Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7263055.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, Bobby_Singer, Jody_Mills, Lucifer_
      (Supernatural), Mentions_of_many_others_-_Character, Spoilers_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      WARNING_-_SPOILERS
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-21 Completed: 2016-07-02 Chapters: 19/19 Words: 87053
****** Ol' Miss Susie ******
by geenajay
Summary
     Sam realises that Dean has a secret. Sam, being Sam, wants to know
     what it is. After all, how bad could it be?
Notes
     This is a story that has been going round my head since I first
     started watching this series. I have set it in Season seven for two
     main reasons: one – it fits. Mostly. If there are details wrong, or
     things slightly out of order, then I apologise. I have a life outside
     as well! So please be aware that there are a lot of spoilers in the
     story – DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED UP TO AND INCLUDING SEASON
     SEVEN YET.
     The other reason is a more personal one – I can address the one thing
     that had me really, Really shouting at the TV, Sam and the
     scriptwriters! We had how many weeks of ‘poor Sam’ and his ‘poor
     friend’ (this is so hard, not being able to write spoilers!), then he
     does something so horrible to his brother with what consequences?
     Nothing! Zilch! Nada!
     If ever, Ever, there is a character that needs to be brought back to
     cause deserved mayhem between the brothers, then this one is it! Or
     am I the only one who thinks that? I’d be interested to know.
     PLEASE NOTE: I write PORN, people. No likey, no readie!
     AND I MOST DEFINITELY DO NOT CONDONE RAPE: IT IS NOT A SEXUAL ACT, IT
     IS A CRIME OF INTIMATE PHYSICAL VIOLENCE AGAINST ANOTHER PERSON AND
     SHOULD NEVER BE ACCEPTABLE IN ANY CIRCUMSTANCE. But it is part of
     this story. Do not read if you are offended by the thought. But I
     hope that if you do decide to read on, then you can see it is a
     necessary part and enjoy the story despite it.
     I have got the chapters pretty well mapped out in my head: I will be
     putting them on as quickly as I can (I know how irritating it is to
     wait months for an update of a good story.)
     Disclaimer: I am not part of Supernatural, I am only a fan. I do not
     own any rights to it (Though I do wish I owned Jensen Ackles – mmm.)
     Genuine comments will be appreciated.
***** Chapter One *****
                                  Chapter One
Sam was getting really pissed at Dean.
He really didn’t know what was worst. That he had gotten married,
actuallymarried, to his insane, mentally deranged ‘greatest fan’ Becky who had
thought it perfectly acceptable to have drugged and taken control of Sam’s mind
to do so. Or that he had been so stupid as to let himself get drugged and
married to her. Or that Dean thought it was really hilarious and wasn’t, just
wasn’t, letting it go. Either way, if his brother didn’t shut up soon, he was
going to get it.
“So what was your wedding night like then, Sam? Did you carry her to the bed?
Did she carry you to the bed? “
He smirked. “Were you a blushing bride? Did the earth move for you both?”
“Enough Dean. I mean it”
“Or did she have to take you in hand as it were?”
“I’ll take you in fucking hand if you don’t shut up!”
“Oh, Sammy. I hope you weren’t that desperate on your wedding night!”
He laughed hysterically as Sam threw the TV remote at him, shielding his head
easily with his arm. “Now Sammy. I know this is just your sexual tension
talking. Did you have first night jitters? That’s so sweet.”
That was it. He’d had enough.
Sam launched himself at Dean with a growl. Dean laughed and easily moved from
where he was sitting at the table in time. “Sammy! You should be saving those
moves for your Missus!”
His laugh was cut short as Sam used his full six foot four reach to his
advantage. He literally threw himself over the table rather than going round it
as Dean had been expecting. Even as his brother ran to try to avoid his long
arms, his fingers had gotten hold of enough of Dean’s shirt to tug it and his
brother back towards him. Dean staggered, hit the table and fell. Sam’s body
continued on its forward slide, the table creaking dangerously under his
weight, and let himself drop on top of his brother with extreme prejudice.
There are many different ways to fight and many techniques, one of which being
universally acknowledged as the ‘Sibling’ style. Siblings can fight like nobody
else: with no-holds-barred, nothing outside the rules, no part of the anatomy
considered, or taken as, inappropriate or out-of-bounds.
They also know all of each other’s deeply hidden weaknesses.
So when Dean gasped for breath at the sudden weight dropping on to his chest
and stomach, Sam simply pressed home his advantage.
“You want ‘taking in hand’, Dean? I’ll show you fucking ‘taking in hand’.”
Kneeling on his chest with both bony knees pinning Dean to the ground, he
turned around to reach for his brother’s legs.
Dean realised what he was going to do. “Sam. Sam! Nooooo!”
“I warned you, Dean.”
Even as his brother tried desperately to get him off and get a proper breath,
not necessarily in that order, Sam used his own chest to hold Dean’s legs down
while his long muscled legs wrapped tightly around Dean’s torso and his left
arm that had become trapped in the progress. As Dean tried to push him away
with his right hand, Sam simply reached back to grab it in his much larger one
and physically pushed and pulled it into and through the gap created between
his ass and Dean’s own body. All it took then was for him to tighten his thighs
and lean his weight back to sit on top of his brother and Dean was all but
trapped.
Sam paused for a minute to catch his own breath, aware of Dean’s hand trapped
and wedged against his groin, aware of his brother’s body caught between his
strong thighs. It was time for Dean to pay.
He reached for Dean’s right leg. Dean was kicking out by now, trying to throw
him off. “Oh, come on, Sam! I hope you played nicer than this with Becky!” Then
he swore as Sam had hold of his right leg without even having to lean forward,
damn him and his orang-utan arm reach, and was forcing it to bend up and
towards him, bringing his boot and sock into removable range.
“You going to shut up yet?” Sam had the items off, leaving his brother’s foot
vulnerable.
“Aww, Sam. I really must be hitting a nerve if you’re resorting to this. It
must be Luurve!” His words ended with a shriek as Sam’s long fingers ran up the
dreaded spot in the arch of his extremely ticklish foot.
“You going to stop?”
“Aw, Sam. I was only playing around.”
“You going to stop?”
“Sam! I!” Dean was fast getting breathless between the crush of his thighs. “I
was only trying to support you! If you want to get married then that’s
okay.....”
“Dean! Quit it!”
Sam swore under his breath. Even despite the situation he was in, Dean would
never give up. He hated to lose. And to be honest, now that Sam had his brother
down on the floor, he could think of something far more interesting to be doing
than tickling him.
But then, he hated to lose as well.
So he attacked Dean’s foot with a vengeance as Dean squirmed beneath him and
called him every impolite name under the sun. And then, to drive home his
point, he caught hold of his other leg and foot, and didn’t stop until he had
destroyed his brother into a wriggling, angry, tearful mess beneath him.
Then, finally, he felt vindicated enough to loosen his legs and turn himself
around bodily until he was lying face to face on top of Dean. Even as his
brother gasped for his first, much-needed proper breath in a few minutes, Sam’s
tongue was down his throat in a passionate kiss that had them both breathless
when it finally ended.
They lay in silence and stared at each other for a few minutes while they
recovered.
“Can we move this to the bed?” Dean asked quietly.
Sam smirked at him. “Definitely.”
He got up and helped Dean off the floor, already reaching to get the rest of
his clothes off him.
“Were you this desperate with Becky?”
“For...! Dean! Enough, already!”
“Just asking.” There was still too much humour in his eyes at the situation.
Sam glared at him. Then he pushed Dean physically over to one of the single
beds and shoved him down on to it. Even as he knelt to pull his brother’s jeans
and boxers away he snapped. “If you mention Becky once more, I’m not doing
this.” And with that warning he leant forward and took Dean’s ready cock into
his mouth.
Dean let himself fall back to lie on the bed. “Who’s Becky?”
Sam felt himself smile this time as he heard his brother’s tone. He knew
without looking that Dean’s eyes would be glazing over with lust and his lips
would be parting with little gasps of pleasure. He let himself relax and take
his time, just sucking and licking, and pushing down onto as much of Dean’s
cock with his mouth as he could take. He wished he could take it all, wished he
could take it right down his throat and hold it without gagging immediately. He
wanted to give Dean that pleasure that his brother could give to him every
time. But even as he heard Dean gasp and his cock begin to pulse in his mouth,
he had to pull off and spit it out before he choked, letting Dean’s cum spray
all over his own prone belly.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Dean smiled at him and reached out his hands to undo Sam’s outer
shirt. “Your turn.”
Sam quickly removed his under t-shirt and used it to wipe the worst of the
sticky mess off Dean’s torso. He moved to his bag to find the lubricant even as
he was undoing his own jeans, walking out of them one leg at a time on his
return. “Can I fuck you?”
“Did you have to ask with.....?”
“Don’t say it, Dean. Don’t say it.”
He felt a moment’s irritation as Dean smirked, but concentrated on lubricating
his fingers. These last couple of months or so he had discovered many good ways
of shutting his brother up when he got this annoying. Quickly he climbed back
onto the bed and claimed Dean’s mouth once more with his tongue while his
fingers sought out a different hole to occupy.
Then he stopped, because something was different than how he had been
expecting. He hadn’t been with his brother for over a week so he was expecting
that amazing first tightness that was Dean. But this was more like.... the
morning after session.
“Dean? Have you been with someone else?”
“Mmm?” Dean was preoccupied with sucking Sam’s tongue out of his head. “Oh. Oh
yeah. There was this guy ....”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Sam pulled away from him tight-lipped and sat up.
Dean stared up at him in surprise.
“We’re not exclusive, Sam. That’s the rules you insisted on.”
“I know. I know I did.”
“Then why the bitch-face?”
“I. Nothing. It’s okay.” He leant forward to kiss Dean again, trying to get
himself back to the mood of the moment before. Dean blocked the kiss with his
hand and sat up.
“It’s your rules, Sam. You insisted. And besides. I thought you were married to
Becky!”
“Forget about her! I don’t want to hear her name again! Not ever! I mean it,
Dean.” His sudden outburst of temper caught even him by surprise. And his anger
made him rough. He caught his brother’s face in his hands and violently
attacked his mouth with his own in a way that would give both their lips
bruises. Dean took it without complaint as Sam gradually got control of himself
again.
“Sorry. I just....hate the thought of you with someone else.” He whispered the
words into Dean’s mouth.
“Your rules, Sam. When we started this, it was you who insisted.”
“I know it was. I make stupid rules. And I’m still going to fuck you.”
“You’d better.” Sam smiled at the filthy smirk on Dean’s face and pushed him
onto his back again, this time moving to kneel between his legs and applying
the lubricant to his own cock. Without another word, he pulled Dean’s hips up,
caught at his legs to wrap them around his own body and began to push in. Dean
sighed with pleasure as he did.
Sam had got himself in just over half his length before he suddenly felt the
sudden incredible tightness that he was used to. He slowed his thrust
immediately, feeling relieved, and proud, and selfishly grateful that he was
big where it mattered. Dean had admiringly told him numerous times how big his
cock was, and now he felt a lot better at the thought that these few inches of
Dean’s perfect body were out of everyone else’s reach. They were only for him.
With this in mind, he leant forward to kiss Dean far more gently than he had
just done that moment before. Then he began to wonder how the other man had
kissed his brother. The thought made him forget his carefulness, and he thrust
the last of the way in abruptly, making Dean wince and gasp in sudden surprise.
He caught his breath and stared up at Sam.
“Sorry.”
“Okay.” But his eyes took a moment to stop watering.
Sam forced himself to calm down and wait until Dean was ready again. Then and
only then did he start to gently pleasure his brother, finding that spot inside
him to rub against while he himself savoured all the sensations around every
inch of his long cock. It took no time at all for them both to begin moaning.
“Did he do anything that you wish I would do?”
“Sam!”
“I’m just asking. I know I’m not experienced. But if there’s anything that
you’d like. That you’d love me to do but you’re embarrassed about asking. I’d
do it. You know I would.”
“For god’s sake, Sam. This isn’t the time!”
“You went with someone else. I want to know if they were better than me!”
“It’s your rules, Sam! And I thought you were married!”
“But you knew that something was wrong, because if I’d want to be anywhere it
would have been with you! You know that, Dean, I’d be in your bed! No one
else’s!”
“But you were married, Sam! And it was you who insisted that we let each other
go with other people. You insisted that!”
They had come to a mutual halt. Anger was in both their eyes and bodies. Then
Dean suddenly pulled his body out from under from his younger brother and began
to scrabble up the bed. Sam was bewildered, slightly hurt at the rebuff and
also in some considerable pain because he was still so very, very hard.
“Come here.” It was an order as Dean knelt up on his knees at the wooden
headboard and braced himself against it. Sam hastily obeyed and moved to kneel
close behind him. Dean reached back with his hand to grab his cock, and pulled
him forward and pushed back with his own ass until Sam was fully embedded in
him again. He gasped at the pleasure of the new position.
“If you’re going to be angry at me for following your rules, then you can
fucking well work it off!”
He began to push back with a rhythm, forcing himself back onto his brother even
more by using his strong shoulder and arm muscles against the headboard as well
as his thighs. Sam groaned with the sensation and wrapped his long arms around
Dean, one around his chest, the other going lower to catch his brother’s waist
and hips so he could use them to pull against as he once more began to thrust
in. He felt so intimate, so at one with Dean. Even more than when Dean was on
all fours for him. That was good, but this was.... god, he wanted him so much.
He unwrapped his right arm from Dean’s chest and instead caught at his short
hair and pulled, forcing his brother to arch his back and lean his head back
against and nearly over Sam’s shoulder. Sam touched his lips to his mouth.
“I’m gonna remove every trace of him and replace it with me.”
Dean could do nothing but nod his agreement as Sam claimed his mouth again
roughly, licking into every micrometer of his brother’s mouth. His hips were on
autopilot, settling into a steady but deadly rhythm. He was going to destroy
his brother: he wasn’t going to want to wander ever again.
It still wasn’t enough. Sam forced Dean’s head back further. He knew he must be
hurting his neck and back but he didn’t care. He felt animal. He felt almost
feral. He wanted to mark Dean somehow, to claim him as his own so no one else
would dare look, let alone touch. Twisting his own body with a superhuman
effort he managed to get his mouth to Dean’s throat, to that soft area just
above where the collar bones meet. There would do. He was tempted for a moment
to bite, Hard, but instead caught the skin between his lips and began to suck,
feeling it rise into his mouth with the suction long enough for it to bruise to
his satisfaction. Hard enough for Dean to whimper his submission.
Sam released him far more carefully than he had pulled Dean back. Despite the
fact he was still pounding into his brother with all his strength with his
lower body, he was in now in complete control of himself and there was no way
he would have risked giving his brother whiplash by letting him suddenly fall
forward. Instead he almost gently massaged him as Dean once more leant to brace
against the headboard and just let him do what he wanted to him.
And Sam did want. He wrapped his hand around Dean’s erect cock and pulled him
even tighter against his own mechanised hips with the other. He pushed his
knees further forward between Dean’s, forcing him to spread even wider. Oh god
it felt so good. His brother felt so good around him.
Sam’s lust hit untenable levels. He all but climbed up and into Dean, pushing
with his feet and all his leg muscles with every thrust. Dean lost his grip on
the headboard and was forced to push against the wall behind it as he tried to
counter Sam’s strength and desire. His younger brother was over him, in him,
trying to break right through him. They were both out of control. Neither
cared. Neither could breathe. Neither could take any more. Neither wanted to
stop.
The explosion of Sam inside him triggered Dean’s own and he soaked the
headboard and himself, and the wall beyond. They both stayed in their positions
for a long few moments, completely sated, unable to move at all. The only
things that Dean was aware of were the two different rhythms inside his own
body: the racing of his own heart contrasting to the slower yet steady pulsing
throb of where Sam was buried deep inside him.
He let his head rest against the wood. On top of him, Sam was similarly
breathless and spent. Dean didn’t expect either of them to move for a while,
although he was wishing he could perhaps be allowed to breathe a little more
comfortably, crushed as he was between his brother and the headboard. But there
was no hurry.
He was surprised therefore, and slightly chilled as the cool air hit his damp
skin, when Sam suddenly and decisively pulled out, leant back and took hold
physically of Dean to turn and manoeuvre his body until he was sitting at the
very top of the bed, leaning back against the now disgusting headboard. Sam
used his bony knees once more to force him to spread his legs apart and then he
knelt in between them and drew himself up to lean over Dean, who felt the
intended intimidation as his chin and jaw was caught in Sam’s large hands and
he was forced to look up at him.
“I know it’s my rules. Other people fine, always use condoms. I know I have. I
know you do. But I’m beginning to accept that I’m a possessive bastard, so you
had better had too. I don’t like you being with someone else. So sue me.” This
was all said with a snarl that froze Dean’s blood while simultaneously making
him very hot indeed.
“I’m gonna get nasty. I’m gonna wipe every trace of them off you. If I could
mark you as mine without maiming you, then I would. And I’m gonna do my best to
keep you so sexually exhausted that your cock winces if someone else so much as
looks at it, do you understand?”
He didn’t wait for a response, he just plunged his tongue down Dean’s throat as
hard as he had just fucked him. To his amazement, he could already feel his
cock getting interested again at just the thought of Dean’s gorgeous body
beneath his.
He was breathless when he pulled away. So was Dean, he just looked up at him
but didn’t say a word. Sam smiled at him gently and pulled him down properly
into the bed, holding his brother tight in his arms and covering them both with
the blankets. Dean snuggled in against him without complaint.
“This better than your marital bed, Sammy?”
Sam felt intense irritation at the humour still in Dean’s raspy voice. But
instead of giving a snipey response, he kissed the top of his brother’s head
and made a decision. He was going to let Dean rest for an hour. No actually,
make it about half an hour, then he was going to do everything that he had just
done to Dean all over again. Everything except the tickling. He was going to
damn well make Dean so sore that he wouldn’t be able to think about anything
else apart from how he couldn’t sit down comfortably for at least a week!
***** The Day It All Changed *****
Chapter Notes
     RAPE! - DON'T READ IF YOU WILL BE OFFENDED.
They had only recently come to this stage in their personal relationship. The
catalyst that had caused them to change from brothers who were partners in
their job, to brothers who were partners in bed had only occurred a short few
months before. And it had been a rough, rocky journey from then, but they were
still together. So far.
Sam could remember that day so clearly, was still so ashamed of himself. It had
changed everything but still, he had to accept that he wasn’t the person he’d
hoped he was. Not the person he should be.
He had woken up early in yet another motel room to find Dean’s bed empty. Not
an unusual surprise there. He had gotten up and gone for his run, enjoying the
fresh morning air and try to enjoy the luxury of his own thoughts without
Lucifer. That of course hadn’t worked: the hallucination or whatever the
bastard thing was had been there from the moment he had opened his eyes.
Pressing the recent wound on his hand helped, just as Dean had told him it
would. But the pain couldn’t chase the Devil away for long.
He had just turned the corner leading back to the rooms of the motel when one
of the other apartment doors opened and there was Dean exiting it. Still
nothing unusual. Sam didn’t really take a lot of notice, not until a hand
appeared on his brother’s arm, causing Dean to turn back, standing slightly
aside and allowing Sam to see the occupant of the room.
He froze in disbelief. Was that...? It couldn’t be. He recognised his brother’s
latest conquest from the bar last night. Everyone had noticed: all eyes had
turned in appreciation at the entrance, such was the impact of the new arrival.
Dean had turned as well, Sam remembered, just to see what had caused the pause
in the beat of human noise rumbling through the bar-room. He had glanced, just
once, at the newcomer that was getting so much attention and admiring glances
then returned his attention and lusty smirk to the two ladies that he was being
bought drinks by.
It was only a few minutes later that he brought his glass over to Sam, who as
usual was sitting on his own at a table in the corner. “You okay getting
yourself back to the motel?”
Sam had nodded, he had half expected the words, had heard them enough times.
Dean had handed Sam the keys to the Impala, finished his drink and left,
followed a couple of minutes later by the two giggling ladies.
Sam had sighed, finished up his own drink, then returned to their shared motel
room alone.
But now he stared as, in the open doorway of the motel room, his brother was
pulled back into the embrace of the stranger from last night; back into the
arms of the very good-looking, sun-bleached, bronzed, muscular man that had
caught all the attention of the crowded bar-room the previous night. He was
definitely bare-chested, bare-legged, shoeless: Sam couldn’t see if he was
completely naked but thought it probable as the man wound his hands around
Dean’s neck, physically drew his mouth to his, Dean’s hands going to his ripped
chest and waist in response as he was pulled, without too much argument, back
into the room.
They disappeared around the edge of the door and it was shut behind them, with
a slam that Sam knew instinctively was caused by one of their backs, and he
suspected it was Dean’s back being shoved against it by a useful method of
closing it while their hands and mouths were otherwise passionately occupied.
Sam let out a breath that he hadn’t even realised he’s been holding in. Shit!
All those years. All those years and he hadn’t realised that his brother swung
both ways. Never even suspected it. Not once. Dean had kept that so quiet, so
secret from him.
“Well, well, well.” Lucifer was here. But for once Sam didn’t care. He became
aware something was hurting, deep inside him. It felt that something had been
ripped out. He felt so, so... he didn’t know what. His run was abandoned, he
should just return to their room and wait, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move
from that spot where he stood. All he could do was stand there and wait, wait
for that door to open again. “Oh come on, Sam, talk to me!” The Devil was
insistent: he stood and pouted like a spoilt child when Sam didn’t even
acknowledge him. But Sam didn’t care.
Nearly a whole hour had gone by before it finally did. This time Dean made it
fully out of the door, Sam could hear him laughing and throwing his usual empty
promises to ‘be in touch’ at the occupant. Then Dean was closing the door
behind him and turning around while fumbling in his jacket pocket for the key
to their own room. He looked up and finally saw Sam standing there watching
him. Some emotion flicked across his face, Sam wasn’t sure what it was: regret
that his secret was finally out perhaps? Anticipation of an awkward
conversation to come?
Dean glanced down at the ground ruefully, looked back up at Sam, sighed and
shrugged. Then he turned to walk down to their room, the key now ready in his
hand.
Sam followed him slowly, he felt like he was in a stupor. That everything he
had thought his whole life had suddenly, chaotically, proved to be a lie, just
this one hidden secret had brought everything down. His brother had left the
door ajar for him. He slowly made his way into the room and shut the door
behind him.
Lucifer was already there, rubbing his hands with glee. “You didn’t know, did
you? This is going to be an interesting conversation!” Sam just walked right
past, he didn’t even try to squeeze the wound on his hand to get rid of him, he
just wasn’t interested. Lucifer frowned in annoyance but brightened up at the
thought of the impeding argument. He turned to watch.
Dean was already in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. He glanced over as Sam
appeared in the doorway. Neither spoke a single word. Dean got the flannel and
washed his hands and face, wiped around the back of his neck. Where another
man’s hands had just been. Sam studied him as if just seeing his brother for
the very first time: his eyes were tired but sparkling; his cheeks were
flushed; his lips were slightly swollen; there were new marks on his neck,
bruises that weren’t caused by fists for once.
Eventually Dean tired of the scrutiny. “So go on”, he said as he bent to rinse
the cloth under the running tap. “Say what you’re gonna. Tell me what a slut I
am!”
His voice was even deeper than usual, even raspier than a usual night spent
drinking. Sam knew he had heard this voice before, not often, but definitely a
few times before. It stirred Sam in ways he’d thought he’d buried for years,
ways that suddenly, definitely weren’t going to remain buried anymore. Dean,
his big brother, liked men!
“Whatcha going to say, Sam?” Lucifer was desperate to goad him now, to get a
reaction.”That’s your stepping stone there. And you didn’t know.” His smile
broadened as Sam took a step forwards.
Dean straightened up, looked in the mirror. Started as he realised that Sam was
now standing directly behind him, he hadn’t heard his brother move at all. He
began to turn to face him.
Sam was on him before Dean even had time to think about reacting. Even Lucifer
was shocked into silence. Sam’s large hands caught Dean’s head either side of
his face and pulled him up to his own, in an exact repetition of the tender
image he’d witnessed earlier that morning between his brother and another man.
His lips pressed onto Dean’s desperately, his hands holding him tightly, then
as he felt Dean’s surprise, felt him try to pull back and felt his lips part to
try and speak, Sam thrust his tongue between them and into Dean’s mouth, with
the renew urgency of buried years of want.
He was aware of Dean trying to recoil, felt him try to get his hands up to
Sam’s chest to push him away. Sam blocked him the only way he could, by
wrapping his long arms around Dean’s upper body and holding him physically
tightly to his own, effectively crushing his brother’s hands between their two
bodies and allowing him no space for leverage.
His tongue continued to delve into Dean’s mouth, thrusting and exploring every
part that his own long tongue could reach. He had always wondered how his
brother would taste: of leather and gun-oil? Or something else? And now,
despite his brother trying desperately to break his hold on him, he could taste
him beneath the mint of the toothpaste. Dean tasted so good, Sam had always
known he would. He needed to tell him how good he tasted. He pulled his tongue
out of his brother’s mouth enough for him to be able to speak while still
tasting his face and lips.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you? Do you? How many nights I’ve jerked off
to fantasies about you? What fantasies I’ve had about you and me? I knew you’d
taste good, I knew you’d feel good. Oh god, you taste good.
And I’ve never dared. Never. Even to say anything. Because you’re not
interested in men, never given any indication that you’re anything but
straight. And I know I’m your brother, but if I’d thought, just once, perhaps I
could get you really drunk...perhaps there might be a chance. But no. Because
Dean’s straight! One hundred per cent!
And there you are. With him! Do you know what that’s doing to me? Do you?” he
had managed to get one hand up to Dean’s face and was tilting it up, forcing
Dean to look up at him, all the time not breaking his tight hold on his body.
Dean hissed at him in panic. “Sam! Stop this! You’re my brother!”
Then Sam was kissing him again, forcing his tongue back into his mouth,
desiring that taste, Dean’s taste: unique, earthy, incredibly sexy, better than
he’d ever imagined. And he had imagined. So many times over so many nights over
so many years.
Lucifer couldn’t contain himself. “Oh Sam. This I never imagined! You are such
a freak!” Sam wasn’t even aware of him anymore. All that mattered to him was
telling Dean all the things that he had always wanted to.
Even as Dean struggled to get free of his arms, Sam suddenly managed to get his
large hands down to his brother’s ass. He caressed the perfect pertness for a
moment, then reached down to grab Dean’s jeaned-covered thighs, taking tight
hold of each and pulling them both up suddenly. Dean had finally got his arms
free, but had no choice but to throw them around Sam’s neck to stop himself as
he began to fall backwards, his head hurtling dangerously towards the tiled
wall behind him. Then Sam had lifted him up bodily, catching Dean’s legs and
wrapping them around his taller body as he turned, and with a couple of long
strides, deposited Dean on the nearest bed in the main room, falling physically
on top of him, using his body weight to pin Dean down to the mattress.
“Shit, Sam. Stop this!” But Sam used the chance to get his tongue back into
Dean’s mouth, probing and tasting his brother’s mouth again, licking at the
back of his throat, using his weight and on top position to his advantage.
Dean was desperate now, trying to wriggle and squirm free, but strangely
without headbutting, biting or doing anything too violent against Sam. Perhaps
he thought his little brother was being possessed somehow, or, which had been
the case in too many instances, under a spell of some sort. Sam moaned as he
privately agreed with this supposition, he felt he had been under Dean’s spell
for most of his life. But as Dean managed to get his hands to Sam’s chest and
finally got enough leverage to begin to push him off, Sam knew he had to act.
Pushing his full weight deliberately down into Dean’s chest, he grabbed for his
brother’s hands as they scrabbled to get him off and try to get a breath. He
knew he was crushing Dean and it would be painful for him, but it would only be
until he had managed to seize his wrists and hold them tight in his own larger
hands, pushing Dean back down into the mattress. Then he finally found a use
for his larger, wider body: by simply clenching his shoulders together he
caught Dean’s chest between them, holding Dean in position against himself as
Sam lifted up momentarily to twist and force his brother’s arms and hands
behind and beneath his own body so that when Sam pushed down once more with his
entire body weight, Dean’s hands were trapped beneath himself, beneath the
combined weight of them both.
Sam knew he must be hurting Dean, must have come close to ripping Dean’s
shoulders out of their sockets but he was past caring. All he wanted was to
taste him, to feel him, to fuck him. That’s all he had ever wanted, and now he
was so close. He fought for Dean’s mouth again with his own, felt a moment of
fear as Dean’s teeth angrily closed around his probing tongue, almost mentally
heard his brother thinking about biting through it, but instead he contained
his anger, probably still concerned that Sammy wasn’t in control of his own
body.
Instead he tried to break free from Sam’s body on top of his by twisting and
struggling beneath him. The fire in Sam’s groin got worse, he was already so
hard, had been ever since he realised his brother was in bed with another man,
and now Dean’s unintentional and desperate thrusting as he tried to break Sam’s
hold on him, just took his younger brother completely over the edge of reason.
Any last remnants of self-control dissipated from Sam’s mind, years of
undisclosed lust simply overpowered any last sense that he was acting
disgustingly in regards to his own brother.
Still using his weight to pin him to the bed, Sam began to loosen Dean’s
clothing from his waist down, fumbling to undo his belt, almost ripping the
buttons in the tight jeans in his desire to get at the flesh beneath, pushing
his hand down the waist band of Dean’s boxers, sighing with moans of pleasure
at the feel and the warmth.
“Sam! Sam! Stop this!”
“You’re going to! You’re really going to! Oh Sam. You so belong back in Hell
with me!” But Lucifer wasn’t quite so gleeful: there was a line being crossed
here too far for even his taste.
By this time Sam was hooking Dean’s right leg with his left arm and forcing it
up away from the bed, while pressing down deliberately and painfully with his
weight on Dean’s chest. He could feel his brother gasp, feel him struggle once
again to breathe, but it meant that he had to stop fighting Sam momentarily,
giving the younger man the chance to pull down the offending garments and pull
them right off the leg still hooked up over Sam’s arm, leaving Dean naked and
exposed beneath him.
Dean quietened suddenly, but Sam could still feel his heart beating wildly
beneath him even through all their combined clothes.”Sam? Sam.” Dean was
forcing himself to be calm, rational. “Sam. Listen to me. Listen. I don’t know
what’s going on, or what’s taken you, but you have to get back in control of
your body. You have to get in control of yourself, Sam”
“I am in control!” Sam almost snapped at him, his eyes already on his brother’s
limp cock, willing it to come to life for him. Perhaps if he used his mouth? “I
have wanted you and wanted you. Dreamt about you for night after night. And you
go off with that prick? If you want cock, then I’m here, Dean. I’ve always been
here, desperate for you to notice that I will do anything you want!”
“Sam...” and then Dean hissed and arched as Sam pushed his left index finger up
inside him. Both brothers froze for a minute: Dean in sheer disbelief at what
was happening, and Sam, just because of the sensation of tightness and warmth
and being so close to everything he had always wanted. He pushed it in as far
as he could go, feeling how Dean’s muscles contracted and stretched around it
as he once again tried to get out from beneath Sam’s dead weight on him,
feeling the slickness still there from Dean’s activities the previous night.
Lucifer just fell completely silent: he retreated to a corner and just watched.
Or perhaps he wasn’t even there at all. Sam didn’t care. He didn’t matter any
more. This right now was all the reality he wanted, all he had ever wanted.
Desire was now as hot in Sam as his cock was. He had to do this, no matter
what, had to feel what Dean felt like around him, deal with the consequences
after. His mind went into overdrive, trying to remember all the information
he’d ever read, visualised all the gay porn he’d ever seen – what should he be
doing? How could he make this good for Dean as well? He wanted him to enjoy it,
to declare his love, declare his lust for Sam, ask for it again, demand it from
him as well.
Lube! He needed lubricant. Where would some be? His gaze dropped to Dean’s
upper body, he was still fully clothed above the waist, right down to his heavy
leather jacket. Sam began to search his brother’s pockets – Dean surely must
carry some in case of nights like last night. He smiled to himself as he felt
the small tube nestled in Dean’s inside pocket. Again he used his weight to
crush his brother into the mattress while he got both of his hands free enough
to pull his sweatpants and own boxers down, tip the contents of the bottle into
one hand and spread it thickly over his own very ready cock.
“Sam. Please. Don’t do this!” he could hear Dean struggling for breath, hear
the crack in his voice as he begged now, begged Sam to stop. Instead Sam
grabbed for his ass, oh god, how could it just fit so perfectly in his hands,
forced Dean to raise his hips up, lined himself up to the hole that he had just
explored, a perfect, tight hole just like he had always known it would be, and
slowly, slowly pushed his cock into his brother’s body.
He moaned loudly, all but collapsed onto his brother, buried his head into
Dean’s neck. Oh god, it felt so....Warmth, and tightness, and slickness, and
everything moving around him, and oh he was never going to leave. He pushed all
the way in, not even listening to Dean’s swearing and vitriol against him, all
he was aware of was the sensations around his cock, all that mattered was
there, around his long inches of flesh now buried all the way into his
brother’s perfect, perfect body.
“Dean! He gasped, he felt as breathless as he was forcing his brother to be.
“Let me do this to you every night. I’ll make it so good for you, I’ll make it
the best you’ve had, I promise. Oh god, you feel so good.”
Then he was up on his biceps, still holding Dean down but thrusting, forcing in
as far as he could go every time, savouring every sensation, letting himself
moan, fighting to get inside his brother’s mouth again, desperate to praise
him, to let him know how wonderful he was and how fantastic he felt and tasted,
and Dean was angrily fighting to get him off and away from him, and then Sam
was arching his back, thrusting with everything he had because he was coming
too quickly, coming with a rush and a roar of warmth and pleasure that he had
never, ever felt before in his whole life, exploding inside his brother,
feeling his cock throb uncontrollably, only matched by the frantic rapid beat
of his heart as he spurted his hot, sticky cum deep into Dean’s insides.
All he could do then was collapse completely on top of Dean. His limbs felt
shaky, he was trembling with emotion, all he could hear was his own heart
pounding. And his cock was still pulsating inside that amazing tight warmth
that he had always wondered about but was even better that he could ever have
dreamt of.
“Oh God.” It was all he could moan, and even doing that was too much effort for
his completely sated body. He laid his head down besides Dean’s on the
mattress, nuzzling into the soft short hair, rubbing his lips against the warm
skin beneath, worked his way round to Dean’s ear and just caught it gently with
his teeth and breathed against it. That was all the effort he could now muster.
Slowly reality began to sink in. As his breathing stilled and his heart rate
slowed, he slowly came to realise what had just happened, what he had just
done. He was afraid to move but he knew he had to. Carefully he raised himself
up and turned to face his head just enough to see his brother’s face.
Dean was staring at the ceiling, Sam couldn’t read his expression. It was a
mixture of definite tight anger and possible hatred, but there was also... Sam
could see tears in his brother’s eyes, and an underlying sadness, and numbness,
and when Sam raised his head more so he could look directly down at them, he
could see a little fear in Dean’s eyes. Fear of him.
All of Sam’s previous passion faded as abruptly as it had begun. In all of his
fantasies about his brother, and there had been many of them, there had always
been willing compliance. Okay, sometimes he had dreamt of tying Dean up and
pleasuring him, or ordering him to do certain things or face punishment, but
the fantasies had always ended the same, with Dean happy to be in Sam’s arms,
shivering with enjoyment, confessing that he had always felt the same, and
being eager for more. But now, here, in the cold light of reality, that hadn’t
happened. And now Dean was afraid of him because he had. He had. Just. He had
just raped his brother.
Sam felt his stomach heave. He had just raped his brother. Oh God, what had he
just done? He had just raped.... The urges came suddenly and he pulled out and
ran for the bathroom, grabbing at his sweatpants as he barely made the toilet
rim in time. Even as he vomited, the one thought just ran and ran through his
head. He had just raped Dean, he had just raped Dean.
He finally found the strength to stand at the sink and brush the remnants of
the vile taste from his mouth. As he tried to replace it with the taste of the
minty toothpaste he found himself listening intently: he didn’t think he had
heard the motel door open or close, so was Dean still there? Or had he gone?
Sam wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to go and check, but eventually he had no
choice but to go back into the main room and face whatever there might or not
be.
It took him a few moments to see his brother. And then only because Lucifer, or
whatever it was, had sat himself silently at the small table and motioned his
hand. “He’s there. You really went for it then, Sam. I didn’t know that was in
you. To rape your brother. You’re sick, do you know that?”
Sam ignored him and looked in the indicated direction. Dean had dressed himself
and moved to sit on the floor in the corner of the room, his head bent over his
knees in an upright foetal position. He looked, well, he looked like a little
broken toy, Sam thought, and his own heart broke within him at what he had just
done.
“Dean?”
His brother didn’t move but he raised his face up enough to Sam to be able to
see it. His expression was now completely blank, almost like every emotion had
been ripped out of him.
“Dean?” Sam took a step closer and caught the flash in Dean’s eyes and the
sudden tensing of his body. Oh God, Sam thought, and stayed in the place where
he was, instead slowly sinking down himself to lean against the wall by the
door. “Dean? I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I.... You can do all the tests but I’m
not possessed. That was me. I’m so ashamed but that was me! And I’m so sorry,
really. I’m so sorry. That was me.”
“Yes it was. All you. Just you. You bad, sick bunny!” Lucifer couldn’t keep
quiet. But he did when Dean finally spoke.
“I know it was, Sammy.” He could barely hear Dean’s voice, it sounded so
wretched and raw. “That’s the trouble. I’ve known since..... I hoped it was
just. Him. But it’s you, isn’t it? It’s you.” He buried his head in his hands
again.
Sam could see him shaking, physically shaking, but he was also confused. “What?
What do you mean, Dean? What was him?” Even Lucifer was looking confused, he
could see him out of the corner of his eye.
Dean tilted his head enough to stare at Sam with a frown. “You don’t remember?
When you were soulless? I thought that was the trouble, that you remembered
everything?” Sam could see him beginning to get angry. “Are you telling me you
don’t remember?”
“I. He. Soulless me, he did so many horrible things that I. Well, I try to
block them out.”
“Well, try remembering them Sammy!” Dean all but hissed the words at him. “And
then don’t start telling me that you’re sorry!”
Sam stared at him in confusion for a moment, then put his head back against the
wall and tried to think back. Back to memories that weren’t his but were his,
to thoughts and actions committed by his brain and body, but without his soul
to guide and control them. And they weren’t good thoughts and actions: it had
come as a huge shock to him just what a sick bastard he really could be beneath
his own high opinion of himself, and he had felt more disgusted by that than by
all the tortures and torments that Lucifer had inflicted on his trapped soul.
In the rare few moments he was honest with himself, he knew he was as bad as
the Devil if not worse.
But now he closed his eyes and tried to remember somebody else’s, (for it
wasn’t him), thoughts, actions and memories. It felt like flicking through old
photographs, old flickering movies that didn’t belong to him, but then again
they did.
Immediately he saw the faces of the poor unfortunates killed because he, or
that twisted version of him, hadn’t been bothered to save them, or in too many
occasions used them as dispensable bait, or as distractions to occupy the
attention of the monster hunting them while he got into the best position for
killing it. If the humans bled to death in the meantime then what of it, at
least there wouldn’t be any more victims. And he could remember the faces of
those he had killed himself, because it was easier to shoot through a soft
barrier of human flesh and blood rather than risk the creature getting away.
Sam knew he was a murderer, had to face it even though he didn’t want to. But
he had to remember because of the way Dean had just told him to. There was
something there that he had to recall....
His thoughts turned to the women. God, he cracked at his brother all the time
for his womanising, regularly called him a slut, but when he, Sam, had had no
soul he had been far worse. He had really used women. Without any regards for
their feelings or pleasure. He had been far worse than Dean ever could have
been, and in the mornings.....Sam opened his eyes and blinked, then closed them
again and tried to concentrate. In the mornings, every single morning, the
soulless version of him had woken with the exact same thought and the exact
same desire that he himself usually had in the mornings: that powerful desire
of wanting his brother in the bed beside him, of doing all those things just
done to the women, and more, to him, and hearing him cry out Sam’s name in
pleasure.
Sam began to sweat as he realised that that other terrible, immoral version of
him had lusted after Dean in exactly the same way as he had done his whole
life. And now that version’s fantasies began to play in his head: far darker
fantasies than his own. Returning to Dean and Lisa’s home, killing her if
necessary and kidnapping his brother, tying him down to beds, keeping him
chained to walls, making him a sexual possession, consent or otherwise not even
considered. And Sam could feel, could realise just how close some of these
urges had come to being acted upon, how close some nights the other Sam had got
to just taking what he wanted, to hell with the consequences.
Then suddenly the brothers had been thrown back together. Dean had been in
danger and Sam, soulless Sam, had been there to pull off a heroic dash to the
rescue. He could have left Dean unconscious in the garage, let him sleep off
the antidote and awake, confused but alive. Could have watched and saved Lisa
and her son, and still keep it a secret. But he didn’t. And Sam now could feel
Dean’s excitement and confusion in realising that he was alive, had been in
fact for a whole year but never told him. He could feel the other Sam smiling
to himself as he pulled his brother back into the world of hunting monsters,
into coming with him for a life on the road.
And then he could see through eyes that weren’t his but were his, on that first
night back together sleeping in the single beds in some forgettable motel. He
could feel himself, the other version of himself, watching Dean sleep. Watching
his mouth. He could feel himself stripping off his own clothes, lifting the
thin blankets, climbing into the bed on top of his brother while putting his
own mouth to those pink, soft, so kissable lips.
He could see Dean abruptly awaking, first in surprise, then alarm. “Sammy, what
are you ....?”
“Sshh” he could hear himself saying as he pressed down on Dean, holding him to
the bed, fumbling to pull down his sweatpants. “I’ve missed you so much. Let me
show you how much”. Then he was pushing his tongue into Dean’s mouth, knocking
his thighs apart with his own legs, containing his brother’s struggles to get
off the bed.
Sam jerked upright in horror. His eyes flew open. He stared over at Dean and
felt sick to his stomach as the memories began to surge through his head like a
speeded up movie reel. He could feel how nervous Dean was now of being around
him, the other version of him. His brother knew, must have realised then that
something was wrong, terribly wrong, but had no idea of what, of how to fix it,
or who or how to ask for help. He must have been afraid to try to sleep when
Sam was around, or even just of turning his back on that version of Sam who
wouldn’t have considered a refusal to be a problem.
He could feel his own, or rather the Sam without a soul’s, delight in being
inside his brother. There were still the occasional women, but it was Dean he
mostly lusted after. And he could feel Dean’s complete despair, because if he
tried to fight too much then he might hurt or permanently damage his, the real
Sam’s, body. And that might mean that he could never be able to put whatever it
was right. Sam’s heart broke as he knew, he knew, without having to see all the
images muddling and colliding through his brain that Dean would have taken
anything, put up with anything rather than risk Sam, the real Sam, never
getting home.
The vampire nest. Sam felt like screaming as he watched himself watch his own
brother being turned: the information that could be gained being even more
valuable to that sick, twisted version of himself than his sick, twisted
unrequited lust for Dean. Even Samuel had been stunned by Sam’s ruthless
callous disregard toward his own brother. But Samuel hadn’t been there that
evening to see Dean, all but broken by the loss of his beautiful lover and
would be son, hardly raise a finger to help himself as he was pulled physically
into his younger brother’s bed. Everything that he had had was now gone, all
destroyed by that horrific version of Sam, and still Dean was trapped by it.
No wonder he had tried so desperately to find Sam’s soul. He had even made a
deal with Death. And no wonder the soulless version of Sam had fought so
strongly not to receive it. And when he was finally trapped and forced to, then
Dean must have finally thought that his nightmare was over.
And today, Sam had proved that it wasn’t.
Even the hallucination, or whatever it was of Lucifer, even it looked stunned.
It, he, whatever, flickered and was gone as if glad to leave.
He didn’t know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, which was to just hug
and hold his brother until somehow that made it all better. But he knew he was
never going to make this better. Never. No matter what he did.
“Dean?”
There was no reply. No response, not a flicker, not a shrug.
“Dean?” He began to try and approach his brother but stopped when he saw the
flinch. “I don’t know what to do. Can I come over there? Please?”
Finally Dean responded enough to turn his head, and Sam’s breath caught on
seeing his expression. Dean just looked so.... lost and unsure of himself, and
Sam had never in his whole life associated that with his brother. Ever.
“Dean?” He tried to hold eye contact with his brother as he slowly crawled
across the floor to him. Dean looked down at the floor. Sam reached his side,
knelt up and gently, slowly, carefully put his arms around his brother and
pulled him close enough to cradle his body against his own. He could feel his
own tears flow as he spoke. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise what
he’d, I’d done. I hated him, all his memories so much I tried to block them, I
didn’t want to face what I could be, well, am. And I never, never thought I’d
ever hurt you. Especially not like this, Oh God, not like this. And I have.
Again! Oh God, Dean, I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t speak any more, knew he could
never say enough to apologise properly. Instead he just fell silent, just held
Dean as tight as he could and laid his cheek against the back of Dean’s still
lowered head.
“I can’t do this Sam.” The rawness, the pain in Dean’s voice broke Sam’s heart.
“I can’t be...what you want of me.”
Sam nodded against him. “I know. I know. I should never have ....well that
wasn’t even asking, what I just did. And there’s no excuse. I can’t believe
myself that I did that. Or that I already have, so many times. And certainly
not to you. Never to you.” He raised himself away from Dean a little. “I’ll go.
If that’s what you want. I’ll go.”
“No!” the words exploded from his brother and Sam could feel Dean try to choke
back tears. He couldn’t believe what was happening, what he had caused, how
badly it had all just gone screwy. He loved Dean so much, but in a way that he
knew he shouldn’t. And he also knew that Dean loved him probably even more but
in a far purer way, because he had been prepared to put up with such a
terrible, horrific situation rather than risk losing Sam, and now Sam was
putting him through it again.
“I won’t hurt you again, Dean. I never will. I promise you that. Never. I can’t
believe I did ...that.” He felt his tears start. “I raped you, Dean! I raped
you! How could I do that? What sort of monster am I? To rape you! Oh God, Dean,
I’m so sorry!” He had brought himself to such an intense state of emotion that
he felt his stomach begin to heave once more. He had no choice but to run for
the bathroom again, falling to his knees out of more than the necessity of the
moment. He couldn’t believe what he had just done. He’d never forgive himself.
Ever if Dean could, but how could he, but even if he managed to move past it
somehow, Sam would never, ever forgive himself.
Over the noise of his own hurling, he heard his brother’s footsteps approaching
the bathroom. There was a creak as Dean perched himself carefully, and probably
tenderly, on the edge of the bath. Sam cried harder, he was so touched that his
brother, even after what had just happened, was there. The urges finally
finished. Sam got up slowly, wiped his hands and face, brushed his teeth yet
again, and turned to face Dean.
They just stared at each other. Neither knew what to do or say.
It was Sam who broke the silence. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No.” He watched his brother struggle to control his emotions. .”No. But.
You’re my brother Sam! I can’t. I can’t ....be that for you. I just can’t.”
“I know, Dean. I know. I’d never have asked you. I know how terrible that just
was. How disgusting! I.... There’s something wrong with me! To love you like I
do. Like I want to. I know how wrong that is. I know! That’s part of why I had
to leave!”
He felt further shame as the look on his brother’s face. “Because of me?”
“No! No. Mostly because of dad. That I couldn’t bear how he ran our lives, how
he treated us, how he treated you. You were never good enough for him. I
watched you try so hard and it was never good enough, and I couldn’t bear it.
And I couldn’t bear how I felt about you, cos I know how wrong it is, and that
I could never tell you. I must never tell you. So I ran. I ran to College to
get away from dad, and to, well, to try and put some distance between you and
me. Like a coward. I ran like a coward, Dean.”
“You’re not a coward, Sam.” But it was an automatic response, almost a response
given to a child’s mouthy ‘I love you’ or to be a ‘brave little soldier’. Sam
sighed and tried to ignore the slight. Because he knew he was a coward. A
coward who had abandoned Dean for four years, not even tried to contact him,
caused him nothing but grief and pain, and now, as a thankyou for still putting
up with him despite all the shit that Sam had caused, done this. Raped him. And
not just once but many times. And still Dean loved him enough to be there.
He looked over at his brother, who had his head down and was just looking at
the floor. On an impulse Sam moved across to him, kneeling at his feet and put
his large hands up to Dean’s face with considerably more gentleness than he had
earlier. Dean let him tip his head so Sam could see into his eyes. They were
swimming in tears which only emphasised their beauty: the vivid greens in them
reminded Sam of summer meadows and leafy forests lit up with rays of morning
sun. They were just mesmerizing.
Sam smiled up at him with so much love, “It will be okay, Dean.” He leant up
and, closing his eyes, pressed his lips to his brother’s mouth. “It will be
okay.”
He hadn’t even realised what he’d done. Not until he felt Dean tense, and felt
a silence in the air as loud as any physical noise.
He didn’t dare look but he had to. He had to face Dean. He opened his eyes
again, their faces still so close together. He was shocked and distressed to
see the tears now overflowing from those amazing eyes and running unchecked
down his brother’s cheeks. He finally understood what Dean had immediately
known, that once the line had been crossed there could be no going back: he
could never pretend to look at Dean and not remember his taste or his feel or
his smell or the incredible tightness inside him. What he had earlier caused to
happen was irreversible.
He knelt back on his heels in silence, his hands still holding Dean’s face.
