The relationship between himself and Dean is tenuous at best. They don’t talk about Jessica and what happened with her. The circumstances from which their current situation grew is uncomfortable to talk about. Even a casual broach of the subject results in an awkward stilted silence.

They don’t act like young kids in love or anything – holding hands and kissing publicly wherever and whenever. But Sam starts spending the night at Dean’s apartment more than he does on campus.

Sam likes kissing Dean – Dean’s a great kisser. He never says anything about moving farther than that though, terrified by the idea himself, even though he does spend quite a lot of time contemplating it.

It’s Dean, however, who makes the first move. They’re laying in bed together, Sam sure that Dean is asleep when his brother rolls over and slips his hand across Sam’s hip. He freezes, not used to this kind of contact in bed. Dean breathes soft puffs of warm breath against his bare shoulder.

“Dean?” Sam says quietly.

Dean’s finger traces a line across Sam’s belly, and Sam’s muscles twitch. He can feel Dean smile, he’s so close. One finger turns into two, then three, stroking back and forth across the smooth skin.

Sam can feel himself getting hard, the teasing back and forth driving him crazy. “What are you doing?” Sam asks, louder this time.

“Hm?” Dean responds lazily. Then he pushes his hand into Sam’s boxers and Sam has to close his eyes tight, try to get his breathing back under control.

Dean wraps his fingers around Sam’s cock slowly. There are calluses on Dean’s fingers – the result of working in the shop with Mike in the years since he’d graduated – that scrapes and pulls at the sensitive skin. Sam gasps and he can feel another of Dean’s smiles against his shoulder.

It doesn’t take long for Sam to get hard, biting his lip and rolling his hips fractionally into the loose grip of his brother’s fingers. “You can do it, you know,” Dean says quietly, encouraging. “Do it. Fuck yourself into my hand. I don’t mind.”

He doesn’t do so immediately, allowing himself to thrust a bit harder into Dean’s fingers incrementally. Dean makes soft sounds of encouragement behind him. When Dean’s thumb rubs under the head and through the slick, Sam lets out a bitten off moan and fucks hard into Dean’s hand, working himself until Dean’s fingers are catching the milky ropes and slipping out of his boxers.

There are wet noises, like Dean’s licking Sam’s come off his fingers, but he’s too afraid to look. Instead he lays still and tries to get his lungs working again. A moment later there’s the slick slap of skin on skin as Dean jerks himself off behind Sam.

--
At the end of the year, Sam moves in with Dean. It makes sense: he’s in his junior year and there’s no reason for him to continue living in the dorms. He’s even declared a major. Besides, most of his stuff is at Dean’s at this point, anyway, and he hardly even spends the night on campus anymore.

The next two years pass in a blur of lectures, papers, exams and sleepless nights. Sam spends nights sequestered in the library, or coffee shops, to get away from the distraction that Dean presents in the form of a warm body and something that isn’t legal jargon and old case files.

It’s hard not to gravitate towards each other after the first time Dean fucks Sam, the Thanksgiving long weekend of his junior year. It had been clumsy and awkward, as first times often are. But it hadn’t been weird, and that was the most important part.

Dean is supportive, giving Sam his space, but Sam’s tense moods near the end wear on them both, resulting in fights where things are said but not meant, but leave a wound nonetheless.

Graduation day, Sam is grinning so hard that he feels like his face is going to split. Dean is sitting near the front, and is on his feet, clapping and cheering when Sam crosses the stage to get his diploma. Four long years, all made worth it by that piece of paper held between sweaty fingers.

Dean kisses him right there in front of everything, although it’s discreet, and Sam grins even harder. “I’m proud of you, kiddo,” Dean tells Sam, a strong hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Thank you. God, it feels so good to know that I’m done.”

“I’m just grateful I won’t have to put up with your bitching when you’re writing a paper again.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll end up going for my masters and you’ll have to suffer through me writing a thesis. Another one.”

--
They move out of the apartment and into a two bedroom rancher in Eudora, near downtown at the end of May. Sam is furious the day of the move, clutching the congratulations card from Mike and Karen, addressed to him at Dean’s apartment, between his fingers. He doesn’t look at Dean and Dean keeps his eyes on the road.

