He stood there, staring at the four walls, darkness and shadows surrounding him, wind whistling loudly in his ears.

He knew that this was the only thing, he could do to end the crying in his heart; the darkness that constantly held him in it's death grip. Ever since... since...

Sam stared at the metallic razor blade in his hand, blood staining it crimson from the many times it was used before. It wasn't the first time the 21-year-old had done this, but it would be the last.

25-year-old Dean Winchester sat at his desk, staring at the blank computer screen. He was working the nightshift once again at the St. Michael's Hospice, filling in for Toby who claimed to be sick - for the fourth time this week. Dean figured Toby wasn't gonna last long here.

"Hey, suga, how you doin'?"

Dean turned and beamed a smile at the heavy-set black woman behind him. Clairece Johnson was what one would call voluptuous. She had a most jovial demeanor about herself, which Dean had to admire, though not many night workers did.

"Waiting for something to d-"

"Dean, we got a call about a possible suicide victim on 5th and Grandor, we need you and Clairece to head there immediately."

Dean and Clairece looked at one another and then booked it as fast as they could. Determination colored both Dean's dark green eyes and Clairece's silky black ones.

Dean and Clairece rushed from the elevator with a stretcher, heading straight for the open door where a few tenants stood.

"Excuse me, but we need to get through,"

Dean said, his baritone voice echoing loudly in the quiet hallway.

The tenants parted, letting them through, and the sight that met Dean's eyes would forever be etched in his memory.

On the floor, in the middle of the efficiency apartment, was a young man who appeared about twenty or so and a blonde girl sitting next to him, her hands wrapped around his wrists, tears streaking her face.

Blood pooled underneath the boy's wrists and there were dark droplets on the floor behind him. Dean could see that his skin was pale, too pale, and looked stark set against the boy's mop of dark brown hair. His blood stained the young man's white t-shirt.

"Please! You have to help him! You have to help Sam!"

"Okay, suga, just calm down. Dean and I are gonna get Sam to the hospital, you just have to let us do our job and get him bandaged and on this stretcher. Okay, suga?"

Clairece's soft soprano voice seemed to calm the girl and Dean sent up a prayer that they weren't to late to save Sam.

Clairece pulled into the overhang of the E.R. and Dean quickly exited the ambulance, rushed to the back and opened the doors. Dean shared a look with Clairece before then they got the stretcher out of the back and were flying through the sliding doors, Clairece calling out to Dr. Grayson and his night staff.

"Male, early to mid-twenties, multiple wounds to wrists, massive blood loss."

"Alright, prep E.R. Three and let's get him on a ventilator and an I.V. drip. Get him prepped for surgery and a transfusion."

Dean watched as they wheeled Sam away, feeling the young man's slender fingers slip from his own as he was pushed down the hallway.

He stared at the blood that welled and spilt from the deep cuts on his wrists. It almost looked pretty, in a morbid kind of way. But he was happy, he could feel the weight lifting, leaving him. His vision became cloudy and unclear... And then an image flashed in his mind.

A man's face, rugged and smooth, covered in a days worth of stubble, short brown-blonde hair, and dark green eyes... such a breathtakingly beautiful face. And in those eyes... a look of pure love and happiness...

Then the vision was gone. Sam felt his heart squeeze and he realized hazily that maybe he'd made the wrong choice. He walked unsteadily, heading towards his kitchenette. Halfway there, he fell to the hardwood floor of his efficiency with a thud.

Right then his vision really became cloudy and his mind seemed to flit in and out of consciousness. He could hear knocking, and then he saw his neighbor Jessica's face. He heard a man's baritone voice saying he was going to be alright. When he opened his eyes again, it was to bright lights and whiteness all around. And then, out of all this bright white came green, dark emerald green. The look in them was concerned and worried.

Sam reached his hand out and slid his fingers into the man's. He felt them clench his hand in return.

And then the hand was gone. He was being wheeled away and that was when the darkness came.

Such sweet darkness.

Dean paced the waiting room of the E.R. He couldn't stand still, worry and concern wracking his mind.

He absently ran a hand through his short hair and huffed out a sigh. He wanted to be with that young man. Felt like he should be there. Maybe it was the look that the man, Sam, had given him? Maybe it was the touch of his hand? Maybe both?

After two hours had passed, Dr. Grayson was there, standing in front of him.

"Charles. How is he?"

"He's... well to be honest if we don't get a transfusion going he won't make it. He's lost too much blood already. Have you been able to get ahold of his family or close relatives?"

Dean shook his head.

"No. His parents are dead and his next of kin lives too many states away."

"Damn it. That boy needs a transfusion."

"What if I do it?"

Charles stared at him, astonished. Dean himself was even a little surprised. But he felt as if he had to do it. Needed to do it.

Charles continued watching him a minute more before saying,

"Alright, come on then."

Sam opened his eyes to see dimmed lighting filtering down from above him. He felt exhausted, like he'd just ran a mile and hadn't taken a break in forever.

He slowly took a breath in and then let it out. His hazel eyes scanned his surroundings, coming to fall on a man sitting near his bed.

He had his forehead resting in his hands, his brown-blonde hair poking through his fingers. The man sighed and then raised his head, his dark green eyes meeting Sam's hazel ones.


the man said, reaching out a hand.

