After quite a bit of bitching on Dean's behalf, and Sam trying to reason with Bobby, Dean finally settles the argument of Bobby getting his own room with Ruby standing guard on the grounds that Bobby could either get his own room or watch Dean seduce Sam, since being the Devil kind of burned away the last of Dean's inhibitions in regards to the fact that he now realizes that he desires his younger brother. It doesn't really matter anymore that it's a sin, Dean kind of rules over Hell, so a little incest is nothing at this point.

Dean's relieved as the door closes behind Ruby, who's escorting Bobby to the office to get a room for him and keep close watch on him. Dean smiles at the thought of Bobby still grumbling and bitching over having a damn babysitter. Bobby's still the same as always, and Dean feels a little nostalgic, not that he completely trusts Bobby yet. After all, Dean's the Devil and Bobby's not too found of anything way down south, but the fact that Bobby's kind of giving him the benefit of doubt and trusting him with Sam is a huge start.

Dean looks up from his musings at the sound of Sam clearing his throat. Sam is pacing, that's odd, usually Dean's the pacer, but Dean just let's his wings fan out behind him as he leans back on his elbows and watches Sam, taking pleasure in just being in Sam's presence. Finally Sam stops and looks at Dean, and that look on his face is enough to make Dean groan.

"That whole seduction thing you said to Bobby, that was just some joke, right? I mean just to get rid of him… You weren't… Serious?" Sam asks, his voice a little high pitched and cracking at the end.

Dean flutters his wings, lets out a little groan and looks up at Sam from beneath hooded eyes, drawing his tongue slowly across his lips. "Let's just say Hell can change a man's perspective. I've missed you Sammy, and being back, looking at you, I see just how much I missed the first time around."

"But dude!" Sam sputters. "We're brothers."

Dean shrugs. "Yeah, and I'm the Devil, so if we're gonna go to Hell, we may as well enjoy it, and it's not like anyone will bother you knowing you're the Devil's bitch."

Sam's eyes narrow. "I'm not your bitch."

Dean chuckles. "Whatever you say, Samantha," Dean replies, stretching his wings wide and shifting his left arm, drawing his left hand down the center of his chest, circling his navel with his index finger. "You know, it's not that difficult to give in Sam. You missed me, tried to fight for me, and then find me. You love me, this is the next step. Let me claim you and no one else can touch you. No one would dare to hurt you. If you belonged to me you'd be safe for all eternity, and while I wouldn't admit this to anyone else, I'd be yours."

Sam takes in a deep breath, a bitch face working across his features, and Dean gets to his feet gracefully, his feathers shifting and ruffling a little in the breeze of his movements. He pulls his wings tight against his back, and crosses the room to Sam. He reaches up, his hand curved around Sam's jaw, making Sam look at him. His green eyes lock with Sam's hazel, a challenge burning bright and fierce.

"Together we could make Hell into the paradise it once was. Why do you think no one can find Eden? It was sealed with Michael's flaming sword, dropped into the abyss of darkness and shadow, Hell was once Eden, and with you with me, we could make it like that again. You gave me humanity while I was here, and you can give me back that humanity that was burned away in Hell. Show me what you would do to save me. You have me back, but now you have to save me to keep me," Dean whispers huskily as he leans up, flickers his tongue at the corner of Sam's mouth, his wings spreading wide and then circling the two of them, shielding them in black, iridescent, silky feathers.

Sam pulls back a little, the feathers shifting his hair and tickling the back of his neck. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get a handle on things, because having Dean look at him like this is doing things to him, making his insides squirm and his belly heat up, his cock twitch in interest, and this is Dean, his brother. It doesn't matter that Dean is the actual Devil, he's still Sam's big brother.

Dean shifts, and Sam whimpers as Dean's nose nuzzles at the hollow of his throat and Dean's words rasp against his neck as he says, "Come on Sammy, what would you do to keep me?"

It's not fair, Dean doing this to him. He can't stand the thought of losing Dean again, and having Dean so close, that familiar smell, that bare chest pressed against him in a crude mockery of the few hugs they shared over their lives and the new sensation of those wings wrapped around him, so comforting and soft and soothing. This is wreaking havoc with his sense of right and wrong. He takes in a breath, turns to the ceiling of the motel room, tears seeping from the corners of his eyes and running back to his hairline, and it's almost like he's silently asking God what's wrong with loving someone so much? What does it matter? How can this be wrong?

