So this is just a little fluff/angst-ish fic. I hope you guys like it. I of course me no offense to anyone who does self-harm. The way Sam thinks in the fic is of course not trying to set a stereotype for anyone. I know when I went through it myself, my mindset was no where near Sam's. Disclaimer, I don't own any of the characters from supernatural, despite the fact that if they were up for sale I'd sell my bank account if it meant I could have them I really hope you like it you guys! I'd love to here how you think it was, good reviews or bad. I'm always looking for feedback. All my love 3

-Jen


Dean groaned as he made his way back to the cheap motel room. His body screaming with aches and pains from being slammed violently against a table by the third vengeful spirit that month. John was still out with Bobby on a hunt, some rogue werewolf in Virginia. Now that he was nineteen, he didn't have school to keep him busy, it was just hunt after hunt. He hadn't seen Sam in days. Now that Dad deemed Sammy old enough to stay alone, he had Dean doing double time.

"Sammy?" Dean opened the door and immediately slung his bag on the ground. Sam didn't respond, that was weird, like, really weird. Usually, the little nerd was at the kitchen table doing his homework. Dean didn't believe in homework. "Sam." He tried again, looking around. Still no answer.

"Dude, where are you?" he made his way around the rooms checking each one before finally laying eyes on the bathroom. "Sammy? Are you jerking off dude? Come out here." He tried the door, locked. "Sam!" When there still wasn't an answer it took Dean no time at all to decide to pick the lock. He opened the door, heart nearly beating out of his chest at the sight in front of him. Sam sat, leaning against the tub, legs tucked up to his chest, a thin, metallic razor in one hand and neat cuts on opposite arm, almost perfectly parallel to each other. Sam looked up, his glazed expression quickly changed to one of panic as he scrambled to cover his arm. Dean was faster, grabbing both of Sam's wrists restraining him from running.

"Sammy, what the hell?" He didn't know how to take this all in, how to process what he was seeing, Sam… his baby brother, doing that to himself. He felt his stomach twist into knots.

"Dean! I-I…it's not what you think! I swear I-"

Dean pulled him tight into his arms, cradling Sam's head against his chest. Maybe it was a sappy romantic comedy thing to do, but he couldn't help but wonder how long Sam had been doing this… how alone he must have felt and how Dean or dad hadn't noticed sooner. Sam stood frozen, face being pressed against his brother's chest. After a few moments, he was hugging back, tears running down his cheeks. He hadn't been hugged by Dean in a long time. Then he was crying, he was crying harder than he's ever cried before. Ever. Because Winchester men don't cry. Or that's what John had always said when they were young. They had to be strong, and avenge Mary. He spent what seemed like a lifetime sobbing into Dean's shirt before finally pulling away, already missing the warmth his brother's embrace offered. Dean just stroked Sam's cheek with his thumb.

"Let's get you cleaned up, okay?" He sat Sam down on the edge of the tub reaching into the medicine cabinet to grab some bandages.

"Can I see your arm, please?" He asked cautiously, holding his hand out. He wasn't judging; he was simply trying to figure out how to better assess the situation, like any hunter would.

Sam held out his arm nervously, letting Dean gently place his hand on Sam's forearm, running a thumb across the swollen skin. Gently, he began to dab the wounds with antiseptic, pausing whenever Sam hissed in discomfort. Once he was done he place a few plain bandages over the wounds, finishing by pressing a soft kiss to Sam's arm.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Dean spoke cautiously, not wanting to force Sam into anything he wasn't ready to confront. Sam bit his lip, feeling tears sting at his eyes and roll down his cheeks. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He never wanted Dean to know, and now looking into those piercing green eyes filled with concern and maybe even a little disappointment, he knew he'd made a mistake. He should have been more careful; made sure the door was locked better, or checked the time more often. Yet, a piece of him felt like deep down he'd wanted someone to know he was hurting as bad as he was… he just didn't want it to be Dean. Sam took a deep breath.

"It's a punishment." His voice was raw and shaking as tears continued to spill down his cheeks.

"A punishment? For what? Sammy what could you possibly do to deserve this?" Dean sounded so sad, so hurt, that Sam could feel his own heart breaking in two. "You could have talked to me Sammy, I'm always here." He pulled Sam into a tight hug, letting the younger boy sob into Dean's shoulder again. Sam felt all his will power melt away as he stayed in Dean's arms. He let out shaky, desperate sobs, gasping for air while clutching at Dean's shirt. If he ever told Dean how he felt, Dean would reject him, alienate him, and maybe even hate him. Sam couldn't bear the thought of that.

He spent another few minutes crying in Dean's arms before finally pulling away. Dean gazed up at him, eyes still slightly red. Sam had been too busy crying himself to even consider the possibility that Dean had been crying too.

"Sammy, please…talk to me man."

"It was a punishment," he repeated.

"Sam, nothing you could ever do would ever make you deserve to hurt yourself like this."

"Even if I was in love with my brother?" He mumbled, not bothering to look up. He knew Dean would leave after he'd said that.

"What?" Dean forced Sam's face to look at him, their eyes meeting. "Sammy, you don't mean you-"

"Yes Dean I do, I know it's sick, and I get that I'm just the fucked up little brother. So just go…please. Because if you stay and say we can 'fix me' or 'heal me' or whatever else you think will make everything okay, I won't be able to handle it. I couldn't take it hearing that you think I'm disgusting, even though I already know you do…"

Dean stared at his brother in shock. What was he supposed to say to that? What could anyone say to that? He decided actions would speak louder than words, and without hesitation he pulled Sam close bringing their lips together in a long lustful kiss. Sam didn't kiss back at first, his lips stayed frozen in shock or disbelief he wasn't really sure which. But soon he was kissing back, desperate, begging Dean's lips and tongue to give him more.

When Dean finally pulled away, Sam stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless.

"Dean what just-"

"You're not sick, you're not disgusting, and you can't be fixed, because you're not broken. You're in love and love is blind. It doesn't matter if I'm your brother, or your teacher or a fucking stranger on the street. If you love me, no one has any god damn right to judge you. And Sammy," Dean pressed another kiss to Sam's lips, this time gentle and so loving that Sam practically wanted to cry again, "I love you too. I have for a really, really, long time."

He kissed the bandaged arm again, "Next time you're feeling like this, please come to me Sam. You're not alone, and you're never gonna be alone as long as I'm around."

Sam felt his heart pound, threatening to beat right out of his chest at Dean's word. No one was ever gonna love him, not the way Dean did. And it didn't matter how many sluts Dean banged in the back of the impala, because Dean was his. For the rest of his life and even after that.

"Dean," he licked his lips smiling at his with tear-filled eyes, "I love you."

"I love you too Sammy, forever and always."