"I know you."

It was out of Sam's mouth before his mind even registered the thought.

The guy smiled.

"Yes, I guess you do. My name is Dean. I was one of the E.M.T.s who rescued you. I believe your name is Sam, right?"

"Yeah, I'm Sam..."

Sam felt very tired and he couldn't stop his eyes from starting to flutter shut.

"I can go if you want..."

Sam reached his hand out, clasping around Dean's wrist.

"Stay. Please?"

Dean's eyes softened as he said,

"Yeah. I'll stay. I'll stay, Sam."


Sam said as he began to drift off in earnest.

"I'll stay, Sammy. Promise."

Dean stared down at the beautiful young man, a need to protect him tugging at him fiercely.

Sam stared down at the bandages that covered his wrists. He couldn't really remember much of what had happened that night when he arrived at St. Michael's Hospital, just after he decided to end his life. The rest was fuzzy and unclear. He rather liked it that way. He didn't really want to remember. It was bad enough he remembered why he had cut his wrists... Sam shook his head, ridding himself of his thoughts.

That was when he felt eyes on him and he turned his head. His eyes met dark green ones and Sam felt a smile slide across his face, his heart began to beat a little faster and he exclaimed,

"Dean. Come on in. I've been waiting for you to get here all day!"

His eyes followed as Dean sauntered into the room, wearing only a black long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves pushed up, a pair of ripped blue jeans, and biker boots. His hair was messily spiked and he had shaved. He looked rather boyish.

Dean smiled back and returned,

"Clairece had me go to the store with her to help her decide what to make for dinner since she has a date tonight."

Sam continued smiling and said,

"She could have come seen me. I wouldn't have minded."

It was about four days after the accident and Sam had gotten to know both Dean and Clairece pretty well. If he admitted it to himself, he was rather attracted to Dean and his rugged handsomeness. Clairece was just tons of fun to be around.

"She actually wanted me to apologize for her: she would have come by, but she's really nervous about her date. She wanted me to give you this,"

Dean commented, handing Sam a small box with a simple blue ribbon tied around it.

Sam stared down at the gift for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. He wasn't used to people just giving him gifts. He undid the bow with shaking hands and opened the box. Inside was pale blue tissue paper and nestled amongst it was a small bracelet with a tiny silver pentagram
attached to it. Sam gingerly picked it up and felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

"It's beautiful, but why did she get me this?"

Sam turned his eyes to Dean.

Dean came over and sat on the edge of the hospital bed.

"She said when she saw it, it struck her as something that would be really important to you. She didn't really understand why, after all she and I don't really know you that well."

"Will you tell her thank you? And that it means a lot to me. It reminds me of my mother's bracelet."

Sam felt the tears slip down his face as he remembered his mother, her long blonde hair spilling down over her shoulders and her bright brown eyes shining with love.


Sam looked up. Worry wrinkled Dean's face and concern colored his dark green eyes.

Sam wiped at his eyes and then answered,

"I'm okay. Really. Would you put this on me?"

He held out the bracelet towards Dean who took it from him, their fingertips brushing and Sam held his breath at the electrifying touch. Dean's fingers slipped the bracelet around his left wrist, clasping it softly on top of the bandages there. The silver might have seemed odd on top of the bandages, but Sam loved it.

"Thank you Dean."

Sam smiled softly at the older man.

"Your welcome, Sammy,"

Dean grinned back,

"I also got you something."

"You did?"

It was then Sam saw the box that sat on the floor, just beside the bed. Dean reached over and picked it up off of the floor. He handed it to Sam and Sam held it in his hands, just staring at it, probably longer than when he'd stared at Clairece's gift. Two gifts? Now this was unexpected. Sam was beside himself with awe, not to mention feeling rather grateful towards his newfound friends for getting him these gifts.

He gingerly peeled away the green wrapping paper and then opened the box to see what was inside. It was a journal, leather bound and old looking. Sam looked at Dean, a question in his eyes.

"Open it."

Sam turned to the first page and there, in a slightly messy scrawl, Dean had written an entry.


I got this for you because I figured you would like somewhere to write down your thoughts and feelings. I hope this will help you and maybe one day you won't have to write in it anymore. But for now, please, take advantage of it.

Your friend,

Sam looked back up at Dean.

"Thank you, Dean. I will take advantage of this journal. I'm sure it will help me a great deal. I could be like Anne Frank!"

Sam smiled and Dean chuckled.

"Well, I'm glad you like it. Are you ready to go home today?"

Sam's eyes dimmed and he looked down.

"Not really. But I don't really have anywhere else to go."

"Well, if you ever need to, you can call me and I'll come over. I'll give you my number. Would you like that?"

"I would, thanks Dean."

An hour later Dean was gone and Sam was standing outside the hospital, a cab waiting to take him back to his apartment. As Sam got in, he looked down at the journal, knowing that if he needed to, he could call Dean. When the cab pulled away from the curb, Sam opened the journal and gazed at the hastily scrawled number and smiled to himself. Maybe, just maybe, something was beginning to go right in his life.