“You promised me,” he said when he saw the envelope sitting on the counter on top of a box of kitchenware. “You promised you wouldn’t tell them that I was still in Lawrence.”

“It happened by accident, okay?” Dean retorts. “I was talking to Mike about something at the shop, and I happened to mention you in relation to the apartment, and then it was just out there.”

Sam clenches his jaw. “Did he have anything to say?”

Dean shrugs. “Nothing really. Just asked how you were doing, what you were studying. I’m sorry, okay? I told him to not say anything to Karen. I didn’t think she’d do something stupid like send you a card.”

“How did they know that I was graduating, Dean?”

“For Christ sake, Sam. They know that you’re in Lawrence. I mean, there was that newspaper article that came out after Jessica’s ‘disappearance’. It had your name in it, if you can remember. I didn’t remember myself until Mike mentioned it. Plus, I’m fucking proud of you. Is it so bad that I bragged a little bit? It’s not like you’re required to go and visit, make up for time lost or something.”

“I trusted you.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” He sighs. “Is it really that big a deal?”

The drive from one end of the city is tense and silent. The area they move to is populated by a mix of families with young children and young professionals. Everyone is nice and friendly, and they fit into their neighborhood almost seamlessly.

At the peak of summer, Sam and Dean throw a neighborhood barbeque, inviting all of their neighbors on either side and across the street and extending the invitation. It’s a good turnout, a nice little getting-to-know-you party. Dean mans the grill while Sam works the social circle, welcoming people and herding children around the backyard by chasing them, growling like a monster, their high pitched screams cutting through the general hum of voices.

Sam is talking to one of the girls sharing the house across the road when Dean finds a second to pull himself away from the grill. Her name is Cassie, and she’s smiling at Sam with interest when Dean bumps against Sam’s shoulder.

“Hi,” Dean says, extending his hand. “I’m Dean.”

She flushes, a soft pink that barely diffuses through the light coffee color of her skin. “Cassie. Sorry. I didn’t mean to –“

“It’s fine,” Sam interjects, elbowing Dean playfully in the ribs. “He gets like that.”

“So you said you share the house across the road?”

She nods. “Yeah, my roommate is Meg,” she indicates a blond girl talking to a tall man supporting a little girl on his hip across the yard. “Not ready to own, but it’s the best location for both of us, in regards to work.” She tucks a strand of her curly dark hair behind one ear.

“Makes sense,” Sam says. Dean observes the conversation, but his interest is elsewhere. “When Meg is free, you should bring her by to say hello.” He smiles warmly, and another soft flush colors Cassie’s cheeks.

“Yeah, for sure. Nice meeting you Dean.”

It’s much later once everyone has gone home, the backyard dark and smelling of the residual stench of charred meat. An overall success.

“What are you thinking?” Dean asks, bringing a cold beer out to Sam, and collapsing into the lawn chair next to his brother.

“You remember Jess, right?” Sam asks and Dean pauses, beer halfway to his lips.

“How could I forget that?”

Sam sighs and turns his head lazily in Dean’s direction. He takes a sip of his beer. “I was just thinking, talking to Cassie, about how it felt. That night with Jessica, to have that kind of power; having someone’s life in your hands like that.”

“Kind of backfired on you there, didn’t it, genius?”

“That was an accident. But I mean the adrenalin rush? All I could think about while I was talking to her was how I want to do it again. Something I’ve been thinking about a lot, to be honest.”

Dean blinks. “Are you telling me that you want to murder someone?”

Sam shrugs an indifferent shoulder.

“Back the crazy truck up, Sam. You’re talking about intentionally taking a human life. This isn’t some fucking kinky sex accident like last time. This is premeditated! You just finished studying law for Christ’s sake! What if you get caught?”

“What if we get caught, you mean.”

Dean flounders. “I do not fucking think so.”

“You helped me last time!”

“Hide a body, not actually participate in the murder.”

“That’s aiding after the fact, Dean. That makes you just as guilty as me.”

