Author's Note: So this is the last chapter, thanks to everyone who read and especially to those who reviewed!!

Dean woke with a gasp, in a blind panic, still hearing the man's words, breathed into his ear as his head was yanked backwards by the hand in his hair.

"I know you want it, baby…"

Dean had wanted so much to tell the man to fuck off then and as the older hunter lay there, panting in the dark, he still did. Dean thought now that he should have killed that son of a bitch, but at the time, all he could think about was getting far, far away.

The elder hunter rolled over onto his side to face his brother as he tried to quell his rising panic and control his panting breath.

Fortunately, his nightly terrors had not woken Sam. Dean stared across the empty expanse between the beds at his brother's sleeping form. He wanted so much to cross that space, to go to Sam, to curl against that gigantic form.

But he couldn't. Dean couldn't ask for help, not from his baby brother. He couldn't admit that every time he closed his eyes he felt again that overwhelming sense of powerlessness, that every time he looked in the mirror he felt violated and disgusting, that he was momentarily afraid every time someone, even Sam, got too close.

How could he put that kind of responsibility on Sam? No, better they just make a clean break so his brother had the chance of falling for someone else. It wasn't like what they had was forever anyway, Sam still had a chance for 'normal' and it was only a matter of time before the younger man took off to find it. And once Dean knew Sam was safe and happy, then he could let go…

They were on another hunt, a spirit this time, just a regular salt n' burn in another nameless town in the Midwest, Iowa maybe. It really didn't make any difference to Dean at this point. Dean only wanted to save as many people as possible before he bought it.

An unmarked grave in the middle of the woods, they had wandered for an hour just trying to find it. Dean had dug the grave entirely by himself, hoping to tire himself out enough so that his sleep that night would be dreamless.

It never would have happened before, before…Dean never would have been so careless, so reckless. But this time it wasn't just Dean that got hurt.

He was supposed to be distracting the thing so that Sam could set its bones aflame. Dean threw himself at the spirit, not caring when it threw him against a tree trunk, driving a broken limb an inch into his back above his right shoulder blade. Almost welcoming the pain, the pain that he felt he deserved for hurting Sammy.

But in that moment he knew, knew, that he had made a mistake. Sam was having a problem getting the match to burn and Dean had left his brother wide open to attack with his stupid, foolish action.

The ghost, a man in his late forties with a perpetual snarl on his face, headed directly for Sam, throwing the gigantic form away from the gravesite effortlessly.

Dean screamed, as much as he hated to admit it, there was no other word for the sound that was torn from his throat. The elder hunter scrambled up, all business now and cold deadly intent as he strode over to the waiting hole in the ground.

He contained the urge to simply run to his brother's side, knowing that that wouldn't save Sam. Pulling out his own Zippo lighter, he threw it onto the bones, only pausing long enough to make sure they caught.

Sam was lying unmoving on the uneven ground. He must have hit his head, but Dean didn't think about what, or why, or how. All he could think about was that Sam was hurt, perhaps seriously and that it was all Dean's fault.

Dropping to his knees, he gathered the limp form in his arms, not an easy task. Dean patted his brother's cheek, wanting to beg anything that was listening for Sam to be ok. He would leave, he would go far away and never bother Sam again if his brother would just wake up.

Sam opened his eyes to a splitting headache and the even more painful sight of his brother above him looking absolutely wrecked, looking like he had that awful day in the motel room when everything had changed for them.

His brother wasn't crying but his pouty lips were trembling and Dean's voice was a choked sob as he spoke. Sam didn't need to hear the words to know what his brother was feeling.

"Sa-am, I'm so-oh sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Sam struggled to sit up, the pain behind his eyes increasing momentarily as he did so.

"Dean, I'm ok, I'm fine…"

The elder hunter looked unconvinced and Dean ran his hand through Sam's shaggy hair and over his face before being satisfied that his brother was in fact telling the truth.

Dean let out a shaky breath. The mask had shattered and Sam could see Dean's emotions written across his face. Dean looked at Sam with such concern and fierce love beneath a staggering amount of pain.

Sam took the opportunity to slide his hand to the back of his brother's neck, gripping it hard with his own need to protect his surprisingly fragile brother, lover, as he brought their foreheads together.