Dean leaned against the counter staring off into space, his thoughts turning to Sam. It was a few days after Sam had been released from St. Michael's and Dean was getting worried. Sam hadn't called him or texted him yet. Dean swirled his can of beer and then took a gulp. He briskly pushed away from the counter, determined to find Sam and find out what was going on with him.

He grabbed his keys from the hook by the door and then left his house, heading for his two door, sapphire blue Sunfire. Once he turned the key and the ignition started he drove as quickly as possible to Sam's apartment building.

He got out and headed up the stairs to knock loudly on Sam's door. When there was no answer right away, Dean started banging loudly.

When that didn't work he started yelling.

"Sam! Sammy! Let me in! I've been worried sick about you, damn it! You better let me in or I'm gonna break down this door!"

He finally heard the lock on the other side slide over with a soft 'snick' and the door opened to reveal a sleepy-faced Sam.

"Dean, what are you doing here? It's 3 A.M. in the morning!?"

Dean shouldered his way inside Sam's apartment and then stopped, wavering slightly on his feet. His soggy mind seemed to alert itself to his behavior. He blinked and then squinted at Sam who was staring at him with a combination of annoyance and a smirk on his face.

"Are you drunk?"


Dean squinted his eyes again.


Dean pressed his thumb and forefinger to the space between his eyes and moaned.

"Why exactly are you drunk and at my apartment at 3 A.M.?"

"I haven't seen you in the last few days, started thinking and when I worry I tend to drink to try to get over it."

Dean grumbled, looking away. Sober, he'd never say anything close to that, but he did feel a little guilty for busting in on some poor sleeping guy when he couldn't even think straight. Sam's laugh was too loud and Dean looked at him, suddenly feeling as if his head was about to explode. He realized he really must have drunk a whole fucking lot if his head was already
starting to hurt.

"You got worried about me? Why didn't you call me? I gave you my number. That at least wouldn't have had you driving over here, clearly intoxicated."

"Yeah... ah... I lost it. And then you never called when you said you would..."


Sam's voice was filled with exasperation, but he was Sam coming closer and then Dean felt Sam's hand resting on his shoulder. And it was so fucking warm, Sam was warm... Dean suddenly wanted to kiss the younger man. His lips looked so soft and full... Dean wanted not just to kiss him, but wanted to suck that big bottom lip of Sam's into his own mouth, lick it over until it was even more swollen...

"Sammy, can I kiss you?"

Dean had slurred that last bit. Sam backed away at that and Dean couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong to put that look in Sam's eyes. Maybe Sam didn't hear him?

"Dean, I think you should go home."

What the hell? Clearly Sam did not hear him. Dean had never been turned down for just wanting a little kiss...and when he'd been so worried too...he had to make sure Sammy was okay.

"No, I think I should kiss you."

Dean walked towards Sam, grasping the younger man fiercely. Suddenly, Dean's mouth was silencing whatever protest Sam was trying to put up and Dean was losing himself in the taste of Sam, the feel of his lips, the soft trembling of his body against him.


Dean moaned when he separated for air. He knew he was grinding obscenely against the younger man, something he would never even think of doing, but he just didn't care right now. He wanted Sam, wanted to touch him, wanted to be touched, wanted to...

"Dean, please, stop..."

Dean froze abruptly. It was Sam's voice, so full of hurt and fear and Dean's head was reeling. He moved his body off of Sam's and took a few steps back, just looking at the younger man. He could almost feel tears stinging his eyes and he blinked rapidly. What the fuck was wrong with him?

"Sam... I'm sorry..."

Dean turned away, heading for the door.

"Dean... please, don't go... I want you to stay. I just..."

Dean turned back, his dark green eyes searching Sam's face. He no longer looked hurt or scared, but cautious and wary.

"Maybe we can just talk?"

Dean suggested and was pleased when he saw Sam's eyes light up a little at that. Dean figured it would give him enough time to get a little more sober. Maybe make it up to Sammy some way.

"Yeah, we can talk."

Sam smiled at him and Dean felt a little better. But there was one thing Dean felt stirring deep inside. He was attracted to Sam and he hoped that they could one day be something more than just friends.

Sam stared, his eyes unfocused and unseeing, towards a spot above Dean's head. He was feeling unsure and a little nervous. Did he really want Dean here? It had only been a few hours after he had arrived. Dean wasn't as drunk anymore, but Sam just... He shook his head and stared at Dean, who was sitting on his couch watching the T.V. Sam moved over next to Dean.

"Feeling any better?"

Dean's eyes stared into his own, and Sam nearly lost himself in their emerald depths.

"Yeah. I'm sorry for about earlier. I'm sorry you had to see that side of me."

Dean frowned and looked away. Sam thought to himself, If I wasn't supposed to see him like that, then he wouldn't have come over in the first place. I wonder if he's apologizing because he really didn't mean to come or if he's just sorry about how he scared me. No way he'd be here if he didn't want to be. And even so, it really wasn't that serious. He just acted poorly.

"Dean, no. It's okay. I reacted badly to your advances. I do actually like you a lot. I was just scared and frankly astonished that you liked me in the same way."

Dean looked at him sheepishly.

"Yeah, I do like you Sam. And I want to be with you."

