Creative Imperative

TITLE: Cry Wolf (Part Eight)
SERIES: Cry Wolf can be considered a sequel to my SPN fic Family Values but it's not necessary to read that first.
RATING: Adults Only
FANDOM: The Sentinel/Supernatural Crossover
CATEGORY: Crossover, Horror...see story notes.
PAIRINGS: Jim/Blair, Dean/Sam, Dean/OFC

Previous Chapters: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

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Cry Wolf

Part Eight

Erin was curled around Dean's back, her chin resting on his shoulder. She reached up for the cell phone. Her closeness was enough of a distraction that she took the phone from him easily.

"He'll call you back, Sammy."

Then, before Dean could act, she turned the phone off and tossed it away.

Dean turned, a protest rising to his lips, but the words died as he met her green eyes. Only then did he truly believe Sam, because he might go a bit crazy over a girl from time to time but not like this. He swallowed past the sudden constriction in his throat.

"I know what you are," he said. His voice sounded hoarse.

Erin smiled, laughter in her eyes. "Do you care?"

She was so close to him, he could feel the heat of her body. She leaned even closer, her lips almost touching his skin. Dean could feel her breath gusting across his skin when she spoke. "You want me..."

Dean backed off, but he was trapped against the wall.

If Erin offered him violence Dean could react. She might look like a fragile girl but he knew she wasn't. But she wasn't offering violence. She was offering sex. He wanted sex. Dean was trapped, as much by his own nature as by hers. Part of him wanted to fight her but the other, the strongest part of him was still caught in her charisma. He knew he should shove her away and run like hell. But he couldn't.

He could stop himself from reaching for her.

He could resist enough to remain motionless, to not move into the kiss she so clearly wanted. But he couldn't move away.

Sam...Sam said...

"Get rid of the glamour, Erin. Let me see the truth."

"I will...if you kiss me." Her mouth was so near she could easily have stolen a kiss, but she didn't.

Dean had an instant to decide. He knew that faery glamour could compel him to act; he had no iron, none of the things that might break through it for him. He needed to see the reality. Maybe if he could see her true nature, he could resist her spell.

And would it be so bad, really, to kiss her?

He had already kissed her and nothing bad happened.

Dean moved, just that small space, and his lips meet hers. She should have tasted like the milk she'd just finished drinking, but what came into his mind was honey, thick, rich and sweet. He drank down that taste, holding her close to him. Her body felt warm against his and he reached for the zipper of her coat, drawing it down slowly while they kissed. He pushed the coat aside, brushing a hand over her breast. Her breasts were small and firm, her nipple hard beneath his fingers. Perfect...

He pulled away with an effort. This was wrong. He shouldn't be...but it was hard to remember why. Sam. Sam was why. Sam called...

"Lose the glamour, Erin. Let me see what you really are." Dean heard the thread of desperation in his voice, as if he was begging. He hoped she hadn't heard it.

She slipped her hand beneath his t-shirt, touching bare skin. She was smiling. And then she did as he asked.

The glamour didn't vanish all at once. It leaked away slowly, like water. The first thing Dean noticed was her eyes. Erin's eyes were lovely, a startling green, but they were human eyes. As he watched the green intensified until her eyes were glowing, the irises aflame with green flecked with red. Certainly not human.

Dean blinked, hardly able to believe what he saw was real. He lifted a hand to her face, brushing a lock of hair back from her cheek and as he did the hair changed, darkening from her bright auburn to a dark, rich brunette. The colour, at least, was human. Her skin was pale, almost white and velvet soft to his touch, like a baby's skin. Her features seemed to sharpen, her cheekbones becoming higher, her chin more pointed, but he could still recognise Erin as herself. Her perfect, cupid's bow mouth was as kissable as before.

She wasn't human, but he couldn't help seeing her as beautiful. Dean ran her silky hair through his fingers and she began to push his shirt off his shoulders. He tried to remember why he shouldn't be doing this but all he could think about was her hands, and then, as he drew her down to the ivy-covered ground, her lovely mouth on him and how much he wanted her.

