Notes: I indulged in a lot of kink and some of it may squick. I blame it all on a website I found.... the stuff there was the stuff of.... well, kink!

Captured by the Game

Angyl

Disclaimer: Owned by Kripke, Singer and the CW, lucky bastards!

Marquis de Sade

They’d been hunting a storm hag in Pennsylvania when Dean had finally stopped running on instinct alone and had started thinking; remembering. It was something he hadn’t allowed himself to do up until now, something Sam had been around to help distract him from doing by simply being Sam. The problem was that Sam wasn’t there to keep him centered and to give him a focus other than his own terrifying thoughts when Dean needed it most.

He’d killed for Sam. God, he’d killed Jo for his brother; an innocent woman whose only crimes were carrying a torch for Dean and for being a hunter. She hadn’t been evil or possessed; she’d simply been in the way. The guilt of who he now was, the shame and the horror of this mockery of a life he now lived, of what he’d become for Sam, was finally biting Dean on the ass and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The thing was, Dean had grown accustomed to having Sam around him 24/7 since Sam had ‘accepted his destiny’ or what the fuck ever. Once he’d gone dark and had staked his claim on Dean and Dean’s ass respectively Sam had started watching his brother like a hawk to make sure that Dean wasn’t falling back into old and now unacceptable behaviors, like flirting with anything that moved. Sam also wanted to ensure that no one else dared to covet what was his alone.

However, Sam had finally decided he’d broken Dean sufficiently to trust him or he’d been seduced by the surprisingly impressive occult section in this otherwise backward part of the state they were currently visiting. Either way Sam was off reveling at the library in all his geek glory while once again playing research boy and Dean, unfortunately, was left alone with his thoughts, which was never a good thing.

There was a reason why Dean went with his gut as opposed to his head, his gut never lied to him but his head... well there was a whole lot of fucked up shit going on in there including the realization that they were living in some surreal and twisted mirror of the life they’d had before Sam had turned. After all, here they were in fucking Presque Isle, Pennsylvania hunting a sea witch who was causing storms and pulling innocent victims under the waves when his own brother was a fucking killer himself! And now Dean was too, thanks to Sam.

But that was part and parcel of the conundrum that was his brother, evil or not. Sam had never conformed to anyone trying to pigeonhole him into what he ‘should’ be so it was no surprise that he didn’t follow the conventional rules of ‘evil things’ now that he’d embraced his inner Anakin. Sam still hunted the evil and the supernatural and enjoyed it, but Dean also knew that Sam hunted the hunters as well.

Jo may have been Dean’s test, his sin - it had been Sam’s way of binding Dean even more tightly to him by forcing Dean to get his hands tainted with the blood of an innocent - but the rest had been all Sam though. Ellen and Ash had been Sam’s way of making a point - ‘don’t come after me and don’t touch what’s mine, or you’ll find out what I can do’. Ellen and Ash had both made the mistake of trying to warn Dean that Sam was turning, not knowing that Dean was already far too aware of the fact, and in the end all they had done was give Sam the excuse to finally give in to his darker desires completely and to drag Dean down with him.

Gordon…well Dean wasn’t going to lose any sleep over that son of a bitch even considering how Sam had ended him. Literally ripped apart at the hands of Lenore and her fangs, vampires who’d seen the dark that had already started to fester inside of his brother and had decided to ally themselves with that power. They’d stayed in the shadows watching, waiting and following silently in the brothers’ wake. When Sam had turned dark they’d emerged and had offered up their loyalty, their connections and their abilities to him in return for continued protection from hunters. The fangs had been smart enough to realize that Sam was someone you didn’t want as an enemy and so Sam had rewarded them for their loyalty: with Gordon. He stood there and watched with dark glee as Gordon died screaming and cursing his name.

There were others as well. Those hunters who thought they could go after Sam or use Dean against him. There were those seeking revenge for Gordon, Ash and the Harvelles. Dean thanked God that Bobby hadn’t been among them and that Sam seemed content to leave their father’s old friend be. It was the one thing that could have pushed Dean into taking action against Sam and his brother seemed to realize this and was more than happy to leave Bobby alone so long as he left them alone.

As for the rest of the hunters out there, it hadn’t mattered who they were or what they had been to the Winchesters, they were all fair game if they did something to piss Sam off. Or worse, went after Dean.

The only things this new Sam seemed to care about were surviving, having a good time and fucking his older brother into the mattress or any other surface as often as he could. Through it all they kept hunting. Sam found new pleasure in the hunt now that he’d turned. It was the thrill, the way it made his blood sing and the satisfaction of being stronger, faster, smarter, and more deadly than the prey. Hunting kept him sharp, took out the competition, and gave Sam one hell of an edge. Plus it was what had defined Dean all his life and had given his brother purpose so Sam considered it a worthwhile pursuit.

His real obsession, though, was Dean. Everything Sam did, everyone he killed, every law he broke – it was in order to keep he and Dean together. Anyone and anything that threatened them was eliminated coldly, ruthlessly, brutally. No questions, no second chances, they were just put down and forgotten about. No one and nothing mattered so much as Dean and the all consuming desire Sam had for him. It overshadowed everything else but for that one area of Sam’s life that the brothers never talked about... the fact that Sam was now technically fighting for the ‘other’ side.

The thing was, Dean was pretty sure he might have been able follow Dad’s last order if Sam was like he had been while possessed by Meg. If Sam had been a crazy-assed killer who wanted only to cause Dean as much agony as possible before killing him it might have been different. If Sam had done all those things he’d whispered so softly he was going to do to Dean before killing him when he’d been Sam/Meg... torture, violence, rape, mind-fucks - then maybe Dean could have pulled the trigger in the end…Maybe. Because what would Dean have to live for then, if he didn’t even have Sam?

But it wasn’t like that, Sam wasn’t like that. Sure he had already proven to Dean that he could be harsh, cruel, dominant and possessive as all hell but Sam had also shown that he was sweet, protective and loving. Dean was his first priority and Sam never forgot that. Ever.

If Dean got injured in a hunt Sam would, after making sure the fucker that had caused the injury was good and painfully dead, take care of Dean with sure and gentle hands, cleaning and bandaging any wounds and would then pretty much coddle Dean until he was better. And Dean, despite the fact that it drove him nuts, let him. Sam also continued to do the same dorky, sappy, emo things that he’d always done. They would argue over music and who drove and where they would sleep and in what dive of a diner they would eat at.

Sam still made his stupid little bitch faces at the state of the bathrooms of the motels they stayed at and always had to brush his teeth after every meal and the real kicker to Dean’s way of thinking... Sam wanted Dean to fuck him from time to time as well. He said he liked taking it up the butt as much as he liked giving it and wasn’t afraid of giving up any sense of control to Dean. Hell, Sam got off on being tied up and fucked and Dean was more than willing to play that game. It was almost enough to convince Dean that everything was just a nightmare brought on by a bad bean burrito.

Unless Dean screwed up and forgot that there was something dark and deadly lying beneath the surface in his brother. For instance, if Dean so much as looked at a nice pair of tits or ass... well he’d learned real fast not to get caught and finally not to do it at all.

The first time it happened Sam had dragged him out of the bar into the back alley and had taken him right there, pressed him into the abrasive brick wall and fucked him dry. Dean almost tore through his lip to keep from screaming in pain while Sam just about severed an artery as he bit into Dean’s neck hard enough to draw blood and leave a set of his teeth marks to scar on Dean’s body as he filled Dean’s ass with his come. Afterwards, back at the motel, Sam had gently cleaned him up and applied antibiotic cream to both his neck and ass while murmuring how sorry he was that he’d had to hurt Dean but that Dean had to understand that he belonged to Sam and Sam alone.

There were other a few more incidents that involved blood, pain and whispered apologies wrapped with dire warnings and threats of further reprisals as Dean continued to try and hold onto that tiny bit of independence and normalcy, something that was his and his alone - a reminder of who he’d used to be before. He’d learned to hide it from Sam, had thought he’d figured out how not to get caught as Dean refused to stop, needing this one last escape from what he’d become. Dean had kept pushing the envelope, trying to convince himself that he was getting away with it until one night Sam made it perfectly clear that he’d finally run out of patience.