Gently he brushed his thumbs into the path of the tears until they flowed over
them instead and dripped away from his wrists. There was nothing he could say,
nothing to take the hurt away, nothing that could possibly make it better. All
he could do was wait in silence for Dean to recover himself enough to stop
crying. He realised that he had never before seen his brother cry openly: he
had heard him at night, or noticed the tears in his eyes before he had time to
turn away. It was a strange and unsettling first, to hold Dean’s face in his
hands as he cried with so much sorrow, yet he felt a strange satisfaction that
Dean was letting him.
Finally he recovered himself enough to be able to speak. He looked away from
Sam, he didn’t want to look him in the eye any more. His voice was so low that
Sam could barely catch the words.
“This is what it’s going to be, isn’t it?”
Sam stared at him trying to understand.
“The choice. Either I lose you completely, you’ll leave and go. For good this
time. Or....this. You’ll only stay if....this.” He sounded so drained, so
broken and Sam couldn’t bear it.
“I won’t! I won’t go, Dean. I’m staying. I shouldn’t have left you before, I
hated myself for doing so. And I won’t make you.....I know I’m not being fair.
I don’t know why I just did that...”
“But you did!” Dean burst out. “You will again.”
“No...”
“Yes! Because you did last time! You’re going to do it again. And I can’t,
Sammy. I can’t. You’re my little brother! I can’t do this!”
“It’s okay, Dean, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I won’t ever ask you to...”
“You are though, Sammy. You already are. And I can’t.” His voice faltered and
he jerked his head out of Sam’s grip and turned away from him. “You’re my
brother, Sam, and I love you so much. Too much. And I’d do anything to stop you
leaving. God knows, I have done to get you back. But....I can’t go there again
Sam. And this....”
Sam interrupted him, leaning up into his face. “Go where, Dean?”
His brother sighed and looked down at the ground again. “Go back to Hell, Sam.
I can’t go back there. It broke me the last time.”
Sam almost bent himself double trying to get his face below Dean’s eye-level so
he could see his face, putting his hands up on his brother’s knees to assist
himself. “You’re not going back to Hell, Dean. Not you! Me definitely – I’ve
done some terrible things, this being the worst! But not you!”
“I’m your big brother, Sam. I’ve corrupted you somehow. I must have if you
want...this!”
“Oh Dean.” Sam all but squished his entire body into the space on the floor
between Dean’s legs, squeezing in to reach up to his chest, to pull up against
his brother until he was close to him with his hands clinging to the backs of
each of Dean’s shoulders. “This is all me! There’s something wrong with me!
Always has been! And I can’t blame Azazel or Lucifer or not having a soul, this
is me and I’m... there’s something wrong with me! And I don’t care. I mean, I’m
so sorry about what he, I, that other version of me did. And I’m so sorry about
earlier, I can’t believe myself that I did that. But I don’t care that I love
you. And I do, I always have, so much. But that’s me, not you. Nothing that
you’ve done, not a thing.”
Dean tried to interrupt, but Sam wasn’t finished as his long buried emotions
finally let loose. “I love you, Dean. Seriously, I would give anything to have
the chance to make you happy, happy with me. And I know that you don’t feel the
same and never have. But that’s me corrupting you, not the other way. You’ve
never corrupted me, Dean. You’ve given everything, far too much to look after
me. You’ve given far too much to look after everyone, the whole entire world!
So don’t you dare worry about going back to Hell because you never are.”
“Besides,” he added as Dean frowned and began to open his mouth to argue,
“you’ve got the purest soul of anyone. Cas told you that – that he’s never seen
a purer soul. Yours shines the brightest of all of us. You’re a good person,
Dean and you try so hard to protect us all and that is all that matters. You’re
not going to Hell again, Dean.
But you are allowed to be happy without feeling guilty for being it. And I’m
not saying that you’ve got to be with me to be happy, but I am saying that I’d
try, I’d try really hard to make you happy, if you’d give me a chance to....”
The thought suddenly went through his head, so obvious that he knew he should
have thought of it before.
“What about Cas? Had you and he? I know he loved you. Were you with him and I
didn’t know?”
Dean straightened up and pulled away from him angrily. “What? Don’t be stupid,
Sam! He’s an Angel! He....was an Angel.” His face and anger fell at exactly the
same moment, Sam felt the pain in his own heart as he saw how much his brother
hurt. “Angel’s don’t do that! And I would be straight back to Hell if I touched
him! Probably with all of the other winged bastards after me to boot!”
“No!” Sam loved Dean so much that he couldn’t stop himself from telling him the
truth. “He loves you. Anyone can see that. That’s why we ribbed you so much,
because I never thought that you might be interested back! But....he really
loved you,” he corrected himself as he remembered what had happened to their
friend. “And, I think, you really loved him as well.” This was with sudden
clarity. “When you waded into that reservoir just for his coat.....” He looked
up at Dean and meant every single one of his next words. “If he ever comes
back, promise me you’ll ask him, Dean. I’d step back, I swear. I want you to be
happy. I wouldn’t get in the way, not between you and Cas. He’d.... he’d be so
good for you.”
“Don’t be so fucking stupid, Sam!” Dean was getting really mad at his words.
“He’s a fucking Angel!”
“In a human body!”
“Who had a wife and child!”
“He loves you, Dean! If you want him, I won’t get in the way, I promise you I
won’t!"
“For God’s sake, Sam!”
Dean literally threw him off and stormed out of the bathroom. This time he did
head for the motel room door, but Sam scrambled to his feet and headed him off
with his much longer stride. “I’m sorry, Dean I’m sorry! I’m just trying to
....I’m just trying to say, I want you to be happy. You’re allowed to be happy.
You deserve it. You really deserve it, Dean, you’ve given so much. And I’d love
to be the one to make you happy, I’d love it if you just give me the chance to
try. But I swear to you Dean, I wouldn’t get in your way if you find someone.
I’d step back. And if,when, Cas comes back and he will, cos he’ll find a way,
for you. He’ll find a way back to you and I’ll step back. Cos you deserve to be
happy, you really do, please believe me, please believe that!”
He had finally talked himself out, standing in front of Dean and blocking his
exit from the room. And he meant it, he really meant it. He knew Dean didn’t
believe him as his brother had such a low opinion of himself that he never
would. And that made Sam so angry because he meant every word: his brother had
done so much and given so much, and he still would never feel that he deserved
anything good.
“Look.” He ran his fingers through his own long hair. “Let me get us some
breakfast. Well, lunch. You stay here. Promise me you’ll stay here. Please.
I’ll get us something to eat and we can talk. Try and work this out. I’m not
leaving you Dean, not unless that’s what you want.” He put his hand to his
brother’s chest as Dean started and began to open his mouth to argue. “I’m
never leaving you. And I’ll never, ever hurt you again. I swear that to you.
I’ll try and control myself. I know I’ve failed miserably so far. But. Just be
here when I come back, okay?”
It seemed like an eternity before Dean nodded. Sam stepped away from the door,
grabbed the keys to the Impala off the table and left quickly, giving a silent
prayer that Dean would actually still be there when he returned. He hurried to
the nearest take-out, grabbed a bucket of fried chicken and fries, and a six
pack from the neighbouring store and returned to the motel as quickly as he
could. He needed to take a deep breath before turning the key in the lock of
their door. Would Dean still be inside, or would he have taken the chance to
run? He almost felt dizzy with relief when he saw him, sitting quietly at the
table, looking through his laptop.
Dean had obviously grabbed a shower, his hair was still damp, and although Sam
recognised the scent as being the same soap gel that he himself had used the
night before, he felt every inch of his long body prickle in appreciation
because on Dean it smelt so good, so unfairly good. Oh god, he thought, how was
he going to keep himself under control around Dean from now on? How had he
managed to for so long before?
As calmly as he could he crossed over to Dean, handing him first the drinks. As
he had guessed, his brother opened them straight away and drained one bottle in
one go, immediately reaching for another. They sat and ate in silence. Dean
deep within his own thoughts, and Sam waiting, just waiting for Dean to do
whatever he wanted: whether it be to talk it out or walk away.
“So.” Dean finally broke the silence. “I. He. You, the other you, he told me
that this had gone on a long time, been going on a long time. I. I don’t
understand.”
“It has been as long as I can remember.” Dean stared at him. “I’m serious. I
don’t know when it changed. You’re more to me than just my big brother, you’ve
raised me more than dad ever did. Taken care of me, taken me to school, helped
me with homework, tried to make it all normal. Well, as normal as we’ve ever
managed.
And I don’t know when it changed. When it went from wanting you to hold me
tight at night as a comfort, to wanting you to hold me tight against you for
another reason. But it did. And once you discovered girls it just got worse. I
just got....so....jealous, wanted so much to be with you like they were. I used
to watch you. Want you. I ....just did. I always have. Wanted you to see me
like you did them.”
Dean blinked a few times. And thought for a few long minutes. Sam just waited,
happy that at least Dean was still here with him, he couldn’t have blamed him
if he’d run as far from Sam as he could get. And he was happy to wait. He knew
how his brother worked: Dean wasn’t stupid, in fact he was far more intelligent
than everyone, and Sam had to count himself in this, gave him credit for. Not
the academic sort, but he had far more worldly intellect than most people ever
would. And his thoughts went far deeper than anyone but Sam realised. Not the
glib, fast-reactioned thoughts of Dean in Hunting mode, but his deep personal
private thoughts. But years of being down trodden by their father, and Sam, had
made him reluctant to voice them out loud until sure of them. So Sam just sat
and waited: waited for Dean to sort them out in his head, no matter how long it
took.
“So. Have there been men then? I mean, you say you were surprised at me, but
I’ve never heard you mention, well, I suppose I’ve never asked you. It isn’t
something that either of us have ever discussed. But, well that other Sam, he
would go off with other women even when....but I never saw him with another
man. So. Have there?”
“No. Well. Once at college my friend and I got stoned and we, well, we fumbled
is the best way I can describe it. But I knew then, it made it obvious to me.
I’m not gay, Dean. I don’t want men in general. Never have, never will.
I...just love you. Only you. We were both glad when we stopped.” He smiled a
little in memory. “I don’t remember much else after that. I’m glad we stopped
doingthat though.”
“You might have got pregnant by him, you slut.” Sam gaped open-mouthed at Dean
for a moment. But Dean had finally got the courage up to ask what he really
needed to know. “And what about Jess? Did you ever tell her? I mean....”
“No. I loved her, Dean, I really did. We would have been happy. I would have
made her happy. Sex was good. And we shared so much in common: interests,
tastes, idealisms. We would have worked.” He fell silent as memories that
weren’t fully his flashed through his head. “But, “he conceded, “I can
see...his...thoughts. How he would wake up with desires of you being there
instead of whichever woman. That was me as well. I would sometimes imagine it
was you when we.... No. I never told her.” He had a sudden surge of irrational
anger and unfairly directed it at his brother. “But I would have made her
happy, Dean. I would have!”
“I know you would have Sammy. She seemed nice. I know I only met her that once,
but I was glad for you. She seemed nice.”
Sam caught his breath in shock. “Four years. Four years, and you only met her
once. And then only because you came and asked for help. I should have invited
you. You should have been friends, been a brother to her. Why didn’t I ...?” he
felt himself start to cry. “You’re the only thing in my life that has ever
mattered. You’re my rock. How could I block you out for four years because of
my own guilt? Because I couldn’t bear to be too close to you!
I got you sent to Hell for me! All that suffering, all those years! When you
came back, I used to lie awake and listen to your nightmares and, what did I
do? Instead of trying to help you, I turned all my energy into getting revenge
on Lileth for taking you from me!”
“It don’t matter, Sam.”
“It does matter! You told me yourself, over and over, ‘I’m back. Let it go.’
But no, I had to get revenge. Had to go with Her. You warned me what she was.
You could see it. But I wanted revenge because Lileth had taken you away from
me. And it was my fault, all my fault! And I nearly killed us both. Nearly
destroyed everything. And you were still there for me!”
The tears were flowing freely down his cheeks now, he knew he was getting
hysterical and felt himself beginning to rant. “You’ve always been there for
me! In every way, except from the one that I selfishly wanted. And for him to
hurt you like that. Put you through that. And then this morning, fuck, I saw
you with that man and I was so jealous. I wanted you to be kissing me the way
you were him! Just like you do with all the girls. I so want that. I’ve always
wanted that.
But not to force you, Dean. How could I do that? I raped you. How could I do
that? I raped you.” He had to break off, his chest was heaving with sobs.
He couldn’t believe his brother’s next words. “Forget about that, Sam.”
Sam was incredulous. “Forget it! How can I? What sort of monster am I to rape
my own brother? You should be running as far as you can get from me. Or at
least beating the shit out of me! How can you say forget it? Look what I did!”
Dean threw back his chair and grabbed at him, almost falling on his knees by
Sam’s legs as he grabbed his younger brother’s shoulders with a firm grasp and
shook them to try and snap Sam out of it. Sam gasped a little from surprise and
a little from fear, and some from desire at Dean being so close. “Now you
listen to me! You’re saying that was rape? Well, yeah, I wasn’t consenting. But
to me that wasn’t rape! And you can use your fancy college law education and
your lawyer mind and words to twist it how you like, but to me that wasn’t
rape. Believe me, I know what fucking rape feels like! And that wasn’t it! You
thought of trying to use lube, you were trying to think of me, and your
reaction after? Forget about it. Forget what that other you did. It happened.
It’s over. It’s gone.”
Every word of the last bit was emphasised with a hard shake of Sam’s shoulders.
“All I’m worried about now is how we move on. If we do.” He trailed off, his
green eyes staring into Sam’s with so much worry, so much concern that Sam just
wanted to throw himself into his brother’s arms, kiss him hard and never let
go. But he tried to contain the feeling, afraid of doing or saying anything
that would be the final straw for his brother. So instead, he just forced
himself to nod and tried to sniff back his tears to manage a smile.
Dean must have been satisfied because he released his bruising finger holds on
Sam and returned to his chair opposite.
“So.” Sam had to finally ask although he didn’t want to in case he didn’t like
the answer. “How do we move on? I’ll do whatever you want, Dean.”
Dean nodded absently. He had returned to his deep thoughts, his forehead was
creased, there were lines forming around his eyes and mouth because he was
brooding on something so much. Sam swallowed nervously but all he could do was
wait.
Except eventually he couldn’t anymore and he slipped to his knees on the floor
besides his older brother, placing his hands carefully on Dean’s left knee,
ensuring that the touch couldn’t be too high up on Dean’s leg as to make him
nervous about it signalling intention of anything. He just wanted, actually Sam
needed, to be in physical proximity of his brother, especially as it still
might possibly be for the last time ever.
Dean watched him. Sam felt the slight flinch and hated himself even more for
what he had done. Then Dean also moved and put his hand over Sam’s larger ones
and held them tight. Sam felt tears prickle in his eyes again because that
small act meant so much to him. It was an act of forgiveness, forgiveness that
his brother always gave. Forgiveness that he never, never deserved.
“Dean?” he pressed carefully. “So where do we go from here?”
Dean sighed. “I don’t know Sammy. I’ve never, ever thought of you like that.
But I don’t want to lose you. Don’t want to be without you. So. I don’t know if
I can.”
Sam’s hopes rose. What was Dean trying to say?
“How do you mean, if you can?”
“I don’t know. I can try, Sammy. If that’s what it takes for you to stay. I’ll
try. But I don’t know how much I can. I mean.....”
But Sam was getting up off his knees and perching himself on Dean’s legs while
putting his arms around him. He pressed his forehead against his brother’s.
“Whatever you’re happy with. Whatever. I’ll take whatever you can give.
Anything or nothing. I’m not leaving you. Just let me hold you at night
sometimes, I’ll settle for that. And I’m not asking you to be exclusive. I know
how unfair on you this is. You can go off with your women, or men, but don’t
flaunt them okay? And I’m never, never going to hurt you again, I promise you,
Dean. You don’t need to be afraid of me. Not ever, I swear."
His brother grunted. “This never goes outside though Sam. Never. To the world,
we’re brothers.”
“I promise, Dean. Complete professional behaviour outside the motel room doors.
With the exception of the car when we’re somewhere out of public view.”
He took Dean by surprise. “You’re not actually thinking about corrupting my
Baby?”
Sam laughed at him: he felt deliriously happy and dared, actually dared, to
kiss his brother’s lips quickly before getting off and grabbing his laptop to
give Dean some space and to do some work.
“You kidding? You naked? Spread out on those leather seats? With me on top? My
favourite fantasy!”
***** That First Night *****
How Sam got through the rest of that day, he didn’t know. His brain just kept
telling him to stay calm, keep your distance from Dean, give him space. Just
act ‘normal’. The irony of that wasn’t lost on Sam. He had so wanted to be
normal all his life, right up until this morning, and now, he so wanted to be
anything but. And his body wasn’t helping: every time he looked at Dean it felt
like it had done when he was twelve or thirteen years old: his cock kept
letting him down by getting hopeful every time he saw those lips or, even
worse, those green eyes glancing his way.
But he forced himself to act as he normally would, to think as he normally
would. He sat in the small chair in the motel and worked on his laptop: it
being a useful prop to keep over his lap given what his body was doing to him.
Dean worked at the table. They spoke little other than to ‘check out this site’
or look at ‘www.....’
By the early evening they had found a possible job and had agreed to get an
early start the next morning as it would be another long drive. Then they were
both hungry so they went out to a diner, sitting as normal opposite each other
but this time there was no accidental leg contact, difficult to do as four long
legs sharing the space below a small table invariably and usually meant at some
point there was contact. In fact, it would be ‘normal’ to have contact, but not
that day. Sam didn’t know how he managed to keep his legs out of the way the
whole time but he made sure he did. Nothing to freak Dean out, nothing to put
any pressure on him at all.
It was still relatively early when they returned. Sam had expected Dean to want
to go to a bar, but Dean hadn’t suggested it. He had possibly been awake most
of the previous night, although he rarely slept for long anyway, and given the
events of that morning as well meant he was probably exhausted both mentally
and physically.
Sam felt the tension within him rise as the Impala pulled back into the car
lot. What would happen once they got inside? Would anything? Dare he ask? No,
he’d better not, just leave it. Don’t push Dean any more, you’re not being fair
Sam. They entered the room in silence and he suddenly realised that his brother
was as nervous as he was about what Sam might be expecting. He took pity and
stopped Dean as he was about to step into the bathroom. “Your pace. I meant
that. And if you can’t, then....that’s okay, Dean. Let’s just get some sleep
tonight, okay?”
Dean looked slightly relieved. “Okay. Night, Sammy.” He disappeared through the
doorway. Sam sighed and stripped off his outer layers, settling himself into
one of the twin beds. Dean returned and switched off the lights. Sam could hear
him also stripping in the dark and expected to hear the opposite bed creak at
any moment. Instead he was surprised, and immediately aroused, as the mattress
he was lying on suddenly dipped and his brother was slipping under the covers
beside him, flopping another pillow borrowed from the other bed down beside his
head.
“We’re only sleeping, right?”
Sam hastily turned on his side and snuggled into his brother’s chest as Dean
lay down on his back. It was natural for Dean to put his arm around him, just
like he had done every night all those years before when Sam was a child. Sam
hesitated then stretched his arm over Dean, fought down his frustration at
feeling his t-shirt, then risked moving his hand down to slip beneath the hem
and trace back up the muscles to rest it over his brother’s heart.
He was aware of Dean tensing momentarily then slowly relaxing. They lay in
silence for a long time. Sam couldn’t sleep, he wanted so desperately to
explore every single hair and every scar on his brother’s chest with his hand
then discover them all over again with his mouth and tongue. He forced himself
to stay still.
Then. “You’re not asleep, are you?”
Sam started as Dean spoke in the darkness. “How did you know?”
“You’re too still. Most wriggly kid I’ve ever met. Well, not that I’ve ever
slept with any others, but you damn well never stayed still. I used to wake up
covered in bruises from your kicks.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m just saying.”
There was a long silence. “Do you want me to sleep in the other bed?”
He heard Dean sigh and waited for him to answer. Eventually: “I don’t know what
I want, Sammy. This. All of this. I don’t know what I want.”
Sam lifted his body a little and wriggled up the bed so he could lay his head
on the pillow besides his brother’s. “Turn towards me?” he asked.
Dean thought for a moment then obeyed, turning onto his side to face Sam. They
could see each other’s features in the near darkness well enough. Sam gently
reached out with his hand to touch the bruises on his brother’s face that he
had unintentionally caused that morning by holding him so roughly. “Do they
hurt?”
Dean shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Forget it.”
“May I kiss you?”
Dean stared at him then took a deep breath and nodded. Sam’s heart pounded as
he carefully leant himself forwards to touch Dean’s mouth with his own. Why was
this so awkward, he thought to himself, he’d kissed many different girls
before, he’d been complemented on his technique, why did this feel like ‘make
or break’? And should he go for tongue, or was that too soon?
He dithered a little, just pressing his lips to Dean’s and no more, and pulled
back.
“Was that it?”
He stared in annoyance at his brother. “I don’t want to hurt you again.” He
defended his lack of skill with more than a little irritation.
“You wouldn’t squash a fly doing that!”
“Then you kiss me then! Show me how it’s done!”
Dean glared at him in the dark. Then lifted himself up on his elbow a little to
be slightly over Sam. “Close your eyes, will you. This is weird enough.”
Sam blinked and hastily obeyed. Was this really happening? He felt like a silly
schoolgirl would probably feel on their first time behind the bike shed: he
didn’t know whether to pucker his lips or would that just be too awkward, or do
nothing, or what?
Then he felt Dean’s hands on his face: roughened hands but so warm, so gentle.
They cupped his cheeks and chin caressing them. He felt he almost stopped
breathing when he felt the brush of his brother’s lips on his own, they were so
soft and so tender, far more than he would ever have expected. Then to his
amazement, the warm moist tip of Dean’s tongue ran along both his lips with a
sensuous tickle. Instinctively he opened his mouth to allow it access and then
Dean’s tongue was in his mouth, seeking out his own tongue, probing it,
massaging it, tickling it, wrestling it. All so soft, moist, warm, gentle.
Exactly the opposite of he had himself had been only that morning.
He was so hypnotised by all these sensations that he couldn’t move, not even to
try and bring his own hands back up to touch Dean’s face. It was enough, so
totally enough, to just be in his brother’s expert hands. He had always known
they were expert hands, that had been a major part of the problem, and now they
were finally on him. And God, it felt so good.
He didn’t want Dean to end the kiss, he wanted it to go on and on. To his
surprise he felt breathless and light-headed when his brother finally pulled
away and lay his head back down on the pillow beside him. “That okay?”
“Oh God yes!”
He wriggled as close to Dean on the bed as he could possibly get without
climbing on to him, aware of their bodies now touching together a lot of the
way down. “Can we do that again?”
He caught Dean’s expression in the dark: it was a mixture of anxiety, smugness
and a strange shyness that he rarely saw in his brother. But he nodded and
reached across for Sam again, staying on his side this time, pulling Sam’s face
to his own, still with that same tender gentleness and complete control. They
lay for a long time just kissing, getting used to each other’s taste, exploring
all the different sensations of their mouths and tongues.
Then Sam felt Dean’s hand finally release his face and begin to wander. First
to just his neck, then lower to explore the hardness of his chest through his
t-shirt, gently running his fingers over Sam’s nipples as they strained to
break through the thin material. It went lower, touching and teasing every
contour of his abs. Sam’s breath was beginning to falter now as Dean’s hand got
ever closer to his sweatpants and achingly hard cock. It stopped at the gap
where the two fabrics of his shirt and pants met and slipped through, finally
finding warm, bare skin. First with just fingers, then Dean’s whole, calloused-
rough but gentle hand was lying on his stomach.
Sam felt he could come right there with that touch, but he fought the urge
down. Just concentrate on the kiss, Sam. Just let Dean do whatever he was
relaxing enough to do. His heart began to thump alarmingly as Dean’s fingers
skimmed the rim of his sweatpants and edged inside just enough to start to feel
the thicker hairs beneath. Then it began to pull back momentarily. No, Sam
wanted to shout, don’t stop, keep going, take me in your hand, do whatever you
want to me.
He flinched a little as Dean broke the kiss abruptly and sat up a little. Why
was he...? Then he realised why: he must have just spoken that out loud! Shit
Sam, why did you just do that? He couldn’t believe how he had just done that.
And he suddenly wondered if perhaps Dean in his tired state had momentarily
forgotten who he was in bed with, until Sam had reminded him by speaking. Fuck,
Sam, why could you never learn to keep your mouth shut?
“Dean, I...”
He obeyed his brother’s hand motion for quiet. Even in the near-darkness it was
obvious. Dean sat up for a few moments, obviously deep in thought about
something. “Cover your eyes.”
Sam blinked and obeyed as Dean turned the small bed-side light on, then slid
out of his side of the bed to sit beside Sam with his feet on the floor. Sam
remained silent and nervous.
He wasn’t expecting Dean to pull the covers right off him and to start to strip
him of his clothes completely, raising Sam’s arms up to pull the t-shirt off
over his head, tugging at his pants and boxers until Sam was lying completely
naked, exposed and fully erect on the sheets. Sam felt a natural impulse to
cover himself with his hands as Dean just stood beside the bed and looked at
him, but resisted and lay still instead.
Finally Dean broke the silence.”Jeez, Sammy. Talk about everything being in
proportion!”
There was definite and sincere admiration in his voice. Sam felt his cock
almost throb with the thrill of the tone and sudden pride in his own body,
especially when he now focused on his brother’s groin and realised that he had
just as big an erection tenting beneath his own sweatpants.
But Dean was hesitating again. “Sammy, I. You’ve never been with a man. I need
to know.... If this is just a daydream, a fantasy that’s built up over the
years, but one you’d run a mile from in reality then I need to know. Cos if I
do this. If I. Well, if I take your virginity and you hate me for it. Well, I
couldn’t live with your hate, Sam. I just couldn’t.”
Sam’s heart overflowed with love for his brother. He sat up on the bed and
reached for Dean’s hand, pulling him gently to sit on the mattress beside him
and putting his arms around his neck.
“I am one hundred percent sure of this, Dean. The only thing I’m worried about
if how to make sure that you enjoy it as well. I know I’m not as experienced as
you, but I want, it matters to me a lot, that you enjoy this as well.“
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. Now please. Whatever you’re going to do, just do it. Please. Before
I come just looking at you.” He pulled Dean’s mouth to his once again and
delved into his mouth with his tongue, already putting into practice what he
had just been taught. This time though, he felt secure enough to finally let
his own hands begin to wander, not far at first, but up beneath Dean’s shirt so
he could get to the warm muscular torso beneath.
Dean broke the kiss, removed his hands, sat back a little and removed his
shirt. Sam thrilled as he, for the first time in his life, could openly admire
his brother’s form without having to peek around a book or over the cover of
his laptop. His cock bobbed at his belly button, nearly getting sore as he was
so close to coming.
Dean glanced down at it with interest and Sam noticed a visible corresponding
motion from beneath his sweatpants. “We’ll have to start again, I think.”
Even as Sam began to ask what he meant, the words were jerked literally away
from him as Dean suddenly slipped to his knees beside the bed, leant forward
and took Sam’s cock completely in his mouth. Sam could only moan as he felt the
entire length of himself slip right down his brother’s throat without so much
as a cough, let alone a gag. Dean pulled up once with his mouth, then back
down, and that was it. Sam came. Right there. Right into Dean’s mouth. He
gasped and moaned as the climax tore through him and still Dean took it without
a whimper or any indication that he was struggling in any way. Sam could feel
himself throbbing, could even see the slight movement inside his brother’s
throat. Eventually he recovered himself enough to speak.
“Oh fuck.”
Dean chuckled around his wilting cock and finally pulled off it with a slurping
noise. “That okay?” His voice had changed back to his normal self-assured,
cocky, deep gravelly, lust-filled, incredibly sexy in every way one: he was no
longer worried, his whole demeanour had returned to normal. Now he had decided,
fully decided that he was going to do this, he was going to give Sam the night
of his life. And Sam hoped, every other night after that as well.
“Oh God yes.” Then Sam felt ashamed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t control myself to
last longer.”
“We’ve got all night yet, Sammy boy.”
Sam felt his cock twitch again at just those words. He lay back on the bed and
held out his hand. Dean took it and moved to lie on top of him, his still
clothed legs outside Sam’s long, naked ones. “Ever tasted yourself, Sam?”
“Not for a long time. Not since Jess. But she wasn’t too keen.”He admitted as
he raised his head to meet Dean’s mouth with his open lips. He was amazed
again, and really turned on, as to how soft Dean’s lips were, and how warm and
gentle. He couldn’t contain the moan as his brother began to explore every last
inch of Sam’s mouth with his tongue. For a long moment, all Sam could taste was
the saltiness of his own cum, but then, as he also began to lick and explore,
he got past that to Dean’s own taste, the taste that he had discovered earlier
and already loved. He could never have described it but it was unique and as
erotically perfect as his brother. He could spend every night just doing this.
 Then his cock told the lie as it once more took on a life of its own. Dean
felt it knock against his own beneath his sweatpants and chuckled into Sam’s
mouth, sending a deep sensual rumble right through his body. Dean broke away
from his mouth and began to explore. His lips were on Sam’s neck, behind his
ears, beneath his jaw. Sam could feel his brother’s tongue, oh god that tongue,
tasting and licking everywhere, even his teeth nibbling occasionally but never
biting.
 And his hands were somehow everywhere all over Sam’s upper body, had he got
more than two hands? Because Sam felt like he was being lulled into a stupor
with the skill of those hands. He wanted to reach for Dean, wanted to touch him
and kiss him in return, but oh fuck, with those hands and those lips on his
body he couldn’t move. Didn’t want to. Never wanted to again.
He realised lazily that Dean’s mouth was now following his hands, licking and
nuzzling everywhere that they had just caressed, and he was working his way
down Sam’s body towards his now completely hard and ready cock.
Sam came to a little and his eyes opened wide, already so desperate for that
mouth to seal around his cock again. He didn’t know how Dean could have done
that, but oh fuck, it felt so good. He almost whimpered as his brother
carefully and deliberately licked around the area without touching his cock at
all, except when it bumped its protest against his cheeks. Then his breath
caught as he felt Dean’s chin just at the V at the top of his legs, using his
stubble to coax Sam into spreading them wider.
 Sam had never ever thought about the slight raspiness of stubble on his skin
before, but as Dean gently nudged his way between Sam’s legs, scratching them
deliberately with his raspy chin then soothing the areas immediately with his
tongue and mouth, Sam all but came again. To stop himself he caught his cock
with one hand around the base and clutched at Dean’s hair with his other hand.
It was then that he realised something else he had never ever thought of: just
how soft his brother’s short hair was. He always joked at him for keeping it so
short, just as Dean always grumphed at him for having such long hair, but now
he suddenly realised that it wasn’t only soft in the soft hair sense that his
own was, it was soft like the softest strokable fur, like a baby rabbit or
puppy’s fur was. Almost velvety against his bare skin as Dean’s head contacted
with it.
“Oh God!” He couldn’t stop himself from moaning aloud.
 He was aware of Dean’s green eyes glinting up at him from beneath his long
lashes. “You like that, eh, Sammy?” And then Dean did it all the more but
intentionally. Scratching with his stubble at Sam’s so rarely exposed skin,
rubbing his soft head against Sam’s now wide spread inner thighs and balls with
almost feline actions, and continuing to lick and nibble with his mouth.
 “Oh God, Dean.” Sam was arching on the mattress now. “Get back on my cock now!
Please!”
 “Not yet, Sammy.” Dean replaced Sam’s hand on the base of his cock suddenly.
“I’ve got to get you properly prepped yet.”
 “What?” Sam wasn’t fully sure what that meant but he was quite prepared to
find out. A small part of him wondered quite how Dean could be so good at this,
but he wasn’t going to spoil the moment by asking. Besides, his brother was now
licking his cock, running his lips up and down the shaft, tickling the hole
with his tongue to torment Sam who was past thinking anything other than trying
not to beg for Dean to allow him to come again. But Dean’s grip was tight and
firm on the base of his cock and he knew Dean was in control of everything that
happened now.
And then he realised that Dean was sucking his own fingers at the same time.
Then he was saying “Relax, Sammy. Just relax,” and lifting Sam’s hips just a
little, pushing his legs just a little wider apart and gently, so very gently,
reaching beneath Sam to push one of his wet fingers inside him.
 “Ohhhhhhh.” It was all Sam could say. “Oh Dean. Another. Fill me up.”
 “Ssshhh.” But Dean complied. Sam could feel the two fingers inside his
asshole, stretching him out. For a moment he felt nervous: this was really
happening. Then the moment was gone as Dean somehow wriggled his way back up on
top of Sam to reclaim his lips, still with his fingers inside him and a tight
hold of Sam’s cock.
 “Can you take another?” Sam felt the words in his mouth rather than heard
them.
 “Fuck the fingers. Get inside me. Now!”
 “You’re not ready yet. Gotta be right. Just hold on, little brother.” Dean
shook his head, never once removing his tongue from Sam’s. “It will be worth
the wait, I promise.” With one final suck of Sam’s tongue, he moved away again,
heading back down the bed towards Sam’s long legs.
 Sam wasn’t sure what Dean was doing for a minute. He had released his hold on
Sam’s cock, which still bobbed around furiously but not quite so painfully and
instead was using his free hand to pull Sam’s right leg up off the bed so that
he could get his left shoulder beneath it. At the same time he somehow managed
to get one of the pillows, which Sam now realised he had removed from the head
of the bed, beneath Sam’s momentarily raised hips. Then he was laying down in
the space between his brother’s legs that he had just created.
Sam broke out in a sweat. Surely he wasn’t going to? He could hear Dean’s voice
rumbling up from between his legs: it sent shivers of desire down his spine
worse than anything so far. “Some like both legs over my shoulders, some just
one. You find what you like. Just hold me there. I’ll do this as long as you
want.”
 “Oh God. Oh Jesus.” Sam’s hips jerked as he felt Dean’s long, muscular tongue
lick straight from behind his balls to join his two fingers still playing in
Sam’s ass. He was too late to grab his cock this time, he came again and
sprayed all over himself. But even as he convulsed on his brother’s tongue and
fingers, he became aware he was either still hard or had already hardened
again. His end was throbbing and leaking, but was still fully ready to go. And
as he felt Dean chuckle into his ass, a really filthy, dirty laugh of complete
assurance in what he knew he was doing, Sam could only try and control the
rapid thumping of his heart and dazedly try to draw enough breath to last
whatever Dean had in mind.
 Dean paused enough to comment. “You’re a real blasphemer for someone who says
they believe, Sammy.”
 “Fuck you.” It was Sam could manage to respond with. He felt sticky and
shivery and exhausted, and still so fucking horny at the hands of his brother.
 “Your turn this time.” And Dean pushed another finger in to Sam’s ass,
stretching him out as much as possible while somehow still managing to get his
tongue in as well. Sam could feel Dean’s teeth against his ass cheeks although
he knew his brother was trying to cover them with his lips so as not to hurt
him. He wouldn’t have cared if Dean had champed down and chewed on his
buttocks, he had never been turned on so much in all of his life.
Remembering what Dean had said, he pulled his left leg up over Dean’s shoulders
as well, rubbing his feet against his brother’s back, letting his long lower
limbs fall wide apart, trying to find how to get Dean’s tongue as fully into
him as he could. He stroked Dean’s hair, he couldn’t help himself. Then he
tried bracing his feet against the mattress either side of his brother’s
shoulders and pushing up a little with his hips. Oh, that was good. He felt
rather than heard Dean grunt his appreciation, he could feel his tongue right
inside him, how could just that feel so fucking good? He stayed in that
position, feeling Hot with a capitol H, and dirty, really filthy downright
dirty, and worshipped and enslaved and satisfied and longing to be brought to
the frenzy he knew would be coming, for as long as he could until his limbs
began to shake, all the time stroking his brother’s soft head like it was a
small animal between his legs.
As he collapsed back down, all but sitting on Dean’s head in the process, his
brother pulled back, still with his fingers inside Sam. “You ready to try?”
 “Get inside me. Now.”
 Dean laughed, removed his fingers and got off the bed. Sam whimpered after
him, oh fuck, he was actually whimpering, what had just happened? Where had
Dean gone? Then he realised that Dean was rummaging around in his travel bag
and retrieving two items from it. Sam heard the crinkle of the packet as the
condom was opened. He felt a moment of sudden, intense disappointment: he
wanted to ask Dean not to use it, but as his brother rejoined him on the bed,
already sheathed and opening the lubricant, the moment passed and all his
dreams were happening right here and now.
 Dean pushed him down again on the bed and knelt between his long legs close to
his ass. “I’ve got to ask again. No going back after this. Are you sure this is
what you want?”
 This time Sam was losing patience. “Dean. If you don’t get inside me right now
then I swear I am going to tie you up for the rest of your life and just use
you as a sex toy to pleasure myself on for every minute of every hour of every
day of it!”
 His brother hesitated.”So that’s a yes then?”
 He laughed as Sam roared and lunged at him, trying to straddle his knees so he
could ride Dean’s cock. But Dean was more than ready for him this time and
simply picked him up and put him back on his back, leaning over him slightly
and slipping his hands beneath Sam’s hips so he could raise him slightly, pull
the pillow back into position and line himself up with Sam’s stretched asshole.
 “You can try that next time. You can take control all you want. But for this
time, let me do it for you, okay? This may hurt. It will definitely feel weird
the first time. Just say if it’s too much.”
“Just get on wi....!” Sam’s words were cut off as Dean finally pushed into him.
It did feel strange. He thought he was already loose, but Dean’s cock was so
thick and heavy that he couldn’t speak for a moment as he felt his brother work
the head in.
 Then he paused to give Sam time to try and relax. “You good?”
Sam’s eyes were shut. He opened them and smiled at Dean. “Oh yeah.” He felt
almost drunk with pleasure.”Just get in, Dean. Fuck me, please!”
 He closed his eyes again, savoured every sensation of every inch as Dean
carefully and gently opened him for the first time with just tiny little
thrusts, each one pushing a little further than the last, until Sam could feel
the warmth of his brother’s skin and the tickle of his hairs against Sam’s ass.
He wriggled beneath Dean, pushing even harder onto him. Sam could see Dean
raising his eyebrows in surprise and studying him with those vivid green eyes
as the light of the low set bedside table lamp lit his face.
Sam grinned up at him and held out his arms. “Come here.” As his brother bent
himself over to meet his lips, he began to thrust into him, slowly at first.
Sam moaned, he couldn’t help himself.
 “That okay?”
 “Oh God, yes. Don’t stop.”
“By the way,” Dean muttered into his mouth. “That what you said about tying me
up and using me as a sex toy was actually quite a turn-on!”
Sam laughed, slightly maniacally. He caught Dean’s tongue between his teeth and
held on, not biting, but just to let Dean know that he could. Then Dean was
pulling his tongue away, lifting up on his biceps and setting up a steady
rhythm of thrusts. Sam wondered what he was doing as he began to adjust Sam’s
body beneath him, turning him slightly, pulling Sam’s hips up an inch, around a
little. Then suddenly he knew why.
 “Oh fuck! What was that?”
 Dean grinned down at him. “Your prostrate! Found the angle! Want me to do it
again?”
“Hell yeah.” This was said in more of a moan than anything else.
 And Dean did, every single time.
 Sam could see the sweat already beginning to drip from Dean’s body as he
really began to thrust now, holding his own weight up on his arms, keeping the
rhythm going, if anything speeding it up, and every time rubbing against that
spot inside Sam that he had heard about but never before had fully experienced.
He moaned loudly every time, he couldn’t stop himself. He sounded like every
girl that he had heard with his brother through the walls of the motel rooms
had sounded. But he still wanted more. He still wanted deeper, still wanted
every last part of his brother inside him.
 He began to move his legs around just as he had when Dean was eating him out,
his brother somehow raising his arms one at a time to let him while still
holding himself up and not once losing the rhythm. Sam would have been
impressed by him if he were not already amazed at himself and his own
flexibility. Somehow he had managed to get both of his incredibly long legs
doubled almost between their bodies so both his knees were right over Dean’s
muscular, glistening with sweat shoulders and his feet were locked together
behind his neck so that Sam could hold himself in the perfect, (oh God!), open,
(oh Yes!), most accessible, (oh Dean!) position for his brother to pound into
him with every inch of his cock.
 Then something was building up inside him. Worse than it had that morning
even. More than he thought he could take. “Dean!”he gasped. “I’m gonna.....”
His climax was the most violent he had ever had. And the most wonderful. He
hadn’t even had to touch himself: he just came, spraying sticky cum all over
his own and Dean’s chest, chin and face.
 Dean just licked around his mouth with his tongue and kept on with the rhythm
as Sam gasped, and cried a little, and tried to recover his breath. He could
see his brother’s arms beginning to shake with the effort of holding himself
there, and see him try to blink away the sweat that was dripping into his eyes,
then suddenly he gave such a powerful thrust that Sam felt that he was going to
be split in two and held himself there with a growl. Dean actually growled as
he came, and Sam felt himself get hard all over again at the feel of his
brother throbbing inside him. Then Dean had all but collapsed onto him, and Sam
slipped his aching legs down from his brother’s shoulders to instead wrap them
around his now soaked body and hold him tight as he tried to recover.
They lay for a long few moments like that. Then, as Sam felt Dean begin to
shiver from the after effects as well as the cold night, he grabbed at the
blankets and rolled Dean over physically onto his back with Sam on top, his
legs unwrapping themselves as he moved and his knees shifting slightly to
either side of his brother so that Sam could curl over his brother and use as
much of his own body heat as possible to keep Dean warm. He then wrapped them
both in the blankets and nuzzled his head into his brother’s neck. They lay
there for a long time, while both their hearts, beating madly against each
other’s through their pressed together naked chests, gradually slowed.
 Finally Dean was able to speak. “Was that okay?”
 Sam stared down at him with a frown. “I suppose.”
 He quickly relented when he saw his brother’s expression turn worried and
anxious. “Give me about an hour and we’ll try that again. Then perhaps tomorrow
morning as well. I‘ll know by then.”
 Dean stared up at him with wide eyes, then as he realised Sam was joking, they
slowly closed and his face broke into a grin. Sam grinned back at him.  He
waited for Dean to open his eyes again, then kissed him. A full, slow, long,
passionate, ‘I love you’ kiss. Then Dean pushed at him slightly to get him to
let him up.
 Reluctantly Sam did, moving to lie on the mattress beside him as Dean pulled
the used condom off his now limp cock and threw it into the trashcan in the
corner. He retrieved his t-shirt and used it to wipe the worst of the sticky
cum of himself, handing it in turn for Sam to do the same.
 “I didn’t use one on you this morning. I’m sorry, I should have thought of
it.”
 Dean glanced at him but shrugged as he found his boxers and sweatpants,
pulling them back on. “Do you want yours, or are you sleeping like that?”
 “Are we sleeping?” Sam grinned at him suggestively.
 Dean groaned, not altogether good-naturedly. “It’s still an early start
tomorrow…,” he glanced at the clock and corrected himself. “Today. I need some
sleep.”
 Sam threw the t-shirt on the floor and patted the bed beside him. Dean slipped
back in under the covers and reached to turn the light off finally.
 “We’re going to get you tested.”
 Dean looked at him in the now darkness. “Excuse me?”
 “And me as well.” Sam added hastily, realising how that had sounded. “Soulless
Sam did a lot of things I’m not proud of. We’re both going to get checked out.
And as long as we’re both okay then I don’t want you to use a condom with me. I
want to feel you properly. I want to feel what it’s like when you come inside
me. I want to feel all of it.”
 Dean raised himself up on his elbow in the bed beside him. Sam didn’t need to
see his face to know how taken aback he was by this suggestion: well, Sam had
to admit to himself, it was more a declaration than a suggestion. He hurried to
continue with his train of thought.
 “I’m not asking you to be exclusive to me. I’m not expecting you to do that.
What you’ve done to me just then was amazing, I want it again, any and every
time you can manage. But I know it’s asking far too much for you to want only
me as well. So, all I’m saying is: use a condom with them, okay. Always. But
when it’s just you and me, then as long as we’re both clean, then you don’t
have to. I’d love it if you didn’t.
 Although.” His smile turned flirting and he pushed Dean back down onto his
back and rolled on top of him again. “I give you fair warning now that I fully
intend to keep you so satisfied and so sated that you will be far too tired to
look at anyone else.” His head had got nearer to Dean’s with every word until
he was now pressing onto his mouth, running his tongue along his brother’s
lips, demanding access.
 Dean moaned and allowed him entry, but spoke around their tongues as they met
and began to taste: “Sammy. I really am tired. I need some sleep.”
 Sam gave a happy and really dirty laugh, “I know Big Brother. I’ll let you
sleep. Build up your energy!” he added suggestively. With a quick twist of his
body, he tipped himself on his back on the bed, pulling Dean with him.
Immediately Sam wrapped his arms and legs around his brother possessively,
revelling in his warmth and weight against his own still naked skin.
 Dean had been taken by surprise again, but sighed. “Sammy. I'm going to be
asleep. It's going to be heavy on you.”
 “Don’t you worry.” Sam nuzzled Dean’s ear with his teeth. “You sleep, I’ll
keep you warm. I can kick you off if it gets too much.”
He didn’t release his limbs at all and Dean knew he wouldn’t. So he took the
obvious choice and wriggled slightly down Sam’s long body until his head rested
on his younger brother’s chest and he settled to sleep, trying not to think
about how easily Sam was moving him around without his permission, and how
secure and warm he felt in Sam’s arms, and how uncertain he was by both those
thoughts. Soon he was sound asleep.
 In contrast Sam laid wide awake, relishing and reliving the details of a mind-
blowing day. A day that had started when he had betrayed and abused his beloved
beautiful brother to the point where he had fully expected that that would be
the permanent end of their relationship, to that exact moment he was living in
then, lying satisfied and contented beneath his brother’s sleeping body. He
could never have expected Dean to have given all that he had done to him: he
still felt terrible shame in asking and he knew he would for a long time. But
the reward had been the best sex he had ever had, given by an absolute master
at the subject!
 Sam’s cock gave a hopeful twitch and sprung fully alert as Sam’s mind went
back over some of the details of the past two hours. Carefully he wriggled his
body out from beneath Dean enough that he could jerk off without waking him,
but still holding him tight with one arm and leg. He never wanted to let go of
his brother again in case this had all been just a vivid dream, and releasing
his hold caused him to wake from it.
 So he just lay half beneath Dean, reliving every minute as his climax grew
closer yet again, memories of his brother’s tongue and lips and fingers causing
his breath to come faster and his cum to shoot further than it had ever used to
before. But as he lay and recovered yet again, one memory rose so clearly that
he couldn’t shake it.
 He lay and thought of the words over and over in his head. Dean’s words,
spoken to him only that morning: “I know what fucking rape feels like! And that
wasn’t it!”
Even as his breathing began to settle and his heartbeat slowed, he felt a cold
anger grow inside him, an anger that could only be cured by finding whoever had
caused Dean to say those words and killing them. Somebody had raped Dean before
all of this, some sick bastard had hurt him. And Sam was determined to find
them and make them pay.
***** The Signal *****
They had been in this new era of their relationship for only about four weeks
when the first big test occurred.
Sam had been at the bar getting the drinks: he had finally cottoned on that, if
he let Dean get them then his brother would be drinking extra shots at the bar
while waiting for ‘their’ drinks to be served. Why had he never realised that
before? Sam couldn’t believe he had been so slow on the uptake. He was
desperate to curb Dean’s ever more worrying drinking habit, he had been for
some years now since he had noticed the occasional empty bottle gradually
becoming regular empty bottles. Which is why he was the one at the bar waiting
for the tray of drinks while Dean was sitting at the table idly looking at
Sam’s laptop and notes.
Sam had already been asked about his brother three times: “Does your friend
have a girlfriend?” Or a less direct: “You boys passing through? Looking for a
place to spend the night?” Eyes all over Dean, hopeful of hands being able to
follow. Even a: “You two look cute together, are you a couple?”
Oh how he wished he could say yes! “No ma’am, he’s my brother. And he’s
single.” (And would never be desperate enough.)
“Mmm.”
He was so sick of this. Dean just never believed him that he did get all this
attention. He knew he could usually walk into a room, turn on his sexy smile or
smirk depending on the situation to get a free drink or a one night stand. But
he just never noticed what Sam had noticed years before: that more often than
not he was being checked out by many admiring pairs of eyes, both male and
female.
Sam had set himself to make a study of it when he was a teenager, wondering
just what it was that they all seemed to see when they looked at his brother.
He wasn’t quite sure when it had been that he himself had started to see it as
well, but he had. But for years he had been proud to walk into any room with
Dean by his side: he just wished that he could have managed to have kept him
there.
“My my,” Sam caught the lust-filled whispers of the barmaid and her friend. “We
are being spoilt tonight.”
Sam followed their gaze to the door and understood their appreciation. A
slight, barely noticeable, lull in the undertone of noise of the bar gave the
clue that they weren’t the only ones noticing the man who had just entered.
Here was another very good-looking masculine male: tall, Dean’s height, six
footish, perhaps slightly taller, chiselled features, dark skin, irises of the
deepest brown that only emphasised the white surrounding them, smart
immaculately fitted suit that highlighted every sinew of the toned form
beneath, manicured strong hands, expensive watch. And an easy, almost predatory
way of walking: a man secure in the knowledge that all eyes would be on him at
that moment.
Well, almost all eyes. Sam’s gaze had gone immediately to his brother where he
sat. Dean was reading Sam’s notes with a frown and had seemed unaware of
anything else. Sam was ashamed of himself as he sighed in relief and turned
back to the barmaid, who had also recovered herself enough to finally fetch his
tray of drinks.
