Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3309203.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Wincest, Weecest_-_Relationship, Jessica_Moore/Sam_Winchester
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-02-08 Chapters: 2/? Words: 1907
****** Collide with the Sky ******
by 69inthe67impala
Summary
     Album-based fic. I choose an album and build a piece of fiction
     around the title of the album and titles of the songs. The title of
     the album is the title of the fic and the song titles are chapters.
     This particular one is based off of:
     Pierce the Veil - Collide with the Sky
***** May These Noises Startle You In Your Sleep Tonight *****
                         If you wanted to set me free
                   Why the fuck wouldn't you say something?
                        See, I was just over seventeen
                         Made of poison, cave in free.
                        Oh no, please, don't abandon me
                         Mother, father, I love you so
                      But this is just me disguised as me
                      I'm the killer who burned your home
                                   This home
                          What the fuck is this home?

Stanford, California. They had driven through the state once or twice before
but never stayed long. It was nice. Driving along the coast was always an
experience with a spectacular view, and that ocean. The long outstretch of blue
that faded into a lighter or darker shade depending on the time of day made it
seem like the only prison someone could keep themselves in was their mind.
There was promise that there was something always over that horizon. The sun
didn't always have to set. He could chase it if he wanted.
Dean would have loved it, he thought. He could practically hear the rumble of
the Impala, and if he listened hard enough, that sound would gently crash with
the waves rolling onto shore. He wouldn't talk about how beautiful it was. He'd
park on the high way shoulder and sit on the hood. He'd crack two beers and
hand one over to him. He'd sip and stare at the shimmering water. He'd watch
the sunset paint the sky orange and pink. He'd stay quiet with a hand shoved in
his worn leather jacket. He'd finish his beer and stare at the bottle as if
coming to terms that it was empty. He'd glance at him and give him a small
smile. Then he'd throw the bottle away and they'd drive away. Dean wouldn't
chase the sun.
***** Hell Above *****
Sleeping alone was hard. It was even harder sleeping with someone and not
getting the satisfaction he usually would from a body next to his. The blonde
hair, green eyes, freckles, and full lips were on the wrong body. She was
softer. There were no callouses. No hints of whiskey and gun powder. But she
was different. Jessica Moore was the promise of a normal future.
Sam breathed out a quiet sigh as he settled in next to her. He pulled the
blanket up a little higher on her arm before his fingers traveled down the
smooth skin, making the small jump from her elbow to her hip. She stirred
lightly in her sleep and scooted her butt back in invitation for closeness and
Sam nestled closer, exhaling against her hair.
"You okay?" She asked, her voice dreamy.
"I'm alright," Sam responded quietly. He drew his fingers over the waistband of
her panties on her hip and leaned in to press a kiss to her neck. His legs fit
behind hers, spooning her against his larger frame.
"You've been coming to bed later and later. You sure there's nothing on your
mind?" She muffled into the pillow, fitting herself perfectly into the bend of
his body.
"I'm sure," he replied and moved his hand to sit on her abdomen. Jessica moved
her hand to grasp his as she turned to face him.
"You smell like whiskey."
Sam exhaled again and shifted to sit up, sending a hand through his hair.
"What's going on with you, Sam? I know it's not school related because you've
never had any trouble there." She sat up as well, tucking her knees in arms and
the blankets followed. "Did something happen? Maybe.. family trouble?"
Sam's face fell and he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Family. Ugh. He
hated the subject, but Jessica seemed so keen on trying to pry open his closet
of skeletons. She usually approached it delicately and let it go when Sam was
firm in his rejection, but he had admit that she was getting particularly good
at noticing the subtle changes when Dean was on his mind.
"Baby, talk to me," her voice sang and reached his ear the same time her hand
reached his shoulder. "You can trust me. Everyone has issues with their
families. Maybe it's time to come to terms with yours."
"Why do you feel the need to constantly bring this up? If I wanted to talk
about it, I'd fucking talk about it," Sam snapped, slapping his hands gently
against his thighs. Jessica removed her hand and let her gaze lower towards the
sheets. "Look, I'm sorry. I know you want me to share, but that's just a part
of my life I don't like to talk about. With anyone," he explained. "I don't
even like thinking about it." He turned his head and gave an apologetic look as
he reached out and touched her hand. "It's a sensitive subject. My relationship
with my brother has always been very… complicated," he sighed.
The sting of memories came back quickly and the pain could be seen on his face.
Dean was the whole damn reason he was here in the first place. He would have
stayed if Dean asked him to. Hell, Sam even asked Dean to ask him to stay, yet
here he was.
"Okay, Sam," Jess replied and offered him a smile. She moved her hand to curl
her fingers over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Let's just get some rest,
hm? We can do something together tomorrow to help get your mind off of
everything." She laid a kiss to the back of his shoulder before she laid back
down, her back to him.