The next time that Dean fucked a pretty slut in the back of a smoky bar when he thought Sam wasn’t around had been his last.

The following night Dean went out to hustle some cash at a local pool hall and when he came back Sam wasn’t alone anymore; he’d gone out while his brother wasn’t there and had found and lured Dean’s piece of ass back to the room. Dean came into the room just in time to watch as she was pinned to the wall and her neck snapped without so much as Sam laying a finger on her. "Christ! Jesus Sam! What the hell have you done?" Dean had gasped, moving forward to try and find a pulse, his mind trying desperately to deny the stark brutality of what he’d just witnessed.

Sam caught his shoulders between large hands and spun him back into a wall. "You think I didn’t know? Couldn’t see what you were doing when I closed my eyes and thought of you?" Sam demanded, fingers digging hard into Dean’s flesh, bruising him and making him grit his teeth against the pain. "No more, Dean," Sam growled, claiming his brother’s mouth violently. "Because I’ll kill the next one, and the next, and the next until you get it that I’m serious. No one but me gets to have you. You’re Mine! Get that through your head or I swear I’ll leave a path of bodies from here to hell and back if that’s what it takes to make you realize the truth." Dean had stopped struggling and had sagged limply against the wall. There was no way he would let anyone else die simply because he was trying to hold on to who he’d been back when Sam was his innocent little Sammy and they were merely brothers, not lovers. There was no way he could deny it any more, Sam owned him, body and soul.

"I get it, Sam. I get it. Just... Christ, you killed her, Sam!" Dean replied hoarsely, his eyes not leaving the girl who had dropped to the motel room’s floor like a broken marionette that’d had her strings cut once Sam had changed his focus from her to Dean.

"Yeah, I did," Sam replied with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders as he began to nuzzle his way down Dean’s throat. "God, I love the way you smell, the way you taste. So fucking hot, so mine. Get on the bed," Sam ordered softly as he ground against Dean’s stomach, his growing erection in evidence.

"Sam what about the girl..." Dean began, continuing to look at the dead doll staring sightlessly back at him. He wasn’t squeamish about much, not considering what he’d had to do for the sake of a hunt but there were some lines that even he wouldn’t cross and the idea that Sam wanted to have sex with a body in the room turned Dean’s stomach.

"Get. On. The. Bed. Dean," Sam growled, biting down hard on his brother’s neck hard enough to make Dean yelp and shy away from the pain.

Dean closed his eyes and drew in a deep, calming breath. He couldn’t even begin to fathom just how fucked up their life had become if Sam wanted to have sex while there was a dead body in the room with them; a dead body that had been very much alive not fifteen minutes beforehand. The dead body of the woman Sam had killed because Dean had fucked her the night before. If he ever needed more proof than what had already been handed to him on a platter, that Sam was no longer one of the good guys, this was it.

However, there was no way in hell that Dean was giving in on this. He might have to give up the catting around, the women, the fucking, the flirting and pretty much everything else that Sam constituted as being not acceptable behavior but he had to draw the line somewhere. "Not while there’s a dead body in the room, Sam. I don’t care how fucking turned on you are, I am not having sex with you while the woman you murdered is lying over there with her fucking eyes open staring at me! Jesus. It’s bad enough we’ll have to salt and burn her just to make sure she doesn’t come back to haunt our asses but I refuse to desecrate the dead like that. No. Just... No!" Dean snarled, backing away from both Sam and the bed.

"Christ, how could you even think I could get it up when there’s a corpse cooling on the floor not three fucking feet away? I don’t know you anymore, Sam, I really don’t." That said Dean turned and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him but not bothering to lock it. No point, if Sam wanted to he could rip the door off its hinges without a thought and if he went with the silent approach could pick the lock in under fifty seconds.

Running the tap Dean splashed some cold water on his face then slid down onto the floor, his back wedged against the tub as he stared as his shaking hands and willed them to stop trembling. Funny, he could have sex on a mortuary table with that hot morgue attendant in Albuquerque where a vault full of dead bodies was only a room away but the idea of having sex while the waitress he’d fucked the night before was cooling on the floor next to the bed was about as close to sacrilegious as Dean could imagine. How fucked up was that?

Dean eventually pulled himself together and was surprised that Sam hadn’t busted out the door yet or demanded he come out. Glancing at his watch Dean realized that he’d been there for almost an hour. So why hadn’t Sam come after him? Maybe his brother had finally got tired of him and had left... God, what if Sam had left him? Dean’s heart stuttered like a frightened rabbit and he was through the door and in the main room before he could even string together a coherent thought. The room was empty.

Dean had just started to panic when the lock turned and Sam entered. He stopped just inside the door and caught and held Dean’s gaze looking... not contrite, because Sam never apologized for anything anymore... but like he was unhappy at causing Dean upset. And then he noticed the panic and the fear in his brother’s eyes. "Dean? What’s wrong?"

Dean was across the room, mouth sealed over Sam’s cutting off his flow of words as he kissed Sam with desperation. "Sam I’m..." Dean choked on the apology. He wasn’t sorry he’d put his foot down but he was sorry he had almost driven Sam away. "I shouldn’t have said no and walked away. I won’t do it again. Just... don’t leave again okay?"

"Dean, I’m not going to leave you," Sam replied softly. "You’re mine, remember? I was... cleaning up the mess I made, that’s all," he continued, running his hands up and down his brother’s back soothingly. "I didn’t think, I just wanted you, wanted to have you now that you’ve finally stopped fighting me. It was... insensitive of me," Sam continued coming as close to apologizing as he had since he’d decided to stop with the guilt and the emo angsting and take what he wanted.

Sam knew he should have thought his actions through more than he had. However, the high of killing the little bitch who’d dared touch what was his combined with the knowledge that Dean had foresworn anyone else but Sam for the rest of his life had heated his blood and made him want his brother right then and there, everything else be damned.

Sam wanted a consort, not a concubine, to stand by his side in the world that he was slowly helping to shape; which meant he needed Dean whole in mind as well as body. But Sam should have been more careful. Dean was still at a fragile stage, he still believed he was independent and unfettered as ever, that he had the will to walk away from Sam if he was ever forced to. His brother didn’t yet understand just how deep Sam had imbedded himself into his brother, mind, flesh and soul.

Dean had no idea of the power behind those symbols Sam had so lovingly cut into his brother’s flesh, binding Dean with blood and sex and the darkest of spells. Anyone who knew what to look for could see Sam’s ownership written across Dean’s body and the protection woven around him like a net. They could also see the tracking sigils embedded deep in Dean’s flesh, proof that Sam would come for his brother no matter what and when he did: nothing would protect those who dared to touch what was his. But Dean wasn’t cognizant of the warnings and declarations that now decorated his body, all Dean knew was that every once in a while Sam indulged in his new cutting fetish using Dean as his canvas and that was how Sam wanted it, for now.

And right now his gut was urging him to add another to Dean’s collection. His instinct was one of the things that Sam relied on most of all after his ‘change’ as Dean so quaintly put it. Sam just figured he’d finally embraced his natural talents and put them to good use, like he had the death visions back when he actually gave a shit when people were dying at the hands of the yellow-eyed son of a bitch. Either way Sam wasn’t going to ignore the urge that had suddenly come over him.

"Dean, I want you to take off your clothes, strip the bed and then get on your back," Sam ordered softly, his voice dark with want. Sam turned and rummaged through his bag for his cutting knife, a wicked smile painting his face as he heard Dean’s near silent indrawn breath. Sam could already feel his arousal and adrenalin rush racing through him as he mapped out the design in his mind. Simple, elegant, effective, it was Sumerian in origin but Sam planned on changing it slightly to suit him. He even had the spot already picked out, low on Dean’s abdomen just above his right hipbone.