Dean bit his lip as he finished speaking, making Sam go weak at the knees.


Sam reached out hesitantly, his fingers gently brushing across Dean's stubbled cheek. Dean's eyes turned to face him and Sam saw a look of such longing and loneliness that Sam had the automatic instinct to pull Dean close and hold him for a long time.

He was not going to allow that. He had to protect himself from getting hurt. He wasn't even over the pain from how they'd met.

Sam got up, heading to his fridge, intending to get a glass of Coke and clear his head a little. He heard Dean following him. Sam turned around abruptly and Dean bumped right into him.

Their chests touched, and Sam faltered. Dean's arms were suddenly at his waist, wrapping around him tightly. Their mouths were only inches apart and their eyes locked, gazes held deep in one another's.

"I won't hurt you, Sammy."

It was whispered and Sam could feel the sincerity in those words.

"I don't want to feel this anguish anymore Dean. I want it to go away."

"Let me help you, Sammy. Please?"

Dean's mouth was on his, their lips molding together like they were made for one another. Puzzle pieces finally completing and revealing a bigger picture. Dean's arms twined, hauling Sam even closer, and Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, long fingers tangling in Dean's short hair.

For once in Sam's life, he felt safe.

Dean stared down at the sleeping boy next to him. His soft dark hair curled like a halo and his eyelashes contrasted starkly against the paleness of his skin. He was curled against him and Dean could only smile. He wasn't afraid of how things were turning out; he just never thought that it would happen for him. Not after Cassie. He never thought he would fall in love with anyone again, let alone a man.

He quietly chuckled to himself and pulled Sammy closer to his side, laying a soft kiss to his temple and then closing his eyes, hoping to dream with Sam.

Sam awoke to find himself wrapped in a man's arms. He tensed for a second and then, with the events of the night before filtering from his memory, he relaxed. It was Dean. Though Sam wasn't sure when they had decided to share the same bed, he didn't care. He just snuggled in; this was something he had never done before, so he was going to soak it up for as long as he could. Because good things didn't happen to Sam very often and he wasn't going to pass up an opportunity at this glimmer of happiness.

Sam turned his face up and stared at Dean's face. He was so beautiful... Sam couldn't believe that Dean wanted him in return. Sam could feel all of his emotions building and knew if he didn't try to calm down, he was going to burst, with happiness or sadness, or maybe both. Sam took a deep breath and just laid there, enjoying the warmth seeping from Dean's sleeping body and then smiled wider when Dean's arms fastened around him in sleep and never let go.

Five days later, Dean was driving home from work when his cell phone went off. He answered after the second ring.



The voice on the other end was soft and somber.


"Do you think you could maybe come over when your shift is over? I... There's something I would like to talk about."

"Okay, Sammy. I'll be right there, my shift ended just a few minutes ago."

"Ok. Thank you Dean."

Once Sam had hung up, Dean flipped his phone shut and then gunned his engine, speeding his way to Sam's apartment building, suddenly worried like hell as to what the younger man wanted to talk about.

He nervously bit his lower lip, fidgeting with a pencil. The journal Dean had given him was laying open and so far the young man had filled almost a fourth of the book.

Sam stared down at it, his words reflecting back at him:

For some reason I feel as if I-

Sam could see that the space between the 'I' and the next word was a little longer, that was where he had stopped writing and paused to think before he continued, wanting to get this right. Needing this to be right.

-have to tell him about my past. I have to tell him, before we become more serious. Are we serious? I have to give him the chance to run while he can. I have to, because-

He had stopped again. He could clearly see the splotches where his tears had fallen silently onto the page.

-I love him. I love Dean. It just feels so right with him. I feel safe. I've never felt safe... not even when.-

That's where he had stopped. Completely. He couldn't write down what had happened. Why he was the way he was. He just couldn't. It was enough to have the memories, worming their way through his life, tainting everything he tried to do or think. If he put the pencil to paper, if he saw the printed words, the agony would no longer be deniable. It wasn't anyway. Not really.

Somehow though, if he confirmed it, aloud or on paper, he didn't think it would ever leave him alone.

Sam felt tears welling up again. He quickly swiped at his eyes, trying to rid himself of the weakness of tears; trying, and failing, to rid himself of the shadowy despair that raged inside of him. The only time it was tempered, quieted even, was when he was with Dean. As he was wiping away the tear tracks, a knock sounded at his door.

Dean headed home first to change out of his work clothes. He dashed inside and then threw on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. He slipped into a pair of flip-flops and then ran outside to his car, turning the key, and then driving like mad to Sam's apartment.

He heard rustling from inside after he knocked and the door opened and there was Sam, red-eyed and vulnerable. His hair curled in odd directions, sticking out and twisting back in on itself, and his hazel eyes were more of a green than brown at the moment. He was dressed casually in just a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants.


"Sam. Is everything okay?"

Dean asked, pushing his way inside without waiting for the 'O.K.' from Sam. He gently grabbed Sam's arm and guided him to the couch where they sat facing each other.

Sam looked down, his face a mask of uncertainty. Dean's brow furrowed, questioning, but he remained silent. He was waiting for Sam to speak.

"There are some things that I need to tell you before this relationship goes any further."