They sat there together, breathing the same air, each feeling the same love, the same fear, and the same need, that possessive need to protect one another that they had each inherited from their father.

And then Dean was pulling away to stand up, keeping his eyes averted from his brother's face even as he offered a hand to help Sam up.

"Come on, let's get you back to the room."

The walk back to the car was silent, Sam's steps were sure but Dean hovered just at his shoulder anyway, close but not touching. Sam was thinking of something to say, not wanting to let his brother's moment of openness slip away, but utterly unable to think of what to say that wouldn't cause his brother to shut down again.

And anyway it seemed as if Dean was thinking hard, working himself up to say something. It didn't happen til they made it back to the hotel room though.

Dean entered first, holding the door open for Sam to walk through and locking it behind them. Sam dropped wearily onto his bed against the far wall, looking up as his brother began to speak.

Dean stood by the foot of his bed near the door, his hands moving restlessly on his duffel.

"I'm sorry, Sam…for everything." And Sam knew without being told that Dean really was apologizing for everything, for their mother's death and their father's indifference, the reality of their childhood, for Dean's inability to forever spare his brother the horror of really knowing what was in the darkness, as well as for being raped, for getting Sam hurt, and even for letting anything sexual happen between the two brothers in the first place.

And Sam couldn't think of a damn thing to say back despite his brain working overtime in a desperate need to take some of the unbearable weight from his brother's shoulders. Dean just kept speaking.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't hurt you…anymore Sammy and that's all I'm doing. I was so selfish to want you to come back," Dean says and Sam can feel the self-loathing in those words. "I'll take you to the bus station in the morning and you can go wherever you want, go back to Stanford, find love, be 'normal'."

His brother must have seen the abject panic on Sam's face because he quickly added, "Don't worry. I'll find the demon, or dad will…I won't let it get away."

Sam couldn't be still anymore, he shot across the room, enveloping the smaller man in a strong hug, maybe too strong if the choked wheeze that his actions elicited was a clue.

"Sammy, don't…I know it'll be hard to start over without…without Jess, but it's for the best. You'll be fine."

Sam buried his face in Dean's neck, letting his own tears flow unhindered over his cheeks. Dean was using his 'big brother' voice, the one that said that everything was going to be ok because Dean was going to take care of everything. And Dean was using that voice because as usual, Sam's big brother was completely focused on taking care of everyone else.

And it hurt, it hurt because Sam knew, knew, that Dean was hurting and afraid, afraid of being alone, of being left behind.

Sam pulled back, wanting to look into his brother's green eyes and tell him that this time Sam was going to take care of Dean. He was distracted though when his hands came away wet from his brother's back. Looking down at them, Sam realized that it was blood, blood was covering his hands. Dean's blood.

Sam hadn't known his brother was injured or he wouldn't have been sitting around arguing like this. He opened his mouth to order Dean to let him help this time, when he was caught by Dean's panicked expression.

Dean grabbed hold of Sam's wrists forcefully, dragging the larger man into the bathroom and forcing his hands under the faucet to scrub them fiercely with the soap.

"You didn't have any cuts, did you Sam? Did you?!" Dean's voice had become more frantic, confusing Sam even more.

"I…I don't know."

Dean was beginning to calm down as the red washed down the sink, revealing Sam's hands to be without any cuts.

"Thank god, oh thank god," Dean murmured as he virtually collapsed onto the side of the tub.

"Dean, what…oh." It suddenly occurred to Sam what his brother would be so concerned about. HIV.

"Dean, have you been...? Were you…?"

"Yeah, I've been tested, Sam." Dean's voice just sounded exhausted now, his hand coming up to rub over his mouth. "They all came back negative but they say that in some people it can take up to six months to show up and you know with our luck…"

Sam nodded his head, trying to remember everything he had ever heard about HIV tests. It had been 32 days since Dean was…

"But in most people, it would show up in the first 28 days, right, so…"

Dean cut him off. "I'm not taking any chances with you, Sam."

Sam nodded, knowing that without being told. "Yeah but you won't be able to reach that puncture wound on your back and I have some gloves…"

Sam left the bathroom to go get the gloves. Dean sat there, resigned, too tired to argue and recognizing that stubborn glint in his brother's eyes. He also felt slightly nauseous about having had to talk to Sam about the tests, that he was such a whore that he couldn't touch his own brother without infecting Sam.