Sam could already picture himself tracing the pattern with his tongue once it had healed. Dean would look so fucking hot and the skin would be so sensitive... fuck, he was hard already. The cutting could wait. Grabbing the lube out of his bag he began to strip out of his own clothes and walked towards the bed with a lascivious smile. "First things first," he purred, stalking over to the bed. "I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be too exhausted to even squirm."

After that Sam had seemed to let go a little more, trust Dean out of his sight for hours instead of minutes. Dean had stopped fighting him on everything and had had accepted that he belonged to Sam and Sam alone. Things evened out and life got back to some semblance of normal. Dean’s new scar healed nicely and they continued to hunt and fuck as Sam quietly went about building alliances and laying foundations for the future and eliminating any opposition.

Dean had drifted along, constantly torturing himself with an internal soundtrack of "if I had only seen the truth," set on constant repeat in his brain as he and Sam had continued on with their twisted little life on the road hunting things and, if by some fluke of nature it happened, saving people too. The people meant nothing to Sam, only Dean, but if saving a few here and there kept Dean happy and relatively content his brother considered it a small sacrifice to make so at least some small good was coming out of this. Dean was slowly accepting his place at Sam’s side and his new life. It was hard but the alternative was unacceptable so Dean was slowly learning to adapt and not chafe at the loss of his old freedoms too much because all that brought him was pain and the death of others.

And then they’d come to Presque Isle and Dean had hit the proverbial wall. Sam was in the library geeking it out and digging into the story behind Jenny Greentooth, the Storm Hag. Dean, bored out of his skull had gone on a coffee run and was getting one of those damned whipped cream mocha latte whatever the fuck drinks Sam liked along with a regular coffee for himself when he’d glanced out the window and felt his heart fail on him for the second time in his life.

Jo Harvelle stood in profile on the other side of the glass, looking down the street and laughing at something out of sight. The coffee hit the floor but Dean barely heard the barista’s apologies over the screaming terror that clawed its way up his throat as his mind raced to figure out if he was being haunted or if by some miracle Jo really was alive. Then she turned and looked into the store and ‘Jo’ morphed into some dewy faced teenaged girl who was a complete stranger. But it had been enough to snap him out of his fugue and send him into a tailspin of blind, animal panic. His cell phone began to ring almost immediately but Dean thumbed it off as he slid behind the wheel and that was his last conscious thought as he gunned the engine and just drove.

By the time he stopped long enough to breathe and actually think things through instead of just blindly panicking, Dean had already passed through West Virginia and was three quarters of the way through Kentucky. There were twenty voice messages on his phone, all from Sam, all of which he deleted without listening to and he had a blinding headache which he chalked up to too much coffee, too much stress and too little sleep. He couldn’t believe he’d done it. Dean had run from Sam.

He knew that Sam would be hot on his trail and would be pissed so he didn’t have a lot of time. He couldn’t rely on any of the remaining hunters because even if they didn’t try to kill him or use him as bait Sam would just cut a bloody swathe through them trying to get to him. No, he was completely on his own and Mexico was sounding better and better by the minute, or maybe he could do a complete 180 and head up into Canada, or even stow away on a cruise ship and head to some tropical country where he could just disappear forever. Anything was preferable to the idea of going back and facing the music right at that particular moment. Now all Dean had to do was catch a few hours sleep, hit the road, keep running, and try to stay one step ahead of his brother. Christ, he was screwed.

The twelve hours passed in a blur of bad coffee, black top and out of the way gas stations but he was that much farther away from Sam and that much closer to escape. It was a day of always watching over his shoulder for signs he was being tracked, signs of the FBI, the police or of Sam, and knowing that somewhere out there his brother was getting closer and closer.

Agonizing hours where Dean replayed over and over again the night that he had executed Jo for Sam, because his brother had told him to and Dean hadn’t been able to tell him no, not even to save the life of an innocent girl. The guilt was eating him alive and it exhausted him more than any hunt ever could.

And it made him sloppy.

Dean made it as far as the other side of Little Rock, Arkansas when Sam finally caught up with him.

He should have been expecting it, honestly; but this new and ‘improved’ Sam was still somewhat of a mystery to him. There were the ‘oh shit’ moments when Sam was snapping the necks of Dean’s sex partners or doing something to some evil son of a bitch or some hunter that threatened them but for the most part Sam was still his Sam…well his Sam in a sort of negative relief with most light parts gone dark and twisted. Admittedly Dean hadn’t really seen Sam in full ‘evil overlord’ mode yet apart from that night he’d killed the waitress so Dean really had no way of knowing what his skipping out on his brother would do to Sam.

He should have anticipated better, god knew dad taught them to never underestimate the enemy, and while Dean had and would continue to kill to keep Sam safe, if he were pressed into admitting it, there was no doubt in his mind that he and Sam were fighting for entirely different reasons in this war. Dean was trying to save people while stopping the yellow-eyed bastard and all his filth and Sam…well Sam was eliminating opposition plain and simple.

All these thoughts kept Dean’s mind spinning like a dervish, adding to his level of exhaustion and confusion. It finally forced him to admit defeat and pull into the first motel he could find instead of pressing on, trying to get more distance between him and Sam.

The motel wasn’t a five star but it wasn’t a complete dive either. It was crappy but secure. Dean staggered inside and found the energy to salt the doors and windows and use some chalk to mark any point of ingress and egress with protective sigils before collapsing, still fully dressed, and falling into a dead sleep.

There was sun in his face when he woke up. Dean was positive that the damned things had been shut when he’d come into the room. Groaning, Dean tried to roll off the bed only to find he could hardly move. Dean’s eyes snapped open. What the fuck?

A quick evaluation of his situation told Dean that his arms were above his head and around his wrists were shackles, shiny leather lined chrome shackles attached to chains which were, in turn, attached to the steel posts of the four poster bed he found himself on. Ditto for his legs. And he was naked. Naked and chained spread-eagled on a bed in a bedroom which was definitely not the shit hole motel room he’d fallen asleep in.

Mouth dry, Dean swallowed hard and felt the heavy weight of a collar around his neck, secured by a padlock resting in the hollow of his throat and moving slightly under the movement. While bondage had always been a fantasy of his, this was a little on the perturbing side given he had no fucking clue as to how and why he ended up here. And then the light bulb went off. Sam had caught up to him.

"I’m psychic, Dean, did you really think you could run far enough fast enough to get away from me?" Sam growled from the doorway as if conjured by Dean’s train of thought, his eyes so dark that Dean could have sworn that Meg was back up in him. Stalking into the room Sam loomed over the bed, looking down at his brother splayed like a sacrifice before him.

"I thought we were doing all right, Dean, great in fact. I trusted you and you ran. Now we have to start over and this time... well I need to make sure you never leave me again. You’re mine and I’m never letting you go. Now you need to learn just what that means."

"Sam I..." Dean began only to flinch at the almost animalistic snarl that erupted from his brother.

"No. Not another damned word. I don’t want to hear your excuses or your lies. You. Left. Me!" Sam bellowed, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as his whole body shook with fury, the bed frame shaking in tandem with it as the air in the room crackled and zinged with ozone.

Dean swallowed hard. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever seen Sam this pissed. He had the feeling that screwed didn’t even begin to cover his current situation. His eyes darted around quickly, trying to assess what his options were, what he could do to make things right and whether, he so didn’t want to think it but he had to, whether there were any bodies that he’d have add to the growing tally of the people Sam killed over him.

The room itself was huge - bright and well appointed with what looked like high-end stuff - there was a wall of windows with a balcony door and beyond that all Dean could see from his prone position were the tops of trees and a blue sky full of fluffy white clouds. He couldn’t hear anything other than Sam’s angry exhalations and his own panicky breathing but that didn’t mean there was nobody else around... or it could mean something far more gruesome then Dean cared to contemplate at the moment.

"No I didn’t kill anyone... this time. I simply... convinced... the owners to forget about this place for a while. It appealed to me. Light, airy, very secluded and a little farther north than where you stopped. Not another human being for a good 10 miles in any direction. So don’t worry about screaming, you won’t be disturbing any neighbors or having someone call the cops," Sam said, a nasty smile painting his face.