*****

"She's got Dean," Sam announced.

Jim nodded; he'd heard both sides of the conversation and reached the same conclusion.

Sam ran for the door, the phone still in his hand.

Blair blocked his way. "Whoa! Where are you going, man?"

"To get Dean," Sam said, as if it should be obvious...and it was, but Jim knew that wasn't Blair's worry.

"Where is he?" Jim asked. "Did he say?"

Sam's determined look faded a little. "No, he didn't. Erin told us she lives on the hill above the waterfall."

"She probably lied, Sam," Blair pointed out.

Sam pocketed his phone and moved as if to push Blair out of his way. "He's my brother!"

"I know," Blair answered.

Jim stepped forward. "What's your plan, Sam?"

Sam met Jim's eyes and Jim watched the raw panic in his eyes drain away, replaced by something steadier. Good. That was what they needed. The kid was probably used to working with only Dean to back him up. Well, this time, he wasn't alone.

"We've got your back, Sam," Jim said to underline it. "What's the plan?"

Sam took a breath. "I've got iron rounds in the car. And rock salt for the shotgun. There's no way to kill her but iron and salt should slow her down."

Good plan. Jim nodded. "But you don't know where they are." He checked his watch and looked at Blair. Blair was their best chance, but... "It's not full dark yet," Jim said. It was as close as he would get to asking Blair to do this.

"It's full moon tonight," Blair answered at once. "I don't need the dark."

"I meant, someone might see you, Chief."

"I'll be careful." Blair looked at Sam and moved to the side, clearing Sam's way to the door. "Dean went to Beanies, didn't he?"

"Yes, but..."

Jim nodded to Blair. "It's alright, Sam. Blair can track Dean's scent and I...I mean, we can follow Blair. Can you ride a horse? It'll be faster."

Sam seemed much calmer now. "It's been a few years, but yeah. I can ride."

"Go get your salt and iron and meet me in the stable."

Sam nodded, his expression showing his gratitude. He hurried through the door.

Jim went to Blair, then. It was a good plan, but it had some real dangers. Things he couldn't mention in front of Sam. "Chief, if you get there first...as a wolf..."

Blair moved into his arms and Jim held him. Blair said quietly, "I can't promise, man. When I'm a wolf, I just can't think like a person. The promise wouldn't mean anything." He looked worried. "Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"From what you and Sam have said, Chief, if you don't, Dean could be worse than dead. Do your best, love. That's all." He kissed Blair, but made it brief. "We've got to hurry."

Blair nodded. "Jim," he said, "just in case..."

Blair's serious look made Jim's heart stop, just for a moment. Blair was telling him to pack silver bullets. Just in case. Jim nodded. "I know. I will." He hated that his agreement made Blair relax.

"I love you," Blair said.

"Love you, too," Jim answered. It hurt to say it. He'd just promised to kill Blair if he couldn't stay in control of the wolf.

*****

In the garage, Sam propped the Impala's trunk open and rummaged through the contents quickly. He loaded both shotguns with rock salt and stuffed more into his pockets. It took him a while to find the iron bullets: Dean's trunk wasn't exactly organised. In the end, he found them, but only enough for half a clip. It would have to do. He slammed the trunk closed and hurried out to the stable.

He found Jim saddling a second horse. Jim told him to close the stable door.

Sam frowned. "Why?"

"Because Blair's about to Change and I don't want to lose the horses. Or you."

Sam closed the lower half of the stable door, but he wondered about the way Jim phrased that. "Are you ever afraid he'll attack you?"

Jim flashed a quick smile Sam's way. "No. He knows me, even when he's a wolf. If things go well tonight, you'll see. Here." He held out the bridle to Sam.

Sam gave him a shotgun in exchange for the reins. "I don't know if salt will hurt her but it does disrupt faery magic, so it might weaken her. I only found enough iron rounds for one gun."