Dean stands up, and strides across the yard. “I can’t believe we’re even fucking having this conversation.” He pauses, breathing heavily. “What are you going to do with the body, hmm, Sam? We’re not gonna drive around Lawrence hunting for empty graves, okay?”

Sam stands as well. “I don’t hear you telling me no, Dean. Come on. You don’t understand what a rush it is. Having a life and then snuffing it out.”

“This is so fucked up,” Dean mutters.

“You’re in a consensual incestuous relationship with your brother, Dean. Everything about this is fucked up.”

--
It takes a few weeks to get Dean to come around, although he’s not comfortable with the idea in the least, even when they’re headed out to The Bottleneck, downtown. He tells Sam as much, but Sam snorts and pushes Dean towards their destination.

“You just need to experience it.” He hesitates. “Besides, this might just be a one time thing, alright? Something I need to get out of my system.”

“If you need to get it out of your system, why are you involving me?”

Sam grins. “Because I want you to be part of the experience.”

It’s not a show night, so the place isn’t packed, but there’s a good crowd, regardless. Sam heads straight to the bar to get them drinks while Dean looks for an open pool table to commandeer for the evening. When Sam gets back, he points to a woman at the bar, long dark hair, petit, tiny frame.

“What about her?” he whispers.

“You’re joking, right?” Dean asks, incredulous. “We just arrived. Come on. Let’s play a rack before we start scoping out potential victims, alright?”

Sam shrugs. “Alright. If that’s what you need to do.”

Dean doesn’t take his eyes off the woman that Sam pointed out the entire time they play. He wins three games, anyway, declares Sam a sorry excuse for a man and then goes to get them fresh drinks.

She’s at the bar, talking casually with the bartender. There’s an obvious familiarity there. Dean deliberately bumps her shoulder as he rests his arms on the bar top, apologizing when she glances over at him. He offers to buy her a drink to smooth things over.

She smiles at him ruefully, catching onto his game right away, but accepts. He learns that her name is Andrea. She’s a single mother – widow – and that it’s one of the few nights she gets to come out on her own without having to worry about her son, Lucas.

Dean buys a drink for Sam and excuses himself, promising that he’ll be right back.

“Are you here with someone?” she asks once Dean’s returned, and he shrugs.

“Just my brother.”

“He doesn’t mind you ditching him for me?”

Dean grins. “He pointed you out to me as soon as we walked through the door.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Does he always scope out potential dates for you?”

“Not really.” Dean smiles crookedly. “Must have seen something special.”

Andrea throws her head back and laughs.

An hour later, she’s glancing at her watch and Dean sees his opening. Now or never. “This has been fun, Dean,” she says. “I like you.”

“I like you too.” He grins, cheekily. He leans in close and drops his voice. “Might like you better if we slept together.”

Andrea laughs, corners of her eyes crinkling, and Dean idly thinks that it’s a good look for her. “Has that line ever worked before?”

“I dunno,” he replies. “Are you going to turn me down?”

Andrea smiles to herself and shakes her head, no, glancing up at Dean from under lowered lashes.
“Guess it must work then.”

“You are unbelievable.”

Dean signals to Sam that he’s leaving as he leads Andrea out onto the street. The air has cooled down quite a bit, and when Andrea shivers, Dean offers her his jacket. “Quite the chivalrous gentleman,” she comments.

“Just luring you into a false sense of security,” he answers and winks. “Never know who you might be picking up in places like these.”

Dean feels stupid saying it the moment the words leave his mouth, considering what he’s planning to do to her, but it doesn’t ruin the moment and Andrea just rolls her eyes.
Sam is trailing behind them a few blocks, and when Dean and Andrea are only a few blocks away from their house, Dean flakes. “I don’t think I can do this,” he admits, and Andrea looks surprised. “No, I’m sorry. I want to. Really. I just… I don’t think that I can.”

Andrea puts a hand on Dean’s arm, and Dean can see Sam gesturing to him what’s going on. “What’s the matter?” she asks.

“I just. I can’t. I can’t do this. Do you want me to call you a cab or something? Walk you back? This was such a bad idea. I’m so sorry. Please don’t take this personally.”