"And before you ask, no I can’t read minds, I just happen to know you better than you know yourself. I have to say, though, I don’t know whether I should be flattered or insulted that your mind automatically goes to me killing people to get what I want these days. So little faith in the new me, Dean, why is that?"

Dean bit down on his lip to prevent himself from answering. Sam had said not to talk and while Dean’s first and natural inclination was to shoot his mouth off years of survival instincts were screaming at him to keep his mouth shut.

"Wow, I’m impressed. This may not take a long as I thought," Sam responded after a few moments. He almost looked disappointed that Dean hadn’t reacted as expected. "But then again, you are a creature of habit, lover mine, and I have no doubt you’ll slip up eventually, after all that’s what landed us here, isn’t it? So shall we start then?" Walking over to a sleek looking console table Sam picked up the cloth that covered it and paused to look back over his shoulder at Dean musingly.

"I’ve been collecting these for a while, since I decided to stop feeling guilty about coveting my brother and made him my lover instead, actually. I was waiting for the right time to introduce you to my collection but your impression of ‘Running Man’ forced my hand a little sooner than I had anticipated. However now that I think about it, you really need to learn some discipline in areas other than weapons maintenance. Seriously, Dean, I don’t know how you managed to not to get some stupid cunt pregnant or find yourself on the barrel end of a shotgun wedding given your blatant lack of self discipline. It’s a fucking miracle really, and while we’re dealing with your lack of control you really need to learn how to listen to me and obey me when I give you an order. I don’t do it often but when I do it’s for a reason and having you ignore me is one serious piss off. I really shouldn’t have waited so long to have this out with you, apparently. If I’d made my feelings clear from the beginning I highly doubt the events of the past few days would have happened at all."

Dean tasted copper as he clamped down harder on the inside of his lower lip in order to keep from speaking. He knew, knew, that Sam was deliberately trying to goad him into talking when he’d made it damned clear that anything Dean said would be met with... Christ, punishment. Dean may have given in and gone with the flow on a lot of the shit that had happened over the past months but he was still intrinsically Dean Winchester and the very idea of obeying anyone, especially his dorky kid brother, just rubbed him the wrong fucking way. If Sam thought he’d let himself become a fucking... pet he had another thing coming.

Sam, who had been watching Dean’s reaction from the mirror above the console, almost laughed as he watched the emotions flow across his brother’s face. Dean might have the world’s best poker face where the rest of the world was concerned but Sam had always been able to read his brother like a book. He had purposely chosen his words to see if he could goad a reaction out of Dean, to see just how far he could bait him until he went off. Sam had to admit he really was impressed with his brother’s restraint but at the same time it irritated him to realize that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t know Dean quite as well as he thought he did.

It would be so easy to just give in and let the monster inside of him out. There was something so... vulnerable about his brother; a soft underbelly of desperate need... to be loved, to be accepted, to be wanted. Sam couldn’t deny that he had been just as guilty of contributing to Dean’s emotional scars over the years as their father had. But it also meant that now he had intimate knowledge of all the buttons to push, all the sore points to poke at and all of Dean’s hidden wounds that he could make bleed. If he let the beast out Sam knew he’d do just that, break Dean beyond any hope of repair. And part of him wanted to, the part that writhed and roiled and curled in his belly like a fiery hydra, full of venom, malice and anger.

But Sam didn’t want Dean broken. No, that he’d save for his enemies and for those who stood in his way. The yellow-eyed bastard may have made Sam like this for his own purposes but Sam would be damned if he toed the line like a good little boy. He hadn’t done that with John, his real father, so why the hell would he do it with a demon who’d caused such pain in his life and had helped turn him into this darkling thing that he’d become?

Sam had his own plans and ambitions for the future and chief among them was making Dean realize just how important, how necessary he was to Sam. No, Sam didn’t want a slave or a plaything – he wanted a consort and companion. But there was a hierarchy amongst those dark and unclean things that he now associated with; there were rules and unspoken laws and if Sam couldn’t control his lover how could he expect to be obeyed by anyone else? So Dean had to learn to play the game, for his own survival and for Sam’s.

Which led Sam’s thoughts full circle and back to the task at hand while at the same time did wonders for diffusing the unholy fury that had fuelled Sam from the moment he’d felt Dean’s spike of sheer terror and the blind panic that had followed as his brother closed himself off, shut himself down and ran from Sam. Maybe he really had been going at this the wrong way, not that he’d ever admit it. Sam had to concede, at least to himself, that if he’d tried talking to Dean, things might have been a little different.

Sam had started down this road now and he had to finish or Dean would question him each and every time he felt rebellious and Sam couldn’t have that. Perhaps he could change the rules a little bit though. After all it wasn’t like Dean had any clue as to what Sam wanted to do and how he had wanted to mold Dean into the proper companion for someone who planned on being at the top of the dark food chain sooner rather than later. No, perhaps there could be conversation as well as conditioning, pleasure as well as punishment. That decided Sam looked down at the implements spread before him. It was time to start.

Sam perused his collection with a satisfied grin. He’d chosen each and every piece carefully with an eye for detail and how it would look on and in Dean. The whole point was to enhance his brother’s beauty and sexuality, not overpower it with brutish pieces. There were a few pieces that were heavier and harsher, meant to be used with punishment in mind, and those were the ones that his hand drifted towards now.

The vibrating anal plug was inflatable and would make sure Dean was constantly aware of his ass, the chastity device, amusingly called the gates of hell, would ensure his brother couldn’t achieve a full erection no matter how stimulated his prostate was. With Dean securely fastened to the bed and the plug blown up and vibrating in his ass it wouldn’t take Sam long to reduce Dean to begging, of that he had no doubt. Finally Sam picked up a pair of nipple clamps with a chain suspended between them. Pleasure and pain all mixed together. But first...

Picking up the final choice of this session first Sam walked over to the bed and sat down next to Dean. Leaning down over him Sam slipped on the blindfold before Dean realized what he was planning. "I love you, Dean," he whispered into his brother’s ear. "Never doubt that. Everything I’ve done in recent months, since I finally accepted what I really was, I’ve done for you and for us."

"Yeah, right Sam, I believe you, really I do," Dean replied bitterly, no longer able to hold his tongue any more. "Like teaching me obedience like some trained animal is just a kinky new form of foreplay, right? So turning me into a fucking pet is just your way of showing you love me? If that’s what your idea of love is these days I think I’ll take a rain check, thanks all the same."

Sam drew in a sharp breath. The one thing he had never considered was that Dean would doubt his love and it was painful to hear him say so. "I do love you, you’re my life. Before this over you’ll never doubt me again," Sam replied softly, firmly. "There’s so much you need to understand and I promise, no more secrets. I’ll tell you what you need to know, I’ll tell you why and how and what I’ve done to make sure we survive.

"But there is a reason I do everything, Dean, even this. You are my chosen companion, my lover and my love. You swore to protect me, Dean, to keep me safe, to save me. You said you’d never leave me... but you did. You broke your vow. You, more than anyone, should understand the power contained in a vow and the damage breaking one can do... I can’t risk you ever doing this again. We got lucky this time; no one knew you ran from me. Next time we may not be so fortunate, so you need to understand. There are consequences, and I will do whatever it takes to ensure that we survive, even if it means doing this to you." Pressing a hard kiss to Dean’s mouth Sam tasted blood and groaned hungrily, grinding his mouth down harder still, baptizing their lips in blood.

Pulling back Sam went to collect the items he’d chosen to start Dean’s... training. Because that’s exactly what it was, training Dean in some of the survival skills he would require in order to be able to live and thrive in the future Sam had started to create.

Sam started with the gates of hell, knowing it would be easier to get on his brother when Dean was still flaccid. Palming Dean’s cock Sam carefully wrapped the rubber strap that acted as a cock ring around the base of his penis and then repeated the motion with the strap for his balls.