Sam continued to watch the reversed bar reflected in the mirror behind and
above her head. The majority of the clientele had already turned back to their
own lives, conversations or personal fantasies depending. There were still a
few openly ogling the two handsome men in that room: Sam swore he could hear
purrs, but he couldn’t have determined from what sex they were emanating from.
Then the newcomer was beside him at the bar and ordering a shot.
Sam tried not to make it obvious that he was staring at him in the mirror. He
watched as the dark eyes flicked over himself and passed on without interest,
and he tried not to smirk as the barmaid and her friend got the same treatment.
Although it did niggle a bit that the stranger got his drink served first!
Finally his tray of drinks arrived: four whiskies, two beers. All he had to do
now was try and make sure he got half of them and stop Dean from going back for
more. He was still watching the beautiful dark newcomer in the mirror as he
paid. The other had turned away from the bar and was now making his way to a
table.
Sam wondered idly why he was heading to one at the rear of the room, especially
when he only had the one small drink in his hand. The one he seemed to have
chosen took him immediately past where Dean was impatiently sitting: Sam knew
he would get cussed out for the time taken to get the drinks.
As his change finally arrived, Sam watched as the stranger approached and moved
to go by his brother. Then he stared. Had that just happened? Had he imagined
it? No, he was sure it had. As the tall man had gone past, his head had turned
momentarily to glance down at Dean. And Dean, who had seemingly been oblivious
to his presence, had glanced up at him: Sam had seen the flash of his eyes
although his head hadn’t moved. And he definitely hadn’t imagined the glint as
Dean’s eyes flashed towards where he was still standing with the tray of drinks
by the bar, then his brother was looking back up at the stranger with a slight,
barely even noticeable, shake of his head.
No words were exchanged, the man had moved on without any hesitation. Dean’s
seated position hadn’t altered at all. But Sam was sure that they had exchanged
a….. he wasn’t sure what, but they had. And if he hadn’t been watching then he
certainly would never have noticed. His heart began to race as memories of
years of being in bars with his brother, and occasionally other places, jostled
to come to the fore of his mind.
Memories of Dean suddenly declaring he was ‘bored and would go and try another
bar’, or he would ‘just need some air, see you back at the motel, Sam’ and
excuse himself. Or sometimes he would just smirk and follow a lady out, but
would never seem to be with them in particular. And Sam had never questioned
where he was going or taken any notice really.
But now his breath caught as he realised: how had he never spotted the signal
before? Because that was what it had been. Men like this extremely handsome
stranger, men like his brother, didn’t want or need their assignations noticed.
It was nobody else’s business.
Sam hurried back to their table with the tray of drinks. He was sure that Dean
had just been compromised and had refused. Refused because of him. He had
probably been tempted, very tempted, but had glanced over at Sam and turned
that stunning man down. Sam quickly put the drinks down.
“You can go with him!”
He had actually succeeded in taking Dean by surprise as his eyebrows shot up.
“What?”
“That man! I saw him. I saw you. I’m not expecting you to be exclusive, Dean. I
know I’m being unfair. You go, it’s okay. Just be sure to use protection.…” His
voice trailed off as he saw Dean’s face flush to almost scarlet. “Sorry.” Sam
ducked his head, also embarrassed.
His brother recovered himself with a series of blinks and grabbed for one of
the whiskies. “What are you talking about, Sam? I’m not going anywhere.
What…..?” A second whisky also vanished in quick succession.
“I’m serious. He gave you the signal. And you refused him. It’s okay. I won’t
be cross, honestly. And I’d never hurt you again, I swear that.”
Dean stared at him, his handsome face showing a mixture of anger and something
else that Sam couldn’t fathom. Then he slowly and deliberately drained both of
Sam’s whiskies. “I think I’ve worked something out from your notes. Are you
ready for something to eat? I’ll show you after.” One of the beers was now also
disappearing.
“You sure?” There was something about his tone that Sam couldn’t place.
Dean paused from packing the notes and laptop away, and from replacing their
dad’s journal back into his inside pocket and looked at him. Sam winced at his
expression: it had turned so dark.
“I’m not a slut, Sam. Despite what you always think of me. As long as you
want…..what you want, then I’ll try. I said I would and I’ll try.”
“I didn’t mean….”
“I fucking know what you meant.”
And with that he was finishing up Sam’s beer and getting up to head for the
restroom. Sam watched the tenseness in his stride as he went. Where had that
outburst come from? He was left slightly stunned as well as extremely thirsty.
But he quickly gathered his own things up and made his way out to the Impala.
As he unlocked it and stowed the gear, Sam heard the bar-room door open behind
him. He turned expecting to see Dean emerge, but was surprised to see the
handsome dark stranger exiting and moving across to an extremely smart dark
blue, modern sports car.
On an impulse he called over: “Leaving so soon?”
The dark, wow, so dark eyes glanced over at him with amusement as he turned to
respond. Sam felt shivers run up and down his spine as the man’s voice was so
deep, so educated, andso sensual. “Yes. The first prize was already taken. I
don’t settle for second.”
His eyes travelled openly and slowly up and down Sam’s body, returning to his
face. “I’m surprised a man like that would bother with a boy like you, but I
suppose there’s a certain coltish appeal. All long limbs and smooth skin.”
Sam felt himself blush at the obvious implication behind the remark.
“Is there a problem here?” He was relieved as well as even more embarrassed
when Dean was suddenly there as well, his normally deep voice somehow and
impossibly having gone lower and even more gravelly than usual. He glanced at
Sam as he sized up the situation.
The handsome man visibly shivered with appreciation at the sound, and took a
much longer time to admire every inch of Dean as he allowed his eyes to wander
over his body and pointedly settle on his lips as he answered.
“No problem at all. I was just talking to your young…friend.”
Sam began to panic inside his head: ‘Please don’t say brother, please don’t say
brother!"
But Dean remained silent: he just stood and studied the stranger like a leopard
would focus on a long-legged antelope. The other man returned the gaze in much
the same way and Sam found himself wondering which one of them was the prey and
which the predator? Then the man was reaching inside his jacket for an
expensive looking wallet and withdrawing his card.
Pointedly he stepped around Sam to offer it directly to Dean. “I’m usually to
be found in Washington, but for you, I might be around. In case you’re in the
mood for something more mature.” He added as Dean reluctantly took the card.
Sam finally managed to take a breath as the stranger turned away but somehow
still looking over his shoulder at Dean as he returned to his car, only
removing his gaze as he opened the door to get in.
And in that instant Dean had glanced around them quickly to make sure they were
alone. The moment the man was seated in the car and his attention returned to
the brothers, he moved forward to pull Sam round to face him, reached up to
take his face in his hands and drew Sam’s mouth down to his own. It was a full,
lazy, deep kiss. Sam felt his legs begin to buckle. He knew Dean was only doing
it for the stranger’s benefit but he still never wanted it to stop. Especially
as it was the first time, and probably the last time, that his brother was
kissing him in public. He had never even dared dream about this.
He was breathless when Dean finally ended the kiss and gratefully moved to rest
his forehead against his brother’s. “That was wonderful.”
“Yeah. The bastard hasn’t gone yet.”
Sam bit his lip, but dared to peek sidelong below his long eyelashes. The
handsome man was openly watching them, his lips apart, the pink of his tongue
clearly visible. Then he smiled, nodded slightly at them, Sam wasn’t sure which
of them this was to. Finally he started the engine which roared easily into
life, and pulled smoothly away out of the car park.
Neither brother moved until the sports car was out of their view. Then, and
only then did Dean move hastily away from Sam.
As he began to open the door to the Impala, Sam finally managed to find his
voice. “I love you.”
“Yeah, Sammy, I love you too.” But it was a mechanical response, the automated
reply that he had used ever since Sam had been old enough to say the words to
his brother. (Or as close as he had first managed to get: ‘I wuv oo, Dee.’)
Sam sighed. “No. I really mean it. I love you.”
Dean stared at him momentarily then to Sam’s distress, just got into the
driver’s seat and closed the door. Sam walked around to the passenger’s side
and also got in.
He took a deep breath, his mind still rippling with pleasure from that kiss. “I
always have. I always will. I just need you to know that. Even if you never say
it back and mean it in that way. I love you.”
He was aware of Dean just looking at him and wondered how or if he would
respond.
“Let’s get back.”
Sam felt tears prick at the dismissal.
Dean moved to start the engine and realised he still had the stranger’s card in
his hand. He threw it dismissively on the floor by his feet. Sam watched it
fall.
“Thankyou for standing up for me. I know you’d have liked to go with him.”
“Enough, Sam.”
“I mean it. EvenI felt the attraction.”
“Saaam.” It was a low growl, a warning growl.
“Is that how it works? Is it something that you all just worked out? Or? How do
you know? When someone’s interested? Or when you’re interested?”
“For God’s sake, Sam!”
“I just…. I just want to know. How did I not know? How have I never seen….? But
I mean it. If you want to. We’re not exclusive. I’d never ask you to be
exclusive to me. If you want to, then you can. I….”
“Sam. Just shut up! Just shut up.”
Sam closed his mouth in a hurry. Dean was sounding to be at breaking point. For
an instant, Sam felt like a child trying to participate in an adult world that
he just couldn’t understand. But then the moment had passed and he knew he did
understand it. Or at least the part that mattered to him. It might not have
been right in the moral sense, but it felt right in the personal and physical
sense. To him anyway.
Carefully, slowly, he slid his left hand across the seat to cover Dean’s right
hand where it was resting down beside him. Dean frowned but didn’t pull away.
“I know this is fucked up, Dean. I know I’m the one who’s fucked it up! But I
don’t care. As long as you’re okay with it. Or as okay as you can be. Because I
Do…Love….You.”
There was a long silence in the car. Then to Sam’s relief he felt Dean’s
fingers part beneath his, allowing his longer fingers to respond to the gaps
and quickly fill them with his own, so their hands could interlock together as
one strong whole.
***** The Aftermath of Amy *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“You really want to know what’s wrong?”
“Yeah. You know my motto, here to help.”
“Here to help. Kind of like you helped Amy?”
“Listen Sam.”
“Don’t lie to me again. Don’t even talk to me. I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t talk to you right now. I can’t even be around you right now. I think
you should just go on without me.”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“Go.”
Dean looked at him and turned away. “Alright. Sorry Sam.”
But his brother was already walking away, his few belongings over his shoulder.
Dean stared into the trunk of the stupid little car that he already hated so
much at the blue coverings of the severed heads. Shit. After everything he had
done, Sam had just walked away. Again.
But this time was different. This time, Dean was actually calm about it. No.
This time he was pissed. Amy had killed four people that they knew of, and Sam
was still choosing her. Well, fuck him. And this car. And these disgusting
heads.
He set about disposing of them like they had come there to do. And then he was
damn well going to go and get his car! Change the license plates again, do any
other little unmutilating modification he could think of but he was damn well
having his car again. Despite what Frank had said to do. Their doppelgangers
were dead anyway. He had watched their deaths being reported in, so the hunt
should be off them.
Fuck it. Sam had gone again. And Dean was getting the Impala back.
It was late by the time he arrived where they had hidden her while the manhunt
for them had been going on.
“Hey, Baby.” He climbed into the driver’s seat and felt safe. And home. To him,
this was Home.
He didn’t know what to do or where to go next, but he was Home. Fuck it, he
might as well try and get some sleep.
It was while he was stretching out, trying to get comfortable that he noticed
the card on the floor. He picked it up wondering what it was, then inhaled
appreciatively as he could still scent the lingering cologne. He studied it for
a long moment. He didn’t usually call men. In fact he never had. But...
Everything else in his life had changed so fast these last couple of months....
Before he could chicken out, he was dialling.
And before he could change his mind, it was answered.
“Hey. I don’t know if you remember me but we met at a..... Oh you do! You
recognise my voice? That’s good to know.
Well. I don’t know if you’d be interested still. I know, I’ve seen all those
images of the news as well. But that wasn’t me. He just looked a little like
me. Just coincidence. And my ‘friend’. It’s a long story. But at least those
two have been found and killed now: have you seen all the news headlines? At
least I can sleep easy now, grateful not be mixed up in it all or have the cops
calling on the wrong person.
Anyway, I’m sorry to have bothered you....
What? You have a cabin where? And some leave due to you? That sounds great. No,
I don’t have anywhere to be at all. Not for days. Maybe even weeks. I think I’m
due a vacation too. I’ll meet you there.”
Chapter End Notes
     Words in italics 'borrowed' from Supernatural season 7, episode 6,
     probably copyrighted. Apologies if so, but no misuse intended.
***** Sibling Acts Are Tough *****
Sam thought they were okay.
He had apologised, although he had had a go about Dean lying to his face. But
they had both got into that mismatched blue car that Dean had stolen. And Sam
had thought they were okay.
Until he had reached to put his arms around Dean and his brother had smacked
him down. Hard.
“Not happening!”
“What the? Why?”
“You left! You promised! You’re sick of my lying?I’m sick of your promises!”
The peace had immediately shifted into a quarrel, then a full-scale row. Which
had resulted in Dean driving somewhere that Sam didn’t know, getting out of the
strange blue car, grabbing his bags and vanishing into an old barn. Luckily Sam
had had sense to grab his own belongings and follow, before Dean could take off
in the yet again hidden Impala.
“You crazy? Frank told us not to use this? It’s too distinctive!”
“I don’t fucking care. I trust it! It’s the only fucking thing left that I do!”
Sam jumped in beside him with his belongings and the verbal fight continued. It
did all the rest of the day. And promised to that night as well.
“I’ll go and book us in.” Dean got out of the car without looking back and
crossed to the small reception. Sam sighed and went to fetch both sets of bags.
He had them all in his hands by the time Dean returned, holding yet another
door key.
“I’ll bring mine.”
His tone seemed calm, but Sam could hear the threat of violence held beneath
it. Dean was trying to control it, trying to contain the hurt of yet another
betrayal. In a way he was glad Dean was angry at him. Because he knew he
deserved it. It had only taken him only one night’s clear thought to realise
that, and by then it had been too late.
“I can bring them for you.”
Dean grabbed for his bags, his jaw set tight. Sam stepped back a little
instinctively at the sudden movement. “You just get the door.”
It was an order. Sam hastily obeyed and took the key from him, relinquishing
his belongings to him. As he stepped away and began to walk towards the room,
he was aware with every one of his strong instincts that Dean had just stopped
by the car. Sam knew that if he turned around he would see his brother leant
with his head against the cool metal, trying to compose himself and his temper.
He unlocked the door, opened it, and stood in confusion for a moment. “Dean?
They’ve only given us a single!”
As he turned around, he realised that Dean was back in the Impala. So were his
bags. And he was starting the engine and pulling away. The confusion cleared as
Sam realised.
“Dean! Wait! We can talk about this!” He dropped his own stuff and began to try
to get to the car before it could turn the corner onto the main road, but he
was too late. He could only watch as his brother accelerated up the street and
disappeared from view after the next junction. Sam swore viciously out loud.
All he could do was return to his belongings. He stood and glanced into the
small room. He didn’t know what he had expected to happen, but it hadn’t been
this. It didn’t matter that he knew he deserved it. All that mattered now was
finding Dean and doing whatever it took to convince him that he was sorry.
With that in mind he closed the door again and gathered up his stuff. It only
took a few minutes to return the key to the reception with an apology that he
wouldn’t in fact be needing the room after all. He had already picked out a
likely looking car to ‘borrow’ for a couple of hours from the few in the lot.
It wasn’t a car fast enough to catch the Impala, but it was parked beneath
trees that would hide him from view from any CCTV cameras around.
He was on the road himself within minutes. Which way would Dean go? The next
town definitely: he wouldn’t stay here. And he’d want to go fast so he would
drive straight. So all Sam could do was drive straight as well and hope to see
the big black machine that was his brother’s only home parked outside a bar or
other motel somewhere. Probably a bar. Definitely a bar. Dean would find a bar.
And try to get drunk.
He had driven through two small towns before he finally saw the Impala. He was
grateful that Dean had gone and got it: he couldn’t have described that other
car if he’d had a picture of it in his hand. Even so, he nearly just drove
past. Dean hadn’t parked it in the parking lot, but in the street around the
corner from the bar. Sam guessed that there had been something stopped behind
it originally that Dean had hoped would hide it from immediate view from the
main road. Either that or he just didn’t care whether Sam had followed or not,
the call for drink becoming too strong.
Sam parked further up the road and carried his bags back to the Impala. To his
relief, his brother had forgotten to lock it: Sam didn’t dare think about the
consequences if he’d had to jemmy the door open. Quickly he stowed his gear in
the rear seat and pressed the locks down himself before going to find Dean.
He wasn’t difficult to spot as soon as Sam entered the dimly lit room. Dean was
on a seat by the bar, his head in his hands, an empty shot glass by his elbow.
Sam sighed and called upon all his acting skills before he approached him.
“What the?” Dean started as Sam’s hand deftly reached into his jacket’s right
pocket and confiscated the keys.
“Not a good idea for you to drive home, big brother!” Sam’s voice was
intentionally loud for the small audience in the bar. “I’ll take you when
you’re ready!” Most of the onlookers immediately lost interest and returned to
their own concerns at the bottoms of their drinks.
“Get the hell away from me.” Dean snarled at him, but in a much lower tone of
voice.
Sam sat up beside him at the bar and signalled to the bartender. “No.” He
replied quietly so this time only Dean could hear. “I know I’ve messed up. But
I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh yeah? For how long this time?”
Sam felt his eyes prickle at the honest accusation, but controlled them.
Instead he loudly ordered a soda and waited for it to arrive before responding.
“For good, Dean. I knew almost immediately how stupid I was being, and somehow
that made it worse: I didn’t even want to admit to myself how stupid I was
behaving! But I’ve missed you so much. This time apart from you has seemed to
have been the longest of my life and I had to fight the urge to jump you there
and then when I saw you in that café. I’m so sorry.” He placed his hand on his
brother’s knee, patting it like a normal consoling sibling would to a drunk
family member for the purpose of anybody still watching. He didn’t intend for
it to be meant that way and Dean didn’t take it like that either.
“Don’t you touch me.” It was a low snarl, and Sam felt his neck and back prick
with sweat at the anger in it. Then his hand was physically pushed off. “Don’t
youever touch me!”
Dean was getting up, beginning to reach for the keys from Sam’s pocket. Sam had
to stop him. “Let’s try and get you sobered up, shall we?” He all but shouted
heartily with a wry smile on his face. ‘Look at my brother’, it told any of the
world that was interested. ‘Look how silly he’s behaving.’
But he already had an iron grip on Dean’s arm that belied the easy words. He
all but physically lifted Dean off his feet and proceeded to propell him at
speed into the restroom. Dean had no choice but to go with him and try and keep
up with his longer strides or risk being pushed over in the middle of the bar.
He turned immediately and with genuine rage as Sam shut the door behind them
and leant defiantly against it, but managed to wait and check they were
completely alone before letting any of it loose.
“What is this, Sam? Why are you here?”
“I’m here to try and talk to you, you idiot! I’ve messed up! I know I’ve messed
up. But I’m here to try and put it right.”
“Oh yeah? How? Oh I know! Let’s go to bed! That’s what Sam wants! Then you can
tell me how I’ve let you down again and you can go. Again.”
“No. I.” Sam stopped. Tried to think through his next words. “I get why you
killed Amy. I do. But she was my friend, Dean. And you just went and did that.
And never told me. You lied straight to my face! But I shouldn’t have left you.
That was stupid, and petty, and. Immature. I acted immature, and I’ve hurt you.
I know that.”
“Oh well. Big whoop! Thanks for that! Can I get out of here now?” He went to
try and push past Sam, but was as effective as he had been trying to move a ton
of solid rock.
Sam just caught his shoulders and held him. “She was my friend, Dean. I said
I’d help her. She didn’t deserve that.”
“And what about the families of the people she killed, Sam? What about them?
The first one had two kids: did they deserve that? Did their parents deserve
that? And how many had she killed? Four you know of. How many others previously
when she was ill, or her son was ill, or she was just hungry? How many more
before you say she's killed enough?”
Sam faltered. He knew Dean was right. He hated that he was right. But even
worse, he knew how much he had hurt Dean by leaving him again and that was
unforgivable. Especially after just how close they had become in the last few
weeks and how much Dean had given up for him.
“I’m sorry, Dean.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Sam. Not this time.”
“I was just…..”
“What, Sam? You were just what?”
“I was happy to see her again. I owed her. She saved my life. I just wanted to
believe her. I did believe her when she said that was it. But you’re right. If
it happened once, then it could have happened again.”
“Or already have before.” Dean pointed out vindictively.
Sam nodded. “Yeah. Or before. But why didn’t you tell me? Why hide it? Why lie
to my face, Dean? Is that what you felt so guilty about when that Egyptian
freak got hold of you? Is that why you just accepted his death sentence on you?
Why, Dean?”
“How did you react when you did know?” The question was snarled at him.
“I was furious. You killed my friend! How could you have done that? She had a
little boy!”
“Well, that’s why I didn’t tell you. Because she mattered to you and the four
others that are dead because of her didn’t! Because her little boy mattered to
you and I didn’t! You didn’t even look back did you, Sam? ‘Dean the big bad
Hunter killed my friend and she had only murdered and eaten four people! And
she was such a good friend because I’d met heronce when I was a kid and never
seen her since. But I trusted her immediately. Because I’m Sam Winchester, the
clever one of the family! And my big brother Dean isn’t capable of seeing them
as anything but monsters!’
You said the same about Ruby if I remember! That I wasn’t capable of
understanding like you could. That I always look for the worst first. Well
thanks, Sam. At least I know where I stand with you. And it’s at the bottom of
the list below kitsunes and demons! I don’t really need your help to feel like
a nothing!”
He had ranted himself out and walked away from his brother in disgust to lean
against the wall by the stalls. Sam was stunned and genuinely upset, both at
himself for causing this, and for Dean. Because he wasn’t a nothing. He was
everything. It went straight through Sam’s mind to walk over to him, grab his
face and pour his tongue down his throat until he got through to his brother
just how sorry he was and how much he did matter to him.
He had just moved his back off the door to do exactly that when it suddenly
opened and hit him hard. Sam exclaimed in pain and swore as a middle-aged man
in casual clothes entered the restroom.
“Oh, sorry! Didn’t see you there!” He went immediately to the urinals, fiddling
with and opening his pants as he went. Both brothers turned away, Sam looking
to Dean and biting his lip as his brother refused to even glance in his
direction.
The stranger shook himself off and finally picked up on the atmosphere in the
room. “Women trouble, huh?”
“What?” It was Sam who felt obligated to respond.
“Women trouble! Between you two? Oh, mind you, when you came in, you said you
were brothers! I know all about brother trouble.” He was washing his hands by
this time.
“Really?” Dean tried and failed not to sneer.
“Really.” The man wasn’t put off by his tone at all. “I’ve hoped for years to
make it up with my brother. If anyone knows trouble it’s him. I mean, it was
him.” His face turned sad.
“What happened?” Sam was immediately sympathetic.
“I’m not sure. They said it was an animal attack. A few weeks ago, but they’ve
only just managed to trace me. I’ve just been to collect his belongings. In
Livingston, it was.”
That caught both of the Winchester’s attention. Livingston was where Amy had
killed one of her victims.
“But they won’t give me any details. It don’t seem right though. How could an
animal attack like that happen in a town?”
“Was it at his home? Or where he worked?” Sam felt he didn’t really want to
know but had to ask anyway.
The man laughed hollowly. “He was a drug dealer. He was a bad’un. I know he
was. But he was my brother. He didn’t deserve to die like that.” He indicated
the bar on the other side of the door. “I was getting up some dutch courage to
go and tell my old mum, she doesn’t know yet. No. It was in an park. In a town
park. They said he was partly eaten. How does that happen in a town?”
”Shit happens.” Dean informed him without malice.The stranger nodded.
“Althoughmy brother would be telling you that it doesn’t matter as he was only
a drug dealer. He deserved everything he got, wouldn’t you say Sam?”
Sam glared at him aghast that he would say such a thing about him aloud. But
the man didn’t seem to take offence.
“No, I know what he was. But he was still my brother. I always hoped that he
would finally see the errors of his ways and come home.” He sighed. “That’s
never going to happen now.”
He looked up to look straight at both Sam and Dean in turn. “I just can’t
believe that it happened like that! It must have hurt so much! How would you
feel if your brother was hurt like that? Killed like that?”
Sam started to respond but stopped in shock as Dean spoke first. “Oh, I doubt
Sam would care much if I died. We were just discussing how little he thinks of
me. He’d just be glad to finally get rid.” He wasn’t even feeling sorry for
himself, he had said it like a universally known matter of fact.
That was it. Sam couldn’t contain himself. With a roar he was across the room
and physically slamming Dean back against the wall, using his greater height
and weight to trap and hold him there.
“Now you listen to me, Dean Winchester! I was angry at you, yes. And I acted
like a total prick and hurt you, yes! But I would destroy anyone who tried to
harm you. And I would follow you back into Hell if the alternative was losing
you! And I certainly do not want to get rid of you and I certainly don’t think
little of you. I should have listened to you. I wish I had! I love you, don’t
you understand that, you moron?”
There was a momentary silence in the restroom, broken by the stranger with a
sigh. “That’s it. I wish I could have told him that, despite everything, I
still loved him. Do you love your brother as well?” This was to Dean who was
still pinned against the wall.
“Oh, Sam has a funny way of showing his love to family.”
It was said with so much malice that Sam exclaimed despite himself. The
stranger blinked but fortunately didn’t seem to understand.
Dean finally broke free from Sam’s large hands and pushed him away from him.
“I’m sorry to hear about your brother.” He told the stranger with sincerity in
his voice. “I hope the news doesn’t break your mother.”
The man nodded. “I hope so too. Thanks. Got time for another drink?” He said
hopefully, trying to put off the inevitable.
Dean shook his head. “I think I’ve had enough.”
This was said with a glance at Sam, who immediately understood that he was
talking about something else entirely. Dean nodded at the stranger and left the
restroom.
Sam sighed, gave a small gesture of farewell to the recently bereaved man and
followed his brother through the door. To his surprise Dean was nowhere in
sight. He reached into his jeans pocket for the car keys and stopped. Where
were they? He had put them into that pocket, he was sure he had.
It was with sudden clarity that he realised the slight touch of Dean’s quick
hand into his denims even as he had pinned him against the wall.
“Shit!”
Sam was running and out of the bar just in time to get to the Impala and slam
the door closed almost on Dean’s fingers as he unlocked and opened it.
“Sam!”
“Enough, Dean! You’re not running from me again! We’re going to talk about this
and get through it!”
“Oh that’s rich! Who walked out on who?”
But Sam had grabbed the keys back and was bundling him into the car,
immediately following him in and physically shoving him along the seat and away
from the steering wheel.
“I left you! BecauseI’m an ass-hole! But you are the big brother! You set the
example! So you’re just going to have to put up with it! And me!”
By this time he had the car started and was pulling away from the kerb. He
didn’t know where he was going. He cared even less. But he had Dean with him.
Against his will admittedly, but he was there. And Sam was going to take that
as a win.
***** Reunion *****
He managed to keep his hands to himself for four days, and he didn’t know how
he’d lasted that long. To be beside his brother in the car; to smell that
natural musky aroma that Sam had known all his life; to sit at a table and eat
or drink with him; to hear him laugh easily with and charm total strangers,
that was all bad enough. But to return to a small motel room; to know that Dean
was naked in the shower just through that door there; or lying in the opposite
bed, alone: well, Sam just didn’t know how he’d managed to restrain himself for
four days.
He knew he had let Dean down. He knew he had broken his promise. What he didn’t
know was how he could even begin to put it right. Dean would talk to him just
like they always had, even laugh with him at some stupid movie on TV that they
had found on the really, really miserable wet evening when neither of them
wanted to risk even running to the car. But he wouldn’t let Sam touch him. Not
when handing a bag or weapon from one to another to use. Not when they had to
share and read an obituary report quickly before the coroner came back. Not
even when Dean slipped on a loose curbstone and fell over, grazing his knee and
cutting his right hand so badly that even he knew it should have had stitches.
It was driving Sam crazy. And it had only been four days. He had to do
something. He had to try.
Dean was stretched on his small bed, studying news reports on his laptop. Sam
was in the shower: he could hear the water running. As soon as he came out,
Dean would suggest that they went to a local bar that he had spotted on their
arrival. In the meantime, he had work to do.
He was aware of his brother in his peripheral vision as Sam exited the small
bathroom amidst clouds of steam. He frowned. He didn’t want to look around.
Because from this angle, and he knew he wasn’t looking directly at him, but
from this angle, out of the corner of his eye, it looked, it really looked,
like Sam was completely naked. And very, very hard.
Dean fought the urge to look around. But the image was like a magnet for his
eyes. Eventually he had to give in and look. He swallowed quickly and looked
back down at his screen. He had been right. Sam was wandering around the room
just pottering; picking items up; tidying things away; idly stretching while he
turned on the small TV set in the corner; all while being totally unclothed
with his erect cock almost hitting his belly button as he bent over to place
his discarded boots together ready for use the next day.
Dean sighed and mentally fought down his own immediately corresponding
erection. Then with decision he got up suddenly off his bed and crossed to the
door, hoping to slip outside and away from this tempter that was his brother.
He nearly made it.
As he began to open the motel room door, he was suddenly aware of a large hand
covering his on the handle. Of a large body behind his own. Of warm breath on
his neck.
“Dean. I won’t ask you to stay if you’d prefer to leave. But. If there’s
anything I can do to show you how sorry I am, then all you ask to do is tell
me."
To Dean’s frustration, the large hand over his own was pushing the door closed.
He could feel his brother’s cock knocking for attention against his back, Sam
was standing that close. He took a deep breath and rested his forehead against
the cool wood of the door, trying to control his suddenly pounding heart and
the dryness of his mouth.
Then he felt his brother’s hands gently creeping around his body, his right
sliding around to pull gently back on his chest, forcing him closer back onto
that... solid shaft of equisite bliss behind him, Sam’s left hand beginning to
rub and massage his tense neck and shoulders.
“Dean? I know you’re angry at me. I know. And I’m sorry. Just tell me how I can
make it up to you. What do you like?” When and how did Sam get his mouth so
close to his ear? He could feel the tiny hairs on his lobe vibrate as Sam’s
breathed the words directly on to them.
“Do you like it when I’m in you? Your legs wrapped around me and my tongue
inside you as deep as my cock, building you up until you spray all over me? Or
do you want me on my knees? Can I, Dean? Can I get on my knees and pleasure
you? Sucking you and licking you until your knees buckle? Or would you prefer
me on all fours while you pound into me? Oh god, Dean, do you remember when I
couldn’t move after and you had to pick me up in your arms and put me on the
bed, because you had just pleasured me so much that I couldn’t even get my legs
to work beneath me for a while?
I felt so safe in your arms, Dean. I always did. Will you carry me like that
again? To your bed? Put me down, and just climb in to me? Make me yours? Make
me scream and pant beneath you? Or would you prefer to lie back, pull me on to
you. Make me ride you? Like I did that time? You enjoyed that, didn’t you? When
I stretched my legs out and leant back on my arms and just rode you, gently.
All evening. Your eyes were so dark I couldn’t see any green left and you were
begging me to let you come, weren’t you, Dean? You just couldn’t take any more.
Dean, is that what you’d like me to do again?”
“Sammy. Don’t do this.”
But Dean’s eyes were closing as he fought to keep his own body under control
and knew he was already losing the battle. Despite himself, he felt his head
begin to lean back to rest against his brother’s bare shoulder. Gently he was
turned in his brother’s strong arms and pulled closer to that solid expanse of
smooth, naked skin. He tried to ignore the hint of Sam’s lips against his
cheek. Against his mouth.
“Sam. I....”
“I won’t stop you from going out. If that’s what you want, then you can go out.
Go to a bar, have a drink or something. I’ll be here when you return. Probably
in the bed cos I’ll be cold on my own.” He could feel Sam’s cock against his
lower chest. He could feel his own, nearly as large, responding desperately
beneath his jeans. “Do you want to go out?”
Sam had his left hand in his larger right one. He was being made, not roughly
or against his will, but made to put his hand back on the door handle again and
turn it. As it opened this time Sam pulled his body towards his own and stepped
back slightly. Dean could feel the sudden draft as fresh air flowed into the
room. He saw his brother visibly, sensuously shiver, and noticed a sudden
flurry of goose bumps on the smooth skin as the chill hit him. He also noticed
how the cold made no difference to the large size of a certain lower area
whatsoever.
“For god’s sake, Sam! You’re going to get ill!” It was his natural reaction to
use his own body to shut the door again with a loud thump. He was frustrated at
himself and how he couldn’t, just couldn’t resist his brother. What was wrong
with him? This was wrong.
He had said it out loud. He hadn’t realised he had, but he had. He felt rather
than heard Sam’s reply in his mouth as his brother finally caught his chin in
his large hand and tipped his head back to claim his lips.
“It’s not wrong. We’re allowed to be happy. We’ve both given enough to be
allowed to take pleasure where we can find it. And you do give me pleasure. So
much. Every time. I ‘m sorry I let you down. I never will again.”
“Yeah. But this is wrong! We shouldn’t do this, Sam!”
“But we have, Dean.” Sam paused and stared down straight into his eyes. “Even
if we stop now, we have already. We’re two brothers who have slept together. So
if you’re thinking that hell and damnation is waiting for us just because of
that, despite everything else we’ve been through, then stopping now isn’t going
to change the fact that we have.”
Even as Dean processed that thought, Sam was pushing into his mouth with his
tongue. He could feel his brother wavering between obstinance, sheer bloody
stubbornness, his innate fear of being judged and found wanting by everybody
else in the whole entire world, and simmering passion that from the feel of him
against Sam, was fast coming to the boil.
“Are you going out?”
He just wanted to check, to make sure Dean couldn’t kid himself that he was
being forced rather than seduced.
Dean sighed around his tongue. “You know I’m not,” he admitted. “But I can’t
keep giving myself to this if you’re just going to walk away whenever you want,
Sam. I can’t. You... I... I can’t.”
“I know, Dean. I’m sorry. I’m ashamed of myself. I should have stayed and
talked it through. Thrown something at you! Even that would have been better
than just walking away. I won’t ever do it again.”
He had locked the door behind Dean’s back while they were talking into each
other’s mouths. Now he began to move carefully backwards, drawing his brother
to the bed in a music-less dance, their lips and tongues doing a tango to a
different rhythm all of their own. When he finally felt the solidness of it
behind his long legs, he sat down and pulled Dean to straddle his lap with his
knees, doing it all without releasing his mouth from his own, or his body from
his tight embrace.
It was as gentle and as exploratory as when they had begun this, only that
couple of months or so ago. That’s what it felt like, a second beginning, to
both of them. No hurry, neither of them had anywhere they had to be that night.
They could just take their time. So they did.
All too soon though, their mutual lust was causing them to break the kiss. Sam
was amazed at how turned on he was at being completely naked with his fully
clothed brother astride him. Even as he began to undo Dean’s clothing to
correct the lack of symmetry between them, he filed that information away in
his head for future reference. Dean moved away from him enough to remove his
boots and socks, quickly followed by his jeans and boxers, while Sam helped him
with his shirts.
Then to Sam’s surprise and delight, he was returning to the exact same position
and finding Sam’s mouth again with his own.
“Can I? Like this?” Sam enquired even as he opened his lips for his brother.
“Yeah.”
It was all the assent he needed. Sam reached for the lubricant on the bedside
table, grateful for his long arms.
“When did that get there?” Dean queried, but with a smile in his voice.
“Lube fairy.” Sam informed him, already coating the fingers on his left hand.
He was pushing two of them into his brother in the very next instant and
groaning as he felt the tightness that he had missed so very, very much.
Dean was also moaning and arching his back against them. “Not going to be able
to wait too long tonight, Sammy! It was all your dirty talk earlier. Plus that
fucking fantastic naked ass walking around. Wasn’t fair.”
Sam chuckled. “You think you can take me now?”
His brother nodded immediately. “Do it.”
Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly lubed his cock up and held it
steady for Dean to slide down on. He carefully did with a series of
increasingly deeper lunges with his thighs that had them both in immediate
ecstacy. Once he was fully down, he took a brief moment to control his
breathing then began to gently rock his hips astride Sam’s, which had the
pleasing effect of making his younger brother fall back on the bed while
emitting a long, low series of moans.
“Oh God, Dean. I was supposed to be pleasuring you! Oh my God. Don’t stop doing
that. Not ever!”
“Wait, Sam. I’ve got to. There.”
He had found the angle that he wanted for himself. Now being satisfied that it
would be good for them both simultaneously, he began to work harder, putting
the rock hard muscles on his thighs to good use, using them to lift up and push
down as he rolled his ass in a devastating rhythm around his brother's cock.
“Shit, I’m not going to last long like this, Dean. I wanted to pleaseyou
tonight. Wanted you to come first and then with me!”
“S’okay, Sammy.”
“No. No! Let me change position. I love this, but I want you to....”
He was sitting up, catching to hold Dean’s ass in his hands, picking him up
physically and turning to put him on his back on the bed, all without leaving
even an inch of his body. Now Sam could control the rhythm, as well as being to
watch his brother’s face for the signals that he was starting to know so well.
There was the gasp that meant Dean was close to coming. There was the
uncontrollable arch of his back. There was the flash of his eyes as he soaked
both of their chests and the growl that he couldn’t ever hold back. Sam grinned
and kept going, knowing that as long as he could last a few more minutes
himself then Dean would no doubt be ready to join in for a second time.
Which indeed he was.
Sam lay and held his brother tightly as they both calmed down, their hearts
beating against each other in differing staccato rhythms. How could he have
just walked away from this? No wonder Dean had been so upset at him. He was
upset at himself for hurting his brother by being so stupid. He could only be
grateful to have been given another chance. He mustn’t waste it. Sam was only
too aware that this was probably the last one.
He raised himself and moved to kiss Dean lazily. “Ready for round two yet?” He
grinned down at him mischievously.
His smile dissipated somewhat when Dean regarded him from beneath his thick eye
lashes, kissed him and lay back in readiness. Although he usually went to sleep
almost immediately after a session, tonight he was wide awake!
“Bring it on, Sammy boy! Bring. It. On!”
***** Deepest Desires *****
Dean must have burned the bones as the spirit suddenly went up in a blaze of
fire and smoke. Sam sighed in relief as he was able to move again and hastened
to the glowing orb that contained the imprisoned sprite whose power the ghost
had been feeding off. As he smashed it, just momentarily he could see the
physical image of the being. To his surprise she appeared to be an old woman.
She smiled at him in gratitude, a toothless, knarly smile and held out her
hand.
“You shall have your deepest desire....” he felt the words in his head as a
little magic sparked from her hand and settled in dust around him. Then she had
gone, faded away as if never there.
Sam blinked just as Dean came racing around the corner. “You okay?”
Sam accepted the worry in the deep voice with a smile: he had finally come to
terms with the fact that Dean would always be protective of him.
“I’m good” he reassured him. “It all went well. Let’s clear up and get out of
here.”
Later at the motel he was still wondering about those words, about the
possibilities that it could mean. If that had happened just a couple of months
ago, there would only have been one, one fantasy that he had had for so many
years that he couldn’t even remember when it had begun: he had wanted
physically to be with his brother so long that he almost felt that he had been
born especially to be Dean’s. Now though, as they more often than not shared
one bed, he wondered about what his deepest desire could be now. He decided to
take a shower while he thought about the options.
When he came out of the bathroom, Dean was still working on his laptop at the
small table, looking for another job to go to already. Whatever he was looking
at on the screen was bright: it illuminated his brother’s face with a greeny-
yellow glow that highlighted the ever-increasing worry lines that were
appearing around his eyes and mouth. It even cast a shadow on the wall behind
him, a clear image of Dean’s solid body and head in silhouette.
Sam dropped his damp towel and lay out on one of the beds. “Dean! Turn that off
now.”
Dean paused in his reading and glanced over, then did a double take at Sam’s
long, long and very naked body stretched out waiting for him, Sam’s cock fully
erect and bobbing as if in summons. “Come to bed” Sam added with a smile.
Dean stared at him momentarily, Sam tried not to blush as his brother’s eyes
travelled up and down his body, then with a smirk that veered dangerously into
a leer, Dean closed his laptop, moved to the door to check it and turned off
the lights. There was some sign outside that cast a yellowy neon glow into the
room so it wasn’t completely dark and the brothers could see each other
perfectly well as Dean came to kneel beside the bed.
Sam sighed as Dean reached up to catch his face with his hand, as gently as
always, and pull Sam sideways and down to meet his own soft lips. Sam always
had the same thought as their mouths first brushed together: it always amazed
him that his brother could be so strong, so solid, his hands so calloused and
thick, but his lips so soft, so moist, so warm, so perfect. Then the thought
was lost as he simply gave his mouth to Dean’s, allowed him to probe and
explore with his muscular tongue until Sam felt he would melt with pleasure.
Even more so when he felt Dean’s roughened but always gentle hands begin to run
up and down the top half of his body, caressing and rubbing every last inch of
his chest, sides and back. Dean finally broke the kiss, leaving Sam slightly
breathless. He lay back, but still on his side as his brother moved to follow
his own hands with his mouth, nuzzling, kissing, tasting, and licking
everywhere they had just been, where they were still going as they explored
Sam.
Dean shifted his knees on the floor to reach the lower half of the bed, and
Sam, with his mouth. Leaning forward he began to work on Sam’s cock with his
tongue, while his hands still carried on their wanderings. Sam couldn’t help
but moan at the attention as Dean’s flattened, moist, knowledgeable tongue
found and pleasured every single tingling inch of him. Then he nearly lost it
as Dean raised himself up and deepthroated him suddenly. He could feel himself
at the back of his brother’s throat and knew that if Dean hummed, which he was
want to do in this particular situation, that he, Sam, would be totally out of
control.
“No! No.” He grappled for Dean’s short, soft hair and pulled his brother off
him with a slurpy plopping noise. “Not like this. Not right now. Want to be in
you, want you around me. Please! Hurry.” He winced at his own words – what was
it about being like this with Dean that reduced him to barely coherent speech?
But Dean understood and just grinned, damn that smirk of his, and pulled Sam’s
left hand to his own mouth, sucking his long fingers right into the warmth
inside and giving them the same consideration he had just used on both Sam’s
mouth and cock. At the same time he started to undress himself, still in his
position on the floor and Sam could barely breathe as he watched his brother’s
hard, muscular body be uncovered.
“Hurry!” it was all he could gasp.
Then Dean was up on the bed, up over him, pushing him to lie on his back with
Dean straddling his groin. He could feel Dean’s erect cock knock against his
own and nearly gave into the temptation of just pulling his brother down on him
and rubbing against him to get his relief. But he wanted to wait, wanted more,
he had to wait. But he wanted it now, right now.
He tried not to be rough as he pulled his saliva-slicked fingers out of Dean’s
mouth, immediately putting them to the intended purpose of entering Dean’s
perfect ass. One, then as soon as he could, two. Dean’s mouth was back on his
own, in his own, his hands were still, oh god what were his hands doing?
Concentrate Sam, concentrate on your fingers, can he risk three now? Mustn’t
hurt Dean, mustn’t hurt Dean, But oh god, he wanted to be in there.
He felt Dean’s words in his mouth rather than heard them “Where’s the lube?”
“Under the pillow.” He felt sudden childish disappointment as Dean raised his
body up off his enough to reach the small container, then sat up a little and
removed it from Dean’s hands.
“You put it on me.”
Dean nodded and held out his hands for Sam to squirt the cold liquid into them,
then, as his brother then carefully lubricated every inch of his cock, Sam
nearly came there and then. “You’re doing that on purpose” he hissed as he
grabbed and squeezed the base of himself to try and stay in control.
Dean’s only reply was a throaty chuckle.
Then his brother was manually moving his body, pulling him to the edge of the
bed so he was seated with his feet on the floor. And Dean was straddling his
lap, standing astride his legs but facing away from him, feeling for his
slicked cock, putting his own ass in the correct position. With a deep breath,
he began to sit onto Sam and push down. Sam’s eyes almost rolled back in his
head at the heat, at the warmth, at the tightness, at it all. He forced himself
to remain stationary as Dean carefully took in every long inch of Sam inside
himself, Sam could feel his tight buttocks against his skin, then once Dean was
ready he began to move, using his powerful thighs to raise and lower himself on
the erect skewer of Sam’s cock.
Sam gasped and moaned, he couldn’t help it. He wanted to reach to Dean, to
thrust into him, but at the same time he wanted to savour this, wanted it to
last and enjoy every sensation of being inside Dean. His brother made the
decision for him, reaching out to grasp his larger hands with his own slicked
ones, pulling them around his torso so Sam could hold him tightly; pull his
back even closer to his chest; place his hands on his hips then reach one
forward to wrap around Dean's cock and begin to gently stroke it, unable to
give too much else for the moment because his mind was closing down as Dean
simply worked on him, feeding his intensity of the fuck.
Then as he felt himself start to gasp and get close he couldn’t contain himself
anymore, he had to take charge and bring them both off as one. He threw off his
brother momentarily and grappled for his shoulders and ass, turning Dean
physically around until he was lying on his back with Sam over and in him,
pulling his legs up so Sam could find the right angle, until he could see
Dean’s eyes start to roll  and hear him start to moan as well. That was it; Sam
couldn’t control his tension anymore and came with a huge roar inside his
brother. The action, the feeling inside him triggered Dean’s explosion as well,
and he coated them both with his hot, sticky cum. They lay for a long time
together, just gasping, just trying to calm breathing, just completely
exhausted in a good way.
Then the shivers started, the backlash of good orgasms, and Sam reached for his
discarded, still damp towel from the floor, used it to briefly wipe them both
down, and pulled the bedcovers around them. He held his brother tight against
him and they both slept.
Sam didn’t know what woke him up a little later. If anything, the sign or
whatever it was outside had gotten brighter, and it now cast beams of yellowy-
green light into their room that he could see clearly by. It was even making
shadows on the wall, causing images of the table, of the chair, of Dean.
Sam stopped being sleepy suddenly. His brother was still snoring beside him, he
had wriggled away from Sam’s too-much-warmth to lie on his front besides him,
Sam could see him there, could reach and touch him. So what was making that
shadow? It looked exactly as Dean’s shadow had been earlier from the computer
screen, but there was nothing there to cause it. Sam sat up a little trying to
figure it out, and the dark figure on the wall turned at his movement.
Sam froze, the shadow was Dean’s, unquestionably, and it was moving, he could
see the silhouette of Dean’s nose and lips as it turned, but what? How? It rose
suddenly, standing against the wall on which it existed, then moved to its
right, into one of the darker areas unlit by the glow. Sam’s heart pounded as
he could no longer see it, he stared into the darkness waiting.....for what, he
didn’ t know. An attack? From the shadow of his brother? Or..... he didn’t know
what.
Long minutes passed. Sam felt his eyes begin to close again. Perhaps it had
just been a dream, or his imagination in the moments between sleep and
wakefulness? Nothing had happened. Perhaps it had just been a bizarre waking
dream. He lay down again, but still slightly unnerved, raised his body enough
to climb on top of his still sound asleep brother. He knew Dean would hate
this, would grumble about being too hot, but if there was something in that
room with them, then at least Sam would have tried to protect Dean from
whatever it was. It would be him attacked first, not his sleeping and helpless
brother.
He lay down, his full length over Dean’s, and felt sleep once more drift over
him. He had nearly gone completely when he felt it.
Hands, calloused rough but gentle hands at his hips, hot breath and a soft
probing tongue in his left ear, weight as somebody laid themselves on his back.
He recognised it all, recognised the hands as they began to travel his body,
knew only one person had a tongue that could do ...that....to him, could trace
every inch of the chest that rested against his spine. Only one person. And
that person was lying beneath him.
He tried to get up, tried to stop whatever this was, but “sshhh”, he felt a
voice identical to his brother’s in his ear, felt the breath ghosting over his
neck, felt goosebumps rise at it but not ones of fear but from expectation.
“Just relax” the deep voice told him. And suddenly he knew what his deepest
desire was. One that should never have been physically possible at coming true,
but here it was.
In the time he had realised that, the hands had made their way back to his
hips, squeezing beneath them, between them and his real brother’s ass, lifting
him slightly away. He gasped as he thought that the shadow hands were going to
go around his fast responding cock, but no, they lifted his hips until his
knees were slightly beneath them, either side of his brother’s legs on the bed.
Then gently, he felt like he was a cat being stroked, one hand returned to his
ass and. Sam broke out into a sweat as a finger slipped inside him. He should
stop this. This was against his will.
No it wasn’t, his own mind responded – this is from your will – this is what
you’ve always dreamt of in your wildest, most lust-filled fantasies. This is
your doing.
His own body was betraying him in the meantime. It recognised the being on top
of him, knew how good it was, reacted to every perfect touch, every slight
stroke of the shadow’s touch. Because it had become his brother, and, oh god,
what his brother could do to him. The shadow- Shadow Dean’s mouth was now
caressing kisses along the back of his neck, working its way round to his right
ear. A second finger was pushed into him. Somehow no lube or saliva was needed,
it just felt smooth and right.
Despite himself he moaned, and felt real Dean stir beneath him. He realised
that his now fully erect cock was pressing into his brother’s ass cheeks, he
shifted his hips so he could lie along the line of Dean’s crack to make it more
comfortable for them both.
“Jesus, Sammy, you’re insatiable.” Dean sleepily mumbled and momentarily his
head went back down to the pillow with his eyes closed.
Sam bit back another moan as a third digit was inserted into his ass. He felt
them inside him, twisting to loosen him, exploring his insides, rubbing at...oh
god... don’t do that. His cock responded beneath him, probably poking Dean, the
real Dean painfully.