He calls Andrea a cab, waits with her until it arrives. She smiles sadly as she gets in. “Maybe some other time.” Dean nods, but he doesn’t mean it.

As soon as the cab is out of sight, Sam is at his side. “What happened? She was eating out of the palm of your hand!”

“She has a kid, Sam.”

“So?”

“Our mom died, remember? I don’t want to have to force some poor kid to have to deal with that the way we had to. It doesn’t seem fair, alright? I didn’t know if I could do it, either. Not to her.”

“You like her.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Whatever,” Sam says. He’s pissed and disappointed, but Dean knows that he made the right choice here. There’s always next time.

--
There is a next time, and a next time, and a next time again. Sam gets annoyed that Dean can’t seal the deal, and Dean gets annoyed that Sam won’t fucking lay off. It’s not until Sam suggests that they do it together that everything sort of seems to click into place.
“You never did tell me how we plan on getting rid of the bodies, you know.”

Sam smirks. “I was scoping out the backyard when we originally bought that house, and well, I think we could just bury them in the garden. Not a full six feet under or anything, but at least four feet. Deep enough to keep animals from digging up anything incriminating.”

Dean frowns, considering. “I guess that would work.”

“So are we ready? Are you ready?”

“I guess. Yes. Yeah. Ready.”
--
Their first success is a girl named Ava. She’s up front and forward, but an easy catch. She actually reminds Sam a little bit of Jessica. She’s into whatever Sam wants; sucking Dean off and then letting Sam fuck her. It’s easier for Sam to smother her when her hands are tied to the headboard, Dean holding her feet still, even if his eyes are squeezed shut while he does it.

They pre-dug a hole in the garden about four feet deep earlier in the day. Together they carry the body out and dump it into the hole. It hits the bottom with a sickening thump. Sam grins up at Dean from across the hole, and they fill it with dirt without saying anything.

He takes a look around the yard. “Maybe I’ll take up gardening. I hear human remains make the soil really fertile.”

Channel Six Evening News - May 19, 2008

Lawrence Police are currently investigating the disappearance of Rebecca Warren, last seen at Abe & Jake's Landing, a local Lawrence hot spot, on May 15, 2008. Rebecca Warren is described as petite, between 5" and 5"5, long blond hair, and green eyes. She was last seen wearing a pair of light blue jeans with a red top and a black canvas jacket. Any information regarding this investigation can be directed to the Lawrence Police Department Investigations and Training Center at (785) 830-7400.

The bar is full, a Saturday night and everyone is out, enjoying the evening and mingling, looking for someone to hook up with in a dark corner, maybe bring home.

Sam has a table way in the corner. It's dark and secluded, but he can see everything that's happening in the bar; the way that the girls adjust their bras under their skimpy tops to get better cleavage, the way that the guys try and fail to use corny one-liners, heading back to their buddies, egos bruised and their tail between their legs. He sees the way that they push shoulders and rib them for their failure. Echoes of "out of your league" and "no game" floating above the cacophony of voices.

Dean is at the bar, pint glass in hand, looking detached from everyone around him. But Sam knows from experience; Dean is waiting.

This is how they do it. Sometimes on the weekend, sometime even in the middle of the week, they'll head to a bar, a club, wherever the girl they've chosen is going to be. Dean is the bait. Not always, but Sam likes to watch the way that his brother reels her in. Hook. Line. Sinker. They always approach him, casual, shy, sometimes brazenly approaching him and then Dean turns on the charm and in less than twenty minutes, he's got them tucked under his arm and leading them back towards where Sam is waiting.

It's never a one-man job. Sam is jealous and possessive, and the idea of Dean going home alone with anyone besides him makes him want to chew glass. So Dean butters them up, suggests that they all go home together. If their girl is resistant, Dean and Sam play off each other, easing her into the idea. Very low pressure. Most of the time, while still hesitant, she agrees.

Sometimes all Sam does is watch; sits in the corner and give suggestions, directions, as they go at it on the bed.