Jim nodded. "You keep that one. I'll manage." Jim checked the load on the shotgun. Then he tensed visibly, looking toward the stable door.

A scream cut through the air, a human scream. Jim remained utterly still, one fist clenched, his shoulders tense. The scream shocked Sam and he moved automatically toward the door, his hand moving toward his knife. He had to help!

When Jim spoke, his voice was even more tense than his body. "Sam, don't. It's Blair."

As he spoke Sam heard the screaming change until it became the blood-freezing howl of a wolf. God, it was horrible. Of course it made sense that the Change would hurt but to hear this... Sam looked at Jim again and in that moment he began to understand what he and Dean had blundered into.

"I'm sorry," Sam said quietly.

Jim looked at him for a long moment. "Let's go save your brother." He waited for Sam to re-open the stable door and mounted his horse.

*****

Dean lay on his back in a bed of moss and ivy. He was nude and should have been cold but he felt warm. Erin straddled his waist, her thighs warm against his belly and sides. Dean reached up, caressing her breasts. She leaned down to kiss him, her glowing green eyes filling his vision.

He slid his hands down to her waist. She was a vision. A dream. He was dreaming. Her tongue parted his lips, warm and demanding. Dean rolled them over so Erin lay on her back, her legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed her deeply, his eyes closed, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She moaned, moving her hips against him, begging him to fuck her. He wanted to fuck her. He kissed her neck, sucking on her milk-white skin.

"Erin," he groaned against her neck.

"Tell me..." she whispered.

He raised up above her. "Tell you?"

"Tell me your fantasy. I can make it true for you."

Dean hesitated. Sam. Sam was his fantasy. Sam, naked and needing beneath him. Sam's dick in his mouth. The way Sam always obeyed orders in bed; he would do anything Dean asked, because they loved each other even if they never said it. Sam.

Sam who told him... Sam said...

"Sam," Dean said aloud.

Erin hissed in anger.

What the hell was he doing? Dean looked down at the inhuman creature in his arms and disgust rose up like bile in his throat. For just an instant her spell was broken and Dean recoiled from what she was, his cock wilting in terror. Sidhe. God, he'd almost fucked her. If he'd done that, he would be dead. Or worse. Hers. A slave, a meal.

Then she reached up, pulling him down into a kiss. Dean struggled against her, but she was strong, too strong for him. The moment her lips touched his, he was lost again. Her warm hand wrapped around his dick and he cried out, instantly hard.

"I want this," she whispered and her voice was low and rough with desire. Desire for him. Dean felt a surge of triumph that something as lovely as she wanted him. Needed him.

He kissed her again. Sharp pain made him jerk back and he tasted blood. He watched her lick his blood from her lips as if it were honey. He slid his hand between her legs and slowly pushed a finger inside her. So wet... So warm...

She rolled him onto his back, her hands on his shoulders, holding him down. He looked up into her face as she rose above him, her body moving to enclose him. He remembered...there was something...important.

Dean grasped her waist with both hands, gripping hard, forcing her to stop though it took all the control he had left.

"You'll kill me," he whispered, and a corner of his mind was yelling at him so what? What a way to die!

Erin smiled and shook her head. "No. No, Dean, not tonight."

Not tonight. But another night.

"No. Please, Erin. No." His words said no, but his body was saying yes-please-now, his hips thrusting upward, his cock blindly seeking her embrace. She moved down his body and gasped with pleasure.

And then she screamed.

*****

Blair ran from the stable, his paws scratching on the cool stone. He felt the pull of the moon, calling him to hunt and kill. He smelled the horses nearby. His mate was with them. Jim.

Jim's scent focussed him. He would hunt, hunt as Jim wanted him to hunt. Blair barked a challenge into the night and ran on, toward the town.

In wolf form, Blair was fast. He skirted the town, pausing every now and then to sniff the air, seeking the familiar scent of Dean. Melting snow churned up beneath his paws as he ran. He was out in the open where he could be seen, but it didn't trouble him.