He came awake again, tried to stretch, found he couldn’t. “Wow, Sammy, you’ve
got heavier?”
Sam didn’t know what to say, what to do. But Shadow Dean did. It raised itself
off Sam just a little, still with its fingers inside him and drew itself up
over Sam’s shoulder enough to tongue Dean’s ear. “Ssshhh, relax, just relax,
just enjoy.”
Dean did. “I like your deep sex voice Sam, you’re going to use that again,” as
he settled nearly back into sleep.
Then Shadow Dean was back giving Sam its full attention with its tongue,
pulling his hips back with both hands now, pushing a very hard cock to his
entrance. Sam braced, but wasn’t afraid. This was his dream after all. His
dream wouldn’t hurt, he knew it wouldn’t. It felt almost natural for the cock
to slide inside him, slowly and carefully stretching his insides little by
little. Then it was fully in, he could feel the warmth of the body behind and
over him, he felt....
It had been a small disappointment to him. The only disappointment when he had
persuaded Dean to start sleeping with him. That he enjoyed, very much enjoyed,
fucking his brother. And he very much enjoyed being fucked by his brother. But
it was physically impossible to do both at once. To be filled and do the
filling as it were. To feel both sensations at once. And he would never, never
be interested in asking anyone else to join them, because for him, it was only
Dean, would only ever be Dean. But now, just tonight he would get the chance to
know.
He knew therefore what the shadow Dean was waiting for him to do. Gently he
reached with his hands beneath his brother’s hips and began to pull them up,
just a little. Just enough. Could he reach the lube? Did they tuck it back
under the pillow? Or discard it on the floor? He couldn’t remember. But then
Shadow Dean’s hands were over his, helping him pull his sleepy real brother’s
hips into position and he knew it would be okay.
“Sam?”
This time it was Sam who sshed him and breathed in his ear. “It’s okay, Dean.
I’m just..... I won’t hurt you. I promise I won’t. Just let me....I love you so
much...just please, relax, let me in.”
Dean did relax, raised himself enough so Sam could feel his hole. Gently,
gently he pushed in, feeling Dean, still loose enough from earlier, stretching
around him and drawing him inside to his heat. Sam couldn’t help but moan at
the intensity of both feelings at the same time. He didn’t know what he should
be doing but instinctively reached his hands for Dean’s, the real Dean’s and
brought them round to lay each side of his brother’s head, holding him in place
but not so that he felt forced, interlacing their fingers as he loved to do.
“Relax. Just let it...me set the pace, okay.”
“Okay” it was a mumble but not a pained mumble, just a sleepy one.
Then Shadow Dean began to move, thrusting gently inside Sam who in turn was
thrust without thinking about it into Dean. The rhythm was steady, wonderful,
Sam felt completely filled, just as he always did with Dean, but also he could
feel the intense warmth of the real Dean around him, the intense tightness that
if he could convince his brother about letting him fall asleep inside every
night, then he would. He had no control over what was happening and didn’t
care, he just wanted to enjoy.
Dean, the real Dean, let go of his left hand and began to try and get his own
beneath himself. Sam came out of his revelry with a sudden panic – was he
hurting his brother? “You okay? This....okay?”
“Yeah” it was said in a happy, almost ecstatic slur. “But I just gotta....”
Sam realised suddenly that Dean was on his face, which meant his probably fully
erect cock was between him and the mattress, which wouldn’t have been doing
anything for Dean at all. That’s why he was trying to move his hand, to get it
around himself.
“Here. Let me.” Sam wanted to.
He wanted to feel that Dean was also getting pleasure out of this most unusual
of situations. He slipped his large left hand beneath his brother’s body and
wrapped it tightly around his cock. The rhythm hadn’t been broken at all while
he did so and he suddenly felt that it was all complete, the fantasy was all
there.
“Thanksh Sammy.” Dean was awake but relaxed, just letting what he thought Sam
was doing to him happen. And Sam, he was just soaking up all the sensations,
everything that he could, while he could.
Then Shadow Dean began to thrust harder and deeper, driving Sam harder and
deeper into Dean, causing Dean’s cock to begin to leak against Sam’s hand. Both
brothers began to moan, which only served to urge the Shadow onto finding a
more ruthless rhythm to please them both.
“Oh God, Sam, how you doing this?” Dean was trying to get his knees beneath him
to push back but was struggling with the weight of what he thought was just his
brother. “Oh God, I....can’t...I...”
“Relax, Dean, relax” Sam was struggling too, he felt he was going to explode,
he wanted it to stop, but then again he wanted it never to. The tension inside
him rose, an absolutely glorious tension.
Shadow Dean removed one hand from Sam’s hips and reached around him to beneath
Dean’s body to help him raise up to get the full effect on his prostrate, Sam
still holding Dean’s right hand and finger’s interlocked with his own and his
other hand tight around Dean’s cock. Sam felt Dean go tense.
“Sam? How have you got a third hand?”
“It’s the shadow!” Sam gasped, “My desire! It’s you on top of me and beneath
me. Oh, please don’t stop it now! Oh fuck!” his voice cracked and broke as he
could no longer stay in control of himself, he was at the mercy of the being
above him, knew he had a lot of explaining to do for Dean and he didn’t care.
“I...” But Dean stopped.
Sam managed to open his eyes enough to see that Shadow Dean had taken real
Dean’s left hand in his, and was holding him, fingers interlaced just as Sam
was doing with Dean’s right one. The pressure of the thrusts increased and both
brothers knew they were helpless to do anything but finish.
It all happened at once, just as Sam had known it would. He felt the scorch
inside him of Shadow Dean’s hot cum, felt the pulsation of his, its, orgasm
right through him. At the same time, he exploded into his brother, filling him
with everything he could give. And Dean roared beneath him as his own climax
into Sam’s hand shook him from head to toe.
None of them moved for a long time. It seemed that not even the shadow felt
able to move for a long time. Sam wondered if his brother was being crushed
beneath the two of them but could feel his heart racing through his back and
against Sam’s chest. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want this to end.
Then Shadow Dean kissed his cheek, gently, tenderly and pulled out of him and
off the bed. Sam huddled Dean in his arms but didn’t move other than to whisper
in his ear: “Watch the wall.”
He laid his cheek against his brother’s as he turned enough to follow where Sam
was meaning. They both watched as the silhouette of Dean once more crossed into
the glow of that strange light, finally turning shadowlike once more on the
wall, then both it and the light were gone as if a switch had been flicked off.
Still the brothers didn’t move. Sam’s cock was soft inside Dean now but he
didn’t want to pull out, he just wanted to hold his brother beneath him. He
reached with his hands for the covers and pulled them over himself, knowing
that the chills would soon be there, and wrapped himself back round Dean’s
body.
“So.” It was Dean who finally broke the silence. “So, that was your deepest
desire? Two of me?”
“No.” Sam nuzzled into the back of his neck. “To be loved by just you but all
at once. Just to know what it felt like from both points of view at the same
time. I know that sounds weird.”
“We’re used to weird” He felt his brother shrug beneath him. “Standard issue
for us. But...” Sam tensed at what Dean was going to say. “I’m telling you. I’m
not going to be able to sit down for at least a week after that!” He tried to
move then, to get from under.
Sam snorted back a laugh, held him tighter, but slipped his body down besides
Dean’s on the mattress, rolling his brother so that he could spoon him instead
and wrapped one of his long legs around Dean. Dean reached for it with love and
held it there over him.
“To be entered and to enter, all at once.” Sam was ecstatic, wanted to talk.
“That was amazing. I never want anyone else but you, but that was amazing. All
the feelings, all the sensations. Wow.”
He hugged Dean impossibly closer to his chest. “Have you ever been with two men
like that? I mean... I know you have with women, but men....?”
“Let’s get some sleep, Sam.”There was an odd tone in Dean’s voice, a warning
that Sam would ordinarily have noticed. But he was too excited, too overwhelmed
by what had just happened to hear it.
“Come on Dean, talk to me. Tell me” He wriggled his body and pulled at Dean’s
until he had turned him enough to look down at his brother’s face in the
darkened room. “Have you ever been with two or more men at once?”
Dean stared up at him. “Leave it, Sam.”
This time Sam caught the warning note, but now he needed to know why. He moved
suddenly to straddle Dean, catching his hands, pinning him once more against
the bed with his own body.
“Dean? Have you been with more than one man at once?” The tone of his own voice
meant that this was now a question that was going to be answered that night, no
matter what.
Beneath him Dean sighed. Stared straight up into his eyes. Only replied with
two words.
“Not willingly.”
And with that, the spell was broken.
***** Three Nights Later *****
It was three nights later. Sam looked out of the window of the motel room: he
had lost track of how many times he had. Yet again he had spent the day
trailing around anywhere and everywhere, looking for Dean.
They had had a huge row that night. Sam had only belatedly realised that he
wasn’t being fair, that, just as Dean kept telling him, it was none of his
business. But by then the damage had been done. He had demanded to know who?
When? And the more he had yelled and pleaded and ranted, the more angry Dean
had got. Until he had grabbed up his jacket and stormed out into the night,
without the keys for the Impala that were still on the table by his laptop, and
vanished.
He had left Sam equally as angry behind him. By dawn he was guilty and
distraught, And really, really worried. Dean’s phone was turned off. Or knowing
his brother, smashed to pieces in a gutter somewhere. And that thought
immediately forced him to face something that he didn’t want to admit: if he
hadn’t known his own brother was bisexual, what else didn’t he know about him?
The solid dependable rock that he always thought of Dean as being had lately
begun to crack and flake away, leaving a whole new strata of unknown beneath.
No. Sam knew Dean. He knew that he had been trying not to drink so much for
Sam’s sake. He knew that the first thing he’d do is go and get extremely drunk.
So drunk he’d be spoiling for a fight with anyone unwise enough to cross his
path. So drunk he’d be incapable of thinking sensibly, which meant he would and
could do anything. And more than a little part of Sam was afraid that he’d go
off with a woman, or even worse in Sam’s mind now, a man, and simply never come
back.
He had already checked the nearest hospitals. He’d even put on his suit, gone
to the local police stations and blagged his way into the cells. No sign. Not a
hint.
It wasn’t his business. He kept telling himself it wasn’t his business. If Dean
wanted it kept in the past then was up to him. If he’d been raped and didn’t
want to talk about it, then that was his choice. And if he’d been raped by more
than one man, been held down and raped by at least two, was laughed at and
jeered by a group of men as he screamed in pain and shouted for help, had had
God knows what else done to him and no one had helped him.... if Sam hadn’t
been there to help him. No, fuck it, Sam couldn’t leave this alone as his
imagination ran wild. He had to know. Why hadn’t he been there to help when
Dean had obviously really, really needed him?
Was it when he was at Stanford? Had he abandoned his brother to danger from
more human monsters than they usually hunted? Or was it before? When Dean used
to disappear in the evenings when he was a kid, after he thought Sammy had gone
to sleep but he never really had: he just used to lie and listen while his
brother went out, to steal, or scrounge food, or......where did you go those
nights, Dean? Where did you go? Sam had to know. He had to know. Had his
brother put himself in danger one night while trying to find enough money to
keep them both alive and just never told him? How badly had he been hurt? How
had he hidden it?
Or had it just been just bad luck? A random one-night stand with a handsome
stranger that had all gone horrifically wrong? A night that had ended badly and
Dean had never seen the need or had the want to tell him? Or Sam just hadn’t
been around to tell as he had been having a ‘normal’ life somewhere when God
knows what had been done to his brother?
Whatever it was, Sam had to know. He couldn’t bear thinking that he had let
Dean down again. He knew he couldn’t let it go. But for now the most important
thing was finding his big brother and bringing him back safe no matter what
condition he was probably in.
It was no use, he couldn’t just sit here and wait yet another night. Again he
tried Dean’s cellphone. Again it was switched off or broken. He thought about
trying Bobby again: he’d called to say they’d had an argument (but obviously
not about what) and that Dean had gone, and Bobby had promised to call if he
had heard anything, so perhaps he wouldn’t call him again in case the older man
asked any awkward questions.
Eventually he just grabbed the keys to the car and went out to drive around
again. He knew the routes to the local bars; he had even mapped them in the
nearest towns. He tried not to think about buses and how far Dean could have
got if he’d really wanted to. Sam just hoped that the call of strong liquor
would have lured his brother before anything else.
He cruised around the local bars, checking each and every one for any sign of
Dean. Then he chose a direction at random and drove to the nearest town that
way to repeat his tour of all the bar-rooms and dives he could think of.
Then on to the next town he had mapped.
And the next.
By this time it was past four in the morning and Sam was exhausted. And more
than angry. He checked down alleys behind bars, went in them all and gave a
description, looked behind dumpsters, searched anywhere that a drunk, out-of-
control Dean could be.
He was intensely irritated when in the end he proved himself to be right.
Dawn was breaking when he noticed the booted foot hidden behind trash cans in a
filthy, stinking, rat-infested alley. Panic set in as he approached with his
flashlight, then flared into a rush of pure anger as he realised Dean was
alive. He had obviously drunk himself into oblivion. He was covered with his
own vomit, there was blood all over his face and hands. And, Sam noticed with
alarm even despite his rage, there was blood on his shirt as well. He hurriedly
checked closer: there were deep bruises covering his brother’s chest and
stomach, and he knew he had taken a beating. A bad beating. He’d probably
deserved it, Sam thought viciously.
He checked Dean’s breathing, it was steady but rasping. Sam wondered if that
just meant broken ribs, or worse? “Oh for fuck’s sake.”
He didn’t try to wake Dean, he just pulled at him roughly to get the dead
weight of his body up enough to be able to sling him over his shoulder: what
the hell had he been doing? It was only as he struggled to his feet under the
weight of his brother, and the first rays of the morning sun lit the alleyway
enough that he saw the two other bodies that lay further in. Sam could see the
glint of a blade still in one’s hand. Oh god, what had happened?
Quickly he returned to the Impala and dumped Dean unceremoniously onto the rear
seat. Whatever had taken place in that alleyway, his first thought was not to
be there any longer that he had to be. He muttered angrily to himself all the
way back to the motel, pulled the car up as close as he dared get to the motel
room door, opened it ready to stagger out of the Impala with his dead beat
brother and dumped him as carefully as he could in the empty bath tub. He might
have been worried about Dean’s condition, but he was still annoyed enough at
him that he didn’t care too much when his head banged hard against the cold,
porcelain surface. Then he parked the car properly and locked it, and returned
to see to his brother.
“God damn it Dean, look at the state of you!”
With extreme distaste he began to strip off his brother’s soiled, in many
unthinkable disgusting ways, clothing. It would all have to be destroyed. No
way was he going to try and clean any of it. Well, perhaps the leather jacket
might be salvageable, but nothing else. But as he got closer to Dean’s skin
where he could clearly see the bruises, boot-sized bruises, and thought he
could make out a slight misshapen dent in his upper chest where the ribs
weren’t quite aligned correctly any more, and see some new and very angry
slashes in his torso and arms that luckily hadn’t got deep enough or had been
deflected by the heavy leather before getting near anywhere majorly serious,
then the more concerned Sam got.
Again he checked his brother’s pulse. It was there, as was his breathing, but
on lifting his eyelids, Sam could see he was completely out of it and would be
for some time. Sam’s anger had fully dissipated by this time. Methodically he
began to carefully clean and attend to his brother’s battered body with
disinfectant and bandages, and in the case of the two deepest cuts, with a few
stitches. Dean didn’t even flinch at any of it.
He was more careful as he lifted him naked out of the bath tub and placed him
gently on one of the beds, turning him carefully on his side in case he vomited
again, and wrapped him in blankets. As an afterthought he handcuffed his right
wrist to the headrest. It wouldn’t stop his brother for long, but it would slow
him down.
Then despite all of his anger and frustration and worry at Dean’s bloody
fucking stupid stubbornness, Sam lay down behind him on the bed and wrapped his
arms around him, pulling his own chest tight to his brother’s back, careful not
to pull against his ribs. At least he was safe. Here where he belonged. Sam
rested his forehead against the back of Dean’s head and let himself sleep
soundly for the first time in over three days.
Dean didn’t wake up properly for another day and night. By that time Sam had
only got even more anxious: perhaps he should have taken him straight to the
hospital? But also by this time he had watched the regional news on the small
TV set and seen the appeal for a hero who had saved two young local girls from
being assaulted by a known gang of bikers just two nights before, in the town
where he had found Dean. The girls had escaped unscathed: the fate of the lone
hero and the gang was unknown, although two motorbikes had been found abandoned
outside a bar with no sign of their owners, the rest of the bikers seemingly
having fled to cause trouble elsewhere.
Then later that day he had seen the story break that the two missing men had
been found dead in an alleyway that looked suspiciously familiar. Unfortunately
the neighbouring bar had had no CCTV set up to view that area, which Sam was
very grateful for. Police were still appealing for the hero to come forward,
and local people had put up a reward to show their gratitude.
Sam breathed a sigh of consternation. He had no doubt that there had been more
casualties than just the two mentioned amongst the bikers, they would
definitely have come off worst, but how could Dean have been so stupid? Not
only to take them on alone without Sam to back him up, but more because the
police wouldn’t be looking for him as a hero. No, they’d be wanting to arrest
him for double manslaughter at the very least. He could only be thankful that
the girls either hadn’t got a clear look at their rescuer, or that they had had
enough sense not to tell.
For the third time, he checked, tended to and redressed the wounds: they seemed
to be healing well enough. And Dean was definitely breathing easier. Not for
the first time, he wished that Cas had still been around. He knew he would have
come immediately if he’d known that Dean was hurt and could have healed him
completely within seconds. But then, even if that were possible, it wouldn’t
have healed whatever it was that set Dean off drinking so blindly and so out of
control. He knew he was to blame for that. He knew he had to let it go, to stop
asking and to just wait for Dean to decide if he would ever tell him. However
unlikely that was.
By this time he was desperately hungry himself, but reluctant to leave his
brother alone. In the end he risked a dash to the nearest store where he
grabbed ready-made sandwiches in packs and potato chips and sodas, as many of
each as he could carry. Then he hurried back.
To his relief Dean was still there, although he had finally managed to move
himself on his front in his sleep which meant his handcuffed hand was caught
and twisted awkwardly above his head. Sam considered for a moment, then went
and got some rope from the car to tie his brother’s other wrist and legs to the
bed before releasing the welt-inducing cuff: he knew from bitter experience
just how deceptively tricky Dean could be. But this time at least, he really
did just seem to be sound asleep.
All that Sam could really do was wait for him to wake up. He ate some of the
food himself, worked on his laptop a while, then as the night drew in again, he
returned to the bed beside his brother and pulled him into his arms again. He
really wished he could lay his head on Dean’s chest to be comforted by the
steady thud of his heartbeat, but he didn’t want to cause him any extra pain.
All he could do was hold him tight and whisper into his ear what a fucking
idiot he was and how much he loved him.
He was unprepared for the wave of relief that washed over him when Dean finally
opened his eyes in the early morning and groaned loudly, then winced at the
noise of his groan.
“Oh god, my head.”
He shakily tried to sit up.
“Just stay there.” Sam kissed him despite himself. Dean’s eyes were bloodshot,
his breath stunk like hell and he looked like shit, but he was alive. “I’m
sorry. Please never do that again. Please not ever.”
Dean grunted, lay back down and shut his eyes to stop the room from spinning.
“S’okay Sammy,” he slurred, “Please just let it go.”
“I will, I will Dean. I won’t ask again.”
He quickly released all the bonds holding his brother to the bed, peppered his
face with kisses and settled back down with him. And, for that moment at least,
he meant it.
It took Dean a couple of days to be able to get out of the bed on his own
without needing Sam’s support to get to the bathroom or having to walk his way
around the wall to the door. The leg that had only fairly recently mended after
being broken by the leviathan was causing him a lot of pain once more: Sam
hoped it wasn’t broken or cracked again but there was no way he was going to be
able to get his brother to the hospital now he was awake, and he simply hadn’t
thought of it before. He had only been worried about the more obvious cuts,
slashes and many, many bruises.
Dean had run his hand over his own ribs and grunted as he felt what he declared
was nothing, which meant Sam immediately knew they were broken or at the very
least fractured. He also declared that he could remember nothing about what had
happened during the three days that he had been missing, but when were they
leaving as he was ‘fed up with this room’?
He had sat up in bed and demolished the entirety of pre-packed sandwiches and
potato chips that Sam had bought: his brother didn’t like to ask when he had
last eaten but he suspected that, quite simply, he hadn’t. He had complained
about the welts from being tied up: didn’t Sam trust him? He had grumbled about
his injuries and being out of action. He had complained about his destroyed
clothing, all of which was mysteriously his ‘favourite’, although he had
changed his mind when Sam had got fed up and threw the black garbage bag that
he had bundled it all up in onto the bed.
Dean took one whiff: “Burn it!”
Sam just kept trying to remind himself that if Dean hadn’t been complaining
then he would have cause to be really worried!
But he was glad when Dean could finally stand enough on his leg to hobble in
and out of the shower and get himself dressed without needing assistance.
Immediately he wanted to leave.
“Where are we going?” Sam asked.
“Anywhere.” was the only response.
And Sam couldn’t help but agree.
So he packed their few belongings up, bundled Dean into the passenger seat of
the Impala despite his protests, and moved on. To another small town. To yet
another motel. And Sam tried not to ask.
They picked up the trail of a vampire. Sam set Dean doing research on a local
blood-sucking myth on the laptop and went ‘to get some food’. As he dispatched
the creature he found himself idly wondering which of the two, this monster or
the angry brother that he was definitely going to be facing when he returned,
was really the most dangerous or most likely to kill him.
He was far more wary when an old acquaintance recommended them to deal with a
‘demonic’ ten year old girl. He knew Dean wasn’t going to be easy to give the
slip to this time, but Sam was worried that he still wasn’t up to full
strength. He wasn’t missing the grimaces Dean was giving if he tried to get up
too quickly on his leg. The irony of the situation, that he now felt what it
was like to worry about Dean from the moment he woke up every day to the moment
he fell asleep, almost like a protective big brother sort of thing, wasn’t lost
on him.
It had turned out during their investigations that the possession seemed to be
by an unknown but angry previous inhabitant of the nineteenth century house who
had objected to the daughter of the new owners finding her hidden-under-the-
floorboards gold locket wrapped in an old lace handkerchief, and not by a
demon. They convinced the parents to let them try a private exorcism that
evening where they would also destroy the haunted items.
Despite Sam’s best efforts, which consisted of handcuffing his brother in the
bathroom of the motel they were in and barricading the door shut, he was still
irritatingly grateful when Dean got free and arrived in a stolen car at the
house just in time to continue reciting the exorcism that Sam had been rudely
interrupted from completing, via the simple but effective means of having his
head held beneath the water in a fish tank by an unseen force.
Dean knew the words from memory. He was unfazed by chairs and a table, and a
huge, flatscreen TV set whizzing by his head. Suddenly the hold on Sam’s head
was released and he surfaced with a long series of gasps in time to see the ten
year old fall to the ground hysterically and the materialised spirit, a little
girl, throw itself bodily at his brother who staggered back with the force but
didn’t fall. She seemed to say something into his face and Dean seemed to nod
in response, then he was igniting the small scrap of laced material with his
lighter and smashing the locket beneath his boot, and she was bursting into
flames still in his arms and vanished as abruptly as she had appeared. It was
over.
Sam sat on the floor and spluttered for a long moment, aware of his brother
watching him ominously. “Dean. I....”
His brother ignored him and addressed the stunned parents instead. “Do you want
to take her out of here while we clear up?”
They just stood and gawped at him, the shocked family: father, mother, young
girl. Eventually the mother found her voice: “I didn’t expect her to be so
young, she was just a child....Who was she?”
Dean nodded. “Kelly Mae Johnson. She was six when she fell down the stairs. It
was her momma's locket, the only thing she had left of her.”
“How do you....?”
“Found her name when we were at the library.”
Sam frowned: why hadn't Dean mentioned that before? But the family were
tearfully taking the chance to leave the smashed room, the father carefully
carrying his now exhausted daughter in his arms and the mother gabbling her
thanks gratefully at both the brothers.
Only when he had heard the front door close behind them did Dean move across to
him with just the barest wince of a limp. He looked down at him for a minute
then deliberately knelt on Sam’s hand and arm, effectively holding him down on
the floor. He considered carefully what he was going to say as Sam waited
nervously.
“Dean?”
“Sammy. If you ever. Ever. Try to dump me again to do something so stupid on
your own again, then I swear to God I will break both your legs, do you
understand?”
Despite himself Sam smiled. Not that he didn’t believe Dean: on the contrary he
fully appreciated the sincere promise of violence behind those words. But he
was also genuinely glad to see his brother in that house without any further
harm coming to him. Perhaps he was capable of taking care of himself again.
“May I have my hand back?”
“It depends how you’re going to behave.”
“I’m going to be very bad.”
Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Bad?”
Sam smirked up at him. “I’ve been too careful of my fragile brother recently.
I’m going to stop doing that from this moment, and instead I’m going to pin him
to the floor right now and fuck him because I’ve missed doing that so much
while he’s been unwell.”
Dean frowned. “This floor?”
“This floor.”
“With the fish watching?”
Sam sniggered. “Yep. With all of them watching!”
Dean considered for a long moment. “The fucking part sounds good. I’ve missed
it too. But.”
“But?”
Dean sighed. “This floor is really hard and I’m going to need you to help me up
off it in a minute.” He admitted reluctantly. Sam grinned. “Besides, they might
well want to come back in, it is their house, after all! We might not be so
popular if we were.... well, if they suddenly returned. Can we move it to the
motel and a bed instead?”
This time Sam considered. “How about moving it to the Impala?”
“My Baby? Don’t you even think about corrupting her!”
Sam was genuinely astounded. “How many girls have you had in her?" And how many
boys? he wanted to add, but decided against it so as not to spoil the good
mood.
Dean grunted but didn’t answer. Instead he pulled his weight back enough to
release Sam’s hand and began to try and get up. He couldn’t contain the wince
this time as his leg wouldn’t go beneath him as it naturally should. Sam
hurried to help him up, covering his concern by catching his brother’s face in
one of his hands and moving in for a deep kiss as his body shifted enough to
take some of Dean’s weight onto his own legs.
“Thanks.”
He stood and waited while Sam gathered up all the equipment that was now
scattered all around the main room of the house and replaced it in his bag.
Joking aside, it was time to leave and let the relieved if not traumatised
family outside, back into their home. Besides, whether Dean had been serious or
not, Sam damn well had. Which meant he was now on a promise that he was going
to ensure was kept.
Handing Dean the now refilled bag, Sam took a final look around and they left
the house together. Sam unlocked the car and opened the rear door for his
brother to get in. Dean looked askance at him.
“Get in.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t kidding, Dean. Get in!”
He was grateful to see an amused flash in his brother’s green eyes as he obeyed
and carefully got in the rear seat, gingerly stretching his right leg out along
the seat. Sam stored the bags in the trunk, grabbed a blanket out to throw into
the front seats and went to speak to the family before returning to the
driver’s seat.
It didn’t take that long for him to reach his intended destination: he had
noticed the darkened deserted patch of wasteland on the way over earlier. Now
he parked up, picked up the blanket and joined Dean in the back seat of the
car, locking the doors securely behind him. Carefully he climbed on top of his
brother, all too aware of the injuries he still carried but wouldn’t admit, and
began to kiss his lips tenderly.
He felt Dean relax beneath him and pull his body tighter onto his own. It
seemed they had both missed this intimacy the last few days. Sam carefully slid
his brother’s body down until he was lying on his back along the seat, his leg
stuck up against the rear door at an angle that Sam was wincing at and worrying
over, although Dean didn’t seem to care too much as his hands were already in
Sam’s pants and reaching for his cock.
Sam pushed them off. “Dean, let me suck you.” He slipped off the seat and knelt
in the foot-well, opening his brother’s zip and beginning to mouth the bulge
beneath. “Oh God, I’ve missed you. Don’t ever leave me like that again, Dean.
Not ever. Please.”
He felt Dean’s hands in his hair. “Get me out.”
Quickly he pulled at his brother’s boxers to release his erect cock and without
any hesitation began to suck and lick it.
Dean’s breath hitched in his throat and he tried not to thrust. “I’ve missed
you too, Sammy.”
That was music to Sam’s ears. He began to get his hand on his own cock to bring
them off together, but Dean stopped him. “I’m doing you after.”
Sam wasn’t sure how, but he obeyed and just concentrated on pleasuring Dean. It
didn’t take too long as he had been so ready. All too soon Sam heard the groan
that gave the warning and he immediately opened his entire mouth around his
brother and took as much of his cock in as he could. He wished he could take it
all for Dean instead of just a few inches. He so wanted to give him the same
pleasure as Dean knew how to do for him. Somehow he could hold Sam’s full
length in his mouth and down his throat without gagging, and when he ‘hummed’
while doing it, it just drove Sam completely out of control!
Sam tried his best to repeat what he had been learning from his expert brother.
It must have been fairly pleasurable as Dean came into his mouth, though he
tried to pull out fairly quickly before Sam choked. Sam spat it into a small
cloth that he had ready and wiped the rest of the cum up where it had
splattered.
Dean took a few minutes for his breathing to calm. ”Your turn.”
“Dean, you can’t kneel down here. I’ll wait for the motel.”
“I’m not kneeling. You are”
He reached for his brother and suddenly Sam was being manhandled up onto his
body to straddle Dean’s chest on the seat. And Dean was sliding himself along
it further until Sam’s crotch was over his face and Dean was undoing his pants
and pulling his undershorts aside.
“Dean! You’re going to hurt your leg!”
Dean had moved as far across the seat as he could so his ass was now almost
pressed against the door, with his leg all but doubled back against his own
chest and held into the air causing his foot to be bent and braced awkwardly
against the roof of the Impala, but he wasn’t bothered.
“I’m more worried about your back!”
The raw dirtyness in his brother’s voice caused Sam’s cock to knock up and down
as Dean released it. He raised his head off the rear seat and immediately took
it straight into his hot mouth, completely sealing around it with his lips.
Sam gasped and felt his back arch as he was pulled forward and down as Dean
settled back down on the seat. He had to brace his hands against the rear door
and window, but the only thing that his brain could focus on was the intensity
of sensations around his cock.
He could feel himself against the back of Dean’s throat, and then, like the
most incredible sword swallower’s trick, Dean raised himself once more, tipped
his head back to get the correct angle, opened his throat fully and Sam’s cock
just descended straight into it all the way, right up until his balls were
squashed against his brother’s face.
“Oh God, Dean!”
He had never heard himself moan like that. His back was bent backwards almost
at right angles to get himself into Dean that deep and he didn’t care. It could
hurt later. Nothing mattered at that moment but that warmth and that feeling
all focused around his cock.
“Oh my God, Dean. How are you doing this?”
He felt rather than heard his brother chuckle. Oh fuck, just that ripple
through his throat could make Sam come there and then. But then Dean was
pushing his body up and away from him with his hands, then pulling him down
again, down into that complete heaven of his mouth. Sam quickly got the
message. He thought he’d got the basic idea behind face fucking, but
this.....oh god, this was something that he had never dreamt of.
He began to thrust. To be fair, his body began to thrust as his brain was just
in a melted puddle of bliss somewhere in his head. The apocalypse could have
come and gone again at that moment but all he would have been aware of was
those minutes in the rear of that car where he fucked his brother’s mouth as
hard as he could, completely out of control, until his limbs were shaking with
the effort of holding himself in that position and he didn’t care. He never
wanted this to end. He could have happily died right then and taken this moment
to Heaven as one of his most wanted to be repeated memories. Possibly the most
wanted one. Nothing could be better than this.
And then Dean started to hum in his throat and oh god, it was better, it really
was! Sam began to lose his vision as the vibrations reverberated around his
cock and his whole body shook in response. It was going to be a huge climax, he
couldn’t do anything about it except ride it out just like he was doing with
Dean’s face. The intensity of sensations around him, the sheer incredulity of
being so deep within his brother from this end, Sam could feel himself crying
he was just so overwhelmed. A little boy being taught by a master, an
absolutemaster at this.
He came so hard, and with such a roar that he hurt his own throat. He couldn’t
move. Couldn’t have if Dean had asked him to. All he could do was stay in that
awkward position that he didn’t care two hoots about, while his cock throbbed
and pulsed and emptied completely into his brother. He was so shaken even a few
minutes after by the intensity of it that Dean had no choice in the end but to
physically push him off his face, Sam’s softening cock catching him at the very
last second and making him choke only as it pulled clear of his mouth.
Sam wasn’t even aware of it. He just knelt astride Dean’s head, trying to get
his breath back and trying to control his trembling limbs. He became dimly
aware of his back arched painfully. So what? Finally he was able to look down
at his brother who was smirking up at him and just licking lazily at any last
drops of cum dripping from his younger brother’s wilted cock.
Finally Sam had recovered enough to speak. “Fuck Dean! Where did you learn to
do that?”
His own throat felt raw and sore. What the hell would his brother’s be like?
But Dean seemed unworried: in fact he had such a twinkling, vivid, vivid-green-
eyed grin on his face that Sam knew he had really enjoyed it. “Practice, little
bro’. Practice! Come down here.”
Sam obeyed, still shaking in every one of his long limbs, pulling his shorts
and pants back into place as he carefully slid down along his brother’s body to
lie awkwardly on top of him with his legs also at strange angles, with his
chest on Dean’s chest and their mouths melded together. Without looking Sam
grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around them.
They didn’t part lips for a long time. Then Sam really had to breathe. He laid
his head against his brother’s. “You got any more tricks like that?”
“Why?” Dean was annoyingly innocent. “Did you like that?”
“Oh fuck yes.” It was all Sam could rasp. Dean was more than a master of sex,
he was a fucking bloody God of it! And Sam was going to worship him every
chance he got.
Dean chuckled filthily. “Then that’s alright then.”
And somehow that meant more to Sam than anything.
***** The Nightmare *****
They had returned for the night from the latest hunt, glad to be out of that
cramped stolen little car, (Sam had begged, pleaded, argued and eventually
demanded that Dean put the Impala back into storage as it was just too
conspicuous for them to be safe from the leviathans). Dean had idly switched on
the small television set while Sam was in the bathroom. Switching idly through
the numerous channels, he gave up and just left it playing on the local news
service while he went through the nightly routine of salting the windows and
door. Sam had already changed into his sleeping sweat pants and not much else
by this time and was just sitting watching the screen without taking much of it
in.
“Which bed are we in tonight?”
Dean grunted good-naturedly at his brother’s hopeful grin. “Don’t you ever just
want some sleep?”
“Never going to happen.” Sam told him, twisting suggestively in the chair to
stretch his long body out to its fullest and holding the pose for Dean to
admire. “Why do we always get two beds anyway?”
The question caught his brother by surprise. He took a long moment to consider,
then conceded.
“Force of habit, I suppose. Next one, I’ll try to remember to ask for a double
bed.”
“Only if you’re sure.” Sam knew that would be a bigger step forward for Dean to
take than he would admit to. “I’m happy squashed into one with you if you are.”
“Hmm.”
“Or even better, squashed under you.”
Dean’s eyes glinted at him as he also grabbed his toiletries and went to use
the bathroom. The motel room wasn’t the best and the door didn’t quite fit the
frame as it should, it swung ajar a little, enough that Sam could hear the
water running and the sink filling. He got up and slipped across to stand
outside.
“If you’d prefer a shower rather than just a wash, I’m happy to come and scrub
your back.”
Dean appeared in the doorway, his shirt already off, he was using a moist
flannel to wipe the worst of the highway’s dust and grime from his neck and
face.
“No, you’re good. I’m finding I need a shower every morning now for some reason
anyway!”
Sam stepped into the small room to take the flannel from him.
“What reason would that be?” he queried as he started to gently rub Dean’s bare
chest with it.
He smirked as the green eyes twinkled with anticipation. “For the reason that I
keep finding myself to be all sticky when I wake up: I don’t know what it could
be.”
Sam sniggered and turned him physically so he could wipe around his neck for
him as well. Stepping closer, he curled his left hand round to Dean’s front and
ran it down his warm skin to wrap around his waist, while pulling his brother’s
back closer to his own naked chest.
“We could get all sticky in here first then go to bed, if that’s easier.”
Dean gave an exaggerated sigh and turned in his arms to look up at him.
“Are you telling me that you would prefer this grubby bathroom floor to that
albeit extremely small bed in there?”
Sam took the chance to plunge his tongue into his brother’s mouth. “I’m saying,
I don’t care where we are as long as I get inside you.” To emphasise his
urgency, he rubbed his sweatpants against Dean’s lower chest and groin so his
brother could feel his erect and impatiently waiting cock. “So hurry up or I’ll
take you wherever. It’s your back!”
He began to push Dean backwards against the sink and fumbled for his jeaned
thighs, intending to lift his brother up onto the small vanity unit and make
him wrap his legs around his own waist. Idly he wondered if the porcelain and
cheap wood could take the strain if he fucked Dean against it or if it would
just collapse and smash into pieces beneath them. Dean was obviously thinking
along the same lines of thought as he hastily struggled out of Sam’s grasp.
“Just let me brush my teeth and I’ll be there.”
“You sure?” Sam wasn’t ready to let go just yet.
“I don’t want splinters in my ass! Now go and warm the bed up!”
Sam chuckled and stepped slightly reluctantly back into the main room. The
television was still reviewing the newsworthy local events.
“And finally tonight, we send our regards to one of our oldest residents: Miss
Bathsheba Susie who has reached the ripe old age of one hundred years old
today. Now to what would you say you owe your longevity, Miss Susie?”
Sam started as a crash came from behind him. He hurried back into the bathroom
to find Dean leaning with both hands against the sink, the glass of water he
had been about to gargle with smashed on the manky floor. He had gone pale. He
looked like he was going to be sick.
“You okay? Dean! You okay?” Sam had his arms around him again, but out of worry
this time. “Dean?”
He was shaken off suddenly.
“Yeah, sorry. Must have slipped from my hand. I’ll clean it up.”
Sam didn’t understand: what could have just happened to cause such a
transformation in his brother’s mood? Then he realised that even as Dean bent
down to gather the pieces of broken glass he seemed to be listening intently to
something. The television?
Sam listened as well. “And if we all follow Miss Susie’s advice then we should
live to a ripe old age. Congratulations once again, Miss Susie!”
Was it his imagination or did Dean’s complexion get even paler?
“Does that mean something to you?”
“What?”
“That old lady? Do you know her?”
“What? No. No, it was just….something that reminded me of somebody I used to
know, that’s all.”
“What?”
“It don’t matter. It’s not important. I’ll be there in a moment.”
The colour was returning to his face, but Sam wasn’t fooled. Especially when
Dean fumbled a large piece of glass and cut his finger deeply. He didn’t even
seem to notice until Sam grabbed the flannel and wrapped it around to stop the
blood. Which was when he realised how badly Dean was suddenly trembling, he was
really shaking.
“What is it? Tell me!”
“Just don’t feel too good all of a sudden. You mind if we just sleep?”
“Of course not.”
He let Dean past and quickly finished clearing the bathroom floor of the final
pieces of glass as the last thing he wanted was for either of them to step on
any of it in the night, and went to turn the television off. Then he returned
to his brother who had stripped to just his boxers to sleep in, and carefully
wrapped himself around him beneath the rough blankets. He wanted desperately to
ask what had just happened but forced himself not to. Not this time. Let it go,
Sam, he told himself. Let him talk to you if he wants to.
But he couldn’t help wondering.
They lay in silence for a long time. Sam couldn’t sleep, and he knew Dean
wasn’t either: he could feel how tense he had become ever since that newscast.
Finally he couldn’t stop himself.
“Who is she?”
He felt Dean start in his arms at his voice suddenly broke the silence.
“What?”
“Miss Susie? It was the name, not the broadcast. The name meant something to
you. Who is she?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You do. You just stiffened again when I said her name. Who is she?”
“Nobody. Forget it.”
“I want to know, Dean.”
“I said forget it!”
“No, Dean!”
“For fuck’s sake! You want to know everything! If we were normal partners
starting out, you wouldn’t know anything about me! Why do we have to do this
every time?” And with that he was pushing Sam away from him, and getting up and
crossing in a rage to sleep in the other bed.
Sam lay and tried to calm himself down before he also lost his temper. Then he
was also out of the bed and approaching his brother. With one quick movement he
had tugged away the covers and climbed on top of Dean, pushing his legs apart
with his own and deliberately using both his own shins to hold his brother’s
inner thighs apart and down, while at the same time catching and holding his
brother’s hands either side of his head in a pin movement using the full weight
and strength of his shoulders, arm and chest. Then he sighed as he felt Dean’s
sharp intake of breath and recognised it for what it was.
He had irreversibly changed their dynamics just that three or four months ago.
He always thought of Dean as being the physically stronger of the two of them:
certainly he had seldom ever beaten Dean in a full-on fist fight, the most
obvious exception being when he had been juiced up on demon juice. And possibly
Dean had always expected to be the stronger.
Until Sam had proved that if he could get Dean down somehow, then he could hold
him down with his greater weight, length, reach and probably unfairly, his
pointy knees and bony shins that caused great pain when pressed down against
tender areas of his brother’s body. And to his eternal shame, he had used that
advantage to assault Dean. And now, despite all the assurances that he kept
trying to give to his brother that that would never happen again, and despite
all the times that Dean declared he believed him, he recognised the sharp
intake of breath as being one of fear.
“Dean. I will never hurt you like that again. I swear that to you. I never
will.”
His brother remained silent and just looked up at him.
“It’s just.” Sam tried to explain. “You are and will always be my big brother.
I love you more than I will ever love anyone else and I always will. So if
someone has hurt you or upset you, then I want to hurt them back. And I’m sorry
if you think I’m interfering. But I can see you’re upset at the mention of this
woman, and I want to protect you. I always will.”
Dean still didn’t respond, but Sam dared to move. First of all was his legs: he
knew it would have been hurting his brother the way he had his legs physically
pressed down beneath his on the mattress, so he carefully moved his together
and slid down so he was lying full length between Dean’s legs instead. This
movement also meant that he removed his weight from where he had been pinning
Dean’s arms down. He was relieved to feel Dean relax a little beneath him and
move his own legs a little to ease them.
“But if you don’t want me to know, then I’ll try to not ask. But if you want to
talk to me, then I will always be ready to listen. And.” He raised himself
enough to move in for a deep kiss. “You just referred to us as partners!”
Dean ignored his tongue against his lips for a few moments, but then couldn’t
resist and parted them to allow Sam access. Sam took the chance to claim him
passionately, glad that the fight was over.
“Is your hand alright?” He asked without parting their lips.
“Yeah, it’s nothing.”
“Wrap your legs around mine.”
Dean pulled his mouth away momentarily, saw the mischievous smirk in Sam’s eyes
and sighed loudly. But he obeyed and wrapped the lower halves of his bare legs
around Sam’s so that their calves were touching. Sam moaned just at that small
contact and immediately wanted more. It wasn’t enough that his naked chest was
against Dean’s as well, he wanted all of him just as he always had, did and
always would.
Releasing Dean’s hands completely, he grappled to pull his own sweatpants and
Dean’s boxers down. As usual he was achingly hard and Dean quickly responded
when Sam gave an indecent roll of his belly and hips and rubbed himself against
his groin, thrilling to feel his brother’s cock responding to the sweet
friction. He managed to move one of his legs to straddle Dean’s muscular thigh,
thus ensuring the maximum contact and perfect angle for them both, nearly
ripping the thin material of his sweatpants apart and not caring in the
slightest.
Dean moaned slightly and accepted Sam’s mouth and tongue back in his own as Sam
leant to continue the kiss. He fumbled to catch Dean’s hands in his again, this
time spreading them wide away from their bodies, interlocking his long fingers
with Dean’s smaller calloused ones. He thrilled as he felt his brother smile
beneath his lips at this, having realised from the get-go that this was a ‘Sam’
thing.
Indeed Dean was content to lie beneath Sam and let him control the heat of
desire that was rising between their bodies as Sam continued to rub and rut
against him. Sam began to increase the pressure and soon he heard Dean’s breath
begin to catch and turn into gasps, followed by moans. Sam smirked and pressed
that bit harder, for that moment longer, at just that slightly slower speed,
repeated it and kept on doing so until Dean cried out, arched his back and came
between their bodies.
The sudden warmth and slick was enough for Sam to follow. He kept going with
his thrusts to ensure Dean was fully satisfied as their combined climaxes
trickled over their groins and stomachs. Only once he was sure Dean was done
did Sam still his hips and instead just lay for a few minutes in silence on top
of him while they allowed their heart beats to settle into a more normal
rhythm.
“We okay?”
“You just did that and you have to ask?”
“I just worry about you. I don’t like to think of anyone hurting you.”
“Forget it. It’s don’t matter. It’s done.”
“Okay. But if you ever want to talk. Or need to…. I’ll always be here.”
Dean grunted. “I need some sleep.”
Sam stirred enough to struggle his way fully out of his sweatpants without
moving from his position on top of his brother, and used them to wipe himself
and Dean as clean as he could before dropping them over the side of the bed.
Dean watched him from beneath half-closed eyelids.
“You’re not going to get off me, are you?”
“Not until I have to.”
Dean sighed and put his arms around him. “Wriggle down.”
Sam did, sliding down Dean’s body enough to rest his head against the top of
his brother’s chest, slipping his arms around his waist as he did so. He wished
he could get Dean to talk to him: there was something going on. He had never
seen his brother react to anything like he had earlier that evening and it was
something else that he was desperate to know about him. But the desire to know
had to be tempered against the knowledge that if he pushed too much, Dean would
probably take off again. And that was by far the worst of the two evils.
So instead he just lay and listened to Dean’s heart as it lulled him to sleep.
It was hours later when he was disturbed by a noise, he wasn’t sure what. Then
it was there again and he realised it was from Dean, he was whimpering and
shaking on the bed beside him. Sam reached over to put an arm around him, but
that didn’t help, in fact it only seemed as if it brought the next part on
faster.
Dean winced in his sleep, threw off Sam’s arm with aggression, but then buried
his head and neck beneath his arms and hands as if....as if defensively. He was
protecting his head, curling himself up into a ball, and whimpering.
Sam sat right up and watched the nightmare unfold in alarm. He could see Dean’s
body clench and start and wince as if being struck by numerous blows, punches,
kicks. He could hear the cries of pain that Dean was now giving out. He almost
expected to see blood pouring from opening wounds, and feel welts rising on his
brother’s skin. This was more than a nightmare, he realised. This was a memory,
triggered by whatever had made his brother turn pale and look faint earlier
that evening. A memory from Hell perhaps.
But even as Sam watched, helpless to do anything, afraid to try and wake Dean
in case that turned out to be a wrong move, it started to go through his head
that he had seen this before. Seen Dean have this nightmare before. Long ago.
Before Hell. Long before his brother’s forty years in Hell. Long before he went
to Stanford even.
He could remember as a teenager watching Dean have this nightmare, even
remembered once their father sitting quietly beside the bed watching Dean have
this nightmare. And it was the same one, he knew, because he was ready for when
his brother suddenly turned aggressive in his sleep, punching and swinging and
slashing with some weapon that he had grabbed in his head, until he had fought
away whatever was attacking him. And then, this time, Sam swung his large body
over the bed so his head was right by Dean’s mouth, to hear the whisper that he
had never managed to catch before: “Miss Susie?” It was a question, gently
asked. And then Dean would settle finally into pure deep dreamless sleep.
Sam had forgotten this. It had only happened for a couple of years then either
Dean had managed to send the memory down into wherever he internally stowed all
of the bad crap in his life, or Sam had become immune to the nightmare and
simply slept through it.
He sighed: he was wide awake now. Part of him wanted to hug his brother to him
and help to soothe him, but the other part was wondering – why now? What had
brought the nightmare on now? Just those words from the television – Miss
Susie? Or was it linked to the other thing that Sam was desperate to know and
Dean was equally desperate not to tell? Was it that much of a coincidence that
Dean had not had the nightmare for so long, until now?
He climbed out of the bed, covered Dean up with the blankets and moved to find
his laptop. What a way to start a search, he thought, ‘Miss Susie’. Whatever
will that bring up?
He wasn’t surprised when thousands of Susie’s appeared on the list. Okay then,
try ‘Miss Susie’ and ‘rape’. Still quite a list, god there were some sick human
beings around, but it was a shorter list than the other at least. And he had
nowhere else to start.
Susie Hamber, Susie Trent, Susie Gobeer, sick, sick sick, what some people put
on the internet.
What was this one?Miss Susie Duvrais, only daughter of the infamous Creole
witch Dana Duvrais, (Sam snorted, yeah right, a witch!),went missing in 1955
aged just 14. Her remains were not discovered until her family home in Anacoco,
Louisiana was raided in 1996.
Or the next one, Susie Honourez, disappeared in1980, her body found raped and
murdered 4 days later.
And yet another, a name linked to a series of rapes in Nebraska in 2003.
‘Wanted for information as to the whereabouts of...’
Something was niggling at Sam: Anacoco? He remembered that town. If it could be
called a town. He remembered driving through it on the way to Lee Elementary in
Leesville – his favourite ever school. Not that he knew it would be his
favourite ever school at the time, but it had been simply because of the field
trip. Sam closed his eyes as he fondly remembered that trip.
Dad had dropped them off at the motel. “I’ve paid for two weeks, you get your
brother and yourself into the school.” This was to Dean, he must have been
about fifteen, Sam was ten, nearly eleven. “Here’s some money for food, make it
last,” and he drove off.
Sam could vividly remember Dean’s expression as he counted the six ten dollar
bills.
“How is that going to last?” he remembered asking.