Tonight they've picked out a sassy little blond. She barely comes up to Dean's shoulder. Sam has already watched her turn down six or seven guys already, ugly twist of her lips that shows her disgust and lack of interest. She approaches Dean at the bar, leaning her back against the rail and leaning into Dean's space. Dean nods and answers questions politely, slight undertone of interest. Sam shifts in his chair when Rebecca places her hand high on Dean's arm, fingers stroking the soft skin near the crook of his elbow. The corner of Dean's mouth quirk and the game begins.

He watches the exchange with interest. Tonight, Sam thinks he's just going to watch.

Her name is Rebecca Warren. They already know this. Picked her out by hand a few weeks back, last time they were here. Researched her. It was Dean’s idea, not comfortable with the idea of taking home women who might have kids the way that Andrea did. Sam, wanting to make Dean as comfortable as possible, agreed.

So they found out where she goes to school, where she likes to go in her spare time, what people are her social circle. Sam is drinking from his glass when Dean brings her over. His eyes are dark and his mouth is wet with alcohol. Sam licks his lips, wants to pull Dean in and eat at his mouth, making him look sexed up and disheveled, but Dean shakes his head 'no'. That's fine; Sam can wait. Wait until this girl is dead, and they can work the adrenaline of the kill out of their system.

"This is Sam," Dean introduces, and Rebecca grins. Her eyes are assessing, taking in the broadness of Sam's shoulders and the sharp cut of his jaw. She bites her lip gently before letting it slip from between her teeth with a breathless sigh.
"Please, call me Becky." She reaches out a hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, Sam." Sam thinks he can hear a very in there somewhere.

Sam allows his eyes to travel up and down her petite frame in turn, and the smile that crosses his face nothing but predatory. "Nice to meet you, Becky." He bites his lip, shoots a glance back up to Dean.

"So, Becky," Dean asks, sliding onto a chair next to Sam. He lets his hand skim Sam's thigh under the table, Sam clenches his jaw to stop himself from touching back. "I was thinking maybe... it could be you, me... and Sam."

Becky rolls her eyes. "I'd have been surprised if there was another reason that you brought me over to meet him. God. Yes." She pauses, and then almost under her breath adds, "Please."

Sam finishes his drink and the spreads his hands wide. "Ready when you are."

Outside, the quiet is startling to the raucous of the bar.

"We'll drive," Dean says and steers Becky towards the Impala, sleek and black and blending into the shadows.

Sam can't quite get over how tiny she is, the way her long blond hair sweeps at her shoulders and the sway of her tiny hips as she trots after Dean. He wonders if she'll be able to handle Dean, if that sharp little mouth will be able to fit around the girth of Dean's cock. He decides that they'll just have to wait and see, and climbs into the back seat, behind Dean.

As soon as the front door of their house closes, Dean has his hand cupped under her ass and is lifting her off her feet, thighs wrapped tight around his waist. He turns her face towards his and eats at her mouth as they move slowly down the hallway. Becky hurries to catch up, craning her neck and biting at Dean's lips as they move towards the bedroom.

The only light Sam turns on is a lamp on the side table. He moves to sit in the plush wing back chair in the corner and settles in to watch the show. Becky pulls away from Dean's mouth, looking over Dean's shoulder questioningly. "Aren't you going to join us, Sam?" she asks, and Sam is sorely tempted to do so.

"Not tonight, sweetie," he replies. "Tonight I just want to watch." He smirks. "Bite his earlobe. He loves that."

Becky does as she's told and Dean's hips jerk forward involuntarily and he quickly deposits Becky on the bed, looking over his shoulder at Sam. His eyes are dark and hot and Sam shifts in the chair, can already feel his cock pressing at the zipper of his jeans.

Dean sucks kisses into Becky's neck, the pale skin becoming marred with vicious red and purple bites. All Becky does is tip her head back further, offer more places for Dean to mark up, moaning and pressing her hips up against him. "Oh God, Dean," she whimpers breathlessly.

Dean growls and his hand cups her breast through her top. Sam can see the press of her nipples through the filmy fabric. "Take her shirt off," he tells Dean, and Dean pushes it up, hands skimming up over her stomach and sides as he unhooks her bra and drops it on the floor.