Finally, Blair caught the scent he sought. Dean. But Dean's scent was mingled with another. A scent Blair knew of old; a scent the wolf in him associated with death and blood. The indefinable but utterly unique scent of his enemy.

For a moment, Blair hesitated, confused. Jim wanted him to hunt Dean...but a wolf hunts only to kill and he knew that wasn't the plan. Now there was this other scent. It wasn't food, but it was something to kill. Something he wanted to kill. A growl built in his throat, rumbling from his mouth in a snarl. He put his nose to the ground and followed the new scent.

Blair had forgotten that Jim was going to follow him. It was the wolf's way: it was utterly single-mined. Focussed on the hunt, Blair thought only of the scent he was following. It took him up the narrow pathway above the creek. The scent became stronger the higher he ran. He was close.

The trail let him over a wall, past a garden overgrown with weeds and brambles but oddly free of snow. It led him through a broken wooden door. The scent was very strong here. It was the lair of his prey. The part of his mind that was still human wondered why he never scented it here before, he passed this way in wolf form, often. He had no answer, but the wolf didn't care. It was here, now.

Blair found his prey in a roofless room filled with green: evergreen ivy, grass and moss. The scent he followed led him to a pair of creatures. One was human, male. The other was a pale, glowing thing above the human's recumbent body. Blair growled, low in his throat. This was his prey. It didn't know he was watching. It was vulnerable.

Blair attacked.

His powerful jaws clamped around its throat, the force of his charge carrying it to the floor, away from the human. Its scream of pain filled the air. Blair bit down on flesh, its blood filling his mouth. The screaming stopped, but Blair did not. He felt flesh tear under his teeth and snarled with satisfaction. The body beneath him stopped struggling. Stopped breathing.

But a wolf kills to eat. Blair's mouth was full of the meat of its throat. He threw his head up, swallowing the meat. He let out a bark of triumph. He moved down the body to tear open its belly and feed.

Something struck his flank and Blair whirled, growling. He saw the human, naked and vulnerable, a second stone in his hand. Blair smelled fear and knew the human was weak. It threw the second stone, striking Blair's neck. Blair growled, abandoning his kill, advancing on the human. He tensed, preparing to attack. The human spoke, but Blair was beyond comprehending human speech.

"Blair, no!"

The voice of his mate made Blair hesitate. The human fell to the ground. It was weak. Easy prey, more palatable prey than the thing he had already killed. Blair prepared once again to leap.

"No, Blair!" Jim ran toward him, blocking Blair's way to the human even as Blair leapt. "He's not for you!"

Blair leapt, his outstretched paws striking Jim's shoulders. He licked Jim's face.

Jim laughed. "That's my boy!"

Blair licked him again, yipping excitedly.

"Alright, down, boy!" Jim's hands were in the thick fur of Blair's ruff, pushing him down. Reluctantly, Blair obeyed. Jim turned around, one hand still in Blair's fur. He spoke to the other human, then pulled on Blair's neck, signalling him to turn. Jim pointed to the pale and bleeding body of the one Blair killed. "That's your kill," he insisted. "You don't need more."

Blair whined, unhappy with the order, but he obeyed his mate.

*****

Sam had no idea how Jim could follow the wolf's trail in the dark. Blair had explained that Jim's senses were exceptionally acute, but even knowing that, what Jim was doing seemed like magic. He followed signs that Sam could see no trace of. All Sam could do was follow Jim and trust him to lead them the right way.

Sam hadn't lied when he said it was a few years since he'd been on a horse. Though John Winchester considered a lot of odd things "essential skills", horse riding wasn't high on the list. Sam wasn't a skilled horseman, but he managed well enough.

Jim set a fast pace. They skirted the town and took the bridle path high above the creek. They were headed, Sam thought, to the hill above the waterfall. It surprised him a little: did Erin actually tell the truth about where she lived?

The path Jim followed led into the trees, and Sam had to duck to avoid the branches. Then he saw the derelict cottage ahead. Most of the roof was gone and the remaining walls were overgrown with ivy. Here, they stopped.