The younger hunter was equally affected. He re-entered the bathroom wearing a pair of thin latex gloves that he sometimes wore to prevent his fingerprints from being left at a crime scene during a hunt. Sam felt terrible at not being able to touch his brother skin to skin. He knew that it confirmed Dean's worst fears, that his brother wasn't worthy to be touched.

Dean turned around so that his feet were now inside the tub and removed another bloody t-shirt. Sam cleaned and stitched the puncture wound. It wasn't too deep but it did tear the muscle so it would be painful unless Dean took it easy until it healed. Not that his brother would ever do that.

With a sigh, Sam gently wiped away the blood that had flowed down his brother's back, soaking the waistband of his jeans.

"You should take these off and let them soak in some cold water, Dean."

The older hunter sighed, too, and stood stiffly, feeling as if he were a much older man. He unzipped and pushed his jeans down. They were followed by his boxers as Dean realized with a sigh of disgust that they were stiff with blood as well.

Dean was slightly startled as before he leaned down to remove the clothing from his feet, Sam was already there, on his knees, gently pulling the stiff fabric over his feet. It made the older hunter feel oddly contented, taken care of. It also made Dean feel suddenly afraid when he realized that he was standing in the bathroom naked. But again, Sam was there, handing him a towel to wrap around his waist.

Standing there, Dean felt completely at a loss for what to do. He had told Sam that he was leaving, had told him about the tests and his brother was acting as if nothing had happened. Sam was, in fact, being ridiculously helpful.

The elder man followed quietly when Sam led him away with a hand to the small of his back and another to his elbow. Sam knew that his brother was only being compliant because he was confused and too tired to be belligerent about it.

And the younger Winchester wasn't above using Dean's blood loss and sleepless nights against him. Sam thought that Dean needed to be taken care of for once, needed to be reassured that someone, that Sam loved him enough to be there for him in his weakest moment.

Sam led his brother over to his bed, handing him a pair of sweatpants. He turned away with the excuse of putting the first aid kit back in Dean's back so that the elder Winchester could drop the towel in semi-private.

When he turned back Dean had crawled under the covers, but was staring at Sam with wide defenseless eyes. The elder man was startled when Sam crawled in beside him but moved over to make room after only a moment's hesitation.

Dean felt only slightly uncomfortable when strong arms wrapped around him. His younger brother was cradling him as they lay in the bed together and it felt good. It felt so good that Dean allowed the embrace despite the inner voice that said that he was being weak. It was what he needed.

"Dean, I'm not going to leave and if you take me to the bus station, I'll just follow you. I love you and not just as my brother."

Wide, green eyes just kept staring at Sam, unbelieving. Sam knew that Dean had been hurt too much to believe just words. He would have to prove it.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Sam, no…" Dean's objection was just a soft whisper that sounded more like a plea.

"Dean, it's safe. For once neither of us has a split lip." Sam smiled then, trying to lighten the moment, but it seemed he wasn't nearly as good at it as his older brother was.

He leaned in, taking his brother's lush lips in a gentle exploring kiss. Caught in the moment, Sam made the mistake of shifting closer. Both men froze when the younger man's erection pressed into Dean's hip.

"Dean, I…" Sam felt ashamed and couldn't think of a single thing to say to explain himself. He just couldn't help the reaction he had to being so close to his brother.

"Sam, you…you still want me?" The insecurity in his brother's voice ate at Sam. Dean wasn't ever supposed to sound so unsure.

"I'll always want you and I'll prove it no matter how long it takes. Now c'mere, go to sleep and if you have a dream, I'll be right here."

They didn't have sex that night but they were lovers again. And this time it would be better, because this time Sam wouldn't be fooled by his brother's annoyingly cocky and shallow exterior. Sam knew now what that mask hid: a good, beautiful man who felt too much, who had developed a hard outer shell to protect a frighteningly fragile interior. Sam couldn't expect his brother to change overnight into some emo, touchy-feely girl, but there were cracks in the armor and Sam fully intended to keep chipping away at them.

So...tell me what you think? Want a sequel? A prequel? THanks again.