Dean wasn't sure if he should say anything else, but Sam seemed to take that as his cue, biting his lower lip and then taking a deep breath.

"I shouldn't... be alive. I was supposed to die that night. The night you and Clairece rescued me I wanted it to end. I wanted this miserable life to end, I didn't want to live with the constant fear, pain, darkness, and guilt that plagued me since..."

Sam faltered. Dean swallowed, his throat clicking, and laid his hand on Sam's knee, whispering so as not to scare Sam from finishing the story,

"Sammy... why did you want to die?"

It grieved him to ask that question. It hurt Dean deeply and he could feel a fierce wanting, needing to protect his Sam, beginning to form.

"Because... it's what... it was all I ever thought I was going to achieve for... this life. I was hoping that whatever came after would be better than...this. Me. My childhood was broken... my father left my mother... and then five years after I was born, my mother died. My grandparents took me in, but they were abusive mostly, and by the time I was sixteen they kicked me out, blaming me for my mother's death. They told me that I was worthless and demon spawn. That I would never be able to truly love someone because if I did, I would ultimately kill them. And you know what, Dean? They were right. I deserved all of it. Every slap from their hands, every whip with the belt. Everything..."

Sam was full out crying now, bawling really, and Dean did the only thing he could think of. He enclosed his arms around Sam and held him close, pressing delicate kisses all over his face and wiping away his tears. He wanted to take all of this doubt, fear, torment, and
agony from Sam, but he didn't know how.

"I've never had any place or person to call my own. I've been too afraid, and I don't think I deserve love. Not if... what my grandparents said is true... I-I'm telling you all this because, Dean... I-"

Dean was looking into Sam's eyes as he was saying this last bit and it clicked into place. Why he felt so strongly for this young man. Why he wanted to protect him. Why he wanted to spend every waking moment with him.

Dean placed a finger to Sam's lips, hushing the words, seeing them in Sam's eyes was all the proof he needed. All it took was for him to murmur,

"I love you too, Sammy."

Tears were falling down Dean's face too and he crushed Sam to him, his lips claiming Sam's in the most passionate and loving kiss he'd ever shared with anyone.

Sam stared shyly up at Dean who was straddling him, smiling at him before leaning down to kiss his lips softly. Sam couldn't help it when he arched up against Dean, already straining to be free of his clothing. His tongue was slowly coaxed into a tango with Dean's and he mewled from the salty-sweet taste of Dean's lips and tongue.

Dean chuckled and then swiveled his hips, creating achingly wonderful friction between them. It only made sense that this was happening. After all they were just riding the emotions they were feeling and in all honesty this is what Sam wanted.


he mewled softly when Dean released his lips.

"Shh... Don't worry Sammy, I'm going to take care of you. I promise. I won't hurt you."

Sam closed his eyes and then let out a soft moan when Dean's hands came to rest on his bare chest, calloused fingertips bumping over his abs; his shirt was already long forgotten, laying in a heap with Dean's on the floor.

Sam felt his body come alive at Dean's tender touch, his body seemed to explode with feeling. It was new, it was exciting, and it was down right scary to be this close and personal with anyone. Sam couldn't help it when his hands grasped at Dean's shoulders desperately. That was when he noticed the smattering of freckles there and he couldn't help himself, he had to lick them. His tongue slid over Dean's taut skin, the sweat there exploding in his mouth in a combination of salty and bitter, but exquisite deliciousness.

He pulled Dean to him, his mouth crashing into Dean's and they were kissing once again. Dean's fingertips continued to roam over his chest, tweaking and rubbing his nipples causing intense shivers to erupt down his spine. Dean moved down and placed his mouth over one nipple, suckling intently, while the pad of his thumb stroked the other nipple. His hands entwined themselves in Dean's short hair.

"Dean, please... Please!"

Sam looked into Dean's eyes and saw need and hunger mixed with love and happiness.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Dean. I want you. I need you. I... I'm going to love you like I've never been broken. I want to go there with you. Please..."

Abruptly, Dean was everywhere. His mouth kissing and sucking every inch of Sam's body, every inch of skin... Dean's mouth was suddenly latched onto the inside of Sam's left thigh and he knew that Dean must have found that damn birthmark of his. Even with that thought going through his sex-hazed brain, Sam arched upwards, panting loudly and feeling very close to coming... all from Dean just running his tongue over that sensitive area and sucking hard upon that birthmark. When Dean's mouth reached finally for Sam, after having discarded his pants, Sam clutched the bed sheets with a mewl.

He felt Dean's hand go lower, a finger slick with something - lube maybe? - and then Dean was pressing that finger against Sam's opening while he sucked sweetly, hollowing his cheeks. When Dean's finger entered and slowly opened him Sam winced slightly at the pain, hadn't he dealt with enough pain? Pain that wasn't entirely his fault? Although, this pain... it was because he wanted this. He wanted Dean. Loved him.

Sam felt himself opening wider and realized Dean was now working on two calloused fingers... and then soon it was three. Dean's face was suddenly above him, a question in his dark green eyes.

"Dean, do it. Please. I want it. I need you. I love you."

All of this was said softly and quietly, with such intensity... Sam suddenly felt Dean entering him, sliding himself in and burying himself deeply.

