam watched as Dean reassembled the gun with military precision. He also watched as Dean's hands shook uncontrollably as he loaded the gun and locked on the safety. In an instant Sam was across the room, seated on his brother's lap, hands cupping Dean's face as tears streamed down them.

"I can't lose you Sammy," Dean choked out, his irrational co-dependence and love for his brother getting the better of his emotions.

"If I go, you go with me." Sam lifted the gun from Dean's still shaking hand. He traced the barrel of the silencer along the hard line of Dean's jaw, down his throat and across his collarbone. He continued his descent and circled Dean's clothed nipple with the tip if the gun causing a jolt of arousal to hit Dean right where it counts. Sam stopped long enough for the two of them to pull their shirts off. Sam moved back up Dean's body with the gun, leaving a trail of gun oil and grease marring his big brother's skin. He brought the gun back up to Dean's lips, the lips that were made to be wrapped around a cock. The boys were caught up in each other's eyes as Sam pushed the gun inside Dean's hot mouth. Dean hummed around the silencer, thrusting his hips up to Sam's, digging his nails deeper into Sam's back. Dean sucked the gun deeper down his throat, never losing eye contact with Sam.

'Trust me.' Sam pleaded to Dean with his eyes.

'Always.' Dean silently answered.

Sam's fingers moved to the safety and clicked it off. The tiny sound echoed through the room and both boy's arousals grew, they were rutting against each other like mad. The idea that just one move and Sam could end Dean's life heightened the stimulation.

"You go with me," Sam said before cocking the gun inside Dean's mouth.