He takes in another shuddering breath, lowers his face and blinks open his eyes, his vision suddenly filled with the look of concern on Dean's handsome face, and something burning bright in the midst of that lust in Dean's eyes.

Sam's not sure where the words come from, they just slip from his mouth.

"After all this time, you would still ask me to Fall and join you Lucifer? The years have changed us, trapped in cages of humanity, and now when I'm weak you'd ask me again?"

Dean blinks, his eyes film over black and he licks his lips. "You refused me once Samuel, when I told you the truth about God's indifference to us, the first of his creations. Can you refuse me a second time?"

Sam closes his eyes as he lets out a whimper and shifts closer, leaning down. It's not the best of kisses, their noses bump, but then Dean tilts his head just so and finally their lips connect. Dean runs his tongue along the seam of Sam's mouth, and Sam opens his mouth to his brother's tentative request. Dean, as is his nature, takes full advantage, tasting, savoring, and drinking deeply all the pleasure that is Sam's mouth, his hands roaming beneath Sam's t-shirt, slipping over chiseled muscle, hands spanning up Sam's chest, and Sam's breath hitches as Dean pulls back, black eyes blinking only to open and glitter playfully in a mossy green.

Dean licks his lips and smiles contented at Sam, and says, "How many lifetimes did it take for us to finally realize what these humans take for granted? How long has it taken for us to get it right?"

"I'm thinking we'll have to thank Michael someday."

"Fuck that smug bastard. I'm gonna get laid long and hard before I even consider thanking that hotheaded asshole!" Dean grouses, and Sam laughs.

Dean smiles at the sound of Sam laughing. It's been way too long since he's heard that laugh slip out so freely and full of contentment. Sam should laugh more often, and it's at the thought of Sam laughing, that Dean remembers just how ticklish Sam is.

Sam's eyes widen at the smirk tugging at Dean's lips, and he kind of gets where the phrase devilish smirk comes from now. Not that he'll point that out, Dean's already got enough of an ego as it is, and Sam's worried about what that smirk could mean for him at the moment.

He doesn't have long to worry as Dean's fingers begin to flutter aggressively over his abdomen, and he begins to tremble and laugh, hating that Dean remembers exactly where he's ticklish. Then again that's an annoying, pain in the ass brother's job, and it's good finally him back.

Laughter erupts from Sam in loud bursts, music to Dean's ears as he continues to tickle Sam, guiding him back, his wings flared wide as Sam's knees hit the back of a mattress and then Sam falls back on it rather gracelessly.

Dean follows, crawling up Sam's long body, his hands working Sam's shirt up his torso, then his chest, hiking it up to his armpits as he traces a path up Sam's stomach, his tongue scalding hot as it glides it's way further up, the muscles of Sam's belly and chest quivering beneath the sensation, and Dean marveling at the salty bite of Sam's skin. So much to lay bare and taste and Dean is eager, he can't wait.

----------

Sam is close, John can sense him, he's pulled toward him, and finds himself at a seedy motel, The Capshaw. What kind of a name is that for a hole in the wall dive anyway? He's stayed in worse though, can't really knock it for just the name.

He sees the Impala parked in front of one of the rooms down at the end, the room furthest from the check-in office. Not surprising that Sam would get a room so far from the office. He did train his boys well. His boys… that thought stings just a little. He takes in a breath, shakes away the thought.

He's doing this for Dean, to give him the life he deserved, the one he was meant to have. The one stolen from them. He's doing the right thing, especially considering what Sam truly is. The body is just a vessel, Sam is little more than a demon himself, born into the baby John lost the night he lost Mary.

He straightens, heads toward the door that the Impala is parked across from and stops short at the door. He knows the room is probably salted and warded, he's learned ways around that, but there's a power on the other side of the door, resonating outward. It's the same sense of power he got at the cemetery before he left. He can feel Sam inside the room, but he knows something else is in there with him, and John fears that he may already be too late.