Dean started and jerked and tried to pull away but the chains held him in place. "What the hell, man?"

"Don’t make me gag you, Dean, because I will. I may not be as angry as I was when I first realized you ran but that doesn’t mean that you can’t re-inspire me with that mouth of yours," Sam warned in a steely voice. "I meant what I said... you need to learn self-control, Dean. You need to learn that I am the protector now, not you, and that you need to come to me when things get too hard instead of running from me and I will teach it to you."

Dean let his head thump back on the bed. With his eyes covered he couldn’t see a damned thing, only feel Sam’s hands when they touched him or moved over his skin. He wanted desperately to tell Sam to fuck off, that this game was over and he was tired of playing but he had to face the fact that this wasn’t a game. Sam was doing this to him. His Sammy, the pudgy little kid who’d looked up at him with eyes full of hero-worship and wonder; the teenager who’d tried so hard to walk with the same swagger and sense of bravado, the young man who’d left home, and him, behind for a new, safe life.

This was no longer the same Sam who’d hunted with him, watched his back and who he’d watched over and protected for the past three years. That Sam was gone and in his place was this amalgam of his beloved Sammy and this new and terrifying creature. The new Sam had no problems with making Dean, his brother, into his lover. He had no problems killing to keep what was his any more than he had a problem manipulating people and using them until they were no longer of any use to him. This new Sam had no problems using the powers that the demon gave him and was discovering new ones all the time. This Sam consorted with those things he used to hunt and kill, made deals with them, called them minions but never friends. He used them and discarded them when they had outlived their usefulness. This was Dean’s new reality, this was his Sam now, and there was nothing Dean could do about it but accept it.

Dean just hoped he’d come out of this with his sanity intact. He almost wished that Dad had let him die instead of making the deal with the demon. Then dad would have been around to stop Sam and he wouldn’t have been around to see it. At least there was peace in death, or so that reaper chick had tried to tell him.

Sam quickly slid the steel and leather cage down over Dean’s cock and padlocked it to both the cock and ball straps, locking it into place. "I would suggest you avoid getting aroused in that thing, it’ll hurt like a son of a bitch if you do," Sam warned matter-of-factly.

The inflatable butt plug was next. Sam lubed it up and slid it in and once it was seated correctly in Dean’s ass began to inflate it slowly.

Dean groaned, bucked and uselessly tried to get away from the unrelenting pressure. The damned thing was getting bigger and bigger, making him feel over full to the point that it was almost painful. Worse still, it was constantly pressing down on his prostate making his cock twitch in response.

Then Sam thumbed the switch that turned the vibrator on.

Dean let out a startled yell as his whole body arced off the bed. "Son of a mother fuck! Jesus, Sam, you tryin’ to give me a coronary?" Dean’s cock began to fill with the stimulation but the chastity device bit into his flesh painfully until his burgeoning erection subsided once more. Goddamn rat bastard, Sam would pay for this, Dean didn’t know where or when but there would be retribution in some form, no matter how minute. It was the principal of it.

"No, I’m trying to teach you restraint, Dean," Sam retorted irritably. If it hadn’t been for that faith healer and then Dad making a deal with a devil Dean would have been dead long before Sam had had the guts to finally claim what was meant to be his, both his destiny and his brother. The last thing he needed was a reminder at how close he’d come to losing Dean to death not once but twice. Perversely the reminder of how pathetic he used to be back then, how weak and scared and afraid to take the power that was meant to be his was just the fuel Sam needed to re-ignite his anger, this time at himself. However, Sam saw no reason not to put that anger to good use.

"Correct me if I’m wrong, brother mine," Sam purred menacingly, bending forward and clamping both nipples with the cloverleaf clamps, enjoying the way Dean shouted and bucked. "But I distinctly remember telling you to shut up." Watching Dean writhe on the bed was seriously hot and Sam felt himself harden almost immediately. There was something to be said for being the one to cause his brother pain, especially erotic pain.

Needing to distract himself from his own libido, Sam quickly rose and returned to his toys. He picked out two more things, a ball gag and a set of industrial strength ear muffs meant to block almost all sound. "If you can’t remember such a basic request I think I’ll need to help you with your memory." Striding back over to the bed Sam used the fact that Dean couldn’t see what he was doing to his advantage. Reaching down he tugged on the chain that was attached to the clover clamps causing them to tighten down even more. Dean’s back arched a second time and another yelp was torn from his throat.

As he cried out Sam swiftly shoved the ball gag into his brother’s open mouth and buckled the straps before Dean could think to spit it out. Next he covered Dean’s ears thereby cutting off all external stimulation and leaving Dean isolated and trapped within his body. Maybe a little sensory deprivation would help encourage Dean to learn to think before speaking as well as to actually listen to what Sam said.

Running his hands along his brother’s sweaty torso Sam picked up the remote control for the vibrator and retreated to one of the lounge chairs on the balcony. It was a gorgeous sunny day and he saw no reason why he shouldn’t enjoy it while keeping an eye on Dean for signs of distress.

Sam figured an hour, maybe two with him varying the speeds from time to time and he’d release Dean from some of the devices. By that time Dean would be desperate for release and willing to do almost anything to get it. Sam would have to see just how much of an attitude adjustment his brother had undergone before he let that happen, but it didn’t mean that Sam couldn’t enjoy Dean’s ass regardless.

Palming his straining erection Sam resisted the urge to take out his cock and jack off while watching Dean squirm on the bed in an attempt to find an escape. No, unlike Dean he’d learned patience a very long time ago. He could wait. Picking up his laptop Sam powered it up, deciding to check his email and then do a little research into the proper training of submissives and slaves. Dean would never be either of those things but there was a wealth of information to be had on the Internet that would only benefit them both in the end.

Unsure as to how long he’d been like this, Dean tried to push the jelly like ball out of his mouth using his tongue yet again but the fucking thing was fastened tight. Son of a bitch. The vibrating plug in his ass was constantly sending spikes of pleasure to his dick. It feebly attempted time and again to ‘rise’ up in response only to be cowed into submission once more by the damned torture device wrapped around his cock.

It was humiliating. He was trussed up like a god damned Christmas turkey and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. Sam had really gone too far this time. All that talk of training and obedience bullshit... there was no way in hell Dean was going to...

As if Sam was aware of Dean’s thoughts, the plug in his ass suddenly sped up causing his cock to leap to attention. The gates of hell dug hard into his flesh as his whole body bowed upwards and he screamed around the gag in his mouth. Christ, that thing around his cock was going to draw blood at this rate. Suddenly the earmuffs were gone and Sam was crouched down low beside him, a hand stroking down his chest in an attempt to soothe and quiet him. As if.

"The more you struggle against this, the longer it will take, Dean. You think I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours? You’ve been everything to me from the time I was six months old; father, brother, best friend, protector and lover. I made an art out of studying you when you didn’t think I was looking. There isn’t one thing that I don’t know or can’t figure out about you."

"For instance, right now I know that you’re fighting me tooth and nail. It’s a waste of time; you won’t win. I can’t let you because if you do then we both die: simple as that. So for your sake and mine, stop resisting me and just accept," Sam murmured, bending to press a kiss against the distended corner of Dean’s mouth and tugging on the clamp chain causing them to tighten painfully on Dean’s nipples once again, adding to his brother’s agony.

"I love you, you’re mine. Accept the reality of the situation. You won’t regret it, I promise you." With that Sam put the earmuffs back on him and was gone, leaving Dean in isolation once more.

And just like that the almost painful vibrations slowed to a manageable level again. Dean collapsed back into the mattress and tried to blink away the tears forming behind his blindfold.

How could he have forgotten the cruelty that lived just below the boy-next-door charm that Sam presented to the world? He’d seen it in action far too many times of late, had been manipulated by that charm and his own twisted emotions for his brother into killing Jo simply because Sam had asked, or had he ordered him to do so? Dean couldn’t remember any more. All he knew was that the need, want and love he felt for his brother had become this perverse mockery of what he once felt for Sam and it was just as binding.

