all of the love we threw away

all of the hopes we cherished fade

making the same mistakes again

making the same mistakes again

May 2010

Dean awakes and he's a little surprised he fell asleep at all. His eyes are still closed but he can feel Sam's hair tickling his nose and he can smell the fruity shampoo Sam insists on using despite all the shit Dean gives him for it. And if he's being honest, he loves it. He loves the smell. It's not a girly scent – although that's how Dean describes it when he's making fun of him – it's just...Sam.

Dean squints his eyes open and peers over Sam's shoulder to the window where the sky is peeking above the curtains. The sun isn't up, but the sky is that early morning glowy dark color, and he knows they probably only have a few hours left before they have to get up. His chest tightens and he feels nauseous and those fucking tears are back, filling his eyes and blurring his vision.

Sam's breathing is even, but he isn't asleep. Dean can always tell the difference. Sam used to fake sleep all the time when he was little but, Dean always knew.

Dean's holding Sam from behind and there's no way Sam fell asleep at all with the way Dean's squeezing him like he's a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. Dean sniffles and presses a kiss to the nape of Sam's neck before resting his forehead to the back of his head, again breathing in his brother's scent.

"Sun's gonna be up soon," Sam whispers, and Dean knows they're thinking the same thing. This is the last time Dean will ever hold his brother in his arms.

Dean shrugs a little. "We have a few more hours before Bobby busts down our door."

Dean used to love the silence. He used to love the way he and Sam could spend hours not saying anything and still be completely comfortable. Although right now, if he doesn't say something, anything, he's going to break apart in to a million pieces.

"You think Cas is just sitting there watching Bobby sleep?"

Sam giggles - fucking giggles - even though there is absolutely no reason to be laughing.

"Not if Bobby has anything to say about it. 'Sides, he's pretty much human, right? I'm sure he's asleep."

Dean nuzzles Sam's neck and kisses behind his ear and Sam reaches up to grasp the hand Dean has wrapped around his chest.

"Sammy?" Dean whispers into Sam's ear.

"Mmmm?"

"I want you to fuck me."

Dean can feel Sam shiver slightly before he turns around in Dean's arms and just blinks at him.

"What?" Dean asks. "It's not like we've never done that before."

"I know, but, you don't have -"

"I just...I need..."

Sam reaches up, grabs Dean's face and kisses him.

"I know, Dean. Okay. It's okay."

They don't do it like this very often, and now Dean's thinking with regret that maybe they should have. It's just that Sam is the only person Dean would ever be that vulnerable with and even then, he doesn't allow himself to be very often.

Sam presses Dean back into the mattress and kisses him for a few minutes, slowly, lazily, no rush to it at all. Every move Sam ever makes in his life is always thought out; deliberate, and sex is no different. Dean just lies back and allows Sam to take control because, for once, he wants to be taken care of. Not that he'll ever admit that out loud. But with Sam, he doesn't have to because Sam already knows what Dean needs. He always knows. At least when it comes to this.

Sam is lying half on Dean and half off, dropping small kisses to Dean's mouth, deepening them a little with every one, while Dean is grasping onto Sam's biceps, just clinging to his 'little' brother.

"So...how do you...wanna...um..."

If Dean wasn't so damn depressed, he'd laugh at his brother right now. Crowley calls his brother a moose, and he really is. He's this big, muscly brute, capable of taking down anything that comes up against him. Hell, in a few hours, he's going to be taking on Lucifer, the fucking devil, and yet here he is, being all shy and bashful and golly gee. The man is a walking contradiction, but Dean loves that about his little brother. He has such a huge heart, and even though they're in bed together, Dean can't help thinking that Sam got that trait from their mother. Because even with all the mistakes Sam's made the last few years, he always had the best of intentions. Everything he does, he does for the right reasons. His little brother is the best person Dean knows and later today, he's going to save the world. It's that thought that has Dean on the brink of yet another breakdown because he knows he'll never meet another person in his life that could ever compete with Sam; not for Dean's heart, because that's always belonged to Sam.