He reaches for the doorknob, using his power he tries to nudge the lock into clicking so he can open the door, see if there is anything he can do to salvage what's left of his opportunity to bring Sam to Agares. The knob burns his hand, he pulls it back with a hiss, and a spike of pain erupts in his mind. He clutches his head as he hears a very stern and familiar voice in his head.

"Too late. He's mine," echoes inside of his mind.

He reels from the power that hits him full force, still unwilling to accept his fate. He slips off to the side of the motel. He'll wait, he has time enough yet to wait until the power eases and whatever is in that room with Sam slips and weakens enough for him to slip inside and finish his end of the deal he made the moment his eldest son sold his soul for a demon in disguise.

----------

Reaching Sam's mouth, hanging open from a particularly delectable moan is like discovering paradise. Dean gets lost in drinking up the moans and whimpers, his wings fluttering behind him, his cock heavy and wanting, and Sam is writhing beneath him, erection tenting his thin boxers, and making Dean realize just how overdressed he and his baby brother are.

Dean pulls back, mouthing at Sam's jaw as his whispers huskily, "Too many damn clothes. Wanna feel you Sammy."

Sam's breath hitches and he bucks up, trying to tear at his boxers, his straining erection curved toward his belly and peeking out from the worn, elastic waistband. Sam's hands begin to roam Dean's bare chest, down that taunt belly, tracing the thin line of hair just below Dean's navel to the fly of Dean's jeans. Dean shudders above him, his breath hitching, wings spanning wide in a loud flap, the sound of feathers ruffling filling the air.

Dean nips his way along Sam's throat, back up his jaw, his tongue working fervently into Sam's mouth and then he pulls back, nose nuzzling Sam's cheek as he asks, "Why you slowin' down, man? We've come this far, what's stoppin' ya?"

Dean can feel Sam's cheeks heating up, can smell the nervousness of Sam in the air, and he pulls back enough to look Sam in the face, and while he suspected this was a first for Sam, what with a guy and definitely the whole wing thing, and with how vanilla Sam probably is (and was even back in college), this hesitance still throws him for a loop.

"Sammy?" Dean asks, because concern for his little brother is still his main priority, much to his dick's protest.

Sam blinks up at him, his eyes wide, pupils blown, tongue running nervously over his lips, cheeks burning bright red, and then he turns his face to the side and lets out a huff.

"Talk to me here man, and make it quick. My dick feels like it's dyin' here," Dean says, and with the way Sam suddenly turns to look up at him with a glare, Dean thinks maybe that wasn't the best thing to say.

"Fucking might be easy for you, Dean, but it's been awhile for me, and hell… It's not like I've… I mean… Christ!" Sam snaps, and Dean's eyes go black, and he pulls back with a huff, ends up perched on his haunches over his infuriating little brother, the top button of his jeans undone, and his wings, twin arched curves behind him, feathers barely brushing his shoulders, as he cocks his head and stares down at Sam, a calculating look on his face.

Dean draws in his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly lets it slip free when he realizes he has Sam's full attention. He shifts, putting most of his weight on his arms, his hands splayed on the bed on either side of Sam's waist, and then he lowers himself so that he's straddling Sam's waist as he inches his arms up further, bracing himself with his arms just above Sam's shoulder. He watches as Sam swallows visibly, and then draws his tongue sensually across his swollen lips.

"I've been outta practice the last however the hell long it's been. Not like I sold my soul to a succubus or anything. Geez, Sammy, I'm not goin' to attack you or trip and impale your ass with my dick… Unless that's what you want. But I have every intention of wrapping my mouth around your cock until you come, and we'll take it nice and easy, and maybe if you're real lucky I might let you fuck me someday. For now though? Gettin' off is the main priority, that and gettin' you naked."

Dean smirks at the slack jawed shock on his brother's face, and before Sam can recover he kisses him, licking his way into Sam's mouth, their tongues fighting and Dean continues to smirk into the kiss as his right hand darts beneath the waistband of Sam's boxers, his fingers trailing down the length of Sam's shaft, to wrap around the base of Sam's cock, as his thumb teases over the head, his thumbnail catching the slit, and Sam bucks up and hisses.