When Dean sunk in all the way and hit a spot inside of Sam, he writhed underneath of Dean, his hands clutching at the bed sheets, Dean's arms, shoulders, his hips. Dean was laying over him, his hips working softly and gently, his lips creating the most beautiful song with Sam's mouth. Sweat slicked their bodies and Sam found the friction from their sweat-soaked bodies to be just as enjoyable as the gentle pounding Dean was giving him.

Moans and soft words were spoken and then the trembling started and Sam wasn't sure if it was him, or Dean, or them both, but his world was suddenly full of color and intensity; his world was colored dark sultry, beautiful green... When he came, hard and fast, Sam cried out Dean's name with such heartbreaking need that Dean felt himself come just as fiercely and he called out Sam's name in response.

Dean collapsed on top of Sam, his breathing ragged and his body trembling. He could feel tremors rocking through Sam's body and hear his soft breathing coming fast and he leant up and kissed Sam's lips, softly and tenderly.

"I love you, Sammy. So much,"

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, holding him tightly and lovingly.

"I love you, Dean,"

Sam replied, feeling all kinds of happiness and wonderment. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean, reveling in the fact that Dean was his, and his alone. And he finally had something, someone, to call his own.

Sam gazed down at his journal, looking at the page he had just opened to. There in Dean's messy scrawl was a letter, addressed to him. It was their six month anniversary and Dean had written:


Hopefully you'll see this, but if not, well it's okay because I know one day you will. Today is our six-month anniversary and if you open the closet door you'll find my gift for you along with something else that will be fun for you. I can picture that you're smirking right now and well, Baby, I'll see you when I get home at six and then you better be wearing that cute little black sweater and your sexy jeans because I've got a surprise for you after my shift.

I love you, Sammy.

Happy Anniversary.

Loving you forever,

Sam shook his head, feeling the aforementioned smirk on his face and then he walked over to the closet and opened it. Inside was a large box clad in dark green wrapping paper and tied with a white bow. Sitting on top of it was a smaller box, silver in color, and tied with a black ribbon.

Sam carefully brought out both boxes and opened the smaller one first. Once he removed all the tissue paper, he felt tears well up in his eyes at the silver, charm covered bracelet that sat in between. Attached to it was a small note.

Looked all over for this thing and finally tracked down what your grandparents had done with it! Well, the person who bought it gave it to me for a small price, saying that it rightfully belonged to the son of the wearer and so... Sammy, here is your mother's bracelet. I know she would have wanted you to have it.

Sam carefully placed the bracelet on his wrist, next to the one Clairece had given him as a gift and then smiled through his tears as he opened the bigger box.

Inside that one was a giant teddy bear and a dozen long stemmed red roses. He grabbed the teddy bear and cuddled it close to him, sniffing at the smell of Dean's cologne, which he had apparently sprayed on the bear. Then he reached down and pulled out the roses, quickly sniffing them and then reaching down to pick up another box that was peeking out from the tissue paper.

Sam picked up the box and then gingerly opened it. Inside was a necklace. It was the necklace that Dean always wore. The one Sam played with when they cuddled. Sam felt himself trembling. Why would Dean give him this? This had been Dean's grandfather's necklace. He never took it off!

Sam gently slipped the necklace around his neck, making sure he'd remember to ask Dean about it when he got home later that night.

Sam peered at the clock. It was fifteen after six o'clock. Dean should have been home by now. Sam nervously picked at some lint that was on his sweater, flicking his long bangs out of his face. He got up from the stool at the counter and began to pace. He began to get a weird feeling inside of him like something bad had happened... When the phone rang loud and shrill, echoing around the kitchen, Sam jumped.


Sam said, hoping it was Dean to explain why he was late.


Clairece's voice yelled into his ear.

"Clairece, have you heard from Dean? He's late and he's never late."

"Oh, suga,"

Sam heard Clairece's voice break than she said, her voice sounding tear soaked and overused,

"Dean's been in a car accident, suga. He was just brought to the hospital about five minutes ago. He's been asking for you. I'm on my way over to get you."

The phone dropped from Sam's hand. The blood in his ears roared and his vision darkened as the floor raced up to meet him.

Sam swam inside his mind, nothing making sense, but it was blindingly green and one image stood out, one of Dean smiling happily, his smile bright and his eyes full of love.

Sam felt someone touching him, and then he heard a voice, soft and gentle, yet urgent.

"Sam? Sam?"

Sam weakly opened his eyes and the image that filtered through his dim eyesight was one of Clairece bending over him gently.

"Honey are you alright?"

He struggled to a sitting position.

"Yeah. I'm fine. What about Dean? We got to get to him Clairece!"

He jumped up, faltering a little when he landed on his feet and swayed but continued towards the door, not bothering with his coat or keys. He just wanted to get to Dean. His whole being screamed at him to get to Dean. Dean needed him. He could feel it. Almost as if they shared some kind of connection.

"Sam! Sam wait!"

He heard his door being shut and he dimly heard the lock fall into place and then he was running down the stairs, taking three at a time. He had to get to Dean.

He looked at Clairece's car, figured it was locked and then just started running down the road, his feet smacking loudly on the pavement.