Trapped as he was inside his body, no sight or sound to distract him all Dean could do was think and react as Sam continued to alter the speed of the butt plug and tug on the chain connecting the clamps on his nipples at odd intervals. Dean never knew when to expect it and was constantly on edge, waiting for the pain level to change yet again. His world narrowed down to the sensations flooding his body, and the single thought that had it not been for the cage around his cock he’d have come a few times by now.

It humiliated him to admit to himself that the pain was causing him pleasure, as had all those times Sam had cut him with symbols and sigils, leaving raised and faintly scarred flesh behind as permanent evidence of Sam’s devotion. In the long months since Sam had turned, he’d pull out his cutting knife at odd times, whenever desire or something else set him off and Sam would smile silkily at Dean and tell him to strip.

His body was now a canvas of Sam’s work. The most recent addition, located just above his right hipbone, was still an angry red but healed over. Dean recognized some of the marks as protective; some were possessive and others still meant nothing to Dean but they held some major power, of that he was positive. Dean could feel it crawling under his skin, infecting his flesh and binding him that much closer to Sam.

It had gotten to the point where Dean was conditioned so that he got hard whenever Sam brought out the cutting knife. It was debasing to realize he was slowly becoming a masochist at the hands of his somewhat sadistic brother and was learning to get off on the pain that Sam inflicted on him. Like the pain he was inflicting on Dean now.

Soon time lost all meaning for Dean and he had no way of knowing if Sam had been tormenting him for a few minutes of a few days. He wasn’t even aware of his soaking wet hair, the thick layer of sweat covering his body or the fact that tears were constantly leaking out from underneath the blindfold. He’d long since stopped reacting violently to the change in sensations and could only respond with restless shifting and pathetic moans of discomfort that escaped from around the ball gag. He had long stopped feeling the low level buzz of the vibrator now as his whole body constantly quivered in time with the vibrations imbedding themselves inside his trapped body.

Every once in a while he’d feel Sam’s hands on him, sometimes to soothe and comfort him, sometimes to inflict more pain and sometimes to remove the gag long enough to trickle water into his parched mouth. The blindfold and the earmuffs never came off, though. Dean was kept trapped inside himself, with Sam’s touches being the only external stimuli he was permitted.

Dean began to crave the kind touches and shy from the ones that brought him agony. The rational part of his mind knew that this was what Sam wanted, this was how he was being trained but he was so exhausted he couldn’t really resist at the moment. Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean simply gave in and shut down.

Gradually Dean became aware that he was no longer tied up and that everything Sam had put on or in him was gone even the collar around his throat. What’s more he was in Sam’s arms, half sprawled over his brother and Sam was rocking him back and forth, crooning wordlessly and stroking Dean’s hair almost too lightly to feel.

"No, please," Dean’s voice came out whispery and dry as it cracked hard. Sam immediately pressed a bottle of water to his lips and trickled some of the much-needed liquid into his mouth. "Please, no more, Sam. No more," he begged weakly.

"Shh, just rest Dean, close your eyes and relax. I won’t do that to you again any time soon, okay?" Sam promised, petting his brother some more as he pressed his lips to Dean’s forehead in a tender kiss. "Close your eyes and rest for a while. I’ve got you."

Dean whimpered and buried his face into Sam’s stomach and curled in on himself a little more. He was wrung out, physically and mentally. It was all too much to take in and he let himself fall back into oblivion, mind shutting down and body following close behind into an unquiet sleep.

Sam was torn. The tiny but vocal part of his personality that was still Dean’s ‘Sammy’ wanted nothing more than put an end to this right now, to take care of Dean and pray this was enough as did the part that couldn’t stand to see Dean so... bruised around the edges like he was right now. Unfortunately, his more practical and more dominant side knew he had to break Dean of certain habits right now before they caused trouble for the both of them.

No, Dean needed this. It was for his own good and Sam wouldn’t shirk his duty. Dean was his to protect and love. If that meant he needed lessons in proper behavior then so be it. Dean would thank him for it in the end and they would both be better off for it.

Shifting Dean onto the bed Sam slid out from under his brother and left him passed out on the bed. Walking over to the console table Sam quickly picked out a new set of toys. It would be easier to do this while Dean was unconscious but his brother did need to rest for a while. Walking over to his bag he took out a bottle of chloroform and a cloth.

Putting a few drops of the ether on the cloth he held it over Dean’s mouth and nose for a few seconds in order to deepen Dean’s sleep and give Sam a little more time to plan out what he would do and to get them both ready for what was to come next.

For the second time that day Dean woke up unsure of where he was and what was going on. He was hard and his nipples hurt like a son of a bitch, not to mention that his jaw ached like he’d been sucking on Sam’s cock non-stop thanks to that damned ball gag. At least he could see and hear and speak... although he sure as hell wasn’t going to do that until he’d further assessed his situation and did a damage evaluation. Sam might have been the college boy but Dean, despite what others might think, had never been lacking in the brains department either. He just preferred being street smart to book smart. It was something he was grateful for right now.

This time he found himself kneeling on what looked like those thick gym mats they used to plaster the gym floors with during the gymnastics section of P.E. His wrists were locked into a strange metal contraption on the outside of his ankles, also encased in metal. His aching cock bobbed between his outspread legs leaving a thin tracery of pre-come on the vinyl underneath him. Around it he could see a thin steel band that was attached to a leather strap wrapped around his balls and what looked like a tiny padlock at the base of it. It was a fucking cock and ball ring which would keep him hard until Sam let him loose. Fuck.

Sam had obviously decided to change the program and remaining soft was out; being hard and unable to come was apparently the new method of torture. The damned nipple clamps were still in place and Dean could finally see the chain that had rested on his chest connecting them together. The cool slide of lubricated fingers in his exposed anus drew his attention back further and he focused on Sam’s legs in between his spread wide body. Dean wasn’t able to stifle the groan that escaped from deep in his chest as Sam’s fingers crooked up and raked over his prostate.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to admit you were awake," Sam chuckled, bending forward and covering Dean’s back with his chest, pressing him further down into a submissive position. Nipping at the base of his neck, Sam traced a wet line along Dean’s spine until he was no longer able to bend anymore and then he straightened up behind his brother again. "Ready for round two?"

Dean closed his eyes and bowed his head, touching his forehead to the mat as his stomach dropped out. His little brother was really gone and this new Sam was here to stay. Some small kernel of hope he’d been harboring that this was just a phase Sam was going through dimmed almost completely. He’d lost Sammy, quite possibly forever.

"Dean? I asked you a question," Sam reminded him, delivering a sharp slap to his brother’s ass as a reminder. "It’s generally considered polite to answer when someone is speaking to you."

"How was I supposed to know you wanted me to answer?" Dean grated out. "Last time I talked you fucking gagged me." Sam reached around and under his chest and yanked hard on the chain. Dean couldn’t stop the cry of pain that slipped from his lips. "Jesus, are you trying to rip them off?"

"Dean, the whole point of this is about learning to think before you act. Part of that is learning to think before you open your mouth. Do you really want to piss me off again given your current position? You’d think that it might have clicked by now that shooting your mouth off tends to get you into trouble more often than not. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to bail you out from jail or a fight or a hunt because you’ve gone and pissed someone or something off. I’ve been after you for years to tone it down. You always ignored me before. Now... now you’d better start listening or you’re not going to like what happens when you ignore me," Sam answered, tugging harder on the chain.

"You know what, I think you’re going to wear these until you curb that tongue of yours. Apparently having your nipples ‘ripped off’, as you put it, makes you pay attention. Now, I’ll ask you again. Are you ready for round two?"

Dean bit down hard on his lower lip and felt that final spark of hope die. Game over. His dorky baby brother wasn’t coming back and he was left with this dark side version instead. He shouldn’t have stopped for the night, he should have kept running, the farther the better. Or he could have found a quick and messy hunt to end it fast. But he didn’t and now he was trapped, no way out. Dean wasn’t sure he could cope, wasn’t sure he wanted to. Another sharp tug on the chain was joined by Sam’s fingers stabbing hard into his ass reminded him to answer. "No! I’m not ready for any of this, let alone round two. I.... I want my brother back," Dean finally managed to choke out. If Sam wanted the truth he’d damn well give it to him.