"Like this is fine, Sammy. I wanna see you."

Sam nods at Dean and then moves to completely cover Dean's body with his own. He swoops down and kisses Dean so deeply and firmly that Dean feels it all the way down to his toes. And Sam keeps kissing him, over and over, his tongue sliding slowly into Dean's mouth and fuck, Dean forgot how much he loves a take-control Sammy. Dean closes his eyes, lets everything else go and gets completely lost in the sensation of his brother all over him.

Sam's hands are everywhere, running through his hair, over his shoulders, and down his chest, while he ruts into Dean. The feeling of Sam's cock, huge and hard, rubbing against his own - even through two layers of cotton boxers - is so incredible, Dean thinks they should get the show on the road soon or he's going to come in his shorts and that's definitely not the plan here.

But then Sam pulls away and starts to move down Dean's body, sliding down out of Dean's reach and Dean grabs Sam's arm. "No, no, no, no."

Sam stops from where he's kissing Dean's stomach and looks up. "Dean, I'm just getting our boxers -"

"Come back up here, Sammy." Dean insists, tugging on Sam's arm. Sam flashes Dean a look of confusion, but he moves back up, looking Dean in the eyes.

"M'right here, Dean. S'okay." They both know Dean is panicking, but it doesn't matter. He lifts his hips, reaching down to remove his own boxers and Sam does the same. Then Sam adjusts himself to blanket Dean's body with his own, lining them up like two puzzle pieces that were made to fit together.

Sam goes back to kissing Dean all over - his mouth, chin, and neck while his hand is slowly sliding lower to wrap around Dean's cock and giving it a few strong pulls. He reaches lower, down past Dean's balls to rub gently at his hole. Dean's shaking and he really appreciates that Sam doesn't mention it because it's not about the sex. It's about the fact that this is the last time they will ever be together. This is the end for them; their final goodbye, and Dean is overcome with emotions that he has no ability to bury. Not this time.

Sam scans his eyes over Dean's face and Dean knows Sam can see the tears in his eyes. He places a soft, chaste kiss to Dean's mouth before reaching over to grab the lube off the bedside table. Bringing his hand back down after drizzling the lube over his fingers, Sam rubs over Dean's hole a few more times before slowing pushing a finger in.

Dean grunts a little and Sam looks at him with concern. "This okay?"

Dean's lips pressed tight and his brow furrowed, he just nods in response before adding, "M'good. More."

So Sam pulls his finger out only to push it back in with another one, stretching and twisting, opening Dean up slowly. Normally Dean would tell Sam to get the hell on with it, but he really wants this to last so he's says nothing, just pushes his head back into the pillow, his eyes locked on Sam's.

Sam soon adds another finger and then another, working up a slow, steady rhythm, pumping four fingers in and out of his brother. It feels so damn good, Sam and his huge gentle hands, and Dean feels like he could stay like this for hours. But then he remembers that in a few hours they'll be in the car, headed straight for Hell, and he slams his eyes shut, trying to block out those thoughts, at least for now. Suddenly he feels Sam's lips on his own and Sam murmurs into his mouth, "You ready?"

Dean can't trust his own voice right now, so he merely nods, and Sam nods in return. Sam pulls his hand out, and God, Dean hates that empty feeling, but he knows it's not over yet. Dean lets his legs drop open even more as Sam reaches down to slick himself up before positioning his cock to nudge up against Dean's entrance. Sam gently maneuvers Dean's legs up against his own chest and pushes forward slowly, sliding inch by inch into Dean and then frames Dean's face with his hand, kissing him and swallowing down Dean's moans. When he's all the way inside, Sam holds himself there, giving Dean time to adjust. It hurts a little, but Dean couldn't care less about that. Any kind of pain, great or small, pales in comparison to the pain in his heart. And even though they don't do it this way very often, Dean loves the full feeling of Sam inside him, stretching him, connecting them together the way they were always meant to be.