Sam could feel tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. His heart clenched. It was beginning to get hard to breathe, but he kept pushing on. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam registered that this was the worst way to go about things. His lungs were burning in his heaving chest and his vision was unfocused and watery. Everything seemed to slow down and not matter in the wake of Getting To Dean. Headlights flashed behind him and he felt a car pull up next to him.

"Sam! Get in! This will be faster than running! Now come on, suga!"

Sam glanced sideways and then quickly got in Clairece's V.W. Beetle. And then they were flying down the road, Clairece really pushing her foot to the floor.

They arrived at the hospital in under five minutes and Sam was immediately running through the emergency doors, running up the nurses' desk and panting,

"Dean Winchester? He came in not that long ago. Car accident."

The nurse took him in, quirking her eyebrows at his utterly wrecked appearance and replied,

"Room Six, he's just finished going through surgery. But sir-"

Sam was off, walking fast down the long corridor, the lights blinding and harsh.

When he reached room six, he paused, trying to compose himself. Nothing he did though had prepared him for what he saw when he finally mustered the courage to enter.

Dean lay on the stark white bed, tubes and an I.V. attached to him. He looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to his head and body. There was blood on his shirt and a monitor gauged his heartbeat.

Sam slowly walked over, pressing a fist to his mouth to keep from crying, tears already flowing freely down his face.

He stepped over some cords lying on the ground next to the bed gingerly and then sat down on a small chair he saw pushed against a wall. He dragged it to the side, being especially careful not to disturb anything and laying his hand gently on Dean's only free one. His other one was bandaged tightly to his chest. Cuts and bruises marred his face and there were gashes already stitched up on his neck, arms, chest, and Sam could see that his right leg was bandaged and splinted.

"Oh, Dean..."

Sam's head fell forward and he cried, his whole body wracked with sobs.

He felt a hand on his head, the fingers running through his hair softly. He looked up, his vision blurry from almost continuous tears.


A sob that was somewhere between pure happiness and shock escaped his lips and Sam grasped that hand tightly.

"Dean! Oh, Dean, are you...? Is there anything...?"

"I'm okay. Dr. Grayson's patched me up as good as new. It wasn't that bad of an accident. Just some cuts and bruises. And a broken hand and leg, but nothing I can't heal from."

Dean smiled, but Sam noticed the wince that followed.

"You sure it's nothing worse? You're not lying just to make me not worry are you?"

"No, Sammy. That's all. Charles assured me. I just have to stay for a couple days, observation you know?"

Dean smiled again, this time without wincing.

"See? Getting better already."

Sam turned Dean's hand so that it faced palm up and then nuzzled Dean's hand, enjoying the calloused softness.

"I love you, Dean."

Sam's heart was still pounding, between the fear and the running, but he could feel the adrenaline waning. Exhaustion would set in soon, he knew. Questions he'd rather not think about swirled rapidly through his mind, twisting the image of Dean and merging him with injuries Sam vividly remembered from his past. What if something worse had happened? What if I could have prevented it? What if this was somehow my fault? What if something eventually happens to Dean because he's with me?

"I love you too, Sammy. Sorry our anniversary got rui-"


Dean blinked and gazed at Sam cautiously at the vehement answer. Sam's cheeks colored and he kept his focus on stroking Dean's palm as he continued, softer, but just as emphatic.

"Don't say that. It's been the best one I've ever had. The only one. Just knowing you're going to be okay, that's all that matters."

Sam stood up and leaned over Dean, placing his lips softly against Dean's, kissing Dean with as much passion and love as he could without hurting him.

"I love you. Forever."

He whispered against Dean's lips, moving to gently run his hand through Dean's hair, watching as his love closed his eyes and a tear leaked out from each side, listening to the whispered word that came from his mouth.


Sam looked up from the book he was reading when a paper wad hit him in the face. Dean was staring off in the other direction, a look of feigned innocence screwing with his rugged features. Sam put his book down and then walked over to his lover and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I see you're awake."

Dean turned his gaze to Sam and grinned.

"I didn't bruise your tender feelings did I?"

"It was paper, Dean. I'll get over it. How are you holding up?"

"Awesome. My leg hurts, but Charles says it won't be long before I get to go home."

"Good. I can't wait to have you back at home. I'm tired of sleeping by myself."

"And how are you? No more nightmares I hope."

"No, no more nightmares,"

Sam's eyes flickered down and then back up.

"I just wanted to thank you for the anniversary gifts. I didn't get the chance before and..."

He murmured, his eyes suddenly wet with unshed tears. Sam was getting sick and tired of constantly feeling like he was going to break down weeping every moment. Dean shrugged it off, but raised his good hand to Sam's face and gently ran his thumb over his

"It was nothing. I just wanted to get your mother's bracelet back for you. I know she meant a lot to you."

"Yeah, she did. I'll admit, what my grandparent's did to me will stay with me for my entire life, but I believe, because of you, I'm slowly healing and realizing that what they said about me wasn't true."

Dean blushed a charming shade of red and pulled him closer, kissing him deeply. When they separated for breath, Dean noted the necklace around Sam's neck.

"You're wearing my necklace."

"I wanted to mention that. Why did you give it to me? It was your grandfather's and you never take it off."