"Play with her nipples," Sam says next and Dean leans forward and sucks one dusty pink nipple between his lips, biting at it softly and Becky chokes on her next breath, small hands pushing into Dean's hair and gripping. "Holy fuck," she breathes and her head turns towards Sam.

"Tell me how it feels, Becky," Sam says, voice rough and Becky's eyes roll back into her head.

"Uhn." She moans. "God… so good. Feels.. uh... Oh god, don't stop."

Sam rubs his hand over his cock, pressing his hips up sharply. "Undo his belt, get his pants opened," he tells her, and Becky takes a deep breath as she sits up, leaning forward to kiss Dean's swollen lips and bit at tender skin. Her hands work at his waist, deftly pulling the leather through the loops and getting her hand inside, pulling Dean's cock out and giving it a few easy strokes.

Dean hisses in a breath and Sam mimics the sound, working his own belt open.
"I want -" Sam begins as his fingers finally wrap around his own cock. "I want you to put that tasty cock between those pretty lips and suck. Show me what you got, Becky."

She moves, finding a more comfortable position and lands a dirty wet kiss to the slick head of Dean's cock before slipping her lips over the crown and coaxing the length deeper into her throat.

Dean's hips shudder forward and he groans. His fingers tangle in Becky's hair, pulling her forward as he hitches his hips back and forth in shallow thrusts.

"That all you got?" Sam says through a moan of his own. "You gonna let Dean fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, hmm? Think you can take it?"

Becky makes a noise, might be an affirmative, could be a disagreement. But then Sam sees the way that her jaw goes slack and her fingers tighten in the loosened folds of Dean's jeans. "Yeah," Sam whispers. "Do it. Fuck her mouth."

The shallow thrusts of before slowly turn into furious fucks between the soft pink lips stretched around his cock. Dean looks down at Becky, sees the way that her eyes are glazed over a bit, drool trailing down the side of her chin. His eyes raise and he stares at Sam as he fucks this girl's mouth, this nothing. Dean watches the way that Sam is moving his hand over his own cock, thumb catching over the head on each stroke. Dean licks his lips and Sam smirks, spreading his legs and showing off for Dean.

"Harder," Sam instructs – demands - and then Dean is pounding his cock into Becky's mouth.

Becky's hands flex against Dean's legs, fingers turning to fists and pounding against his thighs. She can't breathe, and Dean stares down, watches the wide, frightened look in her eyes when she realizes that he's not going to stop.

She tries to pull away, but Dean's hand is cupped around the back of her head, and he just keeps fucking his cock into her mouth, into her throat, cutting off her air.

"That's right." Sam moans as he strokes himself faster. "Choke the little bitch on your cock."

Becky's screaming best she can around Dean's cock in her throat. Her jaw tightens and Sam can see the moment that her teeth sink into the sensitive skin of Dean’s cock. Dean cries out, losing his grip and rhythm momentarily, before he tightens his fingers, forcing her jaw open again. There are the vague glimmers of tears on her cheeks, but Dean just keeps going, watching Sam.

There’s one last pathetic shudder before Becky’s body goes limp, and Dean is choking on air as he comes down her slackened throat.

It dribbles out of the side of her mouth and down her chin when Dean pulls out. Her eyes are blood shot and glassy; there are finger shaped bruises blooming on her jaw. Dean shoves her uselessly to the side before getting up from the bed and moving towards Sam.

"You want some help with that?" Dean asks, voice husky, sinking to his knees. His own cock hangs soft outside of his own still open jeans. He glances up at Sam before he sucks Sam's cock into his mouth and Sam shoots hot and salty across his tongue.

Sam's head falls back in the chair and he groans deeply, hand skimming through Dean's hair. "Jesus," he whispers and Dean climbs into Sam's lap, kisses Sam's slack lips until Sam kisses him back.

Sam had already spent the morning digging a space for Becky’s body in the garden. They take the body and drop it into the hole.

“Hey, look,” he says to Dean conversationally as they wash their hands off with the hose. “The azaleas are starting to bloom.”

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