"That a boy, Sam," Dean manages huskily as he pulls back, his wings flared as he begins to kiss and lick his way down Sam's neck, collarbone, chest, quivering stomach, his tongue dipping into Sam's navel, until finally he reaches Sam's cock.

He tightens his hand around the base for a moment, making Sam squirm, then he tilts down, wrestling to get the boxers down with his free hand, then his breath tickles across the head of Sam's cock and Sam let's out a whine that makes Dean snort, but he'll save the girl comments for later. Right now he's got a handful of Sam's cock to contend with, and that's the furthest thing from girly that Dean's ever seen.

Dean swipes the head of Sam's cock with his tongue, a nice, careful, wet swipe, groaning at the burst of pre-come that erupts from the head to dribble down. Sam makes an indistinguishable sound, his body strung tight, fingers clawing into the tangled cover and sheets of the bed, the heels of his feet struggling to find purchase as he digs them into the mattress, his knees rising up, toes curling. Dean chuckles, circles the crown of Sam's dick carefully, and presses his tongue just beneath the head, where he knows a bundle of nerves will be.

Sam's body jolts beneath him, chest heaving, and Sam forces himself to look down, meet his brother's mischievous green gaze, and he grinds out, "Fuck. You've… You jerk! I can't believe you've d…do…done this before!"

Dean's eyebrows arch as he pulls back with a profane pop as Sam's cock slips from his mouth and he glares up at Sam. "Dude, you're really bitchin' at me for having experience while I'm suckin' you off? What the HELL is wrong with you?"

"Why did you stop?" Sam snarls in reply.

Dean blinks and stares at him like it's obvious, and Sam does something that kind of surprises the both of them. Sam somehow wriggles out from beneath Dean and then tackles his older brother. Dean let's out an indignant squawk as he snaps, "Watch my damn wings you asshole!"

And then Dean's mind kind of goes out of commission as Sam's sharp teeth nip at his jaw and down his collarbone, nipping and biting all the way down, and a shiver of anticipation tears through Dean's whole body as the sound of his zipper's descent fills the air around him and Sam sinks his teeth in Dean's hip hard enough to leave a mark. Who knew Dean's baby brother was so possessive? All in all, if Dean could string two thoughts together he'd be impressed.

Sam sits up and then jerks Dean forward against him, their chests colliding and then Sam's teeth are grazing Dean's mouth, and Dean opens his mouth, tongues lashing as Sam slips his left hand down Dean's belly and finally, FINALLY, beneath his jeans and underwear, and for once Dean appreciates, truly appreciates, the size of Sam's hand as it closes around the shaft of Dean's cock.

Neither is quite sure of how it happens but in a series of Sam's teeth snapping and nipping against Dean's heated flesh their clothing is removed and thrown carelessly across the room. Sam is on his knees on the bed, Dean's legs wrapped around his waist, his cock finding friction against Dean's tight ass. Sam's hand is wrapped around Dean's cock while Dean croons dirty things and Sam gnaws against his collarbone as Dean shifts and rides him. Sure it's not exactly tab A in slot B, but Sam's not exactly sure about prep and Dean's still getting used to the wings and thinking of "pain in the ass" jokes at a pressing time like this is truly tactless, even by Dean's standards.

Dean feels the tension building in Sam, Sam's thrusting up against his ass becoming more frantic, and Sam's hand tightens on Dean's cock and that thumb slipping slick across the head of Dean's cock is damn near enough to do him in right there. Dean's wings curl around them, protectively, securing them in their own little world for a moment, and Dean's orgasm hits him hard, has him thrusting up into Sam's hand as his spills across both their bellies, his head thrown back, and then Sam's teeth lock sharply into his collarbone as Dean squirms and continues to ride Sam. It isn't long until Dean feels sticky warmth hitting him at the small of his back and up along his spine, and he absently wonders how much of a bitch it will be to get come out of feathers.

Sam lets go of Dean's collarbone, and Dean's wings retract as he slowly pulls away from Sam and lowers himself to the bed. Sam falls back rather gracelessly, chest still heaving. Dean tries to look down at his shoulder to assess the damage, and carefully rolls his left arm as he says, "Damn Sammy, how you managed not to break the skin is beyond me."