"I gave it to you because,"

Dean paused, collecting his thoughts before saying,

"Because I want you to have it. It was given to me out of love and I guess I wanted to continue it..."

Dean trailed off, ducking his head and scratching at the back of his neck. His face was flushed, but Sam found him quite endearing. When Dean glanced up, Sam realized he hadn't replied yet.


Dean laughed embarrassedly and then pulled Sam closer kissing him again.

"I love you, Sammy."

"I love you too, Dean. Can't wait till you're able to come back home."

"Me either,"

Dean said nuzzling into the crook of Sam's neck. They stayed like that until Clairece came to take Sam out, saying that she would bring him back when visiting hours were available again.

Dean stared down at the cast that was on his leg. He could see the scribbles and flourishes of all of his friends and coworkers and family's signatures. But one stood out more than all the others.

Sam's signature.

Dean was sitting in the living room, the T.V. going but he wasn't paying any attention. He was busy watching Sam sleep next to him. The younger man whimpered and Dean pulled him closer. It was few weeks after his stay in the hospital and Charles had said that while his arm was completely healed, it was going to take longer for his leg to heal.

Sam began to whimper even louder and started struggling against Dean's hold on him. Dean knew that Sam was having a nightmare again. He had tried his best to keep them from Dean, he would give the younger man that, but Dean had figured it out after three sleepless nights of holding Sam as he struggled against whatever haunted his mind.

Dean sighed and just held Sam tighter, whispering softly in his ear. Sam had said he was doing better, but Dean wondered if he just said it so he wouldn't worry anymore. Well, tough shit, he was gonna worry because that's what Dean does best. Sam was his and he loved him. He would do his damnedest to protect him, and even work overtime because of his bum leg.

Finally, Sam moaned and his struggling stopped. His eyes opened, but they were unfocused, still caught in the nightmares that ravaged his mind. Dean kissed Sam gently on his temple and that got his hazel eyes to focus and he clutched at Dean, his big hands entangling themselves in Dean's hair.

"Shhh, Sammy,"

Dean said softly as Sam sobbed against his shoulder,

"It's okay. I'm right here. No need to cry. Come on, baby."

He just held Sam closer, and didn't even try to stop the few tears that fell from his eyes.

But he knew one thing: they were going to talk about the nightmare and try to get to the root of it. Sam was broken, but not unfixable. And Dean was going to fix him, no matter what the cost.

Sam awoke to sunlight streaming in from the window. He rubbed his eyes sleepily as he sat up, trying to remember the events from the night before. It was mostly a haze, but he did remember the nightmare and crying as Dean held him.

He sighed and got up, walking down the hall to the bathroom. He thought he was getting better. Hell, it had been almost seven months since he had met Dean at the hospital. He thought he was over all that depression that was his childhood. He had finally found someone who loved him and wanted him. Why was he still having the fucking nightmare and why was he feeling as if he were about to lose everything he held dear?

Sam shook his head and finished peeing, flushing the toilet and then hopping in the shower after a few seconds. He let the warm water splash on his head for a few minutes, hoping the hot spray would relieve some of the depressing thoughts and the slight headache that was being to form.

He just hoped Dean wasn't catching on to what he was hiding. Not that he wanted to hide anything from the man he loved, but he didn't want Dean to worry. He felt the shower curtain pull back, cool air streaming into the hot mist that floated around his drenched back, but then it was back to normal and warm hands were snaking around his waist and an even warmer body was soon pressed against his backside.

"Good morning,"

Dean said, his voice rough with sleep and sexy as Hell.

"Good morning,"

Sam said, turning around in Dean's embrace to lean down a little and kiss his full lips.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah. Did you? And don't lie to me Sammy."

Something about the way Dean said that made Sam freeze for just a second. He breezed over it.

"Are you sure you should be showering? I mean, your leg..."

"Is fine. I can stand on it, Charles said that it would actually help the healing process a little. Once we're done here, I'll go sit down and use the crutches. And you ignored my question."

Sam averted his eyes from Dean's penetrating green ones.

"I slept well... and okay... good, if that's what Charles said then good."

Dean's fingers were cupping Sam's chin and then they were kissing. He wrapped his arms around Dean's middle and gently moved him to put him under the spray of the shower head. Sam watched, mesmerized as the water washed down his lover, over every contour, every muscle, it was just so fucking beautiful and it turned Sam on like crazy.

"Somebody is really happy to see me this morning."

"I-I'm always happy to see you,"

Sam stuttered and turned his head away, not sure why he suddenly couldn't look Dean in the face.

Dean's hand brought his face back to his for a passionate kiss, Sam grinding his body into Dean's, holding Dean up with his arms that were still tightly wrapped. Their tongues slid in and out of each others' mouths, Sam more hesitant and Dean more agile. Sam would move in and Dean would twist and flick against the side of Sam's mouth or lick the roof. Sam shivered.

After a few minutes they separated, breathing deeply, both hating that breath was so necessary.

"Wanna take this to the bedroom?"

Sam asked, his voice soft and throaty.

"Hell yeah,"

Dean didn't pause in quickly shutting off the shower and leading Sammy back to the bedroom.