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Dean was lying on his stomach when he was startled awake.
He didn't move, nor did he make any noise. Opening an eye, he quickly surveyed the room in which he currently slumbered; not really seeing anything out of the ordinary.
That was an understatement really, considering the room was thoroughly protected—with various warning and protection symbols that were drawn on the walls. Some were visible to the naked eye while others were only able to be seen by those not of this plane. Even in the semi-darkened room, Dean knew they were there.
Especially since a few of them were done with his own blood.
The hairs on the back of his neck started to rise, and with it his blood pressure. He clutched at the leather jacket that he was using as a pillow. He didn't need to know the cause of his senses going on high alert.
Because 'he' was approaching.
He couldn't quite explain how—he just did.
As if to announce 'his' presence, the earth seemed to rumble in 'his' wake as lightning flashed outside—not all that much illuminating the room, but still enough to drown out the one candle that was lit—before thunder answered its call, sending an unwanted shiver down Dean's spine.
'He' was here.
The candle burned out.
Dean suppressed the urge to swallow. His breathing steadily increased as the anticipation of the one who came to check on 'his' prized possession was practically at the door. He kept his gaze fixated on the smoking wicker of the candle, and tried his best not to concentrate so hard on the thoughts he was having.
Then, as if mirroring what he was feeling, a cool breeze snuck into the room from under the door.
Gently it seeped its way under the only blanket Dean was covered in, the essence of it slowly devouring every inch of his skin, and making him shudder. It wasn't necessarily a pleasurable sensation, nor was it an unwelcome one; considering he wasn't wearing anything.
It traveled up his legs, caressing his buttocks and back, making his spine tingle all the more as he closed his eye and wiggled under its touch. It seeped all throughout the blanket, making it rise a little off him like a swarm of bugs, and when it finally reached his face, he breathed it in.
Dean let out a whimpering breath as 'he' warmed his insides; the two of them becoming one in a spiritual—yet somehow biological—manner. It was bizarre to say the least, seeing as it both excited yet terrified him at the same time. Dean was suddenly fully aware of every aspect of himself that made him tick; from his circulatory system, to the motions of his lungs, the subtle twisting of his stomach, and the beating of his heart.
"I love the way you squirm underneath me…" 'He' said in a low, ethereal voice. The mist continued to envelope him, the blanket still moving around Dean's body as he kept on breathing in and out. He was squirming with each passing second, feeling as if a thousand hands were rubbing him all over. "I can feel every part of you…inside and out…"
Slowly the blanket began to slip off, revealing every inch of Dean's nude form. The mist that had so thoroughly covered him soon dissipated, but the warmth was still there—only it was no longer inside of him.
No. 'He' was now lying on top of him, and kissing his cheek.
"…and every part of you is beautiful."
Dean opened his eyes, and saw the soft yellow glow from the pair that stared at him from his peripheral view—and suddenly felt something gently tug from his neck. The squirming stopped. His resolve hardened to that of fear, and even then he felt the overwhelming sensation that something wasn't going to go as planned.
The collar around his neck was proof of that.
Especially since Sam was holding the leash.
"I want you to know how much you mean to me," Sam whispered lovingly in his ear, as he rubbed his partially nude self against Dean. Clearly Sam wasn't entirely nude, for the presence of his shirts cloth warmed his back. It wasn't so much that that bothered the elder Winchester—it was the thing further south that he was dreading. "You…being in here…protected from those who want to take you away from me… I'm the only one who loves you—who will ever love you." A low groan escaped Dean's lips as Sam slowly etched something with his finger on the side of his arm, the burning almost unbearable. "Even if you do manage to escape, and have someone try to claim you as their own…"
It was an 'S.' Sam was branding him with his initial.
"…they'll see this, and then they'll know…that you…belong to me."
The burning stopped, and Sam smiled with satisfaction. Dean let out his breath in a huff, concentrating on calming himself. Sam seemed to be examining him, as if waiting for his brother to say something—anything. Even as he curled his fingers back around the leash and nuzzled his temple with his lips, Dean remained silent.
"I plan on taking you tonight," his low voice drawled. A few of the symbols that lined the walls gently began to glow, catching Dean's eye. "And once we consummate our joining," Sam continued, raising himself up and turning Dean over so they could look at each other. He took off his shirt and smirked, waving a hand over him. In an instant the anti-possession tattoo that was inked on the left side of Dean's torso disappeared. "That symbol will be the only thing you'll ever wear."