Remembered Dean sighing and shaking his head. Sam could remember, he had
forgotten, but now he could remember that there had been a slight tension
between his older brother and his father for some time, and that his father had
been leaving them with less and less money every time, not more as would have
been expected as they got older and hungrier.
Anyway that had all paled beside the big news. He had gone into his new class,
it was a thursday, scared and new, he should have been used to it by then but
he never was, and the teacher had been surprised and more than a little
worried. Because the entire class, it wasn’t a big school, only a small town
one, but the entire class were going on a subsidised field trip that Saturday,
for a whole week, to Washington DC no less, and they were going to the museums,
and to explore that great city. They were all going, the whole class. In two
days.
He could remember how hard he had cried, how much he had wanted to go. And the
principal of the school had come and spoken to him and suggested that perhaps,
if his father could find one hundred and twenty dollars by the next day to pay
for it, they might be able to get in touch with the hotel and the museums, and
all the others, and arrange for an extra child to go. If he could get the one
hundred and twenty by tomorrow.
Sam kept his eyes closed. He could remember racing out of his school despite
shouts, finding Dean’s school, finding his class, hauling him physically out of
the room, oh how he must have embarrassed him on his first day there, how Dean
had listened, how he had pursed his lips and thought, how he had returned with
Sam and spoken to the principal, how he had promised to ‘wire their dad right
then and get that money, just get Sam on that trip please Sir’.
He had given Sam the motel key and told him not to worry and to go back to
class. He was fifteen.
Sam hadn’t been able to contain himself all day, sick with excitement and sick
with worry that it wouldn’t happen. Dean hadn’t been there when he had got back
to the motel, didn’t reappear until nearly midnight when Sam was beside himself
with worry and just about to call their father himself. But he had produced
dollars, lots of them from his pockets, nearly two hundred dollars in all,
‘enough for your trip, and enough for spending money, Sam.’
Now Sam opened his eyes and frowned. He could remember dancing round Dean with
excitement then, but when he thought about it now? How the hell had his brother
got two hundred dollars in one day? He had assumed even then that Dean had
stolen it, and he was ashamed now just how much he had taken that as normal,
but still...two hundred dollars? That had been a lot of money, had he done a
burglary?
He knew Dean had done that, did do that. Hell, he remembered how angry their
dad had been when he got caught for doing that – letting them down by actually
getting caught! But that was usually for small things, often just food, or that
one year when he stole those Christmas presents for Sam that had turned out to
be all girl's toys. But two hundred dollars in loose notes from a burglary?
Well, okay, someone might have been saving that, he supposed. But then why
would Dean have been so late back? Perhaps it had been a robbery from a store
instead? Or....Sam didn’t want to think about how else his brother could have
got that money in one day.
But he remembered how tired and in pain Dean had looked. How he had just wanted
to shower and go to bed. Sam could remember how he tried to get Dean to eat up
the can of macaroni cheese he had left for him, but Dean didn’t even want that.
Although that had been nothing new – Sam could never remember Dean eating when
they were younger. With their dad yes, but not when it was just them, well
sometimes, when they knew they had enough money or food to definitely last them
the required time to wait. And he knew Dean ate now, he was always ribbing Dean
mercilessly as to how much he ate now! But when he thought about it, he could
never remember Dean eating with him when they were on their own in the motels.
He had always ‘just eaten’, or would ‘eat later’, although the food never
looked like it had been touched to Sam’s watchful young eyes.
Sam blinked. Looking back on his childhood, what there had been of it, no that
wasn’t fair because Dean had tried to make it a childhood for him despite their
father, but, well - looking back on it now with adult eyes meant suddenly to
see it all so differently.
Dean had always found them money, found them, well, Sam, enough food, found
enough for what they needed, or what he, Sam, wanted.
That laptop!
Sam could see it now, his first laptop, his pride and joy when he was thirteen
and was desperate for one for his schoolwork. It was a good one, possibly even
better than their father’s one was. He remembered how irritated his dad had
been, how he had looked at Dean “What the hell did you do to get that?”
And Dean had ignored his father, just told him, Sam, not to worry, to
concentrate on getting good grades. And Sam could remember that fight between
Dean and his dad, memorable for being one of the few they ever had, when John
had demanded to sell the laptop, Sam’s laptop , because he needed to buy
‘important things’ like information and ammunition and Dean had stood up to
him, got right up in his face and told him he wasn’t to touch that laptop,
ever, ‘cos that was Sammy’s property’.
In fact Sam could only ever remember them having two such fights, the other a
few years before then, when Dean himself must have been about thirteen and they
had come to blows. Well, their father had. He was drunk as usual, and wanted to
go and walk it off, and wanted Dean to go with him, and Dean had refused and
told him he wasn’t going outside with him anymore, and John had swung his huge
fist, just once. Sent Dean right across the room, knocked him out completely,
then gone for him with his booted feet.
Sam could never remember John hitting him before: sure he got drunk and yelled,
shouted a lot, until Sam cried and Dean would get yelled at for that, but never
actually struck at them before. Sam could remember screaming at him to stop.
And then he had grabbed up his recently emptied bottle of whisky and hurled it
at Dean’s prone body. Luckily it had missed, but instead smashed against the
wall beside his head instead. Then John had stormed out and gone awol for two
days, leaving Sam in a blubbery, snotty mess hiding beside a chair and his
brother a bloody, bruised huddle in the corner.
He had run over to Dean, thought his jaw was broken but it turned out not to
have been so. But the left side of his face had blown up to more than double
the other, and he was blackened and swollen for weeks.
Dean had been so concussed he could hardly hold his head up straight when he
had come round and didn’t get off the floor for ages. Sam didn’t point out to
him how he had wet himself, he just helped Dean up when he was finally ready to
try and move, and helped him clean and bandage himself up and lie down on the
bed with Sam besides him.
That was the first time, Sam realised, that he had wanted more than just a
brotherly hug from Dean. He had wanted reassurance, wanted his brother’s broken
but strong body to lie alongside his always, to protect him from the life that
they were being forced to live, wanted it to be just them, wanted his father
never to come back, they were better off without him, wanted to be ‘normal’.
He had tried to console Dean once Dean’s head had cleared enough to listen,
told him: “I’ll go with dad next time, you don’t have to.”
He hadn’t understood, didn’t understand even now why Dean had got so angry with
him, his little brother. What had Sam said to make Dean suddenly so angry at
him?
“Don’t you ever,ever, do that! If he suggests it, you run to me, you hear me,
you run to me, Sam, and I’ll, I’ll, kill him if he ever suggests that to you.”
Child Sam had cried and been consoled by his big brother: adult Sam looking
back suddenly, for the first time in a very long time, began to wonder what
that fight had been about, because he had never known.
Only that John had returned, looked at Dean’s swollen face, the left eye that
he was still unable to open two days later, and his battered and stiff body,
grunted a ‘sorry’ and nothing more was ever said about it.
Sam swallowed hard and came back to reality. What had that fight been about?
How did Dean get that money? Why was he only just asking himself now, after all
these years? Why did there seem to be a whole side to Dean that he was only
just starting to realise that he didn’t have a clue about? And who was this
Miss Susie?
He clicked on the story that had set his mind wandering into memories: Miss
Susie Duvrais, only daughter of the infamous Creole witch Dana Duvrais, went
missing in 1955 aged just 14. Her remains were not discovered until her family
home in Anacoco, Louisiana was raided in 1996 after an anonymous tip off.
Besides her remains were found the remains of 13 missing children, mainly
teenage boys, who had been reported missing over the previous three decades.
Her three brothers, who had still lived in the family home, and who are
presumed responsible for the murders, were never found, although a large
recently burnt pile of ash in the front yard produced remains of human
fragments, enough to suggest that that could have been them.
Sam stopped, read the date again. He could have told anyone exactly where he
was on that date: standing staring at the Washington memorial and it’s
reflection in the water, the enormity of the occasion seared into his brain
even now. That trip, that whole trip should have been first on his list of
happy memories for Dean to see that time they went to Heaven together, if that
fucking angel Zachariah hadn’t manipulated them to try and break his brother’s
will. That was one of his happiest times, all because of Dean. And on that
date, that exact date, an anonymous tip off had alerted police to a gruesome
series of murders, in near enough the exact location where Dean would have
been, should have been. And the burnt bodies? How many bodies had he helped his
brother burn? How many had his brother burnt without any help?
Sam felt himself begin to sweat, that was just too much of a coincidence. Dean
had been there somehow, and given his nightmares, not in a good way. And....
Sam felt sure that the rape was involved here. He felt anger surge through him:
three men, they had been three grown men. Against teenage boys. Against his
fifteen year old brother. And he had never known, never even suspected. But now
he had to know.
He stared across the room at Dean. ‘How did you keep us alive? What did you
used to do to keep us alive? What did it cost you?’ he thought. He should have
asked before. But he had to know now. He had to know what he should have asked
twenty years before.
As Dean stirred finally, Sam crossed to him and knelt beside the bed, reaching
to stroke his brother’s face. “You okay? You had a really bad nightmare. I was
worried.”
“I’m good.”
There was that lie again. Sam had grown so used to it that the words barely
registered any more, but now, for the first time in a long time, he wondered
what lay beneath them, what secrets had been kept from him.
He’d always prided himself on being clever, on being knowledgeable. When it now
seemed that he hadn’t known squat, and still didn’t about his own big brother.
He had to know the truth even though he knew there would be consequences to
knowing. And he knew he had to be careful how he did it.
***** Asking Bobby for Help *****
“You going to tell me what the hell’s going on?”
Sam winced at Bobby’s tone. He had debated with himself over and over about
calling the older man, but he knew he needed help if he was ever going to get
the truth from his brother. And although he didn’t want to break Dean’s trust
in him, he knew that Bobby would be just as horrified as Sam was if he thought
there was any chance at all that Dean had done what his younger brother was
starting to be so afraid that he had.
Sam knew though, that his own life would be in jeopardy if Bobby knew the whole
story about him and Dean. He would have to play this conversation so carefully.
And those first words from Bobby’s lips had all but shattered his carefully
rehearsed speech.
“You and Dean. Whatcha fighting about now? There’s something, I know there is.”
“Yes there is, Bobby.” Sam took a deep breath. “And you’re not going to like
it. But I really need your help.”
“I’m listening, boy.”
Sam tried to calm himself down and risked a glance at the motel room door. It
was early in the morning where they were and he had come outside to stand in
the shadows at the end of the row of rooms, watching the door in case Dean came
out looking for him when he woke up, but far enough away not to be seen or
heard by anyone. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to be overheard by
anybody.
“Okay, Bobby. I....I mean.... I found out something about Dean. I mean. I think
I have, but he won’t tell me. You know what he’s like. But I can’t leave it, I
can’t let it go.”
“You going to start making sense soon?”
“Bobby. I...”
“Just spit it out Sam.”
Sam tried to breathe: in, out, in, speak.
“I think. Well, no. I know. I know because he told me. We were having an
argument and he told me that he’d been. He told me that he’s been raped, Bobby.
But he won’t tell me by who. Or whom. Cos it was more than one, Bobby. A gang-
rape. It was a gang-rape, Bobby. But he won’t tell me anymore about it. And I
can’t let it go, Bobby, I just can’t....”
There was a long, long silence from the other end of the line. Long enough that
Sam started to wonder if they had been disconnected.
“Bobby?”
He heard a sound, a sound like somebody had forgotten to breathe for a very
long time, and when they did, it all just hurt too much.
“You’re sure, Sam?” The pain in Bobby’s voice was so strong it felt like a
physical thing emerging from the speaker. “He told you this?”
“Yes, Bobby. We were having an argument and, well I said something and it came
out. And then he immediately clammed up tighter than....I don’t know what could
clam up tighter than Dean. He’s a unique species on his own. But Bobby. He says
it’s none of my business and I should forget it. But I can’t Bobby, I can’t
and...”
“And?”
“He had a nightmare. I think the argument triggered it. But I remember that
nightmare from years ago, Bobby. I remember it as a kid. And I went looking on
the internet and I... Well to be honest, I could do with your opinion because
perhaps I’m making jigsaws out of plain paper scraps, but. It fits, Bobby. The
dates fit. I think it...or something happened when I was on that trip to
Washington because the dates fit! Do you remember? When I was a kid?”
“I remember that, Sam. You talked about nothing else for months. And your dad
was so angry about it. And angry with Dean for letting you go. And angry with
him for...”
“Angry with him for what?” He had caught Sam’s attention.
There was another long pause.
“I never really knew, Sam. Just that your dad was real angry about something.
Real angry. Said that boy was going to get himself killed and he was damn well
going to be going with him from then on, and you were just going to have to
manage on your own. But I never knew what it was actually about. Only that Dean
hardly spoke to me or him. Or you, although you were making enough noise for
three, blethering on about that trip. And John was real angry.”
“I think I know, Bobby.”
This was it. This was the big betrayal of his brother. Sam didn’t want to say
it, he didn’t want to even think it, but he had to because he had to know.
“Know what, Sam?”
Bobby’s voice was low and quiet, but Sam knew he was listening intently.
“I...”
“It’s something I’m not going to like, is it?”
“It’s not something I like either, Bobby. That’s why I have to know. I have
to.” This last was almost whispered.
“Go on, boy.”
Sam took a deep breath and forced himself to say the words. “I think. Well,
Bobby. That trip was subsidised but it was still over one hundred dollars and
Dean got it all in one night. More even! Way more, Bobby! He came back with
around two hundred in all. In one night! I know he didn’t get it from dad! And
I think if he’d robbed somewhere, then he would have told me. I mean, I know he
went burgling: for god’s sake how many records has he got in how many counties?
I know he went pick-pocketing. He still does, we both do! I know about all
that. So if he’d robbed somewhere, he would have told me. He would tell me.
But....”
“He hasn’t and he won’t.” Bobby finished his sentence for him. There was
another long silence.
“Sam. What exactly are you trying to say?”
“Bobby. I think. I don’t want to think. But I think.” Oh god how hard was this?
“I think he may have been selling himself. To get us money. And I think he put
himself in serious danger by doing it.”
He heard the sharp intake of breath and waited for a response. Waited a long
time.
“Bobby?”
“I’m here, boy.” He could hear the crack in Bobby’s voice as he spoke.
“I don’t know what to do, Bobby. He won’t talk to me and I can’t let it go. He
got so angry about me asking that he disappeared for three days and I found him
so drunk that I thought that this was the time he was never going to wake up
again. I know I should leave it in the past, but…”
“But this isn’t something that can be.”
Sam could have cried at the strength and determination that now could now be
heard in the old man’s voice. “No. This isn’t something that can be a secret.
Not from us. What do you want me to do?”
“I need your support, Bobby. Need someone else to go at him. To stop him from
running because he will. He will, believe me. I don’t know how we’ll get him to
tell us but I have to know. I have to know who hurt him and when, and…..”
“I get it, son. You bring him here. No. Actually I’ll get him here. I’ll make
some excuse, tie him in the basement if we have to. Get him drunk, or angry, or
something. But he’ll tell us.” Sam could almost hear his brain whirring down
the phone line. “There’s something attacking people in a national park in New
Jersey. Could be a werewolf. We’ll all go and see to it all together, then I’ll
get him here to Rufus’s cabin. We’ll get it out of him. He can’t keep whatever
it is buried inside himself anymore.”
The wave of relief that swept over Sam was almost physical. He had help. Bobby
was going to help him.
“Thanks, Bobby.”
“Sam?”
“Yes?”
“You. Er. You said you were having an argument and rape, well the subject came
up. What were you arguing about for that to be mentioned?”
“Oh.” Sam hadn’t been expecting that, he knew he sounded as awkward as he felt.
“It was something and nothing, Bobby. Nothing to worry about.”
“Mmm.” He could hear the doubt in the voice.
Sam tried to rally himself. “Why?”
“Oh nothing. It was just. Well. When you had lost your soul, and Dean finally
found out. Well. You and Dean. I mean,him and Dean. Well there was something
wrong. I mean. Dean always seemed nervous around him. He tried to hide it, but
I know Dean. Something was wrong. And he, you, he used to watch Dean. All the
time. Had that ….cold smile. Always that smile, and you watched him all the
time, like a predator. You were always watching him.Always. Never took your
eyes off him, unless he was looking of course. But the moment Dean turned away,
there were your eyes watching him again. Gave me the creeps, it really did.
There was something wrong, there was. But. I just. I mean. You can remember
what that Sam did, can’t you? You never? I mean, he never….hurt Dean, did he?”
“Oh Bobby.” Sam felt the shame all over again. “Yes. Yes, he did. And I didn’t
know. I buried all my memories of him. Well. Until a couple of months ago. Then
I remembered. I couldn’t believe it. I can’t believe it. I. He. Forced Dean.
Into bed. I forced him into my bed so many times. Oh Bobby, I can’t believe
what I did to him.”
“Oh my god.”
“Don’t blame Dean!” Sam suddenly realised how this was all sounding. “He never.
He was so scared of losing me. I mean thereal me. He knew that sick bastard
wasn’t me. Not that Sam. But he was so worried that I’d never come back. He
didn’t dare fight back in case he somehow caused me never to come back. Oh
Bobby. He must have felt he was trapped in a nightmare!”
“Oh Sam.”
It was a heartfelt sigh. “And this was what the argument was all about? About
that Sam and what he did?”
“Yeah. Mostly.”
“Sam?”
Shit. Bobby was always so fucking quick to pick up on pauses.
“You haven’t hurt him, have you? You wouldn’t do anything like that, would you?
Becausethat Sam must have got the idea from somewhere?”
“I….”
“Sam? Tell me you don’t have feelings like that for your brother. You don’t, do
you, Sam?”
Sam couldn’t stop the tears from beginning to fall. “I. I always have had,
Bobby.” He could only just hear his own voice. He hoped with all his heart that
Bobby couldn’t hear him at all. “And I’m as bad as that Sam. I am. I caught
Dean with another man and….”
“Wait! Dean with a man?”
“A man, Bobby. I didn’t know either. Another thing I didn’t know. I caught Dean
with a man and I… I was so angry, Bobby. And so jealous. I raped him, Bobby.
Me. No excuse, no soul missing, no possession, no spells. Just me. And you know
the worst part, Bobby?”
He paused, waited for the explosion of anger. There was nothing but an ominous
silence but he knew Bobby was still there listening.
“The worst bit is that I can’t forgive myself. But he forgave me, just like he
always does. He told me that he didn’t count what I did to him as rape, because
he knew what rape really was! And then I asked him what he meant. And got angry
at him because he wouldn’t tell me who had hurt him. And we argued about it, we
really argued about it until he took off. After whatI had just done, Bobby! I’m
so ashamed of myself. I can’t believe that I could do that. Not to anyone, But
especially not to Dean.
But now he wants to leave it. Says it’s all in the past. But I can’t, Bobby.
I’ve got to know who hurt him, and when, and how he got that money? Was he
going out doing...? Was it for me that he got so badly hurt? I’m sorry, Bobby.
Please don’t hate me. Whatever you’re thinking of me, it can’t be any worse
than what I think of me. Bobby?”
This time he did wait for the other to speak. He couldn’t say anymore. He just
waited for the condemnation that he knew would be coming. Because he knew he
deserved it.
“It was only the once, Sam? Not that I’m condoning that. You did a terrible
thing. Towards your own brother as well. But. That was it, wasn’t it? You’d
never hurt him like that again? Or do anything like that to him, would you,
Sam? You’re leaving him alone now, aren’t you?”
How did he know? Not for the first time, Sam thought that Bobby had powers of
some sort. But he knew he had to answer.
His voice all but failed him. “I can’t. I love him, Bobby. I offered to leave
and he…. It’s complicated.”
“You’re blackmailing him, you son of a bitch!” Sam winced at the ferocity of
anger in Bobby’s voice. The only thing he could be grateful for was that this
conversation wasn’t taking place face to face, because he knew he’d probably be
very seriously hurt by then. And he would have deserved it.
“How could you? Where are all your high morals and your fancy education? Always
to your rules, isn’t it, Sam? John always said your brother’s love for you
would be the death of him, cos he couldn’t see what a selfish little brat you
are and a bully to boot!”
Sam had never heard Bobby so angry, his tears fell harder.
“He was right, wasn’t he? Everything you’ve ever wanted, you’ve either cajoled
or harassed Dean into doing or getting for you. And then you’ve just thrown it
all back in his face! He’d do anything for you! Goddam went to Hell for you!
Wasn’t that enough?
But no. Not for you. Are you seriously telling me that he’d come to your bed of
his own accord? And how long are you going to stay for this time, Sam? Til you
decide you want to be ‘normal’ again? Cos let me tell you about normal, Sam.
Normal people don’t rape their own brothers, Sam. Which version of you is the
sickest, Sam? Soulless or normal Sam? Cos as far as I can see, there ain’t no
frigging difference!”
The line was disconnected suddenly. Sam stood with tears running down his face
and felt like he had run a marathon. Because that had all gone wrong. He had
been trying to convince himself that it was okay, that what he was asking Dean
to do was somehow acceptable, but it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t.
He had never heard Bobby talk to him like that. He had never heard Bobby talk
to anyone like that! And worst of all he knew he was right. He was sick.
Completely sick in the head. He didn’t need Lucifer’s influence to do such a
terrible thing.
He should stop this. Try and go back to what they were. But even as he thought
that, he knew he wouldn’t. Because he finally had the only thing that he had
ever really wanted. It had taken him a lot of years to realise what that was.
And it was his brother.
Sam really, truly, loved his brother. And Bobby was correct when he called Sam
selfish because he couldn’t give him up. And Bobby had been right when he said
he was blackmailing Dean into their relationship by playing on his fears about
Sam leaving. But what Bobby would never understand, and what Dean was only just
starting to realise, was that Sam would always come back just because he simply
couldn’t stay away from his brother! Especially not now he had finally taken
the step and admitted how he felt.
Yes, his brother may love him far too much, but he was completely addicted to
Dean as well! He just wanted to live, breath and be with him every day of the
rest of his life.
So sorry, Bobby. Sam wiped his tears away and hoped to try to sneak back into
the room and wash his face clean before his brother woke up. He wasn’t going to
stop being with Dean despite what the older man had said or thought of him. He
wanted to be with him and the only thing that mattered was whether Dean was
happy to be with him as well. So Sam was determined that that was what he was
going to make sure of. More than determined. It was all that mattered to him.
That Dean was okay with this.
Sam was going to support him, protect him, defend him, do whatever it took to
keep Dean happy to be with him. Somehow he would manage to make Dean want him
as much as he did Dean. And as long as they were both happy with that then it
was nobody else’s damn business!
***** The Worst Thing Ever *****
They were both sitting in the small cabin that they now called home. They had
been for a long time. Neither speaking. Both numb. Bobby was dead.
Bobby was dead.
Dean looked over at Sam. He was just bereft, stunned. He didn’t know what to do
or say. What could he say? The last constant in his life apart from his brother
was gone. Hell, the only constant in his life aside from Sam, was gone. Bobby
was dead.
Sam noticed him looking and returned the gaze with the same expression that
Dean felt himself to have. He blinked and looked away. He could feel the tears
at the backs of his eyes but he couldn’t let them go.
He felt Sam watching him but he couldn’t force himself to look back at him
again. Then Sam had turned away as well, his thoughts and emotions also hidden
as he returned his gaze to absolutely nothing.
They sat like that for a long time.
It was Sam who finally managed to move first. He didn’t speak, he just got up
from the chair and went to check the main door was locked securely, then
approached his desolated brother and held out his hand.
Dean came to enough to slightly shake his head at him. “Sammy. I....”
“No.” Dean looked up at Sam’s firm expression. “Come on, Dean. Come on.”
It wasn’t an order, just a request. Just an ‘I need you becauseI need you’.
Dean stared at nothing for a long few minutes then reached to take Sam’s hand
and stood up himself.
Sam led him to the small bedroom that they shared, supposedly in each of the
two separate single beds. He pushed Dean to sit on one and began to undress him
as calmly and carefully and matter of factly as a parent would do with a
tearfully upset and emotionally wrought child. With the exception that Dean was
completely naked by the time Sam had drawn back the covers and pushed him
bodily to lie on the bed.
As Sam undressed himself as well, it was a good job that neither could see the
brand new ghost in the corner of the room, watching them with rising
indignation.
“I’m dead and you’re gonna....! Oh, this is you, Sam Winchester! You leave him
alone! I can’t watch this!”
But he did. Because he was there and he wasn’t sure how to go, and he was
worried he might not be able to get back, and hell, even seeing those two
idgits like this was better than not seeing them at all.
By this time Sam was in the bed on top of Dean with the covers over them both,
and was beginning to kiss his face. Not his mouth, but everywhere else. Small
gentle kisses all over, from Dean’s forehead to his jaw, from his ears to his
neck, all accompanied by the words that he was murmuring over and over again
between the mouthed caress: “I know. I know.”
Despite himself, Bobby crept closer so he could watch Dean’s face. The boy was
totally bereft, there were tears almost in his eyes, Bobby could see the slight
glistening but it was as if Dean wouldn’t let them come. No, he realised, Dean
couldn’t let them come. He was too emotionally distraught at the minute to even
be able to cry.
If Bobby’s heart had been beating, it would have been broken and stopped all
over again at watching Dean’s face. How he loved this boy. Both the boys,
despite how angry he had been and still was at Sam. He loved them both. But
Dean? Dean was the one that he called ‘son’ and meant it. He would have given
anything to be able to console him at that moment.
His anger at Sam flared back as he raised himself up a little to look down at
his brother. When Dean didn’t respond for a moment, he gently cupped his cheek
and jaw in his hand but said nothing until Dean had come out of his internal
daze enough to return the attention.
“May I?”
Dean stared at him blankly then frowned slightly. “Sam. I....”
“It’ll be okay, Dean. Let me. Please. It’ll be okay.”
Dean didn’t understand how anything could ever be okay again, but he trusted
Sam so he nodded. Sam moved his upper body enough to reach his hand to the
small bedside table and fumbled for the lube that had been carefully hidden
beneath everything else. As he found it and withdrew his hand, Bobby stared in
disgust.
 “Oh, you’re not gonna? Not here? Not now? Jesus, I can’t watch this!”
But he stayed because he wasn’t sure if he could get back if he left. And no
matter what, no matter what he had to put up with or see, he didn’t want to be
anywhere but close to Dean.
Sam quickly slicked himself beneath the covers and raised Dean’s hips so he
could squirt some straight into him. Then he lined up.
Dean came to with a blink. “No prep?”
“I’ll be gentle, Dean. I promise. It’ll be okay.”
He pulled Dean’s legs around his waist beneath the blankets and carefully and
slowly entered him, easing in a little at a time. He watched Dean’s face as if
it were a brand new and exciting specimen in a laboratory, pausing and waiting
on every slight pained gasp of breath, noting every new bead of sweat, kissing
his face gently on every micrometer of widening of his eyes. But Dean said
nothing. He just let Sam enter him because he trusted him to keep his word.
Only when Sam was fully in, and he was sure that Dean was alright and as
comfortable as he could be, did he begin to gently thrust. And it was gentle.
Because this wasn’t about rampant sex. This was about Dean. This was the only
way that Sam could think of to help him.
As he adjusted his angle he found the spot in Dean that made his brother gasp
automatically and caused him to raise his hips because his body wanted to, even
though his mind wasn’t really fully in that room and instead was lost in
memories of a man that he had loved so, so dearly. And as he found that spot
and as Dean’s body reacted, and the pressure began to grow inside him, so Dean
began to lose what little control he had left. And, as was the intention, he
lost what little control he had or hadn’t over his tears.
Bobby watched in amazement as finally the moisture gathered and shone in Dean’s
eyes and spilled over. He wanted to wipe them away for him.
Dean moved to wipe them away himself, but Sam caught his arm and stopped him.
“Let them come, Dean. It’s okay to cry. Let them come.”
And Bobby suddenly understood.
This wasn’t about having sex. This was about allowing Dean to show his
emotions, and since he probably only did show them during sex, then that was
what Sam was letting him do. Nothing irreverential: nothing sacrilegious. Sam
knew the best way to help his brother was by doing this, so this is what he was
doing.
These two boys did such a hard job: they fought literally for the world, a
world that didn’t know they even existed. They were probably the only two
people on the planet, besides himself, that understood, Hell! that had any
chance of understanding what the life of a Winchester was and what they went
through every day. Perhaps it was understandable that they had turned to each
other for comfort.
He may not like it, may not agree with it, but it had happened. And strangely
it made Bobby suddenly glad. Because he knew that Dean would eventually be okay
about him dying. Because he had his brother Sam there to look after him.
Sam swore to himself as he accidentally brought himself to a climax. He hadn’t
intended to, all he had been concerned about was getting Dean out of that place
in his head where Sam had seen him disappearing to: he had sat watching his
brother in the main room and realised that Dean was mentally pulling back and
away from him, vanishing into that peculiar place inside himself where all the
bad was buried and Dean struggled more and more every time to resurface from.
But he supposed he should have known that his own cock would be uncontrollable
once inside his brother’s perfect body. Sam bit the insides of his lips and
kept the orgasm as understated as he could, gasping and panting as quietly as
he was able to control the moans and attempting to contain the tremors that
passed through his own limbs as his heart pounded ecstatically. He laid his
head beside his brother’s on the pillow and nuzzled into his neck as he calmed
down.
He was just grateful that Bobby couldn’t see what he was doing. Sam could
imagine the old man now and what he would be saying about ‘how disgusting he
was’ and how he couldn’t even wait a reasonable amount of time before
desecrating both his memory and his brother.
Sam rested his head beside Dean’s and thought about the last conversation he
had had with Bobby: it hadn’t been pleasant. He couldn’t believe that those
were going to be the last words that he would ever hear from his surrogate
uncle: in fact that whole last hunt had been so unpleasant. Bobby had only
spoken to him when he had had to, but his expression when he had looked at Sam
had more than made up for his silence. It had just been lucky that Dean had
eaten that spiked burger and gotten so stoned from it that he hadn’t noticed
the poisonous atmosphere building between his brother and Bobby, because Sam
wouldn’t have known where or how to start explaining it to him.
But when Dean had finally come down from the high and fallen asleep, and Sam
and Bobby had had that couple of hours with only each other for company in the
van, then Sam had received Bobby’s fully open and honest opinion of himself,
whether he wanted to hear it or not. Tears pricked his eyes now as he thought
about it: Bobby had certainly pulled no punches. But those would be the last
words he would ever hear from that gruff voice, and that hurt worse than
anything.
Dean was now crying openly beneath him, his strong legs still wrapped around
Sam beneath the covers.
Sam moved to kiss him gently. “I’m here, Dean. I’ll always be here. It’ll be
okay. We’ll get through this together. It’ll be okay.”
Carefully he laid his head over Dean’s, his forehead resting as gently as he
could on the side of Dean’s turned face, and he finally let his own tears go
for the old man that he loved and felt he had let down so badly. His tears
dropped down onto his brother’s face and mixed with his own tears, flowing
together and merging into a steadily growing stream of intense sadness that
pooled and spread on the pillow beneath Dean’s head.
Neither brother was aware of the third head that joined them on the pillow,
laying as if it should be able to touch Dean’s. Nor were they aware of the
strong arm that went round them both. And neither noticed the increasing patch
of wetness suddenly grow as Bobby also let his own tears fall as he cried for
them and cried for himself.
Because he was dead.
***** After Emma *****
Sam rested his forehead against the cold surface of the bathroom mirror. God,
what was wrong with him? Had he always been this completely stupid bastard
where his brother was concerned? He knew he had to apologise, but he also knew
it was probably too late.
He steeled himself to go and try. At least he could try. He would just have to
take whatever the consequences of his own actions were. At least he could only
blame himself, because it was nobody else’s fault.
With a sigh he pushed the bathroom door open. Stay calm, Sam. Let him shout if
he needs to. No matter how upset he is at you, don’t forget this was your
doing. You deserve what he says and does.
Dean was sitting on his bed concentrating on his laptop. He didn’t look round
at Sam, who could see the firm set of his brother’s jaw just from the
silhouette. Sam waited a minute to gather his nerves. He knew he had to try.
Crossing quickly to Dean’s side, he had removed the laptop from his brother’s
hands, closed it and put it aside before Dean had realised. Even as his face
darkened and he began angrily to get up, Sam was catching at his body and
sliding him physically down the bed. Caught off-balance, Dean momentarily
toppled backwards onto his back. Sam quickly climbed on top of him, knocking
his legs apart with his own so he could lie between them full length on his now
prone brother.
“For god’s sake, Sam!”
He winced at the anger in Dean’s voice but he caught for his hands with his,
lacing his longer fingers between his brother’s and pulling his hands down to
his sides, holding them still. Lastly he just laid his head into the side of
Dean’s neck. And just let himself stay there.
“I’m sorry.” It was all he could mumble.
Dean grumped and tried to get up but Sam had made himself a dead weight on top
of him.
“I’m sorry I acted so stupidly. More than stupid. You were right. And I’ve been
such a bastard to you.”
Dean stopped trying to get his hands back from Sam’s strong grip and lay back
with definite bad grace. He didn’t bother to respond.
All Sam could do was keep trying.
He had been so jealous because Dean had had a one night stand with a beautiful
woman while getting ‘information’ about a brutal and ritualistic series of
murders.
Well, he had thought she was a woman. In fact she had been an Amazon, and the
only reason she had spent the night with him was she wanted a child. Dean’s
child. By the very next day she had given birth to his daughter, a baby girl
who had grown into the equivalent of a sixteen year old in just three days and
then come to kill her father as part of her initiation into Amazon adulthood.
But she hadn’t.
Dean had been trying to talk her out of it. Sam had simply burst into the room,
pulled the trigger and shot her dead. Even though she hadn’t hurt a single
person.
And then, after, he had gotten really angry at his brother, told him how stupid
he had been because he hadn’t just killed his own daughter. Because she was
just a monster like Amy, so why in hell had Dean given her that chance todecide
whether to take that step? What was wrong with Dean?
He knew how unfair he had been. He was ashamed of himself and had hidden it by
getting angry at his brother, yelling at him.
But he couldn’t miss Dean’s face when he thought of his daughter: he had
already loved her unconditionally. And Sam had killed that girl because he
couldn’t take the chance that Dean might be hurt. And because he couldn’t deal
with his own possessiveness when it came to anybody hurting his brother. They’d
argued about it in the car. No. He had argued about it in the car.
Sam knew he might have lost Dean for good because of his actions that day. He
knew that might be the last straw for his brother. So all he could do was
nuzzle into Dean’s neck, and try and explain.
“You were right. And I hated admitting you were right. Because I have this
stupid, stupid high opinion of myself and think I’m clever, and why should I
listen to you? And when it’s important, it’s fucking annoying cos you’re always
right and I feel so stupid. Like a stupid little kid who’s let you down again.
You were right about Ruby and I wouldn’t listen.
And you were right about Amy. She’d killed four people who didn’t deserve to
die.
And you’re right about Emma.
She hadn’t hurt you. She’d come to, but she hadn’t. And you might have talked
her round. I know you think you could have talked her round. But what if you
hadn’t? Would you have stopped her? Or would you have let her kill you because
she was your daughter? Because that’s what I was worried about: not that you
couldn’t stop her, but that you wouldn’t. You’d let her kill you. I couldn’t
bear thinking that. Can’t bear the thought of losing you. Can’t bear the
thought of being without you.
But. I should have given her the chance. The chance I insisted Amy should have
had, even though she’d killed four people and Emma hadn’t hurt anyone at all...
But you didn’t see her eyes when she turned, Dean. She wasn’t human. She was
only three days old for god’s sake. I couldn’t take the chance that she’d hurt
you. I know I should have waited, that I’ve acted terribly. But I couldn’t take
the chance. And.”
Sam paused as he really, really didn’t want to say the next bit, but he knew
that he had to be completely open if he stood any chance of getting his brother
back. “And. If I’m really honest, I was jealous. Jealous and scared. Scared
because you’d accept her as a daughter. Scared because...”
He couldn’t make himself say it. He tried again. “I always, always go on at you
about being so protective of me. Even now, when I’m only a year or so from
being thirty. And you’ll still protect me with your life every damn time. It
drives me nuts cos I can’t bear the thought of you being hurt either. I don’t
know what I’d do without you. I’m protective of you too!
But I’m worse than that.” This was it. This is what he dreaded saying. And he
knew he could never say it if he had to face Dean, so it had to be this way,
with him just talking into his brother’s neck.
“I know I’m worse than that! Because I’m possessive of you. I couldn’t bear the
thought that that girl might get close to you. I couldn’t bear it: I was
jealous of her. Just as I used to be jealous of every girl you were with. As I
still am. And now of every man as well! Jealous of anyone who might stop you
being mine.
And that’s a terrible thing, Dean. You should have run from me. You should run.
You really should. Because there really is something wrong with me! I get petty
and stupid and I’ve walked out on you more than once, but I can’t bear the
thought of anyone else being in your life. Even your own daughter. You should
run, Dean. I’m the worst monster of all.”
He finally fell silent. Sam just stayed as still as he could, afraid to say
anything else, afraid of Dean telling him to go. Afraid of losing him because
he was just too...too...fucking stupid.
Oh, he thought he was so clever, because he enjoyed learning, he devoured
books, he was good with words. He lived for research. But he would be lost
without Dean. Really and truly. He needed him in his life.
He needed him in his personal life: he had never been so truly happy in his
personal life as he had been these last few months when to his amazement Dean
had agreed to try. His brother had tried, for him, and Sam had thrown it back
in his face by killing his daughter.
But he also needed Dean as a ....he couldn’t find the word. Sam knew he could
read every single book in the whole world but he’d still never learn as much as
his brother knew, never have the instinct. Never have the....
Sam still couldn’t define it. Dean was loved by an Angel, had been loved by an
Angel, he knew that whether Dean would ever admit it or not. But he also had a
definite friendship with the king of Hell. Sam was under no illusions that
Crowley would have killed him years ago if it weren’t for his brother. There
was something about his brother. Dean even had Death dropping by for visits,
for god’s sake!
Somehow his big brother transcended humanity. Perhaps it was apt that he had
had a half-human daughter. A daughter who Sam had killed without hesitation, or
thought, or compassion. No, Sam thought, Dean should just run from him while he
could.
And even as he thought it, Sam also knew that he would follow Dean anywhere
until he got him back somehow.
Dean still hadn’t responded. He hadn’t said a word, he hadn’t even moved
beneath Sam even though Sam was more acutely aware of his brother’s heartbeat
than he was of his own. They still had their fingers entwined together, their
heads touching together, Sam’s mouth close enough to touch Dean’s neck. To an
onlooker they would just look so relaxed, a couple in love.
But Sam wasn’t fooled. He didn’t want to loosen his grip in case Dean threw him
off. And he knew he was probably getting heavy on his brother by now. But he
didn’t want to move, or ask, or do anything in case this was the end of his
relationship with his brother.
“I was trying to talk her round, Sam. I think I could have.” Sam started at the
suddenness of Dean’s words.
“I know. I was just scared that you couldn’t. I couldn’t take the risk. I
should have waited. I know I should have. I should have let you try. But I was
scared, Dean. I can’t lose you.”
“She’s dead, Sam. She’s gone. And she never hurt anyone. Not like....”
He stopped but Sam knew what he was going to say. And he was correct to say it.
Why couldn’t Sam have just seen that instead of being so fucking stupid about
it all?
“I know she didn’t, Dean. I know. She wasn’t the monster in the room.I was. And
I can’t take it back. No matter what I do or say. And I know you must hate me.
I hate myself. I hate myself for not giving you or her the chance. I hate
myself for letting you down again.”
Sam paused for a moment. “I hate myself for hurting you again. And I won’t
blame you if you tell me to go. And I won’t push you if you never want me to
touch you again. Because I won’t. Not if you don’t want it. You’ve given me
everything, you always have. And what have I done? Thrown it all back in your
face and killed your daughter. But you didn’t see her eyes, Dean. When she
turned she wasn’t human! But I should have waited for you to make that call.”
There was a long silence.
Finally Sam became aware of Dean’s physical discomfort, he was being a dead
weight on his chest and Dean was starting to struggle beneath him.
“Do you want me to get off?”
Dean didn’t say anything but he finally and deliberately managed to loosen his
fingers from Sam’s. Sam tried not to tense, unsure of what might happen. To his
amazement, his brother slowly put his arms around him and twisted them both to
lie on their sides.
“Turn away, Sammy.”
Sam immediately obeyed, wriggling around to have his back to Dean and let him
be the bigger spoon for once, his arms still tight around his younger brother.
Sam felt such a sense of relief, felt such a wave of love wash over him towards
his always forgiving brother, especially when he knew he didn’t come near to
deserving it. He found Dean’s hands with his own again and covered them,
holding them against his waist.
“I can’t lose you, Dean, please. What with you getting taken by Cronos, and
then this. You have to stay alive. You have to promise me you’ll stay alive.”
“Do what I can, Sammy.”
“You said that before, in the car. But I mean it, Dean. I love you. I can’t
lose you. Couldn’t bear it. Please. You have to fight to stay alive for me.
Please. And I’m so sorry about Emma.”
They fell silent. Sam lay awake, afraid of the conversation continuing, afraid
of asking what would happen now? Where did they stand in their personal
relationship?
He was surprised and more than a little relieved when he realised that his
brother was softly snoring behind him. He didn’t want to risk moving too much,
but slowly and carefully managed to turn back in Dean’s arms until he was
facing him. At least he could now put his arms around Dean as well and hold him
tight to his own chest.
Dean mumbled in his sleep and nuzzled against him, his hand slipping down to
lie around Sam’s waist just as it had been accustomed to the last few months.
Sam felt like crying. Dean was still there with him. Somehow he was still
there, despite Sam acting like such a prick towards him. Carefully, gently he
pulled enough at the hem of his own t-shirt to let Dean feel the smooth, bare
skin beneath with his fingers and his brother’s hand responded of its own
accord, sliding into the warmth beneath his shirt as naturally and immediately
as a hermit crab finding comfort and sanctuary in a new shell home, curling
around Sam’s body to pull him closer to him. Sam fought down the moan that he
nearly gave lip to at his brother’s touch and fought down other urges that
lustily raised themselves. Now wasn’t the time.
But he was determined now that he was going to make it up to Dean somehow. He
couldn’t bring the dead back to life, he knew that. But he was going to do
everything he could think of to prove to his brother how much he loved him and
appreciated him, and would never, never let him down again.
***** Cas *****
Sam lay on his bed stunned. Cas was alive. He had known in his heart that he
would be because the Angel, just like them, had a track record of returning
from death. And not only was he alive, but once he had realised just what a
terrible thing he had done to Sam, by destroying the 'wall' in his head that
Death had put there to protect Sam from his own memories and to keep Lucifer at
bay, he had immediately offered himself as an alternative and the solution.
He was now the one locked up in a mental institution with the Devil playing
bongo’s every night in his head while Sam was free. And sane, or as sane as Sam
felt he could ever get again. He should be happy. He should be ecstatic. He
should be grateful.
But he wasn’t.
Because his relief at seeing Cas alive again was tempered by the knowledge
that, Cas was alive again. And Sam knew how his brother felt about him, even if
Dean himself didn’t. He had teased him unmercilessly about it. So had Bobby:
they had both joshed and joked about ‘angel boyfriends’ and how Cas would only
‘come when told to by Dean’, full inference intended, and how he would always
stand so close to his brother as if he was just about to....
But then Sam had never realised that Dean was bisexual.
And he had never before really analysed the looks that Dean would give Cas in
return, because he would, whether he admitted it or not: he was always looking
at Cas, and he was always happy with him around. And always patient, the only
person, being, that Sam had ever known Dean to be patient with, well, up to a
point anyway.
And when he had insisted of going into that water for Cas’s coat. And held it
up and just looked around with so lost an expression on his face....
Neither Sam nor Bobby had made jokes about that.
And he was alive. And suffering, just like Sam had been suffering, and Dean had
been desperate to help him. And now he was desperate to help Cas. And once he
had helped him, because Sam knew he would somehow. Because he was Dean fucking
Winchester and he would do anything, anything for the people he loved, no
matter what it took or what he had to give. When once he had, then what?
What would happen with them?
Sam was selfish. He knew he was selfish. He knew he was being selfish. He was
alive and out of that place, and free of Lucifer. And all he could think was
‘why did Cas have to come back?’
He looked over at the other bed where Dean was also laying staring at the
ceiling in disbelief. No. Not disbelief. Sam could see tears shining in his
eyes: from this angle it made the greens of them look like they were rippling,
ebbing pools that were somehow not human, but something alive, each of their
very own and completely a part of his brother. Sam blinked the image away and
shivered, he had suddenly found that very eerie and he didn’t know why.
He sat up and looked across. “I’ll go and get us something to eat. Any
preferences?”
Dean just shook his head, didn’t answer.
“I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
He headed to the store, picked up a few supplies, bought a local paper that was
announcing a large firework display that night to commemorate the anniversary
of the founding of the town, moved to a take-out and grabbed a couple of
burgers and fries. Something to eat with fingers, he thought. Returned to the
stupid little car that he had stolen, (what sort of car he had no idea and he
cared even less, but God, he missed his brother’s car). Returned to Dean,
leaving the food in the car. Wasn’t surprised when he hadn’t moved position at
all.
“Come on.”
Dean raised himself up to look at him in surprise. “What?”
“Come on. We’re going out.”
“I don’t...I’m not ...”
“We’re going out, Dean. Come on.”
He had found what he wanted, a couple of thick blankets that they always
carried with them, having been forced to sleep out in the Impala probably as
much if not more than each of them had ever slept in a bed when young.
“Now.” It was an order.
Dean stared but obeyed. With a sigh he pulled his boots on. Sam could see his
face. He was distraught, and mournful, and something else that Sam couldn’t
quite make out but didn’t want to.
“Come on.” He tried to hustle his brother along. “Let’s get going.”
He ushered Dean out of the door and bundled him into the passenger seat of the
little car, hurried around to the driver’s side and drove them away before Dean
could start to get tetchy at him.
“Where we going?”
“You’ll see.”
He drove into the hills that surrounded the small town where they had been
staying. They weren’t alone. Many cars were also driving up there, all filled
with laughing, smiling faces. All looking for a good spot to stop. Sam had
already worked out where he wanted to be, he had mapped it in his head while
waiting for the food. And he thought that they should be early enough to still
find room there.
He was right. Dean looked round at all the other cars and all the other people
as they parked up.
“What is this?”
“Come on.”
Sam loaded Dean up with the food and a six pack, grabbed the blankets himself
and led his brother down a small path to find a good vantage point, preferably
away from everyone else. There was a likely spot. On the edge of a small ledge,
plenty big enough for one blanket, hopefully not big enough for more.
Dean watched as he spread one of the blankets he was carrying down, pulling it
slightly up to cushion a handy small boulder that would be good, if not painful
after a while, to lean against. Then he settled himself down and motioned for
his brother to sit beside him.
Dean did, handing Sam the boxes and bottles before joining him. He sat up and
studied the view of the town below them with interest. “I’m taking it we’re not
here to watch a football match?”
“Fireworks!” Sam threw him the paper. “Should be good from up here.”
Dean nodded, didn’t speak, but it was a happier silence than earlier. Sam
opened the cartons and they shared the meal without needing to talk as the
whole area filled up around them with laughter and noise and the ever darkening
sky finally couldn’t be discernible from the dark of the land beneath, aside
for the town itself which was lit by the street lights.
Finally the tension in the air rose as the designated time got closer: the
conversations around them got muted as one by one, all eyes turned to watch the
display, not wanting to miss a thing. Noise levels reduced to a rumble apart
from the occasional plaintive squeals of very young children who didn’t
understand why they were there and didn’t care. All eyes were on the view
below, nobody was interested in anything around them.
Sam finally felt safe enough to move. They had already cleared up the remains
of the food and packed it to take back to the car. But now he shifted his own
body, and Dean’s who was surprised but allowed him to, until Sam was sitting
leant against that chosen boulder, his strong arms wrapped around his brother
who he had manhandled into sitting between his long legs with his back resting
against Sam’s chest, their heads close enough for him to be able to nuzzle
Dean’s with his mouth.
“Saaam.” It wasn’t a warning growl, just an uncertain one. They were in public
after all.
“I’ll let you go as soon as it’s over. No one will see. Nobody’s interested.
Nobody knows us. Just let me hold you while we watch this. Please.”
Dean nodded slightly but didn’t respond. But then neither did he pull away. Not
even when Sam took the other blanket and tucked it over them both against the
increasing chill of the night. He just half lay against his younger brother,
feeling his warmth against his back; the solidness of his chest; the strength
of his arms as he surrounded Dean’s body and covered his hands with his larger
ones; the feel of his legs either side of Dean’s body.
The fireworks were just a bonus.
It was a fantastic display. It lasted for nearly half an hour and the brothers
felt like part of something special as they oohed and ahhed with the crowd that
had arrived from all over the county to see this. And when it was finally over
and the excited conversations began again all around them and the noise grew to
untenable levels once more as people began to pack away their chairs and
blankets, and pick up their belongings, and call panicked for their over-tired
and wayward children, and decide how they could carry them back to the cars
along with every else they had brought, and exclaim loudly that why didn’t they
think to bring flashlights: so the brothers just sat and waited for the hubbub
to die down.
And as Sam had said, nobody looked at them, nobody noticed. And if they did,
all they saw were two men in love. And if they had an opinion on that, it
wasn’t the night to go spoiling by sharing it aloud.
The brothers didn’t move until most of the rest had gone. Then Dean helped Sam
to his feet, they picked their belongings up and joined the exodus to the cars.
As long as they could remember which stupid car it was they had.