Sam glanced over his shoulder at her and frowned. It wasn't Jess' fault that
his fuse was so short when it came to familial issues. In a life that
systematically smothered him, breaking away had been the single most painful
thing he had done. He stood from the bed and made his way back downstairs,
leaving the door creaked open just slightly in a silent promise that'd he
return.
He revisited the whiskey he had left out, pouring himself half a glass. The
scent filled his nostrils and he closed his eyes. The last time whiskey had
been strong on his lips was when it was left there by Dean. Sammy.. Sam opened
his eyes and took in a heavy breath before he shook the sound from his ears. If
he wanted to hear it again, he could probably call his brother up and hope that
he was half a bottle deep and mildly regretful. But he wouldn't give Dean that
satisfaction of cracking first. He was the one who walked away, after all.
He tipped his head back and drained his glass before he reached out to grab the
bottle, dragging it with him to the couch. He sunk into the cushions and poured
himself another drink, watching it drain slowly until he was satisfied. The
television came on with a click and he turned down the volume to where it was
only a gentle buzz of white noise, something that was subtle enough to draw his
attention out of his own head.
Sam drank until his mind felt as fuzzy as the TV screen he was staring at
through blood shot eyes. It was one of those stupid tela-nova shows that Dean
would occasionally watch despite the language barrier, and the longer he
watched, the more his chest started to cramp. He dug his hand into his pocket
and withdrew his phone, flipping it open and scrolling through the numbers
until it highlighted over one simple letter; D. Sam's focus shifted up briefly
over the top of his phone, watching as a couple embraced dramatically and the
suave protagonist stole the last muttered 'por favor' off her lips with an
aggressive kiss. He scowled at the screen and pressed the send button, staring
at it a few moments after before it started to ring.
Suddenly he felt hot. There was an uncomfortable prickling under his ears as he
held the phone to one of them, sort of hoping that it'd be an old number or
just go to voicemail, but when one of the rings was cut off midway, Sam's heart
all but stopped.
Silence.
Sam cleared his throat and pulled his phone away from his ear briefly to check
if the call was still connected.
"D-Dean?" he asked, voice hushed as he looked towards the stairs quickly.
"Heya, Sammy."
Sam's eyes closed immediately as Dean's voice rang through his head. It had
been years since he had heard the slow drawl of the tire on gravel rumble of
his brother's voice. Quick flashes of Dean's smile from the driver's seat of
the Impala crept behind his eye lids and he had to bring his hand up to will
them away with a rough press. Summers, Falls, quiet nights gazing up at the
stars with a symphony of crickets as their soundtrack. His chest ached and
heaved a shaky sigh.
"Why haven't you called me, Jerk?" Sam gave a nervous laugh and expected a
quick retort of 'bitch' right back at him, but he was met with another bout of
silence.
"You know why, Sam," Dean finally spoke. Sam's shoulders slumped and he dragged
his teeth with a little more force over his bottom lip. It was hard to swallow.
His breathing became uneven.
"You knew I had to leave, Dean. You could have stopped me," Sam trailed off
before he brought a hand to cover his mouth, his eyes glassy.
"I know it's hard, but who are you to fall apart on me?" Dean questioned. Sam
could hear his brother shifting the phone in his grasp. He must have been lying
down. "You walked out on me."
"You didn't want to stop me," Sam managed. "I asked you to stop me. I didn't
want to leave you, I just wanted something more."
"Something I couldn't give you."
"The consequence was if I leave I'm alone, but what's the difference when you
beg for love?"
"Sam, please.."
Sam tried his damnedest to hold back tears, though one from each eye managed to
escape. He held his breath for a few moments to dispel sobbing. Years later and
Sam was still crying, still desperate to have Dean want him just as badly as he
wanted him. It was sick.
"What we did was wrong. You have to move on to someone else. Someone normal. A
nice girl or boy, or whatever. Just not me," Dean suggested quietly, though his
voice was rougher than usual, like he had just gargled with vinegar.
"I met a girl, you know," Sam started, sniffling as he took a quick breath.
"She never looked so alone." Jessica was a strange type of sweet, like sugar
water in your mouth, lukewarm. "She tied a cherry stem with her tongue for me.
We fell in love, but now we're both alone," he spoke with a forced laugh,
leaning back on the sofa with a deflated posture. "She's almost you. Same
birthday and everything."
"I can't do this, Sammy," Dean sighed. Sam could almost see him pinching the
bridge of his nose. He could see the defeat on his face and the set frown that
caused lines between his eyebrows. He could almost hear the pain. "I can't. I'm
sorry."
There was a click on the other end and Sam sat there, staring at the ceiling
almost in disbelief. Same conversation. Same ending. He finally shut his phone
and laid it on his lap, letting the rejection fester further.
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