Jim dismounted, hooking his horse's reins over what was left of the gatepost. He lifted the shotgun, holding it ready to fire. He looked at Sam over his shoulder. "Sam, you need to let me go in first. Blair won't harm me."

"I'm right behind you." Sam thumbed the safety off his gun. God, let Dean be okay. Let us be in time.

The way Jim moved reminded Sam strongly of his father. He held the shotgun as if he used it in combat every day, primed to fire, his hand steady, his finger on the trigger. He moved quickly but with stealth, staying close to the walls, in the shadows. It made it easy for Sam to trust him. He followed Jim into the cottage.

Moonlight spilled through the holes in the roof, throwing strange shadows everywhere. With the ivy-covered walls and the eerie moonlight, Sam felt like he was entering a grotesque version of Sleeping Beauty's castle.

And then he saw them.

The huge grey wolf he knew to be Blair stood over what appeared to be a dead body. Sam saw milk-white skin, thin, almost skeletal limbs, and hair, blue-brown in the moonlight, tangled in the ivy. Dear god, was that Erin's true form?

The wolf snarled, its body tense. It made Sam look where the wolf was looking and he saw Dean. Dean, naked in the cold night, barely able to kneel, let alone stand. As Sam watched, he fell to the ground.

"Dean!" Sam started to move.

"No, Sam!" Jim snapped. "Stay where you are." He ran forward. "Blair, no!" Jim let the shotgun fall as he ran, intercepting the wolf before it could get to Dean. "He's not for you!"

Could Blair even understand human speech in this form? Sam remained still, obeying Jim's order, even though everything in him wanted to run to Dean.

Dean lay on his side, partly buried in the ivy. He was naked and Sam couldn't see his clothing anywhere. There was blood on his face, around his mouth.

Each detail increased Sam's fear for his brother. If Erin had bound Dean to her, would they be able to free him? They were planning to bind her, as she had been bound before, in the old iron mine, but would that free Dean? The legend said the only way to free a man from the Leannan Sidhe was to offer another man in his place. If they couldn't free Dean, what did that mean? Would his life be in danger? His sanity? There was so much Sam didn't know, and it scared him.

Sam heard Jim tell the wolf not to harm Dean. The wolf obeyed, moving toward the other body.

"Alright, Sam," Jim said quietly.

Sam flicked the safety on and held the gun out to Jim. "Watch her. She's not dead, whatever it looks like."

Jim took the gun from him. His other hand was still buried in the werewolf's fur, petting him as if it were a big, friendly puppy. "Got it," he said.

Sam ran to Dean's side.

Jim had told Sam that even in wolf form, Blair wouldn't harm him, so Sam ignored them both, trusting Jim to keep the wolf away while he took care of Dean. He lifted Dean's body into his arms, so Dean lay with his back against Sam's chest. His head lolled back against Sam's shoulder. He opened his eyes, but he didn't appear to be seeing Sam. His eyes were unfocussed. If Sam hadn't known better, he would have said Dean was stoned. But Dean never did drugs. He'd tried marijuana once, when they were kids. When their dad smelled it on him he'd made sure Dean would never make the same mistake again. So whatever it looked like, Dean's condition wasn't something he'd taken or smoked.

Magic. Glamour. Whatever you called it, it was devastating. Somehow, Sam had to break the spell. The only trouble was he had no idea how.

Lifting Dean's body clear of the ivy revealed one other detail to Sam: Dean's cock lay heavy and hard against his belly.

It was a sight that under other circumstances would have distracted Sam, but he was too scared to think sexual thoughts. He felt mortified for Dean, who would hate to be seen like this, weak and exposed. He stripped off his jacket to cover Dean's nakedness. As he spread the jacket over his brother, he heard Dean's voice. No words, just an incoherent mumbling.

He took Dean's chin in his hand, turning his face up to look into his unfocussed eyes. "Dean? Dude, are you in there?"