And when they finally returned to the motel to get some much needed rest, Sam
felt he would almost cry with relief as Dean quietly removed his clothes and
joined his little brother in the small bed, resting his head against the side
of Sam’s chest with his arm over his body. Sam hugged him tightly, nuzzled the
top of his head with his lips and let him sleep.
He was there. With Sam. Cas was alive and back, but Dean was there with Sam.
What would happen tomorrow, Sam didn’t know. Tonight he would just appreciate
what he had.
***** The Trap *****
“Let’s just get back to the motel and discuss this, Bobby.”
How strange it seemed to say that. They were both still stunned from when they
had walked back into that large hallway and seen their surrogate uncle, their
dead surrogate uncle, standing there. Unfortunately the excitement and emotion
of the moment had dissipated extremely quickly as reality had set in. Bobby was
a ghost. They hunted ghosts for good reason. Because the longer a ghost was
trapped on earth, usually the more insane, and more dangerous, it got. And
Bobby was a ghost!
Nothing had been said until they had got into the car. Then the brothers had
discussed the situation and what to do. On reflection, they really should have
considered that there was no such thing as privacy from a ghost, but at the
time it had come as a nasty shock when he had suddenly materialised on the rear
seat and laid into the both of them verbally.
And they were both exhausted, especially Dean. It had taken a good few hours to
give Bobby’s friend Annie a proper Hunter’s send-off. Plus they had a lot of
other bones to sort out, salt and burn as well. Twice Sam had thought they had
finished. Twice he was disappointed.
Dean drove him crazy when he did this. They had only come across a serial
killer scenario a few times in their career, but each time it had ended like
this. Dean just would not leave until the last of the victims had been found
and their remains dealt with respectfully. He would get single-minded about it.
It had almost caused them to be nearly linked to a couple of scenes of multiple
murder, Sam still had nightmares about being caught on some old CCTV somewhere
and the warrants being issued.
More than once he had gotten so angry at his brother that he had simply
returned to the motel or wherever and just waited for his brother to exhaust
both his obsession and himself, finally following only when he was satisfied
that he had done the clean-up job to the best of his ability. Sam could see the
irony: he himself was fascinated with serial killers for the murderers and
crimes themselves while his brother seemed to have a strange fascination with
finding all the victims.
Which had been exactly the case here. Even though they had found a huge stash
of rotting bodies and bones in that secret room, Dean was convinced that there
were more.
“What are you talking about?” Sam had gotten very frustrated in his tiredness.
“They’re all here.”
“Not all of them.”
So Dean had kept looking. And Sam had sighed and helped him. And been amazed
when they had found a dumbwaiter bricked over in one of the walls with another
pile of bones in it. The woman had smiled broadly when she was released and
finally allowed to leave. At least that was it, they could also finally pack up
and go.
But no. Dean had still wanted to keep looking.
Sam had gotten quite narky about it. Bobby had long since disappeared to
‘recharge’ or whatever ghosts did. Sam wished he could as well. Why did Dean
always do this?
He retreated to one of the musty, dusty sofas in the main musty, dusty room. He
needed a rest for a few moments. To his chagrin, when he opened his eyes
seemingly the very next minute, the next day's dawn was beginning to break. How
long had he been asleep? And where was Dean?
With a hungry sigh, he went to look.
He was about to head up the stairs again to look through the multitude of rooms
for his brother when he felt the slight draught against his hair. It was coming
from a room at the rear: a private little drawing room. Sam poked his head in,
it didn’t look much.
“Dean?”
“Through here.”
He followed the voice, and the breeze that was now beautifully perfumed but
chilling his body. To his surprise the small room wasn’t! Unseen from the door
that he had entered by was another door that led to an old-style conservatory
that had been built to run right along most of the back of the house and look
out on to the garden. Sam could just about make out the undergrowth outside in
the gloom of dawn, all now run to weeds and tangled thorns.
The conservatory itself had been built around raised beds that, given the depth
of the hole that Dean was in, had originally been part of the land outside with
the room built around them. Sam could see guttering and pipes strategically
laid to catch rainwater and perpetually water the plants inside. And they were
all in bloom: beautiful….lilies? Orchids? Sam didn’t know but the various
scents were overwhelming all his senses. And as he shone his flashlight around,
the colours and variations of the flowers were also striking. Perfect tropical
blooms, all alive and flourishing in this old beginning to crumble
conservatory. Sam could appreciate that this must have been a lovely place to
relax in when it had been first built: he would have taken breakfast in there
every morning if it were him.
Dean was down at the furthest end, absolutely filthy, completed exhausted. He
must have dug down nearly to grave depth, mindless of how he was scattering the
heady-scented plants and their roots around.
“Whatcha doing there?”
“There’s two more. They’re here somewhere.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
Dean didn’t respond except for a shrug.
Sam sighed and just watched. For what seemed like a long time. “Dean, there’s
nothing there.”
His brother was vindicated when he found the bones, all but rotten in the damp
mulch that they had been buried in for so long. Sam swore in consternation and
helped him to clear the earth away as best they could. There was definitely
more than one person’s remains there. It was lucky that Dean found them.
When they finally thought they had uncovered them all, he grabbed the salt
while Dean soaked them with gasoline. They both stepped back as he lit the
matches and dropped them in the hole.
As the flames flared, Sam started as he could finally see the released spirits:
a young couple in old-fashioned clothes, appearing right beside where his
brother stood. They had died young, very young. They only looked like
teenagers, holding hands in a first love that had obviously been ended by being
in the wrong place at very much the wrong time. Even as he realised that Dean
hadn’t been surprised at their sudden appearance at all, the young girl leant
up on her toes and kissed his brother gently on the cheek, then they were both
gone, finally escaping their long entrapment.
“I wonder who they were?”
“Jack and Molly Reeves. They’d just eloped, asked if they could stay the
night.”
Sam turned to him and raised his eyebrows.
“Their names were in the visitor book in the lobby.” Dean explained.
“Yes but….how do you know it’s them?”
But Dean was already packing up, catching up his spade, making sure he had left
nothing behind, having absolutely no need anymore for a flashlight in the
slowly decreasing darkness because of his exceptional, almost cat-like
eyesight.
“Ready to go?”
“Is that it?”
“That’s it.”
“How do you know?”
Sam sighed as Dean ignored him and began to head out. He followed with the
spade. It had been a long night. Now both of them just wanted to return to the
motel, shower and sleep, not necessarily going to happen in that order, and
discuss what to do about Bobby.
Which had led to their mistake of discussing him in the car on route. A mistake
they were both bitterly regretting now. He was incensed by being spoken about
as if he had done something wrong by staying to try and help, rather than
accepting his place in heaven. And he was letting his anger show.
“I don’t want to go to no damn motel! I want to go home! Well, okay, that was
burnt down. But let’s go to Rufus’s cabin. At least I can feel like I’m
somewhere I know and belong at. Cos you two are making me feel completely
unwelcome. I saved your life, Dean. I pushed that samurai sword within reach
and this is how you respond? I’m ashamed of you.”
“Bobby, that’s not fair.” Sam was twisting in his seat to try and defend his
brother “You’re a ghost. You know what happens to spirits when they don’t move
on. Especially when they’ve got unfinished business….”
His words faltered as he caught the quick glance Bobby gave him. There was the
slightest wink. Or had Sam just imagined that?
“I’m telling you boys, I want to go to the cabin! Grab your stuff from the
motel and let’s go.”
“Bobby, that’s a full day’s drive back to Montana. I need some rest!” Dean was
sounding exhausted.
But now Sam had realised what Bobby was doing. He would hug him as soon as
Dean’s back was turned….well, he would have to metaphorically hug him. Or just
say thanks. How do you hug a ghost? Was it at all possible? He shook himself
out of all these pointless thoughts. Bobby was keeping his promise and getting
Dean back to that cabin. He had to back him up now without raising Dean’s
suspicions.
“Rest when you’re dead! Like me!”
“That’s the point! You’re not resting!”
Sam interrupted. “There were a couple of useful books I left back at the cabin.
I could do with those. And if Bobby feels happier there it might keep him
calm….” He hoped he had said this with enough inference but not too much. He
was relieved when his brother seemed to pick up on it.
“Okay. Let me grab some sleep and we’ll head back. That okay, Bobby?”
“No! I want to go now!”
Even Sam started at the sudden temper. He almost believed that their surrogate
uncle was actually starting to lose control of his sanity, but again a quick
glance from Bobby reassured him that this was all just an act for Dean’s
benefit.
“Okay.” He tried to sound nervous and anxious . “We can take turns driving.
Just let us grab a shower each and we’ll….”
“Damned idgits.” Bobby grumped from the rear of the car. “I’m dead and they’re
worried about how they smell!”
Sam had to turn away to hide his smirk. Bobby was playing this perfectly. He
could almost physically feel Dean’s anxiety levels increasing exponentionally
beside him. If they could keep him tired as well then he would soon be running
on adrenalin only. Drink and temper would be a potent mix on top of that: it
would send his self-control out of the window leaving them to only have to deal
with the fall-out.
So he let Bobby bully and wind his brother up. They had returned to the motel
and packed their few belongings up quickly, had both managed to grab a shower
and changed into stuff passable for clean clothes, and piled back into whatever
the car was they were driving now. Dean headed it north and off they went.
They drove in silence for a long time. Sam dozed in the passenger seat: he
wasn’t even sure that Bobby was there in the car after a while, but Dean kept
driving. Until he had to stop for gas and to grab some supplies.
He took his share with him into the rear seat while Sam took over the driving,
desperate to get his head down for at least a couple of hours. He was trying to
get comfortable in the smaller car, (god, he missed his Baby so much!) when
Bobby reappeared and startled him so much he sat up again. And the older man
was apparently rested because he began to talk to him. And talk. And poke Dean
in the ribs when he tried to ignore him. And talk.
They talked about anything and everything. About old cars. About new cars.
About old cases. And old books. About the leviathans. About how Bobby was going
to let go and get on up to Heaven. About how he was a stupid frigging idgit who
didn’t appreciate anything. About why in hell they were driving all this
fucking way back to that fucking cabin. About how about minding your language,
boy, or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap. About how hungry and tired he was,
next stop he was going to find a burger. No, he damn well wasn’t going to stop
for a frigging burger, didn’t he remember what had happened last time he ate
one? No more burgers for him. Ever.
Sam decided to stop before Dean threw either himself or the ghost out of the
moving vehicle. It needed filling up again anyway and he needed a rest stop.
Bobby took a turn at him to keep it fair. “What do you need a rest for?” “Why
don’t you just go and have eternal rest?” “Why do I bother with you idgits?”
“Don’t start on me again, I didn’t say a thing this time!” “Look, what do you
want to eat?” “Well, it’s a fat lot of use asking me, isn’t it, you idgit?”
“Oh, for fucks sake, let’s grab something and get going!” “Next sink I catch
you standing by, boy, I’m washing your mouth out, I really am!”
This time Sam took the back seat to try and rest. He was grateful that Bobby
joined his brother in the front of the car, still complaining and grumping and
bitching. Even as he finally managed to fall asleep, he could see Dean becoming
more and more stressed.
“That’s it, Bobby,” was his last clear thought for a couple of hours. “”Keep
him fraught. Get him angry. He’ll blow up and speak without thinking then. God
bless you, old man.”
He woke up to find that the sun was going down again and Dean was still
driving. There was no sign of Bobby.
“Said he needed recharging.” His brother answered the unspoken question as he
noticed him stirring in the mirror. “Don’t know why he’s in such as hurry to
get back here. Not like it’s his house. We could have talked anywhere.”
“Perhaps it’s the last place he was happy.”
Sam struggled to climb over the top of the front seat to join Dean in the
front. God, how he missed the Impala. Eventually he managed to land in an
irritated and muddled tangle of long limbs in the passenger seat. Dean watched
him with amusement, but said nothing.
“How’re you doing? Do you want me to drive for a while?”
“He’s fine.”
They both started as Bobby suddenly reappeared somehow between them in the
front of the car, causing Dean to jerk at the wheel: the car doing a major
swerve and almost running off the road before he managed to correct it.
“Jesus, Bobby! Don’t do that!”
Sam tried to control his pounding heart and tried to speak through a suddenly
very dry mouth. “Remember, we want to get there alive, Bobby. No offence.”
“None taken, boy. Sorry. We’re getting nearly there now though. Only a few more
hours. How about turning the radio on. Or this old piece of crap will play your
tapes. I won’t call it music. One thing you and your daddy had in common: crap
taste in music. Not like good country. Just noise.”
Bobby glanced sideways at Sam, his countenance briefly showing his pride and
amusement at having found the next source of attack. Sam sighed to himself:
this was going to be a long night.
He was right, it was.
Dean and Bobby didn’t stop arguing until well into the early hours of the next
morning. About how country music was much better than that modern rubbish.
About how he didn’t know what he was talking about because these albums were
classics. Classics! And anyway, could he leave them alone as he was getting
ectoplasm crap all over them and the box. "Don’t you be shouting at me, boy."
"Well don’t touch my stuff, just leave the tapes alone." "Only rubbish anyway,
give me good old country any day." "Not this again." "You’re so ungrateful,
boy. I stayed to help you." "You shouldn’t have, whydid you?" "Well, if that’s
how you feel then I’ll go." "Good!" "No, cos I got a job to finish and you’ll
only mess it up, so you’ll just have to put up with it and me. Now put on
another tape and let’s hear how terrible this one is, why don’t you have
anything worth listening to, like country?"
Sam was already long asleep by this point, his head uncomfortably banging
against the passenger window, but the argument permeated his dreams to form a
weird ongoing nightmare. He felt he was driving down a long road that was
gradually transforming into the tape from a huge, huge cassette and he couldn’t
get off. He was destined to follow that tape until it eventually ran into the
spool of the cassette, and he knew without doubt or hope that he was going to
be unpleasantly squashed to death when it happened.
As the road tape finally ran out and the end seemed imminent, he awoke with a
sudden panic and a lot of blinking. He took a few deep breaths to get his heart
to stop beating so loudly and looked around in the approaching dawn, finally
recognising where they were on the road.
They were almost there.
Dean let the car trundle down the rutted lane that led to Rufus’s cabin with an
almost physical relief. He was so over-exhausted that he was struggling to see
straight and had been so for a few hours, although he had decided not to pass
that information on to his brother. What the hell was Bobby’s problem? It was
if he had determined to make him suffer for something, or was his sanity
already nearly gone? Whatever, Dean determined, as soon as they got in that
cabin, he was going to sleep and sleep and sleep, and there would be nothing
the ghost would be able to do to stop that.
He pulled the car up close to the door and got out with a stretch of his arms
and back while Sam went to open the door. It wasn’t ‘home’. Not like Bobby’s
house had been, but it was somewhere they had all got accustomed to.
Dean grabbed his bags out and headed inside. “I’ve got to crash.”
He headed to the small bedroom with the twin single beds that he and his
brother had been using when they were there.
“And in which bed this time? Do ya think I don’t know you two share?”
“Bobby?”
Dean turned and stared like a frightened rabbit caught in headlights. Even Sam
caught his breath, taken aback by the form of the older man’s next attack.
“You two. I may be a ghost but I’m not blind. What the hell do you think you’re
doing? It’s sick, that’s what it is.”
With a glance at Sam, Bobby was walking to the door that led to the basement
and passing straight through it.
“Bobby. I...”
Sam’s heart froze at Dean’s distraught expression, he could see all the shame
and fear bubbling up to the surface of his brother’s opinions of himself. 'For
god’s sake Bobby', he thought, 'please, you said you were angry at me, not at
him. Don’t do this to him'.
But he had no choice but to follow the play that the ghost had chosen. He could
only follow as Dean hurried to open the basement door and run down the steep
steps to try and catch up to Bobby, to try and explain what he knew he
couldn’t.
Sam felt even worse when he got to the bottom of the stairs and realised that
Bobby was on a roll, his brother trying desperately to get a word in, but
failing miserably.
“I never thought I’d see the day. Two brothers. Disgusting. I know you’ve both
been through some stuff, but is this your coping mechanism? Sick. You two
smooching. Wished I could’ve asked you to leave that damned flask somewhere
else some nights. In the car. Anywhere! Damn twisted. Bleack!” This was with a
definite facial expression. “Unforgivable...
How did it happen then, boy? You’re the eldest? How? And how long? All these
years. It better not have been under my roof...”
“Bobby. Bobby! Listen, please...” Dean was desperate.
Sam hated this. He hated Bobby at that moment. And himself. But Bobby was
signalling him to get some of the ropes from the shelf at the back of the large
underground room.
“I don’t want to listen how this abomination began. Actually, yes I do!” Bobby
pushed Dean suddenly and physically. Hard enough that Dean had to step back to
recover his balance and instead fell bodily into the hard chair behind him that
was permanently bolted securely to the concrete floor. “You just sit there! And
tell me what the hell you two were thinking!”
He was leaning forward now, leaning over Dean, summoning all of his energy as a
ghost to physically hold him down on the chair, his hands firm against his
chest. “You tell me boy! I want to know!”
Even as Sam wrapped the first heavy rope around his brother’s body to tie him
to the chair, he could feel how Dean’s heart was pounding erratically and
wildly in his chest. He was shocked, and prayed that they wouldn’t cause him to
have a heart attack rather than getting the answers they both desperately
wanted. It was time perhaps to try and calm him and this situation down.
But instead Dean’s heart rate went up as he suddenly realised what was
happening. He tried to get up from the chair but couldn’t as he was caught
tightly between the determination of the ghost holding him in place and the
tightening of the tethers around him.
“What the hell? What are you doing?”
Sam grabbed for his arms and forcibly bent them both around the back of the
uncomfortable seat to handcuff them together with not one but two sets of
manacles around his wrists.
“Sam? What’s going on? He sounded frantic now. “What the hell is this?”
Sam tied yet another length of rope around him and finally the other two felt
they could step back.
Bobby sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, boy. I didn’t mean any of that.”
“What? What the hell....” he was pulling at the restraints, already making his
wrists bleed from the metal containing them so harshly.
“Bobby knows about us because I told him, Dean.” His brother stopped from
struggling momentarily and stared wide-eyed at Sam. “I told him everything.
What I did. What Soulless me did. He’s disgusted at me. I deserve it. He’s not
angry at you. I’m so sorry you just had to take that, I wasn’t expecting that.
He’s angry at me, not at you. Never at you.”
“That’s true, boy.” Bobby agreed whole-heartedly. “I’ve got some issues with
Sam. A lot of issues with Sam. But not with you. Don’t you listen to a word of
what I said before. When Sam told me what he had done in both his forms....
Made me feel sick. I should have been there to help you against that soulless
bastard, he should never have touched you. You should have been able to come to
me. You should have been able to come to me before...”
“Before? What are you talking...? No, Sam. Tell me you didn’t. No.”
Sam really thought Dean was going to collapse, he was getting paler with every
breath, but at the same time more and more desperate not to be there. It was
somehow reminiscent of an animal finding itself caught in a trap and getting
ready to fight for its life with every last beat of its dying heart.
“I told him everything, Dean. About me raping you. About the other rape. About
your nightmare. I want to know. I need to know. That’s why we’re here. And
we’re not going anywhere until you tell me. Us. Please Dean, just tell me what
happened, I want to help.”
“It’s the past. Leave it in the past. Not your business.” Dean had his head
down, tugging frantically at the tight restraints around him. He wouldn’t look
up at them. They would probably wince at his expression of betrayal if either
of them could see it anyway.
“We just want to help, boy.”
He finally looked up, straight at Bobby. His eyes so dark, his body so tense,
so angry. “Go to Hell.”
They both winced at the tone of his voice.
“That’s what we guessed. Sam, go and get yourself something to eat and get more
rest if you need it. I’ll take first watch. I’m guessing it’s going to be a
long couple of days. But we will have the truth, Dean. Things like this
shouldn’t be a secret. Not between family, anyway. No such thing as secrets
between family.”
***** Miss Susie *****
Chapter Summary
     Didn't like the rape chapter? Don't read this.
It took Dean the best part of two days to finally break free of the two pairs
of handcuffs and numerous tight knots and escape from the basement as soon as
they had left him unguarded. Luckily his legs had been stiff from where they
had kept him tied up and he hadn’t been able to run as easily or as fast as he
normally could.
And Sam’s anxiety about him had given him enough adrenalin to run faster than
he had ever done before once he had realised he was gone, and his knowledge of
his brother had been a godsend. He knew which way he would run and had reacted
immediately, determined to head him off before Dean could reach the end of the
small sparsely vegetated track that led down to their temporary home and
disappear into the much thicker woods beyond. Sam knew from experience that
Dean could and would be able to survive years in a forest without being found
if he didn’t want to be.
Bobby had summoned all of his ability to grab up the handcuffs and rope and
follow, materialising just in time to hear Dean’s shout as he went down
physically beneath his brother’s full-on body tackle. Sam didn’t give him the
chance to get up: he used his own body weight as a weapon and pinned Dean’s
chest and legs down beneath his own sharp knees and strong hands, careful not
to let his head get within range of his angry brother’s.
“Calm down.”
He winced at the obscenities that poured from Dean’s mouth. Bobby immediately
handed him the items he had brought as he knelt on Dean’s prone body and
between them they tied him up in the rope and handcuffs so that a mouse
couldn’t have escaped the tight bonds. Then they were left with the problem of
returning him to the cabin: it wouldn’t be easy for Sam to try to carry a live,
resisting, foul-mouthed dead weight that distance on his own.
The problem was solved for them, and another one immediately created, by a car
trundling along the rough track towards them.
“Balls!” Bobby immediately vanished.
Sam threw his brother physically off the trail and went to greet the driver and
hopefully turn whoever it was around.
“You boys okay?” Both Winchester’s tensed at the loud, hearty voice of Jodie
Mills. Sheriff Jodie Mills.
“Hey Jodie! What brings you up here?” Sam knew his voice was louder than usual.
“Aw, I just wondered how you were doing. You know, with the house burning down
and then Bobby.... You boys eating properly, Sam?”
“We’re good. I was just out for a walk. Then I was going to go to the store. So
don’t you worry about us.”
“Aw, that’s good to hear, Sam, that’s good... Sam, may I ask you a question?”
“Sure thing, Jodie.”
“Why were you tying Dean tighter than a trussed-up turkey? Is he possessed or
something?”
Dean could hear Sam’s sigh from where he was hidden, it was so loud. “Not
exactly, Jodie. It’s. It’s a long story. But. If you could help me get him back
inside, that would really be appreciated."
She didn’t hesitate. “Sure thing.”
She had been around the boys enough not to turn a hair as Sam crammed Dean into
the rear-seat of her car and all but sat on him to hold him down inside it.
Neither did she listen to his entreaties for her to do her fucking duty and
arrest Sam for assault and grievous bodily harm and false imprisonment against
him, but instead just got calmly into the driver’s seat and drove them both
back up to the cabin.
Although she did whisper loudly to Sam as he manhandled Dean out of the car
again: “If he’s not possessed, then is it a spell? Or is he drugged by
something?”
“Neither.” Sam had answered as he had held Dean down as she helped him to
adjust the handcuffs one at a time to attach Dean’s wrists to each front leg of
the heavy two seat sofa, leaving him forced into a sitting crucifix position on
the floor with his arms stretched apart behind him. No way was he getting his
hands together to loosen the restraints this time. “He’s just really pissed at
me, that’s all.”
Jodie’s eyebrows rose but she remained silent as Sam tried to loosen some of
the tighter restraints that were surely cutting off Dean’s circulation by now.
“Just stay still and I’ll at least let you move your legs.”
But he forgot Dean’s rage as he fumbled with a tight knot and moved his head
too close to his furious brother. There was a loud crack as Dean’s head jerked
forward and intentionally connected with Sam’s forehead just below his
hairline. Sam went down physically with the blow.
Jodie cried out and leapt forward to pull his body out of the way even as Dean
kicked out at him with his boots. Then she cried out in surprise as Bobby
quickly materialised and helped her. He had never seen Dean so angry. It would
have taken his breath away if he had had any.
As Jodie helped him sit a groggy Sam on the floor in the small kitchen area and
put a cool flannel on the immediate and growing bump on his head, she
whispered: “Bobby? How did you…? But you’re….? And what the hell is going on,
Bobby?”
“Damned if I know, Jodie. There’s something in his past he really don’t want us
to know about. I’ve never seen him like this.”
Sam tried to shake off the worst of the pain and put his hand up to his head.
Jodie tried to stop him as he carefully got to his feet, still holding the cold
cloth to his head. He seemed as shaken by Dean’s anger as they both were.
“We’ve got to find out, Bobby. This has got to end.”
Bobby nodded. There was no going back: tempers had frayed too much now, this
would either be the end of the brother’s relationship or a new beginning. Sam
took a deep breath and started towards where Dean was tied up on the floor.
Jodie caught at his arm. “Why not let him calm down a bit first?”
Her hand was shrugged off.
“I’ll fucking get him calm.”
Bobby winced at the tone of his voice and looked helplessly at Jodie: Sam was
just as stubborn as his brother and just as angry.
Sam strode over to Dean and looked down at him for a moment. Dean didn’t turn
his face up to return the stare, but Jodie and Bobby could tell by the stiff
stance he was sitting in that he was still as enraged as he had been if not
more so. They could also see blood starting to trickle down his wrists yet
again where he had taken the moment’s inattention on him to try and get the
handcuffs loose.
“You going to calm down and talk to us?”
“Fuck you.”
Sam glanced back over to the small area where Bobby and Jodie were anxiously
watching. His expression turned darker than they had ever seen it before as he
debated with himself his next move.
Then: “Screw it!”
He had made up his mind. With a sudden movement of his long legs he was on the
sofa behind where his brother had been forced to sit, then just as quickly he
was down on top of him with his full weight before Dean had even had time to
turn his head up to try and work out what he was doing. Sam literally stood
down on the tops of his thighs, quickly descending to a (less painful for Dean)
kneeling position, pinning his brother’s legs with his own and his not
inconsiderable weight. At the same time he had grabbed Dean’s head as he
descended in a firm grip that caused a grunt of pain from his brother as it was
pulled back roughly against the sofa behind.
Then, to Bobby’s discomfort and Jodie’s exclamation, Sam plunged his tongue
into Dean’s mouth.
The two onlookers could make out his breathy words even as Dean tried to twist
away. “Oh, go on then. You bite it, you bastard! Take my tongue off. Go on
then. You’d be more upset about it than I would! So either do it or calm down.
I mean it, calm down.”
Dean desperately tried to get loose from his firm grip and the mouth all but
inside his own. Sam just held him firmly, placing his other hand gently against
his brother’s chest and beginning to rub in a soothing movement. Gradually the
kiss turned more tender. Bobby and Jodie watched in astonishment as Dean
visibly calmed, responding to Sam’s mouth and touch.
Eventually Sam broke the kiss. He didn’t look around at the other two: he just
leant close to Dean so his mouth met his ear and whispered gently into it for a
few minutes. Bobby couldn’t hear: on reflection he thought he probably didn’t
want to. But he could see the effect. Dean’s eyes closed and he was quite still
and quiet when Sam leant back.
“You going to behave now?”
Dean studied him, but didn’t shout or swear. His voice when he spoke was quiet
but it had a strange desperation in it. “Please Sammy. Let this go.”
“I can’t.” Sam carefully rested his forehead against his brother's and
whispered back. “I need to know. I need you to trust me enough to tell me.”
“I do trust you, Sam.” Was it Bobby’s imagination or was Dean close to tears?
“But please. Let this go. Let the past stay past.”
“I can’t.” This time Sam did look around at Bobby and the older man felt
himself nod. “Neither can Bobby. Just tell us. Whatever it is. Don’t keep it
all inside yourself.”
“Sam.” Dean’s voice was a low rumble but not threatening. Just a last plea.
Sam sighed and pulled away from him, getting up and crossing back to where the
others stood.
“Look. We’ll get you something to eat. We haven’t let you eat for the last two
days, you must be hungry.”
“I’m fine.” Dean turned his head away.
Sam and Bobby exchanged worried glances. Jodie understood and joined Sam as he
began to look through the cupboards and fridge for something that they could
get Dean to eat without having to loosen his restraints. He might be calmer but
even Jodie had realised not to trust him: they weren’t complete idiots.
“How’s your head?” the older man floated behind Sam and asked quietly. “That
was a real crack he gave you.”
“Sore. Probably so is his. I’m worried, Bobby.”
“So am I son, so am I”
“Do either of you want to tell me what this is about?” Jodie began.
They all paused as all the electrical items went momentarily crazy; the fridge
open and shut on its own, the small microwave turned itself on, the kettle
jerked itself to the edge of its lead. Sam immediately grabbed for Bobby’s
always ready shotgun and as one, the three of them turned to face whatever was
causing it.
There was nothing amiss in the room. Nothing unusual to be seen. Unless they
counted Dean, sitting in his restrained position on the floor, his arms
outspread behind him handcuffed to the legs of the sofa, sitting straight,
staring at the wall, staring at something none of them could see.
Sam stepped forward raising the gun, ready to fire at whatever was there.
“Sam!” Dean’s voice was an order. “No.”
His brother lowered the gun. “What is it?”
“Not what.” Dean replied. “Who.”
And as if he had given permission, the ghost materialised.
The three onlookers all winced. She had obviously been very beautiful in life,
more than beautiful. A young girl, just on the threshold of womanhood. Dark
Latino looks: almost black hair, the deepest brown eyes, long thin nose, tall
slim features. But all this had been marred by her death. And it had obviously
been a horrifically violent, unnatural one.
Through her tattered and ragged short dress they could see sections of gore
where her skin had been flayed away. Marks over her face and legs showed burns
from pokers or cattle brands. Her left arm was unnaturally bent and twisted
almost completely around as if the shoulder had been dislocated and then pulled
about physically. She had several fingers missing, only the stumps remaining.
And everywhere were the marks of bruises upon bruises: fist-sized, boot sized.
But the worst was her neck. There were many deep cuts there: some short, others
where something had been slashed at her, but all eclipsed by the one that had
finally claimed her short life, the one that ran literally from ear to ear and
still shone with blackish blood.
“Oh my God.” Jodie whispered for them all.
“Sam!” Bobby was urgent. “This isn’t just a ghost! I can feel pure power
rolling off this thing! It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before! We’ve got to
get Dean away from it!”
But so intense was the ghost’s gaze on Dean, and so intense was the one he was
returning to her that the other three all knew that this was someone, something
he had met before. Sam and Bobby both instinctively tensed and readied
themselves in case.
Then Dean suddenly smiled: a genuine open smile that the other two men in the
room had all but forgotten had existed in the last few years. “Hey Miss Susie.”
“Hey, Dean-boy.”
The voice was unreal. The figure was young but this voice was old, almost
ancient. And in an accent of the deepest Southern drawl that dripped syrup and
molasses over every word. Sam and Jodie could feel the force behind the voice
that Bobby had immediately instinctively felt. With the first few words, they
could feel themselves being lulled into silence, they were only here to watch
not participate. What was this thing?
Even as Sam felt his brain being closed down by the settling in the room of
calm unhurried, unworried power he remembered the article – daughter of the
infamous witch. This was a witch. The ghost of a witch. They were in the
presence of something beyond otherworldly and completely unknown, well to him,
Bobby and Jodie anyway. Dean was on first name terms with her.
She flickered, vanished and immediately re-materialised right beside his
brother, kneeling down and reaching for his face with what was left of her
hands. He didn’t even flinch, he just smiled and accepted her touch.
“Look at you, boy. You’ve gotten so fine. So fine, boy.”
Even as she turned his head gently in her hands to examine him, the others
could see flickers and flashes of white, pale greeny-blue light flicking from
her broken fingers, settling around herself and Dean like little sparks of
energy. They landed on Dean’s legs and chest and dissipated as if never having
been there.
“All grown up. Not the boy I knew anymore. But still mine. Always will be mine.
Mmm, so fine indeed.” She smiled at him: a genuine, long, lazy smile somehow
unmarred by the deep bruises on what had been her face and the missing teeth.
“But it’s time to let the secrets go now, my Dean-boy. They’re tearing you
apart. Tearing your little family apart. Time to let go of all of them.”
“No, Miss Susie. Some don’t ever need to be told.” He was stern with her
despite the deep, soothing, comfortable containment that was overcoming the
other humans in the room.
“Yes boy. Time you should.”
“I said no, Miss Susie.”
The sudden understated command in his voice momentarily brought all the three
others to their senses: Dean was not only not afraid of this powerful being, he
expected her to listen to his words and obey them.
And she did.
“Okay, my Dean-boy, okay.” The unhurried, unflustered drawl took everyone in
the room back into their pleasant, syrupy trances. “If that’s what you want.
They’re not my secrets to tell. But.” She leant forward, right into his face.
The whisper was clear and loud enough to be heard by them all. “But I can tell
them what are mine, boy.”
She laughed as he frowned at her, a genuine tinkling laugh. The sparks of light
from her fingers grew more intense, falling onto him like a slight sprinkling
of glowing and glinting snow and disappearing just as quickly as if they were
landing on a hot sidewalk. “Time to let them all go, Dean.”
The three watchers almost expected her to kiss him, she had got that close, but
instead she sat back slightly on her twisted heels, still holding his face in
her palms and began to talk. The ancient voice spoken in its unhurried deep
drawl seemed to become a physical thing that ebbed and flowed around the room,
washing any desire to move away from the scene completely away. Sam, Bobby and
Jodie could only watch and listen now. And they all did so intently.
“You tell them, boy. You tell them how your daddy left you for a weekend and
still wasn’t back nine days later. You tell them how desperate you were because
the motel owner kept asking you for money and was threatening to call the
police in for abandonment. You tell them about how you hadn’t eaten for two
days because you’d kept the last for your brother. And you daren’t go back in
the store because the owner had nearly caught you stealing the last time and
you knew he’d be watching you so close. You tell them how you were so desperate
you didn’t know what to do. How your tenth birthday came and went that week and
you were still so hungry and your brother was angry at you for not getting a
cake.”
Sam could feel a tear trickle down his face at the memory, but he couldn’t
speak or even put his hand up to stop it.
“Oh my Dean.” She sighed, a genuinely sad sigh. “You were cold and hungry and
desperate, and beautiful even then. And that man came up to you and offered you
money. Just for giving what was already being taken from you.” Although Dean
had appeared to have also been going into a trance, he stirred himself enough
to frown at her. “It made sense, didn’t it boy? And that money was vital,
wasn’t it? Bought you food, paid for your beds. Kept you and your brother
alive. It seemed a good way out, something to bear in mind.”
“Wait.” He was trying to shake off the effect of her voice, trying to sit up
straight again and think. “How do you know this, Miss Susie?”
Again there was that genuine, loving, womanly laugh. It sounded so incongruous
from the figure of the young girl beside him. “I’ll tell you, boy. But not yet.
There’s a right way to tell a story, it needs to be done properly.”
“Forget that. How do you know this?” Again the authority in his voice brought
the others briefly to their senses. Again they were surprised by it.
Miss Susie leant forward. Sam knew he should feel concerned as he watched the
amount of sparks and flashes from her fingers increase. Now they falling on his
brother and starting to settle like a slight dusting of sparkling, glowing
snowflakes, sprinkling his legs and torso. He looked like he was being covered
in glitter, but glitter that somehow had a life and power of its own. Then, as
the soft, soothing voice began again Sam returned to his trance.
“I know all your life, my Dean. I’ve watched it all the way forward. And I’ve
watched it all the way back. Now hush,” she tapped his nose with one of her
good fingers, releasing a small flurry of sparks over his eyes and forehead,
and knelt back. “Hush your tongue while I tell my story.
That became your life, didn’t it, boy? That and stealing. Anything to keep your
brother fed. Had to do it: two growing boys couldn’t exist on what your daddy
left you. And he knew it. Only got cross when you got caught stealing, didn’t
he? ‘Letting him down.’ But it didn’t pay as well, did it boy? Mmm, you kept
out of your backyard as it were. Went to neighbouring towns. Walked if you had
to. Or got lifts. Put Sammy to bed and lock him in safe and out you’d go.
Dangerous thing to do, Dean-boy.
Oh, now don’t you be cussing at me, boy!” She caught his look at her and shook
her head at him: it wobbled slightly on her shoulders as she did. Then she
sighed. “You tell them what you did to keep you two boys alive. Tell them how
one man drove off in his car and just threw you out of it when he’d finished.
And you’d walked back through the night, your leg all torn and bleeding. You
still had that scar ‘til the day you died, didn’t you? Little brother never
knew: you were in time to make him breakfast and see him to school and you went
back and slept like the dead all day. Well, until your daddy came back. Caught
you there. Called you out for being a lazy good-for-nothing waste of time. The
beating he gave you that day, boy.” She shook her head again sadly. “It wasn’t
right. Wasn’t right.”
“Enough now.” But Dean’s voice was sounded slightly slurred.
The onlookers tried to rouse themselves enough to look properly at him and
realised that the glittering sparks were settling far more than before. They
appeared to be absorbing into Dean’s skin through his clothes. And he was
getting heavy-eyed. Sam wanted to make himself grab the shotgun and shoot the
salt in it right through her, but he couldn’t make any of his limbs obey him.
He could only listen to that voice as she continued.
“But what my brothers did to you. Oh, my beautiful Dean. That wasn’t right
either! They should never have touched you, but I’m so glad they did because
they brought you to me. I’m ashamed for thinking that but it’s the truth. They
brought you to me.
It must have been so frightening, realising there were three grown men in that
truck, not just one. And they’d hurt you before they got home, hadn’t they? Got
you between them. They couldn’t ever wait. They were such pigs. Always had
been.
I’d been dead for nearly forty years by then. Still trapped. Still so afraid of
them. My momma used to tell me to wait, to shut up and put up ‘cos they’d be
afraid of me once she’d taught me. Every female in our family. All down the
line, all gaining and gathering the powers as they seeped down from grandmother
to aunt to cousin to niece to mother to daughter, all gathering in the last of
the Duvrais line as the others passed on. I was the last, did’cha ever know
that? Turned out the line ended with me. Momma wasn’t bothered about how my
brothers treated me ‘cos I could get ‘em once I’d been taught.”
Her tone turned sarcastic, her battered face angry. “But she never had time.
Always sorting out others first who could pay for her abilities. With me it was
always ‘ask me another day Chile’. And then I found her with her throat slit.
Never knew which of those pigs had done it. Sliced her open from behind. My
daddy was long gone, who wants to live with a witch? And me dead barely four
months later and buried beneath the chicken coop.”
She stopped talking abruptly. Smiled and moved closer to Dean, her hands
finally moving from his face to either side of his neck. He didn’t seem to be
fully awake somehow although his eyes were open and watching her. Sam and Bobby
found themselves getting alarmed, but could do nothing but listen to the story
being told.
“They’d got the taste for torture and killing from what they did to me though.
All those boys, all those poor boys. And some girls, but they preferred boys. I
afeared them even in death. I used to cry when they bought another home. I knew
what was coming, knew I’d hear their screams, hear them gurgle and drown in
their own blood. Or worse. Tormented all you children by calling them by my
name. You were all ‘little Miss Susie’ as they raped you. Boys and girls. All
given my accursed name. Mmm, my brothers would have terrified the Devil
himself. They really would have.
And then they got you.”
The others saw Dean’s eyes glint towards her but through very heavy lids. Sam
thought that he could see his brother’s body beginning to glow as he absorbed
more and more of the glittery sparks that were still flying from her fingers.
Then he was listening again as the story that he had been so desperate to know
was finally told.
“Oh, my Dean, you were pretty banged up when they got you back to the house,
weren’t you? They’d been going at you in the pick-up, hadn’t they? Already a
good tally.” She indicated with her hand to Dean’s left side.
Sam felt a memory stir inside him, of scars that Dean used to have there. A
series of cuts in groups of fives: scars that his brother used to dismiss as
being ‘made by some animal or something, he couldn’t remember’. A series of
tally scores, carved into his skin. Had it been two or three groups?
“They dragged you out of the truck. Threw you down into the cellar. That was
when it usually all ended. All those poor children.” The despair in that
extraordinary old powerful voice was overwhelming. “Got you up on the bench.
Began heating up their toys in the fires. And went for you again.” She made
sure Dean was directly looking at her. “I was there, boy. I was always there. I
couldn’t do anything. I was too scared of them to do anything. But the moment I
could pull your soul out and help you away from the pain. I would have been
there.” He smiled at her, his open genuine smile again. Bobby wondered when he
had last seen it before that day.
“But there was something different about you, my Dean-o. Something I could feel
even then. Despite it all, everything they were doing to you, you were looking
for a chance to escape. Waiting for that chance. I could see it in you. Feel
that you were yielding your body deliberately to keep your mind clear enough
for the chance.
And it came, didn’t it, boy? My little brother Clayton wanted the cattle brand.
Bull, a stupid name for a stupid ignorant man, didn’t want to give it up. They
left the knife unattended. Do you remember?“
She sat back a little, held up her hand and a knife materialised in it. A foot
long, vicious, serrated down one edge, hunting knife. Even through the spell
being cast, all the three onlookers winced as they saw it.
“Do you remember, my Dean-boy?”
He barely glanced at it. “I remember. Got well acquainted with it. I have the
scars to prove it. Well,” he added, “I had.”
“That’s right!” Susie looked at him. “That’s right. That little Angel of yours
wiped you all clean when he staked his claim, didn’t he? Only mark he left on
you was his own.” She hmphed, pursed her lips in obvious irritation. Gently she
reached out and touched Dean on his chest just below his left collar bone.
“Your brother still looks for that one, did he ever tell you? He misses it. The
first time, besides your heart attack, that he really realised that he might
have lost you.”
“How did she know that?” Sam thought. But she was right.
Jodie also came awake a little, “What was there?”
“A burn.” He felt like he was speaking underwater. “Deliberately from a poker.
They were torturing him for fun when I got there.”
“Boy?”
They returned to their trance, just watching the scene in front of them. “Would
you like me to put them back? As you should be, before your Angel came along?”
Bobby was wondering if Dean had fallen asleep, his eyelids were looking so
heavy, but he answered the ghost witch immediately without having to consider.
“Yeah. Don’t feel right without them, never has. But make sure all the new ones
stay as well.” His voice had gone so low it was just a deep rumble but still
his words were clear. But now all three of the watchers could see that his body
was definitely starting to glow: it hadn’t just been Sam’s imagination. They
were all getting worried about him but none of them could break the spell to
stop whatever was happening.
She smiled at him. “Including your Angel’s?”
“Especially his.”
Even as he said the words, the erratic spray of sparks turned into a flow from
her fingers, appearing more like rays of solid light of the palest, almost
white, greeny-blue colour that touched all over Dean’s body and seemingly
absorbed straight through his clothes and into his skin. There was a pause, the
weight of the witch’s words seemingly lifting from the room a little as now all
her attention was focused on Dean. Whatever she was doing to him, whatever she
had come to the cabin to do, she was now doing it. For good or bad, she was
doing it.
Nothing struck the watchers as being innocuous at first. Then there were
suddenly flashes of brightness beneath Dean’s clothes that were so intense they
were still dazzling even through the coverings. Some gave the impression of
being long like lightning strikes, other smaller, just sudden abrupt flares
that subsided as soon as they had appeared. One intense long lasting break out
of light corresponded exactly where Sam remembered that terrible poker burn.
Susie held that vicious knife up a little and tilted it in her hand. Suddenly
the sparks and flashes were pouring out from the end of it and straight onto
Dean. The other three didn’t have to ask where he had been cut or how badly as
they only had to follow the bright streams of the witch’s energy as she
recreated all the scars that had told Dean’s life story on his body before
Castiel had wiped them all away.
There were the tally scores: each of the three watchers found themselves
quickly counting before the sudden bright streaks faded. “Thirteen.” Jodie wept
a little. There were vicious wounds across his chest and stomach, and one
really long wound that ran from his right shoulder right across his chest to
the left side of his torso where he had obviously been slashed with the blade.
A fifteen year old boy against three fully grown evil-minded men.
The magic poured off the witch and into Dean. He seemed to be growing aware of
it: he was trying to shake his head, trying to wake himself up.
“What’cha doing to me, Miss Susie?”
“It’s alright, boy. You know I’d never hurt you, don’t you? You’re mine. All
mine. Don’t you be afraid of me now boy. Not ever.”
He subsided slightly, lapsed back into himself. She stroked his face, smiled at
him with love, smiled even more when he responded with a smile of his own.
“But I’ve got distracted from the story. That won’t do. Anyways they, my
brothers, got into a fight over the brand iron. They’d have gone for your face
with that, Dean-boy. Marked it bad. Taken your eyes. I’m glad they never got
the chance.
You were looking at the knife. I could see you looking at the knife. I could
see you thinking that if you could only get hold of it, you’d take your chance.
And from somewhere I knew I had to get it to you. Oh, I was still such a little
girl back then, been dead for forty years but still so afraid of them. But I
was so determined to get you the knife.”
“You moved it straight to my hand.” His deep voice suddenly agreeing with her
made the others start a little. They were all getting hypnotised by the witch’s
voice again. “I knew I wasn’t alone there then. Gave me courage.”
“I got it to you, my Dean-o. I did it. And you nearly took your own finger off,
you sliced at that rope so fast. You didn’t care though. You had your chance
and you took it! You put that knife through Bull’s spine before he could turn.
And Clayton sprayed you with his blood as you slit his throat in just one go.
And the eldest, my eldest brother, Clem.” Her face showed her disgust as she
thought of him. ”He squealed like a pig, didn’t he? Fell right over the old
mangle and you were on him! He never got to put your hands through that mangle,
did he Dean? Not that time. Not to my boy! Just put a blade in your hands and
watch you go, my Dean-boy. Nothing could stop you.”
Her face was full of pride as she watched him. Dean looked back at her. His
body was still glowing, but Bobby frowned as he wondered if the magic was
gradually seeping through Dean’s body to concentrate in a mass somewhere. His
feet and legs seemed less bright, but his upper chest and especially his head
were definitely getting brighter as if all the power was focusing on one
specific spot. Then the next words were catching his attention again and he
listened carefully.
“Do you remember what happened next?”
Dean nodded. “Still most nights in my dreams. Hell itself opened. And….they ran
out. A whole pack of them. First time I’d ever seen Hellhounds. Not until I
went to Hell myself. Got to know a lot about them there. Gutted a few of the
bastards too. But there they were, a whole lot of goddamn frightening things.
Your brother’s souls appeared, but black. Like they were already halfway to
being demons. They screamed like banshees as those things tore them to pieces
and dragged them down in the huge hole that had just …opened up! First time I
ever smelt Hell as well. And heard the screams echoing up. In a strange way, I
felt connected to it. Knew I’d be going there someday.” His face turned rueful.
There were too many memories being brought up for him now.
Jodie whispered to Bobby. “Is he serious? About Hell?”
He sighed. “Dean sold his soul to save Sam a few years ago. He went to Hell.
For forty or so years, it turned out because time runs different there. He’s
actually older than I am. Was. An Angel called Castiel physically pulled him
out and returned him to us.”
“This Angel they’ve been talking about?”
“Yep.”
“A real Angel?”
“Yep.”
She stared at him, her mouth open. But Miss Susie was speaking to Dean again,
agreeing with him as they both remembered that day.
“Mmm, they sure were frightening things, those Hellhounds. Terrified me. Even
though I hated my brothers and they deserved what they got, I was terrified of
those monstrous things. I was sure they’d come for me next. Never crossed my
mind then that they’d ever come for you! Not my Dean. And you knew what would
be coming. Did you ever tell your brother that? That you knew exactly what
would be coming for you?”
Dean shook his head but didn’t respond. The ghost witch leant forward
confidentially. “Did you realise Alistair brought the three of them to your
rack in Hell, boy? Did you recognise them?” Dean looked up fully and stared at
her, his eyes wide.
Now Sam also started as he could see what Bobby had noticed, that Dean’s eyes
were starting to glow as if all the power that Miss Susie was feeding into his
body was congregating in his head. The normally vivid natural green of Dean’s
eyes were being over-ruled and replaced by the pale but bright colour of the
spirit. And still the witch was pumping her sparks of whatever into him, her
fingers were still flashing and spitting flakes of magical energy at his body,
hundreds more, thousands more, every moment she was there. Sam knew he had to
stop this, but couldn’t move.
“My, yes.” The ghost was nodding at his brother. “Alistair made sure to bring
them to you. Never let them turn, wanted to keep them for you. Wanted to turn
you. That’s why you never got any peace. Even less than all the others down
there. It was vital to them that you be broken. Even the Angels wanted that,
boy. You didn’t stand a chance once they got you down there. Nothing to feel
guilty about. But that Alistair: he got you so close, didn’t he? Just a few
more years...
Angel or Demon: you’d make a damn fine one of either. And they know it. They’ll
try again, boy. They surely will. So don’t you let ’em.
Anyways,” as she returned to her story. “There we were, weren’t we, Dean-boy?
You were left in that cellar. You bleeding everywhere, you could hardly stand.
And I. I finally got the courage to show myself. I finally could let someone
see me. Do you remember what you said to me? Do you boy?”
He looked embarrassed and put his head down, not meeting her eyes. She smiled
and reached to take his face in her hands again.
“I remember, my Dean. You looked at me, there was blood dripping from the
bottom of your jeans. You’d grabbed for them fast enough, even though they were
ripped to hell but you had nuttin to be embarrassed about! Not to me. But you
were bleeding still so badly. And you looked at me and you looked so sad and
you said .....”
“Whatever did they do to you, Miss Susie?” He finished her sentence for her. “I
knew who you were the instant you appeared.”
“You did, you did, boy.” She was delighted at him. “The sweetest, kindest words
I ever had spoken to me my whole life. My kind, caring Dean. You were worried
about me! Thought of me! Sweetest words of my whole life. From a dying boy.”