"God Sammy, move."

Sam wastes no time at all. He pulls out and slowly pushes back in, repeating this over and over a dozen times before getting a really good rhythm going. Sam drags his lips over Dean's cheek, breath coming out in loud gasps, and Dean's grunting in time with every thrust. Dean knows Sam's holding back because he's moving slower than they usually do. He knows Sam wants to make this last as long as possible too.

There is no sound in the room but the slap of skin on skin, heavy breathing, grunting moans and the headboard lightly thumping the wall. Dean reaches his hand between them, bringing it down past his own balls to feel Sam pumping in and out, to memorize what they feel like connected this way. He doesn't want to forget a single moment of this.

He feels sweat drip on his cheek and looks up at Sam's face; his beautiful face, scrunched up in concentration, his cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink. But then Dean realizes it wasn't sweat that dripped on his cheek, it was a tear. Sam's crying. Dean has never been able to handle seeing his brother cry and his heart clenches so hard he's afraid he's going to pass out. Sam crying right now is so much worse than ever before because there's nothing Dean can do to make it better.

Sam hooks one arm under Dean's knee, pushing that leg even higher and harder into Dean's chest so he can change his angle. Dean's dick is steadily leaking now that Sam is slamming into his prostate with every thrust, but the tears, still streaking down Sam's face, are all Dean can see at this point. Dean can't hold his own tears back any longer so he just lets go.

Sam is pounding into Dean, although the rhythm is still slow, and he's swiveling his hips, digging up into Dean, and Dean swears he can feel Sam all the way up into his stomach. Sam brings his face down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Dean. Their faces are wet with tears and sweat and spit from all their sloppy, desperate kissing, and Dean doesn't think sex has ever felt this good and this painful all at the same time; the contrast is fucking killing him.

"D'n, God, D'n..." Sam is breathing out his name and he starts speeding up, fucking Dean harder now, and Dean knows this is it. Sam reaches between them and starts pumping Dean's cock, and God it's so good. Sam knows exactly how Dean likes everything.

"M'close, little brother." Dean's voice is little more than a gritty whisper, and Sam whimpers at Dean's words before slamming their mouths together, pounding his cock into Dean, harder, deeper and faster. Dean can't hang on any longer as feels his orgasm invade every nerve ending in his body and his breath comes out like a punch, come spurting from his dick and spilling all over Sam's hand and the space between them. Sam follows Dean a few thrusts later, an almost inhuman cry tearing from his throat as he pumps slower, more eratically and off rhythm, filling up his brother. "God..." Sam says between breaths. "I love you, Dean...I do..." Sam heaves out a few more breaths before burying his face into Dean's neck. "I always will."

Dean wraps his arms around Sam's back, running his fingers through the sweat pooling there, and presses a kiss to the side of Sam's head. "Me too, Sammy. I love you, too." Then Dean's face scrunches up and he can't stop himself from sobbing.

EPILOGUE

The sun is finally up and Dean is packing their bags when Sam comes out of the bathroom, hair wet from his shower and fully dressed.

"Dean, can you come here for a sec?" Sam asks lightly.

Dean walks slowly toward Sam, not really having the strength for this.

"We probably won't get a chance later and I just wanted to say thanks. Thanks for believing in me, man. You have no idea -"

"Didn't we do enough of this last night?"

"Well yeah, but -"

"Sam, if I have any hope of actually getting us on the road and where we need to be, I need to stop you right there. I'm sorry but I just have to,." Dean says, his voice cracking at the end. They could have all the time in the world and it would never be enough. He just needs to get them the hell out of here. He was never one for walking slowly into the water. He always jumped right in. He can count on one hand the number of times he's actually been truly terrified, and this is at the top of his list. But he owes it to Sam to trust him on this so he needs to just put one foot in front of the other. Because if he starts in with this again, he's likely to kidnap Sam and run off to hide them in some angel-proofed, salt-lined, iron-laden, demon-trap-filled, underground bunker in the middle of a nowhere.