Sam huffs indignantly and narrows his eyes on his older brother. "Way to kill a mood jerk."

Dean's brows rise. "We had a mood?" Dean asks with a snicker, and Sam drags an arm across his eyes with a groan.

Dean continues to snicker as his wings flutter behind him and then he shifts around until he's settled, half on the mattress and half on top of Sam, his fingers trailing along Sam's ribcage. Sam pulls his arm down and shifts so he's sitting up a little, watching Dean. One of Dean's wings twitching catches Sam's attention, and Sam reaches out, stroking the soft, silky black feathers that hide the delicate veined skin and bones beneath. Dean shivers and moans at the touch, his entire body trembling on top of Sam, and Sam smiles.

"Kinda makes me wonder if you can fly," Sam says absently as he continues to stroke Dean's wing, a strange mewling sound escaping Dean's throat, but Dean's enjoying the touch too much to be his usual indignant self on the less than manly reactions on his part.

Dean moans and nuzzles his nose against the hollow of Sam's throat, and Sam is kind of surprised to find that his hard ass, big brother is a cuddler post orgasm, but it's a welcome surprise. He also has to admit that it's kind of nice seeing Dean so mellow and relaxed, almost boneless on top of him, languid and content. The moment doesn't last long though as Dean stiffens on top of him, his wings flutter and then Sam is surrounded protectively by those black wings as the door bursts open.

----------

He can feel the shift in the air around him. He makes his way cautiously to the door. It doesn't take much to work the mechanism in the cheap lock, and then he's opening the door. His eyes widen at the sight of wings and two pairs of legs, male legs twined together on the bed. He doesn't know what stuns him more. The fact that he's faced with a fallen angel, or that his youngest son is in bed with a man.

It's odd, he didn't think there was much of anything left in the world that could shock him. This is most definitely an unexpected and unpleasant surprise. He takes in a breath and can feel energy crackling in the room, radiating from the wings, and it is unlike anything he's felt before. Not even Agares could hold a candle to the source of this power.

The door slams shut behind him, and the sound of feathers fluttering fills the room as the wings are withdrawn and Sam and his companion are revealed. John's mouth grows dry at the sight before him.

"Dean?" he chokes out, his knees giving out beneath him, and his memories and humanity slip back inside of him, riding him and overwhelming him as he realizes how badly Hell and Agares and that damned Azazel have twisted him, but none of that compares to this moment. All this time he'd thought Sam was the threat, the danger, and it was his oldest son, the one that always fell in line, who was the true demon in disguise, the black wings are all the confirmation John needs.

Dean sits up in the bed, careful to shield Sam as much as possible from John's view, still so very protective of Sam. John sucks in a harsh breath, fighting down the lump in his throat threatening to choke him, as Sam gets to his knees and looks over his older brother's shoulder and says, "That's the demon that wanted to make the deal with me. Gideon. He promised me your freedom from Hell and a chance at a normal life."

"Sam," Dean says, his voice husky as he blinks and continues to stare at the man, the demon that's slipped inside of their room. "You can't see him, can you? I mean, really see him."

John watches as Sam gives his older brother a confused look. "Dean, what are you talking about? It's just a demon possessing some random man. I say we exorcise him, or you maybe pull your authority over him and send him back to where he belongs."

"I… Sammy… I can't…" Dean manages to choke out as he carefully gets up from the bed and slowly approaches his fallen father.

Once he reaches John he kneels before him, not giving a damn about modesty and the fact that he's naked, his weight balanced on the balls of his feet as he crouches on his haunches, wings held close against his back, the tips of his longest feathers brushing the worn carpet of the motel room. He reaches out, stops just short of dropping his hand on John's shoulder and sucks in a sharp breath.

"Dad, what did they do to you? To make you like this? To make you hate Sammy so much?" he asks, his voice breaking on the end as the tears rise to his eyes.

John breaks away from Dean's gaze and meets the stunned look of his youngest son, the most innocent of all the Winchesters, and the last one to fall.

John is stunned by the heat of Dean's hand pressed against his chest, searing pain erupts throughout his body, his head thrown back and black smoke and ash is forced from the mouth of the poor human that's housed him for the last five years. The body falls back to the floor, convulsing, years of abuse catching up to the shell of the man, and it doesn't take him long to die. John then feels something pulling at his essence, shaping him, and he burns, burns like his earliest moments in Hell.