“I didn’t die, Miss Susie.” His eyes were definitely glowing now. He wasn’t
looking human anymore. The unease in Sam and Jodie’s stomachs was growing as it
seemed to all of them that he was somehow being forced to absorb the witch’s
power and he wasn’t even aware of it. And such was the strength of the magic in
that cabin, they were helpless to stop it.
“No you didn’t. You were strong. You weren’t going to give them the
satisfaction of being another victim. Not that day. Not there. You went
rummaging around and you found enough stuff to patch yourself up. Put a few
stitches in your chest, I remember. And then you set to, didn’t you, Dean-o.
You dragged those bodies outside, all three of them. Burnt them. Said they’d
never be able to come back. Not ever. I remember watching your face by the
flames. I was so proud of you, my Dean.
And then you looked around. They were all coming weren’t they, boy? All the
children were coming. To watch their murderers burn. Do you remember, Dean-
boy?”
“Yes ma’am. Course I do.” His voice was now low. Sam knew that he was seeing
this in his head as he spoke. “All those kids. Frightened little kids who
hadn’t been able to pass over.”
“Some were older than you.” She smiled at him.
His eyes were now glowing so brightly that they were hurting the others when
they tried to look at them. “You were just a kid. And although I’d watched my
brothers and their evil ways over the years, I’d never realised how many they’d
killed. So many children. I couldn’t count them all. Could you, my Dean?”
He nodded. “Thirty-seven.”
She sighed. “Thirty-seven. I never knew....”
“But.” Sam and Bobby managed to find their voices at the same time. “The
article said.....”
“Four decades of them torturing and killing. That was all they found remains
of. All that they could prove.”
This was the first time that Miss Susie had addressed any words to anyone in
the room besides Dean, but she didn’t turn her head. She never once took her
eyes of him. His eyes were now as bright as two tiny white suns although he
didn’t seem aware of it. The rest of his body had ceased glowing now. She had
ceased sending sparks from her fingers any more. Whatever she had done, it was
nearly complete.
Sam stumbled to ask while he could speak, afraid that the witch would stop him
again. “What are you doing to him?” He was still too much under her spell to
even sound as angry as he was feeling.
“Nothing for you to worry about, Sam Winchester. Although if you ever hold him
down in his bed against his will again, then you and I are going to have words
that you will not like, do I make myself clear?”
Sam winced, looked worriedly at Bobby and Jodie who stared at him without very
pleasant expressions. “I....”
His stomach turned at her next words addressed to him. “He was mine before you
ever even thought of him as yours. And he will be mine long after. Never forget
that. Boy.” The sudden malice in the ancient voice caused them all to shiver.
Then the witch ghost was leaning forward, her lips coming close to Dean’s face.
Her fingers snapped and the glow in his eyes began to fade at the signal. He
seemed to come to, as if he had momentarily not been in his own head. He most
certainly wouldn’t have heard her words to Sam. Miss Susie held his head tight
as he tried to blink it away.
“Dean? Tell them about the children. Where they all came from.” Her voice was
like the sweetest molasses again.
He stared blankly at her for a moment. Then his thoughts shifted to that day
and he began to tell them in a matter-of fact tone that was more horrifying
than anything else could have been.
“Where didn’t they come from? Some rose from where they’d been buried, all
ripped and mutilated and burnt. One little girl climbed up from down the well.
Those monsters didn’t drink that water, did they Miss Susie?”
“My brothers did indeed, Dean-boy. They say it tasted the same as what they’d
roasted.”
He flinched but carried on describing the poor lost, murdered spirits that he
had seen that day. Describing them in such a way that it was obvious to his
brother, uncle and friend that he was still seeing them clearly in his head
even some twenty years later.
“A few struggled out of the cellar. Now you’ve explained the missing parts.
Others from down the trail to the house, gathering all their pieces up from
where they’d been dragged apart behind the truck. That one...” He stopped
speaking suddenly as he relived something terrible in his mind.
“I know, my poor Dean. I know. I cry for him as well. But you tell them. Make
them understand.”
Dean sighed. He didn’t seem to be looking at even the ghost now. All his
thoughts were focused internally, back to the truly horrendous events that he
had witnessed and kept hidden for so long. But she had given him an order, so
he answered mechanically.
“They’d put him through the wood chipper.”
Jodie felt as if she was going to be sick. The faces on the two men beside her
didn’t look any better.
“He was alive when they did. I still have nightmares, I hear his screams above
all the others.” Miss Susie was also upset about it.
“It was just pieces....mulch.” Dean’s eyes, now fully returned to normal, were
filling with tears. “And it all came together. Built itself back up into a
shape. Couldn’t work out what it was at first. Then.” He stopped, tried to pull
his head out of Susie’s hands but she held firm. Eventually he just whispered
to her: “He couldn’t have been more than twelve years old.”
“I know boy, I know.”
There was a pause while Dean struggled with his memories. “We had to wait for
some. They had to find their way back from the swamps. Waited a long time but
they came.”
“But.” Jodie struggled to make her voice strong enough to be heard, but she
wanted to know. “How did you know when they were all there?"
“The others told me. Told me we had to wait.”
“They spoke to you?”
He shrugged. “The trapped always do. Ever since then.”
“The trapped?”
Miss Susie finally turned her head in acknowledgement of somebody else being in
the room. The two females in the room stared straight at each other.
“It’s impo’tant for those of us that were trapped by a bad death. Not all turn
mad. Some just get forgotten. It’s impo’tant that somebody knows we existed,
that we once had names, weren’t just some....nothings. Our remains to be put to
rest if possible. That’s all most want. Just to move on. My Dean,” she added
proudly. “He’ll help. If he can. He’s my boy!”
“Then why the hell couldn’t you hear me, son?” Bobby was grumbling at Dean
despite his worry over what was happening in that cabin. “Could have saved me a
lot of time.”
“It’s only the forgotten need to ask for help, Bobby. And you’ll never be
forgotten.” Bobby surprised them all by snuffling noisily at Dean’s response.
“Often just someone knowing their name gives the release they need. Only needs
to be whispered. Only right to hear it.”
“Why were they at the swamp?” Jodie had many more questions. They were all
beginning to escape the effects of the spell. All except Dean.
“Gator bait.” He said it like he could have been ordering a cup of coffee in a
diner. “Staked down alive to be torn to pieces. They struggled back with what
they could, some carrying what was left of the others. They all came. We waited
for them all. It was important to wait.”
He stopped and thought for a moment. “There were some that had been secreted
inside the house itself. One girl came out mummified, said they’d kept her to
play with even after death. A boy came out without....” He stopped talking
abruptly as a memory of something even worse than a wood chipper came to his
mind. Miss Susie’s full attention was back on him now but this time she didn’t
make him continue, she just bowed her head in sadness.
“They all came back.” He finally announced. “We waited for them all. It was
important they be allowed to finally pass on from that place.”
“And you let them, didn’t you, my Dean?”
He shrugged. “It just happened. I wasn’t sure how to, but it did anyway.”
“No Dean-boy. You did something. I heard you. You don’t remember?” She leant
forward, close to his face again. The watchers in the kitchenette all stained
their ears to listen.
He looked at her blankly. She smiled at him. “You asked God to help you to help
them. You asked Him. And He did as you asked. He opened the gates, do you
remember?”
Dean wasn’t convinced. He was sounding exhausted now and his voice was
beginning to slur again. “I remember the light. I remember all those kids, all
those mutilated spirits suddenly becoming whole and unhurt again as they should
have been, all smiling, all thanking me as they moved towards it. But I didn’t
do nothing.”
“You did, boy. You did. And He was listening. And once they’d all gone, the
light was still there and I was wondering why, well boy, do you remember what
you said?”
Dean nodded. “I asked if you were going through because it was waiting for
you.”
“You did.” Even without her teeth, her smile for him was so open and full of
love. “You knew it was for me. Because you’d asked for me to be allowed to
enter Heaven too.” He didn’t seem to understand what she was meaning. Sam was
getting more and more worried about him. ”My kind don’t go to Heaven, Dean-boy.
You’d just seen where my kind ended up.”
“But you hadn’t hurt anyone, ma’am.”
“No. But that doesn’t usually follow, does it boy? You should know that better
than anyone. But you’d asked for me to be allowed. And He was letting me. You
aren’t aware that He watches you, are you, boy?”
Dean blinked. They all did. “He? You mean....”
“God. Yes. He watches you. Always has. Mmm, I know you don’t believe in Him,
but He sure believes in you! He allowed me into Heaven that day because you
asked Him to.” She paused to make sure she had his now flagging attention for
her next words. “He let your girl in because you asked Him to. Remember how you
asked as you held her body? He let her in as well.”
Dean caught his breath and stared at her. “Emma? She’s in Heaven?”
“She is, Dean-boy. Cos you asked Him to allow it. He let your little girl in.
She’s with me! I got to Heaven, do you know what my happy memories were? You,
my beautiful Dean, You! I didn’t have any of my own. Not with what I am. Not
with my life. So I asked Him if my happiness could be you! And He let me. And
I’ve watched your entire life, forwards and back. And now Emma’s with me. And
we’ll wait, boy. Wait for you to join us. But you take your time, ‘cos there’s
a long way for you to go yet.”
“Who’s Emma?” Jodie whispered to Sam, who had been dreading the question the
moment the girl had been mentioned. He sighed.
“Dean’s daughter. I shot her dead. I thought, I still think, she was going to
kill him.”
Jodie gasped loudly. “Dean has a daughter?”
“It’s a long story.”
“And you killed her, Sam?”
He wilted under Jodie’s expression. “I’ll explain later.”
He didn’t want to. Ever.
They hushed as they realised Dean and Miss Susie were still talking.
“You really speaking about God?”
“Mmm, He’s there, boy. Always has been. Despite what you think. You’ve just got
to know where to look. You asked for me to be allowed. And I was. Me! To
Heaven! To you as my Heaven! I’m so proud of you, my Dean. You’ve done bad, you
know you have. And you will do again, you won’t help it. But you’ve done so
much good and that outweighs it. Always will as long as you keep trying to do
good. Even when tempted to do bad. And I know you will. ‘Cos you’re my Dean.
You’ll come home to your little girl and me in the end.
But I never finished my story.
So all the children went through. And I went through. And that left you all
alone. Still battered, but outright defiant. It wasn’t your time! Took you damn
near three days to get back to your motel. You walked the whole way, avoided
everyone and everything. But you were so determined. You found a payphone and
called the police to tell them about that house on the way. At least some of
the poor parents would have answers. Once you’d got back, you slept one entire
day, then had the last one to tidy yourself up and hide the pain and the
bruises before your brother returned. Not that he noticed: he was far too
excited about his trip. Didn’t care that you were having difficulty breathing
or stringing two words together in a row and were peeing blood for an entire
month.
Your daddy wondered though, didn’t he, when he finally returned a week later?
Decided it was time that you should go and learn the job properly. Made you go
with him. Shame because he beat your natural niceness out of you, caused you to
just kill without asking whether they were really monsters or not simply just
different. Taken you a lot of years to relearn what you had already known
anyway. Your damned daddy. But I suppose it stopped you taking such risks going
out. I was glad about that. Not that your family don’t always appreciate the
money, whichever way you get it for them.”
Sam flinched suddenly as he realised that that part was meant for him. And
despite himself he began to wonder: when had Dean ever stopped getting money
that way? Did he even still have to do so? It had only been the last few months
that Sam could say with any real certainty that he knew where Dean was at
night. Or at least, most of them.
But as he looked across at his brother with yet more questions beginning to
burn in his chest, they all dissipated as he saw Dean’s face. He looked
exhausted as well as haunted by some truly horrific memories that he, Sam, had
insisted on stirring up for him. Plus God knows what that witch had been doing
to him: she had certainly been doing something. To them all, as none of the
three, even Bobby, could have moved from the small kitchenette they’d been
standing all this time in if they’d tried. But he was most worried about his
brother.
He felt real relief as the ghost kissed Dean’s forehead tenderly in farewell.
“We’ll be waiting for you, my Dean-boy. But don’t you hurry now. You hear me?”
“Bye Miss Susie.” Dean’s eyes were definitely glazing over immediately after
that kiss. “Give Emma a hug from me. Tell her I’m on my way.”
“Oh, Boy." She tutted at him. "Don’t you dare.”
She leant forward again and this time did touch her bruised and battered lips
to his. “You sleep now. I’m always there with you, boy: you just keep
remembering that. And keep on doing good. Bye. My Dean.”
And with that her form flickered and was gone.
There was total silence in the cabin for a few minutes.
Then: “Jesus!” Jodie sat down abruptly on the floor where she had been standing
for so long.
Sam and Bobby felt the same. They had caused this. They had put Dean through
this. Sam’s legs felt wobbly and he also felt the need to sit down. Whatever
that ghost, witch, whatever she had been: she was obviously very powerful.
Death hadn’t altered that. In fact from what she had been saying, death had had
very much the opposite effect.
Sam shook himself bodily, feeling the last of whatever the containing spell had
been fall away from him. He hurried to his brother’s side and knew immediately
that something was wrong.
“Shit!” his outburst brought the other’s heads around.
“Sam?”
But he was already shaking Dean, trying to get him awake. “Dean? Dean! Come on!
Wake up! Jodie! Get his hands!”
She was already there. Now she and Bobby could see why Sam was getting frantic.
Dean’s eyes were open but he obviously wasn’t behind them.
“Is he breathing?”
“Yes. And I can feel a pulse. But he’s not waking up, Jodie!”
She had by this time undone the handcuffs from round Dean’s wrists. They all
winced as they saw the deep bloody welts that the hard metal had caused the
last few days opened up again. “Get him up on the sofa.”
“I’ll get some water.”
“And smelling salts! Anything you can think of to try and get him out of this.”
“Should we take him to the hospital?”
“We can’t risk it. Those things found him at the last one.”
“What do we do?”
“I don’t know, Sam. I’m gonna patch those wounds up. You just keep trying to
get him back from wherever she's put him.”
It seemed a long time and a lot of pinching, shaking, splashing with cold water
and yelling at him before Dean finally and shakily stirred.
Not much, but enough to focus on his relieved brother. “What?” He didn’t seem
to know where he was, or what had just happened, and his voice was rough and
very slurred, making him sound extremely drunk or majorly concussed.
“You okay? Dean. Talk to me!”
“Head hurts.”
It was all he could say. But it was at least words, of a sort.
Sam could feel his frustration at his brother build again. “For fuck’s sake!
Why couldn’t you just tell us this?” He rubbed his hands through his long hair
in frustration and yelled at Dean. “Why did you let us put you through this? I
know how horrible your life has been, because of dad and because of me. I feel
sick that you had to sell yourself to keep me alive. Especially when I’ve been
such an ungrateful little shit most of the time!
But this? It’s not your fault you were raped by these human monsters Dean. It’s
not your fault! Why wouldn’t you just answer my questions? Why go through this?
Why not just talk to me. How can anybody be angry at you about this?”
He walked away. Felt himself begin to cry. God, what had he done to Dean?
Because of him, Sam: he had brought that....thing....back to his brother. And
she had done something that probably wasn’t good. He had stood and watched her
do something to him and hadn’t been able to stop it. What the hell had she
done? If he had just left it alone as Dean had begged him to? God, why did Sam
always, always mess everything up where Dean was concerned. And why did Dean
always have to suffer because of it?
But why, why, why wouldn’t Dean had just told him? What was so terrible about
his treatment at the hands of those three sadists that he had refused, point
blank refused to talk about it at all to either his brother or his uncle?
Embarassment? He had nothing to be embarrassed about! What was it that he had
felt determined to keep silent about? He rounded on his still all-but-comatose
brother again.
“What the hell was so vitally important about that secret that you were
prepared to go through this rather than reveal it?”
Bobby glanced at him and sighed: he was still trying to get Dean to focus on
him for more than a moment or two at a time.
It was Jodie who reluctantly answered him.
“Because it’s distracting you from asking about the other secret, Sam. And
that’s the one that he’s terrified about you knowing.”
Both Bobby and Sam stared at her blankly.
Jodie kept her head down and sighed. “This is the worst thing about being a
cop.” She stared up at Sam’s desperate expression, indicated for Bobby to get
out of the way so she could kneel in front of Dean and take his face in her
hands. Gently but firmly she forced Dean to focus on her.
“Hey Dean! How’s it going?” Her voice was overly bright and very loud. “Hey!
You in there?” She put her face closer to his. “Come back and talk to me,
Dean.”
Slowly he responded, gradually returning from wherever he had been in his mind.
He frowned. “Jodie? What are you doing here?”
Jodie batted Sam away with her hand as he started to exclaim at his brother,
and gave all her attention back to Dean. “Oh! I just dropped by! I’ve got a
question for you Dean. I need you to answer it. It’s important that you do.
Okay?”
She wasn’t sure if he was even listening, none of them were, but slowly he
nodded, still being held upright with her hands on his face.
“Okay. Just concentrate for a moment, okay? She made sure he was still focused
on her. “It’s a simple question, Dean.” She took a breath and hated herself for
doing this to him. “How old were you when your daddy first raped you?”
There was a sharp intake of breath from both brothers and an attempt at a gasp
by Bobby, but it was only Dean’s reaction that she was interested in. He
flinched, despite the state he was in and tried to pull out of her hands,
trying desperately to turn away from her intense gaze.
Behind her Sam gasped. “Don’t be stupid! He’d never....” and then it all became
clear as the obvious hit him. Dean had been desperate for him to stop asking.
Had been really so much more desperate than Sam could fathom. He would only do
that, be so completely irrationally.....irrational if he was protecting someone
desperately with everything he had. And the only person in the entire world
apart from Sam, that he would protect like that even if they had done something
completely disgustingly terrible, was their father.
He felt stunned. He looked at Bobby for support and saw the same stunned look
returned to him in the older man’s eyes. The thought hadn’t occurred to either
of them. And it should have. Oh God, it should have.
Jodie was still waiting for Dean’s response. She wished she hadn’t recognised
what that spirit had been trying to hint at without saying it outright, but she
had. And she understood the witch, ghost, thing’s desire that this had to come
out. It was time for the truth, for this poor man in front of her who had
buried this shame unfairly for so long if for nothing else. Especially after
that afternoon of discovering all he had been through. It was time for secrets
like this, that should have never been his in the first place, to be let go of.
All this was going through her head while she was waiting for him to answer
her. She knew that she had to make him answer, despite the state he was in. She
waited until he had no choice but to meet her eyes again. Finally he did,
accepted that she was going to outlast him in this particular battle of wills
and dropped his gaze to the floor.
“He never raped me.” It was a mumble, but they were all listening intently. ”He
just missed mom, that’s all.”
“How old were you when he started to miss her like that?” He tried not to meet
her eyes again, but she gave his head a small shake and made him look up. “How
old were you, Dean?”
He looked down again. “Bout eight. Bout then.”
“Sweet Jesus!” Jodie started as Bobby couldn’t help himself. He had to get up
and walk out of the small room, walked right through the main entrance door he
was so agitated. Sam also got up and walked around, his hands in his hair, his
face absolutely.... as a face that had just had every illusion about a hero
shattered to pieces would look.
But Jodie was now in Sherriff mode. She gently released Dean's face, giving him
a huge hug instead. The she crossed to where Sam was standing, his eyes
glinting with tears. She could have cried with him on seeing his face.
“You had no idea, did you?”
“None! I. I had issues with the man. God, I had issues with the man. And I know
he beat Dean sometimes though it was really rare that he laid a finger on me. I
suppose that was Dean as well, taking the heat off me. Distracting any
attention. But this. I never.... how could he do it, Jodie? Everything Dean’s
done, everything he’s been made to give up. And he....? How could he do it? And
why, God, why didn’t I know? I should have known. I should have helped him,
protected him somehow.”
“That’s a lot of questions Sam. And I can’t answer them. But right now he needs
you. He’s not fully there in his head, Sam. I don’t know what that thing did to
him, but you have to look after him first before you can collapse. Okay?”
He nodded. It was obvious to her that he had never suspected this at all, the
thought of it had never even crossed his mind. She wished, she so wished that
she had been wrong.
“When did he last eat?”
Sam tried to shake off his own thoughts and think rationally for a moment. “We
haven’t let him eat since we got here. So well over two days ago. We wouldn’t
let him to try and force him to talk to us. I’m sorry, Jodie.”
“Nothing you’ve got to be sorry about. And absolutely nothing for him to be
sorry about. That’s going to be the most importantand the most difficult thing
to get through to him. Although now I think about it, you kissing him the way
you did earlier. And what that witch said about you holding him down....”
Sam blushed furiously and couldn’t meet her eyes.
“Hmm.” She frowned at him. “Well, after learning about forty years in Hell, and
Angels, and Bobby being a ghost, and witches and travelling through time and
everything, perhaps that isn’t so abnormal for you two as it should be. And he
sure seemed to be happy after it and with what you said in his ear. But don’t
make a habit of it when I’m around, will you?”
“We won’t. I mean.” Sam stopped himself, unsure of what to say. Jodie smiled at
him.
“Okay. Try and get him with us a bit more. I’m still worried about him. No more
questions though.” This was an order that came with a frown. “He’s had enough.
I’ll try and find something for him to eat.”
She paused. “He’s going to be damaged Sam.” He looked at her, the tears still
obvious in his eyes and his face deathly pale. “He’s been forced to remember
things that he obviously didn’t want to. Look at the state of him. You’ve got
to look after him now.”
“I caused this. “ Sam whispered sadly. “I couldn’t let it go.”
“I couldn’t either.” Bobby had returned, his face somehow shining and grubby as
if tears had been hastily scrubbed at with dirty but unreal sleeves. “But
Jodie’s right. He’s got to come first now. We can fall apart later.”
***** The Aftermath *****
Dean woke up and groaned. He hadn’t had such a hangover for years. In fact, he
couldn’t ever remember having such a bad hangover. His head felt like someone
had been physically stirring his brain around in his head with something sharp
and had just left all the pieces floating free and bouncing around in the space
inside his skull. He frowned and decided not to try and move. But. He couldn’t
remember drinking. In fact, he couldn’t remember anything. He started to sweat
as he desperately tried to. What was his name? It took him a long moment, but
there it was: Dean Winchester. That was his name. He was sure of it. Start with
that.
The rest quickly returned, as if some of the pieces in his head had formed the
correct connection once he had given them the starting point. He lay still,
grimacing with the pain in his head, but just letting the memories return: some
good but not many, most not good, some really terrible. But at least they were
there, and his.
Finally he could remember pretty well up to yesterday. The last clear thing he
could recall was being handcuffed with his hands behind him to the chair in the
basement. He could remember digging out that large splinter of wood from the
back of the chair with his nails to pick the cuffs with. He carefully rubbed
his finger across his other hand as he lay: he could definitely feel part of
the splinter still embedded in it, so that at least must be true. That had
really happened. But after that. After escaping the basement, everything in his
mind felt fuzzy.
Okay. Try not to think about it. Think about something else. Like, he was so
hot. Why was he so hot? It was an effort to even move his head it was hurting
him so much, but he tried to look around so he could establish where he was
now. Not in the basement anyway. He was lying flat on a bed. Where was he?
It took him a long moment to recognise that he was actually lying fully
clothed, apart from his boots, in one of the single beds in Rufus’s old cabin.
Fuck, why was his head hurting so much? Even just turning it a little had sent
waves of pain running through him. Oh, that was why he was hot.
Sam was beside him in the small bed. More than beside him: he was wrapped
around him. Dean could feel the weight of his leg over his own, and his
brother’s arms were holding him so tight to his own chest that even if Dean’s
own head would have let him, he couldn’t have moved. But he was so hot: he
needed to get away from Sam’s full-on oven temperature-like body heat before he
ignited and went up in flames like.....like something that he suddenly didn’t
want to think about.
Okay Dean. Concentrate on getting off the bed. Carefully he tried. Tried to
loosen Sam’s grip around his back of his neck and shoulders, tried to ease that
long orang-utan arm off his chest. And as he did, Sam’s eyes opened as if he
hadn’t been asleep at all but had instead just been lying there waiting for him
to wake up.
Dean flinched at the look in his brother’s eyes. It was the look that he’d come
to dread most. Sam’s eyes were angry, revengeful, single-minded. It was the
look that he’d had for so long when Dean had been snatched back from Hell. Sam
was too much like their father: desire for revenge would rule him and ruin him.
He would forget and ignore the day to day pleasures, and concentrate all his
attention on something, anything that would get him to the desired target of
eliminating the pain. But it only ever made more. Dean felt fear prickle inside
him at that look. But he couldn’t think, or simply couldn’t remember, who it
could be that Sam was that angry at this time. He hoped it wasn’t him: no, if
it were him he’d be dead, not lying here next to Sam. But who was it?
And then Sam blinked and his entire expression changed. His eyes filled full of
love and he was smiling so sweetly, just for Dean. Dean felt himself smiling
back. Sam rolled himself forward, using his tight grip around Dean’s body to
bring himself on top of his brother.
“Hey.” His voice was soft, gentle, full of anxiety. “You okay?”
Dean stared up into his eyes, tried to respond to the soft kiss that was
seeking his lips to part, but he had to pull away. “My head is.... What
happened? How are we here? Like this?”
Sam carefully moved back to lay at his side. “You had a ..... well, whatever it
was, you collapsed. Bobby told me to bring you in here and stay with you until
you woke up.” He chuckled. “He didn’t say I shouldn’t be in the bed with you!”
The laughter should have been music to Dean’s ears, but oh shit, the noise of
it hurt his head. He groaned and put his hand up to the spot where it pounded
the most. There. Just above the bit right between his eyes. Even just touching
his head, he thought that part of him felt hotter than the rest. Although he
was still too hot everywhere.
Sam watched him with concern. “You okay?”
“My head’s banging. Really banging. I’ve never known anything like it. And I’m
so hot.”
Sam was immediately getting out of the bed. “I’ll get you some water and some
pain-killers. And Bobby has been pacing outside for ages. How a ghost can make
so much noise, I’ll never know. I’ll let him know you’re awake.” He disappeared
through the door. Dean could hear voices and the older man was suddenly there
at his side with a worried look on his face.
“You okay, boy? You really frightened us, you know.”
I’m sorry, Bobby.” It was Dean’s automatic response to everything. Bobby sighed
at him.
“You don’t need to be sorry, boy. You couldn’t help it! Just get better and
don’t do it again. I don’t want either of you joining me for a long time.”
If it were possible for a ghost to lose colour, Bobby paled as Dean winced
again and put his hand to his head. Sam was back with a glass of water. They
could both see that Dean was struggling, really struggling to raise himself up
enough to take it, his head was causing him that much pain. They exchanged
anxious looks, then Sam knelt and helped Dean up enough so he could get hold of
the glass without tipping it all over himself. Sam silently handed him the
tablets he had also brought and Dean swallowed them.
“Hand me that other pillow.” Bobby floated it from the other bed and Sam used
it to prop Dean up slightly and sat on the mattress beside him. “So. How you
feeling? Apart from your head, that is?”
“What happened? I don’t.....”
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing.” The other two men stared at each other with worry. “I can remember
breaking out of the basement yesterday. Setting off running. That damn gazelle
of a brother of mine chasing me down and flattening me.” He tried to grin at
Sam, but couldn’t contain the wince as his head pounded at the just that small
movement. Again he tried to ease it from the outside with the heel of his hand.
Again he missed the concerned look that the others shared. “But after that.
Nothing. It’s all fuzzy.”
“That was three days ago, Dean.” Sam’s voice was so quiet he almost missed the
words.
“Three days? Ouch.” Again his hand to his head as he had tried to move. “But.
What happened? What did I do? Bobby?” He turned to the older man’s spirit
anxiously.
“Nothing, boy. You didn’t do nothing. Don’t you go worrying about anything like
that. You just... had a turn and frightened the crap out of us, that’s all.
Now. You just lie there and go back to sleep if you can. Perhaps that head of
yours will be better when you wake up again. Sam, can I have a word?”
The tall young man followed him out of the room as he flickered away in a
heartbeat. Dean could hear whispering, but the effort of trying to listen was
too much. All he was aware of was the pain inside his head and....three days.
What had he done this time that he had to make up for? Oh shit, his head hurt
so much.
Sam returned into the room, closing the door behind him. He came and lay on the
bed besides Dean. “This okay? Or I can go over there if you’d prefer.”
“No. Stay.”
Sam reached and pulled his brother over into his arms again. He had lain for a
long time, near enough the whole three days, waiting for Dean to come properly
out of that almost waking coma, and he was still really worried. What had she
done to him? But he said nothing, instead he just nuzzled Dean’s neck with his
lips. “Go back to sleep. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m so hot.” Dean again tried to sit up so he could strip some of his layers
off. Again the agony of his head nearly overwhelmed him. He felt he was going
to black out with the pain: he just wanted it to stop.
Sam helped him in silence until he was down to his t-shirt. “Do you want your
jeans off as well?"
But even that small effort had been too much, and Dean shook his head, or
rather he tried to before again clutching at it in pain and collapsing back on
the bed. Sam studied him as he lay with his eyes closed trying to control
himself. God, Dean looked exhausted. What had that bitch done to him? How could
he have let her have him?
He lay back beside his brother, “May I come under the covers with you?”
Dean nodded, winced, didn’t open his eyes. As an afterthought Sam removed his
top layers as well before joining his brother. He should have thought of that
before: Dean was always hot in bed even without being ill. Carefully he
snuggled upto his brother’s side and placed his arm over his chest, trying to
hold him without giving him too much extra heat.
There was silence in the room for a long time. Sam lay and watched Dean: all
the stresses of the last few days had left marks on his face. He had lines even
in rest that hadn’t been there just a few short months ago. That was Sam’s
fault. Because he just couldn’t leave things alone. Even if it meant Dean paid
the price for it.
He had thought his brother had gone back to sleep and was surprised when he
noticed Dean’s eyes were open and he was just staring at the ceiling. “You
okay?”
“Why can’t I remember? What’s happened, Sammy?”
He hugged Dean tighter and kissed his neck. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Hmph.” But he didn’t pull away from Sam’s arms.
They lay in further silence. Sam just watched Dean try to remember. Fuck, if
all those images and memories that witch-ghost had summoned up three days ago
were still floating around in his brother’s head, then no wonder he was
confused. Sam found himself hoping he wouldn’t remember, or at least not all of
it.
Dean frowned with the effort and flinched as another jolt of pain seared
through his brain. It felt like something was physically attacking him with a
hammer now, but from the inside of his skull trying to get out of his head. He
again tried to ease it with a rub from his hand, but it wasn’t really helping.
Neither had the tablets.
He knew Sam was watching him closely so he tried to put a smile on his face for
him. “Stop staring at me.”
Sam raised himself up on his elbow and leant over his brother. He removed
Dean’s hand from where it was desperately pressing against that place that the
pain seemed to be worse and replaced it with his lips. As he gently nuzzled and
licked against Dean’s forehead just above and between his eyes, he noticed that
it seemed to be very warm. Warmer than the rest of that area. Memories of
Dean’s eyes glowing with such intense unnatural brightness made him worry even
more.
Then Dean was flinching again and pushing him away. “Not helping.”
“Sorry.”
“Didn’t mean to be horrible. Just. If you want to go and do something, then I’m
okay. I just need to work out what happened.”
“I know,” He lay back down and pulled Dean gently up off the bed enough that he
could get his arm around and under his neck and hold him close. “I’m staying
here as long as that’s okay with you.”
He didn’t expect an answer, didn’t care that he didn’t get one. He knew to just
stay quiet and wait.
“So.” Dean was more talking out loud to himself than to his brother. “I
remember running. I. Dammit, why can’t I remember?”
“It’ll come. Don’t try and force it. Think about something else.”
“Like what?” Dean snapped a little at him and immediately felt guilty. “Sorry.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I mean it,” as Dean managed to turn his head
towards him. “You’ve done nothing to be worried about. Just relax, it will
happen on its own. Just think about something else.”
Dean looked at him for a long moment: Sam didn’t like the look, he wondered
what Dean was thinking about now. Carefully Dean turned his head back so he
could look at the ceiling again. He didn’t speak, but Sam could feel himself
getting tense as he waited: what had that look been about?
“Who have you got your revenge face on for?” Sam blinked, he wasn’t sure what
he had been expecting but it wasn’t that.
“What?”
“Your revenge face. Your ‘I’m going to destroy this thing even if I give
everything and lose everyone while I’m doing it’ face. Shit, my head!” Again
the hammering pain, again his hand came up to it.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Yes he did really. How did Dean know?
“Don’t give me that!” Dean was pushing on his forehead, but he was angry and
turning to Sam. “I saw your face when I woke up. Who are you so mad at that
you’re lying there plotting how to find them and kill them? Come on, who?”
Sam was really taken aback. “It’s nothing. I’m just….cross at someone for
something. Forget it, Dean.”
Why had his words been the wrong answer? Dean quietened, still rubbing his
head, and just stared at him. “It’s something to do with me again, isn’t it?
That’s why you, neither of you, will tell me what’s happened yesterday....since
three days ago. Has something been done to me? Whatever it is, Sam, just tell
me.”
“Why would you think it’s something to do with you?” Sam could feel his own
temper rising now.
“Because it was last time. I could understand with Jess, that made sense. But
with me, and Lileth, that was your damned possessiveness of me doing it. You
had to have your revenge on her at all costs. It nearly was at all costs. And
you had that face on again when I woke up.”
“Dean, you’re being stupid.”
“Am I? Then tell me what’s happened these last three days! Actually no! You
just listen! If it is to do with me, then just forget it! Because, just like
Lileth, if it’s something been done to me then it’s not your revenge to take.”
“If someone hurts you, then I’m going to kill them!” The words were out before
Sam could think about them. “It is my revenge if you…..” He paused, tried to
make himself calm down. Dean had only just awakened after being completely out
of it for all that time, he could hardly move with the pain in his head where
that fucking bitch had poured her magic into him, Sam was so angry at her for
doing that to him that he was going to….he could hardly speak. “You’re my
brother. First and foremost. If someone hurts you they answer to me.”
“That’s dad talking. He dragged us behind him through our lives to get revenge
on that yellow-eyed bastard for what? He died before he could do it and it
turned out that mom had caused it all by making the deal with the damn thing
anyway! She caused all of this! I love her to pieces, but she caused all of
this. And you got that look in your eyes about Jess and went after it as well.
Okay I understand that. She was what your life should have been, what you
really truly wanted. I get that. I got it then.
But when you obsessed about Lileth because of what she did to me? That was my
deal! My fault! And somehow I got away with it, ended up back here. Well I damn
well know why now: fucking angels, but if anyone should have gone after Lileth
it should have been me not you. It wasn’t your revenge to take. It was mine and
I didn’t want it: I was just happy to be alive. But you and your damned single-
minded face…..Who is it now? Who you going after now? Because if it’s to do
with me, then I don’t want it, whatever it is then I don’t want you going after
revenge. It’s not yours to take!”
Sam was stunned. Where had that come from? Of course he was going to protect
his brother. Of course he was going to look after him, even if Dean couldn’t
see that he needed looking after. And of course, if anyone hurt Dean then Sam
was damn well going to hurt them back. Hard. With or without his brother’s
backing. But Dean was still talking.
“So. Who is it that you’re angry at? Just tell me.”
“It don’t matter, I’ll sort it!”
“No you won’t. Not for me when I don’t want it. You just tell me then you leave
it. I mean it Sam. You leave me to decide what I’m going to do. If I want to do
anything at all.”
“You’re being stupid!”
“You told me that. And I’m telling you! Whatever it is, whatever’s happened,
you leave it. Before you get us both killed or worse again.”
That hit home. Sam winced, felt tears prickle in his eyes.
“I couldn’t bear what Lileth did.” He admitted, his voice felt so small. “I
stood and watched you get torn to pieces, and I knew that was only the start of
it. That you were really going to be suffering every minute from then on. And I
tried, I really tried, to get you back. To do another deal.”
“I’m damn glad you didn’t...” His brother started to interject, but Sam put his
hand up over his mouth so he could finish what he had to say.
“Well, none of them would take one. And yes, we know why now. Because all the
pieces were being put into place around us. Had been all our lives. More than
all our fucking lives, since before we were born. But at the time, all I knew
is that you’d been taken, and it wasmy fault, and I couldn’t get you back. No
matter how hard I tried.
And She was there. And I know you’d warned me about her before you were taken.
And how hard you tried to warn me when you came back. But she, Ruby,” he could
hardly bear to say her name. “She’d already got her claws in me by then. Made
me an addict. Made me not think straight. Made me think that somehow killing
Lileth would put everything else right. And I know that was my fault as well,
I’m so ashamed of how I was and what I did. But I couldn’t bear being without
you and not doing something about it. Because she hurt you, Dean! And I
couldn’t bear it!”
“It wasn’t your revenge to take, Sammy. Only a fucking obsession that nearly
destroyed everyone.” But Dean sounded calmer than he had a minute ago. “And I
know...she....”he had such distaste in his voice as he said that, “was more
than a part of it. But....I’ve got to go to the john.” With that announcement
he began to try and get out of the bed, swinging his feet out to the floor and
starting to stand up.
He went down like a nine pin, hitting the wooden floor with a loud bang. Sam
rushed round to see him in a crumpled heap, holding his head in agony, tears of
pain swirling in his eyes. “Dean! Dean. Here. Let’s get you up on the bed.
Shit, what has that bitch done to you?”
He all but lifted his brother up bodily, putting him back on the mattress and
carefully pulling his legs round so Dean could lie back down. But he stayed
sitting upright, both hands pressed to his forehead now and wincing with the
pain. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
By this time, Bobby had come bursting straight through the closed door in a
panic at the sudden loud noise. He took one look, floated up the trashcan and
held it ready. Dean swallowed hard and tried to ride the force of the pain
away. He could barely see as bright white flashes of a greeny-blue hue were
obscuring his vision, ’just a reaction from the headache’ he thought.
It finally subsided enough for him to be able to see again and the nausea to
ease a little. “Sorry.” he apologised to the other two.
"Don’t be.” Bobby grunted, but he was looking anxiously at Sam. “We have to get
him to a hospital.”
“I know, Bobby. But where’s safe? And what will we tell them?”
“What bitch?”
They both looked at Dean.
“You just said something about a bitch doing something to me. What bitch? What
did she do?” This was to Sam, who bit his lip in frustration at himself. He
looked to Bobby for help. “Come on, who? Crap.” Dean’s hands came up again as
his own raised voice hurt his head. He tried to calm himself down. “Sam, could
you help me into the bathroom please. I don’t think I can get there on my own.”
“I’ll find you a bottle.” Bobby rose from where he had been sitting on the bed,
still holding the trash can.
“No you won’t.” Dean’s voice was low but firm. “I’m getting in there no matter
what.”
“Bloody stubborn son of a.....” Bobby grumbled as he moved to materialise the
doors open ready as Sam leant to pull Dean’s arm up and around his shoulder and
began to help him try to stand again. Dean felt better with the support and
managed to make the short distance without feeling his head was going to
explode too much. Once in the doorway he reached for the basin and began to
push the door closed behind him.
“No. Leave it open.” Sam moved to stop him.
“Go to hell.” he was told, but without too much malice.
Dean examined himself him in the mirror as he rinsed his hands after, needing
to leave one resting against the wall at all times to prop himself up. No
wonder they were so worried, he thought. He looked like shit. He washed his
face and neck as well and felt a little better, although he was still getting
flashes across his vision and he wished the headache would go away. But he was
feeling a little hungry now. In fact, more than a little as someone must be
cooking something good somewhere: the smell of meat pie, or stew or whatever it
was, was making his mouth water.
“Nearly done now, boy. I’m sorry it’s been hurting you.” He blinked at the
horrifically disfigured ghost behind him in the mirror and turned to her with
an immediate smile.
“Miss Susie? What’cha doin’ here?”
From outside the door there were immediate shouts of alarm and a loud thump as
Sam tried to get through the door. “Dean. Dean! Get away from her!”
He was bewildered. “How do they know you?”
“Oh, we had a small discussion a coupla days ago. I’m sorry that this has been
hurting you. It’s taken a lot of magic, an awful lot. But it’s almost there.”
Her image flickered away and reappeared right in front of him, reaching to take
his face in her hands and pull his lips across to her battered ones as she was
nearly as tall as him. It was an easy, gentle kiss: neither of them noticed or
cared at the frantic hammering on the door. “We’re done waiting, boy.” she
whispered.
He blinked as he found himself alone in the bathroom just as Bobby finally
managed to get through the blockade of power and Sam broke the door open and
burst in. Had he just dreamt that?
Then Sam had his hands on his shoulders and was shaking him in his
anguish.”What did she do? What did she want?”
“I.” Dean couldn’t think for a moment. But he realised the pain in his head was
suddenly receding, as if the pressure of something had been building up behind
a dam of some sort which had abruptly given way, allowing the something to flow
in one massive rush through to its ultimate destination. It had happened just
as she had kissed him in fact. Or had he just imagined her?
“Dean!” Sam had his face in his large hands and was forcing him to look up at
him. “What did she do?” His words were slow and careful. Dean felt a moment’s
irritation that he was talking to him like he was an imbecile, like he couldn’t
understand basic English, like he was somebody not fully there in the real
world to understand the question.
“For fuck’s sake, you’re hurting!” he pushed Sam away from him roughly. “She
didn’t do anything! In fact she took the pain away, it’s all gone. I feel fine
now.”
“Jesus. What now?” Bobby was also frantic.
“She’s the reason you’ve been out of it for three days!” Sam burst out. “She
did something to you. I couldn’t stop her! What did she do this time?”
“Miss Susie? She wouldn’t hurt me. And she just stopped the pain for me.” Dean
was pushing past him.
“She was the cause of it, boy.” Bobby stopped him by suddenly appearing in
front. “She poured so much magic into you. Took you somewhere else in your
head. You’ve been out all this time, Dean. We didn’t think we were going to get
you back.”
Dean stared at him in confusion, then at Sam. “Is that you’ve been mad at? Miss
Susie? Don’t worry. Whatever it was, it's okay, she would never hurt me.”
“That bitch was the one that put you out!” Sam roared at him. “Your eyes were
glowing. Christ, you were glowing! What did she do to you? I’m gonna.....”
“Going to what, Sam?” Dean’s temper was also rising. “Going to seek revenge on
a ghost? Is that what you’ve been lying there plotting? She. She’s part of my
past. Nothing to do with you. And whatever it is, she would never hurt me!”
“But she did!”
“No, she didn’t! She just took the pain away!”
“She gave you the pain!”
“Then she must have a good reason!” Dean shouted. The other two men stared at
him in frustration. He took a deep breath and tried to speak reasonably. “She’s
a.... friend, Sam. Has been for a long time. Nothing you need to bother about.
And I trust her. If she’s come back after all this time to do something, then
it’s for a good reason and I trust her.”
“Oh, for fuck’s.... You talk to him!” Sam all but threw his hands in the air
and walked away, leaving Bobby to try and think another way to argue with his
very stubborn brother.
“Dean. That little lady is a very powerful witch. She appeared. Here. And she
did something to you. What, I don’t know. But it frightened me, son. Really
frightened me.”
“I’m sorry it did, Bobby. I’m sorry I can’t remember to tell you. But I do know
it’s nothing bad. Not Miss Susie. Not to me.”
“And why is that, Dean?” Sam was returning, his temper still on full burn. “Cos
she’s your friend? What about Amy? She was my friend. Why was she different?”
“Because she’d killed four people, Sam! That’s why she was different! She’d
already murdered four people. And you wanted to let her go because she ‘said’
she wouldn’t do any more. Well, not until her son was sick again, or she was!
That’s why she was different!”
“So she’d killed them! What about Emma: she was going to kill you but you
weren’t going to stop her, were you? You’d have let her!”
“But she didn’t Sam. How many times? If it had come to it, well, I don’t know
what I’d have done. But she didn’t! She hadn’t even tried! You never even gave
her the chance to decide to kill me or not!”
His voice broke suddenly. He paled in front of them and stilled completely.
“Emma? She‘s in Heaven isn’t she? That’s what Miss Susie came to tell me. God,
I remember now. Emma’s in Heaven with her.”
He backed away from the other men, feeling behind him for the wall as if he was
going to fall down if he had no support. They both heard him whisper to himself
“She’s in Heaven.”
Sam noticed his brother absently rub at the inside of his left wrist in a
strange motion with his other hand. “Oh hell, no.” He charged forward and
grabbed roughly at him again, slamming his back against the wall. He caught for
Dean’s wrist and held it up roughly. “No! Don’t you even think of joining them!
You’re staying here and living out your life! No slitting your wrists, or
bullets to the brain. Don’t even start to think it! You’re staying here with
me!
Please” he added in a much calmer, quieter voice as Dean stared up at him.
“Stay with me, Dean. I’m sorry for what I did to Emma, but she’s safe now, and
she’ll wait for you. Your Miss Susie told you that. She told you to live out
your life. So stay with me. Please.”
He had wedged his brother against the wall completely, using his larger body.
He held him there until Dean nodded. Only then could he relax. He knew that it
would be a long time before he would ever do so completely. But he gave the
show of doing so by stepping back and allowing Dean to breathe again.
He just stood against the wall as memories finally flooded back through him.
“She told you, didn’t she? She told you what happened?” They both felt their
heart’s break, even the un-beating heart broke at the stunned expression on his
face as he realised what had happened.
It was Bobby who found his voice first to answer him. “She did, boy. She knew
it was tearing you apart inside so she told us. Oh Dean, you shouldn’t have had
to live with that.” He wished he could gather his surrogate son into a massive
bear-hug. “You should have been able to tell us about that. What you had to do,
boy. It don’t bear thinking about.”
He tried to step forward but knew he would be mentally pushed away. He could
see Dean still struggling, trying desperately to get the last few missing
minutes from that day. “What else? What else do you know?”
“Nothing, boy. Nothing that matters.”
“Yes, it does.” Sam broke in, his voice suddenly raw and emotional. “Yes, it
does matter, Bobby. You should have told us, Dean. You should have told me
about....about dad.”
His words trailed off as he saw Dean’s sudden rapid change of expressions:
confusion, sudden understanding, then desperation, horror, and most unfairly of
all, guilt. Guilt that he had somehow betrayed their father. He thought Dean
was going to fall again and hastily moved to support him. Dean stepped away
from him in a big hurry, putting his arms up to block any attempt at an
embrace.
He couldn’t speak. He wouldn’t have known what to say anyway, but it didn’t
matter as he couldn’t physically speak. He had tried so hard to forget it, to
not let his father down again, to keep little Sammy innocent. And somehow he
had fucked up again. And he still couldn’t remember. But it didn’t matter.
Because they knew. Knew what a complete and total disgrace he was. Knew how
much he had deserved to go to Hell. How much he had always deserved to go there
anyway. Because of what had happened with his father.
And then Sam’s arms were around him so tight that he couldn’t breathe, but
didn’t want to. And his face was buried in his brother’s chest. And Sam’s large
hands were rubbing his back and he was telling him that it wasn’t his fault.
That it had never been his fault. That their father was a complete and total
bastard to ever have done that. That it wasn’t Dean’s fault. And he had to stop
thinking it was.
He could feel tears prickling in his eyes despite the numbness in his heart. He
had let his father down again: no, you hadn’t Dean, don’t you ever think that.
He let you down. The two conflicting voices, the one in his head and the one
that he recognised as his brother’s carried on, until he couldn’t bear it
anymore and the tears finally spilled over, soaking into the front of Sam’s
shirt.
By the time he had recovered, Bobby had left them alone. He hadn’t noticed
when. He only noticed that Sam still had his arms around him and was kissing
his face with such tenderness, and also had tear-marks down his face. When had
he been crying? And then Sam was leading him back into the bedroom and settling
him on the small bed so he was leaning against the headboard and Sam was
sitting beside him, still with his arms around him and pulling Dean closely to
his chest.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered into Dean’s ear. “This wasn’t your
fault. In no way was this your fault. And I’m sorry about Emma, I really am. I
should never have done that. But... don’t you think about going anywhere
without me. I need you. More than you’ll ever know. It’s going to be okay,
Dean. It is. It’s going to be okay.”
***** That Night in the Cabin *****
Sam sighed and walked into the main room of the small cabin. Bobby was sitting
outside the open doorway on the steps wishing he could drink coffee. He felt
unfairly irritated at Sam, who had poured himself one from the pot and moved to
join him as It felt good to get some fresh air after the tension that had
smothered the interior ever since they had got there over five days ago and
Dean had realised that he’d walked into a trap.
“How is he?” Bobby broke the silence.
“Finally gone back to sleep.” Sam rubbed his hand through his hair and felt
tears springing to his eyes again. “He’s absolutely wrecked, Bobby. I can’t
believe....”
“I know, boy. I’m having difficulty taking it all in. Every bit of it. And that
poor boy lived through it!”
“Why didn't I know, Bobby? How could I not know?”
“Don’t beat yourself up, son. Both your daddy and your brother have always been
good at hiding secrets. And at lying to all our faces. I had no idea
whatsoever, and that poor boy stayed with me for how long? I knew about the
bruises. That’s why your dad and me fell out, cos Dean was always covered in
bruises. I knew he took the brunt of your daddy’s frustration at not be able to
find that thing. But I never suspected this. Never even crossed my mind.”
“That’s more than I knew. I remember him hitting Dean on occasion, even kicked
him once. But not often.”
“Behind closed doors. Behind sleepy little eyes. John had a temper. Used to
knock your mother about. You ask Dean. It wasn’t the happy marriage your daddy
made out once she was dead.”
Sam sighed. “I saw. That day we were taken to Heaven together, I saw. I should
have realised then. About Dean I mean.”