Dean blinked and suddenly his eyes were focussed on Sam's face.

"Dean!" Sam tried again.

"Sammy?" It was only a whisper, but a tightness in Sam's chest eased. It wasn't too late.

Dean lifted his head, then fell back into Sam's arms. "Erin. Where is she?"

"She's..." Sam looked over to where her body lay. The werewolf had made a mess of her, but Sam knew she wasn't dead. She was a Leannan Sidhe. Immortal. They could decapitate her and she'd survive it. "She's...gone," Sam said. He tightened his arms around Dean, holding him down, though Dean appeared too weak to get up. He wouldn't risk Dean going to her.

Dean's eyes were suddenly wide with panic. "Gone? No! Sam, I need..." He covered his dick with one hand, hissing at the touch.

Sam did the only thing he could think of. He covered Dean's mouth with his own. He knew Jim was watching, but that wasn't important any more. All he cared about was Dean. Sam had to break Erin's hold on Dean, and all he could think of was to turn Dean's lust to himself.

At first, Dean tried to push him away. Sam parted his lips, pushing his tongue into Dean's mouth. He tasted the blood on Dean's lips. Suddenly, Dean relaxed in his arms, kissing Sam back. Dean's tongue thrust into Sam's mouth, hot and demanding. It was such a relief, Sam kissed Dean the way he would in bed, feeling the first threads of arousal curl in his groin. Dean whimpered into their joined mouths and Sam drew back, still holding him close.

Sam looked up to find Jim watching them. The look on Jim's face was enough. One friendship down the toilet. But Sam couldn't deal with that now. "I've got to help him," Sam said to Jim. He didn't raise his voice. "Can you manage her alone?" It was the most subtle way he could think of to ask for some privacy. He hated to do it to Jim, but Dean came first.

Jim stared at him a moment longer, then nodded. "I'm not alone. You'll catch up?"

"As soon as Dean's okay."

Jim nodded again and turned away. Sam caught the movement of the wolf as it bounded to Jim's side.

Sam didn't wait for Jim to leave. Jim would take Erin's body up to the old mine. With luck, he would get there before she revived. If not...well, as Jim said, he wasn't alone. Blair seemed capable of taking care of it...as long as the moonlight lasted.

Dean's passivity worried Sam. It was so unlike him. It seemed to be physical weakness, but Sam wasn't sure. What had Erin done to him?

Well...she needed him passive, or at least pliable. But she didn't need magic for that: seemed any pretty girl could lead Dean around by his dick. Pliable...but she needed him to be strong enough to fuck. That was how she ensnared her men...and how she fed.

Dean reached up toward him. "Sam...Erin..."

Strong enough to fuck. Erin had bespelled Dean. Sam had to break her spell, and he could think of only one way to do that. Her link to Dean was sexual. Sam had a sexual link to Dean, too. His should be stronger than hers...but he'd never felt less like having sex.

He leaned in to Dean, as if to kiss him. His lips almost touching Dean's skin, he said, "Fuck me, Dean. You don't need her. C'mon, big brother." He kissed Dean, long and deep.

Dean twisted in Sam's arms until they were face to face. He pushed Sam down, tearing at his clothing. It was the reaction Sam wanted, but Dean's hands were clumsy.

The buttons of Sam's shirt flew off as Dean tore them open. Under the shirt, Sam wore a t-shirt. Dean grabbed it, balling his fists in the material. It was as if he didn't know what to do next. Sam took one of Dean's hands and dragged it downward, guiding Dean's hand to his belt. Dean got the message and unbuckled Sam's belt, tore open his jeans, and thrust his hand inside.

Sam was too cold - and too scared - to be aroused. He enjoyed rough sex, and he had no problem with quick-and-dirty but this...this wasn't Dean. This frantic, needing thing was not the brother he loved. He realised suddenly that this wasn't going to stop. Deancouldn't stop. He needed to touch, to fuck, and he was gonna do it whether they wanted it or not.