After a few moments of agony that seems endless he finds himself standing tall before his sons, one crouched and naked on the floor, wings pressing in along the curve of his shoulders, and the other dragging the sheet around his waist for modesty's sake. John feels something twist in his gut at the horrified look on Sam's face and he hates that he's the reason that look is there. He takes a step toward the bed, wanting to rectify this, deny that he would buy the soul of Sam for Dean's sake.

Dean is on his feet, his black wings flared before John can move more than a single step.

"He's mine, and there's nothing you can do to change that. Take another step toward him after what you've done, and I'll kill you, destroy you, and then you'll learn how golems are made," Dean threatens, his voice brooking no argument as he narrows his eyes on the man he remembers as his father, the only father he's ever known.

John gives a stiff nod and looks at his oldest son, his humanity washes over him in waves. "It's always been this way. You always looking after Sammy, protecting him, sacrificing yourself, shielding him, and this. How long has it been like this Dean? How long have you fucked your brother?" John snarls, unable to stop himself as his fatherly instincts kick in, as rusty as they are.

Sam shrinks into himself a little on the bed, hunched in shame, his face bright red.

"What does it matter? You see what I am, and you know I would do anything to protect Sam, so the question is, does that also mean that I have to forget the life I had with you as my father? The only real father I've ever known. I'll make that sacrifice for him if you force the issue," Dean growls.

"No," Sam cries out from the bed, and both men turn to Sam, and his head is held high as he looks from Dean to his father and says, "Dad, I know we haven't seen eye to eye on a lot of things, but I get what you went through, losing Mom the way you did. You've gone on long enough, it's time you went home, found some peace."

Dean quirks an eyebrow at this and asks, "Sammy?"

Sam turns his gaze to Dean, and there's something in his hazel eyes that surprises Dean, and then Sam collapses to his knees. Dean begins to rush over to Sam, but Sam holds his right arm up, his left hand clawing into the cheap motel carpet, arm straining with the effort to hold him up. Sam's body shudders as his skin splits at his shoulder blades, ripping as blood and bone erupts from his back. It takes a moment for the wings to unfurl, flap a little as the sludge hits the walls with squelching noises, and slowly Sam rises to his feet, a fine sheen of sweat glistening against his body, the weight of the white wings something new to him, but he carries it well.

He approaches John, his father, the only father he can remember from a sketchy slew of past lives riddled with horror, tragedy, and always something missing, missing until he was born the baby brother of Dean Winchester.

"Michael owes me a favor. He can grant you amnesty. You can be with Mom. If Dean agrees to free you from any deals you've made in selling your soul to Hell, then I can give you that much. All I ask is that you tell Jess I love her, and I'm sorry," Sam says, his voice a little strained.

"Mary? I'd get to see my Mary again?" John whispers, and then he looks between his two boys, one an angel and the other the Devil. "But what about you two? And this thing between you?"

Sam lets out a snort, and his wings flutter a little. "We can take care of each other, we've been doing it all of our lives. Sure Dean's probably taken better care of me than I have him, but we manage. You don't have to worry about us, just tell Mom we're alive and well and happy."

John gives a nod, and then shifts his gaze to Dean and shakes his head. "All this time and I was worried about what Sammy was, what I'd read about, and it was you. You're still my boy, Dean. Don't ever forget that. There's good in you, even if you are the Devil. I'm damn proud you're my son, you and Sammy both. A man couldn't ask for two finer boys."

Dean gives a stiff nod and then he's stunned when he finds himself wrapped in John's arms, and he thinks this is kind of awkward considering how he's naked and reeks of the sex he just had with his brother. Still, hugs in the Winchester family are rare, so he sucks it up because John doesn't seem to mind that much.

John pulls back and then his arms are around Sam, and when he pulls back, Sam says, "Don't blame yourself Dad. You did good by us, even if I was too much of a stubborn bastard to admit it before. I love you, and you tell Mom that we miss her. And don't feel guilty. I chose this."