“We all should have.” It was a grunt. Sam knew it was because Bobby was trying
to control his emotions. “Has he said any more? About ? I mean....how long
for?”
“I didn’t ask.” Sam responded. “I’ve pushed him too much. I don’t think he can
take much more, Bobby. All of this, with ....John. I don’t even want to call
him dad any more. And that witch and those three fucking evil bastards. And all
the times he must have gone out doing....God knows what to support us. I could
have done more, Bobby. Seen more. Taken it all for granted less. I knew we
didn’t have money but I still wanted. Never asked, not really asked where it
all came from.
Even when I came back, Bobby. Even when Jess died and I came back, it was
always Dean hustling, or doing,” he shook his head still in disbelief.
“whatever he was doing to pay for us both. It didn’t all come from credit card
scams! It was only when he got that terrible electric shock that nearly
destroyed his heart that I suddenly realised just how broke we, he, was. One
bag of possessions and a car, that’s all he has. He’s over thirty years old and
that’s all he has, Bobby! I should have been there to have his back, but I
wasn’t.”
He sighed. “I’ve got to let it go for the moment. I’m desperate to ask.
Desperate to know. But I’m worried that if I push any more then he’ll just
crack and I can’t risk that. Not now.”
Bobby studied him through half-closed eye-lids. “You think he might try to go
early to join that little girl of his, don’t you?”
“We’ve talked him down from the ledge before, Bobby.” Sam met his eyes straight
on. The other nodded as he remembered.
“So what do we do now? Just ignore it? Don’t broach the subject and let him
talk if he wants? You think he will?”
“Nope. But it’s the best I can hope for at the moment. No matter what, he’ll
take the blame and leave dad a saint.” The hatred in Sam’s voice broke Bobby’s
heart. Because he knew that he was right. But at least they both finally knew
the truth.
“I have to know, Bobby. I can’t leave it!” Sam suddenly blurted. “But I don’t
know how....”
“You and me both, Sam.” The older man assured him. “But for now, we leave the
subject alone. We have to leave him be.”
“I know Bobby, I know. But. I need you to know, that...I know what you think of
me. But I’m sorry I don’t care. He needs me. I’m not going to leave him, I’m
not. Not unless I know he’s happy with ....Cas....or someone.”
“Cas?” Now he had Bobby’s attention “The Angel? Are you kidding me?”
“That’s what Dean said. But. He was always happier when Cas was there. I used
to see him glance at Cas but I never realised.... And I definitely saw Cas
glance back. Somehow he’ll come back to us properly. He’ll come to Dean. I know
that Dean loves me, but he’s not in love with me, he’s just keeping me happy
because that’s what he does. But I’d like to see him happy, Bobby, even if it’s
not with me. He deserves that.” He dared to look the older man straight in the
eye. “I know this situation is screwed. We’re totally screwed up.“
Bobby snorted, “No argument from me there, boy. Fathers raping sons, brothers
raping brothers, brothers sleeping with brothers, who needs apocalypses?” Sam’s
face reddened. He could convince himself, but not this old man.
“I’m sorry, Bobby.”
“No.” It was Bobby’s turn to sigh. “No. I’m sorry. You two have always had an
abnormal bond, always have had. That’s what kept you alive, well kept you both
returning to life anyways. You both need each other and the world needs the
both of you. So. You just promise me that you’ll put your brother first this
time, okay? He deserves that. If he’s happy with you then I won’t say anymore.
But I’m telling you, warning you, to make him happy. If this is just about you
again, then walk away, Sam, let him alone.
Who knows, if he’s left alone for a while, he might just make that move on that
Angel! I can’t believe I just said that!” he groaned to himself. “God, I
thought I’d seen it all. I must be getting so old.”
He sighed, a heartfelt sigh. “Jodie has been calling and calling your phone,
she’s worried about him. And you.” He added. “If you’re good here, I’m going
to.....just try and recharge. I know what you mean about not leaving him alone
for a while, we’ll watch him between us.”
Sam nodded. “When you return, I’ll go and get us something to eat. He must be
as hungry as hell. We only managed to get him to drink some soup before he
zoned out completely, and that’s already three days ago now.”
“You must be too, son.”
“But at least I’ve managed to snatch something. And I ate properly during the
previous two. I wouldn’t let him.” He sighed. Another thing he had got so badly
wrong.
Bobby nodded, wished he could give Sam a consoling hug as well. He had never
felt the need for physical touch when he had a body, now that he didn’t he
regretted the lack of it every day.
Sam watched as he just eventually disappeared. He sighed and returned to inside
the cabin, making sure the door was secured behind him. He went straight into
the small room where Dean was to check on him. To his surprise, his brother was
awake.
“Hey.” Sam knelt down beside the bed. “I thought that would be you for the
night.” He leant up on his heels so he could give Dean a tender kiss.
“Nah.” Dean returned the kiss, putting his hand up to his brother’s long hair
and stroking it. “Slept enough. Too many things going round my head.”
Sam nodded, but didn’t speak. Instead he pulled the covers back and gently
slipped beneath them beside Dean, wriggling as close as he could and putting
his arms around him again, tucking his brother into below his arm like he would
have done with an upset child.
“Was that your cell ringing?”
“Yeah, Jodie again. I’ll call her later.”
Dean remained silent for a long moment. “Oh God. She was here too!” he suddenly
blurted. “Why was she here?”
“She turned up to check on us just as you escaped. Worst captive I’ve ever
met!” He tried to make a joke, but there was no returning smile on Dean’s face.
If anything he just looked more upset.
“Was she there the whole time?”
Sam bit his lip. “Yeah.”
“Fuck.”
Dean looked like he might cry again but struggled with his fraught emotions and
kept them under control. Sam sighed and pulled him even closer to him and
rubbed his lips against the top of Dean’s soft haired head, trying to convey
without words how terrified he’d been that Dean might never wake up and how
sick he felt at all the things that he had suffered without Sam ever knowing.
His brother’s long silence unnerved him, but he waited and just hoped that he
would be okay. He wished he could make him smile again. He didn’t see how he
ever could, or how he had ever, ever managed to before. Not with all this
buried in his soul.
“I’m grateful she was here.” He finally couldn’t stay quiet any more. “It was
Jodie who realised the truth. I. I’m stunned, Dean. I honestly had no idea. I
just wish you could have told me.”
Dean didn’t respond, but Sam could feel his body tense against his side. This
was a conversation he did not want at all. It took a long moment for him to
build himself up enough to reply.
“Some things are best unsaid, Sam. They don’t matter. Over and done with.”
“No.” Sam tried to keep himself calm and under control: it wasn’t only the
witch that he had been imagining beating to a bloody pulp when Dean had woken
up previously. “It fucking does matter, Dean. Because you matter. That
bastard…..what he did. It does matter.” He could feel himself shaking with
rage. He knew his brother could feel it as well.
“Leave it alone, Sam. It’s gone now.”
He couldn’t help himself, he wanted to scream and yell and hit someone with
extreme prejudiced violence. But not his brother. Never his brother.
“It’s not gone, Dean. It will never be gone. I will never think of him again
without thinking of what he did. That monster should never have touched you.
The bastard raped you Dean! He….”
“It wasn’t rape. He just missed mom.” Sam felt his temper hit boiling point.
How could Dean still be defending their father? “He said I had her eyes. Don’t
think of it as rape. Well... No. Not rape.”
“For fucks...!” Sam couldn’t help himself: he all but threw himself out of the
bed and began pacing the floor of the small room.
Dean sat up in the bed and watched him carefully. Sam had his hands balled into
fists by his sides, his face was as dark and as terrifying as his elder brother
could ever remember seeing it. He sighed, he just wanted this all to stop.
“Sam. Please. You know now. Let it go.”
“Why did you pause?”
“What?”
“Just then. Why did you pause? You started to say something, then clammed up
again like you always do. What is it, Dean. Tell me. Please. Just tell me all
the truth, now. No point in trying to hide it any longer.”
“Sam. I...”
His younger brother stopped walking around the room. He instead stood and leant
against the wall by the small curtained window and took a deep, visible breath
in. “I’m calm now, Dean. Please just tell me. You say it started when you were
‘bout eight’. When did it finish? When was the last time he did that to you?”
He noticed the flinch. Noticed the pain in Dean’s eyes just for an instant
before it was hidden again. Knew he had to keep pushing.
“It don’t matter.”
Sam turned away to the small window and pulled back the curtain to look out for
a few minutes. Perhaps it might be easier on his brother if he couldn’t see his
face.
“I remember a big fight you had, I must have been about nine. When you said you
weren’t going outside with him anymore. Was that what it was about? Was that
when you stood up to him and finally said ‘enough’? Was that the end of it?”
“Yeah, that was pretty much it.”
Sam bit down his frustration. “Dean. Please. Just tell me.” Carefully he turned
back to watch Dean as he tried to think of a different way of asking, of posing
the question in a way that Dean couldn’t just avoid.
“Was there any time that you do think of as rape?”
His anger resurfaced inside him as Dean’s green eyes suddenly swam with tears
again. “Dean? Was that why you paused? When did he rape you? Please tell me.”
He forced himself to remain where he was as Dean slowly began to move back on
the bed, little by little inching backwards until he had hit the headboard at
the top of it. Sam was reminded of that position he had first seen his brother
in after he had raped him those few months ago, huddled against the wall in the
motel room. Now as they talked, Dean slowly curled in on himself, protecting
his body with his arms and suddenly seeming so small and vulnerable.
“Dean?”
“It was only once.” Oh god, his brother’s voice was so raw. “But....”
“Tell me.” Carefully Sam slid his body down to squat against the wall where he
had been leaning. He wanted so desperately to cross back across the room, but
knew if he stopped Dean from talking by trying to comfort him, then the chance
would be gone and probably never reoccur. He waited.
Not patiently, but he waited.
“You’re right about that fight.” Dean finally whispered. “He left me alone
after that. Plus he already had other interests by then: Adam and his mum for a
start. But then I screwed up. I really screwed up. And he was so angry. Dad was
so angry. I deserved it. I know I deserved it. But he hurt me every bit as bad
as those men. Hurt as bad as in Hell. He was so angry at me.”
“Why? What had you done?”
Dean looked at him, the tears beginning to fall again.
“Dean? What had you done?”
His brother couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face him. He could barely hear the
words as Dean whispered them to his feet. “It was on my watch.”
And Sam had heard those words before. In Heaven, when he had relived one of his
favourite memories of running away and just being normal. Ironically the trip
to Washington had been the start of that: the desire to be ‘normal’. To be
safe. He had noticed the expression on Dean’s face when he had realised what
that memory was, but had, even then, never asked. Not really.
“When dad found me he gave me the biggest hug he’d ever done. Then he grounded
me for a month, I thought I’d got away with it. I never dreamt…. You never even
got out of the car to greet me. I thought you were just pissy with me. You were
pissy at me for weeks.”
The tears ran harder down his brother’s cheeks. “He broke four of my ribs. My
left lung collapsed. And he hurt me so bad. He was so angry he used it as a
punishment. Really tore.... I couldn’t have got out of that car if I’d tried,
but he’d told me to damn well stay there.”
“Oh God, Dean. I didn’t know.”
“Happiest two weeks of your life. I saw. But it was on my watch.”
“Dean. I....”
“I don’t want to talk about this no more. Sammy, please don’t make me talk
about this no more.”
Sam looked at his brother. Really looked at him. And for the first time he saw
him properly. Not as the loud, fast-talking, confident persona that he always
conveyed. Not even as the really beautiful man that he had become. But as the
frightened little boy who had been all but destroyed by all the evil in his
life, the worst of which had come directly from inside his own family.
Carefully Sam stood up and began to cross to him, but stopped when he saw Dean
huddle down into himself more.
“I’d never hurt you again, Dean. I’m not dad.”
Dean gave a tiny sad snort. “That’s what he would say. That’s what he’d always
say, that he’d never do it again. You’re just like him.”
“I’m nothing like him!”
“Yeah you are. You were always locking horns because you are. With me in the
middle getting caught in the crossfire. You both just took what you wanted.”
The sudden clarity with which he was talking took his younger brother’s breath
away.
“I’m nothing like him!” Sam was shaking at the accusation. “He should never
have done that to you. He was a monster!”
Dean stared at him suddenly, completely calm. It was that that unnerved Sam
more than anything else. “For doing that to me? If that’s the case, what are
you, Sam?”
Sam had to turn away. He slammed his fisted hand against the wall a couple of
times then stood and looked out at the trees beyond as he tried to get himself
under control. He stood a long time. Because Dean was right. And he knew he was
right. And he hated that he was right.
But then in the glass of the window he could see the reflection of how his
brother was sitting on that bed, all hunched up, looking lost, and mentally
collapsing into that terrible place inside himself where Dean Winchester
flushed all the bad things of his life. And Sam suddenly realised that this
might well be the time he finally drowned in it if Sam didn’t get his own head
out of his ass and do something to pull him back.Anything to shock him out of
it. Now, right now, Sam.
Move!
Now!
Quickly, decisively, Sam reclosed the curtains and turned to face the bed that
his brother was huddled on. “Are you afraid of me? I want the truth, Dean. Are
you scared of me?”
Dean thought, but only for a moment. “No, Sam. I didn’t mean that just then. I
trust you. And I know you won’t do anything like that again. It’s just,
sometimes, memories...you know?”
“I know.” Sam was striding across to him, removing his t-shirt on route. Dean’s
eyebrows rose in surprise, but he forced himself not to flinch as Sam climbed
right onto the bed, pulled him physically down it and clamboured on top of him.
He sought out Dean’s mouth with some urgency and kissed him hard and
passionately.
Finally he pulled away and raised himself up so he could look down into his
brother’s green eyes. “I will never hurt you again. But I’m going to ask you a
question and I want an honest answer.”
“Okay.” Dean replied hesitantly. He mentally braced himself ready for forever
it was.
Sam smiled, a dirty lust-filled smile, and leant to kiss him again just
briefly. Then, with his mouth right on his brother’s he whispered: “Tell me dad
made you moan with pleasure like I do, and I’ll admit that I’m a little like
him.”
Dean caught his breath beneath him and almost choked: “Sam?”
“Did he, Dean? Did you moan for him like you do when I’m inside you?” As Sam
was saying this, he was grinding his groin into his brother’s and despite
himself, Dean did moan and arched his back for more. “So did you?”
He waited for Dean to recover enough to return his gaze. Hoped against hope
that he would. He was relieved when he shyly smiled, shook his head and reached
up to put his arms around his brother’s naked back and shoulders.
“He. I loved the man, Sam. I always will. I know you don’t understand that.
But. He wasdad!”
He looked away for a long moment. “You’ve heard my worst ever day
yesterday….whenever it was. Well, dad was definitely my second worst, and all
my third worst days rolled into one when he was in that mood. But I don’t want
you to hate him. It don’t matter. As long as he never came after you….”
“Oh Dean,” Sam felt tears prickle at his eyelids again. “Did he ever threaten
that?” He already knew the answer, he hadn’t really needed to ask. He knew Dean
would do anything, had done anything to protect him, even as a little boy. And
their father would have known that as well. “I know how much you love him. I
hate him, but I love him! But I wish you could have told me.”
“Some things aren’t for sharing, Sammy. You just forget it. Just remember him
as your dad.”
He looked back up at his brother in surprise as he felt the warm teardrops
falling onto his face. Gently he moved his fingers up to Sam’s face to wipe
them away.
“Dean.” Sam was hugging him, holding him so tight and kissing him again. “This
is why your soul shines so bright, brighter than everyone’s. Because you can
forgive the unforgivable!”
But I can’t, he added to himself. And I never, never will.
He kissed him again and to his relief felt Dean respond. He still wanted this.
He couldn’t have blamed Dean if he hadn’t, not after everything. And he knew
his brother desperately needed help and would do for a long time to come: Sam
was going to look into getting him into therapy as soon as they had solved this
latest ‘end-of-the-world’ problem, even if it meant him having to force him
there at gunpoint. In the meantime he would look up self help on the internet.
But for now they had this. And if it meant Dean would let Sam hold him safely
in his arms and tell him how he loved him, then Sam would do this as much and
as often as his brother would allow him.
The kiss gradually became more passionate as their mouths explored each other’s
in what had now become an accustomed ritual. Both were breathless when they
finally broke for air.
“You do want this?” Sam felt he had to check. He would ask every time. It was
more important to him than ever now. Dean nodded and reached for his mouth
again.
Sam kissed him briefly this time and pulled away. “I love you.” He told him.
“As a brother and as a lover. I’m sorry if that’s wrong. And I’m so sorry I
hurt you. And I’ll never forgive myself for leaving you. But I’m not sorry that
we’re like this, as long as you want this as well. If not, just say. I’ll never
touch you again. I just need to check you’re with me willingly. That this is
okay with you as well.”
He didn’t get to say anything else as Dean pulled his mouth down to his own
again and finally twisted to roll Sam beneath his own strong but smaller body
and began kissing him with an intensity that was going to bruise both their
mouths. Sam sighed with pleasure and desire as he felt his brother’s hands
begin to caress and stroke his torso. Then the kiss was broken as Dean began to
explore him with his mouth as well, slowly but surely working his down towards
Sam’s large erection waiting for him beneath his jeans.
“Oh God, Dean.” It was all he could say as he was stripped of the last of his
clothes and his brother’s mouth closed around his cock. “I want you so much.
Always have. But you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’d never make
you. I just got to be sure you’re with me cos you want to….”
His words were cut off as Dean glanced up at him, his eyes glinting like
emeralds through the thick lashes, and suddenly deepthroated his entire cock
while somehow wrapping his tongue around the thick shaft and humming deep
inside his throat. Sam came with a roar inside his mouth and felt tears prickle
his eyes again, but from the intensity of his climax this time rather than the
previous emotions of that day. He could barely breathe as his heart pounded
inside his chest and his cock throbbed and pulsed deep inside his brother's
warm, moist orifice.
Dean licked and swallowed every last bit before moving to lay down beside him
again. “Sam. I do want this. I shouldn’t but I do.” He paused as his thoughts
turned elsewhere. Sam watched him and just waited: he could see his brother was
trying to think through his next words. “Dad just missed mom, that’s all.
You’re nothing like him. Forget about it. I have.” But he didn’t meet Sam’s
eyes as he said this to the mattress.
Sam’s heart broke for the umpteenth time that day and he reached out to his
brother to pull him into his arms, closing in on his mouth with his own once
more. With a gentle push he moved Dean onto his back and straddled him with his
legs, lying on top of his body. He never wanted to leave his lips, more so
because he knew Dean had been right before. He was just like his dad. Too much.
Especially in how they had both treated Dean so badly. And he had forgiven them
both. He was definitely the best of the Winchester’s. Sam just wanted to tell
him in every way how much he loved him and how sorry he was, and how he never
wanted to be without him.
They kissed for a long time, just enjoying each other. Then Sam pulled away.
“Dean? Will you fuck me? Please?”
Dean nodded, his expression slightly glazed. He held up his hand and extended
his fingers. “You sucking or am I?”
“No.” Sam told him as he got up from the bed, again fully erect, and fetched
the lubricant from his bag. “I just want you in me.”
“But….”
“No.” Sam began to strip the clothes from his brother, disposing of his jeans
and boxers on the floor and allowing Dean’s own cock to bounce up once
unrestrained. He knelt and licked it gently. Dean moaned. “I want you to let
yourself loose. Don’t hold back. I know you do: you try to be so gentle with
me. But I want to not be able to walk for a week, let alone not be able to sit
down. I want you to mark me as yours. I can take it. I want to take it. Please.
Just relax and make me yours.”
“I wouldn’t hurt you, Sammy.”
“I know you wouldn't. But I want you to. Make me yours, Dean. Please. I can
take it.”
He had overdone the licking because he was talking and not concentrating. Dean
began to gasp and moan as Sam’s mouth brought him too close to a climax. Sam
chuckled. “Now who can’t last?”
He bent over his brother, sucked as much of his long thick cock into his mouth
as he could, wishing that he could pleasure his brother by getting it into his
throat as Dean so expertly could do for himself, and suckled and licked for as
long as he could manage. Dean clutched at his hair and cried his name as he
came. Sam held him in his mouth as long as he could before he choked and had to
let him go as Dean sprayed over them both.
“Sorry.” Dean apologised, and reached to pull him into his arms, but Sam
knocked his hand away and instead returned his mouth to his softened cock to
begin him all over again. “Sam?”
“Told you I wanted you in me!” Sam worked on him for a few minutes until he
heard Dean begin to gasp again, then handed him the lube. “Slick yourself. Oh
god, Dean, I want you in me.”
Dean did as he was told. He never took his eyes from Sam as he did, then put
the lube aside on the table and lay back. “Come and sit on my face, let me open
you up.”
Sam couldn’t resist. He nodded, crawled up the bed to kneel straddling his
brother’s head. He almost lost control himself as that soft, warm long tongue
entered him without hesitation. It would be somewhere near the top of his list
of favourite parts of Dean’s body and what his brother could do to him with it
would be x-rated content in any context.
Then as he felt his own cock tighten and himself begin to moan, he hastily
forced himself off Dean’s face and slid down to sit astride his waist instead.
Before his brother could raise another worry, he reached behind him to take
hold of his lubricated cock and carefully guided himself into position before
beginning to lower himself down. Dean helped by holding his thighs as he worked
himself onto his cock and it gradually entered his body.
“Oh God.” He was in ecstacy.
“Am I hurting you?” He smiled at his brother’s concern.
“No. You belong in me. You really do. Fuck us being created to be vessels for
the Angels: I was created to be this for you!”
He sighed as he kept carefully pushing down until he was fully seated on Dean’s
long, slicked cock. He took a moment to pause while he just got used to the
sensations running through him and realised he had only pushed his brother’s t-
shirt up around his nipples and not removed it for him completely. He lent
forward and remedied that by pulling it off over his head.
Then he stared. Miss Susie had done as she had said and returned all Dean’s old
scars. There was ‘his’ burn on his brother’s chest, just below his left
shoulder. Sam stared at it as the memories of that day vividly ran through his
head. For the first time he realised that that event, of being in the clutches
of those psychotic human monsters who had tortured him for fun, must have
brought back terrible memories for Dean. And Sam hadn’t even noticed. But the
witch had been correct: that was the first time, besides the electric shock
that had nearly taken his brother from him in one second of terror, that he had
really, truly realised just how much he loved Dean, and how lost he would be
without him.
He reached to touch the scar, only half focusing on the others around it and
lower: marks of claws, and slashes, and stabs, and the occasional bullet hole.
All things that he had heard Dean comment more than once that he felt naked
without: all wiped away by Castiel who probably would have wondered at the
sentimentality of such things collected over the course of a violent life. But
these were the mementoes that mattered: they told the story of Dean Winchester.
Better than any book ever would.
He became aware of his brother watching him through half-lowered lashes and he
knew that he understood completely. Sam all but doubled himself in two to get
his mouth to ‘his’ burn mark, licking and caressing it with his lips, getting
to know its contours and feel. Dean helped by sitting up beneath him and
arching his body so he could worship it easier, and also that he could begin to
thrust into Sam as his desire got too much to hold off any longer. Sam promised
himself that the first chance he got, he would lie Dean down and just take his
time, and his hands and his lips and his tongue, to fully explore and map his
brother’s body afresh. He wanted to know every single inch of it with every
single inch of himself.
But for now, his own lust was taking over and he leant over and kissed Dean as
hard as he could on his mouth worshipping his lips and tongue, while savouring
what he was doing with his cock inside him.
Dean broke the kiss and whispered in his ear. “Do you really want it hard?”
“Oh fuck, yes. Let yourself go and really pound into me. I can take it. I want
to.”
And with his permission, Dean was sliding his hands beneath Sam’s thighs and
getting up off the bed. Sam nearly stopped breathing in bliss as his own
weight, with him being fully impaled on his brother, opened him even deeper
than he ever had been before. He wrapped his arms around his brother as he was
carried to the nearest wall.
Sam was expecting his back to be slammed against it, but instead Dean stopped a
couple of foot away. “Lean back.” He noticed Sam’s slight hesitation. “Trust me
and lean back. I won’t let you fall.”
“I always trust you.” Sam responded and he released his tight grip on his
brother’s shoulders and leant back, shivering with anticipation as he felt the
smooth cold wall behind him. Dean took a moment, adjusted his position minutely
and expertly, and began to thrust. Slowly at first, but then building up a
rhythm that was ripping moans from Sam’s mouth. His full weight was on Dean’s
cock, supported only by his strong arms and the slightest bit from the wall
which was mostly being used so he could get the angle correct for Sam.
And he had. Every thrust was hitting Sam’s prostrate as it buried deep inside
him. He felt it hurt in the best way he had ever known: he knew he was going to
feel it for days after and he was loving it. “Oh shit, Dean, don’t stop! Don’t
you dare stop!”
“Ain’t going to. You said you wanted this! Now you’re gonna get it!”
Dean didn’t pause at all as he grunted the words at him, and he upped the speed
of the rhythm even more. Sam lost the ability to speak, the only noises he
could make were animal, even if Bobby had returned to the cabin at that moment
he knew that they were past stopping, and way past caring.
He could feel Dean’s body beading with sweat, he could see it drip off his
forehead and feel it around his shoulders where Sam was still resting his
hands. He must have been getting tired, but he didn’t falter in his rhythm at
all. Not even when Sam shouted his throat sore and came all over him. Dean just
kept going. Until Sam’s cock was hard again somehow and all his limbs were
shivering and trembling from the force of his first come and he could feel the
anticipation of an even larger one building inside him, and his vision was
actually beginning to white out.
Only then did Dean suddenly pull Sam’s body down onto him physically as he gave
one final massive, intense thrust up inside his brother. Sam cried out as he
felt white hot come fill every single part of his insides as his big brother
climaxed with a growl and the intense throbbing of his cock marked his position
up deep inside Sam’s body. It triggered yet another massive orgasm for Sam who
would later wonder if he had briefly lost consciousness at the intensity of it:
his cock certainly would be as tender as his ass for days after.
Finally Dean pushed him against the wall out of need for its support as he
tried to catch his breath. He was still standing upright with his brother
wrapped around him. Sam didn’t know how he could. “Do you want me to get down?”
Even those few words were an effort to say, he was so exhausted.
“Nah. Just hold tight.”
“Thank God,” Sam told him. “I don’t think I could even walk to the bed at the
moment.”
Dean laughed. Sam wrapped his long shaky limbs around him and was carried like
a sleepy child back to the bed. Dean placed him down as carefully on the bed as
he always had when Sam was in his arms when he was little, Sam felt himself
snigger at the comparison of then and now, and then and only then did Dean
finally pull out of him and simply collapse on the bed by his side.
They both lay and gasped for breath for a few minutes. Then Sam became aware of
Dean shivering and hastily grabbed at the blankets to cover him up. His brother
laughed again at his wince as he moved. It was music to Sam’s ears. He snuggled
into Dean’s side, pulling his arm around him and laid his own arm across his
chest. He wished he could dare go to sleep, safe and sated in Dean’s arms.
“That was fantastic.”
He felt his brother snort. “Well, I suppose the one advantage of you knowing
what a sick and fucked-up bastard I am is that at least I can show you how I
sometimes like sex. But say if it’s not okay.”
“Dean, that was more than okay! Anything you ever want to do to me, just do it!
I’m yours to do it to. I really am!” Sam paused, wondered if he dare say his
next thoughts.
“Have you ever? I mean….When this is over. When we’ve destroyed the leviathans.
What would you think about us leaving this life? Finding somewhere to live
where no one knows us. Where no one will ever know. We’ll buy rings, just let
everyone assume I’ve taken your name. Just live as a couple.”
Dean didn’t respond but his eyes glinted green as he listened. Sam took courage
from his silence. “You can find a job as a mechanic. Or….. what did you want to
be? If it weren’t for dad. I mean…. Not what he did. But how he brought us up.
What was your dream?”
To his surprise Dean didn’t even have to think. “A cook of some sort. I.” He
stopped, Sam sighed as he knew his brother was embarassed for just simply
admitting something that everyone else took for granted: that he had had dreams
of his own. He nudged him in encouragement, and held him tighter. Dean
struggled on with his words. “When I was with Lisa, I cooked most of the meals.
I really enjoyed it. And I’m ….good at it.”
“Macaroni cheese with marshmallows?”
“Nothing so exotic. But I can make a mean lasagne. And lamb rogan josh. And
lots of different sorts of pie!”
Sam smiled at him. “Somewhere with a kitchen for you then. And I can…” He came
to a pause himself as he couldn’t think of anything. “And I don’t know what I
can do. I had to get a job as a bus-boy! I. I’ll have to become a kept woman
and meet you at the door with a martini and wearing nothing but a smile!”
He smiled suggestively at his brother who snorted. “You’re so insatiable, you’d
just greet me with a collar and lead and use me as your sex-slave every night!”
Sam’s hopes rose: could Dean be really thinking about it?
Then they were immediately dashed. His brother sighed and shook his head.
“Could never happen, Sam. If there’s one thing I’ve come to realise, it’s that
we can run as far as we can from this job, but it will always follow us. We’re
like magnets for evil, you and me. Well. Me anyway. Perhaps you’d have a
chance.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“No, it’s not. I know how I’ll die. I’ve led a violent life: I’ll have a
violent death. But. If I go first, you try. You try and escape it. Try and be
normal. Don’t look back.”
“You’re being stupid!” Sam was angry at him. “That’s not going to happen. And
I’m not going to leave you!”
“You may not have a choice.” Dean calmly pointed out. “I’m sorry I dragged you
back into this life: I should never have come to get you.”
“I was surrounded by demons! My so-called best friend was a demon! You saved
me!”
“I wish we could have protected you from all this.” Sam’s temper rose even
further as he realised that Dean was referring to himself and their father,
their abusive son-of-a-bitch father.
“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare! This, your whole life, is my fault! No, it’s
mom’s fault! And dad’s! And if you ever. Ever. Leave me. Then I will find you
and drag you back kicking and screaming back into my life! No matter where you
are!”
Dean glanced down his chest at him, but said nothing. He could see how angry
Sam was at him and was sorry he had spoilt the intimate mood. He bit his lip.
“I’m sorry Sam. I’m just saying. All that matters to me is that you’re happy. I
just want you to be happy. And you’re not happy doing this life: I know that.”
“I’m happy with you, you asshole! I’ll go anywhere with you! I’ll do anything
with you! And don’t you dare try and leave me! Not until you’re old and really
ugly!” He all but pounced on his brother, kissing him with a desperation born
of his anger and his love: a love that Dean just couldn’t seem to accept was
true and completely, totally, unashamedly for him. To his amazement he felt
aroused again just from tasting him. He pulled his mouth away from Dean’s and
growled at him. “I am going to get through to you that you are my first choice!
You have always been my first choice! I don’t know how I’m going to get that
through to you, but I am damn well going to keep trying if it’s the last thing
I ever do.”
He kissed him again and felt his brother respond beneath him. “I love you.
Really, truly, deeply. And whatever happens, we’re in this together. If it has
to be as Hunters then that’s what we’ll be. I’m just trying to say that it’s
not wrong to allow ourselves to dream. As long as we share the dream.”
His anger had all but dissipated. Just looking into those gleaming, meadow
green eyes calmed him like nothing else never had and nothing else ever would.
He bent to taste his brother’s mouth again and they shared another passionate,
genuine, long kiss.
It was all too soon that Sam sighed. “I better get up. Bobby will probably be
appearing abruptly and scaring the shit out of me again soon. You must be
starving: what would you like to eat?”
“Anything’s good.”
“Okay. I’ll just grab a shower. You get some sleep if you want.”
“Nah. I’ll get up.”
Sam smiled and caught his mouth for one last kiss. He grabbed some clean
clothes out of his bag and went to leave the room.
He was nearly out of the door when Dean asked: “Bobby. He. All those things he
said. About us?”
“You don’t have to worry about him, Dean. Or ever feel guilty, He blames me,
says I corrupted you. But it’s okay. Him and me’s okay. So you’re not to worry
about it.”
He sighed at Dean’s wide eyes, but made himself leave the room. If Bobby did
return now and caught them both naked then it would be a more awkward
conversation than the one his brother was envisaging. Far more awkward! Better
the old man never see them like that. Oh god, Sam hoped he’d never see them
like that. At least Bobby had never come into the bedroom unless asked to.
He had some fresh coffee made by the time Dean came into the main room, having
also showered. He watched how Sam was walking and couldn’t hide his grin. Sam
made a face at him and brought over a sandwich.
“What’s in it?”
“Shut up and eat it, jerk!”
“Watch it, bitch!”
“Mind if I work?” Sam reached for his laptop.
Dean shook his head. “I’ll get mine in a minute. I’ll just finish this first.”
He settled himself on the sofa that he had been chained to just three days
previously. Sam watched him in the increasing gloom of twilight: he was still
worried that his brother looked exhausted but he said nothing. He just removed
himself to the other chair and began their normal routine of seeking out the
abnormal in an unbelieving world.
After a while he glanced up. “This might be something….”
He stopped as he realised that Dean had finally fallen properly asleep for the
first time in far too long, his hands still cradling his drink. Sam smiled at
the sight and felt so much love in his heart as he carefully removed the half-
full mug, lucky he hadn’t spilt it over himself, and went to get a blanket and
pillow to try and settle him more comfortably. He wondered idly as he did what
Dean was dreaming about as he had a large smile on his face.
*   *   *   *   *   *
Inside his head Dean had no idea where he was and he didn’t care. He had
suddenly become aware while sitting on the sofa of being pulled through
something, he wasn’t sure what but it was bright and hurt his eyes with a
bluey-green light that seemed familiar and then he was somewhere else.
Somewhere he didn’t recognise but did. A place that looked like the interior of
a cabin, but an old one. Centuries old. With a roaring fire that had a pot of
game stew bubbling away above it that smelt wonderful and made his stomach
rumble and he knew he had smelt the rich meaty smell somewhere before. And
there were other smells as well: of herbs and flowers and rich concoctions of
numerous potions. And there were old bottles of different coloured glass that
shone internally from the powerful magic contained within them casting
different lights and glows around the small room as well as small man-made
earthernware containers of ointments and other things that he couldn’t imagine.
And none of it mattered because within a second of him arriving there he had
heard a squeal of “Daddy! Daddy! No, you can’t be here yet! I’m so sorry,
daddy. You can’t be dead! Oh daddy!” and he had turned in time to catch his
daughter as she had hurled herself at him and burst into floods of tears, And
he had held her tight, knowing without question that this was somehow real and
he was somehow there with her. Not a dream. Not death. Something else. And he
knew that he loved his daughter and from her reaction he knew she loved him as
well. They had met so briefly in life but the father/daughter bond had been
instantaneous and deep, and was never going to be broken. Not by anyone.
And as Emma’s tears had subsided, and he could dare to release her enough to
wipe her face with his sleeve and laugh at her snotty nose and she had
recovered enough to roll her eyes at him and cry all over again, he was finally
able to look at the other occupant of the room. He held his hand out to her.
“I take it this is your doing, Miss Susie?”
“Hey boy.”
She moved across to him and accepted the one-armed embrace that he was
offering, his left arm still tight around his daughter. She looked like she
should have done in life: stunningly beautiful, younger than Emma in appearance
but definitely a woman, pure black hair, deep dark eyes. All marks and scars
and mutilations were now gone without trace.
But her voice was still the one that the others had heard in the cabin. It was
still the one that had sent shivers of something unworldly through Dean’s body
the first time he had heard it all those years before. A voice of knowledge
from generations of her ilk, all drawn to and contained into the one body: a
voice that told him that he was in the presence of something incredibly
powerful, something that his Hunter instinct told him he should be very, very
afraid of, and yet a something that was an almost innate part of him, had
become a part of him since he had helped Miss Susie to find peace. Something
that he instinctively knew with every single bone in his body he need never
fear. Because it belonged to him, and he belonged to her.
She moved easily into his ready arm: Emma also turned and held out her left arm
and they shared a three-way embrace. “We had enough of waiting, boy. Your girl
needed her daddy. Too much time was a wasting, time you should be sharing.”
“You did this, Miss Susie?” Emma was staring at her in awe. “He’s not dead,
then?”
“Nah, Chile. It took me a long time for all my powers to collect. Had to wait
for the last of my kind to die first. Had to learn how to use them. Start from
scratch as it were. But your daddy’s here now. He can come and go as he wants.
We don’t have to wait for him to finish his life before he comes home to us.
And we can help him if he needs us.”
“But how?”
“There’s always ways into everywhere, Chile. Secret ways, if you know how to
make them. Even into Heaven itself. Sorry I hurt you doing it, boy.”
“It don’t matter, Miss Susie.” He meant it. “I’m glad you did. If it means I
get to see you both.”
“And we get to see you, boy. But I can’t call you boy anymore.” She was tall
enough to stare directly into his eyes: deep, dark, almost black irises meeting
soft, intense green. “Dean. My Dean. Mine. And my Emma,” she added quickly with
a glance at the other young woman in the room. “My family.”
She couldn’t help herself and leant forward to kiss his lips with hers,
brushing against them softly. He could feel her warm breath against his face,
the tip of her tongue daring to take its first taste of him.
“Welcome home. My Dean.”
And he knew he was.
*   *   *   *   *   *
Sam had returned to sit and wait on the outside steps when Bobby finally
rematerialised. The night was warm and it had been pleasant sitting listening
to the sounds of the night and glimpsing the stars through the trees. Bobby was
there suddenly beside him.
“How is he?”
“He tried to get up but he fell asleep again on the sofa in there. Bobby?
I….Look. When you said what you said earlier, about perhaps understanding why
we… Can you tell him that? He’s still worried you hate him. He...Just…Please.”
“I intend to, boy. I know none of this is his doing. You and your daddy screwed
him up totally between you. You say he’s asleep again?”
“Properly for once. First time for too long.”
“We’ll get him something for when he wakes up then.” Bobby headed into the
cabin without looking back.
Sam sighed and followed. He closed the outer door as quietly as he could and
secured it. Turning round he realised that the older man was kneeling quietly
beside his brother, just checking for himself that he was really only asleep
this time. He glanced up and met Sam’s watchful look with a relieved nod. Sam
understood. No matter what he had done and what Bobby really thought or said to
him, they both shared a deep love for his brother that would always give them
common ground.
Bobby crossed to the small kitchenette. “Looks like an angel when he’s asleep,
don’t he?”
Sam agreed, then tried not to smirk as memories of that afternoon entered his
head. Little did Bobby realise what a truly disgracefully bad devil Dean could
be! He hastily put the thoughts aside as his groin area let him down by showing
a lot of interest as well. Instead he concentrated on the email he had found on
his laptop.
“Someone is trying to break into Frank’s hard drive, He must have rigged it to
warn us, and he’s connected it to a GPS tracker. We know where Dick Roman is!
Or at least the hard drive. I’ll show you the details.”
“You think the sleeping beauty’s up to it?” Bobby motioned at the sofa.
“I think he won’t be wanting to hang around here. You know what he’s like. He’s
going to be uncomfortable enough around you, let alone running the risk of
seeing Jodie again for a while.”
Bobby snorted. “I get you, boy. Okay show me what you’ve got. And let’s hope
that we can find Frank’s hard drive in time before that bastard Roman uses it
to find us! It’s about time we started to win against these things. Did Dean…?
Has he said any more about….?”
Sam didn’t have to ask what he meant. “Let me grab some more coffee, I’ll get
my laptop and we’ll sit and work this out, and I’ll tell you what he said while
you were out. And then we’ll never ask him about it again.” And this time he
really thought he meant it.
“We are going to beat these things, Bobby. We’ll find a way, we always do. It’s
all going to work out okay. As long as I’ve got you and Dean. It’s going to be
okay.”
“I know, boy. It’s all going to be fine. You just wait and see.”
***** Epilogue *****
As they were getting ready for the long drive, Dean’s phone beeped with a text.
He had left it on the table while he was packing his bag so Sam picked it up
and read it for him.
I. You free anytime next two weeks? F.
“This mean anything to you?”
Dean glanced at the message. “It’s nothing.”
“What is it? Who’s ‘F’?”
Dean watched his face carefully as he replied. “You remember that man a few
months ago? Where I kissed you outside the bar because he was putting you
down?”
“Him? How did he get your number?”
“I called him. When you left after Amy. We had a good time.”
“Oh.” Sam digested this information. “Why ‘F’? That wasn’t his name.”
“Make of his sportscar.”
“Oh. Was the car a good ride?”
“No back seat. He agreed my Baby was far more useful in that respect.”
“Oh. You seeing him again?”
“No plans to.”
Dean waited. He had been honest and open, just like Sam wanted him to be. But
he already knew Sam’s jealousy by now as well. “We going to do this, then?”
“It can wait a couple of hours. Go and get your forties suit on.”
“Excuse me?”
“The suit you returned from the 1940s in. And the coat. Put it on.”
Dean paused. “The hat as well?”
The original had got left behind as he had been pulled back to their own time:
he had been really disappointed. He was amazed when Sam had been as well. Not
to mention Jodie, who had insisted on finding a replacement on condition she
could have a photograph of him wearing the complete outfit. But he doubted that
seeing him dressed so smart had the same effect of the sheriff as it seemed to
have on his brother. He hoped not anyway. Not that he ever got to wear any of
it for very long once Sam saw him in it.
“The hat as well.”
“Hadn’t we better get going?”
“This Alpha Vampire thing can wait a couple of hours. Go and get changed,
Dean.”
There was that voice. Dean wasn’t quite sure when Sam had started to use that
voice. It had just evolved during the last few months in the same way that
their relationship had done. But he knew what it did to him when Sam used that
voice: all the blood in his body went rushing south without a single drop of it
taking a detour. He wasn’t sure if he could disobey that voice, although to be
honest he had never tried. Yet. Perhaps one day he would, just to find out what
would happen....
But not today. Not now. He hurried to find his smart suit and get changed.
As he had predicted he didn’t get to keep it on for very long.
Sam had made him stand in the room, just stand and wait while his brother
walked around him, drinking in the view; brushing a stray long Sam-coloured
hair off the collar; running his long fingers gently down Dean’s woollened
back. Dean was almost getting embarrassed when Sam had finally, finally, moved
to stand directly in front of him, removed the trilby from his head and placed
it on his own.
Dean was just about to tell him that it didn’t look right at all with that long
hair when Sam had moved in, and then Dean didn’t care about the hat.
That had been an hour ago and now they were both naked in the bed, their arms
tight around each other, Dean slightly lower with his head against the top of
Sam’s chest, the top of it just nestling beneath Sam’s chin as if made to fit
there. Sam could feel the softness of his hair against his skin and tightened
his arms even more in appreciation.
“You think you will be seeing that bloke again?”
“Not when I’ve got this. Not when I’ve got you.” Dean hadn’t had to ask what
his brother meant, he knew it had been on his mind ever since he had seen the
text.
If it were possible, Sam held him even closer. “You always will. As long as you
want me as well, I’ll always be here. Even if you don’t, I’ll still be here.”
It was a whisper, but as clear as a shout to his brother. Dean smiled and
snuggled in closer.
“I lied to you.” Sam suddenly blurted. “I said I would step back if Cas
returned. I lied. I love you. I want you. I can’t let you go.” The anguish in
his voice was palpable, Dean sighed and turned his head enough that he could
see Sam’s face, then wriggled up to kiss him.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know how you feel about Cas. You can hide it from yourself but not from me.”
“He betrayed me. He betrayedus. And. We’ve never had this before. So don’t you
worry about Cas. I’m not going anywhere, Sam. Besides,” he added as he lay back
down with his face now beside his brother’s head on the pillow: “he’s an Angel!
Out of my league anyway.”
Sam wanted to argue, to tell him thathe was out of Castiel’s league. But he
didn’t. Because he was selfish and he didn’t care he was, he just never wanted
to lose his brother. If anything ever happened to him, then he just didn’t know
what he’d do. He wouldn’t know what to do. He’d probably lose his mind. Losing
Dean would probably succeed in what Lucifer had failed to do.
He put that thought out of his mind and concentrated on the fact that Dean was
right there, in his arms at that moment. Why waste what they had by worrying
about what may never be? And come to think of it, Deanwas there, in his arms
right now. Naked. Why waste the moment?
He was on top of his brother and kissing him before he had finished the
thought. Dean sighed up at him.
“Hadn’t we better get going? We’ve still got to find this place and I’d rather
it was in the daylight.”
“Soon. We’ve got time enough.” He was rubbing himself against his brother, he
was already fully hard and there was Dean’s cock rising to meet his.
“Sammy. You’re really insatiable!”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Yeah, but.”
Sam paused in his rutting and looked down at him with sudden anxiety. “But?”
Dean looked sheepishly up at him, didn’t want to admit a weakness. “You tire me
out sometimes.” He confessed. “I love this and I love you, but sometimes... I
don’t think you know how strong you are, or how relentless sometimes. It’s
just...sometimes I’m happy to just...you know, just lie here.”
“Oh.” Sam considered this for a moment. “Are you saying you’re happy to
just....cuddle?”
He grinned as colour flared into his brother’s face: “Well, I wouldn’t use that
word exactly but...”
“But Dean Winchester likes to cuddle!” Sam was laughing as he began to kiss his
brother’s face, all of it, every inch. “Or should we use the word ’snuggle’?
Would that be better? Shall we just snuggle?”
“No! Definitely not snuggle!”
“How about ‘cradling’? I could cradle you instead.”
“No! Makes me sound a fucking baby!”
“Nestle! We could nestle!”
“What are you? A walking fucking dictionary? Just forget I said anything!” He
was getting irritated in his embarassment. Sam took pity and plunged his tongue
in to his mouth to stop both of them from saying any more.
Then it wasn’t just to stop them from talking as mutual passion took over.
Dean’s hands stroked through Sam’s hair and pulled him down harder while Sam’s
hands were all over the strong muscled body beneath his. When they broke apart,
it was only because both were desperate to snatch some much needed breaths of
air.
Sam gazed down at his brother. He could feel how hard he was against his own
fully erect cock, but...
“Can I enter you again?”
“Yeah. Yes! I want to. I always do. I was just saying... well trying...
sometimes I get tired, or frustrated at everything that’s happening, and I just
want to be next to you, know you’re there, even if we’re notdoing anything, you
know....”
His rambling was cut off as Sam suddenly kissed him deeply and slowly. “I
know.” He whispered to him. “I feel the same. I think that’s what they call
‘love’.”
“Sammeee.”
It was a discontented rumble from his brother’s lips but Sam laughed. He felt
ecstatic. He felt that all the weight of doubt was being lifted from him. He
still caught himself wondering if Dean was happy with their relationship like
this, and now all that was gone, because although his brother might never be
able to bring himself to say the word as Sam so desperately wanted him to say
it, he had just come close enough.
And he had just given permission for Sam to fuck him again.
Sam didn’t waste any more time. Quickly he lubed up and pushed back in to that
perfect tight warmth, sliding in without any hesitation or resistance this time
as Dean was still slicked from the short time before. Well, had extra slick
from what Sam had added while he was in there the first time. Sam moaned as he
went in all the way and began to thrust immediately.
He wanted it different this time. He wriggled both his hands and knees beneath
Dean’s ass until he could gather him up in his arms before pulling himself
backwards onto his kneeling legs, physically dragging his brother up onto his
lap without missing a single beat of rhythm. Dean’s breath caught slightly as
his own weight forced him down to impale even deeper onto Sam’s cock. He moved
his legs to wrap loosely around his brother so he could use them to help by
pushing away from Sam momentarily and then back to double the force of each of
his thrusts into him.
“This okay?”
“Your legs alright? Can you take my weight?”
“You’ve taken mine all your life. My turn now.”
And with that they were back in each other’s mouths and gasping and panting
until Dean had no choice but to arch his back as he climaxed, and Sam was
following immediately and calling his name and telling him he loved him and
shaking through all of his limbs.
It was a few minutes before either could move. Dean tried to first but Sam’s
large hands were so firmly clamped on his hips that he couldn’t: he just waited
for Sam to finally slip out of him and for his brother to sigh in
disappointment, before he could finally pull them both down to lie in the bed
and pull the blankets over them. They lay tangled together in each other’s arms
while they recovered.
“So.” Dean finally broke the silence. “An Alpha Vampire, huh?”
“Yeah.” Sam sighed. “Fucking vampires. I hate fucking vampires!”
“I hope you don’t fuck vampires! You’re never touching me again if you do!”
“Dean! Don’t be.... As if anyone would fuck a vampire! Or, oh god,” he was
laughing now. “Imagine getting a blow job from one!”
“Oh Christ! All those teeth! My eyes are watering at the thought!” Dean was
laughing as well. He started to get up from the bed, still chuckling. “I tell
you one thing, Sammy. I’ll never be finding that out! Can’t ever see me
spending more time with a vampire than is needed to chop its head off! That’s a
certainty!”
Sam watched him as he disappeared in to the bathroom. God, he loved him so
much. He really did. Conventionally as a brother, and completely off the moral
compass chart as a lover. And he didn’t care. As long as Dean was okay about it
and wanted him too, then everyone else could just go and deal with the world’s
end on their own if that’s how they felt!
He didn’t need them. The only thing he needed had just walked into that other
room where the shower had just been turned on. Sam got out of the bed and
decided to join him in there, after all: they had wasted enough time now,
better they shower together and try to catch some of it up!
Even as he opened the door and slipped into the small cubicle, Sam‘s brain was
whirring. What was a manly word for cuddling? He would have to do some research
and try to find one that Dean would accept the use of. And then make sure they
practised it lots. At least once these leviathans were dealt with, they could
relax and do just that and nothing else.
As long as they were together. That was all that mattered. Sam and Dean
Winchester. Together. As they always should be.
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