"I’m right here, Dean. I never left. I simply accepted the truth instead of fighting it any more. I like who I am now. I love what we are and I can’t wait to see what our future holds. Things are finally the way they were meant to be and you need to let go of the past, of the bullshit people filled your head with. It’ll make things easier for you if you do," Sam replied almost gently, fingers releasing the chain and letting it go slack.

"Why is so hard to accept that maybe I want to be this way? How many times did you accuse me of being soft, too emotional, too much of a sucker? I don’t get you Dean, I’ve finally done what you asked, I’ve stopped letting people and the demon push me around. I’ve stopped being everyone’s bitch. I thought you’d be happy, but no, leave it to you to be contrary," Sam sighed, adding a third finger to Dean’s ass.

"You may not be everyone’s bitch anymore but you’ve made sure that I’m yours, haven’t you?" Dean muttered raggedly.

Heat curled hard in Sam’s stomach at his brother’s unwilling confession. It was a hot, dirty feeling of ownership and he had to admit to himself that he loved how hearing Dean say those words made him feel. Dean was his bitch. He owned Dean. Dean was his to love and use and abuse as he saw fit. His fingers thrust a bit harder, raking over Dean’s prostate, and he felt another tug of excitement at his brother’s stifled groan. Oh yeah, he really liked his new outlook on life and he was thoroughly enjoying all the perks that came with the attitude.

But he couldn’t allow Dean’s misperception to continue, no matter how arousing it was, no matter how much it bordered on reality. No, a bitch was well and good and had their place but Dean was destined to be so much more than that. "No Dean, I made you my lover. There is a difference. If I’d wanted a bitch I would have broken you completely, turned you into some mindless fuck toy. It wouldn’t have taken much to do that either, not these days, not since I stopped fighting against my abilities and let them come out.

"Hell, if that was all you were to me, if that was all I wanted from you, I would have let you keep fucking those whores you liked to pick up. I just would have made you do it in front of me, and then I’d fuck you in front of them just to show them how it’s done and who you really belong to," Sam replied with brutal honesty. "But I don’t want a bitch or a toy. I want you, Dean, sarcasm, attitude and all. There’s no one else I want by my side, watching my back, no one else I trust to just be me around and not this personae I’m having to become for the sake of... advancement. I want you standing beside me not kneeling at my feet, lover. I just need for you to learn to curb your natural... enthusiasm... for certain things when we’re not alone like this. We’re being watched all the time, Dean. I’m being watched all the time and these people don’t give second chances."

"Jesus fuck, what people, Sam? Other hunters? I thought you didn’t give a flying fuck about them. You don’t tell me jack! You don’t talk to me any more, you just fucking order me around, fuck me whenever you feel like it and do shit like this!" Dean exploded, tugging his arms so hard that he tore strips of flesh from his shackled wrists and ankles. "The only time I feel like I have a voice and an opinion is when we’re hunting and even then if a hunt goes squirrelly you go ballistic. I used to be able to do what I wanted when I wanted. I could think and feel and be who I wanted to be. I could choose the hunt, put together a con or a hustle, pick up tail when I wanted to and got to have an actual set of balls. Now all I do is obey and spread my legs for you when you get an itch you want to scratch. Tell me how my life even remotely resembles what it was before you... "

"Went dark side?" Sam offered, pushing on Dean’s shoulders in order to get him to ease up on the damage he was causing to himself. He didn’t like seeing Dean this agitated or hurting himself without care and he couldn’t help but wince at his brother’s diatribe. Had he really been so harsh or was it just Dean chafing at his perceived loss of freedom?

Maybe Sam had been too sheltering, too controlling of the day-to-day of their lives, maybe he had treated Dean as more of a pet than an equal. The trouble was Sam was conflicted. He had all these new, darker, thoughts and wants. One minute he wanted to be tender and gentle, the sort of lover he’d been with Jessica, the next minute he wanted to bite into flesh and muscle, leave behind his mark of ownership and feel Dean’s heart race underneath his hands.

Sam was still learning to balance those two very divergent instincts and he tended to overcompensate by being more controlling than he needed to be. He’d come almost too close to breaking his brother without even realizing it, if the slight edge of enraged hysteria and Dean’s panicked flight was anything go by. Maybe his first instincts had been correct in that he should have included Dean from the beginning instead of trying to protect him.

"You’re right," he finally admitted out loud. "I haven’t talked to you enough about what’s going on now. It’s one of the things I need to change. But not right now. I’ve been hard for you since your first shudder as I put that butt plug in your ass and began to pump it up. I’m going to fuck you now, hard and deep and you’ve got no option but to kneel there and take everything I give you," Sam purred, licking another stripe along Dean’s spine.

"Fuck, you’re so open for me, Dean, so stretched and available. But still so tight, despite it all. You can just take three of my fingers. Your ass feels like a vice when I try and squeeze four in there. We’re going to have to work on that later. I adore your ass when it’s this tight but there are things I want to try that need you to be looser, so yeah, we definitely need to work on opening you up some more," he continued.

Dean shivered as Sam’s voice lowered, became a dark rasp of sound that was almost a tangible caress. His brother’s words sent a frisson of disquiet through him. Dean may have been more of a tits and pussy man than not before Sam steamrolled over and into him but he was no stranger to sex in all its myriad of forms. Stretching usually meant that something bigger than a cock was being inserted, and since Sam wasn’t about to share him, Dean was pretty sure that double-dicking was out, which didn’t leave a lot of choices and all of them were seriously scary.

"Trust me, babe, you’ll love it," Sam promised, delighted at the way Dean, his strong, cocky, overly confident heroic brother, trembled under his hands. Yeah, he could definitely get used to having this sort of power over the older man; and Dean looked so damned pretty, so desperate and hungry for his cock, how could Sam deny him?

"Somehow I doubt that, Sam," Dean muttered. His idea of pleasure and Sam’s seemed to be going separate ways although Sam was intent on converting him. Unfortunately with enough repetition Dean’s body had already learned to associate pain with pleasure so who knew what else Sam would be intent on teaching him?

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Sam admonished with a soft chuckle, "you know as well as I do that you don’t mean that. You’re a slut, lover, have been since you first discovered sex. You once told me you’d try anything and everything at least once. Could it be that you’re getting vanilla in your old age?"

"Hey!"

Sam grinned and brought his hand down hard on his brother’s firm ass, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot, just because he wanted to. Sam had to admit he liked seeing Dean with rosy cheeks and Dean was hard, wet and dripping. "See, I knew you’d want to play with me."

"Like I’d have a choice," Dean grumbled, more pissed at having his ass warmed than anything else.

"God, do you have to be such a mouthy bitch?" Sam sighed, lubing up his cock up with a few quick strokes of his hand. "I’m almost regretting taking that gag out now." Not waiting for Dean to come up with another smart ass remark Sam aligned himself and slammed into Dean without warning. "Fuck, yes, so damned tight!" he groaned.

"Jesus, SAM!" Dean yelled, his already abused ass protesting at the harsh invasion. Biting down hard enough to taste blood Dean rode out the pain and could feel it morph into the same sort of prurient pleasure he’d come to associate with rough sex and Sam. Heat slowly spread as Sam slid out and slammed back into him. His cock, which has softened at the first in stroke, started to harden and take interest once more.

Sam reached underneath Dean and began to fist his brother’s trapped cock forcefully, loving the groans of tormented pleasure, the harshly whispered pleas that flew from Dean’s mouth. They made no sense just ‘please’, ‘god’ ‘Sam’, and ‘need’, but the words fell so beautifully from Dean’s lips they just made Sam that much harder, made it that much easier to want to break him.