"Dad," Dean says, and John turns to face his oldest son, sees the worry, fear of judgment, and affection swimming in those green eyes, but there is no sign of shame from his oldest son, and really, who is he to judge? Before becoming a demon he was just a man, his sons were once angels.

"I'm gonna miss you boys," John says by way of reassurance and a reply.

Dean gives him a small smile and a nod, and Sam watches as Dean directs their father to his knees. John kneels and Dean places his hand atop their father's head, and then his deep, coaxing voice fills the air, carrying with it authority, and Dean's words make the hair on the back of Sam's neck stand on end.

"The Lord is your shepherd, you shall not want. He maketh you to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth you beside the still waters. He restoreth your soul: he leadeth you in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you will fear no evil: for He is with thee; His rod and His staff they comfort you. He preparest a table before you in the presence of your enemies: He anointest your head with oil, your cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow you all the days of your life: and you will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Your sins absolved, your soul now free, I grant you absolution and forgiveness. Goodbye Dad."

John blinks back tears as he feels something lifted from him, warmth filling through him, tears slipping down his face as light fills the room and his boys fade from view, but this is it, his journey has come to it's end, and he's found his peace, can feel Mary waiting on him, and he's ready to go home.

Sam tears his gaze away from the blinding light that surrounds his father and in a rush of wind he opens his eyes, blinking against the near blinding aftershocks and stumbles his way over to Dean.

Dean is on his knees, his wings wrapped around him as his body trembles. Sam slips into his brother's wing's embrace, his own white wings flaring to surround Dean's pitch-black wings. His arms wrap around Dean, and he pulls his brother against his chest, his fingers running through Deans short, soft hair, rocking them back and forth as he whispers, "He's free now, Dean."

Dean looks up, his green eyes bright with sorrow, as he forcefully wipes away his tears with a rough hand. "Dad's free, but what about us? What about you? You fell Sammy. There's no undoing that."

"I fell for you, Dean, and I'm okay with that, just as I was okay when I suggested being born in human form to be your guardian. Heaven is a lonely and quiet place without you. I'd rather have this," Sam says.

Dean gives a stiff nod, squares his shoulders, throws his head back, gritting his teeth as his wings recede into his back. A moment later Sam follows his lead, unsure of how he knows how to do this, but apparently his body knows more at this point than his head.

They're both breathing heavily as the skin over their shoulder blades reknits itself. It takes them a moment to catch their breaths, their arms still around each other. Dean begins to mouth against Sam's neck, nuzzling his nose at the hollow of Sam's throat, and Sam moans, and Dean sighs.

"I can hear that freakishly large brain of yours at work," Dean says with a groan, and then with a huff he says, "Look, we'll worry about explaining this Bobby, dealing with that ass Michael and killing that son of a bitch Agares when the time comes, right now I have you, that's all that matters. Everything else can fucking wait for now."

And for once Sam finds that he has no problem agreeing with Dean, but it's just this once. Sam smiles as Dean's mouth works it's way up his jaw until their lips meet, and then their tongues are lashing, curling, dancing and sparring.

This is what's been missing for so long. The nights have always been so long, now there is the feeling that he's come home, feeling no longer alone, and there's the promise of waking in the night to find the other one there, and not gone away. Dean is in his arms, and it doesn't matter how much time has passed since the last time they saw each other, when he wakes Dean will be there, and it will be like that for the rest of their existence. Of that there is no doubt in Sam's mind.

End.

Author's Notes: Dean adlibs the Shepherd's Prayer, Psalm 23, from the King James Bible, when he sets John's soul free. It's basically acknowledging John as a righteous man, and showing Dean's forgiveness, and works under the assumption that if the Devil can forgive, then God will also to keep the Devil from trumping him, as it's thought the Devil incapable of forgiveness. At least in my mind that's how it works.

I'm not really sure where the idea of Dean as the Devil came from, but I have to admit, I kind of liked it once it hit me, and I hope this story lives up to the previews I let slip, and to the expectations of johnsgillygirl who won me through Sweet Charity. Darlin' I know it wasn't exactly what you expected, but blame the muse. She virtually held me hostage, and I barely managed to adlib that quote in there at the end! *wink, wink* Hope you enjoyed! And don't forget to review!

-Cassie