"Whatever else you want me to know, Sam? Believe me, I know," he says with a confident nod. Because he does.

"But Dean –"

Dean cuts Sam off by walking up to him, grabbing his biceps, leaning in and brushing his lips softly and slowly across Sam's, his eyes closed and heart broken. He holds the kiss for a minute, raises one hand up to clutch the back of Sam's head and Sam's fingers are digging into Dean's back. This is it. But they have work to do. The kiss ends way too soon as Dean pulls away, clears his throat and adds, "I'll be in the car."

Dean turns and walks out the door. If he doesn't get in the car now, he never will.

Dean sits in the Impala, waiting for Sam, Bobby and Cas. The irony of it being a bright, sunny day, when it's probably the darkest day of his life, isn't lost on Dean. He starts up the engine and for the first time in his life, the familiar rumble isn't comforting; not at all. It just sounds sad, as if she actually knows where they're going and why. Dean turns around in his seat, looking out the back window so he can back out of the parking space when his eyes catch on something.

The little green army man Sam stuck in the ashtray when he was a kid.

It's still there. Dean has always made sure it stayed there, too. He always thought it was funny as shit, but now it just makes him want to burst into tears all over again. He'll never get rid of it, though. Never.

Some people have their children's heights at various ages etched into closet doors, but Winchesters have initials carved into the trunk of their car. Some people have postcards and souvenirs of the places they've visited, but Winchesters have scars all over their bodies that tell the stories of where they've been and who they've met. Some people have degrees and resumes, but Winchesters have an old leather-bound journal to keep a record of their accomplishments and failures. Some people have photo albums and home movies, but Winchesters have army men stuck in their backseat ashtray.

Most importantly, Dean has his memories and nobody can take those from him. He remembers when he first met Sam, he remembers Sam's first word and his first steps. He remembers being brothers, best friends, father and son, and he remembers when they became even more. He remembers every time Sam walked out of his life and every time they were pulled apart by outside forces.

But he also remembers every time they were reunited, because that's what they do. They're like a magnet and metal. Eventually they snap back together, right where they're supposed to be. Whether it was life, death, distance or yes, even time because their lives are weird like that, no matter what separated them, that pull was always too great to withstand. They could never avoid it before, even if they wanted to. Not until now, anyway.

Dean knows without a doubt that everything they've been through, everything they've done and everything they've been to each other has brought them to this point. Does he have regrets? Absolutely. But loving Sam more than anything else isn't one of them. He would never change that; couldn't even if he wanted to. He still doesn't believe in destiny and he now knows that this whole mess doesn't rest on any one person's shoulders. Sam shouldn't be the only one to have to clean it up. So, Dean isn't going to let Sam down now - how could he? Sam is about to make the ultimate sacrifice, but Dean believes that he is, too. Because seriously, what could be worse than being separated from Sam for all of eternity? He isn't sure how he's supposed to live without his brother, but he seriously doubts it's going to come to that. He's pretty sure today is the end for both of them, and Dean is okay with that because there is no life for him without Sam. Without his Sammy.

One thing is for sure, Dean will not leave Sam. He will be with his brother to the very end. And if by some cruel miracle, Dean lives through this, he'll never stop looking for a way to get Sam back. He'll keep the promises he made but he wouldn't be Dean Winchester if he just left his little brother to rot in that cage forever.

Dean is startled back to the present as Sam opens the door and climbs into his spot in the passenger seat, and quickly, Dean fumbles to put his sunglasses on before Sam can see the tears in his eyes. The door slams shut and he turns to Dean. "So, Bobby and Cas are following right behind us."

Dean nods almost imperceptibly, in a daze.

"You ready?"

Dean shifts the car into reverse and backs out before glancing over at his little brother. "No, Sammy. I'm really...really not."

I'll feel my world crumbling

I'll feel my life crumbling

I'll feel my soul crumbling away

falling away...falling away with you

The End