Dean's hand trapped in Sam's pants cupped him the way Dean would if he were hard. Sam lay back in the ivy, hoping there wasn't any poison ivy in the tangled vines, and raised his hips to pull his pants down. Dean yanked at the denim, hurting Sam, leaving red weals across his hips. Sam stifled a cry. "Dean, god, slow down!"

Sam groped for his jacket which had fallen away from Dean's body. He didn't have any lube but there was a condom in his wallet. It would make this a little easier.

Dean's hands on Sam's shoulders held him down. Dean was straddling Sam's body, looking down at him, and the look in his eyes was hungry. Feral. "Ssssam..." It was a long, drawn out hiss.

Sam looked up into his brother's eyes. Somewhere behind the lust and the desperate need, Dean was in there. Dean recognised him. Dean wouldn't hurt Sam. Sam believed that like a child believes in Santa Claus: an absolute, unquestioning faith. Dean wouldn't hurt him. That had been a constant all his life, no matter what challenges or horrors they faced. Not even Erin could take that much of what Dean was.

Sam reached up and grasped Dean's forearms, not pushing him away, just holding on, tight. "Dean," he said firmly. "Stop."

For an instant Dean's grip on his shoulders tightened. Then Dean blinked and shook his head. "Sammy? Oh, god...what's happening?"

"Dean, it's okay. I know what you need, dude. Just let me get a condom."

Dean looked horrified. "Not you. Sam..."

Sam reached up to Dean's face with one hand. With the other, he groped blindly for the jacket. "I want you, Dean," he lied.

"You don't understand. I feel..."

"I know." Sam's fingers found the jacket and he started to drag it toward him.

"I need..." Dean whispered, and it seemed as if the brief moment of lucidity had exhausted his strength.

Sam had to twist away from Dean to find his wallet. Dean grabbed him as he half-turned, forcing him onto his belly. Sam dug into the pocket and his fingers closed over the wallet as he felt Dean's hands spread his buttocks. Sam would let Dean fuck him because the alternative was too terrible to consider but he didn't want it. Not like this. He gripped the wallet and thrust it back toward Dean, praying there was enough of Dean left for him to take it.

There was.

Dean snatched the wallet from Sam's hand. The few moments it took Dean to get the condom on gave Sam a chance to find a more comfortable position. He raised himself to his knees, his pants down around his ankles. He thrust his hands into the ivy, getting a good grip on the vines. He braced himself for pain and felt Dean close on him, the blunt head of his cock probing between his buttocks.

Dean stroked Sam's back, soothing. He began to push into Sam, but slowly. There was pain, but it wasn't all that bad. Dean was surprisingly gentle, the pressure of him building slowly, so Sam had time to get used to it, to relax and take it all. Sam had forgotten this about Dean. He always knew what Sam needed. When he was balls-deep in Sam's body, Dean stopped, reaching beneath to cup Sam's cock, stroking firmly. Despite the cold, Sam felt his cock begin to harden under Dean's touch. Only then did Dean begin to move inside him.

Dean withdrew himself slowly then drove into Sam's ass, all gentleness gone. It tore a cry from Sam's lips, half of pain, half, unexpectedly, pleasure. Dean's hand pumped his dick and Sam was lost, lost in the slide of flesh within flesh, the sweat of Dean's palm and Dean's voice repeating Sam, Sammy, Sam until even that was lost and Sam cried out, gripping the ivy so hard his hands bled and he cried out, spilling himself into Dean's hand. Dean's teeth scraped Sam's skin, biting into his shoulder as Dean climaxed with a wordless groan.

Dean collapsed on top of Sam, breathing hard. Sam didn't move, waiting for Dean, desperately hoping this was enough. Dean pulled out of him, stroking a hand down Sam's side.

"Sam? Holy crap, are you okay?"

It sounded so much like Dean that Sam almost laughed with relief. He turned, wincing a little. "I'm okay. You?"

Dean scowled. "Where is that bitch? And where the hell are my clothes? Jesus, it's cold!"

Part Nine