This is going to be a little series about the Winchester Hugs.

Hope you all like it.

Yours thoughts are always appreciated. :)


Thanks to all those who have reviewed my previous stories and to those like "huntergirl" that I can't thank personally.


Hug Me Tender.


Chapter One.

All Hell Breaks Loose.


The tires screeched and the engine screamed as the young man threw her into a u-turn and drove like the damned he now was,

back to his brother.


He was well aware that what he had done was stupid and wrong.

It was something that he himself had suffered through when his father had done the very same thing for him, and he was sure

that if Sam ever came to find out what lengths he had gone to in order to save him; no, to resurrect him, his reaction would be the

exact same as his own had been; of anger and grief that Dean would be tortured in Hell for all eternity because of him.


Oh, he understood only too well but this was Sam! He had to do it.

His baby brother had always been his responsibility and he had felt him die in his arms!

No! That was a memory he wanted to banish from his mind, never to be allowed back in.


He knew that a small part of the reasons that had pushed him do this was egotism, but he just couldn't envisage his life without

his little brother by his side.

He couldn't bear the thought of Sammy dead, and he had sold the only thing of any value that he possessed, his soul, to save



Had it worked?

The Impala sped even faster, as if she too shared the urgency in her owner's heart, the need to see if the youngest member of

their little family was hale and healthy again.

Dean shot out of the car like an arrow from a bow and pushed his way into the rickety house where he had left his brother grey

and dead on a filthy mattress.

"Sammy," his heart cried out, "please, please, be alive."


If it were not so, and Sam was still lying unmoving on that bed; then, when Bobby eventually returned to see what had become of

them, there would be two bodies for him to burn.

He would stretch out beside his little brother and his gun would do its gruesome duty.

Bobby would be the only one left to mourn the brief existence of Sam and Dean Winchester, he thought sadly.


He gave himself a second to calm down before he opened the door to the bare bedroom; Sammy must never know; he mustn't

see him too agitated. He took one last deep breath and entered, but his traitorous heart, unheeding his orders, was instead

beating like a symphony of drums.

His brother was there in front of him, living and breathing; his puppy-eyed face scrunched up in pain, but on his feet and blessedly



Dean threw himself on to him, needing to hear the beating of Sammy's heart in synch with his own.

He felt the tears start to well up as he embraced him, but he pushed them back. There was no more need for tears; they were for

the dead; no longer necessary now that he had his baby brother warm and alive in his arms again.


His mind registered Sam's yelp of pain and he released him, not wanting to cause him more harm by pressing on his back, but in

that instant Dean Winchester was the happiest man on Earth.


He had sold his worthless black soul for a real live Sam. It was a steal!