Dean’s eyes slid open to look down his torture body helplessly. With the cock and ball ring preventing him from coming he was painfully hard, his cock a dark angry purple as it slid in and out of Sam’s fist, his constantly dripping pre come the only lubricant needed. "Sam, please! "

"Going to fuck you wide open, big brother, and you’ve got no choice but to just kneel there and take it for as long and as hard as I can make it and I’m going to fill you up with my come and only then will I let you loose, take off the ring and let you come. Only when I say so, Dean," Sam murmured as he created a necklace of love bites across the back of Dean’s neck and shoulders.

Letting go of Dean’s cock he slid his hand further along his brother’s chest and caught and pulled on the nipple clamp chain, making Dean howl and tighten around Sam’s cock without even realizing it. "Hell yes! Just like that. Fuck," Sam panted and he began to slam into Dean harder than ever, taking the gratification he wanted without any thought but his own pleasure, his own need.

Dean was caught between the almost debilitating pain of not being able to come and the overwhelming pleasure of having his prostate stimulated with each and every one of Sam’s thrusts thanks to the position the spreader bar had forced him into. All he could do was thrash his head and moan. He couldn’t move, couldn’t touch, all he could do was take the pounding Sam was giving him. Dean was nothing more than a receptacle for Sam’s lust at the moment and the thought was so dirty and insidious that he felt his cock jerk impossibly higher, it’s head slapping against his stomach in constant time to each of Sam’s inward thrusts.

Dean wanted to curse, to demand, to rail at Sam and order his brother to let him come but Dean knew it would be of no use. Sam was running the show from now on and no matter how much freedom he might let Dean think he had, that was the reality of Dean’s new life. Swallowing hard to fight back the lump that was suddenly crowding his throat Dean let his shoulders sag to the mat in surrender. He was Sam’s. He was Sam’s to do with as Sam pleased, be it an act of kindness, cruelty, or even love as twisted as it had become.

The sob was almost inaudible, the hitch of breath, the fine tremble of shoulder but Sam heard nonetheless and that glorious dark part of him crowed for joy. The last wall had fallen, Dean had given up, given in, had surrendered. Dean was truly his.

"Shhh, it’s okay, lover, I’ll take care of you, I promised, didn’t I?" Sam soothed, his thrusts slowing, becoming loving instead of lustful. Reaching out with a thin tendril of the power he’d mastered Sam snapped the lock that held the ring in place and gently eased the device off of Dean’s tortured cock. With another wisp he repeated the process with the spreader bar and then Dean was free. His ankles were bruised and his wrists caked with blood where he’d gouged himself earlier, struggling uselessly like a butterfly pinned to a card with no hope of escape. A pretty pet, leashed and chained for its owner’s enjoyment.

But Dean wasn’t a pet, he was a partner which meant that Sam needed to start repairing the cracks he’d made with his heavy handedness, not just now but in the months leading up to now, from the first moment he’d claimed Dean as his after undergoing his own transformation and had become the darkling creature he was now.

And finally Sam understood the difference between those that were truly evil, like the yellow eyed bastard that had changed him, and himself. He didn’t want to destroy, burn, desecrate, demolish or break... he wanted to he wanted to control, perhaps cow, and build an empire, one where his rules applied, where he was free to claim Dean as his without all the garbage and baggage that had been enforced on them by other people.

Dean had been his salvation after all... he could have become as malevolent and as warped as the fallen children, the weak ones, the chosen ones, the children of the demon. Instead he’d had Dean, had loved and needed Dean and Dean had saved him. Instead of evil incarnate he was deadly sin, instead of hate he was temptation, instead of death and destruction he was vice and licentiousness. Sam could live with that, would live with that... and with Dean by his side.

Stretching them both out on the mat, Sam cradled Dean to him like the infinitely precious thing he was. "Dean, listen to me, please, listen. You did save me, Dean. You did. I could have been like Meg, like Ava and Max and the others. I could have become that evil, that twisted but instead... you made me different. You saved me, and now I’m going to save you, I swear it."

"Sammy?" Dean whispered brokenly and it was only in that moment that Sam realized that the last time he’d heard that nickname had been the night he’d died and had been reborn. The night when all this had begun.

"I’m right here, Dean, I got you. I got you." Hips that had stilled under revelation slowly began to move again, this time with the desire to ensnare instead of enslave. Oh Sam knew he had a lot to mend but he also knew that Dean would deny him nothing, especially not a second chance. This time he’d be more careful, this time he’d do it right.

"I love you, and I’m yours as much as you’re mine," he whispered as he took Dean in hand and began to stroke him in time with his thrusts. Dean was so over stimulated that it took barely a single stroke. His head was thrown back against Sam’s shoulder, his throat exposed in a soundless cry as Sam milked his release from him. Dean’s body contracted hard around Sam and forced his own orgasm sooner than Sam had wanted. He chuckled softly. Dean still managed to get the upper hand, even in the end.

Three days later after many hours of conversation, fucking and experimenting with Sam’s toy collection Sam watched as Dean slid into the driver’s seat carefully, still unsure of his gait. Just that morning Sam had fucked him fast and dirty, taking great pleasure in making Dean come before he did because he had a little surprise for his brother. Once he’d filled Dean’s ass and had softened enough to slide out of it Sam quickly slid a butt plug in. It was larger than what Dean was used to, thicker than Sam and Sam had only managed to get it into Dean’s ass because he was so fucked out.

"What the fuck, Sammy?" Dean grumbled quietly, casting a look back over his shoulder. The hesitance was still there... he still wasn’t sure if he should speak or stay silent, if he could believe what Sam had said, had promised but he was slowly rediscovering his faith in his brother, even if it was laced with a healthy dose of caution.

Sam’s grin had been pure, unadulterated evil as he’d patted Dean’s flank lovingly. "Told you before, I have plans for this ass. Big plans. You’re going to love it, just wait and see. Now get dressed. We’ve got places to be and things to kill."

Dean wanted to argue, wanted to ask but there was that look in Sam’s eyes, the one that sometimes faded into the background but never quite went away. His brother might not be Satan’s love child but he wasn’t one of the white hats either and never would be again. Dean was slowly learning to walk the tightrope of Sam’s moods and so he wisely kept his mouth shut and did as he was told. Sam wanted to hit the road and so that’s what they would do.

But why did he have to be the one to drive given he had a fucking log wedged up his ass?

"Because I told you to, Dean," Sam answered smugly reading his brother’s thoughts easily as he leaned forward to capture the chain that dangled under Dean’s shirt and tugged it hard, causing the clover leaf clamps to tighten impossibly on Dean’s nipples. "You know, I could be persuaded to stop at a piercing place and get them pierced for you. I think you’d look hot with nipple rings."

Dean whimpered, his head falling back to rest on the seat behind him. Pain, he was discovering, was addictive when administered the right way, and Sam sure knew how. He was already hard, throbbing, his ass clamping down hard on the plug. Not that he could do anything about it thanks to Sam’s other gift. A cockring made just for him. One that would keep him hard and needy until Sam removed it himself and let Dean come.

So maybe things weren’t so different after all. Sam was still in charge and Dean was still following Sam’s lead but at least this time he knew he had a voice and it had been heard. Only time would tell if the rest was true, if Dean could live and be happy with this new world he found himself living in.

Glancing over to his brother Sam looked so much like the same man who’d sat next to him just last year, face open and happy, a huge smile painting his lips. Sometimes it was hard to believe the changes a year had brought, and other times.... Sam’s eyes darkened, hardened slightly. "Best get the car in gear, Dean. I’ve got some unfinished business to take care of back in Presque Isle."

"Sam?"

Something almost sinister moved through Sam’s eyes and Dean fought the now instinctive urge to flinch. This was the new Sam, back in force, not the almost Sammy he’d had for the past three days.

"You think Jo appeared by accident, Dean? You think it was just your mind playing tricks? Guess again. Someone’s trying to fuck with me and I intend to find out who."

End~

Ooo-oooh my plan didn’t work out like I thought
I had laid my trap for you
But it seems that I got caught

What’s this whole world coming to
Things just ain’t the same
Anytime the hunter gets captured by the game

~Blondie~

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